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Encyclopaedia 


of 


Religion    and    Ethics 


Encyclopedia 

of 

Religion  and  Ethics 


EDITED    BY 

JAMES  HASTINGS 


WITH    THE    ASSISTANCE    OF 

JOHN  A.  SELBIE,  M.A.,   D.D. 

PBOFESSOB   OF   OLD    TESTAMENT    LANGUAGE    AND    LITBBATC7RE    IN    Tat, 
UNITED    FBBB   CHUECH   COLLEGE,    ABEBDBBN 

AND 

LOUIS  H.  GRAY,  M.A.,  Ph.D. 

SOMliTlMe    FELLOW    IN    INDO-IBANIAN   LANGUAGES    IN    COLUMBIA    UN1VHBSITY,    NBW    TOBE 


VOLUME    IV 
CONFIRMATION— DRAMA 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S   SONS 


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PRINTED    IN   GREAT   BRITAIN   BY 
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[The  Rights  of  Translation  and  of  Reproduction  are  Reserved.] 


Messrs.  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  New  York,  have  the  sole  right  of  publication  of  this 
ENCYCLOPEDIA  OF  RELIGION  AND  ETHTCS  in  the  United  States  and  Canada. 


AUTHORS  OF  ARTICLES  W  THIS  VOLUME 


Allen  (Willoughby  C),  M.A. 

Archdeacon    of    Manchester  ;     Principal    of 
Egerton   Hall,   and  Hon.    Lecturer  in  the 
History  of  Doctrine  in  the  Victoria  Uni- 
versity, Manchester. 
Criticism  (New  Testament). 

Anesaki  (Masahar). 

Professor  of  Religious  Science  in  the  Imperial 
University  of  Tokyo. 

Dhyana,  Docetism  (Buddhist). 

Anwyl  (Sir  Edward),  M.A.  (Oxon.). 

Professor  of  Welsh  and  Comparative  Philo- 
logy, and  Dean  of  the  Faculty  of  Arts,  in 
the  University  College  of  Wales,  Aberyst- 
wyth ;  author  of  Celtic  Religion,  Grammar 
of  Old  Welsh  Poetry,  Welsh  Grammar. 
Crimes  and  Punishments  (Celtic),  Demons 
and  Spirits  (Celtic). 

ASTLEY     (H.     J.     DUKINFIELD),     M.A.,     D.Litt., 

F.R.Hist.S.,  F.R.A.I. 
Vicar  of  Rudham,  Norfolk  ;  Donnellan  Lec- 
turer, Trinity   College,  Dublin  ;  author  of 
Prehistoric  Archmology  and  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. 
Cup-  and  Ring-Markings. 

Aston  (William  George),  M.A.,  D.Litt.,  C.M.G. 
Formerly  Japanese  Secretary  of  H.M.  Lega- 
tion, Tokyo ;  author  of  History  of  Japanese 
Literature,  Shinto. 
Crimes  and  Punishments  (Japanese). 

Baikie  (James). 

Fellow  of  the   Royal  Astronomical   Society ; 
Minister  of  the  United  Free  Church,  An- 
crum. 
Creed  (Egyptian). 

Barker  (Henry),  M.A. 

Lecturer  in  Moral  Philosophy  in  the  University 
of  Edinburgh. 
Conformity. 

Barns  (Thomas),  M.A.  (Oxon.). 

Vicar  of  Hilderstone,  Staffordshire. 

Disease  and  Medicine  (Celtic),   Divina- 
tion (Christian). 

Barton  (George  Aaron),  A.M.,  Ph.D. 

Professor  of  Biblical  Literature  and  Semitic 
Languages  in  Bryn  Mawr  College  ;  author 
of  A  Sketch  of  Semitic  Origins,  '  Ecclesiastes ' 
in  the  International  Critical  Commentary. 
Corners,  Demons  and  Spirits  (Hebrew). 


Bateson  (Joseph  Harger),  F.R.G.S. 

Secretary,  Wesleyan  Army  and  Navy  Board. 
Creed  (Buddhist). 

Batten  (Loring  Woart),  Ph.D.,  S.T.D. 

Professor  of  Old  Testament  Literature  and 
Interpretation  in  the  General  Theological 
Seminary,  New  York  ;  author  of  The  Old 
Testament  from  the  Modem  Point  of  View, 
The  Hebrew  Prophet. 
Decalogue. 

Bennett    (William    Henry),    M.A.    (Lond.), 
D.D.  (Aber.),  Litt.D.  (Camb.). 
Sometime  Fellow  of  St.  John's  College,  Cam- 
bridge ;  Professor  of  Old  Testament  Exegesis, 
Hackney  College  and  New  College,  London  ; 
author  of   The  Religion  of  the  Post-Exilic 
Prophets. 
Crimes     and      Punishments     (Hebrew), 
Death    and    Disposal    of    the    Dead 
(Jewish). 

Bethe  (Erich),  D.Phil. 

Professor  der  Klass.  Philologie  an  der  Univer- 
sitat  zu  Leipzig ;  Geheimer  Hofrat. 
Danaids. 

Bevan  (Edwyn  Robert),  M.A. 
London. 

Deification  (Greek  and  Roman). 

Bolling  (George  Melville),  A.B.,  Ph.D. 

Professor  of  Greek  and  Sanskrit  Languages 

and    Literatures,    and  Assoc.    Professor  of 

Comparative    Philology,    in    the     Catholic 

University  of  America. 

Disease  and  Medicine  (Vedic),  Divination 

(Vedic). 

Brabrook  (Sir  Edward),  C.B. 

Of  Lincoln's  Inn,  Barrister-at-Law  ;  Director 
S.A.  ;  Vice-President  R.S.L.  and  R.A.I.  ; 
past  President  of  the  Sociological  Society 
and  Child  Study  Society,  and  of  the  Eco- 
nomic and  Anthropological  Sections  of  the 
British  Association  ;  Treasurer  of  the  Royal 
Archaeological  Institute  ;  formerly  Chief 
Registrar  of  Friendly  Societies. 
Co-operation. 

Brown  (William  Adams),  Ph.D.,  D.D. 

Roosevelt  Professor  of  Systematic  Theology 
in  Union  Theological  Seminary,  New  York  ; 
author  of  Christian  Theology  in  Outline. 
Covenant  Theology. 


AUTHORS  OP  ARTICLES  IN  THIS  VOLUME 


Bullock  (Thomas  Lowndes),  M.A. 

Professor   of   Chinese    in    the    University   of 
Oxford. 

Drama  (Chinese). 

Burn  (A.  E.),  M.A.,  D.D. 

Vicar  of  Halifax  ;   Prebendary  of  Lichfield  ; 
Examining  Chaplain  to  the  Bishop  of  Lich- 
field ;    author  of    An  Introduction    to  the 
Creeds,  Niceta  of  Remesiana. 
Creeds  (Ecumenical). 

Burns  (Islay  Ferrier),  M.A. 

Tutor  and  Librarian  in  Westminster  College, 
Cambridge  ;  formerly  Snell  Exhibitioner  at 
Balliol  College,  Oxford. 
Cosmogony     and     Cosmology     (Greek, 
Roman). 

Casartelli  (Louis  Charles),  M.A.  (Lond.),  D.  D., 
and  D.Litt.  Or.  (Louvain),  M.R.A.S. 
Bishop  of  Salford ;  Lecturer  on  Iranian  Lan- 
guages and  Literature  in  the  University  of 
Manchester ;  formerly  Professor  of  Zend  and 
Pahlavi  in  the  University  of  Lonvain. 
Disease  and  Medicine  (Persian). 

Chamberlain  (Alexander  Francis),  M.A. 
(Toronto),  Ph.D.  (Clark). 
Assistant  Professor  of  Anthropology  in  Clark 
University,  Worcester,  Mass.;  editor  of  the 
Journal  of  American  Folklore  (1900-1908); 
author  of  The  Child  and  Childhood  in  Folk- 
Thought,  The  Child:  A  Study  in  the  Evolu- 
tion of  Man. 
Disease  and  Medicine  (American). 

Cobb  (William  F.),  D.D. 

Rector  of  the  Church  of  St.  Ethelburga  the 
Virgin,  London,  E.C. 
Convocation. 

Crawley  (Alfred  Ernest),  M.A.  (Camb.). 

Fellow  of  the  Royal  Anthropological  Institute 
and  of  the  Sociological  Society ;   author  of 
The  Mystic  Rose,  The  Tree  of  Life,  The  Idea 
of  the  Soul. 
Cursing  and  Blessing,  Dew,  Doubles. 

Crooke  (William),  B.A. 

Ex-Scholar  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin  ;  Fellow 

of    the    Royal    Anthropological    Institute ; 

President  of  the  Anthropological  Section  of 

the  British  Association,  1910 ;  President  of 

the  Folk-lore   Society,    1911  ;    late   of   the 

Bengal  Civil  Service. 

Dangi,  Daphla,  Death  and  Disposal  of 

the  Dead  (Indian,  non-Aryan),  Dehra, 

Delhi,   Demons    and    Spirits   (Indian), 

Deogarh,     Deoprayag,     Devi     Patan, 

Dhinodar,  Dom,  Dosadh. 

D'Alviella  (Count  Goblet),  Ph.D.,  LL.D.  (Glas. 
and  Aber.). 
Member  and  Secretary  of  the  Belgian  Senate  ; 
Professor  of  History  of  Religions  in  the 
University  of  Brussels ;  Hibbert  Lecturer, 
1891  ;  Commander  of  the  Order  of  Leopold  ; 
author  of  The  Migration  of  Symbols. 
Cross. 

Davids  (Mrs.  Rhys),  M.A. 

Lecturer  on  Indian  Philosophy  in  the   Uni- 
versity of  Manchester. 
Desire  (Buddhist). 


Davids  (T.  W.  Rhys),  LL.D.,  Ph.D.,  D.Sc. 

Professor    of     Comparative    Religion,    Man- 
chester ;  President  of  the  Pali  Text  Society  ; 
Fellow  of  the  British  Academy ;  author  of 
Buddhism  (1878),  Questions  of  King  Milinda 
(1890-94),  Buddhist  India  (1902),  Early  Bud- 
dhism (1908). 
Crimes     and     Punishments    (Buddhist), 
Devadatta,     Dhammapala,     Discipline 
(Buddhist). 

Davidson  (John),  M.A.,  D.Sc. 

Formerly  Professor  of  Political  Economy  in 
the  University  of  New  Brunswick. 
Dacoity. 

Davidson  (William  Leslie),  M.A.,  LL.D. 

Professor  of  Logic  and  Metaphysics  in  the 
University  of  Aberdeen ;  author  of  The 
Logic  of  Definition,  Theism  as  grounded  in 
Human  Nature,  Christian  Ethics,  The  Stoic 
Creed. 
Desire  (Greek). 

Dhalla  (Dastur  Dr.  Maneckji  Nusseevanji), 
M.A.,  Ph.D. 
High  Priest  of  the  Parsis  of  Sind,  Panjab,  and 
Baluchistan. 
Crimes  and  Punishments  (Parsi). 

Dorner  (August),  Dr.  Theol.  und  Philos. 

Ordentlicher  Professor  an  der  Universitat  zu 
Konigsberg. 
Consistency  (Ethical). 

Dottin  (Georges),  Docteur  es-Lettres. 

Prof  esseur  de  langue  et  litterature  grecques  a 
1'Universite  de  Rennes. 
Cosmogony    and     Cosmology     (Celtic), 
Divination  (Celtic). 

Fallaize  (Edwin  Nicholas  Collingford), 
B.A.  (Oxon.). 
Late  King  Charles  Exhibitioner,  Exeter  Col- 
lege, Oxford  ;  Recorder,  Section  H  (Anthro- 
pology) of  the  British  Association  for  the 
Advancement  of  Science. 
Coyoteros. 

Feltoe  (Charles  Lett),  D.D. 

Rector  of  Ripple,  near  Dover ;  formerly  Fellow 
of  Clare  College,  Cambridge. 

Consecration. 

Fortescue  (Adrian),  Ph.D.,  D.D.  (Innsbruck). 
Roman  Catholic  Priest  at  Letchworth. 
Docetism. 

Foucart  (George  B.),  Docteur  es-Lettres. 

Professeur  d'Histoire  des  Religions  a  l'Univer- 
site  d'Aix-Marseille ;  Professeur  a  l'lnstitut 
Colonial  de  Marseille  (Religions  et  coutumes 
des  peuples  d'Afrique) ;  Ancien  Inspecteur 
en    chef    du    Service    des    Antiquites    de 
l'Egypte  ;   auteur  de  La  Mithode  compara- 
tive dans  VHistoire  des  Religions. 
Conscience     (Egyptian),     Demons     and 
Spirits  (Egyptian),  Disease  and  Medi- 
cine    (Egyptian),     Divination     (Egyp- 
tian). 

Gardner  (Alice),  F.R.Hist.S. 

Lecturer  and  Associate  of  Newnham  College, 
Cambridge ;   author  of  Julian,  Philosopher 
and  Emperor  ;  Theodore  of  Studium. 
Courage. 


AUTHORS  OF  ARTICLES  IN  THIS  VOLUME 


Gardner  (Edmund  G.),  M.A.  (Camb.). 

Barlow  Lecturer  on  Dante  in  the  University 
of  London,  University  College;   author  of 
Dante's  Ten  Heavens. 
Dante. 

Gaskell  (Catharine  Julia). 

Cambridge  University  Classical  Tripos,  Part  I. 
(Class  II.)  and  Part  II.  (Class  I.). 
Divination  (Teutonic). 

Gaskell  (George  Arthur). 
Brighton. 

Conviction. 

Gaster  (Moses),  Ph.D. 

Chief  Rabbi,   Spanish  and  Portuguese  Con- 
gregations, London ;  formerly  President  of 
the  Folklore  Society,   and  of   the  Jewish 
Historical  Society. 
Conscience  (Jewish),  Divination  (Jewish). 

Gaudefroy-Demombynes. 

Professeur  a  PEcole  des  Langues  Orientales, 
Paris. 
Demons  and  Spirits  (Muslim). 

Gkden  (Alfred  S.),  M.A.  (Oxon.),  D.D.  (Aber.). 
Professor  of  Old  Testament  Languages  and 
Literature,  and  of  Comparative  Religion,  in 
the  Wesleyan  College,  Richmond,  Surrey ; 
author  of  Studies  in  Comparative  Religion, 
Studies  in  Eastern  Religions. 
Darsana,  Devayana. 

Geer  (Curtis  Manning),  Ph.D.  (Leipzig). 

Professor  of  Germanic  and  Western  Church 
History,   and    Instructor    in    Ecclesiastical 
Polity,  in  the  Hartford  Theological  Semi- 
nary. 
Cosmogony  and   Cosmology  (Mediaeval 
and  Modern  Christian). 

Giles  (Peter),  Litt.D.,  LL.D.  (Aber.). 

Master  of    Emmanuel    College,    Cambridge ; 
University  Reader  in   Comparative   Philo- 
logy ;   author  of  A  Short  Manual  of  Com- 
parative Philology. 
Domestication. 

Goldziher  (Ignaz),  Ph.D.,  D.Litt.,  LL.D. 

Professor  of  Semitic  Philology  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Budapest ;  Ord.  Member  and 
Class-President  of  the  Hungarian  Academy 
of  Sciences ;  Foreign  Member  of  the  British 
Academy,  of  the  Imperial  Academy  of 
Sciences,  St.  Petersburg,  of  the  Royal 
Academy  of  Sciences,  Berlin,  of  the  Indian 
Institute,  The  Hague,  of  the  Jewish  His- 
torical Society  of  England,  of  the  Society 
Asiatique,  Paris. 
Dawud  B. '  Ali  B.  Khalaf. 

Gray  (Louis  Herbert),  Ph.D. 

Sometime  Member  of  the  Editorial  Staff  of  the 
New  International  Encyclopaedia,  Oriental- 
ische  Bibliographic,   etc.  ;    Member  of  the 
American  and  German  Oriental   Societies, 
etc.  ;    Author   of    Indo-Iranian  Phonology 
(1902). 
Cosmogony    and    Cosmology   (Introduc- 
tory,    Iranian,     Polynesian),    Custom, 
Death    and    Disposal    of    the     Dead 
(Ancient  Persian   Rites),  Demons  and 
Spirits  (Introductory),  Divination  (Per- 
sian), Drama  (Introductory,  American, 
Javanese,  Jewish,  Persian,  Polynesian). 


Grierson  (George  Abraham),  CLE.,  Ph.D. 
(Halle),  D.Litt.  (Dublin),  I.C.S.  (retired). 
Foreign  Associate  Member  of  the  Societe 
Asiatique  de  Paris  ;  Corresponding  Member 
of  the  Kbnigliche  Gesellschaft  der  Wissen- 
schaften  zu  Gottingen  ;  Vice-President  of 
the  Royal  Asiatic  Society  ;  Superintendent 
of  the  Linguistic  Survey  of  India. 
Dards. 

Griffith  (Francis  Llewellyn),  M.A.,  F.S.A., 
Hon.  Ph.D.  (Leipzig). 
Reader  in  Egyptology  in  the  University  of 
Oxford  ;  editor  of  the  Archaeological  Survey 
and  the  Archaeological  Reports  of  the  Egypt 
Exploration  Fund  ;  Corresponding  Member 
of  the  Royal  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Berlin  ; 
Foreign  Associate  of  the  Societe  Asiatique  ; 
Member  of  the  Imperial  Academy  of  Sciences 
of  Vienna. 
Crimes  and  Punishments  (Egyptian). 

De  Groot  (J.  J.  M.),  D.Phil.,  LL.D. 

Professor  of  Chinese  in  the  University  of 
Leyden  ;  author  of  The  Religious  System  of 
China,  Le  Code  du  Mahayana  en  Chine, 
Sectarianism  and  Religious  Persecution  in 
China. 
Confucian  Religion. 

Haldane  (Elizabeth  Sanderson),  LL.D. 

Author  of  The  Life  of  James  Ferricr  (1899), 

Life  of  Descartes  (1905),  and  joint-author  of 

HegeVs  History  of  Philosophy   (1892),   and 

The  Philosophical  Works  of  Descartes  (1911). 

Descartes. 

Haldane  (John  Burdok  Sv*oerson). 
Scholar  of  New  College,  Oxford. 

Descartes  (Services  to  Mathematics). 

Hall  (H.  R.),  M.A.,  F.S.A.,  F.R.G.S. 

Assistant  in  the  Department  of  Egyptian  and 
Assyrian  Antiquities  in  the  British  Museum. 
Death  and  Disposal  of  the  Dead  (Egyp- 
tian), Demons  and  Spirits  (Coptic). 

Hannay  (James  Owen),  M.A. 
Rector  of  Wes!  port,  Co.  Mayo. 
Counsels  and  Precepts. 

Hartland  (Edwin  Sidney),  F.S.A. 

President  of  the  Folklore  Society,  1899  ;  Presi- 
dent of  the  Anthropological  Section  of  the 
British  Association,  1906  ;  President  of  Sec- 
tion I.  (Religions  of  the  Lower  Culture)  at 
the  Oxford  International  Congress  for  the 
History  of  Religions,  1908 ;  author  of  The 
Legend  of  Perseus,  Primitive  Paternity. 
Death  and  Disposal  of  the  Dead  (Intro- 
ductory), Decollati. 

Henderson  (William  John),  B.A. 

Principal  of  the  Baptist  College,  Bristol. 
Constancy. 

Herkless  (John),  D.D. 

Professor    of    Ecclesiastical    History    in    the 
University  of  St.  Andrews. 
Covenanters. 

Hicks  (Robert  Drew),  M.A. 

Fellow    and    formerly   Classical    Lecturer  o( 
Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 
Democritus. 

Hill  (George  Francis),  M.A.  (Oxon.). 

Of  the  Department  of   Coins  in  the   Britiat 
Museum. 

Crown  (Greek  and  Roman). 


Till 


AUTHORS  OP  ARTICLES  IN  THIS  VOLUME 


Hillebrandt  (A.  F.  Alfred),  Ph.D.  (Munich), 
LL.D. 
Ord.  Professor  of  Sanskrit  and  Comparative 
Philology  in  the  University  of  Breslau ; 
Corresponding  Member  of  the  Konigliche 
Gesellschaft  der  Wissenschaften  zu  Gottin- 

§en,  and  of  the  Royal  Bavarian  Academy  of 
ciences ;  Geheimer  Eegierungsrat. 
Death  and  Disposal  of  the  Dead  (Hindu). 

HlRSCHFELD  (HARTWIG),  Ph.D. 

Lecturer  in   Semitics  at  the  Jews'  College ; 
Lecturer  in  Semitic  Epigraphy  and  Ethiopic 
at  University  College  in  the  University  of 
London. 
Creed  (Jewish). 

Hull  (Eleanor). 

Hon.  Sec.  of  the  Irish  Texts  Society,  London  ; 
Member  of  Council  of  the  Folklore  and  Irish 
Literary  Societies ;  Vice-President  of  the 
Viking  Club  ;  author  of  The  Cuchullin  Saga 
in  Irish  Literature  (1898),  Pagan  Ireland 
(1904),  Early  Christian  Ireland  (1905),  A 
Text-book  of  Irish  Literature  (1907-8). 
Cuchulainn  Cycle. 

Hunter  (Adam  Mitchell),  M.A. 

Minister  of  the  United  Free  Church,  Cardross. 
Conventicle. 

Hyslop  (James  Hervey),  Ph.D.,  LL.D. 

Secretary  of  the  American  Society  for  Psychi- 
cal Research  ;   formerly  Professor  of  Logic 
and  Ethics  in  Columbia  University. 
Conscience,  Deontology. 
Irons  (David),  M.A.  (St.  And.),  Ph.D.  (Cornell). 
Formerly  Associate  Professor  of  Bryn  Mawr 
College  ;  author  of  The  Psychology  of  Ethics. 
Disgust. 

Iverach  (James),  M.A.,  D.D. 

Principal,  and  Professor  of  New  Testament 
Language  and  Literature,  in  the  United 
Free  Church  College,  Aberdeen ;  author  of 
Is  God  Knowablel  (1887),  Evolution  and 
Christianity  (1894),  Theism  in  the  Light  of 
Present  Science  and  Philosophy  (1900), 
Descartes  and  Spinoza  (1904). 
Consciousness. 

Jackson  (A.  V.  Williams),  Litt.D.,  Ph.D.,  LL.D. 
Professor     of    Indo  -  Iranian    Languages    in 
Columbia  University,  New  York. 
Demons  and  Spirits  (Persian). 

Jacobi  (Hermann),  Ph.D. 

Professor  des  Sanskrit  an  der  Universitat  zu 
Bonn  ;  Geheimer  Regierungsrat. 

Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Indian),  Cow 
(Hindu),  Daitya,  Death  and  Disposal  of 
the  Dead  (Jain),  Demons  and  Spirits 
(Jain),  Digambaras,  Divination  (Hindu). 

James  (John  George),  D.Lit.,  M.A.  (Lond.). 
Minister  of  Christ  Church,  Enfield. 
Consolation,  Comfort  (Christian). 

Jolly  (Julius),  Ph.D.  (Munich),  Hon.  M.D.  (Got- 
tingen),  Hon.  D.Litt.  (Oxford). 
Ord.  Professor  of  Sanskrit  and  Comparative 
Philology  and   Director  of    the  Linguistic 
Seminary  in  the  University  of  Wtirzburg; 
formerly  Tagore   Professor  of  Law  in  the 
University  of  Calcutta. 
Crimes  and  Punishments  (Hindu),  Custom 
(Hindu),  Dharma,  Disease  and  Medicine 
(Hindu). 

Jones  (Rufus  M.),  M.A.,  D.Litt. 

Professor  of  Philosophy  in  Haverford  College, 
Pennsylvania. 
Deliberation. 


Jones  (William  Henry  Samuel),  M.A. 

Fellow  and  Lecturer,  St.  Catharine's  College, 
Cambridge. 
Conscience  (Greek  and  Roman). 

Jones-Parry  (Thomas),  B.A.,  B.D. 

Lecturer  in  Church  History  in  the  Theological 
College,  Bala,  N.  Wales. 
Culdees. 

Joseph  (Morris). 

Senior  Minister  of  the  West  London  Syna- 
gogue. 
Discipline  (Jewish). 

Joyce  (Gilbert  Cunningham),  M.A.,  D.D. 
Warden  of  St.  Deiniol's  Library,  fiawarden. 
Deism. 

Juynboll  (Th.  W.),  Dr.  juris  et  phil. 

Adjutor    interpretis     '  Legati     Warneriani, 
Leyden. 
Crimes  and  Punishments  (Muhammadan). 

Kidd  (Benjamin). 

Ditchling,  Sussex  ;  author  of  Social  Evolution 
(1894),  Principles  of  Western  Civilisation 
(1902),  The  two  Principal  Laws  of  Sociology 
(1909). 

Darwinism. 

King  (Leonard  William),  M.A.,  F.S.A. 

Assistant   in   the    Department    of   Egyptian 
and  Assyrian   Antiquities    in    the    British 
Museum ;   Lecturer  in  Assyrian  at  King's 
College,  London. 
Divination  (Assyro-Babylonian). 

Kroll  (Wilhelm),  Dr.Phil. 

Professor  der  Klass.  Philologie  an  der   Uni- 
versitat zu  Miinster. 
Consolation  (Greek  and  Roman). 

Lane-Poole  (Stanley),  M.A  (Oxon.),  Litt.D. 
(Dublin). 
Late  Professor  of  Arabic  in  the  University  of 
Dublin  (T.C.D.). 

Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Muhamma- 
dan), Creed  (Muhammadan),  Death 
and  Disposal  of  the  Dead  (Muham- 
madan). 

Lang  (Andrew),  M.A.,  D.Litt.,  D.C.L.,  LL.D. 
Author  of   Custom  and  Myth  (1884),   Myth, 
Ritual  and  Religion  (1887),  Tlie  Making  of 
Religion  (1898),  Magic  and  Religion  (1901). 
Crystal-gazing. 

Langdon  (Stephen  Herbert),  B.D.,  Ph.D.,  Hon. 
M.A.  (Oxon.). 
Shillito  Reader  in  Assyriology  and  Com- 
parative Semitic  Philology  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Oxford;  author  of  Neo-Baby- 
Ionian  Royal  Inscriptions  (V.A.B.  vol. 
iv.),  Sumerian  and  Babylonian  Psalms,  A 
Sumerian  Grammar. 

Death  and  Disposal  of  the  Dead  (Baby- 
lonian). 

Lawlor  (Hugh  Jackson),  D.D. 

Beresford  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  History 
in  the  University  of  Dublin ;   Canon   and 
Precentor  of  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral,  Dublin. 
Confirmation. 

Lloyd  (Arthur),  M.A. 

Lecturer  in  the  Imperial  University,  Naval 

Academy,  and  Higher  Commercial  School, 

Tokyo ;    formerly    Fellow    of    Peterhouse, 

Cambridge. 

Daibutsu,   Death   and    Disposal    of  the 

Dead  (Japanese),  .Demons  and  Spirits 

(Japanese),  Drama  (Japanese). 


AUTHORS  OP  ARTICLES  IN  THIS  VOLUME 


Loewe  (Herbert  Martin  James),  M.A. 

Curator  of   Oriental   Literature  in   the  Uni- 
versity    Library  ;      Director    of     Oriental 
Studies,  St.  Catharine's  College,  Cambridge. 
Cosmogony    and    Cosmology    (Jewish), 
Crimes     and     Punishments     (Jewish), 
Demons  and  Spirits  (Jewish),  Disease 
and  Medicine  (Jewish). 

Loofs  (Friedrich),  Lie.  Theol.,  Dr.Phil.  u.  Theol. 

Ordentlicher  Professor  der  Kirchengeschichte 

an    der    Universitat    zu    Halle ;    Geheimer 

Konsistorialrat ;      Mitglied     des     Konsist- 

oriums  der  Provinz  Sachsen. 

Descent  to  Hades  (Christ's). 

Lowie  (Robert  H.),  Ph.D. 

Assistant  Curator,  Department  of  Anthro- 
pology, American  Museum  of  Natural 
History ;  Secretary,  American  Ethnological 
Society  ;  President,  New  York  Branch  of 
the  American  Folk-Lore  Society. 
Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Mexican 
and  South  American). 

MacCulloch  (John  Arnott),  Hon.  D.D.  (St. 
Andrews). 
Rector  of  St.  Saviour's,  Bridge  of  Allan  ;  Hon. 
Canon  of  the  Cathedral  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
Cumbrae  ;  author  of  Comparative  Theology ; 
Religion :  its  Origin  and  Forms  ;  The  Child- 
hood of  Fiction;  The  Religion  of  the  Ancient 
Celts ;  Early  Christian  Visions  of  the  Other- 
World. 
Covenant,     Crimes     and     Punishments 
(Primitive),  Cross-roads,  Crown,  De- 
scent to  Hades  (Ethnic),  Door. 

Macey  (Thomas  Stenner),  B.A.  (Lond.). 

Professor  of  Hebrew  in  the  Western  College  ; 
Lecturer  in  Comparative  Religion  in   con- 
nexion with  Bristol  University. 
Deicide. 

McIntyre  (James  Lewis),  M.A.  (Edin.  and 
Oxon.),  D.Sc.  (Edin.). 
Anderson  Lecturer  in  Comparative  Psychology 
to  the  University  of  Aberdeen ;  Lecturer  in 
Psychology,  Logic,  and  Ethics  to  the  Aber- 
deen Provincial  Committee  for  the  Training 
of  Teachers ;  formerly  Examiner  in  Philo- 
sophy to  the  University  of  Edinburgh ; 
author  of  Giordano  Bruno  ( 1903). 

Degeneration,  Development  (Mental). 

Maclagan  (P.  J.),  M.A.,  D.Phil. 

Of  the  English  Presbyterian  Mission,  Swatow. 
Demons  and  Spirits  (Chinese). 

Macpherson  (John),  M.D.,  F.R.C.P.E. 
Commissioner  in  Lunacy  for  Scotland. 
Debauchery. 

Mansikka  (Viljo  Johannes),  Dr.  Phil. 

Dozen t  an  der  Universitat  zu  Helsingfors, 
Demons  and  Spirits  (Slavic). 

Margoliouth  (David  Samuel),  M.A.,  D.Litt. 
Fellow  of  New  College,  and  Laudian  Professor 
of  Arabic  in  the  University  of  Oxford;  author 
of  Mohammed  and  the  Rise  of  Islam,  Moham- 
medanism. 
Conscience  (Muslim),  Dervish,  Divination 
(Muslim). 

Marvin  (Walter  Taylor),  Ph.D. 

Professor  in  Rutgers  College,  New  Jersey. 
Consequence. 


Mirbt  (Carl),  Dr.Theol. 

Professor  der  Kirchengeschichte  an  der  Uni- 
versitat zu  Marburg. 
Deutsch-Katholicismus. 

Mitchell  (Edwin  Knox),  M.A.,  D.D. 

Professor  of  Graeco-Roman  and  Eastern  Church 
History  in  Hartford  Theological  Seminary. 
Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Early  Chris- 
tian), Death  and  Disposal  of  the  Dead 
(Early  Christian). 

Mitchell  (William),  M.A.,  D.Sc. 

Hughes  Professor  of  Philosophy  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Adelaide,  South  Australia. 
Consumption,  Distribution. 

Mogk  (Eugen),  Dr.Phil. 

Professor   der  nordischen   Philologie    an    der 
Universitat  zu  Leipzig. 
Demons  and  Spirits  (Teutonic),   Doom, 
Doom-Myths  (Teutonic). 

Morice  (Adrian  Gabriel),  O.M.I.,  B.A. 

Lecturer  in  Anthropology  in  the  University 
of  Saskatchewan,  Canada ;  Laureate  of  the 
Geographical  Society  of  Paris ;  author  of 
The  Great  Dini  Race,  History  of  the 
Catholic  Church  in  Western  Canada. 
Dene's. 

Munro  (Robert),  M.A.,  M.D.,  LL.D. 

Hon.  Vice-President  of  the  Royal  Archaeo- 
logical Institute  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  ; 
Munro  Lecturer  on  Anthropology  and  Pre- 
historic Archaeology  in  the  University  of 
Edinburgh ;  author  of  The  Lake-Dwellings 
of  Europe,  Prehistoric  Problems. 

Death  and   Disposal  of  the  Dead  (Pre- 
historic Europe). 

Murray  (Robert  Henry),  M.A.,  Litt.D. 

Minor  Canon,  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral,  Dublin  ; 
Lecturer  in  History  at  Alexandra  College, 
Dublin ;    author  of  Revolutionary  Ireland 
and  its  Settlement. 
Corruption  and  Bribery. 

Myers  (Charles  S.),  M.A.,  M.D.,  Sc.D. 

Lecturer  in  Experimental  Psychology  in  the 
University  of  Cambridge. 
Disease  and  Medicine  (Introductory  and 
Primitive). 

Pass  (H.  Leonard),  M.A. 

Recognized  Lecturer  in  Theology  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Cambridge. 
Demons  and  Spirits  (Christian). 

Paton  (Lewis  Bayles),  Ph.D.,  D.D. 

Nettleton  Professor  of  Old  Testament  Exegesis 
and  Criticism,  and  Instructor  in  Assyrian,  in 
the  Hartford  Theological  Seminary ;  late 
Director  of  the  American  School  of  Archae- 
ology in  Jerusalem ;  author  of  The  Early 
History  of  Syria  and  Palestine,  '  Esther ' 
in  the  International  Critical  Commentary, 
Jerusalem  in  Bible  Times,  The  Early 
Religion  of  Israel. 
Dagan. 

Pearson  (A.  C),  M.A. 

Late  Scholar  of  Christ's  College,  Cambridge ; 

editor  of  Fragments  of  Zeno  and  Cleanthes, 

Euripides' Helena,Heraclidae,  and  Phosnissae. 

Crimes  and  Punishments  (Greek),  Demons 

and  Spirits  (Greek). 


AUTHORS  OP  ARTICLES  IN  THIS  VOLUME 


Peters  (John  Punnett),  Ph.D.,  D.D.,  Sc.D. 
Rector  of  St.  Michael's  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church,  New  York. 
Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Hebrew). 

Petkie  (William  Matthew  Flinders),  D.C.L. 
(Oxon.),  LL.D.  (Edin.  and  Aber.),  Litt.D. 
(Camb.),  Ph.D.  (Strassburg). 
Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society  and  of  the  British 
Academy  ;  Edwards  Professor  of  Egyptology 
in  the  University  of  London. 
Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Egyptian). 

Phillips  (David),  B.A.  (Wales),  M.A.  (Cantab.). 
Professor  of  the  Philosophy  and   History  of 
Religion  in  the  Theological  College,  Bala, 
North  Wales. 
Consent. 

Pinches  (Theophilus  Goldridge),  LL.D.  (Glas.), 
M.R.A.S. 
Lecturer  in  Assyrian  at   University  College, 
London,  and  at  the  Institute  of  Archaeology, 
Liverpool ;    Hon.    Member    of    the    Society 
Asiatique. 
Conscience    (Babylonian),    Creed    (Bab.- 
Assyrian),    Crimes    and    Punishments 
(Assyro-Baby  Ionian ). 

Pope  (Robert  Martin),  M.A  (Camb.  and  Man- 
chester). 
Author  of  Cathemerinon  of  Prudentius. 
Contempt,  Contentment. 

Poussin   (Louis    de    la    Vallee),    Docteur   en 
philosophie  et   lettres   (Liege),   en  langues 
orientales  (Louvain). 
Professeur  de  Sanscrit  a  1'universite  de  Gand  ; 
Correspondant  de  l'Aeademie  royale  de  Bel- 
gique ;   Co-directeur  du   Museon  ;    Membre 
de  la  R.A.S.  et  de  la  Societe  Asiatique. 
Cosmogony  and   Cosmology  (Buddhist), 
Councils   (Buddhist),    Death   and   Dis- 
posal of  the  Dead  (Buddhist). 

Prufkr  (Curt),  Ph.D. 

Oriental  Secretary  to  the  German  Diplomatic 
Agency  for  Egypt. 
Drama  (Arabic). 

Quinton  (Richard  Frith),  M.D. 

Late  Governor  and  Medical  Officer  of  H.M. 
Prison  Holloway. 
Criminology. 

Rapson  (Edward  James),  M.A. 

Professor  of    Sanskrit  in   the   University   of 
Cambridge. 
Drama  (Indian). 

Rkid  (James  Smith),  M.A.,  LL.D.,  Litt.D. 

Fellow  and  late  Tutor  of  Gonville  and  Caius 
College ;  Professor  of  Ancient  History  in  the 
University  of  Cambridge. 
Crimes      and      Punishments     (Roman), 
Demons  and  Spirits  (Roman). 

Revon  (Michel),  LL.D.,  D.Lit. 

Late  Professor  of  Law  in  the  Imperial  Uni- 
versity of  Tokyo  and  Legal  Adviser  to  the 
Japanese  Government ;  Professor  of  History 
of  the  Civilization  of  the  Far  East  in  the 
University  of  Paris;  author  of  Le  Shinntoisme. 
Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Japanese), 
Divination  (Japanese). 

Robinson  (David  Moore),  Ph.D. 

Associate  Professor  of  Classical  Archaeology  in 
Johns  Hopkins  University. 
Drama  (Greek). 


Robinson  (Fred  Norris),  Ph.D. 

Professor  of  English  in  Harvard  University. 
Deae  Matres. 

Rose  (Herbert  Jennings),  M.A.  (Oxon.). 

Associate  Professor  of  Classics  in  McGill  Uni- 
versity, Montreal ;  sometime  Fellow  of 
Exeter  College,  Oxford. 

Divination  (Introductory  and  Primitive, 
Greek). 

ROSS  (George  R.  T.),  M.A.,  D.Phil. 

Professor  of   Philosophy  in   the  Government 
College,  Rangoon  ;  author  of  Aristotle's  De 
Sensu  and  De  Memoria,  and  joint-author  of 
The  Philosophical  Works  of  Descartes. 
Decision. 

Sayce  (Archibald  Henry),  D.Litt.  (Oxon.), 
LL.D.  (Dublin),  D.D.  (Edin.  and  Aber.). 
Fellow  of  Queen's  College  and  Professor  of 
Assyriology  in  the  University  of  Oxford ; 
President  of  the  Society  of  Biblical 
Archaeology. 
Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Babylonian). 

Schaff  (David  Schley),  D.D.  (Univ.  of  Geneva, 
etc. ). 
Professor  of  Church  History  in  the  Western 
Theological  Seminary,  Pittsburgh,  Pa. 
Councils  and   Synods  (Mediaeval   Chris- 
tian), Discipline  (Christian). 

Schrader  (Otto),  Dr.  phil.  et  jur.  h.c. 

Ordentlicher  Professor  fiir  vergleichende 
Sprachforschung  an  der  Universitat  zu  Bres- 
lau ;  author  of  Prehistoric  Antiquities  of 
the  Aryan  Peoples. 

Crimes  and  Punishments  (Teutonic  and 
Slavic),  Death  and  Disposal  of  the  Dead 
(Slavic),  Divination  (Litu-Slavic). 

Scott  (Charles  Anderson),  M.A.  (Camb.). 

Professor  of  New  Testament  in  Westminster 
College,  Cambridge. 
Donatists. 

Scott  (William  Major),  M.A. 

Minister    of    George     Street    Congregational 
Church,    Croydon ;    author    of    Aspects    of 
Christian  Mysticism,  The  Life  of  John  Howe. 
Devotion  and  Devotional  Literature. 

Scott-Moncrieff  (Philip  David),  M.A. 

Late  Assistant  in  the  Department  of  Egyptian 
and   Assyrian   Antiquities    in    the    British 
Museum. 
Coptic  Church,    Death  and  Disposal  of 
the  Dead  (Coptic). 

Seligmann  (Charles  G.).  M.D. 

Lecturer  in   Ethnology   in  the  University  of 
London ;    author    of    The    Melanesians    of 
British   New   Guinea,   and   joint-author  of 
The  Veddas. 
Dinka. 

Sergi  (Giuseppe). 

Professor  of  Anthropology  in  the  University 
of  Rome. 

Death  and  Disposal  of  the  Dead  (Greek). 

Shaw  (Charles  Gray),  Ph.D. 

Professor  of  Philosophy  in  the  University  of 
New    York ;    author    of    Christianity    and 
Modern  Culture,  The  Precinct  of  Religion, 
TJie  Value  and  Dignity  of  Human  Life. 
Culture,  Desire. 


AUTHORS  OP  ARTICLES  IN  THIS  VOLUME 


Showerman  (Grant),  Ph.D. 

Professor  of  Latin  in  the  University  of  Wis- 
consin ;   Fellow  in  the  American  School  of 
Classical  Studies  at  Rome,  1898-1900. 
Criobolium,  Cybele,  Death  and  Disposal 
of  the  Dead  (Roman). 

Smith  (Kirby  Flower),  Ph.D.  (Johns  Hopkins), 
LL.D.  (Vermont). 
Professor    of    Latin    in    the   Johns    Hopkins 
University. 
Drama  (Roman). 

Smith  (Mary  Campbell),  M.A. 
Dundee. 

Controversy. 

Soderblom  (Nathan),  D.D.  (Paris),  Hon.  D.D. 
(Geneva,  Christiania,  St.  Andrews). 
FJeve  diplome  de  l'fieole  des  Hautes  Etudes  ; 
Professor    in    the    University    of    Upsala ; 
Member  of  the   Chapter  of   Upsala ;    Pre- 
bendary of  Holy  Trinity  in  Upsala. 
Creed  (Parsi),  Death  and  Disposal  of  the 
Dead  (Parsi). 

Spence  (Lewis). 

Edinburgh  ;  author  of  Mythologies  of  Ancient 
Mexico  and  Peru,  The  Popol   Vuh,  A  Dic- 
tionary of  Mythology,    The  Civilisation   of 
Ancient  Mexico. 
Cosmogony     and     Cosmology     (North 
American),  Covenant  (American),  Cross 
(American),  Divination  (American). 

Stamouli  (Anton  Anastasion). 

Formerly  on  the  editorial  staff  of  the  Greek 
daily  '  Atlantis '  of  New  York. 
Doukhobors. 

Starbuck  (Edwin  Diller),  Ph.D. 

Professor  of  Philosophy  in  the  State  Uni- 
versity of  Iowa ;  author  of  The  Psychology 
of  Religion. 

Double-mindedness,  Doubt. 

Stawell  (Florence  Melian). 

Certificated    Student    of    Newnham   College, 
Cambridge  (Classical  Tripos,  1892,  Part  I. 
Class  I.    Div.    I.);    sometime    Lecturer    in 
Classics  at  Newnham  College. 
Cyrenaics. 

Stokes  (George  J.),  M.A.  (Trinity  College, 
Dublin). 
Of  Lincoln's  Inn,  Barrister-at-Law  j  Professor 
of  Philosophy  and  Jurisprudence  in  Uni- 
versity College,  Cork,  National  University 
of  Ireland. 
Delict. 

Stone  (Darwell),  M.A.,  D.D. 

Principal  Pusey  Librarian,  Oxford  j  author 
of  A  History  of  the  Doctrine  of  the  Holy 
Eucharist. 

Councils  (Early  Christian). 

Strahan  (James),  M.A. 
Edinburgh. 

Conversion,  Creation,  Criticism  (Old  Tes- 
tament), Divine  Right. 

Sudhoff  (Prof.  Dr.  Karl). 

Direktor    des    Institnts    fiir    Geschichte    der 
Medizin  an  der  Universitat  zu  Leipzig. 
Disease  and  Medicine  (Teutonic). 


TAKAKUSU(JYUN),M.A.,D.Litt.(Oxford),Dr.Phil. 
(Leipzig). 
Professor    of    Sanskrit  in   the   University   of 
Tokyo. 
Dhyana. 

Taylor  (Alfred  Edward),  M.A.  (Oxon.),  D.Litfc. 
(St.  Andrews). 
Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  in  the  United 
College  of  SS.  Salvator  and  Leonard,  St. 
Andrews ;  late  Fellow  of  Merton  College, 
Oxford ;  Fellow  of  the  British  Academy ; 
author  of  The  Problem  of  Conduct  (1901), 
Elements  of  Metaphysics  (1903),  Varia 
Socratica  (1911). 
Continuity. 

Thompson  (R.  Campbell),  M. A.,  F.S. A.,  F.R.G.S. 
Formerly    Assistant    in    the    Department  of 
Egyptian  and  Assyrian  Antiquities  in  the 
British  Museum  (1899-1905) ;  formerly  As- 
sistant Professor  of  Semitic  Languages  in 
the  University  of  Chicago  (1907-1909). 
Demons  and  Spirits  (Assyro- Babylonian), 
Disease    and    Medicine  (Assyro-Baby- 
lonian). 

Thomson  (J.  Arthur),  M.A. 

Regius  Professor  of  Natural  History  in  the 
University  of  Aberdeen ;  author  of  The 
Study  of  Animal  Life,  The  Science  of  Life, 
Heredity,  The  Bible  of  Nature,  Darwinism 
and  Human  Life. 

Consanguinity,  Development  (Biological). 

Thraemer  (Eduard),  Dr. Phil. 

Ausserordentlicher    Professor    fiir    classische 
Alterthumswissenschaft  an  der  Universitat 
zu  Strassburg,  seit  1909  emeritiert. 
Disease     and      Medicine     (Greek     and 
Roman). 

Thurston  (Herbert),  B.A.,  S.J. 

Joint-Editor  of  the  Westminster  Library  for 

Priests   and   Students ;    author  of   Life   of 

St.    Hugh  of  Lincoln,    The    Holy    Year   of 

Jubilee,  The  Stations  of  the  Cross. 

Confirmation  (Roman  Catholic),  Councils 

(Modern  Christian). 

Tod  (David  Macrae),  M.A.,  B.D.  (Edin.). 

Minister  of  St.  James'  Presbyterian  Church, 
Huddersfield ;  formerly  Cunningham  Fellow, 
New  College,  Edinburgh. 
Covetousness. . 

Traill  (John). 

Late  Missionary  of  the  United  Free  Church  of 
Scotland  at  Jaipur,  Rajputana. 
Dadu,  Dadupanthis. 

Troeltsch  (Ernst),  Dr.  theol.,  phil.  jur. 

Geheimer   Kirchenrat ;    Professor   der   Theo- 
logie  an  der  Universitat  zu  Heidelberg. 
Contingency. 

Waddell  (L.  Austine),  C.B.,  CLE.,  LL.D., 
F.L.S.,  F.R.A.I.,  M.R.A.S.,  Lt.-Colonel, 
I.M.S. 
Late  Professor  of  Tibetan  in  University  Col- 
lege, London ;  author  of  Tlie  Buddhism  oj 
Tibet,  Tribes  of  the  BroJm^putra  Valley, 
Lhasa  and  its  Mysteries. 

Death  and  Disposal  of  the  Dead 
(Tibetan),  Demons  and  Spirits  (Bud- 
dhist, Tibetan),  Divination  (Buddhist). 


CROSS-REFERENCES 


Walker  (Williston),  Ph.D.,  D.D.,  L.H.D. 

Titus  Street  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  His- 
tory in  Yale  University. 
Congregationalism. 

Walshe  (W.  Gilbert),  M.A. 

London  Secretary  of  Christian  Literature 
Society  for  China  ;  late  '  James  Long '  Lec- 
turer ;  author  of  Confucius  and  Con- 
fucianism ;  editor  of  China. 

Confucius,  Cosmogony  and  Cosmology 
(Chinese),  Crimes  and  Punishments 
(Chinese),  Death  and  Disposal  of  the 
Dead  (Chinese). 

Watt  (Wellstood  Alexander),  M.A.,  LL.B., 
D.Phil. 
Author  of  A  n   Outline  of  Legal  Philosophy, 
The  Theory  of  Contract  in  its  Social  Light, 
A  Study  of  Social  Morality. 
Contract. 

Wenley  (Robert  Mark),  D.Phil.,  LL.D.  (Glas- 
gow), D.Sc.  (Edinburgh),  Litt.D.  (Hobart). 
Professor  of  Philosophy  in  the  University  of 
Michigan ;  author  of  Modern  Thought  and 
the  Crisis  in  Belief,  Kant  and  His  Philo- 
sophical Revolution. 

Conscientiousness,  Cynics. 

Whitley  (William  Thomas),  M.A.,  LL.D., 
F.R.Hist.S.,  F.T.S. 
Secretary  of  the  Baptist  Historical  Society ; 
formerly  Principal  of  the  Baptist  College  of 
Victoria,  and  Secretary  of  the  Victorian 
Baptist  Foreign  Mission. 
Connexionalism. 

Wilde  (Norman),  Ph.D. 

Professor  of  Philosophy  and  Psychology  in  the 
University  of  Minnesota. 
Doubt 


Willett  (Herbert  Lockwood),  A.M.,  Ph.D. 
Associate  Professor  of  Semitic  Languages  and 
Literatures,    and    Dean    of    the    Disciples' 
Divinity  House,  in  the  University  of  Chicago. 
Disciples  of  Christ. 

Wilson  (George  K.),  M.D.,  M.R.C.P.  (Edin.). 
Late    Medical    Superintendent    of    Allanton 
House ;  author  of  Drunkenness,    Vice  and 
Insanity. 
Delusion. 

Wissowa  (Georg),  Dr.  jur.  et  phil. 

Ordentlicher  Professor  an  der  Universitat  zu 
Halle ;  Geheimer  Regierungsrat. 
Divination  (Roman). 

Woods  (Francis  Henry),  M.A.,  B.D. 

Rector  of  Bainton,   Yorkshire ;   late  Fellow 
and    Theological    Lecturer    of    St.    John's 
College,  Oxford. 
Deluge. 

Workman  (Herbert  B.),  M.A.,  D.Lit. 

Principal  of  Westminster  Training  College ; 
Member  of  the  Board  of  Studies .  in  the 
Faculty  of  Theology,  London  University; 
author  of  The  Dawn  of  the  Reformation, 
Persecution  in  the  Early  Church,  and  Chris- 
tian Thought  to  the  Reformation. 
Constantino,  Crusades. 

Wunsch  (Richard),  Dr.Phil. 

Ordentlicher  Professor  der  Klassischeri  Phil- 
ologie  an  der  Universitat  zu  Kbnigsberg. 
Cross-roads  (Roman). 

Youngert  (Sven  Gustaf),  Ph.D.,  D.D. 

Professor  of  Philosophy  and  Greek  New  Testa- 
ment Exegesis  at  Augustana  College  and 
Theological  Seminary,  Rock  Island,  111. 
Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Teutonic). 


CROSS-REFERENCES 


In  addition  to  the  cross-references  throughout  the  volume,  the  following  list 
of  minor  references  may  be  useful : 


Topic. 
Conflict  of  Duties 
Conformity  (Religious) 
Congo  .... 
Conjeeveram 
Conservation 
Constitutions 

Consnbstantiation 
Corvee  .... 
Cosmic  Egg . 

Cosmography  .        . 

Cowardice    .  . 

Creationism .  . 

Credulity     .  > 


Probable  Title  of  Article. 
Casuistry,  Duty. 
Nonconformity. 
Negroes  and  West  Africa. 
Kanchi-puram. 
Energy,  Force. 
Bulls  and  Briefs,  Luther- 

anism. 
Eucharist,  Lutheranism. 
Labour. 

Cosmogony   and    Cosmo- 
logy- 
Geography  (Mythical). 
Courage. 
Soul. 
Beliaf. 


Topic. 
Darbyism     . 
Dastur. 
Dayaks 

Debendra  Nath  Tagore 
Debt     ..... 
Decree .... 
Dependent  Origination 
Deprivation . 
Diana  .... 
Diaspora 
Dionysos 
Dioscuri 

Disestablishment 
Doppers 
Dragon 


Probable  Title  op  Article. 
Brethren  (Plymouth). 
Priesthood  (Parsi). 
Indonesia. 
Brahma  SamSj. 
Usury. 
Election. 

Paticca-Samuppada. 
Atimia,  Discipline. 
Roman  Religion. 
Judaism. 

Greek  Religion,  Drama. 
Greek  Religion,  Twins. 
State. 

Sects  (Chr.). 

Cosmogony   and    Cosmo- 
logy, Symbols. 


LISTS    OF   ABBREVIATIONS 


L  General 


A.H.=Adiio  Hijrae  (A. v.  622). 

Ak.  =  Akkadian. 

Alex.  =  Alexandrian. 

Amer.  =  American. 

Apoc.  =  Apocalypse,  Apocalyptic 

Apocr.  =  Apocrypha. 

Aq.  =  Aquila. 

Arab.  =  Arabic. 

Aram.  =  Aramaic. 

Arm.  =  Armenian. 

Ary.  =  Aryan. 

As.  =  Asiatic. 

Assyr.  =  Assyrian. 

AT  =  Altes  Testament. 

A  V  =  Authorized  Version. 

A  Vm  =  Authorized  Version  margin. 

A.Y.  =  Anno  Yazdigird  (A.D.  639). 

Bab.  =  Babylonian. 

c.  =  circa,  about. 

Can.  =  Canaanite. 

cf .  =  compare. 

ct.  =  contrast. 

D  =  Deuteronomist. 

E  =  Elobist. 

edd.  =  editions  or  editors. 

Egyp-  =  Egyptian. 

Eng.  =  English. 

Eth.  =  Ethiopic. 

EV  =  English  Version. 

f.  =and  following  verse  or  page  :  as  Ac  10*"- 

ff.  =  and  following  verses  or  pages:  as  Mt  ll88"- 

Kr.  =  French. 

Germ.  =  German. 

Gr.=  Greek. 

H  =  Law  of  Holiness. 

Heb.  =  Hebrew. 

Hel.  =  Hellenistic 

Hex.  =  Hexateuch. 

Himy.  =Himyaritic 

Ir.  =  Irish. 

Iran.  =  Iranian. 


Isr.  =  Israelite. 

J  =  Jahwist. 

J" = Jehovah. 

Jerus.  =  Jerusalem. 

Jos.  =  Josephus. 

LXX  =  Septuagint. 

Min.  =  Minsean. 

MSS  =  Manuscripts. 

MT  =  Massoretic  Text 

n.  =note. 

NT  =  New  Testament. 

Onk.  =  Onkelos. 

OT  =  01d  Testament. 

P  =  Priestly  Narrative. 

Pal.  =  Palestine,  Palestinian, 

Pent.  =  Pentateuch. 

Pers.  =  Persian. 

Phil.  =  Philistine 

Phoen.  =  Phoenician. 

Pr.  Bk.  =  Prayer  Book. 

R  =  Redactor. 

Rom.  =  Roman. 

RV  =  Revised  Version. 

RVm  =  Revised  Version  margin. 

Sab.  =  Sabaean. 

Sam.  =  Samaritan. 

Sem.  =  Semitic. 

Sept.  =  Septuagint. 

Sin.  =  Sinaitic. 

Skr.  =  Sanskrit. 

Symm.  =Symmachns. 

Syr.  =Syriac. 

t.  (following  a  number)  =  times. 

Talm.  =  Talmud. 

Targ.  =  Targum. 

Theod.=Theodotion. 

TR  =  Textus  Receptus. 

tr.  =  translated  or  translation. 

VSS  =  Versions. 

Vulg.  =  Vulgate. 

WH  =  Westcott  and  Hort's  text. 


II.  Books  of  the  Biblb 


Old  Testament. 


Gn= Genesis. 

Ex  =  Exodus. 

Lv  =  Leviticus. 

Nu=  Numbers 

Dt  =  Deuteronomy. 

J  os = Joshua. 

Jg  =  Judges. 

Ru  =  Ruth. 

1  S,  2S  =  1  and  2  Samuel. 

1  K,  2K=1  and  2  Kings. 

1    Ch,    2    Ch  =  l    and    2 

Chronicles. 
Ezr=  Ezra. 
Neh  =  Nehemiah. 
Est  =  Esther. 
Job. 

l's=  Psalms. 
Pr  =  Proverbs. 
Ec  =  Ecclesiastes. 

Apocrypha . 

I     Es,    2    Es  =  l    and     2    To  =  Tobit. 
Esdraa.  Jth  =  Judith. 


Ca= Canticles. 
Is  =  Isaiah. 
Jer= Jeremiah. 
La  =  Lamentations. 
Ezk  =  Ezekiel. 
Dn  =  Daniel. 
Hos  =  Hosea. 
Jl=Joel. 
Am  =  Amos. 
Ob  =  Obadiah. 
Jon  =  Jonah. 
Mic  =  Micah. 
Nah  =  Nahum. 
Hab  =  Habakkuk. 
Zeph  =  Zephaniah. 
Hag  =  Haggai. 
Zec=Zechariali. 
Mal  =  Malachi. 


Ad.     Est  =  Additions    to    Sus  =  Susanna. 


Esther. 


Bel  =  Bel      and       the 


Wis = Wisdom.  Dragon. 

Sir  =  Sirach   or    Ecclesi-  Pr.    Man  =  Prayer    oi 

asticus.  Manasses. 

Bar=Barucli.  1  Mac,  2  Mac  =  l  and  2 

Three  =  Song  of  the  Three  Maccabees- 
Children. 

New  Testament. 


Mt  =  Matthew. 

Mk  =  Mark. 

Lk  =  Luke. 

Jn  =  John. 

Ac  =  Acts. 

Ro  =  Romans. 

1    Co,    2   Co  =  1   and    2 

Corinthians. 
Gal  =  Galatians. 
Epli  =  Ephesians. 
Ph  =  Philippians. 
Col  =  Colossians. 


1   Th,   2  Th  =  l   and  <i 

Thessaloniaus. 
1   Ti,   2  Ti=l    and    2 

Timothy. 
Tit  =  Titus. 
Philem  =  Philemon. 
He  =  Hebrews. 
Ja  =  James. 
1  P,  2  P=  land  2  Peter 
1  Jn,  2  Jn,  3  Jn  =  l,  % 

and  3  John. 
Jude. 
Rev  =  Revelation. 


LISTS  OF  ABBREVIATIONS 


III.  For  the  Literature 

The  following  authors'  names,  when  unaccompanied  by  the  title  of  a  book.  s*and  for 
the  works  in  the  list  below. 


Ba,ethgen= Beitrage  zur  sem.  Beligionsgesch.,  1888. 
Baldwin =Dict.   of    Philosophy    and    Psychology, 

3  vols.  1901-1905. 
IiB.Tth  =  Nominalbildung    in    den   sem.    Sprachen, 

2  vols.  1889,  1891  (21894). 
Benzinger  =  Heb.  Archaologie,  1894. 
Brockelmann  =  Gesch.  d.  arab.  Litteratur,  2  vols. 

1897-1902. 
Bruns  -  Sachau  =  Syr.  ■  Bom.  Bechtsbuch  cms  dem 

fiinften  Jahrhundert,  1880. 
Budge  =  Gods  of  the  Egyptians,  2  vols.  1903. 
Daremberg-Saglio =Z)ie<.   des  ant.   grec.  et  rom., 

1886-90. 
Dela,Sa.uesa,ye=Lehrbuchder  Beligionsgesch.',  1905. 
Deussen  =  .Die  Philos.  d.   Upanishads,  1899  [Eng. 

tr.,  1906]. 
Doughty= Arabia  Deserta,  2  vols.  1888. 
Grimm  =  Deutsche  Mythologie*,  3  vols.  1875-1878, 

Eng.  tr.  Teutonic  Mythology,  4  vols.  1882-1888. 
Hamburger  =  Bealencyclopddie fur Bibel  u.  Talmud, 

i.  1870  (31892),  ii.  1883,  suppl.  1886,  1891  f.,  1897. 
Holder  =  A  Itceltischer  Sprachschatz,  1891  if. 
Holtzmann-Zopffel  =  Lexicon  f.  Thiol,  u.  Kirchen- 

weseri3,  1895. 
Howitt=Jv"fl!<we  Tribes  of  S.  E.  Australia,  1904. 
Jastrow  =  Z}ie  Religion  Babyloniens  u.  Assyriens, 

2  vols.  1902-1905. 
Jubainville  =  Cours  de  Litt.  celtique,  i.-xii. ,  1883  ff. 
Lagrange  =  Etudes  surles  religions  stmitiques3, 1904. 
Lane  =  5lre  Arabic-English  Dictionary,  1863  ff. 
La,Tig  =  Myth,  Ritual  and  Beligion3,  2  vols.  1899. 
LepsAus= Denkmaler  aus  Mgypten  u.  Mthiopien, 

1849-1860. 
Lichtenberger =Encyc.  des  sciences  religieuses,  1876. 
Lidzbarski  =  .flramrf&?«;A  der  nordsem.   Epigraphik, 

1898. 
McCurdy  =  History ,  Prophecy,  and  the  Monuments, 

2  vols.  1894-1896. 
Man  =  Sanskrit  Texts,  1858-1872. 
Muss-ArnoIt=.i4    Concise   Diet,    of  the    Assyrian 

Language,  1894  ff. 


Nowack=XeAr6«cA    d.   heb.   Archaologie,   2  vol*. 

1894. 
Pauly-Wissowa=iJeaZe?ic«/c.  der  classischen  Alter- 

tumswissenschaft,  1893-1895. 
Perrot-Chipiez  =  i?is<.  de  VArt   dans    I'Antiquitt, 

1881  ff. 
Preller= Bomische  Mythologie,  1858. 
Reville=iJeii^ion.  des  peuples  non-civilises,  1883. 
Riehm  =  Handworterbuch  d.  bibl.  Altertums3,  1893- 

1894. 
Robinson  =  Biblical  Besearches  in  Palestine 2,  1 856. 
Roscher  =  Zea;.  d.  gr.  u.  rom.  Mythologie,  1884. 
Schaff-Herzog  =  T««   New  Schaff-Herzog  Encyclo- 
pedia of  Belig.  Knowledge,  1908  ff. 
Schenkel  =  Bibel- Lexicon,  5  vols.  1869-1875. 
Schurer  =  <?JT»,  3  vols.   1898-1901  [HJP,  5  vols. 

1890  ff.]. 
Schwally  =  Leben  nach  dem  Tode,  1892. 
Siegfried-Stade  =  Heb.  Worterbuch  zum  AT,  1893. 
Smend  =  Lehrbuch  der  alttest.  Religionsgesch.1, 1899. 
Smith  (G.  A.)  =  Historical  Geography  of  the  Holy 

Land*,  1896. 
Smith  (W.  R.)=Religion  of  the  Semites2,  1894. 
Spencer  (H.)  =  Principles  of  Sociology3,  1885-1896. 
Spencer-GiDen'—NativeTribesof  Central  Australia, 

1899. 
Spencer-Gillen b  =  Northern     Tribes     of     Central 

Australia,  1904. 
Swete  =  7%e  OT  in  Greek,  3  vols.  1893  ff. 
Tylor  (E.  B.)  =  Primitive  Culture3,  1891  [41903]. 
Ueberweg  =  Hist,  of  Philosophy,  Eng.  tr. ,  2  vols. 

1872-1874. 
Weber —Judische  Theologie  auf  Grund  des  Talmud 

u.  verwandten  Schriften3,  1897. 
Wiedemann  =  Die   Religion    der   alten  jEgypter, 

1890  [Eng.  tr.,  revised,  Religion  of  the  anc. 

Egyptians,  1897]. 
Wilkinson  =  Manners  and  Customs  of  the  Ancient 

Egyptians,  3  vols.  1878. 
Zunz= Die  gottesdienstlichen  Vortrdge  der  Juden3, 

1892. 


2.  Periodicals,  Dictionaries,  Encyclopaedias,  and  other  standard  works  frequently  cited. 


A  A  =  Archiv  fur  Anthropologic. 

AAOJ  =  American  Antiquarian  and  Oriental 
Journal. 

A  BA  W  =  Abhandlungen  d.  Berliner  Akad.  d. 
Wissenschaften. 

AE= Archiv  fur  Ethnographie. 

AEG=Assyr.  and  Eng.  Glossary  (Johns  Hopkins 
University). 

A  GG= Abhandlungen  d.  Gbttinger  Gesellschaft 
der  Wissenschaften. 

A  GPh  =  Archiv  fiir  Geschichte  der  Philosophie. 

AHR= American  Historical  Review. 

AHT= Ancient  Hebrew  Tradition  (Ilommel). 

A  JPh  =  American  Journal  of  Philosophy. 

A  JPs  =  American  Journal  of  Psychology. 

A  JRPE  =  American  Journal  of  Religious  Psycho- 
logy and  Education. 

A  JSL  =  American  Journal  of  Semitic  Languages 
and  Literature. 

A  JTh  =  American  Journal  of  Theology. 

AMG  =  Annales  du  Musee  Guimet. 

/l.P.E»S=Ameriean  Palestine  Exploration  Society. 

APF=  Archiv  fiir  Papyrusforschung. 

AR= Anthropological  Review. 

ARW=  Archiv  fiir  Religionswissenschaft. 

AS=  Acts.  Sanctorum  (Bollandus). 


ASG= Abhandlungen  der  Sachsischen  Gesellschaft 

der  Wissenschaften. 
ASoc  =  LAnnee  Sociologique. 
A  S  WI = Archaeological  Survey  of  W.  India. 
AZ= Allgemeine  Zeitung. 
BA  G  =  Beitrage  zur  alten  Geschichte. 
BASS=  Beitrage  zur  Assyriologie  u.  sem.  Sprach- 

wissenschaft  (edd.  Delitzsch  and  Haupt). 
BCH= Bulletin  de  Correspondance  Hellenique. 
BE= Bureau  of  Ethnology. 
BG  =  Bombay  Gazetteer. 
£J"=Bellum  Judaicum  (Josephus). 
.BZ  =  Bampton  Lectures. 
BLE  =  Bulletin  de  Litterature  Ecclesiastique. 
BOB  =  Bab.  and  Oriental  Record. 
BS=Bibliotheca  Sacra. 

BSA  = Annual  of  the  British  School  at  Athens. 
BSAA  =  Bulletin  de  la  Soc.  archeologique  a  Alex- 

andrie. 
BSAL= Bulletin  de  la  Soe.  d'Anvhropologiede  Lyon 
BSAP= Bulletin  de  la  Soc.  d' Anthropologic,  etc. 

Paris. 
BSG  —  Bulletin  de  la  Soc.  de  Geographie. 
BTS=  Buddhist  Text  Society. 
BW=  Biblical  World. 
£Z=Biblische  Zeitschrift. 


LIST  OP  ABBREVIATIONS 


xv 


CA1BL  =Comptes  rendus  de  lAcademie  des  In- 
scriptions et  Belles- Lettres. 
CBTS^Calcutta  Buddhist  Text  Society. 
C^=Childhood  of  Fiction  (MacCulloch). 
C(?S'=Cults  of  the  Greek  States  (Farnell). 
C/=Census  of  India. 
CIA  =Corpus  Inscrip.  Atticarum. 
C7£=Corpus  Inscrip.  Etruscarum. 
CIG  =  Corpus  Inscrip.  Graeearum. 
CIL  —  Corpus  Inscrip.  Latinarum. 
C/iS'=Corpus  Inscrip.  Semiticarum. 
COT — Cuneiform  Inscriptions  and  the  OT  [Eng. 

tr.  of  KA  T2 ;  see  below]. 
CB= Contemporary  Review. 
CeB  =  Celtic  Review. 
CIE= Classical  Review. 
CQR=  Church  Quarterly  Review. 
CSEL  =  Corpus  Script.  Eccles.  Latinorum. 
DACL  =  Diet.    d'Archeologie    chretienne   et    de 

Liturgie  (Cabrol). 
DB  =  T>iet.  of  the  Bible. 
DCA  =  Diet,    of    Christian    Antiquities  (Smith- 

Cheetham). 
DCB  =  Diet,  of  Christian  Biography  (Smith-Wace). 
DCG  =  Diet,  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels. 
DI =Dict.  of  Islam  (Hughes). 
DNB  =  Diet,  of  National  Biography. 
DPhP= Diet,  of  Philosophy  and  Psychology. 
DWA  IF=  Denkschrif  ten  der  Wiener   Akad.   der 

Wissenschaften. 
EBi= Encyclopaedia  Biblica. 
EBr  =  Encyclopaedia  Britannica. 
EEFM=~Egyp,  Explor.  Fund  Memoirs. 
ERE =The  present  work. 
Exp  =  Expositor. 
ExpT=  Expository  Times. 
FHG  =  Fragmen ta   Historicorum  Graecorum  (coll. 

C.  Miiller,  Paris,  1885). 
FL-  Folklore. 
FLJ=  Folklore  Journal. 
FLR  =  Folklore  Record. 
GA  =  Gazette  Archeologique. 
GB2= Golden  Bough2  (Frazer). 
GGA  =G6ttingische  Gelehrte  Anzeigen. 
GGiV=G6ttingische  Gelehrte  Nachrichten  (Nach- 

richten  der  konigl.  Gesellschaft  der  Wissen- 
schaften zu  Gottingen). 
G.L4P=Grundriss  d.  Indo-Arischen  Philologie. 
6r/rP=Grundriss  d.  Iranischen  Philologie. 
GJ"F=Geschiehte  des  Jiidischen  Volkes. 
GF/=Geschichte  des  Volkes  Israel. 
HDB  =  Hastings'  Diet,  of  the  Bible. 
HE  =  Historia  Ecclesiastica. 
HGHL  =  Historical  Geography  of  the  Holy  Land 

(G.  A.  Smith). 
HI=  History  of  Israel. 
HJ=  Hibbert  Journal. 
HJP  =  History  of  the  Jewish  People. 
EN=  Historia  Naturalis  (Pliny). 
HWB  =  Handwbrterbuch. 
I  A  =  Indian  Antiquary. 
ICC=  International  Critical  Commentary. 
ICO  =  International  Congress  of  Orientalists. 
ICR  =  Indian  Census  Report  (1901). 
IG  =  Inscrip.  Graecae  (publ.  under  auspices  of  Berlin 

Academy,  1873  ft'.). 
IGA  —  Inscrip.  Graecae  An tiquissimae. 
IGI=  Imperial   Gazetteer  of  India2  (1885);    new 

edition  (1908-1909). 
IJE  =  International  Journal  of  Ethics. 
ITL  —  International  Theological  Library. 
J  A  —  Journal  Asiatique. 
././4.FZ  =  Journal  of  American  Folklore. 
JAI=  Journal  of  the  Anthropological  Institute. 
J'^40S=Journal  of  the  American  Oriental  Society. 
JASB  =  Journal  of  the  Anthropological  Society  of 

Bombay. 
J  A  SBe  =  Journ.  of  As.  Soc.  of  Bengal. 
JBL  =  Journal  of  Biblical  Literature. 


JBTS=  Journal  of  the  Buddhist  Text  Society. 

JD  =  Journal  des  Debats. 

JDTh  =Jahrbiicher  f.  deutsche  Theologie. 

JE—  Jewish  Encyclopedia. 

</<?0S=Journal  of  the  German  Oriental  Society. 

JHC=Johna  Hopkins  University  Circulars. 

JUS  =  Journal  of  Hellenic  Studies. 

JLZ  =Jenaer  Litteraturzeitung. 

JPh  =  Journal  of  Philology. 

JPrA=Jahrbiicherf.  protest.  Theologie. 

JPTS— Journal  of  the  Pali  Text  Society. 

JQR= Jewish  Quarterly  Review. 

JRAI=  Journal  of  the  Royal  Anchropological  Inst. 

J KAs-=  Journal  ot  the  Koyal  Asiatic  Society. 

JRASBo  —  Journal  of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society, 

Bombay  branch. 
JRASC=do\xxna.\  of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society, 

Ceylon  branch. 
JRASK=  Journal  of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society, 

Korean  branch. 
JRGS= Journal  of  the  Royal  Geographical  Society. 
JThSt  =  Journal  of  Theological  Studies. 
KAT"  —  Die  Keilinschriften  und  das  AT  (Schrader), 

1883. 
■ftT-dr^Zimmern-Winekler's  ed.  of  the  preceding 

[really  a  totally  distinct  work],  1903. 
KB  or  A7.B  =  Keilinschriftliche  Bibliothek  (Schra- 
der), 1889  ft'. 
KGF  =  Keilinschriften     und     die     Geschichtsfor- 

schung,  1878. 
LCBl  =  Literarisches  Centralblatt. 
ZOPA  =  Literaturblatt  fiir  Oriental.  Philologie. 
L0T=  Introduction  to  Literature  of  OT  (Driver). 
iP  =  Legend  of  Perseus  (Hartland). 
i5(S'<  =  Leipziger  sem.  Studien. 
il/  =  Melusine. 
MA  IBL  =  Memoires  de  1' Acad,  des  Inscriptions  et 

Belles-Lettres. 
MBA  W  =  Monatsbericht    d.   Berliner  Akad.    d. 

Wissenschaften. 
M GH  =  Monumenta  Germaniae  Historica  (Pertz). 
il/Gt/F  =  Mittheilungen   der  Gesellschaft  fur  jiid- 

isehe  Volkskunde. 
MGWJ= Monatsbericht  f.  Gesehichte  u.  Wissen- 

schaft  des  Judentums. 
MI=  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral  Ifteas 

(Westermarck). 
MNDPV  =  Mittheilungen    u.    Nachrichten     des 

deutschen  Palastina-Vereins. 
MR  =  Methodist  Review. 

MVG  =  Mittheilungen  der  vorderasiatischen  Gesell- 
schaft. 
MWJ  —  Magazin     fiir     die     Wissenschaft     des 

Judentums. 
NBA  C=  Nuovo  Bulletino  di  Archeologia  Cristiana. 
JVC=  Nineteenth  Century. 
NH  Wi?  =  Neuhebraisch.es  Worterbuch. 
NINQ  —  North  Indian  Notes  and  Queries. 
A7f.£  =  Neue  kirchliche  Zeitschrift. 
NQ  =  Notes  and  Queries. 

NR  =  Native  Races  of  the  Pacific  States  (Bancroft). 
NTZG  =  Neutestamentliche  Zeitgeschichte. 
0ED  =  Oxford  English  Dictionary  (Murray). 
OLZ = Orientalische  Litteraturzeitung. 
OS=  Onomastica  Sacra. 
0TJC=  Old  Testament  in  the  Jewish  Church  (W. 

R.  Smith). 
OTP=  Oriental  Translation  Fund  Publications. 
PA  OS= Proceedings  of  American  Oriental  Society. 
PASB  =  Proceedings  of  the  Anthropological  Soc.  of 

Bombay. 
PB  =  Polychrome  Bible  (English). 
PBE  =  Publications  of  the  Bureau  of  Ethnology. 
PC=  Primitive  Culture  (Tylor). 
PEFM  =  Palestine  Exploration  Fund  Memoirs. 
PEFSt  =  Palestine  Exploration  Fund  Quarterly 

Statement. 
PG  =  Patrologia  Graeca  (Migne). 
PJB  =  Preussische  Jahrhiicher. 


XVI 


LISTS  OF  ABBREVIATIONS 


PL  =  Patrologia  Latina  (Migne). 

PNQ  =  Punjab  Notes  and  Queries. 

PR= Popular  Religion  and  Folklore  of  N.  India 

(Crooke). 
P.R.E  3=Prot.  Realencyelopadie  (Herzog-Hauck). 
PUB  —  Presbyterian  and  Reformed  Review. 
PBS= Proceedings  of  the  Royal  Society. 
PBSE=  Proceedings  Royal  Soc.  of  Edinburgh. 
PSBA  =  Proceedings  of  the  Soc.  of  Biblical  Archae- 
ology. 
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ENCYCLOPEDIA 

OF 

KELIGION    AND    ETHICS 


C 


CONFIRMATION.  — i.  Names.— The  word 
'confirmation,'  as  used  in  this  article,  indicates  an 
act,  closely  connected  with  baptism,  in  which 
prayer  for  the  Holy  Spirit  is  joined  with  some  cere- 
mony, such  as  the  laying  on  of  hands  or  anoint- 
ing, through  which  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  is  believed 
to  be  conferred.  So  long  as  confirmation  continued 
to  be  administered  at  the  same  time  as  baptism, 
the  two  forming  a  single  rite,  the  need  of  a  special 
name  for  the  former  was  not  much  felt.  The  rite 
as  a  whole  was  known  as  baptism,  and  the  part  of 
it  which  was  associated  with  the  gift  of  the  Spirit 
was  designated  by  terms  derived  from  its  most 
prominent  ceremony,  such  as  '  laying  on  of  hands ' 
(ivldeais  xeV">'>  He  62 ;  r\  xetP°^ea^a>  Clem.  Alex. 
Exc.  Th.  22;  Const.  Ap.  ii.  32,  iii.  16,  vii.  44  ;  cf.  Fir- 
milian,  ap.  Cyp.  Ep.  75 ;  impositio  manus)  and 
'  chrism.'  The  word  '  seal '  (oippayls),  originally,  it 
seems,  applied  to  baptism  (Hermas,  Sim.  IX.  xvi. 
2-4  ;  Iren.  Hem.  3),  was  early  used  of  confirmation, 
with  reference  to  the  signing  of  the  baptized  with 
the  cross  (Clem.  Alex.  Strom,  ii.  3 ;  Cornelius,  ap. 
Eus.  HE  VI.  xliii.  14  f.  ;  cf.  Const.  Ap.  iii.  17). 
'  Confirmation,'  now  universally  accepted  as  the 
name  of  the  rite  in  the  West,  does  not  appear  to 
have  been  so  used  before  the  5th  century.  It 
occurs  in  Faustus,  Bishop  of  Riez,  formerly  Abbot 
of  Lerins,  de  Sp.  S.  ii.  4  (ed.  Engelbrecht,  Vienna, 
1889,  p.  143),  horn,  in  die  Pent.  (Bigne,  Max.  Bib. 
Pat.,  Paris,  1677,  vi.  649),  and  the  cognate  verb  is 
similarly  applied  by  St.  Patrick  (Ep.  2),  who  spent 
some  years  at  Lerins.  It  appears,  therefore,  to 
have  originated  in  Gaul,  and  probably  at  Lerins, 
though  it  was  perhaps  not  fully  established  as  a 
name  of  the  rite  at  Lerins  when  St.  Patrick  left 
that  monastery  c.  A.D.  415  (Bury,  Life  of  St.  Patr., 
1905,  pp.  294,  336  ff.),  since  in  his  Confession  (38, 
51)  he  uses  the  word  consummate  instead  of 
confirmare.  St.  Ambrose  had  at  an  earlier  date 
used  the  latter  verb  with  a  similar  but  not  identical 
meaning  (de  Myst.  42) ;  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
5th  cent.  Pope  Leo  I.  (Ep.  159)  applies  it  to  the 
laying  on  of  hands  on  those  who  had  been  baptized 
in  heresy.  In  Egypt  at  the  present  day  the  rite 
is  called  tathbit — a  word  exactly  equivalent  to 
'  confirmation. '  In  the  9th  cent. ,  when  confirmation 
was  deferred,  the  newly  baptized  were  said  to  be 
*  confirmed '  by  the  reception  of  the  Holy  Communion 

VOL.  IV.  —  I 


(Alcuin,  Ep.  90 ;  Je*se  Ambian.  Ep.  de  bapt.  ; 
Amalarius,  de  Goer.  Bapt.  4 ;  Kaban.  Maur.  de 
Cler.  Inst.  i.  29). 

2.  Confirmation  in  the  Apostolic  Age. — A  study 
of  Ac  191"6 — the  account  of  the  twelve  disciples 
who  had  been  baptized  into  John's  baptism — seems 
to  yield  the  following  results.  St.  Paul's  first 
question  implies  that  a  reception  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
usually,  though  not  always,  synchronized  with 
admission  to  the  Christian  Society,  and  that  in  the 
case  of  disciples  whose  conversion  was  not  due  to 
the  preaching  of  him  or  his  immediate  companions 
(v.3  £\&@ere  TrurTtiuaPTcs).  It  is  also  implied  in 
what  follows  that  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  was 
not  a  result  of  the  act  of  baptism  (v.s),  but  that  it 
was  mediated,  at  least  in  St.  Paul's  practice,  by  a 
laying  on  of  hands  which  normally  followed  im- 
mediately upon  baptism  (v.6).  Since  apparently 
St.  Paul,  in  accordance  with  his  rule  (1  Co  l14"17), 
which  was  also  that  of  other  Apostles  (Ac  1048,  cf. 
2s8),  did  not  himself  baptize  the  Ephesian  disciples, 
though  he  laid  his  hands  upon  them  (v.81-  i^airrUr- 
Q-rjo-av  .  .  .  4ttl64vtos  rod  ILa.i\ov),  it  may  be  inferred 
that,  while  baptism  was  commonly  administered 
by  persons  of  lower  ministerial  rank,  confirmation 
was  reserved  for  those  who  had  a  higher  place  in 
the  ministry,  if  not  for  Apostles. 

These  conclusions  are  confirmed  by  the  narrative 
of  the  planting  of  the  Church  in  Samaria  (Ac  812"17). 
From  it  we  learn  that  the  practice  of  the  older 
Apostles  coincided  with  that  of  St.  Paul.  Baptism 
by  itself  did  not  convey  the  gift  of  the  Spirit. 
That  was  mediated  by  a  laying  on  of  hands  by 
Apostles,  with  prayer  for  the  Holy  Spirit  (vv.le-  "), 
the  baptisms  having  been  previously  performed  by 
Philip,  and  perhaps  by  others  of  inferior  ministerial 
office  who  accompanied  him.  It  is  hinted  that,  at 
least  when  St.  Luke  wrote,  according  to  established 
usage  the  bestowal  of  the  Holy  Spirit  was  not 
separated  in  time  from  the  administration  of 
baptism  (v.16). 

In  each  of  these  cases  the  reception  of  the  Spirit 
was  manifested  by  the  exercise  of  miraculous 
powers  (818  19°).  But  it  would  be  contrary  to  the 
teaching  of  the  NT  as  a  whole  to  suppose  that 
such  manifestations  were  of  the  essence  of  the 
gift.  If  we  may  suppose  (Chase,  Confirmation  in 
the  Apostolic  Age,  p.  35)  that  2  Ti  l6ff-   refers  to 


CONFIRMATION 


Timothy's  confirmation,  rather  than  to  his  ordina- 
tion, it  proves  that  the  graces  looked  for  as  a 
result  of  the  laying  on  of  hands  were  such  as 
'  power  and  love  and  soberness '  (cf.  Ac  241ff-, 
where  '  wonders  and  signs '  are  confined  to  the 
Apostles). 

The  inferences  which  have  here  been  drawn  from 
Ac  812"17  191"6  are  corroborated  by  many  references 
in  the  Epistles  to  a  reception  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on 
admission  to  the  Church  (Ro  56,  2  Co  5°,  Eph  l13'- 
430,  1  Jn  2"  3M),  in  some  of  which  St.  Paul  uses  the 
very  phrase  ascribed  to  him  by  St.  Luke,  as  point- 
ing to  a  laying  on  of  hands,  weO/xa  ^XttjSere  (Ro  81B, 
1  Co  212,  2  Co  ll4,  Gal  32'-),  while  others  appear  to 
indicate  that  the  bestowal  of  the  gift  was  an  act 
distinct  from  and  following  the  washing  (1  Co  6U 
1213,  2  Co  Is1'-,  Tit  34ff-).  To  these  may  be  added 
He  62,  where  f}airrurpu>l  Mdeals  re  x«P""  must  at 
least  include  a  laying  on  of  hands  closely  connected 
with  a  Christian  act  of  lustration. 

3.  A  review  of  the  evidence  afforded  by  the  NT, 
therefore,  leads  to  the  belief  that  in  the  Apostolic 
age  a  rite  of  confirmation  was  widely,  if  not 
universally,  used,  the  main  parts  of  which  were 
prayer  and  imposition  of  hands.  But  it  has  been 
held  that  at  this  period,  as  in  later  ages,  with  the 
laying  on  of  hands  was  associated  an  anointing  of 
the  neophytes.  In  support  of  this  view  it  has 
been  urged  (Chase,  op.  cit.  p.  53) :  (a)  that  unction 
and  imposition  of  hands  are  '  closely  related 
symbolical  acts'  in  both  OT  and  NT  (cf.  Nu  810 
with  Ex  2841,  etc.  ;  and  Mk  65  8s3  and  Ac  288  with 
Mk  613  and  Ja  514)  j  (b)  that  anointing  is  associated 
with  confirmation  in  the  earliest  sub-Apostolic 
records  (Iren.  Beer.  I.  xxi.  3 ;  Tert. ;  Can.  Hipp. 
134-136  ;  to  the  authorities  cited  by  Chase  may  be 
added  Theophilus  of  Antioch ;  see  below,  §  6  a) ; 
(c)  that  the  supposition  adds  force  to  such  passages 
as  2  Col21'-,  1  Jn220-27. 

It  must  be  noticed,  however,  (a)  that  no  Scripture 
evidence  has  been  produced  that  unction  was  used 
along  with  the  laying  on  of  hands ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  was,  among  both  Jews  and  Gentiles, 
an  accompaniment  of  the  bath  (Swete,  The  Holy 
Spirit  in  the  NT,  1909,  p.  386,  citing  Ru  33,  Ezk 
169,  to  which  add  Sus  ") ;  (6)  that  neither  Irenseus 
(loc.  cit. )  nor  Theophilus  makes  any  reference  to  the 
laying  on  of  hands  ;  and  both  Tertullian  and  Can. 
Hipp,  connect  the  unction  not  with  it  but  with  the 
immersion  (see  below,  §§  21,  26,  cf.  §  22) ;  (c)  that, 
if  2  Co  l21'-  enumerates  in  order  the  acts  of  the 
initiatory  rites,  o-<ppayio-dfiei>os  is  naturally  regarded 
as  indicating  baptism  (see  above,  §  1),  and  the 
implication,  therefore,  is  that  the  unction  preceded 
baptism,  and  was  separated  by  it  from  confirmation. 
The  connexion  of  the  unction  with  the  gift  of  the 
Spirit  in  1  Jn  220- "  does  not  by  itself  establish  the 
contention.  It  may,  however,  in  part  account  for 
the  close  relation  which  subsisted  in  later  times 
between  the  unction  and  the  imposition  of  hands, 
leading  in  some  cases  to  the  overshadowing,  or 
even  the  superseding,  of  the  latter  by  the  former. 

On  the  whole,  the  reasonable  inference  from  the 
facts  appears  to  be  that  unction  was  a  primitive 
accompaniment  of  baptism  rather  than  of  con- 
firmation. 

4.  The  passages  of  the  NT  examined  in  §  2  point 
to  confirmation  by  laying  on  of  hands  after  baptism. 
Nevertheless,  it  must  be  remarked  that  there  is  no 
indication  that  any.  feeling  of  incongruity  was 
occasioned  by  the  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
upon  Cornelius  and  his  friends  before  they  were 
baptized  (Ac  1044'48),  and  it  is  recorded  that  Ananias 
laid  hands  on  Saul  that  he  might  be  '  filled  with 
the  Holy  Ghost,'  and  afterwards  baptized  him 
(Ac  9").  These  facts  suggest  the  possibility  that 
confirmation  may  regularly  have  preceded  baptism 
in  some  regions,  concerning  whose  customs  in  this 


matter  the  NT  supplies  no  information.  It  will 
be  found  that  this  suggestion  has  some  bearing 
upon  peculiarities  of  the  early  Syrian  rite  of 
initiation  (§  7). 

5.  References  to  confirmation  in  the  sub- 
Apostolic  period. — It  was  not  to  be  expected  that 
the  scanty  remains  of  the  earliest  extra-canonical 
Christian  literature  would  supply  many  references 
to  confirmation.  In  the  Didache  and  Justin 
Martyr's  1st  Apology,  both  of  which  contain 
accounts  of  the  baptismal  rite,  explicit  mention  of 
it  might,  indeed,  have  been  looked  for.  The 
absence  of  such  mention  in  the  former  may,  how- 
ever, be  accounted  for  by  supposing  that  its  ad- 
ministration belonged  to  apostles  and  prophets,  for 
whose  guidance  the  Didache  was  not  intended.  In 
Justin,  on  the  other  hand,  but  few  details  of  the 
baptismal  rite  are  given  (1  Apol.  61),  and  we  are 
told  (ch.  65)  that,  after  the  washing,  the  neophyte 
was  brought  into  the  assembly,  where  prayer  was 
made  for  him  and  others,  followed  by  the  kiss  of 
peace  and  the  Eucharist.  That  this  is  a  vague 
account  of  the  confirmation  is  rendered  probable 
by  its  resemblance  in  general  outline  to  Can.  Hipp. 
135  ff.  (see  below,  §§  26,  28).  Irenseus  seems  to 
imply  that  a  laying  on  of  hands  followed  the 
immersion,  both  being  included  in  the  rite  of 
baptism.  Thus  in  Hasr.  III.  xvii.  1,  2  he  seems  to 
distinguish  the  grace  of  baptism  from  the  gift  of 
the  Spirit ;  and  in  Dem.  3  he  describes  the  former 
as  forgiveness  of  sins  and  regeneration,  while  in 
Dem.  41  f.  he  speaks  of  the  Apostles  as  baptizing 
their  converts  and  giving  them  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
connects  this  with  the  present  life  of  the  Churcn, 
by  describing  believers  as  the  habitation  of  the 
Spirit  given  in  baptism  (cf.  Hcer.  IV.  xxxviii.  1,  2). 

6.  The  ancient  Syrian  rite. — About  the  cere- 
monies of  baptism  used  in  Syria  in  earlier  centuries 
there  is  a  considerable  amount  of  evidence,  which 
must  be  set  out  as  briefly  as  possible. 

(a)  From  Theophilus,  Bishop  of  Antioch  (c.  180),  we  learn 
(ad  Autol.  i.  12,  ii.  16)  that  anointing  with  the  '  oil  of  God '  was, 
when  he  wrote,  an  important  feature  of  the  initiator}'  rite  ;  and 
his  statement  that  the  name  '  Christian '  was  derived  from  it 
implies  (see  Ac  ll26)  that  he  believed  it  to  date  from  the 
Apostolic  age.  According  to  him,  the  immersion  conveyed 
re-birth  and  remission  of  sins. 

(b)  Clementine  Recognitions,  iii.  67  (Gersdorf ,  p.  110  ;  Lagarde, 
p.  119)  (c.  200  [*?]).  A  description  of  baptism  is  put  into  the  mouth 
of  St.  Peter.  It  includes  anointing  with  oil  sanctified  by  prayer, 
immersion  in  the  threefold  Name,  and  Holy  Communion. 

(c)  Didascalia,  m.  xii.  2f.  (Funk,  p.  208)  (c.  230).  When 
speaking  of  the  duties  of  deaconesseB  at  the  baptism  of  women, 
the  writer  mentions  anointing  by  the  bishop  with  the  oil  of 
unction  on  the  head  '  at  the  laying  on  of  hands.'  An  anointing 
of  the  rest  of  the  body  by  deaconesses  or  other  women  follows, 
and  then  the  baptism  by  the  bishop  or  by  deacons  or  presbyters, 
at  his  command.  Funk  accounts  for  the  absence  of  reference 
to  a  post-baptismal  unction  by  supposing  that  the  deaconesses 
had  no  share  in  it ;  but  it  must  not  be  assumed  that  there  was 
any  unction  after  the  baptism. 

(d)  Syr.  Acts  of  Judas  Thomas,  in  Wright,  Apoc.  Ac.  of  Ap. 
(vol.  ii.  Eng.  tr.),  1871  (3rd  cent.).  This  work  contains  five 
detailed  accounts  of  baptisms  (pp.  165,  188,  257,  267,  289),  which, 
combined,  give  the  following  results  :  After  the  blessing  of  the 
oil,  the  candidates  are  anointed  with  the  seal  on  the  head,  the 
men  first.  Their  bodies  are  then  anointed,  in  the  case  of  the 
men  by  Judas,  in  the  case  of  the  women  by  a  woman.  They 
are  subsequently  baptized  and  communicated.  There  is  no 
intimation  of  a  consecration  of  the  water,  and  apparently  no 
recognition  of  a  distinction  between  the  grace  conveyed  by  the 
anointing  and  by  the  immersion. 

(e)  Aphraates  (c.  345).  In  one  of  his  few  allusions  to  the 
baptismal  rite  this  writer  mentions  the  unction  before  the 
baptism  (Dem.  xii.  13),  though  he  does  not  actually  state  that 
the  former  preceded  the  latter  in  the  rite.  He  does  not, 
apparently,  mention  the  gift  of  the  Spirit,  but  he  connects  both 
regeneration  and  the  putting  on  of  spiritual  armour  with  '  the 
water'  (Dem.  vi.  1,  xiv.  16). 

(/)  Ephraim,  Epiphany  Hymns  (Eng.  tr.  by  Gwynn  in  Nicene 
and  Post-Nicene  Fathers,  vol.  xiii.)  (c.  350).  From  many 
allusions  we  gather  that  the  baptismal  rite  included  the  follow- 
ing elements  in  the  order  in  which  they  are  here  mentioned : 
(1)  anointing  with  *  the  seal '  (iii.  1,  2,  v.  8) ;  (2)  the  baptism 
(xi.  8,  xiv.  41  f.  [for  the  order  of  these  two,  see  iii.  1,  17,  iv.  1, 
vi.  9,  20,  viii.  22]) ;  (3)  vesting  of  the  neophytes  in  white  (vi.  15, 
18,  xiii.  1,  5,  cf.  iv.  8) ;  (4)  crowning  (xiii.  5) ;  and  (5)  communion 
(vii.  23,  viii.  22,  cf.  iii.  17,  xiii.  17).  From  Sermo  Exeg.  in  Ps.  cxl.  3 
(Opp.  Syr.,  Borne,  1787-43,  ii.  332)  it  appears  that  the  anointing 


CONFIRMATION 


•with  the  seal  of  the  Holy  Spirit'  on  the  head  was  followed  by 
unction  of  the  members  of  the  body.  In  the  commentary  on 
Jl  224  (t&.  262)  mention  is  made  of  the  oil  and  fragrant  tivpov 
with  which  the  '  midhe '  are  sealed  and  put  on  the  armour  of  the 
Holy  Spirit.  [In  this  passage  '  midhe '  may  mean  '  baptizandi,'  in 
accordance  with  the  order  implied  in  the  Epiphany  Hymns 
(Bee  the  passage  quoted  in  Diettrich,  p.  63,  n.  15).]  The  priest 
is  the  minister  both  of  the  unction  and  of  the  baptism  (Epiph. 
Hymns,  iv.  4,  v.  8f.). 

(g)  History  of  John  the  son  of  Zebedee  (4th  cent.  [?]),  In  Wright, 
op.  tit.  Two  baptisms  are  described  in  detail  (pp.  38,  B3).  The 
'  fine  scented '  oil  was  first  consecrated,  and  then  the  water,  fire 
appearing  over  the  former  after  consecration.  Afterwards  the 
candidates  were  signed  on  the  forehead,  and  their  bodies 
anointed.  Then  followed  the  baptism,  the  vesting  in  white, 
the  giving  of  the  Iobs  of  peace  to  the  neophytes,  and  the 
communion.  The  immersion  was  '  for  the  forgiveness  of  debts 
and  Lhe  pardon  of  sins,'  while  the  appearance  of  fire  on  the  oil 
may  indicate  that  the  unction  conveyed  the  gift  of  the  Spirit. 

(n)  Apostolic  Constitutions  (c.  380).  The  Ordo  Baptismi  agrees 
closely  with  that  of  the  contemporary  Church  of  Jerus.  (below, 
§  18).  But  that  the  compiler,  in  introducing  a  second,  post- 
baptismal,  unction,  was  consciously  innovating  upon  Syrian 
custom,  is  clear.  (1)  Upon  it  alone  of  the  component  parts  of 
the  rite  does  he  comment,  and  his  remark  upon  it  is  polemical 
in  tone  (vil.  44)  :  ravra  icai  to.  tovtois  aicoKovSa  fayirw  ckckttov 
yap  7j  Svva.fj.ts  ttjs  xeLPo9e<rCas  «rrte  avrq.  iav  yap  /itj  et?  eKatrrov 
rovriav  eTTiKAijtrts  yev/jrat  -napa.  tou  eutrejSovs  iepe'tu?  TOiavnj  Tiff  «iff 
vSttip  (jl6vov  icarajSatVet  6  /9a7m£o/jtepo?  ws  ot  lovfioioi  k.t.A.  (2) 
He  connects  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  with  unction  before  baptism, 
while  the  post-baptismal  unction  is  merely  '  the  seal  of  the  cove- 
nants '  or  '  the  confirmation  of  the  confession '  (iii.  16  f.,  vii.  22). 

(i)  St.  Chrysostom  (c.  390),  in  discourses  delivered  at  Antioch, 
makes  it  plain  that  he  regarded  the  bestowal  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
as  mediated  by  unction  (in  1  Tim.  ii.  2),  and  as  closely  connected 
with  baptism,  which  was  followed  by  Holy  Communion  (in  Mt. 
xii.  6,  in  1  Co.  xxx.  2 ;  in  the  latter  passage  Mason  [Relation 
of  Confirmation  to  Baptism2,  p.  365]  mistranslates  airo  tou 
£aTrTtVju.aTos  'directly  after  baptism').  Preaching  at  Constan- 
tinople, he  implies  that  there  confirmation  followed  baptism ; 
but,  by  bis  remark  that  it  was  not  wonderful  that  Cornelius 
received  the  Spirit  before  baptism,  since  '  this  takes  place  also 
in  our  own  day '  («oi  &<f>'  TjfjJav  tovto  yeyovev),  he  hints  that  else- 
where it  preceded  it  (in  Ac.  xxiv.  2).  He  distinguished  the 
'  Spirit  of  remission,*  which  the  Samaritans  received  at  their 
baptism,  from  the  'Spirit  of  signs'  subsequently  given,  and 
probably  held  that  the  former  was  the  gift  bestowed  in  later 
fames  by  the  anointing  (in  Ac.  xviii.  2  f.  cf.  xl.  1  f.). 

0)  Life  ofRabbula,  in  Overbeck,  S.  Epkr.  Syri  sel.  opp.,  p.  164 
(c.  450).  On  his  arrival  at  the  river  Jordan,  Rabbula  *  recited 
the  Belief  before  '  the  priests,  who  then  '  anointed  and  baptized 
him  ;  and  immediately  after  he  was  come  up  from  the  water '  a 
cloth  was  wrapped  about  his  body  '  after  the  custom  of  the 
spiritual  kindred  of  Christ.'  The  latter  ceremony  no  doubt 
corresponded  to  the  vesting  of  the  neophytes  in  white. 

(k)  Theodoret,  in  Cant.  i.  2  (c.  460).  Those  who  are  being 
initiated  are  said,  after  renunciation  and  profession  of  allegiance 
(and  therefore  before  baptism),  to  receive  '  as  it  were  a  certain 
royal  seal,  the  unction  of  the  spiritual  ointment,  receiving 
thereby,  as  in  a  figure,  the  invisible  grace  of  the  all-holy  Spirit.' 
To  argue  (Mason,  op.  tit.  p.  374),  against  the  natural  force  of 
the  words,  that  the  unction  followed  baptism,  because  it  was 
made  with  ointment  (fivpov)  and  not  with  oil,  is  to  assume  that 
the  Syrian  usage  of  this  period  agreed  with  that  of  other  places 
and  other  times.  There  is  independent  evidence  that  in  Syria 
scented  oil  or  ointment  was  used  for  the  preliminary  unction 
(above,  /,  g).  In  fact,  in  Syria  to  a  comparatively  late  date, 
and  in  early  writers  elsewhere,  there  seems  to  have  been  no 
sharp  distinction  between  fivpov  and  oil  (see  below,  §  io,  and 
Hippol.  in  Dan.  i.  16).  Elsewhere,  as  here,  Theodoret  seems  to 
assume  that  normally  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit  conveyed  by 
the  laying  on  of  hands  preceded  baptism  (in  Heb.  vi.  Iff.,  cf. 
Qu.  in  Nu.  47). 

(Z)  Narsai,  Homilies,  21,  22  (Nestorian,  end  of  5th  cent.). 
According  to  these  homilies,  after  the  consecration  of  the  oil 
the  candidate  was  signed  with  it,  first  on  the  forehead  and  then 
over  the  whole  body.  After  this— the  water  having  been 
consecrated— he  was  immersed,  and,  on  ascending  from  the 
font,  was  given  the  kiss  of  peace,  clothed,  and  communicated. 
By  the  oil  the  Spirit  was  imparted  (Connolly,  in  TS  viii.  40,  43, 
46,  50-52). 

(m)  Baptism  of  Constantine,  in  Overbeck,  op.  tit.  p.  355  (c. 
500  [?]).  After  the  blessing  of  the  font,  Constantine  is  said  to 
have  been  anointed  with  oil,  baptized,  and  communicated. 

(n)  Severus,  Patriarch  of  Antioch  (Monophysite,  512-519), 
habitually  speaks  of  anointing  with  chrism  as  following  and 
completing  baptism.  Since  he  quotes  the  Testamentum 
pomini  as  authoritative  on  the  subject  of  baptism,  it  may  be 
inferred  that  the  rite,  as  he  practised  it,  resembled  that  which 
is  described  in  that  work.  See  especially  Epp.  ix.  1,  3  (ed. 
E.  W.  Brooks). 

(o)  The  catholicos  Isd'yahh  I.  (Nestorian,  580-596).  In  his 
Qucestiones  (Diettrich,  Die  nestor.  Taufiiturgie,  p.  94  ff.) 
directions  are  given  for  the  baptism  of  adults  by  a  priest,  and 
for  the  baptism  of  a  sick  person  by  a  deacon.  In  each  case  a 
signing  with  oil  (of  men  on  the  breast,  of  women  on  the  fore- 
head) is  followed  by  the  baptism.  The  only  acts  mentioned 
subsequent  to  baptism  are  the  clothing  of  the  women  by  the 
deaconesses  and  their  crowning  by  the  priest,  and  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  Eucharist,  if  it  is  customary,  by  the  deacon 
to  the  person  baptized  by  him. 


7.  From  this  evidence  some  important  inferences 
may  be  drawn.     It  would  seem  that  throughout 

Syria  up  to  the  5th  cent.,  and  among  the  Nestorians 
to  the  end  of  the  6th  cent.,  the  initiatory  rite 
included  three  principal  acts — unction,  baptism, 
and  communion  of  the  baptized.  The  unction 
consisted  of  two  parts — the  signing  of  the  head 
(3rd  and  4th  cents.),  forehead  (4th  and  5th  cents., 
and  later  in  the  case  of  women),  or  breast  (6th 
cent. ),  and  the  anointing  of  the  body.  The  gift  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  is  usually  associated  with  the 
unction  (see  above,  §  6  f,  g,  h,  i,  k,  I,  and  cf.  c, 
where  the  unction  is  ■  at  the  laying  on  of  hands ') ; 
and  in  this  connexion  it  should  be  noticed  that  the 
evidence  for  the  consecration  of  the  oil  is  earlier 
than  for  the  consecration  of  the  font  (see  b,  d). 
There  is  no  trace,  apart  from  the  Apostolic  Con- 
stitutions, of  any  important  act  following  the 
immersion  except  the  communion  of  the  baptized. 
Thus,  according  to  the  earliest  known  custom  of 
the  Syrian  Christians,  confirmation  preceded 
baptism.  It  is  not  difficult  to  believe  that  this 
usage  was  simply  a  development  of  local  primitive 
practice.  In  places  where  the  laying  on  of  hands 
for  the  imparting  of  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  took 
place  before  baptism  (above,  §  4),  if  the  baptismal 
unction  also  preceded  the  immersion  (see  §  3),  the 
laying  on  of  hands  and  the  unction  would  in  time 
come  to  be  closely  associated.  Thus  the  confir- 
mation would  become  the  unction  ■  at  the  laying 
on  of  hands1  {§  6  c).  Finally,  in  accordance  with 
a  tendency  of  which  there  are  many  examples,  the 
unction  would  supersede  the  laying  on  of  hands, 
except  so  far  as  the  signing  of  the  person  with  oil 
could  be  so  described  (cf.  §  6  Jc), 

In  the  early  part  of  the  3rd  cent.  (§  6  c)  con- 
firmation was  reserved  to  the  bishop,  but,  accord- 
ing to  all  later  authorities,  the  entire  rite  is 
administered  by  one  person — bishop  or  priest — 
assisted  by  a  deacon  or  deaconess.  It  will  be 
observed  that  there  is  early  evidence  for  three 
minor  ceremonies  between  the  immersion  and  the 
baptismal  Eucharist — the  kiss  of  peace  (§  6  g,  l)> 
vesting  in  white  (§  6  f,  g,  j,  I,  0),  and  crowning 
(§  6/,  0). 

8.  Modern  Nestorian  rite. — The  Syrian  ritual 
was  re-cast  shortly  after  the  middle  of  the  7th 
cent,  by  the  catholicos  Is6'yahb  iil  (652-661), 
and  the  office  of  baptism  drawn  up  by  him  is  the 
basis  of  the  rite  as  now  practised  by  the  East 
Syrians.  He  allowed  the  pre-baptismal  anointing 
to  remain ;  indeed,  he  seems  to  have  restored  the 
ancient  custom  of  an  unction  (that  is,  probably, 
a  signing  with  oil)  on  the  head,  followed  by  an 
anointing  of  the  body.  The  result  of  this  change 
has  been  much  confusion,  through  the  persistence 
of  6th  cent,  customs,  in  the  existing  MSS.  But  in 
one  point  all  agree.  In  the  formula  pronounced 
at  this  unction  there  is  no  reference  to  the  gift  of 
the  Spirit.  No  special  grace  seems  to  be  connected 
with  it,  and  in  a  rubric  it  is  described  as  a  sym- 
bolic act  indicating  that  '  the  acknowledgment 
of  the  Trinity  is  imprinted  on  the  heart'  of  the 
person  about  to  be  baptized.  It  no  longer 
corresponds  to  confirmation. 

The  distinguishing  feature  of  IsS'yahb's  ritual 
is,  in  fact,  confirmation  after  baptism.  It  con- 
sists of  two  main  acts — the  imposition  of  the 
hand  upon  the  head  of  the  baptized  with  an  ap- 
propriate prayer,  and  the  signing  of  the  forehead 
with  oil  (not  ointment),  accompanied  by  a  formula. 
Some  of  the  MSS  omit  mention  of  the  use  of  oil 
in  this  signing,  but  there  is  good  evidence  that 
it  was  ordered  by  Iso'yahb,  and  it  is  apparently 
still  customary  (A.  J.  Maclean,  Recent  Discoveries 
illustrating  early  Christian  Life  and  Worship, 
1904,  p.  68).  In  the  present  Nestorian  rite,  as 
everywhere  in  the  East,  the  priest  is  the  minister 


CONFIRMATION 


of  confirmation.  But  it  is  characterized  by  several 
unusual  features.  The  priest  (not  the  bishop) 
consecrates  the  oil  at  each  performance  of  the 
rite,  the  laying  on  of  the  hand  is  separated  from 
the  signing,  and  there  is  no  use  of  ointment,  as 
distinct  from  olive  oil,  at  any  part  of  the  rite. 

That  post-baptismal  confirmation  was  actually 
introduced  by  Isd'yahb  III.  follows  almost  cer- 
tainly from  the  evidence  given  in  §  6,  for  there 
seems  to  have  been  no  catholicos  between  Isd'yahb 
I.  and  Isd'yahb  III.  who  was  a  liturgical  reformer. 
The  supposition  is  confirmed  by  the  fact  that 
Isd'yahb  III.  was  a  traveller,  who  must  have  had 
some  knowledge  of  non-Syrian  rites  (Connolly, 
op.  cit.  p.  xlix),  and  by  the  number  and  magni- 
tude of  the  variations  of  existing  rituals  from  each 
other,  and  from  the  Ordo  drawn  up  by  him — a 
natural  consequence  of  so  startling  an  innova- 
tion. 

One  or  two  of  these  may  be  mentioned.  Isd'yahb  seems  to 
have  given  no  direction  about  the  ceremony  of  crowning. 
Hence  in  some  MSS  it  is  omitted.  In  one  it  is  described  as  a 
custom  in  some  places.  In  another  it  appears  in  its  original 
position  after  the  vesting,  and  therefore  before  confirmation 
(Diettrich,  op.  cit.  p.  87).  Its  present  place  is  after  the  final 
signing  (Maclean-Browne,  The  Catholicos  of  the  East,  1892,  p. 
272).  Again,  Isd'yahb  I.  ordered  that  the  water  should  not  be 
let  out  of  the  font  till  after  the  mysteries — i.e.  apparently  the 
Eucharist — had  been  administered  (Diettrich,  op.  cit.  p.  94). 
Isd'yahb  ill.,  on  the  contrary,  ordered  that  it  should  be  let  out 
before  the  confirmation  (ib.  p.  92).  Nevertheless  the  older 
usage  persisted,  and  is  still  followed  (ib.  pp.  50  f.,  82, 101  f.). 

The  post-baptismal  Eucharist  was  retained  by 
Isd'yahb  III.,  and  apparently  still  remained  in  the 
time  of  Elias  III.  (1176-1190;  see  Diettrich,  op. 
cit.  p.  101) ;  but  it  has  long  fallen  into  desuetude 
(ib.  p.  91  f.). 

o.  Rites  of  the  Syrian  Monophysites. — We 
have  seen  (§  6  n)  that  post-baptismal  confirmation 
with  chrism  is  implied  in  the  letters  of  Severus  of 
Antioch.  It  is,  in  fact,  probable  that  its  intro- 
duction into  Syria  was  due  to  him.  Tradition 
ascribes  to  Severus  a  Gr.  Ordo  Baptismi  which 
was  translated  into  Syr.  by  James  of  Edessa  in 
the  latter  part  of  the  7th  cent.,  and  received  the 
approbation  of  Gregory  Barhebrseus  six  hundred 
years  later  (Denzinger,  Ritus  orient,  i.  266,  279, 
280).  Four  of  the  existing  rituals,  of  which  two 
bear  the  name  of  Severus  and  one  that  of  James, 
while  the  fourth  is  anonymous  (ib.  p.  267),  re- 
semble one  another  closely,  and  are  apparently  all 
derived  from  the  Syr.  Ordo  of  James  of  Edessa, 
and  thus  ultimately  from  the  Gr.  of  Severus.  The 
anonymous  ritual  probably  represents  a  recension 
subsequent  to  that  of  Barhebraeus.  There  is  also 
a  short  office  for  the  baptism  of  the  dying  (ib.  p. 
318),  attributed  to  Severus'  contemporary  Phil- 
oxenus,  Bishop  of  Mabug  or  Hierapolis  (c.  485- 
519).  All  these  Orders  contain  a  post-baptismal 
signing  or  unction.  In  two  respects  they  stand 
apart  both  from  ancient  Syrian  and  from  modern 
Nestorian  usage  :  they  have  no  form  for  the  bless- 
ing of  the  oil,  which  is  consecrated,  not  by  the 
priest  at  the  baptism,  but  by  the  bishop  (ib.  p. 
361)  ;  and  at  the  final  unction  unguent,  likewise 
consecrated  by  the  bishop,  is  used  instead  of  oil. 

10.  On  the  other  hand,  among  the  liturgical 
reforms  attributed  to  Peter  the  Fuller,  Patriarch 
of  Antioch  (471-488),  by  Theodorus  Lector 
(Valesius,  Hist.,  ed.  Reading,  1720,  iii.  582),  was 
the  consecration  of  the  nipov  in  the  church  before 
the  whole  people.  This  might  seem  to  give  colour 
to  the  supposition  that  post-baptismal  confirma- 
tion was  introduced  among  the  Monophysites  by 
him.  But  Peter,  Bishop  of  Edessa  (498),  appears 
from  the  Chronicle  of  Joshua  the  Stylite  (32, 
ed.  Wright,  p.  23),  written  during  his  episcopate, 
to  have  adopted  the  principal  reforms  of  the 
Fuller  about  A.D.  500  :  among  other  things,  '  he 
[prayed]  over  the  oil  of  unction  on  the  Thursday 
(before  Easter)  before   the  whole  people.'     From 


this  passage  it  would  seem  that  Theodorus  quoted 
the  actual  words  of  the  Fuller,  and  that  the  latter 
used  ixipov  as  equivalent  to  oil  (cf.  §  6  k).  It  may 
be  inferred  that  what  the  Fuller  did  was  to  reserve 
the  consecration  of  the  oil  of  unction  to  the  bishop, 
and  that  post-baptismal  chrismation  had  not  come 
into  use  at  Antioch  in  488,  or  at  Edessa  by  the 
end  of  the  century. 

11.  The  post-baptismal  confirmation  consisted 
of  a  prayer  followed  by  a  threefold  signing  of  the 
baptized  with  chrism  on  the  forehead  and  other 
parts  of  the  body,  with  the  formula,  '  N.  is  signed 
with  the  holy  chrism,  the  sweetness  of  the  odour 
of  Christ,  the  seal  of  the  true  faith,  the  comple- 
ment of  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  the  Name,' 
etc.,  followed  by  an  anointing  of  the  rest  of  the 
body,  the  vesting  in  white,  and  prayers,  one  of 
which  contained  a  petition  for  the  sending  fortli 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  upon  the  neophytes. 

That  this  form  of  confirmation  is  a  later  addi- 
tion is  perhaps  already  sufficiently  clear.  But 
this  becomes  still  more  evident  when  we  consider 
the  portion  of  the  office  which  immediately  pre- 
cedes the  immersion.  Here  the  Monophysite 
rituals  seem  to  follow  ancient  usage  more  closely 
than  the  Nestorian.  Before  baptism  the  candi- 
dates are  signed  on  the  forehead  with  oil,  and 
their  bodies  are  anointed.  The  connexion  between 
these  two  acts  is  obscured  in  all  the  MSS  by  the 
interpolation  between  them  of  the  consecration  of 
the  water.  They  are  accompanied  by  prayers 
which  distinctly  associate  with  them  the  gift  of 
the  Spirit. 

The  first  prayer  has  the  petition:  'Vouchsafe  to  send  upon 
them  thy  Holy  Spirit.'  The  second  begins :  '  Holy  Father, 
who  by  the  hands  of  thy  holy  Apostles  didst  give  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  those  who  had  been  baptized,  send  now  also,  using 
the  shadow  of  my  hands,  thy  Holy  Spirit  on  those  who  are 
about  to  be  baptized  .  .  .  that  they  may  be  worthy  of  thy 
holy  anointing.'  This  is  evidence  that  a  laying  on  of  hands 
once  preceded  this  unction,  though  no  mention  is  made  of  it  in 
the  extant  rituals  (cf.  §  6  c,  /:)-  The  third  runs  :  '  Thou  who 
didst  send  upon  thy  only-begotten  Son  .  .  .  thy  Holy  Spirit .  .  . 
and  didst  sanctify  the  waters  of  Jordan,  may  it  please  thee 
that  the  same  thy  Holy  Spirit  may  dwell  upon  these  thy 
servants  .  .  .  and  do  thou  perfect  them  .  .  .  purifying  them 
by  thy  holy  laver,'  etc.  This  extract  seems  to  indicate  (1)  that 
the  consecration  of  the  font  originally  followed  the  anointing, 
and  (2)  that  the  indwelling  of  the  Spirit  preceded  the  purifica- 
tion of  the  laver. 

Thus  the  Monophysite  rite  is  strangely  anomal- 
ous. It  has  two  distinct  anointings,  one  before 
and  the  other  after  baptism,  by  both  of  which  it 
is  implied  that  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  medi- 
ated. The  former  was  at  one  time  accompanied 
by  an  imposition  of  hands,  and  the  references  to 
the  gift  of  the  Spirit  in  immediate  connexion  with 
it  are  still  much  more  precise  and  emphatic  than 
in  connexion  with  the  latter,  which  is  now 
regarded  as  the  confirmation. 

12.  Of  the  attendant  ceremonies,  the  vesting, 
the  crowning,  and  communion  follow  the  chris- 
mation.    All  are  omitted  in  the  anonymous  ritual. 

It  has  not  been  thought  necessary  to  take  account  here  of 
two  rituals  used  by  the  MonophyBites,  bearing  the  name  of 
St.  Basil,  since  they  are  not  of  Syrian  origin.  One  is  a  mere 
translation  of  the  Gr.  Ordo,  the  other  incorporates  some  Syrian 
elements  (Denzinger,  op.  cit.  p.  318). 

13.  Maronite  rite. — It  is  probable  that  the  two 
closely  similar  early  Maronite  baptismal  rituals 
(Denzinger,  op.  cit.  pp.  334,  351)  are  derived  from 
an  Order  drawn  up  by  James  of  Serug  (t  521), 
whose  name  appears  at  the  head  of  one  of  them. 
But  that  they  have  been  subjected  to  considerable 
revision  is  evident  ;  e.g.  the  baptismal  formula  is 
not  in  the  third  person,  as  in  all  other  Eastern 
Orders,  but  in  the  first,  as  in  the  Latin  rite.  This 
assimilation  to  Western  standards  was  carried 
much  further  about  the  year  1700,  when  the  Order 
now  in  use  was  composed  (ib.  pp.  334,  350).  Till 
that  revision,  however,  some  ancient  Syrian  char- 
acteristics were  preserved.  The  oil  was  conse- 
crated at  each  baptism,  and   at   the  consecration 


CONFIRMATION 


the  deacon  bid  the  prayers  of  the  people  that 
those  who  were  to  be  baptized  might  be  made 
'  pure  temples  for  the  habitation  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.'  Again,  the  pre-baptismal  unction  was 
divided  into  two  parts,  as  in  the  Monophysite 
rite,  by  the  consecration  of  the  water.  Before 
this  consecration  the  candidate  was  signed  with 
oil  on  the  forehead,  the  prayer  following,  '  Let 
thy  Holy  Spirit  come  and  dwell  and  rest  upon  the 
head  of  this  thy  servant,'  etc. ;  after  it  the  priest 
again  signed  him  with  oil,  this  time  on  the  head, 
and  the  deacon  anointed  his  body.  After  the  bap- 
tism the  candidate  was  signed  with  chrism,  and 
then  his  body  was  anointed  (ib.  p.  349),  or  the 
principal  members  were  signed  (ib.  p.  357),  a 
formula  being  used  similar  to  that  of  the  Mono- 
physite rite.  In  an  accompanying  prayer  (not  in 
all  MSS)  the  words  occur,  '  Grant  us  by  this  seal 
the  union  of  thy  Holy  Spirit.'  Thus  in  this  rite 
there  is  the  same  anomaly  as  in  the  Monophysite, 
proving  that  the  post-baptismal  confirmation  had 
no  place  in  the  ancient  Syrian  Order  from  which 
it  was  derived. 

14.  The  attendant  ceremonies  are  the  vesting — 
which  in  one  Order  retains  its  original  place  im- 
mediately after  baptism  {ib.  p.  357),  and  in  the 
other  {ib.  p.  349)  is  postponed  till  after  the  chris- 
mation — the  crowning,  and  the  communion. 

15.  Armenian  rites. — The  Armenian  baptismal 
ritual  is  said  to  have  been  drawn  up  by  the 
catholicos  John  Mandakuni  (c.  495).  It  was 
revised  at  the  end  of  the  9th  cent.  (Conybeare, 
Situate,  p.  xxviiff.).  The  extant  office  obviously 
differs  much  from  the  original  from  which  it  was 
derived.  After  the  consecration  of  the  '  holy  oil,' 
the  filling  and  consecration  of  the  font  takes  place, 
and  then  the  baptism.  After  this  there  is  a  prayer 
for  the  baptized,  and  an  anointing  with  the  '  holy 
oil,'  with  which  the  forehead  and  several  members 
of  the  body  are  signed,  in  each  case  with  an  ap- 
propriate formula.  In  these  formulae  no  mention 
is  made  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

The  consecration  of  the  oil  at  the  beginning 
of  the  baptismal  office  proper  seems  to  imply  an 
unction  before  immersion,  which  has  fallen  into 
desuetude  (cf.  Denzinger,  op.  cit.  pp.  35,  57).  At 
present  simple  oil  is  not  used  at  all,  and  this 
prayer  of  consecration  is  said  over  the  chrism 
which  has  been  already  consecrated  by  the  cath- 
olicos at  Etchmiadzin  {ib.  p.  34  ;  Neale,  Hist.  East. 
Ch.,  1850,  Introd.  p.  967).  The  single  petition 
for  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  prayer 
before  the  anointing  is  so  wanting  in  definiteness 
that  this  act  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  a  con- 
firmation. It  is  less  emphatic  than  the  clause  in 
the  prayer  of  consecration,  '  Send  the  grace  of  thy 
Holy  Spirit  into  this  oil,  to  the  end  that  it  shall 
be  to  him  that  is  anointed  therewith  unto  holi- 
ness of  spiritual  wisdom,'  etc.  On  the  whole,  it 
appears  that  this  rite  is  of  Syrian  origin,  and  that 
it  once  had  two  unctions,  with  each  of  which  the 
gift  of  the  Spirit  was  associated  (cf.  §§  11,  13).  As 
in  the  modern  Nestorian  rite,  the  unctions  were 
probably  performed,  not  with  chrism,  but  with 
oil  consecrated  by  the  priest  in  the  course  of  the 
office ;  though  the  use  of  chrism  consecrated  by 
the  catholicos  was  certainly  in  vogue  to  some 
extent  as  early  as  the  7th  cent.  (Denzinger,  p.  55). 

16.  After  the  unction  follow  the  vesting,  crown- 
ing, bowing  to  the  altar,  and  communion.  The 
prayer  used  at  the  bowing  to  the  altar  has  no 
special  appropriateness  to  this  ceremony ;  but  it 
contains  words  which  imply  a  laying  on  of  the 
hand  ('  Stretch  forth  thy  unseen  right  hand  and 
bless  him  '),  and  is  perhaps  misplaced. 

17.  The  baptismal  office  of  the  Paulicians  of 
Armenia  (Conybeare,  Key,  p.  96)  has  neither 
anointing  nor  imposition  of  hands,  but  after  the 


affusion  there  are  prayers  for  the  gift  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  the  baptized,  interspersed  with  lessons 
(Mt  319"17,  Ac  21"1,  Mk  I9"",  Gal  3™-™,  Lk  321'-,  Ac 
826-40  [W}tn  tne  'Western'  additions  in  vv.87- 38], 
Jn  201"-28;  but  not  Ac  8"ff-  191<r-)-  One  of  the 
prayers  seems  to  imply  that  communion  followed 
{ib.  p.  98,  cf.  p.  xlix).  The  minister  is  the  '  elect 
one.  This  rite  cannot  be  said  to  include  an  act 
of  confirmation,  but  it  was  probably  derived  from 
one  in  which  confirmation  followed  baptism. 

18.  Orthodox  Eastern  rite. — The  baptismal 
office  of  the  Orthodox  Church  (Goar,  ~&ixo\6yi.ov, 
1647,  p.  350)  closely  resembles  that  which  was 
used  at  Constantinople  in  the  8th  cent.  (Cony- 
beare, Bituale,  p.  389),  and  both  belong  to  a  group 
which  comprises  the  Ordo  Baptismi  in  Const.  Ap. 
vii.  39-45  (ef.  iii.  16  f.)  and  the  rite  as  described 
by  St.  Cyril  of  Jerusalem  {Cat.  Myst.)  and  ps.- 
Dionysius  (Hier.  Eccl.  ii.  2,  3).  The  Ordo  in 
Const.  Ap.  seems  to  represent  an  attempt  to  bring 
the  Syrian  rite  into  agreement  with  that  of  the 
Church  of  Jerusalem.  It  accordingly  preserves 
some  Syrian  features. 

Combining  the  testimony  of  all  these  docu- 
ments, we  learn  that  the  following  series  of  acts 
in  the  modern  office  has  descended  from  the  4th 
cent. :  anointing  with  exorcized  oil,  consecration 
of  the  font,  baptism,  vesting  in  white,  anointing 
with  chrism  on  the  forehead  and  other  parts  of 
the  body  (the  vesting  follows  the  chrismation  in 
St.  Cyril),  and  communion.  In  St.  Cyril  and  ps.- 
Dionysius  the  second  unction  is  associated  with 
the  gift  of  the  Spirit,  and  in  the  present  rite  it  is 
accompanied  by  the  formula,  '  The  seal  of  the  gift 
of  the  Holy  Spirit '  (cf.  the  spurious  can.  7  of 
C.  Constantinop.  I.).  It  is,  therefore,  rightly 
described  as  confirmation.  It  is  said,  however, 
that  the  chrism  is  now  administered  with  a  spoon 
(Maclean,  Sec.  Discoveries,  p.  68)  ;  thus  no  vestige 
of  the  primitive  laying  on  of  hands  remains  at 
this  point  of  the  rite.  That  c.  A.D.  325  it  was  still 
an  act  distinct  from  the  chrismation  is  shown  by 
the  evidence  of  Macarius,  Bishop  of  Jerusalem 
(Conybeare,  Key,  pp.  183,  186). 

Among  the  Orthodox  the  chrism  is  consecrated 
by  the  Patriarch  apart  from  the  administration  of 
baptism.  The  practice  of  the  4th  cent,  in  this 
matter  is  somewhat  obscurely  described  by  Ma- 
carius (ut  supra). 

It  is  possible  that  the  rite  of  the  Church  of 
Jerusalem  with  its  modern  Greek  derivative  was 
developed  from  an  ancient  Syrian  rite  in  which 
confirmation  preceded  baptism.  But  however 
that  may  be,  it  is  highly  probable  that  many  of 
the  more  modern  features  of  the  Monophysite, 
Maronite,  and  Armenian  rituals — especially  post- 
baptismal  confirmation  with  chrism — were  bor- 
rowed from  it  (cf.  Conybeare,  Key,  p.  179). 

19.  The  Egyptian  rite. — The  baptismal  rituals 
of  the  Alexandrian  Copts  (Denzinger,  op.  cit.  p. 
191)  and  the  Abyssinians  (ib.  p.  222)  vary  so 
slightly  from  each  other  that  they  may  be  treated 
as  one.  There  are  two  unctions,  but  the  first  is 
performed  outside  the  baptistery  and  is  separated 
from  the  baptism  by  a  long  interval.  Immedi- 
ately after  the  baptism  comes  the  confirmation. 
The  priest,  standing  before  the  altar,  prays  for 
the  bestowal  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on  the  baptized, 
and  signs  his  forehead  or  head  with  chrism  in  the 
threefold  Name.  Other  parts  of  the  body  are 
then  signed,  each  with  an  appropriate  formula. 
This  is  succeeded  by  the  laying  on  of  the  hand 
with  a  formula  in  which  the  words  occur,  '  Re- 
ceive the  Holy  Ghost,'  and  another  prayer  for  the 
neophyte,  including  a  petition  for  the  sending 
forth  of  the  Spirit  upon  him.  Both  oil  and  chrism 
are  consecrated  by  the  Patriarch  of  Alexandria 
{ib.  pp.  54,  248  f.). 


CONFIRMATION 


By  means  of  the  newly  recovered  Sacramentary 
of  Serapion  and  the  evidence  of  contemporary 
•writers,  it  has  been  shown  that  an  Order  of  con- 
firmation identical  with  this  in  its  main  features 
was  in  use  in  Egypt  in  the  4th  cent.  (Brightman, 
in  JThSt  i.  252  f.,  263  ff.,  268  ff.).  Indeed,  some 
of  its  elements  can  be  traced  much  further  back. 
Origen  alludes  to  the  final  unction  in  several 
places  (Horn,  in  Lev.  vi.  5,  in  Rom.  v.  8  ;  Sel.  in 
Ezk.  16).  The  laying  on  of  hands  seems  also  to 
be  implied  by  him,  and  if  so,  he  certainly  re- 
garded it  as  of  Apostolic  origin  (de  Princ.  I.  iii. 
27 ;  cf.  Clem.  Alex.  Exc.  Th.  22).  In  Egypt  alone 
has  the  laying  on  of  hands  been  preserved,  apart 
from  the  signing  with  chrism,  by  an  unbroken  tra- 
dition, as  part  of  confirmation.  In  the  4th  cent. , 
indeed,  it  preceded  instead  of  following  the  chris- 
mation  (Brightman,  loc.  cit.  p.  265)  ;  but  in  Abys- 
sinia at  present  there  is  laying  on  of  hands  with 
prayer  for  the  Holy  Spirit,  before  as  well  as  after 
the  chrismation.  In  early  times,  as  now,  the 
priest  administered  the  chrism,  but  only  as  the 
delegate  of  the  bishop  (Ambrosiaster,  Qu.  Veteris 
et  Novi  Test.,  ci.  5  ;  in  Eph.  iv.  12). 

20.  After  confirmation  follow  the  vesting,  crown- 
ing, and  communion  of  the  baptized.  In  Abys- 
sinia and,  until  comparatively  recent  times,  at 
Alexandria,  they  received  milk  and  honey  in  the 
Eucharist.  At  Alexandria  only  milk  is  now  given. 
No  early  evidence  has  been  discovered  for  the 
crowning ;  but  the  vesting  is  alluded  to  in  the 
4th  cent.,  the  baptismal  Eucharist  is  referred  to 
by  Origen  (Sel.  in  Ex.  [PG  xii.  283]),  and  ap- 
parently the  giving  of  milk  and  honey  is  mentioned 
by  the  writer  of  the  Ep.  of  Barnabas  (6)  and  by 
Clem.  Alex.  (Peed.  i.  6). 

21.  The  African  rite. — In  several  passages  (de 
Prcesc.  Hcer.  36,  40;  de  Bapt.  6ff.,  17;  de  Pes. 
Cam.  8  ;  adv.  Marc.  i.  14  ;  de  Cor.  3  ;  de  Pud.  9) 
Tertullian  alludes  to  the  ceremonies  of  the  rite  of 
initiation.  From  them  we  learn  that  immediately 
after  the  immersion  the  baptized  was  anointed,  per- 
haps over  the  whole  body  ('  perungimur,'  de  Bapt. 
7).  He  was  afterwards  signed  with  the  cross,  ap- 
parently on  the  forehead.  The  laying  on  of  the  hand 
followed,  and  finally  the  Eucharist.  At  some  point 
of  the  rite  the  neophyte  received  a  mixture  of  milk 
and  honey.  The  exact  position  of  this  ceremony  is 
doubtful ;  but  it  was  certainly  between  the  anoint- 
ing and  the  Eucharist,  and  probably  immediately 
after  the  former.  It  is  possibly  hinted  in  one  place 
that  the  baptized  was  crowned  (de  Prcesc.  40). 

The  imposition  of  the  hand  is  separated  from  the 
unction  by  the  signing,  and  probably  the  giving 
of  milk  and  honey.  Moreover,  while  the  spiritual 
effect  of  baptism  is  remission  of  sins,  of  unction 
consecration,  and  of  the  signing  protection,  the 
gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  attributed  to  the  im- 
position of  the  hand.  The  unction,  therefore,  is 
connected  with  baptism  rather  than  with  con- 
firmation (cf.  Baptism  [Early  Chr.],  vol.  ii.  p. 
387*  (/S)).  The  proper  minister  of  the  entire  rite 
is  the  bishop,  but  with  his  authority  it  may  be 
performed  by  a  presbyter  or  a  deacon.  Tertullian 
holds  that  in  case  of  necessity  a  layman  may 
baptize  (and  confirm) ;  but  it  seems  to  be  implied 
that  this  opinion  was  not  generally  accepted. 
Since  Tertullian  (de  Cor.  3)  claims  the  authority 
of  long-standing  tradition  for  several  of  the  cere- 
monies, it  is  probable'  that  he  describes  the  rite  as 
it  was  practised  in  Carthage  at  least  as  early  as 
the  middle  of  the  2nd  century. 

22.  The  letters  of  Cyprian  on  the  baptism  of 
heretics  confirm  and  supplement  the  information 
given  by  Tertullian.  According  to  him,  the 
special  gift  of  baptism  is  remission  of  sins  (Ep. 
lxix.  11,  lxx.  1,  lxxiii.  6,  lxxiv.  5)  and  regenera- 
tion (Ixxiv.  7) ;  but  the  regeneration  is  not  com- 


plete without  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  (lxxii.  1,  lxxiii. 
21),  which  is  conveyed  by  the  laying  on  of  the 
hand  (lxxii.  1,  lxxiii.  6,  lxxiv.  5).  Thus  baptism 
and  confirmation  are  distinct,  yet  closely  related 
as  parts  of  the  same  rite  (lxx.  3,  lxxiii.  9).  The 
immersion  was  immediately  followed  by  unction 
(lxx.  2),  and  it  is  implied  that  the  unction  was 
connected  rather  with  baptism  than  with  confir- 
mation. The  gift  of  the  Spirit  is  not  associated 
with  it  in  the  one  passage  in  which  it  is  men- 
tioned ;  and  in  that  passage,  arguing  against  the 
validity  of  heretical  baptism,  as  distinct  from 
confirmation,  Cyprian  makes  a  point  out  of  the 
invalidity  of  the  unction  which  accompanied  it. 
It  is  to  be  added  that  he  speaks  of  sanctification 
(sanctificatio)  as  one  of  the  benefits  conferred  by 
baptism,  in  the  narrower  sense  (e.g.  lxix.  1,  8,  11, 
lxx.  2,  lxxiii.  18  f.,  lxxiv.  5,  7),  just  as  Tertullian 
had  connected  the  same  (consecratio)  with  unction. 
The  act  by  which  the  Holy  Spirit  was  communi- 
cated was,  therefore,  the  imposition  of  the  hand. 
But  this  act  was  accompanied  by  prayer  for  the 
Holy  Spirit  and  signing  of  the  baptized  on  the 
forehead  (lxxiii.  6,  9 ;  ad  Demetnan.  22).  At 
some  time  in  the  course  of  the  rite,  probably  after 
confirmation,  the  kiss  of  peace  was  given  (lxiv.  4). 
The  bishop  confirmed,  but  apparently  he  did  not 
usually  baptize  (lxxiii.  9).  The  oil  used  in  the 
unction  was  consecrated  on  the  altar  at  the 
Eucharist,  and  therefore  not  at  the  administration 
of  baptism  (lxx.  2). 

23.  The  mode  of  administration  of  the  rite  re- 
mained much  as  it  was  in  the  2nd  cent,  till  at  least 
the  beginning  of  the  5th  ;  but  the  giving  of  milk 
and  honey  was  transferred  to  the  baptismal  Euchar- 
ist (C.  Carthag.  III.  c.  24,  longer  form). 

For  the  order,  see  St.  Augustine,  Serm.  324  ;  for  consecration 
of  oil  at  the  Eucharist,  de  Bapt.  cant.  Don.  v.  28 ;  for  conferring 
the  Holy  Spirit  by  imposition  of  hand  with  prayer,  ib.  iii.  16, 
de  Trin.  xv.  46,  Retract,  i.  12.  9,  Tract,  in  Ep.  Jo.  vi.  10 ;  for  com- 
munion, Serm.  224,  227, 228 ;  for  the  bishop  as  minister,  de  Trin. 
xv.  46,  and  for  the  presbyter  acting  in  his  stead,  Serm.  324. 

By  the  second  half  of  the  5th  cent,  the  unction 
had  become  a  more  prominent  feature,  and  was 
closely  connected  with  the  imposition  of  the  hand, 
for  which  it  was  a  preparation  (Op tat.  Milev.  iv. 
7,  vii.  4 ;  Aug.  contra  lift.  Pet.  ii.  239),  though 
it  still  always  followed  baptism  ( Avitus  Vienn.  Ep. 
24).  The  material  used  seems  to  have  been  no  longer 
simple  oil  (Optat.  loc.  cit.  ;  Aug.  de  Trin.  xv.  46, 
cont.  lift.  Pet.  ii.  104).  The  unction,  though  not 
apparently  held  to  convey  the  Spirit,  is  the  '  sacra- 
mentum  Spiritus  sancti  (Aug.  Serm.  227,  Tract, 
in  Ep.  Jo.  iii.  5,  12).  During  this  period  attempts 
were  made  to  abolish  the  consecration  of  the  chrism 
by  priests,  which  appears  to  have  been  the  older 
custom  ;  but  the  practice  still  continued  (C.  Carth. 
II.  c.  3,  III.  c.  36 ;  C.  Hipp.  c.  34 ;  Joan.  Diac.  Ep. 
ad  Senar.  8). 

24.  The  Gallican  rite. — The  rite  which  prevailed 
most  widely  in  the  West  in  early  centuries  was 
that  known  as  the  Gallican,  which  was  used  in 
North  Italy,  Gaul,  Spain,  probably  Britain,  and 
Ireland.  The  earliest  descriptions  of  it  are  found 
in  Ambrose,  de  Mysteriis,  and  another  tract  founded 
upon  it,  viz.  ps. -Ambrose,  de  Sacramentis.  These 
witness  to  the  use  of  North  Italy  c.  A.D.  400.  In 
this  rite  baptism  was  immediately  followed  by  an 
anointing  with  chrism  on  the  head  or  forehead 
(Prudent.  Psychom.  360  ;  Patr.  Ep.  3  ;  Missal.  Bob- 
Men.  ;  cf.  Stowe  Missal),  with  the  formula  'Deus 
.  .  .  qui  te  regeneravit  .  .  .  ipse  te  unget,'  etc. 
After  the  chrismation  the  feet  of  the  candidates 
were  washed  (Maximus  Taurin.  Tract,  iii. ;  Ceesarius, 
Serm.  clxviii.  3,  eclvii.  2  [PL  xxxix.  2071,  2220], 
Serm.  de  unct.  cap.  [PL  xl.  1211];  C.  Elib.  c.  48; 
and  the  Orders),  and  they  were  vested  in  white. 
They  then  received  the  signaculum  spirituale — 
apparently  a  signing  with  the  chrism  (cf.  Greg. 


CONFIRMATION 


Tur.  Hist.  Franc,  ii.  31) — which  was  accompanied 
by  a  prayer  for  the  septiform  Spirit,  no  doubt 
similar  to  that  which  occurs  in  all  later  Western 
rites,  including  the  Anglican  (Isidor.  de  Eccl.  Off. 
II.  xxvii.  3  ;  Ildefons.  de  Cogn.  Bapt.  127).  Finally, 
they  communicated  (Sac.  Gall.  ;  Sac.  Goth.  ;  Stoive 
Missal;  Zeno  Veron.  Tract,  ii.  38,  53).  Since  there 
is  early  evidence  that  confirmation  consisted  of  two 
acts — chrismation  and  '  imposition  of  the  hand '  or 
'  benediction '  (Gaul :  C.  Araus.  I.  c.  1  f.;  Gennadius 
Massil.  de  Eccl.  Dog.  52  ;  Avitus,  Ep.  24  ;  Spain  : 
Isidor.  op.  cit.  n.  xxv.  9,  xxvii.  1 ;  Ildefons.  op.  cit. 
121-125,  128  f.)— it  may  be  inferred  that  both  the 
unction  and  the  signaculum,  though  not  in  im- 
mediate sequence,  belonged  to  it.  In  some  Ordines 
the  signaculum,  or  laying  on  of  hands,  disappeared 
as  a  separate  act  (Gaul :  German.  Paris.  Ep.  2 ; 
Sac.  Gall.;  Sac.  Goth.;  North  Italy:  Maximus 
Taurin.  ut  supra  ;  Missal.  Bobbien.;  Ireland  :  Patr. 
Ep.  2f.;  Stowe  Missal),  and  with  it  the  invocation 
of  the  septiform  Spirit.  Thus  the  '  confirmation ' 
was  reduced  to  an  anointing  with  chrism,  perhaps 
including  a  signing,  without  any  direct  prayer  for 
the  Holy  Spirit.  If  this  was  the  use  of  the  Irish 
Church  in  the  12th  cent.,  the  statement  of  St. 
Bernard  (Vita  S.  Mai.  3),  that  confirmation  was 
not  practised  in  Ireland,  is  not  only  intelligible  but 
justified. 

25.  It  is  clear  that  about  the  end  of  the  4th  cent, 
baptism  and  confirmation  were  ordinarily  admini- 
stered by  the  same  person  (Ambr.  op.  cit.  ;  ps.- 
Ambr.  op.  cit. ;  Pacianus,  Serm.  de  bapt.  6,  Ep.  i.  6 ; 
Zeno  Veron.  Tract,  ii.  53).  This,  according  to 
Ambrose  and  Pacianus,  was  the  bishop ;  but  ps.- 
Ambrose  seems  to  make  the  presbyter  the  minister 
of  both  (Wordsworth,  Ministry  of  Grace,  1901,  p. 
80).  A  century  earlier  the  Synod  of  Elvira  (cc.  38, 
77)  implies  that  if  a  presbyter  baptized  he  also 
confirmed,  and  that  presbyterial  confirmation  pre- 
vailed widely  in  later  times,  in  spite  of  continual 
efforts  to  suppress  it,  there  is  abundant  evidence 
(Gaul:  C.  Araus.  I.  c.  If.;  C.  Arel.  II.  c.  26  f.; 
Gallican  Statutes  [C.  Carth.  IV.],  c.  36  ;  Leo,  Ep.  de 
priv.  Chorep.;  C.  Epaon.  c.  16;  C.  Autisiodoren.  c. 
6;  C.  Hispal.  II.  c.  7;  Sac.  Gall.;  Sac.  Goth.,  cf. 
C.  Vasen.  c.  3 ;  North  Italy :  Missal.  Bobbien.  ; 
Ireland  :  Stowe  Missal ;  Spain  :  C.  Tolet.  I.  c.  20  ; 
Mart.  Bracar.  Capitula,  52 ;  Isidor.  op.  cit.  II.  xxvii. ; 
Ildefons.  op.  cit.  128,  131  ;  cf.  Montanus,  Ep.  1 
[Mansi,  viii.  788] ;  C.  Bracar.  II.  c.  19). 

This  summary  of  the  evidence  will  suffice  to 
show  that  between  the  Gallican  and  the  Eastern 
confirmation  rites  there  are  many  points  of 
resemblance.  Gallican  usages  gave  place  to 
Roman  in  France  at  the  end  of  the  8th  century. 
They  had  a  more  prolonged  existence  in  Spain, 
Milan,  and  Ireland  (Duchesne,  Orig.  p.  97  ffi). 

26.  The  Roman  rite. — If  the  Gallican  rite  re- 
sembled those  of  the  Eastern  Church,  the  bap- 
tismal rite  of  Rome  was  akin  rather  to  that  of 
Africa.  According  to  the  Canons  of  Hippolytus 
(134  ff.),  in  the  Rom.  use  of  c.  A.D.  200,  the  priest, 
immediately  after  administering  baptism,  signed 
the  baptized  on  the  forehead,  mouth,  and  breast 
with  the  xfialia  evxapurrlas,  or  oil  of  unction,  which 
had  been  consecrated  by  the  bishop  at  an  earlier 
stage  of  the  office,  and  then  proceeded  to  anoint 
his  body.  The  baptized  was  then  vested  and 
brought  into  the  church,  where  he  was  confirmed 
by  the  bishop.  The  confirmation  consisted  of 
imposition  of  the  hand  and  a  prayer,  in  which 
there  was  a  thanksgiving  for  the  outpouring 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  a  petition  that  tlie  neo- 
phyte might  receive  the  earnest  of  the  Kingdom, 
ollowed  by  the  sign  on  the  forehead  without  oil. 


I 


That  this  represents  early  Rom.  practice  is  confirmed  by 
Hippolytus,  in  Dan.  i.  16,  where  the  oil  used  in  the  bath  is  said 
to  signify  'the  powers  (6iii/an«  [read  Svvatut??))  of  the  Holv 


Spirit  wherewith  (ak)  the  believers  are  anointed  after  the  laver, 
as  though  (o,s)  with  ointment,'  the  implication  being  that  oil 
was  not  actually  used  in  conferring  the  Holy  Spirit. 

Thus  the  unction  was  connected  with  baptism, 
not  with  the  laying  on  of  hands. 

The  imposition  of  the  hand  continued  to  be  the 
principal  act  in  confirmation  till  at  least  the  end 
of  the  4th  cent.,  when  it  was  accompanied  by  the 
prayer  for  the  septiform  Spirit  (Jerome,  cont.  Luc. 
9  ;  Siricius,  Ep.  ad  Himer.).  But  by  that  time  the 
unction  on  the  forehead  seems  to  have  come  to  be 
regarded  as  closely  associated  with  it,  and  as  belong- 
ing, like  it,  rather  to  the  bishop  than  to  the  priest. 
In  416,  Pope  Innocent  I.  permitted  an  additional 
unction,  which  must  not  be  on  the  forehead,  by 
the  priest  after  baptism.  This  is  the  first  notice 
of  the  double  chrismation,  which  soon  afterwards 
became  the  regular  practice  of  the  Roman  Church 
(Innoc.  Ep.  ad  Dec.  6,  cf.  9  ;  Joan.  Diac.  Ep.  ad 
Senar.  6,  14).  A  signing  of  the  head  with  chrism 
after  baptism,  with  a  formula  almost  identical  with 
that  of  the  Gallican  rite  (§  24),  is  enjoined  in  the 
Gelasian  Sacramentary  and  in  later  Rom.  books. 

27.  The  development  of  the  Rom.  order  of  con- 
firmation is  instructive.  In  the  Gelasian  Sacra- 
mentary (which  agrees  with  the  description  of 
the  Rom.  rite  in  the  Epistle  of  Jesse  of  Amiens, 
A.D.  812),  and  the  9th  cent.  Ordo  of  St.  Amand 
(Duchesne,  op.  cit.  p.  453) — as  in  the  much  later 
Liber  S.  Cuthberti  (C.  Wordsworth,  Pontif.  S. 
Andrea,  1885,  App.  5) — the  imposition  of  the  hand, 
with  the  prayer  for  the  septiform  Spirit,  is  pre- 
served, and  at  the  subsequent  chrismation  a  special 
formula  is  used.  In  the  Gregorian  Sacramentary 
the  laying  on  of  the  hand  gives  place  to  the  raising 
of  the  hand.  In  later  orders  the  raising  or  extend- 
ing of  the  hand  is  sometimes  accompanied  by  the 
formula  'Spiritus  sanctus  superveniat,'  etc.,  the 
prayer  for  the  septiform  Spirit  following,  and  a 
formula  more  or  less  resembling  the  Gelasian  being 
used  with  the  signing.  Of  the  latter  the  latest 
form  is  that  which  Pope  Eugenius  IV.  (Deer,  pro 
Armen. )  declared  to  be  the  '  form '  of  the  sacrament. 

28.  In  the  Canons  of  Hippolytus,  and  in  most 
later  Orders  in  which  confirmation  immediately 
follows  baptism,  the  communion  of  the  neophytes 
is  enjoined.  The  communion  commonly  followed 
baptism  when  confirmation  was  deferred,  though 
it  is  sometimes  ordered  with  the  reservation  that 
it  is  to  be  administered  only  if  the  neophytes  are 
of  suitable  age.  Two  ceremonies  anciently  followed 
confirmation  (Can.  Hipp.) — the  kissing  of  the  neo- 
phyte, with  the  words,  'The  Lord  be  with  you,'  and 
the  giving  of  milk  and  honey.  The  former  has 
disappeared  from  all  later  Orders,  but  the  memory 
of  it  is  preserved  in  the  words  '  Pax  vobiscum ' 
after  the  chrismation.  The  latter  continued  till  the 
6th  cent.  (Joan.  Diac.  op.  cit.  12).  The  bishop  has  al- 
ways been  the  minister  of  confirmation  in  the  Rom. 
Church,  though  apparently  Innocent  I.  (ut  supra) 
permitted  priests  to  confirm  in  cases  of  necessity 
if  authorized  to  do  so  by  the  bishop.  The  bishop 
has  also  always  consecrated  the  chrism  (but  see 
Joan.  Diac.  op.  cit.  8). 

29.  The  mingling  of  Roman  and  Gallican  rites. 
— In  early  centuries  the  Rom.  rite  was  used  only 
in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  the  city.  That 
it  had  not  been  adopted  in  the  Gr.  district  of 
Lucania  at  the  end  of  the  5th  cent,  is  easily  under- 
stood (Gelas.  Ep.  ix.  6,  10) ;  but  it  is  more  surprising 
that  at  the  beginning  of  the  same  cent.  Pope  Inno- 
cent I.  should  find  it  necessary  to  urge  a  bishop 
of  Umbria  to  bring  the  customs  of  his  diocese  into 
conformity  with  those  of  Rome.  From  his  letter 
to  Decentius  (416)  it  may  be  gathered  that  at 
Eugubium  (Gubbio)  the  consecration  of  the  chrism 
was  not  reserved  to  the  bishops,  and  that  presbyters 
anointed  the  baptized  with  chrism  (apparently  on 


8 


CONFIRMATION  (Roman  Catholic) 


the  forehead)  and  laid  hands  upon  them,  with  an 
invocation  of  the  Spirit.  Thus  in  Eugubium  (c.  400) 
the  baptismal  rite  was  of  the  Galilean  type  (cf. 
Leo,  Ep.  168).  Innocent  compromised  matters 
with  Decentius  by  suffering  the  chrismation  by  the 
priest  to  remain,  provided  it  was  not  on  the  forehead, 
and  provided  the  baptized  was  subsequently  con- 
firmed in  Rom.  fashion  by  the  bishop.  One  result 
of  his  letter,  which  was  widely  quoted  as  an  authori- 
tative document,  was,  no  doubt,  the  modification 
of  Gallican  usage  in  a  Homeward  direction  in  many 
places  ;  another  was  the  introduction  into  the  Rom. 
baptismal  office  of  the  post-baptismal  chrismation. 
The  Western  rite,  in  fact,  combines  the  Gallican 
and  the  earlier  Rom.  confirmation  Orders,  which 
suffices  to  explain  the  anxiety  of  Gallican  writers 
like  Rabanus  Maurus  (de  Cler.  Inst.  i.  28-30 ;  cf. 
Theodulf .  de  Ord.  Bapt.  14 ;  Jesse  of  Amiens,  Ep. 
de  bapt.  [PL  cv.  790]),  not  long  after  the  suppres- 
sion of  the  Gallican  customs,  to  distinguish  the 
spiritual  effect  of  the  two  chrismations,  assuming 
that  each  of  them  conveyed  a  gift  of  the  Spirit. 
The  phenomenon  is  not  unlike  that  which  presents 
itself  in  the  rites  of  Western  Syria  (above,  §§  II, 
13,  15).  The  consequence  of  the  interaction  of  the 
Rom.  and  Gallican  rites,  exemplified  in  this  strik- 
ing case,  is  that  the  present  Latin  confirmation 
rite  is  not  purely  Roman,  though  it  is  not  now 
possible  to  distinguish  in  all  cases  those  features 
which  were  developed  within  the  Rom.  Church 
from  others  which  may  have  been  imported  from 
without.     Cf.  the  following  article. 

30.  The  separation  of  confirmation  from  baptism. 
— For  many  centuries  in  the  West,  confirmation  has 
been  divided  from  baptism  by  a  considerable  inter- 
val. The  beginning  of  this  separation  of  the  rites 
may  be  traced  to  the  3rd  cent.,  when  the  validity 
of  heretical  confirmation  was  denied  even  by  those 
who  admitted  the  validity  of  heretical  baptism 
(but  see  E.  W.  Benson,  Cyprian,  1897,  p.  420). 
By  them  persons  baptized  in  heresy,  when  they 
joined  the  Catholic  Church,  were  admitted  by  a 
ceremony  analogous  to,  if  not  identical  with,  con- 
firmation. Later  on  we  find  cases  contemplated 
in  which  confirmation  at  the  time  of  baptism  was 
impossible,  either  because  the  minister  was  a  deacon 
or  a  layman,  or  because  the  baptizing  priest  had 
no  chrism  (C.  Elib.  cc.  38,  77 ;  C.  Araus.  I.  c.  2). 
But  the  practice  of  administering  confirmation 
apart  from  baptism  in  ordinary  cases  had  a  different 
origin.  The  Rom.  tradition  of  restricting  the 
administration  of  confirmation  to  bishops  involved 
its  postponement  in  the  case  of  all  persons  baptized 
by  a  priest  in  the  absence  of  the  bishop.  This,  of 
course,  became  more  frequent  as  the  Church  spread 
beyond  the  cities,  as  bishops  became  fewer  in  pro- 
portion to  the  number  of  Christians,  and  infant 
baptism  became  the  rule.  It  was  already  common 
at  the  end  of  the  4th  cent.  (Jerome,  loc.  cit.  ;  cf. 
Anon,  de  Ee-baptismate,  4  f . ).  But  the  separation 
of  the  rites  did  not  become  universal  in  the  West 
for  many  centuries,  and,  when  confirmation  was 
postponed,  it  was  usually  only  deferred  till  the 
offices  of  a  bishop  could  be  had.  If  it  was  not 
administered  in  infancy,  the  delay  was  due  to 
the  negligence  of  parents  or  of  the  bishops  them- 
selves. On  the  eve  of  the  Reformation,  infant 
confirmation  was  still  the  normal  practice  (see,  e.g., 
Tindale,  Answer  to  More,  1531,  ed.  Parker  Soc, 
1850,  p.  72).  At  a  much  earlier  period,  however, 
there  was  a  movement  towards  admitting  to  con- 
firmation only  those  of  more  mature  age  (Gratian, 
Deer.  III.  v.  6;  Syn.  Colonien.  1280,  c.  5),  and  in 
the  latter  part  of  the  16th  cent,  it  became  the  rule, 
both  in  the  Rom.  and  in  the  Anglican  Communion, 
that  candidates  for  confirmation  should  have  come 
to  years  of  discretion  (Eng.  Pr.  Bk. ;  Cat.  ad 
paroch.  ii.  3,  §  8  ;  cf.  CQR  xxiii.  72  ff.). 


For  information  about  modern  offices  of  confir- 
mation and  substitutes  therefor,  in  the  Reformed 
Communions,  it  must  suffice  to  refer  to  the  works 
named  at  the  close  of  the  following  list  of  authori- 
ties, and  to  art.  Baptism  (Later  Chr. ),  vol.  ii.  p.  404. 

Literature. — F.  H.  Chase,  Confirmation  in  the  Apost.  Age, 
Lond.  1909;  A.  J.  Mason,  The  Relation  of  Confirmation  to 
Baptism?,  Lond.  1893 ;  L.  Duchesne,  Orig.  du  cutte  chrttien?, 
Paris,  1898  (Eng.  tr.  Chr.  Worship,  1903) ;  H.  Denzinger,  Ritus 
Orientalium,  Wiirzburg,  1863,  vol.  i.,  and  Enchiridion  symbol, 
et  defin.la,  Freiburg,  1908;  J.  A,  Assemani,  Codex  Liturgicus 
Ecclesios  Universes,  Rome,  1749,  vols.  i.-iii. ;  E.  Martene, 
de  Ant.  Eccles.  Ritibus,  Antwerp,  1700 ;  A.  J.  Maclean,  The 
Ancient  Church  Orders,  Cambridge,  1910,  ch.  vi.;  G.  Diettrich, 
Die  nestor.  Taufliturgie,  Giessen,  1903 ;  R.  H.  Connolly,  '  The 
Liturgical  Homilies  of  Narsai'  (TS  viii.  [1909]);  F.  C.  Cony- 
beare,  Rituale  Armenorum,  Oxford,  1905,  The  Key  of  Truth, 
Oxford,  1898  ;  F.  E.  Brightman,  '  Sacramentary  of  Serapion  ' 
(JThSt  i.  [1899-1900]  88) ;  Procter-Frere,  New  Hist,  of  Rook  of 
Com.  Prayer^,  Lond.  1908,  ch.  xiv. ;  J.  Dowden,  Workmanship 
of  the  Pr.  Bk.,  Lond.  1899,  pp.  33-37,  Further  Studies  in  the 
Pr.  Bk.,  Lond.  1908,  ch.  xii. ;  J.  H.  Blunt,  Annotated  Book  of 
Com.  Prayer,  new  ed.  1903 ;  W.  Caspari,  Die  evangel.  Konfir- 
mation,  vorndmlich  in  der  lutherischen  Kirche,  Leipzig,  1890. 

H.  J.  Lawloe. 

CONFIRMATION  (Roman  Catholic).— As  a 
supplement  to  the  data  furnished  in  the  preceding 
article,  the  following  points  illustrating  the  posi- 
tion of  Confirmation  in  the  present  teaching  and 
practice  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  seem 
worthy  of  note  : — ■ 

I.  Dogmatic  tenets. — The  doctrine  according  to 
which  Confirmation  is  named  as  the  second  of 
seven  Sacraments  is  clearly  enunciated  at  least  as 
early  as  the  middle  of  the  12th  century.  In  a 
sermon  which  is  put  into  the  mouth  of  St.  Otto, 
Bishop  of  Bamberg  (t  1139),  by  his  biographer 
Herbord  (c.  1159),  the  preacher,  addressing  the 
newly  baptized  Pomeranians,  discourses  at  some 
length  of  the  seven  Sacraments.  Enumerating 
them  in  their  order,  he  says : 

'  The  second  Sacrament  is  Confirmation,  that  is,  the  anointing 
with  chrism  on  the  forehead.  This  Sacrament  is  necessary  for 
those  that  are  to  conquer,  to  wit,  that  they  be  protected  and 
armed  by  the  strengthening  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  they  will  have 
to  fight  against  all  the  temptations  and  corruptions  of  this 
present  life.  Neither  is  this  rite  to  be  deferred  until  old  age, 
as  some  suppose,  but  it  is  to  be  received  in  the  vigour  of  youth 
itself,  because  that  age  is  more  exposed  to  temptation '  (Pertz, 
MGH  xxii.  733). 

Most  of  this  doctrine,  including  the  sevenfold 
number  of  the  Sacraments,  can  be  shown  to  have 
been  taught  by  Radulfus  Ardens  fifty  years  earlier, 
in  his  as  yet  unprinted  Speculum  Universale  (see 
Grabmann,  Gesch.  der  scholast.  Methode,  i.  259), 
but  much  vagueness  still  prevailed  regarding  the 
nature  and  definition  of  a  Sacrament.  A  decretal 
of  Innocent  III.  in  1204,  included  in  the  Corpus 
Juris  Canonici (Friedberg,  Leipzig,  1876-80,  ii.  133), 
outlines  further  the  main  points  upon  which  stress 
was  laid  by  scholastic  theologians  both  before  and 
after  the  Council  of  Trent. 

'  By  the  unction,'  he  says,  '  of  the  forehead  with  chrism  (per 
frontis  chrismationem)  is  denoted  the  imposition  of  hands, 
which  is  otherwise  called  Confirmation,  because  by  this  means 
the  Holy  Spirit  is  bestowed  for  increase  and  strength.  Hence, 
while  a  simple  priest  (sacerdos  vel  presbyter}  may  perform  other 
unctions,  this  ought  not  to  be  administered  by  any  one  but  a 
high  priest,  that  is  to  say  a  bishop,  seeing  it  is  recorded  of  the 
Apostles  alone,  whose  vicars  the  bishops  are,  that  they  con- 
ferred the  Holy  Spirit  by  the  imposition  of  hands'  (cf.  Ac 
8««f-). 

During  the  Council  of  Florence  (1438-1445),  a 
bull  was  issued  by  Eugenius  IV.,  known  as  the 
Decretum  pro  Armenis.  This,  taken  as  a  whole, 
was  not  so  much  a  dogmatic  decree,  defining  points 
of  faith,  as  an  instruction  to  secure  uniformity  of 
practice.  A  portion  of  it,  which  consists  of  a 
compendious  treatise  on  the  Sacraments,  is  taken 
almost  word  for  word  from  an  opusculum  of  St. 
Thomas  Aquinas,  De  fidei  articulis  et  septem 
sacramentis.  The  '  matter '  of  the  Sacrament  is 
declared  to  be  chrism,  i.e.  oil  mixed  with  balsam, 
and  the  '  form '  to  be  the  words,  '  I  sign  thee  with 
the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  I  confirm  thee  with  the 
chrism  of  salvation  in  the  name  of  the  Father  and 


CONFIRMATION  (Roman  Catholic; 


of  the  Son  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost,'  spoken  both 
then  and  now  by  the  bishop  in  administering  the 
unction.  In  view,  however,  of  the  imperfectly 
dogmatic  nature  of  the  Decretum  pro  Armenis, 
this  decision  is  not  held  to  be  an  infallible  pro- 
nouncement. On  the  contrary,  the  more  commonly 
accepted  view  regards  the  act  of  unction  as  itself 
constituting  an  imposition  of  hands,  so  that  the 
'  matter '  comprises  both  the  unction  with  chrism 
and  the  laying  on  of  hands.1 

The  most  prevalent  theory,  then,  concerning  Con- 
firmation regards  the  '  outward  sign '  of  the  Sacra- 
ment as  consisting  in  the  act  of  the  bishop,  who 
makes  the  sign  of  the  cross  with  chrism  upon  the 
candidate's  forehead,  whilst  he  pronounces  the 
words  already  quoted.  The  Council  of  Trent,  in 
its  systematic  review  of  Sacramental  doctrine,  is 
very  guarded  in  its  affirmations  concerning  Con- 
firmation. It  contents  itself  with  declaring  that 
it  is  '  truly  and  properly  a  sacrament,'  and  '  one  of 
the  seven,  all  of  which  were  instituted  by  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord.'  It  denies  that  '  it  was  in  olden 
days  nothing  else  but  a  sort  of  catechism  in  which 
those  who  were  entering  upon  youth  gave  an 
account  of  their  faith  in  the  presence  of  the  Church.' 
It  condemns  those  (Reformers)  who  had  declared 
that  to  attribute  any  virtue  to  the  chrism  used 
in  Confirmation  was  an  outrage  to  the  Holy  Ghost. 
It  also  rejected  the  view  that  every  simple  priest 
could  administer  the  Sacrament ;  but,  by  pronounc- 
ing that  a  bishop  was  '  the  ordinary  minister,'  it 
tolerated  the  practice  by  which  simple  priests  in 
special  cases  receive  from  the  Holy  See  faculties  to 
confirm.  Finally,  the  Council  declares  (Sess.  vii. 
can.  9)  that  '  in  Confirmation  a  character  is 
imprinted  in  the  soul,  that  is,  a  certain  spiritual 
and  indelible  sign,  on  account  of  which  the 
Sacrament  cannot  be  repeated.'  It  will  be  observed 
that  this  leaves  many  questions  open.  In  parti- 
cular, nothing  is  said  as  to  the  time  and  manner  of 
the  institution  by  Christ,  whether  direct  or  in- 
direct ;  and  no  definition  is  given  regarding  the 
matter  and  form — for  example,  as  to  whether  the 
use  of  chrism  is  essential  to  the  validity  of  the 
Sacrament. 

Of  late  years  another  pronouncement,  which, 
however,  is  not  usually  regarded  as  possessing 
infallible  authority,  has  been  made  in  the  decree 
of  the  Inquisition,  Lamentabili  sane,  of  3rd  July 
1907.  This,  in  its  44th  heading,  condemns  the 
following  proposition  as  an  error,  viz. ,  '  there  is  no 
proof  that  the  rite  of  the  Sacrament  of  Confirma- 
tion was  employed  by  the  Apostles ;  while  the 
formal  distinction  between  the  two  Sacraments, 
Baptism  and  Confirmation,  has  no  place  in  the 
history  of  primitive  Christianity'  (Denzinger- 
Bannwart,  Enchiridion10,  Freiburg,  1908,  n.  2044). 

Lastly,  it  should  be  noticed  that,  according  to 
the  teaching  outlined  in  the  above-mentioned 
Decretum  pro  Armenis,  and  universally  held  by 
Catholic  theologians,  the  Sacrament  of  Baptism  is 
vitas  spiritualis  janua,  and  consequently  no  other 
Sacrament  can  take  effect  except  in  the  case  of 
those  who  have  first  been  admitted  to  the  life  of 
supernatural  grace  through  these  portals.  Hence 
it  follows  that,  if  Confirmation  should  precede 
Baptism,  it  would  be  invalid. 

2.  Adjustment  of  theory  to  historical  fact. — It 
must  be  sufficiently  obvious  that,  accepting  the 
foregoing  as  a  summary  of  approved  Roman  teach- 
ing upon   the   Sacrament  of   Confirmation,  some 

1  This  point  of  view  may  be  curiously  paralleled  by  some  of 
the  prayers  of  the  early  coronation  rituals,  in  which  the 
sovereign  is  described  by  the  officiant  prelate  as  receiving  his 
crown  per  impositionem  manus  nostrce  (e.g.  in  Legg,  Three 
Coronation  Orders,  Henry  Bradshaw  Soc,  1900,  p.  62) ;  and  it  is 
supported  by  the  wording  of  the  Professio  Fidei  of  Michael 
Palseologus,  drafted  at  the  Second  Council  of  Lyons  (1274), 
which  speaks  of  the  sacramentum  conjirmationis  quod  per 
manuun  impositionem  episcopi  conferunt  chrismando  renatos. 


explanations  are  needed  to  bring  these  tenets  intc 
accord  with  the  facts  of  early  Church  history  set 
forth  in  the  preceding  article.  Attention  may  be 
directed,  in  particular,  to  the  following  points  : — 

(1)  Although  Trent  teaches  that  Confirmation, 
like  all  the  other  Sacraments,  was  instituted  by 
Christ,  nothing  is  positively  laid  down  concerning 
the  manner  of  that  institution,  i.e.  whether  im- 
mediate or  mediate,  whether  in  genere  or  in  specie. 
Modern  theological  opinion  seems  to  favour  the 
view  that  Christ  did  Himself  immediately  institute 
all  the  Sacraments  (i.e.  that  we  do  not  owe  their 
institution  to  the  Church,  acting  upon  His  general 
commission),  but  that  He  did  not  Himself  give 
them  all  to  the  Church  fully  constituted.  As  a 
recent  authority  puts  the  matter  : 

'On  some  Sacraments  particularly  essential  to  Christianity, 
Baptism  and  Holy  Eucharist  for  example,  Christ  explained 
Himself  completely,  bo  that  the  Church  has  had  from  the 
very  beginning  full  and  entire  consciousness  of  these  sacra- 
mental rites.  As  to  the  rest,  the  Saviour  laid  down  their  essen- 
tial principles,  leaving  to  development  to  show  the  ApostleB 
and  the  Church  what  the  Divine  Master  wished  to  accomplish. 
...  In  other  words,  Jesus  instituted  immediately  and  explicitly 
Baptism  and  Holy  Eucharist ;  He  instituted  immediately  but 
implicitly  the  five  other  Sacraments '  (Pourrat,  Thiol,  of  the 
Sacraments,  Eng.  tr.  p.  301  f.). 

(2)  It  would  be  readUy  conceded  that,  in  the 
case  of  such  a  Sacrament  as  Confirmation,  the 
historical  evidence  is  in  some  respects  imperfect 
and  obscure.  The  Church  does  not  claim  to  clear 
up  all  the  dark  passages,  but  she  claims  to  supple- 
ment by  supernatural  guidance  and  theological 
reasoning  the  data  which  we  owe  to  natural 
research. 

(3)  "With  regard  to  the  early  recognition  of  the  gift 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  as  a  distinct  rite  following  Bap- 
tism, great  stress  is  usually  laid  by  Roman  Cathoho 
theologians,  and  deservedly,  upon  the  opening  of 
the  heavens  and  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in 
the  form  of  a  dove  upon  our  Saviour  after  His 
baptism  in  the  Jordan.  •  This,  taken  in  combina- 
tion with  the  NT  passages  cited  in  §§  2  and  3  of 
the  preceding  article,  seems  to  provide  a  sound 
historical  foundation  for  such  an  immediate  but 
implicit  institution  of  the  Sacrament  by  Christ  as 
has  just  been  spoken  of. 

(4)  The  extensive  treatment  which,  following 
Connolly's  Homilies  of  Narsai,  pp.  xlii-xlix,  has 
been  given  to  the  peculiarities  of  the  ancient 
Syrian  rite  in  the  preceding  article  (§§  7  and  8), 
tends  to  obscure  the  very  local  character  of  the 
observances  by  which  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  seems 
to  be  connected  with  unctions  preceding  baptism. 
At  Jerusalem  itself,  where  the  testimony  of  St. 
Cyril  is  explicit,  as  well  as  at  Constantinople, 
Alexandria,  Northern  Africa,  Rome,  and  through- 
out the  West,  we  find  full  and  clear  historical 
evidence  which  not  only  establishes  the  practice 
of  conferring  the  Holy  Spirit  after  baptism,  either 
by  unction  or  by  imposition  of  hands,  but  points 
to  a  very  marked  consciousness  of  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  two  rites ;  in  other  words,  to 
the  recognition  of  Confirmation  as  a  sanctifica- 
tion  of  a  separate  order,  often  conferred  by  a 
separate  minister.  For  a  discussion  of  this  subject 
the  reader  may  be  referred  to  Ddlger,  Das  Sakra- 
nient  der  Firmung,  while  the  same  writer,  in  an 
article  in  the  Rom.  Quartalschrift  (1905,  pp.  1-41), 
has  dealt  with  the  archaeological  evidence  of  early 
date,  which  establishes  the  existence  in  many 
places,  e.g.  at  Naples,  Rome,  and  Salona  in 
Dalmatia,  of  a  separate  Confirmation  chapel  (con- 
signatorium,  chrismarium)  distinct  from  the  baptis- 
tery. In  the  Syrian  Church,  however,  the  accounts 
given  of  the  unction,  e.g.  the  lengthy  discussion  of 
Narsai  himself,  do  not  seem  to  remove  it  from  the 
category  of  a  mere  ceremony  subsidiary  to  bap- 
tism, while  the  effort  made  in  the  Apostolic  Con- 
stitutions to  alter   the   Syrian  practice,  introduc 


10 


CONFORMITY 


ing  an  unction  with  chrism  after  baptism  (see 
Connolly,  p.  xlvii),  points  to  a  consciousness  that 
the  former  practice  was  fundamentally  incomplete. 
Or,  can  it  be  that,  after  all,  a  post-baptismal 
unction  was  in  use,  although  for  some  unaccount- 
able reason  it  is  not  formally  spoken  of  in  the 
Syrian  texts  ?  It  is  certainly  strange  that,  as  has 
been  pointed  out  by  A.  J.  Maclean  (JTkSt,  Jan. 
1910,  p.  316),  '  in  the  present  East  Syrian  rite  the 
post-baptismal  anointing  is  not  explicitly  mentioned, 
though  it  is  usually  administered  in  practice.' 

(5)  With  regard  to  many  other  points — e.g.  the 
alleged  re-administration  of  Confirmation  when 
heretics  were  reconciled  to  the  Church  (see  pre- 
vious article,  §§  22  and  30),  the  reservation  to  the 
bishop  of  the  power  of  consecrating  the  chrism,  or, 
again,  the  history  of  the  introduction  of  the 
unctions  with  the  '  oil  of  catechumens '  and  chrism, 
which  now  precede  and  follow  the  administration 
of  baptism  in  the  Roman  rite — it  is  submitted  that 
our  ancient  authorities  do  not  speak  with  suffi- 
cient clearness  to  warrant  any  certain  conclusions. 
Much  difference  of  opinion  upon  such  matters 
exists  even  among  writers  of  the  same  theological 
sympathies. 

3.  Modern  liturgical  details. — Two  or  three 
details  of  the  ritual  prescribed  in  the  Pontificate 
Romanum  call  for  brief  comment. 

(1)  The  bishop  holds  his  hands  out  over  the 
candidates  while  saying  certain  preliminary 
prayers.  This  action  was  formerly  considered  by 
some  to  constitute  a  manuum  impositio,  and  to  be 
of  the  essence  of  the  rite. 

(2)  The  candidates — it  is  not  now  the  custom  to 
confirm  children  before  they  are  seven  or  eight 
years  old — are  presented  to  the  bishop  by  a  god- 
father or  godmother,  according  to  sex.  This  jjrac- 
tice  seems,  however,  to  date  back  to  the  time 
when  Confirmation  was  administered  immediately 
after  Baptism,  at  which  period  the  same  god- 
parents served  for  both  ceremonies. 

(3)  A  curious  rubric,  still  printed,  though  ob- 
solete in  practice,  directs  that  the  candidate  who 
is  not  an  infant  shall  place  his  foot  upon  the  foot 
of  the  godfather.  This  seems  to  be  a  vestige  of 
some  feudal  practice  of  commendation,  and  may 
be  compared  with  a  similar  practice  in  Teutonic 
marriages  (cf.  Grimm,  Deut.  Rechtsalterthiimer, 
Berlin,  1881,  pp.  142,  155-156,  and  Weinhold, 
Deutsche  Frauen2,  Vienna,  1882,  ii.  40  ff.). 

(4)  After  the  unction,  the  bishop  is  directed  to 
give  the  newly  confirmed  a  slight  blow  on  the 
cheek,  with  the  words  Pax  tecum.  This  is  most 
probably  an  imitation  of  the  blow  by  which 
knighthood  was  conferred  (cf.  the  Ordo  'De  Bene- 
dictione  Novi  Militis,'  in  the  Pontificate  Romanum; 
and  Martene,  de  Antiq.  Eccles.  Ritibus,  Venice,  1783, 
ii.  240).  But  there  is  perhaps  something  also  to  be 
said  for  the  view  that  the  blow  may  have  origin- 
ally been  given  to  the  child  to  impress  upon  his 
mind  the  fact  of  his  confirmation  (cf .  Tougard  in 
Precis  historiques,  Jan.  1888 ;  Heuser  in  Airier. 
Eccles.  Review,  May  1889;  and  F.  Brenner, 
Verrichtung  der  Firmung,  p.  68),  much  as  the 
boys  of  the  parish  were  formerly  whipped  at  speci- 
fied places  on  the  occasion  of  the  '  beating  of  the 
bounds.'  An  early  instance,  before  1200,  of  the 
mention  of  such  a  blow  in  administering  confirma- 
tion occurs  in  the  Life  of  St.  Hugh  of  Lincoln 
(Giraldus  Cambrensis>  Opera,  vii.  95). 

Literature. — The  best  historical  account  is  that  of  F.  J. 
Dolger,  Das  Sakrament  der  Firmung,  Vienna,  1906.  A  very 
full  treatment  of  the  subject  is  also  given  by  various  critics  in 
Vacant-Mangenot,  Diet,  de  thiol,  cathol.,  Paris,  1905,  iii.  975- 
1103.  Consult  also  Chardon,  Hist,  deft  sacreinents,  Paris,  1745 ;  N. 
Gihr,  Die  heil.  Sakramente,  2  vols.,  Freiburg,  1899  ;  B.  Nepefny, 
Die  Firmung,  Passau,  1869  ;  Van  Noort,  Tract,  de  Sacramentis, 
Amsterdam,  1905  ;  M.  Grabmann,  Gesch.  der  scholast.  Methode, 
Freiburg,  1909 ;  P.  Pourrat,  La  Thiol,  sacramenlaire'*,  Paris, 
1909  (Eng.  tr..  St.  Louis,  Mo..  1910);  F.  Brenner.  Gesehicktl. 


Darstell.  der  Verrichtung  der  Firmung,  Wnrzburg,  1820:  J. 
Pohle,  Lehrb.  d.  Dogmata?,  Paderborn,  1907  ;  J.  Turmel,  Hist, 
de  la  thiol,  positive,  Paris,  1904 ;  Tanquerey,  Synopsis  Theol. 
Dogmata,  Paris,  1908,  vol.  ii. ;  L.  Billot,  De  Ecclesice  Sacra, 
■mentis,  Rome,  1896 ;  C.  S.  J.  Pesch,  Proslectiones  Dogmatizes, 
vol.  vi.3,  Freiburg,  1908 ;  F.  Probst,  Sahramente  und  Sakra- 
mentalien  in  den  drei  ersten  J  ahrhunderten,  Tubingen,  1872 ; 
G.  L.  Hahn,  Die  Lehre  von  den  Sakramenten,  Breslau,  1864. 

Herbert  Thurston. 

CONFORMITY.— The  ethical  question  regard- 
ing conformity  is,  How  far  may  a  man,  from  regard 
to  the  feelings  or  authority  of  others,  consent  in 
outward  action  to  what,  apart  from  such  regard, 
he  is  not  inwardly  convinced  is  right  or  true,  or 
what  he  is  even  inwardly  convinced  is  not  right  or 
true — more  shortly,  How  far  may  a  man  conceal 
or  act  against  his  own  inward  conviction,  in  defer- 
ence to  the  feelings  of  other  persons  or  to  external 
authority  ?  Such  a  question  cannot  be  simply  set 
aside  as  illegitimate,  unless  we  are  prepared  to 
assert  for  certain  abstract  formulae  of  duty  (e.g. 
that  we  ought  to  speak  the  truth)  a  kind  of  abso- 
luteness which  ignores  the  social  ends  to  which  all 
duties  are  relative,  and  ignores  also  the  way  in 
which  a  general  rule,  valid  under  ordinary  and 
tacitly  assumed  conditions,  may  he  modified  or 
abrogated  by  the  presence  of  extraordinary  condi- 
tions not  contemplated  in  the  general  statement. 
No  one  would  seriously  contend,  e.g.,  that  the  duty 
of  promise-keeping  requires  the  promiser  not  to 
stop  even  to  save  a  drowning  man's  life,  if  by  so 
doing  he  would  have  to  break  an  appointment. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  is  evident  that  our  question 
is,  as  it  has  been  called  (Morley,  On  Compromise), 
'  a  question  of  boundaries,'  a  question  involving  a 
conflict  of  duties.  And,  so  far  as  the  decision  of 
such  questions  turns  upon  the  infinite  variety  and 
subtle  details  of  personal  relations  between  in- 
dividuals, ethical  science  can  have  nothing  to  say 
beyond  the  vaguest  generalities,  such  as  that,  on 
the  one  hand,  we  ought  not  unnecessarily  to  wound 
other  people's  feelings,  or  that,  on  the  other,  we 
ought  not  to  suppress  our  convictions  except  for 
grave  reasons.  It  is  difficult,  e.g.,  to  see  how  the 
writer  just  quoted  is  entitled  to  say,  so  emphatically 
as  he  does,  that  '  one  relationship  in  life,  and  one 
only,  justifies  us  in  being  silent  where  otherwise  it 
would  be  right  to  speak  ;  this  relationship  is  that 
between  child  and  parents'  (op.  cit.  p.  165).  If  we 
take  a  duty  such  as  that  of  a  son  to  support  and 
care  for  his  parents  in  old  age,  it  is  obvious  that 
the  duty  is  one  which  falls  upon  a  son  as  such : 
the  relationship  is  the  very  basis  of  the  duty. 
But  we  can  hardly  say  the  same  of  the  duty  of 
suppressing  one's  convictions :  here  the  relation- 
ship seems  to  require  only  that  added  degree  of 
deference  which  a  son  will  naturally  pay  to  his 
parents'  opinions  in  all  relations  of  life.  And,  if 
so,  it  is  surely  paradoxical  to  contend  that  a  like 
deference  is  not  equally  obligatory  in  the  more 
intimate  relation  of  husband  and  wife. 

It  would  seem,  then,  that  the  only  cases  in  which 
we  can  look  for  a  definite  development  of  ethical 
doctrine  in  regard  to  conformity — as  distinguished 
from  mere  casuistical  discussion — are  those  in 
which  some  external  authority  has  a  peculiar 
claim  upon  our  conformity,  in  a  sense  analogous 
to  that  in  which  parents  have  a  peculiar  claim 
to  their  boy's  obedience  or  to  their  adult  son's 
support.  The  two  authorities  which  most  evi- 
dently possess  such  a  claim,  and  whose  claims 
most  need  discussion,  are  the  State  and  the 
Church.  How  far  is  a  citizen  morally  permitted  or 
obliged  to  obey  legal  injunctions  of  whose  nature 
or  objects  he  disapproves?  How  far,  e.g.,  is 
military  service  to  be  obligatory  upon  a  Quaker, 
payment  of  Church  rates  upon  a  Dissenter?  And 
the  question  of  obligation  is,  of  course,  both  ac- 
centuated and  modified  when  the  citizen  is  himself 
an  official  of  the  State  acting  as  such;  e.g.,  how 


CONFORMITY 


11 


far  is  a  soldier  or  a  subordinate  officer,  when 
ordered  to  fire  upon  a  mob,  relieved  from  all 
moral  responsibility  by  the  fact  of  his  superior's 
command  ?  Very  similar  questions  are  raised  by 
the  Church's  claim  to  authority.  How  far  may  a 
layman,  and  still  more  a  clergyman,  subscribe  a 
creed  which  he  does  not  fully  or  literally  believe  ? 
All  that  can  be  attempted  here  is  to  point  out 
some  of  the  more  general  considerations  which 
■must  be  kept  steadily  in  view  if  these  questions 
ire  to  be  adequately  discussed.  In  the  first  place, 
we  must  put  aside  as  an  empty  truism — irrelevant 
or  even  question-begging — the  assertion  that  a  man 
must  at  all  costs  obey  his  conscience.  For  our 
problem  is  precisely  to  determine  what,  in  the 
above  cases,  conscience  really  commands.  We 
cannot,  then,  from  the  ethical  point  of  view,  start 
with  a  deliverance  of  conscience  as  a  fixed  datum. 
(From  the  political  point  of  view,  the  ruler  must 
needs  take  the  conscience  of  any  section  of  his 
subjects  as  a  datum  to  be  reckoned  with.  Not 
that  he  is  obliged  to  give  way  to  their  conscience 
if  he  thinks  them  wrong, — for  the  sanctity  of  con- 
science can  extend,  in  any  ultimate  sense,  no 
further  than  the  amount  of  moral  truth  which  it 
apprehends, — but  he  must  take  it  into  account  as 
one  of  the  data  of  his  problem.  A  Christian  ruler 
might  be  very  unwise  in  trying  to  enforce  mono- 
gamy on  a  Muhammadan  population,  and  yet  the 
United  States  be  entirely  justified  in  putting  down 
Mormonism. )  In  the  second  place,  we  must  be  on 
our  guard  against  a  fallacy  into  which  we  are 
likely  to  fall,  if  we  begin  by  considering  what  the 
individual's  duty  would  be,  apart  from  his  relation 
to  the  external  authority,  and  then  bring  in  this 
relation  as  a  modifying  circumstance.  For  we  are 
then  apt  to  think  of  the  relation  as  merely  a  modi- 
fying circumstance,  in  the  sense  of  being  essentially 
subordinate  to  the  abstract  rule  of  duty.  That  is 
to  say,  we  are  apt  to  assume  beforehand  that  the 
relation  to  the  external  authority  cannot  be  im- 

Sortant  enough  to  alter  the  whole  character  of  the 
uty.  And  thus,  by  the  very  form  in  which  we 
put  our  question,  we  already  go  far  to  prejudge 
the  answer.  It  would  he  absurd,  e.g.,  to  begin  the 
consideration  of  the  duty  of  military  service  in 
time  of  war  by  laying  down  that  we  may  not  kill 
a  man  who  has  done  no  wrong,  and  then  go  on  to 
ask  whether  we  may  break  this  rule  at  the  com- 
mand of  the  State.  If,  with  Tolstoi,  we  begin  by 
putting  the  question  in  this  form,  we  have  already 
committed  ourselves,  tacitly  or  by  implication,  to 
that  denial  of  the  value  and  authority  of  the  State 
as  an  institution  to  which  he  proceeds  to  give  open 
expression  (Kingdom  of  God  is  within  you,  1894, 
ch.  vii.).  But,  on  any  less  extravagant  view  than 
his,  it  is  impossible  for  the  citizen  of  a  State,  that 
is  to  say,  the  institution  on  which  the  whole  sys- 
tem of  law  and  order  in  life  practically  depends,  to 
treat  his  relation  to  the  State  in  any  matter  of 
public  duty  as  a  mere  qualifying  circumstance  to 
be  taken  into  account  after  his  duty  has  been 
otherwise  determined.  In  any  matter  of  public 
duty  the  real  question  at  issue  as  regards  con- 
formity is  always  this,  Do  I  think  the  particular 
human  interest *  that  is  endangered  by  conformity 
so  vital,  that  I,  with  others  of  like  mind,  am  pre- 
pared to  endanger,  by  our  refusal  of  service  or  our 
passive  resistance  or  our  active  rebellion,  the  in- 
stitution on  which  the  whole  fabric  of  human 
interests  depends  ?  This,  at  any  rate,  is  the  ques- 
tion of  principle.     To  say,  with  regard  to  a  par- 

1  It  might  be  objected  that  what  is  endangered  by  war  is, 
not  a  particular  human  interest,  but  the  sanctity  of  human  life 
in  general.  But  the  objection  simply  repeats  the  original 
fallacy.  There  is  no  World-Empire  which  could  assert  the 
sanctity  of  human  life  against  warring  States,  and  therefore 
we  have  to  choose,  not  between  a  cosmopolitan  and  a  civic 
patriotism,  but  between  a  civic  patriotism  and  anarchy. 


ticular  case,  that  no  such  danger  to  the  State  ia 
likely  to  ensue,  is  (1)  to  admit  that  the  interest, 
however  important  in  itself,  is  a  narrow  one  ;  and 
(2)  to  ignore  the  fact  that  the  State  depends  on  a 
universal  habit  of  obedience,  which  is  undermined 
in  some  degree  by  every  example  of  disobedience. 
If,  then,  the  citizen  cannot  answer  the  above  ques- 
tion of  principle  in  the  affirmative,  he  does  no 
wrong  by  conformity — provided  always,  of  course, 
that  in  his  capacity  as  a  citizen  he  uses  all  lawful 
means  to  secure  the  particular  interest  endangered. 

We  have  illustrated  the  duty  of  conformity,  as 
regards  the  ordinary  citizen,  from  the  supposed 
case  of  a  citizen  required  to  serve  in  the  army.  It 
is  worth  while  to  illustrate  the  duty  of  an  official 
of  the  State  from  the  corresponding  case  of  a 
soldier  required,  e.g. ,  to  fire  on  a  mob.  For  it  is 
interesting  to  observe  that  our  English  system  of 
law  commits  in  practice,  and  in  an  even  aggra- 
vated form,  the  same  mistake  as  that  to  which  we 
have  objected  in  theory.  It  treats  the  soldier's 
special  duty  of  obedience  to  military  law  as  a 
mere  qualifying  circumstance  in  relation  to  his 
general  civic  duty  to  obey  the  ordinary  law  of  the 
land ;  or,  rather,  it  says  he  must  obey  both  laws, 
and  choose  as  best  he  can  which  to  obey  when 
they  conflict.  Hence  '  he  may  ...  be  liable  to 
be  shot  by  a  court-martial  if  he  disobeys  an  order, 
and  to  be  hanged  by  a  judge  and  jury  if  he  obeys 
it '  (Dicey,  Law  of  the  Constitution*,  1902,  p.  298, 
and  cf.  case  cited  p.  297,  note  4).  In  the  actual 
working  of  the  legal  machinery  the  absurdity  of 
this  situation  is,  of  course,  largely  relieved  by 
reliance  on  the  common  sense  of  a  jury  and  by 
the  power  of  the  Crown  '  to  nullify  the  effect  of  an 
unjust  conviction  by  means  of  a  pardon'  (Dicey, 
p.  301).  But  the  situation  illustrates  very  well 
the  practical  consequences  of  the  theoretical  error. 

The  question  of  religious  conformity  differs 
from  that  of  civic  in  this  respect,  that  member- 
ship of  a  Church  is  voluntary  in  a  sense  in  which 
citizenship  is  not.  We  ought  not,  indeed,  to 
exaggerate  this  difference,  for  in  the  case  of  a 
person  of  strong  religious  convictions,  and  of 
(what  may  be  roughly  called)  '  high '  Church 
views,  it  may  amount  to  very  little  in  practice. 
We  can  hardly  wonder,  e.g.,  at  the  submission 
with  which  Roman  Catholic  disbelievers  in  Papal 
Infallibility  received  the  decree,  when  the  choice 
lay  between  submission  and  excommunication. 
Provided  that  we  recognize,  however,  that  Pro- 
testants and  Nonconformists  are,  in  the  very 
nature  of  the  case,  disposed  to  take  a  less  grave 
view  of  schism  in  the  ecclesiastical  sphere  than  the 
secular  moralist  must  take  of  rebellion  in  the  civic 
sphere,  the  question  of  principle  and  the  general 
considerations  to  be  kept  in  view  are  otherwise 
similar.  If  we  begin  by  assuming  that  the  re- 
petition of  a  creed  in  a  church  service  is  to  be 
judged  like  an  ordinary  assertion  made  with  refer- 
ence to  a  simple  matter  of  fact  in  words  chosen 
by  ourselves,  and  that  subscription  to  a  creed  is 
to  be  judged  like  an  ordinary  promise  made  with 
reference  to  a  particular  act  in  terms  chosen  by 
ourselves,  and  that  the  only  question  as  regards 
conformity,  accordingly,  is  whether  and  how  far 
we  may  relax  the  ordinary  rules  of  truth-speaking 
and  promise-keeping  in  church  matters  without 
bad  results,  we  simply  prejudge  the  answer  from  the 
outset.  We  may  as  well  go  on  to  repudiate  creeds 
and  Churches  altogether,  as  Tolstoi  repudiates  the 
State.  Argument  about  the  function  of  a  creed 
and  the  adequacy  of  actual  creeds  does  not  fall 
within  the  scope  of  this  article,  any  more  than 
argument  about  unity  and  schism.  So  it  will 
here  be  simply  assumed  that  the  kind  of  creed 
with  which  we  are  practically  concerned  is  to  be 
regarded  as  a  traditional  symbol  of  the  Church's 


12 


CONFUCIAN  RELIGION 


faith,  and  is  to  be  interpreted  by  the  authority  of 
the  present-day  Church  itself.  From  the  point  of 
view  thus  assumed  we  must  regard  such  an  accusa- 
tion as  that  of  '  hard,  flat,  unmistakable  false- 
hood' (Sidgwick,  in  the  controversy  referred  to 
in  literature  below),  brought  against  clergymen 
who  do  not  accept  certain  propositions  in  the 
Apostles'  Creed  in  their  literal  sense,  as  analo- 
gous to  the  accusation  of  murder  brought  against 
soldiers  who,  under  orders,  fire  on  an  enemy  or  on 
a  riotous  mob.  The  only  objective  definition  of 
the  extent  of  the  clergyman's  obligation  is  that 
which  is  given  to  it  by  the  authoritative  organs  of 
the  Church's  government.  And  if  he  satisfies  his 
own  ecclesiastical  superiors,  outsiders  have  no  right 
to  apply  to  his  action  a  standard  which  implicitly 
sets  aside  the  Church's  authority.  We  need  not, 
of  course,  deny  that  a  Church  would  do  well  to 
revise  a  creed  which  in  any  considerable  measure 
has  ceased  to  afford  an  adequate  expression  of  its 
faith.  But  this  is  a  question  of  the  Church's 
obligation  rather  than  of  the  individual  clergy- 
man's. Just  as  a  citizen  may — within  wide  limits 
— rightly  conform  to  a  law  which  he  thinks  unjust, 
so  too  a  churchman  may — within  corresponding,  if 
perhaps  narrower,  limits — rightly  conform  to  a 
creed  that  contains  propositions  which  he  thinks 
untrue  (whether  in  a  historical  or  in  a  religious 
sense)  —  provided  always,  of  course,  that  the 
churchman,  like  the  citizen,  has  used  all  lawful 
means  to  have  the  evil  remedied. 

A  special  difficulty  is  caused  by  the  fact,  just 
alluded  to,  that  propositions  may  be  true  in  a 
religious  sense,  while  false  in  a  literal,  historical, 
or  scientific  sense ;  or,  to  put  the  distinction  in  a 
less  objectionable  or  ambiguous  way,  a  proposition 
intended  to  express  a  genuine  religious  truth, 
which  the  believer  does  accept,  may  express  it  in 
a  form  which  he  is  unable  to  accept,  not  because 
of  any  religious  reason,  but  because  the  proposi- 
tion so  formulated  combines  the  genuine  religious 
truth  with  other  statements  neither  true  nor  re- 
ligious ;  e.g. ,  to  very  many  religious  persons  the 
Divinity  of  Christ  is  inconceivable  apart  from 
His  miraculous  birth,  but  to  others  '  it  is  just 
blasphemy  to  suppose  that  the  divinity  of  a  man 
who  comes  nearer  to  God  than  other  men  consists 
in  some  abnormality  of  his  physical  organization ' 
(Nettleship,  Philosophical  Remains,  1897,  p.  105 ; 
of.  whole  Letter).  If  the  Church  at  large  enforces 
the  former  view,  while  the  individual  takes  the 
latter,  the  case  is  specially  hard,  because  the 
individual  then  finds  himself  expelled  from  the 
communion  of  the  Church,  although  he  is  not 
conscious  of  any  real  or  religious  divergence  from 
its  faith.     See  also  art.  Nonconformity. 

Literature. — On  the  general  ethical  principles  :  T.  H.  Green, 
Proleg.  to  Ethics,  Oxford,  1883,  bk.  iv.  ch.  ii.,  and  Prim:,  of 
Polit.  Obligation  (reprinted  from  Works,  vol.  ii.),  Lond.  1895, 
especially  sect.  H.  On  conformity  generally :  J.  Morley,  On 
Compromise1*,  Lond.  1877  (often  reprinted)."  On  the  ethics  of 
religious  conformity  :  an  interesting  discussion  between  J.  Sidg- 
wick and  H.  Rashdall  in  IJE,  vols.  vi.  and  vii.,  1896-7,  con- 
tinued by  Sidgwick,  Practical  Ethics,  Lond.  1898,  pp.  142  ft., 
and  T.  O.  Smith,  IJE,  vol.  x.  HENRY  BARKER. 

CONFUCIAN  RELIGION.— The  Confucian 
religion  is  the  ancient  religion  of  China,  the  wor- 
ship of  the  Universe  by  worship  of  its  parts  and 
phenomena.  In  the  age  of  Han,  two  centuries 
before  and  two  after  the  birth  of  Christ,  that  Uni- 
versalism  divided  itself  into  two  branches — Taoism 
and  Confucianism,  and  simultaneously  Buddhism 
was  grafted  upon  it.  Buddhism  probably  found  its 
way  into  China  principally  in  the  universalistic 
form  which  is  called  Mahayana,  so  that  it  could 
live  and  thrive  perfectly  upon  the  congeneric  stem. 
And  so  we  have  in  China  three  religions,  as 
three  branches  upon  one  root  or  trunk,  which  is 
Universalism. 


The  Chinese  Empire  was  created  in  the  3rd  cent. 
B.C.,  when  the  mighty  Shi  Hwang,  of  the  Ts'ing 
dynasty,  which  had  ruled  in  the  north-west  since 
the  9th  cent.  B.C.,  destroyed  in  streams  of  blood 
the  complex  of  States  which,  up  to  that  time,  had 
existed  in  the  birthplace  of  higher  East  Asian 
culture,  the  home  of  Confucius  and  Mencius.  But 
the  House  of  Ts'ing  did  not  exist  long  enough  to 
organize  the  great  creation  of  this  first  Emperor 
of  China.  It  collapsed  after  a  few  years,  giving 
place  to  the  glorious  House  of  Han,  which  main- 
tained itself  and  its  throne  till  the  3rd  cent.  A.D. 
This  dynasty,  in  organizing  the  enGrmous  young 
Empire,  built  up  a  political  constitution,  naturally 
and  systematically  taking  for  its  guide  the  prin- 
ciples, rules,  and  precedents  of  the  old  time,  that  is 
to  say,  the  ancient  literature,  in  so  far  as  it  was  not 
irrecoverably  lost  in  the  flames  which  Shi  Hwang, 
in  a  frenzy  of  pride,  had  kindled  to  devour  it. 
With  a  view  to  the  completion  of  this  gigantic 
task  of  organization,  this  classical  literature  was 
sought  for,  restored,  emended,  commented  upon, 
and  thus  there  arose  a  classical,  ultra-conservative 
State-constitution,  which,  handed  down  as  an 
heirloom  to  all  succeeding  dynasties,  exists  to 
this  day.  The  religious  elements  contained  in 
the  classics  were  necessarily  incorporated  with 
that  constitution,  together  with  the  political, 
seeing  that  everything  contained  in  the  classics 
was  to  be  preserved  and  developed  as  a  holy 
institution  or  the  ancients  ;  in  other  words,  those 
religious  elements  became  the  State  religion.  This 
is,  in  consequence,  now  fully  two  thousand  years 
old.  Its  basal  principle,  Universalism,  is,  of 
course,  older,  much  older  than  the  classical  books 
by  which  it  has  been  preserved.  As  is  the  case 
with  many  origins,  that  of  China's  Universalism 
is  lost  in  the  darkness  of  antiquity. 

With  the  classical  books  the  name  of  Confucius 
is  inseparably  associated.  Five  are  called  King  j 
the  others  are  called  Shu.  Certainly  Confucius 
did  not  write  them  all ;  they  belong  partly  to  a 
much  older,  partly  to  a  later,  period.  He  is  held 
to  have  written  only  one  King,  the  Ch'un-ts'iu. 
Three  other  Kings,  called  the  Shu,  or  Book  of  His- 
tory, the  Shi,  or  Songs,  and  the  Yih,  or  Natural 
Mutations,  he  is  said  merely  to  have  compiled  or 
edited ;  and  even  this  may  not  be  true.  In  the 
books  which  constitute  the  fifth  King,  entitled 
Li-ki,  or  Memorials  on  Social  Laws  and  Rites,  he 
and  his  disciples  are  mentioned  so  frequently  that 
this  classic  appears  to  have  been  composed  from 
information  about  him,  and  from  sayings  origin- 
ating with  himself.  The  four  Shu  originated 
almost  entirely  with  disciples  of  the  sage  ;  they 
contain  sayings,  doctrines,  and  conversations  of 
their  master,  mostly  of  an  ethical  and  political 
complexion.  The  titles  are  :  Lun-yu,  or  Discourses 
and  Conversations  ;  Chung-yung,  or  Doctrine  of 
the  Mean  ;  Tai-hioh,  or  Great  Study  ;  and  Meng- 
tszi,  or  (Works  of)  Mencius. 

We  may  then  just  as  well  call  Confucianism 
Classicism,  and  the  classics  the  holy  books  or 
bibles  of  Confucianism.  Universalism,  which  it 
represents,  is  known  by  the  name  of  Taoism. 
Indeed,  its  starting-point  is  the  Tao,  which  means 
the  '  Koad '  or  '  Way,'  that  is  to  say,  the  road  in 
which  the  Universe  moves,  its  method  and  pro- 
cesses, its  conduct  and  operation,  the  complex  of 
phenomena  regularly  recurring  in  it — in  short, 
the  Order  of  the  World,  Nature,  or  Natural 
Order.  Actually,  it  is  in  the  main  the  annual 
rotation  of  the  seasons,  the  process  of  cenovation 
and  decay  of  Nature  ;  and  it  may,  accordingly,  be 
called  Time,  the  creator  and  destroyer.  Accord- 
ing to  the  classics,  Tao  is  the  Yang  and  the  Yin, 
the  two  cosmic  souls  or  breaths  which  represent 
the  male  and  the  female   part  of  the   Universe, 


CONFUCIAN  RELIGION 


13 


assimilated  respectively  with  the  fructifying 
Heavens,  and  with  the  Earth  which  they- fructify, 
as  also  with  heat  and  cold,  light  and  darkness. 
The  vicissitudes  of  these  souls,  indeed,  every  year 
produce  the  seasons  and  their  phenomena. 

Universalism  defines  the  Yang  as  a  supreme 
universal  shen,  or  deity,  living,  creating,  which 
divides  itself  into  an  infinite  number  of  shen,  and 
deposes  them  into  beings ;  and  it  defines  the 
Yin  as  a  universal  kwei,  likewise  divisible  into 
myriads  of  particles,  each  of  which,  in  a  man, 
may  form  his  other  soul.  Accordingly,  creation 
is  a  continuous  emanation  or  effusion,  and  de- 
struction a  never  ceasing  re-absorption,  of  particles 
of  the  Yang  and  the  Yin.  These  particles,  the 
shen  and  kwei,  are  innumerable.  The  Universe 
is  crowded  with  them  in  all  its  parts.  A  shen, 
being  a  part  of  the  Yang,  or  the  beatific  half  of 
the  Universe,  is  a  good  spirit  or  a  god,  and  a  kwei, 
belonging  to  the  Yin,  is,  as  a  rule,  a  spirit  of  evil,  a 
spectre,  a  devil,  or  demon.  As  there  is  no  power 
beyond  the  Tao,  there  is  no  good  in  the  Universe 
but  that  which  comes  from  the  shen,  no  evil  but 
that  which  the  kwei  cause  or  infliet. 

We  may,  accordingly,  say  that  Confucianism 
is  a  universalistic  Animism,  polytheistic  and  poly- 
demonistic.  The  gods  are  such  shen  as  animate 
heaven,  the  sun  and  moon,  the  stars,  wind,  rain, 
clouds,  thunder,  the  earth,  mountains,  rivers,  etc. ; 
in  particular  also  the  shen  of  deceased  men  are 
gods.  And  kwei  swarm  everywhere  ;  this  is  a 
dogma  as  true  as  the  existence  of  the  Yin,  as  true 
also  as  the  existence  of  the  Tao,  or  Order  of  the 
World.  They  perform  in  that  Order  the  part  of 
distributers  of  evil,  thus  exercising  a  dominant 
influence  over  human  fate.  But,  since  the  Yang  is 
high  above  the  Yin,  as  high  as  heaven  which  be- 
longs to  it  is  above  the  earth,  Heaven  is  the  chief 
shen,  or  god,  who  rules  and  controls  all  spectres 
and  their  actions  ;  and  so  theology  has  this  great 
dogma,  that  no  spirits  harm  men  without  the 
authorization  of  Heaven  or  its  silent  consent. 
They  are,  accordingly,  Heaven's  agents  for  pun- 
ishing the  bad  ;  and  this  dogma  is  a  principal 
article  in  the  Confucian  system  of  ethics. 

I.  Because  the  Emperor  stands  at  the  head  of  the 
realm,  nay,  of  the  whole  earth,  he  is  the  head  of 
the  State  religion.  He  acknowledges  the  superi- 
ority only  of  Heaven,  whose  son  he  is.  Heaven  is 
the  natural  protector  of  his  throne  and  house, 
which  would  unavoidably  perish  if,  by  wicked 
conduct,  he  forfeited  Heaven's  favour.  Heaven 
is  the  highest  god  that  exists,  there  being  in  the 
Chinese  system  no  god  beyond  the  world,  no 
maker  of  it,  no  Jahweh,  no  Allah.  It  bears  to 
this  hour  its  old  classical  names,  Tien,  Heaven  ; 
Ti,  Emperor  ;  or  Shang-ti,  Supreme  Emperor  (cf. 
also  vol.  iii.  p.  549  f.). 

The  most  important  sacrifice  offered  to  this  god 
takes  place  on  the  night  of  the  winter-solstice,  an 
important  moment  in  the  Order  of  the  World, 
when  Heaven's  beneficent  influence  is  re-born, 
because  the  Yang,  or  light  and  heat,  then  begins 
to  increase  after  having  descended  to  its  lowest  ebb. 
The  sacrifice  is  presented  on  the  so-called  Bound 
Eminence  (yuen  khiu),  also  known  as  the  Altar 
of  Heaven  {Tien  tan),  which  stands  to  the  south 
of  the  Tatar  city.  This  altar,  quite  open  to  the 
sky,  is  composed  of  three  circular  marble  terraces 
of  different  diameters,  placed  one  above  the  other, 
all  provided  with  marble  balustrades,  and  access- 
ible by  staircases  which  exactly  face  the  four 
chief  points  of  the  compass.  At  the  northern 
and  eastern  sides  there  are  buildings  for  various 
purposes.  A  wide  area,  partly  a  park  with 
gigantic  trees,  and  surrounded  by  high  walls, 
lies  around  this  altar,  which  is  the  largest  in 
the  world.      On   the  longest   night  of   the   year, 


the  Emperor  proceeds  to  the  altar,  escorted  by 
princes,  grandees,  officers,  and  troops,  to  the  num- 
ber of  many  hundreds.  Everybody  is  in  the  richest 
ceremonial  dress.  The  spectacle,  illuminated  by 
the  scanty  light  of  large  torches,  is  most  impos- 
ing. Every  magnate,  minister,  and  mandarin  has 
his  assigned  place  on  the  altar  and  its  terraces, 
or  on  the  marble  pavement  which  surrounds  it. 
On  the  upper  terrace,  a  large  tablet,  inscribed 
'  Imperial  Heaven,  Supreme  Emperor,'  stands  in 
a  shrine  on  the  north  side,  and  faces  due  south. 
In  two  rows,  facing  east  and  west,  are  shrines 
which  contain  tablets  of  the  ancestors  of  the 
Emperor.  Before  each  tablet  a  variety  of  sacri- 
ficial food  is  placed — soup,  meat,  fish,  dates,  chest- 
nuts, rice,  vegetables,  spirits,  etc.,  all  conformably 
to  ancient  classical  precedent  and  tradition.  On 
the  second  terrace  are  tablets  for  the  spirits  of  the 
sun,  the  moon,  the  Great  Bear,  the  five  planets, 
the  twenty-eight  principal  constellations,  and  the 
host  of  stars  ;  furthermore,  there  are  those  of  the 
winds,  clouds,  rain,  and  thunder.  Before  these 
tablets  are  dishes  and  baskets  with  sacrificial 
articles.  Cows,  goats,  and  swine  have  been 
slaughtered  for  all  those  offerings,  and,  while 
the  ceremonies  are  proceeding,  a  bullock  or  heifer 
is  burning  on  a  pyre  as  a  special  offering  to  high 
heaven.  The  Emperor,  who  has  purified  himself 
for  the  solemnity  by  fasting,  is  led  up  the  altar  by 
the  southern  flight  of  steps,  which  on  both  sides  is 
crowded  by  dignitaries.  Directors  of  the  cere- 
monies guide  him,  and  loudly  proclaim  every 
action  or  rite  which  he  has  to  perform.  The 
spirit  of  Heaven  is  invited,  by  means  of  a  hymn 
accompanied  by  sacred  music,  to  descend  and 
settle  in  the  tablet.  Before  this  tablet,  and 
subsequently  before  those  of  his  ancestors,  the 
Emperor  offers  incense,  jade,  silk,  broth,  and 
rice-spirits.  He  humbly  kneels,  and  knocks  his 
forehead  against  the  pavement  several  times.  A 
grandee  reads  a  statutory  prayer  in  a  loud  voice, 
and  several  officials  offer  incense,  silk,  and  spirits 
to  the  tablets  of  the  sun,  moon,  stars,  clouds,  rain, 
wind,  and  thunder.  Finally,  the  sacrificial  gifts  are 
carried  away,  thrown  into  furnaces,  and  burned. 

This  Imperial  sacrifice  is  probably  the  most 
pompous  worship  which  ever  has  been  paid  on  this 
earth  to  a  divinity  of  Nature.  It  is  attended  by 
a  large  body  of  musicians  and  religious  dancers, 
performing  at  every  important  moment. 

In  the  same  vast  altar-park  there  is,  to  the 
north  of  the  Bound  Eminence,  another  altar  of 
the  same  form,  but  of  smaller  dimensions,  bear- 
ing a  large  circular  building  with  dome  or 
cupola,  called  ki  nien  tien,  or  '  temple  where 
prayers  are  sent  up  for  a  good  year,'  that  is  to 
say,  for  an  abundant  harvest  throughout  the  Em- 
pire. Here  a  sacrifice  is  offered  by  the  Emperor 
to  Heaven  and  to  his  ancestors,  in  the  first  decade 
of  the  first  month  of  the  year ;  while,  to  obtain 
seasonable  rains  for  the  crops,  a  sacrifice  is  pre- 
sented in  the  same  building,  in  the  first  month  of 
the  summer,  to  the  same  tablets,  as  also  to  those 
of  rain,  thunder,  clouds,  and  winds.  This  cere- 
mony is  repeated  if  rains  do  not  fall  in  due 
time  or  sufficiently  copiously.  These  sacrifices 
are  mostly  performed  by  princes  or  ministers,  as 
proxies  of  the  Son  of  Heaven. 

The  ritual  for  all  the  State  sacrifices  is  similar 
to  that  for  Heaven,  but  the  pomp  and  offerings 
vary  with  the  rank  of  the  gods. 

Next  to  Heaven  in  the  series  of  State  divinities 
is  Earth,  called  officially  Hu-t'u,  or  '  Empress 
Earth,'  whose  square  altar  of  marble,  open  to  the 
sky,  is  situated  in  a  vast  walled  park,  outside  the 
northern  wall  of  Peking.  Here  a  solemn  sacrifice 
is  offered  annually  by  the  Emperor,  or  his  proxy, 
on  the  day  of  the  summer  solstice,  to  the  tablet 


14 


CONFUCIAN  RELIGION 


of  Earth  and  to  those  of  the  Imperial  ancestors, 
and,  on  the  second  terrace,  to  the  tablets  of  the 
chief  mountains,  rivers,  and  seas. 

From  the  fact  that  the  Emperor,  in  performing 
the  sacrifices  to  Heaven  and  Earth,  allots  a  second 
place  to  the  tablets  of  his  ancestors,  it  follows  that 
they  stand,  in  the  system  of  the  State  religion, 
next  to  Heaven  and  Earth  in  rank.  Solemn  sacri- 
fices are  offered  to  them  by  the  Emperor  in  the 
Tai  miao,  or  '  Grand  Temple,'  on  the  south-east 
of  the  Palace  grounds,  and  at  the  mausolea,  in 
temples  erected  there,  one  in  front  of  each  grave- 
mound. 

Next  in  rank  to  the  Imperial  ancestors  in  the 
pantheon  of  the  State  are  the  Sii-Tsih,  or  gods  of 
the  ground,  and  of  millet  or  corn.  They  have 
their  large  open  altar  in  a  park  to  the  west  of  the 
Grand  Temple.  The  Emperor  sacrifices  there  in 
spring  and  autumn,  or  sends  a  proxy  to  perform 
this  high-priestly  duty. 

2.  The  above  are  the  so-called  Ta-sze,  or  '  Great 
Sacrifices.'  Next  in  rank  are  those  of  the  second 
category,  the  Chung-sze,  or  'Middle  Sacrifices.' 
These  are  presented  at  various  altars  or  temples 
erected  in  or  about  Peking.  The  Sun-god  has  his 
large  walled  park,  with  round,  open  altar- terrace, 
outside  the  main  east  gate,  to  the  region  of  sun- 
rise ;  the  Moon-goddess  has  her  square  altar 
outside  the  west  gate,  because  the  west  is  the 
region  in  which  the  new  moon  is  born.  Sacrifices 
are  offered  there  to  the  sun  by  the  Emperor  or  his 
proxy,  at  the  astronomical  mid-spring,  when  the 
sun  conquers  darkness  ;  the  Moon  receives  her 
sacrifice  on  the  day  of  mid-autumn, — autumn  being, 
in  China's  natural  philosophy,  associated  with  the 
west,  where  the  new  moonlight  is  born. 

The  other  State-gods  of  this  Middle  Class  are 
the  famous  men  of  fabulous  antiquity  who  intro- 
duced the  Tao,  or  Order  of  the  Universe,  among 
men,  thus  conferring  on  them  the  blessings  of 
civilization,  learning,  and  ethics.  They  may  be 
enumerated  as  follows : — 

(1)  Shen  Nung,  the  'divine  husbandman,'  the 
Emperor  (28th  cent.  B.C.)  who  taught  people 
husbandry.  He  is  worshipped  by  the  Emperor, 
or  his  proxy,  with  a  sacrifice  on  an  auspicious  day 
in  the  second  month  of  the  spring,  when  the  works 
of  husbandry  are  supposed  to  begin,  this  rite  being 
performed  on  an  open  square  altar  in  a  walled  park, 
situated  west  of  the  great  Altar  of  Heaven. 

(2)  Sien-ts'an,  or  '  the  first  breeder  of  silkworms,' 
supposed  to  have  been  the  wife  of  the  Emperor 
Hwang  (27th  cent.  B.C.).  In  the  first  month  of 
spring,  the  Empress,  followed  by  a  great  train  of 
court-ladies,  presents  a  sacrifice  to  her  on  an  altar 
in  the  park  of  the  Palace. 

(3)  188  Imperial  and  princely  rulers  of  the  past. 
The  five  Emperors  of  the  oldest  mythical  period 
receive  special  sacrificial  worship  in  a  temple  in  the 
Palace,  viz.  Fuh  Hi,  Shen  Nung,  Hwang-ti,  Yao, 
and  Shun,  together  with  the  founders  of  the  house 
of  Cheu,  and  Confucius. 

(4)  Confucius.  He  is  worshipped  together  with 
his  nearest  ancestors,  and  over  seventy  earlier  and 
later  exponents  of  his  doctrine  and  school,  all  of 
whom  have  tablets  in  his  temples  throughout  the 
Empire. 

(5)  State  deities  also  are  the  men  and  women 
who,  in  the  course  of  the  centuries,  have  been  dis- 
tinguished for  Confucian  virtue  and  learning.  Four 
temples  are  built  for  them  near  every  Confucius 
temple. 

(6)  The  Tien  Shen,  or  '  deities  of  the  sky,'  that 
is  to  say,  of  the  clouds,  the  rain,  the  wind,  and 
thunder. 

(7)  The  Ti-hi,  or  '  earth-^ods,'  are  the  ten  princi- 
pal mountains  of  the  Empire,  besides  five  hills 
and  ranges  of  hills  which  dominate  the  site  of  the 


mausolea  of  the  present  dynasty  ;  further,  the  foul 
seas  or  oceans  at  the  four  sides  of  the  Empire  or  of 
the  earth,  and  the  four  main  rivers  of  China,  viz. 
the  Hwang-ho,  the  Yang-tze,  the  Hwai,  and  the 
Tsi ;  and,  finally,  the  mountains  and  streams  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Peking,  and  various  others  within 
the  Empire. 

(8)  Next  comes  Tai-sui,  or  '  the  Great  Year,' 
the  planet  Jupiter,  whose  path  in  the  heavens 
governs  the  arrangement  of  the  almanac  which  is 
annually  published  by  Imperial  authority,  and 
gives  the  various  days  considered  suitable  for 
the  transaction  of  the  various  business  of  life. 
This  god  thus  rules  the  Tao,  or  revolution  of  the 
Universe,  and  consequently  the  Tao  of  human  life, 
which,  in  order  to  bestow  happiness  and  prosperity, 
must  fit  in  with  the  Universal  Tao,  or  course  of 
Time. 

3.  The  third  section  of  the  Confucian  State  religion 
embraces  the  Kiiin-sze,  or  '  Collective  Sacrifices.' 
These  are  all  offered  by  mandarins  to  the  gods  in 
the  following  lists:  (1)  the  Sien-i,  or  'physicians 
of  the  past,'  patriarchs  of  the  art  of  promoting  and 
preserving  human  health :  Fuh  Hi,  Shen  Nung, 
and  Hwang-ti ;  (2)  Kwan-yu,  the  war-god  of  the 
present  dynasty,  a  great  hero  of  the  2nd  and  3rd 
cents.  A.D.  ;  i(3)  Wen-ch'ang,  a  star  in  the  Great 
Bear,  the  patron  of  the  classical  studies  on  which 
is  based  the  selection  of  State  officials,  who  by 
their  rule  maintain  the  Tao  among  men  ;  (4)  Peh- 
kih  kiiin,  '  the  ruler  of  the  north  pole ' ;  (5)  Hwo 
shen,  '  the  god  of  fire' ;  (6)  P'ao-shen,  '  the  cannon- 
gods ';  (7)  Ch'ing-hwang  shen,  'gods  of  the  walls 
and  moats,'  that  is  to  say,  the  patron  divinities  of 
walled  cities  and  forts  throughout  the  Empire ;  (8) 
Tung-yoh  shen,  the  '  god  of  the  Eastern  Mountain,' 
i.e.  the  Thaishan  in  Shan-tung  ;  (9)  four  Lung,  or 
dragons,  gods  of  water  and  rain,  for  whom  temples 
exist  in  the  environs  of  Peking,  apparently  for  the 
management  and  regulation  of  the  fung-shui  of 
the  city  and  the  Imperial  palace ;  (10)  Ma  Tsu-p'o, 
the  goddess  of  the  ocean  and  water;  (11)  Hu-t'u- 
shen,  or  '  god  of  the  ground ' ;  and  Sze-kung  shen, 
the  patron  of  architecture,  to  each  of  whom,  before 
any  building  works  are  undertaken,  sacrifices  are 
offered  on  altars  erected  on  the  site  of  the  build- 
ing; (12)  Yao  shen,  'the  gods  of  the  porcelain 
kilns'  ;  (13)  Men  shen,  the  gods  of  certain  Palace 
doors  and  gates  of  Peking;  and  (14)  Ts'ang-shen, 
'  the  gods  of  the  store-houses '  of  Peking  and  Tung- 
chow. 

Many  of  these  State  sacrifices  are  also  offered  by 
the  authorities  throughout  the  provinces,  on  altars 
or  in  temples  which  have  been  "built  for  this  purpose 
in  the  chief  city  of  each  province,  department,  or 
district — namely,  those  of  the  gods  of  the  ground 
and  of  millet ;  those  of  Shen  Nung,  Confucius, 
and  the  gods  of  clouds,  rain,  wind,  and  thunder  ; 
those  of  the  mountains  and  rivers  in  the  country ; 
those  of  the  walls  and  moats  of  the  city  ;  and  those 
of  Kwan-yii.  In  Peking,  as  in  the  provinces,  there 
are,  moreover,  temples,  built  with  the  same  official 
design,  for  a  great  number  of  historical  persons 
who  have  rendered  services  to  the  dynasties  and 
the  people.  They  have,  on  that  account,  received 
titles  of  honour  from  the  Emperors,  and  have 
their  special  temples  in  the  places  where  they  lived 
and  worked.  There  are  also  similar  temples  for 
former  wise  and  faithful  princes,  nobles,  and  states- 
men ;  for  men  who  have  sacrificed  their  lives  in 
the  service  of  the  dynasty,  etc. 

4.  Lastly,  three  sacrifices  are  prescribed  to  be 
offered  annually  by  the  authorities  all  through  the 
Empire  for  the  repose  and  refreshment  of  the  souls 
of  the  departed  in  general. 

All  the  State  sacrifices  take  place  either  on 
certain  fixed  days  of  the  calendar,  or  on  days 
which  are  indicated  as  favourable  and  felicitous. 


CONFUCIAN  RELIGION 


la 


This  synopsis  of  the  State  pantheon  shows  that 
the  Confucian  religion  is  a  mixture  of  Nature- 
worship  and  worship  of  the  dead.  It  is  the  rule 
to  represent  the  gods  who  are  believed  to  have 
lived  as  men,  by  images  in  human  form,  and  the 
others  by  tablets  inscribed  with  their  principal 
divine  titles.  Images  as  well  as  tablets  are  in- 
habited by  the  spirits,  especially  when,  at  sacrifices, 
these  have  been  formally  prayed  to  or  summoned, 
with  or  without  music,  to  descend  into  those 
objects.  Confucian  worship  and  sacrifice,  then, 
being  actually  addressed  to  animate  images,  is 
idolatry.  Certainly  it  is  quite  inconsistent  with 
the  Chinese  spirit  to  think  of  such  tablets  and 
images  as  mere  wood  and  paint. 

The  religion  of  the  State,  performed  by  the  Son 
of  Heaven  as  high  priest,  and  by  ministers  and 
mandarins  all  through  the  Empire  as  his  proxies, 
is  thoroughly  ritualistic.  Since,  during  the  Han 
dynasty,  under  the  auspices  of  Emperors  and  by 
the  care  of  illustrious  scholars,  the  classics  were 
rescued  from  oblivion,  an  elaborate  ritual,  based 
on  those  classics,  was  at  the  same  time  called  into 
existence  in  the  form  of  rescripts,  regulating  in 
minutest  detail  every  point  in  the  State  religion. 
Subsequent  dynasties  framed  their  institutions  in 
general,  and  their  ritual  of  the  State  religion  in 
particular,  on  those  of  the  House  of  Han,  though 
with  modifications  and  additions  of  more  or  less 
importance.  Instances  of  eminent  statesmen  pre- 
senting memorials  to  the  throne,  in  which  they 
criticized  rituals  and  proposed  corrections,  abound 
in  the  historical  works  ;  and  these  instances  prove 
that  formal  codifications  of  rites  have  always  been 
in  existence  since  the  reign  of  the  House  of 
Han. 

These  codifications  have  for  the  most  part  been 
preserved  in  the  dynastic  Histories,  but  it  is  not 
possible  now  to  decide  whether  they  are  given  in 
their  entirety  or  in  an  abridged  shape.  None  of 
them  equals  in  elaboration  that  of  the  Khai-yuen 
period  (713-741).  This  vast  compendium  of  statu- 
tory rites  of  the  T'ang  dynasty  is  a  systematic 
compilation  of  nearly  all  the  ceremonial  usages 
mentioned  in  the  classical  books,  with  a  few 
additional  elements  borrowed  from  the  House  of 
Han.  It  was  drawn  up  by  the  statesman  Siao 
Sung,  assisted,  as  we  may  admit,  by  a  body  of 
officials  and  scholars,  and  it  has  been  the  medium 
through  which  the  most  ancient  religious  institu- 
tions of  China  have  held  their  place  as  standard- 
rites  of  the  State  religion  to  this  day.  The  Ta 
Ts'ing  hwui  tien,  or  Collective  Statutes  of  the 
Great  House  of  Ts'ing,  are  moulded  on  it.  It  is 
also  the  prototype  of  the  Ta  Ts'ing  t'ung  li,  or 
General  Rituals  of  the  Great  Ts'ing  dynasty,  which 
is  an  official  codification  of  the  rites  proper  for  the 
use  of  the  nation  and  its  rulers.  Therefore,  whoever 
is  able  to  read  and  interpret  Chinese  texts  has  it 
in  his  power  to  study  and  describe  in  its  details 
the  State  religion  from  official  printed  docu- 
ments. 

The  conclusion  is,  of  course,  ready  to  hand,  that 
the  State  religion  is  instituted  for  no  other  purpose 
than  to  influence  the  Universe  by  the  worship  of 
gods  who  constitute  the  Yang,  in  order  that  happi- 
ness may  be  ensured  to  the  Emperor  and  his  house 
and  to  his  people.  It  is,  in  other  words,  a  religion 
purporting  to  secure  the  good  working  of  the  Tao, 
or  Universal  Order,  thus  naturally  to  frustrate  the 
work  of  the  Yin  and  its  spectres.  Thus  the  exercise 
of  that  religion  is  reasonably  the  highest  duty  of 
rulers,  whom  that  Tao  has  assigned  to  secure  that 
good  working  among  men.  The  people  are  not 
allowed  to  take  part  in  it,  except  by  erecting  the 
State  temples  and  altars,  and  keeping  them  in  good 
repair  at  their  own  cost  and  by  their  own  labour. 
The  only  religion  allowed  to  them  by  the  State  is 


the  worship  of  their  own  ancestors,  which  is 
classical  and  therefore  Confucian. 

Yet,  as  everywhere  in  the  world,  religious  in- 
stincts in  China  go  their  own  way,  in  spite  of 
official  rescripts.  Not  content  with  the  worship 
of  their  ancestors,  the  people  freely  indulge  in  the 
worship  of  Confucian  deities.  In  villages  and  in 
other  localities  they  have  temples  for  the  worship 
of  mountains,  streams,  rocks,  and  the  like.  The 
god  of  the  earth  in  particular  enjoys  much  venera- 
tion ;  in  all  quarters  the  people  have  erected 
temples  or  chapels  and  shrines  to  him  ;  they  regard 
and  worship  him  as  the  god  of  wealth,  and  the 
patron  divinity  of  agriculture.  And  everywhere 
the  people  resort  to  certain  State  temples  in  the 
chief  towns  of  provinces,  departments,  and  districts, 
and  worship  the  idols  there  after  their  own  fashion. 

This  popular  worship  of  Confucian  divinities 
being  practised  all  through  the  Empire,  the  images 
of  gods  exist  by  tens  of  thousands,  the  temples  by 
thousands.  Almost  every  temple  has  its  idol  gods 
which  are  co-ordinate  or  subordinate  in  rank  to 
the  chief  god,  so  that  China  fully  deserves  to  be 
called  the  most  idolatrous  country,  in  the  world. 
This  religion  is  also  practised  in  private  houses, 
many  of  which  haye  altars  for  gods  and  goddesses, 
to  whom,  on  fixed  days,  sacrifices  are  annually  pre- 
sented. 

The  worship  of  ancestors  is  mentioned  in  the 
ancient  classics  so  often,  and  in  such  detail,  that 
we  cannot  doubt  it  was  also  the  core  of  the 
ancient  religion.  It  has  assumed  the  form  of  a 
most  elaborate  system  of  disposal  of  the  dead. 
Washing  and  dressing  of  corpses,  coffining  and 
burial,  and  grave-building  are  matters  of  the 
greatest  solicitude.  The  erection  of  large  tumuli 
for  princes  and  nobles  was  always  the  rule  in 
China,  and  the  mausolea  built  for  emperors  and 
princes  were  magnificent  structures.  Those  of  the 
present  ruling  dynasty  certainly  belong  to  the 
greatest  and  grandest  which  the  hand  of  man  ever 
produced. 

The  ancestral  cult  is  regulated  in  the  State  ritual 
by  special  rescripts  for  all  classes  of  the  Chinese 
people.  Many  a  well-to-do  family  possesses  its 
ancestral  temple,  where  the  soul  tablets  of  its  older 
generations  are  preserved,  and  where  sacrifices  are 
offered  to  them.  In  the  dwelling-house  a  part  of 
the  altar  is  set  apart  for  the  worship  of  the  latest 
generations.  A  temple  in  front  of  the  altar  serves 
for  the  offerings,  which  are  presented  by  the  family 
on  various  fixed  days  in  the  calendar,  with  the 
father  or  grandfather  at  their  head.  Besides,  there 
is  an  altar  on  each  grave,  which  has  been  built  with 
some  outlay,  and  the  mausolea  of  the  great  of  this 
earth  have  even  a  temple,  containing  an  altar  with 
the  tablet  of  the  soul  which  rests  with  the  body  in 
the  grave.  In  the  first  months  and  years  after  the 
burial,  certain  sacrifices  are  offered  on  the  grave ; 
later  on  there  is  one  sacrifice  in  every  year,  in 
spring,  in  the  Ts'ing  ming  season,  reserved  for 
visits  to  the  family  tombs,  and  for  cleaning  and 
repairing  them.  Of  course  the  tombs  are  visited 
on  many  other  occasions  (cf.,  further,  art.  Com- 
munion with  the  Dead  [Chinese]. 

No  doubt  ancestor-worship  has  some  value  as  an 
ethical  element.  The  punishing  hand  of  the  fore- 
fathers is  always  present  on  the  house-altar  and 
in  the  temple  of  the  family,  and  will  deter  many 
a  son  or  daughter  from  evil.  Ancestor-worship 
strengthens  the  ties  of  family  life,  as  it  supplies 
the  descendants  with  a  rallying  point  in  the 
common  ancestral  altar.  It  thus  fosters  a  spirit 
of  mutual  help  in  the  emergencies  of  life,  and  it  has 
exercised  a  powerful  influence  upon  Chinese  family 
life  and  social  institutions. 

Literature. — See  end  of  next  article. 

J.  .J.  M.  De  Groot. 


16 


CONFUCIUS 


CONFUCIUS. — The  system  which  is  known  in 
the  West  as  Confucianism  is  described  in  China  as 
Jii-kiao,  or  '  School  of  the  Learned,'  and  professes 
to  conserve  the  teachings  of  K'ung  Fu-tsu,  the 
philosopher  Kung,  whose  name  is  familiar  to 
Westerns  under  the  Latinized  form  of  Confucius. 
Jii-kiao  represents  orthodoxy  in  China,  all  other 
systems  being  nominally  heterodox,  though  Taoism 
and  Buddhism  have,  as  a  result  of  long  association, 
been  popularly  admitted  to  a  place  among  the 
'  three  Schools.'  Buddhism  is,  of  course,  exotic  in 
its  origin,  but  Taoism  is  based  upon  the  same 
ancient  materials  as  Confucius  requisitioned.  Lao- 
tse,  or  Laocius,  to  whom  is  attributed  the  system 
known  as  Tao-kiao,  or  '  School  of  the  Way,' 
commonly  known  as  'Taoism,'  was  a  strenuous 
reformer,  who  boldly  applied  the  teachings  which 
he  discovered  in  the  ancient  Chinese  records  to 
the  amelioration  of  existing  conditions,  making 
non-interference  and  the  suppression  of  personal 
ambition  the  keystones  of  his  system.  Confucius 
made  no  profession  of  original  thought,  and  con- 
fessed himself  to  be  but  a  transmitter  of  the 
manners  and  maxims  of  the  '  good  old  times.' 
What  he  attempted  to  do  was  to  apply  to  the 
degenerate  days  in  which  he  lived  the  best  elements 
of  the  accumulated  wisdom  and  experience  of  the 
past,  which  he  found  locked  up  in  the  ancient 
records,  and  reflected  in  the  time-honoured  cere- 
monials. These  he  endeavoured  to  elucidate  and 
emphasize,  not  only  viva  voce  to  the  ardent  dis- 
ciples who  flocked  to  him  from  all  quarters,  and 
to  the  feudal  lords  whom  he  interviewed  in  the 
course  of  his  wanderings  from  State  to  State,  but 
also  by  carefully  prepared  and  annotated  editions 
of  the  early  writings  for  the  benefit  of  posterity. 
His  highest  hope  was  to  lead  the  rulers  of  the 
feudal  kingdoms,  by  easy  stages,  to  the  gentler 
manners  of  the  past,  and  thus  to  initiate  a  reign  of 
peace.  In  order  to  appreciate  the  standpoint  of 
Confucius  and  his  contemporary  Laocius,  it  is 
necessary  that  the  political  circumstances  of  their 
times  should  be  carefully  considered. 

i.  The  times  in  which  Confucius  lived. — The 
Chow  dynasty,  established  by  King  Wu  (1122  B.C.), 
was  in  a  declining  condition  at  the  time  when 
Confucius  was  horn,  and  the  central  authority, 
which  gave  its  name  to  the  Central  State,  or 
'  Middle  Kingdom,'  as  the  Chinese  call  their  Empire 
even  to-day,  was  powerless  to  enforce  its  dicta 
upon  the  turbulent  States  which  were  its  nominal 
vassals.  Constant  war,  with  its  dreadful  con- 
comitants, was  the  'sign  of  the  times.'  The 
soldier  was  in  the  ascendant,  the  schoolmaster 
unemployed.  Agriculture  languished  for  lack  of 
manual  labour,  and  plague,  pestilence,  and  famine 
wrought  untold  horrors  upon  the  feudal  kingdoms. 
In  the  midst  of  scenes  such  as  these  a  son  was  born 
(551  B.C.)  to  an  ancient  officer  of  the  K'ung  family, 
who  had  distinguished  himself  by  commanding 
physique  and  martial  powers  in  the  wars  of  his 
times,  and  who  was  then  living  a  retired  life  in  the 
State  of  Lu,  situated  in  the  modern  province  of 
Shantung.  The  infant  was  given  the  name  of  K'iu 
= '  a  hillock  '  (in  allusion  to  certain  circumstances 
of  his  birth  and  appearance),  with  the  alternative 
Chung-Ni,  or  '  second  Mount  Ni,'  there  being 
another  '  Mount  Ni '  in  the  person  of  an  elder 
step-brother,  the  offspring  of  a  concubine. 

The  life  of  K'ung  K'iu,  or,  as  we  know  him, 
Confucius,  may  be  divided  into  5  periods :  (1) 
551-531,  covering  his  early  boyhood,  his  mar- 
riage at  the  age  of  19,  and  his  appointment  to 
the  office  of  keeper  of  the  State  granaries,  and,  a 
year  later,  to  that  of  guardian  of  the  common 
lands  ;  (2)  530-501,  when  he  devoted  himself  to  the 
work  of  teaching,  and  gradually  collected  around 
him  an  enthusiastic  band  of  disciples,  at  the  same 


time  completing  his  own  education  and  labouring 
at  a  new  edition  of  the  ancient  Odes  and  Historical 
Records ;  (3)  500-496,  when,  for  a  short  period,  he 
acted  as  magistrate  in  his  native  State,  and,  as  a 
result  of  the  signal  success  of  his  methods,  was 
promoted  to  the  office  of  Minister  of  Works,  and, 
subsequently,  to  that  of  Minister  of  Justice,  resign- 
ing his  office  only  when  he  found  his  counsels 
unavailing  to  turn  the  reigning  Duke  from  the 
evil  ways  he  had  adopted  ;  (4)  496-483,  when  he 
wandered  over  a  large  number  of  the  feudal  States, 
vainly  endeavouring  to  induce  their  rulers  to  reform 
their  manners  and  return  to  the  ancient  ways ; 
and  (5)  483-478,  the  last  period  of  his  life,  spent  in 
his  native  State,  during  which  he  devoted  himself 
to  the  completion  of  his  literary  labours  in  con- 
nexion with  the  ancient  records,  and  to  the  produc- 
tion of  his  one  original  work,  the  Ch'un-ts'iu= 
'  Spring  and  Autumn  '  annals. 

2.  The  Confucian  library. — The  materials  upon 
which  the  system  known  as  Confucianism  is  based 
are  to  be  found  in  the  various  King,  or  Canons, 
and  the  Shu,  or  Writings,  which  are  attributed  to 
Confucius  and  his  disciples.  These  have  been 
variously  tabulated  at  different  periods  of  history, 
but  are  nowadays  generally  described  as  the  '  Four 
Shu'  a.nd  the  'FiveiTiM<jr'(see  preceding  art.,  p.  12b). 

3.  The  doctrines  of  Confucius. — When  the 
condition  of  the  feudal  kingdoms  in  Confucius' 
time  is  borne  in  mind,  it  will  be  seen  to  follow 
naturally  that  the  great  object  towards  which  he 
directed  his  efforts  was  the  tranquillizing  of  the 
Empire.  The  possibility  of  effecting  this  aim  he 
demonstrated  in  three  ways  :  (1)  by  his  redactions 
of  the  ancient  historical  records  and  poetry,  show- 
ing, to  the  present  and  to  all  future  ages,  the  method 
by  which  the  great  rulers  of  antiquity,  Yao,  Shun, 
and  others,  had  succeeded  in  controlling  and 
directing  the  '  black-haired  people  ' ;  (2)  by  his 
personal  instructions  and  counsels  to  the  various 
nobles  whom  he  interviewed  in  the  course  of  hi9 
journeyings  through  the  feudal  kingdoms,  and  to 
the  ardent  students  who  delighted  to  sit  at  his 
feet ;  and  (3)  by  his  own  example  in  the  small 
spheres  which  were  entrusted  to  him,  and  where 
his  methods  are  represented  as  being  entirely 
successful.  This,  indeed,  was  the  cardinal  prin- 
ciple which  he  so  frequently  emphasized,  viz. ,  that, 
if  Sage  and  Sovereign  could  be  combined  in  one 
person,  the  difficulties  of  empire  would  disappear. 
The  force  of  example  was  the  great  motive  power 
he  sought  to  apply  to  every  exigency  ;  if  the  lord 
paramount  would  but  imitate  the  ancient  worthies, 
the  various  princes  would  be  excited  to  emulation, 
and  thus,  through  every  grade  of  society,  the 
process  would  be  continued  until  the  whole  nation 
was  reformed.  The  stages  by  which  this  process 
was  to  be  completed  are  thus  described  in  the 
'  Great  Learning '  ['  Great  Study '] : 

'The  ancient3  who  wished  to  illustrate  illustrious  virtue 
throughout  the  Empire  first  ordered  well  their  own  States. 
Wishing  to  order  well  their  own  States,  they  first  regulated  their 
families.  Wishing  to  regulate  their  families,  they  first  cultivated 
their  persons.  Wishing  to  cultivate  their  persons,  they  first 
rectified  their  hearts.  Wishing  to  rectify  their  hearts,  theyfirBt 
sought  to  be  sincere  in  their  thoughts.  "Wishing  to  be  sincere 
in  their  thoughts,  they  first  extended  to  the  utmost  their 
knowledge.  Such  extension  of  knowledge  lay  in  the  investiga- 
tion of  things.  Things  being  investigated,  knowledge  became 
complete.  Their  knowledge  being  complete,  their  thoughts 
were  sincere.  Their  thoughts  being  sincere,  their  hearts  were 
thus  rectified.  Their  hearts  being  rectified,  their  persons  were 
cultivated.  Their  persons  being  cultivated,  their  families  were 
regulated.  Their  families  being  regulated,  their  States  were 
rightly  governed.  Their  States  being  rightly  governed,  the 
whole  Empire  was  made  tranquil  and  happy.' 

As  to  extraneous  aids  to  the  effecting  of  this 
purpose,  Confucius  could  only  propose  the  illus- 
trious examples  of  antiquity,  which  he  delighted 
in  discovering  and  popularizing  ;  he  could  promise 
no  assistance  from  above.     Heaven  might  commis- 


CONFUCIUS 


sion  men  to  perform  certain  tasks,  and  protect 
them  whilst  in  the  execution  of  them,  but,  for  the 
carrying  out  of  those  commissions,  man  must 
depend  upon  his  own  unaided  abilities,  upon  that 
'nature,'  predisposed  towards  goodness,  which 
Heaven  had  conferred  on  him,  and  to  which  he 
himself  must  allow  its  full  development,  in  har- 
mony with  the  observed  course  of  Nature  and  the 
examples  of  the  great  sages  of  the  past.  The  gifts 
of  nature  vary  in  different  individuals.  There  are 
four  great  classes  of  mankind :  (1)  those  who 
possess  intuitive  knowledge  ;  (2)  those  whose 
natural  abilities  enable  them  to  learn  with  ease ; 
(3)  those  who,  though  naturally  dull,  are  able  by 
earnest  application  to  become  learned  ;  and  (4) 
those  who  decline  the  attempt  to  acquire  know- 
ledge because  of  natural  incapacity  and  indifference. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  the  diversities  of  natural  gifts,  it 
is  possible  for  every  man,  by  means  of  self -culture, 
to  reach  the  highestdevelopmentof  which  his  nature 
is  capable  ;  and  nothing  less  than  this  should  satisfy 
the  aspirant.  '  Rest  in  the  highest,'  or  '  Cease  only 
when  the  acme  is  reached,'  is  the  key-note  of  the 
'  Great  Learning. '  Confucius  himself  aimed  high  ; 
he  did  not  expend  his  strength  in  the  interests  of 
common  men,  but  concentrated  his  efforts  on  the 
education  of  rulers,  either  those  who  were  already 
in  office  or  those  who  were  likely  to  attain  to 
power,  believing  that,  if  he  should  succeed  in  im- 
planting his  opinions  amongst  the  highest  classes, 
the  regeneration  of  the  masses  would  follow  as  a 
matter  of  course. 

There  is  practically  nothing  of  a  religious  nature 
in  Confucianism  pure  and  simple.  Religion,  in  the 
strict  sense,  existed  in  China  long  before  his  day, 
and  survives  even  to  the  present  in  the  sacrifice  to 
Shang-ti,  described  on  p.  13,  which  the  Emperor 
offers  as  the  representative  of  the  myriad  people. 
Confucius  seems  to  have  directed  all  his  energies  to 
the  promotion  of  self -culture,  adopting  an  attitude 
of  strict  reserve  on  the  question  of  religion.  He 
certainly  countenanced  the  religious  observances 
of  his  time  so  far  as  they  were  consonant  with  the 
ancient  rites,  and  did  not  openly  rebuke  the  ex- 
travagances which  existed,  as,  for  instance,  the 
burial  alive  of  human  victims,  which  was  not 
unknown  in  his  day.  Perhaps  in  this  matter  he 
was  guided  by  a  principle  which  he  enunciated, 
viz.,  '  When  good  government  prevails  in  a  State, 
language  may  be  lofty  and  bold,  and  actions  the 
same.  When  bad  government  prevails,  the  actions 
may  be  lofty  and  bold,  but  the  language  may  be 
with  some  reserve.'  It  may  be  that  he  had  but 
little  sympathy  with  the  religious  decadence  of  his 
own  times  and  the  abuses  which  were  then  pre- 
valent, but  he  evidently  considered  it  no  part  of 
his  mission  to  attack  them  in  any  iconoclastic 
spirit,  and  he  preferred"  to  adopt  an  attitude  of 
strict  reticence  towards  the  question  of  religion, 
recommending  the  observance  of  the  accustomed 
ritual,  but  deprecating  a  too  close  inquiry  into  the 
spiritual  phenomena.  He  evidently  regarded  the 
offering  of  sacrifice  as  of  great  subjective  value, 
but  professed  ignorance  of  the  meaning  of  the 
great  sacrifice  to  Shang-ti.  He  certainly  added 
nothing  to  the  contemporary  knowledge  of  God  or 
of  spirits  ;  he  had  nothing  to  say  with  regard  to 
death  or  the  hereafter  ;  the  '  present  distress '  was 
a  sufficient  occasion  for  the  exercise  of  his  dis- 
ciplinary methods  ;  the  present  life  was  the  only 
theatre  in  which  he  sought  to  inspire  men  to  act 
their  part.  The  existence  of  the  Empire  was  im- 
perilled through  the  unceasing  struggles  of  the 
feudal  States,  and  his  great  endeavour  was  to  induce 
their  several  rulers  to  suppress  their  overweening 
ambitions,  and  to  cultivate  that  moderation,  that 
harmonious  balance,  which  is  emphasized  in  the 
•  Doctrine  of    the    Mean '  ;    so  that    the  various 

VOL.  IV. — 2 


parts  of  the  social  organism  might  work  together 
smoothly  and  with  mutual  profit,  like  a  perfectly 
fitted  and  well-oiled  machine,  each  State  furnishing 
its  quota  of  Imperial  service,  each  ruler  and  officer 
occupying  his  appointed  place,  and  all  friction 
being  avoided,  so  that  the  Middle  Kingdom  might 
become  once  more  a  model  to  the  barbarians  on 
its  frontiers,  and  a  power  which  no  alien  combina- 
tion might  venture  to  impugn. 

Confucius  was,  above  all  things,  a  political 
reformer,  but  one  who  founded  his  political  prin- 
ciples upon  moral  bases.  He  wished  the  harmony 
of  Nature  to  be  reflected  in  the  world  of  men,  and 
hence  the  very  first  essential  in  his  system  was  the 
cultivation  of  knowledge,  especially  natural  science. 
But,  by  a  strange  irony  of  fate,  the  chapter  of  the 
'  Great  Learning '  which  was  supposed  to  deal  with 
this  fundamental  question  has  been  lost,  and  what 
remains  is  occupied  with  the  lesser  details  which 
appear  as  branches  detached  from  the  tree.  The 
abortive  attempts  of  later  philosophers  to  deal  with 
the  phenomena  of  Nature  are  described  in  art. 
Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Chinese). 

The  steps  in  the  process  of  self-culture  have 
already  been  enumerated  ;  the  completion  of  know- 
ledge leads  to  sincerity  in  thought,  for  the  reason 
that  the  scholar  who  has  thus  attained  enlighten- 
ment can  no  longer  be  deceived  by  outward 
appearances  or  inward  imaginings.  Being  thus 
freed  from  the  deceptive  influences  of  passion, 
emotion,  fear,  etc.,  he  is  able  to  rectify  his  heart, 
i.e.  to  restrain  wayward  thoughts,  feelings,  and 
tendencies  ;  as  a  consequence,  his  outward  actions 
are  conformed  to  the  highest  ideals  of  propriety, 
i.e.  the  cultivation  of  the  person  ;  and,  from  this 
point,  he  becomes  a  centre  of  influence  which 
extends  to  his  family,  his  State,  etc.,  so  that  the 
whole  Empire  is  made  tranquil  and  happy. 

This  may  he  said  to  be  the  Confucian  gospel  in  a 
word,  and  it  will  be  evident  that  it  is  based  upon 
the  conviction  that  man's  nature  is  originally 
good,  and  merely  requires  cultivation  on  right 
lines  to  bring  it  to  its  highest  perfection.  Con- 
fucius admitted  that  '  by  nature  men  are  nearly 
alike  ;  by  practice  they  get  to  be  wide  apart.'  It 
follows,  therefore,  that  what  is  prescribed  for 
rulers  should  also  apply,  in  a  measure,  to  the  mass 
of  the  people  ;  they  may  not  have  the  opportunity 
of  pursuing  their  studies  to  the  same  degree,  but  all 
must  share  in  the  process  of  self-culture,  and  thus 
bear  a  part  in  the  tranquillizing  of  the  Empire, 
which  is  to  be  brought  about  by  the  regulation  of 
the  individual  State,  family,  and  person. 

In  the  family  and  social  relations  the  recognition 
of  a  common  brotherhood  is  to  be  the  inspiration 
and  obligation  of  all  corporate  life.  '  Within  the 
four  seas  all  are  brethren,'  and  this  is  the  idea 
which  underlies  (1)  the  principle  of  '  Benevolence,' 
which  is  the  first  of  the  five  cardinal  virtues. 
Upon  this  follow  :  (2)  '  Uprightness  of  Mind,'  i.e. 
the  exhibition  of  moral  excellence,  as  the  word 
seems  to  denote  ;  (3)  '  Propriety  in  Demeanour,' 
the  observance  of  convention,  including  the  ortho- 
doxies of  religious  worship,  etc.  ;  (4)  '  Practical 
Sagacity,'  or  '  Knowledge  of  Affairs '  ;  and  (5) 
'  Good  Faith.'  The  whole  may  be  combined  in  the 
word  which  may  serve  as  a  rule  of  life — Reciprocity 
or  Considerateness,  i.e.  '  What  you  do  not  want 
done  to  yourself,  do  not  do  to  others.'  These  were 
to  be  regarded  as  the  special  characteristics  of 
rulers  ;  but  the  five  cardinal  relations,  upon  which 
the  whole  social  structure  is  based,  were  required 
of  all  classes,  and  were  defined  as  those  existing 
between  sovereign  and  subject,  father  and  son, 
elder  brother  and  younger,  husband  and  wife, 
friend  and  friend.  Filial  conduct  and  its  correlate 
of  fraternal  subordination  may  be  described  as  the 
corner-stones  of  the  system,  for  upon  them  depend 


18 


CONFUCIUS 


not  only  self -culture,  but  also  the  regulation  of  the 
family  and  the  government  of  the  State.  It  may 
have  been  for  this  reason  that  Confucius  was  will- 
ing to  overlook  the  extravagant  attention  paid  to 
ancestor-worship,  because  it  served  to  emphasize 
his  own  doctrines  of  Divine  right  and  the  para- 
mount importance  of  acquiescence  in  the  prevailing 
order.  He  anticipates  St.  Paul  in  saying,  '  Let 
every  soul  be  in  subjection  to  the  higher  powers 
.  .  .  the  powers  that  be  are  ordained  of  God ' 
(Ro  131).  The  appointment  of  a  new  ruler  is 
described  as  the  '  receiving  of  Heaven's  decree '  ; 
every  subject  of  the  State  must,  therefore,  accept 
his  ordered  place,  and  every  member  of  the  family, 
in  like  manner,  must  fulfil  his  part  with  loyal 
submission.  There  must  be  '  no  contrariety '  in 
the  home  or  in  the  State  ;  no  trespass  beyond  the 
appointed  limits,  no  disruption  of  the  social  har- 
monies. This  is  the  teaching  of  the  '  Doctrine  of 
the  Mean,'  which  follows  on  the  '  Great  Learning ' ; 
i.e.  the  avoidance  of  all  eccentricity,  or  departure 
from  the  normal  course  as  exemplified  in  Nature. 
Equilibrium  and  Harmony  are  the  two  essentials 
to  happy  social  relations  and  a  contented  empire, 
Equilibrium  being  the  negative  side  when  the 
mind  is  not  aroused  by  feeling  or  emotion,  and 
Harmony  the  positive  side  when  feeling  is  excited 
but  acts  in  due  accord  with  its  environment. 

Amongst  the  factors  which  conduce  towards 
correctness  of  conduct  are  included  Poetry,  which 
inspires  to  the  attempting  of  noble  deeds ;  Cere- 
monials, by  which  the  habit  of  correct  action  is 
established ;  Music,  which,  if  orthodox,  produces 
an  atmosphere  congenial  to  the  cultivation  of 
virtue,  and  gives  a  finish  to  character ;  and  Archery, 
which  is  recommended  as  exercising  a  moral  dis- 
cipline. 

From  the  above  it  may  be  seen  how  little  of  a 
transcendental  character  there  is  in  the  teachings 
of  Confucius.  The  process  of  self-culture  must 
proceed  independently  of  any  spiritual  aid,  except 
in  so  far  as  the  conventional  rites  of  sacrifice  may 
be  considered  as  of  such  a  nature — a  supposition 
which  appears  to  be  negatived  by  the  fact  that  to 
Confucius  they  were  evidently  of  little  objective 
value. 

The  doctrines  thus  enumerated  find  illustration 
in  the  Analects,  or  Counsels,  of  Confucius — a  col- 
lection of  acts  and  sayings  attributed  to  him  by 
his  immediate  disciples  ;  and  they  are  represented 
in  concrete  form  in  the  person  of  the  '  princely 
man,'  or  ideal  scholar,  who  is  constantly  held  up 
as  a  standard  of  imitation,  and  a  criterion  of  con- 
duct— an  ideal  which,  by  the  way,  Confucius 
himself  disclaimed  having  attained. 

The  principles  of  Confucius  found  further  exposi- 
tion in  the  writings  of  Mencius  (Meng  k'o,  372-289 
B.C.),  who  is  accorded  the  title  of  'Second  Sage,' 
or  the  next  in  order  of  dignity  to  Confucius 
himself.  The  work  which  bears  his  name  enlarges 
on  the  topics  of  Benevolence  and  Righteousness, 
which  formed  the  subject  of  his  discussions  with 
the  rulers  of  the  several  States  he  visited  and  the 
disciples  he  gathered.  But  the  most  popular  ex- 
ponent of  Confucianism  was  Chu  Hsi,  or  Chucius 
(A.D.  1130-1200),  whose  commentaries  on  the  classi- 
cal books  are  now  generally  accepted  as  the  highest 
standard  of  orthodoxy.  Like  Confucius,  he  pro- 
ceeds upon  the  assumption  that  human  nature  is 
originally  good,  but  applies  his  speculations  to  the 
hitherto  unsolved  problem  of  the  origin  of  evil. 
So  great  has  been  the  influence  of  Chucius  upon 
modern  thought  in  China,  that '  Chucianism '  might 
be  substituted  for  '  Confucianism '  as  descriptive  of 
the  later  development  of  the  tenets  of  Confucius 
and  his  followers. 

4.  Secret  of  the  success  of  Confucianism.— In 
view   of  what  has  been   stated   above  as  to  the 


absence  of  religious  motive  in  Confucianism,  it 
may  be  asked  how  the  system  which  is  thus 
denominated  attained  its  present  popularity  and 
general  acceptance.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Con- 
fucius utterly  failed  to  convince  his  generation  of 
the  value  of  the  methods  he  so  ardently  advocated. 
Outside  of  the  circle  of  those  who  formed  his  school 
of  disciples  he  appears  to  have  had  few  admirers. 
No  ruler  of  his  day  was  prepared  to  put  his  opinions 
to  the  test ;  only  in  the  small  sphere  which  he 
himself  occupied,  for  a  short  period,  in  his  own 
State  of  Lu,  was  he  able  to  demonstrate  their 
practical  character.  His  personal  influence  over 
his  immediate  followers  must  have  been  immense, 
though  his  family  life  was  unfortunate ;  but,  when 
his  despairing  complaint  of  the  non-appreciation  of 
his  doctrines  and  non-recognition  of  his  character 
had  been  silenced  by  death,  and  after  his  favourite 
disciples  had  passed  away,  it  seemed  as  if  the  very 
memory  of  the  sage  was  about  to  perish.  Many 
years  elapsed  before  any  national  attempt  to  com- 
memorate him  was  initiated,  but  succeeding  ages 
and  dynasties  have  vied  with  one  another  in  elevat- 
ing him  in  the  scale  of  posthumous  dignities,  until, 
at  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  he  was  at 
last  raised  to  the  pre-eminent  position  of  '  Co- 
assessor  with  Heaven  and  Earth.' 

No  doubt  the  intense  patriotism  of  Confucius 
was  a  feature  which  won  the  hearts  of  those  who 
delighted  to  learn  from  him  ;  everything  was  sub- 
ordinated to  the  well-being  of  the  distracted  Empire, 
and  to  this  end  he  was  prepared  to  sacrifice  his 
personal  ambitions,  and  to  subject  himself  to 
ignominy  and  even  physical  danger.  His  doctrine 
of  the  Divine  right  of  virtuous  sovereigns,  even 
though  usurpers,  was  entirely  congenial  to  the 
founders  of  later  dynasties,  such  as  the  Han  line  of 
rulers,  who  were  anxious  to  conciliate  the  student 
classes  that  had  suffered  so  severely  under  the 
regime  of  the  short-lived  Ts'ing  dynasty,  and  who 
sought  to  find  justification  for  their  claim  to  the 
supreme  authority  in  the  literature  which  their 
predecessors  so  greatly  feared.  The  masses  were 
well  content  with  the  abolition  of  the  severe 
measures  with  which  the  first  Empire  (the  Ts'ing) 
had  familiarized  them,  and  were  prepared  to  accept 
the  new  conditions.  Hence  it  was  the  policy  of 
the  new  rulers  and  the  scholars  to  come  to  an 
understanding,  and  an  active  endeavour  was  made 
to  restore  the  Confucian  literature  which  survived 
the  fires  of  Ts'ing,  for  such  writings  were  now 
almost  the  sole  survivors  of  the  ancient  records, 
and  were  regarded  with  a  new  interest  and  an 
ever  growing  veneration.  The  course  of  time 
served  only  to  deepen  the  impression,  though  Con- 
fucianism did  not  succeed  in  obtaining  exclusive 
recognition  until  long  ages  of  conflict  with  Taoism 
and  Buddhism  had  passed.  The  masses,  too,  were 
predisposed  in  favour  of  the  Confucian  system,  not 
only  because  of  its  intrinsic  excellence,  but  because 
it  advocated  the  rights  of  the  people,  and  aimed  at 
individual  happiness  as  well  as  at  the  larger  issue 
of  national  tranquillity.  Hence  it  was  to  the 
interest  of  all  classes — the  newly  established  rulers, 
the  scholarly  classes,  and  the  majority  of  the 
people — that  the  system  of  Confucius  should  be 
accepted  as  a  moral  code,  even  though  the  feudal 
conditions  to  which  it  owed  its  birth,  and  for  the 
amelioration  of  which  it  had  been  designed,  had 
long  passed  away.  The  establishment  of  the 
Hanlin  academy  and  of  the  system  of  literary 
examinations,  daring  the  T'ang  dynasty  (A.D.  755), 
had  the  effect  of  encouraging  the  study  of  the 
Confucian  classics  amongst  all  sections  of  society, 
since  a  complete  knowledge  of  the  text  was  required 
by  those  who  presented  themselves  for  examination 
with  a  view  to  official  employment. 

5.    Defects    of   Confucianism. — The  failure  of 


CONGREGATIONALISM 


19 


Confucianism  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  man's 
spiritual  nature,  its  attitude  of  reserve  on  ques- 
tions affecting  the  unseen  world,  its  silence  with 
regard  to  sin  and  its  remedy,  and  its  equivocal 
references  to  the  possibility  and  value  of  prayer — 
all  these  have  had  the  effect  of  paving  the  way  for 
the  introduction  of  Buddhism,  with  its  doctrines  of 
an  All-merciful  One,  its  spiritual  aids  and  con- 
solations, its  plans  of  salvation  and  theory  of 
a  '  Western  Paradise,'  and  its  recognition  of 
woman's  place  in  its  propaganda  (cf.  art.  China 
[Buddhism  in]).  Here  also  is  offered  a  field  where 
Christianity,  when  once  relieved  of  the  prejudice 
and  suspicion  which  now  encompass  it,  will  find  a 
place  and  a  welcome,  and  the  true  Sage  whom 
Confucius  dimly  outlined,  the  true  '  Coming  One ' 
of  whom  the  Buddha  prophesied,  will  be  recognized 
in  Jesus  Christ,  in  whom  alone  the  highest  defini- 
tion of  brotherhood  is  exhibited,  and  in  whom 
alone  fatherhood,  in  the  ultimate  sense,  is  pro- 
pounded— the  Fatherhood  of  God,  whose  offspring 
is  not  limited  to  the  confines  of  the  four  seas,  but 
embraces  '  all  nations  of  men '  who  '  dwell  on  all 
the  face  of  the  earth '  (Ac  1726) ;  in  whom  also  is 
found  that  motive  power  which  can  compensate 
for  the  weaknesses  and  disabilities  of  a  corrupted 
human  nature,  and  can  enable  men  to  attain  to  the 
highest  perfection— a  standard  far  transcending 
that  which  Confucius  had  in  mind  when  he  enun- 
ciated his  great  axiom,  '  Rest  in  the  highest 
excellence.'1 

Literature. — G.  G.  Alexander,  Confucius,  London,  1890 ; 
R.  K.  Douglas,  Confucianism  and  Taoism,  London,  1877  ;  E. 
Faber,  Digest  of  the  Doctrines  of  Confucius,  Hongkong,  1S75; 
H.  A.  Giles,  Confucianism,  London,  1901,  also  Religions  of 
Anc.  China,  London,  1906,  and  Confucius  (tr.  of  Sayings  of), 
London,  1907  ;  J.  J.  M.  de  Groot,  Eel.  System  of  China,  Ley- 
den,  1892  ff.,  and  Eel.  d.  Chin.,  Leyden,  1906  (Eng.  tr.  1910) ;  C. 
de  Harlez,  Les  Religions  de  la  Chine,  Paris,  1891 ;  J.  Legge, 
Chinese  Classics,  London,  1861,  i.  66-129,  also  The  Religions  of 
China,  London,  1880 ;  A.  Loomis,  Confucius  and  the  Chinese 
Classics,  San  Francisco,  1867  ;  W.  F.  Mayers,  Chinese  Reader's 
Manual,  Shanghai,  1874  ;  W.  G.  Old,  The  Classics  of  Confucius, 
Shu  King,  London,  1906  ;  E.  H.  Parker,  China  and  Religion, 
London,  1910 ;  J.  H.  Plath,  Rel.  u.  Kultus  d.  alten  Chinesen, 
Munich,  1862,  also  Confucius  u.  seine  Schuler :  Leben  u.  Lehren, 
Munich,  1869-74 ;  A.  Reville,  La  Rel.  chinoise,  Paris,  1889 ; 
Chantepie  de  la  Saussaye,  Lehrb.  d.  Rel.-gesch.3,  Tubingen, 
1905,  i.  67-91 ;  SBE  iii.  xvi.  xxvii.  xxviii. ;  A.  H.  Smith, 
Chinese  Characteristics,  New  York,  1900 ;  W.  Gilbert  Walshe, 
Confucius  and  Confucianism,  Shanghai,  1910 ;  A.  Wylie,  Notes 
in  Chinese  Literature,  Shanghai,  1867. 

W.  Gilbert  Walshe. 
CONGREGATIONALISM,—!.  The  name.— 
The  term  '  Congregational '  came  into  general  use 
about  the  beginning  of  the  great  Civil  War  in 
England,  and  contemporaneously  in  New  England, 
as  descriptive  of  a  form  of  Church  polity  in  which 
the  local  congregation  is  the  unit  of  organiza- 
tion and  the  source  of  ecclesiastical  government 
{e.g.  Kichard  Mather,  An  Apologie,  London,  1643 
[written  1639],  p.  6,  and  generally  in  the  litera- 
ture of  the  succeeding  years).  From  the  last  de- 
cade of  the  16th  cent,  its  adherents  had  been 
nick-named  '  Brownists,'  from  Robert  Browne  (see 
Beownism).  Against  this  name  they  protested 
(e.g.  A  True  Confession,  Amsterdam,  1596,  title ; 
An  Apologeticall  Narration,  London,  1643,  p.  24). 
They  were  also  called  '  Separatists,'  because  of 
their  withdrawal  from  the  English  Establishment. 
The  title  '  Independency '  was  attached  to  the 
system  at  about  the  same  time  as  that  of  '  Con- 
gregationalism '  (in  1642),  and,  though  an  object 
of  early  protest  (e.g.  An  Apologeticall  Narration, 
p.  23),  long  remained  its  usual  designation  in 
Great  Britain,  though  it  is  now  generally  sup- 
planted by  '  Congregationalism.'  In  America  it 
was  never  in  use.  '  Congregationalist,'  as  a  title 
of  the  adherents  of  the  polity,  is  encountered  in 
1692  (C.  Mather,  Blessed  Unions,  Boston) ;  and 
'  Congregationalism,'  in  1716  (I.  Mather,  Disquisi- 
>  Cf.  .1.  Iverach,  Is  God  KnowabU  t,  1884,  p.  112  f. 


Hon  on  Ecclesiastical  Councils,  Boston,  p.  vi). 
As  a  polity,  Congregationalism  is  much  more 
wide-spread  than  the  Congregational  name.  The 
Baptists,  the  Plymouth  Brethren,  the  Disciples  of 
Christ,  the  Unitarians  of  the  United  States,  as 
well  as  certain  sections  of  the  Adventists  and  of 
the  Lutherans,  are  congregationally  governed.  In 
this  article,  however,  only  that  group  of  Churches 
to  which  the  name  'Congregational'  is  attached 
by  historic,  popular,  and  official  usage,  will  be 
considered. 

2.  Fundamental  principles. — Early  Congrega- 
tionalism was  a  product  of  the  devotion  of  the  Re- 
formation epoch  to  the  Bible.  That  period  exalted 
the  Bible  as  the  only  rule  of  faith  and  practice. 
If  the  Scriptures  teach  fully  all  that  it  is  requisite 
for  men  to  know  or  believe,  and  all  duties  of  the 
Christian  life,  it  was  but  logical  to  raise  the  ques- 
tion whether  they  did  not  also  contain  a  complete 
and  authoritative  guide  as  to  the  nature,  organiza- 
tion, officering  and  administration  of  the  Christian 
Church.  It  was  the  conviction  that  the  Bible  con- 
tains such  a  pattern  that  gave  rise  to  Congre- 
gationalism. 

1  The  partes  of  Church-Government  are  all  of  them  exactly 
described  in  the  word  of  God  .  .  .  soe  that  it  is  not  left  in  the 
power  of  men,  officers,  Churches,  or  any  state  in  the  world  to 
add,  or  diminish,  or  alter  any  thing  in  the  least  measure 
therein '  (Cambridge  Platform,  1648,  ch.  i. ;  see  also  A  True 
Confession,  1596,  of  the  London-Amsterdam  Church,  ch.  xx.). 

Examining  the  Scriptures,  therefore,  in  the  light 
of  the  knowledge  of  their  age,  and  under  a  pro- 
found conviction  of  an  inspiration  which  made 
every  portion  a  word  of  God,  the  Congrega- 
tionalists  of  the  16th  and  17th  cents,  denied  the 
existence  of  national  or  territorial  Churches  ;  and, 
while  holding  that  the  invisible  Church  '  con- 
teyneth  in  it  all  the  Elect  of  God  that  have  bin, 
are,  or  shal  be '  (A  True  Description,  Doit,  1589, 
p.  i),  affirmed  that  none  but  local  associations 
of  experiential  Christians  are  visible  Churches. 
Each  of  these  Churches  has  Christ  as  its  immediate 
and  only  Head.  Each  '  hath  powre  and  com- 
mandement  to  elect  and  ordeine  their  own  minis- 
terie,'  as  well  as  '  to  receive  in  or  to  cut  off  anie 
member'  (A  True  Confession,  chs.  xxiii.  andxxiv.). 
Each  local  church  is  therefore  a  completely  self- 
governing  body. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  early  Congregationalism  felt  a 
mystical  conviction,  not  now  characteristic  of  it,  that  Christ  is 
in  so  real  and  true  a  sense  the  Head  of  each  church  of  His  dis- 
ciples, and  they  are  so  one  with  Him  by  covenant,  that  the 
acts  of  such  a  church,  though  those  of  human  agents,  are  in 
vital  reality  His  acts,  whether  in  the  admittance  of  members, 
the  choice  of  officers,  or  the  administration  of  discipline. 

That  which  distinguishes  between  a  chance  assem- 
blage of  Christian  people  and  a  church  is  that  the 
members  of  the  local  congregation  are  united  into 
church-estate  by  '  a  willing  covenant  made  with 
their  God '  and  with  one  another  (R.  Browne, 
A  Booke  which  sheweth,  Middelburg,  1582,  p.  3). 
'  A  company  becomes  a  Church,  by  joyning  in 
Covenant '  (R.  Mather,  An  Apologie,  p.  5).  Yet 
this  covenant  is  not  necessarily  formal,  though 
it  is  more  desirable  that  it  be  so,  for  '  wee  con- 
ceive the  substance  of  it  is  kept  where  there 
is  a  real  agreement  and  consent  of  a  company 
of  faithful  persons  to  meet  constantly  together 
in  one  congregation  for  the  publick  worship  of 
God  and  their  mutuall  edification  '  (Cambridge 
Platform,  ch.  iv. ).  The  only  fit  persons  to  enter 
into  such  a  covenant,  and  hence  the  only  proper 
church-members,  are  those  of  personal  religious 
experience ;  but,  by  a  comparison  with  the 
Abrahamic  covenant  of  Gn  177,  early  Congrega- 
tionalisms argued  that  the  children  of  such  covenant- 
ing members  were  included  in  the  parents'  covenant 
and  were  themselves  therefore  church  -  members. 
The  status  of  such  children,  when  grown  to 
maturity  and  not  conscious  of  a  personal  religious 


80 


CONGREGATIONALISM 


faith,  was  a  sore  puzzle  to  New  England  Congrega- 
tionalism from  the  middle  of  the  17th  to  the 
end  of  the  18th  cent.,  and  led  to  the  strenuous 
controversies  known  as  the  Half- Way  Covenant 
discussions  ;  but  the  belief  of  Congregationalism 
has  always  been  that  the  true  material  of  church- 
membership  is  to  be  found  only  in  conscious  and 
purposeful  Christian  discipleship. 

Such  a  local  church  as  has  been  described  should 
have  no  officers  but  those  of  NT  example  — 
'pastors,  teachers,  elders,  deacons,  helpers'  (A  True 
Confession,  ch.  xix. ).  The  '  pastor '  '  hath  the 
guift  of  exhorting  and  applying  especiallie '  ; 
the  '  teacher '  that  '  of  teaching  especiallie  '  (K. 
Browne,  A  Booke  which  sheweth,  p.  32).  Both 
preached,  though  the  teacher  gave  special  atten- 
tion to  doctrinal  exposition.  Both  administered 
the  sacraments.  The  '  ruling  elder '  was  a  dis- 
ciplinary officer,  reckoned  to  the  ministry,  whose 
'work  is  to  joyn  with  the  pastor  and  teacher  in 
those  acts  of  spiritual  rule  which  are  distinct  from 
the  ministry  of  the  word  and  sacraments '  ( Cam- 
bridge Platform,  ch.  vii.).  Only  in  the  absence  of 
pastor  and  teacher  could  the  ruling  elder  preach, 
and  in  no  case  could  he  administer  the  sacra- 
ments. All  three  officers,  known  as  '  teaching ' 
and  '  ruling '  elders,  were  chosen  by  the  congrega- 
tion they  served,  and,  in  earliest  Congregational- 
ism, were  ordained  by  representatives  of  the 
congregation.  Ordination,  being  considered  but 
the  recognition  of  a  charge  in  a  particular  church, 
was  to  be  repeated  at  each  fresh  entrance  into 
office.  But  by  the  time  that  the  Cambridge 
Platform  was  adopted,  in  1648,  custom  was  chang- 
ing, and  ordination  was  passing  from  the  member- 
ship of  the  particular  church  to  the  hands  of  those 
already  in  the  ministry.  '  In  such  churches  where 
there  are  no  elders,  and  the  church  so  desire,  wee 
see  not  why  imposition  of  hands  may  not  be  per- 
formed by  the  elders  of  other  churches'  {ib.  ch. 
ix.).  Ordinations  by  the  membership  of  the  local 
church  ceased  soon  after  the  middle  of  the  17th 
century.  Two  other  classes  of  officers  were  recog- 
nized as  to  be  chosen  by  the  church.  Of  these  the 
more  important  were  'deacons,'  whose  work  was 
'  to  receive  the  ofl'rings  of  the  church,  gifts  given 
to  the  church,  and  to  keep  the  treasury  of  the 
church,  and  therewith  to  serve  the  tables  which 
the  church  is  to  provide  for,  as  the  Lord's  table, 
the  table  of  the  ministers,  and  of  such  as  are  in 
necessitie'  (Cambridge  Platform,  ch.  vii.).  Theo- 
retically desirable  were  '  helpers  '  or  '  widows  ' 
'  to  minister  in  the  church  in  giving  attendance 
to  the  sick  '  (ib. ) ;  but,  though  an  instance  or  two 
of  their  appointment  may  be  found  in  early  Eng- 
lish Congregational  practice,  none  held  office  in 
New  England. 

Each  local  church  was  from  the  first  free  to 
express  its  faith  in  its  own  language,  and  to  make 
such  tests  for  admittance  to  its  membership  as  it 
chose.  Congregationalists  from  the  beginning  felt, 
however,  that  churches  had  relations  of  fellowship 
one  with  another,  which  were  generally  pictured 
as  those  of  sisterhood  in  a  common  family  of  God. 

'There  be  synodes  or  meetings  of  sundrie  churches,  which 
are  when  the  weaker  churches  seeke  helpe  of  the  stronger,  for 
deciding  or  redressing  of  matters,  or  else  the  stronger  looke  to 
them  for  redresse '  (R.  Browne,  A  Booke  which  sheweth,  p.  30). 
'  Allthough  churches  be  distinct,  and  therfore  may  not  be 
confounded  one  with  another ;  and  equall,  and  therfore  have 
not  dominion  one  over  another  ;  yet  all  the  churches  ought  to 
preserve  church-communion  one  with  another '  {Cambridge 
Platform,  ch.  xv.). 

The  two  principles  of  local  autonomy  and  fel- 
lowship have  always  been  the  foci  of  Congrega- 
tionalism, and  the  latter  lias  preserved  it  from 
Independency.  The  principle  of  fellowship  gave 
rise  almost  at  the  settlement  of  New  England  to 
the  occasional  council — a  meeting  of  pastors  and 


lay  delegates  from  such  churches  as  the  church 
seeking  advice  chooses  to  summon,  called  to  give 
counsel  in  such  matters  as  the  ordination,  installa- 
tion, and  dismissal  of  ministers,  cases  of  discipline 
beyond  the  power  of  the  local  church  to  control, 
and.  similar  ecclesiastical  exigencies.  Such  councils 
have  always  been  a  feature  of  American  Congre- 
gational practice,  though  not  employed  in  Great 
Britain. 

3.  Present  Congregational  principles  and 
organization. — Early  Congregationalism,  as  thu3 
described,  has  undergone  much  modification  in 
detail,  though  its  essential  features  still  remain 
unaltered.  Modern  Congregationalism,  like  its 
prototype,  still  conceives  of  the  Church  as  a  local 
company  of  experiential  Christians,  autonomous, 
yet  owing  fellowship  to  sister  churches.  But  it 
does  not  find,  as  its  early  leaders  did,  any  hard 
and  fast  pattern  of  the  Church  in  the  Scriptures. 
It  would  emphasize  the  congregational  as  a  de- 
sirable, rather  than  as  the  only  rightful,  polity. 
Congregationalism  sees  the  merits  of  that  polity 
in  its  democracy,  its  voluntaryism,  its  capacity 
to  develop  full,  rounded,  Christian  manhood  and 
womanhood,  its  freedom,  and  its  flexibility.  The 
number  of  officers  supposed  by  early  Congrega- 
tionalism to  be  required  by  Scripture  proved  long 
ago  beyond  the  power  of  a  small  congregation  to 
maintain.  Though  instances  of  the  '  teacher  '  and 
'  ruling  elder '  continued  late  into  the  18th  cent. , 
and  a  single  example  of  the  '  ruling  elder '  may  be 
found  in  the  19th,  most  Congregational  churches, 
on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic,  had  before  the  close 
of  the  17th  cent,  reduced  their  officers  to  a  pastor 
and  several  deacons.  These  are  the  chief  officers 
of  a  Congregational  church  at  the  present  time. 
Of  comparatively  modern  growth  are  such  addi- 
ditional  officers  as  a  superintendent  of  the  Sunday 
School,  a  treasurer,  a  choir-master,  and  the  like. 
Only  the  pastor  is  now  ordinarily  ordained.  In  a 
few  churches  deaconesses  have  been  recently  intro- 
duced, and,  in  most,  several  members  are  chosen, 
usually  annually,  to  serve  with  the  pastor  and 
deacons  as  an  executive  committee  by  which  the 
admittance  of  members  and  other  ecclesiastical 
business  are  primarily  considered,  though  with  ulti- 
mate reference,  on  its  recommendation,  to  the 
whole  body  of  the  church. 

The  larger  fellowship  of  the  churches  is  ex- 
pressed not  only  in  the  occasional  councils,  char- 
acteristic of  the  United  States,  of  which  mention 
has  been  made,  but  in  a  close-knit  network  of 
regularly  recurrent  meetings  in  which  larger  or 
smaller  groups  of  churches  are  represented.  Some 
'  Associations '  came  into  existence  in  Great  Britain 
in  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth,  and  probably 
survived  the  vicissitudes  of  the  Restoration  ;  but, 
beginning  with  that  of  Devonshire,  organized  in 
1785,  county  '  Associations '  spread  rapidly  through 
England.  The  desire  for  a  larger  expression  of 
fellowship  found  embodiment  in  the  additional 
organization  of  a  '  Union '  for  Scotland  in  1812, 
and  for  England  and  Wales  in  1832.  The  latter 
now  meets  twice  a  year.  In  the  United  States, 
the  first  voluntary  ministerial  '  Association '  was 
formed  in  Cambridge,  Mass.,  in  1690.  In  Con- 
necticut, '  Consociations '  of  ministers  and  lay 
delegates  were  organized  in  1709.  The  system  of 
meetings  representative  of  churches  by  pastors 
and  lay  delegates  was  not  generally  introduced, 
however,  till  the  early  years  of  the  19th  century. 
It  is  now  universal  in  American  Congregational- 
ism. A  variety  of  nomenclature  exists,  but  uni- 
formity is  now  being  sought,  so  that  the  local 
groups  into  which  churches  are  confederated  shall 
be  known  as  '  Associations,'  -and  the  larger  State- 
wide organizations  as  '  Conferences.'  After  pre- 
liminary gatherings  representative  of  the  Congre- 


CONGREGATIONALISM 


21 


gationalism  of  the  United  States  as  a  whole,  held 
in  Albany,  N.Y.,  in  1852,  and  in  Boston,  Mass., 
in  1865,  the  '  National  Council  of  the  Congrega- 
tional Churches  of  the  United  States '  was  formed 
in  Oberlin,  Ohio,  in  1S71,  and  has  met  triennially 
since.  Similar  organizations  exist  in  Canada  and 
the  British  colonies.  In  1891,  an  International 
Council,  representative  of  world-wide  Congrega- 
tionalism, met  in  London,  and  subsequent  sessions 
were  held  in  Boston  in  1899,  and  in  Edinburgh  in 
1908. 

None  of  these  representative  bodies,  though 
composed  of  delegates  from  the  churches,  pos- 
sesses judicial  or  legislative  authority.  Their 
action  is  purely  advisory  ;  hut  such  action,  in 
actual  practice,  carries  great  weight.  An  im- 
portant function  discharged  by  the  local  Associa- 
tions in  Great  Britain  and  America  is  that  of 
certification  of  ministerial  good-standing ;  and 
efforts  are  being  made  in  America  to  constitute 
the  local  Association  the  regular  ordaining  body 
instead  of  the  occasional  council. 

4.  Relation  to  the  State. — Original  Congrega- 
tionalism denied  the  existence  of  a  State  Church, 
and  practised  voluntaryism  in  church  maintenance 
and  ministerial  support.  As  a  party  of  protest  it 
could  not  do  otherwise.  At  the  same  time  it  held, 
with  Calvinism  in  general,  that  civil  rulers  ought 
'  to  establish  and  mayntein  by  their  lawes  every 
part  of  God's  word,  his  pure  relligion  and  true 
ministerie'  (A  True  Confession,  ch.  xxxix.).  It 
was  natural,  therefore,  that  wherever  Congre- 
gationalism became  the  dominant  faith,  it  entered 
into  an  intimacy  of  association  with  the  State,  not 
wholly  justified,  perhaps,  by  a  strict  construction 
of  its  principles.  The  political  history  of  England 
afforded  few  such  opportunities.  Under  Cromwell, 
Congregationalists  enjoyed  some  State  patronage  ; 
and,  in  1658,  a  council  of  the  Congregational 
Churches  of  England,  the  '  Savoy  Synod,  met  in 
London  with  Governmental  approval,  though  not 
directly  called  by  the  Government,  its  work  being 
a  revision  of  the  Westminster  Confession  and  a 
statement  ofpolity  From  the  Restoration  to  the 
present  day  Congregationalism  has  not  been  in  a 
position  to  receive  Governmental  support  in  Great 
Britain,  and  therefore  counts  voluntaryism  among 
its  cardinal  principles. 

In  the  New  England  colonies  the  situation  was 
widely  different.  In  Massachusetts  the  political 
franchise  was  from  1631  to  1664  confined  by  law 
to  members  of  Congregational  churches.  In  New 
Haven  Colony  it  was  similarly  restricted  from 
1639  to  1665.  Between  1638  and  1655  all  the 
Congregational  colonies  of  New  England  passed 
statutes  basing  ministerial  support  on  universal 
taxation.  The  colonial  legislatures,  though  main- 
taining the  theory  of  ecclesiastical  autonomy, 
were  really  the  ultimate  bodies  of  appeal  in 
ecclesiastical  controversies.  By  civil  authority 
'  Synods '  were  called,  composed  of  ministers  and 
representatives  of  churches,  to  discuss  doctrinal 
and  administrative  problems  in  1637,  1646,  1662, 
1679, 1708,  and  1741.  The  Congregational  churches 
were  a  real  '  Establishment,'  from  the  support  of 
which  Episcopalians  were  not  relieved  in  Massa- 
chusetts and  Connecticut  till  1727,  and  Baptists 
and  Quakers  not  till  1728  and  1729.  This  con- 
nexion with  the  State  continued  in  Connecticut 
till  1818,  and  in  Massachusetts  till  1834.  Since 
then,  in  America,  Congregationalism  has  had 
purely  voluntary  support ;  but  voluntaryism  has 
never  been  a  fundamental  contention  in  America 
as  in  Great  Britain.  American  Congregationalists 
have,  however,  cheerfully  acquiesced  in  the  separa- 
tion of  Church  and  State  characteristic  of  the 
United  States. 

5.  Continental    antecedents. — It  is  difficult  to 


estimate  the  possible  influence  of  the  more  radical 
Continental  parties  of  the  Reformation  age  in  the 
origin  of  Congregationalism.  Their  direct  con- 
nexion it  is  impossible  to  demonstrate,  and  Eng- 
lish Congregationalism  seems  far  more  a  radical 
growth  out  of  English  Puritanism  than  any  effect 
of  Continental  discussions.  Nevertheless,  the  fact 
deserves  notice  that  many  of  the  most  character- 
istic positions  of  Congregationalism  were  antici- 
pated by  the  radicals  of  the  Reformation  age, 
notably  the  Anabaptists  (see  art.  Anabaptism). 

Originating  in  Switzerland  in  1523  or  1524,  and  apparently 
arising  nearly  contemporaneously  in  other  parts  of  the  Continent, 
the  Anabaptists  were  known  chiefly  for  their  rejection  of  infant 
baptism,  their  chiliastic  hopes,  their  condemnation  of  oaths, 
their  opposition  to  war,  their  denial  to  Christian  disciples  of 
the  right  to  hold  civil  office,  and  their  criticism  of  the  August- 
inian  theology.  Congregationalism  followed  them  in  none  of 
these  things.  But  they  also  held  that  the  Church  is  made  up 
of  local  congregations  of  experiential  Christians,  and  that  each 
congregation  is  self-governing,  and  is  empowered  in  democratic 
fashion  by  the  suffrages  of  its  members  to  choose  and  ordain 
its  own  officers  and  administer  its  own  discipline.  They  held 
that  the  Bible  is  the  all-sufficient  rule  of  faith  and  practice. 
In  these  principles  Congregationalism  agreed  with  them. 
Drawn  mostly  from  the  ignorant  lower  orders  of  the  popula- 
tion, though  not  without  a  few  educated  leaders,  the  Anabap- 
tists were  severely  persecuted  by  Catholics  and  Protestants 
alike ;  and,  in  the  opinion  of  their  opponents,  the  movement 
bore  its  appropriate  fruitage  in  the  frightful  fanaticism  in 
Miinster  in  1534-1535.  The  fanatical  element  was  only  a  frac- 
tion of  the  Anabaptist  party,  however,  and  notably  under  the 
lead  of  Menno  Simons  (1492-1559)  it  grew  in  orderly  fashion, 
especially  in  the  Netherlands,  where  it  obtained  protection 
from  William  the  Silent,  and  became  wide-spread  among  the 
artisan  classes.  The  terrible  wars  with  Spain  through  which 
the  Netherlands  independence  was  achieved  drove  thousands  of 
Protestant  Dutch  and  Walloon  working-men  to  England,  where 
they  constituted  a  not  inconsiderable  element  in  the  population 
of  London,  and  more  than  half  the  inhabitants  of  Norwich — 
cities  intimately  identified  with  the  beginnings  of  Congrega- 
tionalism— at  the  very  time  when  Congregationalism  had  its 
origin.  It  is  not  probable  that  any  large  portion  of  the  Nether- 
lands exiles  were  Anabaptists,  but  there  were  Anabaptists 
among  them  ;  and  it  is  not  impossible  that  some  more  or  less 
unconscious  infiltration  of  Anabaptist  ideas  may  have  prepared 
the  way  for  Congregationalism.  Of  this,  however,  there  is  no 
direct  proof,  though  the  similarity  between  some  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  Anabaptists  and  those  of  the  Congregationalists 
makes  the  question  of  a  connexion  an  interesting  problem. 

6.  History. — The  beginnings  of  Congregational- 
ism, so  far  as  they  can  be  definitely  traced,  were 
associated  with  Puritanism,  of  which  it  was  the 
most  radical  expression.  The  form  of  the  Church 
caused  relatively  little  discussion  in  the  early 
years  of  the  English  Reformation,  and,  when  dis- 
cussion arose,  it  was  forced  by  practical  rather 
than  by  theoretical  considerations.  England  pre- 
sented a  most  difficult  problem  at  the  beginning  of 
the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  A  clergy  and  a  popula- 
tion, a  great  proportion  of  whom,  while  eager  to 
maintain  England  for  Englishmen,  were  averse  to 
any  considerable  doctrinal  changes,  had  accepted 
with  outward  conformity  the  restoration  of  a  uni- 
form service  in  the  English  tongue,  and  admitted 
the  royal  supremacy  over  the  Church. 

From  a  Governmental  point  of  view  it  was  eminently  wise  to 
make  the  transition  from  Roman  Catholicism  as  easy  as  pos- 
sible, and  to  keep  as  many  of  the  ancient  clergy  in  office  as 
would  acquiesce  in  the  new  institutions,  without  inquiring  too 
minutely  into  their  spiritual  fitness.  From  the  religious  stand- 
point, however,  such  a  course  was  extremely  distasteful, 
especially  to  those  more  earnest  Protestants  who,  like  many 
who  had  gone  into  exile  under  Queen  Mary,  had  drawn  their 
ideals  from  Geneva.  These  men  desired  the  abolition  of  such 
vestments  and  ceremonies  as  seemed  to  them  calculated  to 
preserve  what  they  deemed  Roman  superstitions.  They  wished 
to  see  an  earnest,  educated,  preaching  ministry  established  in 
every  parish,  and  to  institute  a  vigorous  discipline  by  which 
the  Church  could  be  purged  from  unworthj'  members.  They 
were  soon  nick-named  '  Puritans.'  Their  attempts  to  effect  these 
results,  especially  the  modification  of  vestments  and  cere- 
monies, encountered  the  opposition  of  Elizabeth  and  her 
spiritual  agents,  the  bishops — an  opposition  based  in  large 
measure  on  a  desire  to  avoid  controversy  and  civil  discord. 
But  this  opposition  aroused  further  questioning,  which  ushered 
in  a  second  stage  of  Puritanism.  Men,  of  whom  Thomas  Cart- 
wright  (1535-1603)  was  typical,  began  to  ask  whether  a  form  of 
Church  government  that  opposed  reforms  which  seemed  to 
them  so  desirable  was  Divinely  warranted.  By  1569,  Cart- 
wright,  who  became  that  year  Lady  Margaret  professor  or 
Divinity  in  Cambridge,  was  attacking  the  constitution  of  the 


22 


CON  GRBGATION  ALISM 


Church  of  England  itself,  and  urging  its  further  reformation 
along  lines  essentially  borrowed  from  Presbyterianism  as  it 
had  been  developed  under  the  influence  of  Calvin  and  his  dis- 
ciples. This  seemed  to  him  and  to  his  party  the  Scriptural  model 
of  what  a  Church  should  be.  Cartwright  held  to  the  existence 
of  a  national  Church.  The  disaffected  Puritan  was  not  to 
separate  from  it ;  but  to  labour  in  it  to  introduce  as  much  of 
what  he  believed  to  be  Gospel  order  and  discipline  as  he  might, 
and  to  wait  for  the  strong  hand  of  civil  authority  to  reform  the 
often-altered  Church  of  England  into  full  conformity  to  what 
he  deemed  the  Divine  pattern.  To  come  out  from  it  and  to 
found  different  churches  was  no  part  of  the  duty  of  a  Chris- 
tian. These  views  of  Cartwright  represented  the  opinions  of 
the  vast  majority  of  Puritans  down  to  the  Great  Rebellion. 
To  the  more  radical  thinkers  of  the  time  this  con- 
dition of  things  seemed  intolerable.  They  would 
come  out  from  the  Church  and  organize  at  once  as 
they  believed  the  Church  should  be  organized. 
They  were  '  Separatists.'  Such  was  an  obscure 
company  of  which  Richard  Fitz  was  pastor,  which 
was  arrested  in  Plumber's  Hall,  London,  19th 
June  1567,  and  has  often  been  called  'the  first 
Congregational  Church.'  But  their  Congrega- 
tionalism, though  evident,  was  not  systematically 
developed.  The  first  careful  theoretic  exponent 
of  Congregationalism  was  Robert  Browne  (1550  !- 
1633),  whose  life  and  doctrines  are  considered  in 
art.  BKOWNISM.  Whether  through  the  influence 
of  his  books,  or  as  an  independent  illustration  of 
the  same  tendencies  which  led  Browne  to  separa- 
tion, a  similar  movement  soon  showed  itself  in 
London,  under  the  leadership  of  a  radical  Puritan 
clergyman,  John  Greenwood  (?-1593),  and  a  lawyer 
of  ability,  Henry  Barrowe  (1546  ?-1593).  Arrested 
in  1587,  they  were  yet  able  to  write  from  their 
prison  treatises  of  which  Barrowe's  A  Brief 'e  Dis- 
coverie  of  the  False  Church,  1590,  is  the  most  im- 
portant. Their  sympathizers  increased,  however, 
and,  in  1592,  a  Congregational  Church  was  formed 
in  London,  or,  if  organized  four  or  five  years 
earlier,  as  is  possible,  was  then  more  definitely 
established,  with  Francis  Johnson  (1562-1618)  as 
its  '  pastor  '  and  Greenwood  as  its  '  teacher.'  This 
activity  excited  the  authorities.  On  6th  April 
1593,  Barrowe  and  Greenwood  were  hanged  for 
denying  the  queen's  ecclesiastical  supremacy,  and 
the  rest  of  the  church  was  gradually  driven  into 
exile.  It  found  a  refuge  in  Amsterdam,  where 
its  experience  proved  stormy  owing  to  exaggerated 
attempts  to  enforce  discipline. 

The  same  causes  which  had  resulted  in  the  move- 
ments in  which  Browne  and  Barrowe  were  leaders 
induced  a  company  of  advanced  Puritans  in  Gains- 
borough and  the  region  about  Scrooby  to  organize 
two  Separatist  churches,  probably  late  in  1605  or 
early  in  1606.  Of  that  m  Gainsborough,  Rev. 
John  Smyth  (?-1612)  was  the  leader  ;  and  in 
that  meeting  in  the  home  of  William  Brewster 
(1560?-1644),  postmaster  in  Scrooby,  Rev.  Richard 
Clyfton,  Rev.  John  Robinson  (1576  ?-1625),  and  the 
youthful  William  Bradford  (1590-1657),  in  addition 
to  Brewster  himself,  were  the  most  prominent. 
Compelled  to  leave  England,  both  congregations 
found  a  refuge  in  Amsterdam,  where  Smyth  and 
his  associates  adopted  Baptist  principles.  The 
Scrooby  exiles,  under  the  lead  of  Robinson,  re- 
moved, in  1609,  to  Leyden ;  but,  being  anxious  to 
live  on  English  soil,  even  across  the  Atlantic,  a 
minority  of  the  church,  under  the  spiritual  over- 
sight of  '  ruling  elder '  William  Brewster,  made 
the  voyage  in  the  Mayflower,  and  established  the 
colony  of  Plymouth  in  New  England  in  1620. 
Meanwhile,  in  1616,'  a  Congregational  church, 
which  still  exists,  was  founded  in  the  Southwark 
district  of  London  by  Rev.  Henry  Jacob  (1563- 
1624),  who  had  been  a  member  of  the  Leyden 
congregation. 

It  may  be  doubted,  however,  whether  Congrega- 
tionalism would  have  developed  in  power  on  either 
side  of  the  Atlantic  had  it  not  been  for  the  stimulus 
of   the   great   Puritan   struggle   with   Charles  I. 


Puritan  thought,  despairing  of  securing  the  re- 
forms desired  in  England,  inclined  to  seek  the 
New  World  to  which  the  Scrooby-Leyden  Pilgrims 
had  already  shown  the  way.  In  1628  the  advance- 
guard  of  Puritan  emigration,  under  John  Endicott, 
landed  in  Salem,  Massachusetts.  On  4th  March 
1629  the  royal  charter  creating  the  '  Governor  and 
Company  of  Massachusetts  Bay  '  was  sealed.  The 
same  year  the  Salem  colony  was  largely  reinforced. 
In  1630  no  fewer  than  1000  persons  left  old  Eng- 
land for  the  new,  and  the  emigration  ran  full  tide 
till  the  advent  of  the  Long  Parliament  in  1640 
changed  the  political  situation  in  the  homeland. 
To  the  Massachusetts  colony  of  1629,  Connecticut 
was  added  in  1635-1636,  and  New  Haven  in  1638. 
These  settlers  were  Puritans,  not  Separatists. 
They  were,  many  of  them,  men  of  wealth  and 
position,  and  they  had  among  them  a  large  pro- 
portion of  well-educated,  influential  ministers. 
Yet  the  remarkable  fact  is  that,  on  their  arrival 
in  the  new  land,  they  organized  their  ecclesiastical 
institutions,  beginning  with  the  church  in  Salem 
in  1629,  essentially  on  the  model  of  Separatist 
Plymouth.  The  explanation  is  that  the  Scripture 
model  of  Church  government  seemed  to  them  that 
which  Separatism  had  already  anticipated,  and, 
under  the  freedom  of  the  plastic  conditions  of  new 
settlements,  they  created  churches  of  practically 
the  same  type  as  the  earlier  Separatist  congrega- 
tions. But,  as  has  been  indicated  in  the  section 
on  the  relations  of  Congregationalism  to  the  State, 
these  New  England  churches  became  a  real  Estab- 
lishment, and  enjoyed  State  support  in  a  manner 
for  which  the  earlier  Separatism  never  had  oppor- 
tunity, and  which  it  repudiated  in  principle.  The 
history  of  Congregationalism  in  17th-cent.  New 
England  was  largely  that  of  growth  in  numbers  by 
reason  of  the  slow  increase  of  the  population,  of  a 
declining  religious  enthusiasm,  and  of  discussions 
arising  from  the  development  of  polity.  Education 
was  fostered  not  only  by  lesser  schools,  but  by  the 
founding  of  Harvard  College  in  1636,  and  of  Yale 
College  in  1701.  There  was  little  doctrinal  division, 
all  the  churches  representing  the  current  Puritan 
Calvinism,  and  there  was  remarkable  uniformity 
in  organization,  worship,  and  method. 

Congregationalism  made  slow  progress  in  Eng- 
land from  its  permanent  establishment  in  South- 
wark in  1616  to  the  meeting  of  the  Long  Parliament 
in  1640.  Its  chief  representatives  found  refuge  in 
New  England  or  in  the  Netherlands.  But,  with 
the  outbreak  of  the  struggle  between  King  and 
Parliament,  and  the  return  of  a  number  of  the 
exiles,  it  grew  very  rapidly.  Though  the  West- 
minster Assembly,  which  began  its  sessions  in 
1643,  was  overwhelmingly  Presbyterian,  it  in- 
cluded five  determined  Congregationalists  and 
several  at  least  partial  adherents.  The  desire 
of  Cromwell  and  the  army  for  a  large  tolera- 
tion was  favourable  to  the  spread  of  Congrega- 
tionalism. Congregationalists  were  appointed  to 
many  important  ecclesiastical  and  educational  posts 
under  the  Protectorate,  and  enjoyed  the  cordial 
favour  of  Cromwell.  The  Savoy  Synod,  held  in 
London  in  1658,  gathered  the  representatives  of 
120  churches.  Congregationalists  suffered  with 
other  Nonconformists  from  the  repressive  policy 
of  the  Restoration,  but  their  churches  were  not 
extinguished,  and  at  the  Revolution  in  1689  the 
Toleration  Act  secured  them  legal  standing,  under 
rather  onerous  conditions,  in  common  with  other 
Dissenters.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  epoch  of  the 
struggle  between  King  and  Parliament  and  of  the 
Commonwealth  was  spent,  and  Congregationalism 
shared  in  the  spiritual  decline  of  the  first  half  of 
the  18th  century.  It  was  touched,  however,  but 
slightly  by  the  Arian  and  Socinian  defection  that 
made  such  inroads  on  contemporary  English  Prea- 


CONGREGATIONALISM 


23 


byterianism.  During  the  latter  half  of  the  18th 
cent,  it  felt  with  increasing  power  the  stimulus  of 
the  great  Evangelical  movement  which  the  Wesleys 
and  Whitefield  had  initiated,  and  experienced  a 
profound  spiritual  re-awakening  which  led  to  rapid 
growth.  County  Associations  were  generally  estab- 
lished between  1785  and  1810.  The  London  Mis- 
sionary Society,  nominally  an  undenominational 
organization  for  carrying  the  gospel  to  the  heathen, 
but  increasingly  Congregational  in  constituency, 
came  into  being  in  1795.  The  Home  Missionary 
Society  was  organized  in  1819,  and  the  Colonial 
Missionary  Society  in  1836.  The  year  1832  saw 
the  formation  of  the  Congregational  Union  of 
England  and  Wales.  The  period  from  that  time 
to  the  present  has  been  one  of  healthful  growth 
and  spiritual  fruitfulness. 

In  Scotland,  Congregationalism  did  not  gain  a 
permanent  foothold  till  the  last  decade  of  the  18th 
cent.,  when  it  won  its  way  as  the  supporter  of  a 
warm,  evangelical  type  of  piety  and  preaching. 
Its  hold  on  the  Scottish  people  has  been  relatively 
small,  but  it  has  proved  a  vigorous  force  in  the 
religious  life  of  the  nation. 

The  earlier  part  of  the  18th  cent,  witnessed  a 
decline  in  the  spiritual  vigour  of  Congregationalism 
in  America  as  in  England.  From  this  condition  in 
America  it  was  powerfully  aroused  by  the  '  Great 
Awakening'  in  1740-1742,  through  the  preaching 
of  George  Whitefield,  Jonathan  Edwards,  and  other 
promoters  of  the  revivals.  The  '  Awakening '  led 
to  division  of  sentiment,  though  not  to  actual 
separation,  in  the  New  England  churches — the 
'  Old  Lights '  opposing  its  methods,  which  the 
'  New  Lights '  favoured.  With  Jonathan  Edwards 
(1703-1758)  a  great  theological  development  began, 
essentially  Calvinistic  in  fundamentals,  but  with 
no  little  modification  of  historic  Calvinism.  This 
was  continued  by  Joseph  Bellamy  (1719-1790), 
Samuel  Hopkins  (1721-1803),  Jonathan  Edwards 
the  younger  (1745-1801),  Nathanael  Emmons  (1745- 
1840),  Timothy  Dwight  (1752-1817),  Nathaniel  W. 
Taylor  (1786-1858),  and  others,  and  produced  the 
most  distinctive  school  of  theology  that  America 
has  originated.  In  the  Revolutionary  War  the 
Congregational  churches  sympathized  warmly  with 
the  colonial  cause.  The  year  1792  saw  the  be- 
ginning of  a  great  epoch  of  revivals,  which  con- 
tinued to  recur  at  intervals  till  1858.  By  1800, 
Congregationalism,  which  had  been  practically 
confined  to  New  England,  began  to  spread  west- 
ward with  the  settlement  of  the  country,  and  the 
process  was  initiated  which  has  resulted  in  the 
establishment  of  nearly  three-quarters  of  the 
present  Congregational  churches  of  the  United 
States  beyond  New  England  borders. 

By  1815  a  Unitarian  movement,  the  roots  of  which 
ran  back  into  the  18th  cent.,  was  felt  especially  in 
Massachusetts,  and  resulted  in  a  separation,  which 
still  continues,  from  the  main  Congregational  body. 
The  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign 
Missions  was  organized  in  1810  to  do  the  work 
indicated  in  its  title.  Home  missionary  work 
was  begun  by  State  bodies,  commencing  with 
Connecticut  in  1774,  and  resulted,  in  1826,  in  the 
formation  of  a  Home  Missionary  Society  of  national 
scope.  The  American  Missionary  Association, 
which  has  laboured  chiefly  among  the  Negroes 
and  the  Indians,  came  into  being  in  1846 ;  and 
the  Congregational  Church  Building  Society  dates 
from  1853. 

World-wide  Congregationalism  has  expressed  its 
fellowship  in  International  Councils,  of  which 
previous  mention  has  been  made. 

7.  Beliefs. — Congregationalism  has  been  a  system 
of  Church  polity  rather  than  a  peculiar  form  of 
faith.  In  its  early  history  it  stood,  in  common 
with    Puritanism    in    general,    on    the    basis    of 


Calvinism.  The  Cambridge  Synod  in  New  Eng- 
land, in  1648,  approved  the  doctrinal  portions  of 
the  Westminster  Confession  ;  and  the  Savoy  Synod 
in  London,  ten  years  later,  expressed  a  like  con- 
currence, except  for  slight  modifications.  The 
'New  England  Theology'  of  the  18th  and  19th 
cents.,  whatever  its  departures  from  earlier  Cal- 
vinism, belonged  to  the  Calvinistic  school.  It 
regarded  itself  as  an  improved  or  'consistent' 
Calvinism.  The  Declaration  adopted  by  the 
Union  of  the  Congregational  Churches  of  England 
and  Wales  in  1833  is  distinctly,  though  mildly, 
Calvinistic.  The  National  Council  of  the  Con- 
gregational Churches  of  the  United  States,  held 
in  Boston  in  1865,  was  with  difficulty  prevented 
from  adopting  a  declaration  that  the  faith  of  the 
Churches  was  '  that  which  is  commonly  known 
among  us  as  Calvinism.'  The  Declaration  was 
frustrated  by  the  determined  efforts  of  those  who 
deprecated  any  party  shibboleth.  But  the  later 
years  of  the  19th  cent,  witnessed  a  rapid  decline  of 
interest  in  the  older  doctrinal  discussions.  The 
'Declaration'  adopted  by  the  National  Council 
at  Oberlin,  in  1871,  was  designed  by  its  omissions 
to  make  the  way  easy  for  those  of  Arminian  sym- 
pathies. The  '  Creed,'  prepared  in  1883  by  a  com- 
mission appointed  by  the  National  Council,  main- 
tains the  same  neutrality  between  Calvinism  and 
Arminianism.  It  will  be  remembered  that  these 
various  expressions  of  belief  have  the  value  only 
of  testimonies,  each  local  church  being  free  to 
declare  its  faith  in  its  own  way.  Since  the  last  of 
them  was  set  forth,  however,  the  Congregational 
churches,  in  common  with  Protestantism  generally, 
have  been  passing  through  a  period  of  theological 
re-statement — the  result  of  Biblical  criticism,  of 
the  wide  prevalence  of  an  evolutionary  view  of 
history,  of  the  new  emphasis  on  the  Divine  im- 
manence, and  of  a  quickened  conception  of  social 
service  as  a  main  aim  of  the  Christian  life,  whether 
of  individuals  or  of  Churches.  No  body  of  Chris- 
tians has  on  the  whole  been  more  willing  to 
welcome  these  newer  views  than  the  Congrega- 
tionalists,  but  the  degree  in  which  they  have  been 
accepted  varies  widely  in  different  churches.  It  is 
not  sufficient,  however,  to  disturb  their  sense  of 
fellowship  and  of  continuity  with  their  historic 
past,  or  the  broad  fundamental  outlines  of  their 
conception  of  the  meaning  of  the  Gospel. 

8.  Worship. — The  Congregational  churches,  at 
their  origin,  shared  to  the  full  the  Puritan  objec- 
tions to  ceremonies  and  vestments  which  seemed 
to  savour  of  Romanism,  and,  like  the  more  radical 
Puritans  in  general,  they  rejected  fixed  forms  of 
prayer.  They  long  confined  the  hymns  of  their 
services  to  rhymed  portions  of  Scripture.  It  was 
not  till  the  first  half  of  the  18th  cent.,  through  the 
influence  of  the  English  Congregational  hymn- 
writer,  Rev.  Isaac  Watts  (1674-1748),  that  this 
prejudice  against  hymns  '  of  human  composition ' 
gradually  broke  down.  The  typical  Congrega- 
tional service  of  the  17th  cent,  began  with  a  prayer 
in  words  of  the  minister's  own  choosing,  followed 
by  the  reading  of  Scripture,  generally  with  com- 
ments verse  by  verse,  then  the  singing  of  a  psalm, 
the  sermon,  a  second  free  prayer,  a  second  psalm, 
and  the  benediction.  This  order  was  slightly 
modified,  very  possibly  through  the  influence  of 
the  Westminster  Directory,  so  that  the  sequence 
became  commonly  a  brief  prayer  of  invocation, 
reading  of  the  Scriptures,  usually  without  com- 
ment, singing,  a  'long prayer,'  the  sermon,  prayer, 
singing,  and  the  benediction.  This  remained  the 
almost  universal  order  till  within  half  a  century, 
and  still  constitutes  an  approximate  outline  of 
Congregational  worship.  The  last  few  decades 
have  witnessed  a  large  use  of  responsive  readings, 
anthems,  and  other  efforts  at  the  '  enrichment '  of 


24 


CONGREGATIONALISM 


service,  and  the  individual  freedom  of  each  con- 
gregation makes  possible  a  considerable  variety  of 
usage.  Opposition  to  some  use  of  fixed  forms  of 
prayer  is  waning,  but  Congregational  worship  is 
still  non-liturgical  in  its  fundamental  character. 
The  Lord's  Supper  has  been  observed  since  the 
early  days  of  Congregationalism  at  intervals  of  a 
month  or  two  months.  Till  near  the  close  of  the 
18th  cent.  Congregational  worship  involved  two 
services,  such  as  have  been  described,  each  Sunday, 
and  in  large  towns  a  mid-week  'lecture,'  which 
was  really  another  sermon.  About  the  end  of 
the  18th  cent,  the  'prayer-meeting'  was  generally 
introduced  for  the  cultivation  of  the  Christian  life 
— by  prayer,  Scripture  exposition,  singing,  and 
informal  addresses,  under  the  presidency  of  the 
pastor,  but  with  free  participation  by  the  laity. 
It  has  been  ever  since  a  feature  of  congregational 
worship,  but  its  successful  maintenance,  save  in 
times  of  unusual  religious  interest,  is  generally 
regarded  as  one  of  the  most  difficult  of  pastoral 
problems. 

9.  Characteristics. — Congregationalism  has  al- 
ways favoured  education,  both  in  the  pulpit  and 
in  the  pew.  In  England  many  '  academies  '  were 
founded  after  the  Toleration  Act  and  throughout 
the  18th  century.  A  number  of  these  have  become 
flourishing  '  colleges,'  their  aim  being  to  train  a 
learned  ministry  and  to  provide  the  higher  educa- 
tion for  laymen  which  ecclesiastical  tests,  now 
abrogated,  then  made  unattainable  in  the  Univer- 
sities. In  the  United  States  the  Congregationalists 
have  been  foremost  among  religious  bodies  in  plant- 
ing colleges  and  fostering  schools.  The  Congrega- 
tional spirit  has  not  been  sectarian,  however,  and 
these  institutions  have  been  freely  opened,  and 
have  not  been  used  as  a  means  of  denominational 
propaganda. 

Congregationalists  have  been  greatly  interested 
in  home  and  foreign  missions.  The  efforts  of  the 
Rev.  John  Eliot  (1604-1690),  begun  in  1646,  for 
the  conversion  of  the  Massachusetts  Indians,  led 
to  the  incorporation  by  the  Long  Parliament,  in 
1649,  of  the  first  English  Foreign  Missionary 
Society,  the  '  President  and  Society  for  the  Pro- 
pagation of  the  Gospel  in  New  England.'  The 
establishment  of  the  London  Missionary  Society 
in  1795  and  of  the  American  Board  of  Commis- 
sioners for  Foreign  Missions  in  1810  has  already 
been  noted. 

The  flexibility  of  Congregationalism  has  made 
it  easy  to  try  experiments  in  methods  of  Chris- 
tian work,  and  these  churches,  as  a  whole,  have 
always  been  ready  to  welcome  novel  activities 
which  seemed  to  promise  greater  usefulness  in 
Christian  service. 

10.  Problems. — The  problems  of  Congregational- 
ism are  those  of  democracy  generally.  That  which 
is  most  pressing  is  how  to  secure  efficiency  without 
sacrificing  democratic  liberty.  Congregationalism 
has  proved  itself  admirably  adapted  to  rural  con- 
ditions among  a  homogeneous  population  of  intelli- 
gence. It  has  been  less  successful  in  cities  where 
contrasts  in  wealth  and  education  are  extreme. 
Each  church  being  a  self-governing,  democratic 
community,  there  is  always  danger  that  those  con- 
gregations in  the  more  needy  parts  of  a  city  will  be 
unduly  weak  in  resources  both  of  money  and  of  men 
of  ability.  Congregationalism  endeavours,  with 
partial  success,  to  counteract  this  tendency  by 
Home  Missionary  aid  and  superintendence.  There 
is  also  the  peril,  in  city  communities,  where  con- 
gregations are  gathered  largely  by  elective  affinity, 
that  a  church  may  become  essentially  a  religious 
club.  As  in  all  democratic  bodies,  union  for 
strategic  advance  is  often  accomplished  at  the 
cost  of  undue  effort,  or  is  not  achieved  at  all.  In 
order  to  make  itself  more  efficient   in  these  re- 


spects, without  forfeiting  the  essential  autonomy 
of  the  local  church,  Congregationalism,  both  in 
Great  Britain  and  in  America,  is  at  present  dis- 
playing a  centralizing  tendency.  The  advisory 
powers  of  Associations  are  being  extended  and 
increased,  and  a  system  of  superintendency,  by 
committees  or  individuals,  without  judicial  or 
mandatory  powers,  but  with  large  advisory  influ- 
ence, is  in  process  of  development.  The  watch- 
word of  this  movement,  now  felt  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic,  is  'a  more  efficient  Congrega- 
tionalism.' 

11.  Statistics. — In  the  statistics  of  Congrega- 
tionalism only  those  who  have  become  church- 
members  by  a  profession  of  personal  Christian 
experience  are  included.  The  figures,  it  is  usually 
thought,  must  be  multiplied  five-fold  to  represent 
the  total  number  of  adherents. 

In  the  following  table  only  church-members  are 
included : 


Ooun  tries. 

Churches, 
Chapels, 

and 
Stations. 

Church 

Members. 

] 
Sunday- 
School 
Scholars. 

England  and  Wales     . 

Scotland 

Ireland 

Channel  Islands  . 

Canada — 
Nova  Scotia 
New  Brunswick 
Ontario     .        .        . 
Quebec 

Newfoundland     . 

British  Guiana     . 

New  South  WaleB 

Queensland . 

South  Australia  . 

Victoria 

Western  Australia 

New  Zealand 

Tasmania 

South  Africa 

American  Zulu  Mission 

Natal    .... 

Sierra  Leone 

Jamaica 

China  .... 

India    .... 

Japan  .... 

Syria    .... 

United  States 

Independent  and  Mis- 
sion Sunday  Schools 

American  Foreign  Mis- 
sionary Churches     . 

4,652 

211 

40 

12 

21 

8 
88 
66 
13 
53 
82 
60 
63 
87 
43 
36 
49 
338 
49 
47 

1 
46 

3 
15 
94 

2 
6,991 

564 

469,147 

35,920 

2,262 

333 

831 

277 
5,638 
3,725 

324 
5,146 
4,956 
2,227 
3,388 
4,219 
1,189 
2,241 

902 
17,665 
2,406 

503 

600 
3,422 

627 

598 

13,806 

83 

730,718 

73,671 

676,785 

34,521 

4,621 

444 

733 
73 

•      4,574 

2,959 

368 

4,663 

8,443 

4,594 

6,011 

7,448 

2,284 

2,633 

1,897 

7,938 

2,226 

668 

250 

1,570 

425 

418 

10,044 

696,367 

49  776 

73,685 

12,703 

1,376,424 

1,606,417 

Literature. — The  literature  of  Congregationalism  is  enor- 
mous, but  a  substantially  complete  bibliography  to  1879,  em- 
bracing 7250  titles,  may  be  found  in  H.  M.  Dexter,  The 
Congregationalism  of  the  last  Three  Hundred  Years  as  seen 
in  its  Literature,  New  York,  1880.  The  following  works  will 
be  found  of  special  value  : — 

(1)  Polity. — Robert  Browne,  A  Booke  which  sheweth  the 
Life  and  Manners  of  all  true  Christians,  Middelburg,  1682 ; 
Henry  Barrowe,  A  Briefe  Diseoverie  of  the  False  Church, 
Dort,  1590  ;  John  Robinson,  various  treatises  between  1610  and 
1625,  collected  in  R.  Ashton's  Works  of  John  Robinson,  London, 
1851 ;  Richard  Mather,  Church-Government  and  Church-Cove- 
nant Discussed,  London,  1643 ;  John  Cotton,  The  Keyes  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven,  London,  1644  ;  Thomas  Hooker,  Survey 
of  the  Summe  of  Church  Discipline,  London,  1G48  ;  A  Platform 
of  Church  Discipline,  etc.  (The  '  Cambridge  Platform ').  Cam- 
bridge, Mass.  1649,  and  twenty-five  later  editions ;  A  Declara- 
tion of  the  Faith  and  Order  owned  and  practised  in  the  Congreg. 
Churches  in  England  (The  '  Savoy  Declaration '),  London,  1658, 
and  eleven  later  editions ;  Heads  of  Agreement  Assented  to  by 
the  United  Ministers  in  and  about  London,  London,  1691,  and 
many  later  editions;  A  Confession  of  Faith,  etc.  (The  'Say- 
brook  Platform '),  New  London,  Conn.  1710,  and  Bix  later 
editions;  John  Wise,  A  Vindication  of  the  Government  of 
New  England  Churches,  Boston,  1717  ;  Cotton  Mather,  Ratio 
Disciplinae,  Boston,  1726;  Thomas  C.  Upham,  Ratio  Disci- 
plinae,  Portland,  Maine,  1829-;  Woodbury  Davis,  Congreg. 
Polity,  Usages,  and  Law,  Boston,  1865;  H.  M.  Dexter,  Con- 
gregationalism :  What  it  is ;  Whence  it  is ;  How  it  Works, 
Boston,  1865,  also  A  Handbook  of  Congregationalism,  Boston, 


CONNEXIONALISM 


28 


1890,  and  The  Council  Manual  for  a  Congreg.  Churchy  Boston, 
1896 ;  Edgar  L.  Heermance,  Democracy  in  the  Church, 
Boston,  1906.  The  more  important  documents  relating  to 
Congregational  polity  have  been  collected  and  annotated  by 
Williston  Walker,  The  Creeds  and  Platforms  of  Congrega- 
tionalism, New  York,  1893. 

(2)  HISTORY.—  Champlin  Burrage,  The  True  Story  of  Robert 
Browne,  Oxford,  1906  ;  F.  J.  Powicke,  Henry  Barrow,  London, 
1900;  O.  S.  Davis,  John  Robinson,  Boston,  1903;  William 
Bradford,  Hist,  of  Plymouth  Plantation,  Boston,  1856 ;  John 
Brown,  The  Pilgrim  Fathers,  London,  1895  ;  E.  Arber,  The 
Story  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  London,  1897  ;  John  A.  Goodwin, 
The  Pilgrim  Republic,  Boston,  18S8  ;  Cotton  Mather,  Magnalia 
Christi  Americana,  London,  1702 ;  Benjamin  Hanbury,  His- 
torical Memorials  relating  to  the  Independents,  London,  1839- 
44  ;  William  B.  Sprague,  Annals  of  the  American  Pulpit, 
New  York,  1857  ;  George  Punchard,  Hist,  of  Congregational- 
ism, Boston,  1865-81 ;  John  Waddington,  Congreg.  Hist., 
London,  1869-78  ;  H.  M.  Dexter,  The  Congregationalism  of  the 
last  Three  Hundred  Years  as  seen  in  its  Literature,  New  York, 
1S80  ;  Williston  Walker,  Hist,  of  the  Congreg.  Churchesin  the 
United  States,  New  York,  1894;  Albert  E.  Dunning,  Con- 
gregationalists  in  America,  New  York,  1394  ;  George  Leon 
Walker,  Some  Aspects  of  the  Religious  Life  of  New  England, 
Boston,  1897 ;  James  Ross,  A  Hist,  of  Congreg.  Independency 
in  Scotland,  Glasgow,  1900 ;  Williston  Walker,  Ten  New 
England  Leaders,  Boston,  1901;  R.  W.  Dale,  Hist,  of  Eng. 
Congregationalism,  London,  1907.  An  official  Congregational 
Year-Book  is  issued  annually  by  both  the  British  and  the 
American  bodies.  WILLISTON  WALKER. 


CONNEXIONALISM.— There  are  many  sys- 
tems of  Church  organization  in  which  itinerant 
evangelists  link  together  scattered  congregations, 
and  maintain  a  strong  corporate  feeling  hy  regular 
meetings  among  themselves,  when  they  as  a  body 
arrange  the  sphere  of  work  for  each,  and  often 
exercise  other  functions  of  government.  Such 
systems  are  usually  styled  '  Connexional,'  and 
although  that  name  is  also  employed  more  loosely, 
it  is  such  systems  that  are  here  compared  with  one 
another.  They  flourish  where  a  democracy,  or  an 
oligarchy,  is  inspired  with  a  zeal  for  propaganda, 
and  especially  where  a  revival  is  prompted  and 
supported  by  Bible  study. 

Connexional  elements  may  be  traced  even  in 
the  Apostolic  era,  when  the  Apostles  allotted 
among  themselves  their  fields  of  labour,  and  when 
St.  Paul  and  his  comrades  travelled  widely,  and 
kept  in  touch  with  the  churches  they  founded, 
both  by  visits  and  by  letters,  and  by  delegates  to 
supervise,  such  as  Timothy,  and  Tychicus,  and 
Titus.  But  the  Greek  churches  brought  over  the 
Greek  love  of  independence,  and  the  Third  Epistle 
of  John  shows  at  the  close  of  the  Apostolic  age  a 
local  minister  revolting  against  the  mere  presence 
of  any  visiting  missionary.  This  tendency  was 
reinforced  by  a  jealousy  between  the  officers  of 
business,  appointed  primarily  to  '  serve  tables,' 
and  the  gifted  brethren,  including  those  who  were 
set  apart  to  give  themselves  to  the  ministry  of  the 
word.  The  local  administrators  steadily  gained 
in  esteem  at  the  expense  of  the  travelling  evan- 
gelists, and,  when  the  Montanist  movement  failed, 
the  reaction  within  the  Catholic  Church  practically 
ended  the  career  of  the  evangelists.  They  survived 
only  on  the  frontiers  of  Christendom,  and  we  shall 
see  that  connexionalism  flourishes  best  in  the 
mission  stage  of  a  church,  and  in  communities 
which  emphasize  evangelism. 

While  a  bureaucracy  of  church  officials  developed, 
on  lines  suggested  by  the  Roman  civil  service,  there 
was  no  room  for  connexionalism  in  this  diocesan 
system.  But  among  the  laity  there  arose  a  new 
plan  of  organization,  whereby  those  who  were  in 
thorough  earnest  about  their  Christian  life  put 
themselves  under  severe  discipline  as  monks.  Basil 
for  the  Eas  ,  and  Benedict  for  the  West,  produced 
bodies  of  r  iles  to  order  the  community  life,  and 
these  were  widely  adopted.  But  neither  the  one 
nor  the  otb  ir  contemplated  evangelism  as  a  leading 
feature ;  siWvation  of  self  rather  than  salvation  of 
others  was  the  chief  aim.  Although  the  Iro- 
Scottish  monks  had  a  loftier  conception,  yet  they 


conspicuously  lacked  the  faculty  of  organization, 
and  their  foundations  remained  isolated.  Two 
races  have  displayed  a  genius  for  method  and 
order — the  Roman  and  the  English, — and  certain 
developments  of  the  Benedictine  scheme  due  to 
these  nations  show  signs  of  connexionalism. 

Thus  Stephen  Harding  in  1119  inspired  the 
Cistercian  method,  whereby  the  religious  belonged 
to  an  Order  rather  than  to  a  single  House.  Year 
by  year  the  Abbots  of  the  Houses  met  in  con- 
sultation, and  in  theory  not  only  the  humbler 
members,  but  the  Abbots  themselves,  could  be 
transferred  from  convent  to  convent.  Since, 
however,  no  systematic  plan  of  rotation  was 
adopted,  or  even  any  rule  that  rotation  should 
take  place,  there  was  in  practice  much  inertia. 
And  as  the  aims  of  the  Order  did  not  exalt  evan- 
gelism, there  was  no  special  motive  for  circulation. 

A  century  later  the  English  Benedictines  moved 
in  the  same  direction,  but  the  Italians  evolved 
farthest,  producing  the  Silvestrine,  the  Celestine, 
and  the  Olivetan  organizations.  Instead  of  officers 
being  appointed  for  life,  they  had  fixed  terms  of 
duty ;  a  General  Chapter  chose  a  nominating 
committee  which  selected  them.  This  line  of 
evolution  culminated  in  1432,  with  the  approval 
of  the  Cassinese  constitution.  Details  of  these 
schemes  are  given  by  Abbot  Gasquet  in  his 
Introduction  to  Montalembert's  Monks  of  the 
West  (Eng.  tr.  1861-79). 

It  might  have  been  expected  that  the  friars 
would  show  more  originality,  that  their  ideal  of 
brotherhood  would  express  itself  in  a  democratic 
rule,  and  that  their  ideal  of  service  would  impel 
them  to  steady  organized  work  for  others.  But 
the  movement  was  soon  captured  by  the  Roman 
Curia,  and  the  time-honoured  diocesan  pattern 
was  adopted,  with  the  slight  changes  needed  for 
definitely  local  groups  of  professed  Christians 
instead  of  areas  within  which  a  professed  clergy 
ministered  to  a  population  nominally  Christian. 
Thus  friaries  were  grouped  into  congregations 
under  a  provincial,  and  all  were  ruled  by  a 
minister-general.  The  Roman  monarchical  ideal 
prevailed  in  the  plan  of  government. 

But  a  similar  movement,  originated  by  Peter 
Waldo  of  Lyons,  being  discountenanced  by  the 
authorities,  was  free  to  elaborate  its  own  machinery 
(Newman,  Manual  of  Church  History,  i.  571-8). 
In  1218  a  conference  was  held  at  Bergamo,  when, 
amongst  other  matters,  the  polity  came  up  for 
discussion.  An  annual  meeting  was  held,  usually 
in  Lombardy,  when  probationers  were  admitted  to 
membership  after  long  training  and  testing.  They 
made  promises  of  celibacy,  poverty,  and  readiness 
to  evangelize,  quite  on  the  Franciscan  model.  But, 
once  the  initiate  was  admitted,  he  found  himself 
a  member  of  a  governing  corporation,  which  not 
only  recruited  itself  and  saw  to  the  purity  of  the 
whole  body,  but  also  required  reports  from  every 
part  of  the  field,  and  administered  the  funds  of 
the  community,  gathered  during  the  year.  The 
Lombards,  indeed,  with  the  Italian  instinct, 
decidedly  preferred  a  single  head,  chosen  for  life ; 
and  they  favoured  a  general  life  tenure  of  aU 
offices.  The  Germans,  again,  upheld  the  plan  of 
Waldo,  that  all  offices  should  be  terminable,  and 
that  there  should  be  no  single  head,  but  several 
rectors.  In  this  matter  the  two  parties  apparently 
agreed  to  differ,  maintaining  their  own  customs 
and  recognizing  the  legitimacy  of  each  others' 
officers.  But  the  unique  feature  is  that  the  annual 
meeting  had  full  powers,  and  actually  exercised 
them  in  the  appointment  of  all  officers,  in  allotting 
to  each  member  his  work,  and  in  determining  its 
nature  and  sphere.  To  some  extent  this  scheme 
influenced  the  Bohemian  Brethren  and  the 
Moravian     Anabaptists,     though     these     bodies 


26 


CONNBXIONALISM 


adopted  the  Italian  plan  of  a  single  head  holding 
office  for  life. 

In  1527  an  important  conference  was  held  at  Augs- 
burg, when  delegates  from  the  '  Brethren '  organized 
on  new  lines  (Lindsay,  Hist,  of  Reformation, 
Edinb.  1907,  ii.  435).  All  the  officers  of  all  the 
congregations  within  a  convenient  district  chose  a 
committee  of  themselves  to  act  for  the  group,  and 
the  committee  chose  a  president.  The  districts 
associated  on  the  same  principle,  and  thus  a 
pyramid  of  committees  was  erected.  To  these 
people,  popularly  known  as  '  Anabaptists,'  is 
therefore  due  not  only  the  machinery  of  a  single 
congregation,  which  was  presently  taken  over  by 
Calvin  in  his  Institutio,  and  put  in  practice  at 
Geneva,  but  also  the  machinery  for  an  alliance  of 
congregations,  adopted  in  France  during  1559,  and 
in  Scotland  next  year,  and  so  well  known  as  the 
Presbyterian  scheme.  But  the  '  Brethren '  had 
one  feature  which  was  dropped  by  the  French,  the 
Scots,  and  the  Dutch — an  order  of  evangelists 
whose  business  it  was  to  travel  and  propagate  the 
faith.  It  is  not  quite  clear  how  these  were 
appointed,  or  how  their  routes  were  determined — 
if,  indeed,  appointment  and  travelling  were  not 
spontaneous  rather  than  systematic.  And,  although 
several  conferences  were  held,  the  persecutions  of 
the  next  few  years  were  enough  to  disorganize  any 
machinery. 

A  year  after  the  fall  of  Miinster,  an  important 
meeting  was  held  a  few  miles  away  at  Bockholt, 
when  the  Anabaptists  of  Lower  Germany  and 
England  re-organized  and  adopted  the  connexional 
plan  (Barclay,  Inner  Life  of  the  Religious  Societies 
of  the  Commonwealth,  88).  Each  congregation  sent 
delegates  to  an  annual  meeting,  which  stationed 
the  ministers  and  arranged  for  the  support  of 
those  who  itinerated,  besides  aiding  poor  congre- 
gations and  members.  This  system  was  developed 
in  the  Netherlands  and  up  the  Rhine,  and,  though 
many  divisions  occurred, — into  Mennonites,  Water- 
landers,  Doopsgezinden,  Flemings,  Old  Flemings, 
Frisians,  etc. , — yet  each  body  neld  to  the  con- 
nexional type.  As  most  of  these  Connexions  held 
the  doctrine  of  passive  resistance,  and  objected 
to  bearing  arms  or  taking  oaths,  they  found 
their  position  extremely  awkward  during  the 
Napoleonic  era ;  and  the  renewed  conscriptions  of 
the  last  forty  years  have  caused  their  practical 
disappearance  from  Europe,  and  their  emigration 
to  America  (Barclay,  op.  cit.  243).  In  the  New 
World  may  still  be  found  the  remnants  of  these 
ancient  bodies,  and  of  kindred  organizations  like 
the  Schwenkfeldians,  true  to  the  connexional  type 
in  that  the  annual  meeting  governs ;  but,  as  the 
numbers  have  greatly  diminished,  the  vote  is 
exercised  not  by  officers  alone,  but  by  all  male 
members. 

Recurring  to  the  Reformation  period,  we  find 
forty  churches  in  Lombardy  and  Switzerland  acting 
together;  and  a  special  convention  was  held  at 
Venice  in  1550  (Newman,  Hist.  ofAnti-Pedobaptism, 
Philad.  1896,  pp.  327-9).  The  Waldensian  plan 
so  well  known  in  the  vicinity  had  been  adopted  in 
general  outline,  and  the  government  lay  in  the 
hands  of  the  itinerant  preachers,  who  associated 
with  themselves  candidates  under  training,  and 
not  only  visited  all  the  congregations,  but  also 
ordained  the  local  ministers.  These  churches 
mostly  adopted  anti-Trinitarian  views,  and  were 
persecuted  till  they  left  the  district ;  but  many 
members  went  to  Moravia  and  Poland,  where  they 
spread  their  tenets,  so  that  the  '  Socinians '  were 
indebted  to  them  for  hints  on  ecclesiastical  polity 
as  well  as  on  doctrine. 

The  Reformed  Churches  took  over  from  the 
Anabaptists  the  general  scheme  of  organization, 
and  especially  the  principle  that,  whether  in  a 


single  congregation  or  in  a  court  supervising 
several  congregations,  the  power  was  vested 
entirely  in  the  officers.  Ordinary  members  might 
have  a  voice  and  vote  in  electing  an  elder,  but  his 
ordination  rested  with  the  existing  elders,  who 
thus  tended  to  become  a  self-perpetuating  caste. 
Ruling  elders  were  usually  local,  but  preaching 
elders  or  ministers  were  liable  to  move ;  in  Germany 
and  Scotland  the  authority  of  the  State  was  inter- 
posed in  various  matters,  extending  occasionally  to 
the  location  of  a  minister,  and  thus  the  autonomy 
of  the  Churches  was  crippled.  Owing  partly  to 
the  high  educational  qualifications  of  the  Reformed 
ministry,  and  partly  to  general  inertia,  long  tenure 
of  a  pastorate  became  customary,  and  thus  one 
frequent  feature  of  a  Connexion  was  obscured. 
But  in  theory  the  whole  spiritual  government  of 
a  Presbyterian  church  resides  with  the  ordained 
members,  and  they  have  at  least  a  veto  on  any 
increase  of  their  number,  or  on  the  translation  of 
any  minister ;  nor  is  his  personal  preference  a 
decisive  factor  any  more  than  the  wish  of  a  single 
congregation.  While  these  theories  are  still  up- 
held, the  connexional  element  is  not  extruded, 
however  little  certain  powers  may  be  actually 
exercised.  Yet  there  has  been  much  specialization, 
so  that  ruling  elders  hardly  rank  themselves  with 
ministers  on  the  ground  of  their  common  ordina- 
tion ;  and  their  interests  are  so  local  that  they 
hardly  consider  themselves  a  class  apart  from  their 
fellow-members,  with  a  corporate  life  of  their  own ; 
still  less  do  the  officers  as  such  pursue  systematic- 
ally a  policy  of  extension,  a  policy  which  seems 
closely  linked  with  the  vigour  of  connexionalism. 

In  England,  voluntary  sects  were  unable  to 
organize  till  the  general  relaxation  of  government 
in  1640.  Then  the  General  Baptists,  who  for 
thirty  years  had  been  in  close  contact  with  the 
Waterlanders  of  Amsterdam,  entered  on  a  vigorous 
campaign  of  evangelism.  As  churches  were  gathered 
in  different  parts  of  the  country,  they  were  kept  in 
touch,  and  the  earliest  minutes  that  survive  testify 
to  some  plan  of  organization.  Thus,  thirty  con- 
gregations in  and  near  Leicestershire  and  Lincoln- 
shire sent  delegates  to  a  conference  in  1651,  which 
stated  the  faith  and  order  which  they  held  in 
common  :  in  concise  terms  they  set  forth  that 
gifted  men  are  set  apart  for  preaching,  and  are 
maintained  by  voluntary  gifts.  Five  years  later  a 
'  General  Assembly '  was  held  in  London,  attended 
by  delegates  from  Surrey,  Kent,  Sussex,  Bucks, 
Northants,  and  other  parts.  The  constitution  of 
the  Assembly  is  not  stated,  but  the  minutes  show 
two  classes  of  superior  officers  :  Elders  are  explicitly 
said  to  be  local,  bound  to  serve  their  own  congre- 
gations for  life,  and  having  no  status  in  other 
congregations ;  Messengers  exercise  a  general 
superintendence  over  whole  districts,  but  are 
forbidden  to  choose  other  Messengers  without  the 
unanimous  consent  of  the  Churches.  The  minutes 
are  signed  by  ten  Messengers  and  eight  Elders 
(Brit.  Museum,  Add.  MSS  36709). 

In  1678,  Thomas  Grantham  published  a  folio  on 
primitive  Christianity,  and,  when  expatiating  on 
the  officers  of  the  Christian  Church,  he  put  in  the 
forefront  the  Messengers  or  Apostles,  whose  per- 
manent functions  were  to  succeed  the  original 
Apostles  'as  Travelling  Ministers,  to  plant 
churches,  and  to  settle  those  in  order  who  are 
as  Sheep  without  a  Shepherd.'  These,  like  the 
Bishops  (or  Elders)  and  Deacons,  were  to  be  elected 
by  the  free  choice  of  the  brotherhood  and  then 
ordained ;  and  it  is  expressly  laid  down  that  the 
power  of  ordination  is  not  limited  to  those  who 
were  already  ordained,  but  is  shared  by  all  who 
have  received  the  gifts  of  •  God's  Holy  Spirit. 
Then,  in  discussing  General  Assemblies,  which 
were  proved  to  be  Scriptural,  and  were  therefore 


CONNBXIONALISM 


27 


held  regularly  by  the  General  Baptists,  not  only 
the  Messengers  and  Elders  who  signed  were 
admitted  to  the  meetings,  but  also  any  gifted 
brethren  who  chose  to  attend.  The  office  of 
Messenger  was  evidently  regarded  askance  by 
some.  So,  from  the  analogy  of  Timothy  and 
Titus,  it  was  claimed  by  Grantham  that,  while 
they  had  a  larger  circuit,  had  business  in  many 
rjlaces,  and  so  were  greater  servants  than  the 
faxed  ministers,  yet  they  had  no  jurisdiction  over 
other  bishops  (Grantham,  Ancient  Christian  Re- 
ligion, 186).  Then,  in  a  special  treatise,  Grantham 
showed  that  the  actual  practice  of  the  Brethren 
was  to  'send  forth  Men  to  act  Authoritatively, 
both  in  preaching  to  the  World,  and  setting  things 
in  order  to  remote  Congregations,  to  exercise 
Discipline  by  Excommunication  of  Offenders  and 
remitting  the  Penitent ;  by  ordaining  them  Elders, 
and  dispensing  to  them  the  Holy  Mysteries  or 
Ordinances'  (op.  cit.  160). 

Grantham  wrote  on  his  own  authority  only,  but 
probably  expressed  the  feeling  of  the  Fen  districts 
— Lincoln,  Hunts,  and  Cambridge.  In  the  same 
year  a  meeting  of  the  General  Baptists,  near  Bucks 
and  Oxon,  adopted  a  Confession,  drawn  up  by 
Monk,  another  Messenger,  in  which  Article  xxxix. 
is  very  explicit : 

'  General  Councils,  or  assemblies,  consisting  of  bishops, 
elders,  and  brethren,  of  the  several  churches  of  Christ,  and 
being  legally  convened,  and  met  together  out  of  all  the 
churches,  and  the  churches  appearing  there  by  their  repre- 
sentatives, make  but  one  Church,  and  have  lawful  right  and 
suffrage  in  this  general  meeting  or  assembly,  to  act  in  the 
name  of  Christ,  it  being  of  Divine  authority,  and  is  the  best 
means  under  heaven  to  preserve  unity,  to  prevent  heresy,  and 
superintendence  among  or  in  any  congregation  whatsoever 
within  its  own  limits  or  jurisdiction,'  etc. 
In  a  long  article,  xxxi.,  '  Of  Officers  in  the  Church 
of  Christ,'  we  see  a  slight  difference  of  opinion 
as  to  the  power  of  ordination  : 

The  bishop  or  messenger  is  to  '  be  chosen  thereunto  by  the 
common  suffrage  of  the  Church,  and  solemnly  set  apart  by 
iasting  or  prayer,  with  imposition  of  hands,  by  the  bishops 
of  the  same  function,  ordinarily  ;  and  those  bishops,  so  ordained, 
have  the  government  of  those  churches  that  had  suffrage  in 
their  election,  and  no  other  ordinarily ;  as  also  to  preach  the 
word  or  gospel  to  the  world,  or  unbelievers.  And  the  particular 
pastor,  or  elder,  in  like  manner  is  to  be  chosen  by  the 
common  suffrage  of  the  particular  congregation,  and  ordained 
by  the  bishop  or  messenger  God  hath  placed  in  the  church  he 
hath  charge  of,'  etc.  (Hanserd  Knollys  Society,  Confessions  of 
Faith,  pp.  169, 160). 

When  after  1689  the  organization  comes  into 
full  light,  and  its  records  become  continuous, 
we  find  not  only  this  order  of  Messengers  fully 
rooted  in  the  esteem  of  the  Connexion,  but 
numerous  Associations  established,  each  of  which 
was  supposed  to  have  one  Messenger  at  least, 
while  all  sent  representatives  to  the  General 
Assembly.  As  everything  depended  on  voluntary 
consent,  the  choice  of  a  new  Messenger  was  a 
matter  of  careful  negotiation  between  the  Assembly 
and  the  Association  concerned,  usually  extending 
over  more  than  a  year,  and  generally  the  consent 
was  sought  of  the  church  where  he  was  a  member. 
Ordination  was  by  authority  of  the  Assembly, 
or  of  the  Association  concerned,  and  was  usually 
performed  by  the  existing  Messengers.  In  practice 
the  office  was  maintained  by  voluntary  subscrip- 
tion, which,  however,  was  not  large  enough  to 
free  the  officer  from  the  necessity  of  supporting 
himself,  often  by  manual  labour.  The  Messenger 
usually  resided  for  life  within  his  district,  and 
visited  all  the  churches  there  freely.  The  order 
was  considered  superior  to  the  Eldership,  both 
priority  and  presidency  being  conceded.  But 
there  are  no  signs  that  the  Messengers  ever  met 
together  apart  from  the  Elders  of  local  churches, 
or  that  they  acted  as  a  corporate  body.  The  Elders 
were  so  far  from  any  system  of  itinerancy,  that 
in  1696  it  was  resolved  that  no  Elder  might 
leave  his  own  people  and  be  established  as  Elder 
over  another  people  in  another  place  (T.  Goadby, 


By-paths  of  Baptist  History,  London,  1871,  p.  244). 
The  funds  of  the  Connexion  were  vested  in  lay 
trustees,  on  trusts  so  loosely  expressed  that  the 
Messengers  never  tried  to  assert  any  legal  claim 
to  them.  (The  Minutes  of  Assembly  are  published 
by  the  Baptist  Historical  Society.) 

As  the  Connexion  lost  vitality  during  the  18th 
cent.,  whole  Associations  ceased  to  meet,  and 
therefore  their  Messengers  died  out,  while  the 
local  churches,  in  many  cases,  asserted  their  inde- 
pendence. Then  the  foundation  of  the  New  Con- 
nexion of  General  Baptists  effectually  stopped  the 
revival  of  the  Old  Connexion,  and  attracted  some 
of  its  component  parts.  Yet,  even  at  the  present 
day,  there  are  about  a  score  of  churches,  unobtru- 
sively pursuing  their  way,  with  their  Messengers, 
keeping  up  their  General  Assembly,  and  showing 
still  this  primitive  connexional  system,  though  com- 
pletely devoid  of  that  which  inspires  it,  the  spirit 
of  propagandism. 

In  the  17th  cent,  this  organization  had  been 
copied  and  developed  by  the  Society  of  Friends, 
who  were  also  in  direct  contact  with  the  Dutch 
Mennonite  Connexion  (Barclay,  op.  cit.  342). 
While  a  group  of  local  Friends  formed  a  church 
for  local  purposes,  the  provision-  of  evangelists  was 
clearly  beyond  the  power  of  such  a  group.  At 
first  George  Fox  organized,  then  associations  of 
local  churches  recognized,  ministers  and  certified 
them  as  fit  to  travel ;  these  then  shared  his  re- 
sponsibility, both  gathering  converts  and  organ- 
izing them  into  churches,  even  appointing  the 
first  Elders  (ib.  388).  By  1661  a  regular  Yearly 
Meeting  was  established  in  London  for  the  whole 
Society  (ib.  392).  As  custom  became  settled,  it 
was  agreed  that  the  Travelling  Ministers  were  ex 
officio  members  of  this  Yearly  Meeting,  and  Fox 
even  applied  to  them  the  term  '  Apostles,'  which 
the  General  Baptists  also  had  borrowed  from 
Scripture.  The  other  members  were  to  be  chosen 
by  the  quarterly  meetings  out  of  the  local  Elders, 
but  these  did  not  always  sit  with  the  '  Public 
Labourers'  (ib.  404).  These  Travelling  Ministers 
retained  for  themselves  the  right  to  organize  and 
control  their  own  work  of  evangelization,  which 
fell  entirely  into  their  hands  when  Fox  passed 
away.  They  met  regularly  on  Monday  and 
Sunday  to  arrange  where  they  would  preach ; 
they  discussed  openings  for  new  work,  and  the 
character  of  those  who  wished  to  be  recognized  as 
ministers,  and  they  kept  a  roll  of  their  own  mem- 
bership (ib.  381). 

The  fervour  of  the  age  died  down,  and  propa- 
gandism became  of  less  importance,  so  that  the 
Travelling  Ministers  lost  their  pre-eminence.  In 
1735  the  Yearly  Meeting  forbade  their  meet- 
ing to  control  its  own  membership,  and  within 
twenty  years  they  were  brought  under  the  direc- 
tion of  Mixed  Meetings,  in  which  the  dominant 
element  was  a  new  kind  of  Elder,  whose  main 
business  was  to  administer,  not  to  preach.  Thus, 
with  the  cessation  of  evangelizing  came  the  trans- 
formation from  the  connexional  type  in  the  Society. 
The  pyramidal  series  of  courts  remains,  but  the 
Travelling  Ministers  now  form  a  very  small  element 
in  them,  and  in  the  Society. 

The  general  decay  of  the  18th  cent,  was  met 
by  the  vigorous  evangelism  of  Whitefield  and 
Wesley ;  and,  as  crystallization  took  place,  it 
was  on  the  connexional  system.  In  1744  six 
clergymen  and  five  lay  preachers  met,  and  traced 
the  foundations  of  the  Methodist  polity  ;  forty 
years  later,  Wesley  enrolled  a  deed  in  Chancery 
which  settled  the  government  of  the  Connexion, 
while  in  the  same  year  a  Conference  at  Baltimore 
organized  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in 
America.  The  United  Empire  Loyalists  laid  the 
foundation  of  Methodism  in  Canada,  while  from 


28 


CONNEXIONALISM 


England  other  Methodists  spread  throughout  the 
British  dominions.  Questions  of  Church  polity, 
however,  have  been  fiercely  debated,  and  have  led 
to  many  secessions  in  both  England  and  America, 
which  have  only  partially  been  offset  by  re- 
unions ;  the  very  principle  of  these  secessions  calls 
in  question  the  connexional  scheme.  As  Wesley 
organized  it,  the  body  with  supreme  authority 
in  spiritual  matters  was  a  Conference  of  a  hundred 
ministers.  These,  however,  he  desired  to  act  in 
harmony  with  the  whole  number  of  mutually  re- 
cognized ministers,  and  his  wishes  have  invariably 
been  respected.  Thus  all  questions  of  doctrine,  of 
discipline,  and  of  ministerial  standing  and  employ- 
ment, are  settled  by  the  ministers  in  full  conclave. 
It  was  against  the  exclusion  of  other  members 
that  revolts  chiefly  occurred,  and  the  resulting 
bodies,  such  as  the  Primitive  Methodists  and  the 
United  Methodists,  temper  their  Conferences  with 
laymen  in  at  least  an  equal  proportion.  Even 
the  Wesleyan  Methodists  now  have  a  Representa- 
tive Conference,  with  equal  numbers  of  ministers 
and  laymen  meeting  first  and  dealing  with  all 
matters  of  policy  and  finance.  But  here  it  is  to  be 
noted  that  the  trust  deeds  on  which  chapel  pro- 
perty is  held  ensure  that  the  enjoyment  is  secured 
to  the  ministers  stationed  by  the  Pastoral  Con- 
ference. The  Methodist  Episcopal  Churches  have 
moved  on  similar  lines ;  but  here  the  bishops 
retain  their  exclusive  powers,  and  when  met  as 
a  body  they  define  the  duties  of  each  member. 
While  an  increasing  deference  is  paid  to  local 
wishes,  the  supreme  authority  technically  resides 
in  the  Conference,  and  in  England  at  least  the 
Conferences  regularly  exercise  their  powers.  The 
itinerant  system  is  being  encroached  upon  by 
the  claims  of  central  offices  or  by  the  new  system 
of  Central  Missions,  in  which  continuity  of  service 
is  regarded  as  important.  Wesley's  three  year 
rule  is  also  being  relaxed,  both  in  the  parent  body 
by  ingenious  constructions  of  the  Deed  Poll,  and 
in  the  offshoots  by  open  legislation. 

The  title  of  '  Connexion '  was  adopted  by  other 
bodies,  such  as  the  Calvinistic  Methodists  of  Wales, 
the  Countess  of  Huntingdon's  chaplains,  and  the 
New  Connexion  of  General  Baptists.  Historically 
these  originated  almost  independently  of  one  an- 
other and  of  other  bodies,  and  in  their  gradual 
organization  they  have  profited  by  the  experi- 
ence of  Methodists  and  Presbyterians,  besides 
steadily  rejecting  the  central  feature  of  the  ever- 
present  Episcopal  system  ;  thus  they  have  given 
new  extensions  to  the  term  '  Connexion.' 

The  Leicester  preachers,  who  formed  the  nucleus 
of  the  New  Connexion  of  General  Baptists,  had 
retained  all  power  to  themselves  at  first,  and  so 
had  the  Yorkshire  preachers  who  joined  with  them  ; 
but  soon  the  local  officers  were  associated,  and, 
when  negotiations  were  undertaken  with  the  Lin- 
colnshire churches  of  the  Old  Connexion,  they 
explicitly  repudiated  the  office  of  Messenger  as 
not  of  Divine  institution,  although  they  were  ready 
to  discuss  its  expediency.  The  first  rules  were 
drafted  by  ministers  alone,  who  advised  that  the 
Association  should  be  open  only  to  ministers  and 
elders ;  but  the  separate  churches  made  steady 
efforts  to  secure  local  control  by  the  whole  body 
of  local  members.  Thus  in  1817  their  historian 
summed  up  to  the  effect  that  they  were  in  their 
discipline  strictly  congregational,  that  each  society 
allowed  no  foreign  control  even  from  its  own 
Conferences  or  Association,  and  that  the  rights  of 
church  members  were  sacred  against  the  encroach- 
ments of  their  own  officers  (A.  Taylor,  Hist,  of  Eng. 
Gen.  Baptists,  Lond.  1818,  ii.  468).  In  that  year 
also  the  oasis  of  representation  in  the  Association 
was  settled  on  such  terms  that  the  pastors  were  far 
outnumbered  by  the  lay  delegates.     Twenty  years 


later  a  new  constitution  was  drafted,  but  was 
carefully  emended,  to  ensure  the  independence 
of  the  churches  ;  and  the  united  action  was  reduced 
to  the  consideration  of  cases  referred  spontane- 
ously by  Conferences,  churches,  or  individuals, 
to  the  management  of  the  academy  and  of  some 
publications,  to  the  conduct  of  home  and  foreign 
missions  (J.  H.  Wood,  Hist,  of  the  Baptists,  Lond. 
1847,  p.  278).  Even  as  regards  the  ministry,  the 
advisory  committee  to  report  on  applicants  had 
equal  numbers  of  laymen  and  ministers,  while  the 
ministers  had  no  joint  function  peculiar  to  them- 
selves. When  we  note,  also,  the  disappearance 
of  any  itinerant  system,  it  will  appear  that  the 
mere  name  of  Connexion  survived  the  reality  in 
this  case  ;  and  since  1891,  in  order  to  establish 
more  intimate  relations  with  Baptists  of  another 
school,  the  meetings  of  the  Association  have  been 
reduced  to  a  mere  formal  gathering. 

Similarly,  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon's  Con- 
nexion has  long  ceased  to  show  any  connexional 
vitality,  and  the  methods  of  its  churches  and 
ministers  approximate  to  the  CongTegationalists. 
In  the  Principality,  however,  the  Calvinistic 
Methodists  have  moved  the  other  way,  as  is 
shown  in  their  adoption  of  the  title  '  Presbyterian 
Church  of  Wales ' ;  yet,  while  the  ministers  are 
ordained  only  with  the  approval  of  an  Association, 
and  have  part  of  their  time  claimed  by  the  whole 
body  rather  than  by  the  local  congregation,  there 
is  a  feature  of  Connexionalism  still  discernible. 

Many  mission  fields  present  good  examples  of 
connexional  principles.  Often  the  whole  body  of 
foreign  workers  are  associated  into  a  Synod  or 
Conference,  which  reviews  the  progress  of  the 
band,  decides  on  plans,  and  allots  the  individual 
members  to  their  departments.  Barely,  indeed, 
do  the  native  converts  have  any  voice  at  all  in 
such  a  meeting,  though  a  native  minister  may 
have  a  seat  in  Conference  as  a  worker.  Some- 
times the  decisions  of  the  Conference  are  subject 
to  review  by  a  committee  chosen  by  the  subscribers 
who  defray  the  expenses,  and  by  this  feature  a 
special  complication  is  introduced  into  the  con- 
nexional machinery.  This  power  of  the  purse  is 
one  of  the  most  important  factors  in  the  modifica- 
tion of  Connexionalism.  Not  only  may  a  committee 
sitting  in  Britain  tend  to  regard  the  workers 
abroad  rather  in  the  light  of  civil  servants,  to 
be  moved  about  at  the  will  of  an  ecclesiastical 
Foreign  Office  ;  but  also  in  home  affairs  a  rich 
Methodist  circuit  often  appears  to  obtain  the 
particular  ministers  it  wishes,  even  against  the 
apparent  good  of  the  whole  Connexion.  Yet  this 
same  power  of  the  purse  can  manifestly  be  used  to 
stereotype  connexional  methods  in  the  drawing 
up  of  trust  deeds,  so  that  all  ecclesiastical  property, 
buildings  and  endowments  alike,  can  be  placed 
under  the  control  of  the  Conference  of  workers, 
and  not  of  local  supporters. 

Another  menace  to  Connexionalism,  as  to  all 
other  organizations,  is  the  irrepressible  ambition 
of  some  men  to  wield  power.  In  the  early  days, 
an  outside  autocrat  like  Constantine  was  able  to 
capture  and  transform  the  machinery  of  the 
Church.  For  many  centuries  within  Christian 
circles,  a  steady  claim  to  supremacy  has  been  put 
forth  from  Bome  by  an  oligarchy  of  Pope  and 
cardinals,  who  have  succeeded  in  rendering  nearly 
every  revival  subservient  to  their  concentrated 
rule.  Nor  is  it  needful  to  look  outside  connexional 
circles  :  the  corps  of  ministers  most  readily 
arranges  to  perpetuate  itself,  excluding  the  mass 
of  members  from  all  direct  influence  ;  it  reaches 
out  beyond  the  stationing  and  supervising  of  its 
own  members,  to  the  control  of  all  activity,  on 
which  it  can  at  least  interpose  a  veto.  Such 
encroachments  have  more  than  once  excited  revolt, 


CONSANGUINITY 


29 


and  led  to  the  formation  of  other  bodies  in  which 
such  domination  is  expressly  guarded  against. 
Within  the  body  of  active  self-governing  workers 
there  has  often  arisen  some  commanding  figure, 
whose  actual  influence  extends  far  beyond  the 
nominal  position  he  holds  ;  but  such  a  phenomenon 
is  equally  common  under  any  system  of  manage- 
ment, and  no  such  leader  has  proved  able,  or  even 
desirous,  to  found  a  dynasty  which  may  subvert 
the  general  principles. 

In  estimating  the  permanence  of  the  type,  we 
have  to  bear  in  mind  that  details  of  organization 
are  not  prescribed  in  the  New  Testament,  but  a 
few  principles  are  insisted  upon  as  fundamental. 
None  is  more  urgently  reiterated  than  :  '  All  ye  are 
brethren  ;  o*.ie  is  your  Master,  even  the  Christ.' 
Again,  the  primary  object  of  the  Church  is 
svangelization :  Go  everywhere,  tell  all  peoples, 
enlist  the  converts,  instruct  them  in  the  ways  of 
Christ ;  such  are  the  purposes  for  which  the 
Church  was  called  into  being.  Propagandism  and 
brotherhood  are  thus  to  be  inwrought  in  any 
scheme.  Now,  as  a  matter  of  history,  every 
great  revival  of  religion  has  been  marked  by  an 
appreciation  of  these  elements,  and  has  fashioned 
its  machinery  on  somewhat  connexional  lines. 
True,  the  Franciscans  were  brought  under  the 
control  of  the  Curia,  but  the  very  struggle  against 
this,  and  the  rapid  degeneracy  from  the  spirit 
of  Francis,  show  the  natural  relation  of  Con- 
nexionalism  to  these  principles,  so  that  the  dis- 
appearance of  the  one  imperils  the  existence  of 
the  other.  Similarly  the  transformation  of  the 
connexional  type  among  the  old  General  Baptists 
and  the  Friends  reflects  the  decay  of  the  spirit 
of  propaganda  in  those  bodies.  But  the  great 
Methodist  Churches,  with  their  firm  grasp  on  the 
evangelistic  purpose  of  their  existence,  and  their 
warm  fraternity,  hold  fast  to  the  connexional 
system  as  the  best  embodiment  of  their  principles. 
And  whenever  a  revival  takes  place,  even  on 
a  microscopic  scale,  it  seems  natural  that  those 
who  are  actively  concerned  shall  meet  simply  as 
brethren  to  consult  and  arrange  mutually  as  to 
the  division  of  labour. 

Literature. — E.  Hatch,  Organization  of  the  Early  Christian 
Churches,  London,  1888 ;  A.  V.  G.  Alien,  Christian  Institu- 
tions, Edinburgh,  1898 ;  K.  Kautsky,  Communism  in  Central 
Europe  in  the  Time  of  the  Reformation,  London,  1897 ;  R. 
Barclay,  Inner  Life  of  the  Religious  Societies  of  the  Common- 
wealth2,  London,  1877 ;  T.  Grantham,  Christianismus  Primi- 
tivus,  or  the  Ancient  Christian  Religion,  London,  1678 ;  A.  H. 
Newman,  Manual  of  Church  History,  Philadelphia,  2  vols., 
1900-3 ;  Consolidated  Rules  of  the  Primitive  Methodist  Con- 
nexion, London,  1902  ;  Wesleyan  Annual  Minutes  of  Conference, 
London ;  World  Missionary  Conference,  '  The  Church  in  the 
Mission  Field,'  Edinburgh,  1910.  W.  T.  WHITLEY. 

CONSANGUINITY.— By  'consanguinity'  is 
meant  blood-relationship,  and  more  particularly, 
close  blood-relationship.  When  we  speak  of  a 
consanguineous  union,  we  mean  that  the  two  organ- 
isms are  near  relatives  ;  when  we  speak  of  a  high 
degree  of  consanguinity  in  a  herd  or  in  a  com- 
munity, we  mean  that  there  has  been  much  in- 
breeding or  endogamy.  It  is  desirable  to  know 
what  the  biological  facts  are  in  regard  to  the 
results  of  the  sex-union  of  closely  consanguineous 
organisms,  but  it  must  be  admitted  that  clear-cut 
facts  are  few.  It  should  also  be  noted  that,  as  the 
range  of  living  creatures  expresses  a  very  long 
gamut,  we  must  be  very  careful  in  arguing  from 
one  level  to  another.  What  is  normal  and  ap- 
parently wholesome  at  one  grade  of  organization 
may  not  be  desirable  at  another. 

It  seems  to  have  been  securely  established  that 
some  hermaphrodite  animals  habitually  fertilize 
their  own  eggs.  This  autogamy  has  been  proved 
in  some  tapeworms  and  nukes — not  auspicious 
illustrations ;  it  seems  sometimes  to  occur  in  the 
freshwater    hydra    and    a    few   other    free-living 


animals.  There  are  numerous  self-fertilizing 
flowers,  though  there  is  no  case  known  where 
cross-fertilization  is  impossible.  It  may  also  be 
that  one  hermaphrodite  liver-fluke  sometimes 
inseminates  another,  so  that  the  habitual  autogamy 
may  be  interrupted.  In  the  great  majority  of 
hermaphrodite  animals,  such  as  earthworms  and 
snails,  cross-fertilization  is  the  invariable  rule.  It 
is  also  relevant  to  recall  the  fact  that  in  many  of 
the  small  Crustaceans,  in  many  Rotifers,  and  in 
some  insects,  such  as  Aphides,  there  may  be  long- 
continued  parthenogenesis — generation  succeeding 
generation  without  loss  of  vitality,  although  the 
eggs  develop  without  any  fertilization.  In  soma 
of  the  Rotifers  the  males  are  still  undiscovered ; 
Reaumur  kept  Aphides  breeding  parthenoge- 
netically  for  over  three  years  (50  consecutive 
generations),  and  Weismann  kept  females  of  a 
common  water  flea  {Cypris  reptans)  breeding  in 
the  same  way  for  eight  years.  This  shows  that 
at  certain  levels  of  organization  a  vigorous  life 
may  be  kept  up  for  many  generations,  not  only 
without  any  introduction  of  'fresh  blood,'  but 
without  the  presence  of  any  males. 

A  number  of  careful  experiments  have  been 
made  on  in-breeding,  but  there  is  imperative  need 
for  more.  Weismann  in-bred  mice  for  twenty-nine 
generations,  and  his  assistant  Von  Guaita  continued 
the  experiment  for  seven  more  generations,  but 
the  only  notable  general  result  was  a  reduction  of 
the  fertility  by  about  thirty  per  cent.  Some 
experimenters,  such  as  Crampe,  have  found  that 
the  in-breeding  of  rats  resulted  in  disease  and 
abnormality,  but  this  was  not  observable  in  the 
equally  careful  experiments  of  Ritzema-Bos.  He 
in-bred  rats  for  thirty  generations ;  for  the  first 
four  years  (twenty  generations)  there  was  almost 
no  reduction  in  fertility  ;  after  that  there  was  a 
very  marked  decrease  of  fertility,  an  increase  in 
the  rate  of  mortality,  and  a  diminution  of  size. 
These  and  other  experiments  on  mammals,  though 
insufficient  to  be  satisfactory  as  a  basis  for  generali- 
zation, suggest  that  very  close  in-breeding  may  be 
continued  for  many  generations  without  any 
observable  evil  effects,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
there  are  limits  beyond  which  in-breeding  becomes 
disadvantageous.  It  is  certain  that,  if  there  be 
well-defined  hereditary  predisposition  to  disease  in 
the  stock,  then  in-breeding  soon  spells  ruin. 

'  Extensive  experiments  by  Castle  and  others 
[see  Proc.  Amer.  Acad.  xli.  731-786]  on  the  in- 
breeding of  the  pomace -fly  (Drosophila  ampelophila) 
led  to  the  general  result  that  "  inbreeding  probably 
reduces  very  slightly  the  productiveness  of  Droso- 
phila, but  the  productiveness  may  be  fully  main- 
tained under  constant  inbreeding  (brother  and 
sister)  if  selection  be  made  from  the  more  productive 
families'"  (J.  A.  Thomson,  Heredity,  1908,  p.  393). 

Some  of  the  histories  of  domesticated  breeds  are 
so  well  recorded  that  they  may  be  ranked  as 
carefully-conducted  experiments,  and  it  seems  that 
some  very  successful  breeds  of  cattle — such  as 
Polled  Angus — have  in  their  early  stages  of  estab- 
lishment involved  extremely  close  in-breeding. 
When  we  examine  the  pedigree  of  famous  bulls 
and  stallions,  we  find  in  some  cases  an  extra- 
ordinarily close  consanguinity.  Valuable  results 
have  often  been  attained  by  using  the  same  stallion 
repeatedly  on  successive  generations. 

From  breeding  experiments  four  general  results 
seem  to  be  clear  :  (1)  that  progressive  results  have 
usually  followed  mating  within  a  narrow  range  of 
relationship ;  (2)  that  close  in-breeding  has  a 
great  utility  in  fixing  characters  or  developing 
'  prepotency ' ;  (3)  that  close  in-breeding  may  go 
far  without  any  injurious  effect  on  physique  ;  and 
(4)  that,  if  there  be  any  morbid  idiosyncrasy,  close 
in-breeding  tends  to  perpetuate  and  augment  it. 


30 


CONSCIENCE 


Darwin  paid  much  attention  to  the  question  of 
in-breeding  (see  Variation  of  Animals  and  Plants 
under  Domestication  [London,  1868],  etc.),  and  his 
genera]  conclusions  were : 

(1)  '  The  consequences  of  close  interbreeding  carried  on  for 
too  long  a  time  are,  as  is  generally  believed,  loss  of  size, 
constitutional  vigour,  and  fertility,  sometimes  accompanied  by  a 
tendency  to  malformation.'  (2) '  The  evil  effects  from  close  inter- 
breeding are  difficult  to  detect,  for  they  accumulate  slowly  and 
differ  much  in  degree  in  different  species,  whilst  the  good  effects 
which  almost  invariably  follow  a  cross  are  from  the  first 
manifest.'  (3)  '  It  should,  however,  be  clearly  understood  that 
the  advantage  of  close  interbreeding,  as  far  as  the  retention  of 
character  is  concerned,  is  indisputable,  and  often  outweighs 
the  evil  of  a  slight  loss  of  constitutional  vigour.' 

From  his  researches  on  flowering  plants,  Darwin 
concluded  that  there  was  '  something  injurious ' 
connected  with  self-fertilization  ;  and  although  he 
came  to  recognize  that  self-fertilization  was  more 
frequent  and  more  successful  than  he  had  at  first 
believed,  he  adhered  on  the  whole  to  the  aphorism, 
'  Nature  abhors  perpetual  self-fertilization. '  In 
his  book  on  Cross  and  Self  Fertilisation  (1876), 
however,  he  says:  'If  the  word  "perpetual"  had 
been  omitted,  the  aphorism  would  have  been  false. 
As  it  stands,  I  believe  that  it  is  true,  though 
perhaps  rather  too  strongly  expressed.'  The  fact 
is  that  self-fertilization  in  flowers  is  for  the  most 
part  relatively,  and  not  absolutely,  injurious. 

In  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge,  it  seems 
fair  to  say  that  there  is  little  biological  evidence 
to  show  that  there  is  anything  necessarily  dis- 
advantageous or  dangerous  in  close  consanguineous 
unions.  These  seem  often  to  occur  in  nature  in 
isolated  and  restricted  areas,  and  they  are  frequent 


in  successful  breeding.  It  must  be  admitted  that 
evil  effects  sometimes  follow  prolonged  consan- 
guineous pairing  in  the  artificial  conditions  of  stock- 
breeding,  but  it  must  not  be  hastily  inferred  that 
these  evil  effects  are  necessarily  due  to  the  consan- 
guinity. There  may  be  persistence  of  unwhole- 
some conditions  of  life  which  have  a  cumulative 
evil  effect  as  generation  succeeds  generation,  or 
there  may  be  some  organic  taint  in  the  early 
members  of  the  stock  which  becomes  aggravated, 
just  as  a  desirable  organic  peculiarity  may  be 
enhanced. 

Bateson  expresses  the  view  of  most  biologists 
when  he  says : 

*  It  should  perhaps  be  pointed  out  categorically  that  nothing 
in  our  present  knowledge  can  be  taken  with  any  confidence  as 
a  reason  for  regarding  consanguineous  marriages  as  improper 
or  specialty  dangerous.  All  that  can  be  said  is  that  such 
marriages  give  extra  chances  of  the  appearances  of  recessive 
characteristics  among  the  offspring.  Some  of  these  are  doubt- 
less bad  qualities,  but  we  do  not  yet  know  that  among  the 
recessives  there  may  not  be  valuable  qualities  also '  (Menders 
Principles  of  Heredity,  new  ed.,  London,  1909,  p.  226). 

When  we  take  into  account  such  evidence  as 
there  is  from  animals  and  from  plants,  and  such 
studies  as  those  of  Huth  {Marriage  of  Near  Kin s, 
1887),  and  the  instances  and  counter-instances  of 
communities  with  a  high  degree  of  consanguinity, 
we  are  led  to  the  conclusion  that  the  prejudices  and 
laws  of  many  peoples  against  the  marriage  of  near 
kin  rest  on  a  basis  not  so  much  biological  as  social. 

See  Marriage. 

Literature. — The  literature  has  been  given  throughout  the 
art.,  but  see  also  under  Marriage. 

J.  Arthur  Thomson. 


CONSCIENCE. 


Introductory  (J.  H.  Hyslop),  p.  30. 
Babylonian  (T.  G.  Pinches),  p.  33. 
Egyptian  (G.  Foucart),  p.  34. 

CONSCIENCE.— The  term  'conscience'  is  de- 
rived from  the  Lat.  conscientia,  which  meant  origin- 
ally '  joint  knowledge,'  or  the  knowledge  which  we 
share  with  others.  It  soon  came  to  denote,  how- 
ever, what  we  mean  by  concomitant  knowledge, 
that  is,  consciousness  or  self-consciousness,  and 
only  in  later  literature  had  it  the  meaning  which 
we  attach  to  '  conscience.'  Even  then  it  was  not 
exactly  what  we  mean  by  it  as  the  arbiter  and 
motive  power  in  right  and  wrong.  The  Greek 
equivalent  of  Lat.  conscientia  was  avvd5nai.s.  This 
was  in  use  by  Plato  and  the  Stoics,  and  denoted 
joint  knowledge,  and  with  the  Stoics  it  also  denoted 
the  knowledge  of  right  and  wrong.  In  Cicero 
conscientia  can  often  he  translated  indifferently 
'  conscience '  or  '  consciousness. '  It  is  the  same 
with  the  French  term  conscience. 

It  is  more  distinctively  in  modern  times  that  a 
radical  difference  is  marked  between  the  idea  of 
consciousness  and  that  of  conscience.  Conscious- 
ness with  us  is  a  purely  intellectual  function,  a 
generic  term  for  the  phenomena  of  mind,  or  for 
that  concomitant  act  of  mind  which  Hamilton  has 
well  called  the  '  complement  of  the  cognitive 
energies.'  '  Conscience  is  a  term  with  a  moral 
import,  though  complicated  with  the  intellectual, 
and  implies  an  emotional  content  at  the  same  time. 
'  Consciousness '  is  thus  a  term  for  Psychology,  and 
'conscience'  one  for  Ethics,  with  the  distinction, 
however,  that  consciousness  is  implied  in  the  pro- 
blems of  Ethics,  while  conscience  is  not  necessarily 
so  implied  in  those  of  Psychology.  '  Conscience ' 
is  thus  a  name  for  the  function  of  distinguishing 
between  right  and  wrong,  and  of  enforcing  the  one 
or  preventmg  the  other.  The  difference  between 
the  ancient  and  the  modern  conception  of  it  is 
determined  by  the  difference  between  their  ideas 
of  morality,  and  may  be  said  to  reflect  the  whole 


Greek  and  Roman  (W.  H.  S.  Jones),  p.  37. 
Jewish  (M.  Gaster),  p.  41. 
Muslim  (D.  S.  Margoliouth),  p.  46. 

difference  between  their  ethical  and  religious 
civilizations.  The  morality  of  antiquity,  in  so  far 
as  it  was  a  subject  of  reflexion,  hardly  got  beyond 
the  conception  of  prudence — except,  perhaps,  with 
the  Stoics.  That  of  modern  times  involves  the  idea 
of  duty  or  devotion  to  a  law  which  may  require  sacri- 
fice. There  is  no  doubt  a  perfect  reconciliation 
between  these  two  points  of  view  when  we  come  to 
make  a  concrete  examination  of  the  facts  to  which 
they  are  supposed  to  apply ;  but  in  their  abstract 
formulae  they  seem  opposed  to  each  other.  In  its 
conception  of  rational  conduct  antiquity  sacrificed 
a  proximate  to  a  remoter  interest ;  modern  ideas 
assume  to  deny  all  interest  or  happiness,  and  to 
demand  unswerving  obedience  to  law.  But  when 
this  is  carefully  scrutinized  it  often  turns  out  to  be 
a  sacrifice  of  the  interests  of  the  present  life  to  a 
remoter  interest  in  a  life  to  come.  The  Christian 
system  was  the  originator  of  the  phrases  which 
came  to  express  inflexible  obedience  to  duty ;  but 
this  system  was  based  on  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  and  on  the  rewards  and  punishments  appor- 
tioned to  the  nature  of  one's  conduct  in  this  life. 
Hence,  when  its  moral  conceptions  are  subjected 
to  analysis,  they  do  not  differ  absolutely  in  kind 
from  those  of  antiquity,  but  they  take  two  worlds 
into  account  where  the  ancient  took  only  one, 
namely,  the  present  world.  The  difference,  so  far 
as  it  is  a  difference,  was  between  a  materialistic 
and  a  spiritualistic  view  of  the  present  life,  and 
also  between  merely  intelligent  action  and  such 
action  as  involved  duty  with  personal  sacrifice. 

The  difficulty  of  comparing  our  modern  concep- 
tion of  conscience  with  that  of  the  ancients  is 
apparent  in  the  philosophy  of  Plato.  Though  he 
used  the  etymological  equivalent  of  the  modern 
term  'conscience,'  this  was  not  the  term  for  one 
of    the    main    functions    of    conscience   with    us. 


CONSCIENCE 


31 


'  Reason '  was  the  function  which  did  service  for 
conscience,  and  even  this  was  not  the  motive 
agency  in  the  direction  of  the  will,  but  the  guide 
for  other  influences.  The  myth  of  the  chariot  with 
the  two  steeds  represents  Plato's  conception  of  the 
moral  nature.  Plato's  distinction  was  between 
'  rational '  and  '  irrational '  conduct,  by  which  he 
meant  the  distinction  between  intelligent  and 
ignorant  conduct.  Irrational  action  was  under  the 
influence  of  desire  and  passion,  two  unruly  steeds 
which  in  their  behaviour  never  looked  before  and 
after,  but  rushed  into  action  without  delibera- 
tion or  reflexion.  Reason  was  the  charioteer  whose 
function  it  was  to  direct  these  two  steeds  or  im- 
pulses towards  an  end  which  represented  know- 
ledge of  what  the  subject  does,  instead  of  blind 
passion.  In  this  conception,  however,  reason  fur- 
nishes light  but  not  power.  The  motive  agency 
was  in  the  desires  and  passions,  and  reason  only 
gave  counsel  or  directed  them,  without  providing 
any  other  end  than  these  impulses  offered.  It  took 
a  more  spiritual  age  to  supply  an  end  which  was 
distinct  from  that  of  sense  and  passion,  and  so  to 
modify  the  conception  which  gave  rise  to  the  more 
modern  idea  of  conscience.  The  distinction  between 
right  and  wrong  with  Plato,  and,  for  that  matter, 
with  all  Greece,  was  that  between  the  prudent  and 
the  imprudent,  between  what  was  best  for  the 
individual  and  what  was  injurious  to  him,  and  the 
judge  of  this  was  intelligence,  not  conscience  in 
our  use  of  the  term.  The  nearest  conception  to 
ours  was  the  Stoic  obedience  to  law,  a  law  too 
which  sacrificed  the  impulses  and  started  the 
reflective  mind  towards  the  later  Christian  doc- 
trine. But  it  was  still  an  appeal  to  reason,  and 
tried  to  reconcile  its  opposition  to  passion  by  insist- 
ing upon  traditional  ethics  in  details.  But  other 
Greek  thinkers  conceived  reason  as  the  director, 
not  the  commander,  of  the  impulses,  and  so  the 
Greek  point  of  view  was  not  that  of  the  supremacy 
of  conscience,  but  the  supremacy  of  reason,  thus 
making  prudence  instead  of  law  its  standard  of 
morality.  The  emotional  element  of  conscience 
the  ancients  did  not  recognize.  The  influence 
which  introduced  this  factor  into  the  conception 
was  partly  the  Christian  idea  of  sacrifice,  and  partly 
the  idea  of  respect  for  an  inner  law  of  life  and 
conduct,  suggested  by  the  Stoic  ethics,  and  made 
effective  in  the  Christian  system  by  the  necessity 
of  eschewing  politics.  This  conception  was  ex- 
plicitly formulated  in  later  thought,  and  especially 
in  the  ethics  of  Immanuel  Kant,  as  represented 
in  his  '  categorical  imperative,'  an  unbending 
sense  of  duty,  regardless,  in  some  thinkers,  of 
all  consequences,  and  in  others  of  pleasure  and 
pain.  Here  it  denotes  not  only  the  consciousness 
of  moral  distinctions,  but  also  an  impelling  motive 
or  influence  towards  the  execution  of  the  right  and 
the  evasion  of  the  wrong. 

The  Furies,  or  Erinyes  (q.v.),  are  often  regarded  as  mythologi- 
cal representations  of  the  Greek  idea  of  conscience.  But  this 
interpretation  of  them  is  due  to  certain  analogies  with  the  more 
modern  conception  of  remorse  as  a  punishment  for  sin  inflicted 
by  conscience  on  the  transgressor.  The  Furies  were  not  inner 
monitors,  but  external  agencies  punishing  the  individual  for  the 
violations  ofthe  moral  law.  Remorse  is  an  inner  punisher.  In 
the  rationalistic  stage  of  Greek  reflexion  there  was  a  tendency 
on  the  part  of  some  thinkers  to  give  a  subjective  interpretation 
to  the  idea  of  the  Erinyes,  but  this  never  availed  to  suggest  to 
them  the  modern  idea  of  conscience  as  a  distinct  function  of  the 
mind.  There  was  no  tendency  in  Greek  thought  to  combine 
the  ideas  of  reason,  self-consciousness,  and  penitence  for  sin  so 
as  to  form  the  complex  idea  which  has  done  so  much  service  in 
modern  times.  The  consciousness  of  sin  was  not  a  character- 
istic of  the  Greek  mind. 

It  was  the  general  character  of  Christianity  that 
gave  rise  to  the  new  conception  of  conscience,  and 
this  was  because  it  created  a  new  morality.  The 
Greek  never  got  away  from  the  secular  view  of 
things.  Whatever  his  talk  about  the  Divine,  he 
assoijftted  it  with  the  sesthetic  and  political  view 


of  the  world  ;  his  ethical  interests  were  confined  to 
the  present  life  and  its  joys.  But  Christianity 
extended  the  horizon  of  human  hope  beyond  the 
present,  and  created  the  brotherhood  of  man,  a  new 
social  feeling  and  interest.  At  the  same  time  it 
brought  a  doctrine  of  personal  salvation,  based  upon 
the  idea  that  the  present  life  was  a  probation  for  a 
better,  and  that  man's  only  hope  of  happiness  in  the 
next  life  was  his  conformity  to  duty  here.  With 
this  new  social  ideal,  the  extension  of  man's  horizon 
of  hope,  and  the  strenuousness  of  his  conception  of 
duty  and  limited  probation,  the  idea  of  morality 
was  formed  with  a  direct  reference  to  a  spiritual  as 
opposed  to  a  material  or  carnal  world.  Morality 
was  conceived  as  possibly  demanding  a  sacrifice 
of  all  that  the  Greet  mind  valued  in  life,  namely, 
the  world  of  sense,  or  the  intellectual  world  of 
speculation — which  was  only  the  grosser  sense- world 
a  little  refined.  The  transfer  of  happiness  to  a 
spiritual  world  forced  morality  to  neglect  that  end 
here,  and  gave  a  very  abstract  meaning  to  duty. 
It  also  laid  so  much  stress  on  the  moral  law,  and  so 
little  on  mere  intellectual  culture,  that  morality 
became  the  important  characteristic  of  the  man 
who  was  to  be  saved  ;  that  is  to  say,  his  morality 
and  not  his  wisdom  saved  him.  This,  too,  was 
the  consequence  of  the  democratic  as  opposed  to 
the  aristocratic  view  of  social  relations  involved. 
In  all,  however,  it  substituted  moral  for  intellec- 
tual virtues,  and  started  civilization  on  a  new 
tack,  which  was  to  make  conscience  more  im- 
portant than  culture,  while  it  gave  a  larger  con- 
tent to  the  conception  of  man's  moral  nature.  As 
conduct  rather  than  knowledge  came  to  be  the 
condition  of  salvation,  the  idea  of  conscience  took 
root  as  the  most  important  part  of  man's  constitu- 
tion, and  it  was  appealed  to  not  only  to  secure 
individual  salvation,  mit  also  as  the  characteristic 
in  man  which  reflected  his  lineage  with  the  Divine. 

The  early  Fathers  defined  conscience  as  the 
director  of  man's  spiritual  nature,  and  the  dis- 
tinguisher  between  right  and  wrong.  Apparently 
not  until  Descartes  did  it  take  on  the  special  im- 
port of  an  inner  faculty  to  punish  the  soul  for  its 
sins.  The  function  of  remorse  was  recognized  long 
before,  but  it  took  philosophic  reflexion  to  intro- 
duce the  idea  into  the  scholastic  conception  of  con- 
science. The  same  conception  prevails  in  Spinoza. 
But  this  is  entirely  altered  when  we  come  to  Kant. 
He  identifies  conscience  with  the  function  of  the 
'  categorical  imperative,'  or  sense  of  duty.  Con- 
science, he  says,  is  not  the  product  of  experience, 
but  an  inherited  or  original  capacity  of  the  soul, 
and  is  identical  with  the  law  of  duty.  This  was 
equally  a  departure  from  the  ancient  idea  that  it 
was  an  intellectual  function,  and  from  the  Cartesian 
idea  that  it  was  the  after-emotion  of  the  soul  in 
regard  to  conduct.  It  was  not,  with  Kant,  a 
faculty  of  judgment  determining  means  to  end,  or 
deciding  when  any  particular  course  was  right  or 
wrong,  but  the  faculty  which  impelled  the  right 
attitude  of  mind  towards  any  course  which  the  judg- 
ment made  right  or  wrong.  The  consequence  was 
that  conscience  was  convertible  with  the  inner  sense 
of  duty  or  the  compulsory  nature  of  the  moral  law. 

Bishop  Butler's  view  preceded  that  of  Kant 
historically,  but  was  much  the  same  as  that  of  the 
great  German.  It  did  not  have  the  same  develop- 
ment, but  it  reflected  the  logical  consequence  of 
the  age  toward  this  view.  Butler  expounds  his 
conception  of  conscience  in  his  Sermons,  which  are 
an  analysis  of  human  nature.  There  is  a  tendency 
to  emphasize  the  emotional  element,  but  the  intel- 
lectual is  admitted  as  essential  to  it.     He  says  : 

'  There  is  a  principle  of  reflection  in  men,  by  which  they  dis- 
tinguish between,  approve  and  disapprove  their  own  actionB. 
We  are  plainly  constituted  such  sort  of  creatures  as  to  reflect 
upon  our  own  nature.  The  mind  can  take  a  view  of  what  passes 
within  itself,  its  propensions,  aversions,  passions,  affections,  as 


32 


CONSCIENCE 


respecting  such  objects,  and  in  such  degrees  ;  and  of  the  several 
actions  consequent  thereupon.  In  this  survey  it  approves  of 
one,  disapproves  of  another,  and  towards  a  third  is  affected  in 
neither  of  these  ways,  but  is  quite  indifferent.  This  principle 
in  man,  by  which  he  approves  or  disapproves  his  heart,  temper, 
and  actions,  is  conscience  '  (Serm.  i.  §  7  f.). 

He  is  careful  subsequently  to  insist  that  the 
function  involves  'reflexion,'  and  distinguishes  it 
from  the  appetencies  or  natural  affections,  as  the 
agency  which  can  give  their  promptings  stability 
and  rationality.  The  conception  at  this  point 
takes  on  some  resemblance  to  that  of  Plato,  with 
additions  from  the  course  of  Christian  develop- 
ment. But  in  completing  his  conception  of  it  he 
assigns  a  supremacy  to  conscience  which  is  based 
not  on  its  power  but  on  its  right  to  prior  judg- 
ment in  questions  of  right  and  wrong. 

'  Thus,'  he  saj'S,  '  that  principle,  by  which  we  survey,  and 
either  approve  or  disapprove  our  own  heart,  temper,  and  actions, 
is  not  only  to  be  considered  as  what  is  in  its  turn  to  have  some 
influence ;  which  may  be  said  of  every  passion,  of  the  lowest 
appetites :  but  likewise  as  being  superior ;  as  from  its  very 
nature  manifestly  claiming  superiority  over  all  others — inso- 
much that  you  cannot  form  a  notion  of  this  faculty,  conscience, 
without  taking  in  judgment,  direction,  superintendency.  This 
is  a  constituent  part  of  the  idea,  that  is,  of  the  faculty  itself : 
and,  to  preside  and  govern,  from  the  very  economy  and  con- 
stitution of  man,  belongs  to  it.  Had  it  strength,  as  it  has 
right ;  had  it  power,  as  it  has  manifest  authority ;  it  would 
absolutely  govern  the  world  '  (Serm.  ii.  §  19). 

In  respect  of  the  idea  of  authority,  this  view  is 
strikingly  like  that  of  Kant,  but  it  contains  an 
element  of  judgment  and  emotional  attitude  after 
the  act  which  does  not  appear  to  make  a  part  of 
Kant's  conception.  Kant  starts  with  a  law  of 
rational  action  which  is  to  hold  good  for  all  rational 
beings,  and  makes  this  an  imperative  duty  which 
is  to  regulate  conduct  without  regard  to  con- 
sequences or  external  relations  and  conditions. 
External  deeds  are  with  him  neither  good  nor  bad. 
The  only  good  or  bad  thing  in  the  world  is  a  good 
or  bad  will,  and  any  will  governed  by  the  '  cate- 
gorical imperative,'  or  sense  of  duty,  is  moral, 
regardless  of  what  the  external  act  is.  One  does 
not  need  to  know  the  means  to  an  end  or  to  reflect 
on  consequences  in  order  to  be  virtuous  in  this 
conception.  Neither  the  amount  of  intelligence  or 
wisdom  nor  the  after-emotional  effects  of  approval 
or  disapproval  have  anything  to  do  with  virtue,  but 
only  the  right  attitude  of  the  will  and  reverence 
for  the  law.  The  motive  or  mere  sense  of  duty 
was  sufficient  to  determine  the  whole  character  of 
conduct,  and  this  motive  constituted  the  nature  of 
conscience. 

Both  these  schools  or  tendencies  resulted  in  the 
conception  that  conscience  is  a  simple  and  unique 
faculty  of  the  mind.  This  was  especially  indicated 
in  the  simplicity  of  its  function  in  the  Kantian 
system,  and  in  the  view  that  it  was  not  a  product 
of  experience,  and  with  the  English  thinkers  it  was 
further  favoured  by  the  emphasis  placed  upon  its 
presence  in  man  as  an  evidence  of  the  Divine.  The 
Kantian  argument  for  immortality  and  the  exist- 
ence of  God  pointed  in  a  similar  direction,  as  it 
rested  on  the  moral  nature  of  man.  Both  schools 
treated  conscience  as  an  implanted  power  and 
not  the  result  of  experience,  and  accordingly  their 
conception  came  into  conflict  with  the  implica- 
tions of  the  doctrine  of  evolution.  This  theory 
attempted  to  derive  conscience  from  various  ele- 
ments in  man's  social  nature,  and  refused  to  regard 
it  as  an  implanted  and  unique  faculty  of  the  mind. 
The  controversy  between  the  two  schools  was  made 
clear  by  the  relation  of  the  idea  of  conscience  to 
the  theistic  interpretation  of  the  cosmos.  The  last 
resource  of  the  theologian  for  the  proof  of  a  Divine 
existence  had  been  the  unique  and  moral  character 
of  conscience.  Evolution  had  assumed  that  it  had 
proved  its  claims  in  all  other  matters,  and  was 
reluctant  to  make  an  exception  of  conscience.  It 
was  only  natural  that  it  should  so  treat  the 
question,  and  it  was  unfortunate  for  the  theistic 


view  of  things  that  it  seemed  to  stake  its  claims 
on  the  integrity  of  its  argument  regarding  the 
origin  of  conscience. 

This  controversy,  however,  is  not  the  best  setting 
for  the  consideration  of  conscience.  We  should 
first  see  what  we  think  it  is  as  a  fact,  and  we  can 
then  discuss  its  origin.  The  tendency  since  the  rise 
of  the  controversy  has  been  to  consider  conscience 
not  as  a  unique  or  simple  faculty,  but  as  a  com- 
plexus  of  mental  phenomena  organized  with  refer- 
ence to  moral  ends.  Instead  of  being  made  a  separ- 
ate faculty — the  '  faculty '  Psychology  having  been 
abandoned — it  is  considered  as  the  -mind  occupied 
with  moral  phenomena.  This  enables  us  to  conceive 
it  as  the  organization  of  all  that  intelligence  and 
feeling  which  are  connected  with  the  actions  called 
moral  or  immoral.  There  was  an  approximation 
to  this  view  in  the  conception  of  Butler,  but  it 
was  concealed  by  the  prevailing  interest  in  other 
questions.  But,  taking  conscience  as  a  complex 
instead  of  a  simple  function,  the  present  writer 
would  recognize  three  general  elements  in  it : 
(1)  The  intellectual  or  cognitive  element,  which  is 
concerned  with  the  perception  of  the  means  to 
ends,  and  the  fact  of  some  end  which  we  agree  to 
call  the  good  as  distinct  from  the  merely  true. 
Other  mental  functions  are  called  in  to  estimate 
what  shall  be  the  good  as  distinct  from  the  true, 
but  the  intellectual  judgment  and  perceptions  are 
involved  in  determining  both  the  fact  of  this  ideal 
and  the  necessary  means  to  its  realization,  and  on 
these  means  rests  a  part  of  the  judgment  of  right 
and  wrong.  In  fact,  right  and  wrong  hardly  have 
any  meaning  without  this  conception  of  means  to 
ends.  (2)  The  emotional  element,  which  is  prim- 
arily the  valuation  of  facts  and  things  in  relation 
to  our  welfare,  whether  they  represent  retrospective 
or  prospective  feelings.  Hence  they  divide  into  what 
we  shall  call  the  judicial  and  the  legislative  feel- 
ings. The  judicial  feeling  represents  the  approval 
or  disapproval  of  self  or  actions  in  their  relation  to 
the  moral  law.  The  legislative  feeling  is  the  sense 
of  duty,  or  'categorical  imperative,' and  commands 
obedience  as  the  retrospective  feelings  pass  judg- 
ment on  acts  already  done.  (3)  The  desiderative 
element,  or  that  mental  state  which  may  be  called 
reverence,  good-will,  or  conscientiousness,  and  is  re- 
presentative of  respect  for  law,  where  the  sense  of 
duty  represents  a  sense  of  compulsion  often  against 
the  desires.  The  highest  condition  of  conscience 
is  that  in  which  respect  for  law  is  substituted  for 
the  imperative  which  feels  a  struggle  against 
natural  desire. 

These  various  elements  will  include  all  the 
social  instincts  which  figure  so  prominently  in  the 
theories  of  Darwin  and  Spencer  and  the  evolu- 
tionists generally.  The  important  point,  however, 
is  that  they  show  the  moral  nature  or  conscience 
to  be  complex  and  not  simple.  The  view  solves 
some  perplexities  in  the  evolutionist  controversy. 
The  difficulty  proposed  by  the  older  view,  in  its 
effort  to  utilize  the  distinction  between  man  and 
the  animal  in  respect  of  morality,  was  that  evolu- 
tion could  not  account  for  this  new  increment  in  the 
process  of  creating  man,  and  that,  since  it  was  not 
derived  from  anything  like  it  in  previous  organic 
life  from  which  man  was  supposed  to  be  developed 
physically,  a  special  creative  act  was  necessary  to 
account  for  it  in  man.  But  with  the  analysis  of 
conscience  into  elements  which  may  be  found  in 
all  consciousness,  animal  or  otherwise,  we  may 
suppose  that  the  process  of  evolution  has  only 
organized  or  consolidated  elements  otherwise 
separate  into  a  systematic  tendency  to  act  in  the 
direction  we  call  conscience.  In  this  manne  w 
may  admit  the  uniqueness  of  the  function,  and  so 
its  distinction  from  animal  life,  while  wfe  at  the 
same  time  accept  the  evolution,  if  not  of  the  ele- 


CONSCIENCE  (Babylonian) 


33 


ments,  certainly  of  the  organic  whole  for  which 
the  term  stands.  The  distinction  as  a  whole  be- 
tween man  and  animal  is  preserved,  while  the 
identity  of  their  elements  is  maintained,  evolution 
being  formative,  not  creative. 

The  consequence  of  this  view  is  that  conscience 
is  no  more  simple  than  the  aesthetic  faculty  or  any 
other  function  of  the  mind.  It  receives  a  distinct 
name  merely  because  of  the  importance  attaching 
to  certain  fixed  relations  between  men  and  their 
conduct.  All  the  functions  of  the  mind  are  em- 
ployed in  the  determination  of  action,  and  it  seems 
simple  only  because  we  are  in  the  habit  of  seizing 
some  one  particular  mark  in  the  whole  for  denomi- 
nating the  process ;  and,  in  any  case  in  which  a 
single  term  is  used  to  denominate  a  fact,  a  natural 
tendency  arises  to  consider  that  fact  a  simple  one. 
But  in  matters  of  moral  character  there  are  many 
mental  states  and  many  external  relations  involved, 
and  so  long  as  conscience  is  a  term  to  denote  the 
moral  nature  it  must  include  all  these  factors. 

The  problem,  however,  of  its  origin  is  not  so 
important  as  its  validity  as  a  function  of  mind. 
The  perplexity  created  by  the  controversy  of  the 
religious  mind  with  the  evolutionist  was  caused  by 
the  original  conception  that  its  meaning  and  value 
as  a  function  of  mind  depended  on  its  origin.  The 
assumption  was  that,  unless  it  had  a  Divine  origin, 
its  authority  was  impaired.  In  other  words,  its 
validity  was  made  to  depend  on  its  creative  origin 
instead  of  upon  its  judgment  of  facts.  The  con- 
sequence was  that  evolution  only  enforced  the 
conclusion  which  the  theist  admitted  hypothetic- 
ally.  But  once  realize,  as  we  do  in  all  other 
scientific  and  philosophic  problems,  that  historical 
origin  does  not  determine  validity,  and  the  author- 
ity of  conscience  will  depend  on  the  same  criteria 
as  those  which  determine  ordinary  truths,  and  not 
upon  any  contingency  of  its  remote  source,  whether 
it  be  a  simple  or  a  complex  faculty.  We  do  not 
make  any  other  scientific  truth  depend  on  the  cause 
of  its  origin  but  upon  its  conformity  to  facts  and 
the  law  of  things.  It  must  be  the  same  with  the 
dictates  of  conscience.  They  are  valid  or  invalid 
irrespective  of  the  mode  of  their  origin,  and  because 
of  their  relation  to  the  welfare  of  the  individual. 

Literature. — L.  Stephen,  Science  of  Ethics,  Lond.  1882,  ch. 
viii. ;  T.  H.  Green,  Proleg.  to  Ethics,  Oxf.  1883,  bk.  n.  ch.  v., 
and  bk.  rv.  ch.  i. ;  I.  A.  Corner,  Chr.  Ethics  (Eng.  tr.  1887), 
pt.  L  ch.  iii.  2nd  div.  2nd  sect. ;  H.  Paulsen,  Syst.  of  Ethics 
(Eng.  tr.  1899),  bk.  n.  ch.  vi.  ;  see  also  Butler,  Sermons,  ed. 
W.  E.  Gladstone,  Oxl.  1896 ;  Darwin,  Descent  of  Man,  Lond. 
1871 ;  and  H.  Spencer,  Principles  of  Ethics,  Lond.  1893. 

James  H.  Hyslop. 
CONSCIENCE  (Babylonian).— As  is  indicated 
in  the  art.  Confession  (vol.  iii.  p.  825),  the  Assyro- 
Babylonians  felt  strongly  the  consciousness  of  the 
commission  of  sin  and  wrongdoing,  and  herein  the 
idea  of  conscience  appears  plainly,  and  must  have 
presented  itself  with  all  its  force  to  their  minds. 
Confession  of  sin,  in  fact,  can  exist  in  all  sincerity 
only  when  conscience  speaks  to  a  man,  and  tells 
him  that  he  is  in  fault — when, 
'  Sitting  in  lamentation, 
In  bitter  uiutterings  and  pain  of  heart. 
In  evil  weeping,  in  evil  lamentation, 
He  mourns  like  a  dove  ;  tearfully  night  and  day, 
To  his  merciful  god  like  an  ox  he  lows,  (and) 
Bitter  lamentation  he  constantly  makes.'  r 
The  Assyr.-Bab.   conception    of    sin,   however, 
differed  from  that  prevailing  in  a  Christian  com- 
munity, as  the  failings  of  a  religious  man  belong- 
ing to  those  ancient  nationalities  might  be  due  to 
causes  over  which  he  had  no  control — the  effects  of 
the  actions  of  evil  spirits,  or  the  ritual  uncleanness 
brought  about  by  acts  of  forgetfulness  or  by  the 
effects  of  illness.     The  disadvantage  arising  from 
this  consisted  in  the  disfavour  of  the  gods,  or  of 
the  king  as  the  gods'  representative,   and  there 
was  a  desire  to  avoid  such  disfavour  in  future  by 
i  WAIiv.tj>\.  26,  60  ff. 
VOL.  IV. — 3 


refraining  from  the  commission  of  the  misdeeds 
which  brought  it  about.  This,  though  not  the 
Christian  idea  of  conscience  (including,  as  it  does, 
the  feeling  of  remorse),  may  have  tended  to  bring 
about  the  frame  of  mind  which  we  understand 
thereby,  or  something  akin  to  it. 

An  excellent  example  of  the  heart-searehings 
of  the  Babylonians  and  their  remorse  of  con- 
science is  given  by  the  2nd  tablet  of  the  Surpu- 
series.  Here  the  afflicted  man  has  not  only  to  ask 
himself  whether  he  has  committed  the  sins  of 
blasphemy,  uncleanness,  bribery  (?)  to  thwart  the 
ends  of  justice,  used  false  balances,  removed  his 
neighbour's  landmark,  etc.,  but  must  also  put  to 
himself  searching  questions  as  to  whether  he  has 
separated  father  and  son  (or  other  near  relatives), 
refrained  from  freeing  the  captive,  failed  to  enable 
the  imprisoned  to  see  the  light  of  day,  whether, 
being  '  upright  of  mouth,'  his  heart  was  neverthe- 
less faithless,  and  whether,  while  saying  '  Yes ' 
with  his  mouth,  '  No  '  was  in  his  heart.1  As  these 
queries  run  to  about  80  lines,  it  will  easily  be 
recognized  that  the  Babylonian,  in  his  conscien- 
tiousness, was  exceedingly  thorough. 

In  fact,  we  may,  perhaps,  see  in  the  last  of  the 
following    lines    something    expressing    the    idea 
which  the  word  '  conscience  '  contains  : 
'  On  account  of  his  eye,  which  is  filled  with  tears,  [accept  thou 
his]  lamentation  ; 

On  account  of  his  troubled  face,  [accept  thou  his]  lamenta- 
tion ; 

On  account  of  his  mind  (?),  from  which  tears  depart  not, 
[accept  thou  his]  lamentation  ; 

On  account  of  his  lips,  on  which  a  bridle  is  placed,  [accept 
thou  his]  lamentation  ; 2 

On  account  of  his  hands,  which  rest  spread  abroad,  [accept 
thou  his]  lamentation  ; 

On  account  of  his  breast,  which  complains  like  a  resounding 
flute,  [accept  thou  his]  lamentation.'3 

In  this  extract  the  breast,  the  seat  of  the  feel- 
ings, may  be  regarded  as  the  inner  conscience 
of  a  man,  and  as  practically  synonymous  with  the 
heart,  when  used  in  the  same  sense.  In  the  Laws 
of  Hammurabi,  the  person  who  had  a  complaint  to 
make  was  recommended  to  go  before  Merodach 
and  Zerpanitum  in  prayer,  '  with  perfection  of 
heart. '  '  Perfection  of  heart '  would,  therefore, 
seem  to  have  been  an  expression  equivalent  to 
freedom  from  the  consciousness  of  sin — a  clear 
conscience.  In  the  fullest  sense  of  the  words, 
therefore,  the  great  gods  of  Babylonia  exacted, 
for  their  favour,  not  only  that  rectitude  in  the 
sight  of  the  world  which  every  right-minded  per- 
son desires,  but  also  a  good  conscience,  such  as 
would  urge  one  to  repentance,  contrition,  recon- 
ciliation, and  restitution  when  the  interests  of  his 
fellow-men  were  involved. 

Numerous  inscriptions,  mostly  of  the  nature  of 
penitential  psalms  and  litanies,  might  be  quoted 
in  illustration  of  the  above,  but  very  little  fresh 
information  is  to  be  obtained  from  them.4  Their 
cumulative  evidence,  however,  shows  the  Baby- 
lonians in  a  most  favourable  light,  notwithstand- 
ing that  the  objects  of  their  worship  were  the  gods 
and  goddesses  of  their  national  pantheon.  Re- 
ligious in  the  extreme,  the  constant  aim  of  the 
believer  among  them  was  a  clear  conscience,  with- 
out which  there  was  no  hope  of  happiness,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  pain  and  grief  in  this  world,  and,  to 
all  appearance,  separation  in  the  world  to  come 
from  the  deity  whom  they  worshipped. 

Literature. — This  is  given  in  the  notes. 

T.  G.  Pinches. 

1  Zimmern,  Beitr.  zur  Kenntnis  der  bab.  ReL,  Leipzig,  1806, 
pp.  2-7. 

2  Sumerian  :  Sumdum  sikur-e  mbbdta  ira-  .  .  .  ;  Babylonian  : 
Ina  Sapti-Su  Sa  lagaa  nadd  [biklt-su  liqe  ?]. 

3  Haupt,  Akkad,  u.  sumer.  Keilschri'Jttexte,  Leipzig,  1881,  no. 
19,  with  additions.  The  text  being  imperfect,  the  above  render- 
ing is  given  with  reserve.  For  a  rendering  without  the  additions, 
see  Jastrow,  Rel.  Bab.  u.  Assyr.  ii.  (Giessen,  190S)  p.  81,  lines 
1S-16. 

4  See  Jastrow,  op.  cit.  ii.  1-137  ('  Klagelieder  und  Bussgebete '). 


34 


CONSCIENCE  (Egyptian) 


CONSCIENCE  (Egyptian).— The  actual  word 
'  conscience '  does  not  occur  in  the  indexes  of 
Egyptological  works — which  is  a  priori  a  signifi- 
cant fact.  For  not  only  must  we  suppose  that  the 
word  has  no  exact  equivalent  in  the  Egyptian 
vocabulary  (any  more  than  have  the  terms  '  sanc- 
tion,' 'morality,'  'remorse,'  etc.),  but  we  must 
also  conclude  that  the  literature  of  ancient  Egypt 
has  nothing  to  say  on  the  subject.  Of  course,  we 
find  numerous  writings  on  propriety,  on  duty,  on 
everything  connected  with  the  vast  domain  of 
ethics  in  general ;  but  there  is  nothing  that  bears 
directly  upon  the  phenomena  of  conscience  in 
themselves.  Since,  on  the  other  hand,  we  still 
find  most  delicate  manifestations  of  what  we 
might  call  an  organized  conscience  in  Egypt,  in 
its  literature  and  religious  works,  we  must  pre- 
sume that  the  Egyptians  had  quite  a  different 
conception  of  conscience  from  ours  for  both  of  the 
senses  in  which  the  word  is  used  to-day.  Psycho- 
logically, they  connected  it  with  very  different 
phenomena,  and  with  methods  of  perception  of 
the  '  ego '  which  are  no  longer  ours.  Morally, 
conscience  was  regarded  as  playing  a  part  in  con- 
cepts grouped  in  a  different  way  from  that  followed 
by  our  method.  Or,  rather,  Egyptian  thought 
arranged  the  operations  of  the  moral  conscience 
in  separate  and  independent  categories,  whereas 
we  make  them  a  unity.  It  would  take  too  long 
to  investigate  whether  this  fact  is  due  to  the 
general  inability  of  the  Egyptians  to  make  abs- 
tract definitions,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  to  the 
method  whereby  Egyptian  intellectual  civilization 
originally  formed  the  foundations  of  its  know- 
ledge. The  latter  is  probably  the  more  correct 
view. 

These  radical  differences  of  terminology  explain, 
at  any  rate,  why  the  question  has  never  yet  been 
entered  into  in  modern  works  of  Egyptology. 
These  speak  very  often  of  the  moral  culture  of 
Egypt,  but  never  of  its  conscience  or  of  the  pos- 
sible formation  of  the  same  (the  work  of  Flinders 
Petrie,  Religion  and  Conscience,  is  the  only  ex- 
ception at  present ;  but  note  also  the  restriction 
made  in  the  Literature  at  the  end  of  this 
article).  In  fact,  the  complete  absence  in  ancient 
Egypt  of  definition  or  treatment  of  the  subject 
forces  us  to  a  long  process  of  reconstruction  of  the 
Egyptian  conscience  by  means  of  the  direct  study 
of  whatever  implicit  manifestations  of  conscience 
can  be  seen  in  the  whole  collection  of  Egyptian 
writings.  Thus,  inscriptions  such  as  a  prayer,  a 
hymn,  a  biography,  or  a  copy  of  a  deed  of  division 
or  a  lawsuit ;  or  testamentary  or  epistolary  papyri  ; 
or  even  magical  incantations  may  supply  a  detail 
here  or  there  ;  and  the  sum  of  such  contributions 
may  gradually  make  it  possible  to  reach  a  know- 
ledge of  Egyptian  conscience.  This  study  is  neces- 
sarily a  very  intricate  one  ;  but  it  is  indispensable 
for  our  ultimate  understanding  of  the  duties  and 
divisions  of  Egyptian  morality,  of  which  so  much 
has  been  said.  What  follows  cannot  be  any  more 
than  a  first  attempt,  of  provisional  character. 

It  is  a  common  thing  to  read  that  the  Egyptians 
'  had  a  conscience  superior  to  that  of  the  other 
peoples  of  classic  antiquity.'  Such  an  expression 
is  ambiguous.  Its  actual  meaning,  as  Petrie  rightly 
notes  (op.  cit.  86),  must  be  that  the  theoretical 
standards  were  nowhere  so  well  defined  and  ap- 
parently so  high  ,as  in  Egypt.  The  gradual  de- 
velopment of  these  standards  can  be  followed  in  a 
long   historical   series   of   documents.1      But   the 

1  Especially  if  we  use  documents  very  much  neglected  as  a 
rule,  such  as:  the  'Negative  Confession'  of  the  Roman  era; 
the  '  Duties  of  the  Governor '  (Rekhmara  inscription),  and, 
generally,  the  biographies  of  the  first  Theban  empire. 
Hitherto  we  have  made  too  exclusive  a  use  of  the  celebrated 
ch.  oxxv.  of  the  Book  of  the  Dead  and  of  the  'Treatises  on 
Wisdom  '  (inaccurately  called  '  Treatises  on  Morality '). 


study  of  this  evolution  constitutes  an  inquiry 
which  belongs  to  moral  and  social  history.  It 
amounts,  in  short,  to  an  attempt  to  disentangle 
the  notion  of  the  co-ordinate  moral  system,  with 
its  sanctions  and  its  more  or  less  successful 
attempts  at  a  codification  of  duties — the  whole 
being  organized  on  the  standards  of  which  we  have 
just  spoken.  An  investigation  of  this  nature  must 
be  accompanied  by  that  of  the  word  '  duty,'  be- 
cause it  is  connected  logically  with  the  conception 
of  moral  obligation,  and  with  the  various  ques- 
tions attached  thereto  (nature  of  duty,  categories, 
origins,  sanctions,  etc.).  This  has  been  the  treat- 
ment followed  in  almost  all  the  works  occupied 
with  the  word  '  conscience '  in  general. 

It  appears,  then,  to  have  been  a  mistake  to  study  the 
'  duties '  of  Egyptian  morality  in  connexion  with  conscience, 
as  Petrie  has  done  (op.  cit.)  ;  and  an  examination  of  his  work 
shows  precisely  that,  among  the  hundreds  of  obligations  and 
prohibitions  figuring  among  the  dutie9,  the  majority  (food 
tabus,  ritual  and  sexual  tabus,  etc.)  arise  from  sources  quite 
apart  from  the  true  domain  of  conscience. 

We  must,  consequently,  occupy  ourselves  ex- 
clusively with  the  phenomenon  '  conscience '  con- 
sidered by  itself,  i.e.  that  immediate  intuition  of 
good  and  bad,  that  inward  feeling,  instinctive 
(from  its  appearing  innate),  which  shows  itself 
contemporaneously  with  an  action.  There  is  in  it 
a  quasi-spontaneous  disposition  of  the  mind  to 
make  the  judgment  (which  it  forms  on  actions 
and  intentions)  subordinate  to  an  idea  that  appears 
to  be  sui  generis. 

Applying  as  it  does  to  a  dead  race,  and  to  a  race 
which  has  left  no  didactic  matter  of  its  own  on  the 
subject,  our  study  must  be  cautious,  and  should 
begin  by  limiting  our  field  of  inquiry  as  much  as 
possible.  Thus  we  must  dismiss  as  too  wide  the 
definition  that  '  conscience  is  the  mass  of  intui- 
tions as  to  what  is  good  or  bad,'  because  an  ap- 
Earent  intuition  may  be  an  acquisition  that  has 
ecome  so  rapid  by  force  of  habit  that  it  seems 
instinctive  (either  by  individual  education  or  by 
hereditary  transmission  of  the  tendency).  This 
suggests  the  subject  of  physical  movements  (e.g. 
'  struggling '  movements)  which  seem  instinctive, 
but  are  not  necessarily  innate.  Petrie  (op.  cit.  92) 
shows  very  clearly  that  similarly  the  body  of  in- 
tuitions which  we  call  conscience  is  the  accumu- 
lated heritage  of  centuries.  Not  one  of  the  ap- 
parent '  intuitions '  brought  to  light  by  Egyptian 
writings  can  be  classed  with  any  degree  of  cer- 
tainty among  the  primordial  phenomena.  They 
must  be  studied  as  one  of  the  fundamental  ele- 
ments of  a  social  morality  composed  of  all  the 
individual  consciences  brought  together,  and  it 
belongs  to  ethics  to  investigate  how  heredity  has 
impressed  them  little  by  little  until  they  have 
the  force  of  instinct  (cf.  A.  Leroy,  Religion  des 
primitifs,  Paris,  1909,  p.  211). 

Thus  limited,  the  question  comes  to  be  whether 
there  is  in  the  body  of  Egyptian  literature  a 
means  of  defining  the  initial  element  (we  must 
avoid  the  words  'innate'  and  'acquired'),  or  the 
earliest  possible  elements  from  which  the  Egyptian 
moral  conscience  seems  to  proceed.  In  a  question 
of  this  type,  if  we  do  not  want  it  to  extend  in- 
definitely, it  is  a  good  method  of  procedure  to 
apply  to  Egypt  the  principal  theories  relating  to 
the  origin  of  conscience  among  primitive  peoples, 
and  to  investigate  whether  what  we  know  of 
Egyptian  religion  and  ethics  agrees  with  them. 

At  the  very  outset,  it  seems  certain  that  the 
Egyptian  conscience  cannot  be  brought  into  con- 
nexion with  the  Divine  world  of  the  nation.  The 
literary  expressions  employed  in  the  question  as 
to  '  whether  conscience  is  the  herald  of  the  Law  - 
giver  or  the  Lawgiver  Himself  '  have  no  precise 
meaning  here.  If  we'  can  prove  that  social 
morality  is  the  product  of  the  body  of  individual 


CONSCIENCE  (Egyptian) 


35 


consciences,  and  show  the  initial  separateness  of 
morality  and  any  given  religious  system,  we  see 
that  this  separation  naturally  affects  the  origin  of 
conscience.  Now  this  separation  of  morality  from 
religious  beliefs  has  been  attempted  time  after 
time,  since  Tylor,  in  all  the  religions  of  uncivil- 
ized or  semi-civilized  peoples.  But  nowhere  is 
this  phenomenon  more  scientifically  clear  than  in 
Egypt,  where,  from  the  time  of  the  pre-historic 
texts  of  the  Funerary  Books  to  the  Roman  Em- 
pire, the  accession  of  the  gods  to  the  domain  of 
morality  was  a  slow  process.  Right  down  to 
near  the  latter  period,  Osiris  was  almost  the  only 
god  connected  with  a  moral  idea  (Ptah  of  Memphis 
is  perhaps  an  exception,  if  we  judge  by  the  latest 
discoveries,  in  his  temples,  of  stela?  to  the  name 
of  '  Ptah  who  hears  the  plaint  of  the  wretched ' 
[cf.  Petrie,  Memphis,  i.,  Lond.  1908,  p.  17  if.]). 
The  other  gods  neither  prescribed  nor  taught  any- 
thing of  morality.  They  only  punished  those  who 
did  them  wrong,  and  blessed  their  benefactors.  It 
may  even  be  remarked,  as  one  of  the  strongest 
characteristics  of  Egyptian  religions,  that  this 
neutrality  of  the  jpds  persists  throughout  the 
whole  domain  of  ethics. 

The  systems  which  base  conscience  on  '  sym- 
pathy '  seem  incapable  of  explaining  its  manifesta- 
tions in  Egypt.  Not  one  of  the  texts  of  the 
monuments,  e.g.,  or  of  the  moral  or  popular  litera- 
ture, makes  any  mention  of,  or  even  allusion  to, 
anything  of  the  nature  of  the  Shinto  doctrine  of 
kami.  In  Egypt,  '  to  follow  the  dictates  of  the 
heart '  would  lead  to  very  different  results  from 
those  of  a  fundamental  concept  that  '  the  heart 
is  good.'  On  the  contrary,  the  total  impression 
given  by  Egyptian  writings  may  be  summed  up 
in  two  remarks  which  do  not  favour  this  system. 
(1)  We  find  a  great  lack  of  those  ideas  which  are 
often  regarded  as  indications  of  the  '  sympathetic  ' 
origin  of  conscience.  These  are  the  feelings  which 
are  usually  qualified  with  '  temporary  sanction,' 
and  are  called  the  pleasure  and  joy  of  doing  good, 
and  the  remorse,  regret,  and  repentance  for  evil- 
doing.  Inversely,  certain  chapters  of  the  Pyra- 
mids and  the  Book  of  the  Dead,  and  certain 
reflexions  of  the  popular  tales,  offer  lamentable 
analogies,  in  point  of  '  sympathy,'  with  the  present 
mental  status  of  the  very  lowest  races  among  those 
studied  in  the  Congo  (cf.  Notes  sur  la  vie  familiale 
et  juridique  de  quelques  populations  au  Congo 
Beige,  ser.  iii.  fasc.  i.  [Brussels,  1909]).  (2)  The 
study  of  '  sanctions '  properly  so  called  (of  very 
different  kinds,  of  course)  reveals  an  organization 
(i.e.  a  formation)  which  shows  its  connexion  with 
fundamental  elements  that  are  quite  different, 
and  perhaps  even  totally  opposite. 

The  history  of  this  will  be  examined  elsewhere  (see  Ethics). 
Here,  however,  we  should  note  this  tangle — at  first  sight 
inextricable — of  the  most  various  fundamental  sanctions.  The 
lowest  of  theBe  are  based  on  violation  of  '  tabus,'  and  have  no 
possible  connexion  with  any  moral  action  whatever  ;  the  others 
Bhow  themselves  as  consequences,  conceived  from  a  utilitarian 
point  of  view  (and  recognized  as  such  by  experience),  of  in- 
coherent series  of  actions  which  are  not  arranged  in  any  kind 
of  rational  groups.  We  see  this  in  the  absolute  and  persistent 
inability  of  the  Egyptians  to  compose  any  kind  of  reasonable 
list  of  sanctions.  All  that  we  find  (Treatises  on  Wisdom,  Book 
of  the  Dead,  Maxims,  Proverbs,  Instructions,  etc.)  are  lists 
formed  in  reference,  not  to  classes  of  duties,  but  to  the  indi- 
viduals or  forces  whence  these  sanctions  proceed  :  the  gods, 
chiefs,  the  dead,  the  family.  Sometimes,  indeed,  there  is  a 
suggestion  of  the  motives  of  command  or  prohibition.  But 
then  we^  find  a  vast  confusion  :  the  career,  renown,  long  life, 
the  gratitude  of  men,  business  gains  and  losBes,  eschatological 
conditions,  reciprocity,  etc.  Few  documentary  sources  give 
the  idea  of  a  moral  conscience  with  any  other  basis  better 
than  that  of '  innate  goodness '  or  '  sympathy.' 

The  innate  appreciation  of  right  and  wrong, 
which  many  regard  as  the  irreducible,  constitu- 
tive element  of  the  moral  conscience,  seems  at 
first  sight  a  good  theory  for  Egypt.  There  is  prob- 
ably no  other  ancient  literature  so  impregnated 


with  ideas  of  right  and  justice.  Discourses  like 
the  one  supposed  to  be  addressed  by  the  king  to 
his  vizier  on  the  duties  of  the  guardians  of  justice 
(cf.  Newberry,  Bekhmara,  Lond.  1900,  p.  33),  the 
statements  of  ch.  cxxv.  of  the  Book  of  the  Dead, 
and  especially  the  constant  references  of  the  bio- 
graphical inscriptions  to  equity  and  hatred  of 
wrong  in  all  its  moral  and  social  forms,  would 
seem  to  picture  the  very  inmost  mental  state 
of  the  race.  A  critical  examination  of  the  texts, 
however,  makes  this  tempting  hypothesis  un- 
tenable. In  eschatology,  we  find  that  the  idea 
of  '  retribution  '  or  that  lofty  idea  of  the  '  average 
of  years  of  good  fortune '  (cf.  Griffith,  Stories  of 
the  High  Priests,  Oxford,  1900,  pp.  41-66)  is  of  very 
late  appearance,  and  the  most  perfect  injustice 
preceded  it,  for — as  has  been  noticed — the  famous 
'  Negative  Confession  '  confines  itself  to  a  magical 
affirmation  without  proofs.  Finally,  the  moral 
concept  which  it  supposes  in  relation  to  the  actions 
of  this  life  is  not  ancient  in  respect  of  its  in- 
sertion in  the  Book  of  the  Dead  ;  there  is  no 
getting  over  the  plain  fact  that,  while  we  have 
for  several  years  been  in  possession  of  about  two 
hundred  specimens  of  the  Book  of  the  Dead  of 
earlier  date  than  the  XVIIIth  dynasty,  we  have 
not  one  containing  a  single  line  of  the  only  moral 
chapter  of  this  literature.  It  is  the  same  with  the 
ordinary  inscriptions,  where  the  development  can 
be  followed  from  the  mastabas  of  the  IVth  dynasty. 
Right  and  wrong  do  not  appear  at  first  except  in 
the  form  of  affirmations  of  the  lawful  ownership 
of  various  goods,  or  the  absence  of  wrong  done  to 
those  things  of  which  the  deceased  has  need — which 
is  quite  a  different  thing.  Even  reducing  it  to  its 
humblest  form  (as  conceded,  e.g.,  by  Reville,  Pro- 
Ugomines3,  Paris,  1881,  p.  276),  we  cannot  reach  the 
evidence  of  a  primordial,  irreducible  element,  con- 
sisting of  an  innate  feeling  of  right,  for  any  one 
of  the  ancient  Egyptian  cases.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  is  not  easy  to  find  satisfaction  in  a  system  like 
that  taken  up  lately  by  Leroy  (op.  cit.  205),  which 
posits  at  the  outset  an  irreducible  innate  idea  of 
right,  while  admitting  the  infinite  and  contra- 
dictory variety  of  practical  applications.  It  is  an 
evident  paralogy  to  make,  from  the  establishment 
of  a  connexion  by  mental  operation,  an  entity 
existing  by  itself.  The  philological  examination 
of  the  texts  that  one  would  apply  to  this  special 
exposition  might  arrive  some  time  at  the  evidence 
of  the  primitive  confusion  of  the  notions  of  good- 
ness and  utility,  but  never  at  an  abstract  concep- 
tion of  right ;  such  a  process  would  lead  rather  to 
conclusions  remarkably  like  that  suggested  by 
the  examination  of  the  moral  ideas  of  the  races 
recently  examined  in  Equatorial  Africa,  in  the 
basin  of  the  Congo,  or  in  British  East  Africa. 

Petrie's  conclusion  is  the  theory  of  utility  brought 
to  perfection  by  heredity  (op.  cit.  88). 

His  views  may  be  summed  up  aB  follows  :  The  conscious  idea 
of  right  and  wrong  conforms  at  its  basis  with  what  is  useful 
or  the  reverse  for  the  community.  Passing  centuries  have 
gradually  done  away  with  this  idea,  and  have  imposed  on  the 
individual,  and  thereafter  on  his  descendants,  respect  for  it  (if 
not  intelligence) ;  so  that  his  manner  of  appreciating  it  has, 
like  hereditary  movements,  become  instinctive.  In  fact,  the 
primitive  reasoning  of  the  ancestor  has  been  transmitted  to 
his  posterity  in  the  form  of  propensities  to  conscience. 

This  theory  of  Petrie's  is  a  remodelled  form,  to  suit  Egypt, 
of  the  conception  that  we  find  elsewhere  in  all  sorts  of 
analogous  forms ;  e.g.  '  le  precepte  devient  axiomatique  dans  la 
conscience  par  heredite '  (Reville,  op.  cit.  276) ;  or  the  elementary 

Frinciples  are  '  l'utilite,  l'opinion,  les  sentiments  affectifs, 
heredite'  (G.  Le  Bon,  Premieres  civilisations,  ed.  1905,  p.  95), 
etc.  The  whole  idea  seems  well  adapted  to  the  Egyptian  world, 
so  well  organized  in  all  its  workings  for  social  co-operation  and 
utility. 

But  this  is  a  narrow  basis,  and  must  be 
broadened.  Such  a  system  does  not  explain  why 
Egypt,  having  the  same  constitutive  elements  of 
conscience  as  the  other  African  peoples,  should 
have  developed  its  moral  conscience  further  than 


36 


CONSCIENCE  (Egyptian) 


they.  A  more  precise  and  intricate  mechanism 
must  be  found,  and  can  be  found — in  the  present 
writer's  opinion — in  a  careful  examination  of 
Egyptian  literature.  A  total  of  500  or  600 
proverbs,  maxims,  precepts,  ideas,  or  thoughts  of 
a  moral  type,  extending  from  the  IVth  dynasty  to 
the  Christian  era,  will  suffice  for  this  inquiry, 
the  business  of  which  is  not  to  define  the  idea  of 
duty  or  its  working  out  (see  Ethics),  but  to 
find  the  elements  of  formation  of  what  we  call 
conscience  in  Egypt.  The  development  of  the 
utilitarian  and  social  datum  will  appear  as  the 
result  of  the  combination  of  two  chief  elements. 

The  first  consists  essentially  in  the  feeling  that 
there  is  no  indifferent  action,  and  that  every 
action  has  consequences  for  its  author.  This  idea 
is  by  no  means  of  the  same  nature  as  that  of  right 
and  wrong.  It  is  not  even  the  idea  of  respon- 
sibility, but  it  contains  the  latter  in  embryo.  It 
also  includes  the  future  idea  of  reciprocity,  applied 
to  the  doer  of  the  action.  It  thus  reduces  itself  to 
the  form  :  '  If  I  do  this,  the  same  will  be  done  to 
me  (or  will  happen  to  me) ' ;  then  to  the  form :  '  I 
shall  not  do  that,  so  that  the  same  may  not  be 
done  to  me  (or  happen  to  me).'  A  comparison  of 
the  mentality  of  the  black  African  of  to-day  with 
the  Egyptian  texts  makes  it  possible  to  hold  that 
this  idea  of  the  necessary  consequences  of  every 
good  or  bad  action  is  a  truly  innate  idea,  or,  if 
not  innate,  at  least  the  most  primitive  instinctive 
idea  that  can  be  found.  It  does  not  presuppose, 
so  far  as  appears,  a  developed  intelligence  or  a 
long  education.  The  African — to  continue  our 
illustration— is  surrounded  by  an  infinite  number 
of  forces  and  spirits  of  such  importance  that  every 
human  action  and  movement  affects  them,  for 
good  or  ill — we  might  almost  say,  most  often  for 
ill.  And  this  pessimism,  rightly  remarked  as  a 
characteristic  of  the  African  mind,  is  still  visible 
in  Egyptian  literature.  The  action,  with  its  con- 
sequences, agreeable  or  harmful  or  displeasing  to 
one  or  other  of  those  innumerable  spirits  and 
forces,  begets  the  immediate  perception  of  a  good 
or  evil  consequence  for  the  doer.  This  is  clearly 
seen  in  the  case  of  numerous  interdictions  of  a 
ritual  nature,  or  in  the  mysterious  vengeance  of 
spirits  and  gods  offended  unawares,  or  in  violent 
deaths.  The  famous  ch.  cxxv.  itself,  looked  at 
from  this  point  of  view,  shows  itself  to  be  com- 
posed from  the  very  same  elements  as  those  of  a 
Kavirondo  or  Ubangi  native's  conscience.  And 
the  idea  that  other  men,  neighbours  and  fellow- 
men,  are  linked,  by  their  death  or  by  their 
guardian-spirits,  to  this  sum  of  mysterious  forces 
brought  into  motion  by  every  action,  seems  to 
have  supplied  the  natural  means  for  the  ex- 
tension of  this  primitive  feeling. 

Whether  the  original  mental  operation  is  innate  or  not  will 
not  be  discussed  here.  The  positive  fact  is  that  what,  in  every 
case,  is  described  as  the  first  manifestation  of  the  feeling  of 
conscience  among  the  'non-civilized'  Africans  is  at  the 
foundation  of  Egyptian  mentality.  Experiment  naturally  gave 
this  feeling  definiteness  and  precision,  and,  low  as  we  may 
judge  it  from  the  moral  point  of  view,  it  started  a  great 
forward  movement  on  the  day  when  it  became  the  idea  of 
necessary  reciprocity,  attached  to  the  actions  or  intentions. 
We  can  still  detect  that  stage  very  clearly  in  Egypt  (especially 
in  the  popular  tales),  when  this  idea  is  embodied  in  the  vague 
form  of  a  sort  of  '  fatality,'  whose  consequences  man  lets 
loose  by  his  own  action.  It  is  only  later,  and  in  a  very 
imperfect  form,  that  this  mechanism  is  connected  with  precise 
interventions :  (1)  with  the  dead  as  punishing  or  rewarding 
(cf.,  e.g.,  the  expression  'your  gods  [i.e.  your  deified  dead]  will 
bless  you  if  you  do,'  etc.)  ;  (2)  with  the  guardian-deities  of  the 
dead.  And  yet,  even  in  historic  times,  the  perception  of  the 
results  of  the  evil  action  is  attached  to  forces  that  are  quite 
vague  and  undefined,  such  as  chance,  misfortune,  and  accident. 
These  are  the  survivals,  modified  by  time,  of  the  '  spirits '  of  the 
most  ancient  Egyptian  beliefs.  Never  have  national  religions 
been  able  to  rise  higher. 

If  we  find  at  the  base  of  Egyptian  thought  first 
fear,  and  then,  with  progress^  the  idea  of  personal 
responsibility,  we  must  demonstrate  why  finally 


this  sort  of  '  conscience '  later  developed  so 
differently  in  Egypt  and  among  the  African 
peoples  of  whom  we  have  been  speaking.  A 
second  factor  came  into  play,  which  was  indis- 
pensable to  the  evolution,  and  it  seems  that  it 
was  this  factor  which  organized  the  Egyptian 
conscience,  with  its  special  traits,  with  its  im- 
perfections—  but  also  with  its  nobility.  The 
second  element  consists  very  probably  in  the  idea 
of  order,  or  the  idea  of  the  harmony  of  the  world 
— later  designated  by  the  word  k6o-/u>s.  The  first 
knowledge  of  '  order '  in  the  progress  and  forces 
of  the  world  naturally  began  as  purely  material 
order,  in  the  domain  of  physics  and  geography. 
We  have  explained  in  art.  Calendar  (Egyptian) 
the  important  part  played  in  this  question  by  the 
observation  of  the  stars,  and  the  idea  that  the 
Divine  influences  of  the  stellar  powers  governed 
the  world.  As  the  heavenly  vault  set  the  example 
of  order,  and  directed  events  on  earth,  the  know- 
ledge of  the  laws  and  harmonies  of  the  sensible 
world  followed.  A  relation  of  this  kind  between 
the  astral  world  and  the  earth  seems  to  have  been 
made  very  much  more  natural  in  Egypt  by  the 
character  of  the  climate,  in  which  the  regularity 
of  certain  rhythms  and  the  well-defined  character 
of  certain  opposites  were  noticeable  (the  periodicity 
of  the  Nile's  rise,  the  fixity  of  the  seasons  and 
winds,  the  contrast  between  the  desert  and  the 
valley,  etc.).  The  knowledge  of  this  supposed 
co-relation  helped  the  Egyptians  to  establish  the 
first  ideas  of  the  correspondence  that  could  exist 
between  this  regular  rhythm  of  the  material  world 
and  the  individual  efforts  of  men  to  associate  their 
own  activity  therewith  in  a  beneficial  manner. 
Hence  arose  a  more  and  more  clear  comprehension 
of  the  identity  of  what  is  useful  for  man  with 
what  is  indicated  by  the  order  of  astral  powers. 
Such  a  conviction  must  in  its  turn  engender 
gradually,  as  the  foundations  of  intuitive  con- 
science, the  ideas  of  the  necessity  of  all  uniting 
together  for  the  common  struggle,  of  the  necessity 
of  solidarity,  of  the  superiority  of  the  general 
interest  over  the  particular,  and  of  the  dependence 
of  the  individual  upon  the  community. 

The  whole  question,  then,  in  the  special  case  of  Egypt,  turns 
upon  the  theory  that  the  origin  of  conscience  '  se  rattache  aux 
efforts  faits  par  l'homme  depuis  la  prehistoire  pour  se  civiliser 
par  la  cooperation  et  la  solidarite '  (G.  Le  Bon,  Origines,  1906,  p. 
191).  But,  instead  of  general  hypotheses,  we  have  here  docu- 
mentary evidences  of  this  evolution  ;  e.g.  in  the  very  frequent 
references  in  the  ancient  texts  to  the  important  r61e,  from  a 
moral  standpoint,  filled  by  the  questions  relating  to  water, 
irrigation,  and  the  struggle  againBt  the  desert  (cf.  ch.  cxxv.  of 
the  Book  of  the  Dead ;  certain  passages  in  the  panegyrics  of 
the  lords  of  Syut  in  the  Xth  dynasty ;  or  of  Beni  Hasan  in  the 
XHth,  etc.).  The  idea  of  a  higher  authority  and  an  earthly 
hierarchy  being  necessary  in  this  world,  as  they  are  in  the 
celestial  world,  for  the  common  good,  is  also  a  result  of  a 
conscience  based  on  the  vision  of  the  koo-^os  ;  this  vision  has 
likewise  impregnated  all  the  literature  of  the  '  moral '  type. 

In  conclusion,  from  the  vague  fear  common  to 
all  primitive  societies,  the  nature  and  climate  of 
Egypt  developed  the  more  fertile  and  definite  idea 
of  an  arrangement  of  the  forces  and  beings  of  the 
sensible  world  into,  regular  armies,  some  of  which 
are  man's  allies  and  preside  over  the  progress  of 
the  world,  while  others  try  to  harass  the  world 
and  so  hurt  man.  The  comprehension  of  con- 
sequences was  followed  by  the  comprehension  of 
the  necessity  of  social  order,  the  comprehension  of 
social  interest,  etc.  Owing  simply  to  its  complex 
origin,  Egyptian  conscience  never  succeeded,  in  its 
reasoned  elaboration  of  duties,  in  separating  ritual 
tabu  from  the  obligation  of  the  moral  domain. 
These  were  for  the  Egyptian  two  different  forms 
of  the  necessary  co-operation  of  men  for  the  main- 
taining of  the  order  requisite  to  society. 

A  satisfying  counter-proof  of  this  view  is  supplied  by  a 
comparison  with  a  certain  number  of  living  races  in  the  un- 
civilized parts  of  Africa.  It  might  be  concluded  that  the 
degree  of  organization  of  the  moral  conscience  in  Africa  is 


CONSCIENCE  (Greek  and  Roman) 


37 


usually  proportionate  to  the  clearneas  of  the  conception  of 
order  in  the  terrestrial  world,  meteorological  or  astronomical 
(cf.,  e.g.,  the  comparative  series  of  the  collection  of  Mono- 
graphics  descriptives  by  Van  Overbergh,  Brussels,  1907 ff.,  with 
what  is  said  of  the  Bavili  and  of  Benin  by  R.  E.  Dennett,  At  the 
Back  of  the  Black  Man's  Mind,  London,  1906,  and  Nigeria 
St%tdies,  1910,  for  the  various  manifestations  of  conscience 
among  these  peoples). 

The  Egyptian  idea,  then,  ends  in  something 
very  analogous  to  the  statement  of  Chinese 
wisdom,  that  the  natural  order  of  the  world  is 
bound  up  with  its  political,  social,  and  moral 
order,  and  is  even  quite  identical  with  it. 
Only— in  spite  of  passages  of  certain  texts — the 
Egyptians  do  not  seem  to  have  been  able  to 
formulate  this  view  with  the  same  theoretical 
clearness.  It  is  in  any  case  curious  to  notice — 
and  here  we  have  probably  more  than  a  simple 
coincidence — that,  just  as  the  sanctions  of  Taoism 
in  China  are  of  late  date,  so  in  Egypt  the  organi- 
zation of  definite  sanctions  (rewards  and  punish- 
ments in  permanent  categories)  did  not  appear 
until  well  after  the  actual  organization  of  the 
moral  conscience. 

The  history  of  this  organization  will  be  discussed  in  art.  Ethics. 
We  need  only  observe  here  (1)  that  the  material  koo-ij.os  has 
become  harmony,  equity,  and  moral  and  intellectual  truth  by 
a  series  of  evolutions  which  can  be  shown  philologically  by  the 
series  of  Egyptian  texts,  and  that  this  series  is  analogous  to  the 
series  which  has  gradually  transformed  the  data  on  the  human 
voice,  cry,  or  vibration,  into  concepts  where  the  word  '  voice ' 
is  taken  to  mean  the  spoken  word,  and  then  becomes  the 
equivalent  of  A070S  ;  and  (2)  that  the  appearance  of  the  moral 
conscience,  based  on  the  comprehension  of  the  kocttxos,  does 
not  in  any  way  assume  the  attribution  of  a  properly  so-called 
moral  character  to  the  beings  or  forces  directing  the  «do>io?. 
These  simply  did  their  own  work  in  this  world,  without  ever 
making  any  express  demand  upon  the  Egyptian's  co-operation  ; 
and  the  latter  simply  sought,  for  his  own  good,  to  bring  his 
efforts  into  harmony  with  those  of  the  directors  of  the  supposed 
order.  Hence  he  derived,  among  innumerable  other  acquisi- 
tions, a  certain  number  of  ideas  on  conscience,  morality, 
interdictions,  obligations,  etc.  A  significant  fact  in  this 
respect  is  that,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  the  sanctions  of  these 
obligations  and  interdictions  are  tacked  on  to  all  possible  kinds 
of  beings  and  things,  except  beings  of  a  Divine  character. 

Literature. — As  was  said  at  the  beginning,  the  only  work 
really  dealing  with  the  subject  is  W.  M.  Flinders  Petrie's 
little  book,  Religion  and  Conscience  in  Ancient  Egypt,  London, 
189S.  Even  here  we  must  observe  that  the  real  question  of 
conscience  is  treated  only  on  pp.  86-109,  the  rest  of  the  book 
being  practically  given  up  to  a  summary  of  Egyptian  mythology 
(pp.  1-85),  and  an  examination  of  the  vanous  categories  of 
duties  (pp.  109-163).  GEORGE  FOUCART. 

CONSCIENCE  (Greek  and  Roman).— I. 
GREEK. — I.  Definition. — Conscience  operates 
when  the  individual  passes  an  intellectual  judg- 
ment on  definite  acts,  accomplished  or  purposed, 
of  his  own,  and  decides  whether  these  acts  are 
right  or  wrong.  Such  judgments,  being  self- 
regarding,  are  always  accompanied  by  self-satis- 
faction, or  self-dissatisfaction,  according  as  the 
individual  feels  he  has  fulfilled,  or  fallen  short  of, 
the  moral  law ;  conscience  punishes  or  approves, 
deters  or  suggests.  It  has  an  intellectual  side  and 
an  emotional  side ;  it  may  be  enlightened  or  the 
reverse,  sensitive  or  the  reverse.  Its  enlighten- 
ment is  to  be  estimated  by  the  moral  ideal  of 
the  individual ;  he  may  obey  the  moral  law  through 
fear  of  punishment  here  or  hereafter ;  through 
hope  of  reward  here  or  hereafter ;  or  simply  in 
order  to  realize  the  ideal  self.  The  most  educated 
conscience  is  that  of  the  man  who  has  the  highest 
ideal,  who  wishes  to  realize  the  best  life  of  which 
humanity  is  capable.  The  sensitiveness  of  con- 
science depends  partly  upon  heredity,  and  partly 
upon  habit  and  training.  Some  people  naturally 
feel  their  shortcomings  more  acutely  than  others, 
while  indulgence  in  vice  always  tends  to  lessen  the 
shame  felt  at  such  indulgence. 

2.  Homer  and  early  times. — Although  there  is 
embedded  in  the  Greek  language  the  notion,  in 
later  times  developed  by  philosophers,  that  virtue 
and  sin  have  an  intellectual  side  (Homer's  phrase 
for    '  versed    in    wickedness '    is     aBtnlo-rta    eMcis, 


'  knowing  lawless  deeds '  [see,  for  example,  Od.  ix. 
189,  428,  xx.  287]),  yet  the  most  common  moral 
terms  used  in  early  times  refer  to  the  emotional 
side  of  conscience.  In  Homer  we  have:  (1)  alows 
(aide'o/xai),  used  of  those  who  feel  reverence  towards 
the  gods  (II.  xxiv.  503 ;  Od.  ix.  269,  xxi.  28), 
towards  suppliants  or  guests  (II.  i.  23,  377,  xxi. 
74,  xxii.  419 ;  Od.  iii.  96,  iv.  326),  or  of  those  who 
inhibit  their  passions  in  order  to  realize  some 
higher  end  (II.  v.  530,  vi.  442,  vii.  93,  xiii.  122, 
xv.  561,  657,  661,  xxiv.  44  ;  Od.  iii.  24,  vi.  66,  221, 
viii.  172,  324,  480,  xiv.  146,  xx.  171).  The  sub- 
stantive may  be  rendered  '  shame  at  offending  gods 
or  men,'  'respect  for  the  moral  rebuke  of  others,' 
'modesty,'  'sense  of  honour,'  'self-respect.'  (2) 
If  aidiis  sometimes  approximates  to  the  '  lawgiving 
conscience '  which  precedes  an  act,  alo-xivo/tat  (Od. 
vii.  305,  xviii.  12,  xxi.  323)  generally  represents 
the  shame  (or  the  fear  of  it)  inflicted  by  the 
'judging  conscience,'  although  it  is  not  always 
possible  to  distinguish  between  the  terms.  (3) 
The  indignation  felt  by  others  at  transgression  is 
represented  by  vf/ieo-is  (II.  vi.  351  ;  Od.  ii.  136, 
xxii.  40),  but  occasionally  vip.e<ns  is  self-regarding 
(Od.  ii.  64,  138,  iv.  158 ;  II.  xvi.  544,  xvii.  254), 
and  on  one  occasion  (Od.  i.  263)  deois  ve/xeo-ifero 
means  '  he  stood  in  awe  of  the  gods.'  (4)  A  feeling 
of  reverence  for  the  rights  of  humanity  is  expressed 
in  Ii.  xviii.  178  by  <r^Sas,  and  in  II.  vi.  417  by  the 
verb  o-efiaao-aTO. 

The  moral  sanctions  of  the  Homeric  Greek  were 
thus  (i.)  fear  of  the  gods,  (ii. )  respect  for  public 
opinion  (dtdns  dvdpuv,  Od.  xxi.  323),  and  (iii.)  self- 
respect  (Helen  calls  herself  '  a  dog,'  II.  vi.  356),  and 
a  sense  of  honour  which  sometimes  led  to  deeds  of 
heroism.  Achilles  would  rather  die  than  fail  to 
avenge  his  friend  Patroclus  (II.  xviii.  95 ff.) — an 
instance  of  devotion  to  duty  which  Socrates,  in  the 
Platonic  Apology  (28  C  D),  quotes  with  strong 
approval.  Conscience,  in  fact,  was  acting,  although 
as  yet  no  special  word  existed  to  represent  it, 
while  the  intellectual  side  was  less  developed  than 
the  emotional. 

3.  Individual  merged  in  the  citizen. — The  char- 
acteristically Greek  respect  for  public  opinion 
found  freer  scope  as  city  life  developed,  and  as 
State  discipline  became  the  chief  educator  of  the 
Greek  people.  The  citizen  looked  upon  morality 
as  submission  to  the  will  of  a  corporate  body. 
'  We  lie  here  in  obedience  to  our  country's  com- 
mands,' was  the  epitaph  of  the  noblest  heroes  that 
Greece  ever  produced.  The  law,  in  fact,  was 
invested  with  a  peculiar  sanctity  of  its  own,  and 
the  individual  found  moral  satisfaction  in  yielding 
implicit  obedience  to  the  powers  that  be  ;  in  modern 
language,  he  surrendered  his  conscience  to  the 
general  conscience,  and  was  content  to  be  guided 
by  the  latter.  Plato  (Crito,  51  E)  makes  Socrates 
personify  the  Laws,  who  point  out  that  every 
citizen  has  virtually  agreed  to  abide  by  them,  and 
not  to  prefer  his  own  sense  of  right  and  wrong. 
That  such  was  the  belief  of  the  historical  Socrates 
is  shown  by  Xenoph.  Mem.  iv.  iv.  12,  where  t6 
v6fu/iov  is  equated  with  to  dlKatov.  It  was  generally 
felt  that  the  vast  majority  of  men  needed  some 
strong  external  constraint.  Hesiod  ( Works,  182  ff.) 
dreads  the  departure  of  moral  fear  from  the  earth, 
and  the  Platonic  Protagoras  (Prot.  322  B  C)  calls 
alStbs  and  Sk>j  the  bonds  of  political  and  social  life. 
The  language  of  iEschylus  is  stronger  still.  '  Who,' 
asks  Athene  (Eum.  699),  '  is  righteous  if  he  fear 
nothing?'  In  a  remarkable  passage  of  the  Ajax 
of  Sophocles  (1073  ff.)  it  is  stated  that  <t>6§os  and 
aiSds  are  a  necessary  defence  to  both  States  and 
armies ;  that  only  oVos  and  al<rxvvn  can  bring  a 
man  safety.  Plato,  in  a  yet  more  striking  passage 
(Laws,  699  C),  makes  0o/3os  and  alBws  responsible 
for    the    Athenian    victories    over    Persia.      The 


38 


CONSCIENCE  (Greek  and  Roman) 


Athenians,  he  says,  had  a  despotic  mistress  in 
alSilis,  through  whom  they  were  the  willing  slaves 
of  the  laws  (698  B),  and  those  who  would  be  good 
must  be  similarly  disciplined. 

4.  Unwritten  laws. — But,  in  spite  of  the  ten- 
dency to  merge  morality  in  legality,  the  Greek 
was  aware  that  the  individual  ought  to  form 
moral  judgments  for  himself  when  the  laws  were 
silent.  The  jurymen  at  Athens  swore  to  decide 
suits  according  to  the  laws,  but,  when  these  were 
no  guide,  to  judge  the  case  conscientiously  (yvuipvQ 
tjj  dptcTTj,  Aristotle,  Bhet.  i.  15.  5 ;  cf.  .<Escn.  Eum. 
674).  Again,  the  Greek  acknowledged  certain  great 
'unwritten  laws,'  of  which  Socrates  (Xenoph. 
Mem.  TV.  iv.  19  f.)  mentions  four— to  worship  the 

fods,  honour  parents,  avoid  incest,  and  repay 
enefactors.  Occasionally  the  unwritten  laws 
might  clash  with  those  of  the  State  ;  then  the 
individual  must  decide  between  them.  The  tra- 
gedians are  constantly  depicting  situations  in 
which  a  character  has  to  choose  between  the 
traditional  code  and  some  higher  moral  end. 
Philoctetes  is  a  good  example,  while  Antigone 
readily  faces  death  rather  than  obey  the  edict  of 
Creon,  and,  by  leaving  her  brother  unburied, 
violate  the  unwritten  laws. 

5.  Decay  of  State  discipline. — It  is  remarkable 
that  the  notion  of  conscience  was  more  clearly 
apprehended  just  at  the  time  when  the  morality 
of  the  masses  began  to  decline,  that  is,  during  the 
period  subsequent  to  the  outbreak  of  the  Pelopon- 
nesian  War.  The  reason  is  partly  that,  as 
the  State  discipline  slackened,  the  vicious  and 
weaker  characters,  no  longer  having  so  firm  a 
check  upon  them,  grew  more  immoral,  while  the 
stronger  and  nobler  natures  (not  necessarily  the 
philosophers)  learned  to  obey  an  inner  law  of 
righteousness.  But  the  latter  were  comparatively 
few,  and  Plato,  in  the  second  book  of  the  Republic, 
repeats  the  story  of  Gyges'  ring  in  such  a  way  as 
to  show  his  own  belief  that  the  many  are  incapable 
of  being  virtuous  for  the  sake  of  virtue. 

6.  Decay  of  State  religion. — Not  only  the  State 
discipline,  but  the  belief  in  the  State  religion,  had 
by  this  time  lost  much  of  the  power  it  once  pos- 
sessed. Few  thinking  men  continued  to  believe 
in  the  existence,  let  alone  the  providence,  of  Zeus, 
Apollo,  and  the  other  Olympians.  The  story  told 
by  Herodotus  (vi.  86)  of  Glaucus  and  the  Delphic 
oracle  illustrates  how  the  State  religion  had  once 
been,  in  some  respects  at  least,  a  good  moral 
influence.  When,  however,  the  Divine  sanction 
failed  to  exert  effective  control,  the  individual 
conscience  more  clearly  manifested  itself.  In  yet 
another  way  did  the  decay  of  belief  in  the  Olympic 
pantheon  further  the  development  of  the  idea  of 
conscience :  the  early  Greek  had  thought,  with  a 
strange  inconsistency,  that  the  gods  both  tempted 
men  to  sin  and  punished  sin ;  at  first  he  blamed 
the  gods  for  leading  him  astray  ;  then,  deprived  of 
this  excuse,  he  began  to  blame  himself. 

7.  Other  components  in  Greek  religion. — But 
there  were  other  and  more  abiding  components 
than  Olympian  worship  in  the  religion  of  the  Greeks. 
One  should  note  the  ipapfiaKds,  or  scapegoat,  men- 
tioned by  Hipponax  (frag.  4ff.,  ed.  Bergk)  and 
Aristophanes  [Frogs,  733).  Fear  of  spirits  (prob- 
ably Pelasgian  in  origin,  as  it  is  not  to  be  found 
in  Homer),  especially  dread  of  a  murdered  man's 
ghost,  gave  rise  .to  the  ideas  of  an  avenging 
deity  (dXacrruip),  and  of  blood-guilt  (iraKafivcuos, 
rpotrTptnrcuos,  (va-ff)s).  The  latter  might  infect  a 
whole  family,  or  even  a  State  (Thuc.  vii.  18). 
Doubtless  at  first  the  infection  (/tlaa/ia,  /tiVos)  was 
regarded  as  something  material,  to  be  cleansed  by 
expiatory  ceremonies,  or  it  might  even  be  per- 
Bonified  (Furies,  /j.rp-pbs  Ijkotoi  x6ves  [^Esch.  Choeph. 
1051]) ;  but  in  time  the  doctrine  was  spiritualized. 


Xenophon  (Cyrop.  VIII.  vii.  18)  speaks  of  the  feara 
that  the  souls  of  wronged  persons  bring  upon 
murderers,  and  of  the  avenging  spirits  (iraXaiwalovs) 
which  they  cause  to  visit  the  unholy  ;  while  Euri- 
pides interprets  the  Furies  of  iEschylus  as  the 
stings  of  conscience  (Orestes,  396). 

Orphism  introduced  the  doctrine  that  the  soul 
was  exiled  from  heaven  because  of  sin,  and  that 
reunion  could  be  achieved  only  by  purification. 
In  Homer  the  gods  lead  men  to  transgress,  but 
Orphism  taught  that  guilt  arose  from  man  himself. 
Abstinence  and  rites  were  the  Orphic  means  of 
cleansing ;  but,  however  degrading  this  teaching 
might  be  in  unscrupulous  hands  (Plato,  Rep.  ii. 
364  E),  it  was  possible  to  give  it  a  spiritual 
interpretation  (v^arevaai  ko.k6t7;tos  [Empedocles, 
406,  ed.  Karsten]),  and  it  most  certainly  helped  to 
foster  a  sense  of  sin.  The  doctrine  of  6/M>Lans 
(becoming  like  unto  God)  is  Orphic  in  origin,  and 
gave  to  the  world  an  ideal  which  increased  in 
moral  value  as  the  idea  of  the  Divine  nature  was 
purified  and  ennobled.  According  to  Orphism, 
man  was  good  and  bad,  Divine  and  human.  The 
realization  of  man's  dual  nature  must  have  tended 
to  develop  the  individual  conscience.  In  the 
Pythagorean  sect,  which  owed  much  to  Orphism, 
examination  of  the  conscience  was  enjoined  (ac- 
cording to  C.  Martha,  Etudesmorales  sur  Vantiquiti, 
1883)  from  early  times,  and  in  the  Hippolytus  of 
Euripides  we  have  an  Orphic  who  is  horrified  at 
the  suggestion  to  commit  a  sexual  offence.  In  the 
history  of  morals  the  idea  of  physical  impurity 
generally  precedes,  and  leads  up  to,  the  conception 
of  a  guilty  soul. 

8.  Morality  and  the  human  heart. — Whatever  the 
origin  may  have  been,  the  5th  cent,  witnessed  the 
development  of  the  idea  that  the  human  soul  (fvxo, 
<ptifis,  rppfy,  vovs)  is  the  supreme  judge  in  the  sphere 
of  morality.  The  mere  fact  that  philosophers  like 
Xenophanes  criticized  the  Homeric  theology  on 
moral  grounds,  shows  that  they  regarded  human 
nature  as  superior  to  religious  tradition.  This 
thought  is  specially  prominent  in  the  plays  of 
Euripides.  The  Ion  is  an  angry  protest  of  the 
human  soul  against  a  conscienceless  god  who 
ravishes  maids  and  leaves  them  to  their  shame 
(Ion,  892  ;  cf .  880).  The  heart  of  man  is  considered 
by  Euripides  to  be  the  seat — possibly  the  source — 
of  virtue  and  of  vice.  Chastity  is  said  to  reside  in 
the  human  <pi<xis  (Bacchce,  314,  315,  Hipp.  79,  Tro. 
987,  988) ;  Theonoe  (ZW.1002,  1003)  has  a  '  mighty 
shrine  of  righteousness'  in  her  <piais ;  the  unhappy 
Phaedra  exclaims,  '  My  hands  are  pure  ;  the  stain 
is  on  my  soul'  (Hipp.  317).  Conscience  the  law- 
giver and  conscience  the  accuser  are  both  manifest 
in  these  dramas.  The  countryman  in  the  Electro, 
is  too  honourable  to  consummate  the  marriage 
which  has  been  forced  upon  Electra ;  Macaria  goes 
voluntarily  and  readily  to  an  awful  death  in  order 
to  save  her  kindred  ;  Orestes  is  tormented  by  the 
consciousness  of  matricide.  Like  many  other  men 
of  a  sensitive  moral  nature,  Euripides  is  painfully 
aware  that  the  times  are  out  of  joint ;  oaths  are 
no  longer  sacred,  and  alStis  has  vanished  from  the 
earth  (Medea,  439).  This  dramatist,  perhaps  more 
than  his  great  predecessors,  admired  the  beauty  of 
self-sacrifice;  Alcestis  and  Macaria  are  worthy 
successors  to  Prometheus  and  Antigone. 

The  Greek  of  the  5th  cent,  was  thus  fully  aware  of  the 
working  of  conscience,  and  he  began  to  use  special  words  _  to 
describe  it.  These  laid  stress,  not  upon  the  emotion  which 
follows  a  judgment  of  conscience,  but  upon  the  intellectual 
character  of  that  judgment.  One  word  is  otWoio,  '  deep 
thought*  (Eurip.  And.  805),  which  does  not  appear  to  have 
become  popular  in  the  moral  sense.  Another  is  avveaa, 
'understanding,1  used  by  Euripides  to  describe  the  remorBe  of 
Orestes  (Or.  396),  by  Menander  (fr.  incert.  86,  Meineke),  who 
says  that  'conscience  doth  make  cowards,'  and  by  Polybiua 
(xvni.  xxvi.  13).  The  last  passage  is  to  this  effect  :  *  There  ia 
no  more  terrible  witness,  or  more  formidable  accuser,  than  the 
conscience  that  dwells  in  each  man's  soul.'     But  the  most 


CONSCIENCE  (Greek  and  Roman) 


common  term  is  the  verb  tnivotSa,  with  its  participial  substan- 
tive rb  (TvcetSoy,  meaning  either  (a) '  to  be  cognizant,'  or  (6) '  to 
share  in  the  knowledge  of  another.'  This  verb  expresses  at 
once  the  intellectual  character  of  a  judgment  of  conscience 
and  the  dual  nature  of  human  personality.  It  is  impossible  to 
decide  when  the  term  first  acquired  its  moral  meaning,  but  it  is 
used  of  a  clear  conscience  by  Sophocles  (ap.  Stob.  Flor.  xxiv.  6) 
and  (with  a  negative)  by  Plato  (Rep.  S31  A,  ry  fj.T}Skv  eauTw 
aSiKov  £vyci5oTi  y&eia  eAirts),  and  of  a  guilty  conscience  by 
Euripides  (Or.  396)  and  by  Aristophanes  (IF asps,  999,  Thesin. 
477).  StobeBUS  has  collected  a  number  of  passages  dealing  with 
rb  crwctSos  in  his  Florilegium,  ch.  xxiv.,  and  it  is  interesting  to 
note  that  he  attributes  to  Pythagoras  an  exhortation  '  to  feel 
shame  most  of  all  before  oneself,'  and  the  statement  that 
conscience  deals  more  cruel  blows  than  the  lash.  We  are 
reminded  that  the  Pythagoreans  laid  stress  upon  self-examina- 
tion, not  as  an  exercise  of  memory,  but  as  a  moral  discipline. 

One  other  word  for  conscience  may  be  noted  here.  A  scruple 
is  sometimes  called  eyih&iuov,  '  something  l}'ing  heavy  on  the 
heart '  (Herod,  viii.  64 ;  Thuc.  vii.  50 ;  Antipho,  Tetral.  ii.  1,  2, 
4,  9 ;  Soph.  (Ed.  Tyr.  739 ;  Eurip.  Her.  Fur.  722). 

9.  Shame  before  the  self. — A  clearer  distinction 
now  begins  to  be  drawn  between  the  shame  which 
results  from  fear  of  punishment  or  disgrace,  and 
the  shame  which  accompanies  loss  of  self-respect. 
Democritus,  a  profound  moralist  without  an  ethical 
system,  looks  for  happiness  in  serenity  of  soul 
(fr.  9-11,  ed.  Natorp).  Sin  should  be  avoided,  not 
through  fear,  but  because  it  ought  to  be  avoided 
(Jid  t6  dtov,  fr.  45).  Even  when  alone,  a  man 
ought  not  to  do  or  say  anything  base.  He  should 
be  ashamed  before  himself  rather  than  before 
others  (fr.  42).  He  should  no  more  do  evil  when 
nobody  will  learn  about  it  than  when  everybody 
will  do  so  ;  it  is  best  to  reverence  oneself  (^airc-di' 
futKuTTa  aldefodai,  fr.  43).  The  Attic  orators  not 
only  emphasize  the  uneasiness  of  conscience  result- 
ing from  the  fear  of  discovery,  but  also  extol  the 
life  that  is  free  from  self-reproach,  although  the 
two  ideas  are  sometimes  combined.  Antipho 
(Tetral.  i.  3,  3)  mentions  as  moral  checks  both  fear 
(06/Sos)  and  dread  of  sin  (aSiula),  and  he  thinks  that 
a  j  ury  will  be  influenced  by  respect  for  '  the  gods, 
piety  (roC  ei)<re/SoOs),  and  themselves '  (Or.  vi.  3,  cf. 
also  vi.  1).  Isocrates  (Nic.  39  A)  bids  us  envy  not 
the  rich,  but  those  conscious  of  no  sin.  Fear  of 
punishment  or  of  disgrace  may  be  implied  here, 
but  a  clearer  note  is  sounded  in  [Isocrates]  5  B : 
'  Never  expect  to  hide  a  sin.  Even  if  others  learn 
nothing  of  it,  you  will  be  conscious  of  it  yourself.' 
Lysias  (Or.  xix.  59)  speaks  of  one  who  thought 
that  a  good  man  ought  to  help  his  friends,  even 
though  nobody  should  know  about  it.  In  the 
pseudo-Demosthenic  speech  against  Aristogiton, 
the  writer  says  (780)  that  '  there  are  altars  of 
justice,  discipline,  and  honour  (alSovs)  among  all 
men  ;  the  fairest  and  holiest  are  in  the  soul  and 
nature  of  the  individual.'  Socrates  is  made  in  the 
Xenophontic  Apology  (§  5)  to  avow  that  in  the 
past  he  has  enjoyed  the  most  pleasant  possession 
a  man  can  have,  the  consciousness  that  his  life  has 
always  been  holy  and  just  (cf.  also  Xen.  Apol. 
§  24,  and  Stob.  Flor.  xxiv.  13).  Finally,  a  frag- 
ment of  the  comic  poet  Diphilus  (ap.  Stob.  xxiv.  1) 
denies  that  a  man  who  is  not  ashamed  before  him- 
self when  he  has  done  wrong  can  be  ashamed  before 
others  who  are  ignorant  of  it. 

10.  Philosophy  and  conscience. — It  has  been 
maintained,  and  as  energetically  denied,  that  this 
clearer  realization  of  the  shamefulness  of  sin  is 
to  be  attributed  to  the  work  of  the  philosophers. 
Both  seem  to  have  been  due  to  the  same  cause, 
namely,  the  decay  of  old  beliefs,  but  it  is  perhaps 
unreasonable  to  deny  a  real,  though  indefinite, 
influence  to  philosophic  ethics.  It  should  be 
noticed,  however,  that  (rivoida  and  to  avveiSbs  are 
popular,  not  philosophic,  expressions. 

There  are  plenty  of  examples  throughout  the 
course  of  Greek  literature  and  Greek  history  of 
the  individual  deliberately  following  the  dictates 
of  his  better  self,  but  such  acts  are  rarely  associ- 
ated with  the  words  employed  to  designate  '  con- 


science.' The  latter  (7-0  <rvvci.56s,  etc.)  generally 
refer,  not  to  the  law-making  conscience,  but  to 
an  adverse  decision  of  the  judging  conscience,  and 
to  the  self-dissatisfaction  which  accompanies  it. 
Now,  it  was  with  the  enlightenment  of  morality 
that  Greek  ethical  philosophy  chiefly  concerned 
itself.  As  a  rule  it  passed  over  the  shame  that 
accompanies  wrong-doing,  and  never  tried  to  make 
it  the  highest  moral  motive.  Convinced  that  vice 
is  ignorance,  both  Socrates  and  Plato  devoted  their 
lives  to  educating  the  moral  sense  ;  and  Plato 
constantly  insists  that  mere  conscientiousness, 
like  that,  for  example,  of  Euthyphro,  is  not  suffi- 
cient. But  if  sin  is  nothing  more  than  a  mistaken 
notion  of  what  is  good,  no  place  is  left  for  shame 
and  remorse.  Carried  to  its  logical  conclusion, 
the  doctrine  denies  either  the  existence  or  the 
reasonableness  of  moral  praise  and  moral  blame. 
Socrates  trusted  to  reason  to  guide  him  aright 
in  moral  questions,  and  doubtless  fathered  any 
scruples  he  might  occasionally  feel  on  his  Saifidvtov 
— probably  a  hallucination  of  the  sense  of  hearing. 

(1)  Plato. — Plato  regarded  as  true  morality  only 
that  which  springs  from  knowledge  of  the  idea  of 
good.  Morality  founded  on  fear  he  continually 
disparages,  especially  if  the  fear  be  that  of  puWic 
opinion  (cf.  Crito,  47  C,  Phmdo,  82  A  B,  and  Euthy- 
phro, 12  C),  though  he  admitted  that  the  majority 
of  men  were  incapable  of  '  philosophic '  virtue,  and 
should  be  compelled  to  obey,  not  the  fluctuating 
general  conscience,  but  the  dictates  of  philosophic 
rulers  (Rep.  519,  520).  Consequently,  alStis  is  for 
the  many  rather  than  for  the  few,  and  it  and  fear 
form  the  two  warders  of  the  ideal  State  (Rep. 
465  B).  Towards  the  end  of  his  life,  Plato  empha- 
sized more  the  value  of  awe  and  reverence.  Every 
legislator,  he  says  in  the  Laws  (647  A),  will  hold 
moral  fear  in  high  honour :  fear,  law,  and  true 
reason  are  the  principles  that  keep  the  appetites 
in  check  (783  A)  ;  strong  public  opinion  restrains 
a  man  from  incest,  the  fear  of  committing  which, 
even  unknowingly,  makes  a  man  ready  to  kill 
himself  (GSdipus,  Macareus,  838  C).  But  what 
Plato  valued  was  the  fear  that  checks  crime,  not 
the  shame  that  follows  it,  and  he  therefore  set 
little  store  by  the  popular  conception  of  to  awei.S6% ; 
it  is  the  old  man  Cephalus  in  the  Republic,  the 
representative  of  the  old  morality,  who  is  made  to 
sound  the  praises  of  a  '  conscience  void  of  offence,' 
and  to  enlarge  on  the  terrors  of  the  wicked. 

Conscience  the  lawgiver,  though  working  in  the 
hearts  of  men,  was  as  yet  but  feebly  apprehended 
as  an  idea,  and  herein  the  work  of  Plato  bore  fruit. 
The  keynote  of  his  ethical  philosophy  is  that  the 
really  virtuous  man  must  know  what  the  good  is, 
i.e.  must  have  an  educated  morality.  And  when 
a  man  knows  what  virtue  is,  he  cannot  help  acting 
virtuously ;  for  no  one  is  voluntarily  wicked. 
Sin  is  a  disease  of  the  soul  (Gorgias,  479  B), 
and  he  who  sees  this  will  submit  to  anything, 
even  to  death,  to  rid  himself  of  the  plague.  Even 
though  the  gods  and  men  are  unaware  who  is 
righteous  and  who  is  not,  righteousness  accom- 
panied by  all  the  punishments  of  sin  is  better 
than  unrighteousness  accompanied  by  all  the  re- 
wards of  virtue  (Rep.  366  DE).  Plato  felt  that 
the  enlightened  soul,  brought  face  to  face  with 
sin  in  all  its  nakedness,  would  turn  from  it  in 
disgust. 

(2)  Aristotle. — Aristotle,  taking  the  end  of  man  to 
be  a  full  and  virtuous  life,  the  result  of  habituation 
and  practical  wisdom,  never  discusses  conscience. 
The  first  principles  of  the  science  of  human  con- 
duct, he  thought,  were  perceived  immediately,  by 
a  kind  of  intuition  (at<r8r]<ns,  Ethics,  1142  a).  He 
values  highly  self-respect,  and  the  beauty  and 
desirableness  of  virtuous  actions  ;  alStlis  he  regards 
sometimes  as  modesty,  befitting  only  the  younp 


40 


CONSCIENCE  (Greek  and  Roman; 


(1128  b),  sometimes  as  a  shrinking  from  the  ugli- 
ness of  sin  (1116  a,  1179  b).  Emphasizing  as  much 
as  Plato  the  necessity  of  an  enlightened  intelligence 
for  truly  virtuous  conduct,  Aristotle  did  good 
service  by  insisting  (again  with  Plato,  Laws,  653  B) 
upon  the  importance  of  training  youth  by  habitua- 
tion to  love  good  and  to  hate  evil  (Ethics,  1104  b). 

(3)  Stoics. — It  has  been  held  that  the  Stoics, 
with  their  individualism,  their  doctrine  of  the  self- 
sufficiency  of  man,  their  neglect  of  public  opinion, 
their  elaboration  of  the  idea  of  duty  (irpoerijjcoc, 
KarSpdnifia),  and  their  exhortations  to  live  a  life 
according  to  the  Divine  reason  implanted  in  the 
heart  of  man,  did  much  to  develop  the  notion  of 
conscience.  Some  believe  that  they  coined  the 
word  <rwd8ri<ru,  but  this  is  more  than  unlikely.  By 
<rvvel$r]ins  conscience  is  described  in  the  (of  course 
apocryphal)  sayings  of  Bias  and  Periander  recorded 
by  Stobreus  (Flor.  xxiv.  11,  12),  in  Wis  17",  in  the 
NT,  in  Diodorus  (iv.  65.  7  :  did.  t7jk  awel/h/trw  tov 
/iwoi's  ris  fmvlav  TrepittrTrj),  in  Lucian  (Amoves,  49), 
and  in  the  proverbs  assigned  to  Menander  (Mono- 
sticha,  654  :  conscience  is  a  god  to  all  mortals). 
Chrysippus  (Dicg.  Laert.  vii.  85)  used  the  word, 
but  he  meant,  not  conscience,  but  consciousness. 
Even  the  later  Stoic  writers,  Epictetus  and  Marcus 
Aurelius,  though  they  constantly  mention  the 
action  of  conscience,  seem  purposely  to  avoid  the 
word  <rwe(57/i7is.  The  fact  is  that  all  the  Greek 
words  for  '  conscience '  look,  with  scarcely  an  ex- 
ception, to  conscience  the  judge,  and  are  associated 
with  shame.  Plutarch,  in  his  famous  description 
of  conscience  (Moralia,  476  F),  says,  in  wonderfully 
modern  language,  that  it  wounds  and  pricks  the 
soul.  Thought,  which  softens  other  pains,  only 
increases  this ;  the  guilty  mind  punishes  itself. 
The  Greeks,  familiar  as  they  were  with  the  work- 
ing of  conscience  the  legislator,  had  no  special  word 
to  describe  it,  although  its  emotional  side  is  hinted 
at  in  alSiis.  Now,  the  Stoics  attributed  '  absence 
of  emotion '  (airddeta)  to  their  wise  man ;  yet, 
though  he  would  not  entertain  fear  of  disgrace 
(Diog.  Laert.  vii.  112,  116),  he  would  feel  aldtbs. 
It  was  tke  legislating  conscience,  <5p0is  \6-yos,  that 
the  Stoics  emphasized  ;  but,  while  Roman  Stoicism 
came  to  express  this  by  conscientia,  among  the 
Greeks  it  had  no  generally  recognized  name. 

(4)  Epicureans. — Perhaps  it  was  the  Epicureans 
who  developed  the  idea  of  a  guilty  conscience,  and 
this  would  account  for  the  Stoics  avoiding  the 
term  awelSriais.  At  any  rate,  Epicurus  held  that 
sin  is  an  evil  only  because  of  the  fear  of  discovery 
(Diog.  Laert.  x.  151),  and  a  graphic  description  of 
conscience  the  accuser  is  to  be  found  in  the  poems 
of  the  Epicurean  Lucretius  (de  Rer.  Nat.  iii.  1014- 
1023,  cf.  iv.  1135).  Probably,  however,  philosophy, 
whether  Stoic  or  Epicurean,  had  less  influence  than 
the  facts  of  moral  experience,  which  were  more 
and  more  cossciously  realized  by  the  popular  mind. 

II.  Summary.  —  From  the  earliest  times  the 
Greeks  had  terms  referring  to  the  emotional  side 
of  conscience  in  most  of  its  aspects.  From  the  end 
of  the  5th  cent,  aivtan  and  <r\5voi$a  were  used  to 
denote  the  intellectual  aspect  of  conscience  the 
judge.  Orphism  had  emphasized  the  dual  nature 
of  human  personality,  while  the  gradual  decay  of 
the  State  religion  and  of  State  discipline,  along  with 
the  intellectual  movements  of  the  5th  cent.,  forced 
men  to  realize  that  they  had  a  judge  in  their  own 
hearts.  The  idea,  present  from  the  first,  that  a 
man  should  feel  shame  before  himself  grew  clearer  ; 
the  hatefulness  of  sin  was  more  acknowledged,  and 
is  urged  with  unsurpassed  moral  force  in  the  writ- 
ings of  Plato.  From  the  first  it  was  felt  that  man 
owes  allegiance  to  his  better  self ;  that  he  must 
obey,  not  only  the  traditional  code,  but  the  dictates 
of  an  inner  law.  Hinted  at  occasionally  in  alddis, 
this  feeling  was  not  crystallized  into  a  special  term  ; 


but  the  philosophers  laid  stress  upon  educating 
this  better  self,  and  thereby  enlightening  morality. 
Of  the  individualistic  schools,  the  Stoics  insisted 
on  obedience  to  an  inner  law  of  reason,  the  Epi- 
cureans on  the  fears  that  follow  wrong-doing.  The 
growth  of  the  idea  of  conscience  was  due  to  the 
development  of  the  people ;  philosophy  merely 
tried  to  inspire  higher  ideals  by  which  conscience 
might  judge.  As  the  notion  of  conscience  de- 
veloped, morality  appears  to  have  declined.  The 
relaxation  of  the  Donds  of  external  discipline, 
while  it  caused  the  few  to  acknowledge  an  inner 
judge  and  lawgiver,  allowed  the  many  to  sink  into 
superstition  and  moral  degradation. 

It  should  be  noticed  in  conclusion  that  among 
the  Greeks  conscience  was  as  yet  scarcely  con- 
nected with  religion.  The  Christian's  conscience 
accuses  the  sinner  before  God  ;  the  Greek's  con- 
science accused  him  before  himself.  Cf.  general 
art.  Conscience. 

II.  BOM  AN.—  The  Greeks,  although  they  had 
many  words  denoting  the  emotions  connected  with 
moral  self-criticism,  failed  to  bring  into  common 
use  any  term  summing  up  all  their  experience  of 
the  action  of  conscience ;  the  Romans,  richer  in 
words  denoting  obligation,  crystallized  into  con- 
scientia the  different  aspects  of  conscience  soon 
after  Stoic  teaching  began  to  be  effective. 

i.  Common  moral  terms. — Pietas,  one  of  the 
commonest  moral  terms,  signifies  a  sense  of  duty, 
not  only  towards  the  gods  (Cicero,  de  Nat.  Deor.  i. 
115,  Top.  90),  but  also  towards  country,  parents, 
and  friends.  It  combines  the  notions  of' loyalty, 
respect,  and  (sometimes)  affection.  Fides  (faithful- 
ness, trustworthiness),  'the  foundation  of  justice' 
(Cic.  de  Off.  i.  23),  was  thought  to  be  a  virtue 
peculiarly  characteristic  of  the  early  Romans.  It 
is  combined  with  pudor  and  probitas  in  Cicero  (de 
Rep.  iii.  28),  and  moralists  insisted  that  it  meant 
loyalty  to  intention  rather  than  to  the  spoken 
word  (de  Off.  i.  40).  The  formula  ex  animi 
sententia  was  used  of  conscientious  fulfilment  of 
an  oath,  while  pudor  denoted  the  shame  which 
prevents  or  follows  a  violation  of  the  moral  law. 
But  in  no  term  is  the  notion  of  conscience  more 
clearly  implied  than  in  religio.  Originally  used 
of  a  feeling  of  awe  towards  an  unknown  object,  it 
came  to  mean  a  scruple  as  to  the  proper  means  of 
propitiating  a  divinity.  Cicero  distinguishes  it 
from  superstitio  ;  and  though,  when  applied  to  the 
worship  of  the  gods,  it  contains  little  moral  mean- 
ing, when  used  metaphorically  it  often  denotes  or 
implies  the  action  of  conscience.  Thus  Cicero  com- 
bines it  with  auctoritas,  mquitas,  fides,  and  timor 
in  describing  the  character  of  certain  witnesses,  and 
it  often  denotes  conscientious  carrying  out  of  a 
duty  (ad  Fam.  xi.  29,  pro  Font.  xiv.  [40],  pro 
Roscio  Com.  xv.  [45] ;  Livy,  xxiii.  11).  The  remorse 
caused  by  conscience  is  not  infrequently  described 
by  such  phrases  as  morsus  animi  (Livy,  vi.  34),  tor- 
menta  pectoris  (Tac.  Ann.  vi.  6),  anAflagclla  mentis 
(Quint.  Declam.  xii.  28 ;  cf.  Juv.  xiii.  194,  195). 

2.  Obligation  to  external,  and  to  internal,  law. 
— In  early  times  obligation  was  felt  to  an  ex- 
ternal moral  law ;  it  was  only  when  the  Republic 
was  tottering  to  its  fall,  and  the  State  religion 
ceased  to  hold  the  hearts  and  minds  of  men,  that 
the  inner  voice  of  conscience  was  heard  more 
clearly.  We  cannot  trace  the  development  of  the 
idea  so  well  as  in  the  case  of  Greece,  because,  with 
the  exception  of  Plautus  and  Terence  (who  adapted 
or  translated  Greek  originals),  there  is  very  little 
Latin  literature  of  earlier  date  than  the  1st  cent. 
B.C.  But  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  much  of  the 
change  was  due  to  the  teaching  of  the  Stoics,  especi- 
ally of  Posidonius  and  Panaetius,  who  exhorted  men 
to  follow  the  deity  within  them,  i.e.  the  Divine 
reason,  of  which  a  portion  has  been  given  to  each 


CONSCIENCE  (Jewish) 


41 


individual.  The  conception  of  this  deity  (Sal/iuv), 
this  fragment  of  the  Divine  mind,  this  guide  and 
protector,  must  have  helped  to  develop  the  notion 
of  conscience  ;  indeed,  Epietetus  (fr.  97)  speaks  of 
God  handing  men  over  to  be  guarded  by  '  their 
innate  conscience.'  Cicero,  in  speaking  of  the 
sanctity  of  an  oath,  warns  us  (de  Off.  iii.  44)  that 
he  who  takes  an  oath  summons  as  witness  God, 
'  that  is,  his  own  mind ' ;  and  the  same  writer  is  the 
first  to  employ  the  noun  conscientia  (pro  Boscio 
Am.  67). 

The  verb  conscire  occurs  only  once  (Hor.  Ep. 
I.  i.  61),  and  is  there  used  (with  a  negative)  of  a 
clear  conscience.  Conscius  is  often  used  without 
any  moral  meaning,  but  once  in  Plautus  {Most. 
544)  animus  conscius  has  the  sense  of  a  guilty  con- 
science ;  this  phrase  and  mens  conscia  are  occasion- 
ally found  with  the  same  meaning  in  later  writers 
(Lucret.  iii.  1018,  iv.  1135  ;  Ovid,  Fasti,  i.  485  ; 
Sallust,  Cat.  14).  Ovid  {Fasti,  iv.  311)  uses  conscia 
mens  recti  of  a  clear  conscience  that  laughs  at 
slander;  but  in  Virgil  (Aen.  i.  604),  mens  sibi 
conscia  recti  probably  refers  to  conscience  the 
guide,  which  leads  men  to  differentiate  between 
right  and  wrong. 

In  the  sense  of  '  consciousness,'  conscientia  is 
rare,  but  it  is  exceedingly  common  in  most  writers 
after  Cicero  with  the  meaning  '  conscience.'  The 
first  time  it  occurs  it  is  joined  to  animi  (Cic.  pro 
Roscio  Am.  67,  '  conscientiae  animi  terrent ' — the 
writer's  rationalistic  interpretation  of  the  Furies), 
and,  as  Mulder  remarks  {De  conscientim  notione,  p. 
97  f . ),  the  expressions  animi  conscientia,  mentis  con- 
scientia (the  latter  in  Cic.  pro  Cluent.  159)  are 
intermediate  between  the  vague  pectus,  animus, 
mens,  on  the  one  hand,  and  plain  conscientia  with 
its  full  moral  meaning  on  the  other. 

From  Cicero  onwards  the  idea  of  conscience 
grows  more  distinct  and  more  full  of  meaning. 
It  is  regarded  as  Divine  (Cic.  Parad.  iv.  29) ;  it 
accuses  and  judges  (Livy,  xxxiii.  28 ;  Tac.  Hist. 
iv.  72 ;  Sen.  de  Ben.  vi.  42) ;  it  is  a  witness  (Sen. 
Ep.  43;  Quint.  Inst.  Or.  v.  xi.  41 ;  Juv.  xiii.  198). 
Bona  conscientia,  mala  conscientia,  '  clear  con- 
science,' 'guilty  conscience,'  are  terms  which  do 
not  appear  to  be  used  by  Cicero,  but  are  common 
enough  in  Seneca  and  other  later  writers.  But 
conscientia  (with  a  genitive  case  added)  not  in- 
frequently occurs  in  Cicero  with  the  meaning  of  '  a 
clear  conscience,' which  he  calls  'fruit'  {Phil.  ii. 
114),  'a  reward'  {de  Rep.  vi.  8),  '  a  joy'  (ad  Fam. 
v.  7),  and  '  a  comfort'  (ib.  vi.  6,  12). 

3.  Conscience  the  lawgiver  valued  as  a  guide. — 
The  Stoic  teaching,  insisting  as  it  did  upon  obedi- 
ence to  the  Divine  reason  in  the  heart,  led  men 
not  merely  to  fear  conscience,  but  to  value  it 
highly  as  a  director  of  life.  Cicero  recognizes  con- 
science as  a  lawgiver  (ad  Att.  xiii.  20),  and  so  does 
the  younger  Pliny  (Ep.  i.  22),  while  the  idea  is 
especially  common  in  Seneca.  Conscience,  from 
Cicero  onwards,  is  considered  a  better  guide  than 
public  opinion  (Cic.  de  Fin.  ii.  71,  ad  Att.  xii.  28  ; 
Livy,  xxxiii.  28 ;  Pliny,  Ep.  i.  8,  iii.  20 ;  Sen.  de 
Ben.  vi.  42),  though  it  is  difficult  to  decide  whether 
these  are  cases  of  the  judging  conscience  or  of  the 
legislating  conscience  ;  indeed,  it  is  impossible  to 
keep  these  quite  distinct,  as  a  judgment  on  a 
past  act  is,  of  course,  a  guide  to  future  conduct. 

4.  Summary.  —  Conscience,  then,  was  always 
acting,  but  at  first  it  took  the  form  of  a  strong 
feeling  of  obligation  to  an  external  moral  law  that 
was  sanctioned  by  tradition,  religion,  and  the 
State.  As  the  influence  of  these  grew  weaker, 
men  transferred  their  allegiance  to  their  own  hearts, 
and  realized  that  they  had  within  them  an  accuser, 
a  judge,  and  a  guide.  The  Stoic  doctrine  of  a 
Divine  reason  immanent  in  each  individual  was 
1  most   powerful  aid   to   a  clearer  conception  of 


conscience  ;  the  writings  of  Cicero  and  Seneca, 
who  were  both  imbued  with  Stoicism,  afford  the 
best  evidence  of  the  way  in  which  the  notion  of 
conscience  developed. 

The  ethical  terms  used  by  the  early  Greeks 
emphasized  chiefly  the  emotional  side  of  conscience  ; 
those  used  by  the  early  Romans  laid  stress  on 
moral  obligation.  Among  both  peoples  the  de- 
velopment of  the  idea  of  conscience  was  due  to  the 
decay  of  the  State  religion  and  of  the  State  dis- 
cipline, and  the  consequent  turning  of  men's 
thoughts  inwards  ;  but,  whereas  the  Greek  philo- 
sophers made  little  use  of  the  popular  term  tA 
<rvi>ei86s,  and  devoted  their  energies  to  improving 
the  moral  ideal  according  to  which  conscience 
judges,  the  Roman  Stoics  appear  to  have  adopted 
the  term  conscientia,  and  to  have  made  it  express 
far  more  than  its  Greek  equivalent.  The  Greek 
word  nearly  always  stands  for  a  guilty  conscience  ; 
the  Latin  word,  although  very  often  associated 
with  guilt,  not  infrequently  denotes  moral  self- 
satisfaction  or  the  inner  promptings  of  conscience 
the  lawgiver.  Neither  word  is  associated  with 
the  State  religion  ;  but,  while  philosophic  religion 
neglected  ri  trweMs,  conscientia  was  naturally 
used  as  an  equivalent  of  the  Stoic  '  guardian,'  the 
fragment  of  Divine  reason  implanted  in  the  heart 
of  each  individual.  Hence  Christianity  found  in 
conscientia  a  term  whose  fuller  meaning  it  could 
develop  by  its  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Spirit  accus- 
ing, exhorting,  and  '  leading  into  all  truth.'  But 
it  should  be  noticed  that  the  ancients  made  no 
attempt  to  analyze  psychologically  the  conception 
of  conscience,  which  remained  to  the  last  popular 
rather  than  philosophic,  in  spite  of  its  adoption  by 
Roman  Stoicism. 

Literature. — C.  F.  von  Nagelsbach,  Homer.  Theologies, 
Nuremberg,  1S61,  Die  nachhomer.  Theologie  des  griech.  Volks- 
glaubens,  Nuremberg,  1857 ;  W.  E.  Gladstone,  Studies  on 
Homer,  Oxford,  1858,  ii.  417-478 ;  Jahnel,  De  conscientioe 
notione  qualis  fuerit  apud  veteres  et  apud  Christianos  usque  ad 
medii  cevi  exitum,  Berlin,  1862 ;  M.  Kahler,  Das  Geivissen : 
die  Entwickelung  seiner  Namen  und  seines  Beyriffes,  pt.  i., 
Halle,  1878  ;  L.  Schmidt,  Die  Ephik  der  alien  Grischen,  Berlin, 
1882,  i.  156-229 ;  C.  Martha,  Etudes  morales  sur  I'antiquiti, 
PariH,  1883  ;  G.  L.  Dickinson,  The  Greek  View  of  Life,  London, 
1896;  E.  E.  G-,  The  Makers  of  Hellas,  London,  i903;  J.  Adam, 
The  Religious  Teachers  of  Greece,  Edinburgh,  1908  ;  R.  Mulder, 
De  conscientia  notions,  quce  et  qualis  fuerit  Romanis,  Leyden, 

1908.  w.  H.  S.  Jones. 

CONSCIENCE  (Jewish). — Conscience  is  an 
essential  element  in  the  system  of  Jewish  ethics. 
It  is  the  motive  power  and  the  last  arbiter  for  the 
moral  rectitude  of  man  ;  it  is  the  judge,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  highest  standard  by  which  his 
actions  in  his  relation  to  God  and  to  his  neighbours 
are  measured.  Conscientiousness  in  the  fulfilment 
of  duties  is  a  moral  heightening  of  the  principle  of 
duty,  and  is  the  necessary  preparation  for  the 
virtues  of  mercy  and  love.  The  principle  of 
righteousness  which  underlies  conscience  may  be 
of  a  purely  legal  and  ceremonial  character,  whereas 
conscience  goes  beyond  simple  legal  forms,  and 
springs  from  higher  motives  than  those  of  obedi- 
ence to  the  law  and  the  performance  of  ceremonies. 
The  motive  force  is  a  truer  conception  of  the  rela- 
tion between  man  and  God,  and  the  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  principle  that  human  perfection  can 
be  attained  only  by  imitating,  as  far  as  human 
power  allows,  the  ways  of  God.  The  '  hallowing 
of  life '  is  the  real  object  of  all  the  laws,  and  still 
more  so  of  the  moral  injunctions  and  acts  of  con- 
science which  supplement  them  and  assist  in 
achieving  the  purpose  of  making  the  Jewish 
nation  '  a  kingdom  of  priests  and  an  holy  nation ' 
(Ex  19s).  More  than  once  is  the  sanctification  of 
life  enunciated  in  the  Pentateuch,  and  the  reason 
given  is  '  because  I  am  holy.'  The  holiness  of  God 
is  the  ultimate  reason  and  explanation  of  the  laws 
which  would  cause  man,   who   had   been   formed 


42 


CONSCIENCE  (Jewish) 


*  in  the  image  of  God,'  to  reach  a  higher  standard, 
and  place  him  almost  on  a  par  with  the  angels 
(Pa  86).  As  explained  hy  the  Rabbis,  the  various 
instances  recorded  in  the  Bible  of  God's  direct 
communion  with  the  Patriarchs  were  intended  to 
teach  their  descendants  how  to  act.  '  Just  as  God 
clothes  the  naked  (Adam  and  Eve),  so  should  man 
clothe  the  naked ;  just  as  God  visits  the  sick 
(Abraham),  so  should  man  make  it  his  duty  to 
visit  the  sick  ;  just  as  God  buries  the  dead  (Moses), 
so  must  man  bury  the  dead  ;  just  as  God  comforts 
the  mourners,  so  must  man  comfort  the  mourner ' 
(Gen.  rabba,  viii.,  Pirke  B.  Yehudah,  §  25)  ;  in 
fact,  all  acts  of  charity  and  benevolence,  all  those 
duties  which  a  man  is  bound  to  perform,  not  in 
virtue  of  a  direct  command  or  a  legal  prescription, 
but  prompted  by  his  '  heart,'  are  to  conform  to  the 
Divine  standard  and  promote  the  hallowing  of  life 
— the  sanctification  of  God's  name.  And  all  the 
blessings  that  follow  from  it — peace,  happiness, 
charity,  goodwill,  love — make  man  approach  the 
Divine.  The  seat  of  this  higher  conception  of 
moral  duty — self-imposed  duty,  not  duty  imposed 
from  without — was  placed  in  the  '  heart,'  which 
stands  in  Hebrew  for  mind,  sentiment,  feeling, 
conscience.1  Hence  'a  pure  heart,'  'a  clean  heart,' 
as  mentioned  by  the  Psalmist,  means  a  clean  con- 
science, a  pure  mind,  a  noble  conception  of  duty 
fulfilled  without  any  other  motive  than  the  desire 
of  self -sanctification. 

In  Jewish  teaching,  however,  the  legal  and  the 
purely  ethical  have  never  been  really  separated, 
but  have  been  treated  as  concomitant  principles. 
For,  as  remarked  above,  the  justification  and  ex- 
planation of  the  former  were  sought  in  the  latter, 
and  both  were  to  lead  to  the  sanctification  of  life. 
Thus  we  read :  '  And  the  heart  of  David  smote 
him'  (1  S  24s).  In  Isaiah  58  these  ethical  principles 
are  summed  up  in  a  masterly  manner,  and  show  us 
the  workings  of  that  spirit  of  holiness  in  the  prac- 
tical walks  of  life.  The  other  books  of  the  Pro- 
phets teem  with  denunciations  against  '  hardness 
of  heart,'  harsh  treatment  of  widows,  orphans,  and 
slaves,  and  dishonest  dealings  with  one's  neigh- 
bour. Moral  perfection  is  thus  defined  by  the 
prophet  Micah  (68) :  '  He  hath  showed  thee,  O 
man,  what  is  good ;  and  what  doth  the  Lord 
require  of  thee,  but  to  do  justly,  and  to  love 
mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy  God ? '  'To 
do  justly '  was  the  particular  realm  of  the  mind, 
the  work  of  conscience  for  God's  sake,  the  work 
assigned  to  '  the  heart '  (cf.  Concordance,  s.v. 
'  Heart '  ;  and  the  expressions  '  with  all  thy  heart,' 
'  with  the  whole  heart,'  etc.). 

These  ethical  principles  and  guides  of  life,  in 
addition  to  the  legal  prescriptions,  found  terse 
expression  in  proverbs  and  maxims,  saws  of  wise 
men,  and  teachings  left  by  venerated  persons — a 
kind  of  moral  compendia  like  the  Books  of  Pro- 
verbs and  Ecclesiastes.  The  authors  of  some  of 
the  apocryphal  books  followed  these  examples,  and 
the  Books  of  Sirach  and  the  Wisdom  of  Solomon, 
as  well  as  Fourth  Maccabees,  are  nothing  other 
than  such  moral  compendia.  Direct  reference  to 
conscience  we  find  in  Sir  428  and  Wis  1710  (11',  which 
are  in  the  spirit  of  Jewish  ethical  teaching.  A 
special  class  of  ethical  literature  starts  from  the 
same  period,  i.e.  before  the  destruction  of  the 
Temple,  and  it  has  continued  to  our  day — the 
literature  of  '  Testaments,'  or  ethical  wills  of  some 
great  personage.  These  circulated  afterwards  far 
and  wide,  and  became  recognized  moral  guides 
independent  of  the  codes  of  laws  which  regulated 
the  strictly  formal  mode  of  life.  It  would  be  out 
of  place  here  to  discuss  the  whole  range  of  ethical 
teaching ;  hence  we  must  limit  ourselves  to  those 

1  As  will  be  seen,  there  is  no  Hebrew  word  which  corresponds 
•otirely  with  '  conscience  ' 


passages  that  refer  to  'conscience,'  uprightness, 
moral  responsibility,  in  the  daily  relations  between 
man  and  man — references  found  scattered  through- 
out these  books.  A  brief  survey  of  this  branch  of 
literature,  however,  is  imperative  for  the  historical 
sequence  of  such  teachings,  and  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  ethics  had  not  been  reduced  to  a  system,  or 
split  up  into  sections  differentiating  the  moral 
value  of  one  principle  as  opposed  to  another.  All 
stand  on  the  same  footing,  and  demand  the  same 
attention.  There  is  no  room  for  eclecticism  in 
these  collections.  The  oldest  example  is  perhaps 
the  Testament  of  Tobias,  which  emphasizes,  as  he 
had  done  in  his  lifetime,  the  moral  duty  of  burying 
the  dead — one  of  those  pious  duties  and  works  of 
charity  which  the  law  does  not  prescribe,  and 
neglect  of  which  is  not  punishable  by  its  letter, 
but  whose  fulfilment  was  a  matter  of  conscience 
for  every  pious  Jew.  More  important  is  the  refer- 
ence (To  1410)  to  the  History  of  Achiacharus 
(Ahikar),  since  recovered  and  restored  to  its  place 
at  the  end  of  the  Book  of  Tobit.  This  is  a  collec- 
tion of  wise  maxims  and  guides  to  proper  deeds 
and  moral  actions,  though  in  the  versions  pre- 
served it  is  more  in  the  nature  of  worldly  practical 
wisdom  of  not  too  elevated  a  type.  Its  interest 
lies  also  in  another  direction  ;  the  form  of  address, 
'O  my  son,'  etc.,  is  repeated  in  a  large  number  of 
treatises  to  be  mentioned  later  on.  Richer  is  the 
harvest  yielded  by  the  Twelve  Testaments,  in  which 
apparently  the  very  word  '  conscience '  occurs  for 
the  first  time  in  Palestinian  texts  :  Reub.  43 '  Even 
until  now  my  conscience  causeth  me  anguish  on 
account  of  my  impiety '  (cf.  Charles,  ad  loc.  p.  9). 
In  other  testaments  the  same  idea  occurs  :  Jud.  205, 
where  the  corresponding  word  is  '  heart,'  and  simi- 
larly Gad  53.  To  this  category  of  testamentary 
teaching  the  present  writer  would  assign  also  the 
famous  collection  of  the  '  Fathers  of  the  Syna- 
gogue,'called  'The  Chapters'  (Pirke  A  both)  after 
they  had  been  grouped  together  in  chapters.  They 
can  only  be  properly  understood  as  such  testa- 
mentary injunctions,  the  last  wills  of  the  leading 
men  of  the  Great  Synagogue  and  their  successors 
in  the  high  position  of  spiritual  guides  and  leaders 
of  the  people  during  the  period  of  the  Second 
Temple.  The  authors  have  been  grouped  chrono- 
logically, and  these  chains  of  ethical  maxims 
served  the  purpose  of  being  a  chain  of  tradition. 
In  reality  they  are  the  principal  ethical  teachings 
representing  the  ethical  wills  of  those  sages,  and  as 
wills  they  fall  naturally  into  their  place,  whilst 
hitherto  they  had  been  a  riddle.  A  few  examples 
may  suffice : 

'  Rabban  Gamaliel,  the  son  of  B.  Judah  the  Prince,  said : 
"An  excellent  thing  is  the  study  of  the  Torah  combined  with 
moral  discipline  (derekh  ere?),  for  the  practice  of  both  causes 
sin  to  be  out  of  remembrance  " '  (ii.  2).1 

'  Uilk'l  said  :  "Judge  not  thy  neighbour  until  thou  art  come 
into  his  place  "  *  (ii.  6).  According  to  R.  Eleazar,  the  good  way 
to  which  a  man  should  cleave  is  'the  possession  of  a  good 
heart,'  and  the  evil  to  be  shunned,  *  a  wicked  heart '  (ii.  12,  13), 
where  'heart,'  no  doubt,  is  to  be  taken  in  the  Biblical  sense. 
'  R.  Eliezer  said  :  "  Let  the  honour  of  thy  friend  be  dear  unto 
thee  as  thine  own  " '  (ii.  14).  '  R.  Jose  said:  "  Let  the  property 
of  thy  friend  be  dear  to  thee  as  thine  own  " '  (ii.  16).  Among 
those  who  have  no  share  in  the  world  to  come,  R.  Eleazar  the 
Muddaite  places  the  man  who  puts  his  fellow-man  to  shame  in 
public.  It  is  the  moral  and  not  the  legal  sin  which  is  to  be 
shunned,  and  if  committed  it  is  to  be  expiated  by  '  repentance 
and  good  deeds,'  as  is  often  repeated  here  (iv.  15  ;  cf.  Taylor, 
Sayings  of  the  Jewish  Fathers^,  Cambridge,  1897,  ad  loc). 

Round  this  collection  of  maxims  grew  up  a 
whole  cycle  of  similar  teachings,  accretions,  and 
additions  from  other  sources,  and  examples  drawn 
from  the  lives  of  other  sages.  It  also  was  com- 
mented upon  by  the  most  prominent  writers  of 
subsequent  ages.  One  of  the  oldest  is  a  small 
collection  known  as  the  '  Work  (or  Story)  of  R. 

1  The  phrase  derekh  eres  has  hitherto  been  wrongly  translated 
'worldly  business.'  It  can  only  mean,  at  least  in  this  passage, 
'  moral  discipline,'  and  one  of  the  later  compilations  intended  t* 
serve  as  a  '  moral  guide  '  bears  the  title  Derekh  eres. 


CONSCIENCE  (Jewish) 


43 


Judah  the  Prince'  (3Ia'aseh  B.  Yehudah  ha-Nasi), 
and  later  on  developed  into  the  '  Chapters  of  R. 
Judah  the  Prince'  (Pirkc  diBabbenu  ha-gaddosh). 
Another  is  'The  Will  of  Eliezer  the  Great,'  or 
'  The  Ways  of  the  Pious '  (Savaath  B.  Eliezer  ha- 
gadol,  or  Orhoth  Saddikim),  agreeing  in  many 
points  with  the  history  of  Achiacharus.  It  shows 
exactly  the  same  development  as  other  collections 
of  maxims,  apologues,  and  saws  in  universal  litera- 
ture, inasmuch  as,  to  one  portion,  or  to  a  small, 
old,  and  genuine  section,  other  elements  of  a 
similar  tendency  are  added.  The  names  of  the 
reputed  authors  vary,  and  a  compilation  ascribed 
originally  to  Talmudic  authorities,  i.e.  Eliezer  ben 
Hyrkanos,  is  then  transferred  to  a  much  later 
Eliezer  of  the  year  1050.  The  substance,  however, 
is  the  same  ;  and  most  of  these  collections  merely 
repeat  older  materials,  increased  in  later  times  by 
some  similar  maxims  from  other  sources.  The 
burden  of  the  message  of  these  collections  is  to 
seek  the  judge  in  one's  own  conscience,  and  to  find 
the  punishment  for  moral  guilt  in  remorse  of  con- 
science, in  the  consciousness  of  a  fall  from  a  moral 
height,  and  in  the  desecration  or  profanation  of  the 
Sacred  Name.  In  a  much  more  elaborate  manner 
the  theme  is  enlarged  upon  in  the  '  Chapters  or 
Maxims  of  R.  Nathan'  (Aboth  di  B.  N.)  of  the 
7th-8th  cent.,  into  which  much  of  the  accumulated 
matter  had  flowed  ;  and  in  the  book  called  Derekh 
eres,  '  Moral  Guide '  (of  which  two  recensions  have 
been  preserved — '  Major  '  and  '  Minor'),  and  in  the 
Tanna  debe  Eliahu,  in  which  the  prophet  Elijah  is 
the  teacher.  The  feeling  of  inner  responsibility 
for  moral  faults  and  the  glory  in  conscientious  per- 
formance of  ethical  deeds  have  found  in  this  book 
a  powerful,  and  at  the  same  time  an  elevating, 
poetical  expression.  The  way  to  shun  sin,  to  lead 
a  pious,  modest,  exemplary  life,  full  of  humility 
and  charity,  and  to  accomplish  '  the  duties  of  the 
heart '  is  here  expounded  in  simple  and  withal 
dignified  language.  This  book  belongs  still  to  the 
Talmudic  period,  and  is  certainly  anterior  to  the 
9th  century. 

But  the  postulates  of  ethical  teaching  were  not 
limited  to  mere  maxims,  highly  appreciated  and 
honouring  to  those  who  had  formulated  them,  but 
still  of  a  purely  theoretical  value.  On  the  con- 
trary, as  far  as  possible,  they  were  introduced  into 
the  fabric  of  consistent  legislation,  and,  though 
many  of  the  acts  in  question  were  not  indictable 
before  the  regular  tribunal,  the  conscience  and 
religious  principles  of  the  individual  remaining  the 
ultimate  forum  before  which  they  could  be  brought, 
some  of  them  at  least  were  brought  within  the 
four  corners  of  the  Law,  and  were  made  offences 
amenable  to  its  rigours.  Starting  from  the  pro- 
hibition of  oppression,  fraud,  and  violence  against 
widows,  orphans,  and  strangers  (Ex  2221'-,  Lv  1933), 
and,  more  especially,  of  fraud  and  overreaching  in 
business  transactions  (Lv  251,1-  "  '  And  if  thou  sell 
aught  unto  thy  neighbour,  or  buy  of  thy  neigh- 
bour's hand,  ye  shall  not  wrong  one  another ' ; 
'  And  ye  shall  not  wrong  one  another ;  but  thou 
shalt  fear  thy  God'),  the  Rabbis  have  extended 
the  effects  of  these  prohibitions  very  far,  and  have 
very  clearly  defined  the  principle  of  overreaching, 
and  also  established  the  rule  that  it  applied  to  Jew 
and  non-Jew  alike.  They  have  shown  a  high  con- 
ception of  moral  duty  and  obligation,  and  have 
applied  a  lofty  standard  of  moral  rectitude  in  the 
interpretation  of  these  commands,  which  are  called 
'  subjects  left  to  the  discretion  of  the  heart ' 
(Debartm  ha-mesurim  la-leb ;  the  '  heart,'  of 
course,  stands  for  '  conscience ').  The  law  is  called 
Ona'ah,  from  the  hypothetical  root  of  the  Heb. 
word  honah  in  the  above  Biblical  passages.  They 
have  made  this  law  very  severe,  and  any  deviation 
from  its  strict  application  makes  the  sale  or  pur- 


chase void.  To  take  advantage  in  any  way  of 
favourable  legal  circumstances,  or  of  ignorance,  or 
of  quibbles,  is  sufficient  to  annul  the  transaction. 

Oppression  by  means  of  word  alone  and  not  by  deed  ia  con- 
sidered even  worBe  than  overreaching  in  the  matter  of  money 
(Bab.  mes.  686) :  '  If  a  man  repents,  he  must  not  be  reminded 
of  his  sins ' ;  '  If  a  man  is  a  proselyte,  he  must  not  be  told  of  hia 
heathen  ancestry,  for  money  can  be  restored,  but  spiritual 
agony  can  never  be  made  good.'  '  Nor  is  a  man  to  ask  for  the 
price  of  an  object  unless  he  has  the  intention  of  buying,'  for  he 
ia  thereby  deceiving  the  vendor,  who  is  unable  to  read  the 
man's  heart  (Mishn.  Bab.  mes.  ch.  iv.;  see  also  Lampronti, 
Pahad  Yi^half,  s.v.  '  Ona'ah '  [the  whole  of  the  Rabbinical 
literature  on  the  question  of  overreaching,  from  the  Mishna 
down  to  the  17th  cent.]).  'If  a  man,  under  a  flimsy  pretext, 
withdraws  from  a  bargain,  they  say  :  "May  He  who  obtained 
redress  (by  punishment)  from  the  men  of  the  Flood  and  the 
men  of  the  Dispersion  (of  Babel)  be  sure  to  obtain  redresa  from 
(i.e.  to  puniBh)  the  man  who  doea  not  keep  hie  word  " '  (Mishn. 
Bab.  mes.  iv.  2).  In  addition  to  overreaching,  the  Sages  also 
inveigh  strongly  against  obtaining  a  good  opinion  under  false 
pretences,  which  they  call  '  stealing  a  good  opinion '  (Genebath 
Da'ath):  'Of  seven  kinds  of  thieves,  those  who  steal  a  good 
opinion  [create  a  falae  impression  in  their  favour]  are  the  worst, 
for,  if  they  could,  they  would  attempt  to  deceive  the  Almighty ' 
(Tosefta,  B.  Icamma,  vii.).  '  He  who  deceives  man  by  such 
devices  is  like  unto  him  who  attempts  to  deceive  Qod'(Kallah 
rab.  fol.  18a).  '  Do  not  invite  a  man  to  dine  with  thee  when 
thou  knowest  that  he  is  not  then  inclined  to  eat ' ;  '  one  musi 
not  open  a  jar  of  oil  or  wine  pretending  to  do  it  in  honour  of  a 
guest,  if  it  [has  to  be  opened  as  it]  is  already  sold  to  a  customer, 
and  thereby  create  a  good  opinion  by  false  appearance  of  con- 
sideration, be  it  a  Jew  or  a  Gentile '  (HuUin,  94a ;  Shulhan 
Arukh  Boshen  Mishpat,  ch.  228;  and  Maimonides  in  hia 
Prificipied  of  Ethics). 

The  reason  for  all  these  precepts  is  that  they 
are  inimical  to  the  sanctification  of  life,  and  cause 
the  defamation  of  the  Divine  Name,  which  are  in 
the  keeping  of  man's  conscience,  and  left  to  the 
'  discretion  of  the  heart.' 

*  A  queen  having  lost  her  jewels,  it  waa  announced  by  royal 
proclamation  that  whoever  should  find  and  return  them  within 
tbirty  days  would  obtain  a  rich  reward,  but  if  after  thirty  days, 
he  would  be  put  to  death.  R.  Samuel  b.  Sosarti,  having  found 
them,  returned  them  after  thirty  days.  When  asked  why  he 
did  so,  as  he  was  exposing  himself  to  Buffer  capital  puniahment, 
he  replied  :  "  If  I  had  returned  the  jewela  within  the  thirty 
days,  the  people  would  have  said  that  I  had  done  so  for  the 
reward ;  I  have  therefore  kept  them  till  now,  so  as  to  show, 
even  at  the  risk  of  severe  punishment,  that  one  is  bound  to 
return  the  property  found  even  if  it  belonged  to  a  Gentile " ' 
(Jems.  Talm.,  Bab.  mes.  ch.  ii.).  Again,  'R.  Shimeon  b.  Shefcah 
bought  an  ass  from  an  Ishmaelite.  When  his  pupils  examined 
it  more  closely,  they  found  a  jewel  hanging  round  its  neck,  and 
they  said  to  him :  "  O  master,  it  is  a  blessing  from  above,  thou 
bast  become  rich  1 "  ;  whereupon  he  replied  :  "  I  bought  the  aaa 
and  not  the  jewel,"  and  he  returned  the  jewel  to  the  Ishmaebte 
owner '  (£&.). 

It  would  be  easy  to  multiply  examples  and 
maxims  of  an  ethical  character  from  the  Talmudic 
literature. 

The  Talmudic  Sages  coined  a  word  for  moral 
obligation  which  affords  us  a  glimpse  into  the 
working  of  their  mind.  They  use  the  verb  hayyab, 
from  the  Bibl.  root  hob,  which  means  '  material 
debt,'  and  employ  it  to  designate  man's  moral 
'indebtedness,'  his  moral,  'obligation,'  which  he 
must  fulfil,  lest  by  neglect  he  become  'guilty.' 
The  moral  duty  stands  at  least  on  a  par  with  his 
legal  obligations,  and  most  of  the  ethical  duties 
mentioned  in  the  Talmud  are  regularly  introduced 
by  the  formula  hayyab  dddm,  '  a  man  is  bound ' 
(of  course  by  moral  conscience)  to  do  this  or  that. 
This  formula  has  since  become  stereotyped,  and  is 
never  used  in  connexion  with  legal  commandments. 

In  this  ethical  Haggada  the  material  is  not 
arranged  according  to  any  system,  starting,  as  it 
were,  from  the  fundamental  principle  of  the  love 
of  God  or  of  His  Unity,  and  then  deducing  from 
it  those  secondary  principles  which  form  the  sub- 
ject of  a  moral  life.  The  teaching  was  of  a  purely 
practical  nature  ;  the  people  did  not  care  to  follow 
it  up  to  its  theoretical  beginnings.  The  Bible  set 
the  example.  There  also  the  laws  and  command- 
ments are  not  arranged  in  any  systematic  order, 
and  some  of  the  fundamental  principles  are  placed 
next  to  matters  of  relatively  minor  importance. 
At  the  end  of  the  9th  cent.,  however,  a  great 
change  took  place.    Under  the  influence,  indirectly 


44 


CONSCIENCE  (Jewish) 


of  Greek,  and  directly  of  Arabic,  philosophic  specu- 
lations, the  Jews  began  to  develop  systems  of  re- 
ligious philosophy  in  which  special  attention  was 
often  paid  to  the  ethical  side  of  the  Jewish  faith. 
Whilst,  in  the  older  period  of  Hellenism,  Jewish 
thinkers  were  influenced  by  Plato  and  the  Stoa, 
such  as  Philo  and  the  author  of  the  pseudo-  Josephus 
'  On  the  Rule  of  the  Intellect,'  and  were  more  or 
less  guided  by  allegorical  interpretations  of  the 
Bible,  the  philosophers  of  later  times  were  mostly 
under  the  influence  of  Aristotle  and  his  Arabic 
commentators,  such  as  al-Farabi  (f950),  Ibn  Slna 
(Avicenna,  1 1038),  Ghazali  (t  1111),  and  Ibn  Rushd 
(Averroes,  t  1198),  while  the  purely  theological 
speculation  of  the  adherents  of  the  Kalam  (the 
Mutakallimun)  also  found  followers  among  the 
Jews. 

Before  referring  to  the  Jewish  philosophers,  it  is 
of  interest  to  mention  a  fact  hitherto  entirely 
ignored  in  connexion  with  the  dissemination  of 
their  moral  teachings.  Such  collections  of  maxims 
as  are  mentioned  above  were  also  put  into  verse, 
and  formed  terse  epigrams  or  long  didactic  poems 
— a  form  better  adapted  to  render  them  popular, 
for  the  masses  do  not  care  for  historical  or  theo- 
retical investigations,  and  still  less  for  philosophical 
justifications  of  moral  conduct.  Fragments  of  the 
ancient  saws  of  Ben  Sira  were  then  collected,  and 
other  collections  of  a  similar  nature  were  made. 
It  is  owing  to  this  tendency  that  about  that 
period  (9th-10th  cent.)  the  Book  of  Sirach  was 
re-translated  into  Hebrew,  as  the  language  of 
the  newly  discovered  version  testifies.  It  is  the 
period  of  '  Achiacharus '  in  its  modern  recension 
(Lukman,  etc.).  A  century  later  no  less  a  person 
than  the  last  of  the  great  Oeonlm  of  Babylon, 
Hai  (940-1039),  wrote  his  rhymed  didactical  poem 
Musar  Easkel — also  a  kind  of  moral  vade-mecum 
adapted  to  the  understanding  of  the  people,  and 
probably  taught  in  the  schools  and  otherwise  learnt 
by  heart.  It  agrees  also  with  the  '  will '  of  Eleazar, 
Achiacharus,  etc.     A  few  examples  must  suffice. 

'  My  son,  my  first  word  is  :  Fear  the  Lord  ;  and  with  each  of 
thy  deeds  give  praise  unto  Him'  (w.  1.  3).  '  Forgive  the  Bin  and 
transgression  of  thy  neighbour,  and  be  ready  to  accept  repent- 
ance and  regret.'  'Be  not  treacherous  or  seek  strife,  and 
foster  not  rebellion'  (vv.  75 ff.).  'When  thou  hearest  the 
defamation  of  thy  neighbour,  cover  it  up  and  pretend  not  to 
have  heard  it '  (vv.  88-89).  '  Wisdom  is  to  walk  in  the  path  of 
faithfulness  and  of  the  fear  of  God ;  and  true  understanding 
(character)  is  to  avoid  evil.'  'Be  an  (honest)  judge  among  thy 
people'  (vv.  114 ff.).  'In  all  thy  transactions  choose  righteous- 
ness ;  have  pity  on  the  poor  and  miserable,  and  appoint  an 
adviser  and  admonisher  to  thy  soul' (vv.  135  ff.).  '  Let  thy  heart 
(mind)  beware  of  pride  (proud  insolence) '  (168).  'Do  not  say 
to  thy  neighbour,  Come  to-morrow,  when  thou  canst  give 
to-day  ;  give  and  do  not  tarry.'  '  Judge  thyself  as  thou  wouldst 
judge  others '(176). 

His  contemporary  Samuel  Ha-Nagid  imitated 
Hai  in  Spain,  in  his  Ben  Eoheleth  ('  Son  of  Ecele- 
siastes ').  On  other  didactic  poems  we  need  not 
dwell. 

To  return  to  the  Jewish  philosophers,  we  note 
that,  though  they  were  all  bent  on  finding  in 
Judaism  the  highest  expression  of  Divine  truth, 
and  aimed  at  leading  to  the  highest  good,  yet  they 
differed  in  their  definition  of  the  summum  bonum 
and  in  the  means  of  attaining  it.  To  cultivate  all 
the  virtues  was  the  road  which  led  to  the  know- 
ledge of  God,  and  in  this  knowledge  was  to  be 
found  the  ultimate  goal  of  human  perfection,  i.e. 
nearness  to  God.  Hence  sometimes  the  intellect 
and  moral  conscience  were  not  clearly  distinguished 
from  one  another.  This  is  not  the  place  to  discuss 
the  various  systems  of  ethics  evolved  by  these 
Jewish  philosophers.  It  may  suffice  to  point  out 
that  every  system  of  thought  among  Arabs  and 
mediaeval  Scholastics  is  to  be  found  among  the 
Jews.  Of  those  thinkers  some — like  Saadya, 
Gabirol,  Ibn  Zaddik,  and  Maimonides — are  more 
rationalistic,  assigning  to  the  knowledge  of  God 


and  to  Wisdom  the  highest  potentiality  for  good, 
and  considering  that  the  highest  aim  is  to  be 
attained  by  moderation,  by  the  rule  of  the  intellect 
over  the  actions  and  thoughts  of  man,  while  others 
incline  more  to  the  mystical  side.  To  the  latter 
category  belongs  Behay,  the  first  philosopher  to 
write  a  special  work  on  the  '  Duties  of  the  Heart ' 
(such  is  the  title  of  the  book,  Hoboth  ha-Lebaboth). 
He  recognizes  human  conscience  as  the  last  arbiter 
and  the  true  inward  prompter  and  guide  in  all 
moral  actions  which  lie  outside  the  specifically 
legal  injunctions.  He  lays  special  stress  on  the 
elevating  and  purifying  influence  of  moral  con- 
sciousness, and  therefore  leads  up  to  a  kind  of 
religious  asceticism  or  Quietism,  by  recommending 
retirement  from  life,  abstinence,  and  prayer  as 
means  for  attaining  perfection.  Without  being 
morbid,  he  exhibits  a  high  moral  sensitiveness, 
and  has  had  a  lasting  influence  upon  succeeding 
generations.  One  can  trace  his  influence  especially 
in  a  whole  series  of  subsequent  writings. 

These  philosophical  writings,  being  almost  all 
composed  in  Arabic,  had  to  be  first  translated  into 
Hebrew,  and  only  then  could  they  gain  a  wider 
circulation.  The  writings  of  Saadya  thus  reached 
France  and  Central  Europe,  through  the  medium 
of  the  Hebrew  anonymous  translation  which  was 
used  by  Berechyah  ha-Nakdan  (second  half  of 
12th  cent.)  in  his  two  ethical  compilations — the 
'Compendium'  and  the  'Refiner'  {Hibbur  and 
Masref,  ed.  H.  Gollancz,  London,  1902).  He 
eliminated  the  entire  speculative  part,  and  re- 
tained only  the  ethical,  which  he  augmented  with 
excerpts  from  the  writings  of  Ibn  Gabirol,  Behay, 
and  Nissim. 

Of  sin  and  repentance  he  says  :  '  From  the  passage  Hos  14lf- 
"  Return,  for  thou  hast  stumbled,"  we  learn  that  we  should 
have  an  inward  regret  at  our  guilt,  and  that  we  should  reflect 
that  our  sins  have  proved  unto  us  a  wretched  stumbling-block  * 
(p.  71,  ed.  Gollancz).  He  speaks  most  emphatically  of  the 
'duties  of  the  heart.'  All  action  rests  upon  the  heart's  inten- 
tion and  upon  the  secret  thoughts  ;  their  study  must  necessarily 
precede  the  study  of  the  physical,  practical  performance  of  the 
commandments.  And  he  goes  on  to  relate  the  following: 
'  A  pious  man  once  said  to  his  disciples,  "  If  you  had  no  sins 
whatever,  I  should  be  afraid  lest  you  had  something  worse 
than  sins."  And  they  asked,  "  What  can  be  worse  than  siiw?" 
He  answered:  "Insolent  pride,  for  it  is  written,  Every  one 
that  is  proud  in  heart  is  an  abomination  unto  the  Lord"' 
(Pr.  165)  (ch.  cxxii.  p.  113  [Heb.]).  Very  beautiful  is  the  chapter 
devoted  to  'the  heart '  (ch.  iii.  in  the  M afref),  in  which  the 
author  has  skilfully  collected  verses  of  the  Bible,  teachings  of 
the  Sages,  and  philosophical  speculations,  to  show  that  Reason, 
Law,  and  Tradition  demand  of  a  man  the  performance  of  those 
actions  by  which  human  perfection  can  be  attained,  and  that 
man  must  be  guided  by  an  enlightened  understanding  and  a 
pure  heart,  i.e.  by  pure  conscience. 

Of  the  same  way  of  thinking  as  Behay  was  Abra- 
ham b.  Hiyah  (middle  of  12th  cent.),  although  he 
was  more  emphatic  about  fasting  and  repentance 
to  assuage  the  pangs  of  stricken  conscience,  and  to 
serve  as  the  means  of  avoiding  sin.  Like  Behay, 
he  shows  points  of  contact  with  the  teaching  of 
Ghazali  and  of  the  Sufis  (the  pure  brethren).  Of 
the  Intellectuals,  or,  better,  of  those  who  derive 
all  the  moral  virtues — charity,  piety,  energy, 
loving-kindness,  love  of  God,  moral  rectitude,  etc. 
— from  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  seek  the  road 
to  that  knowledge  in  the  '  middle  way,'  the  most 
prominent  is  Maimonides.  He  enunciates  his 
views  in  his  commentary  on  the  '  Chapters  of  the 
Fathers,'  in  the  chapters  on  the  '  Knowledge  of 
God  '  in  his  great  Compendium  of  the  Law,  in  his 
'  Guide  of  the  Perplexed,'  and  in  other  writings. 
The  problem  which  agitated  the  philosophers  of 
that  time,  and,  one  may  add,  the  philosophers  of 
religion  at  all  times,  was  that  of  human  free  will, 
with  the  concomitant  problem  of  reward  and 
punishment,  of  virtue  and  vice,  of  human  per- 
fection and  debasement.  He  decides  unhesitat- 
ingly, in  accordance  with  the  general  consensus  of 
Jewish  opinion,  that  man  is  a  free  agent  in  all  his 
moral  actions.      Man's  soul  is  the  seat  of  know- 


CONSCIENCE  (Jewish) 


45 


ledge,  and  from  it  alone  emanates  the  impulse  to 
action  or  inaction  (Introd.  to  Aboth,  ch.  viii.).  It 
is  his  moral  conscience  which  causes  reward  or 
punishment  for  deeds  which  are  neither  commanded 
by  the  Divine  legislation  nor  forbidden  by  it 
(Guide,  iii.  17,  fifth  theory).  In  ch.  liii.  Maimonides 
defines  the  meaning  of  the  Heb.  words  hesed  ( '  lov- 
ing-kindness'), mishpat  ('judgment'),  and  sedakah 
('  righteousness'),  and  says  of  the  last: 

'  The  term  se"ddkdh  is  derived  from  sede%,  "  righteousness." 
It  denotes  the  act  of  giving  every  one  his  due,  and  of  showing 
kindness  to  every  being  according  as  it  deserves.  In  Scripture, 
however,  the  expression  sZddkah  is  not  used  in  the  first  sense, 
and  does  not  apply  to  the  payment  of  what  we  owe  to  others. 
When  we,  therefore,  give  the  hired  labourer  his  wageB,  or  pay 
a  debt,  we  do  not  perform  an  act  of  sttddkdh.  But  we  do 
perform  an  act  of  se"ddkdh  when  we  fulfil  those  duties  towards 
our  fellow-men  which  our  moral  conscience  imposes  upon  us, 
e.g.  when  we  heal  the  wound  of  the  sufferer.'  And  again  : 
'  iSd&kdh  is  a  kindness  prompted  by  moral  conscience,  and  is  a 
means  for  attaining  perfection  of  the  soul.' 

He  also  insists  on  the  harmony  between  good 
action  and  good  thought :  in  the  exercise  of  human 
free  will  the  good  must  be  sought  for  its  own  sake  ; 
and  the  evil  must  be  shunned  because  of  its 
inherent  wickedness,  not  out  of  fear  of  punishment 
or  in  the  expectation  of  reward  (Com.  to  Aboth, 
i.  3,  on  the  passage :  '  Be  like  servants  who  min- 
ister to  their  master  without  the  condition  of 
receiving  a  reward ').  He  rebukes  men  who,  though 
they  do  not  possess  a  certain  virtue,  yet,  appre- 
ciating its  perfection, 

'  sometimes  desire  to  make  others  believe  that  they  possess  that 
virtue.  Thus  people,  e.g.,  adorn  themselves  with  the  poems  of 
others,  and  publish  them  as  their  own  productions.  Also  in 
various  branches  of  science,  ambitious  yet  lazy  men  appropriate 
the  opinions  expressed  by  other  persons,  and  boast  of  them 
that  they  have  originated  these  notions  '  {Guide,  ii.  40). 

And  he  condemns  men  who  seek  honour  at  the 
expense  of  others  and  spread  insinuations  and 
slanderous  statements  (Hilch.  Teshubah,  iv.  4). 
He  is  no  less  emphatic  in  his  condemnation  of 
those  who  try  to  overreach  Jew  or  Gentile,  or 
create  a  false  opinion  in  their  favour.  Such  men 
are  an  abomination  before  the  Lord,1  for  the  aim 
and  object  of  a  moral  life  is  to  approach  the 
Divine. 

'  Having  acquired  the  true  knowledge  of  God,  the  knowledge 
of  His  Providence,  and  of  the  manner  in  which  it  influences 
His  creatures  in  their  productions  and  continued  existence,  he 
(i.e.  man)  will  then  be  determined  always  to  seek  loving-kind- 
ness, righteousness,  and  judgment,  and  thus  imitate  the  ways 
of  God '  (Guide,  iii.  54,  ad  fin. ;  cf.  Jer  9™-).  With  this 
sentence  Maimonides  concludes  his  Guide. 

The  next  period,  which  commences  almost  with 
the  close  of  the  philosophical  era  at  the  end  of  the 
13th  cent.,  shows  the  deep  impress  of  those  two 
streams  of  thought  reaching  down  from  the  past. 
The  ethical  and  the  philosophical,  the  mystical 
and  the  rationalistic,  the  purely  practical  and 
the  deeply  spiritual,  moral,  and  unselfish  teaching 
were  caught  up  in  one  current  and  gathered  into 
one  stream  (cf .  Berechyah,  above).  A  new  word  is 
used  to  denote  this  new  ethical  literature — Musar, 
'  Moral  Discipline,'  foreshadowed  in  Hai's  poem, 
and  occurring  already  in  the  Proverbs  as  '  moral 
teaching'  (l2,  cf.  41S  512  etc.).  Henceforward  it 
denotes  '  piety,'  '  religious-moral  life,'  embracing 
the  legal  in  a  narrower  and  the  ethical  in  the 
largest  sense.  The  works  belonging  to  this  period 
inculcate  the  practice  of  virtue,  honesty,  piety, 
resignation,  charity,  love  of  one's  neighbour,  and 
saintliness  of  life.  There  is  a  psychological  reason 
for  the  abundance  of  such  books  from  the  13th 
cent,  onwards.  It  was  the  time  of  the  direst 
persecution  of  the  Jews  in  many  lands,  and,  unless 
the  Sages  and  teachers  of  those  generations  had 
fortified  the  moral  courage  of  the  harassed  and 
unfortunate  people,  every  trace  of  consciousness  of 
the  moral  duties  of  man  would  have  been  obli- 
terated. The  sense  of  sin  and  chastisement,  of 
Divine  visitation  justified  by  inward  backsliding, 
1  He  refers,  of  course,  to  the  Talmudic  passages  quoted  above 
(Hullin,  94a,  and  B.  kamma,  113a). 


was  deepened  by  these  books  of  Musar,  in  which 
the  best  teaching  of  the  past  was  placed  before  the 
readers  in  as  simple  a  language  as  could  be  com- 
manded. Each  author,  following  the  bent  of  his 
own  inclination,  laid  stress  now  on  one  side  of  the 
moral  life,  now  on  the  other.  Thus,  some  would 
exhort  to  fasting  and  ascetic  practices ;  others  to 
works  of  unselfish  love  of  God  and  men  ;  others 
wonld  teach  wisdom,  moderation,  patience,  and 
freedom  from  passion ;  but  all  were  united  in  the 
conviction  that  human  life  is  worthily  lived  only 
when  it  is  placed  in  the  service  of  God,  for  the 
benefit  of  mankind,  and  for  the  glorification  of  His 
name.  A  man's  conscience  must  be  pure,  and 
every  one  is  equally  responsible  for  thought  as  for 
deed,  whether  prescribed  by  the  Law  or  left  to  the 
discretion  of  one's  own  heart,  for  God  sees  every- 
thing, and  nothing  is  hidden  from  Him.  We  are, 
and  ought  to  be,  the  judges  of  our  actions,  and  to 
us  is  left  free  choice  to  decide  which  way  to  turn. 

What  lends  special  importance  to  this  Musar 
literature  is  the  fact  that  most  of  these  books  of 
Musar  were  translated  at  an  early  date  into  the 
vernacular  language  for  the  benefit  and  instruction 
of  the  middle-class  Jews,  who  were  not  sufficiently 
acquainted  with  the  Hebrew  to  read  them  in  the 
original  language.  These  books  became  the  litera- 
ture par  excellence  of  Jewish  women ;  they  were 
translated  into  the  Jewish-German  and  the  Jewish- 
Spanish  languages,  and  parts  also  into  Arabic  and 
Persian,  thus  becoming  real  'household  treasures.' 
Shabbetbai  Bass  gives  a  list  of  no  fewer  than  120 
such  books  in  his  bibliography  (Sifthei  Yeshenim, 
printed  in  the  year  1680,  fol.  15a),  exclusive  of 
the  numerous  commentaries  on  the  '  Chapters  of 
the  Fathers '  (ib.  fol.  18a).  A  few  of  the  more 
prominent  may  be  mentioned,  for,  besides  reminis- 
cences of,  and  direct  quotations  from,  the  older 
literature,  the  authors  have  added  some  more 
instructions — personal  expressions  of  their  own 
conceptions  of  the  duty  and  moral  obligation  in- 
cumbent on  every  Jew.  Here,  of  course,  the 
notions  of  the  fear  of  God  and  the  love  of  God 
prevail,  for  everything  must  be  done  out  of  that 
love  and  for  the  sake  of  hallowing  His  name  by 
moral  actions,  and  thereby  sanctifying  human 
life. 

Nahmanides,  in  1267,  writes  to  his  son  from  Acco  a  'moral 
epistle,'  in  which  he  enjoins,  among  other  things,  that  he  be 
modest  and  humble :  '  When  thou  speakest,  bend  thy  head  and 
lift  up  thine  heart  (sursum  corda  /),  and  speak  quietly,  and 
consider  every  man  whom  thou  addressest  as  being  greater 
than  thou  art.  If  he  be  poor  and  thou  rich,  or  thou  a  greater 
scholar  than  he  is,  then  think  that  thou  art  more  full  of  guilt ; 
or,  if  he  be  sinning,  that  he  is  doing  it  out  of  ignorance, 
unintentionally,  and  not  deliberately.  In  all  thy  deeds  and 
thoughts  remember  Him  of  whom  it  is  said  that  His  glory  filleth 
the  world.' 

Jonah  of  Gerona  (t  1263),  known  as  the  Easid  and  gaddosh, 
i.e.  Martyr,  wrote,  in  the  strain  of  Behay,  his  famous  Sha'arei 
Teshubah,  'Gates  of  Repentance,' and  Sefer  ha-Yir'ah,  'Book 
of  the  Fear  of  God,'  where  the  feeling  of  consciousness  of  the 
gravity  of  sin  and  the  duty  of  repentance  are  expounded  in  a 
masterly  manner.  He  says :  '  There  are  people  who  believe 
that,  if  you  do  not  transgress  any  of  the  written  laws,  you 
cannot  commit  sin,  for  it  is  connected  with  active  work.  And 
yet  there  is  no  greater  loss  for  the  soul  than  to  imagine  that 
purity  consists  only  in  not  having  gone  the  way  of  active  sin, 
and  not  alBO  in  the  neglect  of  the  performance  of  deeds  of 
charity  and  of  good  works.  For  the  highest  perfections  can  be 
achieved  only  by  carrying  out  injunctions  (which  are  not 
direct  legal  commandments,  but  ethical  demands),  such  as  the 
exercise  of  free  will,  love  of  God,  contemplation  of  His  loving- 
kindness,  the  recognition  of  God's  ways  in  His  visitation  of 
man,  and,  above  all,  in  the  sanctification  of  His  name  by 
worship,  fear,  and  by  cleaving  unto  Him '  (Sha  'arei  Teshubah 
ii.  §§  14,  17).  '  Do  not  pretend  that  thou  art  not  able  to  help  by 
word  or  deed,  for,  if  thou  refusest,  thy  strength  will  wane ' 
(ib.  §  70).  '  Thou  shalt  not  take  a  bribe  (Ex  23s)  means  also, 
Thou  shalt  not  allow  thy  judgment  to  be  influenced  by  flattery,' 
for  the  purity  of  conscience  will  thereby  be  clouded  (ib.  §  98). 

Almost  contemporary  with  these  were  Yehudah  the  Pious  in 
Germany  (12th  cent.),  and  his  pupil  Eleazar  of  Worms  (t  1238), 
and  Yehiel  b.  Yekutiel  in  Rome  (1278),  as  well  as  Moses  of 
Coucy  in  France  (1233-46),  who  wrote  ethical  treatises  and 
guides  for  a  moral  life — the  '  Book  of  the  Pious,'  Sefer  Easidim 
'  (Yehudah);  the  'Perfection  of  Human  Conscience,'  Ma'alath 


46 


CONSCIENCE  (Muslim) 


ha-Middoth  (Yekutiel) ;  and  the  great  Code  of  Laws,  Se/er 
Miswoth  ha-Gadhol  (Moses  of  Coucy).  Each  of  these  men  re- 
presents a  special  school  of  thought.  The  first  two  are  of  a 
mystical  disposition,  Quietists  ;  the  writer  in  Rome  follows,  on 
the  whole,  the  philosophical  writers  ;  while  the  codifier  of  the 
Law,  like  Maimonides,  introduces  chapters  on  ethical  duties  into 
the  very  Code  :  '  Be  fair  to  every  one,  be  he  a  Jew  or  a  Gentile.' 
'  Money  obtained  by  sweating  the  workman,  or  by  buying  stolen 
goods  and  idols  as  ornaments,  brings  no  blessing.'  '  Draw  the 
attention  of  the  Gentile  to  his  mistake  (in  any  business  trans- 
action) ;  and  better  live  on  charity  and  begging  than  appro- 
priate the  money  of  others,  which  will  be  a  disgrace  to  Judaism 
and  to  the  Jewish  name.'  '  Be  honest  with  every  one,  no 
matter  to  what  faith  he  belongs.'  'Those  who  clip  the  coin, 
who  sell  short  measure,  who  practise  usury,  are  a  curse  ;  and 
there  is  no  blessing  in  their  money.'  '  Do  not  say,  "I  will  repay 
evil,"  but  trust  in  God,  and  He  will  help  thee.'  '  If  any  one 
has  defrauded  thee  or  Drought  false  witness  against  thee,  or  has 
ruined  thee,  do  not  avenge  the  injustice  by  doing  the  same  to 
him.'  'Do  not  listen  to  slander'  (Yehudah  Hasid).  'Act  in 
such  a  manner  that  thou  needst  not  be  ashamed  of  thyself.' 
'  Keep  thine  imagination  pure,  so  that  thy  deeds  may  be  like- 
wise.' '  Know  that  the  reward  from  the  Lord  is  in  accordance 
with  thy  resistance  to  sin.'  'The  highest  aim  and  ambition  of 
man  should  be  to  fulfil  the  commandments,  to  sanctify  His 
name,  and  to  sacrifice  himself  for  God's  sake'  (Eleazar).  'A 
Sage  said  :  "  Whoever  sows  hatred  reaps  regret."  '  '  Be  true  and 
honest,  as  our  Sages  say  :  "  Let  your  yea  be  yea  and  your  nay 
nay."  '  *  If  a  Gentile  trusts  you  and  relies  upon  your  word,  you 
must  in  all  your  transactions  justify  his  confidence  and  be  true 
and  honest,  so  that  the  name  of  God  be  sanctified '  (Yekutiel). 
'  Whosoever  is  a  novice  in  the  fear  of  God  shall  say  every 
morning  on  rising  :  "To-day  I  will  be  a  faithful  servant  of  the 
Lord  ;  I  will  beware  of  wrath,  lying,  hatred,  strife,  and  envy ;  I 
will  not  look  (lustfully)  upon  women,  and  I  will  forgive  those 
who  hurt  me."  '  '  Whoever  forgives  is  forgiven  ;  hard-hearted- 
ness  and  implacability  are  grave  sins  unworthy  of  a  Jew' 
(Moses  of  Coucy). 

The  mystical  philosophy  of  religion  embodied  in 
the  Zohar,  the  chief  exponent  of  the  later  ]£ab- 
bala,  recognizes  no  less  emphatically  the  call  of 
conscience.  The  fulfilment  of  moral  duties  is  not 
only  a  reward  in  itself,  but  it  is  the  main  cause  of 
the  harmony  of  the  world  and  of  the  uninterrupted 
flow  of  Divine  grace  from  the  highest  spheres  down 
to  the  mundane  sphere.  '  Woe  unto  the  sinners, 
for  they  keep  the  Divine  glory  in  exile,'  is  a  con- 
stantly recurring  phrase.  The  mystical  philosophy 
has  in  this  case  not  contributed  to  weaken  the 
moral  fibre,  and  a  high  tone  of  ethical  loftiness 
pervades  the  pages  of  the  Zohar. 

In  conclusion,  a  few  wills  may  now  be  men- 
tioned. That  of  Asher  b.  Yehiel  is  of  special 
interest  on  account  of  the  fact  that  his  code  of  the 
Law,  with  slight  modifications,  is  the  direct  source 
of  the  recognized  standard  religious  Jewish  Code. 
He  died  in  1327,  and  by  his  will  continued  the  old 
tradition,  which  was  carried  on  to  the  end  of  the 
18th  cent,  and  even  later.  Among  the  authors 
are  men  like  his  son,  Yehudah  b.  Asher  (t  1349), 
Abraham,  and  his  grandson  Sheftel  Hurwitz  (17th 
cent.),  and  the  founder  of  the  sect  of  the  modern 
Hasidim,  Israel  Ba'al  Shem-Tob  (end  of  18th 
cent.).  Differing  somewhat  in  their  views  on 
Divine  worship,  they  are  at  one  in  the  conception 
of  moral  duty  and  human  responsibility,  as  lying 
not  in  the  fulfilment  of  legal  commandments  alone, 
but  to  a  greater  degree  in  the  performance  of 
moral  obligations  for  which  there  is  no  incentive 
by  the  promise  of  reward,  and  no  threat  of  punish- 
ment for  neglect. 

Last,  not  least,  the  'Shining  Lamp,'  Menorath 
ha-Ma'6r,  of  Israel  ben  Joseph  Alnaqua  (t  1391), 
preserved  partly  in  the  Reshith  Hokhmah, 
'  Beginning  of  Principles  of  Wisdom,'  of  Elijah  de 
Vidas  (16th  cent.),  and  the  compilation  of  Isaac 
Aboab  under  the  same  name,  Menorath  ha-Ma'dr, 
contain  the  gist  of  the  ethical  and  Haggadic  teach- 
ing of  the  Rabbis.  Though  a  rather  large  volume, 
this  book  has  been  the  household  book  of  Jewry 
from  the  time  of  its  compilation  (c.  1300)  to  the 
present  day.  It  has  been  translated  into  many 
languages,  and,  together  with  the  Book  of  Elijah 
de  Vidas,  it  is  the  Golden  Treasury.  The  love 
of  one's  neighbour,  and  the  principles  of  moral 
rectitude,   of  moral  duty,  of  the  heinousness  of 


clandestine  sin  and  open  hypocrisy,  of  the  happi- 
ness wrought  by  repentance  and  a  clean  conscience, 
of  loving- kindness  and  mercy  as  Divine  attributea 
to  be  imitated  by  man,  of  moral  perfection  to  be 
attained  not  only  by  outward  ceremonial  law  or  by 
fulfilment  of  prescribed  legislation,  but  by  following 
the  inner  voices  of  the  soul  and  the  unwritten 
commands  of  the  Divine  in  man,  of  the  hallowing 
of  life  and  the  sanctification  of  the  name  of  God — 
of  all  this  the  book  is  full.  Its  aim  is  summed 
up  in  exemplifying  the  words  of  the  prophet,  in  the 
light  of  Maimonides'  interpretation  that  the  high- 
est duty  of  man  is  to  fulfil  acts  of  hesed,  '  lov- 
ing-kindness,' mishpat,  'judgment,'  and  sedakah, 
'  righteousness ' :  '  For  I  am  the  Lord  which  exercise 
loving-kindness,  judgment,  and  righteousness,  in 
the  earth  :  for  in  these  things  I  delight,  saith  the 
Lord'  (Jer  9M).  This  has  remained  the  guiding 
principle  for  '  conscience '  in  Judaism. 

Literature. — In  addition  to  the  authorities  cited  in  the 
article,  see  L.  Zunz,  Gottesdienstl.  Vortrage  der  Judcrfi,  Frank- 
fort, 1892,  p.  103  ff.,  '  Ethische  Hagada,'  also  Zur  Geschichle  und 
Literatur,  i.,  Berlin,  1846,  p.  122  ft*.  '  Sittenlehrer ' ;  D.  Rosin, 
Ethik  dee  Maimonides,  Breslau,  1876 ;  M.  Lazarus,  The  Ethics 
of  Judaism,  2  vols.,  Philadelphia,  1901-2 ;  art.  '  Ethics'  in  JE; 
S.  Baeck,  '  Die  Sittenlehrer,'  in  Jiid.  Literat,  ed.  Winter- 
Wfinsche,  iii.,  Treves,  1896,  p.  627fl. ;  I.  Suwalski,  Eayyei 
ka-Yehudi  al  pi  ha-Talmud?,  Warsaw,  1893. 

M.  Gaster. 

CONSCIENCE  (Muslim).— i.  Names  for  the 
phenomenon. — The  normal  manifestations  of  the 
conscience,  whether  in  individuals  or  in  com- 
munities, are  to  be  found  in  uneasiness  about  acts 
perpetrated  in  the  past,  and  the  desire  to  make 
amends  for  them,  or  in  refraining  from  perpetra- 
tion, on  grounds  of  abstract  right  and  wrong. 
These  manifestations  are  to  be  found  among  moral 
agents  with  few  or  no  exceptions,  but  they  are  not 
always  labelled  with  a  name.  Probably  the  nearest 
equivalent  in  Arabic  is  the  word  al-zajir,  '  the 
restrainer,'  defined  as  '  God's  preacher  in  the  heart 
of  the  believer,  the  light  cast  therein  which 
summons  him  to  the  truth ' ;  but  it  obviously 
refers  to  the  second  group  of  manifestations  only, 
and  its  limitation  to  '  Believers '  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  in  a  sense,  according  to  the  Islamic  system, 
the  unbeliever  can  do  no  wrong,  as  being  outside 
God's  covenant.  For  the  first  group  probably  the 
wordsarira,  'the  secret,'  i.e.  the  secret  self,  would 
be  the  nearest  synonym ;  this  is  the  word  used 
in  the  maxim  'God  concerns  Himself  with  your 
consciences,'  embodied  by  Omar  I.  in  his  Instruc- 
tions to  a  Judge.  The  modern  Islamic  languages 
employ  conventional  translations  of  the  European 
words ;  in  Turkish  vijdan  (properly  '  sensation ')  is 
employed,  in  Arabic  damir  ('the  hidden  being'). 
But  for  the  adjective  '  conscientious '  it  is  probable 
that  a  paraphrase  would  have  to  be  used. 

2.  The  conscience  in  law. — The  maxim  quoted 
above  was  of  the  highest  importance  for  the 
development  of  Islam.  Whereas  St.  Paul  says, 
'  he  is  not  a  Jew  who  is  one  outwardly '  (Ro  228), 
the  Prophet's  doctrine  was,  '  he  is  a  Muslim  who 
is  one  outwardly,'  i.e.  who  pronounces  a  certain 
formula  and  pays  a  certain  rate.  In  virtue  of  this 
principle,  and  another  to  the  effect  that  Islam 
cancelled  all  that  was  before  it,  the  Propliet's 
most  stubborn  opponents  and  persecutors  might 
be  admitted  to  the  privileges  of  Islam  without  any 
atonement  for  their  former  conduct  being  necessary, 
or  any  guarantee  that  their  conversion  was  dictated 
by  anything  but  fear.  The  phrase  '  union  of 
hearts '  was  applied  to  the  winning  over  of  opponents 
by  bribes.  The  inquisition  into  people's  private 
character  and  opinions,  carried  on  by  some  Islamic 
sovereigns,  was  in  open  contradiction  to  the 
Prophet's  principles,  and  confession  of  secret  sin  was 
so  far  from  being  encouraged  by  the  Prophet,  that, 
in  a  tradition  of  fair  authority,  he  is  represented 
as  doing  his  utmost  to  dissuade  a  man  from  confess- 


CONSCIENTIOUSNESS 


47 


ing.  In  the  maxim  quoted  from  Omar  the  reference 
is  to  the  credibility  of  Muslim  witnesses,  into 
which  no  inquiry  may  be  made.  Provided  they 
are  not  notorious  evil-livers— a  term  which  is 
clearly  denned — all  Muslims  are  credible.  On  the 
other  hand,  to  religious  performances  the  maxim 
'  acts  are  by  their  intentions '  applies.  And  Omar 
held  that  the  Divine  power  would  intervene  to 
expose  cases  of  shameless  hypocrisy  which  would 
seriously  interfere  with  the  course  oi  justice. 

3.  Conscience  as  a  guide  to  the  individual. — So 
far  as  the  conscience  is  identical  with  the  moral 
sense,  or  instinctive  notions  of  right  and  wrong, 
the  Prophet's  system  took  little  account  of  it ; 
indeed,  its  tendency  was  to  make  the  Prophet's 
revelations  and  practice  the  sole  source  whence 
knowledge  of  right  and  wrong  could  be  obtained. 
His  followers  constantly  handed  their  consciences 
over  to  his  keeping,  being  unwilling  to  set  their 
opinion  against  his.  The  fact  that  he  claimed 
obedience  only  in  Ileitis  et  honestis  shows  that  he 
did  not  really  claim  the  infallibility  which  logic 
compelled  his  followers  to  ascribe  to  him.  That 
logic  was,  however,  irresistible ;  for,  if  the  right 
of  private  judgment  were  once  allowed,  clearly 
people  could  not  be  compelled  to  accept  Islam  at 
all.  Although,  then,  there  are  occasional  attempts 
at  basing  a  system  of  ethics  on  either  reason  or 
the  natural  sense  ol  right,  these  are  not  really  in 
accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  religion.  The 
reference  is  regularly  to  the  Qur'an,  the  practice 
of  the  Prophet,  and  the  sayings  of  his  followers : 
'  Whoso  makes  them  his  model  goes  right '  is  a 
common  saying.  The  scope  allowed  to  the  con- 
science in  private  affairs  by  Muslim  writers  is 
similar  to  that  indicated  by  the  maxim  noblesse 
oblige.  So  the  formula,  '  I  appeal  from  you  to 
yourself,'  i.e.  'your  better  self,'  is  occasionally 
heard.1  Hence  the  word  abiyy,  '  refusing,'  is  often 
applied  by  poets  to  a  soul  which  declines  of  itself 
to  enter  humiliating  courses. 

4.  The  public  conscience. — In  Oriental  despot- 
isms the  sovereign  does  not,  as  a  rule,  pay  much 
regard  to  public  opinion,  and  it  might  be  hard  to 
find  any  case  in  Muslim  history  in  which  the 
conduct  of  the  sovereign  had  been  of  itself  actively 
resented ;  neither  parricide  nor  fratricide,  de- 
bauchery, nor  even  heresy,  appears  to  have  of 
itself  stirred  up  such  indignation  among  the 
subjects  as  to  cost  a  sovereign  his  throne.  The 
assassination  of  the  monster  al-Hakim,  the  Fatimid 
Khalif  (A.D.  1021),  seems  to  have  caused  more 
indignation  than  his  long  catalogue  of  atrocities. 
Cases  are  therefore  of  interest  in  which  concessions 
are  made  by  the  sovereign  to  the  public  conscience, 
to  the  extent  of  salving  it ;  for  such  concessions 
imply  that  the  sovereign  thought  it  worth  salving. 
A  fiction  with  which  we  meet  in  Egyptian  history 
more  than  once  is  the  discovery  of  buried  treasure, 
enabling  the  sovereign  to  build  a  mosque — there 
being  a  doubt  whether  the  Muslims  would  attend 
worship  in  one  which  had  been  built  out  of  ill- 
gotten  gains.  The  murder  of  a  brother  was  occa- 
sionally explained  in  an  official  document  as  an 
accidental  death,2  etc. ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
clever  usurpers  not  infrequently  gathered  followers 
by  stirring  up  public  indignation  against  those 
whom  they  wished  to  overthrow.  The  Umayyad 
and'  Abbasid  dynasties  both  won  their  first  triumphs 
in  this  way.  It  was  at  times  thought  worth  while 
to  murder  a  saintly  man  and  make  it  appear  that 
a  sovereign  had  perpetrated  the  crime,  with  the 
view  of  getting  him  dethroned.3  Similarly,  in  our 
time  there  have  been  suspicions  of  atrocities  being 
engineered  in  the  Ottoman  empire  for  the  purpose 

1  Yaqut,  Diet,  of  Learned  Men,  ed.  Margoliouth,  1910,  vol.  v. 
('  Life  of  Ibn  al-'Amid  '). 

2  Ibn  al-Athir,  ix.  161  (Cairo,  1303). 
s  lb.  ix.  29. 


of  rousing  the  conscience  of  Europe.  The  best- 
informed  political  writers  in  the  East  insist  on  the 
maxim,  '  the  people  follow  the  religion  of  their 
kings,'  and  the  maxim,  '  even  in  your  conscience 
curse  not  the  king '  (Ec  1020),  represents  the  prevail- 
ing practice. 

5.  Noteworthy  manifestations  of  the  conscience. 
— Although  the  lives  of  the  Muslim  sovereigns,  as 
told  by  their  chroniclers,  frequently,  if  not  ordi- 
narily, display  absolute  ruthlessness,  yet  in  their 
relations  with  those  persons  who  played  the  part  of 
the  Hebrew  prophets,  conscientiousness  seems  to 
have  been  the  rule  rather  than  the  exception. 
Cases  in  which  the  sovereign,  however  arbitrary, 
permitted  himself  to  be  rebuked  by  a  saint,  and  even 
followed  the  saint's  advice,  are  quite  common.1  A 
saint  might  even  denounce  the  doings  of  a  Khalif 
from  the  pulpit.2  The  following  anecdote  of  the 
Ghaznavid  Mahmud  b.  Sabuktakin  illustrates  the 
conscientiousness  of  an  Oriental  despot.  A  tradi- 
tionalist was  summoned  to  repeat  edifying  matter 
before  the  Sultan.  The  man  commenced  his 
discourse  before  he  had  been  asked,  and  a  slave 
was  told  to  box  his  ears.  The  blow  rendered  the 
preacher  permanently  deaf.  The  Sultan  was  deeply 
distressed  at  this  result,  and  offered  abundant 
gifts  in  compensation ;  the  traditionalist  declined 
them  all,  saying  he  would  accept  nothing  but  what 
had  been  taken  from  him,  the  power  of  hearing. 
Requests  from  the  Sultan  for  pardon  were  met 
merely  with  a  reference  to  the  final  judgment. 
To  this  stubborn  reply  the  Sultan  answered  with 
an  embrace.8 

There  is  a  considerable  literature  on  the  desir- 
ability of  cleansing  the  'inner  man,'  of  which 
Ghazall's  '  Scrutiny  of  the  Hearts '  may  be 
mentioned  as  an  example.4 

Literature.— This  is  given  in  the  article. 

D.  S.  Margoliouth. 

CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.-Conscientiousness 
(from  'conscience'  [q.v.])  may  be  described  as  an 
attitude  within  the  moral  life,  a  source  of  virtue, 
rather  than  one  of  the  virtues.  Judgment,  with 
its  intellectual  reference,  and  integrity,  with  its 
emotional  reference,  are  involved,  imparting  direc- 
tion to  conduct,  and  tending  strongly  to  the  adap- 
tation of  habit  on  the  basis  of  new  values. 

Developed  morality  presupposes  two  main  groups 
of  elements  which  interact  with  each  other.  These 
are  the  objective  and  the  subjective,  often  termed 
the  universal  (or  social)  and  the  individual  (or  per- 
sonal). The  former  consists  of  customs  and  usages, 
of  conventions,  observances,  and  legal  or  quasi- 
legal  codes,  of  social  and  political  institutions. 
All,  in  turn,  are  integral  to  a  cultural  organiza- 
tion such  as  a  race,  a  people,  or  even  an  epoch.  The 
latter,  though  inseparable  from  the  former,  con- 
sists of  the  peculiar  contribution  resultant  upon 
the  reaction  of  individuals  to  the  norms  of  the 
social  unity.  So  long  as  this  response  remains 
unconscious  or  unrenective,  personal  character 
misses  complete  distinctiveness,  and  tends  to  keep 
the  level  of  the  general,  customary  average.  But 
when,  thanks  to  a  subtle  admixture  of  intellect 
and  emotion,  men  place  themselves  in  a  reflective 
attitude  towards  the  norms  of  the  communal  spirit, 
conscientiousness  supervenes,  and  obligation  ac- 
quires an  enhanced,  because  positively  recognized, 
influence  upon  character. 

'  Conscientiousness,  then,  is  reflective  intelligence  grown  into 
character.  It  involves  a  greater  and  wider  recognition  of  obli- 
gation in  general,  and  a  larger  and  more  stable  emotional 
response  to  everything  that  presents  itself  as  duty  ;  as  well  as 
the  habit  of  deliberate  consideration  of  the  moral  situation  and 
of  the  acts  demanded  by  it '  (J.  Dewey,  Outlines  of  a  Critical 
Theory  of  Ethics,  1891,  p.  200). 

In  a  word,  conscientiousness  is   marked   by  the 
1  e.g.  Tabari,  iii.  668.  2JRAS,  1907,  p.  309. 

3  Yaqut,  Diet,  of  Learned  Men,  v. 
*  Mukashafat  al-qulub,  Cairo,  1323. 


48 


CONSCIENTIOUSNESS 


presence  of  a  reinforced  requirement  of  conscience, 
and  by  the  effort  to  meet  it.  Yet,  even  so,  the  con- 
dition of  moral  anxiety,  accompanied  by  habitual 
introspection,  can  hardly  be  accepted  as  an  equi- 
table account  of  the  matter.  This  view  savours 
too  much  of  temporary  circumstances,  associated, 
say,  with  such  supposititious  entities  as  the  '  Non- 
conformist conscience,'  the  '  New  England  con- 
science,' or  the  like.  Possibly  the  Puritan  strain 
led  Green  to  formulate  his  over-subjective  analysis : 

'  There  remain  the  cases  (1)  of  reflexion  on  past  actions  of  our 
own,  (2)  of  consideration  whether  an  act  should  be  presently 
done,  which  it  rests  with  ourselves  to  do  or  not  to  do.  In  both 
these  cases,  the  question  of  the  character  or  state  of  will  which 
an  action  represents  may  be  raised  with  a  possibility  of  being 
answered.  Given  an  ideal  of  virtue  ...  a  man  may  ask  him- 
self, Was  I,  in  doing  so  and  so,  acting  as  a  good  man  should, 
with  a  pure  heart,  with  a  will  set  on  the  objects  on  which  it 
should  be  set? — or  again,  Shall  I,  in  doing  so  and  so,  be  acting 
as  a  good  man  should,  goodness  being  understood  in  the  same 
sense  ?  .  .  .  The  habit  in  a  man  of  raising  such  questions  about 
himself  as  those  just  indicated,  is  what  we  have  mainly  in  view 
when  we  call  him  conscientious '  (Prol.  to  Ethics,  1SS3,  p.  322  f.). 

But  conscientiousness  is  not  to  be  identified  with 
conscience  'in  its  extreme  form  of  self-reflective- 
ness,' which  '  investigates  with  the  searching  power 
of  an  expert,  in  order  to  discover  the  slightest  de- 
flection from  what  it  holds  to  be  good.  It  is  because 
of  its  personal  or  individual  character  that  it  is 
able  to  put  forward  a  claim  to  independence  of  the 
State  or  of  any  social  order'  (S.  Alexander,  Moral 
Order  and  Progress,  1889,  p.  157  f.).  Accordingly, 
one  may  accentuate  the  subjective  aspect  of  con- 
scientiousness readily,  and  thus  minimize  the  objec- 
tive reference.  If  it  be  reduced  to  a  mere  analysis 
of  internal  moods,  it  may  very  well  indicate  weak- 
ness rather  than  strength  of  character. 

'  The  simply  ethical  temper  is  related  to  spiritual  productive- 
ness as  mere  good  taste  is  to  creativeness  in  poetry  and  art. 
With  so  circumspect  a  step  it  makes  no  way ;  and,  though  it 
never  wanders,  never  flies.  For  ever  occupied  in  distinguishing, 
it  acquires  the  habit  of  fear  instead  of  love — nay,  above  all 
things,  /ears  to  love.  Its  maxims  are  maxims  of  avoidance, 
which  shape  themselves  into  negatives,  and  guard  every  avenue 
with  the  flaming  sword  of  prohibition,  "Thou  Shalt  not."  In 
apprehension  of  possible  evil,  it  dares  not  surrender  itself  to 
any  admiration  and  fling  itself  into  unrestrained  action  for  any 
haunting  end :  the  admiration  must  first  be  scrutinized,  till  it 
has  cooled  and  its  force  is  gone ;  the  end  in  view  is  traced 
through  a  thicket  of  comparisons,  till  it  is  lost  in  the  wood. 
Nothing,  accordingly,  is  more  rare  than  a  character  at  once 
balanced  and  powerful,  judicial  and  enthusiastic  ;  and  faultless 
perception  is  apt  to  involve  feeble  inspiration '  (James  Martineau, 
Types  of  Ethical  Theory  2,  1886,  ii.  60). 

Thus  the  division  of  opinion  regarding  conscien- 
tiousness has  its  roots  in  the  two  groups  of  elements 
inseparable  from  morality.  If  the  objective  factor 
be  emphasized,  knowledge  of  social  demands,  or 
insight  into  their  nature,  is  viewed  as  the  dominant 
feature.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  emphasis  be  laid 
on  the  subjective  factor,  self-examination,  with 
anxiety  about  personal  moods  and  feelings,  assumes 
primary  importance. 

In  the  Greek  world,  where  our  sense  of  conscien- 
tiousness had  not  developed,  but  where  '  wisdom ' 
(aofpla,  aiveais,  not  yet  o-vv^IStjo-is)  played  a  parallel 
role,  the  community-aggregate  of  predispositions 
and  tendencies  in  the  realm  of  values  (cf.  Grote, 
Plato  and  the  Other  Companions  of  Sokrates,  1865, 
i.  249)  furnished  plentiful  material  which  was  re- 
garded as  neither  good  nor  bad.  The  '  wise  man ' 
was  likened  to  an  artist,  who  shaped  this  raw  stuff 
into  the  masterpiece  of  a  model  life.    For  example, 

'  Aristotle  presents  us  with  the  general  type  of  a  subtle  and 
shifting  problem,  the  solution  of  which  must  be  worked  out 
afresh  by  each  individual  in  each  particular  case.  Conduct  to 
him  is  a  free  and  living  creature,  and  not  a  machine  controlled 
by  fixed  laws.  Every  life  is  a  work  of  art  shaped  by  the  man 
who  lives  it'  (G.  L.  Dickinson,  The  Greek  View  of  Life*,  1907, 
p.  137). 

Accordingly,  paradox  though  it  may  seem,  virtue 
was  knowledge,  in  the  sense  that  the  superior,  and 
therefore  thoughtful,  citizen  superimposed  a  con- 
scious (reflective)  attitude  upon  the  traditional 
custom  of  the  TroXireta.  In  this  way  the  -'  higher 
law '  of  wisdom  was  made  manifest.     But,  leaving 


the  imperfect  Socratics  out  of  account  (cf.  Cynics, 
CASUISTRY),  it  bore  rather  upon  group-norms  than 
upon  the  independent  '  conscientious '  judgment  of 
the  individual.  The  internal  thrust  of  the  prin- 
ciple had  to  await  Stoicism  and  the  Christian  con- 
sciousness. 

Nevertheless,  the  classical  moralists  of  Greece 
did  originate  the  idea  of  inward  principle,  of  indi- 
vidual reaction  upon  the  cultural  situation,  with 
the  result  that,  consequent  upon  profound  civil 
vicissitudes,  the  Stoic  conception  of  'conscience,' 
based  on  the  independence  of  the  '  wise  man,'  grew 
up  and  acquired  fixity.  In  this  way,  dynamic  pro- 
gress in  morality,  as  contrasted  with  static  custom, 
was  enlivened — not,  however,  without  pathological 
accompaniments,  because  the  restraints  of  the  old 
society  weakened.  Despite  this,  two  heritages  had 
been  prepared  for  the  Christian  consciousness  :  the 
conception  of  inner  principle,  mediated  indivi- 
dually ;  and  the  doctrine  that,  in  the  sphere  of 
morality  at  least,  whatever  might  be  said  of  reli- 
gion, this  inward  principle  must  be  adjudged  by  the 
mind.  Thus  the  contrast  between  the  two  ele- 
ments— the  objective  or  social  and  the  subjective 
or  individual — took  definite  shape.  And  successive 
conceptions  of  conscientiousness  witnessed,  if  not  a 
struggle,  then  a  lack  of  balance,  between  them. 
At  one  time,  as  in  the  mediasval  view  of  'prudence,' 
the  objective  tended  to  assert  itself ;  at  another, 
as  in  the  Puritan  emphasis  on  'righteousness,'  the 
subjective  exercised  primacy.  In  a  word,  men  con- 
structed their  description  of  the  source  of  virtue 
on  the  basis  of  current  relative  evaluation  of  the 
virtues. 

The  very  fact,  then,  that  the  Christian  conscious- 
ness has  substituted  'conscientiousness'  for  the 
'  wisdom '  of  the  Greeks — and  this  finally — suffices 
to  show  that  the  internal  and  individual  had  won 
full  recognition.  The  conscientious  man  must  use 
discernment,  according  to  the  inward  principle, 
with  reference  to  the  norms  of  social  custom.  Moral 
progress  and  initiative  pivot  upon  this.  On  the 
other  hand,  this  initiative  is  concerned  about  these 
same  customs — to  discover  how  they  may  be  pre- 
served lively.  And  yet,  of  necessity,  this  process 
means  that,  because  they  are  subjects  of  concern 
and  of  consequent  new  estimate,  they  must  alter. 

Conscientiousness,  then,  may  be  described  as 
genuine  concern,  mediated  intelligently,  for  all 
such  values.  This  cannot  but  result  in  approval 
and  disapproval ;  and  these  attitudes  are  traceable 
in  part  to  emotional  convictions  about  an  inward 
ideal.  So  far  as  the  conscientious  man  has  made 
this  ideal  his  own,  being  able  to  say,  'This  one 
thing  I  do,'  it  has  become  '  the  way  and  the  truth  ' 
for  him.  Accordingly,  in  the  issue,  conscientious- 
ness turns  out  to  be  an  energetic  pursuit  of  an 
individual-social  ideal — an  ideal  that  appeals  to 
emotion  mainly  through  objective  associations, 
and  to  intellect  mainly  through  intelligent  per- 
sonal reactions  to  those  associations.  The  con- 
scientious man  is  at  once  responsive  to  social 
achievements  and  ends,  and  considerate  of  the  one 
principle  whereby  these  ends  are  relegated  to  their 
due  places  in  a  harmonious  whole.  He  feels  that 
his  own  goodness  is  bound  up  with  that  of  others, 
hence  personal  assertion  of  the  norm  as  he  envisages 
it ;  he  knows  that  his  own  progress  must  depend 
ultimately  upon  the  clearness  of  his  apprehension 
of  the  inward  principle.  Thus  reflective  insight, 
on  the  basis  of  affective  conviction,  grasping  and 
transforming  group-norms,  constitutes  the  moral 
attitude  known  as  conscientiousness.  For  this 
reason,  the  latter  is  held  to  be  the  source  and 
guardian  of  virtue.  It  serves  itself  the  central 
factor  to  be  reckoned  with  in  an  active  moral  con- 
sciousness. 

But,  further,  this  implies  that  conscientiousness 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


49 


is  characterized  by  disinterestedness.  Otherwise, 
it  would  not  include  a  concrete  estimate  of  the 
entire  import  of  an  action.  Self-assertion  here 
becomes  a  species  of  self-forgetfulness.  For  by 
this  quality  the  self-reference  of  conscientiousness 
is  merged  in  a  larger  whole.  So,  if  this  quality  be 
emphasized,  conscientiousness  may  find  a  place  in 
the  list  of  virtues.  It  would  then  stand  as  the  chief 
of  the  cardinal  virtues,  thus  becoming  more  or  less 
identical  with  what  modern  moralists  have  termed 
the  'good  will.'  This  implies  that  it  is  the  guar- 
antee, not  of  mental  acumen  or  of  aesthetic  taste, 
but  of  goodness  realizing  itself  throughout  the 
entire  circle  of  a  life  which,  in  turn,  draws  sus- 
tenance from  the  norms  of  the  community.  In 
these  norms  the  conscientious  man  discovers  new 
stimuli  to  the  inner  principle.  But  the  necessity 
for  reflexion  rules  out  supposititious  automatic 
deliverances  of  an  equally  supposititious  '  internal 
tribunal' — 'conscience.'  Briefly,  vital  interest  in 
the  good,  as  the  principle  reveals  it,  at  once  sets 
problems,  and  points  the  conditions  of  their  solution. 
Fusion  of  sober  judgment  with  earnest  aspiration, 
and  fusion  of  restraint,  mediated  socially,  with 
fervent  desire,  both  passing  over  into  will,  consti- 
tute the  modern  counterpart  of  the  Greek  'wisdom.' 
And  this  species  of  ethical  apperception  which 
imports  our  experience  into  a  moral  order,  and  also 
perceives  that  it  is  originated  from  a  moral  order, 
is  true  conscientiousness.  It  is  the  pre-requisite 
and  accompaniment  of  any  end  which  moral  beings 
can  adopt  for  the  completion  of  their  well-being. 
Hence  its  inevitable  relation  to  questions  which 
pass  over  into  the  field  of  religion. 

See  also  Conscience,  Ethics  (Christian),  Wis- 
dom. 

Literature. — Besides  the  works  mentioned  in  the  text,  see 
J.  Hinton,  Man  and  his  Dwelling-Place*,  1872,  bk.  iii.  ch.  iv., 
Philosophy  and  Religion*,  1884,  ch.  v.,  The  Law-Breaker  and 
the  Coming  of  the  Law,  1884,  p.  209  (. ;  C.  Haddon,  The  Larger 
Life,  1886,  p.  60  f.  ;  F.  H.  Bradley,  Ethical  Studies,  1876,  p. 
Sit.;  I.  A.  Dorner,  System  of  Christian.  Ethics  (Eng.  tr.),  1887, 
p.  221  f. ;  G.  von  Gizycki,  Manual  of  Ethical  Philosophy  (Eng. 
tr.),  1889,  chs.  iii.-v.  ;  Scotus  Novanticus  (S.  S.  Laurie),  Ethica, 
or  the  Ethics  of  Reason2,  1891,  chs.  v.  xxix.  xxxiii.-v. ;  J.  H. 
Muirhead,  The  Elements  of  Ethics,  1892,  bk.  v. ;  J.  D.  Robert- 
son, Conscience,  1894,  vol.  i.  pt.  i.,  pt.  ii.  sect.  B,  ch.  v. ;  J.  Bonar, 
The  Intellectual  Virtues,  1894;  G.  Harris,  Moral  Evolution, 
1896,  cbs.  iv.  ix. ;  J.  S.  Mackenzie,  A  Manual  of  Ethics*,  1897, 
pp.  356f.,368f. ;  J.  Seth,  A  Study  of  Ethical  Principles*,  1898, 
p.  215 f . ;  F.  Paulsen,  A  System  of  Ethics  (Eng.  tr.),  1899,  bk. 
ii.  ch.  v.  p.  683;  J.  Maccunn,  The  Making  of  Character,  1900, 
pt.  iii. ;  W.  Wundt,  Ethics  (Eng.  tr.),  1901,  vol.  iii.  p.  64  f. ; 
S.  E.  Mezes,  Ethics,  Descriptive  and  Explanatory,  1901,  pp. 
60  f.,  80t.  ;  G.  H.  Palmer,  The  Field  of  Ethics,  1901,  Lect.  v. ; 
Alice  Gardner,  The  Conflict  of  Duties,  1903,  chs.  i.  iii.  xi.  ; 
E.  von  Dobschiitz,  Christian  Life  in  the  Primitive  Church 
(Eng.  tr.),  1904,  p.  399  (. ;  A.  H.  Lloyd  in  HJ  vi.  (1908)  810  f. ; 
J.  Dewey  and  J.  H.  Tufts,  Ethics,  1908,  ch.  xix.  (with  lit.  p. 
423) ;  J.  Royce,  The  Philosophy  of  Loyalty,  1908.  ch.  iv. ; 
T.  von  Haring,  The  Ethics  of  the  Christian  Life  (Eng  tr.), 
1909,  pt.  ii.  ch.  vi.  R.  M.  WENLEY. 

CONSCIOUSNESS.— What  is  consciousness? 
From  the  dawn  of  modern  philosophy  the  question 
has  been  discussed,  and  psychology  and  philosophy 
have  endeavoured  to  find  a  reply.  The  answers 
have  been  very  various,  but  we  may  not  summarize 
them  in  this  article.  To  summarize  those  given 
from  the  time  of  Descartes  onwards  would  be  to 
write  a  history  of  modern  philosophy.  And  at 
present  the  question  is  more  widely  and  more  in- 
cisively discussed  than  ever  before.  Some  philo- 
sophers and  psychologists  almost  insist  on  discard- 
ing the  name  altogether,  while  others  make  the 
results  of  the  analysis  of  consciousness  the  whole 
of  their  philosophy.  For  example,  A.  E.  Taylor 
writes : 

'  This  is  perhapB  the  place  to  add  the  further  remark  that,  if 
we  would  be  rigidly  accurate  in  psychological  terminology,  we 
ought  to  banish  the  very  expression  "consciousness"  or  "states 
of  consciousness  "  from  our  language.  What  are  really  given 
in  experience  are  attentive  processes  with  a  certain  common 
character.  We  abstract  this  character  and  give  it  the  name 
Of  "consciousness,"  and  then  fall  into  the  blunder  of  calling 
vol.  IV. — a. 


the  concrete  processes  "states"  or  "  inodiflcations  "  of  this 
abstraction,  just  as  in  dealing  with  physical  things  we  make 
abstraction  of  their  common  properties  under  the  name  of 
"  matter,"  and  then  talk  as  if  the  things  themselves  were 
"  forms  of  matter."  Properly  speaking,  there  are  physical 
things  and  there  are  minds,  but  there  are  no  such  things  in 
the  actual  world  as  "matter"  and  "consciousness,"  and  we  do 
well  to  avoid  using  the  words  when  we  can  help  it'  (Elements  of 
Metaphysics,  p.  79  n.).  In  the  text,  with  all  the  emphasis  of 
italics,  Taylor  says :  We  cannot  too  strongly  insist  that  if  by 
"  self-consciousness  "  is  meant  a  cognitive  state  which  is  its  own 
object,  there  is  no  such  thing,  and  it  is  a  psychological  impossi- 
bility that  there  should  be  any  such  thing  as  self-consciousness. 
No  cognitive  state  ever  has  itself  for  its  own  object.  Every 
cognitive  state  has  for  its  object  something  other  than  itself ' 
(ib.  p.  79). 

Taylor  makes  short  work  of  consciousness  ;  and 
if  we  took  his  view,  the  writing  of  an  article  on 
consciousness  might  be  dispensed  with.  But,  as 
we  are  hardly  able  to  conceive  what  is  meant  by  a 
cognitive  state  which  has  an  object  which  is  some- 
thing other  than  itself,  we  may  be  permitted  to  go 
on.  It  is  scarcely  consistent  with  the  ordinary  use 
of  language,  and  certainly  quite  inconsistent  with 
the  use  of  psychological  language,  to  speak  of  a 
cognitive  state  in  active  relation  with  an  object. 
For  whom  is  the  state,  and  who  is  aware  of  it? 
But  this  question  may  be  better  discussed  at  a  later 
stage.  Meanwhile  it  may  be  safely  said  that  the 
word  '  consciousness '  denotes  some  phase  or  aspect 
of  our  mental  life,  and  that  it  is  not  identical  with 
any  of  the  other  aspects  which  we  apply  to  parti- 
cular mental  processes  or  states.  It  is  not  feeling, 
nor  is  it  willing,  nor  is  it  thinking ;  but  these 
states  or  processes  have  this  at  least  in  common, 
that  they  are  conscious  states.  The  contrast 
does  not  lie  between  feeling  and  consciousness, 
or  between  willing  and  consciousness,  or  between 
thinking  and  consciousness.  The  contrast  lies  be- 
tween consciousness  and  unconsciousness.  For  the 
characteristic  of  every  mental  state,  or  of  every 
mental  process,  seems  just  to  consist  in  the  fact 
that  they  are  states  of  a  conscious  subject,  and  that 
they  are  for  that  subject. 

While  this  is  so,  many  questions  of  interest 
and  importance  arise  as  to  the  relations  of  the  sub- 
ject to  its  states,  as  to  the  distinction,  if  there 
is  a  distinction,  between  the  phrases  'states  of 
consciousness'  and  'consciousness  of  states.'  Is 
consciousness  to  be  identified  with  the  sum  of  its 
states  ?  Can  we  neglect  the  reference  to  a  subject, 
and  proceed  to  analyze,  compare,  classify,  and 
arrange  these  states  according  to  the  laws  of  their 
growth,  their  interrelations,  and  so  on,  leaving  out 
of  sight,  as  common  to  them  all,  their  relation  to 
a  common  subject?  This  has  been  done,  and,  in 
fact,  it  is  the  ordinary  psychological  procedure. 
But  there  is  always  a  sort  of  uneasiness  about  pro- 
ceeding in  this  way  ;  for  many  inconvenient  ques- 
tions arise  as  to  the  subject  for  whom  the  experiences 
are,  and  the  unity  to  which  they  are  referred.  Ideas, 
processes,  and  states  come  and  go  ;  they  cluster  to- 
gether, they  occupy  our  attention,  and  they  seem 
to  pass  into  the  unconscious.  It  is  natural  that  the 
scene  of  their  appearance  should  be  likened  to  a 
theatre,  and  that,  while  they  have  passed  from  the 
scene,  they  should  have  a  sort  of  existence  behind 
the  scenes.  It  may  be  well  to  quote  the  classic 
illustration  of  Hume  : 

'  For  my  part,  when  I  enter  most  intimately  into  what  I  call 
myself,  I  always  stumble  on  some  particular  perception  or 
other,  of  heat  or  cold,  light  or  shade,  love  or  hatred,  pain  or 
pleasure.  I  never  can  catch  myself  at  any  time  without  a  per- 
ception, and  never  can  observe  anything  but  the  perception. 
When  my  perceptions  are  removed  for  any  time,  as  by  sound 
sleep,  so  long  am  I  insensible  of  myself,  and  may  truly  be  said 
not  to  exist.  And  were  all  my  perceptions  removed  by  death, 
and  could  I  neither  think,  nor  feel,  nor  see,  nor  love,  nor  hate, 
after  the  dissolution  of  my  body,  I  should  be  entirely  annihil- 
ated, nor  do  I  conceive  what  is  further  requisite  to  make  me  a 
perfect  non-entity.  If  any  one,  upon  serious  and  unprejudiced 
reflexion,  thinks  he  has  a  different  notion  of  himself,  I  must 
confess  I  can  reason  no  longer  with  him.  All  I  can  allow  him 
is,  that  he  may  be  in  the  right  as  well  as  I,  and  that  we  are 
essentially  different  in  this  particular.     He  may,  perhaps,  par- 


50 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


ceive  something;  simple  and  continued,  which  he  calls  himself; 
though  I  am  certain  there  is  no  such  principle  in  me. 

But,  setting  aside  some  metaphysicians  of  this  kind,  I  may 
venture  to  affirm  of  the  rest  of  mankind,  that  they  are  nothing 
but  a  bundle  or  collection  of  different  perceptions,  which  succeed 
each  other  with  an  inconceivable  rapidity,  and  are  in  a  perpetual 
flux  and  movement.  Our  eyes  cannot  turn  in  their  sockets  with- 
out varying  our  perceptions.  Our  thought  is  still  more  variable 
than  our  sight ;  and  all  our  other  senses  and  faculties  con- 
tribute to  this  change  ;  nor  is  there  any  single  power  of  the  soul 
which  remains  unalterably  the  same,  perhaps  for  one  moment. 
The  mind  is  a  kind  of  theatre,  where  several  perceptions  suc- 
cessively make  their  appearance  ;  pass,  re-pass,  glide  away,  and 
mingle  in  an  infinite  variety  of  postures  and  situations.  There 
is  properly  no  simplicity  in  it  at  one  time,  nor  identity  in  differ- 
ent ;  whatever  natural  propension  we  may  have  to  imagine  that 
simplicity  and  identity.  The  comparison  of  the  theatre  must 
not  mislead  us.  They  are  the  successive  perceptions  only  that 
constitute  the  mind  ;  nor  have  we  the  most  distant  notion  of  the 
place  where  these  scenes  are  represented,  or  of  the  materials  of 
which  it  is  composed'  (Hume's  Works,  ed.  Green  and  Grose, 
Lond.  1909,  i.  634  f .).  Or,  again,  a  little  further  on  :  '  What  we 
call  mind  is  nothing  but  a  heap  or  bundle  of  different  percep- 
tions united  together  by  certain  relations,  and  supposed,  though 
falsely,  to  be  endowed  with  a  certain  simplicity  and  identity.' 

It  is  a  curious  passage,  and  the  more  we  study 
it  the  more  curious  it  appears.  There  is  the  sug- 
gestion of  a  theatre,  so  often  made  since  by  other 
psychologists,  and  no  sooner  is  it  made  than  it  is 
withdrawn.  Yet  it  has  fulfilled  its  aim.  It  has 
directed  our  attention  to  the  stage,  and  has  so  far 
served  its  purpose.  But  a  theatre  suggests  a  stage, 
and  players,  and  spectators.  These  suggestions, 
however,  are  somewhat  inconvenient,  and  raise 
awkward  questions.  So  we  are  told  that  'the 
comparison  of  the  theatre  must  not  mislead  us.' 
For  it  is  '  the  successive  perceptions  only  that 
constitute  the  mind.'  One  is  compelled  to  ask, 
What  is  a  perception,  and  what  is  a  succession? 
Above  we  were  told  that  '  several  perceptions  suc- 
cessively make  their  appearance — pass,  re-pass, 
glide  away,  and  mingle  in  an  infinite  variety  of 
postures  and  situations.'  The  perceptions  make 
their  appearance — to  whom  ?  Hume  had  formerly 
spoken  of  'what  I  call  myself.'  So  it  is  to  what 
he  calls  himself  that  the  perceptions  appear,  and 
all  the  passing,  re-passing,  and  other  movements 
are  perceived  by  himself.  And  yet  the  mind  that 
perceives,  that  looks  on  at  the  gliding  show,  is 
nothing  but  the  bundle  or  collection  of  different 
perceptions.  Is  the  mind  aware  that  it  is  a  bundle  ? 
Or  that  it  is  a  collection?  Whence  came  the 
bundle  or  collection  ?  And  how  does  it  recognize 
itself  to  be  a  unity?  In  the  passage  before  us, 
Hume  m  unable  to  state  his  argument  without  the 
implication,  in  every  sentence,  of  what  he  formally 
denies.  He  is  in  the  presence  of  a  unique  fact — 
the  fact  of  a  succession  of  perceptions  which  recog- 
nizes itself  as  a  bundle  or  collection.  How  is  it  so  ? 
We  are  careful  to  state  it  in  his  own  language,  for 
that  language  implies  the  unity  of  the  conscious 
subject  to  which  all  the  gliding  appearances  are 
referred.  It  would  appear  that  we  are  face  to  face 
with  a  unique  kind  of  thing — a  thing  which  seems 
at  the  same  time  to  be  knower  and  known,  actor 
and  spectator,  a  show  and  the  spectator  for  whom 
the  show  is.  For  all  these  passing,  re-passing,  and 
gliding  appearances,  so  felicitously  described  by- 
Hume,  had  an  existence  only  for  himself;  and, 
while  other  people  may  have  similar  experiences, 
these  particular  experiences  were  for  him  alone. 
And  he  was  something  more  than  the  bundle  of 
perceptions,  he  was  the  self  for  whom  the  percep- 
tions were.  We  do  not  require  here  to  discuss  the 
relation  of  body  and  mind  (see  BODY  AND  MIND, 
Brain  and  Mind,  Mind),  or  of  physiology  and 
psychology.  Nor  can  we  dwell  on  the  attempts 
to  deduce  the  unity  of  consciousness  from  the  unity 
of  the  nervous  system.  There  is  a  parallelism  be- 
tween the  growth  of  mind  and  the  growth  of  an 
organized  nervous  system.  Physiology  has  often 
given  useful  hints  to  psychology.  There  are  paral- 
lels between  the  evolution  of  the  organism  and  the 


evolution  of  consciousness.  But,  while  that  is  so, 
the  fact  of  consciousness  remains  without  parallel, 
and  its  nature  must  only  be  described  and  not  ex- 
plained. It  is  interesting,  for  example,  to  follow 
Herbert  Spencer  through  his  works  setting  forth 
the  Synthetic  Philosophy,  from  the  First  Prin- 
ciples, through  Biology  and  Psychology  to  Socio- 
logy and  Ethics.  It  is  of  special  interest  to  mark 
the  description  of  the  origin  and  growth  of  these, 
and  then  to  notice  how  psychology  enters  in.  After 
he  has  described  the  evolution  of  the  nervous  sys- 
tem, he  seeks  to  correlate  the  stages  of  evolution 
with  a  corresponding  mental  growth.  How  about 
consciousness  ?    Whence  did  it  come  ? 

'  In  its  higher  forms,  instinct  is  probably  accompanied  by  a 
rudimentary  consciousness.  There  cannot  be  co-ordination  of 
many  stimuli  without  some  ganglion  through  which  they  are 
all  brought  into  relation.  In  the  process  of  bringing  them  into 
relation,  this  ganglion  must  be  subject  to  the  influence  of  each — 
must  undergo  many  changes.  And  the  quick  succession  of 
changes  in  a  ganglion,  implying,  as  it  does,  perpetual  experiences 
of  differences  and  likenesses,  constitutes  the  raw  material  of 
consciousness.  The  implication  is  that,  as  fast  as  instinct  is 
developed,  some  kind  of  consciousness  becomes  nascent '  {Psy- 
chology, Lond.  1885,  sect.  195). 

So  far  we  obtain  only  a  raw  material  of  con- 
sciousness and  some  kind  of  nascent  consciousness. 
Another  passage  from  the  Psychology  seems  to  show 
how  a  consciousness  must  arise  : 

'  Separate  impressions  are  received  by  the  senses — by  different 
parts  of  the  body.  If  they  go  no  further  than  the  places  at  which 
they  are  received,  they  are  useless.  Or,  if  only  some  of  them 
are  brought  into  relation  with  one  another,  they  are  useless. 
That  an  effectual  adjustment  may  be  made,  they  must  be  all 
brought  into  relation  with  one  another.  But  this  implies  vme 
centre  of  communication  common  to  them  all,  through  which 
they  severally  pass ;  and  as  they  cannot  pass  through  it  simul- 
taneously, they  must  pass  through  it  in  succession.  So  that, 
as  the  external  phenomena  responded  to  become  greater  in 
number  and  more  complicated  in  kind,  the  variety  and  rapidity 
of  the  changes  to  which  this  common  centre  of  communication 
is  subject  must  increase — there  must  result  an  unbroken  series 
of  these  changes,  there  must  arise  a  consciousness.  Hence  the 
progress  of  the  correspondence  between  the  organism  and  its 
environment  necessitates  a  gradual  reduction  of  the  sensorial 
changes  to  a  succession ;  and  by  so  doing  evolves  a  distinct 
consciousness—a  consciousness  that  becomes  higher  as  the  suc- 
cession becomes  more  rapid  and  the  correspondence  more  com- 
plete '  (sect.  179). 

It  is  interesting  to  note  how,  in  the  description 
of  the  process,  Spencer  is  constrained  to  assume, 
as  in  existence,  the  consciousness  whose  genesis 
he  is  seeking  to  describe.  He  speaks  of  '  per- 
petual experiences  of  differences  and  likenesses' 
in  the  ganglion  through  which  the  numerous 
stimuli  are  co-ordinated.  If  these  exist,  then 
we  submit  that  the  work  supposed  to  be  effected 
by  consciousness  is  already  being  done.  If  these 
stimuli  can  be  co-ordinated  by  a  ganglion,  what  is 
the  need  of  a  consciousness  to  do  a  work  already 
sufficiently  provided  for?  As  we  read  on,  the 
wonder  increases.  The  impressions  received  by 
the  senses  must  be  adjusted,  and  the  adjustment  is 
made  through  a  centre  of  communication  through 
which  they  pass  in  succession.  But  this  centre, 
through  which  the  impressions  pass  in  succession, 
does  a  business  which  is  ever  on  the  increase,  and, 
in  order  that  its  work  may  be  done,  a  consciousness 
must  arise.  Why?  As  a  matter  of  fact,  a  con- 
sciousness has  arisen — something  which  is  aware  of 
the  various  changes  within  itself,  which  also  has  a 
certain  powerof  intervention.  But  in  the  description 
of  the  whole  process  no  place  is  left  at  which  a  con- 
sciousness can  enter  in.  Either  one  must  hold  that 
consciousness  has  been  implicitly  present  from  the 
beginning,  or  it  can  never  appear  on  the  terms 
assigned  to  its  entrance  by  Spencer. 

That  there  is  a  relation  between  consciousness 
and  the  nervous  states  of  the  organism  is  unques- 
tionable. But  the  origin  and  character  of  that  re- 
lationship are  not  sufficiently  described  by  Spencer. 
From  the  above  account  of  the  origin  of  conscious- 
ness, it  appears  as  altogether  a  superfluous  addition 
to  a  nervous  system.  The  work  of  co-ordination 
has  been  already  accomplished,  and  has,  indeed, 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


51 


automatically  proceeded  until  the  stimuli  have 
learned  how  to  pass  through  a  centre,  and  to  pass 
in  orderly  procession.  Yet,  on  the  whole,  consci- 
ousness is  greatly  needed  in  the  system  of  Spencer. 
For  'all  mental  action  whatever,'  we  are  told  a 
little  further  on,  '  is  definable  as  the  continuous 
differentiation  and  integration  of  states  of  con- 
sciousness' (op.  cit.  ii.  301).  Are  the  states  of 
consciousness  determined  by  the  states  of  the 
organism  ?  Are  they  part  of  the  integration  and 
differentiation  of  matter  and  motion  ?  Or  is  there 
only  a  parallelism  between  the  two?  Is  psycho- 
physical parallelism  the  ultimate  word  on  the 
relationship  between  the  two?  Or  is  the  con- 
sciousness simply  an  epiphenomenon,  a  mere  ac- 
companiment, or,  in  the  metaphor  of  Huxley,  is 
it  simply  the  ticking  of  the  clock  which  is  mistaken 
for  its  function  ? 

Leaving  on  one  side  the  questions  of  the  origin 
of  consciousness  as  unanswerable,  and  the  further 
questions  of  the  relations  of  mind  and  body  as  too 
large  for  our  proper  theme,  let  us  ask,  What  is 
really  meant  by  conscious  life,  or,  in  other  words, 
by  consciousness  ?  As  we  reflect  on  what  happens 
when  we  attend  to  the  processes  of  our  inner  life, 
we  note  three  main  characteristics  :  (1)  There  is 
the  fact  of  change ;  without  change,  or  without 
the  entrance  of  a  new  fact  into  consciousness,  there 
is  no  consciousness.  Continued  sameness  would 
mean  unconsciousness.  (2)  There  is  the  preservation 
or  reproduction  of  previously  given  elements,  with 
some  connexion  between  elements  formerly  given 
and  those  that  are  new.  (3)  There  is  the  inward 
unity  of  recognition.  In  the  stream  of  the  inner 
life  there  are  always  present  those  three  factors. 
Thus  synthesis  is  the  fundamental  fact  of  all  con- 
sciousness. But  the  synthetic  activity  of  conscious- 
ness has  always  a  certain  end  in  view.  This  will 
become  abundantly  clear  as  we  look  at  the  mental 
attitude  towards  an  object.  This  attitude  is  three- 
fold, corresponding  to  the  three  aspects  of  mental 
activity.  Consciousness  is  always  occupied  with 
some  object.  It  is  not  needful  to  define  the  object 
for  our  present  purpose.  But,  be  it  what  it  may, 
(1)  it  is  an  object  of  knowledge  ;  we  seem  to  know 
it,  or  to  know  something  about  it.  (2)  It  brings 
to  us  some  pleasure  or  pain  ;  it  affects  us  in  some 
way.  (3)  We  tend  to  alter  it,  transform  it,  take 
possession  of  it,  and  master  it.  We  desire  to  have 
a  clearer  view  of  its  character,  or  to  make  it  serve 
our  purpose.  An  object  is  thus  related  to  us  in 
three  ways ;  and  these  three  are  the  fundamental 
aspects  of  conscious  activity — knowing,  feeling,  and 
striving,  which  are  three  aspects  of  the  same  mental 
state,  not  to  be  separated  from  each  other,  not  to 
be  thought  of  as  successive  in  time,  but  elements 
of  one  concrete  experience.  From  any  of  these 
points  of  view  we  arrive  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
unity  of  the  subject,  which  recognizes  all  these 
attitudes  as  its  own.  Cognition,  recognition,  or 
any  other  name  descriptive  of  the  cognitive  atti- 
tude, presupposes  the  unity  of  the  subject.  The 
feeling  of  pleasure  in  activity,  or  of  pain  in  the 
interruption  of  the  activity,  presupposes  a  central 
point  into  relation  with  which  the  changing  ele- 
ments of  consciousness  are  brought.  Similarly, 
it  may  be  shown  that  all  conative  activity  presup- 
poses the  unity  of  the  subject,  for  it  is  the  attempt 
to  bring  the  object  into  harmonious  relations  with 
the  other  objects  formerly  or  presently  held  to- 
gether in  our  experience. 

Thus  from  many  points  of  view,  as  we  look  at 
the  living,  moving,  thinking,  willing,  concrete  being, 
we  are  presented  with  the  fact  of  a  unitary  con- 
sciousness, of  a  real  self,  capable  of  a  real  experi- 
ence. Yet  it  has  been  possible  for  systems  to  be 
constructed,  theories  of  knowledge  to  be  promul- 
gated, psychological  theories  to  be  set  forth,  and 


views  to  be  argued,  from  which  personalism  has 
been  excluded,  and  all  reference  to  self  and  the 
unity  of  the  self  avoided.  It  is  worth  while  to  see 
how  this  has  been  possible.  The  possibility  of  it 
has  not  been  without  advantage  in  the  interests  of 
science.  What  does  science  desire  to  accomplish  ? 
A  man  of  science  does  not  know  anything,  does 
not  desire  to  know  anything,  save  the  objects  in 
their  causal  relation  to  one  another.  He  seeks  to 
look  at  things  as  parts  of  Nature,  strives  to  con- 
struct and  to  model  them  until  he  has  arranged 
them  in  their  sequence  as  causes  and  effects.  He 
strives  to  find  the  linkages,  and,  when  he  has 
linked  all  things  together  in  a  scheme  which  seems 
to  include  the  whole,  he  is  satisfied  with  his  work. 
But,  in  order  to  fulfil  this  purpose,  he  has  to  make 
himself  a  martyr  to  science.  He  is  no  longer  a  man 
with  his  will  and  his  purpose,  a  living,  breathing 
man  with  a  life  of  his  own  ;  he  has  become  what 
we  may  call  an  abstract  spectator,  a  consciousness 
which  simply  becomes  aware  of  the  ongoings  and 
the  linkages  of  the  energies  of  the  universe.  Such 
a  personality  is  not  a  real  man.  The  standpoint  of 
the  spectator  involves  certain  abstractions.  He 
has  put  aside  all  interests,  all  living  attitudes,  and 
all  the  varied  manifoldness  of  his  concrete  life,  and 
has  converted  himself  into  a  mere  onlooker,  whose 
whole  aim  is  to  understand  the  ways  in  which 
things  are  linked  together.  It  is  so  far  an  arti- 
ficial attitude,  but  in  this  abstraction  from  all  that 
relates  to  personal  will  and  purpose  lies  the  enor- 
mous strength  of  the  scientific  attitude.  It  enables 
the  onlooker  to  regard  the  processes  of  the  world 
as  the  outcome  of  laws,  to  bring  them  into  relations, 
to  master  them,  and  harness  them  to  the  fulfilment 
of  his  purposes.  In  fact,  the  scientific  spectator 
who  desires  simply  to  know  and  to  master  the 
system  of  the  world,  abstracts  altogether  from  his 
own  life-interests,  even  from  his  own  individuality, 
becomes  merely  a  spectator  of  processes  which  are 
not  for  this  individual  or  for  that,  but  the  same  for 
every  one.  Further,  not  only  does  he  abstract  from 
all  personal  interests  and  from  all  individual  pro- 
clivities, he  finally  comes  to  abstract  from  the 
activity  of  the  knowing  subject  itself,  and  to  look 
at  the  world  as  a  system  complete  in  itself,  and 
independent  of  any  subject.  This  mere  abstract 
knower,  who  has  detached  himself  from  every 
personal  characteristic,  attitude,  and  interest, 
who  simply  watches  the  processes  of  Nature  and 
registers  them,  is  a  useful  creature  for  many  pur- 
poses, but  he  can  scarcely  be  taken  as  a  complete 
and  adequate  representative  of  what  consciousness, 
or  self-consciousness  in  the  fullness  of  its  concrete 
being,  means. 

Science  must  proceed  after  the  fashion  described, 
if  it  is  to  do  its  work.  But  we  ought  to  remind 
ourselves  of  the  limitations  prescribed  by  this  atti- 
tude. In  particular,  we  are  not  to  put  this  abstract 
spe.ctator,  who  has  reduced  himself  to  the  stature 
of  a  mere  spectator,  in  the  place  of  the  living  man. 
The  synthetic  unity  of  apperception,  to  use  Kant's 
phrase,  may  be  all  that  is  required  for  the  purposes 
of  explaining  and  describing  the  world,  but  this 
abstract  attitude  of  the  subject  is  not  sufficient 
when  we  seek  to  speak  of  consciousness  or  of  self- 
consciousness  as  it  is  in  living  experience.  In  the 
science  of  psychology  we  have  also  to  assume  this 
abstract  attitude.  Before  the  psychologist  are  the 
perceptions  and  thoughts,  the  feelings  and  emo- 
tions, the  judgments  and  volitions,  which  he  is  to 
study  and  describe.  He  is  well  aware  that  the 
only  key  to  the  understanding  of  them  lies  within 
himself.  No  one  save  himself  is  aware  of  these 
conscious  states,  so  far  as  they  are  his  own.  They 
are  for  him  part  of  his  own  individual  experience, 
and  no  one  else  has  these  particular  experiences. 
But  he  has  to  take  them  as  typical,  and  the  subject 


62 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


which  has  the  experience  becomes  an  abstract  de- 
tached subject,  a  spectator  who  stands  outside  of 
the  skull  of  everybody,  and  is  supposed  to  have  the 
manifold  life  of  every  conscious  subject  open  to  his 
gaze.  It  is  necessary  to  make  these  abstractions  ; 
to  make  them  is  indispensable  for  the  solution  of 
particular  problems,  and  helps  us  to  attain  to  that 
mastery  of  the  world  which  is  essential  for  the 
fulfilment  of  the  tasks  of  life.  It  is  not  needful  to 
quarrel  with  the  abstract  attitude  of  every  science, 
or  to  accuse  it  of  wilful  neglect  of  many  elements 
in  conscious  life ;  our  quarrel  arises  only  when  these 
special  scientific  aspects  are  set  forth  as  complete 
and  exhaustive  accounts  of  the  world. 

To  deal  rightly  with  the  question  of  conscious- 
ness which  we  have  in  hand,  we  must  not  be 
content  to  regard  it  as  it  appears  in  abstract 
science — merely  as  that  which  is  aware  of  the 
processes  of  the  world's  ongoing,  or  merely  as  the 
abstract  subject  which  meets  us  in  psychological 
treatises.  To  neglect  the  subject  and  all  its  indi- 
vidual experiences,  hopes,  fears,  and  wishes,  is  quite 
right  on  the  part  of  the  physicist,  the  chemist,  and 
the  naturalist;  and  so  to  exclude  the  individual, 
and  to  declare  that  biography  forms  no  part  of 
psychology,  is  quite  legitimate  when  the  psycho- 
logist is  seeking  to  understand  the  process  of 
consciousness  in  general.  But  if  the  aim  is  to 
understand  the  fullness,  the  manifoldness,  the 
complexity,  as  well  as  the  unity,  of  mental  life, 
the  method  is  inadequate.  The  psychologist  looks 
at  the  inner  life  as  mere  contents  of  consciousness. 
This  consciousness  only  becomes  aware  of  what  is 
going  on,  and  from  this  point  of  view  it  is  nothing 
more.  All  contents  are  of  equal  value,  or,  rather, 
they  are  of  value  simply  because  they  have  a  place 
in  the  stream  of  consciousness.  But  this  view  of 
consciousness  is  of  value  only  to  the  psychologist, 
whose  business  is  to  describe  and  explain  the  con- 
tents of  consciousness,  and  to  organize  them  into  a 
system.  When  we  look  away  from  the  peculiar 
business  of  psychology,  and  speak  of  men  in  their 
habit  as  they  live,  we  are  aware  of  a  great  deal  of 
which  psychology  takes  no  notice.  There  is  the 
life  which  the  poet  sees,  expresses,  and  interprets ; 
there  is  the  life  of  which  the  historian  writes,  which 
he  seeks  to  interpret  and  to  understand ;  there  is 
the  world  of  political,  social,  moral,  and  religious 
interests  ;  and  all  of  us  are  in  that  world — each  a 
separate  personality,  characterized  for  selves  and 
others  as  personalities,  with  the  power  of  looking 
before  and  after,  of  foreseeing  ends,  and  adopting 
means  to  realize  them,  of  forming  ideals,  and  of 
living  up  to  them.  Again,  in  every  act  of  ours,  in 
every  feeling,  every  volition,  and  every  thought, 
we  are  conscious  of  a  self  which  expresses  itself  in 
aims  and  meanings.  We  see  ourselves  girt  about 
with  duties,  laden  with  responsibilities,  and  we  feel 
that  we  have  a  meaning  in  ourselves,  and  a  place 
in  the  world. 

We  are  not  called  on  to  explain  here  the  different 
meanings  which  the  self  has  for  the  psychologist, 
and  for  all  others,  such  as  the  poet,  the  historian, 
the  jurist,  the  artist.  In  the  works  of  all  these  we 
are  in  a  field  of  personal  will  and  personal  interest ; 
in  the  company  of  the  psychologist  we  are  merely 
in  the  presence  of  a  consciousness  which  is  reduced 
to  the  aspect  of  being  only  aware  of  its  contents, 
and  has  no  special  interest  in,  or  preference  for,  any 
of  these  contents.  Such  a  potentiality  we  may 
leave  on  one  side  as  we  proceed  to  deal  with  con- 
sciousness. What  is  it?  Well,  it  is  not  to  be 
identified  with  the  sum  of  all  its  states,  or  with 
the  sum  of  all  its  real  or  consistent  presentations. 
It  is  not  the  stream  of  changes  which  goes  on  within 
it,  or  merely  the  awareness  of  the  contents  of  that 
stream.  It  is  not  knowing,  or -willing,  or  feeling, 
for  outside  of  it  there  is  no  feeling,  no  willing,  no 


knowing.  Consciousness  is  the  condition  of  all 
mental  life ;  without  consciousness  there  is  no 
mental  life.  A  psychical  fact  is  simply  a  fact  in 
consciousness,  and  it  is  nothing  else.  Unconscious 
knowing  is  a  phrase  to  which  we  can  attach  no 
meaning.  Just  as  little  can  we  interpret  a  willing 
of  which  we  have  no  consciousness. 

Consciousness,  therefore,  is  undefinable.  Like 
all  ultimates,  we  must  simply  accept  it  as  the  con  • 
dition  of  the  explanation  of  all  else,  itself  remaining 
unexplained.  It  may  not  be  identified  with  the 
sum  of  its  states,  any  more  than  we  can  identify 
a  real  whole  with  the  sum  of  its  parts.  For,  after 
we  have  summed  up  the  parts,  there  remains  un- 
accounted for  the  wholeness  of  the  whole.  A 
machine  is  not  the  sum  of  its  parts,  and  an  organ- 
ism is  something  more  than  the  sum  of  its  structures 
and  functions.  This  statement,  true  of  every  whole, 
is  uniquely  true  of  the  whole  of  consciousness.  It 
is  not  a  faculty  in  addition  to  other  faculties,  as 
memory  is  different,  say,  from  imagination ;  it  is 
implied  in  all  the  faculties  of  the  mind.  It  is  an 
essential  property  of  every  process  that  goes  on 
within  the  mind.  The  simplest  view  is  that  which 
regards  consciousness  as  the  sphere  in  which  im- 
mediate experience  goes  on.  We  are  baffled  by  the 
very  simplicity  of  the  immediate  operation  of  con- 
sciousness. We  are  baffled  also  by  the  fact  that 
out  of  this  simplicity  are  evolved  all  the  results 
of  the  activity  of  consciousness  in  relation  to  the 
world  and  to  self.  Sciences,  poems,  histories,  all 
the  outcome  of  human  endeavour,  are  due  to  the 
activity  of  consciousness.  But  what  we  are  con- 
scious of  at  any  given  moment  is  simply  the 
mental  states,  activities,  and  passivities,  and  the 
presentations  with  which  they  work.  What  we 
insist  on  here  is  that  consciousness  cannot  be  de- 
duced from  anything  else. 

Certainly  it  cannot  be  deduced  from  the  play  of 
unconscious  forces,  or  from  the  elaboration  oi  cor- 
respondences between  the  growth  of  consciousness 
and  the  evolution  of  a  nervous  system.  It  may  be 
well  to  dwell  for  a  little  on  the  attempts  made  to 
deduce  consciousness  from  the  play  of  unconscious 
forces.  'Latent  mental  modifications,'  'uncon- 
scious cerebrations,'  are  among  the  phrases  used 
in  this  connexion.  W.  James,  in  discussing  the 
'  mind-stuff'  theory,  thus  deals  with  the  distinction 
between  the  unconscious  and  the  conscious  being 
of  the  mental  state  : 

'  It  is  the  sovereign  means  for  believing  what  one  likes  in 
psychology,  and  of  turning  what  might  become  a  science  into 
a  tumbling-ground  for  whimsies.  It  has  numerous  champions, 
and  elaborate  reasons  to  give  for  itself.  We  must  therefore 
accord  it  due  consideration '  (Principles  of  Psychology  t  i.  163  f . ). 

In  answer  to  the  question,  Do  unconscious  mental 
states  exist  ?,  James  enumerates  no  fewer  than  ten 
proofs,— an  almost  exhaustive  list, — submits  them 
to  a  drastic  criticism,  and  returns  the  verdict,  '  Not 
proven.'     Of  one  proof  he  says  : 

'  None  of  these  facts,  then,  appealed  to  so  confidently  in  proof 
of  the  existence  of  ideas  in  an  unconscious  state,  prove  anything 
of  the  sort.  They  prove  either  that  conscious  ideas  were 
present  which  the  next  instant  were  forgotten  ;  or  they  prove 
that  certain  results,  similar  to  results  of  reasoning,  may  be 
wrought  out  by  rapid  brain-processes  to  which  no  ideation 
seems  attached'  (ib.  170).  The  tenth  proof  may  be  quoted  more 
fully  :  'There  is  a  great  class  of  experiences  in  our  mental  life 
which  ma}7  be  described  as  discoveries  that  a  subjective  condi- 
tion which  we  have  been  having  is  really  something  different 
from  what  we  had  supposed.  We  suddenly  find  ourselves  bored 
by  a  thing  which  we  thought  we  were  enjoying  well  enough  ;  or 
in  love  with  a  person  whom  we  imagined  we  only  liked.  Or  else 
we  deliberately  analyze  our  motives,  and  find  that  at  bottom 
they  contain  jealousies  and  cupidities  which  we  little  suspected 
to  be  there.  Our  feelings  towards  people  are  perfect  wells  of 
motivation,  unconscious  of  itself,  which  introspection  brings  to 
light.  And  our  sensations  likewise  :  we  constantly  discover  new 
elements  in  sensations  which  we  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
receiving  all  our  days,  elements,  too,  which  have  been  there 
from  the  first,  since  otherwise  we  should  have  been  unable  to 
distinguish  the  sensations  containing  them  from  others  nearly 
allied.  The  elements  must  exist,  for  we  use  them  to  discriminate 
by ;  but  they  must  exist  in  an  unconscious  state,  since  we  so 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


63 


completely  fail  to  single  them  out.  The  booka  of  the  analytic 
Bchool  of  psychology  abound  in  examples  of  the  kind.  Who 
knows  the  countless  associations  that  mingle  with  his  each  and 
every  thought?  Who  can  pick  apart  all  the  nameless  feelings 
that  stream  in  at  every  moment  from  his  various  internal  organs, 
muscles,  heart,  elands,  lungs,  etc.,  and  compose  in  their  totality 
his  sense  of  bodily  life?  Who  is  aware  of  the  part  played  by 
feelings  of  innervation  and  suggestions  of  possible  muscular 
exertion  in  all  his  judgments  of  distance,  shape,  and  size? 
Consider,  too,  the  difference  between  a  sensation  which  we 
simply  have  and  one  which  we  attend  to.  Attention  gives 
results  that  seem  like  fresh  creations ;  and  yet  the  feelings  and 
elements  of  feeling  which  it  reveals  must  have  been  already 
there— in  an  unconscious  state '  (ib.  170  f.). 

Thus  far  the  statement  of  the  proof  of  uncon- 
scious mental  states  is  real  and  existent.  Of  this 
argument,  or  proof,  so  fully  stated,  James  says : 

"These  reasonings  are  one  tissue  of  confusion.  Two  states  of 
mind  which  refer  to  the  same  external  reality  .  .  .  are  described 
as  the  same  state  of  mind  or  "idea,"  published,  as  it  were,  in  two 
editions ;  and  then,  whatever  qualities  of  the  second  edition  are 
found  openly  lacking  in  the  first  are  explained  as  having  really 
been  there,  only  in  an  "  unconscious  "  way.  It  would  be  difficult 
to  believe  that  intelligent  men  could  be  guilty  of  so  patent  a 
fallacy,  were  not  the  history  of  psychology  there  to  give  the 
proof.  The  psychological  stock-in-trade  of  some  authors  is  the 
belief  that  two  thoughts  about  one  thing  are  virtually  the  same 
thought,  and  that  this  same  thought  may  in  subsequent  re- 
flexions become  more  and  more  conscious  of  what  it  really  was 
all  along  from  the  first.  But,  once  make  the  distinction  between 
Bimply  having  an  idea  at  the  moment  of  its  presence,  and  sub- 
sequently knowing  all  sorts  of  things  about  it ;  make,  moreover, 
that  between  a  state  of  mind  itself,  taken  as  a  subjective  fact, 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  objective  thing  it  knows,  on  the  other, 
and  one  has  no  difficulty  in  escaping  from  the  labyrinth '  (p.  172). 

He  deals  with  the  latter  distinction  first,  and 
thus  concludes : 

1  There  is  only  one  *(  phase  "  in  which  an  idea  can  be,  and  that 
is  a  fully  conscious  condition.  If  it  is  not  in  that  condition, 
then  it  is  not  at  all '  (p.  173). 

His  language  in  dealing  with  the  distinction 
between  simply  having  an  idea  and  knowing  all 
sorts  of  things  about  it  we  quote  fully,  as  it  is  of 
the  highest  importance  in  view  of  what  we  must 
discuss  presently : 

'  The  truth  is  here  even  simpler  to  unravel.  When  I  decide 
that  I  have,  without  knowing  it,  been  for  several  weeks  in  love, 
I  am  simply  giving  a  name  to  a  state  which  previously  /  have 
not  named,  but  which  was  fully  conscious ;  which  had  no  residual 
mode  of  being,  except  the  manner  in  which  it  was  conscious  ; 
and  which,  though  it  was  a  feeling  towards  the  same  person  for 
whom  I  now  have  a  much  more  inflamed  feeling,  and  though  it 
continuously  led  into  the  latter,  and  is  similar  enough  to  be 
called  by  the  same  name,  is  yet  in  no  sense  identical  with  the 
latter,  and  least  of  all  in  an  "  unconscious"  way.  Again,  the 
feelings  from  our  viscera  and  other  dimly-felt  organs,  the  feelings 
of  innervation  (if  such  there  be),  and  those  of  muscular  exertion 
which,  in  our  spatial  judgments,  are  supposed  unconsciously  to 
determine  what  we  shall  perceive,  are  just  exactly  what  we  feel 
them,  perfectly  determinate  conscious  states,  not  vague  editions 
of  other  conscious  states.  They  may  be  faint  and  weak  ;  they 
may  be  very  vague  cognizers  of  the  same  realities  which  other 
conscious  states  cognize  and  name  exactly ;  they  may  be  uncon- 
scious of  much  in  the  reality  which  the  other  states  are  conscious 
of.  But  that  does  not  make  them,  in  themselves,  a  whit  dim  or 
vague  or  unconscious.  They  are  eternally  as  they  feel  when 
they  exist,  and  can,  neither  actually  nor  potentially,  be  identified 
with  anything  else  than  their  own  faint  selves.  A  faint  feeling 
may  be  looked  back  upon  and  classified  and  understood  in 
its  relations  to  what  went  before  or  after  it  in  the  stream  of 
thought.  But  it,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  later  Btate  of  mind 
which  knows  all  these  things  about  it,  on  the  other,  are  surely 
not  two  conditions,  one  conscious  and  the  other  "  unconscious," 
of  the  same  identical  psychic  fact '  (p.  174). 

Apart  from  the  somewhat  curious  phraseology, 
which  would  seem  to  imply  that  a  state  is  conscious 
of  its  own  object — which  is  rather  startling— the 
argument  seems  conclusive.  Yet  it  may  be  well 
to  note  that  a  reference  to  the  conscious  subject, 
when  we  speak  of  a  conscious  state,  is  always  in 
order.  But  it  is  misleading  to  speak  of  conscious 
States  cognizing  faintly  or  fully,  when  we  mean 
tnat  the  subject  cognizes  through  these  states  more 
or  less  fully.  But,  as  we  follow  James  through 
the  subsequent  evolution  of  his  thought,  we  feel 
that  he  seems  to  have  departed  from  the  conclusion 
reached  in  the  passages  we  have  quoted.  At  all 
events,  he  writes  as  follows  : 

'  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  most  important  step  forward 
that  has  occurred  in  psychology  since  I  have  been  a  student  of 
that  science  is  the  discovery,  first  made  in  1886,  that,  in  certain 
Bubjects  at  least,  there  is  not  only  the  consciousness  of  the 
ordinary  field,  with  its  usual  centre  and  margin,  but  an  addition 
thereto  in  the  shape  of  a  set  of  memories,  thoughts,  and  feelings. 


which  are  extra-marginal  and  outside  of  the  primary  conscious- 
ness altogether,  but  yet  must  be  classed  as  conscious  facts  ol 
some  sort,  able  to  reveal  their  presence  by  unmistakable  signs. 
I  call  this  the  most  important  step  forward,  because,  unlike  the 
other  advances  which  psychology  has  made,  this  discovery  has 
revealed  to  ue  an  entirely  unsuspected  peculiarity  in  the  consti- 
tution of  human  nature'  (Varieties  of  Religious  Experience, 
p.  233).  Again:  'The  sub-conscious  self  is  nowadays  a  well- 
accredited  psychological  entity ;  and  I  believe  that  in  it  we 
have  exactly  the  mediating  term  required.  Apart  from  all 
religious  considerations,  there  is  actually  and  literally  more  life 
in  our  total  soul  than  we  are  at  any  time  aware  of.  The  explora- 
tion of  the  trans-marginal  field  has  hardly  jret  been  seriously 
undertaken  ;  but  what  Mr.  Myers  said  in  1892  in  his  essay  on  the 
Subliminal  Consciousness  is  as  true  as  when  it  was  first  written : 
"  Each  of  us  is  in  reality  an  abiding  psychical  entity  far  more 
extensive  than  he  knows — an  individuality  which  can  never 
express  itself  completely  through  any  corporeal  manifestation. 
The  Self  manifests  through  the  organism ;  but  there  is  always 
some  part  of  the  Self  unmanifested,  and  always,  as  it  seems, 
some  power  of  organic  expression  in  abeyance  or  reserve."  Much 
of  the  content  of  this  larger  background  against  which  our  con- 
scious being  stands  out  in  relief  is  insignificant.  Imperfect 
memories,  silly  jingles,  inhibitive  timidities,  "  dissolutive " 
phenomena  of  various  Borts,  as  Myers  calls  them,  enter  into 
it  for  a  large  part.  But  in  it  many  of  the  performances  of 
genius  seem  also  to  have  their  origin'  (p.  611  f.). 

The  sub-conscious  self  can,  according  to  Sanday, 
do  even  more  wonderful  things  than  these  : 

'  Besides  the  upper  region  of  consciousness,  there  is  a  lower 
region  into  which  the  conscious  mind  cannot  enter.  It  cannot 
enter,  and  yet  it  possesses  a  strange  magnetic  power  by  which 
the  contents  of  the  lower  region  are,  as  it  were,  drawn  upwards 
and  brought  within  the  range  of  its  cognition.  This  lower  region 
is  a  storehouse  of  experiences  of  the  moBt  varied  kinds ;  in  fact, 
all  the  experiences  that  make  up  human  life.'  Having  described 
these  experiences,  the  author  goes  on :  '  AU  these  things  are 
latent.  The  door  of  that  treasure-house,  which  is  also  a  work- 
shop, is  locked,  bo  far  as  the  conscious  personality  is  concerned. 
For  it  there  is  no  "  harrowing  of  hell,"  no  triumphant  descent 
into  the  nether  world,  followed  by  a  release  and  return  of 
captives  on  any  large  scale.  The  door  is  locked  against  any  such 
violent  irruption.  And  yet,  in  some  strange  way,  there  seem 
to  be  open  chinks  and  crevices  through  which  there  is  a  constant 
coming  and  going,  denizens  or  manufactured  products  of  the 
lower  world  returning  to  the  upper  air  of  consciousness,  and 
once  more  entering  into  the  train  and  sequence  of  what  we  call 
active  life,  though,  indeed,  the  invisible  processes  of  this  life  are 
just  as  active  as  the  visible.  It  appears  to  be  the  function  of  the 
sub-consciouB  and  unconscious  states  to  feed  the  conscious. 
There  is  that  continual  movement  from  below  upwards  of 
which  I  have  been  speaking.  A  never-ending  train  ol  images, 
memories,  and  ideas  keeps  emerging  into  the  light.  But  only 
in  part  are  they  subject  to  the  will  and  conscious  reason.  Only 
in  part  do  they  come  at  call.  And  only  in  part  do  they  come  in 
fully  organized  form.  .  .  .  The  wonderful  thing  is  that,  while 
the  unconscious  and  sub-conscious  processes  are  (generally 
speaking)  similar  in  kind  to  the  conscious,  they  surpass  them  in 
degree.  They  are  subtler,  intenser,  further-reaching,  more 
penetrating.  It  is  something  more  than  a  mere  metaphor  when 
we  describe  the  sub-  and  unconscious  states  as  more  '  *  profound  "  * 
(Christologies,  Ancient  and  Modern,  Oxf.  1910,  pp.  142-145). 

The  wonderful  passage  just  quoted  prompts  one 
to  ask  a  number  of  questions.  We  are  told  that 
the  door  of  the  treasure-house  is  locked ;  yet  Sanday 
seems  to  have  obtained  the  key,  for  he  describes  the 
treasures  which  are  there,  and  the  work  which  is 
done  there,  and  is  able  to  compare  it  with  the  work 
done  in  the  upper  air.  He  is  able  also  to  declare 
that  the  processes  down  below  are  subtler,  intenser, 
further-reaching,  more  penetrating.  How  has  he 
come  to  know  all  this?  If  it  be  so,  what  is  the 
use  of  a  consciousness  if  the  sub-conscious  and  the 
unconscious  can  do  so  much  better  work,  and  at  so 
much  less  cost  ?  As  for  ourselves,  we  are  inclined 
to  say  of  these  fancies  that  they  are  'whimsies5 — 
the  word  Professor  James  himself  employed  when 
dealing  with  the  question  of  the  existence  of  uncon- 
scious mental  states.  James  has  seemingly  changed 
his  view  on  the  matter,  and  we  submit  that  he  was 
bound  to  answer  his  own  arguments  as  these  are 
set  forth  in  his  Principles  of  Psychology.  These 
seem  to  us  as  cogent  as  they  were  before  what 
he  calls  the  discovery  in  18S6.  When  he  declares 
that  ( the  sub-conscious  self  is  nowadays  a  well- 
accredited  psychological  entity,'  we  are  surely  en- 
titled to  ask  what  meaning  he  attaches  to  the  word 
'self '  in  this  connexion.  In  the  interesting  chapter 
on  the  consciousness  of  self  in  the  Principles  of 
Psychology,  he  speaks  of  the  constituents  of  the  self 
as  the  material  self,  the  social  self,  the  spiritual 


64 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


self,  and  the  pure  ego.  In  the  course  of  the  discus- 
sion he  says  that  the  suhstantialist  view  of  the  soul 
■is  at  aU  events  needless  for  expressing  the  actual  subjective 
phenomena  of  consciousness  as  they  appear.  We  have  formu- 
lated them  all  without  its  aid,  by  the  supposition  of  a  stream  of 
thoughts,  each  substantially  different  from  the  rest,  but  cog- 
nitive of  the  rest  and  "  appropriative  "  of  each  other's  content. 
At  least,  if  I  have  not  already  succeeded  in  making  this  plausible 
to  the  reader,  I  am  hopeless  of  convincing  him  by  anything  I 
could  add  now.  The  unity,  the  identity,  the  individuality, 
and  the  immateriality  that  appear  in  the  psychic  life  are  thus 
accounted  for  as  phenomenal  and  temporal  facts  exclusively, 
and  with  no  need  of  reference  to  any  more  simple  or  substantial 
agent  than  the  present  Thought  or  "section"  of  the  stream' 
(op.  cit.  i.  344). 

It  is  true  that  this  passage  relates  only  to  the 
active  subjective  phenomena  of  consciousness  as 
they  appear.  Are  we  to  have  one  method  and  one 
form  of  process  as  applied  to  the  phenomena  of 
consciousness,  and  another  when  we  apply  them 
to  the  sub-conscious  and  the  unconscious  ?  Under 
what  heading  are  we  to  place  the  entity  called 
'the  sub-conscious  self?  Is  it  material,  social, 
spiritual  ?  Or  is  it  the  pure  ego  ?  Yet  the  sub- 
conscious self  is  'a  well-accredited  psychological 
entity.'  Are  we  to  lay  stress  on  the  adjective 
'psychological,'  or  on  the  substantive  'entity'? 
We  should  like  to  know  a  little  more  regarding 
the  sub-conscious  self,  but  it  seems  that  it  is  really 
outside  the  scope  of  psychological  investigation. 
The  door  is  locked,  and  no  one  can  find  the  key. 
The  effects  of  this  doctrine  of  the  sub-conscious 
self  on  psychology,  ethics,  and  theology  are 
so  far-reaching,  and  to  us  so  disastrous,  that  a 
thorough  investigation  of  it  and  its  claims  is  urgent. 
That  investigation  cannot  be  made  here  and  now  ; 
we  are  concerned  with  it  only  so  far  as  it  bears  on 
our  present  theme. 

What  are  we  to  make  of  this  wonderful  sub- 
conscious self,  which  does  such  marvellous  things? 
Are  we  to  take  it  as  a  positive  conception,  and  with 
Hartmann  use  it  as  an  explanatory  principle,  when 
all  other  sources  of  explanation  fail  ?  Then  we  say 
with  Hbffding :  '  Psychology  is  on  secure  ground 
only  when  it  confines  itself  to  the  clear  and  certain 
phenomena  and  laws  of  consciousness '  (Psychology, 
Eng.  tr.  p.  73).  True,  Hoffding  immediately  adds  : 
'  But,  starting  from  this  point,  it  discovers  the 
unconscious,  and  sees,  to  its  astonishment,  that 
psychological  laws  prevail  beyond  the  province  of 
conscious  life.  In  what  follows  we  shall  adduce 
some  examples  to  make  this  clear.'  Reference 
is  made  to  memory,  to  the  physiology  of  the 
senses,  to  instinct,  and  to  tact,  to  the  fact  that 
an  unconscious  activity  can  be  carried  on  simul- 
taneously with  a  conscious,  as  '  when  a  spinner 
turns  the  wheel,  and  draws  out  the  thread,  while 
her  thoughts  are  far  away.'  But,  as  the  outcome 
of  the  whole  discussion,  HOffding  cautiously  says  : 

'Notwithstanding  the  intimate  connection  and  close  inter- 
action between  the  conscious  and  the  unconscious,  the  latter 
remains  for  us  a  negative  conception.  The  unconscious 
processes  are  cerebral  processes  just  as  much  as  the  conscious, 
but  whether,  like  these,  they  are  of  several  kinds,  we  do  not 
know.  Instead  of  speaking  of  unconscious  thought  or  un- 
conscious feeling,  it  would  be  safei — if  we  wish  to  avoid  all 
hypotheses — to  speak  with  Carpenter  and  John  Stuart  Mill  of 
unconscious  cerebration,  were  not  this  expression  unsuitable, 
as  suggesting,  in  the  first  place,  the  mistaken  notion  that  there 
may  be  consciousness  of  cerebration,  properly  so  called,  and 
because,  in  the  second  place,  it  might  appear  to  affirm  that 
there  is  nothing  at  all  in  unconscious  activity  related  to  what 
we  know  in  ourselves  as  conscious  states '  (p.  SI). 

While  mental  activity  may  extend  beyond  con- 
sciousness, and  while  self  may  have  a  larger  range 
than  the  consciousness  is  aware  of  at  any  one  time, 
it  is  not  possible  for  psychology,  or  for  clear 
science,  to  seek  for  the  principles  of  rational 
explanation  anywhere  save  in  the  conscious  life 
itself.  The  unconscious  must  remain  a  negative 
conception.  It  is  simply  metaphor,  and  bad 
metaphor  at  that,  to  speak  of  'invasions,'  of 
'rushes'  and  'uprushes,'  from  the  lower  world, 
and  it  is  vain  to  seek  for  explanations  of  the  on- 


going of  our  mental  life  from  what  is  supposed  to 
have  gone  on  in  the  sub-conscious  self.  We  must 
exhaust  the  possibilities  of  consciousness,  as  the 
source  of  explanation,  ere  we  seek  to  bring  in  the 
sub-conscious  and  the  unconscious  as  a  positive 
principle  of  explanation,  as,  from  the  very  nature 
of  the  case,  it  is  impossible  to  bring  these  into 
clear  consciousness,  or  into  consciousness  at  all. 
Instead  of  saying,  with  Sanday,  that  the  function 
of  the  unconscious  is  to  feed  the  conscious,  it  would 
be  more  consistent  with  the  facts  to  say  that  the 
unconscious  and  the  sub-conscious  are  storehouses 
of  products  manufactured  by  consciousness,  and 
kept  in  retentis  until  they  are  needed.  Habit  has 
been  described  as  lapsed  intelligence,  and  is  the 
outcome  of  repeated  conscious  processes,  so  often 
repeated  that  they  have  become  automatic.  Simi- 
larly it  may  be  possible  to  deal  with  all  the 
evidence  of  sub-conscious  and  unconscious  activity 
of  the  self  so  as  to  show  that  all  or  most  of  these 
activities  had  conscious  beginnings,  and,  in  any 
case,  that  they  are  not  unrelated  to  conscious 
activity  either  in  the  past  or  in  the  present. 

At  all  events,  it  is  not  from  these  unconscious 
or  sub-conscious  experiences  that  our  evidence  is 
derived,  out  of  which  are  built  up  those  conclusions 
which  make  up  the  science,  the  poetry,  the  history, 
and  the  philosophy  of  the  world.  For  the  prin- 
ciples which  underlie  these  achievements  of  the 
human  mind,  the  linkages  which  bind  them  to- 
gether, and  the  certainty  which  they  attain  to  are 
derived  from  the  conscious  and  not  from  the  un- 
conscious activity  of  the  mind.  The  basis  of 
certainty  lies  in  consciousness.  Its  affirmations, 
its  intuitions,  are  the  foundations  on  which  we 
build.  Not  on  invasions  from  the  sub-conscious, 
nor  on  uprushes  from  the  unconscious  come  those 
convictions  of  truth,  reality,  and  necessity,  which 
turn  the  raw  material  of  our  experience  into  the 
organized  knowledge  of  the  race. 

*  The  necessity  of  thought  which  is  manifested  in  the  certainty 
of  particular  acts  of  judgment  owes  its  distinctive  character  in 
the  last  instance  to  the  unity  of  self-consciousness.  Every 
particular  judgment  may  be  repeated,  with  the  consciousness 
of  the  identity  of  subject  and  predicate  as  well  as  of  the  act  of 
judgment ;  starting  from  the  same  data,  it  is  always  the  same 
synthesis  which  takes  place,  and  our  self-consciousness  cannot 
exist  apart  from  this  invariability.  Thus  our  judging  ego,  with 
its  unvarying  activity,  is  opposed  to  particular  acts  of  judgment 
as  a  universal,  as  the  same  and  the  permanent  which  binds 
together  thedifferentand  temporarily  separated  acts  of  thought. 
With  the  confidence  of  the  movement  in  each  particular  case  is 
connected  the  consciousness  of  unvarying  repetition,  of  return 
to  the  same  point.  In  this  constancy,  which  presents  a  general 
law  in  contrast  with  the  particular  act,  we  are  conscious  of 
judgment  as  something  withdrawn  from  the  sphere  in  which  we 
have  a  subjective  choice  and  are  free  to  bring  about  alterations  ; 
we  are  conscious  of  it  in  the  same  way  as  when  it  maintains 
itself  in  some  particular  act  against  contradiction.  Because 
this  identity  and  constancy  of  our  action  is  the  condition  of  our 
consciousness  as  one  and  undivided,  it  is  also  the  final  and 
fundamental  basis  upon  which  we  can  fall  back '  (Sigwart,  Logic, 
Eng.  tr.  i.  187). 

It  is  one  of  the  merits  of  Sigwart's  great  treatise 
on  Logic  that  he  brings  all  the  logical  judgments 
into  close  relation  to  the  unity  and  identity  of  self- 
consciousness.  We  know  no  work  in  which  this 
has  been  done  so  thoroughly  and  so  convincingly. 
Take  another  passage,  dealing  with  certainty  : 

'  The  certainty  that  a  judgment  is  permanent,  that  the 
synthesis  is  irrevocable,  that  I  shall  always  say  the  same — this 
certainty  can  be  forthcoming  only  when  it  is  known  to  depend, 
not  upon  momentary  psychological  motives,  which  vary  as 
time  goes  on,  but  upon  something  which  is  immutably  the  same 
every  time  I  think,  and  is  unaffected  by  any  change.  This 
something  is,  on  the  one  hand,  my  self-consciousness  itself,  the 
certainty  that  I  am  I,  the  same  person  who  now  thinks  and 
who  thought  before,  who  thinks  both  one  thing  and  another. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  is  that  about  which  I  judge,  my  thought 
itself  as  far  as  regards  its  invariable  content,  which  I  recog- 
nize as  identical  each  time,  and  which  is  quite  independent  of 
the  state  of  mind  of  the  individual  thinker.  The  certainty 
that  I  am  and  think  is  final  and  fundamental,  the  condition  of 
all  thought  and  all  certainty  whatever.  Here  there  can  be  none 
but  immediate  and  self-evident  certainty  ;  we  cannot  even  say 
that  it  is  necessary,  for  it  is  prior  to  all  necessity.    In  the 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


51 


same  way,  the  certainty  of  my  consciousness  that  I  think 
this  or  that  is  immediate  and  self-evident ;  it  is  inextricably 
interwoven  with  mv  self-consciousness ;  the  one  involves  the 
other' (p.  240). 

The  form  under  which  consciousness  exists  is 
that  of  the  distinction  of  subject  and  object.  As 
factors  in  the  synthesis  of  consciousness  there  are 
to  be  distinguished  the  object  of  which  we  are 
conscious,  and  the  subject  which  is  conscious  of  the 
object.  The  object  is  for  the  subject,  and  is  either 
a  state  of  the  subject,  or  an  activity  of  it,  or  a 
quality  of  external  things.  When  this  distinction 
is  clearly  made,  there  is  a  clear  consciousness ; 
when  vaguely  made,  there  is  a  vague  consciousness  ; 
when  it  is  not  made  at  all,  there  is  no  conscious- 
ness. When  we  are  conscious,  we  are  conscious  of 
something,  and  we  are  conscious  of  that  something 
only  as  we  distinguish  it  from  self,  and  place  it 
over  against  self  as  its  object.  We  are  not  to  enter 
into  the  age-long  controversy  as  to  whether  there 
can  be  a  merely  sensitive  consciousness  which  is 
neither  subject  nor  object,  but  consists  only  of 
particular  feelings.  It  has  been  widely  contended 
that  a  purely  sensitive  consciousness  is  possible, 
and  that  the  reference  to  subject  and  object,  which 
all  admit  as  characteristic  of  full-grown  conscious- 
ness, arises  out  of  associated  experiences.  These 
are  classified  as  vivid  and  faint,  the  vivid  coming 
from  the  object,  and  the  faint  from  the  subject. 
Out  of  these  particular  feelings  association  builds 
up  the  conception  of  both  subject  and  object.  But 
Hume  does  not  allow  any  validity  to  this  concep- 
tion; it  is  only  a  fiction  of  the  mind.  Herbert 
Spencer,  while  he  strives  to  account  for  the  distinc- 
tion of  subject  and  object  by  the  associationalist 
theory  eked  out  by  the  theory  of  evolution,  does 
admit,  or  rather  lays  stress  on,  the  distinction 
between  subject  and  object,  as  a  cardinal  principle 
of  his  synthetic  philosophy.  But  the  mere  addition 
of  units  of  conscious  feeling  could  never  reach  a 
unitary  consciousness.  For  these  units  of  feeling 
are  each  different  from  all  the  rest,  and,  as  they 
begin  in  time,  they  perish  as  soon  as  they  appear, 
unless  they  are  held  together  by  reference  to  the 
self  whose  they  are.  States  of  consciousness  can 
never  be  without  a  consciousness  of  states.  If 
there  is  to  be  a  consciousness  of  states,  there  must 
be  a  subject  which  discriminates  itself  from  the 
states,  can  hold  them  together  for  discrimination 
or  comparison,  and  can  distinguish  all  of  them  as 
states  of  itself. 

Consciousness  may  range  from  the  simplest 
awareness  to  the  closest  discrimination.  It  may 
be  vague  and  narrow,  or  it  may  be  clear  and  com- 
prehensive. The  lowest  range  of  consciousness 
may  be  dim  and  indefinite,  as  when  we  are  dropping 
off  to  sleep,  or  when  our  attention  is  directed  to 
something  else.  In  fact,  many  impressions  may  be 
made  on  our  senses  which  rise  only  to  the  threshold 
of  consciousness,  and  perhaps  may  not  rise  even  to 
the  threshold. 

'  In  these  cases,  consciousness  approaches  a  vanishing  point, 
and  often  reaches  and  passes  it.  The  object  exists  for  us  only 
as  a  vague  objectivity  without  definite  significance.  They 
emerge  from  this  state  only  by  a  voluntary  or  involuntary 
direction  of  our  attention  towards  them.  If,  now,  we  choose 
to  call  this  state  unconscious,  and  reserve  the  name  of  conscious- 
ness only  for  clear  or  distinct  consciousness,  we  should  say  that 
very  many  mental  states  exist  below  consciousness.  This  has 
often  been  done,  and  the  theory  maintained  that  we  may  have 
manifold  sensations  and  feelings  without  being  conscious  of 
them.  But  this  is  simply  the  extravagance  of  confounding  a 
vague  and  imperfect  consciousness  with  none,  the  truth  being 
that  we  may  have  vague  and  unobtrusive  sensations  without 
directing  our  attention  to  them  ;  the  lower  limit  of  conscious- 
ness does  not  admit  of  being  definitely  fixed '  (Bowne,  Introd. 
to  Psychological  Theory,  p.  239  f.). 

The  truth  is,  that  we  are  unable  to  express  con- 
sciousness save  in  the  form  '  I  am  thinking  this  or 
that,  I  am  feeling  pain,  I  am  doing  this  act,  or 
I  am  intending  to  take  such  a  course  of  action.' 
It  is  quite  true,  as  Hume  says,  that  we  always 


find  ourselves  in  some  particular  state,  but  in  every 
state,  whatsoever  it  may  be,  we  find  ourselves.  It 
is  not  possible  to  interview  a  blank  self,  or  to 
abstract  the  ego,  so  as  to  have  an  idea  of  it  as  we 
have  of  external  objects,  or  of  events  of  a  particular 
kind  in  consciousness,  nor  can  we  make  our  self 
completely  an  object,  for,  even  if  that  were  possible, 
there  is  always  that  subjective  activity  of  the 
subject  which  goes  on  while  we  seek  to  make  the 
ego  completely  objective.  While  this  is  so,  yet 
the  further  step  which  is  so  often  taken,  namely, 
to  abstract  altogether  from  the  subject,  and  to 
make  conscious  activity  only  a  stream  of  thought, 
or  a  mere  aggregate,  seems  altogether  illegitimate. 
Can  we  have  a  stream  of  thought,  without  a  single 
permanent  subject  of  our  psychic  activities  ?  Even 
a  stream  has  its  identity,  and  anything  which  we 
can  call  a  unity  is  something  more,  as  already 
observed,  than  the  sum  of  its  parts.  But  can  we 
really  think  of  a  feeling  in  abstraction  from  some- 
thing that  feels,  or  of  a  willing  without  a  subject 
that  wills,  or  of  a  thought  without  a  thinker? 
Can  we  really  think  of  our  psychical  life  in  an 
impersonal  way  ?  It  is  possible  to  describe,  as  in 
fact  we  do,  the  outward  happenings  of  the  world, 
and  in  an  impersonal  way  to  say  'it  rains,'  'it 
thunders,' '  it  hails,' '  it  storms,' '  it  is  dark,'  or  '  it  is 
a  stormy  night. '  Try  this  in  describing  the  psychic 
life,  and  immediately  we  feel  how  incongruous  it 
is.  '  It  thinks,'  '  it  wills,'  '  it  feels,'  '  it  is  in  pain,' 
'  it  isifull  of  joy ' — we  can  write  so,  as  we  can  write 
nonsense,  but  the  incongruity  is  too  obvious,  when 
plainly  put,  to  allow  us  for  one  moment  to  regard 
it  as  an  adequate  account  of  the  facts. 

Even  when  a  psychologist  reduces  the  phenomena 
of  consciousness  to  a  stream  of  thought,  he  is  con- 
strained in  unguarded  moments  to  speak  of  our  will, 
our  psychical  states,  thus  adding  to  the  stream  that 
factor  without  which  it  could  not  have  been  even 
a  stream.  In  the  mere  statement  of  the  case — a 
statement  which  seems  at  first  to  eliminate  the 
necessity  of  a  subject — one  is  forced  to  imply  the 
subject  in  every  statement.  One  is  compelled  to 
imply  a  subject.  For  ideas,  feeling,  or  will  are 
not  there  in  a  vacuum ;  they  are,  after  all,  only 
modes  of  consciousness.  We  may  neglect  a  pain 
which  nobody  feels,  a  pleasure  which  is  pleasant 
to  nobody,  or  a  will  and  a  purpose  which  is  the 
activity  of  no  one.  Is  it  possible  to  imagine  or 
conceive  a  perception  of  these  inner  experiences 
where  there  is  no  perceiver,  a  perception  which  is 
only  the  bare  object  perceived,  a  mere  subjectless 
feeling  ?  How  are  we  to  account  for  the  connexion 
of  all  the  events  of  seeing,  hearing,  feeling,  and 
for  the  recognition  we  have  that  we  have  had  these 
experiences  before,  and  that  we  have  a  memory  of 
them,  without  the  supposition  of  a  subject  whose 
experiences  they  were  ?  Is  it  possible  for  any  one 
really  to  think  of  an  impersonal  stream  of  thought, 
which  binds  into  unity  all  the  particular  psychical 
events  of  our  experience,  and  to  suppose,  further, 
an  additional  impersonal  event,  by  which  all  the 
other  impersonal  events  are  gathered  into  one, 
while  yet  this  additional  event  is  only  a  phantom, 
an  illusion,  although  it  has  the  strange  power 
of  seeming  to  itself  identical  through  all  the 
successive  moments  of  its  experience?  Can  we 
really  think  so  ?  Is  it  not  easier,  more  consistent 
with  the  facts,  to  assume  the  subject  as  real,  as 
present  to  all  its  states,  and  as  able  somehow  to 
hold  them  together,  and  to  group  them  according 
to  their  real  resemblances.  Can  any  one  think  of 
himself  as  the  sum  of  the  events  of  his  experience, 
only  with  the  inexplicable  addition  that  it  is  he 
who  thinks  them  so?  Hume  boldly  calls  this  a 
fiction,  and  Stuart  Mill  calls  it  a  '  final  inexplic- 
ability,'  and  neglects  it  as  a  source  of  explanation. 
Is  it  not  the  easiest  solution  simply  to  aekuowledg* 


56 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


that  the  ideas  of  persistence  and  duration  find 
their  simplest  explanation  from  the  supposition 
that  we  are,  and  know  ourselves  to  be,  identical  in 
time? 

While  we  have  thus  to  postulate  continuity  of 
the  conscious  subject — for  on  any  other  supposition 
we  should  be  unable  to  account  for  the  ideas  of 
change,  continuity,  or  permanence — there  are 
many  questions  which  remain  for  discussion  and 
for  settlement.  It  is  almost  a  matter  of  course  to 
say  that  psychical  events  as  such  exist  only  in  so 
far  as  they  are  present  in  consciousness;  their 
distinctive  character  lies  in  the  fact  that  they  are 
conscious.  A  seeing,  of  which  we  know  nothing, 
a  pain  of  which  we  are  not  aware,  an  act  of  volition 
which  takes  place  without  our  being  able  to  notice 
it,  are  not  possible,  for  the  seeing,  etc.,  is  only  by 
means  of  consciousness.  While  this  is  true,  it  is 
also  true  that  there  are  different  degrees  and  modes 
of  becoming  conscious.  When  a  consciousness  has 
attained  to  some  fullness  of  self-possession,  and  is 
in  possession  of  the  results  of  experience,  there  is 
for  such  a  consciousness  a  fund  of  experience 
organized  into  masses,  and  any  new  experience  can 
take  up  a  new  feeling  or  idea  into  such  an  ideal 
mass  already  formed.  The  process  is  so  fully 
described  in  many  psychological  textbooks  that  we 
need  not  dwell  on  it  here.  Thus,  we  refer  any 
new  experience  of  colour  to  the  class  of  colours  we 
already  know,  and,  being  in  possession  of  these 
names,  we  name  the  new  experience  of  colour 
accordingly.  But  there  was  a  time  in  the  growth  of 
the  subject  when  names  were  not  in  our  possession. 
These  names  of  general  ideas  are  formed  gradually 
from  particular  perceptions,  which  at  the  beginning 
had  no  name.  But  even  for  the  particular  percep- 
tion, or  for  the  particular  experience,  there  is  this 
indispensable  condition,  that  there  should  be  a 
discrimination  of  the  particular  elements  which 
co-exist  at  every  moment,  and  some  notice  taken 
of  them.  These  two  conditions  must  be  present 
before  we  can  properly  speak  of  consciousness  at 
all. 

At  this  earliest  stage  of  conscious  life,  ere  the 
subject  is  in  possession  of  the  wealth  of  organized 
experience,  the  subject  is,  as  it  were,  lost  in  the 
object. 

'  Our  immediate  consciousness  of  objects  seems  at  first  to  be 
a  mere  presentment  of  them  to  the  passive  subject,  to  a  6elf 
that  is  not  in  any  way  occupied  with  itself,  or  even  conscious 
:>f  itself  at  all.  The  outwardly  directed  gaze  seems  simply  to 
admit  the  object,  and  not  to  react,  still  less  to  be  aware  of  it- 
self as  reacting,  upon  it.  But,  in  the  first  place,  we  have  learned 
to  recognise  that,  whether  we  are  conscious  of  it  or  not,  there 
is  always  a  reaction,  an  analytic  and  synthetic  activity  of 
thought,  even  in  our  simplest  perceptive  consciousness;  for, 
without  this  reaction,  no  idea  of  any  object  as  distinct  from, 
and  related  to,  other  objects  could  ever  arise  to  trouble  the 
self-involved  sleep  of  sense.  Apart  from  such  reaction,  we 
might  say  that  the  sensitive  subject  would  remain  for  ever 
confined  to  itself,  were  it  not  that  in  that  case  there  would 
properly  be  no  self  to  be  confined  to ;  for  where  there  is  no 
outward,  there  is,  of  course,  no  inward  life.  It  is  thus  the 
mental  activity  of  the  subject  that  creates  for  him  a  world  of 
objects,  or,  to  put  it  more  simply,  that  enables  him  to  become 
conscious  of  the  world  of  objects  in  which  he  exists.  ...  In  the 
second  place,  not  only  is  the  subject  active  in  perception,  but 
he  necessarily  and  inevitably  has  an  inchoate  consciousness  of 
himself  as  a  subject,  in  distinction  from  the  subjects  which  that 
activity  enables  him  to  apprehend.  For  to  apprehend  an 
effect,  as  such,  is  to  distinguish  it  from,  and  relate  it  to  the  self 
that  is  conscious  of  it.  It  is  to  refer  an  idea  or  feeling  to  that 
which  is  other  than  the  self,  to  reject  it  from  the  self  and  to 
objectify  it;  and  such  a  rejection  or  repulsion  necessarily 
involves-,  on  the  other  side,  a  withdrawal  of  the  self  from  the 
object.  The  simplest  outward-looking  gaze,  which  seems  to 
lose  itself  in  the  object  to  which  it  is  directed,  yet  recognises 
that  object  as  other  than  itself  or  its  own  state  ;  and,  indeed, 
all  its  absorption  in  the  object  may  be  said  to  be  its  effort  to 
heal  the  breach,  of  which,  in  the  very  act  of  perception,  it  has 
become  conscious.  Hence  we  come  to  the  result  that,  even  in 
its  utmost  apparent  passivity  of  perception,  the  mind  is  active  ; 
and  even  in  its  utmost  absorption  in  the  object,  it  is  conscious 
of  the  self  in  distinction  from  it.  It  is  true  that  the  subjective 
aspects  of  the  consciousness  of  objects  are  at  first  latent,  or 
they  are  present  only  in  an  imperfect  and  inchoate  form. 
Attention  is  not  specially  directed  to  them  ;  and  in  any  descrip- 


tion which  the  individual  would  give  of  his  own  consciousness, 
they  would  generally  be  omitted.  But  they  are  always  there. 
For  it  is  not  possible,  in  the  nature  of  things,  that  there  should 
be  an  object,  except  for  a  subject,  or  without  that  subject 
distinguishing  the  object  from  itself,  and  itself  from  the  object. 
In  this  sense  there  can  be  no  consciousness  of  objects  without 
self-consciousness.  Even,  therefore,  if  the  word  "  I "  be  delayed 
for  a  little,  the  inchoate  thought  of  it  cannot  be  wanting  to  one 
who  is  conscious  of  objects  as  such'  (Edward  Caird,  The_ 
Evolution  of  Religion,  i.  183-185). 

As  we  know  consciousness  in  ourselves,  it  has  a 
beginning,  a  growth,  and  a  history.  Thrust  into 
the  midst  of  conditions  not  realized,  slowly  learning 
to  find  itself  at  home  in  the  world,  and  gradually 
coming  to  the  knowledge  that  there  is  an  external 
order  to  which  it  is  related,  the  self-conscious 
being,  in  intercourse  with  things,  comes,  so  far,  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  world  and  of  itself.  The 
story  need  not  be  told  here,  but  there  is  a  story, 
for  the  finite  personality  does  come  to  the  know- 
ledge of  itselft  It  learns  to  distinguish  between 
itself  and  the  world.  But  consciousness  becomes 
clear  and  definite  when  it  recognizes  that  there 
are  distinctions  among  its  objects,  and  relations 
into  which  these  can  be  gathered  up.  These 
relations  become  ever  more  clear  and  definite,  and, 
as  knowledge  progresses,  consciousness  finds  itself 
in  an  ordered  world,  and,  just  in  proportion  to  its 
recognition  and  mastery  over  the  order  of  the 
world,  is  its  recognition  of  itself  as  the  counterpart 
of  the  order  of  the  universe.  Its  own  rational 
principles  are  realized  there,  and  it  becomes  more 
rational  as  it  recognizes  the  objective  value  of  its 
own  rational  nature,  as  embodied  in  a  rational 
world.  But  we  may  not  regard  the  distinction  of 
self  and  not-self  as  if  it  were  identical  with  the 
distinction  of  subject  and  object.  The  first  may 
be  called  an  ontological  distinction,  for  it  relates 
to  the  distinction  between  two  things  which  make 
up  the  whole  sphere  of  being,  whereas  the  distinc- 
tion between  subject  and  object  describes  a  mental 
function.  The  contents  of  the  two  are  constantly 
changing.  At  one  moment  the  object  may  be  this 
table,  with  its  shape,  colour,  material ;  and  the 
next  moment  it  may  be  the  mental  process  which 
passed  through  the  mind  when  the  table  was  the 
object.  The  object  may  be  things  in  the  outward 
world,  or  it  may  be  the  state  of  consciousness  by 
means  of  which  we  deal  with  the  outer  world.  It 
may  be  the  thing  I  see,  or  it  may  be  the  vision 
through  which  I  see  it.  The  distinction  between 
subject  and  object  is  the  form  under  which  con- 
sciousness always  takes  place  ;  subject  and  object 
are  a  relation  within  one  experience,  and  they  are 
essential  to  the  reality  of  that  experience. 

It  may  be  observed  that  the  conception  of  self, 
like  all  other  conceptions,  is  one  of  gradual  growth, 
and  the  time  of  its  full  realization  is,  for  us,  not 
yet.  We  are  not  to  look  for  the  self  as  if  it  were 
laid  on  a  shelf,  a  thing  among  other  things.  It  is 
the  subject  of  all  experience,  and  usually  it  is  the 
last  conception  which  is  reached  by  the  conscious 
subject  itself.  This  late  recognition  of  the  concep- 
tion of  itself  may  be  paralleled  by  the  late 
emergence,  in  the  history  of  thought,  of  the  problem 
of  thought  itself.  Nothing  is  nearer  to  us  than 
thought,  and  yet  the  problem  of  thought  is  one  of 
the  very  hardest  to  grasp.  Spontaneous  thought 
deals  with  objects  rather  than  with  itself,  and 
reflexion  is  hard.  Thought  hides  behind  itself ;  it 
is  so  occupied  with  its  processes  and  problems  that 
it  does  not  reflect  on  them,  and,  having  reached 
conclusions  unreflectingly,  often  takes  these  as 
original  data  given  from  without.  Knowledge  is 
taken  for  granted,  and  the  knowing  process  was 
for  a  long  time  utterly  neglected.  Nor  had  know- 
ledge any  suspicion  of  the  complexity  of  the  know- 
ing process,  nor  did  knowledge  find  it  necessary  to 
su  bmit  itself  to  an  analysis  of  the  process  of  know- 
ing or  to  inquire  into  its  own  validity.     It  was 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


57 


inevitable  that  in  the  long  run  the  question  of  the 
possibility  of  knowledge  should  arise,  but  it  could 
not  arise  until  knowledge  had  been  at  work  for  a 
long  time,  and  had  attained  to  some  mastery  over 
itself  and  its  work.  So  is  it  with  the  problem  of 
the  self.  As  shown  by  Caird  in  the  quotation 
above,  the  consciousness  of  the  self  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  objects  is  at  first  latent ;  it  may  be  delayed, 
but  it  is  always  implicitly  there.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  it  may  always  be  latent  and  never  come 
into  clear  consciousness  at  all.  Self-experience 
may  be  the  only  form  which  self -consciousness  may 
assume.  The  self  may  he  so  lost  in  the  process  of 
experience,  so  absorbed  in  its  feelings,  desires,  and 
thoughts,  that  it  may  never  reflect  on  itself,  and 
never  ask  consciously  what  it  is.  It  may  remain 
on  this  level  all  through  life.  Absorbed  in  its 
object,  living  out  its  experience  of  pleasure,  en- 
grossed in  its  own  pursuits,  and  interested  in  the 
success  of  its  plans,  it  may  never  seek  to  reflect  on 
its  own  nature  or  on  the  order  implied  in  the  most 
simple  experience.  One  may  be  active,  energetic, 
far-sighted,  wise,  and  yet  may  have  never  given  a 
single  hour  to  the  thought  of  that  self  which  has 
all  these  characteristics,  for  in  the  history  of 
human  thought  and  its  evolution  the  simplest  and 
most  fundamental  of  all  problems  are  the  latest  to 
emerge  into  the  light. 

The  two  factors — subject  and  object — which 
always  represent  the  form  which  experience  has, 
are  not,  at  the  outset,  explicitly  distinguished, 
and  experience  may  go  on  all  through  life  without 
any  clear  consciousness  of  the  distinction.  Yet 
the  two  inseparable  factors  are  always  there.  It 
is  always  possible,  however,  to  focus  our  attention 
on  the  one  factor  or  on  the  other.  The  mind  may 
direct  attention  on  the  object  or  on  the  subject. 
The  consciousness  of  self  may  remain  at  the  level 
of  mere  self-experience ;  it  may  be  so  absorbed  in 
the  object  as  never  to  ask  itself  about  itself.  It 
may,  indeed,  neglect  itself  altogether,  and  may  so 
seek  to  formulate  its  experience  as  to  make  the 
subjective  factor  disappear.  Thus  it  may  seek  to 
become  a  philosophy,  and  find  a  sufficient  explana- 
tion of  experience  in  a  something  which  does  not 
require  a  subject  of  knowledge  at  all.  But  such 
a  philosophy,  though  it  constantly  reappears,  is 
after  all  inadequate  to  answer  the  questions  which 
constantly  recur  and  which  we  need  not  here  re- 
state. For  immediately  the  question  arises  as  to 
the  subject  for  whom  all  experience  is  possible, 
and,  when  we  ask  this  question,  the  answer  must 
be  that  a  self  which  is  conscious  at  all  has  implicitly 
within  itself  the  possibility  of  a  complete  self- 
consciousness.  Focusing  our  attention,  then,  on 
this  factor  of  experience,  we  can  regard  it  as  the 
subject  of  experience  which  takes  up  all  particular 
experiences,  rules  them,  binds  them  into  a  system, 
and  makes  them  elements  in  one  consistent 
experience.  In  this  event  self-consciousness  would 
have  attained  its  ideal,  for  it  would  have  reached 
the  goal  of  self-knowledge  and  self-control.  The 
conception  of  a  perfect  self-consciousness  consists 
in  the  fact  that  it  is  in  possession  of  itself,  and 
can  set  the  bounds  of  its  own  experience.  Self- 
knowledge,  self-reverence,  self-control — in  these, 
and  not  in  finitude  or  infinitude,  lies  the  conception 
of  a  perfect  selfhood.  But  for  finite  beings,  for 
us  men,  this  ideal  is  a  goal,  and  cannot  be  an 
actual  attainment.  For  we  do  not  set  the  limits 
of  our  own  experience ;  we  are  subject  to  inrushes 
from  without,  we  have  experiences  which  are  in- 
herently irrational,  and  we  have  feelings  which  are 
sometimes  uncontrollable,  and  generally  there  is 
so  much  of  our  experience  which  is  simply  given 
that  we  cannot  be  said  to  be  masters  of  ourselves. 
Yet  the  growth  of  a  rational  personality  is  measured 
by  the  progress  of  the  mastery  which  it  has  over 


the  elements  of  its  own  experience,  and  the  powei 
of  placing  every  impulsive  and  merely  emotional 
element  under  the  guidance  of  reasonable  self- 
consciousness. 

Thus,  then,  we  may  regard  the  self  as  conscious 
of  itself  in  all  its  manifold  experiences.  Know- 
ledge is  possible,  because  all  the  objects  of  know- 
ledge can  be  brought  into  relation  to  the  self. 
Objects  out  of  all  relation  to  the  conscious  self  are 
for  that  self  non-existent.  Whether  we  look  at 
the  self-conscious  being  from  the  point  of  view  of 
knowledge,  or  from  the  ethical,  or  the  aesthetic, 
or  the  religious  point  of  view,  the  result  is  to 
raise  our  estimate  of  the  self-conscious  being  to 
the  highest.  For  each  of  these  affirms  that  the 
self-conscious  being  is  the  postulate  without  which 
truth,  beauty,  goodness  are  without  meaning  or 
worth.  The  conscious  subject  is  the  subject  for 
whom  all  objects  are ;  it  is  also  the  subject  in 
which  goodness  is  realized,  and  ethics  affirms  that 
the  self  is  that  in  which  goodness  is  to  be  realized 
through  a  continual  process  of  self-realization  and 
self-determination.  The  world  of  beauty  has  no 
meaning  without  the  seeing  eye  and  the  ideals 
which  the  self  in  intercourse  with  the  world  builds 
up  for  itself. 

We  do  not  require  to  follow  out  the  results  of 
the  analysis  of  self-consciousness  into  its  further 
issues,  or  to  enter  into  the  discussion  regarding  an 
absolute,  all-inclusive  self-consciousness.  Who- 
ever seeks  to  follow  out  that  argument  into  all  its 
consequences  may  find  it  fully  unfolded  in  the 
works  of  Hegel  and  his  followers,  as  well  as  in  the 
works  of  Green,  of  the  two  Cairds,  of  Koyce,  and 
of  many  others.  It  may,  however,  he  said  that  it 
is  scarcely  possible  to  describe  the  totality  of 
things  according  to  the  analogy  of  one  self.  The 
Hegelian  philosophy  is  a  perfect  description  of  the 
way  in  which  an  inchoate  self  arrives,  or  may 
arrive,  at  self-consciousness.  It  is  of  the  highest 
value  from  that  point  of  view.  But  to  make  it 
absolute  seems  too  great  a  demand.  For  this  is 
a  universe  of  many  selves,  and  the  unity  of  the 
universe  cannot  be  construed  after  the  fashion  of 
the  growth  and  evolution  of  one  self.  While, 
therefore,  the  world  is  indebted  to  the  Hegelian 
idealists  for  the  analysis  of  self-consciousness,  and 
for  the  far-reaching  results  of  that  analysis,  the 
attempt  to  construe  the  life  of  the  universe  after 
that  analogy  cannot  be  regarded  as  final. 

Ere  we  close,  it  may  be  well  to  notice  the 
argument  of  Bradley,  because  it  would  make  all 
the  contendings  of  this  article  invalid.  We  quote 
his  summary : 

'  We  had  found  that  our  ideas  as  to  the  nature  of  things — as 
to  substance  and  adjective,  relation  and  quality,  space  and 
time,  motion  and  activity —were  in  their  essence  indefensible. 
But  we  had  heard  somewhere  a  rumour  that  the  self  was  to 
bring  order  into  chaos.  And  we  were  curious  first  to  know 
what  this  term  might  stand  for.  The  present  chapter  has 
supplied  us  with  an  answer  too  plentiful.  Self  has  turned  out 
to  mean  so  many  things,  to  mean  them  so  ambiguously,  and 
to  be  so  wavering  in  its  applications,  that  we  do  not  feel 
encouraged.  We  found,  first,  that  a  man's  self  might  be  his 
total  present  contents,  discoverable  on  making  an  imaginary 
cross  section.  Or  it  might  be  the  average  contents  we  should 
presume  ourselves  likely  to  find,  together  with  something  else 
which  we  call  dispositions.  From  this  we  drifted  into  a  search 
for  the  self  as  the  essential  point  or  area  within  the  self ;  and 
we  discovered  that  we  really  did  not  know  what  this  was. 
Then  we  went  on  to  perceive  that,  under  personal  identity,  we 
entertained  a  confused  bundle  of  conflicting  ideas.  Again  the 
self,  as  merely  that  which  for  the  time  being  interests,  proved 
not  satisfactory ;  and  from  this  we  passed  to  the  distinction 
and  the  division  of  self  as  against  the  not-self.  Here,  in  both  the 
tbeoretical  and  again  in  the  practical  relation,  we  found  that 
the  self  had  no  contents  that  were  fixed ;  or  it  had,  at  least, 
none  sufficient  to  make  it  a  self  (Appearance  and  Reality-, 
p.  101  f.). 

In  his  own  ironical  way  Bradley  had  said  else- 
where : 

'There  remains  still  left  a  third  moral,  which,  as  I  am  in- 
formed,  has  been  drawn  by  others,  that  if  we  are  notable  to  rest 
with  the  vulgar,  nor  to  shout  in  the  battle  of  our  great  schools, 


58 


CONSECRATION 


it  might  be  worth  our  while  to  remember  that  we  live  on  an 
island,  and  that  our  national  mind,  if  we  do  not  enlarge  it,  may 
also  grow  insular  ;  that  not  far  from  us  there  lies  (they  say  so)  a 
world  of  thought,  which,  with  all  variety,  is  neither  one  nor 
the  other  of  our  two  philosophies,  but  whose  battle  is  the  battle 
of  philosophy  itself  against  two  undying  and  opposite  one- 
fiidednesses  ;  a  philosophy  which  thinks  what  the  vulgar  believe  ; 
a  philosophy,  lastly,  which  we  have  all  refuted,  and,  having 
so  cleared  our  consciences,  which  some  of  us  at  least  might  take 
steps  to  understand '  (Ethical  Studies,  p.  38). 

Perhaps  Appearance  and  Reality  is  the  endeavour 
to  think  what  the  vulgar  believe.  But  there  is 
left  in  it  no  shred  of  belief  of  what  the  vulgar 
believe.  Of  the  whole  work  set  forth  with  such 
amazing  ability  in  the  last  named  treatise  this 
much  may  be  said,  that  it  amounts  to  a  demon- 
stration of  the  uselessness  of  the  attempt  to 
interpret  experience  from  a  mere  abstract  point  of 
view.  Bradley  finds  that  all  the  categories  and 
relations  of  thought  abound  in  contradiction.  In- 
herence, predication,  quality,  identity,  causality, 
unity,  space,  and  time  are  full  of  contradictions. 
When  we  arrive  at  the  question  of  the  self  and  its 
reality,  contradictions  swarm  more  and  more. 
What  is  the  way  out  of  this  network  of  contradic- 
tions ?  They  are  somehow  removed  in  the  Absolute. 
These  contradictions  are  Appearance,  and  Keality 
has  somehow  absorbed  them  into  itself.  But  it 
would  be  quite  possible  to  show  that  the  same 
method  used  by  Bradley  to  discredit  Appearance 
would  work  havoc  also  with  the  Absolute.  That  is 
on  the  supposition  that  his  logical  procedure  could 
be  carried  out  in  the  Absolute.  The  greatest  con- 
tradiction we  know  is  the  contradiction  between 
the  rigour  of  his  logic  as  applied  to  Appearance, 
and  the  slackness  of  it  as  applied  to  the  Absolute. 
Apart  from  this,  is  not  the  method  of  Bradley 
simply  an  illustration  of  a  wrong  conception  of 
the  categories,  and  of  their  application  ? 

'The  epistemological  interest  makes  us  unwilling  to  admit 
anything  that  cannot  be  conceptually  grasped.  Accordingly  it 
seeks  to  make  ideas  all-embracing.  At  the  same  time  it  is 
clear  that  this  view  is  a  tissue  of  abstractions.  The  impersonal 
idea  is  a  pure  fiction.  Ail  actual  ideas  are  owned  by,  or  belong 
to,  some  one,  and  mean  nothing  as  floating  free.  We  have 
already  seen  that  the  various  categories  of  thought,  apart  from 
their  formal  character  as  modes  of  intellectual  procedure,  get 
any  real  significance  only  in  the  concrete  self-conscious  life 
of  the  living  mind.  Apart  from  this,  when  considered  as  real, 
they  become  self-destructive  or  contradictory.  The  idealism  of 
the  type  we  are  now  considering  assumes  that  these  categories 
admit  of  being  conceived  in  themselves,  and  that  they  are  in 
a  measure  the  pre-conditions  of  concrete  existence,  and  in  such 
a  way  that  we  might  almost  suppose  that  a  personal  being  is 
compounded  of  being,  plus  unity,  plus  identity,  plus  causality, 
etc.  Thus  personal  existence  appears  as  the  outcome  and 
product  of  something  more  ultimate  and  fundamental.  The 
fictitious  nature  of  this  view  has  already  appeared.  When  we 
ask  what  we  mean  by  any  of  these  categories,  it  turns  out,  as 
we  have  seen,  that  we  mean  the  significance  we  find  them  to 
have  in  our  self-conscious  life.  In  the  concrete  the  terms  have 
no  meaning  except  as  it  is  abstracted  from  our  own  personal 
experience.  The  only  unity  we  know  anything  about,  apart 
from  the  formal  unities  of  logic,  is  the  unity  of  the  unitary 
self ;  and  the  only  identity  we  know  anything  about  is  no 
abstract  continuity  of  existence  through  an  abstract  time ;  it 
is  simply  the  self-equality  of  intelligence  throughout  its 
experience.  And  the  change  which  we  find  is  not  an  abstract 
change  running  off  in  an  abstract  time,  but  is  simply  the 
successive  form  under  which  the  Belf-equal  intelligence  realizes 
its  purpose  and  projects  the  realizing  activity  against  the 
background  of  its  self-consciousness.  Similarly  for  being  itself  ; 
in  the  concrete  it  means  the  passing  object  of  perception,  or 
else  it  means  existence  like  our  own'  (Bowne,  Personalism, 
p.  253  ff.).  Again,  '  The  notion  of  the  self  can  easily  be  taken  in 
such  a  way  as  to  be  worthless.  We  are  asked  of  what  use  the 
self  is,  after  all,  in  explaining  the  mental  life.  How  does  its 
unity  explain  the  plurality  and  variety  of  consciousness?,  and 
the  answer  is  that  it  does  not  explain  it,  and  yet  the  unity 
is  no  less  necessary.  For  the  consciousness  of  plurality  is 
demonstrably  impossible  without  the  fact  of  conscious  unity. 
This  unity  does  not,  indeed,  enable  us  to  deduce  plurality,  and 
hence  the  plurality  must  be  viewed  as  an  aspect  of  the  unity, 
but  not  as  an  aspect  of  an  abstract  unity  without  distinction  or 
difference,  but  a  living  conscious  unity,  which  is  one  in  its 
manifoldnesB  and  manifold  in  its  oneness.  Taken  verbally,  this 
might  easily  be  shown  to  be  contradictory,  but,  taken  con- 
cretely, it  is  the  fact  of  consciousness,  and  none  the  less  so 
because  our  formal  and  discursive  thought  finds  it  impossible 
to  construe  it '  (ib.  p.  261  f .). 

The  unity  of  consciousness,  the  identity  of  the 


self-conscious  life,  the  progressive  realization  of 
the  self  in  intercourse  and  in  interaction  with  the 
world  and  with  its  fellows,  are  thus  among  the 
most  sure  of  our  beliefs,  and  among  the  most 
indispensable  of    our    postulates.     Many  further 

?[uestions  arise  which  cannot  be  discussed  here, 
or  the  adequate  solution  of  any  one  problem 
involves  the  solution  of  every  other.  But  no 
problem  can  be  solved  on  a  merely  impersonal 
plane,  and  no  category  is  of  value  except  as  a 
function  of  the  concrete  personal  life. 

Literature. — The  following  is  a  selection  from  the  vast 
literature  dealing  with  the  question  :  Adamson,  The  Develop- 
ment of  Modern  Philosophy,  1903 ;  Bowne,  lntrod.  to  Psycho- 
logical Theory,  1886,  also  Personalism,  1908;  Bradley, 
Abearance  and  Reality,  1893  (2nd  ed.  1897),  also  Ethical 
Studies,  1876 ;  Edward  Caird,  The  Evolution  of  Religion,  2 
vols.  1893 ;  Hbffding,  Outlines  of  Psychology,  Eng.  tr.  1892 ; 
James,  The  Principles  of  Psychology,  2  vols.  1891,  also  Varieties 
of  Religious  Experience,  1902 ;  Green,  Works,  ed.  Nettleship, 
vol.  i.  (1885)  ;  Kiilpe,  Outlines  of  Psychology,  Eng.  tr.  1895,  also 
lntrod.  to  Philosophy,  Eng.  tr.  1897 ;  Lotze,  Metaphysic,  Eng. 
tr.  1884  ;  Ladd,  Philosophy  of  Knowledge,  1897 ;  Munsterbergr, 
Psychology  and  Life,  1899 ;  Shadworth  Hodgson,  The  Meta- 
physic of  Experience,  4  vols.  1898  ;  Stout,  Manual  of  Psycho- 
logy,  2  vols.  1898-9 ;  Sigrwart,  Logic,  2  vols.,  Eng.  tr.  1896 ; 
Ward,  art.  'Psychology,'  in  EBr$,  also  Naturalism  and 
Agnosticism,  2  vols.  1899 ;  Taylor,  Elements  of  Metaphysics, 
1903  ;  Wundt,  Human  and  Animal  Psychology,  Eng.  tr.  1894 ; 
Villa,  Contemporary  Psychology,  1903 ;  Royce,  The  Spirit  of 
Modern  Philosophy^,  1897,  also  The  World  and  the  Individual, 
2  vols.  1900-1 ;  see  also  the  Histories  of  Philosophy,  such  as 
Ueberweg,  Hoffding,  Erdmann.  JAMES  IVERACH. 

CONSECRATION.— 'Consecration,'  or  'dedi- 
cation,' may  be  defined  as  the  solemn  setting  apart 
of  persons  or  things  for  some  particular  religious 
work  or  use.  The  essence  of  any  such  rite  or  cere- 
mony is  to  be  found  in  the  performance,  whenever 
possible,  of  some  act  which  is  typical,  or  sym- 
bolical, of  that  for  which  the  setting  apart  or 
consecration  takes  place.  This  act,  either  from 
the  first  or  in  process  of  time,  is  naturally  accom- 
panied by  some  announcement  to  the  congregation 
of  what  is  being  done  or  intended,  and  by  forms  of 
prayer  asking  for  the  Divine  approval  and  bless- 
ing ;  but  no  such  accompaniments  are  really  essen- 
tial to  the  consecration  itself,  though  they  increase 
the  dignity  of  the  occasion  and  tend  to  general 
edification.  This  is,  indeed,  true  of  all  symbolical 
rites  and  ceremonies  in  their  ultimate  simplicity, 
and  the  Biblical  narrative  well  illustrates  the 
truth  in  its  account  of  the  marriage  of  Adam 
and  Eve  (Gn  223),  where  the  essence  of  the  mar- 
riage rite  is  described  in  the  simple  statement  that 
'  the  Lord  God  brought  unto  the  man '  the  woman 
whom  He  had  made  of  the  rib  taken  from  his 
side. 

With  regard,  however,  to  the  consecration  of 
persons  or  things  in  the  stricter  sense  with  which 
we  are  now  dealing,  we  see  traces  of  the  original 
idea  in  various  instances.  The  ordination  of  a 
lector  (reader)  consists  in  permitting  him  for  the 
first  time  to  read  the  Gospel  in  the  course  of  the 
service.1  A  priest  is  made  by  permitting  him  (as 
in  the  modern  Roman  Pontifical)  to  celebrate  the 
Holy  Mysteries  simultaneously  with  the  consecrat- 
ing bishop;2  and  in  the  same  way  an  altar,  and 
even  a  church  itself,3  are  consecrated  by  being 
first  used  for  Holy  Communion,  and  so  on.  Again, 
there  are  cases  where  the  act  is  more  conveniently 
and  suitably  symbolical  rather  than  typical :  e.g. 

1  Cf.  Cyprian,  Ep.  xxxiii.  2,  where  he  speaks  of  a  young 
lector  Aurelius  thus :  '  Dominico  legit  interim  nobis,  id  est, 
auspicatus  est  pacem,  dum  dedicat  lectionem '  (while  he  acts  in 
his  new  capacity  as  lector). 

2  See  Procter  and  Frere,  New  Hist,  of  Book  of  Com.  Pr.,  Lond. 
1901,  p.  669  note. 

3  Cf.  the  letter  of  Pope  Vigilius  to  Profuturusof  Braga(A.D. 
538) :  '  consecrationem  cuiuslibet  ecclesiae  in  qua  sanctuaria 
non  ponuntur  celebritatem  tantum  scimus  esse  missarum.' 
See  J.  Wordsworth  (On  the  Rite  of  Consecration,  p.  6  f.),  who 
points  out  the  significance  of  the  fact  that  the  words  KvpiaKov 
and  Dominicum  are  used  both  for  the  Lord's  House  or  Temple 
and  for  the  Lord's  Supper  or  Sacrifice  ;  see  also  Duchesne, 
Origines  du  culte  chre't.  p.  404  (Eng.  tr.). 


CONSECRATION 


'A 


the  doorkeeper  of  the  church  receives  the  keys  of 
the  church  doors,  the  sub-deacon  receives  the 
chalice  and  paten  (the  vessels  of  his  office),  the 
virgin  is  veiled  to  signify  her  marriage  with 
Christ  (or  His  Church),  the  lector  himself  actually 
receives  a  copy  of  those  Gospels  which  he  is  hence- 
forth privileged  to  read,  and  so  on.  The  Greek 
word  commonly  used  to  denote  dedication  of  build- 
ings (iyitalvta  ;  cf .  Kaivlfcw  and  Kaivovv x)  itself  sug- 
gests that  the  idea  here  emphasized  lies  at  the 
root  of  the  ceremonies  employed. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the  Christians 
were  not  the  first  to  introduce  the  practice  of  thus 
consecrating,  or  dedicating,  persons  or  things  to 
religious  purposes.  Apart  from  the  well-known 
custom  of  the  Jews  (e.g.  in  dedicating  houses,  Dt 
205,  Ps  30  [title] ;  or  city-walls,  Neh  12s7 ;  or  the 
Temple,  2  Ch.  5.  6 ;  Jos.  Ant.  XI.  iv.  7f.,  XV.  xi.  6), 
both  the  Greeks  and  the  Komans  (and  other 
nations  as  well)  observed  such  ceremonies  for  their 
priests  and  sacred  buildings.  But  for  Christians, 
during  a  considerable  period  after  the  foundation 
of  their  faith,  anything  but  the  simplest  and  least 
imposing  ceremonies  in  connexion  with  consecra- 
tion would  have  been  both  out  of  place  and  prac- 
tically impossible.  This  article  does  not  deal 
(except  incidentally  thus  far)  with  the  ordination 
of  the  clergy  (see  Ordination).  We  proceed, 
therefore,  to  consider  the  cases  (chiefly  those  of 
buildings)  to  which  the  word  '  consecration '  is 
more  usually  applied  in  the  present  day. 

During  the  first  three  centuries  of  the  Christian 
era  we  have  little  evidence,  if  any,  of  regular  rites 
or  ceremonies  being  in  use  when  places  or  build- 
ings were  set  apart  for  Divine  service.  Of  course, 
such  places  or  buildings  gradually  became  more 
and  more  numerous,  and  more  and  more  carefully 
restricted  to  religious  purposes,  as  persecution 
decreased  and  the  affairs  of  the  Church  became 
more  settled.  But  we  can  easily  imagine  that, 
almost  from  the  first,  forms  and  ceremonies  grew 
up  in  connexion  with  their  dedication  ;  for  instance, 
as  J.  Wordsworth  has  reminded  us,2  the  two 
primary  conditions  were  probably  '  a  transference 
of  previous  ownership  on  the  part  of  the  Founder, 
and  an  acceptance  of  the  trust  by  the  Bishop  of 
the  Diocese ' ;  and  the  only  essential  ceremony  was 
the  solemn  celebration  of  the  Holy  Eucharist.3 

'  The  part  played  by  the  Founder  or  Builder  would,  in  accord- 
ance with  Jewish  and  heathen  precedent,  be  a  considerable 
one ;  and  Christian  custom,  acting  in  accordance  with  the 
principles  of  Roman  law,  would  prescribe  the  dedication  by 
solemn  and  ceremonial  use.  The  usurpatio  juris  of  the 
Christian  Society  in  its  new  home  could  hardly  be  otherwise 
exemplified  than  by  the  Sacrament  in  which  believers,  gathered 
under  the  presidency  of  their  chief  pastor,  came  together  to 
meet  their  Lord  in  His  new  house,  to  plead  His  sacrifice,  and  to 
feast  upon  it.'4 

We  have  to  dismiss  as  evidence  the  quotation 
from  Philo  Judaeus,  de  Vita  Contempt.,  given  by 
Eusebius  (HE  ii.  17.  9)  and  adduced  by  Bona  (de 
Reb.  Liturg.,  Rome,  1671, 1,  xix.):  iv  exdcn-Tj  Si  oMa 
[of  the  Therapeutae  in  Egypt]  lartv  oU-q^a  Upbv 
8  KaKeirai  ffefiveiov  Kal  fiovaarTjpiov  k.t.X.,  because 
Eusebius's  identification  of  the  Therapeutae  with 
the  Christian  ascetics  of  S.  Mark  in  Alexandria  is 
baseless  and  next  to  impossible.  And  the  state- 
ment in  the  Calendar  from  the  Library  of  the 
Queen  of  Sweden,  quoted  by  Baronius  (Annal.  A.D. 

1  afaepiaa-is  is  another  noun,  and  avafaivai  another  verb. 

2  Op.  eit.  p.  8. 

3  Cf.  the  two  corresponding  regulations  from  the  letter  of  Pope 
Vigilius,  quoted  above :  '  omnes  basilicae  cum  missa  debent  sem- 
per consecrari,  et  nullus  presbyter  missas  celebrare  praesumat 
nisi  in  sacratis  ab  episcopo  locis.'  These,  though  not  so  early  as 
they  claim  to  be,  probably  embody  ancient  tradition  (Words- 
worth, I.e.).  The  Liber  Diurnus,  which  gives  us  very  early 
Roman  usage,  speaks  of  dedications  without  missce  publiece  or 
publica  processw,  but  these  are  (according  to  Duchesne,  op. 
eit.  p.  404)  '  cases  of  monastic  oratories  not  open  to  the  public,' 
80  that  the  inaugural  missce  would  be  of  a  gufflsi'-private 
nature. 

4  Wordsworth,  loc.  eit. 


57,  no.  100),  '  Kal.  Aug.  Romae  dedicatio  primae 
ecclesiae  a  beato  Petro  constructae  et  consecratae,' 
is  unhistorical ; '  and  so,  no  doubt,  is  the  assertion 
attributed  to  Euodius  (Niceph.  ii.  3),  who  was  the 
first  bishop  of  Antioch,  that  James  was  consecrated 
first  bishop  of  Jerusalem,  and  that  the  seven  deacons 
were  ordained  in  that  house  in  which  Christ  insti- 
tuted the  Lord's  Supper,  and  where  the  Holy  Ghost 
descended  on  the  Apostles. 

It  is  not  till  the  cessation  of  the  persecution  of 
Diocletian  that  we  are  on  safe  ground  with  regard 
to  any  actually  recorded  service  of  dedication. 
Eusebius  (HE  x.  3)  speaks  of  the  restoration  of 
peace  at  that  time  being  marked  by  the  founding 
of  new  churches,  and,  among  other  signs,  mentions 
tyKcuvlwv  iopral  Kara.  ir6Xeis  Kal  twv  dpri  veenraytov 
irpoo-evKTijpliuv  d^iepuVeis,  a  notable  instance  being 
the  dedication  of  the  Church  at  Tyre  (in  the  name 
of  Paulinus),  which  took  place  A.D.  314,  and  at 
which  the  historian  himself  preached  the  inaugural 
sermon.2  There  was  a  large  concourse  of  bisliops, 
clergy,  and  people  on  the  occasion,  and  the  Holy 
Mysteries  were  apparently  celebrated,  but  no  other 
distinctively  initiatory  ceremony  is  mentioned. 
This  occasion  is  historically  important,  because 
it  seems  to  be  the  first  recorded  instance,  both 
(1)  of  a  kind  of  consecration  service,  and  (2) 
of  a  church  with  what  is  now  commonly  called  a 
'dedication,'  i.e.  consecrated  under  the  title  of  a 
patron  saint.  Subsequently,  instances  of  both 
sorts  become  more  and  more  frequent. 

As  Duchesne  (loc.  eit.)  has  pointed  out,  the 
church  of  S.  Paulinus  at  Tyre  is  a  representative 
of  one  out  of  two  types  of  church  in  the  first  ages, 
viz.  what  we  should  now  call  the  parochial  church 
of  a  town  or  district.  Of  this  type  there  would 
sometimes  be  more  than  one  needed  and  provided 
in  any  single  town  or  district,  the  principal  one  of 
which  would,  of  course,  be  the  'cathedral,' as  we 
now  call  it,  where  the  bishop's  throne  was  set  up. 
Churches  of  this  type  seem  often  to  have  been 
known  by  the  names  of  their  founders  or  other  great 
persons  connected  with  the  place  (e.g.  at  Tyre  above, 
S.  Denys  and  others  at  Alexandria  [Epiph.  Hcer. 
lxix.  2 ;  PG  xlii.  205],  and  S.  Ambrose  at  Milan)  ;3 
or  by  some  great  Christian  doctrine  or  event  (e.g. 
'Ay la  'Socpla  at  Constantinople  [A.D.  360],  or  the 
'Ai'do-Toms  at  Jerusalem).4  A  church  called  Do- 
minicum  aureum  was  dedicated  at  Antioch  by 
Constantius  in  341  (Socr.  ii.  8 ;  Sozom.  iii.  5). 

The  other  type  of  church  was  that  which  was 
connected  with  the  tombs  of  martyrs  and  other 
saints.  In  the  catacombs  (g.v.)  at  Rome,  and  in 
the  burying-places  (emmeteria,  polyandria)  gener- 
ally, the  custom  gradually  grew  up  (1)  of  keeping 
the  anniversary  of  such  persons'  death  (natalis)  or 
burial  (depositio)  by  a  service  at  their  grave,  their 
very  tombstone  often  forming  the  altar  for  the 
consecration  of  the  Sacred  Elements ;  and  then  (2) 
of  holding  services  there  more  frequently  than 
once  a  year.0  After  a  time  a  church  was  built 
over  the  spot,  and  called  after  the  name  of  the 
martyr  or  confessor  who  lay  buried  under  its 
altar  (hence  the  term  martyrium,  and  the  like, 
applied    to  churches).      As   churches    had   to   be 

1  Cf.  MaH.  Hier.;  D'Achery,  Spieileg.  (Paris,  1655-67)  torn, 
iv.  The  Church  of  S.  Peter  ad  Vincula  on  the  Esquiline  was 
dedicated  in  the  name  of  both  S.  Peter  and  S.  Paul  on  Aug.  1,  in 
the  episcopate  of  Felix  rv.  (432-440).  There  may,  however, 
have  been  some  church-building  there  before  that  date. 

2  Quoted  by  him  at  length  (loc.  eit.  4). 

3  The  Gel.  Sacramentary  (ed.  Wilson,  Oxford,  1894,  p.  140  f.) 
contains  '  orationes  et  preces  in  dedicatione  basilicae  quam 
conditor  non  dedicatam  reliquit,'  and  also  '  [missa]  in  ejusdem 
conditoris  agendis.' 

4  The  mediaeval  cathedral  at  Aix  in  Provence  is  said  to  be 
dedicated  to  the  Transfigured  Saviour ;  and  in  later  times  we 
have  dedications  like  the  Ascension,  Corpus  Christi,  etc.,  or 
even  Holy  Cross,  House  of  Prayer,  and  the  like. 

5  Hence  what  are  called  the  '  stations,'  and  the  '  station  days ' 
of  early  Roman  service-books  and  calendars. 


60 


CONSBCBATION 


more  numerous  than  martyrs'  tombs,  it  also 
became  sufficient  to  have  some  portion  of  a  saint 
or  some  small  personal  relic  of  him  (pignora, 
sanctuaria),  perhaps  only  a  piece  of  linen  dipped 
in  his  blood,  or  even  portions  of  the  Gospel  or 
of  consecrated  bread,  to  represent  or  symbolize 
the  '  patron '  in  each  case ;  and  eventually  this 
second  type  of  church  was  adopted,  though  very 
gradually,  and  not  so  universally  as  is  sometimes 
imagined,  at  all  events  throughout  Western  Chris- 
tendom.1 See,  further,  art.  Commemoration  of 
the  Dead. 

Perhaps  we  may  at  this  point  distinguish  yet  a 
third  type  of  church  of  which  we  sometimes  hear 
in  ancient  history,  viz.  buildings  which  were 
adapted  from  secular  or  heathen  purposes  to 
Christian.  It  used  to  be  held  that  this  was  the 
origin  of  the  basilica  form  of  church,  the  Roman 
law-court  or  business-exchange  being  turned  into 
a  Christian  building  ;  but  this  theory  has  been,  we 
think,  successfully  disproved  of  late  years.2  We 
do,  however,  hear  of  heathen  temples  being  so 
converted,  though  it  is  probable  that  in  many 
cases  the  old  building  was  pulled  down  and  a 
new  one  erected  with  the  old  material ;  e.g.  the 
Pantheon  at  Rome  was  consecrated  by  Boniface 
IV.  (608-614)  under  the  title  of  S.  Mary  ad 
Martyres  on  May  13  ;  and  Martene  (de  Ant.  Ritt., 
Antwerp,  1700,  II.  xiv.  4-5)  gives  other  instances 
in  both  East  and  West.8  Jewish  synagogues  were 
also  subjected  to  the  same  treatment.4 

As  to  the  ceremonies  connected  with  the  dedica- 
tion of  churches,  considerable  diversity  must  have 
prevailed  from  the  first,  if  we  are  to  judge  by  such 
scanty  evidence  as  we  possess ;  and  this  diversity 
lasted  in  the  West  well  into  the  Middle  Ages.  At 
Tyre  in  314,  as  we  have  seen,  the  ceremonial  is  of 
the  simplest ;  a  large  assembly  of  bishops,  clergy, 
and  laity  from  the  town  and  neighbourhood 
assisted  at  the  first  celebration  of  the  Holy 
Mysteries,  and  a  dedicatory  sermon  was  preached. 
More  than  200  years  later  the  essence  of  dedication 
was  still  distinctly  recognized  as  consisting  in  the 
public  celebration  of  the  Holy  Communion  and 
nothing  else.  In  538,  Vigilius,  Bp.  of  Borne,  writes 
to  Profuturus  of  Braga  (in  Spain)  to  the  effect 
that,  in  the  case  of  ordinary  churches,  it  is  not 
even  necessary  to  sprinkle  holy  water  by  way  of 
consecration,6  since  this  is  sufficiently  effected  by 
the  celebration  of  Mass  ;  in  the  case  of  churches  of 
the  second  type  above  described,  the  relies  of 
martyrs  (sanctuaria)  must  be  previously  deposited 
in  the  church,  or,  if  they  have  been  removed,  they 
must  be  replaced.  The  'Leonine'  Sacramentary 
contains  a  '  missa  in  dedicatione  [ecclesiae] ' ;  but 
this  is,  of  course,  for  use  either  after  the  dedicatory 
rite  itself  or  on  the  anniversary  day.6 

It  is  noticeable  that,  while  the  earliest  form  of 

1  See  on  this  point  a  valuable  paper  by  Wickhara  Legg,  in 
no.  lxxiii.  of  Ch.  Hist.  Sac's  Tracts,  p.  53  ff.,  and  another  by  J. 
Wordsworth  in  no.  lii.  of  the  same  series,  p.  19  ff .  (already  quoted). 
Cf.  also  P.  Lejay's  article  on  the  Ambrosian  Rite  in  DACL,  pp. 
1.437-9.  '  I  would  venture  to  suggest  that  the  reason  of  the 
absence  of  the  rite  from  this  [English]  form  of  consecration  was 
that  the  early  British  and  Irish  Churches  only  dedicated  their 
churches  to  living  saints.  In  this  case  no  relics  could  be  had, 
and  therefore  the  rite  was  of  necessity  omitted '  (T.  Olden  on 
the  Leaihar  Breac,  1900,  vol.  iv.  pt.  ii.,  S.  Paul's  Eccl.  Soc. 
p.  99). 

2  E.g.  by  G.  Baldwin  Brown,  From  Schola  to  Cathedral,  App. 
i.  p.  217  ff. 

3  Cf.  Bede,  HE.  i.  30.  _ 

*Cf.  Gel.  Sacram.  p.  141  f.  (ed.  Wilson),  which  gives 
'  orationes  et  preces  in  dedicatione  loci  illius  ubi  prius  fuit 
synagoga.' 

•>  This,  which  is  now  such  an  important  part  of  the  Roman 
rite,  seems  originally  to  have  been  practised  by  Christians  to 
purify  their  private  houses  rather  than  their  churches  (see 
Duchesne,  op.  cit.  p.  407  [quoting  Lib.  Pontif.  i.  127]). 

6  P.  15,  ed.  Feltoe,  Camb.  1896 ;  the  collect  here  speaks  of 
'  hostias  quas  maiestati  tuae  in  honore  beati  apostoli  Petri  cui 
haec  est  basilica  sacrata  deferimus,'  and  each  of  the  other 
lormulae  also  mentions  S.  Peter. 


the  '  Gregorian '  Sacramentary  does  not  provide 
for  the  dedication  of  churches,  the  '  Gelasian  '  does ; 
and  this,  combined  with  other  evidence  or  indica- 
tions given  and  discussed  by  Duchesne  (op.  cit.), 
suggests  that,  in  this  as  in  other  cases,  the  local 
Roman  church  was  originally  inclined  to  a  severe 
simplicity  in  matters  of  ritual,  and  that  the  fuller 
ceremonies  and  forms  of  prayer  which  afterwards 
obtained  and  are  still  in  use  in  the  Roman  Com- 
munion are  traceable  to  foreign  or  '  Gallican ' 
influences.2  It  seems  not  unlikely  also  that  those 
ceremonies  in  the  Western  rite  which  are  distinc- 
tive of  consecration  proper  are  ultimately  derived 
from  the  East  (e.g.  from  the  Byzantine  ritual),  and 
that  only  the  part  relating  to  the  deposition  of 
relics  in  the  new  building  is  originally  Roman. 
The  student  cannot  fail  to  be  struck,  as  Duchesne 
and  others  have  pointed  out,  with  the  fact  that 
this  deposition  of  the  relics,  as  given  in  its  fullest 
form  in  the  two  most  ancient  Ordines  Romani,1 
partakes  distinctly  of  a  funeral  character,  while 
the  '  Gallican '  ceremonies  all  point  to  the  idea  of 
adapting  the  Christian  baptism  of  persons  to  the 
dedication  of  buildings.  The  modern  Roman  ser- 
vice is  a  combination  of  the  two  types  of  ceremony, 
but  in  it  the  deposition  of  the  relics  is  to  some 
extent  outbalanced  and  overshadowed  by  the  con- 
secration rites  proper. 

A  concise  description  in  detail  of  the  regulations 
and  order  of  service  as  now  provided  in  the  Roman 
Pontifical  is  subjoined,  and  will  be  found  useful, 
both  because  it  exhibits  most  of  the  rites  that  have 
gradually  gathered  round  the  occasion  in-  Western 
Christendom,  and  because  it  is  the  basis  on  which, 
since  tne  Reformation,  the  Bishops  of  the  Anglican 
Communion  have,  with  varying  degrees  of  exact- 
ness, drawn  up  their  Consecration  Offices. 

With  regard  to  the  first  point,  it  will  be  well  to  bear  carefully 
in  mind  what  J.  Wordsworth  has  remarked  in  the  valuable 
treatise  (On  the  Rite  of  Consecration,  p.  13)  to  which  reference 
has  already  been  made  :  '  I  conjecture  that  (here),  as  usual,  in 
process  of  time,  diverse  ceremonies  were  heaped  together  with- 
out much  regard  to  their  congruity.'  Wordsworth  makes  this 
remark  with  special  reference  to  the  ceremony  of  the  abece- 
darium  (see  below),  but  one  feels  its  applicability  to  a  good 
deal  of  the  present  overloaded  service.  As  to  post-Reformation 
forms  of  consecration,  the  student  will  find  a  list  of  those  '  in 
use  in  the  17th  century*  on  p.  27  f.  of  the  same  treatise,  and  the 
present  Sarum  Form  on  p.  30  ff.  (with  the  music).  This  is  much 
the  most  satisfactory  adaptation  of  ancient  forms  and  uses, 
Eastern  as  well  as  Western,  that  the  present  writer  is  acquainted 
with.  The  S.P.C.K.  also  publish  the  forms  authorized  for  the 
dioceses  of  London,  Truro,  Worcester,  Wakefield,  and  Win- 
chester ;  and  of  these  the  first  three  more  or  less  follow  the  old 
lines,  whilst  the  last  two  are  based  on  Bp.  Andrewes'  Form 
(1620).  It  may  be  added  that  no  Form  would  seem  to  be  really 
adequate  which  does  not  provide  that  the  consecrating  bishop 
shall  conclude  the  consecration  with  a  solemn  Eucharist,  either 
at  the  time  itself,  or,  if  the  service  take  place  in  the  evening,  at 
a  reasonably  early  hour  the  next  morning.  4  This  provision  is 
made  in  the  Form  of  the  modern  Irish  Church,  and  in  that  of 
the  Church  of  the  United  States  of  America. 

The  similar  description  of  the  modern  Eastern 
rite,  with  which  this  article  concludes,  will  be  like- 
wise interesting  both  in  itself  and  as  illustrating 
much  that  has  been  said  during  the  course  of  our 
discussion. 

i.  Modern  Roman  use.—i.  Preparatory  regu- 
lations.^— (1)  Consecration  may  take  place  any  day, 
but  by  preference  on  Sunday  or  a  Saint's  day. 
(2)  The  archdeacon  is  to  give  notice  of  the  day 
fixed  beforehand.  (3)  The  consecrator,  the  clergy, 
and  the  people  should  fast  before  the  service.  (4) 
On  the  evening  before,  the  consecrating  bishop 
prepares  the  relics  which  are  to  be  deposited  in  the 
church,  placing  them  under  seal  in  a  suitable 
casket,  with  three  grains  of  frankincense  and  a 
written  record  of  the  consecration,  and  laying  the 

1  P.  133  ff.,  ed.  Wilson. 

2  On  this  point,  see  E.  Bishop,  Genius  of  the  Roman  Rite, 
1899  ;  and  Wickham  Legg,  Rec.  Lit.  Research,  p.  3  ff. 

3  One,  that  of  S.  Amand  (Paris,  974)  of  the  late  7th  cent, 
printed  by  Duchesne  (op.  cit.  p.  456  ff.) ;  the  other,  that  ol 
Verona,  edited  by  F.  Bianchini  (Anast.  Biblioth.  iii.  48). 

4  See  Wordsworth's  remarks  (op.  cit.  p.  9  f.). 


CONSECRATION 


61 


casket  on  a  bier  with  lighted  candles  under  a  tent 
before  the  principal  door.1  Vigil  is  kept,  and 
Nocturns  and  Lauds  are  sung  before  the  relics  that 
night.2  (5)  Inside  the  church  a  large  number  of 
articles  have  to  be  prepared  for  various  purposes 
during  the  service,  and  care  has  to  be  taken  that 
the  church  has  a  free  passage  round  it  outside. 
(6)  On  the  morning  of  the  day  itself  the  bishop 
enters  the  church  in  ordinary  dress,  and  sees  that 
everything  is  in  order,  and  that  the  12  candles  over 
the  12  consecration  crosses  on  the  inner  walls  are 
lighted.8  He  then  leaves  the  church  empty,  save 
for  one  deacon  vested  in  amice,  alb,  girdle,  and 
white  stole,  who  stands  behind  the  principal  door, 
when  it  is  closed  upon  him. 

2.  The  ceremony. — (1)  The  service  proper  is  now 
begun.  The  bishop,  having  fully  vested  himself, 
and  being  attended  by  another  deacon,  a  sub- 
deacon,  acolytes,  and  other  ministers,  goes  to  the 
place  where  the  relics  are  reposing,  and  the  seven 
Penitential  Psalms  are  recited.  He  then  proceeds 
to  a  faldstool  before  the  church  door,  and,  kneeling 
there,  after  an  antiphon  and  collect  ('  Actiones 
nostras,  quaesumus,  Domine,'  etc.),4  says  with  the 
choir  the  first  portion  of  the  Litany. 

(2)  The  next  ceremony  is  the  exorcizing  and 
blessing  of  salt  and  water,  which,  being  afterwards 
mixed  and  again  blessed,  are  made  use  of  in  the 
following  manner  :  First  the  bishop  sprinkles  him- 
self and  his  assistants,  whilst  the  choir  sing  the 
usual  antiphon,  'Asperges  me,'  etc.;  he  then 
marches  three  times,  preceded  by  two  candle- 
bearers,  round  the  outside  of  the  church,  sprinkling 
the  walls  as  he  goes,6  the  choir  singing  an  appro- 
priate responsory ;  each  time  he  reaches  the 
principal  door,  he  first  kneels  and  says  a  collect, 
and  then  performs  this  very  ancient  and  dramatic 
ceremony  : 6  he  stands  on  the  threshold  and  strikes 
the  door  with  the  butt  end  of  his  staff,7  saying, 
'Attollite  portas,  principes,  vestras,'  etc.  (Ps  23' 
Vulg.);  the  deacon  from  within  (see  above)  in- 
quires, in  the  words  of  ver.  8,  '  Quis  est  iste  rex 
gloriae  ? '  and  the  bishop  answers,  '  Dominus  fortis 
et  potens,'  etc.  ;  at  the  third  time  those  who  stand 
by  call  out  '  Aperite,'  the  bishop  makes  the  sign  of 
the  cross  on  the  threshold,  the  door  is  opened,  and 
the  procession  passes  in,  the  bishop  proclaiming, 
'  Pax  huic  domui,'  and  the  deacon  from  within 
replying,  '  In  introitu  vestro.' 

(3)  Whilst  the  bishop  goes  to  the  centre  of  the 
building,  two  antiphons  are  sung,  the  use  of  the 
second  of  which  is  very  ancient,  '  Zacchaee,  fes- 
tinans  descende '  (see  above).  Then,  during  the 
singing  of  the  '  Veni,  Creator  Spiritus,'  one  of 
the  ministers  sprinkles  ashes"  in  the  form  of  a 

1  This  is  most  conveniently  the  west  door,  if  the  structure 
has  one. 

2  All  this  is  in  accordance  with  very  ancient  use,  probably 
Galilean  (see  Sacramentary  of  Dragon,  Bishop  of  Metz  [826-855], 
quoted  by  Duchesne,  op.  tit.  p.  487  ff.,  and  described  by 
Delisle,  Mim.  sur  d'anciens  sacramentaires,  Paris,  1886, 
p.  100  ff.). 

3  Galilean.  These  crosses  are  still  often  to  be  found  in  our 
English  churches.  'It  is  said  that  the  English  use  differed 
from  the  foreign  in  having  crosses  both  within  and  without. 
The  Irish  use  shows  its  primitive  character  in  ordering  the 
crosseB  to  be  cut  with  a  knife,  no  doubt  on  wooden  posts,' 
etc.  (J.  Wordsworth,  op.  cit.  p.  16  ;  cf.  Wickham  Legg,  op.  tit. 
p.  54). 

4  Pontifical  of  Egbert,  1853  (Surtees  Soc),  Benedictional  of 
Archbp.  Robert  (H.  Bradshaw  Soc);  cf.  Gel.  Sacr.  (p.  327,  ed. 
Wilson,  1894).  The  antiphon  now  is  '  Adeste,  Deus  unus  omni- 
potens,'  etc.  ;  in  the  above-named  Pontificals  it  is  '  Zacchsee, 
festinans  descende,'  etc.,  which  now  comes  later  in  the  ser- 
vice. 

6  This  is  the  first  of  two  sprinklings  that  occur ;  see  note  1 
on  next  col.  for  comments  on  the  origin  of  the  practice. 

8  Gallican.  Egb.  Pont.,  Bened.  of  Archbp.  Robt.,  etc. 

7  The  earliest  word  for  '  staff '  here  is  cambuca  (or  cambuta), 
1  shepherd's  crook,'  perhaps  derived  from  Kafinreiv. 

8  The  introduction  of  ashes  on  which  to  write  looks  very  like 
a  later  artifice  to  enable  the  '  bishop  to  do  something  which  at 
first  he  would  have  been  a?)le  *"o  do  without  difficulty'  (J. 
WordBworth). 


S.  Andrew's  cross  (decussis)  on  the  floor  of  the  nave, 
thus  : 


The  second  part  of  the  Litany  is  next  said  to  the 
end,  but  with  special  petitions  by  the  bishop,  stand- 
ing, for  the  church  and  its  altar  now  in  act  of 
being  consecrated.  After  this  the  bishop  says  two 
collects,  the  second  an  ancient  one  ( '  Magnificare, 
Domine,'  etc.),2  and  then,  whilst  the  choir  sings 
the  song  of  Zaeharias  (Lk  l685-),  with  antiphon  '  O 
quam  metuendus,'  etc.,  between  every  two  verses, 
he  occupies  himself  in  writing  with  the  end  of  his 
stafi'  the  letters  of  the  Greek  alphabet  on  the  cross 
aforesaid,  from  the  left  Western  corner  to  the 
opposite  Eastern  corner,  and  of  the  Latin  alphabet 
from  right  to  left. 8 

(4)  This  done,  the  bishop  approaches  within  a 
fair  distance  {spatio  conpruenti)  of  the  high  altar, 
and  says  three  times  :  '  Deus,  in  adiutorium  meum 
intende,  K7  Domine,  ad  adiuvandum  me  festina,' 
with  the  '  Gloria  Patri.'  Hereupon  salt  and  water 
are  for  a  second  time  exorcized  and  blessed  (with 
new  formulae)  ;  ashes  also  are  blessed  and  mixed 
with  the  salt  and  water ;  then  wine  is  blessed  and 
added  to  the  mixture.4  Finally,  two  prayers  are 
uttered :  (i. )  that  the  Holy  Spirit  may  be  sent 
down  upon  the  mixture  ;6  and  (ii.)  that  all  kinds  of 

1  The  origin  of  this  rite,  which  is  probably  Gallican,  has 
puzzled  the  learned.  It  has  been  connected  with  the  cross 
drawn  by  the  Roman  augurs  in  laying  out  a  templum,  and  by  the 
surveyors  (agrimensores)  in  measuring  out  land  for  a  colony  (e.g. 
de  Rossi,  Bullet,  di  archeol.  Christ.,  1881,  p.  140  ff.).  The  appli- 
cation of  the  second  usage  is  approved  by  Duchesne  (op.  cit. 
p.  417),  and  by  H.  le  Clercq  and  P.  Lejay  (J) ACL,  p.  68, 1438). 
On  the  other  hand,  Wordsworth  (op.  tit.  p.  11  ff.)  criticizes  the 
applicability  of  either  usage  to  the  rite  in  question.  The  sur- 
veyor's cross  was,  he  says,  '  one  of  4  right  angles,'  '  like  the  St. 
George's  cross  on  our  flags,  cutting  the  four  sides  into  equal 
portions,'  and  the  letters  they  used  were  in  no  way  attached  to 
these  lines,  but '  scattered  all  about  the  plans.'  It  is  therefore, 
of  the  two,  more  likely  that  the  peculiar  Christian  rite  came 
from  '  a  vague  memory '  of  the  old  laying  out  of  a  heathen 
temple  than  from  the  other  ;  and  he  prefers  de  Rossi's  sugges- 
tion that  the  figure  is  really  a  Greek  x  and  the  initial  of  our 
Lord's  name  in  that  language.  '  To  write  His  name  '  symbolic- 
ally upon  the  new  church  floor  '  would  be  a  very  fitting  mark  of 
His  ownership.'  He  further  conjectures  that  the  ceremony 
originally  belonged  to  the  laying  out  of  the  first  sketch  or 
foundation  of  the  building  rather  than  to  the  actual  consecration 
(see  note  6  above) ;  cf.  the  Gr.  <no.vpoirfyyiov  and  the  modern  lay- 
ing of  the  foundation-stone.  The  antiphon, '  Fundamentum  aliud 
nemo  potest,'  etc.,  and  the  Psalm  86,  '  Fundamenta  eius,'  etc., 
which  are  found  at  this  point  in  Bened.  of  Archbp.  Robt.,  tend 
to  corroborate  the  view  suggested.  It  may  be  added  that 
the  ceremony,  as  at  present  practised,  is  rather  ineffective, 
and  does  not  appear  to  fit  at  all  well  into  the  rest  of  the 
service. 

2  Duchesne  thinks  that  this  and  two  other  prayers  which  occur 
later  on  (Deus  qui  loca,  etc,  and  Deus  sanctificationum,  etc.) 
may  have  been  borrowed  by  the  Gallican  Rite  from  some  Roman 
Missa  Dedicationis.  This  first  one  occurs  in  the  Gelasian  Sa- 
cram.  (p.  140,  ed.  Wilson)  in  such  a  Missa,  but  in  the  Missal  of 
Gellone,  Egb.  Pont.,  Greg.  (472  Mur.),  etc.,  in  the  same  place  as 
now.  The  other  two  are  both  found  in  Pont,  of  Egbert  and 
Bened.  of  Archbp.  Robt. 

3  In  some  earl3r  Sacramentaries  it  seems  as  if  the  Latin  alpha- 
bet was  written  on  both  the  intersecting  lines,  and  we  hear  also 
of  the  Hebrew  alphabet  being  likewise  sometimes  used.  To 
Wordsworth  (op.  cit.  p.  12)  '  the  alphabet  seems  to  be  another 
symbol  of  Christ  as  the  word  of  God,  not  only  Alpha  and  Omega, 
but  all  that  lies  between, — every  element,  in  fact,  of  humaD 
speech.' 

4  This  holy  water  is  technically  called  in  later  times  '  Gre 
gorian,'  as  though  instituted  by  Gregory  the  Great ;  its  use  seems 
to  have  been  common  to  both  the  Roman  and  the  '  Gallican ' 
Rites,  though  in  the  letter  of  Bp.  Vigilius  to  Profuturus  (a.d. 
538)  it  is  mentioned  only  to  be  disapproved  of  ('  nihil  iudicamus 
officere  si  per  earn  [ecclesiam]  minime  aqua  exorcizata  iactetur '). 
The  ordo  of  Verona  (see  note  3  on  p.  60b)  mentions  the  use  at  tM 
end  of  the  service,  but  this  may  be  a  later  addition. 

6  Gell.,  Egb.  Pont.,  Bened.  of  Archbp.  Robt..  etc. 


62 


CONSECRATION 


benefits  typified  by  it  may  accrue  to  the  newly 
consecrated  building.  The  bishop  then  signs  the 
inside  of  the  church  door  with  two  crosses,  using 
his  staff',  and  uttering  another  prayer  suitable  to 
the  action.  Returning  to  his  former  position,  he 
invites  the  congregation  to  pray  for  a  blessing  upon 
the  building,  '  per  aspersionem  huius  aquae  cum 
vino,  sale  et  cinere  mixtae.' ' 

(5)  Consecration  of  the  altar. — The  choir  begins 
by  singing  Psalm  92  ('  Judica  me,'  etc.),  with  the 
antiphon  ('Introibo,'  etc.),2  while  the  bishop, 
standing  before  the  altar,  dips  his  thumb  into  the 
'  Gregorian '  water  and  makes  a  cross  first  in  the 
middle  of  the  mensa  and  then  at  each  of  its  four 
corners,  saying,  '  Sanctificetur  hoc  altare,'  etc., 
each  time.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  introit,  the 
bishop,  having  said  the  prayer  'Singulare  illud,' 
etc.,  goes  seven  times  round  the  altar,  sprinkling 
the  holy  water  with  a  branch  of  hyssop,  whilst  the 
antiphon  ('  Asperges,'  etc.)  and  Psalm  50  ('  Miserere 
mei,'  etc.)  are  said.8 

(6)  All  the  walls  and  pavements  of  the  church 
inside  are  sprinkled  in  the  same  manner  three 
times,  during  the  singing  of  Psalms  121,  67,  and 
90,  with  various  antiphons.  Two  prayers4  (both 
ancient)  and  a  preface  follow,  the  bishop  standing 
with  his  face  towards  the  door. 

(7)  The  bishop  now  goes  up  once  more  to  the 
altar,  mixes  some  cement  with  holy  water,  which 
he  duly  blesses,  and  throws  what  remains  of  the 
water  away  at  the  base  of  the  altar. 

(8)  His  next  duty  is  to  go  and  bring  the  relics 
solemnly  to  their  new  resting-place  in,  or  under, 
the  altar  that  has  been  prepared  for  them.5  This 
he  does  with  much  ceremony  while  the  choir  sings 
Psalm  94  ('Venite,  exultemus,'  etc.),  with  several 
antiphons.  But,  before  entering  the  church  with 
his  sacred  burden,  he  carries  it  once  round  the 
building  outside,  and  delivers  a  set  oration  at  the 
principal  door,  on  the  duty  of  treating  churches 
with  reverence  6  and  on  the  importance  of  endow- 
ments, after  which  the  archdeacon  reads  two 
decrees  of  the  Council  of  Trent.  The  bishop  next 
addresses  the  founder  of  the  church  as  to  his 
intentions  in  maintaining  it  and  the  clergy  at- 
tached to  it,  and,  on  being  satisfied  with  regard 
to  them,7  asks  for  the  people's  prayers  on  his 
behalf,  whereupon  the  responsory  ('  Erit  mihi 
Dominus  in  Deum,'  etc.,  Gn  2821-22)  is  sung.  The 
bishop  also  signs  the  outside  of  the  door  with 
chrism,  which  he  has  brought  down  with  him  from 
the  sanctuary.  At  last  the  procession  enters  the 
church  itself  bearing  the  relics,  while  Psalms  149 
and  150  are  sung,  with  various  antiphons.  After 
a  collect  ('  Beus,  qui  in  omni  loco,'  etc. ),8  the  bishop 

1  This  ceremony  seems  to  be  somewhat  delayed  by  the  intru- 
sion of  the  consecration  of  the  High  Altar  and  others  if  required, 
though,  no  doubt,  that  ceremony  consists  in  part  of  sprinkling 
with  the  water. 

2  The  usual  introit  at  Mass. 

3  The  rite  may  be  derived  from  the  Christian  practice  of 
Bprinkling  holy  water  in  their  dwellings  (see  Duchesne,  op.  cit. 
p.  407,  and  cf.  Gel.  Sacr.  p.  285  ff.  [ed.  Wilson],  which  provides 
two  forms  of  '  Benedictio  aquae  spargendae  in  domo ').  See  note 
5  on  p.  60°-  above. 

4  These  are  the  prayers  mentioned  in  note  2  on  p.  61b  above. 
The  preface  is  in  Pont.  Egb.  and  Bened.  ofArchbp.  Robt. 

5  It  seems  probable  that  this  might  at  one  time  take  place  on 
another  day  or  even,  as  has  already  been  mentioned,  not  at  all 
in  certain  cases.  In  the  Ambr.  Pontifical  (ed.  Magistretti, 
Milan,  1897),  Pont.  Egb.,  and  Bened.  of  Archbp.  Robt.,  the  de- 
position of  relics  is  placed  later  in  the  service, Rafter  the  blessing 
of  the  linen  and  other  apparatus ;  in  the  Pontifical  of  Dunstan 
there  is  a  separate  heading  here:  'Incipit  ordo  quomodo  in 
sancta  Romana  ecclesia  reliquiae  conduntur ' ;  and  similar  evi- 
dence is  supplied  by  other  Pontificals ;  see  Dewick's  remarks  in 
a  footnote  to  Wordsworth,  op.  cit.  p.  22. 

6  For  an  early  instance  of  reverence  for  churches  in  a  hitherto 
neglected  portion  of  Christendom,  cf.  canons  38  and  68  of  Rab- 
bula,  Bp.  of  Edessa(A.D.  411-435),  quoted  by  F.  C.  Burkitt,  Early 
Eastern  Christianity,  London,  1904,  p.  148  f. 

7  All  these  (exhortation,  decrees,  and  address)  or  any  of  them 
may  be  omitted  now. 

•  Bened.  ofArchbp.  Robt,  Greg.  (481  Mur.),  etc. 


first  signs  with  chrism  the  receptacle J  in  which  the 
relics  are  to  be  laid,  and  then  places  the  vessel 
containing  them  therein.2  While  the  antiphon 
'  Sub  altare  Dei,'  etc.,  is  sung,  he  censes  the  relics, 
and  fixes  with  the  cement  he  has  previously  pre- 
pared (see  above)  the  slab  upon  the  confessio. 
Further  antiphons  are  sung,  and  other  collect! 
('  Deus  qui  ex  omni  cohabitatione  [or  coaptione],' ! 
etc.,  and  '  Dirigatur  orafcio  nostra,'  etc.)  are  said 
while  this  work  is  carefully  completed. 

(9)4  The  mensa  altaris  (i.e.  the  upper  slab)  ia 
then  censed,  anointed,  and  blessed  with  a  number 
of  antiphons,  collects,  and  Psalms  (83,  91,  44,  45, 
and  86).  In  this  part  of  the  ceremony  oleum  cate- 
chumenorum  as  well  as  sanctum  chrisma  is  used 
for  anointing,  to  typify  the  right  of  confirmation 
as  the  completion  of  the  initiatory  rite. 

(10)  After  this  the  12  consecration  crosses  on  the 
inner  walls  of  the  building  (see  above)  are  each 
separately  visited  to  be  anointed,  censed,  and 
blessed,  after  the  singing  of  Ps  147,  an  antiphon, 
and  two  responsories. 

(11)  Incense  is  now  specially  blessed,  and  has 
then  by  the  bishop's  own  hands  to  be  formed  into 
5  crosses,  placed  with  holy  water,  oil,  chrism,  and 
wax  on  the  5  crosses  of  the  mensa,  and  lighted  with 
antiphons  and  prayer  ('Domine  sancte,'  etc.).5 
The  ashes  are  carefully  removed,  the  bishop  says 
another  prayer  and  preface,6  and  Ps  67  is  sung, 
with  an  antiphon.  The  altar  is  yet  again  anointed 
in  silence,  and,  after  two  more  prayers  ('Majes- 
tatem  tuam,'  etc.,7  and  '  Supplices  te  deprecamur,' 
etc.),  the  bishop  goes  to  his  throne  nearthe  altar 
and  cleanses  his  hands  with  bread,  while  the  sub- 
deacons  wipe  the  mensa  with  coarse  towels. 

(12)  The  other  vessels  and  ornaments  of  the 
church  and  altar  are  then  similarly  dedicated  with 
antiphons,  responsories,  Ps  62,  and  collects,  and 
at  last,  when  the  altar  has  been  properly  vested 
and  prepared,  the  Missa  dedicationis  is  solemnly 
celebrated. 

At  the  end  of  the  service  the  ashes  on  which  the 
alphabet  was  traced  are  removed,  and  the  whole 
church  is  cleansed. 

ii.  Modern  Eastern  Kirs.— For  this  we  must 
take  the  Orthodox  Greek  Church  as  the  norm. 
Here  there  is  a  general  resemblance  to  the  Western 
rite  ;  but,  though  there  has  been  a  certain  amount 
of  elaboration  introduced  into  the  service  during 
the  last  200  years,8— partly,  perhaps,  in  the  direc- 
tion of  assimilation  to  Western  usage,9 — yet  it  is, 
on  the  whole,  a  simpler  ceremony,  and  there  are 
important  divergencies. 

To  begin  with,  there  is  a  short  and  simple  form 

1  This  is  now  called  '  confessio,  id  est,  sepulchrum  altaris. 
The  term  confessio  is  found  also  in  many  early  books ;  it  is 
equivalent  to  rnartyrium,  and  means  the  hollow  place  beneath 
the  altar  which  is  still  to  be  seen  in  some  of  the  oldest  Roman 
churches,  and  which  is  the  origin  of  the  later  and  larger  crypts, 
marking  the  place  of  burial  of  the  martyrs  over  whom  the  church 
was  first  raised. 

2  The  only  direction  now  is  that  this  should  be  done  '  veneran- 
ter.'but  in  the  Ambr.  Pontif.  and  Pont,  of  Egb.,  as  also  in  Greg. 
(481  Mur.),  the  rubric  requires  that  a  veil  should  be  stretched 
in  front  of  the  altar  at  this  point  (*  extenso  velo  inter  eos  [sc. 
clericos]  et  populum  ')■  Both  the  Bened.  of  Archbp.  Robt.  and 
the  Pont.  Egb.  characterize  a  prayer  at  this  part  of  the  service  as 
'oratio  post  velatum  altare,'  but  it  is  not  quite  clear  whether 
the  word  does  not  here  mean  '  vested '  rather  than  '  veiled.' 
What  this  veil  was  which  Duchesne  considers  '  Gallican  '  is  un- 
certain ;  perhaps  it  was  only  the  ordinary  altar  curtain,  which 
there  is  reason  to  believe  used  to  be  drawn  before  the  altar  at 
the  consecration  in  the  Mass  (see  Wickham  Legg,  op.  cit.  p.  9). 

"  Gel.  (p.  139,  ed.  Wilson)  and  Greg.  (482  Mur.),  Bened.  of 
Archbp  Robt.,  etc. 

4  Sections  (9),  (10),  and  (11)  Beem  each  to  be  of  '  Gallican ' 
origin. 

5  Greg.  (486  Mur.). 

6  Both  of  these  are  found  in  Greg.  (484-6  Mur.)  and  Bened.  of 
Archbp.  Robt. 

7  Greg.  (486  Mur.)  and  Bened.  of  Archbp.  Robt. 

8  See  Neale,  Gen.  Introd.  to  Hist,  of  East.  Ch.,  London,  I860, 
p.  1043,  etc. 

9  But  see  what  is  said  on  p.  60b  above. 


CONSECRATION 


63 


provided  for  laying  a  foundation-stone.  This  con- 
sists of  first  censing  the  site,  the  choir  going  in 
procession  with  the  bishop  round  the  foundations, 
singing  the  diroKwliaa  of  the  saint  in  whose  name 
the  church  is  to  be  dedicated.  Then,  after  a  prayer 
on  the  site  of  the  future  altar,  the  bishop  takes  a 
stone,  makes  the  sign  of  the  cross  with  it,  and  lays 
it  somewhere  on  the  foundation,  saying,  '  God  is  in 
the  midst  of  thee,'  etc. 

In  due  time,  when  the  church  is  built  and  ready 
for  use,  the  dedication  (iyKalna)  itself  takes  place. 
The  following  articles  have  to  be  prepared  before- 
hand :  4  drams  of  pure  wax,  20  drams  each  of 
mastic,  myrrh,  aloes,  incense,  resin,  and  ladanum, 
2  vessels,  some  paper  and  twine,  a  litre  of  finely 
powdered  marble,  relics  of  martyrs  with  a  little 
silver  receptacle,  holy  chrism,  10  cubits  of  linen 
cloth,  2  napkins,  4  pieces  of  white  soap,  a  new- 
sponge,  a  vessel  of  wine,  4  pieces  of  cloth  em- 
broidered with  the  figures  or  names  of  the  Evangel- 
ists, the  KaraaipKwv'-  and  as  many  avrifdvaia2  as 
the  bishop  intends  to  consecrate  (see  below, 
p.  63"). 

Then,  on  the  evening  before  the  day  fixed  for  the 
consecration,  the  bishop  and  clergy  meet  in  the 
new  church.  The  relics  are  placed  upon  the  81<tkos 
(paten)  in  three  parts  on  the  altar,  and  covered 
with  the  d<TTe/>(<7Kos  and  the  6,-qp.  A  short  service 
is  conducted,  consisting  of  the  Blessing,  the  Tris- 
agion,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  certain  rpon-ipta,  and  the 
Dismissal  (d.7r6Xwris). 

Next,  if  the  church  is  to  be  fully  dedicated  (i.e. 
not  as  a  mere  oratory  or  for  temporary  use),8  the 
relics  are  taken  out  into  some  neighbouring  conse- 
crated church,  and  laid  upon  the  altar  there ; 
otherwise,  this  adjournment  does  not  take  place, 
and  whatever  service  there  is,  is  performed  in  the 
new  building.  Vigil  is  kept  that  night  in  presence 
of  the  relics.  (1)  There  is  a  special  io-iripivos 
(Vespers),  with  proper  I8i6pe\a  and  three  proper 
lessons  (viz.  1  K  822"61,  Ezk  4327-444,  and  Pr  31"-36). 
(2)  Later  on,  again,  there  is  a  special  6pdp6s  (Lauds), 
in  which  the  Gospel  is  that  of  the  saint  of  the 
dedication  ;  the  proper  canon,  with  its  nine  odes, 
is  attributed  to  John  of  Damascus.  This  service  is 
concluded  with  the  great  Doxology. 

Next  day,  after  a  short  rest,  the  bishop  and 
clergy  assemble  once  more  in  the  new  church.  In 
one  vessel  the  wax,  mastic,  etc.,  are  all  melted 
together  in  a  fire.  In  the  other  water  is  heated. 
The  mensa  is  taken  off  its  supporting  pillars,  and 
paper  is  wrapped  round  the  latter,  projecting  an 
inch  above  the  top,  so  as  to  hold  the  powdered 
marble  when  it  is  poured  in.  Thereupon  the  priest 
begins  the  office  of  the  Prothesis,  while  the  bishop 
proceeds  to  the  old  church,  where  he  dons  his 
episcopal  robes,  and  orders  the  Liturgy  proper  to 
be  begun.  A  procession  is  formed,  in  which  the 
people  carry  lighted  tapers,  the  clergy  the  Gospels, 
and  the  bishop  the  relics  on  his  head.  They  start 
for  the  new  church,  singing  various  Tpoirapia,  and 
marching  round  the  precincts,  till  they  reach  the 
doors,  outside  which  the  relics  are  deposited  on  the 
TcrpairdStov.4  After  the  vpoKelfievov,  the  Epistle 
((br^ToXos ;  He  2"-"-"1)  and  the  Gospel  (Mt  1613-20) 
are  read. 
After  this,  another  procession  takes  place  round 

1  A  linen  cloth,  the  length  of  the  Holy  Table,  forming  the 
middle  one  of  its  three  coverings. 

2  The  bottom  cloth  upon  the  Holy  Table  is  so  called.  The 
natural  derivation  of  the  word  would  be  as  if  it  were  a  substitute 
(aim)  for  the  mensa,  and  this  seems  to  accord  with  the  use  of 
the  article ;  but  it  is  always  spelt  with  i,  not  e,  and  p.lvo-os  is  said 
to  be  a  canister  (Neale,  op.  cit.  p.  186). 

3  The  word  for  this  is  evreOpovio-ixtvos,  which  is  said  to  imply 
the  setting  up  of  the  biBhop's  throne  in  it,  because  every  church 
in  his  diocese  is  potentially  his  cathedral,  and  becomes  so  for  the 
time  when  he  is  present  (see  Neale,  op.  cit.  p.  1043,  note,  and 
Fortescue,  Orth.  East.  Ch. ,  London,  1907,  p.  404,  note  2). 

4  This  four-legged  table  usually  stands  near  the  iconastasis  for 
the  use  of  the  clergy  (see  Neale,  op.  cit.  p.  1044). 


the  outside  of  the  church,  whilst  they  sing  the  3rd 
ode  of  the  canon  mentioned  at  6p8p6s  above.  This 
is  followed  by  a  second  Epistle  (He  91"8)  and  Gospel 
(Lk  lO38-8-"). 

For  a  third  time  they  march  round  the  walls, 
while  the  6th  ode  of  the  canon  is  sung.  Then  the 
relics  are  laid  upon  the  TCTpa.ir68i.ov  as  before,  the 
bishop  prays,  and  a  TpoirdpLov  is  sung.  Standing 
before  the  closed  church  doors,  the  clergy  sing 
Ps  24,ff-,  some  from  within  demanding  'Who  is 
the  King  of  Glory?'  and  those  without  answering.1 
Thereupon  the  doors  are  thrown  open,  and  the 
procession  enters  the  church ;  the  bishop,  passing 
up  the  nave,  solemnly  places  the  relics  in  their 
receptacle,  pours  chrism  on  them,  and  prays.  The 
powdered  marble  and  the  hot  mixture  of  wax  and 
other  ingredients  are  then  poured  round  the  base 
and  at  the  top  of  the  pillars  of  the  altar,  and  the 
mensa  is  securely  replaced  and  fixed  thereon. 
While  the  cement  cools  and  dries,  Pss  145  and 
23  are  sung. 

They  then  swathe  the  bishop  in  the  10  cubits  of 
linen  which  have  been  provided,  and  fasten  the 
2  napkins  over  his  arms,  so  that  his  vestments  are 
entirely  protected  from  being  soiled  in  the  cere- 
monies which  ensue.2  After  this  he  kneels  down 
(this  being  an  unusually  solemn  attitude  for  prayer 
in  the  East)  and  recites  a  long  prayer  of  dedication, 
and  the  deacon  says  the  litany  (eVi-ex-q).  Then  the 
bishop  washes  the  mensa,  first  with  the  soap  and 
warm  water  during  the  singing  of  Ps  84,  next 
with  the  wine3  while  Ps  517ff-  is  sung,  using 
the  ivn/ilvcria  to  wipe  it  off;  lastly,  he  makes 
three  crosses  with  the  chrism  (or  oil)  on  the  mensa, 
spreading  the  oil  from  them  all  over  the  top,  and 
also  on  the  pillars,  while  Ps  133  is  being  sung. 

The  vesting  of  the  altar  next  takes  place.  At 
the  corners  of  the  mensa  the  4  cloths  with  the 
Evangelists'  names  or  figures  on  them  are  fixed 
with  the  cement ;  over  them  the  Ka.Tao-6.pKt.ov,  with 
its  four  tassels  at  the  corners,  is  spread,  during  the 
singing  of  Ps  132  ;  then,  after  washing  his  hands, 
the  bishop  takes  the  outer  covering  (called  iire  vovttjs) 
and  unfolds  it  over  the  mensa  while  they  sing  Ps  93. 
Lastly,  he  takes  all  the  new  avri/ilvoia  which  are  to 
be  consecrated,  and  spreads  them  out,  one  on  top 
of  the  other,  on  the  altar  ;  and  on  the  top  of  all  he 
puts  an  avTi/xtvo-iov  which  has  already  been  conse- 
crated ;  meanwhile  Ps  26  is  sung. 

After  this,  first  the  altar,  then  the  whole  church, 
is  censed.  Next  the  &vrt/dv<ria  are  anointed,  where 
they  lie,  with  chrism  into  which  the  relics  or  some- 
thing which  has  been  in  contact  with  them  have 
been  pounded,  so  as  to  communicate  their  virtues 
to  the  avTi/ilvo-ia.  Each  pillar  in  the  body  of  the 
church  is  likewise  anointed  with  the  sign  of  the 
cross.  The  deacon  says  a  a-mami],  and  the  bishop 
recites  another  long  prayer.  Finally,  the  Liturgy 
proceeds  to  the  end  as  usual,  the  Epistle  now  being 
He  31"4,  and  the  Gospel  Jn  1022'- 

The  Liturgy  must  be  repeated  for  7  successive 
days  on  the  new  altar,  and  the  new  avri/Mtvcna 
remain  there  as  before.  After  that  they  are  all 
regarded  as  fully  consecrated,  and  may  be  dis- 
tributed as  occasion  requires.4 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  at  a  consecration  chief 
stress  is  laid  on  [a)  the  erection  of  the  altar  in  the 
new  church,  and  (6)  the  hallowing  of  the  dci-iuWia, 
which  can   never  be  a    separate  service,   and   is 

1  Neale  (op.  cit.  p.  1044,  note)  thinks  this  dramatic  way  of 
singing  these  verses  is  a  modern  interpolation  from  the  Roman 
rite,  and  that  it  was  not  known  to  Goar  or  his  editors  in  the  17th 
or  early  ISth  century.    But  this  is  somewhat  doubtful. 

2  S.  Simon  of  Thessalonica  interprets  this  as  symbolizing  the 
grave-cloths  of  our  Lord  (see  Neale,  in  loc). 

3  It  has  been  suggested  as  probable  that  a  blooming  vine-spray 
or  rose-branch  was  originally  used  at  this  point,  and  that  the  idea 
of  the  wine  was  borrowed  from  the  West. 

4  Their  proper  position  in  future  is  below  the  KarairaftKiov,  next 
to  the  surface  of  the  mensa  itself. 


64 


CONSENT 


peculiar  to  the  East.  The  Syrians,  however,  are 
said  to  use  slabs  of  wood  instead  of  cloths  for  this 
purpose,  and  in  cases  of  necessity  permit  the 
Eucharist  to  be  offered  on  a  leaf  of  the  Gospels,  or 
even  on  the  hands  of  a  deacon.1 

See  also  Anointing,  Eucharist,  King,  Ordina- 
tion, Priest,  Sacrament,  Sanctification. 

Literature. — G.  Baldwin  Brown,  From  Schola  to  Cathedral, 
London,  1886 ;  Caspari,  art. '  Kirchweihe,'  in  PRE3  ;  Duchesne, 
Origines  du  culte  chrdtien,  Paris,  1889  [Eng.  tr.,  Christian  Wor- 
ship, 1903],  oh.  xii. ;  H.  le  Clercq  in  DACL,  p.  58 ;  P.  Lejay, 
ib.  p.  1437  ff.  ;  H.  F.  Stewart,  Invoc.  of  Saints,  London,  1907, 
Appendix,  p.  108  ff. ;  J.  Wickham  Leggr,  Three  Chapters  in 
Bee.  Lit.  Research  (Ch.  Hist.  Soc  Ixxiii.),  1903 ;  J.  Words- 
worth, On  the  Rite  of  Consecration  of  Churches  (Ch.  Hist.  Soc. 
lit),  1899 ;  J.  M.  Neale,  General  Introduction  to  History  of 
Eastern  Church,  1850 ;  A.  Fortescue,  Orthodox  Eastern  Church, 
London,  1907  ;  G.  Horner,  Coptic  Consecration  of  Church  and 
Altar,  London,  1902.  C.  L.  FELTOE. 

CONSENT. — The  usual  meaning  of  the  noun 
'  consent '  is  voluntary  agreement  to,  or  acquies- 
cence in,  another's  proposal.  The  verb  is  used 
similarly  :  '  to  consent '  is  voluntarily  to  accede  to, 
or  acquiesce  in,  what  another  proposes  or  desires  ; 
to  agree,  comply ,  yield.  The  original  meaning  of 
the  word  (from  Lat.  consentire  ='  to  feel,  think, 
judge,  etc.,  together')  is  almost  obsolete.  It  is 
rarely  used  to  denote  agreement  in  sentiment, 
opinion,  or  judgment,  though  this  meaning  is  pre- 
served in  the  phrases  '  common  consent,'  '  universal 
consent '  (consensus  gentium).  Thus  we  find  it  in 
Sidgwick's  Methods  of  Ethics*  (1901),  bk.  i.  ch.  viii. 
§  3.  We  are  led,  he  says,  to  endeavour  to  set  at 
rest  doubts  as  to  the  validity  of  the  particular  moral 
judgments  of  men  '  by  appealing  to  general  rules, 
more  firmly  established  on  a  basis  of  common  con- 
sent.' And  in  Matthew  Arnold's  Mixed  Essays, 
1879  ( '  Equality '),  we  find  the  sentence  :  '  As  to  the 
duty  of  pursuing  equality,  there  is  no  such  consent 
among  us '  (p.  49).  Most  of  the  primary,  and  some 
secondary,  meanings  of  the  word  have,  however, 
been  taken  by  other  words,  so  that  we  now  speak, 
e.g.,  of  assenting  to  statements,  doctrines,  and 
creeds,  and  of  consenting  to  proposals.  Examples  of 
this  use  of  the  word  are  to  be  found  as  early  as  the 
12th  cent,  (see  OED,  s.v.). 

A  stage  logically  intermediate  between  the 
primitive  and  modern  uses  is  the  employment  of 
'  consent'  to  denote  agreement  in  a  course  of  action. 
'  When  the  wills  of  many  concur,'  says  Hobbes,  '  to 
one  and  the  same  action  and  effect,  the  concurrence 
of  wills  is  called  consent'  (Works,  IV.  xii.),  and  in 
Lk  1418  we  read  that  '  all  with  one  consent  began 
to  make  excuse.'  There  is  no  reference  to  the 
sentiment,  opinion,  or  judgment  of  the  persons 
concurring  to  act. 

But  in  its  modern  prevalent  use  'consent'  de- 
notes a  type  of  volition  which  implies  acquiescence 
in  what  is  proposed  by  another,  an  acquiescence, 
not  in  the  proposer's  sentiment  or  judgment,  but 
merely  in  his  proposal.2  The  state  of  mind  pre- 
ceding consent  seems  to  include  some  reluctance  to 
the  action  proposed.  The  reluctance  may  be  of 
any  degree,  from  mere  indifference,  through  definite 
disinclination  (which  may  be  due  simply  to  lack 
of  light),  to  decided  aversion.  In  the  typical  case 
of  consenting,  the  reluctance  is  overcome  without 
ceasing  to  exist.  When  reluctance  ceases,  the  end 
takes  on  a  more  or  less  desirable  character.  An 
end  desired  is  our  own,  whatever  be  the  psychologi- 
cal origin  of  the  idea  of  the  end.  It  may  have  been 
suggested  by  another  because  he  approved  of  it  or 
desired  its  realization  ;  but,  while  the  end  is  his 

1  See  art.  '  Antimensium,'  in  DC  A  i.  91  f. 

2  '  There  is  a  distinct  difference  in  consciousness  between  the 
consent  of  belief  and  the  consent  of  will.  The  consent  of  belief 
is,  in  a  measure,  a  forced  consent, — it  attaches  to  what  stands 
in  the  order  of  things  whether  I  consent  or  no.  The  consent 
of  will  is  a  forceful  consent — a  consent  to  what  shall  be  through 
me '  (Baldwin,  Handbook  of  Psychology,  1891, '  Will  and  Feeling,' 
p.  17U. 


only,  and  not  attractive  to  us,  there  may  be  an 
indifference,  at  least,  if  not  a  more  positive  reluct- 
ance, to  adopt  it.  When  it  touches  us  and  creates 
desire  or  wins  approval,  it  becomes  to  that  extent 
our  own  end,  and  eeases  to  be  what  we  acquiesce  in. 
We  consent  to,  that  is,  voluntarily  acquiesce  in,  an 
end  which  is  not  our  own  in  the  sense  explained. 
Consent  so  defined  raises  difficult  moral  problems. 

The  fact  that  a  deed  is  done  reluctantly  does 
not  do  away  with  the  fact  that  it  is  willed,  nor, 
according  to  John  Stuart  Mill  (Utilitarianism, 
1901,  ch.  ii.),  does  it  affect  the  morality  of  the 
action.  It  may  affect  our  judgment  of  the  character 
of  the  person  doing  it,  but  the  morality  of  the 
volition  depends  upon  the  nature  of  the  whole 
result  which  was  foreseen  to  depend  upon  the 
volition.  The  apothecary  in  selling  poison  to 
Romeo  said,  '  My  poverty,  not  my  will  consents,' 
but  he  could  not  disclaim  responsibility  for  the 
poisoning  proposed  by  Romeo.  He  did  not  wish 
the  poisoning,  yet  '  the  consent,  though  said  not  to 
be  of  the  will,  might  have  been  enough  to  hang 
for'  (T.  H.  Green,  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  1890,  bk. 
ii.  ch.  ii.).  A  man  who  consents  to  a  wrong  action 
may  plead  poverty,  compulsion,  etc.,  as  extenuat- 
ing circumstances,  but  would  these  affect  our 
judgment  of  his  culpability,  except  in  the  same 
way  as  similar  considerations  would  affect  our  judg- 
ment of  an  action  which  he  conceived  and  carried 
out  entirely  on  his  own  initiative  ? 

It  is  difficult  to  fix  the  nature  and  the  degree 
of  responsibility  attaching  to  consent,  since  ac- 
quiescence in  any  particular  case  may  signify 
much  or  very  little.  It  may  mean,  e.g.,  anything 
between  non-interference  and  full  co-operation. 
Would  we  give  as  much  credit  to  one  who  permits 
a  good  deed  to  be  done  as  to  another  who  actively 
helps  to  perform  it  ?  Would  we  blame  equally 
persons  who  allow  an  evil  to  be  done,  assist  in  doing 
it,  or  do  it  entirely  themselves  ?  Salome  consented 
to  the  proposal  of  Herodias  that  John  the  Baptist 
should  be  beheaded,  and  demanded  his  head  of  the 
king.  Herod  consented  and  ordered  the  execution 
(Mt  148ff).  Herodias,  Salome,  and  Herod  willed 
the  death.  Were  they  equally  responsible  and 
reprehensible  ?  Again,  acquiescence  in  the  same 
deed  may  have  a  different  moral  significance  in  the 
case  of  different  persons.  Pilate  consented  to  the 
demand  of  the  people  to  crucify  Jesus  Christ. 
Jesus  consented  to  die.  The  consent  of  the  one 
showed  him  to  be  a  weak  and  unjust  ruler  ;  the 
consent  of  the  other  revealed  Him  as  a  Saviour  of 
men.  It  is  clear,  therefore,  that,  in  order  to  deter- 
mine the  moral  significance  of  an  act  of  consent, 
the  whole  complex  result  willed  must  be  analyzed 
into  its  elements  and  considered  in  their  relation 
to  one  another,  and  also  in  relation  to  the  concrete 
conditions  in  which  the  person  willing  finds  him- 
self. The  situation  is  often  very  complicated. 
The  acquiescence  of  Jesus  in  His  own  death,  e.g., 
was  an  act  of  obedience  to  His  Father's  will,  yet 
consenting  to  that  will  involved  the  committing  of 
a  crime  by  the  Jews  and  Pilate.  Matheson  (Studies 
of  the  Portrait  of  Christ,  1899-1900,  bk.  ii.  ch.  iii.) 
thinks  that  the  agony  of  Gethsemane  was  largely 
due  to  His  aversion  to  allow  such  a  crime,  and  to 
doubt  whether  it  could  be  in  accordance  with  the  will 
of  God.  '  Taking  up  the  cross '  for  a  Christian  fre- 
quently means  consenting  to  a  course  of  action 
which  he  does  not  desire,  and  cannot  see  the  reason 
for,  or  the  reasonableness  of ;  nevertheless  he 
acquiesces,  in  the  belief  that  he  is  doing  the  will 
of  God,  and  that  the  will  of  God  is  good. 

Submission  of  the  will  to  authority  of  any  kind 
amounts,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  acquiescence  in 
what  is  proposed  by  others.  Obedience  is  consent, 
so  is  compromise ;  co-operation  involves  it.  We 
cannot  live  in  social  relations  with  others  without 


CONSEQUENCE— CONSISTENCY  (Ethical) 


65 


having,  now  and  again,  to  do  things  for  them 
which  we  do  not  ourselves  desire,  and  on  which  we 
may  not  be  able  to  pass  judgment.  For  it  ia  not 
easy  to  know  whether  the  ends  which  our  fellow-men 
set  themselves  to  realize  with  our  help  are,  on  the 
whole,  good.  The  goodness  of  particular  ends  is, 
within  limits,  relative  to  the  individual.  An  end 
which  is  good  for  one  to  aim  at  may  be  bad  for 
another.  This  is  true  irrespective  of  our  conception 
of  the  ultimate  ideal  of  life.  Even  if  the  ultimate 
good  be  one  and  the  same  for  all,  it  is  individualized 
in  a  different  form  for  every  life,  and  each  claims 
the  right  to  realize  it  in  his  own  way.  This  seems 
a  legitimate  claim,  and  consequently  the  good  man 
may  feel  called  upon  to  regard  consent  to  special 
ends  which  he  does  not  desire,  and  is  not  in  a 
position  to  approve  or  disapprove,  as  a  normal 
duty.  By  recognizing  the  claims  of  his  neighbours 
to  his  love  and  help,  he  admits  also  their  right  to 
expect  him  sometimes  to  acquiesce  in  their  purposes 
and  to  trust  their  judgments.  He  must  act,  not 
on  his  own  insight,  but  in  dependence  on  that  of 
others.  His  will  must  consent  to  theirs.  The 
appeal  of  many  proposals  may  depend  not  so  much 
on  their  intrinsic  reasonableness,  as  on  the  persons 
making  them.  Therefore  the  wise  man  is  only 
partially  able  to  realize  the  ideal  of  a  life  according 
to  reason.  He  can  scarcely  hope  that  the  ends  which 
his  fellow-men  seek  are  always  good.  Moreover, 
good  men  often  come  into  apparent  conflict  with 
one  another,  and  co-operation  is  limited  by  com- 
petition. 

A  more  difficult  problem  is  raised  by  a  considera- 
tion of  the  fact  that  man's  life  is  lived  in  a  world 
over  whose  course  he  has  very  little  control.  If  the 
world  is  the  result  of  blind  forces  utterly  indifferent 
to  human  ends,  the  wise  man  has  no  ground  for 
hoping  that  life  will  ever  be  satisfactory.  He  can- 
not acquiesce  in  such  a  world.  His  mind  and 
heart  must  protest  against  it,  however  useless  the 
protest  may  be.  If  these  forces  form  a  mechanical 
system,  whose  operations  can  be  traced  and  related, 
man's  intelligence  may  bow  to  the  inevitable  order, 
and  seek  to  understand  it,  but  his  conscience  does 
not  consent  to  such  a  scheme.  The  moral  will 
would  be  inevitably  opposed  to  a  merely  mechanical 
cosmical  process.  It  cannot  acquiesce  in  a  world 
which  is  not  based  on  moral  principles,  and  which 
is  not  ultimately  amenable  to  human  ends. 

And  even  on  this  assumption  a  completely 
rational  life  is  an  ideal  which  is  scarcely  realizable 
by  any  one  in  the  present  state  of  existence.  And, 
therefore,  Kant  (cf.  Critique  of  Practical  Reason) 
maintained  that  immortality  is  a  necessary  moral 
postulate.  He  maintained,  moreover,  that  the 
existence  of  the  supremely  Good  Will  must  be 
postulated  as  creator  and  governor  in  order  to 
secure  complete  harmony  between  the  perfect 
moral  will  of  man  and  the  conditions  of  his  happi- 
ness. There  appeared  to  be  no  other  way  of 
guaranteeing  the  realization  of  the  bonum  con- 
summatum. 

Many  of  the  higher  religions  teach  submission 
to  this  sovereign  will,  whose  ways  are  often  in- 
scrutable, as  the  highest  duty.  The  Christian 
position  is  that  we  should  will  that  God's  will  be 
done,  and  consent,  therefore,  to  all  that  is  involved 
in  the  operations  of  that  will,  whether  we  like  and 
approve  them  or  not ;  knowing,  in  the  words  of  St. 
Paul,  that  '  all  things  work  together  for  good  to 
them  that  love  God'  (Ro  8s8).  In  a  sense  such  a 
view  effects  a  partial  synthesis  between  the  two 
attitudes  of  acting  from  rational  insight  and  con- 
senting to  the  order  of  the  world.  For,  if  its 
fundamental  assumptions  are  true,  a  man  acts 
autonomously  and  rationally  in  willing  continuously 
the  realization  of  the  supremely  good  and  reason- 
able will ;  and  also  by  consenting,  in  detail,  to 
vol.  iv. — 5 


particular  events,  and  to  particulars  of  conduct, 
even  when  unable  to  desire  and  approve  them. 
The  practical  problem  then  reduces  itself  to  know- 
ing what  that  will  intends  us  to  do. 

A  synthesis  of  a  different  kind  is  attempted 
in  some  metaphysical  systems,  such  as  that  of 
Spinoza  (cf.  his  Ethics  and  Treatise  on  the  Improve- 
ment of  the  Understanding).  Everything  that 
exists,  Spinoza  thought,  follows  eternally  and 
necessarily  from  the  being  of  the  One  Substance. 
The  end  of  life  is  to  obtain  rational  insight  of  an 
intuitive  kind  into  this  being,  to  see  self  as  one  of 
its  modes,  and  to  acquiesce  in  the  order  of  things. 
When  the  order  of  the  Universe  —  Substance, 
Nature,  God,  Truth,  are  Spinoza's  terms — is  under- 
stood, we  more  than  acquiesce  in  it  j  we  find  satis- 
faction in  the  knowledge.  Supreme  and  enduring 
happiness  consists  in  the  intellectual  love  of  God 
(amor  intellectualis  Dei). 

For  consent  in  marriage,  see  MAKRIAGE. 

Litbratorb. — This  is  sufficiently  indicated  in  the  article. 

David  Phillips. 

CONSEQUENCE. — If  a  proposition^  implies 
a  proposition  q,  but  q  does  not  in  turn  imply  p, 
then  p  is  called  the  antecedent  and  q  the  conse- 
quent ;  whereas,  if  each  implies  the  other,  they 
are  preferably  called  equivalents.  Logical  conse- 
quence is  thus  the  relation  obtaining  between  a 
conclusion  and  its  premisses,  such  that  if  the  pre- 
misses are  true  the  conclusion  is  true.  The  reverse 
of  this  relation — the  relation  holding  between  the 
consequent  and  an  antecedent — is  logical  presup- 
position. That  is,  the  consequent  is  logically 
presupposed  by  the  antecedent ;  for  only  if  it  be 
true  can  the  latter  be  true,  whereas  the  antecedent 
might  be  false  and  the  consequent  still  true. 

By  causal  consequence,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
meant  the  relation  between  an  antecedent  event 
and  its  effect ;  and  the  philosophically  important 
question  at  once  arises,  Are  the  two  types  of  con- 
sequence the  same?  For  a  century  it  has  been 
believed  that  Hume  and  Kant  proved  successfully 
that  the  relation  between  cause  and  effect  is  not 
that  of  logical  consequence,  by  showing  that  we 
discover  causal  relations  not  by  deduction,  but  by 
observation  and  experiment,  or  inductively.  But 
this  does  not  follow  ;  for,  though  it  is  true  that  our 
discovery  of  causal  relations  is  usually  made  in- 
ductively, the  relations  discovered  are  logical. 
Moreover,  many  causal  relations  have  been  de- 
duced, to  wit,  those  inferred  in  mechanics  and 
mathematical  physics.  Indeed,  all  causal  laws  can 
be  explicitly  formulated  as  propositions  of  the  type 
p  implies  q.  Perhaps  what  confuses  us  is  that  the 
temporal  relation  between  an  antecedent  cause  and 
its  effect  is  foreign  to  logical  consequence,  and  that 
the  antecedent  event  seems  to  us,  for  practical 
reasons,  necessary  for  the  effect,  and  not  the  effect 
for  it.  But  the  effect  is  quite  as  necessary  for  the 
cause  as  the  cause  for  the  effect ;  and,  though  in  a 
temporal  system,  such  as  the  world  is,  events 
must  be  related  in  time,  still  this  relation  is  logic- 
ally accidental  to  the  generic  relation  whereby 
from  the  nature  of  one  part  of  the  world-system 
we  are  enabled  to  infer  the  nature  of  another 
part.  This  generic  relation  is  that  of  logical  impli- 
cation, and  is  either  the  causal  relation  or  a  class 
of  which  the  causal  relation  is  a  member.  See 
Cause,  Causality. 

Literatdre. — Spinoza,  Ethics,  pt.  i. ;  Hume,  Inquiry  con- 
cerning Human  Understanding ,  sects,  iv.-vii.  ;  B.  Russell, 
Principles  of  Mathematics,  London,  1903,  chs.  iii.  and  lv. 

Walter  T.  Marvin. 
CONSISTENCY  (Ethical).— In  so  far  as  ethics 
is  a  theory,  we  must  ask  whether  such  a  theory  is 
open  to  the  test  of  consistency  ;  and  in  so  far  as 
ethics  bears  upon  conduct,  we  must  inquire  whether 
consistency  also  applies  to  the  practical  sphere.    In 


66 


CONSISTENCY  (Ethical) 


regard  to  its  theoretical  aspect,  the  question  arises 
whether  ethics  is  simply  knowledge  of  moral  facts, 
or  whether  it  must  fashion  an  ideal  to  serve  as  a 
rule  for  conduct ;  whether,  that  is  to  say,  it  merely 
describes,  or  also  enjoins  and  commands.  If  it  be 
merely  descriptive,  its  sole  aim  will  be  to  discover 
the  characteristic  and  essential  features  of  morality. 
The  latter  view  has  very  largely  come  into  favour 
in  modern  times. 

I.  Consistency  in  naturalistic  ethics.  —  Utili- 
tarianism, Eudcemonism,  or  the  Ethics  of  Feeling, 
proposes  to  explain  the  origin  of  morality.  It 
starts  from  phenomena ;  it  examines  the  native 
capacities  of  mankind,  and  even  tries  to  trace  the 
development  of  these.  It  occupies  itself  with  the 
psychological  analysis  of  impulses,  feelings,  and 
emotions,  with  man's  relations  to  his  environment, 
and  his  dependence  upon,  or  relative  independence 
of,  this  environment ;  with  his  relations  to  Nature, 
to  his  fellows,  and  to  the  communities  in  which 
he  finds  himself ;  with  suffering  and  his  reaction 
against  it ;  with  his  estimate  of  things  by  means 
of  a  '  value-judgment,'  which  may  itself  be  vari- 
ously construed,  and  with  the  origin  of  these  value- 
judgments.  In  so  far  as  ethics  bears  this  empirical 
character,  its  business  is  to  subject  the  conduct  of 
men  to  historical  and  psychological  investigation, 
to  analyze  it,  to  discover,  if  possible,  the  laws 
which  actually  regulate  human  life  and  which 
furnish  a  standard  of  value  for  conduct,  and  to 
determine  the  class  of  actions  most  conformable 
to  this  standard.  For  this  school,  in  fact,  the  only 
important  matter  is  to  draw  from  the  boundless 
mass  of  material  such  general  truths  as  will  be 
valid  within  this  particular  sphere. 

It  is  impossible  on  these  lines  ever  to  get  beyond 
probability  or  merely  relative  points  of  view.  An 
ethical  theory  of  this  sort  is  inevitably  tied  down 
to  the  relative.  Consistency  can  find  no  footing 
here.  All  that  is  required  is  to  bring  the  manifold 
data  under  general  categories  by  induction.  Em- 
pirical thinkers,  and  more  especially  sceptics,  who 
place  their  mark  of  interrogation  upon  everything, 
will  even  tell  us  that  the  endeavour  to  introduce 
consistency  into  ethics  is  a  mere  futility,  and  really 
prevents  us  from  doing  justice  to  the  facts.  A 
moralist  like  Bentham,  for  instance,  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  consistency.  For,  though  he 
admits  the  validity  of  the  general  proposition  that 
morality  is  concerned  with  the  good  of  the  whole, 
he  yet  holds  that  experience  alone  shows  what 
makes  for  this  good.  Laws  derived  from  the  facts 
are  only  of  relative  value.  A  change  in  the  facts 
will  necessarily  involve  a  change  in  the  laws. 
Those  who  favour  the  historical  method  give 
special  prominence  to  the  fact  that  ethical  ideas 
undergo  extensive  modifications,  and  that  every 
age  has  its  own  particular  assortment  of  such 
ideas,  won  from  the  most  heterogeneous  points 
of  view,  and  therefore  quite  incapable  of  being 
reduced  to  unity.  Effete  conceptions— vestiges  of 
earlier  modes  of  thought — still  continue  to  operate 
in  certain  circles,  or  in  the  general  consciousness, 
at  a  time  when  other  usages  and  ideas,  by  no  means 
reconcilable  with  the  old,  have  come  to  the  front. 
Hence,  it  is  said,  the  collision  of  duties  and  the 
existence  of  contradictory  views  of  moral  life  are 
just  what  we  might  anticipate,  and  accordingly 
the  demand  for  consistency  is  sheer  folly.  Moral 
judgments  are  thus  the  result  of  a  psychical  and 
historical  process — the  mere  temporary  compromise 
between  the  competing  interests  of  the  day.  To 
look  for  consistency  under  such  conditions  is  to 
shut  one's  eyes  to  the  facts.  A  like  judgment  must 
be  passed  upon  the  theory  which  finds  morality  in 
the  spontaneity  of  our  nature,  which  builds  upon 
instinct  and  unconscious  tendency,  and  which,  as 
wholly  averse  to  rational  principles,  would  trace 


moral  action  to  the  impulse  of  an  inherent  goodness 
in  mankind,  or  of  partly  conscious,  partly  uncon- 
scious, propensity ;  or,  again,  would  even  bring  in 
the  operation  of  a  natural  creative  potency.  On 
this  theory,  also,  the  entire  function  of  ethics  is  to 
describe  the  impulses  as  they  appear  in  experience. 

The  explanation  of  this  antipathy  on  the  part  of  empirical 
ethics  to  the  idea  of  consistency  is  that  the  system  merely 
registers  and  describes  the  various  types  of  ethical  thought 
and  action,  classifying  them  under  general  headings,  and  re- 
fraining from  any  attempt  to  harmonize  these,  on  the  ground 
that  the  moral  ideas  and  phenomena  emerge  in  the  most 
diverse  departments  of  human  life,  in  the  most  disparate 
phases  of  culture,  and  in  ages  most  remote  from  one  another, 
and  that  accordingly  they  cannot  well  be  brought  into  organic 
unity.  Indeed,  many  even  maintain  that  the  sphere  of  practice 
is  the  proper  arena  for  the  irrational,  for  a  power  quite  imper- 
vious to  reason.  Here,  it  is  said,  we  encounter  the  fact  of 
personality ;  here  the  concrete,  the  merely  particular,  comes 
into  play — that  which  in  the  last  resort  eludes  the  grasp  of 
thought.  All  general  principles  are  therefore  but  bare  abstrac- 
tions, drawn  from  a  limited  field  of  experience,  and  as  divergent 
as  the  data  they  refer  to. 

2.  Consistency  in  religious  ethics. — Frequently, 
too,  even  religious  ethics  gives  no  more  considera- 
tion to  the  idea  of  consistency  than  does  empirical 
ethics.  The  ethics  of  religion  has  usually  been 
content  to  give  sacred  sanction  to  a  traditional 
morality,  which  has  grown  up  amongst  a  people 
under  the  most  heterogeneous  influences  ;  or  it  has, 
at  most,  added  sundry  directions  regarding  cere- 
monial observances,  ecclesiastical  duties,  and  especi- 
ally works  of  piety.  We  need  not  expect  to  find  a 
harmonious  consistency  under  such  conditions. 

We  have  an  instance  of  this  in  Jewish  ethics,  with  its  multi- 
farious precepts  regarding  individual  conduct,  and  regarding 
social,  ceremonial,  and  political  affairs.  The  ethics  of  the 
Persian  religion  embraces  a  vast  array  of  ceremonial  and  moral 
ordinances,  together  with  injunctions  regarding  social  duties, 
such  as  planting  trees,  killing  noxious  animals,  and  the  like. 
Jewish  and  Persian  ethics,  however,  so  far  agree  in  resolving 
all  the  various  regulations  into  a  formal  unity,  namely,  the  wifl 
of  God,  as  the  source  of  all ;  and  it  is  the  same  will  which  fixes 
the  penalty  of  transgression  and  the  reward  of  obedience. 

A  second  type  of  religious  ethics  is  that  which  admits  a  dual  ■ 
istic  morality.  In  Buddhism,  for  instance,  there  is  one  morality 
for  the  monks  and  another  for  the  laity.  The  universalism  of 
this  religion  was  not  carried  to  its  final  issues :  thus,  woman 
was  placed  in  a  lower  rank  than  man,  and  the  system  of  caste 
was  left  undisturbed ;  and,  while  the  leading  principle  of 
Buddhistic  ethics  was  the  complete  surrender  of  desire  in  a  life 
of  patience  and  contemplative  wisdom,  this  was  subsequently 
enjoined  in  different  degrees  for  layman  and  monk  respectively. 
The  monks  were  required  not  only  to  eschew  adultery,  but  to 
abstain  entirely  from  sexual  intercourse,  to  avoid  luxury,  and 
to  give  themselves  to  meditation.  A  distinction  was  also  made 
between  venial  and  mortal  sins.  Rules  of  propriety  were  added 
to  moral  obligations.  A  consistently  developed  ethical  theory 
is  thus  clearly  out  of  the  question. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  ethics  of  Brahmanism.  The  Law 
Book  of  Manu  contains  an  exposition  of  duties,  as  also  injunc- 
tions regarding  the  retention  of  the  caste  system  and  regarding 
submission  to  the  Brahmans.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is,  as 
early  as  the  Upanisads,  the  formula  Tat  tvatn  asi,  'That (the 
Cosmos)  art  thou,'  which  bids  each  find  himself  in  his  fellow- 
man  ;  and,  while  asceticism,  solitary  meditation,  and  withdrawal 
into  the  forest  count  for  more  than  family  or  business  life,  yet  a 
compromise  is  made  between  the  two  by  the  regulation  that  the 
forest  life  shall  be  adopted  only  after  a  man  has  lived  in  a  family 
and  brought  up  a  son. 

Consistency  is  likewise  alien  to  the  ethics  of  Roman  Catholi- 
cism. For  one  thing,  morality  is  here  made  to  rest  upon  the 
isolated  fiat  of  an  external  authority ;  for  another,  a  distinction 
is  drawn  between  obligations  and  counsels.  Moreover,  the 
sacrament  of  penance  prescribes  a  series  of  external  works ; 
while,  finally,  the  monastic  ethics  of  the  religiosi  is  severed 
from  the  ethics  of  the  laity. 

Nevertheless,  it  would  be  wrong  to  imagine  that 
religious  ethics  must  necessarily  assume  this  double 
form,  or  that  it  can  be  no  more  than  a  mere  aggre- 
gation of  contingent  and  isolated  commands,  and 
must  in  consequence  lack  consistency. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  ethics  of  Confucius,  who  put  a  check 
upon  belief  in  spirits,  soothsaying,  and  exorcism,  and  who  read 
a  Divine  revelation  in  the  natural  and  social  order,  exhibits  a 
more  homogeneous  and  self-consistent  character  than  any  of  the 
above.  '  The  wise  man  obeys  the  law  and  awaits  his  destiny  ; 
that  is  the  sum-total  of  duty.'  This  law  sets  forth  the  right 
hierarchy  of  social  relationship  in  the  subjection  of  the  wife  to 
the  husband,  of  children  to  parents  ;  in  family  affection,  which 
is  to  be  nurtured  by  ancestor-worship ;  in  the  separation  of  the 
sexes,  as  providing  a  *  barrier  for  the  people ' ;  in  the  subordina- 
tion of  the  younger  to  the  older,  and  of  the  Bubject  to  the  ruler. 


CONSISTENCY  (Ethical) 


67 


The  law  also  decrees  that  this  social  order  shall  be  represented 
in  the  ritual.  Kindness  to  the  poor,  the  friendless,  the  widow, 
and  the  orphan,  is  commended,  and  great  stress  is  laid  upon 
faithfulness  in  friendship.  The  governmental  system  should 
aim  at  nurturing  a  peaceful,  industrious,  and  contented  people. 
It  quite  accords  with  all  this  that  Confucius  sets  great  store  by 
ancient  tradition  and  history,  as  exhibiting  the  decrees  of  heaven 
in  punishment  and  reward.  Observance  of  this  moral  order  is 
at  the  same  time  a  religious  duty.  It  is  obvious  that,  notwith- 
standing the  aphoristic  form  which  this  moral  teaching  tends  to 
assume,  nearly  everything  is  dominated  by  a  single  thought. 

Finally,  the  ethics  of  Christianity  exhibits  certain  features 
which  not  only  imply  that  the  entire  moral  life  is  brought  under 
one  point  of  view,  but  also  set  forth  a  consistent  moral  ideal. 

3.  Consistency  in  rational  ethics. — (a)  As  the 

application  of  an  abstract  law. — While  religious 
ethics,  therefore,  either  as  giving  formal  sanction 
to  incongruous  usages,  or  as  massing  together  arbi- 
trary laws,  or  as  separating  the  moral  interests  of 
religion  from  those  of  the  secular  life,  tends  in  the 
main  to  dispense  with  consistency,  the  case  is 
quite  different  with  rational  ethics.  The  funda- 
mental tenet  of  the  latter  school  is  that  the  moral 
is  grounded  in  the  rational ;  and,  even  if  a  distinc- 
tion be  made,  as  by  Kant,  between  practical  and 
theoretical  reason,  the  test  of  consistency  holds 
good  in  either.  When  Kant  wishes  to  prove  that 
a  breach  of  the  universal  moral  law  is  indefensible, 
he  points  to  the  contradictions  which  such  a  breach 
involves.  If  we  would  test  the  validity  of  a  maxim, 
we  have  but  to  ask  how  it  would  work  as  a  uni- 
versal law.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  refusal  to 
implement  a  promise,  were  it  made  a  universal 
rule,  would  result  in  a  state  of  things  where  no 
promise  was  accepted,  i.e.  the  maxim  would  defeat 
its  own  purpose.  The  criterion  applied  here  is 
therefore  that  of  logical  consistency.  Similarly, 
in  his  Critique  of  Practical  Reason,  Kant  resorts 
to  the  logical  categories  as  furnishing  a  more  pre- 
cise definition  of  freedom.  In  one  form  or  another, 
rational  ethics  makes  out  a  case  for  an  uncon- 
ditional factor  in  morality,  and  it  must  vindicate 
the  claim  of  this  unconditional  and  universal  prin- 
ciple to  be  supreme,  i.e.  to  determine  everything 
that  comes  within  its  province ;  in  a  word,  it  de- 
mands consistency. 

Consistency  in  rational  ethics  is,  primarily,  the 
requirement  that  the  practical  side  of  life  in  its  en- 
tirety shall  be  brought  to  the  test  of  the  universal 
moral  law,  and  made  subject  to  it. 

Thus  the  Stoics  maintained  that  all  morality  lay  in  the  one 
supreme  virtue,  namely,  harmony  with  the  law  of  nature  or  of 
reason.  From  the  same  standpoint  Kant  treated  morality  in  a 
purely  formal  way,  taking  reverence  for  the  law  as  the  sole 
motive.  This  law,  however,  being  as  yet  wholly  abstract,  is 
incapable  of  positively  determining  the  concrete  materials  of 
conduct.  Given  conditions  are  brought  within  the  scope  of  the 
law ;  tbey  are  not,  however,  derived  from  the  law,  but  only 
tested  by  it.  For  example,  the  institution  of  marriage  is  not 
deduced  from  the  law,  nor  is  its  place  in  the  ethical  economy 
assigned  by  the  law;  the  sole  question  is  whether,  marriage 
being  assumed,  the  universally  valid  law  can  take  effect  in  the 
relationship.  Strictly  speaking,  in  such  a  case  we  can  say  only 
that  the  law  must  not  be  infringed  ;  we  cannot  determine  the 
actual  duties  of  marriage.  It  is,  in  fact,  precisely  on  this  account 
that  Kant  distinguishes  between  duties  of  perfect  and  those 
of  imperfect  obligation.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  obligation  of 
developing  one's  natural  powers  is  an  imperfect  one,  because, 
while  the  maxim  of  such  effort  is  undoubtedly  a  law,  the  mode 
and  degree  of  the  effort  are  in  no  way  denned  by  it,  but  are  left 
to  personal  choice.  Even  on  Kant's  view,  therefore,  there  is  a 
certain  permissive  sphere  in  morals,  to  which  the  consistency 
of  the  moral  law  cannot  be  extended — a  sphere  for  casuistry,  in 
which  particular  cases  cannot  be  decided  by  the  law. 

Kant's  mode  of  applying  the  test  of  consistency  in  the  field  of 
rational  ethics  stands  in  contrast  with  that  of  Herbart.  On  the 
one  hand,  the  unifying  principle  from  which  Herbart  starts  is 
an  esthetic  a  priori  judgment  regarding  relations  of  will,  and 
from  this  judgment  proceed  the  ethical  ideas.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  enumerates  five  such  relations  of  will  (recalling  the  five 
axioms  of  Whewell),  which  he  simply  places  side  by  side.  To 
look  for  consistency  here  is  apparently  out  of  the  question,  as 
these  five  ideas  are  neither  traced  to,  nor  derived  from,  a  single 
principle.  Closer  examination,  however,  reveals  that  these  ideas 
are  in  fact  held  together  by  the  thought  of  a  harmony  in  all  the 
principal  relations  of  will,  while  a  similar  unifying  potency  is 
attributed  to  the  conception  of  living  society,  which  combines 
all  the  ideas  in  harmonious  unity,  embracing  both  individual 
and  social  relations  of  will.     Looked  at  in  this  way,  the  ethics 


of  Herbart  presents  us  with  a  much  more  concrete  ideal  than 
Kant's  universal  abstract  law,  and  so  exhibits  a  higher  degree 
of  consistency. 

(b)  Consistency  in  the  structure  of  the  concrete 
moral  ideal.  —  The  criterion  of  consistency  is 
applied  even  more  cogently  by  those  who  seek 
by  speculative  methods  to  give  the  ideal  a  con- 
crete form.  It  was  on  these  lines  that  Plato 
fashioned  his  ideal  Republic,  which  he  regarded 
as  the  highest  image  of  the  Good  upon  earth, 
though  his  dualism  stood  in  the  way  of  a  per- 
fectly consistent  theory.  In  the  main,  however, 
he  sought  to  delineate  a  harmonious  antitype  of 
the  Idea  of  the  Good ;  and  it  was  his  conviction 
of  the  universal  supremacy  of  this  Idea  that 
moved  him  to  incorporate  in  his  scheme  the  con- 
crete conditions  of  human  life  and  the  special 
faculties  of  the  soul.  In  the  Laws,  it  is  true,  he 
somewhat  lowers  the  Ideal  in  favour  of  the  exist- 
ent civic  situation,  yet  this  does  not  so  much 
imply  a  surrender  of  consistency  as  a  desire  to 
actualize  his  ideal  State  amid  given  conditions. 
The  Idea  of  the  Good  which  manifests  itself  in 
the  individual  (as  virtue)  and  in  the  State — the 
macrocosm  of  man — is  set  forth  by  Plato  with  the 
strictest  consistency  as  the  unifying  principle  of 
morals.  This  is  even  more  true  of  Aristotle. 
With  him,  the  one  j-oOs  is  supreme  in  man,  laying 
down  just  proportions  for  all  emotions  and  all 
goods ;  and,  although  he  gives  an  empirical  tabu- 
lation of  the  particular  virtues  rather  than  a 
classification  dominated  by  a  universal  principle, 
yet  his  guiding  thought  is  that  the  dianoetic 
virtues  are  concerned  with  the  development  of 
the  practical  intelligence,  while  the  ethical  virtues 
have  to  do  with  reason's  mastery  of  the  passions 
by  exercise.  In  effect,  therefore,  according  to 
Aristotle,  virtue  is  one,  viz.  the  supremacy  of 
reason,  which,  however,  can  be  adequately  realized 
only  in  the  State — the  State  itself,  again,  being 
founded  upon  the  home.  Aristotle  also  agrees 
with  Plato  in  linking  his  doctrine  of  virtue  to 
the  Idea  of  the  Supreme  Good,  but  he  concedes 
a  much  wider  scope  to  the  operation  of  reason 
in  practical  life,  and  thus  carries  out  his  ethical 
doctrine  in  a  more  consistent  way. 

In  modern  times,  J.  G.  Fichte  and  Schleiermacher 
have  urged  the  importance  of  unity  in  ethical 
theory,  and  have  given  complete  consistency  to 
the  moral  ideal.  True,  Schleiermacher  discarded 
imperative  ethics  and  advocated  the  descriptive 
method.  In  his  opinion,  however,  ethics  is  not  an 
empirical  or  inductive,  but  rather  a  speculative, 
science.  The  moral  ideal  is  not  an  ideal  of  obli- 
gation, but  it  is  described  as  the  ideal  by  which 
men  act — duty ;  or  in  terms  of  the  faculty  which 
manifests  itself  as  lawful— virtue ;  or  in  terms  of 
the  result  of  action — the  highest  good.  In  all 
this  Schleiermacher  applies  the  ideal  with  such 
rigorous  consistency  as  to  demand  that  every  man, 
with  due  allowance  for  his  individual  nature,  shall 
construct  and  realize  his  ideal  concretely  and  in 
full  detail.  He  gives  no  place  to  the  distinction 
between  perfect  and  imperfect  obligations,  or  to 
the  collision  of  duties,  since  at  every  moment  only 
one  mode  of  action  is  ethically  possible — that, 
namely,  which  in  the  circumstances  best  furthers 
the  entire  moral  process.  Morality  being  an  in- 
tegral whole,  every  action  is  in  its  degree  a  re- 
flexion of  this  whole.  The  distinction  he  draws 
between  symbolizing  and  organizing  action  he 
admits  to  be  relative  only,  since  each  includes 
the  other  in  smaller  compass ;  the  same  is  true 
of  the  universal  and  the  individual  factor.  Each 
ethical  province  therefore  in  a  measure  embraces 
the  other,  and,  when  combined,  they  constitute  the 
highest  good — a  unity  absolutely  complete  in  itself. 
The  ideal  has  no  gaps,  and,  consequently,  nothing 


68 


CONSISTENCY  (Ethical) 


19  merely  permissive.  The  ideal  embraces  the 
entire  range  of  human  conduct ;  in  fact,  even  the 
mode  of  action  in  any  given  situation  is  deter- 
mined by  fixed  rules. 

According  to  Schleiermacher,  reason  is  a  power 
which  moulds  nature  to  new  issues  ;  and  among 
modern  thinkers  it  is  he  who  has  most  consistently 
developed  the  thought  that  the  whole  spiritual  life 
of  man  is  ethically  determined,  no  phase  whatever 
being  left  out.  His  Theological  Ethics  bears  the 
same  character.  It  simply  describes  how  the 
religious  impulse— the  Divine  spirit  operating  as 
the  intensified  power  of  reason — works  as  the  con- 
straining motive  in  the  determination  of  moral 
action  in  its  details,  and  how  it  strengthens  this 
rational  action  (as  it  is  called  in  his  Philosophical 
Ethics)  without  running  counter  to  it  or  altering 
its  content.  The  man  who  is  in  harmony  with  the 
Spirit  of  God  is,  in  thought  and  feeling,  an  integral 
concentrated  force,  which  manifests  itself  in  the 
moral  ideal,  and  effects  the  highest  good.  This 
concrete  form  of  the  ideal  exhibits  a  far  more 
strict  consistency  and  uniformity  than  does  the 
abstract  idea  of  universally  valid  law. 

(c)  Consistency  in  the  historical  development. — 
We  can  scarcely  look  for  a  more  exigent  standard 
of  consistency  in  ethics  than  that  of  Schleier- 
macher, but  we  may  give  more  consideration  to 
the  fact  of  development.  Schleiermacher's  ideal 
is  really  timeless.  No  doubt  he  holds  that  the 
speculative  view  of  ethie3  may  be  brought  into 
relation  with  historical  science  and  practical  life 
by  means  of  critical  and  technical  studies,  and 
he  desiderates  that  full  account  be  taken  of  the 
individual's  special  place  in  the  Kingdom  of  God ; 
he  even  grafts  upon  the  ideal  the  laws  by  which 
the  whole  course  of  conduct  must  be  directed ; 
but,  nevertheless,  he  practically  overlooks  the 
factor  of  development  in  the  moral  consciousness. 
In  his  Kritik  der  bisherigen  Sittenlehre  he  submits 
the  history  of  ethics  to  a  searching  investigation, 
but  from  a  purely  criticalpoint  of  view.  This  defect 
was  made  good  by  J.  G.  Fichte,  and  notably  by 
Hegel ;  subsequently  also  by  Chalybdus,1  Harms,2 
and  von  Hartmann.3  These  thinkers  took  account 
of  the  successive  stages  through  which  morality 
had  passed,  and  contended  for  consistency  in 
the  ethical  idea.  As  an  example  we  may  take 
Hegel's  Eechtsphilosophie,  which  also  comprises 
his  ethics. 

In  the  history  of  moral  experience  Hegel  sees  a  logically 
necessary  process  of  development.  He  argues  that  the  com- 
ponent factors  of  the  moral  idea  are  exhibited  in  the  several 
stadia  of  the  developing  moral  consciousness;  that  they  are 
all  conserved  in  the  highest  stadium,  and  incorporated  in  the 
all-embracing  unity  of  the  moral  organism.  From  the  pre- 
moral  condition  of  the  natural  life,  with  its  impulses,  out  of 
which,  in  process  of  time,  grows  a  system  of  wants,  Hegel 
differentiates  the  stage  of  abstract  law,  in  which  man  is  subject 
to  an  external  arbitrary  norm,  expressed  primarily  in  the  regu- 
lation of  property  and  contract.  Next,  consciousness  passes,  by 
an  inner  necessity,  from  this  purely  outward  phase  of  freedom 
to  the  stage  of  morality,  which  lays  stress  upon  inner  feeling  in 
an  abstract  and  one-sided  way.  Advance  is  then  made  to  the 
stage  of  Sittiichkeit,  or  established  observance,  in  which  moral 
thought  allies  itself  with  an  objective  content  embodied  in  the 
moral  community.  This  content  manifests  itself  first  of  all  in 
the  family,  which  forms  an  expression  of  natural  feeling,  and 
in  which  individual  property  becomes  family  property  ;  it  then 
appears  as  civil  society,  with  its  system  of  wants,  police  regu- 
lations, and  corporate  institutions ;  finally  comes  the  State, 
which  assimilates  the  results  of  the  whole  development.  The 
State  conserves  the  family  and  civil  society,  in  which  the 
individual  finds  his  satisfaction ;  it  conserves  the  inner  disposi- 
tion, which  now  acquires  a  concrete  ethical  content ;  it  con- 
serves the  sphere  of  abstract  law,  and  even  the  life  of  natural 
impulse  together  with  its  system  of  wants. 

Now  we  may  possibly  take  exception  to  some 
of  the  details  of  this  sequence,  but  we  cannot  well 
ignore  its  leading  idea,  viz.  that  man  advances 
from  a  state  of   nature    to  a  state   of    average 

1  System  der  spekulativen  Ethik  (Leipz.  1850). 

2  See  his  admirable  work  Die  Formen  der  Ethik  (Berlin,  1878), 
afterwards  incorporated  in  his  Ethik,  ed.  Wiese  (1889),  12,  47  ff. 

3  Phdnomenologie  des  sittlichen  Bewusstseins  (Berlin,  1879). 


morality  characterized  by  statutory  law ;  that, 
passing  from  the  stage  of  positive  enactment,  he 
formulates  the  law  abstractly  as  good  disposi- 
tion ;  and  that,  finally,  he  transforms  this  abstract 
morality  into  concrete  established  observance, 
thus  arriving  at  a  Supreme  Good  which  recapitu- 
lates in  itself  all  the  preceding  stages.  The  idea 
of  consistency  in  ethical  knowledge  is  thus  ex- 
tended to  the  process  of  development,  and  at  the 
final  stage  we  are  brought  to  a  provisional  har- 
mony in  which  the  consistency  of  the  ethical  idea 
is  revealed  as  the  economy  of  the  moral  organism. 

(d)  Consistency  in  the  relation  of  Ethics  to  the 
ultimate  principle  of  Philosophy.  —  Speculative 
moralists, however,  carry  consistency  to  still  further 
lengths.  Not  only  do  they  assign  to  ethics,  as  a 
special  science,  its  proper  place  in  the  system  as 
a  whole — as  even  Kant  does,  in  his  distinction  of 
theoretical  and  practical  reason — but  they  either 
trace  it  to,  or  deduce  it  from,  an  ultimate  unity,  a 
supreme  integral  principle,  thus  fitting  it  organic- 
ally into  a  complete  philosophical  rationale  of  the 
universe.  Such  is  the  procedure  of  Plato,  who 
holds  that  true  knowledge  involves  morality,  and 
that  morality  carries  with  it  insight  into  truth, 
and  who  therefore  regards  the  science  of  knowing, 
or  dialectics,  as  the  cardinal  science,  embracing 
not  only  knowledge  hut  also  the  supreme  content 
of  knowledge,  i.e.  true  being  or  the  Ideas,  of  which 
the  highest  is  that  of  the  Good  and  Beautiful. 
These  Ideas  Plato  deems  to  be  realities,  so  that 
the  True  and  the  Good  and  the  Beautiful  are  one. 
The  subject-matter  of  metaphysics  or  dialectics, 
which  embraces  the  knowledge  of  being,  is  iden- 
tical with  the  Good  and  Beautiful ;  and,  as  this 
highest  Idea  is  Deity,  metaphysics,  religion,  and 
morality  are  in  the  last  resort  one — just  as  truth, 
goodness,  and  beauty  cannot  be  dissevered.  Plato's 
differentiation  of  physics  and  ethics  from  dialectics 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  good  and  beautiful  of 
the  actual  world  is  only  a  copy  of  the  real — a  mere 
representation  in  material  form,  since  the  world  is 
the  sphere  of  becoming. 

Although  Aristotle  and  the  Stoics  likewise 
aspired  to  place  ethics  in  its  right  connexion  with 
philosophy  as  a  whole,  yet  their  endeavours  after 
unity,  their  ideas  of  consistency,  were  not  car- 
ried out  so  fully  as  Plato's,  the  reason  being  that 
their  interest  in  experience  and  the  special  sciences 
was  greater  than  his,  and  so  far  deranged  their 
philosophical  views.  On  the  other  hand,  we  have 
a  striking  instance  of  consistency  in  the  work  of 
Spinoza.  Even  his  mathematical  method,  which 
in  reality  is  logical  rather  than  mathematical, 
supplies  an  illustration  of  this.  He  regards  meta- 
physics, ethics,  and  religion  as  constituting  an 
integral  whole ;  and,  further,  his  theory  of  the 
parallelism  of  thought  and  extension  enables  him 
to  incorporate  physics  into  this  unity.  Here, 
therefore,  we  have  an  attempt  on  a  grand  scale 
to  connect  ethics  organically  with  the  entire 
system,  and  to  enforce  the  principle  of  consist- 
ency to  its  extreme  limit.  A  similar  course  is 
followed  by  the  A  bsolute  Philosophy  of  Germany, 
as  exemplified  by  Fichte,  Schelling,  and  Hegel, 
and,  as  they  take  the  historical  process  into  ac- 
count, their  system  is  even  more  comprehensive 
than  that  of  Spinoza.  Hegel  looks  upon  man's 
whole  moral  experience  in  its  several  gradations  as 
a  phase  of  development  in  the  self-manifestation  of 
the  Absolute,  or  the  Idea,  which  actualizes  itself 
in  moral  life  in  order  to  attain,  in  aesthetic  in- 
tuition, in  religious  conception,  and,  finally,  in 
philosophic  thought,  a  survey  of  the  whole  pro- 
cess. Moral  life  is  thus  an  aspect  of  the  Idea,  a 
stadium  in  its  development.  Here  consistency 
reaches  the  acme  of  rigour.  Schleiermacher,  too, 
endeavoured  to  bring  ethics  into  organic  connexion 


CONSISTENCY  (Ethical) 


69 


with  his  whole  philosophy.  For  him,  as  for 
Schelling,  the  highest  principle  was  indifference, 
i.e.  the  absolute  unity  of  opposites.  This  prin- 
ciple is  confronted  by  the  world,  where,  in  virtue 
of  the  underlying  unity,  the  several  opposites  of 
thought  and  being,  real  and  ideal,  manifest  them- 
selves as  diverse,  indeed,  yet  not  inconsistent. 
This  interfusion  of  real  and  ideal,  if  the  former 
preponderates,  is  nature ;  if  the  latter  prepon- 
derates, it  is  reason.  Reason  and  nature,  how- 
ever, tend  towards  a  state  of  mutual  adjustment, 
reason  becoming  nature  by  its  activity,  and  nature 
likewise  labouring  to  become  reason.  Thus  ethics 
becomes  physics,  and  physics  ethics.  Still  another 
opposition  confronts  true  scientific  knowledge. 
Our  thought  is  at  once  speculative  and  conditioned 
by  experience.  Hence  the  science  of  reason  and 
the  science  of  nature  have  each  a  speculative  and 
an  empirical  side.  The  speculative  science  of 
reason  is  ethics ;  the  empirical  is  history.  The 
speculative  science  of  nature  is  Natur-philosophie, 
while  the  empirical  embraces  the  special  natural 
sciences.  Ethics  and  history  are  interlinked  by 
technical  and  critical  studies.  Such  is  Schleier- 
macher's  way  of  making  ethics  an  organic  part  of 
universal  science. 

4.  General  investigation. — It  appears  from  the 
foregoing  synopsis  that  moralists  differ  very 
greatly  in  regard  to  consistency  as  applied  to 
ethical  theory,  the  main  cleavage  corresponding 
to  that  between  the  empirical  and  the  rational 
interpretation  of  morality.  If  morality  be  re- 
garded as  merely  a  means  to  the  greatest  possible 
good,  then  reason  itself  must  be  similarly  inter- 
preted, and,  on  this  view,  consistency  comes  into 
consideration  only  in  so  far  as  it  is  conducive  to 
the  same  end.  This  general  good,  it  is  alleged, 
is  best  served  by  obedience  to  rules  which  have 
been  inferred  from  experience.  But  absolute  laws, 
laws  permitting  of  no  exception,  are  scarcely  with- 
in the  scope  of  such  a  hypothesis.  General  rules 
are  deduced  from  limited  empirical  data,  and,  if 
such  data  be  augmented,  the  rules  will  be  corre- 
spondingly modified.  They  are,  by  their  very 
structure,  incompatible  with  absolute  validity. 
Should  it  be  asserted,  for  instance,  that  a  man 
must,  with  a  view  to  his  own  happiness,  subor- 
dinate his  personal  interests  to  those  of  others, 
this  law  will  be  recognized  by  him  only  so  long  as 
he  finds  it  to  his  own  advantage.  Thus  ethics,  if 
it  be  but  a  means  to  a  relative  end,  cannot  itself  get 
beyond  relativity,  and  must  renounce  consistency. 

The  same  result  follows  when  a  purely  empirical 
theory  of  development  is  applied  to  morality. 
Altered  conditions  or  the  progress  of  civilization 
will  necessitate  a  change  in  moral  laws.  Since, 
on  this  theory,  ethics  merely  summarizes  the  best 
directions  for  human  well-being  under  given  cir- 
cumstances, and  since  the  variability  of  such 
directions  and  maxims  is  held  to  prove  the  relative 
character  of  the  science,  strict  consistency  is  put 
out  of  court.  As  corroborative  of  this  view,  it  is 
alleged,  in  particular,  that  ethics  must  needs  keep 
within  the  limits  of  the  attainable,  and  that  it  is 
impossible  to  apply  the  idea  of  consistency  at  all 
hazards.  If  we  bear  in  mind  the  way  in  which 
men  really  act,  the  way  in  which  impulses,  feel- 
ings, and  passions  are  adjusted  by  the  psychical 
mechanism,  and  in  which  we  become  conscious  of 
this  adjusting  process,  we  can  formulate  rules 
which,  so  far  from  remaining  mere  ideals,  take 
account  of  men's  actual  capacities  and  circum- 
stances, and  are  therefore  capable  of  being  put 
into  practice. 

But  even  the  most  extreme  empiricism  must 
allow  that  morality  emerges  only  when  certain 
demands  are  made  in  reference  to  the  data  of 
experience — demands  which   this   school   finds  so 


little  self-explanatory  that  it  has  recourse  to  all 
manner  of  '  sanctions '  to  establish  their  authority. 
Without  the  antithesis  of  an  ideal  confronting  the 
data  of  experience  as  a  regulative  law,  morality  is 
impossible.  It  may,  indeed,  be  said  that  this  ideal 
is  simply  the  resultant  of  our  empirical  value- 
judgments,  a  product  derived  from  experience  by 
abstraction.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  law  of  altru- 
ism, as  against  egoism,  may  be  traced  to  the 
experience  that  other-regarding  conduct  brings  an 
increase  of  satisfaction.  But  the  question  then 
arises  whether  this  generalization  is  universally 
valid ;  and,  again,  whence  conies  the  faculty  by 
which  such  generalizations  are  made.  The  truth 
is,  this  faculty  of  abstraction  is  that  by  which  we 
colligate  the  manifold  in  a  unity,  on  the  assumption 
that  it  is  amenable  to  law.  The  ideal  set  up  by 
the  moral  reason  is  something  more  than  an  aggre- 
gate of  rules,  derived  by  abstraction  from  value- 
judgments  ;  it  is  in  reality  reason's  own  craving 
for  unity,  which  it  seeks  to  realize  in  the  ethical 
judgment  it  applies  to  the  facts  of  volition.  The 
unity  which  is  not  overtly  given  in  our  various 
impulses,  feelings,  and  passions  is  demanded  by 
reason,  and  the  demand  cannot  be  met  by  anything 
relative.  It  is  a  fact  that  a  number  of  moralists 
take  their  stand  upon  the  unconditional  character 
of  morality  ;  and  this  fact  can  neither  be  explained 
nor  explained  away  by  the  empirical  school. 
Reason  cannot  rest  till  it  has  moulded  the  mani- 
fold into  a  unity,  and  in  the  ethical  field  this 
means  not  only  that  reason  constructs  ideals,  but 
that  its  ideals  are  consistent.  It  is,  of  course,  true 
that  different  epochs  have  different  ideals,  but 
this  by  no  means  implies  that  the  ideals  of  any 
period  were  defective  in  the  matter  of  consistency. 
Reason  has  built  up  its  ideals  in  ever-enlarging 
form ;  it  has  in  ever-increasing  measure  incor- 
porated therein  the  various  spheres  of  conduct ; 
and,  by  defining  the  mutual  relations  of  these 
spheres,  it  has  attained  perfect  symmetry  in  its 
ideal.  Indeed,  reason  has  at  length  reached  a 
point  where  it  can  survey  the  whole  historical 
sequence  of  ideals  in  a  single  view,  and  where  it 
seeks  to  grasp  the  process  of  development  by  which 
the  approved  elements  of  the  earlier  ideals  are 
taken  up  into  the  ampler  range  of  the  later.  In 
short,  if  by  an  inherent  necessity  the  moral  reason 
is  to  carry  out  its  task  of  ideal-making,  and  if  its 
demand  for  unity  is  put  forward  unconditionally, 
then  the  entire  field  of  voluntary  action  must  be 
subjected  to  its  authority,  and  its  ideal  must  seek 
to  effect  the  complete  organization  of  moral  life. 
In  ethics,  therefore,  consistency  is  an  unconditional 
requirement.  Since  the  whole  spiritual  life  of 
man  is  touched  by  the  will,  it  must  of  necessity 
fall  under  the  moral  ideal. 

It  has  been  said,  indeed,  that  the  concept  can 
never  reach  the  concrete,  the  particular.  But, 
while  this  is  the  case,  we  can  nevertheless  form  the 
concept  of  the  particular,  and  can  accordingly 
assign  the  particular  to  its  proper  place  in  the 
ethical  system,  subordinating  it  to  the  whole  in 
such  a  way  as  to  make  it  an  organic  part  thereof — 
a  component  which,  so  far  from  causing  any  dis- 
location, really  works  with  all  the  rest  as  mutually 
complementary,  and  is  thus  wrought  into  the 
harmony  of  the  whole.  If  it  be  deemed  pedantic 
thus  to  bestrew  the  whole  way  of  life  '  with  man- 
traps of  duty,'  it  must  be  frankly  conceded  that 
there  are  sections  of  life  where  movement  must  be 
free,  as,  for  example,  the  sphere  of  recreation,  of 
sociality,  of  imagination,  or  the  aesthetic  sphere. 
But  the  moral  ideal  encompasses  these  tracts  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  permit  a  certain  freedom 
therein,  provided  that  there  be  no  over-stepping  of 
the  limits  laid  down  by  the  moral  system  as  a 
whole.     Here,  therefore,  we  have  no  exception  to 


70 


CONSISTENCY  (H'thical) 


the  moral  law,  but  simply  an  application  of  the 
ethical  principle  that  each  sphere  shall  be  dealt 
with  in  its  own  way,  while  ever  remaining  a 
constituent  part  of  the  moral  organism,  and  keep- 
ing within  its  own  bounds.  Here  too,  therefore, 
the  unifying  formative  reason  may  manifest  itself 
in  constructing  ideals. 

Further,  consistency,  to  be  effective,  must  be 
complete.  No  doubt,  it  is  at  present  a  prevalent 
view  that  a  narrow  and  one-sided  policy  achieves 
the  best  results.  An  oppressed  class,  for  instance, 
demands  its  rights  :  these  are  not  to  be  won,  it  is 
said,  by  deliberations  as  to  how  that  particular 
section  of  society  is  to  be  fitted  into  the  social 
organism  ;  nothing  but  the  ruthless  enforcement 
of  its  claims  can  secure  for  it  improved  conditions 
of  life,  though  eventually,  of  course,  such  ameliora- 
tion may  benefit  the  whole.  Again,  it  is  asserted 
that  a  State  attains  prosperity  not  by  enthusiasm 
for  the  ideal  of  humanity,  but  by  a  self-centred 
struggle  for  a  recognized  place  in  the  council  of  the 
nations.  Or,  again,  the  individual  who  has  formed 
new  religious  views  must,  it  is  held,  not  walk 
softly  or  make  compromises,  but  must  carry  his 
views  into  effect  ruthlessly,  i.e.  consistently. 
Mankind,  in  short,  makes  progress  only  by  the 
one-sided  pursuit  of  narrow  aims.  Society  is  so 
constituted  that,  while  one  man  is  carrying  out  his 
ideals  with  inexorable  consistency,  his  action  is 
being  circumscribed  by  the  interests  of  others. 
The  whole  process  culminates  in  the  mutual 
adjustment  of  interests.  Thus  the  striving  of 
reason  for  unity  at  length  attains  its  end  uncon- 
sciously, although  the  several  parts  seemed  to  be 
inharmoniously  distributed.  Progress  is  secured 
by  mutual  conflict.  It  is  wrong,  therefore,  to  lay 
the  burden  of  this  final  adjustment  upon  the 
individual ;  all  that  we  can  expect  from  him  is 
consistency  in  his  own  particular  sphere,  and  in 
the  advocacy  of  his  special  interests. 

Plausible  as  such  a  theory  may  seem,  and 
numerous  as  are  its  champions,  it  is  nevertheless 
untenable.  Were  it  consciously  put  into  practice, 
it  would  forthwith  plunge  nations,  classes,  muni- 
cipalities, and  individuals — in  fact,  human  society 
at  large — into  embittered  strife,  without  a  single 
reconciling  element.  Passions  would  become  ram- 
pant, and  animosities  more  virulent.  We  must 
preferably  hold  to  the  other  view,  viz.  that  the 
individual  shall  recognize  the  rights  of  others ; 
that  each  class,  each  group,  shall  feel  itself  to  be 
an  organic  part  of  the  larger  whole,  the  State ; 
and  each  nation  a  section  of  the  human  race  ;  and 
that  in  the  conflict  of  opinion  every  man  shall  take 
pains  to  apprehend  what  is  good  in  the  view  of 
others.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  not  laid  upon 
men  to  prosecute  their  individual  aims  with  relent- 
less consistency,  but  rather  to  realize  those  aims 
in  a  manner  compatible  with  the  ideal,  so  that 
personal  interests  may  be  advanced  without  detri- 
ment to  the  larger  whole.  Such  a  mode  of  appre- 
hending the  moral  task  demands,  without  doubt,  a 
higher  degree  of  intelligence.  But  a  consistency 
which  is  merely  sectional  is  no  consistency  at  all, 
and  is  incapable  of  securing  true  progress,  for  it 
carries  within  itself  the  seed  of  reaction,  which 
will  sooner  or  later  germinate.  Moral  development 
proceeds  from  the  more  simple  conditions  to  the 
more  complex ;  but,  for  that  very  reason,  the  prime 
necessity  is  to  gain  control  of  these  complicated 
conditions  by  taking  into  account  the  various 
relevant  elements  which  they  contain,  and  by 
subordinating  them  to  the  unifying  and  moulding 
power  of  reason.  Our  abiding  problem  is  to 
systematize  the  whole  ethical  data  in  harmony 
with  the  ideal,  for  only  such  an  issue  can 
adequately  meet  the  unconditional  demand  for 
unity  which  reason  makes. 


5.  Consistency  between  the  moral  ideal  and 
practice.  —  The  more  perfectly  consistency  is 
attained  in  the  formation  of  ideals,  the  less 
possible  is  it  to  ignore  the  discrepancy  between 
the  ideal  and  the  actual  moral  situation.  When 
the  reality  is  compared  with  the  ideal,  it  appears 
incongruous,  contradictory,  one-sided,  narrow, 
circumscribed,  rent  by  antitheses — in  a  word,  bad  ; 
while  the  ideal  itself  seems  but  a  futile  and  im- 
practicable demand.  In  particular,  it  is  rational 
ethics,  with  its  special  insistence  upon  a  logically 
constructed  ideal,  which  is  mainly  affected  by  the 
discrepancy,  so  that  its  boasted  consistency  would 
here  seem  to  become  abortive.  Plato  traces  the 
defects  of  the  empirical  world — as  compared  with 
the  Idea — to  matter,  and  thus  ends  in  dualism. 
Spinoza  deduces  not  only  the  inadequate  ideas  and 
affections,  but  also  the  adequate  ideas — not  only 
human  servitude,  but  also  human  freedom — from 
the  same  mathematical  necessity,  and  can  there- 
fore make  his  ideal  avail  at  most  only  for  the 
favoured  few.  Nor  could  Hegel  dislodge  this 
discrepancy  ;  for,  though  he  held  the  antithesis  to 
be  the  very  mainspring  of  progress,  and  as  such  to 
be  subject  to  logical  sequence,  the  contradiction 
was  not  thereby  removed.  Above  all,  Kant  felt 
the  opposition  between  the  practical  reason  and 
the  natural  propensities  so  intensely  that  he  went 
to  the  very  verge  of  dualism.  Even  Schleiermacher 
was  forced  to  recognize  a  difference  between  the 
speculative  moral  ideal  and  actual  moral  practice, 
and  accordingly  he  introduced — in  his  Christian 
Ethics — a  '  purifying  activity,'  which  was  in  reality 
a  confession  of  the  discrepancy.  Now  this  contra- 
diction seems  to  turn  the  consistency  of  the  moral 
ideal  into  a  mere  abstraction.  Consequently  many 
thinkers  of  to-day  would  have  us  recognize  a 
certain  irrational  factor  in  the  world,  a  factor 
which  necessarily  precludes  a  consistent  application 
of  the  moral  ideal  to  the  facts  of  life.  According 
to  von  Hartmann,  the  will  is  non-logical,  and  the 
sole  task  of  ethics  is  to  evince  this  fact,  moral 
action  being  in  the  end  simply  an  anodyne  to  the 
will,  which  finds  no  satisfaction  in  any  moral 
result.  Here  the  antagonism  is  carried  to  such  a 
point  that  moral  action  is  made  a  means  to  its 
own  ultimate  abrogation.  From  all  this  it  would 
appear  that  the  consistent  formation  of  ideals,  as 
essayed  more  especially  by  the  rational  school  of 
moralists,  comes  to  grief  upon  the  incongruity 
between  the  ideal  and  the  actual. 

Now  this  would  undoubtedly  be  true,  were  the 
construction  of  ideals  the  final  task  of  ethics. 
Such,  however,  is  not  the  case.  Nature,  and 
especially  human  nature,  is  so  constituted  that  it 
must  have  recourse  to  reason  as  a  means  to  its  own 
harmony  and  perfection.  The  first  stage,  there- 
fore, is  the  idealizing  activity  of  reason,  the  out- 
come of  which  is  the  rationally  harmonized  image 
of  nature.  But  this  is  only  the  first  stage ;  and, 
when  once  consistency  has  been  realized  here,  a 
further  advance  is  made,  for  now  practice  is  to  be 
moulded  into  conformity  with  the  ideal.  Thus 
the  contradiction  above  noted  is  simply  a  necessary 
point  of  transition — necessary,  that  is,  if  we  are  to 
have  ethical  life  or  action  at  all.  In  other  words, 
if  moral  results  are  to  be  achieved  by  the  rational 
activity  of  the  soul,  then  the  end,  the  task  set 
before  us,  must  first  of  all  be  known  ;  and  only 
when  it  is  known  can  we  proceed  to  the  task  of 
realizing  it.  The  antithesis  between  the  rational 
ideal  and  human  nature,  as  it  is,  is  not  an  absolute 
one.  The  truth  is  rather,  that  life,  as  we  know 
it,  awaits  the  rational  action  of  the  soul  as  the 
medium  by  which  it  is  to  be  harmonized  and  trans- 
figured. The  initial,  or  idealizing,  stage  of  the 
moral  process  of  reason  is  therefore  responsible 
for  no  more  than  the  harmonious,  consistent  for- 


CONSOLATION,  COMFORT  (Christian) 


71 


mation  of  the  ideal.  Once  this  has  been  attained, 
consistency  makes  the  further  demand  that  the 
ideal  shall  not  remain  a  bare  ideal,  but  shall  be 
realized.  It  is  impossible  to  rest  satisfied  with  the 
mere  self-consistency  of  the  ideal :  consistency 
must  also  govern  its  practical  application  to  life. 

Now,  as  regards  this  practical  accomplishment 
of  the  ideal,  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  there  are 
two  factors  in  the  process.  There  is,  first  of  all, 
the  application  of  the  ideal  to  the  concrete  facts  of 
life ;  and,  secondly,  its  realization  on  the  part  of 
the  will.  In  either  aspect  we  must  take  account 
of  consistency,  i.e.  of  the  requirement  that  the 
unifying  impulse  of  reason  shall  operate  throughout 
with  absolute  authority. 

The  application  of  the  ideal  to  the  concrete  case 
implies  the  faculty  of  taste  or  judgment, — Kant's 
Urtheilskraft, — the  instinctive  form  of  which  is 
conscience.  In  accordance  with  what  has  already 
been  said,  this  immediate  judgment  of  conscience 
cannot  be  self-sustaining,  but,  in  so  far  as  it  is 
valid,  it  pre-supposes  knowledge  of  the  moral  ideal, 
as  well  as  the  right  use  of  the  concrete  ideas  of  the 
end  which  have  been  grafted  upon  the  ideal  by 
education.  Now,  since  practical  life  sets  particular 
tasks  before  us,  and  since  a  particular  task  requires 
a  particular  time  for  its  performance,  the  question 
arises,  what  action  ought  to  ensue  at  a  given 
moment — for,  of  course,  the  ideal,  as  something 
concrete,  has  various  sides.  But  it  is  impossible 
to  act  consistently  with  reference  to  more  than  one 
side  at  a  time,  and,  if  we  take  the  one  nearest  to  us 
as  the  most  important,  our  act  will  be  consistent 
in  a  partial  sense  only.  The  ecclesiastic,  for 
example,  may  fix  his  mind  so  intently  upon  the 
interests  of  his  church  as  to  be  oblivious  of  other 
duties.  Such  a  one-sided  consistency  is  the  result 
of  limitation,  and  leads  to  fanaticism  :  fiat  justitia, 
pereat  mundus  !  We  may,  in  fact,  find  a  con- 
sistency which  is  so  rigid  as  to  verge  upon  puer- 
ility, as,  e.g.,  when  some  positive  law,  such  as 
Sabbath-observance,  is  over-emphasized  in  the 
manner  of  the  Pharisees.  The  vital  matter  is 
rather  to  keep  the  ideal  before  the  mind  in  every 
act.  Every  act  must  be  of  such  a  kind  as  will,  in 
its  degree  and  place,  further  the  entire  moral 
process ;  only  so  can  the  ideal  be  realized  in  each 
particular  case.  This  may  seem  too  great  a  burden 
to  lay  upon  the  generality  of  mankind.  How 
many,  it  may  he  asked,  are  so  far  advanced  in 
ethical  knowledge,  or  so  proficient  in  the  exercise 
of  their  judgment,  as  to  be  capable  of  subjecting 
every  case  to  such  thorough-going  reflexion  ?  The 
majority  trust  to  their  conscience,  which  may  be 
said  to  express  the  average  ethical  culture  of  the 
day,  and  at  best  they  plead  for  some  modification 
of  the  universal  law  in  view  of  their  personal 
circumstances.  For  instance,  in  regard  to  the 
obligation  of  philanthropy,  they  point  to  the  state 
of  their  resources,  or  to  their  responsibility  to  those 
that  have  the  first  claim  upon  them  ;  and,  on  the 
whole,  they  fare  wonderfully  well  with  this 
instinctive  judgment,  for  they  are  in  this  way 
making  a  genuinely  consistent  application  of  the 
ideal.  The  explanation  is,  of  course,  that  every 
man  finds  himself  in  a  certain  situation,  in  certain 
definite  relationships ;  and  a  whole  array  of  actions 
— provision  for  one's  family,  assiduity  in  one's 
calling,  etc. — have  become  matters  of  use  and 
wont.  With  respect  to  such  things  there  grows  up 
a  certain  moral  conviction,  which  requires  no 
special  preliminary  consideration,  since,  so  to 
speak,  it  has  become  transformed  into  flesh  and 
blood.  Thus  the  immediate  judgment  of  conscience 
is,  in  general,  the  consistent  application  of  the 
ideal  to  the  particular  case. 

It  is  different  when  one  takes  an  active  part  in 
public  life.    Exact  knowledge  will  then  be  required, 


so  that  one's  decisions  may  be  of  the  right  kind ; 
and  a  mature  reflexion  upon  one's  own  faculty  of 
judgment  will  be  no  more  than  proper.  The  same 
thing  applies  when  we  are  confronted  with  impor- 
tant issues.  Here  also  a  man  must  carefully 
weigh  all  the  salient  facts  of  the  situation,  so  that 
his  action  may  in  its  own  measure  meet  the  entire 
moral  demands  of  the  occasion.  The  realization 
of  the  ideal  will  in  such  instances  call  for  a 
developed  tact  and  foresight,  while  these  qualities 
will  also  be  needed  in  order  to  understand  the 
faculties  by  which,  and  the  conditions  in  which, 
we  must  act,  as  well  as  the  laws  of  the  objects  we 
wish  to  work  upon.  Self-knowledge  and  know- 
ledge of  facts  are  the  pre-requisites  of  framing 
right  ends  and  applying  appropriate  means.  No 
relaxation  of  consistency  is  discernible  here,  for  it 
is  precisely  the  world  as  given  which  is  to  be 
transformed  by  the  moral  ideal.  On  the  contrary, 
consistency  demands  that  everything  necessary  to 
the  accomplishment  of  that  great  end  shall  be  done. 

When,  however,  the  intelligence  has  been  thus 
brought  to  bear  consistently  upon  particular  cases, 
it  is  then  required,  first,  that  the  will  shall  har- 
monize with  the  intelligence,  and,  secondly,  that 
the  appropriate  mental  and  bodily  organs  shall  be  at 
the  disposal  of  the  will.  The  former  desideratum 
is  in  this  instance  the  fundamental  union  of  the 
will  with  the  moral  ideal,  i.e.  the  good  will  com- 
bined with  love  or  enthusiasm  for  the  ideal.  This 
good  will  is  also  of  crucial  importance  for  particular 
volitions.  But,  in  the  second  place,  the  volition 
can  be  carried  into  effect  only  by  the  exercise  of 
the  relative  organs,  and  here  the  significance  of 
psychology  and  psychophysics  for  ethics  comes  into 
view.  We  need  not,  however,  speak  of  this  aspect 
in  detail.  Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  in 
ethics  the  idea  of  consistency,  alike  in  the  forma- 
tion and  in  the  practical  realization  of  the  moral 
ideal,  is  of  decisive  importance. 

Literature. — G.  Simmel,  Einleit.  in  die  Moralwissensch. 
(Berlin,  1892-93);  H.  Spencer,  Data  of  Ethics*  (Lond.  1879), 
cf.  first  Princ.  (1862),  xiv.-xvii.,  xxii.-xxiv. ;  H.  Sidgwick, 
Methods  of  Ethics 6  (Lond.  1901);  Schleiermacher,  Entumrf 
eines  Systems  der  Sittenlehre,  ed.  A.  Schweitzer  (Berlin,  1834- 
64),  Gen.  Introd.,  and  pt.  iii.  Introd. ;  J.  J.  Baumann,  Handb. 
der  Moral  (Gott.  1879),  esp.  pp.  1-179,  treating  of  the  psycho- 
logical conditions  of  moral  practice ;  Kant,  Kritik  der  reinen 
Vernunft,  ed.  Rosenkranz,  ii.  418-437,  Kritik  der  praktischen 
Vernunft,  viii.,  Grundlegung  zur  Metaphysik  der  Sitten;  R. 
Rothe,  Theol.  Ethik*  (Wittenberg,  1869-70),  ii.  Einleit. ;  A. 
Dorner,  Das  menschliche  Handeln  (Berlin,  1895),  Introd.  Iff., 
and  287  ff.  A.   DORNER. 

CONSOLATION,  COMFORT  (Christian).— 
Consolation  is  an  act  or  process  of  giving  comfort ; 
the  state  of  being  comforted  ;  or  the  condition  and 
consciousness  of  relief  from  anxiety  and  distress, 
or  of  support  in  sorrow  and  affliction.  Comfort  is 
a  complex  emotion  induced  by  means  of  consola- 
tion, or  the  act  or  process  of  comforting;  but, 
although  it  is  to  be  classed  among  the  emotional 
states,  it  has  certain  well-defined  presentational 
aspects.  In  its  fullest,  and  especially  in  its  re- 
ligious, sense,  there  is  the  consciousness  of  a  person 
whose  presence,  words,  or  acts  are  the  source  of 
the  feeling  of  comfort,  and  constitute  the  consoling 
element.  Although  there  are  several  weakened 
uses  of  the  term  '  comfort,'  and  it  is  often  em- 
ployed in  an  abstract  and  derived  sense,  the  per- 
sonal (or  quasi-personal)  source  is  always  implied. 
The  immediate  effect  upon  the  will  is  that  of  solace 
or  soothing,  restraint  from  agonizing  or  neurotic 
effort,  and  the  inhibition  of  excited  acts.  The  sub- 
conscious effect  is  that  of  a  tonic,  and  the  will  is 
braced  thereby  for  healthful  exercise.1  Whilst  the 
consciousness  of  a  personal  presence  and  influence 
is  the  dominant  feature  in  religious  consolation, 
there  is  always,  in  the  background  at  least,  the 
presentation   of    something    that    produces    pain, 

1  See  W.  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  506. 


72 


CONSOLATION,  COMFORT  (Christian) 


distress,  or  anxiety.  Probably  in  most  cases  the 
cause  of  the  painful  feeling  is  at  first  the  focus  of 
attention,  but  the  process  of  consolation  forces  it 
into  the  background  as  the  comfort  is  being  ex- 
perienced. The  consciousness  of  personal  help  and 
support  is  the  positive  element  in  the  case,  whilst 
the  negative  is  the  sense  of  relief  and  mitigation. 

As  consolation  and  comfort  play  an  exceedingly 
important  part  in  the  Christian  consciousness  and 
in  the  offices  of  religion,  the  connotation  of  these 
terms  in  devotional  literature  is  in  general  identi- 
cal with  Scripture  usage,  from  which  it  is  derived. 
The  Heb.  word  riper:  (Ps  11950,  Job  610)  has  its  root- 
meaning  in  the  act  of  breathing  pantingly  or 
sighing,  probably  as  the  expression  of  deep,  sym- 
pathetic feeling  on  the  part  of  the  consoler.  It 
especially  refers  to  God  as  the  Comforter  of  His 
people  in  their  affliction,  calamity,  or  persecution, 
or  even  in  their  repentance.  In  most  cases,  as  in 
Ps  119M-'6,  comfort  is  given  to  the  righteous,  as 
such,  in  their  tribulation,  but  in  some  other 
instances,  as  in  Is  401,  the  comfort  follows  upon 
repentance,  and  Jahweh  is  represented  as  having 
changed  from  His  state  of  anger  to  that  of  pity 
and  compassion  for  His  people.  The  richest  form 
of  comfort  in  the  OT  is  probably  what  is  often 
designated  '  the  motherhood  of  God '  (Is  6613).1 

The  NT  conception  of  consolation  and  comfort 
in  general  has  no  reference  to  sin,  but  refers  rather 
to  the  persecution,  distress,  and  tribulation  to 
which  the  faithful  are  exposed.  The  word  most 
frequently  employed  is  Trapd/cX^iris,  whose  primary 
significance  is  that  of  the  ministrations  of  one 
called  to  assist,  counsel,  or  relieve.  irapa/jivBLa. 
(1  Co  14s  only)  refers  to  comfort  given  by  word  or 
speech,  whilst  Tap-qyopla  (Col  4"  only)  brings  out 
the  aspect  of  soothing.  The  presence  of  God  is  the 
dominant  feature  in  Christian  consolation,  together 
with  the  promises,  assurances,  and  pledges  of  sup- 
port and  ultimate  victory  through  Christ.  God 
as  manifested  in  Christ  is  the  Comforter  of  His 
children ;  but  more  specifically  the  presence  and 
power  of  God  realized  in  the  Spirit,  through  whom 
Christ  returned  to  His  disciples  at  Pentecost,  in- 
dicate the  significance  of  the  Holy  Spirit  being 
designated  the  Comforter  (jrapekXjjros,  Jn  1416-  * 
1526  167). 

There  are  two  instances  in  the  NT  where  com- 
fort may  be  considered  to  have  reference  to  repent- 
ance and  forgiveness.  The  first  instance  is  that 
of  the  second  Beatitude  (Mt  5*),  but  it  is  by  no 
means  certain  that  the  'mourning'  (ol  Trev8ovi>Tes) 
refers  to  one's  own  sin.  The  other  case  is  in 
2  Co  710,  where  it  appears  that  St.  Paul  experi- 
ences the  comfort  on  account  of  the  godly  sorrow 
which  is  felt  by  the  Corinthian  converts.  The 
most  familiar  instance  in  devotional  literature  of 
the  function  of  comfort  in  remission  of  sin  is  in  the 
Book  of  Common  Prayer  immediately  after  the 
Absolution,  in  the  Office  of  Holy  Communion : 
'  Hear  what  comfortable  words  our  Saviour  Christ 
saith,'  etc.  The  personal  ministrations  of  sym- 
pathy, love,  and  support  in  the  midst  of  sorrow 
and  pain  are  far  more  prominent  in  the  NT  and 
in  Christian  literature  than  deliverance  from  the 
evils  themselves.  It  is  as  though  the  inevitable- 
ness  of  suffering  were  recognized,  especially  the 
forms  of  it  that  Christians  are  called  upon  to  bear 
for  their  Master's  sake  and  as  incidental  to  their 
work  of  extending  the  Kedeemer's  kingdom.  '  All 
that  would  live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus  shall  suffer 
persecution '  (2  Ti  312).  In  the  sense,  therefore,  in 
which  tribulation  is  regarded  as  partaking  of 
Christ's  sufferings,  and  as  the  result  of  well-doing 

1  The  Arab-  <k  jt7  signifies  the  act  of  '  being  kind  to,'  or 
' patient  with '  (a  person),  and  consequently  'comfort.' 


or  endured  for  righteousness'  sake,  consolation  is 
not  given  in  the  form  of  the  removal  of  such 
grievances,  but  in  the  consciousness  of  the  Divine 
presence  and  approval,  and  the  grace  of  God  to  sup- 
port and  sustain  throughout  all  these  experiences. 

Whilst  the  Divine  Being  is  the  ultimate  source 
of  comfort,  the  '  Father  of  mercies  and  God  of  all 
comfort'  (2  Co  1st'),  it  is  explicitly  taught  by  St. 
Paul  that  Christian  believers  should  in  their  turn 
become  comforters  of  those  who  need  sympathy 
and  strength.  In  harmony  with  this  injunction, 
the  consolations  of  religion  may  be  administered  by 
the  officers  of  the  Church  and  by  all  who  have  had 
to  pass  through  such  experiences  themselves.  They 
are  to  be  the  instruments  whereby  the  Divine  com- 
fort is  mediated  and  brought  to  bear  upon  other 
souls  and  lives.  Barnabas,  who  was  exceptionally 
gifted  in  this  respect,  was  fitly  surnamed  '  son  of 
consolation '  (vl&s  irapaKMiaews,  Ac  4s6). 

The  circumstances  under  which  the  administra- 
tion of  consolation  is  needed  by  the  Christian  and 
generally  commented  upon  in  devotional  and  in 
homiletical  literature  will  now  be  summarized. 

(1)  Physical  or  mental  limitations,  pain,  or 
distress. — The  comfort  consists  in  the  knowledge 
of  the  disciplinary  value  of  suffering,  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  transcendent  power  of  the 
spiritual  in  the  realized  infirmity  of  the  flesh, 
and  the  acquisition  and  development  of  the  gifts 
and  graces  of  sympathy,  tenderness,  and  gentle- 
ness with  other  sufferers,  together  with  patience 
and  fortitude.  'Tunc  non  est  melius  remedium 
quam  patientia,  et  abnegatio  mei  in'  voluntate 
Dei'  (a  Kempis,  de  Imit.  Christi,  lib.  ii.  c.  ix.  6). 
The  classic  example  of  this  form  of  consolation  is 
that  of  St.  PauPs  'thorn  in  the  flesh,'  and  his 
comment  thereupon,  '  Most  gladly  therefore  will  I 
rather  glory  in  my  weaknesses,  that  the  strength 
of  Christ  may  rest  upon  me  .  .  .  for  when  I  am 
weak,  then  am  I  strong'  (2  Co  1291-)- 

(2)  Anxiety,  perplexity,  and  care. — Here  the 
Christian  needs  the  assurance  that  he  is  in  the 
hands  of  an  All-wise  and  All-loving  Heavenly 
Father,  and  that,  so  long  as  he  makes  God's  cause 
and  kingdom  his  chief  interest  and  aim,  all  that 
is  necessary  for  the  effective  discharge  of  his  duty 
and  the  accomplishment  of  his  work  will  be  secured 
to  him  (Mt  6s3).  As  God  is  in  the  whole  environ- 
ment of  our  life,  so  shall  those  who  trust  in  Him 
be  under  His  direction,  as  they  are  beneath  His 
protecting  hand. 

(3)  Depression  and  spiritual  desolation. — The 
best  consolation  under  these  conditions  is  the 
exhortation  to  continue  in  the  prayerful  and  per- 
sistent discharge  of  duty  and  Christian  work,  and 
to  wait  patiently  for  the  revealing  of  God's  face 
and  favour,  and  especially  not  to  rely  too  exclu- 
sively upon  one's  feelings.  Von  Hiigel  points  out 
the  need  for  the  '  sober  and  stable,  consistent  and 
persistent,  laborious  upbuilding  of  moral  and  re- 
ligious character,  work,  and  evidence,'  instead  of 
yielding  to  '  fierce  and  fitful,'  '  wayward  and  fleet- 
ing feelings,'  in  the  hours  of  darkness  and  isolation 
of  soul  {The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,  i.  5f.). 
The  exercise  of  faith  strengthens  the  Christian  in 
the  consciousness  that  prayer  for  light  and  joy 
will  sooner  or  later  be  heard,  and  that  the  inner 
witness  will  be  given. 

(4)  Difficulty  in  Christian  work,  opposition  and 
persecution. — Here  the  conflict  of  wills  comes  into 
play,  and  the  determination  of  the  heart  against 
God  and  in  defiance  of  the  gracious  influences  that 
are  brought  into  operation.  This  is  particularly 
distressing  when,  as  in  the  time  of  persecution, 
the  opposition  assumes  an  aggressive  form.  Chris- 
tians are  exhorted  in  the  NT  not  to  grow  faint- 
hearted or  weary  in  bearing  their  testimony  even 
though  they  may  have  to  seal  it  with  their  blood 


CONSOLATION  (Greek  and  Roman) 


73 


They  are  encouraged  to  take  comfort  in  the  pro- 
spect and  promise  of  the  ultimate  triumph  of  the 
truth  and  the  all-conquering  power  of  love  which 
refuses  not  to  suffer  and  to  die.  Moreover,  they 
are  to  regard  their  sufferings  borne  in  love  on 
behalf  of  others  as  the  means  whereby  the  hearts 
of  their  opponents  and  persecutors  are  to  be  reached, 
and  they  are  taught  to  pray  and  hope  that  the 
opposition  will  be  ultimately  broken  down.  The 
line  of  consolation  adopted  by  the  Fathers  in  en- 
couraging the  Churches  to  endure  persecution  was 
in  general  to  remind  them  of  the  predictions  of  our 
Lord  and  the  Apostles  (Irenseus,  adv.  Hasr.  lib.  iv. 
c.  xxiii. ) ;  to  point  to  the  notable  examples  of 
martyrdom,  from  the  death  of  Abel  to  the  passion 
of  our  Lord  (Cyprian,  Ep.  Iv.) ;  and  also  to  seek  to 
win  the  hearts  of  men  by  '  Christ's  new  way  of 
patience '  (Tert.  adv.  Marcion.  lib.  iv.  c.  16). 

(5)  Bereavement. — Those  who  are  bereaved  are 
comforted  by  the  blessed  memories  of  the  past, 
which  ever  remain  as  a  sacred  treasure,  and  by 
the  promises  that  they  shall  meet  again  those  who 
die  in  the  Lord,  for  their  life  is  assured  in  the 
Resurrection  life  of  the  Conqueror  of  death  and 
the  grave.  St.  Ambrose  stated  the  ground  of  the 
Christian's  hope  thus :  '  Habent  gentiles  solatia 
sua,  quia  reqmem  malorum  omnium  mortem  existi- 
mant.  .  .  .  Nos  vero  ut  erectiores  praemio,  ita 
etiam  patientiores  solatio  esse  debemus  ;  non  enim 
amitti,  sed  praemitti  videntur,  quos  non  assumptura 
mors,  sed  aeternitas  receptura  est '  (de  Excessu 
Fratris  sui  Satyri,  lib.  i.  c.  71).  St.  Paul  refers 
to  the  state  of  the  sainted  dead,  and  their  final 
triumph  through  their  Lord,  and  admonishes  the 
Thessalonians  to  '  comfort  one  another  with  these 
words' (1  Th418). 

(6)  Death  and  the  fear  of  death. — Beyond  all 
other  consolations  the  consciousness  of  the  pres- 
ence and  power  of  Christ — the  Resurrection  ana  the 
Life,  who  has  triumphed  over  the  last  enemy — is 
assured  to  the  believer.  So  closely  related  is  the 
dying  saint  to  his  Lord,  that  St.  Paul  speaks  of 
him  as  being  amongst  those  who  are  asleep  in  (or 
through)  Jesus  (did.  tov  'Ii;<roD,  1  Th  414),  and  as 
dying  unto  the  Lord  (Ro  148).  This  thought  is 
also  carried  out  by  St.  John  in  the  Apocalypse : 
'  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord '  (iv 
Kvplifi,  Rev  14P).  This  relationship  ensures  to 
Christian  believers  the  hope  of  heaven,  eternal 
life,  and  a  glorious  resurrection. 

Whilst  the  experiences  here  summarized  call  for 
consolation,  and  that  consolation  is  found  in  the 
promises  of  Scripture  and  in  waiting  upon  God, 
there  is  always  an  implicit  reference  to  the  Divine 
Being  Himself  as  the  primary  source  of  comfort. 
Thomas  a  Kempis  clearly  expresses  this  when  he 
says :  '  Unde  non  poteris,  anima  mea,  plene  con- 
solari  nee  perfecte  recreari,  nisi  in  Deo,  consolatore 
pauperum  ae  susceptore  humilium '  (de  Imit.  Christi, 
lib.  iii.  c.  xvi.).  In  a  secondary  or  derived  sense, 
the  words  of  God,  His  attributes,  and  His  gifts  are 
often  referred  to  as  being  in  themselves  comforts, 
just  as,  in  ordinary  affairs,  material  things  are 
designated  '  comforts '  if  they  minister  to  our  well- 
being,  not  being  luxuries  on  the  one  hand,  or 
necessaries  on  the  other.  Also  it  is  one  of  the 
duties  and  privileges  of  Christian  believers  to  be 
the  means  of  communicating  the  comfort  they 
have  received  of  God  to  other  souls,  by  sympathy 
and  tenderness,  and  by  the  support  of  collective 
faith  and  intercessory  prayer.  In  the  exercise  of 
this  function  of  consolation,  the  reflex  action  is 
experienced,  which,  in  no  slight  degree,  brings  a 
sense  of  satisfaction,  and  even  of  joy,  in  being  of 
service  to  suffering  humanity. 

Further,  comfort  is  realized  by  Christians  in  the 
consciousness  of  community  with  their  Lord  in  His 
sufferings,   in  being  partakers  with  Him  in   the 


work  of  redemption,  in  drinking  of  the  cup  from 
which  He  drank,  and  in  being  baptized  with  His 
baptism.  In  tribulation  incurred  in  the  service  of 
humanity,  and  incidental  to  the  accomplishment 
of  His  work,  there  is,  as  St.  Paul  expressed  it,  the 
filling  up  what  is  lacking  of  the  afflictions  of  Christ 
(Col  1M).  The  Mystics  of  all  schools  have  always 
been  accustomed  to  direct  the  attention  of  the 
persecuted  to  the  cross  of  Christ  as  the  chief 
source  of  consolation,  especially  where  sufferings 
have  resulted  from  devotion  to  His  cause.  In  con- 
templating thus  the  marks  of  His  pain  and  anguish 
and  the  sense  of  desolation  that  He  endured  upon 
the  cross,  they  have  realized  that  they  were  one 
with  Him  in  bearing  reproach  and  ignominy,  even 
though  they  could  not  suffer  as  He  did  in  expiation 
of  human  guilt.  Moreover,  the  thought  of  the 
transcendence  of  Christ's  sufferings  inspired  a  feel- 
ing of  gratitude  and  an  inspiration  to  the  believing 
soul  to  endure  '  the  contradiction  of  sinners'  without 
complaint  or  impatience.  John  Newton,  in  his  well- 
known  hymn,  'Begone,  unbelief,'  etc.,  dwells  upon 
this  thought — '  Did  Jesus  thus  suffer,  and  shall  I 
repine  ? '  These  considerations  inspired  the  hymn 
of  John  Keble,  in  The  Christian  Year,  for  Good 
Friday,  that  to  the  cross  the  mourner's  eye  should 
turn  '  with  softer  power  for  comfort '  in  earth's 
darkest  hour  than  on  any  bright  day. 

The  full  meaning  of  Christian  consolation  is  not 
exhausted  apart  from  the  conception  of  the  mystic 
union  of  Christ  with  the  believer.  There  is  a  sense 
in  which  the  Church  has  ever  been  conscious  that, 
as  Christ  is  the  head  of  the  body  of  believers,  He 
suffers  not  only  for  their  sins,  but  in  all  the  sorrows 
and  tribulation  that  God's  people  have  to  endure. 
God's  consolation  is,  in  this  mystical  sense,  the 
realization  of  Christ's  presence  with  us  in  all  life's 
painful  experiences,  m  His  humanity  and  His 
eternal  priesthood.  The  realization  of  God's 
presence  in  Christ  bears  the  promise  of  ultimate 
triumph,  and,  although  Christ's  disciples  shall  have 
tribulation  in  the  world,  their  final  conquest  is 
secured  and  guaranteed  in  His  victory  over  all. 

Literature. — There  is  no  subject  more  frequently  referred  to 
in  the  whole  of  devotional  literature  than  consolation,  but  the 
specific  treatment  of  it  is  somewhat  slight.  For  psychological 
treatment,  see  W.  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience. 
London,  1902  (chapters  on  '  Saintliness '  and  '  Mysticism,'  and 
the  Conclusions) ;  Fr.  von  Hiigel,  The  Mystical  Element  of 
Religion,  2  vols.,  London,  1908-9  (esp.  the  Introduction  andpt. 
iii.).  Devotional  works :  Thomas  a  Kempis,  de  Imitatione 
Christi  (in  various  editions  and  Eng.  translations)  ;  St.  Francis 
de  Sales  frequent  references  scattered  throughout  his  writ- 
ing8); J-  H.  Burn,  Manual  of  Consolation,  London,  1902; 
Pere  Huguet,  The  Consoling  Thoughts  of  St.  Francis  de  Sales, 
Dublin,  n.  d.  ;  Frassinetti,  Consolation  of  a  Devout  Soul, 
London,  1875 ;  Cowper,  Newton,  Doddridge,  etc.,  Comfort 
for  the  Mourner,  London,  1822 ;  R.  Buchanan,  Comfort  in 
Affliction,  Edin.  1871;  C.  H.  Spurgeon,  Twelve  Sermons  for  the 
Troubled  and  Tried,  London,  1898 ;  J.  H.  Jowett,  Tlie  Silver 
Lining,  London,  1907-8 ;  E.  Romanes,  The  Hallowing  of 
Sorrow,  London,  1896  ;  H.  Black,  Comfort,  London,  1910.  Cf. 
also  Chrysostom,  ad  Stagirium  (PG  xlvii.)  ;  Honoratus,  Ep. 
consolatoria  {PL  1.) ;  J.  Hinton,  The  Mystery  of  Pain,  London, 
1866,  41870  ;  C.  Kingsley,  Out  of  the  Deep,  London,  1880  ;  S.  A. 
Brooke,  Sunshine  and  Shadow,  London,  1886;  J.  E.  Hopkins, 
Christ  the  Consoler-,  London,  1879,  «1884. 

J.  G.  James. 
CONSOLATION  (Greek  and  Roman).  — In 
Greece  the  germs  of  a  literature  of  consolation  can 
be  traced  to  ancient  times.  The  dead  were  com- 
memorated in  threnodies,  which  were  designed 
also  to  console  the  bereaved,  and  a  great  vogue 
was  enjoyed  by  a  threnos  of  Pindar,  in  which  the 
ideas  of  the  Orphic  eschatology  were  drawn  upon 
for  consolation,  and  which  is  made  use  of  in  the 
pseudo-Platonic  dialogue  Axiochos.  In  Athens  it 
was  customary,  probably  after  the  Persian  wars, 
to  engage  a  rhetor  to  deliver  a  funeral  oration — 
like  that,  e.g.,  which  Thucydides  puts  into  the 
mouth  of  Pericles — regarding  those  who  had  fallen 
in  battle  ;  and  it  was  usual  at  the  close  to  address 
the  relatives  in  consoling  terms.     Several  of  these 


74 


CONSTANCY 


orations  are  still  extant ;  one,  the  epitaphios  of 
Hyperides,  is  known  to  have  been  delivered  in 
322  B.C.  The  grounds  of  consolation  are  set  forth 
in  eh.  20  of  the  Menexenos  of  Plato,  which  is  a 
parody  upon  the  sophistic  epitaphios  of  the  type 
seen  in  that  composed  by  Gorgias.  Philosophy 
likewise  had  at  an  early  stage  wrought  out  certain 
consolatory  lines  of  thought,  and  it  is  possible  that 
the  writings  of  Antisthenes  the  Cynic  may  have 
suggested  what  Xenophon  makes  Socrates  say  in 
the  Apology.  Aristotle's  dialogue  '  Eudemus  on 
the  Soul,'  and  the  '  Callisthenes  on  Mourning' of 
Theophrastus,  were  also  well  stored  with  consoling 
sentiments.  But  the  standard  work  of  the  kind 
was  thatoi  Crantor  the  Academic  (c.  270  B.C.)  '  On 
Mourning,'  which  was  sent  by  the  author  to  a  friend 
whose  children  had  died,  and  which  Cicero  calls 
'  aureolus  et  ad  verbum  ediseendus  libellus'  (Acad. 
ii.  135).  As  it  treated  of  sorrow  not  as  a  repre- 
hensible emotion — in  the  manner  of  the  Stoics — ■ 
but  rather  as  a  natural  impulse,  requiring  only 
to  be  kept  within  bounds,  the  book  found  many 
readers ;  and,  when  Cicero,  in  45  B.  C. ,  essayed  the 
composition  of  his  Consolatio  for  his  own  comfort 
after  the  demise  of  his  daughter  Tullia,  he  made 
Crantor's  work  the  basis  of  his  own,  while  he 
reproduced  its  ideas  a  little  later  in  the  Disp.  Tusc. 
(esp.  i.  19-72).  Plutarch  does  the  same  thing  in 
the  piece  addressed  to  Apollonia.  Epicurus  also 
had  elaborated  many  comforting  sentiments,  as  he 
was  specially  concerned  to  deliver  men  from  the 
fear  of  death  ;  he  sought  to  convince  them  of  the 
painlessness  of  dying,  and  of  the  absolute  cessation 
of  perception  thereafter,  thus  grappling  with  the 
popular  superstitions  about  the  terrors  of  the  under 
world  (Lucret.  de  Rer.  Nat.  iii.,  with  Heinze's 
com.). 

Nor  had  the  rhetoricians  neglected  the  con- 
solatory oration,  and  in  the  Hellenistic  period — 
perhaps  even  from  the  time  of  Isocrates — they  had 
framed  for  this  species  of  composition  certain 
rules,  which  in  their  later  form  are  found  in  the 
liidobos  iinTatplav  of  pseudo-Dionysius  and  the  irepl 
TrapaixvBrfLKov  of  Menander  (4th  cent.  A.D.).  These 
rules  are  followed  not  merely  by  heathen,  but 
even  by  Christian,  funeral  discourses  (cf.  F.  Bauer, 
Die  Trostreden  des  Gregor  v.  Nyssa,  Marburg, 
1892).  It  is  specially  worthy  of  note  that  the  plan 
of  composition  elaborated  by  the  rhetoricians  was 
taken  over  by  poetry,  the  most  outstanding 
instance  of  this  being  the  Consolatio  ad  Liviam 
which  bears  the  name  of  Ovid,  and  which  is 
neither  a  fabrication  of  the  Renaissance  period 
nor,  as  was  long  believed,  a  product  emanating, 
under  Seneca's  influence,  from  the  later  school  of 
rhetoric,  but  a  poem  actually  presented  to  Livia 
upon  the  death  of  Drusus  in  9  B.  C.  The  rhetorical 
scheme  had  also  an  influence  upon  the  work  of 
Statius  (esp.  Silvce,  ii.  6  :  '  Consolatio  ad  Flavium 
Ursum '). 

Among  the  elements  of  a  consolatory  oration  a 
special  place  is  given  to  the  praise  of  the  deceased. 
According  to  the  detailed  rules  for  the  iytctb/uov, 
this  permitted  of  great  amplification.  The  dis- 
course likewise  described  the  way  in  which  the 
departed  would  be  received  by  his  ancestors  and 
the  heroes  of  antiquity.  The  bereaved  were  also 
shown  that  their  experience  was  common  to  man- 
kind, that  not  only  individuals  but  whole  king- 
doms had  perished,'  that  life  is  simply  a  trust  from 
the  Deity,  and  that  excessive  grief  can  profit 
neither  the  mourner  nor  the  dead.  Instances  were 
also  given  of  men  who,  like  Priam,  would  have 
been  happier  had  they  died  earlier. 

A  distinct  species  of  this  literature  appears  in 
the  '  consolations '  addressed  to  those  who  had 
been  banished,  as,  e.g.,  Seneca's  letter  to  his 
mother    Helvia,    and    Plutarch's   7repi   (puyrjs.     In 


these,  as  in  works  of  consolation  generally,  special 
use  is  made  of  the  ideas  expressed  in  the  popular 
diatribe  of  the  Cynics,  emphasis  being  laid  upon 
the  thought  that  the  home  of  the  wise  man  is  not 
a  particular  city  but  the  whole  world.  Here,  too, 
the  writers  drew  extensively  upon  the  examples  of 
celebrated  exiles,  such  as  Antenor,  Evander,  and 
Diomedes. 

Literature. — K.  Buresch,  Leipziger  Studien,  ix.  (1886)  1 ; 
A.  Gercke,  in  Tirocinium  Philologum  (Bonn,  1883)  ;  Skutscb, 
'  Consolatio  ad  Liviam,'  in  Pauly-Wissowa,  iv.  933 ;  A.  Giesecke, 
De  philosophorum  veterum  quce  ad  exiliwm  spectant  sententiis 
(Leipzig,  1891).  W.  KEOLL. 

CONSTANCY.— This  quality  is  most  clearly 
manifested  by  instinct  (g.v.) — the  innate  tendency 
to  respond  similarly  to  similar  influences.  Reason- 
ing introduces  variations.  As  a  large  part  of  the 
experience  of  savages  is  due  to  instinct,  their 
conduct  can  be  predicted  till  they  are  moved  by 
thought,  and  then  they  are  erratic ;  for  guiding 
principles  are  lacking,  with  the  result  that  way- 
wardness and  fickleness  are  conspicuous.  Attention 
is  irksome  to  them  (as  to  children),  and  tasks  that 
are  readily  begun  are  swiftly  abandoned.  The 
civilized  man  criticizes  and  often  resists. instincts, 
while  he  compels  the  various  choices  that  are  open 
to  him  to  move  in  directions  favourable  to  his 
designs.  Constancy  may  belong  to  a  single  thread 
of  a  life,  or  it  may  be  characteristic  of  the  entire 
collection  of  activities.  An  affection  of  love  or 
hate  may  abide  for  years  without  having  occasion 
to  display  itself  and  without  affecting  the  ordinary 
conduct ;  at  length  the  opportunity  comes,'  and  the 
fires  that  had  been  hidden  blaze  out.  In  other 
cases  there  are  purposes  which  day  by  day  mould 
all  the  circumstances  and  call  into  their  service 
every  power  of  body  and  mind. 

(1)  Social  influences  and  the  necessity  of  obtain- 
ing a  livelihood  account  for  many  sorts  of  constancy. 
Personal  tendencies  to  variation  are  subject  to 
limitations  imposed  by  the  opinions  and  plans  of 
others.  To  a  large  extent  we  must  all  comply  with 
demands  made  upon  us,  and  it  is  so  hazardous  to 
forsake  the  career  to  which  one  has  been  bred,  that 
the  trade  or  profession  chosen  secures  the  service 
of  the  entire  life.  Success  requires  patience  and 
perseverance.  Hand  and  mind  gain  facility  by 
continuous  endeavours,  the  spur  to  which  is  often 
the  necessity  of  providing  for  domestic  needs. 
Nevertheless,  in  the  most  mechanical  calling  there 
may  live  affections  and  aspirations  due  to  an  ever 
fresh  willingness ;  in  the  moss-covered  well  there 
is  spring  water.  The  soul  can  steadily  rise,  though 
outwardly  the  man  appears  to  be  treading  a  mill- 
round.  Fidelity  to  persons  and  to  causes  fre- 
quently makes  music  in  what  appear  to  be 
monotonous  histories. 

(2)  Tendencies  to  constancy  are  not  equally 
strong  in  all  natures.  There  are  weather-cock, 
and  there  are  stubborn,  souls ;  for  flexibility  and 
firmness  are  partly  to  be  ascribed  to  constitution. 
Undisciplined  no  one  can  be  satisfactory,  but  the 
discipline  required  differs  in  each  case.  Some 
vessels  drift  to  and  fro  and  are  in  danger  of 
foundering,  while  others  stick  fast  on  the  rocks 
and  look  as  if  they  would  be  battered  to  pieces  by 
the  waves ;  the  Christian  religion  would  guide  the 
one  class  and  release  the  other.  To  change  the 
constitution  is  a  miracle  of  which  Christianity 
believes  itself  to  have  the  secret.  Shallow  soil  can 
be  deepened  and  rock  can  be  dissolved ;  hence 
there  may  appear  corn-producing  fields,  and 
gardens  lovely  and  fragrant  with  flowers. 

(3)  When  is  constancy  admirable?  Only  when 
it  is  a  quality  of  aims  that  enrich  human  experience, 
when  it  belongs  to  a  purpose  to  convert  moral 
ideals  to  the  actual,  to  acquire  and  spread  truth, 
to  respond  gladly  to  whatsoever  is  pure  and  lovely, 


CONSTANTINB 


7ft 


to  love  men  and  to  labour  for  their  good,  to 
make  one's  life  valuable  to  humanity.  Such  pur- 
poses admit  minor  changes,  whereas  evil  motives, 
such  as  pride,  may  lie  behind  some  forms  of 
constancy.  In  order  to  maintain  a  vitally  im- 
portant consistency,  superficial  inconsistency  is 
often  imperative.  There  cannot  be  a  righteous 
adhesion  to  opinions  the  falsity  of  which  has  been 
demonstrated,  for  '  constancy  in  mistake  is 
constant  folly.'  Would  not  a  resolution  never 
to  vote  differently,  never  to  espouse  another 
faith,  imply  that  in  youth  infallibility  had  been 
acquired  ?  An  abiding  loyalty  to  truth  necessi- 
tates changes  in  beliefs,  habits,  and  allies.  But 
serious  men  cannot  alter  easily  or  without  pain. 
The  lower  consistency  is  abandoned  for  a  higher, 
and  the  abandonment  is  often  accompanied  by 
loss  of  what  is  dear,  without  any  apparent  com- 
pensating gain. 

(4)  The  conditions  of  constancy,— bailing  the 
predominance  of  one  idea  or  affection,  the  ideas 
and  affections  must  be  of  a  kind  to  work  together 
with  a  good  measure  of  harmony.  'A  double- 
minded  man  is  unstable  in  all  his  ways '  ( Ja  l8). 
Serious  and  deep  contradictions  are  ruinous.  A 
commanding  purpose  (or  purposes  that  harmonize 
with  one  another)  will  consolidate  and  organize  the 
impulses  and  desires,  so  that,  from  being  a  mob, 
they  are  converted  into  an  army.  Noble  aims  will 
gather  about  themselves  the  strength  and  warmth 
of  the  lower  impulses  :  and  after  a  time  the  habit 
of  beating  down  sensual  and  unsocial  impulses  will 
cause  the  soul  to  move  more  and  more  easily  on 
the  higher  than  on  the  lower  paths.  Courage  will 
be  required,  and  sacrifices  also.  Devotion  to  the 
interests  of  persons  can  survive  the  discovery  of 
unworthiness  in  those  whom  one  loves  ;  and  the 
cause  espoused  can  still  be  served,  though  it  fails 
to  gain  popular  approbation ;  '  many  waters  can- 
not quench  love '  (Ca  87).  Generally  there  is  the 
sympathy  of  some  companions  whose  support  helps 
to  keep  the  fires  of  zeal  burning.  Especially  is 
constancy  promoted  if  the  general  plan  of  life  or 
some  particular  design  or  way  is  believed  to  have 
the  favour  of  heaven ;  for  then  there  is  the 
assurance  of  supernatural  assistance,  and  all  the 
rills  and  streams  of  one's  purposes  seem  to  be 
drawn  into  the  river  of  God's  will.  The  human 
will  is  never  so  firm  as  when  it  thinks  itself  to  be 
merged  in  God's,  and  great  confidence  possesses 
the  aspirant  to  sanctity  who  reads,  '  This  is  the 
will  of  God,  even  your  sanctification '  ( 1  Th  4s). 

(5)  The  effects  of  constancy. — In  Oliver  Crom- 
well's Bible  was  the  inscription,  '  0.  C.  1644,  Qui 
eessat  esse  melior  cessat  esse  bonus.'  Mere  visits 
to  realms  of  thought,  or  occasional  excursions  into 
any  sphere  of  activity,  are  insufficient  to  make 
deep  marks  on  character,  or  to  give  skill  in  any 
handicraft  or  profession.  A  few  warm  days  in 
winter  can  produce  no  harvest.  Who  can  be  an 
accomplished  musician,  scientist,  linguist,  without 
persistent  toil  ?  Great  are  the  differences  between 
the  results  of  ko.toi.k4ui  and  irapoiKioi.  A  favourite 
word  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  is  yAvw :  the  branch 
that  '  abides'  in  the  vine  bears  much  fruit  (Jn  155). 
No  wonder  that  Bunyan  had  an  aversion  to  the 
lives  of  Mr.  Pliable  and  Mr.  Temporary,  seeing 
that  such  men  not  only  fail  to  reach  the  Celestial 
City,  but  even  discourage  other  pilgrims.  By 
constancy  power  is  accumulated  and  capitalized, 
skill  is  acquired,  and  the  soul  makes  for  itself  a 
tradition  which  it  is  ashamed  not  to  honour. 
While  the  man  becomes  a  law  to  himself,  observers 
can  rely  upon  him  and  infer  his  future  from  his 
past  conduct,  for  there  is  logical  connexion  between 
the  past  and  the  present.  Constancy  makes  the 
good  better  and  the  bad  worse.  See  also  Perse- 
verance. 


Literature. — J.  Sully,  Outlines  of  Psychology,  new  ed., 
London,  1894,  ch.  on  '  Habit ' ;  W.  James,  Psychology,  London, 
1892,  vol.  ii.  ch.  iv. ;  T.  Carlyle,  Past  and  Present,  bk.  ii.  ch. 
xvii.  '  Beginnings,'  and  bk.  iv.  ch.  iv.  '  Permanence  ' ;  Carveth 
Read,  Natural  and  Social  Ethics,  London,  1910. 

W.  J.  Henderson. 

CONST ANTINE.— I.  Life.— Flavius  Valerius 
Aurelius  Constantinus  was  born  on  27th  Feb.  of 
a  year  uncertain,  generally  given  as  274,  but 
probably  a  little  later.1  The  place  was  Naissus 
(Niseh)  in  Dardania  (Servia)  (Anon.  Valesii,  2  ; 
Constant.  Porphyrogenitus,  de  Thematibus,  ii.  9 
[in  Migne,  PG  cxiii.]).  The  fiction  of  his  birth  at 
York,  current  in  all  mediseval  English  historians 
(the  silence  of  Bede,  HE  i.  8,  should  be  noted), 
arose  from  a  misunderstanding  of  the  phrase 
'illic  oriendo'  (Panegyr.  vi.  4),  which  refers  to  his 
accession,  not  his  birth.  Constantine's  father,  M. 
Flavius  Valerius  Constantius  (the  surname  Chlorus 
is  not  found  until  late  Greek  writers),  was  a  noble 
Dardanian  soldier,  whose  mother  was  the  niece  of 
the  emperor  Claudius.  His  mother,  Flavia  Helena 
(b.  about  250  ;  Euseb.  Vita  Constantini,i  iii.  46), 
was  the  daughter  or  servant  (Ambrose,  de  Obitu 
Theodosii,  42)  of  an  innkeeper  of  Drepanum  in 
Bithynia,  a  city  rebuilt  by  Constantine  in  327  in 
her  honour  and  re-named  Helenopolis.  Her  mar- 
riage to  Constantius  was  probably  irregular  (Anon. 
Vales.  1  ;  Zosimus,  Res  Gestae,  ii.  8  j  these  pas- 
sages should  not  be  pressed  as  more  than  morgan- 
atic [see  Digest,  xxv.  7])  until  after  the  birth  of 
her  son  (cf.  Constantine's  legislation,  infra,  V.  i. 
d  (2)).  When  Constantine  was  about  14,  his  father 
was  promoted  by  Diocletian  to  the  rank  of  '  Caesar ' 
(1st  March  293),  with  the  government  of  Gaul 
and  Britain,  on  condition  that  he  divorced  Helena 
and  married  Theodora,  daughter  of  the  emperor 
Maximian.  Constantine  did  not  accompany  his 
father,  but  was  left  at  Diocletian's  court  at 
Nicomedia,  possibly  as  a  hostage,  until  the  grow- 
ing jealousy  of  Galerius,  after  the  abdication  of 
Diocletian  and  Maximian  (1st  May  305),  compelled 
him  to  a  memorable  ride  across  Europe  to  his 
father's  camp  at  Boulogne  (Lactant.  de  Mortibus 
Persecute  24  ;  Anon.  Vales.  3,  8),  where  he  arrived 
in  time  to  share  his  father's  victories  over  the  Picts 
(Eumenius,  Panegyr.  vii.  7). 

The  death  of  Constantius  at  York  (25th  July 
306)  was  followed  by  the  proclamation  by  the 
army  of  Constantine  as  '  Caesar '  (Zos.  ii.  9  ; 
'Augustus'  in  Euseb.  HE  viii.  13,  VC  i.  22, 
though  this  higher  honour  was  not  ratified  by 
Galerius  until  the  following  year  [Panegyr.  vi.  5  ; 
coins  in  Eckhel,  Doct.  Num.  Vet.  viii.  72  ;  Lact. 
MP  25]).  His  seat  of  government  was  Treves, 
which  he  embellished  with  many  buildings.  In 
307  he  strengthened  his  position  by  his  marriage 
at  Aries  to  Fausta,  the  daughter  of  Maximian. 
The  Empire  was  thus  divided  between  six  rulers  : 
in  the  East,  Galerius,  Licinian  (Valerius  Licinianus 
Licinius),  and  Maximin  Daza  ;  in  the  West,  Con- 
stantine (Gaul  and  Britain),  Maximian,  who  had  re- 
assumed  the  purple,  and  his  son  Maxentius.  But 
Maximian,  after  a  crafty  intrigue  against  Constant- 
ine, was  captured  and  forced  to  strangle  himself  in 
Feb.  310  (Lact.  MP  29,  30  ;  Eumen.  Panegyr.  vii. 
20),  while  the  death  of  Galerius  at  Sardica  (Anon. 
Vales.  3,  8)  in  May  311  led  to  the  division  of 
the  Empire  between  Constantine,  Licinian,  and 
Maximin  Daza.  The  three  refused  to  recognize 
Maxentius,  whose  tyranny  in  his  province  of 
Italy,  Africa,  and  Spain,  gave  Constantine  an  ex- 
cuse for  the  invasion  of  Italy  (Euseb.  HE  ix.  9.  2, 
VC  i.  26  ;  Nazarius,  Panegyr.  x.  19,  31  ;  Zos. 
ii.    14  says  Maxentius  was   the  aggressor).     He 

1  Seeck,  Gesck.  d.  Untergangs  J.  antik.  Welt,  i.  435  n.,  gives 
280  as  the  date,  but  his  reference,  CIL  i.2  p.  302,  seems  in- 
accurate. 

2  Hereafter  cited  as  VC.  s  Hereafter  cited  aa  MP. 


76 


CONSTANTINE 


crossed  the  Alps  (Sept.  312)  either  by  Mi.  Cenis  or 
by  Mt.  Genevre  (see  the  contemporary  [A.D.  333] 
Itin.  Anon.  Burdigalense,  ed.  Geyer  in  CSEL  xxxix. 
5),  captured  Susa  and  Verona  (Oct.),  and  within 
58  days  of  declaring  war  defeated  the  sluggish 
Maxentius  at  Saxa  Rubra,  about  9  miles  N.W.  of 
Rome.  The  drowning  of  Maxentius  in  attempting 
to  escape  over  the  Milvian  Bridge  (Ponte  Molle) 
completed  his  triumph,  28th  Oct.  312  (Anon.  Vales. 
4,  12  ;  Lact.  MP  44  ;  Euseb.  HE  ix.  9  ;  there  is  a 
full  account  in  Seeck,  op.  cit.  i.  109-137). 

Constantine's  victory  was  followed,  early  in  313, 
by  a  conference  at  Milan  with  Licinian,  and  by 
the  marriage  of  Licinian  to  his  sister  Constantia. 
The  defeat  of  Daza  by  Licinian  near  Adrianople 
(30th  Apr.  313)  and  his  death  in  August  at  Tarsus 
ieft  Constantine  and  Licinian  in  sole  possession 
— the  ex-emperor  Diocletian  dying  probably  that 
same  summer  (Seeck,  op.  cit.  i.  459  f.,  following  as 
his  source  Idatius,  Consulares  Fasti,  dates  3rd  Dec. 
316)  at  Salona.  But  the  concord  of  the  two  was 
hollow.  The  first  civil  war  between  them  was 
ended  by  the  triumphs  of  Constantine  at  Cibalis 
(Vinkovci  in  Hungary),  8th  Oct.  314,  and  Mardia 
in  Thrace  (Anon.  Vales.  5 ;  Zos.  ii.  18-20),  after 
which  a  truce  was  patched  up,  Constantine  leav- 
ing Licinian  in  possession  of  Thrace,  Asia  Minor, 
Syria,  and  Egypt.  Constantine  now  devoted  him- 
self to  internal  reforms,  from  which  he  was  called 
away  by  the  war  with  the  Goths  and  Sarmatians 
in  Illyricum  and  Dacia  (322)  and  the  final  struggle 
with  Licinian.  The  victories,  in  spite  of  Licinian's 
superior  forces,  of  Adrianople  (3rd  July  323)  and 
Chrysopolis  (Scutari,  8th  Sept.  323)  were  followed 
by  the  humiliation  and  enforced  death  of  Licinian 
in  324  (Soc.  HE  i.  4 ;  Euseb.  VC  ii.  18  ;  Zos.  ii. 
28  ;  Eutrop.  Brev.  x.  6)  and  the  re-union  of  the 
Empire  under  one  head. 

The  foundation  by  Constantine  of  a  new  capital 
(4th  Nov.  326  [Anon,  de  Antiq.  Constant,  i.  3,  in 
A.  Banduri,  Imperium  Orientate,  Paris,  1711]; 
see  Burckhardt,  Die  Zeit,  etc.  415  ;  but  de  Broglie, 
Viglise,  etc.  i.  440  f.,  dates  in  328)  at  Byzantium  is 
one  of  the  great  events  of  history.  In  reality  it 
continued  Diocletian's  policy  of  ruling  from  Nico- 
media.  It  was  dedicated  on  11th  May  330  (Gibbon, 
ed.  Bury,  ii.  157  n. ),  under  the  title  of  New  Rome. 
The  removal  of  the  seat  of  government  was  com- 
pleted by  an  entire  re-organization  of  the  Empire, 
the  new  absolute  monarchy  of  Diocletian  which 
had  taken  the  place  of  the  old  principate  being 
consolidated  and  systematized  (see  Seeck,  op. 
cit.  ii.).  Constantine's  last  years,  though  years 
of  peace,  were  unfortunate.  His  character  de- 
generated (Eutrop.  Brev.  x.  7),  his  expensive 
building  operations  drained  the  Empire  of  its  re- 
sources (Zos.  ii.  32,  35,  38  ;  Schiller,  Rom.  Kaiser- 
zeit,  ii.  230),  his  habits  became  effeminate,  and 
his  jealousy  of  a  rival  made  his  family  life  miser- 
able. His  eldest  son  Crispus,  the  offspring  of  an 
early  irregular  marriage  with  Minervina,  had 
shown  great  ability  in  forcing  the  straits  of  Helles- 
pont against  the  superior  fleet  of  Licinian  (323), 
yet  he  was  executed  (July  326)  at  his  father's  com- 
mand (Amm.  Marcell.  xiv.  11),  though  the  reason 
for  this  act  is  obscure.  This  was  followed,  possibly 
a  year  or  two  later,  by  the  execution  of  his  wife 
Fausta  on  the  charge  of  adultery.1  In  331  Con- 
stantine was  forced  to  attack  the  Sarmatians,  who 
had  encamped  near  the  Danube.  His  victory — 
for  his  supposed  defeat  is  a  curious  error  of  Gibbon 
(ii.  217)— was  the  last  of  his  successes.  He  died 
near  Nicomedia  on  Whitsunday,  22nd  May  337, 
though  he  nominally  reigned  for  four  months 
(until  9th  Sept.)  after  his  death. 

1  For  detailed  investigation  of  this  domestic  tragedy  see 
Odrres  and  Seeck,  '  Die  Verwandtenmorde  Constantin's  des 
Grossen.'in  ZWT  xxx.  [1887],  343  ff.,  xxxiii.  [1890]  63  ft. 


In  spite  of  the  claims  of  Rome,  he  was  buried 
at  Constantinople  in  the  great  church  of  the 
Trinity  (later  called  '  Holy  Apostles'),  which 
he  had  completed  for  the  purpose  the  previous 
Easter.  At  Rome  the  heathen  senate  enrolled  him 
among  the  gods  (V.  Schultze,  Untergang  d.  gr.- 
rom.  Heidentums,  1887-92,  i.  66),  though  the  medal 
struck  to  commemorate  this  was  made  of  a  Chris- 
tian type  (King,  Christian  Numismatics,  1873,  p. 
53).  In  1204,  his  tomb  was  destroyed  by  the  Latin 
crusaders  on  their  capture  of  Constantinople. 

Constantine's  life,  like  that  of  Charles  the  Great,  has  become 
legendary,  and  was  one  of  the  favourite  romances  of  the 
mediaeval  Church.  On  these  see  the  critical  studies  of  E. 
Heydenreich,  esp.  '  Constantin  der  Grosse  in  den  Sagen  des 
Mittelalters '  in  Ztschr.  f.  Geschichtswissenschaft,  ix.  [1893] 
9.  Iff. 

II.  Extent  of  the  Church  at  the  time  of  Con- 
stantine's 'conversion.' — At  the  outset  of  an  in- 
quiry into  the  great  change  brought  about  by 
Constantine,  it  is  of  importance  to  understand 
the  extent  and  influence  of  the  Church  and  its 
attraction  for  any  statesman. 

(a)  Numbers. — Materials  for  forming  an  esti- 
mate of  the  strength  of  Christianity  under  Dio- 
cletian will  be  found  in  Harnack's  elaborate 
survey  (Expansion  of  Christianity,  Eng.  tr.  ii. 
[1904]  240-456).  From  a  careful  study  it  would  ap- 
pear that  in  the  East  the  Christians,  except  in 
a  few  towns,  were  still  only  a  small  minority, 
at  the  most— one-ninth  or  so  of  the  whole  (H. 
Richter,  Westrom.  Reich  [1865],  p.  85) — and  in  the 
West  they  would  be  considerably  less.  Unfortu- 
nately we  do  not  know  the  population  of  the  Em- 
pire. The  figure  of  Gibbon  (i.  42),  120  millions,  is 
absurdly  large  ;  J.  Beloch  (Bevolkerung  d.  gr.-rom. 
Welt,  1886)  gives  it  under  Augustus  at  54  mil- 
lions, but  this  seems  too  small.  If  we  take  it  at 
60  millions  under  Nero,  the  great  famines,  etc.,  in 
the  middle  of  the  3rd  cent,  would  have  reduced  it 
to  slightly  less  under  Constantine.  At  the  out- 
side, therefore,  the  Christians  would  scarcely 
number  five  millions  (Gibbon's  proportion,  -^ 
[ii.  65],  thus  comes  to  the  same  result),  or  less 
than  the  Jews,  who  numbered  over  six  millions, 
of  whom  one  million  were  in  Egypt.  In  Rome 
in  250  we  calculate  from  Eusebius,  HE  vi.  43. 
11,  that  the  Christians  numbered  between  40,000 
and  50,000  in  a  city  of  nearly  a  million,  i.e.  J$, 
though  this  proportion  would  be  higher  in  the 
time  of  Constantine.  In  the  country  districts 
the  Christians  were  far  less  numerous  than  in  the 
towns. 

(6)  Influence. — But  what  the  Christians  lacked 
in  numbers  they  more  than  made  up  by  their 
organization,  unity,  wealth,  and  driving  power. 
In  these  matters  only  the  Jews  could  equal  them, 
but  Judaism  was  hindered  by  its  Law  from  ever 
becoming  an  international  religion.  The  Chris- 
tians, shut  off  from  the  pleasures  of  the  world, 
had  grown  immensely  rich,  while  their  morality, 
sobriety,  and  enthusiasm  would  attract  any  states- 
man who  looked  deeper  than  popular  rumour. 
For  any  statesman  anxious  to  infuse  new  life  into 
a  dying  world  Christianity  had  no  rival  except, 
possibly,  Mithraism,  for  Neo-Platonism,  etc.,  had 
no  value  for  the  vulgar  ;  nor  must  we  overlook  the 
value  to  the  statesman  of  the  Christian  doctrine 
of  immortality  (Burckhardt,  op.  cit.  p.  140). 

III.  Personal  relation  to  Christianity. — The 
personal  relation  of  Constantine  to  Christianity 
is  a  subject  of  much  importance,  as  upon  its 
decision  many  questions,  both  theological  and 
ecclesiastical,  depend.  As  to  the  date  of  his 
'  conversion '  the  earliest  authorities  are  contra- 
dictory. Lactant.  Instit.  Div.  vii.  27,  a  work 
finished  before  311,  would  be  conclusive,  but  the 
passage  has  been  shown  by  its  editor,  Brandt 
(CSEL  xix.  668),  to  be  an  interpolation.     Equally 


CONSTANTINE 


77 


conclusive  would  be  sentences  in  the  letter  of 
Constantine  to  the  bishops  at  Aries  in  314  or  316 
(Optatus  Milev.  Mon.  Vet.  [CSEL  xxvi.  208]),  but 
these  probably  reflect  merely  the  opinions  of 
Hosius  (see  infra,  IV.  (b)).  Zos.  ii.  29  (cf.  Soz. 
HE  i.  3)  dates  the  conversion  after  the  execution 
of  Crispus,  to  the  remorse  for  which  he  attributes 
it.  For  our  part  we  first  detect  a  warmer  note  as 
to  Christianity  about  314,  in  Constantine's  letter 
to  Chrestus  (Euseb.  HE  x.  5).  As  regards  his 
whole  relation  to  Christianity,  the  data  are  in- 
volved and  have  been  variously  interpreted,  while 
the  difficulty  has  been  Increased  by  the  delay  of 
his  baptism  until  his  death.  The  whole  problem 
has  been  rendered  additionally  obscure  by  the 
complex  imperfect  character  of  Constantine  him- 
self— calculating,  shrewd,  superstitious,  often 
cruel,  cynical — whose  one  great  instance  of  con- 
summate foresight  alone  entitles  him  to  be  called 
'  Great.'  Brieger  {Ztschr.  f.  Kirchengesch.  iv. 
[1881]  163  ff.)  and  Gibbon  make  it  altogether  a 
question  of  politics  ;  but,  as  Bury  has  pointed  out 
(Gibbon,  ii.  566),  this  is  to  ascribe  to  Constantine 
a  freedom  from  superstition  which,  though  natural 
in  an  English  deist  of  the  18th  cent.,  was  alto- 
gether unknown  in  the  4th.  Schiller  (op.  cit.  ii. 
213)  believes  that  his  ideal  was  a  syncretistic 
fusion  of  the  best  elements  of  Christianity  and 
paganism.  But  Constantine's  powers  of  observa- 
tion must  have  shown  him  the  impossibility  of 
any  such  syncretism  ;  the  refusal  of  precisely  such 
syncretism  lay  at  the  root  of  the  whole  persecu- 
tion of  Diocletian.  As  a  summary  of  the  follow- 
ing survey  we  incline  to  think  that  Constantine  at 
first  leaned  to  toleration  for  political  reasons,  as 
a  system  of  balance  or  equal  opportunity  for 
heathenism  and  Christianity ;  and  that  the  suc- 
cess of  his  arms  and  the  identification  of  his  van- 
quished foes  with  heathenism  (cf.  Constantine's 
Oratio  ad  Sanct.  Coetum,  23-26,  of  which  this  is 
the  concluding  thought)  led  to  a  policy  of  self- 
interest  passing  into  an  intellectual,  possibly  even 
a  moral,  conviction ;  with  the  consequent  effort, 
but  without  unstatesmanlike  haste,  to  supplant 
heathenism  by  Christianity,  and  in  certain  direc- 
tions (see  infra,  V.  i.)  to  alter  the  laws  accord- 
ingly. The  relapse  of  his  last  years  was  rather 
moral  degeneration  than  any  reaction  (Burck- 
hardt)  towards  paganism,  while  at  its  best  his 
religion  was  probably  a  '  strange  jumble '  (Niebuhr, 
Bom.  Hist.,  Eng.  tr.  [1828  ff.]  v.  449)  of  creed  and 
superstition. 

(a)  In  early  life. — That  Constantine's  mother 
Helena  was  a  Christian  before  her  divorce  has 
been  asserted  (Theodoret,  HE  i.  17)  ;  but  Eusebius 
(VC  iii.  47)  ascribes  her  conversion  to  her  son. 
While  there  is  no  reason  to  identify  his  father 
Constantius'  leaning  towards  Monotheism  (Euseb. 
VC  i.  17,  ii.  49)  with  a  belief  in  Christianity,  it 
is  of  importance  to  note  his  tolerant  disposition. 
During  the  great  persecution  of  Diocletian  it  was 
only  in  Constantius'  provinces  of  Gaul  and  Britain 
that  there  was  any  safety  for  Christians  (Optat. 
Milev.  i.  22),1  though  even  Constantius  thougnt  it 
well  to  conform  to  the  edict  of  Diocletian  to 
the  extent  of  destroying  the  churches  (Lact.  MP 
15,  as  against  Euseb.  HE  viii.  13.  13).  Here  and 
there  also  there  were  one  or  two  martyrs — not 
necessarily,  of  course,  by  Constantius'  orders.2  To 
the  tolerant  practice  and  disposition  of  his  father 
we  must  add  the  influence  of  Nicomedia,  at  the 
palace  of  which  Constantine  was  brought  up.    The 

1  Spain,  where  persecutions  abounded,  was  not,  as  is  often 
Btated,  in  his  government,  but  was  under  the  charge  of  Datian, 
an  officer  of  Maximian. 

2  For  the  martyrs  in  Britain—  St.  Alban  (very  doubtful), 
Aaron,  and  Julius  (more  doubtful  still) — see  Bede,  HE,  ed. 
Plummer,  ii.  17-20  ;  Haddan-Stubbs,  Councils,  Oxford,  1869-78, 
i.  6  ;  Harnack,  Expansion,  ii.  410,  n.  4. 


power  of  the  Christians,  whose  great  basilica 
towered  up  against  the  palace,  the  fact  that,  in 
the  court  itself,  Prisca  the  wife  and  Valeria  the 
daughter  of  Diocletian,  the  influential  eunuchs 
Dorotheus  and  Gorgonius,  and  Lucian  the  cham- 
berlain, were  Christians  (Lact.  MP  15),  the  re- 
sistance of  the  Christians  to  Diocletian's  edicts, 
and  the  chaos  produced  by  attempts  to  carry 
out  the  edicts — all  must  have  impressed  him  with 
the  folly  and  impossibility  of  a  policy  of  persecu- 
tion (cf.  Constantine's  Orat.  ad  Sanct.  Coet.  25). 
Yet,  while  in  Gaul,  his  personal  cult  appears 
to  have  been  that  of  Apollo  or  the  sun-god 
(Eumen.  Panegyr.  vii.  21),  and  even  late  in  his 
reign  he  was  still  under  its  influence,  so  that, 
e.g.,  his  statue  at  Constantinople  was  a  muti- 
lated sun-god  from  Athens  (cf.  infra,  V.  ii.  (c) 
'  Sunday '). 

(6)  In  his  struggle  with  Maxentius. — Rumours 
of  the  persecution  in  the  East  under  Galerius  and 
Maximm  Daza  would  confirm  Constantine  in  his 
conception  of  its  folly  and  in  his  policy  of  tolera- 
tion (Lact.  MP  24.  9).  He  was  therefore  a  willing 
party  in  signing,  with  Licinian,  Galerius'  edict  of 
toleration  (30th  Apr.  311).  In  his  struggle  with 
Maxentius,  the  plea  of  Constantine's  invasion  was 
the  deliverance  of  Kome  from  his  tyranny  and 
vices  (Euseb.  HE  ix.  9.  2,  VC  i.  33  ;  Panegyr. 
ix.  4  ;  Julian,  Cms.,  ed.  flertlein,  pp.  405,  422), 
and  the  Christians  as  such  were  tolerably  treated 
(Optat.  Milev.  i.  18).  As  regards  the  famous  vision 
at  the  Milvian  Bridge  opinion  will  always  be 
divided.  In  our  earliest  authority  (Lact.  MP  44, 
written  in  314,  probably  by  the  tutor  of  Crispus), 
Constantine  was  warned  in  a  dream  on  the  night 
before  the  battle  to  draw  the  monogram  of  Christ 
(,?!c)  uPon  *ne  shields  of  his  soldiers. 

For  the  form  of  the  monogram  and  labarum,  see  Smith- 
Cheetham,  DCA  i.  494.  We  may  note  that  the  labarum 
(derivation  unknown),  or  standard  with  this  monogram,  ap- 
pears on  Grseco-Bactrian  coins  of  the  2nd  and  1st  cent.  B.C., 
and  also  on  Tarantine  coins  of  the  3rd  cent.  B.C.  (cf.  Soc.  HE 
v.  17,  and  Soz.  HE  vii.  15,  for  symbols  of  the  cross  as  a  sign  of 
immortality  on  temples  of  Isis  ;  see  also  Schiller,  op.  cit.  ii. 
205  n. ;  Madden,  Num.  Chron.,  1877,  p.  17  ff.).  According  to  E. 
Rapp  {Das  Labarum  und  d.  Sonnencultus,  Bonn,  1865),  there 
is  no  well-attested  use  of  the  labarum  as  a  Christian  symbol 
before  323  (see  below,  p.  78b,  top). 

The  familiar  story  is  not  found  in  Euseb.  HE 
ix.  9,  which  is  silent  on  the  subject,  but  occurs  in 
the  later  VC  i.  28  (cf.  also  ib.  ii.  55  ;  Soz.  HE  i.  4), 
where  Eusebius  states  that  Constantine  told  it  him 
'long  afterwards  and  confirmed  it  with  an  oath,' 
but  gives  no  date.  The  value  of  this  personal  state- 
ment is  discounted  by  the  silence  of  Constantine 
in  his  Orat.  ad  Sanct.  Coet.,  where  surely  of  all 
places  he  would  have  dilated  upon  it.  Oaths 
with  Constantine  were  also  very  common.  Allow- 
ing for  exaggerations  in  the  intervening  years,  we 
may  take  it  that  something  external  happened, 
possibly  a  solar  halo,  which  not  unfrequently  as- 
sumes the  form  of  a  cross,1  and  that  this  was 
interpreted  by  Constantine  as  an  augury  of  Divine 
intervention.  There  is  proof  of  the  dream  in 
the  inscription  by  the  Senate  on  the  arch  of  Con- 
stantine, dedicated  in  315.  The  '  instinctu  divini- 
tatis'  (CIL  vi.  1139)  there  alleged  as  the  cause 
of  victory  (cf.  Constantine,  Orat.  ad  Sanct.  Coet. 
26)  has  been  shown  to  be  original  and  no  later 
addition  (cf.  Lanciani,  Pagan  and  Christian  Rome, 
1892,  p.  20  f.  ;  Garrucci,  in  King,  op.  cit.  p.  20). 
Additional  proof  is  found  also  in  the  pagan 
Panegyr.  ix.  (written  in  313)  ch.  4  '  te  aivina 
prsecepta,'  ch.  11  '  tu  divino  monitus  instinctu.' 
Whether    this    '  cseleste  signum,'  as  Lactantius, 

1  This  explanation  was  first  given  by  Fabriciua  (Bib.  Grcec. 
vi.  8-29.  Stanley  /Eastern  Church,  p.  181)  refers  to  the  Aurora 
Borealis  of  1848  and  its  curious  popular  interpretations ;  cf. 
Nazarius,  Panegyr.  (written  in  321),  ch.  14,  of  the  hosts  in  th« 
sky  in  312-313  that  were  '  the  talk  of  all  GauL' 


78 


CONSTANTINE 


ioc.  cit.,  calls  it,  was  a  miracle1  brings  in  con- 
siderations beyond  our  scope.2 

We  are  told  (Euseb.  HE  ix.  9.  10,  11,  VC\.  40) 
that,  after  the  victory  of  the  Milvian  Bridge, 
Constantine  erected  at  Rome  a  statue  of  himself, 
with  the  spear  he  usually  carried  in  his  right 
hand  shaped  like  a  cross.  As  evidence  the  VC  is 
almost  valueless,  and  Brieger  thought  that  the 
passage  in  HE  was  an  interpolation.  But  Eusebius 
mentioned  this  statue  in  a  speech  at  Tyre  in  314 
[HE  x.  4.  16),  and  this  seems  to  decide  its  existence 
and  the  general  belief  in  the  East  in  314  as  to 
Constantine's  position,  though  the  popular  Christian 
rumour  might  not  be  a  correct  interpretation  of 
the  artist's  work.3  The  spear-cross  was  probably 
designedly  ambiguous.  A  more  important  evidence 
of  Constantine's  favour  for  the  Christians  is  his 
handing  over  to  the  Roman  bishop  (before  Oct. 
313 ;  see  infra,  p.  79b)  of  the  '  domus  Faustse,'  a 
palace  possibly  of  his  wife,  formerly  belonging  to 
the  Lateran  family  (Gregorovius,  Borne  in  Middle 
Ages  [Eng.  tr.  1894  ff.],  i.  88),  which  became  the 
residence  of  the  Bishops  of  Rome  (Lib.  Pontif. ,  ed. 
Duchesne,  i.  191).  The  erection  of  the  churches 
commonly  attributed  to  him  (Lateran,  St.  Peter's) 
is  probably  a  little  later,  if  we  may  judge  from  the 
fact  that  they  were  built  with  pagan  spoils  (Greg. 
op.  cit.  i.  92),  though  the  small  St.  Paul's  {fuorile 
muri),  the  foundation  of  which  was  wrongly 
attributed  to  Constantine,  would  come  under  the 
head  of  the  oratories  restored  after  the  edict  of 
Milan  (Duchesne,  op.  cit.  i.  178,  195 ;  Lanciani, 
op.  cit.  p.  150fF.  ;  Greg.  op.  cit.  i.  100).  On  the 
whole  the  evidence  of  Constantine's  churches  in 
Rome  (the  list  of  which  in  the  Lib.  Pontif.  is  very 
exaggerated)  is  inconclusive  as  to  the  date  of  his 
conversion. 

(c)  Between  312  and  323. — After  the  victory  of 
the  Milvian  Bridge,  Constantine  and  Licinian 
promulgated  at  Milan,  in  the  spring  of  313,  a 
second  edict  of  toleration — '  free  liberty  to  choose 
that  form  of  worship  which  they  consider  most 
suitable' — and  restoration  of  forfeited  churches 
and  property. 

For  this  edict  see  Euseb.  HE  x.  5,  and  for  its  original 
Latin  form,  Lact.  MP  48.  Note  the  non-committal  religious 
references — 'Quidquid  est  divinitatis  in  sede  caelesti.'  This 
edict  was  second  to  that  of  Galerius,  to  which  the  'hard 
conditions'  (aipe'treis)  of  5  4  refers.  Mason  (Persecution  of 
Diocletian,  1876,  p.  327  ff.)  has  exploded  the  older  idea  (still 
held  in  DCB  i.  633)  that  Constantine  issued  a  second  edict  of 
toleration  at  Milan,  before  the  Milvian  Bridge,  and  that  this 
was  the  third. 

But,  until  323,  Constantine  kept  a  balance 
between  Christianity  and  heathenism,  though 
inclining  more  and  more  to  the  former  (see  infra, 
IV.  (c)).  About  317,  he  selected  the  Christian 
Lactantius  to  be  the  tutor  of  his  son  Crispus  (b. 
306[?] ;  Jerome,  de  Vir.  III.  80).  From  315  onwards, 
pagan  emblems  (Mars,  'Genius  Pop.  Rom.,'  Sol) 
disappeared  from  his  coins,  and  indifferent  legends 
('  Beata  tranquillitas,'  etc.)  took  their  place.  This 
period  of  neutrality  was  ended  by  his  conflict  with 
Licinian.  In  319,  Licinian  had  begun  to  oppress 
the  Christians,  especially  in  his  army  (Workman, 
Persecution  in  Early  Church,  1906,  p.  187  n.), 
though  without  much  bloodshed  (Euseb.  HE  x.  8  ; 
VC  i.  49-56,  ii.  1,  2 ;  Sozomen,  HE  i.  7  ;  for  a  clear 
examination  see  F.  Gorres,  Die  Licin.  Christen- 
verfolgung,  Leipzig,  1875,  esp.  p.  29  ff.  To  this 
persecution  belong  the  Forty  Martyrs  of  Sebaste 
[see  O.    v.   Gebhafdt,   Acta  Mart.  Selecta,   1902, 

'  J.  H.  Newman  (Essays  on  Eccles.  Miracles,  1843,  p.  103  ff.) 
and  de  Broglie  (op.  cit.  i.  216  ff.)  give  the  best  defence  of  this 
view. 

2  It  may  be  of  interest  to  note  that  the  signs  would  probably 
be  read  in  Latin — '  in  hoc  signo  vinces ' — and  not  Greek — tovtw 
vUa. — as  Constantine  spoke  Latin.  The  annalists  are  divided 
on  the  subject. 

8  Cf.  Eusebius'  mistake  (HE  vii.  18)  of  a  statue  of  Jisculapius 
at  Paneas  for  one  of  Jeuu6. 


pp.  166-181]).  This  foolish  move  gave  Constantine 
the  opportunity  of  appearing  as  the  advocate  of 
the  Christians  (323),  who  were  really  far  more 
numerous  in  Licinian's  domains  than  in  the  West. 
The  struggle  thus  became  a  crusade,  and  the 
labarum  was  stamped  on  most  coins  (Euseb.  HE 
x.  9,  VCii.  6-12 ;  Schiller,  op.  cit.  ii.  211 ;  Madden, 
Num.  Chron.,  1877,  p.  53 ff.). 

(d)  From  323  to  his  death. — After  his  conflict 
with  Licinian,  Constantine,  according  to  Eusebius, 
put  his  hand  seriously  to  the  work,  forbidding 
pagan  sacrifices  in  general  (see  infra,  p.  81"),  and 
building  churches  {VC  ii.  44-46).  But,  on  the 
whole,  his  attitude  to  paganism  was  cautious, 
though  his  aversion  to  the  old  faith  would  be 
increased  by  his  unfortunate  reception  in  heathen 
Rome  in  326,  which  led  to  his  abandoning  it  for 
Constantinople.  After  this  he  seems  to  have 
increased  the  privileges  of  the  clergy  (Soz.  HE 
i.  8,  9),  and  he  rewarded  towns  that  turned  temples 
into  churches  (Soc.  HE  i.  18 ;  Soz.  HE  ii.  5),  in 
several  cases  because  of  immoral  rites  (cf.  Euseb. 
Laud.  Constant.  8).  Many  temples  were  also 
despoiled  for  the  founding  of  Constantinople,  and 
by  his  expressed  wish  the  new  city  was  free  from 
organized  heathenism  (Euseb.  VC  iii.  48).  At  the 
same  time  the  existing  temples  of  Byzantium — 
Cybele,  Castor  and  Pollux,  etc. — were  not  de- 
stroyed, and  the  city  itself  was  dedicated  to  Tyche 
(Fortuna),  though  without  temple  services  (Zos.  ii. 
21 ;  Schultze,  op.  cit.  ii.  281 ;  for  this  Tyche,  Bury 
refers  to  a  study  of  J.  Strzygowski,  '  Die  Tyche  v. 
Konstant.'  in  Analecta  Graeciensia,  Graz,  1893). 
By  this  time  Constantine's  'conversion,'  hitherto 
chiefly  political,  had  become  an  intellectual  belief 
in  Christianity  as  an  historical  religion  capable  of 
proof  (see  Constantine's  remarkable  sermon,  Oral, 
ad  Sanct.  Coet.,  esp.  chs.  4,  11,  18,  19,  where  the 
Sibyl  and  Virgil's  4th  Eclogue  are  appealed  to). 
The  return  of  his  aged  mother  Helena  from  her 
pilgrimage  to  Palestine  (undertaken  in  326,  possibly 
because  of  her  son's  execution  of  Crispus),  with 
two  nails  from  the  Cross,  one  of  which  he  turned 
into  the  bit  of  his  war-horse,1  led  to  his  foundation 
at  Jerusalem  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre 
on  the  site  of  a  temple  of  Venus  (Soc.  HE  i.  17  ; 
Euseb.  VC  iii.  30),  and  he  also  prepared  a  form 
of  common  daily  prayer  for  the  army  (Euseb.  VC 
iv.  20). 

Though  not  even  a  catechumen,  Constantine 
delighted  in  preaching  sermons,  in  Latin,  to  the 
applauding  crowds  ;  one  of  these  has  been  preserved 
to  us  by  Eusebius  ( VC  iv.  29).  But  at  the  same 
time  his  alienation  from  Catholicism  towards 
Arianism  was  increasing  (see  infra,  p.  80),  helped 
probably  by  the  death  of  his  mother  Helena  (c.  330 
[Euseb.  VC  iii.  47] ;  buried  at  Constantinople  [Soc. 
HE  i.  17]).  The  fact  that  he  did  not  take  any  steps 
either  to  become  a  catechumen  or  to  be  baptized 
until  he  felt  near  to  death,  may  be  explained  as 
due  either  to  political  balancing,  or  to  lack  of 
decision,  or,  more  probably,  to  the  belief  that 
baptism,  like  the  heathen  lustrations,  ensured  the 
remission  of  sins,  and  to  the  growing  dread  of 
post-baptismal  sin.  He  was  finally  baptized  by 
the  Arian  bishop  Eusebius  of  Nicomedia  (Euseb. 
VC  iv.  62-63;  Jerome,  Chron.,  ann.  2353  [in  PL 
xxvii.  680]).  In  the  Greek  Church  he  has  practic- 
ally been  canonized  by  the  title  'Io-air6o-To\os,  '  Equal 
to  the  Apostles. ' 

Into  the  large  question  of  the  advantage  or  other- 
wise to  the  Church  of  Constantine's  adoption  of 

1  Soc.  HE  i.  17 ;  Soz.  HE  ii.  1 ;  too  characteristic  to  be  an 
invention.  But  the  rest  of  the  chapter — 'the  Invention  of  the 
Cross ' — must  be  discredited  owing  to  the  complete  silence  of 
Euseb.  VC  iii.  26,  30,  and  of  the  Itin.  Burdigalense  (written  333 
[in  CSEL  xxxix.]).  The  story  is  first  found  in  Cyril  of  Jerusalem 
(b.  315),  Ep.  ad  Const.  3,  the  genuineness  of  which  is,  however, 
doubtful. 


CONSTANTINB 


79 


Christianity  as  the  State  religion,  we  cannot  enter. 
The  familiar  lines  of  Dante  (Inferno,  xix.  115), 
1  Ah  !  Constantine  I  to  how  much  ill  gave  birth, 
Not  thy  conversion,  but  those  rich  domains 
That  the  first  wealthy  Pope  received  of  thee,' 
have  really  a  wider  significance  than   the  false 
donation ;   and  the  judgment  of  Mill  (Essay  on 
Liberty,  ch.  2)  deserves  to  he  pondered :  '  It  is  a 
bitter  thought  how  different  the  Christianity  of 
the  world  might  have  been,  had  it  been  adopted 
as  the  religion  of  the  Empire  under  the  auspices  of 
Marcus  Aurelius,  instead  of  those  of  Constantine  ! ' 
For  a  contrary  judgment  cf.   Newman,  Arians, 
1871,  p.  248. 

IV.  Constantine  and  the  Church. — (a)  Relations 
of  Ckurch  and  State. — Nothing  was  further  from 
the  intention  of  Constantine  than  to  abandon  to 
the  Church  any  portion  of  his  Imperial  prerogative, 
and  this  determination  would  be  increased  by  the 
sycophancy  of  the  Court  clergy.  Into  his  adoption 
of  the  new  religion  he  carried  all  the  old  Roman 
ideas,  for  his  '  conversion '  was  not  a  revolution  in 
the  political  genius  of  the  Empire.  Whatever 
crudity  there  may  have  been  about  his  religious 
opinions,  his  views  as  an  official  were  clear.  To 
the  Roman  governor  religion  was  a  department  of 
the  civil  service.  The  consequences  of  this  are 
apparent  in  the  after  history  of  the  Church.  The 
Emperor,  it  is  true,  could  not  be  the  Pontifex 
Maximus  of  the  new  religion — this  title,  retained 
by  Constantine,  was  dropped  by  Gratian  (Zos.  iv. 
36),  and  in  time  lapsed  to  the  Bishop  of  Rome — 
but  the  new  autocracy  founded  by  Diocletian  and 
himself  (on  this  see  Gibbon,  ch.  xvii.,  with  Bury's 
appendix)  made  this  of  less  moment  than  for  the 
early  Caesars.  For  that  matter,  the  official  title  of 
the  new  monarchy  was  the  higher  '  deus '  (Schiller, 
op.  cit.  ii.  33,  34).  In  consequence,  in  the  Eastern 
Church  the  Emperor  was  always  the  supreme  head, 
as  his  modern  representative,  the  Czar,  is  to-day ; 
but  in  the  West  the  abandonment  by  Constantine 
of  Rome  for  his  new  capital  gave  the  bishops  of 
Rome  their  great  opportunity. 

Thus  Constantine  and  his  successors,  while  giving 
the  Church  Councils  full  liberty  of  discussion,  in- 
sisted that  their  own  consent  was  necessary  to  con- 
fer validity  on  the  canons  ;  and  they  regulated  the 
business  by  Imperial  commissioners,  often  laymen. 
So,  at  the  Council  of  Aries,  Constantine  deputed 
Bishop  Marinus  to  preside  (Euseb.  HE  x.  5.  19j 
Mansi,  ii.  469) ;  at  the  Council  of  Nice,  Bishop 
Hosius  of  Cordova  (on  this  complicated  question 
see  DCB  i.  168,  and,  for  the  Rom.  Cath.  view, 
Hefele,  Councils,  Eng.  tr.  1871,  i.  37  ff.);  while  at 
the  Council  of  Tyre  (335)  he  sent  the  consular 
Dionysius  as  commissioner  (Euseb.  VC  iv.  42  ;  PL 
viii.  562).  The  doctrine  asserted  by  Constantine 
was  never  wholly  lost  even  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  and  was  of  great  influence  as  late  as  the 
Council  of  Constance  (cf.  also  Articles  of  the 
Anglican  Church,  no.  21). 

(b)  Constantine  and  heresy. — To  the  Roman 
magistrate  religious  recusancy  was  tantamount  to 
political  disaffection.  Constantine  and  his  suc- 
cessors were  therefore  driven,  almost  before  the 
ink  on  the  decree  of  toleration  was  dry,  to  deal 
with  heresies  and  schisms  within  the  Church  itself. 
To  allow  the  Church  to  be  rent  into  diverse  parties 
would  be  to  destroy  the  very  solidarity  and  uni- 
versality ('catholic')  which  had  marked  it  out  to 
the  politician  from  all  other  religions  as  destined 
to  become  supreme.  Hence  the  anxiety  of  Con- 
stantine to  secure  the  peace  of  the  '  legitimate 
Catholic  Church'  (Euseb.  HE  x.  5.  20). 

(i. )  Constan tine's  first  intervention  was  in  regard 
to. the  Donatists  (g.v.). 

For  Constantine  and  the  Donatists  we  have  Optatus  Milev. 
ie  Schismate  Donatist.  (written  about  375)  i.  22  f . ;  but  Optatus 
le    neither   complete    nor   altogether   trustworthy.    We   also 


possess  a  valuable  collection  of  anonymous  documents,  Decern 
Monumenta  Vet.  ad  Donatist.  hist,  pertinentia,  usually  bound 
up  with  Optatus  (best  ed.  of  both  by  C.  Ziwsa  in  CSEL  xxvi. 
[1893] ;  also  by  Dupin  [1702]  and  Migne,  PL  viii.  674  ff.).  Certain 
letters  of  Augustine  (Epp.  88,  43)  add  to  our  knowledge.  For  a 
critical  examination  see  O.  Seeck,  '  Quellen  u.  Urkunden  iiber 
die  Anfange  des  Donatismus'  in  Zttchr.f.  Kirchengesch.  x.  [1889] 
605-568,  and  L.  Duchesne,  Le  Dossier  du  donatisme,  Paris,  1889. 

In  answer  to  the  appeal  of  the  Donatists  (15th 
Apr.  313)  forwarded  by  Anulinus,  proconsul  of 
Africa,  Constantine  summoned  Csecilian,  bishop  of 
Carthage,  and  the  ten  accusing  bishops  to  appear 
at  Rome  before  a  synod  over  which  he  instructed 
Pope  Miltiades  to  preside  (Euseb.  HE  x.  5.  18 ; 
August.  Ep.  88,  c.  Crescon.  iii.  81).  At  the  same 
time,  prompted  by  Hosius,  bishop  of  Cordova,  he 
gave  Caecilian  certain  marks  of  his  esteem  (Euseb. 
HE  x.  6).  The  synod  met  (2-4  Oct.  313)  in  'the 
casa  of  Fausta  on  the  Lateran,'  and  the  decision 
was  given  against  the  Donatists  (Optat.  op.  cit.  i. 
23-24 ;  Aug.  contra  Ep.  Parmen.  i.  10 ;  Ep.  43,  5 
[14]).  On  the  further  appeal  of  the  Donatists, 
Caecilian  was  detained  at  Brescia  (ib.  i.  26),  and 
two  bishops  were  dispatched  by  Constantine  to 
Africa  to  make  inquiries  '  ubi  esset  Catholica.'  As 
they  reported  in  favour  of  Caecilian,  the  Donatists 
pressed  the  appeal,  and  Constantine  ordered  the 
case  to  be  re-tried  at  Aries  (Euseb.  HE  x.  5.  21  ; 
Optat.  op.  cit.  i.  26 ;  Decern  Mon.  Vet.  iii.  iv.  v.).1 
About  the  same  time  (Feb.  15,  315)  a  commission 
was  appointed  by  Constantine  to  inquire  into  the 
guilt  of  bp.  Felix  of  Autumni.2  Of  the  decisions 
of  Aries  we  have  only  fragmentary  evidence  (F. 
Maassen,  Quellen  des  canon.  Bechts,  Graz,  1870, 
p.  188 ff),  and  its  date,  1st  Aug.  314  or  316,  13 
uncertain,  though  probably  the  latter.3  As  the 
Donatists  were  still  not  satisfied,  Constantine 
heard  their  appeal  at  Milan  (10th  Nov.  316 ; 
Augustine,  c.  Crescon.  iii.  16,  67,  82,  iv.  9,  ad 
Don.  19,  33,  56),  and  confirmed  the  decisions  of  the 
Councils  (August.  Brev.  coll.  Carth.  d.  iii.  c.  12 ft'., 
contra  Ep.  Parm.  i.  11 ;  cf.  PL  viii.  750).  Con- 
stantine thereupon  issued  edicts  confiscating  the 
churches  of  the  Donatists  (August.  Ep.  105,  2,  9  ; 
88,  3),  though  within  a  few  years  (5th  May  321)  he 
adopted  a  policy  of  toleration  or  indifference 
(Optatus,  Dec.  Mon.  Vet.  viii.,  Brev.  iii.  40,  42  ;  cf. 
Aug.  ad  Don.  56,  Ep.  141,  9). 

(ii. )  As  regards  other  heretics,  Eusebius  ( VC  iii. 
63-65)  tells  us  of  his  zeal  against  '  Novatians, 
Valentinians,  Marcionites,  Paulians '  (i.e.  followers 
of  Paul  of  Samosata),  those  '  who  are  called 
Cataphrygians '  (i.e.  Montanists)  and  the  confisca- 
tion of  their  meeting- places  to  'the  Catholic 
Church.'  Thus,  as  Eusebius  puts  it,  '  the  savage 
beasts  were  driven  to  flight.'  Constantine's  refusal 
to  '  heretics '  of  the  privileges  granted  to  the  Church 
became  part  of  the  law  of  the  Empire  (Cod.  Th. 
xvi.  5.  1  j  Cod.  Just.  i.  5.  1 ;  in  326). 

(iii.)  To  the  greater  Arian  difficulty  which 
distracted  the  Eastern  Church  [see  art.  Arianism, 
vol.  i.  p.  777]  the  attention  of  Constantine  seems 
to  have  been  drawn  about  the  year  319.  As  a 
majority  of  the  bishops  of  Asia  appeared  to  support 
Arius'  cause,  Constantine,  in  the  hope  of  ending 
the  dispute,  first  sent  his  confidential  adviser 
Hosius,  bishop  of  Cordova,  to  Bishop  Alexander  of 
Alexandria  and  the  presbyter  Arius,  with  a  char- 
acteristic letter  begging  them  to  lay  aside  'this 
insignificant  subject  of  controversy '  and  co-operate 

1  If  no.  v.  is  genuine,  it  was  either  dictated  by  Hosius  or 
shows  interpolations.  It  does  not  seem  to  the  present  writer 
that  it  can  be  safely  used  with  reference  to  Constantine's 
character  and  Christianity  at  this  period. 

2  This  is  the  correct  form,  not  Aptungi.  For  the  text  of  this 
trial  see  Dei/.  Mon.  Vet.  ii.,  in  CSEL  xxvi.  197,  and  for  its  date 
L.  Duchesne,  op.  cit.  p.  644. 

3  So  Seeck,  op.  cit.  ;  but  Duchesne,  op.  cit.  p.  640,  argues  for 
314  ;  time  for  the  events  seems  to  the  present  writer  to  demand 
the  later  daie.  For  the  decisions  see  Dec.  Mon.  Vet.  iv.  (CSEL 
xxvi.  206),  also  in  PL  viii.  818 ;  August.  Ep.  43.  For  the 
council  see  PL  viii.  815  ;  Hefele,  Councils,  Eng.  tr.  i.  180  ff. 


80 


OONSTANTINB 


with  him  in  restoring  unity  (Euseb.  VC  ii.  64- 
72).  As  this  failed,  Constantine,  on  the  advice  of 
Hosius  (Sulpic.  Severus,  Chron.  ii.  40,  5  ed.  Halm  in 
CSEL  i. ),  summoned  a  Council  which  met  at 
Nicsea  (19th  June-25th  Aug.  325).  The  'ecu- 
menical '  {alKov/jAvq,  i.e.  '  of  the  Empire,'  cf.  Lk  21  and 
CIL,  passim)  character  of  the  Council — about  10 
bishops  from  the  West,  and  308  from  the  East 
(Athanasius,  ad  Afros,  2 ;  cf.  Soc.  HE  i.  9) — and 
its  importance  alike  mark  the  beginning  of  a  new 
era  for  Christianity.  Its  controversies  do  not 
concern  us  ;  but  for  our  present  purpose  it  should 
be  noted  that  the  influence  of  Constantine  for  peace 
was  considerable  (Theod.  HE  i.  11),  that  the 
Council  was  summoned  in  his  name  (Euseb.  KCiii. 
6),  that  Constantine  presided  at  the  opening  (ib. 
iii.  10 ff.)  and  addressed  it  at  its  close  (ib.  iii.  21), 
and  that  he  communicated  its  decision  to  the 
Church  of  Alexandria  (Soc.  HE  i.  9).  But  in  328 
there  was  a  change  of  policy.  Whether  owing  to 
the  influence  of  his  sister  Constantia,  the  widow 
of  Licinian,  who  had  herself  been  influenced  by 
Eusebius  of  Nicomedia,  or  because  Constantine 
was  now  more  in  touch  with  the  speculative  East 
than  in  his  earlier  years,  he  sought  a  less  stringent 
enforcement  of  Nicene  doctrine.  The  Arianizing 
Eusebius  of  Nicomedia,  who  had  been  banished  at 
the  close  of  the  Council,  now  reappeared  and  gained 
the  Emperor's  ear.  The  result  was  seen  in  the 
deposition  of  Athanasius  (cf.  vol.  ii.  p.  169,  or 
W.  Bright  in  DCB  i.  186)  by  the  Council  of  Tyre 
(335),  his  banishment  by  Constantine  (336)  to 
Treves,  the  rehabilitation  of  Arius  by  Constantine 
(Soc.  HE  i.  26),  and  the  order  that  he  should  be 
received  back  into  fellowship  at  Constantinople 
(336).  The  death  of  Constantine  left  the  Arian 
trouble  to  his  successors,  under  whom  Arianism 
became  still  more  identified  with  Court  circles. 

We  may  point  out  that  Constantine's  whole 
policy  as  regards  heresy  and  unity  fastened  upon 
the  Church  for  sixteen  hundred  years  a  policy  of 
intolerance.  The  result  was  soon  seen  in  the  case 
of  Priscillian  (see  Peiscillianism). 

(c)  Endowments. — The  supposed  'Donation  of 
Constantine,'  all-important  historically  as  this 
falsehood  proved,  need  not  detain  us.  It  carried 
with  it  the  story  of  Constantine's  leprosy,  and 
baptism  by  Sylvester  at  Rome. 

The  story  will  be  found  in  PL  viii.  567-578.  Its  date  was  pro- 
bably the  8th  century.  In  1229  two  men  who  ventured  to  doubt 
its  genuineness  were  burnt  at  Strassburg,  and  as  late  as  1633  it 
was  deemed  heresy  to  dispute  it  (Lea,  Inquisition  in  Middle 
Ages,  1888,  iii.  668  n.).  Its  overthrow  by  L.  Valla  (in  Donat. 
Const.  Declam.  in  Brown,  Faseic.  Rerum  Expetend.  [1690]  i. 
132)  was  one  of  the  first  results  of  the  Renaissance. 

The  benefactions  of  Constantine  were,  however, 
considerable.  For  instance,  he  sent  Caecilian, 
bishop  of  Carthage,  3000  folles  (<poWeU),  or  purses, 
i.e.  nearly  £18,000  (Euseb.  HE  x.  6  ;  cf.  VC  iv.  28). 
Great  sums  were  also  spent  on  the  building  of 
churches  (Euseb.  HE  x.  2.  3.  4),  especially  at  Jeru- 
salem (Holy  Sepulchre  [Euseb.  VC  iii.  34-40]), 
Bethlehem  (ib.  43),  Nicomedia  (ib.  50),  and  Rome. 
Of  his  benefactions  to  the  great  basilicas  at  Rome 
we  possess  a  list  that  seems  authentic  (PL  viii. 
803 ff.),  though  many  of  the  gifts  mentioned  are 
later  accumulations  (Duchesne,  Lib.  Pont.  i.  Introd. 
p.  152).  Of  great  importance  from  another  stand- 
point is  his  order  of  hf  ty  copies  of  the  Scriptures 
'  legibly  described  and  of  a  portable  size '  (Euseb. 
VC  iv.  36). 

V.  Influence  of  Constantine's  establishment  of 
Christianity  upon  legislation.— The  following  are 
the  most  important  evidences  of  the  growth,  during 
the  reign  of  Constantine,  of  specifically  Christian 
laws  or  of  the  influence  of  Christian  sentiment. 

i.  MORALS.— (a)  Slaves.—  There  was  no  aboli- 
tion of  slavery ;  this  was  not  a  burning  question 
in  the  Early  Church.     But  slaves  condemned  to 


games  or  to  the  mines  must  not  be  branded  in  the 
face,  '  which  is  fashioned  in  the  likeness  of  the 
Divine  beauty'  (Cod.  Th.  ix.  40.  2,  March  315; 
PL  viii.  119).  In  dividing  estates,  families  of 
slaves  must  not  be  separated  (Cod.  Th.  ii.  25,  in 
334 ;  PL  viii.  376).  Masters  must  not  kill  or 
wantonly  torture  their  slaves  (Cod.  Th.  ix.  12, 
chs.  1,  2  in  319  and  326 ;  Cod.  Just.  ix.  14 ;  PL 
viii.  161).  But  the  wording  of  this  last  law  left 
many  loopholes  of  escape,  while  fugitive  slaves 
must  not  only  be  given  up  (Cod.  Just.  vi.  1.  4,  in 
317 ;  PL  viii.  150),  but  could  be  examined  by 
torture  (Cod.  Just.  vi.  1.  4.  6,  in  317  and  333)  or 
deprived  of  a  foot  (ib.  vi.  1.  3,  undated).  The 
abolition  of  crucifixion  (Soz.  HE  i.  8)  and  the 
breaking  of  legs  (Aur.  Victor,  Cms.  41)  would 
chiefly  apply  to  slaves.  But  the  illegality  of 
Christians  being  held  as  slaves  by  Jews  (Euseb. 
VC  iv.  27 ;  Cod.  Th.  xvi.  9.  1,  2,  4,  xvi.  8.  6  ;  cf. 
Cod.  Just.  i.  10)  witnessed  rather  to  the  growing 
hatred  of  the  Jews  (cf.  Cod.  Th.  xvi.  8.  1 ;  Cod. 
Just.  i.  9.  3 ;  PL  viii.  130,  in  Oct.  315). 

(b)  Gladiators. — Gladiatorial  shows  were  pro- 
hibited in  325  (Cod.  Th.  xv.  12.  1 ;  PL  viii.  293 ; 
Cod.  Just.  xi.  44 ;  cf.  Euseb.  VC  iv.  25 ;  Soc.  HE 
i.  18),  though  the  law  was  certainly  not  enforced 
in  Italy.  That  at  Constantinople  there  were  never 
any  gladiatorial  shows  may  De  ascribed  to  the 
influence  of  Christianity,  when  we  remember  Con- 
stantine's bloody  slaughters  at  Treves  in  his  early 
life  (Eumen.  Paneg.  12). 

(c)  Adultery,  etc. — (1)  Concubinage  was  dis- 
allowed for  married  men  (Cod.  Just.  v.  26  in  326  ; 
cf.  Digest,  i.  25.  7).  (2)  Rape,  etc.,  was  to  be 
severely  punished,  the  woman,  even  if  not  a  con- 
senting party,  by  disinheritance ;  abettors,  if 
slaves,  by  burning,  if  freemen,  by  banishment 
(Cod.  Th.  ix.  23.  1  ;  PL  viii.  195-198,  in  April  320). 

(d)  Children,  debtors,  etc. — (1)  Poor  parents  were 
forbidden  to  kill  their  infant  children,  the  care  of 
whom  was  henceforth  to  be  an  Imperial  charge 
(Cod.  Th.  xi.  27. 1,  2  ;  for  Italy  first  in  315  [PL  viii. 
121],  then  for  Africa  and  other  provinces  ,in  322 
[PL  viii.  236]).  The  Christian  sentiment  of  this 
law  (cf.  Lactant.  Instit.  vi.  20)  is  more  obvious 
than  its  correct  political  economy.  Exposure  of 
children  was  not  forbidden  until  374  (Cod.  Just. 
viii.  51.  2,  ix.  16.  7).  The  growing  poverty  of  the 
Empire  alone  was  responsible  for  Constantine's 
allowing  the  sale  of  infant  children  by  poor  people 
(Cod.  Th.  v.  8.  1 ;  v.  7.  1,  in  329  and  331  ;  cf.  Cod. 
Just.  iv.  43) — a  practice  forbidden  in  294  by  Dio- 
cletian (Cod.  Just.  I.e.).  (2)  Illegitimate  children 
were  legitimized  by  after-wedlock  in  the  case  of 
free-born  women  (Cod.  Just.  v.  27.  1,  5,  in  336 ; 
cf.  PL  viii.  387-389).  (3)  Debtors  must  not  be 
scourged,  or,  except  in  special  cases,  imprisoned 
(Cod.  Th.  xi.  7.  3,  in  Feb.  320;  PL  viii.  189). 
Prisoners  were  not  to  be  confined  without  air  and 
light,  or  with  '  chains  that  cleave  to  their  bones,' 
or  to  be  imprisoned  before  trial  (Cod.  Th.  ix.  3.  1, 
2  ;  Cod.  Just.  ix.  4.  1,2,  in  320  and  326  ;  PL  viii. 
199,  299). 

ii.  Clergy  and  Christian  worship.— (a) 
The  'Catholic'  clergy  were  freed  from  the  dis- 
charge of  civil  duties  (Cod.  Th.  xvi.  1,  2,  in  Nov. 
313,  Oct.  319 ;  PL  viii.  102,  180),  but  in  July  320 
the  abuse  of  this  led  to  its  restriction  (PL  viii. 
200),  as  was  also  the  case  in  June  326  (Cod.  Th. 
xvi.  2,  6  ;  PL  viii.  314).  (6)  Exception  was  made 
to  the  lex  Papia  Poppoea  against  celibacy  in 
favour  of  the  clergy,  thus  allowing  them  to  in- 
herit (Cod.  Th.  xvi.  2.  4).  (c)  Public  works  and 
the  sitting  of  the  courts  were  forbidden  on  Sundays, 
'dies  solis'  (Cod.  Th.  ii.  8.  1 ;  Cod.  Just.  iii.  12.  2, 
in  July  321  ;  PL  viii.  224  ;  note  the  balanced  '  dies 
solis,'  which  would  suit  Mithraism  also),  (d)  Manu- 
missions were  permitted  to  be  solemnly  made  in 


CONSUMPTION  (Economic) 


81 


churches  as  well  as  in  temples  {Cod,  Th.  xvi.  2.  4, 
iv.  7.  1 ;  Cod.  Just.  i.  13.  1,  2,  in  316  and  Ap.  321 ; 
PL  viii.  214  f.).  As  these  manumissions  were 
made  on  Sundays,  and  especially  at  Easter,  Chris- 
tianity became  associated  in  the  public  mind  with 
the  release  of  slaves. 

iil.  Pagan  worship  and  rites.— {a)  Prohibi- 
tion of  pagan  sacrifices  in  general  (Euseb.  VC  ii. 
44,  45,  iv.  23,  25). 

That  there  was  such  a  law  may  be  inferred  from  Cod.  Th.  xvi. 
10. 2,  *  law  of  our  divine  Father,'  but  it  was  certainly  not  carried 
out  in  the  West,  where  the  progress  of  Christianity  was  but 
Blow  (S.  Dill,  Roman  Society  in  the  Last  Century  of  the  W. 
Empire,  1898,  vol.  i.  ch.  L  ;  cf.  A.  Beugnot,  Hist,  de  la  destruc- 
tion du  paganisme  [Paris,  1835],  i.  106  ff.).  Moreover,  Con- 
stantino more  than  once  proclaimed  liberty  to  the  pagans  to 
enjoy  their  temples  (Euseb.  VC  ii.  56,  60  ;  Constant.  Orat.  ad 
Sanct.  Coet.  11 ;  cf.  Libanius  [c.  384],  Orat.  pro  Templis  [ed. 
Foerster],  iii.  xxx ;  Symmachus,  Ep.  x.  4).  The  question  is  well 
discussed  in  de  Broglie  (op.  cit.  i.  446-451).  Beugnot  (op.  cit. 
i.  100)  takes  the  prohibition  to  refer  to  nocturnal  and  private 
sacrifices  only. 

{b)  The  re-enactment,  Feb.  and  May  319,  of  the 
law  of  Tiberius  against  divination  {Cod.  Th.  ix.  16. 
1,  2;  PL  viii.  155,  162).  In  Dec.  319  the  con- 
sultation of  haruspices  was  allowed  whes  public 
buildings  were  struck  by  lightning  {Cod.  Th.  xvi. 
10.  1 ;  PL  viii.  202). 

Literature.— (a)  Sources. — The  estimate  we  form  of  Con- 
stantine depends  chiefly  upon  the  value  we  attach  to  the 
conflicting  authorities.  Some  of  the  Latin  sources  may  con- 
veniently be  read  in  Migne,  PL  viii.,  'Opera  Constantini';  but, 
as  this  is  both  incomplete  and  uncritical,  and  contains  much 
that  is  false,  it  should  be  used  with  care,  especially  as  regards 
Constantine's  correspondence.  For  the  Life  of  Constantine  we 
gain  most  from  the  following :  The  Panegyrists,  inflated  Gallic 
orations  delivered  on  state  occasions,  but  with  a  valuable 
residuum  of  fact.  Two,  delivered  in  307  and  313,  are  of  un- 
known authorship,  three  are  probably  by  Eumenius  (297,  310, 
311),  and  one  byNazarius  (321);  in  Migne,  PL  viii.  681  ff.,  or, 
better,  A.  Bahren's  XII  Panegyrici  Lat.  (1874),  to  which 
edition  references  have  been  made  by  number  and  chapter. 
Another  work  of  special  pleading,  though  from  a  different 
standpoint,  is  the  de  Mortibus  Persecutorum  (best  ed.  by  S. 
Brandt,  in  CSEL  xxvii.  [1897]).  This  work,  ascribed  in  the  MS 
to  an  unknown  L.  Csecilius,  was  attributed  before  the  close  of 
the  4th  cent.,  e.g.  by  Jerome  in  393  (de  Vir.  lllust.  80),  to  L. 
Caecilius  Firmianus  Lactantius.  The  genuineness  of  this  ascrip- 
tion has  been  assailed  by  his  editor,  S.  Brandt  (SWAW  cxxv. 
[1892]),  and  justified  by  Bury  (Gibbon,  ii.  531-532).  The  date  is 
probably  about  315.  Of  the  works  of  Eusebius  of  Caesarea,  the 
HE,  published  early  in  326,  is  of  great  value,  but  the  Vita 
Constantini  (VC)  in  four  books,  written  between  337  and  340,  is  a 
pious  eulogy  (see  Socrates,  HE  i.  1)  rather  than  serious  history 
(best  ed.  of  Eusebius  by  Heinichen  [1868-70] ;  good  Eng.  tr. 
by  McGiffert  and  Richardson  [New  York,  1890]).  Of  con- 
temporary non-Christian  writers  we  may  mention  Constantine's 
secretary  Eutropius,  Breviarium  ab  urbe  condita  (ed.  F.  Ruehl, 
1887,  or  H.  Droysen  in  MGH  ii.  [1878]).  A  most  valuable  source 
is  the  anonymous  fragment  first  printed  by  H.  Valois,  hence 
called  Anonymus  Valesii  (best  ed.  by  Mommsen  in  Chronica 
Minora,  MGH  [1892]  i.  7-11).  As  the  clerical  passages  in  it 
have  been  shown  by  Mommsen  (op.  cit.  pref.  p.  6)  to  be  inter- 
polations from  Orosius,  it  wai  probably  written  before  the 
establishment  of  Christianity.  The  valuable  contemporary 
pagan  history  of  Praxagoras  is  known  to  us  only  in  a  brief 
summary  of  Photius  (in  C.  Muller,  FHG  iv.  2  [Paris,  1851]). 

Of  later  writers  we  may  single  out  Eunapius  of  Sardis  (347- 
414).  His  History  (ed.  O.  Muller,  ib.  iv.  7-56)  was  one  of  the 
main  sources  of  the  anti-Christian  Zosimus,  whose  Histoi-y  (ed. 
L.  Mendelssohn,  1887)  was  written  towards  the  close  of  the  5th 
cent.,  and  is  of  great  value  in  spite  of  its  bias.  The  Oration  on 
Constantine  of  Julian  the  Apostate  (ed.  F.  C.  Hertlein,  1875-76) 
is  always  of  value  for  what  it  concedes.  Ammianus  Marcellinus 
£b.  330)  in  his  great  work  Res  Gestce  (ed.  V.  Gardthausen,  1874, 
Eng.  tr.  Ph.  Holland,  1609),  though  a  pagan,  treats  Christianity 
without  bitterness.  Another  important  source  is  the  Chronicon 
PaschaU  (ed.  T.  Mommsen  in  MGH  i.  [1892]  199ffA  Of  the 
Christian  historians,  Socrates  (HE)  and  Sozomen  (HE),  who 
both  wrote  about  440,  add  little  to  Eusebius,  while  the  later 
Greek  chroniclers  may  safely  be  neglected.  For  Constantine 
and  the  Donatists  see  supra  IV.  b.  (1),  p.  79. 

The  Laws  of  Constantine,  an  important  source,  must  be 
studied  in  the  Codes  of  Theodosius  and  Justinian,  especially 
the  former.  As  the  Code  of  Theodosius  is  very  bulk*"  (ed. 
Godfrey,  with  valuable  commentaries,  6  vols.,  Leipzig,  1736-45  ; 
also  ed.  Hanel,  Bonn,  1842),  the  student  may  content  himself 
with  the  chronological  excerpts  in  Migne,  PL  viii.  92-400.  For 
the  Code  of  Justinian  reference  should  be  made  to  the  ed.  of 
P.  Krueger  (Berlin,  1877).  Almost  as  important  as  the  written 
sources  is  the  evidence  of  Constantine's  coins  and  medals. 
The  value  of  these  has  been  well  brought  out  by  Schiller  (op. 
cit.  infra).  For  further  study  reference  may  be  made  to  the 
well-known  works  of  H.  Cohen,  Descr.  hist,  des  monnaies 
frappies  sous  Vempire  romain  (Paris,  1863) ;  J.  Eckhel,  Doct. 
Num.  Vet.  vol.  viii.  (Vienna,  1797).  Garrucci's  Numismatica 
vol..  iv. — 6 


Constantiniana  (Rome,  1S50)  does  not  seem  to  be  in  the  Brit, 
Mus.  (1910),  but  is  partly  translated  in  C.  W.  King,  Early 
Christian  Numismatics  (Lond.  1873).  M.  Madden's  'Chris- 
tian Emblems  on  the  Coins  of  Constantine  the  Great '  fin  the 
Numismatic  Chronicle,  London,  1877-78)  is  of  great  value. 

(6)  RECENT  WRITERS. — Constantine  nas  been  trea1^  with 
great  fullness  in  all  Church  Histories  and  Distionari »  (the  art. 
by  J.  Wordsworth  in  Smith'B  DCB  is  of  special  ?alue),  and  in 
numerous  monographs.  (For  a  good  list  of  these  up  to  1890 
see    Richardson's    Introd.    in    Schaff,    Ante-Nicene    Library, 

1  Eusebius,'  pp.  455-465.)  The  following  works  are  essential 
for  the  general  history  :  E.  Gibbon,  ed,  J.  B.  Bury  (1896 ;  new 
edition,  1910ff.),  with  valuable  notes  and  appendixes;  and 
H.  Schiller,  Gesch.  d.  rbm.  Kaiserzeit,  2  vols.  (Gotha,  1887). 
Of  special  monographs  mentioned  in  this  study  the  following 
may  be  singled  out :  J.  Burckhardt,  Die  Zeit  Constantin's  des 
Grossen  (Basel,  1853  ;  2nd  ed.,  Leipzig,  1880)  ;  O.  Seeck,  Gesch. 
des  Untergangs  der  antiken  Welt,  2  vols.  (Berlin,  1896-1901) ; 
V.  Schultze,  Gesch.  d.   Untergangs  d.  gr.-rom.   Heidentums, 

2  vols.  (Jena,  1887-92).  Of  older  works,  the  conservative 
J.  V.  A.  de  Broglie,  L'Eglise  et  Vempire  rom.  au  iv*  siecle, 

3  vols.  (Paris,  1856),  A.  P.  Stanley,  Eastern  Church*  (1876 ; 
brilliant  portrait  of  Constantine),  and  G-  Boissier's  La  Fin  du 
paganisme,  2  vols.  (Paris,  1891),  should  not  be  overlooked. 

H.  B.  Workman. 

CONSUMPTION  (Economic).  —Since  The 
Wealth  of  Nations  gave  the  consumer  rather  than 
the  producer  or  the  merchant  the  first  right  to 
consideration,  questions  relating  to  consumption 
have  always  been  prominent  in  Economics,  though, 
especially  in  English  books,  they  have  not  been 
formed  into  a  separate  branch  of  doctrine.  It  was 
thought  that  general  questions  about  desire  and 
utility  were  matter  for  Ethics,  and  should  have  a 
place  in  the  preface,  but  not  in  the  body,  of  Econ- 
omics. This  is  still  a  common  view,  even  when  it 
is  held  that  '  a  true  theory  of  consumption  is  the 
keystone  of  political  economy1  (Keynes,  Scope  and 
Method  of  Polit.  Econ.,  Lond.  1891,  p.  107).  And  the 
special  or  more  practical  questions  of  consumption 
are  then  taken  up  under  the  familiar  heads  of 
production  {q.v.),  distribution  (g.v,),  and  public 
finance  or  policy.  The  place  which  the  general 
doctrine  of  consumption  is  now  likely  to  hold  is 
due  to  a  better  systematizing  of  the  matter  of 
Economics — as  a  science  rather  than  into  a  series  of 
co-ordinate  divisions.  The  theory  of  value  is  made 
the  centre,  and  from  it  come  two  questions,  viz.  the 
conditions  of  demand  and  the  conditions  of  supply. 
The  question  of  demand  is  that  of  consumption. 

Its  topic  is  utility,  and  its  cardinal  notion  the 
Law  of  Diminishing  Utility.  An  object  or  service 
has  utility  so  far  as  it  satisfies  a  desire.  When 
bought  it  is  bought  for  its  utility  ;  when  consumed 
it  is  only  the  utility  that  is  destroyed ;  when  pro- 
duced it  is  utility  that  is  given  to  it. 

The  Law  of  Diminishing  Utility  is :  other  things 
being  equal,  there  is  always  a  point  beyond  which 
the  utility  of  a  commodity  diminishes  for  every 
additional  quantity  of  it  that  one  possesses.  It 
might  be  called  the  Law  of.  Diminishing  Desire. 
Us  basis  is  the  familiar  fact  that  as  a  desire 
becomes  satisfied  it  becomes  exhausted  for  the 
time  being.  This  is  true  not  merely  of  appetites, 
but  of  higher  desires  whose  satisfaction  begets 
others.  And  it  is  true  for  indirect  consumption 
(when  commodities  are  used  as  means  of  produc- 
tion) as  well  as  for  direct  consumption  (when  they 
directly  satisfy  a  desire).  Simple  though  the  law 
is,  it  has  (1)  an  important  theoretical  use,  and  (2) 
still  more  important  practical  applications. 

i.  Theoretically  it  accounts  for  the  price  which 
a  buyer  is  willing  to  pay — {a)  for  different  quanti- 
ties of  the  same  goods,  and  (6)  for  different  goods, 
and  so  it  accounts  (c)  for  the  prices  that  have  to  be 
paid  in  any  market. 

(a)  The  first  case  is  directly  contemplated  in  the 
law,  and  is  best  illustrated  in  the  price  that  one 
is  willing  to  pay  for  any  necessary  commodity. 
Necessaries  have  the  greatest  utility  because  they 
are  necessary,  and  in  the  pinch  of  famine  they 
command  the  highest  prices.  But  beyond  a  certain 
quantity  they  are  not  necessary,  and  then  their. 


82 


CONSUMPTION  (Economic) 


utility  is  limited  by  the  simple  desire  of  consuming 
them.  As  this  desire  becomes  satisfied,  the 
pleasure  in  consuming  diminishes,  and  with  it 
the  utility  of  the  commodity,  till  it  vanishes  alto- 
gether, because  the  desire  is  satisfied. 

(b)  Similar  considerations  are  apparent  when  we 
ask  what  we  are  willing  to  pay  for  different  com- 
modities. It  depends,  of  course,  on  our  desires. 
But  the  interest  of  the  question  is  that  these  are 
in  competition,  since  we  cannot  satisfy  them  all 
even  if  we  had  the  means;  and  the  special 
economic  interest  of  the  question  is  that  our  means 
are  limited.  It  is  the  question  how  a  given  income 
is  spent.  And  in  terms  of  the  general  law  we 
have  these  two  answers  :  (1)  every  one  seeks  to 
secure  the  greatest  Total  Utility  from  his  income, 
and  (2)  he  does  this  by  looking  to  the  Marginal 
Utility  of  his  various  purchases  in  order  to  make 
it  equal  in  them  all.  The  first  statement  is  obvious, 
but  the  second  needs  explaining.  By  marginal 
utility  is  meant  the  utility  of  any  commodity,  or 
quantity  of  it,  that  a  buyer  is  just  willing  to  take 
at  a  certain  price.  His  debate  with  himself  is 
always  whether  he  could  do  better  with  his 
shilling  now  or  in  the  future  ;  and,  if  he  buys  and 
regrets,  it  is  always  because  he  might  have  had  a 
greater  utility  for  his  shilling  if  he  had  bought 
something  else  with  it,  or  if  he  had  kept  it.  To 
spend  well  is  not  to  buy  the  same  degree  of  utility 
with  every  shilling,  for  infinite  or  necessary  utilities 
are  usually  cheap.  The  difference  between  the 
price  for  which  one  gets  them,  and  the  price  that 
one  would  be  willing  to  pay  for  them,  is  called 
the  Consumer's  Surplus. 

These  notions  of  surplus  utility,  total  utility, 
and  marginal  utility  are  most  clearly  presented  in 
diagram.  For  every  commodity  there  can  be  drawn 
a  curve  representing  all  three.  The  shape  of  the 
curve  is  different  for  different  commodities  and 
for  different  consumers  ;  but  in  accordance  with 


Y 

y 
i 

i 
i 

\ 

x 

\ 

^ 

a 

A 

\ 

the  general  law  of  diminishing  utility  it  shows  in 
all  cases  a  more  or  less  regular  fall  in  utility  with 
every  addition  to  the  quantity  bought.  Annexed 
is  the  general  curve  for  any  necessary  commodity. 
On  O  X  are  marked  the  units  of  quantity  bought, 
and  so  of  the  price  paid  ;  and  the  diminishing  areas 
drawn  on  them  represent  the  diminishing  utilities, 
the  first  being  infinite,  representing  the  infinite 
utility  of  that  unit.  The  areas  having  equal  bases, 
their  difference  may  be  represented  by  their  height, 
and  a  curve  drawn  as  in  the  figure.  If  a  consumer 
buys  7  units,  the  marginal  utility  is  that  of  the 


last  portion,  and  he  makes  this  his  marginal  pur- 
chase, because  for  the  same  unit  of  money  he 
expects  a  greater  utility  of  spending  it  on  some- 
thing else  than  on  an  eighth  unit  of  this  commodity. 
The  total  utility  is  represented  by  the  total  area 
of  the  figure,  and  the  surplus  utility  by  the  area 
AY  y  a.  Taking  all  his  purchases  into  account,  it 
is  clear  that  he  will  have  nothing  to  regret  (except, 
of  course,  the  nature  of  his  desires)  if  his  marginal 
purchases  have  all  an  equal  degree  of  utility.  For 
lie  will  thus  have  the  greatest  total  utility  from 
his  income. 

(c)  A  commodity  has  a  different  marginal  utility 
for  different  consumers,  the  difference  being  due 
to  the  difference  in  their  incomes  and  their  desires. 
Hence  with  every  price  at  which  a  commodity  is 
offered  there  corresponds  a  certain  demand ;  and, 
in  general,  the  greater  the  price  the  less  the 
demand,  and  the  less  the  price  the  greater  the 
demand.  It  is  in  expectation  of  a  sufficient  de- 
mand at  a  profitable  price  that  commodities  are 
produced,  and  it  is  on  the  correctness  of  his  expecta- 
tions, and  not  on  the  cost  of  production,  that  a 
producer  relies  for  his  price  and  profit.  This  is 
the  essential  consideration  in  the  familiar  law  of 
supply  and  demand  which  accounts  for  all  values 
that  are  fixed  by  competition  (q.v.). 

2.  As  the  ultimate  aim  of  economic  effort  is  to 
consume  what  is  produced,  the  practical  questions 
regarding  consumption  may  run  into  great  detail ; 
and  their  answers  easily  run  to  one-sidedness  if 
the  questions  are  not  systematic.  This  is  seen 
in  the  conflict  of  popular  opinions  about  the 
spending  of  the  rich.  It  would  be  hard  to  say 
whether  people  approve  more  of  the  rich  man  who 
spends  much,  and  so  spreads  his  wealth,  or  of  the 
rich  man  who  spends  little,  and  appears,  there- 
fore, not  to  give  work  to  others.  And  whatever 
may  be  thought  of  the  spendthrift,  the  miser,  and 
the  philanthropist  as  individuals,  there  is  great 
diversity  of  opinion  about  the  first  two,  and  some 
about  the  philanthropist,  as  members  of  the  body 
economic.  And  not  all  professional  economists 
appear  to  have  reconciled  the  truth  in  the  two 
opposite  statements  that  '  demand  for  commodities 
is  not  demand  for  labour,'  and  that  '  want  of  work 
is  due  to  under-consumption.' 

The  aim  of  economic  organization  and  effort  is, 
under  conditions,  to  produce  the  greatest  total 
utility ;  and,  if  we  ask  how  economic  progress  is 
to  be  estimated,  we  ask  the  conditions  on  which 
this  total  utility  depends.  First  it  depends  on  the 
quantity  and  quality  of  wealth  produced,  and  so 
on  the  full  and  the  most  efficient  use  of  the  labour 
and  the  natural  and  acquired  resources  of  a  country. 
And  in  looking  at  the  economic  progress  of  a 
country  we  are  apt  to  look  no  further  than  at  the 
amount  and  quality  of  wealth  that  is  thus  pro- 
duced, and  at  its  distribution  with  a  view  to 
further  production.  But  the  amount  of  utility  in 
wealth  depends  on  the  intensity  and  variety  of  the 
desires  for  whose  satisfaction  the  wealth  is  con- 
sumed. This  is  the  head  under  which  all  practical 
questions  of  consumption  find  their  place.  It  is 
conveniently  divided  into  two  by  considering,  first, 
the  satisfaction  of  desires  that  all  seek  to  satisfy, 
and  then  the  satisfaction  of  other  desires.  Regard- 
ing the  former,  it  is  apparent  that  the  total  utility 
from  a  country's  produce  is  greater  when  the 
margin  at  which  the  very  poor  cease  to  purchase 
is  extended,  and  the  margin  of  others  is  contracted 
so  as  to  exclude  waste  and  gluttony.  A  country 
of  great  houses  and  vile  hovels  is  so  far  not  making 
so  much  of  its  wealth  as  one  where  the  houses  are 
less  great  and  the  hovels  less  vile. 

But  it  is  when  we  turn  from  more  or  less  neces- 
sary desires  that  we  see  the  complexity  of  the  ques- 
tion that  may  be  organized  from  the  point  of  view 


CONTEMPT 


83 


of  consumption.  It  is  here  that  there  is  the  nearest 
connexion  between  Economics  and  Ethics.  The 
moral  ideal  is  that  of  complete  living,  and  requires 
a  character  having  variety  and  depth  of  interests  or 
desires,  quite  as  much  as  one  having  these  in  unity 
or  system,  and  so  in  harmony.  In  economic  pro- 
gress there  must  he  this  variety  and  depth  if  the 
utility  of  wealth  is  to  grow  with  its  increase  ;  and 
an  obvious  point  is  that  many  desires — most  of  the 
highei  desires,  intellectual,  aesthetic,  and  social — 
are  very  little  destructive  of  utility.  The  cost  of 
creating  them,  e.g.  by  education,  is  greater  than 
the  cost  of  gratifying  them,  and  is  therefore  much 
the  more  important  consideration.  The  most  de- 
structive desires  need  no  learning. 

It  is  also  obvious  from  the  nature  of  consumption 
that  no  comment  on  an  economic  system  can  be 
more  severe  than  that  it  makes,  or  even  lets,  the 
poor  grow  poorer  while  the  rich  grow  richer.  The 
comment  is  often  made,  but  it  is  made  mainly  on 
the  erroneous  ground  that  the  gain  of  one  must 
always  be  the  loss  of  another.  It  has  not  been 
true  in  fact  of  our  present  economic  system 
(see  Distribution)  ;  still  the  comment  might 
with  advantage  be  more  absurd  on  the  face  of  it. 
From  the  same  point  of  view  it  would  be  a  very 
adverse  comment  on  the  progress  of  invention  if  it 
could  still  be  said  that  the  labourer  has  not  been 
spared  any  of  the  severity  and  exhaustion  of 
muscular  work  that  he  had  before  the  revolution 
in  industry.  For  nothing  tells  more  against  a 
wealth  of  life.  But,  on  the  contrary,  the  saving  in 
mere  hardness  of  toil  has  been  one  of  the  best 
fruits  of  invention  (see  PRODUCTION). 

While  there  is  ground  for  charging  defects  in 
consumption  not  to  thriftlessness  merely,  but  to 
the  bad  distribution  of  wealth  and  the  struggle  to 
have  rather  than  to  enjoy,  there  is  a  source  that 
is  at  least  as  serious.  So  long  as  individual  wealth 
is  devoted  to  the  service  of  a  few  desires,  its  in- 
crease must  be  consumed  with  diminishing  utility. 
Luxury  is  for  the  most  part  such  a  spending,  both 
when  it  is  for  self-indulgence  and  when  it  is  for 
ostentation  (see  Luxury).  But  the  evil  is  not  so 
much  in  the  presence  of  luxury  as  in  the  absence 
of  the  desire  for  better  things.  The  pursuit  of 
wealth  has  been  far  more  eager  than  the  pur- 
suit of  desires  wherewith  to  give  it  the  fullest 
utility.  There  is  not  yet  any  general  belief  that 
they  can  become  so  absorbing  as  those  that  need 
no  learning.  The  common  view  of  education  is 
much  more  concerned  with  giving  power  to  acquire 
than  power  to  enjoy ;  and  we  are  all  children 
enough  to  enjoy  no  property  of  a  thing  so  much  as 
that  it  is  our  own.  Such  reflexions  do  not  point 
to  a  want  of  progress  but  to  the  long  way  to  go, 
and  to  the  fundamental  way  in  which  economic 
depends  on  moral  progress. 

The  statistics  of  consumption  that  have  most 
practical  interest  are  concerned  with  the  expendi- 
ture of  small  incomes.  There  are  two  methods  of 
collecting  them.  One,  the  '  intensive '  method, 
makes  a  minute  study  of  individual  families  and 
their  mode  of  life.  It  is  most  completely  repre- 
sented in  the  work  of  Le  Play  (1806-1882)  and  his 
school.  Examples  of  it — though  not  so  minute — 
are  to  be  found  in  Booth,  Life  and  Labour  of  the 
People  in  London  (1889-97)  ;  Rowntree,  Poverty 
(1901) ;  and  in  Family  Budgets  (1896),  collected  by 
members  of  the  Economic  Club.  The  other,  the 
'extensive'  method,  looks  rather  to  the  quantity 
of  its  facts.  Its  chief  expositor  was  Ernst  Engel 
(1821-1896),  who  formulated  a  law,  usually  called 
Engel's  Law,  of  which  the  main  part  is  that  as 
income  rises  the  proportion  of  it  spent  on  food 
diminishes.  And  later  statistics  from  various 
countries  give  a  general  support  to  his  view  that 
this  proportion   may   be  used   as  a  comparative 


measure  of  well-being,  viz.  the  higher  the  pro- 
portion of  earnings  spent  on  food,  the  poorer  a 
community,  and  any  class  in  a  community.  An 
excellent  example  of  the  method  is  to  be  found 
in  the  U.S.  Bulletin  for  1903  of  the  Bureau  of 
Labour.  'The  figures  of  income  and  expendi- 
ture furnished  in  detail  by  2567  families  in  33 
States,  representing  the  leading  industrial  centres 
of  the  country,  comprise  the  material  for  the 
detailed  study  of  the  cost  of  living.  Certain 
data  which  do  not  enter  so  much  into  detail  were 
collected  in  regard  to  the  cost  of  living  in  25,440 
families.'  For  the  United  Kingdom  the  Board  of 
Trade  carried  out  an  inquiry,  and  published  an 
interesting  memorandum  on  it  in  its  Second 
Series  of  Memoranda  with  reference  to  British  and 
Foreign  Trade  (1904),  and  within  the  last  few 
years  it  has  published  extensive  Reports  on  the 
Cost  of  Living  of  the  Working  Classes  in  the 
principal  towns  of  the  United  Kingdom  (1908),  of 
Germany  (1908),  of  France  (1909),  and  of  Belgium 
(1910).  The  German  Imperial  Statistical  Office 
published  in  1909  a  report  on  the  cost  of  living  of 
892  families  with  a  small  income.  A  full  account 
of  it  will  be  found  in  the  U.S.  Bulletin  of  the 
Bureau  of  Labour,  May  1910. 

Literature.— A  general  treatment  of  the  statistics  of  con- 
sumption is  given  in  R.  Mayo-Smith,  Statistics  and  Economics 
(  =  pt.  ii.  of  Science  of  Statistics),  Lond.  1899,  with  a  biblio- 
graphical note  on  p.  19 ;  and  a  fuller  treatment  and  note  are 
to  be  found  in  art.  'Konsumtionsbudget'  in  J.  Conrad's 
Handwbrterbuch  der  StaatswissenschaftenV,  Jena,  1900.  There 
is  a  '  Bibliography  of  Studies  on  the  Cost  of  Living '  in  the 
Bulletin  of  the  Bureau  of  Labour,  May  1910. 

W.  Mitchell. 

CONTEMPT.— This  word  is  used  either  (a)  in 
the  subjective  sense  of  the  act  of  despising,  or 
(b)  objectively  of  the  condition  of  being  despised. 
In  illustration  of  (a),  Murray  (OED,  s.v.)  quotes 
from  Marbeck's  Book  of  Notes  (1581.)  the  following 
passage :  '  Contempt  consisteth  chiefelie  in  three 
things  :  for  either  wee  contemne  onelie  in  minde 
.  .  .  or  lastlie  when  we  adde  words  or  deedes, 
which  have  ignominie  or  contumelie  ioined  with 
them.'  One  of  the  most  familiar  usages  of  the 
word  is  in  the  technical  expression  'contempt  of 
court,'  as  referring  to  any  failure  to  recognize  or 
obey  the  ruler  of  a  court  of  justice  or  other  legal 
authority.  In  the  passive  sense  (6),  the  expression 
'  bring  into  contempt '  may  be  adduced  ;  more 
rare  is  the  use  of  '  a  contempt '  as  equivalent  to 
'  an  object  of  contempt '  (Gn  382S  AVm). 

I.  Terminology. — In  the  primitive  ages  the 
superiority  of  the  physically  strong  over  the 
physically  weak  was  accompanied  by  a  feeling 
of  scorn,  which  readily  reflected  itself  in  speech. 
The  defeat  of  a  foe,  or  the  successful  outwitting 
of  inferior  skill  or  cleverness  by  force  of  arms  or 
cunning,  tended  to  create  a  vocabulary  of  con- 
tempt (see  art.  BOASTING  for  similar  phenomena). 
The  word  SeiXos  ('coward')  in  Homer  came  to 
mean  '  worthless '  and  '  insignificant '  (cf.  the 
apostrophe  5  du\{,  '  poor  creature ').  All  lan- 
guages exhibit  the  inter jectional  forms  of  con- 
tempt. Sometimes  the  same  monosyllabic  ex- 
clamation is  used  to  express  other  emotions,  so 
that  its  exact  force  can  be  determined  only  by  the 
context  (cf .  '  tush  ! '  '  pish  ! '  '  pshaw  ! '  or  Lat.  phy 
or  phu).  There  are  also  dissyllabic  words  such  as 
atat  (or  attat)  in  Latin,  oi5d  (Mk  1529,  of  derisive 
joy  or  horror),  '  avaunt ! '  and  the  like.  Then  we 
have  phrases  like  is  xo'pa/cas  of  Greek  comedy,  and 
/  in  malam  crucem  of  Plautus  and  Terence.  These 
suggest  obvious  analogies  in  English  and  other 
languages.  Argumentative  scorn  expresses  itself 
in  the  Latin  use  of  scilicet,  ironical  or  contemptu- 
ous assertion  of  what  is  obviously  false  (cf.  nisi 
vero).  More  obvious  still,  as  exhibiting  the  feeling 
of  scorn  or  disgust,  is  the  opprobi'ious  apostrophe 


84 


CONTEMPT 


common  to  all  languages  (cf.  career,  crux,  pati- 
bulum,  pa.K&  [Mt  5s2],  p-oipi  [*&.],  '  dog,'  '  cur,' 
'  cullion  '  [Shakespeare,  Taming  of  Shrew,  IV.  ii. 
20],  '  geek  and  gull '  [Twelfth  Night,  V.  i.  351], 
'  John-a-dreams '  [Hamlet,  II.  ii.  595],  '  zed  '  [Lear, 

II.  ii.  69,  a  term  of  contempt,  because  last  letter  in 
the  alphabet],  et  hoc  genus  omne).  '  The  Philistine 
said  to  David,  Am  I  a  dog,  that  thou  comest  to 
me  with  staves  ? '  (1  S  1743)  ;  cf.  '  After  whom  dost 
thou  pursue  ?  after  a  dead  dog,  after  a  flea  ? '  (1  S 
2414).  '  The  Eastern  street  dog  is  a  type  of  all 
that  is  cowardly,  lazy,  filthy,  treacherous,  and 
contemptible  '  (HDB,  s.v.  '  Dog'). 

Both  in  the  Heb.  of  the  OT  and  in  the  Greek 
of  the  NT  the  verbal  forms  expressing  various 
degrees  of  scorn,  derision,  or  disparagement  are 
remarkably  rich.  In  the  OT  we  find  ns  and  no 
[original  meaning  dub.] ;  dxd  with  the  root  idea  of 
rejection  ;  pS  where  the  idea  of  scorn  is  connected 
with  the  mimicry  of  a  foreigner's  speech ;  and 
pT$i/,  'smile.'  In  the  NT  we  have  ari.fi.dta,  aBeriio, 
££ovdev4u>,  Karcuppovioj,  irepuppovtu,  oXvywptu,  and  the 
expressive  ixfivKrrjpttoi  (Lk  1614  23s5  =  '  turn  up  the 
nose  at').  The  mimetic  or  descriptive  verb  is  as 
conspicuous  in  exhibiting  the  feeling  of  disgust  as 
in  other  cases  (cf.  '  strut,'  '  swagger ')  ;  and  the 
word  iK/xvKTriplfa  recalls  Shakespeare's  '  I  will  bite 
my  thumb  at  them'  (Borneo  and  Juliet,  I.  i.  48 f., 
a  contemptuous  action  for  beginning  a  quarrel) ; 
'  to  give  ner  the  avaunt,'  i.e.  to  send  her  away 
contemptuously  (Henry  VIII.  II.  iii.  10)  ;  or  Pistol's 
expression  (2  Hen.  IV.  v.  iii.  124),  '  Fig  me,  like 
the  bragging  Spaniard '  (thumb  thrust  between 
first  and  second  fingers  as  a  mark  of  contempt  and 
insult).  The  word  ^irakrrjs  (2  P  3s,  Jude  18 ;  in 
2  P  33  ip.Trai.yij.ovr)  is  also  found)  suggests  rather 
more  obviously  external  act  or  gesture  than  Kara- 
ippovTirqs  (Ac  1341).  It  may  be  noted  in  passing 
that  contempt  takes  in  literature  the  form  of 
satire,  in  art  that  of  caricature  (see  art.  '  Satire ' 
in  EBr*  and  '  Caricature '  in  EBr1"). 

From  Lucilius  down  to  the  present  day  scorn  is 
an  ingredient  of  satire.  '  Facit  indignatio  versum,' 
said  Juvenal  (Sat.  i.  79)  ;  and  it  was  a  wholesome 
loathing  of  decadent  morals  that  inspired  such  a 
satire  as  the  Sixth,  his  '  Legend  of  Bad  Women ' 
(Mackail).  The  contempt  of  satire  is  fierce  and 
bitter  ;  but  it  can  also  be  genial,  as  in  Don  Quixote, 
where  the  follies  of  mediaeval  chivalry  are  held  up 
to  derision.  There  is  a  similar  distinction  in  the 
art  of  the  caricaturist. 

2.  Psychology. — The  psychological  analysis  of 
contempt  has  not  often  been  attempted.  It  obvi- 
ously belongs  to  the  category  of  what  Wundt 
calls  the  objective  emotions  (Outlines  of  Psycho- 
logy, ed.  1908,  p.  197),  and  is  generally  to  be 
classified  as  a  species  of  anger,  finding  a  place  in 
what  the  same  writer  distinguishes  as  the  'ex- 
citement-depression '  series  of  emotions,  or  in  what 
Royce  prefers  to  call  'the  restlessness  and  qui- 
escence series  (Outlines  of  Psychology,  1903,  p. 
178).  Macdougall,  in  his  Introduction  to  Social 
Psychology,  draws  a  distinction  between  scorn 
as  a  binary  compound  of  anger  and  disgust,  or  a 
tertiary  compound,  if  positive  self -feeling  is  added 
to  these,  and  contempt,  which  he  regards  as  '  a 
binary  compound  of  disgust  and  positive  self- 
feeling,  differing  from  scorn  in  the  absence  of  the 
element  of  anger.'  In  ordinary  usage,  however, 
scorn  (q.v.)  and  contempt  are  used  interchange- 
ably ;  and,  while  some  kinds  of  contempt  are 
notably  free  from  anger  and  suggest  serene  self- 
esteem,  e.g.  the  attitude  of  the  educated  towards 
the  illiterate,  there  are  other  forms  in  which  one 
may  detect  the  element  of  indignation,  e.g.  the 
loathing  which  a  noble  mind  feels  towards  a  cruel 
or  ignoble  deed.     In  Shakespeare's  Twelfth  Night, 

III.  i.  157  f. ,  Olivia  remarks : 


'  O,  what  a  deal  of  scorn  looks  beautiful 
In  the  contempt  and  anger  of  his  lip  ! ' 

where  obviously  contempt  is  regarded  as  of  close 
kinship  with  anger. 

Disgust,  aversion,  and  shrinking  from  an  object 
are  undoubtedly  marked  features  of  contempt ; 
sometimes  this  is  accompanied  by  facial  and  other 
physical  reaction,  sometimes  it  is  merely  intel- 
lectual, as  when  Horace  remarks  :  '  Odi  profanum 
vulgus  et  arceo '  (Od.  m.  i.  1).  While,  then,  we  can 
distinguish  the  main  elements  which  make  up 
the  emotion  of  contempt,  its  quality  is  capable 
of  multitudinous  subtle  gradations  and  internal 
shadings,  corresponding  with  the  objects  and 
situations  which  call  it  forth. 

3.  Ethics. — (1)  In  the  OT. — Contempt,  as  an 
emotion  which,  like  anger,  finds  expression  in 
word  and  deed,  or  as  part  of  a  mental  condition, 
naturally  passes  into  the  sphere  of  ethical  judg- 
ment. It  is  an  element  in  the  character  of  the 
Psalmist's  God,  as  when  he  says,  '  The  Lord  shall 
have  them  in  derision'  (Ps  24,  referring  to  the 
rebellion  of  His  disaffected  subjects ;  so  of  the 
heathen,  Ps  59°).  In  both  passages  the  conception 
of  contempt  is  associated  with  laughter.  Such 
graphic  anthropomorphism  is  not  obsolete :  e.g. 
R.  Browning's  lines, 

* .  .  .  Happy  that  I  can 
Be  crossed  and  thwarted  as  a  man, 
Not  left  in  God's  contempt  apart  .  . 

{Easter-Day,  xxxiil.), 

where  a  failure  of  ideal  is  associated  with  the  sense 
of  Divine  rejection  and  wrath.  The  monotheistic 
contempt  for  idol-making  and  idolatry  (cf .  Is  40lst ) 
in  prophetic  literature  is  an  expression  of  the 
belief  in  God's  unique  and  unapproachable  right- 
eousness. In  the  OT,  especially  in  the  Wisdom 
literature,  the  '  scorner,'  or  contemptuous  man, 
(f|?)  is  a  familiar  figure.  He  not  only  does  evil, 
but  scoffs  at  the  good  (Ps  l1),  seeks  wisdom  and 
finds  it  not  (Pr  146),  dislikes  reproof  (1512),  is  an 
abomination  (249),  and  is  punished  (2111,  Is  2920). 
The  '  scorner,'  in  fact,  belongs  to  the  class  '  fool,' 
which  is  so  conspicuous  in  the  teaching  of  Pro- 
verbs :  the  fool  despises  wisdom  (Pr  1'),  his  neigh- 
bour (14s1),  and  the  duty  of  obedience  to  parents 
(3017).  Esau's  despising  of  his  birthright  (Gn  25s4) 
was  the  indication  of  'profanity'  (He  1216)  or 
spiritual  apathy,  in  the  same  way  that  Israel's 
contempt  for  Jahweh's  statutes  and  judgments 
(Lv  2616-  *3,  Ezk  2013- 16-  M,  Am  24)  or  for  '  the  word 
of  the  Holy  One '  (Is  5M)  was  the  sign  of  an  evil 
heart.  Objectively,  national  failure  brings  a 
nemesis  of  derision  (Jer  4826,-S9),  or  such  derision 
may  be  an  element  of  persecution  (207,  La  314). 

(2)  In  the  NT. — We  have  already  cited  the 
passage  (Mt  5s2)  where  Jesus  deals  with  the  con- 
temptuous terms  'Raca'  and  'Thou  fool,'  and 
condemns  them  on  the  ground  that  they  indicate 
a  defective  disposition  of  the  heart  and  are  there- 
fore to  be  judged  under  the  new  law  before  the 
same  tribunals  and  punished  by  the  same  penalties 
as  were  offences,  like  homicide,  under  the  old  dis- 
pensation. Thus,  our  Lord's  treatment  of  con- 
tempt is  in  harmony  with  the  principles  of  His 
general  ethical  teaching.  Moreover,  so  far  as 
contempt  was  an  anti-social  sentiment  and  op- 
posed to  the  recognition  of  the  claims  of  a  common 
humanity,  the  law  of  compassion,  and  the  sense 
of  the  infinite  dignity  of  the  individual  soul,  it 
was  to  be  sternly  repressed.  '  Take  heed  that  ye 
despise  not  one  of  these  little  ones'  (1810),  i.e.  the 
humble  and  helpless  of  humanity.  The  idea  of 
scornful  rejection  of  the  truth  is  contained  in  the 
warning,  '  He  that  rejecteth  (dfleruv)  you  rejecteth 
me '  (Lk  1016).  Jesus  thought  of  the  Pharisees  as 
those  that  '  trusted  in  themselves  that  they  were 
righteous,  and  despised  UZovSevovvras)  others'  (189). 


CONTENTMENT 


85 


He  did  not  hesitate  to  use  the  language  of  con- 
tempt respecting  the  unreality  of  Pharisaic  morals 
on  the  ground  '  that  their  whole  life  was  an  acted 
play,'  and  that  their  zeal  for  righteousness  was 
unwarmed  by  love  for  their  brothers,  for  men  as 
such  ;  nor  did  He  scruple  to  use  the  term  '  that 
fox '  (13s2)  of  Herod  Antipas  as  summing  up  his 
moral  cowardice  and  cunning.  But  contempt  of 
man  for  man,  of  class  for  class,  the  disparagement 
of  lowly  conditions,  even  of  sinners  (as  opposed  to 
their  sins),  is  ruled  out  by  the  example  and  teach- 
ing of  Christ.  Christ's  view  of  man  was  '  a  trans- 
valuation  of  all  values.'  The  first  promise  of  the 
changed  view  of  humanity  is  given  in  the  Magni- 
ficat, '  He  hath  exalted  them  of  low  degree'  (l*2). 

The  Greek  contempt  for  humility,  the  arrogance 
(inre;rn<j)avla)  which  Theophrastus  (Characters,  §  iv.) 
defined  as  '  a  certain  scorn  for  all  the  world  beside 
oneself,'  was  excluded  for  ever  from  the  higher 
ethics  of  Christianity.  Evolutionary  ethics,  of 
which  the  extreme  is  reached  in  the  thought  of 
Nietzsche,  still  glorifies  brute  strength  and  satir- 
izes the  '  slave- morality '  of  the  crowd,  but  the 
'  super-man '  who  alone  will  be  tolerated  by  the 
world  is  not  the  embodiment  of  strength,  physical 
and  intellectual,  but  the  embodiment  of  perfect 
love.  Aristotle's  '  lofty-minded  man  '  looks  down 
upon  others  'justly  (for  he  judges  truly);  but 
most  people  do  so  at  random  '  (Ethics,  iv.  3).  Even 
the  limitation  of  the  parenthesis,  however,  fails  to 
convince  us  ;  for  in  the  same  context  we  are  told 
that  '  he  is  not  lavish  of  praise  :  for  this  reason 
he  speaks  no  evil,  not  even  of  his  enemies,  unless 
it  be  to  show  his  scorn.'  Contrast  this  with  Christ's 
teaching,  which  enjoins  the  love  of  one's  enemies 
and  exalts  meekness.  The  noblest  character  of 
ancient  teaching  '  walks,  like  contempt,  alone ' 
(Timon  of  Athens,  TV.  ii.  15),  and  views  his  fellows 
(to  quote  Shakespeare  again)  through  the  '  scorn- 
ful perspective'  which  contempt  lends  him  (All  's 
Well,  V.  iii.  48).  He  is  quite  oblivious  of  the 
claims  of  human  brotherhood.  In  fact,  his  snob- 
bery is  hardly  distinguishable  from  that  satirized 
by  Thackeray,  and  is  equally  out  of  harmony  with 
the  Christian  spirit.  Pride  of  birth,  intellect,  and 
dominion  is  by  Dante  (Purg.  x.  xi.  xii. )  consigned 
to  the  first  terrace  of  purgatory,  from  which  the 
poet  is  escorted  by  the  angel  of  Humility  to  the 
sound  of  celestial  voices,  singing,  '  Blessed  are  the 
poor  in  spirit '  (xii.  3  ff. ). 

The  haughtiness  which  despises  its  inferiors, 
whether  it  take  the  form  of  reserve  (elpwvela)  or 
of  active  scorn  (C/3pis),  is  as  incompatible  with  the 
humanitarian  ideal  of  Christianity  as  the  institu- 
tion of  slavery.  The  treatment  of  any  human 
being  as  a  chattel  or  instrument  is  no  longer 
tolerable.  'Base  things  of  the  world  and  things 
that  are  despised  did  God  choose '  (1  Co  l28).  The 
scorn  of  the  man  of  the  world  for  piety  is  an 
index  of  an  oblique  moral  vision  (cf.  the  Master  of 
Ballantrae's  contempt  for  his  steward's  strict  and 
puritanical  notions  ['my  evangelist,'  he  calls  him 
ironically]  in  Stevenson's  Master  of  Ballantrae). 
St.  Paul  warns  the  Thessalonians  (1  Th  520)  against 
contempt  of  '  prophesyings,'  implying  that  mani- 
festations of  the  Spirit  nave  to  be  judged  with 
careful  discrimination,  and  that  they  are  not  to 
be  distrusted  because  fanaticism  or  unreality  ac- 
companies them  in  particular  instances.  Con- 
tempt is  often  a  form  of  bigotry,  and  the  symptom 
of  defective  charity  or  tolerance  ;  and  not  seldom 
it  is  implicit  in  a  cold  rationalism  or  in  the  ma- 
terialism which  rejects  immortality  and  religion. 
On  the  other  hand,  to  be  despised  by  the  general 
conscience  is  no  mean  punishment.  '  Let  no  man 
despise  thy  youth  '  (1  Ti  412),  or  '  Let  no  man 
despise  thee '  (Tit  215),  is  a  summons  to  the  culti- 
vation of  moral  dignity,  which  at  all  stages  of  our 


life,  and  not  in  youth  alone,  is  the  fine  flower  of  a 
Christian  personality.  If,  on  the  one  hand,  con- 
tempt is  opposed  to  humility,  reverence,  compas- 
sion, and  love,  it  is,  on  the  other  hand,  a  legitimate 
element  of  the  moral  indignation  of  which  the 
Pounder  of  Christianity  is  the  noblest  exemplar. 

Literature. — W.  MacDougall,  Introduction  to  Social  Psy- 
chology, London,  1908,  p.  135  ;  F.  Paulsen,  System  of  Ethics, 
Eng.  tr.,  London,  1899,  p.  677  ;  T.  H.  Green,  Prolegomena  to 
Ethics^,  Oxford,  1890,  pp.  295-306,  for  contrast  of  Christian  and 
Greek  ideal,  and  p.  224  ff.  for  the  humanitarian  idea  ;  J.  S. 
Mackenzie, .Manual  of  Ethics  3,  London,  1897,  p.  196 II.;  H.  W. 
Clark,  Christian  Method  of  Ethics,  London,  1908,  ch.  vii.; 
Theophrastus,  Characters,  ed.  J.  E.  Sandys,  London,  1909, 
with  note  on  §  iv.;  Aristotle,  Ethics,  ed.  A.  Grant,  London, 
1857,  vol.  ii.  p.  72 ff.;  J.  R.  Seeley,  Ecce  Homo,  London,  1866, 

oh.  xxi.  r.  Martin  Pope. 

CONTENTMENT.— Contentment— the  con- 
dition of  being  satisfied — is  a  state  of  mind  which 
may  be  regarded  as  a  purely  ethical  product,  or  as 
a  phase  of  religious  experience.  In  the  philosophy 
of  life  we  are  able  to  differentiate  three  types  of 
contentment :  Oriental,  Grseco-Roman,  and  Chris- 
tian ;  and  we  propose  to  treat  the  subject  under 
these  heads.  Koyce,  in  his  Outlines  of  Psychology 
(1903),  has  classified  emotions  under  two  dimen- 
sions, namely,  restlessness  and  quiescence.  If  this 
classification  be  accepted,  it  is  obvious  that  the 
virtue  of  contentment  gathers  up  into  one  experi- 
ence the  emotions  of  the  quiescent  order. 

I.  Oriental. — The  essential  element  in  the 
Oriental  scheme  of  life  is  the  suppression  of  desire. 
This  is  common  to  Brahmanism  and  Buddhism. 
Barth  (Religions  of  India,  Eng.  tr.  1882,  p.  84)  has 
remarked  that  the  Hindu  mind  recognizes  '  no 
medium  between  mental  excitement  and  torpid 
indifference.'  Pantheism,  fatalism,  the  denial  of 
personality  and  of  any  real  immortality  but  that 
of  the  act— these  impress  upon  all  that  the  Oriental 
produces  '  a  certain  monotonous  character  com- 
pounded of  satiety  and  ungratified  zeal.'  So  far 
as  we  can  arrive  at  any  conception  of  nirvana,  we 
may  think  of  it  as  the  serenity  of  the  monk, 
exempt  from  all  desire,  contemplating  without 
passion  all  that  the  average  man  holds  dear — love 
and  hate,  power  and  oppression,  riches  and  poverty, 
fame  and  contempt — and  awaiting  with  complete 
ataraxia  the  advent  of  death.  The  nirvana-on- 
earth  reached  by  the  arhat  is  a  pledge  of  the 
furwxma-after-death,  his  '  refreshment  from  the 
fire  of  passion '  being  the  earnest  of  his  '  refresh- 
ment from  the  fire  of  existence '  (cf.  Poussin, 
Bouddhisme,  p.  103  [Buddhism,  p.  14]).  Some  ex- 
ponents of  Buddhism  point  out  that,  while  nirvana 
is  negatively  the  destruction  of  selfish  desire  and 
ignorance,  it  is  positively  universal  sympathy  or 
love  for  all  beings.  Cf.  '  A  Vow  of  the  Bodhi- 
sattva  '  (Suzuki,  Outlines  of  Mahayana  Buddhism, 
p.  398) : 
'For  the  sake  of  all  sentient  beings  on  earth, 

I  aspire  for  the  abode  of  enlightenment  which  is  most  high  ; 

In  all-embracing  love  awakened,  and  with  a  heart  steadily 
firm. 

Even  my  life  I  will  sacrifice,  dear  as  it  is. 

In  enlightenment  no  sorrows  are  found,  no  burning  desires  ; 

Tis  enjoyed  by  all  men  who  are  wise. 

All  sentient  creatures  from  the  turbulent  waters  of  the  triple 
world 

I'll  release,  and  to  eternal  peace  them  I'll  lead.' 
When  it  is  objected  that  contentment  can  find 
no  place  in  a  scheme  of  life  in  which  karma,  or  the 
law  of  moral  causation,  prevails,  the  reply  is  made 
that  the  selfishness  of  the  rich  will  bear  inevitable 
retribution  in  a  future  existence,  while  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  poor,  if  the  poor  do  not  despair  of  them 
and  yield  to  temptation,  will  bring  them  a  future 
fortune.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  argued  that 
human  inequalities  are  not  to  be  ascribed  to  the 
diversity  of  the  individual  karma  (Suzuki,  op.  cit. 
p.  189  f.).  Poverty  is  not  the  result  of  evil  deeds. 
The  economic  sphere  is  not  that  in  which  the  law 


86 


CONTENTMENT 


of  karma  operates.  If  a  man  lives  in  obscurity 
and  misery,  he  is  not  concerned  to  find  the  explana- 
tion of  these  things  in  the  past,  nor  is  he  anxious 
about  the  future.  Social  injustices  and  economic 
inequalities  are  inevitable  in  the  present  order. 

'  A  virtuous  man  is  contented  with  his  cleanliness  of  con- 
science and  purity  of  heart.  ...  In  point  of  fact,  what  proceeds 
from  meritorious  deeds  is  spiritual  bliss  only, — contentment, 
tranquillity  of  mind,  meekness  of  heart,  and  immovability  of 
faith  '(t&.  p.  190  f.). 

Again,  the  true  conception  of  karma  is  not  merely 
individualistic ;  that  is,  it  is  not  true  that  our 
deeds  affect  only  our  own  fate.     These  deeds 

'  leave  permanent  effects  on  the  general  system  of  sentient 
beings,  of  which  the  actor  is  merely  a  component  part ;  and  it 
is  not  the  actor  himself  only,  but  everybody  constituting  a 
grand  psychic  community  called  "  Dharmadhatu  "  (spiritual 
universe),  that  suffers  or  enjoys  the  outcome  of  a  moral  deed ' 
(».  p.  192  f.). 

In  this  way  the  inherent  contradictions  of  the 
Buddhist  view  of  life  are  modernized  by  an  enthu- 
siastic exponent;  nevertheless,  the  denial  of  a 
Supreme  Being  and  of  personal  immortality  leaves 
us  with  a  scheme  of  life  so  mechanical  and  cold 
that  contentment  becomes  merely  a  fatalistic  joy- 
less acceptance  of  things  as  they  are.  Granting 
the  admirable  and  even  noble  idealism  of  the 
Oriental,  we  miss  the  cheerfulness  of  the  Christian 
saint  who  rests  in  the  belief  that  a  Universal  Love 
dwells  at  the  heart  of  creation  and  *  sweetly  orders 
all  that  is.'  Moreover,  the  ideal  of  contentment 
proclaimed  by  Buddhism  is  remote  from  life  :  it  is 
too  abstract  and  academic  ;  it  is  the  offspring  of 
the  cloister,  and  consequently  eclectic  and  esoteric. 
Even  when  it  glorifies  compassion  and  charity,  it 
loses  itself  in  vagueness,  and,  except  in  some  rare 
passages  of  the  teaching  of  Sakyamuni,  proclaims 
a  universal  benevolence  rather  than  specific  acts  of 
sympathy.  If  love  be  'the  fulfilling  of  the  law' 
and  the  condition  of  true  contentment,  it  has  no 
real  place  in  a  philosophy  which  denies  the  reality 
of  the  ego,  or  in  a  religion  in  which  saintliness  is 
synonymous  with  impassibility. 

At  the  same  time,  it  is  but  just  to  remember 
that,  whatever  its  stress  on  extreme  renunciation 
of  all  the  joys  of  life  may  have  been,  Brahmanism 
was  far  more  human  in  its  concept  of  contentment 
than  was  Buddhism.  Thus  the  Mahabharata  (iii. 
92,  xii.  12502)  can  say  that  'no  end  is  there  of 
greed  [lit.  "of  thirst"],  (but)  contentment  is  the 
highest  good '  (santosah  paramam  sukham),  or  we 
may  read  in  the  collection  of  quatrains  attributed 
to  Bhartrhari :  '  Poor  be  he  whose  greed  is  great ; 
if  the  mind  be  content,  who  is  rich  (or)  who  is 
poor  ? ' 

2.  Graeco-Roman. — While  in  Eastern  thought 
the  extinction  of  desire  is  the  summum  bonum  of 
the  ethical  or  religious  life,  a  quite  different  idea 
of  personality  was  held  by  the  thinkers  of  Greece. 
They  were  frankly  humanistic  in  their  outlook. 
The  glory  and  power,  the  gifts  and  virtues,  of  the 
individual  life,  the  supremacy  of  reason  and 
wisdom,  and  the  harmony  and  perfectibility  of  the 
soul  were  cardinal  points  in  their  system.  We 
begin  with  the  Socratic  identification  of  virtue  and 
knowledge.  For  a  man  to  know  what  he  is  doing 
and  why — in  a  word,  wisdom — this  is  his  supreme 
possession.  Without  claiming  to  have  discovered 
an  abstract  theory  of  the  Good  or  the  Wise,  and 
while  on  the  whole  sceptical  as  to  the  possibility 
of  such  a  discovery,  Socrates  provisionally  con- 
ceived of  the  Good  or  the  Wise  as  the  faithful 
performance  of  the  customary  duties  of  life,  and 
proclaimed  that  therein  lay  the  secret  of  happiness. 
But  what  impressed  his  contemporaries  was  his 
independence  of  judgment  and  fearless  criticism  of 
conventional  notions,  rather  than  his  love  of  know- 
ledge. The  result  was  the  appearance  of  two 
opposing  schools  of  thought — the  Cynics,  of  whom 
Antisthenes  and  Diogenes  were  the  notable  figures, 


and  the  Cyrenaics,  of  whom  Aristippus  was  the 
head.  The  watchword  of  the  first  was  self- 
mastery — the  practice  of  endurance  and  asceticism ; 
that  of  the  second,  pleasure — the  serene  and  un- 
troubled pursuit  of  the  pleasure  of  the  moment, 
regardless  of  consequences.  Neither  to  Plato  nor 
to  Aristotle  was  the  practical  conduct  of  life  of 
such  moment  as  the  pursuit  of  truth  and  the  ideal 
interpretation  of  the  universe.  With  the  advent 
of  the  Hellenistic  period,  about  300  B.C.,  the 
interest  of  the  State  or  community  became  sub- 
ordinated to  that  of  the  individual.  The  realism 
of  Cynic  and  Cyrenaic  was  succeeded  by  the  systems 
of  Zeno  and  Epicurus,  in  which  once  more  '  ethics 
is  the  end  and  goal ;  and  an  ethic,  moreover, 
which  looks  only  to  the  interest  of  the  individual.' 
To  Stoics  and  Epicureans  the  supreme  interest  is 
the  possession  of  individual  independence,  the 
saving  of  one's  own  soul,  and  the  ordering  of  life 
nobly  and  happily.  The  Epicurean  doctrine  (see 
Epicueeans)  was  far  from  being  a  mere  glori- 
fication of  voluptuousness  and  immoral  living. 
The  picture  given  by  Seneca  of  the  Epicurean 
garden  leaves  on  us  the  impression  of  a  life  of 
frugality  and  leisure — 'plain  living  and  high 
thinking.'  The  pleasure  which  Epicureanism  re- 
garded as  the  end  of  existence  was  not  mere 
sensuality ;  it  rather  consisted,  in  its  finer  forms, 
of  freedom  from  pain  or  disturbing  elements  (dra- 
paS-la).  The  pleasures  of  mind  were  nobler  than 
those  of  body.  It  is  not  material  enjoyments  that 
are  the  givers  of  pleasure ;  '  it  is  sober  reasoning,' 
says  Epicurus  in  his  letter  to  Menoeceus,'  '  search- 
ing out  the  reasons  for  every  choice  and  avoidance, 
and  banishing  those  beliefs  through  which  the 
greatest  tumults  take  possession  of  the  soul.' 
Another  word  that  sums  up  the  contented  life  is 
airr&pKeia  ('self-sufficiency'),  which  was  afterwards 
to  be  used  in  Christian  ethics.  '  We  consider  self- 
sufficiency  a  great  good  in  order  that,  if  we  do  not 
possess  much,  we  may  be  satisfied  with  little ' 
(Diog.  Laert.  x.  130  on  Epic).  Nowhere  do  we 
find  the  spirit  of  Epicurean  contentment  so  charm- 
ingly expressed  as  in  the  odes  of  Horace,  the  poet 
who,  enamoured  of  his  Sabine  farm  ('  satis  beatus 
unicis  Sabinis,'  Odes,  II.  xviii.  14)  far  from  the 
haunts  and  din  of  city  life,  urges  his  friends  to 
'sweet  content'  ('desiderantem  quod  satis  est,' 
Odes,  III.  i.  25),  to  calmness  of  outlook  ('quid  sit 
futurum  eras  fuge  quaerere,'  Odes,  I.  ix.  12)  or  to 
patient  endurance : 

1  Aequam  memento  rebus  in  arduis 

servarementem*  (Odes,  n.  iii.  if. ). 

In  such  phrases  we  discover  the  fascination  of  the 
Epicurean  ideal  'of  withdrawing  from  political 
and  dialectical  conflict  to  simple  living  and  serene 
leisure,  in  imitation  of  the  eternal  leisure  of  the 
gods  apart  from  the  fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms 
that  we  call  a  world'  (H.  Sidgwick,  'Ethics,' 
EBr»). 

The  Stoic  conception  of  contentment  may  be 
summed  up  in  the  word  aw&deia  ('impassivity'). 
The  Stoic  sage  did  not,  like  an  Oriental  yogi, 
regard  all  phenomena  as  illusions ;  nor  did  his 
essentially  Pantheistic  view  of  the  universe  destroy 
his  sense  of  personal  freedom  and  volition.  Man 
can  enter,  by  virtue  of  his  gift  of  reason,  into 
relationship  with  the  Eternal  reason.  His  one 
aim,  indeed,  is  to  live  a  life  of  reason,  or,  as  the 
Stoic  phrased  it,  a  life  'in  conformity  with  Nature.' 
Such  a  life  is  the  true  virtue,  and  is  its  own 
reward,  quite  apart  from  external  goods  or  advan- 
tages. The  average  man  conceives  of  pain,  sick- 
ness, and  death  as  evils ;  to  the  sage  living  the 
life  of  reason  they  are  merely  '  indifferent. '  Human 
passions  are  only  diseases  of  the  reason.  The  sage 
'  will  strive  to  keep  the  mastery  over  such  faulty 
fancies,  and  be  true  to  the  consummate  virtue, 


CONTINGENCY 


87 


which  is  passionless  and  calm.'  Such  is  the  Stoic 
apathy. 

'  It  postulated,'  says  Capes  (Stoicism,  p.  49),  '  not  only  the 
absolute  supremacy  of  reason,  but  its  rightful  claims  to  be  the 
only  motive  force  within  the  soul,  for  it  would  make  a  solitude 
of  all  besides  and  call  it  peace ;  but  it  implied  no  torpor  of 
ecstatic  reveries  and  mystic  contemplation,  such  as  those 
which  Eastern  ascetics  have  enjoyed,  in  their  attempts  to  close 
every  pore  and  inlet  of  emotion,  and  to  end  almost  in  pure 
nothingness  of  individual  being.' 

This  type  of  contentment  is  illustrated  passim  in  the 
writings  of  the  Koman  Stoics — Seneca,  Epictetus 
(see  esp.  the  latter's  chapter  on  '  Contentment,' 
Diss.  i.  12  [Long's  tr.])— and  also  in  the  Thoughts 
of  Marcus  Aurelius  (cf.  esp.  bk.  viii.). 

3.  Christian. — Before  considering  the  Christian 
ideal  of  contentment,  with  which  the  Stoic  found 
itself  confronted  in  the  early  ages  of  Christianity, 
we  may  glance  for  a  moment  at  the  OT.  The  pure 
monotheism  of  the  Hebrew  saint  and  his  unswerv- 
ing belief  in  a  Divine  Providence  shaped  for  him 
an  experience  widely  different  from  those  which 
we  have  considered  above.  The  possession  of  God 
is  his  true  wealth.  '  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd ; 
I  shall  not  want'  (Ps  23]).  Sadness,  pain,  exile, 
loss  of  wealth  and  property,  drought  and  disease, 
were  nought  compared  with  his  unshaken  sense  of 
God's  presence  and  reality.  Cf.  the  magnificent 
psalm  of  cheerful  submission  in  Hab  317"19,  which 
Cowper  has  reproduced  in  the  well-known  hymn, 
Sometimes  a  light  surprises,  or  the  memorable  cry 
of  resignation,  '  The  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord  hath 
taken  away ;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord ' 
(Job  l21).  In  the  Wisdom  books  we  find  happiness 
associated  closely  with  a  common-sense  view  of 
life's  limitations  ;  e.g.  Pr  1517  171  191  etc.,  or,  more 
nobly,  with  the  possession  of  wisdom  (Pr  313'19). 
So  far  as  the  Prophetic  writings  are  concerned,  a 
clear  apprehension  of  evils,  social  and  political,  a 
remorseless  unveiling  of  injustice  and  oppression, 
and  fierce  invectives  against  idolatry,  meaningless 
ritual,  and  false  materialism,  are  combined  with 
unswerving  faith  in  the  Divine  guidance  and  in 
the  ultimate  victory  of  the  Divine  righteousness. 
The  panic-stricken  despair  of  the  materialist  is 
nobly  contrasted  with  the  calm  of  the  monotheist 
in  Is  3016ff-  (cf.  art.  'Contentment'  in  HDB). 
Generally  speaking,  in  the  writers  of  the  OT  con- 
tentment is  the  fruit  of  faith. 

In  the  NT  the  same  association  of  contentment 
with  belief  in  God  is  evidenced  in  the  teaching  of 
our  Lord.  The  new  feature  is  the  sublime  con- 
ception of  God's  Fatherhood.  It  is  the  Father- 
hood of  God  which  points  Christ's  warning  against 
anxiety  and  adds  an  immortal  beauty  to  the  words 
in  Mt.  624"1*4.  Christ  does  not  proclaim  insensibility 
to  the  ills  of  life.  He  recognizes  them,  but  calls 
upon  us  to  live  as  children,  to  believe  that  God 
cares  for  us,  and  perfectly  to  trust  the  love,  the 
wisdom,  and  the  power  of  our  Heavenly  Father. 
This  conception  dominates  the  whole  of  His  teach- 
ing. He  uttered  warnings  against  the  love  of 
wealth  (Mt  619),  against  self-seeking  (Mk  10*>), 
against  social  discontent  (Lk  1213"15),1  and  against 
selfish  slothfulness  (Mt  2524-28).  The  last  passage 
shows  that  Christ  condemned  inertia,  while  He 
praised  activity  when  its  end  was  not  selfish  but 
'  the  Kingdom  of  heaven.'  It  was  no  part  of  His 
plan  to  encourage  agitation  against  social  and 
political  evils,  or  against  public  institutions  which 
were  inimical  to  the  highest  interests  of  humanity; 
but  He  proclaimed  the  positive  conception  of  the 
Kingdom  of  heaven,  as  an  ideal  of  human  life 
wherein  the  interest  of  the  individual  became  one 
with  the  interest  of  the  community ;  in  other  words, 
a  corporate  righteousness,  the  foundation  of  which 
was  love  binding  individuals  and  classes  together. 
The  Christian   conception  of  contentment  never 

1  Cf.  Paulsen,  System  of  Ethics,  p.  491,  for  relation  of  con- 
tentment to  covetousness. 


makes  resignation  to  life's  limitations  and  ills  a 
mere  passive  attitude  of  the  soul ;  submission  to 
God's  will  in  life  and  death  is  an  energy  or  act  of 
a  sanctified  will.  Such  it  was  in  our  Lord's 
acceptance  of  the  cross  as  the  will  of  His  Father. 
Dante's  words  {Par.  iii.  85),  e  la  sua  volontate  £ 
nostra  pace  (see  the  wonderful  exposition  of  these 
words  in  Morley's  Life  of  Gladstone,  i.  215),  give 
the  secret  of  Christian  calm. 

It  is  also  to  be  noted  that  contentment  in  the 
NT  is  closely  associated  with  the  truth  of  immor- 
tality. St.  Paul  can  cheerfully  bear  '  the  sufferings 
of  this  present  time '  as  '  not  worthy  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  glory  which  shall  be  revealed  in  us ' 
(Ro  818).  And  it  is  this  belief  that  differentiates 
his  aiT&pKeia  ('self-sufficiency')  from  that  of  the 
Epicurean.  '  His  steadfast  equanimity  does  not 
spring  from  contemplation  of  the  great  negative 
that  life  must  soon  end,  but  from  the  great  positive 
that  true  life  has  no  end '  (Medley,  Interpretations 
of  Horace,  1910,  p.  58,  and  cf.  Lucretius,  v.  1117  f., 
'  Quod  si  quis  vera  vitam  ratione  gubernet, 

divitiae  grandes  homini  sunt,  vivere  parce 

aequo  ammo '). 

Moreover,  if,  as  Lightfoot  suggested,  there  was  a 
reference  in  St.  Paul's  epistles  to  the  Stoic  ideal  of 
the  sage  and  citizen  of  the  world  as  alone  possessing 
absolute  wealth  and  freedom,  that  ideal  is  trans- 
figured in  the  Christian  experience.  '  Already  are 
ye  filled,  already  ye  are  become  rich,  ye  have 
reigned  without  us.  We  are  fools  for  Christ's 
sake,  but  ye  are  wise  in  Christ ;  we  are  weak,  but 
ye  are  strong ;  ye  have  glory,  but  we  have  dis- 
honour' (1  Co  48- 10).  Cf.  also  the  passage  in  2  Co 
610  '  as  sorrowful,  yet  alway  rejoicing ;  as  poor, 
yet  making  many  rich ;  as  having  nothing,  and 
yet  possessing  all  things.'  St.  Paul's  sublime 
inner  resources,  as  being  one  with  Christ  and  the 
sharer  of  His  crucified  and  risen  life,  render  him 
independent  of  outward  conditions— 'in  everything 
at  every  time  having  every  self-sufficiency  ...  in 
everything  enriched  '  (2  Co  98- u) ;  and  hnally,  '  I 
have  learnt  in  whatsoever  circumstances  I  am  to  be 
self-sufficing  ...  I  have  all  strength  in  Him  that 
giveth  me  power  ...  I  have  all  things  to  the  full 
and  to  overflowing '  (Ph  411- 13, 18).  The  Stoic  attains 
his  universal  kingship  '  by  self-isolation  :  the  other 
by  incorporation  '  (Lightfoot,  Philippians,  p.  305). 
'  Godliness  with  contentment  (avrapudas)  is  great 
gain  '  (1  Ti  66) — thus  does  the  Apostle  sum  up  the 
wealth  of  the  Christian  saint.  Heroism,  patience, 
courage,  endurance,  whether  we  look  for  them  in 
the  annals  of  persecution  and  martyrdom,  or  in 
the  daily  round  of  common  life  with  its  constant 
cares  and  trials,  may  be  regarded  as  the  fruits  of 
contentment,  the  airapKeta  which  inhabits  what 
Wordsworth  calls  the 

4  central  calm  subsisting  at  the  heart 
Of  endless  agitation.' 
Literature. — For  the  Oriental  aspects  of  the  subject  two 
recent  volumes,  written  from  quite  opposite  points  of  view, 
may  be  consulted :  L.  de  la  Valine  Poussin,  Bouddhisme : 
Opinions  sur  I'histoire  de  la  dogmatique  (Paris,  1909),  and  D.  T. 
Suzuki,  Outlines  of  Mahdydna  Buddhism  (London,  1907).  Of 
the  former  there  is  a  concise  summary  iD  English  :  Buddhism, 
a  tr.  published  by  the  C.T.S.  in  the  series  Lectures  on  the 
History  of  Religions.  Besides  works  quoted  there  are  also  to 
be  named :  W.  W.  Capes,  Stoicism  (Lond.  1S80) ;  W.  L, 
Davidson,  The  Stoic  Creed  (Edin.  1907) ;  W.  Wallace,  Epicur- 
eanism (Lond.  1880) ;  R.  W.  Dale,  Laws  of  Christ  for  Com. 
Life  (Lond.  1885),  p.  157  f. ;  F.  Paulsen,  Syst.  of  Ethics  (Eng. 
tr.,  Lond.  1899),  pp.  491  and  603  ;  H.  Sidgwlck,  art.  'Ethics,' 
In  EBrV  and  Outlines  of  Hist,  of  Ethics,  Lond.  1886  (where 
EBr  art.  is  considerably  altered  and  enlarged) ;  J.  B.  Light- 
foot, Philippians*,  Lond.  1878  (Essay  on  St.  Paul  and  Seneca). 

R.  Martin  Popk. 
CONTINGENCY. — The  term  contingentia,  as 
applied  to  that  which  is  actual  and  accidental  in 
contrast  to  that  which  is  logically  necessary  and  in 
accordance  with  law,  originated  with  the  School- 
men. The  idea  involved  goes  back,  however,  to 
the  problems  of  Greek  philosophy.     The  thinkera 


88 


CONTINGENCY 


of  Greece,  once  they  had  discovered  the  significance 
of  general  conceptions,  and  of  the  order  of  things 
typified  thereby,  came  to  distinguish  between  the 
world  which  moves  in  accordance  with  these  con- 
ceptions and  that  which  is  not  wholly  determined 
by  them.  The  former,  at  this  stage  of  thought, 
was  identified  with  the  sphere  of  the  heavenly 
bodies,  the  latter  with  the  sublunary  world,  where 
the  rigid  sway  of  law — the  authority  of  form  and 
conception — was  circumscribed  by  accident  and 
anomaly.  It  was  only  upon  a  basis  of  materialism 
that  Democritus  was  able  to  trace  a  rational  order 
throughout  the  entire  universe,  while  Heraclitus, 
the  Eleatics,  and  the  Stoics  did  the  same  only  in 
virtue  of  their  pantheistic  principles.  The  philo- 
sophy of  the  Church,  on  its  metaphysical  side, 
attached  itself,  not  to  the  two  last-named  schools, 
but  to  Aristotle  and  the  Neo-Platonists.  In  this 
way  it  also  took  over  the  idea  of  '  contingency ' ; 
and  accordingly  we  find  it  urging,  now,  with  Aris- 
totle, the  imperfection  of  the  lower  sphere,  and 
now,  with  Neo-Platonism,  the  disorganization  of 
the  pure  Idea  by  matter  and  sense.  In  the  ecclesi- 
astical philosophy,  moreover,  the  term  *  contin- 
gency '  acquired  a  new  meaning  from  its  connexion 
with  Judaeo-Christian  Theism.  It  was  now  used  to 
express  the  volitional  nature  of  the  Creator,  who  is 
not  limited  by  universal  laws,  but  actually  reveals 
the  most  profound  elements  of  His  being  in  the 
contingency  of  what  eludes  these  laws.  Thus,  as 
Conceptual  Realism  (universalia  ante  res)  evoked 
counter-movements  of  an  empirical  character,  and 
interest  in  maintaining  the  freedom  of  the  Divine 
will  tended  to  strengthen  them,  there  arose  in 
Scholasticism  various  attempts  to  reconcile  the 
validity  of  the  pure  Idea  with  a  recognition  of  the 
actual — compromises  which  ranged  from  the  spe- 
cifically Aristotelian  systems  to  Mysticism  and 
Nominalism. 

Not  until  the  dawn  of  modern  philosophy  was 
there  a  revival  of  the  pantheism  of  Heraclitus  and 
the  Stoics,  as  represented  in  the  philosophies  of 
Nature  that  sprang  up  with  the  Renaissance  ;  and, 
as  it  came  to  be  recognized,  in  consequence  of  the 
newer  investigation  of  Nature,  that  the  laws  of 
the  sidereal  world  are  identical  with  those  of  the 
lower  sphere,  there  arose  a  fresh  wave  of  pure 
Rationalism  which  excluded  contingency.  Then 
the  mathematico-physical  interpretation  of  the 
world,  with  the  system  of  Spinoza  in  the  forefront, 
made  this  revived  Rationalism  supreme.  All  the 
more  vigorous,  however,  was  the  reaction  of  that 
Empiricism  which,  with  its  insistence  upon  the 
fact  of  contingency,  took  shape  in  the  hands  of 
Locke  and  Hume,  of  Leibniz  and  Kant ;  for,  in 
spite  of  the  fundamental  Rationalism  of  the  latter 
two  thinkers,  the  one  distinguished  between  the 
viritis  de  raison  and  the  viritis  de  fait,  the  other 
between  the  rationality  of  the  categories  and  the 
contingency  of  the  matter  of  experience.  The 
problem  having  thus  been  placed  upon  the  new 
basis  of  a  universal  cosmic  order,  the  Aristotelian 
view  of  contingency  as  confined  to  the  sublunary 
world  was,  of  course,  discarded,  as  was  also  the 
Neo-Platonic  identification  of  contingency  with 
the  irrationality  of  matter  and  sense.  But  contin- 
gency emerged  once  more  in  connexion  with  a 
general  cosmical  movement  in  epistemology  and 
metaphysics,  as  the  term  was  now  used  to  signify 
the  irrational  factor  beside  and  within  the  rational, 
and  as  the  idea  came  into  immediate  touch  with 
the  questions  regarding  the  conception  of  Deity ; 
the  thought  of  a  creative  will  which  acts  without 
motive  was  pitted  against  that  of  a  logical  neces- 
sity by  which  the  world  proceeds  from  the  Idea. 
It  was  in  these  controversies  that  the  full  signifi- 
cance of  the  conception  of  contingency  was  at 
length  realized. 


The  various  aspects  of  the  problem  must  be  con- 
sidered in  detail,  as  follows  : 

i.  The  difference  between  the  universal  and 
necessary  categories  of  thought  and  the  facts 
embraced,  unified,  and  controlled  by  these  cate- 
gories.— The  facts,  as  such,  are  irrational  and  con- 
tingent. We  cannot  comprehend  why  this  or  that 
should  exist ;  and,  even  if  any  particular  thing  be 
rationalized  in  virtue  of  its  derivation  from  another, 
yet  that  other  itself  remains  contingent.  Should 
it  be  affirmed,  however,  that  the  whole  manifold  of 
phenomena  can  logically  be  deduced  from  the  fact 
of  the  world  as  a  whole, — a  consummation  which  as 
yet  is  not  even  remotely  possible,  and  remains  at 
best  a  logical  postulate, — nevertheless,  the  exist- 
ence of  the  world  itself  would  still  remain  irrational 
and  contingent.  The  truly  incomprehensible  thing, 
as  D'Alembert  puts  it,  is  that  anything  should 
exist  at  all.  Here,  in  fact,  we  have  the  reason 
why  metaphysics  must,  in  the  ultimate  resort,  refer 
the  existence  of  the  actual  to  the  arbitrary  fiat  of 
Deity,  precisely  as  was  done  by  Augustine  and  the 
Nominalists,  and,  in  another  form,  by  the  modern 
theories  of  Schelling  and  von  Hartmann.  Yet  even 
so  decided  a  rationalist  as  Descartes  fell  back  upon 
the  same  explanation  of  the  world  as  a  whole. 

2.  The  contingent  elements  in  rational  and 
logical  necessity  itself. — The  so-called  'cosmic 
law,'  '  cosmic  idea,'  and  '  cosmic  unity '  are  never 
more  than  phantasms  of  the  mind,  or  postulates, 
and  are  incapable  of  actual  realization.  The  ob- 
jective fact  is  in  reality  a  number  of  laws  operating 
together,  by  the  simultaneous  application  of  which 
to  the  particular  the  latter  becomes  intelligible. 
But  this  very  plurality  of  laws  makes  the  laws 
themselves  contingent,  alike  in  relation  to  one  an- 
other and  to  the  ideal  of  the  one  supreme  cosmic 
law.  Then  there  is  the  further  difficulty  of  depict- 
ing the  manner  in  which  the  real  is  controlled  by 
the  laws.  If  we  are  not  prepared  to  fall  back  upon 
the  myth  of  Plato's  Ideal  world,  or  of  Scholastic 
Realism, — as  is  instinctively  done  nowadays  by 
most  of  those  who  make  much  of  the  idea  of  law, 
— we  must  interpret  the  laws  of  Nature  as  primarily 
of  subjective  import,  i.e.  as  lending  order,  form, 
and  perspicuity  to  the  facts — an  import  which  is 
undoubtedly  involved  in  the  orderly  nature  of  the 
world,  though  we  cannot  see  how.  This  procedure, 
however,  introduces  an  excessive  degree  of  arbi 
trariness  and  contingency  into  the  idea  of  law. 
And  if  we  seek,  with  the  modern  idealism  of  Kant 
and  Fichte,  to  explain  the  agreement  of  law  with 
reality  on  the  theory  that  the  world  is  generated 
by  consciousness,  yet  the  fact  remains  that  the 
application  of  the  laws  which  regulate  the  world, 
and  are  to  be  regarded  as  forming  an  organized 
unity,  is  in  all  cases  guided  by  some  particular 
interest  of  the  mind  engaged,  and  consequently 
furnishes  a  rationale,  not  of  the  entire  reality,  but 
only  of  that  special  aspect  favoured  by  the  interest 
in  question.  Such  a  selective  and  isolating  pro- 
cedure, however, — and  no  other  is  possible, — also 
involves  an  element  of  contingency. 

3.  The  idea  of  individuality. — Even  if  we  assume 
the  existence  of  a  universal  rational  order,  yet  we 
must  admit  that  every  single  concrete  phenomenon 
found  in  this  network  of  rationality  has  a  certain 
individual  content,  i.e.  it  cannot  be  fully  explained 
by  universal  laws,  but  always  exhibits  some  special 
and  distinct  element  not  derivable  therefrom.  This 
holds  good  alike  of  the  simplest  natural  event  and 
of  the  most  delicate  complex  of  psychical  life.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  the  universe  itself  and  its  develop- 
ment do  not  form  a  particular  case  of  a  general 
conception,  but  are  absolutely  unique.  The  pro- 
blem of  individuation  is  therefore  identical  with 
the  problem  of  contingency  in  its  general  sense. 
The  fact  of  individuality  plays  havoc  with  every 


CONTINUITY 


89 


system  of  thoroughgoing  rationalism,  which  ac- 
cordingly usually  endeavours  to  deny  or  ignore 
the  existence  of  the  particular,  or  to  interpret  it 
as  something  else.  This  is  what  Leibniz  means 
when  he  says  that  Spinoza  would  be  right  if  there 
were  no  monads. 

4.  The  problem  of  the  new. — On  the  principles 
of  a  purely  rational  system,  nothing  new  could  ever 
emerge  in  the  world  of  the  real.  Everything  would 
be  involved  in  the  existence  of  the  whole,  and  there- 
fore eternally  present  therein ;  or  the  apparently 
new  would  be  only  a  phase  and  form  of  forces  always 
present  in  unvarying  quantity.  It  is  clear,  how- 
ever, that  on  either  alternative  the  new  is  got  rid 
of  by  a  mere  evasion.  In  the  first  case,  it  still 
persists  as  something  that  has  emerged  in  the  pro- 
cess of  development,  as  that  which  distinguishes 
the  actual  from  the  potential ;  in  the  second,  as 
appearance  and  manifestation.  A  thoroughgoing 
rationalism  must,  like  the  Eleatic  school,  repudiate 
movement  and  becoming  altogether,  for,  if  it  does 
not,  then  the  admission  that  something  has  come 
into  existence  which  was  not  contained  in  the  ante- 
cedent situation  implies  an  element  of  contingency. 
Hegel,  in  importing  into  the  rationality  of  the  Idea 
the  principles  of  negation  and  transition  to  the 
antithesis,  and  in  basing  metaphysics  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  becoming,  really,  though  surreptitiously, 
provides  a  place  in  his  system  for  the  contingent 
and  irrational.  Metaphysically  expressed,  this 
contingent  element  is  the  idea  of  creation  and 
*  positing,'  which  is  here  applied  to  the  particular 
in  the  same  way  as  to  the  universe  in  §  I  above. 
Epistemologically  expressed,  it  is  the  idea  of  a 
causality  of  non-equivalence,  as  opposed  to  the 
causal  equivalence  with  which  alone  a  consistent 
rationalism  can  be  satisfied.  In  the  causality  of 
equivalence  the  nexus  signifies  identity  of  essence, 
with  a  mere  change  of  form.  In  causal  non- 
equivalence  the  nexus  provides  a  place  for  the 
new.  The  endeavour  to  reduce  all  our  knowledge 
of  causes  to  the  former  category  is  hopeless,  and 
accordingly  an  element  of  contingency  clings  to 
the  conception  of  causality  itself. 

5.  The  connexion  between  contingency  and 
freedom. —Freedom,  in  the  sense  of  self-deter- 
mination by  universal  laws,  and  our  concurrence 
therewith,  as  contrasted  with  the  haphazard  of  a 
purely  psychical  motivation,  involves  per  se  no 
contingency  whatever.  On  the  contrary,  as  de- 
termination by  universal  moral  and  social  law,  it 
forms  the  true  germ  of  the  conception  of  law  in 
general,  which  is  first  of  all  realized  in  the  personal 
sphere,  and  then  transferred  to  the  uniformities  of 
the  world-process.  In  reality,  however,  the  causal 
'must'  of  the  process  of  things,  when  judged  by 
the  absolnte  standard  of  ideal  values,  manifests 
itself  as  something  contingent.  For,  if  these  values 
represent  the  true  significance  of  the  existent,  it 
is  impossible  to  see  why  they  should  demand  for 
their  realization  this  particular  sphere  of  causality. 
Moreover,  freedom,  in  the  sense  indicated,  implies 
the  exclusion  of  absolute  rational  necessity  from 
that  sphere  of  objectivity  which  is  at  once  the  base 
and  the  theatre  of  its  activity,  since  it  demands,  in 
the  order  of  things,  a  certain  elasticity,  in  virtue 
of  which  it  may  intervene  in  the  manifold  and 
mould  it  to  its  own  ends.  From  this  side  also, 
therefore,  an  element  of  contingency  insinuates 
itself  into  the  conception  of  universal  laws — a  con- 
ception which  is  thus  once  more  shown  to  include 
an  element  of  the  merely  actual,  and  to  be  no 
longer  a  conviction  of  the  absolutely  valid.  In  rela- 
tion to  the  ideal  of  universal  necessity,  interrupted 
or  variable  laws  are  contingent.  Here,  in  fact,  we 
touch  the  grounds,  as  well  as  the  limits,  of  deter- 
minism, which  is  never  more  than  a  deduction 
from   the  axiom    of   the   absolute   rationality  of 


things,  and  never  reaches  the  level  of  a  truth 
scientifically  proved. 

6.  Contingency  in  the  ideas  of  freedom  them- 
selves.— While  the  ultimate  cognizable  source  of 
the  idea  of  law,  and,  therefore,  of  unconditional 
necessity  also,  lies  in  the  ideas  of  freedom,  abso- 
lute value,  and  validity,  yet  the  particular  ele- 
ments of  that  ideal  order  cannot  be  regarded  as 
in  themselves  necessary.  Our  observation  does 
not  carry  us  beyond  an  actual  control  of  the  soul 
by  ideas  bearing  this  or  that  interpretation,  but 
we  can  never  derive  these  from  the  conception  of 
absolute  necessity.  As  regards  their  form,  moral 
ideas  may  be  unconditionally  necessary,  but  their 
content  is  dependent  upon  the  actual  conditions  of 
human  life.  Here  we  come  upon  the  root  of  the 
old  Scholastic  controversy  whether  the  moral  laws 
are  good  because  God  wills  them,  or  whether  God 
wills  them  because  they  are  good.  "We  thus  see 
that  the  idea  of  contingency  pierces  even  to  the 
deepest  sources  of  all  ideas  of  necessity. 

The  problem  of  contingency,  then,  in  its  various 
aspects,  contains  in  nuce  all  the  problems  of  philo- 
sophy, just  as  from  the  opposite  side  they  are  all 
contained  in  the  problem  of  Rationalism.  The 
question  of  contingency  is  in  reality  the  question 
as  to  the  relation  of  the  irrational  to  the  rational, 
of  the  actual  to  the  logical,  of  creation  to  the  eter- 
nity and  necessity  of  the  world.  The  reconciliation 
of  these  opposites  is  impossible.  The  actual  think- 
ing activity  of  man  consists  in  a  continuous  com- 
bination of  the  antitheses.  Absolute  Rationalism, 
with  Pantheism  as  its  logical  conclusion,  and  abso- 
lute Irrationalism,  with  its  logical  consequence  of 
the  irrelation  and  incoherence  of  things,  or  Poly- 
theism, are  alike  impossible.  The  final  synthesis 
does  not  lie  within  the  scope  of  human  thought, 
and  all  attempts  to  reach  it  lead  to  contradiction. 

In  its  religious  aspect,  the  idea  of  contingency 
implies  the  vitality,  multiplicity,  and  freedom  of 
the  world  in  God,  and,  indeed,  the  creative  freedom 
of  God  Himself ;  while  Rationalism,  on  the  other 
hand,  signifies  the  unity  of  the  world,  the  supremacy 
of  the  super-sensuous,  the  comprehension  of  ail 
things  in  a  universal  Divine  law.  Here,  again,  the 
logical  solution  lies  beyond  us.  In  actual  practice, 
it  is  true,  Judseo-Christian  Theism  takes  cognizance 
of  both  sides  at  once,  and  is  therefore,  speculatively, 
the  most  fertile  religious  principle.  Even  that  in- 
terpretation, however,  has  its  incoherences  and  its 
contradictions.  But,  in  the  last  resort,  it  remains 
to  be  said,  such  antinomies  are  ineradicably  present 
in  every  anti-theistic  system  as  well — in  Pantheism 
and  Nominalistic  Empiricism  alike. 

Literature. — W.  Kahl,  Lehre  vom  Primat  des  WiXtens  bei 
Augustinus,  Duns  Scotxcs  u.  Descartes,  Strassburg,  1886 ;  R. 
Seeberg,  Theol.  des  Johannes  Duns  Scotus,  Leipzig,  1900;  H. 
Rickert,  Grenzen  der  naturwissensch.  Begriffsbildung,  Tub- 
ingen, 1902;  C.  Sijjwart,  Logik^,  Tubingen,  1889  (Eng.  tr. 
1895);  W.  Windelband,  'Zum  Begriff  des  Gesetzes'  (Bericht 
d.  III.  internal.  Congr.  /.  Philos. ,  1909) ;  H.  Rickert,  '  Psy- 
chophys.  Kausalitiit.  u.  psychophys.  Parallelismus '  dPhil. 
Abhandlungen  Sigwart  geieidmet,  1900). 

E.  Teoeltsch. 
CONTINUITY  (Gr.  fw^Em,  to  o-weXfr;  Lat. 
continuatio,  continuum). — We  may  perhaps  dis- 
tinguish three  stages  in  the  history  of  the  notion 
of  continuity  :  (1)  a  pre-scientific  stage,  in  which 
the  notion  is  no  more  than  a  simple  description  of 
certain  obvious  facts  of  sense-experience  ;  (2)  a 
second  stage,  in  which  scientific  philosophy  first 
arrives  at  an  apparently  clear  and  distinct  concep- 
tion of  the  continuous  as  a  peculiar  kind  of 
magnitude  which  cannot  be  divided  into  units. 
This  stage  of  reflexion  makes  its  appearance  for 
the  first  time  in  the  Eleatic  criticism  of  the 
assumptions  of  Pythagorean  Geometry,  and  cul- 
minates in  the  Philosophy  of  Aristotle,  in  which 
the  conception  of  a  '  uniform  continuous  motion  ' 
is    central    for    the    whole    doctrine    of    Nature. 


90 


CONTINUITY 


Mathematically,  it  leads  to  the  sharp  contrast 
between  Arithmetic  as  the  science  of  non-continu- 
ous, and  Geometry  as  the  study  of  continuous, 
magnitude,  which  we  find  carried  out  in  the 
elements  of  Euclid.  (3)  The  third  stage,  repre- 
sented by  the  labours  of  the  19th  cent,  mathe- 
maticians, and  embodied  in  such  theories  of  the 
continuous  as  those  of  Dedekind  and  Georg  Cantor, 
consists  essentially  in  the  attempt  to  develop,  by 
means  of  an  extension  of  the  notion  of  number,  a 
purely  arithmetical  conception  of  the  continuum, 
and  so  to  restore  the  correspondence,  broken  down 
by  Eleatie  criticism,  between  Geometry  and  Arith- 
metic. That  the  new  mathematical  conceptions 
must,  as  they  become  more  widely  known,  exercise 
an  important  influence  on  the  development  of 
philosophical  thought  in  general  is  clear,  though 
it  is  perhaps  yet  too  early  to  predict  the  precise 
form  which  that  influence  will  take. 

1.  The  primary  notion  of  continuity. — Here,  as 
in  all  study  of  the  technical  concepts  of  science,  we 
have  to  begin  by  going  back  to  the  history  of 
Greek  thought  iu  its  expression  in  language.  As 
abundant  evidence  proves,  the  primary  notion  im- 
plied by  <rvfex.it  is  '  having  nothing  between,' 
'  presenting  no  sensible  gap,  '  hanging  together.' 
Thus,  with  reference  to  space,  we  find  Thucydides 
speaking  of  the  siege-works  at  Plata^a  as  £wexv 
olKTi/mTa,  '  buildings  without  a  gap,'  which,  as  he 
goes  on  to  say,  looked  like  an  unbroken  wall 
(iii.  21).  So,  with  reference  to  time,  in  the  medical 
writers  of  the  5th  cent.  <xvvex&  wvperol,  '  non- 
remitting  fevers,'  are  distinguished  from  8ia\et- 
tovtcs  Trvperol,  'periodical  fevers,'  and  in  Thucydides 
(v.  85)  a  £wexh*  p5<"s>  or  '  uninterrupted  address,' 
is  contrasted  with  a  free  conference,  in  which  each 
point  made  by  one  party  is  immediately  answered 
by  the  spokesman  of  the  other.  In  all  these  cases 
we  are  dealing  with  a  simple  experience  not  yet 
coloured  by  scientific  reflexion.  Every  one  knows 
the  difference  between  an  unbroken  line  and  a 
series  of  dots  with  sensible  intervals  between  them, 
between  a  steady  persisting  pain  and  one  which 
comes  and  goes,  between  the  flight  of  a  missile  and 
that  of  a  bird.  The  former  seem  to  'hang  to- 
gether,' the  latter  do  not ;  and  it  is  this  sensible 
'hanging  together'  which  the  plain  man  has  in 
mind  when  he  speaks  of  the  former  as  '  continuous.' 
So  far  no  distinction  has  been  made  between  a 
'  continuous  '  and  a  '  discrete '  kind  of  magnitude, 
one  which  cannot,  and  one  which  can,  be  broken 
up  into  ultimate  units,  themselves  indivisible. 
The  plain  man,  for  instance,  would  not  object  to 
talking  of  a  '  continuous '  series  of  integers  (e.g. 
those  from  1  to  10),  though  he  commonly  looks  on 
an  integer  as  a  'collection  of  ones'  (exactly  as 
Aristotle  did).  He  would  call  the  series  '  broken  ' 
only  if  one  of  the  members  were  left  out. 

2.  The  Pythagorean  Mathematics  and  the 
Eleatie  criticism ;  views  of  Plato  and  Aristotle. 
— Serious  reflexion  on  the  presuppositions  in- 
volved in  the  notion  of  the  '  unbroken  '  first  meets 
us  in  the  criticism  of  the  Eleatie  philosophers  of 
the  5th  cent,  on  the  mathematical  and  cosmological 
views  of  their  Pythagorean  neighbours.  Amid  all 
the  uncertainty  which  surrounds  the  reconstruction 
of  early  Pythagoreanism,  one  thing  seems  cer- 
tain. The  Pythagoreans  were  primarily  interested 
in  Arithmetic  because  they  saw  in  it  the  key  to 
the  interpretation  of  Nature.  In  particular,  they 
looked  on  Geometry,  the  foundation  of  all  genuine 
physical  science,  as  an  application  of  Arithmetic. 
'  Things  are  made  up  of  numbers '  because  they  are 
endowed  with  geometrical  form  and  magnitude, 
and  are  therefore  ultimately  made  of  points,  and  a 
point  is  simply  a  '  unit  having  position  '  (juoyds  64<nv 
l%ov<ra).  The  point  differs  from  the  '  unit,'  or 
'  number  1,'  only  in  the  additional  peculiarity  that 


it  '  has  position.'  Hence,  since  a  whole  number 
(dpt0/j.6s)  is  simply  a  '  collection  of  units,'  and  since 
a  geometrical  figure  is  a  collection  of  '  units  having 
position,'  there  is  an  absolute  correspondence  be- 
tween Arithmetic,  the  science  of  number,  and 
Geometry.  This  is  why,  in  the  Pythagorean 
scheme  of  the  sciences,  retained  by  Plato  in  the 
Republic  and  Epinomis,  Arithmetic  is  made  to 
take  precedence  of  Geometry.  The  later  arrange- 
ment, followed  by  Euclid — in  which  Geometry,  so 
far  as  it  can  be  pursued  without  the  study  of 
incommensurables,  comes  first  (bks.  i.-ir,  vi.), 
Arithmetic  next  (bks.  vii.-ix.),  and  then  the  theory 
of  surds  (bk.  x.) — is  due  to  the  effects  of  the 
criticism  of  which  we  have  now  to  speak. 

The  Pythagorean  doctrine  itself  led  very  directly 
to  consequences  which  were  fatal  to  its  own  assump- 
tions. If  lines  are  simply  made  up  of  an  integral 
number  of  '  units,'  it  ought  to  be  possible  in  theory 
to  answer  the  question  how  many  points  there  are 
in  any  given  terminated  line.  In  other  words,  all 
lines  ought  to  be  commensurable,  since  the  '  unit ' 
measures  them  all  without  remainder,  just  as  any 
two  integers,  even  if  prime  to  each  other,  yet  have 
1  as  their  G.C.M.  But  an  immediate  consequence 
of  the  '  Pythagorean  theorem  '  (Eucl.  i.  47)  itself  is 
that  there  is  no  assignable  whole  number  of  '  units  ' 
in  the  base  of  the  equilateral  right-angled  triangle. 

In  other  words,  ^/2  is  incommensurable  with  any 
integer.  If  the  Pythagoreans  employed  a  strictly 
scientific  method  for  their  crowning  achievement— 
the  inscription  of  the  dodecahedron  in  the  sphere — 
they  must  likewise  have  known  the  construction 
of  the  'golden  section'  (Eucl.  ii.  11),  which  intro- 
duces us  to  another  '  irrational '  magnitude,  *J5. 
The  legends  which  assert  that  Hippasus  of  Khegium 
was  drowned  by  the  brotherhood  for  revealing  one 
or  other  of  these  facts  show  how  acutely  the 
Pythagoreans  felt  the  contradiction  between  their 
assumption  and  their  conclusion.  Hence,  it  is  not 
wonderful  that  their  critics  should  have  pressed  it 
to  the  utmost.  Parmenides  (fl.  c.  475  B.C.,  accord- 
ing to  Plato)  had  already  attacked  their  funda- 
mental position  by  asserting  in  his  poem  that, 
since  jt«)  ibv  ('what  is  not,'  'empty  space')  is  a 
pure  unreality,  ri  £6v  ('  what  is,'  '  body ')  cannot 
be  divided  at  all,  because  it  is  £wex^s  ""Sk  ('all 
hanging  together '),  and  ibv  (6mi  ire \afci  ( '  what  is 
touches  what  is  ').  In  other  words,  a  body  cannot 
be  made  up  of  'units.'  Similarly  he  had  denied 
the  reality  of  all  temporal  succession.  Time  is  not 
made  up  of  '  moments,'  because  what  is  'never  was 
and  never  will  be,  since  it  is  now,  all  at  once,  one, 
unbroken '  (iiral  vvv  Icrnv,  6/iov  irav,  tv,  crvvexts).  This 
conclusion  would  be  immeasurably  strengthened 
by  the  discovery  of  surd  or  '  irrational '  lengths 
(i.e.  lengths  which  have  not,  to  the  unit  of  measure- 
ment we  assume,  the  \6yos,  or  ratio,  of  one  whole 
number  to  another).  We  may  put  the  difficulty 
thus.  The  Pythagorean  conception  of  the  point  as 
a  '  unit '  of  length  involves  the  view  that,  if  on  a 
terminated  straight  line  AB  we  mark  off  points 
corresponding  to  the  successive  integers,  we  have 
only  to  make  our  unit  of  length  sufficiently  small 
(i.e.  to  take  our  successive  points  near  enough 
together)  to  exhaust  all  the  points  of  the  line. 
The  discovery  of  a  single  '  surd '  length  is  enough 
to  show  that  this  is  false.  However  close  together 
we  take  our  points,  we  shall  never  have  included 
one  which  lies  from  the  origin  at  a  distance  equal 
to  the  diagonal  of  a  square  on  the  '  unit'  length ; 
or  again,  there  will  not  be  among  them  any  point 
at  which  a  straight  line  is  divided  in  '  extreme  and 
mean  ratio.'  Such  a  conclusion  would,  of  course, 
be  destructive  of  Geometry,  because  it  would 
invalidate  some  of  its  most  fundamental  construc- 
tions.    How  far  the  study  of  surds  was  advanced 


CONTINUITY 


91 


in  the  5th  cent,  we  do  not  know,  but  probably  not 
far,  since  in  the  Thewtetus  (p.  147  D  tf.)  Plato 
assumes  the  discovery  of  the  successive  quadratic 
surds  from  *J3  to  *J17  to  have  been  a  recent 
achievement  of  his  friends,  Theodoras,  Thesetetus, 
and  the  younger  Socrates.  Plato  and  his  school 
are  known  to  have  given  much  attention  to  the 
subject,  which  was  especially  advanced  by  Thece- 
tetus,  and  an  incidental  reference  in  the  early 
Peripatetic  tract  on  '  Indivisible  Lines  '  shows  us 
that  they  had  already  examined  and  named  at 
least  two  of  the  types  of  surd  expressions  studied 
in  Euclid  x. — the  dtroTo/j.^  and  the  4k  Svolv  ivoixiroiv. 

But,  even  without  the  explicit  study  of  surd 
magnitudes,  results  equally  fatal  to  the  Pytha- 
gorean identification  of  Geometry  with  applied 
Arithmetic  can  be  derived  from  the  argument  from 
infinite  divisibility,  and  it  was  this  argument  which 
was  specially  pressed  home  by  Parmenides'  pupil, 
Zeno  of  Elea  (fl.  c.  450,  according  to  Plato).  To 
appreciate  Zeno's  employment  of  the  argument, 
we  need  to  bear  in  mind  that  what  the  Greeks 
called  dpid/iSs  is  always  a  natural  whole  number  or 
integer.  (Even  in  Euclid,  the  notion  of  a  rational 
fraction  does  not  occur.  What  we  regard  as 
rational  fractions  he  always  treats  as  ratios  of  one 
integer  to  another.)  Now,  argued  Zeno,  any 
length,  however  small,  can  be  bisected,  but  no 
number  of  repeated  bisections  will  ever  leave  us 
with  an  indivisible  '  unit,'  but  only  with  a  length 
which  can  be  bisected  again.  Or,  since  the  argu- 
ment shows  that  the  '  units '  in  any  length  must 
be  infinitely  numerous,  if  the  'unit'  has  any 
magnitude  at  all,  every  length  will  be  infinite, 
while,  if  we  take  the  '  units '  to  be  zeros,  every 
length  will  be  infinitely  small,  since  the  sum  of  an 
infinity  of  zeros  is  still  zero.  Yet  again,  if  a  point 
has  magnitude,  the  addition  or  subtraction  of  one 
point  will  alter  the  length  of  a  line,  while,  if  the 
point  can  be  added  or  subtracted  without  affecting 
the  length  of  the  line,  it  has  no  magnitude,  and  is 
nothing  at  all  (see  the  fragments  of  Zeno  in  Diels, 
Vorsokratiker*,  i.  [1906]  130,  133  f.).  The  famous 
'  paradoxes '  of  Zeno,  dealing  with  the  concept  of 
motion  (for  which  see  Diels,  loc.  cit.  p.  131  f.  ; 
Burnet,  Early  Gr.  Philosophy*,  pp.  366-369  ;  Mil- 
haud,  Les  Philosophes-giometres  de  la  Grdce,  pp. 
130-140),  are  all  aimed  at  the  same  notion  of  space 
and  time  as  made  up  of  minima  of  length  and 
duration,  and,  as  against  this  conception,  are 
unanswerable.  They  do  not,  however,  really  prove 
all  that  Zeno  meant  they  should. 

From  Plato  (Parmenides,  128  D)  we  learn  that 
Zeno's  object  was  to  'reinforce'  the  doctrine  of 
Parmenides  that  'the  All  is  One,'  by  showing  that 
the  rival  theory  that  it  is  Many  leads  to  absurd 
results.  He  meant,  then,  to  show  that  space  and 
time  cannot  be  continua  of  points  or  moments. 
All  that  he  really  proved  was  that  they  cannot 
consist  of  points  or  moments  which  themselves 
have  magnitude,  that  the  '  elements '  of  a  con- 
tinuum cannot  be  '  units '  homogeneous  with  the 
continuum  constructed  out  of  them.  He  has,  in 
fact,  shown  that  there  must  be  more  points  on  the 
line,  more  moments  in  the  shortest  lapse  of  time, 
than  there  are  members  of  the  series  of  natural 
numbers,  or,  what  comes  to  the  same  thing,  that, 
though  every  continuum  is  infinitely  divisible, 
infinite  divisibility  is  not  an  adequate  criterion  of 
continuity.  He  has  not  shown  that  the  number- 
system  itself  is  not  capable  of  an  extension  which 
would  make  it  possible  to  establish  a  genuine  one- 
to-one  correlation  between  its  members  and  all  the 
points  of  a  terminated  straight  line.  Since,  how- 
ever, the  Greeks  had  no  conception  of  any  method 
of  constructing  numbers  other  than  the  adding  of 
successive  units  to  an  aggregate,  the  effect  of  Zeno's 
criticism  was,  in  time,  to  effect  a  complete  revolu- 


tion in  their  conception  of  Geometry.  Plato, 
indeed,  clings  to  the  old  view  of  number  as  the 
foundation  of  Geometry,  but  that  was  probably,  as 
we  shall  see,  merely  because  he  did  not  share  the 
common  view  which  identified  number  with  whole 
number.  But  the  Academy,  whose  results  are 
represented  for  us  by  the  work  of  Euclid  (the  last 
of  a  series  of  crrotxeiTai,  all  whose  predecessors 
seem  to  have  been  connected  with  the  Platonic 
school),  re-arranged  the  curriculum  of  Mathematics 
in  a  way  which  can  have  been  due  only  to  the 
Eleatic  criticism.  In  the  final  form  given  to  the 
trrotxeiO;  or  A-B-C,  of  the  subject  by  Euclid,  Plane 
Geometry  comes  first  (bks.  i.-vi.),  embracing  the 
theory  of  Proportion  as  re-cast  by  Eudoxus,  so  as 
to  make  it  applicable  to  incommensurables  and 
commensurables  alike  (bk.  v.),  then  Arithmetic 
(where  all  the  magnitudes  are  ex  hypothesi  com- 
mensurable [bks.  vii.-ix.]),  then  the  study  of 
Incommensurables  (which,  for  the  Greeks,  meant 
expressions  involving  quadratic  surds  [bk.  x.]), 
finally  Solid  Geometry,  culminating  in  the  inscrip- 
tion of  the  dodecahedron  (bks.  xi.-xiii.).  The 
effect  is  that  the  question  of  the  commensurability 
or  incommensurability  of  the  lines  dealt  with  is 
never  raised  in  the  books  which  treat  of  Plane 
Geometry.  Only  once  does  Euclid  in  these  books 
explicitly  undertake  the  construction  of  a  surd 
magnitude — viz.  in  ii.  11,  the  construction  of  the 
'  golden  section,'  which  had  to  be  dealt  with  early 
because  it  is  required  for  the  inscription  of  the 
pentagon  (iv.  11),  and  this  in  its  turn  for  that  of 
the  dodecahedron  (xiii.  17).  In  ii.  11  alone  is  it 
tacitly  presupposed  that  a  straight  line  possesses  a 
continuity  which  is  more  than  the  capacity  for 
being  infinitely  divided  into  aliquot  parts,  and  it 
is  interesting  to  see  that  the  scholia  to  the  pro- 
position (Euclid,  ed.  Heiberg,  v.  248-251)  specially 
call  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  '  problem  cannot 
be  represented  by  numbers,'  '  is  not  explicable  by 
counters.'  We  may  note  that  the  researches  of 
the  Academy  into  '  irrationals,'  as  represented  by 
Euclid  x.,  do  not  go  beyond  the  consideration  of 
various  types  of  surds  involving  the  extraction  of 
a  square  root.  This  limitation  is,  in  fact,  the 
theoretical  counterpart  of  the  practical  restriction 
to  constructions  which  can  be  carried  out  with 
ruler  and  compass,  for  '  an  analytical  expression  is 
capable  of  construction  by  ruler  and  compass  only 
when  it  can  be  derived  from  given  magnitudes  by 
a  finite  number  of  rational  operations  and  square 
roots,  since  the  intersection  of  two  straight  lines, 
of  two  circles,  of  a  straight  line  and  a  circle,  is 
always  equivalent  to  a  rational  operation  or  the 
extraction  of  a  square  root'  (F.  Klein,  Vortrage 
iiber  ausgeivahlten  Fragen  der  Elementargeometrie, 
Leipz.  1895,  adinit.).  A  further  discovery  of  the  5th 
cent. ,  which,  if  it  could  have  been  followed  up,  would 
have  been  even  more  fatal  to  the  old  arithmetical 
treatment  of  Geometry,  was  that  of  the  so-called 
guadratrix  (TeTpayuvlfavaa),  made  by  Hippias  of 
Elis.  This  curve,  which  gets  its  name  from  the 
fact  that,  if  it  could  be  mechanically  described, 
it  would  solve  the  problem  of  '  squaring  the 
circle,'  has  for  its  equation  in  polar  co-ordinates 

a  =  -. x  >  and  is  thus  the  first  example  in 

r  SUl   fcl  7T 

Greek  mathematics  of  a  transcendental  function. 

Summing  up,  we  may  say  that  the  actual  effect 
of  the  Eleatic  criticism  was  to  establish  a  sharp 
distinction  between  number,  as  composed  of  '  units,' 
and  /jityedos  ('  continuous  magnitude  '),  which  has  no 
'  unit '  or  '  minimum.'  A  number  is  simply  ir\?70os 
pov&Sav,  an  'aggregate  of  ones'  (Euclid  vii.,  def. 
1,  2),  and  consequently  any  two  numbers  have  a 
'  common  measure.'  The  straight  line,  being  in- 
finitely divisible  into  lesser  straight  lines,  has  no 
'  unit,    and  hence  two  such  lines  often  have  no 


92 


CONTINUITY 


'  common  measure,'  and  are  therefore  incommensur- 
able. The  point  is  put  very  clearly  in  the  intro- 
ductory scholium  to  Euclid  x.  (Heiberg,  v.  415)  : 

'  The  Pythagoreans  first  began  to  investigate  commensura- 
bility,  being  the  first  to  discover  it  from  their  study  of  numbers. 
For,  whereas  the  number  1  is  a  common  measure  of  all  numbers, 
they  failed  to  find  a  common  measure  of  magnitudes  hj.trye6£ti/). 
The  reason  is  that  any  number,  however  you  divide  it,  leaves 
you  with  a  least  part  which  admits  no  further  division.  But  no 
magnitude,  though  you  divide  it  ad  infinitum,  leaves  you  with 
a  part  which  is  a  minimum  .  .  .  but  only  with  a  part  which  can 
itself  be  divided  ad  infinitum.' 

Thus,  owing  to  the  criticism  of  Zeno,  infinite 
divisibility  came  to  be  regarded  as  the  sufficient 
criterion  of  continuity.  In  language  the  effect  of 
the  polemic  was  that  the  old  definition  of  the  point 
as  a  '  unit  with  position,'  which  we  know  to  be 
Pythagorean,  was  replaced  by  that  which  now 
stands  at  the  opening  of  Euclid's  Elements,  '  A 
point  is  that  which  has  no  parts '  (avjiudv  iariv  off 
/ju-pos  oidiv).  In  thus  being  indivisible  the  point 
does  not,  of  course,  differ  from  the  '  unit,'  or 
'  number  1 '  (fiovds)  (cf.  Plato,  Republic,  525  E),  but 
it  can  no  longer  be  called  novas,  because  it  is  now 
clearly  seen  that,  unlike  the  '  unit,'  the  point  cannot 
be  a  '  measure '  of  anything.  Hence  in  Plato  and 
Aristotle  novas  always  means  the  number  1 ;  for 
'  point '  Aristotle  always  says  en/jxlov  or  <rrt.yij.ri, 
while  Plato  (see  Aristotle,  Metaph.  A  992a,  21)  em- 
ployed the  designation  apxh  ypajj.ij.fis,  '  the  beginning 
of  the  line.'  There  are  perhaps  still  perceptible 
traces  of  5th  cent,  opposition  to  the  consequences 
which  Zeno  had  drawn  from  infinite  divisibility. 
Protagoras,  like  Zeno,  a  member  of  the  Periclean 
circle,  argued,  in  '  refutation '  of  the  geometers, 
that  a  circle  and  tangent  have  a  stretch,  not  a 
single  point,  in  common  (Aristotle,  Metaph.  B  997b, 
35).  This  looks  like  an  attempt  to  deny  the 
infinite  divisibility  of  the  line,  and  to  identify  the 
minimum  visibile  with  the  unit  of  extension,  and 
thus  to  get  rid  of  the  notion  of  incommensurability. 
Hence  it  may  be,  as  Burnet  has  suggested  (op.  cit. 
188),  that  the  formula  Protagoras  chose  for  his 
relativism,  '  Man  is  the  measure  of  all  things,'  was 
influenced  by  opposition  to  the  new  doctrine  of 
magnitudes  which  have  '  no  common  measure. '  The 
anti-mathematical  argument  of  Protagoras  led  to  a 
rejoinder  from  his  greater  townsman  Democritus,  in 
the  catalogue  of  whose  works  drawn  up  in  the  1st 
cent.  A.D.  by  Thrasyllus  we  find  one  on  'the  con- 
tact of  the  circle  and  the  sphere,'  and  another  on 
'irrational  lines.'  According  to  Plato  and  Aristo- 
phanes (Clouds,  144  ff.),  who  are  unwillingly 
confirmed  by  Xenophon  (Mem.  IV.  vii.  3,  5), 
Socrates,  too,  was  among  the  mathematicians,  and 
it  may  be  noted  that  in  the  three  chief  places 
where  Plato  makes  him  exhibit  mathematical 
interests  (Meno,  82-85  B,  Thecetetus,  148  AB, 
Republic,  546  BC)  a  problem  involving  surd  mag- 
nitudes is,  in  each  case,  under  consideration. 

Plato's  attitude  towards  the  problem  raised  by 
the  discovery  of  surds,  and  the  recognition  that 
the  infinitely  divisible  cannot  be  made  of  'units,' 
is,  at  first  sight,  perplexing.  He  is  deeply  in- 
terested in  the  study  o  surd  expressions,  and  fully 
aware  of  the  infinite  divisibility  of  imyiin,  but 
refuses  to  take  the  step  of  severing  Geometry  from 
Arithmetic,  and  of  selecting  elementary  Plane 
Geometry  (which  can  be  studied  without  any  re- 
ference to  the  existence  or  non-existence  of  '  units ') 
as  the  subject  with  which  Mathematics  should 
begin.  To  the  last 'he  insists  that  Arithmetic,  the 
theory  of  numbers,  is  the  foundation  on  which  all 
other  branches  of  Mathematics  should  be  based, 
and  the  clue  to  their  meaning.  We  can  exempt 
him  from  the  charge  of  inconsequence  only  by 
supposing  that  his  retention  of  Arithmetic  as  the 
corner-stone  of  Mathematics  was  due  to  a  convic- 
tion that  '  number  '  is  not  exhausted  by  the  series 
of  the  natural  numbers,   the  iiovaSiKol  apidnol,  or 


numbers  made  up  of  units,  which  Aristotle  always 
asserts  are  the  only  numbers  there  are.  If  the 
concept  of  number  be  widened  so  as  to  take  in  the 
surds,  so  Plato  probably  thought,  we  may  still 
adhere  to  the  notion  of  one-to-one  correspondence 
of  the  points  on  a  terminated  line  with  the  mem- 
bers of  the  number-series,  without  incurring  any 
of  the  difficulties  which  were  fatal  to  the  old 
Pythagorean  geometry.  (Just  so,  our  ordinary 
Analytical  Geometry  rests  on  assuming  such  a 
correspondence  of  the  points  of  the  line  with  the 
complete  series  of  the  real  numbers. )  That  Plato 
had  formed  some  such  conception  of  a  possible 
extension  of  the  concept  of  number  seems  clear  from 
more  than  one  consideration.  The  suggestion,  as 
Milhaud  has  shown  (op.  cit.  bk.  ii.  ch.  5),  explains 
why  Aristotle  regards  it  as  a  capital  point  against 
Plato  to  insist  that  there  is  no  way  of  generating 
numbers  except  by  the  addition  of  units,  and  why  so 
much  is  made  in  Metaphysics  M  of  the  complaint 
that  the  '  numbers '  of  which  the  Platonic  '  Ideas  ' 
are  composed  are  not  all  o-v/j.f}\rrrol,  commensurable 
with  one  another.  Aristotle  is,  in  effect,  complain- 
ing that  Plato's  theory  presents  us  with  expressions 
like  ^2,  ^3,  a  +  »Jb,  and  the  like ;  whereas  he 
himself  holds  that  there  is  no  place  for  them  in  the 
number-series,  just  as  Euclid  is  always  careful  to 
speak  of  such  magnitudes  as  ixeyidii,  and  to  sym- 
bolize them  by  straight  lines  and  rectangles. 
Positive  evidence  to  the  same  effect  is  furnished  by 
a  remarkable  passage  of  one  of  Plato's  latest 
works,  the  Epinomis,  the  point  of  which  is  to 
maintain  that  all  Mathematics  is  really  the  study 
of  the  generation  and  properties  of  numbers  (Epin. 
990  C  ff.).  We  are  particularly  told  here  that  the 
names  '  geometry  '  and  '  stereometry  '  are  alto- 
gether misleading,  and  the  former  is  said  to  be 
'extremely  absurd.'  'Geometry'  is  'manifestly 
an  assimilation,  effected  by  reference  to  surfaces, 
of  numbers  which  are  not  in  their  own  nature 
similar ' ;  and  '  stereometry  '  is  the  '  study  of 
numbers  raised  to  the  third  power,  and  similar  to 
the  nature  of  the  solid,  where  again  those  which 
are  dissimilar  are  made  similar  by  a  further 
device.'  (The  passage  should  be  read  in  Burnet'» 
edition,  the  only  one  in  which  the  text  has  not  been 
perverted  by  editorial  dullness. ) 

The  passage  just  quoted  represents  the  highest 
development  of  the  Platonic  theory  of  number.  It 
is  clearly  an  attempt  to  vindicate  for  the  number- 
series  itself  the  same  character  of  a  continuum  as 
that  which  belongs  to  the  straight  line,  by  finding 
room  in  it  for  numbers  answering  to  the  irrational 
lengths  of  Geometry.  If  we  followed  out  Plato's 
suggestions  in  his  own  spirit,  what  they  would  lead 
to  would  be  something  of  the  following  kind. 
Taking  a  terminated  straight  line,  we  might  first 
assign  the  co-ordinates  0  and  1  to  its  end-points. 
Then,  by  infinitely  repeated  division,  we  should 
get  one  and  only  one  point  corresponding  to  each 
rational  fraction  between  0  and  1.  Then,  by  in- 
serting further  points  corresponding  to  all  the 
irrationals  between  0  and  1,  we  should  obtain 
points  corresponding  to  the  whole  series  of  algebraic 
numbers.  The  resulting  number-series  would  not, 
however,  exhaust  the  points  on  the  line,  and  would 
therefore  not  possess  the  continuity  of  the  point- 
series,  since  it  would  contain  no  terms  whose 
co-ordinates  are  transcendental  numbers,  though 
it  would  contain  an  infinity  of  points  not  obtain- 
able by  the  process  of  repeated  division. 

Aristotle's  statement  that  Plato  refused  to  speak 
of  '  points,'  but  called  them  instead  '  the  beginning 
of  the  line,'  seems  to  indicate  another  attempt  to 
face  a  difficulty  inherent  in  the  current  conception 
of  whole  number.  From'  the  earliest  times  of 
Pythagoreanism  downwards,  we  find  it  regularly 
assumed  that  the  number-series  must  begin  with  1, 


CONTINUITY 


93 


the  '  unit.'  But  the  criticism  of  Zeno  had  shown 
that  we  cannot  think  of  the  '  point '  as  a  '  unit 
length.'  If  the  correspondence  between  Geometry 
and  Arithmetic  is  to  be  kept  up,  as  Plato  wished 
it  to  be,  we  must  begin  our  number-series  with 
something  which  answers  to  a  zero  of  magnitude 
in  Geometry ;  the  first  number  must  be  0,  not  1. 
It  was,  no  doubt,  this  character  of  the  point  as  a 
zero  which  led  Plato  to  avoid  recognizing  it  as  a 
distinct  entity,  and  to  call  it  '  the  beginning  of  the 
line.'  It  seems  most  probable,  however,  that  he 
did  not  clearly  draw  the  right  conclusion  that,  in 
the  same  way,  0  is  the  beginning  of  the  number- 
series.  More  probably  he  thought  of  the  point, 
as  Xenocrates  is  known  to  have  done,  as  an  '  infini- 
tesimal line,'  and  must  be  added  to  the  list  of 
thinkers  like  Leibniz,  who  have  been  led  astray  in 
their  theory  of  the  continuous  by  this  phantasm  of 
a  thing  which  is  somehow  at  once  something  and 
nothing. 

Further  interesting  contributions  are  made  to 
the  theory  of  continuity  in  the  puzzling  dialogue 
Parmeniaes.  Without  raising  the  question  of  the 
purport  of  the  dialogue  as  a  whole,  we  may  note 
the  references  made  in  its  antinomies  to  the 
difficulty  of  regarding  a  continuum  as  constructed 
out  of  real  elements.  We  may  take  first  the  treat- 
ment of  'contact'  (p.  148  Dft'.).  When  a  number 
of  things  are  in  contact,  each  '  lies  next  to '  (^0f£i)s 
icemji)  that  which  is  in  contact  with  it ;  e.g.  if  a 
straight  line  is  made  up  of  distinct  '  units '  in  con- 
tact with  one  another,  the  units  must  leave  no 
gaps  between  them,  and  each  must  have  a  definite 
'next  adjacent'  unit.  In  modern  phraseology,  the 
line  must  be  a  '  well-ordered '  assemblage  of  points. 
Hence,  in  a  series  of  n  members  there  must  be 
(re-1)  contacts.  It  is  therefore  inferred  that,  'if 
there  is  not  number  in  ri  6Xka '  (the  things  '  other 
than  the  One,'  '  the  Many  '),  the  '  One'  cannot  '  be 
in  contact  with  them.'  For  Geometry  this  plainly 
means  that,  if  the  points  on  the  line  are  not '  units ' 
(and  the  criticism  of  Zeno  had  shown  that  they  are 
not),  no  point  on  a  line  has  an  immediately 
adjacent  or  next  point.  Since  every  integer  has 
a  next  integer  in  the  actual  number-series,  this 
means  that  the  points  on  a  terminated  straight 
line,  taken  in  the  order  of  their  distances  from  one 
of  the  end-points,  cannot  be  symbolized  by  the 
series  of  integers.  Continuity,  as  exhibited  in  the 
line,  must  be  something  other  than  the  mere  un- 
broken succession  of  the  whole  number-series  1,  2,  3, 
.  .  .  n, .  .  .  Later  on  (155  E-157  B),  we  have  an  argu- 
ment to  show  that  the  very  conceptof  change  leads  to 
the  thought  of  time  as  a  series  of  '  moments '  which 
have  no  duration,  just  as  the  points  on  a  line  have 
no  extension.  When  a  body  which  was  moving 
comes  to  rest,  or  vice  versa,  there  is  a  transition 
from  the  one  state  to  the  other.  This  cannot  take 
place  'in  time,'  i.e.  there  is  no  interval,  however 
small,  in  which  the  body  is  neither  moving  nor  at 
rest,  but  passing  out  of  motion  into  rest ;  in  any 
given  interval  it  is  either  moving  or  stationary. 
Hence  the  transition  occupies  no  duration,  but 
happens  instantaneously,  and  we  are  compelled  to 
form  the  '  paradoxical  (dtro?ros)  conception  of  the 
'instantaneous'  (t6  <?£a(0i>?;s).  The  paradox  seems 
to  lie  in  the  fact  that  it  is  hard  to  decide  whether 
the  moment  at  which  the  velocity  0  is  reached 
should  be  counted  as  the  last  moment  of  motion  or 
as  the  first  moment  of  rest.  We  must,  in  the  one 
case,  think  of  the  time  during  which  the  body  moves 
as  having  no  last  moment,  in  the  other  of  the  time 
during  which  it  is  stationary  as  having  no  first 
moment — an  immediate  consequence  of  the  con- 
sideration that  no  moment  has  a  '  next '  moment. 

In  Aristotle  we  meet  with  none  of  the  anticipa- 
tions of  a  riper  thought  which  fascinate  us  in  Plato, 
but  we  have,  by  way  of  compensation,   a  very 


explicit  account  of  continuity,  in  so  far  as  infinite 
divisibility  may  be  taken  as  a  sufficient  criterion 
of  it.  The  notion  is  fundamental  in  the  Aristotelian 
system,  because  the  steady  and  uninterrupted  pro- 
cess of  the  development  of  latent  potentialities 
into  actualities,  which,  for  Aristotle,  constitutes 
'  Nature,'  depends  in  the  last  resort  upon  the  uni- 
form and  continuous  movement  of  the  heavens, 
and  continuous  movement  demands  the  continuity 
of  time  and  space.  Hence  any  denial  of  the  con- 
tinuity of  extension,  duration,  and  movement  is 
fatal  to  Aristotle's  whole  Naturphilosophie.  The 
tract  on  the  Categories  gives  us  the  general  view 
current  in  Academic  circles  and  presupposed  by  the 
more  special  discussions  in  Aristotle's  discourses 
on  '  Physics.'  t6  irbtsov  (quantum)  has  two  species 
— r6  dLwpta [itvov  (elsewhere  also  t6  diaLperdv),  '  the 
discrete';  and  t6  <rvvex^>  'the  continuous.'  The 
vital  difference  between  them  is  that  the  '  parts ' 
(fidpia)  of  the  '  discrete '  quantum  have  no  kowAs 
S/>os,  or  'common  boundary,'  at  which  they  join; 
e.g.  10  (for  Aristotle  always  confuses  the  number 
of  a  collection  with  the  collection  itself,  and  many 
of  his  attacks  on  Plato  arise  from  inability  to 
see  that,  though  there  are  many  pairs  of  things 
in  the  world,  there  is  only  one  number  2,  and  this 
number  itself  is  not  a  '  pair ')  consists  of  7  +  3,  but 
no  one  of  the  '  units '  of  the  7  is  identical  with  any 
unit  of  the  3.  But  the  'parts'  of  a  'continuous' 
quantum  always  have  such  a  '  common  boundary,' 
which,  in  the  case  of  the  line,  is  a  point ;  i.e.  when 
the  terminated  straight  line  AB  is  divided  at  C, 
the  writer  reckons  C  as  belonging  both  to  AC,  of 
which  it  is  the  last  point,  and  to  CB,  of  which  it  is 
the  first,  thus  illogically  counting  the  one  point  C 
twice  over.  Similarly  with  time :  the  present 
moment  'joins  on'  (crwairret)  both  to  the  past  and 
to  the  future.  It  may  be  taken  either  as  the  first 
or  as  the  last  moment  of  an  unbroken  time-series. 
This  is  the  really  important  point  in  the  distinction 
drawn  for  us  between  the  two  kinds  of  quanta, 
since  it  implies,  of  course,  that  the  crwexis  tt6<tov  or 
continuum  is  infinitely  divisible,  and  therefore  does 
not  consist  of  units  or  minima.  It  is  added  that 
not  all  continua  are  composed  of  parts  which  '  have 
position ' ;  e.g.  since  the  past,  present,  and  future 
are  not  all  co-existent,  no  part  of  time  is  '  anywhere ' 
relatively  to  the  rest.  The  parts  have  not  position, 
but  only  '  order '  (t<££is),  and  so  far  resemble  the 
members  of  the  whole  number-series.  (We  must 
not,  of  course,  press  this  analogy  too  far,  since  it 
would  lead  to  the  view  that  the  'parts'  of  time  form 
a  '  well-ordered '  aggregate,  in  which  each  term 
has  an  immediately  next  term.  Time  would  then 
be  made  up  of  minima  of  duration,  and  would  not  be 
continuous  in  the  writer's  sense  [Categories,  5b-6a].) 
More  characteristic  is  the  account  given  in  Meta- 
physics A  1020%  7  ff.  —  irdaov  (quantum)  means 
'  that  which  can  be  divided  into  constituents  in- 
herent in  it,  whereof  each  is  one  and  ' '  this  " '  (rb 
SLcuperbv  els  tvvTrapxovra  &v  eK&repov  i)  ^Kaarov  ?v  ti 
nal  r6Se  ti  ireipvKev  elvai  [1020%  8]).  Such  a  quantum 
is  a  7rX7j0os,  or  assemblage,  if  it  can  be  numbered  ; 
a  /leyedos  if  it  can  only  be  measured.  Thus  a 
jrXijtfos  can  be  divided  into  countable  non-con- 
tinuous elements,  but  a  /ieyc8os  only  into  continua. 
(We  cannot,  e.g.,  divide  a  line  into  points,  but  only 
into  lesser  lines,  so  that  infinite  divisibility  is 
taken  as  the  criterion  of  /j.eye$os,  '  continuous 
quantity.')  A  delimited  (ircTrcpaa/ihoy)  irXijOos  is  a 
whole  number ;  a  delimited  /xiyeffos  is  a  line,  sur- 
face, or  body,  according  to  the  number  of  its 
dimensions.  Thus  there  is  only  one  kind  of  magni- 
tude which  is  continuous  in  its  own  right  (Kaff'  ain-6) 
— extension.  Time  and  movement  are  continua, 
not  in  their  own  right,  but  derivatively  (Kara. 
crvfj.8efiTiK6s),  in  virtue  of  their  connexion  with  the 
fieyedos  per  se,  extension.     Since  the  trajectory  of 


94 


CONTINUITY 


a  moving  body  is  a  continuum,  the  motion  is  a  con- 
tinuum also,  and  therefore  also  the  time  occupied 
in  the  transit.  A  fuller,  but  logically  unsatis- 
factory, account  is  given  in  the  Physics.  The 
Eleatics  had  held  that  the  continuous  is  indivisible 
(a  theory  which  meets  us  again  in  Spinoza).  Aris- 
totle points  out  that,  on  the  contrary,  only  the 
continuous  is  infinitely  divisible  (185b,  10).  So  we 
are  told  in  bk.  Y  that  '  motion  '  (the  fundamental 
category  of  a  science  of  '  Nature ')  is  generally 
held  (Soicet)  to  be  one  of  the  continua,  and  it  is 
in  the  continuous  that  the  '  infinite '  first  makes 
itself  noticeable.  Hence,  those  who  give  defini- 
tions of  continuity  commonly  presuppose  the  con- 
cept of  the  infinite,  on  the  ground  that  '  what  is 
divisible  ad  infinitum  is  continuous '  (200b,  18).  The 
point  that  the  one  primary  continuum  is  spatial 
recurs  in  bk.  A,  ch.  xi.  Time  is  relative  to  change 
(/uera^oX);),  since  it  is  only  where  we  perceive 
change  that  we  are  conscious  of  duration.  If  the 
'  seven  sleepers '  woke  up,  they  would  not  be  aware 
that  time  had  elapsed  during  their  sleep.  They 
would  '  connect  the  former  now  with  the  subsequent 
now,  and  make  one  of  them.'  To  know  what  time 
is,  we  have  to  ask  in  what  way  it  is  related  to 
motion  (tL  r»)s  /uvijirecis  iariv).  But  what  moves, 
moves  from  somewhere  to  somewhere.  The 
character  of  motion  depends  on  that  of  the  path  it 
traverses.  Motion  is  thus  continuous  because  its 
path  is  so,  and  time  is  continuous  because  motion 
is.  Time  is  '  the  number  of  motion  in  respect  of 
before  and  after '  (220%  24).  The  use  of  the  word 
'  number '  is  unhappy,  since  Aristotle  is  never  tired 
of  insisting  that  there  are  no  numbers  but  the 
fiovadiKbs  api8(t6s,  the  whole  numbers  made  by 
addition  of  units  ;  and  the  definition,  taken  strictly, 
is  thus  inconsistent  with  the  view  that  there  is  no 
minimum  of  duration.  The  Platonic  account  (see 
Timrnus,  37  D,  and  the  Academic  collection  of  3/>ot) 
that  time  is  the  measure  (i^rpov)  of  motion,  which 
Aristotle  sometimes  repeats,  is  thus  much  more 
accurate. 

We  finally  reach  Aristotle's  own  formal  definition 
of  t6  crwexes  in  Physics  B  227%  where  it  is  given 
as  the  last  resultant  of  a  whole  series  of  previous 
definitions.  Things  are  '  together '  (&/m)  when  they 
are  in  'one  and  the  same  primary  place'  (iv  ivl 
t6ttu>  Trpilmp),  i.e.  enclosed  in  the  same  circum- 
ambient surface.  Two  things  of  which  the  ex- 
tremities are  '  together '  are  '  in  contact,'  or  '  touch  ' 
each  other.  A  thing  is  '  between '  (yueraf  i5)  two 
others,  when  something  which  is  continuously 
changing  arrives  at  it  '  before  it  reaches  the  end  of 
the  process  of  change  '  (i.e.  C  is  between  A  and  B, 
if,  in  moving  continuously  from  A  to  B,  you  pass 
C  before  reaching  B.  Thus  the  '  derivative '  notion 
of  continuous  movement  is  illogically  employed  to 
define  the  'primary'  continuum  of  extension!). 
We  now  define  '  next  after,'  and  '  immediately 
adherent.'  A  term  in  an  ordered  series  is  'next 
after '  (£<pe$i)s)  another  when  there  is  no  term  of  the 
same  kind  between  them.  The  phrase  '  adherent 
to'  (4x6/ievov)  means  both  'next after'  a  given  term 
and  'in  contact'  with  it  (6  hv  tyetfjs  hv  &irrirrai). 
Finally,  continuity  is  a  special  case  of  immediate 
adherence,  which  arises  when  the  two  'ends' 
(■rrtpaTa.)  of  things  which  immediately  adhere  become 
one  and  identical  (X^yw  5'  elvai  amcxh  Srav  rairi 
yivqrai  koX  iv  to  luarepov  irtpas  o?s  &.tttovto.i.).  Alex- 
ander of  Aphrodisias,  as  we  learn  from  Simplicius, 
found  this  passage  hard  to  interpret,  and  with  good 
reason.  Apart  from  the  logical  hysteron  proteron 
already  noted,  there  is  a  further  difficulty  involved 
in  the  definitions  of  'together'  and  'contact.' 
What  is  meant  by  '  the  same  primary  place '  ? 
Simplicius  escapes  from  Alexander's  uncertainty 
as  to  whether  the  notion  of  continuity  is  not 
tacitly  presupposed  by  such  a  phrase  only  by  giving 


it  a  purely  relative  sense ;  it  may  mean  at  will 
'in  the  same  town,'  'the  same  house,'  'the  same 
room,'  etc.  In  fact,  it  has  no  definite  meaning  at 
all.  The  same  defect  attaches  to  the  subsequent 
definitions,  which  depend  on  that  of  '  together.' 
Two  things  are  '  in  contact '  when  their  extremities 
are  '  together.'  And  such  contact  may  exist  with- 
out continuity.  The  extremities, las  in  the  case  of 
things  which  are  merely  'adherent,'  may  be 
'  together '  and  yet  remain  distinct.  Such  a  defini- 
tion does  not  satisfy  our  geometrical  notion  of 
'contact.'  However  small  we  take  the  'primary 
place '  of  the  two  extremities  to  be,  so  long  as  the 
extremities  remain  distinct,  there  is  no  contact. 
However  small  the  distance  between  a  straight 
line  and  a  circle  may  be,  so  long  as  it  remains 
finite  at  all,  the  straight  line  is  not  a  tangent ;  it 
becomes  a  tangent  only  when  there  is  one  point, 
and  only  one,  which  lies  both  on  the  circle  and  on 
the  straight  line.  Thus,  surfaces  which  '  adhere ' 
must  be  absolutely  identical.  Aristotle  is,  in  fact, 
assuming  (with  an  eye  to  his  astronomical  theories) 
that  we  can  have  a  set  of  concentric  spheres  en- 
closed within  one  another  so  that  no  space  is  left 
between  the  convexity  of  one  and  the  concavity  of 
the  next  outermost,  and  yet  that  the  convexity  and 
the  concavity  remain  distinct  surfaces.  But  this 
is  geometrically  impossible. 

The  one  point  of  real  interest  which  emerges 
from  the  discussion  is  the  hint  of  a  connexion 
between  the  notion  of  continuity  and  that  of  series. 
As  Aristotle  states  the  connexion,  it  is  open  to  un- 
answerable criticism,  since  the  very  impossibility  of 
dividing  the  continuous  into  '  units '  shows  that  a 
continuum,  as  given,  cannot  consist  of  members 
each  having  a  'next  following  term,'  but  the  main 
idea  has  borne  remarkable  fruit  in  our  own  days  in 
Cantor's  '  ordinal'  definition  of  the  continuum,  and 
a  striking  attempt  has  been  made  by  Zermelo  (in 
Mathematische  Annalen,  LIX.  iv.  514  ff.)  to  show 
that  any  continuous  series  (e.g.  that  of  the  points 
on  a  terminated  straight  line)  permits  of  an  arrange- 
ment of  its  members  such  that  every  one  has  a 
'next  following'  member.  That  no  member  of 
such  a  series  as  given  in  experience  has  a  '  next ' 
member  is,  with  laudable  inconsistency,  insisted 
on  by  Aristotle  himself.  '  Nothing  continuous  can 
be  made  out  of  indivisibles,  e.g.  a  line  cannot  be 
made  out  of  points '  (Phys.  Z  231",  24).  For,  by 
definition,  the  extremities  (ftrxcra)  of  things  which 
are  continuous  coalesce,  but  an  indivisible  point  or 
moment  has  no  extremities.  The  consequence  is 
that  the  line  cannot  '  consist  of '  points,  since  even 
by  infinitely  repeated  division  we  can  only  !  break 
it  up  into  lesser  lines,  which  are,  again,  divisible. 
o-wexv  can  be  divided  only  into  o-wexv>  or,  as 
Bradley  has  put  it,  space  (and  time)  are  '  lengths 
of  lengths  of — nothing  that  we  can  find '  (Appear- 
ance and  Reality*,  London,  1897,  p.  37).  On  the 
straight  line,  e.g.,  we  can  find  nothing  but  points, 
yet  it  is  not  a  series  or  class  of  points,  but  some- 
thing more,  though  what  that  something  is  we 
cannot  say.  This  leads  Aristotle  to  break  with 
the  Platonic  view  that  Arithmetic,  Geometry,  and 
Kinematics  form  a  single  science  with  a  single 
body  of  postulates.  'Physics,'  so  he  unhappily 
concludes,  is  distinct  from  Mathematics,  and 
Mathematics  itself  falls  into  two  distinct  doctrines, 
each  with  its  own  peculiar  postulates — the  theory 
of  the  SioipurpUvov  irdtrov,  or  number,  Arithmetic ; 
and  Geometry,  the  theory  of  the  vwexis  ir6<xov — 
and  it  is  a  logical  fallacy  to  attempt  to  prove  a 
conclusion  which  belongs  to  the  one  science  from 
the  postulates  of  the  other  (oiiK  &pa  Scmv  4£  AWov 
yivovs  tierafiavTa  5e?£cu,  olov  to  yeufierpiicbv  apidfnjTiiq}, 
Anal.  Post.  A  75%  38).  Zeno  has  at  last  come  by 
his  rights,  in  spite  of  Aristotle's  personal  failure  te 
appreciate  his  historical  significance. 


CONTINUITY 


95 


To  consider  the  way  in  which  Aristotle  goes  on  to  develop  the 
view  that  the  regular  and  continuous  development  from  potenti- 
ality to  actuality  which  makes  up  the  life  of  Nature,  as  we  see 
it  in  the  evolution  of  the  adult  organism  from  the  germ,  and  of 
the  germ,  in  turn,  from  the  adult  organism,  or  even  in  any 
steady  qualitative  change  from  one  '  opposite  '  (e.g.  white,  hot, 
dry)  to  its  contrary  (black,  cold,  moist),  depends  upon  the 
domination  of  Nature  by  the  unending  'uniform'  and  con- 
tinuous circular  revolutions  of  the  celestial  spheres — would  take 
us  too  far  from  our  immediate  subject.  We  may  merely  note 
that  it  is  an  indispensable  feature  of  this  view  that  these  re- 
volutions are  *  irreversible,'  and  always  take  place  not  only  with 
uniform  velocity,  but  in  the  same  sense,  since  a  sudden  reversal 
would  be  equivalent  to  a  momentary  breach  of  continuity.  The 
moving  body  would,  Aristotle  thinks,  have  to  be  twice  at  the 
game  point  X,  if  X  is  to  be  both  the  goal  of  the  movement  in 
one  direction  and  the  starting-point  for  the  movement  in  the 
other.  Motion  in  a  straight  line  without  reversal  is  excluded  bj' 
the  assumed  finitude  of  the  universe,  and  thus,  according  to 
Aristotle,  only  the  circle  remains,  since  it  is  the  only  curve 
of  which  'every  part  is  congruent  with  every  other,'  i.e.  the 
only  curve  of  constant  curvature.  (For  all  this,  see  Physics  ©, 
de  Ccelo,  and  de  Generate  passim  ;  Metaph.  A,  chs.  vi.-viii.) 

From  the  special  tract  against  Xenocrates  and  his  assumption 
of  infinitesimal  lines  which  are  indivisible  (de  Lineis  Inseca- 
bilibus,  a  work  of  some  early  Peripatetic,  apparently  not  Aris- 
totle himself)  nothing  can  be  drawn  for  our  purpose,  though  it 
is  historically  interesting,  as  showing  that  the  study  of  at  least 
some  of  the  irrationals  examined  in  Euclid  x.  goes  back  to  Plato 
and  his  immediate  followers,  as  does  also  the  notion  of  the 
'infinitesimal.'  Some  interesting  notices  are  preserved  to  ua 
by  Sextus  Empiricus,  in  bk.  x.  of  his  attack  on  Dogmatic 
Philosophers,  which  reveal  the  fact  that  the  polemic  of  the 
Megarian  formal  logicians  against  Aristotle's  whole  conception  of 
the  gradual  development  of  potentiality  into  actuality,  of  which 
we  read,  e.g.,  in  Metaphysics  0  1046b,  29-32,  was  connected 
with  a  revival  of  Zeno's  arguments  against  motion.  Diodorus 
Oronus  (Sextus,  contra  Mathemalicos,  x.  86)  specially  attacked 
the  notion  of  a  'state'  of  motion,  i.e.  a  time  at  which  one 
cannot  say  of  a  moving  material  point  (an  i^epes  crw/ia,  i.e.  a 
'material  point,'  not  an  'atom'  in  the  sense  of  Democritus  or 
Epicurus,  since  the  atom  was  not  adepts)  that  it  is  at  any 
position,  but  only  that  it  is  moving  from  one  position  to  another, 
though  one  can,  Diodorus  admits,  say  that  such  a  body  must 
have  moved,  when  it  is  seen  first  at  A  and  afterwards  at.B.  The 
view  of  the  reality  of  a  '  state  of  movement '  here  attacked  is, 
in  fact,  one  of  the  chief  difficulties  inherent  in  Aristotle's  whole 
treatment  of  continuity. 

Nothing  would  be  gained  by  following  the  history 
of  the  notion  of  continuity  in  Greek  philosophy 
beyond  the  time  of  Aristotle.  The  Stoics,  to  be 
sure,  influenced  later  thought  considerably  by  their 
vigorous  insistence  on  the  idea  of  the  absolute 
continuity  of  matter,  but  neither  they  nor  the 
Neo-Platonists,  whose  doctrines  may  be  called 
the  final  outcome  of  Greek  speculation,  added 
anything  to  what  Aristotle  had  laid  down  as 
to  the  logical  analysis  of  the  concept  of  the  con- 
tinuous itself.  The  sharp  division  between  the 
two  kinds  of  ir6o-a,  those  which  are  divisible  into 
ultimate  '  units '  (the  '  discrete '  quanta)  and  those 
which  are  not  (the  o-wexv,  or  continuous  wdtra), 
the  adoption  of  infinite  divisibility  as  the  criterion 
of  continuity,  and  the  consequent  view  that  in- 
eommensurables  belong  to  Geometry  and  have  no 
place  in  Arithmetic — were  the  permanent  legacy 
from  the  ancient  to  the  modern  philosophy  of  the 
continuous. 

3.  Modern  attitude. — The  general  acquiescence 
in  Aristotle's  distinctions  makes  it  unnecessary 
to  treat  at  any  great  length  of  the  views  of  most 
modern  philosophers  on  the  nature  of  a  continuum. 
For  the  most  part  these  views  have  been  deter- 
mined by  the  conception  of  infinite  divisibility  as 
the  sufficient  and  necessary  condition  of  con- 
tinuity. Even  Descartes  seems  to  have  been 
blinded  to  the  real  difficulties  of  the  subject  by 
his  familiarity  with  the  practice  of  employing  the 
symbols  of  Algebra  indifferently  to  denote  rational 
and  irrational  magnitudes.  He  appears  never  to 
have  asked  himself  what  conception  must  be 
formed  of  number,  if  we  are  to  recognize  such 
expressions  as  \/3,  %/2,  and  the  like  as  numbers, 
and  thus  his  Giometrie,  with  all  its  historical  im- 
portance, can  scarcely  be  called  a  contribution  to 
the  philosophy  of  Mathematics.  Nor  does  it  ap- 
pear that  the  continuity  which  he  claims  for 
matter  amounts  to  more  than  infinite  divisibility, 


the  absence  of  real  '  atoms  '  or  '  units '  of  exten- 
sion. Hobbes  explicitly  accepts  the  Aristotelian 
definition,  'Continua  inter  se  turn  spatia  turn 
tempora  duo  dicuntur,  quorum  est  aliqua  pars 
communis '  {de  Corpore,  vii.  10)  ;  '  Corpora  etiam 
duo  .  .  .  continua  dicuntur  eadem  ratione  qua 
duo  spatia '  (ib.  viii.  9).  Spinoza  even  reverts  to 
the  Eleatic  position,  according  to  which  extension, 
because  continuous,  is  not  really  divisible  at  all, 
and  is  supposed  to  have  parts  or  elements  only  by 
an  illusion  :  '  Substantia  absolute  infinita  est  in- 
divisibilis '  (Ethica,  i.  13) ;  '  ex  his  sequitur  .  .  . 
nullam  substantiam  corpoream,  quatenus  sub- 
stantia est,  esse  divisibilem '  (ib.  corollarium). 
Hence  he  infers  that  quantitas  is  divisible  only  so 
long  as  we  merely  imagine  it — i.e.  think  inaccurately 
about  it ;  when  we  form  the  concept  of  it,  we  see 
it  to  be  '  infinita,  unica,  et  indivisibilis '  (Ethica, 
i.  15,  schol.).  It  should  follow  that  we  can  form 
no  concept  of  a  plane,  a  straight  line,  or  a  point — 
a  conclusion  which  would  be  the  reductio  ad 
absurdum  of  Spinozism.  Similarly  Kant's  critical 
philosophy  throws  no  real  light  on  the  nature  of 
a  continuum.  Indeed,  if  we  take  seriously  the 
Aesthetik,  with  its  account  of  the  way  in  which 
the  mathematical  concepts  of  space  and  time  are 
generated,  we  shall  clearly  be  led  to  think  of  both 
as  composed  of  minima,  and  therefore  not  con- 
tinuous, though,  to  be  sure,  this  account  conflicts 
with  the  repeated  assertion  that  both  are  '  infinite 
given  wholes.'  (The  '  synthetic  unity  of  apper- 
ception '  cannot  help  us  here,  since  it  is  just  as 
much  manifested  in  the  counting  of  the  units  of  a 
group  of  '  discrete '  quanta  as  in  that  '  drawing ' 
of  a  line  of  which  Kant  has  so  much  to  say. )  So, 
when  we  are  told  in  the  account  of  the  '  Sche- 
matism of  the  pure  Concepts  of  the  Understand- 
ing '  that  if  we  think  of  any  number,  e.g.  5  01  500, 
tins  thought  is  '  the  representation  of  a  method 
for  representing  in  an  image  an  assemblage  con- 
formably to  a  certain  concept,'  we  see  at  once 
that  Kant  is  thinking  exclusively  of  the  natural 
integers,  which  do  not  form  a  continuum.  How  it 
can  be  true  that  '  the  pure  image  of  all  magni- 
tudes (quantorum)  of  the  outer  sense  is  space,  and 
that  of  all  objects  of  the  senses  in  general  is  time,' 
and  that  '  the  pure  schema  of  magnitude  (quanti- 
tatis)  as  a  concept  is  number,  which  is  a  repre- 
sentation which  comprehends  in  one  the  successive 
addition  of  one  to  one,'  remains  an  unsolved  mys- 
tery, unless  space  and  time  are  to  be  non-continu- 
ous ;  and  the  difficulty  is  only  increased  when 
Kant  goes  on  to  say  that  both  space  and  time  are 
'  quanta  continua  because  no  part  of  them  can  be 
given,  .  .  .  except  in  such  a  way  that  the  part 
is  once  more  a  space  or  a  time.'  Nothing  can 
conceal  the  fact  that  Kant  is  trying  to  combine 
Aristotle's  denial  that  a  o-vvex^  ean  consist  of 
minima  with  a  theory  which  requires  the  con- 
struction of  space  and  time  out  of  such  minima. 
He  even  repeats  in  this  very  connexion  the  old 
criterion  of  continuity,  that  it  is  '  that  property 
of  magnitudes  in  virtue  of  which  no  part  of  them 
is  the  minimum  (no  part  simple).'  It  is,  there- 
fore, not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  '  antinomies ' 
of  the  Transcendental  Dialectic  have  really  nothing 
to  do  with  the  problems  of  continuity.  What 
their  theses  presuppose  is  merely  the  summation 
of  infinite  series,  and  the  difficulties  Kant  pro- 
fesses to  find  in  such  a  summation  exist  just  as 
much  where  every  term  of  the  series  has  a  next 
term  as  where  it  has  not ;  e.g.  the  difficulty,  if 
there  is  one,  about  the  completion  of  the  synthesis 
exists  just  as  much  when  we  consider  2  as  the  sum 


of  the  series  1  +  -  +  -=-  + 
2      23 


1  + 


as  when 


we  ask  whether  the  '  world  had  a  beginning  in 
time,'  as  Hegel  correctly  saw.    In  principle,  Kant, 


96 


CONTINUITY 


like  Aristotle,   identifies  the   infinitely  divisible 
with  the  continuous. 

Hegel's  own  account  is  so  largely  coloured  by 
metaphor,  and  so  distorted  by  his  determination 
to  prove  that  every  concept  is  precisely  what  it 
is  not  (that,  e.g.,  perfect  continuity  and  absolute 
discreteness  are  the  same  thing),  that  it  is  far 
from  easy  to  say  what  his  real  meaning  is.  Since, 
however,  he  supposes  Kant's  second  antinomy 
(everything  must  be,  and  yet  cannot  be,  com- 
posed of  simple  elements)  to  be  concerned  with 
continuity  (Werke,  iii.  216),  he,  too,  presumably 
means  by  continuity  no  more  than  divisibility  ad 
infinitum.  His  enthusiastic  praise  of  Zeno,  and 
of  Aristotle's  treatment  of  the  problems  of  space, 
time,  and  motion,  points  to  the  same  conclusion 
(ib.  p.  227).  The  vagueness  of  Hegel's  notions 
may  be  seen  from  the  fact  that  he  actually  regards 
the  Anzahl,  or  cardinal  number,  of  a  group  as 
itself  a  group  of  '  units,'  and  asserts  that  it  is  at 
once  '  continuous  '  (because  it  is  one  group  among 
others)  and  '  discrete '  (because  it  is  a  group  of 
units  [ib.  p.  233  f.]). 

Leibniz  may  fairly  demand  separate  considera- 
tion, in  virtue  of  the  peculiar  stress  which  he  lays 
on  the  Principle  of  Continuity  as  fundamental, 
not  only  for  Mathematics,  but  for  Metaphysics. 
This  principle,  as  stated  by  him,  is  much  more 
than  an  assertion  of  the  continuity  of  space,  time, 
and  motion.  Since  his  philosophy  requires  a  de- 
nial of  the  validity  of  a  vacuum,  he  is  led  further 
to  maintain  the  continuity  of  matter  against  all 
forms  of  the  atomic  theory.  Further,  the  concep- 
tion is  regarded  as  holding  not  merely  of  phe- 
nomena, but  of  the  substances  or  *  monads,'  whose 
interrelations  and  internal  self-development  are 
the  reality  of  which  the  extended  and  temporal 
world  is  symbolical.  Keal  substances  form  a  con- 
tinuous hierarchy,  in  which  each  member  differs 
from  some  other  by  a  purely  infinitesimal  differ- 
ence. Or,  as  Leibniz  himself  states  the  principle 
in  a  letter  to  Malebranche,  dated  8th  Dec.  1692, 
'datis  ordinatis  etiam  quaesita  sunt  ordinata  et 
consentanea.'  Hence  the  absolute  continuity  of 
the  series  of  monads  has  the  continuity  of  the  vari- 
ous ficyiBri  as  an  immediate  consequence  (Couturat, 
Logique  de  Leibniz,  p.  233  ff.).  A  special  case  of 
this  principle  is  the  correspondence  between  soul 
and  body,  which  Leibniz  describes  as  follows 
Couturat,  Opusc.  et  frag.  p.  521) :  '  God  has  from 
the  beginning  constructed  soul  and  body  with 
such  skill  that  .  .  .  omnia  quae  in  uno  fiunt  per 
se  perfecte  respondeant  omnibus  quae  in  altero 
fiunt.'  As  to  the  nature  of  the  continuity  thus 
asserted,  we  learn  much  from  the  dialogue  on 
motion  composed  by  Leibniz  on  his  journey  of 
1676  to  visit  Spinoza  (op.  cit.  pp.  594-627).  The 
question  there  raised  is  whether  the  moment  at 
which  a  man  dies  may  be  regarded  as  at  once  the 
last  moment  at  which  he  is  alive  and  the  first  at 
which  he  is  dead  (as  it  must  be,  according  to  the 
Aristotelian  account  of  rb  a-vvexes).  To  say  that 
Aristotle's  view  is  correct  seems  to  violate  the  law 
of  contradiction  ;  to  reject  it  seems  to  imply  that 
two  moments — the  last  of  life  and  the  first  of 
death — are  immediately  adjacent,  and,  if  moments 
can  be  immediately  adjacent,  why  not  points  ? 
{ib.  p.  601).  But  we  are  thus  led  to  conceive  of 
extension  and  time  as  made  up  of  series  of  indi- 
visible points  and  moments  (ib.  p.  608),  and  find 
ourselves  involved  in  the  '  labyrinth  of  the  con- 
tinuum. '  For  we  are  forced  to  say  that  the  number 
of  points  in  the  side  of  a  square  is  infinite,  and, 
since  we  can  draw  one  and  only  one  parallel  from 
any  point  in  the  diagonal  to  a  given  side,  and 
since  this  parallel  cuts  two  of  the  sides'  of  the 
square  in  determinate  points,  the  diagonal  will 
contain  the  same  number  of  points  as  the  side, 


and  will  therefore  be  equal  to  it.  This  Leibniz 
regards  as  a  proof  that  the  line  cannot  be  an 
aggregate  of  points  (ib.  p.  611).  The  number  of 
points  in  each  will,  in  fact,  he  argues,  be  identical 
with  the  'number  of  all  numbers,'  since  in  both 
cases  it  is  infinite.  Leibniz's  way  out  of  the 
difficulty  is  to  deny  that  there  is  a  '  number  of  all 
numbers,'  since,  as  he  holds,  such  a  number,  if 
there  were  one,  would  be  the  greatest  possible 
integer,  but  there  is  no  greatest  possible  integer. 
Hence  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  ratio  of  one 
infinite  to  another  (ib.  p.  612  f. ),  and  no  assignable 
number  of  points  on  a  line.  There  are  as  many 
as  we  choose  to  take,  but  we  never  take  all  there 
are  to  take.  It  is,  indeed,  true  that  every  portion 
of  extended  matter  is  actually  infinitely  divided, 
but  it  is  divided  into  portions  which  are  them- 
selves continua,  not  into  points,  and  no  portion  is 
actually  divided  into  all  the  minor  parts  possible. 
Thus,  in  the  end,  Leibniz  adheres  to  the  position 
that  the  continuous  cannot  be  composed  of  simple 
elements,  and  it  is  for  this  very  reason  that  space 
and  time  and  motion  are  regarded  by  him  as 
merely  phenomenal,  since  the  real,  as  we  read  at 
the  beginning  of  the  Monadology,  must  be  com- 
posed of  simple  elements.  How  these  views  are 
to  be  reconciled  with  the  further  positions  that 
there  is  at  least  one  continuum,  that  of  the  monads 
themselves,  which  does  consist  of  simple  elements, 
and  that  order  in  space  is  phenomenal  of  the  order 
of  real  monads,  it  is  not  very  easy  to  see. 

4.  The  number-continuum  in  modern  Mathe- 
matics.— Under  this  head  it  is  impossible  to  say 
more  than  a  few  words  in  the  present  article.  The 
reader  who  wishes  for  more  information  may  be 
referred  to  the  works  mentioned  in  the  annexed 
bibliography,  especially  to  the  brief  and  luminous 
chapter  on  the  continuum  in  Couturat's  work,  Les 
Principes  des  mathimatiques.  As  we  have  seen, 
the  first  discovery  of  the  continuum  was  due  to 
the  discovery  of  incommensurable  magnitudes  in 
Geometry,  which  led  to  the  age-long  severance  of 
the  originally  united  studies  of  Arithmetic  and 
Geometry.  It  has  been  the  great  achievement  of 
the  modern  Theory  of  Assemblages  to  show  that 
the  number-system  is  so  far  from  being  inadequate 
to  cope  with  the  continuity  of  the  points  of  the 
straight  line  (the  so-called  '  linear  continuum ') 
that  the  only  precise  definition  of  continuity  we 
can  obtain  is  one  which  can  be  stated  in  terms 
involving  nothing  but  the  properties  of  ordered 
numerical  series,  and  that  the  only  certainly 
known  linear  continuum  is  that  of  the  '  real ' 
numbers.  In  other  words,  it  is  no  immediate 
datum  of  intuition  that  the  straight  line  is  abso- 
lutely continuous.  Its  continuity  is  postulated, 
not  intuited,  and  means  no  more  than  the  assump- 
tion that  there  are  on  every  terminated  straight 
line  as  many  distinct  points  as  there  are  distinct 
real  numbers  in  a  given  segment  of  the  number- 
series,  such  as  that  composed  of  all  the  '  real 
numbers  '  >0<1.  To  begin  with,  we  have  to  see 
that  none  of  the  old  familiar  criteria  of  continuity 
is  really  adequate  to  express  the  property  which 
we  have  in  mind  when  we  speak  of  the  continuous- 
ness  of  this  number-series.  It  is  clear  that  in- 
finite divisibility  is  no  such  criterion,  since  it 
gives  us  only  a  series  corresponding  to  that  of  the 
rational  fractions.  By  no  process  of  infinite  divi- 
sion of  a  unit  length  could  we  ever  arrive  at  such 

1         1 
quotients  as     /-j>      rg     This  corresponds  to  the 

arithmetical  consideration  that  the  complete  as- 
semblage of  rational  fractions  between  0  and  1 
does  not  form  a  continuous  series,  since  it  omits 
all  the  fractions  which  have  surds  for  their  numer- 
ator or  denominator  or  both.  Even  the  inclusion 
in  the  series  of  all  fractions   having  algebraical 


CONTINUITY 


97 


surds  in  their  numerator  or  denominator  would 
not  make  it  completely  continuous,  since  we 
should  still  have  no  place  left  for  the  infinitely 
numerous  fractions  involving  '  transcendental  ' 
numbers  in  their  numerator  or  denominator.  In 
fact,  it  is  possible  to  make  such  an  arrangement 
of  the  series  of  rational  fractions,  and  even  of 
algebraical  fractions,  that  each  term  of  the  series 
has  an  immediately  next  term.  In  other  words, 
both  series  can  be  so  arranged  that  each  member 
corresponds  in  order  to  one  and  only  one  member 
of  the  series  of  natural  integers,  1 ,  2,  3.  .  .  .  Their 
ordinal  number,  or  '  type  of  order,'  is  thus  the 
same  as  that  of  the  series  of  integers  itself.  Nor, 
again,  is  the  number-continuum  adequately  defined 
by  the  property  that  no  term  of  the  series  as  taken 
in  ascending  order  has  an  immediately  adjacent 
term.  For  this  would  obviously  be  true  of  the 
assemblage  of  rational  numbers,  and  again  of  that 
of  all  algebraic  numbers,  though  neither  of  these 
exhausts  the  whole  of  the  number-series.  The 
task  of  the  modern  theorist  is  thus  a  twofold  one. 
He  has  fust  to  formulate  a  satisfactory  definition 
nf  the  concept  '  real '  number,  showing  not  only 
how  the  assemblage  of  '  real '  numbers  is  logically 
related  to  that  of  integers  or  '  natural '  numbers, 
but  also  how  the  existence  of  the  '  real '  numbers 
follows  from  that  of  '  natural '  numbers.  Secondly, 
he  has  to  identify  the  peculiar  characteristics 
which  distinguish  the  whole  assemblage  of  '  real 
numbers '  from  those  of  '  natural '  or  '  rational ' 
or  '  algebraic '  numbers ;  that  is,  he  has  to  point 
out  the  criterion  of  the  continuity  of  a  series. 

It  is  the  achievement  of  Cantor  to  have  first 
stated  this  criterion  exactly,  and  afterwards  to 
have  re-cast  it  in  terms  involving  nothing  but  the 
notion  of  serial  order,  and  entirely  independent  of 
any  appeal  to  our  intuition  of  space.  We  can  here 
do  no  more  than  give  Cantor's  two  definitions  of  the 
linear  continuum  with  such  brief  explanation  as 
is  necessary  for  their  comprehension.  To  under- 
stand his  original  definition  we  have  first  to  make 
clear  the  meaning  of  the  terms  '  point  manifold,' 
'limiting  point,'  and  'derivative.'  By  a  'point 
manifold'  is  meant  any  aggregate  of  numerical 
values  whatsoever.  Any  '  point '  X  is  said  to  be 
a  '  limiting  point '  of  such  a  manifold  M,  if,  given 
a  finite  number  e,  however  small,  there  is  always 
at  least  one  '  point '  of  the  manifold  M  which  is  at 
a  finite  '  distance '  less  than  e  from  X.  (Such  a 
limiting  point  may,  or  again  may  not,  be  itself  a 
'point  of  M.)  The  'derivative'  of  M  is  the 
assemblage  formed  by  all  the  limiting  points  of  M. 
When  every  '  point '  of  M  is  one  of  the  limiting 
points  of  M,  and  every  limiting  point  of  M  also  a 
'  point '  of  M,  that  is,  when  the  manifold  M  is 
identical  with  its  own  '  derivative,'  M  is  said  to 
be  perfect.  Further,  M  is  said  to  be  zusammen- 
hangend,  or  '  cohesive,'  when,  if  any  two  points 
of  M,  p0,  p,  be  given,  it  is  always  possible  to  find 
in  M  any  finite  number  of  points  p1;  p,  .  .  .  p„  .  .  . 
intermediate  between  p0  and  p  such  that  the  dis- 
tances PtrPv  P1-P2  •  •  •  Pn-p  are  each  less  than  a 
given  finite  number  e,  nowever  small  e  may  be. 
The  definition  of  the  linear,  or  one-dimensional, 
continuum  is,  then,  that  it  is  a  '  point  manifold ' 
which  is  both  perfect  and  cohesive.  It  is  manifest 
that  the  series  of  '  real '  numbers  between  0  and  1 
satisfies  these  conditions,  and  that  the  removal  of 
even  a  single  term  from  it  would  prevent  this 
realization.  The  series  of  '  rational  fractions,'  on 
the  other  hand,  would  satisfy  the  demand  for 
cohesiveness,  but  would  not  be  '  perfect,'  since  the 
surd  fractions  are  obviously  limiting  points  of  the 
series  of  rational  fractions.  With  the  postulate 
that  to  every  real  number  from  0  to  1  we  can 
assign  one  and  only  one  corresponding  distance 
on  the  straight  line,  the  straight  line  is  also  obvi- 

VOL.  IV. — 7 


ously  a  linear  continuum  satisfying  the  definition 
(Couturat,  Principes,  p.  91  f.).  It  still,  however, 
remains  the  fact  that  Cantor's  first  definition  re- 
tains the  appearance  of  an  appeal  to  geometrical 
intuition.  The  notion  of  '  distance,'  in  however 
metaphorical  a  sense,  is  employed  in  explaining 
both  cohesion  and  perfectness.  And  this  means, 
as  Couturat  says,  that  the  definition  is  essentially 
relative.  '  It  defines  a  continuous  manifold  only 
by  reference  to  another  manifold  (metaphorically 
called  space),  which  is  already  continuous,  in 
which  it  may  have  limiting  points  not  contained 
in  itself  (op.  cit.  p.  92).  Hence  it  is  only  in 
Cantor's  second  definition,  where  no  notions  but 
those  of  serial  order  are  presupposed,  that  we  get 
'  an  absolute  definition  of  a  continuum  by  means 
of  its  intrinsic  properties.'  To  obtain  the  defini- 
tion, we  start  again  with  certain  auxiliary  con- 
ceptions. We  consider  the  type  of  order  exhibited 
by  the  rational  numbers  which  are  >0  and  <  1. 
This  series  has  three  peculiarities:  (1)  it  is  de- 
numerable,  that  is,  we  can  rearrange  its  terms  so 
that  they  correspond  one  to  one  with  the  suc- 
cessive integers  ;  (2)  it  has  neither  a  first  nor  a 
last  term ;  (3)  between  any  two  terms  there  is 
always  a  third  ;  and  these  three  characteristics 
are  proved  sufficient  for  the  complete  determina- 
tion of  the  type  of  order  exhibited  by  the  series. 
Any  series  possessing  them  may  then  be  called  a 
series  of  the  type  of  order  tj.  Next  we  have  to 
introduce  the  notion  of  what  Cantor  calls  a 
'  fundamental  series. '  We  may  confine  our  atten- 
tion to  the  case  of  an  ascending  fundamental 
series.  By  this  is  meant  a  series  in  which  the 
terms  have  the  type  of  order  t\  just  defined.  Such 
a  series  S  is  said  to  have  a  limit  in  j;,  if  there  is 
a  term  in  -r\  which  is  the  first  after  all  the  terms 
of  S.  We  then  call  any  manifold  perfect  if  all  the 
'  fundamental  series '  contained  in  it  have  a  limit 
in  it,  and  if  all  its  terms  are  limits  of  '  funda- 
mental series '  contained  in  it.  With  these  pre- 
suppositions, the  type  of  order  0,  belonging  to  a 
one-dimensional  continuum,  is  defined  as  follows  : 
'The  manifold  0  (1)  is  perfect,  and  (2)  contains 
within  itself  a  denumerable  manifold  E,  such  that 
there  is  always  at  least  one  term  of  E  between 
any  two  terms  of  0.'  The  definition  is  manifestly 
satisfied  by  the  series  of  '  real '  numbers,  since  it 
can  readily  be  shown  that  the  series  is  '  perfect ' 
in  the  sense  defined,  and  that,  moreover,  there  is 
always  at  least  one  term  of  the  series  of  the 
'  rational '  numbers  between  any  two  '  real '  num- 
bers (Couturat,  op.  cit.  p.  93  f.;  B.  Russell,  Prin- 
ciples of  Mathematics,  London,  1903,  vol.  i.  ch.  36). 
The  two  definitions  are  not  exactly  equivalent, 
since  we  can  construct  series  which  satisfy  the 
second  without  satisfying  the  first  {e.g.,  to  take 
an  example  from  Couturat,  the  manifold  composed 
of  the  real  numbers  <  1,  together  with  those  from 
2  to  3  inclusive,  satisfies  the  requirements  of  the 
'  ordinal '  definition,  but  not  those  of  the  other, 
since  there  is  always  a  finite  interval  >  1  between 
the  number  2  and  any  of  those  which  precede  it). 
But  every  assemblage  which  satisfies  the  first, 
or  '  relative,'  definition  clearly  also  satisfies  the 
second,  or  '  absolute.'  This  might  be  regarded 
as  a  gTound  for  doubting  whether  Cantor's  final 
result  is  quite  the  same  thing  as  an  analysis  of 
what  is  implicitly  contained  in  the  simple  pre- 
scientific  notion  of  continuity  as  unbrokenness. 
But  it  remains  true  that  his  analysis  succeeds  in 
defining  for  us,  by  means  of  purely  intrinsic  pro- 
perties, the  continuity  of  the  '  real  numbers,  and 
that  we  have  no  reason  to  think  that  Geometry 
requires  as  to  ascribe  any  different  kind  of  con- 
tinuity to  the  straight  line.  We  are  thus  finally 
enabled  to  remove  the  apparently  insuperable 
barrier  established   by  the  Eleatic  criticism  be- 


98 


CONTRACT 


tween  Geometry  and  the  theory  of  number.  Every 
geometrical  proposition  can  once  more  be  stated 
in  terms  which  involve  only  the  notions  with  which 
the  study  of  number  has  already  made  us  familiar. 
'This  fact,'  as  Couturat  says  (op.  cit.  p.  97), 
'  finally  refutes  all  the  doctrines  which  regard  the 
notion  of  the  continuous  as  arising  from  sensuous 
intuition  and  refractory  to  the  understanding.' 

Literature.1— i.  For  ancient  Philosophy  and  Mathe- 
ma  tics  :  Euclidis  Opera,  eaidit  et  Latine  interpretatus  est  J.  L. 
Heiberg,  Leipzig  [the  Elements  and  the  scholia  on  them  form 
vols.  i.-v.  of  this,  the  only  critical  edition,  1883-1888] ;  Prodi 
Diadochi  in  primum  Euclidis  Elementorum  Librum  Com- 
mentarii  ex  recogn.  G.  Friedlein,  Leipzig,  1873 ;  H.  Diels, 
Fragmente  der  VorsokratikerZ,  2  vols.,  Berlin,  1906-1910 ; 
Aristotle,  de  Lineis  Insecabilibus,  tr.  H.  H.  Joachim  (pt.  2 
of  The  Works  of  Aristotle,  Eng.  tr.,  Oxford,  Clarendon  Press, 
1908) ;  J.  Burnet,  Early  Greek  Philosophy'',  London  and 
Edinburgh,  1908 ;  G.  Milhaud,  Les  Philosophes-giometres  de 
la  Grece  :  Platon  et  ses  prddecesseurs,  Paris,  1900  ;  O.  Apelt, 
'  Die  Widersacher  der  Mathematik  im  Alterthum  '  (in  Beitrage 
zur  Gesch.  der  gr.  Philosophie,  pp.  253-287),  Leipzig,  1891 ; 
H.  G.  Zeuthen,  Hist,  des  mathtmatiques  dans  VantiquiU  et 
le  moyen  age,  Paris,  1902  (original  in  Danish,  Copenhagen,  1893). 
Reference  may  also  be  made  to  the  various  standard  works  on 
the  history  of  Mathematics  generally,  or  on  Greek  Mathematics 
in  particular,  especially  to  the  great  work  of  Moritz  Cantor, 
Vorlesungen  uber  Geschiehte  der  Mathematik,  Leipzig,  18S0 
(new  ed.  vol.  i.  1909). 

U.  For  modern  Phlt.osophy  :  Besides  the  collected  editions 
of  the  works  of  philosophers,  special  mention  may  be  made  of 
L.  Couturat,  Opuscules  et  fragments  inidils  de  Leibniz,  Paris, 
1903,  also  La  Logique  de  Leibniz  d'apres  des  documents  inidits, 
Paris,  1903  ;  B.  Russell,  Critical  Exposition  of  the  Philosophy 
of  Leibniz,  Cambridge,  1900,  also  '  Recent  Work  on  the  Philo- 
sophy of  Leibniz  '  (in  Mind,  new  series,  no.  46,  April  1903). 

lii.  Modern  developments  :  G.  Cantor,  '  Grundlagen 
einer  allgemeinen  Mannichfaltigkeitslehre '  (Mathematische 
Annalen,  xxi.  [1883]),  also  '  Beitrage  zur  Begriindung  der 
transfiniten  Mengenlehre '  (ib.  xlvi.  xlix.  [1895,  1897  ;  French 
tr.  by  Marotte,  Sur  lea  fondements  de  la  thiorie  des  ensembles 
transjinis,  Paris,  1899]) ;  R.  Dedekind,  Stetigkeil  und  irra- 
tionale  Zahlen\  Brunswick,  1892  ;  P.  du  Bois-Reymond,  Die 
aUgemeine  Funktionentheorie,  Tubingen,  1882 ;  L.  Couturat, 
De  VInAni  mathematique,  Paris,  1896  (see  esp.  Appendix  4,  on 
Cantor),  also  Les  Principes  des  mathe'matiques,  Paris,  1905 
(with  specially  valuable  Appendix  on  Kant's  Philosophy  of 
Mathematics) ;  A.  Schdnflies,  '  Die  Entwickelung  der  Lehre 
von  den  Punktmannigfaltigkeiten '  (Jahresber.  der  deutschen 
Mathematiker-  Vereinigung,  viii.  2,  Leipzig,  1900) ;  B.  Russell, 
The  Principles  of  Mathematics,  i.  Cambridge,  1903  ;  G.  Vivanti, 
Teoria  delle  funzioni  analitiche,  Milan,  1901  [pt.  i.  contains  a 
very  simple  and  lucid  exposition  of  the  main  principles  of  the 
Theory  of  Assemblages] ;  E.  W.  Hobson,  Theory  of  Functions 
of  a  Real  Variable,  Cambridge,  1907.  The  progress  actually 
made  in  the  re-arithmeticizing  of  pure  mathematics,  due  partly 
to  modern  research  into  the  notions  of  infinity  and  continuity, 
and  partly  to  the  development  of  symbolic  logic,  can  be  traced 
in  the  successive  volumes  of  G.  Peano,  Formulaire  de  Mathe'- 
matiques, Turin,  1901.  The  latest  edition,  reckoned  as  vol.  v.  of 
the  complete  work,  appeared  in  1908  with  the  title  Formulario 
Matematico,  the  necessary  verbal  explanations  and  annotations 
to  the  logical  symbols  in  which  the  propositions  are  written 
being  now  given  in  what  the  author  calls  an  'uninfected 
Latin,'  and  not  in  French,  as  was  the  case  in  the  earliest 

editions.  A.  E.  Taylor. 

CONTRACT.— i.  Definition.— If  one  makes 
an  engagement  to  go  to  dinner  at  a  friend's  house, 
ao  contract  arises,  because  the  purpose  of  the 
engagement  is  not  such  that  the  law  will  deal  with 
it  j  or  again,  if  one  buys  an  article  in  a  shop  for 
ready  money,  that  is  not  usually  termed  a  contract, 
because  there  the  whole  transaction  is  terminated, 
as  it  were,  on  the  instant ;  but,  if  one  undertakes 
to  pay  for  the  article  afterwards,  a  continuing 
contract  emerges,  because,  in  this  case,  the  agree- 
ment gives  rise  to  an  undertaking  which  can  be 
appropriately  enforced  by  law.  From  these 
examples  we  see  that  contract  is  really  the 
combination  of  two  legal  ideas — that  of  agreement 
and  that  of  obligation.  In  the  ease  of  the  invita- 
tion to  dinner  there  is  agreement,  but  no  legal 
obligation  connected  with  it ;  in  the  case  of  the 
sale  of  goods  for  ready  money,  the  obligation  fades 
away  as  soon  as  it  arises.  But,  according  to  the 
Indian  Contract  Act,  for  example,  '  an  agreement 
enforceable  by  law  is  a  contract^  (Sect.  2  (h)) ;  and, 
where  we  find  such  an  agreement,  we  find  a  legal 
1  The  ordinary  collected  texts  of  ancient  and  modern  philo- 
sophers have  been  omitted  from  this  list. 


tie,  an  obligation,  something  for  the  law  to  take 
hold  of,  directly  affecting  the  contracting  parties. 
In  other  words,  the  agreement,  as  it  has  been  put, 
'  contemplates  something  to  be  done  or  forborne  by 
one  or  more  of  the  parties  for  use  of  the  others  or 
other,'  to  which  the  law  can  attach  itself ;  and  it 
is  generally  said  that  it  must  be  the  intention,  or 
implied  intention,  of  the  parties  that  the  relation 
should  have  a  legally  binding  effect.  Sir  Frederick 
Pollock,  writing  with  reference  to  the  English  law, 
adds  to  the  word  'agreement'  the  word  'promise' 
(Principles  of  Contract7,  1902,  pp.  2,  3,  5).  But 
that  is  a  minor  subtlety.  Theoretically,  at  least, 
we  can  fix  our  attention  on  an  agreement  as  the 
starting-point  in  which  there  must  be,  as  it  is 
frequently  stated,  the  meeting  of  two  minds  in  one 
and  the  same  intention.  And  thus  the  more 
technical  treatment  of  contract  fits  into  those 
statements  of  the  doctrine  in  which  it  is  regarded 
as  a  phase  of  the  legal  will,  constantly  to  be  found 
in  the  works  of  philosophical  jurists — especially 
German  jurists.  The  relation  represents  the 
meeting  of  individual  wills  in  one  intention,  as 
opposed  to  the  individual's  endeavours  to  realize 
his  will  by  means  of  the  materials  found  in  the 
world  around  him,  which  gives  rise,  logically,  to 
the  conception  of  property.  In  the  former  case, 
the  individual  meets  his  fellows  ;  in  the  latter,  the 
external,  material  world. 

It  has,  however,  been  suggested  that  it  is  not 
necessary,  in  order  that  a  contract  should  be 
entered  into,  that  the  wills  of  the  parties  should 
be  really  at  one  (Holland,  Jurisprudence10,  1906, 
ch.  xii.).  Should  we  not  say,  it  is  argued,  that 
here  emphatically  the  law  regards  not  the  will  in 
itself,  but  the  will  as  manifested  voluntarily? 
There  are  well-founded  expectations  which  the  law 
endeavours  to  protect  by  its  enforcement  of  con- 
tract, and  these  do  not  always  arise  from  expressions 
which  truly  represent  the  intention.  What  of  the 
case  in  which  a  party  enters  into  a  contract,  resolved 
all  the  time  not  to  perform  his  part,  yet  inducing 
another  party  to  enter  into  it  on  the  contrary 
supposition  1  Surely  the  contract  will  hold  good. 
Is  it  not  the  will,  as  expressed,  and  nothing  more, 
that  the  law  regards,  leaving  the  question  of  a  true 
consensus  on  one  side,  as  beyond  its  province 
altogether  ?  The  language  of  positive  systems  of 
law,  it  is  said,  moreover,  is  ambiguous  on  the 
point ;  for  the  question  is  practically  a  new  one, 
and  it  has  not  till  recently  been  seriously  con- 
sidered how  far  a  true  consensus,  in  the  significance 
explained  above,  is  needed.  In  answer  to  this 
doctrine,  it  may  be  maintained  that,  although  the 
inner  agreement  is  a  fact  to  be  proved,  and  in  some 
cases  is  not  allowed  to  be  disproved,  the  agreement 
itself  is  vital  to  the  theory  of  contract.  The 
inference  drawn  is  that  there  was  an  agreement ; 
and  such  inferences  depend  for  their  reasonable- 
ness and  usefulness  on  the  fact  that  in  the  vast 
majority  of  cases  they  are  sound.  Without 
reference  to  the  will — to  the  inner  intention,  if  one 
chooses — the  expression  of  agreement  would  be 
meaningless.  It  must  in  the  last  resort  be  con- 
nected with  the  man,  with  the  personality ;  and 
not  merely  attach  itself  to  outward  forms  of 
expression.  Unless  this  is  done,  we  obtain  a  view 
of  contract  which  is  too  scholastic  to  be  satisfactory. 

The  two  main  aspects  of  the  agreement  by  which 
the  tie  is  created  find  their  typical  form  in  the 
ideas  of  offer  and  acceptance,  which  give  rise  to 
a  large  body  of  law  in  a  developed  system.  On 
the  other  hand,  such  facts  as  error,  fraud,  mis- 
representation, undue  influence,  and  force  operate 
on  the  consent  embodied  in  the  agreement,  and 
may  vitiate  it  wholly,  or  create  a  flaw  which 
renders  it  reducible  from  one  side.  These  are  most 
usefully  studied  in  relation  to  some  definite  legal 


CONTRACT 


system.  Again,  the  State  itself  places  certain 
legal  restraints  upon  contract  generally,  with 
regard  to  its  subject-matter;  these  are  more 
important  from  the  standpoint  of  the  general 
reader.  In  Pollock's  work  on  Contract,  agree- 
ments are  said  in  English  law  to  be  unlawful 
and  void  (1)  if  the  matter  or  purpose  with  which 
they  deal  is  contrary  to  positive  law ;  (2)  if  it  is 
contrary  to  positive  morality  recognized  as  such 
by  law  ;  (3)  if  it  is  contrary  to  the  common  welfare, 
as  tending  to  prejudice  the  State  in  its  external 
relations,  or  in  its  internal  relations,  or  as  tending 
to  improper  or  excessive  interference  with  the 
lawful  actions  of  individual  citizens  (op.  cit.  275). 
And  we  may  say  generally  that  the  State  will 
refuse  to  recognize  a  contract  not  only  when  it  is 
simply  illegal  (without  further  explanation  being 
offered),  but  also  when  the  object  is  contra  bonos 
mores,  or  when  it  is  against  '  public  policy '  and 
cannot  be  allowed  free  scope  in  the  State's  own 
organization.  In  the  case  of  public  policy,  the 
disputable  points  which  arise  are  numerous,  and 
the  dividing  lines  between  what  the  State  should, 
and  what  it  should  not,  do  are  extremely  difficult 
to  find.  Then  we  may  couple  with  such  restraints 
the  complicated  subject  of  form.  The  modern 
tendency  is  towards  simplicity  of  form.  Com- 
plexity is  undoubtedly  repugnant  to  the  spirit  of 
our  own  days,  when  the  bustle  of  commercial 
enterprise  demands  essentials  and  nothing  but 
essentials.  A  complicated  form,  however,  prevents 
a  bargain  from  being  rashly  made,  and  it  renders 
it  easier  to  prove  afterwards  what  has  taken  place. 
The  tendency  to  reduce  the  '  solemn  form '  can 
have  free  scope  only  so  far  as  is  possible  with  a 
due  regard  to  the  exigencies  of  proof. 

ii.  CLASSIFICATION. — Contracts  have  very  fre- 
quently been  divided  into  principal  and  accessory  ; 
and  this  division  is  a  good  one.  It  is  not  so  clear 
that  the  division  of  the  first  class  into  onerous  and 
gratuitous,  often  made,  is  equally  useful  (although 
Kant  declared  that  it  was  the  rational  one) ;  for 
principal  contracts  seem  rather  to  fall  into  several 
distinct  groups.  The  following  list  will  afford  the 
reader  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  field  of  modern 
contract.  It  follows  mainly  the  arrangement 
given  by  Holland  in  his  Jurisprudence. 

I.  Principal  contracts. — Principal  contracts  are 
those  which  are  entered  into,  so  to  speak,  for  their 
own  sake,  as  opposed  to  accessory  contracts. 

(1)  Contracts  of  alienation. — These  may  be 
gratuitous,  when  they  are  contracts  to  give,  but 
are  not  generally  so.  In  fact,  a  contract  to  give 
is  generally  enforceable  by  law  only  in  certain 
limited  cases.  But  gifts  made  in  view  of  marriage 
are  not  considered  as  mere  gifts,  for  marriage  is  an 
onerous  consideration.  Then  under  this  head  fall 
barter  and  exchange,  when  regarded  as  contracts  ; 
and,  more  important,  sale.  A  distinct  line  should 
be  drawn  between  barter  and  sale  ;  the  essence  of 
sale  seems  to  be,  in  the  simplest  words,  the  giving 
of  something  for  money.  Specific  formalities  are 
generally  imposed  upon  contracts  for  sale  of 
certain  important  classes  of  property,  such  as  the 
res  mancipi  of  the  Roman  Law,  'real  property,' 
immoveables.  Apart  from  these,  perhaps  the  most 
important  variation  in  the  views  taken  of  the 
contract  by  different  legal  systems  is  connected 
with  the  transfer  of  the  property  sold.  Sometimes 
a  contract  of  sale,  in  the  usual  case,  per  se,  transfers 
the  property — it  has  the  power  of  transference  by 
itself.  Sometimes  it  has  no  such  legal  consequence  ; 
it  remains  an  agreement  to  transfer  merely.  The 
parties  to  the  contract,  again,  may  have  various 
duties,  but  two  of  them  are  generally  recognized. 
The  duty  of  the  seller  is  to  deliver  the  goods,  and 
the  duty  of  the  purchaser  is  to  accept  and  pay  for 
them      These  duties,  regarded  from  the  point  of 


view  of  rights,  yield  the  main  rights  of  purchaser 
and  seller. 

(2)  Contracts  dealing  with  hiring,  loan,  etc.- — 
Hiring  has  largely  superseded  gratuitous  loan  ; 
and  the  law  of  hiring  has  been  extended  in  many 
directions.  Two  important  branches  of  it  in  the 
commercial  world  are  contracts  for  carriage  and 
agency.  Both  in  commercial  and  in  domestic  life  we 
find  contracts  for  the  hire  of  servants  engaging 
much  attention.  As  regards  immoveables,  hiring 
is  generally  guarded  by  specific  restrictions.  In  a 
loan  for  consumption,  we  find  money  or  certain 
kinds  of  things  given  to  the  opposite  party  on  the 
undertaking  that  he  shall  on  a  future  day  return, 
not  necessarily  the  things  themselves,  but  their 
equivalent  in  kind.  It  is  in  connexion  with  this 
branch  of  the  law  that  the  interesting  problems  of 
how  to  treat  usury  from  the  legal  point  of  view 
arise.  In  a  loan  for  use,  again,  which  is  in  essence 
gratuitous,  the  identical  thing  lent  is  returned. 
In  deposit,  one  gives  a  thing  to  another  in  order 
that  the  latter  may  keep  it  for  him  gratuitously 
and  restore  it  upon  demand. 

It  will  be  observed  that  this  group  of  contracts 
is  very  miscellaneous.  Holland  has  attempted  to 
minimize  the  confusiou  by  making  the  two  principal 
divisions  of  (a)  contracts  for  permissive  use,  and 
(b)  contracts  for  service.  In  the  first  class  (a)  he 
places  (1)  loan  for  consumption  ;  (2)  loan  for  use  ; 
and  (3)  'letting  for  hire.'  In  the  second  (b)  he 
places  contracts  (1)  for  care-taking ;  (2)  for  doing 
work  on  materials ;  (3)  for  carriage ;  (4)  for  pro- 
fessional or  domestic  services ;  (5)  for  agency ;  (6) 
for  partnership.  Then,  under  a  separate  head  (c)  he 
places  contracts  for  negative  services,  in  which  one 
party  undertakes  to  abstain  from  certain  acts — a 
mode  of  contract  somewhat  grudgingly  recognized 
by  law.  This  procedure  helps  to  introduce  some 
order  into  the  mass  of  almost  intractable  material ; 
although,  for  example,  it  places  contracts  for 
partnership  under  contracts  for  service — a  doubtful 
arrangement.  The  reader,  however,  may  certainly 
begin  by  taking  the  whole  of  the  large  class  of 
contracts  with  which  we  are  dealing  as  capable  of 
being  split  up  into  three  divisions — permissive  use, 
service,  negative  service — although  he  may  after- 
wards come  to  consider  the  principles  of  grouping 
somewhat  strained.  Partnership,  which  is  thus 
disposed  of  under  'service,'  is  said  to  be  the 
relation  which  subsists  between  persons  carrying 
on  a  business  in  common,  with  a  view  of  profit 
(Partnership  Act,  1890) ;  and  the  law  of  partner- 
ship widens  out  into  the  whole  law  of  Joint  Stock 
Companies. 

Agency  deserves  special  notice.  It  is  itself  a 
contract,  as  has  been  pointed  out ;  but  it  is  also  an 
important  instrument  in  extending  the  power  of 
contract.  It  enables  us,  as  it  were,  to  move 
objects  at  a  distance.  Through  it,  the  contractor 
can  work  at  the  other  side  of  the  world.  In  the 
ordinary  use  of  the  term,  agency  is  constituted 
where  one  person  is  employed  to  act  for  another 
— to  represent  him  in  dealings  with  third  per- 
sons. A  distinction  between  a  general  and  a 
special  agent  is  often  made ;  but  it  is  of  doubtful 
value  logically ;  it  seems  to  be  most  consistently 
drawn  between  an  agent  whose  business  has  a 
defined  scope  and  character,  apart  from  the  terms 
of  his  agreement  with  his  principal,  and  one  who 
is  merely  empowered  to  do  certain  specific  acts. 
The  main  logical  point  to  be  noticed  in  the  law  of 
agency  is  that,  when  the  agent  contracts  as  an 
agent  with  third  parties,  he  binds  his  principal, 
and  then,  so  to  speak,  drops  out  of  the  transaction. 
If  he  binds  himself,  he  is  something  more  than  a 
mere  agent ;  and  any  exceptions  are  modifications 
of  the  general  principle.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
must  be  noticed  that  the  agent  does  not  really  act 


100 


CONTRACT 


as  the  blind  instrument  of  his  principal,  as  the  pen 
or  the  hand  acts.  His  real  usefulness  arises  from 
his  being  an  intelligent  instrument,  and  without 
the  help  of  such  intelligent  instruments  many  of 
the  tasks  of  modern  commerce  would  be  quite 
impossible. 

(3)  Contracts  of  marriage. — But  marriage  is  only 
technically  and  in  a  somewhat  strained  sense  a 
contract.  No  doubt  it  cannot  be  entered  into 
without  the  consent  of  at  least  two  parties.  But 
the  relationship  stands  by  itself ;  and  even  in  a 
system  of  law,  like  that  of  Scotland,  which  favours 
the  contractual  construction,  there  are  grave 
difficulties  in  regarding  it  as  a  contract  in  anything 
more  than  a  very  technical  sense.  In  contract, 
the  tendency  is  to  allow  the  contracting  parties 
to  attach  what  conditions  they  please  to  their 
bargain,  provided  these  are  not  against  '  good 
morals '  or  '  public  policy ' ;  it  may  be  conditional 
in  its  origin,  and  its  duration  is  dependent  on  the 
will  of  the  parties.  In  marriage  these  features  are 
not  present.  When  it  is  entered  into,  it  is  not 
governed  by  private  contract  in  its  most  important 
particulars,  but  by  the  fixed  rules  of  the  law  of 
husband  and  wife.  It  cannot  be  entered  into  on 
condition  that  a  certain  event  shall  happen,  or  that 
it  shall  be  dissolvable  at  pleasure,  or  that  it  shall 
last  for  a  certain  fixed  period  of  time.  The  relation 
between  the  two  persons,  also,  extends  an  influence 
to  their  relatives  and  maintains  that  influence 
even  after  death  ends  the  marriage.  The  husband 
and  wife  create  not  only  their  own  status,  but  the 
status  of  their  children  ;  and  that  status  can  never 
be  taken  away  or  infringed  by  the  acts  of  the 
parties  (Fraser,  Husband  and  Wife2,  1876,  ch.  ii.). 
buch  considerations,  primarily  applicable  to  Scots 
Law,  show  us  how  marriage  must  be  differentiated 
from  an  ordinary  contract.  Of  course,  it  may  be 
said  that  all  these  restrictions  are  made  merely 
with  the  object  of  maintaining  '  good  morals '  and 
furthering  '  public  policy.'  But  the  whole  tendency 
of  contract  is  to  leave  the  parties  as  far  as  possible 
to  shape  their  own  bargain  ;  and,  where  we  have 
a  relation  so  governed  in  its  essentials  by  the  law 
— so  restricted  to  meet  the  needs,  as  the  law  con- 
ceives them,  of  family  life — as  marriage  is,  it  is 
only  in  a  very  peculiar  and,  as  we  have  said, 
technical  sense  that  it  can  be  called  contractual. 
It  derives  its  type  not  from  the  contracting  parties, 
but  from  moral  and  social  considerations,  which 
are  held  to  be  superior  to  their  wishes ;  and  these 
considerations  not  only  restrict  it,  but  shape  it. 

A  distinction  must,  of  course,  be  drawn  between 
an  engagement  to  marry  in  the  future — an 
'  engagement '  in  popular  language  —  and  an 
engagement  which  actually  amounts  to  a  marriage. 
The  former  more  nearly  approaches  a  contract  of 
the  ordinary  type  than  the  latter,  provided  it  is 
recognized  by  the  system  of  law  which  governs  it 
as  a  fit  subject  for  legal  interference.  When  that 
is  the  case,  we  find  unfulfilled  engagements 
frequently  giving  rise  to  actions  for  breach  of 
promise  of  marriage.  On  the  whole,  such  actions 
seem  to  be  discouraged  by  the  systems  of  law  in 
vogue  on  the  Continent ;  and  many  jurists  are  of 
opinion  that  they  ought  to  he  abolished  in  our  own 
country.  But  this  opinion,  it  should  be  noted, 
does  not  imply  that  actions  for  seduction  should  be 
discontinued. 

(4)  Wagering  contracts. — This  is  an  unfortunate 
name  for  an  important  group.  In  these  contracts, 
one  of  the  effects  of  the  contract,  as  regards  profit 
and  loss,  either  for  all  the  parties,  or  for  some  of 
them,  depends  upon  an  uncertain  event.  But  it  is 
almost  impossible  to  define  them  satisfactorily ; 
and  that  statement  must  be  taken  as  merely 
explanatory.  Broadly,  bets  and  stakes  are  not 
enforceable   in   modern  law.     And  the   most  im- 


portant group  under  the  general  head  is  formed  by 
contracts  of  insurance — marine,  fire,  and  life 
insurance,  and  less  important  types.  Of  course, 
these  are  not  logically  gambling  transactions,  but 
are  rather  attempts  to  eliminate  the  risks  of  the 
unforeseen. 

2.  Accessory  contracts. — There  is  a  large 
number  of  contracts  which  may  be  entered  into  as 
accessory  to  the  main  transaction ;  and  these 
form,  as  previously  stated,  a  second  main  branch 
of  the  subject.  It  may  suffice  to  name  a  few  of 
them — indemnity,  suretyship,  warranty,  ratifica- 
tion. A  promissory  note  forms  such  a  contract. 
Suretyship  is  in  many  systems  a  formal  contract ; 
and  the  guarantee  may  sometimes  support  an 
obligation  which  is  merely  natural,  i.e.,  which  itself 
cannot  be  enforced — a  curious  point. 

3.  There  are  certain  legal  relations  placed  on 
the  borders,  as  it  were,  of  contract  proper,  which 
must  not  be  forgotten.  Thus  the  Indian  Contract 
Act  speaks  of  certain  relations  resembling  those 
created  by  contract.  Broadly  speaking,  they 
correspond  to  the  Roman  division  of  obligations 
which  arise  not  ex  contractu,  but  quasi  ex  contractu. 
They  may,  therefore,  be  described  as  quasi- 
contracts  ;  they  have  also  been  called  '  implied 
contracts ' ;  but  it  is  perhaps  better  to  reserve  this 
name  for  those  cases  where  the  implication  is  most 
clearly  seen.  They  are,  at  any  rate,  analogous  to 
contract ;  for  it  is  necessary,  in  following  out  the 
ramifications  of  a  legal  system,  to  hold  that  a 
nexus  analogous  to  that  of  contract  is  sometimes 
created  from  force  of  circumstances,  though  not 
by  express  agreement.  Often  the  person  bound 
may  reasonably  be  held  to  have  agreed  to  the 
formation  of  the  tie,  but  that  is  not  perhaps 
essential  in  all  circumstances.  Thus  the  doctrine 
of  negotiorum  gestio  consists,  in  principle,  in  the 
management  of  the  affairs  of  an  absent  person  (or 
sometimes  of  a  person  merely  unable  to  attend  to 
his  affairs  himself)  by  one  who  undertakes  that 
task  without  the  knowledge  of  the  other ;  and,  it 
is  not  infrequently  stated,  on  the  presumption  that 
the  other,  had  he  known  the  circumstances,  would 
have  approved.  There  does  not  seem  to  be  any 
peculiar  difficulty  in  treating  of  such  relations, 
except  that  they  do  not  yield  very  readily  to 
analytic  classification. 

iii.  Extinction  of  contracts.— Contracts 
may  be  extinguished  in  various  ways — by  perform- 
ance, by  such  legal  facts  as  events  which  excuse 
performance,  or  by  release  of  performance.  Or 
there  may  be  a  substitute  for  performance  inter- 
jected ;  or  it  may  simply  happen  that  the  non- 
performance of  the  contract  alters  the  whole  aspect 
of  affairs  and  gives  rise  to  a  new  set  of  rights. 
Performance  is  the  natural,  and  undoubtedly  also 
the  usual,  mode  of  closing  the  transaction. 

iv.  Social  bearing  of  contracts.— Contract, 
standing  as  it  does  at  the  centre  of  the  great 
department  of  Private  Law,  has  many  important 
bearings  on  the  general  problems  of  society.  It 
forms  an  endeavour  made  by  the  State  to  set  up  a 
sanction  for  expectations  of  good  faith  which  have 
grown  up  through  the  dealings  of  the  averagely 
fair-minded  man.  True,  it  has  been  suggested 
that  contract  is  merely  the  taking  of  a  risk,  since 
the  only  universal  consequence  of  a  contract  is  to 
make  the  defaulter  pay  damages  ;  but,  as  already 
pointed  out,  it  is  the  observance  of  contract  that  is 
usually  contemplated ;  it  is  performance,  and  not 
payment  of  damages,  that  makes  the  social  wheels 
go  round.  And  the  State,  having  brought  its 
sanction  to  bear  on  this  enormous  mass  of  relations, 
finds  itself  compelled  to  interpose  certain  restric- 
tions— to  lay  down  those  limitations  of  which  we 
have  spoken  before.  What  precisely  these  ought 
to  be,  and  how  they  ought  to  operate,  depends  on 


CONTROVERSY 


101 


many  different  social  considerations.  Is  the  ex- 
ploitation of  the  individual  by  his  fellows — the 
driving  of  a  hard  bargain  wrung  from  a  man's 
necessity,  when  his  poverty,  but  not  his  will, 
consents,  or  the  over-reaching  of  one  not  worldly- 
wise — a  fit  matter  for  State  interference?  Are 
combinations  of  ■  labour '  to  be  recognized  wholly 
or  partially,  or  altogether  condemned  ?  Are 
contracts  for  service  to  be  regulated,  when  the 
claims  which  arise  under  them  bid  fair  to  reduce 
one  party  to  the  position  of  existing  merely  as  an 
instrument  for  the  realization  of  another's  person- 
ality instead  of  being  an  end  in  himself  ?  Slavery, 
it  is  certain,  cannot  now  be  tolerated  ;  but  how  far 
will  the  law,  if  it  attempts  to  abolish  various  forms 
of  so-called  practical  slavery,  accomplish  good,  or 
how  far  will  it  merely  afford  encouragement  to 
laziness  and  fraud?  These  questions  and  many 
others  are  among  the  implications  of  contract, 
though  doubtless  they  lead  us  far  beyond  the 
subject  of  contract  itself.  Probably  most  of  them 
must  be  answered,  not  abstractly,  but  in  relation 
to  the  particular  community  with  which  we  have 
for  the  time  being  to  deal.  What  is  one  man's 
freedom  is  another  man's  ruin.  The  character  and 
state  of  social  advancement  of  the  community  must 
always  be  taken  into  consideration.  But,  however 
that  may  be,  the  importance  of  the  great  branch 
of  law  which  deals  with  the  right  to  another  man's 
conduct  can  never  be  safely  ignored. 

Literature. — In  addition  to  the  works  mentioned  in  the 
text,  the  following  may  be  consulted  :  W.  R.  Anson,  Principles 
of  the  English  Law  of  Contract  11,  1906  ;  G.  J.  Bell,  Principles 
of  the  Law  of  Scotland  10,  1899,  for  the  Scots  Law  ;  F.  Pollock, 
First  Book  of  Jurisprudence,  1896,  pt.  i.  ch.  8 ;  Kant,  Philo- 
sophy of  Law,  Eng.  tr.  1887,  sect.  31 ;  W.  A.  Watt,  Theory  of 
Contract  in  its  Social  Light,  1897.  W.  A.  WATT. 

CONTROVERSY.— I.  The  term  'controversy' 
is  not  exclusively  applied  to  the  weapon  with 
which  battles  have  been  fought  in  the  field  of 
theology  and  philosophy,  and  skill  in  disputation 
has  not  been  valued  by  professed  dialecticians 
alone.  Professor  Edward  Caird  tells  us  that  the 
philosopher  Kant  was  keenly  alive  to  the  uses  of 
controversial  methods  as  a  mental  training,  and 
that  in  the  year  1758  he  announced  to  his  class  on 
metaphysics  that  on  two  days  in  the  week  he 
would  treat  polemically  the  doctrines  expounded 
on  previous  days,  this  being  '  one  of  the  most 
excellent  means  to  attain  to  profound  views  of 
any  question '  {Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant,  i.  162). 
This  polemical  method  consisted  in  first  proving  a 
proposition  and  then  trying  to  prove  its  opposite 
— an  exercise  of  the  intellect  to  which  attention 
has  often  been  devoted  in  schools  of  learning,  with 
a  view  to  cultivating  a  high  standard  of  contro- 
versial ability.  To  Kant  it  did  not  so  much  bring 
dialectic  skill  as  rivet  into  the  attitude  of  criti- 
cism a  mind  already  critical,  even  sceptical.  The 
essential  thing  for  him,  as  for  Socrates,  was  the 
problem  of  knowledge,  the  limitations  of  our 
knowing,  the  question  how  far  we  can  know 
anything  at  all.  So  throughout  life  he  practised 
earnestly  the  polemical  method  which  he  recom- 
mended to  his  students,  using  it  as  a  touchstone 
to  test  what  is  knowable  and  expose  the  illusions 
of  the  understanding.  To  this  attitude  of  mind, 
this  deep-seated  love  of  inquiry  and  discussion,  we 
owe  what  is  considered  the  greatest  system  of 
philosophy  of  modern  times — a  philosophy  critical 
alike  in  spirit  and  in  name. 

2.  The  Kantian  'dialectic,'  however,  is  not  a 
new  phenomenon  in  the  history  of  philosophical 
thought.  In  the  connotation  which  it  bears  for 
him,  that  of  an  arguing  for  and  against,  Kant 
inherited  the  term  from  the  Stoics  and  Aristotle. 
But  the  practice  of  dialectic  is  to  be  connected 
with  the  name  of  Socrates.     As  friendly  discussion 


in  the  market-place  about  the  ethical  problems 
which  alone  were  of  interest  or  moment  to  him, 
Socrates  held  it  to  be  the  ideal  method  of  philo- 
sophizing. He  thought  that  there  were  answers, 
more  or  less  definite,  to  these  questions,  and  that 
this  was  the  way  in  which  the  answers  were  to 
be  got.  This  earnest  conviction,  this  seeking  after 
truth  in  the  belief  that  it  is  to  be  found,  is  one  of 
the  essential  respects  in  which  Socrates  is  to  be 
distinguished  from  the  class  of  professional  Sophists 
to  which,  in  the  eye  of  the  ordinary  Athenian,  he 
undoubtedly  belonged.  These  men  were  in  the 
first  place  teachers  of  argument  and  rhetoric,  and 
regarded  disputation  of  this  kind  as  an  end  in 
itself.  They  argued  in  order  to  show  their  pupils 
how  arguing  should  be  done ;  they  talked  for 
victory.  But  they  did  not  stop  here.  They  were 
from  some  points  of  view  extremists  in  philosophy, 
and  they  often  took  up  a  concept  or  idea  with  the 
deliberate  purpose  of  showing  it  to  be  full  of  con- 
tradictions, and  hence  unthinkable.  The  Sophist 
did  not  hesitate  to  tackle  any  question,  or,  as 
Aristotle  would  say,  to  '  talk  persuasively '  on  any 
subject.  As  the  exponents  and  popularizers  of  an 
esoteric  philosophy — they  were  not  for  the  most 
part  originators  of  new  doctrine — they  raised  prob- 
lems in  the  spheres  of  ethics,  politics,  and  religion, 
debating  freely,  in  a  spirit  of  tolerant  scepticism, 
questions  the  mere  discussion  of  which  in  the 
eyes  of  the  old-fashioned  was  not  only  new,  but 
impious  and  depraving.  Like  Abelard,  who  has 
been  called  the  mediseval  counterpart  of  such  a 
teacher  as  Protagoras,  the  Sophist  at  his  best,  they 
thought  that  every  question  could  be  argued  for 
and  against,  or  in  Abelard's  phrase,  sic  et  non. 
To  them  none  was  sacred.  At  the  first  glance, 
criticism  of  this  kind  seemed  wholly  destructive ; 
many  of  its  immediate  effects  were  undeniably 
pernicious.  But  this  beating  about,  this  disputing 
and  overturning,  was  of  supreme  value,  not  only 
in  the  interests  of  education,  but  also  in  the 
narrower  field  of  dialectic.  It  was  owing  to  the 
Sophists  mainly  that  Aristotle  was  able  to  draw 
attention  to  a  clearly  marked  difference  in  the 
matter  of  our  thought.  He  saw  that  relatively 
few  problems  belong,  like  those  of  mathematics, 
to  the  sphere  of  what  is  strictly  demonstrable,  and 
that  beyond  this,  on  the  vast  mass  of  questions 
which  puzzle  and  interest  mankind,  we  can  have 
discussion,  but  can  never  have  certainty. 

3.  It  was,  however,  in  the  Middle  Ages  that 
dialectic  or  discussion  in  the  Platonic  and  Aris- 
totelian sense  became  professedly  the  vehicle  of 
philosophical  inquiry.  Bound  as  they  were  at 
every  step  by  tradition  and  authority,  the  methods 
of  the  Schoolmen  were  formal  and  pedantic ;  in 
this  respect  they  were  less  fortunate  than  the 
thinkers  of  antiquity.  At  the  same  time  the 
mediaeval  method  of  exposition,  in  so  far  as  it  was 
a  method  of  argument,  was  that  of  Hellas.  To 
write  dialogues  in  the  Platonic  manner  was  no 
longer  the  fashion,  nor  was  it,  perhaps,  within 
the  powers  of  men  of  that  age ;  but,  though  the 
written  word  was  untouched  by  the  finer  graces 
of  poetry  and  imagination,  yet  never  in  the 
history  of  philosophy  and  theology — a  sphere  of 
learning  at  that  time  co-extensive  with  literature 
— have  skill  in  controversy  and  dialectical  ability 
brought  wider  fame  to  their  possessors  ;  never  were 
these  talents  enthroned  higher  among  the  objects 
of  intellectual  ambition  than  in  the  time  of 
Abelard  and  his  rivals.  These  wandering  teachers 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  whose  mission  it  was,  after 
the  manner  of  the  ancient  Sophists,  to  popularize 
the  learning  of  the  schools,  were  also  in  the  most 
literal  sense  gladiators  in  the  arena  of  philosophical 
controversy. 

4.  Turning    from    the    sphere    of    history    and 


102 


CONVENTICLE 


speculative  thought  to  that  of  everyday  life,  we 
find  that  here  the  uses  of  controversy  are  less 
obvious,  but  not  less  real.  In  the  ordinary  sense 
of  the  word  it  may  he  nothing  more  than  negative 
criticism,  the  mere  raising  of  objections  to  a 
doctrine  or  theory  brought  forward.  But,  even 
so,  it  is  of  practical  value  in  sharpening  the 
faculties  and  clearing  up  confusion  in  the  mind. 
For  contradiction,  whether  it  proceeds  from  con- 
viction or  not,  is  always  stimulating,  and  even  a 
superficial  discussion  of  most  questions  is  enlighten- 
ing. When,  however,  controversy  is  fairly  carried 
on,  that  is,  with  candour  and  moderation,  in  a 
spirit  of  honest  inquiry,  it  is  of  great  ethical  and 
educative  value.  The  prejudices  of  the  fair- 
minded  rarely  withstand  the  presentation  of  fact 
or  the  persuasion  of  sincere  conviction.  We  start, 
most  of  us,  knowing  but  one  side  of  controverted 
questions ;  an  argument  with  an  intelligent 
opponent  will  show  us  the  other  side,  and  expose 
the  weaknesses  of  both  positions.  If  our  con- 
clusions are  sound,  we  shall  realize  their  value ; 
if  they  are  faulty,  light  will  be  thrown  on  the 
premisses  on  which  they  are  based.  John  Stuart 
Mill,  in  his  eloquent  defence  of  liberty  of  thought 
and  discussion,  says  that  every  one  ought  to  make 
a  habit  of  seeking  this  experience,  and  that  out- 
side the  sphere  of  mathematics  no  man's  opinions  de- 
serve the  name  of  knowledge  except  in  so  far  as  he 
has  gone  through  the  mental  process  which  would 
have  been  required  of  him  in  carrying  on  an  active 
controversy  with  opponents  (On  Liberty,  ch.  2). 

5.  The  benefit  to  the  individual  of  such  a  know- 
ledge of  most  subjects  no  open-minded  person  is 
likely  to  deny.  But  there  is  a  deeper  aspect  of 
the  question.  It  has  often,  and  rightly,  been  said 
that  controversy  is  the  battlefield  upon  which 
truth  comes  into  collision  with  error,  and  that  by 
means  of  it  alone  we  can  acquire  new  truth.  The 
progress  of  the  race  is  thus  best  served  by  unlimited 
freedom  of  discussion,  by  such  a  right  '  to  argue 
freely  according  to  conscience '  as  Milton  held  to 
be  among  the  first  of  human  liberties.  Mill  lays 
stress  upon  another  point.  It  is  a  matter  of 
history  that  the  ethical  and  religious  doctrines  of 
the  world  owed  their  preservation  and  develop- 
ment to  the  fact  that  they  were  vigorously  de- 
fended against  attack  in  the  earlier  stages  of  their 
existence.  What  is  true  of  sects  and  nations 
applies  equally  to  the  spiritual  life  of  individuals. 
It  is  the  convictions  for  which  we  must  fight  that 
we  are  in  least  danger  of  losing.  It  is  beliefs 
which  are  most  universally  accepted,  most  rarely 
questioned,  that  are  apt  to  become  least  full  of 
meaning  to  us,  even  to  be  accepted  by  us 
mechanically.  It  would  be  easy  to  multiply 
instances  of  this.  Can  the  precepts  of  Chris- 
tianity, for  example,  be  said  to  bear  the  same 
literal  meaning  for  us  as  they  did  for  the  Founder 
and  the  persecuted  of  the  early  Church?  Or,  to 
take  the  case  of  religion  in  Scotland,  is  there  in 
Scotsmen  of  to-day  the  fire,  the  blind  devout  faith, 
the  love  of  the  Church,  which  animated  their  fore- 
fathers? Most  people,  even  allowing  for  change 
of  circumstances  and  conditions,  are  inclined  to 
answer  these  questions  in  the  negative.  Certainly 
creeds  and  opinions  do  seem  to  draw  the  breath  of 
life  from  the  heat  of  battle,  to  grow  faint  and 
languid  when  the  struggle  is  over.  This  is  one 
sense  in  which  peace  and  harmony  do  not  make 
for  progress. 

6.  Eve:y  theory,  however  sound,  has  its  limita- 
tions. All  doctrines  may  be,  in  the  main, 
erroneous ;  at  the  best  they  can  contain  only  a 
part  of  the  truth,  for  the  truth  lies  always  some- 
where between  the  extreme  positions  on  which 
man  takes  his  stand.  While  the  progress  of 
knowledge,   in    spite  of    apparent    disheartening 


retrogressions,  bears  always  onward  and  upward 
its  course  is,  as  Hegel  says,  a  zigzag  movement, 
tending  now  in  the  direction  of  one  of  these 
opposite  poles  of  thought,  now  in  the  direction  of 
another.  Dogmatism  (to  use  Kant's  expression 
for  these  extremes),  criticism,  and  scepticism 
follow  one  another,  and  are  succeeded  by  dogma- 
tism— a  new  dogmatism — again.  But  in  this 
struggle  of  theory  with  theory,  of  half  truth  with 
half  truth,  the  way  is  gradually  becoming  clearer, 
the  fresh  starting-point  is  always  a  little  higher, 
and,  human  intelligence  being  limited  and  fallible, 
all  this  can  come  about  only  in  this  way. 

Literature. — The  reader  will  find  the  source  of  most  of  the 
ideas  suggested  above  in  such  works  as :  E.  Caird,  Critical 
Philosophy  of  Kant,  1889 ;  Hegel,  History  of  Philosophy, 
Eng.  tr.  1892-96 ;  and  J.  S.  Mill,  On  Liberty,  1859,  pt.  ii.  See 
also  well-known  Histories  of  Greek  Philosophy,  euch  as  that  of 
Zeller,  of  Ueberweg,  of  Erdmann,  and  of  Schwegler.  On 
the  significance  of  the  work  of  the  Sophists,  the  student  may 
be  referred  to  G.  Grote,  History  of  Greece,  new  ed.,  1870,  pt.  ii. 

M.  Campbell  Smith. 

CONVENTICLE.— The  word  is  derived  from 
Lat.  conventiculum,  dim.  of  conventus.  According 
to  Bingham  (Orig.  Eccles.),  it  originally  signified 
no  more  than  an  assembly,  and  was  frequently 
used  by  ancient  writers  for  a  church.  It  came  to 
be  applied  specifically  to  meetings  of  religious 
associations,  particularly  private  and  secret  gather- 
ings for  worship.  Later  it  became  a  term  of 
depreciation  or  reproach,  implying  that  those  of 
whom  it  was  used  were  in  opposition  to  the  ruling 
ecclesiastical  authorities ;  for  example,  it  was 
applied  to  a  cabal  of  mutinous  monks  in.a  convent 
or  monastery.  Ultimately  it  came  to  mean  re- 
ligious meetings  of  dissenters  from  an  Established 
Church,  held  in  places  that  were  not  recognized  as 
specially  intended  for  public  worship  or  for  the 
exercise  of  religious  functions.  It  implied  that  a 
condition  of  affairs  obtained  in  which  the  State 
made  a  distinction  between  a  form  or  forms  of 
religion  whose  practice  and  propagation  were 
authorized  by  statute,  and  such  as  were  expressly 
prohibited  by  enactment.  This  usage  has  received 
legal  sanction  in  Britain. 

In  this  sense  the  term  *  conventicle '  may  be,  and  has  been, 
widely  applied.  Harnack  {Mission  and  Expansion  of  Chris- 
tianity2, 1908,  ii.  318)  uses  it  of  the  meetings  of  the  adherents 
of  Mithraism  in  the  Eastern  parts  of  the  Roman  Empire 
throughout  the  domain  of  Hellenism  (Greece,  Asia,  Syria, 
Egypt,  etc.),  in  which  regions  it  was  a  banned  cult,  while  those 
who  professed  it  were  regarded  as  belonging  to  a  barbarous 
and  illicit  sect  (F.  Cumont,  Mysteres  de  Mithra-,  Brussels, 
1903).  To  attend  'conventicles'  was  the  hall-mark  of  fanati- 
cism, according  to  Celsus,  who  represented  the  contemporary 
opinion  which  cherished  a  lively  contempt  for  all  who  attached 
themselves  to  religions  competing  with  the  Imperial  cult  us. 

In  accordance  with  the  accepted  usage  of  the 
word,  Church  historians  properly  assert  that  Chris- 
tianity took  its  rise  ecclesiastically  from  a  con- 
venticle. Such  was  the  meeting  in  the  Upper  Room 
of  the  first  disciples  of  Christ  after  the  Ascension 
(Ac  l13).  This  gathering  was  the  type  of  those 
which  soon  began  to  meet  for  prayer,  mutual 
edification,  and  memorial  observances,  in  private 
houses  such  as  that  of  Mary,  the  mother  of  John 
(Ac  1212).  Within  a  short  time  they  drew  upon 
themselves  the  suspicions  of  the  Jewish  ecclesi- 
astical authorities,  who  branded  the  new  faith  as 
impermissibly  heretical,  and  instituted  a  perse- 
cution directed  to  the  harrying  and  suppression  of 
these  conventicles,  one  of  their  most  zealous  agents 
being  he  who  became  the  Apostle  Paul. 

When  Christianity  became  a  world-religion  and 
spread  in  all  directions  throughout  the  Roman 
Empire,  it  was  at  first  tolerated,  and  enjoyed 
Government  protection,  along  with  many  other 
cults  in  vegue.  Religions  had  to  receive  licence 
from  the  State,  which  was  jealous  to  secure  itself 
against  the  danger  of  conspiracies  maturing  under 
the  guise  of  religious  confraternities.  Largely 
through  the  influence  of  political   considerations 


CONVENTICLE 


103 


(see  Gwatkin,  Harnack,  Dill,  Weinel,  etc.)  Chris- 
tianity soon  became  suspect,  and  a  religio  illicita. 
Its  meetings  thus  became  strictly  conventicles. 
Harnack  applies  the  term  to  characterize  such 
house-meetings  as  that  mentioned  in  Col  415,  and 
Schaff  uses  it  in  his  account  of  the  primitive  period 
as  descriptive  of  the  '  ecclesiolae  in  ecclesia,'  the 
independent  separate  units  of  the  Church  as  they 
existed  in  the  various  centres  in  which  it  had 
found  footing — Rome,  Corinth,  etc.  (Kirchengesch. , 
1851,  i.  454).  In  the  succeeding  century  the  cata- 
combs (q.v.)  were  the  scene  of  Christian  conventicles 
( Withrow,  The  Catacombs  of  Home,  new  ed. ,  London, 
1895,  p.  104). 

With  the  establishment  of  Christianity  by  Con- 
stantine  as  the  State  religion,  all  its  meetings  were 
legitimized,  and  the  term  of  odium  could  no  longer 
be  rightly  applied.  In  the  4th  and  5th  centuries 
the  description  again  became  applicable  to  the 
meetings  of  such  Christian  nonconformists  as  the 
Montanists  and  the  Donatists,  which  were  pro- 
hibited by  the  State  under  penalty  of  proscription 
and  death.  This  policy  was  rigorously  encouraged 
by  the  leaders  of  the  Churches  enjoying  State 
recognition  and  support. 

When  the  corruptions  of  the  Church  of  Rome 
aroused  a  growing  hostility  in  the  13th  and  14th 
centuries,  those  who  were  united  in  the  attitude 
of  protest  began  to  abandon  the  churches  and  to 
associate  themselves  in  private  or  secret  meeting- 
places.  Against  these  the  machinery  of  sup- 
pression was  quickly  put  into  operation,  and  once 
more  conventicles  entered  into  history.  In  Eng- 
land the  word  was  early  applied  to  the  meetings 
of  the  followers  of  Wyclif,  who,  recognizing  the 
incompetence  and  neglect  of  the  regular  clergy, 
sent  out  peripatetic  preachers  to  meet  the  spiritual 
needs  of  the  people.  Both  the  practice  and  the 
word  were  carried  by  the  Lollards  (as  the  most 
determined  supporters  of  Wyclif  were  called)  to 
Scotland,  where  they  did  much  to  initiate  or 
strengthen  the  movement  of  revolt  from  the  ecclesi- 
astical domination  of  Rome. 

It  was  not,  however,  till  after  the  Reformation 
that  '  conventicle '  became  a  term  with  a  legal 
connotation,  according  to  which  it  was  descriptive 
of  the  meeting-place  or  assemblage  for  worship  or 
consultation  of  those  who  departed  from  the 
Established  Church  of  England.  Queen  Elizabeth, 
in  her  contest  with  Puritanism,  strenuously  asserted 
the  royal  supremacy  in  matters  religious  and  ecclesi- 
astical, and  insisted  upon  the  rigorous  application 
of  the  Act  of  Uniformity,  which  demanded  that  all 
subjects  of  the  realm  must  conform  to  the  usages 
and  tenets  of  the  Church  established  by  law. 
Clerical  nonconformity  was  punished  by  deposition. 
As  the  result  of  the  inquisition  that  followed,  so 
many  ministers  were  deprived  of  their  livings  that 
their  places  either  could  not  be  filled  at  all  or  were 
filled  by  incompetent  and  unpopular  substitutes. 
Large  numbers  of  the  people  refused  to  accept  the 
ministrations  of  these  substitutes,  and  gathered 
together  for  worship  in  private  houses  or  other 
suitable  places.  These  conventicles  were,  under 
that  name,  expressly  declared  illegal.  The  11th 
Article  of  the  Book  of  Canons  (drawn  up  in  1603) 
censures  '  the  maintainers  of  conventicles ' ;  the 
12th,  'the  maintainers  of  constitutions  made  in 
conventicles,'  and  the  73rd  runs  thus  : 

•  Forasmuch  a9  all  conventicles  and  secret  meetings  of  priests 
and  ministers  have  ever  heen  justly  accounted  very  hateful  to 
the  state  of  the  Church  wherein  they  live,  we  do  ordain  that 
no  priests  or  ministers  of  the  Word  of  God,  nor  any  other  per- 
sons, shall  meet  together  in  any  private  house  or  elsewhere  to 
consult  upon  any  matter  or  course  to  be  taken  by  them,  or 
upon  their  motion  or  direction  by  any  other,  which  may  any 
way  tend  to  the  impeaching  or  depraving  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
Church  of  England,  or  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  or  any 
part  of  the  government  or  discipline  now  established  in  the 
Church  of  England,  under  pain  of  excommunication  ivso  facto.' 


Under  these  enactments  the  adherents  of  Ana- 
baptism  (q.v.),  which  had  been  propagated  in 
England  by  refugees  from  the  Continent,  were 
ordered  to  leave  the  Kingdom.  Even  during  the 
subsequent  reign  of  Puritanism,  the  meetings  of 
this  particular  body  were  regarded  and  treated 
after  the  same  fashion  by  the  Protector  Cromwell, 
who  was  incensed  by  their  aggressive  fanaticism. 
For  other  persecuted  sects,  with  only  one  or  two 
exceptions,  there  was  a  breathing-space  of  tolera- 
tion and  freedom. 

After  the  Restoration  of  the  Stuart  dynasty, 
established  Episcopacy  once  more  became  intolerant 
under  the  eegis  of  Charles  II.  An  Act  of  Uni- 
formity was  promulgated  in  1662,  which  ordained 
the  expulsion  from  his  charge  of  any  clergyman 
who  refused  to  subscribe  to  everything  contained 
in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  and  to  the  doc- 
trine of  the  King's  supremacy  in  matters  ecclesi- 
astical, and  held  by  the  Solemn  League  and 
Covenant  of  1643,  prohibiting  such  from  exercis- 
ing his  religious  functions  in  private  houses. 
2000  clergymen  were  ejected  from  their  livings  in 
one  day  for  declining  to  comply  with  these  tests. 
This  enactment  was  reinforced  in  1664  by  a  statute 
called  '  the  Conventicle  Act,'  which  rendered 
illegal  any  gathering  in  a  private  house  for  reli- 

fious  worship  attended  by  a  number  exceeding  by 
ve  the  regular  members  of  the  household,  under 
penalty  of  fine,  imprisonment,  or  transportation. 
A  second  version  of  this  Act  deprived  these  outed 
ministers  of  the  right  of  trial  by  jury,  and  em- 
powered any  justice  of  the  peace  to  convict  them 
on  the  oath  of  a  single  informer,  who  was  to  be 
rewarded  with  a  third  of  all  fines  levied  (D.  Neal, 
Hist,  of  the  Puritans,  new  ed.,  Lond.  1822,  iv. 
chs.  7,  8).  Large  numbers  of  nonconformists  were 
put  in  jail.  Pepys,  in  his  diary  of  August  7, 
1684,  observes :  '  I  saw  several  poor  creatures 
carried  by,  by  constables,  for  being  at  conventicles 
...  I  would  to  God  they  would  conform.'  He 
refers  to  Quakers,  who  were  amongst  the  worst 
sufferers  during  the  persecution  consequent  on  the 
passing  of  the  Acts.  Bishop  Burnet,  in  his  His- 
tory of  his  own  Time,  1724-34,  i.  471,  admiringly 
describes  how  they  resolutely  declined  to  obey  the 
law,  and  openly  and  fearlessly  continued  their 
prohibited  meetings.  They  would  hold  them  in 
the  street  before  the  closed  doors  of  their  meeting- 
houses, when  these  were  shut  by  order.  The 
children,  who  might  not  be  arrested  because  of 
their  youth,  would  also  hold  conventicles  in  the 
street  in  the  absence  of  their  parents  in  jail, 
suffering  patiently  the  jeers  and  cuffs  of  magis- 
trates and  unsympathetic  onlookers  (F.  S.  Turner, 
Quakers,  London,  1889,  p.  164). 

Identical  measures  were  taken  during  the  same 
reign  to  secure  the  suppression  of  Presbyterianism 
in  Scotland,  where  it  had  been  the  popular  and 
dominant  form  of  religion  since  the  Reformation. 
From  1662  to  1678  various  Acts  were  passed  by  the 
Privy  Council  and  the  Court  of  High  Commission, 
prohibiting  conventicles  and  imposing  penalties  of 
increasing  severity  upon  those  who  attended  them, 
masters  being  made  responsible  for  their  servants, 
landlords  for  their  tenants,  magistrates  for  the 
citizens  of  the  burghs  over  which  they  presided. 
It  was  forbidden  to  supply  denounced  persons 
with  meat  or  drink,  or  to  harbour  or  have  inter- 
course of  any  kind  with  them.  These  measures 
proving  unavailing  to  effect  their  purpose,  it  was 
ultimately  enacted  that  attendance  should  incur 
the  penalty  of  death.  Those  in  command  of  the 
military,  and  even  the  common  soldiers  themselves, 
were  given  authority  to  inflict  it  immediately  on 
the  spot  of  capture,  without  the  formality  of  a 
legal  trial — an  authority  which  was  used  without 
scruple  or  mercy  in  numerous  instances  by  such  as 


104 


CONVERSION 


Claverhouse.  This  policy  proved,  however,  quite 
abortive.  The  bulk  of  the  religious  population  in 
the  south  and  south-west  districts  continued  to 
attend  the  conventicles,  which  were  arranged  and 
conducted  by  the  outed  ministers.  Where  the 
congregation  was  too  large  for  any  suitable  private 
house,  resort  was  had  to  barns,  granaries,  or  such 
like  commodious  buildings.  Frequently,  however, 
the  number  of  those  who  flocked  to  tnese  illegal 
gatherings  amounted  to  thousands,  and  the  result 
was  the  institution  of  field-conventicles — meetings 
held,  sometimes  under  cover  of  night,  in  the  open 
air,  on  moors  or  hills,  or  in  glens  and  ravines,  or 
wherever  safety  and  suitability  could  be  combined. 
These  frequently  lasted  for  hours,  the  preaching 
taking  up  a  large  portion  of  the  time.  At  such 
conventicles,  the  ordinances  of  the  Church  accord- 
ing to  Presbyterianism  were  faithfully  observed. 
Baptism  was  administered,  and  Communion  was 
dispensed,  often  to  hundreds  together,  and  even 
thousands,  the  rite  taking  days  to  celebrate, 
several  ministers  officiating  in  turn.  When  re- 
pressive measures  became  more  severe  and  attend- 
ance at  these  gatherings  was  enacted  to  be  a  capital 
offence,  the  men  came  armed  with  such  rude 
weapons  as  were  obtainable — scythes,  flails,  etc. 
Sentinels  were  posted  at  look-out  points  ;  for  the 
royalist  soldiery,  aided  by  spies  and  informers, 
often  succeeded  in  surprising  these  meetings.  It 
was  the  attack  upon  such  a  conventicle  that  pre- 
cipitated the  battle  of  Drumclog,  11th  June  1679, 
which  issued  in  the  only  victory  gained  by  the 
Covenanters  (as  the  upholders  of  Presbyterianism 
were  called),  and  the  only  defeat  sustained  by 
Claverhouse  (known  in  song  as  '  Bonnie  Dundee  '), 
the  most  zealous  and  efficient  of  the  military 
persecutors.  During  the  years  of  persecution  cul- 
minating in  the  '  Killing  Times,'  it  is  calculated 
that  some  18,000  people  suffered  in  one  way  or 
another  for  attending  these  conventicles.  Yet 
they  kept  alive  and  deepened  an  intense  religious 
faith  in  the  land,  while  greatly  raising  the  moral 
tone  of  many  districts  in  which  they  were  held,  as, 
e.g.,  at  place's  on  the  borders  where  pillagers  and 
moss-troopers  became  peaceful  and  honest.  Their 
impressive  solemnity,  intensified  by  the  conditions 
under  which  they  were  held,  frequently  turned 
the  hearts  even  of  enemies  present  in  disguise 
(A.  Smellie,  Men  of  the  Covenant,  1904  ;  R.  Simpson, 
Gleanings  among  the  Mountains,  1846 ;  W.  H. 
Carslaw,  Heroes  of  the  Covenant,  1900). 

After  the  Revolution  of  1688  and  the  accession  of 
William  of  Orange  to  the  British  throne,  an  Act  of 
Toleration  was  passed,  relating  to  England,  which 
exempted  from  the  penalties  of  the  laws  against 
conventicles  those  who  took  the  oath  of  allegiance 
and  subscribed  to  the  doctrinal  sections  of  the 
Thirty-nine  Articles.  Meeting-houses  were  re- 
quired to  be  registered,  and  then  came  under 
protection  of  the  law.  In  Scotland  all  the  re- 
pressive Acts  were  abrogated ;  Presbyterianism 
was  restored  by  the  State  to  its  ecclesiastical 
supremacy. 

Similar  measures  of  suppression  in  Continental 
countries  resulted  in  the  resort  of  the  persecuted 
to  similar  kinds  of  meeting.  During  the  merciless 
and  prolonged  attempt  of  Philip  II.  of  Spain  in  the 
Netherlands  to  compel  conformity  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  the  Protestant  party  headed  by 
Les  Gueux  ('The  Beggars')  were  forbidden  free 
exercise  of  their  worship,  and  immediately  field- 
preacliings  were  organized  all  over  the  country,  of 
the  same  character  as  those  in  Scotland — conducted 
by  the  excommunicated  ministers  and  surrounded 
by  armed  guards  and  sentinels  (Lindsay,  History 
of  the  Reformation,  Edinburgh,  1906-7,  vol.  ii. 
bk.  iii.  ch.  v. ).  The  same  scenes  were  enacted  in 
the  southern  districts  of  France  during  the  heroic 


struggle  of  the  Huguenot  Camisards  ('les  Enfauts 
de  Dieu, '  as  they  called  themselves  [see  C AMISAEDS]) 
to  assert  religious  freedom  against  the  suppressive 
measures  of  Louis  XIV.,  inspired  by  Cardinal 
Richelieu's  vision  of  a  unified  France,  spurred  by 
the  incitements  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  (herself 
once  a  Huguenot),  and  encouraged  by  the  eloquence 
of  the  great  preacher  Bossuet.  Their  field-con- 
venticles were  called  desert-preachings — the  name 
'  desert '  being  borrowed  from  the  Bible  as  descrip- 
tive of  the  solitary  places,  in  wild  mountain-regions, 
in  which  the  meetings  were  commonly  held.  A 
peculiarity  of  these  Camisard  gatherings  was  the 
large  part  played  by  the  '  prophets ' — men  and 
women,  and  occasionally  children,  generally  quite 
uneducated  and  often  normally  of  small  capacity 
for  speech  or  thought — who  spoke  or  were  accepted 
as  speaking  under  the  direct  inspiration  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  after  the  manner  of  the  prophets  in 
the  primitive  Church  (Peyrat,  Hist,  des  pasteurs 
du  disert,  Paris,  1842 ;  C.  Tylor,  The  Camisards, 
London,  1893). 

In  the  history  of  German  Protestantism  the 
conventicle  played  a  part  in  Pietism  (q.v.).  The 
collegia  pietatis,  established  by  Speher  and  his 
followers,  provoked  the  opposition  of  the  strictly 
orthodox  Lutherans,  and  considerable  disturbance 
was  the  result,  as  at  Frankfort,  where  the  police 
interfered.  All  sorts  of  scandal  were  rife  about 
these  conventicles,  and  the  over-enthusiastic  manner 
in  which  some  of  them  were  conducted  lent  colour 
to  the  charges.  In  Wiirttemberg  a  wise  middle 
course  was  adopted.  Those  conventicles  in  which 
the  great  principles  of  Lutheranism  were  respected 
received  legal  sanction,  while  the  more  radical 
assemblages  were  banned  (cf .  PBE3  xv.  790,  xviii. 
612).  In  Sweden,  Pietism  roused  similar  opposition, 
and  a  law  of  1726  forbade  all  conventicles  con- 
ducted by  laymen,  though  private  devotional 
meetings  under  the  direction  of  the  clergy  were 
permitted,  this  law  not  being  repealed  until  1858 
(PBE3  xviii.  33,  36). 

At  the  present  time,  it  is  perhaps  only  in  Russia, 
with  the  Greek  Church  in  a  position  of  ecclesi- 
astical supremacy  recognized  by  the  State,  that 
conventicles  in  the  strict  sense  can  still  be  said  to 
continue.  Measures  of  repression  are  from  time  to 
time  directed  by  the  Government  against  dissenting 
sects  which  have  incurred  its  suspicion  and  hos- 
tility, such  as  the  Stundists  {q.v.)  and  the  Douk- 
hobors  (q.v.),  who  were  denied  the  liberty  of 
private  meetings  for  worship.  The  spirit  of  toler- 
ance seems,  however,  to  be  rapidly  gaining  ground, 
and  nonconformists  of  any  kind,  on  giving  satis- 
factory assurances  to  the  police,  are  generally 
permitted  liberty  of  worship  according  to  their 
accepted  mode.  The  signs  of  the  times  point  to 
the  spirit  of  religious  toleration  soon  becoming 
universal,  with  the  consequent  cessation  of  that 
hostile  and  repressive  attitude  of  State  or  Estab- 
lished Church  to  any  form  of  religion  which  resulted 
in  conventicles.    ■ 

Literature. — This  is  sufficiently  indicated  in  the  article. 

A.  Mitchell  Hunter. 
CONVERSION.  —  i.    Ethnic    Conversion.  — 

Conversion,  the  greatest  of  moral  events,  is  not 
the  monopoly  of  one  religion.  It  is  a  human  as 
well  as  a  Christian  fact.  As  there  is  one  blood  in 
the  veins  of  all  nations,  and  one  breath  in  all 
nostrils,  so  there  is  one  Divine  Spirit  brooding 
over  and  striving  within  all  souls.  God  has  made 
all  men  with  a  capacity  for  conversion,  with  possi- 
bilities of  response  to  the  highest  call  (Ac  1727). 
And  in  every  age  and  race  there  have  been  minds 
that  have  turned  to  the  light,  hearts  that  have 
felt  the  'expulsive  power  of  a  new  affection,'  wills 
that  have  striven,  and  not  all  in  vain,  to  attain  the 
ideal.     We  need  not  grudtie  the  name  or  the  idea 


CONVERSION 


106 


of  conversion  to  many  experiences  recorded  in  non- 
Christian  literature.  '  Faciasne  quod  olim  mutatus 
Polemon  ? '  >  (Hor.  Sat.  II.  iii.  253  f. ). 

The  movement  which  was  initiated  by  the  re- 
ligious teachers  of  Greece  led  to  many  conversions 
from  polytheism  to  monotheism,  and  it  had  its 
saints  and  martyrs.  Dill  has  shown  that,  towards 
the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era,  Graeco-Roman 
philosophy  became  evangelical ;  it  sent  out  an 
array  of  preachers  to  convert  men  to  a  higher  and 
purer  ideal  {Bom.  Society  from  Nero  to  M.  Aurelius, 
London,  1904,  bk.  iii.  ch.  ii.).  '  Some  of  the  schools 
even  developed  a  true  pastoral  activity,  exercising 
an  oversight  of  their  members,  and  seeking  to 
mould  their  moral  life  and  habits  according  to  the 
dictates  of  true  wisdom '  (Menzies,  Hist,  of  Re- 
ligion, London,  1895,  p.  301).  'I  regard  myself,' 
said  Seneca,  '  not  so  much  as  a  reformed,  but  as  a 
transligured  man '  (Ep.  6).  The  science  of  Com- 
parative Religion  is  proving  the  truth  of  the 
intuition  that  there  is  'a  light  which  lighteth 
every  man '  ( Jn  l9).  The  conversion  of  Gautama, 
afterwards  known  as  the  Buddha,  is  as  real  a  fact 
as  that  of  Saul  of  Tarsus,  Francis  of  Assisi,  or  any 
other  spirit  that  has  ever  obeyed  the  heavenly  vision. 
This  pampered  child  of  fortune  turned  from  his 
pleasures  and  palaces  as  illusion  and  vanity ;  he 
sought  and  found,  as  he  believed,  the  cause  of 
sorrow  and  the  way  to  subdue  it ;  and  he  drew  a 
vast  stream  of  mankind  after  him  to  the  religion 
of  renunciation.  It  was  the  best  they  could  do  ; 
they  followed  the  gleam  ;  they  loved  the  highest 
when  they  saw  it.  Similar  phenomena  are  found 
in  Confucianism,  Islam,  and  all  other  great  re- 
ligions. God  has  not  left  Himself  without  witness 
in  any  nation,  and  the  same  choice  between  good 
and  evil,  between  self-seeking  and  self-sacrifice, 
presents  itself  in  some  form  or  other  to  every 
human  being.  The  spiritual  ascent  of  man  has 
been  accomplished  by  a  long  series  of  conversions, 
from  the  lowest  fetishism  to  the  highest  theism. 
To  Christian  philosophy,  every  upward  movement 
of  the  human  mind  suggests  that  '  Christ,  in  His 
universal  relation  to  humanity,  may  be  able  to  pour 
His  new  life  into  open  hearts,  even  when  there  is 
complete  ignorance  concerning  the  facts  of  His 
history  and  work '  (Clarke,  Outline  of  Christian 
Theology,  Edinburgh,  1898,  p.  398).  And  yet,  so 
great  is  the  difference  between  all  such  movements 
and  the  experience  which  is  called  Christian  con- 
version, that  one  cannot  but  acclaim  the  essential 
truth  of  a  well-known  passage  in  Carlyle's  Sartor 
Besartus : 

'  Blame  not  the  word  [conversion] ;  rejoice  rather  that  such  a 
word,  signifying  such  a  thing,  has  come  to  light  in  our  modern 
Era,  though  hidden  from  the  wisest  Ancients.  The  Old  World 
knew  nothing  of  Conversion  ;  instead  of  an  Eoce  Homo,  they 
had  only  some  Choice  of  Hercules.  It  was  a  new-attained  pro- 
gress in  the  Moral  Development  of  man :  hereby  has  the 
Highest  come  home  to  the  bosoms  of  the  most  Limited  ;  what 
to  Plato  was  but  a  hallucination,  and  to  Socrates  a  chimera,  is 
now  clear  and  certain  to  your  Zinzendorfs,  your  Wesleys,  and 
the  poorest  of  their  Pietists  and  Methodists'  (bk.  ii.  ch.  10). 

2.  Conversion  in  the  Bible. — The  term  '  conver- 
sion' (iirio-Tpo<p-ni)  occurs  but  once  in  the  Bible  (Ac 
15s).  At  the  close  of  his  first  great  mission,  St. 
Paul  went  to  Jerusalem  to  take  counsel  with  the 
Apostles  and  elders,  and  he  and  Barnabas  passed 
through  Phoenicia  and  Samaria  '  telling  the  whole 
tale  (eKSi-qyoiixevoi)  of  the  conversion  of  the  Gentiles, 
to  the  great  joy  of  all  the  brethren.'  It  was  a 
momentous  event,  pregnant  with  the  mightiest 
issues,  marking  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  the 

1  '  Polemon  was  a  youth  of  Athens,  the  son  of  Philostratus, 
who  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life  in  riot  and  drunkenness. 
He  once,  when  intoxicated,  entered  the  school  of  .  Xenocrates, 
and  was  so  struck  with  the  eloquence  of  the  academician,  and 
the  force  of  his  arguments,  that  from  that  moment  he  re- 
nounced the  dissipated  life  he  had  led,  and  applied  himself 
totally  to  the  study  of  philosophy.  After  the  death  of  Xeno- 
crates he  succeeded  in  the  school  where  his  reformation  had 
been  effected  '  (Leinpriere,  Class.  Diet.,  ed.  1830,  s.tf.  '  Polemon  '). 


world.  In  the  LXX  the  verb  iwiarptipu  stands  for 
ilSf;,  339,  and  apo,  and  times  without  number  for 
aw  and  Ttj>n.  In  AV  of  the  OT  '  convert '  occurs 
five  times — in  Ps  197  (Vulg.  convertens  animas), 
where  RV  uses  'restoring' ;  in  Ps  5113,  where  RV 
retains  '  sinners  shall  be  converted,'  while  the 
margin  has  '  shall  return  ' ;  in  Is  l27,  where  RVm 
changes  '  her  converts '  into  '  they  that  return 
of  her '  ;  in  Is  610,  where  RV  has  '  turn  again '  ; 
and  in  Is  606,  where  '  converted '  becomes  in  the 
RV  'turned.'  In  the  NT  iirto-Tpi<poi  appears  very 
frequently,  and  in  AV  it  is  nine  times  rendered 
'  convert ' ;  but  this  word  appears  only  twice  in  R V 
(Ja  519-  20),  being  everywhere  else  changed  into 
'turn'  or  'turn  again.'  But,  wherever  the  Gr. 
word  is  followed  by  iirl  rbv  Kipiov,  irl  rbv  Be6v,  or 
the  like,  it  undoubtedly  connotes  all  that  is  com- 
monly signified  by  'convert,'  e.g.  in  Ac  935  ll21 
14>6  2620,  1  P  226. 

The  Bible  is  the  drama  of  the  conversion  of  the 
world,  of  the  turning,  or  rather  the  return,  of  man 
to  God.  The  sacred  writings  must,  in  the  last 
resort,  always  determine  and  control  our  concep- 
tion of  the  origin,  growth,  and  nature  of  the 
spiritual  life.  Without  them  there  would  be  no 
Christian  conversion,  for  there  could  be  no  adequate 
knowledge  of  God  as  revealed  by  Christ  Jesus. 
If  we  are  able  to  trace  the  lineaments  of  the 
soul  of  a  Christian,  it  is  because  we  have  in 
the  Bible  the  gradually  perfected  norm  of  the 
new  life. 

i.  The  OT.— The  OT  is  a  mine  of  gold  for  the 
inductive  study  of  the  facts  of  conversion,  but  the 
prospector  has  to  encounter  certain  initial  diffi- 
culties. The  subject  of  conversion  is  often  the 
nation  as  a  whole,  and  the  part  played  by  the 
individual  is  usually  left  to  be  inferred  instead  of 
being  directly  expressed.  Again,  the  Oriental 
mind  is  not  analytic ;  it  reasons  a  priori ;  it  is 
noumenal  rather  than  phenomenal.  Where  the 
West  says,  '  Felix  qui  potuit  rerum  cognoscere 
causas,'1  the  East  is  content  with  '  causam.'  To 
search  for  secondary  causes,  to  pry  too  curiously 
into  the  subjective  conditions  of  spiritual  experi- 
ence, seems  to  it  not  only  superfluous,  but  even  a 
little  profane.  '  This  is  Jahweh's  doing '  (Ps  1  IS23), 
'  The  Icing's  heart  is  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord  as 
the  watercourses  :  he  tumeth  it  whithersoever  he 
will '  (Pr  211),  '  None  can  stay  his  hand '  (Dn  4s5), 
are  characteristic  Eastern  utterances.  Once  more, 
the  Hebrew  habit  of  thinking  in  pictures — due  in 
great  measure  to  the  absence  of  abstract  terms 
from  the  language — causes  many  spiritual  experi- 
ences to  be  clothed  in  a  figurative  or  symbolical 
garb.  The  psychologist  must  be  a  very  skilful  as 
well  as  reverent  exegete  who  would  re-tell  in 
modern  scientific  phraseology  the  story  of  the 
conversion  of  Jacob  at  Bethel,  of  Moses  in  Arabia, 
of  Solomon  at  Gibeon,  of  Isaiah  in  Jerusalem. 
The  last  of  these  experiences,  enshrined  in  an 
incomparably  vivid  and  illuminating  page  of  auto- 
biography (Is  61"8),  presents  a  type  of  conversion 
in  Israel  which  is  no  doubt,  in  some  respects, 
unique  and  incommunicable,  but  in  its  broad  out- 
lines may  be  regarded  as  normative.  Four  dis- 
tinct momenta  are  enumerated  in  the  thrilling 
and  transforming  experience.  There  is  a  vision, 
flashed  upon  the  young  Hebrew's  inner  eye,  of  the 
King,  Jahweh  of  hosts,  whose  glory  fills  the  earth. 
There  is  a  conviction  of  sin,  personal  and  national, 
concentrating  itself  like  a  subtle  poison  in  unclean 
lips.  There  is  the  unutterable  comfort  of  absolu- 
tion, which  comes  in  the  hand  of  a  Divine  mes- 
senger, by  the  way  of  the  altar,  to  a  heart  wrung 
with  anguish.  And  there  is  a  mission,  Divinely 
ottered  and  humbly  accepted,  to  live  in  the  service 
of  God  for  the  welfare  of  men. 

Just  because  Israel's  moral  and  spiritual  ideal — 


106 


CONVERSION 


their  conception  both  of  God  and  of  man — was  so 
much  higher  and  purer  than  that  of  any  other 
nation  of  antiquity,  conversion  was  to  them  a 
more  real  and  radical  experience  than  elsewhere. 
Theologically  construed,  conversion  was,  in  their 
eyes,  always  a  reversion,  not  to  a  low  but  to  a 
high  type,  not  to  an  animal  but  to  a  Divine  pattern. 
This  was  not  a  movement  contrary  to  nature ;  it 
was  man  finding  himself,  realizing  his  own  true 
nature.  But  the  general  point  of  view  was  in- 
tensely ethical  rather  than  speculative.  Histori- 
cally, the  one  aim  of  the  spiritual  leaders  of  Israel 
was  to  constrain  the  backsliding  nation  to  '  return,' 
to  '  be  converted,'  unto  Jahweh.  '  Let  the  wicked 
return  unto  Jahweh,'  '  Return  ye,  and  turn  your- 
selves from  all  your  transgressions,'  '  Turn  your- 
selves, and  live,' '  Take  with  you  words,  and  return 
unto  Jahweh'  (Is  557,  Ezk  1830-32,  Hos  142).  The 
Prophetic  literature  rings  with  the  clear  call  to  a 
definite  change  of  spiritual  attitude.  Conversion 
is  always  equivalent  to  repentance  and  faith.  But 
the  same  Hebrew  word  (nil?)  expresses  both  the 
turning  to  and  the  turning  again  from  Jahweh, 
conversion  and  perversion,  and  the  two  movements 
form  the  perpetual  systole  and  diastole  of  the  heart 
of  Israel.  The  possibility  of  conversion  is  based 
upon  the  consciousness  of  Divine  redemption  in 
the  past  and  the  hope  of  Divine  co-operation  in 
the  present.  '  Return  unto  me ;  for  I  have  re- 
deemed thee,'  '  Turn  thou  me,  and  I  shall  be  [or, 
that  I  may  be]  turned'  (Is  4422,  Jer  3118).  God 
alone  can  replace  the  old  antagonism  by  a  new 
disposition,  can  change  the  stony  heart  into  one  of 
flesh.  The  command,  '  Make  you  a  new  heart  and 
a  new  spirit '  (Ezk  1831),  would  be  a  mockery  if  it 
were  not  accompanied  by  the  promise,  '  A  new 
heart  also  will  I  give  you,  and  a  new  spirit  will  I 
put  within  you'  (S628),  and  unless  there  were  a 
Divine  response  to  the  prayer,  '  Create  in  me  a 
clean  heart,  O  God,  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within 
me'(Ps5110). 

The  Book  of  Psalms  gives  lyrical  expression  to 
the  joy  of  conversion,  to  the  triumph  of  the  soul's 
return  unto  its  rest  in  God.  The  Psalms  have  many 
authors,  and  it  matters  little  whether  any  singer 
describes  his  first  or  a  subsequent  spiritual  experi- 
ence, or  whether  'the  I  Psalms'  are  intended  to 
mirror  the  heart  of  the  nation  as  well  as  the  indi- 
vidual. Be  that  as  it  may,  no  human  document 
has  greater  value  for  the  psychologist  of  conver- 
sion. Here  (especially  in  the  Penitential  Psalms, 
6.  32.  38.  51.  102.  130.  143)  he  finds  'the  sick  soul' 
sighing,  groaning,  despairing,  sure  that  God  has 
hidden  His  face,  spending  nights  in  sleepless  agony, 
tossing  wearily  to  and  fro,  watering  the  couch 
with  tears.  Here  is  the  tortured  conscience,  whose 
sins  are  exposed  in  the  light  of  God's  countenance, 
gnawed  with  remorse,  seized  with  the  pains  of 
Sheol.  Here  is  the  sense  of  inward  uncleanness, 
of  hereditary  sin,  the  horrible  feeling  of  being  sunk 
in  the  miry  clay  of  a  deep  pit  from  which  there  is 
no  deliverance.  Here  is  the  piercing  cry  out  of 
abysmal  depths,  the  prayer  for  Divine  mercy  and 
forgiveness.  And  here  is  the  glimmering  light  in 
the  darkness,  the  blaze  of  spiritual  illumination, 
the  clear  vision  of  God,  the  sense  of  His  redeeming 
love ;  and,  lastly,  the  rapture  of  deliverance,  the 
gratitude  that  words  can  never  utter,  the  desire  to 
tell  to  others  wha^  Jahweh  hath  done  for  the  soul, 
that  sinners  may  be  converted  unto  him. 

At  an  early  period  the  Hebrew  nation  began  to 
devote  much  care  to  the  training  of  the  young. 
There  was  an  enthusiasm  for  education  (see  EDU- 
CATION [Jewish]),  and  the  discipline  was  never 
merely  intellectual,  but  always  primarily  ethical 
and  spiritual.  '  The  fear  of  Jahweh  is  the  begin- 
ning [or,  it  may  be,  '  the  chief  part ']  of  wisdom ' 
(Pr  I7).     Here  'wisdom'  is  almost  equivalent  to 


'  religion. '  It  was  often  personified  by  its  lovers, 
and  praised  as  a  mother  or  a  bride  (Pr  2.  3),  and 
even  as  the  eternal  companion  of  Jahweh  (Pr  8). 
The  great  aim  of  Hebrew  parents — no  mention  is 
made  of  schools — was  so  to  'train  up  a  child'  in 
the  service  of  God  and  in  the  atmosphere  of  healthy 
piety,  that  in  his  manhood  he  should  need  no  sudden, 
violent,  convulsive  return  unto  Jahweh  from  a  life 
of  sin  and  shame.  How  entirely  such  psedagogy 
corresponds  with  our  latest  ideals  of  education,  we 
shall  see  later.  That  the  end  was  often  realized, 
we  cannot  doubt.  Some  of  the  noblest  servants 
of  God  knew  that  they  were  sanctified  from  their 
mother's  womb  (Jer  l6,  Lk  l15).  There  was  no 
time  when  they  did  not  reverence  and  love  Jahweh, 
no  time  when  they  played  the  fool,  no  time  when 
they  needed  to  hear  the  arresting  trumpet-voice, 
'  Turn  ye,  turn  ye  .  .  .  why  will  ye  die  ? '  (Ezk  3311). 
But  there  are  incalculable  elements  in  human 
nature  as  well  as  defects  in  the  best  education, 
and  the  sons  of  many  servants  of  Jahweh — such 
as  Eli,  David,  Josiah — showed  that  it  is  always  in 
man's  power  to  abuse  the  mystery  of  his  freedom 
and  defeat  the  grace  of  God. 

Conversion  in  the  OT  was  often  a  profound  and 
radical  change.  The  desire  for  God — the  hunger, 
the  thirst,  the  panting,  the  fainting — was  pathetic 
as  it  was  passionate,  and  the  response  to  the  human 
cry  was  the  outstretching  of  a  strong  arm  that  not 
only  wrought  deliverance  from  evil,  but  drew  men 
into  close  and  satisfying  fellowship  with  God.  Yet 
the  joy  of  conversion  was  never  quite  full.  It 
was  for  a  long  period  troubled  by  the  idea  that 
spiritual  restoration  must  necessarily  be  followed 
and  attested  by  material  prosperity.  To  the  end 
it  awaited  a  fuller  revelation  of  the  Fatherhood 
of  God,  the  atonement  of  sin,  and  the  hope  of 
immortality.  There  was  to  be  a  final  answer  to 
the  oft-repeated  prayer,  'Turn  us  again,  O  God, 
and  cause  thy  face  to  shine,  and  we  shall  be  saved' 
(PS803-7-19). 

ii.  The  NT. — In  the  NT,  conversion  is  the  chiei 
end  of  all  teaching  and  preaching.  It  has  rightly 
been  called  (Ecce  Homo",  London,  1873,  p.  243) 
'the  true  articulus  stantis  aut  cadentis  ecclesiae.' 
Jesus  began  His  ministry  by  preaching  repentance 
and  faith  (Mk  lw),  which  are  together  equivalent 
to  Christian  conversion.  The  call  of  the  early 
Church  was,  '  Repent  ye,  therefore,  and  be  con- 
verted, that  your  sins  may  be  blotted  out '  (Ac  319). 
The  language  in  which  conversion  is  described  varies 
givatly,  as  do  the  subjective  experiences  of  indi- 
viduals ;  but  the  root  or  core  of  the  change  is  always 
the  same.  It  is  figured  as  a  translation  out  of 
darkness  into  marvellous  light  (1  P  29),  as  a  being 
born  again,  or  '  from  above '  (Jn  33),  as  a  redemp- 
tion from  all  iniquity  (Tit  2H),  as  a  passing  out  of 
death  into  life  (Jn  S"),  as  a  turning  from  the  power 
of  Satan  unto  God  (Ac  2618),  as  a  new  creation 
(2  Co  517),  as  putting  off  an  old  and  putting  on  a 
new  man  (Col  39),  as  becoming  children  of  God 
(Ro  816),  as  having  Christ  dwelling  in  the  heart  by 
faith  (Eph  317),  as  a  dying  and  rising  again  (Ro  62"8). 
Practically,  it  is  a  new  life  which  turns  all  the 
forces  of  one's  being  into  a  new  channel.  All  the 
energies  that  formerly  made  a  man  a  sinner  are 
now  employed  to  make  him  a  saint.  His  careful- 
ness, indignation,  zeal,  and  revenge  are  directed 
against  his  sin  (2  Co  7").  The  converting  power 
is  never  the  mere  force  of  truth,  or  the  beauty  of 
holiness,  but  always  the  fascination  of  a  Person. 
The  whole  life  of  the  convert  organizes  itself  anew 
around  Christ  living,  dying,  rising,  and  reigning ; 
He  is  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  (Ro  l16). 
The  NT  tells  of  multitudes  who  have  been  re- 
claimed from  vice,  and  never  gone  back.  Science 
regards  all  facts  with  reverence,  and  the  NT 
abounds  in  such  transfigured  realism  as  the  fol- 


CONVERSION 


107 


lowing :  '  Neither  fornicators,  nor  idolaters,  nor 
adulterers,  nor  effeminate,  nor  abusers  of  them- 
selves with  mankind,  nor  thieves,  nor  covetous, 
nor  drunkards,  nor  revilers,  nor  extortioners,  shall 
inherit  the  kingdom  of  God.  And  such  were  some 
of  you :  but  ye  were  washed,  but  ye  were  sancti- 
fied, but  ye  were  justified  in  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  and  in  the  Spirit  of  our  God'  (1  Co 
69"11).  NT  conversions  have  been  classified  as 
moral,  spiritual,  intellectual,  and  practical  (John 
Watson,  Inspiration  of  our  Faith,  p.  79  ft'.);  and 
such  groupings  are  useful,  if  not  logically  perfect. 
There  are  conversions  from  sin  to  holiness,  from 
doubt  to  faith,  from  legality  to  grace,  from  selfish- 
ness to  service.  But  we  must  beware  of  analyzing 
the  indivisible  self  into  so  many  faculties,  and 
ascribing  conversion  to  the  exercise  of  one  of  them, 
to  the  exclusion  of  the  others.  Conversion  is  the 
response  of  the  whole  personality — whether  re- 
garded as  mind,  or  heart,  or  will — to  the  personal 
Christ.  It  is  man's  meeting  with  Christ,  believing 
in  Christ,  gaining  new  life  in  Christ.  Intelligence, 
emotion,  volition  are  all  mastered  by  the  Author 
and  Finisher  of  Christian  faith.  The  harmonious 
functioning  of  every  energy  of  the  mind  is  the 
perfect  spiritual  life. 

Jowett,  in  a  fine  essay  on  '  Conversion  and 
Changes  of  Character,'  calls  attention  to  the  fact 
that  '  with  the  first  believers  the  influence  of 
Christianity  was  almost  always  sudden.'  He  finds 
that  this  lay  in  the  nature  of  things.  The  earliest 
converts  had  no  Christian  training  in  childhood 
and  youth.  When  they  heard  the  gospel,  they 
were  pricked  with  the  sense  of  sin,  they  were 
melted  with  the  love  of  Christ,  and  they  needed 
no  time  of  probation.  But  their  conversion,  how- 
ever sudden,  and  however  wonderful  the  attending 
circumstances,  was  none  the  less  sincere  and  last- 
ing. They  became  the  very  opposite  of  their  former 
selves ;  their  spiritual  nature  came  again  like  the 
flesh  of  a  little  child  (Jowett,  Theological  Essays, 
p.  40).  Sometimes  the  change  was  violent  and 
dramatic,  as  in  the  case  of  St.  Paul,  whose  con- 
version is  the  most  momentous  in  history ;  some- 
times it  was  quiet  and  unsensational,  as  in  the 
instances  of  Zacchaeus,  Matthew,  Lydia,  Timothy. 
But,  whether  the  type  was  explosive  or  gentle,  the 
change  was  radical  and  complete.  And  it  is  im- 
portant to  note  that  it  was  always  the  opposite  of 
a  gradual  and  laborious  reformation. 

'  Easier  to  change  many  things  than  one  is  the  common 
saying.  Easier,  we  may  add,  in  religion  or  morality,  to  change 
the  whole  than  the  part.  Easier,  because  more  natural,  more 
agreeable  to  the  voice  of  conscience  and  the  promises  of  Scrip- 
ture. .  .  .  Take  care  of  the  little  things  of  life,  and  the  great 
ones  will  take  care  of  themselves,  is  the  maxim  of  the  trader. 
But  more  true  is  it  in  religion  that  we  should  take  care  of  the 
great  things,  and  the  trifles  of  life  will  take  care  of  themselves. 
Christianity  is  not  an  art  acquired  by  long  practice  ;  it  does  not 
carve  and  polish  human  nature  with  a  graving  tool ;  it  makes 
the  whole  man  ;  first  pouring  out  his  soul  before  God,  and  then 
casting  him  in  a  mould '  (Jowett,  op.  cit.  55). 

For  certain  purposes,  theology  distinguishes  con- 
version from  regeneration.  They  are  the  human 
and  the  Divine  side  of  the  same  experience.  Re- 
generation is  the  gift  of  God's  grace,  the  power  or 
principle  of  the  new  life  implanted  by  His  Spirit ; 
conversion  is  the  act  of  human  freedom,  the  volun- 
tary turning  of  the  heart  to  God.  The  one  is  a 
necessity — '  ye  must  be  born  again '  (Jn  3') ;  the 
other,  a  duty — '  repent  and  be  converted '  (Ac  319). 
Begeneration  occurs  but  once,  conversion  may  have 
U>  be  repeated.  '  Convert  your  conversion  '  is  the 
keen  counsel  of  Adolphe  Monod  (Saint  Paul3,  Paris, 
1859,  p.  J14).  St.  Peter's  faith  never  failed,  for  his 
Master  prayed  for  him,  and  his  love  never  grew 
cold  ;  but  in  a  moment  of  temptation  he  denied  his 
Lord,  and  his  need  to  be  re-converted  was  painfully 
evident  (Lk  22s2).  And  if  there  is  any  truth  in  the 
Domine,  quo  vadis  ?  legend,  he  had  yet  another  con- 


version at  the  very  end  of  his  life,  and  it  was  again 
a  look  on  the  face  of  Christ  that  wrought  the 
change.  '  And  Peter  turned,  and  rushed  on  Rome, 
and  died.'  Conversion  plays  too  important  a  part 
to  be  exhausted  in  a  single  decision. 

'  The  whole  life  of  a  man,'  says  Fraser  of  Brea,  4  is  a  continued 
conversion  to  God,  in  which  he  is  perpetually  humbled  under 
sense  of  sin,  and  draws  nearer  and  nearer  to  God,  with  more 
fervent  faith  and  love,  and  daily  walks  closer  with  the  Lord, 
endeavouring  at  perfection.  And  God  doth,  as  it  were,  act  over 
and  over  again  His  work  in  the  heart,  forming  His  people  more 
exactly  than  before  :  and  therefore  no  wonder  they  meet  with 
something  like  a  second,  yea,  and  a  third  and  fourth  conversion, 
especially  where  there  are  backslidings '  {Memoirs,  Edinburgh, 
1738,  ch.V.  3). 

St.  Paul  describes  his  own  conversion  objectively 
in  the  Acts,  and  subjectively  in  his  Epistle  to  the 
Romans.  Ro  7  is  the  most  searching  analysis  ever 
given  of  the  divided  self,  the  homo  duplex.  Whether 
it  mirrors  a  first  or  second  or  still  later  spiritual 
conflict  is  immaterial,  for  each  crisis  is  in  many 
respects  the  same.  How  forcibly  the  Apostle's  self- 
dissection  illustrates  the  teaching  of  the  modern 
psychologist ! 

'  The  .  .  .  basis  of  the  twice-born  character  seems  to  be  a 
certain  discordancy  or  heterogeneity  in  the  native  temperament 
of  the  subject,  an  incompletely  unified  moral  and  intellectual 
constitution.  "Homo  duplex,  homo  duplex  1 "  writes  Alphonse 
Daudet.  .  .  .  Heterogeneity  may  make  havoc  of  the  subject's 
life.  There  are  persons  whose  existence  is  little  more  than  a 
series  of  zigzags,  as  now  one  tendency  and  now  another  gets 
the  upper  hand.  Their  spirit  wars  with  their  flesh,  they  wish 
for  incompatibles,  wayward  impulses  interrupt  their  most  de- 
liberate plans,  and  their  lives  are  one  long  drama  of  repentance 
and  of  effort  to  repair  misdemeanours  and  mistakes.  .  .  .  The 
higher  and  the  lower  feelings,  the  useful  and  the  erring  impulses, 
begin  by  being  a  comparative  chaos  within  us — they  must  end 
by  forming  a  stable  system  of  functions  in  right  subordination ' 
(James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  London,  1902,  lect. 
viii.  p.  167  ff.). 

While  the  battle  rages  in  the  Apostle's  soul, 
while  his  heart  is  a  kingdom  divided  against  itself, 
and  in  all  the  chambers  of  his  being  his  moral  ideal 
is  torn  between  friends  and  foes,  his  anguish  is 
pitiful.  '  O  wretched  man  that  I  am,'  he  cries, 
'  who  shall  deliver  me  ?'  (Ro  7M).  But  in  the  end, 
by  the  power  of  Christ,  his  higher  self  triumphs 
over  his  lower  ;  his  divided  spirit  is  healed  ;  peace 
and  harmony  take  the  place  of  civil  war  and  tur- 
moil ;  and  the  most  tragic  lament  in  the  Bible  is 
followed  by  the  finest  pa;an-song. 

3.  Conversion  in  Church  history. — The  supreme 
task  of  the  Church  is  the  conversion  of  the  world — 
the  making  disciples  of  all  nations  (Mt  2819).  The 
apostolic  and  evangelic  continuity  of  spiritual  life 
is  to  be  maintained,  the  Christian  faith  is  to  be 
propagated,  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  to  come,  through 
an  unbroken  succession  of  conversions.  All  the 
preachers  who  have  profoundly  moved  the  heart  of 
mankind — master-spirits  like  Chrysostom,  Savona- 
rola, Luther,  Wesley — have .  made  conversion  their 
theme.  And,  from  a  scientific  point  of  view,  the 
evidential  value  of  conversions  is  the  highest. 

'  St.  Augustine,'  says  Romanes,  '  after  thirty  years  of  age,  and 
other  Fathers,  bear  testimony  to  a  sudden,  enduring,  and  extra- 
ordinary change  in  themselves,  called  conversion.  Now  this 
experience  has  been  repeated  and  testified  to  by  countless 
millions  of  civilized  men  and  women  in  all  nations  and  all  degrees 
of  culture.  It  signifies  not  whether  the  conversion  be  sudden  or 
gradual,  though,  as  a  psychological  phenomenon,  it  is  more 
remarkable  when  sudden  and  there  is  no  symptom  of  mental 
aberration  otherwise.  But,  even  as  a  gradual  growth  in  mature 
age,  its  evidential  value  ia  not  less'  (Thoughts  on  Religion6, 
p.  162). 

The  theology  of  the  Church  was  early  caught  in 
the  meshes  of  the  problem  of  the  relation  of  Divine 
grace  to  human  freedom  in  the  experience  of 
conversion.  Thought  has  moved  between  two 
extremes.  On  the  one  hand,  the  sovereignty  of 
God  is  emphasized,  grace  is  irresistible,  the  number 
of  the  elect  is  certain  and  must  be  made  up,  the 
Divine  good  pleasure  is  certain  to  take  effect. 
Under  such  conditions,  man,  impotent  in  the  grip 
of  original  sin,  is  converted  almost  against  his  will. 
He  is  scarcely  mote  than  an  automaton  ;  his 
salvation    appears  to   be  due   to   his   mere    good 


108 


CONVERSION 


fortune  ;  he  chances  to  be  a  vessel  unto  honour. 
On  the  other  hand,  human  liberty  is  accentuated  ; 
conversion  is  viewed  as  the  outcome  of  forces 
resident  in  man  himself  ;  he  has  a  native  power  to 
repent  and  believe,  and  the  new  life  is  from  first 
to  last  a  hard-earned,  self -obtained,  personal  posses- 
sion. The  age-long  controversy  between  Augus- 
tinian  and  Pelagian,  Calvinist  and  Arminian, 
regarding  the  fact  of  conversion  has  now  spent 
much  of  its  force.  With  the  help  of  a  better 
psychology  we  can  do  justice  to  both  the  Divine 
and  the  human  initiative.  God  is  all-operative 
love,  and  man's  whole  equipment  is  His  gift.  All 
the  conditions  of  human  life  are  Divinely  ordered, 
and  man  has  an  intense  consciousness  of  depend- 
ence. He  has  nothing  that  he  has  not  received. 
But  part  of  his  equipment  is  his  freedom.  He  is 
above  the  mechanical  order  of  nature.  He  has  a 
real  and  not  an  illusive  sovereignty.  He  is  con- 
scious of  acting  of  his  own  accord,  and  of  using  the 
causal  order  for  ends  which  he  himself  chooses. 
He  is  a  free,  self-determining  personality,  and  his 
conversion  can  only  mean  that  under  the  impulse 
of  love  he  voluntarily  and  joyfully  surrenders 
himself  to  God.  A  German  theologian  illustrates 
the  interaction  of  Divine  sovereignty  and  human 
freedom  in  conversion  by  the  familiar  process  of 
persuading  and  being  persuaded — Anregung  und 
ueberzeugung  (Seeberg,  art.  'Bekehrung,'  in 
PRE3).  Every  man  is  constrained  by  the  love 
of  Christ ;  but  every  man  is  fully  persuaded  in  his 
own  mind.  If  the  convert  calls  the  grace  or 
fascination  of  Christ  'irresistible,'  he  speaks  with 
the  enthusiasm  of  a  lover  ;  but  it  is  bad  theology 
to  change  the  warm  logic  of  the  heart  into  a  cold 
dogma  of  the  intellect.  Man  may  after  all  use  the 
Divine  gift  of  freedom  to  oppose — it  may  be  to 
thwart — the  will  of  God.  The  wise  use  of  in- 
dividuality is  to  make  Divine  ends  personal  ends, 
and  to  pour  forth  all  the  energy  of  one's  being  in 
the  service  which  is  perfect  liberty. 

Conversion  meant  in  the  Middle  Ages,  as  it  still 
does  in  Roman  Catholicism,  the  adoption  of  a  creed 
and  submission  to  the  authority  of  the  Church. 
In  Protestant  theology  it  always  means  the  re- 
birth of  the  soul,  but  in  the  Anglican  Church  there 
is  a  strong  tendency  to  regard  regeneration  and 
conversion  as  independent  experiences,  separable  in 
time,  and  different  in  important  aspects.  Cer- 
tainly, if  regeneration  is  mediated  by  baptism,  the 
subject  of  which  is  usually  unconscious  of  the 
rite,  while  conversion  is  the  deliberate  turning  of 
the  will  to  God,  the  personal  acceptance  of  Christ 
by  faith,  then  the  second  process  is  often  separated 
from  the  first  by  a  long  interval ;  and  it  is  possible 
to  contend,  as  Anglican  theology  sometimes  does, 
that  '  a  regenerated  man  is  not  necessarily  a 
converted  man.'  If  the  effect  of  baptism  is  that 
'  it  remits  all  sin,  original  and  actual ;  that  it 
bestows  sanctifying  grace,  and  endues  the  soul 
with  the  heavenly  virtues  of  faith,  hope,  and 
charity  ;  that  it  makes  the  recipient  a  member  of 
Christ,  the  child  of  God,  and  an  inheritorof  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  '  (V.  Staley,  The  Catholic  Religion, 
London,  1893,  p.  243),  there  can  be  little  need 
for  another  religious  phase  called  conversion.  But 
this  view  appears  to  lose  all  touch  with  the  central 
truth  and  vital  experience  of  the  NT,  to  empty  the 
Christian  religion  of  its  moral  and  spiritual  con- 
tents, and  to  reduce  it  to  the  level  of  a  magical 
formula. 

4.  Conversion  in  the  light  of  science. — Professor 
Henry  Drummond  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  facts 
of  conversion,  as  the  youthful  comrade  of  Mr. 
Moody  in  a  great  revival  of  religion.  From  that 
time  he  never  ceased  to  advocate  a  scientific  treat- 
ment of  the  phenomena  of  the  spiritual  life,  which 
he  happily  called  '  the  contemporary  activities  of 


the  Holy  Ghost.'  There  can  be  nothing  pre- 
sumptuous in  the  endeavour  to  classify  the  facts 
and  discover  the  laws  of  the  new  life.  To  the  man 
of  science  all  facts  are  sacred,  and  before  the  fact 
of  conversion,  as  before  any  other,  he  will  sit  down 
'  as  a  little  child.'  Far  too  scanty  attention  has 
been  given  to  the  human  side  of  soteriology.  In 
order  to  understand  the  Saviour  better,  we  must 
look  more  to  the  saved.  Christ  asked  that  He 
might  be  believed  '  for  the  very  works'  sake '  ( Jn 
14u),  and  He  worketh  hitherto  (517).  The  serious 
study  of  the  facts  of  conversion  may  be  the  best 
present-day  mode  of  handling  the  Word  of  life. 
The  Christ  of  history  may  be  reached  through  the 
Christ  of  experience.  Christianity,  as  Harnack 
reiterates,  is  '  eternal  life  here  and  now  in  the 
power  of  God  and  in  His  presence.'  Its  best 
evidence  is  the  logic  of  life.  Solvitur  ambulando, 
it  is  proved  by  its  present  spiritual  movements  and 
triumphs.  In  the  realm  of  experimental  theology, 
the  twentieth  century  may  join  hands  with  the 
first. 

During  the  last  dozen  years  there  has  been  a 
remarkable  response  to  the  plea  for  a  science  of 
conversion,  for  an  empirical  study  of  '  the  soul  of 
a  Christian.'  It  has  fittingly  come  from  the 
psychologist  rather  than  the  theologian ;  and  the 
new  quest  has  characteristically  been  urged  with 
special  keenness  in  America.  The  publication  of 
Starbuck's  Psychology  of  Religion  in  the  'Con- 
temporary Science  Series'  (1899)  marked  an  epoch 
in  the  modern  Church.  In  this  book  and  its 
numerous  successors  the  whole  spiritual  realm  has 
been  annexed  by  science.  Beligious  experiences 
without  number  have  been  collected,  classified, 
and  described.  '  That  cruel  reticence,'  whereof 
Buskin  complained,  '  in  the  breasts  of  wise  men 
which  makes  them  always  hide  their  deeper 
thoughts,'  has  to  a  great  extent  been  overcome. 
Law  and  order  have  been  introduced  into  an 
apparent  chaos.  Theology,  which  has  been  too 
long  metaphysical,  has  become  experimental ; 
it  has  been  brought  into  line  with  the  whole 
scientific  movement ;  it  has  found  a  concrete  basis 
in  the  facts  of  the  spiritual  life.  Dynamics  have 
taken  the  place  of  statics.  Conversion  is  no  longer 
regarded  as  a  mere  mystery  or  portent,  before 
which  we  must  stand  in  silent  amazement.  It 
abides  our  question  and  becomes  articulate.  It 
expresses  itself  in  the  language  of  the  modern 
mind.  It  welcomes  the  application  of  the  canons 
of  science,  and  yields  up  many  of  its  secrets  to 
patient  and  reverent  research.  It  has  a  rationale. 
It  is  seen  to  have  discoverable  relations  to  other 
known  psychological  facts.  And,  in  the  spiritual 
as  in  the  natural  world,  God  is  a  God  of  order.  He 
arranges  everything  upon  definite  principles.  The 
law  of  cause  and  effect  controls  the  spiritual  life. 
Arbitrariness  must  once  for  all  be  eliminated  from 
the  fortunes  of  the  soul.  God's  action  is  always 
causal,  never  casual.  His  sovereignty  is  as  different 
from  the  '  mere  good  pleasure  '  of  an  Eastern  despot 
as  day  is  from  night.  The  science  of  conversion  is 
still  in  its  infancy,  but  certain  conclusions  seem  to 
have  been  securely  won. 

(1)  There  is  a  conversion  period. — The  re-birth 
does  not  take  place  with  the  same  frequency  in  all 
the  seven  ages  of  human  life,  though  a  man  may 
be  born  again  when  he  is  old.  Conversion  is  in 
general  a  fact  of  adolescence.  It  is  closely  related 
to  those  great  physical  and  mental  changes  which 
mark  the  transition  from  childhood  to  youth  and 
manhood.  It  is  the  time  of  storm  and  stress,  in 
which  Nature  calls  for  readjustment  all  along  the 
line.  As  reason,  feeling,  and  moral  sense  mature, 
they  precipitate  a  spiritual'  crisis.  The  soul  awakes 
and  aspires.  The  spiritual  development  proceeds, 
as  a  rule,  pari  passu  with  the  physiological  and 


CONVERSION 


109 


psychological  development,  and  a  wide  induction 
proves  that 

'  among  females  there  are  two  tidal  waves  of  religious  awakening, 
at  about  13  and  16,  followed  by  a  less  significant  period  at  18  ; 
while  among  males  the  great  wave  is  at  about  16,  preceded  by  a 
wavelet  at  12,  and  followed  by  a  surging  up  at  18  or  19  '  (Star- 
buck,  op.  cit.  p.  34).  '  Feeling  plays  a  larger  part  in  the  religious 
life  of  females,  while  males  are  controlled  more  by  intellection 
and  volition '  (ib.  65).  '  Conversion  for  males  is  a  more  violent 
incident  than  for  females,  arid  more  sudden  '  (ib.  95).  And  '  one 
may  say  that  if  conversion  has  not  occurred  before  20,  the 
chances  are  small  that  it  will  ever  be  experienced '  (ib.  28). 

(2)  Conversion  is  often  sudden. — This  statement 
is  sometimes  received  with  incredulity  and  even 
contempt,  but  psychology  completely  justifies  it 
by  bringing  it  into  relation  with  other  well- 
known  mental  processes.  There  are  moments,  as 
Browning  says  in  his  Cristina, 

'  When  the  spirit's  true  endowments 
Stand  out  plainly  from  its  false  ones.' 

Our  best  thoughts  are  often  startling  intuitions, 
'flashes  struck  from  midnight.'  The  seeker  after 
truth  utters  his  sudden  '  Eureka,'  and  so  does  the 
seeker  after  a  Saviour  (Jn  l41-  45).  Love,  both 
natural  and  spiritual,  is  often  love  at  first  sight ; 
when  two  souls,  like  two  dewdrops,  rush  into  one, 
the  time  element  counts  for  nothing ;  the  psycho- 
logical moment  has  in  it  the  quality  of  eternity. 
Our  wills  and  our  hearts  are  ours  to  make  them 
God's,  and  life's  most  momentous  decisions  may  be 
swiftly  over. 

"The  world  and  its  laws,'  to  quote  Jowefct  again  (op.  cit.  p.  53), 
'have  nothing  to  do  with  our  free  determinations.  At  any 
moment  we  can  begin  a  new  life.'  R.  L.  Stevenson  prays  the 
Celestial  Surgeon  to  stab  his  spirit  broad  awake  ( Underwoods, 
p.  46).     *  A  word  did  it,'  said  Savonarola  of  his  own  conversion. 

Even  those  who  have  never  avoided  God,  never 
dishonoured  Christ,  often  become  suddenly  and 
profoundly  conscious  of  their  need  of  conversion  ; 
and  there  are  creative  periods  of  the  mind  when 
the  repulsion  from  evil  and  the  attraction  to 
good  are  tremendously  strong.  While,  however, 
the  actual  change  is  frequently  swift,  there  is 
almost  invariably  a  season  of  preparation  for  it. 
Conversion  is  the  climax  of  a  gradation,  the 
crisis  of  a  process  more  or  less  drawn  out.  The 
evidence  on  this  point  is  all  but  unanimous.  We 
may  even  accept  Vinet's  strong  statement :  '  Rome 
might  more  easily  be  built,  than  a  man  converted, 
in  a  day.  Such  a  prodigy  is  possible  with  God ; 
but  in  a  thousand,  m  ten  thousand  cases  to  one, 
we  may  safely  predict  that  He  will  not  perform  it ' 
{Outlines  of  Theology3,  1870,  p.  84).  Vinet  is  here 
perhaps  misusing  language,  confounding  the  means 
with  the  end,  the  way  with  the  goal.  He  does  not 
for  a  moment  deny  that  the  final  coup  is  often 
instantaneous.  In  such  cases  conversion  is  the 
firingof  aslowly-laid  train,  the  bursting  of  asilently- 
maturing  bud,  the  transformation  scene  in  the  life- 
long drama  of  the  soul.  It  is  evident  that  much  is 
lost  by  the  deliberate  postponement  of  decision. 

'  Convert  me,  but  not  yet,'  was  Augustine's  prayer.  '  Men 
are  quick  to  feel,  and  keen  to  know ;  but  they  are  not  only 
slow,  they  are  averse  to  decide.  Yet  it  is  for  decision  that 
Christianit}'  calls,  it  is  for  decision  that  the  energetic  universe 
calls,  far  more  than  for  a  mere  impression  in  reponse.  A  crisis 
has  from  time  to  time  to  be  forced,  a  crisis  of  the  will '  (P.  T. 
Forsyth,  Preaching  and  the  Modern  Mind,  1907,  p.  131). 

(3)  Conversion  may  be  unconscious. — There  is  a 
happy  class  of  Christians  who  cannot  tell  when  or 
how  they  began  to  believe ;  who  have  '  no  bitter 
regrets,  no  broken  lives,  no  ugly  memories. '  Theirs 
is  the  anima  naturaliter  Christiana,  the  schbne 
Seele  that  has  always  been  on  the  side  of  the  angels. 
It  was  the  teaching  of  Bushnell  that,  under  the 
pervasive  influence  of  the  Christian  family,  the 
child  should  grow  up  a  Christian,  and  never  know 
himself  to  be  otherwise.  The  Christian  life,  being 
natural  to  man,  should  begin  with  the  beginnings 
of  conscious  experience ;  and  a  great  wrong  is 
done  to  a  child  when  he  is  led  to  imagine  that  he 
must  wait  till  he  comes  to  years  of  discretion  and 


then  have  an  experience  which  will  make  him  a 
Christian.  If  God's  will  for  him  is  realized,  there 
will  be  no  rude  break,  but  a  beautiful  continuity, 
in  his  spiritual  life.  '  Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of 
God'  (Mk  1014),  said  Jesus  of  the  children  of 
Galilee,  and  the  prevention  of  a  fall  from  the  grace 
vouchsafed  to  childhood  should  be  the  aim  of  all 
education. 

'  That  is  the  ideal  type  of  conversion  in  a  Christian  land  ;  and 
it  is  the  scandalous  neglect  of  duty  by  Christian  parents  and  by 
the  Church  which  has  made  it  less  frequent  than  it  should  be ' 
(D.  W.  Forrest,  The  Christ  of  History  and  of  Experience,  358). 
'  The  child  is  father  of  the  man  ; 
And  I  could  wish  my  days  to  be 
Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety.' 
Some,  indeed,  deny  that  in  this  experience  there 
is  any  conversion  at  all.  Francis  Newman  dis- 
tinguished the  '  once-born '  from  the  '  twice-born ' 
Christian,  and  this  idea — legitimate  enough  as  a 
protest  against  an  exclusively  revivalistic  type  of 
conversion — has  been  taken  seriously  by  some 
psychologists  and  greatly  overworked.  It  is  not  a 
Christian  idea.  Jesus  assumes  in  many  indirect 
ways  the  natural  sinfulness  of  the  human  heart 
and  its  need  of  regeneration.  Even  the  child  who 
is  '  sanctified  from  his  mother's  womb '  is  twice- 
born.  The  most  '  sky-blue '  and  '  healthy-minded ' 
Christian  is  regenerated.  Science  is  here  render- 
ing a  valuable  service  to  theology.  It  has  proved 
that  every  man  has  a  sub-conscious  as  well  as  a 
conscious  self,  and  that  changes  both  small  and 
great  occur  in  the  subliminal  region  of  the  mind. 

'  Consciousness  is  a  very  poor  witness  to  what  takes  place  in 
the  abysses  of  soul  life.  The  remembered  experiences  of 
individuals  are  pitifully  fragmentary  and  puerile,  and  often 
absurdly  mistaken  as  to  cause,  process,  issue,  and  object '  (Hall, 
Adolescence,  p.  341). 

We  are  largely  the  creatures  of  instinct  and 
unconscious  imitation,  and,  if  many  things    are 
wrought  into  the  fabric  of  our  being  without  our 
knowledge,  why  not  the  grace  of  God  ? 
'Think  you,  'mid  all  this  mighty  sum 
Of  things  for  ever  speaking, 
That  nothing  of  itself  will  come, 
But  we  must  still  be  seeking?" 
God  '  giveth  his  beloved  in  sleep '  (Ps  1272),  and 
His  beneficence  is  as  wonderful  in  an  unconscious 
as  in  a  conscious  regeneration.     But  see,  on  this 
whole  subject,  art.  CONSCIOUSNESS,  p.  53. 

(4)  Conversion  must  not  be  stereotyped. — The 
phenomena  of  the  spiritual  life  are  marvellously 
complex,  and  psychology  teaches  us  to  resist  every 
attempt  to  standardize,  normalize,  conventionalize 
it.  Every  individual  has  his  own  ancestry,  his 
own  history,  his  own  idiosyncrasy,  and  therefore 
his  own  spiritual  experience.  The  variety  of  grace 
is  like  the  variety  of  nature.  God  does  not  repeat 
Himself  ;  He  loves  originals  more  than  duplicates. 
The  conversion  on  the  way  to  Damascus  cannot  be 
a  pattern  for  all  men.  There  need  not  always  be 
the  same  tragic  intensity,  the  same  high  lights, 
the  same  deep  shadows.  The  diversities  of  opera- 
tions of  the  selfsame  Spirit  must  all  be  orthodox. 
But  every  man  is  tempted  to  make  his  own 
experience  a  kind  of  law  for  other  people. 
Schleiermacher  thinks  that  the  religious  life  is,  in 
its  inception  and  growth,  the  product  of  feeling ; 
Herrmann  believes  that  '  greater  and  higher  than 
all  the  emotions  within  the  Christian,  there  rises 
and  towers  religious  thought.'  The  type  of  re- 
ligious experience  that  seems  native  to  a  cultured 
community  is  calm  and  restrained  ;  but  the  fervours 
of  the  Salvation  Army  and  the  Methodist  meeting 
are  to  the  psychologist  no  less  natural. 

Theodore  Monod  tells  of  a  French  friend  who  thus  described 
his  conversion  :  '  I  cannot  say  that  I  had  a  very  strong  sense  of 
sin.  I  just  felt  happy  in  the  love  of  God.  God  did  to  me  as  a 
mother  will  sometimes  do  to  her  child  who  has  overslept  him- 
self :  he  woke  me  with  a  kiss '  (Moody,  Sovereign  Grace,  Lond. 
1899,  p.  116).  The  Christian  of  the  unconscious  type,  who  has 
never  felt  a  single  reaction  or  upheaval,  may  join  hands  with 
the  convert  who  knows  himself  to  be  a  brand  plucked  from  the 
burning,  to  whom  conversion  is  a  thing  volcanic  or  cataclysmic, 
in  whom  'habits  of  years'  standing  are  overthrown  in  as  many 


110 


CONVICTION 


moments,'  and  whose  '  very  organic  impulses  and  desires  are  bo 
utterly  transformed  that  he  can  scarcely  recognize  himself 
(Pratt,  Psychology  of  Religious  Belief,  p.  251). 

(5)  Conversion  is  stilla  mystery. — In  being  studied 
scientifically,  spiritual  phenomena  lose  none  of  their 
Divine  significance.  Psychology  has  done  much 
and  will  yet  do  more ;  it  even  asserts  that,  '  if  we 
know  the  person  psychologically,  we  can  prophesy 
quite  correctly  the  type  of  his  conversion,  whether 
sudden  or  gradual,  quiet  or  excited'  (Cutten,  Psych. 
Phen.  of  Christianity,  p.  255).  But,  after  all, 
psychology  can  see  only  the  under  side  of  con- 
version. Spiritual  life,  like  natural  life,  is  in  its 
final  cause  and  real  nature  inscrutable.  Nothing 
can  be  more  crude  than  the  notion  that  to  discover 
the  reign  of  law  is  to  eliminate  God  and  mystery. 
Law  is  only  God's  uniform  method  of  working, 
and  '  He  is  in  the  field  when  He  is  most  invisible.' 
We  have  not  to  deal  with  a  God  remote  from  the 
world  and  manifested  only  through  occasional 
interferences  with  the  order  of  Nature,  but  with  a 
God  whose  dwelling  and  working  are  in  the  lives 
of  men.  Just  as  the  correlation  of  brain  states 
with  mental  states  does  not  prove  the  case  of  the 
materialist,  so  the  correlation  of  conversion  with 
certain  mental  and  physical  forces  is  far  from 
proving  that  the  inception  and  growth  of  the 
spiritual  life  is  not  a  Divine  act. 

*That  it  [conversion]  may  all  be  due  to  so-called  natural 
causes,'  says  Romanes,  'is  no  evidence  against  its  so-called 
supernatural  source,  unless  we  beg  the  whole  question  of  the 
Divine  in  Nature'  (op.  tit.  p.  163).  Even  Ritschl,  with  all 
his  dislike  for  mysticism,  never  denies  that  God  Himself  is 
present  and  operative  in  regeneration,  using  the  religious 
community  as  His  medium,  not  His  substitute.  '  This  wonder- 
ful change,'  says  Pfleiderer, '  is  not  arbitrarily  brought  about  by 
man  himself,  but  experienced  as  a  thing  that  has  happened  to 
him  ;  it  appears  to  him  as  the  operation  of  a  higher  power,  as 
the  gift  of  undeserved  divine  favour  or  grace.  And  is  not  this 
in  truth  the  case  ?  Careful  thought,  in  fact,  can  do  nothing  but 
confirm  what  the  believer  holds  as  a  truth  requiring  no  proof ' 
{Philosophy  of  Religion,  Eng.  tr.  iv.  [18S8]  128). 

Froude  complains  that  conversion,  like  other 
Christian  doctrines,  has  been  '  pawed  and  fingered 
by  unctuous  hands  for  now  near  two  hundred  years. 
The  bloom  is  gone  from  the  flower.  The  plumage, 
once  shining  with  hues  direct  from  heaven,  is 
soiled  and  bedraggled.  The  most  solemn  of  all 
realities  have  been  degraded  into  the  passwords  of 
technical  theology'  (Life  of  Bunyan,  London, 
1880,  p.  34).  But  all  that  is  needed  to  bring  hack 
the  bloom  to  the  flower  and  the  plumage  to  the 
wing  is  a  new  springtime.  Human  errors  and 
caricatures  do  not  alter  Divine  facts,  any  more 
than  the  mists  extinguish  the  stars.  A  wide 
survey  of  the  data  of  the  spiritual  life  leads  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  majority  of  conversions  have 
little  of  the  picturesque  or  dramatic  in  them ; 
that  some  take  place  beneath  the  threshold  of  con- 
sciousness ;  that  others  are  but  dumb  yearnings 
of  penitence  and  faith  towards  God;  that  the 
memorabilia  of  soul-life  are  usually  very  brief, 
the  convert  sometimes  limiting  himself  to  the 
wondering  exclamation,  '  Whereas  I  was  blind,  now 
I  see'  (Jn  9M).  Yet  every  conversion  enfolds  in 
itself  a  Divine  secret — the  mystery  of  life — whose 
power  and  beauty  will  gradually  be  unfolded  to 
the  eye,  but  whose  inner  significance  no  mind  can 
penetrate.  The  psychological  study  of  the  New 
Life  will  probably  do  more  than  anything  else  to 
convince  the  twentieth  century  of  the  immanence 
and  the  transcendence  of  God. 

LrrERATr/RE.— B.  Jo.wett,  Theological  Essays,  London,  1906  ; 
G.  J.  Romanes,  Thoughts  on  Religion®,  London,  1896;  Henry 
Drummond,  The  New  Evangelism,  London,  1899 ;  D.  W. 
Simon,  Twice  Born  and  other  Sermons,  London ;  D.  W. 
Forrest,  Tht  Christ  of  Hist,  and  of  Experience'',  Edin.  1901; 
John  Watson,  The  Inspiration  of  our  Faith,  London,  1905  ; 
George  Jackson,  The  Fact  of  Conversion,  London,  1908 ;  N. 
H.  Marshall,  Conversion  or  the  New  Birth,  London,  1909; 
O.  Pfleiderer,  Philosophy  of  Religion,  Eng.  tr.  4  vols.,  London, 
1886-88;  Seeberg,  art.  'Bekehrung,'  in  PRE*;  W.  James, 
Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  London,  1902,  pp.  189-258  ; 
A  H.  Daniels,  '  The  New  Life,'  in  Amer.  Journ.  of  Psychol,  vi. 


[1895] ;  F.  Granger,  The  Soul  of  a  Christian,  London,  1900 ; 
G.  B.  Cutten,  Psychological  Phenomena  of  Christianity, 
London,  1909 ;  J.  H.  Leuba,  '  A  Study  in  the  Psychology  of 
Religious  Faith,'  in  Amer.  Journ.  of  Relig.  Psychol,  i.  [1890] 
65  ff.  ;  G.  A.  Coe,  Religion  of  a  Mature  Mind,  London  and 
New  York,  1902,  also  The  Spiritual  Life,  New  York,  1900 ; 
J.  B.  Pratt,  Psychology  of  Religious  Belief,  New  York, 
1907 ;  E.  D.  Starbuck,  Psychology  of  Religion,  London, 
1899,  1901 ;  G.  S.  Hall,  Adolescence,  New  York,  1904 ;  F.  M. 
Davenport,  Primitive  Traits  in  Religious  Revivals,  New  York, 

1905.  James  Strachan. 

CONVICTION. — I.  Conviction  in  relation  to 
belief. — Conviction  that  certain  doctrines  of  re- 
ligion are  true  is  seldom  or  never  the  result  of  a 
rational  process  :  it  rather  springs  from  a  feeling 
in  the  mind  that  the  doctrines  suit  a  mental  and 
emotional  condition  and  bring  peace  to  the  soul. 
As  Schopenhauer  has  well  said  : 

*  Man  has,  as  a  rule,  no  faculty  for  weighing  reasons  and  dis- 
criminating between  what  is  false  and  what  is  true  ;  and,  be- 
sides, the  labour  which  nature  and  the  needs  of  nature  impose 
upon  him  leaves  him  no  time  for  such  inquiries,  or  for  the 
education  which  they  presuppose.  In  his  ca6e,  therefore,  it  is 
no  use  talking  of  a  reasoned  conviction  ;  he  has  to  fall  back  on 
belief  and  authority '  (Religion :  a  Dialogue,  tr.  by  T.  B. 
Saunders,  1889,  p.  19). 

Conviction  implies  active  acceptance  of  proposi- 
tions as  indubitably  true.  It  is  not  in  itself  any 
proof  of  truth,  because  different  people'  may  have 
diametrically  opposite  convictions,  and  some  con- 
victions have  led  to  most  lamentable  results  in 
persecutions,  and  in  denial  of  equality  in  human 
rights  and  liberties.  Bagehot  remarks,  in  discuss- 
ing '  The  Emotion  of  Conviction ' : 

'  Nor  is  this  intensity  a  sign  of  truth,  for  it  is  precisely 
strongest  on  those  points  in  which  men  differ  most  from  each 
other.  John  Knox  felt  it  in  his  anti  -  Catholicism  ;  Ignatius 
Loyola  in  his  anti-Protestantism ;  and  both,  I  suppose,  felt  it 
as  much  as  it  is  possible  to  feel  it '  (Lit.  Studies,  1879,  ii.  414). 

All  experience  shows  that  the  personal  equation, 
idiosyncrasy,  or  state  of  development  of  each  ego 
is  a  prominent  factor  in  the  determination  of  con- 
victions. The  convictions  of  the  two  clever  men, 
Cardinal  Newman  and  his  brother  F.  W.  Newman, 
were  widely  apart,  although  their  heredity  was 
the  same,  and  their  upbringing  was  under  identical 
general  circumstances.  In  the  case  of  these  two 
thinkers,  the  divergence,  of  course,  could  only 
have  been  due  to  their  different  emotional  and 
mental  natures  in  different  stages  of  development, 
for  the  same  subject  -  matter  of  conviction  was 
before  the  mind  of  each  of  them. 

Conviction,  then,  as  a  feeling  of  reality  indicating 
truth,  is  not  fully  trustworthy  in  respect  of  pro- 
positions as  a  whole,  yet  we  may  be  assured  that 
when  the  feelings  are  stirred,  there  are  elements  in 
the  doctrines  believed  which  are  true  relatively 
both  to  some  universal  principles  and  to  the  corre- 
sponding principles  in  man.  For  man  is  potentially, 
though  not  actually,  the  measure  of  the  universe. 
The  outer  form  of  beliefs  is  often  false,  while  the 
inner  life — that  which  awakens  emotional  response 
— is  true  either  for  higher  or  for  lower  stimulation 
to  development.  Convictions  suitable  and  useful  to 
low  stages  of  human  evolution  are  eventually  out- 
grown and  seen  to  be  erroneous.  They  are  then 
replaced  by  others  more  true  to  outer  and  inner 
conditions,  and  more  efficacious  in  promoting  the 
growth  of  the  soul. 

There  is  also  what  may  be  called  a  coercive 
element  in  belief  and  conviction.  This  proceeds 
from  pressure  of  environment,  eventuating  in  the 
imposing  of  the  customary  opinion  of  those  around 
on  the  unresisting  and  undiscriminating  mind. 
G.  F.  Stout  has  said  : 

'  There  must ...  in  the  framing  of  a  belief  be  always  some  en- 
deavour to  conform  to  conditions  other  than,  and  independent 
of,  our  own  subjective  tendencies.  Our  inability  to  attain  ends 
otherwise  than  through  certain  means  constitutes  a  restriction 
of  mental  activity  within  more  or  less  definite  channels '  (Manual 
of  Psychology  2,  1901,  p.  567  f.).. 

It  is  only  the  thinker  who  can  stand  alone  ;  most 
people  do  not  think,  but  readily  coma  under  the 


CONVOCATION 


111 


personal  influence  of  those  who  confidently  and 
plausibly  profl'er  doctrines  and  statements  for  the 
acceptance  of  ill-equipped  minds. 

Respecting  conviction  as  the  result  of  a  mental 
process,  and  determined  by  evidence,  there  is 
usually  a  change  of  belief  and  of  mind-content. 
Here  we  have  the  force  of  evidence  driving  out  old 
belief  and  substituting  new  ;  conviction  then  leaves 
old  opinion  and  clings  to  new.  In  this  case  the 
feeling  of  reality  comes  as  a  response  to  the  force 
of  evidence  applied  by  comparison  and  judgment. 

'What  ia  believed  to  be  real  (and  so  said  to  be  known)  is 
indeed  mainly  a  matter  of  intellection  ;  but  it  is  also  a  matter 
of  both  feeling  and  will.  In  respect  of  all  the  higher  intellectual, 
sesthetical,  ethical,  and  religious  realities,  feeling  and  choice 
largely  determine  knowledge  through  the  dependence  of  this 
belief  on  them.  Yet  we  have  spoken  of  this  belief  as  feeling, 
not  because  it  is  a  special  form  of  affective  phenomena,  but 
because  as  conviction — having  that  warmth  of  colouring  which 
the  word  implies — it  may  be  regarded  as  a  sort  of  universal 
affective  accompaniment  of  the  intellectual  and  voluntary 
aspects  of  all  knowledge'  (G.  T.  Ladd,  Psychology,  1894, 
p.  514). 

Convictions  are  beliefs  accepted  and  vitalized  by 
the  emotions  of  those  convinced  that  realities  are 
indicated  by  them.  The  acceptance  of  beliefs  is 
partly  determined  by  the  absence  of  contradictory 
beliefs  in  the  mind  when  the  new  propositions  are 
tendered.     This  fact  Buckle  long  ago  pointed  out. 

'  The  sense  that  anything  we  think  of  is  unreal  can  only  come 
when  that  thing  ia  contradicted  by  some  other  thing  of  which 
we  think.  Any  object  which  remains  uncontradicted  is  ipso 
facto  believed  and  posited  as  absolute  reality '  (W.  James,  The 
Principles  of  Psychology,  1905,  vol.  ii.  p.  288  f .). 

The  absence  of  antagonistic  ideas  in  the  mind 
permits  indiscriminately  the  acceptance  of  true 
and  of  false  forms  of  belief.  Children  may  be 
brought  up  to  believe  almost  anything  religious. 
In  the  same  way  the  presence  of  beliefs  antagon- 
istic to  proffered  ideas  may  as  often  keep  out 
the  true  as  the  false.  Bias  towards  false  forms, 
and  erroneous  prejudice,  make  impossible  the 
advent  of  certain  truths  to  the  soul.  Hence  it  is 
that  new  general  truths  are  seldom  acquired  after 
mental  maturity.  Minds  usually  become  hope- 
lessly biased  long  before  middle  age.  While  cre- 
dulity may  sometimes  permit  the  truth  to  enter, 
constant  incredulity  resists  the  truth  and  hugs  old 
errors. 

The  test  of  actuality  we  find  in  our  own  con- 
sciousness and  life.  '  Whatever  things  have  intimate 
and  continuous  connexion  with  my  life  are  things 
of  whose  reality  I  cannot  doubt'  (James,  op.  cit. 
p.  298).  Doctrines  strongly  stirring  the  higher 
emotions,  and  not  conflicting  with  prejudice, 
appeal  with  a  force  which  carries  conviction  with 
it,  though  the  doctrines  may  vary  with  all  the 
religions  of  the  world.  Truth  hides  under  many 
forms.  "We  may  be  sure  that,  in  all  these  vary- 
ing doctrines  as  applied  to  the  human  heart,  there 
is  a  living  element  of  eternal  truth.  God  does  not 
forsake  the  beings  that  have  emanated  from  Him- 
self. Each  soul  has  the  conditions  and  the  know- 
ledge it  can  bear  and  make  use  of  under  the  religion 
it  is  born  to  or  adopts. 

2.  Conviction  of  sin  is  usually  present  in  the 
state  of  consciousness  known  as  conversion  (q. v.) , 
or  change  of  heart.  It  is  a  'sense  of  sin,'  a  feel- 
ing of  unworthiness  and  general  wretchedness, 
accompanied  by  a  strong  desire  to  lead  a  better 
life.  It  is  shown  by  a  more  or  less  sudden  distaste 
for  accustomed  thought,  language,  and  conduct, 
and  by  a  new-found  yearning  within  for  an  im- 
proved state  of  being.  Conviction  may  last  for 
days,  months,  or  years  before  the  crisis,  or  con- 
version, supervenes,  and  this  is  followed  by  rest- 
fulness  of  mind  and  lightness  of  heart.  Conversion 
is  described  by  Starbuck  as  a  sudden  forsaking  of 
the  lower  for  the  higher  self  : 

'  A  process  of  struggling  away  from  sin,  rather  than  of  striving 
toward  righteousness ;  ...  it  seems  to  be  a  step  in  growth 
which  calls  in  to  activity  the  deeper  instinctB.  .  .  .  The  feelings, 


which  are  the  primal  elements  in  consciousness,  function  so 
strongly.  In  the  tendency  to  resist  conviction  we  see,  also,  an 
indication  that  the  new  life  is  forcing  its  way  even  against  the 
person's  will '  {The  Psychology  of  Religion,  1899,  p.  64). 

Though  the  proximate  cause  of  conviction  of  sin 
is  often  fear  of  torments  to  come,  yet  we  may 
be  sure  that  behind  this  fear  there  are  certain 
emotional  and  mental  conditions  ripe  for  a  change 
to  a  higher  state. 

Viewing  the  phenomena  observable  at  great 
religious  revivals,  such  as  the  movement  among 
the  Welsh  people  in  the  years  1904-1905,  we  may 
recognize,  despite  certain  objectionable  features 
and  mistaken  views  and  conduct,  the  action  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  in  meeting  the  aspirations  of  those  who 
are  struggling  amid  the  difficulties  and  illusions  of 
the  lower  planes  of  emotion.  It  is  through  the 
power  of  the  Spirit,  which  is  the  life-force  of  the 
universe,  that  the  transmutation  of  the  emotions 
is  effected,  and  this  must  be  at  the  bidding  of  the 
lower  nature.  The  raising  of  the  emotions  to 
higher  levels  is  part  of  the  process  of  evolution, 
and,  when  accomplished,  is  a  sign  of  the  soul's 
development,  or  growth  in  grace. 

Literature. — The  literature  is  given  in  the  article. 

G.  A.  Gaskell. 

CONVOCATION.— This  is  the  name  given  to 
the  general  assembly  of  the  clergy  of  the  Church 
of  England.  The  older  name  was  'synod,'  of 
which  '  convocation '  became  the  equivalent  when 
English  began  to  take  the  place  of  Latin  in  the 
official  documents  of  the  Church.  We  read  of  the 
'  Synode  of  London '  in  1553,  but  of  the  '  convo- 
cation holden  in  London '  in  1562.  The  synodal 
activity  of  the  Christian  Church  is  coeval  with  her 
life.  It  gradually  took  form  in  diocesan,  pro- 
vincial, and  national  synods,  and  these  different 
forms  of  synods  were  held  wherever  Christianity 
was  established.  The  British  Church,  in  common 
with  the  rest  of  Christendom,  was  familiar  with 
conciliar  action — witness  the  Council  of  Verulam 
in  A.D.  446.  In  Anglo-Saxon  times,  Church 
Councils  were  assembled  '  acourse  with  our  Parlia- 
ments '  as  national  synods,  while  the  bishops  and 
clergy  in  addition  were  constituent  members  of  the 
'  great  council '  of  the  nation. 

In  Norman  times  the  conciliar  activity  of  the 
Church  became  still  greater.  Bishops,  abbots, 
priors,  archdeacons,  and  deans  were  summoned ; 
but  the  first  known  instance  of  the  representative 
element  occurs  in  1225  under  Langton.  Later  in 
this  century,  however,  we  have  proof  of  direct 
representation  in  a  provincial  synod,  for  in  1273 
we  find  Archbishop  Kilwarby  issuing  his  mandate 
to  the  Bishop  of  London  in  these  terms  : 

'  You  are  to  direct  on  our  part  each  of  the  suffragan  bishops 
of  our  Church  to  call  and  bring  with  him  to  the  aforesaid  synod 
three  or  four  of  the  greater,  more  discreet,  and  prudent 
persons  of  his  Church  and  diocese,  that  by  the  assistance  of 
their  common  counsel  such  important  affairs  of  the  Church  of 
God  by  His  aiding  mercy  may  be  brought  to  a  happy  con- 
clusion.' 

Four  years  later  '  proctors  of  all  clergy  of  each 
diocese '  were  specifically  named  in  a  similar  man- 
date. In  1283,  Archbishop  Peckham  ordered  the 
attendance  of  two  proctors  for  the  clergy  of  each 
diocese  as  well  as  one  for  each  cathedral  and 
collegiate  church,  and  this  seems  to  have  become 
the  rule  for  the  Province  of  Canterbury.  In  the 
Province  of  York,  the  rule,  dating  from  1279,  was 
that  two  proctors  for  the  clergy  should  attend  from 
each  archdeaconry.  Side  by  side  with  provincial 
synods  were  diocesan  synods,  which  were  held 
under  their  several  bishops  to  enforce  the  decrees 
of  the  provincial  synods.  National  synods  fell 
into  disuse  through  the  jealousy  felt  by  the  two 
Archbishops  of  their  respective  claims. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  this  synodal  action  of  the 
Church  preceded  the  attempt  made  by  Edward  I. 
in  1295  to  incorporate  the  clergy  into  his  newly- 


112 


CO-OPERATION 


devised  parliamentary  system.  The  king  hoped 
that  the  clergy  would  not  only  meet,  as  heretofore, 
as  the  spiritual  councillors  of  the  Archbishops,  but 
that  they  would  also  add  to  their  spiritual  duties 
the  further  duty  of  sitting  in  Parliament  as  his 
council,  especially  to  make  it  easier  for  him  to 
raise  money  by  taxation.  The  king's  attempt, 
however,  failed  through  the  refusal  of  the  clergy 
to  obey  the  royal  summons  addressed  to  them, 
through  the  Archbishops,  in  the  famous  prae- 
munientes  clause.  The  Crown  acquiesced,  after 
1340,  in  the  rule  that  the  clergy  should  tax  them- 
selves in  their  Convocation,  and  in  consequence 
the  attendance  of  proctors  in  Parliament  did  not 
outlive  the  following  century.  The  writ  with  the 
prcemunientes  clause  is  still  issued  at  the  summon- 
ing of  every  Parliament,  but  is  never  obeyed. 
Convocation,  however,  is  still  summoned  in  both 
Provinces  whenever  Parliament  is  summoned, 
though  it  would  seem  that  there  is  nothing  to 
hinder  its  meeting  at  other  times  '  if  the  existence 
of  affairs  shall  so  require.' 

Convocation,  in  common  with  the  Church  of 
England  as  a  whole,  lost  much  of  its  independence, 
and  at  the  same  time  much  of  its  power  and 
influence,  at  the  Reformation.  The  Act  of  Sub- 
mission (25  Henry  VIII.  c.  19)  embodies  in  its  pre- 
amble an  Act  of  Convocation  abjuring  all  power 
to  make  or  act  on  any  canons  without  the  king's 
consent ;  and  it  affirms  that  Convocation  always 
had  been,  and  ought  always  to  be,  assembled  only 
by  the  king's  writ.  Accordingly,  Convocation 
was  reduced  to  an  instrument  of  the  '  Supreme 
Head'  or  'Supreme  Governor'  for  ecclesiastical 
purposes,  and  was  given  the  duties  of  considering 
forms  of  public  worship,  articles  of  religion,  and 
canons,  though  not  as  possessing  any  independent 
effective  authority.  Indeed,  it  is  now  an  estab- 
lished rule  of  law  that  canons  made  by  the  clergy 
in  Convocation  are  of  no  binding  power  over  the 
laity. 

After  the  Restoration,  Convocation  prepared  in 
1661  the  Act  of  Uniformity,  revised  the  Prayer- 
Book,  and  re-modelled  the  canons.  The  same 
Convocation  is  remarkable  as  being  the  last  to 
grant  a  clerical  subsidy— acting,  it  is  said,  in 
dropping  the  custom,  upon  a  verbal  agreement 
made  between  the  Lord  Chancellor  Clarendon  and 
Archbishop  Sheldon.  This  has  been  declared  to  be 
'  the  greatest  alteration  in  the  constitution  ever 
made  without  an  express  law. '  Since  this  change 
Convocation  has  ceased  to  enjoy  any  political 
importance. 

After  the  Revolution,  the  history  of  Convocation 
is  a  story  of  bitter  conflicts  between  the  two 
Houses,  in  which  Atterbury,  Wake,  and  Burnet 
played  leading  parts.  This  conflict  culminated  in 
1717,  when  the  Lower  House  was  about  to  censure 
the  writings  of  Bishop  Hoadley,  whereupon  Con- 
vocation was  prorogued  by  royal  writ,  and  met  no 
more  (except  formally  till  1741)  until  it  was  again 
summoned  for  business  in  1852,  through  the  efforts 
of  Bishop  Wilberforce  and  others. 

Convocation  now  assembles  concurrently  with 
Parliament,  being  summoned  by  a  royal  writ 
addressed  to  the  Archbishops.  In  Canterbury  the 
Upper  House  consists  of  23  members,  the  Lower  of 
154.  In  the  Province  of  York  the  corresponding 
numbers  are  9  and  69.  The  custom  of  separating 
into  Upper  arid  Lower  houses  dates  from  the  end 
of  the  14th  cent.,  when  the  inferior  clergy  began 
to  withdraw  into  a  lower  room,  viz.  one  under 
the  chapter-house  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  or  a 
school-room  in  the  crypt. 

Though  Convocation  is  described  in  Canon  139 
of  1604  as  '  the  true  Church  of  England  by  repre- 
sentation,' it  remains  an  unreformed  body.  The 
official  element   is   preponderant,   and    the  large 


body  of  stipendiary  curates  is  without  any  voice  in 
the  election  of  clergy-proctors.  It  is  not  surprising, 
therefore,  that  Convocation  exercises  but  little 
influence  over  the  minds  of  the  majority  of  the 
members  of  the  Church  of  England,  though  it 
affords  an  excellent  opportunity  for  the  more 
highly-placed  clergy  to  discuss  affairs  as  they  affect 
the  Church,  and  though  its  debates  and  reports 
are  of  a  uniformly  high  order,  and  are  frequently 
of  permanent  value.  See  also  art.  Church  of 
England. 

Literature. — T.  Lathbury,  Hist,  of  Convocation?,  London, 
1853 ;  D.  WUkins,  Concilia  Mag.  Brit.,  do.  1737 ;  J.  W. 
Joyce,  England's  Sacred  Synods,  do.  1855 ;  E.  Cardwell, 
Synodalia,  Oxford,  1842 ;  R.  Phillimore,  Ecclesiastical 
Law2,  London,  1895,  vol.  ii. ;  W.  Kennett,  Ecclesiastical 
Synods,  do.  1701 ;  E.  Gibson,  Synodus  Anglicana,  ed.  E 
Cardwell,  Oxford,  1854,  also  Codex  jur.  eccles.  Angl.,  London, 

1713.  w.  F.  Cobb. 

CO-OPERATION.— Co-operation  (i.e.  literally 
'  working  together ')  might  express  any  combined 
action  of  two  or  more  persons  for  any  purpose.  It 
is  used  in  general,  and  will  be  employed  here,  to 
denote  the  combinations  of  working  men  for 
production  or  distribution  of  commodities,  including 
incidentally  some  other  forms  of  mutual  help.  In 
1794,  Dr.  Shute  Barrington,  bishop  of  Durham, 
established  a  co-operative  store  at  Mongewell,  in 
the  county  of  Oxford,  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor 
cf  that  and  three  small  adjoining  parishes.  A 
quantity  of  bacon,  cheese,  and  other  articles  was 
procured  from  wholesale  dealers  to  be  subdivided 
and  sold  at  prime  cost  for  ready  money.  The 
salesman  was  an  infirm  old  man  who  could  not 
read  or  write,  but  his  honesty  was  unimpeached, 
and  he  was  allowed  a  shilling  a  week  as  well  as 
the  benefit  of  the  shop.  The  transactions  of  1796 
amounted  to  £223.  The  net  saving  to  the  poor  in 
the  cost  of  their  supplies  was  21  per  cent.  In  1800, 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Glasse  opened  a  similar  village  shop 
at  Greenford  in  Middlesex.  The  receipts  for  six 
months  exceeded  £150,  and  the  margin  of  saving 
was  from  15  to  25  per  cent  according  to  the  nature 
of  the  article  sold.  A  third  was  established  about 
the  same  time  at  Hanwell,  by  the  Rev.  G.  Glasse, 
vicar  of  that  parish,  with  like  success.  In  all 
three  cases,  great  good  was  done  by  avoiding  the 
burden  of  debt. 

In  1795,  a  co-operative  saw-mill  was  established 
at  Hull,  and  it  continued  in  operation  for  a  hundred 
years.  In  1796  a  parish  windmill  was  erected  by 
subscription  on  Barham  Downs  in  the  county  of 
Kent,  and  in  1797  one  at  Chislehurst.  A  co- 
operative society  at  Nottingham  has  existed  for 
more  than  100  years. 

In  1844,  a  few  workmen  of  Rochdale  joined 
in  establishing  a  society  called  the  '  Equitable 
Pioneers,'  and  that  Society  was  so  successful  that 
their  example  was  followed  in  many  parts  of  the 
country.  It  now  has  more  than  16,000  members 
holding  £300,000  in  shares,  and  its  sales  amount  to 
£340,000  a  year.  A  portion  of  its  profits  is  yearly 
applied  to  educational  purposes.  The  paid  up 
capital  consists  largely  of  accumulation  of  past 
profits.  No  credit  is  given.  By  its  means  the 
workmen  of  Rochdale  have  been  enabled  to  supply 
themselves  with  necessaries  of  life,  genuine  in 
quality  and  at  a  cheap  price,  and  to  accumulate 
out  of  their  savings  and  the  profits  of  their  trade 
a  capital  sum  averaging  nearly  £20  for  each  share- 
holder. This  Society  was  registered  as  a  Friendly 
Society  under  the  Act  of  1846. 

In  1850,  the  Rev.  F.  D.  Maurice,  the  Rev.  Chas. 
Kingsley,  Mr.  J.  M.  Ludlow,  Mr.  T.  Hughes,  Mr. 
E.  Vansittart  Neale,  and  others,  joined  in  the 
formation  of  a  Society  for  promoting  Workmen's 
Associations,  and  commenced  a  Working  Tailors' 
Association.    The  excellent  motives  and  aspirations 


COPTIC  CHURCH 


113 


by  which  they  were  actuated  had  been  eloquently 
set  forth  in  a  series  of  tracts  by  those  accomplished 
men ;  and,  if  they  could  have  found  a  body  of 
members  and  officers  capable  of  carrying  out  their 
ideas  in  a  business-like  manner,  the  associations 
which  they  formed  might  have  done  lasting  good. 
As  it  was,  their  enterprise  greatly  impressed  the 
public  mind  and  rendered  it  familiar  with  the  idea 
of  co-operation.  Though  their  initiative  as  patrons 
of  co-operation  was  a  failure,  they  remained  the 
true  friends,  and  in  some  sense  the  apostles,  of  the 
co-operative  movement,  and  to  their  advice  and 
counsel  is  due  much  of  the  success  that  has  attended 
that  movement  under  the  direct  management  of 
the  working  men  themselves. 

The  undertakings  which  experienced  this  early 
check  were  productive ;  those  which  followed  the 
lines  laid  down  by  the  Kochdale  pioneers  were 
distributive,  though,  in  the  long  run,  it  has  not 
been  unusual  for  a  distributive  store  to  find  it 
worth  while  to  undertake  productive  business  as 
well.  It  is  obvious  that  a  productive  enterprise 
has  elements  of  difficulty  that  are  absent  from  a 
mere  distributive  store.  The  essential  principle  of 
co-operation  seems  to  be  that  the  man  who  contri- 
butes his  labour  to  the  production  of  the  commodity 
is  entitled  to  share  in  the  produce  after  a  sufficient 
sinking  fund  to  replace  the  capital  expended  in  the 
plant  has  been  set  aside,  and  hence  a  system  of 
profit-sharing  has  been  introduced,  upon  which,  of 
late,  attempts  have  been  made  to  establish  produc- 
tive businesses.  There  is  reason  to  think,  however, 
that  the  distributive  element  in  co-operation  will 
remain  its  more  prominent  feature. 

The  sharing  of  profit  implies  logically  the  sharing 
of  loss ;  and  this  is  the  rock  upon  which  some 
productive  enterprises  have  split.  Yet  it  is  evident 
that  the  social  reforms  which  were  in  the  minds 
of  the  early  promoters  of  co-operation  are  to  be 
realized  rather  by  the  productive  element  of  it 
than  by  mere  distribution,  useful  as  that  is  in  many 
respects. 

A  further  development  of  co-operation  has  arisen 
in  the  union  of  a  number  of  stores  to  form  a 
wholesale  society ;  and  the  wholesale  societies  of 
Manchester  and  Glasgow  are  striking  examples  of 
the  power  of  associations  of  working  men  to  carry 
on  gigantic  undertakings  by  means  of  small  savings. 
The  Manchester  society  (to  which  more  than  1000 
societies  contribute)  effected  sales  of  goods  for 
nearly  £25,000,000  and  earned  profits  exceeding 
£600,000  in  the  last  year  recorded.  It  acts  as  the 
banker  of  the  smaller  stores,  and  transacts  a  vast 
business  in  that  capacity.  It  owns  a  fleet  of  ships, 
and  has  warehouses  both  at  home  and  abroad  in 
which  a  variety  of  industries  are  carried  on.  The 
total  number  of  societies  registered  under  the  Indus- 
trial and  Provident  Societies  Act  in  the  United 
Kingdom  is  2800  ;  the  number  of  members  exceeds 
2,500,000 ;  the  amount  of  funds,  £58,000,000.  It 
will  be  readily  inferred  from  these  figures  how  great 
has  been  the  influence  of  these  societies  upon  the 
welfare  of  the  industrial  population.  The  same 
inference  may  be  drawn  from  the  fact  that,  accord- 
ing to  a  previous  return,  344  societies  had  built  or 
aided  in  building  37,000  houses  for  their  members, 
while  more  than  £8,000,000  had  been  expended  in 
building  those  houses  or  been  advanced  to  the 
members  to  enable  them  to  do  so. 

Another  branch  of  co-operative  enterprise  has 
had  more  success  abroad  than  in  this  country. 
People's  Banks  and  agricultural  credit  societies 
flourish  in  Italy  and  in  Germany,  and  are  now 
being  actively  promoted  here.  In  Ireland,  Sir 
Horace  Plunkett  has  established  a  number  of  co- 
operative creameries  with  excellent  results. 

Literature. — G.J.  Holyoake,  Hist,  of  Co-operation  in  Eng., 
Lond.  1875-1879,  and  Self-help  a  hundred  years  ago,  do.  1888 ; 
VOL.  IV. — S 


Annual  Reports  of  Co-operative  Congresses  from  1869,  passim  ; 
Reports  of  Chief  Registrar  of  Friendly  Societies  from  1876, 
passim  ;  H.  W.  Wolff,  People's  Ranks :  A  Record  of  Social  and 
Economic  Success3,  Lond.  1910.  E.  W.  BRABROOK. 

COPTIC  CHURCH.  —  Introductory.  —When 
Christianity  was  first  introduced  into  Egypt,  it 
found  itself  confronted  not  only  by  the  religious 
environment  common  to  all  Hellenistic  provinces 
of  the  Roman  Empire,  but  also  by  the  influence  of 
the  old  native  religion.  The  latter,  although  be- 
ginning to  show  signs  of  the  rapid  decay  which 
was  soon  to  overtake  it,  was  still  immensely  power- 
ful, especially  in  the  towns  and  villages  situated  at 
some  distance  up  the  Nile,  away  from  Alexandria. 
In  certain  ways  it  had  scarcely  been  touched  by 
Hellenic  influence,  and  had,  indeed,  rather  itself 
influenced  Hellenic  thought.  It  had  certainly 
impressed  itself  strongly  on  the  imagination  of  the 
Platonic  idealists  of  Alexandria,  as  is  evidenced  by 
Plutarch's  treatise  de  Iside  et  Osiride  and  by  bk.  xi. 
of  the  Metamorphoses  of  Apuleius.  But,  although 
at  the  beginning  of  the  Roman  period  the  native 
priests  still  kept  alight  the  sacred  lamp  of  religious 
knowledge,  the  general  mass  of  the  people  had 
become  ignorant  of  a  great  number  of  the  lesser- 
known  deities,  and  of  the  meaning  of  much  of  the 
ceremonial.  Nevertheless,  the  main  doctrines  of 
the  old  religion  were  as  firmly  rooted  as  ever.  The 
worship  of  the  gods  of  the  dead  was  still  para- 
mount, and  especially  there  remained  unshaken 
the  belief  in  the  dead  man-god  Osiris,  who  had 
been  slain  by  the  power  of  Evil,  but  who  lived 
again  as  king  of  the  dead.  The  people  still  believed 
in  the  so-called  '  resurrection,'  that  is  to  say,  they 
thought  it  was  possible  that  the  dead  might  live 
for  ever  if  the  same  ceremonies  were  carried  out 
which  enabled  Osiris  to  escape  corruption.  Also, 
if  we  may  rely  on  such  papyri  as  that  containing 
the  tale  of  Setne  Khaemuas  and  Si-Osiri,  not  only 
was  the  weighing  of  the  dead  man's  good  and  evil 
deeds  still  thought  to  be  necessary  before  the  soul 
could  pass  the  judgment-hall  of  Osiris,  but  very 
elevated  notions  of  morality  and  justice  played  an 
important  part  in  the  hopes  pertaining  to  eternal 
felicity.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Greek  syncretists 
of  Alexandria  had  adopted  the  cult  of  Osiris  and 
Isis,  and  had  transcendentalized  it  out  of  all  know- 
ledge, to  suit  the  current  Platonic  doctrines  of  the 
day ;  according  to  them,  the  mysteries  of  the  Egyp- 
tian religion  were  to  be  understood  only  by  the 
esoteric,  after  long  study  and  strict  asceticism. 
Platonism  had  also  involved  the  large  Jewish  com- 
munity in  Alexandria,  and  demanded  from  its 
devotees,  as  we  know  from  Therapeutic  ideals,  the 
practice  of  asceticism  and  contemplation.  There  can 
be  little  doubt  that  these  two  things — (1)  the  belief 
in  a  future  life  to  be  obtained  through  a  god  who 
had  himself  overcome  death,  and  (2)  the  transcen- 
dentalized form  of  Osiris-  and  Isis-worship  adopted 
by  the  Greeks,  which  demanded  asceticism  and 
abstention  from  the  desires  of  the  flesh — largely 
influenced  the  early  Christian  communities  in 
Egypt. 

I.  Introduction  of  Christianity  into  Egypt. — The 
tradition  that  St.  Mark  was  the  earliest  to  preach 
the  gospel  of  Christ  in  Alexandria  is  first  related 
by  Eusebius,  but  prefaced  by  the  word  <p6.oi.  In  spite 
of  the  tradition  being  firmly  rooted  to  this  day,  it 
tas  little  historical  value.  When  and  by  whom 
the  gospel  was  introduced  into  Egypt  is  unknown, 
and,  indeed,  the  whole  history  of  the  Alexandrian 
Church  is  enveloped  in  obscurity  until  the  episco- 
pate of  Demetrius  (A.D.  189-231),  when  it  appears 
as  a  flourishing  institution,  with  a  school  of  philo- 
sophic learning  attached  to  it  which  must  already 
have  made  its  influence  felt  far  beyond  the  city 
itself.  Eusebius  {HE  vi.  11-13)  states  that  'thou- 
sands'  were  martyred   from    Egypt   and  all   the 


114 


COPTIC  CHURCH 


Thebaid  during  the  persecution  of  Septimius  Severus 
in  202 ;  and  Clement  {Strom,  vi.  18),  writing  at 
about  this  date,  tells  us  that  Christianity  had 
spread  to  '  every  nation,  village,  and  town,'  so  that, 
even  allowing  for  exaggeration,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  new  faith  had  made  great  progress 
during  the  first  two  centuries  of  our  era.  Harnack 
(Expansion  of  Christianity2,  1908,  ii.  166  ff.)  has 
collected  a  list  of  districts  where  we  have  definite 
evidence  of  Christian  communities  prior  to  the 
persecution  under  Diocletian  in  303.  Archaeo- 
logical research  has  borne  out  the  literary  evidence 
in  several  of  the  localities.  They  are  as  follows  : 
the  districts  of  Prosopitis,  Athribis,  Sais  and 
Arsinoe,  Antinoe,  Thmues,  Philadelphia  in  the 
Arsinoite  nome,  Alexander  Insula  in  the  Fayyum, 
Hermopolis  Magna,  Nilopolis,  Ptolemais  in  Penta- 
polis,  Berenice  in  Cyrenaica,  Oxyrhynchus,  the 
oasis  of  Khargeh,  and  Esneh  (Latopolis).  As  to 
the  form  of  Church  government  during  the  earliest 
period  little  is  known.  It  is  possible,  though  by 
no  means  certain,  that  the  Didache,  or  Teaching  of 
the  Twelve  Apostles,  was  compiled  in  Egypt,  and 
may  represent  the  primitive  form  of  Church  govern- 
ment in  that  country.  From  this  work,  generally 
assigned  to  the  earliest  age  of  the  Church,  the 
order  of  bishops  and  deacons  would  appear  at  first 
to  have  been  entirely  subordinate  to  that  of  the 
'apostles'  and  'prophets,'  and  to  have  been,  at  the 
time  of  the  writer,  a  comparatively  recent  organiza- 
tion. The  'apostles'  were  itinerant  missionaries 
and  evangelists,  while  the  '  prophet '  alone  was 
allowed  to  have  a  fixed  abode  in  any  locality. 
The  latter  commanded  extraordinary  reverence, 
and  the  first-fruits  of  the  community  were  his  by 
right.  He  spoke  in  ecstasy,  and  presided  at  the 
Agape.  Nevertheless,  both  from  the  warnings 
uttered  in  the  Didache  against  false  prophets,  and 
from  the  Shepherd  of  Hermas,  we  know  that  the 
office  of  prophet  was  frequently  abused  by  fraudu- 
lent persons,  and  it  gradually  lost  prestige  until 
the  more  thorough  organization  of  bishops  and 
deacons  eventually  supplanted  it.  By  the  time  of 
the  episcopate  of  Demetrius  the  form  of  govern- 
ment represented  by  the  Didache  would  have 
disappeared  (if  it  ever  had  been  in  force  in  Egypt), 
and  we  know  that  Demetrius  himself  was  the  first 
to  appoint  other  bishops  (three  in  number)  outside 
Alexandria,  thus  probably  bringing  the  scattered 
communities  for  the  first  time  under  his  central 
jurisdiction.  Hitherto  they  had  probably  been 
under  the  direction  of  deacons  and  presbyters. 

It  is  probable  that  the  earliest  Gospels  in  circula- 
tion in  Egypt  were  not  the  canonical  ones.  In 
Clement's  day,  besides  the  four  canonical  sources 
for  the  life  and  teaching  of  Christ,  there  were 
still  in  general  use  two  other  Gospels  known  as  the 
Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews,  and  the  Gospel 
according  to  the  Egyptians.  There  is  every  reason 
to  suppose  that  these  two  documents  preceded  the 
four  Apostolic  Gospels  in  Egypt,  and  were  in  all 
probability  the  ones  used  by  the  earliest  Christian 
community  there,  for  it  is  not  likely  that  they 
would  have  forced  themselves  into  popularity  if  the 
four  sources  bearing  more  authoritative  names  had 
been  in  the  field  from  the  first.  Clement,  however, 
sharply  distinguishes  between  these  two  Gospels 
and  the  four  canonical  ones ;  and,  although  they 
were  apparently,  used  side  by  side,  it  is  evident 
that  the  two  earlier  were  beginning  to  be  dropped 
by  the  more  orthodox  at  the  commencement  of  the 
3rd  century.  The  Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews 
was  read  chiefly  by  Jewish  converts,  either  in 
Aramaic  or  in  a  Greek  translation.  It  appears  to 
have  had  Ebionite  tendencies,  in  spite  of  its  close 
parallelism  with  canonical  sources.  The  Gospel 
according  to  the  Egyptians  implies  by  its  title  that 
it  was    intended  for    use    either    by  the    native 


Egyptians,  as  distinct  from  the  Alexandrians,  or 
else  by  the  Gentile  converts  in  distinction  from 
the  Jewish.  The  latter  inference  is  the  more  prob- 
able, as  there  seems  to  have  been  little  attempt 
at  first  to  reach  the  masses  of  the  native  Egyptians, 
the  appeal  of  the  new  faith  being  made  almost 
entirely  to  those  of  Hellenic  birth  or  education. 
Here  again  we  find  that,  in  spite  of  the  close 
parallel  between  the  known  fragments  and  the 
canonical  sources,  there  is  not  only  a  tendency  to 
Modalism,  but  also  a  strong  tinge  of  Encratism. 
The  latter  was  the  doctrine  of  the  Eneratites  (q.v.), 
a  very  early  sect  within  the  Church,  which  set 
up  extreme  asceticism  and  abstinence  from  sexual 
intercourse  as  the  Christian  ideal.  There  can  be 
little  doubt  that  the  asceticism  affected  by  the 
devotees  of  Isis  and  the  Jewish  Therapeutse  had 
become  thus  introduced  in  veiy  early  times  into 
the  Christian  communities  of  Alexandria.  Clement, 
however,  defends  the  Gospel  according  to  the  Egyp- 
tians from  the  charge  of  extreme  Encratism. 

It  was  hoped  that  the  finding  of  the  now  famous 
'  Sayings  of  Jesus '  at  Oxyrhynchus  by  Grenfell 
and  Hunt  would  have  thrown  some  light  on  these 
early  uncanonical  versions ;  not  only-  have  they 
not  done  so,  but  their  own  origin  is  extremely 
uncertain. 

The  first  series  of  these  '  Sayings '  (eight  in  number)  was 
found  in  1897  with  a  host  of  other  valuable  literary  fragments, 
and  their  date,  on  palaaographical  grounds,  is  to  be  assigned  to 
about  the  year  200  or  shortly  after.  Each  saving  is  prefaced  by 
the  words  '  Jesus  saith ' ;  four  have  their  equivalent  in  the 
canonical  sources  ;  one  is  too  fragmentary  to  be  made  out ;  and 
three  are  new,  with  a  tendency  to  mysticism  And  -a  harsh  and 
severe  judgment  of  mankind.  Harnack  saw  ip  them  excerpts 
from  the  lost  Gospel  according  to  the  Egyptians  (Expositor, 
Nov.,  Dec.  1897),  but  other  theologians  and  the  finders  them- 
selves were  not  by  any  means  unanimously  in  agreement  with 
him.  The  second  series,  found  in  1903  on  the  same  site, 
written  on  the  back  of  a  land-survey  list,  is  attributed  to 
Thomas  and  another  disciple  whose  name  is  missing.  This, 
however,  may  only  be  a  bold  claim  on  the  partcf  the  writer. 
They  agree  in  form  and  in  date  with  the  first  ser'es,  but  differ 
in  being  less  akin  to  canonical  sources.  One  of  the  sayings 
is  almost  exactly  parallel  with  a  quotation  of  Clement's  from 
the  Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews,  and  can  therefore  be 
assigned  to  that  work  without  hesitation.  But  vrhether  each 
series  is  a  selection  of  sayings  from  any  one  Gospel  or  from 
different  Gospels  is  a  matter  of  considerable  doubt ;  Grenfell 
and  Hunt  themselves  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Mie  find  was 
a  collection  of  '  sayings'  as  such,  and  that  the  theor  v  of  •  xtracts 
was  unjustifiable. 

There  was  also  found  at  Oxyrhynchus  a  fragmeit  oi  an  un- 
canonical Gospel,  which  unfortunately  breaks  off  ?ust  where  it 
appears  to  be  closely  parallel  with  the  known  passjwge  from  the 
Gospel  according  to  the  Egyptians,  in  which  J  esus  ifl  represented 
as  advocating  extreme  asceticism  as  the  Christian  ideal. 
Altogether  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  Oxyrhj  uchus  finds 
have  served  to  puzzle  rather  than  to  enlighten  us  nrith  regard 
to  the  early  Christian  documents  of  Egypt. 

But  we  are  at  least  able  to  surmise  that  there 
was  considerable  uncanonical  competition  w  ith  the 
canonical  sources,  and  that  the  uncanonical  ( Jospels 
were  strongly  tinged  with  the  ascetic  ideals  pre- 
valent at  the  time  in  Alexandria ;  also,  incidentally, 
that  a  Christian  community  flourished  as  far  south 
as  Oxyrhynchus  in  A.D.  200,  if  not  earlier. 

Archaeology  also  helps  to  throw  light  on  this 
early  period  of  Christianity  in  Egypt,  although 
here  again  the  evidence  is  scattered  and  obscure. 
It  was  the  custom  at  this  time  to  ferry  the 
mummies  of  the  dead  down  the  river,  with  wooden 
tickets,  or  tesserm,  tied  round  the  neck,  bearing 
the  name  of  the  deceased  and  of  the  cemetery  to 
which  the  body  was  to  be  consigned.  A  large 
number  of  these  tesseroi  exist  in  museums  to-day. 
One  at  least  (in  the  Berlin  museum)  from  Akhmim 
was  that  of  a  Christian  ;  and,  although  the  symbol 
_j3?  on  it  has  caused  it  to  be  considered  post-Con- 
stantinian  in  date,  there  are  good  reasons  for  assign- 
ing it  to  an  earlier  period.  There  are  also  other 
tickets  couched  in  phraseology  known  to  be  Chris- 
tian, but  which  cannot  "be  absolutely  identified  as 
such.  They  at  least  prove  that  in  this  neighbourhood 
Christians  were  mummified  and  buried  in  the  same 


COPTIC  CHURCH 


116 


cemeteries  as  their  pagan  brethren — from  which  we 
may  presume  that  these  early  Egyptian  Christians 
still  believea  in  the  necessity  of  preserving  the  body 
in  order  that  the  existence  of  the  soul  might  be 
assured  (see  Dkath,  etc.  [Coptic]).  From  the  same 
site  there  came  the  fine  collection  of  tapestry,  some 
of  which  dates  from  the  earliest  times  of  the 
Roman  empire.  The  symbols  of  the  fish  and  the 
cross  occur  as  patterns,  and  these  have  been  thought 
to  have  come  from  very  early  Christian  burials. 
If  this  be  so,  it  points  to  a  Christian  community 
existing  in  Akhmim  early  in  the  2nd  century.  We 
also  have  as  evidence  the  libelli,  several  of  which 
have  been  preserved  to  us.  These  were  certificates 
issued,  during  the  persecution  of  Decius  (A.D.  250), 
to  those  who  had  recanted  by  sacrificing  publicly 
to  the  gods.  Those  to  whom  they  were  issued 
were  known  as  libellatici  ;  and,  although  it  is  not 
always  certain  that  it  was  a  Christian  to  whom  the 
libellus  was  granted,  the  probability  that  it  was 
so  is  very  strong.  Mention  must  be  made  of  the 
Epistle  of  Psenosiris  (a  presbyter  who  had  fled  to 
the  oasis  of  Khargeh,  probably  during  the  Decian 
persecutions),  in  which  he  commends  a  female  exile 
Politike  to  a  fellow-presbyter.  It  is  also  probable 
that  one  at  least  of  the  mummies  found  at  Antinoe 
is  the  remains  of  a  Christian  burial  that  may  be 
dated  as  early  as  the  close  of  the  2nd  century. 

The  name  of  the  deceased,  according  to  Gayet,  was  Euphe- 
miaan,  a  devotee  of  some  Gnostic  sect.  The  evidence  for  the 
latter  supposition  is,  however,  slender.  The  cords  which  bound 
the  shroud  were  sealed  with  a  curious  mixture  of  pagan  and 

Christian  sealings,  including  the  xfc^  ;  but,  if  the  contention  that 

this  symbol  is  evidence  of  a  post-Constantinian  age  be  correct, 
the  early  date  assigned  must  be  abandoned.  Another  remark- 
able object  from  the  same  site  is  a  shroud,  with  the  figure  of  a 
handsome  woman  painted  on  the  exterior,  in  the  manner  of  the 
beginning  of  the  2nd  century.  The  hand  is  represented  as 
clasping  a  peculiar  form  of  gilt  'crux  ansata,'  or  symbol 
of  life.  Whether  this  ia  Christian  there  must  be  considerable 
doubt. 

2.  Gnosticism  and  Arianism.  —  Although  our 
knowledge  of  the  early  Christian  communities  in 
the  upper  country  is  so  remarkably  slight,  when 
once  the  Church  became  well  established  in  Alex- 
andria the  Christians  began  to  form  an  important 
part  of  the  community  of  that  city,  while  the  works 
of  Clement  and  Origen  prove  that  the  intellectual 
stimulus  of  the  pagan  Hellenic  schools  was  not 
lost  upon  the  Christians.  The  famous  '  catecheti- 
cal' school,  founded,  according  to  Eusebius  (HE  v. 
10),  in  the  earliest  days  of  the  community,  and  pre- 
sided over  in  turn  by  Pantsenus,  Clement,  and 
Origen,  was  designed  notonly  to  teach  catechumens, 
but  also  to  appeal,  by  a  system  of  philosophy,  to 
cultivated  pagans.  In  an  age  of  apologists  its 
influence  was  very  considerable,  but  confined  en- 
tirely to  those  of  Hellenic  education.  Such  a 
propaganda  was  useless  to  the  natives  of  the  upper 
country.  The  power,  too,  of  Demetrius,  as 
sovereign  bishop  of  all  Egypt,  was  very  great ;  and 
he  must  have  occupied  a  position  similar  to  that 
of  the  pagan  '  Chief  Priest  of  Alexandria  and  all 
Egypt,'  and  the  Jewish  Ethnarch.  This  powerful 
position  was  retained  by  his  successors  until  it 
reached  its  highest  point  under  Athanasius,  and 
lasted,  indeed,  until  the  Council  of  Chalcedon. 
On  the  whole,  too,  at  first  the  Alexandrian  Church 
had  good  opportunity  of  developing  itself  free  from 
interference ;  for,  with  the  exception  of  the  persecu- 
tions of  Severus  in  202  and  of  Decius  in  250,  there 
was  little  or  no  external  pressure  brought  to  bear 
on  the  Christians.  The  real  enemy  at  this  time  lay 
within  the  Church  itself  in  the  shape  of  the  Gnostic 
sects.  The  earliest  record  of  the  conflict  between 
those  who  professed  a  higher  gnosis  and  the 
preachers  of  the  simple  gospel  is  the  dispute 
between  St.  Peter  and  Simon  Magus,  the  latter  of 
whom  appears  to  have  been  the  first  to  associate 
Christianity  with  Gnostic  mysteries.     From  Pales- 


tine the  esoteric  cult  quickly  spread  to  Egypt  by 
what  was  called  a  '  counter- Apostolic  succession'  of 
famous  Gnostic  teachers,  and  perhaps  reached  its 
height  in  the  systems  promulgated  by  Basilides 
and  Valentinus,  both  of  whom  laboured  in  Egypt 
(Epiphanius,  Hcer.  xxiv.  1,  xxxi.  7).  See  Basil- 
ides,  Gnosticism,  Pistis  Sophia,  Valentinus. 

We  know  from  the  Christian  writers  and  apolo- 
gists,  chiefly  from    Hippolytus  and   Epiphanius, 
how  wide-spread  Gnosticism  became  in  Egypt,  and 
how  it  threatened   to  become  a  menace  to   the 
Church  in  the  early    part  of    the  3rd    century. 
Perhaps  the  so-called  letter  of  Hadrian  to  Servian 
(in   reality  a  3rd  cent,  document)  may  be  inter- 
preted in  this  light  when  it  speaks  of 
'  people  who  worship  Serapis  being  Christians,  while  those  who 
call  themselves  bishops  of  Christ  are   adherents  of  Serapis. 
.  .  .  No  Christian  presbyter  but  is  an  astrologer,  a  soothsayer, 
a  vile  wretch.     When  the  Patriarch  himself  visits  Egypt,  he  is 
forced  by  some  to  worship  Serapis,  by  others  to  worship  Christ.' 
In  spite  of  the  venom  which  characterizes  this 
attack  on  the  Alexandrians,  it  points  to  the  fact 
that  the  syncretism  rife  at  the  period  had  attacked 
the  Christian  religion  also.     This  is  borne  out  to  a 
considerable  extent  by  archaeological  discoveries 
in    Upper    Egypt.     The  excavations  at  Antinoe 
conducted  by  Gayet  have  revealed  Christian  burials 
of  a  very  peculiar  type.     Some  of  the  rock-cut 
tombs   had    chapels    built    before    the    entrance, 
stuccoed  inside  and  covered  with  frescoes,  most  of 
which  have  unfortunately  perished,  but  what  frag- 
ments have   been   discovered  are  typical  of   the 
earliest  forms  of  Christian  symbolism.     Two  of  the 
bodies  at  least  in   this  cemetery  were  equipped 
with  wine-jars    and  baskets  for  bread,   perhaps 
intended  for  a  mystic  Eucharist  for  the  dead,  while 
another  burial  contained  a  model  in  terra-cotta  of 
several  persons  seated  at  a  table,  the  whole  form- 
ing a   group,  supposed  to  represent  the  Agape. 
Many  peculiar  objects  were  found,   including  a 
kind  of  primitive  rosary,  or  board  for  counting 
prayers,   surmounted   by  a  cross.     It  is  possible 
that  the  old  Egyptian  idea  that  the  welfare  of  the 
soul  depended   upon  the   nourishing  of  the  body 
by   magical  food  still  survived.      The  bodies  of 
Christians  at  this  time  were  always  mummified, 
and  in  some  cases  the  remains  of  martyrs  were 
preserved  in  the  houses,  for  the  gaze  of  the  faithful, 
in  accordance  with  the  pagan  custom  of  the  time 
(Athanasius,   Vita  Antonii  [PG  xxvi.  967]).     The 
chapels  and  provisions  of  food  may  therefore  be 
a  continuation  of  the  old  pagan  custom  whereby 
the  soul  of  the  deceased  was  nourished   by  the 
mystic  food  of  the  Eucharist.    This  is  borne  out  not 
only  by  one  of  the  Acts  of  the  Council  of  Hippo 
(393),  which  forbade  the  burial  of  the  holy  elements 
with  the  dead,   but  also  by  the  fact  that  in  the 
oasis  of   Khargeh  a  number  of  Christian   tombs 
were  provided  with  a  chapel  containing  a  niche  for 
food-offerings  after    the    pagan    manner  (Myres, 
Man,  1901,  No.  91).     On  the  other  hand,  we  may 
perhaps  see  in  these  peculiar  customs  traces  of 
some  Gnostic  rite,  such  as  the  mystic  sacrament 
mentioned  in  Pistis  Sophia,  performed  for  the  re- 
mission  of  sins.     Syncretism  can   go  no  further 
than  the  mummy  of  the  so-called  Christian  priest 
from  Dtir  el-Bahari.     It  is  probably  of  very  early 
date — possibly  the  beginning  of  the  3rd  century. 
On  the  shroud  the  deceased  is  represented  holding 
in  one  hand  a  cup,  in  the  other  corn-ears — accord- 
ing to  Naville  (Deir  el  Bahari,  1S98-1901,  ii.  5), 
emblems  of  the  Eucharist.     On  his  left  shoulder  is 
the  swastika  emblem,  and  below  is  the  barque  of 
Socharis  adored  by  the  gods  Anubis  and  Apuat. 

Although,  during  the  persecution  of  Decius  in 
250,  large  numbers  of  Christians  appear  to  have 
recanted,  the  persecution  of  Diocletian  in  303 
found  the  Church  stronger  and  resistance  much 
more  stubborn.      Many  were  martyred,  and  the 


116 


COPTIC  CHURCH 


Copts  reckoned  their  dates  from  this  stormy  period 
— 'the  era  of  martyrs.'  In  the  succeeding  reign, 
numbers  languished  in  the  dye  factories  of  the 
Thebaid,  and  in  the  porphyry  mines  of  the  desert 
('Mart.  Pal.'  in  TU  xiv.  4) ;  but  with  the  acces- 
sion of  Constantine  to  sole  power,  Christianity  was 
adopted  as  the  State  religion,  and  thus  placed  in 
a  stronger  position  than  ever  before.  But,  al- 
though, within  the  Church,  Gnosticism  was  fast 
waning,  and  the  more  fantastic  sects  had  become 
objects  of  ridicule,  a  new  trouble  broke  out  in  319, 
owing  to  the  preaching  of  Arius,  a  presbyter  of 
the  Church  of  Saint  Baucalis  in  Alexandria,  on 
the  relationship  of  Christ  to  the  Father. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  go  into  the  full  details  concerning  the 
doctrinal  struggle  which  shook  the  Church  to  its  foundations. 
It  is  sufficient  to  saj'  here  that  Arius  implied  that  the  Son  was 
inferior  to  the  Father.  He  argued  that,  as  the  Son  was  be- 
gotten of  the  Father,  there  must  have  been  a  time  when  the 
Son  did  not  exist.  Therefore  the  Son  was  not  co-eternal  with 
the  Father,  and  not  of  the  same  nature,  but  of  like  nature. 
The  Son  was  not  God,  or  eternal,  or  omniscient,  but  a  creature 
(KTt'oTia),  although,  as  such,  beyond  all  mortal  comparison. 
The  opposition  to  this  doctrine  was  headed  by  a  young  deacon 
in  the  household  of  the  patriarch  Alexander,  named  Athanasius. 
The  quarrel  proceeded  with  unprecedented  bitterness  and  in- 
triguing on  both  sides.  The  Emperor  was  appealed  to,  but, 
rather  than  give  a  decision,  he  summoned  a  council  of  bishops  at 
Nictea  to  formulate  a  creed.  Their  decision  led  to  the  formula- 
tion of  the  famous  creed  of  the  orthodox  party  and  to  the 
excommunication  and  banishment  of  Arius  ;  but,  on  his  offering 
a  written  explanation,  the  Emperor  directed  that  he  should  be 
received  back  into  the  Church.  Athanasius,  who  had  mean- 
while (328)  succeeded  Alexander  as  bishop  of  Alexandria,  refused 
to  obey  the  Emperor's  order,  and,  at  a  council  of  bishops  held 
at  Tyre,  he  in  his  turn  was  deposed  and  banished.  On  the 
death  of  Constantine  in  337,  Athanasius  returned  to  Alexandria 
with  the  support  of  Constantine  n.  and  Constans  ;  but,  on  the 
death  of  the  former  in  340,  Constantius  in.,  partner  in  the 
Empire  and  an  Arian,  succeeded  in  deposing  him,  and  had 
Gregory  elected  as  patriarch  by  a  council  of  bishops  held  at 
Antioch.  Athanasius  withdrew  onlj'  when  an  armed  escort 
and  threats  of  violence  on  the  part  of  its  commander,  who  con- 
ducted the  Arian  patriarch  to  the  city,  compelled  him  to  retire. 
In  the  absence  of  Athanasius  his  supporters  kept  up  constant 
rioting,  and  burnt  the  metropolitan  church.  A  temporary 
peace  was  later  patched  up,  and  Athanasius  returned  as  bishop  ; 
but  the  death  of  Constans  enabled  Constantius  again  to  depose 
him — not  without  violence,  for  the  Athanasians  resisted  vigor- 
ously. The  bishop  escaped  into  hiding  with  his  friends,  and 
Qeorge  of  Cappadocia  was  chosen  as  Arian  patriarch.  The 
succession,  however,  of  the  pagan  emperor,  Julian,  led  to 
more  rioting,  and  George  was  murdered.  Athanasius  returned 
again,  in  spite  of  opposition  at  first  on  the  Emperor's  part,  and 
succeeded  in  holding  his  office  through  this  and  the  following 
reigns  of  Jovian  and  Valens  (although  the  latter  was  an  Arian) 
until  bis  death  in  373.    See,  further,  Arianism,  Athanasius. 

But  the  seeds  of  discord  had  already  been  sown 
in  the  Egyptian  Church  before  the  Arian  con- 
troversy broke  out.  During  the  persecution  of 
Diocletian,  Peter,  who  was  then  bishop  of  Alex- 
andria, and  was  in  the  end  martyred,  fled  from 
Alexandria.  During  his  absence,  Meletius,  bishop 
of  the  important  see  of  Lycopolis,  ordained  and 
intruded  priests  into  other  dioceses,  and  assumed 
the  character  of  primate.  He  has  also  been 
charged  by  Athanasius  and  Socrates,  but  without 
good  reason,  with  having  denied  the  faith  under 
persecution.  When  affairs  had  settled  down  some- 
what under  Alexander,  Meletius's  case  was  brought 
before  the  Council  of  Nicsea,  and  that  assembly 
severely  censured  him.  During  the  life  of  Alex- 
ander, Meletius  acquiesced  quietly,  but  on  the 
accession  of  Athanasius  he  flung  himself  into  the 
ranks  of  the  opposing  party,  seemingly  not  so 
much  because  he  sympathized  with  the  Arian 
doctrines  as  out  of  dislike  to  Athanasius,  and,  as 
he  possessed  a  .considerable  following,  the  quarrel 
was  thereby  embittered  and  intensified. 

3.  Eremite  movement. — The  foregoing  tends  to 
show  that,  as  soon  as  Christianity  began  to  get 
the  upper  hand  in  Egypt,  the  Church  itself  was 
rent  with  violent  factions,  which  led  to  the  dis- 
order and  turbulence  which  characterized  the  4th 
and  5th  centuries.  Meanwhile  a  new  factor  had 
appeared  on  the  scene — a  new  movement  which  was 
to  have  world-wide  influence  throughout  the  whole 


of  Christendom.  We  have  seen  how,  even  in  the 
early  days  of  the  Church,  when  Christianity  was 
confined  mainly  to  those  of  Hellenic  birth  or  educa- 
tion, there  was  a  tendency  to  asceticism  or  mysti- 
cism. In  their  extreme  forms  these  two  movements 
led  to  fantastic  Gnostic  systems,  but  the  more 
sober  and  quiet  side  manifested  itself  among  those 
Christians  who  carried  out  their  ascetic  ideals,  not 
by  withdrawing  from  the  world,  but  by  living  in 
the  midst  of  their  own  households,  observing  fasts, 
abstaining  from  marriage,  and  devoting  themselves 
to  prayer  and  the  care  of  the  sick  and  the  poor. 
But,  although  these  ascetic  ideals,  which  affected 
the  Egyptian  Church  to  such  a  remarkable  degree, 
and,  through  it,  in  later  times  the  Church  through- 
out the  world,  seem  to  have  had  their  origin  in 
Egypt,  it  is  curious  to  note  that  the  native  Egyptian 
character  in  the  past  had  exhibited  little  or  no  tend- 
ency either  to  asceticism  or  to  mysticism.  Magic 
in  pagan  Egypt  was,  and  had  always  been,  of  an 
eminently  practical  kind,  and,  so  far  as  we  can 
judge,  never  included  philosophic  mysticism  of  any 
sort ;  indeed,  the  native  mind  was  incapable  of 
any  of  the  higher  subtleties  of  thought.  It  seems, 
therefore,  that  these  two  potent  forces  were  intro- 
duced into  Egypt  by  the  Greeks,  through  the 
medium  of  Platonic  and  Pythagorean  philosophers, 
and  associated  with  the  native  Egyptian  religion 
by  the  Platonizing  of  the  Osiris  and  Isis  cult.  We 
know  that  the  Jewish  community  in  Egypt  was 
subject  to  an  identical  process.  The  fragments  of 
lost  Gospels,  as  well  as  the  works  of  Clement  and 
Origen,  prove  how  these  ideals,  prevalent  in  the 
pagan  and  Jewish  communities  of  Alexandria, 
exercised  their  influence  on  the  early  Christian 
Church.  During  the  3rd  cent.,  however,  Chris- 
tianity began  to  make  many  converts  among  the 
native  worshippers  of  Osiris  and  Isis,  among  those 
of  the  population  who  were  little  influenced  by 
Hellenic  ideas,  had  little  or  no  Greek  blood  in  their 
veins,  and  were  quite  as  incapable  of  understand- 
ing Clement's  or  Origen's  conception  of  Chris- 
tianity as  Plutarch's  theories  about  Osiris  and 
Isis.  Nevertheless,  the  ascetic  side  of  the  new 
faith  seems  to  have  appealed  strongly  to  them, 
although  the  mystic  and  philosophic  ideas  inter- 
woven with  asceticism  were  not  in  the  least 
comprehended.  The  literal  practice  of  asceticism 
became  at  once  a  thing  of  paramount  importance, 
and  its  wide-spread  influence  was  due  in  the  first 
place  to  the  example  of  one  man — Anthony,  the  first 
to  out  himself  off  from  intercourse  with  the  world, 
and  to  perform  those  extraordinary  feats  of  endur- 
ance which  appealed  so  strongly  to  the  Egyptians, 
and  produced  countless  hosts  of  imitators. 

Our  chief  authorities  for  the  history  of  this 
movement  are  The  Life  of  Anthony  (a  work  attri- 
buted to  Athanasius),  Cassian,  and  especially  the 
Lausiac  History.  The  arguments  of  the  school  of 
Weingarten,  that  these  are  monastic  works  of  the 
6th  cent.,  may  be  said  to  have  been  finally  dis- 
posed of  by  Dom  Cuthbert  Butler  in  his  admirable 
edition  of  the  Lausiac  History.  From  these  sources 
we  draw  a  wealth  of  material  concerning  the  ascetic 
movement,  which  is  supplemented  by  the  later 
Coptic  documents.  The  first  man  who  actually 
led  the  ascetic  life,  cut  off  from  his  fellow-men, 
was  one  Paul,  who  was  driven  into  the  desert 
during  the  Decian  persecutions  in  250,  and  there 
may  well  have  been  others  who  were  forced  to 
lead  solitary  lives  owing  to  the  same  circum- 
stances ;  but  it  is  to  Anthony  that  the  world  looks 
as  the  founder  of  eremitic  solitude. 

Born  probably  about  the  year  250,  of  fellah  parents,  Anthony 
was  converted  to  Christianity  as  a  boy  by  hearing  the  Gospels 
read  in  a  church.  (As  he  is  said  to  have  known  no  Greek,  this 
presupposes  the  existence  of  a  Coptic  version  at  this  early 
date.)  For  fifteen  years  he  lived  with  ascetics,  who  at  that 
time  practised  the  ascetic  life  in  huts  built  outside  the  town ; 


COPTIC  CHURCH 


T17 


but,  deeming  thi9  insufficient,  he  withdrew  to  the  desert,  and 
endured  a  life  of  strict  solitude  in  a  cave  for  upwards  of  twenty 
years.  During  this  period  large  numbers  were  fired  with  his 
enthusiasm,  and  the  burning  deserts  of  Lower  Egypt,  especially 
those  of  Scete  and  Nitria,  swarmed  with  solitaries  who  were 
following  his  example.  About  the  year  305  he  was  induced  to 
quit  his  cave  and  organize  these  bands  of  monks,  and,  later,  he 
was  even  persuaded  by  Athanasius  to  come  to  Alexandria  to 
preach  against  Arianism.  He  died  at  an  advanced  age,  and 
left  special  directions  that  his  body  should  not  be  preserved 
by  mummification,  as  he  had  expressed  his  detestation  of 
the  Christians  continuing  this  pagan  custom.  The  ideals  of 
monachism  that  he  left  as  a  heritage  are  remarkable  for  the 
fact  that  they  possess  little  system.  There  was  no  particular 
Rule  of  Life  in  the  Antonian  communities,  although  the  elder 
and  more  leading  ascetics  were  looked  to  for  advice,  and  sought 
as  arbiters  in  disputes.  The  monks  would  visit  one  another 
frequently,  and  discourse  on  the  Scriptures  and  the  life  of  the 
Spirit,  but  there  were  also  those  who  dwelt  in  the  further 
desert  of  'cells,'  who  were  hermits  indeed,  living  out  of  sight 
and  hearing  of  their  fellow-men  and  one  another,  enduring  the 
most  extraordinary  physical  deprivations,  and  warding  off  abso- 
lute intellectual  stagnation  by  repeating  long  passages  from 
the  Psalms  and  other  Scriptures  learnt  by  heart.  Although  the 
monks  assembled  on  Saturdays  and  Sundays  in  the  great  church, 
the  other  days  of  the  week  were  spent  mostly  in  solitude. 
The  whole  syBtem  was  individualistic,  each  working  for  his 
personal  advance  in  virtue,  contending  against  his  fellows  in 
severities  and  mortification  of  the  flesh,  and  striving,  as  Don; 
Butler  says,  '  to  make  a  record '  in  austerities,  and  to  outdo 
the  others  in  the  length  of  his  fasts,  and  his  general  observance 
of  the  ascetic  life. 

About  the  same  time  that  Anthony  left  his  desert  cavern  to 
organize  his  followers,  Pachomius,  another  Egyptian,  founded 
a  more  cohesive  system  of  monachism  in  the  south,  at  Tabennisi. 
Pachomius  also  was  born  of  pagan  parents,  and,  according  to 
the  Coptic  '  Life,'  was  for  some  time  a  member  of  one  of  the 
communities  of  Serapis  at  Shenesit  (Chenoboscium).  These 
communities,  although  hardly  ascetic  in  the  stricter  sense  of 
the  word,  were  priestly  organizations  bound  by  definite  rules ; 
and  it  is  quite  possible  that  Pachomius  may  have  utilized  some 
points  in  their  system  when,  after  he  had  been  converted  to 
Christianity,  he  founded  his  coenobitic  monastery  of  monks. 
Briefly,  the  Pachomian  organization  was  as  followB.  In  place 
of  the  friendly  and  almost  family  relation  of  the  monks  to 
one  another  in  the  Antonian  communities,  he  substituted  a 
much  more  definite  system.  The  monastery  was  divided  into 
houses  presided  over  by  a  superior  and  steward,  in  each  of 
which  the  monks  carried  on  a  particular  trade— gardening, 
husbandry,  carpentry,  iron-work,  dyeing,  tanning,  and  so  forth; 
and  these  trades  were  carried  on,  not  as  penances,  but  as  a 
useful  occupation  in  life.  It  would  appear  that  the  austerities 
of  the  northern  monks  were  not  attempted,  although  any  one 
monk  could  practise  especial  severities  if  he  pleased.  Food 
was  to  be  eaten  in  sufficient  quantities  for  a  man's  daily  need, 
and  meals  were  to  be  taken  in  common,  although  the  cowl  was 
to  be  drawn  over  the  head  so  that  each  should  be  Invisible  to 
his  fellow  while  eating.  They  learnt  the  Scriptures  by  heart, 
and  assembled  in  the  great  church  only  on  the  more  solemn 
festivals.  So  rapid  was  the  extension  of  Pachomius's  system, 
that  at  his  death  (c.  346)  it  included  eight  monasteries  and  many 
hundreds  of  monks,  while  his  sister  had  founded  a  similar 
institution  for  women. 

It  is  difficult  to  give  a  just  estimate  of  this 
movement,  which  is  the  most  outstanding,  not 
only  in  Egypt,  but  in  the  entire  Church  of  the 
time.  That  the  monks  offered  in  many  cases  ex- 
amples of  great  patience,  self-denial,  and  single- 
ness of  heart  and  spirit  is  not  to  be  denied.  On 
the  other  hand,  few  of  his  followers  seem  to  have 
been  possessed  with  the  kindliness  and  shrewdness 
that  are  generally  attributed  to  Anthony.  Many 
of  them  outdid  one  another  in  the  severity  of  their 
ascetic  self -discipline,  but  it  would  appear  in  many 
cases  that  the  general  result  was  a  stunting  of  the 
intellect  and  a  narrowing  of  the  outlook  on  life. 
Amelineau,  whose  acquaintance  with  the  docu- 
ments of  this  period  is  very  extensive,  has  said 
that  it  has  been  customary  to  hold  up  the  monks 
of  the  pre-Chalcedon  days  as  a  pattern  of  virtue, 
and  the  Jacobite  as  a  picture  of  vice,  whereas,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  there  is  little  to  distinguish 
between  the  two ;  that  the  Egyptian  monk,  al- 
though given  to  asceticism,  was  at  times  a  very 
ordinary  mortal,  'mangeant  net,  buvant  sec,'  and 
prone  to  irregularities  of  life.  Certainly  even  the 
most  admiring  chroniclers  relate  with  perfect  frank- 
ness sad  lapses  from  virtue  on  the  part  of  individual 
ascetics.  This,  however,  does  not  imply  that  all 
were  bad,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  at  first  the 
ascetics  were,  on  the  whole,  animated  by  a  high 
ideal.     They  threw  themselves  passionately  on  the 


side  of  Athanasius  during  the  Arian  controversy, 
and  sheltered  him  in  their  desert  communities 
while  he  was  in  exile.  It  is  highly  improbable 
that  they  understood  the  complicated  doctrinal 
point  involved ;  it  was  sufficient  for  them  that 
Arius  seemed  to  desire  to  dethrone  the  Son  from 
His  equality  with  the  Father.  But,  as  time  went 
on,  they  became  fiercer,  more  bigoted,  and  a  prey 
to  the  inherent  superstitions  of  their  race.  Childish 
miracles  and  belief  in  innumerable  devils  took  the 
place  of  the  old  magic  and  demonology  which  had 
fascinated  the  Egyptians  in  pagan  times,  while  in 
the  following  century  the  fact  that  hordes  of  fierce 
monks  could  be  summoned  to  Alexandria  by  the 
patriarch  led  to  the  increase  of  religious  turbulence 
and  sectarian  strife. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  adoption  of  Chris- 
tianity as  the  State  religion  and  the  rise  of  monas- 
ticism  were  the  immediate  forerunners  of  a  period 
of  steady  deterioration  throughout  the  Egyptian 
Church.  The  death-knell  of  paganism  was  already 
rung,  and  with  it  that  of  the  culture  and  freedom 
of  philosophic  thought  that  had  made  Alexandria 
the  intellectual  centre  of  the  Hellenistic  world.  In 
379  the  Emperor  Theodosius  attempted  to  force  the 
Christian  faith  on  the  entire  population  of  the 
Roman  Empire,  and  this  was  followed  in  385  by 
the  sack  of  the  temple  of  Serapis  and  the  conver- 
sion of  other  pagan  temples  into  churches.  Mean- 
while the  character  of  the  illiterate  monks  began 
to  assert  itself,  and  their  child-like  faith  in  angels 
and  demons  led  to  the  communities  of  Scete  being 
accused  by  the  patriarch  Theophilus  of  Origenism, 
while  the  unscrupulousness  of  the  latter's  methods, 
as  revealed  in  the  incident  of  the  Tall  Brothers, 
led  to  recriminations  and  unedifying  quarrels.  In 
fact,  the  power  of  the  patriarch  had  risen  to  such 
a  pitch  that  he  did  not  hesitate  to  consider  that 
those  who  were  his  theological  opponents  were 
rebels  against  the  Emperor,  and,  acting  in  ac- 
cordance with  this  idea,  he  took  some  troops  and 
destroyed  several  of  the  Nitrian  monasteries. 
During  the  reign  of  his  successor,  Cyril,  turbu- 
lence and  disorder  increased  rather  than  dimin- 
ished. The  Christians  organized  a  wholesale 
plundering  of  the  Jews  in  Alexandria,  whose 
quarters  were  sacked  by  hordes  of  monks  and 
fanatics,  and  the  richest  element  of  the  community 
was  driven  into  exile.  This  was  followed  by  the 
murder  of  Hypatia,  a  young  and  beautiful  woman, 
who  strove  to  keep  alight  the  lamp  of  pagan  cul- 
ture by  lectures  on  Neo-Platonic  philosophy.  The 
bigotry  and  turbulence  of  the  Christian  mob  at 
this  period  seem  to  have  known  no  bounds.  But, 
as  the  Patriarchs  grew  more,  powerful,  and  the 
Christians  more  fanatical,  the  relations  between  the 
Egyptian  Church  and  Constantinople  became  more 
and  more  strained,  until  open  rupture  took  place 
on  a  question  of  doctrine,  which  was  decided  at  a 
Council  held  at  Chalcedon  in  451. 

4.  Monophysitism. — The  controversy  which  had 
been  the  cause  of  the  Council  of  Nica?a  was  con- 
cerned with  the  relationship  of  the  Son  to  the 
Father.  The  fresh  divisions  that  were  taking 
place  in  the  Church  were  now  due  to  disputes  on 
the  nature  of  the  Son — whether  that  nature  was 
human  or  Divine,  or  both.  Cyril,  who  had  already 
been  on  bad  terms  with  the  See  of  Constantinople 
when  it  was  occupied  by  John  Chrysostom,  had 
later  taken  a  violent  part  in  opposing  the  doctrines 
of  Nestorius,  which  implied  that  the  Divine  nature 
was  not  incarnate  in  Christ,  but  subsidiary  to  the 
human  nature.  The  chief  opponent  of  the  doc- 
trine of  Nestorius  was  a  young  priest  named 
Eutyches,  who,  in  his  zeal  to  assert  the  Divine 
nature  of  Christ,  went  further  than  the  Alex- 
andrian school  and  Cyril  were  prepared  to  go,  by 
asserting  that,  after  the  Incarnation,   Christ  had 


118 


COPTIC  CHURCH 


only  one  nature — the  Divine.  Meanwhile,  Cyril 
had  died  in  444,  and  Dioscuros,  his  successor, 
warmly  supported  the  cause  of  Eutyches,  backed 
by  the  majority  of  the  Egyptian  monks.  Eutyches 
was  finally  declared  excommunicate  and  banished, 
at  the  Council  of  Chalcedon,  but  he  counted  among 
his  adherents  the  majority  of  the  Egyptian  Chris- 
tians. Added  to  the  ever-increasing  friction  be- 
tween Constantinople  and  the  Alexandrian  See, 
due  to  the  turbulence  and  fierce  independence  of 
the  Christians  of  Egypt,  was  the  peculiar  bent  of 
the  Egyptian  mind,  unable  to  appreciate  the 
subtleties  of  argument  indulged  in  by  the  Greeks 
and  Levantines.  The  attempts  of  the  Arians  to 
dethrone  Christ  from  His  equality  with  the  Father 
they  could  understand,  but  two  natures  which 
were  yet  one  nature — this  was  beyond  their  com- 
prehension. Henceforward  the  cry  was  '  One 
Nature,'  and  it  has  remained  so  to  this  day. 
Egypt  at  this  time  might  be  described  almost  as 
one  vast  monastery,  and  the  fierce  ascetics  of  the 
desert  stoutly  maintained  the  doctrine  of  the  single 
nature  of  Christ.  The  power  of  the  monastic  in- 
stitutions was  now  almost  paramount,  and  the 
authority  exercised  by  such  monks  a,9  Shnoute 
and  Bgoul  was  enormous.  The  tendency  was  to 
unite  the  systems  of  Pachomius  and  Anthony  by 
combining  the  ccenobitic  or  true  monastic  organi- 
zation with  the  strict  asceticism  of  the  Antonian 
eremites,  and  the  network  of  monasteries  was  fast 
extending  all  over  the  country. 

5.  During  the  6th  century. — The  century  follow- 
ing the  separation  of  the  greater  part  of  the 
Egyptian  Church  from  the  orthodox  at  the  Council 
of  Chalcedon  is  remarkable  in  Alexandria  only  for 
the  unedifying  disputes  between  the  Monophysite 
patriarchs  and  the  orthodox,  or  Melkites,  as  they 
were  called  because  of  their  adherence  to  the 
Imperial  influence  of  Constantinople,  and,  in  the 
upper  country,  to  the  growing  power  of  the  mon- 
astic system.  The  land  was  held  largely  by  the 
monasteries,  whose  ruins  now  are  not  the  least 
remarkable  feature  all  over  Egypt.  The  cultiva- 
tion was  chiefly  in  the  hands  of  the  monks.  It  is 
stated  in  the  Life  of  Shnoute  that  his  monastery 
fed  the  prisoners  captured  from  a  raid  of  the 
Blemmyes  for  three  months  at  a  cost  of  265,000 
drachmae,  with  85,000  artabai  of  wheat  and  200 
artabai  of  olives.  The  numerous  inscribed  ostraka, 
and  the  commencement  of  a  vast  Coptic  literature, 
consisting  chiefly  of  Lives  and  Sayings  of  holy 
men  and  monks,  show  the  commercial  and  literary 
activity  of  the  monks.  They  were  strong  enough 
to  prevent  Imperial  pressure  for  the  over-exaction 
of  taxes,  and  in  this  way  maintained  to  a  certain 
extent  the  dwindling  prosperity  of  the  country, 
although  the  minority  who  were  not  connected 
with  the  monastic  institutions  were  crushed  by 
cruel  burdens.  But  religious  life  was  gradually 
sinking  to  a  low  ebb,  and  was  distinguished  by 
little  spirituality.  While  the  Alexandrians  were 
occupied  with  the  opposing  factions  of  Melkites 
and  Monophysites,  the  monks  of  Upper  Egypt 
were  engrossed  in  petty  squabbles  between  monas- 
tery and  monastery,  or  the  enumeration  of  absurd 
miracles  wrought  by  the  foremost  ascetics.  Re- 
ligious life,  like  political,  was  fast  losing  all  dignity 
and  depth. 

6.  The  Persian  and  the  Arab  domination.— In 
the  year  616  the  break-up  of  the  Imperial  power  in 
Egypt  began  with  the  occupation  of  the  country 
by  the  Persians  on  behalf  of  the  Sasanian  king 
Chosroes.  For  ten  years  they  held  sway  in  Egypt. 
Whether  the  Copts  welcomed  their  new  masters  is 
a  matter  of  some  doubt.  That  they  hated  the 
Byzantine  domination  is  certain.  Ever  since  Jus- 
tinian had  given  the  Melkite  Patriarch  the  military 
authority  of  a  prefect,  in  the  futile  hope  of  coercing 


the  Monophysites  into  orthodoxy,  the  Copts  had 
been  harried  and  oppressed  by  the  Imperial  power. 
The  whole  nation  now  looked  to  their  own  elected 
Patriarch,  not  so  much  as  the  champion  of  the 
Monophysite  doctrine,  but  as  the  leader  of  the 
nationalists  against  the  minions  of  Imperial 
bigotry  and  corruption.  The  wonderful  victories 
of  Heraclius,  who  drove  out  the  Persians  and 
re-conquered  Jerusalem  and  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 
were  a  cause  of  rejoicing  to  orthodox  and  Mono- 
physite alike  throughout  the  Eastern  Empire,  and 
it  is  possible  that  a  wiser  statesman  than  the 
Emperor  might,  amid  the  universal  rejoicings  of 
Christendom,  have  secured  some  kind  of  recon- 
ciliation. But  Heraclius  would  extend  no  tolerance 
to  heretics,  with  the  result  that  a  few  years  later, 
when  a  sterner  and  more  implacable  enemy  was  at 
the  gate,  the  Copts  of  Egypt  were  ready  to  welcome 
him.  In  642,  Egypt  was  ceded  to  Amr  ibn  al-'Asi, 
who  had  conquered  it  in  the  name  of  Islam. 

The  Arab  tradition  is  that  the  conquest  was  aided  by  the 
treachery  of  one  called  Mukaukis  (probably  the  Byzantine 
honorific  title  /xeyavxT}^  who  is  generally  supposed  to  have  been 
the  Coptic  Patriarch.  It  must  be  mentioned,  however,  that  it 
has  been  ably  argued  by  A.  J.  Butler  in  The  Arab  Conquest  of 
Egypt  (1902),  that  the  Copts  were  intensely  hostile  to  the  Arabs, 
and  that  the  treacherous  '  Mukaukis '  was  none  other  than 
Cyrus,  the  Melkite  Patriarch.  It  is'  probable  that  the  Copts, 
after  years  of  oppression  on  the  part  of  the  orthodox  and  Im- 
perial party,  welcomed  their  new  masters  as  a  change  which,  as 
they  thought,  could  not  in  any  case  be  for  the  worse. 

From  the  doctrinal  and  ethical  point  of  view, 
the  Coptic  Church  has  little  history  of  interest 
during  its  long  subjection  to  the  rule  of  Islam. 
The  Arab  invaders  imposed  a  poll-tax  on  all 
infidels,  and  it  is  probable  that  from  the  first 
many  were  converted  to  the  faith  of  Muhammad 
in  order  to  avoid  payment.  For  the  first  three  cen- 
turies or  more,  it  is  true,  considerable  activity  i? 
evinced  by  Coptic  literature,  which  is  representor 
during  this  period  by  countless  MSS,  chiefly  Ci 
a  homiletic  character,  or  containing  Lives  of  holy 
men,  although  such  important  historical  works  as 
the  Chronicles  of  John  of  Nikiou  must  not  be 
overlooked.  Such  art  as  was  still  possessed  by  the 
Christian  workman  was  either  suppressed  or  forced 
into  the  service  of  his  masters.  The  Copts,  as 
they  gradually  became  a  smaller  and  smaller 
section  of  the  population,  were  ostracized  by  the 
Muhammadans  and  cut  off  from  all  intellectual 
stimulus  and  growth.  They  do  not  seem  to  have 
shared  in  any  way  in  the  artistic  and  intellectual 
triumphs  characteristic  of  certain  periods  among 
the  Muslims.  It  is  true  that  under  some  rulers 
individual  Christians  rose  to  high  office,  but  their 
position  was  usually  even  more  precarious  than 
that  of  their  Muhammadan  colleagues.  Frequently 
they  were  subjected  to  severe  persecution,  and  were 
forced  to  wear  dark  cloaks ;  and  under  Hakim, 
since  Muslim  and  Christian  were  much  alike  when 
naked  in  the  public  baths,  they  were  compelled  to 
have  a  cross  branded  on  their  bodies  in  order  that 
none  of  the  faithful  might  wittingly  be  polluted 
by  contact  with  the  infidel.  Such  a  system  was 
bound  in  time  to  crush  the  Christians  almost  out 
of  existence.  The  monasteries  dwindled,  and 
finally,  in  the  17th  cent.,  the  Coptic  language 
itself  ceased  to  be  spoken,  although  certain  por- 
tions of  the  Scriptures  are  still  read  in  the  churches 
to  this  day  in  the  ancient  language.  The  Copts 
seem  to  have  been  little  influenced  by  the  vic- 
tories of  the  Crusaders,  and,  indeed,  as  Crusaders 
and  Copts  looked  on  each  other  as  heretics,  little 
co-operation  would  have  been  possible.  It  is  inter- 
esting to  note  that  the  surrender  of  Constantinople 
to  the  Turks  seems  to  have  reacted  badly  on  them 
even  in  their  then  wretched  state  of  ignorance  ; 
for  in  the  correspondence,  so  long  after  that  event 
as  1617,  addressed  by  Cyril,  then  Coptic  Patriarch, 
to  George  Abbot,  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  we 


CORNERS 


119 


read  :  '  On  account  of  our  sins  we  are  become  the 
most  contemptible  of  all  nations  ;  and  with  the 
overthrow  of  the  Empire  have  lost  the  liberal  arts ' 
(Neale,  Hist,  of  the  Eastern  Church,  ii.  [1850]  385). 
From  the  16th  cent,  onwards  the  Roman  Church 
has  made  intermittent  efforts  to  convert  the  Copts 
to  Roman  Catholicism,  but  with  little  success. 
They  have  clung  to  their  own  Monophysite  doc- 
trine, and  to  their  ritual  of  St.  Mark,  with  the  same 
doggedness  with  which  they  have  resisted  Islam. 

7.  The  Coptic  Church  of  to-day. — After  cen- 
turies of  oppression  and  ostracism,  the  Copts  to-day 
are  naturally  a  people  apart.  The  males  having 
intermarried  little  with  the  Arabs,  they  are  sup- 
posed to  represent  more  faithfully  the  old  Egyptian 
type  ;  but  this  is  doubtful.  Several  of  their  fine 
churches,  some  of  them  dating  from  Byzantine 
times,  are  still  in  use,  although  stripped  for  the 
most  part  of  their  woodwork  and  pictures.  The 
liturgy  and  ritual  of  St.  Mark  are  in  use.  The 
Eucharist  is  in  one  kind,  only  the  priests  taking 
the  wine  ;  the  bread  is  given  to  the  communicants 
in  wooden  spoons,  and  confession  is  obligatory 
before  receiving  the  Eucharist.  Women  are  not 
allowed  into  the  body  of  the  church,  but  confined 
to  the  narthex.  There  are  five  great  fasts  :  (1)  the 
Fast  of  Nineveh,  for  three  days  and  three  nights 
before  Lent;  (2)  the  Great  Fast  (Lent),  occupying 
55  days  ;  (3)  the  Fast  of  the  Nativity,  during  the 
28  days  before  Christmas  ;  (4)  the  Fast  of  the 
Apostles,  following  the  Festival  of  the  Ascension  ; 
(5)  the  Fast  of  the  Virgin,  for  15  days  prior  to  the 
Feast  of  the  Assumption.  The  Festivals  are  those 
of  the  Nativity,  el  Ghitds,  or  Baptism  of  Jesus,  the 
Annunciation,  Palm  Sunday,  Easter  (the  Great 
Festival),  Ascension,  and  Whitsunday.  Baptism 
is  universal,  and,  though  attempts  have  been  made 
by  the  Patriarchs  in  the  past  to  enforce  its  early 
application,  boys,  as  a  rule,  are  not  baptized  till 
they  are  40,  and  girls  till  they  are  80,  days  old. 
Circumcision  is  general.  The  hierarchy  to-day 
consists  of  the  Patriarch,  12  bishops,  and  priests 
and  deacons.  The  Patriarch  is  always  elected  from 
among  the  monks  of  the  Monastery  of  St.  Anthony. 
In  recent  years  the  Copts  have  acquired  consider- 
able wealth,  and  in  some  districts  have  become 
important  members  of  the  community.  Their 
willingness  to  be  educated  is  shown  by  the  fact 
that,  though  they  are  only  6  per  cent  of  the 
population  of  Egypt,  17  per  cent  of  the  children 
at  school  are  Copts.  This  education  is  enhanced 
by  the  schools  of  the  foreign  missionaries,  which 
supply  teaching  of  a  sort  that  enables  the  Copts  to 
become  clerks  and  book-keepers — occupations  to 
which  their  talents  are  admirably  adapted ;  but 
attempts  to  turn  them  into  Protestants  or  Roman 
Catholics  are  of  doubtful  wisdom.  The  monastic 
system  is  still  in  force,  and  some  of  the  ancient 
monasteries  are  inhabited  by  a  few  monks ;  but 
the  monks  themselves  are  narrow  and  ignorant, 
while  in  a  few  cases  they  have  not  a  very  good 
reputation  for  an  orderly  life.  With  regard  to 
marriage,  and  more  especially  death,  the  Copts 
have  adopted  many  of  the  customs  of  their  Muslim 
neighbours. 

This  article  cannot  be  closed  without  some  mention  of  the 
Copts  as  missionaries.  During  the  6th  and  7th  centuries  the 
whole  of  Nubia  was  Christianized,  and  for  many  years  the  Arabs 
were  opposed  by  the  Christian  kingdoms  which  had  their  centres 
at  Dongola,  Aiwa,  and  Soba.  But  the  missionary  efforts  of  the 
Copts  did  not  stop  here,  for  Christianity  was  afterwards  intro- 
duced into  Abyssinia.  In  connexion  with  this,  mention  may 
be  made  of  the  recently  found  gravestone  of  a  Coptic  bishop 
of  the  island  of  Sai,  beyond  the  second  cataract,  probably  dating 
from  the  9th  cent.  ;  the  ruins  of  churches  between  Kasr  Ibrahim 
and  Wadi  Haifa,  the  subject  of  a  recent  monograph  by  Mileham 
(Churches  inLower  Nubia,  Univ.  of  Pennsylvania,  1910);  and  also 
the  newly  discovered  Nubian  version  of  the  Life  of  St.Menas,  pub- 
lished (1909)  by  Budge  for  the  Trustees  of  the  British  Museum. 
The  Christian  communities  of  Nubia,  which  at  one  time  ex- 
tended from  Assuan  to  the  Blue  Nile,  gradually  crumbled  away, 
from  pressure  exerted    either  by  the  neighbouring  heathen 


tribes,  or  by  the  Muslims,  until  they  were  finally  exterminated 
by  the  powerful  Fung  dynasty  of  negro  kings  at  the  end  of  the 
15th  century.  Abyssinia,  however,  remained  Christian  and 
Monophysite,  and  its  Metropolitan  is  still  a  Coptic  bishop  ap- 
pointed by  the  Patriarch  of  Alexandria. 

Literature. — I.  General. — The  Ecclesiastical  Histories  ot 
Eusebius,  Socrates,  and  Sozomen,  and  the  Chronicle  of  John 
of  Nikiou  ;  J.  M.  Neale,  Hist.  0/  Holy  East.  Ch.  i.,  London, 
1847;  A.  Harnack,i£rpa?mo?i  of  Christianity?,  Eng.  tr.,  London, 
1908  ;  C.  Bigg,  Christian  Platonists  of  Alexandria,  Oxford, 
18S6  ;  A.  J.  Butler,  The  Ancient  Coptic  Churches  of  Egypt, 
Oxford,  1884,  and  The  Arab  Conquest  of  Egypt,  London,  1902 ; 
R.  Tuki,  Rituale  Copticum  Arabicum,  Rome,  1761. 

II.  Gnostic  documents  from  EarPT.—Pistis  Sophia,  ed. 
M.  G.  Schwartze,  Berlin,  1851 ;  ib.,  ed.  Amelineau,  Paris,  1895  ; 
C.  Schmidt,  Gnostiscke  Schriften  in  koptischer  Sprache  aus 
dem  Codex  Brucianus,  Leipzig,  1892,  and  Koptisch-Gnostische 
Schriften,  do.  1905. 

III.  Papyrologt  and  archaeology. — Wessely,  Les  plus 
anciens  monuments  du  Christianisme,  Paris,  190b' ;  Grenfell 
and  Hunt,  Adyta  'lijaov,  Lond.  1897,  New  Sayings  of  Jesus,  do. 
1904,  and  Frag,  of  an  uncanonical  Gospel  from  Oxyrhynchus,  do. 
1908  ;  A.  Deissmann,  The  Ep.  of  Psenosiris,  do.  1907  ;  A. 
Gayet,  AMG  xxx.,  Paris,  1902;  R.  Forrer,  Die  frUhchristl. 
Alterthiimer  con  Achmim-Panopolis,  Strassburg,  1803;  J.  Strzy- 
gowski,  'Koptische  Kunst,'  vol. xii.  of  Catalogue  gin.  dumuste 
du  Cairo,  Vienna,  1904. 

IV.  Monasticism  AND  LATER  HISTORY.— C.  Butler,  "The 
Lausiac  History  of  Palladius,'  TS  vi.  [1898] ;  Athanasius,  Vita 
Antonii  [PG  xxvi.] ;  Zockler,  Askese  und  Mmxchtum,  Frank- 
fort, 1907;  E.  Preuschen,  Monchtumund Serapiskult1*,  Darm- 
stadt, 1903 ;  E.  Amelineau,  '  L'Hist.  de  Saint  Pakh6me  et  de 
ses  communautes,'  AMG  xvii.,  CEuvres  de  Schenoudi,  Paris, 
1907  (see  also  ed.  by  Leipoldt,  1906),  and  Vie  de  Schenoudi, 
Paris,  1889;  J.  Leipoldt,  '  Schenute  von  Atripe,'  TV  x.  [1882]; 
S.  Lane-Poole,  A  History  of  Egypt,  London,  1901,  vi.  (during 
the  Middle  Ages).  P.  I).  SCOTT-MONCRIEFF. 

CORN,  CORN-SPIRIT.— See  Harvest. 

CORNERS. — Among  the  Semitic  peoples, 
as  among  others  also,  an  especial  sacredness 
or  significance  was  supposed  to  pertain  to  the 
corners  of  structures,  fields,  and  other  objects. 
The  evidence  for  this  conception  can  be  most 
widely  traced  among  the  Semitic  peoples  in  con- 
nexion with  buildings. 

I.  Bab. -Assyrian. — Among  the  Babylonians  and 
Assyrians  it  took  the  form  of  making  a  deposit  of 
inscriptions  and  images  under  the  corner  or  corners 
of  a  temple,  palace,  or  tower.  The  inscriptions 
were,  in  the  Assyrian  and  Neo-Babylonian  periods, 
usually  in  the  form  of  hexagonal,  octagonal,  or 
decagonal  cylinders,  or  cylinders  in  the  form  of 
barrels.  Such  deposits,  placed  under  the  corners 
or  built  into  them,  were  found  by  Taylor  at 
Mugheir,  Loftus  at  Senkereh,  Rawlinson  at  Birs 
Nimroud,  Botta  and  Oppert  at  Khorsabad,1  and 
Rassam  at  Kouyunjik.  The  great  cylinder  ot 
Ashurbanipal  was  found  at  the  corner  of  a  room, 
not  at  the  corner  of  a  building.  Many  of  the 
chronicles  of  the  Bab.  and  Assyr.  kings  were  pre- 
pared and  deposited  in  little  receptacles  of  masonry 
at  the  corners  of  walls.  At  Tellon,  de  Sarzec  found 
similar  receptacles  which  contained  bronze  statu- 
ettes of  human  figures,2  both  male  and  female, 
and  of  animals.3  The  making  of  these  deposits 
was  probably,  as  in  Egypt,  accompanied  by  sacri- 
fice. Thus  Sargon  of  Assyria  (722-705  B.C.)  says 
(Cylinder  Inscription,  1.  60) :  '  To  the  brick-god, 
the  lord  of  briclc  foundations,  and  to  the  chief 
architect,  Bel,  I  offered  a  sacrificial  lamb,  I  poured 
a  libation,  I  raised  the  lifting  up  ot  hands.'  * 

In  emphasizing  the  importance  of  this  custom,  Perrot  and 
Chipiez  are  led  into  one  slight  error.  They  state  that  king 
Nabu-na'id  (555-538  B.C.)  says  that  he  sought  for  the  corner- 
stones of  Hammurabi  and  of  one  of  the  Kassite  kings,  digging 
until  he  found  them.  The  impression  is  that  he  identified  the 
corner-stones  of  the  respective  kings  by  reading  the  inscrip- 
tions deposited  in  connexion  with  them — an  idea  which  is 
gained  from  a  translation  of  an  inscription  of  Nabu-na'id  made 
by  Oppert  when  the  science  of  Assyriology  was  young.   We  now 

1  See  Perrot-Chipiez,  Hist,  de  I'art  dans  I'ant.  ii.  328-333  ; 
and  George  Smith,  Assyr.  Discoveries,  London,  18S3,  p.  59. 

2  See  TSBA  vii.  67,  and  Plan  A. 

s  See  Perrot-Chipiez,  op.  cit.  329 ;  E.  de  Sarzec,  Dicouvertes 
en  Chaldie,  Paris,  1884,  p.  53  ff. 
4  See  Lyon,  Keilschrifttexte  Sargons,  Leipzig,  1883,  p.  37. 


120 


CORNERS 


know  that  a  temenu  was  not  a  corner-stone,  but  a  paved  court 
or  terrace.  Since  such  pavements  were  usually  made  of  bricks, 
each  one  of  which  was  stamped  with  the  name  of  the  builder, 
they  were  easily  identified. 

2.  Egyptian. — In  Egypt,  foundation  deposits 
have  been  found  at  several  places.  One  made  by 
Thothmes  IV.  of  the  XVIIIth  dynasty  is  reported 
from  Memphis  ; '  another  set  was  found  at  each 
of  the  corners  of  a  temple  at  Nebesheh  built  by 
Aahmes  II.  of  the  XXVIth  dynasty ; 2  another, 
under  a  XXVIth  dynasty  building  at  Defenneh 
founded  by  Psametik  I.  ; s  a  complete  set  belong- 
ing to  a  building  of  Hophrah,  at  Naukratis  ; 4  and 
at  three  corners  of  a  temple  of  the  Ptolemaic 
period,  at  Gemaiyemi.6  At  Thebes,  foundation 
deposits  showed  that  a  temple  built  by  Queen 
Tausert  of  the  XlXth  dynasty  once  stood  on  a 
spot  south  of  the  Ramesseum,  although  the  temple 
itself  had  entirely  disappeared.6  At  Abydos, 
foundation  deposits,  or  the  receptacles  for  them, 
were  found  from  Thothmes  III.  and  Amenophis 
III.  of  the  XVIIIth  dynasty,7  Sesostris  III.  of  the 
Xllth  dynasty,8  and  Pepi  of  the  Vlth  dynasty.9 
At  Koptos,  a  box  (though  robbed  of  its  contents) 
was  found  under  a  threshold  ; 10  at  Kahun,  a  re- 
ceptacle (still  full)  under  the  middle  of  a  building 
of  Sesostris  II.  of  the  Xllth  dynasty  ; n  and,  at 
Illahun,  deposits  at  the  corners  of  a  temple  also 
by  the  last-mentioned  monarch.12  At  Gizeh  no 
such  deposits  were  found  under  the  temples  be- 
longing to  the  IVth  dynasty.13  These  deposits 
in  Egypt  consisted  of  plaques  of  copper  or  stone 
on  which  the  name  of  the  builder  was  inscribed, 
together  with  models  of  the  tools  and  materials 
which  were  used  in  the  construction.  At  De- 
fenneh, however,  the  bones  of  birds  and  ani- 
mals offered  in  sacrifice  were  also  found,  together 
with  the  ashes  of  sacrifices  which  had  been  con- 
sumed. These  showed  that  the  sacrifice  was  the 
important  feature  connected  with  the  deposits, 
and  that  the  other  objects  were  incidental  to  it. 
A  similar  deposit  has  recently  been  found  under 
the  corner  of  the  castle  of  a  Nubian  chieftain  of 
the  time  of  the  XVIIIth  dynasty  in  Egyptianized 
Nubia.  This  differed,  however,  from  the  Egyptian 
deposits  in  that  it  consisted  of  ten  mud-seahngs. 
These  represent  a  conqueror  wearing  the  Nubian 
ostrich  feather,  who  holds  a  crouching  captive  by 
a  cord.  On  a  level  with  the  chief's  shoulder  is  the 
figure  of  an  animal  like  a  dog.14 

3.  Canaanite. — The  evidence  for  the  sacred- 
ness of  corners  and  for  foundation  sacrifices  in 
ancient  Palestine  is  of  a  more  grim  nature.  At 
Gezer  the  skeleton  of  a  woman  was  found  built 
into  the  wall  of  a  house  at  the  corner.16  More 
numerous,  however,  were  the  skeletons  of  children 
found  under  the  corners,  children  having  been  used 
for  such  sacrifices  oftener  than  adults.16  The  sacri- 
fices at  Gezer,  like  the  Egyptian  deposits,  were 
not  always  placed  at  the  corners.  The  skeleton 
of  a  man,  and  sometimes  those  of  children,  were 
found  buried  under  the  middle  of  a  house  or  a 
room.17  With  these  sacrifices,  vessels  to  contain 
food  for  the  victims  were  also  buried,  as  sometimes 
were  lamps.  Later,  the  sacrifices  themselves  were 
omitted,  but  the  bowl  and  lamp  were  still  used  as 
foundation  deposits.18    At  Megiddo  and  Taanach, 

1  Petrie,  Memphis,  vol.  L,  London,  1909,  p.  8. 

2  Petrie,  Nebesheh  (Am)  and  Defenneh  (Tahpanhes),  London, 
Z888,  p.  14. 

3  lb.  p.  65.  •      4  Petrie,  Naukratis,  London,  18S6,  p.  28. 
6  Petrie,  Nebesheh,  etc.,  p.  39  f. 

6  Maspero,  Manual  of  Egypt.  Archaeology^,  p.  49. 

7  Petrie,  Abydos,  vol.  i.,  London,  1902. 

8  lb.  vol.  iii.,  1904,  p.  19.  9  lb.  vol.  ii.,  1903,  p.  11. 
i"  Petrie,  Koptos,  London,  1896,  p.  11. 

11  Petrie,  Kahun,  Gurob,  and  Hamara,  London,  1890  p.  22 

12  Petrie,  Illahun,  Kahun,  and  Gurob,  London,  1891,  p.  5. 

13  A  private  letter  from  Reisner. 

1*  See  D.  Randall  Maciver,  Areika,  Oxford,  1909,  p.  9 

"  See  Macalister,  Bible  Side  Lights,  p.  168  ff 

">  lb.  p.  170  ff.  17  lb.  p.  169  ff.  18  lb.  p.  171. 


foundations  were  apparently  consecrated  by  human 
sacrifices,  but  those  reported  were  not  found  at 
the  corners,  but  in  the  centre  of  the  houses  or 
rooms.1 

4.  Hebrew. — From  the  sacred  nature  and  im- 
portance of  corner-stones,  which  in  the  earlier 
time  led  to  such  ceremonies  as  have  been  de- 
scribed, certain  literary  uses  have  survived  in  the 
Old  Testament.  Thus  Jer  5126  and  Job  386  use 
'  corners  '  and  '  corner-stones  '  as  synonyms  for 
'foundations.'  In  Jg  202  and  IS  1438  'corners' 
is  used  figuratively  for  '  chiefs '  ;  in  Zee  104 
'  corner-stone '  is  apparently  a  synonym  for  '  ruler.' 
In  Is  2816  it  occurs  in  an  enigmatic  passage,  where, 
whether  the  '  corner-stone '  is  a  figure  for  a  king 
or  a  kingdom,  or  for  trust  in  Jahweh  or  the  re- 
lation of  Jahweh  to  His  people,  the  result  is  right- 
eousness. Such  figurative  uses  of  '  corner '  led  in 
two  late  passages  to  the  thought  that  it  was  the 
crowning  stone  of  a  corner,  not  the  foundation 
stone,  wnich  was  important  (see  Ps  11822,  Zee  47). 

In  Zee  916  the  '  corners  of  the  altar '  are  men- 
tioned as  being  'filled.'  These  were  projections 
which  were  sometimes  called  'horns'  (see  ALTAR 
[Semitic],  §  17).  Possibly,  like  the  corners  of 
buildings,  the  corners  of  the  altar  were  thought 
to  be  specially  sacred. 

The  sacredness  which  attached  to  corners  was 
applied  by  the  Hebrews  to  the  hair.  Lv  1927 
reads,  '  Ye  shall  not  round  the  corners  of  your 
heads,  neither  shalt  thou  mar  the  corners  of  thy 
beard.'  As  under  certain  circumstances  hair  was 
regarded  by  the  Semites  as  sacred  to  Jahweh  (see 
W.  R.  Smith,  pp.  323-331),  possibly  the  corners 
were  all  considered  to  be  sacred  to  Him.  One 
might  infer  from  the  statement  of  Herodotus 
(iii.  8)  about  the  bair  of  the  Arabs  that  they 
sacrificed  the  '  corners  '  of  their  hair  to  their  goof. 
Whatever  the  motive  of  the  Levitical  regulation, 
— whether  to  differentiate  their  custom  from  that 
of  the  heathen  Arabs,  or  simply  to  keep  locks 
sacred  to  Jahweh  untouched, — it  has  produced 
among  the  Jews  of  modern  Palestine  and  else- 
where in  the  Orient  and  in  Eastern  Europe,  as 
well  as  among  the  strictly  orthodox  Jews  of  Russia 
and  Poland,  the  curious  custom  of  permitting  the 
lock  at  each  side  of  the  forehead  to  grow  long. 
These  locks  are  curled  and  permitted  to  hang 
down  in  front  of  the  ears,  presenting  a  peculiar 
appearance,  and  distinguishing  the  Jew  from  all 
other  religionists  in  that  land  (cf.  Mannheimer, 
in  JE  ix.  595). 

Another  Hebrew  regulation,  arising  from  the 
sacredness  of  corners,  was  the  law  which  forbade 
a  man  in  harvest  to  reap  the  corners  of  his  field 
(Lv  199  2322).  Because  the  corner  of  the  field  was 
sacred  to  Jahweh,  the  grain  which  grew  in  it  must 
be  left,  that  the  poor  might  come  and  gather  it. 
This  regulation  was  generally  observed  in  OT 
times,  as  the  Book  of  Ruth  shows.  Since  the  law 
was  indefinite,  however,  just  what  this  law  de- 
manded of  a  farmer  became  a  matter  of  debate 
when  the  oral  law  developed.  The  results  of 
these  discussions  were  afterwards  embodied  in 
the  Mishnic  tract  Pe'ah,  or  '  Corner.'  Perhaps 
because  the  Bab.  Jews  were  nearly  all  engaged  in 
commerce,  this  tract  is  copied  in  the  Bab.  Talmud 
without  additions.  But  in  Palestine,  where  the 
Jews  were  still  agriculturists,  the  law  of  the 
'  corner '  was  still  vital  and  developing,  so  that 
the  Jerusalem  Talmud  contains  a  Gemara  upon 
the  Mishnic  text. 

The  first  problem  to  which  the  Rabbis  addressed 
themselves  was  how  much  the  owner  of  a  field 
must  leave  for  the  poor  in  order  to  satisfy  the  law. 
It  was  agreed  that  a  just  man  would  leave  one- 

1  See  Schumacher,  Tell  el-Mutesellim,  Leipzig,  1908,  pp. 
45,  54  ;  Sellin,  Tell  Ta'annek,  Vienna,  1904,  p.  61. 


CORRUPTION  AND  BRIBERY 


121 


sixtieth  of  the  field  as  a  '  corner,'  though  the 
amount  might  vary  with  the  size  of  the  field,  the 
number  of  the  poor,  and  the  richness  of  the  yield. 
If  a  man  left  one  stalk  standing,  he  could  not  be 
held  to  have  broken  the  law,  for  the  sacred  text 
did  not  define  the  size  of  a  corner.  Seemingly  all 
possible  questions  were  raised  and  decided  by  the 
&abbis.  For  example,  they  decided  that  a  man 
fulfilled  the  law  if  he  left  the  proper  amount  in 
the  middle  of  the  field  instead  of  in  a  corner  ;  that 
the  law  applied  to  leguminous  plants  as  well  as 
to  grain ;  that  it  applied  to  the  following  trees  : 
tanners'  sumac,  the  carob  tree,  nut  trees,  almond 
trees,  vineyards,  pomegranates,  olive  trees,  and 
the  date  palm.  They  had  to  decide  when  the 
'  corner '  should  be  estimated  before  the  tithes 
were  paid,  and  when  after  ;  when  two  men  shared 
a  field,  whether  they  must  both  leave  a  '  corner ' ; 
if  a  man  raised  two  kinds  of  grain  in  his  field, 
whether  he  must  leave  a  corner  for  each  ;  if  a  man 
left  a  '  corner '  for  the  poor  and  they  did  not  take 
it,  how  long  he  must  wait  before  he  could  take  it 
himself ;  whether,  if  something  more  than  what 
was  intended  were  left  in  the  field  through  forget- 
fulness,  the  owner  could  return  for  it,  or  whether 
it  must  be  counted  as  a  '  corner  '  ;  whether  a  rich 
man,  who,  when  on  a  journey,  had  been  compelled 
to  avail  himself  of  pe'ah,  was  obliged  to  restore  it  ; 
and  many  other  points  such  as  arose  in  adminis- 
tering the  law. 

Literature. — G.  Perrot  and  C.  Chipiez,  Hist,  de  Vart  dans 
Vantiquitt,  vol.  ii.,  Paris,  1884,  pp.  328-332 ;  G.  Maspero, 
Manual  of  Egyp.  Archozology'' ,  London,  1902,  p.  49  ff.;  R.  A.  S. 
Macalister,  Bible  Side  Lights  from  the  Mound  of  Gezer,  New 
York,  1906,  pp.  168-171  ;  J.  A.  Selbie,  art.  '  Coruer-Stone,'  in 
HDB  i.  499b  ;  c.  J.  Ball,  art.  '  Cuttings  of  the  Flesh,"  §  5, 
EBi,  col.  973  ft.;  G.  M.  Mackie,  art.  '  Corner-Stone,'  in  Hast- 
ings' DCG  i.  369 ff.;  A.  R.  S.  Kennedy,  art.  'Corner,  Corner- 
stone,' in  Hastings' SUB,  p.  160 ff.;  K.  Kohler,  art.  'Corner- 
Stone  '  in  JE  iv.  275 ;  J.  Z.  Lauterbach,  art.  '  Pe'ah,'  ib.  ix. 

6«8  ff.  George  A.  Barton. 

CORRUPTION  AND  BRIBERY.— 1.  An- 
cient Rome. — For  first-hand  information  on  bribery 
in  ancient  Rome  we  naturally  turn  to  the  speeches 
of  Cicero,  pro  Cn.  Plancio  and  pro  L.  Murena. 
As  we  study  these,  we  feel  inclined  to  subscribe  to 
the  dictum  of  Montesquieu  upon  the  condition  of 
Rome  and  her  provinces  under  the  Republic  :  '  La 
liberte  etait  dans  le  centre,  et  la  tyrannie  aux 
extremites.'  The  provinces  were  the  farm  of  the 
Roman  people,  ana  the  provincials  were  the  live 
stock  to  be  fleeced  by  the  governor.  Whether  a 
Csecilius  or  a  Cornelius  obtained  a  province,  it  is  at 
once  clear  that  the  main  aim  of  the  governor, 
during  the  year  of  his  provincial  life,  was  to  acquire 
enoug-h  money  to  purchase  that  supreme  object  of 
his  ambition — the  consulship.  In  order  to  in- 
gratiate himself  with  the  people,  he  therefore 
supplied  the  citizens  of  Rome  with  large  quantities 
of  corn  below  cost  price,  the  deficiency  being  made 
up  by  the  province.  When  the  rivalry  for  the 
consulship  grew  acute,  it  became  usual  for  a 
candidate,  anxious  to  secure  his  election,  to  give 
the  people  a  munus,  or  'treat,'  in  the  way  of  a 
gladiatorial  show.  A  munus,  it  may  be  remarked, 
sometimes  cost  the  candidate  a  matter  of  seven 
thousand  pounds.  All  this  expense  came  out  of 
the  amount  accumulated  during  the  year  of  pro- 
vincial life,  and  an  ample  margin  had  likewise  to 
be  provided  to  bribe  the  jury  who  should  try  the 
successful  candidate  for  bribing  the  tribes.  This 
indirect  bribery  of  the  people  dated  from  the 
beginning  of  the  6th  cent,  of  Rome. 

'For  Ave  hundred  years,'  writes  Mommsen  (Hist.  iii.  40), 
'  the  community  had  been  content  with  one  festival  in  the  year, 
and  with  one  circus.  The  first  Roman  demagogue  by  profession, 
Gaius  Flaminius,  added  a  second  festival  and  a  second  circus  [in 
the  year  220  B.C.] ;  and  by  these  institutions— the  tendency  of 
which  is  sufficiently  indicated  by  the  very  name  of  the  new 
festival,  "the  plebeian  games" — he  probably  purchased  the 
permission  to  give  battle  at  the  Trasimene  lake.' 


In  159  B.C.  the  lex  Cornelia  punished  with  exile 
those  found  guilty  of  bribing  the  electors  with 
money  ;  it  is,  therefore,  evident  that  the  direct 
purchase  of  the  votes  of  the  electors  must  have 
existed  a  considerable  time  before  the  passing  of 
that  law.  Indeed,  as  early  as  the  year  432  B.C., 
we  meet  with  the  first  law  against  ambitus,  for- 
bidding persons  to  add  white  to  their  dress  to 
signify  that  they  were  candidates.  '  Ne  cui  album, ' 
Livy  informs  us  (IV.  xxv.  13),  '  investimentum 
addere  petitionis  liceret  causa.'  This  measure 
reminds  us  of  the  (English)  Corrupt  Practices  Act 
of  1854,  prohibiting  the  giving  of  cockades  to 
voters.  The  lex  Poetelia  (358  B.C.)  forbade  candi- 
dates to  carry  on  their  canvass  anywhere  save  in 
the  Forum  and  Campus  Martius.  '  De  ambitu,' 
writes  Livy  (VII.  xv.  12),  'ab  C.  Poetelio  tribuno 
plebis  auctoribus  patribus  turn  primum  ad  populum 
latum  est ;  eaque  rogatione  novorum  maxime 
hominum  ambitionem,  qui  nundinas  et  concili- 
abula  obire  soliti  erant,  conpressam  credebant.' 
The  laws  against  ambitus  increased  in  number,  but 
decreased  in  value.  In  181  B.C.  the  lex  Cornelia 
Baebia  was  passed  (Liv.  XL.  xix.  11).  Attempts 
were  made  to  remedy  the  corrupt  practices  of  the 
day  by  the  lex  Gabinia,  or  Ballot  Act  (139  B.C.), 
and  the  lex  Maria.  In  the  former  it  was  enacted 
that  in  elections  voting  should  be  by  ballot,  i.e.  by 
writing  the  name  of  the  candidate  on  a  ticket  or 
tablet  (tabella).  By  the  latter,  C.  Marius,  in  his 
second  consulate  (104  B.C.),  established  the  pontes, 
or  narrow  passages  to  the  voting-booths,  by  which 
he  designed  the  protection  of  the  voters  against 
the  evil  influence  of  the  astute  electioneering 
agents.  Regular  agents  (interpretes)  were  em- 
ployed to  arrange  the  bargain  with  the  elector, 
and  the  money  promised  {pronuntiata  [cf.  Cic. 
pro.  Plane.  45 ;  Ep.  ad  Att.  I.  xvi.  13])  was  paid 
by  the  candidates  themselves,  either  directly  to 
the  paymasters  (divisores  [cf.  Ep.  ad  Att.  IV. 
xvi.  7 ;  pro  Plane.  55])  for  distribution,  or  to 
trustees  (sequestres)  appointed  by  the  parties,  who 
held  it  until  the  elections  were  over.  Cicero,  in 
the  de  Lege  Agr.  (ii.  4),  terms  the  lex  Gabinia  the 
law  whereby  '  Liberty  can  assert  herself  without  a 
word  ' ;  but  in  practice  the  voice  of  Liberty  was  as 
much  stifled  then  as  it  was  afterwards  in  the  case 
of  the  English  boroughs.  In  Rome,  as  in  England, 
electors  appear  to  have  habitually  adhered  to  their 
contracts. 

By  the  lex  Mlia  Calpurnia  (67  B.C.),  a  heavy 
fine  was  imposed  on  the  candidate  who  should  use 
bribery,  whether  successful  or  not ;  and  this  law 
deprived  him  for  ever  of  the  right  of  holding  an 
office  or  sitting  in  the  Senate,  in  this  respect 
surpassing  in  stringency  even  the  Corrupt  Prac- 
tices Prevention  Act,  under  which  the  disability 
to  sit  in  the  House  of  Commons  or  to  vote  at  an 
election  to  Parliament  lasts  only  seven  years. 
This  just  law  contains  a  provision  which  grates 
somewhat  harshly  on  our  ears.  If  a  person  con- 
victed of  bribery  secured  the  conviction  of  another 
on  the  same  charge,  in  the  eyes  of  the  law  his  guilt 
was  wiped  out.  The  lex  Mlia  Calpurnia  seems  to 
have  inflicted  a  fine  on  divisores  and  other  agents, 
thus  recognizing  a  principle  which  was  long  ignored 
in  English  legislation.  The  law  in  question  was 
repeated,  with  additional  rigour  as  to  its  penal 
clauses,  in  the  lex  Tullia  de  ambitu,  which  was 
passed  in  Cicero's  consulate  (63  B.C.).  The  purport 
of  this  measure  is  given  in  the  Scholia  Bobbiensia 
(p.  309)  and  in  Dio  Cassius  (xxxvii.  29),  as  well  as 
by  Cicero  himself  in  several  passages  of  the  speeches 
pro  Murena  (47,  89),  in  Vatinium,  and  others  (pro 
Sest.  133 ;  Interr.  in  Vat.  37  ;  pro  Plane.  83). 

In  his  desire  for  reform,  Cicero  was  supported 
by  all  true  patriots,  amongst  others  by  Servius 
Sulpicius,  who  wished  for  some  change  of  the  laws 


122 


CORRUPTION  AND  BRIBERY 


relating  to  elections  under  certain  conditions,  viz. 
to  establish  confusio  suffragiorum,  or '  mass- voting,' 
as  a  means  of  preventing  bribery,  whenever  a  fresh 
election  took  place  in  consequence  of  an  elected 
magistrate  having  been  convicted  of  ambitus.  We 
also  begin  to  hear  of  indices  editicii  to  try  cases  of 
bribery.  The  Senate,  on  Cicero's  motion,  declared 
by  a  senatus-consultum  the  provisions  of  the  lex 
JElia  Calpumia  applicable  to  any  candidate  who 
should  keep  about  him  hired  followers,  or  who 
should  entertain  the  people  with  gladiatorial  shows 
— except  under  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  its 
being  required  by  a  testamentary  disposition — or 
refreshments  of  any  kind.  The  last  clause  is 
perhaps  the  earliest  law  against  'treating'  of 
which  we  find  record.  In  the  provinces  the  lex 
Colonics  Genetivce  likewise  forbade  treating  at 
municipal  elections.  By  it — and  the  provisions 
sound  wonderfully  modern — no  candidate  is  to 
give,  or  cause  to  be  given,  dinners ;  he  is  not  to 
have  more  than  nine  any  day  at  dinner ;  nor  is  he 
to  give,  or  cause  to  be  given,  bribes  or  gifts ;  nor 
is  any  one  else  to  give  dinners  or  bribes  for  him. 
The  penalty  for  the  violation  of  this  statute  is  five 
thousand  sesterces.  The  lex  Tullia  of  Cicero's 
consulate  confirmed  the  provisions  of  the  lex  JElia 
Calpumia,  punished  corrupt  candidates  with  ten 
years'  exile,  and  inflicted  severe  penalties  on  cor- 
rupt electors.  It  prohibited  the  candidate  from 
exhibiting  gladiatorial  shows  or  public  amusements 
within  two  years  of  the  commencement  of  his 
candidature. 

If  efficiently  enforced,  the  lex  Tullia  should  have 
stamped  out  bribery.  Roman  history,  however, 
shows  how  little  effect  this  law  exercised  in  putting 
an  end  to  corruption.  The  price  of  the  consulate 
showed  no  tendency  to  fall.  The  quotations  for 
the  year  54  B.C.  show  the  enormous  figure  of  ten 
million  sesterces — practically  £100,000 — offered  for 
the  first  voting  division  alone.  A  few  facts  about 
some  of  the  chief  men  speak  eloquently  as  to  the 
spread  of  bribery.  In  the  year  62  B.  c. ,  Cseaar  owed 
nearly  £250,000  sterling.  When  twenty-four  years 
of  age,  Marcus  Antonius  owed  £50,000 ;  fourteen 
years  later  his  liability  was  no  less  than  £300,000. 
Cicero  (Ep.  ad  Att.  IV.  xv.  7)  writes  to  Atticus: 
'  Bribery  is  at  boiling  point.  Ecce  signum  I  On 
15th  July  interest  on  money  rose  from  4  to  8  per 
cent.'  This  means  that  money  was  so  much  in 
demand  for  the  electors  that  the  rate  of  interest 
doubled.  The  Senate  felt  impelled  to  take  action, 
and  in  61  B.C.  two  noteworthy  decrees  were  passed. 
By  one  it  was  rendered  lawful  to  search  the  houses 
of  magistrates  suspected  of  having  money  deposited 
with  them  to  be  used  for  corrupt  purposes  (ib. 
I.  xvi.  13).  By  the  other  it  was  enacted  that  any 
magistrate  in  whose  house  bribing  agents  should 
be  harboured  should  be  held  guilty  of  a  State 
offence.  When  Cicero  (pro  Plane.)  speaks  of  a 
sum  of  money  hidden  in  the  Flaminian  circus,  and 
seized  by  the  authorities,  he  clearly  implies  that 
the  concealers  thereof  meant  the  voters  to  find  it. 

This  ancient  plan  has  been  imitated  in  modern  times.  For 
example,  in  1868  each  freeman  in  the  city  of  Dublin  received 
his  £5  note  from  a  hole  in  the  wall.  At  Shaftesbury,  in  1774, 
an  alderman  of  the  town,  disguised  as  Punch,  pasBed  through  a 
hole  in  the  door  twenty  guineas  to  each  voter,  for  which  each 
was  obliged  to  sign  a  bill  payable  to  a  fictitious  Glenbucket, 
in  order  to  disguise  the  nature  of  the  transaction. 

The  two  decrees  of  61  B.C.  were  as  ill  obeyed  as 
their  predecessors:  In  the  year  59  B.C.  was  carried 
the  lex  Licinia  de  Sodaliciis,  which  forbade  the 
corruption  of  the  tribes  by  means  of  the  illegal 
organization  of  clubs.  This  law  brings  before  us 
the  difference  between  legal  and  illegal  canvassing, 
and  at  times  the  border  line  between  the  two  was 
thin.  For  example,  it  was  right  and  proper  to 
give  treats  or  public  shows  to  the  voters  in  their 
tribes  (tributim),  but  it  was  illegitimate  if  given  to 


the  people  en  masse  (vulgo).  It  was  right  and 
proper  to  employ  liberalitas  in  the  conduct  of  the 
election,  while  it  was  wrong  and  improper  to  use 
largitio  (pro  Mur.  77).  It  was  fitting  that  candi- 
dates should  look  to  their  sodalicia,  or  '  brother- 
hoods,' for  assistance  at  the  time  of  election  ;  but, 
if  they  employed  the  sodales  to  mark  off  the  tribe 
into  small  companies  (decurim),  each  to  be  brought 
by  the  wiles  of  one  of  the  brotherhood  to  favour  a 
particular  candidate,  then  the  Licinian  law  pro- 
nounced this  candidate  guilty  of  using  undue  in- 
fluence (on  the  modus  operandi,  cf.  pro  Plane. 
44-47,  also  37,  39).  Unsuccessful  candidates  could 
be  punished  for  ordinary  ambitus,  but  only  suc- 
cessful ones  could  be  tried  under  the  provisions  of 
the  Act  de  Sodaliciis.  In  52  B.C.  Pompeius  intro- 
duced a  measure  against  bribery,  intimidation,  and 
illegal  influence,  which  applied  to  offences  com- 
mitted so  far  back  as  20  years  before  his  third 
consulship.  That  the  offenders  were  many  is 
evident  from  the  letters  of  Cicero.  In  Fam.  VII. 
ii.  4  he  writes :  '  I  am  kept  incessantly  at  work  by 
the  number  of  trials  under  the  new  Act.'  The 
retrospective  clause  proved  of  grave  importance, 
and  in  the  issue  hastened  the  fall  of  the  Republic. 
Julius  Csesar  perceived  the  hopelessness  of  attempt- 
ing to  suppress  corruption  by  statute,  and  he 
endeavoured  to  minimize  its  effects  by  reserving  to 
himself  the  choice  of  half  the  candidates.  Under 
the  Empire  the  all-important  power  of  the  Princeps 
left  no  room  for  anibitio,  save  in  the  restricted 
sphere  of  election  to  municipal  office.  The  attention 
of  Augustus  was  directed  not  against  electoral 
corruption,  but  against  the  bribing  of  jurymen. 
Cicero's  reference  to  this  is  well  known.  Clodius 
had  been  acquitted  on  the  charge  of  violating  the 
rites  of  the  Bona  Dea,  when  Cicero  gave  evidence 
against  the  alibi  which  he  set  up.  '  The  jury,' 
sneered  Clodius,  '  did  not  give  you  credit  on  your 
oath.'  '  Yes,' retorted  Cicero,  '  twenty  -five  out  of 
the  fifty -six  did  ;  the  remaining  thirty-one  refused 
you  credit,  for  they  took  the  bribe  in  advance. ' 

When  we  bear  in  mind  the  scanty  amount  of 
legislation  in  early  times,  it  is  obvious  that  stren- 
uous efforts — at  least  on  paper— were  made  to  put 
down  corruption.  In  practice,  however,  little  was 
done,  and  we  feel  inclined  to  think  that  many  of 
these  laws  savoured  of  the  pious  resolutions  often 
passed  at  public  meetings  nowadays.  The  laws, 
like  the  resolutions,  looked  well.  An  unenlightened 
electorate  like  the  Roman  may  have  a  vague  sense 
of  public  duty  which  we  may  call  Imperialism. 
Unless  moved  by  this  spirit,  or  unless  highly 
organized  by  the  party  system,  it  is  almost  in- 
evitable that  bribes  will  be  employed  with  such 
voters.  The  Roman  lacked  this  sense  of  Impe- 
rialism, and  he  certainly  lacked  the  party  spirit. 

1  Party  phrases,'  writes  Mommsen  (iii.  300),  '  were  in  free 
circulation :  of  the  parties  themselves  there  was  little  trace  in 
matters  really  and  directly  practical.  Throughout  the  whole 
seventh  century  the  annual  public  elections  to  the  civil  magis- 
tracies, especially  to  the  consulship  and  censorship,  formed  the 
real  standing  question  of  the  day,  and  the  focus  of  political 
agitation  ;  but  it  was  only  in  isolated  and  rare  instances  that 
the  different  candidates  represented  opposite  political  prin- 
ciples ;  ordinarily  the  question  related  purely  to  persons,  and  it 
was  for  the  course  of  affairs  a  matter  of  indifference  whether 
the  majority  of  votes  fell  to  a  Csecilian  or  to  a  Cornelian.  The 
Romans  thus  lacked  that  which  outweighs  and  compensates  all 
the  evils  of  party-life — the  free  and  common  movement  of  the 
masses  towards  what  they  discern  as  a  befitting  aim — and  yet 
endured  all  those  evils  solely  for  the  benefit  of  the  paltry  game 
of  the  ruling  coteries.' 

2.  Ancient  Greece. — Greek  history  discloses  a 
purer  state  of  affairs  than  Roman,  and  this  is  due, 
inter  alia,  to  the  fact  that  Imperialism  and  party 
spirit  prevailed  to  a  large  extent  in  Greece.  Nicias 
knew  that  he  could  reckon  on  the  spirit  of  Im- 
perialism when  he  reminded  his  soldiers,  in  dire 
straits  in  the  harbour  of  Syracuse,  of  rb  )iiya  bvo/m 
tSiv  'KBt]vCiv.     The  democracy  of  Athens  possessed 


CORRUPTION  AND  BRIBERY 


123 


a  political  education  superior  to  the  Roman,  and 
her  citizens  developed  a  sense  of  duty  to  the  City 
of  the  Violet  Crown,  not  possessed  to  the  same 
extent  by  him  who  owed  allegiance  to  the  City  of 
the  Seven  Hills.  When  no  longer  moved  by  these 
better  feelings,  party  spirit  (ipiffeLa)  exercised  much 
influence.  Solon  saw  the  useful  aspect  of  loyalty 
to  party  when  he  punished  the  citizen  who,  on  the 
outbreak  of  any  sedition  or  attempt  at  revolution, 
should  stand  aloof  and  take  part  with  neither 
side — an  enactment  that  we  find  in  some  Con- 
tinental constitutions.  Aristotle  {Pol.  V.  ix.  11) 
records  the  terms  of  an  oligarchical  oath  taken  on 
assuming  office.  '  And  I  will  be  malignant,'  it 
runs,  '  against  the  people,  and  I  will  devise  against 
them  whatever  evil  I  can.'  In  order  to  meet  with 
a  parallel  to  this  frank  statement  of  one's  duty  to 
his  party,  we  must  refer  to  the  notorious  remark  of 
President  Andrew  Jackson  when  he  proclaimed 
the  doctrine,  'To  the  victors  belong  the  spoils.' 
The  dependence  of  office  on  lot,  the  mode  of  electing 
the  elders  in  Lacedsemon  (Plutarch,  Lycurg.  26), 
rendered  electoral  corruption  impossible  in  Greece. 
One  fact  is  highly  significant.  The  word  Se/cttfciv, 
the  only  Greek  word  for  '  to  bribe,'  is  a  very  rare 
verb  indeed,  and  its  normal  use  is  for  tampering 
with  juries  rather  than  with  electors.  Aristotle 
does  not  recognize  electoral  corruption  at  all, 
unless  such  be  his  meaning  when  he  says  that  in 
Carthage  the  most  important  offices,  including 
even  the  throne  and  the  command  of  the  forces, 
were  'purchasable'  (ilfT/rds,  Pol.  II.  xi.  10),  adding 
the  outspoken  reflexion,  '  It  is  natural  that  a  man 
should  make  money  of  his  office  if  he  has  to  pay 
for  it.'  Perhaps  his  meaning  is  that  it  may  have 
been  possible  to  purchase  high  office  in  Carthage, 
just  as  it  was  possible,  till  our  own  day,  to  purchase 
commissions  in  the  British  army  or  judicial  posi- 
tions in  France.  If  his  meaning  is  that  office  was 
accessible  only  by  bribery,— and  this  seems  to  be 
the  view  of  Polybius  (VI.  lvi.  4), — then  in  this 
respect  Carthage,  in  the  opinion  of  Aristotle,  was 
unique  in  the  ancient  world. 

The  payment  of  persons  invested  with  public 
functions  to  induce  them  to  use  them  unjustly, 
and  of  juries  to  procure  verdicts  against  the  evi- 
dence, were,  however,  grave  forms  of  corruption. 
The  quarrels  of  Demosthenes  and  jEschines  show 
how  untrustworthy  the  public  functionaries  be- 
came, and  the  history  of  Sparta  illustrates  the 
same  matter  (Herod,  ix.  87,  88). 

Pausanias,  for  example,  when  attainted  of  treason,  returned 
to  Sparta  in  the  certainty  that  he  could  buy  off  his  punishment 
(Thuc.  i.  131).  Laotychides,  Pleistoanax,  Astoyehus,  Clean- 
dridas,  and  Gylippus  all  took  bribes.  Thucydides  tells  us  (viii. 
46)  that  the  trierarcha  and  generals  of  the  Lacedaemonian  and 
allied  fleet — all  save  Hermocrates — took  money  from  Tissa- 
phernes  to  betray  the  interests  of  their  country.  Themistocles 
(Herod,  viii.  4,  5)  took  and  administered  bribes ;  but  it  was  to 
save,  not  to  betray,  his  country.  Aristotle  evidently  thought 
that  the  ephoralty  in  Sparta  was  corrupt.  '  The  ephors,'  he 
remarks,  '  are  chosen  from  the  whole  body  of  the  people,  so  the 
office  often  falls  into  the  hands  of  very  needy  persons,  who 
accordingly  have  shown. themselves  corrupt'  (Pol.  n.  ix.  19). 
As  he  terms  the  ephoralty  '  the  keystone  of  the  constitution,' 
we  may  infer  that  Sparta  was  more  corrupt  than  the  majority 
of  the  Greek  States. 

One  remark  of  Aristotle  shows  clearly  how  little 
electoral  corruption  prevailed  in  Greece.  He  con- 
demns canvassing ;  he  condemns  even  the  candi- 
date's application  for  office.  '  The  man,'  he  informs 
us,  '  who  is  fit  for  the  place  should  have  it,  whether 
he  wants  it  or  not.  No  one  would  apply  for  office 
if  he  were  not  ambitious  ;  and  ambition  and  eovet- 
ousness  are  the  most  common  motives  to  crime' 
(Pol.  II.  ix.  27).  With  regard  to  corruption,  Aris- 
totle was  plainly  afraid  of  the  embezzling  of  public 
moneys,  and  the  dishonest  discharge  of  public 
functions.  To  meet  the  former  abuse,  he  proposes 
(V.  viii.  19)  that  transfers  of  public  money  should 
be  made  in  the  presence  of  all  the  citizens,  and 


that  duplicates  of  the  accounts  should  be  deposited 
with  certain  bodies  ;  and,  to  counteract  the  latter, 
that  there  should  be  '  certain  distinctions  ordained 
by  law  for  those  who  have  a  good  name  for  probity. ' 
In  England  and  other  countries  the  latter  provi- 
sion is  customarily  observed.  Aristotle  holds  that 
public  officials  should  be  absolved  from  the  neces- 
sity of  supporting  themselves  while  serving  the 
State.  They  must  have  leisure  to  govern.  But 
at  the  present  time,  he  writes  (Pol.  III.  vi.  10), 
'  for  the  sake  of  the  profit  to  be  made  out  of  the 
public  purse  and  official  position,  men  want  to  be 
always  in  office.  They  hunt  after  places  with 
such  eagerness  that  one  might  imagine  they  were 
invalids  to  whom  health  was  impossible  except 
when  in  office.'  These  official  salaries,  however, 
must  not  be  so  great  as  to  excite  cupidity.  A 
mere  competence  was  not  the  goal  of  that  '  ambi- 
tion '  which  Aristotle  regarded  with  such  alarm. 

3.  The  East. — In  the  West  we  are  accustomed 
to  speak  of  the  dangers  of  democracy  ;  but  in  this, 
as  in  so  many  other  particulars,  no  such  language 
prevails  in  the  East.  In  India — till  lately,  at  least 
— the  people  are  not  to  be  feared.  '  Blessed  are 
the  poor  and  needy '  is  the  familiar  account  of  Holy 
Writ.  St.  James,  however,  stands  in  some  dread 
of  the  influence  of  the  rich  and  powerful  (cf.  chs. 
2.  5).  In  the  East  the  masses  are  never  the  objects 
of  attempts  at  corruption,  but  the  classes  are ; 
whereas  in  the  West  the  exact  reverse  holds  good. 
The  corruption  in  the  East  assumes  the  terrible 
form  of  being  directed  from  below  upwards.  The 
aged  Samuel,  when  he  invites  the  closest  examina- 
tion of  his  conduct,  exclaims,  '  Whose  ox  have  I 
taken  ?  or  whose  ass  have  I  taken  ?  or  whom  have 
I  defrauded  ?  whom  have  I  oppressed  ?  or  of  whose 
hand  have  I  received  any  bribe  to  blind  mine  eyes 
therewith?'  (1  S  123).  Amos,  in  his  denunciation 
of  the  rule  of  Jeroboam  II. ,  exclaims,  '  They  afflict 
the  just,  they  take  a  bribe,  and  they  turn  aside  the 
poor  in  the  gate  from  their  right'  (Am  512). 

In  the  OT  the  acceptance  of  a  bribe  is  expressly 
forbidden  (Ex  231-  «■ 8,  Dt  1619),  and  one  of  the 
grievous  woes  of  Isaiah  is  launched  at  them  '  which 
justify  the  wicked  for  reward,  and  take  away  the 
righteousness  of  the  righteous  from  him '  (Is  5W ; 
cf.  Job  15s4,  Am  26),  while  '  he  that  despiseth  the 
gain  of  oppressions,  that  shaketh  his  hands  from 
holding  of  bribes  .  .  .  shall  dwell  on  high '  (Is  3315'-). 
Accordingly,  Jehoshaphat  forbade  his  judges  to 
accept  bribes  (2  Ch  197 ;  cf.  Ex  1821),  though  it  is 
only  too  obvious  that  the  Hebrews  were  by  no 
means  unfamiliar  with  corruption  (Is  l23,  Ezk  2212, 
Mic  78,  Mt  2S12U-),  among  the  cases  being  the  be- 
trayal of  our  Lord  by  Judas.  Talmudic  Judaism 
was  very  severe  on  bribery,  though  it  seems  to 
have  been  permissible,  before  the  time  when  the 
judge  received  a  regular  salary,  for  him  to  accept 
an  equal  amount  from  each  of  two  litigant  parties 
before  trying  a  case  (JE  iii.  379-381). 

Zoroastrianism,  with  its  intense  horror  of  false- 
hood, was  naturally  strongly  opposed  to  bribery, 
though  no  specific  mention  of  corruption  occurs  m 
the  extant  Avesta  texts.  According  to  the  late 
Pahlavi  vision  of  Artd-Vlraf  (ch.  lxxix.,  ed.  Haug 
and  West,  Bombay,  1872,  p.  194),  the  soul  of  the 
bribe-taker  suffered  horrible  torture  in  the  world 
to  come.  Both  in  China  and  in  Japan  the  corrupt 
judge  is  severely  punished ;  and  it  may  here  be 
noted  that  in  ancient  America,  among  the  Aztecs, 
such  a  judge  suffered  the  death  penalty  in  grave 
cases  of  bribery,  while  for  lighter  forms  of  venality 
he  was  degraded  from  office,  with  the  additional 
contumely  of  having  his  head  shorn  (Post,  Grund- 
riss  der  ethnolog.  Jurisprudenz,  Oldenburg,  1894-95, 
ii.  328). 

In  the  East  it  is  always  the  people  who  bribe,  it 
is  always  the  officials  who  are  bribed  ;  and  in  India 


124 


CORRUPTION  AND  BRIBERY 


the  difference  between  East  and  West  is  conspicu- 
ous. It  is  perfectly  true  that  the  Hindu  law-books 
rank  bribery  in  the  class  of  '  open  thefts,'  and  that 
the  crime  was  punishable  by  line,  confiscation  of 
property,  banishment,  loss  of  the  case,  etc.  (Jolly, 
Becht  unci  Sitte  [  =  GIAPvii.  8],  pp.  125,  142) ;  but, 
in  spite  of  this,  the  native  Indian  under  British  rule 
is  greatly  puzzled  by  the  apparent  purity  of  the 
English  officials.  That  they  are  really  incorrupt- 
ible he  cannot  believe.  He  looks  on  incorruptibility 
as  Charles  II.  looked  on  honour  and  virtue.  Yet 
he  knows  that  he  could  not  dare  to  offer  a  bribe  to 
the  'Burra  Sahib'  directly.  It  must,  he  thinks, 
be  conveyed  through  successive  grades  of  native 
servants  about  the  Court,  and  it  will  surely — for, 
after  all,  an  Englishman  is  not  different  from  other 
mortals — be  accepted,  if  offered  with  sufficient  dis- 
cretion. No  experience  can  teach  him  that  pure 
administration  of  justice  is  an  existing  fact,  or  any- 
thing else  but  a  means  subtly  devised  for  making 
small  bribes  ineffectual. 

A  native  became  an  Indian  Civil  Servant,  and,  as  such,  ac- 
cepted presents.  His  principle  in  so  doing  was  that  of  Francis 
Bacon.  He  gave  his  judgment  on  the  merits  of  the  case.  If  the 
plaintiff  won,  he  kept  his  gift  and  returned  that  of  the  defend- 
ant, and  vice  versa.  The  hard  thing  is  that  the  Indians  under- 
stood and  admired  the  attitude  of  this  judge,  while  that  of  his 
British  colleague  was  incomprehensible  to  the  native  mind. 
That  incorruptibility  is  regarded  as  a  rare  virtue  is  clearly 
shown  in  a  memoir  of  the  Hon.  Onoocool  Chunder  Mookerjee, 
who  attained  the  position  of  a  judgeship  in  the  High  Court. 
'  Such  was  the  integrity  of  this  remarkable  man,'  writes  his 
nephew,  'that,  having  taken  a  brief  from  one  party  in  a  case 
and  read  it,  he  invariably  refused  a  fee  from  the  other  side.' 

4.  Great  Britain  and  Ireland. — We  turn  from  the 
East  to  the  West,  and  we  find  the  whole  situation 
changed.  With  us  the  tendency  is  to  corrupt  the 
people  in  many  insidious  ways.  In  Stuart  days 
the  members  of  Parliament  were  corrupted  because 
they  were  not  easily  amenable  to  public  opinion.  It 
was  then  thought  necessary  to  lubricate  the  wheels 
of  political  machinery  with  golden  oil ;  but,  as  the 
people  gained  more  control,  this  bribery  of  their 
representatives  slowly  passed  away.  Tampering 
with  judge  and  jury  was  once  common  in  England. 

A  Btatute  of  the  reign  of  Henry  vri.  in  the  year  1494  recites 
that  '  perjury  is  much  and  customarily  used  within  the  city  of 
London  among_  such  persons  as  passen  and  been  impanelled 
upon  issues  joined  between  party  and  party.'  The  Dance  of 
Death,  translated  from  the  French  in  the  same  reign  by  John 
Lydgate,  and  adapted  to  the  England  of  his  day,  mentions  a 
juror  who  had  given  a  false  verdict  for  money.  Stowe  tells  us 
that  in  1468  many  London  jurors  were  punished  by  having 
papers  fastened  to  their  heads,  setting  forth  how  they  had 
been  tampered  with  in  such  and  such  a  suit.  A  letter  from  the 
Bishop  of  London  to  Cardinal  Wolsey,  given"by  Grafton  in  his 
Chronicles,  says  that  a  London  jurjr  would  find  Abel  guilty  of 
the  murder  of  Cain.  Jardine,  in  his  Criminal  Trials,  p.  8, 
maintains  that  the  'proceedings  against  persons  accused  of 
State  offences  in  the  early  periods  of  our  history  do  not  deserve 
the  name  of  trials  ;  they  were  a  mockery  of  justice.' 

The  impeachment  of  Bacon  made  possible  the 
long  line  of  incorruptible  judges  and  immaculate 
juries  that  justly  forms  the  glory  of  England, 
though  the  want  of  publicity  gave  a  longer 
duration  to  the  existence  of  bribery  by  bestowal 
of  office  and  valuable  consideration.  This  state 
of  affairs  is  painfully  apparent  in  the  reign  of 
George  III.  For  example,  388  peers  were  created, 
nearly  all  for  political  jobbery  (May,  Constitutional 
History  of  England,  i.  282).  Bad  as  matters  were 
in  England,  in  Ireland  they  were  a  great  deal  worse. 

'  I  long,'  wrote  Lord  Oornwall'is,  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland, 
to  the  Duke  of  Portland  on  12th  Dec.  1798,  '  to  kick  those  whom 
my  public  duty  obliges  me  to  court.  My  occupation  is  to  nego- 
tiateand  job  with  the  most  corrupt  people  under  heaven.  I 
despise  and  hate  myself  every  hour  for  engaging  in  such  dirty 
work,  and  am  supported  only  by  the  reflexion  that  without  a 
union  the  British  Empire  must  be  dissolved.' 

Corruption  in  England,  as  in  Rome,  assumes  the 
shape  of  bribery  of  the  electorate.  This  reached 
its  widest  development  in  the  days  of  George  III. 
Writing  to  Lord  North,  16th  Oct.  1779,  the  king 
said,  '  If  the  Duke  of  Northumberland  requires 
some  gold  pills  for  the  election,  it  would  be  wrong 
not  to  satisfy  him.'    Aristotle  laid  down  that  man 


was  a  political  animal,  but  the  evidence  of  election 
petitions  goes  to  prove  that  man  is  an  aurivorous 
animal.  If  Borne  gave  her  citizens  bread  and 
circuses,  England  was  no  whit  less  lavish  to  her 
electors.  Charles  II.  held  that  every  man  had  his 
price,  and  the  perusal  of  the  details  of  election- 
eering almost  tempts  us  to  agree  with  him.  If 
the  struggle  for  the  consulate  in  the  700th  year 
of  the  Roman  Republic  produced  an  offer  of  nearly 
£100,000  for  the  vote  of  prcerogativa,  it  is  humili- 
ating to  reflect  that  a  little  over  a  hundred  years 
ago,  in  1807,  when  Wilberforce  contested  York- 
shire against  Lord  Milton  and  the  Hon.  Henry 
Lascelles,  the  total  expenses  of  the  candidates 
exceeded  a  quarter  of  a  million.  In  the  same 
year,  at  Wootton  Bassett,  the  price  of  a  single 
vote  rose  from  twenty  guineas  to  forty-five.  From 
the  will  of  Lord  Vernon,  £5000  seems  to  have  been 
the  recognized  sum  paid  in  1812  for  a  seat  in  Par- 
liament. At  so  recent  a  date  as  the  General 
Election  of  1874,  corruption  was  organized  on  a 
large  scale.  '  The  moment  the  trumpet  is  sounded 
for  a  General  Election,'  deposes  a  witness  before 
a  Norwich  Election  Commission,  '  there  seems  to 
spring  from  the  ground,  as  it  were,  a  host  of  em- 
ployment-seekers.' This  form  of  corruption,  the 
bribing  of  voters  by  offering  good  wages  for  the 
discharge  of  nominal  functions  during  the  period 
of  election,  is  now  the  subtlest  form  of  bribery, 
except  perhaps  the  bribery  which  takes  the  form 
of  munificent  donations  to  local  charities.  The 
days  are  gone  when  the  beautiful  Duchess  of 
Devonshire  could  buy  a  butcher's  vote  -with  a  kiss, 
when  the  genial  Dick  Steele  could  win  over  the 
women  with  an  apple — stuffed  with  guineas — as  a 
prize  for  the  best  wife. 

5.  America. — In  the  far  Western  world,  our 
cousins  do  not  seem  to  have  got  rid  of  corruption. 
Parts  of  the  United  States  are  no  better  than  the 
small  boroughs  of  Southern  England  were  before 
the  Corrupt  Practices  Act  of  1883.  Venality 
occurs,  according  to  J.  Bryce  (American  Common- 
wealth, ii.  238),  chiefly  in  connexion  with  private 
legislation.  Foreign  missions  and  consulates, 
department  bureaus,  custom-house  and  revenue 
offices,  army  and  navy  contracts,  postmasterships, 
agencies,  and  places  of  all  sorts  are  the  spoils  of 
the  victors.  The  essence  of  the  United  States 
system  is  that  paid  offices  are  given  and  taken 
away  for  party  reasons.  In  England,  less  than 
sixty  men  vacate  their  places  with  a  change  of 
ministry ;  in  America,  all  officials  do  so,  except 
those  who  are  appointed  after  passing  the  Civil 
Service  examinations.  Corruption,  of  course,  is 
not  confined  to  the  taking  or  giving  of  money 
bribes,  for  by  graft  uhere  is  the  taking  or  giving 
of  bribes  in  kind.  Thus  the  person  corrupted  may 
receive  the  allot  lent  of  a  certain  quantity  of  stock 
or  shares  in  a  c  npany,  or  of  an  interest  in  a  profit- 
able contract,  or  of  a  land  grant.  Another  form 
may  be  the  doing  of  a  job,  e.g.  promising  a  con- 
tractor that  he  shall  have  the  clothing  of  the  police 
or  the  cleansing  of  the  city  thoroughfares,  in  return 
for  his  political  support ;  giving  official  advertise- 
ments to  a  particular  newspaper  which  puffs  you  ; 
promising  a  railroad  president,  whose  subscription 
to  party  funds  is  hoped  for,  to  secure  the  defeat  of 
a  bill  seeking  to  regulate  the  freight  charges  of  his 
road,  or  threatening  its  land  grants. 

The  effects  of  Andrew  Jackson's  famous  doctrine  of  '  To  the 
victors  belong  the  spoils '  can  perhaps  best  be  seen  in  the  opera- 
tions of  the  Tammany  Ring  in  New  York  City.  The  cost  of 
erecting  and  furnishing  the  County  Court  House  was  estimated 
in  1S68  at  $250,000,  but  before  the  end  of  1871  about  $13,000,000 
had  been  expended  upon  it,  and  it  was  still  unfinished.  The  items 
of  $404,347  for  safes  and  $7500  for  thermometers  show  how  the 
extra  money  had  disappeared.  The  total  price  which  the  city 
paid  for  the  privilege  of  befng  ruled  by  Tammany  from  the 
beginning  of  1869  to  Sept.  1871 — that  is,  thirty-two  monthB— 
amounted  to  no  less  a  sum  than  $81,000,000. 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Introductory) 


125 


6.  France. — France  believes  as  thoroughly  as 
America  in  the  creed  of  Andrew  Jackson.  As  in 
Greeee,  so  in  France,  direct  tampering  with  the 
electorate  hardly  exists.  The  Wilson  scandals 
showed  that  political  corruption  was  wide-spread 
in  the  Republic.  The  public  and  private  bribery 
of  the  supporters  of  the  Second  Empire  left  many 
evil  traces  behind  it.  The  embellishment  of  the 
capital  fostered  a  spirit  of  jobbery,  infecting  all 
the  departments  of  the  State.  The  most  dreadful 
of  all  the  scandals  was  the  Panama  affair.  The 
thrift  of  France  had  subscribed  fifty  millions  ster- 
ling for  the  piercing  of  the  Isthmus  of  Panama, 
undertaken  By  M.  de  Lesseps.  In  1892  it  was 
known  that  most  of  the  money  had  disappeared, 
and  at  the  trial  it  was  clear  that  corruption  ac- 
counted for  the  disappearance.  Floquet  avowed 
that,  when  Prime  Minister,  he  had  laid  hands  upon 
£12,000  of  the  Panama  funds,  and  had  utilized  it 
in  combating  the  enemies  of  the  Government  on 
questions  unconnected  with  the  Canal  (Bodley, 
France,  p.  503).  He  based  his  defence  on  the 
perilous  doctrine  that,  under  normal  circumstances, 
it  was  the  right  and  the  duty  of  the  Ministry  to 
supervise  the  distribution  of  such  subsidies  so  as  to 
prevent  them  from  being  used  to  the  prejudice  of 
the  Government  (Chambre  des  Deputes :  Seance 
du  23  Decembre  1892).  Thi3  principle  has  been 
followed  by  ministers  both  before  and  since  the 
days  of  Floquet.  The  party  system  is  probably 
the  strongest  purifying  agent  in  Parliamentary 
government  under  extended  suffrage.  But,  as  in 
Rome,  so  in  France.  In  neither  country  did  the 
party  system  exist,  and  consequently,  in  both,  cor- 
ruption prevailed.  No  doubt,  the  general  working 
of  the  Parliamentary  system  assists  the  operation 
of  a  corrupt  policy.  It  is,  however,  clear  that  the 
absence  of  government  by  parties  means  the  pres- 
ence of  bribery.  'The  great  motive  power,'  con- 
cludes Bodley  (p.  515),  '  to  keep  wavering  members 
on  the  path  of  parliamentary  integrity  is  the  party 
system,  and  this  is  wanting  in  France.'    Indirect 


tampering  with  the  electorate  can  always  be  ob- 
served There  is  a  bridge  to  be  built,  or  a  lycie 
to  be  instituted,  especially  in  the  arrondiisement 
which  shows  itself  faithful  to  the  Government. 
Here  we  must  meet  with  the  kind  of  corruption 
we  are  certain  to  encounter  in  the  future. 

'Perhaps  we  are  not  at  liberty  to  forget,'  writea  Sir  Henry 
Maine  in  his  Popular  Government  (p.  100),  '  that  there  are  two 
kinds  of  bribery.  It  can  be  carried  on  by  promising  or  (riving 
to  expectant  partisans  places  paid  out  of  the  taxes,  or  it  may 
consist  in  the  directer  process  of  legislating  away  the  property 
of  one  class  and  transferring  it  to  another.  It  ia  thia  last  which 
is  likely  to  he  the  corruption  of  theBe  latter  daya.' 

Corruption  used  to  appeal  to  individuals  ;  now  it 
appeals  to  classes.  The  fanner  is  bribed  with  an 
anticipation  of  prairie  rent,  and  the  artisan  is  bribed 
by  the  prospect  of  protective  legislation.  The  future 
alone  can  disclose  whether  the  old  form  or  the  new 
form  of  corruption  is  the  more  dangerous. 

LrrsRiTtrm.—  T.  C.  Anstey,  Election  Trials,  1870;  Aristotle 
Politics  ;  Bolinghroke,  '  On  Bribery  and  Corruption, '  in  Collec- 
tion of  Political  Tracts,  1769 ;  J.  E.  C.  Bodley,  France,  1898 ; 
J.  Bryce,  The  American  Commonwealth,  1883;  Cicero,  Orat. 
pro  Cn.  Plane,  and  pro  L.  Murena,  and  the  Epistles,  ed.  B.  T. 
Tyrrell  and  L.  0.  Purser,  1879-D7  ;  W.  D.  Christie,  Ballot  and 
Corruption,  1872;  Daremberg-Saglio,  s.v.  'Ambitus'  and 
'  Dekasmon  Graphe'  [theBe  are  notable  articles]  ;  R.  Grafton, 
Chronicle^  Hist,  of  England,  1809 :  H.  Hallam,  Constitutional 
Hist,  of  Eng.,  1863;  Herodotus,  History;  V.  H.  H.  Hobart, 
Essays,  vol.  ti.  (1886);  D.  Jardine,  Criminal  Trials,  1832-36; 
W.  E.  H.  Lecky,  Democracy  and  Liberty,  ed.  1899;  Livy.Hwf. 
Rom,  libri  qui  supersunt ;  J.  Lydgate,  The  Dance  of  Death, 
1664  :  London  Chamber  of  Commerce,  Report  on  Secret  Com- 
missions, 1899 ;  H.  Maine,  Popular  Government,  1886 ;  T.  E. 
May,  Constitutional  Hist,  of  England"*,  1863-65;  Meler-Lipsius, 
Alt.  Prozess,  1883-87,  p.  444  f. ;  T.  Mommsen,  Hist,  of  Rome, 
Eng.  tr.  ed.  1894,  Rom.  Strafrecht,  1899,  pp.  865-876:  Parlia- 
mentary Papers  (820),  Bribery  at  Elections,  1835  (647) ;  Plutarch, 
Lycurgus :  W.  Rein,  Criminalrecht  der  Romer,  1844,  pp.  701-733 ; 
A.  F.  Rudorff,  Rom.  Rechtsaesch.  (ed.  1869),  ii.  399  ;  W.  Smith, 
Did.  of  Ant.  1890-91,  s.v.  Ambitus'  and  'Decasmus';  ed.  of 
Bacon'B  Works  by  J.  Spedding  (vol.  viii.),  R.  L.  Ellis,  and  D.  D. 
Heath  (1857-74) ;  J.  F.  Stephen,  Hint,  of  Criminal  Law,  1883, 
Digest  of  Criminal  Law,  1877;  J.  Stowe,  '  Historical  Memo- 
randa,'  in  J.  Gairdner,  Three  15th  Cent.  Chronicles,  1880; 
W.  Stubbs,  Constitutional  History  of  England  4,  1883-90 ; 
Thucydides,  Hist,  of  the  Pelvponnesian  War ;  J.  Whiston, 
'  England's  Calamities,  1696,'  in  Harl.  Misc.,  1808-1813,  vol.  vi.  ; 
A.  W.  Zumpt,  Das  Criminalrecht  der  rbm.  Republik,  1865-69, 
ii.  2,  p.  217,  and  passim.  R,  H.  MURRAY. 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY. 


Introductory  (L.  H.  Gray),  p.  125.i 

North  American  (L.  Spence),  p.  126. 

Babylonian  (A.  H.  Sayce),  p.  128. 

Buddhist  (L.  de  la  Valleb  Poussin),  p.  129. 

Celtic  (G.  Dottin),  p.  138. 

Chinese  (W.  G.  Walshe),  p.  138. 

Christian  (E.  K.  Mitchell  and  C.  M.  Geer),  p.  141. 

Egyptian  (W.  M.  Flinders  Petrie),  p.  144. 

Greek  (I.  F.  Burns),  p.  145. 

Hebrew  (J.  P.  Peters),  p.  151. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Intro- 
ductory).— By  cosmogony  is  meant  the  theory  of 
the  origin  of  the  universe.  The  existence  of  a 
developed  cosmogony  seems  to  be  characteristic  of 
a  somewhat  advanced  degree  of  thought.  Among 
the  Australians,  for  example,  such  careful  observers 
as  Spencer,  Gillen,  and  Howitt  record  no  cosmo- 
gonic  myths,  and  the  South  American  Indians  and 
even  the  Finns  have  but  scanty  legends  of  this 
type.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Polynesians  and 
North  American  Indian  stocks  have  cosmogonies 
of  considerable  elaboration.  The  reason  for  this 
deficiency  in  certain  parts  of  the  world  evidently 
lies  in  the  amount  of  abstract  thought  required  for 
the  development  of  a  cosmogony  ;  for,  though  the 
existence  of  living  beings,  especially  those  of 
human  kind,  presents  a  creation  problem  which 
even  primitive  man  endeavours  to  solve  in  many 
ways  long  before  attempting  to  account  for  the 
beginning  of  the  universe,  these  solutions  do  not 
come,  strictly  speaking,  within  the  scone  of  cos- 


Indian  (H.  J.  Jacobi),  p.  155. 
Iranian  (L.  H.  Gray),  p.  161. 

Japanese  (M.  Revon),  p.  162. 
ewish  (H.  Loewe),  p.  167. 
lexican  and  S.  American  (R.  Lowie),  p.  168. 
Muhammadan  (S.  Lane-Poole),  p.  174. 
Polynesian  (L.  H.  Gray),  p.  174. 
Roman  (I.  F.  Burns),  p.  175. 
Teutonic  (S.  G.  Youngert),  p.  176. 
Vedic— See  Vedic  Religion. 

mogony,  but  rather  within  that  of  creation  (q.v.). 
Yet  it  must  be  remembered  that  at  least  the  rudi- 
ments of  cosmogonic  ideas  may  exist  among  tribes 
which  are  not  now  known  to  entertain  them.  A 
further  element  of  difficulty  is  introduced  into  the 
study  of  primitive  cosmogonies  by  the  unconscious 
absorption  of  foreign  elements  derived  from  Chris- 
tian missionaries,  just  as  is  the  case  with  legends 
of  the  Flood. 

Throughout  all  cosmogony  run  certain  basal 
principles,  and  it  is  also  noteworthy  that  legends 
of  this  character,  at  first  discordant  and  contradic- 
tory, gradually  become  harmonized  and  unified 
with  the  progress  of  religious  speculation.  Cos- 
mogonic myths,  almost  without  exception,  seek  to 
explain  the  creation  of  the  world  from  the  fewest 
possible  elements.  Among  the  Babylonians,  where 
at  least  two  divergent  systems  of  cosmogony  may 
be  traced,  the  primal  element  of  the  universe  was 
water,  symbolized  and  ruled  by  Tiamat,  the 
personification  of  'chaos,'  until  she  was  slain  by 


mm*'. 


"■  ' 


1SS 


COSMOGrONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (American) 


the  god  Mardnk.  This  cosmic  ocean  recurs  in 
other  systems  as  well,  notably  in  sump  of  the 
Hindu  cosmogonies  and  in  the  Egyptian  legend  of 
the  Creation.  Yet  in  van  on*  parts  ol  the  Nile 
Valley  different,  oosruupmisa  were  held  ;  at  Ele- 
phantine it  was  believed  that  hLliiium  had  made 
the  cosmic  ecg  from  the  mud  oi  the  Nile  ;  while  at 
Memphis,  Ptah  was  said  Bo  have  carved  the  earth, 
like  a  statue,  into  its  present  form.  Among  the 
Greeks,  with  their  highly  developed  philosophic 
and  abstract  thought.,  a  large  number  of  cosmo- 


gonies were  devised,  the  prime  component  of  the 
universe  being  ocean,  according  to  Homer ;  earth, 
according  to  Hesiod  ;  air,  according;  to  Epimenides  ; 
ether,  according  to  the  rhapsodic  cosmogony ; 
water  and  earth,  according  to  Hieronymus  and 
Hellanicus  ;  water  and  slime,  according  to  Athena- 
goras  ;  and  water,  according  to  Thales.  The  Greek 
cosmogonies  may  be  divided  into  three  classes : 
those  beginning  with  a  spiritual  principle,  as  Zeus ; 
those  beginning  with  an  abstract  principle,  as 
Chaos,  Time,  and  Night ;  and  those  beginning 
with  a  material  principle,  such  as  water,  earth, 
and  ether.  Of  these,  the  third  category  is  doubt- 
less the  most  primitive,  although  even  the  Hesiodic 
cosmogony  is  so  highly  developed  that  it  is  a 
system  of  philosophy  rather  than  of  religion. 
An  almost  equal  degree  of  speculative  thought 
appears  in  the  earliest  record  of  India's  cosmo- 
gony. The  late  129th  hymn  of  the  tenth  book 
of  the  Rigveda  describes  the  '  That,'  or  abstract 
universe,  as  fired  with  inward  meditation  that 
resulted  in  the  creative  Kama,  which  corresponds 
strikingly  and  curiously  with  the  cosmogonic  Eros 
of  the  Greeks.  Other  Vedic  hymns  vaguely  ascribe 
the  creation  of  the  world  to  various  deities,  while 
a  late  hymn  of  the  Rigveda  (x.  90)  declares  that 
the  world  was  formed  from  the  different  members 
of  the  body  of  a  giant.  In  the  later  development 
of  Hindu  thought  the  universe  is  the  creation  of 
Brahma  (or  of  Prajapati  or  some  other  All-God), 
while  the  universe  itself  is  conceived  as  a  cosmic 
egg — a  legend  as  early  as  the  Brahmanaz,  and  re- 
calling the  cosmic  egg  of  Egypt,  the  Polynesian 
creation-myths,  and  the  Greek  Orphic  mysteries. 
It  is  also  noteworthy  that  creation  is  ascribed  to 
sexual  congress  in  cosmogonies  so  diverse  as  the 
Hindu,  Maori,  and  Taoist. 

The  Greek  and  Hindu  cosmogonies  may  be 
termed  ywosi-philosophic,  while  the  Babylonian 
creation-myth  is  rather  one  of  opposition.  In  the 
Iranian  legend  of  the  origin  of  the  universe  the 
same  element  of  opposition  appears,  and  at  the  same 
time  it  may  possibly  illustrate  the  bond  which 
links  the  two.  The  earliest  form  of  the  legend  is 
marked  by  a  conflict  between  Ormazd  and  Ahriman, 
and  the  entire  cosmic  process  is  a  series  of  bene- 
ficent creations  by  the  former  and  of  maleficent 
counter-creations  by  the  latter,  thus  affording  an 
analogue,  in  a  certain  sense,  with  the  conflicts  of 
the  children  of  Papa  and  Rangi  in  the  New  Zealand 
creation-myth.  At  a  later  period,  however,  philo- 
sophic speculation  evolved  the  doctrine  of  '  bound- 
less time,'  from  which  both  Ormazd  and  Ahriman, 
represented  by  Eight  and  Darkness  in  Manichse- 
lsm,  were  sprung.  It  is  clear  that  this  unitarian 
tendency  is  a  later  development ;  and  if  one  may 
argue  from  analogy  it  would  seem  that  the  earliest 
Greek  cosmogony,  instead  of  being  philosophic  like 
the  Hesiodic  version,  was  based  on  opposition,  as 
Hesiod's  account  itself  seems  in  plaees  to  imply. 

The  order  of  creation  naturally  varies  in  different 
cosmogonic  legends.  In  one  of  the  numerous 
systems  of  Egyptian  cosmogony  the  primal  spirit 
and  primal  matter  co-exist  from  all  eternity  in 
indissoluble  union.  The  primal  spirit  longs  to 
ereate,  thus  recalling  the  cosmic  Desire  (Kama, 
"Epiiis)   of   the   Hindu    and  Greek    systems.     This 


results  in  motion  of  the  primal  material,  whose 
basal  qualities  thus  become  visible.  With  the  aid 
of  one  of  them  the  cosmic  egg  is  formed,  from 
which  arises  Re,  the  goa  of  light,  who  forms  the 
world  and  all  that  it  contains.  In  the  Iranian 
account,  as  given  by  the  Biindahiin,  the  order  of 
earthly  creation  is  sky,  stars,  moon,  sun,  land, 
sea,  river,  plants,  animals,  and  man.  A  certain 
similarity  with  the  Greek  cosmogonies,  as  re- 
presented by  Hesiod,  is  shown  in  the  Germanic 
version  given  by  the  Vbluspd,  in  that  the  creation 
of  the  gods,  to  which  the  Babylonian  creation 
tablets  also  refer,  is  elaborately  described.  The 
basal  elements  are  primeval  tune,  Ginnungagap 
(which  corresponds,  in  many  respects,  to  the  Oreefc 
Chaos),  and  primeval  matter.  The  gods  Odin, 
Hoenir,  and  Lodhur  raise  aloft  the  sun  and  moon  (or 
the  earth).  Alter  this  Midhgardh,  the  home  of 
mankind,  is  built ;  the  plants  are  produced  by  the 
warmth  of  the  southern  sun ;  the  seasons  are 
ordained.  The  home  of  the  gods  is  then  built,  and 
the  three  Norns,  or  Fates,  appear,  while  the  cos- 
mogony closes  with  the  creation  of  dwarfs  and  men. 
In  this  last  system  the  cosmic  egg,  which  plays  so 
prominent  a  part  in  many  creation-legends,  is  re- 
placed by  the  cosmic  tree,  which  is,  at  least  to  • 
certain  extent,  paralleled  by  the  golden  lotas  of 
the  Hindu  Pwranas. 

A  curiously  isolated  cosmogony  is  found  in 
Chinese  Taoism,  which  derives  the  four  seasons 
from  the  conjunction  of  the  male  and  female  prin- 
ciples Yang  and  Yin.  The  four  seasons,  in  their 
turn,  produce  the  eight  kwa,  or  phenomena  of 
Nature,  which  are  the  source  of  the  universe. 
Equally  isolated  is  the  general  type  of  the  N  orta 
American  Indian  cosmogony,  which  is  essentially 
one  of  opposition.  It  presupposes  the  prior  existence 
of  another  world  before  the  earth  of  man.  In  this 
world  dwelt  the  gods,  who  gradually  came  into 
conflict  with  each  other,  and  in  the  struggle  all, 
with  a  few  exceptions,  were  transformed  into  those 
objects,  both  animate  and  inanimate,  to  which 
they  were  in  disposition  most  closely  akin,  thus 
giving  rise  to  beasts,  birds,  reptiles,  trees,  rocks, 
and  everything  else.  Meanwhile,  the  divinities 
who  had  escaped  metamorphosis  departed  to  other 
regions,  the  present  world  being  occupied  by 
American  Indians. 

In  entire  keeping  with  the  late  development 
of  cosmogony  and  its  pre-eminently  philosophic 
character,  there  is  almost  no  instance  of  an  ethical 
import  being  attached  tc  it.  Few  peoples  seem 
to  have  thought  of  a  design  fc .'  which  the  world 
was  brought  into  being.  Ti?e  Iranians,  however, 
held  that  the  universe  was  created  for  the  glory 
of  Ormazd,  who  should  finally  triumph  com- 
pletely over  the  machinations  and  creations  of 
the  evil  Ahriman.  In  conclusion,  it  must  be  noted 
that  the  concept  of  creation  ex  nHulo  was  practic- 
ally unknown  to  the  ancient  world.  It  is  present 
neither  in  Babylonian,  Egyptian,  nor  Greek;  and 
its  existence  in  Iranian  thought  is  at  least  problem- 
atical. On  the  other  hand,  the  keenest  philosophers 
of  antiquity,  the  Hindus,  evolved  the  idea  as  early 
as  the  Rigveda,  even  though  but  vaguely,  declaring 
in  a  late  hymn  (x.  72.  2) :  'in  the  primal  age  of  the 
gods  being  was  born  of  non-being  (devdnaiii  piirvt 
yugt  '  saiah  sad  ajayata). 

LrrEiLATCiLE. — Fnnr  T  nl,t  JHe  Qruwidbtgrijf*  in  den  Koam&- 
gonien  der  alien  Talker  (Leipzig.  1S9S) ;  Chantepifi  de  1& 
Saossaye,  LenrtnuJi  der  JUhgionegeach.*  (£  vols..  Tubingen, 

19M;.  Louis  H.  Gray. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (North 
American). — I.  Athapascan  family  (widely  distri- 
buted m  many  tribes  from  Hudson's  Bay  to  the 
Pacific).  —  The  Athapascans  of  the  North-west 
attribute  the  phenomena  of  creation  lo  a  raven. 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (American) 


127 


whose  eyes  were  lire,  whose  glauceis  were  lightning, 
and  the  dapping  of  whose  wings  was  thunder.  On 
his  descent  to  the  ocean,  the  earth  instantly  rose, 
and  remained  on  the  surface  of  the  water.  From  this 
being,  also,  the  Athapasoans  traced  their  descent.1 
Yetl  by  name,  it  saved  their  ancestors  from  the 
flood,  and  succoured  them  by  bringing  them  fire 
from  heaven.  It  probably  sprang,  with  the  Mexi- 
can god  Quetzalooatl,  from  some  common  original 
form.  The  more  eastern  Athapascans  believe  their 
ancestors  to  have  sprung  from  a  dog,  probably  an 
eponymous  totemio  being. 

a.  Iroquolan  family  (Hurons,  Mohawks,  Oneidaa, 
etc.,  situated  from  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the  Roan- 
oake,  and  the  Cherokees  in  Eastern  Tennessee). — 
The  Iroquois  tribes  believe  in  a  similar  myth. 
Their  original  female  ancestress  fell  from  heaven. 
There  was  as  yet  no  land  to  receive  her,  but  pres- 
ently it '  suddenly  bubbled  up  nnder  her  feet,  and 
waxed  bigger,  so  that  ere  long  a  whole  country 
was  perceptible.' *  Some  Iroquois  tribes,  however, 
believed  that  amphibious  animals,  such  aa  the 
otter,  bearer,  and  musk-rat,  beholding  her  de- 
scent, hastened  to  dig  up  sufficient  earth  from 
beneath  the  waters  to  provide  her  with  an  island 
upon  which  she  might  dwell.*  Several  Iroquois 
tribes  regarded  a  mountain  near  the  falls  of  the 
Oswego  Rivet  in  New  York  State  as  the  locality 
in  which  their  forefathers  originated,  and  the  name 
of  the  Oneida  ('People  of  the  stone')  is  held  to 
indicate  some  such  relationship. 

3.  Algonquian  family  (formerly  distributed  over 
an  area  embracing  a  space  from  Newfoundland  to 
the  Rockies,  and  from  Churchill  River  on  the  north 
to  Pamlico  Sound  on  the  south). — The  words  for 
1  light '  and  '  rabbit '  in  the  Algonquian  tongue  are 
the  same,  so  that  Manibosho  or  Michabo,  the  sun, 
their  creative  agency,  has  become  confounded  by 
them  with  the  rabbit.  The  myth  relates  that  one 
day,  when  Michabo  was  hunting,  the  wolves  whioh 
he  used  as  dogs  entered  a  great  lake,  and  disappeared 
there.  He  entered  the  lake  to  rescue  them,  but  it 
rose  suddenly,  overflowed  its  banks,  covered  the 
land,  and  destroyed  the  world.  Michabo  dispatched 
the  raven  to  find  a  piece  of  earth  wherewith  to  re- 
build the  land  s  but,  after  having  searched  every- 
where, the  bird  returned,  and  reported  that  it  could 
find  none.  Then  he  ordered  tne  otter  to  dive  for 
some,  but  the  animal  returned  to  the  surface  with- 
out any.  At  last  he  sent  down  the  musk-rat,  which 
returned  with  a  small  piece,  which  sufficed  for 
Michabo  to  re-create  the  solid  earth  as  it  now 
stands.  The  trees  having  lost  their  branches,  he 
shot  arrows  at  their  bare  trunks,  and  the  arrows 
became  new  limbs.  He  then  avenged  himself  upon 
the  malevolent  beings  who  had  caused  the  flood, 
and  married  the  musk-rat,  by  whose  aid  he  peopled 
the  world. 

d.  Muskhogean  family  (Creeks,  Choctaws, 
Chickasaws,  Seminoles,  etc.,  confined  chiefly  to 
the  Gulf  States  east  of  the  Mississippi).-*-  The 
Muskhogees  believe  that  before  the  Creation  a 
great  body  of  water  alone  was  visible.  Over  the 
dreary  waste  two  pigeons  flew  to  and  fro,  and  at 
last  espied  a  blade  of  grass  rising  above.the  surface. 
Dry  land  gradually  followed,  and  the  mainland  and 
islands  took  their  present  shapes.  In  the  centre  of 
the  hill  Nunne  Chaha  was  the  house  of  Esaugetuh 
Emissee,  the  '  Master  of  Breath,'  who  moulded  the 
first  man  from  the  clay  which  surrounded  his  abode. 
The  waters  still  covered  the  earth,  so  that  he  was 
compelled  to  build  a  great  wall  to  dry  the  mud- 
fashioned  men  upon.  When  the  soft  mud  had  hard- 
ened into  flesh  and  bone,  he  directed  the  waters  to 

1  Mackenzie,  Hist,  of  the  Fur  Trade,  1801,  p.  83 ;  Kichudgoo, 
Arctic  Jizprdition  1361,  p.  239. 

2  Soc  Bint.  0/  New  Yuri,  c  1660,  1v.  130. 

>  Rtlocim  it  la  Nouvtlle  Prance,  1  ,.46,  p.  VOL 


their  present  places,  and  gave  the  dry  land  to  the 
men  whom  he  had  made.  Here  we  cannot  doubt 
that  the  appearance  of  the  two  pigeons  signifies 
the  brooding  of  the  creative  spirit  upon  the  waste 
of  waters.  The  similarity  of  this  myth  to  the 
Creation  story  of  Genesis  is  most  remarkable. 

5.  Siouan  family  (Dakotas,  Winnebagoes,  Man- 
dans,  etc.,  dwelling  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi and  Missouri  valley). — The  Mandan  branch 
of  the  Sioux  possess  a  very  complete  creation-myth, 
which  bears  a  strong  resemblance  to  those  of  the 
Karaya  Indians  of  the  Amazon  and  the  Warrau 
Indians  of  Guiana.  They  affirm  that  the  entire 
nation  resided  in  an  underground  village  near  a 
great  subterranean  lake.  The  roots  of  a  grape- 
vine penetrated  to  their  habitation,  and  some  of 
the  more  adventurous  of  them  climbed  up  the  vine, 
and  were  rewarded  with  a  sight  of  the  earth,  which 
they  coveted  because  of  its  richness  in  fruits  and 
the  plentifulness  of  buffalo  meat.  The  pioneers 
returned  laden  with  grapes,  the  taste  of  which  so 
enchanted  the  people  that  they  resolved  to  forsake 
their  subterranean  dwelling  for  the  delights  of  the 
upper  world.  Men,  women,  and  children  clam- 
bered up  the  vine  ;  but,  when  about  half  the  nation 
had  ascended,  a  corpulent  woman  who  was  climb- 
ing up  broke  the  vine  with  her  weight,  and  by  her 
fall  filled  up  the  gap  which  led  to  the  upper  world. 
At  death,  the  Mandans  expect  to  rejoin  their  fore- 
fathers in  their  original  seat,  the  good  reaching 
the  anoient  village  by  way  of  the  lake,  which  the 
burden  of  the  sins  of  the  wicked  will  not  allow 
them  to  cross.  The  cognate  Minnetarees  had  a 
tradition  that  their  original  progenitor  emerged 
from  the  waters  of  a  lake,  bearing  in  his  hand  an 
ear  of  maize — atypical  example  of  the  culture-hero 
myth.  As  regards  the  actual  creation  of  the  earth, 
the  Mandans  had  a  vague  tradition,  resembling 
that  of  the  Muskhogees,  concerning  the  brooding 
of  pigeons  upon  the  primeval  waste  of  waters. 

0.  Californian  sub-families. — California  was,  and 
is  now,  sparsely  peopled  by  a  number  of  Indian 
tribes  belonging  to  as  many  as  twenty-one  distinct 
linguistic  families.  The  mythologies  of  these  tribes 
were,  however,  very  similar  to  one  another,  and 
were  characterized  by  unusually  well-developed 
and  consistent  creation-myths,  which  are  perhaps 
best  typified  by  that  of  the  Maidu,  formerly  dwell- 
ing in  the  Sacramento  Valley  and  the  adjacent 
Sierra  Nevada.  Their  mythic  era  appears  to  fall 
into  a  number  of  periods,  each  of  which  is  dealt 
with  by  a  group  of  myths.  It  is  in  the  first  of  these 
that  their  creation -myth  makes  its  appearance,  with 
the  coming  of  Kodoyanpe  the  Creator,  and  Coyote. 
They  discovered  the  world,  and  proceeded  to  place 
it  in  fitting  order  for  its  first  inhabitants.  These 
they  made  from  small  wooden  images,  but,  as 
they  engaged  in  violent  conflict,  they  were  meta- 
morphosed into  animals.  Kodoyanpe  conceived  an 
antipathy  to  Coyote,  whose  evil  desires  clashed  with 
his  beneficent  wishes,  and  resolved  upon  his  destruc- 
tion. In  this  he  was  assisted  by  a  being  known  as 
'  the  Conqueror,'  who  destroyed  many  monsters  and 
evil  beings  which  later  would  have  endangered  the 
life  of  men  who  were  yet  unborn.  In  the  last  scene 
of  the  cosmic  drama  Kodoyanpe  is  defeated  by 
Coyote,  and  takes  his  flight  eastwards — which 
shows,  at  least,  that  he  is  not  a  sun-god.  The 
Indians  then  spring  from  the  places  where  the 
small  woo«len  figures  of  the  '  first  people '  had  been 
buried.  Unlike  most  American  creation-myths, 
this  is  a  veritable  creative  act,  not  a  mere  re-con- 
struction of  the  universe.  In  the  beginning  was 
only  the  great  primeval  waste  of  waters  upon  which 
Kodoyanpe  and  Coyote  dropped  in  a  canoe.  Of 
the  origiu  of  these  supernatural  beings  the  Maidu 
were  ignorant ;  but  a  neighbouring  people,  the 
Achomawi,  pushed  their  cosmogonic  legend  much 


Si 


128 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Babylonian) 


further  back.  According  to  tliem,  at  first  there 
existed  only  the  shoreless  sea  and  the  clear  sky. 
A  small  cloud  appeared  thereupon,  which  gradually 
increased  in  size,  and  then  condensed  until  it  be- 
came the  silver-grey  fox,  the  Creator.  Then  arose 
a  fog,  which,  condensing,  became  Coyote.  The 
Ashochimi  of  California  told  of  the  drowning  of 
the  world  so  that  no  man  escaped.  But,  when  the 
waters  retired,  the  Coyote  went  forth  and  planted 
the  feathers  of  various  birds,  which  grew  into  the 
various  tribes  of  men.1 

7.  Chinookan  family  (a  distinct  family,  formerly 
dwelling  on  Columbia  River). — The  creation-myth 
of  the  Chinooks  is  practically  the  same  as  that  of 
the  Maidu,  and  relates  how  Italapas,  the  Coyote, 
encountering  a  heavy  surf  at  a  place  called  Got'at, 
was  afraid  that  he  might  be  drifted  away,  and 
threw  sand  upon  the  surf,  saying,  '  This  shall  be  a 
prairie,  and  no  surf.  The  future  generations  shall 
walk  on  that  prairie.'  The  Chinookan  mythology 
is  rich  in  myths  of  the  other  world,  and  in  cosmo- 
gonic  sun-,  moon-,  and  star-myths,  which  are  dealt 
with  at  length  in  art.  CHINOOKS. 

8.  Caddoan  family  (Pawnees,  Kichai,  Wichita, 
etc.,  dwelling  in  Nebraska  and  Arkansas). — The 
Caddo  believed  that  they  came  originally  from  the 
under  world,  and  related  that  the  first  individual 
to  emerge  into  the  light  of  day  was  an  old  man, 
carrying  in  one  hand  fire  and  a  pipe,  and  in  the 
other  a  drum.  He  was  followed  by  his  wife  with 
corn  and  pumpkin-seed.  They  spoke  of  a  creator, 
Atius  Tirawa,  intangible  and  omnipotent,  whose 
house  was  the  heavens,  and  whose  messengers  were 
the  eagle  and  the  buzzard.  He  it  was  who  called 
sun,  moon,  and  stars  into  being,  and  ordered  them 
their  various  circuits.3 

9.  Shoshonean  family  (Hopi  or  Moqui,  Coman- 
ches,  etc.,  inhabiting  a  tract  from  Oregon  to  Texas, 
and  from  Nevada  to  Colorado). — The  Shoshonean 
stock  had  originally  no  conception  of  a  Great  Spirit. 
They  speak  of  the  earth  as  always  having  existed, 
and  of  the  human  race  as  having  emerged  through 
an  opening  in  the  earth  called  theSipapu,  which  was 
identified  with  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Colorado. 
The  dead  they  suppose  to  return  to  the  under  world. 
The  Sky-father  and  Earth-mother  they  hold  as  re- 
sponsible for  the  upkeep  of  the  universe. 

10.  Pueblo  Indians  of  New  Mexico  (Zufiis,  etc). 
— The  Zunis  believe  that  the  Creator — Awonawi- 
lona,  Maker  and  Container  of  all — existed  before 
the  beginning  of  time,  in  the  darkness  which  knew 
no  beginning.*  He  then  conceived  within  himself, 
and,  projecting  his  creative  thoughts  into  the  void 
of  night,  evolved  fogs  potent  with  growth.  He 
next  took  upon  himself  the  form  of  the  Sun,  the 
father  of  men,  who  thus  came  into  being,  and  by 
whose  light  and  brightness  the  cloud-mists  resolved 
themselves  into  water,  gradually  evolving  into  the 
primeval  sea.  Then  from  his  flesh,  'outdrawn 
from  the  surface  of  his  person,'  he  made  the  seed 
of  two  worlds,  and  fecundated  the  sea  therewith. 
By  the  heat  of  his  rays  green  scums  formed,  which 
became  the  '  Fourfold  containing  Mother-earth,' 
and  the  '  AH  -  covering  Father -sky.'  Terrestrial 
life  sprang  from  the  embraces  of  these,  and  they 
separated.  These  twain  were  described  as  '  trans- 
mutable  at  thought,  manifesting  themselves  in  any 
form  at  will,  as  dancers  may  by  mask-making' 
(Cushing,  op.  .cit.  379  f. ).  Then,  from  the  lowest 
of  the  four  wombs  of  the  world,  the  seed  of  men 
and  living  things  took  form  and  grew,  until  the 
lowest  cave  or  womb  grew  over-full  of  living  and 
half-finished  creatures,  men  among  them,  and  the 
press   became  so   great    that   Poshaiyankya,   the 

1  Stephen  Powers,  Indian  Tribes  of  California,  Washing-ton 
1877,  p.  200. 
'  Q.  B.  Grinnell,  in  JAPL,  1893,  p.  113. 
>  F.  H.  Gushing,  '  Zuni  Creation  Myths,'  in  IS  RBBW,  1896. 


wisest  and  foremost  of  men,  arising  from  the 
nethermost  sea,  obtained  egress  from  the  first 
world-cave  through  such  a  dark  and  narrow  path- 
way that  movement  was  difficult.  Alone  did 
Poshaiyankya  come  from  one  cave  to  another  into 
this  world,  then  island-like,  lying  amidst  the 
world-waters,  vast,  wet,  and  unstable.  He  sought 
and  found  the  Sun-father,  and  entreated  him  to  de- 
liver the  men  and  the  creatures  from  that  nether- 
most world.  In  another  variation  of  the  legend 
the  people  were  delivered  by  one  Janauluha,  a 
master  magician,  who,  bearing  a  staff  plumed 
and  covered  with  feathers,  guided  imprisoned 
humanity  upward  to  the  light.  He  then  created 
birds  of  shining  plumage,  the  raven  and  the 
macaw,  who  were  the  spirits  of  winter  and  sum- 
mer, and  the  totems  of  the  two  original  clans  of 
men. 

Litf.h  ATtiiE. — In  addition  to  the  works  cited  in  tile  article,  see 
A.  Bastian,  VorgeschichUiche  Schopfungslieder,  Berlin,  189S ; 
de  Charencey,  '  Le  Deluge  d'apres  lea  traditions  indiennss  de 
l'Amerique  du  i\ordy  in  Revtie  Americaine,  vol.  L 

Lewis  Spence. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Baby- 
lonian). —  The  cosmology  generally  accepted  in 
Babylonia  had  its  origin  at  Eridu,  the  primitive 
seaport  of  the  country,  on  the  shores  of  the  Persian 
Gulf.  Here  the  land  was  constantly  growing 
through  the  deposition  of  silt,  and  the  belief  con- 
sequently arose  that  the  earth  had  originated  in 
the  same  way.  The  water  of  'the  great  deep,' 
accordingly,  came  to  be  regarded  as  the  primordial 
element  out  of  which  the  universe  was  generated. 
The  '  Deep '  was  identified  with  the  Persian  Gulf, 
which  was  conceived  as  encircling  the  earth,  and 
as  such  was  called  the  NQ.ru  Marratu,  the  '  Bitter ' 
or  '  Salt  River.'  On  its  inner  bank  in  the  extreme 
north  was  '  the  Mountain  of  the  World,'  on  which 
the  sky  rested  and  the  gods  had  their  seat.  An 
early  Babylonian  map  of  the  world  (Cuneiform 
Texts,  xxii.  48)  places  at  certain  distances  from 
one  another  on  the  outer  bank  a  number  of  nagS,  or 
'  coastlands,'  which,  however,  seem  to  owe  their 
origin  to  the  discovery  of  the  existence  of  countries 
beyond  the  region  of  the  Euphrates  and  Tigris, 
made  subsequently  to  the  period  when  the  primi- 
tive system  of  cosmology  first  became  an  article  of 
belief.  In  one  of  the  islands  off  the  mouths  of  the 
Euphrates  and  Tigris  the  Babylonian  Paradise  waa 
located,  where  the  Chaldean  Noah  and  other  ancient 
heroes  were  supposed  to  dwell. 

Aphi,  '  the  Deep,'  belonged  to  the  orderly  frame- 
work of  Nature  ;  the  waters  of  the  annual  inunda- 
tion which  irrigated  the  Babylonian  plain  poured 
into  it,  and  the  trading  vessels  which  brought 
wealth  and  culture  to  Eridu  passed  over  its  bosom. 
Hence  it  became  the  home  of  Ea,  the  culture-god 
of  Eridu ;  his  palace  was  within  it,  and  his  throne, 
Du-azagga,  '  the  holy  mound,'  was  identified  with 
an  island  which  had  been  formed  on  the  eastern 
side  of  the  Gulf.  But  there  was  another  aspect 
under  which  the  watery  element  could  be  regarded  ; 
the  thunderstorm  and  the  whirlwind  rose  out  of  the 
Gulf,  carrying  destruction  in  their  path,  and  the 
deep  itself  had  once  burst  its  bonds  and  destroyed 
mankind  with  a  deluge.  Under  this  destructive 
and  anarchic  aspect  the  watery  element  was  known 
as  Tiavitu  or  Tiam&t  (Heb.  Tehdm),  which  waa 
mythologically  pictured  as  a  dragon,  the  enemy 
of  the  gods  of  light  and  law.  TrV  hile  Apsu,  the 
Deep,  had  been  the  origin  of  all  things  in  the 
present  orderly  univer.se,  Tiamat  was  a  yet  older 
principle,  whose  anarchic  waters  still  existed  be- 
yond the  limits  of  the  universe,  in  the  waters  above 
the  firmament  and  the  waters  below  the  earth  and 
sea,  which  were  always  ready  to  break  forth  once 
more  as  soon  as  the  barriers  of  law  that  confined 
them  were  removed.      The  conception  of  Tiamat 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Buddhist) 


129 


probably  emanated  from  Nippur  in  northern 
Babylonia,  and  was  harmonized  with  difficulty 
with  the  cosmology  of  Eridu  (Sayce,  Religions  of 
Ancient  Egypt  and  Babylonia,  pp.  376,  377). 

The  cosmological  beliefs  of  Eridu  are  embodied 
In  a  bilingual  (Sumerian  and  Babylonian)  poem, 
discovered  by  Pinches  (JP.AS,  1891,  pp.  393-408), 
which,  however,  in  its  present  form  has  been  much 
modernized  by  the  introduction  of  lines  referring 
to  Babylon  and  the  other  chief  cities  of  later 
Babylonia,  and  the  substitution  of  Merodach,  the 
god  of  Babylon,  for  Ea,  the  god  of  Eridu.  The 
original  version  began  as  follows  : 

'  No  holy  house,  no  house  of  the  gods  in  a  holy  place  had  as 
yet  been  built. 

No  reed  had  frown,  no  tree  been  planted, 

No  bricks  been  made,  no  brick -mould  formed. 

No  house  been  built,  no  city  founded, 

No  city  built,  no  man  (adam)  made  to  stand  upright ; 

The  deep  was  uncreated,  Eridu  unbuilt, 

The  seat  of  its  holy  house,  the  house  of  the  gods,  unerected  : 

AH  the  earth  was  sea, 

While  within  the  sea  was  a  current '  (literally  '  watercourse,' 
frtfannu). 

Then  we  are  told  how 

•  [Ei]  tied  (reeds)  together  to  form  a  weir  in  the  water. 
He  made  dust  and  mixed  It  with  the  reeds  of  the  weir. 
That  the  gods  might  dwell  in  the  seat  of  their  well-being ; 
The  cattle  of  the  field  (Edinnu\  the  living  creatures  in  the 

field,  he  created ; 

The  Tigris  and  Euphrates  he  made  and  set  them  in  their 
place, 

Giving  them  good  names. 

Moss  and  seed-plant  of  the  marsh,  rush  and  reed  he  created, 

Be  created  the  green  herb  of  the  field, 

The  earth,  the  marsh,  the  jungle, 

The  cow  and  its  young,  the  calf,  the  sheep  and  Its  young, 
the  iamb  of  the  fold. 
Of  far  later  date  is  the  no-called  Epic  of  Oeation, 
which  is  really  a  hymn  in  honour  or  Merodach  and 
his  overthrow  of  Tiamat  and  the  powers  of  chaos. 
A*  this  involved  the  creation  of  the  existing  world, 
the  poem  is  prefaced  by  an  account  of  the  origin  of 
the  universe  as  it  was  conceived  in  the  schools. 
The  cosmology  is  frankly  materialistic,  abstract 
principles  taking  the  place  of  the  gods  who  are 
themselves  the  offspring  of  the  principles,  in 
flagrant  Contradiction  of  the  rest  of  the  Epic,  in 
which  the  god  Merodach  appears  as  the  creator. 
The  Semitic  idea  of  generation  is  invoked  in  order 
to  explain  the  creation,  which  thus  becomes  a  pro- 
cess of  evolution,  the  old  animistic  objects  of 
Sumerian  worship  being  introduced  to  form  the 
links  in  the  chain  of  development.  Water  remains 
the  primordial  element,  but  an  attempt  is  made  to 
reconcile  the  antagonism  between  the  two  concep- 
tions of  this  element,  according  as  it  is  regarded 
as  anarchic  or  as  under  the  dominion  of  law,  by 
making  Apsu  (the  Deep)  and  Tiamat  (the  watery 
chaos)  complementary  principles  whose  union  re- 
sulted in  starting  the  evolutionary  process.  The 
first  lines  of  the  Epic  run  thus : 

*  When  above  unnamed  was  the  heaven, 
(And)  earth  below  by  a  name  was  uncalled, 

Apsu  (the  deep)  in  the  beginning  (ristu)  being  their  begetter, 
(And)  the  flood  (Mummu)  of  Tiamat  the  mother  of  them  all, 
Their  waters  were  embosomed  together  (In  one  place), 
Bat  no  reed  had  been  harvested;  no  marsh-plant  seen  ; 
At  that  time  the  gods  had  not  appeared,  any  one  (of  them) 
By  no  name  were  they  called,  no  destiny  [was  fixed]. 
Then  were  the  gods  created  in  the  midst  of  [heaven7], 
Lakhmu  and  Lakhamu  appeared  [the  first]. 
The  ages  multiplied,  they  .  ,  . 
Ansar  and  Kisar  (the  Upper  and  Lower  Firmament*)  were 

created  .  .  . 
Long  were  the  days,  forth  came  .  .  . 
Arm  th*  [Bel  and  Ea].' 

The  cosmogony  of  the  Epic  is  reproduced  by 
Damascius,  a  contemporary  of  Justinian  (de  Prim. 
Princip.  125  [p.  384,  ed.  Kopp,  1826]). 

'The  Babylonians,'  he  says,  'like  the  rest  of  the  barbarians, 
pass  over  in  silence  the  one  principle  of  the  universe  and  con- 
stitute two,  Tavthe  (Tiamat)  and  Apasfln  (Apsu),  making 
Apason  the  husband  of  Tavthe,  and  denominating  her  "  the 
mother  of  the  gods."  And  from  these  proceeds  an  only-begotten 
eon  Moyrals,  which,  I  conceive,  is  no  other  than  the  intelligible 
world  (voip-ta  K6ofun)  proceeding  from  the  two  principles.  From 
VOL.  IV.— -9 


them  also  another  progeny  Is  derived,  Lakhe  and  Lakhos 
(corrupted  In  the  MSS  into  Dakhe,  Dakhos) ;  and  again  a  third, 
Kissare  and  Assoros  ;  from  which  last  three  others  proceed, 
Anoa  and  Illillos  (corrupted  into  Illinos)  and  Aob.  And  of  Aos 
and  Davke  (Damkina)  is  born  a  son  called  Belos  (Bel-Merodach), 
who,  they  say,  Is  the  fabricator  of  the  world.' 

Here  Mummu,  '  the  flood '  or  chaos,  who  is 
identified  with  Tiamat  in  the  cuneiform  text, 
becomeB  the  son  of  Tiamat  and  Apsu,  and  is 
accordingly  explained  by  Damascius  as  the  ideal 
world — that  is  to  say,  the  world  as  it  exists  in  the 
mind  before  it  is  realized  externally.  Such  an 
explanation,  however,  is  excluded  by  the  Epic, 
where  Mummu  would  rather  correspond  with  the 
'  darkness '  which  in  Gn  la  is  said  to  have  been 
■  upon  the  face  of  the  deep.' 

According  to  the  Babylonian  legend,  the  appear- 
ance of  the  gods  of  light  and  order  was  followed  by 
the  revolt  of  Tiamat  (or,  as  it  would  seem,  accord- 
ing to  another  version,  of  Apsu).  But  the  powers 
of  darkness  and  chaos  were  overthrown  by  Bel- 
Merodach,  who  cut  Tiamat  in  two,  and  stretched 
the  sky  across  one  of  the  two  halves,  thus  prevent- 
ing the  waters  which  were  in  her  veins  from  break- 
ing forth  again,  while  the  other  half  was  similarly 
confined  under  the  earth  and  sea,  the  springs  of 
which  it  feeds.  The  conquest  of  Tiamat  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  creation  or  man,  who  was  brought 
into  existence  in  order  to  build  temples  and  altars 
and  offer  sacrifices  and  prayers  to  the  gods.  The 
world,  however,  had  to  be  prepared  for  the  recep- 
tion of  man  by  fixing  the  movements  of  the  celestial 
luminaries,  and  so  regulating  the  sacred  calendar, 
and  then  by  creating  plants  and  animals  which 
could  be  offered  or  used  in  the  service  of  the  temple. 
The  heavenly  bodies  had  existed  before  the  war 
with  Tiamat,  since  the  deities  with  whom  they 
were  identified  had  been  the  offspring  of  the  trinity 
or  triad  of  Anu,  En-lil,  and  Ea.  Indeed,  Bel- 
Merodach  himself  was  originally  a  Sun-god. 

In  the  Epic,  allusion  is  made  to  another  system 
of  cosmology,  which  ascribed  the  universe  to  the 
creative  word.  Merodach  is  described  as  destroy- 
ing and  creating  by  his  word  alone,  and  so  proving 
his  fitness  to  destroy  the  forces  of  anarchy  and 
create  a  world  that  should  be  governed  by  law. 

Another  system  of  cosmology  was  that  which 
emanated  from  Nippur  (now  Niffer)  in  northern 
Babylonia.  In  this  Tiamat,  the  dragon  of  the 
subterranean  waters  of  chaos,  was  the  elementary 
principle,  the  earth  having  risen  out  of  it  in  the 
form  of  a  mountain.  The  brood  of  chaos,  com- 
posite creatures  who  belonged  to  a  first  and  im- 
perfect creation,  continued  to  exist  in  the  dark 
underground,  which  was  also  the  dwelling-place 
of  the  ghosts  and  demons  of  night.  How  the 
world-mountain  was  believed  to  have  been  formed 
we  do  not  yet  know.  At  the  Syrian  Hierapolis 
(Membij)  the  waters  of  the  deluge  of  the  Babylonian 
Sisythes  were  believed  to  have  drained  off  into  a 
cavern  beneath  the  temple,  which  was  accordingly 
kept  securely  closed,  and  Simi,  the  daughter  of 
the  supreme  god  Hadad,  was  said  to  have  put  an 
end  to  the  attacks  of  a  demon  by  filling  the  pit  in 
which  the  monster  lived,  with  the  water  of  the 
sea  (Cureton  and  Kenan,  in  Pitra,  Spicilegium 
Solesmense,  ii.  p.  xliv). 

LrrBRATURB. — H.  Gunkel,  Schopfung  und  Chaos (1895) ;  A.  H . 
Sayce,  Lectures  on  the  Origin  and  Growth  of  Religion  as  illus- 
trated by  the  Religion  of  the  Ancient  Babylonians  (1877),  ch.  vi., 
and  Religions  of  Ancient  Egypt  and  Babylonia  (1902),  pt.  II.  ch. 
vi.  ;  L.  W.  King,  The  Seven  Tablets  of  Creation  (1002) ;  M. 
Jastrow,  Die  Religion Babyloniensund  Assyriens,  Giesaen,  1909 

A.  H.  Sayce. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Bud- 
dhist).— I.  Preliminary  notes. — 

(1)  In  the  earliest  times,  speculations  on  the  universe  were 
apparently  regarded  as  wrong.  We  may  recall  the  attitude  of 
the  Buddha  towards  (heretical)  doctrines  of  the  infinity  or  non- 
infinity  of  the  world  (see  Agnosticism  [Buddhist],  vol.  I.  p.  221), 
and  his  efforts  to  give  a  moral  or  psychological  meaning  to 


I 


130 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Buddhist) 


the  researches  of  natural  science  :  when  a  monk  wants  to  know 
where  the  material  elements  (earth,  water,  etc.)  stop  in  their 
extent,  the  Buddha  explains,  by  way  of  answer,  how  people  are 
delivered  from  desire  and  from  existence.  Obviously  that  is 
where  the  problem  lies ;  the  exterior  world,  in  fact,  exists  only 
as  long;  as  one  is  conscious  of  it  (Digha,  1.  216).1 

It  is  probable  that  a  large  number  of  Buddhists, 
imbuea  with  the  '  moralism '  of  their  master, 
avoided  frivolous  curiosities, —  '  non-BuddhiBt* 
*  mundane '  disciplines  (lokdyata),2  —  and  were 
content  with  denying,  on  the  one  hand,  a  supreme 
personal  creating  power  (a  lord,  I&vara),  against 
the  theists,  the  Brahmans ;  and,  on  the  other,  the 
innate  independent  power  of  things  (svabhdva), 
against  the  svabhdvavadins,  the  materialists.  The 
formula,  *  The  diversity  of  the  world  comes  from 
the  act,' 8  contains  for  a  well-informed  Buddhist 
the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  the  necessary  cosmologies! 
information. 

But,  long  before  the  time  when  the  Mahftyanist 
books  demanded  that  the  learned  Buddhist,  the 
preaching  Bodhisattva,  must  have  a  knowledge  of 
lay  sciences,4  a  Buddhist  cosmology  was  formed, 
constituting  a  very  well  developed  collection  of 
various  opinions  and  system atizations ;  and,  in 
fact,  accurate  information  on  cosmological  ques- 
tions seems  to  have  been  as  ancient  as  the  state- 
ments defending  or  ridiculing  the  speculations  of 
this  kind  which  we  recalled  above. 

The  aim  of  the  present  article  jb  to  give  an  outline  of  Buddhist 
cosmology,  without  entering  into  details  (except  on  a  few  points 
which  have  not  yet  been  published,  or  are  obscure),  and  with- 


out spending  time  over  variants.  It  should  prove  interesting, 
and  profitable  for  the  history  of  the  sects,  to  study  the  history 
of    the    various    theories,    to    distinguish    the    most    ancient 


elements  and  aspects  of  them,  and  to  note  the  succession  of 
borrowings,  inventions,  and  arrangements.  Such  a  study, 
however,  is  possible  for  only  a  limited  number  of  the  theories; 
we  shall  endeavour  to  pursue  it  wherever  we  can  with  prudence. 

(2)  Meaning  of  the  word. — *  Cosmology  *  seems  to 
be  the  most  accurate  translation  of  lokaprajrlapti, 
'world-teaching,'  a  term  denoting  that  part  of 
the  Sarvastivadin  Abkidharma  ('summaries  and 
systematization  of  matters  of  doctrine '  [see 
Abhidhamma,  vol.  i.  p.  19])  which  deals  with 
cosmological  problems — the  origin,  arrangement, 
and  destruction  of  the  universe.6 

But  the  lokaprajnapti  deals  also  with  questions 
that  we  do  not  include  as  cosmological :  the 
Buddhists,  in  fact  (at  least  the  Sarvastivadins), 
distinguish  two  '  worlds '  (loka) — the  bhajanaloka, 
'receptacle-world,'8  the  universe  as  the  abode  of 
beings  (sattva),  and  the  sattvaloka,  '  world  of 
beings,'  i.e.  the  mass  of  living  beings.  There  are, 
accordingly,  two  lokaprajnapti,  the  first  a  '  cosmo- 
logy,' the  second  a  'zoology'  (sattva  — ^ov)^ 

There  are,  naturally,  close  connexions  between  theBe  two 
'  worlds,'  for  the  first  is  made  for  the  second,  being  created  and 
arranged  to  form  a  shelter  for  it.  The  whole  of  demonology, 
anthropology,  and  theology  {i.e.  pantheology)  is  connected  with 
cosmology.  Although  it  is  difficult  to  separate  the  two,  we 
shall  give  special  prominence  to  the  facts  considered  by  our 
Bources  as  relating  to  the  '  receptacle-world  '  (bh&janaloka) ;  e.g. , 
the  abodes  of  the  gods,  the  length  of  their  lives,  the  dimensions 

1  Rhys  Davids,  Dialogues  of  the  Buddha,  London,  1899,  i.  280  ; 
cf.  the  *  foolish  questions '  in  Milinda,  p.  295  (SBE  xxxvi.  153). 

2  Rhys  Davids,  op.  tit.  i.  166,  and  Bendall's  review  in 
Athenceum,  June  30th,  1900;  also  Siksd3amuchchaya,  p.  192,  7. 

3  Earmajaih  lokavaichitryam  (Abhidharmakoia,  iv.  st.  1). 
On  karma  as  the  cause  of  the  universe,  see  art.  Karma. 

4  e.g.  Bodhisattvabhumi,  ch.  viii. 

0  This  last  part,  the  destruction  of  the  universe,  has  been 
treated  in  the  art.  Aoes  of  thb  World  (BuddhiBt),  vol.  i.  p.  189. 
The  Abhidhamia  of  the  Pali  language  does  not  seem  to  include 
any  lokapailflatti. 

0  This  expression  does  not  appear  to  exist  in  Pali,  where  we 
find  milkhdraloka,  'material  world'  (including  trees,  etc.) (see 
Childers,  Diet,  of  the  Pali  Language,  London,  1875,  p.  453),  and 
okdsaloka  (  =  avakd$aloka),  'room-world.'  Spence  Hardy  (see 
Childers,  p.  299)  translates  'the  world  of  space'  'the  far- 
extended  vacuum*  (see  Viauddhimagga,  vii.  [JPTS,  1891-3,  p. 
89V).  **  F 

1  The  pudgala  paiifiatti,  which  constitutes  one  of  the  sections 
of  the  Pali  Abkidharma  (JPTS,  1883),  ia  the  enumeration  and 
definition  of  the  various  categories  of  'individuals,'  'noble 
individuals'  (aryapudgalas),  etc.,  from  the  moral  standpoint, 
particularly  from  the  point  of  view  of  their  progress  in  the 
7 way'  otnirvdxuL(JPTS,  1905,  p.  133). 


of  their  bodies,  and  their  '  non-embryogeny  '  are  'cosmological,' 
while  their  psychology  and  the  right  they  possess  or  do  not 
possess  to  the  exercise  of  virtue  are  'zoological '  (wttoalaukdca) 
The  beings,  likewise,  in  one  and  the  tame  class,  inhabiting  the 
same  part  of  the  '  receptacle- world,'  may  differ  in  their  method 
of  generation  ;  men,  serpent-dragons,  and  garuqlas  (mythic 
birds)  are  not  always  born  from  the  womb  or  the  egg  ;  the 
c/takravartin  kings  (see  art.  Ohajlkavartim,  vol.  hi.  p.  3B6f.) 
resemble  gods  far  more  than  men,  etc. — none  of  this  is  cosmo- 
logical. 

IN  evert heless,  in  order  to  understand  the  cosmo- 
logical system,  we  must  know  the  main  lines  of 
the  distribution  of  beings  {sattvaloka).  There  are 
(1) '  immaterial '  beings,  who  form  the  '  immaterial ' 
category  (dhdtu),  the  drupya ;  they  are  nowhere ; 
they  have  no  place  in  the  '  receptacle- world '  (but 
see  below,  §  8) ;  (2)  beings  called  '  material '  (rupin),1 
but  of  a  subtle  material ;  they  inhabit  the  higher 
part  of  the  'receptacle-world,  i.e.  the  rupadhdtu, 
or  'material  category  or  region,' according  as  we 
regard  the  beings  or  their  habitation  (see  §  7) ;  and 
(3)  material  beings,  of  grosser  substance  the  lower 
they  are  in  the  scale,  living  in  a  world  of  gross 
material,  concupiscent  (kdm&vachara,  kamahhuj, 
kdmaprabhdvita),  and  subject  to  sensual  and 
especially  sexual  desire  (men  alone  are  capable  of 
continence,  samvara,  in  this  respect) ;  these  beings 
occupy  the  lower  part  of  the  '  receptacle- world,' 
the  Icdmadhdtu,  or  'concupiscence  category  or 
region. ' a 

On  the  other  hand,  beings  are  divided  into  five 
categories,  two  good  and  three  bad,  called  gati, 
*  destinies,1 '  kinds  of  existence,'  themselves  further 
subdivided  into  numerous  aub-yatis  :  (1)  the  gods 
{devas)  of  three  classes,  according  as  they  con- 
stitute the  first  dhdtu  {four  kinds),  or  inhabit  the 
second  dhdtu  (sixteen  kinds  and  sixteen  'places/ 
dvdsa),  or  inhabit  the  third  dhdtu,  the  kdvtadh&tu 
(six  kinds  and  six  'places')  (see  below,  §  6);  (2) 
men,  who  are  allotted  four  places,  the  four  con- 
tinents (see  below,  §  a)  ;  (3)  ghosts  (pretax),  one 
place  [see  below,  §  5  (hi.)] ;  (4)  animals,  one  place 
[see  below,  §  5  (ii. )];  and  (5)  the  damned,  eight 
places  :  eight  hells  [see  below,  §  5  (i.)].  According 
to  this  division,  there  would  be  twenty  places  in 
the  kdmadhdtu.  Indeed,  it  is  not  at  all  a  satis- 
factory division,8  for  there  are  numerous  categories 
of  beings  who  have  no  place  in  it,  notably  the 
asuras. 

Many  treatises,  some  of  them  of  ancient  date,  regard  the 
asuras  as  a  sixth  gati,  placing  them  between  men  and  ghosts 
(see  JPTS,  1889,  p.  105  [this  Is  the  opinion  of  the  AndhaJcas 
and  several  Uttardpathakas};  Bumouf,  Lotus,  1852,  p.  309 
[SBE  xxi.  7];  Pitaputrasamagama,  ad  Bodhicharydvatara,  ix. 
73;  JPTS,  1834,  p.  158,  etc.).  But  the  authorities  on  Abhi- 
dhar)aa*(Katkdvatthu,vi\l.l;  the  Sarvastivadin  Saihgitiparydya 
[in  JPTS,  1905,  p.  102];  Cnandrakirti's  Panchaskandhapra- 
karana)^  hold  that  the  asuras  are  not  a  gati.  Some  of  them 
Lave  the  same  colour,  pleasures,  and  length  of  life  as  the  gods 
or  the  ghosts,  and  intermarry  with  them.  8  Nevertheless^  the 
astiras  have  a  well-defined  place  or  places  (see  below,  §  5  (iv-))- 

As  regards  the  numerous  demi-gods,  good  and  bad  genii, 
vampires  (rdksasas),  dragons  (ndgas),  divine  birds  (garudas), 
and  celestial  musicians  (gandharvas,  cf.  if ahdvyutpatti,  §  166X 
some  of  them  have  a  definite  place  in  hell  (demons  of  torture), 
at  the  foot  of  Meru,  or  near  the  deities  whose  followers  or 
commensals  they  are  (see  below,  g  5  ad  fin.) ;  others  have  the 
position  rather  of  magician -ghosts.  Popular  mythology  had 
shrewd  theories  concerning  them,  but  they  do  not  appear  to 
have  much  importance  in  *  cosmology '  (lokaprajilapti). 

(3)  Sources. — The  most  systematic  work  on 
Buddhist  cosmology   is    undoubtedly   the    second 

1  Rupa  is  usually  translated  'form,'  arupa,  'formless,'  and 
drupya,  'formlessness.'  But,  although  'matter*  is  far  from 
being  to  us  what  rtipa  is  to  the  Buddhists,  the  present  writer 
prefers  the  translation  'matter'  (see  O.  A.  F.  Rhvs  Davids, 
Buddhist  Psychology,  London,  1900,  p.  xliii ;  JPTS,  1884,  p. 
27  f.  ;  M ahdvyutpatti,  §  101,  etc). 

2  Generally  translated  'desire-sphere,'  but  'desire*  is  in- 
accurate. There  is  desire,  attachment  (rdga),  in  the  *  region  of 
matter,'  but  only  'attachment  to  life'  (bhavardga) ;  in  the 
'region  of  concupiscence' there  is  also 'attachment  to  sensual 
pleasures ' (kdmardga),  'concupiscence.' 

8  Cf.  al-Biruni  on  '  the  different  classes  of  created  beings  and 
their  names,'  India,  tr.  Sachau  (1910),  ch.  viii. 

*  Buddhaghosa  refers  to  Majjhima,  i.  73 ;  see  Digha,  xxxiii. ; 
Avaddna4ataka,  xli.  ;  Madhyamakavrtti,  p.  269,  9  and  note. 

6  Tanjur,  Mdo,  xxiv. 

8  See  Eathdvatthu,  loc.  tit. ;  cf.  JPTS,  1884,  p.  168. 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Buddhist) 


131 


treatise  of  the  Abkidharma  (Abhidharmas'dstra)  of 
the  Sarvastivadtn  school,  entitled  PrajnaptUdstra$ 
the  first  section  of  which  is  the  Lokaprajiiapti 
(Tanjur,  Mdo,  lxii.  ;  see  Takakusu,  JPTS,  1905, 
pp.  77,  117,  142).1  On  this  section  is  based  the 
Abhidharmako&n  of  Vasubandhu3  (ch.  iii.  st.  1-44 
sattvalokciy  45-102  bhajanaloka),  known  particularly 
for  the  commentary  of  Yasomitra,  Abhidharma- 
kofavydkhyd.1 

A  Tibetan  work  of  the  end  of  the  18th  cent., 
Dpagbsam-ljon-bzah  ( =  Kalpadruma),  ed.  by  Sarad 
Chandra,  Calcutta,  1908,  refers  to  the  same  Abhi- 
dharniahoia,  which  is  quoted  by  Georgi,  Alphabetum 
Tibetartum  (Rome,  1762),  p.  470,  and  used,  along 
with  other  Sarvastivadin  sources  and  the  Chinese 
literature  of  the  two  vehicles,  by  S.  Heal,  Catena 
of  Buddhist  Scriptures  (London,  1871),  p.  15  f.,  the 
most  complete  work  that  we  have  on  the  subject 
as  vet. 

The  ancient  sources  (Pali  and  Skr.  '  Little 
Vehicle'),  which  are  the  most  interesting  of  all, 
are  Bomewhat  scanty  and  scattered  ;  they  will  be 
mentioned  ad  locum. 

The  Pali  commentaries  have  had  little  attention 
from  this  point  of  view.  Probably  most  of  the 
information  they  contain  has  passed  into  the  works 
of  Spence  Hardy,  Manual  of  Budhism  (London, 
1860),  and  Legends  and  Theories  of  the  Buddhists 
(London,  1866).* 

2.  Foundation  of  the  universe :  the  *  great 
elements.' — (a)  An  important  cosmogonical  feature 
can  be  traced  in  the  earliest  Buddhist_texts,  and 
is  evidently  pre-Buddhistic.  When  Ananda  in- 
quires as  to  the  causes  of  earthquakes,  Buddha 
answers  as  follows :  ■  This  great  earth,  Ananda,  is 
established  on  water,  the  water  on  wind,  and  the 
wind  rests  upon  space.  And  at  such  a  time, 
Ananda,  as  the  mighty  winds  blow,  the  waters  are 
shaken  by  the  mighty  winds  as  they  blow,  and  by 
the  moving  water  the  ear„th  is  shaken.'1  Another 
t&tra  relates  the  questions  of  the  Brah  man 
Kasyapa:  'On  what  rests  the  earth?' — 'On  the 
circle  of  water.'  *  And  the  circle  of  water? ' — ■  On 
the  wind.'  'And  the  wind?' — 'On  the  ether.' 
'And  the  ether?' — *You  go  too  far,  O  Brahman. 
The  ether  does  not  rest  on  anything ;  it  has  no 
rapport'8  (see  below,  §  9). 

1  By  the  kindness  of  Dr.  Cordier,  the  present  writer  has  been 
enabled  to  use  extracts  from  this  work,  for  the  dvipas  in 
particular  (see  below,  |  4).  Prof.  Takakusu  seems  to  be 
mistaken  when  he  says  the  section  does  not  exist  In  Ohinese 
(see  p,  118  of  bis  art.). 

'  On  this  work  see  the  article  in  vol.  t.  p.  20 ;  Burnouf, 
Introduction  &  VhisL  du  bouddhisme  indien,  Paris,  1844,  pp. 
663-674  ff.  ;  and  the  article  of  Takakusu.  The  present  writer  is 
Indebted  to  Mr.  F.  W.  Thomas  for  a  copy  of  ch.  iii.  (Tibetan  tr.). 

■This  source  will  be  quoted  as  A.K.V.,  and  the  folio  in 
the  MS  of  the  'Societe  asiatique'  will  be  given;  sometimes 
reference  will  be  made  to  the  M3  of  Burnouf  (Bum.)  in  the 
'Bibliothcque  natlonale.' 

*  The  European  works  most  frequently  referred  to  in  this  art. 
are:  Warren,  Buddhism  in  Translations  (Cambridge,  Mass., 
1896);  Burnouf,  Lotus  de  la  bonne  loi  (Paris,  1862),  and 
Introduction  a  Vhist.  du  bouddhisme  indien  (Paris,  1844); 
Bemusat,  Melanges  post  humes  (Paris,  1848);  Georgi,  Alphabetum 
Tibetanum  (Rome,  1762)-;  Koppen,  Religion  des  Buddha 
(Berlin,  1857-69);  WaddelL  Buddhism  of  Tibet  (London,  1895); 
O.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids,  Buddhist  Psychology  (London.  1900). 
See  also  literature  at  art  Ages  op  the  World  (Buddhist). 

3  See  Digha,  ii.  107  (SBB  xi.  45),  and  cf.  Divydvaddna,  p.  204  ; 
also  AAguttara,  iv.  312  ;  Milinda,  p.  68  (SBE  xxxv.  106) ;  Beal, 
Catena,  p.  47.  The  authorities  of  Remusat,  Melanges  post- 
humes,  p.  79f.,  sometimes  add  a  circle  of  fire  between  water 
and  wind,  and  a  circle  of  diamond  (where  the  relics  of  the 
Buddhas  are  enclosed)  between  wind  and  ether. 

8  Quoted  in  A.E.  F".,  and  translated  by  Burnouf,  Introd.  p. 
448  (see  SBE  xxxv.  106);  cf.  Madhi/amakavftti,  p.  166,  n.  6; 
Sankara,  ad  Brahmasutras,  11.  ii.  4  ;  Ramanuja,  ad  n.  iii.  1.  For 
the  Vedic  origins  of  this  notion,  spoken  of  by  Burnouf,  cf. 
Brhaddranyakop.  iii.  6 ;  Aitareyabrdhmana,  xi.  6.  4  :  '  The  sky 
rests  on  the  air,  the  air  on  the  earth,  the  earth  on  the  waters, 
the  wateri  on  the  reality  (truth,  satya),  the  reality  on  the 
brahman,  the  brahman  on  the  tapas  (creative  fervour)'; 
Chhdnd'igya,  i.  9.  1 : '  It  ia  the  spare  whence  all  these  creatures 
proceed  and  into  which  thny  again  descend'  (see  Oltramare, 
The'osnphie  hrahmanique,  Paris,  1906,  i.  292  :  Deussen-Ueden, 
PkU.  o/the  Upanishads,  Edin.  1906,  p.  214ff.). 


(6)  The  Buddhists  admit  four  '  great  elements'  (mahdbhuta),* 
called  great  because  they  are  the  substance  of  all  material 
things  ;  they  are  earth,  water,  Are,  and  wind,  or,  as  Mrs.  Rhys 
Davids  expresses  it,  earth-element,  fluid-element,  flame-element, 
and  air-element  (for  their  specific  qualities  reference  may  be 
made  to  Dhammasangani,  §  962  [=*0.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids,  Bud. 
Psych,  p.  241],  and  to  Visuddhimagga,  xi.  [tr.  by  Warren, 
op.  cit.  p.  167],  where  their  functions  in  the  human  body 
are  especially  treated.  Cf.  also  Majjhima,  i.  185  and  iii.  240 
[quoted  in  A.K.V.,  Burn.  42a],  and  Siksdsamuchchaya,  p.  244, 
a  re-cast  of  Majjhima,  iii.  240).  The  'great  elements' constitute 
the  bhutarupa, '  element-matter,'  whence  is  derived  '  elementary 
matter,'  '  dependent  matter '  (bhautikam  rupam,  updddya 
rupam),  e.g.  the  sense-organs,  in  so  far  as  they  are  distinct 
from  '  the  eye  of  flesh,'  etc.  This  kind  of  matter  is  subtle  and 
refined,  in  contradistinction  to  the  elements  that  are  solid  and 
gross  (svJcsma,  pranita;  auddrika,  hina). 

The  common  Indian  belief  that  there  is  a  fifth  great  element, 
viz.  ether  (or  space,  dkd&a)?  is  accepted  by  the  Vaibhasikas, 
who  quote  the  sutra  mentioned  above  [a  (a)] ;  and  it  would  not 
be  difficult  to  find  documentary  or  logical  arguments  in  their 
favour.  [Ahdia  ii  reckoned  a  dhdtu  (a  term  that  often  denote! 
*  element ' :  prthividhdtu,  '  earthy-element,'  etc. ),  and  the 
Abhidharma  rankB  it  in  the  category  of  rupa  (matter).]  But 
for  the  Sautrantikas  and  Madhyamikas  dhUa  is  simply  '  space ' 
(not  'ether'),  'void'  (vyoman  =  Bky),  not.  a  thing  (artha),  but 
simply  the  absence  of  anything  tangible,  that  which  gives 
place  to  things,  whence  its  name  (avakdHam  daddtity  dkd&am).$ 
This  Is  only  a  name,  as  the  past,  nirvana,  and  the  person 
(pudgala)  are  only  names  (says  a  sutra).  But  the  Buddhists  do 
not  deny  a  'far  extended  vacuum,'  eternal,  infinite,  not  made 
(asainskxta),  the  great  nonentity  to  which,  according  to  the 
materialists  (Digha,  L  35  ;  Samyutta,  iii.  207),  the  senses  and 
intelligence  return  at  death. 

3.  The  small  universe  :  general  notions. — 
We  shall  see  below  (5  9)  that  the  Buddhists  imagined  great 
'coemol,'  or   ' chiliocosmoi,'   but  we    shall   first  consider  the 
1  small  universe,'  the  creative  unit  of  these  great  combinations, 
which  extend  to  the  farthest  limits  of  space. 

The  starting-point  of  the  'small  cosmology'  is 
the  old  Indian  and  Brahmanic  geographical  notion  : 
in  the  centre  of  the  world  is  a  great  mountain 
(Meru,  Sumeru  =  Himalaya),  where  the  gods 
dwell,  and  round  which  the  sun  moves.  To  the 
south  lies  India  (Jambudvlpa) ;  to  the  other  sides, 
the  other  continents.  The  following  is  the  Buddhist 
description,  in  its  most  systematic  form  (Abhi- 
dharmakos'a  and  commentary).  When  the  time  has 
come  for  a  new  creation,  after  chaos,  when  every- 
thing is  burnt  up  or  *  volatilized '  (see  art.  Ages  of 
THE  World  [Buddhist]),  the  heaven  of  Brahma 
appears  first  of  all  (and  the  gods  who  had  been  re- 
born in  higher  heavens  come  to  be  re-born  here) ; 
then  the  heavens  of  the  gods  Paranirmitava&a- 
vartins,  Nirmdnaratis,  Tusitas,  and  Ydnias  (see 
§  6) ;  next,  much  lower,  come  (1)  the  wind-circle 
(vdyumandala),  infinite  in  surface,  resting  on 
space,  and  1,600,000  yojanas  (or  leagues)  in  thick- 
ness.4 On  this  wind  -  circle,  the  cloud  of  the 
creation  pours  a  sea  of  1,120,000  leagues  of  golden 
water  in  a  circle  of  1,203,450  leagues'  diameter. 
This  sea,  set  in  motion  by  the  wind,  gives  (2)  the 
water-circle  (dpmandala),  of  800,000  leagues'  thick- 
ness, and  (3)  the  golden  earth  (kdhchanamayl 
bhumi),  which  rises  to  the  top  like  cream  on  milk, 
320,000  leagues  in  thickness.  The  cloud  then 
pours  on  this  golden  earth  gold,  precious  stones, 

1  O.  A.  P.  Rhys  Davids  (op.  cit.  pp.  166,  197,  206)  translates 
mahdbhuta  *  the  things- that-have  become,  die  grossen  Gewor- 
denen,  Ti.yiyv6fi.eva,  a  far  more  scientific  term  than  elements  or 
oToivsta*;  but  possibly  the  expression  mahdbhuta  is  pre- 
Buddhist,  and  is  used  in  a  sense  that  is  not  specifically 
Buddhist.  What  is  not  matter  (rupa) — thought,  etc. — although 
'  becoming '  par  excellence,  is  not  bhuta. 

2  There  is  a  good  summary  on  dkdsa,  '  space '  or  '  ether,'  ia 
Vasudev  Anant  Sukhtankar,  Veddnta  according  to  Rdmdnuja 
(Vienna,  1908),  p.  62.  See  also  Burnouf,  Lotus,  p.  515  ;  Sloka- 
vdrttika,  pp.  380,  770  (Chowkhatnba  Skr.  Ser.),  tr.  pp.  196,  435 
(Bibl.  Indica,  1907);  Sarad  Chandra,  Tib.  Diet.  (Calcutta, 
1902),  p.  426;  Siksdsamuchchaya,  pp.  249,  323;  Madhyama- 
kavrtti,  pp.  129,  271,  389,  413,  505,  628;  Anguttara,  I  176; 
Majjhima,  iii.  241 ;  Kathdvatt.hu,  vi.  6.  7 ;  and  C.  A.  F.  Rhys 
Davids,  op.  cit.  p.  193  (cf.  Visuddhimagga,  JPTS,  1891,  p.  124, 
and  JPTS,  1884,  pp.  27,  29). 

3  '  Kka&a  \b  great,  since  it  gives  place  to  the  production 
(bhava?)  of  all  rupa,  but  it  is  not  a  bhuta'  (Dhandrakirti, 
Paflchaskandhaprakaraya,  p.  275a). 

4  Certain  sources  give  the  names  of  the  whirlwinds  of  this 
wind-circle ;  see  Real,  Catena,  p.  101  ;  cf.  below,  p.  137. 
According  to  Abhidharmakus'a,  iii.  87,  the  yojana  =  8  kro&a  (  = 
the  length  the  voice  can  carry)  =4000  'arcs'  (danda  7)  =16,000 
hands (hasta.  I.e.  'cubits')  « 16,000x24  fingers  (anguli). 


fitmst'. 


iSiite 


r  _ 


132 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Buddhist) 


earth,  water,  iron,  etc,  which  tonu  (a)  in  the 
centre  of  the  system.  Mount  Meru;  (b)  eight 
mountains,  or  concentric  chains  of  mountains, 
seven  of  which  (of  gold)  are  quite  near  Meru  and 
near  each  other,  while  the  eighth  (of  iron)  is 
almost  at  the  very  edge  of  the  system ;  (c)  oceans 
flowing  between  the  concentric  mountain-chains ;  , 
and  (d)  island*,  uotably  four  great  islands  or 
continent*  situated  in  the  largest  of  the  oceans— 
the  'exterior'  ocean,  between  the  7th  and  8th 
mountaius.1 

The  outside  mountain  is  called  Chakravala,  and 
this  uanie  is  also  applied  to  the  entire  'small 
universe,'  lokadhdtu,  or  chdturdvipakalokadhdtu, 
*  tour-continents-universe.' 

CaukravtUa  ^vdfa,  "viida,, the  Sakwala  of  Sp.  Hardy)**'  circle,' 
' bracelet'  'horizon'  (aee  E.  Senart,  Esaai  sur  la  legends  'in 
Buddha  \  Paris,  1882,  p.  6  ft).  In  the  northern  sources  there 
are  a  ■wi[/iT"""f/''-'V'"'nfa"n  and  a  gxe&l-chaknirHlla-maunXMiL, 
called'  block mountains' or '(Bnlfi-momitaina'^ifeiiaparvato;  see 
uitheBvitra,  ad  AmaraJusa,  3,  2,  2  ;  Dhmrnaaanqraha,  312a; 
CaiUuviatwra  [Halle.  19021,  p.  133 ;  Lotos,  in  SBS  xxi  233 ; 
SUcsdsumuohahaya,  p.  246).  Perhaps  che  '  great  chakravala  ' 
envelops  a  group  of  small  universes  (sea  below,  |  g).  Between 
three  universes,  which  form  three  tangent  circles,  there  is  a 
dark  region,  '  in^ram  lindane  darkness '  (lukdntanJai),  a  special 
hell — a  cosmic  abyss,  which  recalls  the  aadraiabha.7uiih  camtu, 
'  unsupported  darkness*'  of  Bagveda,  L  LS2.  6,  vii.  LU4.  3  (see 
Diyaa,  com.  on  iL  12 ;  Sp.  Hardy,  Legonda,  p.  110 ;  Rnmoux, 
lutoj,  p.  832  1  and  3eal,  Catena,  p.  (a). 

The  inin-miinnt.aiTi-ra.ngR,  Chakravala,  like  the 
continents,  rests  on  the  golden  earth.  It  is  312} 
leagues  high  and  312}  broad,  and  3124  leagues 
above  the  level  of  the  exterior  ocean  which  it  sur- 
rounds. This  ocean  is  322,000  leagues  in  extent,* 
and  is  bounded  on  the  inner  side  by  the  Nvmim- 
dhara  range  ('  felly-bearing '),  625  leagues  in  height 
and  breadth,  and  312}  leagues  in  projection  (above 
the  ocean's  level).  Then  there  is  an  ocean  of  1250 
leagues ;  *  then  Vinataka, '  inclined,'  1250  in  height 
and  breadth,  625  in  projection ;  so  ocean  of  2500 
leagues;  Ahiaiarrux,  'horse-ear,'  2500;  an  ocean 
of  5000  j  Sudariana, '  beautiful,'  5000  ;  an  ocean  of 
10,000  ;  Khadira&a,  '  acacia  (*),'  10,000 ;  an  ocean, 
20,000 ;  Ifdd/iara,  '  plough-pole-bearing,'  20,000  ; 
an  ocean,  40,000 ;  Yuganuihara,  '  yoke-bearing,' 
40,000;  an  ocean,  80,000;  Mount  Meru,  160,000 
leagues  high,  80,000  leagues  above  the  level  of  trie 
ocean,  80,000  leagues  broad,  and  320,000  leagues 
in  perimeter.  The  distance,  therefore,  from  the 
axis  of  Meru  to  the  Chakravala-niountain  is 
600,437  '5  leagues ;  the  diameter  of  the  whole  is 
1,200,875  {Abkidharmakoia). 

As  regards  the  order  of  the  mountains,  we  have  followed 
A.E.V.,  Divydvaddna  (p.  217),  Beat,  Eitel  (Handbook af  Chinese 
BmMataa,  London,  1888) ;  there  are  carious  variations  in  Mahd- 
vyutpaUi,  9  194  ;  Dharrnaswnffraha,  §  125  ;  Mahdvastu,  a.  300 ; 
SiJcsdj.  p.  240 ;  Visuddhimagga,  and  Semijdtaka  (Jdtaka,  vL 
126).  Cf.  a  curious  discussion  in  Burnouf,  Lotus,  p.  844,  on  the 
commentators  on  some  of  these  divergencies ;  cf.  also  Sp.  Hardy, 
L-i'jeiuts,  p.  82.  The  names  of  the  mountains  are  sometimes 
doubtful,  e.g.  Tiadhara,  Iiadhara,  fs.LdAdra,  Ijddhara,  lsdn~ 
dhara.  The  dimensions  of  the  mountains  and  oceans  also  differ. 
The  Pali  documents  have,  as  the  starting-point  of  their  calcula- 
tions, a  Meru  of  168,000  leagues  high,  with  base  84x34,  and 
SOjOOO above  sea-level  {ancienc  source,  Ahguctara,  iv.  100)  ;  from 
this,  if  we  adopt  a  scheme  chat  appears  as  classical  in  all  sources, 
we  get  42,000  for  the  first  ocean,  and  the  same  for  the  first 
circular  chain  of  mountains,  then  21,000.  .  .  .  This  would  give 
a  greater  total  diameter  than  that  which  we  got  according  to  the 
AohidAarmakoia  Now,  the  Pali  J ina.: <iiiiku.ru  has  for  the  dia- 
meter of  Chakravala  1,119,440  (Sp.  Hardy,  Legends,  p.  86,  seems 
inaccurate),  and  Che  VisvddAimagga  has  1,203,460,  »".«.  the  num- 
ber attributed  by  the  Kusa  to  the  water-circle,  which,  according 
to  A.K.  V.,  exceeds  Chakravala  by  2575. 

The  seven  concentric  mountain-ranges  have  the  generic  name 
of  Kul&chala  '  principal,  noble  mountains.'  Theyare  composed 
of  gold,  being  excrescences  of  the  golden  earth.  They  are  '  like 
walls,'  their  height  and  thickness  being  equal.    One  may  ask, 


1  See  an  excellent  map  of  the  Chakravala  (100,000  leagues  to 
an  inch)  in  Gogerly,  Ceylon  Buddhism,  Colombo,  1908. 

*  There  are  numerous  legends  on  this  '  great  ocean ' :  see  Sp. 
Hardy,  Lx'jends,  p.  121.  On  the  Mahasanvudra  we  may  refer 
to  Samyutta,  v.  441. 

3  The  generic  name  of  the  seven  '  interior '  oceans  is  sidanta  (7), 
Tibetan  rot-mtsho,  *  lakes  with  gentle  waves.'  For  their  particu- 
lar names,  see  Dharmasangraha,  §  126  ;  Childera,  I.e.  '  Sagaro ' ; 
Sp.  Hardy,  Legends,  p.  34  ;  Remusat,  op.  eit.  p.  80. 


however,  whether  they  are  perpendicular,  or,  tike  our  nioaa- 
tains,  inclined.  The  answer  u*  that  the*  are  really  a  little 
broader  at  the  base  {A.&.  V.).  It  is  cot  clear  whether  losa  are 
circular  or  Torm  squares.  TViey  are  often  represented  aqiare  . 
1-tsing  lleiieves  Che  earth  to  be  square,  hie  Buddhist  con  vena- 
it  is  quite  certain  chat,  in  Cos  Sanskrit  AbhidJkwtna,  Aieru  m  a 
parallelepiped.1 

4.  Dvi[M3,  '  islands '  or  '  continents,'  (abodes  of 
mankind).* — In  the  'exterior'  ocean,  facing  the 
eastern,  southern,  etc.,  sides  of  Mount  Meru,  and 
lit  up  in  succession  at  distances  of  6  hours  after 
each  other  by  the  sun  turning  round  Meru,  are 
four  islands  {dviputt,  <%/*).  They  are  formed  of 
excellent  earth,  and  rest  on  the  golden  earth,  or 
circle  of  gold  (kdAckaruKJiMkra),  with  a  depth  of 
80,000  leagues  of  water  (cf.  Vivydvaddna,  p.  197,  7). 
These  islands  are  supposed  to  be  on  a  level  with 
the  ocean,  and  it  appears  that,  in  this  general 
definition,  the  Bmail  variations  that  constitute  our 
earthly  mountains  are  not  taken  into  considera- 
tion.' 

(1)  In  the  east  is  the  f^mavidtha,  'Eastern 
Videha,'*  in  tha  form  of  a  half  or  crescent  moon, 
to  which  fare  attributed,  nevertheless,  four  sides ; 
three  2000  leagues  (yojaiuz)  long,  the  fourth  350 
leagues  (perimeter,  6350  leagues).  The  men  ia 
this  continent  dwell  in  towns  and  villages,  and 
live  for  250  years ;  they  are  8  cubits  ifiasta)  in 
height,  and  their  faces,  like  the  continent  itself, 
arettalf-moon-shapcd.' 

(2)  In  the  south  ia  Jam&udvipaf  '  Bose-anoie- 
tree's  continent,'1  our  continent,  the  continent 
where  the  Buddhas  are  bom.  It  is  a  ehariot  ia 
form,  with  four  sides:  three  2000  leagues  long, 
the  fourth  3"5  leagues  (perimeter,  6003-5).  The 
men  there  live  100  years  at  most ;  *  their  height  is 
from  3  50  to  4  cubits  ;  they  resemble  the  continent 
in  shape.  (3)  In  the  west  is  the  ^^ttrafrodjiaa  (or 
-'godamya  or  -"gvadna),  *  Western  pasturage.'*    It 

1  The  present  writer  does  not  know  the  source  of  Sp.  Hardy's 
crmous  description  (iftmavSi  of  Budki&7i,  p.  10) :  kleru  is 
round ;  at  tree  smnmit  and  at  the  bass  it  is  10,000  leagues  tl 
diameter,  halfway  op  (at  the  sea-level)  60,000,  and  halfway  sf 
the  prelecting  part  30,000  leagues.  On  Brahmanical  authorities 
concerning  sSrro,  see  Bohtlingk-Botb,  *.«.  '  Hero " ;  Fausbou, 
IndiamMytJioiari,  1908;  B.  W.  Hopkins,  JAOS,  X910,  p.  SSe; 
AI-Birnni,  India,  L  242,  32T. 

a  The  Pali  canonical  sources  seem  very  scanty ;  tons  M 
enumeration  of  the  dvipos  is  "''"""g  in  the  chapter  of  the 
'Fours'  in  the  Angvitmro,  while  the  Sookjutta  speaks  of  tool 
dipas,  the  possession  of  which  is  not  so  precious  as  th^t  of  thv 
rdor  verities.  See  Spence  Hardy,  Hanioi,  pp.  *,  14,  Z*o*s*fi, 
"     Warren,  pp.  49,  04  ;  Ha&dvyutpacti,  \  154 ;  tihai mk 

Bi  120 ;  Pitn/dradano,  p.  214  S. ;  £aruavutars,  p.  li»; 
,  Alpk.  Tibet,  p.  473  ;  Koppen,  Budd/iism,  L  233  ;  Wad- 
dell,  Lamaism,  p.  307  ;  Remusat,  Fa-tour-Ki,  Paris,  1S36,  p.  81, 
Jftlangea  pottA.  p.  71 ;  Beal,  Catena,  pp.  21,  35.  The  Brahmans 
have  various  nomenclatures  for  the  continents,  and  notably  one 
of  four :  BAadrdsvii  C  good  horses  'X  Jainbv,  Ketujndia,  Urtara. 
rim  (see  E.  W.  Hopkins,  JAOS,  1910,  p.  368,  and  art.  Coaao- 
sobt  i.vj  Cosholoqt  [  Indian]). 

3  Sarad  Chandra ( TibeUw  Diet.  p.  117S  fl.)  gives  the  names  of 
the  mountains  of  the  several  continents — six,  four,  five,  and  two 
respectively — with  the  "•^^  of  the  wild  beasts  inhabiting 
them. 

4  rid&*w=the  modern  Tirhut ;  Tibetan  lur-ApAaox,  'nobis 
body '  0?lay  on  the  Sir.  word  ieha,  *  body  0»  *  because  the  human 
height  there  is  double  what  it  is  in  our  continent,'  i-a.  in  tha 
Jambudvipa- 

»  BAimivaidt,  'because  of  the  influence  of  the  place,  as  wen  as 
the  inhabitants  of  the  Himalaya  or  the  Vindhya  mountains,  bars 
particular  characteristics '(4.  K.  V\2S6a;  cf-Sp.  Hardy,  Legends, 
p.  85>  Notice  the  good  foundation  for  tide  ethnographical  ob- 
servatioQ-  The  inhabitants  of  these  parts  of  India  are  really  of 
Tibetan  race  or  '  autochthonous.' 

a  Also  Jamiu3andih)a,  '  chkket  of  jamirU-Ooa' {AAglOtarm, 
iv.  »0 ;  Suttcnipdta,  652  :  .*-£.  V.  252a). 

T  On  this  name,  see  art-  Cosmooo.vt  asd  CosaioLoar  (IndianX 
AAguttara.  L  104  (1SS3X  Acconhng  to  Sarad  Chandra  (Tib. 
Diet.  p.  1048),  this  continent  is  also  named  'from  the  jam-jam 
sound  made  by  che  falling  from  heaven  of  the  leaves  of  the 
wishing-tree  into  the  river  Ganges.'  We  are  not  concerned  with 
the  Buddhist  geography  of  this  continent  (Sp.  Hardy,  Manual, 
p.  15,  etC-X 

s  The  Vibhang*  (PT3,  1904,  p.  422)  knows  only  one  length  of 
human  life  (which  is  the  same  as  that  of  Jambu) :  oassajaiam 
aipam  vd  bniyyo  vd.  Life  aiders  in  one  and  the  same  continent 
according  to  the  period  of  che  age  of  the  world  (see  Asss  or  thb 
Worui  (Buddhist),  voL  L  p.  189). 

>  This  13,  at  least,  the  meaning  of  the  Tibetan  .Vuo  ba-lanr 
rpvod  but  godd  is  a  geographical  1 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Buddhist) 


133 


is  round,  i.e.  it  has  three  sides  of  2500  leagues 
(perim.  7500) ; 1  length  of  human  life,  500  years  ; 
height,  16  cubits.  (4)  In  the  north,  the  Uttara- 
kuru,  '  Northern  Kuru-l&nd  ' a  (Auttarakaurava), 
is  an  oblong,  4  x  2000  leagues.  There  are  neither 
villages  nor  towns ;  length  of  life,  2000  years  ; 
height,  32  cubits. 

The  above  dimensions  are  those  of  the  Lokaprajftapii  and  the 
Abhidharmakoia  (H.  63  f.).  The  Lalitavistara  has  them  ar- 
ranged in  this  order— 9000,  7000,  8000,  and  10,000  leagues  ;  Sp. 
Hardy  has  7000,  10,000  (in  length  and  breadth),  7000,  and  8000. 

In  the  diagrams  which  the  Buddhist  cult  (Great  Vehicle  and 
Tantriara)  UBes  for  the  '  offering  of  the  universe,'  s  the  continents 
are  represented  :  (1)  half-moon  (aTdhachandra)  and  white,  (2) 
iriangular  (tryasra)  and  golden,  (3)  circular  and  red,  and  (4) 
square  and  dark  blue. 

According  to  the  '  northern '  sources,  there  are  alongside  of 
each  continent  two  small  continents  (upadvipas),  of  the  same 
shape  bat  half  the  size,  In  the  following  order,  starting  from 
N.E.E. :  Deha  and  Videha,  Chamara  (Chowrie  [?])  and  Apara- 
chamara  (Western  Chowrie),  Sa^as-island  and  Uttaramantrin- 
island,  Kurus-island  and  Kauravas-island.  Their  inhabitants 
are  monstrous  creatures  with  three  eyes,  legs,  and  ears  (Kalpa- 
druma).  According  to  Jdtaka,  i.  63  (Warren,  p.  64),  there  is  an 
archipelago  of  500  islands  round  each  continent. 

The  Mahdvyutpatti  names  the  last  four  'little  continents' 
according  to  the  names  of  their  inhabitants  (ct.uttara.fi  kuravdh. 
[Mahdbhdrata,  vi.  208])— Safe,  an  inhabitant  of  6afca,  an  ancient 
geographical  name,  although  the  readings  Sdfd  and  Sd{hd  have 
a  feminine  appearance;  Tibetan  gyo-ldan, l  deceitful  '(  =  6atha)'t 
Uttaramantrin  =  lam-mchog-hgro,  'best-way-going.'  For  kurus 
and  kauravas  (sgra-mi-itflan  and  sgra-mi-sflan-zla,  according  to 
Desgodins),  see  Waddell,  p.  899, 

5.  Unhappy  existences  (apdya). — (i.)  The 
DAMNED.4 — {a)  Hot  hells. — Twenty  thousand 
leagues  under  Jamhudvipa  (the  southern  part, 
or  part  under  Bodh  Gaya)  is  the  Avichi  hell 
(*  no  release '  [?]),  forming  a  cube  of  20,000  leagues. 
Above  it  are  seven  other  hot  hells,  called  (in 
descending  order):  (1)  Sanjlva,  'reviving,'  be- 
cause winds  re-animate  the  dying  damned  ;  (2) 
Kdlasutra,  (  black  string,*  whicn  cuts  the  damned 
into  pieces  (cf.  JPTS,  1884,  p.  76) ;  (3)  Sahghdta, 
'dashing  together,1  between  mountains,  etc.  ; 
(4)  Raurava,  'weeping' ;  (5)  Mahdraurava,  'great 
weeping ' ;  (6)  T&pana,  '  heating '  j  and  (7)  Pratd- 
pana,  '  greatly  heating '  (A.K.  V.  ad  iii.  58). 

Some  authorities  (cf.  A.K.V.  and  Beal,  Catena,  p.  67)  think 
that  the  hells  are  pyramidal  in  shape,  each  of  them  being 
smaller  towards  the  upper  part,  '  like  a  heap  of  grain.'  We  are 
told  also  that  each  hell  is  4000  leagues  deep.  According  to  the 
Ealpadruma,  there  is,  Brst  of  all,  a  layer  of  500  leagues  of  white 
clay,  then  500  leagues  of  black  clay,  then  the  Safljiva  and  the 
other  six  hells  occupying  10,000  leagues,  the  last  of  them, 
Pratdpana,  reaching  19,000  leagues  underneath  the  surface  of 
the  Janitntdvipa  ;  then  the  Avichi  is  20,000  leagues.11 

No  name  seems  to  exist  in  the  earliest  Pali  texts  for  the  burn- 
ing '  great  hell '  of  Majjhima,  i.  B37,  ill  167,  183  (ct  Anguttara, 
L  188),  which  is  also  the  hell  in  which  schismatics  suffer  for  an 
'age  of  the  world '  (kalpa)  (see  ChuUavagga,  vii.  5,  4  ;  Angut- 
tara, v.  76. 'etc.).  This  hell  Is  clearly  the  Avichi  of  the  later 
literature.''    See,  e.g.,  the  description  in  Majjhima  of  the  ma- 


ltr=3  in  the  Abhidharmakos'a.  Sp.  Hardy  has  814285 
{Manual,  p.  10). 

•  Different  from  the  Kurus  (Central  India)  and  the  Southern 
Kotos.  It  Is  Ptolemy's  Ottorokorra  (see  art.  Blest,  Abode  op 
the  [Buddhist],  voL  II  p.  687,  and  [Hindu]  ib.  p.  698  f.,  and  also 
Anguttara,  iv.  896,  on  the  moral  and  spiritual  characters  of  the 
Uttarakurukas).  The  Tibetan  translation  of  this  word,  like 
several  others,  is  onomatopoetic,  sgra-mi-sflan,  '  disagreeable 
sound'  (ku-rava;  ku-Jru,  ku,  a  pejorative,  ru,  'to  make  any 
noise  ),  '  for  during  the  seven  days  before  death,  one  hears  the 
disagreeable  sound  of  the  death. 

•  See  '  Adikarmapradipa,'  in  Poussln,  Bouddhisme  ;  Etudes  et 
MaUriaux,  Brussels  ana  London,  1893,  p.  224  ;  Waddell,  Lama- 
ism,  p.  398  (with  plate) ;  Georgi,  Alph.  Tibetanum,  p.  472. 

•  See  art.  Hell  (Buddhist).  The  chief  sources  for  the  Bud- 
dhist hells  are  A.K.V.  fol.  266  ;  Kalya&ruma,  p.  6  ;  Mahdvastu, 
L  4;  Nagarjuna's  'Epistle,'  in  JPTS,  1886;  Ohandragomin's 
'Epistle,  in  Zapiski,  iv.  29 ff.  ;  JPTS,  1884, p.  164  ;  Beal,  Catena, 

E.  67  ;  Waddelf,  Lamaism,  p.  92  ;  and  on  the  pains,  Anguttara, 
188  (Warren,  p.  267);  Divydvaddna,  p.  376;  Majjhnna,  no. 
129;  Kathdvatthu,  xx.  3.  A  comparison  with  the  Brahmanical 
and  Hindu  sources  is  instructive  and  necessary  (see  especially 
Feer,  '  L'Bnfer  indien,'  In  J  A,  1892,  iL  [partly  translated  in  the 
JBTSot  India,  1894,  pt.  iv.  app.  ».]). 

B  Cf.  Sp.  Hardy,  Manual,  p.  27.  Waddell  makes  the  hells 
begin  11,900  leagues  below  the  surface. 

«  Aviehi,  '  no  refuge,' '  no  release.'  The  Chinese  sources  men- 
tion various  regions  in  the  Avichi ;  cf.  the  Xaddharmasmrtyu- 
pattthdna  (Nanjio,  Catalogue,  1883,  pp.  679,  804)  quoted  in 
Siksdsamuchchaya,  p.  69  f.,  the  '  terrible-birds  '  (8000  leagues), 
'  the  infernal  precipice,' '  the  hole  with  wheels,'  etc. 


hdniraya,  which  has  three  nameB  :  (1)  chhaphassdyatanika  (cf. 
Saihyutta,  iv.  126), '  bix  organs  (suffering) ' ;  (2)  saiiucusamdhata, 
'reunion  of  Javelins,'  because  every  thousand  years  (or  every 
hundred  years)  two  javelins  pierce  the  heart  of  the  damned,  and 
meet  inside  it ;  and  (3)  pachchattavedaniya,  '  to  be  known  only 
by  personal  experience.'  After  innumerable  centuries  the  guilty 
one  passes  into  the  uteada,  a  zone  which  surrounds  the  great 
hell,  and  where  there  is  access  through  four  gates  to  the  four 
cardinal  points,  and  there  suffers  the  pain  called  vuUhdnima. 

On  each  of  the  four  sides  of  each  hell  there 
are  four  utsadas  (ussada  ;  osupat  in  Sp.  Hardy, 
Manual,  p.  27),  excrescences  (cf.  narwkakumbha, 
'  hell-jar,  ( hell-prominence '),  ante-chambers,  or 
rather  'post-chambers,'  of  hell,  in  which  the 
damned  in  succession  are  tortured  on  leaving  hell 
{in  which  they  are  sometimes  finally  rejected). 
They  are :  (1)  Jcukula  (kukkida),  ( fiery  pit,* 
'chaff-fire' ;  (2)  kunapa,  '  corpse-quagmire'  (cf. 
guthaniraya) ;  (3)  kquramdrqa,  '  razor-road,'  etc. 
(etc.  =asipattravana,  '  sword-leaved  forest,'  and 
idlmalivana,    '  seemul-forest '  with    cruel    birds) ; 

(4)  the  nadi,  *  river,'  by  its  name  Vaitarani,  the 
Indian  Styx,  which  is  conjectured  to  be  as  early  as 
the  Brahman  as  (of.  Khdrodakd  nadi  [Majjhima'], 
A.K.V.  iii.  59). x 

Hell  contains  sixteen  utsadas  (brgyad-po  kun-la  lhag  ben-drug, 
'to  each  of  the  eight,  sixteen  utsadas'  [A.K.V.]).  A  primitive 
idea,  which  is  more  satisfactory,  is  to  regard  the  four  utsadas 
as  so  many  zoneB  surrounding  the  igneous  cage  in  the  centre. 

The  damned  of  the  Safljiva  live  there  for  600  years  of  12 
months  of  30  days,  but  each  day  is  equal  to  the  length  of  the  life 
of  gods  in  the  heaven  of  the  Four  Kings  (see  below,  §  6),  and  so 
on,  life  in  the  Tdpana  being  calculated  as  a  function  of  the  life 
of  the paranirmitavas'avartin  gods  (see  ib.).  In  the  Pratdpana 
life  lasts  for  half  of  an  antarakalpa  (see  art.  Ages  op  the  World 
[Buddhist],  vol.  I.  p.  188),  in  the  Avichi  one  antarakalpa 
(A.K.V.).  The  interpretation  of  the  Kofta  is,  therefore,  similar 
to  Buddhaghosas  (Kathdvatthu,  xiii.  1),  which  fixes  the  exist- 
ence of  the  damned,  called  kalpastha,  '  lasting  a  kalpa,'  at  ^  of 
a  (great)  kalpa,  while  the  Rdjagirikas  understand  a  great  kalpa 
here  (see  the  texts  concerning  schismatics  quoted  above).2 

(b)  Cold  hells. — According  to  the  northern 
sources,  eight  cold  hells  are  distinguished :  (1) 
Arbuda,   (2)  Nirarbuda,   (3)  Atata,   (4)  Hahava, 

(5)  Huhuva,  (6)  Utpala,  (7)  Padma,  (8)  Mahu- 
padma.  (1),  (2),  (6),  (7),  and  (8)  are  named  from 
the  shape  of  their  inhabitants;  in  (1)  and  (2)  the 
damned  are  like  arbudas,  '  a  round  mass '  ('  bubble,1 
'tumour,'  'first-month  fetus');  in  (6),  (7),  and  (8) 
they  resemble  lotuses.  The  names  of  (3),  (4),  and 
(5)  are  onomatopoetic :  the  teeth  of  the  damned, 
knocking  against  each  other  with  the  cold,  produce 
the  sound  atata,  etc.  (A.K.  V.).3 

These  hells,  which  are  2000  leagues  deep,  are 
arranged  in  stages,  like  the  hot  hells,  and:  near 
them    (Kalpadruma) ;    or  —  a  view    which   seems 

§  referable — they  are  placed  in  the  ( intra-mundane 
arkness'  (lokdntarika  niraya),  among  the  Chak- 
ravalas  (Beal,  Catena,  p.  64,  according  to  Abhidhar- 
maiastra  ;  Dialogues,  li.  9).  Sp.  Hardy  (Manual, 
p.  59)  places  the  ghosts  {pretas)  in  this  darkness. 

The  ancient  Pali  texts,  Samyutta,  i.  152,  Angut- 
tara, v.  172,  and  Suttanipdta,  p.  123  {SEE  x.  119), 
give  the  same  nomenclature  with  a  few  variants 
and  additions  (Kern,  Manual  of  Ind.  Buddhism, 
Strassburg,  1896,  p.  58) ;  but  the  names,  originally 
at  least,  did  not  refer  to  distinct  hells.  They  de- 
noted the  periods,  increasing  by  the  multiple  20, 
during  which  the  damned  person  lives  in  hell :  '  If 
there  were  a  load  of  sesamum  seed  containing  sixty 
bushels  (20  khdrls),  and  a  man  after  the  lapse  of 

1  On  the  utsadas,  see  Morris,  in  JPTS,  1887,  p.  144  ;  Mahdvyut- 
patti,  §  216  ;  Bumouf,  Lotus,  p.  668  ;  E.  Senart,  Mahtivastu,  i.  6, 
372  note,  iii.  369,  with  which  cf.  Majjhima,  iii.  185  (Neumann, 
Iii.  354,  translates  kukkulaniraya  wrongly  as  'dogs'  hell'), 
JPTS,  1884,  p.  155,  1887*  p.  47  ;  Sarad  Chandra,  Tib.  Diet. 
p.  983  ;  Waddell,  p.  96  ;  Suttanipdta,  v.  670. 

2  Buddhaghoea  gives  a  different  interpretation  (ad  Kathd- 
vatthu, xi.  5). 

s  Arbuda  =  Tib.  chu-bur,  'water-bubble  ;  nirarbuda  =  chu- 
bur-rdul-ba-can,  '  dust-bubbles '  (but  elsewhere  rdol-ba-can  [?]) ; 
then  eo-tham-pa,  'chattering  of  teeth,'  and  a-chu  .  .  .  zer-ba, 
1  where  one  says  "  Akiu  " ' ;  ut-pa-la  Ita-bur  gas-pa,  '  where  one 
is  split  [by  the  cold]  like  an  utpala,'  i.e.  the  damned  are  split 
Into  8,  30,  or  60  pieces,  according  to  the  number  of  petals  of  the 
lotus  after  which  the  hell  is  called  (Georgi,  Alph.  Tibet,  p.  2G6 ; 
ct.  Beal,  Catena,  p.  63,  and  Waddell,  p.  96). 


134 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Buddhist) 


every  hundred  years  were  to  take  from  it  one 
sesamum  seed,  that  load  would  sooner  dwindle 
away  than  one  Abbuda  hell;  and  even  as  are 
twenty  Abbuda  hells,  so  is  one  Nirabbuda  hell.' 
The  Abhidharmakoia  (iii.  84)  has  the  same  method 
of  counting  for  the  arbuda,  etc.  Arbuda,  etc.,  are 
what  are  called  'high  numerals'  (Mahavyutpatti, 
§  246  [101-102],  §  250  [9-14];  see  AGES  OF  THE 
World  [Buddhist],  vol.  i.  p.  188"). 

(a)  There  are  some  hells  about  which  we  know  nothing  but 
the  names,  e.g.  the  Sartisavaka  ( Vimdnavattku,  p.  50),  ana  the 
traditions  of  the  Great  Vehicle  are  rich  in  multiple  inventions. 
We  may  mention  the  hells  that  the  Tibetans  call  '  ephemeral ' 
(fli-tshe-ba),  which  are  the  '  frontier  hells '  of  Beal  (Catena,  p. 
65),  Skr.  prddekika  or  pratyekanarakas  (?)  (see  Mahdvastu,  i. 
458,  and  Burnouf,  Introduction,  p.  320).  They  are  reserved  for 
small  sins  or  for  special  categories  of  sinners  (see  art.  Bodhi- 
battva,  voL  u.  p.  744b).  They  are  found  on  the  borders  of  the 
hells,  in  ttae  ocean,  in  the  world  of  men,  and  in  the  deserts  of 
Jambudvipa.    There  are  84,000  of  them. 

(ii.)  Animals. — The  animals  form  the  class  im- 
mediately above  the  damned.  They  are  divided 
into  many  categories  (e.g.  Majjhima,  no.  129),  and 
their  special  abode  is  the  '  exterior  ocean ' ;  but,  as 
everybody  knows,  they  are  met  with  in  the  world 
of  men,  and  (in  spite  of  what  certain  heretics 
say)  not  in  the  world  of  the  gods  (Kathavatthu, 
xx.  4). 

(iii.)  Pretas,  'the  dead'  or  'ghosts.' — The 
popular  beliefs  concerning  the  dead  have  not  yet 
been  systematized,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  Peta- 
vatthu  and  the  literature  of  every  epoch  (see  artt. 
Death,  etc.  [Buddhist],  State  of  the  Dead  [Bud- 
dhist], etc.).  Speaking  generally,  we  may  say  that 
the  pretas  dwell  almost  everywhere  throughout  the 
world  of  men,  but  especially  in  the  kingdom  of 
Yama,  which  is  divided  into  36  provinces,  situated 
600  leagues  below  Jambudvipa.  There  they  live 
500  years,  a  day  being  equal  to  a  human  month.1 

(iv. )  Asuras,  '  non-gods.'  s — Their  abode  is  espe- 
cially in  the  caverns  of  Mount  Meru,  below  the 
level  of  the  sea,  where  there  are  four  towns  of 
11,000  leagues,  at  depths  of  20,000,  40,000,  60,000, 
and  80,000  leagues,  namely,  'Shining,'  'Stai- 
tassel,'  'Deep,'  and  'Golden  town,'  with  Rahu 
(the  spirit  of  the  eclipse),  Kanthamaladhara,  Puspa- 
maladhara,  and  Veraachitra  as  kings.'  But  they 
often  leave  their  abysses  to  conquer  Meru,  and 
fight  with  the  '  Thirty-three  gods '  and  their  van- 
guard (dragons  and  yaksas) ;  hence  the  mistake 
made  by  some  authors  in  saying  that  they  dwell 
on  the  fourth  stage  of  Meru. 

There  is  an  infinite  number  of  yaksas  (yalclcha, 
'a  being  to  be  worshipped,'  'a  powerful  spirit' 
[Kern,  Manual,  p.  59]),  terrestrial  (bhauma,  living 
on  the  surface  of  the  earth  and  under  the  earth), 
atmospheric,  etc.*  Three  categories  occupy  a  special 
place  in  our  sources  (Abhidharmakoia,  iii.  56)  as 
inhabitants  of  Mount  Meru. 

On  Meru  there  are  four  terraces  (parisanda, 
ban-rim)  of  16,000,  8000,  4000,  and  2000  leagues, 
separated  from  each  other  by  10,000  leagues.  The 
fourth  is  reserved  for  the  Four  Kings,  who  are 
classed  as  gods  (devas)  (see  below,  §  6) ;  the  other 
three  are  inhabited  by  (1)  the  yaksas  karofapanis, 
'  bowl  in  hand,'  (2)  the  yaksas  mdlddharas,  '  bearing 

1  A  study  of  the  pretas  'with  magical  power,'  and  of  the  king 
of  the  pretas  (pettirdja),  as  well  as  that  of  the  'guardians  of  the 
hells '  (who  may  bear  the  name  of  god  [Kathavatthu.  xx.  SJ), 
etc.,  belongs  to  the  doctrine  of  existing  beings  rather  than  to 
cosmology. 

2  On  the  asuras,  see  above,  p.  180  ;  and  art.  Daitta. 

8  According  to  Kalpadruma,  p.  5  ;  Beal  (Catena,  p.  51)  is  of  a 
different  opinion.  See  Bumouf,  Introduction,^,.  601  (incorrect) ; 
Koppen,  i.  246 ;  Nagarjuna's  '  Epistle,'  in  JPTS,  1886,  p.  27 ; 
Mahavyutpatti,  §  171 ;  Divyavadana,  pp.  126,  148,  222 ;  Maha- 
vastu,  i.  30,  ii.  344,  iii.  138,  254.  The  Mahdvastu  speaks  of  Ave 
armies  of  asuras,  but  mentions  only  three  kings — Vemachitrin, 
Rahu,  and  Muchilinda.  The  Kathavatthu  (viii.  1)  associates  the 
companions  of  Vepachitti  with  the  gods,  and  the  kutakanjakas 
with  the  pretas.  On  the  war  of  the  asuras  with  the  suras,  see 
A  nguttara,  iv.  433 ;  JPTS,  1903,  p.  143,  etc 

4  We  may  mention  the  twenty-eight  generals  of  the  yaksas 
referred  to  in  Laiitavistara,  p.  202. 


garlands,'  and  (3)   the  yaksas  sadamada*  (soda- 
mattas  [Digha,  ii.  280]),  'always  drunk.'1 

6.  Heavens  of  the  concupiscence-world  [kdma- 
dhatu). — (a)  On  the  fourth  terrace  of  Meru  is  the 
retinue  of  the  Four  Great  Kings  (chdturmah&- 
rujakayUcas,  catumnuthdrdjikas),  80,000  in  all  (?),* 
and  (higher  up,  if  we  are  to  believe  Digha,  i.  216) 
the  Four  Great  Kings,  niiers  of  the  cardinal  points. 
These  are  the  first  beings  who  regularly  receive 
the  name  of  'gods,'  and  are  classed  as  such.  The 
length  of  their  life  is  500  years,  a  day  being  equal 
to  50  human  years,  and  their  height  is  £  kroia 
( =  ^  yojana, '  league ').  Perhaps  the  numerous  ser- 
vants and  courtiers  of  the  Great  Kings,  the  gan- 
dharvas,  'celestial  musicians,'  etc.,  although  they 
are  not  devas,  ought  to  be  regarded  as  belonging 
to  this  category. 

Half-way  up  Meru  are  the  chariots  of  the  sun  (51 
leagues),  of  the  moon  (a  league  further  down),  and 
of  the  stars.  These  deities  do  not  form  a  special 
class.* 

(6)  On  the  summit  of  Meru  are  the  gods  '  who 
have  the  Thirty -three  at  their  head'  (trdyattrim- 
iat ;  tdvatimsas),  to  the  number  of  100,000  (?),  and, 
above  them  (according  to  Digha),  is  their  king 
Sakra,  devanam  inda,  'the  India  of  the  gods. 
Their  town,  '  Lovely  view,'  is  2500  miles  square, 
and  contains  the  Palace  of  Victory  {vaijayanta 
[Majjhima,  i.  253]),  etc.  They  live  for  1000  years, 
one  day  being  equal  to  100  human  yean  (Digha, 
ii.  327),*  and  their  height  is  J  kroia. 

Then  there  are  palaces  which  might  be  called 
aerial  (vimdna) :  * 

(c)  160,000  leagues  above  Jambudvipa,  i.e.  80,000 
above  the  Thirty -three,  and  80,000  leagues  broad, 
the  palace  of  the  yamas  gods.'whose  king  Suyama, 
according  to  Digha,  dwells  higher  up.  Length  of 
life,  2000  years,  one  day =200  human  years ;  height, 
2  kroia. 

Id)  The  abode  of  the  tusitas,  'satisfied'  or 
'  blissful ' ;  the  residence  of  a  future  Buddha  before 
his  last  existence  ;  king,  Samtusita ;  length  of  life, 
4000  years ;  height,  1  kroia. 

(e)  The  abode  of  the  rdrmanaraiis,  'who  have 
their  pleasure  in  creation,' '  happy  creators ' ;  king, 
Sunirmita, 'well-built.'  According  to  the A.K.  V., 
the  meaning  of  this  name  is  '  enjoying  self-created 
pleasures,'  in  contrast  with  the  inferior  gods,  who 
enjoy  objects  which  are  presented  to  them  on 
account  of  their  de&erts  (cf.  Itivuttaka,  p.  94). 
Length  of  life,  8000  years ;  height,  li  kroia. 

(/)  1,280,000  leagues  above  Jambuavipa,  640,000 
leagues  broad,  the  abode  of  the  60,000  paranir- 
mitavaiavartins  (paranirmita,  and  sometimes 
wrongly  [?]  pari"),  naving  Vasavartin,  '  the  sover- 
eign,' as  king  {Digha,  i.  219).  The  name  of  these 
gods   means   'rulers  over  the  things  created  by 

1  Bee  M alt&vyulpaui,  §  163,  88-38 ;  Burnouf,  Introduction,  p. 
699  (quoting  Georgi,  p.  480) ;  Mahdvastu,  i.  BO ;  Divyavadana, 
p.  218  (which  mentions  nagas,  'dragons,'  resting  on  the  water 
ludakanisrita)  at  the  foot  of  Meru);  Morris,  JPTS,  1891,  pp. 
21-25.  These  genii,  dii  minores,  are  sometimes  called  devas, 
especially  the  karo(apdnu  (Divyavadana  and  Mahavyutpatti)', 
so  also  the  bhaumds  devas  in  Laiitavistara,  etc..  Deva-putra, 
*  god-son,' '  divine,'  Is  sometimes  an  epithet  of  gnatar  gods. 

3  According  to  Laiitavistara,  p.  46,  19. 

>  See  A.K.  V.  iii.  60;  Beal,  Catena,  p.  71;  Spenoe  Hardy, 
Manual,  p.  26. 

*  Here,  as  elsewhere,  years  consisting  of  IS  months  of  30  days 
are  meant.  In  Divyavadana,  p.  225,  the  day  of  Sakra  and  of 
the  Thirty-three  is  equal  to  only  one  human  year  ;  hence  a  total 
of  360,000  human  years. 

*  The  Tibetan  translation  means  '  non-measurable  (vi-mdna) 
mansions.'  These  palaces  may  be  spiritual,  i.e.  they  are  com- 
posed of  subtle  matter:  'splendid,  pagoda-shaped  palaces, 
movable  from  place  to  place  by  an  effort  of  will '  (Childers, 
Diet.  p.  674);  see  Vimdnavatthu,  and  Bohtlingk-Roth,  a.*. 
'  Vimana.' 

a  The  meaning  of  yamas,  is  not  clear.  The  Tibetan  is  hthab- 
brai-ba,  'free  from  battle,'  because  they  have  not  to  wage  war 
with  the  asuras,  as  the  Thirty -three  have  to  do.  The  yamas, 
as  we  have  seen  (§  3),  are  created  before  the  chakravdta.  The 
kings  are  named  in  Laiitavistara,  p.  44. 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Buddhist) 


135 


other9,'  '  disposers  of  others'  creations '  (C.  A.  F. 
Rhys  Davids'  tr.),  i.e.  they  themselves  create,  or 
they  cause  others  to  create,  the  objects  of  enjoy- 
ment which  they  desire.  Length  of  life,  160,000 
years,  one  day  =  16,000  human  years  ;  height,  1$ 
krofa. 

Some  sources  regard  Mara,  the  Satan  of  early  Buddhism,  as 
the  Supreme  god  of  the  world  of  concupiscence,  and  assign  a 
special  place  to  him,  Marabhavana,  with  68,000  good  assistants. 
Length  of  life,  32,000  years  (see  Lalitavistara,  index,  and  Beal, 
Catena,  p.  83,  who  adds,  from  the  Chinese  Dirghdffama,  the 
weight  of  tile  clothing  of  each  class ;  it  varies  from  1  oz.  to 

tti  °*-V 

The  gods  of  '  concupisoence '  (kdmabhoffxn)  enjoy  sensuous 
pleasures:  but  there  is  a  progressive  refinement  in  their  food  (see 
C.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids,  Buddh.  Psych,  p.  197).  In  the  higherspheres 
the  sexual  act  is  accomplished  by  binding  (dhngana.  among  the 
ydmos)  by  Joining  hands  (pdnydpti,  among  the  tutiUu),  by 
smiling  [haetia,  among  the  nirmdndroris),  or  by  a  simple  look 
{iksita,  among  the  partLnirmitavcUapartini)  (see  A.K.V.  iii.  62, 
and  Georgi,  p.  483)  On  the  birth  of  the  gods,  who  do  not  come 
out  of  the  womb,  although  they  are  not  ' ajpparitjonal  beings' 
(tee  f  7)  see  Beal,  Catena,  pp.  74,  78,  and  cf .  Waddell,  Lamaism, 
p.  88. 

The  Poor  Kings  and  the  Thirty-three  are  well-known  in  the 
Brahmanieal  sources,  and  are  much  older  than  Buddhism. 
There  are  several  Brahmanieal  references  to  the  ydrruu 
(fusdmoj)  turitas,  mrmdnaratas  (Mahdbhdrata,  xiii.  18,  74 ; 
•ee  Burnouf,  lntrod.  p.  604  f  \  but  they  are  probably  borrowed 
from  Buddhism  (tuft/a  brahmaidyds). 

The  sextuple  division  of  the  gods  of  concupiscence  appears  in 
the  earliest  Buddhist  books,  e.g.  Majjhima,  U.  194,  iii.  100, 
Digha,  L  216 ;  and  the  length  of  the  lives  is  fixed  Just  as  in  the 
scholastic  era  ( Viiihanga,  p.  422)  But  lists  of  gods,  like  Digha, 
ii.  256  (six  series  of  ten  divine  groups,  kdyas\  seem  to  be  older 
than  this  sextuple  division  (see  reference  to  ydmas,  etc.,  on  p. 
281) 

7.  Heavens  of  the  material  world  (rupadhatu) 
or  Brahma-world. — Probably  the  most  ancient 
documents  on  divine  beings  superior  to  the  devcu 
properly  so-called,  to  the  gods  of  desire,  axe  Digha, 
L  17,  34,  195. '  The  following  is  a  summary.  Ac- 
cording to  the  '  names,  expressions,  tarns  of  speech, 
designations  in  common  use  in  the  world '  (the  in- 
difference of  Buddhists  to  what  is  not  the  way  of 
salvation  is  clearly  shown  in  these  precautions  of 
the  ancient  editor,  who  seems  to  have  been  conscious 
that  the  Buddha  regards  such  tilings  as  accessory 
and  on-sure),  there  are  three  classes  of  gods  (or  kinds 
•f  existence,  attabhava),  which  must  not  be  called 
by  each  other's  names,  viz.  (1)  *  divine,  having  form 
(or  material,  rfipi),  belonging  to  the  sensuous  (or 
sexual)  plan  (kamdvachara),  feeding  on  solid  food,' 
in  a  word,  *  solid  *  (oldrika),  '  formed  of  the  four 
great  elements ' ;  (2)  '  divine,  having  form,  made  of 
mind,  with  all  major  and  minor  links  complete, 
not  deficient  in  any  organs,'  in  a  word,  '  made  of 
mind'  (manomaya) ;'  (3)  immaterial  (formless), 
made  up  of  consciousness  (or  thought,  sanhd)  only. 

To  the  first  class  belong  the  six  categories  of 
gods  '  who  enjoy  pleasures '  ( kamabhuj),  the  Four 
Kings,  .  .  .  the  paranirmitavaiavartxns. 

We  must  now  consider  the  second  class,  rup&va- 
ehara,  01  gods  of  the  realm  of  matter,  of  whom 
Brahma  is  the  ancient  type  and  the  representative 
par  excellence  to  such  a  degree  that  the  '  world  of 
matter '  is  called  the  '  world  of  Brahma.'  The  gods 
here  are  born  wi  thou t  parents,  by  apparitional  birth 
(aupnpatilca) ;  they  are  not  immaterial,  but  their 
matter  is  subtle  (ruksma,  pranita),  for  they  feed  on 
joy  (pritibhaksa),  and  axe  luminous — the  same  as 
the  first  men  (see  art.  Ages  OF  the  World  [Bud- 
dhist], vol.  i.  p.  190*).  We  may  compare  the 
ribhus  of  Mahabhdrata,  iii.  15461 :  '  They  have 
divine  bodies,  and  not  material  forms'  (mgraha- 
murti).'  The  idea  of  the  progressive  refinement 
of  the  body  of  the  gods  is  old  (Satapathabrahmana, 
X.  i.  5.  4 ;  Taittirlya  Upanisaa,  ii.  1-5  [Kliys 
Davids,  Dialogues,  i.  48]) ;  and  with  the  Brfihmans 
the  worlds  of  Prajapati  (cf.  Majjhima,  i.  2)  and 

1  See  Rhys  Davids,  Dialogues,  1.  46,  259,  2S0  (line  2  to  be  read  : 
"The  second  has  form.'  .  .  .);  cf.  Sumahgalavildsini,  ad  loe. 

2  On  manomaya,  see  art.  Bodbisattva,  voL  ii  p.  742b,  note  8 ; 
also^.s-  r.  265. 

'  See  Fausboll,  Indian  Mythology,  p.  144. 


Brahma  were  placed  above  the  heavens  of  the 
karma-goda  (gods  owing  to  their  merit)  and  the 
birth-gods  (Taitt.  Up.  ii.  8  ;  Windisch,  Buddha's 
Geburt,  Leipzig,  1908,  p.  15).  Being  by  his  nature 
invisible  to  the  inferior  gods,  Brahma  creates  a 
'  solid '  body  for  himself  when  it  pleases  him  to 
show  himself  to  the  Thirty-three  (Digha,  ii.  210). 
In  this  respect  there  is  some  resemblance  between 
the  Kenopanisad  and  Digha,  i.  220.  The  connexion 
is  still  more  marked  with  Majjhima,  i.  330,  where 
Brahma  (thegod  Brahma  then  called  Baka, '  Heron ') 
tries  in  vain  to  disappear  from  the  eyes  of  Buddha ; 
he  was  more  successful  with  Varuna,  the  Vedio  god. 

The  text  which  we  have  quoted,  '  divine  .  .  .  with  all  major 
and  minor  limbs  complete'  (cf.  Majjhima,  ii.  17,  L  26),  is  clear 
enough  :  the  rupa-gods  possess  all  the  organs  of  the  body.  This 
opinion,  however,  came  to  be  regarded  as  almost  '  heretical '  by 
Pali  orthodoxy  as  well  as  by  Northern  orthodoxy  (see  Vi bhaixga, 
p.  418 :  Kathdvatthu,  viiL  7,  with  the  commentary,  and  A.K.  V . 
(Burn.  441)  Smell  (gandha)  and  taste  (rasa)  are  solid  food 
(kavadikdrdhdra),  ana  consequently  cannot  be  perceived  by  the 
gods  of  rupadhatu  ;  therefore  noses  and  tongues  are  useless  to 
them.  If  these  gods  possess  these  organs,  it  is  replied  that  it 
is  merely  for  reasons  of  beauty.  The  sexual  organ  is  of  no  use 
to  them,  and  it  would  detract  from  their  beauty  if  it  were  not 
hidden  as  it  was  in  the  body  of  Sakyamun!  (see  Suttanipdta, 
p.  99  =  SBE  x.  100,  and  elsewhere).  This  discussion,  which  we 
might  consider  rather  frivolous,  is  characteristic  of  a  part  erf 
scholastic  Buddhism ;  there  are  some  points  in  it  which  we  shall 
never  see  clearly,  and  about  which  the  Buddhists  themselves  art 
confused. 

The  Buddhists,  making  the  most  of  the  theory 
of  the  four  dhyanas  (jhanas, '  trances '),  have  estab- 
lished very  coherent  systems  on  the  hierarchy  of 
the  so-called  'material'  celestial  spheres.  The 
complete  table  is  as  follows: 

(i.)  Ftrst-tbance  heavens. — (1)  BrahmapcLr- 
sadyat  (or  "kayikas),1  retinue  of  Brahma ;  length 
of  life,  2J3  small  ages  of  the  world  (20  antarakalpat 
=  I  great  kalpa) ;  height,  J  league.  The  heaven  is 
situated  2,580,000  leagues  above  Jambudvipa,* 
and  is  1,290,000  leagues  broad.  These  numbers 
have  to  be  doubled  for  the  following  heavens. 
(2)  BrahmapSirohitat,  '  Brahma-chaplains ';  length 
of  life,  i  great  kalpa ;  height,  1  league.  (3)  Aland- 
brahmdnas,  'Great  Brahmas';  length  of  life,  J 
kalpa ;  height,  !  4  league.* 

The  common  opinion  is  that  there  are  as  many  stages  as  there 
are  classes  of  gods.  But  some  say  that '  Brahma  has  no  distinct 
abode  ;  only  in  the  middle  of  the  puroA  tr<i-heaven  there  is  a  high 
storeyed  tower,  aDd  this  is  the  abode  of  Brahma.'  Every  trance- 
heaven  has  a  king,  ministers,  and  people  (Beal,  Catena,  p.  95  ; 
cf.  Anguttara,  ii.  126,  where  Brahmasayisa  {life,  1  kalpa]  rs  the 
general  name  of  the  gods  of  the  first  trance)  Contrast  with  this 
Digha,  i.  216 :  the  retinue  of  the  great  Brahma  does  not  know 
1  where,  why,  whence  Brahma  is/  This  text  is  not  familiar  with 
purohitas.  On  the  other  hand,  according  to  A.K.  V.,  the  Kash- 
mlrians  do  not  distinguish  the  purohitas  from  the  great  Brahmas. 
It  will  be  noted  that  this  plural,  '  great  Brahmas,'  is  strange, 
because  there  cannot  be,  and  in  former  Buddhist  mythology 
there  was  not,  more  than  one  Brahma.  But  the  early  texts, 
when  mentioning  several  'pranomens*  of  different  Brahmas, 
probably  believed  to  belong  to  different  cosmoi  or  to  different 
ages  of  the  world,  have  opened  the  way  for  this  new  idea.  On 
different  rhuinrs  of  Brahmas,  see  below,  f  9. 

(ii)  Second-trance  heavens — (1)  Parittabha* 
('  Limited  splendour ') ;  length  of  life,  2  kalpas  ; 
height,  2  leagues.  These  figures  are  doubled  for 
the  next  five  classes.      (2)  Apramaiiabhas,   'Im- 

1  Mentioned  In  Sarfijmrto,  I.  145,  155.  The  Lalitavistara 
(p.  160)  draws  a  distinction  between  °kdyikas  and  °pdrfadyas 
(see  also  p.  44) 

•  According  to  Kalpadruma.  Feer  (A  MO  v.  535)  says  256,  i.e. 
double  the  height  of  the  heaven  of  the  paranirmitoraiiapartins. 

>  We  give  the  heights  and  lengths  of  life  according  to  the 
A.K.V.  'The  first  gods  of  the  rupa-world  are  J  yojana  in 
height ;  another  i  yojana  must  be  added  for  the  following 
classes,  and  one  must  double  from  tbepariltdMas.'  As  regards 
the  length  of  life,  the  Pali  sources  have  for  these  three  classes 
i,  ,,  and  1  kalpa  ( Vibhafiga,  p.  424  ;  Warren,  p.  290)  The  text 
quoted  in  the  commentary  to  Kathdratthu,  xi.  6,  however, 
assigns  a  kalpa  to  the  brahmakdyikat ;  but,  according  to 
Buddhaghosa,  it  refers  to  a  kappekadesa,  i.e.  a  portion  of  s 
kalpa.  The  Abhidharmakoia  has  J,  1,  14  kalpa  (see  Feer, 
AMG  v.  535);  but  its  commentary,  the  Vyakhya,  maintains 
that  kalpa  must  be  taken  to  mean  {  kalpa,  therefore  i.  ?.  3- 
It  refers  to  a  large  kalpa ;  but,  according  to  the  Kalpadruma, 
the  length  of  life  in  the  rupo-world  extends  from  a  small  kalpa 
(rs  of  a  large  kalpa)  to  16  small  kalpas. 


~M 


136 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Buddhist) 


measurable  splendour.'  (3)  2Lbhg.3va.ras  (Abhas- 
sard),  'Radiant.'1 

(iii.)  Third-trancb  heavens.— (1)  Parittasu- 
bhas,  'Limited  beauty.'  (2)  Apramdnahtbhas, 
'  Immeasurable  beauty.  (3)  Subhakrtsnas  (Subha- 
kinha, wrongly  Subhakinna),  '  Complete  beauty '? 
length  of  life,  64  kalpas,  i.e.  until  the  return  of  the 
destruction  of  the  cosmos  by  wind  (see  Agbs  OF 
the  Wokld  [Buddhist],  vol.  i.  p.  188) ;  height,  64 
leagues. 

(iv.) Fourth-trance  heavens.—  {1)  Anabhrakas 
('  Cloudless ') ;  125  kalpas  aud  leagues  (not  128, 
which  would  be  double  that  of  the  Subhakrtsnas) ; 
these  numbers  are  doubled  for  the  following 
classes.  (2)  Punyaprasavas,  '  Merit-born  '  (Tib. 
bsod-nams-skyes),  or  perhaps  '  Merit-begetting '  (?). 
(3)  Brhatphalas  ( Vehapphalas),  '  Abundant  fruit.'  * 
(4)-(8)  bear  the  generic  name  of  Suddhdvdsa, 
'Pure  abode,'  whence  Suddhav&sikas,  SuddhavS,- 
sakdyikas,  'inhabitants  of  the  Pure  abodes.'4  (4) 
Avfhas  (Avihas),  'Effortless'  (?)."  (5)  Atapas 
(atappa=atdpya),  'No  heat,'  'Cool  gods.'  (6) 
Sudrsas  (Sudassa),  'Beautiful.'  (7)  Sudariana 
(Sudassin),  'Well-seeing.'  (8)  Akanisfhas,  'Sub- 
lime' ( = '  not  youngest,' '  not  smallest'),  also  called 
(or  subordinated  to)  Aghanis(has,  'at  the  end 
(nis(ha)  of  the  compact '  (agha),  i.e.  '  at  the  top  or 
the  end  of  the  material  world '  j  °  length  of  life, 
16,000  kalpas ;  height,  16,000  leagues. 

The  total  number  of  '  places '  or  '  stages '  In  the  rfipa-world, 
therefore,  is  seventeen,  according  to  the  Abhidharmakoia  (iii. 
2) ;  the  Kashmlrians  suppress  one  of  them  (see  above,  p.  185b), 
The  Pall  tradition  of  Abhidharma  counts  only  sixteen  ;  It  hoe 
neither  the  Anabhrakas  nor  the  Punyaprasavas,  but  It  odds 
the  Asarhjflasattvas  (°devas,  '  unconscious  beings,'  '  gods ')  at 
follows :  Fookth  tranob.— <1)  AsaflRasattas,  (2)  Vehapphalas, 
(8)  Pure  abodes,  five  in  number.  [In  later  documents,  e.g.  in 
Abhidhammatlhasathgraha,  v.  2-6,  10,  tr.  Warren.  Buddhism, 
p.  289,  the  Asaflhasaltas  come  after  the  Vehapphalas ;  and  the 
some  arrangement  occurs  in  Northern  texts,  viz.  Lalitavistara, 
p.  160,  Dharmasahgraha,  fi  128 ;  Beal,  p.  85  (according  to  Dir- 
ghdgama  ?X  which  add  the  Asarhjnasattvas  to  the  list  of  the 

Lastly,  certain  souroes  place  the  heaven  of 
Mahamahesvara,  the  Great  Lord,  Siva,  above  the 
Akanisfhas — a  non-Buddhist  idea  borrowed  from 

1  Jbhassara  appears  In  several  early  texts,  not  as  the  name 
of  the  third  category  of  the  second  trance,  but  (1)  as  the  general 
name  of  the  gods  of  the  first  rank  (Samyutia,  t  114)  above 
Brahma  (cf.  the  gods  'of  beyond '  [loduttari]  In  Anguttara,  ill. 
287);  see,  e.g.,  Digha,  L  17 ;  Anguttara,  Iv.  69,  v.  60.  During 
(he  period  of  chaos  the  future  Buddha  dwells  among  the 
Abhossaras  (see  art.  Aqes  or  tui  Would  [Buddhist],  vol.  I.  p. 
190,  on  the  Buddhist  Genesis) ;  aud  (2)  as  the  general  name 
of  the  gods  of  the  second  trance  In  Anguttara,  u.  127  (life, 
2  kalpas). 

»  General  name  of  the  gods  of  the  third  trance  In  Anguttara, 
11. 127  (life,  4  kalpas).  In  li.  281  this  expression  means  'com- 
pletely happy ' ;  but  iulha  is  taken  to  mean  '  beauty '  in  A .K.  V. 
265a ;  Warren  translates  it '  lustrous.' 

*  General  name  of  the  gods  of  the  fourth  trance  In  Anguttara. 
11.  128  (life,  600  kalpas). 

*  Samyutta,  i.  26 ;  Majjhima,  L  82.  A  future  Buddha  la  never 
re-born  in  these  heavens,  which  are  reserved  for  the  An&gd- 
mine,  saints  who  obtain  nirvana  without  being  re-born  la  the 
world  of  men  (A.K.  V.  207b  :  JPTS,  1906,  p.  102). 

*  Tibetan  mi-che-ba.  "not  great'  (from  abrhat);  Chicago, 
according  to  Beal,  '  without  heat,'  and,  according  to  Eitel.  '  no 
thought/  These  gods  are  nauiedln&uni/ufta,  1.86,60;  Di  //.u,li  to. 

a  Lalitavutara,  44,  18  (niethagatlU  did  iaiiu/iniM  oAa) : 
ilahavyutpatti,  {  161 ;  Beal,  p.  86,  n.  10  J  Wogihara,  Asangai 
Bodh\mttmbhuml,  Leipzig,  1908,  p.  18,  who  quotes  A.K.V. 
Akanitfha  ajyestha,  *  neither  the  youngest  nor  the  oldest,*  is  on 
epithet  of  the  Maruts  (Rigveda,  v.  69.  6,  v.  60.  d).  The  .ltiiui- 
that  are  the  most  distinguished  gods,  panfiafara  'Digha,  U. 
286).  References  to  these  gods  are  comparatively  rare  In  the 
ancient  texts.  The  Saihyutla  uses  the  phrase  uddhaituota  .  .  , 
akanitf hagdmin, '  mounting  .  .  .  going  to  the  akanitlha.' 

1 1t  should  be  noticed  that  the  Vibhahga  (p.  426)  attributes 
the  eame  length  of  life  (600  kalpas)  to  the  AsaiMasattas  and  to 
the  Vehapphalas ;  and  Beal  (p.  96),  following  the  Vibhdsd 
(Sarvastivadin),  explains  that  the  heaven  of  the  Unconscious 
flike  the  world  of  Brahma)  is  inhabited  by  heretics.  By  all 
other  reports,  It  Is  similar  to  that  of  the  Brhatphalas.  We 
may,  therefore,  believe  that  the  Asarhjfiln  heaven  does  not 
form  a  separate  region,  bhumi  or  prade&a,  and  understand  why 
the  Abhiaharmakoia  is  not  concerned  with  It  in  its  nomencla- 
ture of  the  heavens  of  the  rupa-world.  On  the  Unconscious,  see 
esp.  Digha,  I.  28  ;  Rhys  Davids,  Dialogues,  L  41  note.  ii.  00: 
Eathdvatthu,  UL  11. 


Hinduism  (Mahdvyutpatti,  §  161;  Triglotte,  53; 
Remusat,  Fo-koue-ki,  p.  146).1 

We  shall  now  venture  to  moke  some  more  or  less  hypothetical 
remarks  on  the  origin  and  development  of  this  theological  cos- 
mology. It  la  probable  that  Brahma  was  at  first  regarded  as 
the  greatest  god  (see  Digha,  i.  222,  ii.  210),  and  his  name  has 
remained  attached  to  the  rupa-world  (see,  e.g. ,  Ind  e  x  3.  v. '  Visud* 
dhimagga,'  Warren-Lanroan,  Buddhism  in  Translations,  Cam- 
bridge, Mass.,  "1909,  Subhakinhabrahmaloka,  etc,  and  even 
Bupdrupabrahmaloka,  material  and  Immaterial  Bruhina- world). 
Scholars  have  established  a  hierarchy  of  beings  according  to 
vijfldnabthiti  (position  [r]  of  intellect)  (Digha,  ii.  69,  cf.  Angut' 
tara,  iv.  40) :  (l).£rahmukdyika,  (2)  Abhassara,  (3)  Subhakinha, 
and,  according  to  the  trance  (Anguttara,  ii.  120),  ...  (4)  Vehap< 
phala,  for  which  the  catalogues  of  'abodes  of  beings'  (satlva- 
vdsa)  have  (Anguttara,  iv.  401),  .  .  .  Aeartnasalta.     On  the 


ether  hand,  Majjhima,  i.  2,  enumerates  Pra.japati,  Brahma, 
Abhassara,  Subhakinha,  Vehapphala,  and  Abhlbnu.  To  get  a 
scheme  very  near  the  classical  (scholastic)  scheme,  the  classes 


of  Abba  and  Subha  had  to  be  formed  in  Imitation  of  the  classes 
of  Brahma  (p&rsadya,  purohita) ;  and  this  is  what  we  find  in 
Majjhima,  111.  102:  Parittabha,  Appamanabha,  Abhassara, 
Parittasubha,  eto.  The  Vehapphalas  of  Majjhima,  i  2,  are  kept, 
and  In  place  of  the  Abhibhus  are  put  four  categories :  Aviha 
.  .  .  Akanittha.  But  Digha,  ii.  62,  adds  the  fifth  category, 
Sadoesl  (SudarsanaX  It  Is  possible,  therefore,  to  follow  to  a 
certain  point  the  scholastic  work  which  has  amalgamated 
separate  traditions  aud  speculations;  from  an  epithet  lilts 
&bhdsvara  a  class  of  gods  was  made,  and  la  the  end  taxes 
classes  and  three  heavens  were  deduced  from  iu 

8.  Immaterial  sphere  (aripadhdtu,  drupya), — 
There  are  two  views  on  the  drtipya.  According 
to  the  first,  which  keeps  to  the  letter  of  tho  canoni- 
cal texts,'  the  drupya  is  not  part  of  the  receptacle- 
world;  it  contains  only  'spiritual'  beings,  free 
from  matter,  disembodied  intellects  (vijiiUna), 
consisting  in  thought  (saAMmaya).  When  the 
transmigrating  vij iidnas  are  re-born  (if  we  may  say 
so)  into  this  category,  they  create  the  intellectual 
apparatus  (nSman)  for  themselves,  bat  do  not 
accumulate  matter  (rupa),  or  organs  of  know- 
ledge (saddyatana). 

Instead  of  '  places/  the  UrUpya  presents  four 
'  aspects '  (dkdra),  according  to  the  state  of  the 
pure  intelligences  which  constitute  it  There  are 
(1)  the  realm  of  the  Infinity  of  space  (dkait'irumty 
dyatana),  (2)  the  realm  of  the  infinity  of  intellect 
(vijiidna"),  (3)  the  realm  of  nothingness  (akiihchani- 
y&yatana),  and  (4)  the  realm  of  neither  conscious- 
ness (or  notion)  nor  nut-consciousness  (naivasaih- 
jil&n&tamjil&yatana),*  according  to  the  kind  of 
meditation  in  which  the  mind  finds  itself  absorbed 
for  20,000,  40,000,  60,000,  and  80,000  'great 
kalpas.'* 

The  first  three  realms  are  vijMnaith  itis*  (Digha, 
ii.  69  ;  Anguttara,  iv.  40),  'meditations  on  which 
intellect  {vijiiaiia)  dwells  [sthiti)' — an  intellect 
which  has  in  this  world  been  absorbed  in  one  of 
tho  meditations,  '  space  is  infinite,' '  intellect  is  in- 
finite,'* 'there  is  nothing,'  and  finds  itself,  for 
countless  centuries,  in  the  eame  meditation- -and 
vijMnasthitis  only,  for  intellect  is  disincartiated 
aud  without  any  relations  to  matter  (rupa).  Like 
the  Asai\jiUlsattvast  '  Unconscious,  the  fourth 
'realm*  is  not  a  vijR&ncuthiti,  but  s>  tattv&v&sa, 
'  dwelling-place  of  beings,'  or  on  dyatana,  '  place, 
for  it  does  not  include  attachment  to  (or  dwelling 
of  intellect  upon)  any  kind  of  existence,  being 
established  on  an  absolute  indiffcrunce  (upe£xd). 

>  See  also  Lalitavistara,  p.  4,  L  12.  S.  It,  42.  12,  111  S,  etc. 

>  This  is  the  orthodox  ihtory  (Viihanga,  pp.  158,  419;  Eathi. 
vatthu  vlii.  8;  Abhulhannakvia,  ilL  3,  wilb  oiauo.  ttis, 
264  a,  Chaudrakirtl's  Pahchtukandhaprakarana). 

8  This  is  the  'summit  of  txtstom* *  (bfiacAgra).'  It  will  be 
seen  (Waddell,  Laiuuunt,  p.  86,  and  art.  Amct'oimi,  vol.  t  p. 
94b,  Inaccurate)  that  iho  Akatiifthaehavan*  has  been  placed 
above  the  immaterial  heavens  to  serve  as  a  dwelling-place  for 
Adlbuddha. 

4  The  numbers  are  already  given  lu  A  Aputtqra,  L  897,  but 
there  they  refer  to  kalpas  without  tho  cpitiiet '  great.' 

ft  See  Childcrs,  Did.  p.  679  ;  Dialo<rues,  u.  60. 

•  It  Is  very  difficult  to  form  an  exact  idea  of  these  meditations 
or  concentrations  (riiimv/'utri),  especially  of  ths  second.  Is  it 
the  eaiue  as  the  contemplation  of '  the  invisible,  infinite  Uiought ' 
(pinfitfna)  of  Majjhima,  I.  829?  This  would  be  a  doctrine  sin. liar 
to  the  Vedanla  and  tho  I'cadcAdra.  See  Compen*Uu.m(rTS, 
1P10X  p.  64.  It  is  well  known  that  these  'concentrations'  or* 
given  by  Buddhist  tradition  as  previous  to  Saayamuiu  (s.g. 
Majjhima,  I.  164  ;  Warren,  p.  885). 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Buddhist) 


137 


But  we  must  not  regard  the  double  negation 
*  neither  consciousness  .  .  . '  as  an  absolute  negation 
of  consciousness  ;  thought  (cAttta)  and  its  derivatives 
{ckaitta)  remain,  although  in  a  very  attenuated 
state.1  In  fact,  if  thought  happened  to  cease  in 
these  immaterial  existences,  the  result  would  be 
nirvana;  and  we  know  (Anguttara,  i.  267)  that 
'non-converted'  persons  {prthagjana)  may  reach 
them  without  being  worthy  of  nirvana,  without 
being  free  from  the  danger  of  falling  back  again 
into  hell  or  among  the  pretax. 

Several  schools  maintain  the  existence  of  'matter'  In  the 
1  Immaterial  World.'  This  refers  to  a  '  fine  or  attenuated  form 
of  matter,'  according  to  the  Mahdsdihghikas,  but  auch  that  it 
includes  the  five  kinds  of  perceptible  knowledge  ^vijfldna- 
kdyas).2  The  syllable  d  of  drupya ,  '  formlessness  *  (which  is  the 
vrddhi.  Initial  emphasis,  of  the  abstract  word  derived  from 
drupa,  'formless'),  is  explained  as  a  diminutive  (isadarthe). 
An  argument  in  favour  of  this  opinion  is  that  the  intellect 
{viptdna)  needs  a  material  support  (d^raya),  and  this  support 
must  be  the  special '  matter'  called  hrdayavastu,  '  heart-thing" 
(according  to  the  A.K.  V.  the  opinion  of  the  Tamraparuiyas,  i.e. 
the  Buddhistsof  Taprobane,  the  Sinhalese).3  Another  argument 
is  that,  according  to  the  formula  of  'dependent  origination' 
name  (intellectual  data)  and  matter  (rupa)  proceed  from 
vijndna.* 

9.  Cosmic  systems,  chiliocosms. — It  is  possible 
that  the  most  ancient  Buddhist  cosmology  did  not 
imagine  anything  but  the  ( small  universe,'  the 
chakravdla  properly  speaking ;  but,  in  documents 
which  appear  to  be  very  archaic  (agreeing,  in  fact, 
with  what  we  believe  we  know  of  the  teaching  of 
the  Buddha),  the  notion  of  the  infinity  of  the 
world  is  stated— from  which  arises  that  of  the 
existence  of  other  universes  (lokadhdtu)  or  cha- 
hravdlas  similar  to  ours;6  and  in  the  A  hguttara 
(L  227)  we  find  great  combinations  of  '  thousands 
of  universes/  which  will  remain  the  basis  of  the 
'great  cosmology,'  if  we  may  thus  express  it, 
namely:  (1)  A  system  of  a  thousand  universes, 
'small  chiliocesm,'  aahassi  chu\anikd  lokadhatu* 
or  sahassadhd  loka  (ib.  v.  59) ;  (2)  a  system  of  a 
million  universes,  a  thousand  (  small  chiliocosms' ; 
this  is  the  '  middle  chiliocosm,'  dvisahassi  majjhi- 
mikd  lokadhatu  ('  two-thousandth  middle  uni- 
verse *) ;  and  (3)  a  system  of  a  thousand  million 
universes,  '  great  chiliocosm,'  or  '  three-thousandth 
great-thousandth  universe/  tisahassi  mahasahassi 
lokadhatu.'1 

1  8ee\Kathdratthu,  iiL  12 ;  Beat,  Catena,  p.  91 ;  O.  A.  F.  Rhy8 
Davids,  Buddh.  Psych,  p.  74  f.  ;  Saihgitisutta  (Digha,  Jtxxiii.), 
In  Burnouf,  Lotus,  p.  809  ;  Anguttara,  v.  7,  318. 

3  See  Beal,  Catena,  pp.  92,  104  :  WassiliefT,  Buddhismus,  1860, 
p.  237  (261). 

*  See  A.K.V.  (Burn.  28*),  cited  In  Burnouf,  Lotus,  p.  613  (cf. 
WaJIeser,  Phil.  Gru-ndlaqc  des  alter  en  Buddhismus,  Heidelberg, 
1904,  p.  106).  On  the  hadayavatthu,  '  basis '  or  *  site,'  of  the 
tensonum  commune  (manas).  see  C.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids,  op.  rit. 
p.  129,  note  ;  cf.  p.  173  and  index :  JPTS,  1884,  p.  28  ;  Visud- 
dhimagga,  JPTS.  1891,  p.  124,  and  Burnouf,  Introduction,  p. 
669 ;  the  role  of  the  heart  in  the  ancient  Hindu  philosophy  is 
well  known  (Bohtlingk-Roth,  s.v.  '  Dhatu,'  p.  »34»>). 

*  KathdvatUiu,  viu.  8 :  cf.  Warren,  Buddhism,  p.  178,  L  15, 
and  see  also  Saihyutta,  iii.  63. 

•  The  Brdhmanas  admit  the  infinity  of  the  world  upwards  and 
■Meways  (see  Panchaviihsabrdhmana,  xviil.  6,  2,  in  Hopkins, 
'Gods  and  Saints  of  the  Great  Brahmana,'  Trans.  Connecticut 
Acad.  xv.  26,  July  1909).  The  theory  that  the  world  is  infinite 
across,  and  finite  In  upward  and  downward  directions,  is  con- 
demned In  Digha,  L  23  (Rhys  Davids.  Dialogues,  1.  86;  see 
Agnosticism  [Buddhist],  vol.  i.  p.  224",  note).  A  tradition 
which  was  long  in  being  attested  (Atthamlini,  §  374,  quoted  in 
Burnouf,  Lotus,  p.  844,  wanting  in  the  '  Chapter  of,  the  Fours' 
of  the  Anguttara,  as  Rhys  Davids  remarks,  loc.  tit.)  states  that 
four  thinge  are  infinite  :  space,  the  number  of  universes,  the 
number  of  living  beings,  and  the  wisdom  of  a  Buddha. 

•  Lokadhatu,  masc.  in  Mahdvastu,  L  40,  7,  and  Siksasa- 
muchchaya,  p.  246;  fern,  in  Pali,  Mahdvastu,  ii.  300,  16, 
Karundpundarika,  p.  4,  etc.  The  word  sukhdvati,  'the 
happy'  (see  Blest,  Abods  op  the  [Bud.],  vol.  ii.  p.  6S8b),  must 
be  understood  as  sukhdvati  lokadhatu,  '  the  happy  world,'  and 
not  as  sukhdvati  bkumi,  '  the  happy  earth  or  storey.' 

7  The  Skr.  forms  in  Mahdvyutpatti,  §  153,  Bodhicharydvatd- 
rapafljikd,  ad  ii.  14 ;  sdhasrai  chudiko  lokadhdtuh  ;  dvisdhasro 
madhyamo .  . .  ;  trisdhasramahdsdhasro. .  . .  There  are  variants 
In  Mahdvastu  and  elsewhere  (trisdhasrd  .  .  .).  See  Lefmann, 
Lalitavistara  ubersetzt,  Berlin,  1874,  p.  208.  Chu4ika,  chutika 
(Pili-Prakrit  chula,  chu{a,  '  small,'  cf.  Skr.  ksulla)  is  traced  to 
eAuda,  'top,'  'crest '(tuft  left  on  the  head  after  tonsure),  but 
•ee  Saddharmapxtndarika,  p.  327  (ksudrakalokadhdtu). 


The  traditional  meaning  of  the  words  dvisahassi,  tisahassi, 
seems  to  be  quite  clear.  The  Anguttara  says  that  the  dvisahassi 
=  1000  sahassi,  and  the  tisahassi  =1000  dvisahassi.  Dvi  and  ti 
are  exponents,  not  multipliers.  We  find  1000,  100O2,  1000». 
Schmidt's  interpretation,  'das  grosseTausend  der3000  Welten.' 
is  wrong ;  and  fcoppen  (Buddhismus,  ii.  337)  is  also  inexact,  if 
we  can  trust  the  Anguttara  and  the  Abhidharmakos'a.  But  it 
must  be  remembered  that  the  universes  appear  grouped  in 
triads  in  order  to  form  the  hell  of  'intramundane  darkness' — 
which  Justifies  the  number  3000.  But  in  the  multiplication  of 
1000  by  1000  there  are  other  differences  which  strike  scholars: 
'The  holy  words  of  Buddha  cannot  be  iu  disagreement;  how 
Is  it  then  that  there  are  so  many  differences  m  the  accounts 
found  in  the  sutras  and  treatises  (Abhidharmas'dstras)l  For 
Instance,  In  regard  to  the  number  of  mountains  called  Sumeru 
(there  is  a  Meru  is  each  small,  universe,  chakravdla  [see  above, 
p.  131]),  if  we  rely  on  the  Agamas  (=»Pali  nikdya,  'canonic 
collection*)  and  the  KoHa,  each  great  chiliocosm  has  one 
thousand  million,  whereas  the  Suvarnaprabhdsa  and  the 
Avatarnsaka  (Great  Vehicle)  say  there  are  only  ten  millions. 
Then  with  regard  to  the  various  measurements  and  the  contra- 
dictory statements  relating  to  the  number  of  the  rupa- heavens.1 
how  are  these  differences  to  be  accounted  f or  ?  ' a 

In  order  to  establish  a  sort  of  coherence  among 
these  multiplications  of  universes  and  on  account 
of  theories  on  the  more  or  less  complete  destruc- 
tions of  the  world,  the  following  arrangement  has 
been  imagined  : — 

One  thousand  chakravdlas  make  a  small  chiliocosm,  with 
4000  continents,  1000  Merus,  and  1000  heavens  of  Brahma-gods 
(gods  of  the  first  trance).  This  small  chiliocosm  is  surrounded 
by  a  mountain  which  separates  it  from  the  neighbouring 
small  chiliocosms ;  and  there  is  by  way  of  a  roof,  so  to  speak, 
a  heaven  of  gods  of  the  second  trance.  The  middle  chiliocosm 
includes  1000  heavens  of  this  6econd  trance,  with  as  many  small 
chiliocosms  beneath  them  ;  the  walls  reach  up  to  the  third 
trance  ;  it  is  covered  by  a  heaven  of  the  third  trance.  The 
great  chiliocosm  comprises  1000  heavens  of  this  trance,  and  is 
crowned  with  a  heaven  of  the  fourth. 

The  documents  which  show  this  superimposing 
do  not  seem  to  be  very  old  (Koppen,  i.  236 ; 
Remusat,  Melanges  posthumes,  p.  94  ;  but  Beal,  p. 
103,  cites  the  VibhdsdJdstra).  The  Lalitavistara 
(p.  150)  certainly  does  not  know  it,  for  it  informs 
us  that  the  great  chiliocosm  contains  a  thousand 
million  (100  kotis)  heavens  of  each  kind. 

We  must  point  out  a  certain  number  of  cosmic  multiplications 
which  are  independent  of  and  probably  previous  to  the  chilio- 
cosmic  conception ;  e.g.  Mahdvagga,  i.  6,  81  (Jdtaka,  I.  63), 
ayarh  dasasahassi  lokadhdtu  (where  the  reference  is  to  10,000 
worlds  and  not  to  10001°  worlds) ;  Digha,  Ii.  139,  where  the 
gods  of  ten  universes  (dasasu  lokadhdtusu)g&ther  together  to 
be  present  at  the  death  of  the  Buddha.  There  are  different 
kinds  of  Brahma-gods;  in  Digha,  ii.  261,  Mahabrahma,  'the 
great  Brahma(r  reigns  over  1000  Brahma-worlds  ;  Majjhima,  iii. 
101,  distinguishes  between  a  Sahasso  brahmd,  '  thousandth 
Brahma,'  governing  a  sahassi  lokadhdtu  (cf.  Anguttara,  i.  277>, 
a  Dvisahasso  .  .  .  and  a  Dasasahasso  (10,nooth -Brahma), 
governing  a  dasasahassi  lokadhdtu  (cf.  Samyutta,  I.  146).  See 
Yisuddhvmagga,  xiil.  (Warren,  p.  32i  ;  S.  Hardy,  Manual,  p.  21; 
Burobuf,  Lotus,  p.  863)  on  the  three  'fields'  or  'domains' 
(ksetra)  of  a  Buddha  :  '  Birth-domain  (janma0)  comprises  10,000 
worlds  ;  all  tremble  at  different  moments  in  the  life  of  a  Buddha 
(cf.  Mahdvagga,  1.  6,  81).  Authority-domain  (djfld)  comprises  a 
hundred  thousand  times  ten  millions  of  worlds  (  =  100  great 
chiliocosms);  over  all  extends  the  protecting  power  of  the 
"formula  of  protection"  (the  so-called  parittas)  given  by  the 
Buddha.  Knowledge-domain  (jndna0)  is  without  limit.'  The 
Mahdvastu  mentions  a  buddhaksetra  equal  to  61  great  chilio* 
cosms,  and  an  upaksetra  equal  to  244  great  chiliocosms  (i.  121, 
cf.  pp.  xxxii  and  471,  and  iii.  341).  In  the  later  literature 
'  great  chiliocosm  '  and  buddhaksetra  are,  as  a  rule,  Bynonymous 
(cf.  Anguttara,  i.  228). 

The  chiliocosm  did  not  satisfy  the  Buddhist 
imagination.  The  Mahdvastu  (l.  122)  and  the 
Mahdydnasutras  consider  that  the  number  of 
chiliocosms,  or  ■  fields  of  Buddha,'  is  infinite  in 
every  direction  (e.g.  Lotus,  xi.  ;  SBE  xxi.  232), 
and  there  are  quoted,  by  the  dozen,  names  of 
these  'great  universes- (e.g.  Karundpundarika) ; 
and  in  the  Avatarnsaka  we  get  a  systematic  ar- 
rangement of  these  chiliocosms. 

On  whirlwinds  rests  the  Fragrant  Ocean,  which  carries  an 
Infinite  number  of  world-germs  (lokabija  [?]);  from  it  there 
issue  lotuses  infinite  in  number — very  far  removed,  indeed, 
from  each  other.  From  each  of  these  lotuses  is  born  a  universe 
(great  chiliocosm),  above  which  (separated  by  whirlwinds) 
there  are  three,  then  five,  and  so  on  up  to  the  twentieth  tier, 
where  there  are  39  great  chiHocosmB.  We  are  not  told  whether 
this  development  of  a  '  world-germ '  is  in  the  form  of  a  tranche 
or  of  a  fan,  or  whether  it  is  to  be  understood  aB  an  inverted 

1  The  text  says  arupd -heavens.  This  must  be  a  mistake  (ie« 
above,  p.  136). 

2  Shou-lun,  tr.  In  Beal,  Catena,  p.  103. 


138 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Chinese) 


pyramid  (1,  3*,  53,  .  .  .  3D2).  But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  learn 
that  the  universe  in  which  we  are,  the  Sanalokadhdtu,'  forms 
part  of  the  thirteenth  stage,  and  constitutes  the  '  field'  of  the 
Buddha  Valroohana  (see  art.  ADiBUDDHi,  vol.  1.  p.  99»  note  II), 
and  that,  on  the  same  level  at  the  saine  Btage,  in  the  extreme 
west,  is  the  blessed  universe  of  the  Buddha  Ainiuhha,  the 
SuJchtivaii,  where  a  kalpa  of  our  universe  is  eoual  to  a  day  and 
a  muni  (see  art.  lii.nar,  Aboua  or  Tua  [Buddhist],  vol.  11.  p. 
6S8b).'J 

Litkratuiib.— See  preliminary  note  3  on  p.  130  f.,  and  p.  131*, 
note  4,  and  works  mentioned  throughout  the  article.  See  also 
the  tr.  of  the  Abhidhainmasai'tyalta  by  Shlvo  Zan  Aung  and 
C.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids  under  the  title  Compendium  of  P Kilo- 
tophy  (PTS,  London,  1910),  the  tr.  of  Diana,  II.,  by  T.  W.  and 
C.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids,  Dialogues  of  (As  liuddha,  II.  (Oxford, 
1910).  Reference  must  also  be  made  to  Maujughoaahft- 
savajra's  Siddhanta,  i.  fol.  223-248. 

L.  DE  LA  VALLEK  POUSSIN. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Celtio). 

— We  do  not  know  the  ancient  Celtic  ideas  with 
respect  to  the  origin  of  the  world.  According  to 
Strabo  (IV.  iv.  4),  the  Druids,  as  well  as  others, 
said  that  the  soul  and  the  world  were  immortal, 
and  that  one  day  fire  and  water  would  prevail.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  Celts  of  the  Adriatic  said  to 
Alexander :  '  We  fear  only  one  thing,  and  that 
is  that  the  sky  may  fall  on  us '  (Strabo,  VII.  iii.  8). 
This  belief  in  the  fall  of  the  sky  is  seen  frequently 
in  the  oaths  of  Irish  epic  poetry.  In  a  note  on 
the  hymn  of  Ultan  (verse  9)  mention  is  made  of 
the  two  pillars  of  the  sky. 

These  confused  and  contradictory  ideas  do  not 
enable  us  to  re-construct  Celtic  cosmology.  It 
would  be  dangerous,  besides,  to  look  for  this 
cosmology  in  the  Christian  legends  of  the  Irish 
Middle  Ages,  or  in  the  so-called  secrets  of  the  bards 
of  the  Island  of  Britain,  or  in  the  oral  traditions 
of  Armorican  Brittany ;  for  the  elements  con- 
tained in  these  different  sources  are  either  foreign  or 
modern  in  origin.  See  also  art.  CELTS,  vol.  iii.  p.  298. 

Litkraturb.— Roget  de  Belloguet,  Ethnoginie  gauloise, 
Paris,  1861-76,  iii.  137  ;  C.  Jullian,  Histoire  de  la  Gaule,  Paris, 
1907,  i.  360,  ii.  126,  176  ;  H.  Gaidoz  in  Zeitlchrift  fur  celtische 
Philoiogie,  1897-1901,  i.  27  f.  G.   DOTTIN. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY 

(Chinese).— Chinese  theories  of  cosmogony  and 
cosmology  may  be  said  to  be  of  comparatively 
modern  date.  They  profess,  however,  to  be  based 
on  a  system  which  claims  an  almost  immemorial 
antiquity,  i.e.  the  8  trigrams,  which  are  usually 
attributed  to  Fu-hsi  (2852  B.C.),  though  somewhat 
contradictory  accounts  are  given  as  to  their  ulti- 
auate  origin.  These  figures  were  intended  to 
repiwbeui  the  stalks  of  the  milfoil  (Ptarmica 
sioirica),  wnich  were  employed  by  diviners  in  close 
association  with  the  lines  which  were  produced  on 
the  shell  of  the  tortoise,  as  described  in  art.  COM- 
MUNION with  the  Dead  (Chinese),  vol.  iii.  p.  731b. 
The  stalks  were  divided  into  longer  and  shorter 
lengths,  and  the  order  in  which  they  were  drawn 
ana  disposed,  in  varying  combinations  of  long  and 
short  or  '  strong '  and  '  weak '  lines,  was  interpreted 

1  This  expression  seems  to  denote  a  great  chiiiocosm,  but  it  is 
certain  that  its  natural  meaning  should  be  the  small  universe, 
the  chakravdla  in  which  we  live.  Saha  is  an  adjective ;  we 
find  a  fein.  form  Bah*  (Mahdvyutpalti,  §  164,  21 ;  Divydvaddna, 

?.  293,  19  ;  Mahdvaetu,  ii.  379,  21 ;  Lankdvaldra,  in  Burnout, 
ntroduction,  p.  696  ;  Earundpui}darika>  p.  119 ;  Wilson,  ii. 
82  ;  and  probably  Hdjatarafigini,  I.  172,  where  A.  Stein  reads 
main),  and  more  rarely  the  masc  formsana(Trig]otte,  §  46,  and 
tahalvkandtha,  in  Mahdvastu,  ii.  386).  This  expression,  which 
has  been  translated   'enduring,'   'suffering,' or   'supporting* 

ifrom  root  sah),  iB  not  clear.  The  Tibetan  mi  mjed  or  mjed  (see 
taschke,  Tib.  Vict.,  London,  1881,  p.  174)  does  not  shed  any  light 
on  the  question,  and  the  designation  of  Brahma  as  Sahdmpati 
(Sahdpati)  remains  obscure  (Burnout,  Introduction,  p.  694 ; 
Beal,  CaKna,  p.  16 ;  Eitel,  Handbook,  p.  134). 

2  The  present  sources  are  Remusat,  Melanges  posthumee,  p. 
06  ;  Beal,  Catena,  p.  121.  The  two  authors  differ  on  many 
points ;  e.g.  Beal  regards  Sand  as  the  name  of  the  whole 
thirteenth  stage.  Between  the  Sahd  (centre  of  this  stage)  and 
the  Sukhdvali  (regarded  not  as  a  chiiiocosm  but  as  a  privileged 
chakravdla,  with  no  hell,  and  no  cosmic  mountains),  there  are 
10,000,000,000  universes.  The  original  source  is  tl)e  Avatamsaka 
— a  word  which  denotes  a  part  of  the  Chinese  canon  of  the  Great 
Vehicle  (Nanjio,  Catal.,  1883,  p.  32fl.,  on  which  see  Taranatha, 
p.  63,  and  Wassilieff,  Buddhismus,  esp.  p.  167  [171]  f.). 


in  accordance  with  the  arbitrary  methods  whi<;h 
prevailed  from  time  to  time,  but  of  which  the 
details  have  not  been  handed  down.  It  may,  how- 
ever, safely  be  assumed  that  the  function  of  the 
trigrams  was  limited  to  questions  of  tribal  or 
domestic  interest,  and  that  nothing  of  a  theological 
or  cosmological  character  was  attached  to  them. 
The  trigrams  were  arranged  in  8  groups  thai  : 


A  new  arrangement  was  invented  by  Si-peh 
(1231-1135  B.C.),  during  his  two  years'  imprison- 
ment at  the  hands  of  the  ruler  of  the  Yin  dynasty, 
and  it  is  probable  that  to  him  is  also  due  the 
combination  of  the  original  8  trigrams  to  form  the 
64  hexagrams  which  are  the  basis  of  the  Yi-king, 
or  Canon  of  Permutations,  commonly  known  as 
the  Book  of  Changes. 

Si-peh,  afterwards  canonized  as  W6n-wang 
( =  King  Wen),  appended  to  each  of  the  hexagrams 
an  explanatory  outline,  giving  the  general  sense 
supposed  to  be  conveyed  by  the  figure,  but  his  son 
Tan,  better  known  as  Chow-kung  (Duke  of  Chow), 
added  an  analysis,  showing  how  each  line  of  the 
hexagram  was  to  be  interpreted  so  as  to  contribute 
to  the  general  conclusion  which  his  father  had 
established.  The  deductions  of  King  Wen,  with 
the  analyses  of  the  Duke  of  Chow,  form  the  text 
of  the  Yi-king.  Throughout  the  64  chapters  of 
the  original  work  there  is  nothing  whatever  of  a 
cosmological  character ;  the  compilers  were  entirely 
occupied  with  political  and  personal  matters,  en- 
deavouring to  learn  from  the  omens  furnished  by 
the  stalks  and  their  representative  symbols  the 
probable  results  of  certain  courses  of  conduct 
which  were  in  contemplation.  The  harmless 
trifling,  as  it  seemed  to  his  jailers,  with  which 
the  prisoner,  Si-peh,  employed  his  leisure,  was  in 
reality  a  means  by  which  he  was  able  to  develop 
his  revolutionary  schemes  without  let  or  hindrance  j 
none  but  himself  knew  the  significance  attaching 
to  the  harmless  straws  with  which  ha  amused 
himself ;  and  when,  in  course  of  time,  his  liberty 
was  restored,  he  was  enabled  to  consummate  his 
schemes  with  complete  success. 

A  new  element  is,  however,  introduced  in  the 
10  Appendixes  to  the  Yi-king  which  bear  the 
imprimatur  of  Confucius,  though  it  seems  probable 
that  only  the  first  and  second  are  properly  attri- 
buted to  him.  To  Confucius  it  seemed  inevitable 
that  the  thought  which  had  been  expended  upon 
the  hexagrams,  by  sages  so  eminent  as  Si-peh  and 
his  son,  could  not  fau  to  be  of  permanent  value, 
and  that,  though  the  political  conditions  which 
had  first  inspired  their  studies  no  longer  existed,  the 
lessons  which  they  contributed  might  be  applied 
with  equal  value  to  the  troublous  circumstances 
of  his  own  times.  Hence  Confucius,  in  later  life, 
devoted  a  great  deal  of  attention  to  the  study  of 
the  Yi-king,  frankly  acknowledging  the  difficulty 
he  experienced  in  the  interpretation  of  its  cryptic 
phraseology,  and  in  adapting  its  lessons  to  his  own 
enlarged  conception  of  the  scope  of  the  work. 
Later  commentators,  building  upon  the  theory 
that  the  three  lines  of  the  early  trigrams  represent 
the  three  powers — Heaven,  Earth,  and  Man — 
attempt  to  transfer  the  lessons  of  the  figures  from 
the  smaller  stage  of  human  affairs  to  the  larger 
theatre  of  universal  Nature.  In  the  Appendixes, 
therefore,  we  discover,  in  an  ever-ascending  scale, 
the  application  of  the  hexagrams  to  the  constitution 
and  course  of  Nature,  the  later  chapters  furnishing 
some  of  the  material  out  of  which  Cnu-hsi  (Chucius, 
A.D.  1130-1200)  developed  his  scheme  of  cosmogony 
and  cosmology,  which  now  represents  modern 
Chinese  philosophic  thbught  on  the  subject. 

A  word  of  explanation  may  here  be  necessary  in 
order  to  show  the  mechanism  of  the  developed 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Chinese) 


139 


system  of  the  Yi-king.  Each  trigram  bears  a  dis- 
tinctive name,  as  well  as  a  local  habitation  or 
direction,  together  with  a  natural  affinity,  quality, 
etc.  Thus  the  6th  group,  as  arranged  by  Si-pen, 
originally  the  first  group  according  to  the  earlier 
system,  consisting  of  3  unbroken  or  'strong'  lines, 
is  denominated  tc'ien,  which  means  'untiring,' 
'strength,' etc.,  and  represents  Heaven,  a  sovereign, 
a  father,  etc.  Its  locality  or  direction  is  north- 
west;  its  affinity,  ether ;  its  quality,  humidity,  etc. 

The  hexagrams  are  formed  by  the  combination 
of  2  trigrams,  and  also  have  distinctive  names. 
Each  line  bears  a  certain  relation  to  the  other 
lines ;  thus  the  first  or  bottom  line  in  the  lower 
trigram  is  related  to  the  first  line  of  the  npper 
trigram,  i.e.  to  the  4th  line  of  the  hexagram.  The 
position  of  the  various  lines  is  a  most  important 
consideration — sometimes  a  '  strong '  line  is  found 
in  a  '  weak '  place,  and  vice  versa. 

An  illustration  from  Legge's  Yi-king  (SBE,  xvi. 
71)  may  serve  to  indicate  the  method  of  inter- 
pretation.    The  7th  hexagram,   known  as  tze,  is 


written  thus : 


consisting  of  the  2  tri- 


grams k'&n _,  representing  water,  and  kw'un 

— .   representing    earth,   suggesting,   by   the 

combination,  waters  collected  on  the  earth,  or,  in 
the  language  of  the  diviner,  multitudes  of  people 
mustering  for  purposes  of  defence  or  attack.  The 
'strong'  or  undivided  line  occupies  the  most  im- 
portant place  in  the  inner  or  lower  trigram,  i.e. 
the  middle,  second  only  to  the  middle  place  in  the 
outer,  or  npper,  trigram,  which  is  the  paramount 
position  in  the  whole  figure.  The  '  strong '  line, 
therefore,  occupying  a  secondary  position,  must 
stand  for  the  leader  of  the  host ;  were  he  to  occupy 
the  highest  position,  i.e.  the  5th  line  from  the 
bottom — the  middle  line  of  the  upper  trigram — he 
would  represent  the  sovereign.  These,  of  course, 
are  perfectly  arbitrary  preconceptions. 

The  Duke  of  Chow  thus  interprets  the  figure :  '  The  first 
line  (reckoning  from  below),  divided,  showB  the  host  going 
forth  According  to  the  rules  (for  such  a  movement).  If  these 
/rules)  be  not  good,  there  will  be  evil."  Legge  adds  :  "The  Hue 
Is  divided,  a  weak  line  in  a  strong  place,  not  correct ;  this 
Justifies  the  caution  which  follows.' 

'The  second  line,  undivided,  shows  (the  leader)  In  the  midst 
of  the  hosts.  There  will  be  good  fortune  and  no  error.  The 
king  has  thrice  conveyed  to  him  his  charge.' 

•The  third  line,  divided,  shows  how  the  hosts  may  possibly 
have  many  commanders  ;  (In  such  a  case)  there  will  be  evil. ' 
Legge  explains :  '  The  third  place  is  odd,  and  should  be  occupied 
by  a  strong  line.  Instead  of  which  we  have  a  weak  line  In  it. 
But  it  is  at  the  top  of  the  lower  trigram,  and  its  subject  should 
be  in  office  or  activity.  There  is  suggested  the  Idea  that  its 
■object  has  vaulted  over  the  second  line,  and  wishes  to  share 
In  the  command  and  honour  of  him  who  haB  been  appointed  to 
be  commander-in-chief.  The  lesson  of  the  previous  line  is  made 
of  none  effect.  We  have  a  divided  authority  in  the  expedition. 
The  result  can  only  be  evD.' 

'  The  fourth  line,  divided,  shows  the  hosts  in  retreat :  there 
Is  no  error.'  Legge  comments  thus :  '  The  line  is  also  weak, 
and  victory  cannot  be  expected  ;  but  in  the  fourth  place  a  weak 
line  is  in  its  correct  position,  and  its  subject  will  do  what  Is 
right  In  his  circumstances.'  He  will  retreat,  and  a  retreat  is  for 
him  the  part  of  wisdom.' 

"The  fifth  line,  divided,  shows  birds  in  the  fields,  which  It  Is 
advantageous  to  seize  (and  destroy).  There  will  be  no  error. 
If  the  oldest  son  lead  the  host,  and  younger  men  be  (also)  In 
commnnd,  however  firm  and  correct  be  may  be,  there  will  be 
evil.'  Legge  interprets  the  Duke's  findings  thus  :  '  We  have  an 
Intimation  [in  this  passage]  .  .  .  that  only  defensive  war,  or 
war  waged  by  the  rightful  authority  to  put  down  rebellion  and 
lawlessness,  Is  right.  "The  birds  in  the  fields  " are  emblematic 
of  plunderers  and  invaders,  whom  it  will  be  well  to  destroy. 
The  fifth  line  symbolizes  the  chief  authority,  but  here  he  Is 
weak  or  humble,  and  has  given  all  power  and  authority  to 
execute  Judgment  into  the  hands  of  the  commander-in-chief, 
who  is  the  oldest  son  ;  and  In  the  subject  of  line  B  ws  have  an 
example  of  the  younger  men  who  would  cause  evil  if  allowed  to 
•hare  his  power.' 

'The  topmost  line,  divided,  shows  the  great  ruler  delivering 
his  charges  (to  the  men  who  have  distinguished  themseh  e*K 
appointing  some  to  be  rulers  of  HlaUs,  and  others  to  be  chiefs 
of  clans.  But  small  men  should  not  )>•  employed  (In  such 
positions).'    Legge  thus  comments:  'T.is  action  of  the  hexa- 

Sram  has  been  gone  through.    The  expedition  has  been  con- 
ucted  to  a  successful  end.      The  enemy  has  been  subdued. 


His  territories  are  at  the  disposal  of  the  conqueror.  The 
commander-in-chief  has  done  his  part  well.  His  sovereign, 
"  the  great  ruler,"  comes  upon  the  scene,  and  rewards  the 
ofllcerH  who  have  been  conspicuous  by  their  bravery  and  skill, 
conferring  on  them  rank  and  lands.  But  be  is  warned  to  have 
respect  in  doing  bo  to  their  moral  character.  Small  men,  of 
ordinary  or  less  than  ordinary  character,  may  be  rewarded 
with  riches  and  certain  honours  ;  but  land  and  the  welfare  of 
its  population  Bhould  not  be  given  into  the  hands  of  any  who 
are  not  equal  to  the  responsibility  of  such  a  trust' 

To  turn  now  to  the  main  deduction  of  King 
Wen,  of  which  the  above  is  the  detailed  explana- 
tion. We  find  the  lessons  of  the  hexagram  thus 
expressed  :  '  Sze  indicates  how  (in  the  age  which 
it  supposes),  with  firmness  and  correctness  and 
(a  leader  of)  age  and  experience,  there  will  be  no 
error. ' 

It  will  be  observed,  from  this  example,  how  the 
character  of  the  lines  (whether  divided  or  un- 
divided), their  place  in  the  hexagram  (whether 
odd  or  even,  e.g.  1,  3,  6;  or  2,  4,  6),  and  their 
mutual  relation  to  each  other  (2  corresponding  to 
5,  etc. )  are  all  of  great  importance  in  the  exposition 
of  the  lessons  they  are  supposed  to  convey.  The 
mutual  relation  of  the  2  trigrams  in  each  hexagram 
is  also  a  matter  of  importance. 

This  specimen  will  serve  to  show  how  little  there 
is  of  any  cosmological  element  in  the  original 
Book  of  ChangeB,  and  how  far  the  modern  com- 
mentators have  wandered  from  the  intention  of 
the  compiler  and  his  earliest  expositor  ;  in  fact,  it 
was  only  by  an  arbitrary  forcing  of  the  primitive 
modes  oi  divination,  and  the  introduction  of  entirely 
new  ideas  in  the  Appendixes,  that  Chucius  suc- 
ceeded in  building  up  the  system  which  is  attri- 
buted to  him,  and  which  has  only  the  slightest 
affinity  with  the  diagrams  of  King  W6n.  A  rough 
parallel  might  be  established  between  the  diagrams 
and  our  modern  playing  cards,  in  which  the  calendar 
may  be  said  to  be  represented,  though  with  no 
cosmological  intention,  the  4  suits  representing  tha 
4  seasons ;  the  13  cards  in  each  suit  =  the  IS 
sidereal  months  ;  the  52  cards  =  the  52  weeks  of 
the  year ;  the  364  pips  (including  the  value  of  the 
'  coat '  cards)  =  the  days  of  the  year,  etc  ;  and,  as 
the  cards  are  now  employed  by  pretended  '  fortune- 
tellers '  as  a  key  to  the  secrets  of  human  existence, 
so  the  hexagrams  of  King  Wen  came  to  be  applied, 
in  course  of  time,  to  issues  much  larger  than  were 
ever  contemplated  by  their  inventor. 

The  chief  exponent  of  the  modern  system  was 
Chucius,  whose  name  is  pre-eminent  amongst  the 
philosophers  of  the  Sung  school  of  the  11th  and 
12th  centuries  in  China.  Confucius  and  Menoius 
were  practical  philosophers,  but  Chuoius  was  not 
content  to  accept  the  fact  of  Heaven  and  Earth, 
which  had  been  sufficient  for  the  great  teachers 
who  preceded  him  j  he  endeavoured  to  establish  a 
systematic  theory  of  the  origin  of  all  things,  find- 
ing in  the  Yi-king,  as  he  supposed,  a  groundwork 
for  his  researches.  He  was  further  aided  in  his 
speculations  by  Taoistic  and  Buddhistic  sugges- 
tions, as  well  as  by  other  philosophic  concepts 
Which  may  well  have  reaohed  China  hy  that  time, 
and  which  to  an  ardent  and  omnivorous  student 
would  prove  attractive.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  he 
was  familiar  with  l'orsian  and  early  Christian  ideas 
propagated  by  the  Nestorian  teachers  in  the  cen- 
turies preceding  him. 

It  in  very  important  to  bear  in  mind  that  the 
earliest  conception  of  the  Chinese  regarding  the 
universe  was  a  theological  one,  while  the  later 
system  of  Chucius  is  philosophical  ;  and  it  is  owing 
to  this  fact  that  Chucius  found  himself  involved  in 
frequent  difficulties  in  the  endeavour  to  harmonize 
the  two.  The  ancient  or  theological  concept  takes 
its  starting-point  from  Shangti,  or  Heaven  ;  the 
Taoistic  or  philosophic  theory  goes  no  further  back 
than  the  'Great  Extreme';  but  ChuciuB,  though 
professedly  no  theologian,  appears  unable  to  elimin- 


140 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Chinese) 


ate  from  liis  system  some  traces  of  the  ancient 
conviction  that  behind  all  phenomena  there  is  a 
power,  variously  described  as  Heaven,  the  'Con- 
troller,' the  'Great  Framer'  (or  'Potter'),  etc., 
while  he  shrank  from  any  suggestion  of  anthropo- 
morphism, and  disclaimed  the  view  that  that 
power  actively  interfered  iu  the  alliiirB  of  men. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  theories  of  Chucius  are 
not  intended  to  account  for  ultimate  beginnings  ; 
his  concept  ion  of  (he  present  world  is  that  it  is  but 
one  of  a  long  series  of  similar  existences  which 
have  flourished  in  turn,  and  have  been  corrupted, 
each  disappearing  eventually  from  view  and  giving 
plane  to  a  new  world.  He  makes  no  attempt  to 
explain  how  the  primal  element  came  into  being, 
but  finds  his  starting-point  in  the  theory  of  the 
existence  of  a  Natural  Law  which  he  denominates 
Li  (pronounced  Lee),  and  a  vital  essenoe  whioh  he 
calls  Ki  (pronounced  Chee).  He  does  not  inquire 
wherein  this  Law  resides,  or  where  this  vital 
'  breath '  is  derived  from.  The  theologian  may 
contend  for  the  recognition  of  a  Divine  creator  or 
framer,  but  Chucius,  though  he  does  not  traverse 
the  argument,  declines  to  discuss  the  subject.  In 
inquiring,  therefore,  into  the  evolution  of  this 
present  world,  he  finds  its  material  basis  in  Ki 
(vapour,  breath,  air,  etc.),  and  its  active  principle 
in  Li — both  eternal  in  their  nature,  as  existing 
before  the  clock  of  time  began  to  strike,  yet 
admitting  of  a  priority  of  order  in  the  case  of  Li. 
The  alternate  action  and  inaction  of  Li,  in  the 
sphere  oi  Ki,  produced  the  positive  and  negative 
forms,  Yang  and  Yin,  variously  represented  as 
Light  and  Darkness,  Heaven  and  Earth,  Male  and 
Female,  etc.,  whose  vicissitudes  constitute  the 
Tao,  or  Course  of  Nature,  as  reflected  in  the  4 
seasons,  the  alternations  of  day  and  night,  etc. 
The  Yang  and  Yin  contain  the  'Five  elements'  in 
embryo,  viz.  metal,  wood,  water,  fire,  and  earth, 
of  which  water  and  fire  are  regarded  as  the  simplest 
forms.  Each  element  possesses  a  Yang  and  a  Yin 
quality,  and  all  are  pervaded  by  Li.  As  a  result 
of  the  interaction  of  these  two  '  forms ' — the  Yang 
and  the  Yin,  which  are  in  constant  motion — a 
certain  amount  of  '  sediment '  is  precipitated  to 
the  centre  of  the  whirling  mass  and  becomes 
Earth,  whilst  the  more  subtle  excreta  are  flung 
upwards  to  the  outer  ring  of  the  circle,  and  become 
Heaven.  Earth  remains  motionless  in  the  centre, 
whilst  the  Heavens  revolve  continually,  as  the 
movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies  serve  to  show. 

The  myriad  creatures  were  produced  by  the 
spontaneous  coagulation  of  the  finer  essences  of 
the  live  elements  in  the  Yang-  Yin,  forming  a  her- 
maphroditic being  or  pair,  which  in  course  of  time 
separated  and  gave  birth  to  the  male  and  female 
species  which  now  constitute  the  human  race. 

It  will  be  seen  at  a  glance  how  far  removed 
these  theories  are  from  the  system  of  divination 
attributed  to  King  Wen,  and  it  seems  inevitable 
that  they  represent  an  interpretation  of  that 
system  entirely  alien  to  the  purpose  which  inspired 
its  first  exponents.  From  Chucius'  own  words,  we 
are  led  to  conclude  that  the  study  of  the  Yi  had 
made  little  progress  during  the  centuries  which 
had  elapsed  from  the  days  of  Confucius  until  his 
own  time.  It  seems  probable  that  the  later  Ap- 
pendixes, popularly  ascribed  to  the  great '  Master ' 
himself,  'belong  to  a  period  long  posterior,  and 
they  seem  to  reflect  opinions  which  began  to  be 
current  only  in  Chucius  days.  Philosophers  snch  as 
Shao-ywig  (A.D.  1011-1077),  of  whom  Chucius  says, 
'From  the  time  of  Confucius  no  one  understood 
this  (i.e.  the  relation  between  the  Great  Extreme, 
the  8  diagrams,  etc.)  until  Shao  explained  it,'  and 
Chow  Tun-i  (A.D.  1017-1073),  to  whom  is  attri- 
buted the  circular  diagram  of  the  Great  Extreme, 
apparently  made  use  of  the   Yi  as  a   vehicle  of 


Taoistic  ideas,  and  applied  to  the  'strong'  and 
'weak'  lines  of  King  W£n  the  system  of  Yatu, 
and  Yin,  which  nowhere  appears  iu  the  text  of  the 
Yi,  but  which  is  suggested  by  the  words  of  Lao-tze 
in  the  Tao-1'S-King) : 

•Tao  produced  unity  ;  unity  produced  duality  :  duality  pro- 
duced trinity  ;  and  trinity  produced  the  innumerable  objectt; 
the  innumerable  objects,  carrying  the  feminine  or  •hadow 
principle  on   the  one    side,   and    the    inaseulino  or    sunlight 

r>rinciple  on  the  other,  created  a  Just  harmony  by  their  respecti- 
ve clashes  of  primitive  impulse  or  ether '  (Parker's  it.). 

It  may  be  assumed,  therefore,  that  the  Chinese 
cosmogony  is  of  comparatively  recent  origin,  and 
that  tlie  ancients  were  content  to  accept  the  fact 
of  the  universe  without  abstruse  theorizing  as  to 
its  origin  and  method.  The  Sung  philosophers 
adopted  the  trilinear  figures  of  the  Yi,  but  devised 
a  new  diagram  of  what  they  called  the  '  Great 
Extreme,'  viz.  a  circle  intended  to  represent  the 
ultimate  principle  Li,  which,  in  their  system, 
indicates  tlie  limit  of  philosophical  discussion.  This 
oirole  was  subdivided  thus : 


to  illustrate  the  interaction  and  constant  gyrations 
of  the  Yang  and  Yin,  i.e.  the  primal  essence,  or 
K'i  in  its  2  forms,  the  motive  power  in  which  is 
Li.  Another  circle  represents  the  K'i  as  divided 
into  its  constituent  elements,  i.e.  the  five  active 
principles — water,  fire,  wood,  metal,  and  earth. 
Sometimes  the  four  seasons  are  represented. 

From  these  we  may  learn  that,  according  to 
Chucius,  the  world  came  into  existence  as  a  result 
of  the  operation  of  Li,  or  '  Natural  Law,'  setting 
in  motion  the  K'i,  or  'vital  essence,' which,  by  the 
interaction  of  its  two  forms,  Yang  and  Yin,  con- 
taining the  5  elements,  threw  off,  in  its  perpetual 
revolutions,  the  excreta  which  coagulated  respect- 
ively into  Heaven,  on  the  outward  edge,  and  Earth, 
in  the  centre ;  and  that  the  vicissitudes  of  Yang 
and  Yin  account  for  the  regular  succession  of  day 
and  night,  the  alternate  waxing  and  waning  of  the 
same  being  the  cause  of  the  four  seasons;  and 
that,  when  the  great  cycle,  calculated  as  occupying 
a  kalpa,  or  129,600  years,  is  accomplished  through 
the  exhaustion  of  the  Yang  element  in  man,  as 
exhibited  by  moral  declension  and  universal  cor- 
ruption, the  whole  system  is  resolved  into  its 
constituent  elements,  and  a  new  heaven  and  earth 
are  called  into  being. 

Man's  place  in  Nature. — As  to  the  place  which 
man  occupies  in  this  system,  since  man  is  com- 
pounded of  the  five  elements  constituting  the  K'i,  or 
vital  essence,  in  which  the  Li  operates,  he  is 
described  as  a  microcosm — a  world  in  miniature — 
from  which  it  follows  that  every  man  has  within 
him  a  'spark  of  the  Divine.'  In  some  men  the 
Yang  predominates;  in  others  the  Yin.  Of  the 
former  are  the  Sages,  the  great  men  of  past  and 
present  times;  the  latter  are  represented  by  the 
'  mean '  men,  the  dull,  the  criminal,  etc  As  in 
the  case  of  Nature,  so  man  has  his  seasons  of  spring, 
summer,  etc.,  and  his  days  and  nights,  and,  like 
the  world,  comes  to  an  end  by  the  exhaustion  of 
the  K'i,  or  vital  breath.  His  great  business,  there- 
fore, is  to  frame  and  fashion  his  life  so  as  to  live 
in  conformity  with,  the  Tao,  or  observed  order  of 
the  universe.  '  No  contrariety '  must  be  his  motto. 
By  so  doing  he  may  attain  in  time  the  proud 
distinction  of  being  an  associate  of  Heaven  and 


COSMOGON  Y  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Christian) 


141 


Earth.  As  to  his  future,  neither  Lao-tze,  Con- 
fucins,  nor  Chucius  has  anything  to  say  ;  probably, 
from  the  philosophical  point  of  view,  death  to 
them,  though  they  would  not  discuss  it,  meant  a 
return  to  the  original  chaos,  like  the  universe  at 
the  end  of  its  cycle  of  existence ;  or,  to  express  it 
in  the  polite  but  equivocal  phrase  of  ancient  and 
modern  days,  a  '  return  to  Heaven.' 

The  philosophic  idea  was,  however,  too  lofty 
and  illusive  for  common  acceptance,  and,  during 
the  Sung  dynasty,  the  tradition  of  a  '  first  man ' 
was  evolved,  ascribing  the  ancestry  of  the  human 
race  to  a  certain  P'an-ku,  of  whom  it  is  stated  in 
the  Lu-she  (Mayers'  tr.) : 
'  When  the  great  first  principle  had  given  birth  to  the  two 

Enary  forms,  and  these  had  produced  the  four  secondary 
res,  the  latter  underwent  transformations  and  evolutions, 
mce  the  natural  objects  depending  from  their  respective 
influences  came  abundantly  into  being.  The  first  who  came 
forth  to  rule  the  world  was  named  P  an-ku,  and  he  was  also 
called  the  "  Undeveloped  and  Unenlightened  "  (i.e.  the  Embryo).' 

This  idea  is  now  almost  universally  accepted  by 
the  mass  of  the  unlearned  in  China,  and  by  not  a 
/ew  of  the  scholarly  class,  being,  as  it  were,  a  sort 
of  concretion  of  the  indefinite  theories  of  the 
Chucian  philosophers  as  to  the  origin  of  man. 

The  place  occupied  6y  spiritual  beings.—  Though 
Confucius  and  Chucius  (16  centuries  later)  were 
unwilling  to  enter  into  the  <jneation  of  spiritual 
existences,  and  though  the  latter  expressly  declared 
the  difficulties  involved  in  such  a  theory,  the  fact 
that  the  earliest  records  refer  so  frequently  to  the 
existence  of  spirits  made  it  necessary  that  a  place 
should  be  found  for  them  in  the  Chinese  philosophy, 
and,  accordingly,  the  Kuei-ihen,  or  spirits,  were 
adopted  as  representing,  so  to  speak,  in  personal 
form,  the  activities  at  work  in  the  changing 
phenomena  of  Nature ;  but  the  ancient  doctrine 
that  the  spirits  are  the  ministers  of  God,  carrying 
out  His  behests,  on  the  analogy  of  the  officers  of 
State  fulfilling  the  decrees  of  the  sovereign,  sur- 
vives, in  a  somewhat  debased  form,  in  the  popular 
opinion  which  invests  the  earth  and  air  with  a 
numberless  host  of  good  and  evil  spirits  or 
demons. 

The  place  of  God. — In  the  earliest  days  of  which 
we  possess  any  record,  Shang-ti,  or  God,  appears 
to  have  occupied  a  chief  place  in  the  mind  of 
China's  rulers,  but  at  the  beginning  of  the  Chow 
dynasty  (12th  cent.  B.C.)  we  find  the  terms  'Heaven' 
and  '  Earth '  coming  into  prominence,  representing 
the  operations  of  God  in  Nature  and  Providence, 
and,  as  a  consequence,  Shang-ti  is  removed  to  a 
greater  distance  than  that  intimate  relation  in 
which  he  seems  to  have  stood  vis-A-vis  his  votaries 
in  the  earlier  days.  Later  developments  contri- 
buted towards  the  increasing  of  this  distance,  and 
the  attitude  of  Confucius  towards  metaphysical 
and  transcendental  questions  tended  to  widen  the 
chasm.  Chucius  appears  to  have  relegated  God  to 
a  position  of  infinite  remoteness  and  unknowable- 
ness,  though  he  did  not  deny  the  possibility  of 
there  being  an  ultimate  ruling  power,  of  whose 
existence  individual  students  must  satisfy  them- 
selves; and  he  refers  to  the  'Great  Framer,'  the 
'Root  of  the  Great  Extreme,'  the  'Heavenly 
decree  which  set  in  motion  the  primal  elements,' 
etc.  His  conviction  seems  to  be  that  God,  or  tliu 
'  Infinite,' invested  the  K'i,  or  vital  essence,  with 
His  own  Li,  or  Law,  and  then  allowed  the  creation 
to  develop  itself  spontaneously,  He  IliniHclf  taking 
no  further  active  share  in  the  allium  of  Nature  or 
of  human  life.  Such  a  contention,  indeod,  waH 
directly  contrary  to  the  earlier  beliefs,  and  led 
Chucius,  unwillingly,  into  conflict  with  the  received 
opinions.  He,  however,  steadily  refused  to  discuss 
the  matter,  and  insisted  that  every  man  should  he 
'  fully  persuaded  in  his  own  mind'  and  make  his 
own  investigations.     Here  again  the  agnosticism 


of  Chucius  was  unable  to  overcome  the  immemorial 
persuasion  of  his  fellow-countrymen,  that  the 
'  Supreme  Ruler '  interferes  actively  in  the  affairs 
of  the  nation,  and  sends  forth  His  agents,  includ- 
ing spirits  and  sages,  to  fulfil  His  behests.  Hence 
it  happens  that  Shang-ti  is  still  worshipped  officially 
by  the  Emperors  of  China,  and  Heaven  is  invoked 
by  the  mass  of  the  people,  whilst  the  spirits  are 
solicited  to  exert  their  influence  on  behalf  of 
their  petitioners.  The  theological  concept  has 
thus  survived  the  philosophical,  and,  by  a  strange 
inconsistency,  the  materialism  of  Confucius  and 
Chucius,  as  represented  by  the  modern  Chinese 
literate,  is  exhibited  in  a  country  which,  above  all 
others,  is  remarkable  for  its  active  and  almost 
frenzied  addiction  to  the  propitiation  of  spirits  and 
demons. 

Litbraturs.—  J.  Legge,  '  Yi-king,'  In  SBB,  vol.  xvi.  (1882); 
T.  M'Clatchie,  tr.  of  the  works  of  the  philosopher  Choo- 
foo-tze  in  The  Chinese  Repository,  xviii.  [Shanghai,  1874] ;  cf. 
also  the  literature  appended  to  art.  Confucius. 

W.  Gilbert  Walshk. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Chris- 
tian).— I.  Early. — The  early  Christians  were  not 
seriously  perplexed  by  questions  of  cosmogony. 
They  had  come  into  a  heritage,  whereby  they 
had  grown  np  into  the  current  Palestinian-Jewish 
ideas  of  the  origin  and  constitution  of  the  world. 
Moreover,  they  looked  out  upon  the  world  and  the 
whole  realm  of  Nature  from  the  purely  religious 
standpoint.  '  In  the  beginning  God '  (Gn  l1)  was 
the  primary  article  of  their  faith.  It  was  Jahweh, 
the  God  of  Israel,  who  had  '  measured  the  waters  in 
the  hollow  of  his  hand,  and  meted  out  heaven  with 
the  span,  and  comprehended  the  dust  of  the  earth 
in  a  measure,  and  weighed  the  mountains  in 
scales,  and  the  hills  in  a  balance.  ...  It  is  he 
that  sitteth  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth  .  .  .  that 
stretcheth  out  the  heavens  as  a  curtain,  and 
spreadeth  them  out  as  a  tent  to  dwell  in.  ...  I 
am  Jahweh,  and  there  is  none  else.  ...  I  form 
the  light,  and  create  darkness  :  I  make  peace,  and 
create  evil.  I,  Jahweh,  do  all  these  things'  (Is 
4Qia-a  455-').  Psalms  8  and  104  express  the  same 
idea  of  the  sole,  beneficent  creatorship  of  God,  and 
in  Psalms  33  and  148  creation  by  the  spoken  word 
is  confidently  expressed.  The  Book  of  Job  is  like- 
wise pervaded  by  this  belief,  and  the  same  is  tru« 
of  Pr  S33'81.  These  seem  to  have  been  the  primarj 
sources  from  whioh  the  early  Christians  drew  their 
conception  of  the  material  cosmos  and  God's  rela- 
tion to  it.  This  Bimple  religious  viow  found  free 
expression  in  their  prayers  :  '  O  Lord,  thou  that 
didst  make  the  heaven  and  the  earth  and  the  sea, 
and  all  that  in  them  is '  (Ac  4*1).  And  Jesus  had 
expressed  His  faith  in  the  same  direct  and  simple 
way.  To  Him  God  was  '  Lord  of  heaven  and 
earth'  (Mt  11s"),  who  '  maketh  his  sun  to  rise  on 
the  evil  and  the  good,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just 
and  the  unjust '  (Mt  5*").  His  heavenly  Father  also 
feeds  the  birds  of  the  heavens,  and  clothes  the 
graBS  of  the  fields  (Mt  e38*).  The  disciples,  like 
their  Master,  wore  absorbed  in  the  thought  of  the 
loving  care  of  God,  and  His  gracious  provision  for 
all  Ills  creatures.  'In  him,  says  St.  Paul,  'we 
live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being'  (Ac  1738). 

Hut  tho  profound  and  enduring  impression  which 
Jesus  made  upon  IUh  followers  soon  constrained 
t.lieiu  to  associate  11  im  with  the  Father  in  the 
work  of  creation.  It  was  He  who  had  brought 
redemption  from  sin,  and  given  them  a  glad  new 
Sonne  of  sonship  with  God.  But  Lordship  in  the 
spiritual  world  must  and  did  ultimately  involve 
equal  Lordship  in  the  material  world  and  in  the 
whole  realm  of  the  Divine  activity.  This  idea  was 
early  expressed  by  St.  Paul,  who  says :  '  To  us 
there  is  one  God,  the  Father,  of  whom  are  all 
things,  and  we  unto  him  ;   and  one  Lord,  Jesus 


^■J '.' 


142 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Christian) 


Christ,  through  whom  are  all  tilings,  ami  we 
through  him  '  (1  Co  89)  ;  '  for  in  him  It  lie  Son]  were 
all  things  created  .  .  .  tilings  visible  anil  things 
invisible  .  .  .  and  he  is  before  all  things,  and  in 
him  all  things  consist'  (Col  1>»- ;  of.  Ho  1").  ■  By 
faith  we  understand,'  says  (.ho  author  of  the  Ep.  to 
the  Hebrews,  '  that  the  worlds  luv\  a  bocn  framed  by 
the  word  (/H^ari)  of  (5od  '  (Ho  11*).  '  In  the. begin- 
ning was  the  Logos,"  s.iys  St.  ,Iohn,  '  and  the 
Logos  was  with  God,  and  the  Logos  was  Hod  .  .  . 
all  tilings  were  made  l>y  liiin  '  (.In  l1"*  j  cf.  Rev  4"). 
The  specific  use  of  (ho  word  Logos  by  the  Fourth 
Evangelist  completed  and  continued  a  development 
which  had  been  in  progress  for  several  decades,  by 
which  Jesus  as  the  Son  was  definitely  classed  with 
God  the  Father,  and  associated  with  Him  in  the 
creation  and  government  of  both  the  visible  and 
the  invisible  world.  It  also  tended  to  reconcile 
and  adjust  the  Christian  faith  to  the  late  Jewish 
development  of  the  concept  '  wisdom  *  (Pr  8,  Sir  24, 
Wis  8,  and  the  like)  ana  the  current  Hellenistic 
idea  of  tie  Logos  (Book  of  Wisdom,  Philo  Judaeus, 
and  the  like).  Christian  cosmology  henceforth 
was  definitely  related  to  the  Person  of  Christ. 

Hut  the  tragic  fate  which  overtook  Jesus,  and 
His  own  utter&noes  concerning  the  machinations 
of  the  'prince  of  this  world,'  together  with  His 
teachings  regarding  His  '  return,'  and  the  '  day  of 
judgmeait,'  and  the  Mast  things,'  made  a  deep  and 
solemn  impression  upon  His  disciples.  Everything 
seemed  to  constrain  them  to  believe  in  the  presence 
of  an  opposing  Satanic  power  in  the  universe  (Ac  5, 
8,  IS;  Rev  2s  and  oft).  St.  Paul  speaks  of  the 
'  lawless  one "...  whose  '  coming  is  according  to 
the  working  of  Satan '  (2  Th  2"-) ;  he  declares  that 
the  '  whole  creation  groaneth  and  travaileth  in 
pain  together  until  now'  (Ro  8a),  and  that  'our 
wrestling  is  not  against  flesh  and  blood,  but  against 
the  principalities,  against  the  powers,  against  the 
world-rulers  of  this  darkness,  against  the  spiritual 
hosts  of  wickedness  in  the  heavenly  places '  (Eph 
6").  Thfe  Book  of  Revelation  attempts  to  describe 
this  great  world-drama,  this  duel  between  good 
and  evil,  and  the  final  triumph  of  the  '  Lamb  that 
hath  been  slain.'  In  this  more  or  less  incoherent 
and  dualistic  view  of  things,  we  have  the  out- 
cropping of  Babylonian  and  Persian  ideas,  which 
for  several  generations  had  been  occupying  a  large 
place  in  Jewish  thought  (see  Test.  Twelve  Patri- 
archs, Bk.  of  Jubilees,  Bk.  of  Enoch,  Assump.  of 
Moses ;  cf.  Mt  4"-  12"*-  13s9,  Jn  8"  12",  Ac  1310, 
2  Co  11»,  Eph  2s  6",  Ja  47,  1  P  58,  He  2",  1  Jn  3», 
and  oft.).  Christian  cosmology,  accordingly,  be- 
comes profoundly  affected  by  the  resurgence  of 
Bab.-Pers. -Jewish  ideas,  and  takes  on  a  dualistic 
cast. 

The  lapse  into  '  sins  of  the  flesh '  on  the  part  of 
professing  Christians,  as  well  as  the  appalling 
moral  corruption  of  environing  paganism,  gradually 
led  to  the  conviction  that  sin  has  its  primal  seat  in 
'  the  flesh.'  Here,  again,  we  have  the  outcropping 
of  ideas  already  rife  in  current  Judaism  and 
paganism.  St.  Paul's  teaching  was  more  or  less 
infected  by  the  half -assumption  of  the  physical 
basis  of  sin,  and  he  exhibits  a  distinct  tendency 
toward  asceticism  (Gal  5'6a-,  1  Co  311-  71<r-,  Ro  714"-). 
The  whole  trend  of  thought  within  the  Christian 
Church  gradually  became  reactionary  and  ascetic. 
Some  began  to  withdraw  from  marital  and  social 
relations  and  to  '  flee  from  the  world.'  Asceticism 
entered  as  a  constituent  element  into  Christian 
ethics,  and  soon  coloured  the  whole  view  of  things, 
giving  its  character  to  contemporary  cosmology. 
If  evil  is  inherent  in  matter,  or,  rather,  if  matter 
is  inherently  evil,  the  question  of  the  creation  and 
government  of  the  world  by  an  all-wise  and  bene- 
ficent God  becomes  seriously  complicated.  The 
Christians  were,  as  a  rule,  inclined  to  emphasize 


the  Genesis  story  of  the  '  Creation '  and  '  Fall,'  and 
thereby  to  shield  God  from  complicity  in  the  intro- 
duction of  evil  into  the  universe.  But  there  were 
other  and  diverse  accounts  of  the  origin  of  the 
cosmos  and  the  entrance  of  evil  into  it. 

The  Gnostics  were  not  only  the  '  first  Christian 
theologians,'  but  the  first  cosmogonists  and  cos- 
mologists.  Indeed,  their  primary  concern  was  to 
discover  and  develop  a  theory  of  the  cosmos  which 
should  shield  the  Supreme  Being  from  all  com- 
plicity in,  or  responsibility  for,  its  creation,  which 
seemed  to  them  to  involve  also  the  production  of 
evil.  They,  accordingly,  assumed  that  the  ma- 
terial cosmos  arose  through  the  more  or  less  blind 
and  perverse  activity  of  the  Demiurge,  who  was  far 
removed  from  the  Supreme  God  and  the  heavenly 
Pleroma.  Although  man  was  created  by  the  Demi- 
urge, he  yet  received,  through  '  Sophia,'  sparks 
from  the  Divine  nature,  and  is  struggling  to  get 
free  from  his  material  bondage.  Ascetic  discipline 
is,  accordingly,  one  of  the  means  by  which  the 
Gnostic  is  to  overcome  '  sin  in  the  flesh,'  and  secure 
salvation.  Another  means  is  the  rational  revela- 
tion which  the  Logos  made  to  the  world  when  He 
became  manifest  in  tha  Christ.  The  '  prince  of 
this  world'  must  be  overthrown  by  the  Supreme 
God,  who  has  sent  His  Son  to  rescue  men  from 
their  bondage  to  evil  ( =  0\tj).  In  all  these  Gnostic 
viewB  we  have  but  the  exaggeration  or  perversion 
of  ideas  that  were  then  present  in  current  Christian 
thought,  and  which  had  come  as  a  heritage  from 
Judaism  and  environing  paganism.  In  other 
words,  Gnosticism  (<j.v.)  was  but  an  aberrant  form 
of  the  Christian  faith,  and  its  crude  and  fantastic 
cosmologies  were,  after  all,  only  abortive  efforts  to 
solve  the  riddle  of  the  universe  in  a  supposedly 
Christian  fashion.  The  cosmic  views  of  the  Gnostics 
persisted  in  modified  forms  in  Neo-PIatonism  (q.v.) 
and  in  Maniclueism  (</.  v. ). 

The  Apologists,  contemporaries  of  the  Gnostics, 
fell  back,  as  a  rule,  upon  the  simple  'Creation* 
and  '  Fall'  stories  of  Genesis,  and  thereby  escaped 
the  worst  excesses.  They  also  made  ample  use  of 
the  Platonic-Stoic-Philonian  Logos  idea,  and  em- 
phasized the  mediatorship  of  the  Logos  in  the 
work  of  creation.  They  were  likewise  surcharged 
with  a  belief  in  demons  and  opposing  Satanic 
powers,  but  they  looked  forward  to  the  destruction 
of  the  material  cosmos  and  the  overthrow  of  all 
hostile  forces.  Justin  Martyr  and  Athenagoras 
speak  of  God  as  having  fashioned  the  world  out  of 
formless  material  (SXtj),  but  Theophilus  declares 
that  God  created  all  things  ex  nihilo  (££  oiic  trroir). 
Each  based  his  assumption  upon  Gn  lu-  2"-  (Justin, 
Apol.  i.  10,  20,  59,  67  ;  Atbenag.  Apol.  for  Christ. 
15 ;  Theophilus,  Autol.  i.  6,  7,  10,  ii.  4,  6,  10 ;  cf. 
Tatian,  Addr.  to  Greeks,  5  and  12;  Aristides, 
Apol.  1  and  4).  The  Apologists,  as  a  rule,  thought 
of  evil  as  inherent  in  matter,  and  accordingly  were 
inclined  towards  asceticism  ;  but  they  preserved,  to 
a  degree,  the  simpler  religious  view  of  Apostolic 
times,  which  they  derived  mainly  from  the  OT. 

Irenseus  and  TertuUian,  Clem.  Alex.,  Origen, 
and  Hippolytus  reject  the  Gnostic  theory  of  the 
creation  of  the  world  by  the  Demiurge,  and 
emphasize  the  function  of  the  Logos-Son  in  the 
whole  realm  of  the  Divine  activity.  The  NT 
writings  are  now  quoted  as  authoritative  Scrip- 
ture, hut  the  OT  is  -also  heavily  drawn  upon  to 
explain  God's  relation  to  the  cosmos.  But,  as  was 
to  be  expected,  these  men  were  '  children  of  their 
own  times,'  although  seeking  to  pass  on  a  heritage. 
Some  of  the  earlier  crudities  were  retained,  espe- 
cially the  belief  in  evil  as  somehow  inherent  in 
material  things.  With  some  slight  aberrations, 
the  Church  Fathers  of  the  3rd  cent,  were  true  to 
the  unformulated  cosmology  of  the  OT  and  NT, 
coloured  by   the   speculations  of    the    Apologists 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Christian) 


143 


(Iren.  c.  Hcer.  I.  iii.  6,  x.  1  f.,  xxii.  1,  II.  x.  and  xi, 
V.  xviii.  ;  Tert.  ado.  Herm.  '-'9-34  and  45,  adv. 
Prax.  19,  adv.  Marc.  i.  15  and  16  ;  Clem.  Alex. 
<S<r.  vi  16 ;  Origen,  de  Prin.,  Prsef.,  I.  ii.,  II.  i.  iii. 
ix.,  m.  v.,  c.  Cete.  Ti.  49-61,  Com.  in  Joh.  i.  17  and 
22  ;  Hippol.  Phil.  i.  If.,  c.  Noet.  9-14 ;  cf.  Arnob. 
ado.  Gent.  ii.  58  j  Lactant.  Div.  Inst.  ii.  10,  vii.  5  ; 
Symb.  Apostol.). 

The  Nieene  Fathers  make  no  distinct  advance 
upon  the  cosmology  of  their  predecessors.  Athan- 
asiu3  refutes  the  heathen  views  of  the  origin  and 
constitution  of  the  universe  (c.  Gent.  6,  7,  29, 
85-40),  and  emphasizes  the  co-operation  of  the  Son 
in  the  work  of  creation  (c.  Arianos,  i.  22, 29,  ii.  21). 
Eusebius,  in  his  Prop.  Evang.,  describes  the  cos- 
mologies of  the  Phoenicians,  Egyptians,  and  Greeks 
(i.  6-11),  and  later  expands  the  Creation-story  of 
the  Hebrews,  quoting,  in  confirmation  of  his  own 
views,  from  Philo,  Origen,  Dionyaius  Alex.,  Maxi- 
mus,  Plato,  and  others  (vii.  10-22,  viii  13  f.,  xi 
29-38,  xiv.  23).  Plato  he  assumes  to  have  derived 
his  knowledge  of  the  creation  and  constitution  of 
the  universe  from  Moses.  Eusebius  then  sets 
forth  the  teaching  of  the  Stoics  and  Neo-Platonists 
by  extended  quotations,  testing  always  by  the 
Genesis  story.  The  standard  exposition  of  Gn  1 
and  2  meets  us  in  Basil's  Hexaemeron.  But  the 
treatment  here  is  homiletical  and  fervently  re- 
ligious. In  this  we  are  reminded  of  the  early 
Christian  view  of  things  (NT  ;  Clem.  Rom.  20  and 
83 :  Herm.  Past.  Vis.  i.  3,  4,  iii  4,  1  ;  Didache,  3 
and  10). 

Augustine  has  only  incidental  allusions  to  cos- 
mology, but  is  chiefly  interested  in  defendingthe 
Creator  from  complicity  in  the  origin  of  evil.  This 
he  does  by  assuming  that  sin  has  its  principal 
seat  in  the  will.  Bebollion  against  God  on  the 
part  of  both  angels  and  men  was  the  beginning  of 
sin  and  the  cause  of  '  all  our  woes,  with  loss  of 
Eden'  (Conf.  vii.  5-7, 9, 15-20,  xii  7,  8, 12,  15-29,  de 
On.  Dei,  xi  4, 6-23,  xii.  10-15).  The  eschatological 
element,  which  was  so  prominent  in  Apostolic 
times,  has  practically  disappeared  in  Augustine. 
It  began  to  wane  at  the  opening  of  the  2nd  cent., 
and  diminished  as  the  Church  became  established 
in  the  Empire  and  set  about  to  conquer  the  world. 
In  other  respects  the  cosmological  elements  remain 
in  about  the  same  proportions. 

The  picture  which  tne  early  Christians  made  for 
themselves  of  the  cosmos  and  its  related  parts  is 
not  easily  portrayed.  The  earth  is,  of  course, 
central  in  their  universe,  and  is  surrounded  and 
sustained  from  beneath  by  the  chaotic  watery 
abyss.  Above  is  the  firmament,  which  supports 
the  heavens  as  a  fixed  vault,  furnishing  a  path  for 
the  sun  and  all  the  planets.  Beyond  and  above 
the  firmament  are  the  fixed  stars,  and  all  the  hosts 
of  heaven.  The  waters  above  the  firmament  are 
separated  by  it  from  the  waters  beneath,  and  serve 
as  a  fountain  to  refresh  the  earth  with  timely 
showers.  Sheol,  or  Hades,  was  placed  beneath  the 
earth,  and  served  as  the  prison-house,  or  waiting- 
place,  for  departed  spirits.  The  cosmos  as  a  whole 
was  conceived  as  having  been  created  for  the  sake 
of  man  and  the  heavenly  intelligences,  and  as  ruled 
over  in  wisdom  and  righteousness.  It  reveals  the 
glory  of  God,  and  interprets  His  majesty  and 
eternal  Divinity. 

Ljtrbatutiic.—  E.W.  MSUer,  iVauA  (Ur  KoJmwl.  indrrgrirch. 
Kirche,  Halle,  1880;  R.  B.  Kubel,  '  Zur  nthisrhen  Lehre  vom 
Kosmos  ond  Alkese,'  In  A'<"«  Kinkl.  /.fitichr.  I  (Isw))  1001. ; 
E.  Zeller,  Philot.  ier  I7r.»,  1-vlpiln,  ISM  I.,  iii.;  A.  Harnack, 
Utit.  o/  boqma.  Enj?.  tr.  lHSH-im.  U  sm  f.,2471.  ;  F.  Ratten- 
boacu,  Dat  apaeUl.  S\)mb.,  l*lpii|[,  1900,  II.  616  t.,  622  I.,  etc  ; 
C.  R.  Beuley,  Dawn  of  Jf<»i.  deog..  London,  1S!»7,  i.  S7:i  f.  ; 
UDB,  art.  'Cosmogony';  J'/v /■;•',  artt,  '  Schopfumr '  ami  'Welt'; 
Vacant.  Diet.  AtThtol.  CiUA.,  I'arto,  11)06,  act.  'Creation.' 

E.  K.  Mitchell. 

2.  Medieval  and  modem. — In  the  period  from 
the  fall  of  the  Woman  Empire  to  the  10th  cent. 


there  was  little  thought  upon  these  subjects.  The 
leaders  of  the  Church  were  content  to  follow  the 
teachings  of  the  Fathers,  and  Augustine's  inter- 
pretation of  the  formation  of  the  world  was  accepted 
without  question.  The  first  one  to  depart  from 
the  accepted  belief,  or  to  try  to  explain  it  in  a 

Ehilosophical  way,  was  John  Scotus  Erigena.  In 
is  study  of  the  writings  of  Dionysius  he  became 
acquainted  with  Neo-1'latonic  ideas,  and  he  tried 
to  apply  these  to  the  Biblical  account  of  Creation. 
He  departed  from  the  views  of  the  Fathers  by 
bringing  in  the  theory  that  all  things  emanate  from 
God.  His  views  are  expressed  in  his  hook  entitled 
Concerning  the  Division  of  Nature,  including  under 
'  Nature '  the  sum-total  of  existence.  Nature  in 
this  sense  is  divided  into  four  species  :  that  which 
creates  and  is  not  created  ;  that  which  is  created 
and  creates  ;  that  which  is  created  and  does  not 
create  ;  that  which  neither  creates  nor  iB  created. 
The  first  of  these — that  which  creates  and  is  not 
created — is  God  as  the  essence,  source,  and  sub- 
stance of  all  things,  the  one  Being  who  truly 
exists,  Erigena's  view  is  pantheistic,  in  that  he 
teaches  that  God  created  the  world  out  of  His  own 
essence.  He  held  to  an  all-including  unity  be- 
cause God  is  all.  It  was  easy  for  him  to  reconcile 
his  apparent  pantheism  with  the  teaching  of 
the  Church,  by  saying  that  the  Divine  essence 
was  the  nothing  out  of  which  the  world  was 
created. 

Through  the  Middle  Ages  the  Schoolmen  gave 
little  attention  to  the  subject  of  Creation.  They 
were  content  to  accept  the  views  which  had  been 
handed  down  to  them,  and  those  who  failed  to 
do  this  were  sure  to  come  into  conflict  with  the 
Church  authorities.  It  was  agreed  that  the  uni- 
verse came  into  being  and  was  sustained  and 
governed  by  the  Divine  will.  Whether  the  six 
days  of  Creation  were  days  of  twenty-four  hours 
each  was  open  to  some  discussion  ;  bnt  two  points 
must  be  agreed  to  by  the  orthodox,  viz.  that  the 
universe  was  created  out  of  nothing,  and  that  it 
was  not  from  eternity,  but  had  a  beginning  in 
time.  The  most  profound  thinker  on  this  subject 
in  the  mediaeval  period  was  Anselm  of  Canterbury, 
who  modified  the  traditional  views  by  the  intro- 
duction of  Platonic  ideas.  He  explains  (Monolog. 
ix.)  the  meaning  of  the  expression  ex  nihilo  by 
saying  that  there  is  no  way  by  which  anything  can 
be  made  by  another  unless  it  previously  exists  in 
the  mind  of  the  one  making  it.  Before  creation 
things  existed  eternally,  from  God  and  in  God,  as 
ideas.  They  did  not  exist  as  individuals,  but  in 
the  sense  that  God  foresaw  and  predestined  that 
they  would  be  made.  They  were  in  the  Divine 
mind  as  an  example,  similitude,  or  rule  of  what 
was  to  be  made.  Before  the  making  of  the  uni- 
verse it  was  in  the  thought  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
but  no  material  existed  out  of  which  it  was  to 
be  made.  Yet  it  was  not  nothing  in  its  relation 
to  the  reason  of  the  One  making.  By  reasoning 
in  this  way  Anselm  is  able  to  reconcile  his  philo- 
sophical views  with  the  accepted  interpretation  of 
the  account  given  in  Genesis.  There  is  one  pas- 
sage {Cur  Deus  Homo,  i  18)  in  which  he  implies 
that  perhaps  the  six  days  of  Creation  were  different 
from  the  days  with  which  we  are  acquainted. 
Thomas  Aquinas  discusses  the  subject  at  consider- 
able length,  but  adds  little  to  the  current  views. 
He  accepts  the  Biblical  cosmology,  admitting  that 
there  is  room  for  a  difference  of  opinion  about  the 
six  days.  Like  Albertus  Magnus,  he  teaches  that 
Creation  was  a  miracle  which  cannot  be  com- 
prehended by  the  natural  reason.  He  believed 
that  it  was  not  possible  to  demonstrate  that 
matter  was  not  eternal,  deprecating  the  efforts  of 
other  men  to  make  the  temporal  charactei  of  the 
material  universe  a  matter  that  conld  be  proven. 


&»■ 


144 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Egyptian) 


He  taught  that  it  was  an  article  of  faith  to  believe 
that  the  world  was  created  in  time. 

Contemporary  with  the  Schoolmen  were  the 
various  heretical  sects,  differing  in  some  respects 
from  the  orthodox  in  their  views  of  the  creation 
and  government  of  the  world.  The  most  divergent 
from  the  commonly  accepted  views  were  the 
dualistic  sects,  which  at  the  same  time  claimed  to 
be  Christian.  They  went  by  various  names,  such 
as  Cathari,  Albigenses,  and  so  on.  They  seem  to 
have  gained  their  heretical  views  from  contact 
with  the  religions  of  the  East,  where  dualism  was 
very  common  at  the  time.  In  general  they  held 
that  there  were  two  principles,  or  spirits,  or 
creators,  which  had  to  do  with  the  making  of  the 
universe  visible  -and  invisible.  These  two  were 
the  good  and  the  evil,  and  both  were  from  eternity, 
though  some  held  that  the  evil  spirit  was  originally 
good  and  had  fallen  from  his  first  estate.  The 
evil  spirit  was  the  author  of  the  OT,  and  the 
maker  of  all  visible  Nature.  He  had  created  man 
as  a  physical  being,  and  was  the  cause  of  all 
natural  phenomena  and  all  disorders  in  Nature. 
The  good  spirit  was  the  author  of  the  NT.  He 
was  also  the  creator  of  the  human  soul,  which  had 
been  captured  and  imprisoned  by  the  evil  spirit. 

In  the  later  Middle  Ages  there  arose  various 
schools  of  Mystics.  Some  of  these  were  heretical 
and  frankly  pantheistic.  Others,  like  Master 
Eckhart,  considered  themselves  orthodox  Chris- 
tians, but  were  unable  to  escape  the  suspicion 
of  pantheism.  Eckhart  was  in  agreement  with 
Aquinas  in  his  belief  that  there  existed  from 
eternity  a  world  of  ideas  distinct  from  the  world 
of  creatures.  He  explained  what  seemed  to  his 
contemporaries  to  be  pantheism,  by  saying  that 
creatures  are  made  in  time  and  out  of  nothing,  and 
that  they  existed  from  eternity  in  God  in  the  same 
sense  that  a  work  of  art  exists  in  the  mind  of  the 
artist  before  it  takes  material  form.  The  exist- 
ence of  the  creation  from  all  time  was  in  the 
Divine  reason.  God  exists  in  created  visible  ob- 
jects as  their  essence.  The  external  world  is  but 
the  reflexion  of  the  innermost  essence  of  God. 

The  modern  Roman  Catholic  Church  holds  to 
the  teaching  of  Aquinas,  but  allows  a  difference  of 
opinio'"  on  unimportant  points.  What  a  Roman 
Cathoiic  must  believe  to-day  in  regard  to  cosmology 
and  cosmogony  is  defined  by  the  Vatican  Decrees. 
The  Council  declared  against  the  statement  that 
matter  alone  exists,  and  in  opposition  to  the  view 
that  the  substance  and  essence  of  God  and  of  all 
things  are  one  and  the  same  ;  also  in  opposition  to 
the  view  that  finite  things,  both  corporeal  and 
spiritual,  or  at  least  spiritual,  have  emanated  from 
the  Divine  substance,  or  that  the  Divine  essence 
by  the  manifestation  and  evolution  of  itself  became 
all  things,  or  that  God  is  universal  or  indefinite 
Being,  which,  by  determining  itself,  constitutes 
the  universality  of  tilings.  The  positive  statement 
by  the  Council  was  that  God  from  the  very  begin- 
ning of  time  produced  out  of  nothing  the  world 
and  all  tilings  both  spiritual  and  corporeal. 

The  Protestant  position,  as  given  in  the  earlier 
creeds,  is  merely  a  paraphrase  of  the  cosmology 
found  in  Genesis.  The  Westminster  Confession 
states  :  '  It  pleased  God  in  the  beginning  to  make 
or  create  out  of  nothing  the  world  and  all  tilings 
therein  in  the  'space  of  six  days '  (iv.  1).  The 
Belgic  Confession  is  more  explicit:  'We  believe 
that  the  Father  by  the  Word  created  of  nothing 
the  heavens,  the  earth,  and  all  creatures,  as  it 
seemed  good  unto  Him,  giving  unto  every  creature 
its  being,  shape,  forms,  and  several  offices  to  serve 
its  creator.'  '  We  believe  that  He  dotli  also  uphold 
and  govern  them  by  His  infinite  power 'for  the 
service  of  mankind  to  the  end  that  man  may  serve 
His  God'  (Art.  xii.). 


There  is,  of  course,  no  authoritative  statement 
for  Protestantism  relating  to  Christian  cosmology 
and  cosmogony.  With  the  freedom  of  investiga- 
tion which  characterizes  modern  Protestantism, 
there  are  many  divergent  views.  Some  still  hold 
to  the  statements  of  the  older  creeds,  and  believe 
that  the  conclusions  of  science  have  nothing  to  do 
with  religion.  The  extreme  holders  of  this  position 
maintain  that  the  world  was  made  in  six  days  of 
twenty-four  hours  each,  but  this  view  has  a  decreas- 
ing number  of  adherents.  Others  believe  that  the 
account  of  Creation  given  in  Genesis  is  strictly 
scientific,  and  that  the  statements  there  found 
correspond   in   a  minute   degree   to    the   facts   of 

geology.  Others  consider  that  the  account  in 
fenesis  agrees  with  the  facts  only  in  a  general 
way.  Others  regard  the  account  as  a  myth  or 
legend  corresponding  to  the  Creation  stories  in 
Assyrian  and  Babylonian  literature.  The  only 
points  upon  which  modern  Protestants  agree  are 
that  God  is  the  source  of  the  universe ;  that  it 
came  into  being  as  a  result  of  the  free  exercise  of 
His  will ;  and  that  it  is  continually  under  His 
care  and  control. 
See  also  art.  Creation. 

Litbraturh.—  Aquinas,  Sum.  Theol. ;  T.  Harper,  The  Meta- 
physics 0/ the  School,  1879;  art.  'Creation,'  in  Did.  de  7'htol. 
Uath.  iii.  2079-2093.  See  also  '  Creation  '  in  J.  Agar  Beet,  A 
Manual  of  Theology,  1906  ;  W.  Adams  Brown,  Christian  Theo- 
logy in  Outline,  1907  ;  W.  N.  Clarke,  An  Outline  0/ Christian 
Theology,  1898 ;  I.  A.  Dorner,  A  System  of  Chr.  Doctrine, 
Eng.  tr.  1880-82 ;  G.  P.  Fisher,  Eist.  of  Chr.  Doctrine,  1898 ; 
C.  Harris.  Pro  Fide.  1906 ;  C.  Hodge,  Systernutic  Theology, 
1872-78;  W.  G.  T.  Shedd,  Dogmatic  Theology,  1889-94;  H.  C. 
Sheldon,  A  Hist,  of  Chr.  Doctrine,  1886 ;  A.  H.  Strong, 
Systematic  Theology,  1907-9;  T.  B.  Strong,  A  Manual  of 
Theology*,  1903.  C.  M.  GEER. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Egyp- 
tian).' — We  shall  here  divide  this  subject  into 
three  stages:  (1)  earth-myths,  (2)  sun-myths,  (3) 
theology. 

I.  Earth-myths. — The  attention  of  primitive 
man  was  naturally  first  directed  to  explaining 
tangible  Nature — the  earth,  the  sea,  and  the 
mists  which  lay  on  the  land.  The  most  ele- 
mentary distinction  between  racial  views  is  the 
sex  of  the  earth  and  of  the  abyss  or  sea,  which 
from  its  blueness  was  naturally  thought  to  be  of 
the  same  nature  as  the  blue  sky — trie  heavenly 
ocean.  In  Egypt  the  sky  (Nut)  was  feminine,  the 
land  (To)  was  masculine.  Exceptionally  in  the 
13th  cent.  B.C.,  when  Semitic  influence  was 
strongest,  the  sexes  were  reversed,  as  in  Hebrew 
shamaylm  ('heavens')  is  masculine,  and  'ddamah 
(' earth')  is  feminine.  Similarly  in  Babylonia,  Ea 
(the  deep)  and  Anu  (the  sky)  are  masculine,  while 
Damkina  (the  land)  is  feminine.  The  same  attri- 
bution is  adopted  by  Greek,  Latin,  and  German, 
and  in  the  New  Zealand  mythology.  Egypt  was, 
therefore,  exceptional  in  the  sex  of  land  and  Bky. 

These  elements  of  land  and  water  were  thought 
to  have  been  evolved  in  the  primal  chaos  of  the 
universal  ocean  (Ny  or  Nun),  when  'not  yet  was 
the  heaven,  not  yet  the  earth,  men  were  not,  not 
yet  born  were  the  gods,  not  yet  was  death' 
(1'yramid  of  Pepy  I.,  I.  663). 

This  idea  panged  to  Hesiod,  along  with  the  same  sexes  as  in 
Egypt : 

'  From    chuos  were    generated    Erebos    (masc.)  and    black 
Night  (rem.). 
And  from  Night  again  were  generated  Ether  and  Day, 
Whom  she  brought  forth,  having  conceived  from  the  em- 
brace of  Erebos.'  (Thcogony,  123  S.) 
He  probably  derived  it  through  the  Sidonians,  who,  l>amasoius 
asserts,    '  before  all    things  place    Chronos,   and    Pothos,  and 
Omichles.     And  by  a  connexion  between  Pothos  and  Omichles, 
as  the  two  principles,  are  generated  Aer  and  Aura.'    This  view 
then  seems  to  have  prevailed  in  the  eastern  Mediterranean. 

The  lifting  of  the  watery  mists,  which  are 
seen  rising  each  morning 'from  the  Ni'.e,  the  part- 
ing of  them  from  the  earth  ani  the  raising  of 
them  to  the  sky,  was  a  wor'    variously  attributed 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Greek) 


146 


to  Ra  (the  sun)  or  Shu  (the  atmosphere).  The 
heaven  (Nut)  was  forced  apart  from  the  earth 
(Keb  or  Seb) ;  and  usually  Shu  is  represented 
upholding  Nut  over  his  head. 

Similarly  in  New  Zealand,  the  earth  and  heaven  clave  together 
In  the  darkness,  and  had  produced  gods  and  men.  The  gods 
try  to  part  them,  but  cannot  until  the  god  and  father  of 
forests,  birds,  and  insects  strives;  'his  head  is  now  8nnly 
planted  on  his  mother  the  earth,  his  feet  he  raises  up  and  rests 
against  his  father  the  skies,  he  strains  his  back  and  limbs  with 
mighty  effort.  Now  are  rent  apart  Itangi  and  Papa,  and  with 
cries  and  groans  of  woe  they  shriek  aloud.  ...  It  was  the  fierce 
thrusting  of  Tane  which  tore  the  heaven  from  the  earth,  so  that 
they  were  rent  apart,  and  darkness  was  made  manifest,  and  so 
was  the  light'  (O.  Grey,  Polynet.  Mythol.,  Lond.  1866  [reprint, 
P.8U. 

In  Egypt  it  was  similarly  assumed  that  Seb  and  Nut 
had  produced  Ra  or  Shu  before  they  were  separated. 

3.  Sun-myths. — The  genesis  of  the  sun  (Ra)  is 
variously  attributed  to  Seb  and  to  Nut.  Accord- 
ing to  one  view,  Ra  was  '  the  egg  of  the  great 
cackler,'  Seb  being,  by  a  play  on  words,  equated 
with  the  goose.  In  another  view,  Ra  was  born  as 
a  calf  of  the  celestial  cow,  or  child  of  the  sky- 
goddess  j  and  this  may  be  the  motive  for  regarding 
the  sky  as  feminine.  Another,  and  a  more  general, 
view,  when  the  theologie  frame  of  oreation  came 
forward,  was  to  posit  the  formation  of  Ra  direct 
from  the  chaos  Nun,  and  so  make  him  an  ancestor 
of  Seb  and  Nut.  Probably  this  view  was  that  of 
the  Heliopolitan  Ra-worshippers,  as  distinct  from 
the  older  Seb-  and  Nut-worshippers  in  the  Nile 
valley.  Ra  came  into  being  '  while  as  yet  there 
was  no  heaven,  .  .  .  and  there  was  nothing  that 
was  with  him  in  that  place  where  he  was  .  .  ,  rest- 
ing in  the  waters  of  Nun,  and  be  found  no  place 
where  he  could  stand  '(Erman,  Religion,  p.  23).  Ra 
then  united  with  his  own  shadow,  and  from  his  seed 
created  Shu  and  Tefnut,  in  the  midst  of  the  chaos. 
Shu  certainly  represents  space  or  air,  symbolized 
by  an  ostrich  feather ;  Tefnut  represents  moisture. 
from  Shu  and  Tefnut  were  born  Seb  and  Nat ; 
and  from  them,  in  torn,  the  Osiride  family,  and 
mankisd. 

The  heaven  was  regarded  as  an  ocean  parallel 
with  that  on  earth.  It  «ras  on  the  heavenly  ocean 
that  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars  sailed  in 
ships  each  day  and  night.  T.i  explain  the  son's 
re-appearing  in  the  morning,  they  supposed  a 
nocturnal  ocean  beneath  the  world,  on  which  the 
■un  sailed  as  by  day.  The  dead  were,  on  this 
view,  considered  as  joining  the  boat  of  Ra,  and 
•ailing,  under  his  protection,  through  the  hours  of 
the  night  as  well  as  of  the  day. 

3.  Theology.— The  gods  associated  with  creation 
are  many.  Khnumu,  '  the  Shaper,'  who  shapes 
living  things  on  his  potter's  wheel,  'created  all 
that  is,  he  formed  all  that  exists,  he  is  the  father 
of  fathers,  the  mother  of  mothers  .  .  .  he  fashioned 
men,  he  made  the  gods,  he  was  father  from  the  be- 
ginning ...  he  is  the  creator  of  the  heaven,  the 
earth  the  under  world,  the  water,  the  mountains 
...  he  formed  a  male  and  a  female  of  all  birds, 
fishes,  wild  beasts,  cattle,  and  of  all  worms' 
(Wiedemann,  HDB,  vol.  >•  P-  179").  He  is 
figured  always  with  the  ram's  head,  to  signify  his 
creative  power,  and  was  worshipped  at  the  source 
of  the  Nile— the  cataract.  Ptah,  'the  Great 
Artificer,'  the  Demiurge,  shapes  the  sun-  and 
moon-eggs  on  his  potter's  wheel ;  he  is  the  god 
of  law  and  order  who  created  all  things  by  Maat, 
truth  or  exactness.  Osiris  '  formed  with  his  hand 
the  earth,  its  water,  its  air,  its  plants,  all  its 
cattle,  all  its  birds,  all  its  winged  fowl,  all  its 
reptiles,  all  its  quadrupeds.'  This  is  the  develop- 
ment of  the  primitive  idea  of  Osiris  as  a  god  of 
vegetation.  Amon-Ra  also,  on  the  growth  of  his 
worship  when  Thebes  was  the  capital,  became 
'the  father  of  the  gods,  the  fashioner  of  men,' 
and   all  other  things  (see  Wiedemann,  loc.  cit.). 

VOL.  IV.— io 


Thoth,  according  to  Hermopolite  legend,  when 
in  the  chaos  of  Nun,  created  Seb  and  Nut  by  his 
word ;  and  they  were  parted  asunder  at  Her- 
mopolis.  This  creation  by  the  word  was  the 
highly  spiritualized  idea  of  later  times,  and  is 
seen  in  the  Kore  Kosmou  (500  B.C.),  where  Thoth- 
Hermes  is  first  of  the  gods. 

Other  sky-gods  are  Anhcr,  '  He  who  goes  above,' 
god  of  Them  or  Girgeh ;  and  Horns  as  the  sky, 
supported  by  four  pillars  who  are  the  four  sons  of 
Horus.  The  mixtures  of  ideas  in  later  times  are  so 
complex,  and  so  combined  with  the  theology,  that 
we  cannot  touch  on  them  here.  Our  object  has 
been  to  show  the  primitive  ideas,  and  the  various 
nuclei  of  thought  which  were  combined. 

LmmATURB. — A.  Wiedemann,  Relig.  of  the  Ano.  Egyptian*, 
Lond.  1897,  also  his  art  in  HDB,  vol.  v.  pp.  176-197 ;  G 
Maspero,  Dawn  of  Civilization,  Eng.  tr.,  Lond.  1894 ;  A 
Erman,  Handbook  of  Egyptian  Religion,  Eng.  tr.,  Lond.  1907. 

W.  M.  Flinders  Petrie. 
COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Greek). 
— Since  the  word  '  cosmogony '  describes  the  origin 
of  the  universe  by  the  figure  of  birth,  it  suggests 
to  us  in  the  first  instance  accounts  of  a  mainly 
poetic  and  mythological  kind.  Yet  science  also 
has  its  fairy  tales,  and  one  who  sought  for  infor- 
mation about  Greek  cosmogonies  might  not  un- 
reasonably look  for  some  account  of  that,  for 
example,  which  is  contained  in  the  Timceus.  If 
this  be  introduced,  so  should  those  of  one  or  two 
other  philosophical  systems.  We  propose,  there- 
fore, to  deal  first  with  what  may  be  called  the 
poetic  cosmogonies,  and  afterwards  with  the  philo- 
sophical. We  shall  devote  rather  more  space  to 
the  former,  as  being  probably  less  familiar  to  most 
readers.  In  the  case  of  the  latter,  we  shall  take 
three  typical  examples,  describe  them  briefly,  and 
try  to  show  the  place  of  each  in  the  history  of 
Greek  thought  as  to  the  relation  between  God  and 
the  world. 

1.  Poetical  cosmogonies.— i.  Homer.— We 
find  in  Homer  not  a  complete  cosmogony,  but 
ideas  of  a  cosmogonical  kind,  or,  rather,  of  a 
geogonical,  as  all  he  is  concerned  about  is  the 
world  in  which  we  live.  In  H.  xiv.  246,  Oceanus  is 
the  father  (ytvto-it)  of  all  the  gods,  and  in  xiv.  201 
he  is  the  father,  and  Tethys  the  mother.  The 
latter  name  is  usually  derived  (F.  Lnkas,  Kos- 
mogonien,  p.  154 n.)  from  8fjo6ai,  'to  suck'  (Hi0i]= 
'  nurse ').  Tethys  will  then  symbolize  the  suckling 
mother,  Earth.  But  behind  these  Nature-powers 
stands  a  third  still  more  august,  the  goddesB  Night. 
In  Jl.  xiv.  244,  Zeus  is  referred  to  as  younger,  in- 
deed, but  more  potent,  than  Oceanus ;  Night,  on 
the  other  hand,  even  Zeus  fears  to  offend  (to.  259  ff. ). 
Lukas,  therefore,  follows  Damascius  (6th  cent. 
A.D.),  our  chief  authority  on  the  first  principles 
of  the  Greek  cosmogonies,  in  supposing  that,  for 
Homer,  Night  was  the  supreme  geogonical  con- 
ception (Damasc  xtpl  rptirur  apx^y,  c.  124,  ed.  Kopp, 
1826,  p.  382). 

2.  Oldest  Orphic  cosmogony. — To  this  head 
Lukas  refers  those  fundamental  conceptions  which 
in  various  fragmentary  notices  are  directly  as- 
cribed to  Orpneus.  Not  the  least  evidence  of  their 
antiquity  is  their  practical  identity  with  what  we 
have  found  in  Homer.  Eudemus  the  Peripatetic 
declared,  according  to  Damascius  (I.e.),  that  Orpheus 
made  his  beginning  with  Night.  John  Lydus  (6th 
cent.  A.D. )  stated  that  Orpheus'  three  first  principles 
were:  Night,  Earth,  Heaven  (Lobeck,  Aglaoph. 
1829,  i.  494).  Plato,  again,  quotes  a  couplet  as 
from  Orpheus,  describing  Oceanus  and  Tethys  as 
the  first  wedded  pair  (Crat.  402  B),  while  he  in- 
forms us  in  the  Timarus  (41  A)  that  Oceanus  and 
Tethys  were  the  offspring  of  Earth  and  Heaven. 
As  the  former  statement  is  expressly  referred  to 
Orpheus,  we  may  be  sure  that  he  had  the  same 


BSBS  .? i 


146 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Greek) 


real  or  fancied  authority  for  the  latter.  In  this 
Orphic  cosmogony,  it  will  be  seen,  Oceanus  and 
Tethys  are  a  degree  less  venerable  than  in  Homer  ; 
Earth  and  Heaven  are  the  older  pair.  Yet  the 
difference  is  insignificant,  and  here,  as  in  Homer, 
Night  is  the  supreme  conception.  According  to 
Gruppe  [Griech.  Cultc,  etc.,  1887,  i.  613  f.),  the  cos- 
mogony of  Jl.  xiv.  was  borrowed  from  the  Orphic. 
But  the  question  of  their  relation  is  an  extremely 
difficult  one,  which  cannot  be  discussed  here. 

3.  Hesiod.— In  the  introduction  to  his  Theogony, 
Heaiod  actually  names  Earth,  Heaven,  and  Night 
— the  reputed  Orphic  trinity — as  the  sources  of  the 
gods  (verses  106-107) ;  and  one  feels  that,  whatever 
its  origin,  he  is  using  a  familiar  and  probably 
already  ancient  formula.  But,  at  the  outset  of  the 
poem  proper,  he  proceeds  to  give  ns  what  in  fact, 
though  not  in  name,  is  a  cosmogony  of  his  own 
(verses  116-136).  Its  outline  is  as  follows :  In  the 
beginning  was  Chaos,  after  whom,  on  the  one 
hand,  came  Gaia  and  Eros,  and,  on  the  other, 
Erebus  and  Night.  Erebus  and  Night  were  the 
parents  of  jEther  (or  Light)  and  Day.  Gaia  of 
herself  produced,  first  Uranus  (Heaven),  that  he 
might  be  a  cover  to  her  round  about,  and  that  she 
might  be  a  secure  dwelling-place  for  the  gods ;  and 
after  him  the  mountains  ana  seas.  Lastly,  mating 
with  Uranus,  she  became  mother  of  all  the  gods, 
except  the  few  who  sprang  from  Erebus  and  Night. 

At  the  top,  then,  of  Hesiod's  cosmogony  stands 
Chaos.  Its  meaning  has  been  variously  interpreted 
by  ancient  no  less  than  by  modern  commentators. 
It  has  been  taken  for  Water,  Air,  Fire,  and  Space 
(cf.  for  ref.  Lukas,  op.  cit.  p.  157  f.).  Etymology 
has  been  appealed  to  in  each  case.  Bnt  no  deriva- 
tion seems  more  probable  than  that  from  xa  or  xa" 
(the  root  of  x'l™,  '  to  gape,'  xa"v0^t  X^f^t  Lat. 
hisco,  hiatus,  etc.).  Thus  we  get  the  meaning  of 
Space,  and  this  farther  accords  with  the  manner  in 
wnich  Hesiod  seems  to  have  arrived  at  his  first 
principle,  viz.  by  abstraction.  In  pondering  the 
origin  of  the  universe,  he  thinks  away  one  by  one 
its  various  contents,  until  he  reaches  Space  as 
the  final  presupposition  of  all  things.  As  Time 
comes  first  in  the  Phoenician  cosmogony  given  by, 
Eudemus,  and,  as  we  shall  see,  in  some  Greek 
cosmogonies,  so  does  Space  in  this  of  Hesiod. 
Zeller  (Pre-Socr.  Phil,  i  88  f.)  agrees  with  Lukas 
that  Space  was  Hesiod's  first  principle,  and  that  he 
reached  it  by  abstraction,  but  thinks  that  Hesiod 

fiictured  it '  as  an  immeasurable,  waste,  and  form- 
ess  ma-ss,'  while  Lukas  understands  by  it  the  mere 
unlimited  void. 

On  the  next  cosmogonical  stage  we  have  two 
pairs,  of  which  the  first  is  Gaia  and  Eros.  Gaia  is 
Earth,  not  however  as  an  element,  but  as  a  vaguely 
conceived  mass.  There  is,  at  first  sight,  something 
detached  about  the  appearance  of  Eros.  He  enters 
the  stage  with  the  others,  but  seems  to  perform  no 
role.  But  the  reason  is  that  he  is  a  potency  rather 
than  a  person.  He  is  the  soul  of  all  the  unions 
here  recorded.  He  is  the  Eros,  not  of  art,  but  of 
early  local  cult  like  that  at  Thespiss  (Pans.  ix. 
27.  1).  who  was  life  and  love  in  one,  and  was  taken 
over  by  the  Orphics  (cf.  Gomperz,  Gr.  Thinkers, 
i.  89,  and,  for  the  connexion  of  Eros  with  the 
Orphics,  J.  Harrison,  Proleg.  to  Gr.  lielig.  ch.  xii. ). 
We  are  not  told  how  Gaia  and  Eros  came  into 
being.  They  may  symbolize  matter  and  spirit, 
but  they  are  not  derived  from  Chaos  as  a  higher 
principle.  The  ruling  principle  of  the  cosmogony 
is  not  that  of  cause  and  effect,  but  that  of  sequence 
in  time.  We  only  hear  that  Gaia  and  Eros  came 
afterwards  (rVsira).  And  the  same  is  doubtless 
true  of  the  second  pair,  Erebus  and  Night.  They 
are  said  to  have  come  ix  Xdeoj,  but  the  etc  may  be 
merely  local  (Space  being  referred  to),  or  temporal, 
or  both.     Accordingly  Gaia,   Eros,   Erebus,   and 


Night  occupy  together  the  second  cosmogonicai 
stage. 

A  step  further  removed  from  Chaos  are  ^Ether 
and  Day,  who  are  children  of  Erebus  and  Night. 
So  the  unrelieved  darkness  gives  place  to  the  suc- 
cession of  night  and  day.  Earth  also  at  this  stage 
gives  birth  to  Heaven,  that  he  may  shield  hex 
with  his  vault,  to  the  mountains  also  and  the  seas; 
and  then,  when  all  is  ready  for  their  reception, 
Earth  and  Heaven  become  the  parents  of  the  gods. 

In  Hesiod's  cosmogony  there  is  no  real  attempt 
to  explain  the  causes  of  things.  But  it  has,  accord- 
ing to  Lukas,  two  elements  of  speculative  worth — 
the  conception  of  purpose  in  creation  (the  pro- 
vision of  a  safe  home  for  the  gods),  and  the  far- 
reaching  abstraction  by  which  the  poet  goes  back 
to  Space,  and  then  step  by  step  reconstructs  the 
world. 

Passing  by  Acusilaus,  a  prose  chronicler  of  the  6th 
cent.,  and,  like  Hesiod,  a  native  of  Bceotia,  whose 
cosmogony,  contained  in  Damascius,  resembles 
Hesiod's,  and  has  also  a  marked  Orphic  colouring 
(Lukas,  op.  cit.  pp.  162-163),  we  come  next  to — 

4-  Pherecydes. — He  was  a  native  of  Syros,  but 
lived  at  Athens  at  the  court  of  Pisistratus  (6th 
cent.  B.C.).  At  Athens  'he  founded  an  Orphic 
community,  though  how  far  he  was  the  disciple 
and  prophet  of  the  Orphic  doctrines  we  are  hardly 
able  to  say '  (Gomperz,  op.  cit.  i.  86).  His  own  work 
has  been  lost,  but  numerous  notices,  which  have 
come  down  to  us  from  ancient  times,  and  which 
relate  to  various  parts  of  his  cosmogony,  enable  us 
to  form,  though  with  reserve  on  some  disputed 
points,  a  tolerably  full  as  well  as  reliable  estimate 
of  his  system.  According  to  both  Damascius  (c 
124,  ed.  Kopp,  p.  384)  and  Diog.  Laert.  (i.  119), 
Pherecydes  derived  the  universe  from  three  first 
principles — Zas  (-Zeus),  Chronos,  and  Chthonia 
(or  Chthon).  At  the  summit  of  the  cosmogony, 
then,  stands  Zeus.  He  is  probably  best  regarded 
as  a  purely  spiritual  principle  (so,  e.g.,  Arist.  Met. 
xiv.  4,  1091a,  and  many  moderns,  bat  cf.  e.g.  Zeller, 
op.  cit.  i.  91),  so  far  as  mind  was  consciously  dis- 
tinguished from  matter  at  that  early  date.  The 
spiritual  interpretation  is  confirmed  by  the  state- 
ment of  Proclus  (5th  cent.  A.D.) — which  at  the  same 
time  presents  a  new  and  interesting  phase  of  the 
cosmogony — that  the  Zeus  of  Pherecydes  changed 
himself  into  Eros  when  he  meant  to  create  the 
world  (Tim.  155).  Zeus  as  such,  therefore,  stand* 
outside  the  world;  he  is  the  principle  of  supremjt 
might.  Chronos,  the  second  member  of  the  trinity, 
naturally  denotes  the  Time,  in  which  everything 
happens,  and  occupies  an  analogous  position  to 
Space  in  Hesiod's  cosmogony.  Lastly,  Chthonia 
must  be  taken  to  mean  either  primary  matter 
(Lukas,  op.  cit.  p.  170)  or  the  Earth-spirit  (Gomperz, 
op.  cit.  i.  88). 

Some  of  the  ancients  asserted  that  voter  was  Pherecydes'  first 
principle  ;  but  this  conflicts  not  only  with  Diog.  Laert.  bat  with 
the  more  detailed  account  of  the  cosmogony  given  in  Damascius. 
A  full  discussion  of  this  obscure  and  difficult  question  will  be 
found  In  Lukas,  op.  cit.  pp.  1C  I  170,  or  Zeller,  op.  cu.  i.  93-Mn. 

As  regards  the  relation  of  the  three  principles  to 
one  another,  Damascius  implies  that  Zeus  was  in 
some  sense  first ;  but  his  exposition  is  purely  Neo- 
Platonic  It  is  safer,  therefore,  to  trust  the  more 
objective  Diogenes,  according  to  whom  the  three 
first  principles  of  Pherecydes  were  alike  eternal 
( V»  <*f<). 

The  cosmogony  begins  when  Chronos  produces 
from  his  seed  Fire,  Air,  and  Water,  who  then  in 
turn  beget  the  five  families  of  the  gods.  Thus  gods 
and  elements  alike  are  the  offspring  of  Time.  And 
now  Zeus-Eros  plans  to  create  the  world.  Bat  at 
this  stage,  according  to  Max.  Tyrius  (Dissert,  xxix. 
p.  304,  ed.  Davis ;  cf.  also  Celsus  ap.  Origen  e.  Cels. 
vi.  42,  et  al. ),  a  fearful  conflict  intervenes  betwixl 
Cronos  (not  to  be  confused  with  Chronos)  and  the 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Greek) 


147 


dragon  Ophioneus  for  the  lordship  of  Nature. 
Only  when  Cronos  wins  and  the  dragon  is  cast  into 
the  sea  can  Zeus  set  about  his  creative  task.  The 
episode  is  not  quite  of  a  piece  with  the  cosmogony, 
since  Zeus  is  from  eternity, — there  is  no  Cronos 
before  him.  But  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that 
Pherecydes  employed  the  myth.  Perhaps,  as  Philo 
of  Byblus  states  (op.  Eus.  Prccp.  Ev.  i.  10,  33),  he 
borrowed  it  from  the  Phoenicians.  In  any  case  the 
meaning  is  clear :  before  the  ordered  world,  the 
t&rfuK,  can  be  established,  a  viotory  must  be  won 
over  the  forces  of  disorder. 

The  final  stage  is  related  by  Clem.  Alex.  (Strom. 
vi.  621  A) :  'Pherecydes  the  Syrian  says :  Zas 
makes  a  mantle,  large  and  fair,  and  broiders  on  it 
earth  and  ocean  and  ocean's  dwellings.'  Again  he 
speaks  (id.  642  A)  of  '  the  winged  oak  and  the  em- 
broidered mantle  that  rests  upon  it.'  The  '  winged 
oak '  is  no  doubt '  the  earth  floating  freely  in  space ' 
—a  conception  lately  introduced  by  Anaximander 
(Gomperx,  op.  cit.  i.  89).  The  rest  of  the  imagery 
explains  itself. 

Points  of  likeness  between  the  cosmogonies  of 
Pherecydes  and  Hesiod  will  readily  occur  to  the 
reader.  Here  we  only  note  points  in  which  Phere- 
cydes marks  an  advance.  In  the  first  place,  Zeus, 
according  to  the  interpretation  here  followed,  and 
even  on  the  lower,  is  a  more  spiritual  conception 
than  Chaos  (Space).  In  the  second,  there  is  a  cer- 
tain suggestion  of  science  in  the  cosmogony.  The 
four  elements  are  named  before  the  formation  of 
the  world.  So  far,  indeed,  as  our  accounts  go, 
Pherecydes  does  not  work  the  suggestion  out.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  clearly  treated  Eros  (Love)  as  a 
oosmical  principle,  and  one  cannot  but  suspect  that, 
if  his  whole  work  had  reached  us,  we  should  have 
found  that  Zeus-Eros  used  the  elements  as  materials 
for  his  creative  task. 

Damascius  (c.  124,  ed.  Kopp,  p.  385)  gives  a  frag- 
ment of  a  cosmogony  by  the  Cretan  Epimenides 
(c.  600  B.O.).  In  this  cosmogony  we  meet  for  the 
first  time  among  the  Greeks  the  doctrine  of  the 
World-Egg.  But  it  is  little  more  than  mentioned, 
and  so  we  shall  pass  at  once  to  give  some  account 
of  the  later  Orphic  cosmogonies,  in  which  it  plays 
a  prominent  part. 

5.  Later  Orphic  cosmogonies. — In  a  former 
section  we  dealt  with  certain  thoughts  about  the 
origin  of  the  world  which  ■were  ascribed  to 
Orpheus,  but  here  we  are  dealing  with  entire 
systems.  They  are  highly  mystical  and  panthe- 
istic, and,  though  fanciful  and  grotesque,  are  most 
naturally  referred  to  a  period  of  religions  and 
philosophical  syncretism.  Hence  some  critics  like 
Zeller  (op.  cit.  i.  100  ft)  refuse  to  regard  any  of 
them  as  earlier  than  the  1st  or  2nd  cent.  B.C. 
Others,  however,  assign  a  much  earlier  date  to  the 
one  which  Damascius  tells  us  was  contained  in 
the  current '  Rhapsodies,'  and  which  he  describes  as 
the  usual  Orphio  theology.  Thus  O.  Gruppe  (in 
Roscher,  ».«.  'Orpheus^  argnes  strongly,  but 
cautiously,  in  favour  of  the  view  that  it  was  formed 
in  the  6tn  cent.  B.O.  on  the  basis  of  a  still  earlier 
Orphic  myth.  To  this  system  we  now  turn  our 
attention. 

(1)  Rhapsodist  cosmogony. — This  includes  what 
the  Orphics  taught  both  about  the  Divine  nature 
and  about  its  relation  to  the  world.  The  fullest 
account  of  the  former  is  contained  in  Damascius 
(c.  123,  ed.  Kopp,  p.  380).  He  must,  indeed,  be 
used  with  caution,  owing  to  his  Neo-Platonic  bias. 
Lnkas  points  this  out,  but  thinks  he  may  be  trusted 
for  the  number,  sequence,  and  names  of  his  first 
principles.  In  this  he  seems  to  go  too  far,  but, 
If  we  combine  all  that  is  essential  in  Damascius 
with  what  we  learn  from  other  sources,  especially 
Orphic  fragments  (for  which  cf.  Gruppe,  I.e.  p. 
1139),  we  reach  the  following  result,  which  will  be 


found  in  essential  agreement  with  what,  for  ex- 
ample, is  contained  in  Zeller  (op.  cit.  i.  104)  or  in 
Gruppe  (in  Roscher,  s.v.  '  Phanes ').  At  the  summit 
of  the  syBtem  stands  Chronos  (Time).  Next  come 
/Ether  (bright,  fiery  substance,  cf. '  Stoic  cosmogony ' 
below)  and  Chaos  (Space).  Lukas  observes  that, 
though  Time  is  named  before  Space,  it  is  not 
viewed  as  producing  it,  but  merely  as  the  active 
principle,  while  Space  receives  that  which  arises  in 
Time  (but  cf.  Zeller,  I.e.).  After  ^Ether  and  Chaos 
comes  the  Egg,  which  is  viewed  sometimes  as  the 
offspring  of  Chronos  and  /Ether  (fr.  53),  sometimes 
as  that  of  /Ether  and  Chaos  (Proclus,  Tim.  i.  138). 
In  either  case  it  springs  from  /Ether,  and  is  thus, 
as  Lukas  calls  it,  an  Egg  of  Light.  Damascius  else- 
where describes  it  as ifryiiptov,  'silver- white.'  And 
it  deserves  the  name,  not  only  because  it  was 
formed  from  the  light  of  heaven,  but  because  from 
it,  as  we  shall  see,  Phanes,  the  light  of  the  world, 
proceeded.  Finally,  there  issues  from  the  Egg  the 
first  Orphic  god.  Damascius,  who  favours  trinities, 
calls  him  Phanes- Ericapseus-Metis,  which  is  gene- 
rally interpreted  '  Light,  Life-giver,  Counsel.'  But, 
above  all,  he  is  Phanes,  'Light,'  who  becomes  at 
will  the  light  of  reason,  the  light  of  life,  and — for 
he  is  also  Eros — the  light  of  love.  As  first-born  of 
the  gods  he  is  Protogonos.  There  is  something 
sublime  in  these  conceptions.  But  Phanes  was 
also  '  polymorphic,  a  beast-mystery  god,'  a  creature 
monstrous  and  grotesque,  as  in  the  fragment  quoted 
by  Proclus  (Tim.  ii.  130)  : 


)  had  he  many. 
Head  of  a  ram,  a  bull,  a  snake,  and  a  bright-eyed  lion  ' 

(j.  Harrison,  op.  eU.  p.  651). 

Such  was  the  Orphic  doctrine  of  the  Divine 
nature.  It  had  one  feature  which,  according  to 
Lnkas,  gave  speculative  value  to  the  Rhapsodist 
cosmogony.  This  is  the  effort  to  explain  the  origin 
of  life.  While  many  cosmogonies  begin  with  a 
Divine  being,  the  Orphic  sees  in  his  God  the 
last  stage  in  the  evolution  of  life  out  of  the  life- 
less. 

We  have  next  to  consider  Phanes'  relation  to 
the  world.  He  had  in  him  all  the  forces,  or 
ffWn/jaTo,  out  of  which  it  sprang.  Hence,  though 
he    was   sometimes    called    its    creator,   he    was 

fenerally  thought  of  as  having  given  it  birth, 
he  idea  took  the  form  of  a  theogony,  in  which 
the  successive  dynasties  of  gods  represent  the 
successive  stages  in  the  evolution  of  the  world. 
In  this  process,  part  of  the  god  became  the  world's 
life ;  with  the  other  he  withdrew  as  sun  into  the 
heavens,  where  only  Night  could  look  on  him, 
while  his  splendour  amazed  the  other  gods.  But 
when  Zens  attained  to  sovereignty  he  devoured 
Phanes.  Thus  the  old  order  was  dissolved,  but 
thus  also  Zeus  became  the  sum  of  all  things.  He 
became  Phanes  (see  next  section),  and  from  him  a 
new  race  of  gods,  a  new  world,  sprang.  In  his 
son,  Dionysos,  the  god  of  the'  mysteries,  Phanes 
was  born  again.  Like  Phanes,  Zeus  became  the 
world — Zeih  MtpaXj,  Zein  fUaaa.,  Ai6*  o"'  4k  t6.vto. 
t4tvict<u  (fr.  123), — but,  like  Phanes  also,  he  dwelt 
apart,  for  his  mind  was  the  ether  (Gruppe,  in 
Roscher,  s.v.  '  Orpheus '  and  '  Phanes ' ;  Pauly- 
Wissowa,  s.v.  '  Orpheus  ' ;  Zeller,  op.  cit.  p.  104  f. ; 
J.  Adam,  Relig.  Teachers  of  Greece,  p.  95  f. ; 
Lobeck,  Aglaoph.  518  ff.  ;  fr.  120  ff.). 

The  story  of  the  swallowing  of  Phanes  has 
usually  been  explained  as  a  device  to  recover  for 
Zeus  his  ancient  dignity  as  source  of  life — for  had 
he  not  long  ago  devoured  Metis  and  borne  Athene? 
This  could  be  done  by  showing  that  he  swallowed 
Phanes  who  was  also  Metis.  But  Gruppe  sees  in 
the  story  a  different  motive.  It  was  to  depict 
the  periodical  renewal  of  the  universe,  which  he 
regards  as  the  ground  thought  of  the  Rhapsodist 
cosmogony.     This  was  a  featnre  of  Stoic  cosmo- 


148 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Greek) 


gony  (see  below)  to  which  the  Orphic  doctrine  has 
other  points  of  resemblance — especially  its  pan- 
theistic materialism,  and  its  view  of  ^Ether  as  the 
principle  of  Divine  life.  On  the  whole,  it  is 
difficult  not  to  believe  that  there  was  a  close 
connexion  between  the  two  cosmogonies,  on  which- 
ever side  the  borrowing  lies. 

(2)  The.  cosmogony  of  Hieronymus  and  Hellanicus. 
— From  the  Rhapsodist  theogony,  Damascius  passes 
to  one  which  he  describes  as  i]  nard.  rhv  ' IepuViuAoi' 
(pepo/xivri  «ai  'EXXdn/coj'.  It  is  uncertain,  and  cannot 
be  here  discussed,  whether  it  was  known  to 
Hellanicus  of  Lesbos  in  the  5th  cent.  B.C.,  or  was 
published  under  his  name  by  Hieronymus  in  one  of 
the  later  pre-Christian  centuries.  It  was  generally 
Orphic  in  character,  but  differed,  as  Damascius 
indicates,  from  the  current  Orphic  theology.  We 
cannot,  indeed,  be  sure  as  to  its  precise  form.  This 
is  due  chiefly  to  the  fact  that  we  find  in  Athena- 
goras  (2nd  cent.  A.D. )  what  is  evidently  a  different 
version  of  the  same  original  doctrine.  The 
differences  will  be  afterwards  mentioned.  Mean- 
time we  shall  notice  briefly  the  main  points  in 
Damascius'  version. 

At  the  head  of  this  cosmogony  we  find,  not 
Chronos,  as  in  the  last,  but — Water  and  Slime. 
Out  of  these  springs  Chronos.  This  does  not  mean 
that  Time  is  not  viewed  as  an  active  first  principle, 
but  only  that  it  is  more  concrete.  Here  Time  is 
viewed  as  force — force  which  presupposes  matter 
to  work  on.  The  Orphic  imagination  runs  riot  in 
depicting  this  force.  Chronos  is  a  winged  dragon 
with  the  heads  of  a  bull  and  a  lion,  and  betwixt 
them  the  face  of  a  god.  He  is  Chronos-Herakles 
-Ananke-Adrasteia.  Herakles  betokenB  his 
might,  Ananke  his  necessity,  Adrasteia  his  inevit- 
ability. Next,  Chronos  produces  Mi\ier,{  Chaos, 
and  Erebus.  We  met  jEther  and  Chaos  in  the 
Rhapsodist  cosmogony,  but  here  they  follow  after 
primary  matter,  and  so  Either  is  more  grossly 
conceived  as  humid  (vbrepot).  In  the  same  way 
Erebus  is  misty  (cS/mxXuSes).  Lastly,  in  the  midst 
of  the  vaporous  space,  with  its  mingled  light  and 

floom,  Chronos  produced  an  Egg  (u)6i>  tyiw-qotv). 
'his  naturally  implies  that  it  partook  of  the  sub- 
stance with  which  space  was  filled.  It  was,  there- 
fore, formed  out  of  grosser  elements  than  the  Egg 
of  the  Rhapsodist  cosmogony.  Thus  also  we  are 
told  that  it  had  within  it  the  seed  of  male  and 
female,  and  likewise  of  all  manner  of  things  with- 
out life.  For  this  very  reason  it  better  deserves 
to  be  called  a  World-Egg.  But  it  is  not  an  Egg  of 
Light.  And,  lastly,  we  have  the  same  contrast  in 
the  Divine  Being,  the  Maker  and  Ruler  of  the 
world,  who  issues  from  the  Egg.  In  his  monstrous 
and  grotesque  form  he  resembles  the  first-born 
God  of  the  other  cosmogony.  But  he  has  lost  his 
title  of  Phanes,  the  god  of  light,  and  appears  as 
Protogonos-Zeus-Pan. 

As  compared  with  the  current  Orphic  doctrine, 
that  just  examined  is  marked  by  a  certain  coarse 
realism.  Both  in  form  and  spirit  it  is  less  dis- 
tinctively Greek.  In  some  points,  indeed,  it  closely 
resembles  the  Phoenician  cosmogony,  and  Zeller 
maintains  that  its  author  borrowed  directly  from 
that  source  (op.  cit.  i.  102-3  n.  ;  but,  on  the  other 
side,  cf.  Gruppe,  in  Roscher,  s.v.  '  Orpheus,' 
p.  1141). 

In  describing  the  Orphic  doctrine,  AthenagoraB,  who  was  a 
Christian,  no  doubt  selected  the  cosmogony  of  Hellanicus  and 
Hieronymus  because  he  saw  most  in  it  to  condemn.  But  what 
•pecinlly  concerns  us  is  the  form  in  which  he  presented  it.  The 
series  begins  with  Water  and  Slime,  and  out  o(  these  Chronos- 
Herakles  is  evolved.  But  here  the  resemblance  to  Damascius 
ceases.  No  mention  is  made  or  -Either,  ChaOB,  and  Erebus. 
Chronos-Herakles  produces  a  gigantic  egg,  which  breaks  into 
halves,  of  which  the  upper  forms  the  heaven,  and  the  lower  the 
earth.  In  this  naive  conception  there  is  clearly  no  element 
of  speculative  value.  The  egg  has  no  special  significance 
beyond  its  shape.      On    the   other  hand,   in  the  cosmogonies 


described  by  Damascius,  the  World-Egg  is  an  expression  of  the 
profound  thought  that  the  universe  is  an  organism,  gradually 
formed  from  an  original  germ,  in  obedience  to  the  same  law 
which  governs  every  living  thing. 

(3)  Before  leaving  tae  Orphic  cosmogonies  prooer, 
we  may  briefly  notice  three  others  of  minor  im- 
portance, (a)  The  t'rst  and  the  best  known  is  that 
of  Apollonius  Bhodius :  (3rd  cent.  B.C.),  who  in  the 
Argonautica  (i.  494  ff.)  puts  into  the  mouth  of 
Orpheus  some  verses  describing  the  origin  of  the 
world.  Here  the  separation  of  the  four  elements 
is  ascribed  to  the  action  of  Discord — an  idea 
evidently  borrowed  from  Empedocles.  The  legend 
of  Ophioneus  and  Chronos,  which  was  usee!  by 
Pherecydes  (see  above),  is  introduced  in  a  some- 
what different  and,  judging  by  internal  evidence, 
less  authentic  form  (cf.  Gomperz,  op.  cit.  i.  91). 
(b)  Alexander  of  Aphrodisias  (3rd  cent.  A.D.)  gives 
us  the  following  series :  Chaos,  Oceanus,  Night, 
Uranus,  Zeus.  This,  it  will  be  seen,  resembles  the 
older  rather  than  the  later  form  of  Orphic  cosmo- 
gonies, (c)  Lastly,  the  author  of  the  Clementine 
Recognitions  (X.  xvii.)  gives  a  brief  summary  of 
Orphic  doctrine.  Some  of  the  first  principles, 
notably  the  Egg  and  Phanetas,  remind  rrs  of  the 
Rhapsodist  cosmogony,  but  the  account  as  a  whole 
is  less  coherent,  and  strikes  one  as  probably  less 
accurate,  than  that  of  Damascius. 

6.  Aristophanes. — In  one  famous  passage  (Av. 
693  ff.)  Aristophanes  depicts  the  origin  of  the 
universe.  In  the  beginning  were  Chaos,  Night, 
Erebus,  and  Tartarus.  Into  the  bosom  of  Erebus, 
Night  laid  a  wind-born  egg  (tmnvtiuov  <#6v)  from 
which,  as  the  seasons  rolled,  Eros  sprang,  gleam- 
ing with  golden  wings.  Eros  blended  till  things 
together,  and  from  their  union  Heaven,  Ocean, 
Earth,  and  the  race  of  the  gods  were  born.  J. 
Harrison  (op.  cit.  p.  626)  calls  the  passage  about 
the  birth  of  Love  'pure  Orphism.'  And,  indeed, 
Gruppe  (in  Roscher,  s.v.  'Orpheus,'  p.  1121)  main- 
tains that  the  gold-winged  Eros  springing  from  the 
egg  was  part  of  the  oldest  Orphic  doctrine.  But 
some  details  in  the  passage  remind  us  of  other 
cosmogonies,  especially  that  of  Hesiod  (cf.  Lnkas, 
op.  cit.  p.  196). 

The  '  theologians,'  as  Aristotle  calls  those  whose 
doctrines  we  have  been  considering,  represent  a 
perfectly  distinct  phase  of  Greek  thought.  '  Their 
mind  was  less  scientific  than  that  of  the  "physio- 
logists." They  made  a  far  keener  demand  for  a 
vivid  representation  of  the  origin  and  development 
of  the  world'  (Gomperz,  op.  cit.  i.  85).  Nor  were 
they  satisfied  with  the  current  mythology.  Its 
tales  were  perhaps  too  immoral.  Certainly  its 
cosmogony  was  too  vague.  And  so  they  sought  to 
fill  up  its  gaps  partly  from  local  legend,  partly 
from  the  traditions  of  foreign  peoples. 

Qomper*  has  striven  to  show  (op.  cit.  I.  02-97)  that  various 
features  in  the  Greek  cosmogonies — the  World-Egg,  the  two- 
fold nature  of  the  Orphic  godhead,  in  which  the  male  and 
female  attributes  were  united,  and  the  Important  position 
occupied  by  Chronos  as  the  Time-principle— were  ultimately 
derived  from  Babylon,  although  the  two  former  had  probably 
their  direct  source  in  Egypt,  hut  a  dW-usalon  of  thij  question 
would  carry  us  beyond  our  present  limits. 

II.  Philosophical  costtoaoyiBs.—  The  cosmo- 
gonies we  have  examined,  though  not  without 
elements  of  speculative  value,  are  essentially  hypo- 
thetical in  character  ;  those  to  which  we  now  turn 
represent  the  effort  to  explain  the  world  on  philo- 
sophical principles,  and  in  each  case  from  a 
distinct  philosophical  point  of  view.  For  this  very 
reason,  however,  they  cannot  be  properly  under- 
stood or  appreciated  apart  from  the  general  move- 
ment of  Greek  thought.  This,  therefore,  we  must 
also  try  very  briefly  to  indicate. 

I.  Early  Ionian  philosophers. — The  earliest 
Creek  philosophers  were  natives  of  Ionia  in  Asia 
Minor.  Beginning  with  Thales,  who  flourished  at 
Mtletus  about  600  n.c,  they  each  sought  to  explain 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Greek) 


r'9 

141 


the  universe  from  a  single,  and  that  a  material 
first  principle.  They  discussed  more  or  less  fully 
the  nature  of  the  changes  which  the  primary 
matter  underwent,  but  the  ultimate  cause  of  the 
movement,  by  which  the  world  in  all  its  parts  was 
formed  out  of  material  elements,  was  a  subject  on 
which  Thales  and  his  immediate  successors  had 
little  or  nothing  to  say.  The  reason  was  that  they 
regarded  the  cause  as  inherent  in  the  nature  of 
matter  itself  (Gomperz,  op.  eit.  i.  66).  This  was  also 
true  of  Heraclitus  of  Ephesus  (e.  500  B.C.) :  to  him 
also  matter  was  '  organically  alive '  (ib.  p.  66).  But 
a  great  step  in  the  history  of  Greek  speculation  is 
marked  by  his  doctrine  of  the  Logos,  by  which  he 
gave  expression  to  the  thought  that  the  world- 
forming  process  must  be  guided  by  Intelligence. 
He  taught,  indeed,  that  all  reality  is  material, 
and  that  the  primary  element  is  Fire  ;  but,  as  ha 
assigned  to  the  latter  the  attribute  of  reason,  he 
called  it  also  the  Logos.  In  other  words,  the 
Logos  viewed  on  its  corporeal  side  was  Fire,  and 
Fire  viewed  on  its  spiritual  side  was  the  Logos 
(J.  Adam,  op.  eit.  p.  224).  Here,  then,  a  first 
principle  was  postulated,  which  was  at  once 
material  and  rational,  and  it  was  on  this  basis 
that  the  Stoic  cosmogony  (see  below)  was  after- 
wards reared.  But  before  that  time  the  great 
thinkers  of  Greece  had  sought  to  show  that  the 
world  was  framed  by  God  as  at  once  a  rational  and 
non-material  Being,  and  Heraclitus  at  least  paved 
the  way  for  that  conception  when  he  endowed  his 
First  Cause  with  the  attribute  of  reason. 

a.  The  first  Greek  philosopher  who  traced  the 
world  to  a  non-material  agency  was  Empedocles 
(c.460  B.C.).  He  did  this  in  his  doctrine  of  the 
rbnr  elements,  whose  movements  were  determined 
by  the  twofold  agency  of  Love  and  Discord  (J.  Adam, 
op.  eit.  p.  246).  But  a  far  more  important  step  in 
the  direction  of  idealism  was  taken  by  Ana: 
who,  though  born  rsther  earlier  than  Empedoeles, 
probably  had  the  woTk  of  the  latter  before  him 
when  he  wrote  (ib.  p.  254).  According  to  Aristotle, 
It  was  An&xagoras  who  first  pointed  to  the  real 
cause  of  the  movement  by  which  the  world  was 
formed.  This  cause  he  named  Nous,  or  Reason,  to 
which  also  he  seems  to  have  attributed  a  mainly,  if 
not  exclusively,  transcendent  existence  [ib.  p.  371). 

J.  Plato. — Though  Anaxagoras  did  not  make 
much  use  of  his  great  conception,  it  led  to  far- 
reaching  results.  Especially  it  brought  into  clear 
view  the  opposition  between  matter  and  spirit. 
The  opposition  may  not  be  absolute,  but  it  was 
naturally  the  distinction  between  the  two  which 
first  occupied  the  attention  of  philosophers.  It 
was  the  chief  problem  of  Plato's  Dialectic  But  it 
U  with  its  cosmologies!  aspect  that  we  are  here  con- 
cerned. If  the  First  Cause  was  purely  immaterial, 
how  could  He  act  on  matter  at  all  so  as  to  create 
the  world!  In  this  question  and  the  answer  to  it 
lies  the  chief  significance  of  the  cosmogony  which 
Plato  has  set  before  us  in  the  Timaus : 

Kvta  (part  tRim  mith  that  does  not  strictly  belong  to  it, 
tot  QMttogonv  of  the  TVm<ra*  .to  intricate,  bat  here  it  will  be 
enough  to  aontMer  Its  main  idea*.  For  >  toller  exposition  end 
dietunilo*  the  reader  m»y  he  referred  to  Jowettfe  Plato,  toL  HL, 
or  to  Aikai,  op.  eit.  p.  SftOrT. 

God  formed  the  world  out  of  a  material  so  in- 
tractable that  it  could  not  be  completely  moulded 
to  His  will.  But  Ho  introduced  into  the  primary 
substance  'as  many  proportions  as  it  was  possible 
for  it  to  receive'  (Tim.  (19  B).  The  stubborn 
power,  which  thus  rcai»t»  the  Creator,  Plato  calls 
Necessity.'  It  is  the  Mot  of  evil  in  the  world, 
and,  as  it  will  not  wholly  yield  to  God,  'the 
Creator  in  Plato  is  still  subject  to  a  remnant  of 
Necessity  which  he  cannot  wholly  overcome' 
(Jowett,  Plato,  Ui.  391). 

In  forming  the  world,  God  gave  it  a  Body  and 
also  a  SouL    (1)  The  body.     On  certain  portions  of 


primary  matter,  which  was  formless  and  chaotic, 
God  imprinted  various  mathematical '  forms '  and 
'  numbers '  (Tim.  63  B).  Thus  arose  the  four 
elements  of  which  the  body  of  the  universe  was 
composed.  The  idea  of  a  Divine  mathematician, 
in  which  Pythagorean  influence  is  plainly  visible, 
runs  through  the  whole  account  of  creation. 
According  to  Plutarch,  Plato  said  that  God  is 
always  playing  the  mathematician  (9ebt  del  yeunt- 
rpa).  (2)  lhe  soul.  Plato  describes  the  elements 
of  which  the  World-Soul  was  composed,  but  liis 
account  is  highly  metaphysical,  and  need  not 
detain  us  here.  It  is  enough  to  examine  its 
attributes.  Of  these  the  first  is  Motion.  It  is 
manifested  in  the  movements  of  the  planets 
(Tim.  36  D),  but  it  has  other  aspects,  not  directly 
referred  to  in  the  Timceus,  which  are  important 
in  estimating  the  nature  of  the  World-Soul. 
According  to  the  Laws  (x.  898  A),  the  essential 
quality  of  soul  is  self-movement.  Further,  the 
Soul  is  the  cause  of  movement  in  other  things, 
and  by  movement  (kIttio-h)  Plato  understood  every 
land  of  change  (ib.,  Phadrus,  245  C).  The 
World-Soul,  therefore,  is  the  cause,  not  only  of 
locomotion,  but  also  of  '  separation  and  combina- 
tion, growth,  decay,  and  dissolution'  (J.  Adam, 
op.  eit.  p.  368).  The  second  attribute  is  Intelli- 
gence. It  is  here  to  be  taken  in  the  widest  sense, 
for  we  are  given  to  understand  that  the  World- 
Soul  apprehends  not  only  ideas,  but  sensible  reali- 
ties, ana  such  as  lie  between  the  two  (ib.  v.  369  f . ). 
On  the  other  hand,  '  the  World-Soul,  as  described 
in  the  Timceus,  has  nothing  analogous  to  the 
principles  of  anger  and  desire  .  .  .  which,  accord- 
ing to  Plato,  constitute  so  large  and  turbulent  a 
portion  of  the  human  soul'  (ib.  p.  370).  Plato 
speaks  of  the  World-Soul  as  created.  In  what 
sense  he  used  the  term  he  nowhere  precisely  ex- 
plains, but  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  he  thought 
of  an  emanational  process.  Such  is  the  view  of 
the  writer  just  quoted,  who  thus  Bums  up  the 
cosmogonies!  process :  ■  At  the  beginning  of  Time, 
God  created  tie  Universe.  A  spirit  or  soul  went 
forth  from  him,  and  inhabited  the  body  which  he 
redeemed  from  chaos  by  imprinting  mathematical 
forms  on  primordial  matter    (ib.  p.  373). 

The  universe,  thus  formed  of  body  and  soul,  is 
described  as  eU&r  rov  ronp-ov,  fiavoyerfj?,  *  image  of 
its  Creator,  only-begotten.'  Thus  it  is  related  to 
Him  as  son  to  father.  Further,  it  is  itself  a  god,  a 
ffrds  oircSp-ot,  or  '  perceivable  god '  (Tim.  92  C).  On 
the  other  hand,  the  Creator  is  a  Being  mysteriously 
remote,  'hard  to  discover'  (ib.  28  C),  who,  when 
He  had  made  the  world,  '  abode  in  his  own  nature ' 
(0>.  42  E). 

We  may  now  see  how  the  Platonic  cosmogony 
was  an  attempt  to  explain  the  world  on  dualistic 
principles.  Since  God  as  pure  thought  could  have 
no  contact  with  matter,  Plato  wasobliged  to  assume 
for  the  work  of  creation  some  formative  principle 
separate  from  God  Himself.  Hence  the  separate 
existence  of  the  mathematical  forms  imprinted  on 
matter,  and  especially  of  the  World-Soul  incor- 
porated within  it.  It  is  from  this  point  of  view 
that  Caird  describes  the  World-Soul  as  "  a  kind  of 
bridge  to  connect  two  terms  which  it  is  impossible 
reailv  to  unite '  (Evoluticn  of  Theology  in  the  Gr. 
Phil',  ii.  266). 

4.  Although  Aristotle  (q.v.)  effectually  criticized 
the  theory  of  '  Ideas,'  which  Plato  held  to  exist 
apart  from  matter,  yet  his  own  doctrine  was  funda- 
mentally dualistic,  as  appears  from  his  view  of  the 
Divine  life  as  an  energy  of  self-contemplation. 
But  after  his  time  Greek  thought  swung  round  to 
the  opposite  pole.  Abandoning  the  dualism  by 
which  mind  and  matter,  subject  and  object,  were 
opposed  to  each  other  as  mutually  exclusive  re- 
alities, it  sought  to  explain  the  world  by  means  of 


-:3hS-i' 


160 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Greek) 


a  single  principle.  This  men  sought  where  they 
felt  Burest  of  finding  it,  in  their  own  subjective 
experience.  ThuB  they  hoped  for  a  certainty  which 
they  could  never  have  about  an  object  with  whose 
appearances  only  thoy  wore  acquainted.  It  may 
be  added  that  the  subjective  trend  in  philosophy 
was  part  of  a  general  movement  aliecting  the  last 
epoch  of  Greek  national  life,  from  Alexander  the 
Great  onwards  (Sohweglor,  But.  of  Phil.  pp.  120- 
122).  Now,  the  subjective  life  itself  has  two  sides, 
the  one  universal  and  spiritual,  the  other  individual 
and  maturial.  It  was  on  the  latter  view  of  man's 
nature  that  the  Epicureans  based  both  their  ethical 
and  their  physical  theories.  The  Stoics,  on  the  other 
hand,  appculed  in  their  Ethics  to  man's  rational 
nature,  while  in  their  Physics  they  derived  the 
world  from  a  material  principle  (for  the  reason  of 
this  apparent  inconsistency,  see  Schwegler,  op.  cit. 
p.  125).  It  will  be  seen  that  in  their  use  of  a  single 
principle  the  Stoics  and  Epicureans  returned  to 
the  point  from  which  philosophy  had  diverged  after 
the  time  of  Heraclitus,  but,  as  R.  D.  Hicks  re- 
marks (art.  '  Stoics,'  in  EBr11),  '  until  dualism  had 
been  thought  out,  as  in  the  Peripatetic  school,  it 
was  impossible  that  monism  (or  at  any  rate  material- 
istic monism)  should  be  definitely  and  consciously 
maintained. '  Both  the  Epicureans  and  the  Stoics 
had  what  may  be  called  a  materialistic  cosmogony, 
but  that  of  the  Stoics  is  in  several  ways  the 
more  important,  and  to  it  therefore  we  now 
turn. 

5.  Stoic  cosmogony. — The  Stoic  first  principle 
was  akin  to  the  Fire  of  Heraclitus,  but  of  a  subtler 
nature — a  fiery  breath  (tvevfia)  or  ether  (alBfy). 
But  in  a  more  important  respect  it  differed  from 
Heraclitus'  first  principle.  For  the  Stoic  primary 
substance  was  matter  regarded  in  its  distinctively 
active  aspect  as  force.  Viewed  in  relation  to  the 
actual  world,  it  is  thus  described  by  R.  D.  Hicks 
(loc.  cit.): 

'  Before  there  was  heaven  or  earth,  there  was  primitive  sub- 
stance or  Pneuma,  the  everlasting  presupposition  ol  particular 
things.  This  is  the  totality  of  ail  existence  ;  out  of  it  the  whole 
visible  universe  proceeds,  hereafter  to  be  again  resolved  into  it. 
Not  the  less  is  it  the  creative  force,  or  deity,  which  develop!  and 
ahapes  this  universal  order  or  cosmos.' 

So  far  the  Stoic  theory  reminds  ua  of  much  that 
we  have  already  met  with  in  other  systems.  But 
the  mode  of  the  creative  activity,  as  conceived  by 
the  Stoics,  was  altogether  new.  The  Stoic  primary 
substance,  be  it  remembered,  is  matter  and  force  in 
one  (cf.  Zeller,  Stoics,  etc.,  p.  148  :  '  the  forming 
force  ...  is  in  itself  something  material,'  etc.). 
Its  force  is  that  of  tension,  the  expansive  and  dis- 
persive pressure  due  to  heat,  and  the  extremity  of 
the  tension  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  all  distinction 
of  particular  things,  due  to  relative  density,  is  lost 
within  it.  It  cannot  long  withstand  the  intensity 
of  this  inward  pressure.  It  sways  to  and  fro,  and 
this  movement  cools  a  little  the  glowing  ether. 
Condensation  begins,  and  with  it  the  first  dis- 
tinction within  the  primal  substance— the  separa- 
tion of  force  from  matter.  Matter  is  now  the 
relatively  passive ;  but,  as  first  formed,  it  differs 
but  little  from  the  pure  activity  of  the  substance 
from  which  it  sprang.  It  is  the  element  of  fire. 
But  again,  as  condensation  proceeds,  fire  produces 
air,  and  this  in  turn  the  grosser  elements  of  water 
and  earth.  Throughout  the  process,  however,  the 
more  active  substance  never  quite  surrenders  its 
own  nature.  Thus  only  a  portion  of  air  becomes 
water  or  earth,  and  something  of  the  pure  Pneuma 
itself  remains  in  the  ether  which  stretches  above 
and  around  the  world.  As  already  seen,  the  dis- 
tinction of  active  and  passive  in  the  case  of  the  four 
elements  is  only  relative  ;  and  this  appears  still 
further  in  the  blending  of  the  elements  with  one 
another,  and  the  formation  of  all  particular  things. 
In  the  universe  thus  formed  the  finer  substances  are 


those  in  which  the  tension  of  the  primary  Bubstance 
is  greatest,  and  the  solid  are  those  in  which  it  is  most 
relaxed,  and  in  which  matter  appears  most  inert 
and  passive.  And,  finally,  all  the  shapes  and  other 
attributes  of  things  are  referred  to  the  ethereal 
force.  Here  the  need  of  a  guiding  Intelligence  is 
most  felt.  And  in  fact  the  force  moving  in  the 
world  was  to  the  Stoic  the  Soul  of  the  World. 
Although  material,  it  was,  like  the  Fire  of 
Heraclitus,  also  intelligent,  even  as  the  \o-yot 
irirepixaTiKol  before  the  dawn  of  creation  slumbered 
within  it. 

The  Stoic  cosmogony  was  the  chief  attempt 
made  by  the  Greeks  not  merely  to  derive  but  to 
explain  the  origin  of  the  world  from  a  purely 
material  first  principle.  It  was  ingenious,  and 
its  account  of  the  manner  in  whioh  force  works  in 
the  material  world  contained  elements  of  permanent 
value.  But  it  went  too  far  in  treating  force  as  a 
genetic  first  principle.  For  material  energy  is 
always  relative  to  matter  as  passive  and  inert. 
Nor  does  it,  indeed,  appear  that  the  Stoics  con- 
ceived of  force  as  anything  else  than  the  formative 
aspect  of  matter  (cf.  Zeller,  I.e.).  Nevertheless,  by 
regarding  it  as  a  primary  snbstance  out  of  which 
the  world  was  evolved,  they  ipso  facto  ascribed  to 
it  an  independent  reality.  Hence  the  Stoic  first 
principle  was  an  abstraction  which  could  explain 
nothing. 

6.  Neo-Platonic  cosmogony. — Before  leaving 
the  Greek  cosmogonies,  we  must  notice  briefly  a 
second  and  very  different  attempt  to  explain  the 
origin  of  the  world  from  a  monistic  standpoint. 
We  refer  to  the  system  of  the  Neo-Platonists,  who 
belonged  to  the  last  period  of  Greek  thought, 
when  Stoicism  and  Epicureanism  had  run  their 
course.  The  Neo-Platonists  taught  that  the  ulti- 
mate source  of  being  was  neither  matter  nor 
spirit,  but  a  real  unity  transcending  both.  In  this 
they  might  seem  to  quit  the  subjective  standpoint 
of  the  later  philosophical  systems.  Yet  in  reality 
theirs  was  the  most  subjective  of  all.  They  found 
the  key  to  the  Divine  nature  solely  in  the  sub- 
jective side  of  human  experience,  in  the  unity 
given  to  outward  impressions  by  the  thinking  sub- 
ject. They  taught  also  that  the  material  is  less 
real  and  perfect  than  the  ideal  world,  that  intel- 
lectual cognition  is  the  pathway  to  truth  and 
goodness,  and  that  actual  contact  with  these 
realities  is  attained  only  by  means  of  an  '  ecstasy,' 
in  which  the  distinction  between  subject  and 
object  disappears. 

The  Neo-Platonists  claimed  that  their  doctrine 
was  the  direct  outcome  of  Plato's  teaching,  but  in 
this  they  did  less  than  justice  to  the  objective 
element  in  the  latter.  No  doubt  there  were 
features  in  Plato,  especially  the  terms  in  which  he 
described  the  transcendence  of  God,  which  gave 
some  support  to  this  claim.  But  Neo-Platonism 
owed  far  more  to  Oriental  influence,  the  causes  of 
which  we  cannot  stop  to  inquire  (cf.  Ueberweg, 
Hist.  ofPhilos.  i.  222  f.).  It  is,  in  fact,  a  blend  of 
Greek  and  Oriental  elements.  It  may  be  added  that 
'  the  religious  philosophy  of  the  Alexandrian  Jews 
and  the  Gnosis  of  early  Christianity  are  products 
of  the  same  elements,  but  under  an  Oriental  form  ' 
(ib.  p.  223). 

Plotinus  (A.D.  204-269)  is  the  most  representative 
teacher  of  this  school.  Of  his  doctrine,  contained 
in  the  six  Enneads,  which  were  published  by 
his  pupil  Porphyry,  a  very  brief  summary  must 
suffice  :— The  first  principle,  from  which  Plotinus 
derives  the  universe,  is  called  by  him  the  One,  or 
the  Good.  This  supreme  essence  is  absolutely 
transcendent,  and  incognizable.  It  cannot  be  de- 
scribed as  either  Being  or  Intelligence,  for  either 
epithet  would  imply  a  limitation  of  its  absolute 
unity.     It  is  trtKewa  rf)s  mVtas  and  also  evtictiva 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Hebrew) 


151 


Foijcxeon.  It  is  not  however,  irrational,  bnt  only 
supra- rational  (iven/ie£n«6i  -ri>r  rou  <pvair).  Its  title 
of  '  the  Good '  immediately  reminds  lis  of  the 
Supreme  Being  in  Plato.  Bnt,  in  spite  of  the 
abstract  manner  in  which  '  the  Good '  or  '  the  Idea 
of  the  Good '  is  described  in  the  Republic,  it  is  clear 
that  Plato  ascribed  to  it  both  being  and  intelli- 
gence. (For  the  meaning  of  ■  the  Good '  in  Plato, 
and  for  a  comparison  with  Plotinus,  see  J.  Adam, 
op.  eit.  p.  446  f.,  and  Ueberweg,  op.  eit.  i  122, 
246  f.) 

As  the  sonrce  of  all  things,  the  One  produces  first 
of  all  the  highest  kind  of  actual  being,  which  is 
Mind  (reus),  i-«.  the  Divine  Mind  (Ueberweg,  op.  eit. 
L  248).  In  this  Mind  the  Ideas  (rmrrd)  are  im- 
manent. They  are  not,  however,  mere  thoughts, 
but  parts  of  the  Mind's  essence,  and  for  this 
reason,  on  which  Plotinus  lays  great  stress,  they 
are  absolutely  true  objects  of  thought.  Thus  the 
Nous  is  at  once  the  Subject  and  the  Object  of 
knowledge ;  in  the  first  aspect  Plotinus  regards  it 
aa  at  rest,  in  the  second  as  active.  But  how  did 
the  Nous  originate  from  the  One?  Plotinus  re- 
gards this  as  a  problem  so  difficult  that  it  must  be 
approached  with  prayer  (Enn,  v.  I,  6).  He  finds 
an  analogy  in  the  idea  of  radiation  {wtpCXm^vfns). 
The  Nous  arises  from  the  One  like  brightness  from 
the  sun  (ij.  >.  The  great  difficulty,  of  course,  was  to 
explain  how  actnal  Being  could  arise  from  a  source 
to  which  the  attribute  of  Being  was  denied.  Bnt 
he  finds  a  solution  '  in  the  transcending  power  of 
the  One,  which  latter,  as  the  superior,  can  send 
forth  from  the  superabundance  of  its  perfection 
the  inferior,  without  having  contained  the  latter, 
as  such,  in  itself*  (Ueberweg,  op.  eit.  i.  247;  Enn. 
▼.2,1). 

As  the  One  produces  Mind,  so  does  Mind  produce 
Soul  dtwjrt*  V"i  ro5»>  Enn.  v.  1,  7).  And,  as 
Ideas  appear  alcm»  with  Mind,  so  does  Body  along 
with  Soul.  As  Plotinus  expresses  it,  Soul,  as  it 
issues  from  Nous,  extends  itself  into  the  corporeal, 
aa  the  point  extended  becomes  a  tine  (ib.  iv.  1). 
Plotinus  says  that  the  Soul  has  a  divisible  element, 
yet  he  also  says  that  it  is  immaterial.  He  tries  to 
reconcile  the  two  statements  as  follows :  '  The 
soul  is  per  se  indivisible,  being  divided  only  as 
related  to  the  bodies  into  which  it  enters,  since 
these  could  not  receive  it  if  it  remained  undivided ' 
(if*,  iv.  21 ;  Ueberweg,  oy.  cit.  i.  249).  The  Soul 
la  its  entirety  is  present  throughout  the  body,  yet 
in  all  its  faculties — reason,  memory,  perception, 
and  even  life-force — is  absolutely  separable  from 
it.  There  is  a  plurality  of  souls.  The  highest  of 
all  is  the  Soul  of  the  World,  but  other  souls  have 
also  a  separate  existence  of  their  own  (Enn.  iv. 
8,  7,  W.  9). 

Lastly,  what  is  the  Neo-Platonist  view  about  the 
nature  and  origin  of  trailer?  In  Plato,  matter  and 
mind  remain  as  two  ultimate  facta.  Plotinus,  on 
the  other  hand,  declares  that  the  soul,  in  virtue  of 
Its  mobility,  begets  matter  (ib.  iii.  7,  10,  iv.  3,  9 ; 
Ueberweg,  toe.  eit.  i  249).  Now,  so  fax  as  the 
material  is  known  to  ns,  i.e.  so  far  as  it  possesses 
form,  it  partakes  of  an  ideal  nature.  But  Plotinus 
recognizes  that  beneath  that  form  there  is  a  rub- 
ttratvm  {vrsnianer),  a  something  which  is  different 
from  the  form  and  whieh  might  take  other  forms. 
This  substratum  he  calls  the  ;Jri#oj,  or  'depth,'  of 
each  thing,  and  he  says  that  it  has  no  real  ex- 
istence ;  it  is  ith  a>.  He  explains  its  nature  partly 
by  reference  to  the  Ideas  wtich  are  the  objects  of 
>>ous.  In  its  most  general  sense  the  term  5\a 
('matter')  is  also  applied  to  these.  And  just 
because  they  are  objects  of  thought,  they  also 
possess  this  quality  or  ftihn,  or  'depth.'  But  they 
are  nevertheless  wholly  real,  like  the  Mind  which 
knows  them.  And  Plotinus  says  that  the  sub- 
ftratwm  of  sensible  things  is  only  a  shadow  ;«!J«,\j»j 


of  the  substratum,  as  their  form  is  but  a  shadow 
of  the  form  pertaining  to  the  Ideas. 

The  theory  whose  essential  features  we  have 
thus  tried  to  give  represents  the  last  important 
attempt  made  by  Greek  thought  to  explain  the 
origin  of  the  world.  It  fails  mainly  through  the 
abstractness  of  its  first  principle — a  Unity  of  which 
not  even  Being  can  be  predicated. 

In  its  mysticism  the  Neo- Platonic  theory  of  the 
world  reminds  us  not  a  little  of  the  Orphic  cosmo- 
gonies. It  resembles  them,  indeed,  both  in  form 
and  in  spirit,  as  might  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that 
the  notices  of  the  latter  given  by  Damascius  are 
interwoven  with  Neo-Platonic  conceptions. 

Lmuruu. — The  following,  though  only  a  selection  from  an 
immense  number  of  books  dealing  with  various  parts  of  the 
•abject,  will,  together  with  their  references,  supply  all  needed 
help  to  those  who  wish  to  study  it  further :  F.  Lukas.  Die 
Grttndbeg.  in  dm  Kosmog.  der  alien  Volker,  Leipz.,  1883,  to 
whom  the  writer  has  been  specially  indebted  in  the  first  part  of 
the  subject;  O.  Grnppe,  GriechiseAe  Culie  wnd  Myuten,  L, 
'•"^r^ft  1887,  and  artt.  '  Orpheus '  and  '  Phanes,'  la  Boscher  ; 
E.  Abel,  OrpAtca,  Lei  pa.  18S6 ;  T.  Gornperz,  St.  Thinkert, 
Ens;,  tr.,  voL  L,  London,  1301 ;  E.  Zelier,  Stints,  etc.,  new  and 
rev.  ed.,  do.  1892,  Pr*Scer.  J>ML,  voL  L  da  1881,  Out- 
lines «/  BisL  of  Or.  PhiL\  do.  1892,  Plato  and  the  Older 
Acad.  do.  1879 ;  J.  E_  Harrison,  Proleg.  to  Study  of  St. 
Relio.i,  Camb.,  U08 ;  J.  Adam,  The  Relig.  Ttaeken  of  Greets, 
Edinb.,  1808  ;  B.  Jowett,  Dialogues  of  Plats'  voL  hX,  Oxiord, 
1892:  EL  O.  Hicks,  art.  'Stoics,'  in  JSflrii,  ^o  stoic  and 
Bpieur.,  London.  1910;  T.  Whrttaler,  The  Seo-Platonists, 
Camb.  1901 ;  C  Big?,  Neoplattmism,  Loud.  1895 ;  E.  Caird, 
The  MnoL  of  TkeoL  in  Us  Gr.  PhOosophert,  Glasgow,  1904  ; 
J.  Horowitz,  PkHons  u.  Pistons  Lehre  w.  a.  Weltsehopfung, 
Marburg,  1900;  R.  Adainson,  Development  of  Gr.  PhOcs.,  ed. 
W.  B.  Sorley  and  B.  P.  HairHe,  London,  1908 ;  A  Sehwegler, 
Bands,  qf  Ou  BisL  of  Pkilos.,  Ediru  1885  ;  F.  Ueberweg, 
BisL  sfPhOos.,  voL  L,  London,  1872  ;  J.  E.  Exdmann,  HisL  of 
PhSos.,  do.  1S98 ;  A.  Haraack,  BisL  «/  Dogma,  Eng.  tr,  do. 
M»M89».  L    F.   BUBNS. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (He- 
brew).— There  are  generally  recognized  in  the 
Hebrew  Scriptures  two  formal  cosmogonies,  the 
earlier  of  which  is  contained  in  Gn  2,  beginning 
with  v.*,  or  rather  v.*. 

I.  Cosmogony  of  \. — This  story,  as  we  have  it, 
belongs  to  the  pre-exilic,  historical,  Prophetie  nar- 
rative of  the  Judspan  kingdom  (J),  which  was  in 
coarse  of  composition  from  about  the  time  of 
Solomon  until  the  middle  of  the  8th  cent.  B.C. 
The  cosmogony,  as  much  as  we  have  of  it  in  Gn  2, 
assumes  the  world  as  already  existing,  and  deals 
only  with  its  preparation  for  the  use  of  man. 
With  it  is  connected  the  story  of  the  Garden  of 
Eden,  the  Temptation,  and  the  Fall  and  its  conse- 
quences. The  object  is  not  so  much  to  answer  the 
question,  How  did  the  world  come  into  existence  ? 
as  the  questions,  Where  did  man  come  from  ?  Why 
does  man  differ  from  the  beasts  ?  especially,  Why 
does  man  have  a  sex  consciousness  and  a  sex 
shame,  which  the  beasts  do  not  have  ?  and,  Why 
must  man,  who  is  the  crown  of  creation,  toil  and 
labour  to  get  his  bread,  and  to  reproduce  his  kind, 
by  the  sweat  of  his  brow  and  the  agony  of  his 
bodyT  So  far  as  the  nature  of  man  is  concerned, 
this  cosmogony,  while  naively  primitive,  is  full  of 
a  childlike  wisdom  and  sweet  spirituality,  which 
has  commended  it  to  all  succeeding  ages,  and 
whieh  was  doubtless  the  cause  of  this  part  of 
the  J  narrative  being  preserved  at  a  time  when  the 
Pentateuch  was  cast  into  the  present  form  and 
prefaced  by  the  great  eosrnogonv  of  the  Priestly 
Code  (Gn  1-2*). 

la  the  cosmogony  of  Gn  2.  the  earth  Is  assumed  is  already  in 
existence,  a  barren  place  oa  which  chere  were  no  shrubs  and  no 
herbs,  because  -fahweh  Elohim  had  not  yet  caused  rain  to  rail 
oo  it,  and  because — a  charming  bucolic  touch,  characteristic  of 
the  anthropomorphism  of  the  whole  narrative — there  ware  ao 
men  to  till  Che  ground.    But  a  fountain  l  w  art  up  out  of  the 

*  *T»t,  practically  a  Zr-  V*y.  (the  only  other  occurrence  is  Jcb 
VST\  rendered  at  EV  '  mist.'  LXI  has  iTrr,, -which,  practically, 
Gunket  follows.  This  accord* with  the  following  narradv*,  the 
reference  being  apparently  to  the  great  source  out  of  which 
came  all  toe  risers  of  the  world,     la  this  narrative  the  waters 


g-   &i 


152 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Hebrew) 


earth  and  watered  ell  the  face  cf  the  ground  (v  *X  Then,  out 
of  the  dust  of  the  ground,  moistened  by  this  water,  Jahweh 
Echini,  like  a  potter,  made  mu.  and,  having  made  him, 
breathed  into  his  nostrils  the  breath  of  life,  whereupon  man 
became  a  living  creature.  And,  because  he  was  made  oat  of 
the  ground  (\3fnU).  therefore  he  we*  called  'man'  ('iiimX 
Then  Jahweh  Elohim  planted  a  garden  In  Eden,  far  away  to  the 
east,  and  caused  all  aorta  of  beautiful  trees  and  goodly  frulta  to 
grow  th*re,  and  the  tre*  of  life  and  the  tree  of  the  knowledge  of 
good  and  evil.  Through  the  garden,  coming  from  th*  foantain 
which  connected  with  the  waters  beneath  the  earth,  flowed  a 
great  stream,  watering  the  garden  and  dividing,  as  it  left  it, 
into  the  four  great  rivers  of  the  world — Pishon,  Gihon,  Tigris, 
and  Euphrates. 

Jahweh  Elohim  put  man  in  His  garden  to  till  it  and  guard  it, 
and  permitted  him  to  eat  of  all  the  trees  in  the  garden,  except 
only  of  the  tree  of  the  knowledge  of  good  and  eviL  Then, 
seeing  that  the  man  was  alone,  He  planned  to  give  him  a 
helpmeet,  and  formed  all  the  beasts  and  birds  and  brought 
them  to  man,  who  named  them.  But  among  them  was  found 
no  mate  for  man  Then  Jahweh  Elohim  caused  man  to  fall  into 
a  profound  sleep,  and,  taking  one  of  his  ribs,  clothed  it  with 
flesh  and  made  out  of  it  woman ;  and  her  the  man  as  once 
recognised  as  his  mate,  bone  of  his  bone  and  flesh  of  ma  flesh. 
Woman  fisAjAd)  was  she  called,  because  derived  from  man 
flsA) ;  therefore  a  man  leaves  hit  lather  and  feus  mother  and 
cleaves  to  hia  wile,  and  they  become  (literally,  by  physical 
union)  one  flesh.  And  the  two  of  them,  the  man  sad  bis  wife, 
were  Baked,  and  were  not  ashamed.  1 

The  story  here  told  is  in  many  of  its  particulars 
identical  with  the  cosmogonies  and  cosmologies 
which  we  meet  elsewhere.  The  thought  is  world 
thought,  the  oat-thinking  of  primitive  man  almost 
anywhere.  When  he  asks  himself  the  question, 
Of  what  is  man  created  ?  the  natural  answer  is : 
Dead,  he  returns  to  dust ;  therefore,  out  of  dust  he 
came ;  and  so,  as  the  potter  makes  vessels  out  of 
clay  (dust  mixed  with  water),  God  made  man.  So 
breath,  which  is  wind  (a  part  of  God's  breath),  is 
the  element  of  life ;  for,  it  the  wind  or  breath  goes 
out  of  a  man,  he  is  dead.  So,  again,  the  relation 
of  name  to  thing,  which  plays  so  important  a  part 
in  this  cosmogony,  is  not  characteristic  of  any  one 
people,  but  is  a  very  wide-spread  conception  of 
primitive  men.  Name  and  thing  are  one.  To 
know  the  name  is  to  know  the  essence  of  the 
thing ;  and  to  know  is  to  have  power  over — the 
utterance  by  Adam  of  the  names  of  the  beasts  put 
those  beasts  in  subjection  to  him  who  had  given 
them  their  names.  The  serious  plays  upon  words 
— 'ddana  and  'ddam,  tcA  and  'ts/uhd — are  based 
upon  the  same  theory  of  the  identity  of  name  and 
thing.  Of  course,  this  assumes  that  the  primitive 
language  was  Hebrew,  in  accordance  with  the 
universal  belief  of  primitive  peoples  that  their  own 
language  was  spoken  by  God  Himself.  The  story 
of  the  origin  of  mankind,  told  in  the  person  of  a 
being  bearing  the  name  '  Man,'  is  common  also  to 
various  national  cosmologies!  myths.  The  same  is 
true  of  the  relation  of  man  and  woman  here  de- 
scribed, and,  to  a  considerable  extent,  of  the  garden 
of  God  in  which  man  was  placed. 

But,  while  much  in  the  story  may  be  classed 
as  universal  prirditive  thought,  there  are  also 
certain  ear-marks  which  unmistakably  indicate 
a  Bab.  connexion  for  at  least  some  of  the  funda- 
mental thoughts  of  our  tale. 

The  park  or  garden  which  God  plants,  and  In  which  He  seta 
the  man  whom  He  creates,  is  far  off,  in  some  remote  land  away 
to  the  east.  This  is  the  ease  also  with  the  Egyptian  paradise  ; 
but,  when  we  note  the  name  Eden,  apparently  the  Bahadurs, 
'  plain,'  for  the  garden,  and  the  names  of  the  rivers  which  have 
their  source  in  it,  we  are  obliged  to  recognise  the  influence  of 
Bab.  thought.     The  garden,  it  is  true,  is  not  in  Babylonia,  yet 


beneath  the  earth  are  assumed  ;  it  is  only  with  the  rain,  which 
comes  from  above,  from  Jahweh  Elohim,  that  we  are  concerned. 
Cf.  Skinner,  ad  lac 

1  This  story  is  a  man's  story,  homo  temalit.  In  general  it  is 
an  interesting  example  of  the  methods  of  early  thought.  Man 
measures  the  universe  by  himself.  He  explains  the  relations 
of  all  about  him  by  what  he  knows  of  himself.  Woman  depends 
upon  man,  and  woman  was  made  for  man.  She  is  a  sub- 
ordinate but  very  intimate  part  of  himself.  The  rib  is  chosen 
for  the  material  of  her  construction  because  ribs  are  relatively 
numerous,  and  therefore  superfluous,  in  man's  composition, 
while  at  the  same  time  a  rib  belongs  so  much  to  the  inward 
part  of  man,  so  to  speak,  as  to  establish  by  its  use  in  the 
construction  of  woman  the  most  intimate  relation  with  himself . 


it  lies  hi  the  region  out  of  Bhich  the  riven  of  Babylonia  take 
their  origin.  It  is  a  plain  oa  the  top  of  the  Diystsnoos 
mountain  of  the  north,  where,  in  Bab.  thought,  th*  gods 
had  their  abode.  1  Probably  also  th*  fourfold  number  of  th* 
rivers  connects  itself  with  those  representations  which  we  find 
In  early  Bah.  art  of  a  four-divided  stream,  all  the  rivers  of  th* 
earth  pouring  out  from  one  great  foantain  connecting  with  the 
great  deep,  the  waters  beneath  the  earth.  In  th*  relation  of 
man  to  the  beasts,  before  woman  was  crested,  there  is  also 
at  least  s  suggestion  of  resemblance  to  th*  story  of  th*  wild 
primitive  man,  Fahani,  in  the  Bab.  Gilgam*ah  legend.  Banana 
was  made  oat  of  clay  by  the  goddess  lahtar,  in  whom  is  the 
womb  of  life.  At  th*  outset  he  consorted  with  to*  beasts  of 
the  field.  '  He  ate  grass  with  the  gazelles,  as  drank  water 
with  th*  cattle  of  the  field,  he  amused  himself  with  the  ■Tli,ri*1« 
of  the  water.'  Out  of  this  cunditioo  he  was  raised  to  tru* 
manhood  by  entering  into  relation  with  a  woman,  a  priestess  of 
lahtar,  who  came  to  antic*  him.  It  was  by  finding  *  mats  in 
her  that  he  developed  out  of  a  being  like  the  beasts  Into 
civili2abie  man.  So,  apparently,  in  the  thought  of  to*  Hsb. 
story,  Adam  was  at  first  like  Eaheni,  but  no  true  mat*  was 
found  'for  him  among  the  beasts  of  the  field.  His  manhood 
required  a  helpmeet  of  his  own  kind,  bone  of  his  bone,  flesh  of 
bis  flesh.  Perhaps  another  Bab.  clement  is  ths  eating  si  th* 
tree  of  ttfa,  which  appears  in  to*  sequel  of  this  story,  th*  Fall 
of  Man  (On  *%  This  hears  a  certain  instinWii  ill's  to  ths  Anapa 
myth,  of  winch  s  ccpy  was  found  among  ths  TaQ  es^Axcsxws 
tablets.  Th*  rhsmhim  also  which  God  placed  eastward  of  th* 
Garden  of  Eden,  appear  to  be  of  Bah.  origin.  Ths  peenfiar 
emphasis  laid  upon  Assyria  in  the  geography  of  the  Qardsnsf 
Eden,  and  apparently  on  a  very  early  Assyds,  when  Astffir,  sad 
not  Cslah  or  Nineveh,  was  th*  capital  of  Assyria,  when,  in  tact, 
the  city  of  Aahor  was  Assyria  (tor  the  Tigris  is  her*  mads  to 
Sow  to  the  east  of  Assyria),  leads  on*  to  ask  whether  the  Bna. 
elements  in  this  story  wer*  not  largely,  or  In  some  part,  mediated 
through  Upper  Mesopotamia,  with  which  toe  ancestry  of  Israel 
was  connected  by  a  vary  strong-  tradition  CL,  farther,  Oos- 
Koaasr  AD  OoSBtOiOST  (Beo.k 

But  while  the  cosmogony  of  this  story  has 
evident  connexions  with  Bab.  thought,  seen  oon- 
nexions  are  ancient  and  remote.  The  character- 
istic colouring  is  evidently  Palestinian.  It  is  the 
native  of  a  iy'vitii  land,  a  land  of  the  ba'al,  like 
Palestine  (where  fertility  comes  directly  from  the 
rain  sent  down  from  heaven),  not  the  native  of  a 
land  like  Babylonia  (where  fertility  depends  on  the 
overflowing  of  the  rivers),  who  gives  us  in  Gn  2 
the  picture  of  the  barrenness  of  the  world  before 
Jahweh  Elohim  sent  rain  and  "**"  tilled  the 
ground.  It  is  worthy  of  note)  that  similarly,  in 
the  J  version  of  the  Flood  story,  the  Flood  was 
caused  by  the  rain  which  Jahweh  sent  from  heaven, 
not  by  the  breaking  out  also  of  the  waters  of  the 
abyss  beneath.1 

Another  incidental  evidence  of  the  antiquity  of 
the  J  cosmogony,  in  addition  to  the  allusion  to 
Assyria,  is  the  relation  of  man  to  woman.  It  is 
not  the  woman  who  leaves  father  and  mother  to 
cleave  to  the  man,  but  the  man  who  leaves  father 
and  mother  to  cleave  to  his  wife — an  apparent  sur- 
vival of  the  old  matriarchy,  of  which  we  also  have 
an  example  in  the  Samson  story,  where  the  woman 
remains  with  her  tribe  or  clan  or  family,  and  is 
visited  by  the  man  (Jg  151). 

In  general,  we  may  say  of  the  cosmogony  con- 
tained in  Gn  2  that  it  is  based  upon  a  primitive 
folklore  developed  in  Palestine,  going  back  to  a 
very  great  antiquity,  into  which  have  been  ab- 
sorbed, at  some  time  or  another,  by  an  indirect 
process,  some  elements  of  Bab.  myth  and  legend, 
possibly  coming  through  the  Mesopotamian  region, 
with  which,  according  to  tradition,  the  Israelitic 
ancestors  were  closely  connected.  In  the  form 
in  which  it  has  come  down  to  us,  it  has  been 
thoroughly  Hebraized,  above  all  in  the  mono- 
theism of  its  conceptions.  The  Creation  is  due 
to  Jahweh  only.  There  is  no  other  God  men- 
tioned. He  is  Elohim  (God),  albeit  He  is  con- 
ceived of  in  a  most  anthropomorphic  fashion. 
Growing  upon  Canaanite  soil,  rooting:  in  the 
remote  past,  utilizing  in  its  composition  Bab. 
1  In  th*  most  original  Heb.  traditions  the  abode  of  God 
(Jahu)  was  in  the  south,  in  Sinai,  or  Horeb  (cf.  *.*.  Jg  6*, 
Ex  1911) ;  but,  by  a  borrowing  apparently  from  Can.  traditions 
(ultimately  derived,  probably,  from  Baby  Ionia),  it  is  also  placed 
in  the  mountain  of  the  north  (cf.  Ps  46,  Exk  11  as  is  the  account 
of  the  Deluge  (Gn  7  tt.%  ' 
»  Of.,  for  the  latter,  the  P  version  of  th*  Flood  story  (Gn  7U). 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Hebrew) 


153 


material  indirectly  derived,  it  shows,  in  the  last 
stages  of  its  development,  the  high,  spiritual 
thought  of  the  Prophetic  narrators  of  the  9th  and 
8th  cent.  B.C.,  who  paved  the  way  for  the  great 
writing  prophets  of  the  succeeding  centuries. 

The  story  was  evidently  popular  among  the 
Hebrews,  not  on  tho  side  of  what  may  be  properly 
called  its  cosmogony,  but  for  its  account  of  the 
Garden  of  God  in  Eden  and  the  Fall  of  man,  which 
we  find  particularly  used  in  later  literature  in  the 
Book  of  Ezekiel  (cf.,  for  instance,  ch.  28,  and  the 
other  chapters  dealing  with  the  fall  of  Tyre).  It  is 
this  element  also  which  has  profoundly  influenced 
Christian  thought.  The  cosmogony  proper  is 
negligible  in  its  influence  on  later  thought,  and 
is  manifestly  in  itself  very  incomplete. 

3.  Cosmogonic  myths  in  Hebrew  literature. — 
A  more  complete  and  more  systematic  cosmogony 
is  contained  in  Gn  1.  The  composition  of  this 
chapter  dates  probably  from  the  early  post-exilic 
period,  bnt  it  is  founded  on  old  myths,  which 
appear  in  mnch  older  passages,  and  which  display 
•>  striking  similarity  to  the  cosmogonic  myths  of 
Babylonia.  Some  of  these  passages  it  is  worth 
while  to  consider  before  we  analyze  the  more  sys- 
tematic and  elaborate  cosmogony  of  Gn  1. 

Ps  897"14  is  an  old  passage,  of  Galilean  origin  (as 
is  shown  clearly  by  the  use,  in  v.u,  of  Tabor  and 
Hermon  as  landmarks  of  north  and  south),  now 
forming  part  of  a  later  Psalm.  This  is  one  of 
those  Psalms  whose  words  imply  a  polytheistic 
conception  :  '  Who  among  the  clouds  is  like  unto 
Jahweh,  is  equal  to  Jahweh  among  the  sons  of  the 
gods  ? '  Jahweh  is  described  as  ruling  the  waves 
of  the  sea,  stilling  the  tumult  of  its  billows.  He 
has  smitten  and  contemptuously  treated  Rahab. 
With  His  strong  arm  He  has  scattered  His  foes. 
This  is  referred  to  as  a  part  of  the  Creation  work 
by  which  He  founded  the  heavens  and  the  earth, 
the  world  and  its  fullness,  Creation  being  depicted 
as  connected  with  a  battle  of  Jahweh  against  some 
monster,  here  called  Rahab,  and  its  allies,  who  are 
foes  of  God  or  of  the  gods. 

Ps  74U-17  is  similarly  an  ancient  passage,  ap- 
parently of  north  Israelitic  origin,1  in  a  Psalm 
Which,  in  its  later  form,  is  Maccabaan.  Here  God 
is  described  as  having,  in  olden  time,  done  wonder- 
ful works  in  the  midst  of  the  earth.  He  divided 
the  sea  by  His  strength,  He  smote  the  heads  of 
dragons  or  sea-monsters  on  the  waters,  He  crushed 
the  heads  of  Leviathan  and  gave  him  for  food  to 
the  jackals — a  more  specific  note  of  that  con- 
temptuous treatment  to  which  there  is  reference 
in  Ps  89.  That  this  is  part  of  a  Creation-myth  is 
shown  by  the  following  description,  where,  as  the 
result  of  this  battle  with  the  sea-dragons  and 
Leviathan,  God  digs  ont  the  fountains  and  the 
valleys  in  which  their  waters  run,  dries  up  the 
primitive  rivers,  forms  night  and  day,  moon  and 
son,  establishes  the  boundaries  of  the  earth,  etc. 

The  Book  of  Job,  while  itself  of  relatively  late 
origin,  is  notably  full  of  old  traits.  In  it  we  find 
a  number  of  references  to  mythical  monsters, 
with  whom  God  contended  in  connexion  with  the 
creation  of  the  world.  Of  these  the  most  note- 
worthy perhaps  is  Job  2612'4 : 

1  With  his  strength  he  troubled  the  sea, 
And  with  his  skill  he  pierced  Rahab. 
His  wind  Bpread  out  heaven, 
His  hand  slew  flying  serpent.' 
We  have  here  two  monsters — Rahab  (connected 
with  the  sea)  and  flying  serpent  (connected  with 
the  heavens).     The  battle  with  the  sea,  indicated 
in  the  firBt  line,  is  connected  with  the  piercing  of 
Kahab  j  and  bound  up  with  this  is  the  spreading 

1  Cf.,  among  other  things,  the  almost  exclusive  reference  in 
the  Asaph  Psalter  to  Jacob,  Joseph,  and  Benjamin,  and  the 
use  of  Elohim  instead  of  Jahweh — differentiating  this  collec- 
tion, or  rather  these  collections,  from  the  first  book  o!  Psalms, 
precisely  as  E  Is  differentiated  from  J  In  the  Pentateuch. 


out  of  heaven  by  His  wind,  and  the  slaughter, 
apparently  in  heaven,  of  another  monster. 

Chapters  40  and  41  deal  much  more  fully  with 
two  monsters,  here,  however,  differently  named — 
Behemoth,  whose  home  is  on  the  dry  land,  and 
the  much  more  dreadful  Leviathan,  which  in- 
habits the  deep.  These  monsters  were  evidently 
well  known  in  Heb.  tradition  of  a  later  date. 
Thus,  in  2  Es  e48"88  we  have  a  description  of  two 
living  creatureB  which  God  preserved  on  the  fifth 
day  of  creation — Behemoth  and  Leviathan — to  the 
former  of  whom  He  gave  as  hig  habitation  a  part  of 
the  dry  land  whereon  are  a  thousand  hills,  while  to 
the  latter  He  gave  that  seventh  part  of  the  earth 
occupied  by  the  sea.  In  Enoch  60'"'  we  find  the 
same  two  monsters,  with  the  further  note  that 
Behemoth,  who  occupies  the  barren  waste,  is  a 
male,  while  Leviathan,  the  monster  of  the  abyss, 
over  the  source  of  the  waters,  is  a  female.  Enoch 
64"  corresponds  somewhat  more  closely  with  the 
account  of  the  two  animals  in  Job,  in  that  it 
describes  the  water  which  is  above  the  heavens  as 
male,  and  the  water  which  is  under  the  earth  as 
female.  In  Job  7U  and  9"  we  have  incidental 
references  to  a  sea-monster  of  the  deep  called  in 
one  place  '  dragon,'  pe,1  and  in  the  other  Rahab,* 
which,  with  its  allies,  has  been  overcome  by  God 
and  imprisoned  by  Him.  In  ch.  38  there  is  no 
mention  of  the  monsters,  but  of  a  struggle  of  God 
with  the  deep  itself  (v.7'-) :  'When  the  morning 
stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God 
shouted  for  joy :  when  God  shut  up  the  sea  with 
doors,  fastening  it  in  with  bars  and  gates.'  Ac- 
cording to  the  cosmogonic  ideas  of  this  book,  '  God 
spread  ont  the  Bky,  strong  as  a  molten  mirror' 
(37u) ;  this  rests  upon  pillars  (26u),  and  above  it 
are  the  waters  held  up  by  the  clouds  (v.8) :  the 
earth  rests  upon  a  chaos  of  waters  or  a  great  sea 
(v.7) ;  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  is  Sheol  or  Abaddon 
(v.8).  Waters  are  closely  connected  with  darkness, 
and  both  those  above  and  those  below  the  earth 
form  the  habitation  of  monsters. 

Abundant  other  references,  early  and  late,  show 
this  to  be  certainly  a  very  wide-spread  view  of  the 
origin  of  the  world  among  the  Hebrews  and  later 
Jews.  There  are,  however,  slight  variants  of  this 
general  view,  and  the  monsters  of  the  deep  are 
called  by  different  names.  The  deep  itself  and 
the  chaos  to  which  the  original  deep  belonged  are 
designated  sometimes  merely  by  words  expressing 
the  sea,  at  other  times  by  more  technical  titles ; 
and  the  same  is  true  of  the  monsters  of  chaos  or 
the  deep. 

The  ancient  myth  is  applied  also  to  historical 
events,  very  much  as  we  may  find  parts  of  the 
Nibelungenlied  mixed  up  with  actual  historical 
events  of  mediaeval  history,  or  in  Babylonian 
literature  events  of  the  history  of  Erech  com- 
bined with  the  Epic  of  Gilgamesh.*  In  Is  51*  the 
delivery  from  Egypt  is  described  in  terms  of  the 
old  cosmogonic  myth  :  '  The  arm  of  Jahweh  cut 
Rahab  in  pieces,  pierced  the  dragon.'  In  Is  307 
Egypt  is  called  Rahab  because  '  she  helpeth  in 
vain.'  In  Ps  874  and  elsewhere  we  find  the  same 
use.  The  myth  is  also  applied  eschatologically. 
As  God  once  created  the  earth  after  destroying 
the  monsters  of  chaos,  so  He  shall  again,  out  of  a 
world  reduced  to  chaos  because  of  the  wickedness 
of  man,  re-create  a  new  earth  and  a  new  heaven 

1  See  also  Ezk  29W»,  Ps-Sol  22St> -84.  In  Ezekiel  the  dragon- 
myth  is  UBed  in  describing  the  fate  of  Egypt,  and  in  the  Psalms 
of  Solomon,  of  Pompey  ;  out  In  both  cases  the  ancient  myth  is 
clearly  in  mind. 

2  In  Ps  10V1  the  plural  of  this,  r'hdbim,  appears  to  mean 
'  false  gods ' ;  and  tohQ,  is  used  in  the  same  sense  in  1  S  1221  and 
Is  41». 

8  Folk-lore  frequently  exhibits  this  phenomenon.  So,  for 
instance,  In  the  WendiBh  Spreewald  one  finds  old  fairy  tales, 
identical  with  those  collected  by  Grimm,  told  about  Frederick 
the  Great,  Ziethen,  and  others  of  the  same  period. 


■  Uh 


154 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Hebrew) 


by  the  name  means  (cf.  the  late  Isaiauic  Apoca- 
lypse, la  24-27).  Here,  however,  we  have  127') 
three  monster* :  Leviathan  Uie  swift  serpen t  or 
flying  serpent  (which  apjiears  to  be  alludt-d  la  in 
Job  3',  inhabiting  the  waters  above  the  firmament 
and  causing  the  eclipse) ;  Leviathan  the  crooked 
serpent,  which  is  the  sea  encircling  the  earth  ;  and 
the  dragon  in  the  depths  of  the  sea,  which  is  the 
serpent  of  Am  y*. 

Tr\  a  somewhat  similar  picture  of  the  reduction 
ot  <-he  earth  to  chaos  through  the  wrath  of  God, 
in  Jer  i"*-,  birds,  men,  and  beasts  are  destroyed  ; 
mountains  and  hills  lose  their  solidity  and  shake 
to  and  fro  ;  the  light  of  the  heavens  is  turned  into 
darkness  ;  and  the  earth  becomes  waste  and  void 
— tohii  and  bo,\u — the  technical  words  for  '  chaos ' 
used  in  Gn  l\ 

Out  of  these  various  references  we  may  recon- 
struct the  general  eosmogooie  conception  of  the 
Hebrews  -.  first,  a  condition  of  chaos  and  darkness, 
a  waste  of  waters,  inhabited  by  monstrous  and 
noxious  forms ;  then  a  battle  of  Jahweh,  with  the 
approval  and  rejoicing  of  the  gods  (divine  or  semi- 
divine  beings*  stare,  etc.),  against  the  deep  and 
the  monsters  of  chaos,  in  which  in  some  way  He 
uses  the  wind.  By  means  of  this  He  spreads  ont 
a  firmament  above,  resting  upon  pillars,  provided 
with  windows,'  through  which  the  waters  above 
may  be  kit  down  upon  the  earth.  Beneath,  upon 
the  great  void,  He  spreads  the  earth,  a  dwelling- 
place  for  living  things,  under  which  is  the  sea  or 
abyss  (rV;.';  «).*  In  this  abyss,  as  also  in  the  heights 
above,  still  dwell  great  monsters,  whom  the  Lord 
has  preserved  there,  whom  no  other  than  He  can 
control,  and  who  are  dangerous  and  noxious  to 
men  and  to  the  works  of  men. 

This  was  not  only  the  oosmogonic  thought  of 
the  Hebrews  ;  it  also  constituted  an  element  of 
their  religion,  and  was  represented  in  their  ritual 
and  religious  paraphernalia.  So,  in  the  temple  of 
Solomon  was  a  great  laver,  the  so-called  '  sea,' 
representing  the  t'h6m  ;  *  and  on  the  candlesticks 
of  Herod's  temple,  as  represented  on  Titus'  Arch 
at  Rome,  are  apparently  pictured  the  monsters  of 
that  fh£m  which  Jahweh  had  overcome.4 

This  cosmogony  clearly  is  closely  related  to  that 
of  Babylonia,  where  we  have  the  same  contest 
of  Mirduk  (acting  for  the  other  gods,  whom  he 
thereby  largely  supplants)  with  a  great  female 
monster,  Tianiat*  which  is  by  root  the  same  as 
the  Heb.  fhdm.  This  monster  he  splits  in  two, 
after  inflating  her  with  a  great  wind.  He  reduces 
her  various  allies  to  submission,  and,  after  treat- 
ing her  corpse  with  contumely,  he  divides  it  into 
two  parts,  ont  of  one  of  which  he  makes  the 
heaven,  and  out  of  the  other  the  earth,  the  waters 
being  thus  separated  into  two  great  seas,  the  one 
above  the  firmament  of  heaven  and  the  other 
beneath  the  earth. 

3.  Systematized  cosmogony  of  the  Priestly 
Code. — The  Bab.  cosmogony,  as  we  know  it  in 
the  cuneiform  texts,  is  contained  in  seven  tablets. 
Similarly  the  systematized  cosmogony  of  the  Heb. 
Priestly  Code  (Gn  1-2*),  which  formulates  and 
develops  in  a  scientific  and  exact  manner  the 
popular  belief,  is  divided  into  seven  days. 

This  cosmogony  commences  with  the  description  of  e  con- 
dition where  the  earth  was  loAu  and  fcoAti  (i.s.  chaos) — two 
words  evidently  handed  down  from  antiquity.  This  chaotic 
condition  is  further  described  as  '  darkness  upon  the  face  of 
VkOm.'  T'him,  aa  already  stated,  is  radically  identical  with 
the  Bab.  TxavuU  (here  used  without  the  article),  and  is  evi- 
dently, like  tohit  and  fcoAu,  a  technical  term  of  the  cosmogonic 

»  CL  Gn  7",  z  K  7»- 1»,  Ps  TV, 

1 QD  711  4ax,  rx  j3iji  p,  iV  7gisi  p,  gjo 

■IK  7°,  interpreted  by  comparison  with  Bab.  use. 

*  Cf .  the  similar  use  in  Bab.  temples. 

1  In  the  Bab.  myth  we  have  also  apru,  '  sea,'  aa  a  technical 
term  or  name.  At  least  once  in  Hebrew  (la  *Oi7)  Uw  corre- 
sponding root  D&K  has  to*  same  sense. 


myth.  Following  this  description  of  the  condition  cf  darkness, 
chaos,  and  enormity,  the  narrative  proceeds:  'The  wind  of 
tSod  was  rushing  upon  the  face  ot  the  waters.'1  Here  perhaps 
we  have  a  remnant  of  the  myth  which  represents  alarduk  using 
thtf  wind  as  hii  weapon  against  liamau 

Having  thus  condensed  the  mythical  material,  which  balks 
so  larger)  hi  the  Bab.  story,  and  which  evidently  played  an 
equally  Important  part  in  the  common  Jewish  cosmogony,  and 
having  altogether  eliminated  its  polytheism,  the  Priestly  nar- 
rator then  proceeds  on  a  higher  plane  to  describe  Creation  as  a 
result  of  seven  utterances  of  God.  The  order  of  these  creative 
utterances  may  be  supposed  to  coincide  in  general  with  that  of 
the  Bab.  seven  tablets,  although  this  cannot  be  stated  certainly, 
owing  to  the  fragmentary  condition  of  those  tablets. 

First  came  light  ;  second,  the  firmament  in  the  midst  of  the 
waters,  to  divide  the  waters  beneath  from  the  waters  above ; 
third,  the  separation  of  dry  land  and  the  springing  ol  verdure, 
trees,  and  the  tike  upon  the  earth ;  fourth,  the  creation  of 
sun,  moon,  and  stars,  which  are  set  in  the  heavens,  both  to 
give  light  and  to  rule  the  day  and  the  night — the  latter,  per* 
haps,  containing  a  trace  of  the  DcJjtbetstkc  conception  of  the 
old  astral  worship,  which  it  to  intended  to  correct  by  stasias; 
that  these  rojera  of  day  and  night  are  creations  of  God  ;  fifth, 
the  creatures  of  the  sea  and  the  birds  of  the  air,  both  ot  them 
created  oat  of  water,  among  which  it  hi  noteworthy  that  tee 
writer  recognizee  the)  continued  egattspcs  of  the  great  sea- 
monsters,  dragons,  serpents,  etc,  ot  the  popular  belief  (v.nx  in- 
cluded in  Job,  Enoch,  and  Eedras,  under  the  titles  Behemoth  and 
Leviathan.  The  sixth  day  covers  the  creation  of  the  creatures 
of  the  earth  and  of  man.  In  the  note  of  the  creation  of  man 
(v.Ss)  we  have  s  remnant  of  the  mora  primitive  anthropo- 
morphic conception  of  God,  of  which  the  writer  eordd  sot 
readily  divest  hupsett,  in  the  statement  that  man  was  mads  in 
the  image  of  God ;  and  perhaps  also  an  echo  of  the  earner 
polytheism  in  the  words  put  in  the  month  of  Hnhfm  :  'Lot  its 
make  man  in  our  image.'  Not  that  the  writer  means  to  rpeel 
of  more  than  one  God  of  Israel,  but  he  cannot  vet  altogether 
divest  himself  of  the  thought  of  a  plurality  of  gods  in  human 
shape.  The  resting  of  God  on  the  seventh  day,  and  the  estab- 
lishment in  connexion  with  that  of  an  eternal  Sabbath,  are 
peculiarly  Hebrew ;  for,  although  a  rudimentary  Sabbath  ex- 
isted among  the  Babylonians,  it  played  no  important  part  in 
Bab.  religion  or  mythology.  The  seventh  tablet  of  the  Baby- 
lonian Creation-series,  with  which  in  Hebrew  corresponds  the 
establishment  of  the  Rahhath  as  a  part  of  Creation  itself, 
contains  a  hymn  of  praise  to  Marduk  as  the  creator. 

The  question  arises.  To  what  extent  was  this 
cosmogony  based  on  Bab.  ideas  t  We  have  already 
seen  that,  in  general,  it  is  a  statement,  in  precise, 
scientific,  monotheistic,  and  tin  mythological  form, 
of  cosmogonic  views  prevailing  among  the  people 
of  Israel  from  an  early  period.  Certain  resemb- 
lances have  also  been  pointed  ont  between  those 
cosmogonic  myths  and  the  cosmogonic  myths  ol 
the  Babylonians.  It  would  seem  that  at  soma 
early  period  Bab.  cosmogony  became  known  ts 
the  people  of  Palestine.  The  general  view  at  pre- 
sent is  that,  in  some  form,  locally  modified,  the 
Bab.  cosmogony  became  the  common  property  of 
Palestine  and  surrounding  regions  during  the 
centuries  of  predominating  Bab.  influence  in  the 
West  (c.  2000  B.C.),  and  that  the  Hebrews  adopted 
that  cosmogony,  in  whole  or  in  part,  gradually 
modifying  it  to  fit  into  their  religion,1  eliminating 
the  polytheistic  and  grosser  traits,  and  spiritual- 
izing and  rationalizing  the  residue.  The  cosmo- 
gonic myth,  accordingly,  pursued  the  same  coarse 

1  Commonly  rendered  '  the  spirit  of  God  was  brooding,'  etc 
This  rendering  of  the  Heb.  nprnc  is  suggested  by  a  supposed 
connexion  with  an  Aram.  root.  In  Hebrew  it  occurs  elsewhere 
only  in  Lit  J2U,  in  a  description  of  the  vulture  teaching  its 
young  to  fly,  where  it  has  been  translated  *  hovering.'  This  is 
manifestly  incorrect  (but  see  Skinner  on  On  l2).  The  parent 
birds  do  not  hover  over  the  young  when  turning  them  out  of 
the  nest  to  fly  for  themselves,  but  make  rushes  at  them,  and 
away  from  them.  The  LXX  has  preserved  the  correct  tr.  of 
the  word  nsrno  of  Gn  l2,  vis.  m^Mpm,  '  was  rushing  upon.' 
This  agrees  with  other  references  in  Hen.  literature  to  the  nee 
by  God  of  wind  in  creation  (see  above),  and  also  agrees  with 
the  Bab.  myth. 

3  Unfortunately  we  lack,  up  to  the  present  time,  a  sufficient 
knowledge  of  Phoenician  cosmogony  and  the  cosmogony  of 
other  neighbouring  peoples  to  prove  or  disprove  this  theory. 
True,  certain  fragments  of  Phcen-  cosmogony  have  come  down 
to  us,  claimed  to  be  the  relics  of  the  writings  of  a  certain 
fianchuniathen  ;  but,  in  the  hrst  place,  it  is  very  doubtful 
whether  such  a  man  ever  existed,  and,  in  the  second  place, 
what  has  been  banded  down  has  reached  us  in  such  a  form  that 
ft  is  almost  impossible  to  determine  its  origins  and  connexions. 
We  do  find,  however,  in  Phcen.  cosmogony,  a  creature,  Taulht, 
which  is  the  same  as  Tiamdt  and  the  Heb.  t*h6m,  and  a  Ban, 
which  appears  to  be  the  Hebrew  fconii  ;  to  that  extent  Phmn 
remains  may  be  said  to  support  this  hypothnsis 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Indiaii) 


155 


as  almost  everything  else  in  Hebrew  ritual  and 
religion.  The  cosmogony  in  Gn  1  represents  the 
final  stage  of  its  development,  when  the  effort  was 
made  to  rid  it  altogether  of  its  grosser  and  poly- 
theistic elements,  to  spiritualize  it,  and  to  fit  it 
into  the  new  scheme  of  the  purified  and  reformed 
religion  of  Israel,  which  the  priestly  schools  of  the 
Captivity  sought  to  establish.  The  final  author 
may  possibly  have  been  affected  directly  by  Bab. 
models  to  the  extent  that  he  adopted  from  the 
seven  tablets  his  arrangement  by  seven  days  ;  but 
even  this  seems  improbable,  for  the  seven -day 
system  was  already  in  existence  in  Israel,  and 
constituted  an  integral  part  of  its  religion.  The 
Bab.  seven  tablets  of  Creation  were  ancient. 
Their  '  sevenness '  is  an  element  which  would 
naturally  have  impressed  any  people,  but  especi- 
ally one  regarding  the  number  seven  as  holy  ;  and, 
while  there  is  no  other  evidence  in  the  Biblical 
passages,  indicating  acquaintance  with  the  cosmo- 
gonic  myth,  of  knowledge  of  this  '  sevenness,'  it 
nevertheless  seems  more  probable  that  it  formed 
part  of  the  popular  scheme  of  cosmogony,1  even 
though  the  events  of  the  days  of  Creation  may 
not  coincide  altogether  with  the  order  of  events  in 
the  Bab.  tablets,  than  that  it  was  borrowed  by 
the  Priestly  Code  from  the  Babylonians.  The 
author  of  the  Priestly  Code  cosmogony  was  con- 
cerned rather  with  those  things  which  differentiate 
the  Heb.  from  the  Bab.  versions  of  the  cosmogony. 
And,  indeed,  the  difference  between  the  two  is  far 
more  striking  than  the  resemblance.  It  is  wonder- 
ful how  out  of  the  fantastical,  puerile,  and  gross 
fancies  of  the  Bab.  original  there  has  been  de- 
veloped so  sane,  so  lofty,  and  so  spiritual  a  system 
of  cosmogony  as  that  contained  in  Gn  1-2*. 

4.  Cosmogony  of  J  compared  with  popular 
cosmogony  and  cosmogony  of  P.— How  does  it 
happen  that  two  cosmogonies  so  radically  different 
in  conception  continued  to  exist  side  by  side  ?  As 
already  pointed  out,  ch.  2  deals,  not  with  the 
creation  of  the  world,  but  with  the  problems  of 
man.  It  finds  him  on  the  barren  hills  of  Judtea. 
It  does  not  concern  itself  with  their  creation,  but 
with  the  manner  in  which  they  are  made  habit- 
able, and  the  problems  of  the  men  who  inhabited 
them,  who  had  been  driven  out,  for  their  sins, 
from  the  beautiful  Garden  of  God  in  the  fertile  far 
east,  to  live  on,  and  to  till,  this  land  of  thorns 
and  thistles.  Had  the  narrator  been  asked  how 
the  dry  land,  the  heavens,  etc.,  came  into  exist- 
ence, he  would  doubtless,  incompatible  as  the  two 
things  seem  to  as,  have  told  of  a  contest  of  Jahweh 
with  chaos  and  the  monsters  of  the  deep,  and  the 
formation  of  an  earth  resting  on  the  great  deep, 
with  the  solid  firmament  of  heaven  above,  and  the 
waters  still  above  that — substantially  the  scheme 
described  in  Gn  1,  though  not  in  the  same  sys- 
tematized and  highly  developed  form.  Theo- 
retically he  believed  in  a  deep  beneath  the  earth, 
as  is  shown  in  the  fountain  from  which  a  stream 
came  out  and  watered  the  Garden  of  God,  being 
the  source  of  all  the  rivers  of  the  world.  But 
practically  this  deep  was  negligible  in  Judaea, 
where  one  must  look  to  Jahweh  for  water  from 
heaven  ;  and  so  even  in  the  Flood-story  of  J  the 
water  comes  down  only  from  above. 

5.  The  highest  and  final  Hebrew  thought  con- 
cerning Creation. — The  cosmogony  of  Gn  1-24, 
lofty  as  it  is  in  its  monotheistic  conception  of 
the  power  of  God,  did  not  reach  the  highest  limits 
of  Hebrew  thought.  Hampered  by  the  old  myths, 
it  stood  perilously  near  dualism  in  reckoning  chaos, 
darkness,  and  the  deep  as  existing,  independently 

1  Of.,  for  instance,  the  form  of  the  Fourth  Commandment  in 
Ex  SO,  wnich,  however  far  removed  from  the  form  of  the 
original   '  Word,'  is  at  leaat  much  earlier  than  the  Priestly 


of  God,  from  eternity.  There  were  men  of  the 
same  period,  but  of  a  different  school  of  thought, 
with  prophetic  vision,  and  a  higher,  less  hampered 
spirituality,  who  had  perceived  and  were  teaching 
a  still  higher  thought,  namely,  that  God  was  the 
Creator  of  darkness  as  well  as  of  light,  of  chaos 
as  well  as  of  order,  of  evil  as  well  as  of  good. 
Deutero-Isaiah  was  familiar,  as  we  have  seen, 
with  the  popular  cosmogonic  n-.yths,  and  ap- 
parently also  with  the  more  formal  cosmogony 
ultimately  formulated  in  Gn  1-2* ;  but  its  funda- 
mental conception  of  the  opposition  of  chaos, 
darkness,  and  the  deep  to  God  he  utterly  rejects. 
'  I  am  Jahweh,  and  there  is  none  else,  forming 
light  and  creating  darkness,  making  prosperity 
and  creating  evil '  (Is  456').  This  is  the  highest 
expression  of  the  creative  thought  in  the  Old 
Testament.  In  Pr  823'31  Creation  is  an  expression 
of  the  wisdom  of  God,  which  is  almost  hyposta- 
tized.  In  some  of  the  late  Psalms  we  have  very 
beautiful  and  spiritual  conceptions  of  Creation, 
especially  in  Ps  104,'  but  in  principle  these  are 
only  poetic  liberties  with  the  cosmogony  of  Gn  1. 
More  and  more  this  cosmogony  became  an  essen- 
tial part  of  the  religion  of  the  Jews,  on  which 
Judaism  and  Christianity,  almost  up  to  the  pre- 
sent time,  have  founded  literally  their  conception 
of  the  creation  of  the  world.  Along  with  this 
also  some  of  the  old  mythological  conceptions  con- 
tinued to  linger  on.3  Indeed,  there  is  nothing  in 
Gn  1  to  forbid  them,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
writer  of  v.M  evidently  himself  believed  in  the 
existence  of  the  mythical  monsters  of  the  deep. 
What  part  these  played  in  later  Judaism  one  may 
see  from  the  Book  of  Esdras  and  from  Enoch, 
which  have  already  been  quoted,  and  finally  even 
from  the  Apocalypse  in  the  New  Testament,  many 
of  the  images  and  concepts  in  v/hich,  particularly 
in  chs.  12,  13,  17,  21,  reflect  the  ancient  mythology 
of  the  battle  of  the  representative  of  the  gods 
with  the  dragons  and  monsters  of  chaos  and  the 
deep. 

Litkraturb. — The  OT  commentaries,  especially  those  of 
Delitzsch  (Eng.  tr.,  Edinburgh,  1888-89),  Dillmann,  (Eng.  tr., 
Edinburgh,  1897),  Holzinger  (Freiburg,  1S03),  Gunkel3  (Gdt- 
tingen,  1902),  Driver'  (London,  19U9),  Ayles  (New  York, 
1904),  and  Skinner  (Edinburgh,  1910),  on  Genesis ;  A.  B. 
Davidson  (London,  1862),  Dillmann*  (Leipzig,  1891),  Budde 
(Gottingen,  1896),  and  Duhm  (Freiburg,  1897),  on  Job ; 
CheyneS  (London,  18S6),  DiUmann-Kittel  (Leipzig,  1898), 
Marti  (Tubingen,  1900),  and  Duhm  2  (Gottingen,  1902),  on 
Isaiah ;  Bertholet  (Freiburg,  1897)  and  Kraetzschmar  (Got- 
tingen, 1900),  on  Etekiel.  Cf.  also  artt.  'Cosmogony,'  '  Rahab,' 
'  Sea-monster/  in  BDB ;  '  Behemoth  and  Leviathan  '  and 
'  Dragon,'  in  EBi ;  H.  Gnnkel,  Schiypfunn  u.  Chaos,  Gott.  1895, 
esp.  pp.  29-90;  F.  Weber,  Jiid.  Theol.i,  Leipz.  1897,  pp.  160, 
202,  402,  404  :  K.  Budde,  Bibl.  UrgescMchte,  GiesBen,  1883  ; 
W.  Baudissin,  Stud.  z.  sem.  Religionsgesch.,  Leipz.  1876-78  ; 
H.  Gressmann,  Altorient.  Text*  u.  Buder  z.  AT,  Tub.  1909; 
M.  J.  Lagrange,  Etudes  sur  lesrel.  8<*m.3,  Paris,  1906  ;  J.  P. 
Peters,  Early  Heb.  Story,  London,  1904. 

John  P.  Petebs. 
COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Indian). 
— Cosmological  speculations  were,  in  India  as  else- 
where, the  first  manifestation  of  philosophical 
thought ;  they  are  already  met  with  in  the  Rig- 
veda,  in  single  verses  as  well  as  in  entire  hymns. 
The  basis  of  these  speculations,  in  the  Vedic  period, 
was  not  a  generally  adopted  theory  or  mythological 
conception  as  to  the  origin  of  the  world  ;  widely 
differing  ideas  about  this  problem  seem  to  have 
been  current,  which  themore  philoaophicallyminded 
poets  developed  and  combined.  There  is  a  kind  of 
progress  from  crude  and  unconnected  notions  to 
more  refined  ideas  and  broader  views ;  but  this 
development  did  not  lead  to  a  well-established 
cosmogony  such  as  we  find  in  the  first  chapter  of 
Genesis.  A  similar  variety  of  opinion  prevailed 
also  in  the  period  of  the  Brahmanas  and  Upani 
sads,  though  there  is  an  apparent  tendency  towards 
closer  agreement.  Uniformity,  however,  was  never 
1  Cf.  also  Ps  3381-.  •  Ps  1487. 


wBaStimi  y'"^'  I? 


166 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Indian) 


achieved,  even  in  the  Purfinas  ;  for  all  statements, 
however  contradictory,  contained  in  the  revealed 
literature  were  regarded  as  truth,  and  might  be 
reproduced  by  later  writers.  Cosmography,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  another  fate.  Different  writers 
of  the  same  period  are  "iueh  more  nearly  at  one 
regarding  the  plan  and  structure  of  the  Universe,  at 
least  in  its  main  outlines,  than  regarding  its  origin 
and  development  j  but  it  goes  without  saying  that 
both  sets  of  ideas — cosmogonio  as  well  as  cosmo- 
graphic — are  equally  fanciful,  and  lack  the  basis 
of  well-ascertained  facts. 

I.  Vedic  period.— The  world,  according  to  Vedic 
notions,  consists  of  three  parts — earth,  air,  and  sky, 
or  heaven.  But,  when  the  idea  of '  Universe'  is  to 
be  expressed,  the  phrase  most  commonly  used  is 
'  heaven  and  earth.  Both  Heaven  and  Earth  are 
regarded  as  gods  and  as  the  parents  of  gods  (deva- 
putra),  even  although  they  are  said  to  have  been 
generated  by  gods.  Sometimes  one  god, — Indra, 
or  Agni,  or  Budra,  or  Soma, — sometimes  all  the 
gods  together,  are  said  to  have  generated  or  created 
heaven  and  earth,  the  whole  world ;  and  the  act  of 
creating  is  metaphorically  expressed  as  building, 
sacrificing,  or  weaving.  That  heaven  and  earth 
should  be  parents  of  the  gods,  and  at  the  same 
time  have  been  generated  by  them,  is  a  downright 
self-contradiction ;  but  it  seems  to  have  only  en- 
hanced the  mystery  of  this  conception  without 
lessening  its  value,  since  it  recurs  even  in  advanced 
speculation.  It  is  avoided  in  the  declaration  that 
mother  Aditi  is  everything,  and  brings  forth  every- 
thing by  and  from  herself,  though  in  another  place 
it  is  said  that  Aditi  brought  forth  Daksa,  and 
Daksa  generated  Aditi.  Here  Aditi  is  apparently 
a  mythological  expression  for  the  female  principle 
in  creation,  and  Daksa  for  the  male  principle  or 
creative  force.  The  latter  is  more  directly  called 
Purusa,  man  or  male  spirit,  and  is  conceived  as  the 
primeval  male  who  is  transformed,  or  who  trans- 
forms himself,  into  the  world.  To  him  is  dedicated 
the  famous  Purusasukta,  Rigveda,  x.  90,  which 
recurs,  with  variations,  in  the  Atharvaveda  (xix. 
6),  the  Vajasaneyi  Samhita  (xxxi.),  and  the  Taitti- 
rlya  Aranyaka  (lii.  12),  and  greatly  influenced  later 
theosophical  speculation.  As  a  specimen  of  Vedic 
cosmogony  we  subjoin  Muir's  translation  of  it 
(from  Orig.  Skr.  Texts,  v.  368  ff.),  though  it, 
or  rather  the  original,  contains  many  obscure 
points : 

'  Purusa  has  a  thousand  heads,  a  thousand  eyes,  and  a  thou- 
sand feet.  On  every  side  enveloping  the  earth,  he  transcended 
[it]  by  a  space  of  ten  fingers  (1).  Purusa  himself  is  this  whole 
[universe],  whatever  has  been,  and  whatever  shall  be.  He  is 
also  the  lord  of  immortality,  since  through  food  he  expands  (2). 
Such  is  his  greatness;  and  Purusa  is  superior  to  this.  And 
existing  things  are  a  quarter  (or  foot)  of  him,  and  that  which  is 
immortal  in  the  sky  is  three-quarters  of  him  (3X  With  three- 
quarters  Purusa  mounted  upwards.  A  quarter  of  bim  again  was 
produced  here  below.  He  then  became  diffused  everywhere 
among  things  animate  and  inanimate  (4).  From  him  Viraj  was 
born,  and  from  Viraj,  Purusa.  As  soon  as  he  was  born,  he 
extended  beyond  the  earth,  both  behind  and  before  (6).  When 
the  gods  offered  up  Purusa  as  a  sacrifice,  the  spring  was  its 
clarified  butter,  summer  its  fuel,  and  autumn  the  [accompany, 
ing]  oblation  (8).  This  victim,  Purusa  bom  in  the  beginning, 
they  immolated  on  the  sacrificial  grass;  with  him  as  their 
offering,  the  gods,  Sadhyas,  and  Risis  sacrificed  (7).  From  that 
universal  oblation  were  produced  curds  and  clarified  butter. 
He  (Purusa)  formed  those  aerial  creatures,  and  the  animals, 
both  wild  and  tame  (8).  From  that  universal  sacrifice  sprang 
the  hymns  called  Rich  and  Saman,  the  metres,  and  the  Yajus  (9). 
From  it  were  produced  horses,  and  all  animals  with  two  rows  of 
teeth,  cows,  goats,  and  sheep  (10).  When  they  divided  Purusa, 
into  how  many  parts  did  they  distribute  him?  What  was  his 
mouth!  What  were  his  arms?  What  were  called  his  thighs 
and  feet?  (11).  The  Brahmana  was  his  mouth;  the  Rajanya 
became  his  arms ;  the  Vaisya  his  thighs ;  the  Sudra  sprang  from 
his  feet  (12).  The  moon  was  produced  from  his  soul ;  the  sun 
from  his  eye  ;  Indra  and  Agni  from  his  mouth  ;  and  Vayu  from 
hiB  breath  (13).  From  his  navel  came  the  atmosphere  ;  from  his 
head  arose  the  sky  ;  from  his  feet  came  the  earth  ;  from  his  ear 
the  four  quarters ;  so  they  formed  the  worlds  (14).  When  the 
gods,  in  performing  their  sacrifice,  bound  Purusa  as  a  victim, 
there  were  seven  pieceB  of  wood  laid  for  him  round  the  fire,  and 
thrice  seven  pieces  of  fuel  employed  (15).    With  sacrifice  the 


gods  worshipped  the  sacrifice.  These  were  the  first  institutions. 
These  great  beings  attained  to  the  heaven  where  the  gods,  tbt 
ancient  Sadhyas,  reside  (16).' 

The  unity  of  the  Godhead  as  the  cause  of  the 
world,  which  is  recognized  in  the  above  hymn,  is 
directly  expressed  in  others  where  he  is  called  the 
One,  the  Unborn,  and  placed  above  all  gods.  In 
two  hymns  (Rigveda,  x.  81, 82)  he  is  invoked  under 
the  name  Visvakarman,  'All-creator,'  who  in  later 
mythology  became  the  architect  of  the  gods ;  in 
another  remarkable  hymn  (x.  121)  the  poet  inquires 
who  is  the  first-born  god  that  created  the  world  and 
upholds  it,  and  in  the  last  verse  he  invokes  him  as 
Prajapati,  '  Lord  of  the  creatures.'  Prajapati  later 
became  the  current  designation  of  the  creator,  and 
synonymous  with  Brahma.  In  connexion  with 
Visvakarman  and  Prajapati  occurs  what  seems  to 
be  an  ancient  mythological  conception  :  the  highest 
god  is  said  to  have  originated  in  the  primeval  waters 
as  the  Golden  Germ  (Hiranyagarbha)  which  con- 
tained all  the  gods  and  the  world,  or  became  the 
creator.  This  idea  was  afterwards  developed  to 
that  of  the  world-egg,  and  of  Hiranyagarbha  = 
Brahma. 

An  entirely  different  treatment  of  the  cosmo- 
logical  problem  is  contained  in  the  philosophical 
hymn,  Rigveda,  x.  129  (of.  Taittiriya  Brahmana, 
ii.  8,  9,  3-6),  which,  for  depth  of  speculation,  is 
one  of  the  most  admirable  poems  of  the  Rigveda. 
Notwithstanding  the  labour  of  many  ingenions 
interpreters,  the  meaning  of  some  passages  still 
remains  doubtful ;  yet  a  general  idea  of  its  eon- 
tents  may  be  got  from  the  subjoined  metrical 
translation  of  Muir  (op.  eit.  v.  356,  note  530) : 

'Then  there  was  neither  Aught  nor  Nought,  no  air  nor  sky, 
beyond. 

What  covered  all?    Where  rested  all?     In  watery  gulf  pro- 
found f 

Nor  death  was  then,  nor  deathlessness,  nor  change  of  night 
and  day. 

That  One  breathed  calmly,  self-sustained ;  nought  else  beyond 
It  lay. 

Gloom  hid  in  gloom  existed  first — one  sea,  eluding  view. 

That  One,  a  void  in  chaos  wrapt,  by  inward  fervour grew. 

Within  It  first  arose  desire,  the  primal  germ  of  mi no. 

Which  Nothing  with  Existence  links,  as  sages  searching  find. 

The  kindling  ray  that  shot  across  the  dark  and  drear  abyn, — 

Was  it  bencith?  or  high  aloft?    What  bard  can  answer  this? 

There  fecundating  powers  were  found,  and  mighty  forces 
strove, — 

A  self-supporting  mass  beneath,  and  energy  above. 

Who  knows,  who  ever  told,  from  whence  this  vast  creation 
rose? 

No  gods  had  then  been  born, — who  then  can  e'ar  the  truth 
disclose  ? 

Whence  sprang  this  world,  and  whether  framed  by  hand 
divine  or  no, — 

lbs  lord  in  heaven  alone  can  tell,  if  even  he  can  show.' 
In  the  Atharvaveda  we  meet  with  some  cosmo- 
logical  hymns,  chiefly  of  the  Prajapati  type,  in 
which  the  highest  god  and  creator  is  conceived 
under  other  forms,  and  invoked  under  various 
names,  such  as  Rohita  (the  red  one),  Anadvan 
(the  ox),  Vasa  (the  cow),  Kala  (time),  Kama 
(desire),  etc. 

LrrKRATURE.—  J.  Muir,  Orig.  Sanskrit  Texts,  London,  1858-72, 
iv.  ch.  1,  v.  sect.  xxi.  ;  L.  Scherman,  PhUos.  Hyinnen  aut  der 
Rig- und  Atharva-veda-Sanhitd,  Strassburg,1837;  P.  Deussen, 
Attgem.  Gesch.  .der  Phiiosophie,  i.a  1  (Leipzig,  1906);  K.  F. 
Geldner,  'Zur  Kosmogonie  des  Rigveda'  ( Univcnitatsschrift 
zut  feierlichen  Einfilhrung  de*  Rtktors,  Marburg,  1908). 

2.  Period  of  the  Brahmanas  and  the  Upanisads. 
— The  Brahmanas  contain  many  legends  about 
PrajSpati's  creating  of  the  world.  They  usually 
open  with  some  statement  like  the  following  :  '  In 
the  beginning  was  Prajapati,  nothing  but  Praja- 
pati; he  desired,  "May  I  become  many";  he 
performed  austerities,  and  thereby  created  these 
worlds'  (either  the  living  beings,  or  heaven,  air, 
and  earth).  Besides  Prajapati,  other  names  of 
the  creator  are  met  with  :  Svayarhbhii  Nfirayana, 
Svayarhbhu  Brahman,  and  even  Non-Being.  The 
authors  of  the  Brahmanas,  being  wholly  engrossed 
with  liturgy  and  ceremonial,  introduce  these 
legends  in  order  to  explain  some  detail  of  ritual 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Indian) 


167 


or  the  like ;  and  therefore,  after  a  few  general 
remarks  on  the  creation  of  the  world,  they  plunge 
again  into  ritualistic  discussions  (see  the  specimens 
given  by  Deussen,  op.  cit.  p.  183  ff.).  But  the  little 
information  they  give  is  sufficient  to  show  what 
were  in  their  time  the  popular  opinions  about  the 
origin  of  the  world.  Besides  the  statement  that 
Prajapati  was  at  the  beginning  of  things,  there 
are  others,  according  to  which  the  waters  seem  to 
have  been  believed  to  be  coeval  with  him  or  to  have 
preceded  him.  Thus  it  is  said  (Taittiriya  Saihhitd, 
v.  6,  4,  2,  and  similarly  vii.  1,  6,  1)  that  in  the 
beginning  there  was  nothing  but  the  waters,  and 
Prajapati,  as  wind,  went  over  them  or  floated  on  a 
lotus  leaf.  Connected  with  this  order  of  ideas  is 
the  now  more  fully  developed  conception  of  the 
world-egg  in  Satapatha  Brdhmana,  xi.  1,  6,  1  ff., 
which  runs  thus  in  Muir's  translation  (iv.  26) : 

•  In  the  beginning  this  universe  was  water,  nothing  but  water. 
Ibe  waters  desired,  "How  can  we  be  reproduced  T  "  So  saving, 
they  toiled,  they  performed  austerity.  Whiie  they  were  per- 
forming austerity,  a  golden  egg  came  into  existence.  Being 
S  reduced,  it  then  became  a  year.  Wherefore  this  golden  egg 
oated  about  for  the  period  of  a  year.  From  It  in  a  year  a  male 
(puruya)  came  into  existence,  who  was  PrajftpatL  .  .  .  He 
divided  this  golden  egg.  ...  In  a  year  he  desired  to  speak. 
He  uttered  "bhur"  which  became  this  earth;  "bhuvah" 
which  became  this  firmament ;  and  "spar,"  which  became  that 
sky.  ...  He  was  born  with  n  life  of  a  thousand  years.  He 
perceived  the  further  end  of  his  life  as  one  may  perceive  the 
opposite  bank  of  a  river.  Desiring  offspring,  he  went  ou  wor- 
shipping and  toiling.  He  conceived  progeny  in  himself  ;  with 
his  mouth  he  created  the  goda,'  etc. 

We  append,  for  the  sake  of  comparison,  another  ancient 
account  of  the  world-egg  from  the  Chhindogya  Upani^ad,  tit. 
10  (5232?  L  54 1):  'In  the  beginning  this  was  non-existent.  It 
became  existent,  it  grew.  It  turned  into  an  egg.  The  egg  lay 
for  the  time  of  a  year.  The  egg  broke  open.  The  two  halves 
were  one  of  stiver,  the  other  of  gold.  The  silver  one  became 
this  earth,  the  golden  one  the  sky,  the  thick  membrane  (of  the 
white)  the  mountains,  the  thin  membrane  (of  the  yolk)  the  mist 
with  the  clouds,  the  small  veins  the  rivers,  the  fluid  the  sea. 
And  what  was  born  from  it  was  Aditya,  the  sun,'  etc. 

While  the  authors  of  the  Brahmanas  treated 
oosmogonic  myths  from  their  liturgical  point  of 
view,  the  authors  of  the  Upanisads  used  them  in 
order  to  illustrate  their  great  philosophical  tenet 
of  the  transcendent  oneness  of  Brahman  and  its 
presence  in  all  created  things.  Accordingly,  they 
frequently  substitute  for  Praj&pati  philosophical 
abstractions,  e.g.  Brahman,  Atman,  Not-Being, 
or  Being,  and  derive  from  this  first  principle  the 
worlds,  or  the  Vedas,  or  those  cosmical  and  psy- 
chical agencies  which  chiefly  engross  their  specu- 
lations. They  develop  and  combine  these  notions 
in  ever-varying  ways ;  but  it  is  to  be  understood, 
or  it  is  expressly  Btated,  that  the  first  principle, 
after  having  created  things,  entered  them,  so  that 
It  is  present  in  them,  and,  in  a  way,  is  identical 
with,  and  yet  different  from,  them.  It  is  impossible 
to  reduce  the  variety  of  opinion  on  the  origin  of 
the  world,  contained  in  the  Upanisads,  to  one 
general  idea  underlying  them  ;  we  shall,  therefore, 
Illustrate  them  by  some  selected  specimens. 

In  Brhad  Aranyaka,  i.  4,  the  creation  is  ascribed 
to  Atman  in  the  shape  of  a  man  (purusa) ;  as  there 
was  nothing  but  himself,  he  felt  no  delight,  and 
therefore  'made  this  his  Self  to  fall  In  two,  and 
thence  arose  husband  and  wife.'  He  embraced 
her,  and  men  were  born.  In  the  same  way  ho 
created  all  beings  that  exist  in  pairs.  Then  lie 
created  other  things,  developed  them  by  name  and 
farm,  and  'entered  thither,  to  the  very  tips  of  tho 
finger-nails,  as  a  razor  might  be  fitted  in  a  razor- 
case,  or  as  fire  in  a  fire-place'  (SHE  xv.  R7).  The 
account  of  the  world-egg  in  the  ChlUlndnyya  Una- 
nisad  has  already  been  qnoted  above.  Of  a  Inns 
mythological  and  more  speculative  character  in  a 
passage  in  Taittiriya  Vjianisad,  II.  1,  according  to 
which  from  this  Self  (Brahman)  sprang  space,  from 
space  wind,  from  wind  fire,  from  lire  water,  from 
water  earth,  from  earth  food,  from  food  noed,  men, 
and  all  creatures.    An  older  account  in  Ohhdndugya 


Upanisad,  vi.  2,  2f.,  mentions  only  three  elements ; 
it  runBthus  (SBF.  i.  93  ff.) : 

(Uddalaka  speaks  to  sVetaketu)  :  '  In  the  beginning,  my  dear, 
there  was  that  only  which  is  (re  or),  one  only,  without  a  second. 
Others  say,  in  the  beginning  there  was  that  only  which  is  not 
(ro  /x'J  °r)>  one  only,  without  a  second  ;  and  from  that  which  is 
not,  that  which  is  was  horn. '  '  But  how  could  it  be  thus,  my 
dear?'  the  father  continued.  'How  could  that  which  is,  be 
born  of  that  which  is  not?  No,  my  dear,  only  that  which  Is, 
was  in  the  beginning,  one  only,  without  a  second.  It  thought, 
"  May  I  be  many,  may  I  grow  forth."  It  sent  forth  fire.  That 
fire  thought.  "May  I  be  many,  may  I  grow  forth."  It  sent  forth 
water.  And  therefore  whenever  anybody  anywhere  is  hot  and 
perspires,  water  is  produced  on  him  from  fire  alone.  Water 
thought,  "  May  I  be  many,  may  I  grow  forth. "  It  sent  forth  earth 
(food).  Therefore  whenever  it  rains  anywhere,  most  food  Is 
then  produced.  From  water  atone  Is  eatable  food  produced. 
.  .  .  That  Being  (i.e.  that  which  had  produced  Are,  water,  and 
earth)  thought,  Let  me  now  enter  those  three  beings  (Are,  water, 
earth)  with  ttus  living  Self  (jiva  dtma),  and  let  me  then  reveal 
(develop)  names  and  forms."  Then  that  Being,  having  said,  "Let 
me  make  each  of  these  three  tripartite"  (so  that  Are,  water,  and 
earth  should  each  have  itself  for  its  principal  ingredient,  besides 
an  admixture  of  the  other  two),  entered  Into  those  three  beings 
with  this  living  self  only,  and  revealed  names  and  forms.'  etc 

Here  we  have  the  first  forerunner  of  Sankhya 
ideas,  which  are  more  fully  developed  in  the  Svet- 
divatara  and  some  later  Upanisads  which  form  the 
connecting  link  between  this  period  and  that  of 
the  Epics  and  Puranas.  The  genesis  of  the  evolu- 
tionary theory  of  Sankhya  can  be  traced  to  these 
Upanisads  (see  Deussen,  op.  cit.  i.  2,  p.  216) ;  but 
we  pass  this  subject  over  here,  as  it  will  be  treated 
in  §3. 

The  notions  as  to  the  structure  of  the  Universe 
entertained  by  the  Vedic  poets  continued  to  prevail 
in  the  period  of  the  Brahmanas  and  Upanisads, 
where  frequently  the  Universe  is  spoken  of  as  tri- 
partite :  earth,  air,  and  sky,  symbolized  in  the  three 
'  great  utterances '  (vydhrtis),  '  bhur,'  '  bhuvah,' 
'svar.'  In  Aitareya  Aranyaka,  ii.  4,  1,  however, 
it  is  said  that  in  the  beginning  the  Self  sent  forth 
the  worlds  of  Ambhas,  Marichi,  Mara,  and  Ap. 
'  That  Ambhas  (water)  is  above  the  heaven,  and  it 
is  heaven,  the  support.  The  MarichiB  (the  lights) 
are  the  sky.  The  Mara  (mortal)  is  the  earth, 
and  the  waters  under  the  earth  are  the  Ap  world.' 
Nine  or  ten  worlds  are  enumerated  in  Brhad Aran- 
yaka Upanisad,  iii.  6,  viz.  the  worlds  of  wind,  air, 
Gandharvas,  sun,  moon,  stars,  gods,  Indra,  Praja- 
pati, and  Brahman ; '  each  of  these  worlds  is  woven 
into  the  next  higher  one,  '  like  warp  and  woof.' 
More  importance  is  attached  to  a  sevenfold  divi- 
sion of  the  world.  This  was  introduced  by  the 
augmentation  of  the  vydhftis  from  three,  the 
usual  number,  to  seven,  which  number  first  occurs 
in  Taittiriya  Aranyaka,  x.  27  f.  There  we  find 
the  following  vydhrtis  t  '  bhUr,'  'bhuvah,'  'tvar,' 
'mahar,'  'janas,'  'tapas,'  and  'satyam.'  Now, 
as  the  three  first,  the  original  vydhrtis  ('bhUr,' 
'bhuvah,'  'svar'),  symbolically  denoted  the  three 
worlds  (earth,  air,  sky),  so  the  four  added  vydhrtis 
('mahar,'  'ianas,' ' tapatS' satyam')  became  names 
of  still  higher  worlds.  Thus,  in  some  later  Upa- 
nisads seven  worlds  are  mentioned,  and  In  the 
Arwneya  f/panijarf  these  seven  worlds  ('Mur'  .  .  . 
'satyam')  are  distinguished  from  seven  nether 
worlds  1  Atala,  Fatilla,  Vltala,  Sul  ala,  Hasatala, 
Mahatala,  and  Talatala.  This  last  conception  of  a 
twice  sevenfold  world  was,  in  the  next  period, 
dovuloped  in  detail. 

3.  Period  of  the  Epics  and  the  Puranas. — While 
In  the  preceding  period  cosmogonio  myths  are  of 
an  episodical  character,  the  same  subject  is  now 


treated  more  at  length,  and  for  its  own  sake.  Its 
importance  is  fully  recognized  in  the  I'urilnas  ;  for 
cosmogony  and  secondary  creation — i.e.  tlio  suc- 
cessive destructions  and  renovations  of  the  world — 
belong  to  tho  live  characteristic  topics  (pailrtmlak- 
Sana)  of  the  Puranas. 

1  In  the  cosmography  of  the  Yoaabtultya,  which  will  lie  dealt 
with  In  «  3,  the  nauii'S  of  tho  highest  uolestial  spheres  are 
M&hendra,  PraJ&patya,  uud  llrahma. 


iiyiLi  - 


158 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Indian) 


The  variety  of  views  as  to  the  origin  of  the  world 
which  obtained  in  the  preceding  periods  Btill  con- 
tinues ;  but  there  is  a  decided  tendency  towards 
introducing  some  order.  The  mythological  ele- 
ments of  cosmogony  are  mostly  adopted  from 
Vedic  literature,  and  further  developed ;  some  are 
of  more  modern  origin ;  both  elements  are  vari- 
ously combined.  These  mythological  elements  are 
as  follows:  (1)  the  highest  godhead,  Brahman  or 
Atman,  identified  with  Narayana,  Visnu,  Sambhu, 
etc.,  according  to  the  sectarian  tendency  of  the 
author ;  (2)  the  primeval  waters  or  darkness ;  (3) 
the  Purusa  or  Hiranyagarbha,  who  sprang  up 
therein  ;  (4)  the  world-egg,  which  brought  forth 
Brahma  (or  Prajapati,  Pitamaha) ;  (5)  the  lotus, 
from  which  sprang  Brahma  ;  the  lotus  itself  came 
forth  either  from  the  waters  or  from  the  navel  of 
Visnu ;  (6)  the  intermediate  creators,  or  mental 
sons  of  Brahma,  numbering  seven  or  eight,  Marlchi, 
etc.  j  (7)  the  successive  creations  and  destructions 
of  the  world.  Though  the  last-mentioned  concep- 
tion can  be  traced  to  a  greater  antiquity,1  it  was 
only  then  developed  into  a  gigantic  chronology  of 
the  world  which  reckoned  by  kalpas,  manvantaras, 
and  yugas  (see  art.  AGES  OF  THE  WORLD  [Indian]). 
This  system  was  employed  in  order  to  reconcile 
conflicting  views  on  the  origin  of  the  world  by 
assigning  some  cosmogonic  processes  to  primary, 
some  to  secondary,  creation,  and  by  distinguishing 
the  several  secondary  creations.  But  all  these 
attempts  at  systematic  order  resulted  in  greater 
confusion,  for  primary  and  secondary  creations 
were  inextricably  mixed  up  with  one  another. 
The  framers  of  cosmogonic  systems  in  the  Mahd- 
bharata  and  the  Puranas  freely  laid  under  contribu- 
tion the  Sahkhya  philosophy  ;  they  took  over  from 
it  the  evolutionary  theory  as  taught  by  Kapila,  or 
they  tried  to  improve  on  it.  As  it  formed  the  theo- 
retical foundation  of  cosmogony,  a  brief  sketch  of 
it  must  be  given  here. 

According  to  Sahkhya  philosophy,  there  are  two 
principles,  entirely  independent  of  each  other :  (1) 
the  souls,  Purusas ;  and  (2)  Prakrti,  original 
nature,  or  Pradhana  (principle,  viz.  matter), 
which  is  made  up  of  the  three  gunas  (secondary 
elements)— darkness  (tamos),  activity  [rajas),  and 
goodness  (sattva) — in  the  state  of  equipoise.  When 
this  equilibrium  is  disturbed  through  the  presence 
(or  co-inexistence)  of  the  Purusa,  then  from  Prakrti 
is  developed  Mahan  or  Buddhi,  the  thinking  sub- 
stance, which  chiefly  consists  of  sattva.  From 
Buddhi  is  developed  Ahamkara,  a  substance  the 
function  of  which  is  to  produce  the  conceit  of  indi- 
viduality. Ahamkara  produces  the  mind  (manas), 
the  five  organs  of  sense  (buddhindriya),  the  five 
organs  of  action  (karmendriya),  and  the  five  subtle 
elements  (tanmatra).  The  last,  combining  with 
one  another,  form  the  five  gross  elements  (mafid- 
bhuta)  ■.  space  (or  air),  fire,  wind,  water,  and  earth. 
These  are  the  twenty-five  principles  (tattvas)  of 
Sahkhya.  They  and  the  order  of  their  production 
have  been  adopted,  and  adapted  to  the  order  of 
ideas  taught  in  the  Upanisads,  by  the  authors  of 
those  parts  of  the  Mahabharata  which  deal  with 
the  evolution  of  the  world.  In  trying  to  reconcile 
Vedic  cosmogony  with  the  principles  of  Sankhya 
philosophy,  those  didactic  poets  invented  various 
changes  of  the  latter  or  of  their  arrangement, 
though  none  of  these  attempts  was  generally 
adopted.  We  shall  mention  only  two  points  in 
which  the  epic  writers  departed  from  the  Sankhya 
system  and,  at  the  same  time,  disagreed  among 
themselves.  (1)  The  established  belief  in  a  first 
cause,  Brahman  or  Atman,  was  radically  opposed 
to  the  Sahkhya  doctrine  of  two  mutually  inde- 
pendent principles,  Purusa  and  Prakrti ;  yet  both 

1  It  is  found  as  early  as  the  Smttiivatara  arA  Maitrayaxta 
Upanisads. 


views  had  to  be  harmonized  somehow.  No  wonder 
that  opinion  differed  widely  on  this  head.  For 
instance,  Purusa  is  identified  with  Pradh&na,  or 
Hiranyagarbha  with  Buddhi,  or  Brahma  with 
Ahamkara,  etc.  (2)  The  Sankhya  doctrine,  wkich 
derived  the  elements  from  Ahamkara  through  the 
interposition  of  the  transcendent  tanmatr&s,  seems 
to  have  been  thought  unduly  abstruse  by  those 
poets  who  preached  to  a  mixed  audience.  They 
therefore  usually  omit  the  tanmatrds,  and  make 
the  mahdbhutas  the  direct  product  of  Ahamkdra, 

i'ust  as  in  the  Upanisads  the  elements  are  said  to 
ave  sprung  directly  from  Brahman.  It  is  needless 
for  our  purpose  to  multiply  instances ;  for  details 
the  reader  is  referred  to  E.  Washburn  Hopkins' 
work;  The  Great  Epic  of  India,  New  York,  1901. 
in  which  epic  philosophy  is  exhaustively  treated 
(p.  85  ff.).  It  must,  however,  be  stated  that  some 
scholars,  e.g.  Dahlmann,1  and  DeuEsen,'  are  of  the 
opinion  that  epic  Sankhya  represents  a  preliminary 
state  of  speculation,  from  which  systematic  San- 
khya was  developed. 

The  cosmologies!  passages  of  the  Great  Epie 
belong  to  an  age  of  transition,  and  none  of  them 
seems  ever  to  have  been  generally  accepted  as  aa 
authoritative  exposition  of  the  subject.  It  is,  how- 
ever, different  with  another  document  which  may 
roughly  be  assigned  to  the  same  period — the  cosmo- 
gonic account  in  the  Laws  o/Jaanu,  i.  6  ft ;  for  It 
(or  parts  of  it)  is  quoted  in  a  great  number  of 
mediaeval  works,  and  it  may  therefore  serve  to 
illustrate  the  state  of  the  views  on  cosmogony 
which  prevailed  before  the  time  when  the  Puranas 
took  their  present  form.  We  quote  here  Butler's 
translation  in  SBE  xxv.  2  ff. 

'  This  (universe)  existed  in  tho  shape  of  Darkness,  anperceived, 
destitute  of  distinctive  marks,  unattainable  by  reasoning-,  un- 
knowable, wholly  immersed,  as  it  were,  in  deep  sleep  (6).  Then 
the  divine  Self-existent  (Svayarhbhri,  himself)  indiscernible,  (but) 
making  (all)  this,  the  great  elements  and  the  rest,  discernible, 
appeared  with  irresistible  (creative)  power,  dispelling  the  dark- 
ness (6).  He  who  can  be  perceived  by  the  Internal  organ 
(alone),  who  is  subtile,  Indiscernible,  and  eternal,  who  contains 
all  created  beingB  and  is  inconceivable,  shone  forth  of  his  own 
(will)  (7).  He,  desiring  to  produce  beings  of  many  kinds  from 
his  own  body,  first  with  a  thought  created  the  waters,  sad 
placed  his  seed  in  them  (8).  That  (seed)  became  a  golden  egg, 
In  brilliancy  equal  to  the  sun  ;  in  that  (egg)  he  himself  was  bora 
as  Brahman,  the  progenitor  of  the  whole  world  (9).  The  waters 
are  called  ndrah,  (for)  the  waters  are,  indeed,  the  offspring  of 
Nara ;  as  they  were  his  first  residence  (ai/ana),  be  thence  is 
named  Narayana  (101  From  that  (first)  cause,  which  is  Indis- 
cernible, eternal,  ana  both  real  and  unreal,  was  produced  that 
male  (Purusa),  who  Is  famed  in  this  world  (under  the  appella- 
tion of)  Brahman  (11).  The  divine  one  resided  In  that  egg 
during  a  whole  year,  then  he  himself  by  his  thought  (alone) 
divided  ft  into  two  halves  (12) ;  and  out  of  those  two  halves  ha 
formed  heaven  and  earth,  between  them  the  middle  sphere,  the 
eight  points  of  the  horizon,  and  the  eternal  abode  of  the  waters 
(18).  From  himself  (dimanaji)  he  also  drew  forth  the  mind, 
which  Is  both  real  and  unreal,  likewise  from  the  mind  egoism, 
which  possesses  the  function  of  sell-consciousness  (and  is) 
lordly  (14) ;  moreover,  the  great  one,  the  soul,  and  all  (pro- 
ducts) affected  by  the  three  qualities,  and,  in  their  order,  tha 
five  organs  which  perceive  the  objects  of  sensation  (16).  But, 
joining  minute  particles  even  of  those  six,  which  possess 
measureless  power,  with  particles  of  himself,  he  created  aA 
beings  (1(3).  Because  those  six  (kinds  of)  minute  particles, 
which  form  the  (creator's;  frame,  enter  (o-4ri)  these  (creaturesX 
therefore  the  wise  call  his  frame  iarira  (the  body)  (17).  That 
the  great  elements  enter,  together  with  their  functions  and  the 
mind,  through  its  minute  parts  the  framer  of  all  beings,  the 
imperishable  one  (18).  But  from  minute  body  (-framing)  par- 
ticles of  these  seven  very  powerful  Purusas  springs  this  (world), 
the  perishable  from  the  Imperishable  (19).  Among  them,  each 
(succeeding)  element  acquires  the  quahty  of  the  preceding  one, 
and  whatever  place  (in  the  sequence)  each  of  them  occupies, 
even  so  many  qualities  it  is  declared  to  possess  (20).  But  in  the 
beginning  he  assigned  their  several  names,  actions,  and  condi- 
tions to  all  (created  beingsX  even  according  to  the  words  of  tins 
Veda  (21).  He,  the  Lord,  also  created  the  class  of  the  gods, 
who  are  endowed  with  life,  and  whose  nature  is  action ;  and 
the  subtile  class  of  the  Sadhyas,  and  the  eternal  sacrifice  (22). 
But  from  fire,  wind,  and  the  sun  he  drew  forth  the  threefold 
eternal  Veda,  called  Rich,  Yajus,  and  Saman,  for  the  due  per- 
formance of  the  sacrifice  (23).    Time  and  the  divisions  of  time, 


1  MaJidbharatarStuditn,  ii. '  Die Samkhya-Philosophie,'  Berlin, 
1002. 
a  Op.  at.  I  3,  p.  18. 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Indian) 


159 


the  lunar  mansions  and  the  planets,  the  rivers,  the  oceans,  the 
mountains,  plains,  and  uneven  ground  (24),  austerity,  speech, 
pleasure,  desire,  and  anger,  this  whole  creation  he  likewise 
produced,  as  he  desired  to  call  these  beings  Into  existence  (25). 
Moreover,  In  order  to  distinguish  actions,  he  separated  merit 
from  demerit,  and  he  caused  the  creatures  to  be  affected  by  the 
pairs  (of  opposites),  such  as  pain  and  pleasure  (26).  But  with 
the  minute  perishablo  particles  of  the  fire  (elements)  which 
have  been  mentioned,  this  whole  (world)  Is  framed  in  due  order 
(27X  .  .  .  But  for  the  sake  of  the  prosperity  of  the  worlds,  he 
caused  the  Brahmaya,  the  Ksatriya,  the  Vaisya,  and  the  Sudja 
to  proceed  from  his  mouth,  his  arms,  his  thighs,  and  his  feet 
(31)1  Dividing  his  own  body,  the  Lord  became  half  male  and 
half  female ;  with  that  female  he  produced  VirSj  (32X'  From 
Virfij  BprangManu  Svayariibhu,  who, '  desiring  to  produce  created 
beings,  performed  very  difficult  austerities,  and  (thereby)  called 
into  existence  ten  great  sages,  lords  of  created  beings — Marichi, 
Atri,  Angiraa,  Pulastya,  Pulaha,  Rratu,  Prachetas,  Vasistha, 
Bhrgu,and  Narada  (34,  85).'  These  secondary  Prajapatis  created 
the  other  Manus,  gods,  demons,  men,  animals,  plants,  etc.  Next 
comes  the  account  of  the  destructions  and  secondary  creations 
of  the  world,  the  days  and  nights  of  Brahma,  the  syBtem  of 
tmgtu  and  manvantaras,  etc.  (For  details,  see  Aqbs  op  thh 
World  [Indian].) 

A  very  full  discussion  of  the  cosmogony  in  Manu  and  its 
relation  to  the  account*  in  other  sources  will  be  found  in  W. 
Jahn,  Uber  die  kogmogon,  Grundanschauungen  im  MAnavtt- 
dharma-Sdstram,  Leipzig,  1904. 

Cosmogony  in  the  Puranas,  in  the  form  in  which 
they  have  come  down  to  us,  is,  on  the  whole,  a 
later  development  of  that  which  we  have  just 
described.  Here,  too,  the  evolutionary  theory  of 
Sankhya  has  been  bo  modified  as  to  agree  with  the 
Vedantic  doctrine  about  the  oneness  of  Brahman, 
by  assuming  that  Purusa  and  Prakrti  are  but  two 
forms  of  the  Supreme  Deity,  who  is  identified  with 
one  of  the  popular  gods  according  to  the  sectarian 
character  of  the  work.  An  abstract  from  the 
account  of  the  creation  in  the  Visnu  Purdna '  may 
serve  to  illustrate  Pauranic  cosmogony,  if  we  keep 
in  mind  that  the  accounts  in  other  Puranas  are, 
on  the  whole,  similar  in  tenor,  though  they  may 
vary  in  details.  According  to  the  Visnu  Purdna, 
the  self-existent  Brahman  is  Vasudeva ;  he  is 
originally  and  essentially  but  one,  still  he  exists 
in  three  successively  proceeding  forms :  Purusa, 
Pradhana  (both  unevolved  and  evolved),  and  Kala 
(time),  the  latter  acting  as  the  bond  connecting  the 
former  two.  When  the  Supreme  Deity  enters 
Purusa  and  Pradhana  (the  equilibrium  of  the  three 
gunas),  then  Pradhana  produces  Mahan  or  Buddhi, 
which  in  its  turn  produces  Ahamkara ;  and  so  the 
five  subtle  elements,  the  gross  elements,  and  the 
eleven  organs  are  produced,  much  in  the  same  way 
as  is  taught  in  Sankhya  philosophy.  But  the 
Puranas  teach,  in  addition  to  the  evolutionary 
theory,  that  each  generating  principle  or  element 
envelops  the  one  generated  by  it.  The  gross 
elements  combine  into  a  compact  mass,  the  world- 
egg  (brahmdnda),  which  rests  on  the  waters,  and 
is  surrounded  by  seven  envelopes — water,  wind, 
fire,  air,  Ahamkara,  Buddhi,  and  Pradhana.  In 
the  world-egg  the  highest  deity,  invested  with  the 
guna  activity,  appeared  in  the  form  of  Brahma, 
and  created  all  things.  The  same  deity  in  the 
guna  goodness  preserves,  as  Visnu,  the  Universe 
till  the  end  of  a  kalpa,  when  the  same  god,  in  the 
awful  form  of  Rudra,  destroys  it.  The  third 
chapter  of  the  Visnu  Purdna  deals  with  time,  the 
days  and  nights  of  Brahma,  the  duration  of  his 
life,  etc.  (see  Ages  OF  the  World  [Indian]).  The 
next  chapter  describes  how,  in  the  beginning  of  a 
kalpa,  Narayana,  in  the  shape  of  a  boar,  raised  the 
earth  from  beneath  the  waters  and  created  the  four 
lower  spheres — earth,  sky,  heaven,  and  Maharloka. 
In  the  fifth  chapter  occur  some  more  speculations 
of  Sankhya  character,  and  a  description  of  nine 
creations : 

'The  first  creation  was  that  of  Mahat,  or  Intellect,  which  Is 
called  the  creation  of  Brahma.  The  second  waB  that  of  the 
rudimental  principles  {tanmatTds\  thence  termed  elemental 
creation  (Bhutaiarga).  The  third  was  the  modified  form  of 
egotism,  termed  the  organio  creation  or  creation  of  the  Benses 
{Aindriyika).    These   three  were  the  Prakrta  creations,   the 


1  H.  H.  Wilson,  Fwnrju  Purdna,  vol.  i.  (London,  1864). 


developments  of  indiscrete  nature,  preceded  by  the  indiscrete 
principle.  The  fourth  or  fundamental  creation  (of  perceptible 
things)  was  that  of  inanimate  bodies.  The  fifth,  the  Tairyagyonya 
creation,  was  that  of  animals.  The  sixth  was  the  Urdhvaarotas 
creation,  or  that  of  the  divinities.  The  creation  of  the  Arvak- 
srotas  beings  was  the  Beventh,  and  was  that  of  man.  There  is 
an  eighth  creation,  termed  Anugraha,  which  possesses  both 
the  qualities  of  goodness  and  darkness.  Of  these  creations  five 
are  secondary,  and  three  are  primary.  But  there  is  a  ninth, 
the  Kaumara  creation,  which  is  both  primary  and  secondary. 
These  are  the  nine  creations  of  the  great  progenitor  of  all,  and, 
both  as  primary  and  secondary,  are  the  radical  causes  of  the 
world,  proceeding  from  the  sovereign  creator.'  1 

The  seventh  chapter  relates  how  Brahma  after 
the  creation  of  the  world  created  '  other  mind-born 
sons  like  himself ' ;  about  the  number  and  names, 
however,  of  these  Prajapatis,  or  mental  sona  of 
Brahma,  the  different  Puranas  do  not  agree.1  Then 
Brahma  created  Mann  Svayarhbhuva,  for  the 
protection  of  created  beings.  Manu's  daughter 
Prasuti  was  married  to  one  of  the  Prajapatis, 
Daksa,  who  thereby  became  the  ancestor  of  a  great 
number  of  divine  beings,  mostly  of  an  allegorical 
character,  as  personified  virtues  and  vices. 

The  preceding  abstracts  from  the  Visnu  Purdna 
give  some  idea  of  the  heterogeneous  character  of 
the  cosmogonic  theory  which  henceforth  was 
generally  adopted.  Mythological  and  theosophic 
notions  inherited  from  the  Vedic  period  have  been 
combined  with  notions  of  later  origin — genealogic 
legends,  the  evolutionary  system  of  Sankhya,  and 
the  scheme  of  the  Ages  of  the  World — in  order  to 
give  a  rational  theory  of  the  origin  and  develop- 
ment of  the  world  in  harmony  with  the  teachings 
of  the  Vedas.  But  the  materials  proved  too 
refractory,  or  rather  the  authors  were  not  bold 
enough  in  re-modelling  the  old  traditions  j  hence 
their  work  leaves  the  impression  of  disparate  parts, 
ill-combined  or  only  formally  united. 

The  authors  of  the  Puranas  succeeded  better  in 
delineating  a  plan  of  the  Universe  ;  for  the  cosmo- 
graphic  notions  which  are  contained  in  the  Vedas, 
and  which  have  been  sketched  above  under  §  I, 
lent  themselves  readily  to  such  an  undertaking. 
The  Great  Epic  addea  little  to  the  old  stock  of 
cosmographic  ideas,  except  a  detailed  description 
of  the  earth  and  some  particulars  about  the  bells. 
There  was,  indeed,  the  ancient  belief  in  worlds  of 
Indra,  Varuna,  Vayu,  Agni,  Aditya,  Yama,  eto., 
but  the  notions  as  to  the  situation  of  these  worlds 
(except  those  of  Indra  and  Yama)  seem  always  to 
have  been  rather  vague,  so  that  the  authors  of  the 
Puranas  were  not  over  much  prejudiced  by  tradition 
in  their  endeavours  to  devise  a  systematic  cosmo- 
graphy. The  system  is  practically  the  same  in  all 
Puranas ;  the  following  description  of  it  is  based 
on  the  Visnu  Purdna,  while  for  the  discrepancies 
in  details  the  reader  may  be  referred  to  Wilson's 
notes  in  his  translation  of  the  Visnu  Purdna. 

The  whole  system  of  the  worlds  contained  In  the 
world-egg  may  be  divided  into  three  parts  in 
agreement  with  the  ourrent  expressions  tribhuvana, 
trailokya,  eto.,  'the  three  worlds.'    The  middle 

Eart,  which  is,  however,  many  times  nearer  the 
ase  than  the  top,  is  formed  by  the  earth,  an 
enormous  disk  of  five  hundred  millions  of  yojanas 
in  extent ;  it  is  encircled  by  the  Lokaloka  mountain, 
and  contains  the  continents  and  oceans.  A  descrip- 
tion of  the  earth  need  not  detain  us  here,  as  it  will 
be  given  in  the  art.  GEOGRAPHY  (Mythical).  Above 
the  earth  are  the  heavens,  and  below  it  the  nether 
worlds,  or  Pdtula.  But  actually  the  Universe  is 
divided  into  two  parts  ;  for  it  consists  of  seven 
upper  regions,  the  lowest  of  which  is  the  earth, 
and  of  the  seven  nether  regions.  Hence  frequently 
fourteen  worlds  are  spoken  of.  To  these  two 
divisions  have  been  added  the  hells,  somewhere  in 
the  lowest  part  of  the  Universe.     The  number  of 

'  Wilson,  op.  oit.  I.  74  9. 

9  lb.  p.  100,  note ;  of.  the  passage  from  Manu  quoted  above, 
verse  84  f. 


160 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Indian) 


hells  seems  originally  not  to  have  been  fixed  ( Visnu 
Purana,  ii.  6),  though  Manu  (iv.  87)  gives  their 
number  as  twenty-one.1 

Omitting  the  helix,  I  hero  are  seven  nether  worlds 
(Atala,  Vitala,  Nitala,  (Jabhastimat,  Mahatala, 
Sutala,  and  Patftla),'  and  the  seven  upper  worlds 
(Bhur  [the  earth],  Dyaus,  Svar,  Maliar,  Janas, 
Tapas,  and  Satya).  PatiXla — for  this  is  also  the 
collective  name  of  the  seven  nether  worlds — 
extends  downwards  70,000  yojanaa  bolow  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  each  of  its  seven  regions 
having  a  depth  of  10,000  yojanaa.  Patala  is  the 
abode  of  N&gas,  Daityas,  and  Danavas,  and  it 
equals  the  heavens  in  beauty  and  magnificence. 
Below  Patala  is  the  dragon  Sesa,  who  '  bears  the 
entire  world  like  a  diadem  upon  his  head,  and  who 
is  the  foundation  on  which  the  seven  Patalas  rest.' 
As  said  above,  the  hells,  or  narakas,  are  beneath 
Patala  ;  but  their  exact  situation  cannot  be  made 
out,  because  some  place  them  below,  gome  above, 
the  waters  which  encircle  the  Universe.  The  cause 
of  this  uncertainty  with  regard  to  the  hells  seems 
to  have  been  that  originally  they  were  not 
distinguished  from  the  nether  worlds.  For,  as  will 
be  Been  below  (§  4),  the  Jains  have  seven  hells 
instead  of  seven  Patalas,  and  find  room  for  the 
Asuras  in  caves  below  the  earth  and  above  the  first 
hell,  instead  of  seven  Patalas.  The  upper  regions 
begin  with  the  terrestrial  sphere,  Bhurloka ;  the 
next  is  Bhuvarloka,  or  Dyaus,  which  reaches 
thence  to  the  sun  ;  while  from  the  sun  to  the  pole 
star  extends  the  Svarloka,  or  the  heaven  of  the 
gods.  These  three  worlds  are  destroyed  at  the  end 
of  each  kalpa.  The  next  higher  world,  Maharloka, 
is  not  destroyed,  but  at  the  end  of  the  kalpa  its 
tenants  repair  to  the  next  region,  the  Janaloka, 
the  inhabitants  of  which  are  Sanandana  and  other 
sons  of  Brahma.  The  sixth  region  is  Tapaloka, 
peopled  by  the  Vairaja  gods;  and  above  it  is  the 
highest  region,  Satyaloka  or  Brahmaloka,  the 
inhabitants  of  which  never  know  death.  It  must, 
however,  be  stated  that  the  different  Puranas  do 
not  agree  regarding  the  inhabitants  of  the  higher 
heavens.  The  distance  of  these  regions  from  one 
another  increases  from  below  upwards :  Maharloka 
is  ten  million  yojanaa  above  the  pole  star,  Janaloka 
twenty,  Tapaloka  eighty,  and  Satyaloka  a  hundred 
and  twenty,  millions  of  yojanas  above  the  next 
lower  region. 

A  somewhat  different  description  of  the  Universe 
is  given  by  Vyasa  in  the  YogabhOsya,  iii.  28.  This 
account,  which  may  be  asoribed  to  the  7th  cent. 
A.D.,  is  much  more  detailed  than  that  of  the 
Puranas,  with  which,  however,  it  agrees  on  the 
whole.  But  it  has  also  some  curious  affinities  with 
the  Buddhist  description  of  the  world,  in  proper 
names  as  well  as  in  the  part  played  by  contempla- 
tion. The  entire  Universe  is  contained  in  the 
world-egg,  which  is  but  an  infinitesimally  small 
particle  of  the  Pradhana.  It  consists  of  seven 
regions  (bhumi),  one  above  the  other.  The  lowest 
is  Bhurloka,  which  extends  from  the  lowest  hell 
to  the  top  of  mount  Mem.  The  second  region, 
Antarihsaloka,  reaches  to  the  pole  star.  The  third 
is  termed  Svar-  or  Mahendraloka ;  the  fourth 
Mahar-  or  Prajapatyaloka.  The  fifth,  sixth,  and 
seventh  regions,  called  Jana-,  Tapa-,  and  Satya- 
lokas,  form  together  the  tripartite  Brahmaloka. 
Bhurloka  is  subdivided  into  hells,  Patalas,  and 
earth.  At  the  bottom  of  Bhurloka  are  the  seven 
hells,  ■  one  above  the  other.  Their  names  are : 
Avichi,  Ghana,  Salila,  Anala,  Anila,  Akasa,  and 
Tamahpratistha  j  with  the  exception  of  Avichi,  a 
popiflar  name  of  hell,  these  hells  seem  to  be 
identical   with   the   envelopes   of   the  world-egg 

'  For  particular!,  see  Wilson,  op.  nit.  ii.  216,  and  Uall  a  note 
to  that  passage. 
3  For  variations  in  other  Puranas,  see  Wilson,  op.  cat.  i.  SOS. 


in  the  Pauranio  account.  Probably  for  this  reason 
these  six  hells  each  bear  another  name,  as  stated 
by  Vyasa,  viz.  Mahakala,  Ambarisa,  Raurava, 
Maharaurava,  K&lasutra,  and  Andhatamiai  a. 
Above  the  hells  are  the  seven  Patalas  :  Mahatala, 
Basitala,  Atala,  Sutala,  Vitala,  Talatala,  and 
Patala.  Above  these  seven  bhumia  is  the  eighth, 
the  earth,  Vasumati,  with  the  seven  continents, 
etc.,  which  may  be  passed  over  here. 

As  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  seven  regions  of  the 
Universe,  the  following  notions  are  found.  (1) 
In  the  Patalas,  in  the  oceans  and  on  the  moan  tains 
of  the  earth  live  the  following  classes  of  gods 
(devanikdyaa) :  Asuras,  Gandharvas,  Kinnaras, 
Kimpurusas,  Yaksas,  Ralcsasas,  Bhutas,  Pretas, 
Apasmarakas,  Apsaras,  Brahmaralq>asas,  Kusma- 
iidas,  and  VinAyakas  ;  in  the  continents  live  gods 
and  men,  and  on  Meru  are  the  parks  and  palaces 
of  the  gods.  (2)  Antariksaloka  is  the  sphere  of 
the  celestial  bodies.  (3)  In  Mahendra  are  six 
classes  of  gods:  Tridaeas,  Afjnisvataa,  Yamyas, 
Tusitas,  Aparlnirmitavasavartins,  and  Parimrmi- 
tavasavartins.  (4)  In  Pruj&patya  there  are  fire 
classes  of  gods:  Kumudas,  liibhus,  Pratardanai, 
Afijanabhas,  and  Prachitabhas.  (5)  In  Janaloka 
there  are  four  classes  1  Brahmapo."'  itcs,  Brahma- 
kayikas,  Brahmamahakayikaa,  c  J.  lunara*.  (0) 
In  Tapaloka  there  are  three  elasse*  :■  Abuasyarat, 
Mahabhasvaras,  and  Satyamahabhasvaras.  (7)  In 
Satyaloka  there  are  four  classes :  Aehyutas,  Bud- 
dhanivasas,  Satyabhas,  and  bam jnasamjnins.  The 
gods  in  the  regions  from  Pr&japatya  upwards  lire 
on  contemplation  (dhyandhdra) ;  their  powers  and 
the  duration  of  their  life  increase  by  bounds  from 
below  upwards  ;  the  gods  in  Tapaloka  are  not  re- 
born in  a  lower  sphere,  and  the  four  classes  of 
gods  in  Satyaloka  realize  the  happiness  of  the  four 
degrees  of  contemplation  respectively — taint  arta, 
savichdra,  dnandam&tra,  sadaindtdnidtra-dhyana. 
Cf.  art.  Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Buddhist). 

The  detailed  knowledge  of  the  structure  of  the 
Universe  was  generally  believed  to  have  been 
reached  by  contemplation  ;  this  is  expressly  stated 
by  Patafijali  in  Yogas-SXra,  iii.  26,  and  by  the  Jain 
writer  Umasvati  in  TattvSrihadhigama  Sutra,  ix. 
37.  Notwithstanding,  or  rather  "because  of,  its 
visionary  character,  Pauraniccosmography  became, 
as  it  were,  an  article  of  faith.1  The  general  belief 
in  it  was  not  shaken  even  by  the  introduction  of 
scientific  astronomy,  though  the  astronomers  tried 
to  remodel  the  traditional  cosmography  on  the 
basis  of  their  science.  The  result  of  this  com- 
promise may  be  seen  in  the  following  abstract 
from  the  Surya  Siddhanta,  xii.  29  ff. :  * 

'This  Brahma-egg  is  hollow  ;  within  it  is  the  universe,  000- 
sistlng  of  earth,  sky,  etc  ;  it  has  the  form  of  a  sphere,  liks  a 
receptacle  made  of  a  pair  of  caldrona  (291    A  circle  within  the 
Brahma-egg  is  styled  the  orhlt  of  the  ether  (vymnan) ;  within 
that  is  the  revolution  of  the  asterisms  (bha) ;  and  likewise,  In    1 
order,  one  below  the  other  (30)  revolve  Saturn,  Jupiter,  Mara, 
the  sun,  Venus,  Mercury,  and  the  moon ;  below,  in  succession, 
the  Perfected  (eiddha),  t&e  Possessors  of  Knowledge  (oufyaV    | 
dhuru),  and  the  clouds  (SIX  ■  •  •   Sevan  cavities  within  it,  the 
abodes  of  serpents  (fuSpa)  and  demons  (<wura),  endowed  with 
the  savour  of  heavenly  plauts,  delightful,  are  the  mter-terraneaa 
(pat&la)  earths  (36).    A  collection  of  manifold  jewels,  a  mountain 
of  gold,  is  Meru,  passing  through  the  middle  of  the  earth-globe,    | 
and  protruding  on  either  Bide  (36V 

Literature  to  99  a  and  3  has  been  Indicated  in  the  above.  ( 

4.  Jain  cosmography. — According  to  the  Jains,  L 
the  world  is  eternal,  without  beginning  or  end. 
They  have  therefore  no  cosmogony,  but  they  have  1 
a  cosmography  of  their  own  which  differs  widely 
from  that  of  the  Brahmans,  especially  with  regard 
to  the  upper  spheres  or  heavens.  The  Universe 
takes  up  only  that  part  of  space  which,  from  this 

1  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  in  these  cosmographio  systems 
worlds  are  assigned  to  the  more  ancient  gods,  viz.  India,  the 
Prajapatis,  and  Brahman,  but  not  to  Visou  and  Siva ;  indeed 
Visuu  s  heaven,  Vaikuntha,  is  wanting  in  those  lists  of  heavens.  • 
Apparently  the  authors  of  cosmography  had  not  come  I 
the  influence  of  popular  Vaisuavism  or  Saivism. 

•  Burgess's  tr.  in  JAOS  vL  £46. 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Iranian? 


161 


circumstance,  is  called  Lokak&sa ;  the  remaining 
part,  Alokakasa,  is  an  absolute  void  and  perfectly 
impenetrable  to  anything,  either  matter  or  souls. 
The  Lokakasa  is  coterminous  with  the  two  sub- 
stances Dharma  and  Adharma,  the  substrata  of 
motion  and  rest,  which  are,  therefore,  the  indis- 
pensable conditions  of  the  presence  of  all  existing 
things.  '  The  world  is  figured  by  the  Jainas  as  a 
spindle  resting  on  half  of  another ;  or,  as  they 
describe  it,  three  enps,  of  which  the  lowest  is 
inverted  ;  and  the  uppermost  meets  at  its  circum- 
ference the  middle  one.  They  also  represent  the 
world  by  comparison  to  a  woman  with  her  arms 
akimbo.  '  Older,  however,  is  the  comparison  with 
a  man  (pttrusa).  The  disk  of  the  earth  is  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  middle,  and  forms  the  waist  of 
the  purusa  ;  below  the  earth  are  the  hells,  and 
above  it  the  upper  regions.  The  entire  world  rests 
on  a  big  layer  of  '  thick  water,'  this  on  one  of 
1  thick  wind,  and  this  again  on  one  of  '  thin  wind.' 
The  last  two  layers  measure  innumerable  thousands 
of  yojana*.  The  seven  lower  regions  (bhumis),  one 
below  the  other,  are  Ratnaprabha,  Narkaraprahha, 
Valuk&prabha,  Pahkaprabha,  Dhumaprabha, 
Tamahprabha,  and  Mahatamahprabha.  Another 
set  of  names  for  them  is  given  by  Umasvati : 
Dharma,  Vamsa,  Saila,  A&iana,  Aris^ft,  Madhavya, 
and  Madbavi  (cf.  the  double  set  of  names  for  the 
hells  in  the  Yogabh&sya,  above,  {  3).  These  regions 
contain  the  hells ;  the  lowest  one  has  but  five, 
while  the  highest  one,  Ratnaprabha,  has  three 
mil  I  ions  of  hells.  Their  inhabitants  are  the  damned, 
narakas,  whose  stay  in  hell  is  not  without  end, 
but  for  fixed  periods  of  time,  varying  from  10,000 
years  to  33  oceans  of  years,  when  they  are  re-born 
in  other  conditions  of  life.  These  regions  are 
separated  from  each  other  by  layers  of  10,000 
yojnnat  containing  no  bells ;  but  in  the  layer 
separating  Ratnaprabha  from  the  earth  are  the 
dwellings  of  the  Bhavanavasin  gods;  these  dwell- 
ings are  apparently  the  Jain  counterpart  of  the 
Brahmanic  Patfilas.  Above  the  seven  regions  of 
the  hells  is  the  disk  of  the  earth,  with  its  numerous 
continents  in  concentric  circles  separated  by  rings 
of  oceans  (Bee  art.  Geography  (Mythical]).  In 
the  middle  of  the  earth  towers  Mount  Mem,  100,000 
yqjanas  high,  round  which  revolve  suns,  moons, 
and  stars,  the  Jyotiska-gods.  Immediately  above 
the  top  of  Mount  Meru  begins  the  threefold  series 
of  heavenly  regions  styled  Vimanas,  and  inhabited 
by  the  Vaimanika  gods.  These  regions  are  as 
follows :  (1)  the  twelve  kalpas,  Saudharma,  Aisana, 
Sanatknmara,  Mahendra,  Brahmaloka,*  Lantaka, 
Mahasnkra,  Sahasrara,  Anata,  Pr  anata,  Arana, 
and  Achyuta  (the  Digambaras  add  Brahmottara 
before  Lantaka;  Kapistha  and  Sukra  after  it, 
and  Satara  after  Mahasukra) ;  (2)  the  nine  Graive- 
yakas  (these  heavens  form  the  neck  [griva]  of  the 
man  figuring  the  world ;  hence  their  name) ;  (3) 
the  five  Anuttaras,  Vijaya,  Vaijayanta,  Jayanta, 
Aparfijita,  and  Sarvarthasiddha.  The  gods  in  the 
Anuttara  Vimanas  will  be  re-born  no  more  than 
twice.  It  is  to  be  understood  that  all  these  twenty- 
six  heavens  are  one  above  the  other.  Above 
Sarvarthasiddha,  at  the  top  of  the  Universe,  is 
situated  Isatpragbhara,  the  place  where  the  souls 
resort  on  their  liberation  (nirvana).  The  following 
description  of  it  is  given  in  the  Uttar&dhyayana 
Sutra,  xxx vi.  57  ff.  (SBE  xlv.  211  f.) : 

'Perfected  souls  are  debarred  from  the  non-world  (Al&ka) ; 
they  reside  on  the  top  of  the  world ;  they  leave  their  bodies 
here  (below),  and  go  there,  on  reaching  perfection  (67).    Twelve 

1  Oolebrooke,  Mitcellantout  Estayt,  London,  1837,  U.  108. 

•  About  the  Brahmaloka  the  following  details  are  given  :  in 
It  live  the  Lok&ntika  gods  (who  will  reach  nirvana  after  one 
re-birth);  and  round  it,  in  the  cardinal  and  intermediate  points 
of  the  compass,  N.E.,  E.  etc.,  are  situated  the_  Vimanas  of  the 
following  eitrht  classes  of  gods :  Sarasvatas,  Adityas,  Vahnls, 
Arupas,  Gardatoyas,  Tusitas,  Avyfcbadhas.  and  Arises. 
VOL.  IV. — II 


yojanai  above  the  (Vuuina)  Snrvartha  Is  the  place  called 
Isatpragbhara,  which  has  the  form  of  an  umbrella  (68>  It  is 
forty-five  hundred  thousand  yojana*  long,  and  as  many  broad, 
and  it  is  somewhat  more  than  three  times  as  many  in  circum- 
ference (69).  Its  thickness  is  eight  yojana* ;  it  is  greatest  in 
the  middle,  and  decreases  toward  the  margin,  till  it  is  thinner 
than  the  wing  of  a  fly  (60).  This  place,  by  nature  pure,  consist- 
ing of  white  gold,  reBembles  In  form  an  open  umbrella,  as  has 
been  said  by  the  best  of  Jinas  (61).  (Above  it)  is  a  pure  blessed 
place  (called  Sita),  which  is  white  like  a  conch-shell,  the  aAka- 
stone,  and  fcurtrfa-flowers ;  a  yojana  thence  is  the  end  of  the 
world  (62).  The  perfected  souls  penetrate  the  sixth  part  of 
the  uppermost  Icroia  of  the  (above-mentioned)  yojana  (68). 
There  at  the  top  of  the  world  reside  the  blessed  perfected  souls, 
rid  of  ail  transmigration,  and  arrived  at  the  excellent  state  of 
perfection  (64).' 

In  concluding  our  exposition  of  Jain  cosmo- 
graphy it  may  be  remarked  that  the  knowledge  of 
it  seems  always  to  have  been  popular  among  the 
Jains,  for  the  plan  of  the  Universe  as  described 
above  is  always  before  the  mind  of  Jain  authors, 
and  they  presuppose  an  acquaintance  with  it  on 
the  part  of  their  readers, 

Litkratubb. — The  above  account  of  Jain  cosmography  la 
based  chiefly  on  Umaavati's  TattvdrOiddhigama  Sutra  (tr.  by 
the  present  writer  in  ZDMQ  lx.  [Leipzig,  10t)6h. 

H.  Jacobi. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Iran- 
ian).— The  chief  Iranian  texts  on  the  creation  of 
the  world  are  Vendiddd  i.  and  Bundahiin.  Of  these 
the  more  elaborate  is  the  latter,  and  according  to 
it  both  Ormazd  and  Ahriman  have  existed  from  all 
eternity — a  view  which  is  as  old  as  the  Gathas 
(cf.  Yasna  xxx.  8,  which  distinctly  terms  the  two 
spirits  '  twins ' — yetna — and  xlv.  2).  The  pair  are 
parted  by  the  ether  (vayu),  and  Ormazd  dwells  in 
'  endless  light,'  while  his  opponent  lurks  in  an 
abyss  of  infinite  darkness.  Ormazd,  moreover, 
was  aware,  through  his  omniscience,  of  the  exist- 
ence of  Ahriman,  but  the  evil  spirit  was  ignorant 
of  the  higher  being  until  aroused  to  conflict  with 
him  by  beholding  light.  Thereupon,  as  Ormazd 
created  excellent  lands,  Ahriman  sought  to  mar 
his  work  by  bringing  into  being  plagues,  moral 
and  physical.  Herein  the  essential  dualism  of 
Zoroastrianism  finds  one  of  its  most  important 
illustrations. 

Zoroastrian  cosmogony  covers  a  period  of  12,000 
years,  which  are  divided  into  four  ages  of  8,000 
years  each.  The  first  of  these  epochs  is  the  age  of 
the  spiritual  creation,  in  which  the  creations  re- 
mained '  in  a  spiritual  state,  so  that  they  were 
unthinking  and  nnmoving,  with  intangible  bodies' 
(BundahiSn  i.  8 ;  Selections  of  Zaf-sparam  i.  22). 
These  spiritual  creations  bear  a  remarkable 
analogy  to  the  Platonic  '  Ideas,'  and  Darmesteter 
has  Bought  (Le  Zend-Avesta  ill.,  Paris,  1893,  pp. 
li-liii),  although  without  success,  to  trace  an 
actual  connexion  between  the  two.  Meanwhile, 
Ahriman  created  demons  for  the  overthrow  of  the 
creatures  of  Ormazd,  and  refused  the  peace  which 
the  celestial  being  offered  him.  Thereupon,  they 
agreed  to  combat  for  nine  thousand  years,  Ormazd 
foreknowing  that  for  three  thousand  years  all 
things  would  go  according  to  his  own  will,  while 
in  the  second  three  thousand  years  the  two  spirits 
should  struggle  in  bitter  conflict,  and  in  the  third 
Ahriman  should  be  utterly  put  to  rout.  The  second 
epoch  of  three  thousand  years  was  that  of  the 
material  creation,  the  order  being,  after  the 
Amesha  Spentas  (g.v.),  heaven  (including  the 
heavenly  bodies),  water,  earth,  plants,  animals, 
and  man.  The  third  period  of  three  thousand 
years  begins  with  the  eruption  of  Ahriman  into 
the  good  creation  of  Ormazd.  The  evil  spirit 
spreads  disease,  devastations,  and  noxiouscreatures, 
throughout  the  world,  harming  and  defiling  water, 
earth,  plants,  and  fire,  in  addition  to  slaving  the 
primeval  ox  and  the  primeval  man.  Finally,  how- 
ever, the  demoniac  hosts  are  driven  back  to  hell. 
The  remainder  of  this  period  is  concerned  with 
the  legendary  history  of  the  Iranian  kings,  so  that 


162 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Japanese) 


neither  it  nor  the  final  eschatologic  period  comes 
under  consideration  in  an  outline  of  the  Persian 
cosmogony. 

Throughout  the  Avesta  the  creation  of  all  things 
is  ascribed  to  Ahura  Mazda  (Ormazd),  as  in  Yasna 
xvi.  1,  although  a  certain  amount  of  creative 
activity  is  also  attributed  to  the  Amshaspands 
(Yasna  lxv.  12;  Visparad  xi.  12;  YaH  xix.  18). 
In  Yasna  xxxvii.  1  occurs  the  striking  passage : 
'  Here,  then,  we  worship  Ahura  Mazda,  who 
created  both  kine  and  holiness,  and  created  water, 
created  both  good  trees  and  light,  botli  the  earth 
and  all  good  things'  (cf.  xliv.  3-5).  That  this 
belief  was  Iranian  is  shown  by  the  recurrence  of 
similar  phraseology  in  the  Old  Persian  inscrip- 
tions, as  in  NR.  a,  1-8  :  '  A  great  god  is  Auramazda, 
who  created  this  earth,  who  created  yon  heaven, 
who  created  man,  who  created  peace  for  man,  who 
made  Darius  king,  the  one  king  of  many,  the  one 
ruler  of  many,'  although  similar  phrases  are  not 
unknown  in  Assyrian  inscriptions  (Gray,  AJSL 
xvii.  152). 

The  creation  itself,  according  to  the  Parsi  Zfrin 
Gahanbdr  (tr.  by  Darmesteter,  op.  cit.  pp.  180-187, 
and  edited  by  him  in  Etudes  iran.,  Paris,  1883,  ii. 
318-333)  and  the  BundahiSn  xxv.  1  (cf.  also  the 
section  of  the  Great  BundahiSn,  tr.  by  Blochet, 
Mim  xxxii.  223),  occupied  a  year.  The  tradition 
of  a  cosmic  epoch  of  12,000  years,  although  not 
mentioned  in  the  extant  Avesta,  must  be  of 
considerable  antiquity,  for  the  historian  Theo- 
pompus,  an  author  of  the  4th  cent.  B.C.,  says,  in 
a  fragment  preserved  by  Plutarch  (de  Iside  et 
Osiride,  xlvii. ) :  '  According  to  the  Magi,  one  of  the 
gods  conquers  and  the  other  is  conquered  for  three 
thousand  years  each  ;  and  for  another  three  thou- 
sand years  they  fight  and  war,  and  one  destroys 
the  works  of  the  other  ;  but  finally  Hades  loses, 
and  mankind  shall  be  blessed,  neither  needing 
nourishment  nor  casting  shadows.'1  The  Iranian 
cosmogony  seems  to  have  been  geocentric,  and, 
according  to  Ddtistdn-i-Denik  xxxvii.  24,  *  the 
sky  is  in  three  thirds,  of  which  the  one  at  the  top 
is  joined  to  the  endless  light,  in  which  is  the  con- 
stantly-beneficial space  ;  the  one  at  the  bottom 
reached  to  the  gloomy  abyss,  in  which  is  the  fiend 
full  of  evil ;  and  one  is  between  those  two  thirds 
which  are  below  and  above'  (cf.  YaH  xiii.  2). 
This  has  led  some  scholars,  notably  Spiegel,  to 
seek  to  find  the  idea  of  the  cosmic  egg  in  Iran,  but 
of  this,  as  Casartelli  has  well  pointed  out,  there 
seems  to  be  little  evidence.  The  question  whether 
the  Iranian  cosmogony  presupposes  a  creation  ex 
nihilo  has  been  much  discussed,  although  it  would 
seem  from  the  phrase  in  the  BundahiSn  (xxx.  5), 
'when  they  were  formed,  it  was  not  forming  the 
future  out  of  the  past,'  that  at  least  in  the  later 
development  of  the  religion  this  doctrine  was 
not  unknown.  The  earlier  texts,  however,  shed 
little  light  on  this  problem,  nor  do  the  verbs  used 
of  the  creative  activity  of  Ormazd  [da,  'establish,' 
Bwares,  'cut';  taS,  'form,'  cf.  Gr.  t{ktuv)  and 
Ahritnan  (karat,  'cut')  give  much  aid,  although 
dwares,  taS,  and  karat  seem  to  imply  the  elabora- 
tion of  already  existing  material,  while  it  may  be 
urged  that  da  connotes,  at  least  in  some  passages, 
actual  creation  ex  nihilo.  Equally  dubious  is  the 
problem  of  the  origin  of  the  Iranian  cosmogony. 
An  elaborate,  comparison  has  been  drawn  by 
Spiegel  (Erdnische  Alterthumskunde,  i.  449-457) 
between  the  Iranian  and  the  Semitic,  particularly 
Hebrew,  accounts  of  the  creation  of  the  world  ;  but 
this  is,  to  say  the  least,  unproven.  It  is  true  that, 
both  in  Genesis  and  in  the  BundahiSn,  creation 
occupiea  six  periods,  but  in  the  former  the  epoch 

1  For  the  Or.  text,  see  vol.  i.  p.  20S",  where  a  (liferent  inter- 
pretation from  the  one  hero  given  (which  agrees  independently 
with  that  of  Lagrange,  Hit,  19l>4,  p.  :jn)  may  tie  found. 


is  a  week  of  six  days,  and  in  the  latter  a  year  of 
six  gahanbars,  and  the  correspondence  in  the  main 
between  the  order  of  the  two  accounts  is  a  natural 
sequence  of  development,  and  not  necessarily  due 
to  the  borrowing  of  either  from  the  other.  It 
should  also  be  noted  that  the  Iranian  account 
makes  no  allowance  for  the  seventh  day  of  the 
Biblical  record,  thus  further  increasing  the  improb- 
ability of  borrowing  from  either  side.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  division  of  the  earth  into  seven 
karSvars,  or  '  zones,'  which  is  mentioned  repeatedly 
in  the  Avesta  (as  in  Yasna  lxi.  5  ;  YaSt  xix.  82), 
and  is  as  old  as  the  Gathas  (Yasna  xxxii.  3),  is 
doubtless  late  Babylonian  in  origin,  especially  as 
the  Semitic  cosmogony  likewise  divided  the  earth 
into  seven  zones  (tubuqdti).  This  origin  of  the 
Iranian  karSvars  seems  more  probable  than  the 
view  which  equates  them  with  the  dvlpas 
('islands')  of  Hindu  cosmogony,  which  usually 
number  seven,  although  they  are  occasionally 
regarded  as  four  or  thirteen.  They  are  not  men- 
tioned, however,  before  the  Mahdbhdrata  and  the 
Puranas,  and  are  thus  probably  too  late  to  have 
influenced  the  Avesta  (cf.  Muir,  Original. Sanskrit 
Texts,  i.3  London,  1872,  pp.  489-504 ;  and,  for  the 
proof  of  Bab.  influence,  P.  Jensen,  Kosmol.  der 
Babylonier,  Strassburg,  1890,  pp.  175-184). 

The  cosmogony  of  the  Iranians,  as  outlined  in 
the  Avesta  and  the  Pahlavi  texts,  underwent  some 
slight  changes  in  the  course  of  time  as  a  result  of 
philosophic  thought.  The  reduction  of  the  dualism 
of  the  Gathas — itself,  no  doubt,  a  reduction  of  an 
earlier  polytheism — to  a  monotheism  gave  rise  to 
the  elaboration  of  the  concept  of  '  Boundless  Tune ' 
(zrvan  akarana),  which  is  hailed  as  a  godling  even 
in  the  so-called  Younger  Avesta  ( Yasna  lxxii.  10; 
NyaiS  i.  8 ;  Vendidad  xix.  13).  The  Zarvanite 
sect,  which  was  an  important  factor  in  Parsiism  as 
early  as  the  4th  cent.  A.D.,  derived  both  Ormazd 
and  Ahriman  from  'Boundless  Time,'  making  tha 
evil  spirit  born  first  in  consequence  of  the  doubt  of 
'Boundless  Time,'  while  Ormazd  did  not  come  into 
being  until  later,  and  was  long  inferior  in  power 
to  Ahriman.  In  somewhat  similar  fashion,  the 
Kaiyomarthians,  another  Zoroastrian  sect,  held 
that  Ahriman,  the  principle  of  evil,  was  sprung 
from  Yazdan  ('God,'  i.e.  Ormazd)  because  of  his 
sinful  thought,  '  if  I  had  an  adversary,  how  would 
he  be  fashioned?'  (Cf.  the  account  of  these  sects 
by  al-Shahrastani,  tr.  Haarbriicker,  i.,  Halle,  1850, 
pp.  270-280  ;  and  see  Spiegel,  Erdn.  Altrrthu7ns- 
Kunde,  ii.  175-189;  Darmesteter,  Ormazd  et  Ahri- 
man, Paris,  1877,  pp.  314-338.)  This  extreme 
unitarian  tendency,  however,  by  which  evil  itself 
was  traced  back  ultimately  to  Ormazd,  was  always 
rejected  by  orthodox  Zoroastrianism. 

Literature. — Spiegel,  Erdn.  Alterthumskunde,  ii.  141-161 
(Leipzig,  1873);  Jackson,  'Iran.  Religion,'  in  Geiger-Kuhn's 
Grundrue  der  iran.  Philologie,  ii.  608-673  (Strussburg,  1904); 
Casartelli,  Philosophy  of  the  Mazdaynsnian  Religion  uiuUr 
the  Sassanidv  (Eng.  tr.  by  Jamasp  Asa,  Bombay,  1889),  pp. 
94-128;  Lukas,  Die  Gntndbcgri/e  in  den  Ko&iwgonien  der 
alten  Vblker  (Leipzig,  1S93),  pp.  100-188;  Soderblom,  'Thoc- 
pompus  and  the  Avestan  Ages  of  the  World,'  in  Daslur  Boshang 
Memorial  Vol.  pp.  SziPilO  (Bombay,  1911). 

Louis  H.  Gray. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Japan- 
ese).— The  most  ancient  and  most  authentic 
account  of  Japanese  cosmogony  is  found  in  the 
Kojiki  ('Records  of  Ancient  Matters,'  A.D.  712). 
The  following  is  the  description  of  the  genesis  of 
the  universe  contained  in  this  valuable  text: 

'The  names  of  the  Deities  that  became  {i.e.  that  were  bom) 
in  the  Plain  of  High  Heaven,  when  Heaven  and  Karth  began, 
were  Aine-no-ini  nuka-iiushi-nokami  (the  Deity  Master-of-tha 
August-Centre-of-Hcaven),  next  Takann-musu-bi-mi.kami  (the 
High- August. Producing. Wondrous. Deity),  next  Kaniwrnisu-bi- 
no-kami  (the  Divine-rrodueiug-Wondrous-Deitv).  These  thres 
Deities  were  all  Deities  born  alone  {i.e.  spontaneously,  without 
being  procreated),  and  hid  their  persons  {i.e.  disappeared,  by 
death  or  otherwise).  The  names  of  the  Deities  that  were  bcrn 
next  from  a  thing  that  sprouted  up  like  unto  a  reed-shoot  when 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Japanese) 


163 


th«  country  (l«.  the  earth),  young  and  like  unto  floating  oil, 
drifted  about  medusa-like,  were  ITmashi-ashl-kabi-hiko-ji-no- 
kami  (the  Pleasant-Reed-Shoot-Prinee-Elder-Deity),  next  Ame- 
no-toko-tachi-no-kami(the  Deity  Standing-Eternaliy-in-Heaven). 
These  two  Deities  were  likewise  born  alone,  and  hid  their 
persons.  The  Ave  Deities  in  the  above  list  are  separate  Heavenly 
Deities  (i.e.  were  separate  from  those  who  came  into  existence 
afterwards). 

1  The  names  of  the  Deities  that  were  born  next  were  Kuni-no- 
toko-tachi-no-kami  (the  Deity  Standing-Eternally-on-Earth), 
nextToyo-kumo-nu-no-kami  (the  Luxu  riant-Integra  ting-Master- 
Deity).  These  two  Deities  were  likewise  Deities  born  alone, 
and  hid  their  persons.  The  names  of  the  Deities  that  were 
bora  next  were  U-hiji-ni-no-kami  (the  Deity  Mud-Earth-Lord), 
next  his  younger  sister  (i.e.  wife)  Su-hiji-ni-no-kami  (the  Deity 
Mud -Earth -Lady) ;  next  Tsunu-guhi-no-kami  (the  Germ-Inte- 
gra ting- Deity  X  next  his  younger  sister  Dru-guhi-no-kaml  (the 
Life-Integrating-Deity);  next  Oho-to-no-Ji-no-kami  (the  Deity 
Elder-of-tbe-Great-Place),  next  his  younger  sister  Oho-to-no-be- 
no-kami  (the  Deity  Elder-Lady-of-the-Great-Place) ;  next  Omo- 
dara-no-kaml(the  Deity  Perfect- Exterior),  nexthisyoungersister 
Aya-kashiko-nQ-no-kami  (the  Deity  Ob-Awful-,  or  Venerable-, 
Lady);  next  Izana-gi-no-kami  (the  Deity  the  Hale-Who-Invites), 
next  his  younger  Bister  Izana-mi-no-kami  (the  Deity  the  Female- 
Who-Invites).  From  the  Deity  Standing-Eternaliy-in-Heaven 
down  to  the  Deity  the  Female- Who-Invites  in  the  foregoing  list 
are  what  are  termed  the  Seven  Divine  Generations.  The  two 
solitary  Deities  above-mentioned  are  each  called  one  generation  : 
of  the  succeeding  ten  Deities  each  pair  of  Deities  is  called  a 
generation'  (EojiK,  at  the  beginning  of  vol.  i.;  tr.  B.  H. 
Chamberlain,  ed.  1906,  p.  16  (.). 

From  these  very  first  lines  of  the  sacred  account 
we  have  before  ns  a  genesiB  that  is  not  lacking  in 
grandeur.  The  world  appears  as  a  nebulous, 
moving  chaos ;  Divine  beings  develop  in  it  by 
spontaneous  generation,  some  being  born  in  the 
heart  of  space,  others  coming  from  a  reed-shoot 
that  has  arisen  from  the  mud  ;  while  others  spring 
up,  at  first  solitary,  then  in  pairs,  following  a 
progress  and  bearing  names  that  recall  in  a  strik- 
ing manner  our  theory  of  evolution.  This  rational 
explanation  of  the  ancient  national  myth  did  not 
escape  the  Japanese  commentators  who  elucidated 
these  texts  in  the  18th  and  19th  centuries. 

"The  god  U-hlji-ni  and  the  goddess  Su-hi]i-ni,'  says  Hirata, 
'  are  so  called  because  they  contained  the  germs  from  which  the 
earth  itself  was  to  spring.  The  god  Oho-to-no-ji  and  the  god- 
dess Oho-to-no-be  are  so  called  Trom  the  primitive  appearance 
of  this  earth.  The  god  Tsunu-gnhl  and  the  goddess  Iku-guhi 
are  so  called  from  the  common  appearance  of  the  earth  and  the 
deities  when  they  sprang  into  existence.  The  god  Omo-daru 
and  the  goddess  Aya-kashiko-ne  are  so  called  from  the  perfect 
character  of  the  august  persons  of  these  deities.  Thus  the 
names  of  all  these  gods  were  given  them  according  to  the 
gradual  progress  of  the  creation. 

And,  indeed,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  above- 
quoted  myth  conceals  under  the  transparent  sym- 
bolism of  its  Divine  figures  an  intellectual  effort  to 
find  a  logical  explanation  of  the  genesis  of  the 
universe. 

To  this  slender  outline  of  the  Kojiki  we  may 
now  add  the  complementary  picture  supplied  by 
the  Nihongi  ('Chronicles  of  Japan,'  A.D.  720). 
This  account  is  less  simple,  and  is  permeated  by 
Chinese  ideas,  which  must  be  eliminated  ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  is  also  richer  in  various  develop- 
ments borrowed  from  other  indigenous  sources. 

'Of  old,  Heaven  and  Earth  were  not  yet  separated,  and  the 
In  and  Yd  not  yet  divided.  They  formed  a  chaotic  mass  like  an 
egg,  which  was  of  obscurely  defined  limits,  and  contained 

Sierms.  The  purer  and  clearer  part  was  thinly  diffused  and 
ormed  Heaven,  while  the  heavier  and  grosser  element  settled 
down  and  became  Earth.  The  finer  element  easily  became  a 
united  body,  but  the  consolidation  of  the  heavy  and  gross 
element  was  accomplished  with  difficulty.  Heaven  was  there- 
fore formed  first,  and  Earth  was  established  subsequently. 
Thereafter  Divine  Beings  were  produced  between~them.  Hence 
It  is  said  that,  when  the  world  began  to  be  created,  the  soil  of 
which  lands  were  composed  floated  about  in  a  manner  which 
might  be  compared  to  the  floating  of  a  fish  sporting  on  the 
surface  of  the  water.  At  this  time  a  certain  thing  was  produced 
between  Heaven  and  Earth.  It  was  in  form  like  a  reed-shoot. 
Now  this  became  transformed  into  a  god,  and  was  called  Kuni- 
toko-tachi-no-mikoto(the  August  Standing-Eternally-on-Earth). 
Next  there  was  Kuni-no-sa-tsuc-hi-no-mikoto  (the  August  True- 
Soil-of-the-Country),  and  next  Toyo-kumu-nu  no-mikoto  (the 
Au?<i=t  r.uxuriant-Integrating-Master),  in  all  three  Deities. 
These  were  pure  males  spontaneously  developed  by  the  opera- 
tion of  the  principle  of  Heaven.' 

At  this  point  the  account  breaks  off,  and  the 
narrator  gives  us  curious  variants  from  the  ancient 
manuscripts  (now  lost)  that  he  had   before  him. 


Sometimes  we  have  the  original  existence,  in  the 
midst  of  the  Void  (sora),  of  a  '  thing  whose  form 
cannot  be  described,'  and  from  which  the  first  god 
is  produced.  Sometimes,  again,  we  have  the  birth, 
'  at  the  time  when  the  country  was  young  and  the 
earth  was  young,  floating  like  floating  oil,'  within 
the  country,  of  a  '  thing  in  appearance  like  unto  a 
reed-shoot  when  it  shows  itself  above  the  ground.' 
Sometimes,  again,  all  we  are  told  is  that,  '  when 
the  Heavens  and  the  Earth  were  in  a  state  of 
chaos,  there  was  at  the  very  outset  a  Divine  man' ; 
or,  '  when  the  Heavens  and  the  Earth  began,  there 
were  Deities  produced  together.'  Another  version, 
which  is  more  original,  says :  '  Before  the 
Heavens  and  the  Earth,  there  existed  something 
which  might  be  compared  to  a  cloud  floating 
on  the  sea,  and  having  no  means  of  support.  In 
the  midst  of  this  was  engendered  a  thing  re- 
sembling a  reed-shoot  springing  out  of  the  mud ; 
and  this  thing  was  immediately  metamorphosed 
into  human  form.'  A  last  variant  shows  us  once 
more  '  a  thing  produced  in  the  midst  of  the  Void, 
which  resembled  a  reed-shoot  and  changed  into  a 
god  ' ;  then  a  '  thing  produced  in  the  midst  of  the 
Void,  like  floating  oil,  from  which  a  god  was 
developed.'  After  this  we  see  unfolding  again  the 
series  of  the  Seven  Divine  Generations  (see  the 
Nihongi,  Shukai  ed.  i.  1-4;  W.  G.  Aston's  tr., 
Yokohama,  1896,  i.  1  ff.). 

All  these  texts  are  valuable  from  their  very 
incoherence,  which,  like  the  incoherence  of  the 
Hindu  myths  on  the  same  subject,  proves  their 
authenticity  and  affords  all  the  more  interest  from 
the  point  of  view  of  comparative  mythology.  In 
the  first  place,  indeed,  this  abundance  of  versions 
enables  us  to  trace  in  Japan  the  cosmogonic  myths 
of  many  other  races:  e.g.  the  idea  that  gods  and 
men  were  sprung  from  certain  plants — an  idea  that 
we  meet  with  from  the  time  of  the  ancient  Greeks^ 
who  believed  that  they  had  sprung  from  the  earth 
like  cabbages,  were  born  from  certain  trees,  or 
had  risen  out  of  a  marsh,  right  down  to  the 
Amazulu,  who  make  their  Unkumnkuln  come  from 
a  bed  of  reeds  or  even  from  a  reed-shoot  (which 
corresponds  exactly  with  the  Japanese  idea).  In 
the  second  place,  by  examining  these  most  ancient 
texts  in  relation  to  each  other,  we  can  distinguish, 
as  far  as  is  possible,  the  true  native  Japanese  con- 
ception from  the  Chinese  notions  added  thereto. 
The  idea  of  the  separation  of  the  Heavens  and  the 
Earth,  with  which  the  Nihongi  begins,  and  which 
also  exists  in  China  (myth  of  Pan-ku),  is  found 
again  in  India,  Greece  (Kronos  myth),  and  New 
Zealand  (Eangi  and  Papa),  and  consequently  it 
would  be  rash  to  affirm  a  simple  Chinese  imitation 
here.  But  the  whole  passage  on  the  In  asd  the 
Yd  (the  Yin  and  the  Yang,  the  passive  or  female 
principle,  and  the  active  or  male  principle,  which 
are  the  mainspring  of  Nature  in  Chinese  philosophy ) 
is  clearly  only  a  little  dissertation  of  foreign 
metaphysics,  preparing  the  way  for  the  native 
tradition  of  Izanagi  and  Izanami,  the  creators  of 
Japan.  As  regards  the  cosmic  ogg  which  appears 
next,  although  it  is  found  amoni;  a  great  num- 
ber of  peoples,  both  ancient  (Indians,  Egyptians, 
Phoenicians,  Greeks)  and  modern  (Kijians,  Finns, 
etc.),  and  may  therefore  have  been  one  of  the  spon- 
taneous hypotheses  which  struggled  for  mastery 
in  the  mind  of  the  primitive  Japanese,  it  seems 
more  probable  that  it  also  was  a  product  of 
the  same  Chinese  inspiration,  especially  when 
we  consider  the  faot  that  this  idea  of  the  egg  is 
posterior  to  the  indication  of  the  male  and  female 
principles,  and  that  It  does  not  harmonize  very 
well  with  the  imago  of  the  fish  employed  immedi- 
ately after.  It  is  only  at  this  point  ('  Hence  it  is 
said  .  .  .')  that  the  real  national  account,  agreeing 
with  that  of  the  Kojiki,  begins.     Thus  we  see  the 


164 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Japanese) 


leading  line  of  the  purely  Japanese  myth  disen- 
tangling itself,  viz.  the  essential  notion  of  a  float- 
ing earth,  from  which  springs  a  reed-shoot,  which 
In  turn  engenders  the  human  form.  And  in  this 
way  we  have,  along  with  the  origin  of  the  world, 
the  origin  of  man  himself :  the  cosmogony  ter- 
minates in  a  mysterious  theogony,  in  which  the 
Divine  and  human  elements  are  confused  in  an 
insensible  transition. 

At  this  stage  the  last  couple  born  in  the  Plain  of 
the  High  Heavens  are  commissioned  by  the  other 
gods  to  '  make,  consolidate,  and  give  birth  to  this 
drifting  land ' : 

'  Hereupon  all  the  Heavenly  Deities  commanded  the  two 
Deities,  His  Auguatneas  the  Male-Who-Invitea  and  Her  August- 
ness  the  Female-Who-Invites,  ordering  them  to  "  make,  consoli- 
date, and  give  hirth  to  this  drifting  land."  Granting  to  them  an 
heavenly  jewelled  spear,  they  thus  deigned  to  charge  them. 
So  the  two  Deities,  standing  upon  the  Floating  Bridge  of 
Heaven  (moBt  probably,  the  Hainhow),  pushed  down  the 
jewelled  spear  and  stirred  with  it,  whereupon,  when  they  had 
stirred  the  brine  till  it  went  curdle  curdle,  and  drew  the  spear 
up,  the  brine  that  dripped  down  from  the  end  of  the  spear  was 
piled  up  and  became  an  island.  This  is  the  Island  of  Onogoro 
(i.e.  Self-Condensed) '  (Kojiki,  19). 

Izanagi  and  Izanami  descend  from  Heaven  to 
this  island  and  celebrate  their  union.  They  give 
birth  first  to  a  weakly  child,  which  they  abandon 
in  a  reed-boat,  and  then  to  the  islet  of  Awa  (Foam), 
which  also  they  refuse  to  acknowledge.  But,  on 
being  told  by  the  celestial  gods  that,  if  '  these 
children  were  not  good,'  it  is  '  because  the  woman 
spoke  first '  in  the  marriage-ceremony,  they  resume 
their  work  of  creation  under  more  favourable  con- 
ditions, and  give  birth  first  to  the  island  of  Awaji 
(Foam-way),  and  then  to  the  other  islands  of  the 
archipelago.  After  this,  they  put  into  the  world 
in  the  same  manner  a  whole  tribe  of  Nature-gods. 
Here,  again,  we  observe  the  idea  of  evolution  so 
familiar  to  Japanese  thought. 

The  god  of  Fire,  Kagu-tsuehi,  Izanami's  last- 
born,  accidentally  scorches  his  mother  so  badly 
that  she  dies  in  a  terrible  fever.  Izanagi  in 
despair  drags  himself  round  about  the  body  groan- 
ing, and  from  his  tears  is  born  another  god.  He 
buries  his  wife  on  Mount  Hiba,  on  the  borders  of 
the  land  of  [zumo.  Then,  in  the  fury  of  his  grief, 
he  tears  the  matricide  to  pieces,  the  blood  and 
scattered  members  also  changing  into  new  deities. 
He  finally  descends  to  Hades  to  recover  his  wife, 
and  finds  himself  face  to  face  with  a  mass  of  putrid 
matter.  Horror-struck,  he  returns  to  the  light  of 
day,  and  proceeds  to  elaborate  ablutions  in  a  river 
of  Kyushu,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  the  unclcanness 
contracted  in  his  sojourn  with  darkness  and  death. 
Twelve  deities  are  at  this  time  born  from  his  stall", 
various  parts  of  his  clothing,  and  his  bracelets,  as 
he  throws  them  on  the  ground  ;  then  fourteen 
others  spring  from  the  various  processes  of  his 
ablutions,  among  these  being  three  illustrious 
deities  who  are  the  last  to  appear,  when  he  washes 
his  left  eye,  his  right  eye,  and  his  nose,  viz. 
Ama-terasu-oho-mi-kanii  (the  Heaven-Shining- 
Great-August-Deity),  Tsuki-yomi-no  kami  (the 
Moon-Night- Deity),  and  Take-hayn-susa-no-wo-no- 
mikoto  (His  Brave-Swift- Im petuous-M ale- August- 
ness).  To  these  three  deilies~-the  goddess  of  the 
Sun,  the  god  of  the  Moon,  and  (lie  god  of  the 
Ocean,  soon  transformed  into  the  god  of  the  Storm 
—  Izanagi  proceeds  to  give  the  investiture  of  the 
government  of  the  universe  : 

'At  this  time  His  Augustness  the  Male-Who-Invitce  greatly 
rejoiced,  saying:  "1,  begetting  child  after  child,  have  at  mi- 
Una!  begetting  gotten  three  illustrious  children.-"  At  once 
jinglingiy  taking  off  and  shaking  the  string  of  jewels  forming 
iiis  august  necklace,  lie  bestowed  iL  on  flu;  Heaven-Shining- 
Grcat-Augllst-Deity,  saying:  '-Do  Thine  Augu.slncss  rule  the 
Plain  of  High  Heaven."  With  this  charge  lie  bestowed  il  on  her. 
.  .  .  Next  hesaid  to  the  Moon-Niglil  ,  Deity:  "  Do  Thine  August- 
news  rule  the  Dominion  of  the  Night."  Thus  be  charged  him. 
Next  he  said  to  His  Hrave-N.wi!t.-lmpetunus  Male  A,iigustiiess  : 
"  Do  Thine  Augiistness  rule  the  Sea-L'lain  "  '  (K'vjiki,  fj*0). 

So,  then,  is  the  universe  organized  in  its  essen- 


tial elements.  It  still  remains,  however,  to  com- 
plete the  construction  of  the  earth.  This  is  the 
task,  after  the  death  of  Izanagi,  of  a  descendant 
of  Susa-no-wo  in  the  sixth  generation — the  god 
Oho-kuni-nushi  (Master-of-the-Great-Land,  i.e.  of 
Izumo),  who  is  the  hero  of  a  new  cycle  of  legends. 
He  is  assisted  in  his  work  first  by  a  dwarf  god,  a 
sort  of  magician,  from  foreign  parts,  and  then  by  a 
mysterious  spirit,  which  reveals  itself  as  one  of  the 
hero's  own  doubles.  One  might  be  tempted  to 
think  that  here  it  is  no  longer  a  question  of  the 
task  of  the  material  construction  of  the  world,  but 
rather  some  political  organization  of  the  country 
by  a  powerful  chief.  But  this  is  not  so,  as  is 
shown  by  the  following  curious  account  taken  by 
the  author  from  an  old  document  at  the  very  heart 
of  this  legendary  cycle,  the  Izumo  Fudoki  ('  Topo 
graphical  Description  of  Izumo,'  A.D.  733) : 

'  The  august  god  declared :  "  The  country  of  Izumo  .  .  .  ia 
Indeed  a  youthful  country  of  narrow  stuff.  The  original  country 
ia  still  very  little.  Therefore,  I  am  going  to  sew  a  new  piece  of 
land  to  it."  He  spoke  ;  and,  aa  he  looked  towards  the  cape  of 
Shiragi  (a  Korean  kingdom)  to  see  whether  there  was  not  an 
excess  of  land  there,  he  said  to  himself :  "There  is  an  excess  of 
laud";  and  with  a  mattock  he  hollowed  out  a  cleft  like  that 
between  a  young  maiden's  breasts  ;  he  separated  th§  part  with 
blows,  like  those  dealt  on  the  gills  of  a  large  fish  (to  kill  it) ;  and 
cut  it  away  .  .  .  ;  and,  fastening  round  it  a  thick  three-atrand 
rope,  he  drew  it  along,  balanced,  as  if  by  tauzura  (Pitcraria 
Thwibevjlana)  blackened  by  frost,  and  as  Bmootbly  as  a  boat  on 
a  river,  saying:  "Come,  Land!  Come, Land!"  The  piece  of  land 
thus  sewed  on  ia  to  be  found  between  the  extreme  boundary 
of  Kozu  and  the  promontory  of  Kizuki,  which  has  been  formed 
eight  times.  The  post  arranged  in  this  way  is  Mount  Sahime, 
on  the  boundary  between  the  country  of  Ihami  and  that  of 
Izumo.  Moreover,  the  rope  with  which  he  dragged'the  land 
aiong  ia  the  long  beach  of  Sono.  When  he  looked  towards  the 
country  of  Saki,  at  the  gates  of  the  North  (i.e.  in  the  North), 
to  see  whether  there  waa  not  an  excess  of  land  there,  he  said : 
"There  is  an  excess  of  land"  [as  above,  down  to  "Come, 
Land  !  "1.  The  land  thus  brought  and  sewed  on  ia  the  country 
of  Sada,  which  extends  from  the  very  borders  of  Taku  to  here. 
When  he  looked  towards  the  country  of  Sunami,  at  the  gates  of 
the  North,  to  see  whether  there  was  not  an  excess  of  land  there, 
he  said:  "There  ia  an  excess  of  land"  [once  more  the  same 
words,  ending  with  "Come,  Laud  !"].  The  land  thus  brought 
and  seweii  on  is  the  country  of  Kurauii,  extending  from  the 
borders  of  Taguhi  to  here.  When  he  looked  towards  Cape 
Tsutsu,  of  Koshi,  to  see  whether  there  was  not  an  excess  of 
land  there,  he  Baid  :  "There  is  an  excess  of  land"  [always  the 
same  phrase].  The  country  thus  brought  and  sewed  on  iB  Cape 
Miho.  The  rope  with  which  it  waa  brought  ia  the  island  of 
Yomi  (one  of  the  place-names  that  are  connected  with  the 
entrance  to  Hades,  situated  in  Izumo).  The  post  arranged  in 
this  way  ia  Mount  Uho-kami,  in  Hahaki.  "  Now  we  have 
llnished  bringing  land,"  he  said.  And.  as  he  drove  bis  august 
staff  into  the  ground,  in  the  wood  of  U-u,  he  cried:  "  O-we  ! " 
whence  the  name  O-u '  (Izuuui  Fudoki,  ed.  Ohira,  ISOti,  pp. 
4-6). 

This  'bringing  of  land'  (kuni-biki),  the  naive 
account  of  which  ends  with  an  equally  childish 
explanation  of  the  name  of  the  place,  is  a  striking 
illustration  of  the  material  character  of  the  task 
devolving  upon  Oho-kuni-nushi — the  finishing  of 
the  work  begun  by  the  creator-couple,  then  con- 
tinued by  Izanagi  on  his  being  widowed,  and 
finally  interrupted  by  Izanagi's  death.  Only  the 
method  is  different.  A  short  passage  in  the 
Nihomji  (ii.  "(ili)  shows  the  extent  to  which  this 
putting  together  of  the  country  seemed  a  natural 
work:  one  night,  in  A.D.  684,  a  noise  was  heard 
coining  from  I  he  east  like  the  lulling  of  drums; 
in  tin-  morning  if  was  seen  that  an  island  had 
suddenly  risen  out  of  the  waves:  the  conclusion 
was  that  the  ominous  noise  was  the  din  the  gods 
made  when  building  this  island  in  the  darkness. 
Without  leaving  Japan,  we  can  trace  the  same 
idea  of  building  in  an  Ainu  myth.  It  is  intended 
to  explain  why  the  west  coast  of  Ye/o  ends  in 
treacherous  rocks,  while  the  cast  slopes  down 
gently  to  the  sea.  The  explanation  i>  that  the 
island  was  built  by  a  Divine  couple,  and  the 
woman,  who  had  charge  of  the  west  shore, 
neglected  her  task  by  speaking  all  the  time. 

In  short,  apart  from  spontaneous  generation, 
which  is  freely  admitted 'for  the  primordial  gods, 
the  creation  of   the  world  can   he  explained   prill 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Japanese) 


165 


cipally  either  by  a  more  or  less  precise  normal 
generation  or  by  a  Divine  construction.  The  idea 
of  generation  is  the  one  that  dominates  the  Japanese 
myths,  and  is  seen  in  its  most  material  form  in  the 
story  of  Izanagi  and  Izanami.  Nothing  could  be 
more  natural  than  this  conception,  for  it  is  logical 
to  think  that  things,  just  as  organic  beings,  could 
not  form  themselves  without  connexion  of  male 
and  female.  Among  some  peoples,  the  primitive 
couple  are  placed  at  the  very  beginning  of  the 
evolution  :  e.g.  in  Nicaragua,  a  man  and  woman, 
Famagortad  and  Zipaltonal,  created  the  heavens, 
the  earth,  moon,  stars,  and  human  beings — the 
whole  world ;  in  Polynesia,  Tangaloa  and  O-te-papa 
are  the  parents  of  the  islands  and  their  inhabitants. 
We  have  the  same  idea  among  the  Japanese, 
except  that,  being  more  metaphysical,  and  wishing 
to  find  the  cause  of  the  first  couple,  they  imagined 
vague  terrestrial  deities  who  had  to  precede  the 
first  couple,  and  then  went  still  further  back  to 
far-off  deities,  some  of  whom  are  still  attached  to 
the  earth,  while  others  appeared  spontaneously  in 
Heaven.  As  to  the  idea  of  construction,  it  appears 
chiefly,  as  we  have  just  seen,  when  the  task  of 
perfecting  the  work  of  creation  comes  into  question. 
These  are  two  conceptions  which  are  likewise  found 
among  the  ancient  Greeks,  and  which  were  com- 
bined in  the  Pythagorean  cosmogony. 

We  now  pass  from  the  formation  of  the  world  to 
the  laws  controlling  it.  We  find  among  the  ancient 
Japanese  various  attempts  at  explanations,  which 
sometimes  even  form  a  rudimentary  cosmology. 
What  they  wanted  to  explain  first  of  all  was  the 
cause  of  the  great  physical  phenomena,  beginning 
with  the  phenomena  of  light,  which  are  the  most 
Btriking  of  all  to  the  primitive  man,  as  they  are  to 
the  child.  For  instance,  Why  do  the  sun  and 
moon  not  shine  at  the  same  time  ? — Because  the 

foddess  of  the  Sun,  enraged  by  a  crime  committed 
y  the  god  of  the  Moon,  determined  never  to  see 
him  again : 

•  Now  when  Ama-terasu-no-oho-kaml  was  already  In  Heaven, 
she  said :  "  I  hear  that  in  the  Central  country  of  reed-plains 
there  is  the  Deity  Uke-mocbi-no-kaml  (the  goddess  o!  Food}. 
Do  thoti,  Tsukl-yomi-no-mikoto,  go  and  wait  upon  her."  Tsuki- 
yomi-no-mikoto,  on  receiving  this  command,  descended  and 
went  to  the  place  where  Uke-mochi-no-kami  was.  Thereupon 
Uke-roochi-no-kamI  turned  her  head  towards  the  land,  and 
forthwith  from  her  mouth  there  came  boiled  rice :  she  faced 
the  sea,  and  again  there  came  from  her  mouth  things  broad  of 
fin  and  things  narrow  of  fin  {i.e.  fishes  both  great  and  small). 
She  faced  the  mountains,  and  again  there  came  from  her  mouth 
things  rough  of  hair  and  things  soft  of  hair  (i.e.  all  kinds  of 
game).  These  things  were  all  prepared  and  set  out  on  one 
hundred  tables  for  his  entertainment.  Then  Tsuki-yomi-no- 
mikoto  became  flushed  with  anger,  and  said  :  "  Filthy  I  Nasty  I 
That  thou  shouldst  dare  to  feed  me  with  things  disgorged  from 
thy  mouth."  So  he  drew  his  sword  and  slew  her,  and  then 
returned  and  made  bis  report,  relating  all  the  circumstances. 
Upon  this  Ama-terasu-no-oho-kami  was  exceedingly  angry,  and 
said :  "  Thou  art  a  wicked  Deity.  I  must  not  see  thee  face  to 
face."  80  they  were  separated  by  one  day  and  one  night,  and 
dwelt  apart'  (tli/tongi,  L  82). 

Similarly,  How  does  it  happen  that  the  brightness 
of  the  Sun  is  one  day  totally  obsenred  T — The  same 
Sun-goddess,  persecuted  by  her  terrible  brother, 
Susa-no-wo,  and  indignant  at  his  wickedness,  hides 
herself  in  a  celestial  cave ;  and,  when  the  other 
gods  make  her  come  out  by  magic  processes,  the 
world  is  lit  up  again  [Kojiki,  52-65).  In  the  same 
way,  again,  Why,  at  a  more  recent  time,  did  the 
heavens  remain  dark  for  whole  days  on  end? — 
Because  two  priests  were  buried  in  the  same  tomb  ; 
on  the  separation  of  their  coffins,  the  division  of 
night  from  day  re-appeared  (Nihongi,  i.  238). 

In  the  first  legend,  we  have  to  do  with  a  funda- 
mental law  of  the  universe ;  in  the  second,  with 
an  unusual  phenomenon  of  such  a  kind  as  to  strike 
the  imagination  for  a  time ;  in  the  third,  with  a 
far  less  important  occurrence  in  which  we  see 
hardly  anything  more  than  a  portent.  The  first 
mystery  is  explained  by  an  important  act  in  the 
drama   played   by  the   gods  j    the  second,    by  an 


analogous  incident,  in  which,  however,  human 
intervention  is  already  making  itself  more  evident; 
the  last,  as  the  result  of  a  simple  mistake  in  ritual. 
But  in  all  three  cases  one  and  the  same  psycho- 
logical process  appears — a  process  explaining  the 
normal  order  and  the  exceptional  disorders  of 
light  by  the  human  passions  of  the  Sun.  And  the 
story  of  the  other  gods  would  give  us  similar 
motives  for  all  the  physical  phenomena  which 
exercised  primitive  intelligence — from  the  stability 
of  the  solid  sky,  which  the  winds  hold  up  like 
pillars  (Ritual,  no.  iv.),  to  the  instability  of  the 
soil,  which  the  subterranean  god  shakes  with  earth- 
quakes (Nihongi,  ii.  124).  Nor  must  we  omit  to 
note  how  the  resentment  of  a  sea-princess  against 
a  terrestrial  god  is  offered  as  the  explanation  of 
the  fact  that  '  there  is  no  communication  between 
the  earth  and  the  sea'  (Nihongi,  i.  107). 

After  these  attempts  to  explain  the  greater 
aspects  of  Nature,  the  ancient  Japanese  turned 
their  attention  to  lesser  objects— stones,  plants, 
animals.  The  thing  which  most  impressed  them 
about  stone  was  the  spark  they  could  get  from  it, 
and  this  mysterious  property  the  myths  are  quick 
to  explain,  solving  at  the  same  time  the  same 
question  with  regard  to  the  fire-principle  concealed 
in  tree  and  plant.  When  a  flint  is  rubbed,  or  two 
pieces  of  wood  are  rubbed  together  for  a  time,  fire 
appears  j  it  must  therefore  be  concealed  in  these 
substances.  In  order  to  exist  thus  in  a  latent 
manner,  it  must  have  entered  these  substances. 
But  how?  It  is  here  that  the  hypotheses  differ 
more  or  less  according  to  the  various  mythologies. 

In  New  Zealand,  Maui  obtained  from  an  old  Divine  grand- 
mother, Mahu-Ika,  one  of  her  nails,  which  produced  fire  by 
friction :  only  he  extinguished  this  fire  at  once,  started  off  to 
renew  his  request,  and  continued  until  Mahu-Ika  had  to  part 
with  all  ber  nails  one  by  one  ;  finally,  she  became  enraged  and 
pursued  him  with  her  flames,  and  was  prevented  from  con- 


suming him  only  by  an  opportune  fall  of  ram  ;  fortunately  some 
sparks  got  lodged  in  certain  trees,  and  from  them  they  can  be 
brought  forth  again.    This  is  clearly  the  logical  evolution  of 


the  production  of  fire,  first  by  knocking  a  stone,  then  by  rubbing 
certain  hard  woods.  Alongside  of  this  Maori  Prometheus  we 
may  place  the  Prometheus  of  the  Thlinkets,  who  fills  the  same 
civilizing  r61e  on  the  north-west  coast  of  the  Pacific  :  the  hero 
Yehl,  in  the  shape  of  a  raven,  stole  the  heavenly  fire,  carrying 
off  a  burning  brand  in  his  mouth  ;  the  fire  fell  upon  stones  and 
pieces  of  wood,  and  it  is  from  these  that  it  can  be  extracted 
again  to-day.  The  same  idea  is  found  among  the  Eskimos, 
according  to  whom  the  rooks  contain  fire-spirits  which  are  often 
seen  In  the  form  of  will-o'-the-wisps ;  among  the  American 
Indians — eg.  the  Sioux  and  Chippeways — who  believe  that 
flints  are  thrown  down  by  thunderbolts ;  among  the  black  races 
of  Africa,  who  established  the  same  connexion  between  heavenly 
fire  and  stones  on  earth  ;  and  among  the  ancient  Hindus,  who 
supposed  that  there  were  Agnis,  apparently  descended  from 
Heaven,  in  stones,  plants,  and  trees,  just  as  they  knew  them 
to  be  present  in  the  whole  of  Nature,  in  man,  in  the  cloud,  and 
even  in  the  sea. 

It  is  interesting  to  find  this  wide-spread  myth  in 
Japan.  When  the  god  of  Fire  was  slain  by  his 
father,  his  blood  leapt  up  in  one  place  to  the  sky, 
and  there,  in  the  region  of  the  Milky  Way 
(Nihongi,  i.  23,  29),  it  seems  to  have  lit  up  certain 
stars  which,  like  Sirius,  appear  pale  to-day,  but 
which,  at  the  time  when  the  Japanese  myths  were 
elaborated,  certainly  shone  with  a  ruddy  glow  (cf. 
Hor.  Sat.  II.  v.  39;  Seneca,  Quctst.  Nat.  bk.  i.); 
in  another  place,  this  blood  flowed  over  the  ground, 
and  infused  the  fire-principle  into  plants  and  trees, 
stones  and  rocks.  One  variant  of  the  Nihongi 
(i.  29)  is  particularly  clear  on  this  point : 

'  At  this  time  the  blood  from  the  wounds  spurted  out  and 
Btained  the  rocks,  trees,  and  herbage.  This  is  the  reason  that 
herbs,  trees,  and  pebbles  naturally  contain  the  element  of 
fire.' 

These  myths,  touching  sometimes  upon  cos- 
mogony, sometimes  upon  cosmology,  but  always 
coming  from  the  same  desire  to  explain  the  most 
varied  phenomena,  had,  ot  course,  to  attempt  to 
account  for  all  the  strange  things  in  the  animal 
world.  For  example,  why  has  the  biche-de-mer 
(trepang)  a  peculiar  mouth  ?  Because  long  ago  its 
mouth  was  slit  as  a  Divine  punishment: 


166 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Japanese) 


'  Ame-no-uzume-no-ruikoto  (Her  Augustness  the  Heavenly- 
Alarming-Feiuale)  drove  together  all  the  things  broad  of  fin  and 
the  things  narrow  of  fin,  and  asked  thetu,  saying:  "Will  ye 
respectfully  serve  the  august  son  of  the  Heavenly  Deities?" 
upon  which  all  the  fishes  declared  that  they  would  respectfully 
serve  him.  Only  the  bt'che-tU-nwr  said  nothing.  Then  Her 
Augustness  the  Heavenly  -Alarming-Female  spoke  to  the  blche- 
de-mer.  saying  :  "  Ah  !  This  mouth  is  a  mouth  that  gives  no 
reply  I ''  and  slit  the  mouth  with  her  small  string-sword  So  at 
the  present  day  the  bicht-dt-mer  has  a  slit  mouth  '  (Kojiki,  139). 

In  the  same  way  the  Breton  legend  explains 
how  the  plaice,  for  making  a  grimace  at  the  Holy 
Virgin,  ever  after  had  a  crooked  mouth  j  and  an 
Oceanic  legend  tells  how  the  sole  refused  to  sing, 
and  was  trampled  upon  by  the  angered  fishes,  and 
was  flat  ever  after.  In  Japan  itself  a  popular  tale, 
which  is  not  in  the  sacred  books,  but  which  is 
nevertheless  undoubtedly  very  ancient,  tells  us 
that  the  reason  why  the  medusa  has  no  bones  to 
sustain  her  shapeless  substance  is  that,  for  being 
stupid  in  the  performance  of  a  task  entrusted  to 
her  by  the  god  of  the  Seas,  she  was  so  mauled  by 
blows  that  she  was  reduced  to  pulp.  In  ail  these 
stories,  as  in  that  of  the  Biblical  serpent  con- 
demned to  creep  for  ever  (Gn  3"),  the  punishment 
continues  in  the  descendants  of  the  afflicted  animal 
— a  very  natural  conclusion,  since  the  established 
form  of  the  animal  precisely  constitutes  the  raison 
cTHre  of  the  myth. 

We  find  myths  of  this  kind  to  an  even  greater 
extent  in  relation  to  man  himself,  his  physical 
nature,  and,  above  all,  his  death,  which  shocks 
his  instinct  of  preservation.  Like  all  primitive 
peoples,  the  ancient  Japanese  see  in  death  an 
abnormal  phenomenon.  Natural  death  does  not 
exist :  death  must  be  the  work  of  some  super- 
natural agent.  The  fatal  fever  of  Izanami  must 
be  a  manifestation  of  the  god  of  fire,  and  the  last 
illness  of  the  hero  Yamato-dake,  who  was  seized 
with  a  sudden  chill  in  an  icy  shower,  must  be  the 
effect  of  the  vengeance  of  the  god  of  the  mountain 
when  he  lost  his  way.  Speaking  in  a  more  general 
way,  just  as  the  majority  of  civilized  races  claim  a 
spiritual  immortality  which  they  deny  to  animals, 
so  primitive  man  liked  to  believe  that  physical 
immortality  would  have  distinguished  him  from 
all  other  beings,  if  death  had  not  been  introduced 
into  the  world  by  some  mistake  or  as  a  mysterious 
punishment.  This  conception  is  fonnd  equally 
among  Hebrews  and  Greeks,  Kafirs  and  Hottentots, 
Fijians,  New  Zealanders,  etc  The  punishment 
hypothesis  is  that  of  the  Shinto  myth  : 

'  Ama-Uu-hi-daka-hiko-ho-DO-ni-aigi-no-inikobo  (His  Aug-ust- 
ness  Heaven's-Sun-Height-Prince-Eice-ear-Ruddy-PIenty)  met 
a  beautiful  person  at  the  august  Cape  of  Kasa&a,  and  aaked  her 
whose  daughter  she  was.  She  replied,  saying :  "  I  am  a 
daughter  of  Oho-yama-tsu-mi.no-kami  (the  Deity  Great-Moan- 
taiu-PossessorX  and  my  name  is  the  Divine-Pnncesa-of-Ata, 
another  name  by  which  I  am  called  being  Ko-no-hana-saku- 
ya-hime  (the  Princess  bJcssoming-Krilliantly  ■-Like-the-Flowers- 
of  Uit-Treed)."  Again  he  aaked  :  "  Hast  tbou  any  brethren  ?  " 
She  replied,  saying  :  *'  There  is  my  elder  sister,  iha-naga-hlme 
(the  Princess  Long-,  is.  Enduring-,  as-the-Rocks).''  Than  he 
charged  her,  saying :  "  I  wish  to  make  thee  my  wife.  How 
will  this  be  t  "  She  replied,  saying :  "  I  am  not  able  to  say.  My 
father,  the  Deity  Great-Mountain-Possessor,  will  say."  So  he 
sent  a  request  to  her  father  the  Deity  Great-Mountain- Possessor, 
who,  greatly  delighted,  respectfully  sent  ber  off,  Joining  to 
her  her  elder  sister  Princess  Long-as-the-Rocks,  and  causing 
merchandise  to  be  carried  on  tables  holding  an  hundred.  So 
then,  owing  to  the  elder  sister  being  very  hideous.  His  August- 
ness  Prince  Rice-ear-Ruddy-Plenty  was  alarmed  at  the  sight  of 
her,  and  sent  her  back,  only  keeping  the  younger  sister  Princess 
Blossounag-BrillianUy-Like-the-Flowera-of-the-TTees,  whom  he 
wedded  for  one  night.  Then  the  Deity  Great-Mountain-Possessor 
was  covered  with  shame  at  Princess  Long-aa-the-Rocks  being 
eent  back,  and  sent  a  message,  Baying :  "  My  reason  for  respect- 
fully presenting  both  my  daughters  together  was  that,  by 
Bending  Princess  Long-as- the- Rocks,  the  august  offspring  of 
the  Heavenly  Deity,  though  the  snow  tall  and  the  wind  blow, 
might  live  eternally  immovable  like  unto  the  enduring  rocks, 
and  again  that,  by  sending  Princess  Blossoming-Bruliantiy- 
Like-the-Flowers-of-the-Trees,  they  might  live  flourishingly  like 
unto  the  flowering  of  the  blossoms  of  the  trees  :  to  ensure  this, 
I  offered  them.  But  owing  to  thy  thus  lending  back  Princess 
Long-as-the-Rocks,  and  keeping  only  Princess  Blossoming- 
Brilliantly-Like-the-Flowers-of-the- Trees,  the  august  offspring 
of  the  Heavenly  Deity  shall  be  but  as  frail  as  the  flowers  of 


the  trees."    So  it  is  for  this  reason  that,  down  to  the  present 

day,  the  august   lives  of   Their  Augustneaaes   the   Heavenly 
Sovereigns  are  not  long'  (jffo/iii,  140-142). 

This  curse  seems  at  first  sight  to  apply  only  to 
the  Imperial  line,  but  there  is  no  doubt  whatever 
that,  in  primitive  thought,  it  was  meant  to  explain 
why  all  men  are  mortal.  This  is  proved  by  the 
following  variant  of  the  Nihongi  (i.  84) : 

'  Iha-naga-hlme,  in  ber  shame  and  resentment,  spat  and 
wept.  She  said:  "The  race  of  visible  mankind  shall  change 
swiftly  like  the  flowers  of  the  trees,  and  shall  decay  and  paas 
away."    This  is  the  reason  why  the  life  of  man  is  so  short.' 

There  is  a  rather  striking  resemblance  to  be  seen 
between  this  myth  and  a  legend  of  the  North 
American  Indians :  the  Pebble  and  the  Bush  were 
with  child  at  the  same  time,  but  the  children  of 
the '  Bush  were  bom  first ;  that  is  why  man  is 
subject  to  death,  lha-naga-hiine  also  recalls  in  a 
wonderful  manner  O-te-papa,  the  rock-wife  at 
Tangaloa,  in  Polynesian  myth. 

Besides  death,  life  also  has  its  place,  especially 
among  a  light-hearted  people  like  the  ancient 
Japanese,  whom  even  Buddhism  itself  could  not 
subdue.  They  sought  to  probe  to  the  origin  of 
death,  but  they  understood  none  the  less  that 
this  was  not  the  only  problem  of  their  des- 
tiny. They  admired  life  with  its  fertility;  and 
another  important  myth  proceeds  to  tell  how,  in 
spite  of  the  calls  of  the  region  of  darkness, 
humanity  develops  and  triumphs  in  the  immor- 
tality of  its  perpetual  rejuvenation.  Izanagi,  the 
father  of  men  and  islands,  fled  from  the  subter- 
ranean kingdom,  pursued  by  the  Furies,  the 
Thunderbolts,  and  all  the  horrible  army  of  Hades. 

'  Last  of  all  his  younger  sister  Her  Augustness  the  Priocesa- 
Who-Invites  came  out  herself  in  pursuit.  So  he  drew  a 
thousand-draught  rock,  and  blocked  op  the  Even  Pass  of  Hade* 
(Tomo-tsu-hira-saka,  forming  the  frontier-line  between  Hade* 
and  the  World  of  the  Living),  and  placed  the  rock  in  toe 
middle ;  and  they  stood  opposite  to  one  another  and  exchanged 
leave-takings;  and  Her  Augustness  the  Female- Who- Invites 
said  :  "  My  lovely  elder  brother,  Thine  Augustness  1  If  thou  do 
like  this,  I  will  in  one  day  strangle  to  death  a  thousand  of  the 
folks  of  thy  land."  Then  His  Augustness  the  alale-Who- 
1  n vites  replied :  "  My  lovely  younger  sister,  Thine  Augustness ! 
If  thou  do  this,  1  will  in  one  day  set  up  a  thousand  and  five 
hundred  parturition-houses  (the  separata  hat  for  a  woman 
about  to  be  delivered).    In  this  manner  each  day  a  thousand 

Cple  would  surely  die,  and  each  day  a  tjHWBanfl  and  fin 
idred  people  would  surely  be  born." ' 

Izanami  is  thus  conquered ;  Izanagi  prevails ; 
and  in  commemoration  of  his  victory  the  Japanese 
thereafter  called  themselves  Ame-no-masu-hito-ra, 
'  the  heavenly  surplus-population. '_ 

All  these  stories — the  common  aim  of  which  was 
to  answer  the  innumerable  questions  of  primitive 
curiosity  regarding  the  affairs  of  Nature  and  of 
man,  of  physical  phenomena  and  living  beings,  the 
origin  of  the  world  and  its  present  appearance,  in 
short,  regarding  everything  that  afterwards  con- 
stituted the  complicated  object  of  the  sciences 
— provide  us  with  a  mythology  in  which  cosmogony 
holds  the  place  of  honour,  and  cosmology  is  only 
beginning  to  appear.  The  ancient  Japanese  felt 
themselves  enveloped  in  mysteries  which  they 
would  have  been  glad  to  solve ;  but,  as  the  limited 
extent  of  their  knowledge  set  strict  bounds  to 
their  attempts,  they  soon  tired  of  looking  for  these 
causes ;  they  accordingly  stopped  short  with  in- 
fantile explanations  which  seemed  satisfying  to 
them,  but  which  could  scarcely  approach  a  deep 
investigation  of  the  laws  that  underlie  the  sensible 
world.  It  was  only  under  Chinese  influence  that 
this  type  of  investigation  developed,  and  that  the 
ancient  mythology  became  complicated  with  ab- 
stract principles,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  typical 
example  of  the  story  of  the  creation  in  the  Nuwngi. 
This  desire  to  harmonize  national  tradition  with 
the  philosophical  ideas  of  China,  or  even  of  Europe, 
was  bound  to  end  in  the  most  ludicrous  theories  in 
the  hands  of  the  .modern  Shintoist  theologians. 
Thus,  e.g. ,  they  attempted  to  explain  the  origin  of 
the  stars,  sometimes  by  investigating  whether  they 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Jewish) 


1«7 


might  have  sprung  from  the  excess  of  material 
stirred  up  ana  scattered  into  space  by  Izanagi's 
spear,  sometimes  by  supposing  that  the  shell  of 
the  primitive  egg  got  broken,  and  that  the  frag- 
ments were  caught  up  by  the  rotatory  motion  of 
the  sun  and  thus  drawn  into  the  astronomical 
whirl  (Hirata,  Koshiden,  1812,  ii.  36,  38).  But 
these  apologist  fantasies  are  clearly  foreign  to  the 
simple  cosmogony  and  embryonic  cosmology  of  the 
ancient  Japanese. 

LmntATunB. — W,  G.  Aston,  Nihongi  (Tran$.  of  the  Japan 
Society,  Supp.  L),  London,  1896,  and  Shinto,  the  Way  of  the 
Gods,  London,  1906 ;  B.  H.  Chamberlain,  The  Eojiki  (TASJ, 
vol.  x.,  Supp.),  reprinted,  Tokyo,  1906;  K.  Florenx,  Wihongi, 
ZeitaHer  der  Gotter  (Supp.  to  Mittheilungen  der  deutschen 
OeseUech.fiir  JVotur-  unrt  I <  olkerkunde  Ostasiene),  Tokyo,  1901 ; 
W.  E.  Griffis,  The  Religions  of  Japan,  New  York,  1896; 
M.  Rcvon,  Lt  ShinnUAtme,  Paris,  1907,  and  Anthologie  de 
la  littlratrtre  japonaitt,  Paris,  1910 ;  Ernest  Satow,  The 
Revival  of  pun  Shinto  {TASJ,  voL  iii.,  appendix),  reprinted, 

Tokyo,  1883.  Michel  Revon. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY(Jewish). 
— Speaking  generally,  it  may  be  said  that  specu- 
lation as  to  the  origin  of  the  world  was  not 
encouraged  during  the  early  Rabbinic  period. 
Between  Biblical  times  and  the  era  of  the  Jewish 
philosophers,  cosmology  in  the  modern  sense  can 
scarcely  be  said  to  have  flourished,  and  ultimately 
it  is  so  closely  connected  with  philosophy  itself 
that  separate  treatment  is  scarcely  possible.  The 
well-known  verses  of  Ben  Sira  (Sir  3"1-), 

*  Search  not  the  things  that  are  too  wonderful  (or  the* ; 
And  seek  not  that  which  is  hid  from  thee. 

.  thou  hast  no  business  with  the  secret  things' 

(tr.  O.  TaylorX 
are  quoted  in  Talmud  and  Midrash,  and  are  applied 
to  this  form  of  investigation  (see  JQR  iii.[1890-l] 
690 ;  Bah  IJagiga,  13a,  etc.  ;  Midr.  Bereshith 
Rabba,  ch.  viii.  ;  cf.  also  parallel  passages  quoted 
in  JQR  iii.  698).  It  may  also  be  said  that,  in  most 
cases  where  cosmological  elements  are  found  in 
Rabbinic  sources,  the  scientific  character  is  sub- 
ordinated to  the  religious.  Leaving  the  Biblical 
records,  the  following  are  the  main  groups  of 
writings,  during  this  intermediate  period,  which 
deal  with  the  question  of  creation  :  (1)  references 
in  Talmud  and  Midrash  (cited  above) ;  (2)  special 
references  to  the  '  Logos '  as  distinct  from  other 
means  of  creation ;  (3)  Cabbalistic  writings  and 
references,  such  as  the  Sepher  Yisira  and  the 
Zohar,  etc. 

With  regard  to  the  first  class,  the  verses  of  Ben 
Sira  which  have  been  cited  are  typical  of  the 
disapproval  displayed  by  the  Rabbis  towards  cos- 
mological study.  With  them  should  be  carefully 
compared  the  Gemara  in  the  first  Mishna  of  the 
second  pereq  of  IJagiga  (114).  This  passage  is  the 
locus  ctassicus,  though  scarcely  less  noteworthy 
are  the  beginnings  of  Genesis  Rabba  and  Tanhuma. 
It  is  evident  that  the  dislike  of  the  Rabbis  to  the 
study  of  cosmology  was  due  to  two  causes — the 
fact  that  the  material  and  method  appeared  to  be 
Greek  in  origin,  and  the  fact  that  such  study 
sometimes  led  to  atheism  and  apostasy.  In  support 
of  this  the  famous  story  of  Elisha  b.  Abuya  (Aher) 
(cf.  ffagiga,  156  foot,  etc.)  may  be  recalled.  The 
study  of  Greek  mythology  and  philosophy  leads 
to  Hellenization,  and  must  be  discouraged.1  It 
would  seem,  however,  that  the  ardour  for  these 
studies  grew,  in  spite  of  checks  from  the  Rabbis  ; 
and  the  latter  seem  to  have  abandoned  a  policy  of 
resistance  and  adopted  a  new  attitude — that  the 
creation  of  the  world  must  be  shown  to  have 
depended  entirely  on  the  Divine  power.  Hence 
the  early  chapters  of  Bereshith  Rabba  are  de- 
voted to  proving  that  God,  and  God  alone,  is  the 
Creator.     There  are  clear  traces  of  replies,  on  the 

I Cf.  IJagiga,  lib,  D;#J  li^urf  ntllpf  •  ■  ■  V?lh  ]% 
'  Men  are  not  to  expound  .  .  .  the  work"  of  Creation  with  two 
lee.  disciples),'  tr.  Streane. 


part  of  the  Rabbis  who  are  there  quoted,  to 
opponents,  who  seem  to  have  been  Gnostics  and 
dualists,  by  whom  the  Biblical  scheme  of  creation  is 
rejected ;  in  some  cases  it  would  seem  as  though 
we  were  face  to  face  with  Pantheistic  ideas,  but 
that  would  be  difficult  to  establish.  The  creatio  ex 
nihilo  is  frequently  affirmed,  but  this  question,  as 
well  as  that  of  the  '  eternity  of  matter,  belongs  to 
Jewish  philosophy  rather  than  to  cosmology ;  they 
cannot  be  considered  without  reference  to  later 
writers,  e.g.  Maimonides  and  Judah  HallSvi. 

Eaoh  of  the  three  great  Semitic  religions  has 
had  to  face  the  problem  of  harmonizing  a  doctrine 
of  pre-existence,  in  some  shape  or  form,  with  a 
concurrent  belief  in  the  creatio  ex  nihilo.  In  the 
case  of  Christianity  it  is  the  Arian  controversy. 
Among  the  Muslims,  the  question  of  the  Qur'an — 
whether  it  was  created  or  eternal — was  one  of  the 
points  on  which  the  Mu'tazilite  heresy  turned. 
But  in  Jndaism,  at  least  in  the  early  period,  the 
question  of  the  pre-existence  of  the  Torah  was 
never  a  burning  one.  It  was  the  application  to 
the  Torah  of  Pr  8M  that  gave  rise  to  this  belief. 
Perhaps  Gnostic  ideas  were  originally  responsible, 
but  at  all  events  it  is  certain  that  Jewish  theology, 
whether  private  or  official,  was  not  seriously  dis- 
turbed. Had  this  been  the  case,  the  doctrine 
must  have  been  pushed  to  its  logical  conclusion, 
and  it  would  have  been  alleged  that  the  Torah 
had  some  share  in  the  actual  work  of  creation 
(contrast  B.  Rabba,  ed.  Theodor,  p.  6).  But,  while 
the  Bereshith  Rabba  compares  the  Torah  to  the 
parchment  plans  of  an  architect,  the  functions  of 
the  Divine  Creator  are  not  only  never  usurped, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  the  supremacy  of  the  God- 
head in  the  work  of  creation  is  emphatically 
stated.  From  this  it  may  be  inferred  that  the 
belief  was  never  reduced  to  definite  form.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  the  passages  in  the  Midrash. 
Their  purpose  is  homily,  not  science  ;  their  concern 
is  to  praise  the  works  of  the  Deity  rather  than  to 
investigate  the  ways  of  Nature  or  to  explain  the 
riddle  of  the  universe.  This  is  clear  from  the 
methods  employed.  A  verse  of  Scripture  is  regu- 
larly interpreted  by  natural  phenomena,  and  the 
functions  of  heaven  and  earth  are  derived  philo- 
logically  from  the  Bible.  Had  the  objective  of  the 
Rabbis  been  practical,  a  different  plan  would  have 
been  adopted.  As  it  is,  arguments  post  factum 
are  quite  legitimate  and  in  keeping  with  the 
purpose. 

To  imagine  that  the  Rabbis  would  have  been 
content  with  such  methods  of  argument,  or  would 
have  considered  them  adequate,  is  impossible  for 
two  reasons.  (1)  This  would  overlook  the  true 
character  of  Haggada  (i.e.  allegoric  homily) ;  and 
(2)  it  would  imply  ignorance  of  the  scientific  capa- 
bilities of  the  Rabbis.  It  is  only  necessary  to  turn 
to  astronomy,  in  order  to  see  what  they  could 
achieve.  Hence  it  is  desirable,  for  cosniologieal 
purposes,  to  pass  over  Bereshith  Rabba  and  most 
Talmudical  passages.  It  is  also  fair  to  exclude  the 
famous  controversy  of  Hillel  and  Shanimai  as  to 
the  relative  precedence  of  Heaven  and  Earth '  iu 
this  category  (IJag.  12a),  because  their  objective 
also  was  religion,  not  science.  On  the  whole, 
the  dogma  of  the  creatio  ex  nihilo  was  accepted, 
though  not  without  reservations  and  even  opposi- 
tion. In  2  Mac  T*  the  author  speaks  actually 
of  a  creation  ^{  out  tvroiv,  but  Wis  ll"  prefers 
the  theory  of  re-arrangcmcnt  of  existing  matter 
rather  than  creation.'  I'liilo  alligorizos :  God 
gave  the  form,  not  the  matter ;  though,  of  course, 
ultimately  He  is  the  Creator.     According  to  the 

1  This  was  one  of  the  questions  asked  by  Alexander  of 
Maoedoo  (see  Tamid,  82a,  and  II   Rabba,  ed.  Theodor,  p.  IS). 

*  j)  warro6vvan6i  trov  x"P  eriaaaa.  yhv  k6o>\xov  «{  atiif*t>ov 
ft«. 


iPte 


168       COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Mexican  and  Bouth  American) 


beginning  of  de  Opific.  Mundi,  the  world  was 
created  for  the  rnin ;  and  with  the  rrjw  all  natural 
phenomena  must  be  in  harmony.  This  is  perhaps 
an  extension  of  the  Midrashic  thought  that  the 
world  was  created  .Tjinrt  no'3  (B.  Babba,  ed. 
Theodor,  p.  9,  line  9).  Philo's  Logos  does  not 
perform  quite  the  same  functions  as  the  Mishnic 
or  Targumic  Logos  or  Memra — if  Buch  a  term  may 
be  used.  In  Aboth  (v.  1)  we  read  that  the  world 
was  created  by  ten  nhcss,  or  sayings ;  that  is  to' 
say,  iptf'!,  '  And  God  said,'  occurs  ten  times  with 
reference  to  the  Creation.  Now  this  theory  has 
developed  from  what  may  briefly  and  conveniently 
be  described  as  the  Targumic  attitude — the  ob- 
jection to  anthropomorphism.  The  Maamar,  or 
Memra,  to  some  extent  intervenes  and  becomes 
the  mouthpiece  or  instrument  of  creation.  This 
gives  rise  to  theories  of  Mediators,  whether  in 
form  of  Demiurge  or  of  Metatron,  which  are,  how- 
ever, often  expressly  repudiated :  e.g.  Bereshith 
Babba  (ed.  Theodor,  p.  5,  1.  10,  and  p.  27,  1.-4), 
where  the  date  of  the  creation  of  angels  is  dis- 
cussed. The  question  is  in  itself  unimportant. 
Stress  is  laid  on  the  fact  that  they  could  not  have 
been  created  on  the  firBt  day,  lest  any  share  in  the 
work  of  the  creation  should  be  ascribed  to  them. 
Metatron  (p-era  8p6voi>  or  metatorX)  is  mentioned 
by  name  frequently  (cf.  Sanhedrin,  386,  which  is 
a  warning  against  ascribing  Divine  powers  to 
Metatron).  It  may  be  doubted  whether  it  was  ever 
believed  that  the  Maamaroth  actually  exercised 
functions ;  it  is  more  probable  that  the  idea  was 
invented  to  account  for  the  text,  and  repudiated 
when  felt  to  be  dangerous.  At  all  events  it  cannot 
be  included  in  true  cosmology. 

In  considering  the  l£abbaJa,  which,  of  course, 
belongs  really  to  a  later  period,  the  same  air  of 
unreality  is  experienced.  In  the  Sepher  Yifira 
and  similar  works,  permutations  and  arrange- 
ments of  numbers  and  letters  are  the  basis  of 
argument,  and  this  is  typical  of  the  whole 
mystical  outlook  of  the  l£abbala.  A  close  re- 
lation is  postulated  between  the  real  and  the 
unseen,  between  the  written  word  and  the 
abstract  idea  of  which  it  is  the  symbol ;  hence  it 
was  believed  to  be  possible  to  extract  the  spiritual 
from  the  physical  form,  i.e.  from  the  word  in 
which  it  was  confined.  The  deductions  are,  of 
course,  ingenious,  but  they  are  reached  by  literary 
or  quasi-philological  arguments.  It  is  obvious 
that  either  scientific  investigation  or  carefully 
selected  tradition  must  form  the  foundation  of 
cosmology,  and  it  cannot  definitely  be  stated  to 
what  practical  extent  the  authors  of  Cabbalistic 
reasoning  desired  their  results  to  be  taken.  The 
truth  is  that  between  the  period  of  the  Bible  and 
that  of  the  mediaeval  Jewish  philosophers  there  is 
no  real  cosmology.  The  Scnptures  supplied  the 
needs  of  all  seekers,  until  Judaism  was  brought 
face  to  face  with  Aristotelianism  and  Neo- 
Piatonism.  Hitherto  cosmology  was  not  taken 
seriously  in  the  scientific  sense,  it  was  mere 
homily  ;  but  henceforward  it  became  an  integral 
portion  of  the  system  of  each  thinker.  It  is 
impossible  to  discuss  the  theories  of  t:w  t£,  creatio 
ex  ni/iilo,  in  mediaeval  times,  apart  from  the  rest 
of  the  philosophy  which  was  established  upon  it. 

Litbraturk.—  There  is  a  critical  edition  ol  the  Midr&ah 
Bereshith  Jiabba  by  J.  Theodor  (Berlin,  1903).  For  those 
unacquainted  with  Hebrew  the  Talmudic  references  may  be 
studied  in  M.  L.  Rodkinson's  tr.  (flao*7a=vol.  vi.l  New  York, 
1889,  or  preferably  in  L.  Ooldschmidfs  Germ.  tr.  (Berlin, 
1897 fl.).  The  treatise  Ifagiga  was  translated  (with  notes,  etc.) 
by  A  VV.  Streane,  Cambridge,  1891.  Some  idea  of  the  Midrash 
may  be  obtained  from  S.  Rapaport's  Talss  and  Maxims  from 
the  Midrash  (London,  1907);  see  also  JE,  artt.  'Cosmology,' 

Cre"lon-  Hehbbrt  Loewe. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY(Mexioan 
and  South  American). — I.  Mexico. — On  the  origin 


and  constitution  of  tha  universe  the  ancient  Mexi- 
cans developed  a  number  of  complex  and,  in  part, 
discordant  myths.  In  the  earliest  times,  accord- 
ing to  Sahagun's  version,  the  gods  assembled  in 
Teotihuacan  for  the  purpose  of  debating  who  was 
to  govern  the  world  and  who  was  to  be  the  bub, 
for  at  that  time  there  was  no  daylight.  A  deity 
named  Tecuciztecatl  ottered  to  illuminate  the 
world.  His  compeers  asked  who  would  act  as  his 
mate,  bnt  none  of  then,  could  summon  sufficient 
courage,  each  offering  excuses.  At  last  they 
delegated  the  task  to  Nanauatzin,  who  was 
afflicted  with  the  pox  (buboso),  and  he  cheerfully 
acquiesced.  The  luminaries-elect  then  began  a 
four  days'  penance.  A  fire  was  built,  and  both 
made  their  offerings.  After  the  four  days  had 
elapsed,  Tecuciztecatl  and  Nanauatzin  received 
their  ceremonial  vestments.  The  gods  ranged 
themselves  in  two  rows,  one  on  either  side  of  the 
fire,  and  first  called  upon  Tecuciztecatl  to  leap 
into  the  flames.  The  deity  approached  the  blaze, 
but  recoiled  from  its  excessive  heat.  Four  times 
he  made  the  attempt,  and  four  times  he  abandoned 
it.  Then  the  gods  ordered  Nanauatzin  to  try. 
He  mustered  up  all  his  courage,  closed  bis  eyes, 
and  leapt  into  the  flames.  Immediately  a  crack- 
ling sound  was  heard.  Then  Tecuciztecatl  followed 
suit.  When  the  two  deities  had  been  completely 
consumed  by  the  fire,  the  other  gods  seated  them- 
selves, expecting  to  see  them  rise.  After  a  long 
period  of  waiting,  the  sky  assumed  a  reddish 
aspect,  and  there  appeared  the  light  of  dawn. 
The  gods  fell  on  their  knees  and  turned  hither  and 
thither,  not  knowing  from  what  quarter  the  sun 
would  come,  for  the  light  of  dawn  was  nhinipg 
everywhere.  At  last  it  rose  from  the  east,  sway- 
ing to  and  fro,  and  rla-rrling  the  onlookers  with 
its  brilliancy.  Presently  the  moon  rose  from  the 
same  cardinal  direction.  They  appeared  in  the 
same  order  in  which  the  two  gudu  had  entered  the 
fire.  At  firBt  sun  and  moon  were  equally  brilliant. 
The  other  gods  debated  whether  this  was  proper, 
and  decided  in  the  negative.  Then  one  of  them 
began  to  run,  and  struck  Tecudztecatl's  face  with 
a  hare.  Straightway  it  turned  darker,  lost  its 
splendour,  and  assumed  the  present  appearance  of 
the  moon.  Though  the  sun  and  the  moon  had 
thus  been  created,  they  were  still  stationary.  The 
gods  asked  one  another :  '  How  could  we  live 
under  these  conditions?  The  sun  does  not  move. 
Are  we  to  spend  all  our  life  among  unworthy 
mortals  J  Let  us  all  die,  so  that  our  death  may 
animate  these  luminaries.'  The  wind  then  offered 
to  kill  the  gods,  and  did  so.  Still  the  sun  did  not 
begin  to  move.  At  last  the  wind  blew  so  violently 
that  he  forced  the  sun  to  commence  its  journey, 
but  the  moon  remained  stationary  for  a  while. 
Finally,  it  also  began  to  move.  Thus,  sun  and 
moon  became  separated  and  assumed  the  habit 
of  rising  at  different  hours  of  the  day.  Had 
Tecuciztecatl  leapt  into  the  fire  before  Nanauatzin, 
he  would  have  been  the  sun.1 

A  somewhat  similar  version  has  been  recorded 
by  Mendieta.  Citlalatonac  and  Citlalicue  appear 
as  the  primeval  deities.  The  latter  bore  a  flint, 
which  her  enraged  sons  hurled  to  the  earth.  From 
the  shattered  stone  there  developed  1600  gods,  who 
asked  their  mother  for  permission  to  create  man- 
kind. Citlalicue  referred  them  to  Mictlantecutii, 
who  was  to  furnish  them  with  the  bones  and  ashes 
of  the  deceased.  The  messenger  of  the  gods 
received  the  required  objects  from  the  lord  of  the 
under  world,  but,  lest  Mictlantecutii  might  recall 
his  gift,  he  fled  in  haste,  stumbled,  and  broke  the 
bones.  He  quickly  gathered  the  fragments  and 
presented  them  to  the  gods,  who  enclosed  them  in 

1  Sahagmi,  Hisi.  gen.  des  Ghosts  de  la  HowelU-h 'spoons  (Paris, 
1880),  178-482. 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Mexican  and  South  American)        i«9 


•  bag  and  bespattered  them  with  their  own  blood. 
On  the  fourth  day  there  issued  forth  a  boy,  and  on 
the  eighth  a  girl-  These  became  the  ancestors  of 
mankind.  The  sun  was  not  yet  in  existence. 
The  gods  assembled  in  Teotihuacan  and  announced 
that  whosoever  would  jump  into  the  tire  should 
be  transformed  into  the  sun.  One  man  ventured 
to  leap  in,  and  the  spectators  anxiously  watched 
far  the  rising  of  the  sun.  In  the  meantime  they  laid 
a  wager  that  the  animals  present  would  not  be 
able  to  guess  the  place  whence  the  sun  would  rise, 
and,  as  the  animals  actually  failed  to  do  so,  they 
were  all  sacrificed.  At  last  the  sun  appeared,  but 
did  not  move.  Angered  by  his  immovability,  Citli 
('  Hare ')  let  fly  three  arrows  at  him,  wounding 
him  twice.  The  enraged  solar  deity  hurled  one 
arrow  back  at  the  enemy,  piercing  his  forehead. 
The  gods  then  recognized  their  relative  inferiority, 
and  consented  to  be  sacrificed.  Xolotl  tore  out 
their  hearts,  and  himself  committed  suicide. 
Appeased  by  this  sacrifice,  the  sun  began  his  daily 
course.1 

A  rather  different  tale  is  narrated  in  the  Zumar- 
raga  Codex.  There  dwelt  originally  in  the 
thirteenth  heaven  a  Divine  couple,  Tonacatecutli 
and  Tonacacihuatl,  who  begat  four  sons,  via. 
Camaxtli,  Yayauquitezcatlipuca,  Quetzalcoatl, 
and  Hmtzilopochtli.  After  600  years  of  inactivity 
these  four  created  the  world.  Quetzalcoatl  and 
Huitzilopochtli  created  fire  and  a  half-sun,  the 
first  pair  of  human  beings,  the  days,  the  denizens 
of  infernal  regions,  the  heavens  beyond  the 
thirteenth,  and  finally  water  and  the  monster 
Cipactli.  In  the  further  creation  the  entire 
quartet  participated.  They  formed  the  sea-deities 
Tlalocatecutli  and  Chalchiuhtlicue,  and  then 
created  out  of  Cipactli  the  earth  and  her  deity 
Tlaltecutli.  The  first  human  pair,  Oxomoco  and 
Cipactonal,  begat  a  son  who  married  a  woman 
shaped  oat  of  Xochiquetzars  hair.  As  the  half- 
sun  gave  forth  but  little  light,  it  was  decided  to 
perfect  it,  and  accordingly  Tezcatlipoca  trans- 
formed himself  into  a  real  sun.  Then  the  giants 
were  created.  After  Tezcatlipoca  had  shone  for 
676  years  (13  cycles),  Quetzalcoatl  hurled  him  into 
the  water,  himself  assuming  solar  functions,  while 
his  enemy  transformed  himself  into  a  tiger  which 
devoured  the  giant  race.  In  commemoration  of 
this  event,  there  developed  the  constellation  of 
Charles's  Wain,  which  represents  Tezcatlipoca 
descending  into  the  ocean.  After  Quetzalcoatfhad 
served  for  an  equal  space  of  time,  his  rival  hurled 
him  headlong  with  a  blow  of  his  paws,  causing  a 
tempest  that  destroyed  the  majority  of  human 
beings.  Then  Tlalocatecutli  reigned  as  the  sun 
for  364  years  (7  cycles),  but  Quetzalcoatl  drove  him 
away  by  means  of  a  torrent  of  fire  and  installed 
Chalchiuhtlicue  in  his  place.  She  served  in  this 
position  for  312  years  (6  cycles),  then  a  deluge 
occurred,  mankind  were  changed  into  fish,  and  the 
heavens  fell  down.  The  divine  quartet  next 
opened  a  passage  under  ground,  and  created  four 
men.  By  the  joint  efforts  of  all  of  these  the  sky 
was  raised  to  its  present  altitude.  As  a  token  of 
his  gratitude,  Tonacatecutli  transferred  to  his  sons 
the  sovereignty  of  the  stars,  they  settled  in  the 
heavens,  and  by  their  migrations  they  are  smooth- 
ing the  path  known  as  the  Milky  Way.  Two 
years  later  Tezcatlipoca  first  produced  fire  by 
friction,  and,  several  years  later  still,  a  new  race 
of  man  was  created.  After  the  lapse  of  live  years, 
the  gods  decreed  the  formation  of  a  new  sun. 
War  was  waged  in  order  to  secure  a  sufficient 
number  of  human  sacrifices  for  the  sun,  then  tho 

tods  fasted,  drew  blood  from  their  own  bodies,  and 
eaped  up  firewood.     Into  the  blaze  Quetzalcoatl 

1  (J.  Brahl,  Did  CuUliTVolher  Alt-Amtrikat  (New  York, 
1875-1387),  400. 


cast  his  own  son,  who  thus  became  the  sun. 
Tlalocatecutli,  however,  threw  hi?  son  into  the 
ashes,  thus  making  him  rise  as  the  moon,  which 
continually  follows  the  sun  without  ever  over- 
taking it.  Both  luminaries  wander  through  the 
air  without  ever  reaching  the  heavens.  The  Codex 
Vaticanus  mentions  the  bi-sexual  deity  Ometecntli 
as  the  creator  of  the  universe.  He  creates  the 
first  human  pair,  Oxomoco  and  Cipactonal.  These 
beget  Tonacatecutli,  to  whom  the  later  stages  of 
creation  are  due. ' 

The  modern  Tarahumare  believe  that  the  present 
world  was  preceded  by  many  others,  all  of  which 
were  destroyed.  In  these  earlier  periods  all  the 
watercourses  flowed  eastward,  but  now  there  are 
also  some  rivers  that  empty  into  the  Pacific 
Originally,  the  world  was  but  a  waste  of  sand, 
which  the  bears  put  into  shape.  The  rocks  were 
at  first  soft  and  small,  but  they  grew  to  be  large 
and  hard.  The  people  grew  up  from  the  soil,  and 
the  earth  was  quite  level.  At  that  time  men  lived 
to  be  only  one  year  old,  dying  like  the  flowers. 
According  to  another  tradition,  they  came  from 
heaven  with  corn  and  potatoes  in  their  ears,  and 
were  led  by  Tata  Dios — a  solar  character  desig- 
nated by  a  Christian  name — into  the  mountains, 
the  middle  of  the  world.  In  the  beginning,  the 
Morning  Star  was  the  only  heavenly  body  to 
illuminate  the  earth,  and  the  600  Indians  then  in 
existence  were  greatly  irritated  by  the  surround- 
ing darkness,  for  they  were  unable  to  do  their 
work  and  were  continually  stumbling  about.  The 
sun  and  the  moon  were  then  children,  dressed  in 
palm-leaf  garments  and  dwelling  in  a  house 
thatched  with  palm  leaves.  The  Indians  at  last 
dipped  small  crosses  into  tesvino  (native  beer)  and 
with  them  touched  the  sun  and  the  moon  on  the 
chest,  on  the  head,  and  on  the  back.  Then  they 
began  to  shine.3 

2.  Maya. — The  creation-myth  of  the  ancient 
Quiche  is  the  fullest  cosmogony  of  the  Maya  stock 
now  accessible  to  us.  In  the  beginning  there  were 
heaven  and  water,  but  everything  was  stagnant 
and  dark.  Gucumatz,  Tepeu,  and  Hnrakan  held 
a  council  and  created  the  world,  forming  moon- 
tains,  plains,  and  rivers.  First  there  appeared 
the  vegetable,  and  later  the  animal,  kingdom. 
But  the  animals  were  unable  to  call  by  name  or 
greet  their  creators,  and  were  accordingly  con- 
demned to  be  killed  and  eaten.  Next  the  gods 
created  men  ont  of  clay ;  but,  as  this  material 
lacked  vitality,  it  dissolved  in  the  water.  Then 
the  deities  invoked  the  aid  of  Xpiyacoa  and 
Xmucane,  and  created  a  man  out  of  the  wood  of 
one  tree  and  a  woman  from  the  sap  of  another. 
Both  were  able  to  move  about  and  propagate  their 
kind,  but  they  lacked  intelligence  and  uved  like 
the  brute  creation.  Accordingly  the  gods  sent 
showers  of  pitch  which  caused  a  flood,  and  wil"1 
animals  which  destroyed  the  race.  From  the  few 
survivors  are  descended  the  small  monkeys  dwell- 
ing in  the  forests.  At  last  there  were  created  four 
perfect  men  out  of  yellow  and  white  maize :  Balam 
Quitze,  Balam  Agab,  Mahucutah,  and  Iquibalam. 
These  were  intelligent,  and  were  able  to  perceive 
things  far  and  near  by  the  light  of  the  morning 
star,  and  to  penetrate  the  most  recondite  matters. 
Rejoicing  in  their  powers,  they  thanked  their 
creators.  The  latter,  however,  became  envious  of 
their  creatures  and  blew  a  cloud  over  their  eyes, 
so  that  they  were  able  to  see  only  what  was  near. 
While  the  men  were  asleep,  the  gods  created  four 
women  for  them.  The  race  multiplied,  but,  as 
they  lacked  patron  deities,  they  moved  to  Tulan 
Zuiva,  where  they  acquired  the  necessary  divinities. 

»  Brdhl,  op.  cit.  398-401 

a  Lumholts,  Unknown  Mexico  (Now  York,  1902,  London,  1908), 
I.  296-2»S. 


■■ 


'HvshK.fi 


HO       OOBMOQONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Mexican  and  South  Amerioan) 


Tohil,  one  of  these  tutelury  pods,  gave  lire  to  the 
people,  but  it  wa«  extinguished  by  ruin  und  hail, 
and  Tohil  then  created  it  anew  by  stamping  hie 
feet.  Owing  to  the  suffering  undergone  by  the 
people  in  Tulan,  they  abandoned  the  place  under 
Tohil'B  guidance,  and,  after  long-continued  migra- 
tions, reached  Mt.  Hanavitz.  There  sun,  moon, 
and  starB  were  called  into  being,  though  they  did 
not  then  shine  as  brightly  as  they  do  now.  The 
origin  of  these  heavenly  bodies,  however,  is  dif- 
ferently accounted  for  in  the  myth  of  Hunahpu  and 
Xbalanque,  the  miraculously  born  twin  heroes  of 
Quiche  folklore.  In  order  to  avenge  their  father's 
death,  the  brothers  descend  to  the  infernal  realm 
of  Xibalba,  and  slay  their  parent's  murderers. 
They  cause  their  father  and  his  brother  to  rise  as 
the  sun  and  moon  respectively,  while  400  youths 
who  had  been  killed  by  the  Xibalba  monarch  s  son 
are  transferred  to  the  sky  as  stare.1 

The  Mm'b  proper  of  the  present  day  believe  that 
the  world  is  in  the  fourth  period  of  its  existence. 
In  the  first  era  there  lived  the  Saiyamwinkoob 
('  Adjusters'),  the  mythical  dwarfish  aborigines  of 
Yucatan,  who  are  credited  with  the  construction 
of  the  ruins  before  the  appearance  of  the  sun.  As 
soon  as  the  sun  appeared,  these  people  turned  to 
BLone.  Figures  found  in  the  temples  of  Ghiehan 
Itza  and  other  archaeological  sites  are  supposed  to 
represent  the  Saiyainwinkooh.  After  a  deluge, 
another  race,  the  '  Offenders,'  came  into  being,  but 
again  a  flood  destroyed  the  greater  part  of  the 
world,  and  the  Masehnalli,  or  modern  Maya,  rose 
to  power.  Another  deluge  occurred  and  ushered 
in  the  present  period,  during  which  a  mixture 
of  all  the  previous  inhabitants  of  Yucatan  took 
place.  The  present  natives  of  Yucatan  distinguish 
•even  heavens,  each  of  which  has  a  hole  in  the 
oentre,  one  directly  above  the  other.  A  giant  tree 
(Bumbux  ceiba)  sends  its  branches  through  these 
seven  openingB,  and  by  means  of  it  the  spirits  of 
the  dead  clamber  up  to  their  final  place  of  repose- 
One  version  substitutes  a  ladder  of  vines  for  the 
tree.  The  Great  Jjioa  of  the  white  man  is  believed 
to  reside  in  the  uppermost  heaven,  while  the  lower 
heavens  are  peopled  by  the  older  deities  of  the 
natives,  now  degraded  to  the  rank  of  subordinate 
spirits.  Below  the  earth  there  is  an  under  world. 
The  spirits  of  the  dead  first  descend  to  this  region 
for  a  short  space  of  time,  but  soon  begin  their 
ascent  to  the  upper  worlds.  Men  who  have  died 
in  war  and  women  who  have  died  in  childbirth  are 
absolved  from  the  obligation  to  visit  the  under 
world,  and  commence  their  ascent  without  delay.* 

3.  Chibrha — The  Chibcha  philosophers  postu- 
lated as  the  original  substance  chiminigagua — light 
enclosed  in  some  undefined  envelope.  When  the 
light  freed  itself  from  this  covering,  it  created 
black  birds  which  flew  through  the  world,  emitting 
radiant  air  from  their  beaks.  Later  it  created  all 
living  things  save  men.  Mankind  traced  their 
descent  from  a  woman  named  Bachue  (or  Fuza- 
ehogue)  and  a  boy,  both  of  whom  issued  from  a 
lagoon  in  the  vicinity  of  Tunja.  On  reaching 
puberty,  the  boy  married  his  companion,  and  their 
numerous  progeny  soon  peopled  the  entire  country. 
According  to  another  myth,  mankind  was  created 
by  the  caciques  of  Sogamozo  and  Ramiriqui — men 
out  of  yellow  earth,  and  women  out  of  hollow 
plant-stems.  As  darkness  reigned  over  the  earth, 
the  cacique  of  Sogamozo  bade  his  nephew,  Rami- 
riqui, ascend  to  the  sky  and  illuminate  the  world. 
Nevertheless,  the  night  remained  dark.  Accord- 
ingly the  carique  transformed  himself  into  the 
moon.     An  interesting  cosmological  concept  was 

1  Bra»eur  de  Bourbourg,  Popoi  Tut  (Pun,  1861),  1-SL 
167-193  ;  Bnlhl,  op.  dL  447  f. 

5  A  M.  Tozzer,  A  Comparative  Studv  oT  the  Mayat  and 
Lmeandojtes  (New  York  aud  London,  1907),  153^156. 


connected  with  the  myth  of  Chihchachum.  This 
deity,  angered  by  the  inhabitant*  of  Bogota,  liaa 
afflicted  them  with  an  inundation  of  the  Sopi  ant 
Tibito  rivers.  The  Indians  prayed  to  Beclnxa, 
who  put  a  atop  to  the  devastation  of  the  country 
and  punished  Chibohaclium  by  ordering  him  to 
support  the  earth,  which  hitherto  had  rested  on 
wooden  props.  Earthquakes  originated  whenever 
the  tired  Atlas  shifted  his  burden  from  one  shoulder 
to  the  other.1 

4.  Peru. — A  number  of  essentially  different 
Peruvian  cosmogonies  are  lecbfiiftd  in  the  earlier 
writings.  According  to  one  legend.  G&M,  *  bone- 
less son  of  the  sun  and  the  moon,  created  the  vt'STH 
and  man,  levelled  mountains,  and  raised  valleys  by 
his  supernatural  powers.  He  is  said  to  have  come 
from  the  north.  J.  von  Tschudi  regards  him  as 
the  deity  of  the  Chimu,  the  natives  of  the  north- 
western coast  .district.  Con  became  displeased 
with  the  dwellers  of  the  coast,  and  converted  the 
region  into  a  desert,  though  be  mitigated  this 
punishment  by  allowing  soaaxivers  to  flow  through 
the  land  so  that  the  people  might  slake  their  thirst, 
and  also  provided  bis  creatures  with  wild  herbs  and 
fruits.  After  him  came  Paclia-'jamac,  ^nothsrson  of 
the  sun  and  the  moon,  and  -Oan  disappeared,  Padha- 
camac  transformed  onto  birds,  apes,  pumas,  and 
other  animals  the  human  race  called  into  being  by 
bis  brother.  He  then  created  the  Jndiaiw  of  bis- 
torical  times,  giving  them  for  their  occupation  the 
cultivation  of  fields  and  the  growing  of  fruit, 
Tnrruel's  fuller  account  Delates  thai  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  world  i^achacamac  created  a  man  sjid 
a  woman,  without,  however,  supplying  them  wifin 
food.  The  man  starved,  but  the  woman  prayed  to 
the  sun  for  relief,  and  the  dairy  descended,  ■com- 
forted her,  and  impregnated  her  with  bis  rays,  so 
that  she  gave  birth  to  a  son  four  days  later. 
Pachaoamac,  however,  was  angered  at  the  thought 
that  she  bad  supplicated  fr™  father  rather  than 
>ifmnBlft  destroyed  the  infant.,  cut  him  in  pieces, 
and  sowed  the  dismembered  parts  of  the  child's 
body.  From  the  teeth  grew  corn,  from  the  bone* 
yuccas,  and  from  the  flesh  all  the  other  traits  and 
vegetables.  Thus,  the  ludisTiB  wert  indebted  to 
Pachacamac  for  their  food.  The  slain  child's 
mother,  however,  clamoured  for  revenge.  The 
sun  again  took  pity  on  her,  and  created  sut.thpr 
son,  Vichama,  out  of  the  murdered  infant's  umbili- 
cal cord.  When  grown  to  maturity,  Vichama  set 
out  to  journey  all  over  the  world.  In  the  mean- 
time Pachaoamac  killed  his  mother  end  caused 
birds  of  prey  to  devour  ber  body,  except  the  hair 
and  bones,  which  he  left  near  the  shore.  Then  be 
created  men  and  women,  and  appointed  chiefs  to 
rule  over  them.  When  Vichama  learned  of  bis 
mother's  death,  he  restored  her  to  life  from  ber 
concealed  hair  and  bones ;  then  he  set  out  to 
avenge  her  destruction.  Pachacamac  threw  him- 
self into  the  sea  where  afterwards  stood  the  temple 
and  city  named  after  him.  Vichama  devastated 
the  fields,  and  implored  the  sun  to  turn  the  people 
of  Vegueta  into  stone,  because,  be  alleged,  they 
had  participated  in  his  mothers  murder.  Thus,  ail 
Paehacamac's  creatures  were  transformed  into 
stones.  Repenting  of  their  deed,  the  sun  and 
Vichama  transferred  the  former  chiefs  and  nobles 
to  the  coast,  setting  them  up  there  as  kuacat  to  bs 
worshipped  in  the  future.  Then  Vichama  ini  p'.ored 
his  father  to  create  a  new  race.  The  sun  gave  him 
eggs  of  gold,  silver,  and  copper,  from  which  there 
developed  the  chiefs,  their  wives,  and  the  common 
herd,  respectively.  Still  another  legend  derives 
mankind  from  two  male  and  two  female  stars  sent 
down  to  earth  by  Pachacamac* 

1  Brfihl,  op.  at.  toll.,  45S. 

>  1'tJe,  Pachaoamac  (Philadelphia,  1903),  «9l  ;  Brohl,  op.«at 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Mexioan  and  South  American)        171 


On  the  shores  of  Lake  Titicaca  there  developed 
variants  of  another  myth.  Before  the  reiga  of  the 
Incas,  the  natives  believed,  there  was  no  sun,  and 
their  ancestors  prayed  to  the  gods  for  light. 
Suddenly  the  sun  rose  radiant  from  the  island  of 
Titicaca.  At  the  same  time  there  appeared  from 
the  south  a  white  man  of  slim  figure,  who  levelled 
the  mountains  and  caused  springs  to  gush  forth 
from  the  rocks.  Hence  he  was  regarded  as  the 
aut  lior  of  all  things,  the  creator  of  the  sun,  man- 
kind, and  the  brute  creation.  He  travelled  north- 
ward, and  never  retraced  his  steps.  In  the  course 
of  his  journey  he  admonished  the  Indians  to  live 
in  peace.  The  name  by  which  he  was  commonly 
known  was  Ticiviracocha.  Some  time  after  his 
departure  there  appeared  another  man  who  cured 
the  sick  and  wrought  miracles.  The  inhabitants 
of  Pueblo  Cacha,  however,  rose  against  him,  and 
were  about  to  Btone  him  to  death  ;  but  he  merely 
raised  his  hands,  and  flames  darted  from  the  Bky, 
threatening  to  consume  his  assailants.  Taking 
pity  on  the  terrified  Indians,  he  extinguished  the 
tire,  leaving  only  the  burnt  rocks  as  evidence  of  his 
power.  He  then  wandered  to  the  coast,  spread  his 
cloak  over  the  waves,  and  vanished  from  sight. 
The  name  of  this  second  wonder-worker  was  Vira- 
eocha.  For  a  more  substantial  creation-tale  we 
are  indebted  to  Betanzos.  Long  ago,  according  to 
his  narrative,  there  rose  from  a  lake  Con  Tici 
Viracocha,  who  created  heaven  and  earth  and 
mankind,  but  did  not  supply  them  with  light. 
Offended  by  man's  ingratitude,  he  transformed  the 
race  into  stones.  He  again  rose  out  of  the  lake 
with  several  companions,  created  the  sun  in  Tiahu- 
anaco,  and  later  the  moon  and  the  stars.  Next, 
he  re-peopled  the  earth  in  the  following  way  :  for 
every  province  he  fashioned  a  number  of  stone 
images ;  then  he  sent  all  but  two  of  his  com- 
panions towards  the  east,  where  they  called  into 
being  such  people  as  their  master  had  indicated  in 
his  stone  effigies ;  finally,  he  dispatched,  with 
similar  powers,  the  two  men  that  had  remained 
with  him,  one  to  Condesuyo,  and  the  other  to 
Andesuyo,  while  he  himself  wandered  to  Cuzco, 
creating  human  beings  as  he  passed  along.  In 
Pueblo  Cacha  he  was  attacked  by  the  newly 
created  Indians,  but  reduced  them  to  submission, 
as  in  the  version  already  quoted.  In  Cuzco  he  also 
created  a  tribe,  and  gave  to  the  place  its  name. 
When  he  arrived  at  the  seashore,  he  was  joined  by 
his  associates,  and  they  all  walked  across  the 
sea  as  though  it  were  solid  earth.  The  full  name 
given  to  this  creator  is  Con  Tici  Viracocha  Pacha- 
ya-chachic,  while  his  assistants  figure  as  'vira- 
cochas '  generically.  In  Molina's  version,  the  two 
viracochas  that  remained  with  their  master  after 
the  others  had  set  out  on  their  mission  are  called 
Ymaymana  Viracocha,  and  Tocapo  Viracocha.  The 
former  was  credited  with  having  named  trees  and 
plants,  and  with  having  instructed  the  Indians  as 
to  their  nutritive  and  medicinal  virtues.  Tocapo, 
on  the  other  hand,  named  the  rivers,  and  taught 
the  people  about  the  fruits  and  flowers.  Accord- 
ing to  the  same  variant  of  the  myth,  the  sun,  while 
rising  from  the  Island  of  Titicaca  in  human  shape, 
addressed  the  ancestors  of  the  Incas,  promising 
them  that  their  descendants  would  rule  the  land 
and  subject  many  tribes.1 

5.  Primitive  tribes— The  Arawak  of  Guiana  say 
that,  before  the  existence  of  mankind,  a  being 
broke  off  twigs  and  pieces  of  bark  from  a  silk- 
cotton  tree  and  threw  them  broadcast  around  him. 
Some  turned  into  birds  ;  others  fell  into  the  water 
and  became  fish ;  still  others  fell  on  land  and 
became  beasts,  reptiles,  men,  and  women.  The 
Warrau  myth  begins  with  a  period  when  the 
ancestors  of  the  Indians  lived  in  the  sky.     There 

1  Briibl,  op.  sit.  464-172. 


Okonorote',  a  great  hunter,  once  pursued  a  bird  for 
many  days.  At  length  he  was  able  to  shoot  it,  but 
his  quarry  fell  into  a  deep  pit  and  was  lost  to  sight. 
Okonorote',  however,  saw  daylight  in  the  pit,  and 
soon  discovered  a  land  down  below,  inhabited  by 
many  quadrupeds.  He  hung  a  long  piece  of  bush- 
rope  down  towards  the  earth,  and  climbed  down. 
After  a  successful  chase,  he  returned  home  with 
some  venison.  The  Warrau  relished  the  food  so 
much  that  they  decided  to  emigrate  to  the  earth. 
After  many  of  them  had  climbed  down,  a  woman 
of  large  proportions  got  stuck  in  the  opening,  and, 
though  her  fellow-tribesmen  attempted  to  extricate 
her,  it  was  found  impossible.  Accordingly,  those 
Warran  who  were  already  on  the  earth  were 
obliged  to  remain  in  their  new  place  of  residence, 
while  those  who  were  still  in  the  sky-land  could  not 
but  stay  in  the  upper  regions.  The  same  story,  with 
trifling  modifications,  is  told  by  the  Carib  Indians.1 

The  Bakairi,  a  Cai  ib  tribe  living  on  the  affluents 
of  the  upper  Xingu  river,  regard  the  sun  as  a 
large  ball  made  of  the  feathers  of  the  red  macaw 
and  the  toucan,  and  the  moon  as  a  corresponding 
ball  of  the  tail  feathers  of  the  Cassicus.  The  sun 
is  covered  at  night  with  a  large  pot,  which  is 
removed  at  daybreak.  During  the  rainy  season  it 
is  carried  by  a  snail,  during  the  dry  season  by  the 
fast-flying  humming-bird.  The  waning  of  the 
moon  is  due  to  the  successive  appearance  of  a 
lizard,  an  ordinary  armadillo,  and  a  giant  arma- 
dillo, the  last  of  which  completely  covers  the  feather- 
ball.  Corresponding  explanations  are  offered  for 
solar  and  lunar  eclipses.  Orion  is  a  frame  for  dry- 
ing manioc,  the  larger  stars  form  doorpost  knobs, 
and  Sirius  constitutes  a  large  crosB-beam  supporting 
the  frame  on  the  side.  The  Pleiades  are  simply  a 
pile  of  flour-grains.  The  firmament  shows  merely 
a  duplication  of  terrestrial  affairs  :  the  Indians  find 
there  manioc,  cultivated  soil,  forests,  etc.  The 
Milky  Way  is  a  huge  tomtom,  near  which  the  two 
culture-heroes,  Keri  and  Kame,  performed  their 
deeds.  Other  heavenly  phenomena  are  regarded 
as  a  jaguar,  ant-eater,  vulture,  etc. 

The  place  of  a  genuine  cosmogony  is  taken  by  a  number  of 
myths,  accounting  not  so  much  for  the  ultimate  origin  as  for  the 
more  or  less  miraculous  arrangement  and  regulation  of  observed 
phenomena  through  the  power  of  the  twin  culture-heroes,  Keri 
and  Kame.  Practically  everything  now  existing  in  the  universe 
is  believed  to  have  existed  from  the  very  beginning  :  there  were 
even  some  Bakairi  tribesmen  and  members  of  other  tribes.  Con- 
ditions, however,  represented  a  sort  of  topsy-turvydom  as  com- 
pared with  the  present  cosmos.  In  the  beginning  the  earth  was 
the  sky.  Earth  and  sky  were  in  close  proximity,  so  that  it  was 
possible  to  walk  to  and  fro.  Keri  bade  the  sky  shift  its  position, 
for  his  people  were  dying  ;  but  the  sky  refused  to  do  so.  Then 
Keri  decided  to  depart.  Accordingly,  he  and  all  his  tribe  went 
to  the  earth,  and  the  sky  rose  to  its  present  height.  The  sun 
was  In  the  possession  of  the  Urubu  vulture ;  when  the  bird  was 
away,  darkness  reigned  supreme.  Owing  to  this  darkness,  the 
tapir  fell  into  a  pit  belonging  to  the  Urubu.  Keri  saw  him  and 
entered  one  of  his  front  feet ;  while  Kame,  who  had  entered  a 
little  yellow  singing-bird,  was  to  Inform  his  brother  of  everything 
that  was  going  on.  When  the  vulture  swooped  down  on  his 
prey,  Ken  Belzed  him  and,  on  pain  of  death,  ordered  him  to 
Burrender  the  sun.  The  Urubu  dispatched  his  brother  to  bring 
the  sun,  but  his  messenger  only  came  back  with  the  dawn.  Sent 
back  again,  the  vulture^  brother  offered  Keri  the  moon,  but  the 
hero  persisted  in  his  demand  until  the  sun  was  presented  to 
him.  Then  he  released  the  Urubu.  The  sun  was  shining  con- 
tinually, and  Keri  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  it,  though 
finally  he  covered  it  with  a  large  pot,  which  was  simply  removed 
to  make  daylight  Thus,  the  latter-day  distinction  of  day  and 
night  was  first  introduced.  The  moon  was  given  to  Kame. 
Another  quasi-coamogonic  tale  accounts  for  the  origin  of  the 
Paranatlnga  and  Ronuro-Kulisehu  rivers.  Keri  and  Kame  were 
Bent  for  water.  They  found  three  pots  with  water,  but  broke 
two  of  them,  so  that  the  water  flowed  down,  forming  the  water- 
courses in  question. 

The  remaining  origin-tales  of  the  Bakairi,  though  for  the 
greater  part  belonging  to  the  same  cycle,  are  not  cosmo^'onic  at 
all,  but  merely  narrate  the  heroes'  exploits  in  acquiring  fire, 
manioc,  tobacco,  the  hammock,  and  other  necessaries  of  life  for 
the  benefit  of  mankind.9 

1  E.  F.  Im  Thurn,  Among  the  Indians  of  Guiana  (London, 
1883),  376  f. 

"K.  von  den  Stelnen,  Unler  dtn  Saturvolkern  Ztntral 
Brarilitnt  (Berlin,  1894),  35?  388. 


:•;*?.; 


^*~i  -  . 


172        COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Mexican  and  South  American) 


The  Paressi,  though  members  of  the  Nu-Arawak 
family,  possess  a  number  of  cosmic  notions  akin 
to  those  of  the  Bakairi.  They  also  believe  the  sun 
to  be  composed  of  red  macaw  feathers,  which  are 
hidden  in  a  gourd  at  night  and  uncovered  by  their 
owner  at  daybreak.  The  moon  consists  of  yellow 
'  mntung '  feathers.  The  full  moon  begins  to  wane 
when  a  thin  spider  appears  on  its  edge,  and  it  is 
successively  covered  by  four  armadillos,  the  last 
being  the  giant  armadillo,  Dasypus  gigas.  The 
galaxy  is  dotted  with  countless  yellow  fruits,  and 
of  the  stars  many  are  recognized  as  an  ostrich, 
jaguar,  or  some  other  animal.  In  the  beginning 
there  was  a  woman  named  MaisS.  Neither  earth 
nor  water  was  in  existence,  and  there  was  no  light. 
She  took  a  piece  of  wood  and  introduced  it  into  her 
body,  from  which  there  then  issued  forth  the  Rio 
Cuyaba.  Its  muddy  stream  was  soon  followed  by 
the  limpid  waters  of  the  Rio  ParessL  Maiso  then 
placed  land  in  the  stream,  and  thus  made  the 
earth.  Maiso'  also  gave  birth  to  many  quasi- 
human  beings  of  stone,  first  of  all  being  Darnka- 
vaitere,  who  married  Uarahiulu.  This  couple 
procreated  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  all  the  otner 
celestial  beings,  and  assigned  to  each  its  place  in 
the  firmament.  Next,  Darukavaitere  begat  parrots 
and  snakes,  until  Maiso  made  his  wife  conceive 
Uazale,  the  ancestor  of  the  Paressi  and  the  first 
really  human  being.1 

Of  the  Weltanschauung  of  the  Bororo  we  have, 
unfortunately,  but  a  meagre  sketch.  Like  the 
Bakairi  and  Paressi,  they  regard  the  sun  and  moon 
as  bunches  of  macaw  feathers.  Mankind  are  be- 
lieved to  dwell  on  a  large  island  in  a  river.  The 
sun  and  moon,  or  their  owners,  are  on  one  side  and 
pass  through  the  river  ;  when  they  meet,  the  moon 
passes  by  and  becomes  the  new  moon.  The  Plei- 
ades are  the  blossoms  of  a  tree,  Orion  is  looked 
upon  as  a  tortoise,  and  single  stars  are  generally 
regarded  as  sand-fleas,  Venus,  for  example,  being 
characterized  as  '  the  large  sand-flea.'  The  rainbow 
is  supposed  to  be  a  large  shamanistic  water-snake. 
A  meteor  that  appeared  during  the  second  Ger- 
man Xingn  expedition  was  regarded  as  the  soul 
of  a  shaman  bent  on  afflicting  some  Bororo  with 
dysentery.* 

The  cosmogonic  notions  of  the  Jibaro  of  Ecuador 
are  insufficiently  known.  According  to  one  tale, 
the  world  was  fashioned  by  a  great  spirit  who 
amused  himself  with  manufacturing  clay  objects. 
He  constructed  a  large  blue  vessel,  and  placed  it 
where  the  sky  is  nowadays  seen. 

A  more  detailed  account  is  given  of  the  deluge.  A  member  of 
the  Murato  sub-tribe  waa  lining  in  a  lagoon.  A  little  crocodile 
■wallowed  his  hook,  and  was  killed  by  the  Indian.  The  mother 
of  the  crocodiles  wu  so  incensed  at  this  deed  that  she  struck 
the  water  with  her  tail,  and  flooded  all  the  country  bordering 
on  the  lagoon.  All  the  Indians  perished,  save  a  single  indi vid uaJ 
who  climbed  a  pivai  pa'™,  where  he  stayed  many  days  in  utter 
darkness.  From  time  to  time  he  dropped  a  pizax  fruit,  but  be 
invariably  heard  it  strike  water.  One  day,  however,  the  fruit 
appeared  to  strike  the  earth.  The  Murato  climbed  down,  built 
alodge,  began  to  till  the  soil,  and  planted  a  piece  of  flesh  from 
his  own  body.  From  this  there  grew  up  a  woman,  whom  he 
married.  A  deluge-myth  derived  from  the  Caflari,  but  also 
attributed  by  Suarea  to  the  Jibaro,  records  the  escape  of  two 
brothers,  who  fled  from  the  flood  to  the  top  of  a  mountain,  which 
continued  rising  with  the  elevation  of  the  waters.  After  the 
flood  the  two  Indians  went  in  Guest  of  food,  and  on  their  return 
were  astonished  to  find  some  dishes  already  prepared  in  the  hut 
they  had  constructed.  One  of  the  brothers  hid  himself  in  order 
to  fathom  the  mystery,  and  discovered  two  parrot-women,  who 
set  themselves  to  preparing  the  meaL  Suddenly  rushing  from 
hia  hiding-place,  he  seized  one  of  the  bird-women  and  married 
her.  The  couple  had  three  sons  and  three  daughters,  who  be- 
came the  ancestors  of  the  Jibaro.* 

The  Carayri  of  the  Araguaya  River  believe  that 
their  ancestor,  Kaboi,  and  his  people  once  lived  in 
the  under  world,  where  the  sun  shone   when  the 
earth  was  dark,  and  vice  versa..     Hearing  the  call 
of  a  bird,  Kaboi  decided  to  follow  it.     He  got  to 
1  Von  den  Steinen,  op.  cii.  435-139. 
»  It.  513-615. 
»  Rivet,  Ltt  Indimt  jibaroi  (Paris.  1903),  91  f. 


an  opening  leading  to  the  earth,  but,  while  hi* 
companions  succeeded  in  passing  through  it,  he 
himself  proved  too  large  and  was  able  to  get  only 
his  head  above  ground.  The  other  Indians  gathered 
many  kinds  of  fruit,  also  honey  and  bees,  as  well 
as  dead  and  dry  wood,  and  brought  their  finds  to 
the  chief.  Kaboi  told  them  that,  while  the  country 
seemed  to  be  beautiful  and  fertile,  its  inhabitants, 
as  indicated  by  the  dry  wood,  could  not  live  to  the 
old  age  that  fell  to  the  lot  of  their  own  people,  for 
in  the  under  world  the  IndianB  attained  a  very 
great  age,  and  died  only  when  they  were  too  old  to 
move  any  part  of  their  body.  In  spite  of  thi» 
warning,  the  people  preferred  to  stay  above  ground. 
Accordingly,  while  their  fellow-beingB  in  the  lower 
regions  are  still  in  the  prime  of  life,  the  descendant* 
of  Kaboi's  companions  are  destined  to  die.  At  an 
apparently  later  period,  two  powerful  beings, 
Tenira  and  Sokroa,  hurled  ail  the  Indians  into  a 
blazing  fire  and  then  destroyed  each  other  in  a 
trial  or  strength.  Only  two  dwarf  parrots  and  two 
belated  youths,  returning  from  the  hunt  after  the 
destruction  of  their  fellow-tribesmen,  escaped. 
When  the  young  men  set  out  on  the  next  day 
to  hunt,  they  heard  the  pounding  of  mortars,  and 
on  their  return  discovered  that  their  meals  had 
been  prepared  by  unknown  hands.  This  was 
repeated  on  the  next  day.  On  the  third  day  they 
discovered  that  the  food  had  been  cooked  by  the 
two  parrot-women,  married  them,  and  thus  be- 
came the  ancestors  of  the  modern  Caraya. 

Another  tale  recounts  the  destruction  of  the  Tnrfi*n«  by  a 
flood.  The  Caraya  were  out  hunting  and  drove  their  game  into 
a  pit.  After  t-Atnng  out  the  captured  animals,  they  dug  up  the 
magician  named  Anatiua,  and  brought  him  to  their  village. 
Frightened  by  his  strange  antics  and  unintelligible  gibberiah, 
they  fled  from  him,  but  Anatiua  pursued  them,  fie  HaH  with 
him  numerous  calabashes  filled  with  water.  By  breaking  these, 
be  made  the  river  rise  until  he  had  caused  a  deluge.  The 
Indians  fled  to  the  top  of  two  mountain-peaks,  but  Anatiua 
summoned  to  his  aid  several  species  of  fish.  Finally,  one  flah 
possessing  a  beak-like  mouth  ascended  the  peaks  from  the  rear, 
pushed  the  people  down,  and  thus  drowned  them.  Only  a  few 
of  them  escaped.  These  descended  to  the  valley  whan  tfca 
waters  had  fallen  again.1 

The  Caingang  of  the  State  of  Parana  (Brazil) 
tell  of  a  great  flood  which  submerged  the  entire 
world  inhabited  by  their  ancestors,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  single  mountain-peak.  The  Cain- 
gang,  the  Kadjurukre,  and  the  Kame  all  swam 
towards  this  summit,  carrying  firesticks  in  their 
mouths,  but  only  the  Caingang  and  a  small  num- 
ber of  Kuruton  Indians  reached  the  goal,  where 
they  stayed  without  food  for  many  days,  some 
lying  on  the  ground,  while  others,  for  lack  of 
space,  were  obliged  to  cling  to  the  branches  of  the 
trees.  They  were  beginning  to  give  up  hope  when 
they  heard  the  singing  of  saracura  (water-fowl), 
which  were  carrying  hampers  full  of  earth.  By 
dropping  this  into  the  water,  they  caused  the  flood 
to  recede.  The  Indians  shouted  to  them  to  make 
haste,  which  they  did,  asking  the  ducks  to  aid 
them.  In  a  short  time  they  got  to  the  summit  of 
the  mountain  and  formed  a  platform,  on  which  the 
Caingang  departed,  those  that  had  clung  to  the 
branches  of  the  trees  being  transformed  into  Monito, 
and  the  Kuruton  into  Caraya,  Indians.  Because 
the  saracura  had  begun  their  work  in  the  east, 
all  the  watercourses  of  the  land  flow  towards  the 
west  into  the  Parana.  After  the  flood  the  Cain- 
gang established  themselves  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
mountains.  The  Kadjurukre  and  Kame,  whose 
souls  had  gone  to  dwell  inside  the  sierra,  began  to 
cut  roads,  and  finally  succeeded  in  getting  out  in 
two  opposite  directions.  The  Kadjurukre  entered 
a  level  country  watered  by  a  brook  and  without 
rocks,  so  that  their  feet  remained  small.  The 
road  of  the  Kame,  however,  led  to  a  rocky  region, 
1  P.  Ehrenreich,  '  Beitrage  rur  Volkerkunde  Brasiliena,'  Far- 
offenilichungen  aut  dem  lumiglichen  Jfuseun  fur  Voikerkvnd*, 
ii.  (Berlin,  1391)  39-41. 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Mexioan  and  South  American)        171 


where  their  feet  were  braised  and  swelled  up  to 
their  present  size.  As  there  was  no  spring  there, 
they  had  to  beg  water  of  the  Kadjurukre.  On 
leaving  the  sierra,  the  Caingang  ordered  the 
Kuruton  to  look  for  the  baskets  and  calabashes 
which  they  had  abandoned  below  before  the  deluge. 
The  Kuruton  departed,  but  were  too  lazy  to  re- 
ascend  the  mountain,  so  they  remained  where  they 
were  and  never  joined  the  Caingang.  During  the 
night  following  their  departure  from  the  sierra, 
they  built  a  fire,  and  a  Kadjurukre  made  tigers  out 
of  the  ashes  and  coals,  bidding  them  devour  the 
people  and  the  game.  As  be  had  not  enough  coal 
left  for  painting  the  creatures  he  meant  to  fashion 
next,  be  made  the  tapirs,  painting  them  with  ashes 
and  bidding  them  eat  game.  But,  as  they  were 
hard  of  hearing,  they  asked  him  to  tell  them  again 
what  to  do.  Being  already  engaged  in  creating 
another  species,  the  Kadjurukre  answered  gruffly, 
"  Eat  leaves  and  the  branches  of  trees  ! '  Since  then 
they  have  eaten  only  foliage  and  the  branches  or 
fruits  of  trees.  The  Kadjurukre  was  making  an- 
other o.TiiTrm.1,  which  still  lacked  a  tongue,  teeth,  and 
•overal  claws,  when  the  day  began  to  break.  As 
he  was  unable  to  complete  the  animal  in  the  day- 
light, he  quickly  put  a  thin  rod  in  its  month  and 
said,  '  As  you  have  no  teeth,  feed  on  ants  1  *  Hence 
the  imperfections  of  the  ant-eater.  The  next  night 
the  Kadjurukre  resumed  his  labours  and  created 
other  animals  and  insects,  among  them  the  bees.  In 
the  meantime  the  Karri e  had  created  other  animals 
to  combat  bis  rival's,  such  as  the  pumas,  venomous 
snakes,  and  wasps.  All  the  Indians  marched  on 
together.  The  young  men  of  the  Kad  jnrnkre's  band 
married  the  girfs  in  the  Kame's,  and  rice  vena  ;  and, 
as  there  were  still  left  a  great  many  young  men, 
these  married  the  Caingang  women.  For  this  reason 
the  Kadjurukre,  Caingang,  and  Kame  consider 
themselves  allies  and  relatives  of  one  another.1 

The  Tvpi  derive  their  origin  from  Monan,  the 
creator.  Offended  by  his  creatures,  this  deity 
caused  a  universal  conflagration,  which  destroyed 
all  human  beings  save  Irinmage.  Upon  the  solici- 
tation of  Irinmage,  Monan  extinguished  the  fire, 
and  afterwards  gave  him  a  wife.  From  the  des- 
cendants of  thin  pair  there  issued  Monan  Maire, 
who  acted  as  cnl  ture-hero,  transforming  men  into 
animals  and  establishing  the  cultivation  of  plants. 
However,  the  Indians  feared  him  for  his  magic,  and 
forced  him  to  commit  suicide.  One  of  his  descend- 
ants, Maire  Poxi,  dwelt  in  insignificance  among 
mankind,  but  finally  ascended  to  heaven  radiant 
with  beauty.  His  son  vainly  attempted  to  follow, 
being  transformed  into  stone.  Another  scion  of 
the  same  line,  Maire  Ata,  begat  the  twins  Tamen- 
duare  and  Arikute.  The  brothers  went  in  search 
of  their  father,  who  resided  in  the  east,  and  were 
subjected  to  a  number  of  tests.  They  proved  their 
miraculous  powers  by  shooting  an  arrow  into  the 
sky  and  sending  an  arrow  into  its  notch,  con- 
tinuing this  process  until  the  chain  of  arrows  was 
complete.  They  further  passed  through  clashing 
rocks  ('symplegades')  and  descended  to  the  under 
world.  In  the  course  of  their  wanderings  Arikute 
attacked  his  brother,  who  caused  a  deluge,  from 
which  both  were  obliged  to  flee,  seeking  the 
shelter  of  trees.  After  the  flood  they  re-peopled 
the  earth,  becoming  the  ancestors  of  two  tribal 
divisions.' 

The  AratKanians  worship  as  their  supreme  deity 
the  representative  of  thunder,  lightning,  and  fire, 
the  latter  bein"  regarded  as  the  origin  of  all  life. 
This  deity,  Piilan,  is  believed  to  reside  on  the 
highest  summits  of  the  Andes,  and  definite  localities 

1  Lucien  Adam,  '  Le  P»rler  des  Caingangs.'  Connrit  Internal, 
if*  AmrricanigUs,  Xlle  Session  (Paris,  1902).  S17-330. 

*  P.  Ehrenreich,  2?v  Mytften  u.  Lagrndtn  dtr  riidamer.  Urtdikfr 
und  ihrr  BtTvhungm  ru  denen  Sordamerikat  vnd  der  aitfi 
*•&  (Berlin.  1905),  SO.  41.  49. 


are  still  named  after  him.  At  a  later  period  there 
appeared  Mapn,  the  creator  of  the  earth,  and 
Piilan  became  his  enemy,  gradually  assuming  the 
character  of  an  evil  being.  His  messengers  and 
subordinate  genii   introduced   disease   among  the 

I  Indians  and  their  cattle,  but  could  be  driven  away 
by  means  of  burning  branches.  One  of  these  super- 
natural beings,  named  Cherruve,  took  the  form  of 
comets  and  large  meteors,  and  generally  resided 
near  the  crater  of  volcanoes.  Smaller  meteorites 
were  inhabited  by  another  form  of  being  with 
human  head  and  serpentine  body.  The  moon, 
Anchimalguen,  was  the  wife  of  the  sun,  and  was 
formerly  regarded  as  a  beneficent  deity.  More 
recently,  she  is  described  as  an  ignis  fatuus,  who 
frightens  the  traveller  by  throwing  herself  under 
his  horse's  body.  When  the  rider  attempts  to 
lasso  her,  she  flees  and  seeks  refuge  in  the  hut  of  a 
witch.1 

M&SUM&. — While  the  material  available  for  com- 
parison is  far  from  complete,  some  interesting  his- 
torical problems  present  themselves  to  the  student 
of  Central  and  South  American  myths.  So  far  as 
homologies  occur  among  neighbouring  tribes,  or 
tribes  linguistically  affiliated,  the  theory  of  dis- 
persion from  a  common  source  of  origin  offers  the 
readiest  explanation  of  the  similarities  in  question. 
Thus,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Warrau  and 
Carib  myths  recorded  by  Im  Thurn  have  a  common 
prototype,  and  the  conception  of  sun  and  moon  as 
balls  of  feathers  can  hardly  be  supposed  to  have 
originated  independently  among  the  Bakairi,  Par- 
essi,  and  Bororo.  The  surreptitious  preparation  of 
food  by  bird-women  constitutes  so  characteristic  a 
motive  that,  though  the  Jibaro  are  far  removed 
from  the  Caraya,  we  cannot  assume  that  the  inci- 
dent developed  twice,  and  we  must  depend  on 
future  research  to  indicate  more  clearly  the  path 
of  transmission.  It  is  far  more  difficult  to  apply 
this  theory  to  the  South  American  delage-mvths. 
While  in  the  northern  half  of  the  Kew  World  the 
deluge-myth  generally  assumes  a  stereotyped  form 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  embodying  highly 
characteristic  elements,  the  South  American  nar- 
ratives of  floods  do  not  seem  to  be  united  by  any 
striking  element  of  likeness.  In  the  absence  of 
such  homologies  the  possibility  of  independent 
development  cannot  be  denied,  and  we  might  sup- 
pose with  Andree1  that,  so  far  as  the  myths  are 
autochthonous,  the  flood  motive  has  been  sug- 
gested several  times  by  local  inundations-  In  view 
of  the  cultural  affinity  of  North  and  South  America, 
the  question  broached  by  Ehrenreich,  whether 
this  relationship  is  exemplified  in  the  mythology 
of  these  continents,  is  of  great  significance.  As 
Ehrenreich  points  out,  the  arrow-chain  by  which 
heroes  ascend  to  an  upper  world  in  British  Columbian 
mythology  recurs  among  the  Eastern  Tupi,  who 
are  separated  from  their  northern  kinsmen  by  fifty 
degrees  of  latitude  ;  and  the  blocking  of  a  passage- 
way to  another  world  by  a  person  of  generous  pro- 
portions is  equally  prominent  in  the  Warrau, 
Caraya,  and  Mandan  cosmogonies.1  But.  striking 
as  are  these  resemblances,  they  are  as  yet  sngges- 

l  tive  rather  than  convincing,  and  it  must  devolve 
on  future  investigators  to  settle  the  problem  of  a 
pristine  community  of  cosmogonic  tales  in  the 
Western  Hemisphere. 

Psychologically,  it  is  perhaps  worth  while  to 
emphasize  the  essentially  un  philosophical  character 
of  the  South  American  cosmogonies.  A  certain 
degTee  of  systematization  is  apparent  in  the  Mexi- 

|  can,  Mayan,  and  Peruvian  myths;  but  the  bulk  of 
even  these  cosmogonic  narratives  is  akin  in  spirit 

1  0.  Burger,  Aeht  Lchr-  und  Wandcriahrt  m  CMfc  (Leiptig, 
19091  88. 
»  R.  Andree,  FhUsagrn  (Brunswick,  1S91V 
s  Ehrenreich,  op.  eit.  50,  31. 


174 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Muhammadan) 


and  substance  to  the  folk-tales  ourrent  among 
their  less  civilized  congeners  in  both  Americas. 
The  Quiche  myth  is  probably  fuller  of  abstract 
conceptions  than  any  other  Central  and  South 
American  creation-story,  yet  those  metaphysical 
portions  of  the  Popol  Vvh  are  relatively  insignifi- 
cant compared  with  the  elaborate  tale  of  the  twin 
heroes,  which  has  numerous  parallels  on  both  con- 
tinents. Contrary  to  the  traditional  theory  that 
folk-tales  are  degenerate  myths,  it  might,  there- 
fore, be  plausibly  contended  that  myths  are  merely 
Marchen  with  a  speculative  gloss,  or  secondarily 
invested  with  a  rotigious  significance.  This  view, 
however,  which  has  been  urged  by  the  present 
writer,1  still  awaits  intensive  discussion. 

Lrrs&ATUaa.—  Tills  ifl  ■ufflolently  Indicated  in  the  article. 

Robert  H.  Lowie. 
COSMOGONY   AND    COSMOLOGY    (Mu- 
hammadan). — The  account  in  the  Qur'an  of  the 
creation  of  the  universe  is  founded  upon  an  im- 

rrfeot  version  of  the  story  in  Genesis.  In  xli.  8  ff. 
is  written  (Rod well's  tr.) : 

1  Do  ye  Indeed  disbelieve  In  Him  who  In  two  days  created 
the  earth  T  .  .  .  and  He  hath  placed  on  the  earth  the  firm 
mountains  which  tower  above  it,  and  He  hath  blessed  it,  and 
distributed  its  nourishments  throughout  It,  for  the  cravings  of 
all  alike.  In  tour  days ;  then  He  applied  Himself  to  the  heaven, 
whloh  was  but  smoke :  and  to  it  and  to  the  earth  He  said : 
11  Oome  **•,  In  obedience  or  against  your  will  "  ;  and  they  both 
said :  "  We  oome  obedient."  And  He  completed  them  as  seven 
heavens  In  two  days,  and  in  each  heaven  made  known  its 
office  :  and  He  furnished  the  lower  heaven  with  lights  and 
guardian  angels.'  Other  references  are  xv.  16  ff.,  xvL  8  ff., 
xxxv.  12,  etc. 

The  commentators  Zamahshari  and  Baidawi, 
whose  remarks  are  abstracted  in  the  notes  to 
Sale's  Koran  (Lond.  1734,  p.  389),  explain  that 
the  '  smoke '  or  '  darkness  of  the  heaven  pro- 
ceeded from  the  waters  under  the  throne  of  God 
(which  was  created  before  the  heavens  and  the 
earth),  and  rose  alove  the  water ;  and,  the  water 
being  dried  up,  the  earth  was  formed  out  of  it ; 
and  the  heavens  out  of  the  smoke  which  had 
mounted  aloft.  It  is  added  that  the  heavens  were 
created  on  Thursday ;  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars 
on  Friday,  in  the  evening  of  which  Adam  was 
made.  The  guardian  angels  were  appointed  to 
ward  off  prying  devils  (Baidawi,  »6.  211).  The 
Traditions  add  little  to  this  vague  material : 

'  God  was ;  but  nothing  was  before  Him,  and  His  Imperial 
throne  was  upon  water.  After  that  God  created  the  regions 
and  the  earth  ;  and  wrote  everything  on  the  tablet  of  Hifl 
own  memory.'  'The  angels  were  created  from  a  bright  gem, 
and  the  jinn  from  Are  without  smoke,  and  Adam  from  clay.' 
'  When  God  created  Adam  in  paradise  .  .  .  the  devil  came  and 
took  a  look  at  him,  and,  when  he  saw  him  with  a  body,  he 
knew  that  God  had  created  a  creation  which  could  not  guard 
itself  from  hunger'  (Mtihkat  ai-Ma^dbih,  tr.  Matthews,  Cal- 
cutta, 1810,  xxiv.  I.  1). 

Orthodox  Muslim  imagination  has  elaborated  a 
fantastic  idea  of  the  Creation  out  of  these  scanty 
materials,  aided  by  suggestions  from  foreign 
sources  (such  as  the  seven  spheres  and  seven 
climates),  but  without  allowing  notions  of  science 
or  philosophy  to  trench  upon  revelation.  Thus  the 
Qur'&n  (ii.  20,  lxxviii.  6)  states  that  the  earth  was 
'  spread  out  as  a  bed,'  or  '  as  a  carpet ' ;  so  it  mani- 
festly must  be  a  flat  surface.  The  Muhammadans 
interpret  the  sayings  of  their  Prophet  literally,  and 
believe  that  there  are  seven  heavens,  one  above  the 
other,  and  seven  earths,  one  beneath  the  other  ; 
and  they  lay  down  the  distances  between  them, 
and  the  diameter  of  each,  and  the  substance  of 
which  each  is  constructed,  with  much  precision. 
(These  valueless  speculations  and  opinions  may  be 
read  in  some  detail  in  Lane,  1001  Nights,  London, 
1859,  Introd.,  note  2.)  One  account  pretends  that, 
the  seven  superimposed  earths  being  unstable,  God 
created  a  series  of  supports  beneath  them  :  first 
He  ordered  an  immense  angel  to  go  beneath  and 
hold  the  earth  (or  rather  the  seven  earths)  on  his 
1  Lowie,  '  The  Test-Theme  in  North  American  Mythology,' 
JAFL  xxl  (1908)  97-148,  xxii.  (1909)  431  ff. 


shoulders;  and  beneath  his  feet,  to  support  him, 
God  created  a  rock  of  ruby,  with  7000  perfora- 
tions, from  each  of  which  poured  a  sea.  But  the 
rock  stood  upon  nothing,  so  God  created  a  huge 
bull  called  Kuyiita,  with  4000  eyes,  and  an  equal 
number  of  other  features,  to  bear  it  up  on  his 
back  and  horns.  And  under  the  bull  God  made 
Behemoth  (Bahamut),  the  giant  fish,  to  lie ;  be- 
neath which  was  placed  water,  and  under  the  water 
darkness,  '  and  the  knowledge  of  mankind  fails 
as  to  what  is  under  the  darkness  '  (al-Damlri,  Ibn- 
al-Wardl,  etc.,  ap.  Lane,  op.  cit.);  but  the  general 
belief  is  that  there  lies  Hell  with  its  seven  stages, 

i' ust  as  Paradise  is  supposed  to  be  in  the  seventh 
leaven  or  above  it.  Muslim  philosophers  naturally 
did  not  always  subscribe  to  such  opinions,  but,  as 
their  philosophy  was  wholly  borrowed,  their  ideas 
of  cosmogony  possess  no  original  value. 
Lttkratueii.-- This  is  given  in  the  article. 

Stanley  Lane-Poole. 
COSMOGONY  (Polynesian).  —  Throughout 
Polynesia  the  creation  of  the  world  is  assigned  to 
Tangaloa,  the  god  of  heaven,  who  is  thus  named 
in  Tonga  and  Samoa,  while  in  Tahiti,  Raiatea,  the 
Hervey  Islands,  and  elsewhere  he  is  called  Taaroa, 
in  New  Zealand  Tangaroa,  and  in  Hawaii  Kanaloa. 
He  dwells  in  the  highest  heaven,  and  U  often 
believed  to  have  the  form  of  a  bird,  this  being  his 
aspect  as  the  celestial  wind-god.  The  sun  G  his 
left  eye,  and  he  is  likewise  often  the  god  of  the 
sea,  the  mirror  and  the  earthly  representative  of 
the  blue  sky.  His  wife  is  an  enormous  rook  named 
O-te-papa,  by  whom  he  became  the  parent  of  the 
gods,  the  planets,  the  sea,  and  the  winds.  The 
gods,  in  their  turn,  were  the  parents  of  mankind, 
although,  according  to  other  accounts,  Tangaloa 
himself  formed  man  of  red  earth.  Besides  O-te- 
papa,  Tangaloa  had  other  wives,  by  one  of  whom, 
ilina,  at  once  his  daughter  and  his  wife  (as  in 
many  other  cosmogonic  myths),  some  legends  made 
him  the  parent  of  heaven,  earth,  sea,  and  numerous 
gods.  After  man  lie  created  beasts,  fowls,  and 
fishes.  Still  other  creation-myths  ascribe  the 
creation  of  the  sky,  clouds,  stars,  winds,  beasts, 
fishes,  sea,  and  the  like  to  Raitubu,  '  the  maker  of 
heaven,'  a  sort  of  demiurge  and  the  son  of  Tangaloa. 
The  earth  is  also  explained,  especially  in  the  western 
Society  Islands,  as  the  exterior  of  Tangaloa's  body, 
while  in  Raiatea  he  was  believed  to  live  in  a  sort 
of  mussel,  throwing  away  the  shells  from  time  to 
time,  and  thus  enlarging  the  world.  The  myth  of 
the  cosmic  egg  was  not  unknown  in  Polynesia.  A 
legend  current  in  Hawaii,  the  Society  Islands,  and 
Tahiti,  made  Tangaloa,  in  his  aspect  as  a  bird,  a 
prisoner  for  long  ages  in  a  gigantic  egg.  He  finally 
broke  this  place  of  confinement,  however,  and  the 
two  halves  of  the  shell  formed  the  heaven  and  the 
earth,  while  the  smaller  fragments  became  the 
islands.  Another  tradition  makes  the  islands  bits 
broken  from  the  cosmic  rock  O-te-papa,  as  she  was 
dragged  by  her  husband  through  the  sea,  or  else 
pieces  broken  off  from  the  mainland  by  angry  gods. 
The  myth  of  the  cosmic  egg  recurs  in  New  Zealand, 
where  mankind  were  believed  to  be  produced  from 
an  egg  laid  on  the  waters  by  a  gigantic  bird. 

Tangaloa's  exertions  at  the  creation  of  the  world 
were  so  great  that,  according  to  some  cosmogonic 
legends  of  Polynesia,  the  salt  sweat  which  streamed 
from  him  formed  the  ocean.  From  this  ocean 
Tangaloa  attempted  to  fish  the  earth  ;  but,  just  as 
land  was  appearing  above  the  surface  of  the  water, 
his  line  broke,  and  the  potential  continent  was 
dashed  into  a  mass  of  small  islands.  A  similar 
legend  of  Tangaloa  fishing  up  the  earth  was  found 
in  Samoa,  though  the  inchoate  condition  of  Poly- 
nesian cosmogony  is  again  exemplified  by  the  exist- 
ence in  this  island  of  divergent  myths  on  this 
subject.      Two  islands,   Savaii   and.    Upolu,   were 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Roman) 


178 


hurled  from  heaven  by  Tangaloa.  He  then  sent 
his  daughter,  Turi  or  Tuli,  to  people  this  first 
land,  ana  she,  assuming  the  form  of  a  snipe,  settled 
down  upon  the  islands,  hearing  with  her  a  creeper 
which  grew  in  the  earth  that  formed  beneath  her 
feet.  From  the  decaying  leaves  and  tendrils  of 
the  creeper  came  worms,  which  Tuli  pecked  in  two 
with  her  beak,  thus  forming  human  beings. 

Both  heaven  and  earth  were  regarded  as  im- 
personal in  Samoa,  Tahiti,  and  Rarotonga,  and  as 
being  so  close  together  that  men  could  not  stand 
upright,  but  were  forced  to  crawl  on  the  ground. 
The  two  were  separated,  according  to  the  Samoan 
and  Rarotongan  versions  of  the  myth,  by  a  man 
who  pressed  them  apart.  In  Tahiti,  on  the  other 
hand,  Ru,  the  sea-goa,  raised  the  sky  to  its  present 
elevation.  In  Raiatea,  a  monstrous  cuttle-fish  held 
the  earth  and  the  heaven  together,  but  he  was 
killed  by  the  sun-god  Maui,  whereupon  the  sky 
rose  up  to  heaven.  On  the  shonldera  or  the  back 
of  this  god  the  earth  rests ;  and,  when  he  moves,  the 
earth  quakes.  He  is  also  confused  with  Tangaloa 
as  the  deity  who  fished  the  earth  from  the  sea, 
while  in  other  legends  he  takes  the  place  of  Tan- 
gs loa's  daughter,  Tuli,  assumes  the  shape  of  a  bird, 
and  forms  man  by  dividing  a  worm  in  two.  In 
Tonga  the  earthquake  is  caused  by  the  subter- 
ranean god  Mafuike,  who  carries  Samoa  in  his  left 
arm.  This  same  phenomenon  iB  elsewhere  ascribed 
to  other  gods,  such  as  Maui  himself  in  Tahiti. 

Throughout  this  cycle  of  Polynesian  cosmogonio 
myth  one  fact,  not  without  parallel  in  other  re- 
ligions, is  clear.  O-te-papa,  the  primal  barren 
earth  or  rock,  represents  the  female  principle,  which 
is  fructified  and  made  to  give  birth  to  all  things 
living,  by  the  fertilizing  rain  which  falls  from  the 
superincumbent  male  Tangaloa,  the  sky.  In  New 
Zealand  the  myth  of  the  separation  of  earth  and 
sky  undergoes  a  curious  modification. 

Originally  Rangi,  the  sky,  who  takes  the  place  of  the  general 
Polynesian  Tangaloa,  who  becomes  a  mere  sea-god  In  this 
Island,  was  closely  united  in  nuptial  embrace  with  Papa,  the 
earth.  From  tbta  union  sprang  countless  children,  but  they 
were  forced  to  dwell  In  utter  darkness.  In  discomfort  at  this 
gloomy  existence,  the  offspring  of  the  pair  sought  to  separate 
their  parents.  Tu-matauenga,  the  most  cruel  of  all,  urged  that 
Bangi  and  Papa  be  killed  ;  but  Tane-mahuta,  the  god  of  trees, 
urged  that  the  pair  be  parted.  All  assented,  excepting  Tawhirl- 
rnatea,  the  god  of  winds.  The  gods  in  turn  now  endeavoured  to 
break  the  embrace  of  their  parents — Ronga-ma-tane,  the  god  of 
cultivated  plants,  Haumia-tikitiki,  the  god  of  wild  plants,  Tan- 
galoa, the  god  of  fishes  and  reptiles,  and  Tu-matauenga,  the  god 
of  heroes.  Finally,  Tane-mahuta  pressed  his  back  against  his 
mother  and  his  feet  against  his  father,  thus  parting  Rang!  from 
Papa.  Tawhiri-inatea,  however,  was  angry  with  his  brothers 
and  followed  his  father,  so  that  the  wind  and  his  children,  the 
storm  wmds,  still  make  war  on  the  forests  and  the  sea.  and  only 
man,  the  offspring  of  the  terrible  Tu-matauenga,  is  able  to 
resist  them.  Strife  also  arose  among  tbe  gods  who  had  remained 
on  earth,  especially  between  the  god  of  the  sea  and  the  god  of 
the  forest,  since  the  latter  gave  Tu-matauenga  wood  for  flshing- 
lmplemente,  wherefore  the  sea  is  angry  with  men  and  seeks  to 
devour  them.  On  the  other  hand ,  Ma-tauenga  and  his  offspring, 
mankind,  were  able  to  conquer  all  the  gods,  with  the  exception 
of  the  wind  which  blows  from  heaven. 

This  version,  although  more  detailed  than  any 
other  Polynesian  creation-myth,  is  obviously  of 
much  later  origin  than  the  legends  current  else- 
where in  this  part  of  Oceania. 

LmuATimE. — Waitz-Gerland,  Anthropol.  der  Naturviilher 
(Leipzig,  1872),  vi.  232-239,  245-264 ;  A.  Bastlan,  Die  heilige 
Sage  der  PolywaUr  (Leipzig,  1881).        LOUIS  H.  GRAY. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Roman). 
— The  only  Roman  cosmogonies  which  go  beyond 
mere  single  statements  about  the  origin  of  the  world 
are  found  in  the  works  of  later  writers.  They  be- 
long, therefore,  to  a  period  when  Roman  culture 
was  permeated  with  foreign,  and  especially  Greek, 
elements.  On  the  other  hand,  we  meet  with  vari- 
ous cosmogonical  ideas  which  may  be  referred 
without  hesitation  to  the  earliest  Roman  times. 
We  shall,  therefore,  give  some  account  of  these, 
and  afterwards  inquire  how  far  they  enter  into,  and 


give  a  genuinely   Roman  character  to,   the  cos- 
mogonies of  a  later  age. 

I.  Early  cosmogonical  ideas.— Nearly  all  the 
cosmogonical  ideas  of  the  Romans  were  connected 
with  the  god  Janus,  who  is  admittedly  one  of  the 
very  oldest  Roman  divinities  (cf .  e.g.  Herodian,  i.  16 : 
Btbi  dpxai&raros  Tijt'lTaKLtis  tirtxupios).  As  F.  Lukas 
(see  Literature)  puts  it,  he  is  related  to  Juppiter 
as  the  First  is  to  the  Highest.  Accordingly,  in  the 
public  worship  of  the  Romans  the  first  sacrifice  was 
paid  to  Janus  (Mart.  Epig.  x.  28.  2).  As  first  in 
time  he  was  naturally  also  regarded  as  the  cause 
of  all  that  followed  after.  So  Festus,  explaining 
why  the  first  sacrifice  was  paid  to  Janus,  adds  : 
1  Jano  primum  fuisse  supplicatum,  quasi  parenti,  a 
quo  rerum  omnium  factum  putabant  pnncipiuni.' 
M.  Val.  Messala,  the  augur  (50  B.C.),  describes  his 
cosmogonical  character  more  fully :  '  qui  cuncta 
fingit  eademqne  regit,  aquae  terraeque  vim  ac 
naturam  gravem  atque  pronam  in  profundnm  dila- 
bentem,  ignis  atque  ammae  levem,  in  immensum 
in  sublime  fugientem,  copulavit  circumdato  coelo,' 
etc.  (Macr.  Sat.  i.  9).  Martial  {Epig.  x.  28.  1) 
describes  him  as  '  sator  mundi.'  As  the  author  of 
organic  life,  he  is  described  in  a  fragment  of  the 
SaJiaric  Hymn  (Varro,  Ling.  Lat.  7,  26)  as  '  duonus 
cerus' — where  ' duonus'  =  bonus,  'good,'  and  'cerus' 
(or '  kerus,'  connected  with  creo,  Skr.  fear,  'to  make') 
means  a  creative  spirit,  and,  as  it  is  an  older  word 
for  Genius,   the  creative  deity   of   the  family  in 

E articular  (Lukas,  p.  200).     As  the  author  of  life, 
e  was  also  invoked  as  Consivius  (a  conserendo, 
Macr.  Sat.  i.  9,  16). 

It  is  clear,  then,  that  Janus  was  a  cosmogonic 
personage.  But  it  is  difficult  to  say  what  cosmic 
principle,  if  any,  was  originally  represented  by 
him.  Here  everything  depends  on  the  meaning  of 
the  name,  about  which  opinions  have  varied  greatly 
both  in  ancient  and  in  modern  times  (cf.  Roscher, 
s.v.  'Janus').  Of  the  ancient  explanations,  that 
which  regarded  Janus  as  a  personification  of  the 
Sun  (Nigid.  Fig.  in  Macr.  Sat.  i.  9, 1 1 ,  etc. )  has  been 
most  generally  adopted  by  recent  writers,  amongst 
whom  we  include  those  who  think  of  the  sun's  light 
rather  than  the  sun  itself  (cf.  Roscher,  I.e.  ;  Lukas, 

f).  202,  etc.).  According  to  another  and  very  simi- 
ar  ancient  view,  Janus  represented  the  Heaven 
(Macr.  Sat.  i.  9,  11),  and,  further,  we  are  informed 
by  Varro  that  in  this  character  he  occupied  a  place 
of  the  highest  honour  among  the  Etruscans — abrliv 
irapa  QovaKOit  oitpavbv  \£yeadai  ko\  tipopov  irdirrj^  irpd^ews 
(ap.  J.  Lydus,  De  mens.  iv.  2).  Now,  there  is  a 
remarkable  fragment  of  an  Etruscan  cosmogony  in 
the  oracle  of  Vegoia  or  Vegone  (see  Gromat.  Vet. 
350  ;  cf.  Muller-Deecke,  Die  Etrusk.  ii.  30  ff.,  165, 
299,  312 ;  Preller,  Rom.  MytKol.  i.  172,  256),  which 
begins :  '  Scias  mare  ex  aethere  remotum.  Cum 
auteni  Juppiter  terram  Etruriae  sibi  vindicavit,' 
etc.  Here  we  have  a  Latin  translation,  probably 
of  the  2nd  or  3rd  cent.  B.C. ,  of  an  ancient  Etruscan 
oracle,  which,  according  to  Preller,  represents 
ancient  Italian  popular  belief.  The  oracle,  which 
relates  to  the  protection  of  landed  property  in 
Etruria,  is  thus  prefaced  by  a  priestly  doctrine 
about  the  origin  of  the  world  :  the  Sea  arose  by 
separation  out  of  primal  ./Kther — and  the  same 
must  also  have  been  asserted  in  the  original  oracle 
about  the  Earth  (Preller,  i.  256  n.).  But  iEther 
is  practically  the  same  as  Heaven  (see  art.  vETHER 
in  vol.  i.  ;  Roscher,  s.v.  '  Aither '),  with  which  we 
are  told  that  Janus  was  identified  in  Etruria,  and 
it  includes  the  notion  of  Light  (see  '  Greek '  art. 
above;  and  Lukas,  p.  208— 'Aether  =  Licht  des 
Himmels'),  which  others  regarded  as  the  essential 
attribute  of  Janus.     Hence  it  is  reasonable  to  sup- 

Sose   that  the  early  Italians  not    only   regarded 
anus   as   creator  of   the  world,  but  pictured  his 
creative    activity    after    the    manner    described 


m& 


Afi 


'.■"■•■>/ f:JT 


176 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Teutonic^ 


in  the  Etruscan  oracle  (Lukas,  loc.  eit.  ;  Preller, 
p.  172). 

2.  Literary  cosmogonies. — We  are  now  in  a 
position  to  inquire  how  far  the  oosmogonies  of  the 
later  poets  oan  be  regarded  as  an  independent 
produot  of  Konian  thought.  We  may  fairly  ascribe 
this  oharaotur  to  uny  cosmogony  which  is  based  on 
the  ideas  already  dcHcrlbed.  Franz  Lukas  has 
tried  to  show  that  this  in  the  case  with  regard  to 
the  theory  sketched  by  Ovid  in  the  Metam.  i.  5  ff., 
and  Fastt,  i.  103  11'.  Ovid's  is  also,  so  far  as  we 
kuow,  the  only  complete  oosmogouy  whose  depend- 
ence on  primitive  Human  ideas  oan  be  at  all  confi- 
dently asserted.   To  it,  therefore,  we  shall  now  turn. 

In  the  Mntamorvhases  we  read  that  the  world 
was  preceded  by  Chaos.  This  was  not,  however, 
the  empty  void  of  the  Hesiodio  cosmogony,  but  the 
primary  substance  with  which  space  was  filled. 
It  was  a  formless  and  confused  mass — 'rudis  in- 
digostaque  moles ' — the  parte  of  which  all  struggled 
with  one  another,  by  reason  of  opposite  qualities  of 
moist  and  dry,  hot  and  cold,  eto.  The  process  by 
which  the  world  arose  out  of  Chaos  is  attributed  to 
what  Ovid  calls  'Dens  et  melior  nature.'  The 
'  melior  natura '  is  evidently  the  material  force  by 
means  of  which  order  is  brought  out  of  chaos.  Did 
it  reside  in  matter  from  the  first?  The  passage  is 
not  clear  on  this  point  (of.  Lukas,  p.  208).  But  at 
least  it  im  plies  that  at  some  point  of  time  the  Deity 
either  infused  a  higher  nature  into  the  primal  sub- 
stance, or  gave  effect  to  a  higher  power  latent 
within  it.  Forthwith  the  diverse  elements  sepa- 
rated from  each  other,  and  united  with  their  like, 
and  the  wholes  thus  formed  took  up  a  relative 
position  in  accordance  with  their  several  natures. 
Fire,  the  lightest  element,  flashed  forth  from  the 
topmost  arch  of  heaven  ;  beneath  it  was  the  Air, 
and  lower  still  the  Earth,  while  Water,  encircling 
the  latter  ('  circumfluus  humor '),  still  further  com- 
pressed its  solid  mass.  Next,  the  Deity  moulded 
the  Earth,  which  must  here  be  taken  as  including 
the  liquid  element,  into  a  sphere,  and  formed  it  in 
all  its  parts — seas,  fountains,  lakes,  marshes,  and 
rivers,  plains,  valleys,  hills,  and  zones.  He  like- 
wise completed  the  severance  of  the  ./Ether  from 
the  Air,  the  region  of  cloud  and  storm.  Then  the 
constellations,  erstwhile  hidden  in  Chaos,  glowed 
in  the  firmament.  Life  in  all  its  grades  appeared. 
The  stars,  as  Divine  Beings,  dwelt  in  heaven ; 
fish,  bird,  and  beast  tenanted  their  respective 
homes,  and  lastly  Man  was  born. 

The  cosmogony  of  the  Fasti  is  similar,  but  with 
some  notable  differences.  There  is  nothing  here 
about  the  '  Deus  '  or  the  '  melior  natura.  The 
former  is  absent  because  the  poet  is  concerned  with 
the  evolution  of  the  four  elements  rather  than  with 
the  formation  of  the  world ;  and  the  latter,  be- 
cause here,  whatever  may  be  the  case  in  the 
Metam.,  the  evolution  of  the  primary  matter  is  re- 

f  aided  as  due  to  its  own  indwelling  force.  Another 
ifference  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  primary  matter, 
which  is  again  called  Chaos,  is  here  expressly 
identified  with  the  god  Janus.  This  brings  us 
directly  to  the  question  whether  the  Ovidian  cos- 
mogony is  to  be  regarded  as  essentially  Roman. 
Now,  the  mere  fact  that  Ovid  equates  Chaos  with 
Janus  counts  for  little,  as  the  connexion  of  the 
names  depends  on  a  fantastic  etymology  (cf. 
Boscher,  s.v.  'Janus,'  pp.  35,  43).  What  is  im- 
portant is  that  the  eosmogonical  ideas  contained  in 
the  Fasti  are  expressly  associated  with  the  old 
Roman  god.  The  ground-thought  of  the  passage 
is  the  separation  of  the  elements  from  primal 
matter  in  obedience  to  the  law  of  its  own  nature. 
The  same  thought  is  present  in  the  Metam. ,  though 
there  the  evolutionary  process  is  ascribed  in  part 
to  a  '  melior  natura '  working  along  with  a  separate 
Divine  agency.     We  have  seen,  further,  that  the 


separation  of  the  elements  from  the  primal  jEthei 
(and  that  apparently  without  reference  to  an 
external  agency)  was  an  ancient  Etruscan  doctrine, 
and  that  in  all  probability  ./Ether  and  Janus  were 
equivalent  terms.  Still  the  connexion  of  the 
Etruscan  doctrine  with  Janus  rested  on  conjectural 
etymological  grounds.  But  the  fact  that  Ovid 
expressly  associates  the  same  ideas  with  Janus  is 
strong  evidence  both  that  the  former  inference  was 
correct,  and  that  we  have  here  a  genuine  Roman 
cosmogony.  At  the  same  time  it  is  probable  that 
in  the  working  out  of  the  fundamental  idea  Ovid 
was  more  or  less  indebted  to  Greek  thought  (ef 
Lukas,  p.  209). 

The  idea  of  a  force  inherent  in  primary  matter, 
which  forms  the  basis  of  Ovid's  cosmogony,  appears 
also  in  the  representations  which  other  poets  give 
of  Nature  in  general.     As  examples  of  these,  Lukas 
refers  to  Virg.  Georg.  iL  336  ff.,  and  Mn.  vi  724 ff. 
In  the  former  passage  the  poet  ascribes  the  origin 
of  the  world  to  the  same  force  which  at  each  new 
spring-time  clothes  it  with  fresh  life : 
'  Nod  alios  prima  cresoentis  origine  irmndi 
liluxisst  dies ;  aliuinve  habuiase  tenorem 
Orediderini.    Ver  illud  era: ;  ver  magnus  agebat 
Orbia,  et  hibernia  parcebant  flatibus  Kuri, 
Quum  phmae  lucem  pecudes  kausere,  virumqu 
Ferrea  progenies  duns  caput  extulit  arvis, 
Immi&saeque  ferae  ailvia  et  sidera  coelo.' 
In  the  second  passage  he  speaks  of  the  Soul 
whioh  animates  the   body  of    the  world,   which 
streams  through  every  member,  and  from  which 
every  living  creature  sprang.     In  both  these  pass- 
ages the  poet,   no  doubt,   borrowed  freely  from 
other  writers,  and  especially  from  Lucretius  (see 
Conington's  Virg.).      But  he  gives  expression  to 
the  thought  which  we  have  seen  reason  to  believe 
was  familiar   to   the   Romans  from   the  earliest 
time — that,  namely,  of  the  evolutionary  capacity 
of  matter. 

Ln  uRATURE.— Roscber  (see  Coshoooiy  am  Oosmoujst  [Gr.], 
4  Literature  '),  where  readers  wii]  find  a  full  account  and  criticism 
of  views  relating  to  Janus  ;  F.  L-ukas,  A'oint.  (see  tb.) ;  GromaL 
Vet.,  ex  rec.  O.  Lachmann,  2  Tola.,  Berlin,  1848-67;  K.  O. 
M tiller,  Die  Etrueker,  new  ed.  by  W.  Deecke,  2  vols.,  Stuttgart, 
1877  ;  I_  Preller,  Earn,  llylhel.,  2  vols.,  3rd  od.  by  H.  Jordan, 
Berlin,  1881-8.  L  F.  BUBNS. 

COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Teu- 
tonic).— The  word  'Teutonic,'  as  we  take  it,  is  in 
its  way  descriptive  of  all  peoples  of  Germanic 
origin,  such  as  the  Scandinavian,  German,  Dutch, 
and  Anglo-Saxon.  The  word  '  Teuton '  first  ap- 
pears in  the  4th  cent.  B.C.,  and  is  then  applied  to 
the  Germanic  tribe  living  around  the  mouth  of  the 
river  Elbe.  Modern  ethnologists  join  in  the  com- 
mon division  of  the  Teutonic  race,  as  yet  existing, 
into  three  branches  :  (1)  the  Scandinavian,  (2)  the 
Low  German,  and  (3)  the  High  German.  The 
Scandinavian  branch  includes  the  Icelanders,  the 
Norwegians,  the  Swedes,  and  the  Danes  ;  the  Low 
German  branch  includes  the  Frisians,  the  Dutch, 
the  Low  or  Northern  Germans,  the  Flemings,  and 
the  Anglo-Saxons ;  the  High  Germans  are  the 
Germans  of  Middleand  Upper  Germany,  of  Switzer- 
land, and  of  Austria.  For  convenience'  sake  it  is 
just  as  well,  however,  to  speak  only  of  the  Scandi- 
navian and  the  German  branches,  since  this  is 
both  common  and  satisfactory.1 

As  Teutons,  these  two  great  branches  had  a 
common  origin  and  a  common  faith  in  the  super- 
natural. Thus  their  myths  are  also  essentially 
identical,  though  the  Scandinavian  is  much  richer 
than  the  German.  This  is  especially  the  case  with 
reference  to  their  cosmogony,  for  which  we  have  to 
depend  almost  entirely  upon  Scandinavian  sources. 
But  whether  the  common  stock  of  Teutonic  belief 

1  Some  divide  the  entire  Teutonic  race  into  the  Eastern, 
Western,  and  Northern  branches.  Of  these  the  Eastern,  which 
once  consisted  of  Ostrogoths,  Visigoths,  and  Moesogotha,  is  now 
extinct ;  and  the  other  two  divisions  are  identical  with  the 
German  and  the  Scandinavian  branches. 


COSMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Teutonic) 


177 


is  faithfully  preserved  in  the  Northern  myths  is 
a,  matter  of  much  dispute.  In  reference  to  this 
problem,  two  different  sohools  have  developed — 
the  conservative,  and  the  critical — to  which  must 
be  added  a  number  of  more  or  less  independent 
investigators  of  a  mediating  type,  leaning  towards 
the  one  side  or  the  other,  though,  of  course,  having 
much  in  common  with  both  (cf.  Literature  at  end 
of  art.). 

It  is,  however,  safe  to  say  that  most  modern 
scholars  hold  that  Christianity  in  its  earlier  forms 
has,  in  a  marked  degree,  influenced  the  old  Norse 
poets,  their  songs,  and  their  sagas,  and  conse- 
quently has  made  it  very  difficult  to  ascertain 
which  elements  in  this  mythology  are  genuinely 
Teutonic  The  important  poem  V oluspd  especially 
is  viewed  with  much  suspicion,  as  may  be  well 
noted,  for  instance,  in  E.  H.  Meyer's  edition  of  it 
(Vdluspd,  eine  Untenmehung,  Berlin,  1889),  in 
which  he  arrives  at  the  conclusion  that  this  great 
eosmogonic  sonrce  is  &  mere  Christian  poem  in  a 
heathen  disguise,  composed  in  the  12th  cent,  by 
Saemund  the  Learned.  Several  later  authors  do 
not  agree  with  thiB  view,  but  rather  consider  it 
erroneous,  though  they  allow  that  the  great  song  has 
suffered  from  foreign  influences,  probably  mostly 
Christian.  Furthermore,  it  is  generally  held 
that  the  author  of  this  poem,  as  well  as  of  all 
the  songs  of  the  poetic  Ed  da,  is  unknown,  though 
the  various  lays  were  all  collected  in  the  13th 
century. 

From  the  German  sources  little  can  be  learnt  con- 
cerning the  cosmogony  of  the  old  Teutons.  Indeed, 
they  tell  us  next  to  nothing  of  any  of  the  beginnings, 
too  they  have  no  prophecies  with  reference  to  the 
future,  while  there  is  much  of  both  kinds  in  the 
Scandinavian  myths.  Traces,  indeed,  have  been 
found  in  Germany  of  a  mythological  belief  similar 
to  the  Scandinavian,  and  even  identical  with  it. 
Thus  in  Wait^s  '  Merseburg  M8  '  (probably  from 
the  10th  cent.)  there  are  indications  of  a  Balder  as 
an  originally  Teutonic  character  j  Odin  is  men- 
tioned and  Frija  his  wife,  as  is  also  a  class  of 
beings  named  Idisi,  who  perform  the  same  services 
as  the  Valkyries  of  the  Northern  myths.  These 
names  occur  in  certain  magic  formube  of  undoubted 
heathen  character,  which  are  contained  in  the 
manuscript  just  mentioned.  A  similar  source  is 
the  so-called  'Wessobrunn  Prayer'  from  the  8th 
cent.,  in  which,  according  to  MuDenhoff  and  others, 
there  are  traces  also  of  an  original  Teutonic  cos- 
mogony with  the  concept  of  a  large  void  and  yawn- 
ing abyss,  etc.  But  this  may  have  been  derived 
front  Christian  influences,  as  Wackernagel  con- 
tends. Another  source  is  found  in  Tacitus  works, 
in  which  he  incidentally  or  otherwise  touches  upon 
the  belief  of  the  Teutons  (cf.  esp.  An.  xiii.  57 ; 
Oerm.  il,).  From  these  notices  it  seems  that  the 
old  Teutons  considered  fire  and  water,  and  also  salt, 
as  original  elements.  Similar  notions  are  to  be 
found  in  Snorri  Sturlason's  Gylfaginning,  chs.  5 
and  8  (of.  below,  p.  178,  on  the  cow  Audhumla  lick- 
ing salty  stones  in  Ginnungagap).  Finally,  there 
exists  at  Mainz  a  letter  of  Daniel  of  Winchester 
(Ep.  15,  Mon.  Moguntina  Coll.)  to  Boniface,  the 
missionary  to  the  Germans,  written  c.  720,  which 
to  some  extent  describes  tlio  cnltus  and  beliefs  of 
the  ancient  heathen.  In  it  there  are  some  refer- 
ences to  the  origin  of  the  world  and  of  the  gods 
themselves. 

These  are  really  the  only  remains  which  we 
possess  from  the  German  branch  of  the  Teutons  as 
to  the  beginning  of  the  world,  except  that  in  the 
idiom  of  the  language  itself  and  in  certain  remain- 
ing forms  of  magic  there  are  some  recollections  of 
ideas  once  entertained  by  the  original  Teutons. 
But  from  all  these  remnants  brought  together 
there    cannot    be    constructed    anything    like    a 

VOL.  IV.  — 12 


Teutonic  cosmogony.    For  such  we  have,  as  already 
indicated,  to  turn  to  the  North. 

The  two  main  cosmogonic  sources  of  the  Scandi- 
navian branch  of  the  Teutons  are  Snorri  Sturlason's 
Gylfaginning  and  the  Vdluspd.  The  former  is,  how- 
ever, of  less  value  as  being  very  much  a  construction 
from  the  period  of  its  composition,  so  that  we  shall 
have  to  draw  mainly  from  the  latter.  According 
to  it,  the  origin  of  the  world,  with  its  resultants, 
was  as  follows : 

'  There  was,  in  times  of  old,  where  Ymir  dwelt, 
nor  land  nor  sea,  nor  gelid  waves  ; 
earth  existed  not,  nor  heaven  above ; 
there  was  a  chaotio  chasm, 
and  verdure  nowhere. 

Before  B6r's  sons  raised  up  heaven's  vault, 
they  who  the  noble  Midhpardh  shaped, 
the  sun  shone  from  the  south 
on  the  structure's  rocks  ; 

there  was  the  earth  begrown 
with  green  herbage. 

The  sun  from  the  south,  the  moon's  companion, 
her  right  hand  cast  round  the  heavenly  horses ; 
the  sun  knew  not  where  it  had  a  dwelling  ; 
the  moon  knew  not  what  power  it  possessed  ; 
the  stars  knew  not  where  they  had  station. 

The  Aesir  met  on  Idha's  plain  ; 

they  altar-steads  and  temples  high  constructed  ; 

their  strength  they  proved,  all  things  tried, 

furnaces  established, 

precious  things  forged, 

formed  tongs,  and  fabricated  tools. 

At  tables  played  at  home  ;  Joyous  they  were ; 
to  them  was  not  the  want  of  gold, 
until  there  came  Thure-maidenB  three 
all  powerful, 
from  Jotunhelm. 


Then  went  all  the  powers  to  their  lodgment' 
the  all-holy  gods,  and  thereon  held  council 
who  should  the  dwarfs'  race  create, 
from  the  sea-giant's  blood 
and  livid  bones. 

Then  was  Motsognir  created, 

greatest  of  all  the  dwarfs, 

and  Durin  second ; 

there  in  man's  likeness 

they  created  many  dwarfs  from  earth, 

as  Durin  said.' 

Then  follows  a  list  of  some  fifty -five  dwarfs,  which 
the  high  gods  created  to  be  remembered  as  long  as 
mortal  men  exist  on  earth.  And,  as  in  Genesis 
and  most  other  cosmogonies,  so  in  the  Edda  there 
is  a  story  of  a  double  creation,  for  now  we  are  told 
that 

*  There  came  three  mighty  and  benevolent  Aesir 

to  the  world  from  their  assembly. 

They  found  on  earth  nearly  powerless 

Ask  and  Gmbta, 

void  of  destiny. 

Spirit  they  possessed  not,  sense  they  had  not, 
nor  blood,  nor  motive  powers,  nor  goodly  colour. 
Spirit  gave  Odin,  sense  gave  Hoenir, 
blood  gave  Lodhur, 
and  goodly  colour.' 

According  to  this  description  of  the  Creation,  we 
find  that  before  either  heaven  or  earth  was  made 
there  existed  a  chaotic  state  with  a  deep  yawning 
chasm,  later  called  Ginnungagap  ('yawning  gap  '). 
This  may  be  considered  as  the  terminus  a  quo  for 
the  Teutonic  idea  of  creation.  In  the  Vdluspd  the 
story  of  the  making  of  the  world  is  given  as  here 
quoted,  but  it  would  hardly  be  fair  to  make  this 
the  only  source  of  the  cosmogony  of  the  Teutons, 
as  long  as  there  is  another,  which  proceeds  to  a 
much  more  detailed  description.  This  is  found  in 
the  prose  Edda  of  Snorri  Sturlason,  and  under  the 
heading  Gylfaginning,  as  before  mentioned,  but  it 
is  rather  too  extensive  to  quote.  In  the  remaining 
literature  of  the  Eddas  there  are  also  a  few  other 
references  to  the  creation  of  the  world  and  the 


Mm 


178 


CuaMOGONY  AND  COSMOLOGY  (Teutonic) 


origin  of  things,  and  these,  together  with  the  two 
main  sources  just  mentioned,  otter  the  following 
oomposite  view  of  the  Teutonic  cosmogony. 

Ginnungagap  was  limited  to  the  north  by  the 
cold  and  frosty  region  called  Niflheim,  and  to  the 
south  by  MuspellsYieim,  with  its  tire  and  burning 
heat.  In  Ginnungagap  itself  the  cold  from 
Niflheim,  carried  along  by  the  twelve  poisonous 
rivers,  the  Elivagar  from  the  fountain  Hvergelmir 
in  the  lowest  deeps  of  the  abyss,  met  the  heat  from 
Miispellsheim,  resulting  in  the  first  development  of 
life,  which  took  form  in  a  being  similar  to  a  man 
and  called  Ymir,  who  was  of  immense  sine  and 
became  the  progenitor  of  the  giants. 

Along  with  Ymir  there  arose  from  the  same 
union  of  cold  and  heat  a  monstrous  oow  called 
Audhumla— an  original  conception,  it  seems,  and 
as  such  the  fructifying  power.  With  her  milk  she 
sustained  Ymir,  while  she  herself  fed  from  the 
salty  stones  in  Ginnungagap,  which  she  licked. 
From  her  contact  with  the  salty  stones  there  grew 
forth  another  being  called  Buri,  who  united  with 
Ymir's  daughter  Bestla,  a  sister  of  Mimir,  the 
water-demon.  By  Bestla,  Buri  had  a  son  Bor,  who 
became  the  father  of  Odin,  Vili,  and  Ve.  Of  these 
Odin  was  the  greatest,  and  as  such  he  is  sometimes 
called  the  father  of  the  gods.  Odin  and  his 
brethren  finally  killed  Ymir,  drowning  in  his  own 
blood  his  entire  progeny,  the  giants,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Bergelmir,  who  escaped,  and,  in  his 
turn,  now  became  the  father  of  a  new  race  of 
giants.  With  Ymir's  body  the  gods  filled  the 
awful  and  dark  abyss,  Ginnungagap,  and  there 
made  the  world.  From  Ymir's  flesh  they  formed 
the  earth ;  from  his  blood  the  rivers,  lakes,  and 
seas  ;  from  his  teeth  and  smaller  bones  they  made 
the  rocks  and  pebbles  ;  while  from  the  larger  bones 
they  formed  the  mountains.  With  his  eyebrows 
they  surrounded  this  new-made  earth,  and  called 
it  Midhgardh,  outside  of  which  there  was  the  ocean 
—the  whole  being  now  overtopped  by  heaven, 
which  was  made  out  of  Ymir's  skull  and  illumi- 
nated with  sparks  from  Miispellsheim  itself.  From 
the  giant's  brains  the  gods  made  the  flying  clouds 
and  the  mists. 

The  next  creative  act  of  the  Aesir,  or  high  gods, 
was  the  making  of  man.  Originally  he  was  made 
into  a  pair  from  the  mystic  trees  Ask  and  Embla, 
which  the  sons  of  Bor  found  on  the  seacoast, 
when  one  day  they  were  walking  there.  To 
these  new-made  beings  Odin  himself  gave  life, 
Hoenir  understanding,  and  L6dhur  the  blood  and 
the  lower  senses,  placing  all  this  in  a  most  beautiful 
form.  Of  man  in  his  original  state  we  noted  the 
following  from  the  Viluspd:  'Spirit  they  pos- 
sessed not,  sense  they  had  not,  nor  blood,  nor 
motive  powers,  nor  goodly  colour ;  spirit  gave  Odin, 
sense  gave  Hoenir,  blood  gave  Lodhur,  and  goodly 
colour.'  It  should  be  remarked  that  Hoenir  and 
L6dhur  are  identical  with  Ve  and  Vili. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  dwarfs  made  another  class 
of  beings  with  which  men  always  had  to  contend, 
and  who  probably  represent  a  later  stage  in  the 
forming  of  the  Teutonic  myths,  caused,  perhaps, 
by  the  resistance  of  an  earlier  race  to  the  coming 
invaders.  These  dwarfs  constituted  a  hostile 
power  of  great  number,  and  are  mentioned  at 
many  P}aces  in  the  Eddas  and  in  the  earlier  Ice- 
landic literature. 

From  the  account  of  the  creation  of  man  we  have 
seen  that  trees  have  had  a  prominent  place  in  the 
Teutonic  mind  from  the  very  beginning.  Most  im- 
portant of  these  trees  was  the  great  ash  Yggdrasil, 
which  was  the  life-tree,  the  tree  of  cosmic  unity 
and  of  all  existence,  spreading  its  branches  out 
over  the  whole  world,  and  reaching  with  its  top 
even  to  the  abode  of  the  gods,  while  sending  its 
roots  under  the  world  in  order  to  support  it.     Of 


these  roots,  one  goes  to  Niflheim,  where  it  is 
constantly  gnawed  by  the  subterranean  serpent 
NldhOgg  in  order  to  destroy  the  tree  and  the  world  ; 
the  second  root  stretches  to  the  region  of  the 
giants,  where  it  enters  the  spring  of  Mimir,  the 
great  ruler  of  the  nether  world  and  the  keeper  of 
the  tree  itself.  From  this  spring  even  Odin  has  to 
draw  his  wisdom.  The  third  root  reaches  to  the 
home  of  the  gods  themselves,  from  under  which  the 
sacred  spring  of  Urd  has  its  place,  and  whence 
the  Norns,  the  sole  arbiters  of  all  human  destinies, 
constantly  scoop  water  to  pour  over  the  great  ash, 
so  as  not  to  allow  it  to  wither.  But,  notwith- 
standing all  this  care,  there  will  come  a  time  when 
the  great  tree  will  lose  some  of  its  leaves  and 
branches,  and  then  it  will  begin  to  groan.  This 
will  be  the  signal  of  Kagnarbk,  or  the  end  of  the 
present  condition  of  the  world.  Now  the  final 
struggle  between  the  gods  and  the  giants,  between 
good  and  evil,  shall  be  fought,  when  evil  vili  be 
for  ever  vanquished.  After  this  the  Yggdrasil  will 
flourish  as  never  before,  and  there  shall  be  a  new 
age,  with  a  new  earth,  in  which  the  hosts  of  the 
righteous  shall  dwell  for  ever  in  perfect  bliss. 

This  is  as  nearly  as  possible  an  objective  state- 
ment of  the  views  of  the  early  Teutons  as  regards 
the  beginning  of  the  world.  But  no  one  can  tell 
whether  these  beliefs  were  not  preceded  by  others 
of  a  more  rude  and  simple  character.  This  view 
seems  probable  to  the  present  writer.  But,  as 
the  examination  of  this  hypothesis  would  lead  as 
into  the  altogether  uncertain,  we  shall  have  to 
rest  satisfied  with  the  matter  we  have  in  hand,  and 
congratulate  ourselves  that  we  have  so  much. 
Perhaps  its  philosophy  may  be  summed  up  as 
follows.  The  early  Teutons  believed  in  a  pre- 
existing substance  in  a  completely  chaotic  state, 
out  of  which,  through  the  incompatible  forces  of 
cold  and  heat,  there  arose  the  primitive  forms  of 
life,  endowed  from  the  beginning  with  reproductive 
power.  In  this  early  state  only  the  most  monstrous 
beings  were  ■  produced — beings  like  Ymir  and  his 
race,  the  giants.  In  the  generating  forces  of  the 
cow  Audhumla,  as  well  as  in  the  two  trees  Ask 
and  Embla,  we  meet  new  factors  of  organization, 
forming  gods  and  men,  which  have  a  very  near 
relationship.  These  are  not  generated  outside  of 
Nature,  but  within  it,  and  are  thus  dependent  upon 
it.  Hence  it  follows  that  even  the  gods  themselvei 
are  temporal  a  parte  ante,  and  not  eternal.  Un 
doubtedly  this  was  the  early  idea  of  the  Teutonio 
race  as  regards  the  superior  powers  in  which  it 
believed.  Furthermore,  the  gods  are  not  real 
creators,  hut  organizers  forming  the  desirable 
objects  ont  of  pre-existing  elements,  which  may 
have  been  considered  as  eternal.  The  gods  may 
be  said  to  have  been  generated  from  Nature,  while 
man  is  the  work  of  these  gods  through  Nature,  and 
they  all  in  common  have  to  conqner  their  baser 
instincts  in  order  to  remain  free  from  trouble  and 
curse.  It  is  along  these  lines  that  the  world  itself, 
considered  as  a  whole,  will  proceed  until,  after  a 
final  struggle,  the  new  world,  with  its  new  con- 
ditions of  happiness  and  bliss,  shall  be  ushered  in. 

Such  is  the  story  of  the  cosmogony  of  the  Teutons 
contained  in  some  of  the  most  sublime  poetry  of 
ancient  literature.  Few  will  doubt  that  it  has,  at 
least  in  a  measure,  been  influenced  by  early  inedi- 
asval  Christianity,  as  Meyer  and  Bugge,  together 
with  many  others,  have  proved ;  but  none  will 
deny  that  in  these  Icelandic  lays  we  possess  the 
essential  strata  of  genuine  Teutonic  belief. 

LlTBRATURi. — The  Poetic  or  Scemundar  Edda,  crit.  ed.  by  3. 
Bugge,  Chriatiania,  1867,  Eng.  tr.  by  Benjamin  Thorpe,  London, 
1866,  literal  tr.  in  Vigtusson'8  Corpus  Poeticum  Bortaie,  Oxford, 
1883  ;  the  Snorra  Edda,  ed.  Copenhagen,  1848-87,  partial  Eng.  tr. 
by  I.  A.  Blackwell,  in  Northern  Antiquities,  London,  1847,  and  by 
R.  B.  Anderson,  Chicago,  1880 ;  K.  Blind,  '  The  Teutonic  Tree 
of  Existence,'  Fraier't   Magazine,    1887;    P.   D.   Chantepi* 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Buddhist) 


179 


de  1*  SaassAye,  h  ■  I.  <?/  tk*  Teutons,  u.  Boston  and  London,  ! 
1902 ;  S.  Bog  ge,  Stndier  ocer  dc  n&rdiske  Gude-  og  lletiesajns  j 
Oprindetm,  L-ii..  Christiania,  1SS1-1SS9,  Germ.  tr.  bv  O.  Brenner,  j 
Munich,  1889  (Eng.  tr.  of  vol.  ii.  under  lb*  title  The  Home  of  , 
the  Eddie  Poems*  London,  1899) ;  J.  Dannesteter,  *  Lea  Coa-  i 
mogonies  aryennes,'  in  Essois  orientaux,  Paris,  1S83 ;  C  F.  I 
Keary^Outfirut  o/  Primitive  Belief,  London.  1882  ;  A.  V.  Ryd-  ; 
berg,  PSdernas  gadasaga*,  Stockholm,  1898,  also  Germanxsk  t 
Mythclagi.  L-it.,  Stockholm,  1SSS-I8S9  (Eng.  tr.  of  rol.  iL  by 
R.  B,  Anderson  for  the  NorroenA  LiDrary,  London,  1906  fl.) ;  • 
W.  Goltber,  German-  Mythclcgie^  Leipzig,  18S5,  pp.  501 -&43  ;  [ 
J.  Grimm,  Deutsche  ilythotogi* «,  Berlin,  1ST5  ;  E.  H.  Meyer,  | 
Foiuspd,  Berlin,  1889  (this  work  haa  a  good  list  of  references  to  j 
aovrrces,  literature,  and  commentaries),  also  Die  eddische  Kosmo- 
gorae,  Freih.  1891;  K.  Wtillenhoff,  Deutsche  Atter?umtbvnds, 
ML  t.  (by  H.  Geriog,  *  Die  Edd*/  Berlin,  1392) ;  £.  M  ogk.  Gev  I 


man.  Hythologie,  Leipzig,  1906;  H.  Paul,  Grundris*  d.  germ 
PhiL  iii.3,  Stnssbnnr,  1S96-1900  ;  H.  Petersen,  Om  fiord 
boernes  rrudedyrkeise,  Copenhagen,  la76 :  K.  Simrock,  Hand- 
bucA  <L~  dsutscken  M ythologie «,  Bonn,  lbS7,  H  6-63;  F. 
Kanfrmann,  Deutsche  Mytholofjie'*,  Leipzig.  1398;  Paul  Herr- 
mann, 2iordische  Mythologie,  Leipzig,  r>  3  ;  H.  Schiick,  *  Svensk 
godatro  onder  hednatiden,'  Finsk  Tidskrift,  IcSd  ;  cf.  also  T. 
MSbius,  Caialogus  Liarorum,  Leipzig,  1356,  also  his  Yerzeieh- 
nits,  Leipzig,  I860. 

Darmestec-er,  Rrdberg,  and  Grimm  belong  to  the  'con- 
serrative'  school,  while  Mogk  and  Meyer  are  rery  critical  with 
reference  to  the  contents  in  much  of  the  Icelandic  literature, 
particularly  In  Voiurpd  and  the  Snerra  fidda  .  Golther  occupies 
a  sort  of  intermediate  ground;  Mullenhoff  is  generally  considered 
a  rery  s&fe  guide  and  a  good  authority  . 

S.  G.  Youngest. 


COUNCILS    AND    SYNODS 


Ni 


Buddhist  (L  dk  la  Vaiaeb  Poussrs),  p.  179. 
Christian — 

Early  (D.  Stose),  p.  135. 

COUNCILS  (Bnddhist).— 

Before  giving  m  short  survey  of  the  traditions  relative  to  the 
Buddhist  Councils,  it  seems  advisable  to  state  That  these 
Councils  were.     While  it  is  impossible  to  accept  the  Bnddhist 

union,  which  views  them  as  ecmrjeniesl  assemblies  after  the 
leene  type,  it  is  at  the  same  time  necessary  to  exphun  how 
Bnddhist  monastic  life,  withont  the  berp  of  such  solemn  assem- 
blies, nevertheless  resulted  in  a  sort  of  'eatboneisrn,'  and 
secured  the  redaction  and  the  compilation  of  Canons  of  scrip- 
tures very  like  one  another.  The  problem  of  the  origin  arid 
character  of  the  early  sects  cannot  be  evaded,  for  sectarianism 
i*  as  old  as  Catholicism  in  the  Bnddhist  world ;  and  Councils 
are  said  to  have  been  herd  by  the  'orthodox'  to  impugn 
ap  Liil^jit^w,  and  by  the  'heterodox'  to  define  their  own 
peculiar  teneta.  As  the  history  of  the  Canons  and  of  the  Sects 
will  be  dealt  with  dserrhere,  we  ahsil  say  here  only  what  is 
necessary  to  avoid  misleading  ideas  about  the  Councils,  and  to 
justify  our  half-conservatrre,  half-critical  position. 

I.  COUNCILS,  C AXONS,  AND  SECTS.— The  pro- 
fessed  dogma  of  the  Buddhists  of  the  post-canonic 
ages  is  that  Councils  were  solemn  synods  of  Saints, 
where yuasi-ornniscient and  sinless  old  men  (arhatt, 
tthaviras)  gathered  in  order  to  rehearse,  to  '  chant 
together'  (sarurJrt),  the  Word  of  Buddha  (First 
CoTmcil),  or  to  re-state  it  against  tie  heretical 
views  of  innovators  (Second  and  Third  Councils),  I 
or  to  approve  the  addition  of  new  treatises  to  the  i 
sacred  Tore,  or  to  give  anthoritativeaess  to  some 
theory  of  exegesis  (Third  Council  and  Kaniska's 
Counci]). 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  that,  as 
regards  the  Fust  Council,  the  ecclesiastical  dogma 
is  untenable.  No  European  would  admit  the 
'  authenticity '  of  the  whole  Pali  scriptures  ;  and 
— without  troubling  to  refer  to  a  number  of 
specious  arguments — in  presence  of  such  facts  as 
are  adduced  by  Rhys  Davids  (Buddhist  India, 
London,  190S,  p.  176)  or  R.  O.  Franke  ('  Buddhist 
Councils '  in  JTTS,  1908,  p.  8),  the  relative  lateness 
of  a  great  or  the  greater  part  of  the  Nilcayas  them- 
selves is  evident  (see  below,  on  the  later  Councils). 
But  it  is  safe  to  believe  with  Kem,  whose  critical 
methods  are  by  no  means  nncautious,  that  there 
have  been  '  synods '  ( '  Qu'il  y  ait  en  des  synod es, 
personne  ne  Ie  nie '  {Ge-tchiedenis,  ii  265]).  Upani- 
sads  as  well  as  Sutt&ntas  furnish  many  evidences 
of  the  habit  of  discussing  doctrinal  matters.1  We 
shall  venture  to  add  (1)  that  Councils  were  some- 
times legal  sessions,  of  the  type  approved  of  in  the 
Pali  Vinaya.  held  by  the  parochial  or  diocesan 
(or  even  polydiocesan)  clergy,  i.e.  a  sangha,  in 
order  to  inquire  into  accusations  brought  against  a 
monk  or  group  of  monks  (First  Council,  ordeal  of 
Ananda  [if  it  be  historical],  Second  Council,  on  the 
ten  extra-allowances  of  the  monks  of  Vaisali) ; 
(2)  that  heretical  views,  co  less  than  extra-legal 
practices,  may  have  been  a  matter  of  scandal,  of 
inquiry,  of  doctrinal  appreciation  by  the  ■mi-disant 
supporters  of  tradition  (Council  on  the  Five  Points 

*  Bee,  for  instance,  IHgha,  L  173  ;  linys  Davida,  Diaioavet  of 
As  BuddAa,  L,  Oxford,  1S»,  p.  t**.  n.  t  ^^ 


ChristJa- 

Mediaeval  (D.  S.  Schaff).  p.  193. 
Modern  (H.  Thurston),  p.  197. 

of  Mahadeva?) — there  was  on  some  occasions  at 
least  more  or  less  formal  'consensus'  of  the  con- 
tending parties  ;  (3)  that,  possibly — we  dare  not 
say  probably,  for  no  human  being  knows  anything 
about  it,  and  *  probably '  would  be  misleading 
where  no  appreciation  of  probability  is  possible^ — 
immediately  after  the  death  of  the  Master,  some 
of  his  disciples,  headed  by  Upali  or  Ananda  or 
Kasyapa,  tried  to  ascertain  at  least  a  list  of  his 
authentic  sermons  and  teachings ;  they  agreed,  let 
ns  say,  on  the  technical  'phrases'  which  are  the 
oldest  form  of  the  Pratimokm  (cf.  Mahaiyutpatti, 
§256ff.),  on  the  wording  of  the  Benares  sermon, 
etc  ;  (4)  that  kings  of  old  concerned  themselves 
with  ecclesiastical  affairs,  as  did  kings  of  later 
times' — synods  and  doctrinal  disputations,  usual 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  as  we  are  told  in  many 
sources,*  may  sometimes  have  acquired  special 
importance,  owing  to  royal  intervention  (Asoka, 
Kaniska?);  (5)  that  some  monasteries  (and  in 
early  times  there  were  huge  monasteries)  were 
like  permanent  councils.  Their  '  living  libraries ' 
became  Canons  ;  for  the  canonic  shape  which  the 
Word  of  Buddha  (bitdcthapravachavst)  received  at 
last,  when  Word  became  Scripture,  had  been  for  a 
very  long  time  foreshadowed  by  the  oral  and 
mnemonic  distribution  of  the  Word  into  several 
Baskets  {Pitaias)  and  Collections  (Hikayas).* 

Real  synods,  regional  or  local,  vrooid  have  furnished  Buddhists 
with  the  idea  of  primitive  and  catholic  Councils,  if  the 
immemorial  custom  of  conversing  on  the  La'~  bad  not  early 
evolved  this  very  idea,  and  if  the  sectarian  spirf  bad  not  given 
to  it  a  special  importance  :  '  Our  Scriptures  art;'  ,'he  Word  of 
Buddha,  for  they  have  been  authenticated  by  sinless  and  divine- 
eyed  witnesses." 

But,  while  acknowledging  the  possibility  (even 
the  probability)  of  synods,  we  are  at  no  loss  to 
point  out  more  certain  and  farther  reaching  causes 
of  the  facts  to  be  explained,  viz.  the  formation  of 
the  body  of  the  Scriptures,  the  general  (if  not 
strict)  '  consensus '  of  the  sects  of  the  Hinayana  as 
concerns  Buddha's  teaching,  and,  conversely,  the 
splitting  of  the  Order  into  sects. 

If  one  eanepta  the  division  of  the  clergy  named  drangralru, 
'forest  men,'  or pratye kahuddhas,  'those  who  leave  the  world 
to  live  as  the  saints  of  old'  irriprarraJT/d  [see  Poussin.  Bo^td- 
dhiSTne,  1909,  p.  355,  and  art.  TavtrasI),  Buddhist  monks  have 
never  been  hermits,  '  rhinoceros-like '  solitaries.  A  novitiate 
sr>called,  and  often  pro  longed  apprenticeship,  study,  and  service 
at  the  feet  of  the  preceptor,  fortnightly  confession,  crenobitic 
life,  and  prolonged  living  together  during  the  rainy  season 


1  We  may  cite  As^ka's  Bfcabra  Edict  and  Pillar  inscriution  at 
Sarnath  (V.  A.  Smith.  Early  Hitt,yry  of  India-.  Oxford,  I90S, 
p.  15P);  also  (possiblv)his  Edict  on  the  Quinquennial  Assembly 
(Fourth  Rock  Edict  [V.  A.  Smith,  Asota,  Oxford,  1901.  p. 
116;  Kem,  Manual.  101D;  on  the  assemblies  convoked  by 
Harsa,  see  V.  A.  Smith,  Early  Bittory,  p.  322  ;  Kern,  Ix.  at., 
and  Gisehitdenis,  ii.  ?20. 

*  For  instance,  Tiranatha  (GasehieAte  d'3  B'iddhismu*  ta 
Indicn,  tr.  Sch.efner,  1369),  H.uen  Tsiang  (LudAhiat  Rt~-rdl  •/ 
tkt  Western  World,  tr.  Beal,  1SS4). 

3  On  the  oral  transmission  of  the  VinayOM,  see  Fa-hieo,  xxxtL 


'mmf^i 


180 


COUiMCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Buddhist) 


were  designed  to  prevent  the  admission  or  heterogeneous 
elements  or  to  lead  to  their  expulsion.!  True  Buddhist  llfo 
was  Bocured  in  every  monastery,  and  the  itinerant,  hablti? 
which  led  the  Brethren  from  their  aboriginal  country  to  tho 
furthest  monasteries  of  the  'Universal  Church'  rHl.ahHtthud 
Btroug  ties  between  the  fraternities.  Thus,  the  •<nm  ol  8&Uya 
■  constitute  only  one  family  'held  together  (not)  merely  through 
their  common  reverence  for  their  master,  and  through  a 
common  spiritual  aim/  8  but  by  frequent  mberomirs*  and  a 
common  lour  of  deviating  from  Buddha's  prantloe.  Rival 
orders,  whether  Jain  or  Brahman,  were  a  danger  to  orthodoxy, 
although  they  were  alBO  a  cauBQ  of  It. 

There  are  no  bishops  in  the  Hiidilhlut  Order,  nor 
oven  abbots  in  monasteries  (viluiratt)  (  tlmro  wan 
no  monk  entitled  by  the  ftuddba  hlttlftulf.  or  by  tlio 
Church,  or  by  '  Kldeis  in  nuiuber'  (n<ttuhahnl<i),  to 
be  tho  'protection'  (pa(isarai}&)  of  Iilw  brothers.4 
Nevertheless,  the  pronent  writer  In  now  inclined 
to  believe  that  BuddhUui  contains  more  of  a  hier- 
archy than  Olden  berg  (Buddha9,  p.  d\)&m&ouddha?f 
p.  333)  and  he  himself  (BoudUhtsme,  Paris,  1909, 
p.  335)  have  hitherto  been  willing  to  admit. 

The  '  ecclesiastical  ago,1  the  number  of  years 
elapsed  since  the  admission  into  the  Order,  and 
the  'sanctity*  (arhat-shln),  the  number  of  years 
elapsed  since  the  acquisition  of  the  passionleBsness 
of  an  arhat,  are  tho  principle  of  a  hierarchy— not 
a  constraining,  but  a  very  effectual  one.  The  rule 
of  addressing  an  '  elder  in  religious  life '  by  a  special 
title,  bhantCt  'venerable,'  instead  of  using  the 
primitive  and  levelling  dvuno,  'friend,'  is  attri- 
buted to  the  dying  Uuddhaj  it  was  enforced  at 
an  early  epoch,  though  not  at  the  very  beginning.6 
Arhats  were  jealous  of  their  privileges ;  they  re- 
garded it  as  a  very  grave  crime  unduly  to  claim 

l  As  too  often  happens  In  such  obuoure  fields,  our  documents 
are  double -*dgn  J,  and  one  oau  use  them  to  demonstrate  con- 
flicting theories — original  'orthodoxy'  as  well  as  original 
'aiK-.ic.hv.'    For  instance,  we  are  told  of  monks  'who  had  no 

fireceptors  and  received  no  exhortation  or  Instruction,'  wearing 
mpro per  garments,  eating  improper  food  .  .  .  (Mahavagga,  i. 
86,  in  SBE  xill.  [' Vinaya  Texts/ pt.  I.]  161);  of  'a certain  monk, 
who  had  formerly  belonged  to  a  non-Buddhist  school,  silencing 
his  preceptor  by  reasoning,  and  going  back  to  that  same  non- 
Buddhist  school  '(to.  i.  81.  8).  Even  old  monks  return  to  the 
world  or  go  over  to  a  (schismatic)  faction  (to.  i.  86.  1).  There 
are  monks  who  forbid  novices  the  use  of  all  food  that  Is  taken 
with  the  mouth  (ib.  i.  67.  S).  Relations  with  non-Buddhist 
devotees  are  forbidden  {Pack.  41).  The  ja^Uas,  or  ascetics 
with  matted  hair,  are  said  to  have  thrown  their  hair  and  their 
sacrificial  utensils  Into  the  river  when  Buddha  converted  them  ; 
nevertheless,  the  phrase  natthi  hutam,  '  oblations  to  fire  are 
of  no  use,'  1b  with  the  Buddhists  a  heretical  tenet  (mithpadrtfi), 
just  as  It  was  probably  with  the  jafilas.  It  is  not  held  as 
absurd  and  impossible  that  a  monk,  when  at  the  half  month 
the  Pdtiinokkha  ('  Book  of  Confession ')  is  being  recited,  should 
say  :  'Now  for  the  first  time  do  I  notice  that  this  rule,  they 
say.  is  handed  down  in  the  Suttas  .  .  . '  (Pooh,  73).  Nay,  we 
find  the  case  discussed  of  not  a  single  monk,  among  all  the 
Brethren  dwelling  in  some  particular  place,  knowing;  the 
Pdtimokkha  (Mahavagga,  ii.  17.  6  [SBE  xiii.  p.  xxxivj),  but 
this  would  prove  far  too  much.  It  sometimes  happens  that  the 
sinful  monks  are  strong,  and  the  pious  monks  feeble  ;  these 
last  are  dejected,  forced  to  silence  in  the  uahgha,  and  go  away 
to  another  country  (Anguttara,  1.  68). 

All  these  testimonies,  and  many  others,  e.g.  the  dishonest 
method  of  securing  concord  and  orthodoxy  by  manipulation  of 
the  votes  (Oldenberg,  Buddha?,  p.  S98=Bouddha3  [tr.  Foucher], 
p.  336;  Chuilavagga,  iv.  14,  26,  in  SBE  xx.  ['Vinaya  Texts,' 
pt.  Hi.]  56),  establish  at  the  same  time:  (1)  that  there  are 
germs  of  division,  and  no  small  danger  of  the  Order's  losing  its 
originality  ;  (2)  that,  conversely,  there  is  a  catholic  and  tradi- 
tional spirit,  asserting  itself  in  the  rules  of  excommunication, 
etc.  That  this  spirit  gained  the  upper  hand  is  sufficiently 
proved  by  the  history  of  the  Church,  the  constitution  of 
Canons,  etc.  But  the  same  history  (growth  of  MahasaAgha, 
Lokottaravada,  Mahay&na,  Tan  tray  ana)  confirms  the  view  that 
there  has  always  been  a  Buddhism  du  dehors,  a  heretical, 
popular  Buddhism,  which  later  gained  the  predominance. 

a  See  Minayeff,  Recherches  eur  le  boudahismc,  ch.  v.,  esp. 
p.  116  ff. ;  cf.  S.  Levi,  'Saintes  ecritures  du  Bouddhisme/ 
Conferences  faites  auMuste  Guimet,  AMG  Bibl.  de  vulgarisa- 
tion, xxxi.  (1909)  125. 

8  SBE  xiii.  p.  xii ;  see  Poussin,  Museon,  1905,  p.  811. 

*  Maijhima,  iii.  8  ;  reference  in  Oldenberg,  Buddha*,  p.  397  = 
BouddKaV,  p.  335. 

&  On  this  point,  see  R.  O.  Franke,  JPTS,  1908,  p.  18  f.  His 
Inquiry  shows  how  much  light  can  be  derived  from  a  careful 
comparison  of  texts.  It  establishes  the  fact  that  'in  the  older 
canonical  texts  there  appears  a  certain  customary  mode  of 
address,  different  from  that  prescribed  for  the  future  by  the 
Buddha.'  Here,  again,  one  may  urge  that  the  doctrine  of  the 
'elderness'  is  not  primitive. 


arhat  nbip ;  they  considered  themselves  an  the 
npiritual  aristocracy  of  the  Church,  the  universal 
saiujha  (cf.  Urn  legend  of  the  judgment  of  Ananda).1 
There  are  not  only  Khlers  (tfwra),  but  '  Older 
Killers'  (theratfira  =  nptajiOrepos,  t/terachirajjubba- 
jit  a),  ami  *  tho  oJdcst  Klder  on  earth*  (pathuvya 
tarty  fiat  hera}  :a  and  those  old  monks  are  styled 
'  fathers  of  the  Church,'  'Leaders  of  the  Church* 
(ftahf/fvipitaro,  aahyktipurin&yaka).* 

Thus  wus  evolved  the  idea  of  Patriarchs,  vinayapdmukkhu, 
'  chiefs  of  discipline,'  ur  dcharyas,  '  Masters/  who  are  supposed 
by  tho  Sinhalese  and  the  Northern  Buddhists  to  have  success- 
ively controlled  the  universal  Church.  Oldenberg  rightly 
observes  that  thiB  idea  of  Patriarchs  is  foreign  to  the  canonical 
literature  ;  but  we  are  told  In  Diyha,  ii.  I24f  that  such  and 
such  a  gahgha  possesses  theraa  and  pdmokkfias.* 

The  feeling  of  the  unity  of  the  Order,  and  the 
Tactual  striving  to  promote  or  to  restore  this  unity, 
asoert  themselves  in  the  sermons  of  Buddha  on 
'schism'  (sahghabheda),6  the  most  hateful  crime, 
in  punishment  of  which  an  eternity  (kappa,  '  age 
of  the  world')  of  suffering  is  hardly  sufficient!* 
In  some  cases  Buddha  goes  so  far  as  to  forbid  the 
re-ordination  of  monks  who  have  turned  away  to 
schism  (or  who  have  followed  schismatics).7 

But  we  ought  to  be  aware  that  these  sermons 
contain  a  lesson  to  the  '  rigorists,'  or  conseirative 
party,  as  well  as  to  fosterers  of  division. 

The  following  is  reported  to  Buddha :  *  A  certain  monk,  Lord, 
had  committed  an  offence  which  he  considered  as  an  offence, 
while  the  other  monks  considered  that  offence  as  no  offence. 
Afterwards  be  begun  to  cousider  that  offence  as  no  offence, 
and  the  other  monks  began  to  consider  that  offence  as  an 
offence.  .  .  .  Then  those  monks  .  .  .  pronounced  expulsion 
against  that  monk  for  his  refusal  to  see  that  offence.  ...  Then 
that  monk  got  his  companions  and  friends  among  the  monks  on 
his  side,  and  sent  a  messenger  to  bis  companions  and  friends 
among  the  monksof  the  whole  country.  .  .  .  And  the  partisans 
of  the  expelled  monk  .  .  .  persevered  on  the  side  of  that 
expelled  monk  and  followed  him  .  .  .'  Buddha  piteously 
exclaims  :  'The  eafigha  is  divided!  The  saftgha  is  divided  1' 
but  he  has  words  of  rebuke  for  the  '  expellers  ' :  *  Do  not  think, 
O  monks,  that  you  are  to  pronounce  expulsion  against  a  monk 
for  tii is  or  that,  saying  :  "  It  occurs  to  us  to  do  so."  '° 

One  has  to  distinguish  between  what  is  really 
important  and  what  is  not  worth  disputing. 
Pdtimokkha,  the  essential  rule  of  the  Order,  and 
Dhamma,  the  essential  doctrine  leading  to  salvation 

1  In  Mahay&na,  eangha  =■  bodhisaiivagana,  *  the  cohort  of 
the  celestial  Bodhisattvas'  (Santideva's  Bodhicharydvatdra, 
Com.  ii.  st.  1).  In  the  later  Hiuayana,  sanoAa  =  ehaXt dro 
purisayugd,  the  four  owners  of,  and  the  four  candidates  for, 
the  fruits  of  aotdpanna  .  .  .  arhat  (Kathdvatthu,  Com.  p.  32, 
MadhyojaaJtavrUi,  p.  478).  This  idea  that  saints  (or  quasi- 
saints)  only  are  real  members  of  the  taagha  Is  visible  in  Saih- 
yutta,  i.  233 :  chattdro  cha  pufipatt/id  chatldro  cha  phale 
ihitd  eta  sahgho  ujubhuto,  and  also  in  the  history  of  Councils 
(Chuilavagga,  xi.t  xii.);  see  discussion  In  Kathdvatthu,  xvii.  6. 

2  Chuilavagga,  xii. 

3  Ingha,  ii.  77  (^  SBE  xi.  6):  'So  long  as  the  brethren 
honour  and  esteem  and  revere  and  support  the  elders  of 
experience  and  long  standing,  the  fathers  and  leaders  of  the 
order,  and  hold  it  a  point  of  duty  to  hearken  to  their  words,' 
etc.  (We  have  objections  to  the  translation  '  of  the  order,' 
and  prefer  'of  the  fraternities,  of  the  parishes.')  Here,  again, 
the  text  shows  that  disrespect  towards  Elders  was  not  im- 
possible.   Cf.  the  Vai&ali  legend. 

*  See  Buddha*,  393(=  Bouddha*,  836),  reference  to  Dipavarhia, 
v.,  Parivdra,  3 ;  Kern,  ii.  291 ;  SamantapdsddJcd,  292  (Vinaya- 
pilakam,  vol.  iii.  [1381]).  See  also,  on  the  '  .Northern  '  Patriarchs, 
Kern,  Geschiedenis,  i.  215. 

o  There  are  a  number  of  synonyms,  or  otuui-synonyms,  which 
are  translated  as. follows:  'altercations,  contentions,  discord, 
quarrels,  divisions  *  among  the  uahgha  (bheda),  disunion  among 
the  sahgha  (vajt),  separations  among  the  suiigha  (■oaoatthdna), 
schiBm  among  the  saiigha(uandkaraj}a  ;  SBE  xvii.  233).  There 
is 'disunion,' when  the  number  of  disputing  monks  does  not 
exceed  eight ;  'schism,'  when  they  are  nine  or  more  (phulla. 
vagua).  It  must  be  observed  that  the  Vinaya  has  in  view  dis- 
putes in  a  parish  ;  but  it  states  that  '  expelled '  monks  search 
for  partisans  *  in  the  whole  country*  (janapada),  and  that 
'expellers'  give  notice  abroad  of  the  expulsion.  The  Abhi- 
dharmakotia  distinguishes  between  common  satlghabheda  and 
chakrabheda('t),  which  is  the  real  safighabheda  ;  it  adds  that 
bheda  supposes  in  the  'schismatic'  (bheitar)  the  folly  of  believ- 
ing oneself  a  *  Master  '  (idstar),  like  Buddha. 

8  Itivuttaka,  %  IS  =  Afiguttara,  v.  76=  Kathdvatthu,  xiii.  1  = 
Parivdra,  xvii.  73  =  Chuilavagga,  viL  6.  4.  [We  are  indebted 
for  these  references  to  Prof.  R.  O.  Franke.  J 

7  See  Chuilavagga,  vii.  6.  4  ;  hut  ct.  the  whole  paragraph. 

8  Mahavagga,  x,  1;  the  translators  of  '  Vinaya  Texts  (SBB 
xvii.  ?37)  have  :  '  expulsion  against  a  bhikkhu  whatever  be  the 
facts  of  the  case  .  .  . '  (yatmirn  vd  toitmiin  rd). 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Buddhist) 


181 


— these  are  important ;  and  happily  '  there  are 
not,'  Ananda  says  to  Buddha,  '  two  monks  who 
differ  concerning  the  Eightfold  Path,  the  Four 
Efforts,'  etc.1  There  are  also  Adhipatimokkha, 
Ajjhafiva,  and  Abhidhamma,  suhtleties  or  refine- 
ments or  niceties  concerning  monastic  life  and 
doctrine,  but  these  are  mere  trifles. 

When  two  monks  differ  (or  believe  that  they  differ)  on 
Abhidhamma,  one  has  to  content  oneself  with  the  mere  state- 
ment of  facts :  '  You  differ  concerning  the  meaning  and  the 
letter  [of  a  Sutra] ;  well,  do  acknowledge  that  you  differ,  and 
do  not  dispute  thereof.'  2 

Again,  '  orthodoxy  '  has  two  aspects  :  not  to  rest 
content  with  'unreliable'  evidences  (see  below), 
and  not  to  impugn  systematically  received  opin- 
ions :  '  Whatsoever  monk  .  .  .  shall  speak  thus : 
"I  cannot  submit  myself  to  that  precept,  brother, 
until  I  shall  have  inquired  touching  it  of  another 
monk,  an  experienced  master  of  the  Discipline," 
that  is  a  Pachittiya,  a  fault  requiring  repentance ' 
(Pack.  71). 

The  principle  of  the  dchity^a  at  once  occurs  to  us,  according 
to  which  '  it  is  allowable  to  do  a  thing  on  the  ground  that  "  my 
preceptor,  my  teacher,  has  practised  this  or  that " ' :  this 
principle,  acknowledged  in  Brahman  circles,  was  maintained  by 
some  Buddhists,  the  heretics  of  Vaisali  (Chullavagga,  xii.  2,  8) ; 
and  it  was  to  some  extent  agreed  to  by  the  orthodox,  for  we 
are  told  that,  when  the  First  Council  was  just  concluded,  there 
came  a  celebrated  monk,  Purana,  with  his  500  disciples,  who 
refused  to  adhere  to  the  resolutions  of  the  Council:  'The 
doctrine  and  the  disciplinary  rule  have  been  well  sung  by  the 
Elders  ;  nevertheless,  even  in  such  manner  as  it  has  been  heard 
by  me,  and  received  by  me  from  the  very  mouth  of  the  Blessed 
One,  in  that  manner  will  I  bear  it  in  my  memory.'  Neither  the 
Elders  nor  the  pious  writer  have  a  word  of  rebuke  for  this 
individualism  (Chullavagga,  xi.  11). 

There  are,  we  say,  evidences  of  a  very  tolerating 
tendency  ;  in  order  to  assure  concord,  the  most 
reasonable  are  to  yield,  for  discord  is  the  greatest 
evil.  The  care  to  live  'well,  without  dispute,'  and 
the  care  not  to  lose  any  word  of  Buddha,  whenceso- 
ever  it  might  come,  were  both  commended. 

It  may  even  happen  that  laymen  are  the  only 
supporters  of  some  important  texts :  '  If  he  sends 
a  messenger  to  the  monks,  saying,  "Might  their 
reverences  come  and  learn  this  suttanta  ;  otherwise 
this  suttanta  will  fall  into  oblivion,"  .  .  .  then 
you  ought  to  go  even  during  the  rainy  season ' 
(Mahavagga,  iii.  5,  9  \_SBE  xhi.  p.  xxxiv]). 

But  the  care  to  be  '  orthodox,  and  not  to  alter 
Buddha's  practice  (Buddha-achinna)  has  not  proved 
less  effective.  Not  only  irregular  practices,  but 
sinful  theories  (papika  ditthi),  must  be  abandoned.3 
The  legend  of  the  Vaisali  Council  relates  the 
endeavours  of  the  '  good  ones '  to  enforce  the  old 
rules.4  The  Mahaparinibbanasutta,  without  men- 
tioning Councils,  points  out  that  one  ought  not  to 
rest  content,  in  the  matter  of  the  orthodoxy  of  a 
theory  or  of  a  practice,  merely  with  the  testimony 
of  a  hearer  of  Buddha,  of  an  Elder,  of  a  (parish) 
sahgha,  or  of  many  Elders,  but  that  one  must 
look  at  what  we  venture  to  style  the  original 
source  :  '  Without  praise  and  without  scorn  every 
word  and  syllable6  [of  a  hearer,  of  an  Elder,  etc.] 
should  be  carefully  understood,  and  then  one  must 
go  for  them  to  the  Sutra,  look  for  them  in  the 
Discipline.  If  they  are  not  to  be  found  in  the 
Sutra,  if  they  are  not  to  be  seen  in  the  Discipline, 
then  you  may  come  to  the  conclusion,  "Verily, 
this  is  not  the  word  of  the  Exalted  One  " '  {Digha, 
ii.  124).6 

1  Majjhima,  ii.  246 ;  cf.  iii.  128.  But  we  are  told  by  Bud- 
dhaghosa  that  these  very  lists  were  altered  by  heretics  (see 
Afiguttara,  i.  18S3  [not  1885],  p.  98). 

2  Majjhima,  ii.  238  (nos.  103  and  104). 

8  See  SBE  xiii.  226,  note  :  '  Temporary  expulsion  ...  is  pro- 
nounceu  against  monks  who  refuse  ...  to  renounce  a  false 
doctrine.' 

*  See  below,  p.  183. 

6  Although  Buddha  said :  '  Syllables  are  without  any  im- 
portance ;  you  ought  not  to  dispute  on  mere  trifles'  (Majjhima, 
ii.  240). 

6  See  SBE  xi.  67 ;  Dialogues,  ii.  133  (Rhys  Davids'  tr.,  from 
which  we  venture  to  differ  somewhat  in  wording) ;  cf.  the 
Sanskrit  rendering  of  these  criteria  of  authenticity  in  Poussin, 
B'nuidhitime,  p.  144. 


There  is  no  reason  to  deny  a  priori  that  such  a  notion  of  the 
Dhamma-Vinaya,  as  being  more  authoritative  than  individual 
assertions  or  local  traditions,  is  very  old  and  even  primitive. 
Without  turning  the  early  monachism  into  a  Catholicism,  one 
may  trace  strong  catholic  tendencies  in  the  '  universal  fraternity ' 
(chdturdUa  saiigha).  The  order  of  the  dying  Buddha  that, 
after  his  death,  '  the  "  Law "  is  the  recourse,  the  lamp,  the 
island,'  has  been  obeyed.  From  religious  and  intellectual  needs 
has  issued  a  system  of  rehearsing  practical,  legendary,  and 
doctrinal  lore — an  ever-increasing  and  more  or  less  organic 
growth  of  the  primitive  wisdom.  The  schools  which  style 
themselves  sthaviras  (Thera,  Theravddins)  wrongly  believe  that 
they  maintain  the  doctrine  ascertained  in  the  Councils  of  the 
Elders  ;  but  the  older  and  more  '  historical '  conception  is  very 
similar,  viz.  that  there  was  a  tradition,  called  the  tradition  of 
the  Elders,  because  the  Elders  were  in  early  times  the  authori- 
tative witnesses  of  the  Buddha's  word. 

To  sum  up  :  it  is  not  to  be  believed  that '  Canons  ' 
were  compiled  before  a  relatively  late  epoch,  and 
additions  were  possible  for  a  long  time  after  the 
sacred  lore  had  been  converted  into  sacred  books  : 
the  Pali  Parivdra  and  A  bhidhammas  may  be  quoted 
as  evident  additions.  But  already  at  the  time  of 
the  compilation  of  the  Mahaparinibbanasutta,  the 
notion  of  an  authentic  tradition,  whose  claims  are 
not  to  be  overborne  by  isolated  theras  or  by  parish- 
clergy,  had  made  its  way.  And,  without  admit- 
ting a  solemn  consensus  of  the  universal  Church, 
gathered  in  Nicene-like  assemblies,  one  can  under- 
stand how  the  ccenobitic  and  itinerant  organization 
of  the  clergy  produced  this  '  common  patrimony ' 
of  all  the  sects — to  use  Cecil  Bendall's  phrase — 
which  underlies  the  sectarian  development  of  the 
Canons  known  to  us.1 

Whilst,  in  order  to  explain  the  '  splitting  into 
sects '  and  the  diversity  of  the  Canons,  a  Buddhist 
would  admit  the  mulasahglti-bhrarnia,  'decay  of 
the  original  chanting  together  of  the  Law, '  '  rup- 
ture of  the  primitive  consensus,'  we  shall  rather 
look  at  the  manifold  and  numerous  variants  in  the 
wording,  and  not  a  few  discrepancies  in  the  mise  en 
ceuvre  of  the  'common  patrimony,'  as  the  natural 
result  of  a  (doctrinally  and  locally)  diversified 
work  on  the  oral  tradition.  The  Pali  Canon  itself, 
with  its  '  polygeneous '  loci  communes,  its  repeti- 
tions, its  parallel  stories  with  interchangeable 
heroes,  and  its  contradictions,  furnishes  us  with 
the  best  idea  of  what  this  tradition  was.  Nay, 
it  would  not  be  impossible  to  extract  from  this 
Canon  two  or  three  Canons  all  complete,  all  like 
one  another,  and  all  conflicting. 

If  the  above  observations  are  correct,  it  is  not  impossible  to 
work  out  a  provisional  theory  concerning  the  origin  and  the 
character  of  sects.2  The  legend  of  Purana  and  numerous 
evidences  of  every  kind  prove  that  a  central  authority  was 
wanting,  that  the  original  precise  dogmatism  postulated  by 
some  modern  historians  is  purely  conjectural,  that  Buddhist 
monachism  contained  germs  of  '  localization  '  or  division.3  But 
all  this  is  not  inconsistent  with  a  sort  of  '  Catholicism '  or 
'  orthodoxy '  at  least.  Sects  (bhedas)  may  arise  and  develop, 
without  being  the  results  or  the  causes  of  formal  schisms  or 
divisions  of  the  Church  (saiighabheda),  and  without  implying 
repudiation  or  the  prohibition  of  '  eating  together '  or  '  com- 
municating together '  with  monks  (asambhogaih  saiighena, 
[Mahdvagga,  x.  etc.]) — a  prohibition  which  is  made  known  by 
the  repudiating  parish  to  the  parishes  in  general.     There  may 

1  The  consensus  of  the  different  sects  as  concerns  the  sacred 
character  of  many  passages,  in  dogma  or  history,  is  not  a  proof 
that  these  passages  were  unanimously  acknowledged  before  the 
splitting  into  sects.  Mutual  borrowing  from  sect  to  sect  was 
by  no  means  impossible  ;  opposition  between  sects  was,  on  the 
whole,  restricted  to  a  few  rules  of  practice  or  a  few  doctrinal 
tenets ;  local  traditions,  or  fresh  acquisitions,  by  a  particular 
sect,  by  some  monastery  or  group  of  monasteries,  were,  we  must 
admit,  generally  welcomed  by  the  others.  And  it  may  be  urged 
that  a  sect — possibly  the  Pali-speaking  one — which  would  sur- 
pass its  fellow-sects  in  compiling  an  organized  body  of  Scriptures 
(or,  to  be  more  precise,  in  designing  a  drawer-desk  in  which  to 
put  the  Buddha's  words)  would  exercise  ipso  facto  a  profound 
and  decisive  influence  on  the  Buddhist  Order  at  large.  It  does 
not  follow  that  the  traditions  of  this  sect  were  the  oldest,  or 
genuine  and  free  from  borrowing,  or  that  they  have  not  been, 
since  their  earliest  compilation,  manipulated,  developed,  or 
adulterated  in  many  ways. 

2  See  art.  Sects  (Buddhist).  We  are  not  here  concerned 
with  the  '  Great  Vehicle '  (Mahdydna), 

3  '  Forest  men  '  are  allowed  to  observe  ascetic  practices  thai 
are  more  or  less  in  contradiction  to  the  principles  of  the  '  middle 
way '  between  asceticism  and  laxity — a  principle  solemnly  stated 
in  the  Benare9  Sermon. 


182 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Buddhist) 


be  '  cantonments '  without  discord, '  diversities '  without  excom- 
munication. It  is,  for  instance,  a  fact  that  Buddhists  used  their 
own  dialect1 — Buddha  himself  is  said  to  have  allowed  his 
disciples  to  do  so ;  and  diversity  of  language  is  more  than 
sufficient  to  cause  distinction  and  what  we  may  call '  liturgical ' 
opposition.  Details  concerning  monastic  life,  robes,  and  food 
are  also  decisive  in  this  regard :  discrepancies  could  not  but 
arise.  The  Pali  Vinaya  states  that  extra  allowances  ought  to 
be  tolerated  in  some  provinces  (Avanti) ;  four  monks  make  a 
sangha  in  ■  Bordering  countries,'  nine  are  necessary  in  'middle 
countries'  (madhyamesu),  etc. 

As  we  know  from  later  documents,  such  discrepancies  did 
not  lead  to  scandal  or  rupture.  Of  course,  a  monk  ought  to 
follow  the  rules  to  which  he  has  subscribed  as  a  novice  ;  but  he 
is  not  obliged  to  protest  when  he  is  the  guest  of  monks  who 
use  food  forbidden  to  him ;  conversely,  his  guests  have  no  right 
to  force  their  own  rules  upon  him.2  But,  as  it  is  said,  '  the 
very  water  has  taken  fire '  (SBE  xx.  119),  the  very  evidence  to 
which  we  refer  shows  that  intolerance,  too,  was  by  no  means 
impossible  in  such  cases. 

Diocesan  varieties,  which  we  may  consider  as  the  usual  origin 
of  sectarian  rivalries,  did  not  prevent  union  and  communion, 
and,  therefore,  did  not  prevent  collaboration  on  the  Canonical 
Literature.  Anything  that  claimed  to  be  '  Buddha's  word ' 
obtained,  as  a  rule,  adhesion.  Sutras  attested  by  extraneous 
tradition  (parasamayatas)  were  taken  into  consideration,  for 
later  doctrinal  contradictions  between  schools  depend  upon 
exegesis  rather  than  upon  sources,  and  are  more  concerned 
with  the  meaning  of  the  Sutras  than  with  their  authenticity. 
Schools  work  on  a  common  literary  stock,  made  up  from 
mutual  borrowings,  and  they  arrive  at  divergent  conclusions, 
even  when  they  do  not  start  from  divergent  dogmatical  tenets. 
As  a  rule,  doctrinal  contradictions  do  not  disrupt  the  safigha. 
If  the  clergy  of  a  diocese,  through  the  action  of  a  synod  or 
otherwise,  draw  up  a  synthesis  of  the  Law,  the  objection  is 
ready  at  hand  :  'You  alter  the  Law'  (sasanam  navakatam).$ 
'  No,  we  have  not  modified  the  cardinal  principles,  theological 
or  moral,'  is  the  answer.  And  this  answer,  be  it  right  or  wrong, 
is  probably  accepted.  It  may  happen  that  a  theory,  for  instance, 
the  pudgalavdda  ('doctrine  of  a  permanent  ego'),  would  lead 
some  sectaries  so  far  as  to  deny  the  authenticity  of  certain 
wtras ;  or,  conversely,  it  may  be  a  question  amongst  the 
orthodox  whether  such  sectaries  have  any  right  to  style  them- 
selves Buddhists,  and  yet  they  are  recognized  as  'scions'  of  the 
tradition  of  the  Elders.4 

Thus,  if  we  consider  the  mutual  relations  of 
sects  and  their  legal  position  as  branches  of  the 
universal  Sahgha — leaving  out  of  account  doc- 
trinal divergences  which  are  not,  as  such,  of 
paramount  importance— sects  are  not  to  be  con- 
trasted as  hostile  bodies,  with  closed  traditions. 
The  dream  of  Bimbisara  may  be  quoted  as  giving 
a  true  symbol  of  the  Buddhist  church  : 

King  Bimbisara  once  saw  in  a  dream  that  a  piece  of  cloth 
was  torn,  and  a  gold  stick  broken,  both  into  eighteen  frag- 
ments.6 Being  frightened,  he  asked  the  Buddha  the  reason. 
In  reply,  Buddha  said :  '  More  than  a  hundred  years  after  my 
attainment  of  nirvana,  there  will  arise  a  king,  named  Asoka. 

.  .  At  that  time,  my  teaching,  handed  down  by  several 
Bhiksus,  will  be  split  into  eighteen  schools,  all  agreeing,  how- 
ever, in  the  end,  that  is  to  say,  all  attaining  the  goal  of  final 
liberation.  The  dream  foretells  this,  O  king,  you  need  not  be 
afraid.'  6 

II.  Traditions  concerning  tee  Councils.— 
i.  First  Council  or  Rajagrha  Council. — The  Pali 
canonical  narrative  of  the  First  Council  {Chulla- 
vagga, xi.  [SBE  xx.  370])  may  be  summarized  in 
the  words  of  Kern : 7  ( After  the  demise  of  the 
Master,  a  certain  Subhaddha  said  to  his  fellows : 
"  Do  not  grieve  !  We  are  happily  rid  of  the  Great 
Ascetic.  We  used  to  be  annoyed  by  being  told, 
'  This  beseems  you,  this  beseems  you  not.  But 
now  we  shall  be  able  to  do  what  we  like,  and  what 
we  do  not  like  we  shall  not  have  to  do."  In  order 
to  obviate  the  dangerous  effects  of  such  unseemly 

i  Chullavagga,  v.  33.  1 :  sakd  nirutti,  '  one's  own  language ' — 
understood  by  the  commentary  as  meaning  '  Buddha's  own 
language.'  See  Oldenberg,  Introd.  to  Vinaya  Pitakam  (1879), 
p.  xlix  ;  Minayeff,  Pali  Grammar  (Guyard's  French  tr.,  Paris, 
1874),  pp.  xxxix,  xlix,  and  Patimokkha  (1869),  p.  xliv. 

2  I-tsing,  Religieux  dminents,  tr.  Ed.  Chavannea  (Paris,  1894), 
p.  48. 

a  Eathdvattku,  xxi.  1;  cf.  Majjhima,  ii.  245. 

4  For  more  details,  see  art.  Sects  (Buddhist). 

5  This  figure,  18,  which  does  not  agree  with  our  lists  of  sects, 
possibly  depends  upon  the  18  bhedakaravatthus,  'causes  of 
division  in  the  Church' — a  fanciful  list  (Chullavagga,  vii.  5.  2). 

6  I-tsing,  A  Record  of  the  Buddhist  Religion  (tr.  Takakusu, 
Oxford,  1896),  pp.  13-14  ;  cf.  and  ct.  Taranatha,  tr.  von  Schiefner, 
St.  Petersburg,  1869,  p.  274  ;  and  Watters,  On  Yuan  Chwang 
(1904),  i.  162  ff. :  '  The  tenets  of  the  SchoolB  keep  these  isolated, 
and  controversy  runs  high  ;  heresies  on  special  doctrines  lead 
many  ways  to  the  same  end.  .  .  .' 

?  Manual  (1896),  p.  101  f.  (with  some  omissions). 


utterances,  Kasyapa  the  Great  made  the  proposal 
that  the  Brethren  should  assemble  to  rehearse  the 
Lord's  precepts.  The  proposal  was  adopted,  and 
Kasyapa  was  now  entreated  to  select  500  Arhats. 
This  being  done,  it  was  decided  that  Rajagrha 
should  be  the  place  of  assembly.  During  a  seven 
months'  session  the  Vinaya  ("Discipline")  was 
fixed,  with  the  assistance  of  Upali ;  the  Dhamma 
("  Law,"  doctrine),  with  the  assistance  of  Ananda.' 
There  are  added  some_  details  regarding  certain 
errors  or  misdeeds  of  Ananda,  who  had  to  make 
amends  for  them.  Lastly,  a  celebrated  monk, 
Purana,  arrives  when  the  'chanting  together*  of 
the  Law  is  completed,  and,  although  he  admits  that 
the  Law  has  been  well  '  sung '  by  the  Elders  or 
Arhats,  he  prefers  to  '  bear '  the  Law  as  he  has 
himself  received  it  from  the  Master. 

According  to  Oldenberg,  'what  we  have  here 
before  us  is  not  history,  but  pure  invention ' ; l  and 
every  one  will  agree  with  him,  as  far  as  the 
'  chanting  together '  of  the  whole  Vinaya  and 
Dharma  (  =  Sutras)  is  concerned,  although,  in  the 
words  of  Kern,  '  it  is  by  no  means  incredible  that 
the  disciples,  after  the  death  of  the  founder  of  their 
sect,  came  together  to  come  to  an  agreement  con- 
cerning the  principal  points  of  the  creed  and  of  the 
discipline.'2  As  concerns  the  minor  details,  whose 
unhistorical  character  is  by  no  means  evident 
(misdeedsof  Ananda,  excommunication  of  Chhanna, 
etc. ),  Minayetf  thinks  that  they  are  to  some  extent 
historical,  and  the  present  writer  does  not  see  how 
this  opinion  can  be  '  proved '  to  be  either  right  or 
wrong.8  He  ventures  to  believe  that  it  is  right. 
The  author  of  Chullavagga,  xi.,  in  order  to  em- 
bellish his  history  of  the  First  Council  (a  legend  or 
a  quasi-legend,  an  *  setiologic '  or  *  apologetic '  con- 
struction which  may  cover  some  kernel  of  truth), 
has  used  traditional  data,  which  are  neither  more 
nor  less  reliable  than  the  whole  of  the  ancient 
Buddhist  Tradition  containedjin  Vinayas  or  Sutras. 
Moreover,  it  is  not  necessary  to  decide  whether 
these  data  are  true  or  false  ;  in  any  case,  they  pre- 
sent us  with  useful  evidence  as  to  the  early  Church. 

The  narratives  of  several  sects — Dharmaguptas,  Mahisasakas, 
Sarvastivadins,  Mahasanghikas — are  parallel  with  the  Chulla- 
vagga. Although  there  are  manifold  discrepancies,  it  is  far 
from  certain  that  they  furnish  us  with  independent  traditions.4 
The  Chullavagga  looks  older,  for  it  does  not  contain  any  allusion 
to  the  rehearsing  of  the  Abhidharma. 

Much  importance  haB  been  attributed  by  Oldenberg  and 
Franke  to  the  fact  that  the  Mahdparinibbdnasutta  5  altogether 
ignores  the  Council,  although  it  tells  of  the  indecent  attitude 
of  Subhaddha  (which,  according  to  the  Chullavagga,  was  the 
occasion  of  the  Council) ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Chulla- 
vagga depends  (or  seems  to  depend)  on  the  Mahdparinibbdna  ;6 
therefore,  when  the  last  text  was  compiled,  the  very  idea  of  a 
primitive  Council  had  not  yet  appeared.  The  present  writer 
does  not  think  that  such  weighty  conclusions  can  be  drawn 
from  a  mere  literary  comparison  of  the  documents.  The  very 
argument  would  not  have  emerged  if  the  Pali  Mahdparinibbdna, 
like  some  northern  editions  of  the  '  Last  days  of  Buddha,'  had 
been  followed  by  the  narrative  of  the  Council ;  and  it  is  not 
absurd  to  suppose  that  its  redactor,  for  mere  literary  reasons, 
abstained  from  giving  an  account  of  the  Council.? 

1  Introd.  to  Vinaya  Pitakam,  p.  xxvii. 

2  Kern,  Manual,  p.  103.  According  to  Digha,  iii.  210,  the  divi- 
sions among  the  Jains  at  the  death  of  the  Jina  caused  Sariputta 
to  '  rehearse '  the  Law,  to  compile  a  mere  numerical  enumeration 
of  the  dogmatic  topics.    There  is  much  truth  in  this  information. 

3  As  is  well  said  by  Oldenberg,  quoted  in  I  A,  1908,  p.  7. 

4  See  B.  O.  Franke,  '  Buddhist  Councils/  in  JPTS,  1908,  p.  76. 
6  '  The  Book  of  the  Great  Decease,'  the  Pali  narrative  of  the 

last  days  and  the  funeral  of  Buddha,  tr.  Rhys  Davids,  SBE  xi., 
and  Dialogues,  ii. 

6  See  Dialogues,  ii.  70. 

7  See  I  A,  1908,  p.  8,  note  ;  also  Nanjio,  Catalogue  of  the 
Chinese  Transl.  of  the  Bud.  Tripitaka  (Oxford,  1S53),  no.  652, 
and  SBE  xi.  p.  xxxviii.  [We  are  indebted  for  this  reference 
and  this  argument  to  M.  Louis  Finot.]  A  typical  instance  of 
the  complexity  of  these  literary  and  historical  problems  is 
furnished  by  the  various  narratives  of  the  episode  of  Purana. 
This  episode  is  more  developed  in  some  Vinayas  than  it  is  in 
the  Pali  Vinaya  Chullavagga.  According  to  the  Vinaya  of  the 
Mahttdsakas,  Purana  demanded  the  insertion  of  seven  permis- 
sions (keeping  food  indoors,  cooking  indoors,  etc.) ;  according 
to  the  Dharmaguptas,  of  eight.  Now  the  Pali  Vinaya  (Mahd- 
vagga.  vi.  17-19,  20.  4,  32)  states  that  the  problem  of  the  '  eierht 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Buddhist) 


183 


2.  Council  of  VaiSali  (Vesali). — According  to  a 
tradition  fully  developed  in  Chullavagga,  xii.  (SBE 
xx.  386),  and  common  at  least  to  several  sects, 
there  was  held,  in  the  year  100  or  110  after  the 
Nirvana,1  a  Council  to  examine  and  condemn  ten 
extra-legal  practices  of  the  monks  of  Vaisali.  The 
inhabitants  of  Vaisali  and  surrounding  country 
(Vraja,  the  modern  Braj)  are  known  as  Vfjis  (Pali 
Vajjis),  and  the  heretic  monks  as  Vfjiputrakas 
(Pali,  Vaijiputtakas).  The  heretical  practices  were 
describea,  or  technically  pointed  out,  in  short 
phrases — *  two  lingers,' '  another  village,' '  dwelling- 
place,'  etc. — some  of  which  were  no  longer  intel- 
ligible when  Chullavagga,  xii. ,  and  the  other 
Vinayas  alluded  to  were  compiled,  as  is  shown 
by  the  discrepancies  in  the  interpretation  of  the 
'  phrases.' 

We  may  safely  acknowledge  the  historical 
character  of  a  vaisalian  controversy  on  ten 
points  of  monastic  discipline,  but  it  is  as  yet  im- 
possible to  draw  from  our  documents  any  con- 
clusion regarding  the  importance  or  the  date  of 
the  event,  the  development  of  the  monastic  insti- 
tution at  that  time,  or  the  date  of  the  Pali  Vinaya 
as  a  Thole.  The  present  writer  considers  it  a 
misleading  opinion  that  the  whole  Pali  Vinaya 
was  anterior  to  the  Vaisali  Council  because  it 
does  not  contain  any  allusion  to  the  ten  '  phrases.' 
Further,  as  is  generally  admitted,  the  figures  100 
and  110  are  round  numbers. 

Oldenberg's  remarks  on  Vaisali  (Introd.  to  Vinaya  Pfyakam, 
and  '  Buddh.  Studien,*  ZDMG  xlii.  613)  cannot  be  said  to  have 
settled  the  question  in  favour  of  the  priority  of  the  Vinaya. 
For  a  discussion  of  the  arguments  pro  and  con  one  may  refer  to 
J  A,  1908,  p.  81  ff. 

R.  O.  Franke  defends  an  altogether  different  estimate  of  the 
'  Vaisalian '  legend.  His  argument  against  Rajagrha  and 
Vaisali,  is,  in  short,  as  follows  :  The  author  of  Chullavagga,  xi. 
(First  Council),  has  turned  into  history  the  saying  of  Buddha 
that  '  after  my  death,  O  monks,  the  Law  ought  to  be  your 
refuge.'  Therefore,  thought  this  ecclesiastical  romancer,  the 
Elders  compiled  the  Law  just  after  the  Nirvana  ;  and,  as  there 
was  no  tradition  whatever  concerning  this  supposed  Council, 
he  employed  all  the  '  evangelical '  data  which  could  be  of  use 
for  an  *  apostolic '  history.  Again,  Buddha  was  said  to  have 
delivered  many  discourses  (compiled  in  the  Suttas  or  in  the 
Vinaya)  concerning  heretics  '  who  proclaim  and  hold  as  right 
{dhamma)  what  is  wrong  {adhamma),  as  Discipline  [{vinaya) 
what  is  un-Discipline  {avinaya) ' ;  nay  more,  he  predicted  that 
the  Vajjis  would  be  destroyed  owing  to  their  disrespect  for 
Arhats,  their  discords,  etc.  [Various  misdeeds  of  the  Vesalian 
Vajjiputtakas  are  also  well  known  :  during  the  lifetime  of 
Buddha,  they  adhered  to  the  '  five  points '  (ascetic  exaggerations 
of  Devadatta),  Chullavagga,  vii.  4.  1 ;  or,  on  the  contrary,  they 
indulged  in  the  most  strange  indulgences— eating,  bathing,  and 
sleeping  as  they  pleased,  and  permitting  themselves  sexual 
intercourse  {Vinaya  Ptyakam,  iii.  23;  Par.  i.  7).]  From  these 
data,  the  ecclesiastical  romancer  has  constructed  a  history  of 
a  schism  (finally  settled  at  Vaisali),  parallel  with  his  history 
of  the  compilation  of  the  Law  (First  Council),  and  showing 
the  same  literary  skill:  '.  .  .  The  chronicle  of  the  "Second 
Council "...  is  not  only  a  merely  literary  construction  ;  it 
does  not  even  possess  any  relevant  subject-matter.  Whether 
such  monkish  steam  as  those  ten  puerilities  was  ever  let  off 

(or  seven)  points '  was  discussed  during  the  lifetime  of  the 
Buddha,  who,  after  having  authorized  the  '  keeping  of  food  in- 
doors,' etc.,  withdrew  this  concession  (see  IA,  1908,  p.  6).  It 
is  not  easy  to  draw  any  conclusion  from  such  coincidences.  (1) 
One  may  say  that  the  Mahi&ilsakas  and  the  Dharmaguptas 
have  embellished  the  history  of  the  Council  through  attribut- 
ing to  Purana  some  opinions  alluded  to  and  condemned  in  the 
Vxnaya ;  and  this  opinion  is  right  enough,  for  Purana  seems 
not  to  have  been  a  man  to  patronize  extra  allowances;  and, 
from  a  merely  literary  point  of  view,  the  Mahdvagga  (our  Pali 
recension,  or  same  other  edition  of  the  subject-matter  of  the 
Mahdvagga)  is  the  probable  source  of  the  Mahi&dsaka  informa- 
tion. But  (2)  it  is  very  probable,- or  rather  certain,  that  the 
redactors  of  the  Vinaya  {Pdtimokkha,  Mahdvagga,  etc.)  have 
'  antedated '  many  prescriptions  and  many  events,  Buddha  him- 
self being  said  to  have  condemned  practices  or  tenets  which,  in 
fact,  appeared  only  after  his  death,  and  became  occasions  of 
disputes  or  schisms. 

i  The  date  100  anno  nirvdni,  according  to  the  Chullavagga, 
the  MahUdsakas  (Wassilieff,  in  Taranatha,  p.  291),  the  Dharma- 
gujdas  (Beal,  Four  Lectures  on  Bud.  Lit.  in  China  [London, 
1882],  p.  83,  and  Berlin  Congress  of  Orientalists,  Ostas.  section, 
p.  33),  and  Fa-hien  (xxv.,  at  the  end) ;  the  date  110,  according 
to  the  Sarvastivadins  (Rockhill,  Life,  p.  171 ;  IA,  1908,  p.  104), 
Hiuen  Tsiang  (Watters,  On  Yuan  Chwang,  ii.  73  f.,  cf.  p.  75, 
note).  Taranatha  (p.  42)  says  that  the  figure  '  in  the  Vinaya  of 
Other  schools  '  is  210  and  220. 


has  little  or  no  importance  for  the  history  of  Buddhist  litera- 
ture.' 1 
3.  The  two  Asokas  and  their  Councils. — 

(1)  The  Pali  Vinaya  {Chullavagga,  xii.)  states  that  the  Vesali 
Council  was  held  in  a.b.  100,  but  it  does  not  name  the  reigning 
sovereign,  and  it  contains  no  allusion  to  any  later  Council. 
Other  sources  {MahifSasakas,  Dharmaguptas,  and  Sarvastivadins 
[a.b.  110])  seem  to  be  equally  silent  on  these  points. 

(2)  Pali  later  sources  (Sinhalese  sources)  know  the  name  of 
the  sovereign,  Kalasoka,  and  they  add  that  the  Vesalian 
schismatics  (Vajjiputtakas)  in  their  turn  held  a  Council,  the 
'Great  Assembly,'  whence  issued  the  sect  Mahasanghika,  'of 
the  Great  Assembly ' — while  the  Mahasanghikas  are  said  by 
other  sources  to  maintain  that  this  '  Great  Assembly '  was  held 
immediately  after  the  Rajagrha  Council. 

(3)  Vasumitra,  the  author  of  a  treatise  on  the  sects,  hitherto 
undated  (see  Minayeff,  Recherches,  p.  195),  who  seems  to  ignore 
Vaisali,  tells  us  of  a  Council  held  in  a.b.  100,  at  Pafcaliputra, 
under  Asoka,  concerning  '  five  points ' ;  2  the  Council  resulted 
in  the  division  between  the  Church  and  the  Mahasanghika  sect. 

(4)  Bhavya,  the  author  of  another  treatise  on  the  sects,  relate* 
the  tradition  of  the  Sammitiyas  that  a  Council  was  held  in 
a.b.  137,  at  Pa^aliputra,  under  the  kings  Nanda  and  Mahapadma* 
[concerning  '  five  points  '  ?]. 

(5)  According  to  the  same  authority,  the  Sthaviras  say  that  a 
Council  was  held  in  a.b.  160,  at  Pataliputra,  under  Asoka,  con- 
cerning some  controverted  question,  and  that  it  resulted  in  the 
Mahasaughika  schism. 

(6)  According  to  Taranatha  (p.  44),  during  th6  lifetime  of 
Asoka,  Vatsa,  a  Brahman  from  Kadniir,  a  monk  or  even  an 
elder  (sthavira)  preached  to  the  common  people  the  doctrine  of 
the  existence  of  a  soul,  and  caused  no  little  discussion  among 
the  clergy.  The  '  noble  Black  '  {dry a  Kdla  or  Kfsna),  who  had 
succeeded  Dhitikain  the  '  protection  of  the  Law,' assembled  the 
whole  body  of  clergy  in  the  Puskarini-monastery,  in  Maru 
(MarwarJ,  and  after  a  session  of  three  months  the  followers  of 
Vatsa  and  Vatsa  himself  were  converted. 

This  Council  appears  in  an  altogether  different  light,  namely, 
as  'the  collection  of  the  Scriptures'  through  the  elder  Vatsi- 
putra,  in  Tanjur,  Mdo,  132,  where  it  is  dated  A.B.  400,  and  in 
Bhavya,  with  the  figure  200  or  400.4    Thg  sect  of  the  Vatsi- 

1  To  the  present  writer  it  appears  that  one  might  safely 
maintain  the  reverse.  It  is  a  priori  probable  that  the  dis- 
courses of  Buddha  on  schisms,  the  prediction  of  the  misfortune 
of  the  Vajjis,  and  the  fanciful  attribution  to  them  of  extra-legal 
practices,  either  ascetic  or  sinful,  far  from  being  the  literary 
cause  of  the  legend  of  a  schism,  are  the  consequence,  the  re- 
flexion of  some  tradition  relative  to  some  historical  events  in 
which  the  Vajjis  (or  Vaisalians)  were  concerned.  And  the 
dispute  on  the  '  ten  points '  was  probably  such  an  event.  We 
are  greatly  mistaken  if  a  part  of  the  Vinaya,  nay,  of  the  Pdti- 
mokkha itself,  is  not  made  up  of  new  (we  do  not  say  modern) 
acquisitions  of  the  earliest  Buddhist  discipline,  acquisitions 
mainly  due  to  the  development  of  the  Order  and  to  the 
necessity  of  stating  rules  for  new  cases — acquisitions  which 
were,  of  course,  antedated  and  solemnly  attributed  to  Buddha 
himself.  For  instance,  when  Buddha  is  said  to  have  first 
authorized  and  finally  withdrawn  some  allowance,  have  we  not 
some  right  to  suppose  that  the  Church  itself  had  modified  its 
rules?  We  know  little  of  this  early  history.  Buddhist  Vinaya 
and  Sutra  may  be  compared  with  an  apocryphal  Gospel  where 
the  decisions  of  Nicsa  and  the  Canons  of  Cluny  may  be  found 
side  by  side  with  Apostolic  traditions.  We  have  only  a  few 
episodes  which  bear  an  appearance  of  truth,  in  so  far  at  least 
that  they  are  not  piously  antedated  ;  but  amongst  them  is  the 
Council  of  Vaisali.  The  '  ten  points  '  have  not  been  'concocted ' 
from  the  data  of  the  Vinaya  by  pseudo-historians,  even  if  the 
narrative  depends  on  the  Vinaya,  as  R.  O.  Franke  has  proved 
it  to  do  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  not  impossible  that  the  Vinaya 
has  been  largely  amplified  owing  to  many  VaisalMike  disputes. 

2  Five  doctrines  on  Arhat-ship  and  the  Path,  the  originator  of 
which  is  named  Mahadeva,  and  sometimes  Bhadra  (see  below, 
p.  184b,  and  JRAS,  1910,  p.  413).  . 

3  The  word  'king'  (Tibet,  rgyal-po)  is  in  the  singular  (see 
Rockhill,  Life,  p.  186,  note),  but  Nanda  and  Mahapadma  are 
two  persons  (cf.  Taranatha,  p.  61 ;  Wassilieff,  p.  47  [51]).  Nanda 
seems  to  have  been  the  second  or  third  successor  of  JUoka  (see 
V.  A.  Smith,  JRAS,  1901,  p.  851). 

4  See  Bhavya  ap.  Rockhill's  Life,  p.  187.  In  the  words  of  the 
latter,  *  ...  a  Council  held  in  the  year  a.b.  137  (see  (4)  above) 
.  .  .  the  monks  continued  to  quarrel  for  sixty-three  years  after- 
wards, that  is  to  say,  till  a.b.  200 ;  and  102  years  later  {i.e.  a.b. 
302)  the  Sthavira  and  Vatsiputriya  schools  verified  the  canon 
["  rightly  collected  the  doctrine"].'  The  present  writer  holds 
against  Rockhill,  (1)  that  gnas-brtan  gnas  mahi  bus  must  bt 
translated  Sthavira  Vdtsiputriyena  (or  °putrena),  that  is  to  say, 
'  the  Elder  named  Vatsiputra  collected  the  doctrine';  (2)  that 
the  figure  102  is  wrong  ;  Bhavya'e  brgya  phrag  gflis  may  be  o? 
must  be  200  (see  Jiischke,  Tibet.  Grammar,  Eng.  tr.t  Londoc, 
1883,  p.  31  n.),  and  Manjughsahasavajra,  quoting  Bhavya,  haa 
Ms  brgya,  that  is  to  say,  200. '  We  have  137+63  =  a.b.  200.  If  we 
add  200,  we  have  400,  the  date  of  the  Vatsiputriya  Council 
according  to  Tanjur,  t.  132,  fol.  32  (Taranatha,  p.  298).  We 
prefer  to  take  the  figure  200  of  Bhavya  as  the  total  137+63, 
for  the  phrases  de-nas  lo  brgya  phrag  gnis  hdas  pai  rjes  la, 
de  rjes  lo  Ms  brgya  hdaspar  may  be  translated :  '  then  {tatas) 
two  hundred  years  being  elapsed,  then,  after  two  hundred 
years  '  (cf.  Taranatha,  p.  298,  line  6  f.).  [The  dispute  of  63  years, 
sayB  Taranatha  (p.  61),  lasted  100  years  from  its  commencement 
till  its  final  settlement.! 


184 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Buddhist; 


putriyas,  'adherents  of  Vatsiputra,'  scions  of  the  sthaviras,  ia 
well  known  for  its  theory  of  a  soul  (pudgala).1 

(7)  Sinhalese  sources  :  a  Council  in  a.b.  236,  at  Pataliputra, 
under  Asoka  (Dharmasoka),  which  proclaimed  the  orthodoxy  of 
the  Vibhajyavdda  ('doctrine  of  the  distinction'),  to  which 
belongs  the  Pali  or  Sinhalese  Church,  and  authenticated  the 
last  of  the  Pali  Abhidharma  treatises,  the  Kathdvatthu. 

The  obvious  conclusions  are  as  follows,  (a) 
Nothing  precise  was  known  concerning  the  origin 
of  the  Mahasahghikas.  They  claimed  to  be 
ancient  and  orthodox.  Others  styled  them  heretics 
and  schismatics.  The  Sinhalese  identified  them 
with  the  Vesalian  Vajjiputtakas,  but  there  is  no 
evidence  in  favour  of  this  identification ;  some 
sects  believed  that  they  originated  out  of  the  dis- 
pute on  the  *  five  points,'  and  it  seems  certain  that 
they  admitted  the  '  five  points.'  (b)  There  was  a 
tradition  of  a  Vesalian  Council  on  'ten  points,' 
date  uncertain,  no  mention  of  king  ;  and  (c)  a 
tradition  of  a  Council  on  '  some  controverted 
question,'  more  precisely  on  '  five  points' ;  date  un- 
certain, and  probably  no  mention  of  king,  (d)  The 
monks  ot  Ceylon  supposed  that  their  Katkdvatthu, 
a  catalogue  of  heresies,  had  been  first  preached 
mysteriously  by  Buddha ;  they  were  well  aware 
that  the  book  was  'modern,'  nay,  that  it  had  been 
revealed  by  Tissa  Moggaliputta,  some  centuries 
after  the  Nirvana  ;  and  they  had  reasons  to  admit 
that  their  Scriptures,  inclusive  of  the  Katkdvatthu, 
had  been  rehearsed  in  a  Council,  which  could  not 
be  the  Vaisall  Council,  since  the  Chullavagga 
ignores  Tissa  and  the  Katkdvatthu. 

It  was  reasonable  to  place  all  the  important  events  in  the 
history  of  the  Church  under  Asoka,  a  sovereign  who  had 
evidently  been  a  second  '  mover  of  the  Wheel  of  the  Law ' ;  and 
this  was  done.  [Note  the  exceptional  mention  of  Nanda  and 
Mahapadma,  above,  p.  183.]  Again,  Pafaliputra  was  the  evident 
seat  of  such  meetings.  Our  Northern  documents  are  scanty 
and  conflicting,  but  they  give  the  impression  that  there  was  no 
certain  tradition  of  the  date  of  Agoka  :  100,  110,  137,  or  160  are 
figures  out  of  which  no  chronology  can  be  extracted  (*  no  oil 
out  of  sand,'  na  sikatdbkyas  tailam). 

Sinhalese  tradition  places  the  Vaisali  Council  in  100  under 
Kaladoka,  and  the  Pataliputra  Council  in  236  under  Dharmasoka. 
Besides  the  '  Northern '  figures  for  Asoka  (100  [110J,  137,  160), 
there  was  a  fourth  figure,  a.b.  236  (17  or  19  years  after  his  corona- 
tion in  a.b.  217,  219).  We  are  not  concerned  with  the  question 
whether  these  were  fanciful  or  traditional  computations.  In 
fact,  the  authors  of  the  ecclesiastical  history  '  concocted '  in 
Ceylon  admitted  this  figure,  without  troubling  themselves  very 
much  to  adjust  it  to  some  other  chronological  details  of  their 
own  ;  and,  as  they  maintained  the  canonic  date  of  Vaisali,  and 
were  at  a  loss  to  name  the  sovereign  reigning  in  a.b.  100,  they 
imagined  a  '  black  Asoka,'  KdldSoka — a  mere  idolum  lihri.l 

The  Sinhalese  narrative  of  the  Third  Council  is 
open  to  serious  objections  as  concerns  the  rehearsal 
of  the  Pali  Canon  and  of  the  Kathdvatthu  as  it 
stands  now,  and  as  regards  the  solemn  declaration 
by  the  whole  clergy  that  Buddha  was  a  Vibhaj- 
javadin, i.e.  that  he  adhered  to  the  tenets  of  the 
school  of  this  name.  But  some  details  are  histori- 
cal, and  the  story  itself  rests  on  historical  ground. 
Asoka's  inscriptions  are  explicit  enough  as  to  the 
king's  intervention  in  clerical  questions  :  we  know 
that  he  decreed  expulsion  (*  putting  in  white  [i.e. 
layman's]  garments ')  against  [monks  or]  nuns. 
The  Sinhalese  tradition  may  be  relied  upon  when 
it  affirms  that  such  rules  were  enforced  against 
bad  monks,  '  pseudo-Buddhists'  ;3  but  that  '  here- 
tics' were  ill-treated  by  the  king  seems  rather 
incredible.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  unfortunate 
that  the  inscriptions  contain  no  allusion  to  a 
1  Council,'  and  some  historians  feel  obliged  to  place 

i  Vdts'iputriya — the  reading  is  certain — is  translated  gnas- 
mahi  bu ;  Vatsa  is  a  conjecture  of  Schiefner  for  gnas-pa ; 
Vatsi-p-utra,  a  conjecture  of  the  present  writer's  for  gnas-malii 
bu.  Kern  says  that  the  Vatsiputriyas  are  '  evidently  the  same 
as  the  Vujjiputtakasof  the  [Sinhalese]  Chronicles'  (Manual,  p. 
Ill) ;  that  is  to  say,  in  their  '  genealogy '  of  the  sects  the 
Sinhalese  give  to  the  Vatsiputriyas  the  old  name  Vajjiputtakas. 
But  there  is  only  gwast-hoinophony  between  these  two  names. 

2  See  V.  A.  Smith,  JRAS,  1901,  p.  855.  We  are  much  in- 
debted to  this  authority. 

3  See  Samantapasadika,  Vinaya,  iii.  312  [read  line  19  apapab- 
bajesi,  '  forced  to  quit  the  order'] ;  cf.  &iksdsamuchchaya,  p.  66 
(which  forbids  such  spiritual  usurpation  of  the  '  civil  power '), 
and  Lotus  of  the  Good  Law,  SBE  xxi.  eh.  xii.  17. 


the  Council  in  the  short  time  between  the  Pillar- 
inscriptions  and  the  death  of  the  king  (see  ii.  1*26). 
But  the  question  is  whether  the  Council  was  what 
it  is  said  to  have  been,  a  'Nicene'  Assembly, 
and  not  rather  a  series  of  synods  or  dogmatic 
disputations. 

Until  the  Kathdvatthu  has  been  thoroughly 
studied  and  compared  with  ■  Northern  '  documents, 
it  will  be  impossible  to  describe  the  ancient 
doctrinal  discussions  ;  but  we  already  possess  a 
few  hints  which  may  prove  useful. 

(a)  The  name  of  Tissa  Moggaliputta,  the  hero  of  the  Third 
Council  and  the  '  defender '  of  the  Vibhajjavadin  faith,  is  quoted 
in  the  books  of  a  rival  sect,  the  Sarvastivadins.  The  Vijfla- 
nakdya,  a  treatise  of  this  sect,  '  is  a  tedious  argumentative 
treatise  combating  the  views  of  a  Moginlin  who  denied  the 
reality  of  the  Past  and  the  Future  .  .  .'  (Waiters,  On  Yuan 
Chwang,  i.  374).  This  'thesis  of  the  omni-existence'  (sarvd- 
stiodda),  which  gave  their  name  to  the  Sarvastivadins,  is  dis- 
cussed in  the  Kathdvatthu  (i.  6-10).  It  is  at  least  possible  that 
a  Moggaliputta  maintained  the  system  or  method  of  distinction 
(vibhajja0)  which  already  appears  in  the  sermons  of  Buddha  on 
sabbam  atthit  'Does  anything  exist?'  (Sarhyutta),  and  is  em- 
ployed in  some  places  of  the  Kathdvatthu. 

(b)  It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  the  'five  points'— the  five 
theories  attributed  to  a  schismatic,  Mahadeva  by  name,  concern- 
ing the  Arhat-ship  and  the  Meditation — which,  according  to  the 
'  northern '  sources,  were  discussed  under  A6oka  and  formed  the 
origin  of  the  Mahasanghika  schism, — are  also  discussed  in  the 
Kathdvatthu  (ii.  1-6).1 

(c)  Further,  the  first  heresy  condemned  in  the  Kathdvatthu — 
'  Is  there  in  the  truest  and  highest  sense  a  soul  (pudgala)  ? ' — ia 
known  from  the  Northern  sources  as  the  capital  tenet  of  the 
Vatsiputriyas  (see  above,  p.  184) ;  and  we  believe  that  the  pro- 
blem of  the  '  soul '  aroused  division  in  the  earliest  times.  The 
second  heresy — 'Can  an  Arhat  fall  from  Arhat-ship  1  '—is  also 
very  ancient,  etc. 

To  sum  up :  it  seems  almost  certain  that  a 
number  of  heresies  discussed  in  the  Kathdvatthu 
may  have  occasioned  discussions,  synods,  and 
divisions  in  the  days  of  Asoka,  and  even  before  his 
time;  that  there  was  a  Kathdvatthuppakarana,  a 
'  book  on  controversies,'  which  could  be  easily 
completed,  and,  in  fact,  has  been  enlarged  through 
many  and  manifold  additions.  There  is  no  reason 
to  doubt  that,  in  a  primitive  form,  it  was  in  some 
way  connected  with  Tissa  Moggaliputta. 

4.  Council  of  Kaniska. — The  documents  concern- 
ing this  Council  are  late,  '  more  or  less  at  variance, 
and,  moreover,  very  vague.'2 

It  seems  that  this  Assembly  is,  for  the  Sarvastivadin  School, 
what  Moggaliputta's  Council  is  for  the  Vibhajjavadin  School  of 
Ceylon — an  apologetic  ^uasi-invention.  Like  the  Vibhajjava- 
dins,  the  Sarvastivadins  possess  treatises  on  Abhidharma,^  and 
maintain  that  theseare  authoritative  (word  of  the  Buddha) ;  their 
authenticity  or  authority  was,  they  say,  recognized  at  the 
Council  held  under  Kaniska,  and,  moreover,  a  Commentary  on 
the  A  bhidharma-tresitises  ( Vibhds d)  was  compiled  or  written  on 
this  occasion.  It  must  be  observed  that  the  Abhidharmako&a, 
while  stating  the  conflicting  theories  of  the  Vaibhasikas  (scions 
of  the  Sarvastivadins,  relying  on  the  Vibhds d)  and  of  the  Sau- 
trantika  (who  consider  the  Abhidharma'trentises  as  'human' 
works),  does  not  mention,  we  think,  Kaniska's  Council ;  further, 
that  all  the  Kasiniras  (monks  of  Kasmir,  the  stronghold  of  the 
Sarvastivadins  and  Vaibhasikas)  are  not  Vaibhasikas. 

The  narratives  of  this  Council  are  to  some  extent 
dogmatic  legends,4  and  seem  only  to  bear  witness 
to  the  literary  activity  of  the  Sarvastivadins.  As 
is  well  said  by  Takakusu,  until  the  treatises  of  this 
school  shall  have  been  made  accessible  to  scholars, 
it  will  be  vain  to  argue  about  the  Council  or  its 
proceedings  (see  artt.  Vaibhasikas,  Sarvastiva- 
dins). 

1  See  JRAS,  1910,  p.'  413. 

2  Kern,  Manual,  p.  121  (see  also  Geschiedenis,  ii.  359).  Kern 
gives  a  summary  of  the  narratives  of  Fa-hien,  Hiuen  Tsiang, 
Taranatha  (Tibet.  Lebensbeschreibung  Sakya  Munis,  tr.  von 
Schiefner,  St.  Petersburg,  1S49).  V.  A.  Smith  (Early  History, 
p.  249  ff.)  adds  new  evidences,  especially  Takakusu's  observa- 
tions. The  date  of  Kaniska,  in  the  present  writer's  opinion,  has 
not  yet  been  ascertained ;  but  there  is  nothing  to  prove  that 
the  Sarvastivadins'  books  are  either  earlier  or  later  than 
Kaniska  (q.v.). 

3  It  seems  certain  that  the  two  Abhidharmic  collections  have 
nothing  in  common. 

4  The  present  writer  cannot  agree  with  Kern's  opinion 
(Manual,  p.  122)  that,  as  a  result  of  the  Council,  '  somehow  an 
agreement,  a  modus  vivendi,  was  hit  upon  on  the  base  of  the 
principal  truths  unassailed  by  any  of  the  18  sects.'  Such  an 
interpretation  of  the  legends  is  opposed  by  the  fact  that  the 
Sarvastivadin  character  of  the  Council  seems  to  be  proved. 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


185 


5.  We  must  be  content  simply  to  note  a  tradi- 
tion as  to  later  Councils:  A.B.  400 — VatsTputra's 
Council;  A.B.  700 — Mahasammatlyas'  Council; 
A.B.  800 — a  Council  under  Bhutika  and  Buddha- 
mitra  (Wassilieff,  ap.  Taranatha,  p.  298). 

Literature. — Almost  all  the  books  on  the  history  of  Bud- 
dhism :  C.  F.  Kbppen,  Die  Religion  des  Buddha,  Berlin,  1859, 
ii.  10  ;  W.  Wassilieff,  Der  Buddhismus,  St.  Petersburg,  1S60, 
p.  37  [Fr.  fcr.,  Paris,  18651 1  H.  Kern,  Geschiedenis  van  het 
Buddhisme,  Haarlem,  1SS1-S4,  ii.  232  [French  tr.  by  G.  Huet, 
Bibl.  d' Etudes  du  Muxec  Guimet,  x.  and  xi.,  1901-3],  Manual  of 
Indian  Buddhism  (GIAP  hi.  [1896]  8),  p.  101  ff. ;  H.  Olden- 
berg:,  Buddha,  sein  Leben  ...  p.  399  (5th  ed. ,  Stuttgart,  1906  ; 
2nd  Fr.  ed.,  Paris,  1903,  p.  337),  Introd.  to  Vinaya  Pifakam, 
p.  xxv,  London,  1879,  '  Buddhistisehe  Studien '  (ZDMG  lii. 
[1S98]  612) ;  J.  P.  Minayeff,  Buddizmu,  St.  Petersburg,  1S87, 
[Fr.  tr.  'Recherches  sur  le  bouddhisme,'  Bibl.  d'Et.  du  Muste 
Guimet,  iv.,  1894] ;  Vincent  A.  Smith,  Early  Hist,  of  India?, 
Oxford,  1908.  Some  monographs  may  be  noted  :  V.  A.  Smith, 
'The  Identity  of  Pivadasi  with  Asoka  Maurya  and  some  con- 
nected Problems'  (JRAS,  Oct.  1901,  pp.  827-S58);  L.  de  la 
Vallee  Poussin,  ( Les  Conciles  bouddhiques '  (Musdon,  1905  [tr., 
I A ,  190S]),  and  '  The  Five  Points  of  Mahadeva  and  the  Katha- 
vatthu '  (JRAS,  1910,  p.  413) ;  R.  O.  Franke,  '  The  Buddhist 
Councils  at  Rajagrha  and  Vesali'  (JRTS,  190S).  Original 
sources  are  chiefly :  Pali  Vinaya  (tr.  SBE  xiii.  xvii.  xx.) ; 
Tibetan  treatises  on  sects,  in  Wassilieff,  Buddhismus ;  Rock- 
hill,  Life  of  the  Buddha,  London,  1884 ;  Chinese  Pilgrims 
(Fahien  [tr.  Legge,  Oxford,  18S6] ;  Hiuen  Tsiang  [Watters, 
On  Yuan  Chwang,  London,  1904-5]). 

L.  de  la  Vallee  Poussin. 

COUNCILS  (Christian  :  Early,  to  A.D.  870).— 
I.  The  various  kinds  of  Councils. — The  Councils 
of  the  early  Church  may  be  classified  as  follows : 
(1)  Diocesan,  being  the  assembly  of  a  single 
diocese  ;  (2)  Provincial,  being  of  all  the  dioceses 
comprised  in  an  ecclesiastical  province ;  (3)  Coun- 
cils of  united  provinces,  being  assemblies  of  several 
neighbouring  provinces,  sometimes  called  Plenary 
Councils  (concilia  plenaria)  ;  (4)  Patriarchal,  being 
of  the  provinces  united  in  one  patriarchate,  some- 
times called  Plenary  or  Universal  Councils  (concilia 
plenaria  or  concilia  universalis) ;  (5)  National, 
being  of  the  provinces  existing  in  a  country, 
sometimes  called  Plenary  or  Universal  Councils, 
frequently  identical  with  Primatial  and  Patri- 
archal Councils ;  (6)  General  Councils  of  the  East 
or  of  the  West,  being  of  all  the  provinces  in  the 
East  or  the  West ;  (7)  General  Councils  repre- 
senting in  their  constitutions  the  whole  Church  ; 
(8)  Ecumenical  Councils,  being  Councils  whose 
decisions  were  accepted  by  the  whole  Church.1 
To  these  may  be  added  (9)  the  Councils  held  at 
Constantinople  in  the  4th  and  following  centuries, 
known  as  the  Home  Councils  (aivotim  evSvfiovo-ai) ; 
and  (10)  the  Mixed  Councils  (concilia  mixta)  of  the 
9th  and  following  centuries,  held  in  regard  to 
matters  of  Church  and  State. 

2.  The  constitution  of  Councils. — (1)  A  diocesan 
Council  consisted  normally  of  the  presbyters  of 
the  diocese,  meeting  under  the  presidency  of  the 
bishop.  The  rule  of  the  bishop  was  not  regarded 
as  being  rightly  exercised  altogether  independently 
of  the  presbyters,  although  he  had  the  power  and 
the  responsibility  of  decisions. 

In  the  letters  of  St.  Ignatius  of  Antioch  the  authority  of  the 
bishop  is  constantly  viewed  as  being  exercised  in  connexion 
with  the  presbyters  (see,  e.g.,  ad  Eph.  20  ;  ad  Magn.  6,  7  ;  ad 
Trail.  3).  St.  Cyprian  (Ep.  xiv.  4),  writing  to  his  presbyters 
and  deacons,  says :  '  From  the  beginning  of  my  episcopate  I 
determined  to  do  nothing  separately  of  my  own  judgment, 
without  your  advice  and  without  the  assent  of  the  laity.'  The 
advice  of  clergy  and  laity  was  sought  by  the  bishop  in  regard  to 
those  whom  he  ordained.  St.  Cyprian  (Ep.  xxxviii.  1)  writes  to 
his  presbyters  and  deacons  and  laity:  'In  the  ordination  of 
clergy  it  is  our  custom  to  consult  you  beforehand,  and  to  con- 
sider in  common  counsel  the  character  and  deserts  of  indi- 
viduals ' ;  and  a  canon  of  the  6th  cent.  Gallican  document, 
known  as  the  canons  of  the  '  Fourth  Council  of  Carthage ' 
(canon  22 ;  see  Hardouin,  Concilia,  i.  980),  which  passed  into 
the  general  Western  canon  law  (Decret.  I.  xxiv.  6),  enacted 
'  that  a  bishop  is  not  to  ordain  clergy  without  the  advice  of  his 
clergy,  so  that  he  may  Wok  for  the  assent  and  witness  of  the 
people.' 


1  The  nomenclature  is  not  uniform  ;  but  it  prevents  confusion 
to  use  '  General '  for  Councils  representative  of  the  whole  Church 
in  their  constitution,  and  'Ecumenical '  for  those  whose  decisions 
are  accepted  by  the  whole  Church. 


From  this  dependence  of  the  bishop  on  the  advice 
of  those  in  his  diocese  the  diocesan  Councils  had 
their  origin.  The  normal  constitution  of  such 
Councils  was  that  they  consisted  of  the  bishop  and 
presbyters  of  the  diocese,  though  in  important 
matters  other  bishops  were  sometimes  associated 
with  the  Council. 

For  instance,  a  Carthaginian  Council,  probably  earlier  than 
A.D.  249,  is  described  by  St.  Cyprian  (Ep.  i.  1)  as  composed  of 
'  I  and  my  fellow-bishops  who  were  present,  and  our  fellow- 
presbyters  who  sat  with  us.'  At  a  Roman  Council  held  a  little 
later  there  were  present,  besides  Cornelius  the  Bishop  of  Rome 
and  the  Roman  presbyters,  five  bishops  who  happened  to  be  at 
Rome  at  the  time  (Cornelius  in  Cypr.  Ep.  xlix.  2).  About  a.d. 
320,  Alexander,  Bishop  of  Alexandria,  summoned  a  Council  of 
the  presbyters,  together  with  certain  bishops  who  were  then  at 
Alexandria,  to  consider  the  case  of  Arius  (see  Epiph.  adv.  Hcer. 
lxix.  3).  A  6th  cent.  Gallican  canon  in  the  so-called  '  Fourth 
Council  of  Carthage '  (canon  23 ;  see  Hardouin,  i.  980),  which 
passed  into  the  general  Western  canon  law  (Decret.  n.  xv.  7 
[G]),  enacted  '  that  a  bishop  is  not  to  hear  the  case  of  any  one 
without  the  presence  of  his  clergy ;  and  the  judgment  of  the 
bishop  shall  be  void  if  it  is  not  confirmed  by  the  presence  of  the 
clergy. ' 

By  means  of  his  diocesan  Council  the  bishop 
had  the  advice  of  his  presbyters  and  their  assent 
to  his  decisions  in  the  exercise  of  discipline  and 
the  selection  of  candidates  for  ordination,  and, 
moreover,  knew  the  mind  of  his  diocese  when  he 
came  to  meet  other  bishops  in  the  larger  Councils. 

(2)  As  the  diocesan  Councils  arose  from  the 
relation  of  the  bishop  to  the  presbyters  of  his 
diocese,  so  the  provincial  and  larger  Councils  had 
their  origin  from  his  relation  to  the  other  bishops 
of  the  province.  The  local  Council  concerning 
Arius,  held  at  Alexandria  by  Bishop  Alexander, 
mentioned  above,  led  to  that  bishop  convening  a 
Council  of  many  bishops  (Socrates,  HE  i.  6).  The 
still  larger  Council  of  Nieasa  (A.D.  325)  was  also 
due  to  the  controversy  about  Arius  ;  and  this 
Council  formulated  a  specific  provision  for  the 
holding  of  provincial  Councils  in  order  that  the 
excommunications  of  individual  bishops  might  be 
revised  by  the  bishops  of  the  province,  and  the 
danger  of  injustice  consequently  lessened. 

'  In  regard  to  the  excommunicated,  whether  of  the  clergy  or 
of  the  laity,  the  sentence  passed  by  the  bishops  of  each  pro- 
vince shall  have  the  force  of  law  in  accordance  with  the 
canon  which  enacts  that  those  who  have  been  excommunicated 
by  some  bishops  shall  not  be  admitted  by  others.  Inquiry 
must,  however,  be  made  to  see  that  the  bishop  has  not  passed 
the  sentences  of  excommunication  from  smallness  of  mind,  or 
from  love  of  strife,  or  from  some  such  perversity.  In  order, 
then,  that  such  an  inquiry  may  be  held,  it  has  seemed  good 
to  decide  that  during  each  year,  in  each  province,  Councils 
be  held  twice  in  the  year,  that  all  the  bishops  of  the  province 
may  meet  together,  and  that  such  inquiries  be  made,  and 
that  thus  those  who  have  evidently  offended  against  their 
bishop  may  be  seen  by  all  to  have  been  reasonably  excom- 
municated, until  the  assembly  of  the  bishops  may  think  well 
to  pronounce  a  milder  sentence  in  their  case.  The  Councils 
are  to  be  held,  the  one  before  Lent,  in  order  that  all  smallness 
of  mind  may  be  put  away,  and  that  the  gift  may  be  offered 
to  God  in  pureness,  the  other  in  the  autumn '  (canon  5 ;  see 
Hardouin,  i.  323-326). 

This  canon  of  Nicsea  is  of  great  importance  as 
illustrating  (a)  the  purpose  of  revising  the  acts 
of  individual  bishops  by  the  holding  of  provincial 
Councils;  and  (b)  the  connexion  between  the 
exercise  of  the  bishop's  authority  and  his  power 
of  excommunication.  Similarly,  it  was  enacted  by 
the  Council  of  Antioch  in  341  that, 
'  if  any  one  be  excommunicated  by  his  own  bishop,  he  may  not 
be  admitted  by  other  bishops  unless  he  has  been  restored  by  his 
own  bishop,  or  unless  a  Council  has  been  held  and  he  has 
appeared  before  it  and  made  his  defence,  and  convinced  the 
Council  and  obtained  a  new  decision.  This  decree  applies  to 
laity  and  presbyters  and  deacons  and  all  ecclesiastics '  (canon  6  ; 
see  Hardouin,  i.  595). 

Apart  from  exceptions  at  Rome  at  the  end  of 
the  5th  cent.,  and  in  Spain  in  the  7th  cent.,  to 
be  mentioned  later,  the  constituent  members  of 
provincial  and  larger  Councils  were  bishops  only, 
though  presbyters  and  deacons  and  lay  people 
were  sometimes  present.  The  earliest  instances 
of  Councils  of  a  character  to  be  reckoned  with 
provincial  or  larger  Councils  are  those  held  during 


186 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


the  2nd  cent,  in  Asia  Minor  concerning  Montanism, 
and  in  many  places  concerning  the  date  of  Easter. 
Such  scanty  evidence  as  exists  about  these  Councils 
indicates  that  the  members  of  them  were  bishops 
only  (see  Euseb.  HE  v.  16,  23,  24  ;  Libellus  Synodi- 
cus,  in  Hardouin,  v.  1493-1496 ;  Salmon,  in  Smith- 
Wace,  DCB  iii.  938 ;  Hefele-Leclercq,  Conciles,  i. 
128-130,  151-153).  At  the  African  Councils  held 
in  the  middle  of  the  3rd  cent.,  presbyters  and 
deacons  and  lay  people  were  present  (see  Cypr. 
Epp.  xvi.  4,  xvii.  1,  3,  xix.  2,  xxx.  5,  xxxi.  6, 
xxxiv.  4,  lv.  5,  lix.  15,  lxiv.  1),  and  expressed  their 
opinions,  sometimes  in  opposition  to  that  of  their 
bishop  {ib.  xvii.  3,  lix.  15) ;  but  the  actual  decisions 
were  the  work  of  the  assembled  bishops,  who  alone 
were  the  constituent  members  of  the  Councils. 
For  instance,  a  Council  summoned  to  discuss  the 
question  of  the  validity  of  baptism  administered 
by  schismatics  was  held  at  Carthage  on  1st  Sept. 
256.  Besides  the  eighty-seven  bishops  from  pro- 
consular Africa,  Numidia,  and  Mauretania,  who 
were  the  members  of  the  Council,  there  were 
present  presbyters  and  deacons,  and  a  large 
number  of  lay  people.  That  only  the  bishops 
were  the  constituent  members  of  the  Council  is 
shown  by  the  judicial  pronouncements  being  their 
work  alone  (see  'Sententite  Episcoporum,'  in  S. 
Cypriani  Opera ;  cf.  Cypr.  Epp.  i.  1,  xix.  2,  xliv., 
xlv.  2,  4,  lix.  13,  lxiv.  1,  Ixx.  1,  lxxi.  1,  lxxii.  1, 
lxxiii.  1).  The  Councils  held  at  Antioch  in  264  or 
265,  and  269,  to  consider  the  charges  against  Paul 
of  Samosata,  are  described  by  Eusebius  as  con- 
sisting of  bishops.  Presbyters  and  deacons  were 
present  at  Antioch  in  connexion  with  the  Councils, 
and  at  one  of  them  a  presbyter  took  a  prominent 
part  in  the  discussions ;  but  there  is  no  reason  to 
suppose  that  these  Councils  differed  from  those  at 
Carthage,  so  as  to  include  others  besides  bishops  as 
constituent  members  possessing  votes,  though  the 
letter  written  to  announce  the  decision  of  the  last 
Council  of  the  series  was  in  the  name  of  '  bishops, 
presbyters,  and  deacons,  and  the  Churches  of  God ' 
(see  Euseb.  vii.  27-30).  Similarly,  the  Arabian 
Councils  about  244  consisted  of  bishops,  though 
Origen,  who  was  a  presbyter,  took  part  in  a  con- 
ference held  in  connexion  with  one  of  the  Councils, 
and  appears  to  have  spoken  in  the  actual  proceed- 
ings of  another  Council,  but  on  the  invitation  of 
the  bishops,  not  as  a  member  of  the  Council  (see 
Euseb.  vi.  33,  37).  The  constituent  members  of 
the  Councils  held  in  the  4th  cent,  were  bishops, 
and  any  presbyters  or  deacons  or  ecclesiastics  in 
minor  orders  who  might  be  the  representatives  of 
absent  bishops  and  empowered  to  vote  on  behalf 
of  those  whom  they  represented.  Thus,  at  Elvira 
in  305,  twenty-six  or  thirty-six  presbyters  were 
present,  had  seats,  and  signed  the  decrees  in  a 
group  after  the  bishops ;  deacons  were  present 
standing  ;  and  lay  people  were  present.  But  the 
decrees  were  described  as  the  decisions  of  the 
bishops  (see  '  Acts  of  Elvira,'  in  Hardouin,  i.  249, 
250).  In  like  manner,  at  Aries  in  314  some  pres- 
byters and  deacons  and  ecclesiastics  in  minor 
orders  were  present  in  attendance  on  bishops  or 
as  representatives  of  absent  bishops ;  but  the 
natural  inference  from  all  the  evidence  is  that 
the  only  constituent  members  of  the  Council,  that 
is,  those  with  a  right  to  be  present  and  vote,  were 
bishops  and  representatives  of  absent  bishops  (see 
'  Acts  of  Aries,  in  Hardouin,  i.  266-268  ;  cf.  Euseb. 
x.  5).  So  again,  at  Nica?a  in  325,  many  presbyters, 
deacons,  and  acolytes  were  present  as  attendants 
of  bishops;  Athanasius,  then  an  archdeacon  in 
attendance  on  the  Bishop  of  Alexandria,  was  pro- 
minent in  discussions  connected  with  the  Council  ; 
laymen  took  part  in  conferences  before  its  formal 
opening;  and  the  Emperor  Constantine,  though 
still  unbaptized,  was  present  at  some  of  the  pro- 


ceedings, as  the  head  of  the  State.  But  the 
accounts  of  all  the  authorities  show  that  bishops 
and  representatives  of  absent  bishops  were  the 
only  constituent  members  of  the  Council  (see 
Euseb.  Vit.  Const,  iii.  6-14 ;  Socrates,  i.  8-14 ; 
Sozomen,  i.  15-25  ;  cf.  Bright,  The  Age  of  the 
Fathers,  1903,  i.  78). 

Till  nearly  the  end  of  the  5th  cent,  the  evidence 
suggests  the  same  conclusions  as  those  which  have 
been  mentioned  in  regard  to  the  Councils  of  the 
2nd  and  3rd  and  early  4th  cents.,  namely,  that 
at  provincial  and  larger  Councils  bishops  alone 
were  entitled  to  be  present  and  vote,  or,  if  unable 
to  attend  the  Council,  to  nominate  representatives 
with  power  to  vote  in  their  absence ;  that  they 
frequently  brought  with  them  to  Councils  presby 
ters  or  deacons  in  attendance  on  them  and  for 
purposes  of  consultation,  but  without  votes ;  and 
that  they  often  were  careful  to  ascertain  the  mind 
of  the  lay  people  about  the  matters  which  it  was 
the  work  of  the  Council  to  discuss  and  decide 
upon.  In  the  series  of  Roman  Councils  held  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  5th  cent,  and  during  the  early 
years  of  the  6th  cent.,  the  constitution  of  some 
Councils  was  the  same  as  already  described ;  in 
other  Councils  of  the  series  the  presbyters  and 
deacons,  who  were  the  precursors  of  the  cardinals, 
appear  to  have  held  a  position  like  that  of  the 
bishops.  For  instance,  presbyters  apparently 
shared  in  the  authority  of  the  bishops  at  the 
Council  held  in  495  (see  the  '  Acts,'  in  Hardouin, 
ii.  941-948) ;  and  both  presbyters  and  deacons  at 
that  held  in  499  {ib.  ii.  959-963).  A  different  instance 
of  others  than  bishops  being  members  of  provincial 
or  larger  Councils  is  in  the  Spanish  Councils  of  the 
7th  cent.,  which  included  abbots,  as,  for  example, 
the  Eighth  Council  of  Toledo  in  653  {ib.  iii.  967). ' 

3.  The  relation  of  the  laity  to  Councils. — It  is 
important  to  distinguish  two  separate  matters : 
the  position  of  the  Christian  laity  as  such,  that  is, 
as  members  of  the  Christian  society,  the  Church ; 
and  the  position  of  the  representatives  of  the 
State.  (1)  As  already  mentioned,  Christian  lay 
people — in  earlier  times  probably  a  multitude  who 
were  allowed  to  come  in,  and  probably  including 
women  as  well  as  men,2  and  in  later  times  selected 
representatives— were  present  at  Councils.  Neither 
in  diocesan  nor  in  larger  Councils  do  they  appear 
to  have  been  members  with  votes.  They  were 
present  in  order  that  they  might  (a)  express  their 
opinions  on  matters  under  discussion;  see,  e.g. , 
Cypr.  Epp.  xvii.  3,  lix.  15  ;  (6)  bring  abuses  to  the 
knowledge  of  Councils  ;  see,  e.g.,  canon  4  of  Fourth 
Council  of  Toledo  (633),  in  Hardouin,  iii.  580 ;  (c) 
know  the  decisions  which  the  members  of  the 
Councils  made  ;  see,  e.g.,  the  letter  of  Viventiolus, 
the  Archbishop  of  Lyons,  summoning  the  Council 
of  Epaon  (517),  in  Hardouin,  ii.  1046.  (2)  As  the 
friendship  of  the  State  towards  the  Church  in- 
creased, and  the  relations  between  them  became 
closer,  the  Emperors,  or  their  representatives,  and 
great  men  of  the  State  were  present  at  Councils. 
At  Nicsea  (325),  Constantine,  though  unbaptized, 
and  therefore  in  no  sense  a  representative  of  the 
Christian  laity,  was  present  (see  above) ;  and  the 
Emperors  were  represented,  and  were  in  some 
cases  present,  at  four  of  the  other  six  Ecumenical 
Councils  (see  below),  namely  at  Ephesus  (431), 
Chalcedon  (451),  Constantinople  (6S0),  and  Nica\i 
(787);  see  'Acts  of  Ephesus,'  p.  i.  cap.  xx.;  'Acts 
of  Chalcedon,'  Actsi.,  vi. ;  'Acts  of  Constantinople,' 

1  The  position  of  the  presbyters  in  the  Roman  Councils  and 
that  of  the  abbots  in  the  Spanish  Councils  mentioned  above 
probably  had  much  to  do  with  the  events  through  which  the 
English  provincial  Councils  in  the  13th  cent,  included  abbots 
and  priors  and  representatives  of  cathedral  and  collegiate 
chapters  and  of  beneficed  parochial  clergy.  This,  again,  was  one 
cause  of  the  privileges  of  the  Lower  Houses  of  the  Canterbury 
and  York  Convocations. 

2  Cf.  Ac  ]  14-26  for  a  parallel  in- Apostolic  times. 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


187 


Act  i. ;  'Acts  of  Nicsea,'  Acta  i.,  viii. ,  in  Hardouin, 
i.  1345-1348,  ii.  53,  463-465,  iii.  1056,  iv.  33-40, 
481-485.  Instances  of  illustrious  laymen,  present 
at  Councils  of  the  Church  as  representatives  of  the 
State,  are  not  infrequent  in  later  times,  particu- 
larly in  Spanish  and  Anglo-Saxon  Councils  ;  see, 
e.g.,  the  Acts  of  the  Roman  Council  of  495 
(Hardouin,  ii.  943) ;  the  Second  Council  of  Orange 
in  529  (ib.  1102) ;  eleven  out  of  the  series  of  sixteen 
Councils  held  at  Toledo  from  589  to  701,  the  laymen 
at  which  were  in  some  cases  chosen  by  the  Council 
itself,  and  in  other  cases  appointed  by  the  king  (ib. 
iii.) ;  and  the  Councils  at  Cloveshoo  in  747  and  822 
(ib.  iii.  1952,  1953,  iv.  1245).  Side  by  side  with 
these  Councils,  to  which  lay  representatives  of  the 
State  were  admitted,  there  were  Councils  restricted 
to  bishops,  as,  e.g.,  the  Sixth  and  Seventh  Councils 
of  Toledo  (638  and  646)  and  the  Councils  of  Hert- 
ford (673)  and  Hatfield  (680)  (see  Hardouin,  iii.  608- 
610,  623-625  ;  Bede,  HE  iv.  5,  17,  18  ;  cf.  Bright, 
Chapters  of  Early  Eng.  Ch.  Hist.3,  1897,  pp.  276, 
357,  358 ;  Hunt,  The  English  Church  from  its 
Foundation  to  the  Norman  Conquest,  1899,  pp.  137, 
151).  Lay  people  were  members  of  the  mixed 
Councils  held  on  matters  of  joint  interest  to  Church 
and  State  ;  and  these  sometimes  included  women, 
as,  e.g.,  the  abbess  Hilda  at  Whitby  (664),  and  the 
abbess  ^Elfleda  at  the  Council  on  the  Nidd  in 
Northumberland  (705)  (see  Hardouin,  iii.  993, 1826  ; 
Haddan-Stubbs,  Councils  and  Ecclesiastical  Docu- 
ments, 1869-1878,  iii.  101,  266). 

4.  The  convocation  of  Councils. — Diocesan  and 
provincial  Councils  were  convoked  by  the  bishop  of 
the  diocese  and  the  metropolitan  of  the  province 
respectively.  In  regard  to  larger  Councils  it  is 
necessary  to  consider  the  relation  of  ( 1 )  the  Emperor, 
and  (2)  the  Pope ;  and  any  initiative  of  the  Pope 
in  regard  to  local  Councils  may  be  discussed 
together  with  his  relation  to  the  larger  Councils. 

(1)  Each  of  the  seven  Ecumenical  Councils  was 
summoned  by  an  Emperor — Nicsea  (325)  by  Con- 
atantine  the  Great  (Euseb.  Vit.  Const,  iii.  5,  6);1 
Constantinople  (381)  by  Theodosius  I.  (Socrates, 
v.  8 ;  Sozomen,  vii.  7 ;  Theodoret,  HE  v.  7) ; 
Ephesus  (431)  by  Theodosius  II.  and  Valentinian 
III.  (see  'Acts  of  Ephesus,'  p.  i.  cap.  xix.,  xx.,  in 
Hardouin,  i.  1343-1348) ;  Chalcedon  (451)  by  Mar- 
cian  and  Valentinian  III.  (see  '  Acts  of  Chalcedon,' 
p.  i.  cap.  xxx.-xxxvi.,  ib.  ii.  45-52) ;  Constantinople 
(553)  by  Justinian  (see  'Acts  of  Constantinople,' 
Coll.  i.,  ib.  iii.  56) ;  Constantinople  (680-1)  by  Con- 
stantine  II.  (see  'Acts  of  Constantinople,'  Act  i., 
ib.  iii.  1056) ;  and  Nicsea  (787)  by  the  Emperor 
Constantine  VI.  and  the  Empress  Irene  (see  '  Acts 
of  Nicsea,'  'Divalis  sacra,' and  Act  i.,  ib.  iv.  21- 
24,  36). 

(2)  Pope  Victor  I.  appears  to  have  given  the 
initiative  for  the  holding  of  local  Councils  to  dis- 
cuss the  Paschal  question  in  the  2nd  century.  Poly- 
crates,  Bishop  of  Ephesus,  mentions  that  the  Asiatic 
Council  was  summoned  by  him  at  the  desire  of 
Victor  (see  his  letter  in  Euseb.  HE  v.  24).  This 
makes  it  probable  that  the  Councils  held  in  other 
places  at  the  same  time  on  the  same  question  were 
convoked  because  of  a  wish  expressed  by  Victor. 
The  relation  of  the  Popes  to  the  convoking  of  the 
seven  Ecumenical  Councils  must  be  considered  in 
some  detail,  (a)  It  came  to  be  believed  that  Pope 
Sylvester  I.  had  shared  in,  or  agreed  to,  the  sum- 
moning of  the  Council  of  Nicsea  (325)  by  Constan- 
tine.     In   the  address  of  the  Sixth   Ecumenical 

1  In  connexion  with  his  summoning  of  the  Council  as  well  as 
with  his  presence  at  it,  there  is  need  of  remembering  that  Con- 
Bt&ntine  was  still  unbaptized.  He  was  baptized  shortly  before 
his  death  by  Eusebius,  Bishop  of  Nicomedia  (see  Euseb.  Vit. 
Const,  iv.  61,  62 ;  Socrates,  i.  39 ;  Sozomen,  ii.  34 ;  Theodoret, 
HE  i.  32 ;  St.  Ambrose,  de  Obit.  Theod.  40 ;  St.  Jerome,  Chron. 
sub  anno  354.  This  evidence  is  too  early  and  strong  for  it  to  be 
credible  that  Constantine  was  baptized  at  an  earlier  date 
by  Sylvester,  Bishop  of  Rome  (pee  Liber  Pontificalia,  xxxiv.). 


Council  (Constantinople,  680)  to  Constantine  IV.  it 
is  said  that  Constantine  the  Great  and  Sylvester, 
Bishop  of  Rome,  summoned  the  Council  of  Nicsea 
(Hardouin,  iii.  1417),  and  in  the  Liber  Pontificalis 
(xxxiv.)  it  is  said  that  this  Council  was  held  with 
his  assent.  If  it  is  the  case,  as  Rufinus  (HE  i.  1) 
says,  that  Constantine  acted  in  accordance  with  the 
views  of  the  bishops,  there  is  strong  probability 
that  the  Bishop  of  Rome  would  be  one  of  those  con- 
sulted, (b)  The  Second  Ecumenical  Council,  held  at 
Constantinople  in  381,  was  summoned  from  the 
East  only,  and  no  Western  bishop  took  part  in  it. 
There  is  no  evidence '  and  no  probability  that  the 
Pope  had  anything  to  do  with  the  convocation  of 
it.  (c)  Pope  Celestine  I.  took  no  part  in  the  sum- 
moning of  the  Third  Ecumenical  Council,  held  at 
Ephesus  in  431.  (d)  The  circumstances  connected 
with  the  summoning  of  the  Fourth  Ecumenical 
Council,  held  at  Chalcedon  in  451,  are  complicated. 
They  justify  the  words  of  Pope  Leo  I.  himself, 
that  the  Council  was  held  '  by  the  command  of  the 
Christian  princes  and  by  the  consent  of  the  Apos- 
tolic See '  (St.  Leo,  Ep.  cxiv.  1),  and  the  courtly 
phrase  of  the  Emperor  Marcian,  that  the  Council 
was  to  take  place  at  the  suggestion  of  the  Pope 
(Opera  S.  Leonis,  Ep.  lxxiii.),  if  some  latitude  of 
interpretation  is  allowed  to  this  phrase.  They  are 
inconsistent  with  the  statement  of  the  bishops  of 
Moesia  in  their  letter  to  the  Emperor  Leo  that  the 
Council  had  been  assembled  '  by  the  order  of  Leo, 
the  Roman  pontiff,  who  is  truly  the  head  of  the 
bishops,  and  of  the  venerable  bishop  Anatolius ' 
('Acts  of  Chalcedon,'  cod.  encyc.  12,  'Ep.  Episc. 
Moes.  sec.  ad  Leonem  Imper.,'  in  Hardouin,  ii. 
710).  The  facts  are  as  follows.  After  the  '  Robber- 
Synod  '  of  Ephesus  in  449,  Pope  Leo  I.  asked  the 
Emperor  Theodosius  II.  to  summon  a  Council  of 
bishops  from  all  parts  of  the  world  to  meet  in  Italy 
(Ep.  xliv.).2  He  twice  repeated  the  same  request 
(Epp.  liv.,  Ixix. ),  though  on  the  second  occasion  he 
said  that  the  Council  would  be  unnecessary  if 
without  it  the  bishops  would  subscribe  an  orthodox 
statement  of  the  faith  (Ep.  Ixix.).  He  also  asked 
Valentinian  III.,  the  Western  Emperor,  and  his 
mother  and  his  wife,  Galla  Placidia  and  Licinia 
Eudoxia,  to  support  this  request  to  Theodosius 
(Epp.  Iv.-lviii.).  Soon  after  St.  Leo's  third  letter 
to  Theodosius,  that  Emperor  died.  His  successors, 
Pulcheria  and  Marcian,  wrote  to  St.  Leo  that  they 
were  willing  to  convoke  a  Council,  evidently  in- 
tending that  it  should  be  held  in  the  East  (St.  Leo, 
Ep.  lxxxiv.),  but  circumstances  had  changed  since 
St.  Leo  had  expressed  his  wish  for  a  Council,  and 
he  wrote  two  letters  to  Marcian  and  another  to 
Pulcheria,  dropping  the  wish  for  a  Council,  and 
in  the  second  letter  to  Marcian  urging  that  it 
would  not  now  be  advisable  to  hold  one  (Epp. 
lxxxii.,  lxxxiii.,  lxxxiv.).'  After  the  writing  of 
the  first  of  these  letters,  and  before  the  second  and 
third,  the  Emperor  Marcian  convoked  the  Fourth 
Ecumenical  Council.  When  the  Council  had  been 
summoned,  St.  Leo  wrote  two  letters  to  Marcian. 
In  the  first  of  them,  dated  24th  June  451,  he  said 
that  he  had  hoped  for  the  postponement  of  the 
Council,  but  that,  since  the  Emperor  had  deter- 
mined on  its  being  held,  he  would  not  offer  any 
hindrance,  and  appointed  representatives  to  be  pre- 
sent at  it  (Ep.  lxxxix.  1).  In  the  second  letter, 
dated  26th  June  451,  he  wrote  that,  though  he 
had  requested  the  postponement  of  the  Council, 
he  would  not  oppose  the  Emperor's  arrangements 

1  The  reference  to  the  letters  of  Pope  Damasus  to  Theodosius 
in  the  synodical  letter  preserved  by  Theodoret  (HE  v.  9)  con- 
cerns the  Council  of  3S2,  not  that  of  381  ;  see  v.  8. 

2  In  making  this  request,  St.  Leo  may  possibly  have  been  influ- 
enced by  the  appeals  made  to  him  by  Flavian  of  Constantinople 
and  Eusebius  of  DorylBeum :  see  G.  Amelli,  5.  Leone  Magiw  e 
VOriente,  Rome,  1882,  pp.  41-49 ;  Spicilegium  Cassinwc,  Monte 
Cassino,  1893,  i.  132-137. 


188 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


(Ep.  xc.  1).  (e)  The  attitude  of  Pope  Vigilius 
towards  the  Fifth  Ecumenical  Council,  held  at 
Constantinople  in  553,  was  in  some  respects  the 
opposite  of  that  of  St.  Leo  towards  the  Coun"'1 
of  Chalcedon.  In  his  condemnation  of  Theodoras 
of  Caesarea,  Pope  Vigilius  mentions  that  such  a 
Council  had  been  contemplated  at  a  meeting  at 
which  were  present,  besides  the  Emperor  and  the 
civil  officials,  many  bishops,  including  the  Bishop 
of  Constantinople  and  the  Bit-hop  of  Milan  {Fragm. 
damn.  Theod.,  in  Hardouin,  iii.  8).  Vigilius  himself 
more  than  once  expressed  a  wish  that  the  Council 
should  be  held  ('  Ep.  ad  univ.  Eccl.'  and  '  Constitu- 
tum,'  in  Hardouin,  iii.  3,  12,  13) ;  but  when  it  had 
been  convoked  by  the  Emperor  and  the  time  for 
holding  it  had  arrived,  he  desired  that  it  should  be 
postponed,  and  held  aloof  from  the  proceedings  of 
it  ('Acts  of  Constantinople,'  Coll.  i.,  ii.,  in  Har- 
douin, iii.  63-66).  (/)  Pope  Agatho  I.  took  no 
part  in  the  summoning  of  the  Sixth  Ecumenical 
Council,  held  at  Constantinople  in  680-681.  (g) 
It  was  stated  by  Pope  Adrian  I.  that  the  Seventh 
Ecumenical  Council,  held  at  Nicsea  in  787,  was  by 
his  appointment  ('Acts  of  Nicsea,'  '  Hadriani 
Scriptum,'  ib.  iv.  818) ;  but  the  Council  was  con- 
voked by  the  Empress  and  the  Emperor  on  the 
suggestion  of  Tarasius,  the  Bishop  of  Constanti- 
nople ('Acts  of  Nicsea,'  '  Apol.  ad  pop.  a  Tarasio,' 
ib.  iv.  24,  25),  and  the  only  fact  to  justify  the 
Pope's  statement  appears  to  be  the  practical  assent 
which  he  gave  after  receiving  the  letter  from  the 
Empress  and  the  Emperor  announcing  their  inten- 
tion of  convoking  the  Council  ('Acts  of  Nicsea,' 
'Divalis  sacra  ad  Hadrianum,'  ib.  iv.  21-24). 

S.  The  presidents  of  Councils. — The  president  of 
a  diocesan  Council  was  the  bishop  of  the  diocese, 
of  a  provincial  Council  the  metropolitan  of  the 
province,  and  of  a  larger  Council  the  chief  bishop 
present,  or  a  bishop  locally  eminent,  or  some 
bishop  of  special  note.  The  presidents  of  the 
seven  Ecumenical  Councils  were  as  follows,  (a) 
At  Nicsea  (325),  Hosius,  the  Bishop  of  Cordova,  pre- 
sided (see  the  list  of  signatures  in  Hardouin,  i. 
311,  312;  cf.  Socrates,  i.  13).  Possibly  the  reason 
why  he  held  this  position,  notwithstanding  the 
presence  of  Vito  and  Vincentius,  the  legates  of 
Pope  Sylvester  I.  (see  Euseb.  Vit.  Const,  iii.  7 ; 
Socrates,  i.  13 ;  Sozomen,  i.  17  ;  Theodoret,  i.  7 ; 
signatures  in  Hardouin,  i.  311,  312),  and  the  fact 
that  he  was  a  AVestern  bishop  presiding  in  a  Council 
held  in  the  East,  was  that  he  was  appointed  by  the 
Emperor  Constantine,  whose  chief  ecclesiastical 
adviser  he  was.  Both  St.  Athanasius  and  Theo- 
doret, however,  speak  as  though  his  prominence  at 
Councils  was  due  to  his  personal  eminence. 

St.  Athanasius  writes  :  '  It  is  unnecessary  that  I  should  speak 
of  the  great  Hosius,  happy  in  his  old  age,  a  true  confessor.  .  .  . 
This  aged  man  is  not  unknown,  but  of  the  greatest  distinction. 
What  Council  has  there  been  of  which  he  was  not  the  leader, 
and  in  which  by  his  right  words  he  did  not  convince  all?' 
(Apolog.  de  fuga,  6).  Theodoret,  after  quoting  this  passage, 
continues  :  '  Hosius  was  Bishop  of  Cordova,  and  was  prominent 
at  the  Council  of  Nicasa,  and  took  the  first  place  among  those 
who  assembled  at  Sardica '  (HE  ii.  15). 

It  is  unlikely  that  credit  ought  to  be  given  to  a 
statement  of  Gelasius  of  Cyzicus,  a  writer  in  the 
second  half  of  the  5th  cent. ,  universally  regarded 
as  usually  untrustworthy,  that  Hosius  presided  as 
the  representative  of  the  Pope  (see  his  Act.  Cone. 
Nic.  ii.  5).  (6)  At  Constantinople  (381)  the  pre- 
sidents were  successively  Meletius,  Bishop  of 
Antioch ;  Gregory  of  Nazianzus,  Bishop  of  Con- 
stantinople ;  and  Nectarius,  Bishop  of  Constanti- 
nople. Neither  the  Pope  nor  any  Papal  representa- 
tive was  present,  (c)  At  Ephesus  (431),  St.  Cyril 
of  Alexandria  was  president.  The  Acts  of  the 
Council  say  that  he  '  took  the  place  of  Celestine, 
the  most  holy  and  most  sacred  archbishop  of  the 
Romans '  (see  '  Acts  of  Ephesus,'  in  Hardouin,  i. 
1353,    1465,    1468,    1485,    1509,    1512,    1527,   etc.). 


Pope  Celestine  I.  sent  as  legates  the  bishops 
Arcadius  and  Projectus  and  the  presbyter  Philip- 
pus,  (d)  At  Chalcedon  (451)  the  Imperial  com- 
missioners (see  'Acts  of  Chalcedon,' in  Hardouin, 
ii.  53,  65,  68,  69,  89,  93,  113,  272,  273,  308), 
and  in  the  sixth  session  the  Emperor  Marcian 
(see  'Acts  of  Chalcedon,'  Act  vi.,  ib.  ii.  485- 
489),  acted  as  presidents ;  the  chief  place  among 
the  members  of  the  Council  was  held  by  the 
legates  of  Pope  Leo  I. — Paschasinus,  Lucentius, 
and  Boniface  (St.  Leo,  Epp.  lxxxix.,  ciii.  ;  cf.  'Ep. 
Syn.  Chalc.,'  in  Opera  S.  Leonis,  Ep.  xcviii.  1  ; 
'Acts  of  Chalcedon,'  Acts  i.,  iii.,  in  Hardouin,  ii. 
53,  310,  365). '  (e)  At  Constantinople  (553),  Euty- 
chius,  Bishop  of  Constantinople,  was  president 
(see  'Acts  of  Constantinople,'  Coll.  viii,  in  Har- 
douin, iii.  201) ;  the  Pope  was  neither  present  nor 
represented.  (/)  At  Constantinople  (680-681)  the 
Emperor  Constantine  IV.  presided  ('Acts  of  Con- 
stantinople,' Act  i.,  ib.  iii.  1056) ;  the  legates  of 
Pope  Agatho  I.,  the  presbyters  Theodore  and 
George,  and  the  deacon  John  held  the  first  place 
among  the  members  of  the  Council  ( '  Acts  of 
Constantinople,'  e.g.  Acts  i.,  xviii.,  ib.  iii.  1056, 
1401).  (g)  At  Nicsea  (787)  the  legates  of  Pope 
Adrian  I. — the  archpresbyter  Peter  and  the  abbot 
Peter — presided  ('Acts  of  Nicsea,'  Acts.i.,  vii.,  ib. 
iv.  28,  456). 

6.  The  ratification  of  Councils. — (1)  The  decrees 
of  the  seven  Ecumenical  Councils  received  civil 
sanction  from  the  Emperors :  (a)  in  the  case  of 
Nicsea  (325)  by  a  letter  from  the  Emperor  Constan- 
tine (see  Euseb.  Vit.  Const,  iii.  17-20 ;  Socrates,  i. 
9  ;  Sozomen,  i.  21 ;  Gelasius  of  Cyzicus,  Act.  Cone. 
Nic.  ii.  36) ;  (b)  in  the  case  of  Constantinople  (381) 
by  an  edict  of  the  Emperor  Theodosius  I.  (see 
Socrates,  v.  8 ;  Sozomen,  vii.  9) ;  (c)  in  the  case  of 
Ephesus  (431)  in  substance  by  letters  and  decrees 
of  the  Emperors  Theodosius  II.  and  Valentinian 
III.  (see  'Acts  of  Ephesus,'  in  Hardouin,  i.  1616, 
1669,  1716);  (d)  in  the  case  of  Chalcedon  (451)  by 
the  decrees  and  letters  of  the  Emperors  Valentinian 
III.  and  Marcian,  and  a  letter  of  the  Empress 
Pulcheria  (see  '  Acts  of  Chalcedon,'  p.  iii.  cap.  iii.  — 
xiii.,  ib.  ii.  660-688);  (e)  in  the  case  of  Constanti- 
nople (553)  by  an  approbation  of  the  Emperor 
Justinian,  if  we  may  trust  the  statement  of  Zonaras 
(Ann.  xiv.  8),  which  in  this  matter  has  the  support 
of  strong  general  probability ; 2  (/)  in  the  case  of 
Constantinople  (680-681)  by  thesignature  and  edict 
of  the  Emperor  Constantine  IV.  (see  '  Acts  of  Con- 
stantinople,' Act  xviii.,  'Edict.  Const.,'  in  Har- 
douin, iii.  1436,  1445-1457,  1633-1639) ;  (g)  in  the 
case  of  Nicsea  (787)  by  the  signing  of  the  decrees  of 
the  Council  by  the  Empress  Irene  and  the  Emperor 
Constantine  VI.  (see  'Acts  of  Nicsea,'  Act  viii.,  ib. 
iv.  4S5).S 

(2)  With  the  exception  of  the  Second  Council 
and  the  canons  of  the  Fourth,  the  decrees  of  the 
seven  Ecumenical  Councils  were  (a)  subscribed  by 
the  Papal  legates,  or  (b)  both  so  subscribed  and 
subsequently  approved  by  the  Pope,  or  (c)  eventu- 
ally approved  by  the  Pope.  The  decisions  of 
Nicsea  (325)  were  subscribed  by  the  Papal  legates 
(see  'Acts  of  Nicsea,'  in  Hardouin,  i.  311-312); 
those  of  Ephesus  (431)  were  subscribed  by  the 
Papal  legates  and  referred  to  with  approval  in 
letters  by  Pope  Sixtus  III.  (see  '  Acts  of  Ephesus,' 
ib.   i.    1527 ;    '  Epp.   Xysti  III.   ad    Cyrillum,'    in 

1  Julian,  Bishop  of  Cos,  and  a  presbyter  Basil  are  also  said  to 
have  been  appointed  as  papal  legates,  but  do  not  appear  to 
have  held  the  same  position  at  the  Council  as  the  three  men- 
tioned above  (see  St.  Leo,  Epp.  lxxxvi.,  xc,  xcii.,  xciii.)- 

2  The  evidence  afforded  about  this  Council  by  Zonaras  is  not 
valuable ;  but  there  is  no  reason  for  doubting  his  statement 
referred  to  above. 

3  There  is  no  record  in  this  case  of  a  formal  edict  after  the 
Council ;  but  the  whole  course  of  events  after  the  Council  shows 
that  the  decrees  were  regarded  by  the  State  authorities  as  bqing 
in  force. 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


189 


Coustant,  Epp.  Rom.  Pontif.  col.  1231-1240) ;  those 
of  Chalcedon  (451)  were  subscribed  by  the  Papal 
legates  and  accepted  by  Pope  Leo  I.  (see  '  Acts  of 
Chalcedon,'  in  Hardouin,  ii.  465-468  ;  St.  Leo,  Ep. 
cxiv.);  those  of  Constantinople  (680-681)  were 
subscribed  by  the  Papal  legates  and  accepted  by 
Pope  Leo  II.  (see  '  Acts  of  Constantinople,'  in 
Hardouin,  iii.  1424,  1425,  1469-1478,  1729-1736) ; 
and  those  of  Nictea  (787)  were  subscribed  by  the 
Papal  legates  and  accepted  by  Pope  Adrian  I.  (see 
'  Acts  of  Nicsea,'  ib.  iv.  456,  819).  In  the  case  of 
the  Fifth  Council,  held  at  Constantinople  in  553, 
Pope  Vigilius  at  iirst  dissented  from  the  action  of 
the  Council  (Vigilius,  Constitutum  of  553,  ib.  iii. 
10-48),  and  the  Council  struck  his  name  from 
the  diptychs  ('Acts  of  Constantinople,'  Coll.  vii., 
ib.  iii.  186,  187) ;  but  he  afterwards  changed  his 
mind  and  declared  his  approval  of  the  decisions 
(Vigilius,  Ep.  Decret.  ;  Constitutum  of  554,  in 
Hardouin,  iii.  213-244). 

7.  The  relation  of  the  Emperor  to  Councils. — 
After  the  time  of  Constantine  the  Great,  the  close 
relations  between  Church  and  State  led  not  only 
to  the  summoning  of  Councils  and  the  ratification 
of  their  decrees  by  the  Emperors,  but  also  to  an 
influence — sometimes  greater,  sometimes  less — in 
many  other  ways.  But,  whatever  the  aggressive- 
ness of  certain  Emperors  and  the  sycophancy  of 
prominent  members  of  the  Church  at  some  times, 
the  State  recognized,  and  the  Church  maintained, 
that  the  work  of  ecclesiastical  decisions  and  legis- 
lation belonged  to  the  Church,  not  to  the  State. 
A  few  instances  from  Church  and  State  may 
suffice  to  illustrate  this  fact.  Both  the  Second 
and  the  Third  Ecumenical  Councils,  in  asking  the 
Emperor  Theodosius  I.  and  the  Emperors  Theo- 
dosius  and  Valentinian  III.  respectively  to  ratify 
their  decisions,  spoke  of  the  decisions  themselves 
as  wholly  their  own  work,  independently  of  the 
State  (see  '  Acts  of  Constantinople,'  381,  and  '  Acts 
of  Ephesus,'  Act  v.,  in  Hardouin,  i.  808,  1501- 
1510).  The  Emperor  Constantine  the  Great,  in 
giving  circulation  to  the  decrees  of  the  First  Ecu- 
menical Council,  said  :  '  Whatever  is  determined 
in  the  holy  assemblies  of  the  bishops  is  to  be  re- 
garded as  showing  the  will  of  God '  (Euseb.  Vit. 
Const,  iii.  20).  The  Emperors  Theodosius  II.  and 
Valentinian  III.  wrote  to  the  Third  Ecumenical 
Council  that  they  had  sent  Candidian  to  be  their 
representative,  '  to  have  no  share  in  the  discussions 
which  may  take  place  about  doctrine  ;  for  it  is 
unlawful  that  one  who  is  not  on  the  list  of  the 
holy  bishops  should  mingle  in  the  affairs  of  the 
Church'  ('Acts  of  Ephesus,'  p.  i.  cap.  xx.,  in 
Hardouin,  i.  1345).  The  Emperor  Marcian  ad- 
dressed the  Fourth  Ecumenical  Council  :  '  Our  will 
to  be  present  at  the  Council  is  that  we  may  ratify 
those  things  which  are  done,  not  that  we  may 
exercise  any  power  '  ('  Acts  of  Chalcedon,'  Act  vi., 
ib.  ii.  465).  The  historian  Theodoret  records  a 
dialogue  between  the  Emperor  Constantius  II.  and 
Pope  Liberius,  in  which  Liberius  insisted,  and 
incurred  banishment  for  insisting,  that  St.  Atha- 
nasius  must  not  be  condemned  without  a  fair  trial 
by  ecclesiastical  authorities  and  a  sentence  passed 
upon  him  after  such  a  trial  in  accordance  with  the 
rules  of  the  Church  (see  Theodoret,  HE  ii.  16). 
The  same  principle  of  the  independence  of  the 
Church  is  emphatically  declared  in  the  letter 
written  by  Hosius,  Bishop  of  Cordova,  to  the 
Emperor  Constantius  II. ,  in  which  he  said : 

'  Push  not  yourself  into  the  affairs  of  the  Church,  neither  give 
commands  to  us  about  them ;  but  rather  do  you  learn  them 
from  us.  God  has  committed  to  your  hands  a  kingdom.  He 
has  entrusted  us  with  the  affairs  of  the  Church.  And  as  he 
who  should  steal  your  rule  would  be  resisting  God  who  ap- 
pointed it,  so  do  you  be  afraid  on  your  part  to  take  upon  your- 
self the  affairs  of  the  Church  and  become  guilty  of  a  great 
offence.     It  is  written,  "  Render  unto  Caesar  the'  things  that 


are  Caesar's,  and  unto  God  the  things  that  are  God's."  There- 
fore it  is  not  lawful  for  us  to  bear  rule  upon  the  earth,  and  you, 
Sire,  have  not  authority  to  burn  incense.  .  .  .  This  is  my 
determination  ;  I  unite  not  with  the  ArianB,  but  I  anathematize 
their  heresy.  I  subscribe  not  against  Athanasius,  whom  we 
and  the  Church  of  the  Romans  and  the  whole  council  acquitted  ' 
(St.  Athan.  Hist.  Avian.  44). 

Such  instances  show  that,  while  the  Church 
acquiesced  in  the  use  of  the  most  extravagant 
language  to  describe  the  Emperor,  as  when  the 
Imperial  commissioners  and  others  called  him  'the 
divine  head,'  '  the  divine  and  immortal  head,'  'our 
most  divine  lord,'  or  when  a  letter  from  him  was 
styled  a  '  divine  letter '  (see,  e.g.,  'Acts  of  Ephesus,' 
p.  i.  cap.  19,  20  ;  '  Epp.  Cath.'cap.  17,  and  '  Acts  of 
Chalcedon,'  p.  i. ;  '  Epp.'  20,  36,  Acts  iv.,  xi.,  xiv.  p. 
iii.  cap.  5.  7,  in  Hardouin,  i.  1344,  1345,  1616,  ii. 
36,  52,  413,  545,  572,  664,  668),  it  was  not  allowed 
that  the  Emperor  had  any  right  to  dictate  what 
the  Councils  should  do. 

8.  The  relation  of  the  Pope  to  Councils. — The 
subject  of  the  relation  of  the  Popes  to  the  con- 
voking and  confirming  of  Councils  has  been  dealt 
with  above.  It  is  necessary  to  examine  also  the 
view  of  the  Papal  authority  taken  by  the  Councils. 
As  of  the  Emperor,  so  of  the  Pope,  language  of  a 
strong  kind  was  used  at  and  by  the  Councils.  It 
must  suffice  to  quote  some  of  the  most  remarkable 
instances.  At  Ephesus  (431)  the  Papal  legate 
Philip  described  St.  Peter  as  '  the  prince  and  head 
of  the  Apostles,  the  pillar  of  the  faith,  and  the 
foundation  of  the  Catholic  Church  ' ;  declared  that 
he  '  up  to  this  time  and  always  lives  in  his  suc- 
cessors and  gives  judgment ' ;  and  in  this  context 
referred  to  Pope  Celestine  as  the  '  successor  and 
representative  of  St.  Peter  ('Acts  of  Ephesus,'  in 
Hardouin,  i.  1477,  1478) ;  and  the  Fathers  of  the 
Council,  in  giving  sentence  against  Nestorius,  used 
the  words,  '  necessarily  impelled  by  (dir<5)  the 
canons  and  by  (4k)  the  letter  of  our  most  holy 
Father  and  fellow-minister,  Celestine,  Bishop  of 
the  Roman  Church'  ('Acts  of  Ephesus,'  Act  i., 
ib.  i.  1421,  1422).  At  Chalcedon  (451)  the  Papal 
legate  Paschasinus  called  the  Pope  the  '  head  of 
all  the  Churches'  ('Acts  of  Chalcedon,'  Act  i.,  ib. 
ii.  67,  68)  ;  and  the  Fathers  of  the  Council  in  their 
letter  to  the  Emperor  Marcian  spoke  of  the  Pope 
as  the  '  invulnerable  champion '  whom  '  God  pro- 
vided,' and  in  their  letter  to  Pope  Leo  described 
him  as  the  '  head  '  of  which  they  were  the  '  mem- 
bers,' and  as  him  to  whom  '  was  entrusted  by  the 
Saviour  the  guarding  of  the  vine,'  the  Church 
('Acts  of  Chalcedon,'  p.  iii.  cap.  1,  2,  ib.  ii.  643, 
644,  655,  656).  At  Constantinople  (680-681)  the 
Fathers  of  the  Council  wrote  to  Pope  Agatho  : 
'  We  commit  to  thee,  as  the  chief  ruler  of  the 
universal  Church  standing  on  the  firm  rock  of 
the  faith,  what  is  to  be  done,'  to  give  effect  to 
the  decisions  of  the  Council ;  and  described  the 
Pope's  letter  to  the  Emperor  as  '  uttered  about 
divine  truth  by  the  chief  head  of  the  Apostles ' 
('Acts  of  Constantinople,'  Act  xviii.,  ib.  iii.  1437- 
1440).  Yet,  notwithstanding  all  such  statements, 
the  Councils  did  not  regard  the  Papal  utterances 
as  settling  anything  ;  they  examined  and  tested 
the  judgment  of  the  Popes  ;  they  assented  to  these 
as  conforming  to  orthodox  standards ;  they  did 
not  shrink  from  declaring  a  Pope  to  be  a  heretic. 
At  Ephesus  (431)  the  condemnation  of  Nestorius 
was  not  passed  until  after  the  most  elaborate  con 
sideration  of  his  case,  though  the  letter  of  Pope 
Celestine  condemning  him  was  before  them  ('  Acts 
of  Ephesus,'  Act  i.,  ib.  i.  1353-1434).  At  Chal- 
cedon (451)  there  was  a  like  examination  of  the 
Tome  of  Pope  Leo,  and  it  was  eventually  approved 
as  being  '  consonant  with  the  confession  of  great 
Peter'  ('Acts  of  Chalcedon,'  Act  v.,  ib.  ii.  455, 
456).  The  Fifth  Ecumenical  Council,  held  at  Con- 
stantinople in  553,  insisted  on  condemning  Theo- 


190 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


dore  of  Mopsuestia  and  Theodoret,  in  spite  of  the 
resistance  of  Pope  Vigilius  ('Acts  of  Constanti- 
nople,' Coll.  viii.,  ib.  iii.  187-208).  The  Sixth 
Ecumenical  Council,  held  at  Constantinople  in 
6S0-681,  anathematized  Pope  Honorius  I.  as  a 
heretic ;  and  with  reference  to  the  letters  of 
Sergius  and  Honorius  declared  : 

'  We  find  that  these  documents  are  altogether  alien  from  the 
doctrines  of  the  Apostles  and  the  decisions  of  the  holy  Councils 
and  all  the  accepted  holy  Fathers,  and  that  they  follow  the 
false  teachings  of  the  heretics.  We  entirely  reject  them,  and 
we  execrate  them  as  destructive  to  the  soul.  Moreover,  we 
have  determined  that  the  names  of  the  very  men  whose  doc- 
trines we  execrate  as  impious  are  to  be  cast  out  from  the  holy 
Church  of  God,  namely  Sergius.  .  .  .  And  besides  these,  we 
have  decided  that  Honorius,  who  was  Pope  of  the  elder  Rome, 
is  to  be  cast  out  of  the  holy  Church  of  God  and  anathematized 
together  with  them.  ...  To  Theodore  of  Pharan,  the  heretic, 
anathema.  To  Sergius,  the  heretic,  anathema.  To  Cyrus,  the 
heretic,  anathema.  To  Honorius,  the  heretic,  anathema.  To 
Pyrrhus,  the  heretic,  anathema '  ('  Acts  of  Constantinople,' 
Acts  xiii.,  xvi.,  in  Hardouin,  iii.  1332,  1333,  1385). 

A  comparison  of  the  different  parts  of  the  evi- 
dence shows  that,  while  the  Pope  was  regarded  as 
the  chief  bishop  of  Christendom,  and  while  his 
authority  and  influence  were  great,  the  Councils 
held  that  it  was  for  them  and  not  for  him  to  decide 
in  matters  of  doctrine  and  discipline  ;  and  that, 
while  the  ordinary  and  normal  desirable  process 
was  that  Pope  and  Council  should  be  in  agreement, 
and  that  what  the  Council  decided  the  Pope  should 
accept  and  give  effect  to,  a  necessity  might  arise 
of  a  Council  taking  its  own  line  in  opposition  to  a 
Pope,  and  even  of  condemning  him  as  heretical. 

As  regards  the  disciplinary  power  of  the  Pope, 
regulations  of  the  Councils  of  Nicaea  (325)  and 
Sardica  (343)  are  of  special  importance.  Canon  6 
of  Nicaea  assumes  the  possession  by  the  Pope  of 
a  certain  patriarchal  authority  in  Italy,  parallel 
with  that  of  other  patriarchs  elsewhere,  referred 
to  as  an  illustration  in  a  way  which  may  imply  a 
primacy  on  the  part  of  Rome  : 

'  The  old  customs  in  Egypt  and  Libya  and  PentapoliB  are  to  be 
preserved  so  that  the  Bishop  of  Alexandria  shall  have  authority 
over  all  these,  since  this  is  customary  also  in  the  case  of  the 
Bishop  of  Rome.  In  like  manner,  in  Antioch  and  in  the  other 
provinces  the  rights  are  to  be  preserved  to  the  Churches.' 
Canons  3,  4,  and  5  of  Sardica  provide  for  appeals 
to  Rome  in  certain  cases.  They  enact  that,  if  a 
bishop  has  been  deposed  by  the  bishops  of  his  pro- 
vince, there  may  be  an  appeal  to  the  Bishop  of 
Rome,  who  is  to  decide  whether  the  appeal  is  to 
be  allowed  or  not ;  if  it  is  allowed,  the  Pope  is  to 
nominate  bishops  from  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
province  in  question  to  act  as  the  court  for  the 
second  hearing  of  the  case ;  if  the  appellant  can 
persuade  the  Pope  to  do  so,  the  Pope  may  send 
presbyters  of  his  own  to  act  as  his  legates  (eZrai 
eV  t#  i^ovtjlq.  ain-ou  tov  iinvKbirov  .  .  .  %~xovt6.s  re  tt\v 
aidevTlav  toittov  Trap  of)  dire<rrd\i)<rai>)  in  the  court 
thus  formed. 

9.  The  authority  of  Councils.— The  degree  of 
authority  which  a  Council  possessed  varied  greatly 
with  its  character.  A  local  Council  in  itself  could 
make  no  claim  to  acceptance  wider  than  in  the 
locality  to  which  it  belonged,  and  its  decisions 
were  always  open  to  revision  by  a  larger  and  more 
representative  body.  Thus,  a  diocesan  Council 
had  authority  for  its  diocese,  and  a  provincial 
Council  for  its  province,  but  in  each  case  this 
authority  was  subject  to  appeal  from  the  diocese  to 
the  province,  from  the  province  to  a  union  of  pro- 
vinces, and  from  any  smaller  Council  to  a  Council 
of  the  whole  Church  ;  and  as  the  Council  was  more 
fully  representative,  so  its  authority  was  greater. 
But  a  Council,  'however  fully  representative  in 
constitution,  was  not  finally  authoritative  simply 
because  of  that  constitution.  The  ratification  of 
its  decrees  by  the  Emperor  gave  civil  sanction, 
and  the  assent  to  them  by  the  Pope  supplied  a 
further  ecclesiastical  step  (cf.  the  famous  saying  of 
St.  Augustine,  '  lam  enim  de  hac  causa  duo  con- 


cilia missa  sunt  ad  sedem  apostolicam  :  inde  etiam 
rescripta  venerunt.  Causa  finita  est :  utinam 
aliquando  finiatur  error '  [Serm.  cxxxi.  10]).  But 
the  Council  did  not  become  Ecumenical,  in  the 
sense  in  which  that  word  has  been  here  used,  and 
so  completely  binding  on  the  whole  body  of  the 
Church,  without  the  general  acceptance  by  the 
Church  of  its  doctrinal  decisions,  since  a  Council, 
however  representative  in  constitution,  might  fail 
to  represent  the  real  mind  of  the  Church,  just  as  a 
civil  body  of  the  most  completely  representative 
character,  so  far  as  constitution  is  concerned, 
might  fail  to  represent  the  real  wishes  of  the 
nation  which  elected  it.  This  acceptance  by  the 
whole  body  of  the  Church  was  given  to  each  of 
the  seven  Councils  which  have  here  been  called 
'  Ecumenical.'  In  the  case  of  these  Councils  the 
acceptance  was  not  always  easily  or  immediately 
received.  For  instance,  the  First  Ecumenical  Coun- 
cil, that  of  Nicaea  (325),  proved  to  be  the  occasion 
of  controversy  rather  than  the  settlement  of  it, 
and  did  not  receive  universal  acceptance  for  more 
than  fifty  years,  until  after  the  Second  Ecumenical 
Council,  that  of  Constantinople  (381)  ;  and  the 
decisions  of  the  Seventh  Ecumenical  Council,  that 
of  Nicaea  (787),  were  for  a  long  time  without  ac- 
ceptance in  the  West,  were  actually  rejected  by 
the  Council  of  Frankfort  (794)  under  a  misunder- 
standing of  their  meaning,1  and  only  gradually 
came  to  that  recognition  in  the  West  which,  added 
to  the  Eastern  acceptance,  constituted  universal 
approbation.  An  instance  of  the  way  in  which  a 
Council  not  representative  of  the  whole  Church  by 
its  constitution  may  become  Ecumenical  through 
universal  acceptance  of  its  doctrinal  teaching  is  in 
the  Second  Ecumenical  Council,  that  of  Constanti- 
nople (381),  which  was  summoned  from  the  East 
only,  and  which  no  Western  bishop  attended.  The 
authority  of  the  Ecumenical  Councils  is  thus  that 
of  the  whole  Church.  The  idea  of  authority, 
whether  as  resident  in  the  Church  or  as  expressed 
by  Councils,  was  based  on  the  belief  that  the 
Church,  under  the  guidance  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  waB 
giving  effect  to  the  teaching  of  Holy  Scripture 
and  the  deposit  of  faith  committed  by  our  Lord 
to  His  apostles.  St.  Athanasius  described  the 
work  of  the  orthodox  bishops  at  Nicaea  (325)  as 
having  been  '  to  collect  the  sense  (dtavoia.)  of  the 
Scriptures '  (de  Deer.  Nic.  Syn.  20).  The  work 
done  at  Constantinople  (381)  was  described  by  the 
bishops  who  met  at  Constantinople  in  the  following 
year,  who  were  almost  the  same  as  those  of  the 
Council  of  381,  in  the  words  : 

'  We,  whether  we  have  endured  persecutions  or  tribulations  or 
the  threats  of  monarchs  or  the  cruelties  of  rulers  or  some  other 
trial  at  the  hands  of  the  heretics,  have  borne  these  for  the 
sake  of  the  faith  of  the  gospel  which  was  ratified  at  Nicaaa  in 
Bithynia,  by  the  three  hundred  and  eighteen  holy  Fathers 
under  the  guidance  of  God.  For  this  which  we  have  been 
at  pains  to  preserve  ought  to  be  sufficient  for  you  and  for  us 
and  for  all  who  do  not  wrest  the  word  of  the  true  faith.  It  is 
the  most  ancient  faith.  It  is  in  accordance  with  our  baptism. 
It  teaches  us  to  believe  in  the  name  of  the  Father  and  of  the 
Son  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  consequently  in  one  Godhead 
and  Power  and  Essence  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son  and  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  the  dignity  being  equal  and  the  majesty  co- 
eternal  ;  in  three  wholly  perfect  Subsistences  or  three  perfect 
Persons.  .  .  .  We  also  preserve  unperverted  the  doctrine  of 

1  The  Council  of  Nicaea  (787)  affirmed  the  lawfulness  of 
'  reverence  of  honour '  (TijLnjnfrij  7rpotr*cvtoj<ny)  addressed  to  the 
images  of  our  Lord  and  the  Baints,  but  condemned  any  offering 
of  '  real  worship  of  adoration '  {aXt)Bivri  ka.7peia)  to  them  ('  Acts 
of  Nicsea,'  Act  vii.,  in  Hardouin,  iv.  456).  What  the  Council 
of  Frankfort  (794)  rejected  was  the  offering  of  adoration : 
'  Allata  est  in  medium  quaestio  de  nova  Graecorum  synodo  quam 
de  adorandis  imaginibus  Constantinopoli  [obviously  a  blunder 
for  NicaBa]  fecerunt,  in  qua  scriptum  habebatur  ut  qui  imagini- 
bus  sanctorum  ita  ut  deificae  Trinitati  servitium  aut  adora- 
tionem  non  impenderent  anathema  iudicarentur.  Qui  supra 
sanctissimi  patres  nostri  omnimodis  adorationem  et  servitium 
renuentes  contempserunt  atque  consentientes  condemnaver- 
unt '  (canon  2  in  Hardouin,  iv.  904).  This  ascribes  to  the  Nicene 
Council  (787)  exactly  what  that  Council  had  rejected— the  offer- 
ing to  images  of  the  adoration  due  to  the  Holy  Trinity. 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


191 


the  Incarnation  of  the  Lord,  receiving:  the  tradition  that  the 
dispensation  of  the  flesh  is  not  without  soul  or  without  reason 
or  imperfect,  and  being-  fully  convinced  that  the  Word  of  God 
was  perfect  before  the  ages  and  became  perfect  man  in  the 
last  days  for  our  salvation  *  (see  Theodoret,  HE  v.  9). 

At  Ephesus  (431)  the  bishops  gave  as  their  reason 
for  the  approval  of  the  letters  of  St.  Cyril  that 
they  '  were  in  no  respect  discordant  with  the 
Scriptures  inspired  by  God  or  with  the  faith  which 
has  been  handed  down,  which  was  set  forth  in  the 
great  Council  by  the  holy  Fathers  who  assembled 
at  Nicsea,'  and,  as  their  reason  for  the  condemna- 
tion of  Nestorius,  that  his  teaching  was  '  wholly 
alien  from  the  faith  of  the  Apostles  and  the 
gospel'  ('Acts  of  Ephesus,'  Act  v.,  in  Hardouin, 
i.  1505).  At  Chalcedon  (451)  the  letter  of  St.  Cyril 
of  Alexandria  to  John  of  Antioch  was  read,  con- 
taining the  following  passage : 

'  Concerning-  the  Virgin  Mother  of  God  how  we  both  think 
and  say,  and  concerning"  the  manner  of  the  Incarnation  of  the 
Only- Begotten  Son  of  God,  we  will  speak  briefly,  necessarily, 
not  by  way  of  addition,  but  as  a  full  completion,  as  we  have 
received  from  the  beginning  from  the  divine  Scriptures  and 
from  the  tradition  of  the  holy  Fathers.' 
The  Tome  of  St.  Leo,  which  also  was  read  to  the 
Council,  appealed  chiefly  to  the  evidence  of  Holy 
Scripture,  but  likewise  to  the  creed  confessed  by 
the  whole  body  of  Christians.  After  the  Tome  had 
been  read,  the  bishops  exclaimed  : 

'  This  is  the  faith  of  the  Fathers.  This  is  the  faith  of  the 
Apostles.  Thus  do  we  all  believe.  Thus  do  the  orthodox 
believe.  Anathema  to  him  who  does  not  so  believe.  Peter 
has  spoken  thus  through  Leo.  Thus  did  the  Apostles  teach. 
Piously  and  truh/  has  Leo  taught.  Thus  taught  Cyril.  Eternal 
be  the  memory  of  Cyril.  Leo  and  Cyril  taught  alike.  Thus 
raught  Leo  and  Cyril.  Anathema  to  him  who  does  not  so 
believe.  This  is  the  true  faith.  Thus  are  we,  the  orthodox, 
minded.  This  is  the  faith  of  the  Fathers '  ('  Acts  of  Chalcedon,' 
Act  i.,  ii.,  in  Hardouin,  ii.  121,  305). 
At  Constantinople  (553)  the  bishops  declared  : 

'  Being  gathered  together,  before  all  things  we  have  briefly 
confessed  that  we  hold  that  faith  which  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
true  God,  delivered  to  His  holy  Apostles,  and  through  them  to 
the  holy  Churches,  and  which  the  holy  Fathers  and  doctors 
who  succeeded  them  delivered  to  the  peoples  committed  to 
their  care ' ;  and  described  themselves,  in  their  condemnation  of 
heresy,  as  lighting  'the  light  of  knowledge  from  the  divine 
Scriptures  and  the  teaching  of  the  Apostles'  ('Acts  of  Con- 
stantinople,' 553,  Coll.  viii.,  in  Hardouin,  iii.  189,  194). 
The  bishops  at  Constantinople  (680-681)  stated  : 

'  We  have  examined  the  synodical  letter  of  Sophronius  of 
holy  memory,  once  patriarch  of  the  holy  city  of  Christ  our  God, 
Jerusalem  ;  and,  as  we  have  found  it  to  be  in  harmony  with 
the  true  faith  and  in  accordance  with  the  teachings  of  the 
Apostles  and  the  holy  approved  Fathers,  we  have  judged  it  to 
be  orthodox  and  have  received  it  as  profitable  to  the  Holy 
Catholic  and  Apostolic  Church ' ;  described  themselves  as 
'  following  the  five  holy  Ecumenical  Councils  and  the  holy  and 
approved  Fathers,'  and  as  defining  the  faith  'according  as  the 
prophets  from  the  beginning  have  taught,  and  Jesus  Christ 
Himself  has  instructed  us,  and  the  symbol  of  the  holy  Fathers 
has  delivered  to  us ' ;  and  in  their  letter  to  Pope  Agatho  i.  said 
of  their  work :  *  On  us  shone  the  grace  of  the  all-holy  Spirit, 
bestowing  His  power  through  your  continual  prayer,  so  that 
we  might  root  out  every  tare  and  every  tree  that  bringeth  not 
forth  good  fruit,  and  commanding  that  they  should  be  con- 
sumed with  fire.  And,  agreeing  in  heart  and  tongue  and  hand, 
we  have  put  forth,  by  the  assistance  of  the  life-giving  Spirit,  a 
definition  most  free  from  error  and  most  certain,  not  removing 
the  ancient  landmarks,  as  it  is  said,  which  God  forbid,  but 
abiding  by  the  testimonies  of  the  holy  and  approved  Fathers' 
('  Acts  of  Constantinople,'  680-681,  Acts  xiii.,  xviii.,  in  Hardouin, 
iii.  1333,  1400,  1440). 

At  Nicsea  (787)  the  bishops  denned  their  work  : 

*  Thus  the  teaching  of  our  holy  Fathers  is  strengthened, 
that  is,  the  tradition  of  the  Catholic  Church,  which  has  received 
the  Gospel  from  one  end  to  the  other.  Thus  we  follow  Paul, 
who  spoke  in  Christ,  and  all  the  company  of  the  divine  Apostles 
and  the  holy  Fathers,  holding  fast  the  traditions  which  we  have 
received' ;  and  wrote  to  the  Empress  Irene  and  to  the  Emperor 
Constantius  vi. :  '  Following  the  traditions  of  the  Apostles  and 
the  Fathers,  we  are  bold  to  speak,  being  of  one  mind  in  the 
concord  given  by  the  all-holy  Spirit ;  and  being  all  brought 
together  in  one,  having  the  tradition  of  the  Catholic  Church  in 
harmony  with  us,  we  are  in  accord  with  the  agreeing  voices  set 
forth  by  the  six  Ecumenical  Councils'  ('Acts  of  Nicsea, '  Act 
vii.,  in  Hardouin,  iv.  456,  473). 

For  their  great  doctrinal  decisions  the  Ecumenical 
Councils  thus  possess  the  authority  of  the  universal 
Church,  and  base  their  work  on  that  tradition  of 
the  faith  which  goes  back  to  and  rests  on  the 
authority  of  our  Lord  Himself.     A  more  difficult 


question  arises  as  to  the  degree  of  their  authority 
in  certain  other  matters.  Some  disciplinary  enact- 
ments obviously  dealt  with  local  and  temporary 
circumstances,  and  therefore  have  only  local  and 
temporary  force,  as,  e.g.,  regulations  about  letters 
of  commendation  made  at  Chalcedon  (451)  in 
canon  11  ;  but  in  other  matters  of  discipline  it  is 
less  easy  to  decide  how  far  a  principle  is  involved 
which  may  tend  towards  some  degree  of  permanent 
authority. 

An  instance  may  show  the  complexity  of  the  problem  thus 
raised.  The  First  Ecumenical  Council,  acting  in  accordance 
with  the  condemnation  of  '  usury '  in  canon  20  of  the  Council 
of  Elvira  (305),  the  excommunication  of  'ministers  who  lend 
money  for  interest'  in  canon  12  of  the  Council  of  Aries  (314), 
and  the  regulation  in  the  forty-fourth  Apostolical  Canon,  that 
'  a  bishop,  priest,  or  deacon,  who  seeks  interest  from  those  who 
owe  him  money  must  either  cease  from  the  practice  or  be 
deposed,'  enacted  that :  '  Since  many  who  are  in  the  list  of  the 
clergy,  moved  by  covetousness  and  the  spirit  of  gain,  have 
forgotten  the  divine  word  which  says,  "  He  hath  not  given  his 
money  upon  interest,"  and  lend  and  require  one  per  cent  per 
month,  the  holy  and  great  Council  declares  that,  if  any  one 
after  this  decree  be  found  to  be  receiving  interest  ...  he  shall 
be  deposed  from  the  clerical  office  and  his  name  shall  be  struck 
off  the  list'  (canon  17);  and  this  canon  passed  into  the  ordinary 
law  of  both  East  and  West,  and  became  part  of  the  Corpus 
iuris  canonici  (Decretum,  i.  xlvii.  2,  n.  xiv.  4  (8)).  This  canon 
differs  markedly,  on  the  one  hand,  from  doctrinal  decisions 
concerning  central  truth  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  from  regu- 
lations of  merely  local  and  temporary  import. 

io.  The  work  of  the  Seven  Ecumenical  Coun- 
cils.— It  has  already  been  indicated  that  the 
Ecumenical  Councils  dealt  with  matters  of  very 
varying  character  and  importance,  some  doctrinal, 
others  disciplinary. 

(1)  Their  great  work  was  in  regard  to  the 
theology  of  the  Incarnation. — {a)  By  the  accept- 
ance of  the  Nicene  Creed,  and  in  particular  of  the 
phrase  in  it  ■  of  the  same  essence  as  the  Father ' 
{buootio-Los  t<3  Uarpl),  the  FIRST  COUNCIL  OF  NlGfflA 
(325)  affirmed  the  real  Deity  of  Christ  (see  Con- 
fessions, in  vol.  iii.  p.  836,  and  Creeds  [Ecu- 
menical]). (6)  The  First  Council  of  Constanti- 
nople (381)  ratified  the  work  of  the  Council  of 
Nicsea  (325)  in  regard  to  the  Deity  of  Christ ;  and 
in  particular,  by  its  condemnation  of  Apollinar- 
ism — the  heresy  which  maintained  that  our  Lord 
did  not  possess  a  higher  human  soul  or  spirit — 
protected  the  completeness  of  Christ's  manhood ; 
see  canon  1 : 

'  The  confession  of  faith  of  the  three  hundred  and  eighteen 
Fathers  who  were  assembled  at  Nicsea  in  Bithynia  shall  not  be 
abolished,  but  shall  remain  ;  and  every  heresy  shall  be  anathe- 
matized, especially  that  of  the  Eunomians  or  Anomaeans,  the 
Arians  or  Eudoxians,  the  semi-Arians  or  Pneumatomachians, 
the  Sabellians,  Marcellians,  Photinians,  and  Apollinarians.' 

It  has  been  thought  by  some  that  this  Council 
affirmed  the  longer  form  of  the  Nicene  Creed, 
sometimes  called  the  Constantinopolitan  Creed 
(see  Confessions,  and  Creeds,  ut  supra),  {c) 
The  First  Council  of  Ephesus  (431),  by  its 
approval  of  the  letters  of  St.  Cyril  of  Alexandria 
and  its  condemnation  of  Nestorius,  affirmed  the 
one  Person  of  Christ,  so  that  it  is  accurate  to  call 
the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary  '  the  Mother  of  God ' 
(6€ot6kos),  and  to  say  that  '  God  was  born  and  died.' 
id)  The  Council  of  Chalcedon  (451)  ratified  the 
work  of  the  three  earlier  Councils  by  its  affirmation 
of  the  Deity,  complete  manhood,  and  one  Person 
of  Christ,  and  by  its  acceptance  of  the  original 
Nicene  Creed  and  the  Constantinopolitan  Creed 
(see  Confessions,  and  Creeds)  ■  and  declared  also 
the  distinctness  and  permanent  reality  of  Christ's 
two  natures  of  Deity  and  manhood  by  accepting 
the  Tome  of  St.  Leo  and  by  acknowledging 
*two  natures,  without  confusion,  without  change,  without 
rending,  without  separation,  while  the  distinction  of  the 
natures  is  in  no  way  destroyed  because  of  the  union,  but  rather 
the  peculiarity  of  each  nature  is  preserved  and  concurs  into 
one  Person  and  one  Hypostasis'  (Act  v.,  in  Hardouin,  ii. 
453-456). 

(e)  The  Second  Council  of  Constantinople 
(553),  by  its  condemnation  of  the  '  Three  Chapters5 
—that  is  (1)  the  person  and  writings  of  Theodore 


192 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


of  Mopsuestia,  (2)  the  writings  of  Theodoret  in 
defence  of  Nestorius  and  against  St.  Cyril  of 
Alexandria  and  the  Council  of  Ephesus  (431),  and 
(3)  the  letter  of  Ibas  to  Maris — rejected  anew  the 
Nestorian  heresy  and  affirmed  the  doctrine  of  the 
one  Person  of  Christ.  The  words  of  the  sentence 
of  the  Council  are  : 

'  We  receive  the  four  holy  Councils,  that  is,  of  Nicasa,  of 
Constantinople,  the  First  of  Ephesus,  and  of  Chalcedon ;  and 
we  have  affirmed  and  do  affirm  those  truths  which  they  defined 
in  defence  of  the  one  and  the  same  faith.  We  declare  those 
who  do  not  receive  these  Councils  to  be  apart  from  the  Catholic 
Church.  We  condemn  and  anathematize,  together  with  all 
other  heretics  who  have  been  condemned  and  anathematized 
by  the  aforesaid  four  holy  Councils  and  by  the  Holy  Catholic 
and  Apostolic  Church,  Theodore  who  was  Bishop  of  Mopsuestia 
and  his  wicked  writings,  and  the  wicked  writings  of  Theodoret 
against  the  right  faith  and  against  the  twelve  chapters  of  the 
holy  Cyril  and  against  the  First  Council  of  Ephesus,  and  his 
writings  in  defence  of  Theodore  and  Nestorius.  Moreover,  we 
anathematize  also  the  wicked  letter  which  Ibas  is  said  to  have 
written  to  Maris  the  Persian,  which  denies  that  God  the  Word 
was  incarnate  of  the  holy  Mother  of  God  and  ever  Virgin  Mary, 
and  so  was  made  man '  ('  Acts  of  Constantinople,'  553,  Coll.  viii., 
in  Hardouin,  iii.  193,  194  ;  cf.  Evagrius,  HE  iv.  38). 

{/)  The  Third  Council  of  Constantinople 
(6S0-681)  condemned  the  Monothelite  heresy,  ac- 
cording to  which  there  is  only  one  will  in  Christ, 
and  affirmed  the  reality  of  His  human  will  as  well 
as  of  His  Divine  will.  After  declaring  their  ad- 
herence to  the  Councils  of  Nicsea  (325),  Constanti- 
nople (381),  Ephesus  (431),  Chalcedon  (451),  and 
Constantinople  (553),  and  after  reciting  the  original 
Nicene  Creed  and  the  enlarged  Nicene  or  Constan- 
tinopolitan  Creed  (see  CONFESSIONS,  and  CREEDS, 
ut  supra),  the  bishops  said  : 

'This  holy  and  orthodox  creed  of  the  Divine  grace  was  in 
itself  enough  for  the  complete  knowledge  and  confirmation  of 
the  orthodox  faith ;  but  since  the  author  of  evil  has  never 
ceased  to  find  a  serpent  to  help  him,  and  thereby  to  diffuse  his 
deadly  poison  among  the  human  race,  and  so  to  find  fit 
instruments  to  accomplish  his  will — we  mean  Theodoret,  who 
was  Bishop  of  Pharan ;  Sergius,  Pyrrhus,  Paul,  Peter,  who 
were  bishops  of  this  royal  city  ;  also  Honorius,  who  was  Pope 
of  old  Rome  ;  and  Cyrus,  who  held  the  bishopric  of  Alexandria ; 
also  Macarius,  who  was  recently  in  charge  of  Antioch,  and  his 
disciple,  Stephen— he  did  not  fail  to  bring  through  them 
scandalous  errors  on  the  whole  Church  by  disseminating  in  new 
fashion  among  the  orthodox  people  the  heresy  of  the  one  will 
and  one  operation  in  the  two  natures  of  the  one  Christ  our 
true  God,  one  Person  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  .  .  .  the  heresy 
which  serves  to  take  away  the  fullness  of  the  Incarnation  of 
the  one  Lord  Jesus  Christ  our  God  by  means  of  a  crafty  notion, 
and  which  impiously  brings  in  the  idea  of  His  rationally 
quickened  flesh  as  being  without  will  and  operation.  ...  In 
like  manner,  following  the  teaching  of  the  holy  Fathers,  we 
proclaim  two  natural  wills  (de\7)<reis  tJtoc  BeK^fxaTa)  in  Him,  and 
two  natural  operations,  without  division,  without  change,  %vith- 
out  severance,  without  confusion,  and  two  natural  wills  not 
opposed  to  one  another — God  forbid — as  the  wicked  heretics 
said,  but  his  human  will  following,  and  not  resisting  or  op- 
posing, but  rather  subject  to  His  divine  and  almighty  will' 
('Acts  of  Constantinople,'  680-681,  Act  xviii.,  in  Hardouin,  iii. 
1395-1400). 

(g)  The  Second  Council  of  Nicea  (787)  dealt 
with  the  contentions  of  the  Iconoclasts  that  Christ 
might  not  be  represented  in  a  material  form 
because  of  the  iniinity  of  the  Godhead,  or,  as  the 
more  moderate  members  of  the  party  taught,  that 
the  representations  of  Him  might  not  be  venerated. 
In  view  of  these  contentions,  the  Council  affirmed 
the  teaching  of  the  six  earlier  Ecumenical  Councils, 
and  proceeded  to  declare  that  the  material  re- 
presentations of  our  Lord  were  the  visible  signs 
of  the  reality  of  the  Incarnation,  and  that  the 
veneration  of  these  and  of  the  images  of  the 
saints— which  was  to  be  distinguished  from  the 
adoration  due  to  God  alone— lifted  the  thoughts  of 
the  worshippers  to  the  realities  which  these  visible 
things  represented : 

'We,  holding  fast  in  everything  the  decrees  and  acts  of  our 
divinely  guided  Fathers,  proclaim  them  with  one  mouth  and 
one  heart,  adding  nothing  to,  taking  nothing  away  from,  the 
things  which  they  delivered  to  us,  but  in  these  we  are  strong, 
in  these  we  are  established  ;  we  so  confess,  we  so  teach,  as  the 
six  holy  Ecumenical  Councils  have  defined  and  determined. 
And  we  believe  in  one  God,  the  Father  Almighty,  Maker  of  all 
things  visible  and  invisible  ;  and  in  one  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  His 
only-begotten  Son  ar>d  Word,  through  whom  all  thingB  were 
made ;  and  in  the  "aoly  Ghost,  the  Lord  and  Life-Giver,  con- 


substantial  and  co-eternal  with  the  Father  and  His  co-eternal 
Son — the  Trinity  uncreated,  undivided,  incomprehensible,  un 
circumscribed,  which  wholly  and  alone  is  to  be  adored  and 
venerated  and  worshipped,  one  Godhead,  one  Lordship,  one 
Dominion,  one  Kingdom  and  Power,  which  without  division  is 
apportioned  to  the  Persons,  and  without  confusion  is  joined  to 
the  Essence.  And  we  confess  that  One  of  the  same  holy  and 
co-essential  Trinity,  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  true  God,  in  the 
last  days  for  our  salvation  became  flesh  and  was  made  Man,  and 
by  the  saving  dispensation  of  His  passion  and  resurrection  and 
ascension  into  heaven  did  save  our  race  and  set  us  free  from 
idolatry.  .  .  .  The  Lord  of  glory  Himself,  God  who  became 
Man,  saved  us  and  set  us  free  from  idolatry.  To  Him,  there- 
fore, be  glory  ;  to  Him  be  grace  :  to  Him  be  thanksgiving  ;  to 
Him  be  praise  ;  to  Him  be  majesty.  His  is  redemption  and  salva- 
tion. He  alone  is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost.  This  is  the 
work  of  no  other  men,  who  came  from  the  dust.  He  Himself, 
through  the  dispensation  of  His  incarnation,  has  fulfilled  for  us, 
on  whom  the  ends  of  the  world  are  come,  the  words  foretold  by 
the  prophets.  .  .  .  And  we  greet  the  words  of  the  Lord,  and  of 
the  apostles,  and  of  the  prophets,  by  which  we  have  been 
taught  to  honour  and  magnify,  first  her  who  is  actually  and 
really  the  Mother  of  God,  who  is  above  all  the  heavenly  powers, 
and  then  the  holy  powers  of  the  angels,  the  blessed  and  illus- 
trious apostles,  the  glorious  prophets,  the  victorious  martyrs 
who  fought  for  Christ,  the  holy  and  God-fearing  doctors,  and 
all  the  saints ;  and  to  seek  for  their  intercessions,  which  are 
able  to  make  us  at  home  with  God,  the  King  of  all,  if  we  keep 
His  commandments,  and  strive  to  live  virtuously.  We  greet, 
moreover,  the  figure  of  the  honourable  and  life-giving  cross, 
and  the  holy  relics  of  the  saints ;  and  we  receive  and  greet 
and  embrace  the  holy  and  venerable  images,  according  to  the 
primitive  tradition  of  the  Holy  Catholic  Church  of  God,  that  is, 
our  Holy  Fathers,  who  both  received  them  and  determined  that 
they  should  be  in  all  the  holy  churches  of  God,  and  in  every 
place  of  His  dominion.  These  honourable  images,  as  has  been 
said  before,  we  honour  and  greet  and  honourably  venerate, 
namely,  the  image  of  the  Incarnation  of  our  great  God  and 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ ;  and  of  our  unstained  Lady,  the  all-holy 
Mother  of  God,  of  whom  He  was  pleased  to  become  flesh,  that 
He  might  save  us  and  set  us  free  from  all  wicked  idolatry  ; 
and  of  the  holy  and  bodiless  angels,  who  appeared  in  the  form 
of  men  to  the  righteous ;  and  the  figures  and  images  of  the 
divine  and  far-famed  apostles,  the  God-speaking  prophets,  the 
triumphant  martyrs,  and  the  saints ;  so  that,  through  their 
representations,  we  may  be  led  to  the  recollection  and"  memory 
of  them  who  are  represented,  and  may  attain  to  some  share  in 
their  holiness.  ...  In  proportion  as  the  saints  are  beheld  by 
their  images,  those  who  behold  them  are  uplifted  in  memory 
and  affection  of  those  who  are  represented,  so  as  to  assign  to 
these  greeting  and  honourable  veneration,  not  the  real  adora- 
tion which,  according  to  our  faith,  is  due  to  the  nature  of  God 
only  ;  but  that  to  these,  as  to  the  figure  of  the  honourable  and 
life-giving  cross,  and  to  the  holy  Gospels,  and  to  the  other 
sacred  objects,  there  should  be  brought  incense  and  lights  to 
do  them  honour,  as  has  been  the  pious  custom  of  men  of  old* 
('Acts  of  Nicaea,'  787,  Acts  iv.,  vii.,  in  Hardouin,  iv.  264, 
265,  456). 

(2)  Of  the  work  done  by  the  Ecumenical  Councils 
in  addition  te-  the  protection  and  development  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation,  only  a  few  re- 
presentative instances  can  be  given.  The  decision 
in  regard  to  the  schism  caused  by  Meletius,  Bishop 
of  Lycopolis,  intruding  into  other  dioceses  and 
ordaining  in  them  ;  the  decision  about  the  dispute 
as  to  the  right  day  for  keeping  Easter  ;  the  regula- 
tion that  all  were  to  pray  standing  on  Sundays,  at 
Nicsea  (325)  j  the  assigning  of  the  first  place  after 
the  Bishop  of  Rome  to  the  Bishop  of  Constanti- 
nople, at  Constantinople  (381);  the  prohibition  of 
simony  and  the  regulations  about  deaconesses,  at 
Chalcedon  (451) — show  the  wide  scope  of  the  dis- 
ciplinary enactments  of  these  councils. 

II.  Other  important  Councils. — Illustrations  of 
Councils  other  than  the  Seven  Ecumenical  Coun- 
cils may  be  placed  in  three  groups. 

(1)  The  Councils  held  at  Constantinople  in  SG9 
and  879.  — That  in  869  was  regarded  in  the  West, 
and  is  still  regarded  by  the  Church  of  Rome,  as 
the  Eighth  Ecumenical  Council.  Its  chief  work 
was  the  condemnation  of  Photius,  one  of  the 
claimants  to  the  See  of  Constantinople,  who  in 
866  had  issued  an  encyclical  letter  in  which  he 
attacked  the  Westerns  for  (a)  keeping  Saturday  as 
a  fast ;  (6)  eating  milk  and  cheese  during  part  of 
Lent ;  (c)  not  allowing  married  men  to  be  priests  ; 
(d)  restricting  confirmation  to  bishops  ;  (e)  teach- 
ing the  double  procession  of  the  Holy  Ghost  {Ep. 
i.  13,  in  Migne,  PG  cii.  721-742) ;  and  who  in  867 
had  presided  at  a  Council  at  Constantinople  which 
had  anathematized  the  Pope  ('Acts  of  Constan- 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


193 


tinople,'  869,  in  Hardouin,  v.  749-1196).  The 
Council  held  in  879  is  regarded  in  the  East  as  the 
Eighth  Ecumenical  Council.  It  reversed  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  Council  of  869  and  acknowledged 
Photius.  Legates  of  the  Pope  were  present  at  it, 
and  assented  to  its  work ;  hut  it  was  eventually 
repudiated  by  the  Pope.  The  absence  of  Eastern 
acceptance  of  the  Council  of  869  and  of  Western 
acceptance  of  the  Council  of  879  makes  both  these 
Councils  to  be  without  that  universal  acceptance 
which  is  a  condition  of  ecumenicity. 

(2)  Between  the  Council  of  Nicsea  (325)  and  the 
Council  of  Constantinople  (3S1)  a  series  of  Councils 
concerning  the  Arian  controversy  were  held.  The 
most  important  of  them  were  those  at  Antioch  in 
341,  with  supplementary  assemblies  later  in  the 
same  year  and  in  344,  which  drew  up  five  Creeds 
which  in  themselves  were  orthodox,  but  which 
played  into  the  hands  of  the  semi-Arians  by  the 
use  of  ambiguous  expressions  about  the  Deity  of 
Christ ;  at  Sardica  in  343,  which  defended  St. 
Athanasius ;  and  the  simultaneous  Council  at 
Philippopolis,  which  condemned  him  and  accepted 
the  fourth  of  the  Antiochene  Creeds  ;  at  Sirmium 
in  351,  357,  and  358,  which  were  favourable  to  the 
semi-Arians,  and  the  third  of  which  drew  up  a 
Creed  of  the  same  character  as  the  Antiochene 
Creeds ;  at  Ariminum  in  359,  which  accepted  a 
semi- Arian  Creed ;  at  Seleucia  in  359,  which 
accepted  the  same  Creed  as  that  adopted  at 
Ariminum ;  and  at  Alexandria  in  362,  which,  on 
the  temporary  return  of  St.  Athanasius  to  his  See, 
dealt  with  the  various  practical  difficulties  which 
had  arisen  through  the  dominance  of  the  Arians 
during  the  reign  of  Constantius  II. 

(3)  Particular  Councils  of  special  importance. — 
(a)  The  Councils  of  Laodicea,  held  between  341  and 
381,  of  Carthage  in  397  and  419,  and  the  Quini- 
sext,  or  Trullan,  Council  of  Constantinople  (692) 
made  regulations  in  regard  to  the  hooks  which 
might  be  read  in  church. — (5)  A  series  of  Councils 
held  in  the  5th  cent,  in  Africa  and  Palestine  and 
Italy  were  concerned  with  the  Pelagian  heresy. 
With  these  must  be  placed  the  highly  important 
Second  Council  of  Orange  (529),  which  condemned 
Semi-Pelagianism,  and  definitely  asserted  the 
need  of  Divine  grace  both  to  lead  man  to  choose 

food  and  to  enable  him  to  give  effect  to  his  choice  ; 
ut  took  pains  to  avoid  exaggerations  in  the 
opposite  direction,  by  adding  to  the  canons  the 
following  statement : 

'  When  grace  has  been  received  through  baptism,  all  the 
baptized,  by  the  help  and  co-operation  of  Christ,  are  able  and 
ought  to  fulfil  those  things  which  pertain  to  the  salvation  of 
the  soul,  if  they  are  willing  to  labour,  faithfully.  That  any  are 
predestined  to  evil  by  the  power  of  God,  we  not  only  do  not 
believe,  but  also,  if  there  are  any  who  wish  to  believe  so  great 
an  evil,  we  say  anathema  to  them  with  all  abhorrence.  This 
also  we  healthfully  confess  and  believe,  that  in  every  good  work 
it  is  not  we  who  begin  and  afterwards  are  aided  by  the  mercy 
of  God,  but  God  Himself  in  the  first  instance  inspires  into  us, 
without  any  good  deserts  of  our  own  preceding,  belief  in  Him 
and  love  for  Him,  so  that  we  both  faithfully  seek  for  the  sacra- 
ment of  Baptism,  and  after  Baptism  are  able  with  Hi9  help  to 
fulfil  those  things  which  are  pleasing  to  him '  ('  Acts  of  Orange,' 
529,  in  Hardouin,  ii.  1101,  1102). 

These  decisions  at  Orange  were  accepted  as  ex- 
pressing the  general  mind  of  the  Church  (see 
Pelagianism,  Semi-Pelagianism). — (c)  A  Coun- 
cil was  held  at  Constantinople  in  543,  to  which 
the  Fifteen  Anathematisms  on  Origen,  which  are 
sometimes  ascribed  to  the  Fifth  Ecumenical  Coun- 
cil, probably  belong.  They  include  the  anathema, 
'  If  any  one  maintains  the  legendary  pre-existence 
of  souls  and  the  monstrous  idea  of  restitution  which 
follows  from  it,  let  him  be  anathema'  (see  Har- 
douin, iii.  284).— (d)  The  Third  Council  of  Toledo 
(589)  was  the  occasion  of  the  Spanish  Church  and 
nation  repudiating  their  traditional  Arianism,  and 
accepting  the  Catholic  faith  as  expressed  by  the 
orthodox  Councils.  It  is  of  importance,  in  regard 
vol.  iv. — 13 


to  the  history  of  the  Creeds  and  to  controversies 
between  the  East  and  the  West,  that  the  clause  in 
the  enlarged  form  of  the  Nicene  Creed  was  recited 
at  this  Council  as  '  ex  Patre  et  Filio  procedentem  ' 
(see  Hardouin,  iii.  472). — (e)  The  Quinisext,  or 
Trullan,  Council  of  Constantinople  (692)  re- 
affirmed the  doctrinal  declarations  of  the  six 
Ecumenical  Councils  which  had  by  that  time 
been  held,  and  added  to  them  a  series  of  dis- 
ciplinary canons  which  became  a  recognized  part 
of  the  Eastern  canon  law. — (/)  The  Council  of 
Frankfort  (794),  expressing  the  general  mind  of 
the  Church,  condemned  the  heresy  of  Adoptianism, 
declaring  that  it  '  ought  to  be  utterly  rooted  out  of 
the  Church '  (canon  1  ;  see  Hardouin,  iv.  904,  and 
cf.  art.  Adoptianism).  Under  a  misapprehension, 
it  rejected  the  decisions  of  the  Second  Council 
of  Nicaea  about  images  (see  above,  p.  190b  n.). 

Literature.  —  J.  Hardouin,  Ctmciliorum  Collectio  Regia 
Maxima,  Paris,  1716 ;  N.  Coleti,  Sacrosancta  Concilia  ad 
Regiam  Editionem  Exacta,  Venice,  1728-1734 ;  J.  D.  Mansi, 
Ad  Concilia  Veneto-Labbeana  Supplementum,  Lucca,  1748-1752, 
also  Sacrorum  Conciliorum  Nova  et  Amplissima  Collectio, 
Venice,  1759ff.  (new  ed.  Paris,  1900 ff.);  C.  J.  Helele,Concilien- 
gesch.,  Freiburg  i.  Br.  1859  ft.,  and  other  edd.;  H.  Leclercq, 
Hist,  des  concites  d'apres  les  documents  orig.  par  C.  J.  Hefele, 
Paris,  1907  ff.  [a  greatly  improved  form  of  Hefele's  book, 
indispensable  even  for  those  who  possess  the  last  Germ,  ed.] ; 
C.  H.  Turner,  Eccles.  Occident.  Monumenta  Iuris  Anti- 
guissima,  Oxford,  1899  ff.  ;  P.  Coustant,  Epistolcs  Roma7iorum 
Po.itijicum,  Paris,  1721 ;  E.  B.  Pusey,  The  Councils  of  the 
Church  (51-S81),  Oxford,  1857  ;  A.  W.  Haddan,  art.  '  Council,' 
in  Smith-Cheetham,  DCA  i.  473-485,  London,  1875 ;  art.  '  The 
Seventh  Oecumenical  Council,'  in  CQR,  London,  July  1896 ; 
C.  G.  de  la  Luzerne,  Dissertations  sur  les  droits.  .  .  respecti/s 
des  ivtques  et  des  pr&tres  dans  I'Eglise,  Paris,  1844  [posthumous  ; 
de  la  Luzerne  died  in  1821] ;  J.  Forget,  art.  Oonciles,'  in 
Vacant-Mangenot,  Diet,  de  Thiol.  Cathol.  iii.  636-676,  Paris, 
1908 ;  J.  Wilhelm,  art.  *  Councils,'  in  Cathol.  Encycl.  iv. 
423-435,  London,  1908;  A.  Hauck,  art.  'Synoden,'  in  PRE* 
xix.  263-277,  Leipzig,  1907  ['Councils  and  Synods,'  in  Schaff- 
Herzog,  Encycl.  of  Religious  Knowledge,  iii.  279-284,  New  York, 
1909]:  R.  B.  Rackham,  'The  Position  of  the  Laity  in  the 
Early  Church,'  in  Essays  in  Aid  of  the  Reform  of  the  Church, 
ed.  C.  Gore,  London,  1898 ;  Canterbury  Convocation  Com- 
mittee, Report  on  the  Position  of  the  Laity,  London,  1902. 

Darwell  Stone. 
COUNCILS  (Christian:  Mediasval,  870-1400). 
— The  Councils  of  this  protracted  period  were  not 
important  from  a  doctrinal  standpoint,  as  compared 
with  the  Ecumenical  Councils  from  325  to  869,  or  as 
compared  with  the  later  Councils  of  Trent  and  the 
Vatican.  The  dogma  of  Transubstantiation  is  the 
only  dogma  which  was  defined  (at  the  Fourth 
Lateran,  1215)  that  had  not  been  defined  by  one 
of  the  first  eight  Ecumenical  Councils.  These 
Synods  are,  however,  of  unusual  value  for  the 
light  they  throw  upon  the  clerical  manners  of  the 
period,  and  the  advocacy  they  gave  to  some  of 
the  greater  social  and  ecclesiastical  movements  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  They  legislated  upon  the  relation 
of  the  Church  to  the  Empire,  upon  the  prerogatives 
and  election  of  the  Popes,  upon  Church  reforms, 
especially  against  simony  and  priestly  concubinage, 
upon  heresy  and  its  punishment,  upon  the  details 
of  the  conduct  of  worship,  priestly  dress  and 
manners,  upon  the  crusades,  upon  the  evils  of  feud 
(through  the  truce  of  God),  and  upon  the  tourna- 
ments. As  regards  locality,  Rome  was  all  through 
the  period  the  chief  centre  of  Church  assemblies. 
Down  to  1200,  few  Synods,  of  which  any  account  is 
preserved,  were  held  outside  Germany,  France, 
Italy,  and  England.  The  important  Synod  of 
Szoboles  (1092)  in  Hungarian  territory  was  one  of 
the  exceptions.  After  1150  the  Spanish  Synods 
came  into  prominence  on  account  of  the  regula- 
tions touching  heresy  and  its  extirpation.  A  not- 
able feature  is  that  not  only  the  Synods  in  Rome, 
but  many  outside  of  it,  were  presided  over  by 
Popes  in  person  or  through  their  legates.  Such 
were  the  Synods  in  France,  Germany,  and  Italy, 
attended  by  Leo  IX.,  Urban  II.,  Innocent  II.,  Alex- 
ander III.,  Lucius  III.  The  presence  of  the  supreme 
head   of  Christendom   gave   to  the   acts   of  such 


194 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


Synods  a  semi-Ecumenical  importance.  The  period 
witnessed  seven  Ecumenical  Councils,  the  first  in 
the  West,  and  all  called  and  presided  over  by 
Popes.  The  decrees  of  some  of  them  are  of  less 
importance  than  the  legislation  of  some  of  the 
local  Synods,  such  as  the  Reform  Synods  held 
in  Rome  in  1049,  1059,  etc.,  the  Synod  of  Cler- 
mont (1095),  which  set  the  first  crusade  in  motion, 
the  Synod  of  Verona  (1184),  which  took  up  heresy, 
and  the  Synod  of  Tours  (1229),  which,  in  addition 
to  other  important  regulations  aimed  against 
heretics,  forbade  laymen  to  possess  copies  of  the 
Scriptures.  We  shall  treat  the  subject  under  five 
heads. 

I.  870-900. — The  Synods  of  this  dark  age,  so  far 
as  they  are  known  to  us,  were  only  of  temporary 
and  local  importance.  The  subjects  discussed 
were  crimes  against  the  clergy  and  their  punish- 
ment, the  payment  of  tithes,  the  rights  of  patrons 
over  church  livings,  marriage  and  divorce.  No 
new  measures  of  Church  reform  or  ecclesiastical 
polity  were  taken  up.  No  new  statements  of 
doctrine  were  made.  No  Synod  of  importance 
was  held  at  Rome.  The  Synod  of  Tribur,  near 
Mainz  (895),  was  one  of  the  best  of  them  (see 
Hefele,  iv.  552  6°.).  It  was  attended  by  the  three 
great  German  archbishops,  Hermann  of  Cologne, 
Haito  of  Mainz,  and  Rothod  of  Treves,  by  19 
bishops,  and  many  abbots.  Twelve  of  its  58  canons 
concern  marriage,  which  is  declared  valid  only 
when  the  parties  are  equals.  A  man  having  a 
concubine  was  expressly  permitted,  in  addition,  to 
take  a  wife.  A  man  committing  adultery  with 
another  man's  wife  was  forbidden  to  marry  her, 
even  if  the  husband  died.  The  old  Roman  law 
evidently  still  had  its  influence,  but  the  movement 
of  the  Church  was  in  the  right  direction,  and  at 
the  Roman  Synod  (1059)  under  Nicolas  II.  a  lay- 
man was  forbidden,  under  pain  of  excommunication, 
to  have  a  wife  and  a  concubine  at  the  same  time. 

II.  900-1050. — The  10th  cent,  witnessed  even 
fewer  Synods  than  the  9th  (Hefele,  iv.  571),  and 
this,  according  to  the  canonist  Hergenrbther,  was 
a  sign  of  the  decay  of  Catholic  discipline  (Kathol. 
Kirchenrecht,  342).  The  Ottos  and  Henry  III. 
had  a  taste  for  calling  Synods,  regarding  them- 
selves as  the  successors  of  Constantine,  Theodosius, 
Marcian,  and  other  Roman  Emperors.  After  the 
year  1000  there  is  a  very  noticeable  increase  in 
the  number  of  Synods.  Here,  again,  no  theological 
dogma  is  stated  which  had  not  already  been 
defined.  The  prerogative  of  the  Papal  Chair, 
which  was  to  form  such  a  conspicuous  subject  of 
Conciliar  discussion  after  1050,  was  not  touched 
upon,  except  incidentally  at  the  Synod  of  St. 
Bale,  near  Rheims  (991),  where  Gerbert,  after- 
wards Sylvester  II.,  took  a  prominent  part,  and 
Archbishop  Arnulf  was  deposed.  Sylvester,  on  be- 
coming Pope,  restored  him  (Hefele,  iv.  637  ff.,  654; 
Loofs,  Dogmengesch.*,  Halle,  1906,  p.  249).  A 
Synod  of  Rome  under  Sylvester  (998),  in  the  spirit 
of  Nicolas  I.,  imposed  a  penance  of  eight  years  upon 
Robert,  king  of  France,  for  his  marriage  with  his 
blood-relation,  Bertha ;  and  the  Archbishop  of 
Tours  and  other  prelates,  who  had  assented  to 
the  incestuous  relationship,  were  suspended.  Of 
the  Synods  which  took  up  the  cases  of  individual 
Popes,  the  Synod  of  Rome  (963)  deposed  John  XII. 
and  elevted  Leo  vm.  ;  the  Roman  Synod  of  964 
reinstated  John  XII.  ;  and  another  Roman  Synod 
(964)  restored  Leo  VIII.  Otto  the  Great  called  the 
last  of  these  Synods.  The  most  famous  of  them, 
the  Synod  of  Sutri,  has  a  permanent  interest,  as 
bearing  upon  the  relation  between  a  Council  and 
the  Papacy.  It  was  controlled  by  Henry  m.,  and 
disposed  of  three  Popes  and  elected  a  fourth. 
Benedict  IX.  resigned,  Sylvester  III.  was  im- 
prisoned,  and   Greff<"-w  VI.  deposed   himself,   his 


resignation  being  accepted  by  the  assembled 
Fathers.  Descending  from  the  throne,  he  implored 
forgiveness  for  having  usurped  the  supreme  seat 
of  Christendom  by  simoniacal  purchase.  Cle- 
ment II.  was  then  seated. 

The  Synodical  legislation  of  1000-1050  shows  a 
great  revival  of  interest  in  ecclesiastical  discipline 
and  order,  and  is  characterized  by  three  notable 
features — a  strong  movement  towards  the  moral 
reform  of  the  clergy,  the  check  put  upon  feuds  and 
bloodshed,  and  the  repression  of  heresy.  The 
Synods  of  Pavia  (1018),  presided  over  by  Bene- 
dict VIII.,  of  Goslar  (1019),  Seligenstadt  (1022), 
and  Bourges  (1031),  busied  themselves  with  ques- 
tions of  reform,  especially  with  the  incontinence 
of  the  clergy.  The  deposition  of  all  clerics  who 
had  wives  or  concubines  was  decreed,  from  sub- 
deacon  to  bishop.  The  Synod  of  Seligenstadt  re- 
cognized the  crying  evil  of  excessive  masses,  when 
it  limited  a  priest  to  three  a  day.  The  legislation 
against  the  deep-rooted  evil  of  uninterrupted  feud 
and  blood-revenge  begins  with  the  Synod  of 
Poitiers  (1000).  The  Synod  of  Limoges  (1031) 
threatened  the  interdict  as  punishment  for  such 
feud.  The  legislation  which  started  in  France 
was  perfected  there.  The  agreement  of  peace 
(pax  Dei),  dating  from  1034,  which  required  a 
cessation  of  warfare  all  the  days  of  the  week,  was 
found  impracticable,  and  (about  1040)  Synods  in 
Southern  France  established  the  treuga  Dei,  the 
peace  or  truce  of  God,  whereby  cessation  from 
bloodshed  was  ordered  from  Wednesday  evening  to 
Monday  at  sunrise,  thus  including  the  sacred  days 
of  the  Ascension,  Passion,  Burial,  and  Resurrec- 
tion. Later  Synods,  as  the  Synod  of  Narbonne 
(1054)  and  the  great  Synod  of  Clermont  (1095), 
under  the  presidency  of  Urban  II.,  extended  the 
limits  of  the  truce  to  the  Lenten  period  and  other 
holy  seasons  of  the  Church  year.  This  humane 
legislation  was  confirmed  by  the  first  three  Ecum- 
enical Councils  of  the  West  (1123,  1139,  1179); 
and,  in  putting  a  check  upon  the  barbarism  of 
mediaeval  society,  it  stood  probably  for  a  more 
remarkable  measure  than  the  principle  of  arbitra- 
tion in  international  disputes  which  is  now  gaining 
recognition.  The  Synodal  action  on  heresy  opens 
with  the  Synod  of  Orleans  (1022).  There  had  been 
no  oall  for  repressive  measures  for  hundreds  of 
years,  as  heresy  was  practically  unknown  in 
Western  Europe.  It  appeared  again  in  Southern 
France  and  Northern  Italy ;  and  at  Orleans,  in  the 
presence  of  Robert,  king  of  France,  and  his  consort, 
13  persons  were  burned  for  erroneous  teachings 
and  practices.  This  legislation  was  taken  up  by 
the  Synod  of  Arras,  Southern  France  (1025),  which 
condemned  heretics  who  had  emigrated  from  Italy 
and  rejected  baptism  and  the  Lord's  Supper, 
despised  marriage,  and  '  annulled '  the  Church. 
Again,  at  the  Synod  of  Rheims  (1049),  heretics 
were  condemned.  This  legislation  was  renewed 
at  a  later  time  and  elaborated  by  many  Synods, 
culminating  in  the  measure  of  the  Inquisition  laid 
down  by  Innocent  III.  at  the  Fourth  Lateran,  the 
rules  of  the  Synod  of  Tours,  and  the  decrees  of 
Innocent's  successors. 

III.  1050-1122.— In  this,  the  Hildebrandian 
period,  Synods  are  numerous.  They  are  a  sign 
of  a  new  age  in  Church  history,  and  an  indication 
of  the  administration  of  vigorous  personalities. 
Their  decisions  had  much  influence  on  the  per- 
manent policy  and  practice  of  the  Latin  Church. 
Hildebrand  (Gregory  VII.),  the  most  imposing 
figure  of  the  period,  lent  the  great  weight  of  his 
presence  at  these  Synods  and  his  confirmation 
to  their  enactments.  Other  powerful  Popes  who 
did  the  same  were  Leo  IX.,  Nicolas  II.,  and 
Urban  II.  The  chief  subjects  legislated  upon 
were  the  Papal  prerogative  as  involved   in   the 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


195 


ceremony  of  investiture,  clerical  concubinage,  eccle- 
siastical simony,  the  mode  of  electing  the  Pope, 
and  the  crusades.  The  so-called  Reform  Synods, 
assembling  in  Rome,  which  took  up  the  first 
three  questions,  form  an  epoch  in  the  history  of 
the  Western  Church,  and  bear  the  same  relation 
to  the  earlier  periods  of  the  Middle  Ages  that  the 
reformatory  Councils  of  Pisa,  Constance,  and 
Basel  bear  to  their  last  period.  The  Lord's  Supper 
was  the  only  question  of  a  doctrinal  nature  to 
be  discussed,  being  taken  up  in  connexion  with  the 
dynamic  theory  advocated  by  Berengar  of  Tours 
(d.  1088).  The  doctrine  of  the  transmutation  of 
the  elements  was  assumed,  the  word  '  transubstan- 
tiation '  not  being  used.  Through  the  influence 
of  Lanfranc,  Berengar's  views  were  condemned  in 
Rome  (1050).  He  failed  to  appear  at  the  Synod  of 
Vercelli  (1050),  over  which  Leo  IX.  presided.  His 
case  was  subsequently  taken  up  at  several  Synods, 
notably  at  the  Roman  Synods  (1059  and  1079). 
At  both  of  these  Synods  he  retracted  his  view, 
but  afterwards  recalled  his  denials,  declaring  that 
they  had  been  made  through  fear.  The  113 
bishops  present  at  the  Synod  of  1059  he  called 
'wild  beasts.'  The  protection  of  Gregory  VII. 
saved  him.  The  famous  law  regulating  Papal 
election  and  confining  it  to  the  cardinals  was 
passed  at  the  Roman  Synod  of  1059,  under  the 
presidency  of  Nicolas  II.  The  law  was  elaborated 
by  Alexander  III.  at  the  Ecumenical  Council  of 
1179,  and  again  at  the  second  Ecumenical  Council 
at  Lyons  (1274). 

The  Reform  Synods  began  at  the  opening  of  the 
period  in  1049.  At  the  Roman  Synod  of  1047, 
Clement  II.  had  already  declared  against  simony, 
and  punished  some  bishops  who  practised  it.  The 
Roman  Synod  of  1049,  under  Leo  IX.,  declared  war 
in  earnest  against  the  two  evils  of  simony  and 
clerical  marriage,  renewed  the  old  laws  on  the 
subject,  and  forbade  to  clerics,  from  the  sub-deacon 
up  to  the  higher  orders,  the  exercise  of  religious 
functions  so  long  as  they  were  married  or  kept 
concubines.  This  legislation  was  repeated  the 
same  year  by  Synods  at  Rheims  and  Mainz,  both 
presided  over  by  Leo.  Vigorous  laws  were  also 
passed  by  the  Roman  Synods  of  1059  and  1061, 
under  Nicolas  II. ,  and  by  the  Synod  of  Melfi,  near 
Monte  Cassino  (1059),  presided  over  by  the  same 
Pontiff.  The  energy  with  which  the  canon  of 
celibacy  was  pushed  is  shown  by  Nicolas'  despatch 
of  legates  to  propagate  the  Papal  views,  and  the 
action  of  the  Synods  of  Vienne  and  Tours  (1060) 
along  the  same  line.  Gregory  VII.  won  for  himself 
a  foremost  place  among  Papal  reformers  by  the 
boldness  with  which  he  advocated  moral  reforms, 
and  the  suffering  he  was  ready  to  undergo  in  their 
interest.  Simony,  clerical  concubinage,  and  lay 
investiture  were  the  three  evils  against  which  he 
waged  vigorous  war.  At  the  Lenten  Synod  in 
Rome  (1074),  the  first  of  his  pontificate,  he  ordered 
all  holding  ecclesiastical  offices  by  purchase  to 
relinquish  them,  and  all  guilty  of  the  crimen 
fornicationis,  that  is,  having  a  wife  or  a  concubine, 
to  desist  from  saying  mass.  To  the  resistance 
offered  by  localities  and  bishops  to  the  latter  decree 
was  added  the  unfavourable  action  of  the  local 
Synods  of  Paris  and  Erfurt  (1074).  But  such 
Synodal  action  was  as  a  passing  cloud.  Other 
Synods  came  to  Gregory's  aid,  and  those  held 
at  Rome  year  by  year  renewed  the  war  ;  and  the 
legislation  condemning  the  marriage  of  the  clergy 
was  repeated  again  and  again,  even  in  far-off 
England,  as  at  the  Synods  of  Winchester  under 
Lanfranc  (1076),  at  London  under  Anselm  (1102, 
1108),  andatWestminster(1138),etc.  TheseSynods 
extended  the  war  to  the  sons  of  priests,  who  were 
excluded  from  succeeding  to  the  benefices  held  by 
their  fathers.     The  Roman  Synod  of  1083,  the  last 


under  Gregory,  placed  in  one  and  the  same 
category  the  sons  of  priests,  the  sons  of  adul- 
terers, and  all  other  bastards,  and  pronounced 
them  ineligible  for  ordination.  The  difficulty  met 
with  in  putting  a  stop  to  the  marriage  of  clerics  is 
shown  by  the  action  of  the  Hungarian  Synod  of 
Szoboles  (1092),  which,  for  the  sake  of  peace, 
granted  priests  already  married  the  indulgence  to 
keep  their  wives  (see  Hef  ele,  v.  204  ff. ). 

A  positive  prohibition  of  lay  investiture  was  laid 
down  by  Gregory  in  the  Lenten  Synod  at  Rome 
(1075).  Henceforward  the  custom  was  illegal  where- 
by the  Emperor  and  princes  had  inducted  bishops 
and  abbots  into  their  office  by  the  gift  of  ring  anil 
staff.  This  right  Gregory  now  reserved  for  the 
spiritual  authorities,  to  whom  it  properly  belonged. 
The  principle  was  asserted  at  one  Council  after 
another,  and  thus  the  moral  weight  of  Coneiliar 
action  was  added  to  the  heroic  boldness  of  Gregory 
in  his  personal  struggle  with  Henry  IV.,  until  the 
matter  was  finally  settled  by  the  Concordat  of 
Worms  (1122). 

Synods  undertook  an  easy  task  when  they 
began  to  urge  Western  Christendom  to  endeavour 
to  rescue  Jerusalem  and  the  other  sacred  sites 
from  the  grasp  of  the  infidel.  The  spirit  of 
chivalry,  as  well  as  the  impulse  of  piety,  was 
touched  when  the  appeal  was  made  to  assert  by 
arms  the  right  of  the  Church  to  the  localities 
where  the  Redeemer  was  born,  had  died,  and  lay 
in  the  grave  for  three  days.  The  subject  was 
first  brought  to  the  attention  of  a  Council  at 
the  Synod  of  Piacenza  (1095),  when  an  embassy 
appeared  from  the  Emperor  Alexius  calling  for 
aid  against  the  encroachments  of  the  Turk  upon 
the  Eastern  Empire.  At  the  Council  of  Clermont 
(1095),  presided  over  by  Urban  II.,  the  first  crusade 
was  determined  upon.  Urban's  address,  picturing 
the  distress  of  Jerusalem,  fired  the  heart  of  the 
large  assembly  with  such  enthusiasm,  that  the  cry 
arose,  'God  wills  it,  God  wills  it,'  and  multitudes 
took  the  cross.  More  effective  sermon  was  never 
preached,  and  at  once  throughout  Central  Europe 
was  heard  the  noise  of  preparation  for  the  main 
army  which  was  to  start  under  Godfrey,  and  the 
preliminary  swarms  under  Peter  the  Hermit, 
Walter  the  Penniless,  etc.     See  Crusades. 

IV.  1122-1400  (the  Ecumenical  Councils). — 
This  period  of  280  years  is  marked  by  seven 
Ecumenical  Councils,  a  great  increase  in  the 
number  of  local  Synods,  and  their  spread  over  all 
Western  Europe.  They  were  called  forth  by  the 
crusades,  the  spread  of  heresy,  the  conflicts  of 
the  Popes  with  the  Emperors,  the  evils  in  the 
Church  which  called  for  reformation,  and  other 
considerations.  The  inclination  of  the  Popes  to 
strengthen  their  hands  and  carry  out  their  plans 
through  the  action  of  Synods  continued  to  be  a 
marked  feature  of  the  Papal  policy,  as  it  had  been 
in  the  Hildebrandian  age.  The  greatest  of  the 
Popes — Alexander  III.,  Innocent  III.,  Gregory  ix., 
and  Innocent  IV. — summoned  Synods  and  laid 
their  projects  before  them.  The  Ecumenical 
Councils  were  called  by  Popes,  and  the  secular 
prince  had  nothing  to  do  with  their  being 
summoned.  Thus  the  theory  of  the  ancient 
Church  was  set  aside  (see  Dollinger-Friedrich,  Das 
Papstthum,  88 ff.).  The  Papal  ratification  gave 
authority  to  their  decrees,  and  the  first  canon  of 
the  First  Lateran  runs  :  '  Auctoritate  sedis  apost. 
prohibemus,'  etc.  It  is  true  that  the  approbation 
of  the  assembled  prelates  is  sometimes  mentioned, 
and  it  was  assumed  that  it  was  given.  The  formula 
ran  :  '  Sacro  approbante  concilio,'  or  '  Sacro 
praesente  concilio.  So  the  Fourth  Lateran.  The 
seven  General  Councils  were  as  follows  : — 

(1)  The  First  Lateran  (1123),  so  called  from 
having  met  in  the  Lateran  Church  in  Rome,  was 


196 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


— following  the  counting  of  the  Latins — the  9th 
Ecumenical  Council,  or  the  next  in  the  list  after 
the  Council  of  Constantinople  (869).  It  was  called 
by  Calixtus  II.,  and  had  for  its  principal  object  the 
ratification  of  the  Concordat  of  Worms,  known 
also  as  the  Pactum  Calixtinum.  By  that  pact  the 
Church  reserved  to  itself  the  exclusive  right  of 
investing  bishops  with  the  ring  and  the  crozier, 
and  of  inducting  them  into  the  spiritual  functions 
of  their  sees,  while  the  temporal  prince  retained 
the  right  of  inducting  them  into  the  temporalities 
and  of  being  present  at  the  elections.  Our  reports 
of  the  First  Lateran  vary  in  giving  the  number  of 
attending  bishops  and  abbots  as  300-997.  It  was 
the  first  Ecumenical  Council  to  enjoin  clerical 
celibacy.  Following  the  example  of  Urban  II.  at 
Clermont,  it  granted  indulgence  of  sins  to  all 
participating  in  the  crusades,  and,  in  addition,  it 
took  their  relatives  and  their  goods  under  the 
special  protection  of  the  Church. 

(2)  The  Second  Lateran,  or  10th  Ecumenical 
(1139),  was  opened  with  an  address  by  Innocent 
II.,  witnessed  the  close  of  the  disastrous  Papal 
schism  which  had  distracted  the  Church  for  nine 
years,  and  pronounced  against  the  heresy  of  Arnold 
of  Brescia  (see  Otto  of  Freising,  de  gestis  Frederici, 
ii.  20).  It  also  condemned  simony,  priestly  concu- 
binage, and  the  ministration  of  the  sons  of  priests, 
and  introduced  a  new  element  in  forbidding,  for  a 
term  of  years,  tournaments.  Like  the  First  Lateran 
and  the  Third  Lateran,  it  enjoined  the  truce  of 
God. 

(3)  The  Third  Lateran,  or  11th  Ecumenical 
(1179),  was  summoned  and  presided  over  by  Alex- 
ander III.  287  or,  according  to  other  reports,  300 
or  396  bishops  were  present,  besides  many  abbots 
and  other  clergy.  It  celebrated  the  establishment 
of  peace  between  the  Papacy  and  Frederick 
Barb&rossa.  It  made  some  additions  to  the  rules 
for  electing  a  Pope.  Falling  back  on  the  12th 
canon  of  the  Second  Lateran,  it  legislated  against 
heretics,  especially  the  Cathari  and  Patarini,  and 
ordered  separate  burial-places  and  churches  for 
lepers. 

(4)  The  Fourth  Lateran,  or  12th  Ecumenical 
(1215),  was,  with  the  Council  of  Constance,  the 
most  important  ecclesiastical  assembly  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  one  of  the  most  eventful  in  all 
Church  history.  Its  two  chief  acts  were  the 
declaration  of  Transubstantiation  as  a  dogma  of 
the  Church,  and  the  establishment  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion. The  Council  was  called  by  Innocent  III., 
and  attended  by  412  bishops,  800  abbots,  the 
representatives  of  many  absent  prelates,  also  the 
representatives  of  the  Emperor  Frederick  II.,  the 
Latin  Emperor  of  Constantinople,  the  kings  of 
England,  France,  Aragon,  Hungary,  and  Jerusalem, 
and  other  crowned  heads.  The  Latin  patriarchs 
of  the  East  were  also  there.  The  sessions  were 
opened  with  a  sermon  by  the  Pope  on  Lk  2215 
'With  desire  I  have  desired  to  eat  this  passover 
with  you.1  In  his  letter  of  convocation,  Innocent 
had  announced  as  the  objects  of  the  Council : 
measures  for  the  re-conquest  of  Jerusalem  and  the 
betterment  of  the  Church.  The  business  was 
issued  by  the  Pope,  and  free  discussion  in  his 
Imperial  presence  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  The 
doctrine  of  the  Eucharist  was  discussed  for  the 
first  time  at  a  General  Council,  and  the  assembly 
made  the  formal  declaration  that  Christ's  body 
and  blood  are  truly  contained  in  the  Sacrament  of 
the  Altar  under  the  forms  of  bread  and  wine,  the 
bread  being  transubstantiated  into  the  body  and 
the  wine  into  the  blood  (Mansi,  xxii.  982 ;  Mirbt, 
Quellen,  133).  The  formal  adoption  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion by  the  Council  introduced  its  harsh  and 
un-Christian  measures  into  the  body  of  the 
discipline  of  the  Latin  Church.      The  Synods  of 


Verona  (1184),  Avignon  (1209),  and  Montpellier 
(1215)  had  already  taken  definite  action,  but  these 
were  local  assemblies,  although  the  first  was  under 
the  presidency  of  a  Pope.  The  Inquisition,  thus 
established  by  the  highest  authority  of  the  Church, 
— for  both  Pope  and  Ecumenical  Council  ratified  it, 
— was  intended  to  crush  freedom  of  thought  wher- 
ever the  Catholic  Church  went,  and  deliberately 
commended  those  measures  of  the  civil  power 
which  resulted  in  tens  of  thousands  being  brought 
to  the  stake  for  errors  of  opinion.  The  third  canon 
calls  heresy  heretica  foeditas,  and  not  only  sum- 
moned all  bishops  to  search  out  and  punish  heretics 
with  ecclesiastical  penalties,  but  required  rulers, 
upon  pain  of  excommunication,  to  clear  their 
realms  of  heresy  by  the  use  of  the  sword.  More 
especially  was  the  decree  launched  against  the 
Albigenses ;  and  the  Catholics  who  girded  them- 
selves with  the  sword  for  the  reduction  of  that 
people  to  the  faith  were  promised  the  same  indul- 
gence that  was  offered  to  those  who  took  part  in 
the  crusades  against  the  Saracen  (Mansi,  xxii. 
986  ff.  ;  Mirbt,  Quellen,  133  ff.).  The  Council  also 
approved  Innocent's  proposed  crusade,  which  was 
fixed  to  start  in  June  1217.  The  Pope  promised 
as  his  own  contribution  a  vessel  for  the  crusaders 
from  Rome  and  its  vicinity,  and  £30,000  in  money. 
The  indulgence  for  sins  was  extended  to  those  who 
contributed  to  the  expenses  of  the  enterprise,  as 
well  as  to  those  who  went  to  the  East.  The  speedy 
death  of  Innocent  deprived  it  of  his  powerful 
support,  and,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  his  two 
successors,  Honorius  III.  and  Gregory  IX.,  it  was 
never  realized,  unless  the  bizarre  expedition  of 
Frederick  II.  in  1229  be  regarded  in  that  light. 
To  these  decisions  of  greater  moment  were  added 
a  series  of  acts  of  a  moral  and  ecclesiastical  nature, 
which  would  of  themselves  render  the  Fourth 
Lateran  one  of  the  notable  Councils  in  the  history 
of  the  Church.  The  further  establishment  of 
monastic  orders  was  forbidden — a  canon  repeated 
with  an  important  modification  at  the  second 
General  Council  of  Lyons  (1274).  The  Jews  and 
Saracens  were  ordered  to  wear  a  different  dress 
from  the  Christians,  lest  unawares  there  might 
be  carnal  intercourse  between  them,  and  the  Jews 
were  forbidden  to  appear  out  of  doors  during 
Passion  week,  and  excluded  from  public  office. 
Tournaments  were  forbidden  for  three  years,  on 
the  ground  that  they  would  interfere  with  the 
crusade.  This  rule  was  repeated  at  the  Ecumenical 
Council  of  Lyons  (1245). 

(5)  The  First  Council  of  Lyons,  or  the  13th 
Ecumenical  (1245),  was  called  by  Innocent  IV., 
who  had  fled  from  Rome  to  escape  Frederick  II. 
It  took  the  place  of  the  Council  called  by  Gregory 
IX.,  whose  assemblage  had  been  prevented  by  the 
violent  action  of  Frederick  and  his  son  Enzio. 
Innocent,  in  his  opening  address,  called  attention 
to  five  wounds  of  the  Church,  namely,  the  low 
estate  of  the  clergy,  the  distressed  condition  of 
Jerusalem,  the  Greek  schism,  the  menace  of  the 
Tatars  in  Eastern  Europe,  and  the  persecution  of 
the  Church  by  Frederick  II.  The  last  was  the 
greatest  and  most  painful  wound  of  all,  and  itself 
justified  the  assembly.  With  the  assent  of  the 
Council,  Innocent  formally  deposed  Frederick  from 
his  throne.  No  ecclesiastical  Synod  before  or  since 
has  taken  such  ominous  action  against  an  exalted 
monarch.  Frederick  was  unequal  to  the  contest, 
and  died,  defeated  (1250). 

(6)  The  Second  Council  of  Lyons,  or  the  14th 
Ecumenical  (1274),  was  summoned  by  Gregory  x., 
and  attended  by  500  bishops,  70  abbots,  and  1000 
other  ecclesiastics.  Gregory  opened  the  proceed- 
ings with  an  address  on  Lk  2216,  the  text  which 
Innocent  III.  had  used  in  1215.  The  main  topic 
was   the  re-union   of    Christendom.      The    Greek 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


197 


Church  was  represented  by  Imperial  delegates — 
Germanus,  patriarch  of  Constantinople,  the  arch- 
bishop of  Nicsea,  and  other  bishops.  The  Emperor 
through  his  representatives  announced  his  accept- 
ance of  the  double  procession  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  the  primacy  of  the  Apostolic  see.  The  Apostles' 
Creed  was  sung  in  Latin,  and  then  in  Greek.  A 
termination  of  the  Schism  seemed  to  be  at  hand, 
but  the  articles  of  agreement,  when  they  became 
known  in  the  East,  were  rejected,  and  the  Council 
proved  a  failure  at  its  historic  point. 

(7)  The  Council  of  Vienne,  or  the  15th  Ecumenical 
(October  16,  1311 -May  6,  1312),  was  called  by 
Clement  v.,  the  first  of  the  Avignon  Popes,  at  the 
demand  of  Philip  the  Pair  of  France.  The  reports 
of  the  Council  are  unsatisfactory,  but  among  the 
chief  objects  of  business  were  the  abolition  of  the 
order  of  the  Knights  Templar,  the  establishment  of 
peace  between  the  two  contending  wings  in  the 
Franciscan  order,  and  the  condemnation  of  Boniface 
VIII.  as  a  heretic.  The  condemnation  of  Boniface, 
which  Philip  had  strenuously  demanded,  was,  after 
much  discussion,  set  aside,  in  view,  it  is  supposed, 
of  Clement's  concession  to  the  French  sovereign 
that  the  Templars  should  be  destroyed. 

V.  1122  -  1400  (important  local  Synods). — Speak- 
ing in  a  general  way,  the  local  Synods  of  this 
period  derive  their  chief  importance  from  their 
regulations  concerning  the  detection  and  punish- 
ment of  heresy.  They  throw  much  light  upon  the 
religious  conditions  and  clerical  manners  of  the 
period.  After  the  Council  of  Vienne,  and  until 
the  close  of  the  14th  century,  Synods  no  longer 
had  the  importance  they  had  had  before.  This 
was  due  to  the  distracted  condition  of  Western 
Christendom,  resulting  from  the  exile  of  the 
Papacy  to  Avignon,  to  the  growing  tendency  to 
freedom  of  thought  and  expression,  as  manifested 
by  Dante  and  by  the  publicists  in  the  age  of 
Boniface  VIII.,  and  the  increasing  tendency,  since 
Boniface  VIII.,  to  autocratic  Papal  government 
through  bulls.  Among  the  more  important  of  the 
local  Synods  were  the  following  : — (1)  Toulouse 
(1119),  which  passed  important  legislation  against 
heretics.  (2)  Tours  (1163),  attended  by  17cardinals, 
124  bishops,  and  414  abbots.  Alexander  III. 
presided  in  person.  Thomas  a  Becket,  whose 
difficulties  had  begun,  was  present.  The  Synod's 
regulations  against  heresy  are  of  historical  im- 
portance. (3)  The  Council  of  Clarendon  (1164),  a 
mixed  council  of  laymen  and  bishops,  passed  the 
famous  Clarendon  Constitutions,  which  struck  at 
the  root  of  ecclesiastical  arrogance  as  represented 
by  such  prelates  as  Thomas  a  Becket,  and  led 
to  his  flight  from  England.  (4)  Verona  (1164), 
presided  over  by  Lucius  III.,  passed  a  lengthy  and 
notable  decree  concerning  the  trial  and  punishment 
of  heretics.  It  makes  the  first  Conciliar  mention 
of  the  pauperes  de  Lugduno,  or  Waldenses.  Walter 
Map,  the  English  litterateur,  was  present,  and  has 
left  us  an  interesting  account  of  the  examination 
and  appearance  of  the  humble  Waldensian  repre- 
sentatives. Impenitent  heretics  were  turned  over 
to  the  worldly  authority,  and  magistrates  and 
princes  were  ordered  to  aid  bishops  in  spying  out 
heretics  and  bringing  them  to  trial,  on  pain  of 
excommunication.  (5)  The  Synod  of  Trives  (1227) 
has  a  place  of  importance  on  account  of  its  canons 
which  bear  upon  the  administration  of  the 
sacraments  (see  Hefele,  v.  944-55).  (6)  Toulouse 
(1229),  presided  over  by  the  Papal  legate,  celebrated 
the  close  of  the  bloody  crusades  against  the 
Albigenses,  prescribed  the  final  punishment  of  the 
house  of  Toulouse,  and  passed  notable  canons  for 
the  punishment  of  heretics,  its  14th  canon  for- 
bidding laymen  to  have  in  their  possession  the  Old 
and  New  Testaments  in  the  original  or  in  trans- 
lation.    The  laity — men  and  women — were  ordered 


to  attend  the  Communion  three  times  a  year,  and 
to  visit  the  confessional  the  same  number  of  times, 
upon  pain  of  being  suspected  of  heresy.  Toulouse 
was  in  the  centre  of  the  territory  most  infected 
with  heresy.  There  the  Papal  inquisitors  were 
most  active  in  the  13th  century,  and  many  Synods 
in  that  region  and  in  Spain — at  Beziers,  Tarragona, 
Nar bonne,  Albi,  etc. — repeat  the  rules  for  the 
detection  and  punishment  of  the  unfortunate 
victims  of  the  Inquisition.  When,  in  a  later 
century,  persecutions  for  witchcraft  were  carried 
on,  it  was  a  Papal  bull — the  bull  of  Innocent  VIII. — 
and  a  book — the  Malleus  maleficarum — which 
enecursged  that  awful  movement,  rather  than  the 
acts  of  Synods. 

Litbraturk. — The  Collections  of  the  Acts  of  Councils,  by 
Labbe-Cossart,  17  vols.,  Paris,  1674  ;  Hardouin,  12  vols.,  Paris, 
1715,  and  additional  vol.  1722 ;  esp.  Mansi,  31  vols.,  Venice, 
1769-98,  continuation,  Paris,  1900  ff. ;  valuable  excerpts  are  given 
by  Mirbt,  Quellen  zur  Geschichte  des  Papsttums\  Tubingen, 
1901.  For  the  history  of  the  Councils  and  succinct  statement 
of  their  acts :  C.  J.  von  Hefele,  Conciliengesch.  nach  den 
Quellen  bearbeitet*,  9  vols.,  Freiburg  im  Br.,  1873-1890  [vols, 
v.-vii.  rev.  by  A.  Knopfler ;  vols.  viii.  and  ix.  prepared  by 
J.  A.  G.  Hergenrother].  For  the  English  Councils :  David 
Wilkins,  Concilia  Magnce  Britannice  et  Hibernice,  4  vols., 
Lond.  1737  ;  Haddan-Stubbs,  Councils  and  Eccles.  Documents 
relating  to  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  3  vols.,  Oxf.  1869-78 ; 
Gee-Hardy,  Documents  illustrative  of  English  Ch.  Hist., 
Lond.  1896.  For  list  of  Collections  of  Councils  for  other 
countries,  see  E.  Friedberg,  Lehrbuch  des  kathol.  und  evangel. 
Kirchenrechts5,  Leipz.  1903,  p.  143.  For  works  on  Canon  Law  : 
especially  E.  Friedberg,  op.  cit. ;  Philipp  Hergenrother, 
Lehrbuch  des  kathol.  Kirchenrechts2,  ed.  by  J.  Hollweck, 
Freiburg  im  Br.  1905 ;  cf.  also,  Dollinger-Friedrich,  Das 
Papstthum,  Munich,  1892  ;  art.  '  Concil '  in  Wetzer-VVelte,  iii. 
779-810 ;  the  works  on  Church  History,  esp.  A.  Hauck, 
Kirchengesch.  Deutschlands,  4  vols.,  Leipz.  1887-1903  [vols.  i. 
and  ii.  in  4th  ed.  1904].  0.    S.    SCHAFF. 

COUNCILS  (Christian:  Modern,  1400-1910).— 
It  will  be  convenient  to  deal  with  the  Councils  of 
this  period  under  four  separate  heads.  Supremely 
important  as  were  the  dogmatic  pronouncements 
both  of  Trent  and  of  the  Vatican,  they  were  them- 
selves the  utterances  of  two  dissimilar  assemblies, 
deliberating  under  the  stress  of  quite  different 
combinations  of  circumstances,  and  animated  by 
a  notably  different  spirit.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
ecclesiastico-political  influences  at  work  in  the 
early  part  or  the  15th  cent.,  owing  to  the  Great 
Schism,  were  absolutely  unique  in  the  history  of 
Christianity,  while,  from  the  outset  of  this  period, 
the  high  relief  and  importance  given  to  General 
Councils  (owing  to  the  gravity  of  the  crisis  and 
the  desperate  nature  of  the  evils,  which  only  an 
Ecumenical  assembly  could  remedy)  tended  to 
throw  altogether  into  the  background  the  decrees 
of  diocesan  and  provincial  Synods,  and  to  rob 
them  of  all  dogmatic  character  and  influence.  We 
have,  then,  for  our  four  divisions  : — (1)  The  Coun- 
cils of  Pisa,  of  Constance,  and  of  Basel-Ferrara- 
Florence,  all  of  which  were  held  under  the  shadow 
of  the  religious  anarchy  created  by  the  Great 
Schism  of  the  West,  and  in  all  of  which  the  posi- 
tion and  power  of  a  concilium  generate  in  itself  was 
a  question  of  primary  importance.  (2)  Trent,  the 
great  Reformation  Council,  in  respect  of  which 
the  Fifth  Lateran  may  be  regarded  as  an  in- 
effective preliminary,  overshadowed  by  the  really 
important  work  which  the  Papal  legates  and  the 
Fathers  of  Trent,  in  spite  of  disheartening  political 
obstacles,  carried  steadfastly  to  a  conclusion.  (3) 
The  Council  of  the  Vatican,  giving  expression  to 
that  recognition  of  the  Papal  magisterium  and 
that  acquiescence  in  the  policy  of  centralization 
which  three  centuries  of  peace,  organization,  and 
discipline  had  bred  in  the  hearts  of  the  more  pious, 
if  not  always  the  more  learned,  representatives  of 
the  Roman  obedience.  (4)  We  also  require  to  give 
some  brief  consideration  to  the  local  Synods  which, 
in  these  last  four  centuries,  have  done  little  more 
than  popularize  the  great  principles  of  dogma  and 


198 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


discipline  laid  down  at  Trent.  To  the  influence  of 
these  Synods  as  a  whole  is  also  largely  due  the 
extension  of  those  anti-Gallican  tendencies  which 
eventually  took  formal  and  articulate  shape  in  the 
definitions  of  the  Vatican. 

i.  Councils  of  Pisa,  Constance,  Basel-Ferrara- 
Florence. — (1)  Council  of  Pisa. — The  one  out- 
standing fact  in  the  religious  situation  at  the 
beginning  of  the  15th  cent,  was  the  division  of 
Christendom  owing  to  the  Schism.  All  attempts 
to  bring  about  an  accommodation  between  the 
rival  Popes,  Gregory  XII.  and  Benedict  XIII.,  had 
hitherto  proved  abortive.  The  situation  was  in- 
tolerable, and  patience  was  becoming  exhausted. 
Finally,  in  July  1408,  cardinals  belonging  to  both 
Papal  courts  met  at  Livorno  and  proposed  as  a 
solution  the  via  concilii  generalis  utriusque  obedi- 
ential, appointing  25  March  1409  for  the  meeting 
of  such  an  assembly.  The  appeal  evoked  con- 
siderable response.  At  its  maximum  the  attend- 
ance numbered  from  22  to  24  cardinals,  80  bishops, 
87  abbots,  etc.,  while  102  bishops  unable  to  attend 
in  person  sent  procurators.  In  its  eighth  session 
(18  May)  the  Council  proclaimed  itself  ecumenical 
and  canonically  convoked.  On  5  June  it  deposed 
both  the  reigning  Popes  as  notoriously  guilty  of 
schism  and  heresy,  and  empowered  the  cardinals 
then  at  Pisa  to  elect  a  new  Pope  in  their  place. 
The  choice  fell  upon  Peter  Philargi,  Archbishop 
of  Milan  (Alexander  v. ).  But,  as  neither  Benedict 
XIII.  nor  Gregory  XII.  was  willing  to  submit,  the 
only  immediate  result  was  that  there  were  now 
three  claimants  to  the  Papacy  instead  of  two.  As 
for  the  second  avowed  purpose  of  convening  the 
assembly  at  Pisa  (the  causa  reformationis),  it 
was  agreed  that  a  more  careful  preparation  of 
measures  of  reform  was  necessary  than  could  then 
be  attempted.  Any  such  projects  must,  therefore, 
be  left  for  the  consideration  of  another  Council 
to  meet  in  three  years'  time.  Accordingly,  on 
7  Aug.  1409,  the  new  Pope  dissolved  the  assembly. 

It  has  been  the  custom  to  speak  of  the  Council  of  Pisa  with 
scant  respect  as  a  foolish  expedient,  foredoomed  to  failure, 
which  only  added  to  the  divisions  of  Christendom.  Moreover, 
on  the  ground  that  it  was  not  summoned  by  a  legitimate  Pope, 
or  by  the  whole  Church,  or  generally  acknowledged,  it  has  not 
usually  been  allowed,  except  by  avowed  Gallicans,  to  rank 
among  the  Ecumenical  Councils  (cf.  e.g.  Hefele-Leclercq,  Con. 
dies,  1907  ff .,  i.  89) ;  but  a  much  more  favourable  view  of  its 
aims  and  its  results  has  recently  found  acceptance  (see  esp. 
Bliemetzrieder,  Das  Generalkonzil,  305-339).  In  any  case,  the 
assembly  at  Pisa  certainly  did  much  to  pave  the  way  for  the 
solution  ultimately  reached. 

(2)  Council  of  Constance. — Alexander  v.,  the 
Pope  elected  at  Pisa,  died  within  a  year  of  his 
election,  when  he  was  succeeded  by  John  XXIII. 
(Baldassare  Cossa),  who,  though  not  the  monster 
of  depravity  his  enemies  have  depicted,  was  cer- 
tainly unworthy  of  his  high  position,  and  was  him- 
self the  cause  of  scandal  rather  than  a  promoter 
of  reform.  Nothing  in  John's  behaviour  seemed 
to  promise  an  end  of  the  Schism,  and  so,  after  an 
abortive  Council  at  Rome  (1412),  which  mainly 
occupied  itself  with  Wyclif's  writings,  Sigismund, 
king  of  the  Romans,  put  pressure  on  John  and 
forced  him  to  summon  a  Council  to  meet  at  Con- 
stance on  1  Nov.  1414.  Under  Sigismund's  patron- 
age, a  vast  and  rather  motley  assembly  gathered 
there,  with  the  triple  object  (1)  of  defining  the 
true  doctrine  of  the  Church  with  regard  to  the 
teaching  of  Wyclif  and  Hub  (causa  fidei) ;  (2)  of 
putting  an  end  to  the  Schism  (causa  unionis)  ;  and 
(3)  of  reforming  the  Church  alike  in  its  head  and 
in  its  members  (causa  reformationis).  In  respect 
of  the  first  object  a  long  series  of  propositions  was 
extracted  from  the  writings  of  Wyclif  and  his 
Bohemian  followers,  and  these  were  unanimously 
condemned.  On  the  question  of  Communion  in 
one  kind  the  Council  drafted  a  detailed  decree,  in 
which  the  custom  of  the  Church  was  approved, 
that  the  SacraOent  of  the  Eucharist   '  should  be 


received  by  those  who  consecrated  it  under  both 
kinds,  and  by  the  laity  only  under  one,'  seeing 
that  '  it  must  be  most  firmly  held  that  the  Body 
and  Blood  of  Christ  are  contained  entire  both 
under  the  species  of  bread  and  under  the  species 
of  wine.' 

In  the  15th  session  of  the  Council  (6  July  1415), 
Hus,  who,  in  spite  of  his  safe-conduct  from  King 
Sigismund,  had  been  kept  in  close  confinement 
for  several  months  previously,  was,  after  his  re- 
fusal to  retract  his  errors,  solemnly  degraded  from 
the  priesthood  and  burnt  at  the  stake.  No  special 
pleading  can  palliate  this  breach  of  faith,  whether 
the  main  responsibility  falls  upon  Sigismund  per- 
sonally or  upon  the  ecclesiastics  of  the  Council 
(see  Wylie,  The  Council  of  Constance  to  the  Death 
of  John  Hus). 

Meanwhile,  as  regards  the  healing  of  the  Schism, 
the  path  of  the  Council  had  not  been  so  easy.  In 
spite  of  John's  favoured  position  as  the  convoker 
of  the  assembly  under  the  protection  of  Sigismund, 
men  were  not  slow  to  declare  that  a  settlement 
could  be  reached  only  by  the  resignation  of  all 
three  Popes.  To  destroy  the  numerical  preponder- 
ance of  the  Italian  bishops  a  plan  was  adopted 
of  voting  by  nations  (Italian,  German,  French, 
English,  and,  at  a  later  date,  also  Spanish)  to  the 
exclusion,  in  the  general  sessions,  of  the  system 
previously  adhered  to,  which  based  the  decision 
upon  the  simple  majority  of  voices.  The  outcry 
against  Pope  John  made  itself  more  insistently 
heard,  and  on  20  March  1415  he  fled  from  the  city. 
Despite  the  desertion  of  its  official  president,  the 
Council,  at  the  instigation  primarily  of  Zabarella, 
d'Ailly,  and  Gerson,  passed  the  famous  '.Decrees 
of  Constance,'  declaring  itself  to  be  ecumenical 
and  lawfully  convened  ;  asserting  the  claim  of  a 
General  Council,  in  so  far  as  it  holds  its  jurisdic- 
tion immediately  from  God,  to  the  obedience  of 
all  men,  even  though  of  Papal  dignity ;  and 
finally  proclaiming  that  contumacious  resistance 
to  its  authority  was  a  crime  legally  deserving  of 
punishment,  and  involving,  it  might  be,  the  guilt 
of  schism  or  heresy.  The  formal  deposition  of 
John,  on  the  grounds  of  simony,  immorality,  and 
the  fostering  of  schism,  followed  shortly  after- 
wards. Gregory  xil.  resigned,  and  Benedict  XIII., 
after  he  had  been  forsaken  by  the  King  of  Arragon, 
was  also  deposed  (26  July  1417).  Finally,  Odo 
Colonna  (Martin  V.)  was  elected  Pope  (11  Nov. 
1417)  by  23  cardinals  and  30  deputies — six  from 
each  of  the  five  nations — thus  at  last  ending  the 
Schism. 

A  few  spasmodic  attempts  at  reform  were  also 
made  before  the  Council  dispersed.  Serious  differ- 
ences of  opinion  among  the  '  nations ' — the  Italian 
bishops,  for  example,  favouring  the  Papal  claim 
to  Provisors — led  to  the  decision  that,  while  cer- 
tain general  decrees  should  be  passed  upon  matters 
as  to  which  all  were  agreed,  the  Pope  should  be 
left  free  on  the  contested  points  to  arrange  Con- 
cordats with  the  different  nations  separately.  The 
periodical  convening  of  General  Councils  was  also 
determined  upon,  the  first  to  be  held  at  Pavia  in 
1423  ;  and  on  22  April  1418,  Martin  V.  dissolved 
the  assembly. 

The  ecumenicity  of  the  Council  of  Constance  is  a  subject  of 
much  debate.  No  one,  practically  speaking,  denies  that  char- 
acter to  the  Council  after  the  election  of  Martin  v.  Again,  the 
doctrinal  decrees  condemning  Wyclif  and  Hus  are  certainly 
covered  by  the  declaration  of  Martin  v.  in  the  last  session,  that 
he  desired  to  maintain  and  to  ratify  the  decrees,  '  in  matters  of 
faith,1  which  had  been  determined  by  the  assembled  Fathers 
conciliariter.  But  the  decrees  maintaining  the  superiority  of  a 
General  Council  over  the  Pope  were  not,  so  it  is  held,  arrived 
at  conciliariter  but  rather  tumultuariter.  In  any  case,  Martin's 
language  obviously  suggests  that  he  did  not  approve,  the  de- 
crees of  Constance  en  bloc,  while,  if  he  excepted  anything  from 
his  sanction,  it  must  have  been  the  bold,  and  up  to  that  time 
almost  unheard  of,  pretension  to  exalt  conciliar  authority  at 
the  expense  of  the  Papacy,  which  in  1682  became  the  found*- 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


199 


tion  of  the  famous  Gallican  Articles  (see,  e.g.,  Hefele-Leclercq, 
Candles,  i.  69-72).  By  no  Roman  theologian  of  the  present 
day  is  the  ecumenicity  of  the  Council  of  Constance  admitted 
without  reservation. 

(3)  Council  of  Basel-Ferrara-Florence. — In  ac- 
cordance with  the  provisions  of  Constance,  Martin 
V.  was  bound  to  convoke  a  Council  at  Pavia  in 
1423  ;  this  was  done,  but  the  small  attendance, 
the  transference  to  Siena  on  account  of  plague, 
and  other  causes,  furnished  a  reasonable  pretext 
for  dissolving  the  assembly  altogether  in  May 
1424.  Deference,  however,  was  still  paid  to  the 
agreement  arrived  at  in  Constance  regarding  the 
periodical  recurrence  of  Councils,  and  Basel  was 
selected  for  the  next  meeting  in  1431.  Martin  v. 
died  before  the  day  appointed,  and  Eugenius  IV., 
who  succeeded  him,  looking  with  apprehension  at 
the  spirit  which  had  already  manifested  itself  in 
the  handful  of  delegates  present  at  Basel — a  spirit 
which  still  persisted  in  treating  the  Pope  as  only 
the  caput  ministeriale  ecclesice— decided  to  dissolve 
the  Council  even  before  the  end  of  1431.  A  period 
of  great  distraction  followed.  Eugenius,  who  had 
to  some  extent  been  misinformed  regarding  the 
condition  of  affairs  at  Basel,  and  who  was  also,  no 
doubt,  honestly  influenced  by  the  desire  to  facili- 
tate the  re-union  of  the  Greeks  by  summoning  a 
Council  in  some,  to  them  more  accessible,  town  in 
Italy,  was  eventually  constrained,  by  the  deter- 
mination of  the  prelates  at  Basel  and  the  political 
support  accorded  them,  to  set  aside  his  bull  of  dis- 
solution and  to  suffer  the  Council  to  proceed. 
Meanwhile  the  assembly  had  explicitly  renewed 
the  decrees  of  Constance  asserting  the  supremacy 
of  a  General  Council  over  the  Pope,  and  denying 
to  the  Pope  the  right  of  dissolution  without  the 
consent  of  the  Council  itself.  Notwithstanding 
this,  Eugenius  found  himself  compelled  to  pro- 
nounce (decemimus  et  declaramus)  the  continuity 
of  the  Council  of  Basel  as  a  legitimately  consti- 
tuted assembly  from  the  beginning,  to  declare 
pure  et  simpliciter  that  it  was  in  the  enjoyment 
of  his  favour,  and  to  annul  (cassamus,  revocamus, 
etc.)  whatever  he  himself  had  attempted  'to  its 
prejudice  or  against  its  authority.' 

During  the  period  which  followed,  beginning 
with  the  16th  session  (5  Feb.  1434),  the  assembly 
passed  many  useful  decrees  of  reformation,  but, 
by  its  almost  entire  abolition  of  annates  and 
reservations,  it  bore  very  hardly  upon  the  financial 
resources  of  the  Holy  See. 

With  regard  to  some  dogmatic  points  in  the 
proposed  re-union  with  the  Greeks  there  was 
further  friction  between  Pope  and  Council,  and 
the  unstable  peace  was  at  length  entirely  wrecked 
over  the  question  of  the  locality  to  which  the  Ori- 
entals should  be  invited  for  the  discussion  of  their 
differences.  On  this  point  Eugenius  stood  firm, 
and  when,  on  18  Sept.  1437,  he  convened  a  Re-union 
Council  to  meet  at  Ferrara,  Christendom  at  large 
gave  him  its  support  in  the  long  run.  The  remnant 
of  the  Basel  assembly,  after  defining,  on  17  Sept. 
1439,  the  doctrine  of  the  Immaculate  Conception 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin  (Mansi,  xxix.  184),  proceeded, 
under  the  leadership  of  Card.  Lewis  Aleman,  first 
to  suspend  and  then  to  depose  Eugenius  ;  and 
on  5  Nov.  1439  they  elected  a  new  anti-Pope, 
Felix  V.  But  the  common  sense  of  Europe  re- 
volted against  this  renewal  of  the  Schism.  The 
handful  of  prelates  at  Basel  were  gradually  de- 
serted by  their  supporters.  In  1448  they  were 
banished  from  the  city,  migrated  to  Lausanne, 
and  eventually,  in  1449,  made  their  submission  to 
Nicholas  V. 

Meanwhile,  at  Ferrara,  whence  in  Jan.  1439  the 
assembly,  for  sanitary  reasons,  was  transferred  to 
Florence,  a  conspicuously  representative  deputa- 
tion of  the  Greeks,  headed  by  Joseph  II. ,  Patriarch 


of  Constantinople,  and  the  Emperor  John  Palseo- 
logus,  had  gathered  for  the  Re-union  Council, 
influenced  mainly,  no  doubt,  by  the  hope  of  in- 
ducing a  united  Christendom  to  make  common 
cause  in  resisting  the  Turks.  The  path  of  con- 
ciliation was  a  very  thorny  one,  but  eventually 
the  Filioque  difficulty  was  broached,  and  in  the 
end  the  Western  doctrine  was  accepted  by  all  the 
Greek  representatives  save  Marcus  Eugenicus  of 
Ephesus.  Agreement  was  also  arrived  at  con- 
cerning the  use  of  unleavened  bread,  the  '  epi- 
clesis '  question  in  the  liturgy,  the  doctrine  of 
purgatory,  and,  with  more  difficulty,  the  Roman 
primacy.  Most,  but  not  quite  all,  of  the  matters 
discussed  were  enshrined  in  a  Papal  bull  Lcetentur 
cceli  (6  July  1439),  which  informed  the  world  that 
the  decree  of  union  had  received  the  signature  of 
the  Greek  representatives. 

Though  the  main  object  of  the  Re-union  Council 
had  thus,  for  the  time  being,  been  attained,  it 
continued  to  sit  on,  probably  as  a  counterpoise 
to  the  schismatical  assembly  at  Basel.  Several 
other  Eastern  Churches — the  Armenians  (autumn 
of  1439),  the  Jacobites  (1442),  and,  after  the  sessions 
of  the  Council  had  been  transferred  to  the  Lateran, 
the  Syrian  church  of  Mesopotamia  (1444),  and 
certain  Maronites  and  Nestorian  Chaldeeans  (1445) 
— sent  in  their  submission.  The  conspectus  of 
doctrine,  however,  in  the  respective  decrees  of 
union,  notably  the  decretum  pro  Armenis  and  the 
decretum  pro  Jacobitis  (Denzinger-Bannwart, 
Enchiridion  Symbolorum1",  Freiburg,  1908,  nos. 
695-715),  though  very  important  as  an  indication 
of  theological  opinion,  is  not  usually  regarded  as 
an  infallible  pronouncement,  being  considered  as 
aiming  rather  at  disciplinary  instruction  than  at 
definition  of  dogma. 

The  question  of  the  ecumenicity  of  the  decrees  of  Basel- 
Ferrara-Florence  has  been  much  discussed,  and  the  theo- 
logians of  the  extreme  Gallican  school  in  the  17th  and  18th 
centuries  habitually  maintained  that  the  anti-Papal  edicts  of 
Basel,  like  those  of  Constance,  were  to  be  regarded  as  the  duly 
authorized  expression  of  the  voice  of  the  Church  assembled  in 
General  Council.  At  present  the  more  received  view  asserts 
that,  while  the  sessions  at  Ferrara-Florence  may  be  regarded 
as  ecumenical,  those  at  Basel  can  claim  ecumenicity  only  for 
the  decrees  passed  before  1437  and  concerned  with  the  sup- 
pression of  heresy,  the  peace  of  Christendom,  and  the  reform 
of  the  Church.  The  Papal  approval  necessary  for  their  validity 
cannot  be  considered  to  have  extended  to  any  other  matter 
(see  Hefele-Leclercq,  Conciles,  i.  80-86,  and  Baudrillart  in  Diet. 
Thiol.  Cath.  ii.  [1905]  125-128). 

2.  The  Council  of  Reform  (Council  of  Trent). — 
The  extravagant  pretensions  of  the  Councils  of 
Constance  and  Basel  had  had  disastrous  results. 
The  hope  of  reform  in  the  Church  was  almost 
crushed,  for  the  very  mention  of  the  word  '  Council ' 
awakened  resentment  and  mistrust.  Still  the  ener- 
getic protests  of  such  men  as  Savonarola  and  Geiler 
of  Kaisersberg  kept  the  idea  alive,  and,  when  the 
friction  between  Julius  II.  and  Louis  XII.  induced 
the  latter  to  threaten  the  Pope  with  a  General 
Council  and  to  organize  the  schismatical  assembly 
at  Pisa  (1511),  the  need  of  reform  was  put  forward 
as  a  rallying  cry.  Julius  responded  by  anathema- 
tizing the  conciliabulum  and  its  authors,  but  at 
the  same  time  he  convoked  a  Council  himself,  the 
Fifth  Lateran  (1512),  generally  reckoned  the  18th 
General  Council.  It  was  not  numerously  attended, 
and,  though  it  was  prolonged  by  Leo  X.  until 
1517,  the  work  of  reform  in  the  Church,  with 
which  it  professed  to  identify  itself,  was  taken  in 
hand  very  half-heartedly.  Some  useful  decrees 
were  passed  concerning  Papal  provisions  to  bene- 
fices, etc.,  but  the  chief  work  accomplished  was 
the  condemnation  of  the  Pragmatic  Sanction  of 
Charles  VII.,  for  which  was  substituted  a  Con- 
cordat with  Francis  I.  (18  Aug.  1516).  This  re- 
ceived the  formal  approval  of  the  Council,  19  Dec. 
1516  ;  and  in  the  bull  Pastor  ceternus,  issued  with 
the  approval  of    the   assembled  Fathers    in   the 


200 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


same  connexion,  the  Pope  was  declared  to  possess 
authority  over  General  Councils,  which  he  had 
also  the  right  to  convoke,  transfer,  and  dissolve 
(Mansi,  xxxii.  967).  Indirectly  the  '  Gravamina ' 
drafted  by  Wimpfeling  in  1510,  which  in  many 
respects  were  based  on  the  Pragmatic  Sanction 
of  Bourges,  received  their  answer  in  the  same 
bull. 

There  was  little,  then,  in  the  proceedings  of  the 
Fifth  Lateran  to  still  the  clamour  for  the  suppres- 
sion of  abuses,  which  made  itself  heard  more  and 
more  insistently  after  the  revolt  of  Luther  in  1517. 
Soon  the  appeal  came,  in  a  form  not  to  be  ignored, 
from  the  great  ruler  and  statesman  who  found 
himself  called  upon  at  the  same  time  to  maintain 
the  peace  of  the  German  Empire  and  to  uphold  the 
ancient  faith.  The  preliminaries  of  the  Council 
which  Charles  v.  aspired  to  control  form  a  long 
and  extraordinarily  intricate  history,  the  details 
of  which  have  only  recently  been  given  to  the 
world  in  such  collections  of  original  documents  as 
the  Nuntiaturberichte  aus  Deutschland  and  the 
Condi.  Trident.  .  .  .  nova  collectio,  iv.,  edited  for 
the  Gbrres  Gesellschaft  by  Ehses,  or,  again,  the 
fifth  volume  of  Pastor's  Gesch.  der  Pdpste.  The 
Council  was  first  to  have  met  at  Mantua  on  23 
May  1537  (Ehses,  p.  3),  but  the  unwillingness  of 
the  Protestants  to  take  part  in  an  assembly  on 
Italian  soil,  together  with  the  numberless  political 
complications,  as  well  as  the  disagreements  be- 
tween Pope  and  Emperor,  caused  many  delays. 
In  1542,  Paul  III.  summoned  the  Council  to  meet 
at  Trent  on  1  Nov.  of  that  year,  but  the  diffi- 
culties were  such  that  a  beginning  was  not  made 
until  13  Dec.  1545.  Three  Roman  cardinals  pre- 
sided as  legates  over  its  early  sessions — del  Monte 
(afterwards  Julius  III.),  Cervini  (afterwards  Mar- 
cellus  II.),  and  Reginald  Pole.  The  city  of  Trent 
had  been  selected,  as  situated  upon  Imperial  terri- 
tory, though  south  of  the  Alps,  and  easily  acces- 
sible both  from  Germany  and  Italy.  In  the  8th 
session  (11  March  1547),  on  account  of  the  appear- 
ance of  the  plague,  the  transference  of  the  Council 
to  Bologna  was  decided  upon,  in  spite  of  the 
opposition  of  the  Emperor.  Still,  as  Charles's 
bishops  remained  at  Trent  and  the  numbers  at 
Bologna  were  very  small,  no  decrees  were  passed 
during  the  two  sessions  held  there.  To  put  an 
end  to  the  impossible  situation,  Paul  III.  prorogued 
the  Council  on  17  Sept.  1549. 

Julius  III.  again  convoked  the  Fathers  in  1551, 
and  business  was  transacted  in  the  13th  to  16th 
sessions  (11  Oct.  1551-28  Apr.  1552) ;  but,  on  the 
fresh  outbreak  of  hostilities  against  the  Emperor, 
when  the  troops  of  the  Elector  of  Saxony  seemed 
to  threaten  the  safety  of  the  Council,  another 
prorogation  took  place. 

Finally,  Pius  IV.  (29  Nov.  1560)  summoned  the 
bishops  to  Trent  for  the  third  time.  They  should 
have  met  at  Easter,  but  the  work  of  the  Council 
did  not  begin  until  Jan.  1562.  The  Pope's  interest 
in  the  proceedings,  which  were  pushed  on  with 
great  energy,  was  manifested  alike  in  the  sending 
of  five  Cardinal  legates  to  represent  him,  and  in 
the  voluminous  correspondence  maintained  by  the 
Pontiffs  nephew  and  secretary,  Card.  Charles  Bor- 
romeo,  afterwards  canonized  (see  Susta,  Die  rom. 
Curie  und  d.  Concil  v.  Tr.  unter  Pius  IV.).  The 
17th-22nd  sessions  were  held  between  15  Jan.  and 
17  Sept.  1552,  after  which  followed  a  long  period 
of  stormy  discussions  which  nearly  brought  about 
the  abandonment  of  the  Council  j  but,  thanks  to 
the  tact  of  the  'Papal  legates,  two  other  public 
sessions  were  held  in  July  and  November.  The 
25th  and  concluding  session  took  place  under  the 
presidency  of  Card.  Morone,  3-4  Dec.  1563. 

It  should  be  noted,  as  regards  the  method  of 
procedure,  that  by  the  word  '  session,'  which   is 


always  used  in  quoting  the  decrees  of  Trent  (thus, 
for  example,  the  famous  ordinance  for  the  found- 
ing of  seminaries  in  every  diocese  is  cited  '  Cone. 
Trid.  sess.  xxiv.  de  Reform,  cap.  14 '),  we  must 
understand  the   public    and    solemn    sittings    in 
which  the  Fathers  met  to  record,  by  an  as  nearly 
as   possible  unanimous  vote,   the    acceptance    of 
decrees  already  prepared  and  agreed  to.     No  dis- 
cussion took  place  at  these  sittings  ;  the  subjects 
pronounced  upon  had  already  been  fully  debated 
in  preliminary  '  general  congregations.'     Further, 
in   anticipation   of    these    general   congregations, 
schedules  of   '  articles '  were  usually  drafted  by 
the  legates,  and  then  certain  theologians  (theologi 
minores),  who  themselves  had  no  vote,  were  in- 
vited to  express  their  opinion  thereon  before  the 
assembled  Fathers,  to  assist  them  in  forming  a 
judgment.   At  the  same  time  it  had  been  arranged, 
almost  from  the  beginning  of  the  Council,  that 
doctrine  and  discipline  should  be  discussed  simul- 
taneously.    The  Pope  had  wished  the   dogmatic 
questions  at  issue  between  the  Catholics  and  the 
Protestants  to   be  authoritatively  defined   before 
the    Fathers   turned    their    attention    to    reform 
within  the   Church.      Charles  v.,   on    the    other 
hand,  had  wished  these  delicate  points  of  doctrine 
to  be  deferred,  and  he  demanded  precedence  for 
the  correction  of  abuses.     The  Council  compro- 
mised  by  issuing,  at  each  session  productive  of 
legislation,  a  body  of  ordinances  de  Reformations 
together  with    a    varying    number    of    dogmatic 
decisions  and  canons.     All  questions  were  decided 
not  by  nations,  but  by  a  simple  majority  of  voices. 
Practically  speaking,   only  prelates  of  episcopal 
dignity  and  the  generals  of  religious  orders  had 
votes,  though  Paul  III.,  in  the  first  period  of  the 
Council,  allowed  the  procurators  of  certain  German 
bishops  to  vote,  on  the  plea  that  the  state  of  that 
country  rendered  it  difficult  for  bishops  to  quit 
their  dioceses.     The  Italian  sees  had  at  all  times 
a  great  numerical  preponderance.     France,  owing 
to  its  rivalry  with  the  Emperor,  sent  hardly  any 
representatives  except  its  ambassadors.     No  Pro- 
testants appeared  in  the  first  period  of  the  Council, 
but  in  the  second  period,  under  Julius  III. ,  a  body 
of    Protestant  divines — of    course  under  a   safe- 
conduct — attended    the  deliberations  which    pre- 
ceded the  15th  session,  in  view  of  the  possibility 
of  arriving  at    some    compromise  regarding  the 
concession  of  the  cup  to  the  laity.      They   were 
not  allowed  a  vote,  being  in  that  respect  on  the 
same  footing  as  those  Catholic  divines  who  were 
not  bishops.     A  safe-conduct  was  also  offered  to 
Protestants  of  all  countries  in   the   18th  session 
(4  March  1562),   but  none  availed  themselves  of 
the  invitation.      For   various    causes   several    of 
the  sessions  were  barren  of  all  legislation.     For  a 
summary  of  the  decrees  and  canons  of  the  Council, 
see  art.  Confessions,  vol.  iii.  pp.  839-841. 

The  publishing  of  a  revised  index  of  prohibited 
books,  as  well  as  of  a  Missal,  a  Breviary,  and  a 
doctrinal  Catechism  (the  famous  Catechismus  ad 
Parochos),  which  last  had  already  been  set  in  hand, 
was  left  to  the  charge  of  the  Holy  See  ;  and,  with  a 
recognition  of  the  need  of  Papal  confirmation  for 
its  decrees,  the  great  Council  concluded  its  work. 

A  convenient  summary  of  the  more  noteworthy 
additions  made  by  the  Council  of  Trent  to  the 
body  of  doctrine  previously  defined  is  afforded  by 
the  Professio  Fidei  Tridentina,  commonly  known 
as  the  Creed  of  Pope  Pius  IV.  Its  Confessional 
importance  is  indicated  by  the  fact  that  at  the 
present  day  a  convert  joining  the  Church  of  Rome 
is  required  to  make  such  a  profession  of  faith  in 
the  same  or  equivalent  terms.  Formerly  the 
Creed  of  Pope  Pius  itself  was  always  used,  but 
latterly  the  option  has  been  given  of  employing  a 
shorter  form.     Per  contra,  when  in  the  year  1714 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


201 


a  Form  for  admitting  converts  from  the  Church  of 
Rome  was  drawn  up  and  approved  by  both  Houses 
of  the  Convocation  of  Canterbury,  the  proselyte, 
if  in  holy  orders,  was  to  be  asked  :  '  Dost  thou  in 
particular  renounce  the  twelve  last  articles  added 
in  the  confession  commonly  called  "  the  Creed  of 
Pope  Pius  IV.,"  after  having  read  them  and  duly 
considered  them  ? ' — to  which  the  proselyte  was 
required  to  answer  :  '  I  do  upon  mature  delibera- 
tion reject  them  all,  as  founded  upon  no  warrant 
of  Scripture,  but  rather  repugnant  to  the  word  of 
God '  (see  The  Month,  Jan.  1907,  pp.  1-18).  This 
Anglican  form  for  the  reception  of  a  convert  has  of 
recent  years  been  considerably  modified. 

Prof.  Fid.  Trid.  is  quoted  in  full  in  art.  CON- 
FESSIONS, vol.  iii.  p.  841  f. 

3.  The  Vatican  Council. — The  first  hint  of  Pope 
Pius  ix.'s  intention  to  convoke  an  Ecumenical 
Council  seems  to  date  from  6  Dec.  1864,  and  a  little 
later  all  the  Cardinals  resident  in  Rome  were  in- 
vited to  send  in  their  written  opinion  upon  the 
proposal.  The  majority  favoured  it,  but  a  few 
feared  political  complications.  Only  two  of  the 
twenty-one,  when  speaking  of  the  purposes  to  be 
served  by  such  an  assembly,  made  any  reference 
to  a  definition  of  Papal  infallibility  (Granderath, 
Gesch.  i.  44).  The  matter  being  further  brought 
to  the  notice  of  a  select  number  of  bishops  in  all 
parts  of  Europe,  together  with  certain  Catholic 
Orientals,  an  almost  unanimous  reply  was  received 
in  favour  of  the  scheme.  The  motive  principally 
insisted  on  was  the  dangerous  and  subversive 
nature  of  much  modern  religious  teaching,  which 
rendered  it  desirable  to  emphasize  the  powers 
inherent  in  the  Holy  See  as  against  the  Gallican 
and  Erastian  tendencies  of  the  times.  In  1868, 
accordingly,  a  bull  was  issued  convoking  the 
Council  for  8  Dec.  1869.  A  special  Congregation 
of  Cardinals  had  already  been  appointed  to  pre- 
pare the  topics  to  be  discussed  and  pronounced  upon, 
and,  in  subordination  to  this,  five  separate  sub- 
committees, or  '  commissions,'  were  created  to 
deal  with  (i.)  Doctrine,  (ii.)  Discipline,  (iii.)  the 
Regulars  (i.e.  Monks  and  Nuns),  (iv.)  the  Oriental 
Churches  and  Foreign  Missions,  and  (v.)  Politico- 
ecclesiastical  questions.  Considerable  uneasiness 
was  aroused  in  circles  of  Gallican  sympathy  by 
the  strong  Ultramontane  bias  of  many  of  the 
preliminary  arrangements.  The  selection  of  con- 
suitors  invited  to  sit  on  the  commissions — a  selec- 
tion which  excluded  such  scholars  as  Dollinger  and 
von  Schulte — evoked  protest  from  many  moderate 
men,  e.g.  from  Cardinal  von  Sehwartzenberg, 
Archbishop  of  Prague. 

The  endorsement  by  the  Civiltd  Cattolica,  6  Feb. 
1868,  of  a  wish,  attributed  to  many  influential 
French  Catholics,  that  the  definition  of  Papal 
infallibility  might  be  carried  by  acclamation,  was 
taken  to  indicate  the  mind,  not  only  of  the  Jesuits, 
but  of  Pius  IX.  himself.  The  occasion  was  used  by 
Dollinger  to  publish  five  articles  anonymously  in 
the  AZ  of  Augsburg,  in  which  the  main  purpose 
of  the  forthcoming  Council  was  assumed  to  be  the 
definition  of  the  Pope's  infallibility,  and  the  doc- 
trine was  attacked  on  historical  grounds.  The 
articles  were  reprinted  under  the  pseudonym  of 
'  Janus,'  and  were  widely  read  outside  Germany. 
Other  publications,  deprecating  a  pronouncement 
in  favour  of  infallibility,  were  issued  by  Mgr. 
Maret,  titular  Archbishop  of  Sura,  and  Mgr. 
Dupanloup,  Bishop  of  Orleans. 

The  Papal  constitution  Multiplices  inter  of  27 
Nov.  1869,  determining  the  procedure  of  the  Council 
and  affirming  the  Pope's  exclusive  right  to  decide 
what  matters  should  be  submitted  for  discussion, 
also  gave  considerable  dissatisfaction  ;  and,  when 
the  known  opponents  of  the  proposed  definition 
were  systematically  excluded  from  the  'deputa- 


tions '  and  from  other  sub-committees  appointed  in 
the  Council,  it  became  clear  that  the  infallibilists, 
secure  in  their  overwhelming  majority,  intended 
to  carry  things  with  a  high  hand.  They  were, 
moreover,  better  organized,  more  nearly  unanim- 
ous, and  more  energetic  than  their  opponents,  who, 
from  the  fact  that  the  objection  was,  in  the 
case  of  the  greater  number,  one  of  expediency,  not 
of  principle,  lacked  cohesion,  and  were  far  from 
presenting  a  united  front.  Even  those  who  most 
pressed  the  historical  difficulty  knew  that  it  was 
largely  founded  on  a  series  of  highly  debatable 
incidents  about  which  we  have  no  clear  informa- 
tion. That  the  opponents  of  the  definition  were 
sincere  when  almost  all  described  themselves  as 
'  inopportunists '  rather  than  anti-infallibilists  may 
be  inferred  from  their  subsequent  submission,  and 
may  be  illustrated  from  the  famous  letter  of 
Newman  to  the  Bishop  of  Birmingham,  which, 
made  public  through  an  indiscretion,  showed  upon 
the  face  of  it  that  it  was  written  to  his  bishop  in 
absolute  candour.  Herein,  at  the  very  time  that 
he  describes  the  projected  definition  as  the  work 
of  '  an  aggressive  insolent  faction,'  he  remarks : 
'  When  we  are  all  at  rest  and  have  no  doubts,  and 
— at  least  practically,  not  to  say  doctrinally — hold 
the  Holy  Father  to  be  infallible,  suddenly  there  is 
thunder  in  the  clear  sky,'  etc.;  while,  again,  the 
conclusion  of  the  letter  makes  it  manifest  that  the 
writer  had  no  intention  of  doing  otherwise  than 
loyally  to  accept  the  definition,  if  it  were  pro- 
nounced (see  Collectio  Lacensis,  vii.  1513).  On  the 
other  hand,  Manning  (not  then  a  Cardinal)  seems 
to  have  been  the  chief  and  most  energetic  of  the 
organizers  of  the  movement  within  the  Council  to 
press  forward  the  definition  as  a  matter  of  the 
utmost  urgency(  see  Granderath,  Gesch.  ii.  69,  73), 
and  he  himself  made  no  secret  of  the  policy  of  the 
committee  organized  by  him,  to  exclude  from  the 
deputatio  de  fide  every  name  known  to  be  adverse 
to  the  definition.  This,  however,  was  the  work  of 
a  section,  who  were  carrying  through  a  plan  of 
campaign  on  constitutional  lines.  It  was  not  the 
work  of  the  Pope  or  the  Curia  (cf.  Friedrich,  Gesch. 
iii.  175). 

The  first  two  public  '  sessions '  of  the  Vatican 
Council  transacted  only  formal  business  (8  Dec. 

1869,  and  6  Jan.  1870) ;  but  previously  to  the  third 
session,  which  took  place  on  Low-Sunday  (24  Apr. ) 

1870,  a  considerable  amount  of  work  was  done,  and 
the  Constitutio  dogmatica  de  Fide  Catholica  was 
then  passed  unanimously.  It  consists  of  a  pro- 
logue and  four  chapters — (i.)  of  God  the  Creator  of 
all  things,  (ii.)  of  Revelation,  (iii.)  of  Faith,  and 
(iv.)  of  Faith  and  Reason — followed  by  18  canons 
which  sum  up  the  principal  points  defined,  and 
subject  the  contrary  propositions  to  anathema. 
The  errors  so  condemned  included  some  of  the 
fundamental  conceptions  of  Pantheism,  Natural- 
ism, and  Rationalism  ;  for  example,  canon  4  of  (i.) 
runs  thus  : 

'  If  any  cne  shall  say  that  finite  things,  both  corporeal  and 
spiritual,  or  at  least  spiritual,  have  emanated  from  the  Divine 
substance,  or  that  the  Divine  essence,  by  the  manifestation  or 
evolution  of  itself,  becomes  all  things ;  or,  lastly,  that  God  is 
universal  or  indefinite  being,  which,  by  determining  itself,  con- 
stitutes the  universality  of  things,  distinct  according  to  genua, 
species,  and  individuals :  let  him  be  anathema.' 

Again,  in  ch.  ii.  the  Council,  developing  some- 
what the  doctrine  defined  at  Trent  (sess.  iv.), 
declares  that : 

'  The  books  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament  [as  enumerated  by 
the  Council  of  Trent]  are  to  be  received  as  sacred  and  canonical, 
in  their  integrity,  with  all  their  parts  ...  not  because,  having 
been  carefully  composed  by  mere  human  industry,  they  were 
afterwards  approved  by  her  [the  Church's]  authority,  or  merely 
because  they  contain  revelation,  with  no  admixture  of  error ; 
but  because,  having  been  written  by  the  inspiration  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  they  have  God  for  their  author,  and  have  been  delivered 
as  such  to  the  Church  herself.' 

It  is  to  be  noted  also  that,  contrary  to  the  usage 


202 


COUNCILS  AND  SYNODS  (Christian) 


of  earlier  General  Councils,  the  Vatican  decrees 
are  formally  issued,  not  in  the  name  of  the  Ecu- 
menical Synod,  but  '  in  the  name  of  the  Supreme 
Pontiff,  with  the  bishops  of  the  whole  world  as- 
sembled round  us  and  judging  with  us.'  An 
amendment,  proposing  to  add  the  word  definienti- 
bus  to  the  sedentibus  Nobiscum  et  judicantibus 
universi  orbis  episcopis  of  the  decree,  was  rejected 
after  a  somewhat  heated  discussion. 

Twenty  of  the  general  congregations  (10th  to 
29th)  which  preceded  the  third  session  were  given 
up  to  questions  of  disciplinary  reform,  the  most 
interesting  of  which  was  perhaps  the  proposal  to 
draw  up  one  form  of  elementary  catechism,  the 
use  of  which  should  be  obligatory  throughout  the 
whole  Church.  But  this,  like  other  disciplinary 
schemes,  came  to  nothing,  owing  to  the  premature 
termination  of  the  Council.  Much  time  was,  how- 
ever, wasted  in  debate,  and  the  Papal  ordinance 
of  20  Feb.  1870,  for  abbreviating  the  discussions 
and  introducing  a  form  of  closure,  despite  the 
violent  protests  it  elicited  from  the  minority,  was 
really  a  necessary  measure. 

By  this  time,  however,  the  energetic  agitation 
of  Manning,  Senestrey,  and  other  leading  infalli- 
bilists,  resulting,  for  example,  in  a  petition  for 
the  definition,  signed  by  480  of  the  Fathers,  had 

Eushed  matters  so  far  that  the  subject  could  not 
e  shelved.  Originally  the  question  of  Papal 
infallibility  had  not  formed  part  of  the  proposed 
decree  '  on  the  Church  of  Christ '  (see  Coll.  Lacensis, 
vii.  567-578),  but  it  was  later  on  added  to  the 
schema,  and  became  the  subject  of  the  liveliest  con- 
troversy. The  Cardinal  Presidents  in  the  general 
congregations  opposed  rather  than  favoured  the 
efforts  to  declare  this  discussion  urgent,  but  they 
yielded  eventually  to  the  agitation  headed  by 
Manning  and  Senestrey  (Granderath,  Gesch.  iii. 
270).  Fourteen  sittings  were  devoted  to  the  in- 
fallibility question  in  general,  and  sixty-four 
speeches  were  delivered  before  the  closure  was 
applied.  Thirteen  other  sittings  and  fifty-seven 
speeches  were  devoted  to  amendments.  Finally, 
when  the  vote  was  taken  (13  July  1870),  of  601 
Fathers  present  450  voted  placet,  88  non  placet, 
and  62  placet  juxta  modum.  Throughout  the 
debate  not  more  than  three  or  four  speakers  had 
openly  expressed  disbelief  in  the  doctrine  itself ; 
the  minority,  as  a  rule,  contested  only  the  oppor- 
tuneness of  defining  it. 

Before  the  public  session,  18  July  1870,  many 
of  the  minority  left  Rome.  Of  the  535  Fathers 
present  only  two  voted  non  placet.  The  whole 
decree  de  Ecclesia  Christi,  like  its  predecessor, 
consists  of  four  chapters.  Ch.  i.  concerns  the 
Apostolic  primacy  of  St.  Peter,  ch.  ii.  the  per- 
petuity of  the  primacy  in  the  Roman  pontiffs, 
ch.  iii.  the  powers  and  nature  of  the  primacy, 
and  eh.  iv.  the  infallible  teaching  of  the  Holy 
See.  The  kernel  of  the  doctrine  thus  set  forth 
is  expressed  in  the  terms  quoted  above,  in  art. 
Confessions,  vol.  iii.  p.  842. 

Owing  to  the  heat  of  summer  and  the  outbreak 
of  the  Franco-Prussian  War,  fewer  than  200 
Fathers  stayed  on  in  Rome.  Some  further  dis- 
cussions on  matters  of  discipline  took  place,  but 
the  occupation  of  Rome  by  the  Piedmontese  troops 
occurred  soon  afterwards,  and  on  20  Oct.  1870,  Pope 
Pius  IX.  formally  prorogued  the  assembly. 

Severe  criticisms  have  been  directed  by  many  Old  Catholic 
and  other  writers  (cf.  e.g.  Littledale,  art.  '  Vatican  Council,'  in 
EBr®)  against  the  procedure  followed  in  the  Vatican  Council, 
more  especially  with  regard  to  the  infallibility  definition.  It 
has  been  urged  that  the  minority  were  coerced  into  a  simulated 
acceptance  of  the  decrees,  that  the  assembly  was  not  repre- 
sentative, that  the  majority  was  largely  formed  of  Italian, 
missionary,  or  titular  bishops,  who  came  without  mandate 
from  any  appreciable  body  of  the  faithful,1  that  free  discussion 

1  It  has  been  pointed  out,  for  example,  that  Mgr.  Darboy 
(inopporfunist).   Archbishop    of    Paris,    represented    2,000;000 


was  not  permitted,  etc.  There  is  no  doubt  foundation  for  some 
of  these  objections,  but  the  facts  remain  that,  owing  to  the 
facility  of  locomotion,  the  assembly  was  not  less,  but  immensely 
more,  representative  of  the  Catholic  episcopate  than  any  of  its 
predecessors  ;  that  the  vast  majority  were  whole-hearted  in 
favour  of  the  definition  ;  that  in  no  Council  of  the  Church  has 
it  ever  been  the  custom  to  attach  weight  to  the  suffrages  of  the 
bishops  in  proportion  to  the  population  of  the  dioceses  they 
represented ;  that  the  greater  part  of  the  opposition,  whether 
sincerely  or  not,  had  from  the  beginning  styled  itself  'in- 
opportunist,*  not  anti-infallibilist,  and  so  forth.  No  6pecial 
pleading  can  disguise  the  fact  that  the  subsequent  action  of  the 
faithful  at  large  has  as  completely  justified  the  Fathers  of 
the  Vatican  as  the  subsequent  action  of  the  faithful  justified 
the  Fathers  of  Nicsea  or  Chalcedon.  If  the  inopportunist 
bishops  made  their  submission,  as  they  all  did  without  excep- 
tion, we  may  assume  that  either  they  followed  the  dictates  of 
their  conscience  in  so  doing,  or  else  they  were  convinced  that 
their  flocks  would  not  support  them  in  any  act  of  schism. 
Whether  we  hold  that  the  ultimate  appeal  lies  to  the  collective 
voice  of  the  bishops  or  to  the  sense  of  the  great  body  of  the 
faithful,  the  definition  in  either  case,  from  the  point  of  view 
of  the  Roman  Church,  is  fully  justified.  The  sensitiveness  to 
the  rights  of  minorities  displayed  by  the  critics  of  the  Council 
is,  after  all,  a  thing  of  modern  growth.  Any  alleged  high- 
handedness or  irregularity  of  procedure  at  the  Vatican  could 
probably  be  paralleled  many  times  over  in  the  history  of  earlier 
Councils.  No  view  of  the  Divine  constitution  of  the  Church 
has  ever  regarded  the  assistance  of  the  Holy  Spirit  as  promised 
only  to  the  learned  few  in  any  episcopal  assembly,  while  the 
plea  that  the  minority  had  not  been  able  to  make  their  objec- 
tions heard,  after  all  the  discussions  on  the  spot,  and  after  the 
sensation  caused,  long  months  before,  by  the  writings  of 
Ddllinger,  Dupanloup,  and  others,  cannot  be  treated  seriously. 

4.  Councils  other  than  Ecumenical.— Upon  the 
plenary  Councils,  provincial  Councils,  and  diocesan 
Synods  of  this  period,  little  need  be  said.  Al- 
though elaborate  disciplinary  regulations  aiming 
at  the  correction  of  abuses  among  both  clergy  and 
people  were  passed  in  such  Councils  as  those  of 
Mainz  (1451),  Sens,  or,  more  correctly,  Paris  (1528), 
Cologne  (1536  and  1549),  and  Augsburg  (1548),  still 
the  political  disturbances  of  the  times,  and  the 
moral  anarchy  which  almost  necessarily  follows 
in  the  wake  of  a  fundamental  change  in  religion, 
stood  in  the  way  of  any  lasting  improvement.  It 
was  to  the  Council  of  Trent  that  men's  eyes  were 
turned  (not  altogether  in  vain)  to  inaugurate  a  new 
era,  and  the  annual  diocesan  Synods  and  triennial 
provincial  Councils,  which  in  many  places  (e.g.  at 
Milan  under  St.  Charles  Borromeo)  were  convoked 
in  strict  obedience  to  the  Tridentine  decrees  (sess. 
xxiv.  de  Reform,  cap.  2),  undoubtedly  helped 
greatly  to  turn  the  Council's  measures  of  reform 
to  practical  account.  But  under  Pope  Sixtus  v. 
the  important  Papal  constitution  Immensa  (22 
June  1589)  profoundly  modified  the  conditions 
which  affected  the  legislation  of  these  provincial 
Synods.  It  was  now  required  that  the  decrees  of 
provincial  (though  not  diocesan)  Synods  must  be 
submitted  to  a  Roman  Congregation,  and  could 
be  promulgated  only  after  correction,  and  subject 
to  the  modifications,  or  even  the  additions,  of  the 
congregation  in  question.  This  measure,  which 
was  made  the  ground  of  animated  protest  at  the 
Vatican  Council  (see  Granderath,  ii.  179  ff.),  has 
greatly  furthered  the  centralizing  tendencies  at 
work  in  the  Church  of  Rome  during  the  last  three 
centuries,  but  it  has  also  much  diminished  the 
importance  of  provincial  synods,  now  practically 
deprived  of  their  independence.  The  same  cause 
was  probably  not  without  its  effect  in  bringing 
about  the  almost  entire  neglect  of  such  Councils 
during  the  17th  and  18th  centuries.  In  compara- 
tively modern  times — possibly  as  a  result  of  the 
religious  reaction  which  followed  upon  the  French 
Revolution — a  renewed  energy  began  to  make  itself 
felt  in  convoking  these  assemblies.  In  France,  for 
example,  in  the  year  1849  Provincial  Councils  were 
people,  while  65  bishops  came  from  the  States  of  the  Church 
with  a  population  of  less  than  1,000,000.  But  statistics  of 
this  kind  are  plainly  most  fallacious.  The  2,000,000  of  the 
diocese  of  Paris  include  the  hordes  of  the  Commune  who  twelve 
months  later  became  masters  of  the  city,  imprisoned  the  Arch- 
bishop, and  condemned  him  to  death.  It  would  be  as  reasonable 
to  argue  that  Manning  represented  the  six  millions  of  Iyondon 
and  the  adjacent  counties  comprised  in  his  diocese. 


COUNSELS  AND  PRECEPTS 


203 


held  at  Paris,  Rheims,  Tours,  and  Avignon ;  and 
in  1850  at  Albi,  Lyons,  Rouen,  Bordeaux,  Sens, 
Aix,  Toulouse,  and  Bourges.  In  Central  Europe 
there  were  provincial  Councils  at  Vienna  (1858), 
Gran  (1858),  Cologne  (1860),  Prague  (1860),  Kalocsa 
(1863),  etc.  In  the  United  States  six  bishops 
assisted  at  the  first  Provincial  Council  of  Balti- 
more (1829),  but  at  the  first  Plenary  Council, 
which  met  at  Baltimore  in  1852,  the  presence  of 
six  archbishops  and  twenty-six  bishops  marked 
the  developments  of  Roman  Catholicism  in  the 
New  World.  In  England  four  Provincial  Councils 
have  been  held  since  the  restoration  of  the  hierarchy, 
viz.  in  1852,  1853,  1859,  and  1873. 

Historically  speaking,  apart  from  the  Vatican 
Council,  interest  during  the  last  three  hundred 
years  has  centred  chiefly  in  conventions  of  a  rather 
unorthodox  character.  Such,  for  example,  was 
the  Gallican  Assembly  of  the  clergy  summoned 
by  Louis  XIV.  (1681-1682),  which  drew  up  the 
famous  four  Gallican  Articles:  (1)  denying  any 
jurisdiction  of  the  Pope  over  the  royal  authority 
in  temporal  matters  ;  (2)  declaring  the  Pope  to 
be  inferior  to  a  General  Council ;  (3)  limiting 
the  exercise  of  the  Papal  prerogative  by  the 
Conciliary  decrees  and  by  the  customs  of  the  Gal- 
lican Church ;  and  (4)  affirming  that  the  Pope's 
definitions,  even  in  matters  of  faith,  become  irre- 
formable  only  when  confirmed  by  the  consent 
of  the  whole  Church,  Louis  XIV.  imposed  the 
teaching  of  these  Articles  upon  the  clergy  through- 
out his  dominions ;  but,  in  the  face  of  uncompro- 
mising Papal  opposition,  he  eventually  withdrew 
them  in  1693. 

Very  similar  was  the  spirit  which,  growing  out 
of  the  '  Febronianism,'  or  '  Josephism,'  current  in 
Germany  in  the  18th  cent.,  manifested  itself  at 
the  so-called  Synod  of  Pistoia  (1786).  The  Synod 
was  convened  by  Scipio  Ricci,  Bishop  of  Pistoia- 
Prato,  at  the  instigation  of  Ludolph,  Grand  Duke 
of  Tuscany ;  and  it  passed  a  long  array  of  decrees 
on  points  of  canon  law,  ceremonial,  the  rights  of 
the  secular  authority  in  religious  matters,  etc. 
— all  very  Gallican  and  Jansenistic  in  spirit. 
Pius  VI.,  in  the  bull  Auctorem  fidei  (1794),  con- 
demned 85  propositions  of  the  Synod  of  Pistoia ; 
and  Ricci,  in  1799,  and  again  in  1803,  made  humble 
submission  to  the  censure  thus  passed. 

Literature. — i.  General. — Most  of  the  great  collections  of 
the  Councils,  e.g.  those  of  Mansi,  Hardouin,  Labbe  and  Cossart, 
etc.,  have  already  been  mentioned.  It  may  be  noticed,  as  the 
contrary  has  been  implied  in  a  printed  advertisement  emanating; 
from  the  publisher  himself,  that  at  the  date  of  writing:  (Oct. 
1910),  the  volume  of  indexes  long  ago  promised  as  vol.  xxxvi.  in 
the  facsimile  reprint  of  Mansi  has  not  yet  appeared.  On  the 
Canon  Law  of  Councils,  see  Wernz,  Jus  Decretalium,  Rome, 
1906,  ii.  22,  720  S.;  P.  Hinschius,  System  des  kathol.  Kirchai- 
rechts,  Berlin,  1869,  iii.  333  ff.  Upon  the  relations  between  Pope 
and  Council,  see  J.  Turmel,  Hist,  de  latheol.  positive  du  Concile 
de  Trente  au  Concile  du  Vatican,  Paris,  1904,  pp.  300-405. 

ii.  Fifteenth  century  councils.— Hefele-Hergenrother, 
Conciliengesch.,  Freiburg  im  B.  1887-1890,  vii.  viii.  ix.;  Haller, 
and  others,  Concil.  BasUiense,  Studien  und  Quellen,  vols,  i.-v., 
Basel,  1896-1904;  H.  Finke,  Acta  Concil.  Constanc,  Miinster, 
1896  (only  one  volume  published);  H.  v.  d.  Hardt,  Magnum 
cecum.  Constant.  Concilium,  6  vols.,  Frankfort  and  Leipzig, 
1697-1700;  Monumenta  Concil.  General.  Scec.  XV.,  published 
by  the  Vienna  Academy,  3  vols.,  Vienna,  1857-1896 ;  J.  Haller, 
Papsttum  und  Kirchenreform,  vol.  i.,  Berlin,  1903 ;  F.  P. 
Bliemetzrieder,  Das  Generalkonzil  im  grossen  abendldnd. 
Schisma,  Paderborn,  1904  ;  L.  Pastor,  Gesch.  der  Pdpste,  vols. 
i.  and  ii.4,  Freiburg,  1904 ;  M.  Creighton,  History  of  the 
Papacy  from  the  Great  Schism,  i.-ii.2,  London,  1397;  H. 
Finke,  Forsch.  u.  Quellen  z.  Gesch.  d.  Konst.  Konzils,  Pader- 
born, 1889 ;  L,.  Salembier,  Le  grand  schisme  d'Occident 2, 
Paris,  1900  (Eng.  tr.  1908);  N.  Valois,  La  France  et  le  gr. 
schisme  d'Oceid.,  4  vols.,  PariB,  1896-1902;  V.  Vannutelli,  II 
Concilio  di  Firenze,  Florence,  1899  ;  J.  H.  Wylie,  Council  of 
Constance  to  the  Death  of  John  Hus,  London,  1900. 

iii.  Council  OF  Trent.— F.  Baguenault  de  Puchesse,  Hist. 
du  Cone,  de  Trente,  Paris,  1870  [still  the  best  general  view  in 
Bmall  compass] ;  A.  Theiner,  Acta  Genuina  Cone.  Trid.,  2  vols., 
Zagrabise,  1874 ;  Cone.  Trid.  Diariorum,  Actorum,  Epistu- 
larum,  Tractatuum  nova  colleclio,  vol.  i.,  ed.  S.  Merkle,  Frei- 
burg, 1901;  vol.  iv.,  ed.  S.  Ehses,  Freiburg,  1904  (two  other 
volumes  of  this  great  work,  which  appears  under  the  auspices 


of  the  Gorres  Gesellschaft,  are  announced  to  be  in  the  press  ; 
ten  or  twelve  volumes  are  contemplated);  J.  Le  Plat,  Monu- 
mentorum  ad  Hist.  Cone.  Trid.  spectantium  Collectio,  7  vols., 
Louvain,  1781-1787 ;  I.  v.  Dollinger,  Ungedruckte  Berichte  u. 
Tagebuclier  z.  Gesch.  d.  Con.  v.  Tr.,  2  vols.,  Nordlingen,  1876; 
A.  v.  Druffel-Brandi,  Monumenta  Tridentina,  4  vols.,  Munich, 
1885-1897 :  J.  Susta,  Die  rom.  Curie  und  das  Con.  v.  Tr.  unter 
Piusiv.,  2  vols.,  Vienna,  1904-1909;  T.  v.  Sickel,  Zur  Gesch. 
des  Concils  v.  Tr.,  Vienna,  1872  ;  L.  Maynier,  Etude  histor.  sur 
le  Cone,  de  Trente,  Paris,  1874 ;  O.  Braunsberger,  Beati  P. 
Canisii  Epistulce  et  Acta,  vol.  iii.,  Freiburg,  1901;  L.  Pastor, 
Gesch.  der  Pdpste,  vol.  v.,  Freiburg,  1909.  The  two  standard 
histories  are,  of  course,  Sforza-Pallavicino,  Istoria  del  Cone, 
di  Trento,  Rome,  1652  (3  vols.,  written,  with  access  to  the 
archives,  from  the  official  and  Ultramontane  standpoint)  ;  and 
'  Pietro  Soave  Polano '  (Fra  Paolo  Sarpi),  Hist,  del  Cone. 
Trid.2,  Venice,  1629  (conspicuously  anti-Papal  in  tone,  and 
often  distorting  facts  in  the  interest  of  the  writer's  prejudices). 
J.  A.  Froude's  Lectures  on  the  Council  of  Trent,  London,  1896, 
treats  only  of  the  first  period  of  the  Council,  and  is  written 
without  any  reference  to  the  abundant  new  material  published 
within  the  last  fifty  years.  The  Canons  and  Decrees  of  the 
Council  of  Trent  have  been  translated  into  English  by  J. 
Waterworth,  London,  1848. 

iv.  The  Vatican  council.— The  Acta  and  Decreta  of  the 
Vatican  Council,  with  a  very  large  number  of  documents  bearing 
upon  the  preliminaries  of  the  Council  and  the  discussions  to 
which  it  gave  rise,  have  been  printed  in  vol.  vii.  of  the  Collectio 
Lacensis,  Freiburg,  1890.  The  chief  Histories  are  those  of  E. 
Cecconi,  Storia  del  Cone.  Ecum.  Vaticano,  3  vols.,  Rome,  1872- 
1879 :  J.  Friedrich,  Gesch.  d.  Vat.  Koncils,  3  vols.,  Bonn,  1877- 
1887  (this  is  written  from  the  Old  Catholic  standpoint);  T. 
Granderath,  Gesch.  d.  Vat.  Konzils,  3  vols.,  Freiburg,  1903-1906 
(in  the  preparation  of  this  work  the  author  was  afforded  every 
facility  by  the  Roman  authorities,  and  it  may  be  regarded  as 
in  some  sense  the  official  history ;  a  French  tr.  is  in  course 
of  publication);  H.  E.  Manning,  The  True  Story  of  the  Vatican 
Council,  London,  1877  ;  cf.  also  E.  Ollivier,  L'Eglise  et  VUat 
au  Concile  du  Vatican,  2  vols.,  Paris,  1879;  'Quiruius' 
(I.  v.  Dollinger),  Romische  Briefe,  Munich,  1870  (a  collection  of 
critical  and  denunciatory  letters  which  appeared  in  the  All- 
genuine  Zeitung  :  there  is  an  Eng.  tr.,  London,  1870). 

v.  Other  councils. — The  principal  collection  is  Acta  et 
Decreta  Sacrorum  Conciliorum  recentiorum,  7  vols.,  Freiburg, 
1869-1890,  but  the  proceedings  of  many  of  the  provincial  and 
other  Synods,  e.g.  those  of  Baltimore,  Westminster,  and  May- 
nooth,  are  published  separately.  A  very  famous  local  collec- 
tion is  also  the  Acta  Ecclesice  Mediolanensis,  2  vols.,  Milan, 

1599.  Herbert  Thurston. 

COUNSELS  AND  PRECEPTS.— According 
to  the  doctrine  of  the  Catholic  Church,  '  precepts ' 
are  commands  laid  upon  every  Christian,  obedience 
to  which  cannot  be  avoided  without  risking  the  loss 
of  eternal  salvation  ( '  quae  sunt  necessaria  ad  con- 
sequendum  fineni  aeternae  beatitudinis,'  Thomas 
Aquinas,  Swmina,  II.  i.  qu.  cviii.  art.  4).  '  Counsels ' 
or  '  counsels  of  perfection '  are  suggestions  of  very 
virtuous  ways  of  living,  by  the  following  out  of 
which  a  man  may  arrive  more  quickly  and  better 
at  eternal  life  ('per  quae  melius  et  expeditius 
potest  homo  consequi  finem  praedictum,'  ib.),  but 
which  he  may  yet  refuse  without  incurring  blame 
or  imperilling  the  salvation  of  his  soul  ( '  consilium 
autem  in  optione  ponitur  ejus  cui  datur,'  ib.). 
The  '  precepts '  are  the  new  law  of  the  gospel. 
'  Counsels '  are  something  added  to  that  law. 

This  formal  doctrine  is  simply  a  statement  of 
the  judgment  formed  by  the  Church  on  Christian 
living — a  reasonable  account  of  certain  plain  phe- 
nomena which  came  within  the  view  of  all  ob- 
servers. It  was  obvious  from  the  very  earliest 
times  that  some  men  renounced  more  of  the  world's 
goods,  honours,  and  pleasures  than  others  did ; 
accomplishing,  as  it  seemed,  a  more  complete 
dedication  of  their  mental  and  bodily  powers  to 
the  Lord.  These  were  naturally  thought  of  as 
living  a  fuller  and  higher  kind  of  spiritual  life. 
The  judgment  was  in  accord  with  that  of  St.  Paul 
(1  Co  725ff-),  where  the  virgin  state  is  reckoned 
superior  to  the  married,  although  he  that  marries 
has  not  sinned. 

The  distinction  between  a  higher  and  lower  Christian  life  meets 
US  in  Hernias  (lav  5e  ti  a.ya6bv  ironjcrjjs  €/ctos  -njs  eeTOAi)?  rov  Qeov, 
(reaurw  Trepi7roi7Jtrn  S6£a.v  nepujaoTepav  ko.'l  icn  ceSo^OTepos  n-apa 
tw  flew  o5  e/ieAAes  eti-ai  [Sim.  v.  3.  3,  cf.  Mand.  iv.  4.  2j)  ;  in  Ter- 
tulliahin  greater  detail  (ad  Uxor.  i.  3,  ii.  1,  adv.  Marc.  i.  29,  de 
Monog.  i.,  de  Pudic.  16);  in  Cyprian,  who  repeats  almost  the 
words  of  his  '  master'  ('nee  hoc  jubet  Dominus  sed  hortatur  ; 
nee  jugum  necessitatis  imponit,  quando  maneat  voluntatis 
arbitrium  liberum    .    .    .   carnis  desideria  castrantes  majoris 


304 


COUNSELS  AND  PRECEPTS 


gratiae  praemium  in  coelestibus  obtinetis  '  [de  Habit.  Virg.  23])  ; 
in  Origen,  where  a  new  idea  is  introduced  and  a  new  passage  of 
Scripture  referred  to  ('  Donee  quis  hoc  facit  tantum  quod  debet, 
id  est  ea  quae  praecepta  sunt,  inutilis  servus  est ;  si  autem  addas 
aliquid  praeceptis,  tunc  jam  non  inutilis  servus  eris '  [ad  Rom. 
iii.  3]) ;  in  the  pseudo-Clementine  Epistles  to  Virgins,  where 
there  is  a  repetition  of  Hernias'  teaching  (Ep.  ad  Virg.  i.  4)  ;  and 
in  Methodius,  who  teaches,  as  Tertullian  does,  the  lawfulness  of 
marriage,  but  the  superior  sanctity  of  the  virgin  state  (Convio. 
iii.  13,  14). 

The  rise  of  Monasticism  gave  a  new  importance 
to  the  distinction  between  a  higher  and  lower 
Christian  life.  Hitherto  the  contrast  between  the 
most  obviously  ascetic  and  the  most  naturally 
human  kinds  of  life  had  been  plain  but  less  strik- 
ing, less  clamorous  for  reasoned  expression,  than  it 
was  when  the  whole  Church  became  aware  of  the 
supreme  self-denial  of  St.  Anthony  and  his  fol- 
lowers. The  drift  of  crowds  of  nominal  Christians 
into  the  Church,  which  followed  the  conversion  of 
Constantine,  tending,  as  it  did,  towards  a  relaxa- 
tion of  the  earlier  strictness  and  a  lowering  of  the 
general  standard  of  Christian  living,  still  further 
emphasized  the  distinction,  and  made  the  formu- 
lating of  a  theory  of  Christian  life  which  would 
cover  all  the  observed  facts  an  absolute  necessity. 
It  is  noticeable  that  the  early  monks  themselves 
neither  elaborated  nor  seemed  conscious  of  the 
theory  that  their  lives  were  the  following  out  of 
counsels  of  a  higher  way  and  transcended  the 
obedience  to  the  commands  obligatory  on  all 
Christians.  It  was  St.  Ambrose  who  explained 
their  position  for  them,  and  formulated  more 
clearly  than  any  of  his  predecessors  the  doctrine 
of  '  counsels '  and  '  precepts  ' : 

'  Offlcium  autem  omne  aut  medium  aut  perfectum  est,  quod 
aeque  Scripturarum  auctoritate  probare  possumus.  Habemus 
etenim  in  Evangelio  dixisse  Dominum  :  Si  vis  in  vitam  aeternam 
venire,  serva  mandata.  Dixit  ille :  quae?'  etc.,  following  Mt 
igl7-19)  adding  '  Haec  sunt  media  officia,  quibus  aliquid  deest. 
Denique  dicit  illi  adolescens :  Omnia  haec  custodivi,'  etc.,  fol- 
lowing vv.-O-  21,  adding,  '  Hoc  est  igitur  perfectum  omcium'  (de 
OJfic.  Min.  I.  xi.).  Here  for  the  first  time  in  this  connexion  the 
passage  which  afterwards  became  a  standard  proof  of  the 
doctrine  is  quoted  from  St.  Matthew  (see  also,  for  St.  Ambrose's 
statement  of  the  doctrine,  de  Vid.  xii.).  The  use  of  the  expres- 
sions 'medium'  and  'perfectum  officium '  suggests  that  St. 
Ambrose  felt  the  influence  of  Stoic  philosophy.  St.  Augustine, 
in  his  Enchiridion  (121)  and  elsewhere,  and  St.  Jerome  (ado. 
Jovin.  i.  12),  teach  as  St.  Ambrose  does. 

So  far  the  doctrine  of  the  distinction  netween 
'  counsels '  and  '  precepts '  appears  to  have  been 
quite  a  natural  and  probably  an  inevitable  ex- 
planation of  observed  fact.  The  way  of  Christ 
was  a  way  of  renunciation.  It  is  thus  that  He 
Himself  sets  it  forth  when  He  demands  absolute 
poverty  (Mt  1917ff-)  and  recognizes  virginity  per- 
sisted in  for  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven's  sake  (v.12). 
It  was  obvious  that  some  Christians  accomplished  a 
more  complete  renunciation  than  others.  Yet  the 
general  conscience  of  the  Church  refused  to  count 
blameworthy  those  who  renounced  less.  It  fol- 
lowed that  the  life  of  more  perfect  renunciation 
was  a  higher  kind  of  life  voluntarily  entered  upon 
by  those  who  were  ambitious  of  perfection.  It  is 
probable  that  the  doctrine  thus  enunciated  by  St. 
Ambrose  and  St.  Augustine  was  wholesome  for 
the  Church.  There  was  continually  set  before 
men  a  very  lofty  kind  of  life,  and  this  was  recog- 
nized as  worthy  of  peculiar  praise  on  earth  and  as 
inheriting  a  great  reward  in  heaven. 

The  doctrine  of  '  counsels '  and  '  precepts '  was 
worked  out  by  the  Schoolmen,  and  made  to  serve  a 
purpose  which  was  not  conducive  to  spiritual  life 
in  the  Church.  As  the  power  of  the  Church  to 
remit  the  temporal  and  purgatorial  punishments 
of  sin  came  to  be  more  and  more  insisted  on,  the 
need  was  felt  of  a  theory  which  should  justify  the 
power  claimed  and  ultimately  make  less  hopelessly 
unintelligible  the  distribution  of  indulgences.  The 
existence  of  a  treasury  of  merits  ('thesaurus 
meritorum'  [Ps.-Clem.  vi.  ;  Unigenitus  Dei  Filius, 
1343])  was   supposed ;   and   it  was   placed  at   the 


disposal  of  the  head  of  the  Church  for  distribution. 
This  treasury  was  filled  with  the  infinite  merits 
of  Christ  and  the  superfluous  merits  of  those  who, 
by  following  the  counsels  of  perfection,  had  done 
more  than  was  required  (opera  supererogationis) 
for  their  own  salvation.  ( '  In  operibus  poenitentiae 
supererogaverunt  ad  mensuram  debitorum  suorum, 
et  multi  etiam  tribulationes  injustas  sustinuerunt 
patienter,  per  quas  multitudo  poenarum  poterat 
expiari  si  eis  deberetur,'  Thomas  Aq.  Summa,  sup  pi. 
qu.  xxv.  art.  1).  In  the  end  the  conscience  of  the 
Church  was  shocked,  and  the  Reformation  precipi- 
tated, by  the  shameless  sale  of  these  indulgences. 
Luther  and  his  fellow-Reformers,  in  attacking  the 
traffic,  traced  it  back  first  to  the  theory  of  a 
'  treasury  of  merits '  and  then  to  the  doctrine  of 
'counsels'  and  'precepts'  (Luther,  Werke,  Er- 
langen  edition,  1826-57,  lx.  256,  v.  216,  iv.  451  ; 
Articuli  Smalcaldici,  iii.  3,  39).  It  is  plain, 
however,  that,  although  the  existence  of  the 
'  treasury  of  merits '  was  logically  deducible  from 
the  doctrine  of  '  counsels '  and  '  precepts,'  the  de- 
duction need  never  have  been  made.  The  School- 
men might  have  stopped  short  of  it ;  probably 
would  never  have  thought  of  making  it  but  for 
the  necessity  of  completing  and  strengthening  the 
doctrine  of  the  remission  of  penalties.  Also  the 
Reformers  might  have  recognized  as  justifiable 
and  inevitable  the  original  distinction  between 
counsels  of  perfection  and  obligatory  precepts. 
Their  position  probably  would  have  been  stronger 
if  they  had. 

In  another  way  also  the  doctrine  of  '  counsels ' 
and  '  precepts,'  as  elaborated  by  the  Schoolmen, 
militated  against  spirituality,  viz.  by  lowering  the 
general  tone  of  the  Christian  life.  The  harder 
sayings  of  our  Lord,  especially  those  in  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  came  to  be  reckoned  as  '  counsels,' 
and  so  removed  from  the  life  ideals  of  ordinary  men. 
Thus  among  the  '  counsels, '  ordinarily  reckoned  as 
twelve,  are  to  be  found  :  loving  our  enemies,  giving 
alms  not  only  from  our  superfluity,  not  swearing 
without  necessity,  and  so  on  (see  H.  Lammer,  Die 
vortrident.  hath.  TheoL,  Bed.  1858,  p.  171  ff.).  It  is 
inevitable  that  at  periods  of  low  spiritual  vitality 
there  will  be  a  tendency  to  transfer  into  the  cata- 
logue of  counsels  of  perfection  duties  which  make 
very  high  demands  on  devotion,  in  communities 
where  the  Catholic  doctrine  is  fully  accepted.  This 
constitutes  a  serious  danger  and  a  real  objection  to 
the  doctrine. 

The  Protestant  theologians  denied  that  there 
was  any  choice  given  to  man  between  a  higher  and 
a  lower  kind  of  Christian  life.  The  fundamental 
command  to  love  the  Lord  with  all  the  heart  was 
binding  upon  all,  and,  as  there  was  no  possibility 
of  doing  more  than  this,  so  every  failure  to  attain 
to  the  fullness  of  such  love  was  sin  (Luther,  xiv. 
35).  Cases  like  that  of  the  young  man  in  the 
Gospel  who  was  bidden  to  sell  all  and  follow 
Christ  (Mt  1917ff-)  were  met  by  the  assumption  that 
the  command  in  such  cases  was  to  an  individual, 
absolutely  binding  on  that  individual  under  pain 
of  the  sin  of  definite  and  deliberate  disobedience  ; 
but,  having  nothing  to  do,  either  as  a  suggestion  of 
higher  perfection  or  as  an  example  of  eminent 
virtue,  with  those  to  whom  such  a  personal  com- 
mand was  not  given.  This  was  Wyclif 's  position 
( '  omne  consilium  Christi  obligat  quemcunque  ipso 
consultum').  It  ignored  the  distinction  (made, 
however,  only  in  Mt.,  not  in  the  parallel  passages) 
between  'if  thou  wilt  enter  into  life'  and  '  if  thou 
wilt  be  perfect.'  This  theory  that  a  '  counsel '  was 
simply  a  precept  given  to  an  individual — according 
to  Wyclif  only  to  an  'heroic'  individual — was  modi- 
fied by  the  later  Reformers  ;  and  '  counsels '  came 
to  be  considered  as  means  suggested  to  certain 
individuals  whereby  they   might  fulfil  the  com- 


COURAGE 


205 


mandments  of  which  the  '  counsels '  seemed  to  be 
refinements.  Sometimes  for  these  particular  indi- 
viduals the  'counsel'  was  the  only  means  by  which 
the  original  commandment  could  be  fulfilled  at  all. 
Luther,  opposing  Eck,  says  that  '  counsels '  are  not 
'  supra '  but  '  infra  praecepta ' ;  because  they  are 
only  means  of  conveniently  fulfilling  command- 
ments. Thus  virginity  is  not  a  counsel  to  be 
adopted  at  will  or  refused.  It  is  a  means,  perhaps 
for  some  the  only  means,  of  fulfilling  the  law  of 
chastity.  To  such  individuals  it  is  evident  that 
to  refrain  from  marriage  is  a  precept,  absolutely 
obligatory.  To  the  others  it  is  not  a  counsel  of 
perfection,  since,  being  able  in  the  married  state 
to  observe  the  law  of  chastity,  there  is  nothing  to 
be  gained  by  renouncing  marriage  (Luther,  de  Votis 
Monasticis,  viii.  583,  30  ft'.). 

The  result  of  the  Protestant  theory  is  a  reversal 
of  the  previous  judgment  of  the  Christian  eenscience 
about  those  who  follow  the  evangelic  'counsels.' 
A  life  of  virginity  or  of  voluntary  poverty  ought 
no  longer  to  be  considered  a  very  eminent  kind  of 
devotion.  It  is  a  confession  of  weakness,  an 
absolutely  less  perfect  way  of  following  Christ 
than  that  of  the  ordinary  citizen  of  the  world. 
In  comparison  with  the  old  Catholic  judgment  that 
the  way  of  greater  renunciation  is  the  way  of 
nobler  devotion,  the  Protestant  view  appears 
strained,  and  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  voice 
of  the  general  conscience.  It  is  not  possible  to 
alter  the  judgment  of  the  common  man's  conscience 
so  as  to  bring  it  into  line  with  the  deductions 
which  theological  thinkers  make  from  the  positions 
forced  upon  them  by  their  polemics.  In  spite  of 
their  theory,  Protestants  still  continue  to  regard 
as  peculiarly  admirable  the  lives  of  those  who  have 
sacrificed  wealth,  honour,  or  bodily  desire  for  the 
sake  of  Christ  (for  full  discussion  of  this  fact  see 
Append.  III.  of  J.  O.  Hannay's  Spirit  and  Origin  of 
Christian  Monasticism,  1903).  It  is,  however,  to  be 
observed  that  the  Protestant  theologian's  denial 
of  special  honour  to  lives  of  complete  renunciation 
has  had  a  certain  effect.  Protestantism  is  less 
rich  than  Catholicism  in  examples  of  heroic  Chris- 
tianity. The  general  tendency  of  Protestantism 
has  been  to  raise  to  a  high  level  the  common 
Christian  life  and  to  develop  certain  virtues  of  a 
kind  suitable  to  the  lives  of  citizens.  It  has  not 
made  for,  and,  except  in  comparatively  rare  in- 
stances, has  not  achieved,  the  production  of  unique 
saints,  like,  for  example,  St.  Francis  of  Assisi, 
whose  devotion  lays  hold  upon  the  popular  im- 
agination. This  failure  must  be  attributed  to  the 
denial  of  the  doctrine  of  '  counsels '  and  '  precepts,' 
and  the  consequent  unwillingness  of  Protestant 
teachers  to  hold  up  for  admiration  lives  which  must 
always  be  rare,  and  are  never  imitable  except  by 
those  who  realize  the  peculiar  glory  of  very  great 
kinds  of  renunciation. 

Further,  it  has  happened  that  certain  evangelic 
sayings,  regarded  by  the  Schoolmen  as  counsels  of 
perfection,  have,  in  times  of  high  religious  vitality, 
laid  hold  of  the  consciences  of  earnest  Protestants 
and  compelled  obedience.  Thus,  during  the  17th 
cent,  in  England,  our  Lord's  teaching  about  the 
non-resistance  of  evil  fascinated  the  early  Quakers. 
In  a  Catholic  community  their  kind  of  life  would 
have  been  recognized  as  a  following  of  a  counsel  of 
perfection,  and  they  might  very  well  have  become 
an  Order  within  the  Church.  The  refusal  of 
Protestants  to  recognize  the  distinction  between 
'  counsels '  and  '  precepts '  had  a  double  effect.  It 
forced  the  Quakers,  who  in  this  matter  thought 
as  Protestants,  to  defend  their  literal  obedience 
to  the  commands  of  Christ  as  the  only  way  of 
following  Christ.  It  obliged  those  Christians  whose 
consciences  did  not  forbid  them  to  use  force  in 
self-protection  or  in  the  interests  of  society,  to 


condemn  the  position  of  the  Quakers  as  fantastic, 
exaggerated,  and  definitely  wrong.  The  same  sort 
of  thing  happened  in  Germany  and  Flanders  at  the 
time  of  the  Anabaptist  protest  against  the  posses- 
sion of  private  property ;  and  less  strikingly  in 
other  similar  cases  (see  J.  O.  Hannay,  op.  cit. 
ch.  i.).  The  greater  and  more  fully  organized 
Protestant  Churches  have  thus  been  deprived  of 
the  services  of  many  very  enthusiastic  men  and 
women  who  might  have  been  most  valuable  in 
deepening  the  spirituality  of  the  general  life  ;  and 
the  teachers  of  these  Churches  have  been  obliged 
to  read  glosses  into  certain  passages  of  Scripture, 
notably  certain  passages  of  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  in  such  a  way  as  to  obscure  their  plain 
meaning  and  weaken  their  original  force. 

It  appears,  therefore,  that  in  formulating  the 
doctrine  of  '  counsels '  and  '  precepts '  the  Catholic 
Church  did  no  more  than  endorse  and  give  scientific 
expression  to  the  natural  and  obvious  judgment  of 
conscience  which  recognized  in  the  life  of  great 
renunciation  a  peculiarly  high  kind  of  life ;  that 
by  formulating  the  doctrine  the  Church  ran  the 
risk  of  deductions  being  made  from  it  which  would 
in  the  end  outrage,  and  actually  have  outraged, 
the  consciences  of  sincere  believers ;  and  the  further 
risk  of  the  list  of  '  counsels '  being  enlarged  and 
that  of  '  precepts '  diminished,  until  the  common 
man's  standard  of  life  was  seriously  lowered.  It 
appears  also  that  Protestant  theologians,  in  refusing 
to  endorse  the  natural  judgments  of  conscience, 
have  not  succeeded,  in  fact,  in  preventing  such 
judgments  being  made  by  their  followers,  but  have 
deprived  Protestants  of  an  incentive  to  a  lofty 
kind  of  life;  and  have  risked,  and  actually  suffered, 
the  loss  to  organized  Protestant  Churches  of  souls 
who  have  felt  the  need  of  heroic  self-sacrifice  for 
the  sake  of  Christ. 

Literature.— Works  cited  in  text,  and  J.  Schwane,  Be  operi- 
bus  supererogatoriis  et  consiliis  Evangelicis,  Miinst.  1868 ;  K. 
Thieme,  art.  'Consilia  Evangelica,'  in  PRE3,  vol.  iv. ;  R. 
Rothe,  Theol.  Ethiki,  Wittenberg,  1869-70,  vol.  iii. ;  Newman 
Smyth,  Christian  Ethics*,  Edin.  1893;  L.  G.  Smith,  The 
Characteristics  of  Christian  Morality,  London,  1875. 

James  O.  Hannay. 

COURAGE. — Courage  has  figured  as  one  of  the 
prominent  virtues  in  every  ethical  system.  Yet  it 
has  from  early  times  given  trouble  to  scientific 
moralists,  because  it  seems  at  first  sight  compatible 
with  an  utterly  worthless  or  vicious  character. 
This  is,  however,  only  the  case  where  it  is  identi- 
fied with  fearlessness  (q.v.).  Absence  of  fear  in 
physical  danger  may  be  the  result  of  temperament 
and  so  contain  no  moral  element  at  all,  while  a 
certain  dread  of  moral  evil  is  not  exclusive  of 
courage  aE  usually  understood.  Thus  the  Greek 
philosophers  discerned  that,  to  gain  an  accurate 
notion  of  courage,  it  was  necessary  to  define  things 
worthy  or  unworthy  of  fear, 

In  some  of  Plato's  Dialogues,  notably  the  Laches 
and  the  Protagoras,  we  are  made  to  see  the  difficulty 
of  finding  a  place  for  courage  in  any  system  which 
recognizes  the  paramount  position  of  wisdom  or 
knowledge  in  moral  life,  since  not  only  do  brute 
beasts  show  spirit  and  endurance  in  combat,  but 
the  conduct  of  men  in  vigorous  military  efforts 
loses  the  merit  of  courage  if  prudence  suggests  that 
the  forces  are  adequate  to  the  occasion.  In  the 
Republic,  however  (bk.  iv.  429  f.),  Plato  distinctly 
lays  down  the  principle  that  the  Guardians  of  the 
City  (in  whom  the  virtue  of  courage  principally 
resides)  must  acquire  that  quality  by  a  sound 
training  in  the  nature  of  things  to  be  feared  and 
of  things  not  to  be  feared. 

Aristotle,  in  bk.  iii.  of  the  Nic.  Ethics,  submits 
the  whole  subject  to  a  searching  analysis.  Accord- 
ing to  his  principle  of  the  Mean,  courage  lies  be 
tween  rashness  on  the  one  hand  and  cowardice  on 
the  other.     As  fear,  the  foreboding  of  evil,  is  not 


206 


COVENANT 


altogether  to  be  disparaged,  Aristotle,  like  Plato, 
has  to  distinguish  legitimate  from  illegitimate  fears, 
and  finds  that  courage  exists  where  danger  is 
despised  from  a  noble  motive — from  preference  of 
that  which  is  most  honourable.  He  subsequently 
distinguishes  real  courage  from  five  spurious  forms : 
(1)  that  which  is  induced  by  respect  for  authority, 
or  for  opinion ;  (2)  that  which  comes  from  know- 
ledge that  the  danger  apprehended  is  not  real ; 

(3)  courage  arising  solely  from  emotion — anger  or 
vengeance — which  man  shares  with  some  animals  ; 

(4)  the  courage  of  a  hopeful  temperament ;  (5)  the 
courage  of  ignorance  which  cannot  recognize  dan- 
ger. It  may,  perhaps,  be  said  that  this  distinction 
between  genuine  and  spurious  courage  corresponds 
for  the  most  part  to  the  modern  distinction  between 
moral  courage  and  that  which  is  purely  physical. 

Although  Aristotle  in  his  general  treatment  of 
courage  seems  somewhat  nearer  to  the  modern 
ideas  than  Plato,  in  one  respect  Plato  would  seem 
to  us  more  satisfactory ;  he  includes  in  courage 
the  power  and  will  to  resist  evil  generally,  or  to 
bear  calamity  without  flinching  ;  whereas  Aristotle 
would  restrict  the  term  to  its  primary  military 
significance,  regarding  other  meanings  as  deriva- 
tive or  metaphorical.  Certainly  it  seems  illogical 
to  refuse  the  epithet  of  '  courageous '  to  a  man 
who  is  not  alarmed  but  stands  to  his  duty  in  a 
shipwreck  or  an  earthquake,  while  allowing  it  to 
one  who  behaves  in  like  manner  during  the  attack 
on  a  city. 

Courage  thus  held  its  place  with  the  three 
other  virtues — wisdom,  justice,  temperance — in  the 
system  of  Greece  and  Rome.  These  '  cardinal ' 
virtues  were  combined  with  the  three  Christian 
graces  of  faith,  hope,  and  charity,  to  form  the 
seven  virtues  inculcated  in  the  Christian  morality 
of  the  Middle  Ages.  Yet  in  the  new  atmosphere, 
courage — or  fortitude,  as  it  is  commonly  called  in 
this  connexion — underwent  some  transmutation. 
St.  Ambrose — who  derived  his  ethical  system  from 
the  Greeks  via  Cicero,  and  passed  it  on  to  St. 
Augustine,  and  through  him  to  the  Western 
world — would  make  fortitude  include  boldness  in 
withstanding  temptations  to  sin.  To  a  certain 
extent,  he  agrees  here  with  Plato.  But  he  also 
dwells  much  on  heroic  endurance  of  physical  suffer- 
ing as  shown  by  the  Christian  martyrs.  It  would 
seem  probable  that  the  martyr-cult  must  have 
tended  in  the  direction  of  emphasizing  the  passive 
side  of  courage  or  fortitude,  by  which  it  is 
assimilated  to  patience  or  resignation. 

The  Christian  idea  of  fortitude  is  expressed  in 
many  admirable  works  of  mediaeval  art.  Many 
readers  will  recall  Ruskin's  remarks  on  the  Forti- 
tude of  Botticelli  {Mornings  in  Florence,  iii.) : 

'  Botticelli's  Fortitude  is  no  match,  it  may  be,  for  any  that  are 
coming.  Worn,  somewhat ;  and  not  a  little  weary,  instead  of 
standing  ready  for  all  comers,  she  is  sitting,  apparently  in 
reverie,  her  fingers  playing  restlessly  and  idly — nay,  I  think, 
even  nervously,  about  the  hilt  of  her  sword  .  .  .  and  yet,  how 
swiftly  and  gladly  will  they  close  on  it,  when  the  far-off  trumpet 
blows,  which  she  will  hear  through  all  her  reverie.' 

It  may  be  noticed  that  by  mediaeval  Christian 
moralists  fortitude  is  regarded  as  the  corrective 
of  accidie  (q.v.),  the  sin  of  gloom  and  inaction.  It 
seems  thus  to  contain  necessarily  an  element  of 
cheerfulness,  a  resolution  to  live  in  an  atmosphere 
of  hope. 

Perhaps  there  are  few  virtues  that  have  varied 
more  than  courage  in  their  manifestations  among 
different  peoples  and  at  different  fimes.  There  is 
always  an  aesthetic,  as  well  as  a  purely  moral 
element  in  the  conception  of  courage,  and  human 
notions  vary  even  more  about  the  beautiful  than 
about  the  good.  Thus,  during  the  age  of  chivalry 
in  the  West,  the  maturer  civilization  of  the  East 
looked  on  the  aggressive,  unreasoning  courage  of 
the  Crusaders  as  crude  and  barbarous,  while  the 


knightly  spirit  of  the  Franks  despised  Eastern 
subtlety  as  mean  and  cowardly.  Non-military 
times  call  for  the  exercise  of  patience  more  thar 
for  that  of  intrepidity, — though  both  are  essential 
to  the  well-being  of  any  people, — and  there  is 
occasionally  cause  for  fear  lest  a  comparative  con- 
tempt for  merely  physical  courage,  or  '  spirit,'  may 
bring  about  general  slackness  of  effort.  On  the 
whole,  however,  the  actively  combative  powers 
are  likely  to  retain  their  importance  in  popular 
esteem. 

There  is  one  kind  of  courage  which  seems  especi- 
ally to  belong  to  a  highly  civilized  society — intel- 
lectual courage.  By  this  is  to  be  understood  the 
power  and  determination  to  follow  loyally  and 
reasonably  one's  own  beliefs  and  principles,  irre- 
spective not  only  of  the  disapproval  of  neighbours, 
but  also  of  painful  disturbance  in  one's  own  mind. 
The  abandonment  of  an  intellectual  position,  which 
has  been  reached  by  honest  effort,  for  fear  of  the 
further  efforts  which  may  be  required  to  recon- 
stitute one's  theories  in  the  light  of  new  know- 
ledge, is  a  cowardly  proceeding,  and  ought  tc 
receive  more  reprobation  than  it  commonly  incurs. 

Of  cowardice  (ignavia)  as  the  opposite  of  courage, 
little  need  be  said.  It  is  commonly  due  to  consti- 
tutional timidity  not  checked  by  habits  of  self- 
control,  or  to  a  selfish  propensity  to  exaggerate 
the  importance  of  personal  dangers  and  risks  ;  or, 
again,  to  a  want  of  appreciation  of  ideals  worthy 
of  risk  on  the  part  of  those  who  desire  to  attain 
them. 

Literature. — Plato,  Laches,  Protagoras,  Republic,  Laws,  etc. ; 
Aristotle,  Nic.  Elh. ;  H.  Sidgwick,  Hist,  of  Ethics,  London, 
1886;  R.  Thamin.  St.  Ambroise  et  la  morale  chrUienne,  Paris, 
1895 ;  Ambrose,  de  Ojftciis  Ministrorum ;  F.  Paget,  The  Spirit 
of  Disciplines,  London,  1894  (introductory  article  on  '  Accidie ') ; 
A.  Neander,  Church  History3,  London,  1841,  vol.  viii.;  also 
most  ethical  treatises.  ALICE  GARDNER. 

COURTESY.— See  Civility. 
COUVADE.— See  Birth. 

COVENANT.— i.  Introduction.— A  covenant 
is  a  bond  or  agreement  entered  into  between  two 
persons  or  groups  of  persons,  or  between  a  man  or 
a  group  of  men  and  a  god  or  gods.  The  covenant 
thus  entered  upon  may  be  for  a  specified  time,  or 
for  all  time  ;  it  may  cover  certain  clearly-defined 
purposes,  or  it  may  be  indefinite.  The  covenant 
state  is  usually  produced,  or — at  a  later  time — 
symbolized,  by  artificial  means :  eating  or  drink- 
ing together  ;  drinking,  or  being  inoculated  with, 
one  another's  blood  ;  or  by  exchange  of  names  ol 
of  articles  belonging  to  the  covenanting  parties. 
The  relation  produced  by  the  covenant,  as  well  as 
the  real  intention  of  these  ritual  acts,  is  still  in 
debate.  According  to  some  writers,  the  covenant 
produces  kinship  and  introduces  the  stranger  into 
the  clan  which  now  adopts  him. 

*  He  who  has  drunk  a  clansman's  blood  is  no  longer  a  stranger 
but  a  brother,  and  included  in  the  mystic  circle  of  those  who 
have  a  share  in  the  life-blood  that  is  common  to  all  the  clan  ' 
(W.  R.  Smith,  p.  316 ;  cf.  Hartland,  LP  ii.  237). 

This  is  regarded  as  the  primitive  purpose  of  the 
covenant,  and,  moreover, 

4  if  the  individual  kinsman  made  a  blood-covenant  with  a 
stranger,  the  whole  of  each  tribe  was  bound  thereby,'  while 
'  the  original  form  of  alliance  .  .  .  was  always  and  necessarily 
between  clans,  not  between  individuals '  (jevons,  Introd.  to 
Hist,  of  Religion,  99,  142). 

The  actual  evidence  hardly  supports  these  views, 
nor  does  the  covenant  producing  kinship  appear 
among  the  lowest  races.  Generally  the  covenant 
is  an  engagement  between  individuals,  between 
representatives,  or  between  tribes ;  but  there  is 
hardly  ever  produced  kinship  or  blood-relation- 
ship. Hence  another  theory  maintains  that  the 
covenant  relationship  is  that  of  the  identity  of 
individuals,  who  are  mutually  inoculated  by  cer- 


COVENANT 


207 


tain  ritual  actions  of  which  the  blood-covenant 
is  a  well-known,  though  probably  a  late,  instance. 
There  is  produced  identity  of  aims  and  interests, 
as  well  as  mutual  agreement  and  sympathy. 

*  Each  has  a  part  of  the  other  in  his  keeping,  and  this  part 
not  only  assimilates  each  to  the  other  by  transmission  of  pro- 
perties, but  is  a  pledge,  deposit,  and  hostage.  Thus  identity 
of  interests  ia  secured,  and  the  possibility  of  mutual  treachery 
or  wrong  is  prevented,  not  only  by  the  fact  that  injury  done  to 
B  by  A  is  equivalent  to  injury  done  by  A  to  himself,  but  also 
by  the  fact  that,  if  B  is  wronged,  he  may  work  vengeance  by 
injuring  .  .  .  the  part  of  A  which  he  possesses '  (Crawley, 
Mystic  Rose,  237). 

Without  laying  too  much  stress  on  the  latter 
part  of  this  theory,  it  is  certain  that  the  covenant- 
relationship  as  one  of  identity  fits  the  facts  better 
than  as  one  of  kinship.  Yet  it  may  be  observed 
that,  if  the  covenant  produces  identity  of  aims 
and  interests,  since  the  aims  and  interests  of  the 
individual  are  largely  those  of  his  kin,  the  cove- 
nant state  will  so  far  produce  a  kinship  relation. 
But,  as  a  third  theory,  it  is  maintained  that  the 
ritual  act  (eating  together,  transfusion  of  blood, 
etc. ),  while  it  involves  the  parties  to  the  covenant 
in  certain  duties  to  each  other,  '  serves  as  a  con- 
ductor of  conditional  imprecations,'  of  potential 
punishments  for  the  transgression  of  these  duties 
(Westermarck,  Moral  Ideas,  i.  590,  ii.  208 ;  art. 
Cursing  and  Blessing,  p.  369b,  below). 

Frequently  the  parties  to  a  covenant  take  an 
oath  to  keep  it,  or  execrate  vengeance  on  each 
other  if  it  is  broken.  And,  as  many  examples 
show,  the  food,  drink,  blood,  etc.,  is  itself  the 
oath  or  curse,  or  is  the  vehicle  of  either.  Thus, 
in  Madagascar,  the  oath-takers  pray  that  the 
liquid  may  poison  him  who  is  faithless  to  the  bond 
(Dumont  d  Urville,  Voy.  pittoresque  autour  du 
monde,  Paris,  1834-1835,  i.  81).  Or,  as  in  Morocco, 
a  compact  of  friendship  is  sealed  by  eating  to- 
gether at  the  tomb  of  a  saint,  and,  according  to 
the  phrase  used,  '  the  food  will  repay '  him  who 
breaks  the  compact  (Westermarck,  i.  587 ;  cf. 
below,  p.  369"). 

Examples  show  now  the  working  of  the  principle 
contained  in  one  of  these  theories,  now  that  in- 
volved in  the  others,  but  the  kinship  theory  is 
seldom  observed  in  the  complete  form  which  the 
theory  itself  presupposes.  It  is  not  impossible 
that  the  primitive  covenant  contained  both  the 
idea  of  mutual  identity  and  that  of  a  conditional 
curse,  for  the  two  are  not  mutually  exclusive,  as 
various  examples  suggest.  But  it  should  not  be 
forgotten  that  the  covenant  frequently  implies 
no  more  than  faithfulness  to  the  object  of  the 
covenant,  without  any  thought  of  its  producing 
identity  of  persons,  of  aims,  or  of  interests,  much 
less  of  kinship. 

2.  Covenants  between  men. — Of  all  the  various 
outward  signs  of  the  covenant,  that  to  which  most 
attention  has  been  drawn  is  that  each  party  to  it 
drinks  or  is  inoculated  with  the  other's  blood,  or 
that  they  smear  each  other  or  some  sacred  object 
with  it.  Where  the  parties  to  the  covenant  form 
two  groups,  selected  individuals  undergo  the  cere- 
mony, which  usually  forms  an  indissoluble  bond 
(see  Blood  ;  Brotherhood  [artificial],  and  works 
cited  there).  Probably  the  idea  that  kinship 
means  blood-relationship  —  a  relationship  which 
can  be  produced  by  the  blood-covenant— is  not 
primitive.  More  primitive  is  the  idea  that  con- 
tact, eating  and  drinking  together,  exchange  of 
names,  garments,  weapons,  and  the  like,  will  pro- 
duce a  close  bond,  whether  involving  identity  or 
relationship,  between  two  unrelated  persons.  Here 
the  underlying  ideas  are  that  the  whole  adheres 
in  the  part,  that  whatever  has  been  in  contact 
with  a  person,  whatever  is  his,  is  for  all  practical 
purposes  himself ;  that  for  another  to  obtain  pos- 
session of  it  brings  the  owner  under  his  control ; 
hence  to  offer  it  to  another  is  in  effect  to  offer 


oneself.  Thus  mutual  eating,  especially  where 
the  food  is  exchanged,  or  the  mutual  exchange 
of  common  possessions,  makes  men  entirely  de- 
pendent upon  each  other,  makes  their  aims  and 
interests  the  same,  or  produces  identity  or,  accord- 
ing to  the  first  theory,  kinship.  Here,  primi- 
tively, the  act  of  eating  or  exchange  is  itself  the 
covenant,  but  the  food  or  articles  exchanged  are 
also  seen  to  be  vehicles  of  conditional  oaths  or 
curses  verbally  pronounced.  At  the  same  time, 
witnesses  human  or  Divine  may  be  called  to  the 
compact  which  has  been  made.  The  purposes  for 
which  a  covenant  is  entered  upon  are,  e.g.,  friend- 
ship and  comradeship  between  individuals ;  the 
adoption  of  a  stranger  into  a  kin-group ;  mutual 
aid  and  protection — assistance  in  war,  in  revenge, 
or  in  some  hostile  purpose  ;  peace  between  tribes 
after  war  ;  commercial  purposes  ;  union  between 
the  members  of  a  society  or  association,  usually  at 
the  time  of  initiation  into  it,  etc.  It  is  obvious 
that,  since  a  covenant  brings  the  parties  to  it  into 
such  close  affinity,  their  responsibilities  towards 
each  other  are  great  and  must  be  accurately  ful- 
filled, while  also  there  are  produced  many  mutual 
privileges. 

Where  a  common  meal  is  the  chief  feature  of  a 
covenant,  there  is  the  idea  that  what  is  partaken 
of  in  common  establishes  a  bond  of  union  or  of 
identity,  and  this  is  still  more  marked  where 
there  is  an  exchange  of  food.  It  is  possible  that 
the  covenant-meal  may  have  been  the  earliest 
form  of  the  covenant,  and  it  should  be  observed 
that,  quite  apart  from  the  theoretic  view  of  the 
effects  of  mutual  eating  common  among  primitive 
peoples,  there  is  a  natural  basis  to  it.  For,  wher- 
ever men  eat  and  drink  together,  they  tend  to  be 
friendly  towards  each  other.  But,  where  the 
theoretic  view  prevails,  the  eating  together  of  un- 
related persons  produces  automatically  the  cove- 
nant-state. The  stranger  who  eats  with  the  Arab 
is  no  longer  a  stranger ;  the  two  parties  have 
entered  upon  a  bond  of  friendship,  with  mutual 
obligations  which  are  absolutely  sacred.  The  same 
is  true  elsewhere,  as  among  the  Omaha  Indians, 
with  whom,  if  an  enemy 

'  appear  in  the  lodge,  and  receive  a  mouthful  of  food  or  water, 
or  put  the  pipe  in  his  mouth  ...  he  is  bound  for  the  time 
being  by  the  ties  of  hospitality '  (Dorsey,  S  RBE  W,  1884,  p 
271). 

In  general  the  stranger  is  regarded  as  a  source 
of  potential  evil.  Hence  to  give  him  food  identi- 
fies him  with  his  host,  and  probably  at  the  same 
time  makes  him  liable,  should  he  do  wrong,  to  a 
conditional  curse  swallowed  with  the  food.  We 
find  also  covenants  of  mutual  friendship  expressed 
by  eating  together,  especially  where  there  has 
hitherto  been  hostility  between  the  parties.  Thus 
in  Morocco  persons  who  wish  to  be  reconciled  join 
hands  before  a  holy  man  or  at  a  saint's  tomb, 
usually  after  partaking  of  a  common  meal.  This 
is  the  usual  method  of  sealing  a  compact  of  friend- 
ship. If  any  party  to  the  compact  is  guilty  of  a 
breach  of  faith,  it  is  commonly  said  that  '  God 
and  the  food  will  repay  him,'  the  food  being  the 
vehicle  of  a  conditional  curse  (Westermarck,  ii. 
623-624  ;  cf.  Gn  26-8"31  SI"-46 ;  see  also  the  article 
Cursing  and  Blessing,  p.  373b).  Between  vil- 
lages, clans,  or  tribes,  which  have  been  at  war,  on 
the  cessation  of  hostilities  the  covenant  of  peace  is 
almost  invariably  marked  by  a  common  meal  or  a 
species  of  sacrament.  A  typical  instance  is  found 
among  the  Battas,  who,  on  making  peace  and 
forming  unions,  divide  the  heart  of  a  slain  animal 
into  as  many  pieces  as  there  are  chiefs  present. 
Each  chief  roasts  his  piece,  holds  it  up,  and  says  : 

'  If  I  should  ever  violate  my  oath,  I  am  willing  to  be  slaugh- 
tered like  the  bleeding  animal  which  lies  before  me,  and  to  be 
devoured  like  the  piece  of  heart  I  am  about  to  eat '  (P'eather- 
man,  Soc.  Hist,  of  the  Races  of  Mankind,  London,  1881-1891, 
ii.  333). 


2CV5 


C  2  VEXAXT 


nr ?<f\i 
A~stn: 


:r  the    Ceri      -;      .  .     .;   eitant    :r    y;;^ 
:    a  villages  is  emerge  upon  cv:    -.  ■_  . .--  le 


into  it.    lis  :; 


B  egjc  ks, 

i9oe  a  : 


&s    :  : 

0 1    -  7 


lete 

ere 

- 

.-.j--;.   ISSS    v 

:;  tie  MLoae 

- ..  .  - 

... 

. ...      x 

a  Bantu  tribe  , lM—afcMymwsT  *.-y-» --» 

bloodshed,  partake  with  then  iollo'wers  of  the  flesh 

.:'.=.   s'  -    ;   :.". :;i:  :.    :. :    :    ;      ....-..'  :::i 

■  '.  ;  kills  -.  si  :  iftei  sue  .  s  ^Teisn:  nis:  ray  a 
fine  ta  unmj  Tillage  ^hich  book  part  m  tie  ,-i 

.".--_"  xxxv.  il,  - .:  V.  s  is  e-ii-ilert  to  :lts.t 
form  of  the  blood-covenant  in  •which,  the  Mood  of  a 
slanghters-i  —.;:-"  is  irunk  by  all  the  parties  ta 

:    s        :.-..:::     ::'    Herod,   iii    11;   and    :.;   ..;;   ::' 

Hitil.r;    sni    lis    :;..;--.  :isytn::rs.   - '..;    irmk 

:':;  iiioi  :t  ..  sis/  s  in  wine 


isny     is  a  : 

tt;  5     .-: 


aea  at  wsr. 
treaties  in  .1 


Isewiere.  with  the 

;:'   treite    riniln; 

:i  rreen  r-.-~rr.s-.  tc 

"Two  jgng   irs 

if  doth  •was  made 


00c  wttn   tie  ntmi  —  -11-  ts 
5  verv  rnecnent  smini  sri'ie 


;.    —.tn   — _ 

.  ; .         —  -  - 


it  5.  mm 


n:n  tnrt  :s; 
•  inteniri  :: 
ire  tinies  t: 

inte-i.     Ani. 

result  ;::   - 
■  taken,  as  in 


e-ri 


COVENANT  (American) 


209 


the  sacrifice  or  the  meal  which  follows  it  marks  a 
desire  for  union  with  the  god,  and  is  an  expression 
of  a  covenant  alliance  with  him.  In  this  case,  as 
in  covenants  between  men,  there  is  a  common  meal 
of  which  the  two  parties  to  the  covenant  partake 
— the  god  and  the  group  of  worshippers.  In  the 
OT,  God  is  often  represented  as  making  a  covenant 
with  individuals  and  their  descendants,  or  with 
Israel  (Gn  9s  151*,  Nu  25"',  Ex  6«  244a,  Dt  9,  Jer 
3412),  and  the  probability  is  that  sacrifice  was  the 
basis  of  all  covenant  rites  between  God  and  the 
individual  or  the  people  of  Israel  (cf.  Ps  50s, 
Jer  3416;.  This  is  particularly  noticeable  in  the 
case  of  the  covenant  with  Abraham  (Gn  1582-) 
and  with  Israel  at  Sinai  (Ex  244a-).  In  the  first 
case  there  is  no  mention  of  a  sacrificial  meal,  and 
in  the  Eecond  the  blood  of  the  sacrifice  is  sprinkled 
on  the  altar  and  the  people,  thus  uniting  the 
covenanting  parties,  since  the  altar  is  the  token 
of  God's  presence.  This  rite  of  sprinkling  image 
or  altar  and  worshippers,  or  the  analogous  custom 
of  the  worshipper  shedding  his  blood  or  sprinkling 
it  on  the  sacra  (cf.  1  K  18^),  is  widely  spread,  and 
constitutes  a  simple  method  of  union  with  the  god 
— in  other  words,  of  effecting  or  strengthening  the 
covenant  relation  with  him,  or  of  reminding  him 
of  it.  In  other  cases  the  covenant  ritual  consists 
in  placing  and  leaving  the  worshipper's  hair, 
clothing,  etc,  on  the  altar,  but  frequently  in  the 
OT  the  sacrificial  meal  may  be  regarded  as  the 
basis  of  the  covenant — the  god  or  his  worshippers 
eating  together  and  renewing  their  union  with 
each  other.  Hence,  according  to  one  theory,  the 
meal  itself  unites  god  and  men  in  an  act  of  com- 
munion (W.  E.  Smith,  p.  271) ;  or,  according  to 
another  view,  the  food  is  here  again  the  vehicle  of 
conditional  curses  mutually  transferred  to  god  and 
worshipper  (Westermarek,  op.  cit.  ii.  623  ff. ).  Both 
purposes  may,  however,  be  served  by  the  sacrificial 
meal.  It  is  certainly  the  case  that,  in  the  view  of 
the  OT  writers,  breaking  of  the  covenant  by  the 
individual  or  tie  nation  was  followed  bypunish- 
ment  (Dt  IVs-,  Jos  7"^  2313,  Jg  2s0,  2  K188-12), 
while  blessing  followed  its  being  observed  (Ps 
13215).  In  any  case,  what  holds  true  of  these  OT 
sacrifices  is  true  of  similar  sacrifices  elsewhere. 
Indeed,  in  some  aspects  the  mere  offering  of  sacri- 
fice to  a  god,  thus  propitiating  him,  is  the  token  of 
an  alliance  with  him  ;  hence  the  worshipper  asks 
and  expects  help  from  the  god  to  whom  he,  for 
his  part,  is  faithful.  The  same  is  true  of  the  vows 
made  to  a  god  by  a  worshipper,  in  which  he  pro- 
mises certain  things,  usually  a  sacrifice,  for  some 
specified  help  given  him  by  the  god. 

In  the  OT  other  things  are  found  as  signs  of  a 
Divine  and  human  covenant,  e.g.  the  rainbow  in 
the  case  of  Noah  and  his  posterity  (Gn  916),  though 
here  a  covenant  sacrifice  appears  also  (i?*3-);  cir- 
cumcision is  the  token  of  the  covenant  with  Israel 
(Gn  IT10*-),  though  it  is  to  some  extent  a  sacrificial 
rite ;  and  in  Ex  3116  the  Sabbath  is  to  be  kept  for 
a  perpetual  covenant.  For  marl-a  or  cuttings  on 
the  body  as  signs  of  a  covenant,  see  Badges. 

Totemism,  as  'an  intimate  relation  which  is 
supposed  to  exist  between  a  group  of  kindred 
people  on  the  one  side  and  a  species  of  natural  or 
artificial  objects  on  the  other  side,  which  objects 
are  called  the  totems  of  the  human  group '  (Frazer, 
Totemism  and  Exogamy,  London,  1910,  iv.  1),  is 
essentially  a  covenant  relationship,  since  both 
parties  have  entered  explicitly  or  implicitly  into 
an  alliance  for  mutual  help  and  protection. "  This 
covenant  state  is  generally  furthered  by  various 
ritual  acts,  by  which  men  assimilate  themselves  to 
their  totem,  these  being  analogous  to  the  covenant 
rites  between  human  beings.  The  group  of  men 
is,  in  effect,  identified  with  the  animal  species 
which    is    their    totem  •    the    relation    is  one  of 

VOL.  IV. — Ii 


identity.  Similarly,  in  the  rites  used  at  puberty 
for  obtaining  an  individual  animal  guardian  or 
manitou,  and  in  the  relative  positions  in  which  the 
individual  and  his  manitou  stand  to  each  other, 
there  is  the  suggestion  that  t  b  n  is  essen- 

tially a  covenant  one.  Blood-letting  is  the  most 
significant  of  these  rites.  Thus,  the  Mosquito 
Indians  are  said  to  have  sealed  their  compact  with 
the  manitou  by  drawing  blood  from  different  parte 
of  their  body  {SR  i.  740;.  Among  the  Indians  of 
Honduras  each  youth  formed  a  contract  with  his 
nagval,  by  offering  some  of  his  blood  to  it, 
'  whereupon  such  friendship  wag  contracted  between  them 
that,  when  one  of  them  died,  the  other  did  not  BorriTe' 
(Herrera,  'itnerol  Hist,  of .  .  .  Amxriea,  1740,  rr.  138). 

The  American  Indian  youth  generally  killed  the 
animal  which  was  to  be  his  manitou,  and  used  its 
skin  as  a  'medicine-bag.'  There  was  thus  some 
kind  of  blood-covenant  between  the  youth  and  his 
guardian,  and,  as  in  Omaha  Indian  belief  there 
was  a  bond  between  them  so  close  that  the  rnan 
acquired  the  properties  of  the  animal,  so  generally 
it  was  held  that  the  youth  would  not  survive  the 
death  of  his  nagual ;  and  there  was  a  common  idea 
of  the  identity  of  the  two,  or  perhaps  of  an  inter- 
change of  life  between  them. 

The  meal  eaten  by  survivors  at  a  death,  and 
repeated  on  anniversary  occasions,  and  of  which 
the  ghost  is  supposed  to  partake,  has  the  intention 
of  uniting  the  ghostly  and  human  eaters,  and  of 
preserving  the  goodwill  of  the  ghost  by  showing 
that  he  is  not  forgotten.  It  is  thus  a  species  of 
covenant  with  the  dead.  This  is  still  moTe  closely 
marked  in  eases  where  the  mourners  eat  the  dead 
man  himself — perhaps  the  origin  of  the  funeral 
feast.  Other  methods  of  this  implicit  covenant 
with  the  dead  may  be  looked  for  in  such  rites  as 
that  of  the  mourners  cutting  themselves,  letting 
the  blood  drop  on  the  grave,  making  offerings  erf 
their  hair,  or  anointing  themselves  with  the  fat 
or  decomposed  matter  of  the  corpse.  These  are 
analogous  to  the  similar  rites  in  connexion  with 
the  cult  of  gods  (see  Hartland,  op.  cit.  ii.  277  ff-; 
Jevons,  op.  cit.  41  ff). 

Various  customs  in  human  covenants — in  which, 
e.g.,  the  parties  hold  an  animal  whieh  is  sacrificed, 
its  blood  being  sometimes  sprinkled  on  a  sacred 
object,  or  are  sprinkled  with  sacrificial  blood  or 
that  of  an  animal  not  apparently  sacrificial — are 
probably  connected  with  that  type  of  covenant 
sacrifice  in  which  the  parties  are  a  god  and  a  group 
of  men.  Here,  perhaps,  the  sacred  nature  of  the 
sacrifice  makes  it  an  important  basis  of  the  human 
covenant,  while  sacrifices  are  frequently  the  vehicles 
of  a  curse  ;  or,  again,  the  god  to  whom  the  sacrifice 
or  the  blood  is  offered  is  regarded  as  a  third  party 
to  the  covenant  (for  examples,  see  Beotheehood 
[artificial],  voL  ii.  pp.  859b,  870»;  "vTellhausen, 
Reste  arab.  Heid?,  Berlin.  1S97,  p.  128 ;  Lewin, 
Wild  Races  of  S.E.  India,  London,  1870,  p.  228). 
In  many  human  covenants  a  god  is  expressly  called 
upon  as  witness  to  the  contract,  as  in  the  similar 
appeal  in  the  case  of  an  oath.  The  god  is  then 
expected  to  visit  with  his  wrath  the  breaker  of  the 
covenant  (cf.  Herod.  iiL  8 ;  Tylor,  Prim.  Cult.*, 
London,  1903,  iL  342 ;  'Wilson,  Western  Africa. 
1856,  pp.  210,  392). 

Lrri?-ATT2z. — A.  z~  Cr=.wlsv,  Tke  Histie  Ross,  London, 
1902;  E.  S.  HartlEnd,  LP,  London,  1385,  toL  2.-.  F.  B. 
Jevons,  Introd.  to  History  of  Religion,  London,  1593 ;  J. 
Krhler  l  ::::::  tber  ~-  ■-  *;"-  -^  V  ^~  -  ^'  ~  -  --"-  3  ft-,3  Z" IE  W 
v.  415  5.;  A.  H.  Post,  Studisn  zur  EnivicHaagsgssai.  Uz 
Famiiisnreekis,  Oldenburg  and  b£  V.V  k.    5  ~:z- 

RsL  Szm.*,  London,  1S94;  H.  C-  Tr^zzZ-  J~\-:  ELooi  Cevz- 
nant,  London,  13S7,  The.  Threshold  Covenant,  i.ii^:^rrh,  1593 ; 
z..    '."rs:u~i::i:     Z-riT.-    I'.i    _f:-":  -       -  ;.:-:. 

Ideas,  London,  1906-1S06.  J.  A."  MacCVlLOCH. 

COVENANT  (American).— The  substitution  of 
an  artificial  for  a  natural  basis  of  subsistence  had 
the  effect  in  America,  as  elsewhere,  of  establishing 


210 


COVENANTERS 


the  gods  as  the  principal  members  of  the  agri- 
cultural community.  On  their  co-operation  the 
maintenance  of  such  a  community  depended.  To 
some  extent  the  obligation  was  mutual ;  for,  while 
men  reaped  much  benefit  from  the  encouragement, 
advice,  and  practical  assistance  of  the  gods,  they 
were  beholden  to  men  for  the  sustenance  tendered 
through  sacrifice.  A  definite  and  tacit,  if  un- 
written, covenant  thus  came  into  being  between 
gods  and  men,  any  human  breach  of  which  was 
visited  with  Divine  punishment.  The  arrangement 
was  purely  one  of  self-interest  on  both  sides.  Man 
felt  the  necessity  of  placating  the  only  beings 
from  whom  he  could  obtain  foreknowledge  of 
seasonal  and  other  changes,  and,  deeply  sensible 
of  the  value  of  supernatural  assistance,  he  re- 
warded it  as  handsomely  as  he  could — by  gifts  of 
such  food,  drink,  and  clothing  as  in  his  sight 
appeared  most  desirable. 

Commencing  this  practice  by  an  'understanding' 
with  the  earlier  tribal  deities,  he  later  extended  it 
to  the  'great  gods'  of  the  heavens  and  earth, 
whom  from  time  to  time  he  admitted  into  his 
pantheon.  He  felt  that  the  wealth  accruing  from 
this  co-operation  with  Divine  beings  should  be 
fairly  divided.  This  applied  to  the  fruits  of  the 
earth  produced  under  supernatural  guidance,  and 
to  such  live  stock  as  had  been  raised  under  the 
same  auspices.  A  step  further,  and  we  perceive 
that  the  logical  outcome  of  such  a  policy  was  to 
set  apart  such  fields  and  flocks  as  would  satisfy 
the  god,  for  his  own  special  use — these  to  be 
worked  and  tended  by  (in  all  probability)  the  most 
skilful  labourers.  Thus,  according  to  Gumilla 
(Orinoco  Illustrado,  Madrid,  1745,  vol.  ii.  p.  278), 
a  tribe  of  the  Guayanos,  in  consternation  at  an 
eclipse  of  the  moon,  at  once  commenced  work 
upon  a  plantation  for  the  moon-spirit,  considering 
the  eclipse  to  be  a  sign  of  his  displeasure  at  their 
failure  to  supply  him  with  a  separate  field  of  maize. 
The  gods  of  Peru  had  their  own  herds  of  llamas 
and  pacos,  the  flesh  of  which  was  largely  con- 
sumed on  their  altars,  while  the  wool,  woven  into 
cloth,  was  burned  to  provide  them  with  '  astral ' 
clothing,  or  used  in  the  provision  of  raiment  for 
their  images  and  attendants. 

When  mere  animal  sacrifice  fails,  either,  as  in 
Mexico,  owing  to  the  lack  of  large  animals,  or, 
perhaps,  because  of  a  more  sanguinary  popular 
temperament,  the  blood  of  human  victims  is  sup- 
plied to  the  gods  as  nutriment.  Thus  the  Mexican 
god  Huitzilopochtli  lived  wholly  upon  human  sacri- 
fice, countless  thousands  of  victims,  for  the  most 
part  members  of  hostile  tribes,  being  slain  annually 
upon  his  altar.  The  hunter,  too,  as  well  as  the 
cultivator  and  herdsman,  paid  his  debt  to  the 
gods,  who  assisted  him  to  track  his  game  in 
dreams.  Thus  the  Nicaraguan  tendered  to  his 
deer-  and  rabbit-gods  clotted  blood  wrapped  in  a 
cloth,  and  the  Otomi  offered  blood  to  the  great 
Cloud-serpent,  Mixcoatl.  Dwellings,  too,  were 
supplied  to  the  Divine  beings. 

The  natural  conclusion  of  the  savage  in  these 
circumstances  is  that  a  breach  of  his  covenant 
with  the  gods  brings  upon  him  calamities  of  every 
description.  There  is  much  temptation  on  the 
part  of  the  cultivator  to  withhold  a  portion  of 
the  firstfruits  or  other  sacrifice ;  and,  should  this 
temptation  overcome  him,  he  becomes  an  easy  prey 
to  the  malevolence  of  the  slighted  deity.  The 
Peruvians  believed  that  in  such  a  case  the  offended 
god  sent  an  evil  spirit  to  haunt  the  wrongdoer, 
and  that  it  lay  in  wait  for  him  in  his  habitual 
resorts.  His  crops  failed,  his  health  gave  way 
under  some  terrible  disease,  his  stock  perished. 
Such  were  thought  to  be  the  consequences  of 
hucha,  or  sin,  in  Peru  ;  and,  in  the  event  of  a 
national  calamity,    every   member    of    the    com- 


munity was  rigorously  examined,  until,  the  guilty 
one  being  discovered,  restitution  was  forced  from 
him.  Throughout  the  two  Americas  the  idea  of 
the  covenant  with  the  gods  was  quite  as  current 
as  elsewhere ;  and  its  inevitable  workings  have 
been  observed  in  the  economy  of  nearly  every 
tribe. 

Literature. — B.  Sahagun,  Hist.  General  de  las  Cosas  de 
Nueva  Espafia,  Mexico,  1829-30 ;  Bartolomeo  de  las  Casas, 
Apologetica  Historia,  Seville,  1554 ;  Pedro  de  Arriaea,  Ex- 
tirpation, Madrid,  1620 ;  Villa-Gomez,  Carta  Pastoral  contra 
los  Idolatrios,  Lima,  1649.  LEWIS  SPENCE. 

COVENANTERS.— The  subscribers  of  the 
National  Covenant  and  the  Solemn  League  and 
Covenant  rejected  the  theory  of  the  Divine  right  of 
kings,  and  vigorously  opposed  the  absolutism  which 
crushed  the  liberties  of  the  people.  In  the  days  of 
James  VI.,  before  the  Covenants,  the  conflict  was 
begun.  George  Buchanan  in  1579  published  his 
De  Jure  Regni  apud  Scotos,  in  which  he  taught 
that  kings  are  chosen  and  continued  in  office  by 
the  people,  and,  in  particular,  that  the  Scots  had 
always  claimed  and  exercised  the  right  to  call 
wicked  rulers  to  account.  Two  Scotsmen  had 
already  dealt  with  the  old  question  of  the  right  of 
kings.  As  early  as  1521,  John  Major  asserted  in 
his  History  that  the  people  first  made  kings,  and 
could  dethrone  them  ;  while  Hector  Boece  in  his 
History,  published  in  1527,  assumed  that  the  royal 
authority  is  derived  from  the  people.  In  1584, 
Buchanan's  book  was  condemned  by  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment, and  in  the  same  year  were  passed  the  '  Black 
Acts,'  which  declared,  contrary  to  the  teaching  of 
Knox,  that  the  king  was  head  of  the  Church  as  of 
the  State,  that  assemblies  should  not  meet  without 
hi»  sanction,  that  there  should  be  bishops  who 
should  be  appointed  by  him,  and  that  ministers 
should  not  discuss  public  affairs  under  pain  of 
treason.  When  these  statutes  were  framed,  James's 
adviser  was  James  Stuart,  Earl  of  Arran,  who  had 
succeeded  Esme  Stuart,  Lord  of  Aubigny.  Leav- 
ing the  court  of  Henry  III.  of  France,  in  which 
the  doctrine  of  royal  absolutism  was  cherished, 
D'Aubigny  had  proceeded  to  Scotland,  on  the 
mission  of  the  Guises  for  the  restoration  of  Mary 
Stuart  and  the  Catholic  religion,  and  there  had 
taught  the  young  king  to  be  an  autocrat.  The 
Scots,  however,  feared  a  popish  plot ;  and  honestly 
or  dishonestly  he  approved  the  drawing  up  of  the 
Negative  Confession,  assailing  Romanism,  which 
in  1581  was  signed  by  James  and  his  courtiers. 
While  D'Aubigny  was  directing  the  king,  Andrew 
Melvill  was  leading  the  Church  and  inveighing 
against  '  the  bloodie  guillie  of  absolute  authority. 
By  his  influence  the  Assembly  of  1580  condemned 
Episcopacy ;  and  in  1581  presbyteries  were  estab- 
lished with  the  king's  consent,  and  the  Assembly 
approved  the  Second  Book  of  Discipline.  The  Raid 
of  Ruthven,  which  was  devised  for  the  liberation 
of  James  from  the  hands  of  D'Aubigny,  was  suc- 
cessful ;  but  it  could  not  make  the  king  forget  the 
Frenchman's  lessons  in  absolutism ;  and,  when 
Arran  was  the  chief  counsellor,  the  Black  Acts, 
with  their  assertion  of  the  royal  supremacy,  were 
passed.  Though  Arran's  rule  terminated  in  1585, 
James  was  able,  two  years  later,  to  persuade  the 
Parliament  to  declare  that  all  ecclesiastical  pro- 
perty belonged  to  the  crown. 

For  a  time,  however,  James  did  nothing  for  the 
bishops,  and  before  and  after  his  marriage  seemed 
to  favour  Presbyterianism.  In  1590  the  Assembly 
ordained  'the  subscription  of  the  band  of  main- 
teaning  religion  and  confession  de  novo,'  and,  in 
1592,  Presbyterianism  received  from  Parliament  its 
'  Magna  Charta,'  whereby  the  ecclesiastical  courts 
were  legalized,  and  the  liberty  of  the  Church  was 
ratified  by  the  abrogation  of  the  Black  Acts,  so 
far  as  they  interfered  with  its  authority  in  matters 


COVENANTERS 


211 


of  religion.  The  royal  favour  to  Presbyterianism 
was  of  short  duration,  and  in  1596  Andrew  Melvill 
told  James  that  he  was  '  but  God's  sillie  vassall,' 
and  said  : 

'  Sir,  as  diverse  tymes  before,  so  now  again  I  must  tell  you, 
there  are  two  kings  and  two  kingdomes  in  Scotland  ;  there  is 
Christ  Jesus  and  His  kingdome  the  Kirk,  whose  subject  King 
James  the  Sixth  is,  and  of  whose  kingdonie  not  a  king,  nor  a 
head,  nor  a  Lord,  but  a  member.' 

The  words  did  not  convince,  and  James,  casting 
aside  tradition,  called  by  his  own  authority  As- 
semblies, which  yielded  to  his  pressure.  At  last  in 
1610  an  Assembly  restored  Episcopacy,  and  in  1612 
the  Estates  ratified  the  new  order  of  ecclesiastical 
government.  In  justification  of  his  authority, 
James  published,  in  159S,  The  True  Law  of  Free 
Monarchies,  and  set  forth  the  Divine  origin  of  the 
royal  power. 

'  Monarchy, '  he  wrote,  'as  resembling  the  Divinity,  approacheth 
nearest  to  perfection,  as  all  the  learned  and  wise  men  from  the 
beginning  have  agreed  upon.'  He  declared  that  'kings  are 
called  Gods  by  the  prophetical  King  David,  because  they  sit  upon 
God  his  throne  upon  earth,  and  have  the  count  of  their  ministra- 
tion to  give  unto  him.'  Scripture  texts  were  used  to  show  that 
the  people  should  pay  obedience  to  the  king  '  as  to  God's  lieu* 
tenant  on  earth,  obeying  his  commandments  in  all  things,  except 
directly  against  God,  as  the  commands  of  God's  minister,  acknow- 
ledging him  a  judge  set  by  God  over  them,  having  power  to  judge 
them,  but  to  be  judged  only  by  God,  to  whom  only  he  must  give 
account  of  his  judgment.' 

In  the  Basilikon  Doron,  published  shortly  after 
The  True  Law  of  Free  Monarchies,  James  in- 
structed his  son  to  know  and  love  God,  who  had 
made  him  '  a  little  God  to  sit  on  his  throne,  and 
rule  over  other  men.' 

True  to  his  exalted  notion  of  his  office,  James 
used  his  authority  to  change  the  government  of  the 
Church,  and  then  turned  to  the  customs  and  forms 
of  worship.  In  the  Assembly  of  1616,  called  by 
him,  and  the  first  which  met  after  1610,  a  new 
Confession  of  Faith,  Catechism,  Liturgy,  and  Book 
of  Canons  were  projected  ;  and  in  an  Assembly  at 
Perth  in  1618  royal  coercion  secured  the  passing  of 
the  famous  Five  Articles,  which  were  startling 
innovations  in  the  Scottish  ritual.  When  the 
government  of  the  Church  had  been  changed  and 
the  ritual  modified,  the  kin"  was  satisfied  with  the 
exercise  and  recognition  of  his  supremacy ;  but, 
while  by  his  actions  and  writings  he  showed  his 
attachment  to  the  theory  of  the  Divine  right  of 
kings,  he  ruled  in  the  Church  through  Assemblies, 
and,  though  these  were  coerced,  he  preserved  the 
recognized  forms  of  legislation. 

Charles  I.  succeeded  to  his  father's  belief  in  his 
Divine  right,  and  continued,  but  without  tact  or 
discretion,  the  assertion  of  royal  absolutism.  In 
May  1635  he  signed  the  warrant  for  a  Book  of 
Canons,  which  in  the  following  year  was  imposed 
upon  the  Scottish  Church,  without  the  sanction 
of  either  an  Assembly  or  a  Parliament.  Reference 
was  made  in  the  Book  itself  to  a  Liturgy,  after- 
wards known  as  Laud's  Liturgy,  which  was  ratified 
in  1636,  and  in  1637,  on  the  sole  authority  of  the 
king,  was  sent  to  Scotland.  The  Canons,  as  they 
made  no  outward  change  in  the  Church,  did  not 
stir  the  people,  though  they  saw  in  them  a  violent 
exercise  of  royal  power ;  but  the  Liturgy,  also 
devised  by  the  king  as  an  autocrat,  roused  a 
popular  clamour,  and  set  the  nation  against  him. 
The  Liturgy  met  with  instant  opposition,  and  the 
riot  which  occurred  in  the  church  of  St.  Giles, 
Edinburgh,  when  it  was  first  read,  inaugurated  a 
revolution  which  spread  through  the  greater  part 
of  Scotland.  The  Scots,  ever  fond  of  legal  bonds 
of  association,  prepared  a  document  which  is 
known  as  the  '  National  Covenant,'  and  multitudes 
signed  it. 

The  document  was  prepared  by  Johnston  of 
Warriston,  one  of  the  ablest  of  the  lawyers, 
and  the  Rev.  Alexander  Henderson,  minister  of 
Leuchars,  who  was  the  ecclesiastical  leader  of  the 


Presbyterians  ;  and  with  them  most  probably  was 
associated  Hope,  the  king's  advocate.  It  included 
the  Negative  Confession  of  1581,  which  James  VI. 
had  signed ;  a  list  of  the  Acts  of  Parliament  con- 
firming the  Confession  ;  and  the  Covenant  proper, 
by  which  the  subscribers  bound  themselves  to 
defend  their  religion  and  their  king  as  guardian  of 
it.  The  signing  of  the  Covenant  was  begun  on  28th 
Feb.  1638,  in  the  Greyfriars  churchyard,  which 
contained  the  burial-place  of  George  Buchanan, 
whose  De  Jure  helped  to  drive  James  towards 
absolutism.  If  the  nrst  Covenanters,  drawn  from 
all  classes  and  representing  the  greater  part  of  the 
country,  were  rebels  against  the  king's  tyranny, 
their  document  infringed  no  law  of  the  land.  Yet 
it  was  the  bond  of  a  nation  against  the  sovereign, 
and,  with  troubles  in  England,  Charles  was  forced 
to  yield.  He  appointed  the  Marquis  of  Hamilton 
as  his  commissioner,  who  tried  to  divide  the 
Covenanters  by  means  of  a  new  Covenant,  the 
King's  Covenant,  which  included  but  did  not 
enforce  the  Confession  of  1581  ;  and,  when  the 
project  failed,  Hamilton  in  his  master's  name 
promised  a  free  Assembly,  a  Parliament,  and  the 
abolition  of  the  Courts  of  High  Commission  which, 
with  bishops  among  the  judges,  tried  ecclesiastical 
cases.  The  Presbyterians  did  not  admit  that  the 
royal  assent  was  necessary  for  an  Assembly,  and 
accordingly  they  called  one,  which  met  on  21st 
November  in  Glasgow.  The  Marquis  of  Hamilton 
appeared  as  the  king's  representative,  and  the 
members  chose  Henderson  as  moderator  and  John- 
ston of  Warriston  as  clerk. 

Henderson  and  his  associates  had  summoned  the 
bishops,  but  these  refused  to  recognize  the  authority 
of  the  Assembly  ;  and,  when  their  cases  were  con- 
sidered, the  commissioner  declared  the  proceedings 
illegal,  and  dissolved  the  Assembly.  The  Presby- 
terians, however,  were  undaunted,  and  the  business 
was  continued,  without  and  in  spite  of  the  king's 
representative.  The  bishops  were  deposed,  and 
some  of  them  excommunicated ;  the  Book  of  Canons, 
the  Liturgy,  and  the  Five  Articles  of  Perth  were 
condemned,  and  the  Courtsof  Commission  abolished. 
Thus  did  the  Covenanters  in  the  Glasgow  Assembly 
answer  the  king  with  his  absolutism.  The  Earl  of 
Argyle  accepted  the  Covenant  in  Glasgow,  and  it 
had  been  signed  by  the  Earl  of  Montrose  in  Edin- 
burgh. 

War  was  inevitable,  and  Charles  devised  schemes 
for  which  he  had  no  money.  He  attempted,  how- 
ever, to  irritate  the  English  by  representing  that 
the  Scots  were  preparing  an  invasion  ;  and  the 
Scots,  in  defence  of  their  honesty,  published  '  An 
Information  for  all  good  Christians  within  the 
Kingdome  of  England.'  Another  document  ap- 
peared, the  '  Large  Declaration,'  which  Dr.  Bai- 
canquhal  wrote  and  Charles  authorized.  It  was 
the  king's  version  of  his  troubles  with  the  Scots, 
and  was  not  a  contribution  to  truth.  Something 
more  than  a  distribution  of  pamphlets  was  required 
to  settle  the  quarrel  between  the  people  and  their 
king,  and  Charles  mustered  an  army  of  21,000 
men  at  Berwick.  The  Scottish  forces,  numbering 
20,000  men,  were  entrusted  to  Alexander  Leslie, 
who  had  followed  the  profession  of  arms  on  the 
Continent.  Marching  southwards,  he  fixed  his 
quarters  at  Dunse  Law,  twelve  miles  from  Berwick. 
The  First  Bishops'  War  was  a  demonstration  and 
not  a  battle,  and  on  18th  June  1639  commissioners 
arranged  the  Pacification  of  Berwick,  which  secured 
their  demands  for  the  Covenanters. 

By  the  Treaty  an  Assembly  and  a  Parliament 
were  to  meet  ;  and  on  12th  August  the  Assembly 
sanctioned  the  Acts  of  the  Glasgow  Assembly, 
that  they  might  have  undisputed  legal  validity. 
The  members  requested  the  Privy  Council  to  require 
every  one  in  the  nation  to  sign  the  Covenant,  and, 


212 


COVENANTERS 


so  doing,  violated  the  rules  of  toleration.  The 
Earl  of  Traquair,  the  king's  commissioner,  ratified 
the  proceedings  of  the  Assembly,  though  Charles 
indicated  to  Archbishop  Spottiswoode  that  what 
had  been  done  could  be  undone.  Parliament 
approved  the  action  of  the  Assembly  in  overthrow- 
ing Episcopacy ;  and,  in  spite  of  his  action  as 
commissioner  to  the  Assembly,  Traquair  refused 
assent  in  the  king's  name,  and  against  precedent 
dissolved  the  Parliament.  War  was  once  more 
inevitable,  since  the  nation's  demands,  in  spite  of 
the  Treaty  of  Berwick,  had  been  refused.  Charles 
summoned  an  English  Parliament,  known  as  the 
Short  Parliament,  and  dismissed  it  when  supplies 
for  a  war  with  Scotland  were  refused.  He  suc- 
ceeded, however,  in  collecting  a  force  at  York  on 
22nd  August  1640  ;  and  on  the  20th  of  the  same 
month  Leslie  entered  England  with  an  army  of 
20,000,  and  marched  to  Newcastle.  The  Second 
Bishops'  War  was  no  more  romantic  than  the 
First ;  and  commissioners  were  appointed  to  meet 
at  Ripon,  and  to  arrange  terms  of  peace  on  the 
basis  of  the  abolition  of  Episcopacy  and  the  recog- 
nition of  the  Covenant.  The  troubles  in  England 
forced  Charles  again  to  yield  to  the  Scots,  though 
not  till  10th  August  1641  was  an  arrangement  made 
with  the  Long  Parliament,  which  had  taken  the 
business  out  of  the  hands  of  the  king. 

Hoping  to  create  a  party  in  his  favour,  Charles 
in  1641  visited  Scotland,  and  remedied  further 
abuses,  especially  in  the  Privy  Council  and  Court 
of  Session,  which  by  his  own  act  were  filled  with 
his  partisans.  He  expected  to  strengthen  the 
opponents  of  the  Covenant,  already  represented  by 
the  Incendiaries  and  the  Plotters  or  Banders.  The 
Earl  of  Traquair  and  Sir  Robert  Spottiswoode,  the 
archbishop's  son,  were  the  chief  men  among  the 
Incendiaries,  who  had  been  the  advisers  of  Charles 
from  the  time  of  the  Covenant ;  while  the  Plotters 
were  led  by  Montrose,  who  had  passed  to  the  side 
of  the  king,  perhaps  through  jealousy  of  Argyle's 
prominence  among  the  Covenanters.  The  affair 
known  as  '  The  Incident,'  whether  it  was  a  fact  or 
merely  a  story,  told  against  the  king,  and,  when  he 
departed  from  Scotland  in  October,  he  had  neither 
weakened  his  enemies  nor  strengthened  his  own 
party. 

In  August  1642,  Charles  raised  his  standard  at 
Nottingham,  and  the  Civil  War  in  England  was 
begun.  The  king  and  the  Parliament  each  sought 
the  aid  of  the  Scots,  who,  though  themselves 
divided,  were  in  great  numbers  favourable  to  the 
Parliamentary  cause.  The  Parliament  informed 
them  that  an  Assembly  at  Westminster  had  been 
appointed  to  consider  'a  reformation  in  church 
discipline  and  ceremonies ' ;  and  on  2nd  Aug.  1643 
the  General  Assembly,  associated  with  the  Con- 
vention of  the  Scottish  Estates,  put  forward  the 
Solemn  League  and  Covenant,  drafted  by  Alex- 
ander Henderson,  as  the  condition  of  an  alliance. 
The  subscribers  to  the  Covenant  were  to  bind 
themselves  to  preserve  the  Reformed  religion  in 
Scotland,  to  secure  in  England  and  Ireland  a 
reform  in  doctrine,  worship,  discipline,  and  govern- 
ment, according  to  the  Word  of  God  and  the 
example  of  the  best  Reformed  Churches  ;  to  seek 
the  extirpation  of  Popery,  prelacy,  superstition, 
heresy,  and  schism  ;  and  to  defend  the  privileges  of 
the  Parliament,  and  also  the  person  and  authority 
of  the  king.  The  English  Parliament  accepted  the 
Covenant  on  25th  September,  and  in  Jan.  1644, 
Leslie,  who  had  been  created  Earl  of  Leven,  led 
an  army  into  England,  which  helped  to  secure  the 
victory  of  Marston  Moor.  In  his  difficulties, 
Charles  granted  a  commission  to  Montrose,  and, 
after  an  arrangement  with  the  Marquis  of  Antrim, 
sent  him  a  wild  horde  of  Irish  and  Scoto-Celts. 
Victory  after  victory  in  Scotland  was  gained  by 


Montrose,  though  at  the  expense  of  horrible 
cruelties  perpetrated  by  the  savages  of  his  army ; 
and  he  did  not  know  defeat  till  September  1645, 
when  he  met  David  Leslie,  Leven's  nephew,  at 
Philiphaugh.  The  triumph  of  the  Covenanters  was 
secured,  and  was  cruelly  celebrated  in  the  execution 
of  Sir  Robert  Spottiswoode  and  other  Malignants, 
as  the  Royalists  were  called. 

In  England,  the  Parliamentary  party,  after  their 
victory  at  Naseby,  had  no  further  need  of  the 
Scots  ;  and  they,  on  the  other  hand,  being  opposed 
by  the  Independents,  despaired  of  the  success  of 
the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant.  Charles  under- 
stood the  situation,  and  in  May  1646  threw  himself 
into  the  hands  of  the  Scots.  Yet  he  would  not 
accept  their  Covenants,  and  they  would  not  support 
him.  Had  he  agreed  to  their  terms,  they  would 
have  defended  him  ;  but  they  handed  him  over  to 
the  English  Parliament,  on  condition  that  his  life 
should  be  spared,  and  the  money  due  to  them  be  paid. 

One  last  effort  to  save  their  king  was  to  be  made 
by  some  of  the  Scottish  nobles.  The  Earls  of 
Loudon,  Lanark,  and  Lauderdale  visited  him  at 
Carisbrooke  Castle,  and  made  a  compact,  known 
as  '  The  Engagement,'  according  to  which  they  were 
to  find  an  army  for  him,  and  he  was  to  establish 
Presbyterianism  in  England  for  three  years.  In 
the  Scottish  Parliament,  the  nobles,  barons,  and 
commissioners  from  the  large  towns  showed  by 
a  decided  majority  that  they  trusted  the  king, 
though  the  clergy,  on  the  other  hand,  would  not 
believe  that  he  was  sincere.  Hamilton,  however, 
raised  an  army  of  10,000  men,  who  when  they 
reached  England  were  met  by  Cromwell  and 
defeated. 

Charles  was  executed  on  30th  Jan.  1649,  and 
Covenanters  and  Royalists  alike  were  horrified. 
Charles  was  the  victim  of  his  cherished  principle 
of  the  Divine  right  of  kings,  which,  bequeathed  to 
him  by  his  father,  destroyed  the  peace  of  Scotland, 
turning  a  loyal  people  into  rebels  whom  history 
has  justified.  James  was  a  despot  who  knew  the 
value  of  discretion  ;  but  Charles,  with  an  erroneous 
doctrine  of  his  personality  and  an  archaic  theory 
of  his  power,  was  destitute  of  tact,  and  the  Scots 
strenuously  opposed  him  in  the  defence  of  their 
liberties.  Yet,  though  he  was  a  tyrant  in  their 
eyes,  they  would  have  remembered  that  he  was 
their  king  and  would  not  have  taken  his  life. 

Six  days  after  the  execution  at  Whitehall, 
Charles  II.  was  proclaimed  king  by  the  Scottish 
Estates,  though  he  was  to  be  acknowledged  only 
on  condition  that  he  accepted  the  Covenants.  The 
zeal  of  the  Covenanters  was  not  diminishing,  and 
just  before  the  death  of  the  king  they  secured  the 
Act  of  Classes,  which  excluded  from  civil  and  mili- 
tary posts  all  who  were  hostile  to  the  Covenants. 
Montrose  cared  nothing  for  the  Estates,  and  still 
dreamed  that  the  country  might  be  subdued.  He 
failed,  however,  to  gather  the  Royalist  army  of 
his  visions,  and  yet  would  not  cease  from  romantic 
expeditions  and  attacks.  At  last  he  was  taken, 
and  was  beheaded  on  21st  May  1650  at  the  Market 
Cross  of  Edinburgh.  Charles  II.  landed  in  Scotland 
in  June,  and,  according  to  an  agreement  already 
made,  accepted  the  Covenants.  His  presence  was 
a  menace  to  England,  and  on  22nd  July,  Cromwell 
crossed  the  Border.  David  Leslie  was  in  command 
of  the  Scottish  army,  which  in  the  rush  of  events 
was  now  gathered  for  the  defence  of  the  king, 
though  many  of  the  Covenanters,  led  by  John- 
ston of  Warriston  and  James  Guthrie,  minister  of 
Stirling,  did  not  put  their  trust  in  Charles.  In 
their  fanaticism  they  succeeded  in  banishing  all 
Malignants  from  the  army,  and  so  interfered  with 
Leslie  that  Cromwell  secured  a  decisive  victory  at 
Dunbar.  Immediately  after  the  battlethey  prepared 
a  Remonstrance  against  the  government  of  Argyle 


COVENANTERS 


213 


and  his  friends,  and  presented  it  to  the  Committee 
of  Estates,  with  the  declaration  that  they  rejected 
Charles  till  he  proved  '  the  reality  of  his  profession.' 
Argyle  was  forced  to  choose  an  alliance  with  the 
Remonstrants  or  with  the  Malignants,  and  he 
gave  his  support  to  the  friends  of  Charles.  The 
Committee  of  the  Estates  accordingly  passed  a 
Resolution  in  condemnation  of  the  Remonstrance, 
and  the  Estates  abolished  the  Act  of  Classes.  On 
1st  Jan.  1651,  Charles  was  crowned  at  Scone,  and 
Malignants  and  Resolutioners  alike  were  satisfied. 
Cromwell,  however,  was  still  in  the  country,  and 
once  more  David  Leslie  was  placed  in  command 
of  an  army.  In  hope  of  a  rising  in  favour  of 
Charles,  the  Scots  marched  into  England,  but 
Cromwell  followed  and  utterly  defeated  them  at 
Worcester.  Scotland  was  subjected  to  English 
rule ;  and,  though  toleration  was  enforced,  Resolu- 
tioners and  Remonstrants  continued  their  quarrel, 
till  in  1653  the  General  Assembly  was  closed  and 
its  meetings  forbidden.  Enthusiasm  for  the 
Covenants  was  no  longer  national  but  sectarian. 
The  National  Covenant  had  been  the  protest  of  a 
realm  against  the  absolutism  of  the  king,  and  the 
Solemn  League  and  Covenant  had  been  framed  for 
the  reformation  of  religion  by  those  who  believed 
that  the  true  Church  should  be  Presbyterian.  In 
the  events  which  followed  the  National  Covenant, 
Charles  had  been  compelled  to  submit  to  the  Scots, 
and  after  his  death  the  Covenanters,  true  to 
the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant,  became  the 
guardians  of  Presby  terianism.  Fanaticism  divided 
them,  but  the  factions  were  none  the  less  devoted 
to  the  Church  which  James  and  Charles  I.  had 
assailed,  and  to  its  worship  and  government  which 
had  been  saved  from  the  hands  of  the  destroyers. 

Scotland  hailed  the  Restoration  with  joy,  as  the 
English  rule  was  ended  and  the  king  was  to  reign 
who  had  been  crowned  at  Scone.  The  Remon- 
strants or  Protesters  alone,  in  their  anxiety  for  the 
Church,  did  not  share  in  the  joy,  and  soon  it  was 
seen  that  they  were  not  foolish  in  their  alarm. 
Charles  nominated  a  Privy  Council,  without  wait- 
ing for  a  Parliament  to  advise  in  the  selection ; 
and,  while  the  members  of  the  Council  were  with 
him  in  London,  he  entrusted  the  government  to 
the  Committee  of  the  Estates,  which  had  not  acted 
after  1651.  Remembering  injuries  and  destitute 
of  gratitude,  he  committed  Argyle  to  the  Tower, 
and  then  sent  him  to  Scotland  for  trial,  and  at  the 
same  time  issued  an  order  for  the  seizure  of  Johnston 
of  Warriston,  who,  however,  escaped  to  France. 
The  Committee  of  Estates,  recognizing  the  atti- 
tude of  the  king  to  the  Covenanters,  broke  up 
a  meeting  of  Protesters,  and  seized  among  others 
James  Guthrie,  the  minister  of  Stirling.  In  their 
eagerness  to  please  they  issued  a  proclamation 
against  '  all  unlawful  and  unwarrantable  meetings 
and  conventicles ' ;  and,  in  decreeing  that  there 
should  be  no  meetings  '.without  his  Majesty's 
special  authority,'  showed  how  the  men  in  the 
king's  service  no  longer  opposed  the  absolutism  and 
supremacy  which  had  been  fatal  to  his  father.  It 
seemed  at  first  that  Charles,  though  ruthless 
towards  the  Remonstrants,  would  uphold  the 
Church  for  the  sake  of  the  Resolutioners ;  and 
James  Sharp,  minister  of  Crail  and  professor  in  St. 
Andrews,  whom  the  Resolutioners  had  sent  to 
London,  returned  on  the  last  day  of  August  with 
a  communication  to  the  Presbytery  of  Edinburgh. 
'  We  do  resolve,'  Charles  wrote,  '  to  protect  and 
preserve  the  government  of  the  Church  of  Scotland 
as  it  is  settled  by  law ' ;  but,  while  he  referred  to 
the  government  as  it  existed,  he  soon  afterwards 
put  a  strange  interpretation  on  his  words.  On  1st 
Jan.  1661,  a  Parliament  with  carefully  selected 
members  met,  and  in  its  sessions  passed  a  multitude 
if  Acts.     Tn   an  oatli  of  allegiance,  Charles  was 


declared  '  supreme  Governor  of  this  kingdom  over 
all  persons  and  in  all  causes ';  and  a  Rescissory  Act, 
which  revoked  the  legislation  of  every  Parliament 
after  1633,  destroyed  what  the  nation  had  built  up 
in  the  struggle  against  royal  absolutism.  The 
Church  '  settled  by  law,'  to  which  Charles  referred 
in  his  letter  to  the  Edinburgh  Presbytery,  was  no 
longer  Presbyterian,  and  in  a  communication  to  the 
Privy  Council  he  wrote :  '  We  have,  after  mature 
deliberation,  declared  to  those  of  your  Council  here 
our  firm  resolution  to  interpose  our  royal  authority 
for  restoring  of  that  Church  to  its  right  govern- 
ment by  bishops,  as  it  was  by  law  before  the  late 
troubles,  during  the  reigns  of  our  royal  father  and 
grandfather  of  blessed  memory,  and  as  it  now 
stands  settled  by  law.'  The  Church  was  Episcopal, 
but  only  one  of  the  bishops  was  alive ;  and  four 
men,  of  whom  were  James  Sharp  and  Robert 
Leighton,  set  out  for  London  to  receive  episcopal 
consecration. 

The  second  session  of  the  '  Drunken  Parliament,' 
as  it  was  called,  began  on  8th  May  1662,  and,  after 
an  Act  for  '  the  restitution  and  re-establishment 
of  the  ancient  government  of  the  Church  by  arch- 
bishops and  bishops,'  the  prelates  were  admitted  to 
the  dignity  of  an  Estate.  Thereafter  the  Covenants 
were  declared  to  be  treasonable,  and  holders  of 
offices  of  trust  were  required  to  abjure  them. 
Another  Act  was  tragic  in  its  consequences. 
Patronage  had  been  abolished  in  1649,  and  the 
election  of  ministers  had  been  entrusted  to  the 
kirk-sessions.  The  Parliament  now  decreed  that 
every  minister  who  had  been  ordained  after  1649 
should  receive  a  presentation  from  the  patron,  and 
institution  from  the  bishop.  In  the  west  and 
south  nearly  three  hundred  men  refused  to  comply  ; 
and  churches  were  closed  till  '  curates '  were  found 
for  them.  In  the  third  session  of  the  Parliament 
the  Earl  of  Rothes  took  the  place  of  the  Earl  of 
Middleton  as  the  king's  representative,  though  the 
Earl  of  Lauderdale  was  the  real  director  of  the 
business.  Ecclesiastical  affairs  were  in  hopeless 
disorder.  The  churches  from  which  the  ministers 
had  been  excluded  were  almost  empty,  and  the 
people  flocked  to  private  houses  in  which  these 
men  preached.  The  Parliament  sought  a  remedy 
in  an  Act  which  required  the  '  outed '  ministers  to 
abstain  from  preaching,  and  the  people  to  attend 
the  churches.  Fines  were  to  be  imposed  on  those 
who  would  not  obey,  and  the  Privy  Council  were 
to  receive  reports  from  the  curates  regarding 
offenders.  Before  the  close  of  the  Parliament, 
Johnston  of  Warriston,  who  had  been  apprehended 
in  France,  was  sent  to  execution.  Argyle  and 
James  Guthrie,  and  also  a  man  named  Govan,  had 
been  condemned ;  and  Warriston  followed  them  to 
the  scaffold  and  to  martyrdom  for  the  Covenants. 
The  victims  of  the  king's  wrath  were  few,  and 
Argyle  and  Guthrie,  conspicuous  champions  of 
the  people's  rights,  might  have  satisfied  his 
vengeance ;  but  Warriston  was  pursued  till  his 
death  was  accomplished.  Samuel  Rutherfurd,  the 
Principal  of  St.  Mary's  College,  St.  Andrews,  was 
summoned  to  appear  at  Edinburgh,  and  died  before 
he  could  answer.  In  his  Lex  Bex  he  had  set  forth 
the  democratic  principles  which  George  Buchanan 
taught  in  the  De  Jure  ;  and,  when  he  could  not  be 
brought  to  sentence,  his  book  was  publicly  burned 
by  order  of  the  Government. 

Without  consent  of  the  Church,  Charles  II. 
changed  its  constitution,  and  the  men  who  would 
not  obey  his  orders  were  driven  from  their  livings. 
James  VI.  had  forced  or  corrupted  Assemblies  and 
Parliaments  to  be  bis  agents,  while  Charles  I.  had 
imposed  the  Canons  and  Liturgy  with  neither 
Assembly  nor  Parliament.  It  is  true  that  Charles 
II.  acted  through  a  Parliament  and  through  his 
Privy  Council,  but  the  Parliament  was  not  freely 


214 


COVENANTERS 


elected,  and  the  Church  itself  was  not  consulted. 
The  300  evicted  ministers  could  urge  the  Presby- 
terian claim  of  free  assembly.  Their  theory  of  the 
Divine  origin  of  the  Presbyterian  polity  might  be 
denied,  but  they  could  point  to  Knox  and  Melvill 
as  the  upholders  of  the  Church's  freedom,  and  to 
the  struggles  and  successes  of  the  first  Covenanters. 
Many  of  the  ministers  quietly  accepted  the  Epis- 
copacy ordained  by  the  'Drunken  Parliament,'  but 
the  men  who  were  ejected,  and  not  the  men  who 
conformed,  were  obedient  to  the  Presbyterian 
tradition,  and  as  heirs  of  the  Covenanters  were 
entitled  to  their  name.  Opponents  of  the  royal 
absolutism  and  advocates  of  ecclesiastical  freedom, 
the  second  race  of  the  Covenanters  were  destined 
to  bear  testimony  through  suffering  to  their 
devotion  to  the  lost  liberties  of  their  Church. 

Fines  were  imposed  by  the  Privy  Council  on 
those  who  neglected  the  ministrationsof  the  curates, 
and  soldiers  were  quartered  on  offenders  till  these 
were  paid.  At  Archbishop  Sharp's  suggestion  the 
Court  of  High  Commission  was  re-instituted  to 
deal  with  breakers  of  the  law,  and  the  troubles 
increased  when  Covenanters,  to  whom  an  Act  of 
Indemnity  had  not  extended,  were  ordered  by  the 
Court  to  pay  their  fines.  In  the  disaffected  districts 
the  people  were  galled  by  the  tyranny  of  the  Council 
in  imposing  fines,  quartering  soldiers,  and  breaking 
up  conventicles  {q.v.)  for  worship.  Passive  obedi- 
ence was  not  a  favourite  custom  of  the  Scots,  and 
a  rising  of  the  oppressed  was  to  be  expected.  Sir 
James  Turner,  the  most  zealous  of  the  soldiers  of 
the  Government,  was  in  Dumfries,  and  on  15th 
Nov.  1666  was  attacked  and  taken  prisoner  by  a 
company  of  men  from  Galloway,  who  had  been 
stirred  by  a  shameful  tale  of  cruelty.  From 
Dumfries  they  marched,  3000  in  number  but 
untrained,  across  the  country  to  Lanark,  where 
they  renewed  their  adherence  to  the  Covenant. 
Intending  to  pass  to  Edinburgh,  they  turned  on 
their  way  to  the  city,  as  Sir  Thomas  Dalziel,  a 
fanatic  Royalist  who  had  served  in  Muscovy,  was 
on  their  track,  and  they  reached  Rullion  Green, 
on  the  southern  slopes  of  the  Pentlands.  Dalziel 
with  his  disciplined  force  routed  them.  Some  were 
killed,  many  fled,  and  at  least  fifty  were  taken. 
Two  of  the  leaders,  John  Neilson  of  Corsack  and 
Hugh  M'Kail,  who  was  a  preacher,  were  tortured 
with  the  boot  in  presence  of  the  Council,  that  they 
might  reveal  a  supposed  league  with  the  Dutch, 
and  were  afterwards  sent  to  the  scaffold.  Ten 
men,  and  then  five,  were  hanged  in  Edinburgh, 
and  the  work  of  execution  was  continued  in  Glasgow 
and  Ayr.  Many  of  those  who  had  been  engaged 
in  the  rising  were  fined  and  their  lands  and  goods 
confiscated.  To  Dalziel  was  given  the  task  of 
quieting  the  disturbed  places,  and  with  his  ruth- 
less severities  he  terrorized  the  people.  In  1667, 
however,  a  respite  was  offered  when  Lauderdale, 
who  had  overthrown  Rothes  and  Sharp  in  the 
Council,  intimated  an  indemnity,  under  conditions, 
for  the  Pentland  rising.  While  many  accepted 
the  terms,  the  sternest  of  the  Presbyterians 
refused  obedience  to  a  Government  which  required 
conformity  to  an  Episcopal  Church  and  ignored  the 
Covenant. 

After  the  indemnity  no  further  step  towards 
conciliation  was  taken  till  1669,  when  an  Indulgence 
was  offered.  It  was  ordained  that  vacant  parishes 
might  be  given  to  ministers  who  were  willing  to 
accept  collation  from  the  bishops  ;  and  those  who 
would  not  take  collation  might  have  the  manse 
and  glebe,  without  the  stipend,  if  they  agreed, 
among  other  conditions,  to  administer  the  sacra- 
ments to  their  parishioners  alone.  Forty-two 
ministers,  professing  their  adherence  to  Presby- 
terianism,  were  admitted  ;  but  the  most  zealous  of 
the    Covenanters    inveighed    against    them,    and 


extreme  Episcopalians  objected  to  the  Indulgence 
as  an  Act  of  Erastianism.  Lauderdale,  though 
responsible  for  the  Indulgence  with  any  clemency 
involved  in  it,  was  an  avowed  supporter  of  the 
royal  absolutism ;  and  under  him  the  Parliament 
of  1669  declared  in  the  Assertory  Act  '  that  his 
Majesty  hath  the  supreme  authority  and  supremacy 
over  all  persons,  and  in  all  causes  ecclesiastical 
within  this  kingdom  ;  and  that,  by  virtue  thereof, 
the  ordering  and  disposal  of  the  external  govern- 
ment and  policy  of  the  Church  doth  properly 
belong  to  his  Majesty  and  his  successors,  as  an 
inherent  right  of  the  crown.' 

Burnet,  the  Archbishop  of  Glasgow,  was  deposed 
for  his  opposition  to  the  king's  authority  in  the  issue 
of  the  Indul  gence,  and  Leighton,  who  succeeded  him, 
proposed  an  'accommodation'  for  peace  between 
Presbyterians  and  Episcopalians.  The  scheme  was 
futile,  as  compromise  pleased  no  one,  and  Leighton, 
resigning  the  archbishopric,  departed  to  England. 
The  Indulgence  did  not  remove  the  opposition  of 
the  Covenanters,  and  they  flocked  to  the  con- 
venticles, carrying  arms  for  safety  in  attack.  The 
Government,  on  the  other  hand,  showed  no  leniency. 
In  1670  an  Act  was  passed  which  required  any 
one  on  oath  to  give  information  regarding  conven- 
ticles and  the  men  who  attended  them.;  and  an- 
other Act  made  death  and  confiscation  of  goods  the 
penalty  for  preaching  at  conventicles.  Not  content 
with  these  severities,  the  Parliament  decreed  that 
punishment,  even  to  exile,  should  be  inflicted  on 
those  who  had  their  children  baptized  by  the 
non-conforming  ministers,  and  also  on  those  who 
for  three  successive  Sundays  absented  themselves 
from  the  parish  church.  The  conventicles^  in  spite 
of  the  Government,  did  not  cease,  and  the  Bass 
Rock  was  turned  into  a  prison.  In  1672  the 
Parliament  declared  the  ordination  of  ministers  by 
the  Covenanters  a  crime,  and  decreed  that  parents 
should  be  punished  who  left  their  children  unbap- 
tized  by  the  curates  for  more  than  thirty  days. 
For  some  reason  a  second  Indulgence  was  published. 
It  was  offered  to  eighty  of  the  clergy,  and  some  of 
them  accepted  it,  but  the  Covenanters  were  not 
quieted.  The  Government  in  their  straits  decreed 
that  magistrates  for  the  burghs  and  landowners 
in  respect  of  their  estates  were  to  be  made  re- 
sponsible for  conventicles,  and  householders  were 
to  answer  for  their  families  and  servants.  Another 
step  was  taken  in  1675,  when  letters  of  inter- 
communing  were  issued  against  100  persons, 
including  men  and  women  of  social  position,  who 
were  not  to  be  harboured  or  fed  or  clothed  by  any 
one.  Though  landowners  in  1674  had  been  made 
responsible  for  their  tenants  and  servants,  they 
were  required  in  1677  to  take  a  bond  for  all  persons 
on  their  lands.  Many  of  these  men  in  the  disturbed 
counties,  though  friendly  to  the  Government, 
would  not  sign  such  a  bond ;   and  in   February 

1678  a  host  of  6000  Highlanders  with  3000  Low- 
landers  was  sent  to  Ayrshire  and  let  loose  for 
plunder.  The  Duke  of  Hamilton  and  also  the 
Earls  of  Atholl  and  Perth  appeared  with  expostula- 
tions before  the  king,  and,  though  Charles  approved 
Lauderdale's  actions,  the  Highlanders  were  with- 
drawn. The  disorder  increased,  however,  in  spite 
of  indulgences  and  coercive  Acts ;  and  the  year 

1679  witnessed  among  other  tragedies  the  murder 
of  Archbishop  Sharp.  From  the  day  of  his 
acceptance  of  the  archbishopric  there  were  few 
who  even  respected  him,  and  the  Covenanters 
hated  him  as  their  fiercest  oppressor.  Travelling 
to  St.  Andrews  he  was  murdered  at  Magus  Muir, 
three  miles  from  the  city,  by  a  band  of  men  who 
had  been  outlawed  for  attending  conventicles. 
These  men  were  not  taken,  though  a  proclamation 
was  issued  for  their  arrest;  and  another  tragic 
event  was  to  increase  the  troubles.     On  27th  May 


COVENANTERS 


215 


— the  anniversary  of  the  Restoration — a  company 
of  eighty  men  gathered  in  Rutherglen,  and,  after 
extinguishing  the  bonfires,  affixed  to  the  market- 
cross  a  paper  denouncing  the  Acts  of  Parliament 
against  Presbyterianism.  The  same  company, 
increased  in  numbers,  held  a  conventicle  on  the 
Sunday  which  followed ;  and  Graham  of  Claver house 
with  a  troop  of  soldiers  was  sent  to  disperse  it  and 
to  seize  the  men  who  had  appeared  at  Rutherglen. 
At  Drumclog,  two  miles  from  Loudon  Hill,  where 
the  conventicle  had  assembled,  an  engagement 
took  place,  and  Claverhouse  was  defeated.  The 
victors  determined  to  form  a  camp,  and  many 
flocked  to  it.  The  Government,  on  the  other  hand, 
made  ready  an  army,  and  the  king  sent  the  Duke 
of  Monmouth  to  command  it.  The  battle  of  Both- 
well  Bridge  was  fought  on  22nd  Junewith  disastrous 
results  to  the  Covenanters.  They  had  enthusiasm  ; 
but,  divided  over  the  Indulgences,  they  quarrelled 
when  they  should  have  been  drilling  themselves 
for  action,  and  there  was  no  capable  and  trusted 
leader.  While  the  number  of  the  dead  was  not 
great,  more  than  1000  prisoners  were  taken  and 
conveyed  to  Edinburgh.  For  months  many  of  the 
wretcned  men  were  confined  in  the  Greyfriars 
churchyard.  Two  of  the  ministers  were  hanged, 
and  five  men,  who  had  not  been  involved  in  the 
death  of  the  Archbishop,  were  sent  for  execution 
to  Magus  Muir,  that  the  murder  might  be  avenged. 
Many  were  allowed  to  leave  their  prison,  after 
taking  a  bond  not  again  to  bear  arms  ;  and  others, 
to  the  number  of  250,  were  packed  into  a  ship 
sailing  to  Barbados,  that  they  might  be  sold  into 
slavery.  The  ship,  however,  was  wrecked  on  one 
of  the  Orkney  Islands,  and  200  of  the  unfortunate 
men,  who  were  kept  under  the  hatches,  were 
drowned. 

Thanks  to  Monmouth,  an  Act  of  Indemnity  was 
passed  for  those  who  had  been  at  Bothwell  Bridge, 
and  a  third  Indulgence  for  ministers  was  published. 
Conditions,  however,  were  attached,  and  there 
were  few  who  did  not  reject  them.  Clemency  was 
accordingly  thrown  aside,  and  diligent  search  was 
made  for  those  who  had  been  at  Bothwell.  The 
thumbkins  and  lighted  matches  to  the  fingerB  were 
used  by  the  savage  soldiers  of  the  Government  to 
force  unwilling  informers  to  reveal  their  secrets. 
Oppression  again  had  its  natural  consequences,  and 
wild  men  were  made  wilder.  The  Presbyterians 
who  still  remained  staunch  to  the  Covenants 
separated  from  communion  with  those  who  had 
accepted  the  Indulgences,  and  deliberately  threw 
off  allegiance  to  the  king.  Two  ministers,  Richard 
Cameron  and  Donald  Cargill,  were  the  leaders,  and 
they  and  their  followers  called  themselves  '  Society 
People,'  and  were  known  as  Cameronians, 
Wanderers,  Hillmen,  or  Whigs.  On  22nd  June 
1680,  Cameron  and  Cargill  with  some  of  their  men, 
twenty -one  in  all,  entered  Sanquhar  and  affixed  to 
the  market-cross  a  declaration  that  they  disowned 
Charles  Stuart  as  king  for  'his  perjury  and 
breach  of  covenant  to  God  and  His  Kirk.'  These 
men  did  at  Sanquhar,  in  the  time  of  Charles 
Stuart,  what  England  and  Scotland  afterwards 
did  when  James  Stuart  was  king.  Cameron 
and  Cargill  were  marked  by  the  Government,  and 
at  Aird's  Moss,  on  20th  July,  Cameron  was  killed, 
when  he  and  Hackston  of  Rathillet,  with  some 
of  the  Hillmen,  were  attacked  by  a  company  of 
dragoons.  Hackston  was  executed  at  Edinburgh 
with  a  display  of  abominable  cruelty,  and  Cargill, 
who  was  not  at  Aird's  Moss,  became  the  leader  of  the 
Covenanters.  He  appeared  in  October  at  Torwood, 
and  in  a  great  assemblage  excommunicated  the 
king,  the  Duke  of  York,  the  Duke  of  Lauderdale, 
and  others  ;  and,  though  the  sentence  was  futile 
and  the  action  altogether  fanatical,  the  devotion 
to  a  cause  consecrated   in   the  tradition   of   the 


country  made  Cargill  a  hero  in  the  eyes  of  the 
persecuted  Whigs.  He,  too,  was  to  die  for  the 
Covenant,  and  in  1681  was  executed  in  Edinburgh. 

In  1681  the  Duke  of  York  appeared  in  Scotland, 
and,  in  place  of  Lauderdale,  acted  as  Royal 
Commissioner.  After  the  Act  for  securing  the 
Protestant  religion,  the  Parliament,  at  his  direction 
and  to  suit  his  purposes  as  a  Catholic,  passed  an 
Act  which  declared  that  the  kings  of  the  realm 
derived  their  power  from  God,  succeeding  to  it  by 
lineal  descent,  and  that  the  succession  could  not 
be  changed.  This  declaration,  in  favour  of  the 
Divine  right  of  the  king,  was  followed  by  the  Test 
Act,  which  required  every  holder  of  office  to  swear 
that  he  owned  the  Protestant  religion  as  set  forth 
in  the  Confession  of  1567,  acknowledged  the 
supremacy  of  the  king  in  all  causes,  would  not 
consult  about  any  State  matter  without  royal 
licence  or  command,  and  would  never  endeavour  to 
alter  anything  in  the  Government  of  the  country. 
Never  before  had  the  Scottish  Parliament  displayed 
such  abject  subservience.  Eighty  of  the  ministers 
refused  to  take  the  test,  and  left  their  parishes ; 
and  in  January  1682,  fifty  of  the  Covenanters 
published  at  Lanark  a  fresh  declaration,  and 
burned  the  Succession  and  Test  Acts.  The  '  Society 
People'  were  counted  rebels,  as  they  were,  and 
were  treated  with  savage  cruelty ;  Dalziel  and 
Claverhouse,  merciless  leaders  of  the  rudest  soldiers, 
earned  infamous  reputations ;  and,  when  the 
troubles  were  at  an  end,  men  continued  to  talk  of 
the  '  Bloody  Clavers,'  while  they  spoke,  too,  of 
the  '  Bloody  Mackenzie,'  the  Lord  Advocate,  who 
was  pitiless  in  his  prosecutions.  Their  victims 
were  fined  or  sent  to  slavery,  and  some  were  shot 
and  some  were  hanged.  In  November  1684  the 
'Society  People'  published  their  'Apologetical 
Declaration,'  drawn  up  by  James  Renwick,  a 
young  minister,  which  contained  a  warning  to 
their  persecutors  that  they  counted  them,  and 
would  punish  them,  as  the  enemies  of  God  and  His 
covenanted  work ;  and  they  did  not  shrink  from 
killing  their  foes.  An  oath  of  abjuration  of  the 
Apologetical  Declaration  was  at  once  prepared  by 
the  Government,  and  he  who  did  not  take  it  might 
be  shot  without  pretence  of  trial.  John  Brown  of 
Priesthill,  in  whose  house  were  found  bullets  and 
treasonable  papers,  refused  to  take  the  oath. 
'Whereupon,' wrote  Claverhouse,  'I  caused  shoot 
him  dead,  which  he  suffered  very  unconcernedly.' 
A  few  days  later,  though  Claverhouse  was  not  the 
perpetrator  of  the  deed,  an  old  woman  and  a  girl 
were  drowned  at  Wigton,  as  they  would  not  abjure 
the  Apologetical  Declaration. 

James  II.  ascended  the  throne  in  16S5,  and  the 
Estates  expressed  their  gratitude  for  the  blessings 
which  they  owed  '  to  the  sacred  race  of  their  most 
glorious  kings,  and  to  the  solid,  absolute  authority 
wherewith  they  were  invested  by  the  first  and 
fundamental  laws  of  the  monarchy.'  Acts  were 
passed  against  the  Covenanters,  and  in  one  it  was 
declared  that  any  person  who  preached  at  or 
attended  a  conventicle  was  to  be  punished  with 
death  and  confiscation  of  goods.  The  accession  of 
James  marked  no  change  of  policy  in  the  treatment 
of  the  Covenanters,  and  the  first  year  was  known 
as  '  the  black  year,  the  killing  time.'  Argyle,  in 
the  plot  with  Monmouth  for  the  removal  of 
James  from  the  throne,  landed  in  Scotland  in  1685  ; 
but  he  received  no  help  from  the  Covenanters, 
whose  cause,  at  an  earlier  time,  he  had  forsaken 
The  plot  ended  in  failure,  and  Argyle  was  taken 
and  carried  to  Edinburgh,  where  he  was  beheaded. 
Before  he  arrived  in  the  city,  the  Government 
resolved  to  make  sure  that  their  prisoners,  who 
might  be  in  sympathy  with  him,  were  securely 
warded.  About  200  of  the  Covenanters  were 
accordingly  removed  to  Dunnottar  Castle.     Men 


216 


COVENANT  THEOLOGY 


and  women  were  thrown  together  into  a  vault, 
with  but  one  window  for  air,  and  the  space  hardly 
gave  them  room  to  sit  down.  Days  passed  before 
any  of  them  were  removed,  and  then  forty  men 
were  sent  to  another  vault,  where  a  break  in  the 
wall  gave  the  only  current  of  air.  After  two 
months  those  who  were  alive  were  taken  to  Leith  ; 
and,  while  a  few  promised  allegiance,  the  majority 
were  sent  as  slaves  to  the  Plantations. 

James  was  a  Roman  Catholic,  and,  whatever 
his  schemes  were  for  the  return  to  Rome  of  the 
nations  over  which  he  was  king,  he  determined  to 
repeal  the  penal  laws  against  the  Roman  Catholics, 
The  Scottish  Parliament,  which  again  and  again 
had  admitted  the  royal  absolutism,  would  not 
consent  to  more  than  a  serious  consideration  of  his 
communication  regarding  the  repeal,  and  was 
dissolved.  Thereafter  the  Privy  Council  received 
an  intimation  from  him  that  his  prerogative 
enabled  him  to  dispense  with  all  laws,  and  he 
charged  the  Council  to  rescind  the  penal  laws. 
Even  the  most  subservient  Government  could  not 
ignore  the  fact  that  Scotland  dreaded  a  return 
of  Popery.  James  accordingly  extended  to  the 
Presbyterians  the  toleration  he  desired  for  the 
Catholics,  and  they  were  allowed  to  meet  in  private 
houses  or  chapels,  if  no  disloyal  doctrines  were 
preached.  The  '  Society  People,'  however,  were 
excluded  from  the  new  Indulgences,  as  they  had 
thrown  off  allegiance  to  the  king,  and  they  con- 
tinued in  their  opposition  and  frequented  their 
conventicles.  Their  leader  was  James  Renwick, 
and  in  February  1688,  having  refused  to  acknow- 
ledge the  Government,  he  was  put  to  death,  the 
last  martyr  for  the  Covenants.  The  year  which 
witnessed  the  execution  of  the  Covenanter  in 
Edinburgh  witnessed  also  the  arrival  in  London  of 
William  of  Orange  and  the  flight  of  James. 

In  the  period  between  the  imposition  of  the 
Liturgy  and  the  death  of  Charles  I.,  and,  again,  in 
the  period  between  the  Restoration  and  the 
Revolution,  the  Covenanters  were  the  guardians  of 
freedom.  After  the  Restoration  the  nobles  and 
barons,  as  if  there  had  been  no  Covenants,  admitted 
with  extraordinary  servility  the  despotism  of 
the  kings ;  and  even  the  Covenanters  themselves 
were  not  united,  since  those  who  profited  by  the 
Indulgences  submitted  to  the  king,  who  was  an 
ecclesiastical  autocrat.  The  '  Society  People '  alone 
were  faithful  to  the  Covenants. 

Recognizing  Presbyterianism  as  Divinely  in- 
stituted, and  declaring,  therefore,  the  rights  of 
their  Church  to  be  those  of  the  Redeemer,  they 
fought  for  Christ  and  the  Covenant ;  and  at  last 
threw  off  allegiance  to  the  king  as  the  enemy  of 
their  Lord.  In  Scotland  throughout  the  17th  cent, 
the  royal  absolutism  was  displayed  almost  entirely 
in  affairs  of  the  Church,  and  there  was  no  clear 
issue,  without  appeals  to  religion,  between  despot- 
ism and  liberty.  Yet  in  the  sphere  of  the  Church, 
where  tyranny  pressed,  and  where  a  contest  alone 
was  possible,  the  Covenanters  asserted  the  rights 
of  the  people. 

Literature.— D.  Calderwood,  Hist,  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland 
(1514-1625),  Wodrow  Soc,  Edin.  1842-1849  ;  The  Workesof  King 
James,  London,  1616 ;  J.  MelviU,  Diary  (1556-1601),  Banna- 
tyne  Club,  Edin.  1829  ;  J.  Row,  Hist,  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland 
(1568-1637),  Wodrow  Soc,  Edin.  1842  ;  A.  Peterkin,  Records  of 
the  Kirk  of  Scotland  (from  1638),  Edin.  1838;  Earl  of  Rothes, 
Relation  of  Proceedings  concerning  tlie  Affairs  of  the  Kirk  of 
Scotland  (1637  to  July  1638),  Ban.  Club,  Edin.  1830  ;  J.  Gordon, 
Hist,  of  Scots  Affairs  (1.637 -1641),  Spalding  Club,  Aberdeen,  1841; 
H.  Guthry,  Memoirs  (1637-1649)2,  Glasgow,  1747  ;  G.  Wishart, 
Memoirs  of  James  Marquis  of  Montrose  (1639-1650),  Lond.  1893; 
J.  Nicoll,  Diary  (1660-1667),  Ban.  Club,  Edin.  1836  ;  J.  Lamont, 
Diary  (1649-1672),  Maitland  Club,  Edin.  1830 ;  Sir  J.  Turner, 
Memoirs  of  His  Own  Life  and  Times  (1632-1670),  Ban.  Club, 
Edin.  1829;  J.  Kirkton,  The  Secret  and  True  Hist,  of  the 
Church  of  Scotland,  Edin.  1817  ;  R.  Wodrow,  The  Hist,  of  the 
Sufferings  of  the  Church  of  Scotland  from  the  Restoration  to  the 
Revolution,  Glasgow,  1828-1830 ;  Lauderdale  Papers  (1639-1679), 
Camden  Society,  Lond.  1884-1885  ;  Sir  G.  Mackenzie,  Memoirs 


of  the  Affairs  of  Scotland  from  the  Restoration  of  Charles  II. 
(1660-1677),  Edin.  1818  ;  Sir  J.  Lauder  of  Fountainhall,  Histori- 
cal Observes  of  Memorable  Occurrents  in  Church  and  State 
(1680-1686),  Ban.  Club,  Edin.  1840.         JOHN  HEEKLESS. 

COVENANT  THEOLOGY.— i.  Preliminary 
definition. — By  this  term  is  designated  a  type  of 
theological  thought  which  expresses  the  relations 
between  God  and  man  in  the  formula  of  a  covenant 
or  legal  agreement,  formally  entered  into  by  two 
contracting  parties.  It  was  specially  common 
among  the  English  Puritans,  from  whom  it  passed 
to  their  descendants  in  America.  On  the  Continent 
it  is  first  found  among  the  German  Reformed 
theologians  in  the  second  half  of  the  16th  century. 
Its  best  known  Continental  representative  is 
Cocceius  (John  Koch,  1603-69),  who  is  often 
wrongly  said  to  be  its  author.1  Through  him  and 
his  successors  (Burmann,  Witsius,  and  others)  it 
received  its  most  elaborate  literary  expression,  and 
ever  since  has  constituted  one  of  the  recognized 
types  of  Calvinistic  or  Reformed  theology.  It  is 
the  purpose  of  this  article  to  explain  the  nature  of 
this  type,  and  to  give  some  account  of  its  origin 
and  history. 

2.  Nature  of  the  covenant  theology. — (1)  The 
covenant  idea  and  the  covenant  theology  distin- 
guished.— At  the  outset  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish 
between  the  covenant  idea  and  the  covenant 
theology.  The  covenant  idea  is  common  Christian 
property.  It  is  an  inheritance  of  Christianity  from 
the  OT,  which  frequently  describes  the  relation 
between  Jahweh  and  His  people  in  terms  of  a 
covenant,  entered  into  either  with  individual 
Israelites  (e.g.,  Noah,  Abraham,  Phinehas;  David), 
or  with  the  nation  as  a  whole.  The  covenant 
theology  describes  a  special  type  of  Christian 
thought  which  gives  this  idea  a  central  importance 
not  elsewhere  assigned  to  it,  and  uses  it  as  the 
organizing  principle  of  the  entire  theological 
system.  According  to  this  scheme,  God  at  the 
Creation  entered  into  an  agreement  with  Adam  as 
the  federal  head  of  the  race,  promising  to  him  and 
to  his  descendants  eternal  life  on  condition  of  his 
obedience  to  the  Divine  command  that  he  should 
not  eat  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  the  knowledge  of 
good  and  evil,  and  threatening  him  with  eternal 
death  for  himself  and  his  descendants  in  case  of 
his  disobedience.  Adam  having  failed  to  stand 
the  test,  God  entered  into  a  second  agreement  with 
Christ  as  the  second  Adam,  on  behalf  of  the  elect, 
promising  them  forgiveness  and  eternal  life  in 
consideration  of  Christ's  perfect  obedience  and 
satisfaction  imputed  to  them  by  faith,  as  well  as 
all  the  gifts  and  graces  which  are  necessary  to  the 
realization  of  this  supreme  blessing  in  experience. 
The  covenant  theology  in  its  developed  form  is  a 
scheme  of  doctrine  in  which  the  entire  system  of 
divinity  is  expressed  in  the  terms  of  these  two 
covenants,  and  man's  assurance  of  salvation  based 
upon  the  fact  that  he  is  included  within  the  latter. 
In  order  to  understand  its  origin  and  significance, 
it  is  necessary  to  consider  the  problem  which  it 
was  designed  to  solve. 

(2)  The  covenant  as  a  ground  of  assurance. — This 
problem  was,  in  a  word,  the  reconciliation  of  the 
sovereignty  of  God  with  man's  assurance  of  salva- 
tion. The  federal  theologians,  as  they  are  called, 
were  Calvinists.  Their  major  premiss  was  the 
absolute  sovereignty  of  God.  Man,  in  their  view, 
had  no  independent  right  as  against  his  Maker. 
Unquestioning  submission  to  the  Divine  command 
was  his  duty.  Perfect  obedience,  were  such  possible, 
carried  with  it  no  merit,  and  could  guarantee  no 
reward.  If,  then,  man  was  to  be  admitted  to  the 
Divine  fellowship  or  assured  of  the  Divine  favour, 
it  could  be  only  by  some  voluntary  condescension 
on  God's  part,  establishing  by  arbitrary  enactment 

1  So  by  Strong  (Systematic  Theologyl,  Philad.  1907,  p.  612  f.). 


COVENANT  THEOLOGY 


217 


relations  which  had  no  necessary  foundation  in 
nature.  The  importance  of  the  covenant  for  these 
theologians  consisted  in  its  assurance  that  such 
condescension  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  taken  place. 
By  the  covenant  God  not  only  bound  Himself  to  a 
certain  definite  line  of  conduct,  so  far  as  man  was 
concerned,  and  in  so  far  restricted  the  freedom 
of  His  own  choice,1  but  He  made  known  in 
detail  to  His  creature  the  nature  and  conditions 
of  His  gracious  purpose,  and  so  removed  the  un- 
certainty to  which  he  would  otherwise  have  been 
exposed. 

'God,'  says  Thomas  Shephard,  in  his  preface  to  Bulkeley's 
Gospel  Covenant,2  '  might  have  done  good  to  man  before  his  fall, 
as  also  since  his  fall,  without  binding  himselfe  in  the  bond  of 
Covenant  .  .  .  but  the  Lord's  heart  is  so  full  of  love  (especially 
to  his  owne)  that  it  cannot  be  contained  so  long  within  the 
bounds  of  secrecie,  .  .  .  but  it  must  beforehand  overflow  and 
breake  out  into  the  many  streames  of  a  blessed  Covenant.' 

Arminian  theologians  also  made  use  of  the 
covenant  idea.3  But  for  them  it  had  less  im- 
portance, because  their  view  of  the  relation  between 
man  and  his  Maker  was  founded  on  natural  right. 
Thus,  Arminius,  while  recognizing  that  God  dealt 
with  our  first  parents  by  way  of  covenant,  distin- 
guished between  the  law  of  nature,  which  God 
wrote  on  the  heart  of  man,  and  the  symbolical 
law,  or  law  of  precept,  which  deals  with  matters 
in  themselves  indifferent  apart  from  the  Divine 
command.  While  it  is  man's  duty  to  obey  in  either 
case,  the  latter  obedience  is  '  far  inferior,'  and  '  is 
not  so  much  obedience  itself  as  the  external 
profession  of  willingly  yielding  obedience '  ( Works, 
Eng.  tr.  ii.  370).  To  the  Calvinistic  theologians, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  highest  virtue  consisted  in 
submission  to  the  will  of  God  simply  because  it 
was  God's  will,  and  the  covenants  gained  their  great 
importance  because  they  defined  the  specific  form 
which,  from  age  to  age,  that  will  assumed  for  man. 

This  precision  of  statement  explains  the  promin- 
ence of  the  covenant  idea  in  Puritanism.  Puritan- 
ism, as  is  well  known,  is  a  type  of  thought  which 
makes  much  of  uniformity.  The  Puritan  believed 
that  God  had  not  only  revealed  a  way  of  salvation, 
but  had  established  certain  institutions  and  laid 
down  certain  laws,  by  means  of  which  this  salva- 
tion was  to  be  mediated  to  those  whom  God  had 
chosen  to  enjoy  its  blessings.  He  was  a  church- 
man as  well  as  an  individualist,  and  valued  the 
covenant  not  only  as  the  ground  of  personal  assur- 
ance to  the  individual  Christian,  but  as  the  charter 
which  established  the  existence  and  defined  the 
laws  of  the  Christian  society. 

From  this  fact  two  further  consequences  follow 
which  are  necessary  to  the  complete  definition  of 
the  covenant  theology  :  {a)  the  covenant  furnished 
the  framework  for  the  treatment  of  Christian 
ethics ;  and  (6)  it  gave  the  key  to  the  Christian 
interpretation  of  history. 

(3)  The  covenant  as  the  standard  of  Christian 
duty. — The  use  of  the  covenant  as  a  standard  of 
duty,  important  as  it  later  became,  is  derivative, 
not  primary.  The  earlier  theologians  knew  of  but 
one  covenant  between  God  and  man,  namely,  the 
covenant  of  grace.  In  this  the  Father,  in  con- 
sideration of  Christ's  promise  of  obedience  even 
unto  death,  agreed  to  accept  His  satisfaction  as  an 

1  Cf .  John  Preston  (The  New  Covenant,  or  the  Saint's  Portion, 
London,  1629):  'These  words  contain  a  further  and  a  greater 
favour  expressed  to  Abraham  than  the  former  words  do  .  .  .  that 
is,  I  will  not  only  tell  thee  what  I  am  able  to  doe,  1  will  not 
only  express  to  thee  in  generall  that  I  will  deale  well  with  thee, 
etc.  .  .  .  but  I  am  willing  to  enter  into  covenant  with  thee, 
that  is,  I  will  bind  myself,  I  will  ingage  myself,  I  will  enter  into 
bond,  as  it  were,  I  will  not  be  at  liberty  any  more,  but  I  am 
willing  to  make  a  covenant,  a  compact  and  agreement  with 
thee,'  etc.  (p.  70). 

2  The  Gospel  Covenant,  or  the  Covenant  of  Grace  opened,  etc. 
.  .  .  preached  in  Concord  in  New  England,  by  Peter  Bulkeley, 
London,  1646. 

3  Cf.  Arminius,  Works,  Eng.  tr.  by  Nichols,  London,  1825  ff., 
ii.  369  £f.,  389  ff.  ;  Limborch,  Compleat  System,  Eng.  tr.  by 
Jones,  London,  1702.  bk.  iii.  ch.  i.  §  7,  p.  211  ff. 


equivalent  for  the  punishment  due  by  guilty  man, 
and  to  accept  the  persons  of  the  elect  as  righteous 
for  His  sake.  God's  dealings  with  Adam  in 
Paradise  were  not  brought  under  the  covenant  idea 
except  in  so  far  as  the  promise  to  Eve  that  her 
seed  should  bruise  the  serpent's  head  (Gn  316)  was 
regarded  as  an  anticipation  of  the  later  covenant 
of  grace.  In  the  course  of  time,  however,  the  idea 
was  extended  to  include  all  God's  dealings  with 
man,  before  as  well  as  after  the  Fall.  Two 
covenants  were  distinguished  —  the  covenant  of 
works  made  in  Paradise  with  Adam  as  the  federal 
head  of  the  race,  and  the  covenant  of  grace  made 
with  Christ,  the  second  Adam,  or  with  the  elect  in 
Him  as  their  representative.  In  the  former,  God 
reveals  the  substance  of  the  moral  law  as  the 
condition  which  He  prescribes  for  the  attainment 
of  salvation.  In  the  latter,  He  acquaints  men  with 
the  machinery  which  He  devised  for  the  repair  of 
Adam's  fault.  But  the  substitution  of  the  second 
for  the  first  covenant  does  not  render  the  moral 
law  obsolete  ;  it  only  alters  man's  relation  to  that 
law.  After  as  well  as  before  the  Fall  perfect 
holiness  is  essential  to  salvation,  and  not  the  least 
of  the  blessings  of  the  covenant  of  grace  is  its  clear 
repetition  of  the  substance  of  the  law  originally 
promulgated  in  Paradise.  The  covenant  of  grace 
differs  from  the  covenant  of  works  in  the  fact  that 
it  adds  to  the  law  the  promise,  i.e.  the  disclosure 
of  the  means  through  which  Adam's  original  fault 
is  to  be  repaired  and  the  blessings  of  salvation  won 
by  Christ  to  be  mediated  to  the  elect.  Accord- 
ingly, the  covenant  of  grace  includes,  with  the 
substance  of  the  moral  law,  institutions  of  worship 
{i.e.  sacraments  and  ceremonies)  which,  varying 
from  age  to  age,  typify  Christ,  and  seal  to  believers 
the  grace  which  He  has  merited  for  them.1 

The  literature  of  the  covenant,  therefore,  is  full 
of  discussion  as  to  the  nature  of  the  Church  and  of 
the  sacraments.  Since  the  sacraments  are  signs 
and  seals  of  the  covenant  of  grace,  it  is  essential 
that  they  should  be  rightly  administered,  and  that 
those  only  should  be  admitted  to  partake  of  them 
who  are  really  entitled  to  the  privilege.  Here  we 
find  differences  of  opinion  among  those  who  were 
agreed  as  to  the  general  significance  of  the  covenant 
and  were  at  one  in  their  opposition  to  Arminianism. 
Some  held  that  the  regenerate  only  had  any  right 
to  the  privilege  of  the  sacraments  ; 2  others  were 
willing  to  take  a  Christian  profession  {i.e.  a  dog- 
matical, as  distinct  from  a  justifying,  faith)  as 
prima  facie  evidence  of  right  of  admission  to  the 
sacraments.8  The  controversy  as  to  the  half-way 
covenant,  which  agitated  New  England  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  17th  and  in  the  18th  cent.,  is  an 
echo  of  these  earlier  disputes. 

There  was  also  difference  of  opinion  as  to  the 
extent  to  which  the  conditional  language  properly 
applicable  to  the  covenant  of  works  could  be 
rightly  employed  of  the  covenant  of  grace.  In  the 
case  of  the  covenant  of  works  we  have  to  do  with 
a  real  condition.  The  whole  significance  of  the 
agreement  into  which  Adam  entered  with  his 
Maker  turned  upon  his  possession  of  the  freedom 
of  contingency.  But,  in  the  case  of  Adam's 
descendants,  such  freedom  is  lacking.  The  con- 
tracting party  in  the  second  covenant  is  Christ, 
the  second  Adam  ;  and  one  of  the  most  important 
considerations  in  the  compact  into  which  He  entered 
with  the  Father  was  that  the  Holy  Spirit  should 

1  The  later  Covenant  theologians,  interested  in  showing  the 
uniformity  of  God's  method  with  man,  carry  back  the  idea  of 
the  sacrament  to  Paradise,  and  associate  it  with  the  law  as  well 
as  with  the  Gospel  (cf.  Thomas  Blake,  The  Covenant  Sealed,  or 
a  Treatise  of  the  Sacraments  of  both  Covenants  .  .  .  London, 
1655,  p.  9ff.). 

2  e.g.  Richard  Baxter,  Plain  Scripture  Proof  of  Infants' 
Church-Membership  and  Baptism*  (London,  1656),  p  327, 
quoted  by  Blake,  op.  cit.  p.  114. 

3  Thomas  Blake,  op.  cit.  p.  114- 


218 


COVENANT  THEOLOGY 


be  granted  to  the  elect  to  make  possible  a  faith  of 
whicti  they  are  incapable  by  nature.  It  would 
seem,  then,  an  abuse  of  language  to  speak  of  any 
condition  to  be  fulfilled  on  the  part  of  the  elect  as 
distinct  from  Christ,  and  this  was  the  position 
taken  by  some  of  the  more  rigorous  Puritans. 
Christ,  they  held,  was  the  sole  party  to  the  covenant 
of  grace.1  Others,2  however,  distinguished  two 
covenants :  the  covenant  of  redemption  entered 
into  between  the  Father  and  the  Son,  and  the 
covenant  of  grace  made  with  the  elect  through 
Him.  The  covenant  of  grace,  no  less  than  that  of 
works,  they  regarded  as  conditional,  the  difference 
being  that  in  the  former  case  the  sole  condition  was 
faith  in  Christ,  which  faith  was  itself  made  possible 
through  the  gift  of  the  Spirit. 

But,  whatever  difference  of  opinion  there  may 
have  been  as  to  the  conditionality  of  the  covenant  of 
grace,  all  agreed  that  no  one  could  be  saved  whose 
life  did  not  conform  to  the  standard  which  it 
revealed.  Of  all  heresies  Antinomianism  (q.v. )  was 
most  abhorrent  to  the  Puritan,  and  many  contro- 
versial tracts  reveal  the  eagerness  of  the  advocates 
of  the  covenant  theology  to  clear  their  skirts  from 
any  imputation  of  sympathy  with  so  abominable 
and  dangerous  an  opinion.  The  assurance  in  which 
the  Puritans  rejoiced  was  indeed  an  assurance  of 
salvation,  but  it  was  a  salvation  which  included 
ultimate  conformity  to  the  Divine  law.3 

(4)  The  covenant  as  a  key  to  the  Christian  inter- 
pretation of  history. — Thus  far  we  have  considered 
the  covenant  theology  primarily  on  its  practical 
side,  but  it  had  an  important  theoretical  signi- 
ficance as  well,  since  it  furnished  the  formula  for  the 
Christian  interpretation  of  history.  The  Biblical 
writers  speak  of  a  number  of  different  covenants 
entered  into  by  God  with  different  individuals  at 
different  times,  and  it  was  natural  that  the  problem 
of  the  relation  of  these  covenants  one  to  another 
should  engage  the  attention  of  Christian  theolo- 
gians. Protestants  were  agreed  that  God  followed 
a  uniform  method  in  His  treatment  of  men,  and 
hence  could  not  admit  any  essential  difference  in 
principle  between  the  covenants ;  but  they  could 
not  shut  their  eyes  to  the  contrast  between  the 
covenant  with  Moses  at  Sinai  and  the  new  covenant 
foretold  by  Jeremiah  and  the  prophets,  which  the 
Apostle  Paul  identifies  with  the  Christian  gospel ; 
nor  could  they  overlook  the  contrast  drawn  by 
Paul  himself  between  the  promise  to  Abraham  and 
the  law  given  by  Moses.  Thus,  the  relation  be- 
tween these  different  covenants  constituted  a 
problem,  the  solution  of  which  furnished  the 
nearest  approach  to  a  philosophy  of  history  which 
the  theology  of  the  time  possessed. 

In  general,  it  may  be  said  that  it  was  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  earlier  Protestant  theologians  to  minim- 
ize the  difference  between  the  Christian  gospel  and 
its  preparation  in  the  religion  of  Israel.  All  the 
Reformers  recognize  the  contrast  between  the  OT 
and  the  NT,  and  devote  a  section  of  their  theology 
to  a  discussion  of  their  differences.  But  they  are 
agreed  that  these  differences  are  superficial,  and 
that,  in  substance,  the  two  Testaments  are  the 
same.  What  the  old  dispensation  shadows  forth 
in  types,  the  new  fulfils  in  reality,  but  both  alike, 
the  OT  and  the  NT,  the  law  of  Moses  and  the 
gospel  of  Christ,  are  to  be  regarded  as  different 
forms  of  the  one  covenant  of  grace  (cf.  the  West- 
minster formula,  '  one  covenant  under  different 
administrations,'  Westm,  Con.  vii.  5,  6). 

1  So  John  Saltmarsh,  Free  Grace,  or  the  Flowings  of  Christ's 
Blood  freely  to  Sinners^,  London,  1646,  p.  126;  Tobias  Crisp 
(1600-1642),  Christ  Alone  Exalted,  1643-6. 

2  e.g.  Daniel  Williams,  Gospel  Truth  Stated  and  Vindicated, 
etc.,  London,  1692,  a  reply  to  Crisp. 

3  This  consciousness  of  strict  moral  responsibility  found  ex- 
pression in  the  National  Covenants,  to  which  reference  will 
presently  be  made,  as  well  as  in  the  large  space  given  to  the 
exposition  of  the  moral  law  in  the  Catechisms  of  Puritanism. 


With  the  recognition  of  the  twofold  covenant  a 
further  distinction  is  introduced.  We  have  now 
the  contrast  between  the  covenant  of  works  entered 
into  between  God  and  Adam,  the  substance  of 
whose  requirement  is  repeated  in  the  law  given  on 
Sinai,  and  the  covenant  of  grace  under  its  twofold 
administration,  the  OT  and  the  NT.  Another 
distinction  meets  us  in  William  Ames  (Amesius),1 
and  was  further  developed  by  Cocceius  and  his 
successors  in  the  early  part  if  the  17th  century. 
These  theologians,  while  making  use  of  the  general 
formula  already  described,  distinguished  within 
the  administration  of  the  old  dispensation  various 
historic  stages  marked  by  characteristics  of  their 
own.2  Thus,  there  are  the  periods  (1)  from  Adam 
to  Noah,  (2)  from  Noah  to  Abraham,  (3)  from 
Abraham  to  Moses,  (4)  from  Moses  to  David,  (5 ) 
from  David  to  Christ,  each  of  which  has  its  own 
institutions  and  sacraments.  In  like  manner,  the 
NT  has  its  own  divisions,  e.g.  (1)  from  the  Advent 
to  the  Resurrection,  (2)  from  the  Resurrection  to 
the  Second  Coming,  and  (3)  the  Final  Consummation 
in  the  world  to  come.  Such  a  treatment  made  it 
possible  for  those  theologians  to  do  more  justice  to 
the  facts  of  Biblical  history  than  was  possible  under 
the  more  rigorous  scheme  of  their  predecessors. 
Robertson  Smith,  speaking  of  the  federal  theology 
of  Cocceius,  says  with  justice  that,  '  with  all  its 
defects,'  it  'is  the  most  important  attempt,  in  the 
older  Protestant  theology,  to  do  justice  to  the 
historical  development  of  revelation '  (Prophets  oj 
Israel,  Edin.  1882,  p.  375). 

Thus  the  covenant  theology  has  a  threefold  sig- 
nificance. In  the  first  place,  it  is  a  theory  of  sal- 
vation ;  in  the  second  place,  it  is  a  programme  for 
conduct ;  in  the  third  place,  it  is  a  philosophy  of 
history.  The  section  that  follows  will  attempt  to 
show  how  the  different  interests  cross  and  re-cross 
in  the  course  of  the  history. 

3.  History  of  the  covenant  theology. — (1)  The 
antecedents. — The  Biblical  basis  for  the  covenant 
theology  is  found  partly  in  the  account  given  in 
the  OT  of  various  covenants  made  by  Jahweh  with 
Israel3  or  with  representative  Israelites,4  partly  in 
the  Pauline  identification  of  the  Christian  gospel 
with  the  new  or  spiritual  covenant  prophesied  by 
Jeremiah  and  other  prophets. 

The  Heb.  word  n'"!?,  tr.  '  covenant '  in  our  versions,  denotes 
either  a  treaty  or  alliance  entered  into  between  equals  (e.g. 
between  Abraham  and  the  Amorites,  Gn  1413,  AV  and  RV 

1  confederate ' ;  Hiram  and  Solomon,  1  K  512,  AV  and  RV 
'  league '),  or  a  constitution  or  ordinance  establishing  the  rela- 
tion between  a  monarch  and  his  subjects  (e.g.  David  and  the 
Israelites,  2  S  63 ;  Zedekiah  and  his  people,  Jer  348-18).  This 
difference  of  meaning  is  not  without  its  bearing  on  the  later 
history. 

If  we  analyze  the  transactions  described  in  the  OT  by  the 
term  'covenant  '(rr -13),  we  find  that  they  fall  into  two  classes 
— those  in  which  Jahweh  reveals  to  His  servants  a  purpose 
which  He  has  conceived  independently  of  man,  and  whose 
execution  is  dependent  upon  no  one  but  Himself,  and  those  in 
which  the  conduct  of  the  people  with  whom  the  covenant  is 
made  is  a  determining  factor.  Of  the  former  class  are  the 
covenants  with  Noah  and  Abraham  ;  to  the  latter  belong  the 
covenant  at  Sinai  and  the  later  covenants  with  Jehoiada  (2  K  ll17), 
Hezekiah  (2  Ch  29"),  and  Josiah  (2  K  233).  The  promise  to 
Noah  that  day  and  night  shall  no  more  fail  (Qn  822),  or  to 

1  (1576-1633)  Medulla  S.S.  Theologian,  Eng.  tr.  The  Marrow  0} 
Sacred  Divinity,  1642,  chs.  xxxviii.,  xxxix. 

2  Gass  (Gesch.  der  prot.  Dogmatik,  Berlin,  1857,  ii.  265), 
following  Schweizer  (Reform.  Glaubenslehre,  i.  103  ff.)  and 
Schneckenburger  (Vergleichende  Darstellung,  etc.,  ii.  146), 
regards  this  disposition  to  apply  the  covenant  form  to  the 
different  stages  in  the  history  of  religion  as  characteristic  of 
the  Reformed  theology  from  the  first,  and  finds  its  beginnings 
in  Bullinger  and  Leo  Jud. 

s  e.g.  at  Sinai  (Ex  195  24«-  [E]  341°-  27-  28  [J]  3116,  Lv  2»  fP] 
248  2691.,  Dt  4iS) ;  in  the  plain  of  Moab  (Dt  291-  21 ). 

i  e.g.  Noah  (Gn  99-17  [PJ,  Is  6410,  jer  332<>-  25) ;  Abraham, 
Isaac,  and  Jacob  (Gn  1618  [J]  172-21,  Ex  224  6";  Lv  26"  [P], 

2  K  1323,  1  Ch  16i5ff-,  Ps  105»- 10,  Neh  98,  Jer  3418) ;  phinehas, 
(Nu  2612f.  [P]) ;  Joshua  and  Israel  (Jos  2426  [E]) ;  David  (Ps 
893-28.34.39  13212,  jer  3321,  ef.  2  S  7,  1  Oh  17);  Jehoiada  and 
the  people  (2  K  11",  2  Oh  2316);  Hezekiah  (2  Ch  291°) ;  Josiah 
(2  K  233) ;  and  Ezra  (Ezr  103). 


COVENANT  THEOLOGY 


219 


Abraham  that  in  his  seed  all  nations  shall  be  blessed  (Gn  123 
etc.),  is  obviously  not  in  the  same  class  with  the  promises  which 
accompanied  the  giving  of  the  Law  to  Israel,  which  were,  in  the 
nature  of  the  case,  conditional  upon  the  future  conduct  of  the 
Israelites.    Yet  both  alike  are  described  by  the  same  word. 

Besides  these  covenants  there  is  also  frequent  reference  in 
the  prophets  to  a  new  covenant  which  Jahweh  is  to  establish 
with  redeemed  Israel  in  the  future  (Jer  3isi-ss,  cft  i3  406  493  553 
692J  613,  Jer  32^°  60&,  Ezk  1660-  62  20"  34s5  3728,  Hos  218-20), 
Unlike  the  old  covenant,  this  is  to  be  inward  and  spiritual,  a 
law  written  on  the  hearts  of  the  people  (Jer  31s3),  and  will  be  of 
everlasting  validity. 

This  new  covenant  the  NT  identifies  with  the  Christian  gospel, 
which  is  contrasted  with  the  Mosaic  law  as  the  former  or  old 
covenant  (Gal  42-1,  He  910.  i«,  cf .  89,  2  Co  36).  Like  the  latter,  it 
was  sealed  with  sacrifice— even  the  blood  of  Christ,  who  by  His 
voluntary  obedience  and  submission  unto  death  has  rendered 
the  older  sacrificial  system  superfluous  and  become  the  mediator 
of  a  new  and  better  covenant  (He  722  86-9  122-i^  since  it  is  an 
everlasting  one  (132a).  This  new  covenant  is  symbolized  in  the 
cup  which  Jesus  gave  to  His  disciples  at  the  Last  Supper  (Mt 
2628,  Mk  1424,  Lk  2220,  1  Co  1125).  it  has  its  anticipation  in  the 
covenant  of  promise  made  by  Jahweh  with  Abraham  (Gal  317, 
cf.  Eph  212,  Ac  325),  which,  being  prior  to  the  Law,  could  not 
be  superseded  by  it. 

We  find  thus  in  the  NT  the  same  double  usage  which  we  found 
in  the  OT,  the  word  &La6r)Kv  being  used  now  to  denote  a  free 
promise  of  God,  as  to  Abraham  and  his  seed,  and  later  to  Chris- 
tian believers  in  the  gospel,  now  of  a  series  of  precepts  and  orders 
given  through  Moses  and  his  successors,  and  conditional  in  their 
effects  upon  the  obedience  of  the  people. 

In  He  916  the  idea  of  the  covenant  is  interchanged  with  that 
of  the  testament,  or  will — a  substitution  which  explains  the 
uniform  rendering  of  Sia9^<7}  in  the  Vulgate  by  the  Lat.  testa- 
mentum,  and  its  frequent  translation  in  AV  by  the  word 
'  testament '  (e.g.  Mt  262S  Mk  1424,  Lk  2220,  1  Qq  11&,  2  Co  36- 14, 
He  722  9i5ff.). 

In  view  of  the  emphasis  laid  hy  the  Biblical 
writers  upon  the  covenant  idea,  and  their  use  of 
the  conception  to  describe  the  different  steps  in 
the  Divine  training  of  mankind,  it  is  surprising 
that  it  should  so  early  and  so  completely  have 
fallen  into  the  background.  Irenseus  is  the  only 
early  Christian  writer  who  makes  much  use  of 
it.  He  distinguishes  several  different  covenants 
[diad-jjicq,  testamentum)  into  which  God  has  entered 
with  man,  and  regards  the  study  of  their  nature 
and  relations  as  a  legitimate  subject  for  Christian 
investigation.1  His  interest  in  the  subject  is, 
doubtless,  due  to  the  fact  that,  like  St.  Paul,  he 
was  chiefly  concerned  with  the  question  of  the 
nature  of  the  difference  between  Judaism  and 
Christianity — a  difference  which  naturally  ex- 
pressed itself  in  the  contrast  between  the  old 
covenant  and  the  new.  When  this  question  fell 
into  the  background,  as  it  soon  did,  the  covenant 
phraseology  went  out  of  use.  Augustine  makes 
no  use  of  the  idea  in  his  City  of  God,  and  it  plays 
no  important  part  in  the  theology  of  Roman  Cathol- 

1  While  in  one  passage  (in.  xi.  8)  Irenseus  distinguishes  four 
distinct  covenants  (namely,  those  with  Noah  [so  the  Greek  text ; 
the  Latin  reads  'Adam,'  and  substitutes  Noah  for  Abraham, 
omitting  the  latter],  Abraham,  Moses,  and  Christ),  in  general 
he  recognizes  only  two,  namely,  the  old  covenant,  or  law,  given 
through  Moses,  and  the  new,  or  gospel,  given  through  Christ 
(in.  xii.  11 ;  rv.  ix.  1,  xxxii.  2).  According  to  this  division,  God's 
dealing  with  man  in  the  pre-Mosaic  period  is  not  to  be  conceived 
under  the  covenant  relation,  the  reason  being  that  law  is  not 
needed  by  those  who  are  just  (iv.  xvi.  2).  The  Law,  by  which 
Iremeua  means  the  Jewish  ceremonial  law,  was  added  later 
because  of  sin,  and  was  destined  in  time  to  be  replaced  by  the 
Christian  gospel,  or  new  law  of  liberty  (lexvivijicatrix,  rv.  xxxiv. 
4),  as  the  means  through  which  alone  full  righteousness  and 
salvation  are  made  possible. 

We  have  thus  in  Irenseus  three  distinct  stages  in  the  process 
of  the  Divine  training  of  man — the  pre-Mosaio  period,  typified 
by  Abraham,  in  which  man  works  out  his  own  salvation  through 
obedience  to  the  natural  law  written  on  the  heart ;  the  period 
from  Moses  to  Christ,  in  which  his  salvation  is  conditioned  upon 
fidelity  to  the  Jewish  ceremonial  law ;  and  the  period  of  the 
gospel,  in  which  the  ceremonial  law  is  abrogated,  and  salvation 
depends  upon  man's  free  fulfilment  of  the  moral  law,  which 
Christ  has  reaffirmed  and  reinforced  with  new  sanctions. 
While,  in  general,  the  covenant  idea  is  applied  to  the  two 
later  of  these  periods  only,  in  principle  the  three  belong  to- 
gether, and,  in  one  passage,  the  covenant  idea  is  extended 
backwards  to  include  the  pre-Mosaic  period.  In  this,  as  we 
shall  see,  Irenaaus  is  typical  of  the  development  of  the  later 
covenant  theology. 

On  the  theology  of  Irenseus,  cf.  Werner, '  Der  Paulinismus  des 
Irenaus,'  in  TO ,  Leipzig,  1889,  pp.  179-202.  On  the  significance 
of  Irenaeus  in  early  Christian  theology,  cf.  W.  A.  Brown, 
Essence  of  Christianity,  Edinburgh,  1903,  p.  64  ff. 


icism.  It  was  only  when  the  rise  of  a  new  religioua 
type,  historically  derived  from  Catholicism,  but 
independent  of  it,  brought  the  question  of  the  dis- 
tinctive nature  of  Christianity  again  into  the  fore- 
ground, that  the  subjects  which  engaged  Irenaeus' 
thought  became  again  of  general  interest.  This 
condition  emerged  at  the  Reformation,  and  one 
of  its  consequences  was  the  revival  of  the  covenant 
idea. 

But,  though  Catholicism  contributed  little  directly 
to  the  preparation  for  this  type  of  theology,  its  in- 
direct contribution  was  great.  The  conception 
of  God  as  lawgiver  and  judge,  the  expression  of 
Christ's  work  in  terms  of  satisfaction  and  equiva- 
lence, the  conception  of  the  Christian  Church  as 
the  inheritor  of  the  rights  and  privileges  of  the 
Jewish  Church,  and  the  loss  of  St.  Paul  s  sense  of 
the  novelty  of  Christianity  as  a  historic  religion, 
all  helped  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  use  by  Pro- 
testant theologians  of  OT  legalistic  phraseology 
to  describe  a  type  of  religious  experience  whose 
characteristic  feature  was  the  denial  of  the  possi- 
bility of  salvation  by  works. 

(2)  The  beginnings  of  the  covenant  theology. — 
In  tracing  the  history  of  the  covenant  theology  in 
Protestantism,  we  have  to  recall  the  distinction 
already  made  between  the  covenant  idea  and  the 
covenant  theology.  The  idea  of  the  covenant  or 
testament  is  usea  by  all  the  -Reformers  to  express 
God's  gracious  revelation  to  His  people,  both  before 
and  after  Christ.  Two  such  revelations  were  dis- 
tinguished, the  OT  and  the  NT,  agreeing  in  sub- 
stance, but  differing  in  administration,  and  the 
nature  at  once  of  the  agreement  and  of  the  differ- 
ence forms  the  subject  of  a  special  locus  in  the 
early  Protestant  dogmatics  {e.g.  on  the  Law  and 
the  Gospel ;  on  the  difference  between  the  OT  and 
the  NT).1  But  the  conception  was  not  given  the 
structural  importance  in  the  system  which  it  later 
acquired,  and  which  warrants  us  in  speaking  of  a 
covenant  theology  as  distinct  from  the  covenant 
idea. 

We  may  take  Calvin  as  typical  of  all  the  Re- 
formers. He  distinguishes  the  Gospel  not  merely 
from  the  Law,  but  from  earlier  gracious  revelations 
of  God  within  the  OT,  yet  he  hastens  to  add  that 
we  must  not  imagine  that  the  Gospel  has 
'  succeeded  the  whole  Law  in  such  a  sense  as  to  introduce  a 
different  method  of  salvation.  It  rather  confirms  the  Law,  and 
proves  that  everything  which  it  promised  is  fulfilled.  What  was 
shadow,  it  has  made  substance.  When  Christ  says  that  the  Law 
and  the  Prophets  were  until  John,  he  does  not  consign  the 
fathers  to  the  curse,  which,  as  the  slaves  of  the  Law,  they  could 
not  escape.  He  intimates  that  they  were  only  imbued  with  the 
rudiments,  and  remained  far  beneath  the  height  of  the  Gospel 
doctrine.  .  .  .  Hence  we  infer  that,  when  the  whole  Law  is 
spoken  of,  the  Gospel  differs  from  it  only  in  respect  of  clearness 
of  manifestation '  (Institutes,  n.  ix.  4).2 

1  Thus  Calvin  finds  the  agreement  (1)  in  the  common  hope  of 
immortality ;  (2)  in  the  fact  that  both  were  established  by  the 
mercy  of  God ;  (3)  in  that  'they  both  had  and  knew  Christ,  the 
Mediator,  by  whom  they  were  united  to  God  and  made  capable 
of  receiving  his  promises.'  The  difference  consisted  (1)  in  that 
in  the  old  covenant  the  heavenly  inheritance  was  exhibited 
under  the  form  of  temporal  blessings,  which  was  not  the  case 
in  the  new ;  (2)  in  that  the  OT  typified  Christ  under  ceremonies 
which  exhibited  '  only  the  image  of  truth,  the  shadow,  not  the 
substance,'  whereas  the  NT  gives  us  '  both  the  full  truth  and  the 
entire  body ' ;  (3)  in  that  the  OT  is  literal,  and  the  NT  spiritual ; 
(4)  in  that  the  OT  is  one  of  bondage,  the  NT  one  of  liberty  ;  and, 
finally,  (5)  in  that  the  OT  is  for  one  people  only,  while  the  NT  is 
for  all.    Cf.  Brown,  Essence  of  Christianity,  p.  103  f. 

2  It  is  instructive  to  compare  Calvin's  view  with  that  of 
Irenseus.  He  follows  Irenaeus  in  conceiving  of  two  covenants 
or  testaments,  the  Old  and  the  New.  He  agrees  with  him  further 
in  that  he  does  not  apply  the  term  '  covenant '  to  God's  primitive 
revelation  to  Adam  in  Paradise.  He  differs  from  Irenseus  in  that 
he  brings  both  covenants  under  the  conception  of  grace  rather 
than  of  law.  Irenseus,  like  the  early  theologians  in  general, 
conceived  salvation  primarily  in  terms  of  the  fulfilment  of  law. 
To  Calvin,  as  to  all  the  Reformers,  salvation  is  a  means  of  repair 
ing  the  damage  wrought  by  man's  transgression  of  law.  Like 
Irenaaus,  Calvin  regards  both  covenants  as  expressions  of  a  single 
principle.  But,  whereas  Irenseus  carries  forward  the  idea  of  merit 
from  the  Law  and  applies  it  to  the  Gospel,  Calvin  carries  back  the 
idea  of  free  grace  into  the  Law,  and  interprets  the  latter  by  the 


220 


COVENANT  THEOLOGY 


In  thus  emphasizing  the  essential  unity  of  God's 
dealings  with  His  people,  Calvin  is  representative 
of  all  the  Reformers.  Luther 1  and  Melanchthon 2 
recognize  no  difference  in  principle  between  God's 
dealings  with  His  people  under  the  old  dispensation 
and  under  the  new.  The  first  specific  treatise  on 
the  covenant  which  the  present  writer  has  been 
able  to  discover  is  that  of  the  Swiss  reformer, 
Henry  Bullinger,  which  bears  date  1534,  and  has 
for  its  title  De  Testamento  sive  fcedere  Dei  unico  et 
ceterno.  Bullinger,  like  his  predecessors,  recognizes 
only  one  covenant,  namely,  the  covenant  of  grace.3 

The  beginnings  of  the  covenant  theology  in  a 
technical  sense  are  to  be  found  on  German  soil, 
and  precede  the  more  famous  school  of  Cocceius  by 
more  than  half  a  century.  Its  representatives  were 
Reformed  theologians  who,  under  the  influence  of 
a  warm  and  vital  piety,  had  developed  a  theology 
which  differed  in  several  respects  from  the  stricter 
predestinarianism  of  Switzerland  and  France.  This 
theology  had  three  main  characteristics.  In  the 
first  place,  it  used  the  conception  of  the  Divine 
covenant,  with  its  synonyms,  the  Church  or  the 
Kingdom,  as  a  comprehensive  theological  idea  to 
express  the  purpose  at  once  of  creation  and  of 
redemption,  and  to  give  unity  to  the  rest  of  the 
system.  In  the  second  place,  it  associated  this 
conception  with  the  idea  of  the  believer's  mystic 
union  with  Christ ;  and,  in  the  third  place,  it 
deduced  from  the  combination  of  these  two  con- 
ceptions, rather  than  from  the  doctrine  of  pre- 
destination, its  doctrine  of  the  perseverance  of  the 
saints.4  The  two  best  known  representatives  of 
this  theology  were  Caspar  Olevianus  and  Zacharias 
Ursinus,  the  authors  of  the  Heidelberg  Cate- 
chism.6 

Olevianus'  most  important  dogmatic  monograph, 
published  anonymously  in  1585,  is  entitled  De  sub- 
stantia foederis  gratuiti  inter  Deum  et  electos, 
itemque  de  mediis,  etc.  This  work,  as  the  title 
indicates,  discusses  the  nature  of  the  free  covenant 
between  God  and  the  elect,  and  the  means  through 
which  its  substance  is  communicated  to  us.  The 
substance  of  the  covenant  consists  in  God's  promise 
and  oath  that  He  will  never  be  angry  with  His 

former.  We  may  say,  indeed,  that  the  characteristic  feature  of 
the  Reformed  theology  is  the  attempt  to  use  legal  phraseology 
to  express  a  gospel  which  is  essentially  anti-legal ;  and  the  reason 
why  the  covenant  idea  finds  such  favour  with  its  representatives 
is  the  fact  that  the  covenant  expresses  an  obligation  voluntarily 
assumed  on  either  side,  and  hence  not  properly  to  be  Drought 
under  the  sphere  of  necessity. 

1  Cf.  the  references  in  Kostlin,  Luthers  Theologie  in  ihrer 
geschichtlichen  Entwicklung  und  ihrem  inner  en  Zusam- 
menhange?,  Stuttgart,  1883,  2  vols.,  esp.  ii.  376  ff.,  Eng.  tr. 
ii.  359  ff. 

a  Cf.  his  Loci  Communes,  ed.  Eolde,  2nd  ed.,  Leipzig,  1890, 
esp.  p.  211  ff. 

8  The  design  of  Bullinger's  treatise  is  to  show  that  the  gospel 
is  older  than  Judaism,  Muhammadanism,  and  Catholicism  ; 
indeed,  that  it  goes  back  to  '  Noah,  Enoch,  Seth,  Abel,  Adam, 
who  without  circumcision  pleased  God  through  faith. '  He  holds 
that  there  is  no  Christian  virtue  commended  in  the  NT  which 
was  not  equally  exemplified  in  the  words  and  deeds  of  Abraham. 
Cf.  the  citations  given  by  Rockwell,  Die  DoppeleJie  des  Land- 
grafen  Philipp  von  Hessen,  Marburg,  1904,  p.  223,  note  2. 

4  So  Heppe,  Dogmatik  des  deutschen  Protestantismus  im 
16ten  Jahrhundert,  Gotha,  1857,  i.  143  ff.  Heppe  is  the 
best  authority  on  the  German  Reformed  theology,  and  this 
work  gives  much  information  concerning  works  otherwise 
inaccessible  to  English  readers.    Cf.  esp.  pp.  139  ff.,  188 ff. 

5  Besides  Olevianus  and  Ursinus,  Heppe  mentions,  as  repre- 
sentatives of  the  covenant  theology,  Andrew  Hyperius,  Professor 
of  Theology  at  Marburg  from  1541  to  1564  (Methodi  theologies 
sive  prcsapuorum  Christianas  retigionis  locorum  communium, 
Basel,  1566)  ;  Peter  Boquinus,  Professor  of  Theology  at  Heidel- 
berg, died  1682  (Exegesis  divines  atque  humance  Koivuvias, 
Heidelberg,  1561) ;  Joachim  CuraBus  (Exegesis  perspicua  et 
fenne  integra  controversies  de  sacra  coena,  1574,  ed.  Scheffer, 
Marburg,  1853)  ;  Sohnius  ('  Methodus  theologize,'  Opp.  ed.  3,  i. 
234  ff.);  Raphael  Eglin,  Professor  of  Theology  in  Marburg 
(Diexodus  theologica  de  magna  Mo  insitionis  nostras  in  Chris- 
turn  mysterio  Rom.  6 ;  De  fcedere  gratiee  ex  loco  Rom.  831, 
Marburg,  1613),  and  esp.  the  theologians  of  Bremen,  Matthias 
Martinius  (Christianas  doctrines  summa  capita,  1603),  and 
Ludwig  Crociua  (De  perseverantia  sanctorum  libri  septem 
dogmatici  et  apologetici,  Bremen,  1616). 


elect,  but  will  receive  them  as  sons  of  God  and 
heirs  of  eternal  life  in  Jesus  Christ.  This  promise 
consists  in  the  offering  through  the  gospel  of  the 
Son  of  God,  with  the  double  benefit  which  He 
brings,  namely,  the  remission  of  sins  and  renewal 
after  the  Divine  image  through  the  life-giving 
Spirit.  These  gifts  are  made  known  to  us  out- 
wardly, by  the  word  and  by  visible  signs,  as  a 
testimony  of  agreement  between  God  and  our- 
selves, and  are  confirmed  with  inner  efficacy  by 
the  free  gift  of  faith  through  the  infinite  mercy 
of  God  to  the  elect.  The  work  is  introduced  by  a 
discussion  of  the  following  questions:  (1)  Who  is 
God,  the  author  of  the  covenant?  (2)  Who  is  man, 
with  whom  God  establishes  His  covenant?  (3) 
What  is  the  nature  of  the  covenant  itself  ? 

Even  more  striking  in  its  historic  significance 
is  an  earlier  treatise  of  Olevianus,  the  Expositio 
Symboli,1  in  which  the  Apostles'  Creed  is  inter- 
preted under  the  form  of  an  exposition  of  the 
covenant  of  grace,  the  articles  of  the  Creed  being 
regarded  as  a  brief  statement  of  the  terms  of  the 
covenant.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  the  first  book  of 
the  De  substantia  foederis  also  takes  the  form  of 
an  exposition  of  the  Apostles'  Creed,  the  second 
book  being  given  to  the  proofs  of  the  covenant. 
Under  this  head  Olevianus  discusses  the  function 
of  the  Church,  and  more  specifically  the  word  and 
the  sacraments.  Here  we  see  the  covenant  idea 
given  structural  significance  and  made  a  com- 
prehensive conception  under  which  the  whole 
content  of  Christian  faith  and  practice  may  be 
brought.2 

Olevianus  recognized  in  principle  but  a  single 
covenant,  namely,  the  covenant  of  grace.  It  was 
reserved  for  his  successors  {e.g.  Raphael  Eglin, 
and  Matthias  Martinius)  to  extend  the  covenant 
idea  to  the  relation  of  man  before  the  Fall  and 
to  distinguish  two  covenants — that  of  works  and 
that  of  grace.3  With  this  distinction  the  scheme, 
of  the  covenant  theology  in  its  later  form  is  com- 
plete. 

(3)  The  covenant  theology  in  Puritanism. — 
Parallel  with  the  movement  already  described, 
we  find  another  developing  on  the  other  side  of 
the  channel.  In  English  Puritanism,  as  we  have 
already  seen,  the  covenant  idea  found  congenial 
soil,  and  the  later  treatises  of  Cocceius  and  his 
school  owe  quite  as  much  to  the  impulse  gained 
from  English  writers4  as  to  the  German  theo- 
logians already  referred  to. 

1  Expositio  Symboli  Apostolici,  sive  articulorum  fidei,  in  qua 
summa  gratuiti  foederis  csterni  inter  Deum  et  fideles  bremter 
etperspicue  tractatur,  Frankfort,  1576. 

2  While  agreeing  in  substance  with  Olevianus,  Ursinus  does 
not  give  the  covenant  so  important  a  place  in  the  structure  of 
his  system.  His  views  are  set  forth  most  fully  in  his  Sum  of 
the  Christian  Religion  of  1598  (Corpus  doctrines  Christianas 
ecclesiarum  a  papatu  reformatarum,  continens  explicatitmes 
catecheticos  D.  Zacharice  Ursini  .  .  .  studio  Davidis  Parei 
.  .  .).  This  work  was  the  outgrowth  of  Ursinus'  lectures  on 
the  Heidelberg  Catechism,  first  published  in  Geneva  in  1584 ; 
afterwards  in  a  fuller  edition  by  David  Pareus  in  1591.  Pareus' 
work  was  a  revision  and  amplification  based  upon  his  own  notes, 
and  included  much  matter  for  which  Ursinus  was  not  re- 
sponsible. This  matter  the  later  edition  of  1598  omits,  and  it 
may  be  regarded  as  the  most  authoritative  statement  of  Ursinus' 
views.  It  was  often  reprinted,  and  was  translated  into  English 
under  the  title,  The  Summe  of  Christian  Religion,  by  Dr.  Henry 
Parry,  London,  1646. 

The  discussion  of  the  covenant  is  introduced  by  Ursinus 
between  Questions  18  and  19,  which  deal  with  the  mediatorship 
of  Christ,  and  the  gospel,  and  includes  the  following  sub-heads  ' 
(1)  What  a  covenant  is  ;  (2)  Whether  it  can  be  made  without  a 
mediator;  (3)  Whether  there  be  but  one  and  the  same  cove- 
nant, or  more ;  (4)  In  what  the  old  and  the  new  covenant 
agree,  and  in  what  they  differ. 

3  Cf.  Heppe,  op.  cit.  p.  197.  It  is  an  interesting  question 
when  the  idea  of  the  covenant  of  God  with  Adam  first  makes 
its  appearance.  We  find  no  trace  of  it  in  our  canonical  Scrip- 
tures. Schmidt  (art.  '  Covenant '  in  EBi)  finds  the  first  appear- 
ance of  the  idea  in  Sir  1712,  but  the  reference  is  not  altogether 
clear,  and  other  commentators  refer  the  passage  to  Sinai. 

*  Among  Cocceius'  teachers,  besides  Martinius  and  Crocius, 
was  the  English  Puritan,  William  Ames. 


COVENANT  THEOLOGY 


221 


The  covenant  idea  makes  ita  earliest  appear- 
ance in  English  history  in  practical  rather  than 
theoretical  form,  in  the  National  Covenants  entered 
into  by  the  Scottish  people  and  their  rulers. 
These  were  solemn  engagements,  in  which  the 
nation  as  a  whole  pledged  itself  to  he  true  to 
the  revealed  will  of  God  as  set  forth  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  interpreted  with  the  stern  literalism 
of  the  Puritan  conscience.  Such  a  national  cove- 
nant is  the  so-called  Second  Scottish  Confession,  a 
practical  appendix  to  the  early  Confession  of  Knox 
(1560),  to  which  the  people  publicly  subscribed  in 
the  year  1581.  It  was  frequently  renewed  in  the 
course  of  the  later  history,  and  played  a  momentous 
part  in  the  struggles  of  the  Stuarts  with  their  re- 
bellious fellow-countrymen.  It  is  not  strange  that 
an  idea  familiarized  to  the  Scottish  people  in  so 
dramatic  a  way  should  have  received  early  literary 
expression.     See  art.  COVENANTEES. 

One  of  the  earliest  Scottish  monographs  on  the 
covenant  bears  date  1596,  and  is  by  Robert  Rollock 
(1555-1598),  a  distinguished  Principal  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Edinburgh  (Qucestiones  et  Besponsiones 
aliquot  de  fosdere  Dei  deque  Sacramento  quod 
foederis  Dei  sigillum  est).  Here  already  there  is 
emphasized  the  close  connexion  between  the  cove- 
nant and  the  sacrament  which  is  characteristic  of 
the  later  history.1 

English  monographs  were  frequent  during  the 
first  half  of  the  17th  century.  An  anonymous 
treatise,  bearing  date  1616,  is  dedicated  to  the 
mayor  and  magistrates  of  the  town  of  Feversham 
in  Kent.2  Like  Olevianus,  its  author  uses  the 
covenant  idea  as  a  framework  for  the  exposition 
of  the  Creed.  His  practical  interest  is  apparent 
in  his  emphasis  upon  the  importance  of  renewing 
one's  covenant  made  in  baptism  through  'a  con- 
tinual repeating '  of  it,  which  takes  place  in  cate- 
chizing the  children  of  the  faithful  (p.  63).  Other 
treatises  by  John  Preston  (The  New  Covenant,  or 
the  Saints  Portion,  London,  1629),  and  George 
Downame  (The  Covenant  of  Grace,  or  an  Exposi- 
tion upon  Lk  l73- 74-76,  Dublin,  1631),  are  likewise 
practical  in  nature. 

The  theological  significance  of  the  idea  is  appar- 
ent in  the  place  given  to  it  in  systematic  treatises. 
William  Ames  (1576-1633)  in  his  Medulla  S.S.  Theo- 
logian (Eng.  tr.  Marrow  of  Sacred  Divinity,  1642) 3 
distinguishes  two  covenants— the  law  or  covenant 
of  works  given  to  Adam  in  Paradise,  having  as  its 
symbols  the  two  trees  of  the  Garden  (I.  x.  33),  and 
the  covenant  of  grace  made  with  the  redeemed 
through  Christ.  Ames  traces  the  various  steps  in 
the  administration  of  the  covenant  of  grace,  dis- 
tinguishing not  only  the  periods  before  and  after 
Christ  (the  OT  and  NT),  but  also,  under  the  first, 
the  periods  from  Adam  to  Abraham,  from  Abraham 
to  Moses,  from  Moses  to  Christ ;  and,  under  the 
second,  the  period  from  Christ  to  the  end  of  the 
world  and  the  eternal  reign  of  the  saints  in  heaven 
(I.  xxxviii.  xxxix.).  In  this  he  anticipates  the 
later  teaching  of  his  pupil  Cocceius. 

Even  more  detailed  is  the  description  of  the 
covenant  given  by  Ussher  in  his  Body  of  Divinity.4 
Here  the  nature  of  the  compact  made  by  God  with 
Adam  is  described  in  great  detail,  and  man  in  the 
person  of  our  first  parent  is  declared  to  have  pro- 

1  Mitchell  (Westminster  Assembly,  London,  1883,  p.  377)  cites 
Howie  as  another  early  Scottish  representative  of  the  covenant 
theology,  but  the  present  writer  has  not  been  able  to  verify  the 
reference. 

2  The  covenant  between  God  and  man  playnely  declared  in 
laying  down  the  chiefest  points  of  Christian  religion,  London, 
1616. 

3  Cf.  also  William  Perkins,  A  Golden  Chain,  or  the  description 
of  theologie  (Workes,  London,  1635,  i.  70 f.);  An  exposition 
of  the  symbole  or  Creede  of  the  Apostles  (ib.  p.  164  ff.);  John 
Downame,  The  Summe  of  Sacred  Divinitie,  London,  n.d.,  bk.  i. 
ch.  xvi.,  bk.  ii.  ch.  i. 

4  A  Body  of  Divinitie,  or  the  Summe  and  Substance  of 
Christian  Religion,  London,  1646. 


mised  '  by  that  power  which  he  had  received  to 
keep  the  whole  law,  binding  himself  over  to 
punishment  in  case  he  did  not  obey '  (p.  126). 
On  the  other  hand,  the  covenant  of  grace  was 
made  by  '  God  alone,'  who,  immediately  after 
man's  fall  in  Paradise,  declared  to  Adam  His 
gracious  purpose  to  save  the  elect  through  Christ 
(p.  158).i 

Through  Ussher  the  covenant  idea  received  its 
first  confessional  expression  in  Puritanism.  It 
appears  in  the  21st  article  of  the  Irish  Articles, 
or  which  he  was  the  author,  and  from  them  passed 
to  the  Westminster  Confession  of  Faith,  in  which 
it  forms  the  subject  of  a  special  chapter  (vii.).s 

The  covenant  was  frequently  discussed  in  the 
latter  half  of  the  17th  century.  It  appears  not 
only  in  the  works  of  the  great  Puritan  theologians, 
Richard  Baxter3  (1615-1691),  and  John  Owen4 
(1616-1683),  but  in  many  monographs  by  men  less 
known  to  fame,  e.g.  John  Saltmarsh,6  Thomas 
Blake,6  William  Allen,7  Edward  Leigh,8  and 
Daniel  Williams.9  It  filled  an  important  r61e 
in  the  controversies  that  divided  the  different 
parties  in  the  Church,  and  a  correct  understanding 
of  its  nature  and  scope  was  regarded  as  one  of  the 
prime  requisites  of  a  sound  orthodoxy. 

Thus,  as  we  have  already  seen,  the  stricter  and 
the  looser  predestinarians  were  divided  as  to  the 
conditionality  of  the  covenant  of  grace.  The 
stricter  predestinarians  denied  that  it  was  con- 
ditional at  all.  Like  Ussher,  they  held  that  God 
alone  was  its  author,  or,  at  most,  God  and  Christ. 
Representatives  of  this  view  were  Saltmarsh  and 
Crisp.  Others,  like  Owen  and  Baxter  himself,  held 
to  a  true  conditionality.  They  distinguished  be- 
tween the  covenant  of  redemption,  made  between 
the  Father  and  the  Son,  and  the  covenant  of  grace, 
made  by  the  Father  with  the  elect  in  Christ ; 10 
and,  while  they  held  that  the  redeemed  were 
enabled  to  fulfil  their  part  only  through  the  grace 
which  Christ  had  merited  for  them,  yet  they 
believed  in  preaching  as  though  all  depended  upon 

1  Cf.  also  The  Marrow  of  Modern  Divinity,  in  two  parts,  1645, 
1649,  by  E.  F.,  edited  with  Introduction,  Notes,  and  an  Appendix, 
Biographical  and  Bibliographical,  by  C.  G.  M'Crie,  1902.  The 
sub-title  of  this  'epoch-marking,  if  not  epoch-making,' work,  as 
M'Crie  calls  it,  reads  :  '  Touching  both  the  Covenant  of  Works, 
and  the  Covenant  of  Grace  :  with  their  use  and  end,  both  in  the 
time  of  the  Old  Testament  and  in  the  time  of  the  New '  (Confes- 
sions of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh,  1907,  p.  69). 

2  Even  more  prominent  is  the  use  made  of  the  covenant  idea 
in  the  Sum  of  Saving  Knowledge,  a  brief  compendium  of  doc- 
trine which  appeared  in  Scotland  in  1650,  and  is  bound  up  with 
the  Confession  and  Catechisms  in  many  of  the  later  Scottish 
editions.  Here  the  language  of  bargain  and  sale  appears  in  its 
baldest  form  (e.g.  Head  II.:  'By  virtue  of  the  foresaid  bargain, 
made  before  the  world  began,  He,  i.e.  Christ,  is,  in  all  ages, 
since  the  fall  of  Adam,  still  upon  the  work  of  applying  actually 
the  purchased  benefits  unto  the  elect :  and  that  He  doth  by  way 
of  entertaining  a  covenant  of  free  grace  and  reconciliation  with 
them  through  faith  in  Himself,  by  which  covenant  He  makes 
over  to  ever}'  believer,  a  right  and  interest  in  Himself,  and  in 
all  His  blessings.' 

3  Cf.  his  Plain  Scripture  Proof  of  Infants'  Church-Member- 
ship and  Baptism*,  London,  1656  (pp.  100ff.,  112ff.,  223£f., 
326  ff .),  as  well  as  his  Preface  to  Allen's  Discourse  on  the  Nature, 
Ends,  and  Difference  of  the  Two  Covenants,  London,  1673. 

4  Cf.  his  Doctrine  of  Justification  by  Faith,  chs.  viii.  xiii.; 
Treatise  on  the  Doctrine  of  Perseverance  (Works,  ed.  Goold, 
xi.  205),  Edin.  1851-55,  Salus  Electorum  Sanguis  Jesu,  or  the 
Death  of  Death  in  the  Death  of  Christ  (Goold's  ed.,  x.  168  ff.). 

6  Free  Grace,  or  the  Flowings  of  Christ's  Blood  freely  to 
Sinners",  London,  1646. 

6  Vindicice  Foederis,  or  a  Treatise  of  the  Covenant  of  God, 
entered  with  mankinde,  etc.,  London,  1653,  The  Covenant 
Scaled,  or  a  Treatise  of  the  Sacraments  of  both  Covenants, 
polemicall  and  practicall,  especially  of  the  Sacraments  of  the 
Covenant  of  Grace,  London,  1655. 

7  A  Discourse  of  the  Nature,  Ends,  and  Difference  of  the  Two 
Covenants,  London,  1673. 

8  A  Treatise  of  the  Divine  Promises,  in  five  books.  .  .  .  In 
the  foure  last  a  declaration  of  the  covenant  itself,  the  bundle 
and  body  of  all  the  Promises,  London,  1633. 

9  Gospel  Truth  Stated  and  Vindicated,  wherein  some  of  Dr. 
Crisp's  opinions  are  considered,  and  the  opposite  truths  are 
plainly  stated  and  confirmed,  London,  1692. 

10  Cf.  Owen,  Doclrineof  Juslificationby  Faith,  ch.  viii.  (Works, 
ed.  Goold,  v.  191). 


222 


COVENANT  THEOLOGY 


the  action  of  the  human  will.  The  tract  of  Williams, 
already  referred  to,  gives  an  interesting  picture  of 
the  questions  in  controversy,  and  the  extent  to 
which  the  stricter  party  were  willing  to  carry  their 
logic. 

That  these  controversies  were  not  confined  to  Old 
England,  but  speedily  found  their  way  across  the 
water,  finds  interesting  confirmation  in  a  treatise 
of  Peter  Bulkeley,  which  appeared  in  London  in 
1646,  and  is  entitled  The  Gospel  Covenant,  or  the 
Covenant  of  Grace  opened.  It  gives  the  substance 
of  sermons  preached  by  its  author  in  his  parish  in 
Concord,  in  New  England.  He  speaks  of  great 
divisions  which  had  arisen  about  the  covenant,  and 
some  busybodies  who  called  the  preachers  '  legall 
preachers,'  and  said  that  they  were  '  wholly  ignor- 
ant of  the  covenant  of  grace,  and  .  .  .  shut  up 
under  a  covenant  of  workes.'  The  reference  is 
evidently  to  the  rising  Antinomianism  which  is 
associated  with  the  name  of  Anne  Hutchinson, 
'  that  wretched  Jezabell,'  as  Bulkeley  calls  her 
(p.  293).  Bulkeley,  who  himself  seems  to  have 
been  a  man  of  moderate  views,  gives  a  list  of  the 
questions  in  dispute,  e.g.  (1)  whether  the  covenant 
of  grace  was  made  between  God  and  man,  or  only 
between  God  the  Father  and  Christ ;  (2)  what  is 
the  meaning  of  the  reference  to  Abraham's  seed  in 
Gal  316 ;  (3)  what  the  covenant  of  Sinai  was, 
whether  of  works  or  of  grace ;  (4)  whether  justi- 
fication may  be  evidenced  by  sanctification  ;  (5) 
whether  the  commandment  commanding  faith  be  a 
commandment  of  the  law  ;  (6)  whether  faith  be 
a  condition  antecedent  to  justification  or  only  conse- 
quent ;  and  (7)  whether  the  conditional  promises 
be  promises  of  free  grace  or  no  (Preface,  p.  3). 

The  theoretical  difference  had  its  practical  effect  in  the 
doctrine  of  the  Church.  The  question  here  turned  on  how  far 
it  was  possible  to  preserve  the  purity  of  the  Church  in  the 
administration  of  the  sacraments  and  ecclesiastical  discipline. 
All  but  the  Baptists  agreed  that  the  covenant  of  grace,  like  the 
Abrahamic  covenant  of  the  OT,  included  the  children  of  believers, 
and  therefore  defsnded  the  practice  of  infant  baptism.  But  this 
position  raised  perplexing  questions  as  to  the  administration  of 
the  other  sacraments.  Since  baptism  could  rightfully  be  ad- 
ministered to  some  who  were  not  regenerate,  why  should  the 
Lord's  Supper  be  confined  any  more  strictly  ?  Why  not  recog- 
nize that  the  covenant  conferred  upon  the  children  of  believers 
certain  ecclesiastical  rights  which  extended  beyond  the  circle  of 
the  elect,  and  be  willing  to  accept  a  dogmatical,  as  distinct  from 
a  justifying,  faith  as  the  sufficient  ground  for  admission  to  the 
Supper  1  This  was  the  position  taken  by  Blake  in  his  interesting 
treatise  entitled  The  Covenant  Sealed — a  position  which  brought 
him  into  a  controversy  with  Baxter,  in  which  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  he  puts  that  sturdy  defender  of  the  larger  liberty  to 
sore  straits  to  defend  his  more  exclusive  position  on  this  point.1 

These  practical  controversies  also  had  their  echoes  in  America. 
The  question  as  to  those  who  could  rightly  be  admitted  to 
the  Lord's  Supper  was  one  which  agitated  the  New  England 
churches  for  many  years,  and  in  the  so-called  half-way  covenant 
the  laxer  practice  advocated  by  Blake  was  long  prevalent.2 

A  typical  example  of  the  Puritan  treatment  of 
the  covenant  is  William  Strong's  posthumous 
Discourse  of  the  Two  Covenants  (London,  1678),  a 
voluminous  treatise  of  447  large  quarto  pages,  the 
substance  of  which  was  originally  delivered  in  the 
form  of  sermons.  Comparing  it  with  similar 
treatises  by  Continental  writers,  we  notice  its 
practical  interest,  which  appears  (1 )  in  the  constant 
application  of  the  points  made  to  the  different 
classes  of  people  living  in  Strong's  own  day  ;  (2)  in 
the  emphasis  laid  upon  the  obligations  created  by 
the  _  covenant  as  distinct  from  its  benefits  ;  and 
(3)  in  its  full  discussion  of  the  covenant  relation  of 
the  children  of  believers.  On  the  last  point  he 
leans  to  the  views  of  Blake  rather  than  to  the 
stricter  views  of  Baxter.  He  claims  federal  holiness 
for  the  children  of  the  righteous  as  distinct  from 
the  personal  holiness  of  regeneration  ;  but  he  does 

1  Cf.  pp.  114,  189.  Blake's  argument  with  Baxter  turns  upon 
the  question  whether  faith  that  is  short  of  justifying  entitles  to 
baptism,  but  the  principles  involved  apply  with  even  greater 
force  to  the  more  radical  position  taken  by  Blake  with  reference 
to  the  Lord's  Supper. 

2  Cf.  F.  H.  Foster,  A  Genetic  History  of  the  New  England 
Theology,  Chicago,  1907,  p.  31  ff. 


not  specifically  apply  the  principle  involved  to  the 
question  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 

(4)  Cocceius  and  his  school. — The  most  eminent 
representative  of  the  covenant  theology  is  un> 
doubtedly  John  Koch,  or,  as  he  is  better  known  by 
his  Latin  name,  Cocceius.  He  was  born  in  Bremen 
in  1603,  studied  Hebrew  under  Matthias  Martinius, 
and  theology  under  Ames  and  Crocius.  He  waa 
Professor  of  Theology  successively  at  Bremen, 
1630-1636 ;  at  Franeker,  1636-1650,  where  he  suc- 
ceeded Ames  ;  and  at  Leyden,  1650-1669,  where  he 
died.  He  became  the  leading  opponent  and  re- 
former of  the  scholasticism  of  his  day,  and  by  his 
more  historical  treatment  of  theology  prepared  the 
way  for  the  later  discipline  of  Biblical  Theology. 
In  this  attempt  he  found  a  fruitful  clue  in  the 
covenant  idea,  which  he  used  as  the  organizing 
principle  of  his  system. 

Cocceius'  leading  monograph  is  entitled  Summa 
doctrince  de  fcedere  et  testamento  Dei,  and  was 
published  at  Leyden  in  1648. '  After  a  discussion 
on  the  meaning  of  the  word  fosdus,  or  '  covenant,' 
he  defines  the  covenant  of  God  as  nothing  else 
'  than  the  Divine  declaration  of  the  method  (ratio) 
of  perceiving  the  love  of  God  and  of  obtaining 
union  and  communion  with  him '  {Opera,  Amster- 
dam, 1673,  i.  10).  It  differs  from  human  covenants 
in  the  absence  of  the  mutual  feature.  God  alone 
initiates  it,  yet  it  becomes  complete  only  when 
man  by  God's  grace  binds  himself  to  accept  its 
provisions.2 

Cocceius,  like  earlier  theologians,  distinguishes 
two  covenants,  that  of  works  and  that  of  grace. 
The  sum  of  the  former  is  the  law,  both  natural  and 
written.  It  is  made  with  Adam  for  himself  and 
for  all  his  descendants,  except  Christ.  It  was 
abrogated  in  a  fivefold  way  :  (1)  so  far  as  the  possi- 
bility of  its  fulfilment  is  concerned,  by  sin  ;  (2)  so 
far  as  its  condemnation  is  concerned,  by  Christ,  as 
set  forth  in  the  promises  and  apprehended  by 
faith  ;  (3)  so  far  as  its  terror  is  concerned,  by  the 
promulgation  of  the  new  covenant ;  (4)  so  far  as 
the  struggle  with  sin  is  concerned,  by  the  death  of 
the  body  ;  and  (5)  so  far  as  all  its  effects  are  con- 
cerned, by  the  resurrection  from  the  dead. 

The  new  covenant  is  the  agreement  between  the 
Father  and  Christ  as  the  second  Adam,  wherein 
God  declares  His  purpose,  in  consideration  of  Christ's 
atoning  sacrifice,  to  save  certain  individuals  by 
working  in  them  faith  through  the  word  of  promise 
and  the  gift  of  the  Spirit,  and  to  confirm  the  same 
by  the  institution  of  the  Church,  with  its  sacra- 
ments. This  covenant  is  set  forth  in  various  ways, 
both  before  and  after  the  coming  of  Christ.  It  was 
made  known  to  Adam  in  Paradise  through  the 
institution  of  sacrifice,  and  renewed  to  Abel,  Enoch, 
Noah,  Abraham,  and  to  all  the  people  of  Israel 
through  Moses.  But  its  most  glorious  promulga- 
tion was  through  the  coming  of  Christ  Himself  in 
the  flesh,  and  the  full  revelation  of  God's  loving 
purpose  which  He  made.  In  this  connexion, 
Cocceius  is  led  to  treat  at  length  of  the  difference 
between  the  economies  of  the  OT  and  of  the  NT, 
and  to  indicate  wherein  the  superior  excellence  of 
the  NT  consists. 

The  novelty  of  Cocceius'  treatment  consists  not 
so  much  in  the  special  ideas  which  he  enunciates  as 
in  the  detail  in  which  they  are  carried  out,  and, 
above  all,  in  the  free  use  which  he  makes  of  the 
Biblical  material.    The  idea  of  the  twofold  covenant, 

1  Later  enlarged  edd.  1654, 1660.  The  covenant  is  also  treated 
at  length  in  Cocceius'  Summa  Theologice  ex  Sacris  Scripturis 
repetita  (Leyden,  1662,  Amsterdam  and  Geneva,  1665),  of  which 
the  covenant  of  works  forms  the  subject  of  the  eighth  locxts ,  and 
the  covenant  of  grace  of  the  fourteenth  and  following  loci. 

2  Cocceius  distinguishes  between  that  form  of  covenant  in 
which  no  condition  is  required  on  man's  part  {e.g.  the  promise  to 
Noah  that  day  and  night  shall  never  fail)  and  the  more  usual 
form,  which  includes  the  stipulation  of  acceptance  and  obedience 
by  man. 


COVENANT  THEOLOGY 


223 


as  we  have  seen,  goes  back  to  Cocceius'  teacher, 
Matthias  Martinius  ;  the  distinction  of  different 
periods  within  the  OT  dispensation  is  recognized  by 
Ames,  but  there  is  a  breath  of  freedom  and  of 
originality  about  Cocceius'  treatment  which  gives 
it  a  distinction  of  its  own.  It  broke  away  from  the 
prevailing  tradition  of  the  contemporary  scholas- 
ticism, and  it  called  forth,  as  such  innovations 
always  do,  bitter  opposition  on  the  part  of  those 
who  sat  in  the  seat  of  authority.1  Cocceius,  tem- 
perate and  devout  as  he  was,  soon  found  himself 
the  centre  of  a  bitter  controversy,  and,  what  was 
probably  the  last  thing  in  the  world  which  he 
intended,  the  founder  of  a  school. 

Among  the  representatives  of  the  school  of 
Cocceius  may  be  mentioned  Wilhelm  Momma,2 
Francis  Burmann,3  Johann  Braun,4  Johann  van 
der  Wayen,6  and  Hermann  Witsius.6  The  treatise 
of  Witsius  on  the  economy  of  the  covenants  was 
early  translated  into  English,  and  had  many  readers 
both  in  England  and  in  America.  It  is  one  of  the 
best  sources  for  the  knowledge  of  the  covenant 
theology  in  its  later  and  more  developed  form.7 

After  an  initial  discussion  of  the  covenant  in 
general,  Witsius  begins  by  describing  the  covenant 
of  works.  He  takes  up  successively  the  contracting 
parties,  the  law  or  the  condition,  the  promises  by 
which  it  was  accompanied,  the  penal  sanction 
which  was  attached  to  it,  and  the  sacraments  by 
which  it  was  sealed.  He  speaks  of  its  violation  by 
man's  sin,  and  its  consequent  abrogation  by  God  in 
favour  of  the  new  covenant  of  grace.  Like  Cocceius, 
Witsius  distinguishes  between  the  covenant  of  re- 
demption, made  by  the  Father  with  the  Son,  and 
the  covenant  of  grace,  made  by  God  with  the  elect. 
The  substance  of  this  is  set  forth  under  the  familiar 
theological  heads  of  '  election,'  '  effectual  calling,' 
'  regeneration,'  '  faith,'  etc. ;  and  then  its  different 
economies  or  dispensations  in  the  OT  and  NT, 
with  their  several  sacraments  and  ceremonies,  are 
discussed  at  length. 

With  this  treatment,  the  covenant  theology 
reaches  its  final  development.  Those  who  come 
after  add  nothing  in  principle  to  that  which  has 
gone  before. 

(5)  The  later  history. — It  is  not  necessary  to 
follow  the  later  history  in  detail.  Treatises  on  the 
covenant  continued  to  be  written  both  in  England 
and  on  the  Continent.  Ezekiel  Hopkins,  Bishop 
of  Londonderry,  left  the  manuscript  of  a  series  of 
sermons  on  the  doctrine  of  the  two  covenants, 
posthumously  published  in  1712,  in  which  he  de- 
clares that  'of  all  the  mysterious  depths  in  Christian 
religion,  there  is  none  more  necessary  for  our 
information  or  more  influential  upon  our  practice 
than  a  right  apprehension  and  a  distinct  knowledge 
of  the  doctrine  of  the  covenants '  (p.  2).  Thomas 
Boston,  a  Scottish  Presbyterian  (1676-1732),  wrote  a 
treatise  on  the  covenant  of  grace,8  which  was  often 
republished  both  in  England  and  in  America,  and 

1  Among  the  leaders  in  the  attack  upon  Cocceius  were  Samuel 
Maresius,  Professor  of  Theology  at  Qroningen,  and  Gishertus 
Voetius,  Professor  of  Theology  at  Utrecht. 

2  De  varia  conditions  et  statu  ecclesice  Dei  sub  tHplici 
oeconomia  patriarcharum  ac  Testamenti  Veteris  ac  denique 
Novi,  Amsterdam,  1673,  2  vols.,  4th  ed.,  Basel,  1718. 

3  Synopsis  Theologize  et  speciatim  ozconomice  fcederum  Dei  ab 
initio  saeculorum  usque  ad  consummationem  eorum,  Utrecht, 
1671. 

4  Doctrina  fcederum,  sive  systema  theologize  didacticce  et 
elencticce,  Amsterdam,  1688. 

5  Summa  theologies  christians,  16S9. 

6  De  aeconomia  fcederum  Dei  cum  hominibus  libri  iv.,  1677. 

7  Others  who  were  influenced  by  Cocceius  were  Abraham 
Heidanus  (1597-1678 ;  Corpus  theologize  ehristiance  in  xv.  locos 
digestum,  16SG)  and  van  Til  (Theologize  utriusque  compendium 
cum  naturalis  cum  revelatoe,  Leyden,  1704),  though  in  the  case 
of  both  these  writers  the  Cartesian  influence  is  also  apparent 
(cf.  Gass,  op.  at.  ii.  300  fi.  321,  note). 

8  A  View  of  the  Covenant  of  Grace,  from  the  Sacred  Records, 
posthumously  published  by  his  son,  Thomas  Boston.  Boston  also 
left  among  his  papers  a  similar  treatise  on  the  covenant  of  works, 
which  was  published  in  179S,  v,  ith  a  preface  by  Michael  Boston. 


had  the  rare  compliment  paid  it  of  being  embodied, 
with  scarcely  the  change  of  a  word,  in  a  work 
written  nearly  a  hundred  years  later  (J.  Colquhoun, 
Treatise  on  the  Covenant  of  Grace) 1 — not,  indeed, 
without  handsome  acknowledgment  on  the  part  of 
the  borrower.  On  the  Continent,  Turretin  -  gave 
the  covenant  idea  a  large  place  in  his  theology,  and 
with  his  system  it  passed  to  America,  to  reappear 
in  the  federalism  of  the  Princeton  theologians, 
Charles  and  A.  A.  Hodge.3  It  has  continued  down 
to  our  day  to  form  one  of  the  prominent  tenets  of 
evangelical  Calvinism.4 

On  the  other  hand,  Jonathan  Edwards  makes 
little  use  of  the  covenant  idea.  While  the  covenant 
is  occasionally  mentioned  in  his  history  of  redemp- 
tion, the  reference  is  only  incidental,  and  the  idea 
exercises  no  formative  influence  upon  the  structure 
of  the  work.  This  is  the  more  striking  because  of 
the  extent  to  which  Edwards  holds  fast  to  the 
main  tenets  of  the  older  Calvinism.  The  reason  is 
not  far  to  seek.  Edwards'  primary  interest  was  in 
the  eternal  law  of  things.  Not  will,  but  nature, 
was  fundamental  in  his  thought  of  God.  To  such 
a  theology  the  covenant  idea,  bom  as  it  was  of  the 
effort  to  limit  the  Divine  arbitrariness,  was  foreign. 
With  the  stricter  predestinarians,  like  Crisp  and 
Saltmarsh,  the  covenant  idea  had  long  been  simply 
a  form  into  which  the  wine  of  a  very  different 
gospel  had  been  poured.5  Edwards,  before  all 
things  the  original  thinker,  was  not  interested  in 
preserving  a  form  to  which  there  was  no  content  to 
correspond.  To  the  federal  theologians,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  covenant  idea  answered  a  real 
need.  Their  conception  of  freedom  involved  power 
to  the  contrary,  both  in  the  case  of  man  and  of  God. 
In  the  former  case,  it  was  the  foundation  of  human 
responsibility,  and  the  covenant  of  works  was 
conceived  as  a  real  transaction  between  different 
individuals.6  In  the  latter  case,  it  gave  free  scope 
to  the  electing  grace  of  God  ;  and  the  covenant  of 
grace,  as  we  have  already  seen,  had  its  significance 
as  determining  the  channel  within  which  God,  in 
the  exercise  of  His  Divine  sovereignty,  had  deter- 
mined to  confine  the  river  of  His  grace.  God 
might  have  acted  otherwise,  if  He  had  chosen,  so 
the  argument  ran,  but  He  was  pleased  to  do  thus 
and  so,  and  this  sovereign  pleasure  He  has  made 
known  to  us  through  the  gracious  covenant 
into  which  He  has  entered  with  man  through 
Christ. 

It  is,  no  doubt,  the  weakening  of  this  conception 
of  freedom  in  our  day  which  explains  the  falling 
into  the  background  of  the  covenant  theology. 
Arbitrariness,  whether  on  man's  part  or  on  God's, 
is  no  longer  the  prevailing  danger  against  which 
theologians  are  concerned  to  guard,  and,  in  a  world 
of  law,  other  terms  than  those  of  private  agreement 
seem  better  fitted  to  express  the  profoundest  and 
most  abiding  relationships  between  God  and  man. 
It  would,  however,  be  a  mistake  to  minimize  the 
services  rendered  by  the  covenant  theology  to 
Christian  progress.  Artificial  in  its  account  of  the 
relation  between  God  and  man,  it  was  in  reality 

*  Edinburgh,  1818.  Among  others  to  whom  the  author  ex- 
presses his  indebtedness  are  the  following,  not  hitherto  men- 
tioned in  this  art. :  Cloppenburg,  Moor,  Erskine,  Brown,  Hervey, 
Gib,  Muirhead,  and  Gill. 

2  Francis  Turretin,  Institutio  Theologize  Elencticce,  Geneva, 
1679-85  (Opera,  New  York,  1847,  i.  613ff.,  Locus  viii. ;  ii. 
151  ff.,  Locus  xii.). 

s  Charles  Hodge,  Systematic  Theology,  New  York,  1871-73,  ii. 
117  ff.,  354  ff.;  A.  A.  Hodge,  Outlines  of  Theology,  rewritten  and 
enlarged,  New  York,  1879,  pp.  309  £f.,  367  ff. 

4  Cf.  the  use  of  the  covenant  idea  by  Timothy  Dwight,  in  his 
Theology,  Explained  and  Defended  (Middletown,  1818,  i.  437, 
ii.  207  £f.). 

5  Heppe  (op.  cit.  i.  143ff.)  calls  attention  to  the  difference  of 
interest  which  separated  the  early  covenant  theologians  from  the 
stricter  predestinarians,  with  whose  teaching  their  system  had  so 
much  else  in  common. 

6  This  interest  appears  with  special  clearness  in  the  American 
federalists.    Cf.  A.  A.  Hodge,  op.  cit.  p.  310 f..  Questions  5,  9. 


224 


COVETOUSNESS— COW  (Hindu) 


designed  as  a  protest  against  arbitrariness.  Un- 
trustworthy in  its  view  of  the  development  of  the 
Biblical  religion,  it  helped  to  prepare  the  way  for  a 
more  scientific  treatment  of  the  Biblical  history. 
To  its  more  earnest  advocates  the  covenant  theo- 
logy, as  distinct  from  the  type  of  thought  which  it 
opposed,  expressed  the  difference  between  a  God 
whose  purpose  was  known  and  whose  character 
could  be  trusted,  and  a  God  whose  nature  was 
mysterious  and  whose  actions  were  unpredictable. 
Few  terms  were  richer  in  experimental  significance 
to  those  who  had  been  trained  to  understand  it 
than  that  which  gives  its  title  to  this  article,  for 
none  more  fully  revealed  the  heart  of  God.  Writ- 
ing to  his  son-in-law,  Fleetwood,  Cromwell  sends 
the  following  message  to  his  daughter :  '  Bid  her 
be  cheerful,  and  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  once  and 
again  ;  if  she  knows  the  covenant,  she  cannot  but 
do  so.'1  'The  covenant,'  says  Edward  Leigh,  in 
the  title  to  his  Treatise  of  the  Divine  Promises, 
Lond.  1633,  '  is  itself  the  bundle  and  body  of  all  the 
promises.' 

Literature. — The  more  important  works  on  the  covenant 
have  been  cited  in  the  article.  On  the  Biblical  usage,  see  A.  B. 
Davidson,  Theol.  of  OT,  Edin.  1904,  p.  239  fl. ,  and  his  art. '  Cove- 
nant,' in  HDB;  art.  'Covenant,' in  EBi ;  R.  Kraetzschmar, 
Die  Bundesvorstellung  im  AT,  Marburg,  1896;  Valeton,  in 
ZATW  xii.  [1892]  1-22,  224-260,  xiii.  [1893]  245-279  ;  A.  Bertho- 
let,  Die  Stellung  der  Israeliten  und  der  Juden  zu  den  Fremden, 
Freiburg,  1896,  pp.  46,  87  fl.,  176,  214  ;  W.  Robertson  Smith, 
Rel.  Semi,  London,  1894,  pp.  269 ff.,  312 fl.,  479 fl.;  W.  M. 
Ramsay,  art.  '  Covenant,'  in  Expositor,  5th  ser.  viii.  (Nov.  1898), 
321-336. 

On  the  history  of  the  covenant  theology  in  general,  cf.  Diestel, 
'  Studien  zur  Foderaltheologie,'  Jahrb.  f.  deutsch.  Theol.  x. 
[Gotha,  1865]  209  fl.;  T.  M.  Lindsay,  art.  'Covenant  Theo- 
logy, '  in  the  Brit,  and  For.  Evangel.  Review,  July  1879,  p.  521  ff. ; 
G.  P.  Fisher,  Discussions  in  History  and  Theology,  N.Y.,  1880, 
pp.  355-409  ;  M.  Schneckenburger,  Vergleichende  Darstellung 
des  lather,  und  reform.  Lehrbegriffs,  Stuttgart,  1855,  ii.  140  ff. ; 
J.  H.  A.  Ebrard,  Christl.  Bogmatik\  Konigsberg,  1863,  i.  77  ff.  ; 
and  the  relevant  sections  in  the  histories  of  W.  Gass  (Gesch.  der 
prot.  Dogmatik  in  ihrem  Zusammenhange  mit  der  Theol.  uber- 
haupt,  Berlin,  1857,  ii.  234  fl.),  and  A.  Schweizer  (Die  Glaubens- 
lehre  der  evangel. -reform.  Eirche,  Zurich,  1844,  i.  103  ff.).  Cf. 
also  Emanuel  Graf  von  Korff,  Die  Anfdnge  der  Foderaltheologie 
und  ihre  erste  Ausgestaltung  in  Zurich  und  Holland,  Bonn,  190S. 

The  most  reliable  account  of  the  beginnings  of  the  covenant 
theology  in  Germany  is  found  in  H.  Heppe,  Dogmatik  des 
deutschen  Protestantismus  im  16ten  Jahrhundert,  Gotha,  1857, 
i.  139  ff.,  188  ff.,  in  which  a  full  description  is  given  of  the 
content  of  many  works  otherwise  inaccessible  to  English 
readers.  The  theology  of  Oocceius  and  his  school  is  fully  dis- 
cussed in  the  works  of  Gass  and  of  Diestel,  already  mentioned, 
where  references  to  the  literature  may  be  found.  On  the 
covenant  theology  in  Puritanism,  cf.  C.  G.  M'Crie,  The  Confes- 
sions of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh,  1907,  p.  66 ff.;  A.  F. 
Mitchell,  The  Theology  of  tlic  Reformed  Church,  with  special 
reference  to  the  Westminster  Standards  (in  Report  of  Proceedings 
of  the  Second  General  Council  of  the  Presbyterian  Churches, 
1880,  p.  477). 

Besides  the  works  cited  in  the  text  may  be  mentioned 
F.  Gomarus,  De  Fcedere  Dei,  1594 ;  Wendelin,  Systema 
Majus,  1656  ;  J.  Ball,  Treatise  on  the  Covenant  of  Grace,  1645  ; 
Burgess,  Vindicios  Legis  (referred  to  by  Blake,  in  his  Covenant 
Sealed) ;  Cotton,  The  Covenant  of  God's  Free  Grace  (1645) ; 
and  S.  Charnock,  Discourse  of  God's  being  the  Author  of 
Reconciliation  (Nichol's  ed.  of  the  Puritans),  iii.  371  ff.  H. 
Malcom,  in  his  Theological  Index  (references  to  the  principal 
works  in  every  department  of  religious  literature),  Boston, 
1868),  p.  130,  gives  the  titles  of  a  number  of  works  not  acces- 
sible to  the  present  writer,  but  without  exact  description  (e.g. 
Hulsemann,  De  Facto  Dei ;  Musaeus,  De  Pactis  Dei  cum 
Hominibus ;  Bostock,  On  the  Covenant  of  Grace ;  Bell,  Covenant 
of  Grace  and  of  Works  ;  Dixon,  Nature  of  the  Two  Covenants ; 
Taylor,  On  the  Covenant  of  Grace  ;  Kelley,  The  Divine  Cove- 
nants, etc.). 

A  good  monograph  on  the  history  of  the  covenant  theology  is 
still  a  desideratum.  W.  ADAMS  BROWN. 

COVETOUSNESS.— Covetousness  in  its  most 
general  meaning  expresses  an  eager  desire  to  gain 
some  possession  on  which  the  heart  is  set.  At  first 
the  desire,  though  strong,  may  be  innocent  and 
even  commendable.  •  Thus  Caxton  says  (Geoffrey 
de  la  Tour-Landry,  I.  ii. ) :  '  She  ever  coveyted  the 
pees  and  love  of  her  lord,'  and  Shakespeare  re- 
presents the  King  in  Henry  v.  (Act  iv.  Sc.  3)  as 
saying: 

1  Letter  199,  Carlyle's  edition,  quoted  by  Lindsay,  in  Brit,  and 
For.  Evangel.  Rev.,  July  1S79,  p.  521  ff. 


'  By  Jove,  I  am  not  covetous  for  gold, 
Nor  care  1  who  doth  feed  upon  my  cost ; 
It  yearns  me  not  if  men  my  garments  wear  ; 
Such  outward  things  dwell  not  in  my  desires  : 
But  if  it  he  a  sin  to  covet  honour, 
I  am  the  most  offending  soul  alive.' 

In  the  AV  of  the  Bible  the  word  '  covet '  is  com- 
monly of  evil  significance,  but  it  is  also  used  to 
translate  words  of  good  import.  Thus  in  1  Co 
1231  we  have  St.  Paul's  exhortation,  '  Covet  [RV 
"Desire"]  earnestly  the  best  gifts.'  Keen  desire, 
however,  was  usually  associated  with  unworthy 
objects,  and  Hobbes  (Leviathan,  I.  vi.  26)  went  so 
far  as  to  declare :  '  Desire  of  Riches  [is  called] 
Covetousnesse  :  a  name  used  alwayes  in  significa- 
tion of  blame.' 

In  distinction  from  avarice  (q.v.),  covetousness 
emphasizes  the  desire  for  things  not  possessed ; 
avarice,  the  undue  retention  of  actual  possessions. 
Thus,  in  covetousness  the  very  desire  may  consti- 
tute an  evil,  and  possibly  St.  Paul,  in  his  declara- 
tion of  the  way  in  which  sin  came  home  to  him 
(Ro77ff,))  dwells  upon  the  part  played  by  the  Tenth 
Commandment  in  the  process,  because  inordinate 
desires  are  there  condemned.  The  possessions 
sought  may  not  be  an  evil  in  themselves,  but  the 
heart's  desire  may  be  unduly  set  upon  them.  An 
all-absorbing  passion  for  material  possessions  may 
be  restrained  by  the  experience  of  their  inability  to 
constitute  real  happiness  in  life,  and  by  the  know- 
ledge that,  sooner  or  later,  all  material  things 
must  be  left  behind  at  death ;  but  this  passion  is 
effectively  curbed  only  when  a  still  more  passionate 
desire  for  the  nobler  possessions  of  mind  and  spirit 
and  life  lays  hold  of  the  heart. 

The  evil  in  covetousness  may  be  due,  however, 
not  merely  to  the  strength  of  the  desire,  but  to  the 
fact  that  the  object  of  desire  is  the  possession  oi 
some  one  else.  It  may  be  noble  to  seek  to  possess 
the  spiritual  insight  or  the  Christian  grace  of 
another,  for  the  imparting  of  such  a  gift  ennobles 
and  enriches  both  giver  and  receiver ;  but  to  desire 
a  neighbour's  land  or  goods  is  to  seek  his  im- 
poverishment. When  Ahab  coveted  Naboth's  vine- 
yard (1  K  21),  and  David  coveted  Uriah's  wife 
(2  S  11),  they  fell  into  deadly  sin,  and  similar 
desires  bring  shame  and  guilt  on  those  who  cherish 
them.  When  these  desires  are  expressed  in  acts, 
they  are  condemned  by  the  law  as  crimes.  True 
restraint  is  exercised  only  when  the  rights  of  others 
are  recognized  and  honoured. 

The  very  spring  of  covetousness  is  found  in  the 
common  experience  that  what  is  not  possessed 
seems  always  most  desirable.  The  virtues  and 
defects  of  actual  possessions  are  known  by  the 
owners,  but  the  blessings  that  are  beyond  reach 
are  painted  by  the  imagination  in  glowing  colours, 
and  incite  the  heart  to  ardent  desire.  This  tendency 
has  led  to  some  noble  achievements,  but  it  is  also 
the  source  of  amusing  comedies,  and  of  many  of  the 
deepest  tragedies  of  life.  The  very  opposite  state 
of  mind  is  happily  represented  in  the  reply  that 
James  Smetham  gave  to  a  friend  when  he  was 
asked  to  go  to  Rome  and  Venice  : 

'I  suppose  I  ought  to  wish  to  go  with  you  to  Rome  and 
Venice.  .  .  .  Nothing  but  a  sense  of  duty  will  ever  drive  me  to 
Rome  and  Venice.  My  difficulty  is  to  appreciate  our  little  back- 
garden,  our  copper  beech,  our  weeping  ash,  our  little  nailed-up 
rose  tree,  and  twisting  yellow  creepers'  (Letters  of  James 
Smetham,  London,  1892,  p.  86  f.). 

Literature. — H.  L.  Martensen,  Christian  Ethics  (General), 
Edin.  1885,  p.  106 ff.;  Newman  Smyth,  Christian  Ethics, 
Edin.  1902,  p.  365  ;  J.  Oswald  Dykes,  The  Manifesto  cf  the 
King,  London,  1887,  p.  450.  D.  MACRAE  TOD. 

COW  (Hindu).1— The  belief  in  the  sanctity  of 
the  cow,  which  is  a  very  prominent  feature  of 
Hinduism,  seems  to  have  been  inherited  by  the 
Indians  from  pre-historic  times,  before  they  and 

1  For  the  place  of  the  cow  in  other  religions,  see  art.  Animus 
in  vol.  i.  p.  506  ff. 


COW  (Hindu) 


226 


the  Iranians  had  separated.  In  the  Avesta1  we 
meet  with  a  Divine  being  called  geus  urvan  (or 
Goshurun),  lit.  '  the  soul  of  the  cow,'  who  is  re- 
garded as  the  personification  and  guardian  of 
living  heings.  Similarly,  in  the  Rigveda  the 
mystical  relation  between  the  cow  and  the  uni- 
verse is  several  times  alluded  to.3  It  is  further 
developed  in  the  Atharvaveda,  one  hymn  of  which 
(x.  10)  is  addressed  to  Vasa,  the  prototype  of  cows, 
and  a  kind  of  generating  principle  of  the  universe  ; 
and  another  (iv.  11)  to  Anadvan,  the  primeval  ox, 
to  whom  a  similar  function  is  attributed.  In  Vedic 
times  the  word  go,  '  cow,'  was  used  to  express  some 
other  ideas,  not  merely  in  an  allegorical  way,  but 
rather  in  a  mystical  sense  so  as  to  suggest  a 
mysterious  connexion  between  them  and  the  cow. 
Thus  in  the  Naighantuka  (the  ancient  list  of  Vedic 
synonyms,  on  which  Yaska  commented  in  the 
Nirukta)  the  word  go,  which  originally  and  usually 
denotes  '  cow,'  is  given  as  a  synonym  of  (1)  earth, 
(2)  heaven,  (3)  rays  of  light,  (4)  speech,  and  (5) 
singer.3  The  Earth  especially  was  conceived  under 
the  figure  of  a  cow,  and  is  so  represented  in  later 
mythology.  This  idea  goes  back  to  the  Vedic 
Samhitas.  In  a  hymn,  or  rather  a  prose  piece,  of 
the  Atharvaveda  (viii.  10),  Viraj,  who  'verily  was 
this  universe  in  the  beginning,'  is  extolled,  and  she 
is  said  to  have  come  to  various  classes  of  beings  ; 
in  paragraphs  22-29  she  comes  to  Divine  beings 
and  men,  who  milk  from  her  things  characteristic 
of  their  functions — the  milker,  the  calf,4  and  the 
milking-vessel  being  stated  in  each  case.  Para- 
graph 24  runs  thus : 

'She  ascended;  she  came  to  men;  men  called  to  her:  "O 
rich  in  cheer,  come  ! "  ;  of  her  Manu  son  of  Vivasvant  was  young 
[lit.  "  calf  "] ;  earth  was  vessel ;  her  Prthi  son  of  Vena  milked  ; 
from  her  he  milked  both  cultivation  and  grain.'6 

This  passage  contains  the  germ  of  a  myth  which 
has  been  fully  developed  in  the  Puranas.* 

*  Prthu,  son  of  Vena,  having  been  constituted  universal 
monarch,  desired  to  recover  for  his  subjects  edible  plants, 
which,  during  the  preceding  period  of  anarchy,  had  all  perished. 
He  therefore  assailed  the  Earth,  which,  assuming  the  form  of  a 
cow,  fled  from  him  and  traversed  all  the  heavenly  regions.  At 
last  she  yielded  to  him,  and  promised  to  fecundate  the  soil  with 
her  milk.  Thereupon  Prthu  flattened  the  surface  of  the  earth 
with  his  bow,  uprooting  and  thrusting  away  hundreds  and 
thousands  of  mountains.  Having  made  Svayarhbhuva  Manu, 
the  calf,  he  milked  the  Earth,  and  received  the  milk  into  his 
own  hand,  for  the  benefit  of  mankind.  Thence  proceeded  all 
kinds  of  corn  and  vegetables  upon  which  people  subsist  now 
and  always.  By  granting  life  to  the  Earth,  Prthu  was  as  her 
father ;  and  she  thence  derived  the  patronymic  appellation 
Prthim  ("  daughter  of  Prthu  '').  Then  the  gods,  the  sages,  the 
demons,  the  Raksasas,  the  Gandharvas,  Yaksas,  Pitrs,  serpents, 
mountains,  and  trees  took  a  milking  vessel  suited  to  their  kind, 
and  milked  the  Earth  of  appropriate  milk.  And  the  milker  and 
the  calf  were  both  peculiar  to  their  own  species.' 

This  story  is  most  frequently  alluded  to  in  classi- 
cal Sanskrit  literature.  In  legends  and  popular 
stories  the  Earth  is  occasionally  said  to  assume  the 
figure  of  a  cow,  especially  in  times  of  distress,  and 
to  implore  the  gods  for  help,  or  to  give  advice  to  a 
king  or  queen,  to  whom  she  appears  in  a  dream. 
Again,  the  mythical  identification  of  the  Earth 
with  a  cow  furnishes  the  basis  of  many  poetical 
conceits,  e.g.  that  a  king  should  milk  the  Earth 
tenderly  in  order  to  get  plentiful  revenue,  etc.  (see 

1  e.g.  Tasna,  xxviii.  1,  xxix.  6.  9  (for  a  complete  list  of  refer- 
ences, see  Bartholomae,  Altiran.  Worterb.  1540  (Strassburg, 
1901) ;  cf.  also  the  Pahlavi  texts  translated  in  SBE  v.  20  f.,  163, 
402,  xvii.  380,  xxxvii.  237  ff. 

2  e.g.  i.  153.  3,  viii.  90.  15,  x.  11.  1.  On  the  cow  in  the  period 
of  the  Rigveda,  see  Macdonell,  Vedic  Mythol.  (=  GIAP  iii.  la), 
Strassburg,  1897,  Index,  s.vv.  'Cow,'  'Cows';  and  Zimmer, 
Altind.  Leben,  Berlin,  1879,  p.  221  ff. 

3  Naigh.  i.  i.  4,  5,  n.  iii.  16.  Classical  lexicographers  attribute 
Btill  further  meanings  to  the  word  go  ;  e.g.  Hemachandra  in  the 
Anekdrthasariigraha  (i.  6)  enumerates  the  following  meanings  : 
sun,  water,  eye,  heaven,  heavenly  quarter,  kine,  ray  of  light, 
thunderbolt,  earth,  arrow,  and  speech. 

4  The  Hindus  suppose  that  a  cow  yields  milk  only  in  the 
presence  of  her  calf. 

5  Harvard  Oriental  Series,  viii.  514. 

6  The  account  in  the  text  is  from  the  Vi^tlu  Purdya  (Wilson's 
tr.,  London,  1864-70,  i.  ch.  xiii.).  More  details  given  in  other 
Puranas  are  mentioned  in  Wilson,  i.  188  ff. 

VOL.  IV. — 15 


Bbhtlingk-Roth,  Sanskrit-  Worterb. ,  St.  Petersburg, 
1855-75,  s.v.  '  Go,'  12). 

The  identification  of  cow  and  speech  has  not 
given  rise  to  popular  myths,  but,  as  speech  is  re- 
garded as  something  Divine  in  origin  and  holy  in 
character,  it  added  to  the  sanctity  of  the  cow, 
though  this  identification  was  perhaps  due  not 
so  much  to  a  popular  association  of  ideas  as  to 
a  chance  similarity  of  sound  between  the  two 
words  go,  'cow,'  and  ga,  'to  sing,'  or  perhaps  gir 
'speech.' 

The  sanctity  of  the  cow,  which  has  been  shown 
to  underlie  certain  ancient  mythical  conceptions, 
has  a  practical  bearing  on  religion.  It  was  con- 
sidered a  heinous  sin  to  kill  a  cow  or  to  eat  her 
flesh.  A  well-known  verse '  says  :  '  All  that  kill, 
eat,  and  permit  the  slaughter  of,  cows,  rot  in  hell 
for  as  many  years  as  there  are  hairs  on  the  body  of 
the  cow  so  slain.'  The  same  feeling  is  already 
present,  but  not  yet  so  strongly  developed,  in 
Vedic  times.  The  Satapatha  Brahmana,  when 
prohibiting  the  eating  of  the  flesh  of  the  cow 
(iii.  1,  2,  21),  adds  the  interesting  statement : 
'Yajnavalkya  said:  "I,  for  one,  eat  it,  provided 
that  it  is  tender. " '  And  the  Grhya  Sutras  permit 
the  slaughter  of  a  cow  on  the  arrival  of  a  guest, 
especially  at  a  wedding  or  a  sacrifice.  But  this 
ancient  practice  was  given  up  in  later  times,  when 
substitutes  for  the  flesh  of  a  cow  became  the  rule 
in  the  entertainment  of  guests.2 

In  the  Great  Epic  the  sacredness  of  the  cow  is  a 
firmly  established  fact.  Chapters  69-82  of  the 
Anusdsana  parvan  of  the  Mahabharata,'  which 
chiefly  treat  of  the  giving  of  cows  and  the  merit 
acquired  by  it,  contain  much  curious  information 
about  the  religious  ideas  regarding  the  cow,  which 
became  deeply  engrained  in  the  Hindu  mind 
through  the  superstitious  veneration  of  the  cow. 
The  reason  alleged  for  its  sacredness  is  that 
cows  are  the  essential  requisites  for  sacrifice, 
and  that  '  with  their  milk  and  with  the  Havis 
manufactured  therefrom  they  uphold  all  creatures 
of  the  universe '  (81.  2) ;  they  are  themselves  sacred 
and  capable  of  cleansing  others.  Not  only  are  the 
cows  themselves  sacred,  but  the  five  products  of 
the  cow  (panchagavya) — milk,  curds,  ghi,  dung, 
and  urine — are  means  of  purifying  man,  and  are 
used  in  many  ways  for  that  purpose,  some  of 
which  are  rather  disgusting.  But  the  pious  are 
told  'never  to  feel  any  repugnance  for  the  urine 
and  the  dung  of  the  cow '  (ib.  78.  17).  A  curious 
myth  relating  to  the  latter  item  is  told  in  the 
Mahabliarata  (xiii.  82) : 

£ri,  the  goddess  of  Fortune,  who  had  left  the  demons  for  the 
gods,  came  to  the  cows,  desiring  to  reside  in  them.  They 
would,  however,  have  nothing  to  do  with  that  fickle  deity,  but 
in  the  end  they  were  moved  by  her  entreaties  and  consented  to 
honour  her  :  '  Do  thou  live  in  our  urine  and  dung  ;  both  these 
are  sacred,  O  auspicious  goddess  I '   ■ 

Cows  are  the  daughters  of  the  heavenly  Surabhi 
('the  fragrant  one,'  so  called  from  the  peculiar 
smell  of  cows),  who  was  created  by  Prajapati  from 
his  breath  (Satapatha  Brahmana,  vii.  5.  2,  6). 
This  notion  gives  rise  to  the  following  myth  :  * 

'  Daksa  the  creator,  for  the  sake  of  the  beings  he  had  created, 
drank  a  quantity  of  nectar.  He  became  gratified  with  the 
nectar  he  had  quaffed,  and  thereupon  an  eructation  came  out, 
diffusing  an  excellent  perfume  all  round.  As  the  result  of  that 
eructation,  Daksa  saw  that  it  gave  birth  to  a  cow  which  he 
called  Surabhi.'  This  Surabhi  was  thus  a  daughter  of  his, 
which  had  sprung  from  his  mouth.  The  cow  called  Surabhi 
brought  forth  a  number  of  cows,  which  came  to  be  regarded  as 
the  mothers  of  the  world.' 


1  Mahabharata,  xiii.  74.  4. 

2  The  ancient  practice  was  noticed  by  a  writer  of  the  7th 
cent.,  Bhavabhuti,  in  his  dramatical  play  Uttarardmacharita, 
4th  Act ;  but,  as  the  scene  is  laid  in  the  remote  past,  we  cannot 
draw  any  conclusion  from  it  with  regard  to  the  usage  at  the 
time  of  the  author. 

3  We  quote  from  Pratapa  Chandra  Ray's  translation  (Calcutta, 
1893). 

4  Mahabharata,  xiii.  77. 


226 


COYOTEROS-CREATION 


There  is  also  a  cow-heaven,  Goloka,  the  resi- 
dence of  Surabhi.  Once  the  mother  of  cows  prac- 
tised austerities,  and  so  pleased  Brahma  by  her 
freedom  from  cupidity  that  he  granted  her  immor- 
tality and  assigned  her  as  residence  a  region  above 
the  three  worlds,  the  famous  Goloka,  while  her 
daughters  live  among  men.  In  another  account,1 
however,  Surabhi  is  said  to  dwell  in  Rasatala,  the 
:owest  region  in  the  nether  world,  and  to  have  for 
daughters  the  Dikpalls,  or  goddesses  presiding  over 
the  heavenly  quarters.  The  cow-heaven,  Goloka, 
is  frequently  mentioned  in  the  epics  and  the 
Puranas.  It  is  described  as  a  kind  of  paradise,  a 
most  beautiful  place  of  the  greatest  splendour  and 
happiness,  which  can  be  attained  only  by  the  most 
pious  and  virtuous,  especially  by  givers  of  cows 
and  by  their  worshippers.  For  the  cow  became 
the  centre  of  a  peculiar  worship,  with  proper 
mantras  (Mahabharata,  xiii.  80.  1-3,  78.  24  f.)  and 
rites.2  The  devotees  had  to  recite  the  names  of 
the  cows,  and  to  bow  their  heads  in  reverence  to 
them  (ib.  78.  16),  and  they  were  enjoined  to  subsist 
on  the  five  products  of  the  cow,  to  bathe,  using  cow 
dung  at  the  time,  etc.  For  some  religious  pur- 
poses the  devotee  has  to  live  and  to  sleep  among 
cows  in  a  cow-pen,  or  to  follow  a  cow  everywhere, 
as  did  Dilipa  in  the  story  told  in  the  second  book 
of  the  Raghuvamia. 

Lastly,  attention  may  be  called  to  the  story 
according  to  which  Krsna,  one  of  the  most  popular 
gods  of  India,  passed  his  youth  among  cowherds 
and  became  the  lover  of  the  gopls,  their  daughters, 
especially  of  the  lovely  Radha.  This  fact  illus- 
trates the  high  reputation  which  resulted  from  the 
connexion  with  cows,  since  even  herdsmen  were 
thought  the  fit  guardians  and  companions  of  the 
highest  god. 

Reverence  for  the  cow  has  not  diminished  in 
modern  times.8  It  is  well  known  that  the  Hindus 
of  the  present  day  are  filled  with  horror  at  the 
slaughter  of  the  cow,  which  is  therefore  prohibited 
in  native  States  under  treaties  with  the  English. 

Literature. — The  literature  is  given  in  the  article. 

H.  Jacobi. 

COYOTEROS.— The  Coyoteros  are  a  tribal 
division  of  the  Apaches  (q.v.),  said  by  Drake 
(Indian  Tribes  of  the  United  States,  Philadelphia, 
1884,  i.  424)  to  have  been  the  largest  and  fiercest 
of  all  the  Apache  tribes,  although,  owing  to  the 
indiscriminate  method  in  which  tribal  names  have 
been  applied,  it  is  difficult  to  make  certain  that 
other  tribes  are  not  included  in  the  estimate  of  its 
size.  The  original  home  of  the  Coyoteros  was  on 
the  head-waters  of  the  Gila,  between  that  river 
and  San  Carlos  ;  but  they  were  of  nomadic  habits, 
and  ranged  through  Arizona  and  western  New 
Mexico.  Geographically,  they  are  divided  into 
two  groups — Pinal  Coyoteros  and  White  Mountain 
Coyoteros.  The  greater  number  of  them  are  now 
located  on  the  San  Carlos  reservation,  with  other 
tribes  of  the  Apaches.  They  took  a  prominent 
part  in  the  rebellion  caused  by  the  discontent 
which  followed  when  the  Apaches  were  moved 
from  their  tribal  grounds  to  a  reservation. 

The  Spanish  name  Coyotero  is  said  to  have  been 
given  them  on  account  of  the  fact  that  they  sub- 
sisted partly  on  the  flesh  of  coyotes,  or  prairie 
wolves  (Hardy,  Travels  in  the  Interior  of  Mexico, 
London,  1829,  p.  430,  quoted  by  Bancroft,  NR  i. 
474).  Ruxton  (Journ.  Ethnol.  Soc.  Lend.,  1st  ser., 
ii.  95  [1850])  calls  them  coyoteros,  or  '  wolf -eaters. ' 
It  is  suggested,  however,  that  the  name  may  have 
been  derived  from  their  roving  and  unsettled 
habits  (Hodge,  Handbook,  p.  356).      Among  the 

i  Mahabharata,  iii.  102.  For  other  references  to  Goloka,  see 
B6htIingk-Roth,  s.v. 

OCX.,  further,  Hillebrandt,  Rituattit.  (=  01 AP  iii.  2),  Strass- 
burg,  1897,  p.  83. 

3  See  the  very  full  discussion  of  this  subject  in  PR  ii.  226  ff. 


Tonto  Apaches  they  are  known  as  Palawi  or 
Pawilkna  (Gatschet,  Yuma-Spr.  i.  [1883]  371,  411 ; 
ZE  xv.  123),  while  the  Navaho  name  for  them  was 
Silkd,  '  on  the  mountain '  (ten  Kate,  Synonymic, 
Amsterdam,  1884,  p.  6). 

In  culture  they  did  not  differ  materially  from 
the  other  Apaches.  Among  the  Apache  tribes 
themselves,  distinctions  were  recognized  in  the 
character  of  the  weapons,  the  distinguishing  mark 
of  the  Coyoteros  being  the  method  of  winging  the 
arrows.  These  bore  three  feathers  on  the  shaft, 
which  was  of  reed,  finished  with  hard  wood  and 
tipped  with  iron  or  flint  (Cremony,  Life  among  the 
Apaches2,  San  Francisco,  1877,  p.  103).  Like  other 
members  of  the  Athapascan  linguistic  stock,  they 
readily  assimilated  the  culture  of  neighbouring 
tribes;  and,  just  as  the  Lipan  followed  the  Co- 
manche, the  Pinal  Coyoteros  showed  traces  of 
Pueblo  customs.  Their  nomadic  habits,  as  well 
as  the  character  of  the  country,  were  unfavourable 
to  any  great  advance  in  civilization,  while  their 
habitat  in  Sierra  Blanca  was  peculiarly  adapted 
to  the  raids  by  which,  like  other  Apaches,  they 
acquired  food  and  wealth.  Their  captives  were 
held  as  slaves  until  ransomed  or  sold.  The  Pinal- 
efios  earned  an  unenviable  notoriety  by  their  suc- 
cess in  this  tribal  pursuit  (see  Bartlett,  Personal 
Narrative  of  Travels  in  New  Mexico,  New  York, 
1854).  Apaches  are  divided  into  clans,  but  these 
are  not  totemic.  Their  names  are  taken,  not  from 
animals,  but  from  natural  features  of  their  locality. 
Affiliation  of  the  clans  in  different  tribes  is  recog- 
nized. Among  the  Coyoteros,  clans  have  been 
recorded,  counterparts  of  which  have  been  found 
among  other  Apache  divisions  and  also  among  the 
Navahos;  while  Bourke  (JAFL  iii.  [1890]  112)  re- 
cords a  number  of  identifications  between  the  White 
Mountain  Apaches  and  the  Pinal  Coyoteros. 

The  Apaches  displayed  little  care  in  the  disposal 
of  their  dead.  The  method  followed  by  the  Coyo- 
teros is  described  by  H.  C.  Yarrow  ('A  Further 
Contribution  to  the  Study  of  the  Mortuary  Customs 
of  the  North  American  Indians,'  1  RBEW,  1881, 
p.  lllf.),  who  says  they  take  the  least  possible 
trouble.  A  hole  in  the  ground  made  by  a  tree 
stump  or  a  stone  is  found,  and  into  this  they  cram 
the  body,  partially  wrapped  up.  The  stone  or 
stump  is  then  rolled  back.  They  mourn  for  thirty 
days,  uttering  loud  lamentations  at  intervals  ;  but, 
he  adds,  unless  they  are  reminded  of  it,  this  is 
frequently  forgotten. 

Literature. — References  to  the  Coyoteros  are  scattered 
through  the  literature  dealing  with  the  Apaches  (see  above, 
and  at  end  of  art.  Apaches,  in  vol.  i.) ;  cf.  also  especially  foot- 
notes, passim,  in  Bancroft,  NR ;  and  F.  W.  Hodge,  Hand- 
book of  American  Indians  (  =  Bull.  SO  BE,  Washington,  1907), 
pt.  1,  under  '  Apache '  and  *  Coyotero.' 

E.  N.  Fallaize. 

CREATION. — i.  The  conception  in  primitive 
heathenism. — The  principle  of  causality  is  a  neces- 
sary category  of  thought.  The  desire  for  know- 
ledge of  the  nature  and  origin  of  things  is  inborn. 
It  stimulates  the  eager  wonder  and  prompts  the 
clamorous  questions  of  every  child  and  savage. 
Primitive  man  is  philosophical  in  so  far  as  he  does 
not  take  things  as  a  matter  of  course,  as  he  makes 
the  phenomena  around  him  objects  of  reflexion,  as 
he  is  keen  to  understand  how  everything  came 
about.  He  is  mentally  a  child,  with  a  child's 
vague  fears  of  the  unknown,  a  child's  love  of  a 
thrilling  tale,  and  a  child's  readiness  to  be  satisfied 
with  any  explanation,  however  grotesque  and 
absurd,  of  the  things  which  arouse  his  interest. 
Curiosity  and  credulity  are  the  characteristics  of 
the  primitive  mind,  and  the  roots  of  all  mythology, 
which  has  not  inaptly  been  called  '  primitive  meta- 
physics. '  At  the  same  time  it  has  to  be  remembered 
that  the  childhood  of  the  race  included  the  maturity 
of  the  individual,  and  in  not.  a  few  creation-myths 


CEEATION 


227 


there  are  features  which  reflect  the  vices  and 
passions  of  grown  men  as  well  as  the  simplicity  of 
children.  The  theories  of  the  savage  are  of  neces- 
sity like  their  inventor,  matching  his  barbaric 
manners  and  customs,  his  crude  emotions  and  rude 
conduct.  Primitive  man  stands  helpless  in  the 
midst  of  a  universe  of  which  he  knows  not  the 
laws,  but  he  is  of  imagination  all  compact,  and 
therefore  never  at  a  loss  for  an  answer  to  the 
questions  which  are  the  subject-matter  of  science 
and  philosophy.  He  can  explain  the  phenomena 
of  Nature,  the  making  of  the  universe,  the  descent 
of  man.  The  background  of  all  myths  is  the 
experience  of  primitive  man  interpreted  by  himself. 
The  tales  he  spins,  the  theories  he  invents,  may  be 
grave  or  gay,  prosaic  or  poetical,  attractive  or 
repulsive,  clever  or  absurd  ;  enough  if  they  satisfy 
him.  He  does  not  know  how  defective  is  his  logic, 
how  riotous  his  fancy.  He  is  experimenting  in 
thought  as  best  he  can,  and  '  the  science  of  the 
modern  savant  has  been  evolved  out  of  the  errors 
of  the  simple  savage '  ( Jevons,  Introd.  p.  9). 

But  the  problem  of  origins  has  to  be  solved  by 
religion  as  well  as  by  philosophy,  though  it  is 
approached  from  a  different  side  and  in  a  different 
spirit.  Man  has  not  only  a  speculative,  but  a 
religious  instinct.  Religion  is  one  of  his  native 
vital  forces,  without  which  he  would  have  what 
Schelling  termed  '  an  original  atheism  of  conscious- 
ness.' No  one  can  manufacture  his  religion,  which 
is  a  native  personal  datum  ;  all  that  he  requires  is 
the  due  exercise  and  cultivation  of  Nature's  supreme 
gift.  It  is  this  element  in  the  common  conscious- 
ness of  all  generations  which  makes  the  search  for 
a  Creator  a  continuous  pursuit.  The  question 
whether  '  the  savage  state  .  .  .  represents  an 
early  condition  of  mankind'  (Tylor,  Prim.  Cult.3 
i.  32),  or  whether  we  might  '  as  well  judge  the  wine 
by  the  dregs  as  primitive  man  by  the  savage' 
(Gwatkin,  Knowledge  of  God,  1908,  l.  253),  may  be 
left  open.  For  in  the  genuine  products  of  the 
religious  sense,  uneontaminated  by  the  fancies  of 
the  mythopceic  faculty,  there  seems  to  be  no  con- 
trast of  high  and  low.  Increasing  research  into  the 
mental  habits  of  the  least  advanced  races  of  man- 
kind now  living  tends  to  demonstrate  that,  side  by 
side  with  the  most  foolish,  tedious,  and  often 
repulsive  myths,  there  is  almost  invariably  a  high, 
if  vague,  conception  of  a  good  Being  who  is  the 
Maker  of  all  things,  the  undying  Guardian  of  the 
moral  life  of  men.  The  evidence  is  presented 
with  adequate  thoroughness  and  with  literary 
charm  in  the  writings  of  Andrew  Lang  and  F.  B. 
Jevons. 

A.  Lang  stands  in  wonder  before  '  the  high  gods  of  low  races ' 
(Making  of  Religion?,  p.  173 ff.).  He  must  needs  smile  at  the 
opinion  expressed  by  Flint  in  the  earlier  days  of  Comparative 
Religion  (in  Faiths  of  the  World,  Edin.  1882,  p.  41S),  that '  at  the 
bottom  of  the  religious  scale  ...  it  is  always  easy  to  see  how 
wretchedly  the  divine  is  conceived  of  .  .  .  how  little  conscious 
of  his  own  true  wants  ...  is  the  poor  worshipper '  (ib.  p.  253). 
He  is  convinced  that  the  animistid  theory  of  Spencer  and  Tylor 
does  not  fit  the  facts.  '  The  high  gods  of  savages  are  not  ghosts ' 
(p.  250).  '  It  is  a  positive  fact  that  among  some  of  the  lowest 
savages  there  exists,  not  a  doctrinal  and  abstract  Mono- 
theism, but  a  belief  in  a  moral,  powerful,  kindly  creative  Being, 
while  this  belief  is  found  in  juxtaposition  with  ghosts,  totems, 
fetishes,  and  so  on '  (p.  254  f.).  Lang  presents  '  an  array  of 
moral  and  august  savage  supreme  Beings';  and  he  believes 
that  '  an  old,  nay,  an  obsolete  theory— that  of  degeneration  in 
religion— has  facts  at  its  basis,  which  its  very  supporters  have 
ignored,  which  orthodoxy  has  overlooked'  (p.  252). 

He  finds  that  '  the  belief  in  relatively  pure  creative  beings, 
whether  they  are  morally  adored,  without  sacrifice,  or  merely 
neglected,  is  so  widely  diffused  that  Anthropology  must  ignore 
them,  or  account  for  them  as  "loan-gods,"  or — give  up  her 
theory'  (id.  p.  229).  He  observes  that  the  idea  of  a  Good 
Maker,  once  reached,  becomes  '  the  germ  of  future  theism,'  and 
he  seeks  the  highest  confirmation  of  his  theory  in  the  religion 
of  Israel,  which  is  'probably  a  revival  and  purification  of"tbe 
old  conception  of  a  moral,  beneficent  creator,  whose  creed 
had  been  involved  in  sacrifice  and  anthropomorphic  myth' 
(Lang,  Myth,  Hit.  and  Rel.  i.  329). 

Unfortunately    this    involution    of    religion    in 


mythology  is  all  but  universal.  When  primitive 
man  tries  to  explain  how  the  world  was  made,  his 
speculative  faculty  lands  him  in  all  kinds  of  error 
and  confusion  ;  his  theories  are  incredibly  childish 
and  whimsical. 

'  Savages  begin  ...  by  mythically  regarding  various  animals, 
spiders,  grasshoppers,  ravens,  eagles,  cockatoos,  as  the  creators 
or  recoverers  of  the  world.  As  civilization  advances,  those 
animals  still  perform  their  beneficent  functions,  but  are  looked 
on  as  gods  in  disguise  '  (ib.  i.  241  f.). 

Bunjil,  the  South  Australian  maker  of  men  and 
things,  is  identified  witli  the  eagle-hawk ;  Cagn, 
the  Bushman  Creator,  with  the  mantis-insect ;  and 
even  Brahma  or  Visnu,  with  a  boar,  a  fish,  or  a 
tortoise.  Among  the  native  tribes  of  America  the 
hawk,  the  coyote,  or  the  musk-rat  is  the  demiurge  ; 
among  others  the  crow,  the  raven,  or  the  hare  plays 
the  chief  r61e  in  the  task  of  creation.  If  the 
Creator  does  not  partake  of  the  character  of  a 
totem  or  worshipful  beast,  he  is  identified  with  a 
wizard  or  medicine-man.  Every  race  has  had  its 
legendary  account  of  the  origin  of  things,  and, 
while  creation-myths  can  never  be  far  in  advance 
of  the  ideas  and  sentiments  of  a  people,  they  may, 
and  often  do,  lag  far  behind.  Keligious  conser- 
vatism makes  adult  nations  slow  to  put  away  the 
childish  things  that  faith  has  once  consecrated. 
If  a  creation -legend  has  found  its  vates  sacer,  and 
been  incorporated  with  the  ritual  of  the  altar, 
scarcely  anything  short  of  a  miracle  is  strong 
enough  to  charm  it  from  the  popular  mind. 

2.  The  conception  in  civilized  paganism.— All 
the  early  ideas  of  creation  are,  of  course,  geocen- 
tric. The  '  earth '  of  which  mythology  oners  an 
account  may  be  but  a  circle  of  hills  and  valleys 
known  to  some  wandering  tribe.  But  the  great 
phenomena  of  Nature — sun,  moon,  and  stars,  day 
and  night,  storm-wind  and  thunder-cloud,  birds 
and  beasts  and  men — are  much  the  same  every- 
where, and  they  form  the  warp  and  woof  of  all 
cosmogonies.  In  spite  of  immense  diversities  of 
detail,  there  is  a  family  likeness  in  the  creation- 
myths  of  the  world.  Nothing  is  more  striking 
than  the  parallelism  between  Hesiod's  savage 
stories  and  those  of  the  Maoris  and  Mangaians  of 
to-day.  The  primitive  mind,  working  on  the  same 
materials,  seems  everywhere  to  evolve  the  same 
crude  and  infantine  speculations  regarding  the 
origin  of  things.  Cf.  the  artt.  on  Cosmogony  and 
Cosmology. 

(1)  Egypt. — The  religious  history  of  Egypt,  ex- 
tending over  many  thousands  of  years,  is  the  history 
of  a  theism  almost  choked  by  an  animism  which 
deified  beasts  and  birds  and  trees.  The  priests  of 
the  temples,  who  were  the  advanced  thinkers  of 
the  nation,  endeavoured  to  be  true  to  the  high 
theistic  tradition,  and  therefore  chose  to  regard 
the  innumerable  popular  gods  as  only  various 
manifestations  of  the  one  Divine  creative  energy. 
Even  the  priests  were  henotheists  rather  than 
monotheists,  worshipping  one  god  as  if  there  were 
no  other,  ascribing  to  him  all  the  highest  attri- 
butes of  deity,  but  without  any  idea  of  logically 
denying  the  reality  of  other  gods.  Ptah,  the  chief 
god  of  Memphis,  whom  the  Greeks  identified  with 
flephjestus,  was  called  by  his  priests  the  '  master- 
artisan,'  i.e.  the  Creator.  At  Elephantine,  in  the 
clay  district  beside  the  cataracts,  Khnum  was  the 
demiurge,  who  moulded  his  creatures  like  a  potter. 
At  Hermopolis  it  was  Thoth  who  made  the  world, 
speaking  it  into  existence.  '  That  which  flows 
from  his  mouth,  happens,  and  that  which  he 
speaks,  comes  into  being.' 

The  following  hymns  date  from  at  least  2000  B.C.  (1)  To 
Amon-Ra  :  '  Hail  to  thee,  maker  of  all  things,  lord  of  law, 
father  of  the  gods ;  maker  of  men,  creator  of  beasts.  .  .  .  The 
one  without  a  second  .  .  .  king  alone,  single  among  the  gods.' 
(2)  To  Ptah  :  '  To  him  is  due  the  work  of  the  hands,  the  walking 
of  the  feet,  the  6ight  of  the  eyes,  the  hearing  of  the  ears,  the 
breathing  of  the  nostrils,  the  courage  of  the  heart,  the  vigour 
of  the  hand,  activity  in  body  and  in  the  mouth  of  all  the  godf 


228 


CREATION 


and  men,  and  of  all  living  animals :  intelligence  and  speech, 
whatever  is  in  the  heart  and  whatever  is  on  the  tongue ' 
(Renouf,  Orig.  and  Growth  of  Ret.  of  Anc.  Egypt,  p.  220). 

In  a  papyrus  at  Turin,  the  following  words  are  put  into  the 
mouth  of  '  the  almighty  God,  the  self -existing ' :  'I  am  the 
maker  of  heaven  and  of  the  earth,  I  raise  its  mountains  and  the 
creatures  which  are  upon  it :  I  make  the  waters.  ...  I  am  the 
maker  of  heaven,  and  of  the  mysteries  of  the  twofold  horizon. 
It  is  I  who  have  given  to  all  the  gods  the  soul  which  is  within 
them.  When  I  open  my  eyes,  there  is  light ;  when  I  close 
them,  there  is  darkness.  I  make  the  hours,  and  the  hours  come 
into  existence.  I  am  Chepera  in  the  morning,  Ra  at  noon,  Tmu 
in  the  evening'  (ib.  p.  221  f.).  And  the  following  is  an  extract 
from  a  hymn  preserved  in  the  museum  at  Bulak  :  '  Hail  to  thee, 
Amon-Ra  .  .  .  lord  of  all  existences,  the  support  of  things,  the 
support  of  all  things.  The  One  in  his  works,  single  among  the 
gods  .  .  .  Lord  of  truth,  father  of  the  gods ;  maker  of  men, 
creator  of  heasts  .  .  .  Most  glorious  one,  chief  maker  of  the 
e>arth  after  his  image,  how  great  are  his  thoughts  above  every 
God  !  Atmu,  maker  of  men  .  .  .  giving  them  life  .  .  .  listening 
to  the  poor  who  is  in  distress,  gentle  of  heart  when  one  cries 
unto  him  '  (ib.  225). 

In  Egypt,  however,  as  everywhere,  the  mythical 
mingled  with  the  religious,  the  irrational  with 
the  rational.  See  Cosmogony  and  Cosmology 
(Egyptian). 

(2)  India. — The  problem  of  the  origin  of  things 
naturally  fascinated  '  the  brooding  mind  of  India.' 
For  ages  the  East  was  '  plunged  in  thought,'  and 
brought  up  a  few  pearls,  with  many  empty  shells, 
from  the  depths.  Some  of  the  hymns  of  the  Rig- 
veda  are,  if  not  monotheistic,  at  least  henotheistic 
in  their  pure  and  lofty  idea  of  creation.  Varuna 
is  praised  as  the  maker  of  all  things  : 

'  Truly  admirable  for  grandeur  are  the  works  of  Him  who  has 
separated  the  two  worlds  and  fixed  their  vast  extent :  of  Him 
who  has  set  in  motion  the  high  and  sublime  firmament,  who 
has  spread  out  the  heavens  above  and  the  earth  beneath.  .  .  . 
This  Asura  [Lord],  who  is  acquainted  with  all  things,  has 
propped  up  these  heavens,  he  has  fixed  the  boundaries  of  the 
earth.  He  is  enthroned  above  all  the  worlds,  universal  king ; 
all  the  laws  of  the  world  are  the  laws  of  Varuna.  .  .  .  Be- 
tween this  earth  and  the  sublime  heaven  above,  all  things, 
O  Varuna,  are  of  thy  creation '  (Darmesteter,  Sel.  Essays,  p.  284). 

But  in  India,  too,  we  see  the  inevitable  conflict 
between  religion  and  mythology,  with  religion 
often  defeated  and  denied.  The  gods  of  the  Vedas 
are,  on  the  whole,  of  the  usual  polytheistic  type, 
and  side  by  side  with  the  majestic  hymns  of 
creation  we  find  a  crowd  of  fanciful,  humorous, 
often  obscene,  myths  of  the  making  of  the  world, 
all  in  flagrant  contradiction  with  every  pure  reli- 
gious conception.  See  Cosmogony  and  Cos- 
mology (Indian). 

The  advanced  thinkers  of  the  Vedanta  accepted 
a  philosophy  of  idealism,  and  carried  it  so  far  as  to 
affirm  that  the  world  of  phenomena  had  no  real 
existence ;  to  the  enlightened  it  was  all  illusion  ; 
only  to  the  soul  which  was  entangled  in  the 
deception  of  the  senses  did  it  still  appear  real. 
Instead  of  explaining  the  universe,  they  explained 
it  away,  and  they  did  not  deem  it  necessaiy  to 
answer  the  question,  '  Who  created  maya  ? ' 

(3)  Persia. — The  A vesta,  the  sacred  book  of  the 
Persians,  begins  with  the  words,  '  I  proclaim  and 
worship  Ahura  Mazda,  the  Creator.'  The  religious 
poetry  of  Persia  does  not  stop  short  of  monotheism, 
while  its  mythology  and  theology  teach  a  dualism 
of  the  most  pronounced  type. 

'  It  is  through  me,'  says  Ahura  to  his  prophet,  Zoroaster, 
'  that  the  firmament,  with  its  distant  boundaries  .  .  .  subsists 
without  pillars  to  rest  upon ;  it  is  through  me  that  the  earth, 
through  me  that  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars  take  their 
radiant  course  through  the  atmosphere :  it  was  I  who  formed 
the  seeds  in  such  a  manner  that,  when  sown  in  the  earth,  they 
should  grow,'  etc.  (Darmesteter,  op.  tit.  p.  288). 

Much  more  poetical  is  the  following  piece,  which 
in  its  eager  questioning  singularly  resembles  Job 
38-39  : 

'  Reveal  to  me  the  truth,  O  Ahura  !    What  was  the  beginning 

of  the  good  creation? 
Who  is  the  father,  who,  at  the  beginning  of  time,  begat 

Order  ? 
Who  has  traced  for  the  sun  and  the  stars  the  paths  that 

they  must  follow? 
Who  makes  the  moon  increase  and  decrease  ?  .  .  . 
Who  has  fixed  the  earth  and  the  immovable  stars  to  establish 
them  firmly,  so  that  they  might  not  fall?    Who  has  fixed 
the  waters  and  the  trees  ?  . 


Who  has  directed  the  rapid  course  of  the  wind  and  of  the 
clouds?  What  skilful  artist  has  made  the  light  and  the 
darkness?  .  .  . 

Those  are  the  things  that  I  wish  to  ask  Thee,  O  Mazda,  0 
beneficent  Spirit,  O  Creator  of  all  things  ! '  (ib.  p.  290  f. ). 

The  theology  of  Persia  teaches  that  from  the 
beginning  the  kingdoms  of  Ormuzd  (Ahura  Mazda, 
'the  Lord  Wisdom')  and  Ahriman  (Angra  Mainyu, 
'destructive  spirit')  were  independent  of  each 
other.  Ormuzd  created  this  material  world  as  a 
kind  of  rampart  between  the  two  invisible  realms. 
Heaven  and  its  lights  were  first  made  by  his  word  ; 
then,  in  succession,  the  waters,  the  solid  land,  the 
plants,  the  animals,  and,  lastly,  man.  But  his 
rival  tried  to  undo  all  the  work,  to  spoil  the  fair 
creation.  He  confronted  light  with  darkness,  he 
pitted  demons  against  angels,  and  to  life,  love, 
virtue,  and  truth  he  opposed  error,  vice,  hatred, 
and  death.  Since  then,  the  history  of  the  world 
has  been  the  history  of  the  conflict  between  the 
two  kingdoms  of  good  and  evil,  wherein  this  earth 
is  the  broad  field  of  battle.  See,  further,  Cos- 
mogony and  Cosmology  (Iranian). 

Lagarde  and  other  scholars  have  strongly  maintained  that 
the  Hebrew  cosmogony  in  Gn  1  is  in  some  respects  dependent 
onlthe  Persian  creation-story,  particularly  as  regards  the  order 
of  events ;  but  it  is  more  probable  that  the  Persian  influence 
on  Israel  did  not  begin  till  after  the  time  of  the  writing  of  the 
Priestly  Document  to  which  Gn  1  belongs.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
the  Persian  dualism,  with  its  eternally  opposed  principles  of 
light  and  darkness,  good  and  evil,  had  its  obvious  parallels  in 
Greek  thought,  and  was  revived  in  Manichseism,  while  even 
shrewd  thinkers  like  J.  S.  Mill  have  thought  that  the  defects 
of  the  universe  can  be  best  explained  by  supposing  the  Creator 
hampered  through  the  insufficiency  and  intractableness  of  the 
materials  with  which  He  had  to  work  (J.  S.  Mill,  Three  Essays 
on  Religion,  Lond.  ed.  1904,  pp.  178,  186). 

(4)  Greece.—  See  Cosmogony  and  Cosmology 
(Greek). 

3.  The  Biblical  conception. — The  OT  has  three 
types  of  ideas  regarding  the  Creation,  embedded  in 
three  strata  of  its  literature.  (1)  The  first  is  found 
in  Gn  24b"25.  The  narrative  has  all  the  fresh  charm 
of  the  ancient  writing  (J)  to  which  it  belongs.  It 
is  full  of  naive  anthropomorphisms,  representing 
God  as  moulding,  breathing,  planting,  walking, 
and  it  undoubtedly  has  a  background  of  popular 
mythology.  But  the  writer  adorns  whatever  he 
touches,  transfusing  old  legends  with  a  new  spirit, 
so  that  '  in  depth  of  moral  and  religious  insight 
the  passage  is  unsurpassed  in  the  OT '  (Skinner, 
Genesis,  52).  There  is  no  attempt  here  to  represent 
the  creation  of  '  heaven  and  earth ' ;  these  are 
taken  for  granted  ;  speculation  is  not  yet  advanced 
enough  to  grapple  with  such  magnitudes.  The 
whole  interest  centres  in  the  making  first  of  man, 
and  then  of  a  pleasant  and  fruitful  place  for  his 
abode.  See,  further,  Cosmogony  and  Cosmology 
(Heb.). 

(2)  Another  type  of  creation  doctrine  is  found  in 
the  Deutero-Isaiah.  It  was  the  mission  of  this 
prophet  to  comfort  Israel  in  her  exile,  and  he 
fulfils  it  by  giving  her  a  lofty  conception  of  God 
the  Creator.  He  teaches  that  Jahweh  te  not 
merely  the  God  of  Israel,  but  the  only  God,  who 
brought  all  things  into  being  by  a  free  act  of 
creation.  '  Who  hath  measured  the  waters  in  the 
hollow  of  his  hand?  .  .  .  Lift  up  your  eyes  on 
high,  and  see  who  hath  created  these '  (Is  4012- 26). 
Jahweh  is  greater  than  the  infinite  sea  and  sky. 
It  was  this  prophet  who  made  the  creatorship 
of  Jahweh  a  fundamental  Jewish  belief,  and  it  is 
to  be  noted  that  in  his  doctrine  there  is  not  the 
faintest  echo  of  the  old  creation-legends,  not  the 
remotest  suggestion  of  a  primeval  chaos,  or  of  a 
conflict  between  light  and  darkness,  to  say  nothing 
of  a  slaying  of  'dragons  of  the  prime.'  As  if  to 
lay  the  ghosts  of  all  such  superstitions,  he  makes 
the  God  of  creation  say  :  '  I  am  Jahweh,  and 
there  is  none  else.  I  form  the  light,  and  create 
darkness ;  I  make  peace,  and  create  evil :  I  am 
Jahweh,   that  doeth  all  these   things'   (Is  456-7). 


CREATION 


229 


Pure  religion  has  gained  an  absolute  victory  over 
mythology. 

(3)  The  third  type  of  cosmogony  is  found  in 
Gn  1.  This  majestic  prologue  to  the  Bible  belongs 
to  those  Priestly  Writings  (P)  of  the  post-exilic 
period  which  form  the  greater  part  of  the  Hexa- 
teuch.  Our  interpretation  of  the  opening  sentences 
is  affected  by  our  solution  of  a  difficult  and  delicate 
problem  of  syntax.  Most  scholars  now  read  the 
passage  thus : 

4  When  God  began  to  create  the  heaven  and  the  earth — the 
earth  being  without  form  and  void,  and  darkness  being  upon 
the  face  of  the  deep,  and  the  spirit  of  God  brooding  upon  the 
face  of  the  waters — God  said,  Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was 
light.' 

If  this  exegesis  is  correct,  the  writer  teaches  a 
dualibm.  He  thinks  of  a  dark  watery  chaos  exist- 
ing before  the  creation  began,  and  gives  it  the 
mythical  name  T Shorn  ('the  Deep'),  which  is  evi- 
dently the  Heb.  equivalent  of  the  Bab.  Tiamat. 
This  is  the  first  of  many  parallels  between  the  two 
famous  Epics  of  creation.  See,  further,  Cosmo- 
gony and  Cosmology  (Heb.). 

The  doctrine  of  a  creation  out  of  nothing — ex 
nihilo — is  nowhere  expressly  taught  in  Holy  Scrip- 
ture. The  first  near  approach  to  it  occurs  in  the 
words  of  the  mother  of  the  Maccabees  :  e'f  oik  6Vtwi/ 
(wol-qixev  aiira  6  0e6s  (2  Mac  728),  which  are  too 
definitely  rendered  by  the  Vulgate  :  ex  nihilo  fecit 
ilia  Dews.  The  Wisdom  of  Solomon,  on  the  other 
hand,  distinctly  reproduces  the  Platonic  doctrine 
of  the  creation  of  the  world  '  out  of  formless 
matter,'  0-  a^6pt/>ov  iiXr/s  (ll17).  In  the  NT  the 
Divine  creation  of  the  world  is  presupposed  in 
many  sayings  of  our  Lord  and  His  Apostles,  as  in 
those  which  mention  the  foundation  of  the  world 
(Mt  25M,  Lk  ll60,  Jn  1724,  Eph  1",  He  4s,  1  P  l20), 
the  creation  of  man  and  woman  (Mt  194"6,  Ac 
tfM-M  t  Ti  2i3) ;  and  those  which  represent  Him 
as  the  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth  (Mt  ll26,  Lk 
102\  Ac  1724),  the  Source  of  all  things  (Ro  11s6, 
1  Co  86,  Eph  46),  the  Father  who  through  the  Son 
made  the  world  (Jn  Is,  Col  l16"18,  He  l2).  Faith 
grasps  the  fact  '  that  the  worlds  have  been  framed 
by  the  word  (prj/j-aTi)  of  God  ;  so  that  what  is  seen 
hath  not  been  made  out  of  things  which  do  appear ' 
(fir]  4k  <f>aivo[Uv(t3v,  He  ll3). 

4.  The  Greek  conception. — While  the  old  cos- 
mogonic  myths  were  fading  in  the  light  of  the  pure 
religion  of  Israel,  the  wise  men  of  Greece  were 
turning  upon  them  the  light  of  philosophy.  The 
great  decisive  step  which  the  Ionian  cosmologists 
took  once  for  all  consisted,  as  Grote  and  Zeller 
have  shown,  in  the  substitution  of  impersonal 
causes  acting  according  to  law  in  place  of  personal 
causes  acting  arbitrarily.  Burnet  expresses  the 
matter  by  simply  saying  that  they  '  left  off  telling 
tales.'  This  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  era  in 
the  evolution  of  thought,  and  'history  teaches 
that  science  has  never  existed  except  among 
those  peoples  which  the  Greeks  have  influenced' 
(Early  Greek  Phil.,  1892,  pp.  8,  27).  For  details 
of  Greek  speculation,  see  Cosmogony  and  Cos- 
mology (Greek). 

5.  The  dogmatic  conception. — Till  recent  times 
the  Church's  doctrine  of  creation  was  based  on  the 
acceptance  of  Gn  1  as  literal  history,  and  parti- 
cularly on  an  ungrammatical  exegesis  of  the  first 
three  verses.  Most  of  the  Fathers,  the  scholastics, 
and  the  Protestant  theologians  believed  that  the 
world  was  miraculously  created  out  of  nothing,  in 
six  days,  some  six  thousand  years  ago.  This  was 
a  truth  of  revelation,  which  closed  all  questions. 
Luther  comments  on  Gn  1,  that  '  Moses  is  writing 
history  and  reporting  things  that  actually  hap- 
pened' ('  meldet  geschehene  Dinge').  The  matter 
therefore  cannot  be  treated  speculatively.  To 
reason  about  it  were  profane.  'God  was  pleased,' 
says  Calvin,  '  that  a  history  of  the  creation  should 


exist,'  and  he  repeats  a  story  of  Augustine's  about 
'  a  good  old  man,  who,  when  some  one  pertly  asked 
.  .  .  what  God  did  before  the  world  was  created, 
answered  :  He  made  a  hell  for  the  inquisitive ' 
(Instit.  I.  xiv.  1).  But  the  doctrine  of  creatio  ex 
nihilo  cannot  be  deduced  from  Gn  l1"3,  which 
rather,  as  we  have  seen,  teaches  a  dualism.  This 
was,  indeed,  the  explicit  doctrine  of  some  of  the 
early  Fathers,  who  remained  in  closer  touch  with 
the  Jews,  and  therefore  correctly  interpreted  the 
passage  in  question.  Justin  Martyr,  quoting  Gn 
l1"3,  says  that  Plato  (whom  he  accuses  of  atticizing 
Moses)  and  his  followers  '  and  we  ourselves '  have 
thence  learned  that  '  through  the  Word  of  God  the 
whole  world  came  into  existence  out  of  things 
subjacent  and  before  declared  by  Moses'  (Apol.  i. 
59).  Clement  of  Alexandria  also  maintained  that 
Plato  took  from  Moses  his  doctrine  of  a  formless 
matter,  expressly  referring  for  the  latter  to  Gn  l2 
(Strom,  v.  14). 

But  Christian  thought  could  not  rest  in  a 
dualism,  whether  Mosaic  or  Platonic  or  Gnostic. 
The  doctrine  of  an  eternal  matter  was  seen  to  be 
a  dangerous  rival  to  the  doctrine  of  the  eternal 
Logos,  and  almost  with  one  accord  the  theologians 
of  the  East  and  West  alike  set  themselves  to 
demolish  the  pagan  conception  of  an  uncreated 
OX17.  With  the  LXX  or  the  Vulgate  instead  of  the 
Hebrew  text  before  them,  they  honestly  counted 
Moses  as  a  monist.  But,  though  revelation  thus 
seemed  to  be  on  their  side,  they  still  habitually 
based  their  doctrine  upon  reason.  They  were 
Christian  philosophers  meeting  other  philosophers 
on  common  ground.  Their  arguments  have  been 
restated  in  C.  M.  Walsh's  recent  book,  The  Doc- 
trine of  Creation  (1910).  'God  alone  is  without 
beginning'  was  the  thesis  they  defended.  If 
matter  were  uncreated,  it  would  be  equal  with 
God — a  second  God.  If  there  were  two  first  prin- 
ciples, they  would  be  incommunicable  without  a 
third,  which  would  be  the  ultimate  principle. 
Plainly  the  one  must  come  from  the  other,  and, 
yet  more  plainly,  matter  from  God  rather  than  the 
reverse.  To  be  Lord  of  all,  God  must  have  created 
matter.  If  it  were  uncreated,  the  world  could  not 
be  constructed  out  of  it,  for  it  could  not  be  recep- 
tive of  the  qualities  which  God  wished  to  impose 
upon  it,  unless  God  Himself  had  made  it  such  as 
He  wished  it  to  be.  That  which  is  capable  of 
being  made  into  an  artistic  world  must  itself  have 
had  a  wise  and  skilful  Maker. 

These  arguments  are  certainly  sufficient  to  prove 
the  dependence  of  all  things  upon  God,  and  the 
derivation  of  all  things  from  God.  But  the  affir- 
mation of  a  time — or  rather  an  eternity — in  which 
God  was  not  a  Creator,  in  which  the  universe  was 
non-existent,  is  another  matter.  Some  of  the 
greatest  minds  found  it  impossible  to  conceive  such 
acosmism.  Origen  held  that  before  the  creation  of 
our  world  God  had  created  others,  as  He  will 
create  others  after  ours,  without  beginning  or  end  ; 
that  matter,  or  the  substance  underlying  all  the 
successive  worlds,  is  eternally  created  (de  Princip. 
III.  v.  3-4).  Augustine  had  the  deep  and  pregnant 
thought  that  the  preservation  of  the  world  is  a 
continuous  creation  (de  Civ.  Dei,  xii.  25).  Scotus 
Erigena,  the  profoundest  thinker  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  taught  that  God's  working  is  equally  eternal 
with  His  being ;  that  creation  is  involved  in  His 
essence  ;  that  He  necessarily  manifests  Himself  in 
the  world  ;  that  He  precedes  it  not  in  time  but  only 
in  the  idea,  as  its  cause  (de  Divisione  Naturm,  iii. 
25).  Thomas  Aquinas  confessed  that  reason  could 
only  be  satisfied  with  the  assumption  that  the  world 
had  no  beginning  ;  that,  God  being  the  sufficiens 
causa  mundi,  the  cause  must  apparently  always 
have  its  effect ;  and  that  the  doctrine  of  a  begin- 
ning, or  the  non-eternity  of  the  world,  is  to  be 


230 


CREATION 


received  sola  fide,  by  an  act  of  pure  faith,  in  defer- 
ence to  authority  :  '  Mundum  incoepisse  est  credi- 
bile,  non  autem  demonstrable  vel  scibile '  (c.  Gent. 
ii.  38;  Summa,  i.  46,  104).  The  Theologia  Ger- 
■manica  has  this  profound  passage  :  '  It  belongeth 
unto  the  Will,  and  is  its  property,  that  it  should 
will  something.  What  else  is  it  for  ?  For  it  were 
vain,  unless  it  had  some  work  to  do,  and  this  it 
cannot  have  without  the  creature  (or  creation). 
Therefore  there  must  be  creatures,  and  God  will 
have  them,  to  the  end  that  the  Will  may  be  put 
in  exercise  by  their  means,  and  work'  (ch.  51). 
Jacob  Boehme  likewise  saw  that  a  hidden  will, 
which  did  not  become  present  to  itself  in  the  object 
of  its  creation,  would  not  attain  to  manifestation 
for  itself,  and  so  would  remain  unconscious. 

6.  The  philosophical  conception.  —  Philosophy 
entered  upon  a  new  era  when  it  first  ventured  to 
ignore  and  then  to  repudiate  the  orthodox  doctrine 
of  creation.  For  a  time  it  claimed  its  independ- 
ence very  modestly  and  tentatively.  It  seemed 
still  content  to  bend  the  knee  to  authority.  Bacon 
made  a  distinction  between  '  one  who  philosophizes 
according  to  the  sense  alone,'  and  '  Sacred  Writ' — 
the  former  representing  matter  as  'self-existing,' 
the  latter  as  'from  God.'  That  'matter  was 
created  from  nothing,  we  know  by  faith,'  as  it 
is  '  one  to  which  those  philosophies  could  not  rise' 
( Works,  ed.  Spedding,  v.  491).  Descartes  introduces 
his  revolutionary  ideas  in  the  humblest  tone.  '  It 
may  be  believed,  without  discredit  to  the  miracle 
of  creation,  that  the  nature  of  things  purely 
material  is  much  more  easily  conceived  when  they 
are  beheld  coming  .  .  .  gradually  into  existence, 
than  when  they  are  only  considered  as  produced  at 
once  in  a  finished  and  perfect  state'  (On  Method, 
v.).  Locke  did  not  feel  justified  in  rejecting  the 
doctrine  of  creatio  ex  nihilo.  He  maintained  that 
the  impossibility  of  conceiving  the  making  of 
something  of  which  no  part  existed  before  cannot 
be  regarded  as  a  reasonable  criterion  to  set  a  limit 
to  the  operations  of  an  infinite  Mind.  To  him  the 
existence  of  an  extra-mundane  Creator  was  capable 
of  demonstration.  Its  evidence,  if  he  was  not 
mistaken,  was  equal  to  mathematical  certainty 
(Hum.  Understanding,  iv.  10).  Such  demonstra- 
tions were  numerous  during  the  age  of  Natural 
Religion,  and  Coleridge,  not  without  reason,  com- 
plained that  men  had  come  to  regard  the  relation 
of  the  Creator  to  the  universe  in  the  same  light  as 
that  of  a  mason  to  his  work.  Such  mechanical 
deism  easily  gave  place  to  pure  materialism.  It 
was  Spinoza  who  led  philosophy  into  more  fruitful 
fields.  As  opposed  to  those  mechanical  concep- 
tions, '  the  developed  idea  of  God  as  the  omni- 
present Life  of  the  world,  constantly  operating  in 
and  through  natural  laws,  is  common  to  educated 
theism  with  pantheism,  and  is  what  modern  theism 
owes  to  pantheistic  exaggeration '  (Fraser,  Phil,  of 
Theism?,  p.  83).  Spinoza  regarded  the  traditional 
theory  of  creation  as  making  the  nature  of  God 
arbitrary  and  the  existence  of  the  world  a  matter 
of  chance.  He  therefore  entirely  rejected  it.  For, 
though  his  Natura  naturans,  or  Nature  active, 
may  in  a  manner  be  called  the  Creator  of  his 
Natura  naturata,  or  Nature  passive,  these  are 
consubstantial  and  co-eternal,  neither  before  nor 
after  the  other.  There  is  no  beginning  in  the 
universe  ;  there  can  be  no  end.  The  existing  order 
of  things  is  the  only  one  possible,  and  in  its  in- 
voluntary evolution  it  flows  from  its  cause,  the  one 
infinite  reality,  witH  the  same  mathematical  neces- 
sity with  which  the  angles  of  a  triangle  are 
derived  from  the  triangle.  Fichte  follows  Spinoza 
in  emphatically  repudiating  the  doctrine  of  crea- 
tion, calling  it  'the  root  error  of  all  false  meta- 
physics and  dogmatics,'  which  perverts  the  idea  of 
God  from  the  outset,  investing   it  with   caprice, 


and  changing  thought  into  a  dreaming  play  of 
fancy  ('ein  traumendes  Phantasiren, '  Werke,  1845, 
v.  479).  Hegel  accepts  the  category  of  creation, 
but  fills  it  with  a  new  content.  'God,'  he  says, 
'  is  the  Creator  of  the  world ;  it  belongs  to  His 
being,  His  essence,  to  be  Creator ;  in  so  far  as  He 
is  not  this,  He  is  imperfectly  conceived.  Creation 
is  not  an  act  undertaken  once  upon  a  time.  What 
belongs  to  the  Idea  belongs  to  it  as  an  eternal 
moment  or  determination'  (Werke,  1832,  xii. 
157  f.).  '  God  does  not  create  the  world  once  ;  He 
is  the  eternal  Creator.  This  eternal  self-revela- 
tion, this  actiis,  is  His  notion,  His  definition'  (ib. 
p.  181).  '  Ohne  Welt  ist  Gott  nicht  Gott'  (xi.  122). 
hchleiermacher  felt  that  the  idea  of  a  beginning  of 
God's  creative  activity  places  Him  as  a  temporal 
being  in  the  domain  of  change.  He  regarded  the 
work  of  God  as  Creator  as  one  with  His  work  as 
Preserver,  and  the  two  together  as  identical  with 
the  totality  of  causation  in  Nature  (Der  christl. 
Glaube,  1889,  i.  294-297). 

All  the  English  Idealists  agree  in  identifying 
the  Creation  with  God's  self-manifestation,  which 
they  regard  as  an  eternally  necessary  moral  act. 
'  It  is  of  the  very  essence  of  mind  or  spirit,'  says 
John  Caird,  '  that  it  contains  in  it  the  necessity  of 
self-manifestation  in  objective  form,  and  therefore 
that  which  we  speak  of  as  "the  creation  of  the 
world  "  must  be  conceived  as  the  expression  not  of 
arbitrary  will,  but  of  the  very  nature  and  being  of 
God '  (Fund.  Ideas  of  Christianity,  i.  84  f . ).  Green 
expressed  the  same  profound  thought  more  daringly 
by  saying  that  the  world  is  as  necessary  to  God  as 
God  is  to  the  world.  The  words  of  two  leading 
German  thinkers  will  show  how  the  later  philo- 
sophy and  theology  have  welcomed  the  new  con- 
ception : 

'  The  will  to  create,'  says  Lotze,  '  is  an  absolutely  eternal  pre- 
dicate of  God,  and  ought  not  to  be  used  to  designate  a  deed  of 
His,  so  much  as  the  absolute  dependence  of  the  world  upon  His 
will,  in  contradistinction  to  its  voluntary  emanation  from  His 
nature '  {Out.  of  Phil,  of  Rel.  74).  '  It  is  a  sensuous  representa- 
tion,' says  Lipsius,  '  to  trace  creation  back  to  a  single  act  now 
lying  in  the  past,  or  to  speak  of  a  first  beginning  of  creation ; 
rather  is  the  whole  world-development,  so  soon  as  it  is  viewed 
religiously,  to  be  brought  under  the  idea  of  creation,  conse- 
quently to  be  regarded  as  without  beginning  or  end '  (Dogmatik, 
293). 

We  cannot  do  better  than  close  this  section  ■with 
the  calm  pronouncement  of  the  Nestor  of  Scottish 
philosophy  : 

'  I  do  not  find,'  says  A.  O.  Fraser,  '  that  the  presence  of  order 
and  design  within  the  cosmos  means  that  the  cosmos  must 
have  had  a  beginning.  That  the  universe  should  exist  without 
either  a  beginning  or  an  end  of  its  orderly  metamorphoses, 
does  not  seem  less  consistent  with  the  ideas  of  theism  and 
providence,  than  the  hypothesis  of  its  sudden  creation  in  time 
— whatever  that  may  mean.  .  .  .  We  seem  to  be  born  into 
an  unbeginning  and  unending  divinely  natural  evolution ' 
(Theism?,  pp.  125,  133). 

7.  The  scientific  conception.  —  Science  has 
widened  man's  cosmic  view  and  increased  hia 
cosmic  emotion.  His  doctrine  of  creation  is  trans- 
figured in  the  light  of  astronomy  and  geology, 
biology  and  palaeontology.  His  vision  of  the 
making  of  this  world  at  a  certain  recent  time,  and 
of  the  rest  of  the  universe  with  it,  is  replaced  by 
a  grander  vision  of  the  slow  and  progressive  for- 
mation, by  the  action  of  physical  forces,  of  a 
universe  in  which  countless  new  worlds  are  being 
formed  to-day  just  as  this  one — this  satellite  of  the 
sun — was  formed  hundreds  of  millions  of  years  ago. 
His  idea  of  a  primeval  chaos,  which  found  expres- 
sion in  all  his  antique  cosmogonies  (as  in  Gn  l2),  is 
discarded  for  the  conviction  that,  when  he  goes 
back  as  far  as  the  wings  of  imagination  can  carry 
him,  this  universe,  however  changed  in  aspect,  is 
still  a  cosmos.  And  his  old  belief  that  '  there  are 
just  as  many  species  of  plants  and  animals  as 
there  were  different  forms  originally  created  by 
the  Infinite  Being ;  and  that  these  different  forms, 
according  to   the  laws  of-  reproduction  imposed 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Bab.-Assyr.) 


231 


upon  them,  produced  others,  hut  always  forms  like 
themselves'  (Linnseus),  has  yielded  to  'a  view  of 
life,  with  its  several  powers,  having  been  origin- 
ally breathed  by  the  Creator  into  a  few  forms  or 
into  one ;  and,  that,  whilst  this  planet  has  gone 
cycling  on  according  to  the  fixed  law  of  gravity, 
from  so  simple  a  beginning  endless  forms  most 
beautiful  and  most  wonderful  have  been,  and  are 
being  evolved '  (Darwin,  Origin  of  Species6,  p.  403). 

'The  progress  of  science,'  as  Driver  frankly  ad- 
mits, '  has  brought  the  Cosmogony  of  Genesis  into 
sharp  and  undisguised  antagonism  with  the  Cosmo- 
gony of  science,  .  .  .  and  to  expect  to  find  in  it 
supernatural  information  on  points  of  scientific  fact, 
is  to  mistake  its  entire  purpose'  (Genesis,  p.  33). 
There  is  nothing,  however,  in  the  cosmogony  of 
science  that  is  in  conflict  with  that  conception  of 
'  a  great  and  good  Maker  of  the  world '  which  is 
found  at  the  heart  of  so  many  primitive  and 
savage  religions ;  or  with  Isaiah's  idea  of  a  Creator 
who  '  hath  measured  the  waters  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand,  and  meted  out  heaven  with  the  span,  and 
comprehended  the  dust  of  the  earth  in  a  measure, 
and  weighed  the  mountains  in  scales,  and  the 
hills  in  a  balance ' ;  or  with  the  Platonic  faith 
expressed  in  the  Timceus :  '  Let  me  tell  you, 
then,  why  the  Creator  created  and  made  the 
universe.  He  was  good,  and  desired  that  all  things 
should  be  as  like  Himself  as  possible'  (Jowett, 
iii.  613). 

The  scientific  conception  of  creation  has  import- 
ant bearings  upon  religion.  It  has  at  once  made 
God  greater  and  brought  Him  nearer.  It  has  not 
only  immeasurably  expanded  the  heavens  which 
declare  His  glory,  but  it  has  substituted  the  action 
of  an  immanent  for  the  action  of  a  transcendent 
Creator.  '  The  general  effect  of  the  intellectual 
movement  of  modern  times,'  says  J.  Fiske,  '  has 
been  to  discredit  more  than  ever  before  the  Latin 
idea  of  God  as  a  power  outside  of  nature  and  occa- 
sionally interfering  with  it'  {Through  Nature  to 
God,  147).  The  '  Great  Original '  can  no  longer  be 
conceived  as  a  Demiurge  or  Master-builder,  put- 
ting forth  His  power  once  and  then  staying  His 
hand ;  His  creative  action  is  spread  all  along  the 
line  of  gradual  development,  revealing  itself  in 
ever  higher  potencies.  And  in  place  of  a  God 
beyond  the  stars,  who  created  the  world  once  upon 
a  time  and  then  was  content  with  '  seeing  it  go,' 
we  have  a  Spirit  who  is  '  closer  than  breathing, 
and  nearer  than  hands  and  feet.' 


Further  research  into  the  ultimate  nature  of 
matter  seems  destined  to  upset  many  hypotheses. 

'There  is  nothing,'  said  Lord  Kelvin,  'between  absolute 
scientific  belief  in  a  Creative  power,  and  the  acceptance  of  the 
theory  of  a  fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms.  ...  If  you  think 
strongly  enough,  you  will  be  forced  by  science  to  the  belief  in 
God  which  is  the  foundation  of  all  religion'  (Nineteenth  Cent, 
June  1903).  And  now,  even  the  atomic  theory  of  the  origin  of 
things,  after  a  vogue  of  more  than  2000  years,  is  at  length  being 
Bet  aside,  for  it  is  found,  as  Sir  O.  Lodge  says,  that  the  '  atoms 
of  matter,'  instead  of  being  ultimate,  '  are  liable  ...  to  break 
up  or  explode,  and  so  resolve  themselves  into  simpler  forms,' 
called  electrons,  which  again  are  described  as  '  knots  or  twists 
or  vortices,  or  some  sort  of  either  static  or  kinetic  modification, 
of  the  ether  of  space'  (Life  and  Matter,  28,  32).  Ether  'is 
probably  the  fundamental  substratum  of  the  whole  material 
world,  underlying  every  kind  of  activity,  and  constituting  the 
very  atoms  of  which  our  own  bodies  are  composed '  (The  Sub- 
stance of  Faith,  74).  '  If  any  one  thinks  that  ether,  with  all  its 
massiveness  and  energy,  has  probably  no  pBychical  significance, 
I  find  myself  unable  to  agree  with  him '  (The  Ether  of  Space, 
1909,  p.  114). 

The  scientific  idea  of  creation  as  involution  and 
evolution  has  thus  brought  us  nearer  than  ever  to 
*  the  Mind  which,  like  our  own,  must  underlie  the  material 
fabric,'  the  Nous  of  Anaxagoras.  '  The  process  of  evolution 
can  be  regarded  as  the  gradual  unfolding  of  the  Divine 
Thought,  or  Logos,  throughout  the  universe,  by  the  action  of 
Spirit  upon  matter '  (Substance  of  Faith,  59).  There  are  some 
who  '  recognise  in  this  extraordinary  development  a  contact 
between  this  material  frame  of  things  and  a  universe  higher 
and  other  than  anything  known  to  our  senses  :  .  .  .  a  universe 
capable  of  infinite  development  .  .  .  long  after  this  planet  .  .  . 
shall  have  fulfilled  its  present  spire  of  destiny,  and  retired  cold 
and  lifeless  upon  its  endless  way '  (Life  and  Matter,  199  f.). 

Literature. — E.  B.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture*,  London,  1891 
(41903);  A.  Lang,  Myth,  Ritual,  and  Religion,  London,  1887, 
also  Making  of  Religion2,  London,  1900;  F.  B.  Jevons,  Intro- 
duction to  the  History  of  Religion,  London,  1896,  Religion  in 
Evolution,  do.  1906,  The  Idea  of  God  in  Early  Religions,  Cam- 
bridge, 1910 ;  H.  M.  Gwatkin,  The  Knowledge  of  God  (Gifford 
Lectures,  1906),  2  Edinburgh,  1908;  P.  Le  Page  Renouf, 
Origin  and  Growth  of  Rel.  of  Anc.  Egypt  (Hibbert  Lectures, 
1879),  London,  1880 ;  Max  Miiller,  Introd.  to  Science  of  Re- 
ligion, London,  1873,  new  ed.  18S2 ;  J.  Darmesteter,  Selected 
Essays,  Eng.  tr.,  London,  1895,  also  Le  Zend-Avesta,  Paris, 
1893 ;  J.  Skinner,  '  Genesis,'  in  ICC,  Edinburgh,  1910 ;  S.  R. 
Driver,  'Genesis,'  in  Westminster  Com.,  London,  1904,  7 1909 ; 
J.  Burnet,  Early  Greek  Philosophy,  London,  1892;  J.  Adam, 
Religious  Teachers  of  Greece  (Gifford  Lectures,  1908),  Edin- 
burgh, 1908 ;  C.  M.  Walsh,  Doctrine  of  Creation,  London,  1910  ; 
A.  C.  Fraser,  Philosophy  of  Theism(Q\Sor&  Lectures,  1895-96), 
Edinburgh  and  London,  1899 ;  John  Caird,  Fundamental 
Ideas  of  Christianity,  Glasgow,  1899 ;  H.  Lotze,  Out- 
lines of  a  Philosophy  of  Religion,  Eng.  tr.,  London,  1892; 
Lipsius,  DogmatiW,  Brunswick,  1893 ;  C.  Darwin,  Origin  of 
Species6,  London,  1891 ;  J.  Fiske,  Through  Nature  to  God, 
London,  1900  ;  G.  J.  Romanes,  Thoughts  on  Religion6,  ed. 
C.  Gore,  London,  1896 ;  J.  Iverach,  Christianity  and  Evolu- 
tion, London,  1894,  also  Theism,  London,  1900 ;  Lord  Kelvin, 
art.  in  Nineteenth  Century,  June  1903 ;  Sir  Oliver  Lodge, 
Life  and  Matter,  London,  1905,  also  The  Substance  of  Faith, 
London,  1907  ;  see  also  the  Literature  appended  to  the  various 
artt.  on  Cosmogony  and  Cosmology.  J.   STRACHAN. 


CREEDS    AND    ARTICLES. 


Bab.-Assyr.  (T.  G.  Pinches),  p.  231. 
Buddhist  (J.  H.  Bateson),  p.  232. 
Christian  (A.  E.  Burn),  p.  237. 
Egyptian  (J.  Baikie),  p.  242. 

CREED  (Bab.-Assyr.).— Though  the  religion  of 
Babylonia  and  Assyria  was  practically  homo- 
geneous, there  were  probably  nearly  as  many 
different  beliefs  as  there  were  States  or  provinces  ; 
and  the  creed  of  the  people  became  modified  from 
time  to  time,  either  through  the  progress  of  thought 
or  on  account  of  political  exigencies.  These  changes 
in  the  beliefs  of  the  people,  which  sometimes  bore 
upon  the  nature  of  the  gods  whom  they  worshipped, 
were  in  some  cases  such  as  to  form  either  important 
variations  in  the  original  creeds,  or  transformations 
such  as  might  have  made  a  fresh  statement  of  their 
position  needful. 

Notwithstanding  that  this  was  the  case,  it  is  not 
certain  that  in  any  of  the  centres  of  religious 
teaching  the  priests  ever  thought  of  putting  forward 
anything  in  the  nature  of  a  creed,  as  we  understand 
the  word  to-day  ;  indeed,  no  document  in  which 


Hebrew. — See  'Jewish.' 
Jewish  (H.  Hirschfeld),  p.  244. 
Muhammadan  (S.  Lane-Poole),  p. 
Parsi  (N.  Soderblom),  p.  247. 


246. 


they  have  formulated  the  articles  of  their  belief 
has  yet  come  down  to  us,  except  the  well-known 
legends  of  their  gods  (which,  however,  are  more  of 
the  nature  of  sacred  books),  and  certain  introduc- 
tions to  incantations.  That  they  should  have 
formulated  a  statement  of  their  religious  beliefs, 
however,  would  not  by  any  means  have  been  either 
an  impossible  thing  or  against  their  ideas  of  religious 
propriety.  Often  enough,  and  seemingly  at  all 
periods,  they  declared  their  creeds  in  the  names 
they  bore.  Thus,  in  the  time  of  Lugal-anda  and 
Uru-ka-gina  (c.  4000  B.C.),  we  meet  with  names 
similar  to  the  following :  (S)ur-Bau,  '  man  of  Bau' ; 
Ura-Dunmzi,  '  servant  of  Tamrnuz ' ;  Enim-Suru- 
pak1  -zida,  '  the  word  of  Surupak  is  true,'  or  the 

1  Or  Sukurra.  This  was  the  god  of  Surippak,  or  Suruppak, 
now  Fara,  which  was  the  city  of  Ut-napistim,  the  Babylonian 
Noah. 


232 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Buddhist) 


like  ;  Amar-ASnan,  '  the  corn-god's  steer,'  etc.  ; 
and  names  of  the  same  character  continued  to  be 
used  all  through  the  succeeding  periods.  During 
the  early  Semitic  period  (2000  B.C.)  there  occur 
names  like  Summa-ilu-ld-Uia,  '  if  God  were  not  my 
god';  Summa-ilu-ld-SamaS,  'if  my  god  were  not 
the  sun-god';  Sin-ld-Sanan,  'Sin  (the  moon-god) 
has  no  equal ' ;  Zer-panUum-ummi,  '  Zerpanitum  is 
my  mother ' ;  Yaum-Uu,  '  Jah  is  God ' ;  Nabium- 
Uu,  '  Nebo  is  god,'  etc.  In  Assyrian  literature  we 
likewise  find  such  names  as  AMur-taklak,  '  I  trust 
in  Assur';  Tukulti-Ninip,  'my  trust  is  Ninip,' 
with  its  synonym  Tukulti-dpil-elarra  (Tiglath- 
pileser),  'my  trust  is  the  son  of  E-sarra';  Usur- 
dmat  -  Ea,  '  keep  the  word  (or  command)  of  Ea ' ; 
Sin-SadHa,  '  Sin  is  our  mountain  (of  defence),'  etc. 
Some  names  express  belief  as  to  the  identity  of 
divinities — possibly  in  opposition  to  those  whose 
creed  was  different :  for  instance,  Nab-A-yd'u,  '  Nebo 
is  Jah ' ;  Yd-Dagunu,  '  Jah  is  Dagon ' ;  and  such 
names  as  Yd-dbini,  'Jah  is  our  father,'  form  an 
interesting  series.  The  Babylonians,  like  all  the 
Semites,  were  intensely  religious,  and  seldom 
objected  to  asserting  their  creed ;  indeed,  some  of 
the  above  names  show  that  the  Western  Semites 
in  general  announced  it  boldly,  and  that  what  men 
called  themselves  became,  as  it  were,  a  challenge 
to  such  as  they  regarded  as  heterodox. 

Naturally,  these  are  very  short  professions  of 
faith,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  longer  ones  are 
likely  to  be  found.  Sometimes,  however,  it  seems 
to  have  been  considered  necessary  to  make  some 
kind  of  a  statement  before  beginning  the  utterance 
of  an  incantation.  This  took  the  form  of  a  recital 
of  some  religious  or  mythological  event,  which 
justified  the  mystic  words  and  the  ceremonies 
which  were  to  follow.  Among  these  are  the  stories 
of  the  various  evil  spirits,  the  poetical  description 
of  the  vine  of  Eridu,  and  the  primitive  account  of 
the  Creation  prefixed  to,  and  forming  part  of,  the 
incantation  to  toothache.  The  composition  most 
like  a  creed,  however,  is  that  known  as  the 
bilingual  story  of  the  Creation,  which  is  prefixed 
to  an  incantation  for  purification  : 

Incantation. — The  holy  house,  the  house  of  the  gods,  in  a  holy 
place  had  not  been  made  ; 

A  plant  had  not  been  brought  forth,  a  tree  had  not  been 
created ; 

A  brick  had  not  been  laid,  a  beam  had  not  been  shaped  ; 

A  house  had  not  been  built,  a  city  had  not  been  constructed ; 

A  city  had  not  been  made,  the  inhabitants  had  not  been 
installed  (?) ; 

Niffer  had  not  been  built,  £-kura *  had  not  been  constructed  ; 

Erech  had  not  been  built,  E-anna2Jiad  not  been  constructed  ; 

The  Abyss  had  not  been  made,  Eridu  had  not  been  con- 
structed ; 

The  holy  house,  the  house  of  the  gods — its  seat  had  not  been 
made ; 

The  whole  of  the  lands  were  sea. 

When  within  the  sea  there  was  a  stream, 

In  that  day  Eridu  was  made,  E-sagila  was  constructed — 

E-sagila,  which  the  god  Lugal-du-azaga  had  founded  within 
the  Abyss. 

Babylon  was  built,  E-sagila  was  completed  ; 

He  made  the  gods  and  the  Anunnaki  altogether, 

The  holy  city,  the  seat  of  their  hearts'  joy,  as  supreme  he 
proclaimed. 

Marduk  bound  together  a  reed-bank  before  the  waters, 

He  made  earth,  and  poured  it  out  against  the  bank, 

To  settle  the  gods  in  a  seat  of  joy  of  heart. 

He  made  mankind — 

Aruru  made  the  seed  of  mankind  with  him. 

He  made  the  beasts  of  the  field  and  the  living  creatures  in  the 
desert ; 

He  made  the  Tigris  and  the  Euphrates,  and  set  (them)  there. 

Well  3  proclaimed  he  their  name. 

Herb,  the  marsh-plant,  the  reed,  and  the  thicket,  he  made  ; 

He  made  the  verdure  of  the  plain  ; 

The  lands  (and)  the  marshes  were  the  reedy  bank. 

The  cow,  her  young,  the  steer ;  the  sheep,  her  young,  the 
lamb  of  the  fold  ; 

Plantations  and  forests  also. 

The  goat  and  the  wild  goat  were  dear  (?)  to  him. 

Lord  Marduk  made  a  bank  on  the  sea -shore, 

.     .     .    .  [whi]ch  at  first  he  made  not, 


1  The  temple  at  Niffer. 
s  Or,  '  as  (being)  good.' 


2  The  temple  at  Erech. 


he  caused  to  be. 

[He  ma]de  [the  plant],  he  made  the  tree — 

[Everything]  he  made  there — 

[He  laid  the  brick],  he  made  the  beams  ; 

[He  constructed  the  house],  he  built  the  city  ; 

[He  built  the  city],  he  established  the  community ; 

[He  built  the  city  Niffer],  he  built  E-kura  the  temple  ; 

[He  built  the  city  Erech],  he  b[uilt  E-a]na  [the  temple]. 

Here  the  obverse  breaks  off,  and,  where  the  text  becomel 
legible  again,  on  the  reverse,  it  is  an  incantation  for  purifica- 
tion, similar  to  many  others  in  Assyro-Babylonian  literature. 
It  seems  probable  that  the  other  centres  of  Divine 
worship  in  Babylonia  had  similar  statements  of  the 
creed  held  in  the  place,  and  this  presupposes  theo- 
logical schools  and  colleges  for  the  priests.  At 
present  we  do  not  know  much,  if  anything,  about 
them ;  but  the  temple-libraries  may  ultimately 
yield  information  upon  the  point,  together  with 
statements  of  their  beliefs  similar  to  that  trans- 
lated above. 

Cf.  also  artt.  Babylonians  and  Assyrians,  and 
Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Bab.). 

Literature. — M.  Jastrow,  Rel.  Bab.  u.  Assyr.,  Giessen, 
1905  ff.  ;  T.  G.  Pinches,  '  Relig.  Ideas  of  the  Babylonians ' 
(Journ.  of  Vic.  Inst.,  1895),  Rel.  of  Bab.  and  Assyr.,  London, 
1906,  '  La  Rel.  des  Babyloniens  2000  ans  avant  J.-C  (1st  Congr. 
for  Hist,  of  Religions,  Paris,  1900),  '  Ya  and  Yawa'  (PSBA, 
1892),  '  The  Bab.  Gods  of  War '  (ib.  1906),  '  The  Legend  of  Mero- 
dach'  (ib.  1908),  'The  Goddess  Istar'  (ib.  1909);  F.  Delitzsch, 
Babel  und  Bibel,  Leipzig,  1905,  p.  74,  and  passim. 

T.  G.  PINCHE2. 

CREED  (Buddhist). — Nearly  six  centuries  be- 
fore the  birth  of  Christ,  at  a  time  when  religious 
speculation  in  India  was  rife,  Siddhartha  Gautan\a, 
the  son  of  a  Sakya  chieftain,  went  forth  from  Ms 
home  to  '  seek  after  what  was  right.'  Reverence 
and  affection  for  the  founder  of  one  of  the  world's 
greatest  religions  have  led  his  disciples,  during 
many  centuries,  and  in  different  Eastern  countries, 
to  embellish,  in  apocryphal  literature,  the  story  of 
Gautama's  life  and  teaching.  But  it  is  beyond 
doubt  that  the  scheme  of  life,  religious  faith,  and 
moral  standards  attributed  to  the  founder  of  Bud- 
dhism represents  his  actual  teaching.  In  regard  to 
this  the  greatest  authorities  on  Buddhism  are 
agreed. 

1  When  it  is  recollected,'  says  Rhys  Davids,  '  that  Gautama 
Buddha  did  not  leave  behind  him  a  number  of  deeply  simple 
sayings,  from  which  his  followers  subsequently  built  up  a 
system  or  systems  of  their  own,  but  had  himself  thoroughly 
elaborated  his  doctrine,  partly  as  to  details,  after,  but  in  its 
fundamental  points  even  before,  his  mission  began  ;  that,  during 
his  long  career  as  teacher,  he  had  ample  time  to  repeat  the 
principles  and  details  of  the  system  over  and  over  again  to 
his  disciples,  and  to  test  their  knowledge  of  it ;  and  finally,  that 
his  leading  disciples  were,  like  himself,  accustomed  to  the 
subtlest  metaphysical  distinctions,  and  trained  -to  that  wonder- 
ful command  of  memory  which  Indian  ascetics  then  possessed  ; 
when  these  facts  are  recalled  to  mind,  it  will  be  seen  that  much 
more  reliance  may  reasonably  be  placed  upon  the  doctrinal 
parts  of  the  Buddhist  Scriptures  than  upon  correspondingly 
late  records  of  other  religions'  (Buddhism,  p.  86 f.). 

Oldenberg  (Buddha,  p.  206  f.,  Eng.  tr.)  speaks  to  the  same 
general  effect :  '  On  the  whole  we  shall  be  authorized  to  refer 
to  Buddha  himself  the  most  essential  trains  of  thought  which 
we  find  recorded  in  the  sacred  texts,  and  in  many  places  it  is 
probably  not  too1  much  to  believe  that  the  very  words  in  which 
the  ascetic  of  the  Sakya  house  couched  his  gospel  of  deliverance 
have  come  down  to  us  as  they  fell  from  his  lips.  We  find  that, 
throughout  the  vast  complex  of  ancient  Buddhist  literature 
which  has  been  collected,  certain  mottoes  and  formulas,  the 
expression  of  Buddhist  convictions  upon  some  of  the  weightiest 
problems  of  religious  thought,  are  expressed  over  and  over 
again  in  a  standard  form  adopted  once  for  all.  Why  may  not 
these  be  words  which  have  received  their  currency  from  the 
founder  of  Buddhism,  which  had  been  spoken  by  him  hundreds 
and  thousands  of  times  throughout  bis  long  life,  devoted  to 
teaching?' 

In  the  valley  of  the  Ganges,  the  birthplace  of 
Buddhism,  there  was,  at  the  time  when  the  new 
religion  came  into  being,  a  maze  of  interacting 
ideas,  which  Rhys  Davids  {Early  Buddhism,  p. 
23)  has  classified  as  follows:  (1)  The  very  wide 
and  varied  group  of  ideas  about  souls  supposed 
to  dwell  within  the  bodies  of  men  and  animals, 
and  to  animate  moving  objects  in  Nature  (trees 
and  plants,  rivers,  planets,  etc.).  These  may  be 
summed  under  the  convenient  modern  term  of 
Animism.     (2)  We  have  later  and  more  advanced 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Buddhist) 


233 


ideas  about  the  souls  supposed  to  animate  the 
greater  phenomena  of  Nature,  These  may  be 
summed  under  the  convenient  modern  term  of 
Polytheism.  (3)  We  have  the  still  later  idea  of  a 
unity  lying  behind  all  these  phenomena,  both  of 
the  first  and  of  the  second  class — the  hypothesis  of 
a  one  First  Cause  on  which  the  whole  universe  in 
its  varied  forms  depends,  in  which  it  lives  and 
moves,  and  which  is  the  only  reality.  This  may 
be  summed  under  the  convenient  modern  term 
of  Monism.  (4)  We  have  the  opposite  view.  In 
this  the  First  Cause  has  either  not  been  reached  in 
thought,  or  it  has  been  considered  and  deliberately 
rejected  ;  but  otherwise  the  whole  soul-theory  has 
been  retained  and  amplified,  and  the  hypothesis  of 
the  eternity  of  matter  is  held  at  the  same  time. 
This  may  be  summed  under  the  convenient  modern 
term  of  Dualism. 

'These  modern  Western  terms,  though  useful  for  classifica- 
tion, never  exactly  fit  the  ancient  Eastern  thought.  And  we 
must  never  forget  that  the  clear-cut  distinctions  we  now  use 
were  then  perceptible  to  only  quite  a  few  of  the  clearest 
thinkers.  Most  of  the  people  held  a  strange  jumble  of  many  of 
the  notions  current  around  them.  The  enumeration  here  made 
is  merely  intended  to  show  that,  when  Buddhism  arose,  the 
country  was  seething,  very  much  as  the  Western  world  was  at 
the  same  period,  with  a  multitude  of  .  .  .  theories  on  all  sorts 
of  questions — ethical,  philosophical,  and  religious.  There  was 
much  superstition,  no  doubt,  and  no  little  sophistry.  But, 
owing  partly  to  the  easy  economic  conditions  of  those  times, 
partly  also  to  the  mutual  courtesy  and  intellectual  alertness  of 
the  people,  there  was  a  very  large  proportion  of  them  who  were 
earnestly  occupied  in  more  or  less  successful  attempts  to  solve 
the  highest  problems  of  thought  and  conduct '  (ib.  p.  24). 

Traces  of  the  influence  of  all  these  ideas  upon 
his  mind  can  be  found  in  the  teaching  of  Gautama, 
but  the  current  beliefs  satisfied  neither  his  nature 
nor  his  aspirations.  In  two  authoritative  texts  he 
reveals  the  reasons  why  prevailing  beliefs  were 
impotent  to  satisfy  him,  and  why  he  set  himself  to 
endeavour  to  get  to  the  fountain-head  of  truth. 
The  first  is  as  follows  : 

■  An  ordinary  unscholared  man,  though  himself  subject  to  old 
age,  not  escaped  beyond  its  power,  when  he  beholds  another 
man  old,  is  hurt,  ashamed,  disgusted,  overlooking  the  while  his 
own  condition.  Thinking  that  that  would  be  unsuitable  to  me, 
the  infatuation  of  a  youth  in  his  youth  departed  utterly  from 
me '  {Afiguttara,  i.  146). 
The  other  text  says  : 

'  Before  the  days  of  my  enlightenment,  when  I  was  still  only  a 
Bodhisat,  though  myself  subject  to  re-birth,  old  age,  disease, 
and  death,  to  sorrow  and  to  evil,  I  sought  after  things  subject 
also  to  them.  Then  methought :  Why  should  I  act  thus?  Let 
me,  when  subject  to  these  things,  seeing  the  danger  therein, 
seek  rather  after  that  which  is  not  subject  thereto,  even  the 
supreme  bliss  and  security  of  Nirvana '  (Majjhima,  i.  163). 

After  having  followed,  to  no  purpose,  the  paths  of 
metaphysical  speculation,  of  mental  discipline,  and 
of  ascetic  rigour,  Gautama  reaped  on  one  memor- 
able night  the  fruit  of  his  prolonged  spiritual 
effort,  the  truth  of  things  being  of  a  sudden  so 
clearly  revealed  to  him  that  thenceforth  he  never 
swerved  for  a  moment  from  devotion  to  his  creed 
and  to  the  mission  that  it  imposed  upon  him. 

The  enlightenment  which  Gautama  received,  and 
which  was  regarded  by  himself  and  his  followers 
as  a  victory  over  all  the  powers  of  darkness,  is 
uniformly  described  as 

'a  mental  state  of  exaltation,  bliss,  insight,  altruism.  The 
different  Suttas  emphasize  different  phases,  different  facets,  as 
it  were,  of  this  condition.  But  they  regard  it  as  one  and  the 
same  upheaval  of  the  whole  mental  and  moral  nature, — will, 
emotion,  and  intellect  being  equally  concerned.  Thus  one  Sutta 
(the  Maha-saccaka)  lays  stress  on  the  four  Raptures,  and  the 
three  forms  of  Knowledge  ;  another  (the  Dvedha-vitakka)  on  the 
certainty,  the  absence  of  doubt ;  another  (the  Bhaya-bherava) 
on  the  conquest  over  fear  and  agitation ;  another  (the  Ariya- 
pariyesana)  on  the  bliss  and  security  of  the  Nirvana  to  which 
he  then  attained.' 

In  the  first  of  these  Suttas  the  recital  ends  : 

(  When  this  knowledge,  this  insight,  had  arisen  within  me, 
my  heart  was  set  free  from  the  intoxication  of  lusts,  set  free 
from  the  intoxication  of  becomings,  set  free  from  the  intoxica- 
tion of  ignorance.  In  me,  thus  emancipated,  there  arose  the  cer- 
tainty of  that  emancipation.  And  I  came  to  know  :  '■  Re-birth 
is  at  an  end.  The  higher  life  has  been  fulfilled.  What  had  to 
be  done  has  been  accomplished.  After  this  present  life  there 
will  be  no  beyond."  This  last  insight  did  I  attain  to  in  the  last 
watch  of  the  night.    Ignorance  was  beaten  down,  insight  arose, 


darkness  was  destroyed,  the  light  came,  inasmuch  as  I  was 
there  strenuous,  aglow,  master  of  myself '  (Hhys  Davids,  Early 
Buddhism,  p.  35  f.). 

Having  received  enlightenment,  Buddha  pro- 
ceeded to  Benares.  There  he  met  some  of  his 
former  disciples,  the  five  ascetics,  and  explained 
to  them  the  fundamental  truths  of  his  religion — 
an  exposition  preserved  in  the  Dhammachakka- 
ppavattana  Sutta,  the  Sutta  of  the  Foundation  of 
the  Kingdom  of  Righteousness. 

'  This  expression  is  usually  translated  "  Turning  the  wheel  of 
the  Law,"  which,  while  retaining  the  Buddhist  figure  of  speech, 
fails  to  represent  the  idea  the  figure  was  meant  to  convey  ;  the 
rendering  in  the  text  gives  up  the  figure  in  order  to  retain  the 
underlying  meaning.  The  " cahra"  (Pali  cahfca)  is  no  ordinary 
wheel ;  it  is  the  sign  of  dominion  ;  and  a  " cakravarti"  is  "he 
who  makes  the  wheels  of  his  chariots  roll  unopposed  over  all 
the  world  "—a  universal  monarch.  JOharma  (Pali  Dhamma)  is 
not  law,  but  that  which  underlies  and  includes  the  law, — a 
word  often  most  difficult  to  translate,  and  best  rendered  here 
by  truth  or  righteousness;  whereas  the  word  "  law  "  suggests 
ceremonial  observances,  outward  rules,  which  it  was  precisely 
the  object  of  Gautama's  teaching  to  do  away  with.  Pravartana 
(Pali  ppavattana)  is  "setting  in  motion  onwards,"  the  com- 
mencement of  an  action  which  is  to  continue.  The  whole 
phrase  means,  therefore,  "To  set  rolling  the  royal  chariot- 
wheel  of  a  universal  empire  of  truth  and  righteousness"'  (Rhys 
Davids,  Buddhism,  p.  45). 

The  full  text  of  the  Sutta  is  as  follows : 
1  There  are  two  extremes  which  he  who  has  gone  forth  ought 
not  to  follow — habitual  devotion,  on  the  one  hand,  to  the 
passions,  to  the  pleasures  of  sensual  things,  a  low  and  pagan 
way  (of  seeking  satisfaction),  ignoble,  unprofitable,  fit  only  for 
the  worldly-minded ;  and  habitual  devotion,  on  the  other  hand, 
to  Belf-mortification,  which  is  painful,  ignoble,  unprofitable. 
There  is  a  Middle  Path  discovered  by  the  Tathagata— a  path 
which  opens  the  eyes,  and  bestows  understanding,  which  leads 
to  peace,  to  insight,  to  the  higher  wisdom,  to  Nirvana.  Verily  ! 
it  is  this  Aryan  Eight-fold  Path ;  that  is  to  say,  Right  Views, 
Right  Aspirations,  Right  Speech,  Right  Conduct,  Right  Mode 
of  Livelihood,  Right  Effort,  Right  Mindfulness,  and  Right  Rap- 
ture- 
Now  this  is  the  Noble  Truth  as  to  suffering.  Birth  is  attended 
with  pain,  decay  is  painful,  disease  is  painful,  death  is  painful. 
Union  with  the  unpleasant  is  painful,  painful  is  separation  from 
the  pleasant ;  and  any  craving  unsatisfied,  that,  too,  is  painful. 
In  brief,  the  five  aggregates  of  clinging  (that  is,  the  conditions  of 
individuality)  are  painful. 

Now  this  is  the  Noble  Truth  as  to  the  origin  of  suffering. 
Verily  !  it  is  the  craving  thirst  that  causes  the  renewal  of 
becomings,  that  is  accompanied  by  sensual  delights,  and  seeks 
satisfaction,  now  here,  now  there, — that  is  to  say,  the  craving 
for  the  gratification  of  the  senses,  or  the  craving  for  a  future 
life,  or  the  craving  for  prosperity. 

Now  this  is  the  Noble  Truth  as  to  the  passing  away  of  pain. 
Verily !  it  is  the  passing  away  so  that  no  passion  remains,  the 
giving  up,  the  getting  rid  of,  the  emancipation  from,  the 
harbouring  no  longer  of,  this  craving  thirst. 

Now  this  is  the  Noble  Truth  as  to  the  way  that  leads  to  the  pass- 
ing away  of  pain.  Verily  t  it  is  this  Aryan  Eight-fold  Path,  that 
is  to  say,  Right  Views,  Right  Aspirations,  Right  Speech,  Conduct, 
and  Mode  of  Livelihood,  Right  Effort,  Right  Mindfulness,  and 
Right  Rapture'  (Rhys  Davids,  Early  Buddhism,  p.  61  f.). 

This  concise  statement  contains  all  the  essential 
elements  of  the  Buddhist  creed.  The  great  deliver- 
ance, of  which  Gautama  himself  was  conscious, 
and  the  means  whereby  he  had  attained  it,  formed 
the  basis  of  all  his  subsequent  teaching.  It  was 
this  gospel  of  deliverance  which  won  his  earliest 
disciples,  and  which  they  in  turn  were  commis- 
sioned by  the  Buddha  to  preach  to  suffering  men. 
Sixty  monks  were  soon  enrolled  as  converts  of  the 
new  faith,  and  they  were  sent  forth  as  its  first 
apostles.  In  sending  them  forth,  Gautama  thus 
addressed  them : 

'I  am  delivered  from  all  fetters,  human  and  divine.  You, 
too,  O  monks,  are  freed  from  the  same  fetters.  Go  forth  and 
wander  everywhere,  out  of  compassion  for  the  world,  and  for 
the  welfare  of  gods  and  men.  Go  forth,  one  by  one,  in  different 
directions.  Preach  the  doctrine,  salutary  in  its  beginning, 
middle,  and  end,  in  its  spirit,  and  in  its  letter.  Proclaim  a  life 
of  perfect  restraint,  chastity,  and  celibacy.  ...  I  will  go  also 
to  preach  this  doctrine  '  (iMahdvagga,  i.  11.  1), 

When  the  band  of  believers  was  increased  to  a 
thousand,  Gautama  preached  his  'burning3  fire- 
sermon,  on  a  hill  Gayasisa,  near  Gaya  : 

'Everything,  O  monks,  is  burning.  .  .  .  The  eye  is  burning ; 
visible  things  are  burning.  The  sensation  produced  by  contact 
with  visible  things  is  burning — burning  with  the  fire  of  lust 
(desire),  enmity,  and  delusion,  with  birth,  decay,  death,  grief, 
lamentation,  pain,  dejection,  and  despair.  The  ear  is  burning, 
sounds  are  burning;  the  nose  is  burning,  odours  are  burning ; 
the  tongue  is  burning,  tastes  are  burning  ;  the  body  is  burning 


234 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (BuddMst) 


objects  of  sense  are  burning.  The  mind  is  burning,  thoughts 
are  burning.  All  are  burning  with  the  fire  of  passions  and 
lusts.  Observing  this,  O  monks,  a  wise  and  noble  disciple 
becomes  weary  of  (or  disgusted  with)  the  eye,  weary  of  visible 
things,  weary  of  the  ear,  weary  of  sounds,  weary  of  odours, 
weary  of  tastes,  weary  of  the  body,  weary  of  the  mind.  Becom- 
!ng  weary,  he  frees  himself  from  passions  and  lusts.  When 
free,  he  realizes  that  his  object  is  accomplished,  that  he  has 
lived  a  life  of  restraint  and  chastity,  that  re-birth  is  ended ' 
(Mahdvagga,  i.  21.  2£f.). 

Shortly  before  his  death  the  same  teaching  was 
again  committed  to  the  faithful  Ananda  : 

'  O  Ananda,  I  am  now  grown  old,  and  full  of  years,  and  my 
journey  is  drawing  to  its  close  ;  I  have  reached  eighty  years — 
my  sum  of  days — and,  just  as  a  worn-out  cart  can  only  with 
much  care  be  made  to  move  along,  so  my  body  can  only  be  kept 
going  with  difficulty.  It  is  only  when  I  become  plunged  in 
meditation  that  my  body  is  at  ease.  In  future  be  ye  to  your- 
selves your  own  light,  your  own  refuge  ;  seek  no  other  refuge. 
Hold  fast  to  the  truth  as  your  refuge  ;  look  not  to  any  one  but 
yourselves  as  a  refuge'  (Mahd-pannibbdna-sutta,  ii.  32,  33). 

Gautama  afterwards  delivered  a  summary  of  the 
duties  of  the  monks  who  were  to  be  the  mission- 
aries of  his  faith  to  the  world  : 

'Which  then,  O  monks,  are  the  truths  (the  seven  jewels)  it 
behoves  you  to  spread  abroad,  out  of  pity  for  the  world,  for  the 
good  of  gods  and  men  ?  They  are  :  (1)  the  four  earnest  reflex- 
ions (smfiti,  satipatfhana ;  on  the  impurities  of  the  body, 
on  the  impermanence  of  the  sensations,  of  the  thoughts, 
of  the  conditions  of  existence) ;  (2)  the  four  right  exer- 
tions (sammappadhdna ;  viz.  to  prevent  demerit  from  arising, 
get  rid  of  it  when  arisen,  produce  merit,  increase  it);  (3) 
the  four  paths  to  supernatural  power  (iddhi-pdda ;  viz.  will, 
effort,  thought,  intense  thought) ;  (4)  the  Ave  forces  (pafl6d-bala ; 
viz.  faith,  energy,  recollection,  self-concentration,  reason);  (5) 
the  proper  use  of  the  five  organs  of  sense ;  (6)  the  seven 
"limbs"  of  knowledge  (bodhy-anga ;  viz.  recollection,  investi- 
gation, energy,  joy,  serenity,  concentration  of  mind,  equanim- 
ity) ;  (7)  the  noble  eight-fold  path '  (Mahd-parinibbdna,  ILL  65). 

In  order  to  form  an  accurate  judgment  regarding 
the  meaning  of  the  teaching  of  Buddha  as  set  forth 
in  the  Dhammachakka-ppavattana  Sutta,  it  is 
necessary  not  only  to  explain  the  terms  used  in 
the  Sutta,  but  also  to  understand  the  doctrines 
which  it  involves.  In  subsequent  Suttas  each 
word,  each  clause,  and  each  idea  in  the  Discourse 
is  fully  commented  and  enlarged  upon.  It  is 
possible,  in  the  light  of  these  explanations,  to 
arrive  at  a  true  conception  of  the  meaning  which 
the  Discourses  conveyed  to  early  Buddhists.  From 
the  same  sources  a  general  idea  of  the  underlying 
beliefs  may  be  gained. 

I.  The  Buddhist  scheme  of  life. — In  Buddhist 
thought  man  is  not  regarded  as  a  soul  residing  in 
a  physical  body,  or  as  possessing  a  soul  which  may 
be  separated  from  the  body  and  continue  to  exist. 
A  belief  in  self  or  soul  is  regarded  so  distinctly  as 
a  heresy  that  two  well-known  words  in  Buddhist 
terminology  have  been  coined  on  purpose  to  stig- 
matize it.  The  first  of  these  is  sakkdya-ditthi,  'the 
heresy  of  individuality,'  the  name  given  to  this 
belief  as  one  of  the  three  primary  delusions  (the 
others  being  doubt,  and  belief  in  the  efficacy  of 
rites  and  ceremonies)  which  must  be  abandoned  at 
the  very  first  stage  of  the  Buddhist  path  of  holiness. 
The  other  is  attavada,  'the  doctrine  of  soul  or 
self,'  which  is  a  name  given  to  it  as  a  part  of  the 
chain  of  causes  which  lead  to  the  origin  of  evil. 
It  is  there  classed — with  sensuality,  heresy  (as  to 
eternity  and  annihilation),  and  belief  in  the  efficacy 
of  rites  and  ceremonies — as  one  of  the  four  upa- 
ddnas,  which  are  the  immediate  cause  of  birth, 
decay,  death,  sorrow,  lamentation,  pain,  grief,  and 
despair. 

What  then  is  man  ?  He  is  an  aggregate  of 
different  properties  or  qualities — called  skandhas, 
or  aggregates.      These  skandhas  are  as  follows : 

(1)  the  material  properties  or  attributes  (rupa) ; 

(2)  the  sensations  (vedana) ;  (3)  the  abstract  ideas 
(sannd) :  (4)  the  tendencies  or  potentialities  (lit. 
'  confections,'  sahkhard) ;  and  (5)  thought,  reason 
(viiinana). 

It  is  distinctly  laid  down  that  none  of  these 
skandhas  separately,  nor  the  skandhas  as  a  whole, 
is  the  soul. 


'  Therefore,  O  monks,  whatever  in  the  way  of  material  form, 
sensations,  perceptions,  etc.,  respectively,  has  ever  been,  will 
be,  or  is,  either  in  our  case  or  in  the  outer  world,  or  strong  or 
weak,  or  low  or  high,  or  far  or  near,  it  is  not  self;  this  must 
he  in  truth  perceive,  who  possesses  real  knowledge.  Whoso- 
ever regards  things  in  this  light,  O  monks,  being  a  wise  and 
noble  hearer  of  the  word,  turns  himself  from  sensation  and 
perception,  from  conformation  and  consciousness.  When  he 
turns  therefrom,  he  becomes  free  from  desire :  by  the  cessation 
of  desire  he  obtains  deliverance ;  in  the  delivered  there  arises 
a  consciousness  of  his  deliverance  :  re-birth  is  extinct,  holiness 
is  completed,  duty  is  accomplished  ;  there  is  no  more  a  return 
to  this  world,  he  knows '  (Mahdvagga,  i.  6.  44  ff.). 

Gautama  refused  not  only  to  give  a  definite 
answer  to  questions  concerning  the  relation  of  the 
body  to  the  soul,  but  even  to  discuss  the  matter. 
The  question  '  whether  the  soul  is  the  same  as  the 
body,  or  different  from  it,'  was  one  of  the  Indeter- 
minates,  prohibited  questions. 

It  is  the  union  of  the  skandhas  which  makes  the 
individual : 

'  Every  person,  or  thing,  or  god  is  therefore  a  putting  together, 
a  compound.  And  in  each  individual,  without  any  exception, 
the  relation  of  its  component  parts  is  ever  changing,  is  never 
the  same  for  two  consecutive  moments.  It  follows  that  no 
sooner  has  separateness,  individuality,  begun,  than  dissolution, 
disintegration,  also  begins.  There  can  be  no  individuality 
without  a  putting  together  :  there  can  be  no  putting  together 
without  a  becoming ;  there  can  be  no  becoming  without  a 
becoming  different :  and  there  can  be  no  becoming  different 
without  a  dissolution,  a  passing  away,  which  sooner  or  later 
will  inevitably  be  complete'  (Rhys  Davids,  Early  Buddhism, 
p.  67). 

The  great  fact  of  life  is  the  'Wheel  of 
Life,'  called  Paticca-Sammuppada  (i.e.  origination 
through  dependence) :  ( 1 )  on  account  of  Ignor- 
ance, the  sankharas  ;  (2)  on  account  of  the  sahkh- 
aras,  Consciousness  j  (3)  on  account  of  Conscious- 
ness, Name  and  Form  ;  (4)  on  account  of  Name 
and  Form,  the  six  Provinces  (of  the  six   senses) ; 

(5)  on  account  of    the    six    Provinces,    Contact ; 

(6)  on  account  of  Contact,  Sensation ;  (7)  on 
account  of  Sensation,  Craving ;  (8)  on  account  of 
Craving,  Attachment ;  (9)  on  account  of  Attach- 
ment, Becoming  ;  (10)  on  account  of  Becoming, 
Birth;  (11)  (12)  on  account  of  Birth,  old  age,  and 
death,  grief,  lamentation,  suffering,  dejection, 
and  despair. 

Buddhism  teaches  that  everything  in  life  has  a 
cause,  and  that  the  Wheel  of  Life  must  revolve, 
one  cause  leading  to  another,  according  to  an 
irresistible  law.  But  there  is  no  attempt  to 
explain  the  ultimate  cause  of  all  things.  This 
Doctrine  is  embodied  in  the  familiar  stanza,  which 
is  engraved  upon  many  an  image  of  the  Buddha, 
and  impressed  upon  the  moulded  ashes  of  the 
dead  : 

'  Of  all  the  phenomena  sprung  from  a  cause 
The  Buddha  the  cause  hath  told, 
And  he  tells,  too,  how  each  shall  come  to  its  end, 
Such  alone  is  the  word  of  the  Sage '  (Vinaya,  i.  40). 

Death  does  not  cause  the  Wheel  of  Life  to  cease 
to  turn  ;  it  is  only  a  link  in  the  ceaseless  chain  of 
existence.  At  the  moment  of  death  a  new  life 
comes  into  being.  The  skandhas  re-combine,  under 
conditions  determined  by  the  amount  of  merit  or 
demerit  which  their  previous  combination  has 
accumulated.  The  man  is  the  same  as  his  prede- 
cessor in  the  chain  of  re-birth.  And  yet  he  is  not 
the  same ;  he  is  on  a  higher  or  a  lower  scale  of 
existence,  according  as  his  previous  life  has  been 
good  or  bad.  This  is  karma  (q.v.),  the  doctrine  on 
which  the  whole  of  Buddhism  turns. 

Existence  is  conjoined  with  pain — pain  to  which 
there  is  no  ending.  The  conditions  which  make 
an  individual  are  the  conditions  that  give  rise  to 
pain.  Birth,  death,  disease,  unions,  separations, 
unsatisfied  cravings,  in  fact  all  that  goes  to  make 
individuality,  are  painful;  existence,  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  is  painful. 

But  why  this  pain  of  life,  this  life  of  pain  ?  The 
second  truth  answers  the  question.  Khys  Davids 
says  that  the  last  words  in  this  Noble  Truth  might 
be  rendered  '  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  life, 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Buddhist) 


235 


and  the  love  of  this  present  world '  (Early  Bud- 
dhism, p.  55).  The  author  of  The  Creed  of  Buddha 
says  (p.  80),  with  reference  to  this  craving,  or 
thirst,  which  Gautama  affirmed  to  be  the  origin  of 
suffering  : 

'Desire  for  the  pleasures,  or  rather  for  the  joys,  that 
minister  to  the  real  self  is  wholly  good.  It  is  desire  for  the 
pleasures  that  minister  to  the  lower  self ;  it  is  the  desire  to 
affirm  the  lower  self,  to  live  in  it,  to  cling  to  it,  to  rest  in  it ; 
it  is  the  desire  to  identify  oneself  with  the  individual  self  and 
the  impermanent  world  which  centres  in  it,  instead  of  with  the 
Universal  Self  and  the  eternal  world  of  which  it  is  at  once  the 
centre  and  the  circumference : — it  is  this  desire,  taking  a 
thousand  forms,  which  is  evil,  and  which  proves  itself  to  be 
evil  by  causing  ceaseless  suffering  to  mankind.  If  the  self  is  to 
be  delivered  from  suffering,  desire  for  what  is  impermanent, 
changeable,  and  unreal  must  be  extinguished  ;  and  the  gradual 
extinction  of  unworthy  desire  must  therefore  be  the  central 
purpose  of  one's  life.' 

The  question  that  Gautama  set  himself  to  solve 
was  the  cessation  of  the  pain  consequent  upon  and 
inherent  in  existence  itself,  and  the  answer  to  his 
search  was  the  attainment  of  Nirvana,  by  way  of 
the  Noble  Eight-fold  Path. 

2.  The  Eight-fold  Path.— The  divisions  of  the 
path  are,  as  already  stated  :  Right  Views,  Right 
Aspirations,  Right  Speech,  Right  Conduct,  Right 
Mode  of  Livelihood,  Right  Effort,  Right  Mind- 
fulness, Right  Rapture.  The  four  stages  of  the 
path  are:  (1)  The  'entering  upon  the  stream,' 
Conversion ;  which  follows  on  (a)  companionship 
with  the  good,  (b)  hearing  of  the  law,  (c)  enlightened 
reflexion,  or  (d)  the  practice  of  virtue.  The  uncon- 
verted man  is  unwise,  under  the  influence  of  sin, 
enmity,  and  impurity  ;  but  if,  by  one  or  more  of 
the  means  just  mentioned,  he  has  arrived  at  a 
perception  of  the  'four  Noble  Truths,'  he  has 
become  converted,  and  has  entered  the  first  path. 
While  in  this  path,  he  becomes  free  successively 
from  the  delusion  of  self,  from  doubt  as  to  the 
Buddha  and  his  doctrines,  and  from  the  belief  in 
the  efficacy  of  rites  and  ceremonies.  '  Better  than 
universal  empire  in  this  world,  better  than  going 
to  heaven,  better  than  lordship  over  all  worlds  is 
(this  three-fold)  fruit  of  the  first  path '  (Dharn- 
mapada,  verse  178).  (2)  The  path  of  those  who 
will  only  once  return  to  this  world.  The  converted 
man,  free  from  doubt  and  the  delusions  of  self  and 
ritualism,  succeeds  in  this  path  in  reducing  to  a 
minimum  lust,  hatred,  and  delusion.  (3)  The  path 
of  those  who  will  never  return  to  this  world ;  in 
which,  the  last  remnants  of  sensuality  and  male- 
volence being  destroyed,  not  the  least  low  desire 
for  oneself,  or  wrong  feeling  towards  others,  can 
arise  in  the  heart.  (4)  The  path  of  the  holy  ones  ; 
more  exactly,  worthy  ones,  arahats ;  in  which  the 
saint  becomes  free  from  desire  for  material,  or 
immaterial,  existence ;  from  pride  and  self-right- 
eousness, and  ignorance  (Rhys  Davids,  Bud- 
dhism, p.  108  f.). 

Several  words  are  used  in  this  description  of  the 
Eight-fold  Path  which  require  explanation. 

i.  Right  Views. — Right  Views  refer  principally 
to  the  four  truths,  enunciated  in  the  Dhamma- 
cha.kka-ppavattana  Sutta,  and  the  'three  signs,' 
which  include  (a)  the  first  of  the  four  truths,  (b) 
impermanence,  and  (c)  non-soul,  i.e.  the  absence  of 
a  soul.  Impermanence  and  non-soul  are  both 
declared  to  be  the  '  signs '  of  every  individual, 
whether  god,  man,  or  animal. 

ii.  Right  Aspirations. — The  Buddhist  faith  does 
not  teach  the  suppression  of  all  desire,  but  the 
suppression  of  evil  desires,  low  ideals,  useless 
cravings,  idle  excitements,  by  the  cultivation  of 
the  opposite — right  desires  and  lofty  aspirations. 
In  the  Majjhima  (iii.  25)  examples  are  given  of 
right  desire,  e.g.  the  desire  for  emancipation  from 
sensuality,  aspirations  after  the  attainment  of  love 
for  others,  the  wish  not  to  injure  any  living  thing, 
the  desire  for  the  eradication  of  wrong,  and  for 
the  promotion  of  right  dispositions  in  the  heart. 


iii.  Right  Speech. — To  shun  the  company  of  the 
witless ;  to  hold  communion  with  the  wise ;  to 
give  honour  where  honour  is  due  :  this  is  a  great 
blessing  (Maha-parinibbana  Sutta,  i.  31). 

iv.  Right  Conduct. — The  two  most  important 
features  of  this  quality  are  love  and  joy.  Love, 
in  the  Pali,  is  mettcl,  and  the  Mettd  Sutta  (Sutta 
Nipata,  viii.  7-9)  says  : 

'As  a  mother,  even  at  the  risk  of  her  own  life,  protects  her 
son,  her  only  son,  so  let  him  cultivate  love  without  measure 
towards  all  beings.  Let  him  cultivate  towards  the  whole 
world — above,  below,  around — a  heart  of  love  unstinted,  un- 
mixed with  the  sense  of  differing  or  opposing  interests.  Let  a 
man  maintain  this  mindfulness  all  the  while  he  is  awake, 
whether  he  be  standing,  walking,  sitting,  or  lying  down.  This 
state  of  heart  is  the  best  in  the  world.' 
Again,  the  Majjhima  (i.  129) : 

'Our  mind  shall  not  waver.  No  evil  speech  will  we  utter. 
Tender  and  compassionate  will  we  abide,  loving  in  heart,  void 
of  malice  within.  And  we  will  be  ever  suffusing  such  an  one 
with  the  rays  of  our  loving  thought.  And  with  that  feeling  as 
a  basis  we  will  ever  be  suffusing  the  whole  world  with  the 
thought  of  love,  far-reaching,  grown  great,  beyond  measure, 
void  of  anger  or  ill-will.' 
And  the  Itivuttaka  (xxvi.) : 

'  All  the  means  that  can  be  used  as  bases  for  doing  right  are 
not  worth  the  sixteenth  part  of  the  emancipation  of  heart 
through  Love.  That  takes  all  those  up  into  itself,  outshining 
them  in  radiance  and  glory,  just  as  whatsoever  stars  there 
be,  their  radiance  avails  not  the  sixteenth  part  of  the  radiance 
of  the  moon.  That  takes  all  those  up  into  itself,  outshining 
them  in  radiance  and  glory — just  as  In  the  last  month  of  the 
rains,  at  harvest  time,  the  Bun,  mounting  up  on  high  into  the 
clear  and  cloudless  sky,  overwhelms  all  darkness  in  the  realms 
of  space,  and  shines  forth  in  radiance  and  glory — just  as  in  the 
night,  when  the  dawn  is  breaking,  the  Morning  Star  shines  out 
in  radiance  and  glory— just  so  all  the  means  that  can  be  used 
as  helps  towards  doing  right  avail  not  the  sixteenth  part  of  the 
emancipation  of  the  heart  through  Love.' 

The  joy  of  the  faith  is  referred  to  in  the  '  Dia- 
logues of  the  Buddha' : 

'  When  these  five  Hindrances  have  been  put  away  within 
him,  he  looks  upon  himself  as  freed  from  debt,  rid  of  disease, 
out  of  jail,  a  free  man,  and  secure.  And  gladness  springs  up 
within  him  on  his  realizing  that,  and  joy  arises  to  him  thus 
gladdened,  and  so  rejoicing  all  his  frame  becomes  at  ease, 
and  being  thus  at  ease  he  is  pervaded  with  a  sense  of  peace, 
and  in  that  peace  his  heart  is  stayed '  (Rhys  Davids,  Dialogues 
of  the  Buddha,  i.  84). 

v.  Right  Mode  of  Livelihood. — '  Whoso  hurts  and 
harms  living  creatures,  destitute  of  sympathy  for 
any  living  thing,  let  him  be  known  as  an  out- 
caste  '  ( Vasala  Sutta,  Sutta  Nipata,  vii.  2). 

vi.  Right  Effort. — This  signifies  'a  constant  in- 
tellectual alertness.'  The  three  cardinal  sins  of 
Buddhism  are :  sensuality  (dosa),  ill-will  (moha), 
and  stupiditj7  or  dullness  (raga) ;  the  last  mentioned 
being  regarded  as  the  worst. 

The  '  Four  Great  Efforts'  (sammappadhana)  are 
the  effort  or  exertion  (a)  to  prevent  sinfulness 
arising,  (b)  to  put  away  sinful  states  which  have 
arisen,  (c)  to  produce  goodness  not  previously  ex- 
isting, and  (d)  to  increase  goodness  where  it  does 
exist  (Maha-parinibbana-sutta,  SBE  xi.  63  n.). 

'  The  Four  Roads  to  Saintship  '  (iddhipada)  are 
four  means  by  which  saintship  is  obtained,  viz. 
(a)  the  will  to  acquire  it,  (b)  the  necessary  exertion, 
(c)  the  necessary  preparation  of  the  heart,  and  (d) 
investigation  (SBE  xi.  63). 

vii.  Right  Mindfidness. — This  is  closely  con- 
nected with  Right  Effort.  Dialogues  in  the  Diglia 
(ii.  290-315)  and  Majjhima  (i.  55  f.)  are  devoted  to 
the  subject : 

'The  disciple,  whatsoever  he  does,  whether  going  forth  or 
coming  back,  standing  or  walking,  speaking  or  silent,  eating  or 
drinking,  is  to  keep  clearly  in  his  mind  all  that  it  means,  the 
temporary  character  of  the  act,  its  ethical  significance,  and 
that,  above  all,  behind  the  act  there  is  no  actor  (goer,  seer, 
eater,  speaker)  that  is  an  eternally  persistent  unity.' 

viii.  Right  Rapture.  —  In  the  Dhammapada 
(verses  197-200)  this  Right  Rapture  is  thus  de- 
scribed : 

'  It  is  in  very  bliss  we  dwell,  we  who  hate  not  those  who 

hate  us ; 
Among  men  full  of  hate,  we  continue  void  of  hate. 
ll  is  in  very  bliss  we  dwell,  we  in  health  among  the  ailing  ; 
Among  men  weary  and  sick,  we  continue  well. 
It  is  in  very  bliss  we  dwell,  free  from  care  among  the  care- 


236 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Buddhist) 


Among  men  full  of  worries,  we  continue  calm. 

It  is  in  very  bliss  we  dwell,  we  who  have  no  hindrances  ; 

We  will  become  feeders  on  joy,  like  the  gods  in  their  shining 
splendour ! ' 

In  conformity  with  the  Pali  text,  all  the  divi- 
sions of  the  Eight-fold  Path  are  descrihed  by  a  single 
word — 'right.'  This  is,  perhaps,  the  best  transla- 
tion of  the  original  samma.  The  word  signifies 
'  going  with ' ;  used  as  an  adjective,  it  is  rendered 
'general,'  'common,' or  'corresponding,'  'mutual'; 
as  an  adverb,  'commonly,'  'usually,'  'normally,' 
or  'fittingly,'  'properly,  'correctly.'  It  is  used, 
in  a  secondary  sense,  to  mean  round,  fit  and  per- 
fect, normal  and  complete.  '  Right,'  therefore,  in 
the  sense  of  'correct'  has  to  be  understood,  i.e.  in 
agreement  with  the  teaching  of  Gautama.  The  word 
is  not  used  with  a  moral  significance.  The  eight- 
fold description  of  the  perfect  life  is  of  such  vital 
importance  for  the  correct  understanding  of  the 
Buddhist  creed  that  it  may  be  convenient  to  sum- 
marize the  meaning  of  each  division  of  the  path  : 

1.  Right  views;  free  from  superstition  or  delu- 

sion. 

2.  Right  aspirations ;  high  and  worthy  of  the 

intelligent  man. 

3.  Right  speech  ;  kindly,  open,  truthful. 

4.  Right  conduct ;  peaceful,  honest,  pure. 

5.  Right  livelihood  ;  bringing  hurt  or  danger  to 

no  living  thing. 

6.  Right  effort ;  in  self-training  and  self-control. 

7.  Right    mindfulness ;    the    active,    watchful 

mind. 

8.  Right  rapture ;  earnest  thought  on  the  deep 

mysteries  of  life. 
Gogerly  (Journ.    Ceylon  As.  Soc.,   1865)   gives  a 
slightly  different  rendering : 

1.  Correct  views  (of        Correct  doctrines. 

truth). 

2.  Correct  thoughts.         A  clear  perception  (of 

their  nature). 

3.  Correct  words.  Inflexible  veracity. 

4.  Correct  conduct.  Purity  of  conduct. 

5.  Correct  (mode   of        A  sinless  occupation. 

obtaininga)  live- 
lihood. 

6.  Correct  efforts.  Perseverance  in  duty. 

7.  Correct      medita-        Holy  meditation. 

tion. 

8.  Correct    tranquil-        Mental  tranquillity. 

lity. 

3.  The  hindrances  in  the  way. — The  hindrances 
in  the  way  of  treading  the  Eight-fold  Path,  and 
thus  securing  deliverance,  are  very  clearly  detailed. 
They  are  described  under  different  headings — '  the 
Five  Hindrances,'  'the  Ten  Fetters,'  and  'the 
Four  Intoxications.' 

(a)  The  Five  Hindrances  (nivarana)  are  sensu- 
ality, ill-will,  torpor  of  mind  or  body,  worry,  and 
wavering.  These  affect  a  man  like  debt,  disease, 
imprisonment,  slavery,  and  anxiety. — (b)  The  Ten 
Fetters  (sangyojanas)  are  :  (1)  delusions  about  the 
soul  (sakkdya-ditthi),  (2)  doubt  (vicikiccha),  (3) 
reliance  on  ceremonies  (silabbata-paramdsa),  (4) 
sensuality  (Jcama),  (5)  ill-will  (patigha),  (6)  desire 
for  re-birth  on  earth  {rupa-raga),  (7)  desire  for  re- 
birth in  heaven  (arupa-rdga),  (8)  pride  (mano),  (9) 
self -righteousness  (uddhacca),  (10)  ignorance  (avijjd). 
— (c)  The  Four  Intoxications  consist  in  the  mental 
infatuation  arising  from  sensual  pleasures,  from  the 
pride  of  life,  from  ignorance,  and  from  speculation. 

4.  The  ultimate  aim— Nirvana. — When  the 
traveller  has  resolutely  trodden  the  Eight-fold 
Path,  overcome  the  Hindrances,  broken  the  Fet- 
ters, and  resisted  the  Intoxications,  he  has  reached 
the  goal  of  all  Buddhist  ambition  and  effort — 
Nirvana. 

'  To  him  who  has  finished  the  Path,  and  passed  beyond  sor- 
row, who  has  freed  himself  on  all  sides,  and  thrown  away  every 
fetter,  there  is  no  more  fever  of  grief.'  '  Him  whose  senses  have 
become  tranquil,  like  a  horse  well  broken-in  by  the  driver ;  who 


is  free  from  pride  and  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the  lust  of  exist- 
ence, and  the  defilement  of  ignorance — him  even  the  gods 
envy.  Such  a  one  whose  conduct  is  right,  remains  like  the 
broad  earth,  unvexed ;  like  the  pillar  of  the  city  gate,  un- 
moved ;  like  a  pellucid  lake,  unruffled.  For  such  there  are  no 
more  births.  Tranquil  is  the  mind,  tranquil  the  words  and 
deeds  of  him  who_  is  thus  tranquillized,  and  made  free  by  wis- 
dom '  (Dhammapdda,  verses  90,  94-96). 

'  They  who,  by  steadfast  mind,  have  become  exempt  from  evil 
desire,  and  well-trained  in  the  teachings  of  Gautama ;  they, 
having  obtained  the  fruit  of  the  Fourth  Path,  and  immersed 
themselves  in  that  ambrosia,  have  received  without  price,  and 
are  in  the  enjoyment  of,  Nirvana. . .  Their  old  karma  is  ex- 
hausted, no  new  karma  is  being  produced ;  their  hearts  are 
free  from  the  longing  after  future  life  ;  the  cause  of  their  exist- 
ence being  destroyed,  and  no  new  yearnings  springing  up  within 
them,  they,  the  wise,  are  extinguished  like  this  lamp'  (Ratana 
Sutta,  7.  14).  'That  mendicant  conducts  himself  well  who  has 
conquered  (sin)  by  means  of  holiness,  from  whose  eyes  the  veil 
of  error  has  been  removed,  who  is  well-trained  in  religion,  and 
who,  free  from  yearning,  and  skilledin  the  knowledge,  has 
attained  unto  Nirvana  '  (Satmnd-paribbdjaniya  Sutta,  14). 

The  word  Nibbana  (Pali  for  Nirvana)  occurs 
only  infrequently  in  the  Pitakas.  A  few  illus- 
trations of  its  use  in  the  Dhammapdda  are  given : 

*  These  wise  people  [speaking  of  Arahats],  meditative,  perse- 
vering, ever  full  of  strength,  attain  to  Nirvana,  the  highest 
bliss'  (verse  23).  'The  mendicant  who  delights  in  diligence, 
and  looks  with  terror  on  sloth,  cannot  fall  away, — he  is  in  the 
very  presence  of  Nirvana '  (verse  32).  '  If  thou  keenest  thyself 
as  silent  as  a  broken  gong,  thou  hast  attained  Nirvana ;  no 
angry  clamour  is  found  in  thee '  (verse  134).  [The  preceding 
verse  condemns  harsh  speaking.]  '  The  Buddhas  declare  the 
best  self-mortification  to  be  patience,  long-suffftring  ;-the  best 
(thing  of  all)  to  be  Nirvana ;  for  he  is  no  (true)  monk  who 
strikes,  no  (true)  mendicant  who  insults  others '  (verse  184) 

'  There  is  no  fire  like  lust,  there  is  no  sin  like  hate,  there  is  no 
misery  like  the  skandhas,  there  is  -no  happiness  like  peace. 
Hunger  is  the  worst  disease,  the  sankdras  the  worst  suffering  : 
knowing  this  as  it  really  is,  is  Nirvana,  the  highest  bliss '  (verse 
202  f.).  '  Those  who  are  ever  on  the  watch,  who  study  day  and 
night,  whose  heart  is  set  on  Nirvana,  their  sinfulness  dies  away ' 
[lit.  '  their  Asavas  go  to  an  end ']  (verse  226). 

In  the  light  of  these  passages,  what  is  Nirvana ! 
In  the  original  it  means  'going  out,'  'extinction.' 
It  cannot  mean  the  extinction  of  the  soul. 

*  It  is  the  extinction  of  that  sinful,  grasping  condition  of  mind 
and  heart,  which  would  otherwise,  according  to  the  great  mys- 
tery of  Karma,  be  the  cause  of  renewed  individual  existence. 
That  extinction  is  to  be  brought  about  by,  and  runs  parallel 
with,  the  growth  of  the  opposite  condition  of  mind  and  h6art ; 
and  it  is  complete  when  that  opposite  condition  is  reached. 
Nirvana  is  therefore  the  same  thing  as  a  sinless,  calm  state  of 
mind  ;  and,  if  translated  at  all,  may  best,  perhaps,  be  rendered 
"  holiness " — holiness,  that  is,  in  the  Buddhist  sense,  perfect 
peace,  goodness,  and  wisdom'  (Rhys  Davids,  Buddhism,  p. 
Ill  f.).    See,  further,  art.  Nirvana. 

Describing  Nirvana,  Rhys  Davids  says  {Early 
Buddhism,  p.  72  f.) :' 

'One  might  fill  columns  with  the  praises,  many  of  them 
among  the  most  beautiful  passages  in  Pali  poetry  and  prose, 
lavished  on  this  condition  of  mind,  the  state  of  the  man  made 
perfect  according  to  the  Buddhist  faith.  Many  are  the  pet 
names,  the  poetic  epithets,  bestowed  upon  it,  each  of  them — 
for  they  are  not  synonyms — emphasizing  one  or  other  phase  of 
this  many-sided  conception — the  harbour  of  refuge,  the  cool 
cave,  the  island  amidst  the  floods,  the  place  of  bliss,  emancipa- 
tion, liberation,  safety,  the  supreme,  the  transcendental,  the 
uncreated,  the  tranquil,  the  home  of  ease,  the  calm,  the  end  of 
suffering,  the  medicine  for  all  evil,  the  unshaken,  the  ambrosia, 
the  immaterial,  the  imperishable,  the  abiding,  the  further  shore, 
the  unending,  the  bliss  of  effort,  the  supreme  joy,  the  ineffable, 
the  detachment,  the  holy  city,  and  many  others.  Perhaps  the 
most  frequent  in  the  Buddhist  texts  is  Arahatship,  "  the  state 
of  him  who  is  worthy  "  ;  and  the  one  exclusively  used  in  Europe 
is  Nirvana,  the  "  dying  out,"  that  is,  the  dying  out  in  the  heart 
of  the  fell  fire  of  the  three  cardinal  sins — sensuality,  ill-will,  and 
stupidity '  (Samyutta,  iv.  251,  261). 

Such,  then,  according  to  the  authoritative  Bud- 
dhist scriptures,  is  the  creed  of  Buddhism.  But  is 
it  the  whole  of  the  creed  which  Gautama  preached 
to  the  world  ?  Was  this  the  faith  by  which  Buddha 
won  the  '  deepest  heart  of  the  East '  ?  The  new 
religion  was  materialistic,  i.e.  Buddha  denied  the 
soul,  or  ego ;  atheistic,  i.e.  there  was  no  place  for 
God  in  his  system  of  thought ;  pessimistic,  i.e.  he 
regarded  all  existence  as  intrinsically  evil ;  egoistic, 
i.e.  in  his  scheme  of  life  he  taught  men  to  think  of 
themselves  and  their  personal  welfare ;  nihilistic, 
i.e.  he  regarded  Nothing  as  the  supreme  reality. 
Oldenberg  says  of  the  philosophy  of  Buddha  :  '  We 
have  a  fragment  of  a  circle,  to  complete  which, 
and  to  find  the  centre  of  which,  is  forbidden,  for 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Ecumenical) 


237 


it  would  involve  an  inquiry  after  things  which 
do  not  contribute  to  deliverance  and  happiness' 
{op.  cit.  p.  20S).  Some  writers  have  accepted 
this  view,  and  have  sought  to  complete  the  circle 
from  its  segment,  and  to  find  its  centre,  argu- 
ing that  a  creed  involving  materialism,  atheism, 
pessimism,  egoism,  and  nihilism  could  never  have 
achieved  the  triumph  which  attended  the  propa- 
ganda of  Buddhism  ;  and  therefore  only  a  part, 
and  not  the  whole,  of  Buddha's  teaching  has  been 
handed  down.  It  is  claimed,  for  instance,  that  the 
central  truth  of  Buddhism  was  '  the  conception  that 
the  Universal  Self  is  the  true  self  of  each  one  of  us, 
and  that  to  realize  the  true  self  is  the  destiny  and 
the  duty  of  man.'  The  early  triumph  of  the  faith 
may  be  difficult  to  understand,  but  there  is  no 
ground  for  assuming  that  the  Buddhist  scriptures 
contain  an  incomplete  statement  of  the  great,  cen- 
tral, and  essential  truths  preached  by  Gautama. 
Details  of  the  teaching  may  be  lacking,  but  we  are 
in  possession  of  its  essence. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Gautama's  scheme 
of  life  and  religious  teaching  lost  its  charm  over 
the  minds  of  men  in  the  course  of  a  few  centuries 
— among  other  reasons,  on  account  of  its  negations, 
and  the  absence  of  an  effective  dynamic.  Hence 
the  rise  of  the  Mahayana  school  of  Buddhism,  and 
its  new  doctrine,  namely,  ( 1 )  help  from  God  to  save 
oneself  and  others  from  suffering ;  (2)  communion 
with  God,  which  gave  the  highest  ecstatic  rest  to 
the  soul ;  and  (3)  the  possibility  of  participation  in 
the  nature  of  God,  so  that  mortals  might  become 
Divine  and  immortal.1  One  result  quickly  fol- 
lowed. The  old  Buddhists  of  the  Hinayana  school 
were  unwilling  that  their  teacher,  Sakyamuni, 
should  occupy  a  second  place  in  the  new  creed, 
and  so  they  deified  him,  and  worshipped  him  ex- 
actly as  the  Mahayana  school  worshipped  God. 
From  the  time  of  the  deification  of  Buddha,  Bud- 
dhism took  a  new  lease  of  life,  and  became  one  of 
the  world's  greatest  religions.  Modern  Buddhism 
presents  to  the  world  to-day  a  curious  combination 
of  the  earliest  teaching  and  its  later  developments. 

Monier- Williams  thus  summarizes  the  achieve- 
ments of  the  Buddhist  faith  in  its  earliest  years  in 
the  land  of  its  birth  : 

*  What  the  Buddha  then  did  wag  this  :  first  he  stretched  out 
the  hand  of  brotherhood  to  all  mankind  by  inviting  all,  without 
exception,  to  join  his  fraternity  of  celibate  monks,  which  he 
wished  to  be  co-extensive  with  the  world  itself.  Then  he 
abolished  the  Brahminical  "ways  of  salvation,"  i.e.  Yajna 
"sacrifices,"  and  Bhakti  "devotion  to  personal  gods,"  and 
substituted  for  these  meditation  and  moral  conduct  as  the  only 
road  to  true  knowledge  and  emancipation.  And  then,  lastly, 
he  threw  open  this  highest  way  of  true  knowledge  to  all  who 
wished  to  enter  it,  of  whatever  rank,  or  caste,  or  mental  calibre 
they  might  be,  not  excepting  the  most  degraded.  Without 
doubt,  the  distinguishing  feature  in  the  Buddha's  gospel  was, 
that  no  living  being,  not  even  the  loweBt,  was  to  be  shut  out 
from  true  enlightenment '  (Buddhism,  p.  96  f .). 

Literature.— T.  W.  Rhys  Davids,  Buddhism^,  London, 
1899,  also  Early  Buddhism,  do.  1998,  Buddhist  Suttas  (SBE, 
vol.  xi.),  Oxford,  1990,  Dialogues  of  the  Buddha,  do.  1899, 
Questions  of  King  Milinda  (SBE,  vols.  xxxv.  xxxvi.),  1899-4 ; 
R.  Spence  Hardy,  Manual  of  Budhism?,  London,  1880; 
H.  Oldenberg,  Buddha,  1881  (Eng.  tr.,  London,  1882),  5th  ed  , 
Berlin,  1907 ;  T.  W.  Rhys  Davids  and  H.  Oldenberg,  Vinaya 
Texts  (SBE,  vols.  xii.  xvii.  xx.),  Oxford,  1881-5 ;  R.  S.  Cople- 
ston,  Buddhism  Primitive  and  Present^,  London,  1998;  D.  J. 
Gogerly,  Ceylon  Buddhism,  Colombo,  1908 ;  M.  Monier- 
Williams,  Buddhism,  London,  1889,  The  Creed  of  Buddha, 
London,  1908  ;  Timothy  Richard,  The  NT  of  Hiqher 
Buddhism,  Edinburgh,  1919 ;  Max  Miiller  and  V.  Fausboll, 
Dhammapada  and  Sutta  Nipata  (SBE,  vol.  x.),  Oxford,  1881 ; 
P.  L.  Narasu,  The  Essence  of  Buddhism,  Madras,  1907. 

J.  H.  Bateson. 

CREEDS  (Ecumenical).  —  i.  The  Apostles' 
Creed. — Within  two  generations  from  the  Apostles 
acatechist  at  Rome  produced  the  famous  form  which 
lies  at  the  root  probably  of  all  similar  forms,  cer- 
tainly in  the  West,  and  reflects  without  question 
the  recent  teaching  of  the  great  Apostles  Peter 

1  Hence,  also,  the  evolution  of  the  thought  of  a  Divine  Saviour 
in  the  person  of  AvalokiteSvara  (q.v.),  which  was  a  purely  meta- 
physical invention,  and  of  Maitreya,  the  future  Buddha. 


and  Paul.  Kattenbusch  traces  the  Old  Roman 
Creed  back  to  the  year  +  100  A.  D. ,  and  finds  in  it  the 
archetype  of  all  other  forms  in  both  East  and  West. 
Other  writers,  notably  Zabn  and  Sanday,  conjec- 
ture an  Eastern  type,  a  sister  form,  which  they 
trace  back  to  Antioch,  regarding  the  later  legend 
of  Apostolic  authorship,  taught,  e.g.,  by  Rufinus 
(c.  A.D.  400),  as  enshrining  this  modicum  of  truth 
■ — that  the  Apostles  had  agreed  on  such  a  form, 
which  in  the  East  and  West  passed  through  many 
modifications.  It  will  be  convenient  to  quote  this 
Old  Roman  Creed  : 

OLD  ROMAN  CREED. 
I.  1.  I  believe  in  God,  (the)  *  Father  Almighty  ; 
II.  2.  And  in  Christ  Jesus,  His  only  Son,  our  Lord, 

3.  Who  was  born  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  the  Virgin  Mary, 

4.  crucified  under  Pontius  Pilate  and  buried, 

5.  the  third  day  He  rose  from  the  dead, 

6.  He  ascended  into  heaven, 

7.  sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father, 

8.  thence  He  shall  come  to  judge  living  and  dead. 
III.  9.  And  in  the  Holy  Ghost, 

10.  (the)  Holy  Church, 

11.  (the)  remission  of  sins, 

12.  (the)  resurrection  of  the  flesh. 

At  first  we  can  trace  only  bare  allusions,  as  in  a 
passage  of  Marcion's  revised  New  Testament  where 
he  speaks  of  the  '  covenant  which  begets  us  in  the 
Holy  Church,'  and  implies  that  the  words  '  Holy 
Church'  were  contained  in  the  Baptismal  Creed 
which  had  been  taught  him  in  Rome  before  his 
breach  with  the  Church  in  A.D.  145.  So,  again,  in 
two  passages  of  Tertullian  : 

de  Virg.  Yel.  i. :  '  The  rule  of  faith,  indeed,  is  one  altogether 
...  of  believing  in  one  God  Almighty,  Maker  of  the  world,  and 
in  His  Son  Jesus  Christ,  born  of  Mary  the  Virgin,  crucified  under 
Pontius  Pilate  ;  the  third  day  raised  from  the  dead,  received  in 
the  heavens,  sitting  now  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father,  about 
to  come  to  judge  quick  and  dead,  through  the  resurrection  also 
of  the  flesh.' 

de  Pressor,  xiii. :  '  What  the  (Roman)  Church  has  made  a 
common  token  with  the  African  Churches  :  has  recognized  one 
God,  Creator  of  the  universe,  and  Christ  Jesus,  of  the  Virgin 
Mary,  Son  of  God,  the  Creator,  and  the  resurrection  of  the 
flesh.' 

With  scanty  references  in  Dionysius  and  Novatian, 
we  pass  on  to  the  4th  cent.,  when  Creeds  come  out 
to  the  light  of  day,  and,  greatly  to  our  advantage, 
Marcellus,  Bishop  of  Ancyra,  who  had  been  kindly 
received  as  an  exile  by  Bishop  Julius  of  Rome 
(c.  A.D.  337),  left  on  record  his  acceptance  of  the 
faith  of  the  Roman  Church.  The  accuracy  of  his 
quotation,  recorded  by  Epiphanius,  is  confirmed 
by  the  testimony  of  Rufinus,  priest  of  Aquileia, 
who  (c.  A.D.  400)  wrote  a  commentary  on  this  form, 
and  compared  with  it  the  slightly  different  form  of 
Aquileia.  It  is  quite  possible  that  Kattenbusch 
has  minimized  the  evidence  for  the  existence  of 
similar  Eastern  forms  of  the  3rd  century.  He 
thinks  that  the  Creeds  of  Cfesarea  and  Jerusalem, 
recovered  from  the  pages  of  Athanasius  and  Cyril, 
were  derived  from  the  Roman  Creed  after  the  date 
when  Paul  of  Samosata  was  deposed  (c.  A.D.  272)  ; 
and  that  the  Roman  Creed  was  altered  to  meet  the 
needs  of  the  East,  and  became  the  parent  of  Creeds 
in  Asia  Minor  and  Egypt  as  well  as  in  Palestine. 

At  present  the  theory  of  Kattenbusch  still  holds 
the  field,  and  is  supported  by  Harnack  ;  but  his 
critics  are  closing  him  in  on  every  side.  Kunze, 
working  on  the  same  lines  as  Zahn,  reconstructs  an 
Antiochene  Creed  of  the  3rd  cent.,  which  he  claims 
as  an  independent  sister  form  : 

CREED  OF  ANTIOCH. 
I.  1.  I  believe  in  one  and  an  only  true  God,  Father  Almighty, 
Maker  of  all  things,  visible  and  invisible. 

II.  2.  And  in  one  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  His  Son,  the  only-begotten 
and  firstborn  of  all  creation,  begotten  of  Him  before 
all  the  ages,  through  whom  also  the  ages  were  estab- 
lished, and  all  things  came  into  existence. 

3.  Who,  for  our  sakes,  came  down  and  was  born  of  Mary 

the  Virgin, 

4.  And  crucified  under  Pontius  Pilate,  and  buried, 

5.  And  the  third  day  rose  according  to  the  Scriptures, 

1  The  definite  article  is  enclosed  in  brackets  when  it  is  ncr 
found  in  the  Greek  text  of  Marcellus. 


238 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Ecumenical) 


<.  And  ascended  into  heaven. 
7. 

8.  And  is  coming:  again  to  judge  quick  and  dead. 
III.  9.  [The  beginning  of  the  third  article  has  not  been  re- 
corded.] 
10. 

11.  Remission  of  sins. 

12.  Resurrection  of  the  dead,  life  everlasting.1 

The  Creed  which  Zalm  has  reconstructed  from 
the  Didascalia,  a  book  written  in  the  3rd  cent,  not 
far  from  Antioch,  affords  an  instructive  contrast. 
CREED  OF  THE  DIDASCALIA. 
I.  1.  I  believe  in  God  Almighty. 

II.  2.  And  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  (His  Son?),  who  for  ua 
came  and 

3.  was  born  of  (Mary  the?)  a  virgin, 

4.  and  was  crucified  under  Pontius  Pilate  and  died, 
6.  the  third  day  rose  from  (the  ?)  dead, 

6.  and  ascended  into  the  heavens, 

7.  and  sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of  God  the  Almighty, 

8.  and  is  coming  with  power  and  glory  to  judge  dead  and 

living. 

III.  9.  And  in  the  Holy  GhoBt  .  .  . 
10.  (a  Holy  Church?)  .  .  . 
12.  resurrection  of  the  dead.2 
The  uncertainties  attending  such  reconstructions 
stand  in  marked  contrast  with  the  comparative 
certainty  with  which  we  can  trace  back  the  Old 
Roman  Creed,  the  only  really  doubtful  point  about 
which  is  the  question  whether  originally  it  did  not 
read  :  '  I  believe  in  one  God,  the  Father  Almighty,' 
which  is  suggested  by  the  testimony  of  Tertullian. 
Tertullian,  in  his  criticism  of  Praxeas,  the  first 
modalist  Monarchian  (that  is  to  say,  a  theologian 
who  confused  the  distinctions  between  the  Divine 
Persons),  says  (adv.  Praxean,  i.)  :  'He  routed  the 
Paraclete,  and  crucified  the  Father.'  Under  these 
circumstances  we  can  commend  the  prudence  of 
the  leaders  of  the  Roman  Church  if  they  dropped 
the  word  '  one '  as  liable  to  misunderstanding. 
Zahn  quotes  a  passage  from  Eusebius  in  which 
heretics  are  said  to  have  accused  the  Roman  Church 
of  re-coining  the  truth  like  forgers,  and  makes  the 
acute  suggestion  that  the  reference  was  to  some 
change  in  the  Baptismal  Creed.  We  cannot  sup- 
pose that  the  immutability  of  the  Roman  Creed 
praised  by  Rufinus  would  necessarily  extend 
through  all  the  past  centuries. 

Again,  Loofs,3  comparing  4th  cent.  Eastern 
Creeds,  endeavours  to  prove  the  existence  of  an 
Eastern  type  which  would  include  the  word  '  one ' 
in  Article  I.  with  a  reference  to  the  Creator : 
'  crucified  under  Pontius  Pilate  ' ;  and  in  the  third 
division  the  words  'catholic'  and  'eternal  life.' 
But  the  resultant  form  would  be  on  the  same  plane 
of  development  as  the  Roman,  as  compared  with 
the  theological  Creeds  of  the  4th  century.  There 
is  always  the  possibility  that  such  a  Creed  may 
have  been  brought  to  the  East  from  Rome  in  the  2nd 
century.  Justin  Martyr  has  close  coincidences  of 
language,  which,  in  Kattenbusch's4  opinion,  prove 
his  acquaintance  with  the  Roman  Creed,  though 
Zahn  6  thinks  that  he  is  quoting  his  own  Creed  of 
Ephesus.  The  same  may  be  said  of  Irenseus,  whose 
writings  must  be  searched  in  the  light  of  these 
opposing  theories  before  we  can  decide  whether  he 
brought  his  creed  from  Rome  : 

c.  Bear.  I.  x.  1  :  'The  Church,  though  dispersed  throughout 
the  whole  world,  even  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  has  received 
from  the  apostles  and  their  disciples  this  faith  :  [She  believes]  in 
one  God,  the  Father  Almighty,  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth,  and 
the  sea  and  all  things  that  are  in  them  ;  and  in  one  Christ  Jesus 
the  Son  of  God,  who  became  incarnate  for  our  salvation  ;  and  in 
the  Holy  Spirit,  who  proclaimed  through  the  prophets  the  dis- 
pensations of  God  and  the  advents,  and  the  birth  from  a  virgin, 
and  the  passion,  and  the  resurrection  from  the  dead,  and  the 
ascension  into  heaven  in  the  flesh  of  the  beloved  Christ  Jesus, 
our  Lord,  and  His  [future]  manifestation  from  heaven  in  the 
glory  of  the  Father  "  to  gather  all  things  in  one,"  and  to  raise  up 
anew  all  flesh  of  the  whole  human  race,  in  order  that  to  Christ 
Jesus  our  Lord  and  God  and  Saviour  and  King,  according  to  the 

1  Theol.  Litteraturblatt,  xxxiii.  [1911]  19,  221. 
2 '  Neuere   Beitrage  zur  Gesch.   des  apost.  Symbolums,'  in 
N.  Eirchl.  Zeitschr.  vii.  (1896)  23. 

*  Symbolik,  Tubingen,  1902,  i.  19. 

*  Das  apost.  Symbol,  ii.  283.  &  Apost.  Symb.  p.  37. 


will  of  the  invisible  Father,  "  every  knee  should  bow,  of  things 
in  heaven,  and  things  in  earth,  and  things  under  the  earth,  and 
that  every  tongue  should  confess  to  Him,"  and  that  He  should 
execute  just  judgment  towards  all.' 

While  Irenseus  has  some  phrases  which  remind 
us  of  the  Roman  Creed,  the  lack  of  any  mention  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  at  the  end  of  this  rule  of  faith 
makes  it  doubtful  whether  his  personal  creed  was 
any  more  than  a  short  Christological  confession, 
the  longer  form  quoted  above  representing  a  sum- 
mary of  his  ordinary  teaching  on  the  lines  laid 
down  by  tradition.  Here  is  a  problem  which 
demands  further  investigation,  and  we  must  say 
the  same  of  the  very  interesting  researches  of 
Connolly  in  the  writings  of  Aphraates,  from  which 
he  deduces  the  existence  of  an  early  Syriac  Creed.1 
This  includes  mention  of  the  Creation  in  Art.  I.  ; 
confession  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  God,  Son  of 
God,  Light  from  Light,  who  came  and  put  on  a 
body  from  Mary  the  Virgin  of  the  seed  of  the 
house  of  David,  from  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  suffered 
(or  was  crucified),  went  down  to  the  place  of  the 
dead,  rose,  ascended,  sat  on  the  right  hand  of  the 
Father,  is  judge  of  the  dead  and  of  the  living  ; 
confession  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  followed  by  '  [And  I 
believe]  in  the  coming  to  life  of  the  dead ;  [and]  in 
the  mystery  of  Baptism  (of  the  remission  of  sins).' 
After  all,  it  does  not  matter  which  way  the 
question  as  to  the  form  is  answered  ultimately, 
since  the  facts  taught  were  the  same  in  the  East  as 
in  Rome. 

The  later  history  of  the  Creed  is  still  at  some 
points  obscure.  We  know  that  it  was  used  by  the 
Abbot  Pirminius,  who  founded  monasteries  at 
Reichenau  and  fiornbach.  It  is  quoted  in  the 
Codex  Einsidlensis  199  of  the  8th  cent.,  and  the 
Dicta  Abbatis  Pirminii,  which  was  written  about 
A.D.  730.  Probably  it  was  brought  into  its  present 
shape  at  Luxeuil  or  Bobbio.  All  the  later  addi- 
tions, such  as '  descended  into  hell '  and  'communion 
of  saints,'  were  in  use  in  the  Gallican  Creeds  of  the 
5th  cent.,  with  the  exception  of  '  maker  of  heaven 
and  earth.'  This  latest  addition  may  have  come  in 
some  way  through  the  travels  of  Columban,  who 
in  Burgundy  and  Rhaetia  came  across  relics  of  the 
Old  Latin  Church  of  the  Danube,  and  the  stream  of 
influence  which  had  flowed  from  the  East  in  earlier 
times.2  Nieetas  of  Remesiana  had  both  '  maker  of 
heaven  and  earth '  and  '  communion  of  saints '  in 
his  Creed ;  and  the  Faith  of  St.  Jerome,  recently 
discovered  by  Morin,  which  is  another  connecting 
link  between  East  and  West,  probably  includes 
phrases  which  St.  Jerome  had  learned  in  his  nativo 
Pannonian  Creed.  Any  way,  we  can  make  sure 
that  it  was  from  Rome  that  the  Received  Text  was 
finally  spread,  since  there  are  indications  that 
Pirminius  was  quoting  from  a  Roman  source,  and 
there  would  be  every  reason  for  the  decision  in 
favour  of  a  revision  of  the  Old  Roman  Creed  in  the 
light  of  experience  which  had  found  each  of  the 
added  phrases  useful.  The  desire  of  Charles  the 
Great  for  uniformity,  and  his  careful  inquiries 
about  the  different  uses  in  Gaul  and  in  Rome,  led 
to  the  triumph  of  this  Revision  throughout  the 
Western  Church,  as  the  Creed  of  daily  use,  although 
the  Baptismal  Creed  of  the  Church  of  England 
still  retains  certain  Gallican  peculiarities,  '  only- 
begotten  '  (=unigenitus,  not  unicus),  'shall  come 
again  at  the  end  of  the  world,'  and  '  everlasting  life 
after  death.'3 

2.  The  Nicene  Creed. — The  history  of  the 
Nicene  Creed  begins  with  the  Council  of  Niceea, 
when  the  Creed  presented  by  Eusebius  of  Casarea 
was  deliberately  revised  to  guard  against  the 
doctrines  of  Arianism.  Whether  he  had  composed 
it  for  the  occasion,  or  had  simply  quoted  verbatim 

1  ZNTW,  1906,  p.  202. 

2  T.  Barns,  '  Some  Creed  Problems,'  in  JThSt,  1906,  p.  601. 

3  Cf.  A.  E.  Burn,  The  Apostles'  Creed,  London,  1906,  p.  8  t 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Ecumenical) 


239 


the  Creed  of  his  Church,  is  uncertain.  So  far  as  it 
goes,  it  no  doubt  follows  the  lines  of  the  Creed  of 
Ceesarea,  as  his  opening  words  imply  ;  but  he  adds 
a  free  warning  against  Sabellianism,  and  a  Baptis- 
mal Creed  is  not  likely  to  have  ended  abruptly 
with  mention  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  But  the  Council 
was  not  satisfied.  Prompted  by  Hosius,  Bishop  of 
Cordova,  the  Emperor  Constantine  himself  pro- 
posed the  insertion  of  the  term  homoousios,  which 
guarded  against  all  evasions  of  Scripture  teaching. 
Other  changes  may  be  noted  by  comparing  the  two 
forms. 

Creed  of  Ecsebius.  Creed  of  Nicene  Council. 

We  believe  We  believe 

L  1.  in  one  God,  the  Fathe  I.  1.  in  one  God,  the  Father 

Almighty,  the  maker  Almighty,    maker  of 

of   all  things  visible  all  things  visible  and 

and  invisible.  invisible. 

II.  2.  And  in  one  Lord  Jesus       II    2.  And  in  one  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  the  Word  of  Christ,    the    Son    of 

God,    God    of    God,  God,  begotten  of  the 

Light  of   Light,  Life  Father,      only-begot- 

of  Life,  Son  Only-be-  ten,  that  is  of  the  sub- 

gotten,  first  born  of  stance  of  the  Father, 

every  creature,  before  God  of  God,  Light  of 

all  the  ages,  begotten  Light,   very    God   of 

from  the  Father,  by  very  God,  begotten, 

whom  also  all  things  not     made,    of     one 

were  made  ;  substance    with    the 

Father,  by  whom  all 
things    were     made, 
both  those  in  heaven 
and  those  on  earth. 
S.  Who  for  our  Balvation  8.  Who  for  us  men  and  for 

was  made  flesh,  and  our    salvation   came 

lived     as    a    citizen  down  and  was  made 

among  men,  flesh,    and    lived    as 

Man  among  men, 

4.  And  suffered  4.  Suffered, 

5.  And    rose    again    the  5.  And  roae  the  third  day. 

third  day, 

6.  And    ascended  to  the  6.  Ascended  into  heaven. 

Father. 

7.  7. 

8.  And  will  come  again  in  8.  Is  coming  to  judge  the 

glory    to    judge   the  quick  and  dead. 

quick  and  the  dead. 
HI.  9.  And  we  believe  also  in    III.  9.  And  in  the  Holy  Ghost. 

one  Holy  Ghost ; 
Believing  each  of  these  to  be    But  those  who  say  'Once  He 
and  to  exist,  the  Father  truly    was  not,'  and  *  Before  He  was 
Father,  and  the  Son  truly  Son,    begotten  He  was  not,'  and  '  He 
and  the  Holy  Ghost  truly  Holy    came    into    existence    out   of 
Ghost,  as  also  our  Lord,  send-    what  was  not,'  or  'That  the 
ing  forth  His  disciples  for  the    Son  of  God  was  of  a  different 
preaching,  said,  'Go  teach  all    essence  (hypostasis)  or  being 
nations,  baptizing  them  in  the    (owsi'a),'    or    '  That    He    was 
name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the    made,'    or   Ms   changeable  or 
Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost.'    mutable,'  those  the    Catholic 
Concerning    whom    we    confi-    Church  anathematizes, 
dently  affirm  that  so  we  hold, 
and  so  we  think,   and  so  we 
have  held  aforetime,  and  we 
maintain  this  faith  unto  the 
death,    anathematizing    every 
godless  heresy. 

As  Gwatkin  has  shown  so  clearly,  the  victory 
of  Nicsea  was  a  surprise  rather  than  a  solid  con- 
quest— a  revolution  which  a  minority  had  forced 
through  by  sheer  strength  of  clearer  Christian 
thought.1  Therefore  a  reaction  was  inevitable  and 
a  long  controversy  followed.  It  was  not  till  A.D. 
362  that  all  the  scheming  and  creed-making  on 
Arian  lines  came  to  an  end,  when  the  most  influen- 
tial of  the  semi-Arian  leaders,  who  had  consistently 
opposed  the  introduction  of  un-Scriptural  words, 
such  as  homoousios,  into  Creeds,  were  won  over  to 
the  orthodox  side  because  they  found  that  only 
thus  could  they  guard  the  sense  of  Scripture. 

About  this  time  many  local  Creeds  were  revised 
by  the  insertion  of  Nicene  terms.  By  far  the 
most  important  was  the  revised  Jerusalem  Creed, 
which  is  found  in  a  treatise  of  Epiphanius,  Bishop 
of  Salamis,  called  The  A  nchored  One,  written 
about  A.D.  374.  A  French  scholar  of  the  17th 
cent.,  Denys  Petau,  pointed  out  that  this  was  the 
Creed  afterwards  ascribed  to  the  Council  of  Con- 
stantinople.    But  it  was  Hort2who  first  pointed 

1  Studies  of  Arianism,  Cambridge,  1SS2,  p.  54. 

2  Two  Dissertations,  Cambridge,  1876. 


out  the  importance  of  the  argument  which  may  be 
built  up  on  the  fact,  and  his  theory  connecting  it 
with  Cyril  of  Jerusalem  has  been  accepted  by  most 
critics.  He  compared  it  with  the  form  which 
Cyril  taught  his  catechumens  in  his  Catechetical 
Lectures  (c.  347).1 

Creed  of  Jerusalem.  Creed  of  Epiphanius. 

I.  1.  We  believe  in  one  God,        I.  1.  We  believe  in  one  God, 
the  Father  Almighty,  the  Father  Almighty, 

maker  of  heaven  and  maker  of  heaven  and 

earth,     and     of     all  earth,     and     of    all 

things  visible  and  in-  things     both     visible 

visible.  and  invisible. 

II.  2.  And  in  one  Lord  Jesus      II.  2.  And  in  one  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,   the    only-be-  Christ,   the    only-be- 

gotten Son  of    God,  gotten   Son  of   God, 

begotten       of       His  begotten       of       His 

Father,     very     God,  Father      before      all 

before  all  worlds,  by  worlds— that     is     of 

whom  all  things  were  the  substance  of  the 

made,  Father,—  Light        of 

Light,  very  God  of 
very  God,  begotten, 
not  made,  being  of 
one  substance  with 
the  Father,  by  whom 
all  things  were  made, 
both  that  are  in 
heaven  and  that  are 
in  earth  ;  who  for  us 
men  and  for  our  sal- 
vation came  down 
from  heaven, 
8.  and  was  incarnate  and  8.  and  was    incarnate  of 

was  made  man,  the  Holy  Ghost  and 

the  Virgin  Mary,  and 
was  made  man, 
4.  was  crucified  and  was  4.  and  was  crucified  for 

buried,  us     under     Pontius 

Pilate,  and    suffered 
and  was  buried, 
6.  and     rose    again     the  5.  and     rose     again     the 

third  day,  third  day,  according 

to  the  Scriptures. 

6.  and      ascended      into  6.  and      ascended      into 

heaven,  heaven, 

7.  and  sat  at   the    right  7.  and  sitteth  at  the  right 

hand  of  the  Father,  hand  of  the  Father, 

8.  and  is  coming  in  glory  &  and    is   coming    again 

to    judge    the  quick  with  glory  to  judge 

and  the  dead,  whose  the    quick    and    the 

kingdom   shall    have  dead;     whose    king- 

no  end.  dom    shall    have    no 

end. 
III.  9.  And  in  one  Holy  Ghost,     III.  9.  And  in  the  Holy  Ghost, 
the    Paraclete,    who  the  Lord  and  Giver  of 

spake  in  the  prophets,  life,  who  proceedeth 

from  the  Father,  who 
with  the  Father  and 
the  Son  together  is 
worshipped  and  glori- 
fied, who  spake  by 
the  prophets : 

11.  and  in  one  baptism  of  10.  inoneHolyCatholicand 

repentance    for    the  Apostolic  Church, 

remission  of  sins, 
10.  and  in  one  Holy  Catho-  11.  We    acknowledge    one 

lie  Church,  baptism  for    the  re- 

mission of  sins. 

12.  and  in  the  resurrection  12.  We  look  for  the  resur- 

of  the  flesh,  and  in  rection  of  the  dead, 

the  life  eternal.  and    the  life   of    the 

world  to  come. 
Three  important  changes  must  be  noted,  which 
tend  to  prove  that  Cyril  was  the  author  of  this 
revision,  since  they  agree  with  the  teaching  in  his 
lectures  ;  (i.)  Art.  7  from  sat  to  sitteth;2  (ii.)  Art.  8 
from  in  glory  to  with  glory ; s  (iii. )  Art.  12  from  resur- 
rection of  the  flesh  to  resurrection  of  the  dead.*  To 
these  we  add  the  skilful  insertion  of  some  of  the 
Conciliar  language,  including  the  term  homoousios, 
which  marked  the  return  to  full  communion  with 
Athanasius  and  his  allies.  What  could  be  more 
natural  than  that  Cyril,  after  his  return  from  exile 
in  A.  D.  362-364,  should  so  revise  his  Creed  1 
Epiphanius  had  connexions  with  Jerusalem  and 
had  lived  in  Palestine,  so  his  acquaintance  with 
the  Creed  is  easily  explained.  The  theory  has 
been  questioned  by  Lebedeff,  who  maintains  that 
Epiphanius  wrote  down  the  original  Nicene  Creed, 
and  that  the  revised  Creed  has  been  interpolated 

i  Cat.  vi.-xviii.  2  jb.  xi.  17,  xiv.  17-30. 

8  lb.  xv.  3.  «  lb.  xviii.  1-21. 


340 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Ecumenical) 


by  a  copyist.  He  also  maintains  that  the  Jerusalem 
dreed  reconstructed  from  the  pages  of  Cyril  is  the 
invention  of  scholars.1  Gibson  also  calls  attention 
to  the  new  material  in  the  second  division  of  the 
Creed  '  new  both  to  the  Creed  of  Nicaaa  and  to  the 
Creed  of  Jerusalem,  so  that  even  if  the  Creed  of 
Jerusalem  lies  at  the  basis  of  the  Enlarged  Creed, 
it  has  been  revised  by  the  help  of  other  Creeds,  as 
those  of  the  Apostolic  Constitutions  and  the  Church 
of  Antioch.'2  This  dependence  had  not  escaped 
the  notice  of  Hort,  ana  the  sources  may  be  re- 
garded as  one,  since  the  Seventh  Book  of  the 
Apostolic  Constitutions  comes  from  Antioch,  and 
was  put  together  c.  A.D.  375.  Cyril's  friendship 
with  Meletius,  Bishop  of  Antioch,  is  quite  enough 
to  explain  why  he  should  also  make  use  of  the 
Creed  of  Antioch. 

We  may  regard  the  case  for  the  opposition  as 
'  not  proven,'  but  it  is  clear  that  Hort's  theory 
must  be  tested  again  in  the  light  of  all  new  evi- 
dence. He  supposed  that  the  subsequent  con- 
nexion of  the  revised  Creed  with  the  Council  of 
Constantinople  in  A.D.  381  could  be  explained  by 
the  suggestion  that  Cyril  brought  it  to  prove  his 
orthodoxy.  But,  since  Cyril's  leader,  Meletius, 
became  first  President  of  that  Council,  there 
could  be  no  question  about  Cyril.  A  more  prob- 
able theory  has  been  suggested  by  Kunze.  After 
the  death  of  Meletius,  and  the  resignation  of 
Gregory  of  Nazianzus  who  succeeded  him,  the  new 
Bishop  of  Constantinople  was  Nectarius,  Prsetor 
of  the  city,  who  at  the  time  of  his  election  was 
unbaptized.  His  name  seems  to  have  been  sug- 
gested to  the  Emperor  by  Diodore  of  Tarsus.  At 
the  end  of  the  Council  of  Chalcedon  (A.D.  451) 
all  the  Bishops  signed  the  decrees  with  little 
notes.  One  of  them,  Callinicus,  Bishop  of  Apamea 
(  =  Myrlea)  in  Bithynia,  referred  to  the  Council  of 
Constantinople  as  having  been  held  at  the  ordina- 
tion of  the  most  pious  Nectarius  the  Bishop,  and 
Kunze  suggests  that  there  was  some  connexion  in 
his  mind  between  the  Creed  and  the  consecration 
of  Nectarius.  Probably  the  revised  Creed  was 
professed  at  his  baptism,  and  became  from  that 
date  the  Baptismal  Creed  of  the  city.  It  would 
naturally  be  quoted  in  the  Acts  of  the  Council, 
now  lost,  from  which  it  was  cited  at  the  Council  of 
Chalcedon  as  the  Creed  of  the  150  Fathers,  the 
original  Nicene  Creed  being  accurately  distin- 
guished from  it  as  the  Creed  of  the  318  Fathers. 

It  is  not  easy  to  decide  on  the  true  form  of  the 
text  cited  at  Constantinople,  since  the  form  quoted 
at  the  second  Session  varied  from  the  form  quoted 
at  the  sixth  Session,  and  both  from  the  form  in 
Epiphanius.  Copyists  were  continually  at  work 
assimilating  the  forms,  and  to  them  may  be  attri- 
buted the  slight  variations  found  in  the  pages  of 
Epiphanius  which  are  printed  in  italics.  !*■■  is 
possible  that  the  variations  in  the  texts  used  at 
Chalcedon  represent  the  already  divergent  texts 
used  at  Constantinople  and  Rome.8 

The  later  history  of  the  Creed  is  coming  out  into 
clear  light.  It  is  probable  that  the  words  'and 
the  Son  '  in  the  clause  about  the  Procession  of  the 
Spirit  were  added  not  by  the  Council  of  Toledo 
in  A.D.  589,  when  King  Reccared  accepted  the 
Nicene  Creed  and  abjured  Arianism,  but  by  later 
copyists.  The  Creed  thus  interpolated  spread 
into  Gaul.  In  A.D.  802,  Charles  the  Great  sent 
a  deputation  to  consult  Pope  Leo  on  the  text, 
controversy  having  already  arisen  in  Palestine 
between  representatives  of  the  Eastern  and  Western 
Churches  on  the  point.  Leo  freely  admitted  that 
it  was  quite  orthodox  to  teach  that  the  Spirit 
proceeded  from  the  Father  and  the  Son,  but  depre- 

1  Theological  Messenger,  1902  (a  summary  of  his  argument 
was  published  in  JThSt,  Jan.  1903,  p.  285  ft.). 

2  The.  Three  Creeds,  p.  171. 

s  CI.  A.  E.  Burn,  Facsimiles  of  Creed  Texts,  Camb.  1908,  p.  16. 


cated  the  insertion  of  the  words  in  the  Creed,  tha 
Roman  Church  agreeing  with  the  Eastern  theo- 
logians as  to  its  form.  He  even  advised  the 
Emperor  to  give  up  singing  it  in  his  chapel,  thus 
emphasizing  the  interpolation.  But  the  use  con- 
tinued, and  in  A.D.  1014  the  Emperor  Henry  II. 
prevailed  on  Benedict  VIII.  '  to  chant  the  Symbol 
at  the  Holy  Mysteries' ;  and  thus  came  in  the  use 
of  the  interpolated  Creed. 

The  Western  theologians  start  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  immanent  Trinity,  from  meditation  on 
the  coinherence  of  the  Divine  Persons,  while  their 
Eastern  brethren  are  willing  to  accept  the  phrase 
'  from  the  Father  through  the  Son,'  as  guarding 
the  truth  that  there  is  only  one  Fount  of  Deity. 
It  is  one  of  the  saddest  facts  of  history  that  a 
merely  verbal  difference  should  keep  Churches 
apart,  since  frank  explanation  on  both  sides  could 
clear  up  the  theological  as  well  as  the  historical 
question. ' 

3.  The  'Athanasian'  Creed. — The  history  of  the 
so-called  Athanasian  Creed — more  correctly  desig- 
nated, after  the  analogy  of  the  Te  Deum,  by  its 
first  words,  Quicunque  vult — is  still  at  some  points 
obscure.  But  we  are  no  longer  in  doubt  as  to  the 
dates  of  the  important  MSS.  With  the  help  of 
photographs,  palaeographers  are  enabled  to  decide 
that  some  MSS  belong  to  the  8th  cent. ;  one,  in  the 
famous  Ambrosian  Library  at  Milan,  may  even  be  of 
the  end  of  the  7th  (Cod.  Ambrosianus,  O.  212  sup.). 

The  famous  two-portion  theory,  put  forward  by 
Swainson  and  Lumby,  has  been  shown  to  rest  on 
precarious  foundations,  and  may  be  dismissed  with- 
out further  notice.  We  have  not  yet  reached 
ultimate  certainty  about  small  details  in  the  text, 
the  order  of  certain  words,  the  use  of  the  conjunc- 
tion et,  or  the  claim  of  the  form  surrexit  against 
the  reading  resurrexit,  but  any  polishing  which 
the  Creed  had  received  in  the  course  of  its  long 
history  is  of  small  account,  now  that  we  can  say 
that  it  reaches  us  substantially  as  it  was  written. 
It  belongs  to  the  class  of  individual,  private  con- 
fessions of  faith,  and  is,  properly  speaking,  an 
instruction  rather  than  a  Creed,  which  may  be 
offered  as  a  substitute  for  the  Apostles'  Creed,  or 
a  canticle  parallel  to  the  Te  Deum,  with  which  it 
found  its  way  into  an  appendix  to  the  Psalter 
from  the  end  of  the  8th  century. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  it  can  be  identified 
with  'the  Faith  of  the  holy  prelate  Athanasius' 
commended  by  a  Synod  of  Autun,  which  was  pre- 
sided over  by  Bishop  Leodgar  (c.  A.D.  670),  to  be 
learnt  by  heart  by  all  clergy. 

Some  forty  years  earlier,  in  A.D.  633,  it  had  been 
quoted  by  the  Fourth  Council  of  Toledo  together 
with  the  so-called  Creed  of  Damasus.  The  clauses 
quoted  were  4,  20,  21,  22,  28,  29,  31,  33,  35,  36,  37, 
(39),  40,  so  that  it  is  evident  that  the  Spanish  theo- 
logians had  the  whole  text  before  them. 

We  can  also  trace  quotations  with  great  prob- 
ability in  the  sermons  of  Ca^sarius  of  Aries,  the 
great  preacher  of  the  6th  cent.  (t543),  as  has  been 
proved  beyond  question  by  Morin.2 

Any  doubts  which  may  be  felt  about  the  author- 
ship of  the  pseudo-Augustinian  sermon  244  do  not 
affect  the  general  argument.  Morin  pointed  out 
that  the  Creed  reproduces  both  the  qualities  and 
the  literary  defects  of  Cassarius.  In  his  recent 
lectures  at  Oxford  he  was  disposed  to  put  the  date 
later.3 

The  proof  is  not  yet  forthcoming  that  the 
Quicunque  belongs  to  the  time  of  Csesarius,  if  it  is 
not  from  his  pen.     The  argument  of  Waferland, 

1  Cf.  A.  E.  Burn,  The  Nicene  Creed,  London,  1909,  p.  40  ft. 

2  '  Le  Symbole  de  S.  Athanase  et  son  premier  temoin  :  Saint 
Cesaire  d' Aries,'  in  Revue  be'ne'dictine,  xviii.  (1900)  337  ff. 

3  JThSt,  Jan.  1911,  p.  161.  His  criticism  of  all  current 
theories,  including;  his  own,  is  too  sweeping,  but  deserves  most 
careful  study. 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Ecumenical) 


241 


that  it  belongs  to  Apollinarian  times,  still  carries 
much  weight.  The  fact  remains  that  the  illustra- 
tion from  the  constitution  of  man's  nature  in  clause 
35,  though  it  had  heen  used  freely  by  St.  Augus- 
tine, as  before  him  by  St.  Ambrose,  was  misused 
by  the  Eutychians,  who  pleaded  for  one  nature  in 
Christ,  as  soul  and  body  make  one  nature  in  man. 
After  the  rise  of  their  heresy,  Catholic  writers 
shrank  from  using  it,  but  there  is  no  hint  that  the 
author  of  the  Quicungue  feared  such  doctrine,  since 
he  could  easily  have  inserted  teaching  that  Christ 
is  consubstantial  with  us  in  the  one  nature  as  He 
is  consubstantial  with  the  Father  in  the  other. 
Such  phrases  had  been  used  in  Gaul  by  Cassian 
before  the  rise  of  Eutychianism,  and  so  were  ready 
to  hand. 

Waterland  points  out  that  the  Unity  of  Christ's 
Person  is  taught,  but  not  as  if  it  were  endangered 
by  Nestorian  error.  '  There  is  not  a  word  of  the 
Mother  of  God,  or  of  one  Son  only,  in  opposition 
to  two  Sons,  or  of  God's  being  born,  suffering, 
dying — the  kind  of  expressions  of  which  the  Creeds 
are  full  after  Nestorius's  times,  and  after  the  Coun- 
cil of  Ephesus.'1  Indeed,  the  parallels  to  clauses 
32-35  in  Vincentius  and  Faustus  are,  as  it  were, 
sharpened  by  subtle  turns  of  phrase,  just  as  we 
find  Alcuin.  and  Paulinus  of  Aquileia  sharpening 
by  slight  changes  their  quotations  from  the  Qui- 
cungue, against  the  revived  Nestorianism  of  the 
Adoptianists  of  the  8th  century. 

Moreover,  there  is  a  new  line  of  argument  which 
was  not  open  to  Waterland.  In  the  recently  dis- 
covered writings  of  Priscillian  we  have  trustworthy 
evidence  of  a  heresy  which  spread  from  Spain  to 
Gaul  in  the  beginning  of  the  5th  cent.,  and  which 
called  for  close  vigilance  and  reasoned  arguments 
from  Church  teachers  to  counteract  it.  The  de 
Fide  of  Bacchiarius  is  the  apology  of  a  monk  who 
came  from  Spain  into  Gaul  at  that  time,  and  was 
closely  examined  by  the  Gallican  bishops  as  to  his 
faith,  and  it  is  a  significant  fact  that  it  has  been 
preserved  only  in  the  Ambrosian  MS  of  the  Qui- 
cungue. The  heresy  of  Priscillian  was  both 
Sabellian  and  Apollinarian.  He  confused  the 
Persons  of  the  Trinity,  and  denied  that  the  Lord 
had  a  human  soul,  as  the  following  passages  may 
suffice  to  prove.  In  his  Blessing  over  the  Faithful 
he  writes : 

*  For  thou  art  God  who  .  .  .  art  believed  as  one  God,  invisible 
In  the  Father,  visible  in  the  Son,  and  art  found  as  Holy  Spirit 
united  in  the  work  of  both ' ; 2  and  '  Finally  our  God  assuming; 
flesh,  assigning  to  Himself  the  form  of  God  and  Man,  that  is,  of 
Divine  soul  and  human  flesh '  .  .  . s 

When  language  so  inaccurate  was  vehemently 
put  forward  as  Catholic  teaching,  there  was  need 
of  a  summary  of  Catholic  belief  on  the  Trinity  and 
the  Incarnation,  which  should  lay  due  stress  on  the 
responsibility  of  the  intellect  in  matters  of  faith, 
and  at  the  same  time  do  justice  to  the  moral 
aspect  of  these  problems,  and  prove  that  faith 
worketh  by  love,  that  only  they  that  have  done 
good  shall  go  into  life  eternal.  The  Quicungue 
exactly  meets  these  requirements.  May  it  not 
have  been  written  for  the  purpose  ?  4 

This  suggestion  of  the  present  writer  has  been 
warmly  accepted  by  Kiinstle,6  who  has  made  a 
special  study  of  Spanish  canons  and  treatises 
against  Priscillianism,  though  he  vitiates  the  argu- 
ment by  assuming  that  all  such  writings  against 
Priscillian  must  have  a  Spanish  origin — for  which 
there  is  no  proof. 

From  the  time  of  Antelmi  the  parallels  in  the 
Commonitorium  of  Vincentius  of  Lerins  have  been 
held  to  prove  his  acquaintance  with  the  Quicungue, 
'S  not  his  authorship,  which  seemed  probable  to 

1  Critical  History,  p.  149. 

2  Ed.  Schepss,  Vienna,  1889,  p.  103. 

5  lb.,  Tract,  vi.  §  99. 

*  Of.  A.  E.  Burn,  Introd.  to  the  Creeds,  p.  144. 

6  Antipriscilliana,  p.  222. 
VOL.  IV. — 16 


Ommanney  (1897)  as  to  Antelmi  (1693).  Perhaps 
it  is  rash  to  attempt  to  discover  the  author.  Cer- 
tainly Waterland  s  quotation  from  the  funeral 
sermon  which  Hilary  of  Aries  preached  after  the 
death  of  Honoratus,  his  predecessor  both  in  the 
See  of  Aries  and  in  the  Abbey  of  Lerins,  if  it 
suggests  acquaintance  with  the  Quicungue,  sug- 
gests also  that  Honoratus,  rather  than  Hilary, 
was  the  author : 

'  A  daily  witness  wast  thou,  moreover,  in  thy  most  sincere 
discourses  of  the  confession  of  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit : 
nor  surely  has  any  one  treated  so  emphatically,  so  clearly,  of  the 
Trinity  of  the  Godhead,  since  thou  didst  distinguish  the  Persons 
therein  and  yet  didst  associate  them  in  eternity  and  majesty  of 
glory  '  (  Vita  Honorati,  38> 

With  this  we  may  compare  a  quotation  from  a 
sermon  on  the  same  lines  by  Faustus,  who,  like 
Hilary,  had  been  a  loyal  disciple  of  Honoratus  : 

'Therefore,  beloved,  that  we  may  gain  that  which  he  has 
obtained,  let  us  first  follow  that  which  he  taught :  and,  first  of 
all,  let  us  hold  the  right  faith  :  let  us  believe  Father  and  Son 
and  Holy  Ghost  (to  be)  one  God.  For,  where  there  is  unity, 
there  cannot  be  inequality :  and,  since  the  Son,  because  He  is 
God,  is  perfect,  complete,  and  full,  that  fullness  certainly  cannot 
be  described  as  "  less  "  '  (in  Depositione  S.  Honorati). 

Whatever  may  be  thought  about  the  praise  here 
given  to  Honoratus  as  a  teacher  on  the  very  lines 
of  the  Quicungue,  there  can  be  no  question  as  to 
the  ability  and  earnestness  of  the  community 
which  he  had  gathered  round  him  during  the  years 
A.D.  420-430.  In  their  happy  island-home  was 
focused  all  that  the  Gallican  Church  could  show  of 
learning  and  piety.  Their  age  contrasts  favour- 
ably with  the  following  century,  when  Ca3sarius 
represents  the  last  hope  of  the  ancient  culture, 
and  when  the  rising  tide  of  barbarism  was  about 
to  sweep  away  all  its  landmarks — a  century  in 
which  the  composition  of  the  Quicungue  would 
seem  to  be  incredible. 

The  arguments  of  Brewer,  that  the  Quicunqite  is  a  work  of 
St.  Ambrose,  have  not  received  any  measure  of  support,  and  do 
not  seem  to  be  based  on  any  fresh  evidence  ;  but  they  certainly 
strengthen  the  argument  for  a  6th  cent,  date,  by  proving,  far 
more  conclusively  than  any  one  has  hitherto  discovered,  that 
St.  Ambrose,  no  less  than  St.  Augustine,  came  close  to  the  very 
language  of  the  Creed. 

The  early  history  of  the  Creed  is,  however,  of 
less  importance  than  the  history  of  its  use.  The 
revived  interest  in  Church  music,  which  was 
fostered  in  the  schools  of  Charles  the  Great,  led  to 
its  use  as  a  Canticle.  Abbot  Angilbert  of  St. 
Riquier  (c.  814)  records  that  it  was  sung  in  pro- 
cession on  Rogation  Days,  and  before  long  it  was 
so  sung  in  the  Office  of  Prime.  But  such  was  not 
the  only  use  made  of  it,  or,  indeed,  the  most 
primitive,  since  the  extremely  interesting  preface 
to  the  (so-called)  Oratorian  Commentary,  possibly 
from  the  pen  of  Theodulf  of  Orleans,  speaks  of  its 
use  by  clergy  as  a  manual  of  Christian  teaching, 
which  reminds  us  of  the  Canon  of  Autun  as  well 
as  of  the  use  made  of  it  by  Caesarius.  Address- 
ing a  Synod,  the  writer  says  that  he  has  carried 
out  their  instructions  '  to  provide  an  exposition 
of  this  work  on  the  Faith,  which  is  up  and  down 
recited  in  our  churches  and  continually  made  the 
subject  of  meditation  by  our  priests.'  Similar 
use  is  directed  in  the  9th  cent,  by  many  prominent 
teachers — Hayto  of  Basel,  Anskar  of  Bremen,  and 
Hincmar  of  Rheinis. 

In  the  Middle  Ages  the  use  at  Prime  spread 
everywhere,  and  recent  researches  have  proved 
that  the  whole  service  of  Matins,  including  Lauds, 
Prime,  and  Terce,  was  most  popular  in  England  as 
a  preparation  for  the  Mass.  William  Langland, 
in  '  Piers  the  Plowman,'  at  the  end  of  the  14th 
cent.,  writes  of  the  duty  of  all  classes  to  cease 
from  work  on  Sundays,  '  God's  service  to  hear, 
Both  Matins  and  Mass.'  But  the  fact  remains 
that  comparatively  few  of  the  people  understood 
Latin,  although  the  devout  layman  of  the  upper 
classes  who  could  afford  to  possess  a  breviary 
would,  of  course,  be  able  to  read  and  follow  it  in 


242 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Egyptian) 


the  Office.  There  are  several  early  translations 
into  the  vernacular,  at  one  time  Norman  French, 
at  another  Old  English  ;  but  there  is  no  evidence 
of  any  wide-spread  acquaintance  with  it  in  such 
translations.  In  the  First  Prayer  Book  of  Edward 
VI.  the  English  Keformers  directed  that  the 
Athanasian  Creed  should  be  '  sung  or  said '  after 
the  Benedictus,  at  the  greater  Feasts.  In  the 
Second  Prayer  Book  the  number  of  Feasts  was 
increased  at  which  the  use  of  it  was  obligatory, 
and  only  in  1662  was  it  substituted  for  the  Apostles' 
Creed,  which  had  hitherto  followed  it. 

In  the  controversy  of  the  present  day  no  amended 
translation  is  likely  to  bring  peace,  such  as  the 
translation  put  forward  by  the  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury's Committee.  The  real  crux  lies  in  the 
difficulty  which  is  felt  about  using  the  warning 
clauses  in  a  mixed  congregation  on  days  when  it 
is  impossible  to  preach  an  explanatory  sermon.  A 
relaxation  of  the  rule,  such  as  permission  to  use  it 
at  the  first  evensong  of  the  Festivals  of  Christmas, 
Easter,  anil  Whitsunday  (when  the  clergy,  and 
presumably  the  instructed  faithful,  could  well  make 
it,  as  the  author  of  the  Oratorian  Commentary 
suggests,  'a  subject  of  meditation'),  would  meet 
the  difficulties  of  wounded  consciences  on  both 
sides.  The  Roman  Catholic  Church  uses  it  still  in 
Prime,  chiefly  in  Advent  and  Lent.  The  Eastern 
Church  has  only  put  it  in  an  Appendix  to  the 
Hour  Offices,  without  any  directions  for  use. 

Conclusion. — Looking  back  over  the  history  of 
the  three  great  Creeds,  one  is  amazed  at  the  com- 
parative simplicity  of  the  great  truths  thus  singled 
out  by  the  common  sense  of  the  Church,  through 
the  centuries,  as  of  primary  importance.  We  are 
not  concerned  with  the  credibility  of  miracles  as 
such,  only  with  the  evidence  that  the  first  wit- 
nesses believed  that  Christ  rose  from  the  dead  and 
sent  down  His  Spirit.  The  earliest  forms  of  Creed 
present  an  Historic  Faith  which  summed  up  their 
gratitude  for  the  mystery  at  last  revealed  through 
the  Spirit  to  the  Church,  with  the  assurance  of 
forgiveness  of  sins  and  resurrection  to  a  better 
life.  The  theological  terms  of  the  Nicene  and 
Athanasian  Creeds  do  not  bring  in  metaphysics  of 
set  purpose,  or  condemn  the  Church  to  wander  in 
a  barren  wilderness  of  controversy.  Athanasius 
himself  did  not  invent  or  suggest  the  use  of  the 
phrase  '  of  one  substance.'  He  was  moulded  by  it. 
He  found  in  it  a  bulwark  of  the  ancient  belief 
that  the  Son  was  one  with  the  Father  (Jn  1030) 
and  to  be  worshipped  with  Him.  He  had  no  word 
for  'Person.'  It  was  reserved  for  the  genius  of 
Augustine  to  make  that  term  current  coin,  even 
though  he  shrank  from  the  boldness  of  his  thought. 
Let  us  note  that  it  was  on  psychological  rather 
than  metaphysical  lines  that  he  approached  the 
problem,  led  on  by  deep  musing  on  the  mystery  of 
his  own  personality  to  speculation  on  the  deeper 
mystery  of  Divine  Personality.  And  in  the  first 
part  of  the  Quicunque,  whether  the  author  owed 
little  or  much  to  Augustine,  it  is  by  the  measure 
of  such  musings  that  it  must  be  valued.  The  very 
bravery  of  the  antitheses  ranging  through  the 
great  series  of  Divine  attributes — uncreated,  in- 
finite, eternal,  almighty — shadows  forth  the  truth 
of  the  equal  glory  and  co-eternal  majesty,  and 
excludes  every  rationalistic  explanation— Sabel- 
lian,  Arian,  or  Priscillianist.  But  this  is  definitely 
the  Creed  of  the  Church  teacher,  face  to  face  with 
errors  which  are  common  to  the  human  mind  in 
every  age  and  everywhere.  In  the  hour  of  death 
the  words  of  the  ancient  Baptismal  Creed  suffice 
as  '  an  anchor  of  the  soul  .  .  .  entering  into  that 
which  is  within  the  veil '  (He  619). 
See  also  Confessions. 

Literatcrs. — H.  Brewer,   Das  sog°.nannte  Athanas.  Glau- 
bensbekcnntms  eiti  WerK  des  heiligen  Ambrosius,  Paderborn, 


1909 ;  A.  E.  Burn,  Introd.  to  the  Creeds,  London,  1899 ;  E.  C. 
S.  Gibson,  The  Three  Creeds,  Lond.  and  N.Y.  1908;  F. 
Kattenbusch,  Das  apostol.  Symbol,  Leipzig,  1900  ;  K.  Kiinstie, 
Antipriscilliana,  Freiburg  i.  Br.  1905 ;  J.  Kunze,  Das  nican.- 
konstantinopol.  Symbol,  Leipzig,  1898 ;  C.  H.  Turner,  History 
and  Use  of  Creeds  and  Anathemas,  London,  1908  ;  D.  Water- 
land,  A  Critical  History  of  the  Athanasian  Creed,  ed.  J.  R. 
King,  Oxford,  1870 ;  T.  Zahn,  Das  apostol.  Symbolum,  Leipzig, 

1893.  a.  E.  Burn. 

CREED  (Egyptian). — In  seeking  to  arrive  at 
a  conception  of  the  Egyptian  creed,  we  are  met 
by  the  fact  that,  generally  speaking,  the  Egyptian 
never  attempted  to  formulate  or  define  a  body  of 
doctrine  with  regard  to  the  multitude  of  gods 
worshipped  in  his  land.  This  absence  of  any 
systematic  theology  is  due  mainly  to  the  pre- 
valence of  the  idea  of  the  local  god.  The  Egyptian 
State  rose  out  of  a  number  of  small  independent 
tribes,  and,  even  after  the  unification  of  the  king- 
dom at  the  beginning  of  the  Dynastic  period,  tha 
original  subdivisions  still  existed  in  the  shape  of 
the  '  nomes '  or  provinces,  roughly  42  in  number, 
into  which  the  land  was  divided.  Each  original 
tribe  possessed  its  own  local  god,  supreme  in  his 
own  district ;  and  these  gods  continued  to  be 
worshipped  as  separate  divinities,  though  they 
were,  in  many  cases,  mere  duplicates  of  those 
existing  in  other  localities.  The  Egyptian  never 
attempted  to  bring  any  unity  out  of  this  confused 
mass  of  deities,  to  reduce  to  order  the  conceptions 
held  with  regard  to  them,  or  to  discard  their  in- 
consistencies and  contradictions.  If,  as  frequently 
happened,  one  local  god  came  to  be  acknow- 
ledged in  another  locality,  his  new  worshippers 
simply  took  over  his  old  titles  and  myths,  tegard- 
less  of  the  fact  that  thus  they  sometimes  duplicated 
the  legends  of  their  own  local  god,  and  sometimes 
introduced  contradictions  to  them.  The  extra- 
ordinary confusion  of  ideas  thus  produced  is 
apparent  everywhere,  and  can  perhaps  be  soen 
most  clearly  in  the  different  strata  of  beliefs  vith 
regard  to  the  life  after  death  which  lay  side  by 
side  in  the  Egyptian  mind,  apparently  without  its 
ever  being  perceived  that  they  were  inconsistent 
with  one  another,  or  at  legist  without  any  attempt 
being  made  to  remove  their  contradictions  and  to 
arrive  at  a  coherent  system  of  belief. 

This  statement  has  to  be  qualified  to  some 
extent  by  the  fact  that,  at  certain  periods  of 
Egyptian  history,  particular  gods  did  rise  to  much 
more  than  merely  local  supremacy,  and  attained  a 
more  or  less  general  acknowledgment.  Thus  from 
the  time  of  the  Vth  dynasty  the  solar  god  Ra,  who 
was  looked  upon  as  the  founder  of  the  reigning 
house,  rose  into  prominence,  and  from  that  time 
onwards  secured  fairly  general  acknowledgment, 
the  local  gods  being  frequently  identified  with 
him.  In  the  XVIIIth  dynasty,  again,  Amen,  the 
local  god  of  Thebes,  rose,  with  the  rise  of  the 
Theban  princes,  to  a  position  of  supremacy  which 
was  not  lost  till  far  on  in  the  decline  of  the  Empire. 
And  the  worship  of  Osiris,  the  god  of  the  dead  and 
of  the  resurrection — probably  one  of  the  very  oldest 
of  Egyptian  cults — was  always  more  or  less  general, 
though  he,  too,  had  his  local  supremacy.  In  spite, 
however,  of  these  exceptions,  the  local  gods  still 
continued  to  be  worshipped  side  by  side  with  the 
deity  whose  cult  was  for  the  time  prevalent,  and 
their  myths  were  still  accepted,  regardless  of  the 
fact  that  they  might  be  either  identical  with,  or 
contradictory  to,  those  of  their  brother  god.  It  is 
evident,  therefore,  that  we  cannot  expect  to  find 
any  single  and  definite  summary  of  doctrine  which 
can  be  called  the  Egyptian  '  creed.'  All  that  can 
be  done  is  to  summarize  the  beliefs  most  generally 
accepted  on  certain  aspects  of  religion. 

i.  Beliefs  with  regard  to  the  Creation  and  the 
cosmic  gods. — Various  attempts  were  made  to 
arrivn  at  something  like  a  systematic  idea  ol  the 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Egyptian) 


243 


cosmic  gods  and  their  relationship  to  the  Creation. 
The  most  complete  and  popular  of  these  was  due 
to  the  priestly  college  of  An,  or  Heliopolis  (the 
Biblical  On).  The  priests  of  the  sun-god  at  this 
town — from  the  most  ancient  times  the  most  noted 
theological  centre  of  Egypt — elaborated  at  a  very 
early  period  a  scheme  of  the  relationship  of  the 
various  members  of  the  cycle  of  cosmic  gods  to  one 
another  and  to  the  universe,  and  their  doctrine  of 
the  great  Heliopolitan  ennead  gives  us  what  was 
perhaps  the  prevailing  belief  in  the  land,  though  it 
was  held  with  various  modifications  in  different 
localities.  In  their  scheme  there  existed  in  the 
beginning  a  primordial  liquid  element,  the  Nun  or 
Nu,  from  which  there  emerged  the  sun-god  Ra- 
Tum.  Ra-Tum  begat  of  himself,  and  produced 
the  male  and  female  divinities  Shu  and  Tefnut, 
who  may  be  regarded  as  representing  air  (or  the 
firmament)  and  moisture.  From  Shu  and  Tefnut, 
or  perhaps  by  a  fresh  procession  from  Ra,  came 
Seb  and  Nut,  the  earth  and  the  starry  heaven,  and 
from  Seb  and  Nut  came  the  two  further  pairs  of 
gods,  Osiris  and  Isis  (the  Nile  and  the  fruitful 
ground  [?]),  and  Set  and  Nephthys  (the  barren  desert 
land  and  its  animal  life  [?]).  The  Creation  reached 
its  present  form  by  the  interposition  of  Shu,  the 
air-god,  who  came  between  Seb  and  Nut,  the  earth 
and  the  heavens,  as  they  were  locked  in  embrace, 
and  lifted  up  Nut,  who  since  his  interposition 
stands  arched  over  Seb,  her  hands  and  feet  touching 
the  earth  at  the  cardinal  points,  and  her  body 
adorned  with  the  stars. 

The  Heliopolitan  ennead  must  have  been  formu- 
lated at  a  very  early  period  of  Egyptian  history, 
for  in  the  Pyramid  texts  the  list  of  the  nine  gods 
is  given  as  above.  The  popularity  of  this  scheme 
gave  rise  to  various  imitations  of  it,  and  other 
towns  and  districts  formed  enneads  of  their  own, 
sometimes  displacing  one  of  the  nine  gods  of  Helio- 
polis to  make  room  for  their  own  local  god,  some- 
times adding  him  to  the  nine,  careless  of  the  fact 
that  thus  their  ennead  contained  ten  divinities. 
Even  as  thus  modified  to  suit  local  preferences, 
however,  the  Heliopolitan  scheme  did  not  meet 
with  universal  acceptance,  and  side  by  side  with 
its  doctrine  of  creation  there  existed  other  beliefs 
quite  inconsistent  with  it.  At  Memphis  the  fabri- 
cation of  the  world  was  attributed  to  Ptah,  who 
carved  the  earth  like  a  statue  ;  at  Elephantine  to 
Khnum,  who  fashioned  the  world-egg  like  a  potter 
working  with  his  wheel ;  and  at  Sais  to  Neith, 
who  wove  the  universe  as  a  weaver  weaves  a  piece 
of  cloth.  In  the  Creation-story  preserved  in  the 
famous  legend  of  the  destruction  of  mankind,  the 
heavens  are  represented,  not  by  the  woman-goddess 
Nut,  but  by  the  celestial  cow,  across  whose  body 
the  sun-god  journeys  in  his  barque.  It  is  probable 
that  this  attempt  at  a  scientific  grouping  of  the 
gods  and  explanation  of  the  Creation  was  not  so 
much  a  popular  doctrine  asa  cherished  possession  of 
the  various  priestly  colleges,  who  elaborated  it  and 
modified  it  to  suit  their  local  tastes  and  rivalries. 
See  Cosmogony  and  Cosmology  (Egyp.). 

2.  Beliefs  with  regard  to  immortality  and  the 
life  after  death. — In  dealing  with  these,  we  come 
into  touch  with  what  probably  makes  the  nearest 
approach  to  a  universally  accepted  body  of  doctrine 
to  which  the  Egyptians  ever  attained.  The  idea 
of  immortality  has  been  nowhere  more  tenaciously 
held  than  in  ancient  Egypt,  and  the  documents 
relating  to  it  have  an  overwhelming  preponderance 
in  the  religious  literature  of  the  nation.  The  most 
accepted  form  of  belief  is  that  associated  with  the 
cycle  of  Osiris  legends.  Osiris  appears  in  the 
Heliopolitan  ennead,  though  in  a  comparatively 
subordinate  position  ;  but  as  early  as  the  period  of 
the  Pyramid  texts  he  figures  in  a  much  more 
important  r61e  as  the  god  of  the  dead  and   the 


source  of  immortal  life  to  the  blessed  dead.  The 
details  of  his  myth  do  not  concern  us  ;  but,  briefly, 
the  doctrine  of  the  Egyptian  religion  taught  that 
Osiris,  a  beneficent  god  and  king,  after  being 
slain  by  the  treachery  of  Set  his  malevolent 
antithesis,  was  restored  to  life  again,  justified 
before  the  gods  against  the  accusations  of  Set,  and 
made  god  and  judge  in  the  under  world.  Already 
by  the  time  of  the  Vth  dynasty  the  idea  had  been 
conceived  that  the  story  of  Osiris  was  repeated  in 
the  case  of  each  Pharaoh,  and  the  conception 
gradually  filtered  down,  until  it  was  held  that 
every  man  who  was  possessed  of  the  necessary 
knowledge  might  after  death  become  an  Osiris,  be 
restored  to  life,  be  justified  before  the  gods,  and 
enter  into  everlasting  blessedness.  Practically  the 
Egyptian  believed,  from  the  earliest  historical 
period,  that,  because  Osiris  died  and  rose  again, 
and  after  being  justified  entered  into  everlasting 
life,  therefore  those  who  believed  in  him  would 
share  the  same  destiny.  Ch.  cliv.  of  the  Book  of 
the  Dead  makes  the  definite  assertion  of  parallelism 
between  the  god  and  his  worshipper  : 

'  Homage  to  thee,  O  my  divine  father  Osiris  1  Thou  hast  thy 
body  with  thy  members.  Thou  didst  not  decay  .  .  .  thou  didst 
not  become  corruption.  I  shall  not  decay  .  .  .  and  I  shall  not 
see  corruption  ...  I  shall  have  my  being,  I  Bhall  live,  I  shall 
germinate,  I  shall  wake  up  in  peace.' 

It  is  impossible  to  say  whether  or  not  the 
Egyptian  believed  that  Osiris  suffered  death  on 
his  behalf  ;  certainly  he  believed  that  there  was  an 
essential  connexion  between  the  death  and  resur- 
rection of  Osiris  and  his  own  immortality.  This 
belief  is  held,  with  no  essential  variations,  through- 
out the  whole  historic  period. 

Definiteness  ceases  at  once,  however,  when  we 
pass  from  the  fact  of  immortal  life  to  the  manner 
in  which  it  is  to  be  spent.  Nowhere  is  the  jumble 
of  inconsistencies,  which  seemingly  never  worried 
the  Egyptian  mind,  more  hopeless  than  here.  The 
prominent  beliefs  regarding  the  state  and  the 
abode  of  the  blessed  dead  are  at  least  four  in 
number,  each  quite  distinct  from,  and  quite  in- 
consistent with,  all  the  others.  The  oldest  and 
most  wide-spread  belief  was  that  after  death  the 
deceased  leads  a  second  life  under  much  the  same 
conditions  as  those  which  ruled  the  first,  dependent 
upon  constant  supplies  of  food  and  drink,  and 
partaking  in  his  new  existence  of  joys  similar  to 
those  of  his  former  state.  In  this  state  the  centre 
of  the  life  after  death  is  the  tomb.  Another  very 
ancient  idea  places  the  abode  of  the  dead  in  heaven, 
where  they  shine  as  stars  in  the  firmament,  and 
are  privileged  to  take  a  place  in  the  barque  of  the 
sun-god  and  to  accompany  him  on  his  voyage 
through  the  heavens.  A  third  conception  assigns 
to  the  blessed  dead  a  life  of  blissful  labour  and 
pleasure  in  the  Egyptian  Elysian  Fields.  The 
dead  man  flies  up  to  heaven  like  a  bird,  or  ascends 
a  gigantic  ladder,  and,  after  passing  through  many 
difficulties,  arrives  at  the  Sekhet-Aaru,  or  '  Field 
of  Bulrushes,'  where  he  spends  his  time  in  the 
same  agricultural  pursuits  and  field-sports  which 
had  occupied  him  on  earth. 

Finally,  another  belief  was  that  the  souls  of  the 
departed  dwell  in  the  under  world  through  which 
the  sun  passes  during  the  hours  of  the  night — a 
land  that  in  the  daytime  is  one  of  darkness  and 
desolation.  Only  at  night,  as  the  sun  in  his  barque 
passes  through  the  twelve  domains  of  the  darkness, 
do  the  deceased  experience  something  of  joy  and 
activity  in  the  hour  when  he  traverses  the  particular 
domain  in  which  their  lot  is  cast.  Later  the  belief 
arose  that  the  illuminated  soul,  if  instructed  in  the 
proper  formulse,  might  share  the  voyage  of  the 
god  through  the  Duat,  or  under  world,  instead  of 
merely  being  gladdened  by  a  passing  glimpse  of 
him.  These  various  views  co-existed  with  the 
Osirian  doctrine,  though  they  are  essentially  quite 


844 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Jewisn, 


independent  of  it,  and,  indeed,  can  be  accom- 
modated to  it  only  with  difficulty.  The  popularity 
of  the  last  of  them — the  belief  in  the  abode  in  the 
Duat,  and  the  voyage  of  the  sun-god  there — was 
mainly  confined  to  the  period  of  the  XlXth  and 
XXth  dynasties. 

3.  Beliefs  with  regard  to  the  nature  and  attri- 
butes of  the  gods. — Discarding  all  that  is  of  merely 
local  significance  in  regard  to  the  various  divinities, 
it  is  possible  to  arrive  at  a  fairly  clear  idea  of  what 
the  Egyptian  believed  concerning  the  nature  of  the 
gods.  The  material  is  mainly  to  be  found  in  the 
various  hymns  extant,  and  especially  in  those 
addressed  to  Ra,  to  Amen-Ka,  to  Osiris,  and  to  the 
Aten,  the  god  whom  Amenhotep  IV.  (Akhenaten) 
attempted  to  make  sole  god  of  Egypt.  In  most  of 
these  hymns  we  are  met  by  a  great  and  almost 
meaningless  accumulation  of  epithets  which  are 
applied  indifferently  to  various  gods  in  the  most 
bewildering  fashion.  Setting  these  aside  as  mere 
formalities,  we  generally  find  a  residuum  of  evi- 
dence as  to  the  nature  of  the  god  who  is  being 
addressed.  Thus,  from  a  fine  hymn  to  Amen  at 
Cairo,  we  have  the  following  : 

'  Sole  form,  producing  all  things,  the  one,  the  sole  one,  who 
creates  all  beings.  All  human  beings  have  come  from  his  eye, 
and  the  gods  from  the  word  of  his  mouth.  He  it  is  who  makes 
pastures  for  the  herds  and  fruit-trees  for  men  ;  who  creates  that 
whereby  fish  live  in  the  river  and  the  birds  under  the  heavens. 
.  .  .'  Amen  is  thus  the  creator  and  sustainer  of  being.  Further, 
he  is  a  god  of  mercy  and  justice,  '  listening  to  the  poor  who  is 
in  distress,  gentle  of  heart  when  one  cries  unto  him  ;  deliverer 
of  the  timid  man  from  the  violent,  judging  the  poor  and  the 
oppressed.  .  .  .  Lord  of  mercy  most  loving,  at  whose  coming 
men  live.  .  .  .  Maker  of  beings,  Creator  of  existences,  Sovereign 
of  life,  health,  and  strength,  chief  of  the  gods.  We  worship  thy 
spirit,  who  alone  hast  made  us,  ...  we  give  thee  praise  on 
account  of  thy  mercy  to  us.' 

Again,  from  a  hymn  to  Ka  in  the  papyrus  of 
Hu-nefer,  we  have  a  remarkably  clear  statement 
of  the  unity,  the  eternity,  and  the  inscrutable 
nature  of  the  god  : 

*  Thou  art  unknown,  and  no  tongue  is  worthy  to  declare  thy 
likeness ;  only  thou  thyself.  Thou  art  One.  .  .  .  Millions  of 
years  have  gone  over  the  world ;  I  cannot  tell  the  number  of 
those  through  which  thou  hast  passed.  Thou  dost  travel  through 
unknown  spaces  requiring  millions  and  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  years.  .  .  .  This  thou  doest  in  one  little  moment  of  time.' 

Strangely  enough,  it  is  in  the  hymns  to  Osiris, 
otherwise  '  the  most  human  of  all  the  gods,'  that 
we  find,  on  the  whole,  the  most  endless  multiplica- 
tion of  ceremonial  epithets,  and  the  greatest  dearth 
of  statement  as  to  his  nature  and  attributes.  There 
are,  of  course,  in  the  hymns  and  other  portions  of 
the  Book  of  the  Dead  frequent  references  to  his 
functions  as  the  bestower  of  immortality,  and 
prayers  that  the  deceased  might  share  in  ever- 
lasting life ;  beyond  that  there  is  little  that  distin- 
guishes him  from  such  gods  as  Amen  and  Ra.  One 
of  the  best  known  of  his  hymns  has  the  following  : 

'  The  circle  of  the  solar  disk  is  under  his  orders ;  winds,  rivers, 
inundation,  fruit-trees,  as  well  as  all  the  annual  plants.  .  .  . 
Every  being  invokes  him,  every  man  adores  his  beauties.  De- 
lightful for  us  is  his  love  ;  his  grace  environs  the  heart.' 

There  is  nothing  here  which  might  not  be  said 
of  Ra,  Amen,  or  any  other  of  the  great  gods. 

By  far  the  most  remarkable  statement  of  belief 
in  Egyptian  religious  literature  is  to  be  found  in 
the  hymns  addressed  to  the  Aten,  or  vital  power 
of  the  solar  disk,  the  god  of  the  heretic  king 
Akhenaten  (XVIIIth  dynasty).  These  hymns,  the 
composition  of  which  has  been  ascribed  to  the  king 
himself,  express  the  elements  of  that  belief  in  a 
sole  god,  invisible,  spiritual,  and  universal,  which 
Akhenaten  endeavoured  to  make  the  national 
religion.  The  longer  of  the  hymns  has  been 
frequently  translated,  and  its  teaching  may  be 
summarized  as  follows : 

To  Aten  is  ascribed  rule  over  the  times  of  the  day  and  the 
activities  of  men  and  animals.  The  strength  in  which  men  go 
forth  to  their  labours  comes  from  him,  and  all  the  blessings  with 
which  the  creatures,  even  to  the  fishes  in  the  river  and  the 
depths  of  the  sea,  are  endowed  are  his  gifts.  He  is  confessed  as 
the  source  of  life,  alike  in  man  and  in  the  smallest  of  created 
existences.     '  Thou  createst  conception  in  women,  making  the 


issue  of  mankind  .  .  .  the  small  bird  in  the  egg,  chirping  within 
the  shell,  thou  givest  it  its  breath  within  the  egg.'  Aten  is 
omnipresent,  and  is  the  universal  god  of  all  mankind,  appoint- 
ing to  men  their  different  abodes,  and  their  diversity  of  appear- 
ance and  speech.  '  In  the  hills  from  Syria  to  Kush,  and  in  the 
plain  of  Egypt,  thou  givest  to  every  one  his  place,  thou  framest 
their  lives,  to  every  one  his  belongings,  reckoning  his  length  of 
days..  .  .  As  a  divider  thou  dividest  the  strange  peoples '  (cf.  Ac 
1734-28).  Further,  Aten  is  the  source  of  all  fertility  in  the  world, 
the  maker  of  that  Nile  in  heaven  which  brings  rain  for  the  out- 
landish folk,  and  of  the  Nile  from  the  nether  world  which 
fertilizes  Egypt.  '  Thou  placest  a  Nile  in  heaven,  that  it  may 
rain  upon  them.  .  .  .  O,  Lord  of  Eternity,  the  Nile  in  heaven  is 
for  the  strange  people  .  .  .  the  Nile  that  cometh  from  below 
the  earth  is  for  the  land  of  Egypt,  that  it  may  nourish  every 
field.'  Finally,  he  is  the  creator  of  the  seasons  and  the  maker  of 
the  far-off  heaven  for  his  own  abode.  The  hymn  closes  with  a 
notable  declaration  of  personal  relationship  to  God  :  '  Thou  art 
in  my  heart,  there  is  none  other  that  knoweth  thee,  save  thy  son 
Akhenaten.  Thou  hast  made  him  wise  in  thy  designs  and  thy 
might.  .  .  .  Thou  hast  raised  them  up  for  thy  son,  who  came 
forth  from  thy  limbs,  the  king  living  in  Truth,  the  Lord  of  the 
Two  Lands,  Nefer-kheperu-ra-ua-en-ra.' 

On  the  whole,  while  the  hymn  to  Aten  is  im- 
measurably finer  as  a  poetical  composition  than  the 
hymns  to  the  other  gods,  it  can  scarcely  be  said  to 
present  any  very  original  thoughts,  two  points 
being  excepted.  All  the  statements  about  the 
creative  and  sustaining  power  of  the  Aten  could  be 
fairly  matched  in  substance  by  phrases  from  hymns 
to  Ra  and  Amen.  The  real  distinctions  of  the 
poem  are  its  acknowledgment  of  a  god  who  is 
universal,  whose  providence  and  rule  are  not  for 
Egypt  alone,  but  for  all  lands ;  and  its  profession 
of  a  personal  relationship  of  faith  and  inspiration 
between  the  royal  psalmist  and  his  divinity. 

Summing  up,  we  find  that,  in  his  best  presenta- 
tions of  his  faith,  the  Egyptian  professed  belief  in 
a  self-existent  God  who  was  the  Creator  and  Pre- 
server of  all  things,  merciful  and  gentle,  specially 
careful  of  the  most  helpless  of  His  children, 
invisible  and  inscrutable,  one  alone,  eternal,  om- 
niscient, and  omnipresent ;  while  the  development 
of  thought  under  Akhenaten  gives  the  further 
conceptions  of  His  spirituality,  His  universality, 
and  His  personal  relationship  to  His  adorer.  All 
this  was  overlaid  and  confused  by  the  chaos  of 
merely  local  aspects  of  divinity  which  forms  the 
surface  of  Egyptian  religion  ;  but  still  this  was 
the  nature  of  the  God  behind  the  gods  of  Egypt. 

Literature. — A.  Erman,  Handbook  of  Egyp.  Religion,  Lon- 
don 1907 ;  E.  Naville,  The  Old  Egyp.  Faith,  London,  1909 ; 
G.  Maspero,  Hist.  anc.  des  peuples  de  VOrlent  classique,  vol.  i.t 
'  Les  Origines'  (Eng.  tr.,  The  Davm  of  Civilization,  London, 
1894),  Inscrip.  des  pyram.  de  Saqqarah,  Paris,  1894 ;  A. 
Wiedemann,  Rel.  of  the  Anc.  Egyptians,  London,  1897,  Anc. 
Egyp.  Doct.  of  Immortality,  London,  1895,  art.  '  Rel.  of  Egypt,' 
in  HDD,  v.  176  ff. ;  E.  A.  W.  Budge,  The  Gods  of  the  Egyp- 
tians, London,  1904,  Egyp.  Religion,  London,  1900,  The  Book 
of  the  Dead,  London,  1898 ;  P.  Le  Page  Renouf,  Origin  and 
Growth  of  Relig.  of  anc.  Egypt  (Hib.  Lect.  for  1879,  4th  ed.  1897)  ; 
G.  Steindorff,  Rel.  of  the  Anc.  Egyptians,  London,  1905  ;  J.  H. 
Breasted,  Hist,  of  Egypt,  London,  1906,  De  Hymnis  in  Solem 
sub  rege  Amenophide  IV.  conceptis,  Berlin,  1894 ;  M.  Benson- 
J.  Gourlay,  The  Temple  of  Mut  in  Asher,  London,  1899; 
W.  M.  F.  Petrie,  Rel.  of  Anc.  Egypt,  London,  1906,  Hist,  of 
Egypt,  London,  1896,  ii.  211-218.  JAMES  BaIKIE. 

CREED  (Jewish). — Articles  of  creed  in  the 
modern  sense  were  unknown  in  the  earlier  period 
of  the  post-Biblical  Judaism.  No  necessity  had 
been  felt  to  express  man's  relation  to  God  in  other 
forms  than  those  found  in  Dt  64"6  1012  and  similar 
passages  of  the  OT.  The  belief  in  God  being 
based  on  the  Biblical  report  of  revelation  to  the 
patriarchs,  and  assuming  the  character  of  a  postu- 
late, obedience  to  His  law  was  considered  a  mere 
logical  consequence.  The  simplicity  of  this  system 
contrasts  strangely  with  the  elaborate  array  of 
articles  of  faith  adopted  in  later  centuries.  It  is 
therefore  desirable  to  examine  the  factors  that 
bridged  the  gulf. 

It  was  inevitable  that  Judaism  should  absorb  a 
certain  amount  of  the  metaphysical  speculations 
of  the  various  Greek  schools.  The  first  outcome 
of  this  was  Philo's  theology.  In  the  concluding 
chapter  of  his  treatise  on-  the   '  Creation   of  the 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Jewish) 


246 


World'  (de  Opificio  Mimdi,  ch.  lxi.)  he  gives  the 
result  of  his  investigations  in  the  form  of  the 
following  five  '  lessons  '  taught  by  Moses  : 

(1)  God  has  real  existence ;  (2)  God  is  one  ;  (3)  the  world  is 
created ;  (4)  the  world  is  one ;  (5)  God's  providence  embraces 
the  world. 

The  early  Jewish  Rahbis,  however,  being  con- 
cerned with  the  practice  of  the  Law  rather  than 
with  speculations,  sought  to  check  their  propaga- 
tion among  the  people. 

'The  work  of  creation,'  the  Mishna  teaches,  *  should  not  be 
studied  by  a  company  of  two,  and  the  Chariot  not  even  in 
Bolitude,  unless  the  student  be  sagacious  and  capable  of  draw- 
ing the  right  conclusions '  (Hagigd,  ii.  1). 

The  terms  '  work  of  creation '  and  '  Chariot '  stand 
for  metaphysics  in  general.  In  an  additional  note 
the  Mishna  says  explicitly  that  for  him  who  in- 
quires into 

'  what  is  above  and  below,  what  was  heretofore  and  will  be 
hereafter,  or  deals  lightly  with  the  glory  of  his  Maker,  it  would 
be  better  for  him  never  to  have  been  born.' 

Moreover,  Ben  Sira  (Sir  321'-)  utters  a  solemn 
warning  against  the  study  of  metaphysics,  and 
several  authorities  of  the  Talmud  (of  the  4th  cent. 
A.D.),  commenting  on  the  words  both  of  the  Mishna 
and  of  Ben  Sira,  make  no  other  concession  than  that 
of  allowing  the  communication  of  the  '  headings 
of  the  chapters'  to  scholars  of  ripened  wisdom 
(Haglga,  fol.  13).  We  find,  however,  in  the 
Mishna  an  attempt  to  formulate,  in  a  negative 
way,  something  like  a  creed. 

1  The  following,'  we  read  (Sank.  x.  1),  '  have  no  part  in  the 
future  happiness :  he  who  asserts  that  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead  is  not  intimated  in  the  Torah ;  that  the  Torah  is  not  of 
Divine  origin  ;  and  the  heretic' 

The  passage  thus  enjoins,  by  way  of  climax,  the 
belief  in  retribution  after  death,  revelation,  and 
the  existence  of  God ;  and  we  shall  see,  later  on, 
that  the  same  passage  was  made  the  basis  of  real 
articles  of  creed.  The  authorities  of  the  Talmud, 
however,  proceeded  in  a  different  way.  Instead 
of  formally  demanding  theoretical  belief,  they 
selected  from  the  moral  code  three  of  the  most 
important  prohibitions,  viz.  idolatry,  incest,  and 
murder,  and  laid  down  that  death  was  to  be  chosen 
rather  than  transgression  even  under  compulsion 
(Sank.  fol.  74).  An  enlarged  list  of  laws  was 
imposed  upon  mankind  in  general  under  the  name 
of  the  '  Seven  Noachian  Laws,'  forming  the  nucleus 
of  a  religious  system.  They  comprised  the 
command  of  jurisdiction,  and  the  prohibitions  of 
blasphemy,  idolatry,  murder,  incest,  robbery,  and 
the  eating  of  flesh  from  a  living  animal  (Sank.  fol. 
56).  A  kind  of  creed  in  epigrammatic  form  is 
Hillel's  famous  recommendation  to  the  heathen 
who  desired  to  learn  the  essence  of  Judaism  in  a 
moment :  '  What  is  hateful  to  thee,  do  not  do  to 
thy  neighbour'  {Shabb.  fol.  31). 

The  first  steps  in  the  changing  of  this  attitude 
were  indirectly  prompted  by  Muslim  theologians, 
who  created  a  speculative  theology  known  by  the 
name  of  Kalam.  The  Muhammadan  criticism  of 
the  anthropomorphisms  of  the  OT  interfered  with 
the  Jewish  antipathies  to  metaphysical  research, 
and  the  struggle  was  carried  right  into  the  Jewish 
camp  by  the  sect  of  the  Karaites  who,  rejecting 
all  Rabbinic  tradition  and  attaching  no  value  to 
the  authority  of  Mishna  and  Talmud,  took  up  the 
method  of  the  Mu'tazilite  (dissenting)  Kalam  for 
their  own  needs.  The  consequence  was  that 
Rabbanite  Jews  were  compelled  to  follow  suit 
and  to  employ  philosophic  arguments  for  the 
defence  of  revealed  religion.  This  marks  the 
beginning  of  the  religious  philosophy  of  the  Jews, 
and  its  oldest  expounder  was  Sa'adya  of  Fayyvim, 
who  died  in  942  at  Sura,  in  Babylonia.  In  his 
work  on  '  Creeds  and  Beliefs '  he  set  aside  the 
warning  of  the  Mishna  against  metaphysical 
speculation,  on  the  plea  that  the  Sages  did  not 
forbid  honest  reflexion  (Amanat,  ed.  Landauer, 
p.  21).     He  was  also  the  first  to  venture  a  defini- 


tion of  the  idea  of  creed.  '  Faith,'  he  says,  '  is  a 
notion  arising  in  the  soul  with  regard  t»  a  subject, 
the  true  nature  of  which  has  been  recognized ' 
(ib.  11).  What  he  really  means  is  conviction 
gained  by  one  of  the  various  processes  of  recogni- 
tion, such  as  personal  perception,  truthful  evidence, 
and  logical  conclusion.  As  none  of  these  applies 
to  the  tenets  of  the  Jewish  religion,  he  adds,  as  a 
fourth  source,  '  reliable  tradition  based  cm  revela- 
tion ' — a  phrase  which  marks  the  difference  between 
the  creed  of  Rabbanite  Judaism  on  the  one  side, 
and  Muhammadan  as  well  as  Karaite  Kalam  on 
the  other.  Beyond  this  first  attempt,  however, 
Sa'adya  has  specified  no  real  articles  of  faith,  em- 
ploying for  the  remainder  of  his  theories  the  usual 
methods  of  the  Mu'tazilite  Kalam,  which  held 
sway  among  Jewish  philosophers  for  two  centuries 
afterwards. 

The  heterodox  colouring  of  the  Kalam  in  the 
writings  of  the  famous  Arab  philosopher  Avicenna 
(Ibn  Sina),  in  connexion  with  the  criticism  of 
Muslim  theologians  and  the  growing  pretensions 
of  the  Karaites,  gradually  brought  about  a  re- 
action in  favour  of  a  more  decided  accentuation 
of  the  tenets  of  Rabbanite  Jewish  religion.  As 
its  doctors,  however,  had  little  practice  in  formu- 
lating articles  of  creed,  they  again  turned  to  the 
Arabs,  who  employed  the  term  'aqida  (plur.  'aqa'id) 
for  this  purpose.  The  first  Muslim  who  formulated 
articles  of  creed  was  the  famous  Abul-Laith  Nasr 
of  Samarkand  (t993),  who  laid  down  the  tenets 
of  his  faith  in  a  work  entitled  'Aqida  (Cod.  Brit. 
Mus.  Add.  19413),  written  in  the  form  of  a  cate- 
chism. Of  greater  popularity,  in  fact  the  standard 
work  on  the  subject,  is  the  'Aqa'id  of  al-Nasafi 
(t  1142),  which,  it  is  probable,  served  Jewish 
writers  as  a  model  for  the  formation  of  their 
articles  of  creeds.  For  it  should  be  noted  that 
the  first  Jewish  work  which  contained  something 
approaching  axioms  of  faith  did  not  see  the  light 
till  that  period.  About  1140  the  poet  and  philo- 
sopher Judah  Hallevi  of  Castile  composed  his 
famous  work  al-Khazari  in  defence  of  '  the  despised 
faith.'  The  book  (which  is  written  in  Arabic)  is 
based  on  a  narrative  dealing  with  the  search  of 
the  king  of  the  Khazars  for  the  right  belief. 
Being  dissatisfied  with  the  doctrines  offered  to 
him  by  a  philosopher  of  the  Avicenna  type,  a 
Christian  scholastic,  and  a  Muslim  doctor  of  the 
Mu  tazilite  school,  he  finally  asks  a  Jewish  Rabbi 
for  his  creed.  The  last  named,  in  contradistinction 
to  his  predecessors  with  their  more  or  less  specu- 
lative theories,  answers : 

'  I  believe  in  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Israel,  who  led 
the  children  of  Israel  out  of  Egypt  with  signs  and  miracles  .  . 
our  belief  is  comprised  in  the  Torah  '  (al-Khazari,  p.  44). 
This  formal   confession    is    subsequently  supple- 
mented by  the  following  sentence  : 

'  To  this  [prayer]  the  believer  attaches  the  following  articles 
of  creed  ['aqa'id]  which  complete  the  Jewish  belief,  viz.  (1) 
the  recognition  of  God's  sovereignty,  (2)  His  eternity,  (3)  the 
providential  care  which  He  bestowed  upon  our  forefathers,  (4) 
that  the  Torah  emanated  from  Him,  and  (5)  that  the  proof  of 
all  this  is  found  in  the  delivery  from  Egypt '  (ib.  154). 

From  these  words  Ave  conclude  that  the  notion 
of  articles  of  creed  was  familiar  to  Judah  Hallevi, 
though  he  saw  no  necessity  to  formulate  them  for 
the  benefit  of  his  Jewish  brethren.  Sweeping 
away  speculation  of  all  kinds,  he  substitutes  for  it 
a  priori  belief,  from  which  everything  else  follows 
as  a  necessary  consequence  (ib.  270).  In  order  to 
show  the  contrast  between  his  attitude  and  that  of 
religious  speculators,  he  reproduces  in  ten  axioms 
the  system  of  the  Karaite  Kalam  (ib.  275-278). 
Judah  Hallevi's  omission  to  condense  the  results 
of  his  investigations  into  a  similar  system  is  thus 
far  quite  consistent  with  his  views.  A  more 
definite  attempt  to  formulate  axioms  of  belief  on 
Arab- Aristotelian  lines  was  made  by  Abraham  b. 
David  of  Toledo  (1161) — the  author  oi  a  work  (like- 


246 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Muhammadan) 


wise  written  in  Arabic)  which  bears  the  name  al- 
'Aqlda  al-rafl'a  ('The  Lofty  Creed').  The  first 
part  is  purely  speculative,  but  the  second  consists 
of  six  somewhat  crudely  formed  dogmas,  viz. 

(1)  God's  existence  and  incorporeality ;  (2)  His  unity  or 
oneness ;  (3)  His  attributes ;  (4)  His  rule  of  the  universe ;  (6) 
belief  based  on  tradition  and  belief  in  prophecy ;  (6)  meta- 
phorical names  of  God,  Divine  Providence,  and  human  free 
will. 

This  attempt  was  subsequently  eclipsed  by 
Abraham's  contemporary  Moses  Maimonides,  who 
supplied  what  he  considered  to  be  a  want,  being, 
no  doubt,  urged  to  take  this  step  by  the  continued 
attacks  of  Muslim  theologians,  as  well  as  by  his 
inborn  love  of  systematizing.  It  is  to  him  that 
Judaism  owes  the  famous  '  Thirteen  Articles  of 
Creed,'  which  both  in  abridged  Hebrew  prose  and 
in  verse  were  introduced  into  the  Jewish  prayer- 
book,  and  which  enjoy  an  unbounded  popularity 
among  Jews  all  over  the  world.  It  is  doubtful, 
however,  whether  this  was  his  aim.  The  Articles 
were  originally  composed  in  Arabic,  and  form  part 
of  his  commentary  on  the  Mishna  Sank.  x.  1  quoted 
above.  A  perusal  of  these  Articles  makes  it  clear 
that  they  were  meant,  in  the  first  instance,  as  a 
protest  against  various  Christian  and  Muhammadan 
statements :  (1)  that  Biblical  anthropomorphism 
was  a  departure  from  pure  monotheism ;  (2)  that 
Moses'  prophetship  was  eclipsed  by  that  of 
Muhammad ;  (3)  that  the  Kabbis  had  altered  the 
Torah  ;  (4)  that  the  law  of  Moses  had  been  abrogated 
by  that  of  Muhammad ;  and  (5)  that  the  Messiah 
was  still  expected.  The  Hebrew  version  of  these 
Articles  by  Samuel  b.  Tibbon  (c.  1200)  is  attached 
to  the  ordinary  editions  of  the  Talmud.  For  the 
purposes  of  this  sketch  the  following  short  abstract 
of  the  Articles  must  suffice  : 

I.  God  exists,  and  is  the  cause  of  all  existing  beings. 
II.  God'd  unity  is  absolute,  and  is  not  to  be  compared  with 
other  units  which  are  subject  to  division. 

III.  God  is  incorporeal  and,  therefore,  exempt  from  any 

accidentalattribute.  The  an thropomorphistic  passages 
in  the  Bible  must  be  taken  metaphorically. 

IV.  God's  unity  is  without  beginning. 

V.  No  other  being  besides  God  must  be  worshipped.    This 

also  holds  good  for  angels,  spheres,  and  elements. 
VI.  Prophecy  is  a  distinction  granted  to  human  beings  of 
superior  degree,  whose   souls   enter  into  intimate 
connexion  with  the  Creative  intellect. 
VII.  Moses  is  the  father  of  all  prophets  both  before  and  after 
him.     He  is  distinguished  from  other  prophets  by 
four  characteristics.    (1)  With  no  prophet  did  God 
hold  direct  intercourse  as  with  Moses  (Nu  128).    (2) 
God  did  not  appear  to  Moses  in  dreams,  as  to  other 
prophets  (v. 6).    (3)  other  prophets   experienced  in 
the  hour  of  vision  a  weakening  of  their  vital  power, 
and  a  great  fear  (Dn  109* 16),  which  was  not  the  case 
with   Moses.    (4)  Other   prophets  were  obliged   to 
wait  for   revelations  (2  K    315),    whilst   Moses   was 
empowered  to  solicit  them  (Nu  98,  Lv  162). 
VIII.  The  Torah  is  of  Divine  origin :    '  It  is  incumbent  to 
believe  that  the  whole  of  this  law,  as  it  is  in  our 
hands  this  day,  is  the  Torah  which  was  revealed  to 
Moses.    It  is  all  Divine,  which  means  that  it  reached 
him  by  what  is  metaphorically  termed  speech.' 
IX.  This  law  will  not  be  abrogated,  nor  will  there  be  any 
other  law  of  Divine  origin.    Nothing  will  be  added 
to,  or  taken  away  from,  it. 
X.  God  knows  the  actions  of  all  mankind. 
XI.  God  rewards  those  who  obey  the  Law,  and  punishes  its 

transgressors. 
XII.  The  Messiah  will  arrive  without  fail,  no  matter  how 

long  he  tarry. 
XHI.  Resurrection  of  the  dead. 

It  can  easily  be  seen  that  these  thirteen  Articles 
consist  of  three  groups,  viz.  I.-V.,VI.-IX.,X.-XIII., 
reducing  the  whole  system  to  the  three  funda- 
mental principles  of  belief  in  God,  Revelation,  and 
Retribution  after  death.  This  reduction  was, 
indeed,  carried  out  and  proved  by  Joseph  Albo 
(first  half  of  15th  cent.)  in  his  work  on  'Funda- 
mental Principles'  (Introd.  and  pt.  i.  ch.  4).  It  is 
impossible  that  Maimonides  should  not  have  been 
aware  of  this,  but  the  anti-Muhammadan  as  well 
as  anti-Christian  tendencies  of  several  of  the 
paragraphs  cannot  be  mistaken.  The  anonymous 
redactor  of  the  most  popular  recension  of  these 


Articles  for  liturgical  purposes  prefaced  each 
paragraph  with  the  words  '  I  believe  with  perfect 
faith ' — words  which  are  absent  from  Maimonides' 
original.  It  was  Samuel  b.  Tibbon  who  placed 
the  word  j'DN.i^  ('  to  believe')  at  the  head  of  several 
articles.  Of  the  diverse  attempts  to  reproduce 
these  articles  in  poetic  form  the  most  popular  is 
the  Yigdal  hymn  by  an  unknown  (but  probably 
Spanish)  author.1  Those  who  followed  Maimonides, 
writing  on  the  same  subject,  as  Hisdai  Crescas 
(t  1410)  and  Isaac  Abravanel  (1437-1508),  have 
added  nothing  new,  and  need  not,  therefore,  be 
further  considered. 

There  now  remains  a  word  to  be  said  on  the 
tenets  of  the  creed  of  the  Karaites.  By  rejecting 
the  Rabbinic  method  of  interpreting  the  Bible, 
they  avoided  the  Muhammadan  charge  of  having 
altered  the  Torah,  and,  being  disciples  of  the 
Mu'tazilite  school,  they  were  under  no  suspicion 
regarding  their  conception  of  Biblical  anthropo- 
morphisms. They  had,  however,  to  defend  their 
belief  in  (1)  the  prophetship  of  Moses  and  the  other 
prophets ;  (2)  the  validity  of  the  Torah,  and  their 
own  interpretation  of  it ;  and  (3)  the  arrival  of  the 
Messiah.  Now  the  ten  axioms  reproduced  by 
Judah  Hallevi  (see  above)  touch  only  the  meta- 
physical side  of  the  question,  and  it  was  left  to 
others  to  supply  the  religious  element.  Judah  b. 
Elijah  Hadassi  (1149)  was  the  first  to  attempt  this 
by  grouping  the  Karaite  laws  round  the  Decalogue. 
Kaleb  Afendopulo,  who  (in  1497)  wrote  an  in- 
troduction to  Hadassi's  work,  extracted  from  it 
the  following  ten  Articles  : 

I.  God  is  the  creator  of  all  creatures. 
II.  He  is  one  and  eternal. 

III.  Every  [other]  existing  being  is  created. 

IV.  God  sent  Moses  and  all  other  prophets  mentioned  in  the 

Bible. 
V.  The  law  of  Moses  is  true. 
VI.  Believers  must  have  knowledge  of  the  Torah  and  its 

interpretation. 
VII.  The  Sanctuary  [at  Jerusalem]  is  the  palace  of  the  Most 

High  King. 
VIII.  The  resurrection  of  the  dead  [will  take  place]  at  the 
time  of  the  arrival  of  the  Messiah. 
IX.  There  will  be  a  final  judgment. 
X.  Just  retribution. 

In  view  of  the  close  relationship  between  the  para- 
graphs I.-IIL,  IV.-VIII.,  IX. -X.,  the  artificiality 
of  the  number  ten  is  conspicuous.  Israel  Haddayyan 
of  Alexandria,  who  (in  1257)  composed  a  digest  of 
the  Karaite  laws,  condensed  the  Articles  into  the 
following  six :  (1)  God ;  (2)  the  messengership  of 
Moses ;  (3)  the  other  prophets ;  (4)  the  Torah 
revealed  through  Moses ;  (5)  Jerusalem ;  and  (6) 
the  day  of  judgment. 

Literatdbb.— Sa'adya  b.  Yusuf  Al-Fayyumi,  Kit&b  aX- 
Amdndt  wa't-rtiqaddt,  ed.  S.  Landauer,  Leyden,  1881 ;  Judah 
Hall§vi,  Kitab  al-Khazari,  tr.  from  Arab,  with  an  Introd.  by 
Hartwig  Hirschfeld,  London,  1905  ;  E.  Pocock,  Porta  ilosis  8. 
dissertations  aliquot  a  R.  Mose  Maimonide,  Oxford,  1655,  pp. 
133-180 ;  Josef  Albo,  Se/er  Ikkarim  .  .  .  (ed.  W.  and  L.  Schle- 
singer,  with  Introd.  by  L.  Schlesinger),  Frankfort  a.  M.,  1844 ; 
Judah  b.  Elijah  Hadassi,  Eshkol  Hakkofer,  etc.  (Hebrew),  Eu- 
patoria,  1836  ;  A.  Neubauer,  Aus  der  Petersburger  Bibliothek, 
etc.,  Leipzig,  1866;  S[ebastian]  Minister,  Tredecimarticulifidei 
Judozorum,  Worms,  1529 ;  J.  B.  Carpzov,  n'lltr  n:iDN  •CHB', 
Leipzig,  1661 ;  J.  Lindsay,  The  Jews'  Catechism,  containing 
the  Thirteen  Articles,  London,  1825 ;  Abraham  b.  David 
Halevi,  Das  Buch  Emunah  Ramah  oder  der  erhabene  Glaube, 
tr.  into  Germ,  and  ed.  by  Simson  Weil,  Frankfort  a.  M.,  1852 ; 
J.  Guttmann,  Die  Religionsphilosophie  des  Abr.  ibn  Daud  aus 
Toledo,  Gottingen,  1879;  E.  G.  Hirsch  and  K.  Kohler, 
'  Articles  of  Faith,'  in  JE  ii.  148-152. 

Hartwig  Hirschfeld. 
CREED  (Muhammadan). — The  Muhammadan 
creed  or  profession  of  faith  (Icalimat  al-shahada, 
or,  shortly,  kalima)  is  the  well-known  formula,  '  I 
testify  that  there  is  no  god  but  God,  and  I  testify 
that  Muhammad  is  the  apostle  of  God.'  It  is  one 
of  the  articles  ('aqa'id)  of  faith  {'iman),  and  also 
one  of  the  '  five  pillars '  of  practical  religion  {din; 

1  According  to  Luzzatto  (Mebo,  Leghorn,  1856,  p.  18)  and 
Zunz  (Literaturgesch.  der  synagog.  Poesie,  Berlin,  1866,  p.  607), 
this  hymn  was  completed  in  1404  by  Daniel  ben  Judah  Dayyan 
of  Rome. 


CREEDS  AND  ARTICLES  (Parsi) 


247 


see  IslSm).  The  creed  as  a  whole  is  not  formulated 
in  the  Qur'an  ;  but  the  first  article  is  enunciated 
in  Sura  cxii.  :  'Say,  "He  is  One  God;  God  the 
Eternal ;  He  begetteth  not,  nor  is  begotten,  nor 
is  there  one  like  unto  Him."'  The  creed,  how- 
ever, occurs  in  a  tradition  of  'Omar,  the  second 
khalif,  who  related  that  the  Prophet,  on  being 
asked  to  define  Islam,  said  :  '  Islam  is  that  thou 
bear  witness  that  there  is  no  god  but  God  and  that 
Muhammad  is  His  messenger  ;  and  be  steadfast  in 
praver,  and  charitable  ;  and  fast  during  the  month 
of  rlaniadan ;  and  make  the  pilgrimage  to  the 
Ka'ba  if  it  is  in  thy  power'  (Blishkat  al-Masabih, 
tr.  Matthews,  Calcutta,  1810,  I.  i.  1).  According 
to  the  Sharh  al-Wiqaya  (ap.  Hughes,  DI,  s.v. 
'  Creed '),  the  kalima  is  to  be  recited  by  every 
Muslim  aloud  and  correctly,  with  full  comprehen- 
sion of  its  meaning  and  belief  in  his  heart,  at  least 
once  in  his  lifetime,  and  to  be  always  professed 
without  hesitation  until  his  death. 

Stanley  Lane-Poole. 

CREED  (Parsi). — I.  According  to  Yas.  xxx.  2, 
man  must  make  a  choice  between  the  two  '  creeds  ' 
or  'confessions'  (avareno).  In  the  beginning  the 
Holy  Spirit  said  of  himself  and  of  his  spiritual 
antagonist  that  their  '  confessions '  (varand)  did 
not  agree  [Yas.  xlv.  2).  The  word  translated  '  con- 
fessions '  implies  a  choice,  and  the  corresponding 
verb  is  used  in  the  middle  voice  with  fra-  as  a 
technical  term  to  express  the  profession  of  a 
religion,  especially  of  the  Mazdayasnian  faith : 
fravaretar,  ' confessor,'  fravarane,  'I  make  my 
profession  of  faith,'  etc.  Although  from  the  very 
beginning  Zarathushtrian  Mazdaism  thus  meant  a 
sharp  contrast  with  surrounding  worship  and 
practice  (cf.  Vend.  xix.  6 :  Zarathushtra's  mother 
had  invoked  the  Ahra  Mainyu),  neither  prosely- 
tizing aims  nor  doctrinal  discussions  produced  a 
creed  in  the  same  sense  as  in  Christianity.  The 
Zarathushtrian  reform  was  of  a  moral,  economic, 
and  ritual  kind,  rather  than  intellectual.  But  the 
Avesta  contains  several  formulae,  used  on  different 
occasions,  e.g.  in  putting  on  the  sacred  cord,  on 
rising  in  the  morning,  in  the  nydyishes  and  other 
prayers,  etc.  These  formulae  sum  up  the  most 
peculiar  tenets  and  practices  of  the  Parsi  religion. 
It  may  be  that  some  of  them  originated  during  the 
Sasanian  restoration,  owing  to  the  need  of  briefly 
distinguishing  their  own  faith  from  Christianity 
and  other  rivals.  We  shall  mention  only  the  most 
important  formulas.  In  the  post-Avestan  time 
the  Parsis  who  settled  in  India  were  required  to 
present  a  summary  of  their  beliefs  and  sacred 
customs  to  Indian  rulers. 

2.  In  its  shortest  form  the  Fravarane  (Yas. 
xi.  16,  xii.  1,  xxvii.  12;  Yt.  xiii.  89,  etc.)  contains 
four  points :  Fravarane  Mazdayasno,  Zarathush- 
Irish,  Vidaevo,  Ahuratkaesho  ;  '  I  profess  myself  a 
Mazda-worshipper,  a  Zarathushtrian,  an  anti-devil 
lenemy  of  the  demons),  a  servant  (or  proclaimer) 
of  the  Lord.'    That  is,  the  believer  declares  himself 

(1)  a  monotheist  ;  (2)  a  member  of  a  historically 
founded  religion  ;  (3)  a  dualist.  Or,  to  put  it 
differently,  (1)  the  revealed  God  is  Ahura  Mazda  ; 

(2)  the  revealer  is  Zarathushtra ;  (3)  the  peculiar 
higher  form  of  life  instituted  by  the  revealer  as 
the  due  service  of  God  consists  in  the  fight  against 
the  demons.  Those  points  are  co-ordinated  in  a 
way  characteristic  of  revealed  or  founded  religion 
(cf.  Transactions  of  the  3rd  Int.  Congr.  for  the 
Hist,  of  Bel.,  Oxford,  1908,  ii.  403  ff.).  (4)  The 
last  word  seems  to  sum  up  comprehensively  the 
whole  faith,  yasno  designating  more  particularly 
the  Divine  worship,  and  tkaeshb  designating  the 
doctrines  and  tenets  of  religion  in  general.  Addi- 
tions are  sometimes  made  to  the  Fravarane: 
homage  to  the  genii  of  the  gahs  (hours,  watches), 
of  the  days,  of  the  months,  of  the  seasons,  of  the 


years  (Introd.  to  the  Yasna ;  Yas.  xi.  16,  xxiii.  5  ; 
esp.  in  the  five  gahs  recited  at  the  five  hours  of 
prayer  of  the  day  and  contained  in  the  Khordah 
Avesta  [the  book  of  prayer],  etc.);  or — a  more 
authentic  addition — homage  to  the  Amesha-Spen- 
tas  (Yas.  xii.  1),  or  other  amplifications.  A  still 
shorter  form  (Yas.  xii.  8)  runs  thus:  *I  profess 
myself  a  Mazda-worshipper,  a  Zarathushtrian, 
having  made  both  my  avowal  and  my  profession 
(of  faith).'  Another  short  formula  in  Pahlavi 
runs :  '  I  declare  my  adherence  to  the  Mazda- 
worshipping  religion,  and  renouncement  of  all  evil 
beings  and  things'  (E.  S.  Dadabhai  Bharucha, 
Khorda-avesta-arthah,  Bombay,  1906,  p.  2). 

3.  A  more  explicit  creed  is  formed  by  the  Has 
xii.  and  xiii.  of  the  Yasna,  designated,  according 
to  Anquetil  Duperron,  by  the  Parsis  as  Fraoreti, 
'confession,'  'creed,'  and  called  after  the  opening 
words  Frastuye,  '  I  praise '  ( Yas.  xi.  17-xii.  7), 
and  Astuye,  '  I  avovv'  (Yas.  xii.  8-xiii.,  as  divided 
by  Darmesteter).  Astuye,  with  the  shortest  Fra- 
varane, belongs,  e.g.,  to  the  prayer  of  the  investiture 
with  the  kosti.  Frastuye  is  placed  at  the  head  of 
each  Yasht  and  of  each  Patet,  and  it  occurs  in  a 
shorter  and  in  a  longer— -evidently  more  original — 
form,  which  contains  elements  of  really  ancient 
aspect.  It  begins  with  the  usual  Avestan  triad : 
'  I  avow  good  thoughts,  good  words,  good  actions.' 
In  the  course  of  the  confession,  cattle-stealing  and 
destruction  of  the  villages  of  the  Mazdayasnians 
are  abjured ;  folk  and  cattle  ought  to  live  in 
peace.  All  communion  with  demons  and  their  crew, 
with  sorcerers  and  their  crew,  and  with  all  kinds 
of  adversaries  and  devilish,  treacherous  persons, 
is  abjured.  As  Zarathushtra  abjured  the  devils 
in  his  colloquies  with  Ahura  Mazda,  so  the  Mazda- 
yasnian and  Zarathushtrian  gives  up  communion 
with  them.  In  addition  to  the  predominating 
fight  against  the  devils,  and  in  particular  against 
savage  disturbance  of  the  regular  cattle-breeding 
village-life  (' the  Mazda- worshipping  religion  sup- 
presses battles  and  lays  down  arms'),  two  other 
features  of  this  creed  deserve  attention :  (a)  the 
importance  of  tradition ;  this  creed  has  been  pro- 
fessed by  the  waters,  by  the  plants,  by  the  cattle, 
by  the  Creator,  by  the  first  man,  by  Zarathushtra, 
by  Vishtaspa,  by  Frashaoshtra  and  Jamaspa,  by 
all  the  Saoshyants ;  (6)  the  excellence  of  inter- 
marriage between  the  nearest  relations,  repudiated 
and  interpreted  in  a  different  sense  by  later  Parsiism. 
The  xvaetvadatha,  or  next-of-kin-marriage,  is  also 
exalted  by  the  Astuye. 

4.  Anquetil  Duperron  describes  the  ceremonies 
to  be  undertaken  by  an  unbeliever  desiring  to  join 
the  Parsi  faith.  The  Parsi  creed  belonging  to  that 
ritual  and  included  by  Spiegel  in  the  Khordah 
Avesta  is  evidently  much  later  than  the  Avestan 
formulae.  It  runs  :  '  The  good,  pious,  right  religion, 
which  the  Lord  of  the  created  beings  has  sent,  is 
the  one  brought  by  Zartusht.  The  religion  is  the 
religion  of  Zartusht,  the  religion  of  Ormazd,  given 
to  Zartusht.'  The  reception  of  an  outsider  into 
the  Parsi  communion  is,  in  fact,  nowadays  almost 
an  unheard-of  thing ;  such  requests  have  been 
rejected  lately. 

5.  The  Mazdayasnian  who  confesses  his  sins  and 
seeks  absolution  is,  of  course,  in  quite  a  different 
position  from  a  proselyte  not  belonging  to  the 
sacred  blood.  The  explicit  formulae  of  penance. 
Patets,  give  a  good  idea  of  what  was  considered  by 
later  Mazdaism  to  be  essential  to  the  Parsi  practice 
and  faith.  In  the  so-called  Iranian  Patet,1  after 
having  enumerated  at  length  the  sins  and  wicked- 
nesses repented  of,  and  having  referred  to  the  fact 

1  Translated  by  Spiegel,  Av.  iibersetzt,  Leipzig,  1852-63,  iii. 
219  fl.,  and  Darmesteter,  Zend-Avesta,  Paris,  1892-93,  iii. 
167  B. ;  ed.  de  Harlez,  Manuel  de  Pehleoi,  Paris,  1880,  p.  144  fl. 
The  Pazand  Patets  (cf.  West,  GIrP  ii.  109  f.)  are  now  accessible 
in  Antia's  Pdzend  Texts,  Bombay,  1909,  pp.  118-162. 


248 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Primitive  and  Savage) 


that  the  same  faith  had  been  professed  by  the  men 
of  the  holy  tradition,  mentioned  in  the  Frastuye, 
and  by  Adarbad  Mahraspand  (4th  cent.  A.D.),  the 
believer  proclaims  that  neither  happiness  nor  a 
longer  life,  power  nor  wealth,  nor  even  the  penalty 
of  death,  can  separate  him  from  the  right  religion, 
because  lie  dreads  hell  and  hopes  for  paradise. 

6.  On  the  arrival  of  the  emigrating  Parsis  at 
Sanjan  in  A.D.  716,  they  presented  to  the  Indian 
prince  of  Gujarat  a  list  of  sixteen  ilokas,  composed 
by  the  most  learned  of  their  dasturs,  and  containing 
the  principal  rules  and  tenets  of  their  religion, 
selected  and  stated  in  a  way  fitted  to  conciliate 
the  ruler,  without  denying  or  concealing  the  real 
content  of  Mazdaism.  The  points  were  as  follows  : 
(1)  the  adoration  of  Ahura  Mazda,  of  the  Sun,  and 
of  the  tive  elements ;  (2)  silence  during  the  bath, 
in  reciting  prayers,  in  presenting  offerings  to  the 
fire,  and  in  eating ;  (3)  the  use  of  incense,  per- 
fumes, and  flowers  in  religious  ceremonies  ;  (4)  the 
honour  accorded  to  the  cow ;  (5)  the  use  of  the 
sacred  shirt,  string,  and  cap ;  (6)  singing  and 
music  at  weddings ;  (7)  the  adornments  and  per- 
fumes of  ladies ;  (8)  the  precepts  of  generosity  in 


giving  alms,  and  of  digging  tanks  and  wells ;  (9) 
the  precept  to  extend  one's  sympathies  to  all  male 
and  female  beings  ;  ( 10)  the  ablutions  with  gomiltra 
(euphemistically  called  '  one  of  the  products  of  the 
cow ') ;  (11)  the  wearing  of  the  sacred  cord  in  pray- 
ing and  in  eating;  (12)  the  sacred  fire  fed  with 
incense;  (13)  the  five  devotions  every  day;  (14) 
conjugal  fidelity  and  purity  ;  (15)  the  annual  cere- 
monies in  honour  of  the  forefathers ;  (16)  the  pre- 
cautions to  be  observed  by  women  after  child-birth 
and  during  menstruation.  There  exist  different 
versions  in  Gujarati  and  Sanskrit. 

Literature. — D.  Menant,  'Les  Parsis,'  Bibl.  d'e'tudes  du 
Muse~e  Guimet,  vii.,  Paris,  1808 ;  Dosabbai  Framji  Karaka, 
Hist,  of  ihe  Parsis,  London,  1884. 

Nathan  Soderblom. 
CREEK  INDIANS.— See  Muskhogeans. 

CREMATION.— See  Death  and  Disposal  of 
the  Dead. 

CRESCENT.— See  Symbols. 

CRETE.— See  jEgean  Religion. 


CRIMES    AND    PUNISHMENTS. 


Primitive  (J.  A.  MacCulloch),  p.  248. 
Assyro-Babylonian  (T.  G.  PINCHES),  p.  257. 
Buddhist  (T.  W.  Rhys  Davids),  p.  260. 
Celtic  (E.  Anwyl),  p.  261. 
Chinese  (W.  Gilbert  Walshe),  p.  269. 
Christian.— See  Criminology,  Rewards. 
Egyptian  (F.  Ll.  Griffith),  p.  272. 
Greek  (A.  C.  Pearson),  p.  273. 

CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Primitive 
and  Savage). — I.  Introduction. — While  revenge  is 
the  action  of  an  individual  against  one  who  has 
done  him  wrong,  punishment  is  the  action  taken  by 
society  against  one  who  has  transgressed  its  laws. 
Revenge  may,  however,  be  followed  up  by  a  group 
of  persons  in  sympathy  with  the  injured  person,  in 
this  case  passing  over  to  the  blood-feud  (q.v.)  ;  and 
individual  or  collective  revenge  may  be  recognized 
by  the  society  as  the  specific  form  of  punishment 
to  which  it  lends  its  sanction  or  its  aid.  Men  seek 
revenge  because  they  feel  that  their  rights  or 
interests  have  been  encroached  upon.  The  act  of 
revenge  is  one  strictly  of  self-defence,  and  is 
primarily  a  reflex  action.  It  seeks  to  destroy  or 
render  powerless  what  constitutes  a  menace,  but 
it  contains  a  rough  notion  of  justice,  of  the  idea 
that  no  one  can  intrude  upon  the  rights  of  another 
without  suffering  the  consequences.  The  exercise 
of  justice  by  a  community  or  its  representatives 
against  an  individual  who  is  obnoxious  to  it,  or  to 
any  of  its  members,  is  based  primarily  on  the  feeling 
which  underlies  revenge.  Punishment  is  to  some 
extent  vengeance — the  vengeance  of  society  for  its 
own  preservation.  The  criminal  must  suffer,  must 
expiate  his  crime,  whatever  other  notions  may  in 
time  enter  into  the  idea  of  punishment.  Private 
vengeance  and  public  justice  are  thus  so  far  similar 
in  their  point  of  view  and  in  their  action,  save 
that  the  latter  tends  to  be  more  discriminating 
and  impartial.  Not  the  individual  sufferer  himself, 
but  others  judge  and  condemn  the  guilty  person. 
Public  justice  at  lower  stages  is  extremely  limited, 
and  side  by  side  with  it  exists  private  or  collective 
vengeance  (e.g.  the  blood-feud).  This  is  to  some 
extent  justice,  since  society  recognizes  the  right  to 
its  execution.  It  has  become  a  specific  form  of 
punishment  because  society  has  sanctioned  it.  Or 
public  justice  may,  again,  recognize  private  revenge 
by  handing  over  the  evil-doer  to  the  injured  person 
»r  his  relatives,  or  by  making  him  or  them  the 


Hebrew  (W.  H.  Bennett),  p.  280. 
Hindu  (J.  Jolly),  p.  283. 
Japanese  (W.  G.  Aston),  p.  285. 
Jewish  (H.  Loewe),  p.  288. 
Muhammadan  (Th.  W.  Juynboll),  p.  290. 
Parsi  (M.  N.  Dhalla),  p.  294. 
Roman  (J.  S.  Reid),  p.  296. 
Teutonic  and  Slavic  (O.  Schradek),  p.  300. 

executors  of  justice.  Public  justice,  save  in  the 
case  of  a  few  crimes  which  more  particularly 
menace  the  existence  of  society  as  a  whole,  has 
to  content  itself  with  regulating  private  revenge, 
or  with  suggesting  a  system  of  compensations. 
Finally,  as  it  advances,  often  through  the  growing 
supremacy  of  chiefs,  it  eliminates  private  revenge 
more  or  less  completely,  though  this  can  hardly  be 
said  to  be  true  of  any  savage  society. 

The  simplest  form  of  regulated  revenge  is  the  duel — the  right 
of  the  injured  party  to  challenge  the  aggressor  to  single  combat, 
or  the  case  where  the  aggressor  must  stand  up  to  the  throwing 
of  spears  (as  in  some  Australian  instances),  or  must  submit  to 
the  plundering  of  his  house.  Or,  again,  revenge  is  regulated  by 
being  limited  to  a  cretain  period  or  to  certain  offences.  The 
blood-feud  is  the  best  example  of  regulated  revenge  (see  Post, 
Grundriss  der  ethnol.  Jurisprudent,  ii.  236ff . ;  Westermarck, 
Moral  Ideas,  i.  498  ft.  ;  see  §  6,  ii.  (1)  below). 

In  the  earliest  times,  if  men,  like  some  of  the 
higher  apes,  lived  in  separate  families,  the  family 
would,  when  necessary,  assist  any  individual 
member  of  it  in  following  up  an  act  of  revenge, 
because  they  were  bound  to  be  in  sympathy  with 
him  for  the  wrong  done.  Thus  individual  revenge 
easily  passed  over  into  collective  revenge.  It  is 
out  of  this  feeling  of  sympathy  that  justice,  strictly 
so  called,  arises.  Actions  by  which  any  individual 
feels  aggrieved  are  generally  those  by  which  all 
individuals  feel  aggrieved  when  they  are  done  to 
themselves  ;  and  the  condemnation  of  such  actions 
tends  to  formulate  itself  as  a  custom  or  law  which 
cannot  be  transgressed  without  risk  of  incurring 
the  hostility  of  the  society  or  of  individuals  com- 
posing it.  Custom  is,  in  fact,  a  strong  expression  of 
savage  man's  sense  of  right  and  wrong,  and  it  is 
the  test  by  which  actions  are  judged,  although, 
indeed,  some  of  the  actions,  from  a  strictly  ethical 
point  of  view,  may  be  indifferent.  Hence,  both 
collective  revenge  and  public  justice  are  the  ex- 
pression of  moral  indignation,  though  the  latter 
expresses  it  more  strongly.  For,  the  more  men 
realize  their  solidarity,  the  more  is  any  ill  done  to 
one  regarded  with  indignation  by  all,  as  a  result  of 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Primitive  and  Savage) 


249 


the  working  of  sympathetic  emotion.  And,  as  the 
ill  done  has  transgressed  that  customary  law, — 
the  expression  of  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong, 
— the  punishment  inflicted  is  an  expression  of  moral 
indignation  at  the  wrongdoer.  It  may  be  out  of 
all  proportion  to  the  ott'ence  committed,  and  in  such 
a  case  is  on  a  level  with  mere  unthinking  revenge, 
but,  generally  speaking,  at  lower  levels  of  savage 
society,  punishment  has  some  proportion  to  the 
offence.  It  is  at  higher  levels,  in  barbaric  and 
despotic  societies,  that  punishment  is  most  cruel 
and  disproportionate  to  the  offence. 

The  tendency  of  punishment  to  supplant  mere 
revenge  (which  is  occasionally  regarded  as  wrong) 
is  aided  by  the  fact  that  the  latter  often  causes 
great  inconvenience  to  the  society,  and  tends  to 
multiply  the  revengeful  actions.  The  society,  by 
itself  or  by  its  h  sads,  steps  in,  therefore,  between 
the  avenger  and  the  wrongdoer,  and  decides  upon 
the  punishment,  or  restrains  the  amount  of  venge- 
ful action.  Thus  the  judgments  of  a  central  tri- 
bunal are  gradually  preferred  to  revengeful  acts. 
Casalis  says  of  the  Basutos  that  the  chief  has  been 
given  powers  over  all  the  community  because  of 
the  fear  of  anarchy  arising  out  of  private  revenge 
{The  Basutos,  1861,  p.  225).  The  injurious  results 
of  the  blood-feud  are  well  recognized  by  savages, 
among  whom  the  head-men  or  the  chief  will  often 
interfere  to  stop  its  excesses  ;  or  it  sometimes  gives 
place  to  an  appeal  to  them,  or  to  the  payment  of  a 
compensation  by  the  offender,  as  a  matter  of  private 
arrangement,  or  one  suggested  by  them.  This 
compensation  generally  tends  to  pass  into  a  regular 
practice,  with  a  graduated  scale  of  payments  accord- 
ing to  the  magnitude  of  the  offence  (§  5).  With  the 
growth  of  the  power  of  the  chief,  he  not  only  ad- 
vises or  suggests,  but  determines  and  orders  the 
carrying  out  of  justice  over  a  wider  field.  More- 
over, where  the  injured  person  or  his  representa- 
tives are  too  weak  to  take  revenge  against  a 
powerful  tribesman,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  where 
revenge  is  out  of  proportion  to  the  offence,  the 
sympathetic  emotions  of  the  society,  being  aroused 
in  the  one  case  for  the  victim  and  in  the  other  for 
the  aggressor,  gradually  contribute  to  the  forma- 
tion of  a  tribunal  in  some  shape  or  form,  and  to 
the  cessation  of  private  revenge. 

Yet  private  revenge  often  exists  side  by  side  with 
punishment  by  a  tribunal  or  a  chief.  This  is 
natural  when  we  consider  what  savage  character 
is.  But,  on  the  whole,  there  is  a  tendency  to  make 
such  revenge  the  expression  of  judicial  action. 
Thus  it  may  be  recognized  as  the  right  way  of 
punishing  certain  wrongdoers,  provided  that  it 
does  not  exceed  certain  limits.  This  is  particularly 
true  where  the  husband  is  allowed  to  avenge  him- 
self on  the  adulterer.  Or  it  may  be  permitted  that 
the  criminal  caught  red-handed  in  certain  crimes, 
e.g.  theft,  should  be  slain  at  once.  Or,  again,  the 
blood-feud  may  be  the  approved  method  of  punish- 
ing the  murderer.  Or  the  aggrieved  person  or  his 
relatives  may  be  chosen  as  executioners  of  the 
sentence  passed  by  the  tribunal.  Thus,  among 
many  of  the  Bantu  tribes,  a  murderer  proved 
guilty  is  given  over  to  the  relatives  of  his  victim 
to  deal  with  him  as  they  choose  (Macdonald,  JAI 
xxii.  108).  Many  other  instances  might  be  cited. 
Private  revenge  sometimes  continues  alongside  or 
in  spite  of  established  judicial  tribunals  in  the 
case  of  large  societies  scattered  over  wide  areas,  and 
in  which  there  is  little  feeling  of  homogeneity, 
and  hence  little  prospect  of  general  sympathetic 
action  in  favour  of  an  aggrieved  person.  Revenge 
may  also  be  pursued  in  all  societies  in  matters  not 
usually  taken  cognizance  of  by  the  laws. 

2.  Crime,  morality,  and  religion. — Even  in  the 
earliest  stages  of  human  history  man  may  have 
dimly  felt  it  ethically  wrong  to  murder,  commit 


adultery,  or  steal,  apart  from  the  fact  that  the  in- 
stinctive act  of  revenge  brought  it  home  to  him 
that  in  committing  such  actions  he  was  trespassing 
against  the  rights  of  another.  These  crimes  are  so 
universally  condemned  that  there  can  have  been 
no  time  when  they  were  not  regarded  as  deeds 
which  it  was  wrong  to  commit.  The  sense  of 
wrongness  with  regard  to  these  and  other  acts  was 
largely  increased  with  the  growth  of  society,  of  the 
group  in  which  men  lived,  because  such  actions 
tended  to  destroy  the  unity  of  the  group.  Custom 
laid  down  that  there  were  certain  things  which 
must  not  be  done,  and  it  was,  therefore,  highly 
immoral  to  do  them.  Nor  is  it  improbable  that, 
even  at  the  very  earliest  stages  of  the  growth  of 
the  ideas  of  right  and  wrong,  man  may  have 
thought  vaguely  that  in  doing  wrong  to  another  he 
was  incurring  the  anger  of  whatever  worshipful 
being  or  beings  he  was  aware  of.  This  thought 
also  would  become  more  definite  with  the  growth 
of  society.  Where  a  group  of  men  living  together 
worship  a  being  whom  they  believe  to  be  interested 
in  the  group,  any  transgression  of  custom  will 
be  regarded  as  transgression  against  him,  because 
the  customs  would  certainly  be  regarded  as  having 
been  instituted  by  him.  Whatever  constituted  a 
menace  to  the  group  or  any  of  the  individuals  com- 
posing it  was  also  an  offence  against  the  divinity, 
who  naturally  favoured  the  community  and  not 
him  who  menaced  its  existence.  The  god  is  ape  to 
punish  the  group  for  the  breach  of  custom,  and 
hence  the  offender  is  made  to  suffer  speedily  for 
his  evil-doing,  in  order  to  avert  this.  Some  crimes 
are  punished  by  the  group  as  a  whole.  Others  are 
not  so  punished,  but  the  "roup  approves  of  the  act 
of  revenge  by  which  the  offence  is  requited. 
Revenge  or  punishment  is  thus  supposed  to  satisfy 
the  anger  of  the  god.  Some  support  for  the  view 
here  taken  is  found  in  the  fact  that  the  divinities 
of  very  primitive  tribes  are  also  to  some  extent 
moral  governors,  who  are  thought  to  dislike  par- 
ticular crimes  and  to  punish  them.  Among  savages 
at  a  higher  level  there  is  a  certain  amount  of 
evidence  proving  that  their  gods  take  account  of 
crime  and  are  guardians  of  morality.  Whether 
or  not  it  be  true  that  all  morality  from  the  first  is 
connected  with  religion,  it  is  at  least  certain  that 
religion  soon  strengthened  and  assisted  morality 
by  its  insistence  on  the  fact  that  the  god  or  gods 
of  the  group  desired  its  welfare,  and  that  all  offences 
against  that  welfare  were  thus  more  than  offences 
against  laws  imposed  by  men. 

3.  The  administration  of  justice.  —  A  regular 
organization  for  enforcing  justice  or  maintaining 
custom  hardly  exists  at  the  lowest  levels  of  society, 
though  its  beginnings  may  be  seen.  Justice  is  a 
matter  of  individual  action ;  and  yet,  as  among 
the  Yahgans  of  Tierra  del  Fuego,  where  the  feeling 
of  the  community  gives  support  to  the  existing 
customs,  some  help  in  avenging  wrongs  may  always 
be  looked  for  from  relatives  or  neighbours  (Hob- 
house,  Morals  in  Evolution,  i.  46,  citing  Hyades 
and  Deniker,  Miss,  scient.  du  Cap  Horn,  Paris, 
1891).  This  is  an  approach  to  collective  revenge, 
and,  as  a  rule,  the  greater  the  wrong,  the  more 
likelihood  is  there  of  the  avenger  being  supported. 
But,  wherever  crime  is  regarded  as  a  serious  breach 
of  tribal  custom,  the  breaker  of  a  custom  is  the 
breaker  of  a  law,  and  his  action  arouses  strong  dis- 
approval. Hence,  society  approves  the  action  of 
the  avenger,  e.g.,  in  cases  of  murder  or  adultery; 
or  it  takes  joint  action  against  the  wrongdoer. 
The  latter  course  is  most  frequent  in  the  case  of 
crimes  which  are  regarded  as  bringing  the  whole 
community  into  danger  or  subjecting  it  to  Divine 
anger,  e.g.  sorcery  and  incest  (breaches  of  exo- 
gamous  custom).  Or,  again,  a  whole  clan  or  tribe 
will  put  to  death  or  banish  a  man  who  makes  him- 


250 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Primitive  and  Savage) 


self  a  nuisance  to  every  one,  as  among  the  Eskimos, 
■where  a  whole  village  has  occasionally  risen 
against  and  slain  an  atrocious  murderer  (Nansen, 
Eskimo  Life,  1893,  p.  163).  Conjoint  action  by 
the  community  is  found  amongst  the  Mpongwe, 
who  drown  or  burn  the  murderer  (Burton,  Two 
Trips  to  Gorilla  Land,  1876,  i.  105),  and  is  common 
among  Australian  tribes,  where  the  whole  camp 
joins  in  punishing  the  ill-doer  (Westermarck,  op. 
eit.  i.  171).  But,  even  when  such  joint  action 
occurs,  individual  revenge  or  blood-feud  is  com- 
monly found,  nor  is  it  condemned  by  society. 
Indeed,  it  is  usually  the  case  that  any  one  disre- 
garding the  duty  of  revenge  is  held  in  contempt, 
and  this  tends  to  show  the  general  disapproval  of 
crime  by  the  whole  group  or  tribe. 

Where  public  justice  is  administered  by  certain 
individuals,  it  seldom  ousts  the  practice  of  private 
revenge,  and  in  general  takes  cognizance  only  of 
public  offences  (sorcery,  incest),  or  of  various  petty 
crimes.  But  this  '  court '  may  be  effective  in  en- 
forcing or  in  regulating  private  revenge,  or  in 
arranging  compensation.  A  council  of  elder  men 
is  frequently  found  among  Australian  tribes,  who 
try  various  offences  and  decide  upon  the  punish- 
ment (Fraser,  Abor.  of  N.S.  Wales,  Sydney,  1892, 
f>.  39  ff.  ;  Woods,  Native  Tribes  of  S.  Aust.,  Ade- 
aide,  1879,  p.  34 ff.).  But  it  is  probable  that,  as 
among  the  Central  Australian  tribes,  these  offences 
are  breaches  of  the  strict  marriage  laws  (incest), 
and  murder  by  sorcery.  In  such  cases  the  elders 
arrange  for  an  avenging  party  to  go  out  and  punish 
the  offenders  (Spencer-Gillen",  pp.  15,  477;  b25, 
556  ff. ).  In  some  instances  the  council  has  nothing 
to  do  with  cases  of  murder,  adultery,  etc. ;  and 
only  those  relating  to  property  or  to  litigation  are 
brought  before  it  (Nagas  [Stewart,  JBASBe  xxiv., 
1855,  p.  609],  Kandhs  [Dalton,  Elh.  of  'Bengal,  Calc, 
1872,  p.  294],  and  Formosans  [Letourneau,  L'Evol. 
juridique,  p.  94]).  Or,  as  among  some  N.  American 
tribes  (Ojibwas,  Wyandots,  etc.),  the  avenger 
appears  before  a  council,  and,  having  obtained 
judgment  in  his  favour,  demands  compensation. 
If  this  is  not  given,  he  falls  back  on  revenge 
(Kohler,  ZVBW  xii.  [1897]  407).  In  many  cases, 
too,  the  council  (as  in  the  case  of  the  chief)  delegates 
the  execution  of  justice  to  the  person  who  would 
otherwise  be  the  avenger.  Sometimes  the  leading 
men  of  a  group  will  intervene  to  prevent  disputes 
or  to  arrange  composition.  Less  usual  are  the 
instances  where  the  decision  of  a  council  is  taken 
as  final  in  all  private  cases  (Todas  and  other 
aboriginal  Indian  tribes  [Shortt,  TES,  new  ser. 
vii. ,  1868,  p.  241 ;  Forsyth,  Highlands  of  Cent.  India, 
1871,  p.  361],  Tagbanua  [Worcester,  Philippine 
Islands,  New  York,  1898,  p.  107],  and  a  few  others). 
Thus,  generally  speaking,  the  savage  council  seldom 
constitutes  a  court  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word. 
With  the  advancing  power  of  the  chief,  the 
administration  of  public  justice  passes  largely  into 
his  hands ;  yet  even  here  private  revenge — the  blood- 
feud,  or  the  right  of  the  husband  to  punish  in  cases 
of  adultery — is  still  used  and  permitted,  and  often 
the  chief's  prerogative  is  exercised  only  when 
appeal  has  been  made  to  him.  But  there  now 
comes  into  great  prominence,  especially  among 
higher  savage  tribes,  a  regular  system  of  compensa- 
tion or  fines  for  various  crimes,  payable  to  the 
aggrieved  person  or  his  representatives,  or,  in  some 
cases,  to  the  chief.  We  find  also  in  many  places 
regular  codes  of  laws,  with  punishments  appointed 
for  different  offences.  Sometimes  the  chief  merely 
intervenes  to  prevent  excessive  revenge  and  to 
suggest  compensation,  as  among  many  American 
Indian  and  African  tribes ;  sometimes  his  power 
of  intervention  is  limited  to  certain  crimes,  generally 
those  of  a  public  kind ;  or,  again,  he  merely  acts 
as  arbiter  or  adviser  rather  than  as  judge.     But, 


the  more  his  power  is  established,  and  the  more 
autocratic  he  is,  so  much  the  more  do  his  functions 
as  judge  increase.  This  is  especially  true  of  many 
of  the  chiefs  and  petty  monarchs  of  Africa,  and  in 
general  of  all  tribes  whose  social  organization  is  high. 
Frequently  the  chief  may  associate  with  himself  a 
council  of  elders  ;  or,  again,  as  among  the  Kafirs, 
village  chiefs  judge  lesser  matters,  while  chiefs  of 
clans  hear  appeals  against  their  judgments  and 
try  all  more  serious  crimes,  aided  by  the  advice  of 
a  council  (Letourneau,  p.  87).  With  few  excep- 
tions, where  justice  is  administered  by  a  chief  he  is 
careful  to  act  in  strict  accordance  with  the  estab- 
lished customs.  There  is,  however,  a  tendency 
among  chiefs  to  regard  every  real  or  imaginary 
offence  against  themselves  as  a  serious  crime,  while, 
where  their  power  is  autocratic  and  fines  are  paid 
to  themselves,  or  where  they  are  naturally  cruel, 
there  is  great  danger  of  injustice  and  of  atrocious 
punishments  being  meted  out.  But,  with  the 
decay  of  private  revenge,  the  administration  of 
justice  becomes  more  definite  and  strict,  especially 
as  we  advance  from  savage  to  barbarous  societies. 
The  court  or  chief  maintains  order,  upholds  the 
rights  of  every  member  of  society,  and  punishes 
all  crime.  Generally  speaking,  wherever  a  tribunal 
exists,  it  is  seen  to  be  a  guarantee,  not  found  in 
the  exercise  of  mere  revenge,  that  all  offenders 
shall  suffer,  and  suffer  proportionately  to  their 
offence. 

Where  cases  are  brought  before  a  council  or  a 
chief,  a  palaver  usually  takes  place,  at  which  both 
parties  are  fully  heard.  Sometimes  the  method 
of  the  oath  or  ordeal  is  resorted  to  in  order  to 
discover  the  truth  and  to  point  out  the  guilty 
person.  The  oath  is  frequently  in  the  form  of  a 
curse,  and  accompanies  the  drinking  of  a  poison 
or  of  some  liquid,  which  is  supposed  to  act  fatally 
upon  the  perjurer  or  the  guilty.  The  oath  is  thus 
a  species  of  ordeal.  But  the  ordeal  may  occur  by 
itself  in  various  forms  :  the  ordeal  by  fire,  by  red- 
hot  metal,  or  by  boiling  oil  or  water,  in  which  cases 
the  innocent  person  is  not  burned,  or  his  wound 
heals  within  a  certain  time ;  the  ordeal  by  water 
— remaining  under  water  for  a  certain  time  with- 
out drowning,  or  passing  safely  through  water  in 
which  crocodiles  lurk ;  the  ordeal  by  poison  (see 
Oath;  Ordeal;  Post,  ii.  459 ff.).  The  person 
who  is  proved  to  be  guilty,  if  he  has  not  already 
succumbed  to  the  ordeal,  is  then  punished  according 
to  the  nature  of  his  crime.  Among  savages,  secret 
societies,  such  as  the  Duk-Duk  of  New  Britain, 
supplement  the  action  of  private  revenge  or  public 
justice  where  these  are  imperfect,  and  punish  any 
one  who  commits  crime. 

4.  Variety  of  crimes. — The  idea  of  what  con- 
stitutes crime  in  savage  society  is  largely  akin  to 
that  entertained  in  civilized  societies.  But  there 
are  important  exceptions  to  this,  bound  up  with 
the  nature  of  savage  society  and  belief,  e.g.  breach 
of  tabu  or  religious  custom,  sorcery,  and  the  like. 
Again — perhaps  as  a  natural  outcome  of  uncon- 
trolled revenge  operating  in  later  times — there  is 
the  idea  that  accidental  woundings  or  homicides 
are  equally  punishable  with  those  committed 
intentionally,  though  in  many  cases  there  is  an 
approach  to  the  modern  view  of  accident,  and  a 
distinction  is  made  in  the  punishment  inflicted,  or 
no  punishment  follows  (cf.  Westermarck,  i.  217 ; 
Post,  ii.  214).  Sometimes  killing  in  self-defence  is 
punishable,  though  not  to  the  same  extent  as 
murder ;  and,  frequently,  there  is  a  distinction 
between  meditated  crime  and  that  committed  in 
the  heat  of  the  moment.  More  serious  is  the  view 
entertained  by  most  savage  tribes  that,  while  to 
kill  or  to  steal  from  a  fellow-tribesman  is  wrong, 
these  actions  when  committed  against  strangers  or 
members  of  another  tribe  are  not  crirres,  and  are 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Primitive  and  Savage) 


251 


even  praiseworthy.  They  are  apt  to  be  considered 
wrong,  however,  if  they  are  likely  to  bring  the 
vengeance  of  the  other  tribe  upon  the  tribe  of  the 
offender.  With  the  dawn  of  a  higher  morality  and 
a  wider  sense  of  responsibility  this  view  tends  to 
disappear.  Again,  we  generally  meet  with  the 
idea  that  the  weight  of  the  crime  varies  both 
according  to  the  rank  (and  often  the  age  and  sex) 
of  the  offender  and  according  to  that  of  the  victim. 
Chiefs  or  men  of  rank  may  commit  crimes  with 
impunity  or  with  slight  punishment,  but  crime 
committed  against  them  is  generally  punished 
more  severely  than  that  against  lesser  men.  This 
is  especially  seen  where  the  system  of  composi- 
tion for  crime  prevails,  the  blood-price  or  the 
fine  varying  strictly  according  to  the  rank  of 
the  victim,  and  often  also  according  to  the  rank 
of  the  offender.  These  views  continue  to  prevail 
in  higher  societies.  Approximating  to  the  custom 
of  more  advanced  civilization,  there  is  frequently 
a  distinction  made  between  a  first  crime  and  its 
repetition.  A  first  offence  may  be  punished  com- 
paratively lightly  ;  a  second  or  third  will  receive 
the  utmost  penalty — death  or  banishment. 

Thus  among  the  Bambara,  for  a  first  theft  a  hand  is  ampu- 
tated ;  for  a  second  the  penalty  is  death  (Letourneau,  p.  78). 
The  Aleuts  punish  a  first  theft  with  corporal  punishment,  a 
second  with  amputation  of  some  fingers,  a  third  with  ampu- 
tation of  a  hand  and  lips,  a  fourth  with  death  (Petroff,  '  Report 
on  .  .  .  Alaska,'  Tenth  Census  of  the  United  States,  Washing- 
ton, 1884,  p.  152).  Among  the  Wakamba,  a  first  murder  is 
punished  by  a  fine,  but  on  a  second  conviction  the  murderer 
is  killed  at  once  (Decle,  Three  Years  in  Savage  Africa,  1898, 
p.  487). 

In  general,  those  crimes  which  may  be  considered 
public,  inasmuch  as  they  are  committed  against 
the  customs,  or  to  the  danger,  of  the  whole  com- 
munity, are  sorcery  (involving,  according  to  current 
belief,  all  natural  death),  breaches  of  the  customary 
marriage  laws  (incest),  sacrilege  (breaking  of  tabu), 
and  treason.  Private  crimes — those  committed 
against  private  persons — include  murder,  adultery, 
unchastity,  theft,  perjury,  and  the  like.  Some 
of  the  latter  may  be  regarded  as  public  crimes  if 
they  are  committed  against  the  chief,  because 
of  the  relation  in  which  he  stands  to  the  com- 
munity. There  are,  of  course,  many  lesser  crimes, 
while,  especially  where  chiefs  have  the  power  of 
making  laws,  there  is  a  tendency  to  multiply 
offences.  With  the  greater  development  of  savage 
society,  and  with  the  gradual  formation  of  a  cen- 
tral administrative  body  taking  the  place  of  mere 
public  opinion  and  custom,  these  private  crimes 
are  regarded  less  and  less  as  offences  against  an 
individual,  and  more  and  more  as  breaches  of  law 
and  transgressions  against  social  order.  But  it  is 
rather  at  the  next  higher  stage,  in  barbaric  and 
semi-civilized  societies,  that  a  real  approximation 
to  this  view  is  found. 

5.  Punishments. — Punishment  administered  by 
public  justice  in  savage  society  has  generally  the 
intention  of  making  the  offender  suffer  pain,  and 
is  thus  analogous  to  punishment  inflicted  as  an  act 
of  private  revenge.  The  lex  talionis,  or  principle 
of  equivalence  in  punishment,  is  perhaps  originally 
connected  with  the  reflex  and  instinctive  move- 
ments of  the  person  who  is  hurt,  and  who  attempts 
to  make  the  aggressor  suffer  a  similar  hurt  by  a 
natural  process  of  imitation.  There  must  be  blow 
for  blow.  At  the  same  time  this  movement  is  one 
of  self-preservation,  and  this  also  is  an  element  of 
all  punishment.  Such  instinctive  resentment  is, 
however,  indiscriminate  in  the  amount  of  ven- 
geance which  it  employs,  and  this  primitive  instinct 
of  blow  for  blow,  whilst  suggesting  the  lex  talionis, 
is  not  sufficient  as  an  explanation  of  it.  We  may, 
therefore,  with  Westermarck  (i.  179),  look  for  a 
further  explanation  of  it  in  the  feeling  of  self- 
regarding  pride  which  desires  to  bring  the  aggressor 
to  the  same  level  as  the  sufferer,  and  in  the  social 


feeling  that  members  of  the  same  society  have 
equal  rights,  and  hence,  if  one  makes  another 
suffer,  he  must  suffer  in  a  similar  way  and  to  the 
same  extent. 

The  simplest  form  of  the  lex  talionis  is  found  in 
the  idea  of  life  for  life,  wound  for  wound,  eye  for 
eye,  tooth  for  tooth.  But  it  also  assumes  some 
curious  forms ;  for  example,  especially  in  the  case 
of  the  blood-feud,  there  is  often  the  desire  that  the 
vengeance  should  fall  on  one  of  the  same  rank,  or 
the  same  sex,  or  the  same  age,  as  the  victim — the 
real  aggressor  thus  escaping.  Again,  the  ven- 
geance is  exacted  with  the  same  kind  of  weapon, 
and  in  the  same  manner.  Or,  where  a  system  of 
compensations  and  fines  exists,  these  are  in  due 
proportion  to  the  amount  of  pain  caused.  Or  it  is 
seen  working^  in  still  another  way  :  the  thief  is 
deprived  of  sight,  of  an  arm  or  hand  ;  the  perjurer 
loses  his  tongue  ;  the  adulterer  or  ravisher  is  cas- 
trated ;  or,  again,  the  thief  must  not  only  restore 
the  goods  stolen,  but  must  submit  to  be  pillaged 
to  the  same  extent  (see  Post,  ii.  238  ff.  ;  Hobhouse, 
i.  84,  91). 

But,  while  the  lex  talionis  is  found  as  an  under- 
lying principle  both  in  savage  and  in  more  advanced 
systems  (cf.  e.g.  the  OT  and  the  Bab.  Code  of 
ffammurabi),  there  is  often  a  disposition  to  exceed 
it,  so  that  methods  of  private  revenge  as  well  as 
public  punishments  are  often  out  of  all  proportion 
to  the  crime  committed,  especially  in  places  where 
the  people  are  naturally  cruel,  where  a  despotic 
chief  rules,  or  where  it  is  held  that  a  Divine  as 
well  as  a  human  law  is  transgressed.  In  the  last 
case,  as  well  as  in  cases  where  the  chief  is  regarded 
as  Divine  or  as  having  Divine  authority,  any 
transgression  of  law  is  apt  to  involve  the  whole 
society  in  Divine  vengeance.  Hence  the  punish- 
ment is  swift  and  proportionately  severe  (cf.  Durk- 
heim,  'Deux  lois  de  devolution  p^nale,'  ASoc  iv. 
64  ff. ).  Savage  acts  of  revenge,  unregulated  or 
regulated,  as  well  as  methods  of  punishment,  are 
also  often  excessive,  since  they  involve  the  punish- 
ment of  an  innocent  person  in  place  of  the  real 
offender  (in  many  instances  of  the  blood-feud  or 
of  the  lex  talionis),  or  that  of  innocent  persons 
in  addition  to  the  real  offender  (his  wife  and 
children,  especially  in  cases  of  sorcery,  and  these 
as  well  as  fellow-clansmen  in  some  instances  of  the 
blood-feud),  as  a  result  of  the  idea  of  solidarity 
and  collective  responsibility — a  principle  lingering 
on  in  more  advanced  societies. 

In  a  few  cases  capital  punishment  seldom  or 
never  occurs.  But,  as  a  rule,  it  is  meted  out  in 
most  tribes  for  one  or  other  of  such  crimes  as 
sorcery,  murder,  incest,  treason,  sacrilege,  adul- 
tery, and  theft.  Some  tribes  punish  capitally  only 
for  sorcery  and  murder,  or  for  sorcery  and  adultery 
(especially  with  the  wives  of  chiefs) ;  but  not  un- 
commonly all  these  offences  are  liable  to  the 
punishment  of  death.  Further,  in  such  despotic 
kingdoms  as  Ashanti  or  other  regions  of  Africa, 
as  well  as  sporadically  elsewhere,  even  small 
offences  are  punishable  with  death,  at  the  capri- 
cious will  of  the  chief  (Ellis,  Tshi-speaking  Peoples, 
1887,  p.  166  ;  Kollmann,  Victoria  Nyanza,  Berlin, 
1899,  p.  170  f.). 

The  methods  of  death  vary;  they  include  decapitation, 
strangulation,  hanging,  stabbing  or  spearing,  cudgelling  or 
flagellation,  empalement,  crucifixion,  drowning,  burning,  flay- 
ing alive,  burying  alive,  throwing  from  a  height,  stoning,  sending 
the  criminal  to  sea  in  a  leaky  canoe,  cutting  in  two,  lopping  oil 
the  limbs.  In  some  cases,  where  the  crime  is  believed  to  be 
particularly  offensive  to  the  gods,  the  criminal  is  offered  in 
sacrifice,  while  this  is  not  an  unusual  way  of  obtaining 
victims  where  human  sacrifice  prevails  (Melanesia  [Codrington, 
Melanesians,  1891,  p.  135],  Sandwich  Islands  [von  Kotzebue, 
Voy.  of  Discov.  into  the  S.  Sea,  1821,  iii.  248],  Tahiti  [Ellis, 
Polynes.  Res.,  1829,  i.  846] ;  cf.  Ciesar,  vi.  16  [Gauls] ;  Grimm, 
Teut.  Myth.,  1882,  i.  45  [Teutons]).  In  certain  regions  where 
cannibalism  prevails,  criminals  are  killed  and  eaten,  probably 
as  an  extreme  form  of  gratifying  revenge  and  showing  contempt 


252 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Primitive  and  Savage) 


(cf.  Cannibalism,  §  ii.  15 ;  Codrington,  p.  344  ;  von  Martius, 
Travels  in  Brazil,  1824,  i.  88). 

Of  all  these  methods  the  most  cruel  are  found  in  Africa, 
where  also  mutilation  before  death,  as  well  as  other  tortures, 
is  practised  (cf.  Letourneau,  pp.  71,  81,  82,  88 ;  Post,  ii.  274  ; 
Westermarck,  i.  195). 

Other  punishments  consist  of  various  bodily 
mutilations — cutting  oft*  legs  or  arms,  hands  or 
feet  (or  parts  of  these),  nose,  ears,  lips ;  castration ; 
and  plucking  out  the  eyes.  All  these  are  found 
commonly  in  Africa,  among  Anier.  Indian  tribes, 
in  the  South  Sea  Islands,  and  occasionally  else- 
where. Flogging  or  beating  with  various  instru- 
ments on  various  parts  of  the  body — back,  hips, 
shoulders,  legs,  stomach — is  also  used  (in  S. 
America,  among  the  Mongols,  in  Africa).  En- 
slavement is  found  as  an  occasional  punishment  for 
crime  or  for  debt  (commonly  in  Africa  and  in  the 
Malay  Archipelago,  and  sporadically  elsewhere) ; 
or,  where  the  criminal  has  failed  to  pay  the  due 
compensation,  he  is  often  enslaved,  or  the  usual 
punishment  is  inflicted  upon  him.  He  becomes 
the  slave  of  his  victim  or  of  the  latter's  family,  or 
of  the  chief,  or  he  may  be  sold.  Confiscation  of 
goods,  in  whole  or  in  part,  is  a  frequent  punish- 
ment in  cases  of  theft.  Banishment  occurs  here 
and  there  (New  Zealand,  Mongols,  some  African 
tribes)  as  a  punishment  for  certain  crimes,  but  it 
is  often  the  result  of  general  bad  or  unruly 
behaviour  threatening  the  peace  of  the  tribe  (see 
Westermarck,  i.  172;  Steinmetz,  Ethnol.  Stud, 
zur  ersten  Entwick.  der  Strafe,  vol.  ii.  eh.  5).  Lack 
of  filial  duty  among  the  Kafirs,  and  lying  among 
the  Bannavs  of  Cambodia,  are  punished  with 
banishment  (Lichtenstein,  Travels  in  S.  Africa, 
1812-15,  i.  265;  Mouhot,  Trav.  in  Central  Parts  of 
Indo-China,  1864,  ii.  27).  Other  punishments  are 
various  forms  of  dishonour — cutting  off  the  hair, 
insulting  exhibition  or  parade  of  the  culprit,  dress- 
ing in  women's  clothes.  Imprisonment  as  a  punish- 
ment is  rarely  found  among  savages,  but  instances 
are  noted  in  various  parts  of  Africa  (Krapf, 
Travels  .  .  .  in  E.  Africa,  1860,  p.  58 ;  Letourneau, 
pp.  80,  84  ;  Post,  Afr.  Jur.  ii.  51). 

There  is  also  a  wide-spread  system  of  compen- 
sation or  fine  for  certain  offences.  This  method  of 
indemnifying  the  victim  or  his  relatives  is  itself  a 
species  of  punishment,  though,  where  the  aggressor 
is  wealthy,  it  is  easy  for  him  to  pay  for  his  crimes. 
The  system  probably  originated  in  the  custom 
of  paying  blood-money  to  the  relatives  of  a  mur- 
dered man.  The  aggressor,  to  avoid  a  blood-feud, 
would  offer  presents  to  the  relatives  to  appease 
their  anger,  while  at  the  same  time  appealing  to 
their  love  of  gain.  This,  defective  as  it  may  be 
from  the  point  of  view  of  justice,  was  soon  seen  to 
have  the  good  effect  of  staying  the  excesses  of  the 
blood-feud,  and  would  be  encouraged  by  the  com- 
munity or  the  chief.  Similarly,  compensation  for 
theft  may  also  have  been  suggested  by  the  custom 
of  subjecting  the  chief  to  pillage  of  his  goods.  The 
system  of  compensation  was  largely  adopted,  and 
passed  over  into  the  administration  of  public  justice 
as  a  method  of  assessing  criminal  actions.  But  it 
was  far  from  being  universally  accepted  either  in 
systems  of  private  revenge  or  in  public  punishment, 
and,  even  where  it  prevails,  certain  crimes  cannot 
be  compensated  for,  e.g.  sorcery  and  deliberate 
murder.  It  has  a  wide-spread  vogue,  however,  as  a 
regular  custom,  or  as  an  alternative  to  punishment 
in  cases  of  murder,  adultery,  seduction,  theft,  etc. 
(cf.  Post,  ii.  256  ft'.,  for  a  list  of  peoples  among 
whom  it  is  found).  Where  it  prevails,  a  regular 
system  of  payments  is  fixed  according  to  the  injury 
done,  according  to  the  rank  or  sex  of  the  victim, 
and  sometimes  according  to  the  rank  of  the 
aggressor. 

In  many  instances — in  such  serious  crimes  as  sor- 
nery,  murder,  or  crimes  committed  against  a  chief 


or  his  household — the  wife  and  children  of  the 
aggressor  suffer  with  him,  or  are  sold  as  slaves. 
Or,  where  compensation  has  not  been  paid,  wife 
and  children  may  be  taken  with  the  defaulting 
criminal  and  enslaved ;  or  he  himself  may  sell 
them  in  order  to  obtain  the  wherewithal  to  pay  the 
compensation.  In  the  first  two  instances  the 
savage  doctrine  of  human  solidarity  is  seen  at 
work — a  principle  emphasized  in  the  blood-feud, 
where  the  murderer's  family  or  clan  is  often  held 
responsible  for  his  act  and  the  members  are  liable 
to  be  slain  for  it. 

As  a  further  form  of  indignity  and  punishment, 
the  body  of  a  criminal  is  often  left  un  buried,  or  is 
thrown  into  the  forest  to  be  devoured  by  wild 
beasts  (African  tribes  [Post,  Afr.  Jur.  i.  46] ; 
Eskimos  [Rink,  Tales  and  Trad,  of  the  Eskimo, 
1875,  p.  54] ;  Cent.  America  [Preuss,  Die  Begrab. 
der  Amer.,  Konigsberg,  1894,  p.  301]). 

6.  As  has  already  been  said,  a  distinction  is 
drawn  even  by  the  most  backward  peoples  between 
public  and  private  crimes.  Some  examples  of 
both  will  now  be  discussed,  showing  the  attitude 
of  the  savage  with  regard  to  them  and  the  punish- 
ments meted  out  to  the  aggressors. 

i.  Public  Crimes. — As  examples  of  public 
crimes  may  be  taken  sorcery,  incest,  and  sacri- 
lege. 

(1)  Sorcery. — As  distinct  from  magic,  which  is 
authorized  for  the  public  good,  sorcery,  though  its 
methods  may  often  be  similar,  is  almost  universally 
punished  by  the  common  action  of  a  tribe  or  by 
the  central  authority  acting  in  its  name.  The 
sorcerer  is  employing  unlawful  means  for  anti- 
social ends,  especially  to  bring  about  the  sickness 
or  death  of  his  neighbours,  or  to  cause  sterility  in 
field  or  fold.  Further,  inasmuch  as  the  crime  is 
an  anti-social  one,  it  is  for  that  very  reason  a  crime 
against  the  divinity  of  the  social  group,  its  guardian 
or  tutelary  spirit.  As  among  the  Eskimos,  it  is 
adverse  to  the  interests  of  the  community  and  to 
the  supreme  rule  of  things  in  which  the  people 
believe  (Rink,  op.  cit.  p.  41).  Further,  where 
spirits  invoked  in  magic  are  evil  and  maleficent, 
they  are  such  as  are  opposed  to  the  rule  of  the 
benevolent  spirit  or  divinity,  according  to  the 
usual  dualism  which  prevails  in  savage  religion. 
Thus,  sorcery  is  condemned  on  religious  as  well  as 
on  social  or  moral  grounds,  and  those  who  are 
most  active  in  pursuing  it  are  generally  the 
approved  fetish-men  or  priests.  Moreover,  the 
divinities  are  sometimes  said  to  abhor  witchcraft 
and  to  punish  it  in  the  future  life  (Rink,  p.  41 ; 
Parker,  Euahlayi  Tribe,  1905,  p.  79 ;  Codrington, 
p.  274).  As  it  is  a  wide-spread  lielief  that  all  sick- 
ness or  death  is  due  to  unnatural  causes,  one  of 
which  is  sorcery,  there  is  a  wide  field  for  the 
exercise  of  public  justice  against  the  sorcerer,  who 
is  generally  regarded  as  a  murderer  of  a  particularly 
offensive  type.  Hence,  not  only  in  the  lower 
culture,  but  at  higher  levels,  law,  and  custom  con- 
demn him.  He  is  a  danger  to  society  ;  he  offends 
against  its  gods ;  and,  because  of  the  solidarity  of 
the  society,  it  may  be  visited  by  them  for  his 
offence.  Therefore  he  -is  almost  invariably  pun- 
ished with  death.  Sorcery  is  sometimes  the  only 
crime  which  is  so  punished,  while  the  method  of 
death  is  often  very  cruel.  In  most  cases  the 
authorized  magician,  medicine-man,  fetish-man, 
priest,  or  witch-doctor,  takes  steps  to  discover  the 
sorcerer.  When  he  is  found,  he  is  often  subjected 
to  an  ordeal,  e.g.  by  poison.  If  this  does  not  kill 
him  but  proves  him  guilty,  he  is  then  publicly  put 
to  death.  The  ordeal  is  thus  equivalent  to  the 
trial  of  the  suspected  person. 

Among  Australian  tribes,  with  whom  all  natural  death  ib 
attributed  to  sorcery,  death  is  the  invariable  punishment.  The 
medicine-man  identifies  the  guilty  person,  an  avenging  party 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Primitive  and  Savage) 


253 


is  Arranged  by  the  council  of  old  men,  and  the  culprit  is  fol- 
lowed up  and  slain  (Spencer-Gillen11,  pp.  46  f.,  477;  h  25,  650). 
With  the  Eskimos,  the  angekuts  are  hostile  to  sorcerers  and 
cause  them  to  be  put  to  death  (Rink,  pp.  34,  41  ;  Petroff,  op. 
cit.  p.  162).  The  punishment  of  death  was  generally  meted 
out  to  sorcerers,  who  were  much  feared  among;  the  American 
Indian  tribes  of  all  degrees  of  culture,  from  the  lowest  tribes 
up  to  the  Aztecs,  the  method  of  death  being  often  cruel — 
e.g.  burning  (Wyandots,  Guatemalans)  and  cudgelling  (Vera 
Paz).  With  the  Aztecs  the  victim  was  sacrificed  to  the  gods 
(JV.R  ii.  462 ;  cf.  Post,  ii.  395  ;  Kohler,  ZVRWxii.  [1897)412-416  ; 
Waitz,  Anthropologic,  Leipzig,  1859-1872,  iii.  12S).  Among  the 
Nufors  of  New  Guinea  sorcerers  are  stabbed  and  thrown  into 
the  sea  (ZE  viii.  [1SS8]  193),  and  the  punishment  of  death  is 
usual  in  N.  Guinea  and  among  the  peoples  of  the  Malay  penin- 
sula (Wilken,  '  Het  stafr.  bij  de  volken  van  het  mal.  ras,'  in 
Bijdragen  tot  de  taal-,  land-,  en  volkenkunde  van  Ned.-Indie, 
The  Hague,  1883,  p.  21).  In  Fiji,  where  witchcraft  exerted  the 
Btrongest  influence  on  the  minds  of  the  people,  the  person 
detected  in  using  it  was  slain  (Williams,  Fiji,  1870,  i.  248). 
In  New  Caledonia,  old  women  are  often  put  to  death  as  sorcer- 
esses, and  men  who  are  Buspected  of  causing  death  by  sorcery 
are  formally  condemned  and  forced  to  jump  over  the  rocks 
into  the  sea  (Turner,  Samoa,  1SS4,  p.  342).  In  W.  Africa,  any 
one  may  kill  the  sorcerer  ;  but  generally  after  detection  by  the 
witch-doctor  an  ordeal  is  necessary,  and  the  spirit  of  the  ordeal 
sometimes  kills  the  sorcerer.  Otherwise  he  is  put  to  death, 
and  his  private  property  is  often  confiscated  (cf.  Nassau, 
Fetichism  in  W.  Afr.,  1904,  p.  123  ;  Kingsley,  W.  Afr.  Studies?, 
1901,  p.  159  S.  ;  Letourneau,  p.  68 ;  Post,  Afr.  Jur.  ii.  66-67). 
Among  the  Lendu,  a  forest  tribe  of  Uganda,  the  sorcerer  is 
executed,  and  hiB  body  is  thrown  into  the  bush  (Johnston, 
Uganda  Protectorate,  1902,  ii.  654  f.).  In  E.  Cent.  Africa,  when 
the  suspected  sorcerer  has  been  discovered  before  the  assembled 
community  by  the  witch-finder,  he  must  drink  a  poisoned 
cup.  If  his  stomach  rejects  it,  he  is  acquitted  ;  if  it  causes 
his  death,  this  proves  him  guilty.  In  some  cases  he  is  burned 
alive  (Macdonald,  Africana,  1882,  i.  43,  206  ff.  ;  Letourneau, 
p.  69).  In  S.  Africa,  witch-doctors  discover  sorcerers,  who  are 
thought  to  be  very  numerous  and  powerful.  When  discovered, 
they  are  put  to  death  (Casalis,  The  Basutos,  p.  229 ;  Decle,  op. 
cit.  p.  75  ;  Maclean,  Eajir  Laws  and  Customs,  1838,  p.  35  ff.). 

Where  the  punishment  of  death  is  not  inflicted,  the  sorcerer 
may  be  sold  as  a  slave  (some  African  tribes  [Post,  Afr.  Jur.  ii. 
66-67])  ;  and  occasionally  a  fine  is  all  that  is  demanded,  but  this 
is  very  rare  (Bondei  natives  [J A I  xxv.  227]). 

Not  infrequently  the  punishment  is  visited  on  the  relatives 
of  the  Borcerer  and  upon  his  goods.  Sometimes  all  these  are 
destroyed  (Decle,  p.  153  [Matabele] ;  Post,  Afr.  Jur.  ii.  66-67, 
149  [Zulus  and  other  African  tribes]).  In  Bali,  the  parents, 
children,  and  grandchildren  are  put  to  death,  and  the  property 
is  confiscated  (Crawfurd,  Ind.  Archip.,  Edinb.  1820,  iii.  138). 
In  the  Babar  Archipelago,  the  sorcerer  and  all  his  adult  blood- 
relations  are  slain,  and  the  children  given  to  the  relatives  of 
his  victim  to  sell  as  slaves  (Riedel,  De  sluik-  en  kroeshar.  Rassen, 
The  Hague,  1886,  p.  346).  Among  many  W.  African  tribes, 
while  the  sorcerer  is  executed,  his  family  are  sold  as  slaves 
(Post,  ii.  67,  154). 

(2)  Incest. — While  the  civilized  man's  horror  of 
incest  is  usually  confined  to  cases  of  marriage  or 
sexual  relations  between  parents  and  children  or 
brothers  and  sisters,  among  primitive  and  savage 
peoples  the  bars  to  marriage,  while  generally  in- 
cluding these,  usually  extend  much  further. 
Where  the  classificatory  system  prevails,  the 
society  is  divided  into  classes,  from  certain  of 
which  a  man  must  not  choose  a  wife.  Or,  again, 
he  may  not  marry  within  his  totem,  his  clan,  his 
village,  or  even  his  tribe.  Again,  marriage  may 
be  prohibited  within  the  kindred  absolutely,  or 
within  the  kindred  on  the  mother's  side,  where 
mother-right  prevails  (generally  a  totemic  prohi- 
bition). In  the  last  case  a  man  might  marry  his 
wife's  daughter,  or  his  brother's  daughter ;  or  a 
brother  might  marry  a  sister  by  a  different  mother, 
since  they  would  be  of  different  totems.  But,  as 
a  rule,  these  unions  are  also  looked  upon  with 
abhorrence.  Thus,  while  in  savage  life  consan- 
guineous unions  are,  with  certain  exceptions,  re- 
garded as  incestuous,  the  prohibitions  have  usually 
a  much  wider  range,  and  all  breaches  of  exogamous 
law  are  equally  regarded  as  incestuous.  While 
adultery  is  mainly  punished  as  a  private  offence, 
incest  is  an  offence  against  the  whole  group,  and 
is  often  considered  to  bring  ill-luck  and  l)ivine 
punishment  upon  the  group,  who  are  collectively 
responsible.  It  is,  therefore,  punished  as  a  public 
offence.  Usually  it  is  looked  upon  with  so  much 
horror  that  it  is  unheard  of ;  but,  where  it  does 
occur,  death  to  both  offenders  is  the  usual  punish- 
ment, though  lighter  punishments  are  occasionally 


found.  With  rare  exceptions,  the  prohibition  ex- 
tends also  to  all  sexual  relations  outside  marriage 
between  persons  belonging  to  exogamous  groups. 
(For  various  theories  of  the  prohibition  of  mar- 
riage, of  exogamy,  and  of  the  horror  of  incest,  see 
Westermarck,  Marriage,  1894,  p.  310  ff.  ;  Lang, 
Social  Origins,  1903  ;  Durkheim,  '  La  Prohib.  de 
l'inceste  et  ses  origines,'  ASoc  i.  [1898]  64.) 

Some  examples  of  the  belief  that  incest  brings 
ill-luck  or  is  obnoxious  to  the  gods  may  be  cited. 
Ruin  to  the  crops,  continuous  drought,  continuous 
rains,  are  the  result  of  incest,  according  to  the 
Dayaks,  the  Battas,  the  Galelareese  (who  also 
attribute  earthquakes  and  eruptions  to  the  same 
crime),  and  other  tribes  (Frazer,  GB',  1900,  ii. 
212-213  ;  Post,  ii.  388).  They  must  be  atoned  for 
usually  by  a  sacrifice,  and  the  criminals  are  pun- 
ished. Or,  as  in  Kafir  and  Aleut  belief,  the 
offspring  of  incestuous  unions  are  monsters,  the 
Kafirs  believing  this  to  be  brought  about  by  an 
ancestral  spirit  (Shooter,  Kafirs  of  Natal,  1857, 
p.  45 ;  Petroff,  op.  cit.  p.  155).  The  Samoans  re- 
gard it  as  a  crime  abhorred  by  the  gods  (Turner, 
p.  92),  and  the  Pasemah  believe  that  those  com- 
mitting it  are  annihilated  by  the  gods  (Post,  i.  41). 
As  in  many  cases  both  adultery  and  unchastity 
are  supposed  to  bring  general  misfortune,  or  to 
be  abhorrent  to  the  gods,  it  is  possible  that  with 
such  peoples  the  marriage-laws  are  believed  to 
have  been  ordained  by  the  deities. 

Among  the  Australian  tribes,  the  usual  punishment  for 
breaches  of  the  exogamous  customs  was  death,  occasionally 
cutting  and  burning.  As  among  the  Central  Australian  tribes, 
the  punishment  is  determined  by  the  head-men,  who  organize 
a  party  to  carry  out  the  sentence  (Westermarck,  Marr.  p. 
299  f.  ;  Spencer-GUlen",  pp.  16,  100,  495 ;  »>  136,  140).  The 
Veddas,  often  wrongfully  accused  of  practising  brother-sister 
unions,  abhor  incest,  and  punish  it  with  death  (Nevill,  in  Tfte 
Taprobanian,  Bombay,  n.d. ,  i.  178).  The  same  punishment  is 
usually  inflicted  throughout  Melanesia  (J A I  xviii.  282;  Mac- 
donald, Oceania,  1889,  p.  181).  The  Kandhs,  Gonds,  and  other 
aboriginal  tribes  in  India  also  punish  incest  (marriage  within 
the  same  tribe,  gens,  etc.)  with  death  (Percival,  Land  of  the 
Veda,  1854,  p.  346;  Kohler,  ZVRW  viii.  [1888]  145).  Among 
the  BhDs  it  is  punished  with  banishment  (Kohler,  ib.  x.  [1892] 
68).  Throughout  the  Mala}'  Archipelago  the  death  punishment 
was  often  of  a  very  cruel  kind — committing  to  sea  in  a  leaky 
vessel,  drowning,  or  throwing  into  a  volcano,  burying  alive, 
killing  and  eating  (Wilken,  Globus,  lix.  [1S91]  22  ;  Frazer,  GB*, 
ii.  213-214 ;  Riedel,  op.  cit.  pp.  195,  232,  460).  Similarly,  among 
the  American  Indians,  death  was  the  usual  punishment 
(Kohler,  ZVRW  xii.  [1897]  412-416;  NR  ii.  466,  659;  Frazer, 
Totemism,  1887,  p.  59). 

Possibly  in  some  of  these  cases  the  victims  were  regarded  as 
expiatory  sacrifices  offered  to  the  gods  or  spirits.  In  some 
instances  of  supposed  incest,  animal  sacrifices  are  offered,  or 
the  blood  is  sprinkled  on  the  ground  to  avert  drought  and 
sterility  (Frazer,  GB?,  ii.  212-213  ;  Post,  ii.  389).  The  death  of 
the  criminals  or  of  the  animal  victims  averts  danger  and  a 
curse  from  the  community. 

As  opposed  to  exogamy,  most  peoples  have 
endogamous  rules  forbidding  marriage  outside  a 
certain  circle,  narrower  or  wider  as  the  case  may 
be — the  family,  clan,  caste,  tribe,  etc.  Such  a 
marriage  is  regarded  as  disgraceful,  and  in  some 
cases  as  a  crime  which  may  be  punished  in  various 
ways.  But  these  rules  have  a  different  origin  from 
those  of  exogamy,  and  result  mainly  from  pride, 
antipathy,  or  prejudice  (see  Westermarck,  Marr. 
p.  363  ff.;  Post,  i.  32  ff.). 

(3)  Sacrilege. — Of  all  forms  of  sacrilege  in  savage 
life,  that  which  concerns  breach  of  tabu  is  the  most 
general.  Tabu  is  an  interdiction  upon  doing  or 
saying  some  particular  thing,  an  embargo  placed 
on  some  thing  or  some  person  or  persons,  the 
infraction  of  which  is  frequently  supposed  to  carry 
its  own  punishment  automatically,  preconceptions 
about  tabu  bringing  about  the  fatal  result  through 
auto-suggestion.  But,  as  the  person  who  breaks 
the  tabu  is  supposed  to  spread  the  danger  by  a 
species  of  contagion,  and  as  breach  of  tabu  fre- 
quently brings  disaster  to  the  tribe  or  its  land, 
even  where  the  automatic  punishment  may  be 
looked  for,  he  is  often  punished  by  society  as  s 


254 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Primitive  and  Savage) 


whole,  because  he  has  sinned  against  the  gods,  or 
has  committed  a  breach  of  social  order  involving 
supernatural  results.  He  is  put  to  death,  for  such 
a  dangerous  person  is  safer  out  of  the  way.  Tabu 
need  be  considered  here  only  in  so  far  as  it  illus- 
trates the  savage  view  of  public  crime.  Many 
irrational  tabus  have  probably  been  imposed  at 
one  time  by  public  opinion  for  some  definite  reason 
arising  out  of  experience,  real  or  imaginary.  If 
something  is  conceived  to  be  dangerous  for  any 
reason,  e.g.  on  account  of  its  connexion  with  spirits 
or  gods,  then  it  is  wise  to  avoid  it.  The  avoidance 
constitutes  a  tabu,  and  it  becomes  sacrilege  to 
break  it.  Other  tabus,  those  on  food-stuffs  or 
animals  at  certain  seasons,  have  been  imposed  as 
a  wise  precaution,  or  in  the  interests  of  a  class  or 
sex.  Many  others  are  wilfully  imposed  by  chiefs 
or  priests.  Generally  all  tabus  have  a  super- 
natural sanction,  and  the  automatic  punishment 
is  regarded  as  the  working  of  the  Divine  anger. 
Tabus  are  sometimes  of  a  private  sort  (tabus  on 
property),  but  more  often  they  have  a  public  char- 
acter— protective  (as  in  the  cases  of  food-supply, 
interdiction  of  places,  etc.),  political,  sexual  (as  in 
the  case  of  incest),  or  more  purely  religious.  Tabu 
has  to  some  extent  subserved  the  growth  of  the 
idea  that  crime  is  wrong.  Thus,  where  a  tabu  is 
placed  on  private  property  and  the  thief  is  be- 
lieved to  suffer  automatically  for  his  theft  (cf. 
Turner,  p.  185  f. ),  it  is  obvious  that  this  belief 
would  foster  the  idea  that  theft  is  wrong.  On  the 
other  hand,  many  breaches  of  tabu,  though  crime 
in  the  eyes  of  the  savage,  have  nothing  inherently 
immoral  in  them. 

Where  society  imposes  a  punishment  for  breach 
of  tabu,  that  punishment  is  generally  death.  In 
Polynesia,  where  the  institution  was  most  fully 
developed,  every  infraction  of  tabu,  or  even  the 
merest  suspicion  of  it,  was  visited  with  death, 
the  victim  being  usually  sacrificed  to  appease  the 
gods,  since  all  diseases  and  calamities  were  public 
manifestations  of  their  wrath  at  breach  of  tabu 
(Letourneau,  p.  61).  But  in  some  other  cases  it 
is  the  violation  of  conspicuous  tabus  which  is 
regarded  as  sacrilege  meriting  death. 

Thus,  with  most  savage  tribes  the  fruits  of  the  harvest 
cannot  be  partaken  of  until  the  flrstfruits  have  been  offered 
to  a  god  or  eaten  sacraraentally  by  selected  individuals — chief 
or  priest — or  by  all  the  people.  In  many  cases  to  eat  them 
before  this  solemn  ceremony  would  be  visited  with  Divine 
anger — madness  (Fiji  [JAI  xiv.  27]),  or  death  (Tahiti  [Ellis, 
op.  cit.  i.  350]).  But,  even  where  death  is  thus  held  to  follow 
automatically  the  act  of  sacrilege,  detection  carries  with  it  a 
public  punishment,  as  among  the  Zulus  (death  or  confiscation 
of  all  the  man's  cattle  [Frazer,  Gift  ii.  326])  and  Polynesians 
(Moerenhout,  Voy.  aux  lies  du  Grand  Oce'an,  Paris,  1837,  i. 
531).  An  analogous  crime  is  that  of  boiling  milk  among  the 
pastoral  Masai.  This  is  believed  to  cause  cows  to  go  dry,  and 
is  punished  as  an  insult  to  the  sacred  cattle,  with  death  or 
a  very  heavy  fine  (Johnston,  Kilima-njaro  Expedition,  1886, 
p.  425). 

A  more  obvious  form  of  sacrilege  is  the  viewing  of  various 
sacra  by  those  to  whom  they  are  interdicted,  e.g.  women  and 
children  ;  or  the  communication  of  initiation  secrets  to  the 
uninitiated  ;  or  intrusion  upon  sacred  mysteries — those  of  men 
by  women,  those  of  women  by  men.  Among  the  Australians, 
no  woman  may  look  upon  the  sacred  mysteries  of  the  men  on 
pain  of  death,  and  the  tundun,  or  bull-roarer,  must  never  be 
shown  to  a  woman  or  child.  If  it  is,  the  woman  and  the  man 
who  shows  it  (and  sometimes  his  mother  and  sisters)  are  put  to 
death.  Death  is  also  the  punishment  to  women  who  look 
upon  the  sacred  totemic  drawings,  or  (among  the  Arunta) 
intrude  upon  the  place  where  the  sacred  objects  are  kept. 
Generally  the  danger  of  revealing  these  things  is  told  to  boys 
at  initiation  (see  JAI  ii.  271,  xiii.  448,  xxv.  311 ;  Howitt  and 
Fison,  Eamilaroi  and  Kurnai,  1880,  p.  268 ;  Spencer-Gillena, 
pp.  11,  132,  t>  500  ;  also  above,  vol.  ii.  p.  889).  The  same  is  true 
of  the  natives  of  the  Papuan  Gulf  {JAI  xxxii.  425).  Among  the 
Indians  of  Brazil,  women  are  warned  off  the  mysteries  by  the 
playing  of  the  jurupari  pipes,  the  mere  chance  sight  of  which 
is  punished  with  death  (Wallace,  Amazon,  1S95,  p.  349).  Death 
is  also  the  penalty  for  infringing  the  initiation  rules  among  the 
Torres  Straits  tribes  (Haddon,  JAI  six.  335).  The  initiation 
rites  of  girls  are  also  tabu  to  men  in  most  districts,  generally 
under  pain  of  death,  inflicted  by  the  women  (Reade,  Savage 
Africa,  1S63,  p.  246 ;  Crawley,  Mystic  Rose,  1902,  p. ,  297). 
Intruders  on  the  mysteries  of  the  Porro  fraternity  in  the  Timui 


district  of  W.  Africa  are  put  to  death  or  sold  as  slaves,  and  this 
is  generally  true  of  all  savage  '  mysteries '  practised  by  men  ; 
while,  as  in  some  African  mysteries,  any  infraction  of  oaths  and 
covenants  by  their  members  is  believed  to  be  punished  by  the 
god  (Reville,  Rel.  des  peuples  non  civilise's,  Paris,  1833,  i.  110 ; 
CF,  p.  317).  Similarly,  as  in  the  case  of  the  female  Njembe 
society  in  W.  Africa,  the  mysteries  of  women  must  not  be 
looked  on  by  men  under  pain  of  death  (Nassau,  op.  cit.  p.  261 ; 
CF,  p.  318).  In  some  cases,  religious  rites  as  well  as  sacred 
places  are  tabu  to  women,  as  in  the  Marquesas  Islands,  where  a 
woman  is  put  to  death  if  she  touches  the  sacred  ground  where 
festivals  are  held  (Melville,  Marquesas  Islands,  1846,  p.  100). 

Examples  of  the  dangerous  results  of  tabu-breaking  by  the 
automatic  working  of  suggestion,  even  in  cases  where  the 
breach  has  been  unconscious,  and  has  been  made  known  to  the 
breaker  sometimes  only  after  a  long  lapse  of  time,  will  be  found 
in  Dennett,  Folk-Lore  of  the  Fjort,  1898,  pp.  xxvi,  xxix ;  Old 
New  Zealand,  by  a  Pakeha  Maori,  London,  1863,  p.  96 ;  JAI 
ix.  458.  Suggestion  also  produces  similar  automatic  results 
where  magic,  ghostly  warnings,  etc.,  are  believed  in,  and 
where  a  man  thinks  that  he  is  a  victim  of  these  (see  Erskine, 
IF.  Pacific,  1853,  p.  169 ;  Howitt  and  Fison,  op.  cit.  passim ; 
Thomson,  Savage  Island,  1902,  p.  98). 

It  should  be  observed  that,  where  there  are  definite  laws 
against  the  marriage  of  certain  persons,  the  breach  of  which 
would  be  incest,  these  persons  are  generally  tabu  and  must 
not  speak  to  each  other.  Similarly,  as  a  precaution  against 
adultery,  men's  wives  are  tabu  to  other  men,  who  must  not 
even  speak  to  or  touch  them  (cf.  Bastian,  Loango-Kiiste,  Jena, 
1874-76,  i.  168,  244). 

ii.  PRIVATE  CRIMES. — Among  private  crimes, 
those  of  murder,  adultery,  unchastity,  and  theft 
may  be  examined  here  in  detail.  Some  of  these, 
e.g.  adultery  and  unchastity,  tend  to  become  public 
crimes,  since  they  are  sometimes  believed  to  pro- 
duce evil  results  upon  the  whole  tribe  or  upon  its 
land — a  visitation  by  the  offended  spirits. 

(1)  Murder. — Tylor  has  pointed  out  that  'no 
known  tribe,  however  low  and  ferocious,  has  ever 
admitted  that  men  may  kill  one  another  indis- 
criminately '  [CM  xxi.  714).  This  statement  is 
supported  by  the  express  ideas  of  the  horror  of 
murder  entertained  by  many  even  of  the  lowest 
savages.  In  many  tribes,  murders  are  extremely 
rare,  and  are  felt  to  be  wrong.  But  generally  the 
feeling  of  abhorrence  is  restricted,  and  it  is  con- 
sidered a  harmless  or  even  praiseworthy  action  to 
kill  outside  the  limits  of  the  clan  or  tribe.  But  the 
limits  of  the  restriction  vary  considerably  among 
different  peoples.  Blood-revenge  for  murder  is  a 
duty  or  a  custom  insisted  upon  by  public  opinion 
in  most  savage  societies,  and  often  legally  per- 
mitted, while  it  is  probably  a  survival  of  the  time 
when  no  supreme  authority  existed  for  the  execu- 
tion of  justice.  Though  in  many  cases  the  relatives 
of  the  murderer  or  any  members  of  his  clan  or 
tribe  are  slain  in  revenge,  because  of  savage  man's 
idea  of  human  solidarity  and  of  the  collective  guilt 
of  the  murderer's  family,  clan,  tribe,  or  more  speci- 
fically because  of  the  working  of  the  lex  talionis 
(son  for  son,  daughter  for  daughter,  etc.),  and, 
though  the  custom  often  gives  rise  to  tribal  wars, 
yet  the  evidence  shows  that  the  revenge  is  directed 
in  the  first  place  most  frequently  upon  the  mur- 
derer himself.  Often  his  death  satisfies  the  desire 
for  vengeance,  and  it  is  only  where  it  has  been 
found  impossible  to  lay  hands  on  him  that  the 
vengeance  falls  on  another.  In  the  insistence  upon 
blood-revenge  as  a  sacred  and  moral  duty,  which  it 
is  disgraceful  and  irreligious  to  avoid  (sometimes 
because  the  dead  man's  ghost  finds  no  rest  till  the 
vengeance  falls),  and  in  its  falling  first  upon  the 
murderer,  we  see  exemplified  the  general  savage 
view  of  justice.1  Where  a  local  tribunal  exists,  it 
may  arrange  the  blood-feud  and  set  the  machinery 
in  motion,  or  it  may  go  further  and,  after  hearing 
the  respective  sides,  give  judgment  in  favour  of  the 
avenger,  and  appoint  execution  to  be  done,  some- 
times by  him  ;  or  it  may  try  to  arrange  a  compen- 
sation. But  only  where  it  is  strong  enough  will  its 
decisions  be  enforced  or  its  suggestions  be  heeded. 
This  action  of  the  local  tribunal  may  be  regarded 
in  the  light  of  a  compromise,  where  the  custom  of 
1  Other  occasional  causes  of  a .  hiood-feud  are  wounding, 
adultery,  seduction,  rape,  and  kidnapping  (cf.  Post,  1.  239), 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Primitive  and  Savage) 


255 


blood-feud  continues  after  the  rise  of  such  tribunals. 
It  is  thus  a  step  towards  justice  being  done  in  the 
case  of  private  wrongs.  The  progress  to  true 
justice  is  further  seen  where  the  central  authority 
steps  in  to  forbid  revenge,  to  decide  guilt,  and  to 
award  punishment.  Frequently  the  practice  of 
compensation,  the  wergeld,  takes  the  place  of  the 
blood-feud  or  is  even  obligatory,  the  relatives  being 
satisfied  with  the  payment  of  a  heavy  fine,  fixed 
according  to  rank,  sex,  age,  etc.  (cf.  Post,  i.  249  ff.). 
Where  the  acceptance  of  compensation  was  seen  to 
lessen  the  protracted  hostilities  in  the  case  of  the 
blood-feud,  it  would  be  fostered  by  custom  and 
authority ;  and  in  many  cases,  though  not  all,  its 
existence  may  be  traced  to  the  intervention  of  the 
central  authority,  the  elders  of  the  tribe,  or  the 
chief  (see  Blood-Feud). 

It  should  be  noted  that,  though  there  are  marked 
exceptions  to  the  rule,  infanticide  is  very  wide- 
spread and  meets  with  little  or  no  disapproval, 
while  the  killing  of  the  sick  and  aged,  not  out  of 
wantonness  but  for  certain  definite  reasons,  is  not 
uncommon  in  many  parts  of  the  world.  Similarly, 
though  by  no  means  generally,  it  is  often  the  case 
that  a  master  has  the  right  to  kill  his  slave  (Post, 
i.  373).  In  a  few  cases  infanticide  is  punished  with 
death  or  in  some  other  way,  or  is  regarded  as 
wrong  and  liable  to  bring  misfortune  ;  and,  where 
the  killing  of  aged  parents  for  the  specific  reasons 
referred  to  is  not  customary,  parricide,  when  it 
does  occur,  is  regarded  with  abhorrence,  and  is  at 
once  punished  (cf.  Westermarck,  i.  402 ff.,  386; 
Steinmetz,  op.  cit.  ii.  153  ff.). 

Where  blood-revenge  does  not  exist,  as  well  as 
in  many  cases  where  it  does,  the  murderer  is  pun- 
ished by  the  community,  or  by  some  special 
authority,  though  it  is  not  always  easy  to  dis- 
tinguish, from  the  statements  made,  between  true 
blood-revenge  and  the  administration  of  justice. 
In  most  cases  the  punishment  is  death. 

Among  the  Fuegians,  the  murderer  is  placed  under  a  ban, 
and  perishes  of  hunger,  or  death  is  inflicted  by  his  fellows 
(Hyades-Deniker,  Mission  scient.  du  Cap  Horn,  viii.  374,  243). 
Among  some  Australian  tribes,  as  has  been  seen,  the  council  of 
elders  arranges  the  avenging  party  in  cases  of  murder  by  sorcery. 
But,  as  among  the  tribes  of  N.W.  Central  Queensland,  the  camp 
or  a  council  of  the  camp  punishes  the  murderer  (Roth,  EthnoL 
Studies  among  the  N.  W.  C.  Queensland  Abor.,  1897,  pp.  139, 141). 
With  some  tribes  a  ceremony  of  spear-throwing  at  an  offender 
appears  to  take  the  place  of  the  blood-feud  proper  (Wester- 
marck, i.  171).  The  Eskimos  and  Aleuts  occasionally  make 
common  cause  against  a  murderer  and  put  him  to  death  (Nan- 
sen,  op.  cit.  p.  162 ;  cf.  Petroff,  op.  cit.  p.  152).  With  many  N. 
American  Indian  tribes  the  murderer  had  to  appear  before  the 
chiefs  for  trial,  but  he  was  often  handed  over  to  the  relatives  of 
his  victim  for  punishment  (Cooper,  Mishmee  Bills,  1873,  p.  238 ; 
Morgan,  League  of  the  Iroquois,  Rochester,  1851,  p.  330  ;  School- 
craft, Ind.  Tribes,  Philadelphia,  1851-60,  i.  277  ;  Adair,  Hist,  of 
Amer.  Ind.,  1775,  p.  150).  Many  African  tribes  also  inflict 
capital  punishment  on  the  murderer,  the  chief  frequently  de- 
ciding his  guilt  and  enforcing  the  sentence  (Westermarck,  i.  189  ; 
Letourneau,  pp.  80,  83-84  ;  Johnston,  op.  cit.  ii.  882  [murderer 
executed  by  warriors  among  the  Mutei]),  or,  as  among  the 
Mpongwe,  the  community  burn  or  drown  him  (Burton,  Two 
Trips  to  Gorilla  Land,  i.  105).  'Capital  punishment  for  murder 
is  also  found  in  Polynesia  and  New  Guinea  (Turner,  Samoa,  pp. 
178,  295,  334  ;  Thomson,  JAI  xxxi.  143  ;  Chalmers,  Pioneering 
in  N.G.,  1887,  p.  179).  In  other  cases,  banishment,  usually  fol- 
lowed by  death,  is  found,  or,  as  among  the  Omahas,  a  species  of 
boycotting  and  penitential  expiation  in  the  case  of  a  murderer 
whose  life  has  been  spared  (Dorsey,  in  S  RBEW,  1884,  p.  369). 
Or,  in  some  instances,  as  in  the  commutation  of  blood-revenge, 
a  fine  is  all  that  is  insisted  on  for  murder  (Shooter,  Kafirs  of 
Natal,  p.  103 ;  Casalis,  op.  cit.  p.  228 ;  Griffith,  JRASBe  vi. 
[1837)  332  [Mishmis,  offender  cut  to  pieces  if  fine  is  not  paid) ; 
Johnston,  op.  cit.  ii.  882  [Kamasias,  confiscation  of  goods  of 
murderer  and  his  relatives]).  This  fine  is  not  seldom  a  real 
commutation  of  blood-revenge,  and  the  composition  is  often 
recommended  or  expressly  insisted  on  by  the  central  authority. 
If  it  is  not  paid,  the  murderer  is  generally  put  to  death  (cf. 
Letourneau,  pp.  72,  80,  89,  95  ;  Elphinstone,  Kingdomof  Caubul, 
1839,  ii,  105;  Von  Martins,  Beit,  zur  Ethnog.  Amer.,  Leipzig, 
1867,  i.  130). 

The  vengeance  of  the  society  upon  the  murderer 
is  in  part  due  to  the  belief  that  he  is  a  source  of 
danger  to  the  group.  He  is  infected  with  the  tin- 
cleanness  of  death,  or  is  surrounded  by  spirits, 


especially  that  of  his  victim,  who  will  afflict  not 
only  him  but  others.  Hence  he  is  tabu,  and,  if  he 
is  not  put  to  death,  he  must  undergo  ceremonies  of 
purification,  or  be  isolated  from  his  fellows,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  Omahas  (see  above,  and  cf.  Kohler, 
ZVRW  xii.  [1897]  408;  Frazer,  GB2  i.  331  ff.). 
These  ceremonies,  or  the  period  of  isolation,  are 
then  a  species  of  punishment. 

In  some  cases  it  is  expressly  said  that  murder  ia 
punished  because  it  is  hated  by  a  Divine  being,  or 
is  a  breach  of  his  law.  This  is  the  case  among  the 
Omahas  (Dorsey,  loc.  cit.),  while  in  other  instances 
murderers  are  believed  to  be  punished  after  death 
(Australians  by  Baiame  [Parker,  op.  cit.  p.  79], 
Andaman  Islanders  [Man,  JAI  xii.  161-2],  Mela- 
nesians  [Codrington,  p.  273  ff.],  New  Hebrides 
[Turner,  Samoa,  p.  326],  Awemba  [Sheane,  JAI, 
xxxvi.  150 ff.],  American  Ind.  [above,  vol.  ii.  p.  685"]). 

(2)  A  dultery. — Since  in  all  savage  societies  the  wife 
is  regarded  as  the  property  of  her  husband,  adultery 
is  generally  a  serious  crime.  Before  betrothal  or 
marriage  the  woman  may  dispose  of  herself  as  she 
chooses,  though  here  the  father  or  guardian  has 
sometimes  the  right  of  controlling  her  action,  but 
after  marriage  her  husband  has  entire  right  over 
her.  Adultery  is  therefore  regarded  as  an  infringe- 
ment of  the  husband's  proprietary  right,  and  is 
frequently  a  serious  form  of  theft.  Add  to  this 
the  working  of  jealousy,  and  it  is  easy  to  under- 
stand why  to  the  savage  mind  adultery  is  so  serious 
an  offence  and  often  a  capital  crime.  In  many 
instances,  even  where  there  is  a  regular  tribunal, 
the  husband  and  those  whose  duty  it  is  to  help 
him  have  the  right  of  dealing  as  he  pleases  with 
the  culprits,  especially  if  he  catches  them  in  flag- 
rante delicto.  The  local  tribunal  and,  in  any  case, 
custom  and  opinion  justify  his  action,  and  often, 
indeed,  expect  him  to  avenge  himself.  He  may, 
however,  in  such  a  case  be  liable  to  hostilities  from 
the  relatives  of  the  wife  or  her  paramour  ;  and  in 
a  few  cases,  where  the  established  tribunal  is 
jealous  of  all  such  personal  action,  he  may  be 
punished  by  it,  especially  when  he  has  put  the 
woman  to  death  instead  of  inflicting  a  lighter 
punishment.  Or  he  may  appeal  to  the  tribunal, 
with  confidence  that  due  punishment  will  be  visited 
upon  the  offenders,  the  execution  of  this  punish- 
ment being  occasionally  allotted  to  him. 

The  punishment  of  death  not  only  for  adultery  but,  in  some 
cases,  for  slight  indiscretions  or  even  for  touching  a  wife,  especi- 
ally the  wife  of  a  chief  (Bastian,  op.  cit.  i.  244 ;  Post,  ii.  358 ; 
MacLennan,  Studies  in  Anc.  Hist.,  2nd  ser.,  1896,  p.  412),  is 
visited  upon  the  offending  wife  or  the  paramour  or  both,  either 
by  the  husband  or  by  a  legal  tribunal,  among  a  large  number  of 
peoples  (see  Adultery  [Primitive  and  Savage] ;  Westermarck, 
l.  290  ;  Post,  ii.  362,  371) ;  and  in  some  cases  adultery  is  the  only 
crime  which  is  capitally  punished  (Mishmis  [JRASBe  vi.  [1837] 
332]).  Occasionally  the  punishment  is  meted  out  to  the  wife 
only  after  repeated  offences  (Macdonald,  Africana,  i.  140).  In 
other  cases  the  seducer  has  to'  suffer  slavery,  mutilation, 
emasculation,  beating,  or  some  other  bodily  indignity ;  he  must 
submit  to  his  wife's  being  outraged  ;  or  he  must  pay  compensa- 
tion, usually  equal  to  the  value  of  the  woman,  to  the  injured 
husband  (Post,  li.  366-9,  373 ;  Letourneau,  pp.  20,  43,  65-66,  78, 
83,  95).  Similarly,  where  the  unfaithful  wife  is  not  put  to  death, 
Bhe  is  mutilated,  disfigured,  beaten  and  ill-treated,  enslaved, 
repudiated,  divorced,  or  prostituted  (Post,  ii.  364-5 ;  Letour- 
neau, pp.  37,  65,  66).  In  a  few  exceptional  cases  the  wife  is  not 
punished  (Westermarck,  Marr.  p.  122 ;  Post,  ii.  370).  These 
various  punishments  are  usually  inflicted  by  the  husband,  but 
occasionally  by  a  tribunal  or  by  the  chief.  Adultery  is  occa- 
sional^' the  cause  of  a  blood-feud  or  of  a  species  of  blood-revenge 
(du  Chaillu,  Equat.  Africa,  1861,  p.  51 ;  Letourneau,  p.  96). 

The  punishment  of  adultery  is  sometimes  in  proportion  to 
the  rank  of  the  offenders  or  of  the  husband  ;  or,  where  a  system 
of  fines  i9  in  use,  the  fine  is  similarly  proportioned  (Post,  Afr. 
Jur.  ii.  82-83 ;  Letourneau,  pp.  65-68 ;  Johnston,  op.  cit.  ii. 
590,  689;  Ellis,  Ewe-speaking  Peoples,  1890,  p.  202).  Generally, 
too,  adultery  with  a  chief  wife  is  more  severely  punished  than 
with  a  lesser  wife  or  concubine  (see  Concubinage). 

As  a  general  rule,  in  savage  societies  the  wife 
can  obtain  no  redress  for  the  husband's  axlaltery  ; 
but  there  are  occasionally  exceptions  to  this  even 
at  low  levels  (e.g.  with  some  Australian  tribes),  and 
the  husband  is  punished  more  or  less  severely,  ol 


256 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Primitive  and  Savage) 


his  adultery  (or  even  bringing  a  second  wife  or 
concubine  to  the  house)  is  a  ground  for  the  wife's 
divorcing  him  (see  Adultery  [Primitive  and 
Savage],  §  6 ;  Westermarek,  ii.  432 ;  Post,  Afr. 
Jur.  i.  465,  ii.  72). 

There  is  a  certain  amount  of  evidence  that 
among  savage  tribes  adultery  is  regarded  as  a 
grave  moral  offence,  which  may  bring  general 
calamity,  or  must  be  expiated,  or  which  is  offen- 
sive to  the  gods,  or  will  be  punished  in  the  next 
world  (see  art.  Adultery,  §  8 ;  Crawley,  op.  cit.  p. 
143  f. ;  Mason,  JRASBe  xxxvii.  [1868]  pt.  2,  147  ff. 
[Karens];  Westermarek,  ii.  675;  Perham,  JRAS 
Straits  branch,  no.  8,  p.  150  [Sea  Dayaks] ;  Man, 
JAI  xii.  157  [Andaman  Islanders] ;  Sheane,  JAI 
xxxvi.  150  ft".  [Awemba] ;  Codrington,  Melanesians, 
p.  273  ff.  ;  Jones,  Ojebway  Ind.,  1861,  p.  104). 

(3)  Unchastity. — Unchastity  before  marriage  is 
variously  regarded  among  savage  peoples.  In  some 
instances  a  girl  is  allowed  the  utmost  licence,  but 
in  many  quarters  unchastity  is  reprobated  more  or 
less  severely.  The  difference  in  attitude  doubtless 
involves  differing  moral  conceptions,  but  there  can 
be  little  doubt  that  much  is  due  to  the  question  of 
the  girl's  position.  If  she  has  been  betrothed  in 
early  years  to  a  prospective  husband,  she  is  ex- 
pected to  remain  chaste,  or  she  may  be  repudiated. 
Or,  again,  unchastity  is  held  to  lower  her  value  in 
her  father's  or  guardian's  opinion,  because  a  smaller 
bride-price  will  be  obtainable  for  her.  But,  as  the 
severity  of  the  punishments  shows,  unchastity  is 
frequently  regarded  as  a  moral  offence  even  among 
some  very  low  tribes  (see  Westermarek,  Marr, 
p.  61  ff.),  and  it  is  sometimes  thought  to  be  offen- 
sive to  the  higher  powers,  or  to  bring  misfortune  on 
the  tribe  or  the  crops.  Hence  it  must  be  expiated 
in  one  way  or  another,  as  well  as  punished  (St. 
John,  Forests  of  Far  East,  1863,  i.  63,  69  [Dayaks] ; 
Mason,  JASB  xxxvii.  2  [1868],  147  [Karens]; 
Frazer,  GB2  ii.  212  [Battas] ;  Bastian,  Indonesien, 
Berlin,  1884-99,  i.  144  [Ceram] ;  Reclus,  Prim.  Folk, 
London,  1891,  p.  52;  Post,  Afr.  Jur.  i.  460; 
Westermarek,  Marr.  p.  61  [Loango] ;  Casalis, 
Basutos,  p.  267). 

The  punishments  are  various,  and  may  be  inflicted  by  the 
house-father,  the  tribunal,  or  the  chief.  Sometimes  both 
seducer  and  seduced  are  put  to  death  (Post,  Afr.  Jur.  ii.  70 
[Marea,  Beni-Amer] ;  Cunningham,  Uganda,  1905,  p.  290 
[Baziba] ;  Johnston,  op.  cit.  ii.  747  [Kavirondo] ;  Dawson,  Aust. 
Abor.,  Melbourne,  1881,  p.  23  [W.  Victoria] ;  Post,  ii.  376  [Nias]). 
In  other  cases  the  girl  is  put  to  death  (Post,  ii.  376  [some 
Igorrote  tribes]),  or  she  is  banished  or  enslaved  (Westermarek, 
Marr.  p.  66  ff.  ;  Post,  Afr.  Jur.  ii.  72;  Cunningham,  op.  cit. 
p.  102  [Bakoki]  ;  Chanler,  Through  Jungle  and  Desert,  1896, 
p.  317  [Rendile  of  E.  Africa] ;  Post,  ii.  380  [some  Malay  tribes]), 
or  she  is  scourged  (Post,  Afr.  Jur.  ii.  71-72),  or  has  to  pay  a  fine 
to  the  chief  (Post,  ii.  380).  In  some  of  these  cases  the  seducer 
shares   the   punishment,  but  generally  he  has   to  pay  com- 

ftensation  or  a  fine,  usually  equivalent  to  the  value  of  the  girl 
her  bride-price  or  blood-price),  and  sometimes  much  heavier 
(Post,  ii.  375-6  ;  Westermarek,  ii.  425-6,  436).  In  some  instances 
he  must  also  marry  ths  girl,  and  often,  if  the  fine  is  not  forth- 
coming, be  is  enslaved.  Seduction  may  at  one  time  have  been 
a  common  cause  of  a  blood-feud,  later  compensated  for  by  fine, 
hut  occasionally  it  still  leads  to  a  feud  (Post,  Afr.  Jur.  i.  81). 

(4)  Theft. — Proprietary  rights  are  recognized  by 
all  savage  tribes,  most  of  whom  condemn  or  abhor 
theft,  while  all  of  them  punish  it  in.  one  way  or 
another.  The  thief  is  frequently  punished  by  the 
owner  of  the  stolen  property  (more  especially  when 
he  is  taken  red-handed) ;  and  in  such  cases  the 
latter  may  even  have  the  right  to  kill  him  or  en- 
slave him.  Or  he  may  force  him  to  restore  the 
stolen  goods  or  their  value,  and  sometimes  two, 
three,  or  more  times  their  value,  or  may  subject 
his  belongings  to  pillage.  Here,  generally,  custom 
has  arranged  a  system  of  regulated  composition. 
In  other  cases  the  thief  is  punished  by  the  tribunal, 
or  the  chief,  with  death,  enslavement,  banishment, 
mutilation,  or  beating  ;  or  he  is  forced  to  pay  a 
fine,  or  to  restore  the  goods  or  their  value.  In 
general,  the  higher  the  value  of  the  goods  stolen, 


the  heavier  the  punishment.  Stealing  such  things 
as  any  tribe  sets  much  store  by — cattle,  products 
of  the  field,  weapons,  and  the  like — is  usually 
severely  punished.  Sometimes  the  punishment 
depends  upon  the  place  from  which  the  theft  is 
made  (field,  garden,  or  house),  the  time  at  which 
it  occurs  (night  or  day),  or  whether  the  thief  is 
taken  in  the  act,  and  also  upon  the  social  position 
of  the  person  robbed  or  of  the  thief.  Usually,  too, 
the  punishment  increases  when  acts  of  theft  are 
repeated,  a  notorious  thief  being  usually  put  to 
death.  Where  a  system  of  fines  exists,  there  is 
generally  found  a  regular  scale  of  values  for  differ- 
ent things.  And,  when  a  fine  or  composition  is  not 
paid,  the  thief  is  often  killed,  enslaved,  or  pun- 
ished in  some  other  way.  But,  before  undergoing 
punishment,  the  prisoner's  guilt  or  innocence  may 
be  attested  by  oath  or  ordeal.  In  many  cases 
property  is  protected  by  tabus  involving  the  thief 
in  an  automatic  punishment  or  in  the  results  of  a 
curse.  Or,  again,  when  a  thief  cannot  be  found, 
resort  is  often  had  to  cursing  him,  a  god  being 
invoked  to  punish  him  (see  Westermarek,  ii.  63 ff.). 
In  some  instances  the  gods  are  said  to  abhor 
and  punish  theft  either  in  this  world  or  the  next 
(Andaman  Islanders  [Man,  JAI  xii.  161];  some 
Polynesian  and  Melanesian  tribes  [Turner,  Samoa, 
pp.  301,  326  ;  Codrington,  op.  cit.  p.  274 ;  Mac- 
donald,  Oceania,  p.  208] ;  some  American  Indian 
tribes  [above,  vol.  ii.  p.  685*  ;  Bossu,  Trav.  through 
Louisiana,  1771,  i.  256] ;  Dayaks  [Brooke,  Ten 
Years  in  Sarawak,  1866,  i.  55 ;  Perham,  op.  cit. 
p.  149]). 

The  thief  is  killed  when  taken  in  the  act,  by  the  Fuegians 
(King  and  Fitzroy,  Voyages,  1839,  ii.  180),  peoples  of  the  Malay 
Archipelago  (Westermarek,  ii.  8),  Maoris  (Moerenhout,  op.  cit. 
ii.  181),  some  African  tribes  (Westermarek,  i.  289,  ii.  13 ;  John- 
ston, ii.  591 ;  Post,  Afr.  Jur.  ii.  92-3) ;  or  he  is  enslaved  (Post, 
ib.  ii.  93).  Among  peoples  with  whom  capital  punishment  for 
various  kinds  of  theft  exists  are  some  Australian  tribes  (Letour- 
neau,  p.  28)  ;  tribes  of  the  Malay  Archipelago  (Javanese,  Alfura, 
Eataks,  Achinese,  etc.  [Post,  ii.  434  ;  Westermarek,  ii.  8]) ;  the 
Shans  (JAI  xxvi.  21) ;  American  Indian  tribes  (Post,  ii.  434 ; 
NR  ii.  658  ;  Petroff ,  op.  cit.  p.  152 ;  Harmon,  Voyages,  Andover, 
1820,  p.  348 ;  Von  Martius,  op.  cit.  i.  88) ;  Polynesian  and  Melan- 
esian tribes  (Westermarek,  ii.  9 ;  Post,  Anfdnge  des  Staats-  und 
Rcchtslebens,  Oldenburg,  1878,  p.  224;  Letourneau,  p.  54  f.); 
African  tribes  (Letourneau,  pp.  64,  67 ;  Westermarek,  ii.  12 ; 
Post,  ii.  88  f.).  Enslaving  or  banishment  (especially  in  cases  of 
repeated  theft)  is  the  punishment  among  the  Fantis,  Yolofs, 
Diagara,  and  other  African  tribes  (Post,  ii.  87;  Letourneau,  p. 
64),  the  Karens  (habitual  thieves  [Mason,  JASB  xxxvii.  2,  146]), 
tribes  of  the  Malay  Archipelago  (Westermarek,  ii.  8),  Maoris 
(Post,  Anfdnge,  p.  224),  some  Amer.  Ind.  tribes  (NR\  ii.  658 ; 
Dodge,  Our  Wild  Indians,  Hartford,  1882,  pp.  64,  79 ;  Dall, 
Alaska,  1870,  p.  382),  Mongols  (Post,  op.  cit.  p.  224).  Mutila- 
tions of  various  kinds  as  an  application  of  the  lex  talionis 
(cutting  off  fingers,  hands,  arms,  feet,  or  legs,  plucking  out  the 
eyes,  or  even  cutting  off  nose  or  ears,  and  castration)  are  found 
among  several  African  tribes  (Post,  Afr.  Jur.  ii.  81,  88,  90-92 ; 
Westermarek,  ii.  12),  peoples  of  the  Malay  Archipelago  (Wester- 
marek, ii.  8;  Post,  Anfdnge,  p.  223;  Riedel,  op.  cit.  p.  232), 
Ainus  (Batchelor,  Ainu  and  their  Folklore,  1901,  p.  285),  various 
Mongol  tribes  (Post,  op.  cit.  223),  Kamchadales,  some  Amer. 
Ind.  tribes  (Letourneau,  p.  19;  Post,  op.  cit.  p.  223),  and  in  Fiji 
(Williams,  Fiji,  p.  23).  Beating  or  flogging  occurs  among  the 
Brazilian  Indians  (Post,  op.  cit.  p.  222),  Kalmuks  (ib.  p.  222), 
and  some  African  tribes  (Post,  Afr.  Jur.  ii.  88,  91  f.). 

Probably  the  earliest  form  of  revenge  for  theft,  apart  from 
death,  was  retaliation  in  kind.  The  victim  of  the  theft  would 
either  pillage  the  thief  or  seek  to  recover  his  property.  Acts  of 
pillage  are  found  sporadically  sanctioned  by  public  opinion 
(Maoris  [Ellis,  iii.  126];  in  Malaysia  [Letourneau,  p.  75]);  but, 
where  these  occur,  they  may  be  in  default  of  restitution. 
Sometimes  simple  restitution  of  goods  suffices,  but  more  fre- 
quently this  accompanies  another  punishment  or  the  enforcing 
of  a  twofold  or  manifold  restitution  (Indians  of  Brazil  [Von 
Martius,  i.  88] ;  Amer.  Ind.  tribes— Wyandots  twofold  [1  REEW, 
1881,  p.  66] ;  Mayas  [NR  ii.  658] ;  Kirghiz  ninefold  [Georgi, 
Russia,  1780-83,  iii.  337] ;  Malay  Archipelago  twofold  or  more, 
sometimes  a  fine  [Westermarek,  ii.  8  ;  Post,  Anfdnge,  p.  218] ; 
African  tribes,  twice  to  ten  times  the  value  [Westermarek,  ii. 
12  ;  Post,  Afr.  Jur.  ii.  84,  86]).  Sometimes  confiscation  of  a 
thief's  whole  property  occurs  (Cunningham,  Uganda,  p.  304 ; 
Johnston,  ii.  882 ;  Post,  ii.  439).  Such  forms  of  compensation 
may  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  fine,  greater  or  less,  accord- 
ing to  the  magnitude  of  the  theft,  or  the  general  feeling  with 
regard  to  its  wickedness.  Sometimes  also  severe  punishments 
— death,  mutilation,  etc. — may  be  expiated  by  a  fine.  Among 
Australian  tribes  a  not  uncommon  method  is  that  the  thief  ia 
challenged  to  single  combat  by  his  victim. 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Assyro-Babylonian) 


267 


An  especially  vile  form  of  theft,  always  severely 
punished  when  it  occurred,  and  perhaps  to  be  re- 
garded as  a  form  of  sacrilege,  is  that  of  stealing 
offerings,  etc.,  from  a  grave  (Westermarck,  ii. 
518-9). 

7.  At  those  festivals  which  mark  the  beginning 
of  a  new  year  or  the  offering  of  firstfruits  among 
savages,  and  which  are  usually  accompanied  by 
ceremonial  confession  of  wrongdoing  and  by  ritual 
purifications  and  riddance  of  the  contagion  of 
wrong,  very  frequently  there  is  considerable  licence, 
and  such  crimes  as  may  be  then  committed  are  not 
afterwards  punished.  At  such  festivals  there  is 
great  excitement,  with  much  drinking,  dancing, 
etc.  Crimes  would  then  be  readily  committed, 
but  had  not  to  be  accounted  for,  because  they 
occurred  during  a  sacred  season,  while  their  con- 
tagion had  already  prospectively  been  got  rid  of, 
or  would  shortly  be  got  rid  of,  by  the  ceremonial 
purifications  usual  at  such  periods. 

Among  most  savage  tribes  the  right  of  asylum 
or  sanctuary  for  the  criminal  is  clearly  recognized, 
the  sanctuary  being  generally  a  place  sacred  to 
gods  or  spirits,  or  the  abode  of  sacred  persons 
(priest  or  chief),  in  which  it  would  be  dangerous 
for  the  avenger  or  the  executioner  of  justice  to 
shed  the  blood  even  of  a  criminal  (see  art.  ASYLUM  ; 
Post,  ii.  252  ff.). 

SUMMARY. — The  execution  of  justice  among 
savage  tribes  is,  on  the  whole,  an  extremely  rough 
and  ready  process.  Where  the  practice  of  private 
revenge  is  common,  it  militates  against  the  inde- 
pendent and  impartial  weighing  of  the  evidence 
by  a  disinterested  tribunal.  And,  even  where 
there  exists  a  recognized  tribunal,  it  generally 
lacks  the  most  elementary  requirements  for  the 
discovery  of  truth  as  found  in  a  civilized  court  of 
justice.  Impartiality  is  seldom  found,  the  weigh- 
ing of  evidence  and  the  reliance  upon  it  alone  being 
practically  unknown  ;  the  common  resort  to  ordeals 
is  an  extremely  defective  method  of  arriving  at  the 
truth ;  in  many  cases  not  only  does  the  guilty 
escape,  but,  where  he  is  punished,  the  innocent 
often  share  his  punishment.  Punishments,  too, 
are  often  extremely  severe.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  evidence  seems  to  show  that  there  is  a  general 
hatred  of  crime  among  savages,  and  that  it  is 
probably  of  comparatively  rare  occurrence  among 
many  tribes. 

Literature. — E.  Durkheim, '  Deux  lois  de  revolution  penale,' 
ASoc.  vol.  iv.,  Paris,  1901,  De  la  Division  du  travail  social,  do. 
1893;  L.  T.  Hobhouse,  Morals  in  Evolution.  London,  1906, 
vol.  i.  ch.  3 ;  C.  Letourneau,  L' Evolution  juridique  dans  les 
diverses  races  humaines.  Paris,  1891 ;  M.  Mauss,  '  La  Religion 
etles  origines  du  droit  penal,'  RHR,  vols,  xxxiv.  xxxv.,  Paris, 
1896-7 ;  A.  H.  Post,  Grundriss  der  ethnol.  Jurisprudenz, 
Oldenburg  and  Leipzig,  1894-5,  Afrikan.  Jurisprudenz,  do., 
1887 ;  S.  R.  Steinmetz,  Ethnol.  Studien  zur  ersten  Entwick- 
lung  der  Strafe,  Leyden  and  Leipzig,  1894  ;  E.  Westermarck, 
Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas,  London,  1900-8 ; 
ZVRW,  Stuttgart,  1878fl.  See  also  the  other  authorities  cited 
in  the  article.  J.  A.  MacCULLOCH. 

CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Assyro- 
Babylonian). — These  are  revealed  to  us  mainly  by 
the  Bab.  codes  of  laws,  of  which  three  have  been 
found — the  first  and  the  last,  fragments  only  ;  the 
second — that  of  Hammurabi — nearly  complete. 

I.  The  first  (the  earliest  known)  are  the  Sumerian 
laws,  of  which  examples  occur  in  the  7th  tablet  of 
the  Ulutinabi-Su  ('punctually')  series.  This  work 
contains  specimen-phrases  for  students  of  Sumero- 
Akkadian,  the  laws  being  among  the  legal  and 
other  phrases  which  the  student  had  to  learn. 
Though  the  tablet  dates  from  the  time  of  Ashur- 
banipal  (c.  650  B.C.),  there  is  no  doubt  as  to  the 
period  during  which  these  laws  and  their  penalties 
were  in  force ;  their  reproduction  in  the  contract- 
tablets  of  the  time  of  the  dynasty  to  which  Ham- 
murabi belonged  indicates  that  the  code  of  which 
they  formed  part  originated  previous  to  c.  2000  B.  C. 
vol.  iv. — 17 


The  language  in  which  they  are  written  (Sumerian) 
shows  that  they  were  drawn  up  during  the  Sum- 
erian period,  and  they  may,  therefore,  date  from 
3500  B.C.,  or  even  earlier.  The  crimes  or  misde- 
meanours referred  to  therein  are  not  serious,  and 
belong  rather  to  the  class  of  offences  against  morals 
than  to  really  criminal  acts.  Nevertheless,  they  are 
exceedingly  interesting,  and  are  of  considerable 
importance  in  that  they  contain  the  earliest  ordi- 
nances in  existence  concerning  punishment  for 
wrongdoing : 

'If  a  son  say  to  his  father,  "Thou  art  not  my  father,"  they 
may  shave  him,  put  him  in  fetters,  and  sell  him  for  silver.' 

4  If  a  son  say  to  his  mother,  "  Thou  art  not  my  mother,"  they 
may  shave  his  forehead,  lead  him  round  the  city,  and  drive  him 
forth  from  the  house.' 

'  If  a  wife  hate  her  husband,  and  say  to  him,  ' '  Thou  art  not 
my  husband,"  they  may  throw  her  into  the  river.' 

'  If  a  husband  say  to  his  wife,  "Thou  art  not  my  wife,"  he 
shall  pay  her  half  a  mana  of  silver.' 

'  If  a  man  hire  a  slave,  and  he  dies,  is  lost,  runs  away,  gets 
locked  up,  falls  ill,  he  shall  pay  as  his  hire  every  day  half  a 
measure  of  grain.' 

Though  the  above  laws  refer  only  to  adopted 
sons,  the  respect  for  foster-parents  which  the 
punishments  for  denial  of  them  imply  shows 
how  strong  the  feeling  of  the  Sumerians  was  in 
this  matter.  The  adopted  son  might  be  sold  as 
a  slave,  and  it  may  be  supposed  that  a  real  son 
would  have  been  treated  with  even  greater  severity. 
The  denial  of  a  foster-mother  brought  upon  the 
culprit  all  the  disadvantages  of  slavery,  as  is  im- 
plied by  the  shaving  of  his  forehead.  His  being 
taken  round  in  the  city  was  probably  for  the  pur- 
pose of  making  his  misdemeanour  known ;  and 
driving  him  forth  from  the  house  implied  his  being 
either  left  in  utter  destitution,  or  relegated  to  the 
position  of  a  slave. 

Inequality  in  the  status  of  the  husband  and  the 
wife  is  implied  by  the  differing  punishments  for 
the  same  or  similar  offences.  Divorcing  a  husband 
was  punishable  with  death,  but  the  divorcing  of  a 
wife  only  incurred  the  fine  of  half  a  mana  of  silver. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  women  had  fewer  rights 
than  men  in  ancient  Babylonia,  but  it  must  be 
admitted  that  they  are  not  altogether  their  equals 
even  now. 

The  last  law  of  the  five  shows  the  respect  paid 
to  property.  The  penalties  inflicted  are  rather  hard 
upon  the  hirer,  who  is  responsible  for  a  slave  whom 
he  has  hired,  even  if  a  misfortune  befalling  him  is 
not  due  in  any  way  to  the  fault  of  the  hirer.  Per- 
haps it  was  necessary — the  Sumerians  may  have 
been  (criminally)  careless  of  other  people's  property 
delivered  into  their  hands  ;  in  any  case,  if  the  hirer 
thought  the  conditions  too  severe,  he  could  easily 
stipulate,  on  hiring,  that  he  should  not  be  visited 
with  the  full  rigours  of  the  law  in  the  case  of  an 
accident  happening. 

2.  The  next  laws  in  chronological  order  with 
which  we  come  into  contact  are  those  drawn  up 
by  the  great  Babylonian  legislator,  Hammurabi, 
whose  code  is  now  preserved  in  the  Louvre  at 
Paris.  Here  we  have  a  list  of  crimes  and  punish- 
ments far  more  complete  than  any  which  the 
ancient  nations  of  the  East  preceding  the  Jews 
have  ever  handed  down. 

How  far  these  laws  were  regarded  as  binding  is 
doubtful — the  conditions  of  life  probably  changed 
from  time  to  time ;  and  it  is  unlikely  that  the 
same  ideas  regarding  penalties  and  punishments 
for  breaches  of  the  law  prevailed  in  Assyria  as  in 
Babylonia,  notwithstanding  that  the  Assyrians 
studied  those  old  Bab.  laws.  Perhaps  the  tablets 
of  the  Ulutindbi-Su  series,  like  many  another 
ancient  composition,  and  the  laws  of  Hammurabi 
himself,  were  kept  in  the  libraries  at  Nineveh, 
simply  because  they  were  ancient  and  venerable 
works,  useful  to  the  law-student.  Upon  this  point, 
however,  we  shall  be  better  able  to  judge  later  on. 


258 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Assyro-Babylonian) 


In  considering  such  a  matter  as  that  of  crimes 
and  punishments,  it  will  probably  be  admitted  that 
the  Babylonian  mind  was  not  trained  in  so  severe 
a  school  as  that  of  the  Roman  or  the  modern  legist. 
Moreover,  the  difference  in  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  the  East  and  the  West,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  question  of  period,  must  be  taken  into  con- 
sideration. Thus,  many  offences  against  morality 
and  decency  were  probably  not  thought  worthy  of 
punishment  by  the  Babylonians,  notwithstanding 
that  they  may  have  been  regarded  as  most  repre- 
hensible. Bigamy  was  not  a  punishable  offence, 
and  the  game-laws  were  probably  merely  rudi- 
mentary. Bribery  was  not  punishable,  except  when 
it  was  intended  thereby  to  pervert  the  ends  of 
justice. 

Nothing  is  said,  moreover,  concerning  bestiality, 
blasphemy,  breach  of  ritual,  drunkenness  (except, 
perhaps,  in  the  case  of  priestesses  and  devotees), 
lying  (though  we  know,  from  certain  texts — see 
Conscience  [Bab.],  above,  p.  33 — that  this  was  a 
thing  unpleasing  to  the  deity),  malice,  prophesying 
falsely,  the  desecration  of  holy  days,  speaking 
evil  of  rulers  (lise  majesti),  uncleanness,  usury, 
and  many  other  things  which  are  not  only  regarded 
as  crimes  or  misdemeanours  among  the  European 
nations,  but  also  appear  as  such  with  the  ancient 
Hebrews.  Idolatry,  magic,  sorcery,  intercourse 
with  demons  and  spirits,  and  prostitution  were 
naturally  not  counted  as  crimes ;  though  blas- 
phemy, sacrilege,  and  similar  offences  against  the 
gods  were  probably  severely  punished — certainly 
the  latter  (sacrilege).  Whether  blasphemy  was  a 
crime  or  not  probably  depended  upon  the  place 
and  the  deity,  for  none  would  speak  slightingly 
of  a  deity  in  the  place  where  he  was  worshipped, 
except  a  fanatic.1  It  is  to  be  noted,  however,  that 
nothing  certain  can  be  stated  with  regard  to  many 
acts  which  modern  Europeans  would  consider  as 
crimes  in  law,  for  the  simple  reason  that  we  have 
only  one  code  in  any  sense  complete,  namely,  that 
of  Hammurabi  (c.  2000  B.C. ),  and  even  that  has  gaps. 

The  death  penalty. — In  the  Code  of  Hammurabi, 
as  is  fitting,  respect  for  what  is  just  holds  the  first 
place,  and  the  penalty  for  false  accusation  of  killing 
is  death  (§  1).  In  the  case  of  a  (false)  accusation  of 
sorcery,  the  accused  person  had  to  dive  into  the 
river,  and,  if  the  river  refused  to  drown  him,  the 
accuser  suffered  the  penalty  of  death,  and  the 
accused  took  the  house  of  his  dead  defamer. 
Death,  in  fact,  was  the  penalty  of  any  false  accu- 
sation in  which  a  life  was  involved.  In  all  other 
cases,  a  false  witness  bore  the  cost  of  the  action 
(§§  2-4) 

Next  to  the  safety  and  integrity  of  the  person, 
that  of  the  property  of  a  man  was  held  to  be  the 
most  sacred.  Theft  was  not  generally  punished 
with  death,  unless  the  property  stolen  belonged  to 
a  temple  or  to  the  palace  (of  the  king),  in  which 
case  the  receiver  suffered  the  same  punishment 
(§  6).  In  later  times,  the  penalty  for  sacrilegious 
theft  (with  the  damage  inflicted  upon  the  images  of 
deities  by  stripping  them)  seems  to  have  been  death 
by  fire  (Pinches,  The  OT  in  the  Light,  etc.8,  p.  561). 

Strange,  however,  is  the  severity  of  the  law  (§  7) 
ordaining  death  for  buying  the  property  of  a 
man,  either  from  his  own  hands  or  from  those  of 
his  slave,  without  witnesses  or  contracts ;  or  for 
receiving  such  property  on  deposit.  Probably 
possession  of  a  man's  property  without  justifying 
documents   suggested  receiving   it   on  false  pre- 

1  In  all  probability  the  Word  sillatu,  when  applied  to  some- 
thing spoken  against  a  deity,  corresponded  with  'blasphemy,' 
as  we  understand  it.  The  followers  of  Sama§-§um-ukin  (Saos- 
duchinos),  Ashurbanipal's  brother,  who  uttered  sillatu  against 
the  god  ASSur,  were  put  to  death  after  their  lips  (var.  tongues) 
had  been  torn  away  (As^ur-bani-apli,  cyl.  A,  col.  iv.  66  ff.).  In 
another  passage,  referring  to  chiefs  of  Gambulu,  the  culprits 
were  flayed  after  the  tearing  out  of  their  tongues  (Q  Smith, 
Awurbanipal,  London,  1871,  pp.  137,  li  ff.). 


tences,  which  the  laws  of  the  Babylonians  evi- 
dently wished  to  discourage,  the  more  especially 
as  it  presupposed  the  neglect  of  those  legal  forms 
to  which  the  people  seem  to  have  paid  special 
attention. 

Though  theft  did  not  entail  the  death-penalty, 
the  neglect  or  failure  to  pay  fines  and  make  resti- 
tution transformed  it  into  a  capital  offence  (§  8). 
There  were  probably  two  reasons  for  this — the 
sacredness  of  property-rights,  and  respect  for  the 
law.  Theft,  with  the  sale  of  the  stolen  object,  was 
even  more  severely  punished,  as  the  penalty  was 
not  only  death,  but  the  restitution  of  the  property, 
in  addition,  to  both  parties  (the  owner,  and  the 
person  to  whom  the  property  had  been  sold),  the 
purchase-money  being  returned  in  full  (§  9).  It 
seems  not  improbable  that  a  purchaser  of  property 
sometimes  found  himself  in  serious  difficulty,  for, 
if  he  could  not  produce  the  seller  or  witnesses,  he 
was  regarded  as  a  thief,  and  was  executed  accord- 
ingly (§  10).  This  law  naturally  presupposes  that 
he  had  no  documentary  evidence  of  the  purchase. 
A  claimant  of  lost  property  had  likewise  to  be 
careful,  as  absence  of  witnesses  was  regarded  as 
proving  him  to  be  a  rogue  ;  and  the  penalty  in  that 
case,  again,  was  death,  because  he  had  falsely 
accused  the  person  claimed  from  (§  11). 

Housebreaking,  too,  entailed  the  death-penalty, 
probably  because  theft  was  regarded  as  being  in 
contemplation,  though  the  damage  to  the  house  was 
naturally  taken  into  consideration.  The  house- 
breaker was  killed  and  buried  in  front  of  the 
breach  (§  21) — an  undesirable  position  in  any 
country  where  the  dead  were  regarded  as  return- 
ing to  visit  the  living.  Brigandage  was  also  pun- 
ished with  death  (§  22).  Theft  at  a  house  where 
a  fire  had  broken  out,  under  the  pretence  of  enter- 
ing to  extinguish  it,  entailed  being  thrown  into 
the  flames  (§  25).  One  is  left  to  surmise  that  the 
thief  got  out  if  he  could. 

Offences  against  the  person  were  likewise  pun- 
ished severely.  Kidnapping  a  freeborn  child  was 
a  capital  offence  (§  14).  Negligence  which  proved 
fatal  to  any  person  was  punished  with  death  ;  and 
such  would  be  the  penalty  if  a  badly  built  house  fell 
on  the  occupier  and  killed  him  ;  the  builder  had 
constructed  a  defective  dwelling,  possibly  from 
motives  of  cupidity.  In  the  case  of  the  depend- 
ants of  the  owner,  the  lex  talionis  seems  to  have 
been  applied,  for  the  death  of  the  owner's  son  was 
punished  bv  the  death  of  the  builder's  son  (§§  229, 
230). 

The  position  of  slaves  as  a  man's  property  prob- 
ably had  greater  importance  than  any  respect  that 
may  have  been  regarded  as  due  to  their  persons, 
and  the  death-penalty  was  therefore  applied  in  the 
following  cases  :  allowing  a  palace  slave  or  serf  to 
escape,  or  sheltering  him  (§§  15,  16)  j  or  detaining 
an  escaped  slave  (§  19).  Evidently  it  was  regarded 
as  the  duty  of  a  citizen  to  restore  a  slave  to  his 
owner,  especially  if  that  slave  belonged  to  the 
palace.  Getting  a  barber  to  mark  a  slave  wrong- 
fully was,  it  seems,  equivalent  to  stealing  him 
(§  227),  and  was  punished  with  death  and  burial  in 
his  (the  wrongdoer's)  own  gate.  It  was  likewise  a 
serious  offence  if  a  soldier  (redd)  hired  a  substitute ; 
and,  besides  the  death-penalty  being  enforced,  the 
substitute  might  take  the  soldier's  house  (§  26) 
— apparently  the  dwelling  allotted  to  him  by  the 
State.  In  the  same  manner,  a  highly-placed  official 
could  neither  himself  hire  a  substitute,  nor  accept 
a  mercenary  as  substitute  (for  another),  and  incor- 
porate him,  the  penalty  being  death  in  both  cases. 

The  duties  of  a  '  wine-woman '  (meaning,  evid- 
ently, a  woman  keeping  a  public-house)  included 
assisting  the  government  by  capturing  criminals ; 
and,  if  she  failed  in  this,  she  also  met  with  tne 
penalty  of  death  (§  109). 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Asayro-Babylonian) 


269 


The  real  nature  of  these  wine-houses,  which  were 
kept  by  the  wine-women,  has  yet  to  be  discovered. 
That  they  were  places  of  evil  repute  seems  certain, 
and  a  devotee  not  dwelling  in  a  cloister  who  opened 
a  wine-house,  or  who  entered  a  wine-house  for 
drink,  was  burned  to  death1  (§  110).  It  seems  to 
have  been  the  duty  of  wine-women  to  accept  pay- 
ment for  their  drink  in  kind ;  and  any  such  woman 
refusing  to  do  this,  or  accepting  a  low  tariff,  might 
be  thrown  into  the  river  (§  108),  she  having  thereby 
contravened  the  law. 

Infidelity  and  incest  were  also  under  the  pain  of 
capital  punishment.  An  adulterous  woman  and 
her  paramour  were  to  be  tied  together  and  thrown 
into  the  water,  unless  pardoned  (apparently),  the 
former  by  her  husband,  and  the  latter  by  the  king 
(§  129).  Violation  of  a  virgin-wife  dwelling  with 
her  father  entailed  death  to  the  man,  but  exile  (?) 
to  the  woman  (§  130).  A  thriftless  woman  making 
her  poverty  an  excuse  for  marrying  again  during 
her  husband's  absence,  was  condemned  to  be  thrown 
into  the  water  (§  133) — the  punishment  meted  out 
to  a  disreputable  woman  who  repudiated  her  hus- 
band (§  143).  In  the  law  reports  (see  Ungnad, 
Hammurabi's  Gesetz,  iii.  nos.  1,  8  ;  iv.  776),  a  rebel- 
lious or  faithless  wife  was  thrown  down  from  the 
tower,  or  sold  into  slavery  (no.  7) ;  and  slavery  (as 
a  milk-maid  ?)  in  the  palace  was  the  punishment 
meted  out  in  such  a  case,  in  a  text  from  the 
Khabur  (Johns,  in  PSBA  xxix.  177 ;  Ungnad, 
op.  cit.  no.  5).  For  incest  with  a  son's  bride  the 
penalty  was  drowning  (§  155) ;  and  for  incest  with 
a  mother,2  death  by  fire  for  both  (§  157). 

Mutilation. — This  penalty  was  not  uncommon, 
and  in  some  cases  roughly  indicated  the  crime  by 
destroying  that  which  was  regarded  as  the  offend- 
ing member.  Thus,  if  the  son  of  a  chamberlain 
(palace-favourite)  or  of  a  public  woman  denied  his 
foster-parents,  his  tongue,  the  organ  with  which 
the  denial  was  made,  was  cut  out  (§  192).  In  the 
case  of  an  adopted  son  learning  who  his  real  father 
was,  despising  in  consequence  his  foster-parents, 
who  had  brought  him  up,  and  returning  to  his 
father's  house,  the  punishment  was  loss  of  an  eye 
(§  193).8  A  nurse  substituting,  without  the  know- 
ledge of  the  father  and  mother,  another  child  for 
one  who  had  died  whilst  in  her  care,  was  punished 
by  the  cutting  off  of  her  breasts,  thus  ensuring,  as 
in  most  punishments  of  this  nature,  that  the 
offence  should  not  occur  again  (§  194).  A  son 
striking  his  father  was  punished  by  the  loss  of  a 
hand — the  limb  with  which  the  offence  had  been 
committed  (§  195).  A  slave  striking  a  freeman's 
son  received  the  same  punishment  as  a  slave  deny- 
ing his  master,4  namely,  the  loss  of  an  ear — prob- 
ably as  a  mark  that  he  was  a  criminal,  and  a 
warning  that  he  was  untrustworthy  (§§  205,  282). 
As  we  have  seen  above  (p.  258a),  defamation,  when  it 
was  a  question  of  a  life,  was  a  capital  offence,  but  in 
other  cases  a  less  severe  punishment  was  decreed — 
thus,  if  a  man  '  raised  the  finger '  against  (accused 
of  unchastity)  a  priestess  or  a  married  woman,  the 
punishment  was  the  shaving  of  the  forehead — a 
proclamation  to  the  world  that  a  misdemeanour 
had  been  committed.  Priests  alone,  in  all  prob- 
ability, shaved  the  whole  of  the  head,  so  that 
there  was  no  danger  of  the  obliteration  of  the 
distinguishing  mark,  whilst  it  lasted. 

1  The  severity  of  the  penalty  would  seem  to  imply  that  un- 
chastity was  presumed  in  such  a  case. 

2  'After  the  father,'  apparently  =  'after  the  father's  death.' 
But  perhaps  '  step-mother  '  is  meant,  in  which  case  '  after  the 
consummation  of  the  marriage  '  may  be  intended. 

3  According  to  the  tablets  (Ungnad,  op.  cit.  iv.  nos.  14,  19),  an 
adopted  child  who  was  rebellious  was  sent  away,  or,  as  in  the 
Sumerian  laws  (see  p.  257b),  sold  into  slavery.  Ill-treatment 
of  an  adopted  child  entailed  loss  of  property  to  his  benefit  (ib. 
nos.  14,  16). 

*  A  slave-wife  denying  her  husband's  mother  was  marked  (by 
a  tonsure)  and  sold. 


Exceedingly  interesting,  and  among  the  laws 
which  have  attracted  the  most  attention,  are  those 
ordaining  retaliation.  Injury  involving  the  loss  of 
an  eye  entailed  the  loss  of  an  eye  to  the  person 
who  had  inflicted  the  injury,  and  it  was  the  same 
for  the  other  members  of  the  body — bone  for  bone 
(i.e.  broken  limb  for  broken  limb),  teeth  for  teeth 
(§§  196,  197,  200). 

Fines,  with  alternatives  (mutilations,  etc.). — 
Whether  these  punishments  could  be  compensated 
for  by  a  money-payment,  or  in  any  other  way,  is 
not  stated.  In  each  case,  however,  they  refer  to  a 
freeman  injuring  a  person  of  his  own  rank ;  but 
a  freeman  committing  the  same  offence  against  a 
man  of  inferior  rank  got  off  by  paying  a  fine  (1 
mana  for  the  limb  or  the  eye  of  a  serf  ;  and  J  mana 
for  the  teeth,  with  lesser  indemnities  in  the  case  of 
a  slave).  For  striking  a  man  of  equal  rank  on  the 
head,  also,  the  lex  talionis  did  not  apply,  but  a  fine 
of  1  mana  of  silver  was  inflicted.  If  the  man 
struck  was  of  superior  rank,  the  striker  received 
60  lashes  '  in  the  assembly'  with  an  ox-hide  whip 
(§  202).  A  serf  striking  a  serf  paid  10  shekels  of 
silver  (§  204),  but  a  slave  striking  the  head  of  a 
freeman  lost  his  ear  (§  205).  Thus  were  intentional 
injuries  atoned  for. 

For  unintentional  injury,  even  in  a  quarrel, 
things  were  different.  In  such  a  case,  a  freeman 
hurting  another  had  only  to  swear  that  he  had  not 
struck  him  knowingly,  and  was  then  responsible 
only  for  the  physician's  fees  (§  206) ;  and,  if  death 
ensued,  he  made  amends  by  paying  J  mana  of 
silver,  and  for  the  son  of  a  serf  &  only  (§§  207,  208). 
Striking  a  freeman's  daughter,  so  that  she  lost  her 
expected  offspring,  entailed  a  fine  of  only  10  shekels 
of  silver  (§  209),  and,  if  the  woman  died,  they 
killed  the  smiter's  daughter.  The  punishment  of 
the  culprit  was  in  such  a  case  a  sore  affliction, 
calculated  to  sadden  him  for  the  rest  of  his  days, 
but  here,  as  in  other  cases,  the  innocent  suffered 
for  the  guilty  simply  because  the  Babylonians 
would  not  admit  that  a  woman  was  the  equal  of  a 
man,  and  said  that,  whatever  the  sex,  the  penalty 
must  be  '  a  life  for  a  life.'  Striking  a  slave- woman 
with  the  same  serious  result  entailed  a  fine  of  2 
shekels  of  silver,  and,  if  she  died,  J  mana  (§§213, 214). 
In  this  case  it  was  not  'slave  for  slave,'  probably 
because  the  expected  offspring  had  to  be  allowed 
for,  the  fine,  it  appears,  being  more  than  the  value 
of  a  slave. 

Among  the  worst  examples  of  the  mutilation- 
penalty,  however,  are  those  quoted  by  Ungnad 
(op.  cit.  iv.  63,  no.  1049),  where,  if  certain  people 
bring  action  against  each  other,  their  noses  are 
to  be  pierced  and  their  hands  dislocated,  and  in 
this  condition  they  are  to  go  to  the  market-place 
at  Sippar.  In  another  case  (ib.  no.  1051)  the  hair 
of  the  forehead  was  to  be  shaved  on  account  of 
bringing  an  action,  the  alternative  being  a  fine  (no. 
1050).  An  attempt  to  rescind,  by  legal  action,  the 
gift  of  the  king,  entailed  a  fine  of  10  shekels  of 
silver,  and  covering  the  claimant's  head  with  hot  (?) 
bitumen  (ib.  vol.  iii.  no.  458).  This  last  text  comes 
from  the  independent  State  of  IJana  (Thureau- 
Dangin,  RA  iv.  17).  The  punishment  for  false 
witness  was  a  fine  of  2  shekels  of  silver  (Ungnad, 
iii.  no.  699),  and  shaving  of  the  forehead  (ib.  707). 

The  lex  talionis  also  existed  for  injuries  in- 
flicted unintentionally  in  the  course  of  professional 
(surgical)  attendance.  For  death  or  loss  of  sight 
after  an  operation  for  a  grave  injury  or  for  a 
cataract  (?),  the  penalty  was  loss  of  the  hands— the 
same  as  for  a  son  striking  his  father,  the  object  in 
both  cases  being  the  same,  namely,  to  prevent  a 
repetition  of  the  misfortune  (§  218).  A  serf's  slave 
having  been  treated  for  a  grave  injury,  and  dying 
under  the  operation,  the  penalty  was  restitution 
1  (' slave  like  slave')  (§  219).     If  the  slave  lost  an  eye 


260 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Buddhist) 


after  an  operation,  the  physician  had  to  pay  the 
owner  half  his  value  in  silver.  A  veterinary 
surgeon  who  had  operated  upon  an  ox  or  an  ass, 
which  had  died  thereafter,  paid  to  the  owner  a 
quarter  of  its  value  (§  225).  The  '  crime,'  in  these 
cases,  was  want  of  skill  or  judgment,  and  the 
penalties  were  probably  as  near  as  the  framers  of 
the  Code  could  get  to  the  '  just  mean '  in  each  case, 
for  the  slave  or  the  animal  might  have  been  of 
greater  or  less  value,  taking  the  injury  into  consider- 
ation, but  the  penalty  was  the  same.1  In  the  case 
of  a  man  hiring  an  ox,  and  causing  its  death  by 
negligence  or  by  blows,  the  penalty  was  ox  for  ox 
(§  245),  and  the  same  penalty  was  imposed  if  he 
had  broken  its  foot  or  cut  its  nape,  thus  rendering 
the  animal  useless  (§  246).  Destroying  the  eye  of  a 
hired  ox  entailed  an  indemnity  of  half  its  value  in 
silver  (§  247) ;  and  breaking  off  its  horn,  cutting  off 
its  tail,  or  piercing  its  nostril  was  made  good  only 
by  paying  a  quarter  of  the  animal's  value  (§  248). 
'Act  of  God'  left  the  hirer  free  from  obligation 
(§  249). 

Though  not  a  crime,  an  accident  which  brought 
an  owner  within  the  purview  of  the  law  arose  from 
injury  by  a  mad  bull.  On  the  first  occasion,  in 
which  the  bull's  viciousness  could  not  be  known, 
there  was  no  penalty  (§  250) ;  but  the  death  of  a 
man  by  a  known  vicious  bull,  horned  and  at  large, 
entailed  a  penalty  of  J  mana  of  silver  (§  251),  and 
i  mana  if  the  person  killed  was  a  slave  (§  152). 

In  certain  cases  (see  above,  p.  258b)  the  punish- 
ment for  theft  or  dishonest  dealing  was  death,  but 
the  case  of  an  employe  differed.  Thus,  if  a  man 
hired  to  do  the  work  of  a  farm  stole  the  wheat  and 
the  vegetables,  and  these  things  were  found  in 
his  hands,  his  hands  were  cut  off  (§  253).  Here 
again,  we  seem  to  have  an  instance  of  vengeance 
against  the  offending  members  ;  for  he  who,  instead 
of  working  for  the  benefit  of  his  employer,  used 
his  hands  to  rob  him,  was  accounted  worthy  of  this 
mutilation.  In  one  case  not  very  clear  in  the  Code, 
the  person  who  took  away  necessary  things  and 
weakened  the  oxen  had  to  make  up  the  damage  he 
had  caused  (§  254) ;  and  in  another,  if  he  lent  out 
the  oxen  or  stole  the  grain,  so  that  he  was  unable 
to  cultivate  it,  he  had  to  pay  60  gur  for  every 
gan  of  ground  left  uncultivated  (§  255).  It  seems 
strange  that  a  thief,  in  such  a  case  as  this,  should 
be  let  off  so  easily,  but  it  was  the  same  for  other 
things — a  man  stealing  a  watering-machine  paid 
5  shekels  of  silver,  and  the  theft  of  a  shadouf  or  a 
plough  entailed  an  indemnity  of  3  shekels  (§§259, 
260).  The  question  naturally  arises  whether,  in 
this  inscription,  the  verb  Saraqu  has  always  the 
meaning  of  '  to  steal.'  A  herdsman  was  under  the 
same  liability  as  the  farmer — if  a  man,  duly  in 
receipt  of  a  salary,  reduced  the  oxen  or  the  sheep, 
or  their  natural  increase,  he  had  to  make  up  the 
amount  (§  264) ;  and,  if  he  changed  their  natural 
increase,  or  sold  it,  the  penalty  was  that  he  made 
up  the  amount  to  the  owner  tenfold  (§  265). 

Deprivation  of  office. — Apparently  only  one  kind 
of  misdeed  entailing  this  is  referred  to  in  Ham- 
murabi's Code,  and,  as  is  fitting,  it  bears  upon  the 
administration  of  justice.  If  a  judge  changed  a 
sentence,  thus  making  it  to  be  of  no  effect,  he  was 
punished  with  twelvefold  restitution  of  the  sum 
involved  in  the  lawsuit.2  In  addition  to  this,  he 
was  dismissed  from  the  justice-seat,  never  to  re- 
turn ;  nor  was  he  to  sit  with  other  judges  when 
trying  a  case  (§  5). 

Imprisonment. — It  is  noteworthy  that,  in  all  the 
enactments  of  the  Code  of  Hammurabi,  there  is  no 
mention  of  imprisonment.     The  Babylonians,  how- 

1  Such  are  the  disadvantages  of  the  cut-and-dried  legislation 
of  a  code. 

2  Twelvefold  restitution  is  frequently  referred  to  in  contracts 
of  late  date,  but  this  is  for  changing  the  record,  and  is  not  con- 
fined to  the  judges. 


ever,  certainly  had  prisons,  as  the  expressions  bit 
sibitti  and  bit  kili,  and  the  fact  that  arrests  were 
ordered  by  the  king,  show.1  In  all  probability, 
however,  they  were  not  houses  of  detention  as  a 
punishment,  but  simply  places  where  an  accused 
person  or  a  criminal  could  be  confined  until  tried 
or  punished.  An  interesting  text  referring  to  this 
is  printed  in  Cun.  Texts,  vi.  pi.  8  (Ungnad,  op  cit. 
iii.  no.  743),  in  which  a  man  speaks  of  being  placed 
in  bit  drarri  by  his  judges,  whose  names  he  gives. 
He  states  that  he  was  not  to  be  released  until 
he  had  fulfilled  a  certain  order — probably  the 
delivery  of  a  document,  but  the  details  are  not 
clear. 

Possibly  imprisonment  was  more  common  in 
later  times  than  at  the  early  period  of  Hammu- 
rabi's dynasty.  A  letter  published  in  Eecueil  des 
Travaux,  xix.  107-108  (82-3-23,  845),  asks  :  '  Why 
takest  thou  my  child  and  placest  him  in  the  prison- 
house  {bit  kili)  ?  None  shall  take  him,  and  thou 
must  bring  him  forth  (again).  Send  my  son 
quickly.'  Confinement  was  also  effected  in  a  man's 
own  house :  '  Shut  up  Arad-Bau  (who  sits  in  the 
city-gate  of  Hadad)  in  his  own  house  with  the 
men'  (Pinches,  Outline  of  Assyr.  Gram.,  1910, 
p.  ii).  The  reason  of  this  order  is  not  stated,  but 
something  of  the  nature  of  a  revolt  or  conspiracy 
may  be  suggested. 

Resistance  to  Assyrian  dominion  entailed  all 
kinds  of  horrors,  and,  though  the  Assyrian  king 
may  have  regarded  such  resistance  as  among  the 
worst  of  misdeeds,  and  worthy  of  all  the  pains  and 
tortures  which  he  inflicted,  it  hardly  comes  within 
the  scope  of  the  present  article.  Nevertheless, 
there  is  one  noteworthy  instance  of  punishment  for 
what  might  be  described  as  a  crime,  though  those 
who  suffered  for  it  were  only  obeying  their  king's 
orders.  Certain  Elamite  magnates  had  been  sent 
by  Te-umman,  the  king,  to  Ashurbanipal,  king  of 
Assyria,  asking  for  the  delivery  of  certain  fugitives. 
The  message  was  an  insolent 2  one  (Hpir  merihti), 
and  the  Assyrian  king  had  the  ambassadors  de- 
tained. It  seems  not  improbable  that  Te-umman 
made  preparations  to  invade  Assyria  before  the 
return  of  his  ambassadors  on  the  occasion  of  their 
final  visit  to  Assyria  ;  so,  after  the  defeat  and  de- 
capitation of  Te-umman,  they  were  shown  his  cut- 
oft'  head,  the  sight  of  which  is  said  to  have  driven 
them  mad.  The  success  of  the  Assyrian  arms  had 
such  an  effect  on  Rusa,  king  of  Ararat,  that  he 
sent  ambassadors  to  Arbela  to  greetjAshurbanipal, 
who  showed  them  the  bodies  of  the  Elamite  am- 
bassadors with  the  '  insolent  message '  which  they 
had  brought. 

Literature. — V.  Scheil,  'Code  des  lois  de  Hammourabi,'  in 
M6m.  de  la  dUigation  en  Perse,  iv.,  Paris,  1902  ;  R.  F.  Harper, 
The  Code  of  Hammxirabi,  Chicago,  1904  ;  Pinches,  The  OT  in 
the  Light,  etc.3,  London,  1908,  pp.  174, 175-177, 185, 48S-525, 501 ; 
and,  esp.  Peiser,  Kohler,  and  vngns.d^JIammura.bi's  Gesetz, 


Leipzig,  1904-1910. 


T.  G.  Pinches. 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Bud- 
dhist).— Crimes  are  for  the  most  part  committed 
by  irreligious  people  ;  and  the  punishments  are 
determined  upon  and  carried  out  (even  under 
hierarchies  like  Rome  and  Tibet)  from  political 

1  The  British  Museum  tablet  D.T.  1,  generally  called  '  Warn- 
ings to  kings  against  injustice'  (WAX  iv.2  pi.  48),  which 
refers  to  certain  penalties,  is  rather  a  tablet  of  rewards  and 
punishments,  mostly  referring  to  the  rulers  of  the  land ;  but 
it  is  unfortunately  not  clear  in  every  part.  Among  other 
maxims  given  it  is  stated  that  a  king's  ill-favour  towards  his 
princes  or  his  burghers  was  likely  to  entail  in  the  one  case  an 
untimely  end,  and  in  the  other  rebellion.  It  is  interesting, 
however,  on  account  of  its  references  to  imprisonment :  '  Th« 
son  of  Nippur,  Sippar,  Babylon,  committing  wrong,  is  caused 
to  enter  the  prison-house — where  the  wrong  has  been  done,  the 
town  shall  pour  out  (?  supply  provisions)  to  the  fortress  (?).' 
'  The  sons  of  Sippar,  Nippur,  and  Babylon,  giving  their  provi- 
sions to  the  stallions,  ate  the  stallions  for  their  provisions— 
they  were  delivered  into  the  custody  of  the  foe,'  etc. 

2  '  Treacherous '  seems  also  to  be  a  possible  rendering. 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Celtic) 


261 


or  legal,  rather  than  from  religious,  motives.  It 
is,  therefore,  a  complicated  problem  to  decide  how 
far  a  religion,  dominant  at  any  time  in  a  country, 
is  or  is  not  an  important  factor  either  in  deciding 
what  acts  shall  be  called  crimes,  or  in  determining 
the  punishments  for  them.  This  is  so  even  when 
the  facts  are  known  and  classified  ;  and  no  attempt 
has  yet  been  made  to  write  the  history  either  of 
crime  or  of  its  punishment  in  any  Buddhist  country. 
The  following  remarks  must,  therefore,  be  tenta- 
tive and  imperfect.  It  will  be  convenient  to  dis- 
cuss the  subject  (1)  as  regards  the  Order,  and  (2) 
as  regards  the  laity. 

I.  The  Order. — The  standard  text-book  of  Canon 
Law  consists  of  the  ancient  Rules  of  the  Order,  as 
current  in  the  time  of  the  Buddha  (see  '  Pati- 
mokkha,'  in  art.  LITERATURE  [Buddh.]),  edited, 
about  fifty  years  after  his  death,  with  notes  and  a 
commentary,  and  accompanied  by  twenty  supple- 
mentary chapters.  These  additions  by  the  editors 
show  the  development  that  had  taken  place,  during 
that  interval,  in  the  interpretation  of  the  Rules 
themselves  as  well  as  in  the  method  of  enforc- 
ing them.  Of  the  227  Rules,  more  than  200 
relate  to  matters  of  deportment,  to  the  common 
property  of  the  Order  and  the  proportion  allowed 
to  each  member,  to  the  time  and  manner  of  taking 
food,  and  so  on.  The  penalty  for  any  infraction 
of  these  minor  regulations  was  repentance ;  that 
is,  the  offender  had  to  confess  his  fault  to  a  brother 
bhikkhu,  and  promise  not  to  repeat  it.  This  penalty 
involved  forfeiture  of  any  property  held  contrary 
to  the  regulations. 

The  major  offences  were  divided  into  two  classes 
— parajika  and  samghadisesa.  The  former  class 
comprised  four  crimes — the  sexual  act,  theft, 
murder,  and  putting  forward  a  false  claim  to 
religious  insight.  The  penalty  was  expulsion 
from  the  Order,  or,  to  use  the  words  of  the  Rules, 
'  he  has  fallen  into  defeat,  he  is  no  longer  in 
communion.' 1  The  notes  and  supplements  discuss 
cases  raising  the  point  whether  some  act  does  or 
does  not  amount  to  an  infringement  of  one  or 
other  of  these  four  Rules.  The  cases  put  are 
ingenious,  and  the  decisions  harmonize  in  a  re- 
markable way  with  the  equitable  views  of  modern 
writers  on  criminal  law. 

The  second  of  the  above  two  classes  comprises 
five  offences  depending  on  or  inciting  to  sensual 
impurity  ;  two  connected  with  building  a  residence 
without  obtaining  the  approval  of  the  Order  ;  two 
with  slander  ;  two  with  stirring  up  discord  in  the 
Order ;  one  with  intractability ;  and  one  with 
general  evil  life  (being  a  disorderly  person).  The 
penalty  for  these  offences  was  suspension  for  as 
many  days  as  had  elapsed  between  the  offence  and 
its  confession.  A  suspended  member  of  the  Order 
is  under  disability  in  regard  to  94  privileges  of  an 
ordinary  member — he  is  to  take  the  worst  seat  or 
sleeping-place,  cannot  sit  on  a  Chapter,  cannot 
travel  without  restriction,  and  so  on.2  When  the 
fixed  number  of  days  has  passed,  the  suspended 
bhikkhu  may  be  rehabilitated.  Both  suspension 
and  rehabilitation  can  be  carried  out  only  at  a 
formal  Chapter,  where  not  fewer  than  twenty 
regular  bhikkhus  must  be  present.  There  are  some- 
what complicated  rules  to  ensure  the  regularity  of 
the  proceedings,  the  equity  of  the  decision,  and 
opportunity  for  the  putting  forward  of  the  de- 
fence. These  are  too  long  even  to  summarize. 
We  must  be  content  to  note  that,  for  instance, 
the  rules  as  to  the  constitution  of  the  court  are 
given  in  Vinaya  Texts,  ii.  263  ff.,  iii.  46  ;  those  as 
to  the  accusation  being  invalid,  unless  brought 
forward  under  the  right  heading,  in  ii.  276  ff.; 
those  as  to  both  parties  being  present,  in  iii.  47. 

1  Vinaya  Texts,  i.  4  f. 

2  The  whole  of  the  94  are  (riven  in  Vinaya  Texts,  ii.  386  ff. 


Every  member  of  the  Order  resident  in  the  locality 
had  the  right  to  attend  such  a  Chapter  ;  and,  if 
the  matter  were  too  complicated  to  be  adequately 
considered  in  so  large  a  meeting,  it  could  be  re- 
ferred to  a  committee  of  arbitrators  chosen  by  the 
Chapter  (ii.  iii.  49  if). 

The  above  are  rules  and  practices  evolved  by  the 
early  Buddhists,  for  use  among  themselves  only  ; 
they  do  not  give,  or  pretend  to  give,  any  adequate 
treatment  of  the  question  of  crimes,  or  of  that  of 
punishments,  but  they  show  that  the  early  Bud- 
dhists had  a  very  fair  grasp  of  the  general  prin- 
ciples underlying  the  equitable  administration  of 
criminal  law,  and  that  in  the  matter  of  punish- 
ment they  took,  as  might  be  expected,  a  lenient 
view.  They  show  also  that,  at  the  time  when 
Buddhism  arose,  such  crimes  as  murder  and  theft 
were  no  longer  looked  upon  as  offences  against 
individuals  only,  but  had  already  come  to  be  con- 
sidered as  offences  against  the  community,  as 
moral  offences  in  themselves — in  other  words,  that 
this  step  forward  in  the  treatment  of  crime  was 
not  in  any  way  due  to  Buddhism,  but  was  the 
outcome  of  Indian  civilization. 

2.  Laity. — The  Buddhist  scriptures  frequently 
refer  to  their  ideal  of  a  perfect  king,  a  righteous 
king  who  rules  in  righteousness,  without  punish- 
ment, and  without  a  sword  (adandena  asatthena). 
In  the  Kiitadanta,1  King  Wide-realm's  country  is 
harassed  by  dacoits,  who  pillage  the  villages  and 
townships  and  make  the  roads  unsafe.  He  thinks 
to  suppress  the  evil  by  degradation,  banishment, 
fines,  bonds,  and  death,  but  his  Buddhist  adviser 
tells  him  that  there  is  only  one  method  of  putting 
an  end  to  the  disorder,  that  is,  by  providing 
farmers  with  food  and  seed-corn,  traders  with 
capital,  and  government  officials  with  good  wages. 
If  this  method  be  adopted,  '  the  king's  revenue 
will  go  up  ;  the  country  will  be  quiet  and  at  peace ; 
and  the  people,  pleased  with  one  another  and 
happy,  dancing  their  children  in  their  arms,  will 
dwell  with  open  doors.'  In  the  legend  the  plan 
succeeds  ;  and  it  represents,  no  doubt,  fairly  accu- 
rately, the  Buddhist  vague  ideal  of  the  right 
theory  of  crime  and  punishment.  In  the  Buddhist 
historical  chronicles  we  have  no  instance  of  its 
having  been  realized.  Crime  and  its  punishment 
have  been  dealt  with  according  to  the  views  cur- 
rent at  each  time  and  place,  and  it  would  be  im- 
possible, with  our  present  evidences,  to  attempt 
any  statement  as  to  whether,  and  in  what  degree, 
those  views  have  been  modified  by  the  Buddhist 
ideal. 

Literature. — Vinaya,  ed.  H.  Oldenberg,  London,  1879-83 ; 
Rhys  Davids  and  H.  Oldenberg,  Vinaya  Texts  (SBE,  vols. 
xii.,  xvii.,  xx.),  Oxford,  1881-85 ;  Rhys  Davids,  Dialogues  of 
the  Buddha,  Oxford,  1899.  T.  W.  RHYS  DAVIDS. 

CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Celtic).— 
I.  The  treatment  of  crime  and  of  criminals  among 
the  ancient  Celts  is  wrapped  in  great  obscurity. 
Caesar  {de  Bell.  Gall.  vi.  13)  informs  us  that  the 
Druids  of  Gaul  were  judges  in  both  public  and 
private  disputes,  and  that  they  awarded  damages 
and  penalties ;  and  we  are  told  (ib.  vi.  16)  that, 
when  human  sacrifices  were  offered,  criminals  were 
sacrificed  in  the  first  instance,  before  recourse  was 
had  to  innocent  victims.  It  is  not  improbable, 
therefore,  that  among  the  Celts,  as  among  the 
Greeks,  Romans,  and  other  races,  the  idea  pre- 
vailed that  certain  forms  of  conduct  were  dis- 
pleasing to  the  gods,  and  that,  in  consequence, 
communion  with  deity  could  not  be  re-established 
without  the  purification  of  society  by  the  death  or 
expulsion  of  the  persons  who  were  guilty  of  such 
conduct  (see  Communion  with  Deity  [Celtic], 
vol.  iii.  p.  749).      In  this   treatment  of    its  un- 

1  Ditjha,  i.  135  ;  tr.  in  the  present  writer's  Dialogues  of  tho 
Buddha,  i.  175  f. 


262 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Celtic) 


desirable  members  by  the  community  it  is  prob- 
able that  attention  was  paid  to  the  general  type 
of  character  no  less  than  to  specific  acts  of  wrong 
conduct,  just  as,  in  the  process  of  compurgation 
by  oath  in  Welsh  law  (see  below),  the  witnesses 
who  were  called  to  testify  on  oath  gave  evidence 
quite  as  much  to  the  general  character  of  the 
accused  as  to  his  non-performance  of  a  particular 
act.  The  types  of  character  which  are  always 
abhorred  by  communities  where  custom  rules,  as 
it  did  among  the  Celts,  are  those  which  are  in- 
different to  the  observance  of  customary  prohibi- 
tions (in  Homeric  language  those  of  men  lacking 
in  aidiis),  such  being  conspicuous  by  their  want  of 
scruple  and  by  the  quality  of  iifipis.  One  of  the 
Celtic  roots  for  'good'  (Ir.  deck,  Welsh  de  [now 
obsolete],  cognate  with  Gr.  S^x<¥""),  meant  '  ac- 
ceptable ' ;  and  the  other  Celtic  terms  relating  to 
character  show  the  prevalence  among  the  Celts 
of  the  same  moral  conceptions  as  among  other 
men  of  Indo-European  speech.  The  idea  of  a 
defilement  attaching  to  crime  is  found  in  a  state- 
ment made  in  the  Ancient  Laws  of  Ireland  (iii.  97), 
that  body  and  soul  are  both  defiled  by  committing 
crimes. 

2.  Side  by  side  with  the  penalty  of  sacrifice,  and 
probably  connected  with  it,  was  that  of  exclusion 
from  participation  in  religious  rites.  Caesar  (vi.  13) 
tells  us  that  any  contumacy  with  respect  to  the 
judgments  of  the  Druids  was  punished  by  exclusion 
from  the  ritual  of  sacrifice ;  and  this  sentence,  he 
says,  was  the  severest  among  the  Gauls,  since  the 
men  so  punished  were  treated  as  outlaws,  and  were 
cut  off  from  all  the  rights  and  privileges  of  human 
society.  In  Gaul  there  appears  to  have  been  a 
measure  of  centralization  in  the  administration 
of  justice,  since  the  assembly  of  the  Druids, 
meeting,  according  to  Caesar,  in  the  territory  of 
the  Carnutes,  held  a  court  for  the  trial  of  cases 
brought  from  every  district  around.  In  the  case 
of  the  Druids  it  is  clear  that  the  decision  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  religious  leaders  of  the  community ; 
and  this  suggests  that  among  the  Celts,  as  in  other 
early  communities,  the  ethical  and  the  religious 
aspects  of  crimes  and  their  punishments  were  not 
very  clearly  distinguished.  The  conception  of 
outlawry,  or  the  loss  of  civil  status,  was  a  marked 
feature  of  the  Celtic  treatment  of  wrongdoers  in 
the  historical  period,  but  this  form  of  punishment 
was  resorted  to  only  in  extreme  cases.  In  Irish 
law,  and  to  a  somewhat  less  extent  in  Welsh  law, 
recourse  appears  to  have  been  had  with  extreme 
reluctance  to  the  punishments  of  death  and  out- 
lawry. 

3.  In  Irish  law,  also,  it  is  remarkable  that 
imprisonment  and  all  forms  of  corporal  punish- 
ment, whether  by  mutilation,  beating,  or  torture, 
are  conspicuous  by  their  absence,  and  mutilation 
and  imprisonment  are  rarely  alluded  to  in  the 
Welsh  laws.  It  is  not  impossible  that  ordinary 
crime  was  almost  as  rare  in  Ireland  and  Wales  in 
ancient  times  as  it  is  to-day,  and  that  the  com- 
munities in  question  seldom  found  it  necessary  to 
have  recourse  to  very  extreme  punishments. 

4.  Another  feature  of  Celtic  law,  which  links  it  to 
certain  ancient  forms  of  social  organization,  is  the 
emphasis  laid  by  it  upon  the  responsibility  of  the 
family  group  for  the  conduct  of  its  members,  as  is 
seen  especially  in  the  case  of  the  crime  of  homicide 
(see,  further,  art.  Blood-feud  [Celtic]).1  Both  in 
Ireland  and  in  Wales  the  family  group  of  the 
slayer  had  to  pay  compensation  to  the  family 
group  of  the  slain  for  the  loss  of  one  of  their 
number.  This  collective  aspect  of  criminal  juris- 
prudence is  one  of  the  chief  differences  between 
the  older  Celtic  point  of  view  and  that  of  the  more 

1  Id  Ireland  the  family  groups  in  question  were  known  as  the 
geitfine,  derbfijie,  iarjine,  and  indjine. 


individualistic  jurisprudence  of  the  present  day  j 
but  even  in  Ireland  (Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland,  iii. 
245)  the  penalties  for  all  crimes  except  killing  fell 
on  the  offender,  provided  he  had  the  means  of 
paying. 

5.  Sources  of  information. — In  the  case  of  Ire- 
land there  is  a  large  body  of  knowledge  relating 
to  crimes  and  punishments,  as  well  as  to  othei 
branches  of  law,  contained  in  the  Ancient  Laws  of 
Ireland  (Rolls  Series,  1869-73).  This  work  com- 
prises various  legal  treatises,  such  as  the  Senchus 
M6r,  the  Corns  Bescna,  the  Book  of  Aicill,  etc. 
These  treatises  are  the  work  of  the  Brehons  (the 
hereditary  lawyers  of  Ireland),  who  decided  the 
cases  that  were  brought  to  them.  The  body  of 
law  in  question  retained  its  authority  among  the 
Irish  until  the  beginning  of  the  17th  century. 
The  law  of  England,  which  was  introduced  into 
Ireland  by  Henry  II.,  was  for  a  long  time  hardly 
followed  except  within  the  English  pale,  which 
consisted  of  Louth,  Meath,  Westmeath,  Kildare, 
Dublin,  and  Wicklow.  A  statute  of  Henry  VIII. 
(Stat.  13,  c.  3),  promulgated  in  1522,  mentions  that 
English  law  was  not  observed  beyond  the  counties 
named.  The  main  body  of  Irish  law  is  called  the 
Cain  ;  local  modifications  of  general  laws  were 
called  urradhus,  and  inter-territorial  regulations 
cairde. 

6.  In  the  case  of  Wales  there  is  abundant 
information  concerning  criminal  procedure  in 
the  Ancient  Laws  of  Wales,  published  under 
the  editorship  of  Aneurin  Owen  in  the  Rolls 
Series  (London,  1841).  There  is  also  a  very  con- 
venient edition  of  the  so-called  Gwentian  Code, 
published  by  A.  W.  Wade-Evans,  under  the  title 
Welsh  Medieval  Law,  from  a  Harleian  MS  (Brit. 
Mus.  4353)  of  the  13th  cent.  (Oxford,  Clarendon 
Press,  1909),  to  which  references  will  be  made  in 
this  article.  The  Welsh  laws  consist  partly  of  a 
Code,  issued  under  the  royal  sanction  and  authority 
of  Hywel  Dda,  and  partly  of  a  collection  of  legal 
maxims  arranged  in  groups  of  three,  or  triads. 
The  Welsh  laws  are  based  on  a  recension  of 
existing  customs  by  the  prince  Hywel  Dda  ('  Howel 
the  Good')  (c.  930),  and  vary  somewhat  for  the 
different  regions  of  the  Principality.  The  oldest 
MS  is  the  Black  Book  of  Chirk,  now  in  the 
National  Library  of  Wales,  Aberystwyth  (12th 
cent.),  which  appears  to  have  been  a  form  of  the 
code  of  Gwynedd  (N.W.  Wales) ;  hence  its  usual 
name,  the  Venedotian  Code.  Another  form  of  the 
Code  is  known  as  the  Dimetian,  or  the  Code  of 
Dyfed  (S.W.  Wales),  perhaps  better  regarded  as 
that  of  the  larger  area  known  as  Deheubarth  (the 
Southern  region),  while  another  form  is  usually 
known  as  the  Gwentian,  from  its  supposed  asso- 
ciation with  the  district  of  Gwent  (S.E.  Wales). 
It  is  probable,  however,  that  this  Code,  as  Wade- 
Evans  has  shown,  was  that  of  Powys  (Mid- Wales). 
The  Code  of  Hywel  is  found  in  a  Latin  as  well  as 
a  Welsh  form,  but  the  precise  relation  of  these 
two  forms  is  uncertain. 

7.  Attitude  of  the  community  to  crime. — Among 
the  Celts  the  community  recognized  the  right 
of  vengeance  (Ir.  digal,  Welsh  dial),  whereby 
the  individual  or  his  family  might  themselves 
obtain  satisfaction  or  compensation  for  a  wrong 
done  to  them.  This  right,  however,  was  one  that 
was  greatly  restricted  in  practice,  and  was  not  to 
be  put  into  operation  except  when  other  remedies 
failed.  Ancient  Irish  law,  and  probably  at  one 
time  Welsh  law,  made  no  distinction  between 
crimes  and  torts  (though  originally  some  offences 
may  have  been  viewed  as  offences  against  religion), 
and  dealt  with  them  alike  as  cases  for  compensa- 
tion through  payment.  Whereas  in  modern  com- 
munities crime  is  regarded  mainly  as  an  offence 
against   the    State,   though    individuals   may   be 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Uemc; 


263 


wronged  thereby,  Irish  legal  practice,  which  was 
in  the  hands  of  a  hereditary  caste  of  arbitrators 
called  Brehons,  developed  to  an  unusual  degree  the 
remedial  aspect  of  compensation  for  wrong  to  the 
sufferers — an  aspect  which  in  the  English  law  of 
crime  has  sunk  largely  into  the  background.  In 
Welsh  law  there  are  abundant  traces  of  an  earlier 
state  of  things  resembling  that  of  Ireland,  but 
there  are  also  signs  of  the  growth  of  a  point  of 
view  resembling  that  of  modern  States. 

8.  In  Ireland,  if  the  guilty  party  did  not  pay  the 
amount  which  the  Brehons  awarded,  the  party 
that  was  aggrieved  was  allowed  to  exercise  his 
right  of  vengeance  by  means  of  reprisals  or  private 
war.  In  Wales,  the  latter  process  was  called 
■myned  ar  herw  ('to  go  on  a  plundering  expedi- 
tion '),  and  the  regular  term  in  Welsh  for  plunder 
was  anrhaith  ('absence  of  law').  The  aggressor, 
if  his  family  cared  to  support  him,  might  offer 
resistance,  or  might  become  an  outlaw,  and,  in 
that  case,  the  avengers,  if  they  chose,  might  put 
him  to  death.  There  are  indications,  however, 
that  this  power  was  restricted  in  Irish  law  by 
making  the  right  purely  personal,  to  be  exercised 
only  by  the  person  who  had  been  specially  wronged. 
The  Welsh  legal  triads  state  (Wade-Evans,  Welsh 
Medieval  Law,  p.  264)  that  there  are  three  legal 
periods  for  avenging  a  dead  body  : 

'  Between  two  kindreds  who  do  not  originate  from  the  same 
gwlad  ("a  district  under  one  rule"),  commencing  a  claim  on 
the  first  day  of  the  week  following  that  wherein  the  dead  was 
murdered  ;  if  there  comes  no  answer  by  the  end  of  a  fortnight, 
the  law  makes  vengeance  free.  The  second  is,  if  the  two 
kindreds  are  in  the  same  cantrev  ("hundred"),  commencing 
a  claim  on  the  third  day  after  the  dead  is  slain ;  if  there 
comes  no  answer  by  the  end  of  the  ninth  day,  the  law  makes 
vengeance  free.  The  third  is,  if  the  two  kindreds  are  in  the 
same  cymwd  ("commot"),  commencing  a  claim  on  the  third 
day  after  the  dead  is  murdered ;  if  there  comes  no  answer  by 
the  end  of  the  sixth  day,  the  law  makes  vengeance  free.' 

In  three  MSS  of  the  Welsh  laws  (X211b,  W99b, 
and  U55a ;  see  Anc.  Laws  of  Wales,  i.  778,  and 
Wade-Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  306)  there  is  found  the 
following  statement : 

'There  are  three  incitements  to  revenge;  one  of  them,  the 
shrieking  of  female  relations.  The  second  is,  seeing  the  bier  of 
the  relative  going  to  the  graveyard.  The  third  is,  seeing  the 
grave  of  their  relative  without  enjoying  satisfaction.' 
The  Welsh  laws  make  the  following  exceptions  as 
to  the  persons  who  could  take  part  in  a  blood-feud 
(Wade-Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  187) : 

'And  if  there  be  any  one  of  the  kindred  of  the  murderer  or 
the  murdered  who  is  an  ecclesiastic  in  holy  orders  or  a  religious 
or  leprous  or  dumb  or  an  idiot,  he  neither  pays  nor  receives 
any  of  the  galanas  ("  blood-fine ").  They  are  not  to  take 
vengeance  for  a  person  murdered,  nor  is  vengeance  to  be 
taken  on  them  ;  and  it  is  impossible  to  compel  such  by  any  law 
to  pay  anything,  nor  are  they  to  receive.' 

9.  Family  champion. — In  Ireland  (see  Anc. 
Laws  of  Ireland,  iii.  83,  note)  there  existed  the 
institution  of  family  champion,  whose  place  it  was 
to  avenge  family  quarrels.  The  championship  in 
question  formed  one  of  the  seven  grades  of  a 
territory.  The  Welsh  laws  contain  no  reference 
to  this  institution. 

10.  Outlawry. — In  the  Book  of  A  kill — the  most 
important  treatise  on  Irish  criminal  law  (Anc. 
Laws  of  Ireland,  iii.  381) — the  question  is  asked, 
What  is  it  that  makes  a  stranger  of  a  native 
freeman  and  a  native  freeman  of  a  stranger  ?  The 
answer  is  as  follows  : 

'  That  is,  an  outlawed  stranger  :  he  is  defined  to  be  a  person 
who  frequently  commits  crimes,  and  his  family  cannot  ex- 
onerate themselves  from  his  crimes  by  suing  him  for  them, 
until  they  pay  a  price  for  exonerating  themselves  from  his 
crimes,  i.e.  seven  cumhals  (a  cumhal  =  3  cows)  to  the  chief ; 
and  Beven  cumhals  for  his  seven  years  of  penance  are  paid  to 
the  Church,  and  his  two  cumhals  for  car'rafi-relations  are  paid 
to  each  of  the  four  parties  with  whom  he  had  mutual  cairde- 
relations  ;  and  when  they  (the  family)  shall  have  given  in  this 
way,  they  shall  be  exempt  from  his  crimes  until  one  of  them 
gives  him  the  use  of  a  knife,  or  a  handful  of  grain  ;  or  until  he 
unyokes  his  horses  in  the  land  of  a  kinsman  out  of  family- 
friendship.  And,  if  they  give  him  these,  they  shall  not  be 
exempt  from  his  crimes,  until  they  pay  the  same  amount  again 
for    exonerating    themselves    from    his   crimes '  (ib.   p.    385). 


'  The  son  whom  he  had  begotten  before  he  had  been  made  an 
outlaw  is  to  be  like  every  other  lawful  man  of  the  family.  As 
to  the  eon  whom  he  may  have  begotten  after  he  had  been  made 
an  outlaw,  his  liabilities  shall  be  on  the  family  of  his  mother, 
i.e.  they  pay  the  full  debt  of  a  stranger  out  of  their  own 
rightful  stdb-  ("  legal  units  of  value  ")  for  his  liabilities,  and  they 
obtain  his  body-tine.  .  .  .  The  case  in  which  a  man  may  be 
killed  with  impunity — i.e.  every  man  is  exempt  from  liability 
for  killing  him — is  when  these  things  before  mentioned  were 
given  for  him,  and  the  king  has  not  neglected  to  restrain  him, 
and  he  is  not  on  the  land  of  any  particular  person,  and  there  is 
no  particular  perBon  who  feeds  him.  But,  if  the  king  has 
neglected  to  restrain  him,  and  if  he  is  not  in  the  employment 
or  hire  of  any  particular  person  in  the  territory,  he  (the  king) 
shall  pay  for  his  crime  ;  and,  if  he  be  killed,  the  body-fine  of  a 
stranger  who  has  a  bescna-  ("  modus  vivendi  ")  compact  shall  be 
paid  for  him.  Neglect  of  restraint  on  the  part  of  the  king 
means  that  he  did  not  restrain  him  to  the  employment  of  a 
particular  person,  or  did  not  have  him  living  on  a  particular 
land,  or  fed  by  a  particular  perBOn.' 

This  passage  is  of  interest  as  being  one  of  the 
few  passages  in  the  Ancient  Laws  of  Ireland  which 
refer  to  the  royal  power  or  responsibility.  The 
reference  is  important,  inasmuch  as  it  shows  that, 
even  in  Ireland,  the  king  had  a  clear  place  in  the 
legal  system  of  the  community,  though  the 
Brehons  made  little  mention  of  it.  In  Wales 
the  term  direit,  though  not  used  in  the  Laws, 
meant  originally  a  person  who  was  outside  the 
social  order. 

11.  In  the  Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland  (iii.  463)  the 
text  of  the  Book  of  Aicill  says,  'The  life  of  every 
law-breaker  is  fully  forfeited,'  but  this  is  ex- 
plained in  the  commentary  as  follows  : 

'  That  is,  it  is  lawful  to  kill  the  thief  without  name,  who  is 
not  known,  when  there  is  no  power  at  the  time  of  committing 
the  trespass  ;  and  he  (the  slayer)  is  exempt  on  account  of  every 
person  killed  in  his  (the  thief's)  guise.' 
The  various  cases  that  might  arise  under  this  head 
are  then  considered,  and  it  is  said  (op.  cit.  p.  469) : 

'  The  person  who  is  exempt  from  liability  for  killing  the  thief 
is  he  from  whom  he  came  to  thieve,  or  who  is  entitled  to  trie- 
fine  for  the  theft.  If  he  (the  slayer)  be  the  person  to  whom 
^Wc-fine  is  not  due  for  the  theft,  full  body-fine  is  due  from  him 
for  killing  him,  whether  there  was  or  was  not  power  to  arrest 
him.  Or,  according  to  others,  it  may  be  lawful  for  any  person 
to  kill  him,  whether  the  person  to  whom  he  came  to  thieve,  or 
the  person  to  whom  he  did  not  come  to  thieve.'  '  It  is  then 
there  is  no  exemption  for  killing  a  person  in  the  guise  of  the 
thief,  when  he  is  seen  stealing  the  sttds  ("chattels"),  or  when 
the  track  of  any  particular  thing  stolen  was  found  after  him.  If 
he  was  not  seen  stealing  the  sids,  or  if  the  track  of  the  par- 
ticular thing  stolen  was  not  found  after  him,  there  shall  be 
paid  full  body-fine  for  killing  him,  whether  there  was  or  was 
not  power  to  arrest  him.  The  person  who  came  to  inflict  a 
wound  upon  the  body  may  be  safely  killed  when  unknown  and 
without  a  name,  and  when  there  was  not  power  to  arrest  him 
at  the  time  of  committing  the  trespass,  and  there  is  exemption 
for  every  one  killed  in  his  guise.' 

12.  Administration  of  justice. — In  Ireland  the 
picture  presented  by  the  Brehon  legal  treatises  is 
that  of  a  community  without  an  official  magistracy 
or  police,  where  the  remedy  in  the  case  of  any 
wrong  done  (whether  a  crime  or  a  tort)  was  in  the 
form  of  damages  assessed  by  an  arbitrator  pos- 
sessing hereditary  expert  knowledge  of  Irish 
custom,  the  main  problem  for  the  arbitrator  being 
in  each  case  the  accurate  assessment  of  damages, 
which  varied  with  the  status  of  the  person  wronged; 
with  the  act  committed,  and  with  other  circum 
stances.  Allusions  to  the  king's  power  or  laws 
are  very  rare  in  these  legal  treatises.  In  Anc. 
Laws  of  Ireland  (iii.  409)  we  are  told  that  the 
crimes  of  the  man  who  violated  the  king's  laws 
were  adjudged  on  the  seven  houses  in  which  he 
got  beds,  that  the  penalty  for  violating  the  king's 
laws  varied  according  to  the  nature  of  the  tenancy 
and  local  laws,  and  that  there  was  a  penalty  for 
supplying  lodging  to  the  violators  of  the  king's 
laws,  and  similarly  for  the  violation  of  a  king's 
inter-territorial  law ;  but  it  is  clear  that  the  idea 
of  a  crime  in  its  relation  to  the  community  as  a 
whole  was  in  Ireland  more  implicit  than  explicit. 
In  Wales  the  Laws  refer  to  brawdwyr  ('judges'), 
who  had  a  recognized  status  in  the  community, 
but  whose  payment  appears  to  have  come  mainly 
from  the  parties  to  the  action. 


264 


CEIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Celtic) 


13.  Effect  of  intention. — The  distinction  between 
criminal  and  non-criminal  injuries  was  recognized 
in  Irish  law,  though  without  altering  the  type  of 
compensation  required.  Whenever  a  wrong  action 
was  shown  to  be  due  to  malice  aforethought,  the 
tines  on  account  of  it  had  to  be  doubled.  Intention 
had  always  (see  Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland,  iii.  469, 
471)  to  be  taken  into  account  in  the  case  of  theft, 
wounding,  and  homicide.  In  op.  cit.  iii.  139  there 
is  a  minute  discussion  of  the  tine  due  for  the  in- 
tention to  wound,  when  the  attempt  to  wound  was 
not  successful.  The  Welsh  process  of  galanas 
('recovery  of  compensation  for  murder')  was 
always  combined  with  the  recovery  of  the  fine 
for  sarhad  ('insult') — a  combination  which  shows 
that,  in  historic  times  at  any  rate,  intention  was 
clearly  recognized.  It  is  said,  for  example  (Wade- 
Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  255),  that  an  unintentional  blow 
is  not  sarhad. 

14.  Responsibility. — In  Irish  law  (Anc.  Laws  of 
Ireland,  ii.  45)  it  is  recognized  that  certain  persons 
could  not  be  considered  responsible  for  their  actions, 
and  the  rule  is  laid  down  that 

'  a  fool,  a  madman,  a  male  idiot,  a  female  idiot,  and  a  dumb 
person  shall  not  be  distrained  :  their  adult  guardians  who  bear 
their  crimes  and  get  their  wages  shall  be  distrained.' 
In  op.  cit.  iii.  157,  it  is  said  : 

'  The  man  who  incites  a  fool  is  he  who  pays  for  his  crime,  in 
which  case  the  man  who  commits  the  crime,  i.e.  the  fool,  is 
exempt ;  for  this  is  the  instance  in  which  fines  of  design  are 
paid,  another  man  who  paid  had  not  designs.' 
In  some  cases  (see  op.  cit.  iii.  159)  there  was  a 
difference  of  opinion,  and  we  read  : 

'  When  a  fool  has  committed  a  furious  assault  alone,  of  his 
own  accord,  without  cause,  without  enmity,  it  is  then  lawful  to 
give  every  fool  up  for  his  crime ;  or,  according  to  others, 
compensation  must  be  paid  on  his  account  by  his  family  or  the 
person  with  whom  he  is.  If  there  be  enmity,  each  of  them 
payB  compensation.' 

In  op.  cit.  iii.  501  it  is  stated  that  neglect  on  the 
part  of  the  sane  in  not  looking  after  the  insane 
would  have  to  be  compensated  for  ;  and,  according 
to  op.  cit.  iii.  507,  damages  would  have  to  be  paid 
for  leaving  an  epileptic  lunatic  unguarded.  The 
same  conception  underlies  op.  cit.  i.  157,  161,  where 
it  is  stated  that  a  person  is  liable  to  distress  for  the 
crimes  of  his  messenger  and  of  his  hired  woman, 
and  a  man  is  also  liable  to  a  fine  for  the  crime 
of  his  jester. 

In  Welsh  law  (Wade-Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  255)  it  is 
stated  that 

*  a  free  man  is  to  answer  for  his  alltud  ("foreign  servant")  in 
every  claim  for  which  he  is  not  to  lose  the  tongue,  and  life,  and 
limbs ;  for  no  one  is  to  lose  tongue  and  life  and  limbs  by  the 
tongue  of  another  person.'  It  is  further  stated  (i&.  p.  259), 
that  no  one  is  to  make  answer  or  satisfaction  for  an  act  of  his 
bondman,  except  for  theft.' 

The  extent  to  which  children  could  be  held 
responsible  was  carefully  considered  in  Irish  law, 
and  the  Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland  (ii.  66)  discuss 
minutely  the  question  of  their  responsibility  at 
various  ages,  as  well  as  that  of  their  parents  and 
foster-parents.     In  op.  cit.  v.  151,  it  is  stated : 

'  Little  boys  are  safe  in  all  the  rights  of  lawful  sports,  until 
they  have  come  to  the  age  of  having  to  pay  damage  of  dire 
("  restitution-fine  ")  for  violence.' 

Women,  in  respect  of  their  first  and  second  crimes, 
were  placed  on  the  same  footing  as  boys. 

15.  Advocacy.  —  The  Irish  treatises  make  no 
mention  of  advocacy,  but  the  Welsh  legal  triads 
contain  the  following  statement : 

'  Three  persons  who  are  entitled  to  an  advocate  for  them  in 
court :  a  woman,  and  one  with  a  natural  impediment  in  speech, 
and  an  alien  of  foreign  speech.' 

16.  Crimes  in  Irish  law. — The  forms  of  what 
would  now  be  called  crimes,  or  serious  wrongs, 
with  which  Irish  law  deals,  are  homicide,  wounding 
and  mutilation,  criminal  assault,  theft,  assault, 
perjury,  insult,  libel,  slander,  using  charms, 
trespass,  damage  to  property  (both  living  and 
dead),  gross  negligence,  absconding  and  har- 
bouring a  fugitive,  abduction,  stripping  of  the 
dead,  and  disturbance  of  the  peace. 


17.  Crimes  in  Welsh  law. — The  above  were 
crimes  or  serious  wrongs  also  in  Welsh  law,  with 
the  omission  of  the  using  of  charms,  and  the 
addition  of  arson,  waylaying,  indecent  assault,  and 
treason. 

18.  Penalties  in  Irish  law. — The  normal  penal- 
ties of  Irish  law  consisted  in  the  payment  of  certain 
fines,  which  were  assessed  by  the  Brebons  (see 
above).  The  principle  underlying  these  fines  was 
that  they  were  viewed  as  the  equivalents  of  the 
amount  of  vengeance  which  the  person  or  persons 
aggrieved  would  be  justified  in  exacting  in  a  par- 
ticular case.  Hence  an  important  consideration 
which  entered  into  the  assessment  of  every  fine 
was  the  value  and  status  of  the  person  injured. 
Irish  law  (as  well  as  that  of  Wales)  was  based  upon 
the  principle  that  each  person  and  thing  in  the 
community  had  a  definite  legal  worth.  In  the 
case  of  persons,  various  considerations  entered  into 
the  calculation  both  of  a  person's  dire-fine  ('  honour- 
price')  and  of  his  trie-fine  ('  body-price').  In  the 
Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland  (v.  97)  it  is  asked  what  it  is 
that  gives  dire  ('honour-price')  to  a  person,  and 
the  reply  is  '  desert  and  worth  and  purity.'  Of 
desert  it  is  further  explained  that  it  refers  to 
property,  of  worth  that  it  refers  to  the  person's 
word,  and  of  purity  that  it  refers  to  his  deed.  In 
the  matter  of  rank  as  conferring  status,  there  were 
in  Ireland  two  chief  grades:  (1)  the  saer-nemed, 
and  (2)  the  daer-nemed.  In  op.  cit.  v.  15,  the 
former  are  said  to  consist  of  'churches,  chiefs, 
poets,  and  fiine '  (free  tenants),  while  the  latter 
consist  of  the  practisers  of  every  art  in  general. 
A  passage  from  one  of  these  grades  into  thfi  other 
(with  a  consequent  change  in  honour-price)  was 
possible.  A  saer  ( '  free  ')-man  might  become  a  doer 
('unfree')-man  by  selling  his  land  or  his  property 
or  his  body  into  servitude,  while  a  daer-m&n  might 
become  a  saer-ma.11  by  purchasing  land  or  law  or 
freedom  by  his  act  or  by  his  husbandry,  or  '  by  his 
talent  which  God  bestowed  upon  him.'  A  loss  of 
'  honour-price '  might  result  from  a  defect  of  char- 
acter.    In  op.  cit.  i.  55  it  is  said  : 

'There  are  four  dignitaries  of  a  territory  who  may  be 
degraded :  a  false-judging  king,  a  stumbling  bishop,  a  fraudu- 
lent poet,  an  unworthy  chieftain  who  does  not  fulfil  his  duties.' 
Again,  in  op.  cit.  p.  57  : 

'  False  judgment  and  false  witness  and  false  testimony  and 
fraudulent  security  and  fraudulent  pledging  and  false  proof  and 
false  information  and  false  character-giving  and  bad  word  and 
bad  story,  and  lying  in  general,  whether  in  the  case  of  the 
Church  or  the  laity, — every  one  of  these  deprives  the  man  who 
is  guilty  of  such  of  half  his  honour-price  up  to  the  third  time, 
but  it  does  not  deprive  him  with  regard  to  every  one  of  them 
until  the  third  time.' 

The  Irish  law-treatise  referred  to  enters  mi- 
nutely into  the  question  of  the  loss  of  full  and  half 
honour-price  in  the  case  of  kings,  bishops,  chief- 
tains, poets,  and  others ;  and  it  is  of  interest  to 
note  the  importance  attached  in  Irish  law  to 
character  and  right  conduct. 

It  was  not  character  alone,  however,  that 
determined  honour-price,  and  Irish  law  reflects 
differences  of  opinion  as  to  the  extent  to  which  it 
depended  upon  a  man's  profession,  his  separable 
property,  or  the  rank  of  the  chief  under  whom  he 
served. 

Apart  from  the  cases  already  mentioned,  where 
it  is  stated  that  under  certain  circumstances  a 
wrongdoer  might  be  put  to  death  (see  above),  there 
is  no  reference  to  the  death-penalty  in  Irish  law, 
nor  is  there  any  reference  to  imprisonment.  The 
king  appears  to  have  had  power  to  assign  a  wrong- 
doer to  the  service  of  a  particular  person,  but  no 
mention  is  made  of  imprisonment  as  a  form  of 
punishment.  The  only  reference  to  castigation  as 
a  form  of  punishment  is  in  the  case  of  a  child 
under  seven,  who  could  be  chastised  only  by  its 
parent.  In  certain  cases  pther  fines  called  airer 
(' redemption ')  and  smacht  ('discipline')  were  ex- 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Celtic) 


266 


acted,  and  there  are  occasional  references  to  pen- 
ance. 

19.  Penalties  in  Welsh  law. — Welsh,  like  Irish, 
law  was  based  upon  a  consideration  of  the  status 
of  the  individual,  and  upon  the  determination  of 
the  legal  worth  of  everj'  person  and  object  (living 
or  dead).  These  ideas  enter  prominently  into  the 
questions  of  sarhad  and  galanas,  the  former  being 
compensation  for  insult,  and  the  latter  compen- 
sation for  homicide.  Thus  the  same  dominant 
conceptions  govern  Welsh  and  Irish  law,  and  they 
clearly  go  back  to  a  similar  stratum  of  ideas.  In 
Welsh  law,  however,  the  central  power  of  the  king 
in  each  territory  had  attained  greater  prominence 
than  in  Ireland,  with  the  result  that  the  fines 
called  dirwy  and  camlwrw  for  various  offences 
were  not  paid  to  the  individuals  wronged,  but 
usually  to  the  king  ;  and  the  same  rule  governed  a 
third  of  each  galanas  ('body-fine'),  while  sarhad 
was  paid  to  the  person  or  persons  wronged.  In 
certain  cases  a  part  of  the  camlwrw  was  payable 
to  persons  other  than  the  king,  and  in  the  case  of 
a  religious  community  the  whole  of  the  camlwrw 
appears  to  have  been  paid  over  to  the  abbot  and 
the  lay  impropriators.  The  dirwy  was  a  larger 
fine,  paid  directly  to  the  king  (according  to  a  Latin 
text  of  the  Laws  written  about  1250),  for  fighting, 
theft,  and  criminal  assault.  The  penalty  of  emas- 
culation was  imposed  upon  a  ravisher  who  could 
not  pay  the  fine,  and  a  bondman  striking  a  freeman 
was  liable  to  have  his  right  hand  cut  off. 

Though  there  is  no  allusion  in  the  Welsh  laws 
to  imprisonment  as  a  penalty  for  any  specific 
offence,  yet  the  fact  of  imprisonment  is  implied  in 
more  than  one  passage.  For  example,  in  Wade- 
Evans  (op.  cit.  p.  177)  we  read  that  the  smith  of 
the  court  was  to  receive  four  pence  from  every 
prisoner  off  whom  he  should  remove  irons.  Again, 
of  the  court-porter  it  is  said  that  he  is  to  get  four 
pence  from  every  prisoner  who  shall  be  lawfully 
imprisoned  in  the  court.  One  MS  (U45a)  gives 
imprisonment  as  one  of  the  lawful  excuses  for 
neglecting  a  summons.  The  Welsh  word  carchar 
('prison')  is  derived  from  the  Latin  career,  and  is 
a  term  used  in  Welsh  for  the  fetter  placed  on  an 
animal  to  prevent  it  from  straying.  It  is  there- 
fore probable  that  liberty  was  impeded,  whenever 
necessary,  more  by  the  use  of  chains  and  fetters 
than  by  confinement  in  a  building. 

Though  Irish  law  contains  no  reference  to  a 
death  penalty,  Welsh  law  has  a  few  allusions  to 
the  penalty  of  hanging.  This  was  in  Wales  the 
recognized  punishment  for  theft  (as  is  stated  in  the 
Mabinogi  of  Manawyddan  fab  Llyr).  In  Wade- 
Evans  (op.  cit.  p.  213)  we  read  : 

'  One  person  escapes  from  an  admitted  theft  with  flesh  and 
skin  on  his  back  [viz.]  a  necessitous  alltud  ("alien")  who  shall 
have  been  three  nights  and  three  days  without  alms,  without 
relief,  and  who  shall  have  traversed  three  trevs  ("townships") 
daily,  with  nine  houses  in  every  trev ;  and  then,  owing;  to 
hunger,  shall  commit  theft,  -and  then  shall  be  caught  with 
flesh  and  Bkin  on  his  back.  He  is  to  be  let  free  without  gallows 
and  without  payment.' 

Similarly,  if  a  thief  was  found  burning  a  house 
stealthily,  and  was  caught,  his  life  would  be  for- 
feited. In  the  case  of  a  thief  the  Welsh  laws 
recognize  the  penalty  of  sale. 

Among  the  fines  mentioned  in  the  Welsh  laws  is 
that  of  dilysdod  ('acquittance'),  which  was  en- 
forced as  a  payment  to  a  woman  by  her  ravisher. 
This  was  probably  meant  as  a  payment  to  guar- 
antee her  status  as  a  virgin  in  the  eyes  of  the  law. 
There  was  also  a  similar  payment  called  givaddol, 
payable  by  a  man  who  failed  to  rebut  a  charge  of 
criminal  assault  upon  a  woman  walking  alone. 

20.  Medium  of  payment  of  fines. — In  Irish  law 
the  terms  used  in  estimating  fines  are  cumhal  and 
sid.  By  a  cumhal  was  originally  meant  '  a  female 
bond-slave,'  but,  in  course  of  time,  the  word  came 


to  mean  the  equivalent  in  value  of  three  cows. 
The  method  of  payment  of  fines  was  in  a  fixed 
proportion  of  certain  goods.  When  half  a  cumhal 
had  to  be  paid,  it  had  to  be  in  one  species  of  goods  ; 
when  one  cumhal  was  required,  it  had  to  be  in 
two  species  ;  and,  when  three  or  upwards  of  three 
cumhals  were  required,  they  had  to  be  in  three 
species.  In  that  case  one-third  would  have  to  be 
in  cows,  one-third  in  horses,  and  one-third  in 
silver.  Of  the  cattle  one-third  had  to  be  male, 
one-third  of  the  horses  had  to  be  mares,  and  one- 
third  of  the  silver  by  weight  might  be  copper 
alloy.  A  sid  was  defined  as  follows  (Anc.  Laws  of 
Ireland,  iii.  463) : 

'  A  common  easily  divisible  sid  means  two  live  chattels  or 
dead  chattels,  or  one  dead  chattel  the  value  of  which  is  not 
lessened  by  its  being  divided.' 

Of  sids  the  most  prized  was  a  milch  cow.  In 
Welsh  law  the  fine  called  camlwrw  consisted  of 
three  kine,  paid  as  a  rule  directly  to  the  king,  and 
sometimes  doubled.  The  fine  called  dirwy  con- 
sisted of  twelve  kine,  paid  directly  to  the  king, 
and  was  also  sometimes  doubled.  Sarhad  and 
galanas  were  paid  in  various  ways,  as  directed  in 
the  Laws.  The  coins  mentioned  in  the  Welsh 
laws  are  :  ( 1 )  keinhawc  kyfreith,  '  a  legal  penny ' 
(see  Wade-Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  330) ;  (2)  keinhawc 
cota, '  a  curt  penny '  (ib. ) ;  (3)  dimei,  '  a  half-penny ' ; 
and  (4)  punt,  '  a  pound.' 

21.  Initiation  of  legal  process. — In  Ireland  the 
aggrieved  party  compelled  the  aggressor  to  submit 
the  case  to  arbitrators,  by  levying  distress  (Ir. 
athgabhail)  upon  the  latter.  In  its  most  solemn 
form  the  levying  of  distress  required  that  the 
person  aggrieved  should  '  fast  against'  the  aggressor 
(see  Asceticism  [Celtic],  vol.  ii.  p.  72b),  that  is, 
call  Heaven  to  witness  that  he  would  starve  to 
death  if  his  opponent  did  not  submit  the  case  to  a 
Brehon.  The  consideration  of  questions  connected 
with  distress  is  one  of  the  most  elaborate  sections 
of  Irish  law.  In  Wales,  in  keeping  with  the 
greater  development  of  the  central  power,  a  man 
could  be  called  to  appear  in  answer  to  a  gwys 
('summons').  The  legal  method  of  accusing  for 
theft  is  described  in  Wade-Evans  (op.  cit.  p.  245). 
Even  in  Ireland  certain  people  (Anc.  Laws  of 
Ireland,  i.  105,  107)  might  be  arrested  for  their 
liabilities,  instead  of  being  distrained  upon,  and 
the  circumstances  under  which  this  process  might 
take  place  are  fully  considered. 

In  Irish  law  a  pledge  had  to  be  given  (op.  cit. 
i.  277)  to  stop  the  process  of  fasting,  especially  in 
judgments  of  theft,  robbery,  and  violation ;  and 
the  contingencies  arising  from  the  giving  of  the 
pledge  and  its  possible  loss  form  an  important 
section  of  the  Law  of  Distress.  In  Wales,  the 
term  mach  ( '  pledge  ')  was  used  in  the  Laws  only  in 
connexion  with  civil  matters.  In  criminal  pro- 
cedure the  accused  person  had  to  obtain  a  gorvodog, 
i.e.  a  personal  surety,  for  one  who  was  charged 
with  crime  (see  Wade-Evans,  op.  cit.  pp.  25Sf., 
312).  In  the  Irish  legal  treatises  the  question  of 
evidence  is  not  discussed  to  the  same  extent  as  it 
is  in  the  Welsh  laws,  and  it  is  noticeable  that  the 
latter  assign  considerable  prominence  to  the  oath, 
both  of  the  accused  and  of  his  compurgators,  as  a 
means  of  clearing  his  character.  The  Welsh  term 
for  this  process  was  to  put  a  person  upon  his  rhaith 
(a  word  cognate  in  formation  with  Lat.  rectus), 
and,  in  this  process,  he  had  to  bring  forward  a 
certain  number  of  persons  to  swear  on  his  behalf 
to  the  justice  of  his  claim  or  defence  as  a  whole. 

22.  Penalties  for  particular  crimes. — (1)  Homi- 
cide.— (a)  In  Ireland  homicide  was  divided  into 
intentional  and  unintentional.  The  fine  for  the 
former  was  double  that  of  the  latter.  The  account 
given  in  the  Senchus  Mir  suggests  that  there  was 
some  difference  of  opinion  as  to  whether  homicide 


266 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Celtic) 


should  in  all  cases  be  treated  as  a  matter  for  com- 
pensation through  payment,  but  the  customary 
law  with  its  iric  ('  body-fine ')  appears  to  have 
prevailed.  In  the  case  of  secret  homicide  the 
concealment  was  regarded  as  a  separate  act,  and 
compensation  had  to  be  paid  for  it  accordingly. 
When  a  freeman  was  slain  by  a  freeman,  the  slayer 
had  to  pay  the  amount  of  his  own  honour-price, 
together  with  a  fine  of  seven  cumhals,  as  com- 
pensation for  the  death.  For  concealment  the 
slayer  paid  honour-price,  together  with  seven 
cumhals.  If  the  body  was  found,  the  fine  for  con- 
cealment was  remitted.  Looking  on  at  a  murder 
was  a  wrong  which  was  liable  to  a  fine.  Whenever 
a  person  found  a  dead  body,  he  had  to  give  in- 
formation at  once  ;  otherwise,  he  was  liable  to  the 
fine  of  a  looker-on,  or,  according  to  others,  of  an 
accomplice.  The  Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland  (iii.  101, 
etc.)  consider  with  great  fullness  the  various  cases 
that  might  arise  in  connexion  with  homicide. 

As  illustrating  the  growth  of  a  different  mental  attitude 
from  the  preceding,  it  may  be  stated  that  the  commentator  to 
the  Corns  Bescna  treats  homicide,  and  all  other  wrongs  done 
with  malice  aforethought,  as  being  in  the  nature  of  exceptions 
to  the  ordinary  law,  and  holds  that  the  slayer  should  be  given 
up,  with  all  his  property,  to  the  family  of  the  slain  man. 

(b)  In  Wales  the  term  for  a  '  murder-fine '  was 
galanas,  and,  along  with  the  murder-fine,  in  every 
case  of  homicide  sarhad  ('  compensation  for  insult  ) 
had  to  be  paid.  The  amount  of  the  murder-fine 
varied  with  the  status  of  the  person  murdered. 
The  murderer  was  helped  to  pay  by  his  kinsmen, 
to  the  fifth  cousin,  and  the  liabilities  of  these  were 
fixed  by  law.  According  to  the  Welsh  law  (Wade- 
Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  193),  a  third  of  every  galanas 
was  paid  to  the  king,  and  also  whatever  of  the 
murderer's  chattels  was  from  time  to  time  obtain- 
able. The  reason  given  is  that  it  is  for  the  king 
to  enforce  where  it  is  not  possible  for  a  kindred  to 
do  so.  The  murder-fine  of  a  king  was  three 
times  the  amount  of  his  sarhad  with  three  aug- 
mentations ;  the  amount  of  his  sarhad  being  as 
follows : 

'a  hundred  kine  for  every  cantrev  ("hundred")  in  his  king- 
dom, and  a  silver  rod  which  shall  reach  from  the  ground  to  the 
king's  pate,  when  he  shall  sit  in  his  chair,  as  thick  as  his  ring 
finger,  with  three  knobs  at  the  top  and  three  at  the  bottom  as 
thick  as  the  rod  ;  and  a  golden  cup  which  shall  hold  the  king's 
full  draught,  as  thick  as  the  nail  of  a  ploughman  who  shall 
have  ploughed  for  seven  years,  and  a  golden  cover  thereon  as 
thick  as  the  cup,  as  broad  as  the  king's  face.' 

There  was  a  similar  murder-fine  for  the  heir- 
apparent.  The  galanas  of  a  chief  of  the  household 
was  a  third  of  the  king's,  '  without  privileged  gold 
and  silver.'  A  steward,  a  judge  of  a  court,  a 
falconer,  a  chief  huntsman,  a  chief  groom,  and  a 
page  of  the  chamber  all  had  the  same  galanas, 
consisting  of  '  nine  kine  and  nine  score  kine  with 
three  augmentations.'  For  the  galanas  of  the 
other  officers,  except  the  chief  of  the  household 
and  the  priest  of  the  household,  six  kine  and  six 
score  kine  '  with  three  augmentations '  had  to  be 
paid.  In  the  case  of  the  priest  of  the  household 
the  murderer  had  to  submit  '  to  the  law  of  the 
Synod.'  The  laws  fix  the  galanas  of  various  other 
persons,  but  it  is  sufficient  to  mention  that  the 
galanas  of  a  free  Welshman  of  pure  descent  con- 
sisted of  '  three  kine  and  three  score  kine  with 
three  augmentations.'  This  was  also  the  amount 
of  the  galanas  of  a  king's  serf,  while  the  galanas 
of  a  nobleman's  serf  was  half  of  this  amount.  For 
a  thief  there  was  no  galanas.  (For  various  ques- 
tions connected  with  homicide,  see  Wade-Evans, 
op.  cit.  pp.  236,  248,  252  f.,  264,  294,  299  f.,  320.) 
In  the  case  of  a  fratricide  the  kindred  were  not  to 
pay  galanas  with  the  murderer. 

(2)  Wounding  and  mutilating. — {a)  In  the  Anc. 
Laws  of  Ireland  (iii.  349,  etc.)  there  is  a  very  full 
discussion  of  the  penalties  due  for  wounding  and 
mutilating,  and  the  various  wounds  and  losses 
that  might  be  inflicted  are  considered   in   great 


detail.  For  a  foot,  a  hand,  an  eye,  or  a  tongue, 
half  the  ^ric-fine  of  every  person  was  to  be  paid, 
and  in  the  opinion  of  some  the  full  ^ric-fine  should 
be  paid  for  the  mouth,  the  nose,  and  the  tongue. 
According  to  op.  cit.  iii.  472,  the  sick  maintenance 
of  a  wounded  person  had  to  be  compensated  for, 
and  a  substitute  had  also  to  be  provided.  Among 
the  wrongs  requiring  compensation  was  that  of 
shaving  bare  the  beard  or  the  whiskers. 

(b)  In  Welsh  law  there  is  an  assessment  of  the 
worth  of  each  part  of  a  person's  body  (see  Wade- 
Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  190  f.).  The  following  quotation 
will  suffice  to  illustrate  the  list  of  values  : 

1  All  a  person's  members  when  reckoned  together  are  eight 
and  four  score  pounds  in  value.  A  person's  finger  is  a  cow  and 
a  score  of  silver  in  value.  The  worth  of  the  thumb  is  two  kine 
and  two  score  of  silver.  A  person's  nail  is  thirty  pence  in 
value.' 

With  reference  to  a  serf's  limbs  there  is  a  passage 
in  MS  U27a  which  reads  as  follows : 

'  The  worth  of  the  serf's  limbs  by  law  is  as  much  as  the  worth 
of  the  king's  limbs  according  to  worth.  The  galanas  and  the 
sarhad,  however,  of  every  one  are  paid  according  to  his  status 
when  a  limb  shall  be  broken.' 

(3)  Arson. — The  Welsh  laws  alone  deal  with  this 
offence,  and  refer  to  the  necessity  of  compurgation 
to  meet  it : 

'  If  an  accusation  of  the  crime  of  burning  stealthily  be 
brought  against  a  person,  the  oaths  of  fifty  men  will  be 
necessary  for  him.  If  he  obtain  his  rhaith  ("acquittance"),  it 
will  be  sufficient  for  him ;  if  he  obtain  it  not,  he  becomes  a 
saleable  thief.  A  saleable  thief  is  worth  seven  pounds.' 
The  case  of  attempted  arson  by  a  thief  has  been 
mentioned  above. 

(4)  Waylaying. — This  crime  is  also  specifically 
mentioned  only  in  Welsh  law,  as  follows  : 

'  Whoever  shall  waylay  pays  twofold,  because  it  is  a  violence 
against  a  person  to  kill  him,  and  a  theft  to  conceal ;  -  and  that 
is  the  one  place  in  law  where  violence  and  theft  become  con* 
nected.  And  it  is  to  be  thus  denied  ;  the  oaths  of  fifty  men  to 
deny  wood  and  field,  and  three  of  them  under  vow  to  abstain 
from  flesh  and  woman  and  horse-riding.' 

This  offence  was  punished  by  hanging  and  confis- 
cation. 

(5)  Criminal  assault. — (a)  Irish  law  required 
the  payment  of  a  heavy  fine  for  attempting  to 
violate  a  person's  wife,  and  a  still  heavier  fine  for 
actual  violation  (see  Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland,  i.  163, 
167,  177,  181).    In  op.  cit.  ii.  405,  we  read  as  follows  : 

'  If  the  girl  has  been  defiled  within  the  age  of  seven  years, 
full  body-fine  shall  be  paid  for  her,  and  honour-price  in  right  of 
Qod  ;  full  body-fine  also  till  she  reaches  the  age  of  ten,  and  half 
the  honour-price  of  her  father  ;  two-thirds  of  body-fine  for  her 
from  the  age  of  ten  forth  till  she  reaches  fourteen,  and  half  the 
honour-price  of  ber  father ;  and  there  is  no  division  of  the 
body-fine  from  that  forth.' 

(b)  Welsh  law  punished  criminal  assault,  accord- 
ing to  one  account,  as  follows  : 

'  Whoever  shall  commit  a  rape  on  a  woman,  let  him  pay  her 
<70&r  ("  maiden  fee  ")  to  her  lord  ;  and  her  dirwy  ("  fine  ")  and 
her  dilysdod  ("acquittance")  and  her  agweddi  ("dowry") 
and  her  sarhad  ("  fine  for  insult")  he  pays  to  the  woman  ;  and, 
if  she  be  a  maid,  let  him  pay  her  cowyll  (a  gift  payable  by  the 
husband  to  the  wife  on  the  morning  after  the  marriage).' 
Some  texts  add  :  '  and  a  silver  rod  to  the  king  in 
the  manner  he  is  entitled  ;  and,  if  the  man  cannot 
pay,  his  testicles  shall  be  taken.'  (For  the  oath  of 
the  woman  and  the  oaths  of  fifty  men  required  for 
compurgation,  see  Wade-Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  237  f.) 

In  Wade-Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  240,  the  case  of  assault 
by  two  men  upon  two  women  is  considered  as 
follows : 

'  If  two  women  shall  be  journeying  through  any  place  and 
there  be  no  one  with  them,  and  two  men  meet  them  and  violate 
them,  they  are  not  to  be  compensated.  If,  however,  there  be 
one  perBOn  with  them,  although  ever  so  little,  unless  he  be  a 
carried  child,  they  lose  none  of  their  right.' 
In  MS  U42a  the  following  is  added  : 

'  A  woman  who  shall  be  violated,  if  she  know  not  who  has 
violated  her,  is  not  to  pay  amobr  ("maiden  fee");  since  the 
king  preserved  her  not  from  violation,  he  loses  her  amobr;  and, 
if  the  woman  be  doubted  in  that  respect,  let  her  give  her  oath 
that  she  knows  not  who  violated  her,  and  that  she  was  violated 
as  aforesaid.' 

One  legal  triad  speaks  of  the  violation  of  a  woman 
as  '  one  of  the  three  disgraces  of  a  kindred.' 

(6)  Indecent  assault. — In  the  Welsh  laws  (Wade- 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Celtic) 


267 


Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  270)  the  following  statement 
occurs : 

'  Three  sarhads  of  a  woman  there  are,  one  of  which  is  aug- 
mented, and  one  diminished,  and  one  is  a  complete  sarhad. 
When  a  kiss  is  given  her  against  her  will,  a  third  of  her  sarhad 
is  wanting  to  her  then.  The  second  is  feeling  her  with  the 
hand,  and  that  is  a  full  sarhad  to  her.  The  third  is  being  con- 
nected with  her  against  her  will,  and  that  is  augmented  by  the 
third.' 

(7)  Theft. — (a)  Irish  law  deals  very  fully  with 
the  various  fines  which  have  to  be  paid  in  the 
case  of  theft,  the  amount  of  compensation  vary- 
ing chiefly  with  the  nature  of  the  object  stolen. 
Among  such  objects  are  land,  cattle,  grass,  rushes, 
turf,  fruit,  fish,  boards,  firewood,  wattles,  etc.; 
and  among  the  special  cases  considered  are  that 
of  stealing  from  a  house  and  from  a  hunter's 
cooking-tent,  and  that  of  stealing  a  smith's  tools. 
According  to  the  Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland  (iii.  463), 
it  was  lawful  to  kill  the  unknown  or  nameless 
thief,  but  this  right  was  personal  only  (op.  cit.  iii. 
469).  There  was  a  further  rule  that  no  one  was  to 
trade  with  a  thief. 

(b)  Welsh  law  dealt  severely  with  thieving,  and 
punished  it  (probably  when  habitual)  with  execu- 
tion by  hanging.  In  Wade-Evans  (op.  cit.  p.  188) 
there  is  a  list  of  naw  affeith  lledrat  ( '  the  nine 
accessaries  of  theft '),  which  are  given  as  follows  : 

'  The  first  of  the  nine  accessaries  of  theft  is  devising  deceit 
and  seeking  an  accomplice.  The  second  is  agreeing  concerning 
the  theft.  The  third  is  giving  provision.  The  fourth  is  carry- 
ing the  food  while  accompanying  him  (the  thief).  The  fifth  is 
tearing  down  the  cattle-yard,  or  breaking  the  house.  The 
sixth  is  moving  what  is  stolen  from  its  place,  and  walking  day 
or  night  with  it.  The  seventh  is  knowing  and  informing  as 
to  the  theft.  The  eighth  is  sharing  with  the  thieves.  The 
ninth  is  seeing  the  theft  and  concealing  it  for  reward,  or 
buying  it  for  worth.  Whoever  shall  deny  one  of  these  acces- 
saries, let  him  give  the  oaths  of  fifty  men  without  bondman 
and  without  alien/ 

There  is  a  reference  to  the  death-penalty  for 
stealing  in  the  following  statement,  where  it  is 
said  (ib.  p.  189)  that  one  of  the  nine  persons  who 
are  to  be  believed  in  giving  their  testimony,  each 
one  of  them  separately  on  his  oath,  is 

*  a  thief  without  hope  of  mercy  concerning  his  fellow-thief, 
when  brought  to  the  gallows  ;  because  credible  is  his  word 
concerning  his  companions  and  the  chattels  they  thieved, 
without  a  relic  ;  and  his  companion  is  not  to  be  destroyed  on 
his  word,  but  is  to  be  a  thief  for  sale.' 

In  the  case  of  the  stealing  of  goods  entrusted  to 
a  guardian,  if  the  keys  are  safely  in  his  custody 
and  a  breach  has  been  made  into  the  house, 

*  the  Book  of  Cynog  (a  text  of  the  Laws)  says  it  is  easier  to 
believe  him  if  there  be  chattels  of  his  own  taken  together  with 
the  other  chattels  which  were  taken  by  stealth  from  him.  He 
is,  however,  to  swear  conjointly  with  all  the  persons  in  the 
house  as  to  his  being  clear  as  to  those  chattels.  If  the  soil, 
however,  be  excavated  under  the  house,  after  he  has  carried 
out  the  law  that  he  is  clear,  the  king  owns  the  soil,  and  there 
is  to  be  no  guardian  answerable  for  it.  Every  chattel  which  a 
guardian  asserts  to  have  been  brought  to  him  to  be  kept,  let 
him  make  good,  except  the  chattels  conveyed  through  the 
soil.' 

The  case  of  theft  by  a  necessitous  alien  has  been 
already  mentioned.  The  theft  of  a  king's  cat  had 
to  be  made  good  as  follows  : 

'  Whoever  shall  kill  a  cat  which  guards  a  barn  of  a  king,  or 
shall  take  it  stealthily,  its  head  is  to  be  held  downwards  on  a 
clean  level  floor,  and  its  tail  is  to  be  held  upwards ;  and  after 
that  wheat  is  to  be  poured  about  it  until  the  tip  of  the  tail  be 
hidden,  and  that  is  its  worth.  Another  cat  is  four  legal  pence 
in  value.' 

A  dog,  on  the  other  hand,  might,  according  to 
some  MSS,  be  stolen  with  impunity  : 

'  There  is  no  dirwy  for  a  dog,  although  it  be  taken  stealthily, 
nor  carnliurw.  The  oath  of  one  man  is  sufficient  to  disown  a 
dog,  for  it  is  a  back-burden  of  an  unclean  animal.' 

The  triads  in  the  Dimetian  Code,  however,  say 
that  a  dog-stealer  should  pay  a  camlwrw.  Regu- 
lations as  to  the  manner  of  bringing  a  charge  of 
theft  legally  and  of  compurgation  in  the  face  of  a 
charge  are  given  in  Wade-Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  244  f. 

A  thief  might  be  punished  by  being  sold,  and 
the  value  assigned  to  '  a  saleable  thief '  is  seven 
pounds.  In  Wade-Evans  (op.  cit.  p.  259)  are  found 
the  following  further  provisions  as  to  theft : 


'  A  thief  who  shall  be  placed  upon  sureties  is  not  to  be 
destroyed.  No  one  is  to  make  satisfaction  or  answer  for  an 
act  of  his  bondman  saving  for  theft.' 

(8)  Assault. — (a)  Irish  law  dealt  with  assault 
under  the  same  section  as  wounding  and  muti- 
lating, and  drew  a  distinction  between  a  '  red 
wound '  (with  bloodshed)  and  a  '  white  wound ' 
(without  bloodshed).  In  the  Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland 
(iii.  352  n.)  a  '  lump-blow  '  is  defined.  For  a  clean 
lump-blow  two  cows  were  an  adequate  compensa- 
tion, while  for  the  foul  lump-blow  atrer-line  (one 
of  the  lesser  fines  of  Irish  law)  was  exacted. 

(b)  Welsh  law  (Wade-Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  193) 
punishes  assault  as  follows  : 

'  Whoever  shall  strike  a  person,  let  him  pay  his  sarhad,  first 
because  attack  and  onset  constitute  a  sarhad  to  every  person  ; 
and  a  penny  for  every  hair  pulled  out  from  his  head  by  the 
root ;  and  a  penny  for  every  finger  which  shall  touch  the  head  ; 
and  twenty-four  pence  for  the  front  hair.' 
Again, 

■  If  a  person  strike  a  bondman,  let  him  pay  him  twelve 
pence  ;  ...  if  a  bondman  strike  a  free  man,  it  is  just  to  cut 
off  his  right  hand,  or  let  the  bondman's  lord  pay  the  person's 
sarhad '  lib.  p.  194). 

It  is  clearly  stated  (ib.  p.  259)  that  a  blow 
received  unintentionally  is  not  sarhad,  and  the 
following  three  buffets  did  not  need  expiation  : 
'  one  by  the  lord  on  his  man  in  ordering  him  in  the  day  of 
battle  and  fighting ;  and  one  by  a  father  on  his  son  to  punish 
him  ;  and  one  by  a  chief  of  kindred  on  his  relative  in  order  to 
counsel  him.' 

(9)  Treason. — Irish  law,  though  severe  upon 
lying,  treachery,  and  all  forms  of  deceit,  does 
not  deal  specifically  with  treason,  but  in  Welsh 
law  the  following  passage  occurs  (ib.  p.  202) : 

*  Whoever  shall  commit  treason  against  a  lord  or  waylay,  is 
to  forfeit  his  father's  trev  ;  and,  if  he  be  caught,  he  is  liable  to 
be  executed.  If  he  be  not  caught  and  he  will  to  be  reconciled 
to  his  lord  and  kindred,  a  twofold  payment  of  dirwy  and 
galanas  is  to  be  levied  on  him  ;  and,  if  he  repair  to  the  court  of 
the  Pope  and  return  with  the  Pope's  letter  with  him,  and 
show  that  he  is  absolved  by  the  Pope,  he  has  his  father's  trev 
("homestead").' 

In  Ireland,  treachery  deprived  a  person  of  his  full 
honour-priee. 

(10)  Perjury. — (a)  Irish  law  dealt  with  false 
swearing,  more  especially  in  the  case  of  con- 
tracts, and  visited  it  with  a  fine  (Anc.  Laws  of 
Ireland,  iii.  397).  False  witness  also  lowered  a 
man's  honour-price. 

(b)  Welsh  law  deals  chiefly  with  perjury  (anudon) 
in  relation  to  suspected  testimony  (see  Wade- 
Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  260  f.),  but  denial  of  suretyship 
and  contract  is  also  discussed  (ib.  p.  230). 

(11)  Insult. — (a)  In  Irish  law  the  maintenance 
of  a  man's  honour  was  a  primary  consideration, 
and  certain  fines  in  addition  to  the  dire-fine 
('honour-price')  appear  to  have  been  specially 
instituted  for  the  defence  of  personal  honour. 
Among  these  are  the  enech-gris  ('blush-fine'), 
the  enech-ruice  ('defamation  '),  and  the  enech-lann 
('  reparation  of  honour ').  To  ask  a  question  with 
a  view  to  exposing  a  blemish  (Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland, 
iii.  347),  and  to  give  a  person  a  nickname,  rendered 
the  offender  liable  to  a  fine  (op.  cit.  iii.  93),  while 
one  form  of  insult  specifically  mentioned  (op.  cit. 
iii.  409)  was  that  of  opposing  a  bishop  on  a  '  hill  of 
meeting.' 

(b)  Welsh  law  attached  the  utmost  importance 
to  the  maintenance  of  a  person's  dignity,  and  com- 
pensation for  sarhad  ( '  insult ')  plays  a  prominent 
part  therein.  The  violation  of  a  person's  pro- 
tection constituted  one  specified  form  of  insult. 

(12)  Libel. — (a)  In  Ireland  the  fort  of  a  man 
who  tolerated  satire  or  satires  (A nc.  Laws  of  Ire- 
land, v.  169)  lost  its  dire,  or  honour-price,  but  in 
another  passage  (op.  cit.  i.  59)  it  is  stated  that 
satirizing,  though  done  intentionally,  did  not 
cause  loss  of  the  full  honour-price  until  a  person 
evaded  the  law  with  respect  to  it.  Satirizing  a 
dead  person  was  also  liable  to  fine  (op.  cit.  i.  185, 
189). 

(b)  There  is  no  specific  mention  of  libel  or  satire 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Celtic) 


In  Welsh  law,  and,  in  view  of  the  practice  of  the 
Welsh  poets,  at  any  rate  after  1300,  it  would 
appear  that  satirizing  on  their  part  was  tolerated. 
At  an  earlier  date,  libel  was  probably  counted 
under  sarhad. 

(13)  Slander. — (a)  In  Ireland  the  Ancient  Laws 
(i.  175,  177)  specifically  mention  a  fine  for  slander. 
A  fine  was  also  obtainable  for  circulating  a  cal- 
umnious story  (op.  cit.  i.  195,  199),  or  for  wrong- 
fully questioning  a  person's  legitimacy  (i.  185, 
193). 

(b)  The  Welsh  laws  make  no  specific  mention  of 
slander  (enllib)  other  than  slander  against  women 
(Wade-Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  238),  or  against  an  inno- 
cent man  for  murder,  and  probably  included  other 
slander,  along  with  libel,  under  sarhad. 

(14)  Using  charms. — There  is  no  reference  to 
this  offence  in  the  Welsh  laws,  but  in  Ireland  the 
person  committing  it  was  liable  to  a  fine,  whether 
it  was  committed  against  a  human  being  or  against 
a  dog  (see  Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland,  i.  177,  181). 

(15)  Trespass. — [a)  Irish  law  in  several  passages 
defines  the  compensation  required  for  various 
forms  of  trespass,  such  as  '  dirtying  a  road '  (op. 
cit.  iii.  76  n.),  bringing  a  horse  into  the  narrow 
part  of  a  road  (ib.),  the  digging  of  a  churchyard, 
and  the  removal  of  bones  from  a  churchyard. 
The  type  of  fine  called  the  smacht-&ne  was  levied 
chiefly  in  the  case  of  trespass  by  men  or  animals 
(see  Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland,  iv.  83,  87,  89,  93,  95, 
107,  109,  111,  115,  117,  119,  121,  123,  141,  145, 
153). 

(b)  The  forms  of  trespass  which  are  specifically 
mentioned  in  the  Welsh  laws  are  :  excavating  the 
land  of  another  to  hide  anything  therein,  making 
a  snare,  digging  a  kiln-pit,  or  building  a  house  on 
another  person's  land.  The  fine  inflicted  was  four 
legal  pence,  with  certain  additions  in  particular 
cases. 

(16)  Damage  to  property. — (a)  Irish  law  had 
much  to  say  regarding  offences  arising  under  this 
head  (Anc.  Laws  of  Ireland,  i.  167,  169,  171,  175, 
185,  189,  233,  235,  237).  The  Book  of  Aicill  (op. 
cit.  iii.  357,  358)  deals  very  fully  and  humanely 
with  the  maiming,  mutilation,  and  over-working 
of  animals. 

(b)  In  Wales  all  damage  to  property,  whether 
living  or  dead,  had  to  be  compensated  for  in  ac- 
cordance with  a  scale  of  legal  worth  laid  down 
in  the  laws. 

(17)  Gross  negligence. — (a)  In  Irish  law  cases  of 
the  kind  are,  for  the  most  part,  dealt  with  under 
other  heads,  such  as  trespass  and  damage  to  pro- 
perty ;  but  the  expression  '  trespass  of  viciousness 
with  neglect '  is  used  for  the  offence  of  bringing  a 
horse  into  the  narrow  part  of  a  street.  A  fine  was 
also  inflicted  for  neglect  of  fencing.  Attendants, 
too,  were  punishable  for  not  guarding  the  houses 
of  persons  of  dignity  (op.  cit.  iii.  511),  and  a  similar 
penalty  was  inflicted  for  neglect  in  not  guarding  a 
captive  (iii.  499  f. ).  A  judge  who  was  negligent 
was  liable  to  a  fine  (iii.  305),  and  so  were  sane 
adults  for  not  guarding  the  insane.  The  Irish 
believed  that  blotches  arose  on  the  cheeks  of 
judges  who  pronounced  false  judgment. 

(b)  The  two  instances  of  punishable  neglect 
mentioned  in  Welsh  law  are  the  following  (Wade- 
Evans,  op.  cit.  258,  268)  : 

(1)  If  two  per9ons  shall  be  walking  through  a  wood,  and  the 
one  in  front  let  a  bough  strike  the  one  in  the  rear  so  that  he 
loses  an  eye,  he  is  to  pay  the  worth  of  an  eye  to  the  other. 

(2)  If  a  spear  were  not  so  placed  as  to  prevent  its  point  from 
accidentally  killing  a  person,  its  owner,  in  case  of  such  a  death, 
had  to  pay  a  third  of  the  slain  person's  galanas. 

(18)  Absconding  and  harbouring  a  fugitive. — 
(a)  It  was  an  offence  in  Irish  law  to  entertain  a 
fugitive  who  was  known,  and  there  was  also  a 
penalty  for  supporting  and  advising  the  women 
and  children  of  foreigners,  as  well  as  for  feeding 


or  sheltering  a  stranger  generally  (Anc.  Laws  of 
Ireland,  iii.  385,  387,  389).  In  the  same  manner  a 
Derson  feeding  a  houseless  person  was  liable  to  a 
fine,  the  intention  in  all  these  cases  doubtless 
being  to  make  it  difficult  for  persons  to  escape 
from  justice. 

(6)  In  Wales  the  law  (see  above,  p.  265")  appears 
to  have  been  a  little  more  sympathetic  towards 
necessitous  aliens,  and  Welsh  law  also  provided 
that  an  alien  of  foreign  speech  should  have  an 
advocate. 

(19)  Abduction. — (a)  Irish  law  (op.  cit.  iii.  403, 
541,  543,  545)  deals  very  fully  with  the  question 
of  abduction  in  its  effects  upon  family  life.  The 
children  of  the  abducted  woman  belonged  to  her 
mother's  family,  and  might  be  sold  by  them,  but 
the  father  was  bound  to  buy  them  if  they  were 
sold,  and  if  he  got  them  gratis  he  was  bound  to 
educate  them. 

(b)  Abduction  was  a  punishable  offence  in  Welsh 
law,  and  the  various  contingencies  which  arose  in 
connexion  therewith  are  fully  dealt  with  in  the 
Laws  (see  Anc.  Laws  of  Wales,  pp.  86,  88,  92, 
204  ;  and  Wade-Evans,  op.  cit.  pp.  237,  238,  239). 

(20)  Stripping  of  the  dead. — In  Ireland  there 
was  a  fine  for  stripping  the  dead  in  general,  and 
the  slain  in  battle  in  particular  (see  Anc.  Laws  of 
Ireland,  i.  175,  177) ;  and  a  Welsh  legal  triad 
speaks  of  the  '  three  disgraces  of  a  dead  body ' — 
when  it  is  slain,  when  it  is  stripped,  and  when  it 
is  left  lying. 

(21)  Breach  of  the  peace. — The  Welsh  laws  con- 
tain no  explicit  references  to  offences  under  this 
head ;  but  Irish  law  (op.  cit.  i.  231,  235)  required  a 
fine  for  quarrelling  in  an  ale-house,  and  also  for 
disturbing  a  fair. 

(22)  Adultery. — It  is  probable  that  in  Irish  law 
adultery  should  be  counted  with  the  above  offences, 
but  the  absence  of  a  clear  distinction  in  Irish  law 
between  crimes  and  torts  makes  it  difficult  to  class 
adultery  with  crimes,  as  was  done  in  some  coun- 
tries. In  its  effect  upon  the  honour-price  of  a 
person,  adultery,  according  to  the  Anc.  Laws  of 
Ireland  (i.  57-61),  was  more  disastrous  for  ecclesi- 
astics than  for  laymen  ;  but,  in  the  case  of  all 
alike,  adultery  and.  cohabiting  with  a  kinswoman 
had  the  same  effect  upon  the  honour-price  as  un- 
faithfulness in  word  (op.  cit.  i.  59).  In  the  case 
of  adultery  by  a  married  man  the  Welsh  laws 
require  (Wade-Evans,  op.  cit.  p.  239)  that  he 
should  pay  six  score  pence  to  his  lawful  wife  as  her 
wynebwerth  ('compensation  for  insult').  When 
a  wife  committed  adultery,  her  husband  was 
entitled  to  thrice  the  sum  of  his  sarhad  (ib.  p. 
242),  and  it  is  further  stated  (ib.  p.  244)  that  she 
loses  her  agweddi  ('dowry'),  while  her  chattels 
are  brought  by  her  kindred  to  her  husband.  One 
of  the  three  disgraces  of  a  kindred,  according  to  a 
Welsh  legal  triad,  is  to  bring  another  woman  to 
the  house,  supplanting  the  wife  and  driving  her 
forth. 

In  the  present  article  Celtic  crimes  and  punish- 
ments have  been  considered  chiefly  with  reference 
to  Ireland  and  Wales,  owing  to  the  fact  that  it  is 
only  for  these  countries  that  legal  treatises  of  the 
type  here  considered  are  obtainable.  In  Celtic 
Scotland  the  law  was  based  upon  a  development 
of  the  same  ideas  as  those  which  are  embodied  in 
the  law  of  Ireland.  The  legal  practice  of  Brittany 
and  Cornwall,  too,  doubtless  closely  resembled 
that  of  Wales  ;  but  it  would  be  highly  interesting, 
if  it  were  possible,  to  know  what  modifications  of 
the  Irish  system  were  developed  in  Scotland,  and, 
similarly,  what  local  variations  of  the  British 
system  arose  in  Cornwall  and  Brittany.  In  the 
absence  of  legal  treatises  such  an  inquiry  would 
have  to  be  based  mainly  on  historical  and  linguistic 
evidence. 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Chinese) 


269 


Literature. — Ancient  Laws  and  Institutes  of  Wales,  ed. 
Aneurin  Owen  (Rolls  Series,  London,  1841) ;  Wade-Evans, 
Welsh  Medieval  Law  (Oxford,  1909) ;  The  Ancient  Laws  of  Ire- 
land (Rolls  Series,  London,  1869-1873) ;  W.  F.  Skene,  Celtic 
Scotland  2  (Edinburgh,  1890).  E.  ANWYL. 

CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Chinese). 
—The  Chinese  character  for  'crime'  is  significant 
of  the  attitude  of  the  nation  towards  the  infrac- 
tion of  law,  being  composed  of  the  radical  for 
'  failure,'  under  that  for  '  net,'  representing  the  net 
of  the  law  descending  upon  the  offender  ;  in  other 
words,  '  crime '  or  '  sin '  (for  the  terms  are  used 
interchangeably)  is  regarded  as  consisting  not  so 
much  in  the  commission  of  a  condemnable  act  as  in 
the  discovery  of  the  fact  and  the  infliction  of  penal 
consequences.  For  this  reason  the  term  is  an  un- 
fortunate one  when  applied  by  Christian  mission- 
aries to  a  Chinese  audience,  for  the  majority  of 
those  thus  addressed  would  strongly  object  to  be 
denominated  'criminals,'  although  the  intention  in 
the  mind  of  the  speaker  is  merely  to  bring  home  to 
them  a  sense  of  sin. 

i.  Early  enactments. — The  Chinese  penal  code 
is  based  upon  enactments  for  which  a  remote 
antiquity  is  claimed,  and  the  earliest  system  of 
punishments  is  ascribed  to  the  '  Emperor '  Shun 
(2255  B.C.),  who  is  said  to  have  established  the 
'  Five  Punishments '  which  were  in  vogue  to  the 
end  of  the  Chow  dynasty  (255  B.C.),  viz.  (1)  brand- 
ing on  the  forehead,  (2)  cutting  off  the  nose,  (3) 
maiming,  (4)  castration,  and  (5)  death. 

The  founder  of  the  Han  dynasty  (202  B.C.) 
enacted  the  'Three  Penal  Sentences,'  viz.  (1)  life 
shall  be  given  for  life,  (2)  compensation  for  wounds, 
and  (3)  imprisonment  for  robbery. 

The  first  regular  code  of  penal  laws  is  repre- 
sented as  being  brought  into  operation  in  the  Ts'in 
dynasty  (249  B.C.),  comprehended  under  six  heads, 
the  5th  of  which,  represented  by  11  vols.,  is  occu- 
pied with  criminal  laws  concerning  treason,  robbery, 
theft,  homicide,  criminal  intercourse,  disturbing 
graves,  quarrelling  and  fighting,  and  incendiarism  ; 
and,  though  each  succeeding  dynasty  has  contri- 
buted some  modification  or  addition  to  the  original 
enactments,  the  ultimate  source  of  inspiration  may 
still  be  traced  even  in  the  existing  legislation. 

The  laws  of  the  present  Manchu  dynasty,  which 
in  China  bears  the  name  of  the  Ta  Ts'ing,  or 
'  Great  Pure  Dynasty,'  may  be  grouped  as  follows  : 
—(1)  The  Ta  Ts'ing  Lu  Li,  or  'Penal  Code  of  the 
Ta  Ts'ing  dynasty,'  which  is  subject  to  revision 
every  5  years.  The  sections  included  under  the 
first  term,  Lu,  may  be  described  as  the  original 
laws  or  statutes  ;  and  those  under  the  second  head, 
Li,  as  the  supplementary  clauses,  or  common  law, 
established  by  precedent  or  usage.  (2)  The  Ta 
Ts'ing  Hui  Tien,  or  '  Regulations  of  the  Ta  Ts'ing 
dynasty.'  (3)  The  edicts  and  decrees  issued  by 
Emperors  and  high  provincial  officials.  (4)  Cus- 
tomary law. 

The  first  of  these,  the  Lu  Li,  is  comprehended 
in  2906  octavo  pages,  the  criminal  laws  being 
enumerated  in  the  6th  division,  arranged  under 
the  following  heads :  (1)  robbery  and  theft,  (2) 
homicide,  (3)  quarrelling  and  fighting,  (4)  abusive 
language,  (5)  indictments  and  informations,  (6) 
bribery  and  corruption,  (7)  forgeries  and  frauds, 
(8)  incest  and  adultery,  (9)  miscellaneous  offences, 
(10)  arrests  and  escapes,  and  (11)  imprisonment, 
judgment,  and  execution. 

2.  Punishments. — The  modes  of  punishment 
which  are  recognized  by  the  code  are  five  : 

(1)  Flogging  on  the  thighs  with  a  light  bamboo 
cane,  about  3  ft.  6  in.  long  by  f  in.  wide,  and  jV  in. 
thick  at  the  end.  The  punishment  admits  of  5 
degrees  of  severity,  nominally  from  10  to  50  blows  ; 
but  in  actual  practice  only  4,  5,  10,  15,  and  20 
blows  respectively  are  administered. 


(2)  Flogging  with  a  heavier  cane  of  bamboo, 
about  3  ft.  6  in.  by  14  in.  by  J  in.,  in  cases  of 
greater  gravity,  the  number  of  blows  ranging  from 
60  to  100  nominally,  but  reduced  in  universal 
practice  to  20,  25,  30,  35,  and  40  respectively. 
Manchu  subjects,  or  'Bannermen,'  are  punished 
with  a  whip  instead  of  the  bamboo. 

In  administering  the  punishment  the  lictors  are 
so  expert  that  they  can  apply  1000  sounding  blows 
to  the  bare  flesh  without  raising  a  blister,  or  draw 
blood  if  required  with  three  strokes,  and  actually 
make  the  flesh  fly  if  they  set  themselves  seriously 
to  work.  (This  is  done  by  the  '  dragging '  stroke, 
which  is  different  from  the  usual  up-and-down 
method ;  the  cane  when  it  reaches  the  flesh  is 
drawn  back  along  the  surface,  and  in  a  short  time 
the  skin  is  literally  torn  off  in  strips.)  This  skill 
in  applying  the  bamboo  is  said  to  be  attained  by 
long  practice  on  a  block  of  bean-curd,  a  substance 
resembling  a  stiff  custard,  the  beaters  kneeling 
face  to  face,  and  striking  alternately  on  the  bean- 
curd  which  is  placed  on  the  ground  between  them. 
When  they  have  learned  to  strike  the  substance  a 
great  many  times,  producing  an  appreciable  '  note ' 
each  time,  without  breaking  the  delicate  surface 
of  the  '  custard,'  they  are  supposed  to  be  proficient, 
and  are  allowed  to  exercise  their  art  on  the  un- 
fortunate human  beings  who  may  be  surrendered 
to  them.  Another  power  which  they  must  culti- 
vate is  that  of  counting  alternate  numbers  at  a 
great  rate  whilst  administering  the  strokes ;  the 
man  kneeling  on  one  knee  at  one  side  of  the  victim 
calls  out  the  odd  numbers,  whilst  the  other  counts 
the  even  numbers,  and  this  requires  long  and  fre- 
quent rehearsal ;  it  also  presents  an  opportunity 
for  '  sharp  practice,'  for  the  number  called  does  not 
necessarily  correspond  with  the  blows  struck  ;  and 
it  is  very  easy  for  skilful  performers  to  run  up 
a  very  large  total  of  figures  without  applying  an 
equal  number  of  strokes.  Thus  a  man  condemned 
to  receive  1000  strokes  may  be  let  off  with  700  or 
so  if  he  has  a  proper  understanding  with  the  lictors, 
though  the  full  number  is  reported  by  them  viva 
voce  at  the  time  of  imposition.  The  rod  is  steeped 
for  some  months  in  a  saline  bath  before  it  is  con- 
sidered fit  for  use,  as  this  is  said  to  ensure  that 
mortification  will  not  set  in  when  the  flesh  is 
lacerated  ;  it  no  doubt  also  increases  the  sufferings 
of  the  victim. 

(3)  Banishment,  for  a  limited  period,  to  a  dis- 
tance not  exceeding  500  li  (  =  170  miles).  Here 
again  5  degrees  are  admitted,  viz.  1  year  and  60 
blows,  1J  years  and  70  blows,  2  years  and  80  blows, 
1\  years  and  90  blows,  3  years  and  100  blows. 

(4)  Transportation,  for  life,  to  any  distance  vary- 
ing from  2000  to  3000  li  ( =  1000  miles),  with  100 
blows ;  in  extraordinary  cases  the  distance  is  in- 
creased to  4000  li,  or  the  criminals  are  condemned 
to  reside  in  malarious  or  savage  districts.  The 
exiles  are  nominally  required  to  render  military 
service,  but  are  usually  permitted  to  engage  in 
humble  occupations,  such  as  the  managing  of  in- 
ferior pawn-shops,  etc.  The  wives  of  criminals  are 
expected  to  accompany  their  husbands  into  exile, 
and  their  children  and  other  relatives  may  do  so  if 
willing.  Bannermen  are  subjected  to  the  'cangue' 
(see  below)  in  lieu  of  banishment. 

(5)  Death  by  strangulation,  decapitation,  or  the 
so-called  'lingering-process.'  The  death  sentence 
is  usually  confirmed  by  the  Emperor  ;  but  in  cases 
of  murder,  piracy  or  highway  robbery,  rebellion, 
uttering  false  coin,  forging  official  seals,  arson, 
robbery  with  violence,  criminal  assault  on  girls 
under  12  years  of  age,  fraudulent  methods  at 
public  examinations,  or  smuggling  salt,  the  local 
authority  is  empowered  to  put  the  sentence  into 
execution  at  once,  unless  extenuating  circum- 
stances can  be  urged  for  delay.     In  cases  of  piracy, 


270 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Chinese) 


highway  robbery,  etc.,  the  criminals  are  decapi- 
tated, and  their  heads  exposed  over  the  city  gates 
as  a  warning  to  all. 

(as)  Strangulation. — The  penalty  of  strangula- 
tion is  inflicted  in  the  cases  of  murder  of  a  stepson 
by  a  stepmother,  abuse  of  parents  or  paternal 
grandparents,  abuse  of  husbands'  parents  or  grand- 
parents ;  also  in  certain  cases  of  homicide  where 
premeditation  is  not  alleged,  or  where  death  is 
brought  about  by  indirect  means ;  also  in  cases 
of  opening  coffins  and  rifling  the  dead,  refusing  to 
pay  tribute,  or  inciting  to  riot.  In  extreme  cases 
the  process  is  aggravated  by  the  method  known  as 
'  three  strangulations  and  three  recoveries, '  which 
means  that  the  victim  is  throttled  into  unconscious- 
ness three  times,  and  restored  to  animation  before 
the  final  garrotting  takes  place.  In  some  instances 
high  officials  who  have  offended  are  presented  by 
the  Emperor  with  a  silken  scarf,  with  which  they 
are  expected  to  strangle  themselves  in  lieu  of 
the  heavier  and  more  disgraceful  punishment  of 
decollation. 

(6)  Decapitation. — Decapitation  is  the  penalty 
inflicted  in  the  case  of  a  large  number  of  offences, 
especially  those  of  a  treasonable  nature — a  classifi- 
cation which  includes :  (1)  rebellion,  (2)  disloyalty 
(as,  e.g.,  destroying  or  attacking  the  Imperial 
tombs,  palaces,  etc.),  (3)  desertion,  (4)  parricide, 
(5)  massacre  (i.e.  where  three  or  more  persons  are 
killed),  (6)  sacrilege,  (7)  impiety,  (8)  discord,  and 
(9)  insubordination.  The  treasonable  character  of 
these  offences  consists  in  their  being  hurtful  to  the 
Sovereign  either  in  his  person,  his  property,  or  his 
honour,  or  the  persons  and  property  of  his  subjects. 
The  principal  offenders  are  sometimes  sentenced  to 
the  ling  ch  i. 

(c)  The  ling  cKi. — The  third  form  of  capital 
punishment,  i.e.  the  ling  cKi,  or  'lingering  process,' 
which  is  popularly  supposed  to  consist  in  an  in- 
definite number  of  cuts  inflicted  on  the  victim's 
body,  before  the  administration  of  the  coup  de  gr&ce, 
does  not  amount,  in  ordinary  cases,  to  more  than  a 
few  slashes  on  the  face  and  body  before  the  final 
blow  is  struck.  It  is  intended  to  make  the  death 
process  more  lingering  and  shameful,  as  the  words 
ling  cKi  mean  ;  but  the  degree  of  aggravation  of 
the  penalty  is  left  very  much  in  the  hands  of  the 
executioner.  The  lingering  process  is  ordered  in 
the  case  of  treason  against  the  Imperial  person, 
palaces,  or  tombs,  no  distinction  being  made  be- 
tween principal  and  accessaries ;  also  in  the  case 
of  parricide,  murder  of  a  husband,  etc. 

(d)  The  death  cage. — Another  form  of  capital 
punishment  is  the  '  standing  cage,'  which  consists 
of  a  tall  frame  or  coop,  in  which  the  victim  is 
placed,  the  floor  being  a  foot  or  so  from  the 
ground.  His  neck  is  enclosed  by  the  bars  which 
form  the  top  or  lid  of  the  cage.  In  this  position 
he  is  unable  to  touch  the  floor  with  his  feet,  but  a 
number  of  bricks  are  inserted  upon  which  he  is 
permitted  to  stand,  and  these  are  gradually  re- 
moved until  at  last  he  is  practically  suspended  by 
the  neck,  unless  death  intervenes,  as  generally 
happens,  the  process  being  hastened  by  the  admini- 
stration of  an  opiate  supplied  by  a  relative  or 
friend.  Victims  of  this  form  of  punishment  have 
been  known  to  survive  four  days  of  torture,  even 
when  exposed  to  the  burning  rays  of  the  summer 
sun. 

(6)  The  cangue.  A  minor  form  of  punishment 
which  is  recognized  by  the  Li,  or  '  supplementary 
laws,'  is  that  of  the  'great  collar,'  or  'wooden 
neck-tie,'  as  it  is  nicknamed,  generally  known 
amongst  Europeans  as  the  'cangue'  (from  the 
Portuguese  canga  =  yoke).  It  consists  of  a  heavy 
wooden  framework  in  two  parts,  through  which 
the  head  of  the  victim  is  introduced  by  means  of 
a  scallop  on  the  inner  edges  of  each  ;  the  two  parts 


are  then  brought  together  and  fastened  in  position 
upon  the  wearer's  shoulders,  and  an  inscription  is 
added  stating  the  nature  of  the  crime  committed, 
etc.  The  weight  of  the  cangue  is  generally  from 
20  to  30  lbs.,  but  larger  frames  are  sometimes  used, 
in  which  as  many  as  live  men  can  be  secured.  In 
some  cases  the  hands  of  the  sufferer  are  also  in- 
serted in  smaller  holes  as  in  a  pillory.  In  either 
instance  it  is  impossible  to  reach  the  mouth  with 
the  hands,  and  the  prisoner  has  to  be  fed  by  others. 
The  cangue  is  generally  exhibited  in  the  daytime 
at  the  spot  where  the  offence  was  committed,  and 
at  night  the  bearer  of  it  is  removed  to  the  prison, 
where,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  he  is  relieved  of 
his  burden  until  the  next  day.  The  imposition  of 
the  cangue  may  cover  a  period  of  a  few  days  or 
may  continue  for  three  months,  and  is  ordered  in 
cases  of  stealing,  gambling,  damage,  extortion,  etc. 
(7)  Branding  is  also  in  vogue  in  cases  of  steal- 
ing, and  the  designation  of  the  crime  is  indelibly 
stamped  upon  the  forearm,  e.g.  '  Stealer  of  grain,' 
'  stores,'  or  '  silver,'  as  the  case  may  be. 

3.  Methods  of  Chinese  thieves. — Chinese  thieves 
are  divided  into  various  classes,  whose  methods 
differ  very  considerably  ;  for  instance,  in  order  to 
obtain  entrance  to  a  building,  some  elect  to  prise 
open  the  window  or  doors,  or  lift  them  off  the 
hooks  which  do  duty  for  hinges,  while  others  prefer 
to  throw  a  rope,  with  grapplers  attached,  to  the 
balcony  or  roof,  and  climb  up  hand  over  hand ; 
others  drill  holes  in  doors  with  the  usual  carpenters' 
instruments,  or  burn  out  a  piece  of  the  woodwork 
by  means  of  a  blow-pipe  and  a  brazier  of  lighted 
charcoal,  so  as  to  insert  the  hand  and  withdraw 
bolts  and  fastenings ;  others,  again,  employ  a 
bamboo  pole  for  vaulting  or  scaling  walls ;  anaes- 
thetics are  used  by  some  thieves  for  rendering  the 
occupants  of  a  house  unconscious  ;  holes  are  also 
bored  in  walls,  or  subterranean  tunnels  are  made 
by  experts  in  these  departments. 

The  '  swift-horse,'  or  constable  (see  below),  being 
himself  an  ex-thief,  is  familiar  with  the  methods 
of  the  several  classes,  and  the  individuals  composing 
them  ;  and  can  always  diagnose  with  accuracy  the 
cases  which  are  submitted  to  him. 

4.  Punishment  of  women.  —Special  punishments 
are  reserved  for  women,  such  as  piercing  the  breast 
with  a  hot  iron,  in  the  case  of  attempts  on  the  life 
of  a  husband,  assaulting  a  mother-in-law,  etc. 
When  the  bamboo  is  ordered,  the  blows  are  usually 
inflicted  on  the  mouth  or  hands,  in  order  to  avoid 
exposure  of  the  body. 

5.  Martial  law. — Martial  law  is  particularly 
severe,  and  summary  punishment  is  meted  out  to 
offending  soldiers  by  their  officers.  In  ancient 
days  the  penalty  of  tearing  asunder  by  five  horses 
was  exacted  in  certain  cases  ;  even  now  the  death 
penalty  is  prescribed  for  such  offences  as  circulating 
false  rumours,  attempted  rape,  etc. 

6.  Character  of  enactments. — The  punishments 
above  enumerated  may  seem  to  be  exceedingly 
severe,  but  it  must  be  remembered  that,  until 
quite  recent  years,  there  was  no  police  force  of 
any  kind  in  China,. the  only  substitute  being  the 
local  beadle,  or  tipao,  in  each  district  or  division, 
with  his  subordinates,  including  the  '  swift-horse,' 
or  thief -catcher  ;  and  the  result  of  long  experience 
was  the  conviction  that  severity,  at  all  events  in 
the  promulgation  of  the  law,  was  necessary, 
though  its  application  might  be  tempered  with 
mercy ;  and  the  Chinese  penal  code,  though  it 
may  not  satisfy  the  high  ideals  of  20th  century 
Christianity  on  the  score  of  justice  and  equity, 
'for  the  repression  of  disorder,  and  the  gentle 
coercion  of  a  vast  population,  appears  to  be  equally 
mild  and  efficacious  '  (G.  T.  Staunton,  The  Ta  Tsiny 
Leu  Lee). 

7.  The  conduct  of  law.— The  almost  total  absence 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Chinese) 


271 


of  legal  machinery  is  another  feature  which  is 
worthy  of  notice.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  the 
empanelling  of  a  jury  ;  no  assistance  of  counsel  for 
the  prosecution  or  the  defence ;  no  association  of 
judges  on  the  bench  ;  no  demand  for  asseveration 
upon  oath.  The  magistrate  sits  alone  to  try  the 
case,  unless  he  decides  upon  inviting  another 
magistrate  to  assist  him.  The  cases  for  and 
against  are  prepared  by  self-constituted  lawyers,  a 
somewhat  degraded  class  of  literary  men,  who  do 
not  appear  in  person  before  the  court.  The  magis- 
trate is  furnished  by  his  secretaries  with  whatever 
information  he  may  require  as  to  law  or  precedent, 
and  decision  is  given,  ordinarily,  without  long 
delay.  The  accused  cannot  be  punished  until  he 
confesses  his  crime  ;  and,  should  he  hesitate  to  do 
so,  the  means  are  available  by  which  such  con- 
fession may  be  elicited.  Some  of  these  methods 
have  the  sanction  of  law,  whilst  others  are  en- 
forced without  such  authority.  The  legal  instru- 
ments of  torture  consist  of  wooden  presses  for 
squeezing  the  ankles  or  fingers,  and  the  Dastinado  ; 
in  addition  to  these,  however,  there  are  many 
others  which  have  been  in  force  until  quite  recently, 
but  which  have  now  been  nominally  abolished — 
such  as  forcing  the  victim  to  kneel  upon  hot  bricks, 
iron  chains,  powdered  glass,  sand,  or  salt ;  twisting 
the  ears ;  suspending  the  body  by  the  thumbs  or 
fingers  ;  tying  the  hands  to  a  bar  placed  under  the 
knees,  so  as  to  bend  the  body  forward  in  a  kneeling 
posture,  etc. 

8.  Popular  courts. — So  great  is  the  terror  in- 
spired by  the  law-courts  and  the  'pens'  which  do 
duty  for  prisons  (the  Chinese  word  for  prison 
means  originally  a  'corral,'  or  stable  for  cattle), 
that  many  people  prefer  to  settle  their  cases  out  of 
court,  by  resorting  to  the  '  tea-houses,'  which  are 
the  equivalents  of  our  public-houses,  and  sub- 
mitting the  question  to  the  arbitration  of  those 
present — the  nearest  approach  to  trial  by  jury; 
and  the  practice  has  become  so  well  established 
that  these  tea-houses  are  often  called  '  Little  Halls 
of  Justice.' 

9.  Standard  of  guilt. — An  interesting  feature  of 
the  Chinese  enactments  is  that  the  standard  of 
punishment,  in  many  cases,  is  not  measured  by 
the  character  of  the  offence,  but  by  the  amount  of 
profit  secured  by  the  offender ;  the  penalty,  for 
instance,  of  stealing  120  oz.  or  more  of  silver  is  out 
of  all  proportion  to  that  which  is  incurred  by 
stealing  1  oz. ;  it  is  assessed  on  a  scale  indeed  which 
would  seem  to  place  the  act  in  an  entirely  different 
category  of  crime,  for  the  latter  is  punished  by  60 
blows,  the  former  by  strangulation. 

10.  Treason. — The  punishment  of  treason  is 
particularly  severe,  and  the  list  of  crimes  which 
are  classified  as  treasonable  is  very  comprehensive. 
The  penalty  of  making  even  an  attempt  against 
the  persons,  palaces,  or  tombs  of  the  Imperial 
house  is  execution  by  the  lingering  process,  and  no 
distinction  is  made  between  principals  and  acces- 
saries (though  in  ordinary  cases  of  crime  a  careful 
discrimination  is  made,  and  accessaries  before  the 
fact  are  punished  one  degree  less  severely  than  the 
principals).  All  male  relatives  of  the  condemned, 
in  the  first  degree,  i.e.  father,  grandfather,  sons, 
grandsons,  paternal  uncles  and  their  sons  of  the 
age  of  15  or  older,  are  sentenced  to  decapitation, 
together  with  all  other  male  relatives,  within  the 
same  limit  of  age,  who  may  be  living  with  the 
offender  at  the  time.  Male  relatives  of  the  first 
degree  under  the  age  of  15,  and  all  females  simi- 
larly related,  are  distributed  as  slaves  amongst 
the  great  officials.  The  property  of  the  condemned 
is  confiscated  by  the  State.  All  who  renounce 
country  and  allegiance  are  liable  to  decapitation. 

11.  Homicide. — The  definition  of  homicide  is 
also  very  comprehensive,  no  fewer  than  10  possible 


cases  being  included  under  the  term,  viz.  (1) 
killing  with  deliberate  intent,  the  penalty  of  which 
is  decapitation ;  (2)  killing  in  an  affray,  where 
perhaps  no  special  individual  is  singled  out  for 
slaughter  (the  punishment  in  these  cases  is  strangu- 
lation) ;  (3)  killing  by  depriving  of  food  or  clothing, 
by  the  removal  of  the  ladder  by  which  the  victim 
has  reached  an  inaccessible  position  and  is  unable 
to  return,  by  taking  the  bridle  from  a  rider's 
horse  so  that  he  cannot  continue  his  journey  and 
is  stranded  in  the  wilds,  by  the  administration  of 
noxious  substances  to  the  mouth,  eyes,  ears,  etc. 
(in  such  cases  strangulation  is  decreed) ;  (4)  kill- 
ing by  means  of  dangerous  weapons,  such  as  fire- 
arms, etc.,  though  used  only  in  play  ;  by  luring  a 
person  into  danger  by  false  representations,  e.g. 
leading  a  man  to  walk  into  deep  water,  assuring 
him  that  it  is  shallow  and  fordable  (strangulation 
is  the  penalty  in  these  cases  also) ;  (5)  killing  a 
person  by  mistake  when  intending  to  kill  some  one 
else  (the  penalty  for  this  offence  is  beheading) ; 
(6)  killing  accidentally  when  using  legitimate 
instruments  or  weapons  (compensation  is  deemed 
sufficient  in  such  cases) ;  (7)  killing  through  care- 
lessness (punished  by  beheading) ;  (8)  killing  by 
the  administration  of  improper  medicines  (punish- 
able by  beheading,  but,  if  inadvertence  can  be 
urged  in  defence,  compensation  and  retirement 
from  medical  practice  are  ordered) ;  (9)  killing  by 
means  of  traps  and  snares  (punishable  by  blows 
and  banishment) ;  (10)  killing  by  the  utterance  of 
threats  which  lead  to  suicide  on  the  part  of  the 
threatened  person  (punished  by  strangulation). 

The  removal  of  a  body  from  the  spot  where  the 
murder  has  been  committed  is  treated  as  a  capital 
offence.  In  cases  of  injury  produced  in  fighting 
and  quarrelling,  a  careful  assessment  is  made  of 
the  amount  of  damage  done  ;  e.g.,  the  tearing 
away  of  one  inch  of  the  opponent's  hair  is  punish- 
able by  50  blows,  the  breaking  of  one  tooth  by 
100  blows,  of  two  teeth  by  60  blows  and  a  year's 
imprisonment.  Causing  a  person  to  be  incapable 
of  becoming  a  parent  is  punished  by  100  blows  and 
banishment  to  a  distance  of  3000  li,  and,  in  the 
case  of  male  offenders,  with  forfeiture  of  estates. 

12.  Privileged  classes. — There  are  no  fewer  than 
ten  instances  where  privilege  is  claimed,  as  in  the 
case  of  those  enjoying  hereditary  rank,  or  high 
office,  or  relationship  to  the  reigning  dynasty. 
These  classes  are  excepted  from  the  ordinary  pro- 
cesses of  law,  and  the  Imperial  sanction  must  be 
obtained  before  the  law  can  be  put  into  operation 
against  them.  No  privilege,  however,  of  whatever 
kind  can  avail  in  a  case  of  treason.  The  circum- 
stances of  the  accused,  in  ordinary  cases,  are 
taken  into  account :  as,  e.g.,  extreme  youth,  i.e. 
under  the  age  of  15  years  ;  or  extreme  age,  i.e.  70 
years  and  upwards ;  infirmity,  too,  is  recognized 
as  an  occasion  for  the  exercise  of  lenity  and  the 
relaxation  of  the  heavier  penalties,  with  exemption 
from  torture.  The  condition  of  the  parents  of  the 
accused  is  also  taken  into  account,  and  an  erring 
son  is  mercifully  dealt  with  if  it  be  shown  that 
his  parents  depend  upon  him  for  support ;  even 
the  death  penalty  may  be  remitted  in  the  case  of 
an  only  son,  lest  his  parents  should  be  deprived 
of  the  worship  which  is  expected  from  him  after 
their  decease. 

13.  Favourable  treatment  of  women. — Women 
are  seldom  imprisoned,  except  on  capital  charges, 
or  for  adultery,  but  are  placed  in  the  custody  of 
their  nearest  relatives ;  and,  if  they  are  arrested 
when  in  a  pregnant  condition,  the  full  penalty  of 
the  law  is  not  exacted  until  100  days  have  passed 
after  parturition.  Injured  husbands  are  permitted 
to  kill,  out  of  hand,  the  guilty  wife  ana  her  par- 
amour, if  discovered  in  flagrante  delicto  ;  but,  if  the 
parties  have  already  left  the  apartment  where  the 


272 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Egyptian) 


act  was  committed,  or  surrender  themselves  to  the 
husband,  or  some  little  time  has  elapsed  since  the 
event,  the  husband  is  not  justified  by  law  in  exact- 
ing the  extreme  penalty.  A  master  who  is  accused 
of  killing  a  slave  is  not  regarded  as  guilty  of  a 
capital  offence,  but  a  slave  who  murders  his  master 
is  sentenced  to  ling  ch'i  as  guilty  of  petty  treason. 

14.  Patria  potestas. — The  patria  potestas  is 
still  in  force  in  China,  and  the  slaughter  of  one's 
offspring  is  dealt  with  as  a  minor  offence,  or  indeed 
as  no  offence  at  all,  if,  for  instance,  a  parent 
has  been  struck  by  a  son  or  daughter.  The  law 
decrees  that  the  penalty  for  striking  or  cursing  a 
parent  is  death,  as  was  the  case  with  the  Hebrews. 

15.  Professional  bullies.— The  killing  of  a  pro- 
fessional pugilist,  or  'strong  man,'  is  not  regarded 
as  murder,  on  the  ground  that  such  persons  volun- 
tarily subject  themselves  to  danger  and  death, 
and  must  be  prepared  to  take  the  consequences  of 
their  rashness. 

16.  The  law  of  debt.— In  cases  of  debt  a  stated 
period  is  allowed  by  law  for  repayment,  viz.  three 
months  after  the  expiry  of  the  time  stipulated  in 
the  original  arrangement  between  the  parties.  In 
the  event  of  this  period  of  grace  being  allowed  to 
elapse,  the  debtor  is  liable  to  the  bastinado.  In 
some  cases  the  creditor  will  take  up  his  quarters  at 
the  house  of  the  debtor,  and  continue  to  live  at 
his  expense  until  the  debt  is  discharged.  The  fear 
of  being  unable  to  meet  one's  obligations  before 
the  Chinese  New  Year  causes  many  suicides  to 
take  place  at  that  season. 

17.  Bad  company. — Amongst  miscellaneous  en- 
actments it  is  worthy  of  notice  that  the  sons  of 
families  enjoying  hereditary  rank,  and  officers  of 
government,  are  prohibited  from  associating  with 
prostitutes  and  actors,  under  penalty  of  60  blows. 

18.  Treatment  of  domestic  animals. — Special 
laws  are  enacted  with  a  view  to  the  proper  treat- 
ment of  domestic  animals;  e.g.,  when  draught 
animals  are  improperly  harnessed,  and  sores  are 
thus  produced  on  the  back  or  withers,  the  penalty 
of  such  carelessness  is  20  to  50  blows.  Similar 
penalties  are  imposed  in  cases  of  insufficient  feed- 
ing, etc. 

19.  Care  of  the  young. — Amongst  the  laws  relat- 
ing to  the  care  of  the  young,  it  may  be  noted  that 
the  'age  of  consent'  in  China  is  12  years  in  the 
case  of  both  boys  and  girls,  and  that  a  recent  edict 
decreed  that  smoking  on  the  part  of  boys  under 
18  was  a  punishable  offence. 

20.  Improper  conduct. — The  comprehensiveness 
of  the  Chinese  penal  code  is  remarkable  ;  there  is 
hardly  a  circumstance  connected  with  law  and  its 
infraction  for  which  provision  is  not  made  ;  and  a 
large  liberty  is  extended  to  judges  in  the  treat- 
ment of  what  is  described  as  '  improper  conduct ' 
— an  expression  which  is  interpreted  to  mean 
offences  against  the  spirit  of  the  laws,  though  not 
necessarily  involving  an  actual  breach  of  the  letter 
thereof. 

21.  Lynch  law. — In  addition  to  the  ordinary 
legislation  there  are  many  unorthodox  methods  in 
practice  amongst  the  people  in  country  districts. 
Lynch  law  is  very  common,  and  the  treatment  of 
crime  by  the  people  themselves  often  induces 
cruelties  which  fully  deserve  the  designation  of 
'savage.'  Theft  is  severely  punished,  as  are  also 
fraudulent  practices  in  connexion  with  marriage 
negotiations.  A  favourite  method  is  the  suspension 
of  the  culprit  by  his  thumbs  and  great  toes  to  a 
horizontal  branch,  so  that  the  body  is  arched  like 
a  bow  ;  sometimes  a  large  stone  is  placed  in  the 
middle  of  his  back  to  increase  his  sufferings.  In 
extreme  cases,  where  death  is  decreed  by  the 
village  tribunal,  a  fiendish  ingenuity  is  exhibited 
in  the  invention  of  new  methods  of  torture.  In 
the  case  of  village  feuds  '  a  life  for  a  life '  is  the 


universal  standard  of  justice  ;  annual  outbreaks  of 
a  kind  of  vendetta  are  common  in  some  districts, 
and  continue  until  the  blood-feud  is  settled  by  the 
slaughter  of  an  equal  number  of  persons  on  both 
sides. 

22.  Reform. — The  revision  of  the  penal  code,  so 
as  to  bring  it  into  conformity  with  Western  models, 
is  at  present  under  consideration  ;  and  a  number 
of  Chinese  commissioners  visited  Europe  last  year 
[1910]  for  the  purpose  of  studying  Western  prison 
methods,  with  a  view  to  a  reform  of  the  Chinese 
houses  of  detention. 

Literature. — G.  T.  Staunton,  The  Ta  Tsing  Leu  Lee,  Lon- 
don, 1S10 ;  A.  Lind,  A  Chapter  of  the  Chinese  Penal  Code, 
Leyden,  1887  ;  J.  Dyer  Ball,  Things  Chinese*,  Shanghai,  1903  ; 
Herbert  A.  Giles,  A  Glossary  of  Reference,  Shanghai,  1900; 
W.  Gilbert  Walshe,  Ways  that  are  Dark,  Shanghai,  1906. 

W.  Gilbert  Walshe. 

CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Egyp- 
tian).— There  is  no  reliable  record  of  the  principles 
which  guided  the  Egyptian  judge  in  the  punish- 
ment of  crime.  There  may  have  been  much  that 
was  arbitrary  in  the  administration  of  justice, 
even  in  the  best  bureaucratic  period  of  the  New 
Empire,  but  that  rules  dating  from  a  remote  age, 
and  attributed  to  the  god  Thoth,  were  appealed  to 
is  certain.  A  charge  given  by  the  king  to  his 
newly  appointed  vizier  is  preserved,  but  scarcely 
touches  this  question. 

The  Negative  Confession  in  the  Book  of  the 
Dead  (see  CONFESSION  [Egyptian])  contains  a  long 
list  of  moral  and  religious  obliquities,  including 
adultery,  falsification  of  measures  and  weights, 
and  cursing  the  king.  More  to  our  purpose  is  a 
list  of  charges  brought  against  a  shipmaster  at 
Elephantine,  preserved  in  a  papyrus  at'  Turin  ; 
amongst  his  offences  are  breaking  into  stores  and 
stealing  the  grain,  embezzling  corn  put  in  his 
charge,  extorting  corn  from  the  people,  burning 
a  boat  and  concealing  the  fact,  also  adultery,  and 
apparently  the  misuse  of  cattle  bred  by  the  sacred 
Mnevis  sire.  There  is  no  record  whether  the 
charges  were  proved,  or  of  the  punishment.  A 
decree  of  King  Horemheb  to  repress  military 
exactions  and  oppression  in  Egypt  imposes  a 
severe  penalty  on  the  unauthorized  commandeer- 
ing of  boats  ;  the  offender  loses  his  nose  and  ears, 
and  is  transported  to  the  frontier  city  of  Zaru 
(agreeing  with  Diodorus'  account  of  the  city  of 
Rhinocolura) ;  and  soldiers  who  stole  hides  were 
to  be  beaten  with  100  lashes  so  as  to  open  five 
wounds,  and  to  restore  the  property  to  its  owners. 
Other  documents  indicate  Ethiopia  as  the  place 
of  banishment,  where  perhaps  convicts  were  forced 
to  toil  in  the  gold  mines.  The  condition  of  sus- 
pected persons  after  examination  '  by  beating  on 
their  hands  and  feet '  must  have  been  miserable  in 
the  extreme,  but  probably  the  law  contrived  to 
make  it  still  worse  for  the  convicted  criminal 
in  the  end.  Accounts  of  several  criminal  trials 
are  preserved — of  robbers  of  the  royal  tombs 
(in  Breasted,  Anc.  Records,  London,  1906-1907,  iv. 
499-556),  and  of  a  conspiracy  in  the  harem  against 
the  life  of  the  king  (ib.  pp.  416-456).  The  punish- 
ment of  the  men  and  women  condemned  for  par- 
ticipation in,  or  guilty  knowledge  of,  the  conspiracy 
is  not  specified,  but  it  was  evidently  death  in  some 
form,  and  many  seem  to  have  been  permitted  to 
commit  suicide.  Two  of  the  judges  and  two 
custodians  who  had  misconducted  themselves  with 
female  criminals  during  the  time  of  the  trial  were 
condemned  to  lose  their  noses  and  ears ;  one  of 
these  committed  suicide,  while  a  fifth  was  perhaps 
let  off  with  a  severe  reprimand. 

From  the  end  of  the  Middle  Kingdom  there  is  a 
decree  of  a  King  Antef  deposing  a  nomarch  (?)  and 
high  official  of  the  temple  of  Coptos,  apparently 
for  harbouring  the  king's  enemies.  He  and  all  his 
descendants  were  deprived  for  ever  of  the  power 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (dreek) 


273 


to  hold  the  office.  The  consequences  of  desertion 
to  another  country  are  hinted  at  in  the  story  of 
the  fugitive  Sinuhe,  who  was  plainly  in  peril  of 
death  (Maspero,  Contes  populaires3,  Paris,  1906,  p. 
62).  In  the  treaty  between  the  Hittite  king  and 
Eamses  II.  restoration  of  deserters  and  free  pardon 
for  them  are  stipulated  for  on  both  sides. 

F.  Ll.  Griffith. 
CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Greek).— 
I.  A  crime  may  be  considered  as  an  act  of  dis- 
obedience to  a  Divine  command,  and,  as  such, 
punishable,  if  at  all,  by  Divine  retribution ;  or 
else,  in  its  stricter  sense,  as  an  offence  against 
the  ethical  sense  of  the  community,  for  which  a 
definite  punishment  is  prescribed  by  law.  But  it 
is  only  gradually  that  the  latter  notion  has  been 
evolved.  In  the  Greek  States,  none  of  which  suc- 
ceeded in  working  out  a  scientific  system  of  juris- 
prudence comparable  with  that  of  Rome,  many 
crimes  continued  to  be  treated,  as  in  primitive 
communities,  as  wrongful  acts  done  to  an  indi- 
vidual, for  which  he  was  entitled  to  claim  com- 
pensation in  a  court  of  law  (see  Maine,  Ancient 
Law10,  ed.  Pollock,  London,  1907,  p.  379).  Al- 
though the  familiar  distinction  between  a  crime 
and  a  tort  was  increasingly  recognized  with  the 
progress  of  time,  acts  definitely  criminal  in  char- 
acter (as  being  injurious  to  the  community,  such  as 
homicide  and  theft  under  certain  conditions)  were 
technically  made  the  subject  of  a  civil  action  (SIkti) 
rather  than  of  an  indictment  (ypoxpr)).  Even  in  the 
latter  the  State  was  only  indirectly  concerned  ;  for 
a  further  distinction  was  made  between  a  private 
and  a  public  prosecution,  and  in  private  prosecu- 
tions, which  formed  by  far  the  more  numerous 
class,  the  prosecutor  was  regarded  as  acting  for  his 
own  satisfaction  rather  than  as  fulfilling  a  public 
duty  (see  Demosthenes,  xxi.  25). 

It  would  be  impossible,  within  the  limits  of  an  article  like  the 
present,  even  if  the  material  existed,  to  describe  in  detail,  or 
even  satisfactorily  to  summarize,  the  progressive  development 
in  the  establishment  of  legal  penalties  for  crime  by  the  various 
divisions  of  the  Hellenic  race,  from  the  dawn  of  history  down 
to  the  time  when  their  independence  was  finally  lost.  All  that 
we  shall  attempt  is  a  short  survey  of  the  general  ideas  relating 
to  the  subject  of  crimes  and  punishments  which  prevailed  from 
time  to  time  according  to  the  most  important  literary  records, 
together  with  some  account  of  the  particular  remedies  provided 
by  the  Athenian  law-courts,  in  the  period  for  Iwhich  our  in- 
formation is  most  abundant,  namely,  the  5th  and  4th  cents.  B.C. 
For  States  other  than  Athens  the  necessary  evidence  is  almost 
entirely  wanting,  and  there  is  not  much  advantage  in  recording 
■uch  scraps  as  have  come  down  to  us,  when  it  is  impossible  to 
present  them  in  their  proper  setting,  or  to  make  a  trustworthy 
estimate  of  their  value.  There  is  the  less  inconvenience  in 
taking  this  course,  inasmuch  as  the  pre-eminence  of  the 
Athenian  judicial  system  is  reflected  in  the  remark  that  the 
Athenians  invented  the  regular  administration  of  justice 
(jElian,  Var.  Hist.  iii.  38).  Still,  it  would  be  a  mistake  to 
suppose  that  the  Athenian  courts  were  a  unique  product  of 
Hellenic  civilization.  Of  the  better-known  Greek  States  it 
seems  probable  that  Sparta  was  the  most  backward ;  and  the 
existence  of  an  elaborate  judicial  organization  in  remote  and 
semi-barbarous  communities  such  as  Gortyn  and  Western 
Locris  leads  to  the  conclusion  that  great  commercial  cities  like 
jEgina,  Megara,  and  Corinth  had  a  legal  system  as  highly 
developed,  if  not  so  famous,  as  that  of  Athens  herself  (L. 
Whibley,  Greek  Oligarchies,  London,  1896,  p.  177). 

2.  With  crime  in  the  wider  sense,  as  a  breach  of 
religious  obligation,  and  the  Divine  punishment 
which  it  thereby  merits,  we  do  not  propose  here 
to  deal,  since  they  will  be  sufficiently  discussed 
elsewhere  (e.g.  Eeinys,  Eschatology  [Greek]). 
Nevertheless,  the  gradual  growth  of  a  system  of 
jurisprudence  was  so  largely  conditioned  by  re- 
ligious belief  that  we  cannot  entirely  put  out  of 
view  the  religious  as  distinct  from  the  legal  aspect 
(see,  generally,  Maine,  p.  381).  Their  connexion  is 
most  strongly  marked  in  the  case  of  the  most 
important  of  all  crimes,  that  of  homicide.  In  the 
primitive  age,  for  which  our  authority  is  to  be 
found  not  only  in  the  Homeric  poems,  but  also  in 
the  writings  of  the  Tragedians,  so  far  as  they 
reproduce  the  old  legends,  beliefs,  and  customs 
vol.  iv. — 18 


prevalent  in  the  Epics  now  lost,  it  was  universally 
believed  that  the  shedder  of  blood  was  pursued  and 
punished  by  the  avengers  (Epivues)  of  the  slain  man 
(/Esch.  Cho.  401  ;  Soph.  El.  113).  These  super- 
natural visitants  may  be  regarded  as  the  embodi- 
ment of  the  curse  pronounced  by  the  injured  victim 
against  the  wrongdoer  (^Esch.  Theb.  70),  or  even 
as  the  pnnishment  itself  (Yloival).  In  Homer,  how- 
ever, they  never  appear  as  punishing  murder,  but 
rather  as  protectors  of  parents  against  wrongs  done 
to  them  by  their  children,  and  as  guardians  of  the 
sanctities  of  family  life.  The  mother  of  Meleager 
cursed  her  son  for  slaying  her  brother,  and  prayed 
for  his  death  ;  her  prayer  was  heard  by  the  Erinys 
that  walks  in  darkness  (II.  ix.  571).  Similarly, 
we  find  CEdipus  visited  by  the  curse  of  Iocasta 
(Od.  xi.  280);  the  Erinyes  were  summoned  to 
avenge  the  dishonour  done  by  Phoenix  to  his 
father  Amyntor  (II.  ix.  454) ;  and,  so  far  as  can 
be  seen,  they  were  ready  to  visit  every  crime 
committed  against  the  ties  of  family  or  society 
(Ameis-Hentze  on  Od.  ii.  135).  There  is  nothing 
in  Homer  to  show  that  the  Erinyes  did  not  punish 
homicide  in  a  proper  case  ;  and,  inasmuch  as  they 
avenged  wrongs  done  to  kindred,  they  might  well 
have  been  found  harassing  Orestes  for  the  murder 
of  his  mother,  if  Homer  had  narrated  this  version 
of  the  story  (T.  D.  Seymour,  Life  in  the  Homeric 
Age,  New  York  and  London,  1907,  p.  89).  The 
subjects  handled  by  the  Tragic  poets,  being  more 
nearly  concerned  with  the  ideas  of  crime  and 
punishment,  regularly  present  the  Erinyes  as  the 
avengers  of  bloodshed,  and  more  particularly  of 
the  murder  of  kinsfolk.  Their  victim,  driven 
from  place  to  place,  in  his  vain  effort  to  escape 
(iEsch.  Eum.  210),  was  attacked  by  madness  (Eur. 
Iph.  Taur.  1481)  or  wasting  sickness  (Or.  398  ff.), 
until  he  either  was  released  by  death  or  effected  a 
reconciliation  with  those  whom  he  had  wronged ; 
such  was  the  fate  of  the  matricides  Orestes  and 
Alcmseon. 

3.  Again,  in  primitive  times  punishment  was 
believed  to  be  exacted  in  this  life  (II.  iii.  278  is 
exceptional),  and  the  vigilance  of  the  retributory 
power  to  be  as  unvarying  as  it  was  relentless. 
And,  when  experience  seemed  to  show  that  the 
offender  often  escaped  with  impunity,  it  was  easy 
to  reply  that  vengeance  was  certain,  even  if  it 
was  slow  to  come  (/Esch.  Ag.  58,  wrTepoVoiiw 
"Eptviv ;  Soph.  Ant.  1074 ;  Jebb  on  Oid.  Col.  1536) ; 
and  that  retribution  would  visit  his  descendants, 
even  if  the  original  offender  was  allowed  to  escape 
(II.  iv.  160  ;  Solon,  frag.  4.  27  ff. ;  Kohde,  Psyche*,  ii. 
228).  Until  a  comparatively  late  date  this  was 
one  of  the  excuses  alleged  by  the  Stoics,  who  were 
hard  put  to  it  to  reconcile  the  existence  of  moral 
evil  with  their  doctrine  of  Providence  (Cic.  Nat. 
Deor.  iii.  90).  But  these  crude  notions  failed  to 
satisfy  the  curious  inquirer  or  the  ardent  champion 
of  Divine  justice.  jEschylus,  a  profound  religious 
thinker,  attempted  to  justify  the  gods  by  the  asser- 
tion that  the  sin  of  the  ancestor  begets  a  tendency 
to  sin  in  his  descendants  (Ag.  755-766),  so  that 
the  actual  sufferer  is  punished,  not  directly  for  his 
ancestor's  guilt,  but  because  he  himself  has  yielded 
to  temptation.  But  popular  superstition  required 
a  less  subtle  solution.  Even  if  the  innocent  must 
suffer  for  the  guilty,  it  could  not  be  supposed  that 
the  guilty  themselves  escape  altogether.  Hence 
came  the  belief  in  punishment  after  death,  which 
may  properly  be  called  post-Homeric,  though  it 
appears  in  an  isolated  passage  of  the  NeKvla  (Od. 
xi.  576-600 ;  see  Seymour,  p.  468).  It  was  a 
leading  tenet  in  the  creed  of  the  devotees  of 
Orphism  (Plat.  Pep.  364  E  ;  Rohde,  Psyche*,  ii. 
128).  The  same  doctrine  took  firm  root  in  the 
convictions  of  the  initiated,  who  had  availed 
themselves  of  the  reward  offered  to  the  partici- 


274 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Greek) 


pators  in  the  Eleusinian  mysteries,  that  they,  and 
they  alone,  could  look  forward  to  a  blessed  exist- 
ence after  death  (Soph.  frag.  753) ;  though  how  far 
it  is  correct  to  speak  of  the  '  symbolism '  of  the 
mysteries  themselves  is  a  difficult  and  doubtful 
question  (Rohde,  i.  294  ff.).  From  such  sources 
the  doctrine  spread  even  to  philosophic  circles, 
where  it  provided  the  material  for  several  of  the 
myths  in  the  writings  of  Plato  (Phmdo,  110  B, 
Rep.  614  B,  Gorg.  523  A),  as  well  as  for  those  of  his 
imitator  Plutarch  (Sera  Num.  Vind.  p.  563  ff. ;  Gen. 
Socr.  p.  590),  and  was  countenanced  by  the  Stoics 
in  their  efforts  to  make  common  cause  with  the 
upholders  of  the  popular  religion  (A.  C.  Pearson, 
Fragments  of Zeno  and  Cleanthes,  Cambridge,  1891, 
p.  146). 

4.  The  belief  in  the  power  of  the  spirit  of  the  mur- 
dered man  to  exact  vengeance  persisted  throughout 
the  historical  age,  but  the  practical  consequences 
to  the  murderer  in  the  attitude  of  his  fellows  were 
widely  different  in  Homeric  society  from  those 
which  prevailed  at  a  later  time.  The  homicide  in 
Homer  was  under  no  disability,  so  long  as  he  kept 
outside  the  range  of  the  influence  exercised  by  the 
clan  among  whom  the  murder  was  committed ;  but 
within  those  limits  his  life  was  forfeit  to  the  kins- 
men of  the  murdered  man  [Od.  xv.  271  ff.).  So 
long  as  the  murderer  remained  at  home,  the  kins- 
men were  bound  to  exact  the  blood-penalty,  if 
they  themselves  wished  to  avoid  the  wrath  of  the 
dead  man's  ghost ;  only  by  permanent  exile,  by 
renouncing  for  ever  the  ties  of  home  and  country, 
could  even  one  who  had  accidentally  caused  the 
death  of  another  escape  from  the  vengeance  of  the 
blood-feud.  Such  is  the  inference  to  be  drawn  from 
the  fate  of  Patroclus  (II.  xi.  769 ff,  xxiii.  85 ff). 
But  once  he  reached  a  new  country,  no  moral  dis- 
grace and  no  religious  tabu  attached  to  the  person 
Df  the  fugitive  murderer,  although  his  act  was 
deliberate.  Even  assassination  seems  to  excite  no 
moral  disapprobation  (Od.  xiii.  267).  Exile,  how- 
ever, was  not  always  inevitable.  If  the  relatives 
were  willing  to  accept  a  fine,  the  murderer  might 
by  a  payment  acceptable  to  them  compound  for 
his  life,  and  remain  at  home  (II.  ix.  628-632). 
There  is  nothing  here  of  ceremonial  uncleanness, 
or  of  the  propitiation  of  an  offended  deity  (Rohde, 
i.  271) ;  a  murder  is  a  wrong  done  to  the  family 
which  has  lost  a  member,  and  it  is  for  them  to 
exact  a  suitable  expiation.  The  only  reference  to 
judicial  proceedings  in  connexion  with  homicide  is 
in  the  description  of  the  shield  of  Achilles  (II. 
xviii.  497-508).  Unfortunately,  however,  critics 
are  not  agreed  on  the  nature  of  the  trial  scene; 
and  the  question  is  still  open  whether  the  issue  to 
be  tried  before  the  elders  was  one  of  fact — had  the 
blood-price  been  paid  or  not? — or  whether  the 
community  had  undertaken  to  decide  the  question 
of  right,  when  a  blood-price  had  been  offered  and 
refused.  (See,  on  the  one  hand,  Seymour,  p.  89, 
and  Lipsius,  Das  attische  Recht,  p.  4 ;  and,  on  the 
other,  Leaf,  in  loc,  and  Maine,  p.  406.) 

5.  When  we  pass  to  historical  times,  we  find 
an  entirely  different  state  of  affairs.  The  only 
adequate  explanation  of  the  change  seems  to  be 
that  in  the  interval  a  new  religious  influence  had 
grown  up,  strong  enough  to  modify  completely 
the  Greek  conception  of  murder.  This  was  the 
Delphic  cult  of  Apollo,  which  at  one  ana  rse  same 
time  emphasized  the  moral  guilt  of  the  shedder 
of  blood,  and  by  'its  ceremonies  of  purification 
opened  the  means  of  escape  from  the  need  for  a 
blood-requital.  But  it  is  not  easy  to  understand 
why  the  possibility  of  compounding  by  a  money 
fine,  which  the  Homeric  poems  attest,  should  have 
given  way  to  a  stricter  estimate  of  guilt  (Rohde,  i. 
267  ;  Demosthenes,  xxiii.  28,  33),  which  appears  to 
be  a  reversion   to  the  primitive  rule  that  every 


murder  must  be  expiated  by  blood  (jEsch.  Cko. 
311).  It  has  usually  been  inferred  that  the  prac- 
tice of  Homeric  society  was  a  temporary  deviation 
due  to  special  conditions,  which  suspended  the 
normal  development  of  Greek  ethics  (T.  Gomperz, 
Greek  Thinkers,  Eng.  tr.,  1901,  ii.  4). 

6.  The  Athenian  criminal  code. — However  this 
may  be,  when  we  at  length  reach  the  system 
administered  by  the  Athenian  courts,  we  find 
that  the  punishment  no  longer  depends  upon  the 
choice  of  the  individual  avenger,  but  is  prescribed 
by  the  State  (Demosth.  xxiii.  69),  although  the 
kinsman  is  still  required  to  appear  as  the  instru- 
ment which  sets  the  law  in  motion,  unless  the 
murderer  has  been  forgiven  by  his  victim  before 
his  death  (ib.  xxxvii.  59).  The  circumstances  and 
motive  of  the  homicide  are  no  longer  regarded 
as  indifferent,  but  the  various  grades  of  guilt 
are  distinguished  with  precision.  Thus  (1)  the 
supreme  court  of  the  Areopagus,  instituted,  ac- 
cording to  the  legend,  on  the  occasion  of  the  trial 
of  Orestes,  had  jurisdiction  in  cases  of  wilful  homi- 
cide ((/kScos  ^Koi/<rios).  The  judges  were  the  Council 
of  the  Areopagus,  a  body  recruited  from  those 
who  had  served  the  office  of  archon  and  had 
passed  a  subsequent  scrutiny,  under  the  presi- 
dency of  the  '  king '  archon,  who,  as  exercising 
the  priestly  functions  of  the  old  kings,  testified 
by  his  presence  to  the  religious  character  of  a 
trial  for  blood-guiltiness.  The  penalties  of  death 
and  confiscation  of  goods  followed  a  conviction 
(Demosth.  xxi.  43).  The  Areopagus  also  had 
jurisdiction  over  cases  of  wounding  with  malicious 
intent  (rpavp-a  4k  vpovolas),  of  arson  (iruprai'd),  and 
of  poisoning  (<f>apfx6.Ktiiv  4&v  tis  diroKTeivr}  doijs).  The. 
penalty  for  wounding  and  for  poisoning,  if  death 
did  not  result,  was  banishment  and  confiscation  of 
property  ;  if  the  poisoning  was  followed  by  death, 
it  was  punished  in  the  same  manner  as  murder 
committed  by  violent  methods. 

(2)  The  second  of  the  courts  dealing  with  homicide 
sat  at  the  Palladion,  a  sanctuary  of  Pallas,  outside 
the  walls,  on  the  east  side  of  Athens.  Here  were 
tried  cases  of  involuntary  homicide,  and  of  con- 
spiracy against  the  life  of  another  (poiXevais :  Arist. 
Resp.  Ath.  57.  3),  as  well  as  those  relating  to  the 
killing  of  a  slave,  a  resident  alien,  or  a  foreigner. 
The  sentence  on  a  person  found  guilty  of  involun- 
tary homicide  required  him  to  remain  in  exile  until 
he  had  appeased  the  relatives  of  the  deceased,  or, 
if  he  failed  to  do  so,  for  a  definite  (but  not  ascer- 
tained) period.  The  death  of  a  non-citizen  seems 
also  to  have  been  punishable  with  banishment. 

(3)  Not  far  from  the  Palladion  was  the  Delphinion, 
or  Temple  of  Apollo  Delphinios,  where  all  were 
tried  who  alleged  that  the  homicide  committed  was 
justifiable  or  excusable.  The  examples  given  are 
the  slaying  of  an  adulterer  taken  in  the  act,  death 
on  the  battle-field  in  consequence  of  mistaken 
identity,  and  the  fatal  result  of  an  athletic 
contest. 

(4)  Of  minor  importance  was  the  court  in  the 
precinct  of  the  hero  Phreatus  (Lipsius,  p.  130),  on 
the  Piraeus  peninsula,  where  any  person  was  tried 
who,  while  in  exile  for  involuntary  homicide,  war 
accused  of  murder  or  malicious  wounding  com 
mitted  before  he  went  into  exile.  In  such  circum- 
stances the  accused  pleaded  his  case  from  a  boat 
moored  off  the  coast. 

The  judges  in  the  three  courts  last-mentioned 
were  a  body  known  as  the  (rpira.!.,  51  in  number, 
about  whose  qualifications  and  mode  of  appi/Nt- 
ment  there  is  no  information  except  the  vag\je 
statement  that  they  were  chosen  from  among  the 
well-born  citizens.  Their  number  may  be  explained 
by  the  '  king '  archon  being  counted  as  one  01  them, 
or  may  be  due  to  the  same. principle  as  prevailed  in 
the  jury-courts — the  necessity  of  an  odd  number  in 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Greek) 


275 


order  f.o  secure  the  decision  of  a  majority  (Lipsius, 
p.  18  ;  otherwise  Gilbert,  Handbuch  d.  gr.  Staats- 
alterthumer2,  p.  136).  This  system  seems  to  have 
lasted  from  the  time  of  Draco  until  about  the  year 
400  B.C.,  when,  in  place  of  the  ephetie,  a  panel  of 
ordinary  jurymen  (-qXiaaral)  was  substituted  (Lip- 
sius, p.  41).  The  president  in  these  courts  was 
always  the  '  king '  archon. 

(5)  Lastly,  there  is  the  court  of  the  Prytaneum, 
composed  of  the  four  tribal  '  kings '  (0i>Xo/Sa<riXefi) 
together  with  the  '  king '  archon,  who,  when  the 
actual  criminal  could  not  be  discovered,  conducted 
a  ceremonial  trial  of  the  weapon  or  of  any  other 
inanimate  object,  such  as  a  stone  or  a  piece  of 
timber,  by  means  of  which  a  death  had  been  caused. 
At  the  conclusion  of  the  trial  the  inanimate  instru- 
ment of  death  was  cast  beyond  the  boundaries  of 
the  State.  A  similar  proceeding  took  place  if 
the  death  was  due  to  an  animal  (Arist.  Resp. 
Ath.  57.  4).  Here  we  have  obviously  the  sur- 
vival of  a  custom  which  went  back  to  a  remote 
antiquity. 

in  regard  to  trials  for  homicide,  the  following 
points  of  interest  may  be  noted,  {a)  The  connexion 
of  the  trial  with  the  primitive  blood-feud  is  pre- 
served in  the  requirement  that  the  prosecution 
must  be  undertaken  by  the  nearest  relatives  of  the 
deceased.  (6)  The  trial  always  took  place  in  the 
open  air,  in  order  to  avoid  any  possible  pollution 
to  those  present  from  being  under  the  same  roof 
with  the  accused,  (c)  The  fact  that  the  place  of 
trial  was  always  a  temple  is  derived  from  the  time 
when  the  slayer  was  protected  by  the  right  of 
asylum,  until  he  had  agreed  with  his  adversaries  on 
the  amount  of  the  blood-price,  (d)  The  accused 
could  withdraw  himself  from  the  trial  not  later 
than  the  conclusion  of  his  opening  speech  (Demosth. 
xxiii.  69),  and,  so  long  as  he  remained  abroad,  his 
life  was  protected  ;  but,  if  he  returned  to  Athens, 
he  could  be  put  to  death  with  impunity,  (e)  Cere- 
monial purification  was  required  before  even  an 
involuntary  homicide  could  be  restored  to  his  full 
rights.  (/ )  The  court  of  the  Areopagus  was  closely 
associated  with  the  cult  of  the  Erinyes,  who  appear 
as  the  accusers  of  Orestes  not  only  in  ^Eschylus, 
but  in  the  account  preserved  in  Demosth.  xxiii.  66 
(Rohde,  p.  269). 

At  Sparta,  cases  of  homicide  were  tried  before 
the  council  of  elders  (yepowia),  where  other  public 
proceedings  also  took  place  (Arist.  Pol.  iii.  1,  1275b, 
10).  From  a  case  in  which  permanent  exile  was 
the  penalty  for  an  act  of  involuntary  homicide 
committed  in  childhood  (Xen.  Anab.  IV.  viii.  25), 
it  has  been  inferred  that  the  rule  of  primitive 
society  had  received  hardly  any  modification.  For 
offences  punishable  with  death  the  Spartans  adopted 
the  curious  rule  that,  if  a  man  was  once  acquitted, 
he  remained  still  liable  to  stand  a  second  trial 
(Gilbert,  p.  89).  The  death  penalty  was  carried 
out  by  night ;  and  the  condemned  man  was  either 
strangled  in  prison  or  thrown  from  a  height  into  a 
hollow  called  Katadas  (Plut.  Ages.  19  ;  Time.  i.  134). 
We  hear  also  of  banishment,  disfranchisement,  and 
money  fines  being  inflicted  as  punishments ;  but 
our  information  is  so  meagre  that  we  can  seldom 
distinguish  the  various  crimes  to  which  they  were 
assigned ;  it  appears,  however,  that  cowardice  in 
battle  was  punishable  with  exile  (Time.  v.  72),  and 
Taidcpaa-rta  with  permanent  disfranchisement  (Plut. 
Mor.  p.  237  C).  In  Bceotia  murder  trials  took 
place  before  the  council  (Xen.  Hell.  VII.  iii.  5). 

To  return  to  Athens  :  it  is  desirable,  before  pro- 
ceeding further,  to  mention  certain  salient  charac- 
teristics of  the  administration  of  the  Athenian 
criminal  law  which  distinguish  it  from  the  system 
established  in  Great  Britain.  Every  criminal  pro- 
ceeding was  assigned  to  the  office  of  a  magistrate 
or  board,  who  took  charge  of  the  necessary  docu- 


ments, heard  all  the  preliminary  applications,  and 
presided  at  the  actual  trial.  But  these  officials 
were  very  far  from  exercising  the  functions  of  a 
modern  judge.  They  had  no  legal  training  or 
experience,  but  were  simply  laymen  holding  office 
for  a  year,  a  few  being  chosen  by  election,  but  the 
majority  owing  their  position  to  the  chance  of  the 
lot.  Their  duties  were  for  the  most  part  minis- 
terial, and  at  the  trial  they  exercised  no  control 
over  the  jury,  who  were  supreme  as  representing 
the  sovereign  people.  These  latter — in  criminal 
trials  a  panel,  generally  501  in  number  and  often 
far  larger,  chosen  by  an  elaborate  system  from  a 
body  of  6000  dicasts  annually  enrolled — were  little 
apt  to  stop  an  irrelevant  argument,  if  it  appealed 
to  their  fancy,  or  to  require  every  statement  of  an 
advocate  to  be  proved  by  strict  evidence  (Mahaffy, 
Social  Life  in  Greece*,  London,  1877,  p.  387  ff.). 
Their  freedom  from  responsibility  tempted  them  to 
decide  according  to  the  caprice  of  the  moment,  and 
their  ignorance  enabled  advocates  to  misrepresent 
the  law  without  any  check  but  the  speech  of  the 
other  side.  Moreover,  they  were  often  swayed  by 
political  prejudice  and  passion,  and  even,  as  we  are 
credibly  informed,  were  prepared  to  swell  the  State 
revenues  by  confiscation  of  the  goods  of  the  accused 
in  order  to  improve  the  security  for  the  jurymen's 
pay  ( Aristoph.  Eq.  1359  f. ;  Lysias,  xxvii.  1).  They 
voted  by  ballot,  and  a  simple  majority  prevailed. 
In  many  cases  the  sentence  was  fixed  by  law  (ayibv 
dr(/ii)Tos) ;  but,  where  it  was  left  to  the  discretion 
of  the  court  (dydiv  ti/xt;t6s),  the  jurors  had  only  a 
choice  between  two  alternatives,  as  presented  to 
them  by  the  contending  parties.  It  is  obvious  that 
any  wider  liberty  would  have  been  attended  with 
serious  practical  difficulties. 

If  the  crime  of  treason  {-rrpodoa-la)  was  not  pre- 
cisely defined  in  their  code,  it  was  not  because 
the  Athenians  cared  little  about  the  security  of 
their  constitutional  liberty.  On  the  contrary,  the 
names  of  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton  were  always 
cherished,  and  special  privileges  granted  to  their 
descendants,  in  order  that  the  Athenians  might 
never  forget  the  dangers  from  which  their  ancestors 
had  been  liberated.  Charges  against  the  oligarchi- 
cal party  of  conspiring  against  the  democracy 
(Aristoph.  Eq.  236),  or  against  some  popular  leader 
as  aiming  at  a  tyranny,  were  freely  bandied  to  and 
fro  during  the  troublous  times  of  the  Peloponnesian 
War:  'Aye  "conspiracy"  and  "tyrant,"  these 
with  you  are  all  in  all,  |  Whatsoe'er  is  brought 
before  you,  be  the  matter  great  or  small '  (Aristoph. 
Vesp.  488f.,tr.  Rogers).  The  importance  attached 
to  the  safety  of  the  democracy  is  attested  by  the 
provision  of  a  special  process  (el<rayye\la)  for  the 
impeachment  of  traitors.  Historically,  indeed,  it 
may  be  regarded  as  a  survival  of  the  only  form  of 
criminal  procedure  known  to  the  primitive  State, 
in  which  there  is  no  distinction  between  a  criminal 
trial  and  an  act  of  legislation  (Maine,  pp.  383,  393). 
But  in  practice  this  solemn  proceeding  was  reserved 
for  the  trial  and  punishment  of  serious  public 
offences  which  do  not  admit  of  delay  (Harpocr.  s.v. 
elaayye\la).  A  law  of  Solon  entrusted  the  Areo- 
pagus with  the  trial  of  those  who  conspired  to 
overthrow  the  democracy  (Arist.  Resp.  Ath.  8.  4); 
but  it  was  at  a  later  date — which  has  been  fixed  as 
either  about  the  middle  of  the  4th  century  (Lipsius, 
p.  192),  or  soon  after  the  fall  of  the  Four  Hundred 
(Thalheim,  in  Hermes,  xxxvii.  [1902]  342 ff.)— that 
a  comprehensive  enactment  enumerating  and  de- 
fining various  treasonable  acts  (v6ixos  elaayyekTuti's) 
was  passed  into  law.  The  offences  comprised  in 
it  may  be  divided  roughly  into  four  classes :  (1) 
attempts  to  overthrow  the  constitution,  either 
actual  or  constructive ;  (2)  the  treacherous  surrender 
of  a  fortified  place  or  of  a  military  or  naval  force  ; 
(3)  desertion  to  the  enemy,  or  assistance  given  to, 


276 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Greek) 


or  bribes  received  from,  them  ; 1  (4)  corrupt  advice 
given  by  a  speech  in  the  assembly  (Hyperid.  iii.  22). 
Either  as  included  in  the  scope  of  this  enactment 
or  as  authorized  by  earlier  or  separate  legislation, 
we  find  provision  made  for  proceeding  by  impeach- 
ment against  those  who  made  deceitful  promises  to 
the  people,  and  against  ambassadors  who  were  false 
to  their  duty  (Demosth.  xix.  277,  xx.  135).  The 
procedure,  as  might  have  been  expected,  was  en- 
tirely different  from  that  of  an  ordinary  criminal 
indictment.  An  impeachment  might  be  either  in- 
stituted before  the  Council  of  the  Five  Hundred  or 
brought  direct  to  the  Assembly.  In  the  former 
event,  if  the  Council  approved  the  prosecution,  the 
accused  was  forthwith  arrested  (or  held  to  bail  in 
a  case  of  lesser  importance),  and  the  deo-p.odiTai 
were  authorized  to  bring  the  matter  before  the 
Assembly.  If  the  matter  came  in  the  first  instance 
before  the  people,  it  was  customary  to  direct  a 
preliminary  investigation  by  the  Council ;  and 
from  that  point  the  procedure  was  the  same  as  if  it 
had  been  initiated  before  the  Council.  The  trial 
was  either  held  in  the  Assembly,  or,  according  to 
the  more  usual  practice,  remitted  to  one  of  the 
ordinary  law-courts.  If  the  trial  took  place  in  a 
law-court,  the  number  of  dicasts  was  at  least  1000, 
and  we  read  of  as  many  as  2500  being  empanelled 
(Dinarch.  i.  52).  The  penalty  was  usually  death 
and  confiscation  of  goods,  and  invariably  so  after 
about  the  middle  of  the  4th  cent.;  but  there  are 
grounds  for  thinking  that  before  this  time  it 
was  subject  to  assessment,  or  was  sometimes  fixed 
beforehand  by  the  people,  conditionally  upon 
conviction.  As  an  additional  penalty,  in  order 
to  mark  the  enormity  of  the  crime,  the  body  of 
a  traitor  was  refused  burial  in  Attica  (Hyperid. 
ii.  20).'2  In  early  times,  in  order  to  encourage 
prosecutors  to  undertake  proceedings,  it  was  pro- 
vided that  any  one  who  failed  to  obtain  a  fifth 
part  of  the  votes  should  not  be  liable  to  the  usual 
fine  of  1000  drachmae ;  but  in  the  year  330,  when 
the  facilities  thus  given  were  abused,  the  privilege 
had  been  withdrawn  (Demosth.  xviii.  250). 

The  remedy  of  dirayye\ta  was  also  prescribed  for 
certain  offences  of  a  less  serious  character,  such  as 
official  maladministration,  particularly  in  the  office 
of  an  arbitrator  or  in  the  dockyards ;  and  also  to 
rectify  wrongs  committed  against  those  who  were 
in  a  dependent  position,  or  had  special  claims  to  pro- 
tection, such  as  orphans  or  heiresses.  In  the  latter 
case  the  process,  though  called  by  the  same  name, 
was  altogether  different,  but  was  distinguished 
from  the  ordinary  indictment  in  various  respects, 
to  the  advantage  of  the  prosecution.  Thus  the 
prosecutor  (1)  was  not  restricted  in  point  of  time, 
but  was  allowed  to  speak  as  long  as  he  wished ; 
(2)  was  subject  to  no  penalty,  if  he  failed  to  secure 
a  fifth  part  of  the  votes  ;  and  (3)  was  not  required 
to  make  use  of  a  writ  of  summons  (irpdvKkritns)  when 
laying  his  plaint  (Wyse  on  Isreus,  iii.  46).  But, 
instead  of  going  to  the  Council  or  to  the  Assembly, 
the  prosecutor  made  his  '  denunciation '  to  the 
chief  archon  (£t<Jjvvixos),  who  exercised  a  criminal 
jurisdiction  in  this  matter  corresponding  to  his 
official  superintendence  of  inheritance  cases.  The 
chief  archon  was,  in  fact,  in  a  position  similar  to 
that  of  an  English  Lord  Chancellor,  who,  as  repre- 
sented nowadays  by  the  judges  of  the  Chancery 
Division,  has  full  jurisdiction  over  the  persons  and 
properties  of  his  wards,  and  can  punish  for  con- 
tempt of  Court  those  who  offend  against  his 
decrees  (cf.  Demosth.  xliii.  75).     But,  whereas  the 

1  A  famous  instance  of  a  trial  of  this  kind  was  the  prosecution 
instituted  by  Lycurgus  against  Leocrates,  who  was  alleged  to 
have  abandoned  his  country  after  the  fatal  battle  of  Chasronea. 

2  It  is  interesting  to  find  that  the  last-named  provision  was  a 
traditional  usage  of  immemorial  antiquity,  since  it  is  implied  in 
the  story  of  the  burial  of  Polynices  by  his  sister  Antigone  (see 
Eur.  Pluen.  1630). 


English  judge  exercises  plenary  powers,  the  Athen- 
ian archon,  apart  from  a  limited  power  of  imposing 
a  fine,  only  conducted  the  interlocutory  proceed- 
ings and  prepared  the  case  for  the  decision  of  the 
dicasts.  In  this  connexion  we  are  informed  that 
the  analogous  offence  of  injuring  parents  included, 
besides  corporal  injury,  refusal  of  food  and  lodging, 
and  neglect  in  performing  the  customary  rites  at 
the  tomb.  A  son  convicted  of  maltreatment  of 
parents  was  punished  with  complete  disfranchise- 
ment (drtfita),  but  the  procedure  m  his  case  was  by 
way  of  an  ordinary  indictment  before  the  archon 
(Lipsius,  p.  351).  Whether  there  was  any  other 
penalty  is  unknown  ;  but,  even  apart  from  a  prose- 
cution, candidates  for  office  were  liable  to  be  re- 
jected on  the  scrutiny  (SoKip.a.crla),  and  speakers  in 
the  Assembly  ran  a  similar  risk,  if  it  could  be 
shown  that  they  were  guilty  of  undutiful  conduct. 
Proceedings  for  injury  done  to  orphans  and 
heiresses  (exixXijAoi)  might  be  taken  against  their 
guardians,  and  in  the  latter  case  also  against  their 
husbands,  or  their  nearest  male  relatives,  if  these 
attempted  to  avoid  the  obligation  imposed  upon 
them  either  to  marry  the  heiress  or  to  furnish  her 
with  a  suitable  dowry.  The  penalty  was  assess- 
able by  the  court ;  but,  though  Isseus  (iii.  47)  speaks 
of  the  extreme  punishment  as  applicable  to  such 
cases,  it  is  unlikely  that  the  offence  usually  entailed 
more  than  a  heavy  fine  together  with  disfranchise- 
ment. There  was  also  the  offence  of  injuring  an 
orphan's  estate  (oticov  6pcpo.vt.KoO  /ca/ctutreojs),  which 
appears  to  include  misappropriation  or  unlawful 
retention,  as  well  as  fraudulent  or  negligent  mis- 
management. As  another  parallel  to  the  Lord 
Chancellor's  powers,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  the 
chief  archon  had  jurisdiction  in  lunacy  ;  for  to  him 
was  preferred  an  indictment  by  the  relatives,  when 
it  was  alleged  that  any  one  had  become  incapable 
of  managing  his  private  affairs  (Arist.  Besp.  Ath. 
56.  6).1  The  chief  archon  had  also  jurisdiction  in 
the  indictment  for  idleness  (dpylas  ypatpr/),  generally 
supposed  to  have  been  capable  of  enforcement 
against  a  man  who  had  no  property  and  refused  to 
exert  himself  in  order  to  obtain  an  honest  living. 
Unfortunately,  the  information  respecting  it  is 
scanty,  but  it  has  recently  been  suggested  (Lipsius, 
p.  340)  that  its  real  purpose  was  not  so  much 
educational  as  to  vindicate  the  concern  of  the  State 
for  the  due  preservation  of  family  property,  and  to 
punish  the  dissipation  or  improper  alienation  of  an 
inheritance.  Draco  is  said  to  have  made  death  the 
penalty  (Plut.  Sol.  17),  but  Solon  (or  Pisistratus) 
substituted  a  fine  of  100  drachmae  on  the  first  and 
second  conviction,  and  complete  disfranchisement 
on  the  third  (Poll.  viii.  89). 

The  '  king '  archon,  whom  we  have  already  met 
in  connexion  with  murder  trials,  was  the  presiding 
magistrate  in  prosecutions  for  impiety  (aW/Seia). 
This  offence  had  a  wide  ambit,  ranging  from  acts 
of  sacrilege  to  the  expression  of  speculative  opinions 
on  the  origin  and  government  of  the  universe.  It 
corresponds,  therefore,  in  part  to  blasphemy,  which 
is  still  an  indictable  offence  in  England,  although 
prosecutions  are  nowadays  practically  unknown.  A 
prosecution  for  impiety  was  a  convenient  weapon 
in  the  hands  of  the  obscurantists,  if  they  desired  to 
check  the  growth  of  revolutionary  opinion,  or  to 
interfere  with  the  teaching  of  a  successful  op- 
ponent. Thus  it  was  used  against  Diagoras  of 
Melos  and  Theodorus  the  Cyrenaic,  for  publishing 
atheistic  doctrine  (schol.  on  Aristoph.  Ran.  323  ; 
Diog.  Laert.  ii.  101)  ;  against  Anaxagoras  for  call- 
ing the  sun  a  fiery  mass  (Diels,  Fragmente  der 
Vorsokratiker,  i.2  [Berlin,  1906]  294) ;  against  Pro- 
1  The  best-known  instance  is  that  of  Sophocles,  against  whom 
proceedings  of  this  kind  are  said  to  have  been  taken  by  his  son 
Iophon  ( Vit.  Soph. ;  Plut.  Mor.  p.  7S5  A) — although  the  story 
may  well  have  arisen  from  the  malicious  gibe  of  a  comic  poet 
(Lipsius,  p.  356). 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Greek) 


277 


tagoras  for  opening  his  treatise  on  the  gods  with  a 
profession  of  inability  to  say  whether  they  existed 
or  not,  or  what  they  were  (Diels,  ii.2  [1907]  525)  ; 
and  against  Socrates,  whose  indictment  charged 
him  with  corrupting  the  young  men  by  introducing 
the  worship  of  deities  other  than  those  recognized 
by  the  State  (Plato,  Apol.  24  B).  On  the  other 
hand,  Alcibiades  was  impeached  (eltnryytXOii)  on  the 
delation  (/xtjciotis)  of  an  informer  for  holding  a 
mock  celebration  of  the  Eleusinian  mysteries  in  his 
own  house  (Plut.  Alcib.  22) ;  and  an  information 
(^Sei|ts)  was  laid  against  Andocides  for  taking 
part  in  a  sacrificial  act,  while  under  a  disability 
previously  imposed  (Andoc.  i.  71).  The  sacri- 
legious robbery  of  sacred  property  from  a  temple 
was  treated  as  a  distinct  crime,  and  was  punishable 
with  death,  deprivation  of  the  right  of  burial,  and 
confiscation  of  goods,  on  an  indictment  preferred 
before  the  thesmothetm  (ypatprj  UpoavKlas).  Thus 
various  forms  of  procedure  may  have  been  open  to 
the  accuser,  as  Demosthenes  (xxii.  27)  takes  occa- 
sion to  remark  ;  but,  so  far  as  our  information 
goes,  the  trial  always  took  place  before  a  heliastic 
court.  A  single  exception,  known  to  us  from  the 
7th  speech  of  Lysias,  relates  to  the  charge  of 
uprooting  the  stump  (cttik6s)  of  a  sacred  olive-tree. 
Here  the  cause  was  pleaded  before  the  Council  of 
the  Areopagus,  under  whose  supervision  these 
olive-trees  had  been  placed.  In  this  case  the 
punishment  was  fixed  by  law— death  for  destroy- 
ing a  tree,  and  banishment  for  removing  a  stump. 
For  impiety  in  general,  however,  the  penalty — 
death,  banishment,  confiscation  of  goods,  or  money 
fine — was  left  to  the  assessment  of  the  jury,  as  is 
known  from  the  celebrated  trial  of  Socrates. 

Adultery  (/ioixefa)  was  treated  at  Athens  as  a 
criminal  offence,  and  was  punished  with  severity, 
as  was  natural  in  a  society  which  tolerated  concu- 
binage. The  adulterer  might  be  prosecuted  on  an 
indictment  laid  before  the  thesmothetm  (Arist. 
Besp.  Ath.  59.  3),  and  the  sentence  was  probably 
left  to  the  decision  of  the  court  (Lipsius,  p.  432). 
But  the  injured  husband  could  also  take  the  law 
into  his  own  hands.  He  might  either  kill  the 
adulterer,  and  plead  justifiable  homicide  in  answer 
to  any  proceedings  taken  against  him  ;  or  he  might 
detain  or  exact  sureties  from  him,  until  he  was 
satisfied  by  a  money  payment.  In  the  latter  case, 
however,  the  alleged  adulterer  could  maintain  an 
action  for  false  imprisonment  (d5I*ws  elpx^W"-1-  <">s 
ILoixbv)  against  the  husband,  and,  if  successful,  was 
released  from  any  undertaking  he  had  given  under 
duress.  If  the  husband  continued  to  live  with  a 
declared  adulteress,  he  suffered  disfranchisement ; 
and  the  adulteress  herself  was  forbidden  to  enter 
the  temples  or  to  wear  the  customary  ornaments  of 
free  women.  If  she  infringed  these  restrictions, 
she  might  be  subjected  with  impunity  to  any  injury 
short  of  death  ([Dem.]  lix.  87).  Stringent  penalties 
were  in  force  against  those  who  procured  youths 
or  girls  for  immoral  purposes  (irpoaywyelas),  and 
a  total  disability  was  imposed  automatically  upon 
those  who  had  prostituted  themselves,  so  that,  if 
they  exercised  any  civil  right,  they  became  liable 
to  an  indictment  (yparfr)}  iraipricrews),  and,  if  con- 
victed, to  be  sentenced  to  death.  Cf.  also  art. 
Adultery  (Greek). 

In  dealing  with  other  crimes  of  violence  against 
persons  or  property,  we  have  to  take  into  account 
a  large  variety  of  procedure.  Thus  Demosthenes 
(xxii.  25  if. ),  having  occasion  to  point  out  that 
Solon,  in  providing  different  remedies  for  single 
crimes,  intended  to  ensure  that  no  law-breaker 
should  go  free  by  reason  of  the  poverty  or  in- 
capacity of  his  accuser,  illustrated  his  remarks  by 
the  example  of  theft,  in  which  the  injured  party 
might  proceed  either  by  way  of  arrest  {airaywyr)'), 
by  leading  the  magistrates  themselves  to  the  spot 


where  the  culprit  was  to  be  found  and  requiring 
them  to  seize  him  (icpriyriats),  by  an  ordinary 
indictment  (ypa.<p-q),  or,  lastly,  by  a  civil  action 
(SIkt)).  Similarly,  he  thinks  it  difficult  to  imagine 
that  any  one  who  was  proved  to  have  committed 
assault  and  battery  could  escape  punishment  at 
Athens  (liv.  17).  For,  in  the  first  place,  an  action 
for  slander  (KaKTryopias  BIkij)  had  been  devised  to 
prevent  the  commission  of  the  offence  at  all,  or  at 
least  to  minimize  its  occurrence  ;  and,  if  it  was 
committed,  in  addition  to  the  ordinary  indictment 
for  assault  (ypa<pi)  Sppcas),  there  was  an  action  for 
battery  (dlni)  aliclas),  or,  if  the  offence  was  so  grave 
as  to  require  it,  a  prosecution  for  unlawful  wound- 
ing (Tpavfiaros)  before  the  Areopagus  (see  above). 
In  certain  circumstances  there  was  still  another 
remedy.  When  Demosthenes,  acting  as  choregus 
at  the  Dionysia,  was  grossly  assaulted  by  Midias, 
instead  of  contenting  himself  with  a  personal 
suit,  he  made  a  public  complaint  (rpo(}o\ri)  before 
the  Assembly  in  order  to  obtain  the  authorization 
of  the  people  for  the  institution  of  proceed- 
ings. The  object,  of  course,  was  to  make  full  use 
of  the  prejudice  which  would  be  excited  against 
the  defendant  by  a  decree  of  the  people  ;  and 
perhaps,  in  the  case  of  an  aspiring  politician,  it 
might  be  more  advantageous  to  obtain  the  ad- 
vertisement of  a  public  debate  on  his  wrongs  than 
to  rest  content  with  the  satisfaction  to  be  gained 
from  a  heliastic  court  alone.  But  the  TcpopoX-q  had 
only  a  limited  range,  being  confined,  according 
to  our  authorities,  as  now  interpreted  (Lipsius, 
p.  214  f.),  to  charges  against  sycophants,  i.e.  false 
accusers,  or  those  who  had  made  use  of  legal  pro- 
ceedings in  order  to  extort  money,  or  for  some 
fraudulent  purpose,  but  only  when  their  false 
professions  had  misled  the  people ;  and  against 
those  who  committed  an  outrage  during  the  pro- 
gress of  certain  religious  festivals,  such  as  the 
Dionysia  or  Eleusinia.  If  a  vote  was  given 
against  the  accused  (KaTayei-poTovla),  the  prosecutor 
proceeded  to  lay  his  complaint  before  the  thesmo- 
thetcB  (Arist.  Besp.  Ath.  59.  2),  and  the  trial 
proceeded  in  the  ordinary  way.  There  was,  how- 
ever, one  peculiarity  which,  according  to  a  recent 
view,  attached  to  the  trial  of  a  irpo0o\if  as  dis- 
tinguished from  all  other  prosecutions  in  which  the 
punishment  was  assessable  by  the  court.  In 
ordinary  cases,  as  we  have  already  seen,  the 
judges  were  compelled  to  select  one  of  two 
alternatives ;  but,  in  the  speech  against  Midias, 
Demosthenes  invites  the  jury  to  assess  any  penalty 
which  they  think  adequate,  and  implies  that  this 
may  range  from  death  or  confiscation  of  goods  to  a 
paltry  fine  (§§  21,  151,  152).  (See  Goodwin's  Demos- 
thenes against  Midias,  Cambridge,  1906,  p.  161  ; 
otherwise,  Lipsius,  p.  218.). 

Of  the  other  processes  mentioned  above,  the  most 
important  was  the  arrest,  which  was  applicable  to 
certain  classes  of  offenders,  when  openly  detected 
in  crime.  These  were  known  comprehensively  as 
malefactors  (icaKovpyoi),  and  specifically  as  thieves 
(fcX^TTai,  a  term  not  including  every  offender  of 
this  kind,  but  only  such  as  stole  by  night  or  in  a 
gymnasium,  or,  if  the  theft  took  place  by  day 
and  under  other  conditions,  stole  property  of  the 
value  of  more  than  fifty  drachmae,  or,  if  the  crime 
was  committed  in  the  harbours,  of  more  than 
ten  drachma?  [Demosth.  xxiv.  113]),  kidnappers 
(avSpaTroSurral),  highwaymen  (Xw7ro5i>rai),  burglars 
(7-oix«p^x°')>  ana  pickpockets  (jSaXXaprioTi/ioi).  Such 
cases  came  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  police 
magistrates  known  as  the  Eleven,  and  the  punish- 
ment was  death.  If  the  crime  was  admitted, 
punishment  followed  at  once  ;  but,  if  it  was  denied, 
the  culprit  was  kept  in  durance  until  trial  (Arist. 
Besp.  Ath.  52.  1),  unless  he  was  bailed  out  by  three 
citizens   (Antiph.    v.    17).     The   process  of  arrest 


S78 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Greek) 


seems  gradually  to  have  been  extended,  so  that  it 
was  sometimes  employed  against  murderers,  as  in 
the  speeuh  of  Antiphon,  de  ccede  Herodis,  and  in 
that  of  Lysias  against  Agoratus.  An  entirely 
distinct  application  of  the  process  must  be  recog- 
nized when  it  was  directed  against  those  who, 
while  under  disability  (Sri/xoi),  had  usurped  the 
privileges  which  they  had  forfeited,  and  against 
exiles  who  had  returned  home.  In  the  last- 
mentioned  cases  the  penalty  was  assessable,  except 
for  those  who  were  already  under  ban  of  death.  If 
the  intending  prosecutor  had  not  sufficient  strength 
or  courage  to  arrest  the  felon  himself,  he  could 
fetch  a  magistrate  to  the  spot  and  get  him  to  act 
(i(p-fiyri<ns).  It  is  probable  that  this  proceeding  was 
the  complement  of  arrest,  and  applicable  to  the 
same  crimes ;  but  the  evidence  is  scanty,  and 
touches  only  the  cases  of  theft  (Demosth.  xxii. 
26),  the  harbouring  of  fugitives,  and  the  secret 
retention  of  State  property  (Suid.  s.v.). 

There  is  often  mentioned,  in  conjunction  with 
arrest,  the  process  of  information  (eV5«£is).  This 
answers  to  the  second  kind  of  arrest  mentioned 
above,  and  was  employed  against  State-debtors, 
returned  exiles,  murderers,  and  generally  all  who, 
being  under  disability,  frequented  places  or  per- 
formed acts  from  which  they  were  excluded  by 
law.  In  the  case  of  State-debtors  the  presiding 
officers  were  the  thesmothetce  (Demosth.  xxiv.  22)  ; 
in  other  cases  the  Eleven  (Arist.  Besp.  Ath.  52.  1). 
The  penalty  naturally  varied  according  to  the 
gravity  of  the  offence,  and  was  often  assessable,  as 
in  the  case  of  a  disqualified  dicast  assuming  to  act 
as  such  (Arist.  Besp.  Ath.  63.  3) ;  but,  if  a  State- 
debtor  usurped  the  functions  of  a  public  official,  he 
was  liable  to  the  death-penalty  (Demosth.  xx. 
156). 

If  a  man  whose  goods  had  been  stolen  was  either 
unable  or  unwilling  to  use  the  process  of  arrest,  he 
might  proceed  by  way  of  indictment  for  theft  (ypaiprt 
kXoh-tjs)  before  the  thesmothetw,  as  an  alternative  to 
the  civil  action  for  the  same  delict.  Draco's  code 
had  made  death  the  sole  penalty  for  theft  (Plut. 
Sol.  17),  but  later  legislation  allowed  the  court  to 
fix  the  penalty.  Imprisonment  might  be  inflicted 
in  addition  to  the  main  penalty,  and  disfranchise- 
ment followed  a  conviction. 

For  personal  injury  resulting  from  an  assault,  or 
for  acts  of  shameful  and  indecent  insult  to  the 
person  of  child,  woman,  freeborn  man,  or  slave,  the 
appropriate  remedy  was  an  indictment  for  wanton 
assault  ( 0/3pews  ypatjyq),  before  the  thesmothetw.  The 
essence  of  the  offence,  as  distinguished  from  the 
battery  which  might  be  made  the  foundation  of  a 
civil  action  (aldas  SIktj),  lay  in  the  motive  which 
prompted  the  outward  act.  A  mere  blow,  accord- 
ing to  Aristotle  {Bhet.  i.  13. 1374a,  13),  is  not  neces- 
sarily a  sign  of  wantonness,  but  only  when  the 
object  to  be  attained  is  the  disgrace  of  the  sufferer 
or  the  pleasure  of  the  striker.  The  penalty  was 
assessable,  and  might  amount  to  death  in  serious 
cases  ;  hut  it  was  subject  to  the  peculiar  provision 
that  the  vote  was  taken  immediately  after  the 
verdict  on  the  main  issue,  without  the  usual  op- 
portunity being  given  to  the  parties  to  recommend 
their  respective  assessments  (Lipsius,  p.  428  f.). 

We  must  next  consider  offences  connected  with 
the  unlawful  assumption  or  fraudulent  exercise  of 
civil  privileges.  Pericles  had  carried  a  law  that 
an  Athenian  citizen  must  be  the  offspring  of  a 
father  and  mother  who  were  both  Athenians 
(Arist.  Besp.  Ath.  26.  4) ;  and  it  was  re-enacted  in 
the  arehonship  of  Euclides,  with  a  saving  clause  to 
guard  existing  rights.  Any  one  who  exercised  the 
rights  of  a  citizen  without  being  entitled  to  them 
was  liable  to  indictment  by  a  common  informer  as 
an  alien  (1-cvla.s  ypa<pri),  and,  if  convicted,  was  sen- 
tenced to  be  sold  as  a  slave.     Further,  if  such  a 


person  procured  his  acquittal  by  bribery  or  collusion, 
he  was  amenable  to  the  same  penalty  (Supofavias 
ypa(f>T}).  Similarly,  a  resident  alien  (/ieVoi/cos),  who 
neglected  to  enroll  himself  under  a  patron,  could  be 
indicted  (a.wpoGTa.<rlov  ypatprj)  before  the  third  archon, 
known  as  the  'polemarch,'  who  exercised  over 
P.&01K01  the  same  jurisdiction  which  belonged  to 
the  chief  archon  in  regard  to  full  citizens. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  existence  of  such  proceedings  opened  a 
favourable  field  for  the  crime  of  malicious  prosecution,  and 
helped  to  swell  the  class  of  persons  who  made  their  living  by 
preying  on  the  fears  of  their  fellow-citizens.  The  plays  of  Aris- 
tophanes are  full  of  references  to  the  contemptible  class  of 
sycophants  which  flourished  during  the  latter  part  of  the  5th 
cent.,  and,  in  order  to  protect  society  against  their  depredations, 
the  fullest  opportunity  waa  given  to  proceed  against  them  by 
indictment  or  otherwise  (Isocr.  xv,  313  ff.),  and  the  assessment 
of  the  penalty  was  in  the  discretion  of  the  court. 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  offence  of  perjury — the 
only  crime  which  Homer  (II.  iii.  278)  mentions  as 
visited  with  punishment  after  death — was  con- 
sidered, if  committed  by  a  witness  in  the  course 
of  a  trial,  to  demand  nothing  more  than  a  civil 
remedy  (\pevdoiJ.apTvploiv  SIkt))  ;  although  disfranchise- 
ment was  one  of  the  consequences  which  might 
result  if  the  defendant  lost  such  an  action  (Isseus, 
v.  17) ;  and  it  followed  automatically  if  he  was 
convicted  three  times.  On  the  other  hand,  falsely 
to  swear  to  the  service  of  a  summons  rendered  the 
perjurer  liable  to  criminal  proceedings  (ipev8oK\rp-eia.s 
7pa0i)),  in  which  he  might  even  be  punished  with 
death  (Demosth.  liii.  18).  A  triple  conviction  led 
to  the  same  result  aB  the  similar  conviction  of  a 
perjured  witness. 

An  indictment  for  bribery  (Siipoiv)  might  be  laid 
not  only  against  officials,  but  against  all  others 
who  received,  or  gave,  or  promised  a  bribe,  with 
the  object  of  conferring  or  procuring  an  advantage 
to  the  detriment  of  the  State  or  of  any  individual 
citizen.  Moreover,  a  magistrate  who,  at  the  ex- 
piration of  his  term  of  office,  was  convicted,  at 
the  scrutiny  conducted  by  the  \oyurral,  of  having 
embezzled  or  taken  bribes,  was  fined  ten  times  the 
amount  in  question  (Arist.  Besp.  Ath.  54.  2).  The 
penalty  of  tenfold  compensation  also  attached  to  a 
conviction  on  the  general  indictment,  and  was 
exacted  from  any  official  convicted  of  the  em- 
bezzlement of  public  funds,  on  an  indictment 
before  the  thesmothetw  (kXottt)  Sri/ioaioiv,  or  Upwv, 
XpypdTGiv).  A  separate  indictment  (5erao>o0)  ex- 
isted to  meet  the  case  of  bribes  given  to,  or 
received  by,  a  member  of  the  Assembly,  the 
Council,  or  the  jury-panel,  or  an  advocate 
(o-vv-qyopos),  for  the  purpose  of  influencing  a 
decision  by  any  of  the  bodies  concerned.  The 
only  penalty  mentioned  is  that  of  death  (Isocr. 
viii.  50). 

The  earliest  recorded  instance  of  the  bribery  of  a  jury  is  that 
of  Anytus,  afterwards  notorious  as  the  accuser  of  Socrates,  who 
succeeded  by  this  means  in  escaping  an  adverse  verdict  after 
the  failure  of  the  expedition  to  Fylos  in  409  (Arist.  Hesp.  Ath. 
27).  Demosthenes  is  said  to  have  been  ordered  to  pay  a  fine  of 
fifty  talents  in  connexion  with  the  affair  of  Harpalus  (Plut. 
Dem.  26) ;  but  neither  from  this  not  entirely  credible  state- 
ment, nor  from  the  mention  by  Dinarchus  of  the  death-penalty 
(i.  60),  can  any  inference  be  drawn  as  to  the  penalties  incident  to 
an  ordinary  prosecution  for  bribery. 

Debasing  the  coinage  was  a  crime  punishable 
with  death  (Demosth.  xx.  167,  xxiv.  212). 

Military  offences  were  tried  before  the  generals, 
with  a  jury  composed  of  the  comrades  of  the 
offender.  Our  authorities  distinguish  refusal  tc 
join  when  summoned  (doTpcrreias),  cowardice  in  the 
ranks  (Xt7rora£iou),  loss  of  the  shield  in  flight,  and 
corresponding  delinquencies  in  the  naval  service 
(avavixaxiov,  \nrovavrlov).  Conviction  was  followed 
by  loss  of  civic  rights,  but  not  by  confiscation  of 
property. 

If  a  'State-debtor  procured  the  erasure  of  hir 
name  from  the  register  without  liquidating  the 
debt,  both  he  and  the  official  by  whose  neglect  or 
fraud  the  State  had  been  prejudiced  were  liable  tc 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Greek) 


279 


indictment  before  the  thcsmoth&tce  (aypa<f>lov) ;  and 
any  one  whose  name  was  wrongly  inserted  could 
take  similar  proceedings  against  the  wrongdoer 
(fevSeyypaipTjs),  or  if  the  proper  officer  did  not 
erase  his  name  after  he  had  paid  (/3oiAewreu>s). 

The  general  formula  defining  grades  of  punish- 
ment distinguishes  bodily  suffering  and  money 
payment  (3,7-'  XP*1  ^"■Be'iv  t)  aworuaai).  Death,  as  we 
have  seen,  was  not  infrequently  imposed  by  law  ; 
out,  on  the  whole,  the  temper  of  the  administra- 
tion was  lenient,  and  a  death  sentence  was  less 
frequent  in  practice  than  might  have  been  ex- 
pected from  the  place  which  it  occupies  in  the 
code.  A  striking  testimony  to  the  humanity  of 
the  Athenians  is  the  abhorrence  excited  by  any 
punishment  involving  torture  or  mutilation  ;  and 
penal  acts  of  this  kind  are  hardly  ever  mentioned 
in  literature  except  as  characterizing  the  excesses 
of  tyrants  or  the  savagery  of  barbarians  (see  esp. 
jEsch.  Eum.  186  ff.).  Imprisonment  is  rarely 
mentioned  as  a  penalty  (Lys.  vi.  22 ;  Plat.  Apol. 
37  C) ;  and  it  might  be  said  that,  where  we  immure 
the  criminal  for  the  benefit  of  society,  the  Athenian 
code  secured  the  same  end  by  disfranchisement 
(dn/ila).  This  requires  a  few  words  of  explanation. 
For  the  members  of  a  modern  State,  who  are  more 
tonscious  of  the  burdens  attaching  to  citizenship 
than  of  its  privileges,  an  effort  of  imagination  is 
needed  in  order  to  realize  what  complete  dis- 
franchisement meant  to  an  Athenian.  Athens 
was  a  comparatively  small  city,  as  measured  by 
the  standards  of  to-day,  with  a  proletariat  slave- 
class,  and  a  considerable  number  of  resident  aliens  ; 
and  yet  at  the  same  time  an  imperial  city,  proud 
of  its  past  and  with  a  world-wide  reputation.  An 
Athenian  citizen  valued  his  civic  privileges  as 
highly  as  his  life.  To  be  excluded  from  holding 
any  office  or  exercising  any  public  function  in  a 
community  where  all  citizens  aspired  to  share  in 
the  government,  and  to  be  forbidden  to  appear  in 
the  market-place  or  to  take  part  in  any  public 
festival  where  every  one  lived  in  the  open  air,  and 
where  the  frequently  recurring  festivals  were  the 
chief  enjoyments  of  life,  placed  a  ban  upon  the 
convicted  man  which  made  him  an  outcast  from 
all  his  fellows.  Thus  we  find  disfranchisement, 
with  or  without  confiscation  of  goods,  as  a  normal 
punishment  for  all  kinds  of  serious  offences,  such 
as  sacrilege,  treason,  bribery,  embezzlement,  and 
injury  to  parents  (Andoc.  i.  74).  In  these  cases 
the  disability  was  permanent ;  but  it  was  also 
adopted  against  State-debtors  as  a  means  of  en- 
forcing payment,  and  was  removed  as  soon  as  the 
liability  was  discharged.  There  were  also  cases 
of  partial  disability,  as  when  a  man  was  forbidden 
to  speak  in  the  Assembly,  or  to  become  a  member 
of  the  Council  (Andoc.  i.  75).  So,  if  the  prosecutor 
in  a  public  indictment  threw  up  his  case,  or  failed 
to  obtain  a  fifth  part  of  the  votes,  he  lost  the 
right  of  again  instituting  another  proceeding  of 
the  same  kind  (Demosth.  xxi.  103).  Cf.  also  art. 
Atimia. 

Lastly,  it  remains  to  notice  the  formalities 
attending  the  execution  of  the  sentence.  If  the 
sentence  was  one  of  death,  or  if  imprisonment 
was  involved  in  it,  the  convicted  person  passed 
under  the  charge  of  the  Eleven,  who  had  control 
over  the  State  prisons.  Common  criminals,  known 
as  malefactors  (Kanovpyoi),  were  fastened  in  a  frame 
and  cudgelled  to  death  (&ToTvfnravurp.6s)  by  the 
executioner  (Stj^ios).  The  same  official  undertook 
the  duty  of  '  throwing  into  the  pit '  (sis  rb  p&padpov 
ip.§a\elv) — a  form  of  execution  which  was  at  one 
time  employed  for  traitors  (Plut.  Aristid.  3  ;  Xen. 
Hell.  I.  vii.  20).  The  more  familiar  penalty, 
however,  which  is  mentioned  for  the  first  time 
during  the  domination  of  the  Thirty  (Lipsius,  p. 
77),  was  to  give  to  the  condemned  criminal  a  cup 


of  hemlock-iuice  (Ktbvei.ov),  which  was  administered 
by  an  official  acting  under  the  orders  of  the  Eleven.' 
If  the  accused  was  condemned  to  be  sold  as  a  slavai 
he  was  handed  over  to  the  TruXnjrai,  who  sold  him 
to  the  highest  bidder.  Confiscated  goods  v/are  sold 
by  the  same  board,  and,  in  order  to  preveac  con- 
cealment, a  common  informer  was  permitted  to 
make  a  schedule  (airoypcupri)  of  any  property  which 
he  alleged  to  be  liable  to  confiscation,  and,  if  he 
succeeded  on  the  trial  of  the  issue,  he  was  entitled 
to  retain  for  himself  three-quarters  of  the  value 
(Demosth.  liii.  2).  Sometimes,  in  important  cases, 
a  special  body  of  commissioners  (i"7rr7iral)  was 
appointed  to  make  an  investigation  of  the  property 
liable  to  seizure.  Fines  imposed  by  the  court 
were  collected  by  the  Trp&Kropes,  who  handed  the 
money  over  to  the  treasury  officials  (diroS^/crcu). 
The  enforcement  of  the  negative  penalty  of  dis- 
franchisement was  secured  by  the  severe  punish- 
ment provided  for  those  who  ventured  to  infringe 
the  limitations  imposed  upon  them  by  their 
sentence. 

7.  Such,  in  rough  outline,  was  the  criminal  code 
which  was  administered  in  the  Athenian  law-courts 
at  the  height  of  their  power.  That  a  legal  system 
so  searching  and  comprehensive  should  have  come 
into  existence  within  so  comparatively  short  a 
time  is  remarkable  enough ;  but  the  spirit  of 
humanity  and  enlightenment  which  it  displays, 
the  variety  of  procedure,  the  minuteness  of  sub- 
division designed  to  meet  every  possible  manifesta- 
tion of  crime,  and  the  securities  taken  against 
every  form  of  personal  violence,  alike  show  that, 
in  the  province  of  law,  Greek  civilization  did  not 
fall  far  short  of  the  eminence  which  it  attained  in 
art  and  literature.  The  defects  of  the  system,  as 
has  already  been  indicated,  were  due  to  its  faulty 
administration  by  the  juries,  to  the  absence  of  a 
trained  legal  profession,  and  to  the  non-existence 
of  records  to  secure  continuity  of  decision. 

8.  Views  of  Plato  and  Aristotle. — The  laws  of 
Athens  were  the  expression  of  the  best  opinion  of 
an  unusually  intelligent  community,  and  even  the 
most  advanced  thinkers,  who  were  ready  enough 
to  criticize  defects  in  the  constitution,  found  but 
little  to  improve  upon  in  the  criminal  code.  When 
Plato  set  out,  in  the  9th  book  of  the  Laws,  to 
provide  the  citizens  of  his  pattern  State  with  a 
revised  series  of  statutes,  the  amendments  which 
he  advocated  were  made,  not  so  much  from  dis- 
satisfaction with  the  Athenian  code,  as  from  a 
desire  to  preserve  intact  the  essential  features  of 
his  reformed  community.  Thus,  he  objected  to 
the  punishment  of  disfranchisement,  and  to  thai 
of  perpetual  banishment,  because  they  woull 
interfere  with  the  permanent  occupation  of  th< 
lots  which  were  assigned  to  the  citizens  (855  B,  C). 
For  similar  reasons,  fines  were  to  be  inflicted  more 
sparingly  than  was  usual  at  Athens  ;  and  a  more 
frequent  resort  to  flogging  and  the  pillory — forms 
of  punishment  odious  to  the  Athenian  mind,  how- 
ever familiar  at  Sparta  (Grote,  Plato,  London, 
1865,  iii.  433) — was  recommended.  The  motive 
which  prompted  these  changes,  and  which  informs 
the  whole  body  of  his  legislation,  is  derived  from 
his  conception  of  the  real  nature  of  crime  and  the 
object  which  punishment  should  seek.  It  should, 
however,  be  remembered  that,  as  his  citizens  were 
a  carefully  selected  and  highly  educated  body,  he 
anticipated  that  crime  would  be  a  rare  occurrence, 
and  that  legislation  was  needed  only  by  way  of 
precaution  against  the  perversity  of  human  nature 
(853  C-E).  Now,  Socrates  had  taught  that  virtu* 
is  fundamentally  a  matter  of  knowledge,  and  that 

1  There  are  occasional  references  in  Greek  literature  to 
stoning  as  a  traditional  mode  of  execution  for  heinous  offences; 
but  it  was  rather  a  survival  of  the  custom  of  human  sacriflc* 
than  the  enactment  of  a  legal  code.  See  J.  Q.  Frazer,  Pausanias. 
London,  1898,  iii.  417 ;  Verrall  on  jEsch.  Ae.  1107. 


280 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Hebrew) 


wrongful  action  necessarily  proceeds  from  ignor- 
ance. Hence  the  paradox  that  no  one  is  willingly 
nnjust ;  for,  if  a  man  knows  the  good,  he  will 
follow  it.  To  this  doctrine  Plato  consistently 
adhered  in  his  latest  work  (S60  D,  E),  and  it  is 
obvious  that  it  cuts  at  the  root  of  the  common 
distinction  of  jurisprudence  between  voluntary 
and  involuntary  wrongs.  But  Plato  did  not  deny 
the  existence  of  injustice  or  of  voluntary  wrong 
(tKovcna  a^apT-^/iaTa) ;  only  he  gave  a  new  connota- 
tion to  these  terms,  based  upon  the  principles  of 
his  own  psychology.  Thus,  injustice  is  due  to  the 
dominance  in  the  soul  of  unreasoning  emotion — 
either  anger  or  desire,  the  stimulus  of  pain  or  of 
pleasure  ;  but  if,  on  the  other  hand,  the  emotions 
are  controlled  by  the  reason,  it  is  no  longer  possible 
for  a  man  to  commit  an  unjust  act,  although  his 
actions  may  be  misguided  and  harmful  to  others. 
For,  though  the  reason  may  be  strong  to  master 
the  lower  impulses,  yet  its  successful  operation 
may  be  impeded  by  ignorance  or  prejudice  ;  and 
in  this  manner  voluntary  error  is  possible  (Grote, 
iii.  399).  It  follows  that  the  chief  aims  of  the 
law-giver  will  be  at  once  by  education  to  subdue 
the  passions,  by  compensation  to  make  amends  to 
the  sufferer,  by  prescribed  penalties  to  deter,  and 
by  enforced  penalties  to  chasten  and  reform.1 
Above  all,  the  spirit  of  his  laws  must  be  such  as 
to  strengthen  and  guide  the  rational  faculty  by 
prescribing  such  beliefs  as  are  agreeable  to  abso- 
lute reason.  It  is  only  when  the  evil  is  recognized 
as  incurable  that  death  is  a  suitable  penalty,  best 
for  the  criminal  himself,  and  useful  as  an  example 
to  others. 

Plato  recognized  two  aspects  of  punishment,  the 
corrective  (Adam  on  Rep.  380  B)  and  the  preven- 
tive, both  of  which  are  to  be  distinguished  from 
a  purely  vindictive  exercise  of  authority  (Gorg. 
525  A  ;  Prot.  324  A  ;  Legg.  854  B,  934  A).  In  the 
same  way  Aristotle  distinguished  vengeance,  the 
object  of  which  is  the  satisfaction  of  the  inflicter, 
from  chastisement  directed  to  the  good  of  the 
criminal  (Rket.  i.  10,  1369b,  13;  Eth.  Nic.  ii.  3, 
1104b,  16);  and,  in  entire  agreement  with  Plato, 
he  held  that,  whereas  good  men  may  be  ad- 
monished, others,  whose  vice  is  incurable,  must  be 
cast  out  [ib.  x.  9,  1180a,  9).  Elsewhere  he  speaks 
of  corrective  justice  (Slop$utik6v  SUcuov)  as  proceed- 
ing by  arithmetical  proportion,  indemnifying  the 
injured  party  by  subtracting  from  the  gain  of  the 
wrongdoer  an  amount  equivalent  to  the  loss  of  his 
victim  (ib.  v.  4,  1132a,  10),  as  distinguished  from 
distributive  justice,  which  seeks  to  establish  a 
geometrical  proportion  according  to  the  respec- 
tive merits  of  the  individuals  concerned ;  but  in 
the  Politics,  where  we  might  have  looked  for  a 
reasoned  treatment  of  punishments,  nothing  of 
the  kind  is  to  be  found. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  detail  the  provisions  which 
Plato  recommended  for  the  punishment  of  sacri- 
lege, homicide,  and  wounding ;  but  it  deserves  to 
be  remarked,  as  showing  that  he  was  alive  to 
the  defects  of  the  Athenian  jury-courts,  that  he 
refrained  from  drawing  up  precise  enactments  to 
fit  every  possible  contingency,  because  he  trusted 
largely  to  the  discretion  of  his  select  and  well- 
trained  court,  which  was  established  to  take  the 
place  of  the  Council  of  the  Areopagus  (876  B-E). 
It  should  further  be  noticed  that,  while  generally 
adopting,  with  slight  alterations,  the  provisions  of 
the  Athenian  code,  in  dealing  with  the  offence  of 
battery  he  left  the  beaten  person  to  defend  himself 
as  best  he  might,  unless  he  happened  to  be  twenty 
years  older  than  his  assailant  (879  C).  In  thus 
1  Similarly  the  Stoics,  as  reported  by  Seneca,  de  Clem.  i.  22.  1. 
As  practical  reformers  they  were  very  far  from  carrying  to  its 
logical  conclusion  the  doctrine  that  all  crimes  are  equal,  not- 
withstanding the  banter  of  Horace  (Sat.  i.  3.  121)  and  Cicero 
(pro  Mur  61). 


training  the  young  to  endure  blows,  and  in  inculcat- 
ing reverence  for  old  age,  Plato  was  showing  hia 
preference  for  the  methods  of  Spartan  discipline. 
But  the  most  extraordinary  of  all  Plato's  legis- 
lative experiments  was  the  intolerant  enactment 
against  religious  heresy.  He  distinguished  three 
classes  of  heretics:  (1)  those  who  do  not  believe 
in  gods  at  all ;  (2)  those  who  believe  that  gods 
exist,  but  do  not  concern  themselves  with  human 
affairs ;  (3)  those  who  believe  that  the  gods  may  be 
propitiated  by  prayers  or  sacrifice  (885  B).  Of 
these  classes  the  third  is  the  most  pernicious  ;  but 
any  one  who  was  found  guilty  of  impiety  as  falling 
under  any  of  the  three  classes,  even  if  his  conduct 
was  otherwise  free  from  blame,  was  to  be  im- 
prisoned for  five  years ;  and,  if  at  the  end  of  that 
time  he  was  still  unrepentant,  he  must  be  put  to 
death  (909  A).  Further,  if  the  offence  of  heresy 
was  found  aggravated  by  bad  conduct,  the  offender 
must  be  kept  in  solitary  confinement  until  he 
died,  and,  after  death,  refused  the  rites  of  burial. 

Literature. — The  chief  authority  on  Athenian  jurisprudence 
is  J.  H.  Lipsius,  Das  attiscke  Recht  und  Rechtsverfahren,  pt. 
i.,  Leipzig,  1905,  pt.  ii.,  1908 ;  but,  as  the  work  is  not  yet  com- 
plete, it  is  still  necessary  to  refer  to  the  same  writer's  revised 
edition  of  Meier-Schbmann,  Der  attiscke  Process,  Berlin, 
1SS3-1887.  See  also  C.  F.  Hermann,  Lehrbuch  der  griech. 
Rechtsalterthiimer,  ed.  Thalheim,  Freiburg,  1884  ;  G.  F.  Scho- 
mann,  Lehrbuch  der  griech.  Alterthumer*,  ed.  Lipsius,  Berlin, 
1S97,  esp.  vol.  i.  pp.  506-537  ;  G.  Gilbert,  Handbuch  der  griech. 
StaatsalterthiimerV,  Leipzig,  1893,  esp.  vol.  i.  pp.  421-467. 
There  are  also  numerous  articles  bearing  on  the  subject  by 
T.  Thalheim,  in  Pauly-Wissowa.  For  the  primitive  beliefs 
connected  with  the  blood-feud,  see  E.  Rohde,  Psyche*, 
Tubingen,  1907, 1.  269-277.  A.  C.  PEAESON. 

CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Hebrew). 
— Crime,  strictly  speaking,  is  an  offence'  against 
the  law  of  a  State,  which  the  State  punishes,  as 
distinguished  from  sin  against  God,  and  other 
wrongdoing  of  which  the  State  takes  no  cognizance. 
This  idea  had  not  been  formulated  by  the  Israelites, 
and  there  is  no  Heb.  word  exactly  equivalent  to 
our  'crime.'  A  crime  was  a  form  of  'evil'  (in, 
ra  ).  In  the  same  way  there  was  no  one  general 
term  for  '  punishment ' ;  it  might  be  denoted  by 
Sidj  (g'muT)  and  other  words  for  '  recompense ' ;  or 
by  jty  {'aw6n)  and  other  words  for  'sin'  or 
'  iniquity '  (punishment  being  regarded  as  an  effect 
of  sin),  or  by  forms  of  the  root  ips  (pqd),  'visit.' 
The  crimes  and  punishments  recognized  by  the 
Israelites  may  be  classified  thus  (only  the  more 
common  Heb.  words  are  given) : 

I.  CRIMES :  I.  Religious  offences :  blasphemy 
(derivatives  of  "|-o  brk,  <pj  gdp,  yta  n's,  Lv  2410-16) ; 
breaches  of  ritual,  as  to  food  (Lv  725),  uncleanness 
(720),  sacrifice  and  offerings  (19s  etc.);  idolatry,  or 
the  worship  of  false  gods  (Dt  13) ;  illegitimate 
assumption  of  the  priestly  or  prophetic  office  (Nu  16. 
17,  Dt  1820) ;  magic,  divination,  sorcery,  and  witch- 
craft (Dt  189"14);  Sabbath-breaking  (Nu  15S2ff-) ; 
perjury  (Ex  2015) ;  war  against  Israel  on  the  part 
of  idolatrous  nations,  which  was  regarded  as  an 
offence  against  Jahweh  (cf.  II.  i). — 2.  Offences 
against  the  State :  treason  (1  K  21IS,  2  K  146) ; 
bribery  and  oppression  (Ex  231"9). — 3.  Sexual 
offences  :  bestiality  (Ex  22lu,  Lv  IS23) ;  prostitution 
(Lv  1929);  incest  (Lv  186ff-);  sodomy  (Lv  IS22).— 
4.  Offences  against  property:  adultery  (deriva- 
tives of  >\k),  n'p,  Ex  2014) ;  kidnapping  (Ex  2116) ; 
leaving  pit  uncovered,  or  otherwise  causing  damage 
through  carelessness  (Ex  2128-86  226-16) ;  theft  (Ex 
221-6);  usury  (Ex  22M) ;  seduction  or  rape  of 
daughter  (Ex  2216'-,  Dt2223-29).— 5.  Offences  against 
the  person  :  murder  (Ex  20ls) ;  injuries  (Ex  2118-27). 
—^5.  Offences  against  the  family :  cursing  parents 
(Ex  21"). 

II.  Punishments -.  1.  Religious  penalties.— 
Many  ritual  offences  might  be  atoned  for  by 
sacrifices,  seclusion,  washings,  and  other  rites : 
e.g.  touching  an  unclean  thing  was  atoned  for  by 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Hebrew) 


281 


sacrifice  (Lv  51"18) ;  eating  flesh  of  an  animal  not 
properly  killed  was  atoned  for  by  washing  one's 
clothes  and  person,  and  remaining  unclean  until 
the  evening  (Lv  1716).  Sacrifices  seem  to  be 
required  in  connexion  with  all  sins  which  could 
be  forgiven.  A  person  in  a  state  of  uncleanness 
could  not  be  present  at  the  Temple  services,  or 
partake  of  the  Passover. 

Excommunication  was  practised  in  later  Judaism,  but  it  is 
doubtful  how  far  it  had  any  equivalent  in  ancient  Israel.  The 
Priestly  Code  prescribes  the  penalty  of  '  cutting  off  from  the 
people '  for  numerous  offences,  mostly  against  the  ritual  laws, 
but  sometimes  for  gross  forms  of  immorality.  A  comparison  of 
parallel  passages  shows  that  in  Borne  cases  offences  punished  in 
one  chapter  by  '  cutting  off '  are  punished  in  another  by  '  death ' 
(cf.  Lv  18.  20).  On  the  other  hand,  some  offences  punished  by 
'cutting  off'  seem  to  us  trivial,  e.g.  omitting,  without  valid 
excuse,  to  observe  the  Passover  (Nu  913),  but  such  matters 
might  not  seem  trivial  to  the  Israelites.  It  is  practically  certain 
that  death  was  never  regularly  intiicted  for  the  various  offences 
which  were  to  be  punished  by  'cutting  off.'  The  difficulty  is 
explained  by  the  history  of  the  Priestly  Code  ;  it  was  compiled 
by  Babylonian  Jews  ;  its  authors  had  no  experience  in  inflicting 
death  penalties,  and  no  immediate  prospect  of  such  experience. 
They  indulged  in  a  theoretical  severity,  untempered  by  practical 
necessities  ;  they  used  the  term  '  cutting  off,'  because  it  would 
also  serve  to  describe  excommunication  from  social  fellowship 
and  religious  privilege — a  penalty  within  the  power  of  the  exiles 
to  inflict. 

Heathen  nations  stubbornly  fighting  against  Israel  were  to  be 
subjected  to  the  ban  (onn,  li&rem),  i.e.  to  be  massacred  in 
honour  of  Jahweh,  according  to  certain  texts  (e.g.  Dt  72).  The 
leading  instance  is  Jericho  (Jos  621).  In  later  Judaism,  excom- 
munication of  varying  degrees  of  Beverity  was  inflicted  for 
ecclesiastical  and  other  offences  ;  and  the  ancient  name  herein 
was  used  for  the  severest  form- 
Some  laws  and  historical  precedents  show  that 
God  Himself  was  held  to  inflict  punishment  on 
certain  occasions  by  direct  intervention — Divine 
visitation.  Thus  (Lv  10"-)  Nadab  and  Abihu  are 
struck  dead  by  Jahweh  for  offering  the  wrong  sort 
of  incense  ;  and  the  adulteress  who  has  denied  her 
guilt  and  submitted  herself  to  the  trial  by  ordeal 
by  drinking  'the  bitter  water  which  causeth  a 
curse '  is  smitten  by  God  with  disease — '  her  belly 
shall  swell,  and  her  thigh  shall  rot '  (Nu  5P).  No 
instance  is  recorded. 

2.  Secular  penalties. — (a)  Death. — This  penalty 
is  often  prescribed  without  specifying  how  it  is  to 
be  inflicted.  In  many  instances  the  culprit  was 
slain  with  sword,  spear,  or  dagger,  according  to 
the  convenience  or  choice  of  the  executioner  (e.g. 
Elijah  and  the  prophets  of  Baal,  1  K  19').  There 
is  no  clear  case  of  beheading  in  the  OT,  though 
the  head  was  often  severed  from  a  dead  body  (e.g. 
Goliath,  1  S  1751).  In  the  NT,  John  the  Baptist 
(Mk  B27)  was  beheaded,  and  James  (Ac  122)  '  slain 
with  the  sword.'  'Hanging'  is  referred  to  in 
Dt  2122,  but  what  is  in  view  is  probably  exposure 
after  execution  (cf.  Gn  4022,  Pharaoh's  chief  baker ; 
Jos  820,  the  king  of  Ai).  Stoning  seems  to  have 
been  the  most  usual  mode  of  capital  punishment, 
and  burning  to  death  was  inflicted  for  some  offences 
(see  below). 

The  Bible  and  the  Apocrypha  refer  to  other 
forms  of  execution  practised  by  heathen  nations. 
Thus  2  Mac,  in  describing  the  Syrian  persecution, 
mentions  throwing  down  from  the  wall  of  a  city 
(610),  beating  to  death  on  a  wheel  or  drum 
(rvp-iravov,  619-  w),  and  torturing  to  death  with  fire 
(76).  Crucifixion,  a  common  Koman  punishment, 
was  used  in  the  case  of  our  Lord;  and  He  ll37 
speaks  of  martyrs  being  sawn  asunder.  Daniel 
and  his  accusers  were  thrown  to  the  lions  (Dn  6). 
The  severity  of  the  death  penalty  was  sometimes 
enhanced  by  refusing  to  allow  the  relatives  of  the 
culprit  to  bury  the  corpse  (2  S  2110). 

The  following  is  a  list  of  the  crimes  for  which 
death  was  inflicted ;  the  mode  of  execution  is 
given  in  square  brackets  ;  where  nothing  is  stated 
on  this  point,  we  have  no  information  : 

Various  forms  of  homicide  :  murder  (Ex  2112,  Lv  2417)  ;  child- 
sacrifice  (Lv  202  [stoning]) ;  manslaughter,  if  the  avenger  of 
blood  caught  the  Blayer  outside  the  city  of  refuge  (Nu  S527) ; 


keeping  an  ox  known  to  be  dangerous,  if  the  ox  killed  a  human 
being  (Ex  212»). 

Hearing  false  witness  on  a  capital  charge  (Dt  1918-21). 

Kidnapping  (Ex  2116). 

Insult  or  injury  to  parents  (Lv  208,  Ex  Zllo.  IT,  Dt  2V21 
[stoning]). 

Various  forms  of  sexual  immorality :  incest  (Lv  201* 
[burning]^;  unchastity  (Dt2221-24  [stoning]);  adultery  or  un- 
natural vices  (Lv  201016)  •  fornication  on  the  part  of  a  priest's 
daughter  (Lv  21B  [burning]);  fornication  on  the  part  of  a 
betrothed  woman  (Dt  22'-2tr-  [stoning],  Gn  3824  [burningj). 

Various  religious  and  ritual  offences :  witchcraft,  magic, 
etc.  (Ex  2218,  Lv  206-  27  [stoning])  ;  idolatry  (Ex  2220,  Dt  1310 
[stoning]) ;  blasphemy  (Lv  2410-23  [stoning]) ;  false  claim  to  be  a 
prophet  (Dt  135- 10  [stoning]) ;  intrusion  of  alien  into  sacred 
place  or  office  (Nu  1"  310-  38  18?)  ;  Sabbath-breaking  (Ex  31  "J. 

According  to  Lv  27281',  human  beings  may  be 
made  herem  ('devoted')  to  Jahweh;  and,  if  so 
devoted,  must  be  put  to  death.  Probably  only 
criminals  or  heathen  enemies  (cf.  above)  were 
subject  to  such  treatment. 

(b)  Mutilation  is  involved  in  the  principle  'an 
eye  for  an  eye,'  etc.  (Ex  2124').  No  instance  is 
mentioned  of  the  application  of  this  law,  but  we 
may  compare  the  cutting  off  of  the  thumbs  and 
great  toes  of  Adonibezek  ( Jg  l6- ').  Mutilation  is 
mentioned  in  2  Mac  74,  and  blinding  in  the  cases 
of  Samson  (Jg  1621)  and  Zedekiah  (2  K  257). 

(c)  Flogging,  limited  to  a  maximum  of  forty 
stripes  (Dt  253),  was  inflicted  on  a  betrothed  slave- 
girl  guilty  of  fornication,  and  on  her  partner  in  the 
offence  (Lv  1920),1  and  for  other  minor  offences.  The 
references  in  Proverbs  imply  a  large  use  of  this 
punishment,  especially  for  children  ;  and  in  the  NT 
it  is  spoken  of  as  used  in  the  synagogues  for 
religious  offences  (2  Co  ll24).  The  actual  practice 
in  ancient  Israel  was  much  more  severe  than  the 
prescription  of  the  Deuteronomic  and  Priestly  laws. 
Ex  212"'-  deals  with  cases  in  which  a  master  flogs  a 
male  or  female  slave  to  death,  and  decides  that  he 
is  not  to  be  punished  unless  the  victim  actually 
dies  under  his  hand  (cf.  Jg  8',  1  K  12").  The 
Koman  scourging,  the  Egyptian  bastinado,  and  the 
various  forms  of  flogging  amongst  heathen  peoples, 
were  much  more  severe  than  the  Jewish  '  forty 
stripes  save  one.' 

(d)  Exposure  of  the  person. — The  figurative 
description  of  the  punishment  of  Jerusalem  in 
Ezk  1639  may  imply  that  this  punishment  was 
inflicted  on  adulteresses  in  Israel  ;  but,  as  these 
chapters  were  written  in  Babylonia,  the  imagery 
may  have  been  suggested  by  heathen  practices. 

(e)  Stocks  (e.g.  Jer  202  njsno,  mahpeketh;  Ac 
1624  to  £v\ov). 

(/)  Slavery,  for  theft  (Ex  223),  or  as  a  result  of 
debt(2K41,  Neh  55). 

(g)  Imprisonment  is  not  appointed  in  the  Law  as 
a  punishment.  It  was  used  for  the  detention  of 
offenders  before  trial,  or  pending  execution,  as  well 
as  in  cases  where  it  was  desired  to  keep  a  danger- 
ous or  obnoxious  person  under  restraint,  or  to 
secure  the  persons  of  slaves  and  captives.  There 
is  no  evidence  that  terms  of  imprisonment  were  ap- 
pointed expressly  as  a  punishment,  except  in  Ezr  7s8. 

(h)  Exile  is  not  appointed  in  the  Law ;  the 
fugitive  from  justice  might  exile  himself  (Absalom, 
2  S  13s7).  Exile  is  mentioned  as  a  penalty  inflicted 
by  the  Persians  (Ezr  726).a 

(i)  Childlessness  for  immorality  is  probably  a 
Divine  visitation  (Lv  2020). 

(j)  Penalties  in  money  and  goods. — Compensation 
is  required  for  theft,  and  in  cases  where  person  or 
property  has  been  injured  through  carelessness  or 
malice.    In  cases  of  mere  carelessness  an  equivalent 

1  The  Hebrew  (rvnn  rnp2,  biqqoreth  tihyeh)  means  literally 
'there  shall  be  an  examination  '  (RV 'they  shall  be  punished'). 
The  interpretation  given  in  the  text  is  commonly  adopted,  and 
is  probably  correct.  Cf.  the  use  of  the  term  '  examine '  for 
'torture.' 

2  The  Aram.  iehs>>  sh'h-Oshu  (Kethib),  or  'iphifi,  sh'rdshl  (Q»r«  ; 
AVra  and  R  Vm  '  rooting  out '),  is  interpreted  in  this  Bense  by 
RV.  etc. 


282 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Hebrew) 


compensation  was  required  (Ex  225) ;  but,  where 
there  was  moral  guilt,  the  compensation  was  heavier, 
e.g.  for  theft  the  thief  must  restore  fourfold,  fivefold 
(Ex  22'),  or  sevenfold  (Pr631)-  Compensation  for 
the  killing  of  a  slave  by  an  ox  known  to  be  danger- 
ous is  fixed  at  thirty  shekels  (Ex  2132) ;  for  the 
seduction  of  a  daughter  at  fifty  shekels,  the  seducer 
to  marry  her  (Dt  2229) ;  for  a  false  accusation  of 
unchastity  against  a  newly  married  wife,  one 
hundred  shekels,  to  be  paid  to  her  father  (Dt  2219). 
In  some  cases  fines  might  be  accepted  in  place  of 
capital  punishment  (cf.  below,  III.  5).  See  also 
Ezr  726. 

(k)  Unspecified  penalties. — Numerous  acts  are 
enjoined  or  forbidden  without  any  penalty  being 
attached  to  the  breach  of  the  law  ;  e.g.  hybrids 
must  not  be  bred  (Lv  1919). 

III.  Moral  and  religious  significance.— 
I.  Progress. — We  may  distinguish,  on  the  one 
hand,  the  practice  of  the  Israelite  monarchy,  and, 
on  the  other,  the  system  of  law  embodied  in  the 
Deuteronomie  and  Priestly  Codes.  The  practice  of 
the  monarchy  is  shown  in  the  Book  of  the  Covenant 
(Ex  211-2319  [E])  and  in  the  references  in  the  nar- 
ratives. This  practice  was  a  development  from 
earlier  times ;  changes  must  have  come  about  as 
the  Israelites  passed  from  the  nomad  period  to  that 
of  the  Judges,  and  again  to  the  monarchy  ;  but  our 
information  is  not  sufficiently  full  to  enable  us  to 
trace  this  development.  Even  for  the  monarchy 
our  data  are  meagre  ;  our  extant  narratives  were 
intended  to  edify  later  generations,  and  references 
to  objectionable  features  in  early  practice  have 
probably  been  largely  omitted,  especially  when 
they  were  connected  with  David  and  others  who 
were  regarded  as  representatives  of  true  piety. 
Moreover,  the  Deuteronomie  and  Priestly  Codes 
never  had  a  fair  trial  as  the  working  laws  of  an 
independent  State ;  they  always  remained  more 
or  less  religious  ideals.  Such  theoretical  codes  may 
be  both  higher  in  some  respects  and  lower  in  others 
than  the  actual  practice  of  their  own  time.  For 
instance,  provisions  that  call  for  large  sacrifices  on 
the  part  of  the  powerful  and  wealthy  in  the  interests 
of  the  poor  are  easy  to  prescribe  on  parchment,  but 
difficult  to  enforce  in  real  life.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  cruel  penalties  by  which  enthusiasts  seek  to 
promote  and  safeguard  religion  are  mitigated  in 
their  practical  application  by  considerations  of 
humanity.  A  Deuteronomie  scribe  in  the  quiet 
seclusion  of  his  study,  or  whatever  corresponded  to 
a  study  in  those  days,  might  enjoin  wholesale 
massacres  without  compunction ;  but  he  might  have 
shrunk  from  putting  into  force  his  own  laws  on 
real  living  men,  women,  and  children. 

At  the  same  time,  the  available  evidence  makes 
it  probable  that,  if  Judah  had  continued  an  in- 
dependent State,  the  development  of  its  legal 
system  would  have  been  in  the  direction  of 
humanity  and  righteousness,  under  the  influence  of 
the  prophets  of  the  school  of  Isaiah,  Jeremiah,  and 
Ezekiel,  and  of  the  priests  who  shared  their  views. 
For  instance,  according  to  ancient  law,  if  a  man 
were  guilty  of  a  heinous  offence,  his  family  might 
share  his  punishment  (e.g.  Achan,  Jos  7*"-,  and  the 
kinsfolk  of  Saul,  2  S  211"9).  But  Dt  2418  forbids 
the  practice.  Again,  marriage  with  a  half-sister 
was  regarded  as  lawful  for  Abraham  (Gn  2012  [E]) 
and  for  Amnon  (2  S  1313),  but  is  forbidden  by  Lv  IS9. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  later  legislation  shows  a 
tendency  to  religious  fanaticism,  and  towards  the 
subordination  of  public  welfare  to  the  material 
interests  of  the  priesthood  ;  and  probably  this 
tendency  would  not  have  been  altogether  defeated 
if  Judah  had  remained  an  independent  State. 

The  final  redactors  of  the  Torah  combined  the 
various  earlier  and  later  codes,  without  attempting 
to  reconcile  or  co-ordinate  them ;  equal  sanction  .' 


was  given  to  inconsistent  laws ;  crude,  primitive 
customs  were  placed  on  the  same  level  as  the  moiu, 
humane  enactments  of  later  times.  Obviously  this 
happened  because  these  Babylonian  Jews  were 
compiling  a  record,  and  not  providing  for  practical 
needs. 

2.  Classification. — There  is  no  formal  classifica- 
tion, but  certain  principles  are  implied.  The 
inclusion  of  secular  laws  in  the  Torah  indicates 
that  all  crime  was  regarded  as  sin  against  God,  and 
that  the  administration  of  justice  rested  on  Divine 
authority.  This  is  an  axiom  of  all  religions  as  to 
the  ideal  State ;  but  it  was  more  emphasized  in 
ancient  times  than  it  is  now,  because  religion  and 
the  State  were  more  intimately  associated,  Ham- 
murabi,  for  instance,  receives  his  laws  from  the 
sun-god,  Shamash.  Ezk  2025  is  a  striking  illustra- 
tion of  the  way  in  which  the  actual  legal  system  0/ 
Israel  was  regarded  as  a  Divine  institution  ;  even 
iniquitous  laws  are  imposed  by  God  as  a  punish- 
ment :  '  Moreover  also  I  gave  them  statutes  that 
were  not  good,  and  judgments  wherein  they  should 
not  live.'  On  the  other  hand,  the  protests  of  the 
pre-exilic  prophets  against  the  corruptions  of  their 
times  involve  a  distinction  between  secular  and 
Divine  law  ;  the  two  might  clash. 

The  modern  recognition  of  purely  religious 
offences,  with  which  the  State  does  not  deal,  is  not 
found  in  the  OT.  As  in  mediaeval  Christendom, 
such  offences  might  incur  secular  as  well  as  re 
ligious  penalties  ;  the  idolater  was  to  be  put  to 
death.  Again,  the  Law  does  not  clearly  distinguish 
between  human  punishment  and  Divine  visitation  ; 
the  penalties  of  similar  offences  may  include  both  ; 
e.g.  in  Lv  20  some  forms  of  sexual  immorality  are 
to  be  punished  with  death  ;  in  other  cases  it  is  said 
that  the  culprits  will  die  childless.  The  prominence 
given  to  Divine  visitation  suggests  a  distinction 
between  crimes  which  can  be  detected  and  punished 
by  men  and  those  hidden  from  men,  but  known  to 
God,  and  dealt  with  directly  by  Him.  The  imposi- 
tion of  a  fine  for  such  offences  as  homicide  and 
seduction  (II.  2.  (_/))  shows  that  these  were  regarded 
partly  as  offences  against  property. 

There  is  a  distinction  drawn  between  wrongs 
done  to  a  free  Israelite,  to  a  slave,  and  to  foreigners 
respectively ;  e.g.  the  slaying  of  a  free  man  is 
severely  punished,  but  a  slave  may  be  beaten  to 
death  provided  he  does  not  actually  die  under  the 
rod  (Ex  2120'-) ;  if  an  ox  known  to  be  dangerous 
kills  a  free  man,  the  owner  may  be  put  to  death 
(Ex  2129) ;  but,  if  the  victim  is  a  slave,  thirty 
shekels  are  paid  to  his  master  (v.32).  '  The  stranger 
within  thy  gates '  (the  ger,  or  '  resident  alien ') 
enjoyed  the  protection  of  the  law,  and  alliances 
were  maintained  with  some  neighbouring  States  ; 
otherwise  history  suggests  that  might  was  mostly 
right  along  the  borders  ;  cf.  David's  doings  in  the 
Negeb  (1  S  278'-),  the  Danite  conquest  of  Laish 
(Jg  18),  and  the  exploits  of  Samson  (Jg  14  f.). 

3.  Range  of  offences. — The  list  of  omissions  and 
commissions  recognized  aB  crimes  indicates  a  high 
moral  standard.  The  wrongfulness  of  ritual  irregu- 
larities is,  indeed,  exaggerated  by  treating  them  as 
sins  and  crimes.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Penta- 
teuch strives  to  promote  social  righteousness  in 
many  matters  which  modern  law  does  not  venture 
to  deal  with  ;  e.g.  Dt  2415  enjoins  the  prompt  pay- 
ment of  wages,  and  Lv  19n  forbids  lying.  But  the 
difference  is  only  apparent ;  the  Pentateuch  com- 
bines moral  admonition  with  legislation,  and  draws 
no  hard  and  fast  line  between  the  two.  Again,  the 
comparatively  low  stage  of  social  development 
reached  by  the  Israelites  excuses  such  blots  as 
the  toleration  of  polygamy  and  slavery,  and  the 
absence  of  any  full  recognition  of  international 
morality. 

4.  Subjects    of    punishment. — In    some    cases 


UKIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Hindu> 


animals  were  put  to  death  ;  e.g.  an  ox  that  had 
gored  a  man  or  woman  was  to  be  stoned,  and  its 
flesh  might  not  be  eaten  (Ex  2128-29-82,  cf.  Lv  201"-). 
Animals  and  even  goods  which  could  be  burnt 
might  be  destroyed  in  the  herem,  or  ban  (Jos  724). 
In  earlier  times  the  family  might  be  put  to  death  for 
a  crime  committed  by  its  head  (cf.  III.  I),  but  the 
practice  is  forbidden,  as  already  noted,  in  Dt  2416. 

There  is  nothing  to  show  at  what  age  young 
persons  became  legally  responsible  for  their  actions. 
The  census  in  Nu  Is  included  all  males  from  twenty 
years  old  ;  and  the  age  at  which  Levites  began 
their  service  is  variously  given  as  twenty-five 
(Nu  8"),  or  thirty  (435),  although  responsibility 
must  have  begun  earlier.  Nothing  is  said  as  to 
exemption  from  punishment  on  account  of  mental 
•weakness. 

Naturally  the  legal  codes  did  not  recognize  the 
principle  that  the  powerful  and  wealthy  might 
commit  crimes  with  impunity ;  but  they  often 
enjoyed  much  licence  in  practice,  as  is  shown  by 
the  narratives  of  Micah  and  the  Danites  ;  of  David 
and  Uriah ;  Amnon,  Tamar,  and  Absalom  ;  and 
the  frequent  protests  of  the  prophets. 

5.  Humanity  :  adjustment  of  severity  of  punish- 
ment to  heinousness  of  crime. — The  legal  codes 
were  evidently  anxious  that  the  punishment  should 
be  justly  proportioned  to  the  offence,  hence  the 
obvious  principle  of  equal  retaliation,  found  in  the 
codes  of  many  peoples,  of  an  '  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a 
tooth  for  a  tooth,'  and  the  laws  providing  for 
compensation  for  injury  to  property  or  person. 

The  list  of  capital  offences  (II.  2.  [a))  is  a  little 
long,  and  includes  some  which,  according  to  modern 
ideas,  do  not  permit  so  severe  a  punishment,  e.g. 
insult  to  parents,  Sabbath-breaking,  etc.  But,  as 
we  have  said,  it  is  doubtful  whether  death  was  ever 
regularly  inflicted  for  ritual  offences  ;  and,  at  any 
rate,  the  laws  are  due  to  an  exaggerated  sense  of 
the  wickedness  of  such  acts  rather  than  to  reckless 
severity.  The  use  of  barbarous  punishments — 
burning  alive,  mutilation,  and  flogging — is  strictly 
limited  ;  and  there  is  no  trace,  either  in  the  Law 
or  in  the  history,  of  the  torturing  of  witnesses  or 
accused  persons  in  order  to  obtain  evidence. 

The  principle  of  blood-money  is  recognized  only 
to  a  very  limited  extent :  Ex  2128'32  provides  that, 
if  an  ox  known  to  be  dangerous  kill  any  one,  the 
owner  shall  be  put  to  death,  but  that  '  if  there  be 
laid  upon  him  a  ransom,  then  he  shall  give  for  the 
redemption  of  his  life  whatsoever  is  laid  upon  him ' 
— in  the  case  of  a  slave  thirty  shekels  to  the  slave's 
owner.  Similarly,  any  one  flogging  his  slave  to 
death,  without  the  slave  actually  dying  under  the 
rod,  is  sufficiently  punished  by  the  loss  of  his  slave 
(Ex  2120f-) ;  and  in  the  case  of  injury  to  slaves  the 
lex  talionis  is  not  to  be  enforced,  any  mutilation  of 
slaves  being  atoned  for  by  emancipation  (Ex  2126'-). 
So,  too,  Ex  2118-19  permits  compensation  for  bodily 
injury  to  a  free  man.  On  the  other  hand,  Nu 
3531. 82  (p)  prohibits  the  acceptance  of  blood-money 
for  intentional  murder,  or  even  the  release  of  a 
man  who  has  committed  unintentional  homicide 
from  the  obligation  of  remaining  in  a  city  of  refuge 
till  the  death  of  the  high  priest. 

6.  Connexion  with  methods  of  administration  of 
justice  in  other  nations. — Israel  was  always  part  of 
the  international  system  which  comprised  Western 
Asia  and  Egypt ;  and  there  was  a  constant  action 
and  reaction  between  the  various  members  of  this 
system.  At  the  outset,  Israel  was  a  group  of  nomad 
tribes,  and  the  original  basis  of  its  Law  was  the 
tribal  custom  of  the  Bedawln.  The  position  of  the 
go'el,  the  next-of-kin,  the  avenger  of  blood,  goes 
back  to  this  source.  The  settlement  in  Canaan 
must  have  led  to  the  adoption  of  many  Canaanite 
laws.  Now,  Canaan  and  all  Western  Asia  were, 
from  a  very  early  period,  dominated  by  Babylonia  ; 


the  conquests  of  Sargon  1.  of  Akkad  (c.  2700  B.C.) 
extended  to  the  Mediterranean,  so  that  the  institu- 
tions of  Canaan  were  partly  shaped  by  Babylonian 
influence.  But,  again,  both  the  Canaanites  and 
the  Babylonians  probably  sprang  originally  from 
Arabia ;  so  that  Israel,  Canaan,  and  Babylon  all 
drew  from  an  original  common  stock  of  tribal 
customs ;  and  it  is  very  difficult  to  determine 
whether  a  law  is  a  purely  Israelite  survival  from 
this  common  stock,  or  has  been  derived  through 
Canaan  or  Babylon.  Moreover,  during  long  periods 
the  Egyptian  kings  exercised  a  suzerainty  over 
Syria ;  and  Egypt  had  its  share  in  moulding  the 
life  of  Canaan  (cf.  the  Amarna  tablets,  c.  1400 
B.C.).  Something,  too,  may  perhaps  be  due  to  the 
'  bondage '  in  Egypt :  but  not  much,  for  the  Israel- 
ite tribes  for  the  most  part  lived  a  nomad  life  in  the 
border  provinces. 

The  recently  discovered  Code  of  Hammurabi 
(king  of  Babylon,  c.  2100  B.C.)  shows  how  much 
the  Israelite  institutions  had  in  common  with  those 
of  Babylon.  There  are  numerous  parallels  be- 
tween this  Code  and  the  Pentateuch,  especially  the 
ancient  Book  of  the  Covenant,  Ex  SO^^S.  Both, 
for  instance,  lay  down  the  principle  of  an  '  eye 
for  an  eye,'  etc.  ;  both  prescribe  the  punishment  of 
death  for  kidnapping;  and  both  direct  that  if  a 
man  is  in  charge  of  some  one  else's  cattle  he  may 
clear  himself  by  an  oath  and  need  not  make  com- 
pensation. As  the  Code  of  Hammurabi  was  cer- 
tainly known  in  Babylonia  and  Assyria  as  late  as 
the  Exile,  Israelite  legislation  may  nave  been  in- 
fluenced by  it  at  any  time  ;  but  the  parallels  may 
be  largely  due  to  common  dependence  on  the 
primitive  tradition  of  Arabia. 

In  comparing  the  ethical  and  religious  value  of 
Israelite  justice  with  that  of  other  nations,  we  have 
to  distinguish  the  practice  of  the  monarchy  and 
earlier  times,  as  depicted  in  the  history  and  Ex 
2022-23,  from  the  ideal  set  forth  in  Deuteronomy 
and  the  Priestly  laws.  It  will  have  been  seen  that 
our  knowledge  of  the  early  practice  is  fragmentary. 
It  is  possible,  too,  that  the  redactors  of  the  litera- 
ture suppressed  evidence  that  was  discreditable  to 
Israel,  though  it  is  not  likely  that  this  has  been 
done  to  any  great  extent.  But,  as  far  as  our 
information  goes,  it  does  not  appear  that  the 
administration  of  justice  in  ancient  Israel  differed 
conspicuously  from  that  of  neighbouring  Semitic 
nations  in  the  same  period,  as  illustrated,  for 
instance,  by  the  Code  of  Hammurabi.  And  in  such 
matters  Israel  would  compare  favourably  with 
Greece,  or  Rome,  or  China,  or  with  most  Christian 
nations  before  the  close  of  the  18th  cent.  A.D. 

The  Deuteronomic  and  Priestly  ideal  aims  at  a 
level  of  social  righteousness  which  has  never  been 
attained  in  practice,  and  ranks  with  the  Utopias  of 
modern  social  reformers.  .  The  Priestly  legislation 
is,  indeed,  disfigured  by  an  undue  care  for  th» 
material  interests  of  the  sacerdotal  caste ;  bu 
neither  the  practice  nor  the  theory  of  the  religious 
law  of  Israel  includes  anything  like  the  Inquisition 
and  similar  systems  instituted  by  the  Christian 
Church. 

Literature. — Art.  '  Crimes  and  Punishments,'  in  HBB ;  artt 
•Law  and  Justice,'  in  EBi,  and  'Gericht  und  Eecht  bei  del 
Hebraern,'  in  PRJE3  (by  Benzinger) ;  the  relevant  sections  0! 
the  OT  Archaeologies  of  Ewald,  Benzinger,  and  Nowack  ;  anc 
the  standard  commentaries  on  the  Pentateuch  and  other  Biblica, 
passages.  For  the  Code  of  Hammurabi,  see  the  art.  on  that  sub- 
ject by  C.  H.  W.  Johns  in  HDB,  vol.  v.  p.  684,  and  S.  A. 
Cook,  The  Laws  of  Moses  and  the  Code  of  Hammurabi,  London. 

1903.  w~  H.  Bennett. 

CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Hindu). 
— I.  Most  of  the  terms  designating  '  crime '  or 
'  offence '  in  Sanskrit  are  essentially  religious  in 
their  nature,  and  no  strict  line  between  sins  and 
punishable  offences  has  ever  been  drawn.  The 
Vharniaiastras  (law-books)  contain  long  lists  of  the 


284 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Hindu) 


various  degrees  of  crime  or  guilt — from  mortal  sins, 
such  as  sexual  intercourse  with  one's  mother, 
daughter,  or  daughter-in-law,  down  to  crimes 
merely  rendering  the  perpetrator  unworthy  to 
receive  alms,  such  as  receiving  gifts  from  a  despic- 
able person,  subsisting  by  money-lending,  telling 
lies,  serving  a  sudra,  or  to  crimes  causing  defile- 
ment, such  as  killing  birds,  amphibious  and  aquatic 
animals,  worms  or  insects,  and  eating  nutmegs  and 
the  like.  Analogous  lists  of  sins  may  be  found  in 
the  ancient  religious  literature  of  the  Buddhists  of 
India.  Many  of  these  sins  recur  among  the  offences 
mentioned  in  the  secular  laws  of  the  Brahmans. 
Thus  the  killing  of  a  cow,  the  sacred  animal  of  the 
Hindus,  is  a  punishable  offence  as  well  as  a  crime. 
The  commission  of  a  heavy  sexual  offence  is  to  be 
visited  with  punishment  by  the  king,  and  at  the 
same  time  the  stain  caused  by  such  sin  is  to  be 
removed  by  religious  atonement.  Killing  a  Brah- 
man, or  depriving  him  of  his  gold,  is  a  crime 
deserving  capital  punishment  of  an  aggravated 
form,  no  doubt  because  the  religious  law  affords 
special  protection  to  the  sacred  person  of  a 
Brahman.  Many  eccentricities  of  the  criminal 
law  are  due  to  the  religious  element  entering 
largely  into  it.  Thus  the  sacredness  ascribed  to 
the  Vedas  comes  out  in  the  following  rules :  a 
Sudra  listening  intentionally  to  a  recitation  of  the 
Veda  shall  have  his  ears  filled  with  molten  tin  or 
lac ;  if  he  recites  Vedic  texts,  his  tongue  shall  be 
cut  out ;  if  he  remembers  them,  his  body  shall  be 
split  in  twain.  The  sanctity  with  which  Brahmans 
are  invested  has  led  to  establishing  the  principle 
that  no  corporal  punishment  shall  ever  be  resorted 
to  in  the  case  of  a  criminal  of  the  Brahman  caste. 
Nor  could  the  banishment  of  a  Brahman  be  con- 
nected with  the  confiscation  of  his  property,  the 
ordinary  consequence  of  banishment.  The  £udras, 
on  the  other  hand,  were  treated  very  badly,  be- 
cause they  were  considered  to  have  no  share  in  the 
re-birth  caused  for  the  higher  castes  by  their 
initiation  with  a  sacred  prayer  from  the  Vedas. 
Thus,  e.g.,  a  Brahman  who  abuses  a  Sudra  is 
condemned  to  pay  no  tine.  A  Sudra,  on  the  con- 
trary, undergoes  corporal  punishment,  if  he  only 
assumes  a  position  equal  to  a  member  of  a  high 
caste,  in  sitting,  in  lying  down,  in  conversation,  or 
on  a  road.  Money-lending  is  viewed  as  an  unholy 
act ;  Brahmans  are,  therefore,  forbidden  to  practise 
usury.  Certain  kinds  of  interest  on  loans  are 
entirely  prohibited.  Among  sexual  crimes,  inter- 
course with  the  wife  of  a  spiritual  teacher  is  looked 
upon  as  a  very  heavy  offence,  equal  to  incest,  and 
so  is  intercourse  with  a  Buddhist  nun.  Gambling 
is  stigmatized  as  a  sinful  practice,  though  some 
legislators  do  not  object  to  gambling  in  a  public 
gaming-house,  where  the  king  may  raise  a  certain 
percentage  on  the  stakes.  False  witnesses  are  de- 
signated as  thieves  of  words.  Heaven  is  the  reward 
of  a  witness  who  speaks  truth  ;  in  the  contrary 
case,  hell  will  be  his  portion.  Other  crimes  of  the 
Brahmanical  law  savour  of  Oriental  despotism,  as, 
e.g.,  when  the  forgery  of  a  royal  document  is 
visited  with  capital  punishment.  The  caste  system 
becomes  visible  in  the  gradation  of  crimes  and 
punishments  according  to  the  caste  of  the  offender, 
as  will  be  shown  below. 

2.  '  Punishment '  {danda)  in  the  Code  of  Manu 
(vii.  14  ff.)  is  personified  as  a  god  with  a  black  hue 
and  red  eyes,  created  by  the  Lord  of  the  World 
as  his  son,  and  as  an  incarnation  of  Law,  formed  of 
Brahman's  glory.  Punishment  is  declared  to  keep 
the  whole  world  in  order,  since  without  it  the 
stronger  would  oppress  the  weaker  and  roast  them, 
like  fish  on  a  spit ;  the  crow  would  eat  the  conse- 
crated rice  ;  the  dog  would  lick  the  burnt  oblation  ; 
ownership  would  not  remain  with  any  one  ;  and 
all  barriers  would  be  broken  through.     Punishment 


is  declared  to  be  in  truth  the  king  and  ruler, 
although  it  has  to  be  inflicted  by  the  king  on  those 
who  deserve  it.  The  king  in  person  should  every 
day  decide  causes  in  the  court  when  brought  before 
him,  or  else  he  should  send  a  Brahman  acting  as  his 
deputy.  A  king  when  punishing  the  wicked  is 
comparable  to  the  god  Varuna,  who  binds  a  sinner 
with  ropes.  If  a  king  does  not  strike  a  thief  who 
approaches  him,  holding  a  club  in  his  hand  and 
proclaiming  his  deed,  the  guilt  falls  on  the  king  ; 
the  thief,  whether  he  be  slain  or  pardoned,  ia 
purified  of  his  guilt.  The  king  should  first  punish 
by  admonition,  afterwards  by  reproof,  thirdly  by  a 
fine,  after  that  by  corporal  chastisement  (Manu,  viii. 
129).  As  a  matter  of  fact,  fines  are  by  far  the  most 
common  kind  of  punishment  in  the  criminal  code 
of  the  Sanskrit  law-books,  and  they  were  equally 
common,  shortly  before  the  times  of  British  rule,  in 
the  Hindu  kingdoms  of  Rajputana  (Tod),  Mysore 
(Dubois),  and  others.  The  tines  might  extend  to 
confiscation  of  the  entire  property  of  a  criminal ; 
but  in  such  cases,  according  to  Narada  (xviii.  10  f.), 
the  tools  of  workmen,  the  weapons  of  soldiers, 
and  other  necessary  implements  are  to  be  exempt 
from  confiscation.  Capital  punishment,  in  various 
aggravated  forms,  such  as  impaling  on  a  stake, 
trampling  to  death  by  an  elephant,  burning,  roast- 
ing, cutting  to  pieces,  devouring  by  dogs,  and 
mutilations,  are  also  frequently  inflicted,  even  for 
comparatively  light  offences.  The  jus  talionis, 
which  is  so  universally  represented  in  archaic  legis- 
lations, becomes  especially  conspicuous  in  these 
punishments.  Thus  a  criminal  is  condemned  to 
lose  whatever  limb  he  has  used  in  insulting  or 
attacking  another.  The  thievish  fingers  of  a  cut- 
purse,  and  the  evil  tongue  of  a  calumniator,  are  to 
be  cut  off'.  A  Sudra  using  insulting  language  is  to 
have  a  red-hot  iron  thrust  into  his  mouth,  or  boiling 
oil  dropped  into  his  mouth  and  ears.  The  breaker  of 
a  dike  shall  be  drowned.  The  killer  of  a  Brahman 
shall  be  branded  with  the  figure  of  a  headless 
corpse,  a  drunkard  with  the  flag  of  a  distillery 
shop.  Banishment,  public  disgrace,  imprisonment, 
fetters,  forced  labour,  beating,  and  other  forms  of 
chastisement  are  also  mentioned.  Brahmans,  how- 
ever, are  not  to  be  subject  to  corporal  punishment. 
Nor  is  this  the  only  privilege  enjoyed  by  Brahmans, 
who  are  allowed  special  indulgences  in  almost  every 
case,  the  reduction  of  punishment  in  consideration 
of  the  rank  of  the  person  being  one  of  the  most 
salient  features  of  the  ancient  legislation  of  India. 
Thus  a  Ksatriya  insulting  a  Brahman  must  be 
fined  100  panas ;  a  Vaisya  doing  the  same,  150  or 
200  panas ;  a  Sudra  doing  the  same  must  receive 
corporal  punishment.  On  the  other  hand,  a  Brah- 
man shall  pay  only  50  panas  for  insulting  a 
Ksatriya,  25  panas  for  insulting  a  Vaisya,  and 
nothing  at  all  for  insulting  a  Sudra.  A  similar 
gradation  of  fines  may  be  observed  in  the  punish- 
ment of  adultery  and  many  other  crimes.  If  a  man 
insults  a  Brahman  by  ottering  him  forbidden  food, 
he  shall  be  amerced  in  a  heavy  fine ;  and,  if  he 
gives  him  spirituous  liquor  to  drink,  he  shall  be 
put  to  death.  Another  characteristic  feature  of 
the  Indian  criminal  code  is  the  infliction  of  worldly 
punishments  for  violations  of  the  religious  law,  as, 
e.g.,  when  an  apostate  from  religious  mendicity  is 
doomed  to  become  the  king's  slave.  King  Asoka, 
as  early  as  the  3rd  cent.  B.C.,  appointed  censors 
who  were  charged  to  enforce  the  regulations  con- 
cerning the  sanctity  of  animal  life,  and  the  observ- 
ance of  filial  piety.  King  Harsa,  in  the  7th  cent. 
A.D.,  inflicted  capital  punishment  on  all  who 
ventured  to  slay  any  living  creature.  King 
Kumarapala  of  Gujarat,  in  the  12th  cent.,  is  said 
to  have  confiscated  the  entire  property  of  a  mer- 
chant who  had  committed  the  atrocious  crime  of 
cracking  a  louse.     A  Hindu  Raja  of  Kolhapur,  in 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Japanese) 


288 


A.D.  1716,  issued  a  rescript  ordaining  clue  punish- 
ment for  all  those  who  should  be  discovered  to 
entertain  heretical  opinions  in  his  kingdom.  This 
union  of  Church  and  State  was  specially  marked 
under  the  rule  of  the  Maratha  kings ;  but  even 
in  1875,  when  Dr.  Buhler  visited  Kashmir,  he 
found  the  Maharaja  eagerly  intent  on  looking 
after  the  due  performance  of  the  prayaichittas,  or 
penances  prescribed  for  breaches  of  the  command- 
ments of  the  Smfti.  The  enforcement  of  these 
religious  punishments  otherwise  rests  with  the 
caste,  which  levies  fines  for  every  breach  of  the  caste 
rules,  and,  in  serious  cases,  excludes  the  offender. 
(See  Expiation  and  Atonement  [Hindu].) 

Literature. — G.  Biihler's  and  J.  Jolly's  translations  of 
Sanskrit  law-bookB,  SEE,  vols.  ii.  vii.  xiv.  xxv.  xxxiii. ;  J.  Tod, 
Annals  and  Antiquities  of  Rajasthan,  re  vised  ed.,  Calcutta,  1894; 
J.  A.  Dubois,  Hindu  Manners,  Customs,  and  Ceremonies,  tr. 
by  Beauchamp,  2nd  ed.,  Oxford,  1899;  Sir  R.  West,  'The 
Criminal  Law  and  Procedure  of  the  Ancient  Hindus,'  Indian 
Maqazine,  1S93;  V.A.Smith,  The  Early  History  of  India?,  Ox- 
ford, 1908  ;  K.  T.  Telang,  'Gleanings  from  Maratha  Chronicles,' 
Trans.  9th  Conqr.  of  Orientalists,  London,  1893  ;  A.  Steele,  The 
Law  and  Custom  of  Hindoo  Castes,  new  ed.,  London,  1868 ; 
J.  Jolly,  Rechtund  Sitte,  Strassburg,  1896,  pp.  116-448  (  =  GIAP 

ri-  8).  J.  Jolly. 

CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Japan- 
ese).— Long  before  the  dawn  of  Japanese  history, 
Chinese  travellers  to  Japan  brought  back  accounts 
of  that  country  which  contain  our  earliest  informa- 
tion on  this  subject,  dating  from  the  later  Han 
dynasty  (A.D.  25-220).  One  of  these  notices  says  : 
'There  is  no  theft,  and  litigation  is  unfrequent. 
The  wives  and  children  of  those  who  break  the 
laws  are  confiscated  [sold  as  slaves],  and  for  grave 
crimes  the  offender's  family  is  extirpated. '  Another 
account  says  :  '  The  laws  and  customs  are  strict. ' 
There  is  not  much  to  be  learned  about  crimes  and 
punishments  from  the  mixture  of  myth,  legend, 
and  chronicle  which  takes  the  place  of  history  in 
Japan  for  a  thousand  years  previous  to  the  7th 
cent.  A.D.,  though  we  hear  of  a  staff  or  gild  of 
executioners,  and  of  capital  punishment  by  decapi- 
tation ;  and  a  punishment  by  fine  had  its  origin  at 
this  time,  but  it  was  only  for  such  offences — com- 
paratively few  in  number — as  involved  ritual  un- 
cleanness  according  to  Shinto.  An  ordinance, 
enacted  in  801,  regularized  what  was,  no  doubt, 
an  old  practice,  by  which  neglect  in  connexion 
with  the  ohonihe,  or  coronation  ceremony,  the 
eating  of  flesh,  visiting  the  sick,  being  concerned 
in  any  way  with  capital  sentences,  or  touching 
anything  impure  during  the  month  of  special 
avoidance  of  impurity,  subjected  the  culprit  to 
an  ohoharahi  ('greater  purification'),  i.e.  he  was 
obliged  to  provide  the  materials  for  the  ceremony 
of  his  own  purgation.  This  eventually  became 
simply  a  fine.  Other  ritual  offences  which  required 
purgation  were  incest,  wounds  given  or  received, 
bestiality,  and  leprosy.  Homicide  had  to  be  atoned 
for  in  the  same  way,  but  the  ritual  character  of  the 
offence  appears  from  the'  circumstance  that  even 
justifiable  homicide  caused  uncleanness. 

Weipert  thinks  that  in  these  fines  for  ceremonial  purification 
we  have  '  the  first  source  of  Japanese  criminal  law '  (quoted  by 
Florenz  in  TASJ  xxvii.  [1899]  57) ;  but,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
present  writer,  the  evidence  hardly  bears  out  this  conclusion. 
Weipert's  theory  does  not  account  for  the  gravest  of  all  punish- 
ments, that  of  death,  nor  does  it  apply  tS  robbery,  rebellion, 
adultery,  arson,  and  other  grave  offences.  Moreover,  the  abso- 
lution ceremony  was  seldom  performed  for  individual  offences. 
The  Mikado  twice  a  year  celebrated  a  '  great  purification '  of 
the  offences  of  the  nation,  and  similar  minor  celebrations  were 
usual  before  all  the  great  ceremonies  of  Shinto.  In  such  cases, 
of  course,  the  idea  of  a  fine  was  out  of  the  question.  There 
Is  abundant  evidence  that  a  criminal  law  existed  from  very 
ancient  times  which  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  purgation  of 
ritual  offences. 

Eventually  the  fines  for  ceremonial  offences  fell 
into  abeyance,  owing  to  a  strong  current  of  Chinese 
influence  which  set  in  during  the  6th  and  7th  cents., 
and  which  led  in  702  to  the  enactment  of  the  code 
of  civil  and  criminal  law  known  as  the  Taihorio. 


It  was  based  on  the  laws  of  the  Tang  dynasty  of 
China,  though  modified  somewhat  in  accordance 
with  Japanese  usages.  The  penalties  prescribed 
were  five,  viz.  capital  punishment,  exile,  penal  ser- 
vitude, beating  (with  a  stick),  and  scourging  (with 
a  whip).  These  are  simply  copied  from  the  Chinese 
code.  Of  the  older  five  punishments  of  China — 
branding  on  the  forehead,  cutting  off  the  nose, 
maiming,  castration,  and  death — only  the  first 
and  last  were  ever  practised  in  Japan.  A  History 
of  Japan,  published  by  order  of  the  Japanese 
Government  (1S93),  mentions  'treason,  contumely 
(slander  [?]),  unfilial  conduct,  immorality,  and  so 
forth '  [sic],  as  the  eight  great  crimes  of  the  Tai- 
horio. Perhaps  the  excuse  for  this  very  unsatis- 
factory enumeration  is  the  circumstance  that  a 
very  substantial  part  of  this  code  has  not  come 
down  to  us.  It  is  the  basis  of  all  subsequent  legis- 
lation. When  the  TaikB  Hideyoshi  came  into  power, 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  16th  cent.,  he  contemplated 
its  re-enactment  for  the  whole  country,  but  he  died 
before  giving  any  practical  effect  to  his  intention. 

At  first  the  Tokugawa  Shoguns  (1600-1868)  fol- 
lowed the  old  method  of  making  the  laws  known 
to  those  only  who  were  required  to  enforce  them. 
But  this  rule  was  subsequently  modified.  New 
laws  were  read  to  the  people,  and  inscribed  on 
notice-boards  set  up  in  conspicuous  places.  Towards 
the  end  of  the  Tokugawa  period,  a  reaction  to  the 
former  policy  took  place.  The  authorities  con- 
sidered it  expedient  to  keep  the  people  in  ignorance 
of  all  but  the  most  general  principles  of  criminal 
law,  thinking  that  the  unknown  would  inspire 
greater  terror.  Such  meagre  information  as  they 
vouchsafed  to  the  people  was  contained  in  a  few 
brief  edicts  inscribed  on  notice-boards  at  the  Nihon- 
bashi  in  Yedo  and  other  conspicuous  places  through- 
out the  Empire,  prohibiting  the  evil  sect  called 
Christian,  conspiracy,  insurrection,  plotting  to  leave 
the  village  to  which  one  belonged,  murder,  arson, 
and  robbery.  That  was  all.  This  system  left  room 
for  much  that  was  arbitrary  in  the  administration 
of  the  law,  which  varied  considerably  in  different 
parts  of  the  Empire.  The  judicial  officials  did  very 
much  as  they  pleased. 

A  Japanese  servant  of  a  member  of  H.M.'s  Legation  stole  a 
few  dollars,  and  was  handed  over  to  justice.  Three  months 
later,  a  visit  was  received  from  an  official,  who  gave  his  master 
the  option  of  having  him  released — there  was  no  room  for  him, 
it  was  explained,  in  the  prison — or  decapitated.  Needless  to 
say,  the  former  alternative  was  accepted. 

One  of  the  worst  features  of  the  early  Tokugawa 
legislation  was  the  implication  of  the  offender's 
family  in  the  crimes  of  its  head. 

'  If  a  man  or  woman,  sentenced  to  be  crucified  or  burned,  had 
male  children  above  16  years  of  age,  they  were  similarly  exe- 
cuted, and  younger  children  were  placed  in  charge  of  a  relative 
until  they  reached  that  age,  when  they  were  banished.  Even 
when  a  parent  suffered  the  ordinary  capital  punishment  of 
beheading  or  hanging,  it  was  within  the  discretion  of  the  judge 
to  execute  or  exile  the  male  children.  Wives  and  daughters 
were  exempted  from  the  rule  of  implication,  though  they  might 
be  reduced  to  the  ranks  of  slaves '  (Brinkley,  Japan,  iv.  66). 

Thunberg  (Travels  in  Europe,  Africa,  Asia,  Eng. 
tr.  1795-96)  says  that,  in  the  towns,  a  whole  street 
was  often  made  to  suffer  for  the  malpractices  of  a 
single  individual,  the  master  of  a  house  for  the 
faults  of  his  domestics,  and  parents  for  those  of 
their  children.  These  cruel  provisions  were  greatly 
modified  in  1721,  but  the  more  lenient  rules  were 
not  applicable  to  the  samurai  class.  Theft  was 
severely  punished,  usually  with  death,  which  was 
the  penalty  also  for  swindling  or  attempted  extor- 
tion by  force.  Pickpockets,  however,  were  let  off 
with  branding,  or  rather  tatuing,  though  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  offence  involved  death.  Not  before  the 
close  of  the  18th  cent,  was  the  execution  of  a  preg- 
nant woman  deferred  until  after  her  delivery. 

The  law  up  to  the  close  of  the  Tokugawa  period 
required  that  an  accused  person  must  be  induced 
to  confess  before  his  guilt  was  finally  determined. 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Japanese) 


The  result  was  that,  in  many  cases,  torture  was 
freely  applied.  The  commonest  device  was  to  bind 
a  man  with  ropes  in  some  constrained  position,  or 
to  make  him  kneel  upon  a  grating  of  wooden  bars 
placed  edge  upwards,  and  then  to  pile  weights  on 
his  knees.  On  the  whole,  the  tortures  employed 
judicially  in  Japan  were  not  so  cruel  as  those  used 
in  mediaeval  Europe.  A  samurai  was  not  sent  to 
prison.  If  his  offence  was  not  grave  enough  to  call 
for  immediate  suicide,  exile,  or  decapitation,  he 
was  ordered  to  go  into  confinement  in  his  own 
house.  There  were  different  degrees  of  this  kind 
of  imprisonment,  the  most  severe  of  which  involved 
a  complete  cessation  of  egress  and  ingress  for  him- 
self and  his  family. 

Siebold,  writing  early  in  the  19th  cent.,  gives  a 
description  of  the  penal  code  of  Japan  at  that  time, 
which  was  similar  in  all  essential  respects  to  the 
Taihorio,  introduced  from  China  1100  years  before. 
He  draws  a  broad  distinction  between  the  punish- 
ments of  the  samurai  and  those  of  the  common 
people.  In  the  latter  case,  the  culprit  might  be 
simply  cut  down  by  the  man  of  higher  rank  whom 
he  might  have  insulted  or  injured,  or  if  he  had 
been  caught  in  the  act  of  committing  a  grave 
offence.  Decapitation  was  more  usual.  Cruci- 
fixion, burning,  and  sawing  off  the  head  with  a 
bamboo  saw  were  also  practised.  There  were  two 
kinds  of  crucifixion.  In  one  the  criminal  was 
lashed — not  nailed — upside  down  to  a  cross  which 
had  two  bars,  one  at  the  head  and  one  at  the  feet, 
between  the  two  being  a  small  seat  upon  which  the 
weight  of  the  victim  rested.  At  a  given  command 
an  expert  spearsman  stood  on  each  side,  and  the 
two  drove  their  spears  simultaneously  so  that  they 
passed  crosswise  through  the  vital  organs.  Death 
was  instantaneous.  Burning  was  a  matter  of  form. 
The  culprit  was  tied  to  a  stake  and  strangled  before 
the  fire  was  lit.  Sawing  off  the  head  was  of  rare 
occurrence,  and  was  limited  to  such  heinous  crimes 
as  chief-  or  parent-murder.  The  name  and  offence 
of  the  criminal  were  usually  inscribed  on  a  board 
which  was  set  up  close  to  the  place  of  execution. 
Sometimes  the  offender  was  mounted  on  a  sorry 
nag  and  led  round  the  city,  with  a  similar  placard 
fastened  to  his  breast.  The  head  might  be  set  on 
a  post,  and  allowed  to  remain  from  five  to  ten  days. 
Sometimes  the  body  was  hacked  to  pieces,  or  made 
a  subject  on  which  the  samurai  might  test  their 
skill  and  the  temper  of  their  swords.  In  later  times 
it  might  be  handed  over  for  dissection.  Among 
minor  punishments  at  this  period  were  branding, 
the  pillory,  and  degradation  to  the  hinin,  or  pariah 
caste.  For  political  offences  by  men  of  the  samurai 
class,  banishment  to  an  island  was  the  usual  form 
of  punishment ;  and  there  is  an  ancient  instance 
of  a  Mikado  being  so  punished.  The  term  was 
commonly  for  life,  though  there  was  a  minimum 
limit  of  five  years.  A  milder  form  was  an  injunc- 
tion to  live  under  supervision  at  a  distance  from 
the  capital.  Whilst  his  case  was  under  trial,  the 
accused  was  confined  to  his  own  house,  with  the 
same  forms  as  if  he  were  in  mourning.  When  the 
offence  was  committed  unintentionally,  a  partial 
or  complete  confiscation  of  his  property  might  be 
the  consequence.  Deprivation  of  office  or  incapacity 
for  holding  office  was  not  unusual.  Occasionally 
the  offender  was  allowed  to  become  a  monk  of  a 
certain  order,  known  as  komuso,  who  wore  a  basket- 
hat  with  a  small  grating  in  front,  completely  con- 
cealing his  face.  .This  was  never  removed,  and 
practically  he  was  a  beggar  who  roamed  the  high- 
ways, playing  on  a  flute  in  order  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  charitably  disposed. 

Harakiri. — This  well-known  institution  is  of 
considerable  antiquity.  It  is  of  purely  Japanese 
origin,  and  consists  in  making  a  cruciform  incision 
on  the  belly,  whence  its  name,  which  means  *  belly- 


cut.'  The  '  happy  dispatch '  of  some  writeis  is  only 
a  joke.  Sometimes  a  determined  man  succeeded 
in  ending  his  life  in  this  way,  or  he  might  complete 
the  act  of  suicide  by  stabbing  himself  in  the  throat 
with  the  same  instrument — a  short  sword  or  dagger 
with  a  blade  nine  inches  in  length.  Harakiri  might 
be  simply  a  form  of  suicide,  or  it  might  be  the  duty 
of  a  man  of  the  samurai  class  under  various  cir- 
cumstances, such  as  hopeless  family  troubles  or 
loyalty  to  a  dead  superior,  or  as  a  protest  against 
the  wrongful  conduct  of  a  superior.  For  example, 
when  the  Japanese  Government  yielded  to  the  de- 
mands of  France,  Russia,  and  Germany  for  the 
retrocession  of  Liaotung,  forty  military  men  em- 
phasized their  protest  by  committing  suicide  in  the 
time-honoured  fashion.  A  common  motive  was  to 
free  from  punishment  the  family  and  relatives  of 
the  person  involved,  who  would  otherwise,  under 
the  old  law,  have  shared  his  guilt.  Very  fre- 
quently, however,  harakiri  was  no  more  than  an 
honourable  form  of  execution.  It  was  carried  out 
with  great  ceremony,  the  incision  being  only  for 
form's  sake,  and  the  real  execution  consisting  in 
decapitation  by  a  friend.  In  1869,  a  motion  was 
brought  forward  in  the  Japanese  Parliament  in 
favour  of  the  abolition  of  harakiri,  and  200  mem- 
bers out  of  a  house  of  209  votd  against  this  pro- 
posal. Harakiri  is  no  longer  recognized  by  law, 
though  it  cannot  be  said  to  be  extinct. 

Vendetta. — A  Japanese  samurai  was  permitted 
by  law  to  avenge  the  murder  of  a  parent  or  chief ; 
but,  before  exercising  this  right,  he  was  bound  to 

five  notice  to  the  authorities,  and,  when  cutting 
own  his  enemy,  to  repeat  some  such  formula  as 
this  :  'I  am  A.  B.  You  are  X.  Y.,  who  murdered 
my  father  at  such  a  time  in  such  a  place.  There- 
fore do  I  now  slay  you.'  In  justification  of  this 
law,  an  ancient  Chinese  saying  is  often  quoted  to 
the  effect  that  '  a  man  must  not  allow  the  same 
heaven  to  cover  himself  and  his  father's  enemy.' 
It  is  now  abrogated,  but  was  in  vogue  up  to  the 
Restoration  of  1868.  A  teacher  of  the  present 
writer  was  a  victim.  It  is  to  be  observed  that 
fines  have  no  place  in  the  pre-Restoration  legisla- 
tion— a  circumstance  which  is  adverse  to  Weipert's 
view  that  Japanese  criminal  law  had  its  origin  in 
the  imposition  of  fines  on  offenders  against  the 
ritual  law  of  the  older  Shinto.  Kaempfer  (History 
of  Japan,  Glasgow,  1906,  ii.  114)  notices  this  feature 
of  the  former  Japanese  law. 

Extra-territoriality . — When  the  treaties  were 
negotiated  which  opened  Japan  to  foreign  trade  in 
1859,  the  criminal  code  was  in  a  very  unsatisfactory 
condition.  It  was  scarcely  known  to  the  people, 
and  was  administered  in  a  most  irregular,  arbi- 
trary, and  often  cruel  fashion.  It  was  quite  out 
of  the  question  to  ask  foreign  Powers  to  make  their 
subjects  amenable  to  it,  and,  indeed,  the  Japanese 
were  probably  not  sorry  to  be  relieved  of  such 
responsibilities.  Hence  arose  the  so-called  '  extra- 
territorial jurisdiction,'  by  which  the  Japanese 
Government  transferred  to  foreign  Powers  the 
jurisdiction  over  their  subjects  when  the  latter 
were  defendants  in  a  civil  case,  or  the  accused 
under  a  criminal  charge.  When  in  1868  the 
Mikado  resumed  the  reins  of  authority,  it  was 
felt  that  such  an  arrangement  was  contrary  to 
the  dignity  of  the  Japanese  nation,  and  in  any 
case  a  radical  reform  was  a  palpable  necessity  of 
the  situation  in  the  interests  of  humanity  and 
good  government.  A  code  was,  therefore,  drawn 
up  and  promulgated  in  1871.  It  was  simply  a  selec- 
tion from  the  codes  of  the  two  Chinese  dynasties- 
Ming  and  Ts'ing — modifications  being  introduced 
into  the  amount  and  nature  of  the  punishments 
prescribed  for  different  offences.  Barbarous  modes 
of  execution  were  eliminated,  the  death-penalty 
was  greatly  circumscribed;  merciless  and  excessive 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Japanese) 


287 


whippings  were  abolished,  and  the  punishment  of 
imprisonment  with  corrective  labour  was  intro- 
duced for  the  first  time.  A  second  code  was  noti- 
fied in  1873,  by  which  many  new  and  more  humane 
provisions  were  added.  By  these  codes,  an  offender 
who  has  been  sentenced  to  a  term  of  penal  servitude 
is  placed  in  the  penitentiary  of  the  district  in  which 
he  has  been  tried  and  sentenced,  and  work  suited 
to  his  age,  physical  condition,  and  acquirements  is 
allotted  to  him,  so  that  '  by  toil  and  labour  he  may 
be  gradually  brought  to  repent  of  his  past  misdeeds 
and  be  restored  to  virtue.'  The  punishment  of 
death  was  by  hanging  or  decapitation,  the  latter 
form  being  considered  more  severe  owing  to  the 
prejudice  entertained  by  most  Japanese  against 
any  mutilation  of  the  body.  In  certain  cases,  the 
pillory  in  iron  stocks  within  the  prison  yard  was 
substituted  for  imprisonment,  and  fines  might  be 
permitted  in  the  case  of  offences  by  officials,  per- 
sons inadvertently  implicated,  aged  people,  infants, 
maimed  or  deformed  persons,  or  females. 

But  these  codes  still  preserved  an  essentially 
Chinese  character,  and  they  contained  many  pro- 
visions which  unduly  favoured  officials  and  the 
samurai  class.  A  husband  was  permitted  to  kill 
the  lover  of  his  wife  or  concubine  along  with  the 
woman  herself,  if  caught  in  the  act ;  but,  if  a  cer- 
tain time  had  elapsed,  the  punishment  was  penal 
servitude  for  one  year,  while  under  the  older  law 
the  husband  could,  in  this  case,  only  recover  a 
penalty  of  no  great  amount.  If  a  woman  who  had 
been  guilty  of  adultery  or  incest  was,  on  the  dis- 
covery of  her  guilt,  driven  by  shame  to  commit 
suicide,  the  punishment  of  the  male  offender  was 
increased  one  degree,  even  though  he  might  have 
had  no  knowledge  of  the  woman's  intention  to  do 
so.  Masters  and  parents  were  punished  with  much 
less  severity  for  offences  against  their  servants  and 
children  than  in  the  contrary  case.  Abusive  lan- 
guage to  an  official  entailed  penal  servitude  for 
one  year  if  the  person  insulted  was  of  the  highest 
rank  ;  for  ninety  or  sixty  days  if  of  lower  grades. 
In  Jan.  1879,  the  practice  of  using  torture  to  compel 
confession — rendered  necessary  by  the  old  principle 
that  confession  must  precede  condemnation — was 
abolished,  and  it  was  enacted  that  the  evidence  of 
witnesses,  documents,  or  circumstances,  or  the  ad- 
missions of  accused  persons,  should  alone  be  taken 
as  bases  for  determining  guilt. 

It  will  be  seen  that,  although  these  codes  marked 
a  considerable  advance  on  the  Tokugawa  system, 
they  still  left  much  to  be  desired,  when  viewed 
from  the  more  enlightened  standpoint  of  Europe. 
New  legislation  was  therefore  initiated,  after  a 
thorough  study  of  the  various  systems  of  European 
law,  with  the  assistance  mainly  of  French  jurists. 
Distinguished  service  was  rendered  by  G.  Bois- 
sonade  in  framing  the  new  codes,  which,  after 
arduous  labour  and  repeated  revision,  came  into 
operation  from  1st  Jan.  1882.  They  have  an  essen- 
tially French  character.  A  further  revision  of  the 
Code  of  Criminal  Procedure  was  effected  in  1890. 
B.  H.  Chamberlain,  in  his  Things  Japanese2,  gives 
the  following  account  of  the  present  system  : 

'  Crimes  are  of  three  kinds :  (1)  against  the  State  or  the  Im- 
perial Family,  and  in  violation  of  toe  public  credit,  peace,  and 
health,  etc. ;  (2)  crimes  against  person  and  property ;  and  (3) 
police  offences.  There  is  a  sub-division  of  (1)  and  (2)  into  major 
and  minor  crimes.  The  punishments  for  major  crimes  are  :  (1) 
death  by  hanging ;  (2)  deportation,  with  or  without  hard  labour, 
for  life  or  for  a  term  of  years ;  (3)  imprisonment,  with  or  with- 
out hard  labour,  for  life  or  for  a  term  of  years.  The  punishments 
for  minor  crimes  include  confinement,  with  or  without  hard 
labour,  and  fines.  The  punishments  for  police  offences  are 
detention  for  from  one  to  ten  days  without  hard  labour,  and 
fines  varying  from  6  sen  to  1*95  yen.  The  court  which  tries 
persons  accused  of  major  crimes  consists  of  three  judges  ;  that 
for  minor  crimes,  of  one  judge  or  three,  according  to  the  gravity 
of  the  charge  ;  and  that  for  police  offences,  of  one  juge  de  paix. 
Contrary  to  Western  usage,  an  appeal  is  allowed,  in  the  case  of 
major  crimes,  for  a  trial  of  facta.  Criminals  condemned  to 
*ieportat«cn  are  generally  sent  to  the  island  of  Yezo,  where 


they  sometimes  work  in  the  mines.  A  person  who  has  suffered 
injury  by  crime  lodges  his  complaint  at  the  police  office,  or 
with  the  procurator  of  any  court  having  Jurisdiction  over  the 
crime  in  question.  Policemen  can  arrest  an  offender  whose 
crime  was  committed  in  their  presence,  or  which  the  complain- 
ant avers  to  have  seen  actually  committed.  In  all  other  cases 
they  can  arrest  by  warrant  only.  Bail  is  allowed  at  the  dis- 
cretion of  the  judge.  Accused  persons  are  often  kept  in  prison 
for  a  considerable  time  before  trial,  and  no  lawyer  iB  allowed  to 
be  present  at  the  preliminary  examination.  The  conducting  of 
criminal  cases,  from  the  very  beginning  down  to  the  execution 
of  the  criminal,  if  he  be  condemned  to  suffer  death,  rests  with 
the  procurator,  who  unites  in  his  own  person  the  functions  of 
public  prosecutor  and  grand  jury.' 

The  reforms  of  1882  extended  to  the  judiciary, 
which  was  now  separated  from  the  executive. 
Judges,  procurators,  barristers,  notaries,  and  a 
new  system  of  police,  as  well  as  law-schools,  were 
established.  Under  the  new  regime  there  are  far 
fewer  capital  punishments.  In  Tokugawa  times 
the  number  of  persons  consigned  to  jail  in  Yedo 
was  about  7000  annually,  and  of  these  over  3000 
were  executed.  At  present  the  yearly  number  of 
capital  punishments  for  the  whole  Empire  averages 
above  eighty. 

It  is  claimed  that,  on  the  whole,  the  new  legis- 
lation has  resulted  in  a  body  of  law  in  unison  with 
the  most  advanced  principles  and  the  most  approved 
procedure  of  Western  jurisprudence — all  punish- 
ments not  recognized  as  consonant  with  modern 
civilization  being  abolished,  due  provision  being 
made  for  adapting  penalties  to  degrees  of  crime 
(the  previous  legislation  left  the  judge  too  little 
discretion),  the  rights  of  suspects  and  criminals 
being  guarded,  and  the  privilege  of  appeal  guaran- 
teed. This  contention  is  substantially  correct, 
though  traces  of  old  usage  remain.  All  men  are 
not  equal  before  the  law,  the  military  retaining 
some  special  privileges.  Bobbery  with  violence  is 
still  punishable  with  death,  and  a  man  does  not 
render  himself  liable  to  any  penalty  for  beating 
his  servant,  unless  death  ensues.  The  preliminary 
examination  of  prisoners  is  secret,  the  assistance 
of  counsel  not  being  allowed.  This  last  feature 
will  soon  be  modified.     Trial  by  jury  is  unknown. 

In  1899,  after  protracted  negotiations,  treaties 
were  concluded  with  foreign  Powers,  by  which  the 
extra-territorial  jurisdiction  was  abolished,  and  all 
foreigners  became  subject  to  Japanese  law. 

Prisons. — Under  the  old  regime,  imprisonment 
was  not  one  of  the  recognized  forms  of  punishment, 
though  it  was  necessary  to  provide  some  places  of 
detention  for  prisoners  who  were  awaiting  their 
trial,  sometimes  for  long  periods.  The  inmates 
suffered  very  great  hardship.  The  cells  were 
wooden  cages  open  to  the  four  winds,  and  the 
arrangements  for  sanitation,  food,  and  clothing 
were  of  the  most  wretched  kind.  The  internal 
discipline  was  entrusted  to  the  elder  prisoners — 
generally  hardened  criminals — with  results  which 
may  be  imagined.  Soon  after  the  restoration  of 
the  Mikado's  authority  in  1868,  a  commission  was 
sent  to  visit  a  number  of  foreign  prisons  and  make 
a  report,  and  ultimately  a  complete  change  was 
effected.  Sir  Henry  Norman,  who  recently  visited 
the  convict  prison  of  Tokio,  says  (Real  Japan,  1892) : 

'  The  dormitories  are  enormous  cages  formed  of  bars  as  thick 
as  one's  arm.  There  is  not  a  particle  of  furniture.  Thick 
quilts,  or  futon  (the  Japanese  bed),  are  provided.  Each  dormi- 
tory holds  96  prisoners.  The  sanitary  arrangements  could  not 
well  be  improved.  No  vermin  could  harbour  anywhere.  It 
was  almost  an  ideal  prison  structure.  The  punishment  cells 
were  hardly  ever  occupied.  There  was  no  flogging.  Two  hun- 
dred prisoners  were  employed  making  machinery  and  steam 
boilers,  working  nine  hours  a  day.  Wood-carving,  weaving, 
pottery-making,  and  paper-  and  cloisonne-making  are  also 
among  their  occupations.  Only  a  few  are  so  clumsy  or  stupid 
as  to  be  employed  in  pounding  rice  or  breaking  stones.' 

Literature. — The  present  writer's  acknowledgments  are  due 
to  F.  Brinkley,  Japan  and  China,  London,  1904,  vol.  iv. ; 
P.  F.  von  Siebold,  Nippon 2,  Leipzig,  1897,  vol.  i. ;  and 
Longford,  '  Summary  of  the  Japanese  Penal  Codes,'  in  TASJ, 
vol.  v.  (1877)  pt.  ii.  Consult  also  B.  H.  Chamberlain, 
Things  Japanese 2,  London,  1891 ;  G.   Bousquet,  Le  Japtm. 


288 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Jewish) 


Paris,  1877,  vol.  ii. ;  W.  G.  Aston,  Shinto,  London,  1905; 
A.  von  Siebold,  Der  Eintritt  Japans  in  das  europ.  Vblker- 
recht,  Berlin,  1900;  History  of  the  Empire  of  Japan,  1893, 
published  by  the  order  of  the  Department  of  Education,  Tokio  ; 
G.  Boissonade,  Projet  de  code  de  procedure  criminelle  pour 
Cempire  du  Japon,  Paris,  1883,  also  Projet  revise"  du  code  pinal 
pour  I'empire  du  Japon,  Paris,  18S6 ;  A.  B.  Mitford,  Tales  of 
Old  Japan\  London,  1S74  (for  harakiri);  Friedrichs,  'Zum 
japan.  Beoht,'  in  ZVRW  x.  (1892)  351-376;  Kohler,  'Studien 
aus  dem  japan.  Recht,'  ib.  x.  376-449. 

W.  G.  Aston. 

CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Jewish). 
— The  transition  from  the  Biblical  to  the  Mishnic 
period  is  marked  by  external  and  internal  limita- 
tions in  the  functions  of  the  Jewish  tribunals. 
Externally,  the  Jewish  courts  of  justice  lost  the 
power  of  inflicting  capital  and  other  punishments, 
— a  power  exercised  by  the  Roman  procurators  and 
officials, — and  in  the  course  of  time  the  limits  to 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  BUh  Din  were  still  further 
narrowed.  Internally,  we  note  a  growing  tendency 
towards  the  restriction  of  certain  forms  of  punish- 
ment, by  making  it  a  matter  of  difficulty  to  secure 
a  conviction.  In  practice,  capital  punishment  was 
obsolete  long  before  the  fall  of  the  Jewish  State, 
and,  in  all  probability,  long  before  the  courts  were 
deprived  of  the  legal  power  of  inflicting  it.  This 
is  clearly  shown  by  such  NT  passages  as  Jn  IS31, 
and  the  Talmud.  Thus,  in  Jerus.  Sank.  18a  (p. 
228  of  M.  Schwab's  tr.,  Paris,  1888)  it  is  stated 
that  this  right  was  suspended  some  forty  years 
before  the  fall  of  the  Temple,  and  that  the  right 
of  giving  decisions  in  questions  involving  financial 
matters  had  been  already  abolished  in  the  time  of 
E.  Simon  b.  Shetah,  that  is  to  say,  during  the 
reign  of  Alexander  Jannseus  (d.  76  B.C.).  Bab. 
Sanh.  41a  brings  out  this  fact  even  more  emphatic- 
ally. Nor  may  the  trial  and  crucifixion  of  Jesus 
be  cited  as  an  instance  to  the  contrary.  It  is 
now  the  generally  accepted  opinion,  among  both 
Jewish  and  Christian  scholars,  that  the  trial  of 
Jesus  was  not  carried  out  in  accordance  with  Jewish 
law,  and  that  His  execution  was  an  act  in  which 
Pharisaic  Judaism  had  neither  initiative  nor  share. 

Thus  Robertson  Smith  (EBr^  xxii.  812,  at  end  of  art. 
'  Synhedrium ')  writes  :  *  The  meeting  in  the  palace  of  the  high 
priest  which  condemned  our  Lord  was  exceptional.  The 
proceedings  also  on  this  occasion  were  highly  irregular,  if 
measured  by  the  rules  of  procedure  which,  according  to  Jewish 
tradition,  were  laid  down  to  secure  order  and  a  fair  trial  for 
the  accused.'  So  also  Montefiore  (Synoptic  Gospels,  i.  [London, 
1909]  345 f.):  'The  trial  of  Jesus— if  trial  it  can  be  called—.  .  . 
violates  that  [Rabbinic]  law  in  almost  every  particular.  ...  It 
does  not  follow  because  the  trial  of  Jesus  .  .  .  violates  Jewish 
law  in  many  important  points,  that  therefore  the  account  given 
of  it  cannot  be  true.  There  have  been  illegal  trials  at  all  times, 
and  even  the  flimsiest  legal  forms  have  sufficed  to  get  rid  of  an 
enemy.  .  .  .  That  there  was  any  meeting  of  the  full  Sanhedrin 
is  most  doubtful ;  doubtful  also  is  the  part  played  by  the 
"Scribes"  and  Pharisees;  but  that  the  Sadducean  priesthood 
was  at  the  bottom  of  the  arrest  and  of  the  "  trial "...  cannot 
reasonably  be  doubted.' 

In  the  passage  from  the  Jerus.  Talmud  mentioned 
above,  R.  Simon  b.  Yohai,  a  tanna  of  the  2nd  cent., 
expresses  his  gratitude  for  escaping  the  responsi- 
bility of  condemning  a  human  being  to  death. 
Other  passages,  of  a  similar  character,  in  the 
Talmud  and  Rabbinic  writings  point  to  the  same 
conclusion — that  the  Romans  took  away  from  the 
Beth  Din  the  right  to  inflict  capital  punishment. 

In  addition  to  these  restrictions  imposed  from 
without,  the  sentences  of  Jewish  tribunals  were 
mitigated  by  various  internal  and  voluntary 
limitations.  It  may  perhaps  be  that,  in  proportion 
to  the  severity  with  which  Rome  exercised  the 
power  removed  from  the  local  courts,  these  felt 
themselves  drawn  to  the  side  of  leniency  in  other 
directions.  But  this  tendency  to  leniency  was 
originally  spontaneous,  however  much  it  may  have 
developed  afterwards  in  consequence  of  external 
harshness ;  it  began  while  the  Sanhedrin  still  held 
the  power  of  life  and  death.  An  exact  date  cannot  be 
given ;  it  is  difficul  t  to  tell  whether  and  when  punish- 
ments enacted  in  the  Pentateuchal  legislation  were 


carried  out  in  all  literalness,  and  to  what  extent 
and  with  what  frequency.  Does  that  legislation 
represent  primitive  practice,  or  did  the  mitigating 
force  of  the  Mishnic  recensions  of  these  laws  at  all 
times  modify  their  execution?  The  orthodox 
Jewish  belief,  which  regards  the  Oral  Law  as  a 
contemporary  concomitant  of  the  Written  Law  and 
of  equal  force,  would  take  the  latter  view,  namely, 
that  the  traditions  embodied  in  the  Mishna 
accompanied  the  practice  of  all  Mosaic  enactments. 
It  is,  however,  held  by  many  that  the  Tannaitic 
law  was  new  and  original ;  that  in  early  Mishnic 
times  it  was  felt  that  the  Pentateuch  demanded 
the  death  sentence  too  readily,  and  that  the  Rabbis 
took  steps  to  prevent  such  sentences  from  beiDg 
carried  out.  This  subject  need  not  be  discussed 
here  ;  it  is  sufficient  to  show  that  the  death  penalty 
was  almost  abandoned,  without  entering  into  the 
question  of  whether  this  was  brought  about  by  new 
prescriptions  or  not. 

The  infliction  of  death  was  surrounded  by  many 
preliminaries  and  obstacles.  The  law  demanded 
not  only  the  presence  of  two  satisfactory  eye- 
witnesses, whose  testimony  must  support  vigorous 
scrutiny  (see  Mishn.  Sanh.  iv.  v.,  ed.  Strack,  from 
which  all  quotations  are  taken),  but  also,  before 
committing  the  crime,  the  accused  must  have 
received  formal  warning  from  the  bystanders  as  to 
the  consequences  of  his  act  ('iN^rin,  ib.  v.  1 ;  Bab. 
Sanh.  8b,  806 ;  Tos.  Sanh.  xi.  1,  ed.  Zuckermandel, 
Pasewalk,  1880,  p.  431).  No  circumstantial  evi- 
dence whatever  was  admissible,  nor  could  the 
accused  be  convicted  on  his  own  confession.  The 
stringency  in  examining  and  in  challenging 
witnesses,  the  necessity  of  proving  hathrd'ah,  the 
elaborate  aids  given  to  the  accused — all  tend  to 
show  that  the  infliction  of  capital  punishment  must 
have  been  practically  impossible  ;  and  this  seems  to 
have  been  the  precise  aim  which  the  Rabbis  had 
in  view.  Makkoth  la  records  the  dictum  that  a 
Sanhedrin  which  condemned  a  prisoner  to  death 
once  in  seven  years  earned  the  reputation  of 
'  destructive '  (nran) :  according  to  R.  Eliezer  b. 
'Azarya,  once  in  seventy  years  sufficed  ;  while  R. 
Tryphon  and  R.  'Aqiba  state  that,  had  they  been 
present,  they  would  always  have  succeeded  in 
advancing  some  plea  to  invalidate  the  proceedings 
in  favour  of  the  prisoner.  Nor  was  this  tendency 
limited  to  cases  of  capital  punishment  alone ;  it 
was  extended  to  other  branches  of  criminal  law, 
e.g.  to  the  lex  talionis.  The  eighth  chapter  of 
Baba  Qamma  shows  quite  clearly  that  even  in 
early  days  this  command  could  not  have  been 
intended  to  receive  literal  interpretation,  for  a  man 
who  had  lost  his  eye  could  receive  no  compensation 
through  a  similar  injury  being  done  to  his  assailant. 
Compensation  could  consist  only  in  the  worth  of 
the  eye  being  restored  to  the  loser,  and  this  was 
estimated  by  assessing  the  value  of  the  injured 
party,  if  sold  as  a  slave,  before  and  after  the 
accident,  the  difference  representing  the  amount  of 
the  damages  (incidentally,  cf.  Rashi  on  Ex  21-4). 

Even  when  acapital  sentence  had  been  pronounced 
and  was  about  to  be  carried  into  execution,  every 
chance  of  proving  his  innocence  at  the  eleventh 
hour  was  accorded  to  the  accused.  The  court 
remained  sitting  all  day  in  order  to  receive  appeals, 
and  an  elaborate  system  of  signals  was  devised  to 
stay  the  execution  in  the  event  of  any  unexpected 
piece  of  evidence  becoming  known  (Mishn.  Sanh. 
vi.).  Punishment  was  to  be  so  arranged  as  to 
prevent  the  repetition  of  the  offence  by  other 
parties,  in  other  words,  to  act  as  a  deterrent,  and 
to  secure  the  extinction  of  the  crime  itself  and 
of  its  consequences :  '  Thou  shalt  put  away  the 
wrong  from  thy  midst ' ;  '  and  all  Israel  shall  hear 
and  shall  sin  no  more.'  Care  had  to  be  taken  that 
no  additional  suffering  or  humiliation  was  incurred 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Jewish) 


269 


by  the  guilty  party.  Any  dishonour  to  the  body 
resulting  from  the  punishment  was  to  be  avoided, 
in  so  far  as  it  was  not  expressly  provided  by 
the  sentence.  In  executions  and  in  flagellations, 
particular  caution  had  to  be  exercised  in  this 
respect. 

Capital  punishment  as  ordered  by  the  BSth  Din 
could  be  effected  by  lapidation  (n^'pp),  burning 
(."iSlte1),  decapitation  (rjn),  or  strangling  (pin)  (see 
Mishn.  Sank.  vii.  1  :  ]'i  n'3^>  nppj  nin'p  ffang ;  and 
Singer's  Prayer  Book,  London,  1900,  p.  262).  Cruci- 
fixion, as  a  means  of  death,  was  a  Roman  form.  The 
last  two  methods  are  not  mentioned  in  the  Penta- 
teuch, where,  in  fact,  stoning  is  most  usual.  There 
seems  no  reason  to  doubt  that  s'qila  and  s'repha 
in  the  Pentateuch  mean  what  is  commonly  known 
as  stoning  and  burning  ;  but  the  provisions  of  the 
Mishna  show  a  great  alteration  in  the  manner  of 
the  execution.  In  the  case  of  burning  (Mishn. 
Sank.  vii.  2),  the  criminal  was  firmly  fixed  in  pitch, 
up  to  his  knees.  A  strong  cloth,  covered  with  a 
soft  wrapping,  was  twisted  round  his  neck,  and  its 
two  ends  were  pulled  by  officials.  The  soft  cloth 
was  added  to  avoid  unnecessary  pain  and  in  order  to 
prevent  death  by  strangulation.  The  criminal  was 
thus  forced  to  open  his  mouth,  into  which  there 
was  poured  a  stream  of  molten  lead  which  instantly 
consumed  his  vitals,  death  being  speedy  and 
merciful.  The  Parthians  treated  the  body  of  the 
Roman  general  Crassus  in  a  similar  manner  after 
Carrhse  (53  B.C.).  R.  Eliezer  b.  Sadoq,  a  tanna  of 
the  1st  cent.,  relates  that  once  he  saw  the  daughter 
of  a  priest  who  had  committed  unchastity  (Lv  21") 
bound  in  vine  tendrils  and  burnt  (Sank.  vii.  2 ; 
Tos.  ix.  11,  etc.  Contrast  the  burning  of  R. 
'Aqiba,  in  A.D.  135,  after  the  Bar  Cochba  revolt, 
when  '  sponges  of  wet  wool '  ["i?s  ho  p:isp]  were 
placed  round  his  heart  to  prolong  the  agony).  In 
Bab.  Sank.  526,  R.  IJama  b.  Tobia  ordered  Imarta, 
a  priest's  daughter  who  had  lived  unchastely, 
to  be  wrapped  in  vine  tendrils  and  burnt.  Both 
these  cases  are  distinctly  reprobated.  In  the 
former,  the  Sanhedrin  which  could  have  permitted 
such  a  method  is  said  not  to  have  been  competent 
(bdqi).  In  the  latter  instance  it  is  suggested  that 
the  Beth  Din  may  have  been  Sadducean,  or  that 
the  narrator  was  too  young  to  remember  details. 
Any  departure  from  the  procedure  described  above 
is  stated  to  be  illegal. 

In  the  case  of  stoning  also,  modifications  were 
adopted  with  a  view  to  hastening  death.  Mishn. 
Sank.  vi.  4  states  : 

1  The  height  of  the  place  of  stoning  was  twice  a  man's  length. 
One  of  the  witnesses  pushed  (isn'n)  the  criminal  on  the  loins  so 
that  he  fell  down  (forward)  on  to  his  breast,  and  the  witness 
immediately  turned  the  body  over  on  to  its  back.  If  the 
criminal  was  already  dead,  then  the  duty  was  accomplished, 
but,  if  he  still  lived,  then  the  second  witness  took  a  stone  and 
cast  it  on  to  his  heart.' 

If  necessary,  all  the  bystanders  followed  suit 
until  death  intervened.  According  to  the  Penta- 
teuch, the  witnesses  had  to  cast  the  first  stone, 
since  it  was  through  their  testimony  that  the 
execution  took  place  (Dt  IT7).  With  the  hurling 
down  of  the  criminal  may  be  compared  the  pro- 
cedure with  the  scape-goat  in  Mishn.  Yoma,  vi.  5. 
The  official  pushed  (n^)  the  goat  backwards,  so 
that  it  rolled  down  and  immediately  became  dis- 
membered. In  some  cases  the  body  was  hanged, 
or  rather  crucified,  after  execution,  for  a  limited 
period  (Mishn.  Sank.  vi.  4). 

Decapitation  (Mishn.  Sank.  vii.  3 ;  Bab.  Sanh. 
52b)  was  practised  with  a  sword,  in  the  same  way 
as  with  the  Romans  ;  but  R.  Judah  b.  Elai,  a  tanna 
of  the  2nd  cent.,  objected  on  the  ground  that  it 
involved  degradation.  To  strike  off  the  head  of  a 
man  who  was  standing  caused  the  body  to  fall 
down,  and  for  this  additional  humiliation  there 
was  no  authorization,  consequently  R.  Judah 
vol.  iv. — 19 


describes  a  different  method,  viz.  beheading  with 
an  axe  (o^p,  kowIs)  on  a  block.  The  other  Rabbis 
considered  this  method  even  more  humiliating,  and 
rejected  it.  It  seems  that  the  criminal  was  tied 
to  a  post,  in  order  that  the  body  should  remain 
upright.  Finally,  strangulation  (ib.)  was  carried 
out  as  in  the  preliminary  process  of  burning,  only 
that  the  two  ends  of  the  cloth  were  pulled  so  hard 
that  they  caused  death. 

The  object  of  these  modifications  was,  in  the 
first  place,  to  mitigate  the  horrors  of  death.  On 
this  account  a  cup  of  drugged  wine  and  incense 
(]::  ho  D1D3  nph  ho'  B-jip)  was  given  to  the  criminal 
in  order  to  produce  insensibility  (e.g.  Bab.  Sanh. 
43a,  Mk  1523,  and  other  references).  The  second 
motive  was  to  avoid  desecrating  the  body  beyond 
the  necessities  of  the  death  penalty.  The  pursuit 
of  both  these  aims  caused  a  great  internal  restric- 
tion of  the  functions  of  the  Jewish  tribunal. 

The  various  crimes  for  which  the  penalty  was 
death  are  enumerated  in  Mishn.  Sanh.  vii.-xi. 
Lapidation  is  the  punishment  for  eighteen  offences 
— including  incest,  sodomy,  bestiality,  blasphemy, 
idolatry,  the  giving  of  one's  children  to  Molecn, 
necromancy,  sorcery,  Sabbath-breaking,  the 
cursing  of  parents,  criminal  intercourse  with  a 
betrothed  virgin,  the  inviting  of  others  to  idolatry, 
the  perverting  of  a  whole  city,  the  practice  of 
magic,  and  for  the  stubborn  and  rebellious  son. 
Burning  was  reserved  for  a  priest's  daughter  who 
violated  her  chastity,  and  for  nine  forms  of  incest 
— only,  however,  when  committed  during  the  life 
of  the  legal  wife.  Murderers  and  the  inhabitants 
of  an  apostate  city  (Dt  1313)  were  beheaded,  and 
the  following  were  strangled :  one  who  beat  a 
parent  (cf.  Vergil,  Aen.  vi.  609),  one  who  kid- 
napped a  Jew  for  slavery,  a  sage  who  opposed 
his  superior  authorities,  a  false  prophet,  one  who 
prophesied  in  the  name  of  false  gods,  the  adul- 
terer, and  one  who  bore  false  witness  against  a 
priest's  daughter. 

The  number  of  crimes  for  which  stripes  could  be 
inflicted  was  very  large  (Mak/coth,  iii.  etc.).  This 
penalty  could,  with  certain  restrictions,  be  imposed 
by  the  judges  at  their  discretion,  unless  the 
Scripture  demanded  a  specified  punishment  for 
some  particular  sin.  In  no  case  could  the  stripes 
exceed  thirty-nine,  and,  whenever  possible,  fewer 
were  given.  The  presence  of  the  judges  was 
obligatory.  (For  full  details,  see  Mishn.  Sanh.  xiv. 
=  Ma]ckoth,  iii.  ;  also  Abrahams,  Jewish  Life.) 
The  Mishna  (Makkoth)  enumerates  fifty  trans- 
gressions punishable  by  flagellation.  Maimonides, 
in  the  Yadh  ha-Hazaqa.,  gives  a  far  longer  and 
more  comprehensive  catalogue.  A  culprit  who 
received  Btripes  was  ipso  facto  freed  from  excision 
(n-13),  and  recovered  all  those  rights  from  which 
his  crime  might  have  debarred  him  (Mishn. 
Sanh.  xiv.  15). 

The  principle  of  making  the  punishment  as 
lenient  as  possible,  suaviter  in  re,  operated  also 
in  respect  of  those  sins  the  punishment  of  which 
was  reserved  for  the  future  life.  The  famous  tenth 
chapter  of  Sanhedrin  gives  a  list  of  those  who  have 
no  share  in  the  world  to  come,  but  every  endeavour 
is  made  to  make  the  list  short.  The  principle  is 
that  all  Israel  are  entitled  to  a  share  (urh  o:  hg~(o\  ^3 
N3n  pyijA  pj>n)  unless  they  forfeit  it. 

'  He  who  says  that  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  is  not 
contained  in  the  Pentateuch  (according  to  other  readings,  'he 
who  denies  the  doctrine  of  resurrection ') ;  he  who  denies  the 
inspiration  of  Scripture  ;  the  Epicurean  ;  according  to  R.  'Aqiba, 
he  who  reads  external  (i.e.  uncanonical)  books ;  he  who  utters 
enchantment  over  a  wound  .  .  .  ;  Abba  Saul  says,  whoso 
pronounces  the  Tetragrammaton.'  In  all  these  cases  reference 
should  be  made  to  the  commentary  of  Maimonides  (ed.  Holzer). 

Seven  persons — three  kings  (Jeroboam,  Ahab,  and  Manasseh) 
and  four  private  individuals  (Balaam,  Doeg,  Ahithophel,  and 
Gehazi) — are  deprived  of  their  future  life,  but  in  each  case  the 
Rabbis  sought  for  extenuating  circumstances  in  order  to  fiud  a 


290 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Muhammadan) 


loophole  from  perpetual  doom.  Similarly,  excuses  are  made  for 
the  generation  of  the  Flood,  and  for  the  generation  of  the 
Wilderness. 

Excommunication  could,  according  to  Bab. 
Berakh.  19a,  be  imposed  for  a  variety  of  offences, 
all  of  a  less  heinous  nature  than  those  punishable 
by  stripes.  It  consisted  of  three  grades  of  separa- 
tion :  (1)  n'zifa,  (2)  niddui,  and  (3)  herem.  The 
period  of  n'zifa  was  one  day,  of  niddui  seven  days, 
while  herem  could  be  indefinite.  One  who  died 
impenitent  under  niddui  was  not  buried  with  the 
usual  ceremonies,  and  the  force  of  herem  was  very 
severe.  In  the  Middle  Ages  the  power  of  herem 
was  great  owing  to  the  institution  of  the  Ghetto, 
but  it  was  always  felt  to  be  a  terrible  weapon,  e.g. 
in  the  cases  of  Uriel  Acosta  and  Spinoza.  The 
very  gravity  of  herem  caused  great  reluctance  to 
inflict  it,  and  it  was  very  sparingly  employed  (see 
Abrahams,  Jewish  Life,  pp.  52,  292).  Cf.  art. 
Blasphemy  (Jewish). 

The  penalty  of  excision  (mj)  prescribed  by  the 
Pentateuch  was  not  carried  out  by  human  agency, 
except  in  so  far  as  guilty  parties  were  scourged ; 
hence  this  mode  of  punishment  scarcely  calls  for 
consideration  in  this  article.  But,  just  as  in  the 
case  of  exclusion  from  a  share  in  the  future  life, — 
a  fate  which  also  could  not  be  determined  by 
human  agency, — so,  too,  in  the  case  of  excision,  the 
Rabbis  attempted  to  find  pleas  for  the  wicked.  In 
Mishn.  Sanh.  xiv.  15  it  is  stated  that  all  those 
condemned  to  excision  find  immediate  pardon  after 
receiving  their  scourging,  if  they  are  penitent. 
This  conclusion  is  illustrated  by  a  play  on  the 
words  of  the  text  (Dt  25s),  '  Lest  thy  brother  be 
brought  to  dishonour  in  thy  sight'  (n^Ji).  R. 
Hananya  b.  Gamaliel  says : '  as  soon  as  he  is  scourged 
(np^p)  he  becomes  thy  brother  in  thy  sight.'  Fines 
were  imposed  by  the  Bible  for  breaches  of  moral 
conduct  in  sexual  matters  (Dt  22,  Ex  22),  and  for 
allowing  a  dangerous  ox  so  much  freedom  that  it 
killed  a  slave.  In  other  cases  the  Mishna  knows 
nothing  of  this  means  of  punishment.  In  the 
Middle  Ages  fines  were  sometimes  paid  to  the 
general  funds  of  the  community  by  persons  liable 
to  be  scourged  for  a  breach  of  Pentateuchal  legisla- 
tion. 

Imprisonment,  though  known  in  the  Bible  [e.g. 
Joseph  and  Jeremiah),  was  not  frequently  practised 
in  Mishnie  times.  As  a  means  of  punishment,  it 
was  employed  in  what  may  be  described  as  indirect 
crimes,  that  is  to  say,  for  the  contumacious  and 
for  the  suborner.  It  could  be  imposed  if  conclusive 
evidence  was  not  forthcoming  though  there  was  a 
strong  presumption  of  guilt,  or  if  a  person  punished 
twice  by  flagellation  had  committed  the  offence  a 
third  time.  These  cases  are  dealt  with  in  Mishn. 
Sanh.  ix.  5,  and  Bab.  Sanh.  816. 

'  He  who  has  been  scourged,  and  has  repeated  the  offence,  is 
sent  by  the  B&th  Din  to  a  dungeon,  and  fed  with  barley  bread 
until  his  belly  bursts.  One  who  slays  another  without  witnesses 
is  sent  to  a  dungeon  and  fed  on  scanty  prison  fare  (D'D*  "l£  onb 

The  Gemara  explains  that  the  scourging  refers 
to  the  stripes  which  always  accompanied  the 
penalty  of  excision ;  the  difference  in  the  two 
expressions  for  food  is  also  explained.  According 
to  R.  Shesheth,  the  method  is  the  same,  only  in 
each  instance  different  stages  are  quoted :  the 
prisoner  was  in  each  case  first  given  very  scanty 
fare  until  his  belly  contracted,  then  barley  was 
given  to  him  so  that  it  caused  him  to  burst.  The 
impractical  nature  of  the  treatment  is  clear  proof 
that  no  Rabbi  had  ever  heard  of  a  case  of  its 
application.  Such  a  rare  situation  as  the  Mishna 
presupposes  makes  it  plain  that  the  penalty  of 
imprisonment  could  scarcely  ever  have  been  in- 
flicted. 

It  must  be  remembered  that,  in  the  time  of 
which  the  Mishna  speaks,  most  of  the  decisions 


were  theoretical  (see  Strack's  introduction  to  his 
edition  of  Mishn.  Sanhedrin-Maklcoth,  p.  5*) ; 
consequently  we  have  there  recorded  the  practice 
of  an  earlier  period.  In  the  Middle  Ages  there 
was  a  great  revival  of  Jewish  jurisdiction  (see 
Abrahams,  Jewish  Life,  p.  49,  etc.).  In  Spain  (ib.), 
up  to  1379,  Jewish  courts  could  impose  punish- 
ments and  even  pronounce  a  death  sentence,  which 
was  carried  out  by  the  civil  courts.  Imprisonment 
was  a  form  of  punishment  adopted  by  Jews,  though 
it  seems  probable  that  they  made  use  of  the 
ordinary  prison — or  some  separate  portion  of  it — 
for  their  own  offenders.  The  institution  of  the 
Jewish  Quarter  gave  the  BUh  Din  greater  powers 
and  fostered  the  growth  of  two  principles  :  (1)  that 
it  was  unpatriotic  for  a  Jew  to  cite  another  Jew 
before  the  civil  courts  ;  and  (2)  that  no  mercy  was 
to  be  shown  to  the  informer.  The  activity  of  the 
Jewish  tribunal  in  secular  matters  can  scarcely  be 
said  to  have  survived  the  breakdown  of  the  Ghetto, 
though  in  religious  questions  its  authority  re- 
mained unshaken.  In  many  instances,  plaintiff 
and  defendant  have,  of  their  own  accord,  agreed 
voluntarily  to  submit  their  differences  to  the 
arbitration  of  the  BUh  Din  rather  than  to  the 
civil  judge — a  system  at  present  in  great  vogue  in 
the  East  End  of  London.  By  this  means  many 
disputes  are  settled  without  taking  up  the  time  of 
the  magistrate.  But  this  does  not  belong  to  the 
domain  of  criminal  cases.  Here  the  jurisdiction 
of  Jewish  courts  has  long  ceased. 

Literature. — The  Mishna,  Gemara  (Pal.  and  Bab.),  and 
Tosephta  of  Sanhedrin-Makkoth  should  be  carefully  studied. 
For  the  Mishna  there  are  critical  editions :  (1)  with  vocab., 
notes,  and  trans.,  by  H.  L.  Strack,  Leipzig,  1910 ;  (2)  by  Samuel 
Krauss,  Leyden,  1909,  with  introduction,  notes,  and  glossary  ;  (3) 
for  those  who  are  ignorant  of  Hebrew,  a  tr. ,  with  notes,  etc., 
has  been  prepared  by  Holscher  (Fiebig's  Series),  Tubingen,  1910, 
with  special  reference  to  NT  questions ;  Maimonides'  comm.  is 
edited  by  J.  Holzer,  Berlin,  1901.  The  Jerus.  Talm.  is  translated 
by  M.  Schwab,  Paris,  1888.  The  best  edition  of  the  Tosephta  is 
that  of  Zuckermandel,  Pasewalk,  18S0.  See  articles  in  EBr$ 
on  '  Synhedrium,'  in  JE  on  'Capital  Punishment,'  'Stripes,' 
'Excommunication,*  'Crime,'  'Punishment,'  '  Hatra'ah,'  'Ad- 
mission in  Evidence,'  etc. ;  in  the  present  work,  see  Adultery 
(Jewish),  Blasphemy  (Jewish) ;  cf.  1.  Abrahams,  Jewish  Life 
in  Middle  Ages,  London,  1896;  A.  Biichler,  'Das  Synhedriol 
in  Jerusalem  und  die  Todesstrafen  der  Bibel  und  der  jiid. 
nachbiblischen  Zeit,'  in  MGWJ,  1906;  see  also  bibliographies 
in  JE  iii.  558,  iv.  359.  HERBEET  LOEWE. 

CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Muliam- 
madan). — I.  Introduction. — In  Ancient  Arabia, 
crime  was  often  regarded  as  impurity,  and  punish- 
ment as  purification.  In  Muslim  tradition  also  it 
is  mentioned  that  a  certain  adulterer  who  desired 
to  do  penance  for  his  sin  said  to  the  Prophet, 
tahhirni  ('purify  me'),  whereupon  he  was  stoned 
to  death.1 

In  the  heathen  period,  manslaughter  and  other 
crimes  often  gave  rise  to  bloody  feuds  among  the 
Arab  tribes.  The  revenge  of  the  injured  party  or 
of  the  members  of  his  family  or  tribe  extended  not 
only  to  the  guilty  person  who  had  killed  or  injured 
any  one,  but  also  to  all  who  belonged  to  the  same 
family  or  tribe.  It  is  true  that  by  this  solidarity 
of  family  and  tribe  the  public  safety  was  in  some 
respects  benefited ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  there 
was  the  disadvantage  that  many  innocent  persons 
had  to  sutler  for  the  sins  of  their  relatives,  and 
that  long-continued  blood-feuds  often  arose  from 
insignificant  beginnings.  Usually  on  both  sides  an 
attempt  was  made  to  put  to  death  as  great  a 
number  as  possible  of  enemies  of  high  rank  in  re- 
turn for  each  fallen  tribesman  ;  for  many  regarded 
as  insufficient  mere  retaliation  [qisds),  by  which  no 
greater  injury  was  done  to  the  other  party  than 
had  actually  been  suffered.  Blood-guiltiness  was 
sometimes  bought  off  by  means  of  a  great  number 
of  camels,  but  the  acceptance  of  such  a  price  of 

1  Sm  I.  Qoldziher,  '  Pas  Strafrecht  im  Islam '  (loc.  tit.  infra 
pp.  ]'».,  104  n.  2),  and  Muhamm.  Studim,  18S9-90,  i.  27  n. 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Muhammadan) 


29) 


blood  (aql  or  diya)  was  often  regarded  as  a  humilia- 
tion.    See,  further,  Blood-Feud  (Muslim). 

The  blood-feud  was  so  deeply  rooted  in  the 
customs  of  the  Ancient  Arabians  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  the  Prophet  completely  to  forbid  it. 
In  Islam,  therefore,  retaliation  remained  permis- 
sible, though  with  important  restrictions.  Not  long 
after  the  Hijra,  circumstances  at  Medina  compelled 
the  Prophet  to  issue  regulations  as  to  this  matter, 
in  order  to  prevent  the  old  blood-feud  from  con- 
tinuing even  among  the  Muslims ;  he  therefore 
strictly  forbade  a  Muslim  to  revenge  himself  on  a 
fellow-believer  for  blood-guiltiness  dating  from  the 
heathen  period.  If,  however,  a  Muslim  were 
attacked  unjustly  by  a  fellow-believer,  he  retained 
the  right  of  retaliation  ;  and,  if  he  were  killed, 
his  heirs  had  also  this  right,  but  the  question  must 
henceforth  be  properly  investigated,  and  only  the 
guilty  person  himself  might  be  punished  after  his 
guilt  had  been  proved.  It  was,  moreover,  estab- 
lished that  for  Muslims  only  the  qisas,  i.e.  the 
talio  in  the  most  restricted  sense  of  the  word,  was 
permissible  ;  the  attacked  party  must  not  do  any 
greater  injury  to  the  attacking  than  he  had  him- 
self suffered.  Redemption  of  the  blood-feud  was 
permitted  for  Muslims,  but  the  acceptance  of  the 
price  of  blood  instead  of  retaliation  was  not 
expressly  made  a  religious  duty. 

See  Qur'an,  ii.  173-174  :  '  If  any  one  gains  forgiveness  from  his 
neighbour,  [the  one  part}']  must  conduct  his  case  [concerning 
the  price  of  blood]  with  moderation,  and  [the  other  party]  must 
pay  the  price  of  blood  willingly.  That  is  a  mitigation  from  your 
Lord.' 

If  the  guilty  person  had  acted  deliberately,  he 
must  in  future  pay  the  price  of  blood  himself,  as  a 
personal  punishment ;  only  if  he  had  killed  or 
wounded  some  one  accidentally  did  his  relatives 
remain  obliged  to  support  him  in  the  payment  of 
the  price  of  blood. 

For  other  crimes  not  consisting  of  killing  or 
wounding,  the  Prophet  did  not  in  general  issue 
express  regulations.  Only  in  consequence  of 
special  circumstances  he  prescribed  a  hadd  ('fixed 
penalty')  for  some  misdemeanours.  The  best- 
known  instance  is  described  in  art.  Adultery 
(Muslim).  When  Muhammad's  wife  'A'isha  was 
accused  of  adultery,  it  was  prescribed  in  Qur'an, 
xxiv.  1-5,  that  a  person  who  was  guilty  of  fornica- 
tion (zind)  should  be  henceforth  punished  with 
100  stripes  of  the  whip,  but  that  they  who  accused 
an  honourable  woman  of  that  crime  unjustly  must 
be  punished  with  80  stripes  (see,  further,  art. 
Adultery  [Muslim]).  Other  instances  of  fixed 
penalties  are  the  hadd  for  theft,  which  is  prescribed 
in  Qur'an,  v.  42-^-43,  and  the  hadd  for  highway- 
robbery  (ib.  v.  37-38).  In  other  cases,  when  no 
special  punishment  is  prescribed,  the  judge  is 
entitled  to  inflict  such  punishment  on  the  culprit 
as  seems  to  be  the  most  suitable  in  view  of  the 
circumstances.  This  form  of  punishment  is  called 
ta'zlr  ( '  correction '). 

Muslim  canon  law  thus  distinguishes  three 
categories  of  crimes  and  punishments:  (1)  the  so- 
called  jinayat,  i.e.  misdemeanours  consisting  of 
killing  or  wounding,  which  must  be  punished 
either  with  retaliation  (qisas)  or  with  payment  of 
the  diya  ('price  of  blood')  or  other  damages;  (2) 
adultery,  robbery,  and  other  crimes,  which  must 
be  punished  with  a  fixed  penalty  (hadd) ;  and  (3) 
all  other  kinds  of  transgressions,  which  must  be 
punished  with  ta'zlr  ( '  correction '). 

According  to  Muslim  canon  law,  the  punishment 
must  be  regarded  in  some  cases  as  a  haqq  Allah 
('right  of  Allah'),  in  other  cases  as  a  haqq  ddaml 
('human  right').  When,  for  instance,  a  Muslim 
has  the  right  to  exact  retaliation  or  the  payment 
of  the  price  of  blood,  such  a  case  concerns  haqq 
adami,  just  as  when  he  reclaims  stolen  or  loaned 
property,  or  demands  the  payment  of  a  sale  price. 


In  these  eases  the  injured  person  (or  his  heir)  may 
also  give  up  his  right  and  forgive  the  injurer. 

In  cases  in  which  the  judge  has  to  decide  as  to 
a  'right  of  Allah,'  certain  special  principles  apply. 
In  many  traditions  it  is  expressly  put  in  the  fore- 
ground that  God  will  base  His  relation  to  man, 
above  everything  else,  on  compassion  and  forgive- 
ness ;  that  He  is,  therefore,  always  ready  so  far  as 
is  possible  to  cover  the  sins  of  His  servants  with 
the  cloak  of  love,  but  only  on  condition  that  they 
also  act  in  this  way  and  cover  both  their  own  sins 
and  those  of  their  fellow-men. 

On  the  ground  of  these  traditions,  the  judge,  the 
witnesses,  and  the  culprit  must  all  do  their  best  to 
prevent  the  infliction  of  punishment,  if  it  is  a  haqq 
Allah.  The  culprit  is  then  not  bound  to  acknow- 
ledge his  guilt  if  he  is  accused ;  he  may  even 
revoke  his  confession  before  the  judge ;  for  the 
witnesses  it  is  not  regarded  as  meritorious  to  give 
evidence  against  the  culprit;  the  judge  must 
expressly  point  out  to  the  accused  the  means  by 
which  he  may  escape  punishment ;  and  he  may  not 
condemn  him  before  his  guilt  has  been  proved, 
according  to  the  demands  of  the  canon  law,  even 
though  he  personally  knows  with  complete  certainty 
that  the  crime  has  actually  been  committed. 

In  practice,  the  crimes  which  must  be  punished 
with  hadd  can  hardly  ever  be  proved  except  by  the 
voluntary  confession  of  the  culprit,  because  the 
legal  proof  is  too  difficult.  To  prove  fornication, 
for  instance,  it  must  be  possible  to  call  four 
witnesses  who  have  all  observed  the  act  (see 
Adultery  [Muslim]).  If  the  guilty  person  does 
not  desire  to  do  penance  for  his  crime,  and  in  this 
way  to  purify  himself  from  his  sin,  it  is  therefore 
usually  impossible  to  punish  him.  If,  however, 
his  guilt  is  formally  certain,  the  judge  is  obliged 
to  inflict  the  hadd  precisely  according  to  the 
regulations  of  the  canon  law. 

2.  Retaliation  (qisas). — According  to  the  Muslim 
law-books,  retaliation  is  still  permitted  in  only 
two  cases  :  (1)  when  any  one  has  deliberately1  and 
unjustly2  killed  another,  the  heirs  of  the  latter 
have  the  right  to  kill  the  murderer  ;  (2)  if  any  one 
is  deliberately  and  unjustly  wounded  or  mutilated, 
he  has  the  right  to  revenge  himself  on  his  injurer, 
if  it  is  possible  to  make  him  suffer  precisely  the 
same  wounding  or  mutilation.  According  to 
Muslim  lawyers,  this  is  in  general  possible  only 
when  a  hand,  foot,  arm,  leg,  ear,  finger,  nose,  toe, 
tongue,  eye,  or  tooth,  or  other  part  of  the  body, 
has  been  cut  off  or  destroyed.  Moreover,  retalia- 
tion is  in  both  these  cases  permissible  only  (1)  if 
the  guilty  person  was  of  full  age  when  his  crime 
was  committed,  and  in  the  full  possession  of  his 
intellectual  powers ;  (2)  if  the  injured  party  is  at 
the  same  time  an  equal  of  the  guilty  person 
According  to  the  majority  of  Muslim  lawyers,  a 
slave  is  not  the  equal  of  a  free  man  ;  only  the 
Hanafites  hold  that  the  rules  of  retaliation  are 
applicable  also  to  a  free  man  who  has  killed  or 
wounded  the  slave  of  another.  If  an  unbeliever  is 
killed  by  a  Muslim,  it  is  not,  as  a  rule,  permissible 
to  take  vengeance  for  blood  on  the  latter  unless 
the  deceased  unbeliever  had  been  expressly 
promised  protection  of  his  life  by  a  Muslim.  Also 
the  father  may  not  be  put  to  death  when  he  has 
killed  his  son. 

Those  who  have  the  right  to  demand  revenge  for 
blood  are  the  heirs  belonging  to  the  first  and 
second  classes,  the  'asabat  and  the  dhawu'lfaraid 

1  According  to  Muslim  canon  law,  the  question  whether  the 
culprit  acted  deliberately  or  not  depends  on  the  sort  of  weapon 
with  which  his  act  was  accomplished.  The  opinions  of  the 
various  Jiqh-Bcho6\s  differ  as  to  the  details. 

2  The  qi$d§  is  not  applicable  to  one  who  has  killed  or  wounded 
another  if  he  had  a  right  to  do  so.  He,  for  instance,  who  finds 
a  thief  in  his  house,  or  any  one  outraging  his  wife,  may  im- 
mediately kill  him  without  incurring  penalty — not  only  in  self- 
defence,  but  also  in  vengeance  on  the  offender. 


292 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Muhammadan) 


(see  art.  LAW  [Muhammadan]) ;  according  to  the 
Malikites,  however,  wives  cannot  exercise  any 
qisds.  If  the  heirs  give  up  their  right  to  qisds,  the 
guilty  person  is  obliged  to  pay  the  price  of  blood 
(diya) ;  according  to  the  IJanafites,  however,  the 
diya  cannot  be  demanded  in  this  case,  if  the  guilty 
person  does  not  himself  agree  to  it.  If  the  deceased 
has  left  various  heirs,  and  some  of  them  are  willing 
to  spare  the  guilty,  no  vengeance  for  blood  may  be 
exacted,  but  only  the  diya. 

Vengeance  for  blood  is  carried  out  personally, 
under  the  supervision  of  the  judge,  by  those  who 
have  instituted  the  proceedings  against  the  guilty 
person.  If  there  are  several  who  demand  it,  one 
of  them  is  appointed  to  carry  out  the  punishment. 

3.  The  price  of  blood  for  manslaughter  (diya). 
— The  price  of  blood  for  manslaughter  may  be 
demanded :  (1)  when  any  one  has  been  killed 
deliberately  and  unjustly,  and  his  heirs  give  up 
their  right  to  exact  the  qisds  ;  (2)  when  any  one  has 
been  killed  unintentionally.1  In  both  cases  the 
diya  consists  of  100  camels,  or  1000  dinar  of  gold, 
or  12,000  dirhams  of  silver  (according  to  the 
Uanafites,  however,  10,000  dirliams  of  silver).  But 
in  the  first  case  the  so-called  '  heavy,'  and  in  the 
second  case  the  '  light,'  price  of  blood  is  incurred. 
In  the  fiqh  it  is  accurately  decided  what  sorts  of 
camels  must  he  given  in  each  of  these  cases.  If 
gold  or  silver  is  paid  in  place  of  camels,  according 
to  some  Muslim  lawyers  a  greater  sum  may  be 
demanded  for  the  '  heavy '  diya  than  for  the  '  light ' ; 
but  according  to  others  it  is  not  so  ;  and,  according 
to  the  later  opinion  of  Shafi'I,  no  fixed  payment  of 
gold  or  silver  is  due,  but  the  worth  of  the  100 
camels.  The  'light'  price  of  blood  must  be  paid 
within  a  period  of  three  years  by  the  so-called 
'aqila,  i.e.  by  those  who  pay  the  'aql  ('price  of 
blood ').  To  these  'aqila  belong,  according  to  the 
Ilanafites  and  Malikites,  all  'asabdt  (i.e.  the  male 
relations  on  the  paternal  side)  of  the  culprit,  and 
according  to  them  he  must  also  himself  pay  part  of 
the  sum  incurred ;  according  to  the  Shafi'ites,  on 
the  other  hand,  neither  the  culprit  himself  nor  his 
blood-relations  in  the  direct  line  belong  to  the 
'aqila. 

When  the  Muslims  after  the  great  conquests 
established  themselves  in  Egypt,  Syria,  Persia, 
and  other  lands,  the  Old  Arabian  family-organiza- 
tion partially  lost  its  importance,  and  there  arose 
a  new  grouping  of  persons  who  had  the  same 
interests  to  defend.  According  to  the  Hanafites, 
the  same  rules  concerning  the  payment  of  the  price 
of  blood  are  applicable  to  these  new  groups  as  to 
the  blood-relations  of  the  guilty  person  ;  according 
to  them,  therefore,  all  persons  belong  to  the  'aqila 
who  are  bound  to  give  their  mutual  support  to  each 
other  (among  others,  neighbours,  those  who  practise 
the  same  profession,  those  who  belong  to  the  same 
army-corps).  The  'heavy'  price  of  blood,  on  the 
other  hand,  may  be  demanded  only  from  the  culprit 
himself  ;  and,  according  to  most  faqihs,  he  has  no 
right  to  postpone  payment.  According  to  the 
Hanafites,  however,  he  also  is  only  obliged  to  pay 
the  sum  within  a  period  of  three  years. 

(3)  Besides  the  cases  in  which  any  one  is  killed 
either  intentionally  or  accidentally,  Muslim  lawyers 
distinguish  yet  a  third  case  in  which  the  culprit 
did,  indeed,  attack  the  deceased  intentionally,  but 
without  meaning  to  kill  him.  In  that  case  the 
'aqila  must  pay  the  so-called  'heavy'  diya.  They 
are  also  obliged  to  do  this,  according  to  some 
Muslim  la-wyers,  if  he  has  killed  another  accident- 
ally, either  in  the  sacred  territory  of  Meccaorduring 
one  of  the  four  sacred  months  (Muharram,  Rajab, 
1  It  must  be  noticed  that,  according  to  Muslim  lawyers,  any 
one  who  has  accidentally  killed  another  is  punishable  even  if 
no  fault  attached  to  him  in  so  doing.  The  price  of  blood  may 
even  be  demanded  if,  for  instance,  any  one  has  fallen  from  the 
roof  and  in  his  fall  has  killed  another. 


Dhu'l-qa'da,  Dhu'l-hijja) ;  further,  if  the  deceased 
was  a  mahram  (i.e.  a  relation  whom  it  is  forbidden 
to  marry)  of  the  culprit ;  according  to  others,  how- 
ever, they  are  in  this  case  liable  only  to  the  '  light ' 
diya. 

For  the  death  of  a  woman  only  half  the  price  of 
blood  can  be  demanded ;  for  the  death  of  a  Christian 
or  a  Jew,  according  to  the  Malikites,  also  only  half 
the  diya,  according  to  the  Shafi'ites  only  one 
third,  but,  according  to  the  Ilanafites,  the  full 
price  of  blood.  If  any  one  kills  the  slave  of  another, 
according  to  most  Muslim  lawyers  he  must  himself 
make  good  to  the  owner  the  full  value,  even  though 
this  cost  more  than  the  diya  for  a  free  man ; 
according  to  the  Ilanafites,  however,  the  owner 
has  never  a  claim  to  more  than  the  value  of  100 
camels  decreased  by  one  dinar.  If  the  culprit  was 
under  age  or  mad,  the  price  of  blood  must  be  paid 
out  of  his  property  by  the  guardian  or  curator  ;  if 
the  culprit  was  a  slave,  his  master  is  responsible, 
but  he  can  free  himself  from  all  further  obligation 
by  giving  up  the  slave. 

In  addition  to  the  qisds  or  the  diya,  manslaughter 
demands  a  kaffara  ( '  atoning  sacrifice ') ;  and, 
according  to  Qur'an,  iv.  94,  this  must  consist  in  the 
setting  free  of  a  Muslim  slave,  or,  if  this  cannot  be 
done,  in  fasting  for  two  months.  The  feeding  of 
60  poor  persons,  which  in  some  other  cases  of 
kaffara  may  take  the  place  of  fasting,  is  in  this 
case,  according  to  mostfaqihs,  insufficient.  Accord- 
ing to  the  Ilanafites  and  Malikites,  this  kaffara  is 
incurred  only  when  any  one  has  been  put  to  death 
accidentally  (on  the  ground  of  the  words  of  Qur'an, 
iv.  94) ;  but,  according  to  the  Shafi'ites,  also  if  the 
culprit  has  acted  intentionally. 

4.  The  diya  and  other  damages  for  wounding. 
— The  wounded  person,  as  has  already  been  noted, 
if  he  gives  up  his  right  to  qisds,  claims  the  diya  in 
place  of  it  (according  to  the  Ilanafites,  only  if  the 
guilty  person  agrees).  The  full  diya  is  incurred 
when,  because  of  the  wound,  a  part  of  the  body  is 
lost  (e.g.  the  nose)  of  which  a  man  has  only  one  ; 
he  who  loses  a  part  of  the  body  of  which  men  have 
two  (e.g.  an  eye,  ear,  hand,  or  foot)  may  claim  the 
half  of  the  diya  as  damages ;  in  the  same  way  J 
of  the  full  price  of  blood  is  incurred  for  an  eyelid, 
tV  for  a  finger,  and  for  a  joint  of  a  finger  -fc  of 
the  diya.  The  rules  and  distinctions  concerning 
the  diya  for  manslaughter  apply  also  to  the  diya 
for  lost  parts  of  the  body. 

Damages  are  incurred  also  for  wounds  for  which 
no  qisds  can  be  demanded,  as,  for  instance,  those 
which  are  caused  by  stabbing  or  cutting  the 
body.  In  the  Muslim  law-books,  regulations  con- 
cerning the  various  sorts  of  these  wounds  are 
worked  out  in  detail.  Ten  of  them  (all  wounds 
caused  by  cutting  on  the  head  or  the  face)  are 
known  as  the  shijdj ;  the  mudiha  is  a  wound  which 
has  cut  to  the  bone,  etc.  The  damages  which  the 
culprit  must  pay  depend  in  some  cases  on  an 
express  regulation  of  the  law-books,  and  are  then 
called  arsh ;  in  other  cases  they  must  be  fixed  by  a 
legal  sentence  (hukuma),  according  to  the  loss 
suffered  by  the  injured.  An  expert  has  then  to 
estimate  what  value  the  body  of  the  wounded 
person  would  have  had  before  and  after  the  wound, 
if  he  was  a  slave.  If  it  appears  that  the  value  of 
his  body  was  diminished  by,  for  instance,  fV>  the 
judge  sentences  the  culprit  to  pay  <fa  of  the  full 
diya.  If  any  one  has  been  wounded  simultaneously 
in  several  places,  he  may  claim  damages  for  each 
wound  separately,  and  therefore  in  some  cases  may 
receive  even  more  than  the  diya  for  manslaughter. 

5.  Misdeeds  which  must  be  punished  with  a 
hadd. — For  the  hadd  in  consequence  of  zind,  see 
art.  ADULTERY  (Muslim).  The  punishment  for 
apostasy  from  Islam,  which  is  regarded  by  some 
Muslim    jurists    as    a    hadd,   is  treated    in    art. 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Muhammadan) 


293 


Apostasy  (Muhammadan).  We  have  therefore 
here  to  treat  only  of  the  other  fixed  penalties,  viz. 
those  for  qadhf,  wine-drinking,  theft,  and  high- 
way rohbery. 

(1)  Qadhf. — By  this  the  Muslim  canon  law 
understands  only  such  slander  as  is  meant  in 
Qur'an,  xxiv.  4.  Since  only  slander  of  '  honour- 
able' women  is  mentioned  there,  the  crime  of 
qadhf  consists,  according  to  Muslim  lawyers,  of 
the  accusation  of  fornication  brought  against  a 
mulisan  (i.e.  an  'honourable'  person,  who  is, 
moreover,  a  free  Muslim  of  full  age,  in  the  full 
possession  of  intellectual  power)  without  its  being 
possible  to  adduce  proof  by  four  male  witnesses. 
He  who  is  guilty  of  this  crime  must  be  punished 
with  80  stripes  if  he  is  a  free  man,  and  with  40  if 
he  is  a  slave.  This  hadd  is  not  enforced  if  he  is 
under  age,  or  insane,  or  if  he  is  the  husband  of 
the  slandered  woman  and  swears  that  she  is  guilty, 
invoking  Allah  by  means  of  the  so-called  li'an  (see 
art.  Law  [Muhammadan]).  According  to  some 
Muslim  lawyers,  the  slandered  person  has  the  right 
of  excusing  the  punishment  of  the  guilty,  but  not 
according  to  others ;  there  is  also  a  difference  of 
opinion  as  to  whether  the  heirs  of  the  slandered 
person  have  the  right  of  exacting  this  hadd. 

(2)  The  hadd  for  the  drinking  of  wine  and  other 
strong  drinks  consists  of  a  certain  number  of 
stripes,  on  the  ground  of  the  tradition  as  to  the 
way  in  which  the  Prophet  punished  drunkards  in 
Medina.  As  to  the  number  of  stripes,  there  is  a 
difference  of  opinion :  according  to  the  Shafi'ites, 
the  punishment  consists  of  40,  according  to  the  other 
_/?yA-schools,  of  80  stripes  for  a  free  man,  and  the 
half  of  that  number  for  slaves.  The  guilt  of  him 
who  is  accused  of  this  crime  can,  according  to 
canon  law,  be  proved  only  by  two  male  witnesses, 
or  by  the  confession  of  the  guilty.  Moreover,  the 
punishment  is  not  applicable  to  minors,  insane 
persons,  and  unbelievers. 

(3)  The  hadd  for  theft  depends  on  the  command 
given  in  Qur'an,  v.  42,  43,  '  From  the  man  thief 
and  woman  thief  cut  off  the  hands,  as  a  warning 
example  from  God.'  According  to  the  Shafi'ite 
and  the  Malikite  doctrine,  a  thief  after  his  first 
theft  must  lose  the  right  hand,  after  the  second 
the  left  foot,  after  the  third  the  left  hand,  after 
the  fourth  the  right  foot,  and  after  the  fifth  and 
following  thefts  he  must  be  punished  by  ta'zir. 
According  to  the  Hanafites,  however,  the  thief 
must  never  lose  more  than  the  right  hand  and  the 
left  foot ;  if  he  continues  to  steal  after  his  second 
offence,  he  must  be  kept  in  prison  until  he  is  re- 
formed. 

Theft  is,  however,  punished  with  this  hadd  only 
when  the  stolen  article  had  been  put  away  in  a 
proper  manner,  and,  moreover,  had  a  certain  value 
(the  so-called  nisdb).  According  to  the  Shafi'ites, 
the  hadd  is  applicable  only  if  the  value  of  that 
which  is  stolen  is  at  least  J  of  a  dinar  (about  3 
shillings) ;  according  to  the  Hanafites,  only  if  the 
worth  was  at  least  one  dinar,  or  10  dirhams; 
according  to  the  Malikites,  J  of  a  dinar,  or  3 
dirhams. 

The  hadd  for  theft  is  also  not  applied  if  the  thief 
was  under  age  or  insane,  or  if  he  could  make  good 
a  certain  claim  to  the  stolen  property.  The  last  is 
the  case  if  one  of  those  who  have  taken  part  in  a 
battle  steals  something  from  the  booty  before  it 
has  been  divided  among  the  troops,  or  if  a  Muslim 
steals  from  that  which  was  intended  for  the  general 
use  of  Muslims.  If  one  of  a  married  couple  steals 
something  to  the  injury  of  the  other,  according  to 
some  Muslim  lawyers  the  culprit  must  be  punished 
with  hadd,  but  not  according  to  the  opinion  of 
others. 

The  person  whose  property  was  stolen  has  the 
right  to  reclaim  the  stolen  article  ;  and,  if  this  has 


been  lost,  the  thief  must  pay  damages  in  its  place. 
According  to  the  Hanafite  doctrine,  however,  the 
thief  is  not  obliged  to  make  such  payment  of 
damages  if  the  hadd  for  theft  has  been  applied  to 
him. 

(4)  The  hadd  for  highway-robbery  is  deduced 
from  Qur'an,  v.  37,  38  : 

4  The  punishment  for  those  who  fight  against  Allah  and  his 
apostle,  and  pass  through  the  land  spreading  disaster,  shall  be 
that  they  shall  be  slain  or  crucified,  or  have  their  hands  and  feet 
cut  off  cross-ways,  or  that  they  be  banished  from  the  land  .  .  . 
unless  they  reform  before  they  fall  into  your  hands.  God  is 
forgiving  and  compassionate.' 

Since,  therefore,  this  hadd  was  not  accurately 
defined,  there  arose  much  difference  of  opinion 
among  Muslim  lawyers  as  to  the  punishment  of 
highway-robbers.  The  various  opinions  cannot  all 
be  mentioned  here  in  detail.  According  to  the 
Shafi'ite  doctrine,  four  cases  must  be  distinguished  : 
(1)  if  the  culprit  has  only  made  the  road  unsafe, 
he  must  be  banished ;  (2)  if  he  has  also  practised 
robbery  (namely,  in  the  sense  that  he  would  incur 
the  hadd  for  theft  if  he  were  not  a  highwayman), 
his  right  hand  and  left  foot  are  cut  oft'  (in  the  case 
of  a  repetition  of  the  offence,  the  left  hand  and 
right  foot  as  well) ;  (3)  if  he  has  deliberately 
murdered  any  one,  he  must  be  put  to  death,  even 
though  the  heirs  of  the  murdered  person  were 
willing  to  content  themselves  with  the  diya  ;  (4)  if 
he  has  as  a  highway -robber  robbed  and  killed,  not 
only  is  he  punished  with  death,  but  his  corpse  is 
exhibited  for  a  time  on  a  cross.  According  to  the 
other  madhhabs,  regulations  obtain  which  are 
partially  different. 

When  the  robber  repents  before  he  has  been 
captured,  the  special  hadd  for  highway-robbery  is 
no  longer  applicable  to  him,  but  he  remains,  for 
instance,  obliged  to  restore  that  which  has  been 
stolen  ;  and,  if  he  has  killed  any  one,  the  heirs  of 
the  latter  have,  just  as  in  other  cases,  the  right  of 
exacting  the  qisds  or  diya. 

6.  Ta'zir  ('correction'). — When  no  special  pun- 
ishment is  prescribed,  the  judge,  as  has  already 
been  noted,  must  condemn  the  culprit  to  the 
punishment  which  seems  to  him  to  be  the  most 
suitable  in  view  of  the  circumstances.  He  may, 
for  instance,  send  him  to  prison,  exile  him,  or 
sentence  him  to  be  publicly  put  to  shame  or 
scourged,  etc.  According  to  the  Malikite  doctrine, 
he  is  even  entitled  in  this  case  to  condemn  him  to 
as  many  stripes  as  are  prescribed  in  the  case  of 
hadd,  or  even  more ;  according  to  the  other  fiqh- 
schools,  however,  this  is  not  permissible.  Accord- 
ing to  them,  the  ta'zir  must  always  be  less  severe 
than  a  hadd.  The  ta'zir  is,  among  other  things, 
applicable  to  a  thief  when  the  stolen  property  has 
not  so  much  value  that  the  culprit  must  be 
condemned  to  the  hadd ;  furthermore,  in  general, 
to  all  kinds  of  transgressions  for  which  no  other 
kind  of  punishment  or  any  special  atoning  sacrifice 
{kaffara)  is  prescribed. 

The  judge  is  not  always  obliged  to  apply  the 
ta'zir ;  according  to  the  Shafi'ites,  only  when  the 
injured  person  expressly  requires  him  to  punish 
the  culprit ;  and,  according  to  the  Hanafites  and 
Malikites,  also  when  he  is  convinced  that  the  latter 
will  not  reform  without  punishment.  A  hadd,  on 
the  other  hand,  must  always  be  inflicted  when  the 
guilt  of  the  culprit  has  been  proved,  because  this 
punishment  is  expressly  prescribed  in  the  canon 
law. 

LiTERATtmE. — J.  Wellhausen,  Reste  arab.  Heidentums2, 
Berlin,  1S97,  p.  186  ff.  ;  A.  von  Kremer,  Culturgesch.  des 
Orients  unter  den  Chalifen,  Vienna,  1875,  i.  459-469,  540  ff. ;  O. 
Procksch,  titer  die  Blutrache  bei  den  vorislam.  Arabern  und 
Mohammeds  Stellung  zu  ihr,  Leipzig,  1899  ;  I.  Goldziher, '  Das 
Strafrecht  im  Islam  '  {Zum.  dltesten  Strafrecht  der  Kulturvblker : 
Fragen  zur  Rechtsvergleichung  gestellt  von  Th.  Mommsen, 
beantwortet_  von  H.  Brunner,  u.a.,  Leipzig,  1905,  pp.  101-1 12) ;  J. 
Kohler,  '  Uber  das  vorislam.  Recht  der  Araber'  (ZVRWvm. 
I  238-261) ;   E.  Sachau,  Muhamm.  Recht  nach  schafiit.  Lehre, 


294 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Parsi) 


Berlin,  1897,  pp.  757-849  (cf.  0.  Snouck  Hurgronje's  review  in 
ZD3IG  liii.  [1899]  161-167);  J.  Krcsmarik,  'Beitriige  zur 
Beleuchtung  des  islam.  Strafrechts,  mit  Riicksicht  auf  Theorie 
und  Praxis  in  der  Turkei'  (ZD3IG  lviii.  [1904]  69-113,  316-360, 
639-581) ;  L.  W.  C.  van  den  Berg,  '  Le  Droit  penal  de  la 
Turquie'  (F.  von  Liazfc,  La  Legislation  penale  comparte,  i., 
Berlin-Paris,  1894)  ;  M.  B.  Vincent,  '  fitudes  sur  la  loi  musul- 
mane  (Rite  de  Malek),'  (Legislation  criminelle,  Paris,  1842); 
and  the  present  writer's  Handbuch  des  islam.  Gesetzes,  Leyden- 
Leipzig,  1910,  pp.  284-309.  TH.  W.  JUYNBOLL. 

CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Parsi).— 
From  the  list  of  the  contents  of  the  original 
twenty-one  nasks  of  the  Zoroastrian  canon,  the 
bulk  of  which  is  irretrievably  lost,  we  find  that 
seven  of  them  consisted  of  the  ddtik,  or  '  legal ' 
literature  (Dinkart,  viii.  1,  11).  Of  these  the 
Vendidad,  '  the  Leviticus  of  the  Iranians, '  is  pre- 
served in  its  entirety,  and  this  work,  with  some 
other  portions  of  the  extant  Avesta  and  Pahlavi 
books,  forms  the  chief  source  of  our  information  on 
the  criminal  law  of  the  ancient  Persians. 

Offenders  against  law  are  punished,  first,  in  this 
world,  according  to  the  penalties  laid  down  for 
various  crimes ;  and,  secondly,  in  the  next  world. 
The  usual  form  of  corporal  punishment  is  the  pre- 
scription of  a  certain  number  of  stripes  (upazana) 
with  the  two  implements  aspa-aStrd  ( '  horse-goad ') 
and  sraoSo-carand  ('scourge').  The  number  of 
such  strides  prescribed  for  different  crimes  ranges 
between  hve  and  ten  thousand.  The  extravagant 
number  of  strokes  and  the  physical  impossibility 
of  a  human  being  enduring  this  torture  have  led 
scholars  to  think,  with  Spiegel,  Geiger,  and  Dar- 
mesteter,  that  the  stripes  were  not  actually  meant 
to  be  laid  on  the  culprits,  but  that  the  number  of 
strokes  either  meant  that  the  sinner  should  kill  so 
many  noxious  creatures,  or  that  they  were  so  many 
strokes  inflicted  upon  the  realm  of  darkness,  or 
that  they  were  only  meant  to  impress  on  men  the 
gravity  of  the  crimes.  For  instance,  it  is  pre- 
scribed that  a  woman  who  has  been  delivered  of  a 
still-born  child  shall  refrain  from  drinking  water  for 
the  good  of  her  own  health  for  some  time  ( Vend. 
vii.  60-72).  The  violation  of  this  precept  is  punish- 
able witb  two  hundred  stripes.  Now  this  would 
be  brutal,  and  the  later  writer  of  the  Rivayat 
states  that  in  such  a  case,  if  she  should  thus  drink 
water  to  avert  serious  il  Iness,  it  would  be  sufficient 
for  her  husband  to  atone  for  her  fault  before  a 
Dastur  by  patet,  or  'penitence'  (Old  Rivayat,  p. 
986,  quoted  by  Darmesteter  in  SBE  iv.  92,  n.  5,  Le 
Zend-Avesta,  ii.  112,  n.  88).  In  the  later  Pahlavi 
period,  these  stripes  are  converted  into  money 
value,  and  certain  fines  are  laid  down  for  the 
various  number  of  stripes.  Very  often  the  word 
margarzdn,  '  worthy  of  death,'  is  loosely  employed 
to  denote  the  hideousness  of  a  crime.  Some 
offences  are  termed  andperetha,  'unatonable.' 
The  chief  among  them  are  the  burying,  burning, 
and  eating  of  dead  matter,  and  sodomy. 

The  characteristic  feature  of  the  Mazdayasnian 
law  is  that  it  prescribes  very  rigorous  punishment 
for  the  violation  of  the  rules  of  sanitation  and 
hygiene ;  for  it  is  said  that  the  man  who  violates 
these  rules  imports  or  furthers  epidemic,  and 
endangers  human  life.  The  punishment  for  the 
ill-treatment  of  the  various  classes  of  dogs  is  ex- 
orbitant, and  is  calculated  to  ensure  good  treat- 
ment of  this  faithful  animal,  who  as  a  sentinel 
guards  the  flocks  of  the  faithful,  and  protects  them 
from  the  attacks  of  wolves  and  other  wild  beasts, 
as  also  from  the.  depredations  of  thieves  and 
bandits.  Any  wilful  harm  done  to  so  useful  an 
animal  is  believed  to  deprive  the  community  of 
his  services,  and  to  expose  life  and  property  to 
danger. 

Capital  punishment  is  prescribed  for  the  man 
who  carries  a  dead  body  alone,  and  for  the  man 
who  falsely  undertakes  to  cleanse  one  defiled  with 


dead  matter.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  only  ninety 
stripes  are  prescriDed  for  one  who  commits  murder. 
Instances  are  found  in  Persian  history  in  which 
capital  punishment  is  meted  out  to  manslayers 
When  the  Sasanian  king  Ardashir  discovers  the 
plot  of  his  queen  to  poison  him,  he  consults  the 
Dastur  as  to  what  should  be  done  in  the  matter. 
The  high  priest  thereupon  replies  that  one  who 
attempts  to  take  the  life  of  another  deserves  death 
(Karndmak-i  Artakhshir-Pdpakdn,  ix.  16-17). 
The  cruel  punishment  of  cutting  off  the  hands, 
ears,  and  other  parts  of  the  body,  is  not  unknown. 
Darius  orders  the  nose,  ears,  and  tongue  of  his 
rebel  victim  to  be  cut  off,  and  his  eyes  to  be  put 
out  ( Old  Pers.  Inscriptions  on  Mount  Behistan,  ii. 
74,  89  ;  see  F.  H.  Weissbach  and  W.  Bang,  Die 
altpersischen  Keilinschriften,  Leipzig,  1893,  i.  21). 

1.  Assaults. — There  are  seven  kinds  of  outrages, 
which  are  called  in  Pahlavi  pdyak  vinds,  and  in 
Sanskrit  padani  pdpdni,  meaning  '  chief  crimes ' 
(Shdyast  la-Shdyast,  i.  1 ;  Patet  Pashimani,  iii.). 
These  are  (1)  dgerepta,  'stroke' :  when  a  man  lifts 
his  hand  and  wields  a  weapon  with  the  intention 
to  strike  a  blow,  he  becomes  guilty  of  this  crime 
( Vendidad,  iv.  17).  The  punishment  for  the  first 
offence  is  five  stripes  with  the  aspa-aStrd  and  five 
with  the  sraoSo-carand.  The  penalty  increases 
proportionately  with  the  repetition  of  the  crime, 
until,  on  the  eighth  committal  of  the  same,  the 
man  is  termed  a  peSotanu,  '  of  sinful  body,'  and  is 
to  be  punished  with  two  hundred  stripes  ( ib.  18-21). 
(2)  avaoiriita,  '  blow.'  This  is  the  name  of  the 
assault  wherein  a  man  brandishes  a  weapon  ( Vend. 
iv.  17).  He  receives  ten  stripes  for  the  first  crime, 
and  the  maximum  penalty  of  two  hundred  stripes 
is  prescribed  in  his  case  if,  without  atoning  for 
his  previous  crimes,  he  repeats  it  seven  times  (ib. 
22-25).  (3)  areduS,  'wound.'  The  penalty  for  this 
crime  begins  with  fifteen  stripes,  and  makes  the 
culprit  liable  to  two  hundred  stripes  on  the  repeti- 
tion of  the  same  for  the  sixth  time  (ib.  26-29).  (4) 
xvara,  'sore  wound.'  This  is  punishable  with 
thirty  stripes  for  the  first  crime,  and  two  hundred 
for  the  fifth  repetition  (ib.  30-33).  (5)  tacat- 
vohunl,  '  bloody  wound. '  The  penalty  is  fifty 
stripes  for  the  first  offence,  and  the  fourth  com- 
mittal of  the  same  raises  the  punishment  to  two  hun- 
dred stripes  (ib.  34-36).  (6)  asto-bid,  'bone-break- 
ing,' begins  with  the  punishment  of  seventy  stripes 
for  the  first  offence,  and  closes  with  that  of  two 
hundred  stripes  for  its  third  repetition  (ib.  37-39). 
(7) frazd-baodhah,  'rendering  unconscious  or  caus- 
ing death.'  The  punishment  for  this  crime  is 
ninety  stripes  for  the  first  offence,  and  two  hundred 
for  the  second  (ib.  40-42). 

The  Pahlavi  Shdyast  la-Shayast  variously  speaks 
of  eight  or  nine  classes  of  crimes  (i.  1 ,  xi.  1 ).  The  far- 
man  and  sraoSo-carana  are  the  additional  sins  men- 
tioned here.  Certain  degrees  are  assigned  to  the 
various  crimes,  and  the  bodily  punishment  is  con- 
verted into  fines.  Thus  the  degree  of  the  smallest 
crime,  farmdn,  is  estimated  at  four  stars  (a  star 
being  equivalent  to  four  dirhams).  The  degrees  of 
the  crimes  rise  in  proportion  to  the  gravity  of  the 
offences,  until  the  tanafur  sin  is  estimated  at  three 
hundred  stars  (i.  2,  xi.  2,  xvi.  2-5). 

2.  Theft.— The  tdyu,  'thief,'  and  hazanha, 
'robber,'  'bandit,'  who  rob  the  faithful  of  their 
cattle  and  property,  are  severely  punished.  Accord- 
ing to  the  Mazdayasnian  declaration  of  faith,  a  true 
Zoroastrian  undertakes  to  put  down  these  crimes 
(Yasna,  xii.  2).  Haoma  is  invoked  to  warn  the 
faithful  of  the  cunning  movements  of  the  thieves 
(ib.  ix.  21),  and  Rashnu,  the  angel  presiding  over 
truth,  is  spoken  of  as  the  best  killer,  smiter,  and 
destroyer  of  the  thieves  and  bandits  (Yasht,  xii. 
7f.).  The  sacrifices  offered  to  Khurshed,  asking 
him   to   help  the   pious  to  withstand    these  evil 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Parsi) 


295 


forces,  is  said  to  be  equivalent  to  offering  the 
same  to  Ormazd  ( Yt.  vi.  4 ;  Nyaish,  i.  14),  and 
Ardvisura  is  invoked  to  pour  down  her  waters  as  a 
source  of  torment  to  the  brigands  ( Ys.  lxv.  8).  The 
routing  of  the  thieves  and  robbers  is  eagerly 
prayed  for  {Ys.  lxi.  3).  The  man  who  takes  a 
loan  from  another,  with  the  evil  intention  of  not 
returning  it,  is  a  thief  ;  and  the  commentator  ex- 
plains that,  if  he  bluntly  refuses  to  restore  it,  he 
becomes  a  robber  [Vend.  iv.  1). 

The  culprits  had  either  to  pay  fines,  or  their  ears 
and  hands  were  cut  off,  or  they  were  imprisoned. 
If  a  man  stole  a  dirham  (about  7d.),  he  had  to  pay 
two  dirhams,  one  of  his  ears  was  cut  off,  ten  blows 
with  a  stick  were  inflicted  upon  him,  and  he  was 
imprisoned  for  some  time  (Sad  Dar,  lxiv.  2-3).  If 
he  stole  another  dirham,  four  dirhams  formed 
his  fine,  he  had  to  forfeit  his  other  ear,  to  receive 
twenty  blows,  and  to  be  imprisoned  for  a  period 
twice  the  length  of  that  inflicted  at  the  time  of  his 
first  crime  (ib.  lxiv.  4).  The  third  repetition  of 
the  crime  was  punishable  by  cutting  off  his  right 
hand  (ib.  5),  and  if,  persisting  in  his  evil  work,  he 
finally  stole  five  hundred  dirhams,  he  was  to  be 
hanged  {ib.  6).  The  bandit  who  had  robbed  a  per- 
son of  something  by  violence,  had  to  restore  to  the 
owner  four  times  as  much  as  he  had  taken,  or  he  was 
to  be  killed  if  public  safety  required  it  [ib.  11 ;  cf., 
further,  on  theft,  Dinkart,  viii.  20.  123,  21.  1-14). 

3.  Breach  of  contract. — The  man  who  lies  to 
Mithra  is  guilty  of  Mithro-druj,  and  brings  death 
to  the  whole  country  (Yt.  x.  2).  The  faithful  are 
exhorted  not  to  violate  contracts  entered  into  with 
any  one.  The  six  important  forms  of  contract  are : 
(1)  word-contract,  (2)  hand-contract,  (3)  the  con- 
tract to  the  value  of  a  sheep,  (4)  the  contract  to 
the  value  of  an  ox,  (5)  the  contract  to  the  value  of 
a  man,  and  (6)  the  contract  amounting  to  the  value 
of  a  field  ( Vend.  iv.  2).  The  penalty  for  breaking 
these  contracts  begins  with  three  hundred  stripes 
with  aspa-aStra  and  an  equal  number  with  sraoSo- 
carana,  for  the  violation  of  the  first  class  of 
contract,  and  rises  to  the  maximum  punishment  of 
a  thousand  stripes  each  in  case  of  the  breach  of 
the  final  contract,  namely,  the  field-contract  (ib. 
11-16). 

4.  Crimes  connected  with  the  defilement  caused 
by  corpses  and  dead  matter. — The  earth,  being 
one  of  the  sacred  elements  of  nature,  is  to  be  kept 
pure  from  defilement.  Ahriman  created  the  sin 
of  interring  corpses  in  the  earth,  for  which  there 
is  no  atonement  (Vend.  i.  13,  iii.  39),  and  it  is 
therefore  the  sacred  duty  of  the  faithful  to  disinter 
the  dead  bodies,  wherever  possible.  If  a  man  lets 
a  corpse  remain  buried,  and  neglects  his  duty  to 
dig  it  out  within  six  months,  his  punishment  is 
five  hundred  stripes  with  each  of  the  two  punish- 
ing rods.  The  penalty  is  doubled  in  the  case  of  a 
corpse  remaining  buried  for  a  period  of  one  year, 
and  if  it  is  not  disinterred  within  a  period  of  two 
years,  it  makes  the  man  guilty  of  anaperetha,  for 
which  there  is  no  atonement  (ib.  iii.  36-39). 

Under  no  circumstances  is  a  corpse  to  be  carried 
by  a  single  person,  lest  he  should  be  defiled. 
Capital  punishment  is  meted  out  to  him  who 
violates  this  precept.  The  culprit  is  to  be  removed 
to  a  barren  place,  and  to  be  kept  there  until  he 
grows  old,  after  which  his  head  is  to  be  cut  off  (ib. 
15-21).  The  man  who  does  not  properly  observe 
the  rules  of  removing  the  corpse  to  the  top  of  a 
mountain,  and  fastening  the  body  with  brass  or 
stones  by  the  feet  or  hair,  to  prevent  the  dogs  and 
birds  from  carrying  the  dead  matter  to  water  and 
trees,  is  to  be  punished  with  two  hundred  stripes 
(ib.  vi.  47  f.).  If  a  man,  happening  to  touch  a 
corpse  in  the  wilderness,  approaches  water  and 
trees  without  cleansing  himself,  he  receives  four 
hundred  stripes  with  each  of  the  two  instruments  (ib. 


viii.  104-106).  Wilful  carrying  of  the  dead  matter 
to  water  or  fire  makes  one  worthy  of  death  (Sad 
Dar,  lxxii.  1).  Unnecessary  waste  of  anything  is 
deprecated,  and  a  man  who  throws  more  cloth  on 
the  corpse  than  is  essential  has  to  suffer  the 
punishment  of  four  hundred  stripes,  rising  to  one 
thousand  stripes  with  both  the  whips,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  quantity  thus  wasted  ( Vend.  viii.  23-25). 

Among  the  worst  crimes  created  by  Ahriman  is 
that  of  cooking  corpses,  for  which  there  is  no 
atonement,  and  of  which  the  penalty  is  death 
(Vend.  i.  17,  viii.  73 f.;  Strabo,  p.  732).  The 
eating  of  the  carcass  of  a  dog  or  the  corpse  of  a 
man  makes  one  unclean  for  ever,  and  it  is  pre- 
scribed that  the  heart  of  the  man  guilty  of  this 
crime  shall  be  torn  out,  and  his  eyes  put  out 
( Vend.  vii.  23  ;  Sad  Dar,  lxxi.  2  ;  Orand  Kivayat, 
p.  123). 

The  ground  on  which  a  dog  or  man  has  died  is 
not  to  be  tilled  for  a  period  of  one  year.  The  man 
who  does  not  observe  this  rule  is  punishable  with 
two  hundred  stripes.  The  man  who  tills  the 
ground  without  cleansing  it  of  the  bones,  hair, 
urine,  and  blood  lying  on  it  becomes  a  peSotanu, 
and  receives  two  hundred  stripes  with  the  two 
instruments  of  punishment  as  a  penalty  (Vend. 
vi.  8f.).  It  is  sinful  to  throw  bones  of  a  dead 
dog  or  a  dead  man  on  the  ground,  as  the 
marrow  flowing  from  them  pollutes  the  ground. 
The  penalty  of  throwing  a  bone  of  the  size  of  the 
top-joint  of  the  little  finger  is  thirty  stripes,  and 
rises  proportionately,  to  the  maximum  penalty  of 
one  thousand  stripes  when  the  body  of  a  dead  dog 
or  a  dead  man  is  thrown  on  the  ground  (ib.  vi. 
10-25).  Bringing  back  fire  into  a  house  in  which 
a  man  has  died,  within  nine  nights  in  winter  and 
a  month  in  summer,  is  punishable  with  two  hun- 
dred stripes  with  the  aspa-aStra,  and  two  hundred 
with  the  sraolo-carana  (ib.  v.  43  f.). 

5.  The  crime  of  ill-treating  the  dog. — The 
Iranians  held  the  dog  as  the  sacred  animal  created 
by  Ormazd,  and  rigorous  punishments  are  pre- 
scribed for  his  ill-treatment.  The  giving  of  bad 
food  to  various  classes  of  dogs  is  punishable  with 
fifty  to  two  hundred  stripes,  in  accordance  with 
the  importance  of  the  class  of  dogs  ( Vend.  xiii. 
24-27).  Seven  hundred  stripes  with  each  of  the 
two  implements  are  prescribed  for  him  who  smites 
a  bitch  that  is  with  young  (ib.  xv.  50).  Five 
hundred  to  one  thousand  stripes  are  the  lot  of 
those  who  kill  various  kinds  of  dogs  (ib.  xiii.  4, 
12-15).  The  murder  of  a  water-dog  is  to  be  atoned 
for  by  ten  thousand  stripes,  or  by  carrying  ten 
thousand  loads  of  sweet-scented  wood  to  the  fire, 
or  an  equal  number  of  barsom  twigs,  or  by  carry- 
ing the  same  number  of  zaothra  libations  to  the 
waters,  or  by  killing  as  many  snakes  and  other 
noxious  creatures,  or  by  helping  to  contract 
marriage  between  the  faithful,  and  by  doing 
various  similar  redeeming  works  (ib.  xiv.  1-18). 

6.  Crimes  relating  to  women  in  menses. — 
Elaborate  rules  are  laid  down  for  the  period  of 
menstruation,  during  which  a  woman  remains  in 
seclusion,  the  violation  of  which  is  generally 
punishable  in  the  next  world.  Intercourse  with  a 
woman  during  this  period  amounts  to  wilful  mur- 
der, burning  of  the  life-giving  seed,  and  is  punished 
with  thirty  stripes  for  the  first  offence,  and  rises 
to  a  penalty  of  ninety  stripes  in  case  of  its  repeti- 
tion ( Vend.  xvi.  14-16).  The  penalty  rises  to  one 
thousand  stripes  when  the  offending  parties  wil- 
fully and  knowingly  indulge  in  the  crime,  and  the 
man  has  to  atone  for  his  sin  by  an  additional 
performance  of  meritorious  deeds,  as  those  of  kill- 
ing about  nine  thousand  noxious  creatures  such  as 
snakes,  frogs,  and  ants  (ib.  xviii.  67-74).  If  the 
woman  who  has  brought  forth  a  still-born  child 
drinks  water  for  the  good  of  her  own  health,  she 


296 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Roman) 


becomes  a  peiotanu — her  offence  is  punishable  with 
two  hundred  stripes  (ib.  vii.  70-72). 

7.  Crimes  regarding  the  purificatory  rites. — 
Capital  punishment  is  meted  out  to  him  who 
officiates  as  a  cleanser  without  himself  being  well 
versed  in  the  rites  of  cleansing.  His  hands  are  to 
be  bound,  his  head  is  to  be  cut  off,  and  his  body  is 
to  be  thrown  to  the  vultures  ( Vend.  ix.  47-49).  A 
later  work  prescribes  that  he  shall  be  nailed  with 
four  nails,  his  skin  taken  off,  and  his  head  cut  off 
(Fraser  Rivayat,  p.  398,  as  quoted  by  Darmesteter 
in  SBE  iv.  135,  n.  1,  Le  Zend-Avesta,  ii.  170,  n.  55). 

8.  Unnatural  crime. — Zoroaster  denounces  this 
deed  as  the  worst  crime  against  morality  ( Ys.  Ii. 
12).  Ahriman  is  its  creator  ( Vend.  i.  12).  There 
is  no  sin  greater  than  this,  and  the  man  practising 
it  becomes  worthy  of  death  (Sad  Dar,  ix.  2).  This 
is  the  only  crime  which  entitles  any  one  to  take  the 
law  into  his  own  hands,  and  to  cut  off  the  heads  of 
the  sodomites  and  to  rip  up  their  bellies  (ib.  ix. 
3  f.).  The  Datistan-i  Denik  (lxxvi.  3)  modifies  this, 
and  states  that,  before  taking  the  law  into  one's 
own  hands,  one  should  try  to  impress  the  heinous- 
ness  of  the  crime  on  the  minds  of  the  wicked 
sinners,  but,  if  that  is  of  no  avail,  one  may  kill 
them  on  the  spot.  The  sodomite  is  called  a 
demon,  a  worshipper  of  demons,  a  male  paramour 
of  demons,  a  female  paramour  of  demons,  a  wife  of 
demons,  as  wicked  as  a  demon  ;  he  is  a  demon  in 
his  whole  being  while  he  lives,  and  remains  so 
after  death  (Vend.  viii.  32).  The  faithful  should 
not  have  any  intercourse  with  such  a  man,  except 
by  way  of  attempting  to  reclaim  him  from  this 
inexpiable  crime  (Datistan-i  Denik,  lxxii.  10).  The 
crime  puts  one  on  a  par  with  Ahriman,  Afrasiyab, 
Zohak,  and  other  wicked  ones  (Sad  Dar,  ix.  5),  and 
greatly  increases  the  joy  of  the  Evil  Spirit  (ib.  6). 
Eight  hundred  stripes  with  each  of  the  two  rods 
is  the  penalty  for  him  who  has  been  forced  by 
violence  to  this  crime,  but  there  is  no  atonement 
for  him  who  voluntarily  submits  to  it  ( Vend.  viii. 
26  f . ).  The  same  crime  committed  with  a  woman 
is  equally  heinous  (Sad  Dar,  ix.  7). 

9.  Adultery  and  abortion. — See  Adultery 
(Parsi)  in  vol.  i.  p.  133  f.,  and  FETICIDE. 

Literature. — J.  Darmesteter,  Le  Zend-Avesta,  Paris,  1892, 
ii.,  Introd.  pp._  xv-xxiv,  SBE  iv.,  Introd.  lxxxii-lxxxvii ;  W. 
Geiger,  Ostirdn.  Kultur  im  Altertum,  Erlangen,  1882,  pp. 
453-460  (Eng.  tr.  by  Darab,  Civilisation  of  the  Eastern  Iranians 
London,  1885-1886,  ii.  35-43);  M.  Fluegel,  The  Zend-Avesta 
and  Eastern  Religions,  Baltimore,  1898,  pp.  199-204 ;  V.  Henry, 
Le  Parsisme,  Paris,  1905,  pp.  120-126 ;  Christensen,  L'Empire 
des  Sassanides,  Copenhagen,  1907,  pp.  68-74  ;  P.  K.  Motiwala, 
'The  Criminal  Law  of  Ancient  Iran,'  in  Cama  Memorial 
Volume,  Bombay,  1900,  pp.  183-199 ;  A.  K.  Vesavevala,  '  The 
Signification  of  the  Words  "  Upazananam  Upazoit," '  in  Spiegel 
Memorial  Volume,  Bombay,  1908,  pp.  125-129.  On  punishments 
(often  little  else  than  barbarous  caprice)  in  the  Persian  Empire, 
see  especially  B.  Brisson,  De  regio  Persarum  principatu,  ed. 
Lederlein,  Strassburg,  1710,  pp.  182 fE.,  666 fl.,  769;  G.  Rawlin- 
son,  Fifth  Oriental  Monarchy,  London,  1867,  ch.  iii.  sub  fin. 

Maneckji  Nusservanji  Dhalla. 
CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Roman).— 
Roman  law  never  acquired  on  its  criminal  side  the 
clearness  and  precision  which  characterized  its 
civil  applications,  in  an  ever  increasing  degree, 
until  the  collapse  of  the  Empire  came.  Among 
the  many  causes  for  the  imperfect  development  of 
criminal  law,  the  most  important  is  the  compara- 
tively large  influence  which  political  conditions 
exercised  upon  the  definition  and  punishment  of 
crime.  Under  the  democratic  system,  when  the 
assembled  citizens  were  in  theory  sovereign,  evolu- 
tion was  slow ;  with  the  advent  of  autocratic 
rulers — Sulla,  Julius  Csesar,  and  the  Emperors — 
change  proceeded  apace,  and  criminal  administra- 
tion was  made  more  systematic.  For  the  purposes 
of  our  brief  exposition,  three  sections  of  the  sub- 
ject may  be  distinguished.  The  first  comprises 
the  notions  attached  to  crime,  the  gradual  abridg- 
ment of  the  gulf  between  criminal  law  and  morality, 


and  the  widening  jurisdiction  of  the  State  over 
offences.  The  second  branch  concerns  the  pro- 
cedure leading  up  to  punishment ;  the  third,  the 
nature  of  the  punishments  inflicted.  Needless  to 
say,  the  boundaries  between  these  three  divisions 
cannot  be  precisely  drawn. 

In  the  earliest  days  of  the  Roman  community, 
most  functions  of  the  State  were  rudimentary, 
and  there  was  little  scope  for  the  public  punish- 
ment of  actions  committed  by  citizens,  even  when 
they  shocked  the  moral  sense.  Much  was  left  to 
the  vengeance  of  heaven,  and  in  some  cases  any 
citizen  could  make  himself  the  champion  of  the 
offended  gods.  The  close-knit  organization  of  the 
family  (familia)  and  the  clan  (gens)  also  greatly 
restricted  the  scope  of  criminal  law ;  and,  though 
the  framework  of  the  gens  early  fell  to  pieces,  that 
of  the  familia  retained  many  of  its  primitive 
elements  until  Roman  civilization  succumbed. 
Survivals  in  the  historical  period  clearly  show 
that  the  head  of  the  family  (paterfamilias)  once 
possessed  uncontrolled  authority  (imperium)  over 
the  lives  of  all  who  were  in  his  power.  The  wife, 
the  child  (born  in  the  family  or  brought  into  it  by 
adoption  from  without),  and  the  slave  were  in  this 
respect  all  on  the  same  level.  Of  course  ancestral 
custom  (mos  maiorum),  powerful  in  every  age  of 
Rome,  restricted  in  practice  the  exercise  of  this 
authority,  though  in  principle  it  was  absolute,  and 
required  it  to  be  used  with  a  certain  formality  and 
reasonableness.  The  law  stepped  in  later  and 
protected  to  an  increasing  extent  the  freeborn 
members  of  the  family.  New  forms  of  marriage 
enabled  the  wife  to  escape  from  the  .absolute 
imperium  of  her  husband.  Examples  of  the  execu- 
tion of  women  by  family  decree  are  found  in  the 
2nd  cent.  B.C.,  and  of  men  in  the  1st ;  but  the  bare 
right  of  the  head  of  the  family  to  put  to  death 
those  subjected  to  him  was  only  removed  by  Con- 
stantine,  and  the  cruel  exposure  of  newly-born 
children  was  permitted  long  after  his  time.  Even 
the  slave  was  protected  by  the  Imperial  legisla- 
tion.   See  art.  Constantine,  above,  p.  80. 

In  so  far  as  the  State  corrected  crime,  the 
supreme  magistrate,  whether  known  as  rex,  dic- 
tator, consul,  or  prcetor,  was,  in  the  remoter  age, 
in  the  same  position  as  the  paterfamilias,  that  is 
to  say,  his  imperium  was,  within  its  own  sphere, 
in  principle  unlimited,  though  he  would  often  have 
to  submit,  in  the  case  of  citizens,  to  the  force 
majeure  of  custom,  and  in  the  case  of  aliens  to 
that  of  treaty  obligations.  The  Republic  intro- 
duced, as  one  of  its  few  fundamental  innovations, 
the  right  of  appeal  (provocatio),  which  entitled 
every  citizen  to  a  trial  by  his  fellow-burgesses  in 
all  weightier  matters.  Only  in  special  circum- 
stances, which  will  be  described  later,  was  he 
subjected  to  arbitrary  treatment  during  the 
Republican  age.  The  protection  afforded  by  the 
provocatio  was  at  first  valid  only  against  magis- 
trates who  acted  within  the  city  and  a  thousand 
paces  outside,  but  it  was  gradually  extended  to 
Italy  and  even  to  the  provinces.  The  changes 
which  were  brought  about  by  the  Empire  were 
profound.  As  in  other  departments  of  govern- 
ment, so  in  criminal  administration,  the  Emperor 
became  supreme.  From  the  first  his  autocracy 
was  practical,  and  in  the  end  it  was  undisguised. 

Apart  from  the  traces  of  primitive  practice 
preserved  in  later  institutions,  the  first  glimpse 
afforded  to  us  of  the  criminal  side  of  Roman  law  is 
given  by  the  fragments  of  the  Twelve  Tables. 
Punishment  of  individuals  by  special  enactment 
(privilegium),  i.e.  by  an  act  of  attainder,  is  for- 
bidden. The  State  recognizes  as  offences  against 
itself  only  a  few  acts — treason  (perduellio),  aggra- 
vated murder  (parricidium),  arson,  theft  of  grain 
from  the  soil,  lampooning,  and  possibly  false  wit-ness. 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Roman) 


297 


The  definition  of  crimes  was  vague,  especially  (as 
was  natural)  in  the  case  of  treason,  but  later  legisla- 
tion gave  more  precision  to  the  legal  view  of  crime, 
and  extended  the  range  of  criminal  inquiry.  Sulla 
carried  out  a  great  codification  of  criminal  law, 
and  grouped  crimes  under  eight  or  nine  heads.  To 
each  group  a  separate  court  (quwstio)  was  assigned, 
each  with  a  fundamental  law,  dealing  carefully 
with  the  substance  and  the  forms  of  its  jurisdic- 
tion, and  Sulla's  regulations  were  further  elabor- 
ated by  Julius  Coesar  and  Augustus.  The  courts 
set  up  by  Sulla  dealt  with  the  following  crimes  :  (1) 
extortion  by  officials  in  the  provinces  (repetundce) ; 
(2)  theft  to  the  detriment  of  the  gods  (sacrilegium), 
or  of  the  State  (peculatus) ;  (3)  murder  and  offences 
akin  to  it — brigandage,  misuse  of  criminal  pro- 
cedure in  capital  cases,  poison,  magic,  arson,  and 
wrecking ;  (4)  public  bribery  (ambitus) ;  (5)  treason 
(now  termed  maiestas);  (6)  forgery  (/ahum);  (7) 
the  infliction  of  bodily  damage  {iniuria) ;  (8) 
public  violence  {vis);  and  (9)  kidnapping  (plagium). 
The  crimes  mentioned  are  only  the  principal  ones 
which  came  before  these  courts,  for  they  also  dealt 
with  many  other  outrages  (such  as  sexual  offences) 
by  direction  of  particular  statutes,  under  conditions 
which  are  difficult  to  determine.  Augustus  esta- 
blished separate  courts  to  deal  with  (1)  adultery, 
which  had  not  been  previously  treated  as  a  public 
crime  ;  and  (2)  usury,  against  which  many  Repub- 
lican statutes  had  been  directed  (mostly  in  vain), 
and  the  offence  of  artificially  raising  the  price  of 
corn.  Later  on,  many  forms  of  wrongdoing,  e.g. 
delatio  (the  trade  of  the  informer),  received  special 
attention  from  the  government.  Thus,  by  the 
time  of  the  early  Empire,  a  multitude  of  deeds, 
not  formerly  punishable,  or  punishable  only  by 
fine,  came  to  be  included  in  the  category  of  crimes, 
while  others  that  had  been  vaguely  classed  to- 
gether as  criminal  were  separated  and  precisely 
defined.  As  will  be  explained  later,  many  acts 
which  did  not  come  before  criminal  courts  properly 
so  called  were  subject  to  punishment  in  other 
ways.  The  repression  and  prevention  of  crime 
were  much  more  rigorously  carried  out  by  the 
Empire  than  by  the  Republic.  For  instance, 
Augustus  first  effectively  suppressed  brigandage  in 
Italy  and  piracy  on  the  high  seas.  The  range  of 
private  vengeance,  which  was  wide  in  the  early 
age,  was  now  narrowed  almost  to  vanishing  point, 
and  only  violent  attacks  against  which  there  was 
no  defence  but  violence  excused  homicide.  The 
Twelve  Tables  permitted  the  nocturnal  thief  to  be 
killed  unconditionally,  but  later  the  killer  had  to 
prove  urgent  need  for  his  action. 

One  department  of  crime  needs  special  comment 
— that  of  treason,  the  treatment  of  which  is  vital 
in  Roman  history  at  every  period.  The  old 
name  perduellio  indicates  by  its  derivation  that 
treachery  in  connexion  with  war  was  solely  or 
chiefly  viewed  as  treason  in  the  early  days ;  but 
soon  the  name  was  made  to  cover  any  act  which 
the  assembly  of  citizens  could  be  induced  to  regard 
as  a  deadly  injury  done  to  the  community  at  large. 
In  the  later  age  of  the  Republic,  the  offence  was 
called  maiestas,  which  is  an  abbreviation  for 
crimen  maiestatis  imminutm,  a  charge  of  impair- 
ing the  greatness  of  the  country.  The  range  of 
acts  which  might  come  under  this  description  was 
wide,  so  that  many  breaches  of  a  citizen's  or  a 
magistrate's  duty,  besides  those  closely  connected 
with  war,  belonged  to  this  category.  With  the 
establishment  of  the  Empire,  treasonable  actions 
came  to  be  viewed  as  directed  against  the  Emperor 
alone.  This  was  the  natural  ultimate  develop- 
ment of  the  Republican  idea  that  insults  to  the 
higher  magistrates  were  treasonable.  One  of  the 
most  interesting  Roman  applications  of  the  doctrine 
of  treason,  and  one  somewhat  remote  from  modern 


ideas,  made  it  cover  disrespect  for,  or  attacks  on, 
the  recognized  religion  of  the  State.  Regard  for 
religion  was  a  matter  of  civic  duty,  though  the 
State  did  not  force  religious  observances  on  the 
citizen  as  such  until  the  conflict  between  Chris- 
tianity and  the  Empire  became  acute  in  the  3rd 
century.  Till  then,  a  Christian's  religion  would 
rarely  bring  him  into  antagonism  with  the  govern- 
ment, unless  some  public  function,  such  as  that 
of  magistrate  or  soldier,  required  him  to  join 
in  heathen  ceremonies.  The  deification  of  the 
Emperors  provided  for  the  first  time  a  cult  which 
was  common  to  the  whole  Empire,  and  rendered  the 
position  of  the  Christians  more  difficult.  But  the 
persecutions  which  they  suffered  were  due  mainly 
to  local  fanaticism,  and  were  seldom  enjoined  or 
favoured  by  the  central  administration.  When 
Christianity  became  the  Imperial  religion,  both 
heathenism  and  heresy  were  treated  as  public 
offences. 

As  has  been  stated,  the  absolute  control  of  the 
chief  magistrate  over  punishment  was  abolished 
on  the  foundation  of  the  Republic.  The  right  of 
appeal  (provocatio)  entitled  the  citizen  to  a  trial  by 
his  fellow-burgesses,  and  the  magistrate  who  set 
the  right  at  naught  was  himself  subject  to  penalty. 
But  limits  were  imposed  on  the  provocatio,  some- 
times by  law,  sometimes  by  custom.  At  first  the 
dictator  was  not  bound  to  grant  an  appeal,  but  he 
was  placed  in  the  same  position  as  other  magis- 
trates by  a  lex  Valeria,  enacted  in  301  B.C. 
Military  rule  naturally  excluded  the  provocatio. 
The  idea  that  a  lex  Porcia,  passed  before  108  B.C., 
withdrew  from  the  commander  in  the  field  the 
right  to  impose  the  death  penalty,  rests  on  a  wrong 
inference  from  a  passage  in  Sallust  (Jug.  59).  The 
statutes  which  conferred  power  on  Sulla,  and 
on  the  Triumvirs  in  43  B.C.,  established  naked 
autocracies,  and  legalized  the  proscriptions.  The 
Senate  from  time  to  time  claimed  the  right  to 
authorize  the  magistrates  to  inquire  into  offences 
and  to  punish  them  without  regard  to  the  assembly. 
The  earliest  recorded  example  of  this  usurpation  is 
afforded  by  the  suppression  of  the  so-called  Bac- 
chanalian conspiracy  in  186  B.C.,  when,  in  a  time 
of  panic,  many  citizens,  as  well  as  members  of 
allied  communities,  were  arbitrarily  executed. 
This  was  done  in  the  interest  of  religion,  over 
which  the  Senate  exercised  an  unquestioned  super- 
vision, but  later  the  special  criminal  commission 
was  used  as  a  political  engine.  After  the  deaths  of 
the  Gracchi  many  of  their  supporters  suffered  in  this 
way,  though  the  younger  brother  was  the  author  of 
laws  which  were  designed  to  put  an  end  to  such 
proceedings.  The  decree  of  the  Senate,  commonly 
known  as  senatus  consultum  ultimum,  which  em- 
powered magistrates  to  attack  by  force  and  slay 
men  whom  the  senators  chose  to  regard  as  rebels, 
was  a  device  which  belonged  to  the  decadence  of 
the  Republic.  It  was  first  put  into  force  against 
the  younger  Gracchus  and  his  followers ;  the 
slaughter  of  the  elder  with  his  partisans  was  not 
even  covered  by  this  form.  The  decree  was  re- 
peatedly passed  and  acted  on  afterwards,  though 
its  legality  was  fiercely  contested  by  the  democrats. 
Apart  from  the  special  criminal  commissions  issued 
by  the  Senate,  and  the  senatus  consultum  ultimum, 
some  cases  existed  in  which  custom  sanctioned  the 
summary  punishment  of  a  wrongdoer.  Thus  err- 
ing Vestals  were  sentenced  to  death  by  the  Ponti- 
fex  Maximus,  though  in  the  later  Republican 
age  they  were  sometimes  arraigned  before  the 
assembly.  A  citizen  who  transgressed  against  the 
rights  of  a  foreign  people  could  be  surrendered  to 
that  people.  One  who  did  not  appear  when  sum- 
moned to  military  service  could  be  sold  into  slavery, 
and  so  might  the  burgess  who  disregarded  the  call 
of  the  censors  at    the  periodical  registration  of 


298 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Roman) 


citizens  and  their  property.  In  these  instances  the 
citizens  were  deemed  to  have  passed  judgment  on 
themselves  by  their  absence  (Cic.  pro  Ccec.  §  99).  It 
may  be  added  that,  in  the  last  century  of  the  Re- 
public, the  tribunes  of  the  plebs  sometimes  asserted, 
though  they  were  not  allowed  to  exercise,  the 
privilege  of  putting  to  death  summarily  any  one 
who  insulted  them.  This  was  assumed  to  be  in 
accordance  with  the  provisions  of  the  ancient 
leges  $acratce,  which  rendered  the  persons  of  the 
tribunes  inviolable.  These  laws,  like  others  of  an 
early  date,  merely  decreed  against  the  offender  the 
vague  condemnation  contained  in  the  words  saeer 
esto  ('let  him  be  accursed').  The  scholars  of  the 
later  Republic,  and  the  tribunes  along  with  them, 
held  that  the  clause  deprived  the  guilty  man  of  all 
legal  protection,  gave  every  citizen  the  right  to 
decide  upon  his  criminality,  and  allowed  his  blood 
to  be  shed  without  blame,  though,  from  the  earliest 
days  of  Roman  civilization,  some  public  control 
must  have  existed  over  such  executions. 

The  establishment  of  the  plebeian  tribunate  (494 
B.C.),  the  enactment  of  the  code  of  the  Decemvirs 
known  as  the  'Twelve  Tables'  (450  B.C.),  and 
the  laws  which  were  adopted  when  the  Decemvirs 
were  overthrown  (449  B.C.)  had  a  profound  effect 
upon  the  course  of  criminal  justice.  The  right  of 
appeal  was  strongly  confirmed.  Arbitrary  punish- 
ments of  individuals  by  the  assemblies,  apart  from 
the  provisions  of  general  statutes,  were  forbidden. 
Such  resolutions  of  the  assemblies  were  called 
privilegia.  Cicero  rightly  contended  that  his 
banishment  in  58  B.C.,  by  an  act  of  the  comitia 
centuriata,  was  unconstitutional.  The  Twelve 
Tables  also  prescribed  that  no  citizen's  caput,  that 
is  to  say,  his  life  or  his  status  as  a  burgess,  should 
be  placed  in  peril  except  before  the  'greatest 
assembly '  (comitatu  maxima),  by  which  we  must 
understand  the  comitia  centuriata.  As  the  prin- 
cipal State  crime  in  the  earliest  days  was  per- 
duellio,  or  treason  connected  with  war,  it  was 
natural  that  the  assembly  which  comprised  the 
warriors,  past  and  present,  of  the  nation  should 
constitute  the  highest  criminal  court.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  man's  property  could  be  assailed  in 
either  of  the  two  other  assemblies,  the  comitia 
tributa,  which  met  under  the  presidency  of  a 
magistrate  invested  with  the  imperium,  or  the 
concilium  plebis,  which  was  summoned  by  the 
plebeian  tribunes,  and  was  organized,  like  the 
comitia  tributa,  on  the  basis  of  the  local  tribes. 
An  old  statute  permitted  all  magistrates  to  impose 
fines  without  appeal,  up  to  a  definite  amount ; 
beyond  the  limit,  one  of  the  two  assemblies  had  to 
decide.  No  motion  in  a  criminal  trial  was  con- 
stitutional which  invited  the  citizens  to  combine  a 
personal  punishment  (poena)  with  a  fine  (multa). 

The  inconvenience  of  using  as  courts  of  justice 
the  legislative  assemblies,  at  which  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  citizens  had  the  right  to  be  present, 
was  very  great.  The  criminal  trial,  for  the  more 
important  offences,  required  four  meetings  at 
stated  intervals  before  the  final  verdict  could  be 
given ;  but  it  may  be  inferred  from  a  line  in 
Plautus,  which  describes  the  burgesses  as  making 
a  pastime  of  their  duties  as  judges  (Captivi,  475), 
that  there  was  little  ceremony  about  cases  of  less 
consequence.  All  acts  of  assemblies  were  in 
theory  subject  to  the  elaborate  rules  of  veto  on 
which  the  whole  Republican  government  was 
based  ;  but  custom  seems  to  have  restricted  within 
narrow  bounds  their  application  to  criminal  affairs. 
The  tribunes  of  the  plebs  acquired  a  prominent 
position  as  prosecutors  for  high  crimes  and  mis- 
demeanours, though  at  Rome  no  burgess  was  ever 
in  theory  debarred  from  entering  on  a  criminal 
prosecution,  unless  he  had  forfeited  the  right  by 
some  misconduct    of   his    own.      The    difficulties 


attendant  on  the  comitial  system  led  to  a  new 
arrangement,  and  in  149  B.C.  the  epoch-making 
lex  Calpurnia  repetundarum  established  a  special 
court  (quwstio),  with  delegated  authority  to  try 
governors  who  were  charged  with  robbing  the  pro- 
vincial subjects  of  Rome.  As  has  been  stated 
above,  Sulla  placed  all  recognized  crimes  under  the 
sway  of  such  standing  courts,  and,  though  recourse 
to  the  more  cumbrous  process  before  the  comitia, 
was  still  possible,  it  was  rarely  attempted.  The 
quozstiones  were  exempted  by  law  from  the  opera- 
tion of  the  magistrates'  veto  (inter -cessio).  Occa- 
sionally temporary  courts  were  established  to  deal 
with  particular  offences.  In  this  way  the  men 
who  had  trafficked  with  Jugurtha  were  punished, 
and  Clodius  was  tried  and  acquitted  by  special 
judges.  The  jurors  were  originally  drawn  from 
the  Senate,  for  which  Gaius  Gracchus  substituted 
the  equestrian  order.  Sulla  reinstated  the  Sena- 
tors, but  after  70  B.C.  the  two  bodies  shared  the 
privilege  with  men  of  a  somewhat  lower  station. 
Both  qualifications  and  procedure  were  varied  from 
time  to  time  by  legislation.  The  quozstiones  con- 
tinued to  exist  till  the  3rd  cent.  A.D. ,  but  the 
parallel  jurisdictions  which  the  Empire  introduced 
continually  impaired  their  authority  until  they 
were  extinguished. 

There  were  modes  of  punishment  which  did  not 
depend  on  an  arraignment  before  a  criminal  tri- 
bunal, properly  so  called.  The  censors  in  the  time 
of  the  Republic  could  penalize  the  citizens  in  many 
ways,  degrading  their  status,  and  even  inflicting 
on  them  pecuniary  loss.  They  were  not  bound  by 
the  criminal  statutes,  and  took  cognizance  of  moral 
and  social  offences  which  were  outside  the'  pur- 
view of  the  laws.  But  succeeding  censors  were 
not  tied  to  the  decisions  of  their  predecessors. 
The  forms  of  civil  law  were  employed  to  vindicate 
some  breaches  of  public  order,  and  also  to  provide 
redress  for  certain  forms  of  fraud  which  could  not 
be  adequately  punished  by  exactions  in  money. 
Not  only  in  Rome,  but  in  every  municipal  com- 
munity, there  were  fines  which  were  recoverable 
by  civil  process,  on  the  public  behalf.  In  some 
private  suits,  the  defendant,  if  condemned,  incurred 
additional  penalties  which  were  not  pecuniary. 
The  judgment  inflicted  on  him  a  stigma  (ignominia 
or  infamia)  which  impaired  the  value  of  his  citizen- 
ship and  left  him  under  many  disqualifications  for 
public  life.  The  circumstances  were  such  that  the 
losing  litigant  was  held  to  have  been  specially 
bound  to  honourable  action,  as  when  one  partner 
in  business  had  cheated  another,  or  a  guardian 
defrauded  his  ward.  Theft,  when  practised  by  one 
citizen  against  another,  without  violence,  was 
technically  not  a  crime,  but  condemnation  in  a 
suit  for  damages  in  pursuance  of  theft  carried 
ignominy  with  it.  The  same  stigma  rested  ipso 
facto  upon  men  engaged  in  occupations  regarded 
as  degrading,  that  of  an  actor,  for  instance,  or  a 
public  auctioneer  (prmco),  or  a  gladiator. 

Roman  jurisdiction  over  offences  was  exercised 
at  first  only  as  far  as  the  Romanus  ager  extended, 
that  is  to  say,  in  the  regions  of  Italy  possessed  of 
burgess  rights.  Outside  this  pale  foreign  law  pre- 
vailed. After  the  Social  War  (90-89  B.C.),  Italy 
was  parcelled  out  among  Roman  municipalities, 
and  there  had  to  be  a  division  between  the  local 
jurisdiction  and  the  central  courts  in  Rome. 
Little  is  known  of  the  principles  on  which  the 
discrimination  was  based,  but  we  read  with  some 
surprise  that  the  statute  of  Sulla  relating  to 
murder  restricted  the  court  at  the  capital  to  cases 
arising  in  Rome.  Before  the  end  of  the  Repub- 
lican period,  the  rule  was  established  that  a  Roman 
citizen  outside  Italy  could  claim  to  be  tried  in 
Italy  for  any  serious  offence,  and  in  the  provinces 
the  authority  of  the  provincial  governor  in  matters 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Roman) 


299 


of  jurisdiction  tended  perpetually  to  encroach  upon 
the  autonomy  of  the  municipalities  and  peoples. 
As  is  well  known,  the  Roman  government  granted 
special  privileges  to  the  Jewish  communities. 

TVie  advent  of  the  Empire  brought  about  a  great 
transformation  in  the  criminal  law  of  Rome,  as  in 
all  other  parts  of  Roman  polity.  The  paramount 
authority  of  the  Emperor,  and,  in  particular,  his 
power  of  pardoning,  led  ultimately  to  a  complete 
recasting  of  criminal  procedure  both  in  Rome  and 
outside  it.  At  Rome  new  officials,  especially  the 
prcefectus  urbi  and  the  prwfectus  prcetorio,  gradu- 
ally acquired  a  large  jurisdiction  ;  and,  in  the  end, 
practically  all  important  charges  came  to  be  tried 
by  officers  who  were  Imperial  nominees.  As 
the  world  became  Romanized,  local  diversities 
in  privilege  disappeared,  until  the  celebrated 
decree  of  Caracalla  was  passed  (A.D.  212),  which 
conferred  the  franchise  on  the  whole  Empire,  and 
led  to  uniform,  or  nearly  uniform,  legal  practice 
all  over  the  Roman  dominions.  In  the  early  days 
of  the  Empire  every  citizen  had  a  right  of  appeal 
to  the  Emperor,  as  is  exemplified  by  the  case  of 
St.  Paul  (Ac  2512),  but  by  the  3rd  cent,  each  pro- 
vincial governor  received  from  the  Emperor  the 
'  right  of  the  sword '  ( ius  gladii),  which  enabled 
him  to  dispose  of  the  lives  of  provincial  citizens, 
except  in  the  case  of  Roman  senators  and  members 
of  the  municipal  senates  (decuriones).  After  the 
accession  of  Augustus  to  power,  the  Roman  Senate 
became  a  high  court  of  justice,  trying  for  the  most 
part  senators  who  were  charged  with  the  more 
serious  crimes.  But,  just  as  the  qucestiones  were 
ultimately  destroyed  by  the  dominance  of  the 
Emperor,  so  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Senate  was 
reduced  to  municipal  proportions  under  the  mon- 
archy established  by  Diocletian  and  Constantine. 

As  in  Italy,  so  in  the  provinces,  the  extent  of 
local  autonomy  possessed  by  the  different  cities 
and  peoples  who  were  subject  to  Rome  varied 
greatly  while  the  great  process  of  assimilation 
was  being  carried  out.  The  tendency,  however, 
to  increase  the  authority  of  the  Roman  governors 
was  strong  from  the  first,  and  in  the  end  nothing 
but  a  limited  control  in  matters  of  police,  and  in 
other  minor  affairs,  was  left  to  the  municipal 
courts,  Italy  being  placed  in  this  respect  on  the 
same  footing  as  the  provinces.  The  history  of 
police  jurisdiction,  at  all  periods  of  Roman  history, 
is  obscure.  During  the  Republican  period,  citizens 
of  the  criminal  class  at  Rome  seem  to  have  been 
dealt  with  severely,  little  regard  being  paid  to 
their  right  of  appeal.  Indeed,  the  value  of  the 
provocatio  greatly  depended  on  the  willingness  of 
the  magistrates — in  trie  last  resort,  of  the  tribunes 
— to  secure  it  to  the  burgess,  while  to  the  red- 
handed  assassin  or  the  thief  taken  in  the  act  the 
leges  Valerice  and  Porciie  were  of  little  avail. 

The  nature  of  the  punishments  inflicted  by  the 
Roman  State  varied  greatly  in  the  course  of  its 
history.  We  can  clearly  discern  a  time  when  the 
community,  if  it  interfered  at  all,  inflicted  the 
penalty  of  death  and  no  other.  Under  the  system 
of  trial  before  the  comitia,  this  was  the  only 
punishment  which  the  chief  assembly,  the  comitia 
centuriata,  could  assign.  But  the  custom  was 
early  established  whereby  the  culprit,  before  the 
final  verdict  was  given,  could  shake  the  dust  of  his 
country  from  oft'  his  feet  and  go  into  exile.  In 
this  case,  at  the  final  hearing  the  plea  was  put  in 
that  '  he  had  changed  his  soil  with  a  view  to  exile ' 
(solumvertissc  exilii  causa),  whereupon  the  assembly 
passed  a  resolution  known  as  interdictio  aqua  et 
igni  (in  the  full  form  tecto  was  added),  refusing 
the  offender  (now  no  longer  a  Roman)  the  right  to 
receive  the  chief  necessaries  of  life — shelter,  water, 
and  fire — within  Roman  territory,  as  technically 
defined  by  the  phrase  Eomanus  ager,  which  for 


this  purpose  was  never  deemed  to  extend  beyond 
Italy.  The  qucestiones,  in  the  case  of  the  more 
serious  offences,  followed  the  earlier  practice  of  the 
centuries.  Exile  was  such  a  common  incident  in 
the  early  civic  community  that  many  treaties  made 
between  Rome  and  other  States  included  a  clause 
binding  the  contracting  parties  to  give  harbourage 
to  outlaws.  Until  the  time  of  the  Social  War, 
which  led  to  the  enfranchisement  of  Italy,  a 
Roman  could  find  a  refuge  no  further  away  than 
Tibur  (Tivoli) ;  but  Milo,  condemned  for  the  murder 
of  Clodius  in  52  B.C.,  had  to  place  himself  beyond 
the  bounds  of  the  peninsula,  at  Massilia.  Aliens 
within  the  liomanus  ager  could  be  warned  to  quit 
it  by  the  magistrates,  unless  international  agree- 
ment stood  in  the  way.  This  form  of  removal 
was  called  relcgatio.  But  after  the  Hannibalic 
War  the  government  readily  disregarded  treaty 
obligation,  and  the  repeated  indiscriminate  ex- 
pulsion from  Rome  of  Latins  and  other  Italian 
allies  did  much  to  bring  on  the  great  Social  War. 
This  form  of  banishment  was  extended  to  Roman 
citizens  in  the  Imperial  period.  The  relegatus 
was  merely  ordered  to  live  in  a  particular  place 
during  the  Emperor's  pleasure.  This  was  the  only 
restriction  on  the  person's  privileges  as  a  citizen, 
and  Ovid,  banished  to  Tomi,  was  careful  to  insist 
that  he  was  only  relegatus,  not  exul. 

Cicero  laid  it  down  in  the  year  66  B.C.  (pro  Cwc. 
§101)  that  exilium  was  not  a  punishment  known 
to  Roman  law,  but  a  means  of  escape  from  punish- 
ment ;  yet  he  himself  broke  through  this  technical 
principle  three  years  later,  when,  as  consul,  he 
passed  a  law  to  check  public  bribery.  Thereafter 
exilium  was  freely  used  as  a  penalty,  and  new 
forms  of  it  were  devised  in  the  Imperial  age.  The 
old  interdictio  aqua  et  igni  tended  to  fall  out  of 
use,  and  for  it  was  substituted  the  deportatio  in 
insularn,  rendered  familiar  to  us  by  Tacitus  and 
Juvenal,  who  describe  the  islets  of  the  jEgean  as 
crammed  with  exiles. 

The  death  penalty,  except  in  the  military  sphere, 
was,  as  we  have  seen,  hardly  ever  exacted  in  the 
Republican  age,  but  in  the  more  important  cases 
it  could  not  be  so  escaped  under  the  Empire. 
Probably  nothing  else  so  fostered  the  bitterness 
entertained  by  the  nobles  against  the  Imperial 
system  on  its  first  institution.  Yet  the  infliction 
of  death  was  exceptional  in  the  first  two  centuries, 
and  was  confined  chiefly  to  the  more  important 
crimes  which  came  before  the  Senate  and  the 
Emperor.  Both  these  authorities  were,  practi- 
cally, law-making  powers,  and  were  not  bound  by 
statute,  as  were  the  regular  courts.  From  the 
accession  of  the  Severi  (A.D.  193),  capital  punish- 
ment became  more  and  more  common,  and  the 
number  of  offences  to  which  it  was  allotted  was 
continually  increased.  In  the  end  not  only  treason 
and  murder,  but  arson,  magic,  coining,  kidnapping, 
aggravated  violence,  and  a  number  of  other  wrong- 
ful acts  might  be  treated  capitally.  The  forms 
of  execution  were  also  changed  and  extended. 
Originally,  as  a  rule,  the  offender  was  tied  to  a 
stake  and  flogged,  then  released  and  beheaded. 
This  was  symbolized  by  the  bundles  of  rods 
(fasces),  each  containing  an  axe  (securis),  which 
were  carried  by  lictors  in  front  of  a  magistrate 
invested  with  the  unimpaired  imperium.  In  the  city 
the  axe  was  laid  aside.  Beheading  by  the  axe  was 
common  in  the  earlier  Imperial  age  (cf.  Rev  204), 
but  was  forbidden  later,  when  the  sword  was  sub- 
stituted. The  old  formulae  connected  with  the  pass- 
ing of  a  death  sentence  by  the  comitia  centuriata 
show  that,  before  the  time  when  escape  into  exile 
was  permitted,  the  condemned  criminal  was  some- 
times flogged  and  crucified.  The  practice  was 
revived  by  the  Empire,  'according  to  the  custom 
of  our  ancestors'  (more  maiorum),  as  the  saying 


300 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Teutonic  and  Slavic) 


went.  During  the  main  part  of  the  Republican 
period,  crucifixion  was  restricted  to  slaves,  except 
in  rare  instances,  such  as  the  case  of  men  con- 
victed of  misconduct  with  Vestals.  A  quaint 
early  method  of  disposing  of  one  who  had  slain 
a  near  kinsman  (parricida)  was  to  sew  him  up  in 
a  sack  with  a  cock,  an  ape,  and  a  serpent,  and 
then  to  drown  him.  The  Vestal  was  walled,  up, 
and  died  of  starvation.  In  both  these  cases  the 
sentence  had  originally  a  domestic  character,  and 
we  have  in  them  strong  evidence  of  the  primitive 
objection  to  the  shedding  of  blood  within  the 
domestic  circle.  The  Vestals  were  the  daughters 
of  the  great  State  family,  and  were  condemned  by 
the  Pontifex  Maximus,  who  stood  to  them  in  the 
relation  of  paterfamilias.  Something  of  a  religious 
character  attached  to  the  spilling  of  the  criminal's 
blood  by  the  community.  But  the  gods  of  the 
family  could  receive  no  such  offering.  Later, 
when  the  paterfamilias  executed  a  member  of 
his  family,  he  was  regarded  as  the  deputy  of  the 
magistrate.  The  cross  was  used  against  free  men 
without  scruple  by  the  Imperial  administrators, 
until  its  employment  was  abolished  by  Constan- 
tine  on  religious  grounds.  The  equally  cruel  death 
by  burning  was  also  familiar  to  the  Empire.  It 
was  applied,  by  a  crude  sort  of  homoeopathic  re- 
taliation, in  the  age  of  the  Twelve  Tables,  to  the 
citizen  guilty  of  arson,  and,  later,  it  was  occasion- 
ally a  form  of  vengeance  for  military  crime.  The 
killing  by  fire  of  the  Christian  martyrs  was  techni- 
cally a  consequence  of  treason.  Before  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  Empire,  the  exposure  of  offenders 
to  death  in  the  arena,  by  wild  beasts,  was  rare, 
though  we  hear  of  it  as  inflicted  on  slaves,  deserters, 
or  prisoners  of  war.  But  later  it  became  one  of 
the  commonest  forms  of  execution,  and  it  lasted 
into  the  Christian  period,  being  still  in  use  in  the 
time  of  Justinian.  Malefactors  who  were  executed 
in  prison,  like  the  Catilinarian  conspirators,  were 
usually  strangled  by  the  carnifex,  or  public  execu- 
tioner, under  orders  from  the  city  commissioners 
of  police,  the  tresviri  capitales.  We  hear  also,  in 
Republican  Rome,  of  wrongdoers  being  hurled  from 
the  Tarpeian  rock  on  the  Capitoline  hill ;  and  the 
same  thing  happened  occasionally  later,  by  order 
of  the  Senate ;  while  the  Twelve  Tables  prescribed 
this  form  of  punishment  for  bearing  false  witness. 
The  application  of  it  in  the  age  of  the  Empire 
seems  to  have  been  restricted  to  no  particular 
offences,  and  to  have  been  irregular.  Penal  servi- 
tude was  a  novelty  introduced  by  the  Empire. 
Criminals  were  often  condemned  to  work  in  the 
mines,  which  were  mostly  the  property  of  the 
government,  or  to  do  other  menial  services,  some- 
times in  chains,  slaves  and  the  lowest  class  of 
freemen  chiefly  being  exposed  to  this  kind  of 
suffering.  Another  kind  of  penal  slavery  was 
enforced  enlistment  among  the  gladiators.  While 
the  Republic  lasted,  citizen  rights  were  completely 
lost  only  as  a  secondary  consequence  of  condemna- 
tion for  serious  wrongdoing,  but  such  loss  was 
later  on  bound  up  directly  with  deportatio  and  the 
more  severe  forms  of  penal  servitude.  In  all  ages, 
some  particular  privileges  of  the  citizen  might  be 
taken  away  while  others  were  left.  Imprisonment 
was  not  regularly  inflicted  on  criminals  either  by 
the  early  or  by  the  later  Roman  law.  Incarcera- 
tion was  temporary,  for  purposes  of  inquiry,  or 
for  safe  custody,  till  a  sentence  was  carried  out, 
although,  on  the  other  hand,  the  condemned  debtor 
could  be  held  in  bondage  by  his  creditor.  Bodily 
chastisements  were  seldom  imposed  in  the  Re- 
publican epoch,  excepting  in  the  camp,  where 
mutilation  and  scourging  occurred,  until  the  latter 
was  forbidden  by  a  lex  Portia.  In  the  2nd  cent. 
B.C.  earlier  leges  Portia;  had  protected  citizens  in 
their  civil  capacity  against  stripes.     Yet  we  know 


that  St.  Paul  suffered  the  punishment  (2  Co  ll25) 
though  he  was  '  born  free  (Ac  2228).  The  so- 
called  lex  talionis — '  an  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth 
for  a  tooth ' — seems  to  have  been  sanctioned,  prob- 
ably with  an  order  of  a  court,  by  the  Twelve 
Tables.  Under  the  absolute  monarchy,  after  Dio- 
cletian came  to  the  throne,  mutilation  of  various 
kinds  was  permitted  for  a  number  of  offences,  and 
we  often  hear  that  Christian  martyrs  were  sub- 
jected to  it,  and  so,  a  little  later,  were  heretics 
and  worshippers  of  the  old  gods.  The  sub- 
jection of  free  men  to  torture  during  judicial 
inquiry  crept  in  soon  after  the  foundation  of  the 
Empire,  and  in  the  end  became  regular  in  certain 
cases. 

As  has  been  mentioned  above,  public  fines  were 
in  early  days  partly  inflicted  by  the  magistrates 
without  appeal,  partly  ordered  by  the  comitia  or 
qumstio  after  appeal,  and  partly  recoverable  by 
civil  process.  Although  the  legislation  which 
ensued  on  the  fall  of  the  Decemvirs  rendered  it 
illegal  for  a  prosecutor  to  propose  a  personal 
penalty  along  with  a  pecuniary  fine,  yet  in  cases 
of  perduellio  the  condemned  man's  property  was 
forfeited  to  the  exchequer.  When  the  qumstio 
was  substituted  for  the  comitial  trial,  this  penalty 
ceased.  The  confiscation  of  Cicero's  property  was 
by  special  legislative  act,  and  was  irregular,  but 
Caesar  introduced  forfeiture  for  aggravated  murder 
(parricidium),  and  Augustus  for  treason  (maiestas) ; 
and,  later,  it  usually  followed  upon  relegatio  and 
deportatio.  In  the  case  of  other  offences  there 
was,  under  the  Empire,  as  a  rule,  partial  confisca- 
tion. The  oppressive  regulations  connected  with 
the  Imperial  fiscus,  and  the  lex  Papia  Poppma, 
which  penalized  celibacy,  led  to  frequent  and 
extensive  deprivations  of  property. 

It  only  remains  to  note  that,  while  the  Republic, 
in  theory  at  least,  treated  all  citizens  as  equal  before 
the  criminal  law,  the  later  Empire  frankly  re- 
spected persons.  Subjects  were  divided  into  two 
classes,  the  '  more  honourable '  (honestiores),  and  the 
'  more  humble '  (humiliores)  or  plebeians  (plebeii). 
The  higher  class  consisted  of  national  and  provin- 
cial senators,  knights  (equites),  veteran  soldiers, 
and  certain  grades  of  Imperial  officials.  These 
were  exempt  from  crucifixion,  from  death  in  the 
arena,  from  penal  servitude,  and  from  scourging 
and  torture  ;  and  it  was  a  privilege  even  of  a  local 
senator  (decurio),  after  the  2nd  cent.,  that  the 
governor  of  the  province  could  not  put  him  to 
death  without  a  confirmation  of  the  sentence  by 
the  Emperor.  The  regular  Imperial  courts  took  a 
more  extensive  cognizance  of  crimes  committed  by 
slaves  than  was  the  case  earlier. . 

Literature. — The  whole  criminal  law  of  Rome  has  been 
exhaustive!}'  treated  by  T.  Mommsen  in  his  Rom.  Strafrecht 
(Leipzig,  1899),  by  which  earlier  works  on  the  subject  are, 
in  the  main,  superseded.  For  the  judicial  system  of  the  later 
Empire,  with  its  complicated  arrangements,  the  work  of  O. 
Karlowa,  Rom.  Rechtsgesch.  (Leipzig,  1885)  is  most  valuable. 
A  brief  summary  will  be  found  in  the  art.  '  Judicium,'  in  Smith's 
Diet,  of  Antiquities3,  1890-1891;  more  information  in  the  artt. 
1  Judicium '  and  '  Praefectus,'  in  Daremberg-Saglio,  Diet,  des 
antiquites3, 1886 ft.  J.  S.  REID. 

CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Teutonic 
and  Slavic). — I.  General  conceptions  of  crime 
and  punishment. — (1)  Teutonic. — AVe  learn  from 
Tacitus  that  the  practice  of  blood-revenge  was  an 
important  element  in  the  legislation  of  the  Teutonic 
peoples  of  his  time.1  The  word  used  to  express 
the  execution  of  such  revenge  appears  in  nearly  all 
the  Teutonic  languages :  thus,  Goth,  wrikan, 
gawrikan,  A.S.  lor'ecan  (Eng.  'wreak'),  O.H.G. 
rehhan  (Germ,  rachen),  'avenge,'  'persecute,' 
'  punish.'  The  possibility  of  commuting  blood- 
revenge  to  wergeld  and  fine  is  also  mentioned  by 

1  Germ.  21 :  '  Suscipere  tarn  inimicitias  Beu  patris  seu  pro 
pinqui  quam  amicitias  necesse  est.'   ' 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Teutonic  and  Slavic) 


301 


Tacitus,1  and,  as  may  be  inferred  from  the  affinity 
of  A.S.  were,  M.H.G.  were,  'wergeld,'  with  Skr. 
vaira  (cf.  Blood-Feud  [Aryan],  vol.  ii.  p.  724b),  it 
goes  back  to  the  primitive  history  of  the  Teutonic 
race.  From  that  remote  age  come  also  the  terms 
O.H.G.  buoza,  O.Sax.  bota,  O.Norse  bit,  'fine,' 
which  are  cognate  with  Goth,  batiza,  batists, 
'  better,'  '  best,  and  originally  signified  '  repair  of 
damage ';  likewise  Goth,  skuldo,  skula,  'debt,' 
'debtor,' O.H.G.  sculd,  sculda,  A.S.  scyld,  which 
are  all  derived  from  Goth,  skal,  skulum,  '  to  be 
owing,'  and  mean  literally  '  the  obligation  to  pay ' 
(wergeld  or  fine),  and  then,  figuratively,  guilt  in 
general,  whether  before  God  or  man  (cf.  art. 
Aryan  Religion,  vol.  ii.  p.  49b).  For  the  Goth. 
dulgs,  'guilt,'  etc.,  see  below. 

Even  by  the  time  of  Tacitus,  however,  blood- 
revenge  and  its  remission  by  wergeld  and  fine  were 
treated  as  something  more  than  the  private  affairs 
of  the  families  concerned.  The  injured  group, 
instead  of  exacting  blood-revenge,  might,  as  is 
implied  in  Tacitus,2  refer  its  '  cause '  (Sache ; 
Goth,  sakjo,  O.H.G.  sahha,  A.S.  sacu  [Eng. ' sake '], 
O.Norse,  sok)  to  the  public  assembly.  The  com- 
pensation fixed  by  this  tribunal  was  regarded  as  in 
some  sense  a  penalty,  and  the  amount  was  shared 
between  the  injured  party  (or  his  relations)  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  chief  or  (in  republican  States) 
the  community  on  the  other.3 

If  we  regard  the  intervention  of  the  public 
assembly  as  involving  no  more  than  an  attempt  on 
the  part  of  the  tribe  to  bring  about  a  peaceful 
settlement  of  such  feuds  as  were  especially 
dangerous  to  the  common  weal,4  then  the  germs 
of  the  procedure  among  the  Teutons  may  be 
referred  to  a  very  remote  age.  In  the  main, 
however,  the  offences  dealt  with  by  the  assembly 
(Goth.  md\>l,  A.S.  mcefiel,  O.H.G.  mahal,  O.Norse, 
m&l)  in  its  judicial  capacity  would  be,  alike  in 
antiquity  and  in  the  time  of  Tacitus,  those  which 
are  included  under  a  term  common  to  Greek  and 
Sanskrit,  viz.  &yos  =  agas,  expressing  an  idea  that 
must  go  back  to  the  dawn  of  Aryan  history  (cf. 
art.  Aryan  Religion,  vol.  ii.  p.  50a). 

Of  the  primitive  Teutonic  terms  applied  to 
crimes  against  the  community  or  its  tutelary 
deities,  and  punishable  by  the  community,  special 
account  must  be  taken  of  the  following  three : 
(1)  O.Sax.  sundea,  'misdeed,'  O.Fris.  sinne, 
'crime,'  A.S.  synn,  'transgression,'  '  wrong,' 
'enmity'  (Eng.  'sin'),  O.H.G.  suntea,  'sin';  (2) 
Goth,  frawaurhts,  A.S.  forwyrht,  O.Sax.  farwurht, 
'sin,'  O.H.G.  farworaht,  'sinful';  (3)  Goth. 
fairina,  'ground  of  accusation,'  O.Norse  firn, 
A.S.  firen,  O.H.G.  firina,  'crime,'  'sin.'  Of  these 
the  nearest  equivalent  to  Gr.  #7os  =  Skr.  dgas  are 
the  first  series  (O.Sax.  sundea,  etc.,  probably 
related  to  Lat.  sons,  '  guilty '),  and  the  second 
(Goth,  frawaurhts  originally  signifying  '  being 
liable '  ;  cf.  Germ,  eine  Strafe  verivirken,  '  to  incur 
a  punishment ').  In  seeking  to  render  the  primi- 
tive connotation  of  these  words,  we  must,  of 
course,  guard  against  introducing  Christian  ideas  ; 
yet  the  fact  that  the  Church  selected  precisely 
these  terms  to  express  the  conception  of  sin,  i.  e. 
transgression  against  God,  shows  that  even  in 
heathen  antiquity  they  must  have  implied  some 
notion  of  trespass  against  the  gods.  The  third 
series  (Goth,  fairina,  etc.)  has  not  as  yet  been 
satisfactorily  explained.  Some  connect  it  with 
Lat.  per  in  periuro,   perperam,   Gr.   iripav,   and 

1  Germ.  21 :  '  nee  implacabiles  durant  [inimicitiae]  ;  luitur 
enim  etiam  horoicidium  certo  armentorum  ac  pecorum  numero.' 

2  Germ.  12 :  '  Licet  apud  concilium  accusare  quoque  et  dis- 
crimen  capitis  intendere.' 

3  lb. :  '  equorum  pecorumque  numero  convicti  mulctantur  : 
para  mulctae  regi  vel  civitati,  pars  ipsi  qui  vindicatur,  vel 
propinquis  eius,  exsolvitur.' 

4  Germ.  21 : '  periculosiores  sunt  inimicitiae  juxta  libertatem.' 


interpret  it  as  'a  deed  that  goes  beyond,'  i.e. 
beyond  the  crimes  usually  entailing  blood-revenge  ; 
others  connect  it  with  Goth,  ferja,  '  snarer,'  O.H.G. 
fdra,  A.S.  fozr,  '  snaring,'  and  regard  it  as  signify- 
ing an  offence  involving  the  element  of  secrecy. 
It  is  in  any  case  certain,  as  appears  also  from  the 
language  of  Tacitus,1  that  the  Teutons  had  at  an 
early  period  drawn  relatively  fine  distinctions 
within  the  general  idea  of  wrongdoing.  Among 
the  various  groups  of  words  thus  employed  are  the 
forms  with  the  prefixes  mein-  (esp.  O.Norse  mein- 
evSr,  A.S.  man-d\>  [cf.  O.Eng.  '  manswear '],  O.H.G. 
mein-eit  [Germ.  Meineid,  '  perjury '])  and  missa- 
(Goth.  niissade]>s,  O.H.G.  missitdt,  'misdeed'), 
implying  respectively  the  attributes  of  deceitful- 
ness  and  perversity  in  conduct.  This  deepened 
conception  of  wrongdoing  is  also  indicated  by  the 
words  Goth,  skanda  =  O. H. G.  scanta,  'disgrace'; 
O.H.G.  scama,  '  sense  of  shame,' and  O.H.G.  lastar, 
O.Norse  lostr,  'error,'  'vice,'  'disgrace,'  from 
lahan,  'to  blame'  (cf.  also  O.Irish  locht,  'error'). 

The  primitive  Teutonic  word  for  'punishment' 
is  found  in  the  series:  O.Norse  viti,  A.S.  wite 
(M.  Eng.  and  Scots  wite),  O.H.G.  wizzi ;  it  is 
related  to  Goth,  fraweitan,  'avenge,'  O.H.G. 
wizan,  'punish,'  and far-wizan,  'punish,'  'banish,' 
and,  as  connected  with  the  root  vid  (Lat.  video), 
seems  to  be  equivalent  to  the  Lat.  animadvertere 
in  aliquem,    '  to  proceed  against  one.'    A   form 

Seculiar  to  the  Western  Teutonic  dialects  is 
>.H.G.  haramscara,  A.S.  hearmsceare,  i.e.  some- 
thing imposed  as  a  disgrace  (O.H.G.  haram,  A.S. 
hearm=  O.Slav,  sramu,  Russ.  soromu,  'disgrace'). 
The  O.H.G.  anton,  anadon,  'punish,'  '  blame  '  (cf. 
O.H.G.  anto,  anado,  'indictable  offence')  is  ex- 
clusively German,  as  are  also  the  much  later  and 
still  etymologically  obscure  words  M.H.G.  strafe, 
'  punishment,  and  veime,  'vehme.' 

(2)  Slavic. — Turning  next  to  the  Slavs,  we  note 
that,  apart  from  the  treaties  of  Prince  Oleg  (A.D. 
912 ;  Jirecek,  no.  1)  and  Prince  Igor  (A.D.  945  ; 
Jirecek,  no.  2)  with  the  Greeks,  the  earliest 
Russian  document  of  a  legal  character  is  the 
collection  of  ancient  prescriptive  laws,  decrees  of 
princes,  and  Christian  -  Byzantine  enactments, 
known  as  the  Russkaja  Pravda.  This  has  been 
handed  down  in  two  forms,  a  shorter  and  a  longer, 
and  its  original  draft  is  attributed  to  Jaroslav 
(1019-54),  by  whose  sons  it  was  brought  to  com- 
pletion (Jirecek,  nos.  3  and  4).  We  have,  accord- 
ingly, no  direct  information  regarding  the  legisla- 
tion of  the  earlier  centuries,  and  must  fall  back 
upon  a  posteriori  arguments  and  philological  data. 
From  the  records  of  the  ancient  annalists  we  infer 
that  in  the  period  before  the  migration,  i.e.  in  the 
early  centuries  of  the  Christian  era,  the  social 
fabric  of  the  Slavs  was  of  a  character  which  may 
be  outlined  as  follows.  The  Slavic  people  were  a 
congeries  of  clans  and  tribes,  each  group  resting 
upon  a  basis  of  kinship.2  At  the  head  of  each 
group  stood  the  '  elders'  (stareSina),  who  are  called 
zupani  (from  iupa,  '  domicile ')  by  some  foreign 
writers,3  and  pr)yes  by  others.4  In  the  early 
centuries  of  our  era  the  Slavs  had  borrowed  their 
word  kUnezi,  'prince,'  from  the  Teutons  (O.H.G. 
kuning,  'king,  etc.).  The  form  of  government 
was  purely  democratic,  and  the  decision  of  all 
questions  rested  with  the  public  assembly.6 

1  Germ.  12  :  '  Distinctio  poenarum  ex  delicto  .  .  .  Diversitas 
supplicii  illuc  respicit,  tamquam  scelera  ostendi  oporteat,  dum 
pxmiuntur,  Jlagitia  abscondi.' 

2  Nestor,  Chronicle,  xii. :  '  They  lived  each  with  his  kindred 
(rodu),  and  upon  his  own  territory,  every  one  ruling  over  his 
own  kindred.' 

3  Constantinus  Porphyrogenitus,  cap.  29 :  '  Principes  hi  populi 
habent  nullos  praeter  zupanos,  senes,  seniores,  maiores  natu.' 

4  Maurikios,  Ars  militaris.  xii.  (ed.  Scheffer,  Upsala,  1664, 
p.  281)  :  7roAAoi  pir/es  (Cat  a.<rvfJ.-l>uvtt}<;  ex0VT€*  TP&S  oAAtJAoi/9. 

5  Procopius,  de  Bello  Gothico,  iii.  14  :  to.  yap  edvrj  tovto, 
5,K\aPrii>oi  t€  xal  "ApTcu,  oiiK  apxovrat  Trpbs  avSpbs  evos,  aAA'  C* 


302 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Teutonic  and  Slavic) 


As  among  the  Germans,  the  legal  relation  of 
the  various  clans  to  one  another  was  based  upon 
the  laws  of  blood-revenge,  of  which  the  primitive 
Slavic  designations  are  found  in  O.Slav,  misti, 
Kuss.  mesti,  '  revenge,'  and  O.Kuss.  vrazida,  Pol. 
wroZda,  etc.,  lit.  'enmity.'  That  the  practice  of 
blood-revenge  persisted  among  the  Slavic  peoples 
until  the  dawn  of  historical  tradition,  and  among 
the  Southern  Slavs,  indeed,  until  recent  times,  has 
been  shown  in  Blood-Feud  (Slavonic),  vol.  ii.  p. 
733  ff.  There  is  no  doubt,  moreover,  that  in  very 
ancient  times  the  blood-revenge  could  be  adjusted 
by  means  of  the  wergeld,  and  this  holds  good 
whether  the  Russ.  term  for  wergeld,  viz.  vira,  is 
of  cognate  origin  with  the  above-mentioned  Skr. 
vaira  and  A.S.  were,  or  was  borrowed  from  one  of 
the  Teutonic  dialects.  If  the  latter  alternative  is 
the  right  one,  the  original  Slavic  term  must  be 
looked  for  in  such  words  as  Czech  hlava  (Russ. 
golova,  '  head  '),  Pol.  wrozda,  or  Serv.  krv  (Russ. 
krovi,  '  blood '),  all  of  which  mean  both  '  homicide ' 
and  the  '  compensation '  paid  therefor. 

In  process  of  time  blood-revenge  was  gradually 
abolished,  and  superseded  by  ransom  (Russ. 
vykupu).  The  Busskaja  Pravda,  which  in  its 
older  form  sanctions  blood-revenge  only  in  cases 
of  murder  or  serious  bodily  injury,  and  confines  it 
within  certain  degrees  of  kinship,  brings  us  to  this 
stage,  as  in  other  cases  it  substitutes  for  blood- 
revenge  the  prodaia,  '  compensation,'  '  money- 
payment  for  an  offence,'  lit.  '  sale  '  (of  vengeance  ?). 
The  prodaza  either  fell  to  the  chief  alone,  or  was 
shared  between  him  and  the  injured  party.  That 
for  which  compensation  was  paid  was  usually 
called  za  obidu,  but  it  should  be  noted  that  obida 
is  the  common  term  for  adutla,  and  is  not  limited 
to  its  modern  sense  of  '  insult.'  The  classical 
tongues  were  then  drawn  upon  for  words  to 
express  the  idea  of  compensation  ;  thus  we  find 
Gr.  epitimia,  originally  '  penance  imposed  by  the 
Church,'  then  'compensation  for  any  offence,' 
while  from  the  sphere  of  Latin  culture  comes 
penja  (Lat.  poena). 

The  question  arises,  however,  whether  in  the 
case  of  the  Slavs,  as  in  that  of  the  Teutons,  the 
conceptions  of  crime  and  punishment  in  general 
did  not  spring  from  the  narrower  ground  of  trans- 
gression against  the  community  and  its  tutelary 
deities.  Of  Slavic  terms  for  '  crime '  there  is 
only  one  which  is  represented  in  all  the  various 
dialects,  viz.  O.Slav,  grechu,  'sin,' a  word  etymo- 
logically  obscure  (cf.  Berneker,  Slav.  etym. 
Wbrterb.,  Heidelberg,  1908  ff.,  p.  350 f.).  It  is 
certainly  the  case  that  this  word,  as  used  in  a 
literary  tradition  under  Christian  influence  from 
the  first,  is,  in  general,  practically  equivalent  to 
'  sin  against  God,'  precisely  like  the  O.H.G.  suntea 
and  Goth,  frawaurhts  (see  above) ;  it  always 
signifies  a  transgression  in  the  ecclesiastical  sense, 
while  a  civil  offence  is  called  prestupUnie.  It 
should  be  borne  in  mind,  however,  that,  as  grechil 
is  found  in  all  the  Slavic  dialects,  it  must  go  back 
to  heathen  times ;  and  it  is  natural,  therefore,  to 
see  in  this  word  the  Slavic  (as  in  suntea  or 
frawaurhts  the  Teutonic)  equivalent  of  the  Gr. 
470s  =  Skr.  agas.  And  since,  as  we  saw  above,  all 
matters  were  referred  for  decision  to  the  public 
assembly,  and  as  there  is  also  evidence  for  a 
primitive  Slavic  word  signifying  'tribunal' (O.Slav. 
sadu),  it  will  hardly  be  counted  rash,  the  present 
writer  thinks,  to  assume  that  here  too,  as  among 
the  Teutons  (for  the1  concilium,  see  above),  and 
also  the  Macedonians,1  the  tribal  assembly  was  a 

Sr]iJ.OKparCa  iie  iraAaioO  jSioreuovtn'  Kal  Sta  touto  auTots  rittv 
npaynd-tov  aei  rd  re  ^vfupopa  Kal  ra  SvcrieoAa  e?  kolvov  (public 
assembly)  dyerai. 

1  Curtius,  VI.  viii.  25  :  'De  capitalibus  rebus  vetusto  Mace- 
donuni  modo  inquirebat  exercitus,  in  pace  erat  vulgi.'  Of., 
further,  O.  Hoffmann,  Die  Makedonen  (Gottingen,  1906),  p.  21. 


court  which  might  deal  inter  alia  with  offences 
(grechu)  against  the  community  and  its  gods. 
That  such  infringements  of  the  public  interest  are 
not  mentioned  in  the  Russkaja  Pravda  is  explained 
by  the  fact  that  the  latter  is  not,  and  does  not 
purport  to  be,  a  complete  legislative  code. 

In  the  Slavic  languages  there  are  two  distinct 
groups  of  words  signifying  '  punish,' '  punishment ': 
(1)  the  derivatives  of  a  root  /car-  (O.Slav,  and 
O.Russ.  Icarati,  Czech  ledrati,  Pol.  karat, 'punish') ; 
and  (2)  those  of  a  root  kaz-  (cf.  Russ.  nakazdti, 
'  punish,'  kazni,  '  heavy  civil  penalty,'  kdzniti, 
'  punish,'  Czech  kdzati,  kazniti,  etc.).  The  funda- 
mental meaning  of  the  latter  seems  to  be  some- 
thing like  '  banish,'  perhaps  in  the  sense  of  Gr.  SU-q, 
Selicvvui.,  'law,'  'punish'  (cf.  Russ.  pokazdti).  The 
first-named  group  goes  back  to  a  primitive  form 
*  kara,  which  is  found,  with  or  without  deriv- 
atives, in  many  Aryan  languages,  and  means 
'army'  and  'war'  (O.Pers.  kara,  'army,'  Lith. 
kdras,  kari,  'war'  and  'army,'  Goth,  harjis, 
O.Pruss.  karjis,  Irish  cuire,  'army').  If  this 
series  he  correctly  interpreted  as  originally  denot- 
ing 'the  national  army  drawn  up  for  war' 
(O.  Schrader,  Reallexicon,  Strassburg,  1901,  p. 
349  f.),  one  is  tempted  to  take  the  further  step  of 
connecting  karati,  '  punish,'  with  the  judicial 
functions  which  we  have  conjecturally  ascribed 
to  the  Slavic  '  assembly '  (cf .  also  nappy  =  ^fila  in 
Hesychius). 

2.  Particular  crimes  and  punishments. — As  it 
cannot  be  expected  that  the  present  article  should 
deal  with  the  entire  criminal  law  of  the  ancient 
Teutons  and  Slavs,  the  writer  proposes  simply  to 
emphasize  such  aspects  of  the  subject  as  may  be 
judged  of  special  importance  for  the  readers  of 
this  work. 

A.  CRIMES. — Here  it  will  be  the  writer's  special 
object  to  determine  which  of  these  first  developed 
a  definite  terminology.  There  is,  unfortunately, 
a  great  lack  of  preparatory  works  in  this  field, 
particularly  on  the  Slavic  side,1  so  that  only  a  few 
of  the  more  important  points  can  be  referred  to. 

We  saw  above  that  the  Teutonic  and  Slavic 
races  from  the  very  first  drew  a  distinction  between 
those  offences  which,  as  directed  against  the 
community,  had  to  be  punished  by  the  community 
(i.e.  the  public  assembly,  and  subsequently  the 
State),  and  those  which,  bearing  merely  on  the 
individual,  were  subject  to  the  laws  of  blood- 
revenge  or  the  private  feud.  Even  at  a  very  early 
period,  however,  we  find  that  penal  offences  coming 
under  the  latter  category,  such  as  murder  or  flag- 
rant theft,  were  really  assigned  to  the  former,  so 
that  it  is  impossible  to  make  the  distinction  in 
question  the  principle  of  an  exact  classification  of 
crimes.  But  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  the  species 
of  crime  referred  to  by  Tacitus  (Germ.  12),  viz. 
cowardice  in  war  and  treason,2  was  always  clearly 
discriminated  from  that  which  embraced  personal 
assault,  ordinary  homicide,  robbery,  etc.  The 
original  Teutonic  word  for  '  cowardice '  would 
seem  to  be  found  in  the  O.Norse  argr,  A.S.  earh, 
Lombard  arga  (a  term  of  abuse),  O  H.G.  arag, 
'  cowardly '  ;  while  an  old  term  for  '  treason ' 
appears  in  O.H.G.  herisliz,  'desertion  from  the 
army.'  An  O.Russ.  term  for  a  related  crime  was 
perevetH  (cf.  Russ.  otvetu,  'answer,'  O.Russ.  vece, 
'public  assembly,'  O.Pruss.  waitiat,  'speak'), 
'  secret  treasonable  communication  of  intelligence,' 
for  which,  of  course,  as  for  the  crimes  mentioned 
by  Tacitus,  the  penalty  was  death  (Pskovskaja 
Gramota,  Jirecek,  ix.  14). 

We  shall,  therefore,  treat  of  the  various  offences, 
apart  from  those  against  honour,  under  the  follow- 

1  For  the  Teutons,  Grimrn,  Deutsche  Recht&altertilmer.  p. 
623  ff.,  is  still  the  best  work  available. 

2  '  Ignavi  et  imbelles,  proditores  et  tranBfugae 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Teutonic  and  Slavic) 


303 


ing  heads  :  (1)  crimes  against  the  person,  (2)  crimes 
against  property,  and  (3)  crimes  against  morality. 

(1)  Crimes  against  the  person. — It  is  creditable 
to  the  Teutons  that  they  discriminated  between 
killing  in  general  and  murder,  i.e.  (according  to 
the  ancient  point  of  view)  the  wilful  and  secret 
(or,  at  least,  stealthy)  taking  of  human  life — a 
crime  denoted  by  the  following  series  of  words : 
Goth.  maur]>r,  O.Norse  mortS,  O.H.G.  mord,  cog- 
nate with  the  Lat.  mors,  mortis,  'death,'  though  it 
should  be  observed  that  Ulfilas  (Mk  15')  uses  the 
term  in  connexion  with  Barabbas,  who  is  said  to 
have  committed  a  maurpr  (<p6vos)  in  the  insurrec- 
tion {iv  t%  ardfrei),  and,  therefore,  not  in  secret. 
The  idea  of  secrecy  receives  its  first  distinct  ex- 
pression in  the  exclusively  German  forms  com- 
pounded with  muhh,  viz.  muhhilswert,  muhhildri, 
meuchelmord ;  cf.  O.Irish  formuigthe,  '  abscon- 
ditus.'  A  somewhat  different  shade  of  meaning 
appears  in  the  Slav,  razboj,  which  is  the  usual  word 
for  '  murder '  in  several  of  the  Slavic  languages, 
and  which  in  Old  Russian  means  both  'highway 
robbery'  and  'ambuscade.'  According  to  the 
Russkaja  Pravda  (Jirecek,  iv.  4  and  5),  one  who 
kills  another  openly  in  a  quarrel  or  at  a  feast  may 
be  absolved  by  money,  but,  '  if  one  sets  out  to 
commit  razboj  without  any  quarrel,  the  people 
shall  not  pay  a  fine  for  the  razbojnikU,  but  shall 
surrender  him  absolutely,  with  wife  and  child,  to 
the potoku  and  the  razgrablenie'  (for  these  punish- 
ments, see  below).  Of  the  numerous  Teutonic 
terms  for  the  infliction  of  bodily  injury  only  the 
Frisian  dolch  need  be  referred  to  here.  In  the  Lex 
Frisionum  it  is  the  most  comprehensive  term  for 
wounding  of  all  kinds.  A  familiar  phrase  is  dath 
und  dolch,  '  killing  and  wounding ' ;  ef.  also  the 
O.H.G.  noch  tolk  noch  tdt.  Dolch  comes  from 
Goth,  dulgs,  'debt,'  related  to  O.Slav,  dlugu, 
'debt,'  and  O.Irish  dliged,  'duty,'  'law,'  'right.' 
There  was  thus  a  term  signifying  '  debt,'  '  obliga- 
tion,' common  to  all  the  languages  of  Northern 
Europe,  and  this  acquired  the  special  meaning  of 
'  obligation  to  pay  compensation  for  bodily  injury,' 
and  eventually  that  of  the  '  injury'  itself.  Beyond 
this,  however,  no  rigid  distinction  was  made 
between  homicide  and  wounding,  and  O.Norse 
words  like  vig,  sdr,  and  drep  may  signify  either. 
In  the  Russkaja  Pravda  the  only  difference  is  that 
the  fine  for  homicide  is  termed  vira,  while  that 
for  wounding  is  termed  prodaia  (see  above) : 
'  Should  any  one  strike  with  the  sword,  but  not 
cause  death,  he  shall  pay  [to  the  prince]  three 
grivennicks,  and  to  the  person  injured  one  griven- 
nick,  and  money  for  the  doctor ;  but,  if  he  does 
cause  death,  the  vira  must  be  paid '  (Jirecek,  iv. 
24). 

(2)  Crimes  against  property. — Of  all  crimes  the 
first  to  acquire  a  precise  terminology  was  theft  ; 
this  takes  us  back  to  primitive  Aryan  times — ef . 
Skr.  stend-  and  tayu-,  'thief,'  O.Iran,  tdya-, 
'theft,'  O.Slav,  tati,  O.Irish  taid,  'thief,'  and 
also  Gr.  KKiirTw,  Lat.  clepere,  Goth,  hlifan,  and  Gr. 
rfitbp,  Lat./wr.  A  form  common  to  all  the  Teutonic 
dialects  is  represented  by  Goth,  stilan,  while  all 
the  Slavic  languages  have  terms  corresponding 
to  O.Slav,  krada,  krdsti,  'steal.'  The  fact  that  in 
all  these  languages  the  words  connoting  secrecy 
are  related  to  the  terms  for  '  thief,'  '  theft,'  '  steal ' 
(e.g.  Skr.  stdydt-,  '  secret,' to  stend-;  O.Slav,  taj 
to  tatl ;  O.Pruss.  aukliptas,  'concealed,'  to  Goth. 
hlifan,  etc.)  clearly  shows  that  it  was  the  ele- 
ment of  concealment  which  distinguished  theft 
from  open  robbery  (Goth,  biraubon,  A.S.  riafian, 
O.H.G.  roubon  ;  and  O.Slav,  grabla,  Russ.  grdbliu, 
Pol.  grabii,  etc. ).  As  robbery,  however,  was  not 
in  primitive  times  counted  dishonourable  (ef. 
Schrader,  Reallex.  s.v.  'Raub'),  and  as,  even  in 
historic   times,   theft  was    often    pnnislied    more 


severely  than  robbery,  it  is  obvious  that  the  ethical 
ideas  of  later  ages  must  have  undergone  a  complete 
transformation.  The  horse-thief  was  punished  with 
signal  severity  by  Teutons  and  Slavs  alike.  It  is 
recorded, e.g.,  in  the  Vita  Ludgeri,  i.  26  (ed.  Broner), 
that  by  order  of  Duke  Wittekind  of  Saxony  a 
horse-thief  was  put  to  death  by  stoning,  while  the 
above-cited  passage  of  the  Pskovskaja  Gramota 
puts  the  horse-thief  (konevoy  tati)  and  the  incen- 
diary (zazigalniku,  cf.  O.Fris.  morthbrond)  on  a 
level  with  the perevitniku  (see  above) :  they  are  all 
liable  to  the  penalty  of  death.  In  the  ancient 
Teutonic  codes  the  general  term  '  theft '  comprises 
a  large  number  of  subordinate  species  with  distinct 
names,  for  which,  so  far  as  the  present  writer  is 
aware,  the  Slavic  codes  furnish  no  equivalents. 
Thus  we  have  O.H.G.  walaroupa,  A.S.  wcelredf, 
'stripping  of  corpses,'  and  O.H.G.  herireita,  etc., 
'  ravaging,'  i.e.  'the  perpetration  of  crime — especi- 
ally robbery — in  bands.  Closely  allied  to  this  is 
Reimsuchung  (O.Fris.  hemseke ;  in  Scots  Law, 
hamesucken),  '  domus  invasio  in  aliquam  familiam,' 
which,  however,  may  be  committed  by  a  single 
person,  and  in  that  case  resembles  the  modern 
Hausfriedensbruch  (Lombard  '  curtis  ruptura,  quod 
est  oberos  facere'). 

(3)  Crimes  against  morality. — In  marked  contrast 
to  the  class  of  crimes  against  property,  the  class 
embracing  what  would  now  be  reckoned  crimes 
against  morality  has  a  singularly  meagre  voca- 
bulary. This  is,  of  course,  explained  by  the  great 
change  that  has  taken  place  in  men's  ideas  regard- 
ing sexual  morality  (see  also  art.  Chastity  [Teut. 
and  Balto-Slav.]) — a  change  for  which,  alike  in 
Teutonic  and  in  Slavic  countries,  the  way  was 
prepared  by  the  Christian  Church.  With  reference, 
first  of  all,  to  incest,  the  Teutonic  family  of 
languages,  so  far  as  the  present  writer  knows,  has 
but  one  specific  term  applicable  to  this  crime,  viz. 
A.S.  sib-leger,  '  lying  {i.e.  cohabitation)  within  the 
family,'  which  points  unmistakably  to  family 
exogamy.  In  Anglo-Saxon  glosses  the  Lat. 
incestum  is  rendered  hcemed,  which,  however, 
means  coitus  simply — lawful  or  unlawful,  or  even 
adulterous.  No  O.Russ.  term  for  'incest'  (modern 
Russ.  krovomcSenie,  'blood-mixing')  is  known  to 
the  writer.  Any  such  term  would,  of  course,  bear 
the  stamp  of  the  Church.  We  find,  for  instance, 
that  the  metropolitan  Johannes  II.  imposed  penance 
upon  marriages  between  persons  as  far  apart  as  the 
fourth  degree.  In  northern  Europe,  however, 
even  in  pre-Christian  times,  marriage  within  the 
family-group  would  doubtless  be  prohibited  on 
economic  grounds,  although  a  moral  repugnance  to 
consanguineous  unions  would  not  then  exist. 

The  crime  of  adultery,  as  was  shown  in  art. 
Chastity  (Teut.  and  Balto-Slav.),  vol.  iii.  pp.  499- 
503,  could  be  committed  only  by  a  wife,  a  married 
man  being  held  culpable  only  in  case  of  intercourse 
with  the  wife  of  another.  The  terms  applied  to 
this  offence  are  of  very  general  connotation ;  e.g. 
O.H.G.  huor,  O.Norse  and  A.S.  hdr,  signify  any 
kind  of  illicit  intercourse;  similarly  O.H.G. 
ubarligida,  '  adulterium.'  A  higher  degree  of 
precision  belongs  to  A.S.  forliges,  'adulteress,' 
lit.  'she  who  lies  amiss.'  The  oldest  Russian 
designations  are  smilinoje,  zastavanie,  liobodejanie, 
etc. — all,  of  course,  of  ecclesiastical  origin.  The 
vernacular  name  is  izmena,  'treason,'  'unfaithful- 
ness.' The  punishment  of  this  offence  among 
the  Russian  peasantry — the  primitive  vyvodu — is 
described  in  art.  Chastity  (Teut.  and  Balto-Slav.), 
vol.  iii.  p.  501  ;  it  is  identical  with  that  inflicted 
by  peasant  criminal  law  upon  the  female  thief. 

Finally,  rape  was  in  all  probability  regarded 
originally  as  a  species  of  robbery — of  the  abduction 
of  women.  In  the  glosses  to  the  Lex  Salica  the 
phrase  per  virtutem  moechari,  '  to  violate  by  force.' 


304 


CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS  (Teutonic  and  Slavic) 


is  rendered  by  thiuuerofen,  theorofa,  '  women- 
stealing';  cf.  also  O.H.G.  nbtzogon,  'to  abduct 
forcibly,'  nbtnumft,  notneman,  A.S.  nydnceme, 
O.Norse  nothtekt  (not  is  lit.  'force').  In  Old 
Russian  the  term  nasilie,  'violence,'  is  also  used 
for  the  crime  of  rape. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  know  the  Teutonic 
name  for  the  corpore  infames,  who,  according  to 
Tac.  (Germ.  12),  were  punished  by  being  sub- 
merged in  a  marsh.  It  seems  probable  that  the 
reference  is  to  sodomy  (O.Norse  sor'Sinn,  stroftinn, 
'  muliebria  passus ').  There  seems  to  be  no  recorded 
evidence  regarding  the  Slavic  practice  in  this 
respect. 

B.  Particular  punishments.— Here  we  dis- 
tinguish (1)  capital  punishment  and  outlawry, 
(2)  corporal  punishment,  and  (3)  abridgment  of 
personal  freedom. 

(1)  Capital  punishment  and  outlawry  (banish- 
ment).— That  the  penalty  of  death,  as  decreed  by 
the  public  assembly,  was  known  to  the  Teutons  is 
shown  by  Tac.  (Germ.  12). 1  The  commonest  form 
of  execution  was  hanging,  and  the  root-word 
denoting  this  penalty  is  common  to  all  the  Teu- 
tonic languages:  Goth,  galga,  O.Norse  galge, 
A.S.  gealga  (Eng.  'gallows'),  O.H.G.  galgo.  In 
ancient  Russia  likewise,  according  to  the  passage 
already  cited  from  the  Pskovskaja  Gramota,  the 
perpetrators  of  more  atrocious  crimes  were  executed 
by  order  of  the  public  assembly  (vece)  or  of  the 
chief,  and  in  this  case  also  resort  was  usually  had 
to  the  gallows  (Sreznevskij,  s.v.  '  Povesenije, 
Povesati  se '). 

Among  the  Teutons,  'outlawry'  (banishment, 
exile),  i.e.  expulsion  from  the  tribe,  was  in  its 
effects  practically  equivalent  to  capital  punish- 
ment. The  most  ancient  word  applied  to  a 
person  so  proscribed  is  retained  in  the  Lex  Salica 
as  wargus,  '  hoc  est  expulsus  de  eodem  pago '  (cf. 
Goth,  gawargjan  ddubau,  '  to  condemn  to  death,' 
O.Norse  vargr,  'wolf  and  '  outlaw,'  A.S.  wearg, 
'  the  malefactor  sentenced  to  the  gallows  or  to 
outlawry,'  etc.).  He  was  altogether  outside  the 
law  (O.Norse  utlagr,  A.S.  utlagh),  and  any  one 
who  met  him  might  kill  him,  and  was,  indeed, 
bound  to  do  so.  This  penalty  was  often  combined 
with  'laying  waste'  (O.H.G.  wuostan) ;  i.e.  the 
members  of  the  judicial  community  assembled 
together  in  order  to  burn  or  demolish  the  criminal's 
house  and  property.  The  term  'outlawry,'  supple- 
mented thus  by  the  idea  of  ravage,  corresponds 
with  the  potoku  or  potoku  and  razgrablenie  of  the 
oldest  Russian  legal  documents.  The  latter  word 
means  '  plundering ' ;  the  former  should  possibly 
be  translated  'expulsion,'  'banishment'  (Russ. 
tociti,  lit.  'to  cause  to  flow,'  teku,  'flow').  The 
penalty  affected  not  only  the  criminal,  but  his  wife 
and  children  also,  and  was  inflicted  for  murder 
with  robbery,  horse-stealing,  arson  (see  above, 
p.  303b,  and  Sreznevskij,  s.v.  'Potoku'),  and 
similar  grave  crimes. 

For  the  special  objects  of  this  article  it  is  a 
question  of  great  importance  whether  the  execu- 
tion of  criminals  among  the  Teutons  was — as  the 
foregoing  observations  regarding  their  concep- 
tions of  crime  suggest — a  religious  ceremony,  i.e. 
whether  at  bottom  it  was  designed  to  operate  like 
a  sacrifice  in  appeasing  the  wrath  of  the  gods.  The 
affirmative  has  the  support  of  such  distinguished 
writers  on  the  history  of  law  as  H.  Brunner 
(Deutsche  Rechtsgeschichte,  i.2)  and  R.  Schroder 
(Lehrb.  d.  deutschen  Rechtsgeschichte1),  though  E. 
Mogk  (ASG  xxvii.  [Leipzig,  1909]  17)  has  recently 
called  in  question  the  practice  of  human  sacrifice 
among  the   Teutons.     In  any  case  there  is  the 

1  '  Proditores  et  transfugas  arboribus  suspendunt,  ignavos  et 
imbelles  et  corpore  infames  coeno  ac  palude,  iniecta  insuper 
crate,  mergunt.' 


evidence  of  a  passage  in  the  Vita  Wulframi1  to 
show  that  among  the  Frisians  executions  were 
performed  at  the  festivals  of  the  gods  (cf.  Miillen- 
hoff,  Deutsche  Altertumskunde,  Berlin,  1870-1900, 
iv.  244).  As  regards  the  Slavic  practice  the 
present  writer  has  no  evidence  to  offer. 

(2)  Corporal  punishment. — Punishments  involv- 
ing mutilation  of  the  body — cutting  off  the  nose  or 
ears,  severing  the  hands  or  feet,  blinding  the  eyes, 
or  even  severe  flogging — in  so  far  as  they  were  not 
simply  preliminary  to  the  death  penalty,  were  in 
all  likelihood  introduced  at  a  relatively  late  period. 
In  primitive  times,  among  Slavs  and  Teutons  alike, 
even  the  infliction  of  bodily  injuries  was  dealt  with 
by  private  revenge,  and  the  practice  survived  till 
the  time  of  the  Russkaja  Pravda  (cf.  Jirecek, 
iii.  2  :  '  or  if  he  has  been  beaten  till  blood  comes  or 
till  he  is  blue,  it  is  not  necessary  for  him — this  man 
— to  seek  an  eye-witness.  ...  If  he  cannot  avenge 
himself  [mistiti],  he  shall  receive  for  the  crime  \za 
obidu  ;  see  above]  three  grivennicks,  but  the  doctor 
[receives]  the  wages ').  Such  vengeance  would,  of 
course,  be  carried  out  according  to  the  principles 
of  the  lex  talionis,  and  cannot,  therefore,  be 
regarded  as  punishment  in  the  technical  sense.  In 
course  of  time  private  revenge  for  wounding  was 
superseded,  both  among  the  Teutons  and  among 
the  Slavs,  and  partly  in  consequence  of  their 
mutual  relations,  by  a  regular  system  of  fines. 

A  more  difficult  question  to  decide  is  when  and 
how  corporal  punishment  found  its  way  into  the 
ancient  codes.  On  the  one  hand,  such  penalties 
were  probably  first  of  all  inflicted  upon  slaves  and 
serfs,  who,  of  course,  could  not  pay  the  regular 
fine.  The  Lex  Frisionum,2  for  instance,  recognizes 
corporal  punishment  only  in  two  cases,  viz.  (a)  as 
merely  antecedent  to  the  penalty  of  death,  for 
those  who  had  been  taken  in  the  act  of  robbing  a 
temple  (cutting  off  the  ears  and  castration),  and  (b) 
as  meted  out  to  a  delinquent  serf  whose  master 
refused  to  pay  the  fine.  Similarly  the  Russkaja 
Pravda  (Jirecek,  iii.  16) :  '  if  a  serf  (cholopU) 
strikes  a  free  man,  but  takes  refuge  in  the  house, 
and  his  master  refuses  to  give  him  up,  then  let 
a[nother]  serf  be  taken,  and  the  master  shall  pay 
twelve  grivenniclcs  for  him.  But  if  afterwards  the 
man  who  was  struck  finds  him,  he  shall  beat  him' 
(da  bijuti  ego).  So  far  as  the  present  writer  knows, 
this  is  the  earliest  record  of  beating  as  a  legal 
penalty  in  Russia.  On  the  other  hand,  the  credit 
of  introducing  corporal  punishment  must  be 
assigned  to  the  clergy,  as  is  proved  with  special 
clearness  in  regard  to  Russia.  In  point  of  fact, 
the  clergy  suffused  the  conception  of  punishment 
with  new  ideas,  such  as,  e.g.,  that  it  amends  the 
evil  will,  deters  others,  and  the  like.  For  the 
attainment  of  these  ends  they  believed — after  the 
example  of  the  Byzantine  legislation,  which  had 
elaborated  this  system  with  great  fullness— that 
such  bodily  penalties  as  blinding,  severance  of 
hands,  etc.  (many  of  them  on  the  Mosaic  principle 
ef  'an  eye  for  an  eye'),  and  flogging  formed  the 
appropriate  means.  Accordingto  Jaroslav's  Ustavit, 
• — the  ecclesiastical  counterpart  to  the  Russkaja 
Pravda, — a  sorceress,,  e.g.,  must  be  punished 
(kazniti)  after  conviction,  and  she  must  further 
pay  a  fine  (penja)  of  six  grivennicks  to  the  metro- 
politan. The  nature  of  the  kazniti  appears  from 
a  warrant  of  the  Russian  metropolitan  Johannes  II. 
(1080-89),  according  to  which  the  officers  shall 
'smartly  chastise'  (jaro  kazniti),  i.e.  flog  her,  'but 

1  '  Mos  erat .  .  .  ut  corpora  hominum  damnatorum  in  suorum 
solemniis  deorurn  .  .  .  saepissime  diversis  litaret  modls : 
quoadam  videlicet  gladiatorum  animadversionibus  interimens, 
alios  patibulis  appendens,  aliis  laqueis  acerbissime  vitam 
extorquens,  praeterea  et  alios  marinorum  sive  aquarum 
fluctibus  submergebat.' 

2  Cf.  R.  His,  Das  Strafrecht  d.  Friesen  im  Mittelalter, 
Leipzig,  1901,  p.  199. 


CRIMINOLOGY 


305 


not  to  death,  nor  cut  oft'  her  limbs.'  It  is  a  well- 
known  fact  that  under  the  power  of  the  clergy,  the 
Czars,  and  the  serf-holders,  flogging  became  the 
recognized  mode  of  punishment  in  Russia,  and  it 
is  curious  to  note  how  a  punishment  so  degrading, 
and,  originally,  quite  unknown,  should  in  time 
come  to  be  practically  a  public  requirement. 

Less  than  a  generation  ago  a  Russian  village  would  furnish  a 
Boene  like  this :  a  sedate  and  well-to-do  peasant,  the  head  of  a 
house  and  the  father  of  a  grown-up  family,  unshrinkingly  lays 
himself  on  the  ground  in  order  to  receive  his  tale  of  lashes,  and 
when  the  business  is  over,  he  trudges  homewards,  conversing 
upon  trifles  with  his  companions  in  punishment  (of  whom  there 
might  be  thirty  on  a  court  day)  and  smoking  cigarettes  (cf. 
Glebu  Uspenskij,  Vlastl  zemli,  1882,  p.  60  fl.).  It  is  also  re- 
corded that  a  Russian  peasant  actually  asked  for  twenty-five 
strokes  of  the  rod,  and  that,  when  he  had  got  them,  he  said  : 
1  Thank  you,  that  did  me  good.  I  was  drunk  yesterday,  fooled 
away  fourteen  roubles— all  I  had— in  the  kabak,  and  ill-used  my 
wife.  I  have  now  got  my  deserts'  (V.  Hehn,  De  moribus 
Ruthenorum,  1892,  p.  214).  Another,  who  had  just  been  beaten 
and  was  asked  why,  answered :  '  For  a  good  reason,  bdtju&ka. 
A  man  is  not  punished  for  trifles  in  our  place.  No  such  thing 
occurs  here — no,  Heaven  forbid  !  We  have  not  a  master  of  that 
kind.  We  have  a  master.  Such  another  master  is  not  to  be 
found  in  all  the  district.'  '  Old  Russia  1 '  comments  Turgeniev, 
who  relates  the  incident  (Zapiskit  1898,  xiii.). 

(3)  Punishment  by  abridgment  of  personal 
freedom. — The  law-breaker  might  have  his  liberty 
restricted  either  by  enslavement  or  by  confine- 
ment. The  former  method  was  resorted  to  at  an 
early  date,  but  for  the  most  part  only  as  the  con- 
comitant or  sequel  of  other  penalties,  and  need 
not,  therefore,  be  further  considered  here.  Im- 
prisonment, on  the  other  hand,  alike  in  the  Teutonic 
and  in  the  Slavic  area,  is  of  relatively  late  origin, 
as  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  Goth,  karkara, 
O.H.G.  charchari,  A.S.  carcern,  are  derived  from 
Lat.  career,  and  the  Russ.  tjurima,  '  prison,'  from 
Germ.  Turm.  In  Russia  the  introduction  of  penalties 
involving  the  abridgment  of  personal  freedom  was 
likewise  due  to  the  influence  of  the  Church.  The 
most  ancient  mode  of  restraint  was  '  putting  in  the 
stocks ' ;  cf.  the  Russ.  koltidka,  denoting  two 
boards  with  a  hole  for  the  foot ;  koloanikii, 
'convict,'  and  Pol.,  Russ.,  and  Little  Russ.  duby, 
'  shackles  for  the  feet,'  from  dubti,  '  oak,' '  oak-log.' 

Literature. — J.  Grimm,  Deutsche  Rechtsaltertiimer ,  Gott- 
ingen,  1828,  v.  ('  Verbrechen,  Bussen,  Strafen ') ;  H.  Brunner, 
Deutsche  Rechtsgesch.  i.2,  Leipzig,  1906 ;  R.  Schroder,  Lehrb.  d. 
deutschen  Rechtsgesch.^,  Leipzig,  1907;  T.  Mommsen,  Zum 
dltesten  Strafrecht  d.  Eulturvotker,  Leipzig,  1905,  containing 
contributions  by  H.  Brunner  and  G.  Roethe  dealing  with 
Teutonic  penal  law  ;  G.  Ewers,  Das  dltestc  Recht  d.  Russen  in 
seiner  geschichtl.  Entwicklung,  Dorpat  and  Hamburg,  1826  ;  H. 
Jirecek,  Svod  zdkonuv  Slovanskych  ('  Collection  of  Slavonian 
LawB  '),  Prague,  1880  ;  V.  Sergejevic,  Sketch  of  a  Hist,  of  Russ. 
Law  [Russian],  St.  Petersburg,  1882 ;  V.  Kljucevskij,  Course 
of  Russian  History  [Russian],  Moscow,  1904  (Lectures  13-15  on 
primitive  Russ.  Law) ;  Encyclopedic  Dictionary  [Russian], 
xxviii.,  St.  Petersburg,  1899  (containing  a  treatise  by  M. 
Dijakonov  on  the  historical  development  of  the  general 
conceptions  of  crime  and  punishment  in  ancient  Russian  law  ; 
and  one  by  V.  Necayev  on  the  criminal  law  of  the  peasantry, 
with  an  ample  bibliography)  ;  J.  J.  Sreznevskij,  Materials  for 
a  Dictionary  of  Old  Russian  [Russian],  St.  Petersburg,  1893  ff. ; 
L.  K.  Goetz,  'Das  russische  Recht,1  Zeitschr.f.  vergleichende 
Rechtsgesch.  xxiv.  [1910]  2,  3.  O.  SCHRADER. 

CRIMINOLOGY.— I.  Penal  codes.— Theactual 
extent  to  which  any  penal  code  may  be  made  to 
contribute  to  the  repression  of  crime  depends  much 
more  on  the  justice  and  equity  of  the  principles 
on  which  it  is  founded,  and  the  firmness  with  which 
it  is  administered,   than  on    the  severity  of  its 

E revisions.  Those  who  are  familiar  with  the 
istory  of  crime  in  Great  Britain  will  remember 
that  in  the  18th  cent.,  when  capital  punishment 
could  be  inflicted  for  a  hundred  offences  other  than 
murder,  crime  flourished  exceedingly.  Similarly, 
in  the  early  part  of  the  19th  cent,  crime  was 
rampant,  and  a  further  impetus  was  given  to  its 
growth  by  the  uncertainty  of  the  death  penalty. 
Thousands  of  death  sentences  were  passed,  but 
only  a  small  proportion  of  them  were  carried  out, 
so  that  offenders  came  to  regard  the  sentence  with 
contemptuous  indifference.  Again,  in  the  latter 
vol.  iv. — 20 


half  of  the  century  the  long  and  severe  sentences 
of  penal  servitude,  which  seemed  to  prisoners  them- 
selves, as  well  as  to  many  others,  vindictive  in 
aim  and  effect,  had  no  repressive  influence  on 
crime,  the  numbers  of  those  in  penal  servitude 
at  that  time  being  more  than  three  times  as  great 
as  in  1910.  No  real  and  steady  fall  in  crime  took 
place  till  in  1879  the  Summary  Jurisdiction  Act 
put  an  end  to  these  long  sentences.  Almost  simul- 
taneously a  uniform  system  of  prison  administra- 
tion and  treatment  was  inaugurated,  and  all  local 
prisons  were  handed  over  to  the  State.  The  coinci- 
dent fall  in  crime  which  began  then,  and  has 
steadily  gone  on  since,  may  fairly  be  ascribed,  to 
a  large  extent,  to  these  two  reforms,  which  may 
be  said  to  combine  mitigation  of  penalties  with 
uniformity  and  certainty  of  application.  From 
time  to  time  the  penal  treatment  of  offenders 
oscillated  between  extreme  severity  and  extreme 
laxity ;  but,  when  both  these  principles  were  in 
force  at  the  same  time — denoting  instability  of 
administration  —  the  very  worst  results  ensued. 
About  the  year  1830,  when  capital  sentences  were 
freely  passed  and  not  inflicted,  the  convict  popula- 
tion of  Great  Britain,  with  its  population  of  15 
millions,  consisted  of  no  fewer  than  50,000  persons, 
some  in  hulks  and  prisons  at  home,  others  in  penal 
settlements  and  Colonies.  The  cost  of  mainten- 
ance, which  was  enormous,  was  surpassed  only  by 
the  futility  of  the  system  of  punishment.  Subse- 
quently the  Penal  Servitude  Act  of  1853,  and  the 
refusal  on  the  part  of  our  Colonies  to  receive 
convicts,  put  an  end  in  Great  Britain  to  transporta- 
tion. The  number  of  convicts  meanwhile  declined, 
till  in  1852  it  was  17,000 ;  and  in  1878,  when  the 
local  prisons  were  handed  over  to  the  State,  it 
amounted  only  to  10,000.  At  present  (1910)  the 
number  is  about  3000. 

Recrudescence  of  severity  in  punishment  occurred 
now  and  then,  as,  for  instance,  when  flogging  was 
freely  resorted  to  in  order  to  put  down  garrotting ; 
but  on  the  whole  the  tendency  of  our  criminal  law, 
since  the  Prison  Act  of  1865  at  all  events,  has  been 
in  the  direction  of  leniency  in  prison  treatment ; 
and  the  results  have  been  satisfactory.  To  a  large 
extent  this  spirit  of  leniency  may  be  regarded  as 
in  itself  a  reflexion  of  the  improvement  in  the 
character  and  conduct  of  our  people,  which,  again, 
depends  largely  on  the  general  advance  in  civiliza- 
tion, together  with  the  spread  of  education,  intellig- 
ence, temperance,  and  other  influences  designed  to 
elevate  the  people.  Such  influences  have  a  much 
larger  share  in  preventing  crime  than  any  punitive 
measures  can  have  in  repressing  it ;  nevertheless, 
a  penal  code  of  some  kind  is  an  unhappy  necessity 
for  every  civilized  State.  Imprisonment  in  some 
form,  therefore,  appears  to  be  the  only  means  at 
our  disposal,  short  of  capital  punishment,  for  the 
punishment  or  restraint  of  those  persons  whose 
conduct  renders  them  a  danger  to  society. 

2.  Foreign  penal  systems.  —  A  glance  at  the 
penal  systems  in  other  countries — that  of  our  own 
being  reserved  for  consideration  later  on — is  of 
interest  in  connexion  with  the  subject.  England, 
to  her  shame,  too  long  neglected  the  warnings  of 
the  far-seeing  John  Howard.  The  overcrowding 
of  her  gaols,  the  indiscriminate  herding  together  of 
criminals  of  both  sexes,  and  of  all  ages  and  varieties, 
and  the  total  neglect  of  the  authorities  to  bring  any 
religious  or  moral  influences  to  bear  on  the  unhappy 
inmates,  produced  an  inevitable  crop  of  profligacy, 
moral  and  physical  corruption,  wide-spread  disease, 
and  death.  When  at  last  she  woke  up,  and  found 
that  proper  sanitary  buildings  and  separation  of 
prisoners  were  essential  to  reform,  and  when 
Pentonville  Prison  was  built  in  1842,  an  impetus 
was  at  once  given  to  sane  administration.  Since 
i  then  England  has  been  amongst  the  foremost  of 


CRIMINOLOGY 


the  nations  in  the  search  for  some  equitable,  moral, 
and  scientific  scheme  of  prison  treatment  calcu- 
lated to  reconcile  the  rights  of  society  with  the 
rehabilitation  of  the  criminal  so  as  to  enable  him 
to  return  to  a  law-abiding  life.  It  is,  however,  to 
the  United  States  that  the  palm  must  be  given  for 
progressive  experiments  in  this  direction.  No 
methods  of  reform  and  no  social  experiments 
appear  too  costly  or  troublesome  to  the  indefatig- 
able philanthropists  of  America  who  take  up  this 
subject,  if  only  they  are  reasonably  likely  to 
reclaim  criminals.  Starting  with  the  root-idea, 
which  may  be  over-sanguine,  that  no  one  is  abso- 
lutely irreclaimable,  they  have  established  at 
Elmira,  and  other  prisons,  or  '  State  Reforma- 
tories,' a  system  based  on  the  indeterminate 
sentence,  combined  with  conditional  liberation  on 
parole  when  the  prisoner  gives  satisfactory  evidence 
of  reform.  A  somewhat  strict  discipline,  with 
drill  of  a  military  character  ;  instruction  in  skilled 
industries  ;  moral,  religious,  and  secular  education, 
united  with  various  kinds  of  amusement,  are 
expected  to  alter  character,  and  turn  the  subjects 
into  good  citizens.  Further,  every  one  is  enabled 
to  profit  pecuniarily  by  his  own  work,  and  is 
expected  to  demonstrate  his  fitness  for  discharge  ; 
but  he  must  first  find  employment.  Probation 
officers  supervise  and  help  those  on  parole,  and 
misconduct  leads  to  forfeiture  of  licence. 

From  this  sketch  of  the  system,  which  is  a  type 
of  others,  it  will  be  seen  that  Elmira  is  practically 
a  reformatory  for  adults,  who  are  received  up  to 
the  age  of  thirty.  All  are  known  as  'inmates,' 
not  prisoners,  though  they  are  under  sentences  of 
from  one  to  a  possible  twenty  years.  Considerable 
success  is  claimed  for  the  Elmira  system,  but 
statistics  are  not  convincing  as  to  the  number  of 
reclaimed  cases,  originally  alleged  to  be  80  per 
cent.  According  to  a  report  of  the  New  York 
Prison  Association,  which  recently  analyzed  the 
cases  on  parole  from  Elmira,  '  probably  not  over 
70  per  cent  of  men  paroled  can  be  classed  as 
reformed,'  while  some  other  authorities  put  the 
percentage  at  50.  'Society  is  best  protected,' 
they  say,  'by  the  reform  of  the  criminal.'  One 
point  emerges,  however  —  the  actuality  of  the 
incorrigible,  of  whose  too  frequent  appearance  at 
Elmira  they  make  complaint.  The  tracing  and 
following  up  of  the  reclaimed  is  difficult  in  so  vast 
a  country,  with  unlimited  facility  for  travel. 

But,  if  the  United  States  has  some  of  the  best 
and  most  progressive  prisons,  it  has  also  many  of 
the  worst  in  Christendom.  Race  prejudice  against 
the  negro,  who  is  held  to  be  either  irreclaimable  or 
not  worth  reclaiming ;  Labour  Laws  which,  in 
many  of  the  States,  either  prohibit  altogether  or 
restrict  the  sale  of  prison-made  goods,  and  so 
keep  prisoners  idle,  or  employed  in  unproductive 
work  ;  constant  changes  of  the  wardens  or  governors 
as  political  parties  come  and  go ;  public  apathy 
and  parsimony  in  regard  to  prisoners ;  and  a 
general  desire  to  make  prisons  pay  their  way — 
these  are  the  conditions  which  make  the  state  of 
most  of  the  county  and  city  gaols  fall  very  far 
short  of  modern  ideals.  The  late  Secretary  of  the 
Howard  Association,  Mr.  Edward  Grubb,  made  a 
tour  of  some  of  these  prisons  in  1904,  and  found 
them  very  unsatisfactory,  and  in  startling  contrast 
to  the  State  Prisons  and  Reformatories.    He  says  : 

'These  institutions  (county  and  city  gaols),  designed  for  the 
most  part  for  prisoners  awaiting  trial,  and  for  the  serving  of 
short  sentences  by  misdemeanants,  are,  with  little  exception, 
far  from  satisfactory,  even  in  the  Northern  States.  The  best  I 
saw  was  at  Boston.  At  Indianapolis,  and  at  Cleveland  and 
Mansfield  (Ohio),  to  say  nothing  of  the  South,  the  gaols  were, 
for  the  most  part,  far  from  clean,  and  the  prisoners  were  shut 
up  together,  with  full  opportunity  to  corrupt  each  other. 
Either  they  had  no  occupation  (at  Mansfield  they  were  engaged 
in  playing  at  cards),  or,  if  employed  (as  at  the  House  of  Correc- 
tion at  Cleveland),  they  were  working  in  a  very  half-'hearted 


manner.'  He  describes  the  state  of  the  convict  camps  as  teem- 
ing with  abuses — indiscriminate  association,  negro  women  '  con- 
stantly having  babies,'  'terrible  cruelties  and  even  murders,1 
and  bad  sanitary  conditions  (see  the  pamphlet  published  by  the 
Howard  Association). 

Even  in  the  better  class  prisons,  many  of  the 
privileges  extended  to  prisoners  seem  to  breathe 
a  freedom  which  would  probably  be  unsuitable  for 
our  class  of  habitual.  Buying  and  selling,  the 
free  use  of  tobacco  for  smoking  and  chewing,  card- 
playing,  cinematograph  exhibitions  of  prize-fights, 
and  so  on,  are  too  advanced  expedients  for  moral 
improvement  to  appeal  to  British  sentiment. 

Like  everything  else  in  the  United  States,  crime 
is  on  an  immense  scale.  A  country  so  huge  in 
itself,  containing  such  a  varied  population,  black 
and  white,  and  receiving  every  year  hosts  of 
immigrants  from  everywhere,  is,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  a  hunting-ground  for  criminals.  Further, 
it  has  almost  as  many  penal  systems  as  it  has 
States,  so  that  it  is  difficult  to  estimate  the  general 
effect  on  crime  of  any  special  penal  measures.  The 
Americans  themselves,  however,  are  drawing 
public  attention  to  the  appalling  list  of  murders 
committed — not  only  to  the  large  proportion  that 
go  unpunished,  but  also  to  the  small  percentage  of 
cases  in  which  the  death  penalty  is  inflicted  after 
a  conviction  has  been  obtained.  They  are  also 
holding  an  inquiry  into  their  methods  of  adminis- 
tering the  criminal  law,  which  hitherto  have  been 
so  slow  and  uncertain  as  to  lead  to  the  belief  that 
crime  is  getting  out  of  hand.  They  seem  to  be 
already  on  the  way  to  find  out  that  a  firm  adminis- 
tration of  criminal  law  is  essential  to  the  repression 
of  crime. 

The  penal  systems  in  force  in  Continental  coun- 
tries differ  very  widely  from  one  another.  Several, 
like  Russia,  France,  and  Portugal,  adhere  to  trans- 
portation as  a  punishment  for  the  more  serious 
kinds  of  crime,  although  Great  Britain  discarded 
this  penalty  as  costly  and  ineffective  more  than 
half  a  century  ago.  The  principle  of  cellular  con- 
finement on  the  separate  system,  which  was  estab- 
lished by  law  in  England  in  1865,  finds  favour  with 
all  European  nations,  as  it  does  with  all  British 
Colonies,  and  with  progressive  Japan ;  but  in 
practice  it  is  by  no  means  universally  adopted. 
The  magnificent  modern  prison  built  by  France  at 
Fresnes  has  been  designed  for  separation,  but 
there  is  considerable  scope  for  association  also, 
in  order  to  prevent  overcrowding.  It  may  be  said 
generally  that  all  the  European  nations  which  have 
built  prisons  in  recent  years  have  designed  them 
with  a  view  to  carrying  out  separation.  In  Belgium, 
where  much  public  attention  has  been  given  to 
prison  treatment  and  the  repression  of  crime, 
cellular  confinement  has  been  carried  to  its  utmost 
limits.  Prisoners  have  been  kept  in  solitude  com- 
pulsorily  for  ten  years,  after  which  they  have  been 
offered  a  modified  form  of  association,  which  many 
are  said  to  have  refused,  so  that  instances  are  on 
record  of  over  twenty  years  of  this  kind  of  seclusion. 
Of  late  there  has  been  a  revulsion  of  feeling  on 
this  question,  and  the  new  school  of  penologists 
are  now  working  for  drastic  reform.  Russia,  too, 
carries  out  the  Belgian  system  in  several  of  her 
prisons.  Austria-Hungary  was  said  to  have  had 
only  15  per  cent  of  her  prisoners  under  the  separate 
system  a  few  years  ago,  although  approving  of 
that  system  in  theory.  Many  of  the  new  prisons 
are  of  a  palatial  character,  but  none  of  them 
surpasses  our  own  in  sanitation,  and  we  possess  an 
undoubted  advantage  in  having  the  whole  prison 
system  of  the  country  under  the  single  control  of 
the  State — an  advantage  which  has  been  found 
very  difficult  of  attainment  in  the  other  countries 
of  Europe,  and  practically  impossible  in  America. 

The  results  of  the  various  systems  are  very 
difficult  to  disentangle  from  the  official  statistics 


CRIMINOLOGY 


307 


supplied  by  each  country.  For  purposes  of  com- 
parison with  our  own  results  it  has  been  found 
impossible  to  arrive  at  any  definite  or  valuable 
conclusions.  If  murders  only  were  reckoned  as  a 
test  of  the  amount  of  crime,  Great  Britain  would 
certainly  rank  high  ;  but  this  would  give  a  false 
idea  of  the  extent  to  which  other  serious  crime 
prevails.  Offences  against  the  person  are  much 
more  common  in  some  countries  than  in  others, 
while  offences  against  property  form  the  bulk  (as 
in  our  own  country)  of  the  crime  in  others.  There 
is,  however,  one  conclusion  which  can  be  drawn 
from  the  general  survey.  Kecidivism  is  rampant 
everywhere.  In  France  it  has  been  specially  pre- 
valent, and  the  recrudescence  of  crime,  particularly 
amongst  the  Apaches,  or  hooligan  class  of  youths, 
who  commit  murderous  assaults  on  police  and 
others,  is  of  sinister  omen,  and  has  already  led  to 
a  revival  of  capital  punishment.  Whether  or  not 
these  phenomena  are  to  be  regarded  as  only  tempo- 
rary manifestations  of  a  prevailing  state  of  general 
social  unrest,  of  which  we  have  had  recent  examples 
in  the  strike-riots  in  France,  Germany,  and  Wales, 
it  is  certain  that  a  heavy  responsibility  rests  on 
those  who  preach  anarchy.  It  is  well  they  should 
remember  that  crime  is  a  much  worse  social  evil 
than  discontent,  and  that  they  are  probably  stimu- 
lating the  one  by  encouraging  the  other. 

3.  No  universal  system  of  punishment  practic- 
able.—Although  the  study  of  crime  has  already 
attained  to  the  doubtful  dignity  of  an  '  ology,'  and 
learned  experts  of  most  of  the  civilized  nations 
have  been  laying  their  heads  together  in  congress 
for  several  years  with  a  view  to  investigating  its 
causes  and  devising  remedies  for  an  evil  from 
which  they  all  suffer  alike,  it  cannot  be  said  that 
criminology  is  yet  by  any  means  to  be  reckoned 
amongst  the  exact  sciences.  Human  nature  with 
its  faults  and  foibles  may  be  the  same  all  the  world 
over,  but  the  different  phases  of  criminality,  the 
different  moral  standards,  and  the  different  national 
temperaments  which  characterize  various  races,  all 
tend  to  modify  our  pre-conceived  ideas  as  to  the 
possibility  of  repressing  crime,  as  a  general  evil 
affecting  the  world  at  large,  by  any  remedy,  or 
by  any  set  of  remedies,  whether  preventive,  re- 
formatory, or  punitive  in  intention,  which  can  be 
held  to  be  of  universal  application.  It  is  well  to 
understand  that  there  is  no  royal  road  to  the 
solution  of  complicated  problems  of  this  kind. 
We  are  in  the  habit,  from  time  to  time,  of  institut- 
ing more  or  less  disparaging  comparisons  between 
our  own  methods  and  those  of  our  neighbours  in 
matters  of  social  reform.  Introspection  of  this 
kind  is  undoubtedly  a  national  characteristic  that 
is  highly  advantageous,  tending,  as  it  does,  to 
check  complacency  and  stimulate  progress ;  but 
we  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  many 
features  of  the  judicial  procedure  and  the  penal 
systems  in  force  amongst  Continental  nations  are 
utterly  foreign  to  our  ideals,  and  ill-adapted  to 
our  use.  The  well-known  practice,  for  instance,  of 
'  interrogating '  accused  persons  which,  in  our  eyes, 
amounts  to  heckling  of  a  particularly  cruel  and 
vindictive  type,  is  so  foreign  to  the  basic  principle 
of  our  criminal  law,  which  holds  every  man 
innocent  until  his  guilt  is  proved,  that  we  could 
not,  if  we  would,  fit  so  incongruous  a  practice  into 
our  scheme  of  things.  In  the  same  way,  the  life- 
long periods  of  solitude  and  seclusion  in  vogue 
with  some  Continental  nations,  by  the  side  of 
which  our  brief  terms  of  mitigated  separate  con- 
finement seem  unheroic  and  contemptible,  are  so 
repugnant  to  our  national  sentiments  of  justice 
and  humanity  that  we  decline  even  to  look  at 
them. 

It  has  been  said  that  every  country  has  the  govern- 
ment it  deserves.     The  dictum  applies  with  equal 


cogency  to  its  laws,  to  its  administrative  machinery, 
and  to  the  penal  and  disciplinary  measures  which 
it  deems  necessary  for  the  guidance  and  control  of 
its  citizens.  We  may  assume,  in  fact,  that  every 
country  knows  best  the  main  lines  on  which  its 
subjects  can  be  kept  in  order  ;  and  it  will  be  found 
that  national  habits  and  customs,  national  senti- 
ment, and  national  temperament  are  factors  which 
have  much  more  to  do  with  the  shaping  of  penal 
systems  and  codes  of  moral  discipline  for  peoples 
than  the  degree  of  civilization  to  which  these 
peoples  have  attained.  We  find,  accordingly,  that 
the  civilized  countries  generally  differ  very  widely 
from  one  another  in  the  matter  of  criminal  law  ad- 
ministration, that  the  range  of  variation  is  almost 
as  great  as  that  which  distinguishes  civilized  from 
uncivilized  methods,  and  that  each  country  seem- 
ingly adopts  the  practice  which  to  a  large  extent 
may  be  said  to  reflect  the  genius  and  character  of 
its  people,  just  as  it  selects  the  guillotine,  the 
electrocution  chair,  or  the  rope  for  the  infliction  of 
the  death  penalty.  It  is  probably  for  these  reasons 
that  International  Prison  Congresses  do  not  waste 
their  time  and  energies  in  the  fruitless  search  for 
an  ideal  and  universal  penal  system ;  but  seek 
rather  to  improve  existing  systems,  or  to  discover 
some  general  principles,  or  some  details  in  working, 
that  may  be  adapted  to  those  which  are  already  in 
force,  and  which  are  presumably  suited,  in  their 
main  outlines  at  all  events,  to  the  countries  in 
which  they  have  had  their  origin  and  development 
— all  due  weight  being  given,  on  the  other  hand, 
to  the  consideration  that  indigenous  plants  do  not 
always  thrive  in  foreign  soil. 

It  would  appear,  then,  that  very  little  is  to  be 
gained  by  comparing  or  contrasting  one  penal 
system  with  another  when  they  are  not  really 
parallel,  and  much  less  by  trying  to  glorify  one  at 
the  expense  of  another.  We  may  feel  convinced 
that  our  own  system,  which  has  been  evolved  from 
our  experience  by  steps  so  deliberate  that  they 
never  can  be  said  to  approach  rashness,  is  fairly 
adapted  to  our  present-day  requirements  ;  but  it 
is  very  doubtful  whether  it  would  meet  the  wants 
of  different  states  of  society  in  other  countries,  or 
even  in  our  own  under  the  social  conditions  that 
prevailed  half  a  century  ago.  The  criminals  of 
that  period  would  undoubtedly  have  been  attracted, 
rather  than  repelled,  by  the  comparative  amenities 
of  life  in  a  modern  prison.  Hosts  of  them  would 
have  taken  a  long-wished-for  rest  in  so  comfortable 
a  retreat,  seeking  compensation,  in  a  restoration 
of  their  health  and  energies,  for  any  inconvenience 
or  boredom  they  might  have  had  to  put  up  with 
while  undergoing  moral  repairs.  It  must  seem 
strange  to  those  who  are  unfamiliar  with  our 
British  moods  of  self-depreciation  and  pessimism 
that  the  very  confident  theorists  who  are  never 
tired  of  reminding  us  that  we  are  on  an  entirely 
wrong  track,  and  that  our  system  is  a  fiasco,  should 
practically  all  be  found  in  our  own  camp.  Out- 
siders take  by  no  means  so  disparaging  a  view. 
Becognizing,  as  they  do,  the  enormous  reduction 
that  has  taken  place  in  recent  years  in  our  number 
of  criminals,  they  look  somewhat  askance  at  the 
rhetorical  explanation,  which  is  frequently  resorted 
to  In  similar  cases,  that  improvement  has  come  '  in 
spite  of  the  system ' ;  they  regard  the  system,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  with  a  much  more  favouring  eye. 
Further,  it  is  a  matter  of  some  significance  that, 
after  due  allowance  has  been  made  for  the  effects 
of  family  tradition,  our  progressive  and  up-to-date 
younger  brothers  in  Australia,  who  are  neither 
visionaries  nor  dreamers  of  dreams,  follow  very 
closely  our  procedure  and  practice.  The  fashion- 
able outcry  against  modern  penal  treatment  is 
really  traceable  to  the  fluent  pens  and  forensic 
accomplishments  of    ex-criminals,   who   by   their 


308 


CRIMINOLOGY 


ex  parte  allegations  seem  to  have  captured  the 
greater  part  of  the  press  and  a  considerable  portion 
of  the  general  public. 

In  Crime  and  Criminals  (1910)  the  present  writer 
made  an  effort  to  stem  the  tide  of  delusion  and 
misrepresentation  on  the  subject,  but  it  still  ad- 
vances. The  basis  of  this  pessimistic  outcry  is  a 
complete  fallacy.  Prison  treatment,  we  are  told, 
is  a  failure  because  '  it  neither  deters  nor  reforms 
the  habitual  criminal.'  But  all  the  authorities  are 
agreed  that  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of 
the  habitual  criminal  is  that  he  actually  prefers 
his  vocation  to  the  humdrum  alternative  of  a 
steady  and  active  working  life.  The  writer's  own 
intimate  and  first-hand  acquaintance  with  the 
living  type  enables  him  emphatically  to  confirm  this 
discouraging  conclusion.  Whether  the  habitual 
criminal's  vicious  propensities  are  innate  or  ac- 
quired, it  is  certain  that  his  habits,  when  he 
reaches  maturity  as  we  find  him  in  prison,  are 
practically  ineradicable.  The  spirit  of  the  road 
seems  to  be  in  him,  and  his  predatory  instincts 
have  already  developed  into  fixed  habits,  so  that 
he  is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a  hopeless 
incorrigible.  Here  lies  the  difficulty.  No  system 
yet  invented  can  fairly  be  expected  to  alter  a 
person  of  this  type.  To  correct  the  incorrigible 
appears  to  be  a  feat  analogous,  both  in  sound  and 
sense,  to  squaring  the  circle.  We  are  not,  how- 
ever, without  some  means  for  dealing  with  him. 
If  methods  of  cure  are  not  feasible,  prevention  and 
restraint  are  still  open  to  us.  The  Borstal  system 
of  treatment  for  the  incipient  habitual,  and  pre- 
ventive detention  for  the  veteran,  typify  these  two 
modern  prison  expedients  respectively.  For  the 
present,  however,  the  writer  is  more  concerned 
to  point  out  the  fallacious  reasoning  on  which  the 
theory  of  failure  is  based.  No  notice  whatever 
is  taken  of  the  important  fact  that  the  number  of 
habitual  criminals  at  present  in  btcsiness  has  been 
brought  within  such  manageable  proportions  that 
it  may  quite  reasonably  be  said  that  we  have  them 
in  a  ring  fence.  The  same  set  pass  in  and  out  of 
prison  with  apparently  unvarying  regularity,  and, 
for  the  most  part,  for  the  same  kinds  of  offences. 
Specialization  in  crime,  indeed,  has  become  so 
marked  in  our  time  that  the  police  authorities  of 
Scotland  Yard  claim  that  they  can,  in  most 
instances,  tell,  from  the  manner  in  which  a  clever 
burglary  or  robbery  has  been  planned,  the  name 
of  the  expert  who  committed  it.  One  might  fairly 
expect  that  the  reduction  of  a  standing  convict 
population  of  10,000  persons  in  1880  to  3000  persons 
in  1910  would  be  considered  a  respectable  achieve- 
ment under  any  system,  and  would  give  rise  to 
some  doubt,  if  not  disbelief,  in  the  minds  of  think- 
ing people,  as  to  the  truth  of  the  failure  theory. 
The  current  of  general  opinion,  however,  if  we  are 
to  judge  from  the  press,  sets  in  quite  the  opposite 
direction ;  and  we  are  led  to  believe  that  we 
are  going  from  bad  to  worse  because  habituals 
and  incorrigibles,  although  they  decrease  steadily 
enough  in  numbers,  decline  to  amend  their  ways, 
or  to  vanish  en  masse  into  the  obscurity  of  some 
honest  calling.  It  is  well  we  should  cherish  no 
illusions  on  this  subject.  Our  repressive  measures 
stand  in  constant  need  of  tightening  up  for  this 
intractable  class  of  criminal,  and  our  reformatory 
methods  in  like  manner  need  constant  widening  in 
scope,  if  we  are  to  arrive  at  better  results  ;  but  no 
conceivable  combination  of  them  will  ever  succeed 
in  totally  eliminating  'those  obnoxious  persons  from 
the  community.  In  regard  to  the  system  itself,  it 
is  not  claimed  that  the  mere  absence  of  failure 
denotes  the  presence  of  perfection.  It  is  quite 
conceivable,  and  perhaps  even  probable,  that  more 
good  might  be  accomplished  in  other  countries  by 
a  different  set  of  principles  and  machinery  ;  but  it 


is  claimed  that  our  own  system  has  produced  fair 
practical  results,  and  that  it  is  better  suited  to  our 
national  requirements  than  any  exotic  system  with 
which  we  are  acquainted. 

4.  Theories  of  punishment. — But,  if  public 
opinion  is  unsound  in  regard  to  the  treatment  of 
the  criminal,  public  sentiment  is  maudlin  and 
unhealthy  on  the  theory  of  punishment.  A  general 
tendency  to  minimize  almost  to  vanishing  point 
individual  and  personal  responsibility,  and  to  set 
up  in  its  stead  the  fantastic  substitute  of  a  col- 
lective and  huge  unlimited  liability  company, 
comprising  the  whole  body  politic,  is  a  pernicious 
feature  of  our  time.  Surely  a  more  demoralizing 
doctrine,  destitute  alike  of  the  sanction  of  religion, 
morality,  law,  and  common  sense,  has  never  been 
promulgated  for  the  edification  and  guidance  of  a 
free  and  self-respecting  people.  Those  who  aspire 
to  regenerate  society  by  this  egregious  piece  of 
social  philosophy  are  hugging  a  very  vain  delusion. 
It  abolishes  at  a  stroke  the  exercise  of  free  will, 
without  which  society  could  not  hold  together,  and 
it  is  quite  outside  the  realm  of  logic.  If  any  sane 
individual  in  the  community  be  permitted,  even  in 
the  name  of  philosophy,  to  divest  himself  of  his 
social  and  moral  responsibility  by  the  simple  pro- 
cess of  becoming  a  criminal,  it  is  obviously  .open  to 
any,  or  all,  of  the  other  individuals  of  whom  society 
is  composed  to  claim  a  similar  privilege.  A  premium 
is  thereby  placed  on  evil-doing,  and  every  man  is 
tempted  to  become  a  law  unto  himself.  The  practi- 
cal result  of  such  a  relaxation  of  our  moral  code 
would  undoubtedly  be  that  the  maintenance  of 
social  order  would  be  rendered  difficult,  if  not  impos- 
sible ;  we  should  find  ourselves  retracing  our  steps 
in  the  direction  of  barbarism  ;  and,  incidentally,  we 
should  find  the  world  a  distinctly  unpleasant  place 
to  live  in. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  theory 
of  personal  responsibility  is  to  be  applied  ruthlessly 
to  those  who  are,  from  mental  deficiency,  actually 
incapable  of  fully  appreciating  the  significance 
of  their  offences,  and  who  are,  to  this  extent,  not 
answerable  for  unsocial  conduct.  It  should  be  the 
aim  of  any  humane  system  to  apply  disciplinary 
methods  very  sparingly,  if  at  all,  to  this  unhappy 
class,  who  at  present  amount  to  3  or  4  per  cent  of 
our  prison  population.  Hitherto  these  hapless 
offenders — '  weak-minded,  but  not  insane,'  in  the 
language  of  the  Courts — have  been  a  source  of 
much  anxiety  to  the  magistrates  who  have  had  to 
deal  with  them,  as  well  as  to  prison  authorities 
who  are  constantly  receiving  them  on  short  and 
useless  sentences.  In  prison  they  have  been  treated 
under  a  very  modified  form  of  discipline,  and  efforts 
have  been  made  to  improve  their  conduct  and  con- 
dition. Medical  protection  has  shielded  them  from 
actual  physical  detriment,  but  the  atmosphere  of  a 
penal  institution  is  by  no  means  conducive  to  their 
moral  improvement,  nor  is  it  one  in  which  they 
should  be  compelled  to  live  even  for  short  periods. 
The  Royal  Commission  on  the  Care  and  Control  of 
the  Feeble-Minded  has  fully  recognized  this  weak 
spot,  and  legislation  is  now  urgently  needed  tc 
carry  out  their  recommendations. 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  foregoing  that  the 
principle  of  vicarious  responsibility,  if  applied  in 
practice,  would  not  tend  to  the  repression  of  crime. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  vehemently  insisted  on  at  street 
corners,  in  the  pulpit,  and  in  the  press,  while  the 
dramatic  possibilities  of  impulsive  criminality  and 
temporary  irresponsibility  are  exploited  in  sensa- 
tional drama.  Many  good  and  benevolently- 
minded  people  seem  to  get  periodically  conscience- 
stricken  on  behalf  of  the  criminal  as  a  victim  of 
circumstances.  Not  only  are  they  willing  to  bear 
the  burden  of  their  own  small  vices,  but  also,  in 
their  emotional  fervour,  to  take  up  his  larger  ones. 


CRIMINOLOGY 


309 


and  condone  his  crimes,  however  heinous.  They 
almost  apologize  to  him  for  his  existence  as  being  a 
victim  of  heredity,  and  palliate  his  misdeeds  on  the 
grounds  of  his  bringing  up,  so  that  every  vulgar 
felon  comes  to  think  he  is  in  reality  a  very  ill-used 
person.  Criminals  are  consequently  quite  ready 
to  adopt  the  extenuations  and  excuses  which  are 
urged  in  their  behalf,  not  only  by  their  legal  advo- 
cates, but  also  by  theorists  in  criminology.  In  the 
writer's  recollection,  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago, 
'  poverty  '  and  '  drink  '  were  the  two  main  causes 
given  by  prisoners  for  their  downfall  ;  but  now 
these  pleas  have  gone  out  of  fashion,  in  favour  of 
unemployment,  parental  neglect,  slum-life,  and 
financial  embarrassment.  That  such  social  evils 
exist  to  a  deplorable  extent  at  present — although 
twenty  years  ago  they  were  much  worse  and  much 
more  common — no  candid  inquirer  can  deny  ;  but 
that  they  have  had  any  material  influence  on  the 
manufacture  of  the  professional  criminal  who 
selects  his  own  calling,  or,  as  he  himself  might 
put  it,  '  chooses  his  own  pitch,'  is  a  very  doubtful 
proposition.  A  prolonged  study  of  the  actual 
living  specimen  has  led  the  writer  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  professional  criminal  is  possessed 
of  qualities  which  would  enable  him  to  emerge 
with  ease  and  credit  from  any,  or  all,  of  these 
alleged  social  disadvantages,  if  only  he  had  the 
will  to  make  the  attempt.  The  inexperienced, 
occasional  offender  is  much  more  handicapped  by 
those  conditions,  and  he  is  not  generally  gifted 
with  the  staying  or  enterprising  characteristics  of 
the  old  hand.  It  is  much  more  probable  that  the 
genesis  and  development  of  the  latter  type  are 
traceable  to  a  gambling  spirit  which  characterizes 
his  class.  In  his  spells  of  freedom  the  race-course 
is  the  special  scene  of  his  recreation.  Familiarity 
with  risks  breeds  contempt,  and  he  gambles  with 
liberty  much  more  light-heartedly  than  others  do 
with  stocks  and  shares.  But  the  cure  of  social 
evils  which  are  so  wide-spread  is  of  necessity  a 
very  slow  process.  Their  total  extinction,  if  such 
a  thing  were  possible,  would  unquestionably  tend 
to  the  prevention  of  much  crime  and  human 
suffering ;  but  there  would  still  be  left  a  sub- 
stantial residue  of  crime  unconnected  with  these 
social  evils,  and  society  would  be  compelled  to 
protect  itself  from  this  by  the  infliction  of  some 
kind  of  punishment.  Even  in  the  ideal  Socialist 
community  of  the  future,  when  it  gets  into  work- 
ing order,  this  problem  is  not  unlikely  to  crop  up, 
and  compel  attention ;  but  meantime  what  are  we 
to  do  with  the  persistent  offender  ? 

Another  strange  theory  which  is  promulgated  by 
the  apologists  of  the  criminal,  and  which  bears  on 
the  ethics  of  punishment,  has  a  somewhat  captivat- 
ing effect  on  short-sighted  reformers.  There  is, 
we  are  told,  something  immoral,  or  unfair,  or  at 
least  pusillanimous,  in  inflicting  punishment  on  a 
guilty  person  in  order  to  deter  others  from  crime. 
Except  on  the  grounds  that  the  guilty  person  is 
punished  with  excessive  severity,  or  beyond  his 
deserts,  this  specious  theory  cannot  be  sustained. 
If  we  beg  this  part  of  the  question,  as  is  generally 
done  for  the  purposes  of  the  argument,  the  immoral 
and  unjustifiable  nature  of  the  proceeding  is  clear 
enough.  Otherwise  the  practice  is  both  rational 
and  equitable.  The  actual  criminal  suffers  no 
wrong,  the  strictly  non-criminal  person  is  totally 
unaffected,  while  the  person  with  dormant  criminal 
proclivities,  who  is  tottering  on  the  verge  of 
criminality,  is  provided  with  a  strong  and  valuable 
incentive  to  virtue.  '  Encouraging  the  others ' 
cannot  be  considered  an  immoral  expedient  in 
dealing  with  crime.  The  deterrent  principle,  which 
has  always  been  recognized  by  law,  is  in  reality  a 
double-edged  weapon  of  the  highest  value.  Its 
effect  on  the  actual  offender  may  be,  and  often  is, 


absolutely  negative ;  but  on  others  its  force  is 
incalculable,  and  invariably  many  times  greater 
and  more  far-reaching  than  on  the  individual. 
This  fact  is  too  often  ignored  by  those  who  criti- 
cize and  under-rate  the  deterrent  effects  of  penal 
measures  and  systems  which  do  not  absolutely 
disclose  superficially  the  indirect  effects  which  they 
really  produce.  Statistics  show  clearly  enough 
that  our  penal  system  deters  occasional  and  first 
offenders,  though  it  has  very  little  deterrent  effect 
on  habituals.  Present-day  conditions  of  imprison- 
ment are  not  real  punishment  to  this  latter  class  at 
all,  but  merely  a  form  of  restraint  which  removes 
them  from  temptation  for  the  time  being.  The 
most  recent  device,  therefore,  which  has  been 
adopted  for  dealing  with  them  in  the  Prevention 
of  Crime  Act  of  1908 — that  is  to  say,  preventive 
detention  for  long  periods — is  really  a  measure  of 
inhibition  and  restraint,  adopted  primarily  in  the 
interests  of  society,  although  the  extension  of  time 
that  will  be  at  the  disposal  of  the  authorities  for 
effecting  moral  improvement  in  the  prisoners  them- 
selves is  also  expected  to  yield  more  encouraging 
results.  In  regard  to  the  principle  of  determent, 
the  only  profitable  use  to  which  the  habitual  can 
be  put,  until  he  renders  himself  more  amenable  to 
reformatory  influence,  would  appear  to  be  to  make 
him  a  warning  to  other  people  for  whom  prison  has 
more  terrors.  This,  after  all,  is  a  trifling  repara- 
tion for  him  to  make  to  a  community  on  which  he 
persistently  preys  for  a  living,  whether  he  be  in  or 
out  of  prison. 

But  these  various  doctrines  which  tend  to  the 
extenuation,  or,  it  might  be  said  not  unfairly,  to 
the  encouragement,  of  crime  are  quite  overshadowed 
by  the  much  wider  and  more  comprehensive  one 
that  we  have  no  right  to  punish,  and  no  moral 
justification  for  punishing,  our  fellow-creatures  at 
all.  Count  Tolstoi  was  the  leading  exponent  in 
recent  years  of  this  impossible  creed,  and  he 
gained  many  disciples,  who  have  been  attracted, 
apparently,  by  the  magnetism  of  his  genius.  In 
his  novel  Resurrection  he  makes  his  hero  Nehludof, 
who  is  really  a  replica  of  himself  and  his  own 
theories,  ask  the  question,  '  By  what  right  do  some 
people  punish  others  ?  Why,  and  by  what  right, 
do  some  people  lock  up,  torment,  exile,  flog,  and 
kill  others,  while  they  are  themselves  just  like 
those  whom  they  torment,  flog,  and  kill  ? '  It  is 
obvious  to  plain  people  that  the  latter  part  of  this 
question  embodies  the  underlying  fallacy  of  the 
whole  theory.  The  greater  part  of  society  is  law- 
abiding,  or  at  all  events  non-criminal  in  conduct. 
If  an  individual  member  is  permitted  to  torment, 
flog,  or  kill  another  individual  member  with  im- 
punity, why  should  society  collectively  be  denied 
the  same  right?  Every  State  or  community  has 
an  inherent  moral  right  to  make  laws  and  regula- 
tions for  the  maintenance  of  social  order.  If  social 
laws  are  merely  optional  in  character,  and  no 
penalties  are  attached  to  their  violation,  they  cease 
to  have  any  force  outside  Utopia,  so  that  every 
man's  hand  is  against  his  neighbour.  The  mind  of 
this  gifted  philosopher  in  his  latter  years  seem6  to 
reflect  the  state  of  chaos  and  anarchy  to  which  his 
teaching  led  him,  so  that  at  the  last  he  was  utterly 
weary  of  the  world  and  its  problems.  Theories 
denying  the  right  of  society  to  punish,  which  have 
no  foundation  whatever  in  the  Moral  Law  (on 
which  the  regulations  of  all  civilized  States  ulti- 
mately rest),  have  no  more  than  an  academic 
interest  for  practical  rulers.  However  suitable 
they  may  be  for  the  land  of  dreams  in  which 
Tolstoi's  spirit  seemed  to  dwell,  they  are  quite 
unfit  for  a  practical  world,  in  which  a  mere  touch 
of  the  actual  suffices  to  shatter  them  to  pieces. 

It  may  be  regarded,  then,  as  axiomatic  that 
punishment  in  some  form  is  essential  for  the  cor- 


310 


CRIMINOLOGY 


rection  of  persona  who  inflict  wrong  on  society ; 
that  the  right  to  punish  is  in  no  sense  immoral ; 
and  that  every  system  of  correction  should  have  in 
it  a  penal  element.  It  is  true  that  these  principles 
are  strenuously  denied  by  theorists  who  hold  that 
prison  treatment  should  be  purely  reformatory ; 
but  no  one  pretends  to  have  devised  a  workiiig 
scheme  for  carrying  out  this  beneficent  intention 
with  full-grown  criminals.  All  prison  treatment 
must  be,  in  the  nature  of  things,  to  some  extent 
penal,  since  it  deprives  persons  of  their  liberty. 
Even  Elmira  imposes  this  restraint.  To  a  large 
number  of  criminals,  moreover,  deprivation  of 
drink  is  penal,  while  others  find  regular  work  a 
kind  of  punishment.  It  cannot  be  contemplated 
that  the  ideal  prison  is  to  abolish  these  restrictions 
on  liberty  under  any  coming  regime.  It  is  already 
on  record  that  a  prison  without  work  existed  some 
years  ago  under  a  local  authority,  and  the  results 
were  found  to  be  neither  reformatory  nor  deter- 
rent. It  came  to  be  known  as  a  '  Reading-Reading- 
Reading  Gaol,'  and  one  prisoner  explained  his 
return  to  it  by  saying  he  had  come  back  to  finish 
his  book.  Many  sanguine  persons  are  too  ready 
to  assume  in  this  connexion  that  a  kind  of  '  Free- 
Library  '  treatment,  combined  with  musical  enter- 
tainments, will  alter  the  nature  and  habits  of  even 
hardened  criminals ;  but  those  who  live  outside 
doctrinaire  circles  know  that  much  deeper  moral 
and  spiritual  influences  are  needed  for  those  who 
persistently  covet  and  desire  other  men's  goods. 
At  the  present  time  it  is  the  fashion  to  decry,  or 
to  ignore  much  of  the  silent  work  of  prison 
chaplains.  This  work  is  very  often  carried  on 
under  the  most  disheartening  of  conditions,  espe- 
cially amongst  the  habituals.  The  writer  knows, 
however,  that  prisoners  themselves,  who  show  any 
wish  to  do  better,  get  an  enormous  amount  of 
encouragement,  guidance,  and  help  from  the  chap- 
lain ;  and  that  they  appreciate  the  unadvertised 
work  of  his  department  much  more  highly  than  do 
the  general  public,  or  those  who  write  on  prison 
reform. 

5.  Penalties  a  necessity. — Although  reformatory 
treatment  is  an  essential  element  of  every  good 
prison  system,  it  is  nevertheless  lacking  in  two  im- 
portant respects.  It  is  inapplicable  in  practice  to 
the  prisoners  with  very  short  sentences,  who  con- 
stitute the  bulk  of  the  whole  prison  population  ; 
and  it  embodies  none  of  that  deterrent  principle 
which  is  necessary  not  only  for  the  repression,  but 
also  for  the  prevention  of  crime.  It  is  obvious, 
therefore,  that  pains  and  penalties  of  some  kind 
must  be  resorted  to  in  order  to  check  or  restrain 
habits  of  crime ;  and  it  is  very  important  that 
these  penalties  should  bear  some  proper  and  ade- 
quate relation  to  the  nature  of  the  offence,  the 
character  of  the  offender,  and  the  general  sense  of 
public  justice  as  between  injurer  and  injured.  No 
longer  is  it  necessary  to  brand,  or  mutilate,  or  in- 
flict permanent  injury  on  those  whom  it  is  our 
interest  to  cure.  Society  has,  however,  the  right 
to  seek  redress  (not  revenge)  at  the  hands  of  wrong- 
doers, and  it  is  compelled  to  take  this  course  if  it 
would  prevent  the  substitution  of  private  venge- 
ance for  public  justice.  Now,  the  only  medium 
through  which  this  redress  can  be  exacted  at  present 
is  the  purse  or  the  person  of  the  offender,  so  that 
in  the  last  resort  we  are  driven  either  to  the  in- 
fliction of  capital  punishment  or  to  some  form  of 
imprisonment.  The  offender,  in  fact,  is  confronted 
with  the  footpad's  usual  alternative,  '  Your  money 
or  your  life,'  or  at  least  a  part  of  it.  If  any  one 
could  invent  a  less  objectionable  form  of  punish- 
ment which  would  restrain  the  criminal,  and  at 
the  same  time  reform  him,  and  deter  him  and 
others  from  the  committing  of  crime,  he  would 
merit  public  gratitude,  and  lay  our  penal  code  less 


open  to  even  a  suspicion  of  inhumanity.  But,  as 
this  is  merely  a  visionary  possibility,  we  can  only 
look  meantime  for  such  a  mitigation  of  the  con- 
ditions under  which  these  two  measures  are  ordered, 
or  carried  out,  as  will  meet  with  the  approval  of  a 
humane  and  just  public.  Much  has  already  been 
done  in  this  direction.  Capital  punishment  is  now 
practically  reserved  for  the  worst  cases  of  wilful 
murder,  though  it  is  still  on  the  code  for  a  few 
other  offences,  such  as  treason,  setting  fire  to  public 
arsenals,  etc. 

6.  Capital  punishment. — Without  entering  into 
the  merits  or  demerits  of  capital  punishment,  we 
shall  note  some  facts  in  connexion  with  the  subject 
which  tend  to  justify  us  the  in  use  of  it.  A  return 
laid  before  the  House  of  Commons  in  1907  shows 
that  most  of  the  chief  European  States,  and  most 
of  the  States  in  America,  retain  the  death  penalty 
in  their  codes,  though  many  of  them  use  it  spar- 
ingly. Baron  Garofalo,  the  President  of  the  Appeal 
Court  at  Naples,  in  his  book  on  Criminology  (see 
Lit.  at  end  of  art.)  tells  us  that  in  Italy,  where, 
since  1876,  there  have  been  no  executions  except 
under  military  law,  homicides  average  3814  a 
year,  compared  with  about  300  in  England.  He 
notes  similar  results  in  Belgium  and  Prussia,  where 
few  executions  take  place.  In  Switzerland,  when 
the  death  penalty  was  abolished,  murders  increased 
75  per  cent  in  five  years,  so  that  several  Cantons 
re-introduced  the  penalty.  In  France,  in  1824, 
juries  were  allowed  by  law  to  add  '  extenuating 
circumstances '  to  their  verdicts,  with  the  result 
that  the  annual  average  of  executions  fell  to  1-8  in 
1901-1905.  Homicide  was  meantime  increasing, 
but  in  1906  Government  brought  in  a  Bill  for 
abolition.  Soon  after  a  brutal  murder  occurred — 
'  l'affaire  Soleilland ' — and  public  feeling  was  so 
stirred  that  the  Bill  was  dropped  ;  so  that,  instead 
of  the  death  penalty  being  abolished,  it  became 
much  more  common.  In  America,  Mr.  Hugh  C. 
Weir  tells  us  (in  The  World  To-Day,  in  regard 
to  a  recent  census  of  American  crime)  that  '  in 
only  1-3  per  cent  of  our  homicides  do  we  secure 
a  conviction.'  Further,  he  states  that  Chicago 
averages  118  murders  a  year.  London,  which  has 
four  times  the  population  of  Chicago,  has  only  20. 
It  is  notorious  that  the  death  penalty  is  seldom 
carried  out  in  the  United  States  by  law,  though 
lynching  is  often  practised  mercilessly.  Since 
1868,  abolition  has  been  discussed  eight  times  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  negatived  on  each  occasion 
by  large  majorities.  Several  committees  and  com- 
missions have  decided  in  the  same  sense.  The 
opinion  of  the  Scottish  Judges  at  one  of  the  In- 
quiries was  : 

'  It  would  not  be  for  the  interests  of  humanity  that  the  well- 
conducted  and  useful  members  of  the  community  should  be 
more  exposed  to  deprivation  of  life  by  murder  in  order  that  the 
lives  of  the  murderers  may  be  saved.' 

A  French  Professor  of  Law  put  the  same  idea  pithily,  when  he 
said  that  if  abolition  were  sanctioned  it  should  be  announced 
that — '  henceforth  the  law  in  France  will  guarantee  the  lives  of 
none  but  murderers.' 

An  incidental  justification  of  the  death  penalty 
would  seem  to  be  that,  under  it,  the  newspaper 
hero  of  a  sensational  crime  passes  quickly  into 
oblivion  ;  whereas,  if  he  is  left  in  prison,  his  career 
furnishes  endless  opportunities  for  the  dissemina- 
tion of  unauthentic,  unwholesome,  and  demoraliz- 
ing gossip  in  the  press,  which  makes  a  direct 
appeal  to  the  perverse  imitative  faculty  of  other 
criminals.  Lastly,  it  is  the  opinion  of  Lacassagne, 
and  many  other  observers,  that  the  English  stat- 
istics of  crime  are  probably  the  most  satisfactory 
in  Europe. 

With  a  view  to  securing  a  fair  trial,  and  to 
preventing  mistakes  in  capital  cases,  both  law  and 
custom  in  England  provide  elaborate  safeguards. 
An  accused  person,  after  having  the  charge  against 


CRIMINOLOGY 


311 


him  investigated  successively  by  coroner,  magis- 
trate, and  Grand  Jury,  is  tried  by  Judge  and  Jury, 
when  he  has  the  option  of  giving  evidence  in  his 
own  behalf.  After  conviction  he  can  take  his  case 
to  the  Couit  of  Criminal  Appeal.  If  unsuccessful 
there,  he  can  lay  before  the  Home  Secretary,  either 
in  petition  or  through  his  legal  advisers,  any 
additional  evidence  that  may  not  have  been  forth- 
coming at  his  trial.  Every  scrap  of  evidence  in  his 
favour  is  most  carefully  examined,  and,  if  there 
is  the  slightest  suspicion  of  any  mental  deficiency, 
medical  experts  in  criminal  lunacy  examine  him, 
and  report  to  the  Secretary  of  State  before  a  final 
decision  is  made  to  carry  out  the  sentence  of  the 
law. 

7.  Penal  servitude. — Criminal  offenders,  other 
than  those  who  pay  the  penalty  of  death,  are 
sentenced  in  this  country  either  to  'penal  servi- 
tude,' which  is  mainly  served  in  convict  prisons, 
the  sentences  ranging  from  three  years  to  life  ;  or 
to  '  imprisonment,'  which  is  carried  out  in  local 
prisons  only,  the  sentences  ranging  from  three  days 
to  two  years.  Death  sentences  are  carried  out 
at  local  prisons.  Convicts — that  is  to  say,  those 
sentenced  to  penal  servitude — generally  undergo 
the  first  part  of  their  sentences  in  local  prisons  in 
separate  confinement :  the  remainder  is  served  in 
a  convict  prison,  where  they  work  in  association, 
for  the  most  part  out  of  doors,  though  some  work 
in  shops.  The  length  of  the  period  of  separation 
varies  at  present  from  three  months  to  one,  accord- 
ing to  the  antecedents  of  the  convict.  This  part 
of  the  sentence  is  most  criticized  by  reformers,  as 
being  inhumane  and  likely  to  lead  to  mental 
troubles,  morbid  introspection,  irritation,  and  mis- 
conduct. As  a  matter  of  fact,  results  do  not  bear 
out  this  a  priori  reasoning,  nor  is  the  treatment  as 
severe  as  is  commonly  supposed.  The  Stage  is 
responsible  for  a  good  deal  of  misconception  on  the 
subject.  Although  '  separate '  confinement  is,  for 
controversial  purposes,  called  'solitary,'  the  two 
are  quite  different.  Solitary,  or,  as  it  is  called 
legally,  '  close  confinement,'  is  never  resorted  to 
except  as  a  punishment  for  offences  committed  in 
prison,  and  it  is  ordered  solely  by  the  Governor 
or  superior  authority.  Under  separate  confinement 
a  man  works  in  his  cell  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
day,  but  he  gets  many  reliefs.  He  is  allowed  at 
least  one  hour's  exercise  daily,  attendance  at  one 
chapel  service  on  week  days,  and  generally  two  on 
Sundays ;  he  is  also  unlocked  for  various  sanitary 
services,  and  sometimes  for  school ;  and  he  is  fre- 
quently visited  during  the  day  by  officials — gover- 
nor, chief  warder,  officers  serving  him  with  work, 
meals,  etc.  Further,  he  is  under  careful  medical 
supervision  with  a  view  to  preventing  mental  or 
physical  injury.  The  period  of  separate  confine- 
ment, nevertheless,  is  one  of  the  vexed  questions 
of  prison  treatment  at  present.  Its  effect  is  penal, 
in  so  far  as  the  average  convict  dislikes  it ;  on  the 
other  hand,  it  does  not  seem  to  be  without  advant- 
ages in  the  direction  of  reformation  of  character 
for  those  who  wish  to  profit  by  them.  Introspec- 
tion is  not  necessarily  all  morbid,  and  a  period  of 
seclusion  gives  time  for  reflexion  and  for  a  kind 
of  moral  readjustment,  while  it  affords  many 
opportunities  to  the  chaplain  for  influencing  the 
mind  of  the  prisoner,  away  from  the  distractions 
of  association  with  fellow-prisoners  who  too  often 
urge  him  in  wrong  directions. 

When  this  part  of  his  sentence  is  over,  a  convict 
is  drafted  to  a  convict  prison,  where  he  works  on 
the  land — at  reclaiming,  tilling,  gardening,  quarry- 
ing, etc.  ;  or  at  building,  with  allied  industries ; 
or  in  shops — at  tailoring,  shoemaking,  carpenter- 
ing, printing,  book-binding,  moulding,  fitting,  or 
other  useful  employments.  He  sleeps  and  takes 
his  meals  in  a  separate  cell,  which  is  well  warmed, 


lighted,  and  ventilated.  He  is  warmly  clad,  and 
has  a  very  good  and  ample  plain  diet,  without  any 
canteen  privileges.  His  working  hours  are  much 
shorter  than  those  of  outside  labourers,  and  the 
work,  which  is  not  laborious,  is  very  carefully 
graduated  to  his  physical  capacity,  while  at  the  same 
time  it  is  chosen,  as  far  as  possible,  with  a  view  to 
utilize  any  skill  he  may  have,  so  as  to  fit  him  for 
honest  employment  on  discharge.  His  education, 
both  religious  and  secular,  is  carried  on  by  the 
chaplains  and  schoolmasters,  and  he  has  an  ex- 
cellent supply  of  instructive  and  interesting  books 
to  read.  By  way  of  stimulating  self-help,  he  is 
made  to  pass  through  successive  grades  or  classes, 
by  earning  marks  for  industry  and  good  conduct. . 
Each  step  gained  entitles  him  to  additional  prison 
privileges,  as  well  as  to  a  considerable  money 
gratuity  on  discharge,  and  to  a  remission  of  sentence 
up  to  one  fourth  for  men  and  one  third  for  women. 
On  release,  he  can  avail  himself  of  the  help  of  a 
Discharged  Prisoners'  Aid  Society  to  get  work. 
He  is,  of  course,  kept  under  close  supervision  and 
strict  discipline  ;  but  no  bullying  is  allowed.  Con- 
versation is  prohibited  except  as  a  special  privilege 
at  stated  times  for  exemplary  conduct ;  but  under 
the  conditions  of  associated  out-door  labour  a  good 
deal  of  talking  is  carried  on,  which,  though  not 
recognized,  is  inevitable.  Misconduct  of  any  kind 
renders  him  liable  to  forfeiture  of  the  privileges 
which  he  may  have  already  gained. 

From  this  necessarily  brief  sketch  it  will  be  seen 
that  the  scheme  is  undoubtedly  punitive  in  effect, 
but  it  is  also  reformatory  in  intention.  Strict 
discipline  conduces  to  self-control,  steady  and 
regular  employment  to  the  work-habit,  the  system 
of  progressive  privileges  to  industry,  good  conduct, 
and  self-help ;  while  the  moral  and  educational 
training  tends  to  strengthen  character ;  and  the 
whole  scheme  is  designed  to  fit  the  prisoner  for 
earning  an  honest  living  on  his  release. 

The  latest  device  of  our  penal  system  for  dealing 
with  the  habitual  criminal  is  preventive  detention. 
The  Prevention  of  Crime  Act  (1908)  gives  power 
to  declare  a  man  who  has  been  leading  a  persist- 
ently criminal  life  to  be  an  '  habitual  criminal. ' 
Such  a  person  is  to  be  sent  in  the  first  instance  to 
penal  servitude  for  not  less  than  three  years,  and 
he  may  be  kept  for  a  further  period  of  not  less  than 
five,  or  more  than  ten,  years  in  a  state  of  preventive 
detention  by  order  of  the  Court.  A  special  place 
of  detention  is  to  be  provided,  in  which  more  in- 
dulgences and  privileges  can  be  granted  than  in  a 
convict  prison,  so  as  to  make  the  general  conditions 
of  life  less  onerous,  and  to  foster  habits  of  industry 
and  self-control  in  the  inmates,  and  fit  them  for 
conditional  licence.  This  new  plan  for  dealing 
with  recidivism  is,  in  fact,  a  modification  of  the 
indeterminate  sentence.  So  much  attention  has 
been  given  in  vain  to  the  reclamation  of  the  pro- 
fessional criminal  that  the  step  is  taken  mainly 
for  the  protection  of  society,  though  hopes  are 
entertained  that  he,  too,  may  benefit  under  the 
new  conditions,  with  more  time  available  for  effect- 
ing cures.  Preventive  detention  does  not  come 
actually  into  force  till  1911,  but  responsible  authori- 
ties expect  good  results  from  it,  since  they  have 
advocated  for  years  some  means  of  imposing  a  more 
permanent  kind  of  restraint  on  this  intractable 
class  of  offender.  In  the  United  States  the  indeter- 
minate sentence  and  the  release  on  parole  are 
worked  on  such  liberal  lines  that  many  thoughtful 
Americans  say  serious  crime  is  trifled  with,  under 
the  guise  of  reclamation  ;  while  our  Legislature 
hesitates  to  entrust  the  liberty  of  the  subject,  even 
though  he  be  a  confirmed  criminal,  to  the  discretion 
of  prison  authorities,  who  might  keep  him  for  life. 
Mr.  Grubb  tells  us  that  the  average  term  of  actual 
detention  at  Elmira  is  about  one  and  a  half  years. 


312 


CRIMINOLOGY 


It  certainly  seems  strange  to  us  that  a  dangerous 
burglar,  or  a  coiner,  or  even  a  murderer  of  30 
years  of  age  should  be  set  free,  cured  in  so  short  a 
time,  when  we  require  a  year,  or  two  years,  to  cure 
Borstal  youths  of  16  to  21  years  of  age  under  a 
system  very  similar  to  that  of  Elmira.  If  such 
things  can  be  done  in  America,  we  must  either  have 
much  to  learn  from  them,  or  their  reputed  success 
must  be  doubtful,  or  the  subject  must  be  a  very 
different  one  from  the  British  specimen.  Un- 
fortunately, the  statistics  on  the  question  are  not 
capable  of  verification,  although  undoubtedly  good 
results  are  obtained  in  many  cases.  Meantime  we 
adopt  such  parts  of  the  American  system  as  seem 
suited  to  our  national  requirements. 

8.  Imprisonment. — In  regard  to  punishment  by 
'  imprisonment,'  as  distinguished  from  penal  servi- 
tude, local  prisoners  now  enjoy  many  more  advant- 
ages in  the  matter  of  associated  labour  than  they 
did  when  the  '  separate  '  system  was  established  by 
law  in  1865.  Associated  work  in  shops  or  working 
parties,  under  strict  supervision,  is  now  carried  out 
at  all  local  prisons,  but  out-door  employment, 
except  in  the  grounds,  or  at  officers'  quarters,  is 
limited,  as  the  situation  of  the  prisons  in  or 
near  large  towns  does  not  give  much  scope  for 
actual  labour  on  the  land.  The  term  of  separate 
confinement  for  local  prisoners,  which  had  been 
fixed  at  three  months  by  the  Prison  Act  of  1865, 
was  limited  by  the  Act  of  1877  to  one  month,  and 
is  now  commonly  reduced  to  a  still  shorter  period. 
Very  large  numbers  of  local  prisoners  are  unskilled 
workers,  and  are  under  such  short  sentences  that 
cell  employment  of  some  kind  is  necessary,  unless 
they  are  to  be  kept  in  idleness,  which  is  utterly 
demoralizing.  The  last  Report  of  the  Prison 
Commissioners  shows  that  61  per  cent  of  males 
and  62  per  cent  of  females  were  sentenced  to  two 
weeks  or  less  ;  93  per  cent  of  males  and  97  per  cent 
of  females  to  three  months  or  less  ;  and  only  5  62 
per  cent  of  males  and  191  per  cent  of  females  to 
six  months  and  over.  For  prisoners  with  short 
sentences  the  effect  of  imprisonment  is  probably 
penal  and  deterrent  rather  than  reformatory,  since 
little  in  the  way  of  training  can  be  accomplished 
in  short  periods.  The  low  diet  of  the  short  sentence 
has  a  like  effect,  the  object  being  to  make  the 
lesson  for  a  petty  or  occasional  offender  short  and 
sharp,  so  that  he  may  not  come  back.  A  spell  of 
brief  seclusion  for  this  class  is  surely  a  salutary 
provision.  Local  prisoners  are  housed  in  comfort- 
able and  sanitary  cells  of  700  to  900  cubic  feet,  kept 
at  a  proper  temperature,  and  well  lighted  and 
ventilated.  Daily  exercise  and  chapel  service 
relieve  the  monotony  of  the  cells.  Diet,  which  is 
not  on  so  liberal  a  scale  as  that  of  convicts,  is 
graduated  according  to  length  of  sentence,  and 
is  carefully  adjusted  to  the  physical  requirements 
of  the  prisoners,  while  medical  officers  have  a 
free  hand  in  ordering  extra  food  in  special  cases. 
Like  the  convict,  the  local  prisoner  works  his  way 
through  the  stages  of  a  progressive  system,  earning 
privileges  for  industry  and  good  conduct,  and  for- 
feiting any  he  may  have  already  obtained  if  he 
is  idle  or  breaks  the  rules.  He  can  also  earn 
remission  of  a  part  of  his  sentence  if  it  is  more  than 
a  month ;  but  this,  too,  is  liable  to  forfeiture. 
Secular  instruction  is  given  him  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  chaplains ;  and  religious  ministration 
is  provided  for  by  them  and  by  the  clergy  of  the 
different  denominations  to  which  the  prisoners 
belong.  All  these  regulations  are  subject,  in  their 
working,  to  medical  safeguards  and  restrictions ; 
and  they  are  carried  out  generally  on  liberal  lines, 
so  as  not  to  cause  individual  hardship.  There  is 
a  gradual  relaxation  of  conditions  for  the  well- 
conducted  as  their  sentences  proceed.  Those  con- 
victs who  reach  the  Long  Sentence  Division  at  the 


end  of  ten  years  are  allowed  to  purchase  out  of 
their  gratuity  some  approved  articles  of  extra  diet, 
but  not  alcohol  or  tobacco. 

9.  Borstal  treatment. — The  tendency  of  recent 
legislation  has  been  towards  a  lenient  treatment, 
especially  of  the  young  and  of  first  offenders.  The 
Probation  of  Offenders  Act  gives  power  to  the 
Courts  to  release  the  latter,  and  order  them  to 
come  up  for  judgment  if  called  upon.  The  Chil- 
dren Act  prohibits  all  children  under  14,  and  prac- 
tically all  young  persons  under  16,  from  being  sent 
to  prison  at  all ;  and  the  Prevention  of  Crime  Act 
establishes  a  new  form  of  sentence  and  a  new  type 
of  Institution  for  offenders  between  the  ages  of  16 
and  21.  The  sentence  is  detention  under  penal 
discipline  in  a  Borstal  Institution  for  not  less  than 
one  and  not  more  than  three  years.  This  is  in- 
tended for  those  whom,  by  reason  of  criminal 
habit  or  tendency,  it  is  expedient  to  detain  for 
long  periods  under  such  instruction  and  discipline 
as  appear  most  conducive  to  reformation  and  the 
repression  of  crime.  The  treatment  adopted  in 
these  Borstal  Institutions  closely  resembles  that 
of  Elmira,  already  described.  It  is  based  on  a 
well-devised  scheme  of  moral,  mental,  and  physical 
training,  combined  with  specific  instruction  in  some 
trade  or  skilled  industry  designed  to  fit  the  inmates 
for  honest  living.  Rewards  are  given  for  industry 
and  good  conduct ;  penalties  are  inflicted  chiefly 
by  forfeiture  of  privileges ;  conditional  licence  is 
extended  to  those  who  are  deserving ;  and  work  is 
also  found  for  them  on  discharge  ;  while  an  After- 
Care  Association  of  benevolent  workers  supervises 
them,  and  gives  not  only  encouragement,  but  moral 
and  material  help,  so  as  to  enable  them  to  lead 
useful  lives.  Over  500  youths  are  now  undei 
training ;  and  the  land,  buildings,  and  training- 
ship  of  Feltham  Industrial  School  have  been  pur- 
chased from  the  London  County  Council  for  their 
accommodation.  A  scheme  on  similar  lines  has 
also  been  established  for  girls ;  also  a  modified 
Borstal  treatment  for  youths  in  prison  whose  sen- 
tences are  too  short  to  let  them  have  a  full  course. 
Splendid  results  have  already  been  obtained,  and 
still  better  are  expected  when  the  Institutions  be- 
come firmly  established. 

10.  Habituals  and  vagrants. — From  the  outline 
given  of  our  penal  system,  as  bearing  on  the  general 
subject  of  crime  and  its  punishment,  candid  readers 
will  see  that  it  is  not  unjust  or  unmerciful,  and  that 
it  does  not  sacrifice  the  interests  of  the  criminal  to 
those  of  the  community.  The  general  principles  on 
which  it  is  based  would  seem  to  be  that  it  should 
be  penal  without  being  vindictive,  reformatory 
without  being  demoralizing,  and  deterrent  with- 
out being  inhumane.  Administrators  who  keep  a 
watchful  eye  on  statistics  are  quite  alive  to  its 
weak  points,  in  so  far  as  it  fails  to  reform  or  deter 
certain  classes  of  prisoners.  It  is  notorious  that  it 
does  not  reform  individual  professional  criminals, 
who  come  back  time  after  time  to  prison,  though 
it  reduces  the  numbers  of  this  class  very  consider- 
ably by  cutting  off  the  recruits.  It  is  idle  to  expect 
that  they  will  ever  be  totally  eliminated  ;  but  it  is 
highly  probable  that  the  new  remedy  of  preventive 
detention  will  considerably  limit  their  depreda- 
tions, and  deter  many  from  entering  their  ranks. 
The  system,  again,  seems  to  be  ineffective  with 
vagrants,  who  have  been  increasing  lately  at  the 
rate  of  4000  a  year.  Prison  life  sits  lightly  on  an 
idle  class,  and  measures  of  indulgence  in  the  nature 
of  physical  comfort,  dictated  by  an  exaggerated 
sentimentality,  are  not  likely  to  check  idle  habits. 
Unfortunately,  much  of  our  social  teaching  at 
present  tends  to  encourage  this  evil.  '  To  labour 
truly  to  get  one's  own  living '  has  become  for  many 
persons  a  very  disagreeable  obligation  ;  and  State 
Aid,  which  is  a  popular  panacea  for  social  evils,  is 


CRIMINOLOGY 


313 


too  often  invoked  where  energy  and  self-reliance 
would  be  the  more  manly  remedy ;  while  Society 
is  too  often  called  upon  to  saddle  itself  with  the 
vices  and  follies  of  individuals.  To  a  large  extent 
these  doctrines  would  seem  to  be  responsible  for  an 
idle  spirit  in  our  lower  ranks.  According  to  the 
last  official  returns,  no  fewer  than  33,766  persons 
found  their  way  to  prison  in  1910  for  offences 
against  the  Vagrancy  Acts.  When  it  is  borne  in 
mind  that  several  more  thousands  of  this  idle  class 
are  in  workhouses  and  at  large,  it  will  be  obvious 
that  the  question  of  dealing  with  them  is  becoming 
very  urgent.  No  economic  remedy  for  mere  un- 
employment will  meet  their  ease,  since  the  work- 
habit  in  practically  all  of  them  has  been  lost.  A 
Committee  appointed  in  1905  to  investigate  the 
subject  made  recommendations  that  such  persons 
should  be  dealt  with  otherwise  than  under  the 
Vagrancy  Acts — that  they  should  be  treated,  not 
as  criminals,  but  as  persons  requiring  detention  on 
account  of  their  mode  of  life.  The  object  aimed 
at  is  to  train  and  compel  them  to  do  some  kind 
of  work,  so  as  to  aid  the  solution  of  the  problem 
which  they  themselves  present.  Legislation  is  now 
urgently  wanted  to  carry  these  recommendations 
into  effect. 

ii.  General  results  of  our  penal  system. — Recent 
enactments  in  reference  to  inebriates,  first  offend- 
ers, habituals,  and  youthful  delinquents,  together 
with  the  recommendations  of  committees  for  fur- 
ther legislation  for  weak-minded  prisoners  and 
vagrants,  suffice  to  show  that  our  penal  system 
has  by  no  means  reached  perfection  or  finality. 
But  how  far  has  it  served  its  purpose  in  the  re- 
pression of  crime?  Some  general  considerations 
have  to  be  taken  into  account  in  deciding  this 
question.  We  have  no  trustworthy  data  for  esti- 
mating with  any  approach  to  accuracy  the  sum 
total  of  crime  committed  in  the  country.  Unde- 
tected and  unproved  crime  still  flourishes,  and  we 
can  judge  the  proportion  it  bears  to  detected  crime 
only  by  general  indications.  We  know,  however, 
that  our  methods  of  detection  and  identification  of 
criminals  have  improved,  so  that  it  is  at  least  prob- 
able that  less  crime  goes  undetected  now  than  in 
former  years.  Further,  we  know  that  life  and 
property  are  as  secure  with  us  as  elsewhere,  and 
that  respect  for  human  life  is  certainly  greater  in 
this  country  than  in  most  civilized  countries.  But, 
although  we  can  base  no  conclusions  on  figures 
representing  the  total  criminality  of  our  popula- 
tion, we  have,  in  the  daily  average  population  of 
our  prisons,  a  statistical  basis  for  estimating  com- 
parative progress  or  retrogression.  The  figures  are 
simple  ;  they  have  been  arranged  on  the  same  lines 
since  the  local  prisons  were  handed  over  to  the 
State  in  1878 ;  and  they  include  all  the  proved  crime 
of  the  country,  both  minor  and  grave.  If,  then,  we 
compare  the  daily  average  population  of  the  prisons 
of  England  and  Wales  in  1880  with  that  in  1910, 
we  g<st  the  following  results : 

[England  and  Wales.] 


Year. 

Daily  Average  Population. 

Population 

of 
Country. 

Convicts. 

Local  Prisoners. 

1880     .    . 
1910     .    . 

10,299 
3,189 

19,835 
18,621 

25,708,666 
36,756,616 

The  outstanding  feature  of  these  statistics  is  the 
very  conspicuous  decrease  in  serious  crime  indi- 
cated by  the  fall  in  the  convict  population,  in  the 
proportion  of  ten  to  three,  during  the  last  thirty 
years.    The  general  shortening  of  sentences,  which 


followed  on  the  passing  of  the  Summary  Jurisdic- 
tion Act  in  1879,  accounts  for  a  certain  proportion 
of  this  decrease,  but  cannot  altogether  explain  it 
away,  since  the  missing  convicts  are  not  found  in 
the  local  prison  population,  which  has  also  declined 
considerably,  despite  the  addition  of  many  minor 
offences  to  the  statute  book  since  1880.  If  we  take 
the  two  sets  of  figures — those  of  convicts  and  local 
prisoners — together,  and  place  beside  them  the 
increase  of  ten  millions  in  the  general  population, 
it  will  be  seen  that  the  criminality  of  the  country 
must  have  declined  very  substantially  to  show 
these  results ;  and,  although  we  look  for  still 
better  things  in  the  future,  it  must  be  admitted 
that  our  penal  system  has,  on  the  whole,  served 
us  well.  It  would,  however,  be  very  erroneous  to 
infer  that  the  decrease  of  crime  is  due  solely  to  our 
methods  of  punishment,  although  it  is  also  very 
doubtful  whether  such  marked  decrease  could  take 
place  under  an  inefficient  penal  system.  Social 
progress,  of  course,  accounts  for  much  of  it.  The 
training  and  discipline  of  the  schools  are  conducive 
to  moral  improvement,  self-control,  and  law-abiding 
habits  ;  while  the  steady  progress  of  temperance  is 
probably  one  of  the  most  important  factors  of  all. 
Bank  holidays  have  long  ceased  to  be  carnivals  of 
drunkenness,  and  the  statistics  of  crime  show  a 
steady  decline  in  this  offence. 

12.  Drink. — The  latest  returns  show  that  in  1910 
the  total  number  of  prisoners,  male  and  female, 
received  in  the  prisons  for  drunkenness  had  been 
less  than  the  total  of  1909  by  5852  cases.  These 
figures  are  satisfactory  as  showing  progress,  but 
there  is  still  room  for  much  improvement  in  a  list 
which  reaches  the  enormous  total  of  57,418.  With- 
out any  desire  to  minimize  these  figures,  which 
represent  an  appalling  amount  of  human  misery 
and  degradation,  we  would  point  out  that  much 
misconception  prevails  as  to  the  actual  connexion 
between  drink  and  crime.  Exaggerated  statements 
that  80  or  90  per  cent  of  crime  is  caused  by  drink 
depend  to  a  large  extent  on  the  statistics  of  minor 
crime,  which  do  not  justify  such  sweeping  conclu- 
sions. Many  thousands  of  offences  tried  summarily 
have  no  connexion  with  drink.  It  should  be  re- 
membered that  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect 
existing  between  drink  and  the  major  kind  of 
crime,  which  entails  a  long  sentence,  is  by  no 
means  so  direct  or  clear  as  it  is  in  the  case  of  minor 
crime,  since  drunkenness  is  in  itself  one  of  the 
minor  crimes,  and  one  which  figures  most  promi- 
nently in  the  statistics,  and  is  also  the  exciting 
cause  of  several  such  offences.  The  commission 
of  serious  crime,  on  the  other  hand,  is  very  often 
inconsistent  with  drunken  habits,  which  are  by  no 
means  so  constantly  found  amongst  professional 
criminals  as  amongst  minor  offenders.  None  the 
less,  drink  is,  without  doubt,  both  a  direct  and  an 
indirect  cause  of  all  kinds  of  crime,  and  the  spread 
of  temperance  is  the  most  hopeful  means  we  can 
employ  for  limiting  its  perils.  Although  the  drink 
evil  is  pre-eminently  one  which  is  best  dealt  with 
at  its  source,  and  before  it  attains  large  dimen- 
sions, supplementary  measures,  both  curative  and 
penal,  are  also  necessary  at  the  later  stages.  Here 
our  system  has  been  somewhat  weak  and  ineffec- 
tive. Abuse  of  alcohol  is  certainly  the  most  potent 
factor  known  to  us  in  the  production  of  crime,  and 
yet  the  steps  we  have  hitherto  taken  to  suppress 
this  predominant  cause  of  criminality  have  been 
slow,  unscientific,  and  uncertain.  Up  till  1898, 
when  the  Inebriates  Act  was  passed,  our  measures 
for  dealing  with  drunkenness  were  for  the  most 
part  penal,  and  the  penalties  were  much  the  same 
as  they  had  been  for  fifty  years  previously.  Fines 
and  short  imprisonments  were  the  stock  remedies, 
although  they  had  long  been  known  to  be  practically 
useless.     Occasional  drunkards  were  regarded  too 


314 


CRIOBOLIUM— CRITICISM  (Old  Testament) 


much  in  the  light  of  social  '  sports,'  instead  of 
anti-social  offenders  and  public  nuisances.  An 
attempt  was  made  by  the  Inebriates  Act  to  stem 
the  evil  by  applying  curative  treatment  to  cases 
of  inebriety,  and  placing  them  under  control  and 
medical  care  for  prolonged  periods.  The  intention 
of  the  Act  was  good,  and  it  was  hased  on  scientific 
teaching,  but,  unfortunately,  it  did  not  work  well 
in  practice.  No  legal  obligation  had  been  placed 
on  the  local  authorities,  who  were  expected  to  co- 
operate in  the  scheme,  to  provide  accommodation 
and  maintenance  for  patients,  and  the  Courts  were 
reluctant  to  deprive  of  liberty,  for  the  long  periods 
necessary  for  cure,  any  persons  except  the  most 
confirmed  inebriates.  These,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  quickly  relapsed  into  their  former  habits 
on  discharge,  and  the  Act  was  thereby  discredited. 
For  those  who  were  less  confirmed  in  drinking 
habits,  and  who  might  have  gained  benefit  from 
the  Act,  it  became  a  dead  letter.  The  liberty  of 
the  subject  in  their  case  amounted  to  liberty  to 
ruin  themselves,  and  to  inflict  trouble,  anxiety,  and 
expense  on  their  friends.  Further,  disputes  arose 
between  the  local  authorities  and  the  Treasury  as 
to  the  cost  of  maintaining  the  Homes,  which  led 
to  further  deadlock.  A  Committee  of  Inquiry  has 
already  recommended  that,  in  order  to  meet  these 
difficulties,  the  State  should  take  over  the  control 
of  the  Homes.  Whether  or  not  this  proposal  be 
carried  out,  the  Act  requires  stiffening  in  some 
way,  if  it  is  to  fulfil  its  object.  The  occasional 
drunkard  also  needs  more  attention.  If  he  is  to 
be  restrained  from  drifting  into  the  habitual  class 
before  his  will-power  disappears  under  continued 
indulgence,  cumulative  penalties  must  be  dealt  out 
to  him  more  freely,  and  the  risk  of  becoming  an 
inebriate  under  the  Act  must  be  constantly  kept 
before  his  eyes. 

Literature.— H.  Havelock  Ellis,  The  Criminal*,  London, 
1901;  W.  D.  Morrison,  Juvenile  Offenders,  London,  1896; 
A.  Cleveland  Hall,  Crime  in  its  relation  to  Social  Progress, 
New  York,  1902 ;  C.  Richmond  Henderson,  Introduction  to 
the  Study  of  Dependent,  Defective,  and  Delinquent  Classes  and 
their  Social  Treatment*,  Boston,  1901;  C.  E.  B.  Russell,  Young 
Gaol  Birds,  London,  1910 ;  The  Criminology  Series  (London, 
1895  fL),  ed.  W.  D.  Morrison  [comprises  translations  of  works 
on  this  subject  by  Lombroso,  Ferri,  Proal,  etc.] ;  G.  L.  Duprat, 
La  CriminaliU  dans  Vadolescence,  Paris,  1909 ;  G.  Tarde,  La 
Philosophic  ptnale*,  Paris,  1903;  X.  Francotte,  L' Anthropo- 
logic criminelle,  Paris,  1891 ;  A.  Baer,  Der  Verbrecher  in 
anthropologischer  Beziehung,  Leipzig,  1893 ;  H.  Kurella, 
Naturgeschichte  des  Verbrechers,  Stuttgart,  1893 ;  C.  Lom- 
broso, L'Uomo  delinquente,  Turin,  1876 (several  editions  since); 
R.  Garofalo,  La  Criminologie,  Paris,  1888 ;  E.  Ferri,  La 
Sociologia  criminous,  Turin,  1900. 

R.  F.  Quinton. 

CRIOBOLIUM.— Like  the  taurobolium  (wh. 
see)  the  criobolium  was  a  sacrifice  performed  in 
connexion  with  the  worship  of  the  Great  Mother 
of  the  Gods  and  Attis,  with  the  difference  that  the 
victim  was  a  ram  instead  of  a  bull,  and  was  slain 
in  honour  of  Attis.  When  the  criobolium  was 
given  in  conjunction  with  the  taurobolium,  the 
altar  was,  with  rare  exceptions,  inscribed  to  both 
deities  ;  whereas,  when  the  taurobolium  alone  was 
given,  the  inscription  was  usually  to  the  Mother 
only,  though  symbolic  decorations  on  the  altar 
even  then  often  indicated  the  participation  of 
Attis. 

Unlike  the  taurobolium,  which,  if  not  an  original 
feature  of  the  worship  of  the  Great  Mother  in 
Asia,  was  borrowed  by  her  priesthood  at  Rome 
from  the  Cappadocian  religions  which  were  brought 
there  in  the  early  2nd  cent.  A.D.,  the  criobolium 
seems  to  have  been  a'  special  sacrifice  instituted 
after  the  rise,  and  on  the  analogy,  of  the  tauro- 
bolium, for  the  purpose  of  giving  fuller  recognition 
to  the  duality  of  the  Great  Mother  and  Attis,  which 
had  recently  become  more  prominent  through  the 
rise  of  Attis  to  greater  importance.  There  is  no- 
thing to  indicate  its  existence  either  in  Asia  or.  in 


Italy  before  its  first  celebration  in  honour  of  the 
Mother  and  Attis. 

In  the  absence  of  direct  evidence,  we  may  sup- 
pose the  criobolium  to  have  been  similar  to  the 
taurobolium  both  in  details  of  ceremony  and  in 
spiritual  effect.  Its  celebration  was  wide-spread, 
and  its  importance  such  that  it  could  be  an  alterna- 
tive to  the  taurobolium  (CIL  vi.  505,  506),  though 
the  latter  was  held  in  greater  esteem.  It  was 
inevitable  that  the  ancients  should  draw  a  com- 
parison between  the  pagan  doctrine  of  purification 
and  regeneration  through  the  taurobolium  and 
criobolium  and  the  Christian  doctrine  of  redemp- 
tion through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  (Firmicus 
Maternus,  de  Error.  27-28). 
Literature. — See  references  under  Taurobolium. 

Grant  Showerman. 

CRITICISM  (Old  Test.).— Criticism  is  the  art 
of  estimating  the  qualities  of  literary  or  artistic 
work.  M.  Arnold  defined  it  as  'a  disinterested 
endeavour  to  learn  and  propagate  the  best  that  is 
known  and  thought  in  the  world'  (Ess.  Crit.  i.  38). 
It  is  not  to  be  mistaken  for  censure  or  dispraise — ■ 
the  expression  of  hostile  or  unfavourable  opinions. 
Realizing  that  the  word  verges  on  this  adverse 
significance,  Pater  and  others  have  preferred  to 
speak  of  literary  '  appreciations ' ;  and  certainly 
the  true  Bible  critic  desires  chiefly  to  share  his 
admiration  with  his  reader.  But  '  criticism '  and 
the  allied  terms  should  be  used  without  prejudice, 
to  signify  the  effort  of  the  mind  to  see  things  as 
they  are,  to  appraise  literature  at  its  true  worth, 
to  judge  the  records  of  men's  thoughts  and  deeds 
impartially,  without  obtrusion  of  personal  likes  or 
dislikes.  In  distinction  from  'lower '  (a  •  term 
seldom  used),  or  textual,  criticism,  which  aims  at 
ascertaining  the  genuine  text  and  meaning  of  an 
author,  '  higher '  (a  term  apparently  first  used  by 
Eichhorn),  or  historical,  criticism  seeks  to  answer  a 
series  of  questions  affecting  the  composition,  edit- 
ing, and  collection  of  the  Sacred  Books.  The 
higher  critic's  task  is  to  show  how  the  ideas  of  any 
particular  writing  are  related  to  the  environment 
m  which  they  grew,  to  the  spirit  of  the  age,  to  the 
life  of  the  people,  to  the  march  of  events,  and  to  the 
kindred  literary  productions  of  other  times  or,  it 
may  be,  of  other  lands.  It  is  a  scientific  method 
of  'searching  the  Scriptures.'  It  substitutes  the 
inductive  for  the  a  priori  mode  of  inquiry,  observa- 
tion and  experiment  for  tradition  and  dogma.  It 
is  a  new  application  of  the  Socratic  principle  that 
an  unexamined  life — of  man  or  book — is  not  worth 
living. 

The  critical  movement,  which  has  shed  a  flood  of 
light  on  the  OT,  and  given  the  Church  a  new  and 
more  human  conception  of  the  mode  of  revelation, 
did  not  begin  till  the  middle  of  the  18th  century. 
The  traditional  view  of  the  composition  of  the 
Sacred  Scriptures  was  a  bequest  from  the  Jewish 
to  the  Christian  Church,  which  no  one  ever  thought 
of  closely  examining.  There  were,  indeed,  a  few 
sporadic  attempts  at  literary  criticism,  which  ran 
counter  to  the  received  opinion.  Theodore  of 
Mopsuestia  relegated  some  of  the  '  Psalms  of  David ' 
— such  as  the  51st,  65th,  and  127th — to  the  period  of 
the  Exile.  Ibn  Ezra,  the  acutest  Jewish  scholar 
of  the  Middle  Ages  (1070-1138),  detected  a  number 
of  anachronisms  in  the  Pentateuch,  but  advised 
the  reader  who  understood  these  things  to  be  dis- 
creet and  hold  his  tongue.  Luther  was  a  fearless 
critic  of  both  the  OT  and  the  NT.  He  asked  what 
it  would  matter  if  Moses  was  not  the  author  of  the 
Pentateuch ;  he  saw  that  the  Book  of  Kings  was 
more  credible  than  that  of  Chronicles  ;  he  surmised 
that  some  of  the  Prophetic  books  received  their 
final  form  from  redactors  ;  and  he  would  have  pre- 
ferred if  the  First  Book  of  Maccabees  instead  of 
Esther  had  been  included  in  the  Canon.    Spinoza's 


CRITICISM  (Old  Testament) 


315 


philosophical  acumen  anticipated  not  a  few  of  the 
modern  critical  results.  '  Ex  his  omnibus,'  he  says, 
'  luce  meridiana  clarius  apparet,  Pentateuchum 
non  a  Mose,  sed  ab  alio  et  qui  a  Mose  multis  post 
saeculis  vixit,  scriptum  fuisse'  (Tract,  theol.-polit. 
vii.).  Richard  Simon,  the  French  Oratorian,  ob- 
served some  double  accounts  of  events  in  the 
Pentateuch,  and  suggested  a  diversity  of  author- 
ship. But  the  critical  opinions  of  these  and  other 
individual  writers  were  mere  obiter  dicta,  whicli 
made  little  impression  upon  the  mind  of  the  Church, 
and  never  disturbed  her  dogmatic  slumber.  They 
inaugurated  no  critical  movement. 

It  was  reserved  for  one  who  was  neither  a  scholar 
nor  a  theologian,  but  a  man  of  science,  the  French- 
man and  court-physician  Jean  Astruc,  to  discover 
the  critical  secret,  and  to  forge  the  novum  organum 
which  was  '  to  destroy  and  to  overthrow,  to  build 
and  to  plant.'  His  study  of  the  Pentateuch  was 
the  parergon  of  a  busy  hfe  chiefly  devoted  to  the 
writing  of  books  in  his  own  special  department, 
and  his  supreme  merit  was  that  he  brought  to  the 
search  of  the  Scriptures  a  mind  thoroughly  trained 
in  the  methods  of  science.  In  this  pioneer  work  he 
left  a  perfect  example  for  the  imitation  of  all  his 
followers.  As  a  devout  Catholic  believer — he 
takes  his  readers  into  his  confidence  in  a  beautiful 

Ereface — he  refrained  for  a  while  from  publishing 
is  book,  fearing  that  he  might,  much  against  his 
will,  put  a  weapon  into  the  hands  of  the  free- 
thinkers— les  esprits  forts — of  his  time.  He  could 
not  doubt,  however,  that  his  discovery  would 
serve  to  remove  some  serious  difficulties  from  the 
pages  of  Scripture,  and  in  his  seventieth  year  he 
was  constrained  to  give  his  book  to  the  world 
(1753).  The  very  title  of  the  work  at  once  gave 
expression  to  the  characteristic  modesty  of  a  true 
seeker  after  truth.  He  merely  offered  Conjectures 
stir  les  mimoires  originaux  dont  it  paroit  que  Moyse 
s'est  servi  pour  composer  le  livre  de  la  Genise.  He 
did  not  know  whether  they  would  be  accepted  or 
rejected,  but  in  either  case  nothing  could  ever  alter 
his  'love  of  Truth  and  of  Religion.'  It  is  worth 
while  to  state  his  argument  in  his  own  words — here 
slightly  abridged. 

'  In  the  Hebrew  text  of  Genesis,  God  is  designated  by  two 
different  names.  The  first  is  Elohim,  for,  while  this  name  has 
other  meanings  in  Hebrew,  it  is  especially  applied  to  the 
Supreme  Being.  The  other  is  Jehovah,  rnn\  the  great  name  of 
God,  expressing  his  essence.  Now  one  might  suppose  that  the 
two  names  were  used  indiscriminately  as  synonymous  terms, 
merely  to  lend  variety  to  the  style.  This,  however,  would  be 
an  error.  The  names  are  never  intermixed  ;  there  are  whole 
chapters,  or  large  parts  of  chapters,  in  which  God  is  always 
called  Elohim,  and  others,  at  least  as  numerous,  in  which  he  is 
always  named  Jehovah.  If  Moses  were  the  author  of  Genesis, 
we  should  have  to  ascribe  this  strange  and  harsh  variation  to 
himself.  But  can  we  conceive  such  negligence  in  the  composi- 
tion of  so  short  a  book  as  Genesis  ?  Shall  we  impute  to  Moses  a 
fault  such  as  no  other  writer  has  committed  ?  Is  it  not  more 
natural  to  explain  this  variation  by  supposing  that  Genesis  was 
composed  of  two  or  three  memoirs,  the  authors  of  which  gave 
different  names  to  God,  one  using  that  of  Elohim,  another  that 
of  Jehovah  or  Jehovah  Elohim?1 

That  Astruc  was  conscious  of  leading  the  students 
of  Scripture  into  untrodden  paths  is  proved  by  the 
motto  from  Lucretius  (i.  926  f. ),  which  he  put  on  his 
title-page : 

'  Aria  Pieridum  peragro  loca,  nullius  ante 
Trita  solo.' 
In  the  500  pages  of  his  book  he  carried  his  critical 
analysis  through  the  whole  of  Genesis  and  the 
beginning  of  Exodus,  as  far  as  the  point  where  the 
distinction  of  Divine  names  appears  to  cease  (Ex  6). 
He  discovered  some  passages  which  he  could  not 
attribute  either  to  the  Elohist  or  the  Jahwist. 
He  displayed  his  results  by  arranging  the  whole 
text  in  four  parallel  columns.  His  attempt  had 
the  inevitable  defects  of  all  pioneer  work,  and  lie 
was  far  from  dogmatizing  as  to  the  details  of  his 
criticism.  But,  with  a  true  scientist's  confidence 
at  once  in  the  precision  of  his  methods  and  in  the 


general  accuracy  of  his  conclusions,  he  wrote  at  the 
end  of  his  prefatory  exposition  : 

'  So  we  must  either  renounce  all  pretence  of  ever  proving  any. 
thing  in  any  critical  question,  or  else  agree  that  the  proof  which 
the  combination  of  these  facts  affords  amounts  to  a  complete 
demonstration  of  the  theory  of  the  composition  of  Genesis  which 
I  have  propounded.' 

Astruc's  Conjectures  received  but  a  cold  welcome 
in  his  own  Catholic  communion.  No  single  com  - 
patriot  of  his  inherited  the  critical  mantle,  and  it 
was  destined  to  be  the  work  of  a  long  succession  of 
patient  German  scientific  theologians  to  continue 
and  complete  the  process  of  literary  analysis  which 
the  brilliant  Frenchman  had  begun.  The  great 
Hebraist  Eichhom  came  to  know  Astruc's  theory 
at  second-hand,  and  deliberately  refrained  from 
reading  the  book  till  he  had  independently,  and 
still  more  thoroughly,  gone  over  the  same  ground, 
with  the  same  general  results.  He  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  finding  a  good  many  criteria  besides  the 
Divine  names  to  differentiate  the  original  docu- 
ments, and,  instead  of  pausing  at  the  beginning  of 
Exodus,  he  carried  his  investigations  to  the  end  of 
the  Pentateuch,  expressing  the  opinion — long  since 
antiquated — that  the  last  four  books  were  compiled 
from  separate  writings  of  Moses  and  some  of  his 
contemporaries.  Eichhorn's  results  were  published 
in  an  Einlcit.  in  das  AT  (1783),  and,  as  he  had 
some  of  his  friend  Herder's  gift  of  style  and  love  of 
the  Bible  as  literature,  his  book  made  almost  as 
profound  an  impression  on  his  age  as  Wellhausen's 
Prolegomena  has  made  on  ours. 

The  only  contribution  which  Britain  offered  to 
the  solution  of  the  critical  problem  in  its  earliest 
phase  was  the  work  of  Alexander  Geddes,  a  Scottish 
priest,  educated  in  Paris,  where  he  had  had  the 
privilege  of  studying  Hebrew  at  the  Sorbonne. 
His  Holy  Bible  faithfully  translated  from  corrected 
Texts  of  the  Originals,  with  Various  Readings,  Ex- 
planatory Notes,  and  Critical  Remarks  (1792),  fol- 
lowed by  a  separate  work  entitled  Critical  Remarks 
on  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  (1800),  gives  vigorous  ex- 
pression to  his  views.  He  was  a  remarkable  man 
and  no  mean  scholar,  who  certainly  deserves  to 
be  remembered  among  the  pioneers  of  criticism ; 
but  by  excess  of  zeal — the  perfervidum  ingenium 
Scotorum — he  led  criticism  astray,  and  tended  on 
the  whole  to  discredit  the  movement.  Scorning 
the  timid  theory  of  Astruc  and  Eichhorn, — that 
Moses  used  only  two  fundamental  documents  in  the 
composition  of  Genesis, — helaunched  the  hypothesis 
that  the  whole  Pentateuch  was  nothing  but  a  col- 
lection of  loose  scraps,  of  various  age  and  worth, 
probably  compiled  in  the  time  of  Solomon.  He 
had  no  difficulty  in  pointing  out  an  immense  num- 
ber of  these  originally  independent  fragments,  in 
the  conjunction  of  which  he  saw  no  orderly  plan  or 
leading  motive.  He  thus  became  the  author  of  the 
'  Fragment  Hypothesis,'  which  was  introduced 
into  Germany  by  Vater,  who  translated  or  para- 
phrased a  large  part  of  Geddes's  Critical  Remarks. 
Vater  thought  the  Book  of  Genesis  was  composed 
of  thirty-nine  fragments.  The  theory  made  much 
noise  for  a  time,  but  received  its  death-blow  at  the 
hands  of  the  greatest  OT  scholar  of  last  century, 
Heinrich  Ewald  of  Gottingen,  in  his  Die  Composi- 
tion der  Genesis  kritisch  untersucht,  which  he  wrote 
when  he  was  a  youth  of  nineteen  (1823).  Geddes's 
opinions  cost  him  his  priestly  office.  Aberdeen 
consoled  him  with  a  doctorate  of  laws. 

Meanwhile  a  real  and  important  advance,  from 
which  there  have  been  nulla  vestigia  retrorsum, 
was  made  by  Ilgen,  Eichhorn's  successor  at  Jena. 
This  fine  scholar — who  afterwards  acquired  a 
scholastic  fame  similar  to  that  of  Arnold  of  Rugby 
— detected  the  presence  of  two  writers  in  Genesis, 
each  with  an  unmistakable  style  of  his  own,  who 
habitually  use  the  Divine  name  Elohim.  This 
discovery  did  not  receive  much  attention  at  the 


316 


CRITICISM  (Old  Testament) 


time  of  its  publication  (1798),  and  it  was  not  till 
it  -was  independently  made  again  by  Hupfeld, 
more  than  half  a  century  afterwards,  that  its 
significance  was  recognized  by  the  foremost  scholars 
of  Germany.  It  is  now  accepted  as  one  of  the 
assured  results  of  criticism.  As  the  second  Elohist 
is  devoted  to  the  ideas  and  institutions  of  the 
Levitical  system,  he  is  usually  known  as  the 
'  Priestly  Writer,'  while  the  name  '  Elohist '  is 
reserved  for  the  earlier  author,  who,  like  the 
Jahwist,  is  more  akin  to  the  prophets. 

Still  another  step  in  advance  was  taken  at  Jena, 
this  time  by  one  of  Ilgen's  most  brilliant  pupils. 
As  a  candidate  for  the  doctor's  degree  (in  1805), 
de  Wette  presented  a  Dissertatio  Critica  on  the 
Book  of  Deuteronomy,  which  proved  to  be  epoch- 
making.  He  argued,  from  the  individual  qualities 
of  style  and  the  definite  circle  of  ideas  which  he 
observed  in  this  book,  that  it  stands  by  itself, 
distinct  in  origin  and  purpose  from  the  rest  of  the 
Pentateuch  ;  and  he  identified  it  with  the  law-book 
which  was  at  once   the  manifesto  and  the  pro- 

framme  of  the  reforming  party  in  the  reign  of 
osiah  (621  B.C.).  This  brilliant  theory  brought 
the  critical  movement  for  the  first  time  into  direct 
contact  with  Israel's  national  history.  It  shed  an 
intense  light  upon  the  record  of  a  great  spiritual 
crisis.  Criticism  thus  ceased  to  be  merely  literary, 
and  became  the  handmaid  of  the  history  of  religion. 
De  Wette's  hypothesis  has  now  been  tested  by  the 
scholarship  of  a  century,  and  Deuteronomy  is 
universally  regarded  as  the  key  to  the  interpreta- 
tion of  the  spiritual  evolution  of  Israel. 

Attention  was  next  directed  to  the  Book  of 
Joshua,  which  the  Jewish  canon  sharply  separates 
from  the  Pentateuch  and  places  at  the  head  of  the 
'  Former  Prophets.'  Already,  in  1792,  Geddes  had 
joined  it  to  the  Pentateuch,  regarding  it  as  '  com- 
piled by  the  same  author.'  Careful  and  minute 
investigation  convinced  de  Wette  and  Bleek  that 
this  procedure  was  correct.  The  real  affinities  of 
Joshua  are  with  the  writings  which  precede,  not 
with  those  which  follow,  it.  Of  the  '  Five  Books  of 
Moses '  it  forms  the  necessary  continuation  and 
completion,  taking  up  the  various  threads  of  the 
narrative  and  recording  how  the  promises  were 
fulfilled  and  the  laws  enforced.  Subsequent  criti- 
cism has  confirmed  this  view,  by  proving  that  each 
of  the  Pentateuchal  documents,  with  its  favourite 
phrases  and  formulae,  reappears  in  the  Book  of 
Joshua.  Hence  it  is  now  the  established  practice 
to  speak  and  write  of  the  Hexateuch,  or  '  Six  Books ' 
{revxos,  '  a  weapon, '  being  post- Alexandrian  Greek 
for  a  book),  instead  of  the  Pentateuch. 

For  the  next  half  century  there  was  one  inspir- 
ing name  which  dominated  the  study  of  the  OT. 
Wellhausen,  who  dedicated  his  Prolegomena  '  to 
my  unforgotten  teacher,  Heinrich  Ewald,  with 
gratitude  and  honour,'  was  one  out  of  many  who 
felt  the  spell  of  this  scholar's  genius.  It  must  be 
admitted,  however,  that  Ewald  lent  his  authority 
to  a  hypothesis  which  for  a  considerable  time 
retarded  rather  than  furthered  the  progress  of 
criticism.  He  began  where  Astruc  and  Eichhorn 
left  off,  and  neglected  Ilgen's  discovery  of  the  two 
Elohists.  Regarding  an  undivided  Elohist  docu- 
ment, which  he  called  the  '  Book  of  Origins,'  as 
the  '  groundwork '  of  the  Hexateuch,  and  finding 
its  unmistakable  ideals  and  formulas  giving  order 
and  unity  to  the  whole  structure,  he  maintained 
that  the  Jahwist  sections  were  merely  added  to 
supplement  the  work'  of  the  Elohist.  This  was  the 
famous  '  Supplement  Hypothesis.'  Defended  by 
Bleek,  Schrader,  and  many  other  scholars,  it  was 
viewed  for  long  as  the  citadel  of  criticism  ;  but  it 
could  not  permanently  stand  the  cross-fire  to 
which  it  was  subjected,  and  it  has  now  no  more 
than  a  historical  interest. 


In  1834,  Eduard  Reuss  was  lecturing  on  OT 
theology  at  Strassburg,  and  applying  his  strong, 
keen  intelligence  to  the  critical  problem,  which  he 
approached  from  the  historical  rather  than  from  the 
literary  side.  He  found  it  psychologically  incon- 
ceivable that  a  nation  should  begin  its  history  with 
a  fully  developed  code  of  laws.  He  thought  it 
inexplicable  that  a  whole  succession  of  prophets 
should  ignore  their  country's  laws,  which  they  of 
all  men  ought  to  have  reverenced.  How  was  he  to 
solve  the  enigma  ?  The  critical  movement,  at  the 
point  which  it  had  then  reached,  did  not  help  him 
much,  for  Deuteronomy  was  the  only  book  of  the 
OT,  apart  from  the  Prophets,  which  had  yet  been 
replaced  in  the  historical  environment  out  of  which 
it  grew.  Keuss's  problem  was  to  determine  the 
age  and  origin  of  the  '  Law  of  Moses '  and  the 
'Psalms  of  David.'  The  answer  came  to  him,  as 
he  told  long  afterwards,  rather  as  an  intuition  than 
as  the  result  of  a  careful  and  exhaustive  investiga- 
tion. It  was  this — that  in  the  true  historical 
sequence  the  Prophets  are  earlier  than  the  Law, 
and  the  Psalms  later  than  both.  In  the  following 
year  (1835)  practically  the  same  theory  was  in- 
dependently propounded  by  Vatke  in  his  Bibl. 
Theol.  missenschaftlich  dargestellt,  and  by  George 
in  his  Die  dlteren  jild.  Feste.  If  neither. of  these 
books  commanded  any  great  attention,  the  reason 
was  that  they  were  too  theoretical.  They  did  not 
present  a  thorough  analysis  of  the  language  and 
ideas  of  the  Books  of  Scripture.  Vatke's  work 
was,  indeed,  a  very  remarkable  instance  of  the 
successful  application  of  Hegelian  principles  to  the 
study  of  a  national  and  literary  development.  But 
it  was  intended  only  for  the  initiated,  who  were 
sealed  of  the  tribe  of  Hegel.  The  author  warned 
off  the  very  threshold  of  his  book  all  who  did  not 
understand  the  master's  terminology.  Reuss,  who 
tried  to  read  it  and  failed,  deferred  the  publication 
of  his  own  conclusions  for  nearly  half  a  century. 
His  L'Histoire  sainte  et  la  loi  appeared  only  in  1879, 
andhis  Geschichteder Schrii 'ten des AT In  1881.  One 
of  his  most  brilliant  pupils,  K.  H.  Graf,  professor 
at  Leipzig,  had  forestalled  him  by  a  dozen  years  in 
his  Geschichtl.  BiXcher  des  AT  (1866),  and  conse- 
quently the  theory  is  known  to  all  the  world  as 
the  '  Grafian  Hypothesis.' 

Hupfeld,  one  of  the  eminent  Hebraists  of  Halle, 
where  he  was  the  successor  of  Gesenius,  brought  a 
fresh  mind  to  the  problem  of  the  literary  composi- 
tion of  Genesis,  and  was  rewarded  with  more  suc- 
cess than  almost  any  previous  scholar.  Indeed,  it 
was  he  who  most  nearly  read  the  riddle  of  the 
sphinx,  and  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  his  book, 
Die  Quellen  der  Genesis  (1853),  was  published 
exactly  a  century  after  the  famous  Conjectures  of 
Astruc.  Having  shaken  off  the  obsession  of 
Ewald's  'Supplement  Hypothesis,'  he  had  the 
good  fortune  to  repeat  Ilgen's  almost  forgotten 
discovery  of  the  two  distinct  Elohist  writers  in  the 
Pentateuch.  He  laid  bare  the  work  of  the  Priestly 
Writer  (the  second  Elohist).  He  demonstrated 
the  close  affinity  of  the  first  Elohist  to  the  Jahwist, 
and  the  wide  difference  between  both  and  the 
writer  of  the  Grundschrift.  Under  his  spell  each 
of  these  ancient  writers  seemed  to  come  forth  a 
living  personality,  with  a  style  which  revealed  the 
man.  He  showed  that  the  additions  by  which  J 
was  alleged  to  have  supplemented  P  were  often 
entirely  out  of  harmony  with  the  latter's  circle  of 
ideas.  His  own  theory  was  that  the  productions 
of  three  originally  independent  writers  (now  known 
as  J,  E,  and  P)  were  at  length  combined  by  an 
editor,  who — fortunately  for  us — left  his  sources 
much  as  he  found  them,  being  content  to  establish 
a  merely  superficial  unity. 

The  literary  problem  of  the  authorship  of  the 
Hexateuch  was  thus  solved.     But  the  vitally  im- 


CRITICISM  (Old  Testament) 


317 


portant  historical  question  of  the  date  of  the  several 
writers,  and  of  their  relations  to  the  other  authors 
of  the  OT,  still  left  much  work  to  do.  Graf,  as  we 
have  seen,  was  inspired  by  the  teaching  of  Reuss, 
and  developed  his  master  s  theory  (op.  cit.  supra). 
Taking  the  date  of  the  publication  of  Deuteronomy 
(621  B.C.)  as  his  first  starting-point,  he  worked 
backwards  and  forwards  from  it.  By  careful  com- 
parisons he  proved  that  D  is,  on  the  one  hand, 
much  more  fully  developed  than  the  law-book — ■ 
small  in  size  but  great  in  value — known  as  the 
'Book  of  the  Covenant'  (Ex  2CF-23),  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  much  less  fully  developed  than  the 
Priestly  Code.  The  inference  was  inevitable  that 
these  three  strata  of  legislation  belong  to  three 
widely  separated  ages.  The  Priestly  Code,  how- 
ever, is  partly  historical,  partly  legal,  and  Graf 
felt  constrained  to  divorce  these  two  elements, 
ascribing  the  historical  to  a  pre-exilic,  and  the 
legal  to  a  post-exilic  date,  with  some  centuries 
between  them.  But  this  part  of  his  theory  com- 
mended itself  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left 
wing.  As  the  Priestly  Code  is  a  compact  and 
indivisible  whole,  and  as  the  style  of  its  narrative 
portions  differs  in  no  way  from  the  style  of  its  legal 
sections,  it  must  as  a  whole  be  either  pre-exilic  or 
post-exilic.  Now,  this  was  one  important  question 
as  to  which  the  most  eminent  critics  remained  for 
a  while  divided  among  themselves.  Nbldeke, 
Riehm,  and  Dillmann  were  on  the  one  side  ;  Reuss, 
Kayser,  and  ultimately  Graf  himself,  on  the  other. 
Then  came  a  new  generation  of  scholars,  with 
Duhm,  Kuenen,  and  Wellhausen  at  their  head, 
who  vigorously  attacked  the  problem  once  more, 
and  almost  unanimously  declared  in  favour  of  the 
post-exilic  theory,  thereupon  proceeding  to  adjust 
their  conceptions  of  the  whole  OT  literature  and 
history  to  this  revolutionary  conclusion. 

Duhm  in  his  Theol.  der  Propheten  (1875)  chose  a 
new  point  of  view.  The  work  of  the  prophets  gave 
him  the  sure  historical  vantage-ground  from  which 
he  could  look  both  before  and  after,  and  a  keen 
scrutiny  of  all  the  conditions  of  the  problem  con- 
vinced him  that  the  phenomenon  of  prophecy  is 
independent  of  every  Mosaic  law  but  the  moral  law 
written  in  the  heart.  To  him  the  great  prophets 
are  not  the  children  of  the  Law,  but  the  inspired 
creators  of  the  religion  of  Israel.  Prophecy  is  the 
supreme  initial  fact  which  transcends  explanation. 
The  Levitical  system,  which  gave  the  death-blow 
to  prophecy  in  the  post-exilic  age,  could  never  have 
been  its  nursing-mother  in  earlier  times.  The 
inner  expansion  of  the  prophetic  spirit  nowhere 
requires  the  Law  for  its  explanation  or  illustration. 
The  traditional  succession  —  Mosaism,  Prophecy, 
Judaism — cannot,  therefore,  be  maintained.  Juda- 
ism is  not  a  mere  revival  of  antiquity  ;  it  is  a  new 
fact.  The  post-exilic  poems  sung  in  fervent  praise 
of  the  Law  have  a  freshness  of  feeling  which  be- 
tokens something  other  than  an  artificial  restora- 
tion. On  the  assumption  that  Ezra,  working  on 
the  basis  of  Ezekiel,  was  the  real  creator  of  Juda- 
ism, everything  becomes  clear.  While  the  whole 
previous  history  of  Israel,  internal  and  external, 
can  be  traced  out  independently  of  the  Priestly 
legislation,  the  whole  subsequent  history  is  just  the 
history  of  the  Law.  The  study  of  the  Prophets 
thus  proves  that  the  Grafian  hypothesis  is  both 
psychologically  and  historically  superior  to  the 
traditional  one.  For  it  is  less  likely,  as  Kuenen 
says,  'that  the  so-called  " Grundschrift "  dropped 
from  the  sky  some  few  centuries  before  any  one 
wanted  it  .  .  .  than  that  it  grew  up  in  its  own 
historical  environment  when  its  hour  had  come' 
(Histor.-Crit.  Inquiry,  etc.,  Eng.  tr.  1886,  p. 
xxxvii  f.). 

Wellhausen's  Gesch.  Israels  appeared  in  1878, 
and  of  its  reception  in  Germany  Pfleiderer  says  : 


1  The  arguments  for  the  new  hypothesis,  derived  from  the 
parallel  development  of  law,  ritual,  and  literature,  were  exhibited 
with  such  cogency  that  the  impression  produced  on  German 
theologians  (especially  of  the  younger  generation)  was  almost 
irresistible.  ...  It  was  a  special  merit  in  Wellhausen's  book  to 
have  excited  interest  in  these  questions  outside  the  narrow  circle 
of  specialists  by  its  skilful  handling  of  the  materials  and  its 
almost  perfect  combination  of  wide  historical  considerations 
with  the  careful  investigation  of  details,   and  to  have  thus 


removed  OT  criticism  from  the  rank  of  a  subordinate  question 
to  the  centre  of  theolog 
Eng.  tr.  1890,  p.  259). 


to  the  centre  of  theological  discussion  '  (Development 


ate  qu 
o/Th. 


eology, 


Kuenen  was  perhaps  justified  in  regarding 
the  publication  of  Wellhausen's  book  '  as  the 
"crowning  fight"  in  the  long  campaign'  [op.  cit. 
p.  xxxix).  The  work  of  criticism  was  not  yet 
ended.  But,  at  any  rate,  its  methods  were  vindi- 
cated, and  its  main  results  assured.  The  subse- 
quent history  of  the  critical  movement  is,  therefore, 
outward  rather  than  inward,  supplying  matter  for 
an  interesting  chapter  of  general  Church  History, 
a  record  of  the  spread  of  criticism  to  one  country 
after  another,  of  the  opening  of  the  doors  of  colleges 
and  schools  to  critical  teaching,  and  of  the  gradual 
leavening  of  the  modern  mind  with  a  new  concep- 
tion of  the  Bible  and  of  revelation.  Of  the  direction 
of  the  current  of  educated  opinion  there  cannot  be 
any  doubt. 

'  For,  while  the  tired  waves,  vainly  breaking, 
Seem  here  no  painful  inch  to  gain, 
Far  back,  through  creeks  and  inlets  making, 
Comes  silent,  flooding  in,  the  main  '  (A.  H.  Clough). 

It  would  be  strange  if  traditionalism  did  not 
make  a  brave  fight  for  life,  and  the  battle  has  often 
waxed  hot.  Critical  freedom  has  sometimes  been 
purchased  at  a  great  price.  Those  who  are  born 
free  have  a  sacred  heritage.  The  cause  of  the 
scientific  study  of  the  OT  has  been  championed 
and  won  for  England  by  Colenso  and  Stanley, 
Cheyne  and  Driver  ;  for  Scotland  by  Davidson, 
Robertson  Smith,  and  G.  A.  Smith ;  for  America 
by  Briggs  and  Harper,  Toy  and  Brown — to  name 
in  each  instance  but  a  few  scholars  out  of  many. 
Criticism  is  represented  in  modern  Judaism  by 
Montefiore,  and  the  writers  of  the  JE  ;  in  the  Rom. 
Cath.  Church  by  the  Abbe  Loisy,  Baron  von 
Httgel,  Pere  Lagrange,  and  Salvatore  Minocehi. 
It  has  become,  as  Sanday  says,  international  and 
inter-confessional.  And,  since  all  light  and  truth 
are  of  God,  Biblical  science  can  bring  to  Churches 
and  nations  nothing  but  good.  It  is  inevitable 
that  the  art  of  criticism  should  sometimes  be 
practised  by  men  of  little  faith,  or  of  no  faith,  and 
that  in  their  case  the  critical  spirit  should  be 
captious  rather  than  sympathetic,  the  critical 
weapon  destructive  rather  than  constructive.  The 
fault  is  not  in  the  instrument  but  in  the  user.  Of 
two  scientists  who  study  the  open  book  of  Nature, 
one  sees  only  a  strange  adjustment  of  the  atoms 
of  dead  matter,  while  the  other  has  a  vision  of  the 
living  garment  of  God.  And  of  two  critics  of  the 
Bible,  which  is  '  literature  and  not  dogma,'  the 
one  is  merely  conscious  of  the  pathetic  upward 
strivings  of  the  human  spirit,  while  the  other  bows 
in  reverence  before  a  revelation  of  the  immanent 
God  of  truth  and  love. 

Appeal  is  often  made  from  criticism  to  archaeology.  Ex- 
ploration is  called  to  be  the  handmaid  of  revelation.  The  spade 
is  taken  to  confirm  the  pen.  Many  confident  statements  have 
been  circulated  in  the  name  of  this  romantic  young  science, 
which  is  bringing  so  many  old  things  to  light.  '  Wherever 
archaeology  has  been  able  to  test  the  negative  conclusions  of 
criticism,  they  have  dissolved  like  a  bubble  into  the  air  '  (Sayce, 
Monument  Facts  and  Higher  Critical  Fancies,  p.  25).  Assyri- 
ology  '  has  for  ever  shattered  the  ' '  critical "  theory  which  would 
put  the  Prophets  before  the  Law1  (p.  87).  From  buried 
palaces,  from  monuments,  from  long-lost  libraries,  '  a  voice  has 
gone  up  rebuking  the  scorner '  (J.  Orr,  The  Bible  under  Trial, 
p  121).  But  is  criticism  really  opposed  by  the  facts  of  the 
monuments,  or  only  by  illegitimate  inferences  deduced  from 
these  facts?  On  many  points  archeeology  is  certainly  quite 
neutral,  and  on  many  others  it  is  in  perfect  accord  with  the 
views  of  the  critics.  While  it  has  to  some  extent  confirmed  the 
Bible  statements  regarding  Shishak,  Omri,  Ahab,  Jehu,  Sargon, 
and  Sennacherib  ;  while  it  has  proved  that  the  art  of  writing 
was  wide-spread  in  the  East  long  before  the  Hebrew  invasion  of 


318 


CRITICISM  (Old  Testament) 


Canaan  ;  while  it  has  found  in  Hammurabi  a  law-giver  far  older 
than  Moses :  it  has  not  hitherto  appreciably  affected  a  single 
critical  conclusion  as  to  Israel's  historical  and  literary  develop- 
ment. '  Archseology  has  refuted  only  the  argument  which 
Prof.  Sayce  has  imaginatively  attributed  to  critics :  the  argu- 
ments which  they  really  use,  with,  of  course,  the  entire  position 
which  depends  upon  them,  it  has  left  absolutely  untouched ' 
(Driver,  LOT8,  p.  xx).  Sayce,  Hommel,  and  Winckler  have 
rendered  splendid  service  as  archaeological  specialists,  and  every 
discovery  they  have  made  has  been  welcomed ;  but  science 
would  prefer  to  receive  their  facts  neat,  instead  of  having  them 
diluted  with  cheap  anti-criticism.  Prof.  Orr  is  the  ablest 
opponent  of  criticism  in  this  country,  but  he  has  personally 
accepted  a  good  many  of  its  results  ;  and,  when  he  still  contrasts 
the  traditional  with  the  modern  position  by  saying  that '  the  one 
scheme  is  naturalistic ;  the  other  is  positively  Christian  :  there 
must  in  the  long  run  be  a  more  decisive  choice  between  them 
(EsepTiXviu.  [1907]  125),  he  is  needlessly  confusing  the  issue. 

The  progress  of  criticism  has  been  slow.  The 
labour  has  been  spread  over  a  century  and  a  half. 
Every  critical  theory  that  had  ever  been  advanced 
has  been  severely  tested  and  strenuously  contested. 
Criticism  is  bound  to  be  self-critical,  proving  all 
things  and  holding  fast  that  which  is  good.  It  is 
not  to  be  imagined  that  finality  has  been  reached 
on  every  minor  detail  of  criticism.  All  along  the 
line  there  are  matters  that  still  await  adjustment. 
In  the  improvements  which  it  is  receiving  at  the 
hands  of  a  new  generation,  the  Grafian  theory 
resembles  the  Darwinian. 

Allusion  can  be  made  to  only  a  very  few  points.  (1)  The 
Jahwist  and  Elohist  have  often  been  called  '  prophetic '  writers, 
as  if  they  had  come  under  the  influence  of  Amos  and  Hosea ; 
but  Gunkel  has  made  it  appear  very  probable  that  the  stories  of 
J  and  E,  which  in  his  view  represent  the  work  of  schools  rather 
than  of  individuals,  had  taken  shape  in  all  essentials  by  1200 
B.a  While,  on  the  one  hand,  '  we  must  assume  their  existence 
in  order  to  account  for  the  appearance  of  the  Prophets,'  they 
have,  on  the  other  hand,  '  much  that  must  needs  have  been  ex- 
ceedingly offensive  to  the  Prophets '  (H.  Gunkel,  The  Legends  of 
Genesis,  Eng.  tr.  1901,  p.  140  f.).  (2)  While  scholars  like  Baudissin 
and  Kittel  hold  that  the  Law  of  Holiness  (Lv  17-26)  precedes 
Deut.,  and  Driver  andRyle  that  it  is  later  than  Deut.,  but  prior 
to  Ezekiel,  Addis  has  argued  very  ably  for  placing  it  after  both 
these  writings  (Heb.  Ret.  p.  241  S .).  (3)  The  division  of  Isaiah  into 
two  parts  at  ch.  40  is  indisputable,  but  in  both  parts  there  are 
sections  that  require  to  be  removed  into  different  historical 
settings,  and  in  nearly  all  the  Prophets  some  later  additions 
and  redactions  have  been  discovered.  (4)  The  Psalter  as  a  whole 
is  probably  post-exilic,  but  it  is  in  the  nature  of  things  scarcely 
possible  to  determine  the  precise  environment  into  which  each 
poem  should  be  fitted,  and  the  theory  that  many  of  the  Psalms 
reflect  Maccabaean  and  Ptolemaic  conditions  has  not  met  with 
much  acceptance.  (5)  The  Wisdom  literature  and  the  relation 
of  its  later  developments  to  Greek  thought  still  need  much 
attention.  While  Job  is  recognized  as  post-exilic,  and  Ecclesi- 
astes  may  be  little  older  than  Daniel  (which  belongs  to  the 
great  field  of  Apocalyptic  literature),  it  still  remains  probable 
that  the  kernel  of  the  Book  of  Proverbs  represents  the  oral 
wisdom  of  Israel  in  the  time  of  the  monarchy. 

Some  gains  obtained  by  the  criticism  of  the  Old 
Testament  may  be  mentioned.  It  has  established 
the  broad  principles  that  '  God  never  spoke  a  word 
to  any  soul  that  was  not  exactly  fitted  to  the 
occasion  and  the  man ' ;  and  that  '  separate  .  .  . 
from  this  context,  ...  it  is  no  longer  the  same 
perfect  Word '  (Robertson  Smith,  OTJC2,  1892,  p. 
10  f.).  It  has  reconstructed  the  history  of  Israel 
in  the  light  of  that  other  modern  principle — *  there 
is  no  history  but  critical  history.'  For  the  in- 
credible dogmas  of  verbal  inspiration  and  the  equal 
divinity  of  all  parts  of  Scripture,  it  has  substituted 
a  credible  conception  of  the  Bible  as  the  sublime 
record  of  the  Divine  education  of  the  human  race. 
It  has  traced  the  development  of  the  religious  con- 
ceptions and  institutions  of  Israel  in  a  rational 
order.  Moving  the  OT's  centre  of  gravity  from 
the  Law  to  the  Prophets,  it  has  proved  that  the 
history  of  Israel  is  fundamentally  and  essentially 
the  history  of  Prophecy.  It  has  made  a  sharp  and 
clear  distinction  between  historical  and  imaginative 
writing  in  the  OT,  arid  so  enhanced  the  real  value  of 
both.  It  has  appreciated  the  simple  idylls  of  Israel's 
folklore,  pervaded  and  purified  as  they  are  by  the 
spirit  of  the  earliest  prophets,  and  used  by  them  to 
transfuse  the  devotion  of  a  higher  faith  into  the 
veins  of  the  people.  It  has  thrown  light— as  Astruc 
saw  that  it  would — on  the  many  duplicate,  and  even 


contradictory,  accounts  of  the  same  events  that 
are  found  in  close  juxtaposition.  It  has  explained 
the  moral  and  theological  crudities  of  the  Bible  as 
the  early  phases  of  a  gradual  religious  evolution. 
It  has  denuded  the  desert  pilgrimage  of  literary 
glory,  only  in  order  to  enrich  the  Exile.  For  the 
'  Psalms  of  David '  it  has  substituted  the  *  Hymn- 
book  of  the  Second  Temple,'  into  which  are  garnered 
the  fruits  of  the  religious  thought  and  feeling  of 
centuries.  To  the  legendary  wisdom  of  one  crowned 
head  it  has  preferred  the  popular  philosophy  of 
many  generations.  For  a  religious  history  which 
looked  like  an  inverted  pyramid,  it  has  given  us 
one  which  is  comparable  to  an  ever-broadening 
stream — the  record  of  a  winding  but  unwavering 
progress  in  the  moral  and  religious  consciousness 
of  a  people.  Instead  of  crowding  the  most  complex 
institutions  and  ideals  into  the  infancy  of  the 
nation,  it  has  followed  the  order  of  nature — '  first 
the  blade,  then  the  ear,  then  the  full  corn  in  the 
ear.' 

Prof.  B.  D.  Eerdmans,  Kuenen's  pupil  and  successor,  is  re- 
garded as  the  leader  of  a  reaction.  He  begins  his  Alttest. 
Studien  (Giessen,  3  parts,  1908-10)  by  announcing  that  he  has 
quitted  the  Graf-Wellhausen-Kuenen  School.  Criticism  has  been 
wrong  from  the  outset.  *  Astruc  led  her  into  false  tracks '  (p.  iv). 
'  The  theory  which  uses  the  Divine  names  as  a  guide  through  the 
labyrinth  of  the  traditions  ib  an  error,  and  must  be  set  aside' 
(p.  94).  Instead  of  taking  these  names  as  literary  Criteria,  let 
us  have  an  historical -religious  investigation  of  their  meaning. 
In  the  '  Book  of  the  Covenant '  (Ex  2022-23^),  '  Elohim '  cannot 
refer  to  the  God  of  Israel.  It  is  a  real  plural.  The  '  judges ' 
(Ex  216  228-9)  are  gods.  This  is  the  key  with  which  the  new 
critical  school  opens  the  door.  Polytheism  is  to  be  found  not 
only  in  the  'Book  of  the  Covenant,'  but  in  the  narratives  of 
Genesis.  'For  the  knowledge  of  the  history  of  Israel  it  is  of 
great  importance  to  see  clearly  that  the  legends  which  have 
been  gradually  collected  in  Genesis  have  received  but  a  faint 
monotheistic  colouring.'  Round  the  figures  of  the  patriarchs 
have  gathered  (1)  stories  in  which  the  polytheism  is  undisturbed, 
(2)  others  which  recognize  Jahweh  as  one  of  the  gods,  and  (3) 
others  in  which  the  polytheism  has  been  adapted  to  monothe- 
istic faith.  Some  parts  of  P— which  to  Eerdmans  is  'a  fiction ' 
— are  much  older  than  the  Exile,  and  round  all  the  ancient 
legends  there  have  gradually  accumulated  many  additions  and 
redactions,  dating  from  the  earliest  to  the  latest  times. 

Eerdmans  has  failed  to  take  account  of  the  fact  that  for  the 
recognition  of  J  and  E  in  the  Hexateuch  there  are  many  other 
important  criteria — language,  style,  point  of  view,  religious 
tendency — besides  the  Divine  names.  It  will  be  found  that  the 
difference  between  him  and  his  master  is  after  all  not  very 
great.  His  vigorous  and  suggestive  criticism  is  a  trumpet-call 
to  all  OT  scholars  to  re-examine  their  position,  and  they  are 
cheerfully  responding ;  but  it  does  not  appear  that  the  solid 
walls  of  P  have  been  shaken. 

Literature  (chiefly  additional  to  books  cited  above). — J.  W. 
Colenso,  Pentateuch' and  Book  of  Joshua  critically  examined, 
7  parts,  London,  1862-79 ;  Th.  Noldeke,  Die  AT  Literatur, 
Leipzig,  1868,  also  Untersuchwngen  zur  Kritik  des  Al^s,  Kiel, 
1869;  A.  Kuenen,  Histor.  Krit.  Onderzoek\  Leyden,  1885-93 
(Eng.  tr.  of  pt.  1  under  title  The  Hexateuch,  London,  18S6) ; 
Karl  Buckie,  Bibl.  Urgeschichte  untersucht,  Giessen,  1883,  also 
Religion  of  Israel  to  the  Exile,  New  York  and  London,  1899 , 
Ed.  Riehm,  Einleit.  in  das  AT,  Halle,  1889;  W.  W.  Graf 
Baudissin,  Gesch.  des  AT  Priesterthums,  Leipzig,  1S89;  A. 
Westphal,  Les  Sources  du  Pentateuque,  2  vols.,  Paris,  1S88-91I; 
H.  Holzinger,  Einleit.  in  den  Hexateuch,  Freiburg,  1893  ;  W. 
E.  Addis,  The  Documents  of  the  Hexateuch,  2  vols.,  London, 
1892-8,  also  Hebrew  Religion,  do.  1906;  C.  A.  Briggs,  The 
Bible,  the  Church,  and  the  Reason,  Edinburgh,  1892,  also  Ths 
Higher  Criticism  of  the  Hexateuch,  New  York,  1893 ;  S.  R. 
Driver,  LOT8,  Edinburgh,  1909 ;  W.  R.  Smith,  OTJC*,  Lon- 
don  and  Edinburgh,  1892;  B.  W.  Bacon,  The  Genesis  of 
Genesis,  London,  1892  ;  C.  H.  Cornill,  Einleit.  in  das  AT*, 
Freiburg,  1896  (Eng.  tr.,  2  vols.,  N.Y.  1907) ;  OT  Theologies,  of 
SchultzS  (Frankfort,  1896;  Eng.  tr.,  Edinburgh,  1892),  Smend* 
(Freiburg,  1S99),  Piepenbring  (Berlin,  1886  ;  Eng.  tr.,  New  York, 
1893),  Riehm  (ed.  Pahncke,  Halle,  1889),  A.  B.  Davidson  (Edin- 
burgh, 1904),  Duff  (London,  1892),  Bennett  (London,  1896); 
Histories  of  Israel,  of  Ewald3  (Gottingen,  1864-8),  Guthe 
(Freiburg,  1899),  Kittel  (Gotha,  1888-92;  Eng.  tr.,  London, 
1895-6),  Cornill  (Leipzig,  1898;  Eng.  tr.,  Chicago,  same  year); 
T.  K.  Cheyne,  Founders  of  OT  Criticism,  London,  1S93,  also 
Jewish  Religious  Life  after  the  Exile,  New  York  and  London, 
1898  ;  G.  A.  Smith,  Modern  Criticism  and  the  Preaching  of  the 
OT,  London,  1901 :  J.  E.  McFadyen,  OT  Criticism  and  the 
Christian  Church,  London  and  N.Y.,  1903 ;  W.  Sanday,  Inspira- 
tion, Oxford,  1893  :  F.  Giesebrecht,  Die  Grundziiqe  des  israelii. 
Religionsgeschichte,  Leipzig,  1904  ;  F.  Hommel,  TheAnc.  Heb. 
Tradition,  London,  1897  ;  A.  H.  Sayce,  Monument  Facts  and 
Higher  Critical  Fancies,  London,  1904  ;  J.  Orr,  The  Problem  of 
the  OT,  London,  1906,  also  The  Bible  under  Trial,  do.  1907,  and 
The  Faith  of  a  Modern  Christian,  do.  1910. 

J.  Strachan. 


CRITICISM  (New  Testament) 


31& 


CRITICISM  (New  Test.).— The  criticism  of  the 
NT  may  be  treated  in  two  divisions — that  of  the 
Gospels  and  Acts,  and  that  of  the  remaining 
books.  In  the  Gospels  and  Acts  we  are  dealing 
with  narrative  material,  which  may,  therefore,  be 
approached  from  the  standpoints  and  methods  of 
(a)  literary,  {b)  historical,  criticism.  But  in  the 
Epistles  and  the  Apocalypse  we  have  to  do  with 
books  where  the  historical  element  is  subordinate 
and  the  literary  predominant.  Consequently,  liter- 
ary methods  of  criticism  will  find  further  scope 
than  historical  methods,  and  there  is  likely  to  be 
less  divergence  of  opinion  on  the  results  obtained. 

I.  Criticism  of  tee  Gospels  and  Acts.— 
To  the  dispassionate  inquirer  the  present  state  of 
this  department  of  investigation  must  be  strangely 
bewildering.  This  is  not  due  to  variation  of  opinion 
in  the  region  of  literary  criticism,  for  there  it  has 
long  been  seen  that  the  possibility  of  obtaining 
sure  results  is  very  limited  in  scope,  and  agreement 
has  been  largely  reached  on  all  points  where  agree- 
ment is  possible.  But,  in  the  region  of  historical 
inquiry,  results  are  surprisingly  contradictory,  and 
there  seems  at  present  to  be  no  likelihood  of  agree- 
ment being  reached. 

I.  Literary  criticism. — So  far  as  the  Synoptic 
Gospels  are  concerned,  important  results  have  been 
reached  by  the  methods  of  literary  criticism.  These 
may  be  briefly  summarized  as  follows,  (a)  It  has 
been  shown  that  the  Second  Gospel  was  used  in  the 
compilation  of  the  First  and  Third  Gospels.1  (b)  It 
has  been  further  shown  that  behind  the  First  and 
Third  Gospels  lies  a  compilation  of  the  Lord's  Say- 
ings ( =  Q)  which  directly,  or  after  passing  through 
intermediate  stages,  was  used  by  the  editors  of 
these  later  Gospels.2  (c)  It  has  also  been  made 
probable  that  the  editor  of  the  Third  Gospel  used, 
in  addition  to  Mark  and  Q,  at  least  a  third  written 
source  ;  but  no  agreement  has  been  reached  as  to 
its  scope.8  (d)  Some  recent  attempts  to  analyze 
the  Second  Gospel  into  two  or  more  documents 
which  were  originally  distinct  rely  more  upon 
historical  considerations  than  upon  purely  literary 
methods,  and  are  too  recent  to  have  been  fully 
considered.4 

In  the  Fourth  Gospel  literary  critical  methods 
have  recently  found  much  play.  Wellhausen  6  has 
attempted  to  find  traces  of  composite  authorship, 
and  he  has  been  followed  by  Spitta,6  who  endea- 
vours to  distinguish  between  a  Grundschrift,  to 
which  he  assigns  a  very  high  historical  value,  and 
a  Bearbeitung.  But  it  may  be  questioned  whether 
the  unity  of  the  book  is  not  too  apparent  to  be 
lightly  shaken.' 

The  attempt  to  analyze  the  Acts  into  its  original 
sources  finds  ever  new  disciples.  The  latest  is 
Harnack,8  who  finds  in  Ac  2-15  a  compilation  of 
three  documents.  But  the  grounds  alleged  do  not 
seem  adequate  to  support  the  conclusions.9  On 
the  other  hand,  the  identity  of  the  editor  of  the 
Acts  with  the  writer  of  the   '  We '  sections  and 

1  Studies  in  the  Synoptic  Problem,  ed.  Sanday,  1911. 

2  For  recent  attempts  to  reconstruct  Q,  see  A.  Harnack,  Say- 
ings of  Jesus,  Eng.  tr.,  Lond.  1908  ;  B.  Weiss,  'Die  Quellen  der 
synopt.  Uberlieferung'  (TU  xxxii.  3  [1908]) ;  and  Studies  in  the 
Synoptic  Problem  (ut  supra). 

3  Weiss,  op.  cit. 

4  Wendling,  Die  Entstehung  des  Marcus-Evangeliums,  Tubin- 
gen, 1908  ;  Bacon,  The  Beginnings  of  Gospel  Story,  New  Haven, 
1909.  See  '  Survey  of  Recent  Literature  on  Synoptic  Gospels,' 
in  Review  of  Theology  and  Philosophy,  July  1909  ;  and  Williams, 
in  Studies  in  the  Synoptic  Problem. 

5  Das  Evangelium  Johannis,  Berlin,  1908. 

6  Das  Johannes- Evangelium  als  Quelle  der  Geschichte  Jesu, 
Gottingen,  1910. 

7  See  in  criticism  of  Wellhausen,  Gregory,  Wellhausen  und 
Johannes,  Leipzig,  1910 ;  for  earlier  '  Partition  Theories,'  Sanday, 
Criticism  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  Oxford,  1905 ;  and,  for  recent 
literature,  Review  of  Theol.  and  Phil.,  Feb.  1911,  and  Bacon,  The 
Fourth  Gospel  in  Research  and  Debate,  New  York,  1910. 

8  The  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  Eng.  tr.,  Lond.  1909. 

8  See  Clemen,  in  the  Eibbert  Journal,  July  1910,  p.  780  ff. 


with  the  editor  of  the  Third  Gospel  has  received 
the  weighty  support  of  Harnack  himself,  and  on 
purely  literary  grounds  is  hardly  deniable.1  Those 
who  dislike  this  conclusion  have  to  fall  back  upon 
historical  considerations. 

So  far  we  have  been  dealing  with  literary 
criticism  in  its  efforts  to  determine  or  to  detect 
underlying  sources  in  the  narrative  literature  of 
the  NT.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  most  important 
and  assured  results  have  been  reached  in  those 
cases  where  the  data  are  the  fullest.  The  use  of 
Mark  in  Matthew  and  Luke  has  been  rather 
observed  than  discovered ;  and,  if  Mark  did  not 
exist,  literary  analysis  certainly  could  not  recon- 
struct it  out  of  the  later  Gospels.  For  that  very 
reason,  attempts  to  reconstruct  Q  can  be  at  the 
best  but  tentative.  The  attempted  analysis  of 
these  books  into  sources  which  are  not  now  extant 
is  a  matter  of  great  difficulty,  arising  from  the 
fact  that  the  writers  have  so  re-cast  any  sources 
which  they  may  have  used  that  reconstruction  of 
them  is  now  almost  impossible.  It  is  for  that 
reason  that  attempts  on  purely  literary  grounds  to 
re-discover  sources  used  in  the  Acts  are  little  likely 
to  succeed. 

2.  Historical  criticism. — It  is,  however,  in  the 
region  of  historical  criticism  that  the  variety  of 
opinion  spoken  of  above  chiefly  exists.  And  the 
reason  of  it  is  not  far  to  seek.  Inquirers  into  the 
Gospels  and  Acts  are  divided,  broadly  speaking, 
into  two  classes,  guided  by  different  conceptions  as 
to  the  right  method  of  approaching  the  narratives, 
and  consequently  employing  different  standards 
or  criteria  in  estimating  their  value  as  historical 
material. 

(1)  Investigators  of  the  first  class  start  from  the 
assumption  that  the  facts  of  history  which  lie 
behind  the  narratives  are  purely  natural  facts, 
similar  in  nature  to  other  facts  known  to  us.  In 
particular,  they  take  it  for  granted  that  Jesus  was 
a  man,  whose  personality  underwent  the  normal 
process  of  gradual  development,  so  that  the  growth 
of  His  intellectual  conceptions  can  be  traced  on 
psychological  lines.  Inquirers  who  are  guided  by 
principles  like  these  are,  of  course,  bound  to  apply 
to  the  material  before  them  such  criteria  as  the 
following,  (a)  Does  a  writer  state  as  fact  an  event 
which  lies  outside  the  range  of  the  known  laws  of 
Nature  ?  Then,  not  only  did  the  alleged  event  not 
happen,  but  some  account  must  be  given  of  the 
nature  of  the  process  which  enabled  the  writer  to 
state  as  fact  what  is  incredible.  Under  this  head 
the  whole  of  the  so-called  miraculous  element  in 
the  Gospels  and  Acts  is  removed  from  the.  sphere 
of  history,  and  translated  into  the  realm  of  myth, 
legend,  popular  exaggeration,  symbolism,  allegory, 
or  transference  of  the  miraculous  from  other  de- 
partments of  tradition  into  the  life  of  Jesus.  In 
the  early  days  of  criticism  this  generally  led  to  the 
transference  of  the  Gospels  into  the  2nd  cent.,2  in 
order  to  allow  time  for  the  growth  of  legend  round 
the  few  traditional  facts  of  the  life  of  Jesus.  More 
recently  it  has  been  argued  that  such  growth  may 
have  been  very  rapid,  and  is  consistent  with  a  1st 
cent,  date  for  the  Gospels.8  (b)  The  mental  develop- 
ment of  Jesus  must  be  similar  to  our  own,  and  it 

1  Luke  the  Physician,  Eng.  tr.,  Lond.  1907  ;  see  also  J.  O. 
Hawkins,  Harm  Synopticce,  Lond.  1899. 

2  The  Second  Gospel  ie  now  most  generally  assigned  to  A.D. 
60-70,  the  Third  to  c.  a.d.  80,  and  the  First  to  varying  dates 
between  the  publication  of  Mark  and  the  end  of  the  century. 
The  tendency  nowadays  is  to  push  the  Synoptic  Gospels  and  the 
Acts  backwards  rather  than  forwards.  This  is  illustrated  by 
Harnack's  admission  that  the  Acts  may  have  been  written  '  so 
early  as  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  decade  of  the  first  century ' 
(Acts,  p.  297). 

3  Harnack  now  (Neue  Untersuch.  zur  Apostelgeschichte, 
Leipzig,  1911)  places  Acts  before  the  death  of  St.  Paul,  St. 
Mark  and  St.  Luke  earlier,  and  St.  Matthew  shortly  before  or 
after  a  d  70.  The  present  writer  has  argued  for  a  date  about 
a.d.  DO  for  St.  Matthew  (ExpT,  July  1910). 


320 


CRITICISM  (New  Testament) 


is  not  possible  that  He  could  have  taught  doctrines 
which  appear  to  us  to  be  logically  inconsistent. 
This  has  been  applied  in  particular,  in  recent 
times,  to  the  problem  of  the  eschatological  teach- 
ing in  the  Gospels  as  compared  with  the  moral 
teaching  of  Christ.  Christ,  it  is  argued,  cannot 
have  been  both  the  same  unclouded  thinker  of  the 
moral  sayings  and  the  apocalyptic  fanatic  of  the 
eschatological  passages.  We  must,  therefore,  give 
up  one  of  the  two  as  historical,  and  the  teaching 
generally  chosen  as  most  conveniently  to  be  got 
rid  of  is  the  eschatological,1  which  is  then  re- 
garded as  an  intrusion  into  Christ's  teaching  of 
elements  derived  from  Jewish  Apocalyptic  writ- 
ings, remoulded  in  Christian  circles.  Of  course, 
on  lines  like  these  the  task  of  criticism  is  very 
largely  one  of  explaining  away  the  evidence  which, 
at  first  sight,  the  Gospels  set  before  us  as  to  the 
facts  of  Christ's  life. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  give  here  an  exhaustive 
list  of  all  the  ways  in  which  criticism  attempts  to 
do  this,  but  the  following  are  some  of  them  : — 

Adaptation  of  Christ's  life  to  the  narrative  and  prophecies  of 
the  OT.  (This  would  account  in  part  for  the  narrative  of  the 
Virginal  conception,  the  stories  of  the  Magi,  and  of  the  flight 
into  Egypt,  etc.)  Adaptation  to  His  life  of  heathen  mythology 
(the  Virgin  birth).  Adaptation  to  His  life  of  the  current  Jewish 
doctrine  of  the  Messiah.  The  attribution  to  Him  of  sayings 
prophetic  of  later  events,  e.g.,  the  manner  of  His  death,  or  the 
fall  of  Jerusalem.  The  hardening  into  narratives  of  fact  of 
words  spoken  by  Him  in  allegory  or  metaphor. 
The  main  difficulties  which  many  will  feel  with 
criticism  of  this  kind  are  these  : — 

(a)  It  starts  from  presuppositions  with  which  the  evidence  of 
the  narratives  immediately  conflicts.  (6)  Its  methods  of  explain- 
ing the  origin  and  genesis  of  much  of  the  evidence  are  conjectural 
and  fanciful — not  the  application  of  scientific  principle,  but  an 
appeal  to  any  or  every  supposed  cause  that  might  have  given  rise 
to  the_  creation  of  the  evidence,  (c)  Its  results  are  hopelessly 
precarious.  The  Jesus  who  emerges  from  its  labours  is  some- 
times a  simple-minded  lover  of  God,  who  is  crushed  between  the 
political  and  theological  wheels  of  His  day  ;  sometimes  an  ethical 
teacher  of  high  value  ;  sometimes  a  dreamy  enthusiast,  who  died 
because  He  deluded  Himself  into  the  belief  that  He  was  the 
Messianic  King.  The  Gospels,  as  manipulated  by  the  uncertain 
methods  of  this  sort  of  criticism,  seem  capable  of  yielding  a 
picture  of  any  sort  of  Jesus  that  the  critic  desires. 

(2)  Investigators  of  the  second  class  approach 
the  subject  from  a  very  much  wider  ana  more 
liberal  historical  background.  They  argue  that  a 
cursory  reading  of  the  Gospels  gives  us  at  once  a 
consistent  picture  of  One  whose  personality,  whilst 
truly  human,  yet  transcends  the  limits  of  human 
personality  as  elsewhere  known  to  us.  They, 
further,  argue  that  the  same  kind  of  evidence 
which  is  given  to  us  in  the  Gospels  is  also  given, 
without  break  of  continuity,  in  the  history  of  the 
Christian  Church  ;  so  that  the  Gospels  are  only  a 
first  stage  in  a  continuous  stream  of  evidence  to  a 
Person,  dead  yet  living,  human  yet  more  than 
human.  In  view  of  this  deepest  and  most  profound 
fact  of  human  experience,  we  cannot,  they  urge, 
apply  to  the  Gospel  evidence  those  rough  and 
ready  tests  of  the  historical  which  critics  of  the 
first  class  are  so  eager  to  use.  Christ  is  reported 
to  have  worked  a  miracle.  The  critics  of  the  first 
class  say  at  once :  (a)  '  The  miracle  did  not 
happen ' ;  therefore  (b)  '  the  narrative  is  very  late,' 
or  (c)  'it  is  to  be  explained  as  due  to  one  of  the 
causes  summarized  above,'  and  (d)  'it  is  worthless 
as  evidence  of  historical  fact.'  Christ  is  reported 
to  have  worked  a  miracle.  The  critic  of  the  second 
class  will  say  at  once,  '  Why  not  ? '  '  What  does 
this  mean  save  that  from  the  inexhaustible 
treasure-house  of  the  Personality  of  Jesus  flowed 
some  influence  or  power  which  so  dazzled  the 
minds  of  the  witnesses  that  they  recorded  their 
impression  in  the  simple  words  that  have  come 
down  to  us  ? '  Or,  again  :  Christ  is  reported  as 
having  taught  moral  principles  which  presuppose 
1  But  see  A.  Schweitzer  (The  Quest  of  the  Historical  Jesus, 
Eng.  tr.,  Lond.  1910),  who  rightly  refuses  to  eliminate  the  eschato- 
logical element  from  the  life  of  Christ,  but  over-emphasizes  it. 


the  continuance  of  human  society,  and  as  having 
spoken  about  the  Kingdom  of  heaven  as  something 
which  was  to  leaven  human  society.  He  is  also 
reported  as  having  announced  the  near  approach 
of  the  Kingdom,  and  His  own  '  Coming '  to  in- 
augurate it,  as  the  '  Son  of  Man '  coming  '  on  the 
clouds  of  heaven.'  Critics  of  the  first  class  say 
at  once :  '  Christ  cannot  have  spoken  these  two 
divergent  lines  of  teaching.  We  must  choose 
between  them.'  Critics  of  the  second  class  will 
rather  argue  that  we  are  dealing  with  two  types 
of  teaching  which  are  ultimately  harmonious ; 
that  difficulties  arise  if  we  unduly  press,  or  too 
literally  interpret,  sayings  of  the  one  or  the  other 
type  ;  and,  in  particular,  that  underlying  the  apoca- 
lyptic utterances  are  statements  of  profound  truth 
as  to  the  future  of  the  world,  and  of  the  relation  of 
Christ  to  humanity,  which  are  essential  for  a  right 
understanding  of  His  being. 

So  long  as  NT  critics  start  from  different 
assumptions,  and  employ  different  methods,  it  is 
obvious  that  they  will  arrive  at  different  con- 
clusions. It  is  clear  that  sooner  or  later  some 
agreement  must  be  reached,  if  possible,  as  to  the 
truly  scientific  method  of  approaching  the  Gospels 
and  Acts,  and  as  to  the  principles  or  criteria  by 
which  we  are  to  test  their  historical  value.  In 
other  words,  are  we  or  are  we  not  to  look  upon 
them  as  isolated  records  which  can  be  examined  in 
and  for  themselves,  regardless  of  the  continual 
corroboration  in  history  of  the  more  than  human 
Personality  to  which  they  bear  witness  ?  Or,  is 
the  representation  of  Jesus  as  given  in  the  Gospels 
as  a  whole  one  which  the  experience  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church  in  later  history  has  proved  to  be 
substantially  true?  If  the  latter  be  the  truer 
alternative,  we  shall  be  bound  to  approach  the 
Gospel  with  some  such  canons  of  criticism  as  these: — 
(a)  We  are  dealing  with  a  record  of  One  whose 
personality  and  force  of  character  transcend,  as  is 
proved  by  the  witness  of  history,  all  human  know- 
ledge. We  cannot,  therefore,  rule  out  as  evidence 
statements  which  ascribe  to  Him  power  and  in- 
fluence which  are  not  found  in  normal  experience 
of  life.  (6)  There  is,  therefore,  a  general  prob- 
ability in  favour  of  the  credibility  of  the  Gospel 
narratives.  The  area  of  uncertainty  arises  later 
in  the  attempt  to  reconstruct  from  them  the 
original  facts  as  they  occurred.  For  instance,  the 
narrative  of  the  raising  of  Jairus'  daughter  will 
leave  us  with  the  certainty  that  an  impression  was 
made  on  the  minds  of  the  witnesses  of  that  event 
that  a  dead  person  had  been  brought  back  again 
to  life.  What  '  death '  and  '  life  '  here  involve  can 
never  be  known  to  us.  The  substantial  fact  is 
that  the  force  and  power  of  the  Personality  of 
Jesus  effected  this  astonishing  thing  that  the 
girl,  who  otherwise  would  have  been  numbered 
with  the  dead,  took  her  place,  through  His  in- 
fluence, once  more  in  the  world  of  living  men  and 
women. 

The  question  of  the  necessity  of  approaching  the 
Gospels  as  historical  witnesses,  with  some  sort  of 
presuppositions  in  favour  of,  or  against,  their  testi- 
mony, has  not  yet  been  treated  in  a  serious  scientific 
manner.  Yet  nothing  is  more  certain  than  the 
fact  that  historians  approach  all  ancient  documents 
with  certain  presuppositions.  These  are,  in  large 
part,  inferences  drawn  from  our  experience  of  life 
treated  as  a  whole.  The  question  concerning  the 
Gospels  takes  the  form  whether  there  is  in  our 
experience  any  element  which  should  influence  us 
in  the  case  of  these  books  which  is  absent  when  we 
are  dealing  with  other  ancient  literature.  The 
historian  who  answers  No  will  necessarily  approach 
the  Gospels  with  a  presupposition  against  their 
evidence.  And  this  presupposition  seems  to  be  due 
to  a  denial  on  his  part  of  an  element  in  life  which 


CRITICISM  (New  Testament) 


321 


others  affirm,  and  which  causes  them  to  say  Yes. 
This  element  is  the  sustained  witness  of  the  Chris- 
tian consciousness  to  a  Personality  now  acting  upon 
human  life,  of  which  they  find  the  first  account  in 
the  Gospel  history.  It  has  always  claimed  to  be 
not  merely  witness  to  the  powerful  influence  exerted 
by  the  life  of  Jesus  as  recorded  in  the  Gospels,  but 
witness  to  the  influence  of  Jesus  Himself,  exerted 
on  individuals,  not  merely  through  the  record  of 
His  life,  as  the  memory  of  a  dead  friend  may 
influence  one  living,  but  immediately  as  living 
Spirit  upon  living  spirit.  This  sustained  witness 
is  a  psychological  fact  which  is  deserving  of  more 
serious  treatment  than  has  hitherto  been  accorded 
to  it.  If  it  is  in  any  sense  true  as  a  phenomenon 
of  consciousness,  then  it  necessarily  becomes  a  pre- 
supposition with  which  the  inquirer  must  approach 
the  Gospel  evidence.  If  the  Personality  of  Jesus 
acts  upon  consciousness  through  the  whole  period 
of  history  since  His  death  in  a  way  in  which  no 
other  personality  known  to  us  has  ever  acted,  then 
it  will  be  clearly  unscientific  to  apply  to  the  record 
of  His  life  the  same  axiomatic  rules,  as  to  what  is 
or  is  not  probable,  that  we  are  tempted  to  apply  to 
the  evidence  as  to  the  personality  of  ordinary  in- 
dividuals. This  does  not  make  any  investigation 
into  the  life  of  Jesus  useless,  or  lead  us  to  accept  as 
literally  true  anything  or  everything  that  has  been 
recorded  about  Him.  The  ordinary  rules  of  his- 
torical investigation  will  apply  in  large  part  to 
the  Gospels  as  to  other  ancient  literature.  But 
it  will  cause  us  to  exercise  caution  in  ruling  out 
evidence  which  points  to  the  presence  in  Him  of 
resources  of  power  over  psychical  and  natural 
phenomena  which  we  should  reject  in  other 
cases. 

What  has  been  said  above  applies  mainly  to  the 
Gospels,  yet  it  also  concerns  the  Acts.  For  there, 
too,  the  same  question  arises.  When  we  read 
anything  that  is  of  a  non-natural  kind,  are  we  on 
that  ground  to  relegate  it  to  a  position  of  late  date 
and  historical  valuelessness  ?  This  is  what  Harnack 
does,  e.g.,  with  Ac  1.  He  speaks  of  the  narrative 
of  the  Ascension  which  it  contains  as  probably  the 
latest  tradition  in  the  Book.1  The  only  reason 
apparently  for  that  judgment  is  the  nature  of  the 
event  recorded.  But  what  if  behind  the  narrative 
lies  a  historical  fact,  the  precise  nature  of  which 
can  only  be  dimly  surmised  behind  the  strong 
colours  in  which  it  has  been  painted  ?  Christ  had 
left  the  disciples  finally  :  that  they  knew.  No 
more  would  He  appear  to  them  as  at  the  Galilsean 
Lake.  He  was  henceforth  to  be  with  them  in 
another  sense.  And  He  was  to  come  again.  What 
if  some  strange  experience  of  fact  lies  behind  this 
narrative  ?  Need  it  then  be  so  late  in  date  ?  What 
prevents  it  from  being  one  of  the  earliest  traditions 
of  the  Christian  Church  ?  St.  Paul  is  witness  to 
such  a  tradition. 

Criticism  of  the  Gospels  and  Acts  which  is  based 
on  quite  unscientific  presuppositions — that  is  the 
point — introduces  hopeless  confusion  into  NT  criti- 
cism. It  condemns  offhand  certain  narratives  as 
fictitious,  and  then  invents  the  most  improbable 
causes  to  account  for  their  genesis  and  growth. 
This  is  not  criticism  based  on  principle,  but  arbi- 
trary and  captious  rejection  of  evidence.  We 
want,  if  possible,  some  sort  of  scientific  method  or 

firinciple,  and  this  can  be  reached  only  by  a  pre- 
iminary  investigation  of  all  the  facts.  Christ  as 
presented  in  the  Gospels,  Christ  as  experienced  in 
history,  Christ  as  experienced  in  modern  life, — is 
this  all  of  a  piece,  one  long  consecutive  witness  to 
a  supernatural  Christ?  If  so,  whatever  other 
1  Harnack  actually  makes  the  presence  in  the  Acts  of  the 
narrative  of  the  Ascension  an  argument  against  ascribing  the 
book  to  a  date  before  a.d.  78,  though  on  other  grounds  he 
inclines  to  an  earlier  date  (p.  291).  But  see  now  his  more 
recent  treatment  of  the  date  of  Acts  (cf.  p.  31 9b,  note  3,  above). 
VOL.  IV. — 21 


method  may  be  wrong,  nothing  can  be  more  funda- 
mentally unsound  than  the  attempt  to  go  to  the 
Gospels  and  from  the  first  to  eliminate  that  element 
to  which  Gospels,  history,  modern  consciousness, 
all  alike  bear  testimony. 

The  above  considerations  apply  also  to  the  Fourth 
Gospel.  But  here  the  furtker  question  arises,  Is 
the  Christ  here  presented  the  same  as  the  Jesus  of 
the  Synoptic  Gospels?  Is  there,  in  other  words, 
behind  the  Fourth  Gospel  a  substantial  basis  of 
historical  fact,  due  allowance  being  made  for  the 
translation  of  this  into  the  language  and  thought 
of  the  period  of  the  writer  or  writers  who  composed 
the  book  half  a  century  or  more  after  Christ's  life  ? 
To  that  question  different  answers  will  probably 
always  be  given  by  people  who  approach  the  Gospel 
with  different  presuppositions.  Interest  has  re- 
cently been  directed  in  particular  to  the  narrative 
of  the  raising  of  Lazarus.  On  the  one  hand,  it  is 
contended  that,  in  view  of  the  importance  which 
attaches  to  it  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  it  could  not 
have  been  omitted  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels  if  it 
was  a  fact  of  history  with  which  the  writers  of 
those  Gospels  were  acquainted.1  On  the  other 
hand,  it  is  urged  that  the  narrative  does  not 
receive  the  emphasis  which  some  modern  critics 
assign  to  it,2  and  that  the  argument  from  the 
silence  of  St.  Mark  and  the  other  Synoptic  writers 
is  hopelessly  precarious.3  In  the  debate  about 
the  authorship  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  interest  has 
centred  largely  in  the  theory  of  Schwartz  i  (based 
upon  an  alleged  statement  of  Papias  that  James 
and  John  were  killed  by  the  Jews)  that  John  died 
too  early  to  admit  of  his  being  the  author  of  the 
Gospel/ 

Quite  recently  the  whole  Johannine  question  has 
been  raised  into  a  new  atmosphere  by  a  new  dis- 
covery. The  old  axiom  of  critical  writers  who 
denied  the  Johannine  authorship  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel  was  that  the  book  is  thoroughly  Alex- 
andrian in  spirit  and  phraseology.  Some  writers 
have  always  urged  that,  in  spite  of  apparent 
parallels  with  Alexandrian  terminology,  it  is 
thoroughly  Hebraic.  This  has  recently  received 
striking  confirmation  from  an  unexpected  quarter. 
In  1909,  Rendel  Harris  published  from  a  Syriac  MS 
a  volume  to  which  he  gave  the  title  Odes  and  Psalms 
of  Solomon.  He  argued  that  these  Odes  were  not 
Gnostic,  but  Christian,  and  that  they  date  from 
the  last  quarter  of  the  1st  century.  Harnack6 
believes  them  to  be  of  Jewish  origin,  edited  by  a 
Christian.  If  he  is  right,  it  follows  that  a  large 
part  of  the  supposed  Alexandrian  element  in  the 
Fourth  Gospel  is  really  Jewish.  And  Harnack 
draws  the  conclusion  that  '  in  the  Johannine  theo- 
logy, apart  from  the  Prologue,  there  is  nothing 
essentially  Hellenic'  (p.  119).  If  this  is  true,  and 
if  the  date  assigned  to  the  Odes  is  right,  a  great 
many  arguments  for  a  2nd  cent,  date  for  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  and  a  large  number  of  objections  to  the 
Johannine  authorship,  cease  to  have  any  validity. 
It  is  possible  that  the  '  Odes  of  Solomon '  will 
prove  as  epoch-making  for  the  Johannine  question 
as  was  the  publication  of  the  Book  of  Enoch  for 
the  Synoptic  Gospels.7 

1  F.  C.  Burkitt,  The  Gospel  History  and  its  Transmission, 
Edin.  1906,  p.  221 S. 

2  J.  Armitage  Robinson,  The  Historical  Character  of  St.  John's 
Gospel,  Lond.  1908,  p.  34  ff . 

3  W.  Sanday,  The  Criticism  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  Oxl.  1905, 
p.  170  f. 

4  '  Uber  den  Tod  der  Sonne  Zebedai,'  in  Abhandl.  d.  konigl. 
Gesellsch.  d.  Wissensch.  zu  Gbttingen,  Phil. -hist.  Klasse,  newser., 
vii.  5. 

5  See  against  this  Sanday,  p.  103  if. ;  Armitage  Robinson, 
p.  64  ff.  Cf.  also  Spitta's  examination  of  Schwartz's  theory  in 
ZNTW  xi.  [1910]  39  ff.,  and  Schwartz's  reply,  ib.  p.  89  ff. 

6  '  Ein  jiid.-christliches  Psalmbuch  aus  dem  ersten  Jahrhun- 
dert '  (TU  in.  v.  [1910]  4,  published  separately,  Leipzig,  1910). 

7  See,  on  the  Odes,  Strachan,  in  ExpT,  Oct.  1910  ;  Bernard,  in 
JThSt,  Oct.  1910  [holds  the  Odes  to  be  Christian  Baptisma' 


322 


CRITICISM  (New  Testament) 


II.  Criticism  of  the  Epistles  and  Apoc- 
alypse.— I.  The  Pauline  Epistles. — The  move- 
ment of  criticism  in  recent  years  with  regard  to 
the  Pauline  Epistles  has  been  in  the  direction  of  a 
return  to  tradition.  With  few  exceptions,  critical 
writers  are  disposed  to  admit  as  Pauline  1  and  2 
Thess.,  Gal.,  1  and  2  Cor.,  Romans,  Philippians, 
and  Philemon.  Of  these,  2  Thess.  is  the  most 
doubted.  It  is  argued  that,  viewed  as  literature, 
it  reads  like  an  imitation  of  the  First  Epistle, 
whilst  from  a  theological  point  of  view  the  second 
chapter  presents  us  with  an  eschatology  different 
from  that  found  elsewhere  in  St.  Paul.  Harnack 1 
has  recently  attempted  to  meet  this  second  ob- 
jection, and  to  preserve  the  letter  for  St.  Paul  by 
the  novel  argument  that  the  First  Epistle  was 
written  to  the  Gentile  converts  at  Thessalonica, 
whilst  the  Second  was  written  for  the  Jewish 
converts  there. 

The  Epistle  to  the  Galatians  has  been  the 
subject  of  much  controversy  with  respect  to  the 
date  of  writing  and  the  people  addressed.  The 
theory  revived  and  advocated  by  Ramsay,  that  the 
Churches  addressed  are  to  be  found  in  the  southern 
part  of  the  Roman  province  of  Galatia,  would 
make  it  possible  to  date  the  letter  at  any  time 
after  St.  Paul's  visit  to  these  Churches  on  his 
second  journey.  Thus  Zahn  2  dates  it  from  Corinth 
on  the  second  journey.  Ramsay3  himself  prefers 
a  somewhat  later  date,  from  Antioch,  between  the 
second  and  third  journeys.  Against  this  it  may 
be  urged  that  St.  Paul  would  probably  have 
preferred  to  make  a  personal  visit  from  a  place  so 
near  to  Southern  Galatia  as  Antioch,  instead  of 
writing  a  letter.  Others  still  prefer  the  older 
chronology,  which  placed  the  letter  in  close  con- 
nexion with  1  and  2  Cor.  and  Romans.  A  com- 
parison of  Ac  166  with  1823  favours  the  view  that 
the  editor  of  the  Acts  believed  that  St.  Paul  visited 
the  old  kingdom  of  Galatia  ;  but  that  does  not,  of 
course,  settle  the  question  of  the  locality  of  the 
churches  to  which  the  letter  was  written.  The 
strongest  argument  in  favour  of  the  later  date  is 
the  close  resemblance  in  tone  between  Galatians 
and  Romans. 

The  return  to  a  traditional  position  spoken  of 
above  is  illustrated  by  the  present  state  of  critical 
opinion  with  regard  to  the  Epistle  to  the  Colossians. 
A  generation  ago  it  was  assigned  to  the  2nd  cent, 
by  a  majority  of  critical  writers,  the  arguments 
alleged  being  that  the  Epistle  contained  a  Ohristo- 
logy  too  developed  for  the  age  of  St.  Paul,  and  that 
the  false  teaching  was  a  2nd  cent,  form  of  Gnosti- 
cism. But,  although  some  of  the  more  advanced 
critical  writers  still  believe  it  to  be  post-Pauline, 
the  view  is  gaining  ground  *  that  the  Christology 
is  not  necessarily  un-Pauline,  and  that  the  teach- 
ing, if  in  any  sense  Gnostic,  is  an  early  form  of 
Gnosticism,  which  there  is  no  reason  to  place  out- 
side the  life  of  St.  Paul. 

Denial  of  the  authenticity  of  Ephesians  is  more 
wide-spread.  Its  theology  is  said  to  be  too  ad- 
vanced for  St.  Paul,  especially  in  respect  of  the 
Person  of  Christ,  and  the  doctrine  of  the  Church ; 
whilst  the  difficulty  of  reconciling  the  address  to 
Ephesus  with  the  entire  lack  of  local  colour  has 
never  been  quite  satisfactorily  explained.  But,  if 
Colossians    be     admitted    to    be    Pauline,    these 

Hymns  dating  from  the  time  of  Justin  Martyr]  ;  Menzies,  In- 
terpreter, Oct.  1910  [the  Odes  regarded  as  written  by  Gentiles 
impressed  with  the  truth  of  the  Jewish  religion] ;  Spitta,  in 
ZNTW  xi.  (1910]  193  ft.  and  259  ff.  [holds  strongly  to  Jewish 
character] ;  Gunkel,  ib.  p.  291  ff.  [maintains  Gnostic  origin]. 

1  Das  Problem  de.s  zweiten  Thessalonicherbriefs,  1910  (  =  5"^- 
zungsberichte  der  kimigl.  preuss.  Akad.  der  Wissensch.  xxxi. 
1910). 

2  Introd.  to  the  NT,  Eng.  tr.3,  Edin.  1909,  i.  199. 

3  Historical  Com.,  on  Galatians,  Lond.  1899.  p.  242. 

■»  The  Epistle  is  regarded  as  Pauline  by  Harnack,  Jiilicher, 
Clemen,  von  Soden,  von  Wrede,  Abbott,  Peake,  and  Moffatt. 


arguments  lose  their  force.  In  view  of  the  fact 
that  all  the  elements  of  the  Christology  of  these 
letters  can  be  found  in  St.  Paul's  undoubted 
Epistles,  it  is  quite  arbitrary  to  argue  that  he 
would  not  have  written  them,  if  the  circumstances 
necessary  to  the  development  of  his  thought  on 
these  lines  had  arisen.  And  to  argue  that  they 
could  not  have  arisen  is  mere  dogmatism  about  the 
unknown.1 

The  Pastoral  Epistles  are  regarded  as  post- 
Pauline  by  a  number  of  critical  writers,  on  the 
following  grounds : 

(1)  The  style  and  language  are  not  those  of  St.  Paul.  This  is 
true  if  stated  in  the  form  that  style  and  language  differ  from 
those  of  the  other  Epistles.  But,  if  genuine  at  all,  the  letters 
clearly  date  from  a  later  period  of  St.  Paul's  life  than  any  other 
of  his  extant  writings.  And  it  is  not  at  all  clear  why  changed 
circumstances  should  not  have  caused  a  corresponding  change 
in  the  Apostle's  expression  of  his  thought. 

(2)  The  nature  of  the  false  teaching  combated  is  said  to  be 
that  of  a  period  which  lies  outside  the  probable  limits  of  St. 
Paul's  life.  This  is  pure  conjecture.  There  can  be  no  evidence 
that  teaching  of  the  kind  presupposed,  whether  it  be  an  early 
form  of  Gnosticism  or  a  debased  Judaism,  had  not  begun  to 
affect  the  Churches  at  a  very  early  date. 

(3)  The  Church,  as  described  in  these  letters,  has  a  developed 
organization.  The  main  point  here  is  the  status  of  the  eTrta-Ko7ros. 
If,  as  seems  probable,  this  term  is  here  synonymous  with 
7rpetrjSuTepos,  the  Epistle  must  not  be  brought  down  too  late 
— not,  that  is  to  say,  into  the  2nd  cent. — and  would  suit  a  date 
at  the  end  of  St.  Paul's  life. 

(4)  There  is  a  lack  of  other  testimony  to  support  the  evidence 
of  these  letters  that  St.  Paul  was  released  from  his  imprison- 
ment at  Rome.  There  are,  however,  hints  elsewhere  in  the  NT 
that  the  Apostle  was  so  released.  Cr.  Ph  224,  Philem  2'-,  and  Ac 
2830,  which,  as  Harnack  2  has  recently  urged,  implies  that  St. 
Luke  was  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  St.  Paul  was  released. 
If  the  evidence  of  the  Pastoral  Epistles  on  that  point  be 
admitted  as  historical,  the  other  objections  to  their  authenticity 
lose  much  of  their  weight.  For  it  is  not  difficult  to  suppose 
that  the  Apostle,  feeling  that  his  departure  could  noC  be  long 
delayed,  might  well  see  the  necessity  of  making  provision  for 
the  future  organization  of  the  Churches,  which  were  soon  to  be 
deprived  of  his  guidance.  In  any  case  it  is  difficult  to  believe 
that  any  one  but  St.  Paul  could  have  written  2  Timothy.3 

In  the  case  of  the  last  Epistle  ascribed  by  tradi- 
tion to  St.  Paul,  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
modern  critics  are  almost  unanimous  in  their 
verdict  that  the  letter  cannot  be  Pauline.  But 
none  of  the  ancient  or  modern  conjectures  as  to 
the  authorship  is  more  than  a  shrewd  guess. 
Tertullian  thought  of  Barnabas ; 4  Luther,  of 
Apollos;0  Harnack,6  followed  by  Rendel  Harris7 
and  Peake, 8  favours  Priscilla  and  Aquila  ;  Ramsay 9 
and  Canon  (now  Bishop)  Hicks 10  prefer  Philip  the 
Evangelist. 

2.  The  Catholic  Epistles. — Here,  too,  opinion  is 
divided  into  two  main  classes.  On  the  one  hand 
are  the  writers  who  defend  the  traditional  author- 
ship of  most  of  these  documents,  on  the  ground 
that  they  can  find  no  reason  for  rejecting  it.  On 
the  other  are  the  critics  who  seem  to  be  possessed 
at  the  outset  by  the  feeling  that  it  would  be 
treasonable  to  admit  that  tradition  can  ever  be 
right  in  its  ascription  of  these  writings  to  Apostolic 
authors.  And  yet,  how  little  probable  it  is  that 
none  of  the  earliest  Apostles  except  St.  Paul  should 
have  left  behind  them  any  written  record  !  How 
very  probable  it  is  that  others  besides  St.  Paul 
should  have  written  letters !     How  improbable  it 

1  The  authenticity  of  Ephesians  is  denied  by  the  majority  of 
German  writers  and  by  Moffatt,  but  is  asserted  by  Abbott  and 
Peake  ;  Harnack  and  Jiilicher  think  the  question  an  open  one. 

2  Acts,  p.  40. 

3  An  intermediate  position  is  taken  by  those  who  believe  that 
genuine  Pauline  fragments  have  been  worked  into  these  Epistles 
by  a  later  writer.  So  Harnack,  McGiffert,  Moffatt,  Knoke, 
Peake. 

4  de  Pudicitia,  20.  So  recently  Weiss,  Bartlet,  Ayles,  and 
Dibelius  (Der  Verfasser  des  Hebraerbriefes,  Strassburg,  1910), 
who  regards  Hebrew's  as  originally  a  Sermon,  not  an  Epistle. 

5  Enarr.  in  Gen.  48.  20. 

6  ZNTW  i.  [1900]  16-41. 

'  Side  Lights  on  NT  Research,  Lond.  1908. 

8  Com.  on  Hebrews  (Century  Bible),  Edin.  1902. 

9  Luke  the  Physician,  Lond.  1908,  p.  304.  Philip  is  regarded 
as  representing  the  Cesarean  Church. 

10  Interpreter,  Apr.  1909. 


CRITICISM  (New  Testament) 


323 


is  that  the  Church  should  have  failed  to  preserve 
some  such  writings,  and  should  rather  have  let 
them  slip  into  oblivion,  and  preserved  instead  2nd 
cent,  writings  which  went  by  false  names  !  There 
is  an  a  prion  probability  in  favour  of  the  traditional 
authorship,  and  something  approaching  to  over- 
whelming proof  of  its  impossibility  is  required 
before  it  can  be  set  aside.  From  the  perusal  of 
the  objections  repeated,  with  as  much  certainty  as 
though  they  were  axioms  of  Euclid,  by  successive 
critics  of  the  advanced  type,  the  candid  reader  rises 
with  the  feeling  that  they  are  forced  conclusions 
from  evidence  which  is  capable  of  more  than  one 
interpretation.  '  If  there  were  no  tradition  as  to 
authorship,'  he  will  say,  '  I  could  only  conclude 
that  these  writings  were  composed  within  the  first 
150  years  of  the  existence  of  the  Christian  Church. 
But  within  that  period  I  find  no  reason  why  some 
of  these  writings  should  not  have  been  written  by 
the  men  to  whom  tradition  assigns  them.  On  the 
other  hand,  I  do  see  reason  to  suppose  that  the 
early  Church  would  have  preferred  to  preserve 
Apostolic  rather  than  later  documents. ' 

Apart  from  2  Peter,  where  the  argument  from 
literary  dependence  on  Jude  seems  fatal  to  the 
Petrine  authorship,  the  arguments  against  the 
authenticity  of  the  other  members  of  this  group 
seem  insufficient  to  outweigh  the  tradition  in  their 
favour.     They  are  of  the  following  nature  : 

(a)  Against  James.1—  The  writer  is  arguing  against  St.  Paul's 
teaching  about  Justification  by  Faith,  or  against  a  corrupt 
form  of  it ;  the  Greek  of  the  letter  is  too  good  for  St.  James ; 
the  writer  does  not  refer  to  early  controversies  such  as  that 
about  the  admission  of  Gentiles  into  the  Church  ;  he  makes  no 
reference  to,  or  use  of,  cardinal  doctrines  of  the  primitive 
Church,  such  as  the  Messiahship  of  Jesus,  His  death  and 
resurrection  ;  the  reference  to  healing  through  the  '  elders '  is 
a  mark  of  late  date  ;  the  condition  of  the  Christians  addressed 
is  that  of  a  late  and  decayed  Christianity. 

(b)  Against  Peter. — The  chief  question  here  has  turned  on 
the  nature  of  the  persecution  implied  in  the  letter  and  the 
hearing  of  that  upon  the  date  of  the  authorship.  Ramsay  2  has 
tried  to  show  that  the  references  to  persecution  imply  a  date 
about  a.d.  80.  Others  prefer  the  reign  of  Trajan 3  (on  the 
ground  that  the  references  to  persecution  in  the  Epistle  accord 
well  with  the  account  given  by  Pliny  to  Trajan)  or  of  Domitian.* 
But  there  is  really  no  ground  for  so  pressing  the  language  of 
t  he  letter  as  to  make  it  impossible  to  suppose  that  it  was  written 
during  the  Neronian  persecution.5  Then,  as  afterwards,  there 
ma}T  have  been  reason  to  urge  Christian  converts  to  let  it  be 
known  that  they  were  suffering  as  Christians,  and  not  for 
moral  offences  which  would  have  been  inconsistent  with  their 
profession.  The  other  main  ground  for  rejecting  the  Petrine 
authorship  of  the  letter  is  its  alleged  Paulinism.  But  we  may 
admit  a  certain  amount  of  Pauline  influence  upon  the  writer 
without  necessarily  denying  that  St.  Peter  can  have  been  the 
author.  Arguments  against  the  authenticity  on  this  and  other 
grounds  seem  to  be  captious  and  arbitrary,  such  as  '  This  is  un- 
likely,' or  '  That  is  improbable  in  the  case  of  St.  Peter.'  After 
all,  how  very  little  we  know  of  the  Apostle's  life  after  a.d.  44  ! 
And  how  are  we  to  determine  what  he  may  or  may  not  have 
written,  or  how  much  or  how  little  he  may  have  seen  of  St. 
Paul  in  the  later  years  of  his  life  ? 

(c)  Against  2  Peter.— The  dependence  of  the  writer  upon 
Jude  is  really  fatal  to  the  authenticity  of  the  letter.  The  case  is 
parallel  with  that  of  the  First  Gospel.  The  composer  of  that 
book  has  carefully  worked  over  the  Second  Gospel  in  such  a 
way  that  it  is  little  likely  that  Matthew  or  any  other  Apostle 
can  have  written  it.  So  in  the  case  of  2  Peter  ;  if  it  is  dependent 
on  Jude,  it  is  improbable  that  Peter  or  any  Apostle  can  have 
penned  it.  (Attempts  have  been  made  to  save  the  rest  of  the 
letter  by  supposing  ch.  2  to  be  an  interpolation  dependent  on 
Jude.)  Further  arguments  against  the  authenticity  of  the 
Epistle  are  found  in  its  late  attestation,  and  in  its  reference  to 
St.  Paul's  Epistles  (316). 

(d)  Against  Jude. — The  reference  to  the  Apostles ;  the 
reference  to  '  the  Faith ' ;  the  supposed  similarity  between 
the  teaching  combated  and  the  teaching  of  the  2nd  cent.  Carpo- 
cratians. 

(e)  The  question  of  the  authorship  of  the  Johannine  Epistles 

1  The  latest  commentator,  Oesterley  (Expositor's  Gr.  Test. 
iv.  [1910]),  thinks  that  the  arguments  for  and  against  an  early 
date  are  equally  balanced.  He  suggests  that  the  Epistle  may 
have  been  written  by  St.  James,  but  that  it  was  originally  a 
great  deal  shorter  than  it  now  is. 

2  Church  in  the  Roman  Empire5,  Lond.  1S97,  p.  282. 

3  So  Pfleiderer,  Jiilicher,  Cone,  and  others. 

4  So  von  Soden,  Harnack,  and  recently  Gunkel  (Die  Sckriften 
des  NT,  1909). 

5  So  the  most  recent  commentator,  Hart,  in  Expositor's  Gr. 
Test.  v.  (1910). 


is  so  closely  connected  with  the  complicated  question  of  the 
authorship  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  that  it  is  best  to  pass  them 
over  in  a  cursory  survey  of  NT  criticism  like  the  present.  They 
are  widely  regarded  as  by  the  Bame  writer  as  the  Fourth  Gospel", 
though  some  would  separate  the  Second  and  Third  Epistles 
from  the  First,  and  attribute  them  to  a  different  author. 

These  arguments  may  be  divided  into  two  classes  : 
(1)  literary,  and  (2)  those  which  rest  upon  the 
supposed  background  of  ideas  and  of  ecclesiastical 
development  suggested  by  the  writings  in  question. 
The  arguments  of  the  first  class  are  the  most  likely 
to  lead  to  positive  conclusions,  and  in  one  case  they 
do  so,  as  is  recognized  by  most  critical  writers, 
including  some  who  in  other  respects  come  to 
conservative  conclusions.  It  is  generally  admitted 
that  the  literary  dependence  of  2  Peter  on  Jude 
rules  out  the  Apostolic  authorship  of  the  former. 
Here,  then,  we  have  one  case  where  the  Church 
has  admitted  into  its  Canon  a  writing  of  a  later 
date,  because  it  bore  an  Apostolic  name.  But  how 
does  it  stand  with  the  other  writings  ?  Here  the 
literary  argument  leads  to  no  such  positive  result. 
1  Peter  may  depend  on  Romans  and  Ephesians, 
but  St.  Peter  may  have  written  it  nevertheless. 
Jude  shows  acquaintance  with  St.  Paul's  Epistles, 
but  why  may  not  the  Jude  to  whom  the  letter  has 
generally  been  assigned  have  been  so  acquainted  ? 
When  we  turn  to  the  arguments  of  the  other  class, 
they  fail  to  carry  conviction  to  minds  which  are 
not  prepossessed  with  the  conception  that  none  of 
these  writings  can  be  Apostolic. 

3.  The  Apocalypse. — Modern  investigation  has 
done  much,  and  will  do  more,  to  rescue  this  book 
from  the  fetters  of  traditional  linesof  interpretation, 
and  to  reconstruct  the  atmosphere  in  which  it  was 
written,  and  in  which  therefore  it  ought  to  be  read 
and  interpreted.  The  following  are  the  main  points 
at  issue  : — 

( 1 )  The  authorship.  It  is  now  very  widely  held 
that  Apocalypse  and  Fourth  Gospel  cannot  be  by 
the  same  author.  This  is,  of  course,  not  a  new, 
but  an  ancient  critical  inference  (cf.  Dionysius  of 
Alexandria,  ap.  Eus.  HE  vii.  25.  15).  (2)  The  date. 
Was  the  book  written  in  the  reign  of  Nero,  or  of 
Domitian  ?  The  majority  of  recent  writers  favour 
the  later  date.1  (3)  Dependence  upon  earlier 
literature.  Attempts  have  been  made  to  show  that 
the  book  in  its  present  form  is  a  Jewish  Apocalypse 
re-edited  by  a  Christian,  or  a  composite  work  into 
which  fragments  of  Jewish  Apocalypses  have  been 
loosely  incorporated.  These  attempts  at  analysis 
of  the  structure  of  the  book  may  be  said  to  have 
failed.  The  unity  of  purpose  and  idea  is  too  obvious. 
No  doubt,  the  writer  was  deeply  read  in  the  OT, 
and  very  probably  also  in  current  Jewish  Apoca- 
lyptic literature.  But  the  book  is  no  mere  com- 
pilation of  fragments  of  earlier  writings.2  In 
another  form,  however,  attempts  to  prove  de- 
pendence of  the  writer  upon  the  past  have  met 
with  success.  Since  the  publication  of  Gunkel's 
Schbpfung  und  Chaos  (1895)  it  has  become  increas- 
ingly clear  that  the  writer  has  made  very  large 
use  of  ancient  myth,  and  of  language  and  symbol 
long  current  in  Apocalyptic  writings.  Not,  of 
course,  that  such  borrowing  is  peculiar  to  him. 
The  long  stream  of  Prophetic  and  Apocalyptic 
speakers  and  writers  from  Isaiah  downwards,  not 
excluding  our  Lord  Himself,  have  this  in  common, 
that  they  do  not  entirely  create  a  new  language  as 
the  vehicle  of  their  teaching,  but  largely  adopt  and 
borrow  the  words  and  symbols  of  an  earlier  age. 
To  take  a  simple  example,  the  writer  of  the  Apoc- 
alypse, like  all  the  writers  of  the  NT  where  they 
are  dealing  with  the  future,  borrows  very  largely 

1  So  Swete,  The  Apocalypse  of  St.  John1*-,  Lond.  1907;  and 
the  latest  commentator,  Moffatt,  in  Expositor's  Gr.  Test.  v. 
(1910). 

2  That  the  author  may  have  employed  and  worked  into  the 
scheme  of  his  book  portions  of  earlier  writings  is,  of  course, 
quite  probable,  but  difficult  to  prove. 


324 


CROSS 


from  Daniel.  That,  of  course,  will  be  readily 
admitted.  But  modern  investigation  has  penetrated 
behind  this  simple  handing  on  of  phrase  and 
symbol  from  writer  to  writer,  and  has  sought  to 
show  that  much  of  the  common  symbolism  so 
transmitted  goes  back  to  a  primitive  mythology, 
the  origin  of  which  is  hidden  in  the  speculation  of 
peoples  whose  history  lies  on  the  border  line  where 
history  fades  into  the  obscurity  of  legend.  This 
is,  no  doubt,  largely  true,  and,  if  true,  is  of  great 
importance  for  the  right  interpretation  of  the 
Apocalypse.  If  the  author  is  making  use  of  an 
ancient  myth,  which  has  passed  through  a  long 
course  of  transmission,  it  is  probable  that  much 
of  the  detail  which  forms  part  of  it  will  be  repeated 
by  him  because  it  is  already  there,  and  therefore 
it  has  no  particular  significance  for  him.  We  shall, 
therefore,  look  for  the  outstanding  ideas  behind 
his  pictures,  and  not  seek  to  press  a  historical 
allusion,  or  a  forecast  of  some  detail  of  future 
history,  out  of  every  phrase  and  symbol. 

Summary. — If  we  turn  now  from  this  survey  to 
a  forecast  of  the  future,  there  is  reason  to  think 
that  the  NT  criticism  of  the  days  to  come  will,  if 
we  may  judge  from  the  general  tendency  of  the 
more  recent  writings,  more  and  more  emancipate 
itself  from  those  prejudices  which  have  made  it  a 
byword  in  the  past.  There  is  much  that  is  hope- 
ful. On  the  one  hand,  there  is  a  readiness  to 
admit  that  the  larger  part  of  the  NT  writings  have 
quite  correctly  been  assigned  by  tradition  to  the 
1st  century.  On  the  other,  there  is  not  the  same 
eagerness  to  maintain  the  correctness  of  tradition 
in  all  its  details  that  once  inspired  writers  of  the 
conservative  school.  Such  a  popular  Introduction 
as  that  of  Peake  (1909)  may  be  taken  as  a  good 
example  of  the  newer  spirit,  which  is  anxious 
neither  to  affirm  nor  to  deny  traditional  positions, 
but  only  to  come  to  the  conclusions  to  which  the 
evidence  points,  and  to  keep  an  open  mind  where 
the  evidence  is  inconclusive.  Of  course,  prejudices 
die  hard,  and  the  determination  to  keep  the 
Catholic  Epistles  out  of  the  1st  cent,  has  still 
much  life  in  it  in  Germany.  But,  speaking 
generally,  there  seems  to  be  growing  up  a  school 
of  critical  writers  who  are  freeing  themselves  from 
the  axiomatic  dogmatism,  whether  theological  or 
anti-traditional,  of  the  past  century.  As  this 
school  increases,  it  may  be  hoped  that,  even  with 
regard  to  the  Gospels,  something  like  a  really 
scientific  method  of  inquiry  may  be  reached.  At 
present  it  must  sadly  be  confessed  that  the 
Prolegomena  for  such  an  inquiry  have  yet  to  be 
written. 

Literature. — This  is  given  in  the  footnotes.  J.  Moffatt's 
Introduction  to  the  Literature  of  the  New  Testament  (Edin- 
burgh, 1911),  which  appeared  too  late  to  be  used  in  this  article, 
should  be  specially  referred  to,  as  the  most  complete  survey  of 
the  field  of  NT  criticism.  See  also  reviews  of  the  book  by  the 
present  writer  in  ExpT,  May  and  June,  1911. 

W.  C.  Allen. 
CROMLECH.— See  Death  and  Disposal  of 
the  Dead  (European). 

CROSS. — The  cross  (Lat.  crux)  is  the  figure 
produced  by  two  lines  intersecting  one  another, 
Hsually  at  right  angles.  This  figure  gives  rise  to 
numerous  varieties  according  to  the  direction  of  the 
limbs  and  the  form  of  their  extremities.  W.  Berry 
in  his  Encyclopaedia  Heraldica  mentions  no  fewer 
than  385  different  crosses,  but  the  greater  number 
have  scarcely  any  interest  except  for  decorative  art 
and  the  science  of  heraldry.  From  the  point  of 
view  of  religious  symbolism  the  only  important 
types  are  the  following :  the  equilateral  cross,  called 
also  the  Greek  cross  (a  in  illustration)  ;  the  so- 
called  Latin  cross  (crux  immissa  or  capitata),  in 
which  the  lower  limb  is  longer  than  the  three  others 
(b) ;  the  Tau-shaped  {potencee  or  commissa)  cross 


(c)  ;  the  crux  ansata  or  handled  cross  (d) ;  the 
crux  decussata  or  St.  Andrew's  cross  (e) ;  the 
gammate  cross  (/) ;  the  Maltese  or  rayed  cross 
(g) ;  the  Lorraine  cross,  with  double  or  triple 
traverse  (h) ;  the  cross  perronnee,  that  is  to  say, 
mounted  on  steps  (i). 

a  b  c         d         e  f  g  h  i 

Fio.  1. 

I.  Non-Christian  crosses.  —  I.  The  equilateral 
cross. — The  equilateral  cross,  like  the  straight  line, 
the  curve,  the  circle,  the  crescent,  the  triangle, 
etc.,  forms  so  simple  and  natural  a  geometrical 
figure  that  in  many  instances  it  could  not  fail  to 
present  itself  spontaneously  to  the  imagination  in 
quest  of  a  sign  to  indicate  anything  that  extends 
in  the  principal  directions  of  space — the  sky,  the 
earth,  rays  of  light,  the  wind-rose,  etc. — and,  by 
an  extension  of  meaning,  to  stand  for  the  abstract 
notion  of  space  itself.  It  is  easy  to  understand 
how,  in  the  symbolism  of  some  peoples,  the  cross 
may  have  served  as  a  conventional  representation  of 
certain  material  objects  whose  contour  it  suggests 
— birds  on  the  wing,  men  with  outstretched  arms, 
a  double-headed  hammer,  the  bow  and  drill  appar- 
atus for  producing  fire,  etc.  But,  everywhere,  it 
may  be  said  to  have  been  used,  above  all,  to  repre- 
sent radiation  or  space. l 

Thus  we  find   that  the  equilateral    cross    was 

6 
a 


+ 


Fio.  2.2 


adopted  by  the  Chaldseo-Assyrians  as  the  symbol 
of  the  sky  and  of  its  god  Anu  (see  fig.  2,  a).     The 


Fio.  3.3 


same  peoples  represented   the   sun  and  its  eight 
regions  by  a  circle   from   which   eight  rays  pro- 


dp 


Fio.  4.4 
ceeded  (2,  b).    By  coupling  these  rays  in  pairs  there 
was  produced  the  radiated  cross  which  the  king  of 

i  At  the  same  time  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  cross, 
like  the  triangle  and  other  geometric  figures,  is  sometimes 
merely  ornamental  in  origin,  with  no  symbolic  significance 
whatever. 

2  See  Rawlinson,  WAT,  vol.  ii.  pi.  48. 

3  See  Perrot  -  Chipiez,  i.  308;  cf.  Layard,  Monuments  of 
Nineveh,  1849-53,  pi.  iv. 

4  See  Schliemann,  llios,  Paris,  1885,  No.  1959. 


CROSS 


325 


Assyria  wore  suspended  round  his  neck,  like  the 
cross  worn  by  a  Commander  in  our  orders  of 
knighthood  (see  fig.  3). 

Schliemann  has  noted  the  presence  of  the  cross 
upon  the  pottery  and  the  whorls  of  the  Troad. 
The  solar  meaning  of  this  symbol  is  attested 
by  its  alternating  with  the  rayed  disk.  At  times 
the  two  emblems  appear  in  juxtaposition  (see 
fig.  4,  a). 

Among  the  Greeks  the  sceptre  of  Apollo  assumes 
at  times  the  form  of  a  cross  (cf.  coin  of  Gallienus 
reproduced  in  Victor  Duruy's  Hist,  des  Romains, 
Paris,  1885,  vol.  viii.  p.  42),  fig.  4,  6.  The  cross  is 
associated  with  the  representation  of  Castor  and 
Pollux,  perhaps  in  order  to  emphasize  their  stellar 
character  (so  on  coin  of  Caracalla). 

In  India  likewise  the  equilateral  cross  alternates 
with  the  rayed  disk.  On  an  ancient  coin  repro- 
duced by  General  Cunningham  (Bhilsa  Topes,  1854, 
pi.  xxxi.)  the  branches  of  the  cross  terminate  in 
arrow-heads  (see  fig.  5). 


Among  the  Gauls,  as  well  as  among  the  peoples 
belonging  to  the  Bronze  period,  the  cross  appears 
frequently  on  pottery,  jewels,  and  coins  (see  G. 
de  Mortillet,  Le  Signe  de  la  croix  avant  le  chris- 
tianisme,  Paris,  1866,  p.  44  ff. ).  Here  again  the 
emblem    is    clearly   solar   (see   fig.    6).      On    the 


Fio.  6.1 

statuette  of  a  Gaulish  deity,  discovered  in  France 
in  the  department  of  Cote  d'Or,  we  see  the  tunic 
covered  all  over  with  crosses.  The  god,  who  is 
Sucellus  (on  whom  cf.  Kenel,  Religions  de  la  Ganle 
avant  le  christianisme,  Paris,  1906,  pp.  252-257), 
holds  in  one  hand  the  mallet  which  symbolizes  the 
thunderbolt,  and  in  the  other  a  jar  or  olla  (see 
fig.  7). 


Fig.  7.2 

The  cross  is  found  in  like  manner  in  Mexico,  in 
Peru,  and  above  all  in  Central  America,  where  its 

1  See  Flouest,  Deux  steles  de  laraire,  Paris,  1886,  pi.  xvii. 

2  See  Revue  Celtique,  1870,  p.  2. 


presence  upon  religious  monuments  did  not  fail 
to  astonish  the  companions  and  the  successors  of 
Columbus,  who  saw  in  it  a  trace  of  a  visit  paid  by 
St.  Thomas,  the  apostle  of  the  Indies  (see  Congres 
internat,  des  Americanistes,  vol.  i.,  Brussels,  1879, 
p.  501  if.).  We  know  nowadays  that  these  crosses 
are  designed  in  allusion  to  the  four  quarters  from 
which  rain  comes,  and  consequently  to  the  winds 
that  blow  from  the  four  cardinal  points  (see  G. 
Mallery,  in  10  RBEW,  1893).  The  cross  of  pre- 
Columban  America  is  a  veritable  '  wind-rose,'  and 
we  can  perceive  how  it  thus  became,  among  the 
Toltecs,  the  symbol  of  the  god  who  dispenses  the 
celestial  waters,  Tlaloc  (see  A.  Reville,  Religions 
du  Mexiqtte,  Paris,  1885,  p.  91  [also  in  Eng.  tr.]). 
According  to  Reville,  the  Mexican  cross  was  called 
the  'tree  of  fecundity'  or  the  'tree  of  life.' 
There  has  been  found  in  the  ruins  of  Palenque 
a  bas-relief  representing  persons  in  the  act  of 
adoration  before  a  cross,  on  which  rests  a  fan- 
tastic bird,  more  or  less  resembling  a  parrot. 
Perhaps  this  was  the  symbol  of  the  god  Quetzal- 
coat]  (the  feathered  serpent),  who  himself  also, 
according  to  Reville,  stands  for  a  god  of  the  wind 
[op.  cit.  p.  82;  see  also  Thomas  Wilson,  The  Swas- 
tika, 1896,  p.  933 ff.).  For  a  cross,  representing 
the  four  winds,  as  thought  of  by  the  Dakotas,  see 
fig.  8. 


ft 

I 

<? 

Fig.  8.1 

The  arrow  at  the  top  of  this  cross  marks  the  piercing  blast  of 
the  north  wind.  Once  the  north  wind  is  located  at  the  head  of 
the  cross,  the  east  wind  will  be  symbolized  by  the  heart,  which 
in  the  human  body  is  placed  under  the  left  arm.  The  south 
wind  is  pictured  by  the  sun,  as  it  shines  from  the  region  of 
light  and  warmth,  and  the  west  wind  by  a  star,  as  it  blows 
from  the  region  of  the  night. 

But  the  American  cross  may  have  assumed  also 
a  solar  or  stellar  character,  if  one  may  judge  from 


Fig.  9.2 


the  above  figure  (9),  which  has  been  met  with  on 
shells  found  in  the  mounds  of  New  Mexico  ;  and 


Fig.  10.3 


from  those,  not  less  significant  (10),  which  have 
been  found  among  the  Dakota  pictographs.  See, 
further,  following  article. 

1  See  10  RBEW,  fig.  1225. 

2  See  Holmes,  in  2  RBEW,  p.  282. 

3  See  Garrick  Mallery,  in  10  RBEW,  figs.  1118-1126. 


326 


CROSS 


Among  the  Chinese,   the   equilateral  cross  in- 
scribed within  a  square,  I— i— I.  stands  for  the  earth. 


According  to  Samuel  Beal  {Indian  Antiquary, 
1880,  p.  67)  there  is  found  in  China  even  the 
dictum  '  God  fashioned  the  earth  in  the  form  of  a 
cross.'  It  is  curious  to  meet  with  an  analogous 
symbolism  in  a  Church  Father.  '  The  aspect  of 
the  cross,'  writes  Jerome  [Com.  in  Marcum),  '  what 
is  it  hut  the  form  of  the  world  in  its  four  direc- 
tions ?  [Ipsa  species  crucis,  quid  est  nisi  forma 
quadrata  mundi  ?].  The  east  is  represented  by 
the  top,  the  north  by  the  right  limb  (looking  from 
the  cross),  the  south  by  the  left,  the  west  by  the 
lower  portion. ' 

2.  The  handled  cross  and  the  cross  potencie. — The 
potencie  form  T>  produced  by  suppressing  the 
upper  limb  of  the  Latin  cross,  is  called  also  the  Tau 
cross,  because  it  reproduces  the  form  of  the  Greek 
letter  Tau.  The  magical  virtue  which  down  to 
our  own  day  has  been  attributed  to  this  sign 
owes  its  origin  unquestionably  to  the  veneration 
paid  by  the  Egyptians  from  their  pre-historic  days 
to  the  handled  cross,  or  key  of  life,  represented 
by  a  cross  potencie  surmounted  by  a  handle  (see 
fig.    11).     This  cross,   which  is  met  with  on  the 


Fio.  11. 

most  ancient  monuments  of  the  Egyptian  mon- 
archy, is  frequently  to  be  seen  in  the  hand  of 
a  god,  a  priest,  or  a  king.  Archaeologists  have 
maintained  by  turns  that  it  represents  a  Nilometer 
(Plucke),  the  key  of  a  canal-lock  (Zoega),  a  jar 
upon  an  altar  (Ungarelli),  a  degenerate  form  of 
the  winged  globe  (Layard),  a  phallus  (Jablonski), 
the  loin-cloth  worn  by  the  Egyptians  (Sayce).  In 
the  paintings  on  the  tombs  it  appears  to  be  em- 
ployed by  the  divinities  to  awaken  the  dead  to 
a  new  life.  The  following  inscription  may  be 
read  upon  a  bas-relief  of  the  12th  dynasty,  where 
the  goddess  Anukit  is  seen  holding  the  extremity 
of  the  handled  cross  to  the  nostrils  of  the  king 
Usertesen  III.  :  '  I  give  thee  life,  stability,  purity, 
like  Ra,  eternally.'  Elsewhere  the  ideogram 
formed  by  the  handled  cross  in  the  hieroglyphic 
script,  T  (pronounced  ankh),  signifies  'life,'  'living' 
(E.  M.  Coemans,  Manuel  de  langue  igyptienne, 
Ghent,  1887,  pt.  1,  p.  46).  Whatever  may  be  the 
material  object  of  which  the  handled  cross  is  the 
representation,  its  abstract  sense  is  not  doubtful  : 
it  is  a  symbol  of  life,  of  the  vital  germ,  and  it  is 
not  without  reason  that  it  has  been  called  the  key 
of  life.1 


I 


Fig.  12. 
From   Egypt    the   key  of  life,   now  become  a 
magical    and    propitiatory    sign,    spread    to    the 
Phoenicians  and  then  to  the  whole  Semitic  world. 

1  See,  however,  Wiedemann,  Religion  der  alten  Agypter, 
Miinster,  1890,  p.  157  f.,  who  maintains  that  the  ankh  connotes 
merely  a  band  or  fillet,  and  is  only  homonymous  with  ankh, 
'  life,'  so  that  '  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  a  cross/ 

2  From  a  coin  of  Paphos  (CIS.  vol.  i.  fasc.  i.  p.  6). 

3  From  a  coin  of  Carthage  (Barclay  V.  Head,  Coins  in  the 
British  Museum,  London,  1881,  pi.  xxxv.,  No.  38). 

4  From  intaglios  of  Sardinia  (J.  Menant,  Pierres  gravies  de  la 
Haute  Asie,  Paris,  1883-85,  vol.  ii.  pp.  256,  258). 


Its  presence  has  been  noted  on  bas-reliefs,  tombs, 
pottery,  jewels,  coins,  from  Sardinia  to  Susiana, 
along  the  shore  of  Africa,  in  Phrygia,  Palestine, 
and  Mesopotamia.  Upon  monuments  of  Phoeni- 
cian or  Hittite  origin  it  is  held  in  the  hands  of 
kings  or  priests,  as  with  the  Egyptians,  and  is 
associated  with  the  tree  of  life  and  the  lotus  flower. 
Its  extreme  symbolical  importance  led  the  peoples 
who  borrowed  it  from  the  Egyptians  to  combine  it 
with  such  emblems  of  their  own  as  presented  an 
analogous  form  or  suggested  a  cognate  idea.  Thus 
the  Phoenicians  derived  from  it  a  mixed  emblem, 
in  which  the  handled  cross  is  grafted  upon  the 
cone  representing  the  goddess  Astarte  or  Tanit, 
'  she  who  gives  life '  (see  fig.  12). 

The  Greeks  anthropomorphosed  it  so  as  to  repro- 
duce the  features  of  their  goddesses  of  life — 
Aphrodite,  Harmonia,  Artemis  of  Ephesus,  etc. 
(see  fig.  13). 


oi 


6  = 


With  the  Gauls  the  T  comes  to  stand  for  the 
hammer  of  Thor,  which  was  regarded  not  only  as 
an  engine  of  destruction,  but  also,  after  the  manner 
of  the  storm,  as  an  instrument  of  life  and  fecundity. 
Even  with  the  Egyptians  the  two-headed  mallet, 

I   ,  became  in  the  hieroglyphs  a  Latin  cross,    l, 

with  the  meaning  of  'crusher,'  'avenger'  (de 
Harlez,  '  Le  Culte  de  la  croix  avant  le  chris- 
tianisme'  in  La  Science  catholique,  15th  Feb.  1890, 
p.  163). 

In  Egypt  there  have  been  found  a  whole  series 
of  signs  which  mark  the  transition  from  a  handled 
cross,  or  cross  ansala,  to  the  chi-rho,  or  mono- 
gram of  Christ  (see  fig.  14). 

ft  f  x  ^x 


The  handled  cross  or  a  similar  sign  is  met  with 
also  in  India  (see  fig.  15),  and  in  America,  where 


Fig.  15.4 
it  is  found  engraved  on  monuments  in  the  ruins 
of  Palenque,  as  well  as  on  the  pieces  of  pottery 
recovered  from  the  mounds. 

1  Lenormant,  in  GA,  1876,  p.  68. 

2  P.  Decharme,  Mythologie  de  la  Grece  antique,  1879,  fig.  145. 

3  Chi-rhos  of  Phiire  (Letronne,  '  La  Croix  ansee  _a-t-elle  ete 
employee  pour  exprimerle  monogrammeduChrist?'in.l/.4/.B£, 
vol.  xvi.  pi.  i.  figs.  47,  48,  49). 

4  On  a  silver  ingot  (Edw.  B.  Thomas,  in  the  Xumismatic 
Chronicle,  vol.  iv.,  new  series,  pi.  xi.). 


CROSS 


327 


In  a  Maya  manuscript  two  persons  appear  to 
be  in  the  act  of  adoration  before  a  tree  which 
affects  the  form  T>  and  where  a  parrot-like  bird 
has  taken  the  place  of  the  upper  arm  of  the  cross 
(see  fig.  16). 


Fro.  16.1 

3.  The  (/animate  cross,  or  gammadion.  —  This 
cross  derives  its  name  from  the  fact  that  it  can 
be  resolved  into  four  gammas  joined  at  right 
angles  (see  fig.   17).     In  spite  of  its  apparently 


*    tf  jfi'«f 


complicated  structure,  it  is,  next  to  the  equilateral 
cross,  the  form  most  widely  diffused  throughout 
all  antiquity.  It  has  been  met  with  on  terra-eotta 
articles  at  Hissarlik,  from  the  time  of  the  second 
or  burnt  city.  In  Greece  proper  and  the  islands  of 
the  Archipelago  it  makes  its  appearance  first  upon 
articles  of  pottery  with  geometrical  ornaments, 
which  form  the  second  period  of  Greek  ceramics. 
It  is  frequent  upon  the  ancient  vases  of  Cyprus, 
Rhodes,  and  Athens.  Upon  an  Athenian  vase,  in 
a  burial  scene,  it  appears  thrice  repeated  before 
the  funeral  car.  Upon  a  vase  of  Thera  it  accom- 
panies the  image  of  the  Persian  Artemis.  Else- 
where it  adorns  the  vulva  of  an  Asiatic  goddess. 
Upon  a  vase  now  at  Vienna  it  appears  as  an  orna- 
ment on  the  breast  of  an  Apollo  standing  upon 
a  quadriga  (cf.  Goblet  dAlviella,  The  Migration 
of  Symbols,  London,  1894,  pi.  i.).  It  became  a 
favourite  symbol  on  coins,  and  passed  along  with 
the  other  monetary  symbols  of  the  Greeks  into  the 
numismatic  art  of  all  the  Mediterranean  peoples. 

This  cross  is  also  found  engraved  upon  those  hut- 
shaped  funeral  urns  which  have  been  dug  up  in  the 
terramares  of  N.  Italy.  It  likewise  appears  on 
the  jewels  and  the  weapons,  not  only  of  Gallic,  but 
also  of  German  and  Scandinavian  peoples.2  In  com- 
pany with  the  wheel  and  the  thunderbolt,  it  adorns 
the  votive  altars  of  the  Gallico-Roman  period,  from 
Aquitaine  to  Great  Britain.  In  the  Caucasus  it 
has  been  noted  upon  weapons  and  jewels  which  go 
back  to  the  Bronze  period.  In  Lycaonia,  on  a 
Hittite  monument,  it  is  introduced  as  an  ornament 
on  the  border  of  the  robe  of  a  person  engaged  in 
ottering  sacrifice. 

In  India,  where  it  bears  the  name  of  sivastika 
(from  su,  '  well,'  and  asti,  '  it  is ')  when  the  limbs 

1  See  S  RBEW,  1884,  p.  32. 

2  In  the  north  it  has  received  the  name  fylfot  ('  many-footed  '), 
but  the  assimilation  implied  in  this  name  is  very  uncertain. 
See,  further,  Eenel,  op.  cit.  pp.  217-220. 


are  bent  towards  the  right  (fig.  17,  a),  and  sauvas- 
tika  when  they  are  turned  to  the  left  (lig.  17,  b), 
it  is  already  found  upon  the  domino-shaped  ingots 
of  silver  which  preceded  the  use  of  coins,  and  then 
upon  the  coins  themselves.  The  Buddhists  em- 
ployed it  largely.  A  notable  instance  of  its  use, 
along  with  other  symbols,  is  in  the  classical 
representation  of  the  Buddhapada.,  or  footprint  of 
Buddha  (see  fig.  19),  among  the  bas-reliefs  of  the 


Pig.  19. 

famous  stupa  of  Amaravatl.  It  passed,  no  doubt, 
along  with  Buddhism,  into  the  iconography  of 
China  and  Japan,  where  it  occupies  a  pre-eminent 
place  on  the  pedestal  of  Buddhist  statues,  and 
even  at  times  adorns  the  breast  of  Buddha  and  the 
Bodhisattvas.1  In  China,  moreover,  the  sivastika 
found  a  place  among  the  written  characters,  where 
it  conveys  the  notion  of  'plurality,'  and,  by  ex- 
tension, of  'abundance,'  'prosperity,'  'long  life' 
(Thomas  Wilson,  The  Swastika,  p.  799).  The  same 
is  the  case  in  Japan,  where,  according  to  de  Milloue, 
it  represents  the  number  10,000,  and  consequently 
the  idea  of  abundance  and  prosperity  [BSAL,  1881, 
p.  191]).  The  Empress  Wu  (684-704)  of  the  Tang 
dynasty  decreed  that  it  should  be  used  as  a  sign  for 
the  sun  (Yang  y  Yu,  in  Wilson's  Swastika,  pi.  2). 

Even  at  the  present  day  the  Hindus  make 
frequent  use  of  this  figure,  which  they  may  trace 
in  their  account  books  and,  on  certain  occasions, 
on  the  threshold  of  their  houses.  According  to  Sir 
George  Birdwood,2  they  distinguish  clearly  between 
the  swastika  and  the  sauvastika,  the  first  represent- 
ing the  male  principle  and  the  god  Ganesa,  the 
second  the  female  principle  and  the  goddess  Kali. 
In  an  extended  sense,  the  first  stands  for  the  sun 
in  his  diurnal  course,  or  for  light  and  life ;  the 
second  for  night  and  destruction.  The  sect  of  the 
Jains  in  India  has  chosen  the  swastika  as  the 
emblem  of  the  seventh  of  their  twenty-four  saints, 
or  Tirthahkaras  (Colebrooke,  '  On  the  Jainas,'  in 
Asiatic  Researches,  Calcutta,  1788-1836,  p.  308). 

The  gammate  cross  has  been  met  with  sporadic- 
ally also  on  bronze  articles  among  the  Ashantis 
of  Africa ;  and  also  on  native  implements  from 
Paraguay,  Costa  Rica,  and  Yucatan.  In  the 
ancient  Maya  city  of  Mayapan  it  adorned  a  stone 
slab  which  bore  also  the  image  of  the  solar  disk, 
exactly  as  in  Gaul,  Italy,  Asia  Minor,  East  India. 
In  N.  America  it  is  seen  among  the  crosses  engraved 
on  shell  and  copper  ornaments  from  the  mounds, 
and  the  Pueblo  Indians  still  use  it  to  decorate  their 
trinkets,  bead  necklaces,  baskets,  and  rugs.3 

From  the  circumstances  in  which  the  gammate 
cross  has  been  traced  or  employed,  it  follows  that, 
in  every  instance  in  which  a  symbolical  meaning 
has  been  attributed  to  it,  it  is  a  sign  of  good  omen, 

1  The  Buddha  Amitabha  (Musee  Guimet) ;  also  in  Wilson's 
Swastika,  pi.  i. 

2  Old  Records  of  the  India  Office,  London,  1S91,  p.  x  f. 

3  See  d'Alviella',  A  trailers  U  Far  West.  Brussels,  1906,  p.  160. 


328 


CROSS 


of  propitiation  and  benediction,  an  emblem  of 
prosperity,  of  life,  of  safety  [the  sauvastika,  where 
a  distinction  is  drawn  between  the  two  forms  of 
the  gammate  cross,  is  an  exception  which  proves 
the  rule].  But  whence  comes  this  general  function 
of  luck-bringer  and  talisman  ?  There  is  scarcely  a 
symbol  which  has  given  rise  to  such  diverse  inter- 
pretations. Men  have  seen  in  it,  e.g.,  running 
water  (Waring),  the  air  or  the  god  of  the  air  (R.  P. 
Greg),  fire  or  the  bow  and  drill  apparatus  for  pro- 
ducing fire  (Emile  Burnouf),  the  lightning  (W. 
Schwartz),  the  female  sex  (George  Birdwood), 
the  union  of  the  two  sexes  (J.  Hoffman),  a  Pali 
monogram  (General  Cunningham),  the  reunion  of 
the  four  castes  of  India  (Fred.  Pincott),  the  nautilus 
[Gr.  ttoXOttovs,  cf.  the  fylfot]  (Frederick  Houssay), 
cranes  flying  (Karl  von  den  Steinen),  the  primitive 
god  of  the  Indo-Europeans  (de  Zmigrodzki),  the 
sun  in  his  course  round  the  heavens  (Ludwig 
Miiller,  Percy  Gardner,  Edw.  B.  Thomas,  Max 
Miiller,  Henri  Gaidoz,  Goblet  d'Alviella). 

It  might  even  be  maintained,  on  the  strength 
of  the  monuments,  that,  after  having  served  as  a 
symbol  of  the  sun  in  motion,  the  gammate  cross 
came  to  symbolize  astronomical  motion  in  general, 
and  thus  to  be  applied  to  the  moon,  the  stars,  the 
sky  itself,  and  to  everything  that  appears  to  move 
of  itself — water,  wind,  lightning,  fire,  etc.  In  this 
way  it  would  readily  become  a  symbol  of  prosperity, 
fertility,  blessing,  or  the  appurtenance  of  such 
deities  as  secured  the  development  of  man  and  of 
Nature  (see  figs.  20,  21). 


Solar  gammadion.l 
Fig.  20. 


Lunar  gammadion.2 
Flo.  21. 


The  question  may  be  asked  whether  the  gammate 
cross  can  be  assigned  to  a  single  birthplace.  Its 
two  most  ancient  known  habitats  are  :  the  one  in 
the  burnt  city  of  the  ruins  at  Hissarlik,  the  other 
among  the  terramares  of  N.  Italy.  It  is  possible 
that  both  of  these  districts  borrowed  it  from  the 
valley  of  the  Danube  during  the  Bronze  age.  From 
these  two  centres  it  may  have  spread — while  retain- 
ing its  double  significance  as  a  solar  symbol  and 
as  a  sign  of  life  or  of  blessing — on  the  one  hand, 
towards  the  west,  to  the  extremities  of  the  Celtic 
and  German  world ;  on  the  other,  towards  the  east, 
by  way  of  the  Caucasus,  India,  China,  and  Japan. 

Again,  has  the  gammate  cross  of  the  New  World 
an  independent  origin  ?  The  supposition  is  by  no 
means  inadmissible  that  it  arose  spontaneously. 
But  the  answer  to  this  question  depends  in  some 
measure  upon  whether  infiltrations  of  Asiatic 
iconography  did  not  make  their  way  across  the 
ocean  during  the  era  of  pre-Columban  civilization. 
And  this  is  a  problem  which  appears  to  be  yet  far 
from  being  solved. 

II.  The  Christian  cross. —  The  cross  in  the 
Christian  sense  is  the  o-ravp6s  or  lignum  infelix,  a 
wooden  post  surmounted  by  a  cross-beam,  to  which 
the  Romans,  following  the  example  of  the  Greeks 
and  the  Easterns,  nailed  or  attached  certain  classes 
of  condemned  criminals  till  they  died.  The  fact 
that  Jesus  suffered  death  on  the  cross  has  con- 
verted this  infamous    figure    into    a    symbol    of 

1  Prom  a  Gallo-Belgic  coin  (E.  F.  F.  Hucber,  L'Art  qaulois. 
Paris,  1865,  p.  169). 

2  From  a  Cretan  coin  (Numismatic  Chronicle,  vol.  xx.  [No.  SI 
Pi.  H.  fig.  7). 


resurrection  and  salvation.  '  I  determined  to 
know  among  you  nothing  save  Jesus  Christ  and 
him  crucified/  writes  St.  Paul  (1  Co  22).  The 
early  Christians  saw  the  cross  in  all  the  inter- 
secting lines  which  presented  themselves  to  their 
view  in  ordinary  life,  in  art,  in  Nature.  The  '  sign 
of  the  cross '  was  their  favourite  symbol.  '  At 
every  step,  at  every  movement,  at  every  coming 
in  and  going  out,'  wrote  Tertullian  at  the  beginning 
of  the  3rd  cent,  (de  Corona,  3),  '  in  putting  on 
our  clothes  and  our  shoes,  in  the  bath,  at  table 
in  the  evening,  lying  down  or  sitting,  whatever 
attitude  we  assume,  we  mark  our  foreheads  with 
a  little  sign  of  the  cross.'  Moreover,  Christians 
had  to  defend  themselves  against  the  charge  of 
pagans  that  they  paid  adoration  to  the  cross  like 
an  idol.  '  Cruces  non  colimus  nee  optamus,'  wrote 
Minucius  Felix.1  But  it  is  plain  that  the  great 
mass  of  Christians  attached  a  magical  value  to 
this  sign.  At  all  events  they  used  it  as  a  form  of 
exorcism,  a  means  of  warding  off  unclean  spirits. 
One  of  the  most  ancient  portable  crosses,  found 
in  a  Christian  tomb  at  Rome,  bears  the  inscription : 
'  Crux  est  vita  mihi ;  mors,  inimice,  tibi'  ( '  The 
cross  is  life  to  me  ;  death,  O  enemy  [the  devil],  to 
thee ').  Soon  the  cross  came  to  work  miracles  of 
itself.  People  went  the  length  of  marking  cattle 
with  it  to  protect  them  from  disease.3 

The  cross,  according  to  a  Roman  Catholic  archae- 
ologist, P.  Didron,  is  more  than  a  figure  of  Christ ; 
it  is  in  iconography  Christ  Himself  or  His  symbol. 
'  Thus  a  legend  has  been  created  around  it  as  if  it 
were  a  living  being  ;  thus  it  has  been  made  the 
hero  of  an  epopee  germinating  in  the  Apocrypha ; 
growing  in  the  Golden  Legend ;  unfolding  and 
completing  itself  in  the  works  of  sculpture  and 
painting  from  the  14th  to  the  16th  century.' * 
This  is  an  allusion  to  the  celebrated  mystical  poem 
of  Giacomo  da  Varaggio  (13th  century),  where 
it  is  related  how,  after  the  death  of  Adam,  Seth 
planted  upon  his  tomb  a  branch  taken  from  the 
tree  of  life.  When  the  slip  had  grown  into  a  tree, 
Moses  obtained  from  it  his  magic  rod.  Solomon 
took  from  it  the  wood  for  his  temple.  Finally, 
the  executioners  of  Jesus  cut  from  it  the  materials 
for  fashioning  the  cross.  This  cross,  buried  upon 
Golgotha,  was  disinterred  in  the  time  of  the 
empress  Helena;  and  the  Church  commemorated 
its  discovery  by  appointing  the  3rd  of  May  (13th 
Sept.  in  the  Eastern  Church)  as  the  annual  festival 
of  the  Inventio  Crueis.  Carried  off  by  Chosroes, 
it  was  miraculously  recovered  by  Heraclius  four- 
teen years  later,  in  honour  of  which  event  the 
Church  instituted  another  annual  festival  on  the 
14th  of  Sept.,  the  Exaltatio  Crueis.  Lost  once 
more  after  the  Muslim  invasion,  it  is  to  reappear 
finally  in  the  sky  at  the  end  of  the  world. 

The  Holy  Cross  had  its  special  churches  as  it 
had  its  festivals ;  not  a  few  cities  even  were  named 
in  its  honour.  Thus  Roman  Catholic  writers 
admit  that  the  cross  has  become  the  object  of  a 
veritable  cult.  '  The  cross,'  writes  Didron  (loe. 
cit. ),  '  has  received  a  worship  similar,  if  not  equal, 
to  that  of  Christ ;  this  sacred  wood  is  adored 
almost  equally  with  God  Himself.'  Many  churches 
possess,  amongst  their  miraculous  relics,  alleged 
fragments  of  the  cross.  A  legend,  intended  to 
explain  their  abundance,  relates  that  these  frag- 
ments had  the  miraculous  prerogative  not  only  of 
healing  diseases,  but  even  of  reproducing  and 
multiplying  themselves  indefinitely. 

Strangely  enough,  the  early  Christians,  in  spite 
of  the  importance  they  attached  to  the  cross, 
refrained  from  reproducing  it  in  their  iconography. 

1  Migne,  PL  iii.  346. 

2  de  Rossi,  Bullebino  di  Arch.  Cristiana,  1373,  p.  138 ;  see, 
further,  art.  Charms  and  Amulets  <Chr.),  vol.  iii.  p.  426. 

3  P.  Didron,  Histoire  de  Dieu,  1843,  p.  351. 


CROSS  (American) 


329 


During  the  first  three  centuries  (with  possibly  a 
single  exception,  that  of  the  equilateral  cross  cut 
on  a  sepulchral  inscription,  which  de  Rossi  believes 
may  be  assigned  to  the  end  of  the  2nd  or  the 
beginning  of  the  3rd  cent.)  the  cross  of  Christ  is 
invariably  dissimulated  under  the  form  of  an 
object  wliich  recalls  its  image :  a  trident,  an 
anchor  (see  figs.  22,  23),  a  ship  with  rigging ;  or 
under  the  forms  of  the  cross  already  employed  by 
other  cults .  the  cross  potencee  and  the  gammate 


Figs.  22,  23.1 

cross.  The  cross  potcncie,  according  to  certain 
archaeologists,  is,  by  the  way,  the  form  which 
most  accurately  recalls  the  instrument  of  cruci- 
fixion employed  by  the  Romans. 

At  the  close  of  the  3rd  cent,  the  Christians 
designated  Jesus  Christ  by  a  monogram  composed 
of  the  first  two  letters  of  'Ir/o-oOs  Xpiards,  y£,  or 
of  XP«tt6s,  nP-  The  addition  of  a  transverse 
bar,  ^fc-  or  J2,  exhibits  the  cross  or,  better  still, 
Christ  upon  the  cross,  especially  when,  by  an  after 
process  of  simplification,  the  chi-rho  becomes  T 
or  "f*.  Further,  the  Latin  cross  already  appears 
upon  certain  coins  of  Constantine,  although  this 
emperor,  true  to  his  policy  of  religious  eclecticism, 
shows  no  scruple  about  introducing  on  the  same 
coins  representations  of  Mars  or  Apollo  as  gods. 
Julian,  of  course,  suppressed  both  cross  and 
chi-rho.  But,  after  his  time,  the  cross  finally 
takes  its  place  upon  coins  and  even  upon  the 
Imperial  diadem.  At  the  same  time  it  asserts 
itself  under  its  proper  form  in  funeral  inscriptions, 
upon  altars,  reliquaries,  lamps,  jewels,  and  even 
upon  the  facades  of  houses  and  the  tops  of  basilicas, 
where  it  takes  the  place  of  the  monogram ;  and 
before  long  it  may  be  seen  furnishing  the  ground 
plan  of  churches.  In  the  5th  cent,  the  employ- 
ment of  the  cross  potencie  becomes  rare  except  in 
Celtic  countries,  where  it  continues  to  show  itself 
in  inscriptions.  In  like  manner  the  gammate 
cross  now  appears  only  sporadically,  in  the  west 
and  the  north  of  Europe,  upon  tombstones  and 
sacerdotal  vestments. 

The  so-called  Latin  cross  and  the  equilateral 
cross  were  at  first  employed  without  discrimination. 
Only  gradually  did  the  equilateral  come  to  be  the 
specialty  of  the  East,  and  the  form  with  unequal 
limbs  that  of  the  West. 

As  to  the  crucifix,  i.e.  a  cross  with  the  body  of 
Jesus  nailed  to  it,  this  representation  does  not 
make  its  appearance  till  the  7th  century.  The 
art  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  not  slow  to  heighten 
its  realism  still  more.  But  at  the  same  time  a 
distinction  was  drawn  between  the  cross  of  the 
Passion,  which  is  accompanied  by  all  the  imple- 
ments of  crucifixion,  and  the  cross  of  the  Resur- 
rection, with  which  Jesus  ascends  to  heaven. 
The  first  is  painted  sometimes  green,  because  it 
was  cut  from  a  tree ;  sometimes  red,  because  it 
was  stained  with  the  blood  of  Christ.  The  second 
is  painted  sometimes  blue,  the  colour  of  the  sky  ; 
sometimes  white,  as  symbolizing  the  invisible 
Divinity.  It  is  this  last  which  is  carried  at  the 
head  of  processions. 

The  cross  became  a  hierarchical  symbol  in  the 

1  See  T.  Roller,  Les  Catacombes  de  Rome,  Paria,  1SS1,  vol.  i.  pi. 
lix.  nos.  8  and  11. 


Church.  Thus  the  Pope  has  the  privilege  of 
having  carried  before  him  a  cross  with  three 
bars,  while  cardinals  and  archbishops  have  to  be 
content  with  two,  and  bishops  with  one. 

Finally,  the  cross  served  also  in  the  prime  of  the 
Middle  Ages  as  a  symbol  of  certain  popular  rights. 
Such  were  the  market  crosses  in  Germany,  which 
implied  the  municipal  jurisdiction  ;  the  perrons,  or 
crosses  mounted  upon  a  column,  which  in  certain 
towns  of  Belgium  and  Germany  were  regarded  as 
an  emblem  of  jurisdiction,  and  even  as  the  palladium 
of  local  liberties.  When  Charles  the  Bold  wished 
to  punish  the  inhabitants  of  Liege,  he  carried  away 
their  perron  and  set  it  up  for  six  years  at  Bruges. 

For  a  number  of  centuries  the  phrase  '  to  take 
the  cross '  meant  to  devote  oneself  to  fight  the 
infidels.  Hence  the  orders  of  knighthood  and  the 
crosses  of  honour,  the  bestowal  of  which  has  now 
nothing  to  do  with  religion. 

After  all  that  we  have  said,  it  is  needless  to 
stop  to  examine  theories,  ancient  or  modern,  which 
seek  to  claim  a  pagan  origin  for  the  Christian 
cross,  on  the  ground  that  earlier  cults  had  cruci- 
form signs  among  their  symbolism,  while  others 
would  discover  in  pre-Christian  crosses  prefigura- 
tions  of  the  Crucifixion.  We  must  content  our- 
selves with  referring  the  reader  to  the  respective 
supporters  of  these  theories  (e.g.  Emile  Burnouf, 
Gabriel  de  Mortillet,  Mourant  Brock,  Abb! 
Ansault,  etc.). 

Literature. — i.  General.— J.  A.  Martigny,  Dictionnaire 
des  antiquitis  chritiennes,  Paris,  1865,  s.v.  '  Croix  ' ;  Gabriel  de 
Mortillet,  Le  Signe  de  la  croix  avant  le  christianising,  Paris, 
1866  ;  E.  Bunsen,  Das  Symbol  des  Kreuzes  bei  alien  Nationen, 
Berlin,  1876  ;  E.  Burnouf,  La  Science  des  religions,  Paris,  1876 ; 
Mourant  Brock,  The  Cross,  Heathen  and  Christian,  London, 
1879 ;  W.  H.  Holmes,  '  The  Cross  used  as  a  Symbol  by  the 
ancient  Americans,'  in  Trails,  of  the  Anthropological  Society  of 
America,  Washington,  1883,  vol.  ii. ;  Hochart,  '  Le  Symbole  de 
la  croix,'  in  Annates  de  la  Faculti  des  Lettres  de  Bordeaux, 
1886,  no.  1 ;  W.  Wilson  Blake,  The  Cross,  Ancient  and 
Modern,  New  York,  1888  ;  Ansault,  '  Le  Culte  de  la  croix  avant 
JeBus-Christ,'  in  the  French  review,  Le  Correspondant,  25th 
Oct.  1889,  p.  163 1.  ;  C.  de  Harlez,  'Le  Culte  de  la  croix  avant 
le  christianisme,'  in  the  French  review,  La  Science  catholique, 
15th  Feb.  1890  ;  F.  Cabrol,  art. '  Cross  and  Crucifix,'  in  Catholic 
Encyclopaedia,  New  York,  vol.  iv.  ;  J.  Romilly  Allen,  Early 
Christian  Symbolism,  in  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  London, 
1887. 

ii.  On  the  gammadion  or  swastika— I..  Muller,  Bet 
saakaldte  Sagekors,  Copenhagen,  1877;  E.  Thomas,  'The 
Indian  Swastika  and  its  Western  Counterpart,'  in  Numismatic 
Chronicle,  1880;  R.  P.  Greg-,  'The  Fylfot  and  Swastika,'  in 
Archoeologia,  1885,  p.  293  ff.  ;  G.  Dumoutier,  '  Le  Swastika  et 
la  roue  solaire  en  Chine,'  in  Revue  d'ethnographie,  Paris,  1885, 
vol.  iv.  p.  327 f.  ;  Goblet  d'Alviella,  'De  la  croix  gammee  ou 
swastika,'  in  Bulletins  de  VAcadimie  royale  de  Belgique,  1889; 
D.  G.  Brinton,  '  The  Ka-ti,  the  Swastika,  and  the  Cross  in 
America,'  in  Proceedings  of  the  Araer.  Philosophical  Society, 
vol.  xxvi.,  1889,  p.  177  ff.  M.  de  Zmigrodzki  has  collected,  in 
various  publications,  all  the  known  instances  of  the  gammadion 
(see  his  Geschichte  der  Swastika,  Brunswick,  1890,  and  his 
Przeglad  archeoloji,  Krakow,  1902).  As  for  the  literature  on 
the  subject,  Thomas  Wilson  mentions  in  the  Appendix  to  his 
work  The  Swastika  (Washington,  1896),  114  books  and  articles, 
besides  his  own,  dealing  with  the  gammate  cross. 

Goblet  dAlviella. 
CROSS  (American). — The  appearance  of  the 
cross  symbol  among  the  semi-civilized  and  savage 
peoples  of  America  in  all  probability  admits  of  a 
genuine  two-fold  interpretation.  It  amalgamates 
in  all  likelihood  two  cognate  ideas  :  (1)  that  of  the 
cross  as  a  symbol  of  the  four  winds  belonging  to 
or  emanating  from  the  four  cardinal  points  ;  (2) 
that  of  the  'world  tree,'  'tree  of  life,'  or  'tree  of 
our  flesh '  (Mexican  Tonacaquahuitl),  analogous  in 
some  ways  to  the  Scandinavian  Yggdrasil,  or  cosmic 
tree,  whose  roots  surrounded  the  universe.  The 
first,  in  its  pictorial  and  mural  form,  was  probably 
evolved  from  the  second  as  an  art  convention. 
There  can  be  no  question  of  the  genuine  aboriginal 
character  of  the  cross  symbol  as  found  in  America. 
Its  origin  appears  to  have  been  analogous  to  that 
of  the  symbol  in  use  in  the  Old  World — evolution 
from  a  symbol  of  the  four  cardinal  points ;  but 
any  hypothesis  of  its  importation   from   Europe 


330 


CROSS-ROADS 


or  Asia  would  require  much  weightier  proof  of 
European  or  Asiatic  colonization  than  has  yet 
been  advanced,  and  is  easily  discounted  by  the 
unquestionable  signs  of  its  wide-spread  aboriginal 
use  throughout  the  American  continent. 

On  the  discovery  of  Yucatan,  where  the  lieu- 
tenants of  Cortes  found  crosses  at  Cozumel  and 
elsewhere,  the  wildest  theories  were  propounded 
to  account  for  their  appearance  in  the  New  World. 
These  crosses  were  about  3  ft.  in  height,  and  were 
usually  found  in  an  enclosure  called  teopan,  or  the 
buildings  surrounding  a  temple.  The  Spanish  mis- 
sionaries believed  that  they  had  been  introduced 
by  the  apostle  St.  Thomas,  or  that  early  Spanish 
colonists,  driven  out  by  the  Moors,  had  sought 
refuge  in  America,  and  had  brought  with  them 
the  sacred  symbol.  The  missionaries  then  pro- 
ceeded to  inquire  after  representations  of  the 
Crucifixion  itself,  and  it  was  discovered  that  one 
had  existed  in  pictorial  form  on  a  manuscript 
which  had  been  Buried  to  prevent  its  destruction 
by  the  invaders,  but  which  had  subsequently 
rotted  underground.  This  figure  undoubtedly 
represented  a  human  sacrifice  to  the  Sun,  always 
intended  in  Mexico  when  the  word  'God'  (Teotl) 
was  employed,  as  in  the  present  instance,  without 
any  indication  of  the  particular  deity  which  the 
figure  was  meant  to  represent. 

I.  As  a  symbol  of  the  four  winds. — As  a  symbol 
of  the  four  cardinal  points  from  which  the  winds, 
and  therefore  the  rains,  came,  the  cross  was  well 
entitled  to  the  designation  of  '  tree  of  our  life '  in 
the  arid  climate  of  Yucatan.  To  each  quarter  of 
the  heavens  a  quarter  of  the  ritual  year  belonged. 
The  Aztec  goddess  of  rains,  Chalchiuhtlicue,  bore 
a  cross  in  her  hand,  as  most  of  the  principal  deities 
of  Egyptian  mythology  carry  a  cognate  symbol, 
the  ankh,  or  '  key  of  life ' ;  and,  in  the  feast  cele- 
brated in  her  honour  in  the  early  spring,  victims 
were  nailed  to  a  cross  and  shot  with  arrows. 
Quetzalcoatl,  as  god  of  the  winds,  is  represented 
as  carrying  a  species  of  cross,  and  his  robes 
were  decorated  with  cruciform  symbols.  The  form 
which  we  find,  for  example,  in  the  famous  bas- 
relief  of  Palenque,  and  which  was  also  discovered 
upon  the  temple  walls  of  Cozumel,  Popayan,  Cun- 
dinamarca,  and  elsewhere,  was  undoubtedly  a 
conventional  form  evolved  from  that  of  a  tree, 
consisting  of  the  lower  part  of  the  trunk  and  two 
cross  -  branches.  The  Mayan  designation  of  the 
cross  was  indeed  Vahom  che,  '  the  tree  erected  or 
set  up.'  In  the  Palenque  cross,  at  the  ends  of  the 
branches  knobs  appear,  which  are  probably  in- 
tended to  indicate  leaves  or  fruit.  On  the  summit 
is  perched  a  bird,  probably  a  turkey,  decked  out 
in  the  brilliant  plumage  of  more  brightly-feathered 
fowl.  The  cross  in  question  was  probably  regarded 
as  in  some  measure  the  pedestal  of  the  living  turkey- 
fetish.  The  flesh  of  the  turkey  was  a  staple  of 
Mexican  diet,  and  in  this  way,  it  may  be,  the  bird 
had  become  associated  with  the  idea  of  subsistence 
and  the  '  tree  of  life '  itself.  In  any  case  the  cross 
of  Palenque  was  known  as  Quetzalhuexoloquahuitl, 
or  'tree  of  the  plumed  turkey.'  A  priest  stands 
on  the  proper  right  of  the  bas-relief,  offering  as  a 
sacrifice  a  small  human  figure  made  from  maize 
paste,  and  not  a  newly-born  child,  as  some  authori- 
ties state.  On  the  proper  left  stands  an  acolyte, 
offering  up  a  stalk  of  maize.  At  the  roots  of  the 
cross  a  hideous  head  appears.  It  is  that  of  Cihuaco- 
huatl  (female  serpent),  or  Tonantzin  (our  Mother), 
to  give  her  her  Mexican  designation — the  earth- 
goddess,  the  most  bloodthirsty  of  the  Central 
American  deities  in  her  lust  for  human  flesh,  and 
the  one  from  whom  the  '  tree  of  life  '  has  its  being 
and  nourishment. 

Many  American  peoples  believe  in  the  efficacy 
of  the  cross  as  a  symbol  whereby  rain  may  be 


obtained.  The  rain-makers  of  the  Lenni  Lenape 
draw  the  figure  of  a  cross  upon  the  ground,  with 
its  extremities  towards  the  cardinal  points,  and  on 
this  they  place  a  gourd,  some  tobacco,  and  a  piece 
of  red  material,  afterwards  invoking  the  rain-spirit. 
The  Creeks,  at  the  ceremony  of  '  the  Busk,'  cele- 
brated to  the  four  winds,  dispose  four  logs  in  the 
shape  of  a  cross,  the  ends  of  which  are  set  to  the 
cardinal  points,  and  in  the  centre  of  these  they 
kindle  the  New  Year's  fire.  The  Blackfeet  used 
to  arrange  large  boulders  in  the  form  of  a  cross, 
on  the  prairies,  in  honour  of  Natose,  '  the  old  man 
who  sends  the  winds.'  The  Muyscas  of  Bogota, 
in  order  to  sacrifice  to  the  goddess  of  waters,  ex- 
tended ropes  across  a  lake,  thus  forming  a  gigantic 
cross,  at  the  point  of  intersection  of  which  they 
cast  in  offerings  of  precious  stones,  gold,  and  odor- 
iferous oils.  In  the  State  of  Wisconsin  many  low 
cruciform  mounds  are  found,  exactly  orientated. 
These  were  probably  altars  to  the  four  winds.  In 
the  mythology  of  the  Dakotas  the  winds  were 
always  conceived  as  birds ;  and  the  name  of  the  cross 
in  the  Dakotan  language  signifies  '  the  mosquito- 
hawk  spread  out.' 

2.  As  the  '  world  tree.' — In  those  Mexican  and 
Mayan  pictures  which  deal  with  cosmology  the 
world  tree  is  depicted  as  standing  in  the  centre  of 
the  universe,  its  roots  deep  in  the  waste  of  waters, 
its  branches  among  the  clouds,  as  if  in  search  of 
rain.  The  Mexicans  worshipped  the  tree  as  Tota 
(our  Father),  whom  they  further  described  as  '  god 
of  the  waters  and  of  vegetation,'  although  he  also 
appears  to  have  some  connexion  with  fire.  Among 
the  Kiche  (or  Quiche)  of  Guatemala,  women 
desirous  of  children  sought  out  a  tree  overhanging 
a  pool,  to  which  they  prayed  as  the  emblem  of 
fertility ;  and  this  indicates  the  possible  phallio 
origin  of  the  tree  of  life.  The  vox  che,  or  ceiba 
tree,  is  still  an  object  of  veneration  in  many  ham- 
lets of  Central  America.  The  sacred  pole  of  the 
Omahas  typifies  the  cosmic  tree,  the  centre  of  the 
four  winds,  and  the  dwelling  of  the  thunder-bird  ; 
and  tree-burial  among  the  western  tribes  of  North 
America  probably  bore  some  mythical  relation  to 
placing  the  dead  in  the  tree  of  life.  The  Mbocobis 
of  Paraguay  believe  in  a  tree  by  which  the  dead 
once  climbed  to  Paradise,  and  the  Yurucares  of 
Bolivia  in  one  whence  mankind  originally  emerged. 
The  sacred  tree  also  appears  symbolically  through- 
out America  in  the  form  of  the  poles  and  stakes 
which  surround  the  pray  er  -  houses  and  kivas  of 
many  American  tribes. 

Literature. — Ixtlilxochitl,  Historia  Chichimeca  (ed.  A. 
Chavero),  Mexico,  1891-92;  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Apologetica, 
Seville,  1662 ;  Sahagun,  Hist.  gen.  de  .  .  .  Nueva  Espafla,  lib.  i. 
cap.  ii.,  Mexico,  1829-30  ;  Garcia,  Origen  de  los  Indios,  lib.  iii. 
cap.  vi.,  Madrid,  1729 ;  Cogrolludo,  Hist,  de  Yucathan,  lib.  iv. 
cap.  ix.,  Madrid,  1688  ;  de  Charencey,  Le  Mythe  de  Votan, 
Alencon,  1871 ;  W.  H.  Holmes,  2  RBEW,  1883,  p.  270 f.  ;  art. 
'  Cross '  in  Handbook  of  American  Indians  (=30  Bull.  BE), 
i.  366  f.,  and  the  literature  there  cited. 

Lewis  Spence. 
CROSS-ROADS. — Cross-roads  are  very  gener- 
ally regarded  as  the  dwelling-place  or  resort  of  evil 
spirits,  ghosts,  etc.,  and  hence  are  considered  un- 
lucky or  even  dangerous,  while  various  expedients 
are  resorted  to  in  order  to  ward  off  their  dangers. 
On  the  other  hand,  they  are  sometimes  associated 
with  a  divinity — probably,  in  the  first  instance, 
because  images  of  the  divinity  were  placed  there  to 
counteract  the  powers  of  evil,  and  a  cult  of  the 
divinity  was  observed  at  the  cross-ways.  Or  they 
may  be  regarded  as  sacred  in  themselves.  Thus  in 
the  Avesta  a  formula  runs  :  '  We  sacrifice  ...  to 
the  forkings  of  the  highways  and  to  the  meeting 
of  the  roads '  (SBE  xxxi.  [1887]  291).  In  ancient 
India  they  were  not  to  be  defiled  or  obstructed 
(ib.  xxii.  [1884]  182,  xxxiii.  [1889]  158).  But  the 
reverence  for  such  a  divinity  of  cross-roads  was 
soon  mingled  with  the  fear  of  the  demoniac  in- 


CROSS-ROADS 


331 


fluences,  and  we  find  the  divinity  often  regarded  as 
sharing  in  the  characteristic  evil  and  horrible  traits 
of  the  very  demoniac  beings  which  he  or  she  was 
supposed  to  hold  at  hay.  The  association  of  evil 
beings  or  of  a  divinity  with  cross-roads  is  an 
extension  of  their  association  with  roads  in  general, 
and  is  already  found  among  some  lower  tribes  in 
connexion  with  the  rough  paths  leading  through 
forest  or  jungle,  and  with  their  intersections. 

I.  Burial  at  cross-roads. — (a)  There  is  evidence 
that  the  dead  were  sometimes  buried  at  cross-roads, 
and  this  would  be  one  reason  for  their  being 
regarded  as  particularly  ghost-haunted  places — a 
belief  which  is  certainly  very  remote  and  wide- 
spread. Among  the  ancient  Hindus  there  was  a 
practice  of  erecting  a  ddgoba  or  stupa  (a  mound  in 
which  the  bones  and  ashes  were  placed)  at  cross- 
roads. These  were  to  be  erected  there  in  honour 
of  a  king  of  kings  or  a  Tathagata  (Mahdpari- 
r.iobana  Sutta.  v.  26,  vi.  33  =  SBE  xi.  [1881]  93,  125  ; 
cf.  Oldenberg's  remarks,  Bel.  des  Veda,  Berlin, 
1894,  p.  562).  In  Slavic  lands,  cairns  and  tumuli 
are  often  found  at  cross-roads,  and  the  older  litera- 
ture sometimes  refers  to  a  cult  of  the  dead  there 
(Grimm,  Khinere  Schriften,  Berlin,  1865,  ii.  288). 
Other  instances  are  reported  among  the  Greeks, 
Germans,  etc.  (Lippert,  Rel.  der  europ.  Cultur- 
volker,  Berlin,  1881,  p.  310 ;  Wuttke,  Deutsche 
Vollcsabergl.  der  Gegenwart,  Berlin,  1900,  §  108  ; 
Winternitz,  Denkschr.  der  kais.  Akad.  der  Wis- 
sensch.,  Vienna,  xi.  [1892]  68).  In  Hungary,  per- 
sons believed  to  have  succumbed  to  the  malice  of 
a  witch  or  demon  were  sometimes  buried  at  cross- 
roads, to  deliver  them  from  this  influence,  as 
witches  had  no  power  there — an  unusual  belief 
(FLJ  ii.  [1884]  101).  This  is  an  instance  of  the 
riddance  of  evil  at  cross-roads  (see  §  5).  It  is  not 
impossible  that  one  reason  for  honourable  burial 
at  cross-roads  was  the  desire  for  re-incarnation. 
Among  the  Mongols,  among  many  N.  American 
tribes,  and  in  W.  Africa,  children  are  often  buried 
by  the  side  of  a  path  or  road,  in  order  that  the 
ghost  may  have  an  opportunity  of  entering  some 
woman  passing  that  way,  and  so  being  re-born  of 
her  (Letourneau,  Sociology,  1893,  p.  239 ;  Owen, 
Folk-lore  of  the  Musquakie  Jnd. ,  1902,  pp.  22-23,  86  ; 
Dorman,  Prim.  Superstitions,  Philadelphia,  1881, 
p.  35  ;  Kingsley,  Travels  in  W.  Africa,  1897,  p.  478). 
As  more  women  are  likely  to  pass  a  cross-way  than 
on  any  single  path,  the  chances  of  re-incarnation 
would  be  greater  there. 

(b)  But  in  the  case  of  persons  whose  ghosts  are 
regarded  as  dangerous,  another  reason  for  burial 
at  cross-roads  must  be  sought.  Among  such  per- 
sons are  those  who  have  committed  suicide,  and 
occasionally  murder.  Custom  and  law  in  England 
prescribed  that  the  suicide  should  be  buried  at  a 
cross-road,  with  a  stake  driven  through  his  body. 
A  stone  was  also  placed  over  the  face  (Stephen, 
Hist,  of  Crim.  Law,  1883,  iii.  105  ;  FL  viii.  [1897] 
199.  The  custom  was  abolished  in  1823).  Criminals 
also  were  executed  at  cross-roads,  e.g.  Tyburn,  the 
meeting-place  of  the  London,  Oxford,  and  Edge- 
ware  roads.  Stake  and  stone  were  intended  to 
prevent  the  restless  ghost  from  wandering  and 
troubling  the  neighbourhood.  It  has  also  been 
suggested  that  the  constant  traffic  over  the  grave 
would  help  to  keep  the  ghost  down,  or  that  the 
number  of  roads  would  confuse  it,  and  so  prevent 
its  finding  its  way  home,  or  that  the  cross  would 
act  as  a  disperser  of  the  evil  energy  concentrated 
in  the  body  or  the  ghost,  or  that  sacrificial 
victims  (these  being  frequently  criminals)  were 
formerly  slain  on  the  altars  at  cross-roads,  which 
were  therefore  regarded  as  fitting  places  for  the 
execution  and  burial  of  criminals,  after  the  intro- 
duction of  Christianity  (FL  viii.  264  ;  Westermarck, 
MI,    1908,    ii.    256 ;  EBr11   vii.   510).     To   this  it 


should  be  added  that  suicides  were  generally  buried 
in  out-of-the-way  places  ;  and  the  cross-roads,  bein» 
a  place  of  evil  repute,  would  naturally  be  selected 
for  the  grave.  The  underlying  thought  is  that  of 
riddance  of  the  contagion  of  evil,  and  in  no  better 
place  could  this  be  effected  than  at  the  cross-roads 
(see  §  5).  A  parallel  custom  of  burying  at  the  cross- 
roads the  bodies  of  children  still-born  or  born 
feet-foremost  (a  mode  considered  unlucky)  is  found 
in  Uganda,  where  also  the  bodies  of  suicides,  with 
the  tree  on  which  they  hanged  themselves  or  the 
hut  in  which  they  took  their  lives,  were  burned  at 
cross-roads.  And  it  is  noticeable  that  women  who 
pass  that  way  throw  a  few  blades  of  grass,  or  sticks, 
or  stones,  on  the  grave  to  prevent  the  spirits  from 
entering  them  and  being  re-born  (Roscoe, '  Manners 
and  Customs  of  the  Baganda,'  JAIxxxii.  [1902]  30, 
and  Frazer,  Totemism  and  Exogamy,  1910,  ii.  507, 
iii.  152).  In  Greece,  persons  who  murdered  father, 
mother,  brother,  or  child  were  slain  at  a  place  out- 
side the  walls  where  three  roads  met,  and  their 
bodies  were  exposed  naked  (Plato,  Leg.  ix.  873). 

2.  Ghosts,  spirits,  and  demons  at  cross-roads. 
— Cross-roads  are  universally  believed  to  be  the 
common  resort  of  evil  spirits.  As  places  of  burial, 
cross-roads  would  naturally  be  haunted  by  the 
ghosts  of  the  dead ;  but  also,  as  ghosts  would  be  often 
passing  along  the  roads  from  other  places  of  burial 
to  their  former  homes,  they  would  be  more  numer- 
ous at  cross-roads.  The  ghostly  train  is  often 
seen  on  roads,  but  more  particularly  at  their  inter- 
sections ;  hence,  to  see  them  one  would  naturally 
go  there,  as  in  the  Abruzzi,  where,  at  the  festival 
of  the  dead,  the  thronging  ghosts  can  be  seen  at 
the  cross-ways  by  any  one  standing  there  with  his 
chin  resting  on  a  forked  stick  (Finamore,  Credenze, 
usi,  e  costumi  abruzzesi,  Palermo,  1890,  pp.  180-2). 
But,  besides  ghosts,  all  kinds  of  evil  powers  frequent 
the  cross-ways.  This  is  a  wide-spread  belief  in 
India,  one  particular  class  of  demoniac  beings — 
bhuts — being  usually  found  at  cross-roads,  while 
other  '  waylayers '  lurk  there  also  (Oldenberg,  267  ; 
Crooke,  PR  i.  290 ;  FL  viii.  330  ;  SEE  xxx.  [1892] 
49).  Among  the  Muhammadan  peoples,  cross- 
roads are  one  of  the  numerous  resorts  of  the  jinn 
(Lane,  Arabian  Society,  1883,  p.  37).  In  Russia, 
vampires  are  thought  to  lurk  by  night  at  cross- 
roads, ready  to  attack  the  belated  traveller  ( Ralston, 
Russ.  Folk-Tales,  1873,  p.  311).  In  Europe  gener- 
ally, witches  were  associated  with  the  cross-ways. 
There  they  gathered  up  money  scattered  by  the 
devil ;  there,  too,  they  met,  and,  in  some  cases,  the 
Sabbat  was  held  at  the  junction  of  roads,  especially 
on  Walpurgis  night,  when  they  might  be  seen  by 
him  who  put  on  his  clothes  inside  out  and  crept 
backwards  to  the  place  ;  while  the  ringing  of  conse- 
crated bells  on  that  night  hindered  their  dancing 
with  the  devil  at  cross-roads  (Grimm,  Teut.  Myth. 
[Eng.  tr.  1880-8],  1074,  1115,  1799,  1803,  1824; 
Stewart,  Superstitions  of  Witchcraft,  1865,  p.  128). 
On  the  other  hand,  witches  are  occasionally  re- 
garded as  having  no  power  at  cross-roads.  In 
Naples  it  is  held  that  they  must  go  round  them  on 
their  way  to  a  meeting,  as  they  cannot  pass  them  ; 
and  in  Hungary  cross-roads  are  believed  to  neutralize 
their  evil  powers  (FL  viii.  3  ;  FLJ  ii.  101).  Here, 
probably,  the  form  of  the  cross  acts  as  a  prophy- 
lactic. Sprites,  kobolds,  and  fairies  are  also 
sporadically  associated  with  cross-roads  (Grimm, 
83S,  1115  ;  Goethe,  Faust,  III.  i.  40).  In  mediaeval 
superstition  there  was  no  better  place  than  a 
cross-road  for  the  purpose  of  evoking  evil  spirits, 
especially  the  devil,  and  making  a  compact  with 
them.  The  magical  treatises  then  current  explicitly 
set  this  forth  ;  thus  the  Clavicula  Solomonis  says  : 
'  For  magical  operations  a  secret,  remote,  deserted, 
and  uninhabited  place  is  necessary,  but  best  of  all 
are  the  cross- ways.' 


332 


CROSS-ROADS 


This  notion  is  found  in  the  6th  cent,  story  of  Theophilus,  and 
in  the  old  tradition  it  was  at  a  cross-road  near  Wittenberg  that 
Faust  sold  himself  to  the  devil.  The  custom  was  to  go  to  the 
cross-way  by  night,  and  there  make  a  magic  circle  in  which 
cabalistic  signs  were  inscribed,  and  then  to  call  up  the  devil. 
Similarly,  witches  made  their  compact  with  Satan  at  cross- ways. 
In  the  case  of  the  Swedish  witches  in  the  17th  cent.,  they  first 
put  on  a  garment  over  their  heads  and  danced  near  a  cross-road. 
Then,  going  to  the  cross-road,  they  thrice  called  on  the  devil  to 
come  and  carry  them  to  the  meeting-ground.  When  he  appeared 
they  promised  to  serve  him  bod}'  and  soul,  and  he  then  conveyed 
them  to  the  Sabbat  (Grimm,  1074  ;  Baring-Gould,  Curious  Myths, 
1888,  p.  630 ;  Hist.  .  .  .  de  Jean  Fauste,  Amsterdam,  1674  ; 
Gdrres,  Die  ckristl.  Mystik,  Regensburg,  1842,  bk.  vi.  ch.  16 ; 
Wright,  Narratives  of  Sorcery  and  Magic,  1851,  i.  134,  ii.  249 f .). 
For  these  reasons,  wayfarers  took  precautions  at 
the  cross- ways.  In  India,  mantras  must  he  said  ; 
e.g.  at  a  bridal  procession  the  bridegroom  had  to 
say, '  May  no  waylayers  meet  us  ! '  They  should  not 
be  stopped  at,  and  the  traveller  should  pass  with 
his  right  hand  turned  to  them  (SBE  ii.  226,  vii.  200, 
xxv.  135,  150,  xxx.  49).  Similarly,  in  Sweden,  no 
bridegroom  will  stand  near  a  cross-road  on  his 
wedding-day — a  precaution  against  'envy  and 
malice '  (Chambers,  Book  of  Days,  1863,  i.  45).  See 
also  §  5. 

The  origin  of  the  belief  in  the  presence  of  evil 
agencies  at  cross-roads  may  be  found  in  the  simple 
fact  that,  as  people  were  more  numerous  at  cross- 
roads, so  naturally  would  all  evil  powers  be,  such 
at  least  as  were  so  often  associated  with  roads  or 
paths.  Men  always  fear  demons  and  spirits  which 
they  believe  lurk  on  the  edge  of  the  forest  path  or 
rude  roadway,  ready  to  pounce  upon  the  belated 
traveller,  and  in  many  cases  roads  are  believed  to 
be  infested  by  them  (Monier-Williams,  Bel.  Thought 
and  Life  in  India,  1883,  p.  216  ;  Maspero,  Dawn  of 
Civilization,  1894,  pp.  632,  636).  Hence  they  would 
be  regarded  as  lurking  at  the  intersections  of  roads, 
especially  by  night,  when  wayfarers  were  uncertain 
of  the  direction  in  which  they  ought  to  go  (cf .  Ovid, 
Fasti,  v.  3).  A  further  reason  may  be  sought  in 
the  fact  that  paths  and  roads  often  form  bound- 
aries, as  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  images  and 
altars  of  boundary-gods  often  stood  on  roadways 
(MacPherson,  Khonds,  1865,  p.  67  ;  cf.  §  3).  Rites  of 
riddance  and  aversion  intended  to  drive  evil  powers 
off  the  fields  or  tribal  lands  would,  in  common 
belief,  have  the  tendency  to  force  them  on  to  the 
boundaries — a  kind  of  neutral  ground  (for  such 
rites,  see  Frazer,  GBi,  1900,  iii.  ch.  3,  §§  13,  14,  15, 
passim ;  Ralston,  Songs  of  the  Russian  People, 
1872,  pp.  211,  396).  And,  as  boundary  so  frequently 
signified  road,  or  was  marked  by  a  pathway  (as  in 
Samoa  [Brown,  Melanesians  and  Polynesians,  1910, 
p.  339]  ;  see  other  examples  in  this  art. ),  there  would 
here  be  another  reason  for  evil  spirits  haunting 
roads.  Hence  the  cross- ways,  where  boundaries  or 
paths  met,  for  the  reason  given  above,  would  again 
be  more  open  to  their  presence  and  influence.  Evil 
powers  associated  with  cross-roads  are,  in  fact, 
often  stated  to  be  also  found  on  roads  and  bound- 
aries, or  a  boundary-stone  is  found  at  cross-ways 
(cf.  Grimm,  1051,  1113,  1804,  1821  ;  Crooke,  PR 
i.  290).  Hence  magical  rites  which  are  effective  on 
roads  are  still  more  effective  at  cross-roads,  as  many 
instances  of  their  use  in  both  cases  show. 

3.  Divinities  at  cross-roads. — Divinities  are 
frequently  associated  with  cross-roads.  This  is 
sometimes  with  the  intention  of  repelling  those 
evil  powers  which  otherwise  would  throng  them, 
though,  as  examples  show,  there  is  a  tendency  for 
the  protective  divinity  to  take  on  some  of  the 
aspects  of  those  evil  powers,  as  in  the  case  of 
Hecate.  Or  again,  since  evil  powers  are  connected 
with  cross-roads,  divinities  whose  character  is  evil 
rather  than  good  are  often  worshipped  or  propiti- 
ated there. 

In  India,  from  early  times,  the  cross-ways  were 
the  abode  of  sinister  gods,  especially  of  Rudra, 
lord  of  ghosts  and  of  evil  powers  generally,  who 


was  propitiated  at  the  yearly  festival  of  the  dead 
by  a  sacrifice  of  cakes — the  offering  to  Rudra  Try- 
ambaka,  for  the  deliverance  of  descendants  from 
his  power,  and  for  the  securing  of  his  beneficent 
action.  This  was  offered  at  cross-roads,  because 
Rudra  roves  on  the  roads,  and  '  the  cross-road  is 
known  to  be  his  favourite  haunt'  (Satapatha- 
Brahmana,  SBE  xii.  [1882]  408,  438  f. ).  The  cross- 
road is  also  the  halting-place  of  the  Agnis  (ib.  439, 
n.  1).  Travellers  addressed  both  paths  and  cross- 
roads with  mantras :  '  Adoration  to  Rudra,  who 
dwells  on  paths ;  adoration  to  R.,  who  dwells  at 
cross-roads'  (ib.  xxix.  366,  xxx.  180).  In  the 
yearly  ritual  the  connexion  of  ghosts  with  the 
cross- ways  is  also  apparent.  Lesser  evil  divinities 
also  had  their  cult  at  cross-ways,  but  usually 
for  specific  purposes — the  repelling  of  disease  or 
demoniac  influence,  or  the  contagion  of  evil.  To 
get  rid  of  disease,  one  should  go  by  night,  naked, 
to  a  cross-way,  and  there  make  an  offering  of  rice 
with  a  mantra,  returning  in  silence  without  looking 
back.  This  must  be  repeated  until  the  evil  spirit 
(Pisacha)  appears  and  says,  '  I  will  end  your  ail- 
ment' (Katha-sarit-sagara,  Tawney's  ed.,  1895, 
i.  256).  The  sacred  writings  also  ordain  that  a 
student  who  has  broken  a  vow  of  chastity  must 
offer  an  ass  to  Nirriti,  goddess  of  destruction,  at  a 
cross-way,  then  put  on  the  skin  and  proclaim  his  sin 
(SBE  ii.  [1897]  289  ;  cf.  xxix.  361).  Elsewhere  he  is 
directed  to  light  a  fire  at  the  cross- ways,  and  to  offer 
an  ass  to  the  Raksasas  and  an  oblation  of  rice  to 
Nirriti  (ib.  xiv.  [1882]  117  ff.). 

In  Japan,  phallic  symbols,  chimata-no-lcami,  or 
'  road-fork  gods,'  were  set  up  on  roads,  and  wor- 
shipped at  cross-roads  and  waysides,  as  protectors 
of  travellers.  They  were  said  to  have  been  pro- 
duced from  the  articles  thrown  down  by  Izanagi  in 
his  flight  from  Hades,  or  at  his  purification  (see 
vol.  ii.  p.  700b).  Their  festivals  were  held  at  cross- 
roads outside  the  capital,  or  at  the  frontier,  at  the 
end  of  the  6th  and  12th  months,  or  in  time  of  pes- 
tilence, while  offerings  took  place  at  other  times. 
Other  phallic  symbols,  sahi-no-kami,  or '  preventive 
deities,'  were  also  worshipped  at  roads  and  cross- 
roads, and  hence  came  to  be  regarded  as  guides  and 
friends  of  wayfarers.  Their  cult  was  popular,  they 
were  inquired  of  in  divination,  or  prayed  to  before 
a  journey ;  or  an  offering  was  made  to  them  by 
travellers  on  their  journey.  Accidents  on  a  jour- 
ney were  the  result  of  neglecting  them.  But  the 
primitive  function  of  all  these  deities  seems  to  have 
been  that  for  which  they  are  still  addressed  in  the 
liturgies,  viz.  protection  against  the  unfriendly 
beings  and  evil  spirits  of  pestilence  from  Hades. 

'Whenever  from  the  Root-country,  the  Bottom-country 
[  =  Wades],  there  may  come  savage  and  unfriendly  beings, 
consort  not  and  parley  not  with  them,  but,  if  they  go  below, 
keep  watch  below;  if  they  go  above,  keep  watch  above,  pro- 
tecting us  against  pollution  with  a  night  guarding  and  with  ft 
day  guarding.' 

Three  of  these  are  mentioned  in  one  norito — Yachimata-hiko, 
the  Eight-road-fork  prince,  Yachimata-hime,  the  Eight-road-fork 
princess,  and  Kunado,  whose  name,  'Come-not  place,'  is  sug- 
gestive of  his  functions  as  a  repeller  of  evil  beings.  The  first 
two  are  represented  as  male  and  female  figures  with  sexual 
organs,  the  last  as  a  simple  phallus.  Another  phallic  god, 
Saruta-hiko,  dwells  at  the  eight  cross-ways  of  Heaven,  and  is 
said  to  have  acted  as  guide  to  Ninighi  on  his  coming  to  earth. 
He  is  also  called  Dosojin,  or  'Road-ancestor  deity,'  and  is 
found  at  cross-ways  in  the  form  of  a  phallic  boulder,  over  which 
is  stretched  a  rope  supported  by  bamboos.  Jizo,  the  Buddhist 
children's  god,  now  occupies  his  place  at  cross-ways  (Aston, 
Shinto,  1905,  pp.  306,  187,  189,  191,  197,  340). 

The  phallic  origin  of  these  gods,  in  accordance 
with  the  well-known  property  ascribed  to  the 
sexual  organs  as  warders  off  of  evil  spirits,  their 
protective  powers  against  demoniac  and  pestilen- 
tial influences,  and  their  ultimate  position  as  gods 
of  travellers  recall  the  position  of  the  Greek  Hermes 
and  the  Hermse  (cf.  p.  333b). 

Among  the  Teutonic  peoples  occurred  a  yearly 
procession  of  the  image  of  a' god  or  goddess  (Frey, 


CROSS-ROADS 


333 


Nerthus,  Holda,  Berchta,  etc.)  round  each  district, 
for  the  purpose  of  promoting  fertility  (Tac.  Germ. 
40 ;  Grimm,  213,  251,  268,  275).  In  later  tradition 
the  remembrance  of  this  procession  was  mingled 
with  the  myth  of  the  Furious  Host  or  the  witches' 
jaunt,  headed  by  one  of  those  divinities — a  myth 
which  in  pagan  times  told  of  an  aerial  course  of 
the  god  or  goddess  with  their  subordinates,  corre- 
sponding to  the  course  of  their  images  followed  by 
the  jubilant  crowd  on  earth.  It  was  connected 
with  the  latter,  and  perhaps  in  part  originated 
from  it,  as  an  setiological  myth  (cf.  Grimm,  1055- 
56).  These  processions,  doubtless,  went  round  the 
boundaries,  and  the  divinity  would  then  be  associ- 
ated with  boundaries,  and  so  with  roads  and  cross- 
ways.  In  some  of  the  later  traditions,  cross-roads 
appear  to  be  unlucky  to  these  wandering  hosts, 
now  become  demoniac  and  associated  with  sorcery, 
with  the  devil  and  witches.  Berchta's  waggon 
breaks  down  at  the  cross-roads,  so  also  does  that 
of  Frau  Gauden,  and  the  help  of  a  mortal  is  neces- 
sary to  repair  it  (see  the  traditional  tales  in  Grimm, 
275,  926).  Perhaps  there  is  here  a  distorted  remin- 
iscence of  a  halting  of  the  procession  of  the  image 
and  waggon  at  cross-roads,  either  for  a  sacrifice  to 
the  divinity,  or  for  the  performance  of  some  rite 
by  which  his  or  her  protection  would  be  secured 
against  the  evil  powers  of  the  cross-roads.  Later, 
when  the  divinity  became  a  more  or  less  demoniac 
being,  the  folk-memory  of  the  halting  of  the  waggon 
produced  the  story  that  the  waggon  broke  down. 
The  divinity  no  longer  repelled  evil  influences  at 
cross-roads,  but  was  now  subject  to  these  influences, 
cross-roads  being  unlucky  to  him  or  her,  as  in  the 
case  of  witches  (cf.  §  2).  On  the  other  hand,  it  is 
not  impossible  that  offerings  were  laid  at  cross- 
roads for  the  divinities  to  partake  of  in  their  aerial 
wanderings,  as  in  the  case  of  Hecate.  As  her 
images  stood  there,  so  probably  images  of  some  of 
ihese  Teutonic  divinities  may  have  been  set  up  at 
cross-roads.  This  is  suggested  by  traces  of  a  cult 
to  gods  or  ghosts  of  the  dead  at  cross-roads  (the 
haunt  of  souls),  anathematized  by  the  Church. 
Prayers,  offerings,  and  the  consumption  of  such 
offerings,  votive  offerings  (vota;  pedum  similitudines 
quas  per  bivia  ponunt),  and  the  ritual  lighting  of 
candles  and  torches  at  cross-ways  (bivia,  trivia)  are 
all  forbidden,  and  the  prohibitions  probably  apply 
to  Celtic  as  well  as  to  Teutonic  custom  (S.  Eligius 
and  Burchard,  in  Grimm,  1738, 1744 ;  de  la  Saussaye, 
Religion  of  the  Teutons,  Boston,  1902,  p.  290 ; 
Grimm,  Kleinere  Schr.  ii.  288).  Sitting  on  a  bull's 
hide  at  cross-ways  in  order  to  consult  the  future 
is  also  forbidden.  The  hide  was  probably  that  of 
an  animal  sacrificed  there  (Grimm,  1744,  and  cf. 
his  comment,  1115,  and  the  common  ritual  use  of 
the  skins  of  sacrificial  victims  elsewhere).  Divini- 
ties were  also  sometimes  seen  at  cross-roads  by 
their  worshippers  (Grimm,  1202).  The  cult  of 
divinities,  Teutonic  and  •  Celtic,  at  cross-roads  is 
further  borne  witness  to  in  the  occasional  refer- 
ences in  witch-trials  to  ghastly  offerings  made  to 
demoniac  powers  (their  successors)  at  cross-roads, 
as  in  the  trial  of  Alice  Kyteler  and  her  accomplices 
at  Ossory  in  the  14th  cent.,  in  which  there  is  refer- 
ence to  a  sacrifice  of  living  animals  torn  limb  from 
limb  and  scattered  at  cross-roads,  or  of  nine  red 
cocks  and  nine  peacocks'  eyes  (Wright,  i.  28,  30). 

Among  the  Greeks,  Hecate,  a  goddess  whose  cult 
was  probably  introduced  from  the  north,  and  who 
had  several  varying  aspects,  was  associated  with 
cross-roads  as  Hecate  rpiodiTis.  Her  primitive  con- 
nexion with  these  and  also  with  roads  and  doorways 
was  probably  that  of  an  averter  of  ill.  Her  images 
or  symbolic  figures  stood  before  doors  and  at  cross- 
ways,  to  keep  out  ghosts  and  to  counteract  the 
gloomy  influences  pre  vailing  at  cross- way  s.  In  both 
eases  the  chief  evil  influence  to  be  averted  was  that 


of  the  ghosts  of  the  dead.  These  images  were  called 
ixdraia,  and  frequently  represented  her  in  triple 
form.  Through  her  connexion  with  roads  and 
cross-roads,  she,  as  Hecate  ivoSla,  was  the  helper 
and  guide  of  travellers  who  sought  her  aid  (schol. 
ad  Theocr.  ii.  12).  But  she  was  also  regarded  in 
a  more  sinister  light.  As  an  infernal  goddess,  she 
was  ruler  of  ghosts,  phantoms,  and  demons,  causing 
them  to  appear  on  earth  to  frighten  travellers,  asso- 
ciated with  sorcery,  and  seen  often  on  moonlight 
nights  with  her  ghostly  train  and  baying  hounds, 
like  the  Teutonic  Holda.  In  this  character  she 
was  more  particularly  Hecate  Tpljxop<j>oi,  of  a  mali- 
cious and  dangerous  nature.  Hence  she  had  to  be 
invoked  and  propitiated,  lest  she  should  send  harm 
on  men.  The  triple  form  of  the  goddess  has  been 
variously  explained,  but,  in  all  probability,  it  arose 
from  the  fact  that  her  images  at  cross-ways  had 
faces  looking  down  the  converging  roads,  so  as  to 
watch  over  each.  In  her  we  see  a  goddess  who,  at 
first  regarded  as  an  averter  of  ills,  is  later  associ- 
ated with  those  very  ills  which  she  averts.  She 
can  keep  them  at  bay,  or  she  can  cause  them  to 
appear,  and  she  herself  is  imaged  in  their  sinister 
forms.  Offerings  were  made  to  Hecate  at  cross- 
roads, and  her  images  there  were  consulted  for 
divination.  Monthly  offerings  were  made  to  her 
at  cross-roads  by  rich  people,  in  order  to  get  rid  of 
evil  influences  and  to  render  her  favourable.  These 
werecalled'EKdTT/iSenn'a,  or  'suppers  of  Hecate,' and 
included  cakes  set  round  with  candles,  fish,  eggs, 
cheese,  honey,  etc.  These  dishes  of  food  were  often 
consumed  by  the  poor.  They  were  connected  with 
the  rites  of  riddance  performed  in  her  name.  Houses 
were  swept  and  fumigated,  and  the  sweepings  taken 
away  in  a  potsherd  to  a  cross-road,  and  there  thrown 
down,  the  bearer  going  away  without  looking  back. 
It  would  be  natural  also  to  get  rid  of  the  food  re- 
maining in  the  house  before  the  purification.  Thus 
the  evils,  or  the  ghosts  which  had  infested  the  house, 
were  sent  away,  and  the  ceremony  may  only  acci- 
dentally have  been  connected  with  the  goddess  of 
cross-roads.  It  resembles  other  rites  of  riddance 
at  cross-roads,  primitive  in  character,  and  usually 
unconnected  with  a  divinity  (see  §  5).  These  puri- 
fications were  called  d^vSifiia  (see  flarpocrat.  and 
Suidas,  s.v.  ;  schol.  on  iEsch.  Choeph.  v.  96 ;  Plut. 
Qurnst.  Rom.  iii. ,  Quatst.  Conv.  708  F ;  schol.  on 
Arist.  Plut.  594 ;  Lucian,  Dial.  Mart.  i.  1 ;  Athen- 
seus,  vii.  125,  127,  viii.  57,  xiv.  53  ;  Porph.  de  Abstin. 
ii.  28).  Travellers  also  deposited  offerings  at  cross- 
roads. An  eetiological  myth  told  how  Hecate,  as 
a  newly  born  infant,  was  exposed  at  a  cross-way, 
but  rescued  and  brought  up  by  shepherds  (schol. 
on  Lycophron,  1180).  This  probably  points  to  an 
actual  custom  of  exposure  at  cross-roads  (found 
also  in  ChaldEea),  made  use  of  to  explain  Hecate's 
connexion  with  them. 

Hermes,  as  god  of  roads  and  boundaries,  and  of 
travellers,  was  also  associated  with  the  cross- ways 
as  an  averter  of  ills.  On  roads  and  boundaries, 
but  especially  at  cross-roads,  stood  a  heap  of  stones 
with  a  pillar,  later  rudely  shaped  in  human  form. 
The  passer-by  added  a  stone  to  the  heap,  as  a  rite 
of  riddance  and  in  order  to  avert  the  evil  in- 
fluences associated  with  the  place.  These  became 
the  more  shapely  Hermse  of  later  times,  used  as 
boundary  and  mile  and  direction  posts,  and  placed 
at  cross-roads  as  well  as  on  streets,  roads,  and  at 
doors.  The  phallus  was  a  prominent  object  upon 
them  (Herod,  ii.  51),  in  accordance  with  the  belief 
in  phallic  emblems  as  averters  of  ill.  As  in  the 
case  of  the  Hekataia,  these  Hermse  had  often 
several  heads,  and  for  the  same  reason.  Offerings 
were  made  to  them,  and  were  sometimes  eaten  by 
hungry  wayfarers.  Theophrastus  in  his  Char- 
acters describes  the  pious  man  pouring  oil  on  the 
sacred  stones  (Hermse)  at  cross-roads,  falling  on 


334 


CROSS-ROADS 


his  knees  and  saying  a  prayer  before  passing  on 
his  way.    Cf .  Aryan  Religion,  vol.  ii.  p.  36  f. 

Christianity  replaced  the  divine  images  at  cross- 
ways  by  crucifixes  or  images  and  shrines  of  the 
Madonna.  At  the  latter,  especially,  flowers  and 
candles  are  offered  and  prayers  said,  exactly  as  in 
the  case  of  the  Hermse  and  Hekataia  (Trede,  Das 
fleidenthum  in  der  rom.  Kirche,  Gotha,  1S91, 
iv.  205,  208). 

An  example  of  a  cult  of  a  divinity  at  cross- 
roads from  a  lower  level  of  civilization  is  found 
among  the  Yaos  of  the  Shire  Highlands  who, 
when  on  a  journey,  offer  a  little  flour  to  the 
god  Mulungu  at  a  place  where  two  ways  meet, 
exactly  as  in  the  case  of  Greek  and  Roman 
travellers,  to  Hecate,  Hermes,  or  the  Lares  (see 
vol.  ii.  p.  358"). 

4.  Omens  at  cross-roads. — The  connexion  of 
supernatural  beings,  divine  or  demoniac,  with  cross- 
roads caused  these  to  be  regarded  as  places  where 
omens  might  be  sought.  In  East  Central  Africa 
a  traveller  who  comes  to  a  cross-way  lays  two 
roots,  carried  for  the  purpose  of  divination,  against 
the  blade  of  a  knife  laid  horizontally.  He  points 
to  one  road  saying,  '  Shall  I  take  this  one  ? '  If  the 
roots  remain  still,  he  takes  it.  If  they  fall,  he 
takes  the  other  (Macdonald,4/"c«ra«,  1882,  i.  215). 
This  resembles  the  rite  used  by  the  king  of  Babylon, 
probably  to  discover  whether  he  should  proceed  on 
the  way  to  Jerusalem  to  attack  it.  He  '  stood  at 
the  parting  of  the  way,  at  the  head  of  the  two  ways, 
to  use  divination  :  he  shook  the  arrows  to  and  fro, 
he  consulted  the  teraphim,  he  looked  in  the  liver ' 
(Ezk  2121).  In  Germany  it  was  a  custom  to  listen 
at  a  cross-way  on  Christmas  or  New -Year  at  mid- 
night. In  this  way  the  seeker  heard  or  saw  what 
would  befall  him  during  the  year.  Or,  if  he  heard 
horses  neigh  or  swords  rattle,  there  would  be  war 
(Grimm,  1113,  1812,  1819).  The  listening  was 
intended  to  catch  what  the  spirits  were  saying  as 
to  coming  events.  In  Japan  a  method  of  cross- 
road divination  {tsuji-ura),  used  by  women  and 
lovers,  is  to  place  a  stick  representing  the  god 
Kunado  at  a  cross- way  at  dusk,  and  to  interpret 
the  words  spoken  by  passers-by  as  an  answer  to  the 
question  put  by  the  inquirer.  Another  method  is 
to  sound  a  comb  three  times  at  a  cross-road  by 
drawing  the  finger  along  it,  then,  worshipping  the 
sahi-no-kami,  to  say  thrice, '  0  thou  god  of  the  cross- 
roads-divination, grant  me  a  true  response.'  The 
answer  is  found  in  the  words  spoken  by  the  next 
or  the  third  passer-by  (Aston,  340).  With  this 
may  be  compared  a  Persian  custom  of  sitting  at 
cross-ways  by  night  and  applying  to  oneself  as  an 
omen  of  good  or  evil  all  that  is  said  by  passers 
(J.  Atkinson,  Women  of  Persia,  1832,  p.  11).  In 
Germany  a  girl  went  to  a  cross-road  to  discover 
whether  she  would  be  married  during  the  year,  or 
she  shook  out  a  table-cloth  there.  Then  a  man 
appeared  and  saluted  her.  The  future  husband 
would  be  of  the  same  height  and  appearance 
(Grimm,  1115,  1797).  An  old  Hindu  custom  for  a 
man  to  discover  whether  a  girl  will  make  a  good 
wife  is  to  let  her  choose  one  of  several  clods  taken 
from  lucky  and  unlucky  places,  one  of  the  latter 
being  a  cross-road  (Oldenberg,  510).  In  India  the 
balance  for  ordeals  was  erected  at  a  temple  or  in  a 
cross-road — a  favourite  abode  of  Dharmaraja,  the 
god  of  justice,  when  he  appears  on  earth  (SBE 
xxxiii.  [1889]  104). 

5.  Magical  rites  at  cross-roads. — The  sinister 
character  of  cross-roads  made  them  particularly 
efficacious  as  places  to  perform  charms  and  magical 
rites,  especially  of  aversion  or  riddance  of  demoniac 
influences  (cf.  p.  331b,  bottom :  'best  of  all  are  the 
cross- ways 'J.1    Evil  powers,  or  perhaps  the  divini- 

1  Kozma  is  of  the  opinion  that  the  use  of  the  sign  of  the  cross 
\a  charms  has  no  reference  to  Christianity,  but  to  the  form  of 


ties  whose  images  stood  there,  lent  their  influence  to 
the  success  of  the  rite.  A  few  examples  of  general 
magical  rites  may  he  cited  first.  Sitting  out  or 
working  spells  at  cross- ways  was  used  among  the 
Teutons  as  an  evil  kind  of  magic,  for  raising 
tempests,  etc.  The  details  are  not  known  (Vig- 
fusson-Powell,  Corpus  Poet.  Boreale,  Oxford,  1883, 
i.  413).  In  the  Hindu  Grhya  Sutra,  visiting  a 
cross-road  at  twilight,  lighting  a  fire  there,  offering 
rice  and  repeating  charms,  together  with  other 
ritual  observances,  is  recommended  to  those  who 
desire  gold,  or  companions,  or  a  long  life,  or  who 
wish  to  be  rulers,  etc.  (SBE  xxix.  431,  xxx.  119, 
124,  125).  A  charm  for  recovering  lost  property  is 
addressed  to  Pushan,  the  sun,  who  watches  over 
the  ways,  and  the  rite  includes  placing  21  pebbles 
at  a  cross-way.  They  are  symbolic  of  the  lost 
property,  and  counteract  its  lost  condition  (Atharva- 
Veda  [SBE  xlii.  159,  542]).  In  Kumaon,  to  cause 
rain  to  cease,  a  harrow  is  fixed  perpendicularly  at 
a  cross-way.  The  god  of  rain,  seeing  it  in  this 
unusual  condition  at  such  a  place,  learns  that  in- 
justice is  being  done,  and  makes  the  rain  cease. 
Or  sugar,  rice,  and  other  objects  used  in  ritual  are 
placed  at  a  cross- way  and  defiled,  till  the  rain  is 
ashamed  to  fall  on  them  (PB  i.  76-77).  At  Naples, 
to  detach  a  husband  from  his  mistress,  a  wife  goes 
barefoot  and  with  unbound  hair  to  a  cross- way. 
There  she  takes  a  pebble,  places  it  under  her  left 
armpit,  and  repeats  an  incantation.  This  is  done 
at  a  second  cross- way,  with  the  pebble  under  the 
right  arm,  and  at  a  third,  having  it  between  the 
chin  and  breast.  Returning  home,  she  throws  it 
into  a  cesspool  (Andrews,  FL  viii.  7).  This  is  an 
example  of  the  belief  that  all  things  at  cross-ways 
are  charged  with  the  magic  or  evil  energy  concen- 
trated there,  or  are  unlucky.  Plants  growing 
on  boundaries  or  on  cross-ways  are  believed  to 
possess  magical  power  (see  Reiss,  '  Aberglaube,'  in 
Pauly-Wissowa,  i.  47).  In  Bombay  a  charm 
against  the  evil  eye  is  to  carry  seven  pebbles 
picked  up  at  the  meeting  of  three  ways  (Campbell, 
Spirit  Basis  of  Belief  and  Custom,  Bombay,  1885, 
p.  208). 

In  the  case  of  rites  of  riddance  and  aversion  the 
underlying  idea  is  that  the  evil  powers  lurking  at 
the  cross-ways  are  compelled  to  take  over  the  evil 
(disease,  ill-luck,  etc. )  which  is  of  demoniac  origin, 
or  is  impure  and  a  source  of  danger.  In  some  of 
these  cases  the  powers  of  the  cross-way  are  pro- 
pitiated by  an  offering.  Or  the  rite  takes  place 
there,  because  the  place  is  one  where  the  contagion 
of  evil  is  more  likely  to  be  got  rid  of  or  transferred 
to  another,  while  Oldenberg  suggests  (p.  287)  that 
the  cross-way  was  used  because,  after  the  rite,  the 
performer  would  go  one  way,  the  evil  or  unlucky 
influence  the  other.  A  simple  example  of  riddance 
of  fatigue  is  found  among  the  Guatemalan  Indians, 
who,  on  passing  the  usual  pile  of  stones  at  a 
cross- way,  gather  grass,  rub  their  legs  with  it,  spit 
on  it,  and  then  lay  it  with  a  stone  on  the  pile, 
thus  recovering  their  strength  (Frazer,  GB-  iii.  4). 
Rites  for  riddance  of  disease  at  cross-ways  are 
wide-spread.  To  rid  .themselves  of  any  disease  of 
demoniac  origin,  hill-natives  of  N.  India  plant  a 
stake  in  the  ground  at  a  cross- way  and  bury  some 
rice  below  it.  The  rice  (prob.  the  vehicle  of  trans- 
ference) is  disinterred  and  eaten  by  crows  {PR  i. 
290).  In  Bihar,  during  sickness,  certain  articles 
are  placed  in  a  saucer  and  set  at  a  cross-road 
(Grierson,  Bihar  Peasant  Life,  Calcutta,  1885, 
p.  407).  Similarly,  in  ancient  India,  such  rites 
were  commonly  performed  at  cross-ways,  as  specific 
instances  in  the  sacred  books  show.  A  patient 
possessed  by  demons  was  to  be  anointed  with  the 

the  cross-ways  (FLJ  ii.  101).  It  would  thus  be  used  as  an  act 
of  imitative  magic,  producing  the  effect  obtained  by  the  cross 
wav  itself. 


CROSS-ROADS  (Roman) 


335 


remains  of  a  sacrifice  of  ghl  and  fragrant  substances 
(probably  because  the  latter  are  obnoxious  to 
demons1)  and  placed  on  a  cross-road.  A  wicker 
basket  with  a  coal-pan  was  set  on  his  head,  and 
some  of  the  sacrifice  was  sprinkled  on  the  coals 
(Ath.-Veda  [SBE  xlii.  32,  519]).  In  another  charm 
for  riddance  from  hereditary  disease,  the  patient 
is  set  on  a  cross-road,  and  there  washed  and 
sprinkled.  The  charm  includes  the  words,  '  May 
the  four  quarters  of  heaven  be  auspicious  to  thee  ! ' 
(ib.  292).  In  other  cases  not  only  riddance  but  the 
transference  of  disease  to  another  person  is  effected. 
Thus  an  ancient  Hindu  charm  to  avert  evil  runs : 
'  If,  0  evil,  thou  dost  not  abandon  us,  then  do  we 
abandon  thee  at  the  fork  of  the  road.  May  evil  follow 
after  another  (man)!'  The  commentary  explains 
this  as  a  charm  to  remove  all  diseases,  and  the  rite 
includes  the  throwing  of  three  rice-puddings  at  the 
cross-road  (ib.  163,  473).  In  modern  India,  to  get 
rid  of  smallpox,  some  of  the  scales  from  the 
patient's  body  are  placed  in  a  pile  of  earth  decked 
with  flowers  at  a  cross-way.  The  disease  may 
then  be  transferred  to  some  passer,  the  original 
patient  recovering  (PR  i.  165).  Or,  at  an  outbreak 
of  smallpox,  a  pot  of  wine,  bangles,  money,  cakes, 
incense,  and  a  cloth  with  the  image  of  the  goddess 
of  smallpox,  are  offered  to  her,  and  then  left  out- 
side the  village  at  a  cross-road.  Any  one  touching 
these  or  meeting  the  priest  who  carries  them  out 
will  take  the  disease  and  die  at  once.  The  goddess 
receiving  the  offering  passes  on  to  the  next  village. 
Here  offering  and  vehicle  of  aversion  are  combined, 
and  the  articles  are  called  nikasi,  '  averters.'  Prob- 
ably the  poor,  in  eating '  E/tdrijs  Setiwov, — at  once  an 
offering  and  a  vehicle  of  aversion, — ran  the  risk  of 
transference  of  evil  to  themselves  rather  than 
starve.  In  Bohemia,  to  get  rid  of  fever,  an  empty 
pot  was  carried  by  the  patient  to  a  cross-road,  and 
thrown  down.  He  then  fled.  The  first  passer  who 
kicked  it  would  get  the  fever,  and  the  patient 
would  be  cured  (GB1  iii.  22).  In  Suffolk  a  cure 
for  ague  is  to  go  by  night  to  a  cross-way,  turn 
round  thrice  as  the  clock  strikes  twelve,  drive  a 
tenpenny  nail  up  to  the  head  in  the  ground,  and 
then  retire  backwards  before  the  clock  is  done 
striking.  The  next  person  passing  over  the  nail 
will  get  the  ague  (County  Folk-lore  of  Suffolk,  1895, 
p.  14).  For  other  European  instances,  see  Wuttke, 
op.  cit.  passim. 

Lustral  rites  of  riddance  at  cross-ways  are  also 
common.  In  India  one  who  had  committed  a 
crime  had,  after  other  rites,  to  go  to  a  cross-way 
and  repeat  the  formula,  Simhe  me  manyuh.  Then 
he  was  free  from  all  crime  (SBE  xiv.  330).  In  E. 
Africa,  when  a  child  is  able  to  speak,  it  is  taken  to  a 
cross-way,  washed  and  rubbed  with  oil,  and  given 
to  the  father,  who  may  then,  but  not  till  then,  cohabit 
with  his  wife,  else  the  child  will  die  (FLR  [1882] 
v.  168).  Riddance  of  the  contagion  of  death  is  also 
effected  at  cross-roads,  by  carrying  there  the  thing 
or  things  which  have  suffered  impurity.  In  India, 
at  a  death,  the  fire  became  impure,  and  with  the 
receptacle  was  carried  out  and  placed  on  a  cross- 
way  with  the  words,  '  I  send  far  away  the  flesh- 
devouring  Agni.'  The  bearer  then  walked  round 
it  three  times,  keeping  his  left  side  towards  it, 
beating  his  left  thigh  with  his  left  hand,  and  re- 
turning home  without  looking  back  (SBE  xxix. 
247).  In  the  orthodox  death-rites  of  modern  Brah- 
mans,  lamps  are  set  at  cross-ways  (Colebrooke, 
Life  and  Essays,  1873,  iii.  180).  All  over  E. 
Africa,  at  a  death,  the  water  used  in  washing  the 
body,  the  ashes  of  the  fire,  the  thatch  of  the  hut, 
and  the  remains  of  the  dead  man's  food,  are  buried 
at  a  cross-way  (malekano),  or  deposited  there  with 
broken  pots,  egg-shells,  etc.  (Macdonald,  Africana, 

1  Of.  D.  W.  Boussefc,  Hauptprobleme  der  Gnosis,  Gottingen, 
1907,  p.  301  f. 


i.  109 ;  FLR  v.  168).  Other  rites  of  riddance  or 
aversion  also  occur  at  cross-ways.  In  Nijegorod, 
the  Siberian  plague  is  kept  off  by  stakes  driven  into 
the  ground  at  a  cross- way  (Ralston,  Songs,  395). 
In  Bali,  at  the  periodical  expulsion  of  devils,  offer- 
ings of  food  are  placed  at  a  cross-road  for  the 
demons,  who  are  summoned  to  partake  of  them 
and  then  go  out  of  the  houses  to  this  feast  (GB2  iii. 
80).  In  Bohemia,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  witches, 
youths  meet  on  Walpnrgis  night  at  a  cross-way 
and  crack  whips  in  unison.  The  witches  are  thus 
driven  off  (ib.  iii.  92).  With  the  monthly  purifica- 
tions in  Greece  (§  3)  may  be  compared  a  custom  in 
Gujarat  of  sweeping  houses  and  laying  the  refuse 
at  a  cross-road  as  a  rite  of  riddance  of  evil  (Camp- 
bell, 329).  For  other  rites  at  birth  among  the 
Chains,  see  vol.  iii.  347",  350*. 

The  custom  of  burying  suicides  at  a  cross-way 
has  thus  in  all  probability  some  connexion  with 
rites  of  riddance  at  cross-roads.  The  danger  brought 
about  to  the  community  was  in  this  way  got  rid  of. 
Images  of  diseased  limbs  hung  at  cross-ways  were 
perhaps  less  votive  offerings  than  magical  means  of 
ridding  the  limb  of  the  disease  by  transferring  it  to 
the  spirits  of  the  cross- way  or  to  a  passer-by. 

6.  Cross-roads  and  the  four  quarters. — Not  im- 
probably the  sacredness  of  cross-roads  may  be 
connected  in  some  cases  with  that  of  the  four 
winds,  coming  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  heavens 
or  the  four  corners  of  the  earth,  which  were  wor- 
shipped as  gods  and  creators,  and  gave  a  sanctity 
to  the  cross  (q.v.)  among  pre-Christian  races,  espe- 
cially in  North  America  (see  art.  Air).  Hence 
ceremonies  for  scaring  evil  spirits  were  efficacious  at 
cross-ways,  because  they  looked  approximately  to 
the  four  sacred  quarters.  Thus,  in  the  Gujarat 
marriage-ritual  of  the  Bharvads,  balls  of  flour  are 
flung  to  the  four  quarters  as  a  charm  to  frighten 
off  evil  spirits  (BG  ix.  [1901]  1.  280).  In  Peru  a 
yearly  rite  of  riddance  in  connexion  with  the  four 
quarters  took  place  at  the  square  of  each  town,  out 
of  which  ran  four  roads  leading  to  the  four  cardinal 
points.  Four  Incas  of  the  blood  royal,  with  lance 
and  girded  mantle,  stood  in  the  great  square,  till 
another  ran  down  from  the  temple  of  the  Sun, 
carrying  a  message  that  the  Sun  bade  them  as  his 
messengers  drive  all  evils  from  the  city.  They 
separated  and  ran  down  the  four  roads  to  the  four 
quarters  of  the  world.  Relays  of  runners  received 
the  lances  from  them,  and  finally  set  them  up  at  a 
boundary,  which  the  evils  might  not  pass  (Garc.  de 
la  Vega,  Royal  Comment.,  1869-71,  ii.  228;  Rites 
and  Laws  of  the  Yncas,  Hakluyt  Soc,  1873,  p.  20  ft'. ; 
cf.  vol.  iii.  p.  308b).  The  Yorubas  have  a  cult  of 
the  four  winds,  and  a  figure  with  four  heads  called 
Olori  merin  is  usually  found  on  a  mound  near  the 
centre  of  the  town,  so  that  each  head  faces  one  of 
the  four  points.  Thus  he  protects  the  town,  and 
no  pestilence  brought  by  the  four  winds  or  hostile 
force  arriving  by  the  four  roads  can  attack  it. 
Formerly  these  roads  passed  out  of  the  city  by  the 
four  chief  gates  on  each  side  (Dennett,  Nigerian 
Studies,  1910,  pp.  70,  85).  This  connexion  of  cross- 
ways  with  the  four  quarters  does  not  universally 
hold  good,  more  especially  in  the  case  of  the  meet- 
ing of  three  roads,  and  only  forms  one  of  many 
reasons  for  the  superstitious  connexion  with  cross- 
roads. 

Literature. — This  is  mentioned  throughout  the  article. 
There  ia  no  special  work  on  the  subject. 

J.  A.  MacCuxloch. 
CROSS-ROADS  (Roman). — It  was  a  custom 
of  the  Roman  peasant,  in  order  to  ensure  the  pro- 
sperity of  his  crops,  to  make  a  procession  round 
the  marches  of  his  land,  praying  the  while  to  Mars 
for  protection  against  visible  and  invisible  disease, 
ravage,  and  storm  (Cato,  de  Agricult.  141).  In 
ancient  times  these  various  evils  were  regarded  as 


336 


CROWN 


demons  who  gloated  over  suffering,  and  this  ex- 
plains why  Fever  (Febris)  was  worshipped  in  Rome 
as  a  goddess  (G.  Wissowa,  Bel.  u.  Kult.  der  Homer, 
Munich,  1902,  p.  197).  But,  if  such  noxious  spirits 
were  prevented  by  the  invocation  of  Mars  from 
intruding  upon  the  tilled  land,  they  would  tend 
to  haunt  the  boundaries ;  and,  as  the  latter  were 
often  formed  by  roads,  it  came  to  be  believed  that 
the  roads  were  traversed  by  demons  as  well  as 
by  human  beings.  Now,  the  place  where  several 
roads  converged — whether  by  the  bifurcation  of  one 
thoroughfare  (ambivium,  bivium),  or  by  the  inter- 
section of  two  (quadrivium  or  trivium,  according 
as  the  way  by  which  the  traveller  approaches  is 
counted  or  not ;  see  H.  Usener,  '  Dreiheit,'  in  Rhein. 
Mus.  lviii.  [1903]  339) — was  naturally  a  focus  of 
human  intercourse ;  as  every  one  must  pass  the 
trivium,  trivialis  came  to  mean  '  common,'  '  known 
to  all. '  For  corresponding  reasons,  cross-roads  were 
regarded  as  the  special  resorts  of  demons.  The 
Romans  believed  that  things  connected  with  the 
cross- ways  bad  magical  powers,  and  this  supersti- 
tion doubtless  rests  upon  the  idea  that  demons 
haunted  the  spot,  and  infected  the  surroundings 
with  their  supernatural  influence.  Thus,  for  in- 
stance, frogs  boiled  at  the  cross-way  were  a  cure 
for  fever  (Pliny,  HN  xxxii.  113) ;  a  person  who  by 
night  sets  his  foot  upon  filth  at  the  cross-way  is 
thereby  bewitched  (Petronius,  134) ;  while  the  per- 
plexity and  anxiety  which  fall  upon  the  traveller 
in  a  strange  district  as  he  comes  to  the  cross-roads, 
and  hesitates  as  to  the  way  he  should  take  (Ovid, 
Fasti,  v.  3 ;  Minucius  Felix,  Octavius,  xvi.  3),  would 
be  ascribed  to  the  haunting  demons,  as  would  also 
the  actual  choice  of  the  wrong  way  (Roscher,  vol.  i. 
p.  1890).  Again,  the  cross-way  was  occasionally 
the  site  of  the  special  object  revered  by  the  fetish- 
worshipper  (Tibullus,  I.  i.  11  f.  :  '  habet  .  .  .  vetus 
in  trivio  florida  serta  lapis').  The  fetish  was 
decorated  with  wreaths ;  and  by  such  homage,  as 
also  by  prayers  and  votive  offerings,  it  was  hoped 
that  the  demonic  powers  would  be  induced  to  re- 
frain from  injuring  their  devotees,  and  to  act  as 
the  dispensers  of  grace  and  sure  guidance. 

Anthropomorphic  deities  of  this  character  had 
likewise  a  place  in  the  Roman  religion,  but  the 
cult  was  not  indigenous.  Some  of  the  deities  were 
simply  taken  over  from  foreign  religions ;  others, 
while  of  native  origin,  became  the  tutelary  spirits 
of  cross-roads  only  at  a  later  period.  To  the  former 
group  belongs  the  goddess  Trivia,  who,  from  the  time 
of  Ennius  {Seen.  121  [Vahlen]),  is  often  mentioned  in 
Latin  poetry,  and  sometimes,  though  more  rarely, 
in  inscriptions  {CIL  x.  3795  [Capua]:  'Dianae 
Tifatinae  Triviae  sacrum').  She  was  in  reality 
the  Hecate  Trioditis  of  Greek  mythology,  and, 
like  the  trivium,  was  of  triple  form  (Usener,  loc.  cit. 
pp.  167  f.,  338  f.).  Hecate  was  a  gloomy  and  mali- 
cious goddess,  and,  in  order  to  propitiate  her, 
recourse  was  had  Grcsco  ritu  to  every  possible  ex- 
pedient, such  as  loud  nocturnal  invocations  (Virgil, 
JEn.  iv.  609 :  '  nocturnisque  Hecate  triviis  ululata') 
and  offerings  of  food  at  the  cross-roads.  The  latter 
fact  explains  why  the  trivium  was  a  resort  of  dogs 
(Ovid,  Fasti,  v.  140)  and  famished  people  (Tibullus, 
I.  v.  56,  with  the  comments  of  Dissen).  In  the 
Imperial  period  we  find  quite  a  system  of  goddesses 
of  the  cross-way,  all  of  non-Roman  origin,  and  for 
the  most  part  linked  together  in  groups  as  Bivia^, 
Trivice,  or  Quadriviae,  especially  in  Upper  Ger- 
many. They  were  apparently  indigenous  to  that 
region,  and  their  cult  forced  its  way  thence  into 
Lower  Germany  and  the  countries  about  the 
Danube  (M.  Ihm,  in  Roscher,  iv.  Iff.).  In  some 
districts  we  find  also  male  deities  of  the  cross-way 
(CIL  xii.  5621  [Gaul] :  '  (de)is  dea(bus)  Bivis  Trivis 
Quadrivis ' ;  vii.  163  [Britain] :  '  Deo  Trivii  Bellicus 
donavit  aram ').  [ 


Our  knowledge  of  these  deities  is  derived  from 
votive  offerings,  principally  small  altars  with  in- 
scriptions, which  throw  no  light,  however,  upon 
the  character  of  the  associated  cult.  In  many 
cases  the  dedication  was  made  in  fulfilment  of  a 
vow,  and  the  donors  were  mostly  soldiers.  The 
vow  would,  no  doubt,  be  made  for  the  purpose  of 
winning  the  protection  of  the  deity  during  a  jour- 
ney or  throughout  a  campaign,  and  so  ensuring  a 
safe  return  therefrom ;  for  by  this  time  such  deities 
were  regarded,  not  merely  as  local  guardians  of  par- 
ticular cross-ways,  but  as  divine  patrons  of  all  roads. 

Similar  ideas  were  current  regarding  the  genuinely 
Roman  deities  to  whom  was  latterly  assigned  the 
tutelage  of  the  cross-roads.  These  were  known  as 
the  '  Lares  compitales,'  and  were  worshipped  mainly 
at  the  place  '  ubi  viae  competunt '  (Varro,  de  Ling. 
Lat.  vi.  25  ;  G.  Wissowa,  in  Pauly- Wissowa,  iv. 
792  ff.),  i.e.  the  cross- way.  But  the  word  compitum 
must  have  had  a  further  meaning,  for  Cicero  (de 
Lege  Agr.  i.  7)  explicitly  distinguishes  between  it 
and  trivium ;  as  is  rightly  observed  by  Wissowa 
{Bel.  u.  Kult.  d.  Bomer,  p.  148  f . ),  it  also  signified 
the  point  at  which  the  boundaries  of  the  fields 
converged.  The  worship  offered  to  the  Lares  at 
the  compita  was  an  expression  of  the  belief  that 
they  were  the  guardians  of  the  soil  (Tibullus,  I.  i. 
19  f.  :  'agri  custodes').  Originally,  therefore,  the 
Lares  were  invoked  as  patrons  of  field-boundaries, 
while  their  association  with  cross-roads  was  a  later 
development,  due  to  the  circumstance  that  bound- 
ary and  path  frequently  coincided.  In  this  acquired 
character  they  are  known  to  us  from  such  dedica- 
tions as  are  found  in  CIL  xi.  3079  (Falerii) :  'Lari- 
bus  compitalibus  vialibus  semitalibus,'  and  xiii. 
6731  (Mainz) :  '  Laribus  compitalibus  sive  quadri- 
vialibus  sacrum.'  The  next  stage  was  that  the 
Lares  became  the  gods  of  roads  in  general,  as  like- 
wise of  travellers,  who  therefore  made  to  them  the 
same  kind  of  dedications  as  were  offered  Deabus 
Quadriviis.  The  dedicated  objects  were  placed  in 
shrines,  and,  as  these  shrines  of  the  Lares  were 
set  up  at  the  cross-roads,  they  too  bore  the  name 
Compita  (Persius,  iv.  28). 

We  must  not  confound  such  erections  at  the 
cross-way  with  fabrics  reared  over  the  cross- way. 
The  rectangular  towers  which  we  find  surmounting 
two  passages  intersecting  at  right  angles  suggest 
the  thought  that  they  were  originally  built  over 
cross- ways.  Of  such  towers,  nine  in  all  are  known 
(Baumeister,  Denkmdler  d.  Mass.  Altertums,  iii. 
[Munich,  1889]  1867).  The  most  famous  of  them  is 
the  Janus  Quadrif  rons  in  the  Forum  Boarium,  dating 
from  the  4th  cent.  A.D.  (H.  Jordan,  Topographie 
der  Stadt  Bom  im  Altertum,  I.  ii.  [Berlin,  1885]  471) ; 
but  its  original  purpose  was  that  of  a  monument  of 
honour,  and  it  is  impossible  to  say  whether  the 
ancient  Roman  ideas  regarding  cross-roads  were 
present  to  the  minds  of  its  builders.  In  any  case, 
these  ideas  were  by  no  means  extinct  at  that  time, 
for,  even  as  late  as  the  Middle  Ages,  it  was  still 
frequently  necessary  for  the  preacher  to  castigate 
the  practice  of  lighting  candles  and  offering  sacri- 
fices at  the  cross-roads  (see,  e.g.,  C.  P.  Caspari, 
Kirchenhist.  Aneedota,  Christiania,  1883,  i.  172, 
175,  199)  —  a  practice  which  is  undoubtedly  a 
vestige  of  heathen,  in  some  cases  perhaps  of 
Roman,  ritual.  Even  at  the  present  day,  in  Italy, 
the  cross-way  is  the  favourite  site  for  the  chapels 
of  patron  saints  (Th.  Trede,  Das  Heidenthum  in  der 
rbmischen  Kirche,  Gotha,  1891,  iv.  205). 
Literature. — This  has  been  given  throughout  the  article. 

R.  WfJNSCH. 

CROWN. — As  a  preliminary  to  this  article  it 
may  be  advisable  to  cite  Selden's  words  distinguish- 
ing between  '  diadem  '  and  '  crown '  : 

'  However  those  names  have  been  from  antient  times  con- 
founded, yet  the  diadem  strictly  was  a  very  different  thing  from 


CROWN 


337 


what  a  crown  now  is  or  was  ;  and  it  was  no  other  than  only  a 
fillet  of  silk,  linen,  or  some  such  thing:.  Nor  appears  it  that 
any  other  kind  of  crown  was  used  as  a  royal  ensign,  except  only 
in  some  kingdoms  of  Asia,  but  this  kind  of  fillet,  until  the 
beginning  of  Christianity  in  the  Roman  Empire '  (Titles  of 
Honors,  1672,  0.  8,  {  2). 

The  Gr.  SiaSruxa,  Lat.  diadema,  was  a  fillet  of  linen 
or  silk,  sometimes  adorned  with  precious  stones,  or 
occasionally  a  flexible  band  of  gold.  This  was  the 
true  emblem  of  royalty,  the  /SacriXetas  yvCipio^a 
(Lucian,  Pise.  35),  or  insigne  regium  (Tac.  Ann. 
xv.  29).  On  the  other  hand,  the  Gr.  <n-^0axos,  Lat. 
corona,  a  wreath  or  garland  of  real  or  artificial 
(usually  gold)  leaves,  was  not  a  distinctive  royal 
emblem,  and  was  applied  to  the  victor's,  the 
bridal,  the  festal  '  crown '  (see  also  Trench, 
Synonyms  of  the  NT,  s.v.  critpavos,  StASriixa).  The 
same  distinction  occurs  in  other  languages,  e.g. 
German  Krone,  the  royal  crown,  Kranz,  a  garland. 
The  English  word  '  crown'  comprehends  all  kinds 
of  coronal  head-dresses,  royal  and  other. 

1.  Coronal  head-dresses. — A  distinctive  head- 
dress of  persons  of  high  degree,  but  especially  of 
kings  and  princes,  originated  from  the  custom  of 
wearing  various  kinds  of  head-dresses,  coronal, 
etc.,  on  festal  or  other  occasions,  or  by  particular 
classes  of  people — men  as  contrasted  with  women, 
or,  vice  versa,  rich  as  contrasted  with  poor,  chiefs, 
medicine-men,  members  of  a  mystery  society,  and 
the  like — or  at  festival  dances  such  as  are  found 
among  savages  and  European  peasants  (cf.  Abbott, 
Macedonian  Folklore,  Camb.  1903,  p.  31),  or,  again, 
from  royal  personages  wearing  a  more  ornate  and 
valuable  form  of  the  customary  head-dress.  The 
crown,  as  a  distinctive  head-dress,  may  thus  be 
traced  back  to  very  early  times.  Following  upon 
elaborate  methods  of  dressing  the  hair,  such  as  are 
found  among  Polynesian  and  African  tribes,  the 
next  step  is  to  decorate  the  hair  with  bones,  teeth, 
shells,  feathers,  leaves,  flowers  (see  §  2),  or  other 
ornaments.  Or  a  band  or  fillet  of  fibre,  skin, 
leather,  ivory,  or  metal  serves  to  prevent  the  hair 
from  falling  over  the  face.  This  is  found  among 
the  lowest  tribes  (Andamanese,  Australians,  Bush- 
men, Fuegians,  etc.),  but,  from  being  merely  use- 
ful, it  soon  becomes  also  ornamental  or  has  orna- 
ments of  various  kinds  affixed  to  it — tufts  of 
feathers,  fur,  or  wood  shavings,  teeth,  shells,  etc. ; 
or  it  may  be  worn  only  on  special  occasions,  like 
the  coils  of  wire  bound  round  the  forehead  and 
nape  of  the  neck  by  Mukamba  youths  at  dances 
(JAI  xxxiv.  [1904]  139).  The  fillet,  thus  widely 
worn,  would  have  a  distinctive  character,  or  would 
be  more  decorative  or  formed  of  more  precious 
material,  when  worn  by  persons  of  higher  rank ; 
and  it  is  a  direct  forerunner  of  the  royal  fillet  or 
diadem  worn  by  kings  as  an  emblem  of  sovereignty, 
either  with  or  without  some  other  distinctive  head- 
dress. The  gold  lunulce  with  the  characteristic 
chevron  decoration  of  the  Bronze  Age,  found  in 
the  Celtic  area,  may  be  classed  with  ornaments  of 
this  kind,  and  were  perhaps  worn  by  chiefs 
(Dechelette,  Man.  d'arch.  pri-hist.  celt.,  Paris, 
1910,  p.  353 ;  Romilly  Allen,  Celtic  Art,  Lond.  1904, 
p.  39  f . ).  More  elaborate  crowns  are  derived  from 
the  simple  fillet  or  diadem  by  the  addition  of  de- 
corations around  its  circumference,  as,  e.g.,  by 
fixing  upright  feathers  in  it  (Fuegians,  American 
Indians).  Other  elaborate  head-dresses,  combining 
the  fillet  and  crown,  or  evolved  from  the  former, 
are  often  worn  by  special  classes  or  at  special 
times. 

Thus  a  Tibetan  female  head-dress  (chief's  wife)  consists  of  a 
crown  of  large  amber  disks,  in  each  of  which  is  a  coral  bead, 
with  similar  ornaments  on  satin  bands,  holding  the  hair  plaits 
together  (Rockhill,  Land  of  the  Lamas,  1891,  p.  184).  Among 
the  Kabyles  rich  women  wear  a  coronal  head-dress  of  highly 
ornamental  open  metal  work,  with  numerous  pendent  orna- 
ments and  chains ;  and  a  female  head-dress  in  Java  consists 
of  a  richly  adorned  head-band  with  star-like  ornaments  stuck 
round  the  upper  edge  (Hutchinson,  Living  Races  of  Mankind, 
vol..  IV. — 22 


n.d.  i.  78,  ii.  393-4,  399).  A  circle  of  jewelled  gold,  the  upper 
edge  heightened  to  four  or  more  points,  surrounding  a  Jewelled 
cap,  was  formerly  worn  by  Arab  ladies  of  high  rank  (Lane,  Arab. 
Society,  1883,  p.  218).  A  Samoan  head-dress  worn  by  chiefs,  and 
by  girls  at  certain  dances,  consists  of  a  triple  band  of  teeth  or 
shells  on  the  forehead  surmounted  by  an  imposing  head-dress 
(ib.  i.  12 ;  Brown,  Melanesians  and  Polynesians,  1910,  p.  68). 
Among  the  natives  of  Torres  Straits  are  found  head-dresses  of 
feathers,  of  fish  teeth,  or  dog's  teeth  coronets,  or  the  dri,  a  fan- 
shaped  arrangement  of  white  feathers  of  the  egret  (JAI  xix. 
[1890]  369).  Among  the  tribes  of  Brazil  the  men  at  feasts  wear 
a  coronet  of  bright  red  and  yellow  toucan's  feathers,  disposed 
in  regular  rows  and  attached  to  a  circlet  of  plaited  Btraw. 
These  feathers,  being  specially  prepared,  are  very  rare,  and  the 
coronets  are  never  parted  with  (Wallace,  Amazon,  1895,  pp. 
194,  202).  Chiefs  in  Haiti  wore  a  gold  circlet  similarly  decorated 
(Stoll,  Geschlechtsleben  in  der  Volkcrpsych.,  Leipzig,  1908,  p.  457; 
and,  for  a  similar  head-dress  worn  by  chiefs  among  the  Lacan- 
dones,  NR  i.  702). 

As  an  emblem  of  royalty  such  a  crown  was  worn  by  the  Incas 
of  Peru.  It  consisted  of  a  turban  with  a  tasselled  fringe,  in 
which  were  set  upright  two  feathers  of  a  very  rare  bird,  the 

?eculiar  emblems  of  the  Inca,  which  no  one  else  might  wear, 
his  head-dress  was  buried  with  him,  and  two  new  feathers  had 
to  be  procured  for  each  coronation.  The  heir -apparent  wore  a 
similar  fillet  or  fringe  of  a  yellow  colour  as  his  insignia  (Prescott, 
Peru,  1890,  p.  11  f. ;  Stoll,  457).  Among  the  Mayas  the  king's 
crown  was  a  golden  diadem  wider  in  front,  surmounted  by  a 

§lume  of  feathers  which  no  one  else  might  wear  under  pain  of 
eath  (NR  ii.  635).  Mexican  kings  were  crowned  by  the  kings 
of  Tezcuco  with  a  diadem  higher  in  front  and  running  up  there 
to  a  point,  and  adorned  with  beautiful  feathers.  The  diadem 
was  made  of  thin  gold  plates  or  woven  of  gold  thread,  and  it 
hung  down  behind  over  the  neck.  Noble  Aztec  warriors  wore 
head-dresses  of  feathers  set  in  gold  fillets  (ib.  ii.  148,  375-6,  405, 
441}.  All  such  crowns  have  followed  the  line  of  development 
which  has  produced  the  European  crown  from  the  diadem  (§  8). 
For  savage  head-dresses,  see  Spencer-Gillenb,  687 ;  E.  Grosse, 
Anfdnge  der  Eunst,  Freiburg,  1894,  ch.  6  ;  Stoll,  119  ;  Johnston, 
Uganda  Protectorate,  1902,  pp.  729,  787,  843,  868,  880 ;  Deniker, 
Races  of  Man,  1900,  pp.  178,  371,  502,  622;  Mary  Kingsley, 
Travels  in  W.  Africa,  1897,  p.  224 ;  and  for  the  head-dresses 
peculiar  to  the  higher  classes  in  Bab.,  Assyria,  and  Persia,  see 
Bawlinson,  Anc.  Monarchies,  1862,  i.  133,  ii.  199,  iv.  191,  333. 

The  huge  or  elaborate  masks  and  head-dresses  worn  at  the 
performance  of  totemic  or  tribal  ceremonies  or  in  mystery- 
dances  by  Australians,  Melanesians,  Africans,  etc.,  sometimes 
assuming  a  form  more  or  less  coronal,  need  only  be  referred  to 
here  as  decorations  reserved  for  certain  persons,  and  worn  only 
on  specific  occasions  and  at  no  other  time.  They  are  insignia 
of  office,  or  form  part  of  the  necessary  costume,  sometimes  sym- 
bolic or  representative  (see  Spencer-Gillen1-  b  passim  ;  Kingsley, 
483  ;  Deniker,  179  ;  Brown,  60  ft. ;  JAI  xix.  [1889-90]  364). 

2.  Chaplets. — From  the  custom  of  decorating 
the  hair  with  flowers  on  festal  occasions  as  a  method 
of  betokening  joy,  arose  the  use  of  chaplets  or 
wreaths  (o-ricpavoi,  coronce),  though  these  may  be 
also  connected  with  the  simple  fillet  or  hair-band 
into  which  flowers  are  sometimes  stuck.  Among 
savages,  it  is  with  the  Polynesians  and  occasionally 
the  Melanesians  that  the  general  wearing  of  flowers 
or  regular  chaplets  is  found  most  extensively. 
Among  the  former,  women  at  dances  wore  wreaths 
interwoven  with  their  hair,  and  garlands  and 
wreaths  on  forehead  and  breast.  This  custom  has 
been  largely  given  up  since  the  introduction  of 
Christianity  (Ellis,  Polynes.  Researches,  1831,  i. 
134,  216  ;  cf.  also  Brown,  317  ;  Hutchinson,  i.  6,  9, 
11,  17,  18 ;  and,  for  a  similar  practice  of  wearing 
wreaths  of  grass  and  leaves  among  the  Sakais,  ib. 
i.  90).  The  custom  was  sporadic  in  America  ;  thus 
the  Nahuas  wore  garlands  at  banquets  and  dances 
(NB  ii.  284,  290).  Among  peoples  of  antiquity 
the  wearing  of  wreaths  on  festive  occasions  was 
wide-spread.  From  an  early  time  in  Egypt  chaplets 
(meh)  of  lotus,  myrtle,  etc. ,  were  worn  by  the  guests 
at  banquets  (Wilkinson,  ii.  38,  330),  and  the  custom 
was  also  in  use  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans. 
Perhaps  under  the  influence  of  Greek  usage  it 
spread  to  the  Hebrews,  and  is  often  referred  to 
as  a  common  practice  at  times  of  rejoicing,  especi- 
ally in  the  Apocryphal  books  (Wis  28  '  Let  us  crown 
ourselves  with  rosebuds ' ;  Ezk  23^  Ca  311,  Jth  1513, 
Sir  322,  2  Mac  67,  3  Mac  48  716  ;  cf.  Acts  of  Thomas, 
crowns  of  myrtle  and  other  flowers  at  a  banquet, 
in  W.  Wright,  Apoc.  Acts,  Lond.  1871,  ii.  149). 

Wreaths  and  crowns  were  also  worn  ritually  at 
festivals  of  the  gods  and  at  sacrifices  (see  next  art.  ; 
cf.  Ac  1413,  2  Mac  67).  Tertullian  writes  that, 
besides  the  wreaths  offered  to  the  gods  or  their 


338 


CROWN 


images,  '  the  very  doors,  victims,  altars,  servants, 
and  priests  are  crowned '  (de  Cor.  10).  The  sacri- 
ficer  wore  them  (cf.  the  wreaths  worn  by  Persians 
over  their  tiaras  at  sacrifices  [Herod,  i.  132]),  and 
they  were  placed  on  the  heads  of  the  victims 
(Teutons  [de  la  Saussaye,  Bel.  of  the  Teutons, 
Boston,  1902,  pp.  368,  377],  Hindus  [Monier- 
Williams,  Bel.  Thought  and  Life,  1883,  p.  247], 
Mexicans  \_NB  iii.  359] ;  for  other  instances,  see 
Tert.  de  Cor.,  Pausan.  ed.  Frazer,  v.  7.  7,  vii.  20.  1, 
viii.  48.  2,  x.  7.  8,  and  notes ;  Granger,  Worship  of 
the  Romans,  1895,  pp.  287,  306).  Animals  were 
adorned  with  them  on  festal  occasions  (Celts 
[Arrian,  Cyneg.  34.  1],  Persians  [the  crown  royal 
on  the  horse's  head,  Est  68]).  Garlands  and  crowns 
are  also  worn  at  sacred  dances  (Mexico  [NB  iii. 
392],  Melanesia  [Haddon,  Head-Hunters,  1901,  pp. 
113,  187] ;  see  also  above).  They  were  placed  on 
city  gates  (Jos.  BJ IV.  iv.  4),  on  temples  (crowns  of 
gold  on  the  Jewish  temple,  1  Mac  467),  or  were 
worn  by  conquering  armies  ( Jth  37  15]3),  or  given  as 
much  coveted  prizes  at  the  games.  In  the  last 
instance,  from  the  myths  associated  with  the 
origin  of  the  custom  and  from  the  ritual  used  in 
the  making  of  the  wreaths,  their  religious  aspect 
is  evident.  Crowns  were  also  worn  by  the  pilgrims 
to  the  temple  of  the  Syrian  goddess  at  Hierapolis 
(Lucian,  de  Dea  Syria).  In  the  Taurobolium  the 
candidate  was  crowned  with  gold  and  wreathed 
with  fillets  before  undergoing  the  baptism  of  blood 
(Frazer,  Adonis",  1907,  p.  229) ;  and  in  the  Mithraic 
initiations  one  of  the  rites  was  the  presenting  of  a 
crown  on  the  point  of  a  sword  to  the  candidate, 
who  put  it  on  his  head  and  then  transferred  it  to 
his  shoulder  with  the  words,  '  Mithras  is  my  crown ' 
(Tert.  de  Cor.  15,  de  Prmsc.  Hcer.  40).  Wreaths 
were  also  worn  by  those  initiated  into  the  mysteries 
of  Isis  (Apul.  Metam.  xi.  24).  In  the  baptismal 
ceremonies  of  the  Mandaeans  a  crown  was  used 
(W.  Brandt,  Die  manddische  Beligion,  Leipzig, 
1889,  pp.  108,  113). 

Wreaths  are  also  worn  at  the  end  of  harvest  in 
European  folk-custom.  They  are  made  of  the  last 
ears  of  corn,  sometimes  with  the  addition  of  flowers 
and  tinsel,  and  are  worn  often  by  the  person  who 
has  cut  them.  He  or  she  represents  the  corn- 
divinity,  and  is  drenched  with  water  as  a  fertility 
charm.  In  this  case  the  wreath  is  the  direct  link 
between  the  corn  and  the  human  representative  of 
the  divinity  of  the  corn  (Frazer,  Adonis2,  195  f. ; 
Ralston,  Songs  of  the  Buss.  People,  1872,  p.  250). 
At  the  Jewish  feast  of  Tabernacles — a  festival  of 
ingathering  of  fruits — it  was  customary  for  the 
Jews  to  sit  in  booths  with  wreaths  on  their  heads 
(Jub.  1430).  Booths  and  wreaths  suggest  a  former 
cult  of  vegetation.  Hence  also  divinities  associ- 
ated with  fertility  or  with  the  crops  wore  wreaths 
of  corn  :  e.g.  Isis,  who  was  said  to  have  discovered 
corn  (Tert.  de  Cor.  7 ;  Aug.  de  Civ.  Dei,  viii.  27  ;  cf. 
also  the  wreaths  of  corn  worn  by  the  children  sacri- 
ficed to  Artemis  [Pausan.  vii.  20.  1]).  In  European 
May -day  customs,  besides  the  hoops  covered  with 
garlands  and  carried  in  procession,  girls  wear 
chaplets,  as  do  also  the  May  or  Whitsuntide 
queen,  and  the  May  king  or  Jack-in-the-Green, 
besides  being  dressed  in  or  adorned  with  leaves. 
These  chaplets  are  an  important  part  of  the  sym- 
bolic dress  of  a  former  anthropomorphic  representa- 
tive of  the  vegetation  spirit  {FL  xi.  [1900]  210; 
Wilde,  Anc.  Cures, 'Charms,  etc.,  1890,  p.  101  f.  ; 
Frazer,  GB-  i.  196  ff.,  213  ff.,  Early  Hist,  of  the 
Kingship,  1905,  p.  166  f.). 

3.  Bridal  chaplets  and  crowns. — These  are 
already  found  in  antiquity  worn  by  the  bride  or 
bridegroom,  or  by  both  (Tert.  de  Cor.  13).  They 
marked  an  occasion  of  joy,  but  may  in  some  cases 
have  had  a  magical  purpose,  in  warding  off  evils 
from  the  head.     Being  used  by  pagans,  they  were 


at  first  rejected  by  the  Church,  as  it  rejected 
generally  all  wearing  of  flowers  on  the  head. 
But  the  custom  was  already  found  among  the  Jews, 
the  bridegroom  wearing  a  garland  or  crown  (Is  6110, 
Ca  311),  the  bride  a  '  beautiful  crown '  (Ezk  1612). 
The  custom  was  in  abeyance  from  the  time  of 
Vespasian,  but  was  resumed  later.  Among  Chris- 
tians also  it  became  usual,  the  bridegroom  wearing 
a  garland  of  myrtle,  the  bride  of  verbena  (Sid. 
Apoll.  Carm.  $,  '  ad  Anthem.') ;  and  it  was  regarded 
as  improper  for  the  unchaste  to  wear  them  (Chrysos. 
Horn.  9  in  1  Tim. ).  The  wearing  of  bridal  garlands 
and  crowns  is  still  customary  over  a  great  part  of 
Europe — Switzerland,  Germany,  Rumania,  and  in 
the  north. 

In  the  Greek  Church  ritual  of  marriage  the  bridegroom  crowns 
the  bride  in  Nomine,  and  the  bride  the  bridegroom,  while  the 
priest  blesses  them  and  says,  '  O  Lord,  crown  them  with  glory 
and  honour.'  The  service  is  hence  called  atcoKovdia  rov 
o-Te^acui^aTos.  In  Macedonia  the  bridal  wreaths  are  made  of 
real  or  artificial  flowers,  or  are  silver  garlands  belonging  to  the 
church  (to.  o-Te'^ava).  They  are  exchanged  in  church  at  the 
crowning  ceremony  (rre^dviatxa — applied  to  the  whole  wedding 
rite  (Abbott,  op.  cit.  pp.  168,  173).  Ralston  (op.  tit.  p.  279) 
describes  a  local  ceremony  in  Russia.  In  church,  over  the 
heads  of  the  bridal  pair  the  groomsmen  hold  crowns,  and  must 
press  them  on  the  heads,  but  not  hurriedly,  else  ill-luck  and 
misfortune  would  follow.  The  rite  is  called  vyenehanie, 
'  crowning.'  In  Servia,  when  a  youth  dies,  a  girl  representing  a 
bride  comes  to  the  grave  carrying  two  crowns.  One  is  thrown 
to  the  corpse,  the  other  she  keeps  for  some  time.  This  is  part 
of  the  old  ritual  of  the  '  death- wedding '  (Ralston,  310 ;  see  O. 
Schrader,  Totenhochzeit,  Jena,  1904,  and  Aryan  Religion,  vol. 
ii.  p.  22  f.).  In  Germany  and  Switzerland  the  bridal  wreath  of 
myrtle  is  made  by  the  bridesmaids,  but  occasionally  elsewhere 
more  elaborate  crowns  are  worn,  formed,  e.g.,  of  a  series  of 
diminishing  circlets,  one  above  the  other,  to  which  are  fixed 
flowers,  beads,  figures  in  metal,  some  of  which  are  probably 
intended  as  amulets.  They  are  not  worn  by  girls  known  to  be 
already  enceinte  (see  Stoll,  455  f.,  459;  Kossmann- Weiss,  Mann 
und  Weib,  St'lttgart,  1890,  ii.  184,  188).  Among  the  Letts  the 
bride  wears  a  crown  of  gold  paper  and  silk,  on  a  framework  of 
wire  and  pasteboard.  She  receives  it  from  an  honourable 
matron,  who  keeps  it  for  the  use  of  the  brides  of  the  district 
(to.  ii  190).  The  elaborate  Norwegian  bridal  crown  is  handed 
down  as  an  heirloom  in  well-to-do  families,  but  in  each  village 
it,  as  well  as  a  set  of  bridal  ornaments,  is  kept  for  the  poor 
bride's  temporary  use  (Chambers,  Book  of  Days,  1863,  L  720-721 ; 
Hutchinson,  ii.  427). 

Among  the  Hindus,  from  Vedic  times,  the  custom  of  wearing 
garlands  or  crowns  of  precious  metal  or  tinsel  at  marriage  has 
been  common,  and  they  are  believed  to  have  a  protective 
efficacy  against  evil  spirits  which  might  enter  by  the  head. 
They  are  worn  both  by  Hindus  and  Muhammadans  (Crooke,  PR 
i.  239 ;  Kossmann- Weiss,  ii.  164,  167 ;  ERE  iii.  443b).  Among 
the  Muhammadans  of  Egypt  the  bride  wears  a  pasteboard  cap 
or  crown  under  the  veil  which  covers  the  head  and  face,  and  to 
which  ornaments  of  value  are  attached  externally  (Lane,  Mod. 
Egyptians,  1846,  i.  220,  Arab.  Soc.  234).  Among  the  Nahuas, 
bride  and  bridegroom  were  crowned  with  garlands  (NR  ii.  -257). 
For  Chinese  bridal  crowns,  see  Hutchinson,  i.  140 ;  and  for 
Polynesian  and  Fijian  bridal  wreaths,  ib.  i.  19,  and  Letourneau, 
Evol.  ofMarr.,  1907,  p.  124. 

4.  Funeral  chaplets  and  crowns. — Among  the 
Greeks  and  Romans  the  dead  were  crowned  with 
chaplets,  or  these  were  placed  as  offerings  on 
tombs  (Lucian,  de  Luetu,  11;  Tert.  de  Cor.  10;  see 
next  art.  §  2).  In  Egypt  it  was  customary  to  place 
chaplets  of  flowers  or  leaves  on  the  head  of  the 
mummy  at  the  funeral  ceremony,  and  these  some- 
times remained  on  the  head  in  the  coffin.  They 
were  called  '  the  crown  of  the  true  voice,'  and 
assured  to  the  deceased,  through  the  power  of 
Thoth,  the  right  intonation,  without  which  the 
magic  formulae  were  useless,  or  perhaps  signified 
that  he  would  be  crowned  triumphant  and  justified 
in  the  other  world.  Special  gardens  were  set 
apart  for  the  flowers  used  in  making  these  wreaths. 
The  statue  which  represented  the  mummy  was  also 
crowned  with  flowers,  and  the  funeral  ritual  con- 
cluded with  a  prayer  in  which  it  was  said  of  the 
deceased,  'Thou  wearest  the  crown  among  the 
gods.'  Part  of  the  ritual  also  consisted  of  brandish- 
ing the  oirhikau  over  the  statue,  and  repeating  a 
formula,  part  of  which  ran  :  '  Nut  has  raised  thy 
head,  Horus  has  taken  his  diadem  and  his  powers, 
Set  has  taken  his  diadem  and  his  powers,  then  the 
diadem  has  come  out  of  thy  head  and  has  brought 


CROWN 


339 


the  gods  to  thee.'  This  referred  to  the  myth  of 
Nut  raising  the  head  of  Osiris,  and  the  gods  Horus 
and  Set  placing  the  crowns  of  the  north  and  the  sou  th 
upon  it.  This  would  be  done  to  the  dead,  and  the 
magic  virtue  in  these  crowns,  or  in  the  urceus 
which  adorned  them,  would  bring  the  gods  into  his 
power.  Garlands  and  wreaths  decked  the  tombs, 
just  as  the  tomb  of  Osiris  was  said  to  have  been 
crowned  with  flowers  ;  and  wreaths  were  also  worn 
by  guests  at  feasts  in  honour  of  the  dead  before  the 
final  burial  (Maspero,  Etudes  de  myth,  et  d'arch. 
(g.,  Paris,  1893,  i.  218,  306,  316,  318,  358 f. ;  Pleyte, 
'  La  Couronne  de  Justification,'  Actes  du  6"*  Cong. 
intern.desOrient.,  Leyden,  1884,  pt.vi.  1-30;  Wilkin- 
son, i.  403,  iii.  396,  430,  432  ;  Plut.  de  Isid.  21  ;  see 
Charms  and  Amulets  [Egyp.  ],  vol.  iii.  p.  431b,  on 
models  of  diadems  of  Osiris  buried  with  the  dead, 
who.  assimilated  to  the  god,  would  wear  those 
crowns  in  the  other  world).  Flowers  and  garlands 
are  also  carried  to  the  graves  in  modern  Egypt. 

In  the  Brahmanic  funeral  ritual  the  bodies  of 
the  dead  are  decked  with  wreaths  and  flowers. 
Wreaths  are  also  offered  in  the  funeral  rites  and 
given  to  Brahmans  (Colebrooke,  Life  and  Essays, 
1873,  ii.  173,  175,  178,  193  ;  cf.  SBE  i.  [1900]  137,  xi. 
[1900]  93,  122-3).  Among  the  Nahuas,  a  statue 
was  placed  beside  the  body  of  a  dead  king,  with  a 
garland  of  heron's  feathers  on  its  head  {NE  ii.  606). 
Wreaths  and  garlands  were  also  used  in  Polynesia 
and  Melanesia  to  decorate  the  dead,  or  the  altars 
in  the  houses  used  as  depositories  of  their  bodies 
(Brown,  387  ;  Ellis,  i.  404).  The  early  Christians 
refused  to  make  any  use  of  funeral  chaplets  (Tert. 
de  Cor.  10;  Min.  Felix,  12,  37;  Clem.  Alex.  Peed.  ii. 
8),  but  it  was  not  long  before  the  prejudice  against 
them  was  overcome.  As  a  symbol  of  the  martyr's 
death  a  crown  is  found  among  the  emblems  on 
tombs,  and  chaplets  or  wreaths  became  a  common 
adjunct  of  Christian  funerals.  In  modern  Greece 
dead  maidens  and  children  even  are  crowned  with 
flowers  (Abbott,  193). 

5.  Crowns  and  chaplets  as  offerings. — Crowns 
and  garlands  being  so  intimately  associated  with 
cult,  they  are  a  common  species  of  sacrificial 
offering,  besides  being  placed  on  the  heads  of 
victims  (see  next  art.  ;  Pausan.  ii.  17.  6,  v.  12.  8 ; 
Lucian,  de  Dea  Syria).  At  the  feast  of  Ceres 
women  presented  corn-wreaths  as  an  offering  of 
firstfruits  to  her  (Ovid,  Met.  x.  431  ffi).  In  India, 
wreaths,  garlands,  and  flowers  are  frequent  objects 
in  most  sacrifices.  The  Egyptians  offered  chaplets 
and  wreaths  to  the  gods  and  laid  them  on  the 
altars,  and  presented  golden  diadems  with  the 
urceus  at  the  shrine  of  the  statue  of  a  king 
(Wilkinson,  iii.  356,  417).  Of  great  interest  are 
the  votive  crowns  of  early  mediaeval  times.  These 
were  offered  by  monarchs  to  shrines  or  churches, 
and  dedicated  by  them  to  God  on  some  particular 
occasion.  There  is  no  doubt  that,  besides  imita- 
tion crowns,  the  actual  crowns  were  often  dedicated 
in  this  way  and  occasionally  used  for  coronations. 
They  were  suspended  by  chains  over  the  altar,  and 
from  the  inner  side  usually  hung  a  richly -jewelled 
cross.  Other  ornaments  were  suspended  from  the 
lower  edge,  or  the  dedicatory  inscription  was  some- 
times formed  of  separate  letters  depending  from  it, 
e.g.  in  the  crowns  of  Svintilla  ana  Reccesvinthus 
the  pensile  letters  form  the  inscriptions,  'Svintilla 
Rex  offert'  and  '  Reccesvinthus  Rex  offeret.'  Be- 
sides the  cross  a  lamp  often  depended  from  these 
crowns,  and  from  them  the  pensile  corona;  lucis  of 
churches  have  originated. 

Examples  of  such  votive  crowns  are  numerous.  The  iron 
crown  of  Lombardy  is  a  band  of  iron  (said  to  have  been  ham- 
mered out  of  a  nail  of  the  cross)  enshrined  in  a  circlet  made  of 
six  gold  plates,  richly  enamelled  and  jewelled,  and  hinged 
together.  This  crown  is  known  to  have  been  used  at  the 
coronation  of  Agilulfus  in  591,  and  it  was  in  all  probability  a 
votive  crown  (Fontanini,  de  Cor.  ferrea,  1717  ;   Labarte,  Arts 


indust.  ou  moyen  dge,  Paris,  1872-6.  ii.  66  f. ;  Chambers, 
Book  of  Days,  i.  673).  Eight  magnificent  votive  crowns  of 
Reccesvinthus,  king  of  the  Spanish  Visigoths,  his  queen,  and 
family,  dating  from  the  7th  cent.,  were  found  in  1868  at  La 
Fuente  de  Guarraz  near  Toledo  (Labarte,  i.  499 ;  F.  Lasteyrie, 
Descr.  du  trtsor  de  Guarrazar,  Paris,  1860  ;  Chambers,  ii.  659). 
Another  beautiful  specimen  is  that  of  Svintilla,  king  of  the 
Visigoths  (621-631),  now  at  Madrid.  On  the  whole  subject,  6ee 
the  works  cited,  and  Way,  Arch.  Journ.  xvi.  253  ff.  ;  DC  A  i. 
460,  606. 

Crowns  or  wreaths  of  gold  formed  a  species  of 
tribute  presented  by  subject  peoples  to  kings,  an 
example  being  found  in  the  tribute  of  crowns 
commuted  to  a  money  payment,  the  crown-tax 
paid  by  the  Jews  to  Demetrius  and  Antiochus 
(1  Mac  1029  11s5  1337"39,  2  Mac  144 ;  Josephus,  Ant. 
xn.  iii.  3). 

6.  Priestly  crowns.  —  The  practice  of  special 
head-dresses  being  used  to  mark  off  certain  classes 
led  to  the  use  of  these  by  medicine-men  or  priests, 
and  not  infrequently  they  took  a  coronal  form,  or, 
as  in  Greek  and  Boman  ritual,  chaplets  were  worn 
by  priests. 

Among  the  Buriats  the  shaman  formerly  wore  a  crown  con- 
sisting of  an  iron  ring  with  two  iron  convex  arches  crossing  it  at 
right  angles — an  elaboration  of  the  simple  fillet  or  band  (ERE 
iii.  16b).  in  Mexico  the  chief  priest  of  the  great  temple  wore  a 
crown  of  green  and  yellow  feathers,  his  assistants  merely  having 
their  hair  plaited  and  bound  with  leathern  thongs.  The  priest 
of  Tlaloc  at  the  festival  of  the  god  wore  a  crown  of  basket-work 
closely  fitting  below  and  spreading  out  above,  with  many 
plumes  rising  from  the  middle  of  it.  The  Toci  priest,  in  offering 
sacrifice  to  the  Mother-goddess,  had  a  square  crown,  wide 
above,  with  banners  at  the  corners  and  in  the  middle  (NR  ii. 
307,  iii.  341,  356).  In  Japan  part  of  the  distinctive  dress  of  the 
Shinto  priest  is  a  black  cap  (eboshi)  bound  round  the  head  with 
a  broad  white  fillet  (Aston,  Shinto,  1905,  p.  204).  Among  the 
Teutons  the  Gothic  priests  belonged  to  the  nobility,  the  pUeati, 
those  wearing  a  cap,  as  compared  with  the  common  people,  the 
capillati,  with  flowing  hair ;  garlands  were  also  worn  (de  la 
Saussaye,  366;  Grimm,  Teut.  Myth.,  1880-81,  pp.  91,  909). 
Tibetan  priests  at  their  ceremonies  wear  a  6pecies  of  helmet 
mitre,  fitting  over  the  back  and  crown  of  the  head,  and  of  a  red 
or  3'ellow  colour,  according  as  the  wearer  belongs  to  the  one 
or  the  other  great  Buddhist  sect  (Rockhill,  op.  cit.  p.  85  f.). 
Sculptures  in  Cappadocia  show  the  ancient  priest  or  priest-king 
of  that  region  wearing  a  high  round  head-dress  encircled  with 
fillets  and  ornamented  in  front  with  a  rosette  or  bunch  of  jewels  ; 
the  god  beside  him  wears  a  high  pointed  head-dress  (Frazer, 
Adonis^,  101  ft" .).  The  priests  of  Sandan  (Heracles)  at  Tarsus  were 
called  '  crown-wearers,'  and  elected  to  that  office.  One  of  them, 
Lysias,  wore  a  golden  laurel  wreath  (Athen.  v.  54  ;  Frazer,  111). 
The  high-priest  of  the  Syrian  goddess  at  Hierapolis  wore  a 

golden  tiara,  the  lesser  priests  a  hat  (ttiAck,  Lucian,  de  Dea 
yria,  42).  The  ancient  Parsi  priests  wore  high  conical  head- 
dresses (Stcll,  463),  and  Assyrian  priests  a  kind  of  high  truncated 
cone  or  mitre  of  imposing  appearance,  or  sometimes  a  richly 
ornamented  fillet  (Rawlinson,  ii.  199,  275,  278).  Babylonian 
priests  wore  an  elaborate  mitre,  assigned  also  to  the  gods,  or  a 
second  kind  of  mitre,  or  occasionally  a  horned  cap.  The  head 
is  usually  represented  covered  in  sacrifices  and  other  rites  (ib. 
iii.  434).  Among  the  Hebrews  the  priests'  mitre  or  head-dress, 
njjarp  plur.  (/a'Sapis,  AV  '  bonnet,'  RV  '  head-tire,'  Ex  28™  299 
S928,  Lv  8]3),  was  made  of  swathes  of  linen  covered  with  a  piece 
of  fine  linen  hiding  the  seams  of  the  swathes  and  reaching  to  the 
forehead.  Possibly  it  resembled  the  Assyr.  and  Bab.  conical 
cap,  truncated  (cf.  Jos.  Ant.  m.  vii.  3,  '  not  brought  to  a  conical 
form  ').  Josephus  says  it  resembled  a  crown.  The  high-priest'a 
mitre  or  turban  (Ex  284- 39),  nsyjD  (a  word  applied  by  Jos.  Ant. 
ni.  vii.  3  to  the  priests'  mitre  also),  probably  differed  in  shape 
from  the  former.  In  addition  a  plate  of  gold,  py  (TreraXov), 
was  fastened  on  blue  lace  and  affixed  to  the  front  of  the  mitre 
or  on  the  forehead.  Itborethewords'  Holy  to  Jahweh. '  The 
plate  is  also  called  "1T3,  '  diadem '  or  '  mark  of  separation '  (Ex  296, 
cf.  3930-31  '  the  plate  of  the  holy  crown  of  pure  gold '),  and  is  on 
the  mitre.  This  suggests  a  fillet  rather  than  a  plate,  worn 
round  the  mitre  (cf.  Sir  4512  '  gold  crowns,'  and  1  Mac  1020, 
where  Alexander  sends  to  Jonathan  '  a  crown  [ure^avos]  of  gold.' 
In  Is  281  the  [">•  is  parallel  to  rnoj; , '  diadem ').  If  the  |"X  was  a 
fillet  of  gold,  there  would  then  be  a  close  correspondence  to  what 
Josephus  (BJ  v.  v.  7)  says  cf  the  golden  crown  or  fillet  (o-re^ac »s) 
with  the  sacred  characters,  which  surrounded  the  mitre  of  fine 
linen,  encompassed  by  a  blue  ribbon.  The  descriptions  suggest 
a  head-dress  like  the  royal  Persian  khshatram,  a  cap  swelling 
out  to  the  top,  and  surrounded  by  a  fillet  or  diadem  (see  §  8). 

Josephus  gives  a  different  description  of  the  high-priest's  mitre 
in  Ant.  v.  vii.  6,  which  is  not  reconcilable  with  the  description 
in  the  other  passage,  and  which  is  far  from  clear  (see  BDB  and 
EBi,  s.v.  '  Mitre '). 

Occasional  references  are  made  in  early  ecclesi- 
astical writings  to  a  head-dress  worn  by  the  clergy 
during  service.  The  mitre  of  a  bishop,  a  head-dress 
cloven  above  into  two  erect  tongue-shaped  parts, 


340 


CROWN 


was  at  first  an  Eastern  head-dress,  especially 
characteristic  of  Phrygia,  and  hence  formerly 
called  'Phrygium.'  It  is  rarely  alluded  to  before 
A.D.  1000,  but  in  1049  Leo  IX.  placed  a  mitre  on  the 
head  of  Eberhard,  Abp.  of  Treves  (PL  cxliii.  595). 
From  this  time  the  references  become  much  more 
common,  showing  that  the  use  was  spreading.  The 
mitre  is  usually  made  of  fine  or  rich  material, 
embroidered,  and  often  studded  with  gems.  From 
the  back  depend  two  fringed  bands  hanging  over 
the  nape  of  the  neck.  It  is  unknown  in  the 
Eastern  Church,  but  is  worn  by  all  Roman  Catholic 
bishops  and  by  abbots  exempt  from  Episcopal 
jurisdiction  and  others  privileged  to  wear  it.  Its 
use  was  discontinued  after  the  Reformation  in  the 
Anglican  Church,  but  it  is  now  commonly  worn  by 
bishops,  and  has  always  been  a  symbol  of  their 
office  (see  W.  H.  Marriott,  Vestiarium  Christianum, 
Lond.  1868,  p.  220  if.  ;  Hefele,  '  Inful,  Mitra,  und 
Tiara,'  Beitr.  z.  Kirchengesch.,  Tub.  1864,  ii.  223  f.  ; 
DC  A,  s.v.  'Mitre').  In  the  earlier  centuries, 
virgins  assuming  the  veil  wore  a  head-dress  called 
a  mitre  (Bingham,  Ant.  VII.  iv.  6 ;  Isidore,  de 
Eccl.  offic.  II.  xviii.  11).  The  Papal  tiara  (a  word  of 
Persian  origin,  signifying  a  high  head-dress)  is  a 
swelling  pointed  and  closed  head-dress,  which  has 
varied  much  in  shape  (in  the  14th  cent,  it  was 
dome-shaped  and  oval).  To  this  was  added,  at 
some  date  unknown,  a  single  crown  (symbolizing 
the  temporal  sovereignty  of  the  Popes)  encircling 
the  lower  part,  and,  probably  in  the  12th  cent.,  a 
second  crown  was  set  above  this.  The  third  crown 
was  added  by  Urban  v.  (1362-70).  At  the  top  is 
fixed  a  small  ball  and  cross  of  gold,  and,  as  in  the 
case  of  a  mitre,  two  bands  hang  down  behind 
(Hefele,  op.  cit.). 

7.  Divine  crowns  and  chaplets. — As  various 
plants  were  sacred  to  the  gods,  chaplets  of  such 
plants  were  often  associated  with  them.  Tertullian 
(de  Cor.  7)  cites  a  work  on  crowns  by  Claudius 
Saturninus,  which  described  how  every  flower, 
branch,  or  shoot  was  dedicated  to  the  head  of 
some  divinity.  Hence  the  custom  of  offering 
chaplets  to  the  gods,  of  crowning  their  images 
with  them,  or  of  representing  them  wearing  chap- 
lets. They  also  wear  crowns  (Pausan.  ii.  17.  4,  6, 
v.  11.  1;  Granger,  251,  305;  see  next  art.).  In 
many  eases  the  crowns  with  which  images  are 
represented  are  replicas  of  the  kingly  crown,  or, 
where  a  king  was  held  to  be  divine,  he  often  wore 
the  head-dress  peculiar  to  the  god  with  whom  he 
was  identified.  The  god  was  naturally  regarded 
as  a  heavenly  king  who  wore  the  royal  insignia  ; 
and,  contrariwise,  the  divine  king  wore  the  insignia 
of  the  god. 

In  Mexico,  at  the  festival  of  Huitzilopochtli  his  image  was 
crowned  with  a  paper  crown,  wide  at  the  top  and  set  with 
plumes.  Many  other  Mexican  images  wore  crowns,  or  were 
adorned  with  them  at  festivals,  and  crowns  were  also  worn  by 
their  human  representatives  (NR  ii.  322,  337,  iii.  344,  352,  369, 
385,  etc.).  The  images  of  the  snake-goddess  found  in  the  ^Egean 
area  wear  a  high  tiara,  over  which  a  snake  rears  its  head  (see 
fig.  in  vol.  1.  p.  143).  On  the  head  of  the  god  sculptured  on  the 
rocks  at  Ibreez  is  a  high  pointed  cap  adorned  with  a  fillet  and 
several  pairs  of  horns,  and  the  goddess  of  the  Hittite  sculptures 
at  Boghaz-Keui  wears  a  flat-topped  head-dress  with  ribbed  sides ; 
this  is  also  worn  by  her  female  worshippers  (Frazer,  Adonis'*,  100, 
105).  The  goddess  Cybele  wore  a  turreted  crown,  and  so  also  did 
the  Syrian  goddess,  Atargatis(Lucr.  ii.  606  ;  Lucian,  deDeaSyr. 
31).  Persian  divinities  wear  a  tiara  like  that  of  the  kings  or  that 
worn  by  court  officials  (Ravvlinson,  iv.  333),  and  on  the  monu- 
ments of  the  Mithraic  cult  the  god  is  frequently  represented 
wearing  an  Oriental  tiara  (Toutain, '  La  Legende  de  M.,'  £tudes 
de  la  myth.,  1909,  p.  23Lff.).  The  crown  of  gold  and  precious 
stones  which  David  captured  and  placed  on  his  head  belonged 
to  an  image  of  the  Ammonites  (2  S  12*)).  Bab.  and  Assyr. 
divinities  are  usually  represented  wearing  the  characteristic 
head-dress  of  the  monarchs — a  rounded  cap  with  parallel  horns 
encircling  it  from  behind,  and  curving  upward  towards  the  front 
without  meeting.  This  head-dress  sometimes  symbolizes  the 
divinity  on  the  astrological  tablets  (Rawlinson,  ii.  244,  iv.  334  ; 
Maspero,  Dawn  of  Civilization,  1S94,  p.  055).  Bah.  divinities  are 
also  said  to  have  been  crowned  with  golden  crowns  (Ep:  Jer.9). 
In  the  Descent  of  Istar,  at  the  first  gate  of  Hades  the  keeper 


depriveB  Igtar  of  'the  mighty  crown  of  her  head.'  In  Egypt 
the  statues  of  the  gods  were  often  crowned  with  chaplets  and 
wreaths,  but,  besides  this,  they  are  usually  represented  with 
some  symbolic  head-dress — the  sun,  and  horns,  or  plumes,  or  the 
urceus  and  disk,  etc.  But  they  frequently  wear  the  crowns 
characteristic  of  the  kings — the  high  white  crown  of  the  south, 
or  the  red  crown  of  the  north,  or  both  together,  enclosed  or  side 
by  side,  just  as  the  kings  wore  their  emblems  ;  e.g.  the  king  aa 
Ammon  wore  the  tall  hat,  with  long  plumes,  of  the  god.  Osiris 
is  frequently  represented,  e.g.  in  the  small  golden  images  of  the 
god  as  a  mummy  used  in  the  festival  of  the  month  Choiak,  or  in 
the  judgment  scenes,  wearing  the  white  crown  flanked  by  two 
plumes,  or  with  the  urceus,  worn  also  on  the  crown  of  the  sun- 
god.  The  atef  crown  is  also  worn  by  some  gods  (Wilkinson,  iii. 
ch.  13  ;  Budge,  Gods  of  the  Egyptians,  1903,  passim ;  Book  of  the 
Dead,  cvii.-cxxii.).  Images  and  pictures  of  Hindu  divinities 
usually  show  them  wearing  simple  or  elaborate  crowns  or  tiaras, 
sometimes  with  a  nimbus.  Or  separate  crowns  form  part  of  the 
decoration  and  dress  of  an  image.  These  are  often  of  great  value, 
and  are  encrusted  with  precious  gems— diamonds,  pearls,  rubies, 
etc.  The  myths  and  sacred  books  occasionally  refer  to  the 
crowns  of  the  gods  (Wilkins,  Hindu  Myth.z,  Calcutta,  1882 ; 
Monier- Williams,  219, 449).  In  Buddhism  the  figures  of  Buddha, 
of  Bodhisattvas,  and  (in  Tibet)  of  the  divinities  of  the  Buddhist 
pantheon  are  frequently  represented  with  crowns  or  coronal 
head-dresses  or  tiara-like  structures  (Wilkins,  225 ;  Rockhill,  103, 
131,  293;  Griinwedel,  Buddh.  Kunst,  Berlin,  1900 ;  Stoll,  692). 

In  later  Christian  art,  God  the  Father  is  repre- 
sented with  the  current  regal  or  imperial  crowns, 
or  with  the  Papal  tiara  encircled,  according  to  the 
period,  with  one,  two,  or  three  crowns,  but  also 
sometimes,  as  if  to  show  His  superiority  to  the 
Pope,  with  five  crowns.  In  earlier  art,  Christ  is 
sometimes  represented  with  the  brow  encircled  by 
a  diadem,  and  later  with  the  regal  or  imperial  crown 
or  the  Papal  tiara ;  to  this  is  sometimes  added 
the  crown  of  thorns,  which,  by  itself,  is  figured 
in  many  other  representations,  especially  of  the 
Crucifixion.  Where  the  Trinity  is  represented 
as  one  Person  with  three  faces,  the  head  is  often 
adorned  with  a  single  crown  or  tiara  (A.  N.  Didron, 
Chr.  Iconography,  Lond.  1S86,  passim).  The  Virgi  n 
is  also  represented  with  a  crown,  or  is  depicted  i  n 
the  act  of  being  crowned  by  the  Father  or  the  Son 
or  the  Trinity  with  the  crown  of  a  queen  or  empress, 
reference  being  made  to  the  texts  Ps  21s  86,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  crowning  of  the  Son  by  the  Father 
after  the  Ascension.  This  was  in  accordance  with 
the  legend  of  the  Virgin's  coronation  in  heaven 
after  her  Assumption.  Angels  and  Christian  vir- 
tues, and  even  the  figure  of  Death,  are  often  repre- 
sented with  a  crown  (Didron,  passim).  Some  of 
the  Gnostics  crowned  their  sacred  images  (the  Car- 
pocratians  [Iren.  adv.  Hcer.  i.  25.  6]),  and  from  this 
or  from  the  similar  pagan  practice  the  custom 
passed  into  the  Christian  Church,  and  images  or 
pictures  were  crowned  with  special  ceremonies 
when  they  were  dedicated  (Trede,  Das  Hciclen- 
thum  in  der  rom.  Kirche,  Gotha,  1891,  i.  104,  283, 
ii.  343  ff.,  iv.  245-48,  etc.  ;  for  the  modern  Roman 
usage,  see  Cath.  Encyc.  vii.  670).  Images  of  the 
Madonna  on  waysides  are  also  crowned  with  chap- 
lets (Trede,  iv.  208). 

8.  Royal  crowns. — We  have  seen  (§  I)  that  the 
royal  crown  originated  from  the  wearing  of  a  special 
head-dress  by  special  classes,  or  it  is  a  specialized 
form  of  the  ordinary  head-dress.  Among  the  higher 
savages,  some  such  head-dress  is  worn  by  chiefs, 
like  the  band  of  cloth  worn  round  the  temples  as  a 
kind  of  crown  by  some  chiefs  in  E.  Africa,  or  the 
frontlet  or  crown  with  a  wig  of  woman's  hair  worn 
by  chiefs  in  Samoa  (Macdonald,  Africana,  i.  16 ; 
Brown,  316;  cf.  also  the  other  instances  in  §  I). 
We  turn  now  to  the  higher  nations  of  antiquity. 

In  Assyria  the  royal  crown  consisted  of  a  head- 
dress of  felt  or  cloth,  shaped  as  a  cone  rising  in  a 
gracefully  curved  line,  and  truncated  at  the  apex. 
The  upper  part  receded  into  the  lower,  so  that 
the  top  alone  was  visible  and  projected  above  the 
former.  It  was  ornamented  with  red  and  white 
bands  with  embroidery  or  plates  of  gold.  Round 
the  lower  edge  was  a  band  or  diadem  rising  in  front 
with  a  large  rosette,  with  the  ends  hanging  down 
behind  the  ears  to  the  shoulders.     Sometimes  such 


CROWN 


341 


a  fillet,  higher  in  front  or  uniform  in  width,  is  worn 
alone,  and  in  the  earlier  sculptures  the  tiara  is 
lower  than  in  the  later.  The  queen  wore  a  diadem 
with  turrets  like  the  crown  of  Cybele  (Kawlinson, 
ii.  100,  108 ;  Stoll,  210,  459,  463).  In  Babylon  the 
kings  wore  the  horned  cap,  the  symbol  of  divinity 
— a  kind  of  rounded  cone  with  a  double  pair  of 
horns  surrounding  the  sides  and  front,  or  a  tower- 
shaped  head-dress  with  or  without  these  horns, 
terminating  in  a  coronet  of  feathers.  The  lower 
space  was  decorated  with  rosettes,  etc.  It  was 
made  of  richly  coloured  felt  or  cloth.  The  higher 
classes,  both  in  Assyria  and  in  Babylonia,  wore  a 
distinctive  head-dress  (Rawlinson,  i.  133,  iii.  433  ; 
Maspero,  719 ;  Stoll,  459).  The  royal  crown  of 
Persia,  the  khshatram,  was  a  high  cap  of  bright 
coloured  felt  or  cloth,  swelling  out  slightly  towards 
the  flat  top,  and  terminating  in  a  projecting  ring. 
Round  the  bottom  ran  a  fillet  or  'band  of  blue' 
spotted  with  white — the  diadem  strictly  so  called. 
It  was  adopted  by  Alexander  and  his  successors. 
In  some  cases  the  kings  are  represented  wearing 
more  or  less  ornamental  diadems  or  radiated 
crowns,  or  a  head-dress  resembling  that  of  the 
Medes — a  high-crowned  hat,  with  ribbed  sides, 
called  tiara  or  Icidaris  (  =  khshatram),  the  latter 
word  being  applied  to  the  royal  tiara  (Rawlinson, 
iii.  86,  iv.  155).  In  Egypt,  diadems  were  worn  by 
princely  personages,  but  that  peculiarly  symbolic 
of  royal  authority  was  the  Mj-<EK.s-serpent,  of  metal 
or  gilded  wood,  the  coiled  body  forming  the  diadem, 
and  the  head  poised  above  the  forehead  of  the 
monarch.  It  was  also  affixed  to  other  head-dresses 
Morn  by  the  king  in  common  with  the  gods. 

Of  these  the  most  important  were  the  white  crown  of  Upper 
Egypt,  a  tall  conical  head-dress  swelling  out  slightly  in  front 
and  terminating  in  a  rounded  knob ;  and  the  red  crown  of 
Lower  Egypt,  cylindrical  in  form  but  widening  out  upwards, 
and  with  the  back  part  carried  higher  than  the  front.  The 
combination  of  the  two  crownB,  the  white  worn  within  the  red, 
was  called  pshent.  They  were  put  on  at  the  coronation  ;  and  on 
bas-reliefs,  female  figures  symbolic  of  the  two  Egypts,  each 
crowned  with  the  respective  crown  of  her  district,  stand  on 
either  side  of  a  king  wearing  the  pshent.  In  other  cases,  Nubti 
or  Set  and  Horus  crown  the  king,  and  goddesses  invest  the 
queen  with  her  insignia — two  long  feathers  and  the  globe  and 
horns  of  Hathor.  These  crowns  were  also  worn  in  battle  and 
on  other  occasions,  and  they,  with  other  forms,  were  common 
to  gods  and  kings.  Thus  the  king  is  described  as  '  son  of  the 
Sun,  decked  with  the  solar  crowns'  (Wilkinson,  ii.  327,  iii.  361 ; 
Maspero,  265;  M.  Brimmer,  Egypt,  Camb.  U.S.A.,  1892,  p.  12; 
A.  Moret,  Du  Caractere  rel.  de  la  royauti  pharaonique,  Paris, 
1902,  p.  310). 

In  religious  ceremonies  the  king  wore  a  striped 
linen  head-dress,  descending  in  front  over  the 
breast,  and  terminating  in  a  queue  fastened  by  a 
ribbon.  Fillets  of  gold  and,  occasionally,  radiated 
crowns  were  worn  by  the  Ptolemys.  Among  the 
Hebrews  a  common  word  for  crown  is  "in,  which 
signifies  'consecration'  or  'mark  of  separation,' 
and  is  applied  both  to  the  gold  plate  or  fillet  of  the 
high  priest's  mitre  (Ex  296  393u),  and  to  the  royal 
diadem  or  fillet,  which  may  have  been  of  gold  or 
of  embroidered  silk  decorated  with  jewels  (2  S  l10, 
2  K  ll12 — the  only  reference  to  coronation  ;  cf.  Zee 
916  'the  stones  of  a  crown').  Another  word,  n-jaji, 
is  also  used,  both  for  the  royal  crown  and  for  the 
crown  in  a  symbolic  sense  (2  S  1230,  Ezk  2125,  Is  281, 
Job  19°,  Pr  49  etc.).  This  word  may  signify  a 
diadem,  since  in  Ca  3"  it  is  applied  to  the  bride- 
groom's garland,  but  in  Job  313<i  the  ."na^  can  be 
bound  to  the  head.  This  may  refer  to  a  head-dress 
of  a  turban  form.  Possibly  the  diadem  proper 
surrounded  another  head-dress  of  a  turban  shape, 
or  like  the  Persian  or  Assyrian  examples. 

The  crown  of  a  conquered  monarch  was  some- 
times set  on  the  head  along  with  the  conqueror's 
own  diadem.  In  1  Mac  11",  Ptolemy  set  the  crowns 
of  Egypt  and  Asia  on  his  head  when  entering 
Antioch  in  triumph  (cf.  Diod.  Sic.  i.  47  ;  Rev  1912). 

The  early  Christian  emperors  wore  fillets  or 
diadems  of  gold  adorned  with  jewels,  or  of  rich 


silk  (the  latter  finally  disappearing  in  the  time  of 
Justinian  [Labarte,  ii.  39]).  The  diadem  is  some- 
times worn  alone,  or  it  surrounds  a  cupola  or 
jewelled  cap,  the  combination  of  cap  or  tiara  and 
diadem  resembling  that  of  the  Persian  kings.  In 
antiquity  the  fillet  or  diadem  easily  passed  over  into 
a  crown  by  the  addition  of  a  row  of  ornaments  or 
symbols  to  the  upper  edge  of  the  circumference  of 
a  metal  diadem.  This  is  already  seen  in  the  corona 
muralis,  navalis,  vallaris,  etc.,  or  in  the  radiate 
crowns  of  the  Persian  kings,  the  Ptolemys,  and 
Nero  and  later  Roman  emperors.  The  form  of 
these  radiate  crowns  is  also  connected  probably 
with  the  radiate  nimbus  with  which  kings  were 
often  represented,  and  which  was  the  adornment  of 
the  sun-god  as  well  as  of  other  divinities  in  art. 
Such  crowns  were  thus  a  symbol  of  the  monarch's 
divinity  (Dieterich,  Nekyia,  Leipzig,  1893,  p.  419  ; 
Didron,  i.  34  ff. ).  Crowns,  as  distinct  from  dia- 
dems, appear  in  early  mediaeval  Europe.  In 
England  the  diadem  soon  gave  place  to  the  crown. 
William  the  Conqueror  and  other  Norman  kings 
wore  diadems  ornamented  on  the  upper  edge  with 
trefoil  uprights,  and  the  crown  form  soon  became 
more  elaborate.  The  first  English  example  of  an 
arched  crown  dates  from  the  reign  of  Henry  IV, 
The  coronets  of  English  peers  are  circlets  of  gold, 
variously  ornamented  according  to  rank  (like  the 
crowns  of  Continental  nobles),  and  enclosing  a 
crimson  velvet  cap  edged  with  ermine.  The 
earliest  is  the  ducal  coronet,  1362  ;  the  latest  that 
of  barons,  1660  (see  Legge,  English  Coronation 
Records,  1901). 

9.  Sacred  and  magical  aspects  of  the  crown. — 
We  find,  sporadically,  medical  or  magical  virtues 
ascribed  to  wreaths  and  chaplets  ( Athen.  xv.  16,  and 
cf.  the  magical  efficacy  attributed  to  bridal  and 
to  funeral  wreaths  in  Egypt,  §§  3,  4).  This  would 
be  a  natural  result  where  garlands  were  made  of 
the  flowers  or  leaves  of  sacred  plants  or  trees. 
Wherever  the  king  is  honoured  as  divine,  the 
crown,  as  the  peculiar  symbol  of  royalty,  will  have 
a  magical  character,  more  particularly  as  it  is  so 
frequently  worn  also  by  the  gods. 

The  golden  wreaths  and  chaplets  of  oak  leaves  worn  by  early 
Greek  and  Italian  kings,  as  well  as  by  other  persons  in  later 
times,  are  supposed  to  have  originally  marked  the  wearer  as  vice- 
gerent of  a  god  of  whom  the  oak  was  the  sacred  tree,  and  in 
which  as  well  as  in  the  wearer  of  the  wreath  he  was  supposed  to 
be  incarnate  (Cook,  FL  xvii.  (190C]  316 ;  Frazer,  Kingship,  198  ff.). 
While  this  is  not  impossible,  and  while,  generally  speaking, 
wreaths  of  leaves  or  flowers  may  denote  a  connexion  with 
divinities,  it  is  probable  that  the  diadem  of  a  monarch  did  not 
necessarily  denote  his  divinity,  though,  as  representing  the 
highest  sovereignty,  it  was  natural  that  gods  should  also  be  re- 
presented with  it.  The  god  was  represented  under  the  highest 
forms  known  to  men,  and  these  were  generally  royal. 

The  regalia  of  kings  tend  always  to  be  regarded] 
as  peculiarly  sacred.  In  some  quarters  possession 
of  them  '  carries  with  it  the  right  to  the  throne,' 
and  they  have  wonder-working  properties,  as  among 
the  Malays  (Frazer,  Kingship,  121,  124  ;  Skeat, 
Malay  Magic,  1900,  pp.  23,  59).  Generally  speak- 
ing, the  word  '  crown  '  comes  to  be  used  figuratively 
for  all  that  the  monarchy  implies.  In  Egypt  the 
urceus  diadem,  emblem  of  sovereignty,  had  a 
magical  power,  and  could  execute  the  king's  secret 
purposes  or  inflict  vengeance.  It  is  said  to  '  burn 
his  enemies  with  its  flames  '  ;  it  threw  itself  upon 
those  who  approached  it,  and  choked  them  in  its 
coils.  The  supernatural  virtues  thus  communi- 
cated to  the  crown  gave  it  an  irresistible  force,  and 
the  royal  crown  was  also  regarded  as  having  divine 
power  (Erman,  Die  agyptisehe  Rel.,  Berlin,  1905, 
p.  40 ;  Maspero,  265,  Etudes,  i.  78-79 ;  cf.  also 
Etudes,  ii.  134,  for  other  magical  crowns  ;  and  for 
the  magical  powers  of  the  crowns  of  the  dead,  see 
§  4).  Crowns  may  have  been  occasionally  used  as 
instruments  of  divination,  e.g.  in  the  choice  of  a 
king.     Tn  a  Transylvanian  folk-tale  the  crown  is 


342 


CROWN  (Greek  and  Roman) 


laid  before  the  assembly  on  a  hillock.  It  rises, 
floats  in  the  air,  and  lights  on  the  head  of  the 
destined  king  (J.  Haltrich,  Deutsche  Vol/csmdrchen4, 
Vienna,  1885,  p.  195).  The  Yorubas  of  W.  Africa 
look  upon  the  royal  crown  as  possessing  magical 
powers,  and  sheep  are  occasionally  sacrificed  to  it 
by  the  king  himself  (MacGregor,  Jour.  Afr.  Soc, 
no.  12  [1904],  p.  472).  Crowns  are  sometimes 
mythically  said  to  have  descended  from  heaven 
upon  the  king's  head  (Bousset,  Gnosis,  Gottingen, 
1907,  p.  147).  There  may  also  have  been  current 
an  idea  that  the  life  of  a  king  depended  on  the 
safety  of  his  crown.  In  the  Mandsean  myths  of 
the  conquest  of  the  dark  powers  Ur  and  Ruha  by 
Manda  d'Hajje  and  by  Hibil  Ziwa,  Ur  is  deprived 
by  both  heroes  of  his  crown  'of  lining  fire,'  in 
which  his  strength  lies,  and  in  this  way  he  loses 
all  his  might  (W.  Brandt,  Mandaische  Schriften, 
Gbttingen,  1893,  pp.  131,  175,  178).  These  myths 
are  certainly  based  on  some  current  belief  in  the 
magical  virtue  of  the  crown. 

io.  The  crown  in  early  Christian  thought. — In 
the  NT  the  victor's  crown  at  the  games  (aricpavos) 
is  used  symbolically  of  the  reward  of  a  faithful 
Christian  course,  the  incorruptible  o-rttbavos  being 
contrasted  with  the  corruptible  (1  Co  926 ;  ef.  2  Ti 
2s).  It  is  a  '  crown  of  righteousness'  (2  Ti  48),  the 
'  immortal  crown  of  glory '  (6  a/n.apdvTU'os  rijs  db^ns 
<rTi<pa.vos,  1  P  54),  the  '  crown  of  life  '  ( Ja  l12,  Rev  210 ; 
cf.  311).  Hence  in  visions  of  heaven  the  crowns  are 
prominent.  The  elders  in  Rev  44  wear  crowns 
(aritbavoi.)  of  gold  ;  in  the  Ascension  of  Isaiah  the 
prophet  sees  crowns  laid  up  in  the  highest  heaven 
for  the  saints  ;  in  Barlaam  and  Josaphat,  Josaphat 
sees  the  people  of  the  heavenly  city  with  crowns  in 
their  hands  (J.  P.  Boissonade,  Anec.  Groeca,  Paris, 
1829-31,  iv.  360).  Christ  has  on  His  head  'many 
diadems'  (oia5^aTa7roXXa,  Revl912),  one  fillet  bound 
above  the  other,  signifying  different  sovereignties 
(cf.  131,  where  the  dragon  has  ten  diadems).  This 
conception  is  already  found  in  later  Judaism  ;  the 
faithful  receive  crowns  and  palms  (2  Es  248-48).  The 
wearing  of  garlands  and  crowns  on  earth  being  ob- 
noxious to  the  early  Christians  on  account  of  pagan 
associations,  stress  was  therefore  laid  on  the  worth 
of  the  symbolic  heavenly  garland  (a-ritpavos),  and 
especially  the  immortal  crown  of  martyrdom  (Mart, 
of  S.  Polycarp,  17  ;  Tert.  de  Cor.  15,  '  Why  do  you 
condemn  to  a  little  chaplet,  or  a  twined  head-band, 
the  brow  destined  for  a  diadem?').  Lactantius 
(de  Mort.  Pers.  16)  describes  the  martyr's  garland 
of  victory  as  '  an  unfading  crown  laid  up  in  the 
kingdom  of  the  Lord.'  In  Hermas  (Sim.  via.  2)  the 
angel  commands  garlands  of  palms  to  be  brought 
out  for  those  in  whose  rods  he  found  branches  with 
fruit  (cf.  also  Euseb.  HE  v.  1  [Letter  of  the 
Churches  of  Vienne  and  Lyons]).  Such  references  to 
the  crown  of  immortality  or  joy  or  to  the  martyr's 
crown  are  copious  in  early  Christian  literature,  and 
the  symbol  of  the  crown  also  appears  in  Christian 
archaeology.  Hands  stretched  from  heaven  present 
crowns  to  the  martyrs,  or  angels  descend  and  crown 
them  (Didron,  i.  95).  The  crown  by  itself,  or  with 
a  palm  branch  or  other  symbols,  is  also  symbolic  of 
the  eternal  reward  in  heaven  offered  to  the  victor. 

Literature.—  L.  F.  Day,  'The  Crown,  its  Growth  and 
Development,'  Magazine  of  Art,  vol.  xi.  (1883);  W.  Jones, 
Crowns  and  Coronations,  1883 ;  j.  Labarte,  Histoire  des  arts 
industries  au  moyen  dge,  Paris,  1872-5 ;  O.  Stoll,  Das 
Oeschlechtsleben  in  der  Vblkerpsychologie,  Leipzig,  1908, 
p.  452  IT.,  and  other  works  cited  throughout  the  article. 

J.  A.  MacCulloch. 
CROWN  (Greek  and  Roman).— The  words  ari- 
<t>avos,  corona,  and  their  variants  are  used  by 
Greeks  and  Romans  of  circular  ornaments  that 
could  be  placed  on  the  head,  carried  in  the  hand, 
or  hung  on  a  support  as  ottering  or  decoration, 
cither  made  of,  or  artificially  representing,-  or  by 
their  decoration  more  or  less  remotely  suggesting. 


flowers,  leaves,  or  fruits  of  the  field.  The  origin 
of  the  custom  of  wearing  such  ornaments  lay  pro- 
bably in  the  mere  instinct  of  decoration  rather 
than  in  any  notion  of  a  symbolical  significance  in 
the  plants  used.  Such  decorations  are  a  natural 
expression  of  a  joyful  state  of  mind,  and,  as  the 
primitive  worshipper  attributes  to  his  deity  feel- 
ings like  his  own,  they  would  be  considered  accept- 
able to  the  gods.  As  expressing  joy  fulness,  they 
would  in  time  become  customary  or  de  rigueur  on 
all  festal  occasions,  whether  sacred  or  profane. 

1.  The  use  of  crowns  for  religious  purposes  is 
not  mentioned  in  Homer  ;  nevertheless  the  use  of 
sprays  of  foliage  for  dedicatory  purposes  seems 
to  have  prevailed  very  early  in  the  jEgean  ;  at 
Cnossus  was  found  a  spray  of  foliage  made  of  th  in 
gold  plate  and  wire  in  a  flat  bowl  (BSA  viii. 
[1901-02]  25),  and  the  employment  of  natural  sprays 
probably  preceded  that  of  metal  imitations  by  long 
ages.  Now  the  most  convenient  and  decorative 
way  of  carrying  such  sprays,  or  of  attaching  them 
to  cultus-figures,  was  to  twine  them  into  wreaths, 
which  could  be  worn  on  the  head  of  the  wor- 
shipper or  placed  on  the  figure  of  the  deity. 

As  early  as  the  7th  cent,  such  garlands  were  essential  in 
practically  all  sacrifices  (Sappho,  quoted  by  Athen.  xv.  674e). 
In  Aristophanes  (Thesm.  446  If.)  a  widow  who  had  supported  her 
five  children  by  making  wreaths  complains  that  more  than  half 
her  business  has  gone  since  Euripides  persuaded  people  that 
there  are  no  gods. 

Being  part  of  the  furniture  of  cultus,  the  wreath 
imparted  sacredness  to  the  wearer  for  the  time 
being  ;  the  slave  in  Aristophanes  considers  that, 
while  wearing  a  wreath,  he  cannot  be  beaten  by 
his  master  (Plut.  20  f.). 

2.  The  essentially  joyful  associations  of  the 
wreath  are  proved  by  the  fact  that  mourners  did 
not  wear  them  at  funerals.  Xenophon,  while 
sacrificing,  heard  of  the  death  of  his  son  ;  in  sign 
of  mourning  he  took  off  the  crown  that  he  was 
wearing.  But  when  he  heard  that  his  son  had 
died  like  a  brave  man,  he  resumed  his  crown  and 
proceeded  with  the  sacrifice  (Val.  Max.  v.  10).  At 
mournful  ceremonies,  such  as  the  Spartan  Hya- 
cinthia  (Athen.  iv.  139),  the  crown  was  not  worn  ; 
the  Sicyonians  used  flowers  only,  instead  of  wreath.-*, 
in  sacrificing  to  the  Eumenides  at  Titane  (Paus.  11. 
xi.  4).  Where  we  see  wreaths,  fillets,  etc.,  de- 
posited at  a  tomb,  these  are  brought  as  offerings  to 
the  spirit  of  the  deceased,  not  as  tokens  of  mourn- 
ing. Such  wreaths  the  Christians  regarded  us 
essentially  offerings  to  a  deity,  and  therefore  to 
be  condemned  (cf.  Justin  Mart.  Apol.  i.  24  :  '  The 
Christians  do  not  worship  the  same  gods  as  the 
heathen,  or  offer  up  libations  or  incense,  or  bring 
them  crowns  or  sacrifices' ;  so,  too,  Minucius  Felix, 
p.  43,  ed.  Ouzel,  1652,  'nee  mortuos  coronamus'). 
Typical  of  the  Greek  custom  is  the  beautiful 
Attic  lekythos  (JHS  xix.  [1899]  pi.  2),  showing 
a  taenia  tied  round  the  tombstone,  oil-flasks  and 
wine-jugs,  some  with  wreaths  laid  over  them, 
ranged  on  the  steps,  and  a  woman  bringing  a 
tray  full  of  wreaths  and  twnice.  Sometimes  tomb- 
stones were  made  with  a  receptacle  suited  for 
holding  a  crown  of  leaves  (Arch.  Zeit.  1871,  pi. 
42).  The  dead  body  itself  was  crowned  (Karao-ri^uv 
rbv  veKpbv,  Eur.  Phcen.  1632),  as  part  of  the  last 
honours,  in  keeping  with  the  washing  and  anoint- 
ing of  it,  and  dressing  it  for  its  last  journey 
(Lucian,  de  Luctu,  11).  Members  of  some  associa- 
tions, such  as  the  Iobacchi,  were  entitled  to  a 
crown  at  their  death,  provided  out  of  the  common 
funds  (E.  S.  Roberts,  Introd.  to  Gr.  Epigr.  ii. 
Cambridge,  1905,  pp.  91,  160).  Inscriptions  of  the 
Phrygian  Hierapolis  often  mention  the  ampavoiTiKhv , 
a  sum  left  by  the  deceased,  the  interest  on  which 
was  devoted  to  the  annual  renewal  of  wreaths  on 
his  tomb  (Humann,  etc.,  Altertiimer  v.  Hierapolis, 
Berlin,  1898,  p.  129).      At  a  Roman  funeral  there 


CROWN  (Greek  and  Roman) 


343 


were  carried  not  merely  crowns  offered  by  the 
mourners,  but  such  as  the  dead  might  have  won 
by  his  own  deeds.  In  later  times,  the  idea  of 
the  propitiation  of  the  dead  gradually  dying  out, 
the  wreath  came  to  be  laid  on  the  tomb  merely 
as  a  mark  of  honour  ;  but  it  would  be  hard  to 
say  where  the  primitive  significance  of  the  usage 
merged  into  tne  modern.  By  far  the  greater 
number  of  the  crowns  actually  preserved  come 
from  tombs  ;  but  this  is  only  because  the  conditions 
in  tombs  are  more  favourable  than  elsewhere  for 
the  preservation  of  them,  as  of  other  antiquities. 

3.  In  ritual  the  use  of  wreaths  was  manifold. 
They  might  be  used,  as  tcenice  were  used,  to 
decorate  the  image  of  the  god  (see  Schreiber- 
Anderson,  Atlas  of  Classical  Antiquities,  London, 
1894,  xiv.  3).  They  could  be  worn  by  those  who 
performed  the  sacrifice.  They  could  be  offered  up 
(Daremberg-Saglio,  fig.  1984).  They  could  be  used 
to  decorate  the  victims  (Lucian,  de  Sacr.  12) ;  thus 
was  Iphigenia  decorated  (Eur.  Iph.  in  Aul.  1477). 
The  garlands  brought  by  the  priest  of  Zeus  at 
Lystra  to  Barnabas  and  Paul  (Ac  14ls)  were  either 
offerings  to  them  or  decorations  for  the  oxen  which 
he  proposed  to  sacrifice.  Garlands  were  used  to 
decorate  the  shrine,  the  altar,  sacred  trees,  and  all 
sorts  of  instruments  and  vessels  employed.  The 
whole  scene  was  thus  made  at  once  cheerful  and 
solemn,  the  objects  so  adorned  being  brought  into 
intimate  relation  with  the  god.  Woollen  fillets 
served  the  same  purpose,  whether  made  up  into  cir- 
cular form,  or  merely  hung  on  the  victim  or  object, 
or  used  to  attach  it  to  the  figure  of  the  deity. 

The  lover's  practice  of  hanging  garlands  on  the  door  of  the 
object  of  his  affections  is  explained  by  Athenaaus  (xv.  670d)  as 
inspired  by  his  desire  either  to  honour  the  beloved  one  (just  as 
the  doors  of  temples  were  garlanded),  or  to  honour  Eros  (the 
beloved  being  regarded  as  his  image,  and  the  house  therefore  as 
his  temple),  or,  having  been  robbed  of  the  ornament  of  his  soul, 
to  give  to  the  robber  his  body's  ornament  in  addition.  In  specu- 
lations such  as  these  we  see  the  idea  that  these  garlands  were, 
at  any  rate,  a  semi-religious  kind  of  offering. 

Probably  the  most  important  crowns  from  a 
ritual  point  of  view  were  the  '  priestly  coronets ' 
(cf .  above,  p.  339b)  worn  by  the  officiating  persons, 
"?7betl'.Br  professional  priests  or  not.  When  the 
crowns  were  made  of  flowers  or  leaves,  these  were 
usually  of  the  kind  sacred  to  the  deity  served, 
although  in  a  very  great  number  of  cases  the  plant 
used  seems  to  have  been  laurel.  This  may  have 
been  owing  to  its  purifying  property,  although  in 
many  monuments  the  appearance  of  laurel  may  be 
due  to  defective  representation.  The  wreaths 
worn  by  priests  were  sometimes,  especially  in 
later  days,  decorated  with  medallions  appropriate 
to  the  cult.  A  priest  of  Cybele  (relief  in  Capitoline 
Museum  [Baumeister,  Denkm.,  Munich,  1885-88,  p. 
801  J)  wears  on  a  laurel  wreath  three  medallions  re- 
presenting theldsean  Zeus,  Attis,  and  another  deity. 
Domitian,  when  presiding  at  the  Capitoline  Games, 
wore  a  crown  decorated  with  images  of  the  Capi- 
toline triad — Juppiter,  Juno,  and  Minerva ;  tne 
flamen  dialis  and  the  high  priest  of  the  Flavian 
dynasty,  who  supported  him,  had  crowns  also 
containing  the  image  of  the  Emperor  himself 
(Sueton.  Domit.  4).  Recent  discoveries  have 
further  illustrated  this  practice.  The  crowns  worn 
by  high  priests  of  the  Imperial  cultus  were  not 
merely  of  bronze  but  of  even  more  precious  metal, 
elaborately  decorated  with  busts  of  the  Emperors. 
In  Epictetus  (i.  19)  the  prospective  priest  of  the 
Augustan  cult  says,  '  I  shall  wear  a  golden  crown  ' ; 
ami  Tertullian  speaks  of  the  golden  crowns  of  the 
provincial  priests  (de  Idol.  18,  with  Oehler's  note). 
Busts  of  such  priests,  and  an  actual  bronze  crown 
from  Ephesus,  as  well  as  representations  of  such 
crowns  on  coins  of  Tarsus,  make  this  clear,  and 
throw  light  on  such  a  title  as  lepeils  two  Itflaaruv 
tai  (TTftf>ai,770dpos  tou  (nj/AiravTos  auruif   o'Ckov  (Jahres- 


hefte  d.  Oest.  Arch.  Inst.  ii.  245  f.).  Another 
peculiar  form  of  ritual  crown  is  the  '  archieratic  ' 
crown  shown  on  certain  coins  of  Syrian  Antioch 
(Brit.  Mus.  Catal.  Coins,  'Galatia,'  etc.,  p.  167). 

So  essential  was  the  crown  in  the  cult  that  Xa/SeiV 
(avad^aadai,  etc.)  rbv  rod  0eou  urttpavov  is  equivalent 
to  assuming  the  priesthood  (Dittenberger,  Orientis 
Grmci  Inscriptions  Selectee,  vol.  ii.,  Leipzig, 
1905,  no.  767,  note  14),  and  aretpavrftptipoi  include 
all  professional  priests  and  all  magistrates  who  in 
virtue  of  their  office  take  part  in  public  rites  (ib. 
332,  note  24).  The  right  to  wear  a  crown  at  all 
public  festivals  is  expressly  included  in  the  privi- 
leges of  the  priest  of  Poseidon  Heliconius  at 
Sinope  ((rrttpavos  4v  curaai  roh  ay&atv  [Michel,  Hecueil, 
Brussels,  1S96-1900,  p.  734]).  Such  official  crowns 
are  to  be  distinguished  from  those  awarded  to 
priestly  officials  by  their  grateful  fellow-citizens  on 
their  retirement  from  office  or  even  after  their  death 
(Dittenberger,  op.  cit.  470).  These  are  analogous 
to  the  crowns  awarded  to  other  officials. 

4.  The  wearing  of  crowns  by  deities  is  closely 
connected,  as  we  have  seen,  with  the  custom  of 
offering  crowns  to  them  at  sacrifices.  When  special 
plants  were  associated  with  certain  deities,  a  wreath 
of  such  a  plant  was  a  natural  attribute  and  a 
convenient  means  of  identification,  although  the 
latter  feature  would  appeal  less  to  the  ancient 
worshipper  than  to  the  modern  archaeologist.  The 
associations  of  vegetable  crowns  are  in  many  cases 
quite  clear.  Demeter  and  Persephone  wear  barley  ; 
the  Dodonaean  Zeus  wears  oak  ;  Apollo  has  laurel ; 
Athene,  olive  (which  she  wears  as  a  rule  round 
her  helmet) ;  Aphrodite,  myrtle  ;  Heracles,  poplar 
or  styrax  ;  Dionysus  and  his  train  wear  ivy 
(seldom,  if  ever,  vine-leaves) ;  Poseidon  on  coins 
struck  by  Antigonus  Gonatas  or  Doson,  and  on  a 
rare  coin  of  Aradus  of  174  B.C.  (Brit.  Mus.  Catal. 
Coins,  '  Phoenicia,'  pi.  iii.  18),  has  a  curious  marine 
plant  ( Fucus  vesiculosus  ?) ;  a  bust  from  Puteoli  re- 
presenting a  local  water-deity  is  crowned  with  grapes 
and  vine-leaves  (Roscher,  Lex.  i.  1686).  But  these 
appropriations  are  not  exclusive  :  Zeus,  for  instance, 
is  usually  laureate ;  as  we  have  already  seen, 
the  laurel  seems  to  have  been  the  plant  most 
commonly  used  for  wreaths.  Various  deities  are 
represented  in  Greek  art  wearing  crowns  of  a  more 
elaborate  kind.  That  of  the  Hera  of  Polycleitus 
at  Argos  was  decorated  with  figures  of  the  Graces 
and  Seasons,  probably  in  high  relief  ;  and  on  coins 
(of  Argos,  Elis,  Croton,  etc.)  and  other  works  of 
art  Hera  is  usually  shown  wearing  a  somewhat 
elaborate  crown  with  floral  designs  in  relief.  On 
coins  of  Mallus,  Cronus  wears  a  metal  diadem  ; 
and  Cybele  is  commonly  represented  as  City- 
goddess  wearing  a  walled  crown  (see  City).  The 
Cyprian  Aphrodite,  in  statues,  terra-cottas,  and 
coins  of  Cyprus,  wears  a  richly  decorated  crown, 
obviously  meant  to  be  of  metal ;  on  some  coins  of 
Salanvis  and  on  a  stone  head  from  Dali  she  has  a 
peculiar  crown  made  of  semicircular  plates  (Brit. 
Mus.  Catal.  Coins,  '  Cyprus,'  p.  cxi).  Often  she 
seems  to  be  identified  with  the  City  (ib.).  At 
Paphos  she  wears  a  combination  of  the  Oriental 
polos,  decorated  with  palmettes,  and  the  walled 
crown  (ib.  pi.  xxii.  10).  On  some  Cypriote  terra- 
cottas we  also  find  a  decoration  of  palmettes  or 
sphinxes  (Brit.  Mus.  Catal.,  'Terra-cottas,'  A  275). 
These  rich  crowns  are  characteristic  of  the  Oriental 
element  in  her  cult ;  nevertheless  the  ordinary 
Greek  Aphrodite  often  wears  an  elaborate  metal 
crown,  and  sometimes,  '  though  descended  from  the 
early  polos  of  the  queen-goddesses,  it  is  in  form 
curiously  like  a  modern  royal  crown'  (JHS  xxv. 
[1905]  78).  A  variety  of  the  metal  ortcpavos  worn  by 
various  goddesses  is  known  as  the  arecpivij ;  it  rises 
to  a  point  in  front,  and  narrows  as  it  passes  to 
the  back  of  the  head,  which  it  does  not  completely 


344 


CEOWN  (Greek  and  Roman) 


surround.  One  of  the  most  widely  distributed 
forms  of  crown  in  art  is  the  crown  of  rays,  which, 
like  the  nimbus,  represents  the  divine  light  eman- 
ating from  the  persons  of  deities  or  heroes.  But 
such  a  halo  was  probably  not  represented  by  a 
concrete  crown  until  comparatively  late  times. 

5.  The  giving  of  crowns  as  prizes  probably  had  a 
religious  origin.  The  material  rewards  ottered  in 
heroic  times  seem  to  have  been  replaced  at  a  fairly 
early  date — in  the  6th  cent,  at  latest — by  crowns 
of  leaves,  etc.  (Paus.  x.  vii.  3,  of  the  Pythia  ;  Marin. 
Par.  38  =  588  B.C.  ;  note  that  the  palm,  being  un- 
suitable for  a  crown,  was  carried  as  a  branch). 
The  festivals  at  which  crowns  were  given  were 
under  the  special  patronage  of  the  local  deity,  and 
the  material  for  the  crown  would  be  gathered  from 
the  local  sacred  enclosure,  although  in  the  case  of 
the  Pythia  the  laurel  was  brought  all  the  way 
from  Tempe  (Frazer  on  Paus.  X.  vii.  8).  It  was  only 
in  later  days  that  the  crown  of  foliage — olive, 
laurel,  pine,  etc. — was  replaced  by  a  metal  crown, 
so  that  in  the  2nd  and  3rd  cents,  of  our  era  the 
decoration  carried  by  the  victorious  athlete  was  an 
elaborate  structure  more  like  an  urn  without  a 
bottom  than  anything  else  (Dressel  in  CIL  xv.  2, 
no.  7045).  The  crowns  thus  won  were  often  dedi- 
cated in  the  temple ;  in  the  case  of  a  tie,  which 
was  for  this  reason  called  lepd,  the  crown  remained 
the  property  of  the  god  (JHS  xxv.  17  f.).  But  the 
rewards  might  also  be  carried  away  by  the  winners, 
and  the  entry  of  such  a  winner  into  his  native  city 
was  a  solemn  function,  as  when  Pausimachus 
brought  home  to  the  Carian  Antioch  the  crown  of 
the  Delphic  Soteria  (Dittenberger,  Or.  Gr.  Inscr. 
234.  31).  At  Elaea  in  Asia  Minor,  when  Attalus 
III.  (138-133  B.C.)  was  received  in  state  by  the 
citizens,  he  was  met  by  all  the  state  officials  and 
by  the  winners  in  sacred  festivals  carrying  their 
crowns  with  them  (ib.  332.  34). 

6.  From  the  use  of  crowns  as  rewards  in  actual 
athletic  and  other  contests,  such  as  musical  or 
literary  (an  ordinary  term  for  being  victorious  with 
a  tragedy  is  <rTe<pavod<rdai,  cf.  Bacchylides,  frag.  33, 
Jebb),  is  probably  derived  their  use  as  marks  of 
honour  generally.  They  could  be  given  as  rewards 
for  good  service  to  the  community ;  and  decrees 
of  Greek  communities  rewarding  their  officials  or 
private  members  are  among  the  commonest  of  ex- 
tant official  documents. 

Thus  the  Athenian  council  and  people  in  151  B.C.  vote  a 
laurel  crown  to  Protagoras  the  priest  of  Asklepios  for  his 
services  to  the  shrine  (Michel,  689) ;  at  Lissa  in  Asia  Minor  in 
the  3rd  cent.  B.C.  a  similar  crown  is  voted  to  Menekrates 
for  his  general  (rood  services  to  the  community  (Ditten- 
berger, 57) ;  at  Ptolemais  in  Egypt  the  artists  of  the  gild  of 
Dionysus  and  the  Brother  Gods  grant  a  crown  of  ivy,  to  be 
given  at  the  Dioaysia,  to  their  life-president  Dionysius,  son  of 
Musaeus  (ib.  50).  At  Delphi  services  to  the  shrine  and  State 
are  rewarded  with  'a  crown  of  laurel  from  the  god's  grove,  ac- 
cording to  the  traditional  Delphic  custom '  (ib.  345  ;  Sylloge  2, 
Leipz.  189S,  p.  216).  An  Athenian  decree  of  100  B.C.  records  the 
crowns  conferred  on  the  ephebi  and  their  kosmetes  by  the 
Council  and  Assembly,  and  by  the  Salaminian  demos,  and  on 
their  kosmetes  by  the  ephebi  (Roberts,  Epigr.  ii.  65).  A  list  of 
the  eighteen  crowns  (of  gold  or  laurel)  conferred  on  Cassander, 
son  of  Menestheus,  was  inscribed  on  a  marble  slab  in  the  temple 
of  Apollo  Smintheus  in  the  Troad  (Michel,  Rec.  1312). 

Such  honorific  crowns  were  presented  not  merely 
to  individuals  or  associations,  but  to  a  whole  people 
or  their  official  representatives  ;  thus  the  Athenian 
people  received  crowns  from  various  States,  such 
as  Paros,  Andros,  Cnossus,  etc.  (IG  ii.  700,  701). 
The  mural,  rostral,  and  civic  crowns  of  the  Romans 
were  special  developments  of  the  crown  as  re- 
ward for  services  to 'the  State. 

7.  From  employing  the  crown  as  a  reward,  it 
was  but  a  step  to  presenting  it  as  tribute,  often 
with  a  sense  of  favours  to  come. 

Strato,  son  of  Gerostratus,  king  of  the  Phoenician  Arvad, 
went  to  meet  Alexander  the  Great  and  crowned  him  with  a 
golden  crown,  at  the  same  time  lajing  his  father's  dominions  at 
the  conqueror's  feet  (Arr.  Anab.  ii.  13.  8).  Machares,  ,son  of 
Mithradates.  offered  a  crown  to  Lucullus  worth  1000  gold  pieces. 


begging  for  an  alliance  with  Rome  (Plut.  Lucvll.  24).  Simon 
the  Hasmonjean  sent  a  golden  crown  and  palm  as  tribute  to 
Demetrius  of  Syria  (1  Mac  133?).  Plutarch  (Mm.  Paul.  34)  Bays 
that  at  the  triumph  of  jEmilius  Paullus  were  carried  400 
golden  crowns  which  the  conquered  States  had  sent  to  him  as 
the  prize  of  his  victory. 

Thus  the  crown  became  the  symbol  of  victory, 
even  more  than  the  palm-branch.  It  is  the  most 
common  attribute  of  Victory  in  art ;  and  Christi- 
anity, in  spite  of  certain  protests  (cf.  Tert.  de  Cor.), 
adopted  it  whole-heartedly  as  a  symbol  of  spiritual 
victory. 

8.  The  crowns  received  as  civic  rewards  or 
honours  were,  like  athletic  decorations,  frequently 
dedicated  at  shrines  (Rouse,  Gr.  Vot.  Offerings, 
Camb.  1902,  p.  266).  At  Athens  those  conferred  by 
a  foreign  State  had  to  be  dedicated  in  the  Par- 
thenon, perhaps  to  prevent  C/Spis  (^Eschin.  in  Cles. 
46).  Crowns  of  less  importance  were  usually  kept 
by  the  recipients.  When  the  semi  -  barbarian 
princes  Spartocus  and  Pserisades  of  Bosporus  were 
voted  golden  crowns  by  the  Athenians,  the  decree 
laid  down  the  very  form  of  words  which  was  to  be 
inscribed  on  the  crown  when  dedicated  (Hicks,  Gr. 
Hist.  Inscr.*,  Oxf.  1901,  p.  140).  To  judge  by  the 
lists  in  inscriptions,  vast  quantities  of  such  crowns 
must  have  been  in  the  temples.  Sometimes  the 
lists  record  the  terms  of  the  dedication  ;  e.g.  from 
the  Delian  treasure-list  (Dittenberger,  Syll.2  5S8. 
102)  a  golden  laurel-crown  bearing  the  inscrip- 
tion '  Publius  son  of  Publius  Cornelius  consul  of 
the  Romans'  {i.e.  Scipio  Africanus,  who  probably 
made  the  dedication  in  194  B.C.). 

9.  The  crown,  being  part  of  the  apparatus  of 
religious  service,  was  worn  not  only  at  sacrifices, 
but  also  at  other  ceremonies,  such  as  musical  or 
literary  contests,  which  were  under  the  patronage 
of  a  deity.  Such  were  the  sacred  contests  at 
which  Pliny  says  it  was  originally  the  custom  to 
wear  crowns  of  natural  leaves  (HN  xxi.  4),  the 
use  of  crowns  variegated  with  flowers  being  later, 
and  the  use  of  artificial  crowns  later  still.  De- 
mosthenes {in  Mid.  16)  describes  golden  crowns 
among  the  '  sacred  vestments '  worn  by  the  chorus 
which  he  provided  at  the  Dionysia.  Musicians 
are  often  represented  wearing  crowns  (Schreiber- 
Anderson,  Atlas,  vii.  9,  lxxviii.  7 ;  Baumeister, 
Denkm.,  fig.  591).  The  use  of  crowns  at  bridals 
was  undoubtedly  religious,  and  therefore  con- 
demned by  Tertullian  (de  Cor.  13).  It  is  the 
bridal  crown  that  is  carried  or  worn  by  Eros  and 
Hymenasus.  Religious  also  must  have  been  the 
origin  of  the  decoration  hung  outeide  the  house- 
door  at  Athens  after  the  birth  of  a  child  :  an  olive- 
wreath  for  a  boy,  a  woollen  fillet  for  a  girl.  On 
the  other  hand,  we  may  well  hesitate  to  see  any 
direct  religious  significance  in  the  use  of  crowns  at 
banquets.  They  were  connected  especially  with 
drinking,  and  were  probably  first  used  to  promote 
cheerfulness.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  the 
theory  that  they  mitigated  headache  (an  ancient 
theory  mentioned  by  Aristotle  ap.  Athen.  xv.  674) 
was  more  than  make-believe.  Whatever  may 
have  been  the  original  significance  of  the  use  of 
crowns  on  such  occasions,  it  was  doubtless  included 
in  the  general  condemnation  of  the  custom  of 
wearing  crowns  on  the  head  which  was  uttered  by 
more  than  one  Christian  apologist  (Minucius  Felix, 
Tertullian).  The  Christians  used  flowers  both 
loose  and  in  garlands,  but  not  on  their  heads, 
doubtless  because  the  wearing  of  them  was  so 
intimately  associated  with  pagan  cultus. 

10.  The  diadem  worn  by  monarchs,  though  pos- 
sibly its  resemblance  to  the  twnia  with  which  the 
heads  of  deities  were  often  adorned  may  have 
given  it  a  suggestion  of  Divine  significance,  was 
probably  not  religious  in  origin.  In  any  case  it 
was  adopted  by  Alexander  the  Great  from  the 
Persian  king,  so  that  its  original  significance  must 


CRUSADES 


345 


be  sought  in  the  East.  The  plain  round  decoration 
seen,  e.g.,  on  theportrait-head  in  the  Louvre  called 
Antiocims  the  Great  (Bevan,  House  of  Seleucus, 
Lond.  1902,  frontisp.),  or  on  heads  of  Seleucus  and 
Philetserus  on  early  Pergamene  coins,  is  probably 
not  a  diadem,  but  a  sacred  fillet.  The  laurel 
crown  is  rarely,  if  ever,  represented  on  the  por- 
traits of  living  Greek  kings.  It  is  worn  by  the 
dead  and  divinized  Philetierus,  sometimes  inter- 
twined with  a  diadem,  on  coins  of  Pergamnm. 
It  was  worn  by  Julius  Caesar  and  by  practically 
all  the  Emperors  from  Augustus  onwards,  while, 
until  the  time  of  Constantine,  they  eschewed  the 
royal  diadem.  It  was  a  symbol,  despite  its  origin, 
of  honour,  but  not  of  divinity.  Even  the  crown 
that  is  being  placed  on  the  head  of  Augustus  by  a 
female  figure,  herself  wearing  a  walled  crown  and 
veil,  on  the  famous  Vienna  cameo  (A.  Furtwangler, 
Ant.  Gemmen,  1900,  pi.  56)  representing  the  Em- 
peror's apotheosis,  is  a  sign  of  honour  merely,  not 
of  divinization.  This  crown  is  of  oak  leaves.  When 
the  early  Emperors  wished  to  express  divinity  by  a 
crown,  it  took  the  radiate  form.  The  same  thing 
could  be  expressed  by  placing  a  star  over  the 
Emperor's  head.  On  coins  struck  after  his  death, 
Divus  Augustus  is  frequently  represented  wear' 
a  crown  of  rays.  The  use  by  a  king  of  this  radiate 
crown,  properly  the  head-dress  of  the  sun-god,  is 
found  on  coins  representing  Ptolemy  III.  of  Egypt 
(247-222  B.C.).  In  Syria  it  appears  first  on  coins 
struck  by  Antiochus  Epiphanes  (175-164  B.C.), 
who  expressed  his  godhead  thus,  as  well  as  by 
placing  a  star  over  his  head.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether  this  radiation,  so  far,  represents  any  con- 
crete crown,  and  not  merely  an  imaginary  halo. 
Nero  was  the  first  living  Roman  Emperor  to  wear 
it,  so  far  as  the  evidence  of  coins  goes.  But  it  was 
not  until  the  time  of  Caracalla,  who  introduced  a 
silver  coin  called  the  antoninianus,  on  which  the 
Emperor's  head  is  radiate,  that  the  radiate  crown 
became  common  in  representations  of  monarchs. 
It  was  apparently  not  worn  by  the  Emperors  after 
Constantine  the  Great,  obviously  because  of  its 
religious  significance. 

Literatorb.— Pliny,  UN  xxi.  Iff.;  Athenaeus,  xv.  671  ff. ; 
Tertullian,  de  Corona  Militis;  Stephani,  'Nimbus  u.  Strahlen- 
kranz,'  in  Mem.  de  VAcad.  des  Sciences  de  St.-Petersbourg, 
6th  ser.  vol.  ix.  (1859);  Egger-Fournier,  art.  'Corona,'  in 
Dareniberg-Saglio's  Diet,  des  antiquity's,  Paris,  1386-90;  Saglio, 
art.  '  Diadema,'  ib. ;  Mau,  art.  '  Diadema,'  in  Pauly-Wissowa's 
RE  v.  303 f. ;  Stengel  and  Oehmichen,  'Die  griech.  Kultus- 
altertiimer'2,  in  Iwan  v.  Miiller's  Handbuch,  v.  3  (Munich,  1890), 

?.  98  ;  Hill, '  Priesterdiademe,'  in  Jahreshefte  des  Oesterr.  Arch, 
nst.  ii.  (Vienna,  1900)  245fl.  (J.  p\  HlLL. 

CRUCIFIX.— See  Symbols. 

CRUCIFIXION.— See  Crimes  and  Punish- 
ments. 

CRUELTY.— See  Humanitarianism. 

CRUSADES.— I.  Causes  of  the  Crusades. 
— The  Crusades  may  be  defined  as  the  technical 
name  given  to  certain  special  events  in  the  long 
struggle  between  the  Muslim  and  the  Christian. 
For  the  immediate  or  special  causes  of  any  par- 
ticular Crusade,  see  below.  Of  general  causes, 
whether  political  or  religious  and  ethical,  the 
following  may  be  noted. 

I.  The  decay  of  the  Eastern  Empire.— The 
reader  even  of  liberal  culture  is  often  ignorant  of 
the  fortunes  of  the  great  Empire  that  continued  at 
Constantinople  the  name  and  authority  of  Rome. 
He  fails,  therefore,  to  recognize  the  debt  which 
the  common  civilization  and  Christianity  of  Europe 
owe  to  it  (cf.  F.  Harrison,  Meaning  of  History, 
1894,  chs.  11  and  12).  Charles  Martel  saved  the 
West  at  Tours  (Oct.  732)  from  the  Saracen  in- 
vaders, but  his   efiorts  would  have  been  fruitless 


had  not  Constantinople  lor  centuries  presented  a 
secure  barrier  against  all  attacks  from  the  side  of 
Asia.  The  first  shock  of  Muslim  conquest  had 
found  her  unprepared  (first  Saracen  siege  <*f  Con- 
stantinople, 674-6  ;  2nd  siege,  716-8  ;  deliverance 
chiefly  through  '  Greek  fire ') ;  but  under  the  great 
Emperor  Leo  the  Syrian  (718,  often  mistakenly 
called  the  Isaurian)  and  his  son  Constantine  v. 
(740),  the  Eastern  Empire  recovered  her  strength 
(J.  B.  Bury,  Later  Roman  Empire,  London,  1889, 
vol.  ii.  bk.  6).  As  part  of  his  general  programme 
for  driving  back  the  Saracens,  Leo  endeavoured  to 
abolish  the  'eikons,'  and  tried  to  develop  a  strong 
yeomanry  by  reforming  the  land  laws  and  emanci- 
pating the  serfs.  As  a  result,  the  Basilian  dynasty 
(867-1057)  regained  much  lost  territory  in  both 
Asia  and  Europe,  through  the  conquests  especially 
of  John  Zimisces  (963-75  ;  Antioch  recovered,  969). 

But,  with  the  close  of  the  11th  cent.,  the  powers 
of  resistance  of  the  Eastern  Empire  were  becoming 
exhausted.  The  Iconoclastic  controversy  and, 
above  all,  centuries  of  pernicious  land  laws  had 
sapped  her  vitality.  The  provinces  of  Asia  Minor 
consisted  of  vast  domains  cuiu.vats<i  b_  serfs  under 
absentee  landlords  at  Constantinople,  or  belonging 
to  ecclesiastical  corporations  exempt  from  military 
burdens.  The  result  was  inevitable.  One  by  one 
the  provinces  which  had  hitherto  stood  out  against 
the  Muslim  succumbed.  The  respite  which  Con- 
stantinople had  provided  had  been  invaluable.  The 
Greek  Empire  had  saved  Europe  in  her  hour  of 
weakness.  But  now  missionaries  had  subdued  the 
barbarians,  and  under  Charles  the  Great  had  welded 
Europe,  in  idea  at  least,  into  one  great  Christian 
commonwealth,  under  one  leader  of  the  faithful 
at  Rome  (Xmas  Day,  800).  Whatever  its  internal 
weakness,  the  idea  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire 
was  of  tremendous  power  for  dealing  with  a  non- 
Christian  foe.  The  conflict  between  Crescent  and 
Cross  was  bound  to  be  renewed  under  a  new  form, 
with  a  new  champion  of  Christendom,  and  in  a 
wider  arena,  no  longer  as  a  frontier  war,  but  one  of 
inter-continental  character.  Thus  the  Crusades 
(upon  the  seven  or  nine  divisions  of  which  stress 
should  not  be  laid)  must  be  regarded  as  a  new  form 
of  the  old  struggle.  A  clear  recognition  of  this 
fact,  and  not  the  belief  once  fashionable  that  the 
Crusades  were  a  sort  of  12th  cent,  outbreak  of 
madness  or  chivalry,  lies  at  the  root  of  a  right 
understanding  of  history. 

2.  The  rise  of  the  Seljuk  Turks. — In  the  9th  and 
10th  cents,  the  powers  of  resistance  of  Constanti- 
nople had  been  assisted  by  the  disunion  of  the 
Muslim.  There  were  rival  Khalifates  of  East  and 
West  (Western  Khalifate  inaugurated  by  'Abd 
al-Rahman  in.  in  929)  ;  the  struggles  of  Sunnites 
and  Shi'ites  (gq.v.),  and  of  the  dynasties  and  sub- 
dynasties  of  Umayyads,  'Abbasids,  Fatimids,  Idri- 
sids,  etc.  (see,  for  complete  lists,  S.  Lane-Poole, 
Mahommedan  Dynasties,  1894) ;  and  the  revolt  of 
the  '  Carmatians '  (q.v.)  at  Kufa  under  Hamdan 
ibn  Ashat  or  Qarmat,  and  the  pillage  of  Mecca  by 
these  Mahdists  in  929.  But,  with  the  rapid  rise 
of  the  Seljuk  Turks,  all  this  was  changed,  and 
Constantinople  was  separated  from  the  Muslim 
merely  by  the  Dardanelles,  and  threatened  by  a 
Turkish  fleet  constructed  by  Greek  captives.  So, 
in  the  spring  of  1088,  Alexius  Comnenus  in  a 
letter  (Recueil,  iv.  131  ff. ;  or,  better,  Hagenmeyer, 
Kreuzzugsbriefe,  Innsbruck,  1901,  p.  12)  to  Robert 
of  Flanders  besought  the  aid  of  the  Latins.1 

In  1039  the  Turkomans  defeated  Mas'ud,  the  Ghaznavid,  at 
Damghan,  subdued  Persia,  and  elected  as  their  head  Abu- 
Talib-Tughril  Beg,  the  grandson  of  Seljuk  b.  Yakak  of  Samarkand 

1  For  the  controversies  over  the  genuineness  of  this  letter,  see 
Bury's  Gibbon,  vi.  251  n.,  or,  more  fully,  Hagenmeyer,  op.  cit. 
pp.  10-44.  The  date  is  from  Hagenmeyer,  whose  defence  of  ite 
genuineness  (against  P.  E.  D.  Riant,  Alex.  Com.  Ep.  Spuria 
Geneva,  1879)  may  be  accepted. 


346 


CRUSADES 


(a  pervert,  possibly,  from  Christianity  to  Islam).  In  1055, 
through  his  deliverance  of  Baghdad  from  the  Buyids,  Tughril 
was  constituted  '  sultan '  or  captain  of  the  bod}  guard  of  the 
'Abbasid  Khalifa.  Hie  son  Alp  Arslan  (1063-72)  conquered  and 
ruined  the  Nestorian  kingdom  of  Armenia  (1064)  and  Georgia, 
and  after  three  campaigns  defeated  and  captured  the  Greek 
Emperor  Romanus  Diogenes,  at  Manzikert  near  Lake  Van  (26th 
Aug.  1071) j1  and,  as  a  result  of  the  consequent  weakness  and 
dissensions,  the  Seljuk  Sulaiman  won  Anatolia  and  Antioch, 
the  seat  of  the  Seljukian  dynasty  of  Rum  being  established  at 
Nicffla  (1077-1300).  Moreover,  in  1070-1,  Jerusalem  had  been 
taken  by  a  lieutenant  of  Malik  Shah,  Atsiz  ibn  Auk  the 
Khwarizmian,  from  the  mild  rule  of  the  Fafimid  Khalifs  of 
Egypt,  and  its  Government  handed  over  to  the  exactions  of 
the  Turkoman  Ortuk  b.  Aksab  (see  below).2  The  Ortukids 
were  expelled  26th  Aug.  109S  by  the  Fatimids,  and  retired  to 
Edessa.3 

3.  The  pilgrims  and  the  Holy  Places. — The 
influence  of  the  Holy  Places  upon  the  Middle  Ages 
was  not  due  to  historic — the  historic  sense  was  not 
yet  born — hut  to  religious  and  psychological  senti- 
ment. The  Middle  Ages  were  powerless  to  realize 
an  idea  without  turning  it  into  the  concrete.  Of 
Christ  and  His  saints  men  must  have  visible  images. 
By  a  sort  of  logical  inversion  they  went  one  step 
further.  Where  the  image  was,  there  was  the 
spirit.  Thus  the  image,  or  material  realization, 
became  the  vehicle  of  grace,  possessing  not  only 
sanctity  but  life,  while  the  spiritual  was  constantly 
assuming  form  and  colour.  Hence,  to  the  mediaeval 
mind  the  Holy  Places  were  far  more  than  religious 
or  historical  memorials.  They  were  themselves 
sacramental — an  essential  part  of  the  spiritual 
provision  of  the  age.  The  early  origin  of  pil- 
grimages to  Jerusalem  is  seen  in  the  journey  of 
Helena  in  326,  the  foundation  by  her  son  Con- 
stantine  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre 
(Socrates,  HE  i.  17 ;  Euseb.  Vit.  Const,  iii.  30, 
34-40),  and  the  record  in  333  of  the  Bordeaux 
pilgrim  (see  Itin.  Anon.  Burdigalense,  in  CSEL 
xxxix.  Iff.;  Eng.  tr.,  A.  Stewart  [London,  1887]). 
On  the  conquest  of  Jerusalem  by  Omar  (638),  the 
Christians  had  been  assured  of  their  religion  ;  a 
quarter  was  assigned  to  the  patriarch  and  his 
people ;  and  the  Holy  Places  were  left  in  their 
hands.  The  'Abbasid  Khalif  Hanin  al-Rashid 
even  presented  Charles  the  Great  (23rd  Dec.  800) 
with  the  keys  of  the  Sepulchre  (Eginhard,  de  Vita 
Carol.  Mag.  ch.  16).  On  Jerusalem  lapsing  to  the 
Fatimid  Khalifs  of  Egypt  (969-1076),  special  con- 
cessions were  granted  to  the  republic  of  Amain  for 
the  transport  of  pilgrims.  But  the  era  of  tolerance 
was  changed  when  the  famous  H^kim  (al-Hakim 
Abu- All  al-Mansur),  the  Fatimid  Khalif  (996-1020), 
burnt  the  Church  of  the  Resurrection  and  destroyed 
the  Holy  Sepulchre  (27th  Sept.  1010 ;  for  date,  see 
Rohricht,  op.  cit.  9  n. ).  On  his  assumption  of 
divinity  (1017),  in  his  new  hatred  of  the  Muslim, 
al-IJakim  once  more  granted  toleration,  and  the 
pilgrimages  recommenced,  greatly  stimulated  by 
the  new  outburst  of  piety  in  Europe  which  marked 
the  11th  cent.,  and  by  the  re-opening  (see  Rohricht, 
in  Hist.  2'asckenbuch,  Leipzig,  1875,  v.  5),  through 
the  conversion  of  Stephen  of  Hungary  (997-1038), 
of  the  old  land-route  which  was  followed  as  early 
as  333  by  the  Bordeaux  pilgrim.  But  under  the 
rule  of  Ortuk  the  cruelties  inflicted  upon,  and  the 
exactions  from,  pilgrims,  hitherto  fixed  at  two 
gold  pieces  a  head,  became  excessive  (William  of 
Tyre,  Hist.  i.  ch.  10 ;  Urban  II.  at  Clermont  in 
Ouibert,  Gesta  Dei  per  Francos,  ii.  4  [Recueil,  iv. 
140]).  Either  a  way  of  redress  must  be  found,  or 
the  pilgrimages  must  cease.4 

4.  The  new  Europe. — The  wrongs  of  previous 

1  For  the  battle,  see  Finfay,  Hist.  Greece,  iii.  32-4  ;  Oman, 
Hist,  of  the  Art  of  War,  217-9. 

2  For  date,  see  Rohricht,  Erst.  Kreuz.,  233  n.,  from  Mujir-al- 
Din's  Hist,  de  Jerusalem,  tr.  Suvaire,  1S76,  p.  69  f. 

3  For  date,  see  Rohricht,  I.e. 

4  There  is  a  comprehensive  study  of  the  German  pilgrims  in 
R.  Rohricht,  Beitrdge  z.  Gesch.  d.  Kreuz.  vol.  ii.;  cf.  also 
P.  E.  D.  Riant,  Expeditions  et  pelerinages  des  Scandinaves  en 
Terre  Sainte,  Paris,  1865-9,  and  H.  Raynaud,  Itintraires  a 
Jerusalem,  Paris,  1877. 


ages,  including  the  desecration  by  al-Hakim,  had 
appealed  to  a  distracted  Europe  in  vain.  But,  by 
the  close  of  the  11th  cent.,  a  new  Europe  had 
arisen,  instinct  with  religious  chivalry,  conscious 
of  its  spiritual  unity,  no  longer  distracted  by 
heathen  Huns  and  Northmen.  By  the  recital  of 
the  wrongs  of  the  pilgrims  '  a  nerve  was  touched 
of  exquisite  feeling  ;  and  the  sensation  vibrated  to 
the  heart  of  Europe '  (Gibbon,  vi.  258).  Politically 
Europe  was  ready.  Gregory  VII.,  as  part  of  his 
immense  plans,  first  conceived  (Dec.  1074)  the  idea 
of  arming  Europe  against  Asia  (Epp.  ii.  31  J,1  and 
the  two  expeditions  of  his  Norman  ally  and  pro- 
tector, Robert  Wiscard — who  had  already  con- 
quered Sicily  from  the  Saracens — into  Greece 
(1081-2,  1084)  might  have  established  as  a  pre- 
liminary step  the  Normans  at  Constantinople,  and 
the  Papal  supremacy  over  the  Eastern  Church, 
but  for  the  death  of  Robert  at  Bundicia  in  Epirus 
(17th  July  1085),  leaving  his  Eastern  dreams  to  his 
son  Bohemond.  The  diversion  of  these  into  the 
Crusade  was  easy  and  natural,  while  in  the  Fourth 
Crusade  we  see  the  reversion  to  Robert's  original 
plan.  Nor  must  we  forget  that,  in  addition  to  the 
religious  motives — to  the  strength  of  which  the 
utmost  importance  should  be  attached — -the  East 
was  to  the  11th  and  12th  cents,  what  the  New 
World  was  to  the  Elizabethan  sailors.  Motives  of 
commerce,  wealth,  adventure,  and  religion  were 
united  (cf.  the  six  camel-loads  of  Tancred's  spoils 
[Alb.  Aq.  vi.  23  ;  Recueil,  iv.  479],  or  the  letter  of 
Hugh  de  Reitaste  [i.e.  Rethel]  boasting  of  the  1500 
marks  rental  he  had  won  [in  Guibert,  Gesta  Dei 
per  Francos,  vii.  38  ;  Recueil,  iv.  254]). 

The  drift  of  the  times  is  clearly  seen  in  the  popularity  of  the 
romance  Vita  Caroli  Magni  et  Rolandi  (ed.  Ciampi,  Florence, 
1822),  assigned  to  John  Tilpinus  or  Turpinus,  Archbishop  of 
Rheima,  773.  In  this  romance,  which  was  accepted  everywhere 
as  history,  Charles  achieves  the  conquest  of  the  Holy  Land. 
Gaston  Paris,  s.v.  'De  Pseudo-Turpino '  (in  Hist.  Poet,  de 
Charl.,  Paris,  1S65  ;  or  enlarged,  1905),  shows  that  the  first  part 
was  composed  in  the  11th  cent,  by  a  Spaniard  ;  the  second  part 
c.  1110  by  a  monk  of  Vienne.  There  is  an  Eng.  metrical  tr.  by 
T.  Rodd,  2  vols.,  1812. 

5.  The  system  of  Penance. — A  powerful  motive 
both  to  the  pilgrimages  to  the  Holy  Places  and  to 
the  consequent  Crusades  may  be  traced  in  the 
current  Penitential  system  of  Europe.  In  the  11th 
and  12th  cents,  this  system  was  in  full  operation. 
We  see  the  effect  when  Urban  II.  at  Clermont 
proclaimed  a  plenary  indulgence  to  all  who  enlisted 
for  the  Crusade  (Mansi,  xx.  827  ;  cf.  Girald.  Camb. 
de  Princip.  Instruct.  238  [ed.  G.  F.  Warner,  in 
Rolls  Series,  1891] ;  see  also  Rohricht,  Erst.  Kreuz. 
21,  n.  5).  To  this  should  be  added  the  temporal 
advantages.  The  cruce  signati  were  freed  from 
arrest  for  debt,  and  from  usury ;  they  were 
guaranteed  justice ;  the  Pope  was  the  guardian 
of  their  wives,  families,  etc.  In  consequence  the 
crusaders  were  a  mixed  company,  debtors  and 
criminals  abounding. 

II.  History  of  the  Seven  Crusades.2— i. 
First  Crusade. — To  the  general  causes  already 
detailed  no  special  cause  need  be  added  save — 
though  very  doubtfully — the  preaching  of  Peter 
the  Hermit. 

Peter  (b.  1053)  of  Amiens  (Guibert,  Gesta  Dei  per  Francos, 
ii.  8),  stirred  by  the  wrongs  he  witnessed  in  1090  and  1094  at 
Jerusalem  (Alb.  Aq.  Hist.  i.  2-4),  on  his  return  to  Europe  is 
said,  according  to  the  well-known  story,  to  have  addressed  the 
Council  of  Bari  and  aroused  Urban  11.  to  a  sense  of  the  need 
of  a  Crusade.  The  last  part  of  this  story,  to  the  doubtful 
character  of  which  von  Sybel  first  drew  attention,  appears 
in  Albert  of  Aachen  (Hist.  i.  5  ;  cf.  Anna  Comnena,  Alex.  x. 
284),  and  is  otherwise  unknown  (cf.  Bernard's  contemptuous 
reference,  Ep.  363.  8).  Thence  it  was  copied  into  the  Chanson 
d'Antioche  of  the  pilgrim  Richard  (a  romance  without  historical 
value,  written  c.  1145 ;  first  ed.  by  A.  P.  Paris,  2  vols.,  184S,  tr. 


1  Cf.  the  letter  of  Sylvester  n.,  Slay  984  {Epistolae  Gerberti 
[ed.  J.  Havet,  Paris,  1889],  p.  22),  which  ib,  however,  of  very 
doubtful  value  and  authenticity. 

2  Divisions  into  seven  or  nine  of  what  was  in  reality  a  con 
tinuous  struggle  are  arbitrary  but  useful. 


CRUSADES 


347 


1862).  Peter  is  not  mentioned  by  Guibert  or  others  as  present 
at  Clermont.  Of  Peter's  preaching  in  Picardy  and  Berry  after 
Clermont  there  is,  however,  little  doubt  (see  Guibert,  op.  cit. 
ii.  8 ;  Anna  Comn.  he),  but  Urban  II.,  a  disciple  of  Gregory  vn., 
would  use  rather  than  follow  his  preaching.  For  Peter,  see  the 
critical  monograph  of  Hagenmeyer,  Peter  der  Eremite  (Leipzig, 
1879),  which  traces  the  genesis  of  the  myth. 

At  the  Council  of  Placentia  (7th  March  1095)  the 
ambassador  of  Alexius  Comnenus  pleaded  the  peril 
of  Constantinople  (Mansi,  xx.  802 ;  Guibert,  op. 
cit.  ii.  1),  but  Urban  II.  postponed  the  decision 
until  after  a  second  Council  at  Clermont  (18th- 
27th  Nov.  1095;  Mansi,  xx.  821  ff.).  There,  amid 
cries  of  *  Deus  vult,'  the  undertaking  was  com- 
menced, a  red  cross  (hence  the  title  '  Crusade ') 
being  sewn  on  the  breast  or  shoulders.1  So  far  as 
the  Muslim  world  was  concerned,  the  times  were 
opportune,  the  great  Seljuk  Empire  of  Malik  Shall 
having  broken  up,  at  his  death  (1092),  into  four 
warring  portions.  Egypt  had  recovered  its  pos- 
sessions, and  in  1096  the  Fatimid  vizier  Aphdal 
conquered  Jerusalem  from  Ortuk.  While  the  main 
expedition  was  preparing,  a  vast  mob,  chiefly  from 
the  Rhine  districts,  under  Peter,  Walter  the  Penni- 
less, and  Walter  de  Poissy,  with  a  goose  at  their 
head  (Alb.  Aq.  i.  30 ;  Guibert,  op.  cit.;  Recueil,  iv. 
251),  after  massacring  (May  1096)  the  Jews  in  Spires 
and  Worms  (Salomo  bar  Simeon,  in  Neubauer  and 
Stern's  Quellen  zur  Gesch.  der  Juden  in  Deutsch., 
Berlin,  1892),  crossed  Hungary,  and,  with  thinned 
numbers,  arrived  at  Constantinople  (30th  July 
1096).  On  crossing  into  Asia,  they  were  over- 
whelmed (21st  Oct.  1096),  near  the  river  Dracon 
and  at  Civitot,  by  Kilij  Arslan,  the  son  and  suc- 
cessor (1092-1106)  of  Sulaiman  (Anna  Comn. 
Alex.  x.  274  ;  there  is  an  excellent  account  of  this 
Crusade  in  Rohricht,  Erst,  Kreuz.  chs.  2,  3,  or  in 
Hagenmeyer,  Peter  d.  Eremite,  chs.  4-6). 

The  main  Crusade  was  under  Godfrey  of  Bouillon, 
Hugh  of  Vermandois,  Robert  of  Normandy,  Robert 
of  Flanders,  Raymond  of  St.  Gilles  and  Toulouse, 
Bohemond,  and  his  nephew  Tancred  (see  lists  in 
Alb.  Aq.  ii.  22.  3),  with  a  vast  host  of  barons,  etc. 
Marching  through  Hungary,  the  various  forces 
converged  on  Constantinople  (Godfrey,  23rd  Dec. 
1097  ;  Bohemond,  c.  10th  April  1097),  and  were 
carried  over  the  Bosporus  by  the  anxious  Greeks. 
After  Alexius  had  secured  their  homage  (Alb.  Aq. 
ii.  16-18,  28)  and  reviewed  the  hosts  (of  whom 
Fulcher  of  Chartres  enumerates  nineteen  nations, 
or  about  60,000  armed  horsemen  [see  Alb.  Aq. 
ii.  41]  plus  a  vast  mob  of  pilgrims  and  camp 
followers),  they  captured  Nicsea,  the  capital  of 
Rum  (19th  June  1097),  defeated  the  Turks  at 
Dorylseum  {Eski-Shehr,  1st  July  1097),  crossed 
the  desert  in  a  burning  summer,  captured  Antioch 
after  an  exhausting  siege  of  nine  months  (21st 
Oct.  1097-3rd  June  1098),  during  the  dire  famine 
of  which  many  deserted  for  home  (Alb.  Aq.  iii. 
50-52,  iv.  34)  until  stopped  by  the  discovery  of  a 
Holy  Lance,2  and  defeated  the  vast  relief  forces  of 
Kerbugha  of  Mosul  (28th  June).  After  ten  months' 
delay,  the  remnant  of  the  crusaders,  reduced  now 
to  less  than  40,000  all  told  (Rohricht,  op.  cit.  1S3  n.), 
disdaining  the  proffered  terms  of  the  Egyptians, 
marched  on  Jerusalem  (13th  May-6th  June  1099), 
the  capture  of  which  (15th  July  1099)  was  followed 
by  the  massacre  of  70,000  Muslims  and  Jews, 
women  and  children  included  (Alb.  Aq.  vi.  20-23). 
Eight  days  later  Godfrey  was  elected  king  (real 
title,  'advocate  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre')  of  Jeru- 
salem (22nd  July  1099  ;  William  of  Tyre,  op.  cit. 
ix.  chs.  1-12).  His  overthrow  of  the  Egj^ptians 
at  Ascalon  (12th  Aug.  1099)  was  followed  by  the 
disaster  of  his  death  (ISth  July  1100).     The  two 

1  For  critical  examination  of  this  Council,  see  Rohricht,  Er.tt. 
Kreuz.  235-9.  For  Urban's  other  Councils  after  Clermont,  at 
which  also  he  preached  the  Crusade,  see  Vi.  22. 

2  On  this  incident,  see  Raymund  of  Agiles,  '  Hist.  Francorum,' 
in  Recueil,  iii. 


Baldwins,  his  brother  and  cousin,  who  succeeded 
him,  slowly  extended  the  limits  of  the  kingdom 
(Tripoli,  1109  ;  Tyre,  1124),  which  began  to  decline 
after  1143. 

At  its  widest  extent,  the  four  flefs  of  the  kingdom  of  Jeru- 
salem were :  (1)  the  principality  of  Jerusalem ;  (2)  the  county 
of  Edessa,  which  fell  to  Baldwin  the  brother  of  Godfrey,  who 
had  detached  himself  from  the  main  host  for  the  purpose  in 
1097 ;  (3)  the  principality  of  Antioch  claimed  by  Bohemond, 
and  always  inclined  to  independence;1  (4)  the  county  of 
Tripoli.2  The  settlement  of  the  kingdom  on  a  feudal  basis  was 
marked  by  the  gradual  compilation  (see  Bury's  Gibbon,  vi. 
App.  16  ;  Stubbs,  Itin.  Reg.  Ricard.,  Introd.  p.  xc)  of  that  moBt 
interesting  code  of  feudal  customs,  etc.,  the  'Assize  of  Jeru- 
salem,' 8  as  also  by  the  foundation,  for  itsdefenca,  of  the  various 
orders  of  military  knights  (see  below,  p.  361). 

Literature. — The  original  sources  for  the  First  Crusade  are 
to  be  found  for  the  most  part  in  the  ponderous  though  incom- 
plete Recueil  des  historiens  des  croisades  [Hist.  Occident.], 
6  vols.  (Paris,  1844-96)— a  collection  which  supersedes  that  of 
J.  Bongars,  Gesta  Dei  per  Francos  (Hanover,  1611),  used  by 
Gibbon.  In  vol.  i.  (1)  there  is  a  good  Itinerary  of  the  various 
Crusades,  by  S.  Jacobs.  Of  the  Bources  the  following  are  the 
most  important :  (1)  Gesta  Francorum,  by  an  unknown  S. 
Italian  knight  who  took  part  in  the  First  Crusade.  He  de- 
posited his  book  at  Jerusalem,  possibly  in  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 
where  it  was  frequently  consulted  by  other  writers,  of  several 
of  whom  it  forms  the  basis.4  (2)  Guibert  of  Nogent  (b.  1053), 
Gesta  Dei  per  Francos ;  almost  entirely  dependent  on  (1). 
Guibert  was  present  at  Clermont,  and  writes  down  to  1104. 5 
(3)  Raymund  of  Agiles,  Hist.  Francorum  qui  ceperunt  Jeru- 
salem', also  dependent  on  (1) :  a  narrative  by  a  Provencal  eye- 
witness.6 (4)  Fulcher  of  Chartres,  Hist.  Hierosolymitana  \ 
the  only  eye-witness  of  the  events  in  Edessa  ;  continues  down  to 
1127 ;  alBo  depends  on  (1).7  (5)  Baldric,  Archbishop  of  Dol, 
Hist.  Hierosolymitana,  written  in  1108 ;  entirely  founded  on  (l).f 

(6)  Albert  of  Aachen,  Hist.  Hierosolymitana — a  vivid  narra- 
tive of  the  First  Crusade,  written  after  1120  ;  really  copied  from 
an  unknown  crusader  from  Lorraine,  together  with  use  of  (l).9 

(7)  Ralph  of  Caen,  Gesta  Tancredi  ;  a  friend  of  Tancred,  for 
whose  exploits  he  is  of  great  value.10  (8)  Ekkehard  of  Aura, 
near  Kissingen  (d.  1125),  Hierosolymita.  He  went  to  Palestine 
in  1101,  and  was  there  about  six  weeks.11  (9)  Cafaro  di 
Caschifelone,  de  Liberations  civitatum  Orientis.  The  writer 
(b.  1080)  went  out  in  Aug.  1100,  returning  in  July  1101  (see 
Recueil,  v.,  Introd.  p.  xvii).  It  is  of  special  value  for  Genoese 
matters  up  to  1109.1*  Other  minor  sources  of  no  great  historical 
value,  including  the  poem  of  Gilo  of  Toucy  and  Foulk,  Vim 
J erosolymitance  (written  c.  1126  [see  Recueil,  v.,  Introd.  cxlv]) 
are  ed.  in  Recueil,  vol.  v.  (10)  Of  Greek  writers,  Anna 
Comnena  (b.  1083),  owing  to  her  position  as  daughter  of  the 
Emperor  Alexius,  cannot  be  neglected,  due  account  being  paid 
to  her  bias.1-* 

Of  modern  workB  dealing  with  the  First  Crusade  (see  also 
below)  the  first  critical  study  was  H.  v.  Sybel,  Gesch.  den 
ersten  Kreuzzugs2,  Diisseldorf,  1881.  Two  German  historians 
have  since  spent  a  lifetime  in  the  preparation  of  a  series  of 
important  monographs:  H.  Hagenmeyer,  Peter  der  Eremite, 
Leipzig,  1879  (for  First  Crusade,  see  chs.  5  and  6),  with  a  good 
'Chronology'  (1094-1100)  in  Appendix,  and  his  Die  Kreuzzugs- 

1  For  its  history,  see  E.  G.  Rey,  'Resume  chron.  de  la  hist. 
d'Antioche,'  in  Revue  de  I'orient  latin,  iv.  321  ff.,  1896. 

2  On  the  limits  of  these  fiefs,  see  Jacobs,  in  Recueil,  i.  [1] 
Introd.  ch.  2  ;  or  Lane-Poole,  Saladin,  New  York,  1S9S,  p.  26  f. 
For  tables  of  kings,  dynasties,  rulers,  etc.,  see  Lane-Poole, 
op.  cit. 

3  Best  ed.  byde  Beugnot,  2  vols.,  1S41  andlS43;  for  a  critique, 
see  Gaston  Dodu,  Hist,  des  institutions  monarchiques  dans  le 
royaume  latin  de  J&rxtsalem,  Paris,  1S94. 

-1  Best  ed.  by  H.  Hagenmeyer,  Heidelberg,  1890,  with  intro- 
duction and  notes  ;  also  in  Recueil,  iii.  121  ff. 
e  In  Recueil,  iv.  113-263. 

6  See  C.  Klein,  Raimund  v.  Aquilers  (Berlin,  1S92),  anfl  v. 
Sybel,  Erst.  Kreuz.  15  ff.  In  Recueil,  iii.  231-310 ;  Migne,  PL 
civ.  591-666. 

7  See  v.  Svbel,  op.  cit.  46  ff.;  Hagenmeyer,  Gesta  Franc,  p. 
68  ff. ;  Recueil,  iii.  311  ff.,  or  Migne,  PL  civ.  826-942. 

**  See  v.  Sybel,  op.  cit.  36 ff.;  Recueil,  iv.  1-111. 

9  See  Hagenmeyer,  op.  cit.  62-68,  or  B.  Kugler,  Albert  v. 
Aachen,  Stuttgart,  1885,  who  maintains  his  value  as  against 
v.  Sybel's  doubts  ;  Recueil,  iv.  265-713. 

io  Recueil,  iii.  587-716  ;  Migne,  PL  civ.  489-590,  or  Muratori, 
Script,  rer.  Ital.  v.  285-333.  On  Ralph,  see  v.  Sybel,  up.  cit. 
64  ;  Hagenmeyer,  op.  cit.  69. 

n  Best  ed.  by  P.  E.  D.  Riant,  in  Recueil,  v.  [1895]  1-40,  or, 
separately,  by  H.  Hagenmeyer  (Tubingen,  1877),  with  valuable 
introduction.  The  ed.  in  Martene  (A  mpliss.  Collect.,  1729,  vol. 
v.  coll.  513-35)  is  very  defective,  and  that  in  Pertz  by  Waitz 
(MGll  vi.  265  ff.)  is  scarcely  complete.  For  many  events 
Ekkehard  is  our  only  source  (see  Recueil,  v.,  Pref.  p.  vii). 

i'-  Recueil,  v.  48-73 ;  or  Pertz,  MGH  xviii.  40-8 ;  or,  separately, 
ed.  by  L.  T.  Belgrano,  Rome,  1S90. 

13  Of  her  Alexias  (complete  ed.  in  Migne,  PG  exxxi.  ;  or  2  vols, 
in  Corpus  script,  hist.  Byz.  [Bonn,  1828-97] ;  or  ed.  Reifferscheid 
[Teubner],  1884),  the  books  dealing  with  the  First  Crusade 
(x.-xiv.)arein  the  Recueil  des  hiatoriens  des  croisades  [Hi&oriens 
grecs],  i.  1-204  (2  vols.,  Paris,  1875,  1881,  with  Lat.  paraphrase 
the  2nd  vol.  contains  annotations  only). 


348 


CRUSADES 


briefe  (1088-1100),  Innsbruck,  1901,  with  complete  bibliography 
of  all  minor  sources,  magazines,  etc.;  R.  Rohricht,  Gesch.  des 
erst.  Kreuz.,  Innsbruck,  1901  (perhaps  the  best  single  work), 
and  Beitrdge  z.  Gesch.  d.  Kreuz.,  2  vols.,  Berlin,  1874,  1878. 
P.  E.  D.  Riant  must  not  be  overlooked  among  those  who 
have  done  good  work  (cf.  Recueil,  v.).  His  Invent,  crit.  des 
lettres  (708-1100),  Paris,  1880,  is  of  value  for  advanced  work. 

2.  Second  Crusade. — For  many  years  the  Latin 
kingdom  had  been  threatened  by  the  growing 
power  of  the  Atabeg  amir  of  Mosul,  'Imad-al-Din 
Zengi,  or  Zanghis,  twisted  by  the  Latins  into 
Sanguineus  (1127-14th  Sept.  1146), 1  to  whom  must 
be  attributed  the  first  stemming  of  the  tide  of 
Latin  conquest.  His  capture  and  massacre  of 
Edessa  (25th  Dec.  1144) 2  was  followed  by  the  suc- 
cesses of  his  great  son,  Nur-al-Din  Mahmud.  The 
fall  of  Edessa  aroused  the  West,  chiefly  through  the 
preaching  of  St.  Bernard  (see  art.  BERNARD,  vol. 
ii.  p.  530),  first  at  Vezelay  before  Louis  VII.  (31st 
March  1146),  then  later  in  the  Rhine  valley,3  where 
the  persecution  of  the  Jews  which  usually  attended 
a  Crusade  had  broken  out.  As  a  result  of  his  meet- 
ing with  Bernard  at  Spires  (27th  Dec.  1146),  the 
Emperor  Conrad  III.,  with  reluctance,  took  the 
cross  (E.  Vacandard,  S.  Bernard,  Paris,  1895,  ii. 
288  ff. ).  Conrad  started  from  Bamberg  (May  1147) 
by  the  overland  route,  with  about  100,000  fol- 
lowers, including  many  women,  and,  after  a  dis- 
orderly journey,  reached  Constantinople,  followed 
closely  by  Louis,  who  set  out  from  Metz  (11th 
June  1147).  An  attempt  of  Conrad  to  push  on 
was  followed  by  the  loss  of  30,000  Germans,  and 
he  was  forced  back  upon  Nicsea  to  await  Louis. 
From  there  the  armies  marched,  though  in  two 
divisions,  to  Ephesus,  whence  the  wounded  Conrad 
returned,  after  Christmas,  to  winter  at  Constan- 
tinople. Louis,  however,  and  a  part  of  the  Germans 
under  Otto  of  Freising,  continued  their  march. 
Otto's  force  was  cut  to  pieces  near  Laodicea,  and 
Louis  was  disastrously  defeated  in  the  defiles  of 
Phrygia  (Odo,  op.  cit.  vi.  :  a  remarkable  story), 
but  managed  with  diminished  forces  to  reach 
Antioch  (19th  March  1148).  Meanwhile  Conrad 
set  sail  from  Constantinople  (10th  March  1148), 
and  reached  Acre  in  April.  The  two  armies 
mustered  at  Palma,  near  Acre  (24th  June  1148). 
But  the  attack  on  Damascus  failed  (Bernhardi,  op. 
cit.  563-78),  and  Conrad  sailed  home  (8th  Sept. 
114S),  followed  by  Louis  (Easter,  1149).  Bernard 
and  Suger  thereupon  planned  a  second  expedition, 
and  at  a  Council  at  Chartres  (7th  May  1150) 4 
Bernard  was  actually  elected  commander-in-chief 
— an  office  which  he  refused  (Bernard,  Ep.  256). 
The  miserable  termination  of  the  crusade  led  to  a 
reaction  of  anger  against  St.  Bernard  (de  Consid. 
ii.  1).  As  an  important  episode  in  the  Crusade  we 
may  note  the  undesigned  conquest,  by  an  English 
fleet,  of  Lisbon  from  the  Moors  (Bernhardi,  op.  cit. 
579-90). 

Literature.— For  the  Second  Crusade  the  chief  sources,  in 
addition  to  William  of  Tyre  (see  below),  are  Odo  de  Diogilo 
(Deuil),  de  Prqfectione  Lud.  vri.  (in  Migne,  PL  clxxxv.  1205  ff.), 
and  two  anonymous  writers,  Gesta  Lud.  VII.  and  the  Hist, 
gloriosi  Ludfi  For  Conrad,  see  Otto  of  Freising,  de  Gcst.  Frid. 
i.  34-39,  43-45,  58-59  [in  Pertz,  UGH  xx.].  Of  Greek  writers, 
Nicetas  Acominatos  continues  the  work  of  Anna  Comnena  from 
1118-1206  with  more  fairness  (see  Recueil  [Hist,  grecs],  Paris, 
1875).  Of  modern  works,  B.  Kugler,  A  nalekten  z.  Gesch.  des 
zweit.  Kreuz.,  Tubingen,  1878,  1S85,  and  A'eue  Analekten, 
Tubingen,  1885;  W.  Bernhardi,  Conrad  III.,  2  vols.,  Leipzig, 
1883  (esp.  pp.  591-684). 

3.  Third  Crusade.— In  1164  and  1167  the  Turk- 
ish amir  Shiracouah   (Asad  al-Din  Abu-1-Harith 

1  For  life,  see  Lane-Poole,  Saladm,  chs.  3  and  4,  and  J.  F. 
Michaud,  Bib.  des  croUades  (Paris,  1829),  iv.  78  ff. 

2  For  date,  see  Bernhardi,  Conrad  III.  513  n. ;  William  of 
Tyre,  op.  cit.  xvi.  4. 

s  Odo  of  Deuil,  op.  cit.  i.  1 ;  Bouquet,  Recueil,  xii.  91. 

4  For  this  Council,  which  Mabillon,  Baronius,  and  others  put 
in  1146,  thus  leading  to  grave  error,  repeated  in  most  writers, 
see  E.  Vacandard,  S.  Bernard,  ii.  430  ff. 

B  A.  Duchesne,  Hist.  Franc.  Script.,  Paris,  1641,  iv.  390ff.  ; 
or,  better,  ed.  by  A.  Molinier,  under  the  title  Vie  de  Louis  le 
Groa,  Paris.  1887  (written  1153  and  1172). 


Shlrkuh)  attacked  the  Fatimids  of  Egypt  and 
their  Frank  allies.  But  the  treacherous  designs 
of  the  advisers  of  Amalric  of  Jerusalem  (1162-73) 
to  seize  Egypt  led  the  Fatimids  to  turn  to  the 
Turks  for  help.  After  the  burning  of  Cairo  (i.e. 
Fustat,  12th  Nov.  1168),  Amalric  was  forced  to 
return ;  but  Saladin,  at  the  command  of  Nur-al- 
Din,  destroyed  the  Fatimid  dynasty  (Sept.  1171), 
restoring  Egypt  to  the  allegiance  of  the'Abbasid 
Khalifs  of  Baghdad  (William  of  Tyre,  xix.  5-7, 
12-31,  xx.  5-12).  On  the  death  of  Shiracouah 
(23rd  March  1169),  his  nephew  the  Kurd  Saladin 
(Salah-al-Din :  b.  1137)  without  delay  (26th  March) 
was  recognized  as  his  successor  as  vizier  of  Egypt. 
The  disunion  due  to  the  death  of  the  Sultan  Nur- 
al-Din  (15th  May  1174)  was  not  taken  advantage 
of  by  the  Latins,  who  allowed  Saladin  to  extend 
and  consolidate  his  dominions  (Syria,  1174-6).  The 
inglorious  expedition  of  Philip  of  Flanders  (Aug. 
1177-Easter  1178),  and  the  great  defeat  of  Saladin 
at  Ramleh  by  375  knights  under  Reginald  of 
Chatillon  (25th  Nov.  1177),  led  in  1180  to  a  truce 
for  two  years.  The  violation  of  the  truce  by 
Reginald  of  Chatillon's  seizure  of  Karak,  and 
subsequent  plunder  of  Arab  caravans  (1179,  1182, 
1186),  and  the  rapid  decay  of  the  kingdom  of  Jeru- 
salem through  dissensions,  finally  issued  in  a  de- 
termined attack  by  Saladin,  whose  soldiers  were 
now  trained  in  Frank  methods.  His  great  victory 
at  Tiberias  or  Hattln  (4th  July  1187)  was  followed 
by  the  siege  (20th  Sept. )  and  capitulation  of  Jeru- 
salem on  2nd  Oct.  1187. '  Saladin's  siege  of  Tyre 
(Nov.  and  Dec.  1187)  was  thwarted  by  Conrad  of 
Montferrat,  but  the  rest  of  the  country  was  over- 
run, and  a  conditional  promise  was  made  of  the 
surrender  of  Antioch  if  not  relieved  within  seven 
months. 

Meanwhile  Europe  once  more  armed,  being 
terrified  by  the  tidings  which  reached  it  (end  of 
Oct.  1187  [Girald.  Camb.  dePrinc.  Instr.  239])  of  the 
loss  of  Jerusalem.  The  first  to  move  was  the  great 
Emperor,  Frederick  Barbarossa,  who  as  a  young 
man  had  taken  part  in  the  Second  Crusade.  Start- 
ing from  Regensburg  (11th  May  1189),  Frederick 
crossed  Hungary  and  Bulgaria,  and  wintered  at 
Adrianople,  sore  harassed,  as  usual,  by  the  treach- 
ery of  the  Greeks.  Soon  after  Easter  1190  he 
crossed  the  Bosporus,  avoiding  Constantinople,  and 
struggled  through  the  deserts  of  Cilicia.  On  the 
death,  by  drowning,  of  the  great  Emperor  (10th 
June  1190)  in  the  Saleph  (Geuk  Su  or  Calycadnus, 
Itin.  Ric.  55),  the  Germans  made  their  way,  in  part, 
to  Antioch  (June  21st),  in  part  to  Tripoli. 

Literature. — For  this  expedition  we  have  the  narrative  of 
two  spectators  :  Tageno  of  Passau,  Descript.  Expedit.  Frid.  I. 
(in  M.  Freher,  Germ.  Rer.  Script,  i.  406-16,  ed.  Struv,  Strass- 
burg,  1717),  and  the  anonymous  Exped.  Asiatica  Frid.  I.  (in 
Canisius,  Led.  Antiq.  iii.  (2)  pp.  498-526,  ed.  J.  Basnage  [Amster- 
dam, 1725]).  For  modern  works,  see  A.  Chroust,  Tageno, 
Ansbert,  und  d.  Hist.  Percgrinorum,  Graz,  1892. 

Richard  of  England  (Nov.  1187)  and  Philip 
Augustus  of  France  (Jan.  1188)  had  been  the  first 
to  take  the  cross.  But,  owing  to  their  quarrels, 
they  did  not  start  from  Vezelay  until  June  1190. 
They  journeyed  together  to  Marseilles,  and  by 
separate  fleets  (Genoese  and  English)  to  Messina 
(23rd  Sept.),  where  they  wintered.  Sailing  in  the 
spring,  and  on  the  way  conquering  Cyprus  in  a 
fortnight  (Itin.  Ric.  183  ff.),  Richard  arrived  at 
Acre  (8th  June  1191),  which  Guy  de  Lusignan  had 
sat  down  to  besiege  (28th  Aug.  1189)  and  Saladin 
to  defend,  both  sides  passing  through  the  extremes 
of  pestilence  and  famine.  Richard  had  been  pre- 
ceded by  Philip  (20th  Apr.),  and  on  3rd  July  a 
united  assault  was  made  on  the  town,  which  sur- 
rendered on  the  12th  of  the  same  month.  The 
quarrels  of  Philip   and   Richard   were,   however, 

1  See  Ernoul,  in  L'Estoire  de  Eracles,  xxiii.  55  ff.  (Recueil,  ii. 
82  ff.),  for  interesting  narration.  For  the  events  of  the  years 
1187-9,  see  R.  Rohricht,  Beitrdge  z.  Gesch.  d.  Kreuz.  l.  115-20S 


CRUSADES 


;w9 


disastrous,  and,  on  31st  July,  Philip  set  sail  home. 
Richard  with  100,000  men  marched  down  the  coast 
to  Jaila,  protected  hy  his  ileet,  and  on  7th  Sept. 
inflicted  at  Arsuf  a  great  defeat  upon  Saladin 
(good  narrative  in  Itin.  Mc.  p.  259).  After  six 
weeks'  delay  in  re-fortifying  Jaffa,  Richard  twice 
marched  within  sight  of  Jerusalem  (Jan.  and  June 
1192),  but  was  forced  to  fall  back  on  Ascalon. 
Dissensions,  treason,  luxury,  and  immorality  (cf. 
Itin.  Ric.  pp.  284-5)  among  the  crusaders,  and 
trouble  at  home  (ib.  p.  334),  led  Richard  to  come 
to  terms  with  Saladin  (2nd  Sept.).  The  Christians 
were  to  retain  the  coast  from  Tyre  to  Jaffa,  and  to 
have  free  access  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  On  9th 
Oct.  1192,  Richard  left  Palestine.  Such  small 
successes  as  this  Crusade  had  accomplished  were 
wholly  due  to  his  marvellous  skill  and  daring  (of 
the  latter  the  most  remarkable  illustration  is  in 
Ralph  Coggeshall,  Chron.,  Rolls  Ser.  1875,  pp.  41- 
51).  On  the  death  of  Saladin  at  Damascus  (4th 
Maich  1193)  his  dominions  were  divided,  and  the 
Christians  obtained  a  respite,  a  great  victory  being- 
won  by  German  crusaders  in  1197,  which  led  to  the 
recovery  of  the  coast  towns. 

Literature. — For  Richard's  Crusade  the  following  ars  the 
chief  sources.  (1)  The  anonymous  Itin.  Regis  Ricardi  (ed.  by 
W.  Stubbs,  with  valuable  Introd.  in  Rolls  Ser.  1864).  The 
old  ascription  (due  to  Gale's  ed.  1687)  to  Geoffrey  Vinsauf  is 
incorrect.  Stubbs  (Introd.  op.  cit.  xliff.)  advocates  the  author- 
ship of  Richard,  a  canon  of  the  Holy  Trinity  in  Aldgate,  by 
whom  it  was  published  1200-20  (ib.  p.  lxx).  It  is  now  generally 
agreed  (in  spite  of  Stubbs,  I.e.  p.  lviii)  that  it  is  a  free  Latin 
translation  of  a  French  poem  of  a  Norman  knight  called  Ambroise, 
the  minstrel  of  Richard  (ed.  by  F.  Liebermann  and  R.  Pauli  in 
Pertz,  MGH  xxvii.  [188fl]  532  ft.,  also  ed.  Gaston  Paris,  L'Estoire 
de  la  guerre  sainte,  1897  ;  the  poem  was  discovered  in  1873).  (2) 
Sundry  references  in  the  Chronicles  of  Rogrer  Hoveden  (ed. 
Stubbs,  in  Rolls  Ser.,  4  vols.  186S-71)  ;1  Matthew  of  Paris  (ed. 
H.  R.  Luard  in  Rolls  Ser.,  7  vols.  1872-83);  and  Ralph  de 
Diceto  (ed.  Stubbs  in  Rolls  Ser.,  2  vols.  1876).!  (3)  Two  con- 
temporary narratives  :  the  anonymous  Libellus  de.  expugnatione 
Terrce  Sanctos  (printed,  with  the  Chronicle  of  Ralph  Coggeshall, 
in  Rolls  Ser.,  ed.  J.  Stevenson,  1876,  p.  209  fl. ;  also  in  Martene 
(.4  mpliss.  Coll.  v.  644, 1729), 1  and  the  crusader's  journal  (Stubbs, 
Itin.  Ric.,  Introd.  p.  xxxviii)  in  Benedict  of  Peterborough's 
Gesta  Henrici  II.  et  Ric.  f.i  (ed.  Stubbs,  in  Rolls  Ser.  1807).2 
(4)  The  great  Arabic  work  of  Bohadin  (Baha-al-Din,  b.  1146, 
d.  1234),  the  friend  of  Saladin  (ed.  with  French  tr.  under  title 
'  La  Vie  du  Sultan  Youssof '  (i.e.  Saladin),  in  Recueil  des  hist. 
deB  croisades  [Hist,  orient.]  iii.  [Paris,  1884] ;  also  ed.  Schul- 
tens,  Leyden,  1732).  The  tr.  of  0.  W.  Wilson,  published  by  the 
Palestine  Pilgrims  Text  Society  (London,  1897),  is  said  by  Lane- 
Poole  to  be  unscholarly.3  Of  modern  works,  S.  Lane-Poole, 
Saladin,  New  York,  1898,  is  of  special  value.  Lane-Poole  speaks 
in  high  terms  of  F.  L.  C.  Marin's  Hist,  de  Saladin,  2  vols., 
Paris,  1758.  G.  L.  Schlumberger,  Renaudde  Chdtillon,  Paris, 
1898,  ma}r  also  be  consulted. 

4.  Fourth  Crusade. — As  the  so-called  Fourth 
Crusade,  in  spite  of  Innocent  m.'s  intention,  never 
became  a  Crusade  at  all,  but  simply  a  successful 
attempt  by  the  Latins  to  seize  Constantinople  and 
the  Eastern  Empire,  for  our  present  purpose  it  may 
be  dismissed.  Note  should,  however,  be  taken  of 
the  ancient  hatred  thus  accentuated  between 
Greek  and  Latin ;  of  the  evidence  the  Crusade 
affords  of  the  fatal  dissension  between  the  Eastern 
and  Western  Churches,  the  existence  of  which  was 
one  great  cause  of  the  failure  of  the  Crusades  (cf. 
below,  p.  350b) ;  of  the  indifference  of  the  great 
trading  towns  of  Italy,  especially  Venice,  to  all 
motives  except  gain  ;  and  of  the  terrible  weakening 
in  powers  of  defence  of  Constantinople  which  the 
Latin  conquest  and  pillage  (12th-13th  Apr.  1204) 
and  subsequent  Latin  rule  (1204-61)  produced. 

From  the  first,  the  Crusade,  which  Innocent  III. 
had  preached  immediately  on  his  accession,  was 
betrayed  by  Venice,  which  had  agreed  to  provide 

1  For  the  Crusades  these  works  can  also  be  read  in  the  con- 
venient ed.  by  F.  Liebermann  and  R.  Pauli,  in  Pertz,  MGH 
xxvii.  (1885). 

2  The  above  have  been  extracted  and  translated  by  T.  A. 
Archer,  Crusade  o/  Richard  I..  London,  18S8  (in  '  Eng.  Hist,  by 
Contemp.  Writers '  series). 

3  Bohadin's  panegyric  can  be  corrected  by  the  works  of  Ibn- 
al-Athir  (1160-1233),  History  of  the  Atabegs  (the  enemies  of 
Saladin)  and  Al-Rdmil,  or  the  Perfection  of  History  (both  in 
Recueil  [Hist,  orient.),  vols.  i.  ii.,  Paris,  1S72-87). 


sea-power  (March  1201).  The  ostensible  object 
was  Egypt,  the  centre  of  Muslim  power  ;  but,  while 
the  crusaders  were  assembling  at  Venice,  the  Re- 
public concluded  a  treaty  with  the  Sultan  of  Egypt 
(13th  May  1202) :  to  divert  the  Crusade,  in  return 
for  valuable  commercial  privileges  in  Alexandria 
and  Jerusalem  (see  Bury's  Gibbon,  vi.  385  n.,  528). 
The  price  the  Republic  wrung  out  of  the  crusaders 
was  tour  marks  a  horse,  two  per  man,  or  £180,000 
(Pears,  Fall  of  Constantinople,  p.  234).  As  they 
had  nothing  wherewith  to  pay,  the  crusaders  were 
then  disgracefully  used  by  the  doge  Henry  Dandolo, 
and  Boniface  of  Montferrat,  for  their  own  purposes. 
Until  recent  investigations,  historians,  including 
Gibbon,  were  successfully  misled  by  the  official 
narrative  of  Villehardouin,  who  seems  himself  to 
have  been  in  the  plot. 

Literature. — Of  G.  de  Villehardouin,  ConquCte  de  Constant., 
the  best  editions  are  by  N.  de  Wailly,  3rd  ed.  (18S2),  who  still 
maintains  V.'s  candour,  and  E.  Bouchet,  2  vols.,  Paris,  1891. 
Other  sources  are  (1)  Gunther's  Historia  (ed.  P.  E.  D.  Riant, 
1876;  also  in  Canisius,  Antiq.  Led.  iv.) ;  (2)  the  eye-witness 
Robert  de  Clary,  Li  estoires  de  chiaus  qui  conq.  Const.  (MS 
privately  published  by  P.  E.  D.  Riant  in  1868  ;  ed.  by  Ch.  Hopf, 
Chron.  grico-rom.,  Berlin,  1873,  p.  Iff.);  (3)  the  anonymous 
Deuastatio  Constant,  (another  recent  discovery  ;  ed.  in  Pertz, 
MGH  xvi.,  and,  better,  in  Hopf,  op.  cit.  p.  86  ft.).  Of  modern 
writers,  E.  Pears,  Fall  of  Constantinople ,  London,  1885,  should 
be  specially  studied  for  its  clear  survey;  see  also  G.  Finlay, 
History  of  Greece,  from  its  Conquest  by  the  Crusaders,  etc.,  Edin- 
burgh, 1851. 

5.  Fifth  Crusade. — At  the  Lateran  Council  (Nov. 
1215),  Innocent  III.  unfolded  his  plans  for  a  new 
Crusade.  The  cross  was  taken,  among  others,  by 
Andrew  II.  of  Hungary,  who  arrived  at  Acre  (1217), 
but  accomplished  nothing.  In  May  1218  some 
Northern  crusaders  under  John  de  Brienne  sailed 
from  Acre  to  Damietta.  After  a  siege  of  seventeen 
months,  Damietta  was  captured  (5th  Nov.  1219) ; 
but,  owing  to  discord,  was  lost  again  (8th  Sept. 
1221). 

At  his  coronation  in  Rome  (Dec.  1220),  and  on 
his  marriage  with  Yolande  of  Jerusalem  (Nov. 
1225),  Frederick  II.,  '  the  wonderof  the  world,'  had 
taken  the  crusaders'  oath.  Finally,  after  excom- 
munication for  delay  by  Gregory  IX.,  Frederick 
landed  at  Acre  with  only  600  knights  (7th  Sept. 
1228) ;  but,  owing  to  his  excommunication,  the 
Military  Orders  refused  to  serve  under  him.  By 
treaty,  however,  with  the  Sultan  al-Kamil  Muham- 
mad (1218-38),  but  chiefly  through  the  dissensions 
of  the  Turks,  Frederick  obtained  (24th  Feb.  1229) 
the  cession  of  Jerusalem  (save  the  Temple),  Beth- 
lehem, and  Nazareth ;  and  on  18th  March  1229 
crowned  himself  in  Jerusalem.  Hearing  that  in 
his  absence  Gregory  IX.  had  instituted  a  Crusade 
against  him,  Frederick  returned  from  Acre  and 
landed  at  Brindisi  (10th  June  1229). 

In  August  1239,  on  the  appeal  of  Gregory  IX.,  an 
abortive  French  Crusade,  under  Theobald,  king  of 
Navarre,  set  sail  from  Marseilles ;  followed  (June 
1240)  by  Richard,  earl  of  Cornwall,  who  had  taken 
the  cross  at  Winchester  (June  1236),  and  Simon 
de  Montfort.  Richard  reached  Acre  on  11th  Oct. 
(Matt.  Paris,  iv.  71),  and  by  purchase  secured  the 
release  of  many  captives  (ib.  iv.  141-3).  Nothing, 
however,  was  accomplished,  and  on  3rd  May  1241 
he  returned  home  {ib.  iv.  144).  In  1243,  by  negotia- 
tion, Jerusalem  was  once  more  restored.  But  the 
calling  in  of  the  Charismians  (an  Eastern  tribe 
driven  from  their  homes  by  Genghis  Khan)  as  allies 
by  the  Sultan  of  Egypt  led  to  the  annihilation  of 
the  Templars  and  Hospitallers  at  Gaza  (14th  Oct. 
1244),  the  sack  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  massacre  of 
30,000  of  its  inhabitants. 

Literature. — For  the  Fifth  Crusade,  in  addition  to  Ernoul, 
we  have  as  special  sources:  (1)  James  of  Vitry,  Hist.  Hicro- 
solymitana  (in  Bongars,  Gesta  Dei,  i.  1047  ft.),2  who  was  an  eye- 
witness of  the  siege  of  Damietta  (see  his  Epistola  de  capta 
Damiata  [ed.  J.  Gretser  in  his  Hortus  S.  Crucis,  Ingolstadt, 

1  The  treaty  is  hinted  at  by  Ernoul  (Recueil,  ii.  250). 

2  There  is  an  Eng.  tr.  by  A.  Stewart,  Loudon,  1896. 


350 


CRUSADES 


1610,  or  in  his  Op.  Omn.t  vol.  3,  Regensburg,  1734]);  and  the 
continuation  of  William  of  Tyre  by  Bernard  the  Treasurer  (see 
below,  p.  351b).  (2)  The  Gesta  obsidionis  Damiatce  (Muratori, 
Rerum  Ital.  Script,  viii.  1084  f.).  (3)  de  Quinto  bello  Sacro 
Testimonia  Minora,  (ed.  R.  Rohricht,  Geneva,  1882,  for  Soc.  de 
l'orient  lat.).  This  work  contains  a  most  useful  collection  of  all 
the  smaller  Belgian,  English,  French  (including  Ernoul),  Ger- 
man, Italian,  Scandinavian,  and  Spanish  sources;  also  Quinti 
belli  Saeri  Script.  Min.  (ed.  R.  Rohricht,  Geneva,  1879-82,  for 
the  same  Society).  (4)  For  Frederick  n.  we  have  Richard  de  S. 
Germano,  Chron.  (11S9-1243),  in  Muratori,  op.  cit.  vii.  1002-13; 
Pertz,  MGH  xix.  323  ft.  Of  modern  writers,  for  the  Crusade  of 
Andrew  and  the  capture  of  Damietta,  see  R.  Rohricht,  Studien 
zur  Gesch.  d.  fun/ten  Kreuz.,  Innsbruck,  1891,  ch.  2.  For 
Frederick  II.,  Rohricht,  Die  Kreuzfahrt  Ft.  II.,  Berlin,  1872 
(printed  also  in  his  Beitrdge  z.  Gesch.  d.  Kreuz.,  1874). 

6.  Sixth  Crusade. — The  fall  of  Jerusalem  before 
the  Chaxismians  led  St.  Louis  IX.  to  take  the  cross. 
He  sailed  from  Aigues-Mortes  (25th  Aug.  1248) 
with  1800  ships  and  at  least  50,000  men,  wintered 
in  Cyprus,  and  reached  (5th  June)  Damietta,  which 
the  Saracens  abandoned.  After  six  months'  delay 
the  French  pushed  on  towards  Cairo,  but  were 
almost  annihilated  (8th  Feb.  1250)  at  Mansurah  (see 
Oman,  op.  cit.  338-50).  Compelled  to  retreat,  Louis 
was  captured  (15th  Apr.-6th  May  1250),  but  secured 
his  freedom  from  the  Mamluks  by  a  ransom  of 
400,000  livres  and  the  surrender  of  Damietta. 
After  four  years  in  Palestine,  spent  in  the  forti- 
fication of  the  seaports,  Louis  departed  without 
having  reached  Jerusalem,  arriving  home  11th 
July  1154. 

Literature. — For  this  Crusade,  see  the  narrative  of  the  eye- 
witness J.  de  Joinville,  Hist,  de  S.  Louys  IX.  (most  convenient 
ed.  is  that  of  Natalis  de  Wailly  with  Fr.  tr.  [1868,  1874],  or  the 
Paris  ed.  of  1761) ;  E.  J.  Davis,  Invasion  of  Egypt  in  W,7  (1897), 
is  a  good  modern  account. 

7-  Seventh  Crusade. — In  1263  the  sultan  Bibars 
(Baybars  al-Bundukdari)  of  Egypt  began  the 
systematic  conquest  of  Palestine  (Arsuf  [1265], 
Safed  [1266],  Jaffa  [1268],  and  Antioch  [12th  June 
1268]).  In  July  1270,  Louis  IX.,  provoked  by  the 
loss  of  Antioch,  set  off  from  Aigues-Mortes  with 
36,000  troops,  but  was  induced  to  turn  aside  to 
Tunis,  in  the  siege  of  which  he  died  (25th  Aug. 
1270).  Edward  of  England  (afterwards  Edward  I.) 
reached  Tunis  (9th  Oct.),  and,  after  wintering 
there,  reached  Acre  (9th  May  1271)  just  in  time 
to  save  the  city  from  the  Muslims.  Owing  to  his 
father's  failing  health,  Edward  was  driven  to  patch 
up  a  ten  years'  truce,  and  return  (14th  Sept.  1272). 
Throughout  his  life  he,  however,  cherished  the 
hope  of  further  Crusades.  Meanwhile  the  growing 
quarrels  of  the  Military  Orders,  and  the  rivalry  of 
Genoese,  Venetians,  and  Pisans,  led  to  renewed 
disasters,  in  the  strip  of  the  Latin  kingdom  still 
left — by  the  capture  of  Tripoli  (1289),  and  finally 
of  Acre  (18th  May  1291),  when  the  massacre  of 
60,000  Christians  closed  '  the  World's  Debate.' 

In  a  sense  the  Crusades,  as  the  struggle  of  Muslim  and 
Christian,  may  be  said  to  have  been  continued  by  the  slow 
conquest  of  Spain  from  the  Moors,  by  the  war  of  Sigismund 
with  the  Tuiks  (1396),  by  Muhammad  n.'s  capture  of  Con- 
stantinople (1453),  by  the  great  naval  victory  of  Don  John  at 
Lepanto  (1571),  and  that  of  John  Sobieski  at  Vienna  (Sept. 
1683).  But  all  motive  of  rescue  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  etc.,  was 
now  lost,  and  the  sole  idea  was  political  — to  roll  back  the 
invasion  of  the  Turks  from  Europe. 

Literature.—  For  the  Seventh  Crusade,  the  expedition  of 
St.  Louis  is  in  William  de  Nangis  (ed.  H.  Geraud,  2  vols., 
Paris,  1843).  For  Edward  we  have  T.  Wykes  in  Annates 
llonastici  ([Rolls  Ser.]  ed.  Luard,  vol.  iv.,  1869);  and  the 
Chronicon  of  Walter  Gisburn  or  Hemingrburgh  (ed.  H.  C. 
Hamilton,  1848,  vol.  i.  pp.  329-37).  For  the  final  siege  of  Acre 
the  anonymous  de  Excidio  urbis  Acconis,  in  Martene,  Ampliss. 
Collect,  v.  757-84 ;  and  Abu-1-Fida's  account  in  Recueil  [Hist, 
or.]  vol.  i. 

III.  Causes  of  failure  of  the  Crusades. 
— I.  Lack  of  sea-power. — This  applied  especially 
to  the  early  Crusades.  The  long  march  overland 
from  Germany  or  France  through  Hungary,  the 
Eastern  Empire,  then  across  the  deserts  and 
mountains  of  Asia  Minor,  would  have  tried  the 
ability  of  Alexander  or  Napoleon  at  the  head  of 
their  seasoned  legions.  It  was  fatal  to  Godfrey  of 
Bouillon   and   Louis  vn.    and,  of  course,  to  the 


undisciplined  thousands  who  followed  Walter  the 
Penniless.1  With  sea-power,  Barbarossa  might 
have  won.  On  the  field  of  battle  the  crusaders 
were  irresistible.  But  entangled  among  mountains 
and  deserts  their  numbers  became  their  ruin.  The 
lack  of  sea-power,  the  possession  of  which  would 
have  led  to  success,  was  the  effect  of  a  still  deeper 
cause.  Sea-power  in  the  Mediterranean  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  Greeks,  or  of  the  cities  of  Italy — 
Venice,  Genoa,  and  Pisa.  Of  these,  Venice,  once 
the  subject,  was  now  the  ally  of  Constantinople 
(see  Bury's  note,  Gibbon,  vi.  381),  and  Genoa  was 
chiefly  intent  on  guarding  its  trade  with  the 
Crimea.  The  sea-power  of  England  and  North 
Europe  was  used  advantageously  at  Jaffa  in  1102 
and  1107,  but  was  not  available  for  the  transport 
of  the  Continental  crusaders.  After  the  First 
Crusade  the  West  woke  up  to  the  advantage  of  a 
sea-power.  But  the  Greek  Empire  had  now  be- 
come bitterly  antagonistic  to  all  Crusades  (see 
below,  §  2),  and  so  sea-power  was  denied  by 
the  Greeks  and  Venetians,  except  on  exorbitant 
terms  (cf.  above,  '  Fourth  Crusade'). 

2.  The  division  of  Christendom. — But  the  chief 
cause  of  failure  was  undoubtedly  the  disunion  of 
the  crusaders,  and  the  deep  hatred  between  tl« 
Greek  and  Latin  Churches.  A  united  Christendom 
would  have  been  invincible  :  it  recoiled  broken  and 
dispirited  by  its  own  divisions.  The  disunion  was 
of  a  double  nature — national  and  religious.  Of 
the  national  dissensions  the  Third  Crusade  will 
serve  as  an  example ;  or,  better,  the  fact  that  at 
Acre,  when  it  fell,  there  were  no  fewer  than 
seventeen  independent  commands.  From  the  first 
the  Crusades  were  a  French  rather  than  a  German 
movement ;  and  the  Germans — the  Empire,  in  fact 
— in  consequence  did  little.  Of  the  religious 
dissensions — largely  also  national — the  antagonism 
between  the  Greek  and  Latin  Churches  and 
Empires  was  even  more  fatal.  The  Greeks  after 
the  First  Crusade  rarely  did  anything  to  assist  the 
Crusaders,  and  often  secretly  thwarted  them. 

3.  The  bad  organization  of  the  Latin  kingdom. 
— The  conquests  achieved  by  the  First  Crusade 
were  organized  on  a  feudal  basis.  Latin  in  char- 
acter, by  over-taxation  and  intolerance  it  hope- 
lessly estranged  the  natives  (H.  G.  Prutz,  Kultur- 
gesch.  d.  Kreuzziige,  p.  167),  especially  the  native 
Churches  (Nestorians,  etc. ).  There  is  some  evidence 
that  Jerusalem  was  betrayed  to  Saladin  by  Chris- 
tian Melchites  (Recueil,  ii.  85  n. ).  One  result  of 
the  feudal  system,  when  worked  in  connexion  with 
a  country  of  enervating  climate  and  constant 
warfare,  was  the  number  of  heiresses,  and,  in 
consequence,  of  disputed  and  changing  successions.3 
The  only  sound  element  in  the  country  in  this 
matter  was  the  organization  of  the  Military  Orders, 
with  their  constant  succession  of  new  blood  from 
Europe. 

IV.  Results  of  the  Crusades.— i.  Political. 
—The  immediate  political  effects  have  been  dealt 
with  under  the  several  Crusades.  Other  con- 
sequences were : 

(1)  Increased  importance  of  the  Papacy,  as  the 
embodiment  of  the  unity  of  Christendom,  and  the 
leader  in  the  call  to  war,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
Urban  II.  in  his  summons  left  out  those  great  ideas 
of  military  method  and  politico-ecclesiastical 
conquest  upon  which  Gregory  had  impressed  the 
stamp  of  his  character.  But  the  crusaders  were 
the  soldiers  of  the  Pope,  who  alone  could  remit 
their  vows.  By  the  '  Saladin  tax  '  a  tenth  of  the 
revenues  of  the  clergy  were  poured  into  the  Papal 
coffers.     The    increased    importance    attached  to 

1  Oman  (op.  cit.  233)  points  out  the  geographical  ignorance 
shown  in  these  land  routes. 

2  See  Stubbs,  Itin.  Reg.  Ric,  Introd.  pp.  lxxxix-cxi,  for  A 
brilliant  analysis  of  the  causes  of  the  fall  of  the  Latin  kingdom, 
and  consequent  failure  of  the  Crusades. 


CRYSTAL-GAZING 


351 


indulgences  through  the  Crusades,  and  the  effect 
on  the  Papacy,  must  not  be  overlooked.  How 
completely  the  Papacy  was  identified  with  the 
conception  of  Crusades  is  seen  in  the  disastrous 
extension  of  the  idea  to  all  the  wars  engineered  or 
encouraged  by  the  Papacy  against  its  enemies,  e.g. 
the  Albigenses  ;  against  Frederick  II.  and  Manfred ; 
or  against  the  Hussites.  In  the  long  run  this 
power  of  inaugurating  a  Crusade  told  by  its  misuse 
against  the  Papacy,  and  was  one  cause  of  its  fall. 

(2)  Weakness  of  the  Eastern  Empire. — Un- 
fortunately, one  result  of  the  Crusades,  especially 
of  the  Third  Crusade,  was  the  weakening  of 
Constantinople, — this  altogether  apart  from  the 
fatal  Fourth  Crusade, — and  thus  of  the  barrier  of 
Europe  against  the  Muslim  (see  Pears,  op.  cit. 
ch.  5).  This  result — the  exact  opposite  of  the 
intention — was  the  direct  outcome  of  the  religious 
feud  between  the  Greek  and  Roman  Churches. 

(3)  Rise  of  the  Military  Orders. — An  important 
consequence  was  the  foundation  of  the  various 
Orders  of  military  monks,  whose  influence  and 
history  overleap  the  narrow  limits  of  the  Crusades 
(see  also  Hospitality  [Christian],  Monasti- 
CISM).  (a)  Of  these  the  oldest,  the  Hospital  of  St. 
John  of  Jerusalem,  was  in  existence  as  a  hospital  for 
pilgrims  at  an  early  but  unknown  date.1  On  the 
institution  of  the  Templars  the  hospital  was  turned 
into  a  Military  Order,  (b)  The  famous  Order  of 
the  Temple  was  instituted  about  1118.  But  its 
real  start  was  not  until  Bernard  at  the  Synod  of 
Troyes(Jan.  1128)  lentit  his  advocacy.  To  Bernard 
was  assigned  the  composition  of  its  Rule,  the 
greater  part  of  which,  however,  is  by  a  later  hand.2 
(c)  The  Teutonic  Order  of  Knights  was  founded  in 
1190  at  the  siege  of  Acre.  Its  vast  importance  for 
European  history  by  its  conquest  of  Prussia  from 
the  heathen  must  not  he  forgotten,  (d)  There  was 
a  fourth  Order,  Knights  of  St.  Thomas  of  Acre,  of 
interest  as  almost  purely  English.3 

2.  Commercial  and  social. — (1)  Growth  of  liberty. 
— The  expenses  of  the  crusaders  led  to  the  sale  of 
estates,  advowsons,  town-rights,  manorial  rights, 
etc.,  to  merchants,  burgesses,  and  others;  and  so, 
to  the  growth  of  liberty.  The  sales  to  the  Jews  led 
by  reaction  to  an  outbreak  against  them  (W. 
Cunningham,  Growth  of  Eng.  Industry  and 
Commerce,  vol.  i.  [5th  ed.,  Cambridge,  1910]  p. 
205).  In  commerce  we  see  the  opening  up  of  the 
East  to  the  West  (H.  G.  Prutz,  Kulturgesch.  d. 
Kreuz.),  especially  to  Venice  and  Genoa  (Cunning- 
ham, op.  cit.  147,  198).  As  the  monks  did  not  go 
on  crusade,  the  sales  of  estates  ministered  much  to 
their  wealth,  and  to  that  of  the  Church  generally. 

(2)  Introduction  of  Aristotle  to  Europe. — The 
contact  of  East  and  West  led  James  of  Venice  to 
bring  hack  and  translate  (1124)  the  books  of 
Aristotle,  including  the  Physical  Works,  previously 
known  only  in  imperfect  translations.  The  effect 
of  this  was  one  of  the  causes  of  the  rise  of  Scholas- 
ticism (see  H.  B.  Workman,  Christian  Thought  to 
the  Reformation,  London,  1911,  ch.  9).4 

3.  Theological. — Through  the  realization  of  the 
sufferings  of  the  Saviour — powerfully  aided  by 
the  Crusades  (cf.  the  Crusaders'  Hymn,  '  Salve, 
caput  cruentatum ') — the  idea  of  the  historical  but 
dying  Jesus  was  formed  side  by  side  with  the 
growing  mediseval  conception  of  the  sacramental 

1  See  Rohricht,  Erst.  Kreuz.  11  n.  Recueil,  v.,  Pref.  cix.,  dates 
about  1060,  from  William  of  Tyre,  xviii.  4  and  5.  W.  Heyd, 
Gesch.  d.  Levantehandels  im  Mittelalter  (2  vols.,  Stuttgart,  1879, 
French  tr.  by  P.  M.  Raynaud,  Paris,  1S85,  i.  103-6),  argues 
against  the  accepted  view  that  it  was  founded  by  merchants  of 
Amalfl  (Recueil,  v.  401). 

2  See  Bouquet,  Recueil,  xiv.  232 ;  Labbe,  Cone.  xxi.  360 ; 
Op.  Bernard,  ii.  543,  in  PL  clxxxii.  919. 

3  For  its  history,  see  Stubbs,  Itin.  Ric,  Introd.  p.  cxii  n. 

*  The  influence  of  the  Arab  philosophers  upon  Western 
thought  must  not  be  put  down  to  the  Crusades,  as  it  came 
through  Spain. 


and  eternal  Christ.  'The  primitive  Christian 
intuitions  were  restored.  The  sacred  places  stirred 
the  imagination,  and  led  it  to  the  Christ  of  the 
Gospels'  (Harnack,  Hist.  Dogma,  Eng.  tr.  vi. 
[1899]  9). 

Literature.— Original  Sources.— The  particular  sources 
for  the  several  Crusades  have  already  been  noted  under  each. 
It  remains  to  add  the  more  general  works.  The  best  work 
covering  the  whole  period  is  William  of  Tyre  (b.  1127),  whose 
intimate  acquaintance  with  Palestine  was  supplemented  by  a 
knowledge  of  Arabic.  His  Hist,  return  in  partibus  transma- 
rinis  gestarum  (Recueil  [Hist,  occid.],  i.  [1844])  is  one  of  the  great 
works  of  mediaeval  history,  and  should  be  studied  even  by  those 
who  cannot  afford  time  for  research.  Until  recent  years  it  was 
the  basis  of  all  histories  dealing  with  the  Crusades.  Books  i.-xv. 
(to  1144)  are  indebted  to  earlier  writers,  esp.  Albert  of  Aachen  ; 
xvi.-xxiii.  (to  1184)  to  his  own  observation.  It  was  continued 
in  French  by  Ernoul,  who  was  present  at  the  battle  of  Hattin 
and  the  capitulation  of  Jerusalem,  down  to  1229  ;  by  Bernard 
the  Treasurer,  down  to  1231 ;  and  by  anonymous  writers,  down 
to  1277  (see  J.  M.  de  Mas  Latrie,  Chronique  d'Ernoul  et  de 
Bernard  le  Tresorier  [Paris,  1871] ;  or  A.  P.  Paris,  G.  de  Tyre  et 
ses  continuateurs,  2  vols.  [Paris,  1879-80]).  The  whole  was 
translated  into  French  before  the  publication  of  the  continuation 
(de  Beugnot,  Recueil  [Hist,  occid.],  i.  pref.  p.  xxv)  under  the 
absurd  title  of  L'Estoire  de  Eracles  Entpereur  (i.e.  Heraclius), 
the  opening  words  of  the  Historia ;  in  Recueil,  vols.  i.  and  ii. 
For  the  charters,  etc.,  of  the  kingdom  of  Jerusalem,  see  R. 
Rohricht,  Regesta  regni  Hierosolymitani,  Innsbruck,  1893, 
1904.  Of  the  general  Oriental  sources,  "AH-Ibn-al-Athir's  (b. 
1160)  history  from  1098-1190  will  be  found  in  Recueil  [Hist,  or.% 
i.  189  ff. 

Modern  Authorities. — Special  monographs,  including  the 
valuable  works  of  Hagenmeyer  and  Rohricht,  have  been 
indicated  under  the  several  Crusades.  Of  general  Histories  the 
following  may  be  noted  :  E.  Gibbon  (ed.  Bury  [new  ed.  in  prep. 
1911],  with  appendixes,  corrections,  and  notes  by  S.  Lane-Poole) 
is  valuable  for  the  First  Crusade,  poor  for  the  others,  and 
misleading  for  the  Fourth,  on  which,  however,  when  the  main 
idea  is  corrected,  he  is  full  and  good.  The  best  summary  for 
the  general  reader  is  T.  A.  Archer  and  C.  L.  King;sford,  The 
Crusades,  London,  1894,  but  without  notes.  Complete  Burveys 
are  found  in  Bernard  Kugler,  Gesch.  der  Kreuzziige,  Berlin, 
1880,  and  L.  Brehier,  L'Eglise  et  Vorient  au  tnoyen  dge,  Paris, 
1907.  The  older  F.  WUken,  Gesch.  d.  Kreuzziige,  7  vols., 
Leipzig,  1S07-32,  and  J.  F.  Michaud,  Hist,  descroisad.es,  6  or  6 
vols.  (Paris,  1812-17,  1825-9 :  also  new  ed.  Brussels,  1857,  Eng. 
tr.  in  3  vols,  by  \V.  Robson  [1852]),  may  be  neglected  without 
much  loss.  For  the  kingdom  of  Jerusalem  the  most  accurate 
account  is  in  R.  R6hricht,  Gesch.  d.  Konigreichs  Jerus., 
Innsbruck,  1S98.  The  reader  ma}'  also  consult  C.  R.  Conder, 
The  Latin  Kingdom  of  Jerusalem,  London,  1S97;  E.  G.  Rey, 
Les  Colonies  franques  de  Syrie,  Paris,  18S3  (social  history,  etc.). 
Military  matters  are  dealt  with  in  C.  W.  Oman,  Hist,  of  the 
Art  of  War,  London,  1898,  bks.  iv.  and  v.  ;  the  Greek  view  in 
G.  Finlay,  Hist,  of  Greece,  7  vols.,  ed.  H.  F.  Tozer,  Oxford, 
1877,  vols,  ii.-iv.  Guy  le  Strange,  Palestine  under  the 
Moslems,  London,  1S90 ;  S.  Lane- Poole,  Moors  in  Spain, 
London,  1897 ;  H.  G.  Prutz,  Kulturgesch.  d.  Kreuzziige,  Berlin, 
18S3  (in  many  points  exaggerated),  deal  with  important  side- 
matters.  For  the  Children's  Crusade  of  1212,  reference  may  be 
made  to  G.  Z.  Gray,  Children's  Crusade,  New  York,  1S98. 

H.  B.  Workman. 

CRYSTAL-GAZING.—'  Crystal-gazing '  is  the 
current  name  for  the  attempt  to  provoke  the 
appearance  of  visions  by  concentrating  the  gaze 
on  any  clear  depth — a  crystal,  a  glass  ball,  water 
in  a  vessel,  water  in  a  pond,  a  mirror,  a  piece  of 
polished  basalt,  or  anything  of  the  kind.  With 
certain  subjects  it  suffices  to  stare  into  the  dark- 
ness of  a  funnel ;  in  fact,  granting  the  faculty  for 
being  hallucinated  in  the  course  of  gazing  fixedly, 
— say  at  ink  in  the  palm  of  the  hand,  or  at  ink  in 
an  ordinary  inkstand — the  details  are  unimportant. 
In  practice  the  easiest  method  is  to  look  steadily, 
for  perhaps  five  minutes,  at  a  glass  or  crystal  ball 
laid  on  any  dark  surface,  at  the  distance  from  the 
eyes  of  a  book  which  the  experimenter  might  be 
reading.  If  the  gazer  has  the  faculty,  he  usually 
sees  a  kind  of  mist  or  a  milky  obscurity  cover  the 
ball,  which  then  seems  to  become  clear  and  black  ; 
pictures  then  emerge.  Sometimes  the  ball  ceases 
to  be  present  to  the  consciousness  of  the  gazer,  who 
feels  as  if  he  were  beholding  an  actual  scene.  An 
Arabian  author  of  the  14th  cent.,  Ibn  Khaldun, 
describes  the  experience  in  similar  terms.1 

Any  one  who  is  fortunate  enough  to  have  the 
command  of  leisure  and  solitude  for  ten  minutes 
on  four  or  five  occasions  can  discover  whether  or 

1  Notices  et  Extraits  dee  MSS  de  la  Bibl.  Nat.  xix.  221  f.  ;  cf. 
A.  Lang,  The  Making  of  Religion,  Loud.  1S9S,  p.  368  f. 


352 


CRYSTAL-GAZING 


not  he  or  she  has  the  faculty  of  seeing  '  crystal 
visions.'  The  gaze  should  not  be  prolonged  when 
the  eyes  begin  to  feel  fatigued,  or  if  a  sense  of 
somnolence  appears  to  he  approaching.  Solitude 
is  here  recommended,  because  the  mind,  though  it 
may  follow  any  train  of  thought,  is  not  the  better, 
in  the  experiment,  for  the  irresponsible  chatter  of 
the  frivolous  and  talkative.  In  actual  life,  in  the 
present  writer's  experience,  it  is  very  rare  to  find 
any  person  who  has  the  leisure  and  the  resolution 
to  make  solitary  experiments  of  the  duration  of  ten 
minutes  on  four  or  five  occasions.  None  the  less, 
in  spite  of  the  scarcity  of  time  and  the  insistent 
demands  of  society,  it  is  now  admitted,  even  by  a 
number  of  orthodox  students  of  experimental  psych- 
ology, that  hallucinations  of  sight  really  are  pro- 
voked in  some  sane  and  honourable  and  educated 
persons,  by  gazing  into  a  clear  depth.  These  people 
see  '  crystal  visions  '  representing  persons,  events, 
and  places,  known  or  unknown,  familiar  or  un- 
familiar, to  the  gazer,  and  not  summoned  up  by 
any  conscious  attempt  to  'visualize.' 

This  set  of  facts  is  quite  as  certainly  authentic 
as  the  coloured  visions  of  arithmetical  figures, 
which,  as  Sir  F.  Galton  has  convinced  science,  arise 
before  the  '  mind's  eye '  of  many  persons  on  the 
mention  of  numbers.  In  both  cases,  so  far,  the 
'  visions '  are  attested  only  by  the  numbers  and 
personal  character  of  the  'seers.' 

A  third  kind  of  visionary  experience  is  perhaps 
less  common  than  we  might  suppose.  Many  per- 
sons are  unacquainted  with  illusions  hypnagogiques 
— the  bright  and  distinct  views  of  faces,  places, 

Eersons,  and  landscapes,  usually  unfamiliar,  which 
it  before  the  closed  eyes  in  moments  between 
sleeping  and  waking.  These  pictures,  like  those 
of  crystal  vision,  come  unsummoned,  and  often 
represent  persons  or  places  which  we  do  not  re- 
member ever  to  have  seen.  People  who  have  no 
experience  of  those  illusions  are  apt  to  disbelieve 
that  other  people  have  it.  In  short,  all  kinds  of 
experiences— visions  of  numerals  in  the  mind's  eye, 
illusions  hypnagogiques,  and  crystal  visions — are 
'  automatisms,'  and  are  not  produced  by  the  action 
of  the  conscious  intelligence. 

Before  the  experiments  of  the  Society  for  Psychi- 
cal Research,  in  the  matter  of  crystal-gazing,  were 
made  (1890-1910),  most  persons  of  sense  believed 
that  the  faculty  for  seeing  such  hallucinations  was 
a  mere  fable  of  romance-writers,  or  a  delusion  of 
peasants.  But,  when  many  experiments  had  made 
it  certain  that  the  faculty  is  far  from  being  very 
rare  among  members  of  both  sexes,  young  or  old, 
in  all  ranks  and  all  degrees  of  education,  attention 
was  drawn  to  the  use  of  crystal-gazing  in  many 
ages  and  lands  as  a  form  of  divination.  It  was 
found  that  the  pictures  seen  by  the  '  scryer,'  or 
gazer,  were  supposed  to  be  sent  by  spirits,  and  to 
indicate  events  distant  in  space  or  destined  to 
occur  in  the  future  ;  or  they  revealed  persons  guilty 
of  theft  or  other  crimes.  Thus  crystal-gazing  got 
a  had  name,  and  was  associated  with  invocation  of 
evil  spirits,  and  even  now  the  average  man  or 
woman  thinks  crystal-gazing  synonymous  with 
divination.  '  Tell  me  what  horse  will  win  the 
Derby,'  says  the  average  man,  '  and  if  you  succeed 
I'll  believe  that  there  is  something  in  it.'  Another 
criticism  is,  '  What  is  the  use  of  it  ? '  Savage 
peoples,  almost  everywhere,  and  the  people  of 
Greece,  Rome,  Egypt,  the  subjects  of  the  Incas  in 
South  America,  and  the  magicians  of  the  Middle 
Ages  and  later  thought  they  found  '  the  use  of  it ' 
to  be  the  gaining  of  knowledge  not  accessible  by 
any  normal  means. 

Thus,  in  Potynesia,  when  any  object  haa  been  stolen,  the 
priest,  after  praying,  has  a  hole  dug  in  the  floor  of  the  house 
and  filled  with  water.  Then  he  gazes  into  the  water,  over 
ivhich  the  god  is  supposed  to  place  the  spirit  of  the  thief.  '  The 
niitueof  the  spirit .  .  .  was,  according  to  their  account,  reflecied 


in  the  water,  and  being  perceived  by  the  priest,  he  named  the 
individual,  or  the  parties,  who  had  committed  the  theft.' !  Pert 
Lejeune,  S.J.,  found  that  among  the  American  Indians  of  his 
flock  (about  1660),  the  medicine-men  made  their  patients  gaze 
into  deep  water,  and,  if  they  saw  in  it  visions  of  anything 
edible  or  medicinal,  it  was  '  exhibited '  and  was  supposed  to  do 
them  good.  Captain  Bourke  of  the  U.S.  cavalry  discovered  that 
among  the  Apache  Indians  the  medicine-men  used  quartz 
crystals,  by  looking  into  which  they  could  see  everything  they 
wanted  to  see.2  Among  the  Iroquois  the  phantasm  of  the  per- 
son who  has  bewitched  another  is  looked  for  in  a  gourd  full  of 
water,  in  which  a  crystal  is  placed.3  The  Huilleche  of  South 
America  gaze  '  into  a  smooth  slab  of  black  stone.' 4  In  the  17th 
cent,  the  people  of  Madagascar  divined  by  gazing  on  crystals, 
and  according  to  de  Flacourt  divined  successfully.5  The  Zulus 
and  the  shamans  of  Siberia  gaze  into  vessels  full  of  water.  6  The 
Inca  king  Yupanqui  used  a  crystal.?  Australian  savages  use 
crystals  or  polished  stones.8  The  Romans  used  water  in  a  vessel 
of  glass.9  In  Egypt  and  in  India  ink  is  used,  whether  in  a  black 
spot  on  a  piece  of  paper  or  in  a  drop  in  the  palm  of  the  hand. 
Examples  of  mediaeval  and  modern  practice  are  collected  by 
'Miss  X.'  (Miss  Goodrich  Freer)  in  Proc.  of  Soc.  for  Psychical 
Research,  v.  486. 

It  is  manifest,  then,  that  the  production  of  visual 
hallucinations  by  various  modes  of  crystal-gazing 
is  of  world-wide  diffusion  and  unknown  antiquity  ; 
and  that  the  'use'  of  the  practice  has  been  tne 
discovery  of  knowledge  not  otherwise  accessible, 
though  knowledge  of  the  future  has  not  perhaps 
been  much  sought  in  this  fashion,  except  in  modern 
Europe,  and  in  a  well-known  anecdote  of  the 
Regent  d'Orleans  told  by  Saint  Simon. 

Miss  Goodrich  Freer,  in  her  essay  already 
cited,  was  (after  W.  Gregory  [Animal  Magnetism, 
London,  1851],  and  H.  Mayo  [Truths  in  Popular 
Superstitions,  Frankfort,  1849])  the  first  author  to 
examine  seriously  the  question  of  crystal-gazing. 
She  herself  possesses  the  faculty,  and  she  analyzed 
the  phenomena  in  her  own  experience.  She  found 
that  the  visions  represented  (1)  lost  memories  which 
thus  arose  into  her  upper  consciousness ;  (2)  ideas 
or  images  which  might  or  might  not  he  present  to 
her  normal  consciousness  ;  (3)  visions,  possibly  tele- 
pathic or  clairvoyant,  implying  acquisition  of  know- 
ledge '  by  supernatural  means.'  The  examples  of 
this  last  class  which  the  author  gave  were  not  very 
striking  ;  but  the  present  writer  has  known  her  to 
be  much  more  successful. 

It  has  been  the  writer's  fortune  to  meet  a  large 
number  of  very  normal  persons  of  both  sexes,  and 
often  of  high  intelligence  and  education,  who,  on 
making  experiments  in  a  subject  entirely  new  to 
them,  exhibited  the  faculty  in  various  degrees.  In 
its  lowest  form  figures  of  persons  and  objects  were 
seen  in  black  and  white  ;  not  in  the  colours  of 
nature.  Letters  in  the  printed  Roman  alphabet 
were  also  seen.  A  higher  form  of  the  faculty  is 
the  beholding  of  figures  in  the  costumes  of  various 
nations,  engaged  in  various  ways,  some  of  them 
romantic ;  in  other  cases  they  appear  to  represent 
some  unknown  incident  in  history.  Personages 
known  or  unknown  to  the  gazer  very  frequently 
occur.  The  figures,  wearing  the  colours  of  nature, 
move  about  in  a  free  natural  way,  and  often  remain 
long  in  view,  even  when  the  crystal,  after  being 
laid  down,  has  been  taken  up  again.  In  some  well- 
attested  cases  two  persons  see  the  same  crystal 
vision  simultaneously,  or  one  after  the  other.  But, 
in  the  second  category,  the  writer  has  only  once 
known  the  vision — novel  to  the  gazer — to  be  fitted 
later  with  a  real  objective  counterpart,  discovered 

1  W.  Ellis,  Polynesian  Researches,  London,  1830,  ii.  240. 

2  J.  G.  Bourke,  'Medicine-men  of  the  Apache,'  9  RBEW 
(1892),  p.  461. 

3  E.  A.  Smith,  '  Myths  of  the  Iroquois,'  2  RBEW  (1883),  p. 
68  f. 

4  E.  Fitzroy,  Narrative  of  Voyages  of  H.M.S.  Adventure, 
London,  1S39,  ii.  384. 

5  E.  de  Flacourt,  Hist,  de  Madagascar,  Paris,  1661,  ch.  76. 

6  H.  Callaway,  Religious  System  of  the  Aniazulu,  London,  1S6S, 
p.  341;  JAI  xxiv.  (1S94)  155,  citing  Eychkov,  Zhurnal,  p.  86. 

7  Cristoval  de  Molina,  Rites  and  Laws  of  the  Yncas,  ed 
and  tr.  Markham,  Hakluyt  Soc.  1S73,  p.  12. 

8  A.  Lang,  The  Making  of  Religion, .p.  90  ;  K.  Langloh  Parker, 
The  Euahlayi  Tribe,  London,  1905. 

9  Varro,  in  Aug.  de  Civ.  Dei,  vii.  35. 


CUCHULAINN  CYCLE 


353 


accidentally.  What  he  saw  actually  existed  in  all 
its  details,  unknown  to  him  and  to  the  writer,  who 
was  looking  on  at  the  experiment,  made  in  his 
smoking-room.  In  1897,  the  writer  met  at  St. 
Andrews  a  young  lady  who  was  visiting  the  place 
for  the  first  time  and  who  had  never  heard  of 
crystal-gazing.  Being  presented  with  a  glass  ball, 
she  made  a  number  of  experiments.  The  method 
was  that  any  one  who  pleased  (and  all  were  but 
very  recent  acquaintances  of  the  gazer)  thought  of 
anything  or  anybody  that  he  or  she  chose.  The 
lady  then  looked  into  the  glass  ball  and  described 
what  she  saw.  A  dozen  cases  of  her  success  (which 
included  seeing  persons  unheard  of  by  her,  in 
places  unknown  to  her,  persons  dressed  and  occupied 
as  inquiry  proved  that  they  had  been  clad  and 
engaged  at,  or  shortly  before,  the  hour  of  the 
experiments)  are  published  in  the  writer's  The 
Making  of  Religion,  pp.  90-112,  from  signed  and 
attested  records.  Many  other  successful  cases  are 
known  to  the  writer,  and,  during  the  course  of  the 
experiments  already  mentioned,  it  very  rarely 
occurred  that  the  gazer  saw  nothing,  or  something 
not  consciously  present  either  to  the  sitter's  mind, 
or — what  is  more  curious — to  the  mind  of  a  scepti- 
cal looker-on,  not  the  sitter.  If  telepathy  be  the 
cause  of  such  occurrences,  they  illustrate  the 
casual  and  incalculable  quality  of  that  agency. 
For  example,  in  some  experiments  a  lady  in  the 
south  of  England  was  to  try  to  send  impressions  to 
a  gazer,  who  had  never  heard  of  her,  in  the  north 
of  Scotland.  The  message,  of  a  very  simple  kind, 
did  not  arrive  ;  what  arrived  was  a  vivid  picture  of 
certain  singular  incidents  of  a  private  nature  which 
had  much  impressed  the  distant  communicator,  but 
which  she  had  no  intention  of  transmitting.  As 
fortuitous  coincidence  could  not  explain  so  many 
successes  in  the  experiments  of  1897 — the  crystal 
pictures  being  full  of  minute  details — the  writer 
was  reduced  to  supposing  that  some  unascertained 
cause,  going  sometimes  beyond  telepathy  as  usually 
defined,  was  at  work.  Many  other  curious  ex- 
amples of  the  possession  of  the  faculty,  apparently 
accompanied  by  telepathy,  have  occurred  in  ex- 
periments by  friends  and  kinsfolk  of  the  writer — 
healthy,  normal  men  and  women.  The  gazers  have 
never  shown  any  traces  of  drowsiness  or  dissocia- 
tion, or  even  any  tendency  to  form  theories  about 
their  experiences,  except  in  one  instance,  when 
experiment  destroyed  the  theory. 

In  the  writer's  opinion  experiments  of  the  kind 
described  are  more  trustworthy  than  investigations 
into  the  hallucinations  of  professional  and  trained 
female  hysterical  patients  in  French  hospitals. 
Pierre  Janet  has  published  such  experiments  with 
professional  neurotics  at  the  Salpetriere  in  his 
Ntvroses  et  idies  fixes  (Paris,  1898).  His  account  of 
the  experiences  of  Miss  Goodrich  Freer  in  her 
paper,  already  cited,  is  of  the  most  fantastic 
character,  as  becomes  manifest  when  her  narrative 
is  compared  with  the  document  which,  in  addition 
to  his  own  imagination,  is  his  source.  In  affairs  of 
this  sort  few  people  who  have  not  personal  ex- 
perience of  unaccountable  successes  can  be  expected 
to  believe  in  them ;  while  few  who  have  been 
present  at  such  successes,  and  have  had  their  own 
thoughts  read  (of  course  without  physical  contact 
— 'muscle-reading' — between  the  sitter  and  the 
crystal-gazer),  can  persist  in  scepticism.  It  is  plain 
that  in  most  countries  and  ages  crystal-gazing  in 
one  form  or  another  has  been  practised,  and  suc- 
cesses would  greatly  increase  the  hold  of  priest,  or 
witch,  or  medicine-man,  over  his  patrons.  Fraud 
would  doubtless  be  used  wherever  it  was  possible  ; 
knowledge  normally  acquired  would  be  presented  as 
of  supernatural  origin.  When  fraud  is  excluded, 
successful  crystal-gazing  otters  a  problem  even 
more  difficult  than  success  with  other  automatisms 
vol.  iv. — 23 


such  as  the  so-called  '  divining-rod  '  and  the  tilting 
table.  These  automatisms  appear  to  present  to  the 
normal  consciousness  knowledge  within  the  range 
of  the  sub-conscious  mind,  though  we  cannot  tell 
how  the  sub-conscious  mind  in  many  cases  obtains 
its  information. 

Literature.— Ab  this  subject  has  attracted  attention  only  in 
recent  years,  the  literature  of  it  is  very  scanty,  and  most  of  it 
has  been  cited  by  Miss  Goodrich  Freer  (as  '  Miss  X.')  in  Pro- 
ceedings of  the  Society  for  Psychical  Research,  vol.  v.  pp.  486, 
521,  vol.  viii.  pp.  468-535,  259,  276 ;  reference  should  also  be 
made  to  A.  Lang,  The  Making  of  Religion,  London,  1908,  and 
later  editions,  pp.  90-113 ;  N.  W.  Thomas,  Crystal  Gazing,  itn 
History  and  Practice,  London,  1905 ;  E.  W.  Lane,  Modern 
Egyptians5,  London,  1860 ;  Quarterly  Review,  vol.  1L\. ;  L.  de 
Laborde,  Commentaire,  Paris,  1841 ;  F.  W.  H.  Myers. 
Human  Personality,  London,  1903. 

Andrew  Lang. 

CUCHULAINN  CYCLE.— I.  Cuchulainn,  the 
chief  hero  of  the  Ulster  cycle  of  romance,  is 
regarded  as  a  re-incarnation,  or  avatar,  of  Lug 
Lamhfada,  '  the  long-handed,'  the  solar  deity  of 
the  ancient  Irish  ;  he  is  considered  in  his  birth - 
stories  sometimes  as  son  of  Lug,  sometimes  as  Lug 
himself  re-born.  His  mother  was  Dechtire,  sister 
of  king  Conor  (Conchobhar)  of  Ulster ;  she  and 
fifty  young  maidens,  her  companions,  were  trans- 
formed into  a  flock  of  birds  who  disappeared  for 
three  years  from  the  king's  court,  and  were  found 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Brugh  on  the  Boyne, 
where  are  tumuli  traditionally  believed  to  be  the 
burial-places  of  the  Tuatha  De  Danann  deities. 
Here  Dechtire  gave  birth  to  a  babe  ;  in  one  version 
of  the  tale  it  is  revealed  to  Dechtire  by  Lug  that 
he  himself  is  her  little  child  (i.e.  that  the  child  is 
a  re-incarnation  of  himself) ;  in  another,  Lug  is 
the  noble  young  warrior  whom  she  has  espoused. 

The  idea  of  re-incarnation  is  not  unfamiliar  in  Irish  literature. 
In  the  tale  called  'The  Wooing  of  Emer '  it  is  stated  that  the 
men  of  Ulster  wished  to  provide  a  wife  for  Cuchulainn,  'knowing 
that  his  re-birth  would  be  of  himself,'  i.e.  that  only  from  him- 
self could  another  such  as  he  have  origin  ;  and  in  the  tale  of 
'  The  Generation  of  the  Swineherds,'  which  explains  the  origin 
of  the  Bulls  who  take  part  in  the  great  mythological  warfare  of 
the  Tdin  Bd  Cualnge,  we  find  that  these  prodigious  kine  have 
gone  through  a  series  of  incarnations  before  their  final  appea: 
ance  as  bulls. 

Throughout  his  career,  Cuchulainn  is  watched 
over  by  his  divine  kinsman,  Lug,  and  he  points 
proudly  to  his  connexion  with  Lug  when  questioned 
as  to  his  origin.  He  has  also  a  father,  Sualtach  or 
Sualtam  (variously  spelt  Soaltainn,  Soalta,  etc.), 
to  whom,  according  to  one  of  the  birth-stories, 
Dechtire  is  married  by  king  Conor  after  her  con- 
nexion with  Lug.  The  stories  are  much  confused, 
and  there  are  suggestions  in  one  of  them  of  an 
incestuous  connexion  between  Dechtire  and  her 
brother  the  king  himself.  The  child  is  named 
Setanta  by  Lug^  command.  Little  is  known  of 
Sualtach ;  though  usually  regarded  as  a  human 
being,  he  is  more  than  once  called  in  Old  Irish 
literature  Sualtach  sidhe  or  Sualtach  sidhech,  i.e. 
'  Sualtach  of  the  fairy  haunts ' ;  and  he  is  spoken 
of  as  possessing  through  his  mother,  who  was  an 
elf  woman,  '  the  magical  might  of  an  elf  (cf.  Book 
of  LeinMer  [LL],  58a,  24  ;  C6ir  Anmann,  Ir.  Texte, 
iii.  sect.  282).  Like  all  the  personages  of  the  cycle, 
he  is  clearly  regarded  as  a  mythological  being. 
His  name  has  become  curiously  mixed  up  with  the 
genealogies  of  Fionn  mac  Cumhall  (cf.  Brit.  Mus. 
MS  Egerton,  1782,  in  which  he  appears  as  Fionn's 
grandfather).  In  the  Tdin  Bo  Cualnge  he  comes 
to  his  son's  aid  when  he  is  exhausted  by  the  labours 
of  the  war,  and  arouses  the  hosts  of  Ulster  to  his 
assistance.  He  is  there  called  '  Sualtach  or  Sual- 
tam, son  of  Becaltach  (Becfoltach)  mac  Moral tach, 
father  of  Cuchulainn  mac  Sualtach'  (LL  93a). 
He  was  killed  by  falling  accidentally  upon  the  rim 
of  his  own  shield. 

Although  Cuchulainn  is  the  prime  hero  of  Ulster, 
and  his  feats  of  heroism  are  performed  and  his 
wars  undertaken  in  defence  of  that  province,  he  is 


354 


CUCHULAINN  CYCLE 


nevertheless  said  (in  MS  Harl.  5280,  fol.  53  B, 
Brit.  Mus.)  not  to  'belong  to  Ulster' ;  and,  when 
the  whole  of  the  male  inhabitants  of  that  province 
were  overtaken  by  the  physical  weakness  which 
recurred  among  them  at  intervals,  and  which  seems 
to  have  been  the  result  of  some  sort  of  geis,  or 
'  tabu,'  Ciichulainn  and  his  father  Sualtach  were 
exempt  and  able  to  fight.  Though  usually  and 
officially  described  as  of  splendid  appearance  and 
with  ruddy  and  golden  hair,  Ciichulainn  is  some- 
times spoken  of  as  '  a  dark  sad  man  '  ('Wooing  of 
Emer'  [Arch.  Rev.  i.  72]),  or  a  'little  black-browed 
man '  (Mesca  Ulad,j>.  29),  which  would  not  suggest 
descent  from  the  Ultonians ;  in  connexion  with 
Ciichulainn's  original  name,  Setanta,  Rhys  points 
out  that  there  was  a  district  between  the  Mersey 
and  Morecambe  Bay  once  inhabited  by  a  people 
called  Setantii,  and  refers  to  Ptolemy  s  mention 
(II.  iii.  2)  of  a  harbour  of  the  Setantii,  the  position  of 
which  corresponds  with  the  mouth  of  the  Ribble 
( Celt.  Heath.  455  and  note).  An  obscure  Irish  poem 
relating  to  Ciichulainn  alludes  to  a  Setantian  stream 
{curoch  fri  sruth  Setinti,  '  a  coracle  against  the 
stream  of  Setanta')  (Leabhar  na  hUidhre  \LU~\ 
1256). 

2.  Ciichulainn's  precocity  is  abnormal ;  already 
at  the  age  of  seven  years  he  performs  his  first 
feats,  and  can  fight  with  and  destroy  warriors 
of  renown ;  his  lengthened  war  of  the  Tain  B6 
Ciialnge,  sustained  single-handed  in  defence  of 
Ulster  against  the  combined  forces  of  Munster, 
Leinster,  and  Connaught,  and  continued  during  an 
entire  winter,  from  before  Samhain,  or  Hallowe'en 
(Oct.  31st),  till  after  St.  Bridget's  Festival  (Feb.  1), 
is  represented  as  having  taken  place  when  the  hero 
was  only  seventeen  and  still  a  beardless  youth ; 
and  he  is  said  to  have  died  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
seven  {Ann.  Tighernach).  Among  his  feats  per- 
formed when  he  was  a  mere  child  is  that  from 
which  he  received  his  heroic  title  of  Ciichulainn. 
Cu  (gen.  Con),  '  hound,'  was  a  title  often  bestowed 
to  denote  a  hero  of  renown,  in  reference  to  the  use 
of  large  hounds  in  battle  and  the  bravery  shown 
by  them.     Ciichulainn  says  of  himself  : 

4 1  was  a  hound  strong  for  combat, 
I  was  a  hound  who  visited  the  troops, 
I  was  a  hound  to  guard  Emania.' 

He  received  this  name  from  his  combat  with  a 
fierce  dog,  said  to  have  been  brought  from  Spain 
(gloss  in  LU),  which  guarded  the  fort  of  Culann,  a 
smith  of  Ulster,  and  which  was  slain  by  the  boy 
when  he  was  scarcely  six  years  old.  The  child 
himself  took  the  office  of  the  watch-dog  until  one 
of  the  dog's  whelps  was  sufficiently  grown  to 
replace  him.  Henceforth  the  name  Cu  Chulainn, 
'  Hound  of  Culann, '  clung  to  him. 

It  is  said  in  Mesca  Ulad  that  a  district  extending  from  Usnech 
In  Meath  northward  along  the  coast  to  Dun  Dalgan  (Dundalk), 
and  called  Conaille  Muirthemne  and  Ciialnge,  belonged  person- 
ally to  Ciichulainn  (Todd  Lecture  Series,  1889,  i.  2).  It  embraced 
the  present  county  of  Louth  and  parts  of  Meath  and  West- 
meath.  At  that  time  the  province  of  Meath,  with  its  over- 
kingship  of  Tara,  had  not  come  into  existence,  and  Ulster 
extended  southward  to  the  Boyne,  touching  the  provinces  of 
Leinster  and  Munster  at  the  Hill  of  Usnech  in  Westmeath. 
This  district  seemB  to  have  been  bestowed  on  the  hero  by  king 
Conor,  and  was  not  his  by  inheritance.  Ciichulainn's  own  fort 
was  Dun  Dalgan  (now  Dundalk). 

His  wife  was  Emer,  daughter  to  Forgall  the  Wily,  a  landowner 
near  Lusk,  in  the  present  county  of  Dublin.  A  special  tale 
relates  his  wooing  of  Emer.  Though  she  appears  to  have  been 
his  only  real  wife,  she  had  numerous  rivals,  of  whom  the  most 
formidable  was  Fand,  wife  of  Manannan  mac  Ler,  a  goddess 
who  enticed  him  away  for  a  time  into  fairy-land. 

3.  The  Red  Branch. — Ciichulainn  is  the  central 
figure  of  a  group  of  champions  commonly  known 
as  'the  Champions  of  the  Red  Branch,'  so  called 
from  one  of  the  three  halls  in  the  kingly  palace  of 
Emain  Macha  or  Emania  (now  Navan  Fort,  S.W. 
of  Armagh,  where  raths  remain  to  the  present  day). 
The  history  and  feats  of  these  heroes  are  described 
in  a  series  of  over  a  hundred  distinct  tales.     There 


are,  besides  these  longer  tales,  numerous  detached 
episodes  which  fill  up  gaps,  so  that  the  career  of 
each  hero  of  importance  can  be  traced  from  birth 
to  death  in  a  very  complete  manner.  They  form 
a  connected  whole  in  the  mind  of  the  story-teller 
and  reader,  much  as  the  originally  isolated  tales 
referring  to  Arthurian  knights  ultimately  came  tc 
be  formed  into  a  complete  cycle  of  stories.  The 
three  most  prominent  champions,  who  are  fre- 
quently exposed  to  tests  of  strength  or  prowess 
against  each  other,  are  Conall  cernach,  '  the  Vic- 
torious,' Lseghaire  buadach,  '  the  Triumphant,' 
and  Ciichulainn ;  but  Ciichulainn  invariably  proves 
himself  to  be  the  greatest  hero  of  the  three. 

These  tales  seem  to  have  originated  in,  and  deal 
largely  with,  that  eastern  portion  of  Ulster  which 
lies  between  the  R.  Bann  and  Lough  Neagh  on  the 
west  and  the  sea  on  the  east.  The  capital  was 
Emain  Macha,  and  within  this  area  lay  the  forts 
and  dwelling-places  of  most  of  the  chief  heroes  of 
the  Ulster  cycle.  The  king,  who  appears  in  the 
tales  as  ruling  from  Emain  Macha,  is  named  Conor 
(Conchobhar),  and  his  death  is  synchronized  with 
that  of  our  Lord  in  Jerusalem.  The  reign  of 
Conor  and  the  exploits  of  the  heroes  are  thus 
traditionally  laid  in  the  first  century.  Though 
king  Conor  and  all  the  champions  are  accepted 
by  R.  O'Flaherty  (Ogygia,  Dublin,  1793,  pt.  iii. 
c.  xlvi.-xlviii. )  as  historical  personages,  there  is 
no  place  found  for  them  in  the  Annals,  though 
Conor  is  said,  in  some  versions,  to  be  the  son  of 
Fachtna  fathach,  'the Wise,'  who,  according  to  the 
Annals  of  the  Four  Masters,  ascended  the  throne 
of  Ulster  in  the  year  of  the  world  5042  (152  B.C.). 

The  entry  runs:— 'a.m.  6042.  The  first  year  of  Fachtna 
fathach  in  the  sovereignty  of  Ireland ' ;  and  fifteen  years  later 
we  have  the  entry  of  his  death  :  '  a.m.  6057.  Fachtna  Jathaeh, 
son  of  Rossa,  son  of  Rudhraigh,  after  having  been  sixteen  years 
in  the  sovereignty  of  Ireland,  was  slain  by  Eochaid  feidhleacf 
(i.e.  the  constant  sighing).' 

But  this  attempt  to  connect  king  Conor  with  a 
king  of  all  Ireland  was  evidently  a  late  one,  and  is 
the  less  to  be  taken  into  account  as  there  is  no 
sign  in  these  tales  that  the  central  province  of 
Meath,  with  its  capital  at  Tara,  had  at  this  time 
been  erected  into  a  separate  division,  or  that  any 
over- king  (called  in  Ireland  A rd-Ri,  or  '  High  King  ) 
as  yet  reigned  over  Ireland.  Ulster  is  represented 
as  naughtily  independent,  and  each  of  the  other 
provinces  had  its  own  king,  who  acted  with  perfect 
freedom  independently  of  any  central  authority. 
The  provinces,  or  '  Four  Great  Fifths,'  of  Ireland 
were,  at  the  time  of  which  we  speak,  Ulster, 
Leinster,  Connaught,  and  East  and  West  Munster. 
Meath,  the  future  central  royal  province,  created 
for  the  support  of  the  High  Kings  of  Ireland  who 
ruled  from  Tara,  did  not  then  exist.  Nor,  con- 
sidering that  Fachtna  died  137  B.C.,  could  he  have 
been  father  to  Conor,  who  reigned  in  the  beginning 
of  the  1st  century.  Another  and  probably  older 
version  makes  king  Conor  son  to  the  druid  and 
poet  Cathbad,  by  Nessa  his  wife,  a  woman  warrior. 

Though  Conor's  death  is  synchronized  with  the  moment  of 
our  Lord's  crucifixion,  the  Annals  of  Tighernach  date  his  death 
at  48  B.C.  O'Flaherty,  probably  observing  some  of  these  incon- 
sistencies, says  that  'the  king  came  near  committing  suicide, 
but  lived  fifteen  years  after.' 

We  may  regard  these  attempts  to  fit  the  career 
of  king  Conor  and  of  the  Champions  of  the  Red 
Branch  cycle  into  the  actual  history  of  Ireland  in 
much  the  same  light  as  the  connexion  of  the  heroes 
of  the  Nibelungen  with  the  early  history  of  the 
Teutonic  peoples  or  of  king  Arthur's  knights  with 
the  history  of  Britain.  The  tales  sprang  up  at  a  time 
when  the  power  of  eastern  Ulster  was  still  a  living 
tradition  among  the  literary  class  in  Ireland.  The 
raths  at  many  of  the  sites  of  the  traditional  forts, 
such  as  Emain  Macha  (Navan  Fort),  the  king's 
dwelling  in  Ulster,  and  Rath  Cruachan  or  Rath- 
crogan  (Co.   Roscommon),  the  fortress  of  Queen 


CUCHULAINN  CYCLE 


355 


Meave  of  Connaught,  show  that  the  legends  were 
connected  with  known  historical  sites,  but  it  is 
unnecessary  on  that  account  to  consider  the  actual 
personages  of  the  cycle  or  their  careers  as  historical. 
They  are  plainly  regarded  as  mythological,  and 
the  chief  events  and  wars  in  which  they  were 
engaged  bear  a  mythological  interpretation. 

The  tales  have  a  close  relationship  to  the  legends 
of  the  race  of  gods  known  as  the  Tuatha  De 
Danann  ;  a  few  of  them,  indeed,  both  in  style  and 
subject,  belong  equally  to  both  cycles.  Such  are 
'  The  Wooing  of  Etain  '  and  '  The  Dispute  of  the 
Swineherds. '  The  pedigrees  of  the  heroes  of  the 
Red  Branch  are  all  traced  up  to  the  Tuatha  De 
Danann,  although,  according  to  the  Annals,  there 
is  a  lapse  of  1500  years  between  the  two  epochs. 
Rudhraigh,  or  Rury,  is  the  head  of  the  house,  and 
from  him  and  from  the  goddess  Maga,  daughter  of 
Angus  na  Brugh,  by  her  marriages  with  Ross 
ruadh,  'the  Red,'  and  Cathbad  the  druid,  all  the 
chief  heroes  are  descended  (see  genealogies  in 
E.  Hull's  Cuchullin  Saga,  Introd.  p.  lv).  The 
extraordinary  feats  and  prowess  of  the  champions 
are  supposed  to  be  accounted  for  by  their  divine 
origin.  According  to  this  descent,  Cuchulainn  is 
grandson  of  Maga,  who  is  mother  to  Dechtire, 
which  brings  him  within  the  kingly  line  of  Ulster, 
and  denies  the  statement  that  he  '  was  not  of 
Ulster '  (see  above).  Probably  that  statement 
was  merely  an  effort  of  the  story-tellers  to  explain 
what  they  could  not  otherwise  understand,  viz. 
why  Cuchulainn  and  his  mortal  father  Sualtach  or 
Sualtam  were  exempt  from  the  curse  which  pros- 
trated the  whole  male  population  of  Ulster  in  sick- 
ness at  a  critical  moment  in  the  history  of  their 
province. 

4.  Ciichulainn  as  a  sun-hero. — Cuchulainn  was 
therefore,  on  the  one  side,  directly  connected  with 
Lug,  the  sun-god,  and,  on  the  maternal  6ide,  with 
Maga,  a  Tuatha  De  Danann  goddess.  King  Conor 
also  is  called  a  dia  talmaide,  or  terrestrial  god,  in 
LU  1016  ;  and  Dechtire,  his  sister,  the  mother  of 
Ciichulainn,  is  called  a  goddess :  Ciichulainn  mac 
dea  Dechtire,  '  the  son  of  the  goddess  Dechtire ' 
(LL  1236). 

The  two  marvellous  Bulls  for  the  possession  of 
which  the  great  war  of  the  Tain  B6  Ciialnge  was 
undertaken  were  of  supernatural  origin,  and  had 
existed  under  many  different  forms  before  they 
were  re-born  as  bulls ;  they  had  been  first  swine- 
herds of  the  gods  of  the  under  world,  then  ravens, 
warriors,  sea-monsters,  and  insects.  Under  each 
of  these  forms  they  had  lived  through  vast  periods 
of  time  ;  out  of  them  they  had  come  after  a  terrific 
struggle  which  shook  the  borders  of  Ireland,  only 
to  pass  again  through  some  new  transformation 
\Insche  Texte,  III.  1.  230-278).  These  struggles 
proved  to  be  preludes  to  the  war  of  the  Tain,  in 
which  all  Ireland  was  destined  to  engage,  and  to 
the  gigantic  struggle  at  its  close  between  the  two 
Bulls  themselves,  in  which  both  were  torn  to 
pieces.  The  mythological  warfare  of  these  Bulls, 
the  Finn  bennach,  or  '  White  horned,'  and  the 
Donn,  or '  Dark '  or  '  Brown '  Bull,  belonging  respec- 
tively to  the  East  and  West  of  Ireland  (Ciialnge  in 
Co.  Down,  and  Rath  Cruachan  in  Connaught), 
seems  to  symbolize  the  struggle  between  summer 
and  winter  or  the  struggle  between  day  and  night. 
The  Donn  is  a  terrific  creature  in  strength  and  in 
size.  On  his  back  fifty  little  boys  could  play 
their  games.  He  moves  about  accompanied  by 
fifteen  (or  fifty)  heifers.  His  ferocity  and  violence 
are  so  great  that,  when  he  is  driven  into  a  narrow 
pass,  he  revenges  himself  by  trampling  his  keeper 
to  death  and  treading  his  body  thirty  feet  into  the 
earth.  His  bellowings  strike  terror  into  all  who 
hear  him,  and  those  who  meet  him  after  his  final 
conflict  with  the  Finn  bennach  are  trampled  and 


gored  to  death.  This  conflict,  which  lasted  a  day 
and  a  night,  and  during  which  the  Bulls  traversed 
the  whole  of  Ireland,  was  ended  by  the  Donn 
tearing  his  adversary  to  pieces  and  returning,  head 
in  air,  to  his  native  home  in  Ciialnge,  where,  in  the 
madness  of  his  frenzy,  he  placed  his  back  to  a 
hillock  and  '  vomited  his  heart  up  through  his 
mouth  with  black  mountains  of  dark-red  gore,' 
and  so  expired.  In  like  manner  Cuchulainn  is  in 
every  way  abnormal.  His  rapid  development  and 
his  prodigious  strength  and  powers  are  everywhere 
insisted  upon.  When  he  is  about  to  perform  any 
special  prodigy  of  valour,  his  whole  person  expands 
and  undergoes  an  extraordinary  change  ;  he  grows 
monstrous,  terrific,  so  that  his  own  friends  cannot 
recognize  him  ;  he  is  known  as  '  The  Distorted  ' 
(riastartha),  or  '  The  Madman '  from  Emain  Macha. 
When  he  puts  forth  his  strength,  his  appearance 
is  so  terrific  that  none  can  stand  before  him  ;  his 
very  look  destroys  his  foes,  not  by  twos  or  threes 
but  by  hundreds ;  a  stream  like  dusky  blood, 
representing  his  energy,  rises  upward  from  his 
forehead,  and  over  his  head  his  '  bird  of  valour ' 
hovers  (cf.  the  light  over  the  head  of  Achilles 
caused  by  Athene,  II.  xviii.  205  [Butcher-Lang's 
tr.  p.  372  f.]).  His  body  gives  off  a  heat  which 
melts  the  snow  around  him,  or  raises  to  boiling- 
point  three  vats  of  water  in  which  he  is  successively 
immersed.  Yet  this  formidable  personage  is  fre- 
quently derided  by  his  enemies  for  the  boyishness 
and  insignificance  of  his  usual  appearance.  Prime 
heroes,  until  they  experience  his  hidden  powers, 
refuse  to  fight  with  him  ;  Queen  Meave  is  visibly 
disappointed  when  she  first  comes  face  to  face  with 
the  champion  who  has  been  holding  her  forces  at 
bay  through  weeks  of  combat,  and  killing  them  by 
the  hundred  merely  by  his  look ;  on  one  occasion 
he  has  to  blacken  a  moustache  with  blackberry 
juice  in  order  to  present  a  more  manly  appear- 
ance. 

If  we  regard  Ciichulainn  as  the  sun-hero,  these 
indications  of  his  unimposing  appearance  at  ordi- 
nary times,  succeeded  on  occasions  by  strange 
distortions  and  manifestations,  seem  aptly  to  re- 
present the  impression  which  might  be  produced 
on  the  savage  mind  by  the  contrast  between  the 
orb  of  the  sun  on  ordinary  occasions  and  its  appear- 
ance in  eclipse.  Again,  the  fine  poetic  simile  of 
the  threefold  hues  of  his  hair,  and  the  account  of 
his  splendour  when  he  appears  before  the  forces 
of  Meave  to  display  his  person  in  its  natural 
beauty,  seem  designed  to  illustrate  the  glory  of 
the  full  sunshine  of  summer  ;  so,  too,  do  the  heat 
generated  in  his  person,  the  energy  of  his  move- 
ments, his  wandering  habits,  and  the  destructive 
power  of  his  look.  We  may  also  note  that  '  blind- 
ness befell  all  women  who  loved  him ' — which  may 
possibly  have  reference  to  the  difficulty  of  gazing 
directly  on  the  sun.  It  is  possible  that  Cuchulainn's 
fight,  from  which  he  so  hardly  escaped,  with  the 
twenty-seven  sons  of  Calatin,  hideous  and  crooked 
beings,  who  formed  armies  out  of  puff-balls  and  out 
of  the  foliage  of  the  oak,  and  came  furiously  riding 
on  the  '  wind's  swift  clouds,'  may  symbolize  the 
hiding  of  the  sun's  face  before  the  '  armies  of  the 
storm,'  i.e.  the  massive  clouds,  formed,  as  it  might 
seem,  almost  out  of  nothing.  (Cf.  a  similar  sort  of 
incantation  in  '  The  Death  of  Muirchertach  mac 
Erca,'  RCel  xxiii.  [1902]  ;  the  '  Battle  of  Kat 
Godeu,'  Skene,  Four  Anc.  Boolcs  of  Wales,  i.  277  f., 
ii.  138 ;  and  '  The  Mabinogion  of  Math,  son  of 
Mathonwy,'  Lady  C.  Guest's  Mab.,  Lond.  1877, 
p.  416.)  A  remarkable  'tabu,'  or  geis,  of  Cuchu- 
lainn '  was  to  '  see  the  horses  of  Manannan  mac 
Ler'  (i.e.  the  billows  of  the  ocean-god),  which 
might  be  a  reference  to  the  apparent  extinction 
of  the  sun's  rays  when  he  sinks  down  at  night 
beneath  the  ocean  waves. 


356 


CUCHULAINN  CYCLE 


Cuchulainn  possesses  two  magic  steeds  which 
rise  out  of  the  Grey  Loch  of  Slieve  Fuaid  and  Loch 
Dubh  Sainglenn  respectively,  and  which  he  tames 
by  springing  unawares  upon  their  backs  and  wrest- 
ling with  them.  For  a  whole  day  they  career 
around  the  circuit  of  Ireland,  the  horses  endeavour- 
ing in  vain  to  throw  their  rider.  Henceforth  they 
are  his  obedient  chariot-horses,  a  grey  and  a  black, 
possibly  symbolizing  day  and  night.  After  his 
death  they  return  into  their  respective  lakes  again 
(G.  Henderson,  Feast  of  Bricrvu,  London,  1899, 
sec.  31,  p.  39  i.). 

5.  The  stories  relating  to  Ciichulainn  are  of 
different  ages,  and  often  vary  in  different  versions, 
the  long  tale  of  the  Tain  B6  Cualnge,  in  particular, 
having  come  down  to  us  in  two  (some  critics  would 
say  three)  main  recensions,  with  considerable 
variations  in  arrangement,  detail,  and  literary 
style.  Tdins,  or  '  cattle-raids,'  form  the  subject  of 
a  number  of  romances,  which  arose  naturally  out 
of  conditions  of  life  in  which  wealth  consisted  in 
the  possession,  not  of  land  or  money,  but  of  flocks 
and  nerds,  the  acquisition  of  which,  by  fair  means 
or  foul,  formed  one  of  the  chief  objects  of  every 
chief  or  person  of  position.  The  long  central  tale 
of  the  Tain  Bd  Cualnge,  or  Cattle  Spoil  of  Cualnge 
(pron.  Cooley),  i.e.  of  Ciichulainn's  country  in  Co. 
Louth  and  Down,  is  preceded  by  a  number  of  lesser 
tdins  and  short  stories  describing  the  efforts  of 
Queen  Meave  of  Connaught  to  collect  cattle  and 
other  provisions  for  her  army,  or  otherwise  elucidat- 
ing special  points  in  the  main  epic.  A  brief  outline 
of  this  composite  tale  is  as  follows  : 

The  war  was  undertaken  by  the  united  provinces  of  Ireland, 
under  the  leadership  of  the  Amazonian  Queen  Meave  (Medb)  of 
Connaught,  and  the  guidance  of  Fergus  mac  Roy  (or  Roich),  a 
former  king  of  Ulster,  who  had  been  deposed  in  favour  of  king 
Conor,  and  had  gone  into  exile  into  Connaught.  He  consented, 
out  of  revenge,  to  lead  the  foe  against  his  own  people. 

The  main  object  of  the  war  was  the  capture  of  the  Donn,  or 
Brown  Bull  of  Cualnge,  which  Meave  desired  to  possess,  but 
which  had  been  refused  her.  The  romance  takes  the  form  of  a 
number  of  separate  episodes — usually  combats  undertaken  by 
warriors  from  Meave's  army  contending  with  Cuchulainn,  who, 
alone  and  single-handed,  guards  the  bordersof  Ulster  during  the 
entire  winter.  The  warriors  and  men  of  Ulster  are  all  disabled 
from  fight  through  a  mysterious  sickness  brought  upon  them 
by  the  curse  of  Macha,  one  of  the  goddesses  of  war  ;  and  it  is  not 
until  the  close  of  the  Tdin  that  they  arise  from  their  lethargy 
and  come  down  in  force  to  fight  the  final  battle.  Meave  is  finally 
defeated  and  forced  to  fly  in  rout  across  the  Shannon  at  Athlone  ; 
but  the  Bull,  though  captured  by  her  and  driven  westward,  ends 
its  career  by  fighting  with  and  killing  Meave's  own  Bull,  the  Finn 
bennach,  and  finally  returns  to  its  own  country,  where  it  dies  by 
its  own  ferocious  energy. 

The  combat  of  Cuchulainn  and  Ferdiad  at  the  ford  of  Ath 
Perdiad  (Ardee)  forms  a  long  episode  in  the  story,  and  is  prob- 
ably in  its  expanded  (LL)  form  a  late  introduction. 

There  are  a  large  number  of  poeniB  in  this  episode  ;  others  are 
found  occasionally  in  the  remaining  portions  of  the  Tdin.  Some 
of  the  Ulster  prose  romances  contain  poems ;  others  do  not. 

6.  Among  the  more  important  of  the  stories 
relating  especially  to  the  career  and  deeds  of  the 
hero  Ciichulainn  are  the  following  : 

(1)  Cuchvlainn's  Birth  Stories.— Two  chief  variants  exist,  con- 
tained in  LU  (1100  a.d.)  and  in  Egerton,  17S2  B.M.  (15th  cent.). 
Considerable  differences  appear  not  only  in  the  details  of  these 
stones,  but  in  theirgeneral  meaning.  In  LU  a  wonderful  troop 
of  birds  comes  one  day  to  devastate  the  plains  of  Emain  Macha. 
King  Conor  (Conchobhar)  mounts  his  chariot  with  his  sister 
Dechtire  to  hunt  them.  They  pursue  them  till  nightfall  in  a 
storm  of  snow,  and  arrive  at  an  isolated  house,  inhabited  by  a 
man  and  woman.  The  woman  gives  birth  to  a  son,  who  is 
carried  by  Dechtire  to  Emain  Macha.  The  child  dies,  and  in  a 
vision  by  night  Lug  mac  Ethlenn  appears  to  Dechtire  and  tells 
her  the  child  who  had  died  was  himself,  that  it  was  he  who  had 
arranged  all  that  had  happened  to  her,  that  she  will  bear  a  child 
by  him,  and  that  he  will  be  himself  her  son.  Conor  bids  her 
marry  Sualtam  ;  she  becomes  whole  and  well  again,  and  obeys 
his  behest.  She  then  bears  a  child,  Setanta,  afterwards  called 
Cuchulainn.  In  a  discussion  which  follows,  the  babe  is  formally 
handed  over  to  the  charge  of  the  chief  bard  and  warriors  of 
lister  to  rear,  and  to  Finnchoem,  Dechtire's  sister,  to  foster. 

In  the  other  chief  version,  Dechtire  has  disappeared  for  three 
years  with  fifty  maidens  ;  they  return  as  birds  to  devastate  the 
plain  of  Emain  Macha.  Conor  and  his  warriors  follow  them. 
They  reach  a  hut,  which  expands  into  a  noble  house,  inhabited 
by  a  princely  young  man  and  woman.  They  learn  that  it  is  the 
house  of  Dechtire,  whom  they  do  not  recognize.  (The  young 
man  is  evidently  Lug.)     In  the  night  Dechtire  gives  birth  to  a 


boy  resembling  Conor.  He  is  called  Setanta.  The  house  seems 
to  represent  one  of  the  tumuli  on  the  Boyne,  thought  of  by  the 
people  as  fairy  haunts  or  dwellings  of  the  gods.  It  is  in  thia 
direction  that  the  birds  take  flight  (Windisch,  Jr.  Texte,  1. 
134-145,  text  only  ;  Summary  in  Nutt,  Voyage  of  Bran,  ii.  72-74) 

(2)  The  Courtship  of  Emer  describes  Ciichulainn's  wooing  of 
his  future  wife,  and  his  long  apprenticeship  to  arms  under 
Scathach,  the  Amazon  of  Alba  or  Britain  (other  versions  say 
'  Scythia,  east  of  the  Alps '  ;  Kuno  Meyer,  RCel  xi.  442-453,  and 
Arch.  Rev.  i.  [1888],  revised  for  E.  Hull's  Cuehullin  Saga, 
pp.  56-84).  There  exist  separate  versions  of  Ciichulainn's  edu- 
cation with  Scathach  (cf.  Whitley  Stokes,  RCel  xxix.  1908). 

(3)  The  Tragical  Death  ofConlaech  relates  Ciichulainn's  mortal 
combat  with  his  own  son  Conlaech,  or  Conla,  born  of  Aiff6  in 
Alba  after  Ciichulainn's  return  to  Ireland.  He  had  left  a  ring 
with  Aiff6  for  the  boy,  with  a  proviso  that  he  was  never  to  reveal 
his  name  to  any  stranger.  He  learns  only  when  the  youth  is 
dying  that  it  is  his  own  son  whom  he  has  killed.  The  story  has 
a  strong  resemblance  to  the  Persian  tale  of  Suhrab  and  Rustam 
(Eriu,  vol.  i.  pt.  i.  p.  113  ;  C.  Brooke,  Reliques  of  Irish  Poetry, 
Dublin,  1816,  p.  363,  metrical  version). 

(4)  The  Sickbed  or  Wasting  Away  of  Ciichulainn. — Cuchu- 
lainn deserts  Emer  for  Fand,  wife  of  Manannan,  who  in  a 
series  of  beautiful  poems  describes  the  glories  of  Magb  Mell, 
'  Plain  of  Happiness,'  the  invisible  Irish  Elysium,  and  woos  him 
thither.  A  dramatic  episode  at  the  close  of  the  tale  describes 
Emer's  attempted  revenge  and  the  contest  between  the  two 
women  for  his  affection.  The  tone  is  lofty  (Windisch,  Ir.  Texts, 
i.  197-234  [text  only];  O'Curry  in  Atlantis,  vols.  i.  and  ii.  ; 
Leahy,  Old  Irish  Romances,  i.  61  [Eng.  tr.] ;  Thurneysen,  Sagen 
aus  dein  alten  Irland,  81). 

(5)  Bricriu's  Feast. — This  is  a  long  rambling  tale  founded  on 
the  motif  of  a  contest  for  priority  and  for  the  carving  of  the 
'  Champion's  Bit'  (ed.  George  Henderson,  for  Irish  Texts  Soc., 
vol.  ii.,  1899;  Windisch,  Ir.  Texte,  i.  254-303). 

Tales  connected  with  the  death  of  Cuchulainn  and  the  events 
immediately  preceding  and  succeeding  it  are  :  the  Great  Rout 
of  Magh  Muirthemne  (S.  H.  O'Grady  in  E.  Hull's  Cuehullin 
Saga),  Ciichulainn's  Death  (Whitley  Stokes,  RCel  iii.  175-185), 
the  Red  Rout  of  Conall  Cernach,  the  Lay  of  the  Heads,  and 
Emer's  Death.  The  events  leading  to  his  death  form  the  subject 
of  the  long  tale  entitled  the  *  Battle  of  Rossnaree '  (Edmund 
Hogan,  Roy.  Ir.  Acad.,  Todd  Lectures,  vol.  iv.,  1S92).  . 

All  accounts  agree  in  making  Cuchulainn  die 
young.  The  Ann.  Tigh.  place  his  age  at  17, — the 
usual  account, — but  MS  H.  3,17,  in  the  Library  of 
Trin.  Coll.  DubL,  says  :  '  The  year  of  the  Tain  was 
the  59th  of  Cuchulainn's  age  from  the  night  of  his 
birth  to  the  night  of  his  death.'  The  actual  be- 
heading of  Cuchulainn  is  variously  ascribed  to 
Lugaid,  son  of  Curoi,  whose  father  Cuchulainn  had 
slain  by  treachery,  with  the  aid  of  Ciiroi's  adulter- 
ous wife  Blathnait,  and  to  Ere,  son  of  Cairpre,  or 
Cairbre  niafer,  who  had  been  slain  in  the  battle  of 
Rossnaree.  In  a  poem  by  Cinaeth  O'Hartigan 
(ob.  975),  in  the  Book  of  Ballymote,  we  read  : 
*  Erc's  mount,  whence  is  its  name  ? — Ere  was  sou 
of  Cairpre  niafer,  son  of  Ros  ruadh,  king  of  Laighen 
(Leinster).  It  was  Ere  who  cut  his  head  oft*  Cuchu- 
lainn.1 In  revenge  for  this  deed,  Conall  cernach 
killed  Ere,  and  brought  his  head  to  Tara.  It  is 
said  that  his  sister  Acaill,  who  came  out  of  Ulster 
to  lament  her  brother,  grieved  so  sorely  for  his 
death  that  her  heart  burst  within  her.  A  pathetic 
lament  for  her  is  cited  by  O'Curry  (MS  Mat.,  Ap- 
pendix, p.  514).  The  battle  of  Muirthemne,  in 
which  Cuchulainn  fell,  was  inspired  by  revenge  for 
the  deaths  of  Calatin,  Curoi  mac  Daire,  king  of 
Munster,  and  Cairpre.  It  was  led  by  the  sons  of 
the  slaughtered  men. 

The  Phantom  Chariot  of  Cuchulainn. — This  is  a  curious  piece, 
in  which  the  old  hero  is  summoned  from  the  dead  to  testify  to 
the  truth  of  St.  Patrick's  teaching  before  Leary,  king  of  Ireland. 
He  appears  before  the  king- in  his  old  form  and  splendour,  per- 
forming his  '  champion  feats,'  and  beseeching  the  king  to  receive 
Christianity  (O'Beirne  Crowe,  Journ.  of  the  Kilkenny  Arch.  Soc, 
4th  series,  1870-71). 

Among  other  tales  relating  directly  to  Cuchulainn 
are  the  following : 

(1)  Tdin  B6  Regamna,  or  appearance  of  the  Morrigu,  the  Irish 
goddess  of  war,  to  the  hero  before  the  war  of  the  Tain,  to  fore- 
tell her  own  intention  to  take  part  against  him  (ed.  Windisch, 
Ir.  Texte,  II.  ii.  241-254  [with  tr.]). 

(2)  Siege  of  Howth,  relating  the  extortions  and  cruelties  prac- 
tised by  Athairne,  chief  bard  of  Ulster,  on  the  Leinster  men, 
and  the  revenge  taken  by  Leinster  in  shutting  up  the  defeated 
remnant  of  the  Ulster  warriors  on  the  hill  of  Howth  (ed.  Whitley 
Stokes,  in  RCel  viii.  49-03). 

(3)  The  Intoxication  of  the  XTltonians,  describing  a  night-raid 
made  by  the  warriors  of  Ulster  when  in  a  state  of  intoxication, 
right  across  Ireland,  into  the  territory  of  their  enemy  Curoi  mac 
Daire  of  Tara-Luachra  in  Kerry,  rand  the  efforts  of  Curoi  to 


CULDEES 


357 


destroy  them  by  persuading:  them  to  enter  an  iron  house  encased 
in  wood,  which  had  beneath  it  a  subterranean  chamber  ntted 
with  inflammable  materials  (cf.  Branwen,  daughter  of  Llyr,  in 
the  Mabinogion,  and  '  the  Destruction  of  Dind  High '  led.  Whitley 
Stokes  in  ZCP  iii.]).  The  warriors  escape  by  Cuchulainn's  im- 
mense strength  ;  he  breaks  through  the  walls  and  lets  them  out 
(Mesca  triad,  ed.  W.  M.  Hennessy,  Roy.  Ir.  Acad.,  Todd 
Lecture  Series,  i.,  London,  18S9). 
See,  further,  artt.  Celts  and  Ethics  (Celtic). 

Literature. — A  large  number  of  the  tales  will  be  found  with 
text  and  Eng.  or  Germ.  tr.  in  Wiadisch-Stokes,  Irische  Texte, 
Leipzig,  1880  ff.  ;  the  numbers  of  the  RCel ;  Atlantis  (ed. 
by  O'Curry),  and  Kilkenny  Archozol.  Journ.  (which  contains 
some  tales  edited  by  O'Beirne  Crowe);  Proc.  Royal  Ir.  Acad., 
Irish  MSS  Series,  and  Todd  Lecture  Series  ;  the  ZCP  ;  Eriu,  the 
Journal  of  the  Irish  School  of  Learning  ;  Irish  Texts  Soc.  vol.  ii.  ; 
Archaeological  Review,  vol.  i. ;  Ossianic  Soc.  vol.  v.  ;  A?iec. 
Oxon.,  Mediaval  and  Mod.  Series,  etc.  The  Tdin  B6  Cualnge 
has  been  published  from  the  Book  of  Leinster  version  by  E. 
Windisch,  with  Germ,  tr.,  Leipzig,  1905  ;  text  (only)  of  version 
from  the  Yellow  Bk.  of  Lecan  and  Leabhar  na  h  Uidhre,  in  Eriu, 
vol.  i.  pts.  2  and  3,  ed.  by  Strachan  and  O'Keeffe,  Dublin,  1904, 
etc.  ;  tr.  (only)  from  same  MSS  by  L.  Winifred  Faraday,  The 
Cattle  Raid  of  Cualgne,  London,  1904  ;  Eng.  trs.  from  Add.  MS 
18748,  Brit.  Mus.,  by  S.  H.  O'Grady  in  Eleanor  Hull's  The 
Cuchullin  Saga,  London,  1898,  pp.  110-227. 

English  trs.  of  a  large  number  of  complete  romances  will  be 
found  in  E.  Hull's  Cuchullin  Saga,  with  chart  of  the  tales  and  re- 
ferences ;  also  A.  H.  Leahy,  Heroic  Romances  of Ireland,2vola., 
1905,  and  The  Courtship^of  Ferb,  London,  1902 ;  German  trs.  in  R. 
Thurneysen,  Sagen  aus  dem  alien  Irland,  Berlin,  1901;  French 
trs.  in  H.  d'Arbois  de  Jubainville,  Epopie  celtioue  en  Irlande, 
Paris,  1892.  Portions  of  tales  in  E.  O'Curry,  MS  Mat.  of  anc. 
Irish  History,  Dublin,  1861,  and  Manners  and  Customs  of  the 
Ancient  Irish,  3  vols.,  London,  1873  ;  J.  Rhys,  Celtic  Heathen- 
dom  (Hib.  Lect.),  London,  1886;  Nutt-Meyer,  Voyage  of  Bran, 
2  vols.,  London,  1895-97.  Lady  Gregory  gives  a  free  rendering 
of  the  stories  in  her  Cuchulain  of  Muirthemne ;  see  also  D. 
Hyde,  The  Story  of  Early  Gaelic  Lit.,  London,  1895,  and  Lit. 
Hist,  of  Ireland,  London,  1899;  E.  Hull,  Text-book  of  IrUh 
Literature,  2  vols.,  Dublin  and  London,  1906-190S.  For  manners 
and  customs,  see  P.  W.  Joyce,  Social  History  of  Ancie?it  Ire- 
land, 2  vols., London,  1903,  and  O'Curry,  Manners  and  Customs 
(as  above).  ELEANOR  HULL. 

CULDEES.— The  Culdees  belong  to  the  later 
history  of  the  ancient  British  Church  (see  art. 
Church  [British],  vol.  iii.  p.  631),  more  especi- 
ally in  Ireland  and  Scotland.  The  mystery  in 
which  they  were  enveloped  has  been  to  a  great 
degree  removed  through  the  researches  of  Dr. 
William  Reeves,  published  as  an  essay  '  On  the 
Cele  de,  commonly  called  Culdees'  (Trans.  Boy. 
Ir.  Acad.  xxiv.  [1873]).  The  term  'Culdee'  has 
grown  out  of  the  form  Culdeus,  first  coined  by 
Hector  Boece  in  his  Scotorum  Historian,  1526  (for 
tvord  'Culdee,'  see  OED,  s.v.).  The  Irish  name 
die  di  (mod.  Ir.  ciile  di)  corresponds  with  the 
probably  Irish  origin  of  the  Culdees.  The 
primary  meaning  of  the  common  word  die  is 
'  companion,'  from  which  secondary  meanings  are 
derived,  such  as  'husband,'  'servant.'  Cile  Con- 
chobair,  die  Conculaind,  found  in  the  texts  of  the 
old  heroic  tales  of  Ireland,  mean  '  faithful  follower 
or  personal  attendant  of  Conchobhar,  or  Cuchulainn ' 
(see  H.  Zimmer,  Celtic  Church,  Eng.  tr.,  London, 
1902,  p.  98  ff.).  Cile  di,  therefore,  will  mean  '  com- 
panion or  faithful  servant  of  God.'  The  special 
difficulty  is  to  account  for  the  restriction  of  a  term 
having  this  meaning,  and  obviously  applicable  to 
all  monks  and  anchorites  as  servants  of  God,  to 
the  comparatively  few  cases  in  which  it  is  found.1 

There  is  no  mention  of  the  die  di  in  the  histo- 
rians Adamnan,  Cumin,  Eddi,  or  Bede  ;  and  the  in- 
ference is  that  the  use  of  the  term  was  unknown  to 
them.  Reeves  says  we  may  safely  regard  die  di 
as  the  Irish  translation  of  servus  Dei,  which  came 
to  be  an  ordinary  term  in  Church  writers  for 
monks,  and  became  known  to  the  Irish  through 
the  writings  of  Gregory  the  Great,  who  was  a 
favourite  author  in  Ireland.  Skene  (Celtic  Scot- 
land2, 1887,  ii.  226 ff.)  endeavours  to  prove  that 
Deicola  had  the  express  meaning  of  'anchorite,' 
that  the  die  di  were  anchorites,  and  consequently 

1  A  striking  parallel  in  Welsh  to  cile  de"  is  the  common  word 
for  'hermit' — meudwy.  Meu  is  from  the  root  mag,  which  ap- 
pears in  Cornish  as  maw,  '  boy ' ;  -dwy  is  for  the  older  duiu, 
genitive  of  din,  modern  Welsh  duw,  'God.' 


that  the  Irish  name  was  the  direct  derivation  of 
Deicolae  or  Colidei.  The  objection  to  both  of  these 
theories  is  the  specialized  use  of  the  term  cile  di ; 
had  it  been  applicable  to  monks  and  anchorites  in 
general,  why  is  it  not  found  in  the  pages  of  the 
8th  cent,  historians,  whose  concern  was  with  a 
monastic  Church  ? 

There  is  no  contemporary  account  preserved  of 
the  rise  of  the  Culdees  ;  our  sources  are  incidental 
and  of  late  date.1  According  to  the  Books  of 
Leinster  and  Lismore,  St.  Moling,  who  founded  the 
monastery  of  Tech  Moling  in  County  Carlow, 
entered  a  society  of  Culdees.  He  died  c.  A.D.  700  ; 
and,  if  he  was  a  Culdee,  he  is,  along  with  St. 
Mochuda,  among  the  earliest  whose  names  are 
on  record.  In  the  manner  of  the  Iro-Scottish 
Church,  the  Culdee  societies  were  often  composed 
of  thirteen  members — the  Prior,  or  Head  (Cenn),  or 
Abbot,  with  twelve  others,  on  the  analogy  of  Christ 
and  His  disciples.  In  very  late  times  we  find  in 
Armagh  a  Prior  and  Jive2  brethren  (probably  a 
diminution  in  number,  due  to  hostile  pressure). 

The  Culdees,  throughout  their  history,  are  con- 
nected with  a  few  definite  localities,  although  in 
some  cases  the  evidence  is  the  mere  mention  of  the 
name  in  the  chartulary  of  a  monastery.  At  first 
having  the  marks  of  anchorites,  they  gradually 
take  on  the  appearance  of  secular  canons.  The 
Rule  of  Maelruan  (died  c.  791)  bears  the  descrip- 
tion '  Here  begins  the  Rule  of  the  Cele  de.'  It  is 
preserved  in  the  Leabhar  Breac.  As  it  stands,  its 
orthography  and  grammar  prove  it  to  be  centuries 
later  than  the  8th  cent.,  but  its  original  may  go 
back  to  Maelruan.  During  Maelruan's  lifetime  (in 
A.D.  747),  Chrodegang  composed  at  Metz  the  Rule 
which  formed  his  clergy  into  canons  ;  and  this 
Rule  may  have  been  brought  into  Ireland  from 
Irish  establishments  on  the  Continent,  such  as 
Honau  in  Elsass.  The  Culdees  certainly  develop 
the  appearance  of  secular  canons  ;  we  find  them  fill- 
ing a  subordinate  '  Levitical '  position  in  cathedral 
establishments,  chiefly  engaged  in  the  choral  parts 
of  the  worship  ;  they  became  especially  associated 
also  with  charitable  care  of  the  sick  and  poor,  and 
the  distribution  of  alms.  The  latter  seems  to  have 
been  one  of  their  earliest  and  most  characteristic 
traits.3  The  endowments  for  these  purposes  may 
have  proved  a  means  of  their  later  corruption. 
Their  affinity  with  the  regular  canons  enabled  the 
latter,  with  the  support  of  powerful  patrons,  to 
oust  them  from  their  positions.  Finally,  they  dis- 
appeared ;  in  St.  Andrews,  e.g.,  they  are  named  for 
the  last  time  in  1332. 

The  only  mention  of  the  Culdees  in  England  is  in 
connexion  with  Athelstan's  visit  to  York  in  A.D. 
936  ( Colidei) ;  there  is  also  a  possible  reference  in 
the  cultores  clerici  of  a  Privilege  by  King  Ethelred 
granted  to  Canterbury  (Cotton  MSS).  In  Wales 
they,  presumably,  appear  once  in  a  reference  by 
Giraldus  Cambrensis  to  the  '  Coelibes  vel  Colideos ' 
of  the  Isle  of  Bardsey  in  the  12th  cent.  (Gir.  Camb. 
vol.  vi.  p.  124,  Rolls  Series). 

Reeves  sees  in  the  Culdees  the  disappearing 
Celtic  Church ;  the  Culdees  are  the  drooping 
remnant  in  which  that  ancient  Church  finally 
succumbs.  The  present  writer  prefers  to  see  in 
them  not  an  inert  residue,  but  a  recrudescence,  a 
burst  into  flame  of  the  old  Celtic  religion,  stimu- 

IThe  earliest  known  instance  of  the  combination  cile  di 
(though  not  in  its  technical  sense  of  '  Culdee ')  is  in  the  gloss 
to  the  commentary  on  the  Psalms  ascribed  to  Columba  of 
Bobbio,  preserved  in  the  Old  Irish  Cod.  Mediolanensis  (about 
850  a.d.  ;  ed.  AbcoH,  Codice  irlandese  dell'  Ambrosiana,  Rome, 
1878,  fol.  30  c,  3).  Here  the  Vulg.  cuius  (Dei)  iste  est  is  first  ex- 
plained as  equivalent  to  'iste  ad  ilium  pertinet,' and  is  then 
glossed  :  amal  asmberar  is  cele  dee  infer  hisin,  '  as  it  is  said, 
"  This  man  is  a  servant  of  God." ' 

2  Von  Pflugk-Hartung  ('  Die  Kuldeer '  in  Ztschr.  f.  Kirchen- 
gesch.  xiv.  [1894])  erroneously  says  fifteen. 

3  As  to  this  point,  see  especially  Grant,  'The  Culdees.' 
Scottish  Review,  1888,  p.  217ff. 


358 


CULTURE 


lated  perhaps  by  conflict  with  the  rival  Roman 
institution.  The  honourable  title  cile  di  comes 
from  the  people,  as  its  native  form  shows ;  and  it 
must  have  been  elicited  at  the  sight  of  special 
devotion  and  piety.  A  revival  of  religion  at  some 
given  period,  and  not  decay,  is  implied. 

Literature.— This  is  sufficiently  indicated  throughout  the 
article.  T.  JONES  PARRY. 

CULT,  CULTUS.— See  Religion,  Worship. 

CULTURE.— To  Bacon  the  world  is  indebted 
for  the  term,  as  well  as  for  the  philosophy  of,  culture 
[Adv.  of  Learning,  1605,  II.  xix.  2).  While  of 
itself  the  notion  of  culture  may  be  broad  enough 
to  express  all  forms  of  spiritual  life  in  man, — 
intellectual,  religious,  ethical, — it  is  best  under- 
stood intensively  as  humanity's  effort  to  assert 
its  inner  and  independent  being.  This  effort  is 
observed  in  a  series  of  contrasts,  due  to  the  division 
of  man's  functions  into  intellectual  and  activistic. 
The  most  general  contrast  is  that  between  nature 
and  spirit,  with  its  dualism  of  animality  and 
humanity.  With  the  ideal  of  culture,  man  is  led 
to  live  a  life  of  contemplation  rather  than  one  of 
conquest,  while  his  attention  is  directed  towards 
the  remote  rather  than  towards  the  immediate. 
Viewed  socially,  culture  is  contrasted  with  in- 
dustrial occupation,  the  two  differing  in  their 
valuation  of  work.  From  the  social  standpoint, 
again,  the  culturist  inclines  towards  egoism,  as  in 
a  'culte  du  moi'  (Maurice  Barres),  instead  of 
towards  altruism.  In  estimating  the  value  of 
culture,  the  standard  is  usually  the  eudsemonistic 
one :  it  is  asked  whether  the  life  of  thinking  or 
the  life  of  doing  is  better  calculated  to  give  man 
happiness,  or  to  satisfy  the  desires  of  the  soul. 
The  treatment  of  the  culture-problem  is  to  be 
conducted  in  connexion  with  the  culture-con- 
sciousness of  an  individual  or  a  nation,  rather  than 
by  means  of  any  objective  memorial,  like  an  order 
of  architecture,  a  type  of  sculpture,  or  a  school  of 
poetry  or  painting.  Such  an  introverting  method 
is  qualified  to  express  the  essence  of  Classicism 
and  Romanticism, — the  two  types  of  Western 
culture-activity, — just  as  it  is  sufficient  to  discern 
the  culture-motive  in  a  man  of  genius,  like 
Michelangelo  or  Goethe.  That  which  culture 
seeks  is  an  acquaintance  with  the  strivings  and 
ideals  of  a  favoured  nation  and  a  gifted  soul. 

I.  History  of  culture-consciousness.— Not 
until  the  dawn  of  modern  times  was  the  supremacy 
of  intellectualism  called  in  question,  or  the  prob- 
lem of  culture  raised.  Brahmanism  postulated 
enlightenment  as  the  means  of  salvation  ;  Paganism 
looked  to  the  intellect  to  give  man  happiness ; 
Scholasticism  pledged  its  belief  in  conceptual 
doctrines.  It  is  true  that  the  Preacher  of  the  Old 
Testament  bewailed  much  study  and  the  endless 
making  of  books,  in  the  fear  that  the  increase  of 
knowledge  was  the  increase  of  sorrow  (Ec  l18), 
while  Stoicism  sought  to  turn  from  dialectics  to 
ethics ;  nevertheless,  humanity  waited  until  the 
coming  of  modern  times  before  it  directly  re- 
pudiated its  intellectual  life.  Although  the  term 
modernus  was  introduced  in  the  6th  cent,  by 
Cassiodorus  ( Variarum,  iv.  51),  and  used  effectively 
by  Roger  Bacon  (Eucken,  Gesch.  der  philosopk. 
Terminologie,  Leipzig,  1879,  p.  169),  modernness  in 
the  form  of  culture-consciousness  was  not  expressed 
until  Francis  Bacon  inquired  concerning  the  nature 
and  advantages  of  letters.  His  professed  aim  in 
the  Advancement  of  Learning  being  to  fashion  a 
perfect  'globe  of  knowledge'  (II.  xxv.),  he  prepared 
the  way  for  this  by  arguments  drawn  from  sources 
sacred  and  secular. 

Biblical  tradition  informs  us  that  the  day  on  which  God 
rested  and  '  contemplated  his  own  works '  was  blessed-  above 
the  six  days  of  labour,  while  the  primary  work  of  man  in  the 


Garden  of  Eden  wag  intellectual,  in  that  it  consisted  in  viewing 
and  naming  God's  creatures.  Moses  was  praised  for  his 
Egyptian  learning  ;  Solomon  for  his  wisdom ;  while  the  advent 
of  the  Saviour  witnessed  the  subduing  of  ignorance  among  the 
doctors  of  the  law ;  and  the  descent  of  the  Spirit  was  expressed 
by  the  gift  of  tongues,  '  which  are  but  vehicula  seientiae.' 
With  Apostles  and  Fathers  the  same  intellectualism  prevailed 
(ib.  I.  vi.).  As  to  human  proofs,  mythology  shows  how  founders 
of  States  were  but  demi-gods,  while  inventors  of  new  arts  were 
among  the  gods  themselves  ;  moreover,  ancient  history  reveals 
the  superiority  of  such  thinkers  as  Socrates,  Aristotle,  Cicero, 
over  their  contemporaries  Senophon,  Alexander,  Cfflsar 
(ib.  vii.). 

Bacon's  own  estimate  of  culture,  while  often  ex- 
pressed so  as  to  show  the  greater  'dignity'  of 
thought,  seems  to  consist  of  eudsemonism,  inasmuch 
as  it  extols  learning  for  its  power  to  please — to 
promote,  indeed,  the  interests  of  the  suavissima 
vita  (ib.  viii.  2,  etc.).  The  Novum  Organum  (1620) 
asserts,  not  '  Knowledge  is  pleasure,'  but  '  Scientia 
est  potentia ' ;  its  aim  was  to  indicate  man's 
ability  to  rule  by  means  of  knowledge,  so  that, 
instead  of  emphasizing  the  sesthetical  in  culture, 
it  tended  to  surrender  the  latter  to  industrialism. 
With  such  a  presentation  of  the  culture-problem, 
and  the  accompanying  emphasis  upon  the  'work 
of  contemplation,'  Bacon,  who  was  a  Renaissance 
thinker,  made  possible  the  three-fold  development 
of  modern  intellectual  life  in  the  ages  of  En- 
lightenment (1625-1789),  of  Romanticism  (1781- 
1857),  of  Realism  (1857-present  day). 

i.  The  Enlightenment. — On  the  aesthetic  side, 
the  Enlightenment  fostered  Classicism,  although 
its  own  rationalistic  spirit,  political  earnestness, 
and  relentless  criticism  of  religion  removed  it 
from  the  influences  of  the  Graces.  In  its  own 
way,  the  Enlightenment  developed  a  static -system 
of  natural  religion  (Herbert),  of  natural  rights 
(Grotius),  as  also  a  naturalistic  system  of  ethics 
(Hobbes)  and  of  knowledge  (Locke).  Spinoza 
expressed  the  spirit  of  the  age  when  he  declared 
the  highest  motive  in  man  to  be  rational  and 
disinterested  love  of  God  ('  amor  Dei  intellectuals ' 
[Ethica,  1677,  V.  xxxii.]). 

This  blind  rationalism,  however,  was  destined  to 
undergo  repudiation,  and  in  the  Counter-Enlighten- 
ment of  Rousseau,  Vico,  Lessing,  and  Herder  the 
culture-problem  was  rehabilitated.  Where  Bacon 
had  had  behind  him  the  free  asstheticism  of  the 
Renaissance,  Rousseau  was  confronted  by  the 
formal  culture  of  Classicism,  whose  raffinements 
he  felt  called  upon  to  denounce.  Taking  a  stand 
at  once  eudsemonistic  and  socialistic,  he  declared 
that  unhappiness  and  injustice  were  attributable 
to  man's  departure  from  nature.  This  was  the 
theme  of  his  Discours  sur  les  sciences  et  les  arts 
(1750),  where  he  discussed  the  question  whether 
the  establishment  of  culture  had  been  for  man's 
well-being — only  to  conclude  negatively,  on  the 
ground  that  art  and  science  weaken  the  original 
virtues  of  humanity.  In  his  Discours  sur  Vorigine 
et  les  fondements  ae  VinigalitC  parmi  les  liommes 
(1753),  his  view  is  social  rather  than  eudsemonistic, 
inasmuch  as  he  attributes  injustice  to  the  in- 
tellectualistic  programme,  which,  involving  the 
more  rapid  advance  of  some  beyond  others,  had 
brought  about  inequality  even  where  it  had 
furthered  the  progress  of  impersonal  science  and 
art.  Hence  the  maxim,  '  Betournons  a  la  nature.' 
La  nouvelle  SClo'ise  (1761)  breathes  a  yearning  for 
the  idyllic  condition  of  man's  nature-life,  while 
Emile  (1762)  deduces  a  system  of  education  which, 
recognizing  that  man  cannot  return  to  nature  and 
abide  there,  advises  a  natural  method  of  mental 
development,  a  restoration  of  nature  to  man  rather 
than  a  return  of  man  to  nature. 

Where  Bacon  and  Rousseau  had  considered  the 
practical  worth  of  culture  for  individual  happiness 
and  social  well-being,  Vico  and  Herder  sought  to 
show  how  essential  to  humanity  is  an  ever- 
enlarging  mental  life  which,  if  based  upon  nature., 


CULTURE 


359 


advances  beyond  it.  Vico's  Scienza  nuova  (1725) — 
a  work  at  least  half  a  century  in  advance  of  its 
age — postulated  the  ideal  of  a  unified  humanity, 
whose  organic  nature,  as  conceived  by  Vico, 
contrasted  strikingly  and  pleasantly  with  the 
mechanical  views  of  society  peculiar  to  the  En- 
lightenment. Vico,  who  discovered  that  primitive 
language  and  literature  are  poetical,  describes  the 
developing  culture-consciousness  of  the  race  by 
distinguishing  three  periods — mythological,  heroic, 
Human — wherein  are  found  three  kinds  of  language, 
as  also  three  ideals  of  social  life. 

Lessing,  who  barely  escaped  the  rationalism  of 
the  Enlightenment,  relaxed  sufficiently  to  produce 
his  booklet,  Erziehung  des  Menschengeschlechts 
(1780,  tr.  Robertson4,  1896),  wherein  the  religious 
consciousness  is  conceived  of  as  a  Divine  revela- 
tion, unfolding  its  intellectual  nature  in  such  a 
way  as  to  evince  the  ideas  of  God  as  a  unity,  and 
the  soul  as  immortal.  While  Lessing  carries  on 
his  discussion  in  a  humanistic  fashion,  he  does  not 
fail  to  emphasize  the  rationalistic  element  embodied 
in  the  revelation  of  God  and  the  soul  as  ideas. 
Herder's  Ideen  zur  Philos.  der  Gesch.  der  Menschheit 
(1790-1792)  involves  Lessing's  ideas  of  progress 
and  Vico's  ideal  of  humanity  as  one,  while  itself 
isolating  the  idea  of  Humanitdts-Bildung.  The 
peculiarity  of  Herder's  work  is  that  in  it  the 
culture-concept  operates  in  a  naturalistic  manner, 
involving  the  notion  of  a  continuity  of,  rather  than 
a  conflict  between,  the  natural  below  and  the 
spiritual  above,  whereby  the  inner  life  of  humanity 
is  developed  from  the  outer  order  of  things. 
Herder  introduces  certain  stages  of  development 
from  nature-peoples  to  culture-peoples,  and  thus 
tends  to  make  his  plan  more  plausible. 

The  rationalism  that  had  marked  the  early 
Enlightenment  was  reproduced  in  the  ideals  of 
Classicism,  although  the  organization  of  aesthetical 
science  by  Burke  and  Baumgarten  tended  to  soften 
its  conceptualism.  The  significance  of  Classicism 
was  apprehended  by  Winckelmann,  who  found  in 
it  the  exaltation  of  reason  and  the  idealization 
of  beauty ;  and,  in  his  mind,  classic  con- 
sciousness expressed  the  free  rather  than  the 
characteristic,  the  static  rather  than  the  dynamic. 
In  this  spirit,  he  frames  his  memorable  definition 
of  beauty :  '  According  to  this  notion,  beauty 
should  be  like  the  purest  water,  which,  the  less 
taste  it  has,  is  regarded  as  the  most  healthful 
because  it  is  free  from  foreign  elements'  (Werke, 
Dresden,  1808-25,  bk.  iv.  ch.  ii.  §  23).  Winckelmann 
thus  seeks  to  express  the  classic  ideal  as  a  purely 
intellectual  and  formal  one,  which  will  appear  in 
connexion  with  two  other  utterances  almost  as 
famous  as  the  above  appreciation  of  the  classic. 
In  the  one  he  praises  the  simplicity  of  classic 
beauty  as  a  rare  wine  drunk  from  a  transparent 
glass  (ib.  §  19) ;  in  the  other  he  likens  the  antique 
ideal  of  beauty  to  a  spirit  drawn  from  the  material 
order  as  by  fire  (ib.  §  22).  Lessing's  Laokoon 
(1766) — its  very  title  pledging  it  to  Classicism — 
exalts  the  ideal  of  Apollo  by  limiting  art  and 
culture  to  the  beautiful.  This  aesthetic  reason  is 
given  to  explain  why  Laokoon  does  not  scream, 
although  Lessing,  in  styling  his  work  '  an  essay  on 
the  limits  of  poetry  and  painting,'  was  aware  that 
in  plastic  the  idea  of  the  temporal  and  changing 
is  out  of  place.  With  the  appearance  of  Kant's 
Critique  of  Pure  Reason  (1781)  and  the  French 
Revolution  (1789),  the  Enlightenment  was  virtually 
ended,  although  its  effect  did  not  at  once  pass 
away. 

2.  Romanticism. — The  age  of  culture  began  as 
Kant  emerged  from  rationalism,  and  by  means  of 
philosophic  criticism  transcended  the  conceptual 
views  of  the  Enlightenment.  In  the  Critique, 
Kant    used   the   term   '  culture '  when    he    said : 


'Metaphysics  is  the  completion  of  the  whole 
culture  of  reason'  (Miiller's  tr.2,  New  York,  1896, 
p.  730)  ;  yet  it  was  the  Critique  of  Judgment 
(1790)  which,  by  means  of  its  new  aesthetic  norms, 
was  destined  to  take  its  place  in  the  history  of 
culture.  Kant's  theory  of  beauty  and  taste,  as 
'  that  which  pleases  universally  without  requiring 
a  concept'  (Bernard's  tr.  1892,  p.  67),  expresses  the 
nature  of  culture  as  the  intellectual  life  of  man 
apprehended  intuitively.  Kant's  intellectualism, 
far  more  original  and  valuable  than  his  moralism, 
is  thus  expressed  in  a  system  of  transcendentalism ; 
and  it  was  this  transcendental  element  that  affected 
the  romantic  school  of  philosophy  and  poetry. 

Schiller,  alive  to  the  intellectualistic  in  Kant, 
was  not  unaffected  by  his  heroic  and  relentless 
moralism,  which  he  glorified  in  his  essay  Ueber 
Anmuth  u.  Wiirde  (1793),  although  here  he  seeks 
to  transcend  both  Goethean  grace  of  sense  and 
Kantian  dignity  of  ethics,  by  means  of  the  ideal 
of  humanity  as  the  '  Zusammenstimmung  zwischen 
dem  Sittliehen  und  Sinnlichen '  ( Werke,  ed.  Hempel, 
1868-74,  xv.  213).  Schiller's  use  of  the  term  'Kultur' 
is  confined  almost  exclusively  to  the  Brief e  uber  die 
aesthet.  Erziehung  des  Menschen  (1795),  where  he 
comments  on  the  harmonious  culture  of  the  Greeks 
(Let.  vi.),  distinguishes  theoretical,  practical,  and 
sesthetieal  forms  (Lett,  ix.-x.),  and  discusses  the 
practical  value  of  culture  (Let.  xxi.).  Believing 
that  the  end  of  human  existence  is  to  be  con- 
ceived ethically,  and  yet  realizing  that  man  is  by 
nature  a  creature  of  sense,  Schiller  seeks  to  account 
for  the  culture,  or  aesthetic  education,  of  mankind 
by  distinguishing  three  stages — physical,  aestheti- 
cal, and  moral  (Let.  xxiv.).  Thus,  in  achieving 
his  moral  destiny,  man  uses  the  aesthetical  as  the 
mean  and  mediator  between  the  extremes  of  the 

Ehysical  and  the  ethical,  urges  Schiller,  just  as 
lessing  had  sought  to  account  for  the  rational 
education  of  man  by  means  of  religion.  Schiller's 
confidence  in  culture,  as  expressed  in  the  Aesthet. 
Bildung,  seems  to  abate  somewhat  in  his  Essay 
Uber  naive  und  sentimentalische  Dichtung  (1796), 
where,  like  Rousseau,  whom  he  mentions  ap- 
provingly (Werke,  xv.  506),  he  signalizes  a  return 
to  nature,  or  the  naive — a  term  of  special  signi- 
ficance with  the  French  (ib.  487).  'Sentimental' 
is  borrowed  from  the  English  of  Sterne,  whom  also 
Schiller  does  not  fail  to  mention  (ib.  480).  The 
evils,  rather  than  the  benefits,  of  culture  are  dis- 
cussed in  this  study  of  culture-types  (ib.  483),  and 
the  whole  essay,  praising  antiquity  for  its  objective 
naivete',  values  the  sentimental  only  as  it  sincerely 
seeks  nature.  The  distinction  between  naive  and 
sentimental  forms  of  culture  is  based  upon  nature ; 
hence  Schiller  says  :  '  The  poet  either  is  nature  or 
he  seeks  her.  One  makes  a  naive  poet,  the  other 
a  sentimental  one'  (ib.  492).  Genius  consists  in 
naiveU,  and  only  as  the  genius  is  naive  can  he 
exist  (ib.  479).  Homer  among  the  ancients  and 
Shakespeare  among  moderns  are  esteemed  naive 
poets,  because  they  apprehended  nature  immedi- 
ately (ib.  488).  Upon  the  cultural  basis  of  naive 
and  sentimental,  Schiller  distinguishes  three  forms 
of  poetry— idyllic,  satirical,  and  elegiac.  Idyllic 
poetry  is  of  the  naive  order,  because  it  expresses 
the  immediate  sense  of  nature  in  the  feeling  of 
joy.  'The  poet  is  satirical  when  he  takes  as  his 
subject  the  alienation  of  man  from  nature,  and  the 
contradiction  between  the  real  and  ideal '  (ib.  497). 
Where  satire  is  sharp,  elegiac  poetry  is  sad,  being 
the  poet's  lament  over  the  loss  of  nature  in  an 
age  of  culture.  While  Schiller  seems  to  condemn 
culture  and  modernness,  while  he  appears  to  pos- 
tulate paganism  as  the  true  life  of  humanity,  he  is 
careful  to  express  the  thought  that  above  both 
naive  and  sentimental  there  is  a  third  form  of  in- 
I  tellectual  life  to  be  viewed  as  ideal  culture,  which 


360 


CULTURE 


shall  have  power  to  restore  to  humanity  its  lost 
unity  (ib.  492  f.). 

As  prophet  of  the  Romantic  School,  Friedrich 
Schlegel  felt  the  force  of  Kant's  transcendentalism, 
but  was  more  inclined  to  base  his  culture  upon  the 
Ego  of  Fichte,  and,  while  he  appreciated  Schiller's 
aesthetics  of  the  naive,  he  himself  showed  a  dis- 
position to  adopt  the  sentimental,  or  romantic, 
culture  of  the  infinite.  In  Schlegel's  mind,  Goethe's 
Wilhelm  Meister,  the  French  Revolution,  and 
Fichte's  Wissenschaftslehre  were  the  three  greatest 
tendencies  of  the  age  (Jugendschriften,  ed.  J.  Minor, 
1882;  Athenceum,  §216);  from  them  may  be  traced 
a  triple Bomantik — poetical,  political,  philosophical, 
in  form.  Fichte  himself  was  an  ardent  believer  in 
culture ;  coming  after  the  French  Revolution  and 
postulating  constructive  material  culture,  he  con- 
trasts strikingly  with  Rousseau.  In  his  Beitrdge 
zur  Berichtigung  uber  die franzbs.  Revolution,  1793, 
the  term  'Cultur'  is  of  frequent  occurrence;  it  is 
identified  with  the  inner  freedom  and  rationality 
of  Kantianism.  No  human  sensation  or  impulse, 
no  action  or  passion,  is  esteemed  of  value  unless  it 
makes  for  culture,  or  the  exercise  of  all  man's 
powers  towards  complete  freedom  as  a  goal  ( Werke, 
Leipzig,  1846-47,  vi.  86).  In  the  State,  the  culture 
of  freedom  should  be  the  aim,  declares  Fichte  (ib. 
101),  while  the  true  fatherland  is  that  State  which 
is  the  most  highly  cultured  (ib.  vii.  212).  Such 
was  Fichte's  own  culture-philosophy.  Yet  the 
Fichtean  element  that  appealed  to  the  Romanticist 
was  the  Ego,  whose  free  activity  was  for  Fichte 
the  leading  principle  of  all  culture.  Schlegel, 
however,  develops  romantic  culture  by  emphasizing 
the  sesthetical  activity  of  the  Ego,  whence  he  de- 
rives his  doctrine  of  Ironie,  the  watchword  of 
Romanticism.  In  essence,  Ironie  consists  in  a 
work  of  self-creation  and  self-destruction,  due 
to  the  Ego's  striving  after  an  impossible  ideal 
(Athenceum,  §51).  In  poetry,  this  subjectivism  is 
called  transcendental  where  it  begins  as  satire 
with  its  contrast  between  ideal  and  real,  changes 
to  the  sadness  of  elegy,  and  ends  as  an  idyll  which 
identifies  the  two  (ib.  §  228).  Where  Schiller  used 
'  sentimental,'  Schlegel  employs  '  transcendental,' 
of  which  style  he  considers  Dante  the  prophet, 
Shakespeare  the  centre,  and  Goethe  the  climax — 
'  der  grosse  Dreiklang  der  modernen  Poesie'  (ib. 
§  247).  In  thus  styling  Shakespeare  transcendental, 
Schlegel  invests  Schiller's  'naive'  and  'senti- 
mental' with  the  historical  sense  of  ancient  and 
modern — an  idea  carried  out  systematically  in  Die 
Griechen  und  Bonier  (1797).  Grecian  poetry,  de- 
clares Schlegel,  begins  with  nature  and  aims  to 
reach  beauty  through  culture  (p.  10) ;  modern 
poetry  aims  at  subjective  sesthetical  power  rather 
ttian  objective  beauty  (p.  79),  whence  arises  a 
striving  after  the  poetical  as  something  transcen- 
dental, a  '  Sehnsucht '  which  is  destined  to  remain 
unsatisfied  (p.  103).  This  type  of  poetry  contrasts 
strikingly  with  the  compact  culture-consciousness 
of  Classicism,  wherein  '  Kunstpoesie '  and  'Natur- 
poesie '  are  in  complete  harmony  (A  thenceum,  §  252). 
Thus,  as  the  culture-consciousness  of  the  Enlighten- 
ment had  arisen  in  England,  that  of  Romanticism 
has  been  seen  to  have  originated  in  Germany. 
There  was,  of  course,  a  French  Classicism  and  a 
French  Romanticism,  but  perhaps  the  most  direct 
contribution  to  culture  that  France  was  to  make  is 
found  in  the  third  period — that  of  Realism. 

3.  Realism. — The  inception  of  the  Realistic,  or 
Naturalistic,  movement  may  be  noted  as  early  as 
1831,  when  Henri  Beyle  (de  Stendhal)  produced 
his  Le  Bouge  et  le  noir.  This  Naturalism,  or 
'  Beylisme,'  as  its  author  styled  it,  involved  a 
direct  egoism  and  an  indirect  nihilism,  destined  to 
open  the  modern  mind  to  new  views  and  values  in 
the  intellectual   world.     Beyle  was  analyzed  and 


classified  by  the  aid  of  Taine  in  1857,  Zola  in  1880, 
and  Paul  Bourget  in  1883  (Huneker,  Egoists,  1909, 
p.  4f.).  Another  root  of  this  realism  is  found  in 
Flaubert,  whose  Madame  Bovary  (1857)  resulted 
in  a  culture-philosophy  called  '  Bovaryisme,'  or 
Illusionism,  hardly  in  keeping  with  the  acknow- 
ledged realism  of  Flaubert.  Another  frank  attempt 
to  be  realistic  appeared  with  Baudelaire's  Fleurs 
du  mal  (1857)  under  the  head  of  'Satanisme.' 
These  three  tendencies  re-appear  in  the  rhapsodies 
of  the  German  '  superman,'  Nietzsche,  who  was  prob- 
ably affected  no  less  thoroughly  by  Max  Stirner's 
The  Ego  and  his  Own  (1845),  which  delivers  its 
author  from  both  pagan  Classicism  and  Christian 
Romanticism,  while  it  rivals  the  early  Christians' 
'  contemptus  mundi '  by  its  contempt  for  spirit  and 
truth  (see  pp.  464,  478,  484).  This  egoistic  nihilism 
and  activism,  involving  the  transmutation  of  indi- 
vidualistic and  social  standards  of  value,  was 
originally  pursued  by  Nietzsche  in  the  milder  form 
of  Romanticism,  due  to  the  influence  of  Wagner's 
music,  which  Nietzsche  employs  to  explain  the 
origin  of  Greek  tragedy.  Where  both  Classi- 
cism and  Romanticism  had  agreed  in  regarding 
Grecian  culture  in  the  form  of  Apollonian  calm- 
ness, Nietzsche,  who  was  guided  by  the  dynamic 
ideal  of  musical  art,  and  who  had  profited  by 
Schopenhauer's  distinction  between  intellect  and 
will,  introduced  the  idea  of  a  Dionysiac  element, 
in  accordance  with  which  the  intellectual  realm 
of  culture  and  refinement  was  set  off  against 
the  voluntaristic  one  of  barbarism  and  passion. 
Nietzsche  had  carefully  noted  Schiller's  use  of 
'  naive,'  and  had  also  appreciated  its  significance 
in  the  psychology  of  Classicism  ;  nevertheless,  he 
was  anxious  to  show  that  the  Greeks  had  achieved 
the  naive  of  Apollo  only  by  a  mighty  conquest 
over  the  barbaric  and  titanic  of  Dionysus  (Die 
Geburt  der  Tragbdie,  188S,  §  3).  To  Schiller's 
naive  poets,  Homer  and  Shakespeare,  he  adds  the 
name  of  the  artist  Raphael,  whose  '  Transfigura- 
tion '  reveals,  in  art- symbolism,  the  eternal  sorrow 
and  contradiction  of  the  world,  expressed  as  it  is 
on  the  lower  and  darker  half  of  the  canvas,  which 
portrays  the  struggles  of  the  possessed,  and  the 
virion  of  peace  and  intelligence  shining  in  the 
transfiguration  above  (ib.  §  4).  But,  with  his  desire 
to  conceive  of  culture  in  the  activistic  fashion 
peculiar  to  the  art  of  music,  he  seems  to  have 
approved  of  the  Dionysiac  and  to  have  welcomed 
its  entrance  into  modern  culture  (ib.  §  19).  Follow- 
ing Nietzsche,  Sudermann  has  elaborated  a  kind 
of  culture-philosophy  which,  while  attracted  by 
the  Grecian  sense  of  harmony,  agrees  with  Schiller 
in  its  Apollonian  view  (see,  e.g.,  The  Joy  of  Living, 
tr.  Wharton,  1907,  Act  i.),  but  which  is  perhaps 
more  ready  to  assert  that,  after  all,  the  will  is 
so  superior  to  the  intellect  that  the  passions  are 
destined  to  triumph  over  the  spirit  in  man.  This 
supremacy  of  the  Dionysiac  seems  to  explain  the 
sensuality  and  irrationalism  of  man,  who  accounts 
for  his  viciousness  by  saying,  '  Es  ist  das  Heiden- 
thum  in  uns'  (cf.  Axelrod,  H.  Sudermann,  eine 
Studie,  1907,  p.  63). 

The  realistic  culture  that  signified  a  kind  of 
Dionysiac  revolt  against  conventionality  was  ac- 
companied by  the  criticism  of  various  nationalities 
by  cultured  patriots.  In  Russia,  Turgeniefi'  made 
ideal  war  upon  society  under  the  romantic  banner 
of  '  Nihilism '  (Fathers  and  Children,  1861,  tr. 
Hapgood,  1907,  oh.  v.),  and  repudiated  his  country 
for  its  lack  of  ideas  : 

'  Our  dear  mother,'  says  he,  '  Orthodox  Russia,  might  sink 
down  to  the  nethermost  hell,  and  not  a  single  tack,  not  a  single 
pin  would  be  disturbed,  .  .  .  because  even  the  samovar,  linden- 
bast  slippers,  shaft-arch,  and  the  knout — these  renowned  pro- 
ducts of  ours — were  not  invented  by  us '  (Sinoke,  tr.  Hapgood, 
19U7,  ch.  xiv.). 

In  Norway,  Ibsen  used  egoism  and  nihilism  to 


CULTURE 


361 


arouse  his  country  to  a  sense  of  intellectual  self- 
respect.  In  Brand  (1865)  he  idealizes  the  Nor- 
wegian ;  in  Peer  Gynt  (1S67)  he  satirizes  him  ; 
while  in  Emperor  and  Galilean  (1873)  he  seeks  to 
indicate  the  coming  of  a  '  third  empire '  of  selfhood, 
destined  to  supersede  the  '  Christian  empire  of  the 
spirit,'  as  that  had  overcome  the  '  pagan  empire 
of  the  flesh1  (Pt.  ii.  Act  iii.  Sc.  iv.).  In  America, 
where  the  national  consciousness  was  ahsorhed  by 
activity  and  weighed  down  by  Puritanism  and 
Philistinism,  the  call  to  culture  was  sounded  long 
ago  by  the  free  spirit  of  Emerson.  His  address, 
The  American  Scholar  (1S37),  contains  an  ideal 
programme  for  the  promotion  of  national  culture  ; 
and  in  a  spirit  at  once  Athenian  and  American, 
he  discusses  the  influences  of  nature,  literature, 
and  activity,  which  promote  the  culture  of  '  Man 
Thinking,'  while  he  also  emphasizes  the  scholar's 
duty  toward  his  age,  which,  in  Emerson's  mind, 
was  no  longer  the  classic  or  romantic,  but  the 
philosophical  one.  In  far  different  manner  from 
the  Apollonian  and  Socratic  serenity  of  Emerson, 
Poe  emphasized  the  Dionysiac  in  the  form  of  the 
morbid  and  mysterious  with  their  inherent  sense  of 
contradiction.  The  significance  of  Poe  was  really 
that  of  the  decadence  that  later  was  to  repudiate 
Realism.  This  was  to  come  about  through  Baude- 
laire, but  was  not  to  become  effectual  until  the 
end  of  the  19th  century,  with  Verlaine,  Mallarme, 
Villiersde  lTsle-Adam,Huysmans,  andMaeterlinck, 
as  well  as  Swinburne.  The  culture-consciousness  of 
the  decadence,  dissatisfied  with  the  limitations  of 
Realism,  made  use  of  the  morbid,  the  vicious,  and 
the  mysterious  in  order  to  sound  anew  the  depths 
of  the  soul.  By  means  of  symbolism,  it  sought 
to  find  something  objective  to  express  the  psycho- 
logical profundity  that  it  affected.  In  the  north, 
this  symbolism  was  developed  systematically  by 
Ibsen. 

But  by  far  the  most  systematic  culturist  critique 
of  national  life  was  carried  on  by  Matthew  Arnold , 
who  was  sufficiently  nihilistic  and  egoistic  in  spirit 
to  entitle  his  work.  Culture  and  Anarchy  (1869), 
and  who  was  sufficiently  radical  to  direct  it  against 
Protestantism  and  'Hebraism.'  Arnold's  method 
was  that  of  a  free  Socratism,  in  the  course  of  whose 
application  he  finds  it  expedient  to  praise  Plato 
and  St.  Paul  for  their  intellectualism  (ch.  iv.), 
and  Lessing  and  Herder  for  their  spirit  of  national 
culture.  Calling  himself  a  '  man  without  a  phil- 
osophy,' Arnold  was  jjossessed  of  sufficient  con- 
ceptualism  to  treat  culture  to  an  analysis  of  its 
four-fold  root,  whence  he  regards  it :  (1)  as  an 
internal  condition  of  humanity  rather  than  ani- 
mality  ;  (2)  as  a  growing  and  becoming  rather  than 
a  resting  and  a  having  ;  (3)  while  it  was  so  general 
as  to  advance  mankind  rather  than  the  mere  indi- 
vidual, within  whom  (4)  it  consisted  of  an  expansion 
of  all  his  powers,  instead  of  some  one  in  particular, 
as  the  religious  (ch.  i. ).  This  broad  humanistic  cul- 
ture Arnold  identifies  with  something  suggestive  of 
Schiller's  '  grace  and  dignity,'  by  calling  it  '  sweet- 
ness and  light' — an  expression  which  he  borrows 
from  Swift,  as  Schiller  had  borrowed  from  Sterne. 
In  contrast  with  his  nation's  '  faith  in  machinery,' 
Arnold  exercises  a  faith  in  culture,  by  means  of 
which  he  is  led  to  say  that  the  England  of  his  own 
day  was  little  in  comparison  with  the  England  of 
Elizabeth  (ib. ).  This  a;sthetical  reflexion  upon 
the  industrial  age  of  coal  was  accompanied  by  a 
critique  of  the  moralistic,  or  Puritanical,  carried 
on  in  connexion  with  the  distinction  between  Hel- 
lenism, with  its  '  spontaneity  of  consciousness,' 
and  Hebraism,  with  its  '  strictness  of  conscience ' 
— one  the  principle  of  thinking,  the  other  of  doing 
(ch.  iv.).  Arnold's  philosophy  of  history,  observing 
that  Europe  has  been  subjected  to  a  double  treat- 
ment of  culture  and  civilization,  places  Hellenism 


at  the  head  of  spiritual  development  in  the  West, 
while  it  accounts  for  its  failure  to  rule  by  calling 
it  '  premature,'  whence  Hebraism  was  enabled 
to  govern  the  world.  With  the  supremacy  of 
Hebraism,  which  Arnold  treats  more  kindly  than 
Nietzsche  treated  Christianity  when  he  saw  its 
'  transvaluation  of  pagan  values,'  there  comes  a 
Renaissance  revival  of  Hellenism,  which,  like 
original  Hellenism,  so  suffered  from  lax  morals 
that  Hebraism,  in  the  form  of  Puritanism,  was 
again  called  upon  to  rule  by  means  of  strict  obedi- 
ence (ib.).  Believing  that  Hellenic  sweetness  and 
light  is  the  one  thing  needful,  Arnold  believes  also 
that  it  may  further  the  cause  of  Hebraism,  which 
can  only  gain  from  an  infusion  of  Socrates'  '  dis- 
interested play  of  consciousness'  (ch.  v.).  Indeed, 
Hebraism  seems  never  to  have  relinquished  its  hold 
upon  Arnold,  who,  in  Literature  and  Dogma  (1875), 
esteemed  '  conduct  as  three-fourths  of  human  life ' ; 
hence  we  may  speak  of  his  Hellenizing  culture 
as  'morality  touched  with  sweetness  and  light.' 
Without  appreciating  the  strength  of  Arnold's 
sentiments,  popular  culture  is  now  busy  with  the 
more  entertaining  features  of  science,  art,  and 
philosophy,  its  devotees  being  organized  into  groups 
not  without  resemblance  to  the  Pr&cieuses  Ridicules 
and  the  Femmes  Savantes  of  three  hundred  years 
ago. 

II.  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CULTURE.— As  the  defini- 
tion of  culture  has  implied,  the  contrast  between 
nature  and  spirit,  animality  and  humanity,  activity 
and  contemplation,  inner  and  outer,  immediate  and 
remote,  contains  a  problem  for  the  human  species 
which  belongs  to  nature,  but  which,  nevertheless, 
contemplates  a  trans-natural  or  spiritual  goal  for 
humanity.  The  most  essential  element  in  the 
psychology  of  culture  is  that  which  relates  to  the 
intellect  and  the  will,  with  the  accompanying 
contrast  between  the  life  of  culture  and  that  of 
activity.  With  the  question  presented  upon  the 
intellectualistico-voluntaristic  basis,  the  two  re- 
maining problems  of  humanity  and  happiness  will 
follow  in  a  natural  order. 

I.  Culture  and  activity. — When  contrasted  with 
the  outer  life  of  activism,  the  interior  and  con- 
templative character  of  culture  assumes  the  form 
of  an  intense  problem  of  values,  especially  in  an 
age  where  naturalism  is  exalted  by  science  and 
where  industrialism  deafens  the  ear  to  the  '  Know 
thyself '  of  intellectualism.  Hence  society  has 
scruples  against  culture,  which,  it  is  urged,  unfits 
man  for  life  in  the  outer  world  among  men  and 
things.  The  antinomy  between  intellect  and  will 
has  long  afflicted  the  Indo-Germanic  consciousness, 
and  as  far  back  as  the  days  of  Vedanta  philosophy 
it  had  sought  to  reconcile  the  conflicting  claims  of 
the  Sankhya  of  thought  and  the  Yoga  of  action 
by  declaring  that  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  and  the 
performance  of  work  were  both  necessary  to  bring 
man  to  the  highest  spiritual  state  of  workless 
contemplation  (Bhagavad-Gitu,  ch.  v. ).  With  the 
Greeks,  who  were  both  Apollonian  and  Dionysiac, 
the  ascendant  principle  was  the  intellectualistic 
one  ;  for,  while  Aristotle  based  life  upon  evtpyua, 
he  found  ei5a.iij.ovla.  to  consist  in  an  energy  tempered 
by  moderation  and  perfected  by  contemplation 
(Nic.  Eth.  x.  7).  It  was  in  this  spirit  that  Bacon 
exalted  the  'work  of  contemplation.'  Voltaire's 
attack  upon  culture  was  carried  on  in  the  same 
eudsemonistic  manner ;  accordingly  his  pessimistic 
Candide  (1758)  urges  man  to  work  without  think- 
ing, as  the  only  means  of  rendering  life  bearable, 
whence  follows,  at  the  conclusion,  the  familiar 
maxim,  'II  faut  cultiver  notre  jardin.'  In  the 
history  of  French  scepticism,  the  same  advice  had 
been  given  by  Montaigne,  who  also  counsels  one  to 
assume  the  consciousness  of  a  dumb  animal  in 
order  to  find  wisdom — '  II  nous  faut  abestir  pou*' 


362 


CULTURE 


nous  assagir'  ('Apologie  de  Raymond  Sebond,' 
Essais,  Lyons,  1595,  bk.  ii.  ch.  xii.). 

But  the  classic  example  of  the  genius  who  sought 
peace  by  harmonizing  inner  with  outer  life  is 
Goethe,  with  his  Torquato  Tasso  (1789)  and  Faust. 
Developed  in  Italy,  where  Goethe  came  into  living 
contact  with  Hellenism,  Tasso  was  submitted  to 
the  classic  form  of  treatment,  which  was  hardly 
fitted  for  the  strivings  of  the  unhappy  hero  with 
his  Werther  temperament.  The  display  of  soul- 
stuff,  with  its  conflict  between  intellectualism  and 
activism,  is  carried  on  in  the  comparison  between 
Tasso  and  Antonio,  the  man  of  affairs ;  for,  even 
when  crowned  with  the  wreath  taken  from  the 
bust  of  Virgil,  as  a  sign  of  his  success  in  completing 
his  Jerusalem  Delivered,  the  poet  is  envious  of  the 
practical  man,  who  has  just  returned  from  an 
important  mission.  In  the  course  of  this  drama  of 
the  inner  culture-consciousness,  Goethe  takes  the 
opportunity  of  introducing  certain  maxims  which 
have  become  famous.  Thus  in  his  jealousy  of 
Antonio,  Tasso  exclaims,  '  I  feel  myself  more  than 
ever  of  double  soul '  (Act  ii.  Sc.  i.),  referring  to  the 
duality  of  soul  embodied  in  Faust  (i.  759).  The 
poet's  incompleteness  is  celebrated  in  the  words, 
'  Talent  is  formed  in  solitude,  character  in  the 
stream  of  the  world'  (Act  i.  Sc.  ii.);  while  it  is 
declared  that  self-knowledge  comes  not  from  within, 
but  rather  out  in  the  world  among  men  ( Actii.  Sc.  iii. ). 
Where  the  Princess  celebrates  the  poet's  sorrow  by 
calling  it  'charming'  (Act  i.  Sc.  i.),  Tasso  at  last 
confesses  the  profundity  of  his  inner  contempla- 
tive consciousness,  in  the  memorable  Goetheanism, 
'  Some  god  gave  me  power  to  tell  how  I  suffer ' 
(Act  v.  Sc.  v.).  This  Goethean  nostalgia  for 
activity  has  recently  received  brilliant  recognition 
in  Paul  Bourget's  Le  Disciple  (1889).  Faust's  sense 
of  two  souls  within  expresses  the  conflict  more 
profoundly,  while  it  solves  the  problem  more  de- 
cisively as  the  victory  of  the  active  altruist  over 
the  thinking  egoist,  or  the  merging  of  the  two  in 
the  unity  of  life,  the  consciousness  of  which  leads 
Faust  to  bid  the  holy  moment  stay :  '  Verweile 
doch,  du  bist  so  schon    (ii.  6953). 

The  culturist,  however,  will  object  to  this  activ- 
istic  treatment  of  the  problem,  and  persist  in  his 
contemplation,  however  painful  it  may  be  for  him. 
Moreover,  intellectualism  claims  that  action  stands 
in  need  of  the  thought-principle,  inasmuch  as  the 
will  comes  to  consciousness  only  in  ideation,  as  was 
confessed  by  the  arch-voluntarist,  Schopenhauer, 
when  he  made  the  will-to-live  objectify  itself  as 
Platonic  ideas  [World  as  Will  and  Idea,  tr.  Hal- 
dane  and  Kemp,  1883-6,  §  25).  Apart  from  thought, 
activity  defeats  its  own  humanistic  aims,  for,  'where 
there  is  no  vision,  the  people  perish '  (Pr  2918).  The 
recent  egoistic  movement  in  literature  reacts  favour- 
ably upon  culture,  which  is  so  interior  in  its  nature 
as  to  make  most  difficult  any  social  interpretation 
of  the  contemplative.  Thus  Maurice  Barres  stands 
for  a  '  culte  du  moi '  in  the  '  tour  d'ivoire '  of  self- 
hood (cf .  Huneker,  Egoists,  in  loc. ).  In  the  same 
spirit,  Anatole  France,  although  apparently  a  be- 
liever in  collectivism,  is  not  without  egoistic  and 
intellectualistic  traits.  These  appear  brilliantly 
in  The  Red  Lily,  where  Paul  Vence's  opinion  of 
Napoleon  seems  to  express  the  author's  view  of 
activists  in  general : 

'A  poet,  he  knew  no  poetry  but  that  of  action.  His  great 
dream  of  life  was  earth-bound.  .  .  .  His  youth,  or  rather  his 
sublime  adolescence,  endured  to  the  end,  because  all  the  days 
of  his  life  were  powerless  to  form  in  him  a  conscious  maturity. 
Such  is  the  abnormal  condition  of  all  men  of  action.  They  live 
entirely  for  the  moment,  and  their  genius  is  concentrated  on 
one  single  point.  They  do  not  grow.  The  hours  of  their  lives 
are  not  bound  together  by  any  chain  of  grave  disinterested 
reflexion.  They  do  not  develop ;  one  condition  merely  suc- 
ceeds another  in  a  series  of  deeds.  Thus  they  have  no  inner 
life.  The  absence  of  any  inner  life  is  particularly  noticeable  in 
Napoleon.  ...  He  lived  outside  himself  (Stephen's  tr.,  1908, 
ch.  iii.  p.  46  f.). 


Where  the  culturist  grants  the  validity  of  activ- 
ism, he  yet  sees  its  limits,  if  not  its  dangers ;  or, 
as  Bergson,  a  pronounced  activist,  has  expressed 
it :  'It  is  presumable  that,  without  language,  in- 
telligence would  have  been  riveted  to  material 
objects  that  its  inteiests  led  it  to  consider.  It 
would  have  lived  in  a  state  of  somnambulism, 
exterior  to  itself,  hypnotized  by  its  work '  (L'Evo- 
lution  cr4atricee,  1910,  p.  172).  Such  a  condition  of 
exteriority,  observed  by  both  France  and  Bergson, 
would  seem  to  be  the  unhappy  state  of  mankind, 
apart  from  the  intellectual  deliverance  that  comes 
through  culture ;  the  man  of  genius,  raised  above 
nature,  is  enabled  to  transform  the  energy  of  action 
into  the  work  of  contemplation,  as  Flaubert's  prin- 
ciple of  violence  in  art  resulted  in  rhetoric. 

2.  Culture  and  humanity. — While  it  goes  without 
saying  that  man  was  meant  for  humanity,  or  for  the 
perfection  that  belongs  to  the  species,  it  does  not 
follow  that  this  perfection  must  be  intellectual- 
istic. For  Bacon  it  was  easy  to  identify  Veritas 
with  bonitas  {Adv.  of  Learn.  I.  viii.  2) ;  but  the 
modern  notion  of  humanity's  realization  of  the 
good  is  often  elaborated  in  defiance  of  the  intel- 
lectually true.  In  ancient  thought,  Plato's  Republic 
banished  poetry  and  the  drama  from  the  State ;  but 
this  drastic  measure  was  in  the  interest  of  truth 
as  man's  chief  good  (bk.  x.  595-605).  In  modern 
times,  Tolstoi  has  opposed  decadent  culture,  be- 
cause, like  Rousseau,  he  thinks  that  progress  in 
intellectualism  has  brought  about  inequality,  as 
also  for  Plato's  reason  that  art  does  not  yield 
truth.  Tolstoi  opposes  the  notion  that  art  belongs 
to  superior  souls  alone  ( What  is  Art  ?  tr.  Maude, 
1889,  ch.  viii.).  'Art,'  says  Tolstoi,  'should  unite 
men  with  God  and  with  one  another ' ;  whence  he 
arraigns,  as  inimical  to  this  religion  of  humanity, 
all  art  that  is  superstitious,  patriotic,  and  sensual 
(ib.  ch.  xvii.).  With  a  condemnation  of  modern 
art  almost  universal,  Tolstoi  surrenders  to  the 
genre  and  sympathistic,  as  represented  by  Dickens, 
Hugo,  Dostoievsky,  Millet,  Breton,  etc.  His  at- 
tack upon  Shakespeare  was  provoked  by  the  per- 
ception that  the  poet  slighted  the  labouring  classes. 
Ernest  Crosby  having  made  such  a  socialistic  criti- 
cism of  Shakespeare,  Tolstoi  proceeded  to  criticize 
his  dramas,  upon  aesthetic  and  philosophic  grounds 
(A  Critical  Essay  on  Shakespeare,  tr.  Tchertkoff, 
1906,  pt.  ii.,  Crosby's  article).  In  addition  to  this 
social  scruple  against  culture,  there  is  also  an 
ethical  detent,  based  upon  the  thought  that  intel- 
lectual superiority  in  a  nation  seems  to  involve  a 
pyramidal  arrangement  of  the  social  order,  where 
the  enlightened  few  are  supported  by  the  mass 
of  labouring  people,  whereby  injustice  arises.  The 
failure  of  the  sesthetical  to  redeem  mankind  urged 
Schopenhauer  to  put  ethics  in  its  place,  with  the 
idea  that,  since  not  all  can  be  artists,  they  should 
all  be  moralists,  and  that  even  in  the  cultured 
person  the  aesthetic  moment  is  so  transitory  that 
it  necessitates  the  permanent  moral  treatment  of 
life  in  the  complete  denial  of  the  will-to-live  ( World 
as  Will  and  Idea,  tr.  Haldane  and  Kemp,  1896, 
§§  27,  52 ;  also  bks.  iii.  iv. ) ;  culture,  however  desir- 
able, does  not  seem  to  be  imperative  like  morality, 
activity,  and  the  like  ;  but  the  argument  involved 
is  not  really  one  of  physical  necessity,  but  of 
spiritual  value ;  for,  inasmuch  as  '  the  earth  is  the 
planet  of  hunger,  or  the  planet  where  one  eats' 
(A.  France),  it  might  be  argued  that  through 
necessity  food  is  as  important  as  virtue,  and  the 
economic  the  equal  of  the  ethical.  The  question  is 
one  of  values,  as  also  one  of  psychological  fitness  ; 
whence  the  culturist  concludes  that  morality  and 
social  life  stand  in  need  of  the  enlightenment  and 
evaluation|that  can  come  only  when  truth  and  beauty 
are  pursued  for  their  own  sake.  The  most  perfect 
conception  of  social  life  seems  to  have  found  ex- 


OUP-  AND  RING-MARKINGS 


363 


pression  in  ancient  times,  when  it  was  said,  '  Many 
shall  run  to  and  fro,  and  knowledge  shall  be  in- 
creased' (Dn  121).  In  the  endeavour  to  promote 
the  interests  of  an  enlightened  State,  it  is  not  out 
of  place  to  commend  culture  and  foster  genius,  for 
it  must  not  he  forgotten  that  humanity  is  in  part 
to  be  conceived  in  humanistic  fashion,  which  in- 
volves the  exaltation  of  letters  and  arts,  or  the 
'  humanities. ' 

3.  Culture  and  happiness. — Where  culture  is 
challenged  by  activism  and  socialism,  it  is  finally 
criticized  by  eudremonism,  on  the  ground  that  it 
fails  to  satisfy  the  soul.  Here  re-appears  the  con- 
tention of  activist  and  socialist,  who  will  assert 
that  the  disinterestedness  demanded  by  culture 
can  result  only  in  diverting  man's  attention  from 
immediate  necessities,  which,  like  eating,  drinking, 
clothing,  shelter,  are  imperative  for  the  '  Sons  of 
Martha'  to  consider.  Both  nature  and  natural 
society  point  to  the  place  man  is  supposed  to  occupy 
in  the  actual  world  ;  hence  the  interior  life  of  cul- 
ture can  only  unfit  him  for  his  vocation  as  a  living 
being,  so  great  is  the  preoccupation  which  culture 
demands.  Hence,  with  the  physical  and  social 
struggle  for  existence,  the  contemplator  is  likely 
to  be  left  stranded  in  the  onward  flux  of  events,  so 
that  all  that  makes  for  culture  threatens  the  well- 
being  of  man.  Modern  educational  systems  have 
long  been  realizing  this  utilitarian  principle,  with 
the  result  that  '  humanity '  now,  instead  of  con- 
noting culture,  stands  for  social  efficiency ;  while 
'culture  courses'  in  the  curriculum  are  included 
among  the  non-essentials.  To  this  argument 
against  disinterested  enlightenment,  the  culturist 
may  reply  by  noting  that  these  practical  interests 
will  take  care  of  themselves  in  connexion  with 
man's  instinctive  life,  just  as  they  will  ever  assert 
themselves  in  human  education  as  demands  made 
by  the  inquiring  interested  mind.  But  the  cultural 
interest  in  remote  ideals  may  safely  be  furthered 
in  the  life  and  education  of  man,  who  is  necessarily 
predisposed  in  favour  of  the  immediately  useful. 

With  regard  to  culture  as  a  means  of  promoting 
happiness,  the  central  question  is  one  of  the  posses- 
sion or  pursuit  of  knowledge.  Classicism,  which 
had  culture  without  the  culture-problem,  upheld 
the  possession  of  knowledge  as  affording  the  highest 
enjoyment ;  hence  Aristotle  said  :  '  ft  is  reason- 
able to  suppose  that  the  employment  (of  wisdom)  is 
more  pleasant  to  those  who  have  mastered  it  than 
to  those  who  are  yet  seeking'  (Nic.  Eth.  x.  vi.). 
Mediaeval  Romanticism  relaxed  somewhat  from 
this  identification  of  knower  and  knowledge,  as 
when  the  Troubadour,  or  Trouvere  (finder),  sug- 
gested that  the  search  after  that  which  could  be 
found  constituted  our  true  happiness.  The  culture 
of  Modernism  is  not  wanting  in  instances  of  repre- 
sentative individuals  who  have  protested  that  the 
search  after  truth  is  more  satisfying  than  the  secur- 
ing of  knowledge  itself.  Thus  it  was  that  the  Car- 
tesian, Pere  Malebranche,  said  :  '  If  I  held  truth 
captive  in  the  hand,  I  would  open  it  in  order  to 
pursue  it  again '  (Mazure,  Cours  de  la  philosophic, 
li.  20) ;  while  Butler  declared  :  '  Knowledge  is  not 
our  proper  happiness  ...  it  is  the  gaining,  not 
the  having,  of  it,  which  is  the  entertainment  of 
the  mind'  (Sermons,  xv.).  More  brilliantly  and 
more  forcefully  Lessing  said  : 

Mf  God  were  to  hold  in  His  right  hand  all  truth,  and  in  His 
left  the  single,  ever-living  impulse  to  seek  for  truth,  though 
coupled  with  the  condition  of  eternal  error,  and  should  say  to 
me,  "  Choose  !  "  I  would  humbly  fall  before  His  left  hand,  and 
say,  "  Father,  give  !  Pure  truth  is,  after  all,  for  Thee  alone  1 "  ' 
(Rolleston,  Life  of  Lessing,  1SS9,  ch.  xvii.). 

While  significant  of  the  remoteness  inherent  in 
the  culture-ideal,  such  utterances  are  not  normal 
expressions  of  the  culture-motive,  which  is  more 
like  the  Troubadour,  or  finding,  instinct  in  the 
human  mini    Finally,  our  modern  psychology,  like 


that  of  Wundt,  by  showing  how  similar  are  intel- 
lect and  volition,  tends  to  do  away  with  the  con- 
flict between  the  idealistic  and  activistic  methods 
of  promoting  human  happiness,  and  to  postulate  a 
unity  of  thinking  and  doing,  of  inner  life  and  outer 
existence. 

Literature. — M.  Arnold,  Culture  and  Anarchy,  London, 
1869;  H.  Black,  Culture  and  Restraint*,  New  York,  1901; 
B.  Bauch,  '  Sittlichkeit  u.  Kultur,'  in  ZPhP  cxxv.  [Leipzig, 
1905]  63-68;  R.  Eucken,  Culture  in  Fundamental  Concept! 
of  Philos.,  tr.  Phelps,  New  York,  1880;  F.  H.  Giddings, 
'The  Economic  Significance  of  Culture,'  in  Pol.  Sci.  Quar. 
vol.  xviii.,  Boston,  1903,  pp.  389-461 ;  E.  Krieck,  Personlickkeit 
u.  Kultur,  Heidelberg,  1910;  H.  Lotze,  The  Microcosmut,  tr. 
Hamilton-Jones,  Edinburgh,  1886,  bk.  viii.  chs.  1-3 ;  W.  Ost- 
wald,  Die  Forderung  des  Tages,  Leipzig,  1910 ;  F.  Paulsen, 
Ethics,  tr.  F.  Thilly,  London,  1899,  bk.  iii.  ch.  6 ;  J.  C.  Shairp, 
Culture  and  Religion,  New  York,  1870 ;  E.  G.  Sihler,  Testi- 
monium Animas,  or  Greek  and  Roman  before  Jesus  Christ, 
New  York,  1909 ;  G.  M.  Stratton,  Experimental  Psychology 
and  its  Bearing  upon  Culture  (esp.  ch.  16),  New  York,  1903 ; 
Vierkandt,  'Die  Griinde  fur  die  Erhaltung  der  Cultur,'  in  Philos. 
Studien,  xx.  [Leipzig,  1902]  407-66. 

Charles  Gray  Shaw. 

CUMBERLAND  PRESBYTERIAN 
CHURCH.— See  Confessions,  Presbyterian- 
ism. 

CUP-  AND  RING-MARKINGS.— r.  Descrip- 
tion.— The  name  '  cup-  and  ring-markings '  is  given 
to  certain  signs — they  cannot  be  called  drawings 
or  sculptures — which  are  found  on  rock-surfaces 
and  articles  of  use  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  from 
pre-historic  times  down  to  the  primitive  peoples  of 
the  present  day.  Wherever  found,  they  are  dis- 
tinguished by  the  same  characteristics  with  great 
variety  in  details.  In  all  cases  there  is  the  central 
cup,  hollow,  or  depression,  surrounded  by  one  or 
more  concentric  circles  or  rings.  These  rings  take 
many  varying  forms.  Sometimes  they  are  com- 
plete circles  ;  sometimes  they  are  only  semi-circles 
at  the  top  or  bottom  of  the  cup ;  sometimes  they 
take  the  form  of  spirals.  At  times — and  this  is 
very  usual  when  they  are  found  in  any  number — 
sets  of  cup-  and  ring-markings  are  united  by  lines 
or  ducts  making  a  variety  of  figures ;  and  again, 
at  times,  the  outermost  circle  has  a  number  of  rays 
issuing  from  it  and  converging  towards  the  central 
depression  or  cup.  Wherever  they  have  been  ob- 
served, they  are  the  work  of  peoples  in  the  Neolithic 
stage  of  culture,  whether  in  the  actual  Neolithic 
Age  of  the  pre-historic  past,  or  among  peoples  who 
at  the  present  time  exist  at  that  stage  of  culture. 

The  localities  where  archaic  cup-  and  ring-mark- 
ings are  now  known  to  exist  are  world-wide.  Some 
of  the  finest  examples  are  in  the  British  Islands. 
It  was  in  the  year  1859  that  Sir  J.  Gardner  Wilkin- 
son first  called  attention  to  them  in  a  paper  in  the 
Journal  of  the  British  Archaeological  Association, 
in  the  course  of  which  he  refers  to  cup-  and  ring- 
markings  on  the  rocks'  in  Northumberland,  and 
claims  to  have  been  the  first  to  note  such  markings 
as  far  back  as  1835.  In  1867,  Sir  James  Simpson 
published  his  book  entitled  Archaic  Sculpturings 
of  Cups,  Circles,  etc.,  on  Rocks,  in  which  he  de- 
scribed all  those  that  were  then  known  in  Scotland, 
Northumberland,  Cumberland,  and  Yorkshire,  and 
in  a  series  of  beautiful  plates  he  illustrated  every 
variety  of  form  which  they  exhibit. 

It  is  now  known  that  archaic  cup-  and  ring- 
markings  exist  in  all  parts  of  our  own  country, 
not  only  on  scarps  of  rock,  but  on  the  stones  of 
so-called  '  Druid  circles,  from  Inverness-shire  to 
Lancashire,  Cumberland,  and  the  Isle  of  Man ;  on 
great  stones  forming  avenues ;  on  cromlechs ;  on 
the  stones  of  chambered  tumuli  in  Yorkshire ; 
on  stone  cists  or  coffins  in  Scotland,  Ireland,  and 
Dorset ;  on  pre-historic  obelisks,  or  solitary  '  stand- 
ing-stones '  in  Argyll ;  on  walls  in  subterranean 
'  Picts'  houses '  in  the  Orkneys  and  Forfarshire  ;  in 
pre-historic  Scottish  forts ;   near  old  camps ;  and 


364 


CUP-  AND  RING-MARKINGS 


on  isolated  rocks,  scarps,  and  stones.  They  are 
found  in  the  Cheviot  Hills,  on  the  moor  near 
Chatton  Park  in  Northumberland  ;  there  engraved 
on  the  boulders  may  be  seen  central  cup-like  de- 
pressions surrounded  by  incised  concentric  circles. 
Some  of  the  finest  examples  in  the  British  Islands 
are  at  or  near  Ilkley  in  Yorkshire.  In  Ireland 
precisely  analogous  markings,  or  '  rock-scribings,' 
as  Wakenian  calls  them,  are  found  at  Mevagh,  Co. 
Donegal,  on  the  sides  of  Knockmore  Cave,  near 
Derrygonnelly,  Co.  Fermanagh,  as  well  as  the 
magnificent  series  of  double  spirals  at  Newgrange, 
Dowth,  and  Lough  Crew,  Co.  Meath,  which  belong 
to  a  somewhat  later  stage  of  culture. 

Outside  the  British  Islands,  other  archaic  ex- 
amples, besides  those  in  the  Morbihan,  may  be 
noted  at  Malta,  where,  in  the  spring  of  1910,  the 
writer  saw  the  very  fine  series — painted,  not  incised 
— in  the  hypogeum  at  Hal-Saflieni.  They  also 
occur  incised  at  Hagiar  Kim  and  Mnaidra,  in 
Malta,  and  in  the  Giganteja  at  Gozo  ;  on  the  rock 
on  which  the  great  Cathedral  of  Seville  is  built ; 
on  the  steps  of  the  Forum  at  Rome  ;  on  the  pedestal 
of  a  statue  from  Athens  ;  in  Scandinavia,  in  China, 
in  India,  and  in  North  and  South  America. 

Present-day  instances  in  which  a  precisely  similar 
scheme  of  ornamentation  may  be  observed  are 
found  among  the  natives  of  Central  Australia 
(which  will  be  more  particularly  described  when 
we  come  to  discuss  the  meaning  to  be  assigned  to 
them),  in  Fiji,  in  Easter  Island,  and  other  parts  of 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  as  well  as  in  certain  parts  of 
Africa.  Further,  among  races  who  tatu,  particu- 
larly the  Maoris  of  New  Zealand,  a  very  similar 
set  of  designs  may  be  observed. 

2.  Theories  as  to  significance. — It  is  an  axiom 
of  Anthropology  that  primitive  man  never  gave, 
nor  does  he  give,  himself  trouble  merely  for  an 
aesthetic  purpose,  but  always  had  some  practical 
object  in  view.  Hence  the  theories  proposed  in 
explanation  of  cup-  and  ring-markings  fall  into 
two  groups.  The  first  would  explain  them  by 
(a)  religion,  or  (b)  magic  ;  the  second,  as  (a)  primi- 
tive star-maps,  or  (b)  rude  maps  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, showing  the  position  of  hut-circles,  or  (e)  a 
primitive  method  of  writing,  or  at  least  of  com- 
municating ideas. 

i.  (a)  Religion. — Sir  James  Simpson,  after  men- 
tioning, only  to  reject,  the  Swedish  archaeologist 
Nilsson's  conjecture  that  these  markings  were 
Phoenician  in  their  origin,  came  to  the  conclusion 
that '  they  are  archaeological  enigmata,'  but  he  went 
on  to  suggest  that  they  were  '  probably  ornamental 
and  possibly  religious,'  adding  that,  '  though  in  the 
first  instance  probably  decorative,'  they  were  also 
'emblems  or  symbols,  connected  in  some  way 
with  the  religious  thought  and  doctrines  of  those 
who  carved  them'  (op.  cit.  pp.  92,  115,  117). 

In  1872,  Phene,  in  a  paper  read  before  the  British 
Archaeological  Association,  argued  that  the  purpose 
of  cup-  and  ring-markings  was  a  religious  one,  and 
that  it  was  connected  with  sun-worship. 

In  1878,  Romilly  Allen,  an  acknowledged  au- 
thority in  all  that  pertains  to  early  Christian  art, 
read  before  the  British  Archaeological  Association 
an  exhaustive  paper  on  the  remarkable  series  of 
'  Pre-historic  Rock-sculptures  at  Ilkley.'  After 
giving  a  list  of  all  the  localities  in  which  pre-historic 
rock-sculptures  were  then  known  to  exist,  followed 
by  a  detailed  account  of  those  at  Ilkley,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  notice  various  theories  as  to  their  origin 
and  meaning.  It  may  be  observed  that  among  the 
markings  at  Ilkley  there  is  one  set  of  cups  and 
lines  arranged  in  the  form  of  the  swastika,  a  pattern 
of  universal  prevalence  from  the  Mycenaean  age 
onwards,  which  is  noted  by  Schliemann  to  have 
been  found  on  a  very  large  number  of  spindle- 
whorls  discovered  at  Troy,  and  is  found  in  India 


as  a  religious  symbol,  and  survives  among  ourselves 
as  the  arms  of  the  Isle  of  Man.  Its  occurrence 
here  would  seem  to  carry  back  its  use  as  a  symbol 
of  some  sort  to  pre-historic  times.  Allen's  own 
theory  is  that  cup-  and  ring-markings  were  most 
probably  used  as  religious  symbols,  and  were 
connected,  as  Nilsson  suggested,  with  sun-  and 
Baal-worship.  He  also  thinks,  with  Nilsson,  that 
the  pre-historic  sculptures  belong  to  the  Bronze 
Age. 

In  the  following  year  C.  W.  Dymond  read  an 
interesting  paper  before  the  same  Association  on 
some  rock-markings  in  the  same  neighbourhood, 
with  copious  reference  to  Schliemann's  discoveries 
at  Troy  and  Mycenae.  In  this  he  makes  a  special 
point  of  that  discoverer's  theory  that  the  cups 
surrounded  by  complete  circles  represent  the  sun, 
and  those  surrounded  by  incomplete  or  semi-circles, 
with  or  without  rays,  i.e.  ducts,  represent  the 
rising  or  setting  sun.  In  this  connexion  it  may  be 
noted  that  among  the  rock-paintings  of  the  native 
Australians  described  by  R.  H.  Mathews  (in  JAI 
xxv.  [1896]  145)  is  one  which  almost  certainly 
represents,  along  with  a  figure  of  two  hands  joined 
at  the  wrist,  the  sun  rising  or  setting.  The 
significance  of  this  will  appear  later  (see.  below, 
p.  366").  Dymond  also  notes  one  stone  containing 
a  most  remarkable  arrangement  of  markings,  which 
he  says  he  at  first  took  for  a  rude  representation 
of  the  planetary  system,  but  which  he  afterwards 
thought  might  be  an  allegorical  or  symbolical 
representation  of  a  goose  (Journ.  Brit.  Arch.  Assoc. 
xxxvii.  86). 

As  recently  as  1900,  H.  G.  M.  Murray-Aynsley, 
in  her  book  on  Symbolism  of  the  East  anil  West, 
describes  the  cup-  and  ring-markings  which  she 
had  observed  in  the  course  of  her  travels  in  India, 
and  compares  them  with  those  known  in  Europe  ; 
and  as  to  their  significance  she  assigns  all  alike  to 
sun-  and  star-worship. 

In  his  recent  book  Ancient  Britain  and  the 
Invasions  of  Julius  Ccesar  (London,  1907),  Rice 
Holmes  ranges  himself  with  those  who  would  see 
in  these  markings  some  religious  significance, 
though  he  is  hopelessly  wrong  in  assigning  them, 
as  he  does,  to  the  Bronze  Age. 

Still  keeping  to  the  theory  of  their  religious 
significance,  it  may  be  noted  that  Col.  Rivett- 
Carnac,  who  has  made  a  special  study  of  the 
archaic  rock-markings  of  India,  particularly  as 
they  occur  among  the  Kumaun  Hills,  suggested 
that  they  are  connected  with  ^ing'am-worship  ;  the 
central  mark  or  cup  representing  the  lihgam,  the 
circle  the  yoni.  The  rich,  he  supposed,  put  up  a 
monument,  the  poor  merely  carved  a  symbol. 

In  his  Pre-historic  Times6,  1900,  Lord  Avebury 
comes  to  the  conclusion  that  '  we  have  as  yet  no 
satisfactory  clue  to  the  meaning  of  these  engrav- 
ings '  (p.  158),  and  he  assigns  the  ruder,  and  there- 
fore evidently  more  primitive,  engravings,  i.e.  the 
simple  cup-  and  ring-marks  in  all  their  variety,  to 
the  Neolithic  Age,  or,  as  we  prefer  to  say,  at  any 
rate  to  the  Neolithic  stage  of  culture.  As  regards 
the  meaning  to  be  attached  to  the  symbols,  R. 
Munro  says : 

'  Although  much  has  been  written  on  the  subject,  none  of  the 
theories  advanced  to  explain  their  meaning  has  met  with  general 
acceptance.  That  they  had  a  symbolic  meaning  in  the  religious 
conceptions  of  the  people  is  evident  from  the  frequency  with 
which  they  are  found  on  sepulchral  monuments,  but  any  inter- 
pretation hitherto  advanced  on  the  subject,  beyond  the  general 
religious  idea,  seems  to  be  pure  conjecture '  {Prehistoric  Scot- 
land, p.  217  f.). 

(b)  Magic— In  1892,  and  again  in  1896,  Miss 
Russell  propounded,  with  a  wealth  of  argument 
and  illustration,  before  the  same  Association,  the 
theory  that  simple  cups  and  circles  are  intended  to 
represent  eyes,  and  that  those  having  a  line  or  duct 
through   them   represent   eyes  transfixed  with   a 


CUP-  AND  RING-MARKINGS 


366 


javelin,  and  that  accordingly  the  solution  of  the 
problem  as  to  the  meaning  of  these  signs  is  to  be 
found  in  regarding  them  as  charms  against  the 
Evil  Eye.  The  prevalence  of  this  superstition 
among  primitive  races  the  world  over  is  unquestion- 
able, and  it  survives  to-day,  with  more  intensity 
than  anywhere  else  among  civilized  peoples,  in 
Italy,  as  Elworthy  has  conclusively  shown  in  his 
books,  The  Evil  Eye  (London,  1895),  and  Horns  of 
Honour  (London,  1900),  so  that,  had  it  not  been 
for  later  discoveries,  this  might  have  stood  as  a 
good  working  hypothesis  ;  and  it  may  even  be  held 
to  have  some  share  in  the  meaning  which  we  shall 
assign  to  them.  Magic  is  not  only  the  science,  but 
it  lies  at  the  very  root  of  the  religion  and  social 
arrangements,  of  primitive  folk,  and  it  may  well 
have  its  part  in  the  explanation  to  be  advanced  for 
the  universal  prevalence  of  these  mysterious  signs. 

ii.  (a)  It  has  been  held  that  cup-  and  ring-mark- 
ings were  connected  with  astrology  and  intended 
for  rude  maps  or  plans  of  the  stellar  and  planetary 
heavens.  This  theory  need  not  detain  us,  as  it 
could  not  by  any  possibility  apply  except  to  a  very 
few  cases,  in  which  the  designs  may  seem  to  be 
arranged  in  some  sort  of  definite  order  having  some 
resemblance  to  the  position  of  the  constellations  in 
the  sky,  or  some  appearance  of  being  intended  to 
represent  the  sun,  moon,  and  planets. 

\b)  There  is  the  view  that  they  were  intended 
for  maps  of  the  locality,  marking  the  position  of 
the  neighbouring  raths,  or  oppiala,  for  the  benefit 
of  wayfarers,  whether  the  inhabitants  themselves 
or  strangers.  This  theory  is  associated  with  the 
names  of  Greenwell  and  Wilkinson  in  England, 
and  of  Graves  in  Ireland,  and  was  definitely  applied 
by  the  latter  to  the  Irish  examples. 

(c)  There  is  also  the  view  that  they  were  a  primi- 
tive mode  of  im-iting,  or  at  least  of  communicating 
ideas.  This  theory  was  propounded  by  Rivett- 
Carnac  as  an  appendage  or  alternative  to  his  theory 
that  they  were  connected  with  lingam-woiship. 
In  1903  he  read  a  paper  before  the  Royal  Asiatic 
Society  entitled  '  Cup-marks  as  an  archaic  Form 
of  Inscription,'  in  which  he  suggested  that  they 
were  '  a  very  ancient  form  of  writing. ' 

In  discussing  our  own  theory  we  shall  see  how 
these  two  ideas  may  be  combined,  by  a  reference 
not  only  to  the  evidence  from  Australia,  but  also 
to  the  '  painted  pebbles,'  with  alphabetiform  signs, 
which  Piette  discovered  in  the  cave  of  Mas  d'Azil 
in  the  Pyrenees,  and  which  belong  to  the  Palaeo- 
lithic Age,  and  to  the  similar  signs  found  on  and 
in  dolmens  in  Portugal  in  the  same  year,  down  to 
the  signs  which  distinguish  the  work  turned  out 
by  modern  potteries  in  civilized  lands.  It  may  be 
noted  here  that  Wood-Martin  also  had  already 
suggested  that  cup-  and  ring-markings  '  might  be 
the  first  step  made  by  primitive  man  towards 
writing'  (Pagan  Ireland,  p.  571).  E.  Cartailhac 
had  made  the  same  suggestion  in  1889  in  his  La 
France  prihistorique  d'apris  les  sepultures  et  les 
inonuments  (p.  247). 

3.  Cup-  and  ring-markings,  in  the  light  thrown 
upon  them  by  recent  research  and  discoveries 
among  the  native  races  of  Northern  and  Central 
Australia. — In  the  year  1899,  Spencer-Gillen's  epoch- 
making  book  on  The  Native  Tribes  of  Central 
Australia  was  published.  It  was  followed  in  1904 
by  the  same  authors'  Northern  Tribes  of  Central 
Australia,  and  in  the  same  year  A.  W.  Howitt's 
Native  Tribes  of  South-East  Australia  was  pub- 
lished. These,  with  K.  Langloh  Parker's  The 
Euahlayi  Tribe  (London,  1905),  and  the  researches 
of  R.  H.  Mathews  and  other  travellers  and  ob- 
servers, are  our  authorities  on  the  tribal  and 
social  arrangements  and  customs  of  the  Australian 
aborigines. 

The  characteristic  feature  of  all  these  tribes  is 


that  society  is  organized  on  a  basis  of  totemism 
(q.v. ),  in  relation  to  which  cup-  and  ring-markings 
are  found  to  have  a  living  and  definite  significance. 

Some  few  years  ago  the  theory  now  under  consideration  might 
have  been  included  under  those  which  would  give  a  religious 
significance  to  cup-  and  ring-markings,  but  recent  research  has 
made  that  impossible. 

J.  G.  Frazer,  in  his  great  work  on  Totemism  and  Exogamy 
(4  vols.,  London,  1910),  has  proved  that  totemism  does  not  belong 
to  the  category  of  religion,  but  is  altogether  of  social  significance, 
and  this  was  the  opinion  of  many  students  before  the  publica- 
tion of  his  book  settled  the  matter  for  all  time.  Totemism  is 
not  religion,  because  religion  implies  reverence  and  worship,  and 
the  totem  is  never  worshipped,  though  it  is  treated  with  respect. 
It  is  the  brother,  never  the  god,  of  its  human  relations. 

Before  we  can  exhibit  the  relationship  between 
cup-  and  ring-marking  and  totemism,  however,  we 
must  first  deal,  as  briefly  as  possible,  with  totemism 
as  it  exists  in  Australia,  especially  among  the 
Arunta. 

The  Arunta  reckon  by  male  descent,  but  their  totemism  is 
special  and  peculiar  in  that  it  is  reckoned  by  locality  and  not  by 
parentage  at  all,  i.e.  every  child,  no  matter  what  the  totem  of 
its  parents  may  be,  belongs  to  the  totem  of  the  district  in  which 
it  may  happen  to  be  born.  The  Arunta  system  is  based  on  the 
following  beliefs.  They  hold  that  each  living  Arunta  is  de- 
scended from,  or  rather  is  the  re-incarnation  of,  an  ancestor  who 
lived  in  what  are  known  as  the  '  Alcheringa'  (q.v.)  times.  Each 
of  these  Alcheringa  ancestors  is  represented  as  carrying  about 
with  him  or  her  one  of  the  sacred  stones  or  sticks,  which  are 
called  by  the  Arunta  churinga.  Each  of  these  ckuringa  is 
closely  associated  with  the  spirit  part  of  some  individual.  In 
the  place  where  they  originated  or  stayed,  as  in  the  case  of  some 
of  the  Witchetty  Grub  people,  or  where  they  camped  in  their 
wanderings,  there  were  found  what  the  natives  call  oknanikilla, 
i.e.  local  totem  centres.  At  each  of  these  spots  a  certain  num- 
ber of  the  Alcheringa  ancestors  went  into  the  ground,  each 
carrying  his  churinga  with  him.  His  body  died,  but  some 
natural  feature,  Buch  as  a  tree  or  rock,  rose  to  mark  the  spot, 
while  his  spirit  part  remained  in  the  ekuringa.  Thus  the 
country  is  dotted  over  with  these  oknanikilla,  each  one  con- 
nected with  one  totem.  The  rock  or  the  tree  marking  the 
spirit's  abode  is  known  as  the  spirit's  nanja,  and  it  is  this  idea 
of  spirit  individuals  associated  with  the  churinga,  and  resident 
in  certain  definite  spots,  which  is  at  the  root  of  the  totemic 
system  of  the  Arunta  tribe.  These  spirits  are  ever  waiting  to 
be  re-born,  and  consequently  they  are  ever  on  the  look-out  for 
likely  women  through  whom  they  may  receive  re-incarnation. 
Hence  arises  the  most  curious  feature  of  Arunta  beliefs,  and  the 
most  marked  characteristic  of  their  life.  They  are  entirely 
ignorant  of  the  meaning  and  effect  of  sexual  intercourse.  Ac- 
cording to  their  belief,  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  actual  pro- 
duction of  offspring  ;  at  best  it  only  prepares  the  woman  for  the 
entry  of  the  spirit-child.  Consequently  a  woman  never  knows 
when  a  spirit-child  may  enter  her  womb,  and,  as  a  result, 
wherever  she  may  become  aware  that  she  has  conceived  a  child 
it  belongs  to  the  totem  of  that  locality  irrespective  of  the  totem 
to  which  she  or  her  husband  may  belong.  Hence,  among  the 
Arunta  the  exogamous  classes  are  totally  distinct  from  the 
totemic  clans.  The  child  inherits  the  churinga  nanja  of  bis 
ancestral  spirit,  and  consequently  belongs  to  his  own  ancestral 
totem.  In  some  localities  the  spirits  are  particularly  active,  in 
others  they  are  more  otiose,  but  the  result  is  the  same  in  all 
cases — when  the  spirit-child  enters  a  woman,  the  churinga  is 
dropped.  When  the  child  is  born,  the  mother  tells  the  father 
the  position  of  the  tree  or  rock  near  to  which  she  supposes  the 
child  to  have  entered  her,  and  he  and  his  friends  then  Bearch 
for  the  dropped  churinga.  This  is  usually,  but  not  always, 
supposed  to  be  a  stone  one  marked  with  the  device  peculiar  to 
the  totem  of  the  spot,  and  therefore  of  the  new-born  child.  If 
it  should  not  be  found,  as  is  soinetimes  the  case,  a  wooden  one 
is  made  from  the  tree  nearest  to  the  nanja,  and  the  device 
peculiar  to  the  totem  is  carved  upon  it. 

In  each  oknanikilla,  or  local  totem  centre,  there  is  a  spot 
known  as  the  ertnatulunga.  This  is  the  sacred  storehouse, 
usually  some  cave  or  crevice  in  some  unfrequented  spot  among 
the  hills  carefully  concealed.  In  it  are  numbers  of  the  churinga, 
often  carefully  tied  up  in  bundles.  (With  this  custom  and  the 
ideas  connected  with  it,  Frazer  ['  Folklore  in  the  Old  Testament,' 
in  Anthropological  Essays  presented  to  E.  B.  Tylor,  Oxf.  19071 
compares  the  phrase  used  in  1  S  2529.)  The  name  churinga,  il 
should  be  noted,  means  a  sacred  and  secret  emblem.  No 
woman,  under  pain  of  death,  may  ever  pry  into  the  secrets  ol 
the  ertnatulunga  ;  boys  on  initiation  at  puberty  are  allowed  to 
see  and  handle  their  churinga  nanja  ;  it  is  part  of  the  ceremon) 
of  admission  to  the  mysteries  of  the  tribe — but  onl}'  a  part. 
Another  and  very  important  part  is  the  painting  on  face  and 
body  of  the  youth  who  has  successfully  passed  through  the 
ceremonies  of  initiation,  and  is  considered  worthy  of  the  honour, 
with  the  device  peculiar  to  his  totem,  and  he  is  then  taken  to 
the  ertnatulunga.  The  old  women  know  that  he  has  been  there, 
though  they  know  nothing  of  the  ceremonies.  To  the  younger 
women  it  is  a  matter  of  the  deepest  mystery,  for  no  woman  dare 
approach  the  gap  in  which  is  the  sacred  rock-painting,  and  near 
to  which  lies  the  ertnatulunga. 

The  above  description  of  the  beliefs  and  cere- 
monies of  the   Arunta  was   necessary  to  the  full 


366 


CUP-  AND  RING-MARKINGS 


understanding  of  our  subject,  and  it  has  brought 
us  at  last  to  rock-paintings.  These  are  not 
peculiar  to  the  Arunta  ;  they  have  been  noted  all 
over  Australia.  But  those  previously  described 
are  not  of  the  special  type  which  concerns  our  pur- 
pose, which  are  found  among  the  Arunta.  These 
rock-paintings  fall  into  two  groups:  (a)  ordinary 
rock-drawings  similar  to  those  already  known,  and 
corresponding  with  the  drawings  of  the  Palaeolithic 
cave-people,  the  primitive  Egyptians,  Italians, 
and  others,  in  many  parts  of  the  world,  and  the 
Bushmen  among  modern  savages  ;  and  (b)  certain 
other  drawings  which  belong  to  a  class  of  designs 
called  churinga  ilkinia,  and  regarded  as  sacred,  or 
secret,  mysteries,  because  they  are  associated  with 
the  totems.  Each  local  totemic  group  has  certain 
of  these  belonging  to  the  group,  and  preserved  on 
rock  surfaces  which  are  strictly  tabu  to  the  women, 
children,  and  uninitiated  men.  The  designs  on 
these  churinga  ilkinia,  as  on  the  churinga  nanja, 
are  each  distinctive  of  some  special  totem,  and  are 
so  understood  by  the  initiated  natives.  Now  these 
special  totemic  designs  of  the  Arunta  consist  of 
precisely  the  same  patterns  as  the  rock-sculpturings 
or  paintings  which  are  the  subject  of  this  article. 
They  may  all  be  classed  as  cup-  and  ring-markings. 
There  is  the  central  dot  corresponding  to  the  cup, 
surrounded  by  concentric  circles  or  semi-circles, 
and  arranged  in  varying  patterns,  sometimes  joined 
by  lines  which  run  through  and  connect  them, 
exactly  as  the  ducts  do  in  the  sculpturings,1  and 
each  varying  pattern  has  its  own  distinctive  mean- 
ing which  the  native  at  «nce  recognizes.  One 
pattern  belongs  to  the  Witchetty  Grub  totem, 
while  others  belong  to  the  Emu,  Kangaroo,  Plum- 
tree,  Snake,  Sun,  Moon,  etc.,  totems,  as  the  case 
may  be. 

Considering,  then,  that  primitive  man  may  be 
held  to  have  everywhere,  though  with  local  modifi- 
cations, passed  through  the  same  or  similar  stages 
in  his  evolution  from  the  lower  to  the  higher  plane 
of  social  organization,  we  may  hold  that  we  are 
justified  in  assuming  that  in  these  Arunta  drawings 
and  designs,  with  their  well-known  and  recognized 
significance,  we  have,  as  Wood-Martin  suggested 
(Pagan  Ireland,  p.  47,  note),  the  solution  of  our 
problem,  and  may  with  confidence  assert  that  the 
basal  meaning  of  cup-  and  ring-markings,  wherever 
found,  whether  belonging  to  pre-historie  primitive 
man  in  Europe  or  Asia,  or  to  modern  primitive 
man  in  Australia,  is  not  religious,  but  social ;  that, 
wherever  found,  they  were  totemic  in  their  origin, 
and  are  connected  with  magic  but  not  with 
religion. 

Thus  these  mysterious  signs  may  with  justice  be 
said  to  constitute  the  '  heraldry  of  primitive  man,' 
and  they  would  be  known  and  understood  by  all 
whom  it  might  concern,  even  as  the  Arunta  under- 
stand them  to-day,  just  as  the  followers  of  a 
mediaeval  knight,  his  squires  and  men-at-arms, 
recognized  the  blazon  on  the  shield  of  their  lord, 
or  the  crest  on  his  helmet  in  battle  or  joust,  or 
the  pennon  fluttering  from  his  castle  keep,  and  as 
the  flag  is  recognized  among  civilized  nations  at 
the  present  day. 

It  would  take  us  too  far  to  trace  the  possible 
connexion  between  the  now  discovered  totemic 
significance  of  cup-  and  ring-markings  and  the 
lihgam-cvlt  or  Nature-worship  of  a  later  stage  of 
culture,  but  we  may  note  the  primitive  phase  of 
this  idea  in  the  Arunta  theory  of  the  spirit-child 
conceived  beside  some  sacred  rock  or  tree.  A 
similar  notion  meets  us,  as  Rivett-Carnac  points 
out,  in  Switzerland  and  Italy,  and  probably 
further  research  would  find  it  elsewhere  also.    The 

1  Munro  (op.  cit.  p.  219)  says,  '  The  cup-and-ring  with  gutter 
channels  has  not  been  found  outside  the  British  Isles,'  but  in 
Australia  the  line  represents  the  'trutter  channel.1 


spirit-child  belongs  to  the  totem  of  the  locality  in 
which  it  is  conceived,  and  the  churinga — both  the 
nanja,  the  portable  stone  or  stick,  and  the  ilkinia, 
the  rock-drawing,  each  sacred  and  secret — is  the 
totem-badge,  bearing  the  special  design  peculiar 
to  that  totem.  Here  we  have  its  living  and  present 
significance.  Ancient  rocks  and  stones  inscribed 
with  cup-  and  ring-markings  are  in  many  parts  of 
Europe  associated  with  ideas  belonging  to  the 
worship  of  the  generative  powers.  Menhirs  and 
monoliths  not  only  have  those  marks,  but  are  them- 
selves symbolic  or  the  mystery  of  the  reproduction 
of  life.  In  Switzerland  they  are  still  known  as 
'  the  babies'  stone,'  and,  hearing  this  primitive 
notion  in  mind,  we  may  see  a  justification  for 
describing  simple  cup-markings  on  standing  stones 
as  representing  inverted  female  breasts,  as  is  done 
in  art.  Canaanites  (vol.  iii.  p.  178").  With  the 
same  association  of  ideas  in  Brittany  and  other 
Celtic  districts,  childless  women  bring  offerings 
to  the  menhir,  and  more  than  one  standing-stone 
has  been  christianized  by  the  placing  of  a  cross 
upon  its  summit. 

Finally,  it  is  quite  possible  that  in  cup-  and  ring- 
markings  we  also  behold  one  of  the  earliest  efforts 
of  mankind  to  convey  ideas  by  means  of  signs,  and 
that  in  this  sense  therefore  they  are  a  form  of  writ- 
ing. The  Arunta  read  their  meaning  both  in  the 
rock-paintings,  the  churinga  ilkinia,  and  upon  the 
sacred  sticks  or  stones,  the  churinga  nanja,  and 
indeed  have  been  known  on  occasion  to  employ 
the  latter  as  'message-sticks  or  stones,'  although 
in  their  case  the  churinga  is  more  in  the  nature  of 
a  safe-conduct,  rendering  the  bearer  tabu,  than  an 
actual  means  of  conveying  ideas.  Other  tribes,  as 
the  Itchimundi,  employ  real  message-sticks,  but 
they  are  merely  a  kind  of  tally  to  mark  the  heads 
of  the  message,  and  the  markings  have  no  special 
meaning  as  conventional  signs  to  convey  a  definite 
announcement.  Still  these  signs,  and  such  as  the 
Palaeolithic  folk  inscribed  on  the  pebbles  at  Mas 
d'Azil,  or  such  as  are  found  on  Neolithic  dolmens 
in  Portugal  and  in  certain  parts  of  Scotland,  may 
lie  at  the  root  of  the  alphabets  of  the  ^Egean,  and 
form  the  germ  of  our  European  alphabets.  But, 
if  cup-  and  ring-markings  are  to  be  taken  at  all  as 
a  method  of  conveying  ideas,  i.e.  as  a  method  of 
writing,  it  can  only  be  of  the  very  rudest,  com- 
pared with  which  oghams  and  runes  are  finished 
alphabets.  It  is  better  to  take  them  simply  as 
totemic  signs,  having  regard  to  their  Arunta 
affinity,  and  to  relate  them  to  heraldic  tokens  and 
modern  potters'  marks  as  being  tribal  and  family 
badges  and  marks  of  ownership. 

Literature. — There  is  a  succession  of  articles  in  Journ.  Brit. 
ArchoBol.  Assoc,  in  the  following  order  :  vol.  xvi.  (I860),  Sir  J. 
Gardner  Wilkinson,  '  On  the  Rock-basins  of  Dartmoor ' ;  xxix. 
(1873) ;  J.  S.  Phen6,  '  On  the  Uniformity  of  Design  and  Purpose 
in  the  Works  and  Customs  of  the  earliest  Settlers  in  Britain  ' ; 
xxxv.  (1879),  J.  Romilly  Allen,  'Pre-historic  Rock  -sculptures  at 
Ilkley ' ;  xxxvi.  (1879),  C.  W.  Dymond,  '  Cup-Markings  on 
Burley  Moor ' ;  xlviii.  (1892),  rieien  J.  M.  Russell, '  A  recent  Dis- 
covery at  Rome  in  Connection  with  Mythology  and  Symbolism 
in  Britain,'  also  lii.  (1896),  '  Some  Rock-cuttings  in  Northumber- 
land ' ;  lvi.  (1900),  Ivii.  (1901),  lix.  (1903),  and  lx.  (1904),  a  series 
of  articles  by  the  present  writer  leading  up  to  the  conclusions 
arrived  at  in  this  article.  The  classical  book  on  the  subject, 
for  its  date,  is,  of  course,  Sir  J.  Y.  Simpson,  Archaic  Sculptur- 
ings of  Cups,  Circles,  etc.,  upon  Stones  and  Rocks,  Edinburgh, 
1867.  As  regards  the  Arunta  and  other  Australian  natives, 
Spencer-Gillens-  (1899),  t>  (1904),  and  Howitt  (1904)  are  the 
authorities.  See  also  E.  S.  Rivett-Carnac,  '  Cup-marks  as  an 
archaic  Form  of  Inscription,'  Journ.  M.  Asiatic  Soc.  1903 ; 
Andrew  Lang:,  Magic  and  Religion,  London,  1901,  with  a 
chapter  on  '  "  Cup  and  Ring  "  :  An  old  Problem  solved,'  sug- 
gesting a  very  similar  solution  to  that  here  put  forward,  and 
The  Secret  of  the  Totem,  London,  1905,  by  the  same  author 
Lord  Avebury,  Pre-historic  Times6,  London,  1900  ;  R.  Munro, 
Prehistoric  Scotland,  Edinburgh,  1899;  W.  Crooke,  -P.fi", 
Westminster,  1896  ;  M.  Hoernes,  Urgesch,  der  bildenden  Kunst 
in  Europa,  Vienna,  1898,  also  Der  dihiviale  Mensch  in  Europa, 
Brunswick,  1903  ;  E.  B.  Tylor,  Prim.  CultA,  London,  1903 ;  J. 
Cooke,  Wakeman's  Handbook  of  -Ir.  Ant.,  London,  1903 
W.  G.  Wood-Martin.  Pa/ian  Ireland.  London,  1896 :   S.  R 


CURSING  AND  BLESSING 


367 


Driver,  Modern  Jiesearch  as  illustrating  the  Bible  (Schweich 
Lect.),  London,  1909 ;  R.  A.  S.  Macalister,  Bible  Side-lights 
from  Gezer,  London,  1906  ;  G.  Schumacher,  Tell  el-Mutesellim, 
Leipzig,  1908.  References  to  many  additional  sources  of  infor- 
mation are  given  in  Lord  Avebury's  Pre-historic  Times,  and 
R.  Munro's  Prehistoric  Scotland. 

H.  J.  DUKINFIELD  ASTLEY. 

CURSING  AND  BLESSING.— I.  Introduc- 
tory.— Cursing  and  blessing  are  perfect  opposites, 
and  are  therefore  appropriately  taken  together  for 
analysis  and  description.  The  preponderance  of 
evil-wishing  over  good- wishing  is  obvious,  but  de- 
serves consideration.  Like  the  preponderance  of 
evil  spirits  over  good  spirits  in  early  religions,  it 
points  to  absence  of  harmony  or  failure  of  adapta- 
tion in  the  relations  of  man  to  Nature  and  of  man 
to  man.  But  this  very  defect  may  be  a  condition 
of  progress,  a  mark  of  the  struggle. 

The  habit,  in  its  twofold  or  polar  aspect,  is  uni- 
versal both  in  ordinary  social  life  and  in  religion, 
organized  and  unorganized.  It  transcends  all  dis- 
tinctions of  race,  and  is,  in  fact,  a  permanent  out- 
come of  the  working  together  of  language  and 
thought ;  for  by  this  double  mechanism  are  ex- 
pressed wish  and  will,  desire  and  determination, 
in  that  form  which  is,  as  it  were,  midway  between 
psychosis  and  action.  This  does  not  imply  that 
verbal  utterance  is  a  stage  preceding  action  ;  we 
describe  it  as  intermediate,  just  because  cursing 
and  blessing  in  their  earlier  forms  have  the  appear- 
ance of  being  based  on  an  unconscious  theory  that 
the  word  is  nearer  the  end  than  is  the  wish,  and 
that  the  act  alone  reaches,  or  rather  is,  the  end. 
It  follows  that,  in  the  fluid  state  of  categorical 
thought  which  we  assume  for  early  culture,  it 
would  be  both  easy  and  natural  to  assimilate  the 
spoken  wish  to  the  realized  fact,  by  any  appropriate 
means.  Such  artificial  actualizing  of  the  blessing 
or  the  curse  is  typical  of  all  except  the  higher 
stages  of  the  evolution.  It  will  De  illustrated 
later  on.  In  passing,  we  may  note  that  to  describe 
such  assimilation  as  a  '  material '  or  '  concrete ' 
tendency,  or  to  describe  the  primitive  mind  as 
being  essentially  '  materialistic,'  is  to  draw  a  false 
distinction.  In  view  of  the  very  rudimentary 
analysis  of  natural  laws  and  of  mental  categories 
arrived  at  by  early  man,  it  is  better  to  describe 
his  mental  operations  by  some  such  term  as  holo- 
psychosis,  or  '  whole-thinking,'  just  as  his  language 
has  been  described  as  holophrastic.  All  the  com- 
ponents are  there,  but  they  have  not  yet  been 
resolved.  The  examples  cited  below  will  illustrate 
this  also,  besides  serving  to  indicate  that  some  of 
the  earliest  cases  of  human  '  expression  '  are  actu- 
ally less  material  and  less  concrete  than  the  latest. 

The  curse  and  the  blessing  are  an  excellent  ex- 
ample of  a  product  of  the  two  powers — thought 
and  word  (or  logos) — and  of  the  inhibition  of  such 
a  product  from  becoming  fact.  The  reasons  for 
the  inhibition  need  no  description  ;  they  are,  how- 
ever, the  defining  conditions  of  the  curse  or  blessing 
as  such,  though  these  conditions  are  always,  as  it 
were,  about  to  be  transcended.  This  result  is  most 
conspicuous  at  the  highest  point  of  the  curve  traced 
by  the  general  habit,  and  corresponding  to  a  stage 
when  words,  as  such,  possess  more  moment  than 
they  do  either  before  or  after.  As  distinguished 
from  desire  on  the  one  hand  and  from  actualiza- 
tion (in  artificial  embodiment)  on  the  other,  the 
curse  or  the  blessing  is  the  spoken  word.  We  may 
well  suppose  that  the  ascription  to  words  of  such 
super-verbal  potency  as  a  typical  curse  involves 
coincides  with  a  period  of  mental  evolution,  and  of 
linguistic  evolution,  when  man  became  at  last 
completely  conscious  of  the  'power  of  speech,'  of 
the  faculty  which  he  had  so  laboriously  acquired. 
Then  the  word  was  res,  not  nomen.  The  arrival 
at  such  a  point  of  realization  amounts  to  a  crystal- 
lizing out  of  at  least  one  important  category  from 


the  primal  fluid  of  nervous  life.  It  will  be  noticed 
that,  if  terms  like  'concrete'  and  'material'  are 
employed,  we  must  admit  that  the  half-civilized 
and  highly  organized  Moor  is  more  '  primitive ' 
than  the  lowest  savage. 

It  also  seems  to  the  writer  an  unnecessary  and 
illegitimate  proceeding  to  draw  a  sharp  division 
between  the  magical  and  the  religious  blessing  or 
curse,  or  to  assign  priority  to  the  former  type.  A 
savage  Australian  may  curse  his  fellow  mentally 
or  verbally,  in  a  form  as  far  removed  from  magic 
as  profane  swearing  among  civilized  men  is  from 
religion.  Or,  again,  if  he  has  a  god,  he  may  invoke 
him  to  execute  his  spoken  wish.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  find  the  higher  religions  frequently  adopt- 
ing a  magical  form ;  and  we  can  sometimes  trace 
the  religious  form  passing  into  the  magical.  The 
distinction,  in  fact,  between  magic  and  religion, 
as  the  form  of  man's  relation  to  his  environment, 
seems  to  be  a  matter  of  temperament  rather  than 
of  time.  Two  types  certainly  exist  for  cursing 
and  blessing,  and  they  will  be  fully  discussed  below; 
here  it  is  premised  that  we  have  no  right  to 
assume  the  priority  of  the  magical  type,  or  even 
its  exclusion,  simultaneously,  of  the  religious. 
There  are,  moreover,  many  neutral  cases. 

2.  General  character. — A  curse  or  blessing  is 
a  wish,  expressed  in  words,  that  evil  or  good  may 
befall  a  certain  person.  The  wish  may  be  expressed 
by  a  god  or  spirit,  in  which  case  it  is  a  fiat,  and  is 
wish,  will,  and  fact  in  one.  It  may  be  expressed 
for  the  speaker's  own  good  or  ill.  It  may  be,  again, 
a  mere  wish  or  will ;  or  an  appeal  to  another  (usu- 
ally a  supernatural)  person  to  execute  it ;  or  accom- 
panied by,  or  embodied  in,  a  material  object.  This 
may  be  an  image  of  the  result  desired  ;  a  vehicle  of 
transmission  ;  an  object  representing  the  curse  or 
the  blessing ;  or  a  physical  action  by  the  speaker 
to;or  towards  the  intended  person. 

For  the  uttered  wish  without  condition,  reference,  or  assimi- 
lative action,  we  may  compare  the  case  vividly  described  by 
Turner.  The  Samoan  has  a  system  of  organized  cursing,  but  at 
times  he  resorts  to  the  natural  method,  and  curses  on  his  own 
responsibility.  Discovering  a  theft  from  his  garden,  he  shouts 
in  a  loud  voice,  '  May  fire  blast  the  eyes  of  the  person  who  has 
stolen  my  bananas  1 '  The  cry  '  rang  throughout  the  adjacent 
plantations,  and  made  the  thief  tremble.  They  dreaded  such 
uttered  imprecations.1 1  In  Luang-Sermata,  usual  curses  are  : 
'  Evil  shall  devour  you  !  Lightning  shall  strike  you  I '  and  so 
on.2  Such  is  the  type  of  the  simple  curse  or  blessing  found  in 
all  races,  and  surviving  belief  in  magic  and  in  supernatural 
sanctions  among  the  unthinking  members  of  the  highest 
civilization. 

When  accompanied  by  a  material  vehicle  or 
embodiment  or  action,  assimilative  or  assisting 
or  symbolic,  the  adhesions  of  the  wish  become 
innumerable,  for  it  links  itself  to  the  phenomena 
of  every  form  of  tabu,  magic,  and  symbolism.  At 
the  back  of  all  these  there  is  the  primary  connexion 
with  neuro-muscular  discharge.  Here  the  wish  may 
be  simultaneous  with,  or  subsequent  to,  the  im- 
pulsive action,  just  as  will  may  be  not  prior  to, 
but  accompanying  or  following,  an  action  of  which 
it  is  the  cerebral  echo. 

In  Melanesia  the  act  of  blessing  involves  the  bestowal  of  mana 
by  physical  contact.  A  man  will  give  a  boy  a  start  in  the  wo#l 
by  placing  his  hand  on  the  boy's  head,  thus  imparting  to  him 
a  portion  of  his  own  mysterious  power.3  In  the  Solomon 
Islands,  inland  people  are  supposed  to  have  more  mana  than 
coast  people.  When  they  go  clown  to  the  coast,  they  consider- 
ately avoid  spreading  out  their  fingers,  for  to  point  the  fingers 
at  a  man  is  to  shoot  him  with  a  '  charm.'  4  Blessing  among  the 
Masai  consisted  of  spitting  upon  the  recipient.1*  Far  more 
common  is  the  use  of  this  vehicle  for  the  curse,  or  as  a  symbol 
of  contempt  or  insult.8  So  the  Masai  Bpat  while  cursing.  '  If 
a  man  while  cursing  spite  in  his  enemy's  eyes,  blindness  is 
supposed  to  follow.'*    The  Sakai  are  believed  to  be  able  to  do 

1  G.  Turner,  Samoa,  Lond.  1884,  p.  184. 

2  J.  G.  F.  Riedel,  De  sluik-  en  kroesharige  rassen,  Hague,  1886, 
p.  317. 

s  R.  H.  Codrington,  JAI  x.  [1881]  286. 

4  lb.  303. 

B  J.  Thomson,  Through  Masai  Land,  Lond.  1887,  p.  166  ft. 

6  Riedel,  269,  296,  406. 

^  S.  L.  and  H.  Hinde,  Last  of  the  Masai,  1901,  p.  48. 


368 


CURSING  AND  BLESSING 


injury  by  'sendings'  and  'pointings.'1  Among  the  Fiort  of 
West  Africa,  a  sale  of  property  becomes  complete  when  the 
seller  has  '  blessed  '  the  article  sold.  He  raises  his  hands  to  his 
arm-pits,  and  throws  them  out  towards  the  buyer.  Then  he 
breathes  or  blows  over  the  article.  This  ceremony  is  called 
ku  nana  mula,  'giving  the  breath,'  and  is  equivalent,  says 
Dennett,  to  a  '  God  bless  thee.  "2  It  seems  rather  to  be  a  per- 
sonal imposition  of  the  speaker's  good-will  upon  both  buyer  and 
thing  bought,  without  any  supernatural  reference.  There  is 
here  as  yet  no  symbolism ;  the  intention  is  immediate.  Ex- 
amples ©f  symbolism  might  be  multiplied  indefinitely.  The 
shaking  off  of  the  dust  of  the  feet  is  a  familiar  case.  In  Morocco 
a  suppliant  at  the  slyid  of  a  saint  will  call  down  misfortune  upon 
an  enemy  by  sweeping  the  floor  with  his  cloak,  praying  that  the 
enemy  may  be  swept  likewise.3  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point 
out  that  mere  impulsive  action,  deliberate  magic,  and  symbolism 
shade  into  each  other  continually. 

Among  the  Hebrews,  a  blessing  was  imparted  by  the  imposi- 
tion of  hands.4  In  blessing  a  multitude,  the  hands  were  up- 
lifted.5 Refinements  are  inevitable  :  thus,  in  the  Greek  Church 
the  gesture  of  benediction  is  made  with  the  right  hand,  the 
thumb  touching  the  tip  of  the  ring-finger,  the  other  fingers 
being  erected.  In  the  Latin  use,  the  thumb,  fore,  and  middle 
fingers  are  erected,  the  others  being  doubled  on  the  palm  of  the 
hand.  In  the  Rabbinical  blessing,  the  priest  places  the  fingers 
of  both  hands  in  pairs— the  forefinger  with  the  middle,  the 
ring  with  the  little  finger,  the  tips  of  the  thumbs,  and  the  tips 
of  the  forefingers,  respectively  touching  one  another :  thus  the 
ten  fingers  are  in  six  divisions. 

Other  components  of  the  wish,  as  it  becomes  a  rite,  may  also 
undergo  differentiation.  Thus  the  Talmud  holds  that  the  mere 
power  of  the  spoken  word  is  efficacious.6  The  priest  pronounces 
the  blessing  in  a  loud  voice.  So,  in  Islam,  an  important  detail 
is  the  audibleness  of  the  benediction.  The  Talmud  also  speaks 
of  cursing  by  an  angry  look.  This  needs  to  be  fixed.  Such  a 
curse  has  been  described  as  a  '  mental  curse.'?  The  Ya&ts  have 
a  remarkable  dualistic  personification — 'the  cursing  Thought' 
of  the  Law  of  Mazda ;  the  '  strong  cursing  thought  of  the  wise 
man,  opposing  foes  in  the  shape  of  a  boar,  a  sharp-toothed 
he-boar,  a  sharp-jawed  boar,  that  kills  at  one  stroke,  pursuing, 
wrathful,  with  a  dripping  face,  strong  and  swift  to  run,  and 
rushing  all  around.'  On  the  other  hand  is  the  personification 
of  '  the  pious  and  good  Blessing.'  This  Blessing  (dfriti)  is  two- 
fold—by thought  and  by  words.  It  is  notable  that  the  blessing 
by  words  is  the  more  powerful ;  but  the  curse  (upamana)  by 
thought  is  more  powerful  than  that  by  words.8 

The  indeterminate  character  of  primitive  thought 
makes  interchange  easy  between  thought,  idea, 
word,  and  act,  and  also  between  mechanical, 
psychical,  and  verbal  force.  Thus  a  curse  or  bless- 
ing may  be  regarded  now  as  a  spirit,  now  as  a 
thing,  now  as  a  word,  but  in  each  case  it  is  charged 
with  energy.  Or,  again,  it  may  be  regarded  as 
travelling  along  a  material  or  psychical  conductor, 
or  as  embodied  in  a  material  object,  its  energy 
then  being  potential,  ready  to  become  kinetic  when 
discharged.  It  is  important  to  note  that  these 
early  views  are  held  in  comparatively  late  culture, 
especially  in  religion,  and  there  show  every  sign 
of  being  living  beliefs,  not  survivals. 

When  we  remember  the  emphasis  laid  in  all  but 
the  latest  culture  on  words  and  names,  we  can 
appreciate  the  confusion,  or  rather  the  shifting, 
between  the  material  and  the  verbal  notion  of  a 
curse  or  blessing.  Thus,  in  whatever  form  it  is  ex- 
pressed, the  curse  or  blessing,  like  all  expressions 
of  an  idea  enforced  by  strong  emotion,  has  a 
dynamical  certainty.  Irish  folklore  has  it  that  a 
curse  once  uttered  must  alight  on  something  ;  it 
will  float  in  the  air  seven  years,  and  may  descend 
any  moment  on  the  party  it  was  aimed  at ;  if  his 
guardian  angel  but  forsake  him,  it  takes  forthwith 
the  shape  of  some  misfortune,  sickness,  or  tempta- 
tion, and  strikes  his  devoted  head.9 

1  Curses '  in  old  Teutonic  proverbs  *  operate 
quickly';  they  are  *not  to  be  turned  aside.'10  What 
(irimm  describes  as  the  '  savage  heartiness*  of  the 
curses  which  he  records  is  the  emotional  force 
which  has  so  much  to  do  with  making  an  impression, 

1  Skeat  and  Blagden,  Pagan  Races  of  the  Malay  Peninsula, 
Lond.  1906,  ii.  199. 

2  R.  E.  Dennett,  At  the  Back  of  the  Black  Man's  Mind,  Lond. 
1906,  p.  48. 

:i  Westermarck,  '  L  'Ar,  or  the  Transference  of  Conditional 
'urses  in  Morocco,'  Anthropological  Essays  presented  to  E.  B. 
Vylor,  Oxford,  1907,  p.  371. 

*  Gn  48",  Mt  1913.  6  ]>  922,  Lk  2430. 

6  Ber.  19a,  56re.  7  C.  Levias,  in  JE,  s.v.  'Cursing." 

8  SBE  xxiii.  ('  Zend-Avesta,'  ii.)  12,  153. 

9  Wood-Martin,  Elder  Faiths  of  Ireland,  Lond.  1902,  ii.  57  f. 
,fl  Grimm,  Tent.  Myth.  (Eng.  ed.,  Lond.  1888)  iv.  1690. 


whether  in  the  direction  of  ( suggestion '  to  the 
victim  or,  generally,  of  the  ascription  of  '  power ' 
to  the  word  or  act.  Emotional  force  as  a  factor  in 
the  making  both  of  magic  and  of  religion  deserves 
recognition.  It  is  well  illustrated  by  blessings  and 
cursings  in  their  growth  ;  when  their  forms  are 
fixed,  naturally  the  form  is  everything,  and  a  curse 
uttered  casually  and  without  heat  may  still  be 
efficacious.  To  the  priestly  blessing  in  the  synagogue 
magical  powers  were  ascribed,  and  the  OT  states 
that  the  word  once  pronounced  is  irrevocable.1 
The  Talmud  warns  against  looking  at  the  priest 
while  he  is  pronouncing  the  blessing,  for  'the 
glory  of  God  is  on  him.'  It  is  a  natural  process  of 
suggestion  working  through  strength  of  emotion, 
fear  of  ill-will  and  enmity,  and  reinforced  by  a 
complex  of  associated  ideas  relating  to  the  essence 
of  words  and  the  energy  of  souls,  that  gives  to  the 
curse  or  blessing  its  independent  *  power.'  As  it 
is  put  by  Westermarck,  this 

'purely  magical  power,  independent  of  any  superhuman  will 
...  is  rooted  in  the  close  association  between  the  wish,  more 
particularly  the  spoken  wish,  and  the  idea  of  its  fulfilment. 
The  wish  is  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  energy  which  may  be 
transferred — by  material  contact,  or  by  the  eye,  or  by  means  of 
speech — to  the  person  concerned,  and  then  becomes  a  fact. 
This  process,  however,  is  not  taken  quite  as  a  matter  of  course  ; 
there  is  always  some  mystery  about  it.'2 

Just  as  sin  *  is  looked  upon  as  a  substance  charged 
with  injurious  energy,'  so  the  curse  is  *a  baneful 
substance,'8  like  the  materially  conceived  badi  of 
the  Malays,  and  the  l-bas  of  the  Moors.  Good  and 
evil  in  all  but  the  higher  stages  of  thought  are 
constantly  'embodied,'  either  by  analogy,  personi- 
fication, or  the  much  more  normal  and  prevalent 
mode  of  mere  mental  objectification.  To  illustrate 
this  last  we  may  compare  the  precisely  identical 
method,  used  in  science,  of  conceiving  of  a  force 
as  a  graphic  straight  line. 

This  conception  is  characteristic  of  the  curse 
and  blessing  in  their  social  and  religious  history. 
Arabs  when  being  cursed  will  lie  on  the  ground  that  the  curse 
may  fly  over  them.4  Among  the  Nandi,  *  if  a  son  refuses  to  obey 
his  father  in  any  serious  matter,  the  father  solemnly  strikes  the 
son  with  his  fur  mantle.  This  is  equivalent  to  a  most  serious 
curse,  and  is  supposed  to  be  fatal  to  the  son  unless  he  obtains 
forgiveness,  which  he  can  only  do  by  sacrificing  a  goat  before 
his  father.'6  Berbers  strip  before  taking  an  oath,  to  prevent 
it  from  clinging  to  their  clothes.6  Plato  speaks  of  being  '  tainted 
by  a  curse.''  Arabs  fear  'the  magical  nature'  of  an  oath.s  The 
'water  of  jealousy'  was  believed  by  the  Hebrews,  as  causing  a 
curse,  to  go  into  the  bowels,  to  make  the  belly  to  swell,  and  the 
thigh  to  rot.9  The  Kachinzes  'bless'  their  huts  by  sprinkling 
them  with  milk.10  The  Nubians,  before  eating  the  tongue  of  an 
animal,  cut  off  the  tip,  believing  that  'here  is  the  seat  of  all 
curses  and  evil  wishes.'11  Among  the  islanders  of  Leti,  Moa, 
and  Lakor,  a  man  who  has  quarrelled  with  a  woman  is  afraid 
to  go  to  war  lest  her  curses  may  bring  death.12 

Hence  the  recipient  of  a  curse  is  anxious  to  neutralize  or 
divert  it.  In  the  last  case  cited  the  man  is  at  pains  to  secure 
forgiveness  by  making  presents  to  the  woman.  In  Melanesia 
the  curse  is  an  engine  of  authority.  A  chief  will  curse  a  man 
by  way  of  a  legal  'injunction' ;  the  matter  is  put  right  by  the 
method  of  toto,  the  offering  of  a  gift.  On  receiving  this,  the 
chief  sacrifices  to  the  spirit,  lio'a,  on  whose  power  his  curse 
rested.13  In  Samoa  there  is  the  same  system,  particularly  for 
the  enforcement  of  the  rights  of  property.  In  a  case  of  theft, 
the  injured  party  gives  the  priest  a  fee  of  mats.  The  priest 
curses  the  thief ;  the  latter,  to  avoid  the  otherwise  inevitable 
result  of  sickness  or  death,  deposits  at  the  door  of  the  priest  an 
equivalent  for  the  stolen  property.  Then  the  priest  prays  over 
'the  death  bowl'  that  the  curse  may  be  'reversed.'14  The 
Maoris  employed  an  elaborate  ritual  for  cursing  and  its  reversal. 
The  latter  was  whakahokitu  ;  the  tohunga  employed  to  counterac 
the  curse  chanted  a  karakia  containing  such  words  as  these  : 

'  Great  curse,  long  curse, 

Great  curse,  binding  curse, 

Come  hither,  sacred  spell  I 

Cause  the  curser  to  lie  low 

In  gloomy  night ! ' 15 


1  Gn  27s5.        2  Westermarck,  MI,  1906,  i.  563.       s  Zb.  i.  66,  57. 

4  I.  Goldziher,  Arab.  Philul.,  Leyden,  1S96,  i.  29. 

5  Johnston,  Uganda  Protectorate,  Lond.  1902,  ii.  879. 

6  Westermarck,  MI,  i.  59.  7  Laios,  ix.  SSI. 

a  J.  L.  Burcknardt,  Bedouins  and  Wahdbys,  Lond.  1S30,  p.  T:( 
9  Nu  5llff-  10  J.  G.  Georgi,  Russia,  ed.  17SO-3,  iii.  275. 

11  G.  Schweinfurth,  The  Heart  of  Africa,  Lond.  1873,  ii.  320^. 

12  Riedel,  3S7. 

13  Oodrington,T/te  JJfe;^MJSians,Oxf."lS91,p.216.     14T,mi3r,30 
15  E.  Shortlar.d.  Maori  Religion,  Lond.  18S2,  p.  35. 


CURSING  AND  BLM3SING 


369 


The  Todas  have  a  curious  ceremony  for  anticipating  mischief 
to  the  sacred  cattle.  The  point  of  the  rite  is  that  the  assistant 
in  the  dairy,  the  kaltmokh,  is  cursed  and  then  the  curse  is  at 
once  removed.  The  dairy-priest,  the  palol,  pours  milk  and 
clarified  butter  into  the  outstretched  hands  of  the  kaltmokh, 
who  rubs  it  over  his  head  and  whole  body.  The  palol  chants  a 
curse:  'Die  may  he;  tiger  catch  him;  snake  bite  him;  steep 
hill  fall  down  on  him  ;  river  fall  on  him  ;  wild  boar  bite  him  P 
etc.  Rivers  infers  '  that  the  kaltmokh  is  being  made  responsible 
for  any  offence  which  may  have  been  committed  against  the 
dairies.  .  .  .  The  kaltmokh  having  been  cursed,  and  so  made 
responsible,  the  curse  is  then  removed  in  order  to  avoid  the 
evil  consequences  which  would  befall  the  boy  if  this  were  not 
done.'1  Toda  sorcerers  impose  diseases  by  cursing-spells, 
and  remove  them  with  some  such  formula  as, '  May  this  be  well ; 
disease  leave  1 ' 2  Thus  a  blessing  may  neutralize  a  curse. 
Micah's  mother  cursed  her  son  for  his  theft ;  when  he  confessed, 
she  rendered  the  curse  ineffective  by  a  blessing.  8 

Blessings  and  curses  are  capable  both  of  descent 
and  of  ascent,  genealogically.  Thus,  we  find  it 
stated  in  Sir  23u  that  'the  scourge  shall  not  depart 
from  his  house ' ;  and  in  Pr  207  '  a  just  man  that 
walketh  in  his  integrity,  blessed  are  his  children 
after  him.' 

The  Basutos  appear  to  have  the  belief  in  the  descent  of  the 
curse ;  Casalis  compares  it  with  the  case  of  Noah  and  Ham.4 
The  Greek  conception  of  the  Erinyes  laid  Btress  on  this  ;  a  curse 
might  work  down  to  the  grandchildren,  and  even  utterly 
extirpate  a  race.5  Among  the  Maoris,  '  to  bid  you  go  and  cook 
your  father  would  be  a  great  curse,  but  to  tell  a  person  to  go 
and  cook  his  great-grandfather  would  be  far  worse,  because  it 
included  every  individual  who  has  sprung  from  him.'6 

The  energy  of  a  curse  may  spread.  As  Irish 
folklore  puts  it,  it  'must  alight  on  something.' 
Plato  speaks  of  it  tainting  everything  with  which 
it  comes  in  contact. 

The  Bedawin  will  not  take  an  oath  within  or  near  the  camp, 
'  because  the  magical  nature  of  the  oath  might  prove  pernicious 
to  the  general  body  of  Arabs,  were  it  to  take  place  in  their 
vicinity. 7  The  Moors  hold  that  it  is  '  bad  even  to  be  present 
when  an  oath  is  taken.'8 

A  remarkable  detail  is  very  commonly  found, 
namely,  that  a  curse  may  return  to  the  man  who 
uttered  it.  '  Curses,  like  chickens,  come  home  to 
roost';  'they  turn  home  as  birds  to  their  nest.'9 
The  Karens  have  a  story  to  the  following  effect : 

'  There  was  a  man  who  had  ten  children,  and  he  cursed  one 
of  his  brethren,  who  had  done  him  no  injury ;  but  the  curse 
did  the  man  no  harm,  and  he  did  not  die.  Then  the  curse 
returned  to  the  man  who  sent  it,  and  all  his  ten  children  died.' i0 

Here  there  is  a  moral  valuation,  but  the  earlier 
non-moral  conception  of  the  intrinsic  energy  of  the 
curse  constitutes  the  point  of  the  story.  With  it 
may  be  compared  the  Roman  notion  that  certain 
imprecations  were  so  awful  that  even  the  utterer 
suffered  as  well  as  his  victim.11 

As  with  the  force  of  tabu  and  similar  concep- 
tions, physical  contact  is  the  most  efficacious 
means  of  'transmission.'  If  we  regard  the  curse 
or  blessing  as  being  the  mental  idea  of  a  desired 
material  result,  then,  like  all  ideas  in  an  impul- 
sive brain,  it  produces  motor  energy  in  the  form 
both  of  words  and  of  action.  Thus,  besides  the 
uttered  form,  we  have,  by  association,  paths  of 
realization  by  means  of  sympathetic  or  symbolic 
action.  Examples  have  been  cited  of  such  '  assist- 
ing'of  the  wish,  by  gestures,  direct  or  indirect. 
We  have  also,  by  association,  the  more  highly 
differentiated  method  of  sympathetic  or  symbolic 
creation.  A  material  model  or  symbol  of  the 
result  is  desiderated  as  a  pre-embodiment  of  it ; 
later  this  becomes  a  cause  and  a  guarantee  of  the 
result.  The  simplest  form  of  this  method  is  the 
use  of  the  'wax  image.'  In  this,  model  and 
symbol  shade  into  one  another.  The  image  repre- 
sents the  recipient,  and  the  utterer  of  the  wish 
either  utters  it  over  the  image,  or  works  upon  the 
image  the  material  result  wished  for. 

i  Rivers,  The  Todas,  1906,  p.  138ff. 

2  lb.  260.  3  jg  172. 

*  Basutos,  1861,  p.  805. 

6  /Eschylus,  Eumenides,  934  ff.  ;  Herod,  vi.  86  (the  case  of 
Glaucus  and  family). 

6  Taylor,  Te  Ika  a  Maui\  1870,  p.  94. 

1  Burckhardt,  p.  73.  a  Westermarck,  MI  i.  69. 

9  Grimm,  iv.  1690. 

1°  Mason,  in  J  AS  Bengal,  xxxvii.  [1868]  137. 
11  Plutarch,  Vita  Crassi,  16. 
VOL.  IV. — 24 


So  far,  we  have  cases  in  which  the  curse  or 
blessing  preserves  its  mental  or  verbal  character, 
'  mental '  being  taken  to  include  artistic  material- 
ization, as  in  sympathetic  magic.  For  the  curse 
or  blessing,  as  such,  is  distinguished  from  physical 
injury  or  physical  benefit  precisely  because  it 
stops  short  of  physical  action  by  the  subject  upon 
the  object.  But  the  two  were  bound  to  be  com- 
bined ;  the  mixed  type  of  curse  and  blessing  is  as 
common  as  the  pure,  and  in  certain  stages  of 
culture  is  considered  to  be  the  more  efficacious. 
The  bestowal  of  a  blessing  is  more  efficacious  when 
the  man  who  confers  it  touches  the  man  who 
receives  it.  When  dealing  with  '  vehicles '  and 
'  media '  of  curses  and  blessings,  we  are  not  en- 
titled to  suppose  that  even  in  their  highest  develop- 
ment the  mind  is  conscious  of  a  process  of  '  con- 
duction.' To  us  it  appears  obvious  that,  when  a 
suppliant  holds  one  end  of  a  string  to  the  other 
end  of  which  is  attached  his  protector,  each  should 
regard  the  string  as  a  bridge  or  a  wire  for  trans- 
mission. But  it  would  be  more  logical  to  credit 
them  with  a  correct,  than  an  incorrect,  application 
of  a  physical  law,  and  to  argue  that  they  consider 
will  to  be  conducted  by  any  part  of  the  ether 
rather  than  by  the  wire.  It  seems  more  consistent 
with  the  evidence  to  regard  these  '  conductors '  as 
being  merely  the  nearest  thing  to  physical  con- 
tact. The  sense  of  touch  is  bound  up  with  all 
direct  physical  action  upon  an  object,  well-doing 
and  ill-doing,  and  colours  all  ideas  of  it.  Similarly, 
when  we  read  of  curses  acting  at  a  distance — in 
the  case  of  the  Australian  sorcerer  at  a  hundred 
miles — we  are  not  entitled  to  credit  the  belief  with 
a  reasoned  or  even  unconscious  substratum  of  a 
quasi-scientific  theory  of  the  velocity  and  displace- 
ment of  an  imprecatory  particle.  It  is  quite 
possible  that  in  the  case  of  '  conductors '  of  various 
magical  '  forces, '  such  as  food  and  drink,  we  have 
to  deal  as  much  with  the  associational  idea  of 
property  as  with  that  of  kinship,  or  of  contagion. 
With  this  proviso,  such  metaphors  may  be  em- 
ployed.    Westermarck  writes : 

'  The  efficacy  of  a  wish  or  a  curse  depends  not  only  upon  the 
potency  which  it  possesses  from  the  beginning,  owing  to  certain 
qualities  in  the  person  from  whom  it  originates,  but  also  on  the 
vehicle  by  which  it  is  conducted — just  as  the  strength  of  an 
electric  shock  depends  both  on  the  original  intensity  of  the 
current  and  on  the  condition  of  the  conductor.  As  particularly 
efficient  conductors  are  regarded  blood,  bodily  contact,  food, 
and  drink.'  1 

As  early  types  of  the  ideas,  referred  to  above, 
which  are  connected  with  that  of  the  fulfilment  of 
a  wish,  we  may  cite  the  following  : 

A  Maori  would  say  to  a  stone :  '  If  this  were  your  (his 
enemy's)  brain,  how  very  sweet  would  be  my  eating  of  it.  Or 
he  might  call  any  object  by  the  name  of  his  enemy,  and  then 
proceed  to  strike  or  insult  it.  This  process  was  a  'curse,'  tapa 
tapa,  or  tuku  tuku.2  Here  is  the  material  for  the  development 
of  the  image-method  and  the  symbol-method.  In  the  Toda 
curse  the  recipient  apparently  has  it  rubbed  into  his  body  with 
milk  and  butter.  It  is  quite  legitimate  to  regard  this  as  a  case 
where  the  sound  and  the  breath  '  touch '  the  food,  and  hence  the 
recipient.  The  Moor  transmits  his  '  conditional  curse '  to  the 
man  appealed  to  for  protection  by  grasping  him  with  his  hands, 
or  by  touching  him  with  his  turban  or  a  fold  of  his  dress,  even  by 
grasping  his  child  or  his  horse.  '  In  short,  he  establishes  some 
kind  of  contact  with  the  other  person.'3  Psychologically  it  is  a 
case  of  prolepsis  rather  than  the  conduction  of  a  curse  whose 
fulfilment  is  only  contingent.  Similarly  the  Moorish  suppliant 
may  slay  an  animal  at  the  door  of  the  man.  If  the  latter  steps 
over  the  blood,  or  merely  sees  it,  he  incurs  a  conditional  curse. 
Such  a  curse  may  be  involved  in  the  food  eaten  at  a  meal  to 
seal  a  compact.  The  phrase  runs  that  '  the  food  will  repay ' 
him  who  breaks  it.  The  eaten  food  '  embodies  a  conditional 
curse.' 4  Conversely,  for,  as  Westermarck  puts  it,  '  the  magic 
wire  may  conduct  imprecations  in  either  direction,'  if  a  Moor 
gives  food  or  drink  to  another,  '  it  is  considered  dangerous,  not 
only  for  the  recipient  to  receive  it  without  saying  "  In  the  name 
of  God,"  but  also  for  the  giver  to  give  it  without  uttering  the 
same  formula  by  way  of  precaution.' 5  In  the  case  of  a  stranger 
receiving  milk,  it  is  held  that,  should  he  misbehave,  '  the  drink 
would  cause  his  knees  to  swell.'  6 


1  31 1  i.  580. 

3  Westermarck, 

5  lb.  i.  590. 


2  Taylor,  94. 
*  Jb.  587. 
6//.. 


370 


CURSING  AND  BLESSING- 


On  similar  principles  a  curse  may  be  applied  to 
something  that  has  belonged  to  the  recipient,  or 
to  something  that  may  come  in  his  way. 

The  aborigines  of  Victoria  'believe  that  if  an  enemy  gets 
possession  of  anything  that  has  belonged  to  them,  even  such 
things  as  bones  of  animals  which  they  have  eaten,  broken 
weapons,  feathers,  portions  of  dress,  pieces  of  skin,  or  refuse  of 
any  kind,  he  can  employ  it  as  a  charm  to  produce  illness  in 
the  person  to  whom  it  belonged.  They  are,  therefore,  very 
careful  to  burn  up  all  rubbish  or  uncleanness  before  leaving  a 
camping-place.  Should  anything  belonging  to  an  unfriendly 
tribe  be  found  at  any  time,  it  is  given  to  the  chief,  who  pre- 
serves it  as  a  means  of  injuring  the  enemy.  This  wuulon  is  lent 
to  any  one  of  the  tribe  who  wishes  to  vent  his  spite  against  any- 
one  belonging  to  the  unfriendly  tribe.  When  used  as  a  charm, 
the  iDuulon  is  rubbed  over  with  emu  fat,  mixed  with  red  clay, 
and  tied  to  the  point  of  a  spear-thrower,  which  is  stuck  upright 
in  the  ground  before  the  camp-fire.  The  company  sit  round 
watching  it,  but  at  such  a  distance  that  their  shadows  cannot 
fall  on  it.  They  keep  chanting  imprecations  on  the  enemy  till 
the  spear-thrower  turns  round  and  falls  in  his  direction.' l 

This  example  contains  in  solution  a  good  many 
of  the  principles  connected  with  cursing.  There 
is  also  the  buried  curse. 

In  Tenimber  one  can  make  a  man  ill  by  burying  in  his  path 
such  objects  as  sharp  stones  or  thornB,  uttering  a  curse 
during  the  burial.  These  articles  are  extracted  later  from  the 
victim's  body  by  the  surgeon.2  In  the  neighbouring  islands  of 
Leti,  Moa,  and  Lakor,  the  buried  articles  are  pieces  of  sirih  from 
the  victim's  own  box,  or  a  scrap  of  his  hair.  The  cursing 
accompanies  the  burial,  but  there  is  no  need  to  place  the 
embodied  curse '  in  the  man's  path.  Burial  is  enough,  for  here 
the  object  buried  is  a  part  of  the  man.3 

Thus  we  come  back  to  the  symbolized  result. 
Again,  in  connexion  with  tabu  upon  property, 
Codrington  observes  that  in  Melanesia 
'  a  tawim  approaches  to  a  curse,  when  it  is  a  prohibition  resting 
on  the  invocation  of  an  unseen  power,'  that,  namely,  of  the 
tindalo.*  In  Ceram  a  trespasser  incurs  the  sickness  wished  or 
determined  by  the  owner  who  embodied  it  in  a  tabu-mark.8  In 
Samoa  the  '  silent  hieroglyphic  taboo,'  or  tapui,  contains  a 
curse ;  thus,  the  white  shark  tabu,  a  coco-palm  leaf  cut  to 
represent  a  shark,  contains  the  wish,  '  May  the  thief  be  eaten  by 
a  white  shark  ! ' 6 

Even  before  the  ethical  stage  of  the  curse  or 
blessing  is  reached,  their  force  varies,  chiefly 
according  to  the  character  of  the  wisher.  There 
is,  of  course,  to  begin  with,  the  mere  *  power  of  the 
word '  or  of  the  wish ;  and  the  curse  of  any  one, 
*  however  ignorant '  he  may  be,  is  not  to  be  dis- 
regarded.7 But,  as  a  rule,  superiority  of  personal 
power  or  position  increases  the  power  of  the  bless- 
ing or  the  curse. 

Among  the  Tongans  the  curses  of  a  superior  possessed  great 
efficacy  ;  '  if  the  party  who  curses  is  considerably  lower  in  rank 
than  the  party  cursed,'  the  curse  had  no  effect.8  '  Without  any 
dispute  the  less  is  blessed  of  the  better.' 9  The  principle  of  the 
whakahokitu  ceremony  of  the  Maoris  is  that  a  curse  will  yield 
to  the  mana  of  a  man  who  can  summon  a  more  powerful  atua 
than  that  of  the  original  curser.10 

The  importance  and  influence  of  parents,  especi- 
ally of  the  father,  have  an  enormous  effect. 

The  Nandi  regard  a  father's  curse  as  being  ■  most  serious.'  11 
Among  the  Mpongwe  '  there  is  nothing  which  a  young  person 
so  much  deprecates  as  the  curse  of  an  aged  person,  and 
especially  that  of  a  revered  father.' 12  The  Moorish  proverb  has 
it  that '  if  the  saints  curse  you  the  parents  will  cure  you,  but 
if  the  parents  curse  you  the  saints  will  not  cure  you.' 13  The 
Hebrew  belief  in  the  inevitable  efficacy  of  a  father's  blessing  or 
curse  was  remarkable.  The  blessing  was  regarded  as  an  in- 
valuable heritage.  '  In  deed  and  word  honour  thy  father,  that 
a  blessing  may  come  upon  thee  from  him.  For  the  blessing  of 
the  father  establisheth  the  houses  of  children  ;  but  the  curse  of 
the  mother  rooteth  out  the  foundations.'14  From  this  passage 
it  has  been  suggested  that  'the  reward  which  in  the  Fifth 
Commandment  is  held  out  to  respectful  children  was  originally 
a  result  of  parental  blessings.' 15  The  Scots  proverb  is  similar : 
'A  faither's  blessin'  bigs  the  toun  ; 
A  mither's  curse  can  ding  it  doun.'1^ 
I  Greece  such  beliefs  were  no  less  strong.  Plato  puts  it  that 
'the  curses  of  parents  are,  as  they  ought  to  be,  mighty  against 
their  children,  as  no  others  are.'  And  he  instances  the  cursing 
of  their  6ons  by  GEdipus,  Amyntor,  and  Theseus.     The  man 


1  J.  Dawson,  Australian' Aborigines,  Melbourne,  1S81,  p.  64. 

2  Riedel,  304.  3  lb.  377. 

4  Tlie  Melanesians,  216.  5  Riedel,  140. 

6  Turner,  185.  ~>  Megilla,  15a. 

8  Mariner,  Tonga  Islands,  1817,  U.  238. 

9  He  77.  io  Shortland,  76. 
U  Johnston,  ii.  879. 

12  J.  L.  Wilson,  Western  Africa,  1856,  p.  303. 

»3  Westermarck,  i.  622.  14  Sjr  38f . 

K  Westermarck,  i.  622.  1K  Grimm,  iv.  1690. 


who  assaulted  his  parent  was  polluted  by  a  curse.1  According 
to  the  Koreans,  '  curses  and  disgrace  in  this  life  and  the  hottest 
hell  in  the  world  hereafter  are  the  penalties  of  the  disobedient 
or  neglectful  child.'2 

The  last  two  cases  show  the  automatic  production 
of  a  curse  by  the  sin  itself — a  notion  distinctly 
tending  towards  the  ethical  development  of  these 
relations. 

The  Barea  and  Eunama  believe  that  the  blessing  of  the  old 
people  is  necessary  for  the  success  of  any  undertaking,  and  that 
their  curse  is  inevitably  efficacious.3  Even  elder  brothers  and 
sisters  among  the  Greeks  had  the  preponderance  in  this  respect 
over  the  younger ;  '  the  Erinyes  always  follow  the  elder-born.' 4 

The  curse  or  blessing  of  the  dying  is  particularly 
strong.6 

The  Ova-Herero  chief,  when  about  to  die,  'gives  them  his 
benediction,'  a  wish  for  'an  abundance  of  the  good  things  of 
this  world.'6  Similarly  among  the  Hebrews  and  the  Arabs.7 
Among^  the  Bogos  the  blessing  of  a  father  or  a  master  is 
essential  before  taking  up  an  employment  or  relinquishing  it, 
engaging  in  a  business,  or  contracting  a  marriage.8  The  Moors 
say  that  '  the  curse  of  a  husband  is  as  potent  as  that  of  a 
father.' 9  Westermarck  points  out  that '  where  the  father  was 
invested  with  sacerdotal  functions  — as  was  the  case  among  the 
ancient  nations  of  culture — his  blessings  and  curses  would  for 
that  reason  also  be  efficacious  in  an  exceptional  degree.' i0 

Obviously  the  wishes  of  one  who  is  professionally 
in  touch  with  the  magical  or  the  supernatural  are 
more  efficacious  than  those  of  ordinary  men. 

'  The  anathema  of  a  priest,'  say  the  Maoris,  is  '  a  thunderbolt 
that  an  enemy  cannot  escape.*  n  a  Brahman  '  may  punish  his 
foes  by  his  own  power  alone,*  viz.  by  his  words.1^  A  Rajput 
raja,  being  curBed  by  Briihmans,  was  '  under  a  ban  of  excom- 
munication '  even  among  his  friends.13  There  is  a  story  that  the 
curse  of  a  Brahman  girl  brought  a  series  of  disasters  on  a  raja 
and  his  kindred.14  According  to  the  Talmud,  the  curse  of  a 
scholar  never  fails.16  The  Gallas  dread  the  dying  curse  of  a 
priest  or  wizard.16  In  Muhammadan  countries  the  curses  of 
saints  or  sharifs  are  particularly  feared.17 

The  belief  in  the  power  of  curses  and  blessings 
has  a  striking  and  widely  extended  application  in 
the  relations  of  the  well-to-do  with  the  poor  and 
needy,  and  of  the  host  with  the  guest.  In  the  former 
case  the  idea  that  the  blessing  of  those  who  have 
nothing  else  to  give,  or  the  curse  of  those  who 
have  no  other  remedy,  is  therefore  efficacious,  may 
have  some  connexion  with  the  belief  and  practice. 
In  the  latter  case  may  perhaps  be  seen  a  naturally 
regardful  attitude  towards  the  unknown  and  there- 
fore mysterious. 

*  He  that  giveth  unto  the  poor  shall  not  lack ;  but  he  that 
hideth  his  eyes  shall  have  many  a  curse.'18  'Turn  not  away 
thine  eyes  from  one  that  asketh  of  thee,  and  give  none  occasion 
to  a  man  to  curse  thee ;  for  if  he  curse  thee  in  the  bitterness 
of  his  soul,  he  that  made  him  will  hear  his  supplication.'19  The 
Greek  beggar  had  his  Erinys.20  The  Damaras  '  would  not  think 
of  eating  in  the  presence  of  any  of  their  tribe  without  sharing 
their  meal  with  all  comers,  for  fear  of  being  visited  by  a  curse 
from  their  Omu-kuru  (or  deity)  and  becoming  impoverished.' 2* 
In  Morocco,  itinerant  scribes  go  from  house  to  house,  '  re- 
ceiving presents  and  invoking  blessings'  upon  the  donors.  For 
the  latter  it  is  'a  profitable  bargain,  since  they  would  be  tenfold 
repaid  for  their  gifts  through  the  blessings  of  the  scribes.'  A 
Moor  starting  on  a  journey  gives  a  coin  to  a  beggar  at  the  gate 
'  so  as  to  receive  his  blessings. ' 22  The  Nayadis  of  Malabar  invoke, 
in  their  prayers,  blessings  upon  the  higher  castes  who  give 
them  alms. 23  Among  the  Ova-Herero  '  no  curse  is  regarded  as 
heavier  than  that  which  one  who  has  been  inhospitably  treated 
would  hurl  at  those  who  have  driven  him  from  the  hearth/24 
An  offended  guest  'might  burn  the  house  with  the  flames  of 
his  anger.'  26    Guests  and  suppliants  had  their  Erinyes. 26    To 

l  Laws,  ix.  881.  2  Griffis,  Corea,  1882,  p.  238. 

8  Munzinger,  Ostafr.  Studien,  Schaffhausen,  1864,  p.  475. 
4  Homer,  II.  xv.  204.  &  Grimm,  I.e. 

6  Andersson,  Lake  Ngami-,  1856,  p.  228. 

7  Cheyne,  EBi  L  692 ;  Wellhausen,  Rested,  1897,  pp.  1S9, 191. 

8  Munzinger,  Sitten  u.  Recht  der  Bogos,  Winterthur,  1869, 
p.  90. 

9  MI  i.  626.  10  lb.  i.  627. 

11  Polack,  New  Zealanders,  1840,  i.  248  f. 

12  Manu,  xi.  32  f. 

13  Chevers,  Medical  Jurisprudence  for  India,  Calcutta,  1870, 
p.  659. 

14  Crooke,  PR,  1896,  i.  193.        is  Makkoth,  11a. 

16  Harris,  Highlands  of  Ethiopia,  1844,  ui.  50. 

17  Westermarck,  i.  663.  is  Pr  2S27. 

19  Sir  45f..  20  Homer,  Od.  xvii.  476. 

21  Chapman,  South  Africa,  1868,  i.  341. 

22  Westermarck,  i.  662. 

23  Iyer,  Madras  Mus.  Bulletin,  iv.  [1894]  72. 

24  Eatzel,  Hist,  of  Mankind,  1896-98,  ii.  480. 
26  Ipastamba,  ii.  3.  3  (SBE  ii.  114). 

26  Plato,  Epp.  viii.  357. 


CURSING  AND  BLESSING 


371 


the  case  of  hospitality  Westerruarck  applies  the  principle  of 
the  'conditional  curse,  i  which  will  be  discussed  below. 

Parallel  with  the  case  of  the  poor  and  needy  is 
that  of  the  servant  and  the  wife. 

In  West  Africa  '  the  authority  which  a  master  exercises  over 
a  slave  is  very  much  modified  by  his  constitutional  dread  of 
witchcraft.'2  'Slander  not  a  servant  unto  his  master,  lest  he 
curse  thee.'3  'Thou  shalt  not  command  [thy  man-servant  or 
thy  maid-servant]  with  bitterness  of  spirit ;  lest  they  groan 
against  thee,  and  wrath  be  upon  thee  from  God.' 4  '  In  Morocco 
it  is  considered  even  a  greater  calamity  to  be  cursed  by  a 
Shereefa,  or  female  descendant  of  the  Prophet,  than  to  be 
cursed  by  a  Shereef.'5  'The  houses,'  says  Manu,  'on  which 
female  relations,  not  being  duly  honoured,  pronounce  a  curse, 
perish  completely,  as  if  destroyed  by  magic.'  6 

3.  Special  applications. — The  circumstances  in 
which  Wessings  or  curses  are  uttered,  and  the 
persons  upon  whom  they  are  directed,  are  obvi- 
ously both  numerous  and  varied.  A  few  special 
cases  may  be  cited,  which  have  a  bearing  upon  the 
nature  of  the  uttered  wish.  Children,  in  particular, 
are  the  recipients  of  the  blessings  of  parents.7 

The  blessing  of  Ephraim  and  Manasseh  by  Jacob  became 
among  the  Jews  the  regular  formula  by  which  parents  blessed 
their  children.  Among  the  Malagasy,  at  a  circumcision,  the 
guests  present  honey  and  water  to  the  children,  and  pronounce 
blessings  upon  them,  such  as  '  May  they  prosper  1 ' 8  Among 
the  Maoris,  when  a  child  was  a  month  old,  the  ceremony  of 
tua  was  celebrated,  in  which  the  tohunga  pronounced  a  karakia 
of  blessing:  'Breathe  quick,  thy  lung,' etc.9  Jewish  teachers 
to-day  bless  their  pupils.  In  Fiji  all  prayer  was  concluded  with 
malignant  requests  against  the  enemy  :  '  Let  us  live,  and  let  our 
enemies  perish  I ' 19 

The  curse  is  particularly  the  weapon  of  the 
wronged  and  oppressed  against  their  more  power- 
ful enemies,  and  of  zealots  against  their  bigoted 
opponents.  In  the  Bible  it  is  especially  forbidden 
to  curse  God,  parents,  authorities,  and  the  helpless 
deaf.11  To  bless  God  is  to  praise  Him.  YetOrientals 
have  a  tendency  to  curse  God,  even  on  the  slightest 
provocation  in  daily  life.12  Blessing  the  king  is 
implied  or  explicit  in  ceremonies  of  coronation, 
and  on  solemn  occasions. 

The  gods  of  Egypt  bestowed  a  blessing  on  the  Pharaoh,  when 
they  presented  him  with  the  symbol  of  life.13  The  abhiseka  of 
the  raja  included  a  blessing,  embodied  in  the  consecrated  wrater : 
'  O  water,  thou  art  naturally  a  giver  of  kingdoms,  grant  a 
kingdom  to  my  Yajamana' ;  'O  honeyed  and  divine  ones,  mix 
with  each  other  for  the  strength  and  vigour  of  our  Yajamana.' 14 
The  ceremonies  of  anointing  and  the  like  often  involve  a  bless- 
ing.15 In  the  last  example,  the  vehicle  is  personified.  A  Jewish 
author  records  a  Roman  custom  of  gagging  prisoners,  when 
condemned  to  death,  to  prevent  them  from  cursing  the  king.1® 
The  connexion  of  food  with  the  practice  is 
remarkable.  The  blessing  of  food  came  in  later 
Judaism  to  be  a  giving  of  thanks,  and  the  idea 
was  that  food  received  gratefully  acts  as  a  bless- 
ing." The  bismillah  of  Islam  has  a  similar  prin- 
ciple behind  its  use  in  this  connexion.  At  an 
earlier  stage,  no  doubt,  the  blessing,  if  used,  was 
either  positive  or  negative,  removing  injurious 
properties,  but  in  either  case  simply  magical.18 

In  the  Banks  Islands  an  '  invocation  of  the  dead,'  the  tataro, 
is  celebrated.    Food  is  thrown  for  the  souls  of  the  dead  with 
such  words  as  these  :  'They  who  have  charmed  your  food,  have 
clubbed  you  .  .  .  drag  them  away  to  hell,  let  them  be  dead.' 
In  connexion  with  this  is  a  practice  of  cursing  a  man's  '  eating  * ; 
if  an  accident  befalls  the  recipient  of  such  a  curse,  the  utterer 
says  :  'My  curse  in  eating  has  worked  upon  him,  he  is  dead.'19 
Among  the  Maoris,  what  was  almost  a  sense  of  modesty  and  a 
principle  of  honour  grew  up  about  the  ideas  of  food  and  its 
preparation.    A  typical  formula  for  the  counter-curse  is : 
*  Let  the  head  of  the  curser 
Be  baked  in  the  oven, 
Served  up  for  food  for  me, 
Dead,  and  gone  to  Night ! '  ^ 


1  Essays  to  E.  B.  Tylor,  361  ff.  ;  MI  i.  586,  ii.  684  f. 

a  Wilson,  271,  179.  3  pr  3010. 

4  Apost.  Const,  vii.  13.  s  Westermarck,  MI  i.  668. 

«  Manu,  iii.  58.  '  Gn  9™  2460  277-3S. 

8  Ellis,  Hist,  of  Madagascar,  1S38,  p.  183. 

»  Shortland,  40.  10  L.  Fison,  in  Codrington,  147. 

11  Ex  22=«  21",  Lv  200  1914  2415,  Ec  1029. 

12  C.  Levias,  in  JE,  s.v.  '  Cursing.' 

13  Wilkinson,  Anc.  Egyptians  (1878  ed.),  i.  276. 

14  Rajendralala  Mitra,   Indo-Aryans,   Calcutta,   1881,  ii.   3, 
S7fl.,  4tSff. 

15  See  art.  Anointing,  vol.  i.  p.  549.        19  Levias,  I.e.  390. 

17  Adenev,  in  HDB,  s.v.  'Blessing.' 

18  Crawley,  Mystic  Rose,  1902,  p.  149. 

19  Codrinsrton.  147.  20  Shortland,  33. 


To  curee,  kangat  was  in  effect  to  apply  to  another  man  any 
word  which  'had  reference  to  food.'  It  is  recorded  that  a 
young  man,  seeing  a  chief  in  a  copious  perspiration,  remarked 
that  the  vapour  rose  from  his  head  like  steam  from  an  oven,' 
and  that  this  remark  caused  a  tribal  war.l  The  regular  term 
for  food,  kai,  was  discontinued  at  Rotorua,  because  it  happened 
to  be  the  name  of  a  chief.  To  use  the  term  kai  would  in  that 
case  have  been  equivalent  to  a  serious  curse  against  the  chief.2 

Down  to  a  late  period  in  the  history  of  Christi- 
anity, marriage  was  a  personal  '  arrangement ' ;  the 
Church  only  stepped  in  to  pronounce  its  blessing 
upon  the  union.  The  Hebrews  had  a  benediction 
both  for  betrothal  and  for  marriage.8  The  old 
Roman  marriage  by  confarreatio  included  a  bene- 
dictio,  formulae  for  which  are  extant.  When 
St.  Ambrose  says  that  '  marriage  is  sanctified  by 
the  benediction,'  he  refers  to  one  case  only  of  a 
general  practice,  lasting  through  the  Middle  Ages, 
of  concluding  all  private  arrangements  with  a 
blessing.  Thus  all  sales  of  goods  and  property 
were  blessed. 

The  application  of  the  curse  as  a  protection 
of  property  and  as  a  method  of  punishing  theft 
has  been  incidentally  noted.  The  early  Arabs 
cursed  the  thief  in  order  to  recover  the  stolen 
goods.4  The  method  is  conspicuous  in  Samoa. 
Tabu  is  '  a  prohibition  with  a  curse  expressed 
or  implied.' 6  The  embodiment  of  the  wish  in 
leaf  or  wooden  images  is  termed  in  Polynesia 
rahui  or  raui,  but  we  cannot  always  infer  even 
the  implied  wish  in  prohibitory  tabu.6  Allied 
principles  inevitably  shade  into  each  other.  The 
ancient  Babylonian  landmarks  appear  to  have 
been  inscribed  with  curses,  such  as  :  '  Upon  this 
man  may  the  great  gods  Anu,  Bel,  Ea,  and  Nusku 
look  wrathfully,  uproot  his  foundation,  and  de- 
stroy his  offspring.'7  The  same  practice  was 
followed  by  the  Greeks.8  Deuteronomy  refers  to 
the  Semitic  practice  :  '  Cursed  be  he  thatremoveth 
his  neighbour's  landmark.'9  Taken  over  by  Chris- 
tianity, the  practice  survived,  for  example,  in  the 
English  custom  of  '  beating  the  bounds,  in  which 
the  priest  invoked  curses  on  him  who  trans- 
gressed, and  blessings  on  him  who  regarded  the 
landmarks.10 

Some  details  may  be  put  together  which  illus- 
trate adhesions  and  developments.  In  Melanesia 
cursing  by  way  of  asseveration  is  common  :  a  man 
will  deny  an  accusation  '  by '  his  forbidden  food, 
or  '  by '  a  tindalo.11  The  self-invoked  curse,  which 
we  shall  discuss  below,  passes  in  civilization  into 
a  conditional  blessing,  as  in  the  English  oath, 
'So  help  me,  God.'  In  practical  ethics  'profane 
swearing'  is  originally  sinful,  because  of  the 
irresponsible  and  unofficial  use  of  the  Divine 
name ;  later  its  sinfulness  is  limited  to  the  spirit 
of  resentment  with  which  it  is  charged.  In 
Melanesia,  the  practice  of  vivnag,  or  'sending 
off,'  is  instructive  for  comparison  with  that  found 
in  civilization.  A  man  will  say,  with  a  gesture 
towards  a  tree,  vawo  aru  ! — which  is  equivalent  to 
telling  his  enemy  to  be  hanged  thereon.12 

The  limits  of  the  blessing  are  well  preserved 
in  the  Catholic  distinctions  between  panis  bene- 
dictus  and  panis  consecratus,  and  between  bene- 
dictio  vocativa  and  benedictio  constitutiva.  The 
earlier  principle,  as  we  have  seen,  was  to  connect 
blessing  and  consecration,  cursing  and  execration. 
It  is  in  accordance  with  the  extension  of  this 
principle  that  the  curse  is  embodied  in  the  '  ac- 
cursed thing,'  and  that  the  transgressor  of  the 
1  Taylor,  94.  2  lb.  95. 

3  Selden,  Uxor  Hebraica,  1726,  i.  12 ;  To  713f-. 

4  Wellhausen,  Rested  192.  6  Codrington,  215. 
6  White,  Journ.  Poiyn.  Soc.  i.  [1892]  276. 

'Trumbull,  Threshold  Covenant,  1896,  p.  166 ff.  (quoting 
Hilprecht). 

8  Plato,  Laws,  viii.  843  ;  Hermann,  Be  terminis  apvd  Grcecos, 
Gottingen,  1846,  p.  11. 

9  Dt  27«. 

19  Dibbs,  in  Chambers's  Journal,  xx.  (1853)  49  ff. 
11  Codrington,  217.  12  lb.  ill. 


CURSING  AND  BLESSING 


prohibition  himself  becomes  the  'accursed  thing' 
or  the  curse.  This  was  the  case  with  Achan,  and 
with  enemies  'devoted'  to  destruction.1  On  the 
same  principle  a  blessed  man  is  a  '  blessing.'  2 

In  the  OT  '  accursed '  ( AV),  herem,  should  be  '  de- 
voted' (RV) — devoted  to  God,  not  accursed  from 
God.8  Similarly  with  the  Greek  translation  avadefm. 
Such  a  thing  is  withdrawn  from  common  use,  either 
as  'vowed'  to  God,  or  as  put  under  a  ban,  in  which 
case  it  has  a  species  of  'holiness.'4  As  a  rule,  a 
thing  devoted  to  destruction  is  under  a  curse.  In 
Canon  Law  the  development  of  anathema  into 
excommunication  is  complete. 

Here  we  arrive  at  the  cursings  and  blessings  of 
the  community.  In  early  culture  a  headman  or 
body  of  '  old  men  '  may  represent  the  community 
in  this  function. 

The  State  officials  of  Athens  prayed  for  '  the  health  and  safety 
of  the  people.'  Greek  State-liturgies  included  a  '  commination 
service,'  in  which  curses  were  invoked  upon  offenders.5  Medi- 
aeval and  modern  Christianity  combine  a  service  of  commination 
with  the  Lenten  penance.  This  has  historical  connexion  with 
the  early  Hebrew  rite,  celebrated  on  Ebal  and  Gerizim.  Six 
tribes  stood  on  Mount  Ebal  to  curse  those  who  disobeyed  the 
Law,  and  six  stood  on  Mount  Gerizim  to  pronounce  the  corre- 
sponding blessings  upon  those  who  kept  it.  The  priests  and 
Levites  stood  in  the  valley  between,  and  on  turning  their  faces 
to  Gerizim  pronounced  a  blessing,  and  on  turning  them  to  Ebal 
pronounced  a  curse.6  The  Talmudic  idea  that  a  curse  has 
especial  efficacy  when  pronounced  three  hours  after  sunrise  is 
noteworthy  in  connexion  with  such  formulated  conditions  as 
'in  the  sight  of  God  and  of  this  congregation.' 7 

Throughout  their  history,  private  cursing  and 
blessing  preponderate  over  public,  and  unofficial 
over  official.  As  the  moralized  stage  in  religion 
supersedes  the  magical,  the  '  mere  power  of  the 
word '  is  confined  to  private  practice,  and  perhaps 
becomes  more  sinister  with  secrecy.  The  enormous 
collections  of  private  dirce  and  imprecationes  which 
have  survived  from  Greek  and  Roman  times,  chiefly 
in  the  form  of  leaden  tablets  or  symbolic  nails, 
inscribed  with  curses  consigning  an  enemy  to  the 
infernal  powers,  testify  to  the  hold  retained  by 
the  primitive  theory  of  the  curse,  just  as  the  pre- 
valence of  profane  swearing  in  modern  civilization 
shows  the  convenience  of  the  mere  form,  emptied 
of  all  content  except  vague  resentment,  for  the 
satisfaction  of  a  particular  emotion.  The  hold 
exerted  by  the  simple  mystery  of  magic  upon  the 
popular  imagination  is  echoed  in  literature,  and  the 
motive  of  the  efficacious  curse  is  still  employed  in 
narrative  fiction. 

Nothing  perhaps  more  strikingly  illustrates  the 
extent  of  Divine  resentment  than  the  cursing  of 
the  ground  for  the  sins  of  man  (Gn  31"-),  or  the 
extent  of  human  resentment  than  the  action  of  a 
curse  beyond  the  grave. 

The  Maoris  took  precautions  to  prevent  enemies  from  getting 
possession  of  their  dead  relatives'  bones,  lest  they  should  '  dread- 
fully desecrate  and  ill-use  them,  with  many  bitter  jeers  and 
curses.' 8  The  Banks  Islanders  watch  the  grave  '  lest  some  man 
wronged  by  him  [the  dead  man]  should  come  at  night  and  beat 
with  a  stone  upon  the  grave,  cursing  him.'  Also, '  when  a  great 
man  died,  his  friends  would  not  make  it  known,  lest  those  whom 
he  had  oppressed  should  come  and  spit  at  him  after  his  death, 
or  govgov  him,  stand  bickering  at  him  with  crooked  ringers  and 
drawing  in  the  lips,  by  way  of  curse.'9  The  Greek  Erinyes  com- 
plete in  the  world  beyond  the  grave  the  punishment  which  they 
began  on  earth.10  The  Arabs  of  Southern  Morocco  '  maintain 
that  there  are  three  classes  of  persons  who  are  infallibly  doomed 
to  hell,  namely,  those  who  have  been  cursed  by  their  parents, 
those  who  have  been  guilty  of  unlawful  homicide,  and  those  who 
have  burned  corn.  They  say  that  every  grain  curses  him  who 
burns  it.'13 

The  connexion  between  curses  and  the  belief  in 
punishments  after  death  has  been  drawn  out  by 
Westermarck.12 

1  Jos  618,  Dt  726.  2Gnl22. 

3  HDD,  s.v.  '  Curse ' ;  cf.  Driver  on  Dt  72. 

4  Cf.  Lv  2728f.,  Ac  2312  ;  for  the  transition  between  the  earlier 
idea  and  excommunication,  see  Ezr  10s. 

5  See  L.  R.  Farnell,  Evolution  of  Religion,  1905,  pp.  196,  200. 

6  Dt  1129  2713,  Jos  833 ;  Sota.  35a,  36a ;  Broyde,  in  JE,  s.v. 
Gerizim.' 

7  Levias,  I.e.  8  Colenso,  Maori  Races,  1866,  p.  28. 
9  Codrington,  2€9.         10  ^Esch.  Eumen.,  passim. 

n  Ml  ii.  716  n.  M  lb.  chs.  1.  li. 


In  what  may  be  called  the  lighter  side  of  cursing, 
there  is  a  curious  set  of  customs  connected  with 
ideas  of  luck,  and  perhaps  based  on  the  notion  that 
material  injury  may  be  discounted  or  diverted  by  a 
verbal  or  make-believe  injury ;  in  other  cases,  on 
a  notion  that  the  spirits  may  be  stimulated  by 
scolding  and  abuse  ;  in  others,  again,  it  is  perhaps 
evil  and  obstructive  spirits  that  are  being  driven 
away. 

Thus  the  Greek  farmer,  when  sowing  cummin,  would  curse  and 
swear  all  the  time,  else  the  crop  would  not  prosper.1  Esthonian 
fishermen  believe  that  good  luck  will  attend  their  fishing  il 
beforehand  they  are  cursed.  A  fisherman  will  accordingly  play 
some  practical  joke  on  a  friend  in  order  to  receive  his  resent- 
ment in  words.  The  more  he  storms  and  curses,  the  better  the 
other  is  pleased  ;  every  curse  brings  at  least  three  fish  into  his 
net.2  To  obviate  punishment  for  ritual  sin,  or  to  '  procure  abso- 
lution,' a  Behari  man  will  throw  Btones  into  a  neighbour's  house. 
The  result  is  the  reception  of  abuse,  or  even  of  personal 
violence.8 

4.  Conditional  cursing  and  blessing. — What 
Westermarck  terms  the  'conditional  curse,'  which 
he  was  the  first  student  to  remark,  is  an  import- 
ant development  of  the  principle  of  cursing  and 
blessing,  and  has  had  considerable  influence  in  the 
making  of  morality,  especially  in  the  sphere  of 
good  faith,  honesty,  and  truthfulness.  Put  in  its 
lowest  terms,  the  energy  of  a  conditional  curse  is 
the  supernatural  energy  of  an  ordinary  curse  or  of 
its  embodiment,  in  a  latent  state.  This  is  dis- 
charged by  the  act,  if  or  when  it  takes  place, 
against  which  the  curse  is  directed.  The  principle 
applies  also  to  blessings,  but  this  application  is  less 
frequent.4 

'The  term  l-'dr,'  Westermarck  writes,  '  is  applied  by  the  Moors 
to  a  compulsory  relation  of  a  peculiar  kind  in  which  one  person 
stands  to  another.  The  common  expression,  Anafdralldhu 
'drak,  "  I  am  in  God's  'dr  and  your  'dr,"  implies  that  a  man  is 
bound  to  help  me,  or,  generally,  to  grant  my  request,  whatever 
it  may  be,  as  also  that  if  he  does  not  do  so  his  own  welfare  is  at 
stake.  The  phrase  "  In  God's  'dr  "  only  serveB  to  give  solemnity 
to  the  appeal :  "  I  am  under  the  protection  of  God,  and  for  his 
sake  you  are  obliged  to  help  me."  But  the  word  l-'dr  is  also 
used  to  denote  the  act  by  means  of  which  a  person  places  himself 
in  the  said  relationship  to  another.  Hdd  l-'dr  'dlik,  "This  is 
'dr  on  you,"  is  the  phrase  in  common  use  when  an  act  of  this 
kind  is  performed.  If  the  person  so  appealed  to  is  unwilling  to 
grant  the  request,  he  answers,  Hdd  l-'dr  yifyruz  JUc,  'May  this 
'dr  recoil  upon  you."  The  constraining  character  of  l-'di  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  it  implies  the  transference  of  a  conditional 
curse : — If  you  do  not  do  what  I  wish  you  to  do,  then  may  you 
die,  or  may  your  children  die,  or  may  some  other  evil  happen  to 
you.  That  l-'dr  implicitly  contains  a  conditional  curse  is  ex- 
pressly stated  by  the  people  themselves,  although  in  some  cases 
this  notion  may  be  somewhat  vague,  or  possibly  have  almost 
faded  away.'  e 

The  various  acts  which  establish  l-'dr  all  serve  as 
'  outward  conductors  of  conditional  curses.'  'Ar 
may  be  made  by  taking  the  son  and  giving  him  to 
the  father,  saying,  'This  is'<2rfor  you.'  Another 
method  is  to  present  food.  If  the  man  accepts,  he 
is  bound  to  do  what  is  asked  of  him.  Refugees 
enter  a  tent  or  merely  grasp  the  tent-pole,  saying, 
'I  am  in  God's  'dr  and  your  'dr.'*  An  injured 
husband  may  put  'dr  upon  the  governor,  to  get 
redress,  by  going  to  him  with  a  piece  of  his  tent- 
cloth  over  his  head ;  or  he  may  leave  seven  tufts 
of  hair  on  his  head,  and  appeal  to  another  tribe. 
'  The  conditional  curse  is  obviously  supposed  to  be 
seated  in'  the  tent-cloth  or  tufts  of  hair,  and 
'  from  there  to  be  transferred  to  the  person '  in- 
voked. 'Ar  may  be  made  by  piling  stones.  Two 
men  making  an  appointment,  and  one  failing  to 
appear,  the  other  makes  a  cairn  at  the  spot,  and 
takes  the  breaker  of  faith  to  it.  The  latter  is 
then  obliged  to  '  give  him  a  nice  entertainment. ' 
Similarly,  with  ordinary  curses  the  cairn  may  be 
used.  If  a  muleteer  buys  a  new  mule,  his  com- 
rades ask  him  to  treat  them.     If  he  refuses,  they 

1  Theophrastus,  Hist.  Plant,  viii.  3. 

2  Boecler-Kreutzwald,  Der  Ehsten  abergldubische  Gebrduche, 
1S54,  p.  90  f.,  quoted  by  Frazer,  GB-i.  97. 

3  JASB  ii.  [1S92)  598  ;  JRAS  xxix.  [1897]  482. 

4  Westermarck,  '  L'Ar,'  passim,  also  '  The  Influence  of  Magic 
on  Social  Relationships,'  in  Sociological  Papers  (1905),  MI  i. 
686  ff.,  ii.  584  ff.,  and  passim. 

5  •  L-'.\r.'  361.  B  lb-  362. 


CURSING  AND  BLESSING 


373 


make  a  cairn,  asking  God  to  send  misfortune  on 
the  mule.  By  way  of  revenge  upon  a  niggardly 
man,  scribes  make  a  cairn,  and  each  takes  a  stone 
therefrom,  and,  as  he  throws  it  away,  says :  '  As 
we  dispersed  this  heap  of  stones,  so  may  God 
disperse  for  him  that  which  makes  him  happy.' 
The  sacrifice  of  an  animal  on  the  threshold  is  the 
most  powerful  method  of  making 'dr.  To  see  the 
blood  is  sufficient.  Over  such  an  animal  the  bis- 
milldh,  '  In  the  name  of  God,'  is  not  pronounced  ; 
and  it  cannot  be  eaten  by  the  sacrificer  or  the 
person  invoked,  but  only  by  the  poor.1  The 
practice 

'  is  resorted  to  for  a  variety  of  purposes  :  to  obtain  pardon  from 
the  government ;  or  to  induce  the  relatives  of  a  person  who  has 
been  killed  to  abstain  from  taking  revenge ;  or  to  secure  assist- 
ance against  an  enemy  or  mediation  in  the  case  of  trouble.'  It 
1  plays  a  very  important  part  in  the  social  life  of  the  people.'2 

It  is  also  employed  to  put  pressure  upou  jinn  and 
dead  saints — usually  to  restrain  the  former,  and 
compel  the  assistance  of  the  latter.  Making  cairns, 
or  tying  rags,  near  a  sty  id  is  'dr  upon  the  saint. 
The  rag  is  knotted,  and  the  man  says  :  '  I  promised 
thee  an  offering,  and  I  will  not  release  thee  until 
thou  attendest  to  my  business. ' s  Here  we  approach 
the  conditional  '  blessing.'  Again,  a  man,  invoking 
revenge,  strews  burnt  corn  on  the  floor  of  the  siyid, 
saying :  '  I  threw,  O  saint,  So-and-so  as  I  threw 
this  corn.'  'This  is  'dr  on  the  saint,'  as  Wester- 
marck  points  out,  '  but  at  the  same  time  it  is  an 
act  of  symbolic  magic.'4 

Forms  of  ordeal,  and  the  whole  theory  of  the 
oath,  as  well  as  its  practice  up  to  the  latest 
stages  of  civilization,  depend  on  the  principle  of 
the  conditional  curse,  often  embodied  in  symbolic 
action. 

The  curse  as  an  engine  of  law  is  well  exemplified  in  Samoa. 
A  theft  has  taken  place  ;  the  injured  party  pays  the  '  priest '  to 
f-urse  the  thief  and  make  him  sick.  If  the  thief  falls  ill,  he 
restores  the  stolen  property,  and  the  'priest'  prays  for  a  re- 
versal of  the  curse.  Again,  suspected  parties  are  summoned  by 
the  chief.  Grass  is  laid  on  the  sacred  stone,  the  village-god, 
and  each  person  places  his  hand  thereon,  saying :  '  I  lay  hand 
on  the  stone.  If  I  stole  the  thing,  may  I  speedily  die ! '  The 
use  of  grass  is  said  to  refer  to  the  implied  curse :  '  May  grass 
grow  over  my  house  and  family  ! '  So,  in  ordinary  disputes,  a 
man  will  say:  'Touch  your  eyes  if  what  you  say  is  true.'5 
In  the  same  way,  European  boys  '  touch  wood '  as  a  guarantee 
of  truth. 

An  oath  may  be  regarded  as  '  essentially  a  con- 
ditional  self-imprecation,  a  curse  by  which  a  person 
culls  down  upon  himself  some  evil  in  the  event  of 
what  he  says  not  being  true.'6  All  the  resources 
of  symbolic  magic  are  drawn  upon  in  the  rnulti- 
l  ndinous  examples  of  this  principle. 

In  Tenimber  the  swearer  prays  for  his  own  death  if  what  he 
says  is  false,  and  then  drinks  his  own  blood,  in  which  a  sword 
has  been  dipped.?  The  Malay  drinks  water  in  which  daggers, 
spears,  or  bullets  have  been  dipped,  saying  :  '  If  I  turn  traitor, 
may  I  be  eaten  up  by  this  dagger  or  spear  [ '8  The  Sumatran 
oath  is  still  more  explicit :  '  If  what  I  now  declare  is  truly  and 
really  so,  may  I  be  freed  and  cleared  from  my  oath ;  if  what  I 
assert  is  wittingly  false,  may  my  oath  be  the  cause  of  my  de- 
struction !  '9  The  Greek  opxos  was,  at  an  early  period,  the 
object  sworn  '  by.'  The  Osfyaks  swear  on  the  nose  of  a  bear, 
which  animal  is  held  to  have  supernatural  power.10  Hindus 
swear  on  the  Sanskrit  HarivaiUia,  or  on  water  of  the  Ganges,  or 
touch  the  legs  of  a  Brahman  ;  Muhammadans,  on  the  Qur'an  ; 
Christians,  on  the  Bible.11 

The  accused  person  in  Calabar  drinks  a  ju-ju  drink  called 
mbiam,  and  repeats  these  words  :  '  If  I  have  been  guilty  of  this 
crime  .  .  .  then,  Mbiam,  Thou  deal  with  me!'1-  'Eating  the 
fetish  '  and  '  drinking  the  water  of  cursing '  are  prominent  forms 
of  the  ordeal  in  Africa  and  elsewhere.  The  Hindu  iapatha 
denotes  both  oath  and  ordeal.  The  mediaeval  '  trial  by  combat ' 
was  preceded  by  an  oath,  and  thus  defeat  was  tantamount  to 
perjury.13  The  formula  of  the  ordeal  of  the  Eucharist  ran  :  '  Et 
si  aliter  est  quam  dixi  et  juravi,  tunc  hoc  Domini  nostri  Jesu 
Christi  corpus  non  pertranseat  guttur  meuru,  sed  haereat  in 


1  Westermarck,  '  L-'Ar,'  363  ff.  2  lb.  366. 

3  lb.  369.  4  lb.  371.  5  Turner,  30,  184. 

6  Westermarck,  MI  ii.  118.  7  Riedel,  284. 

s  W.  VV.  Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  1900,  p.  625. 
9  W.  Marsden,  Sumatra,  1811,  p.  238. 
111  Castren,  quoted  by  Westermarck,  MI  ii.  119. 

11  Westermarck,  ii.  120  (quoting  authorities). 

12  M.  H.  Kingsley,  West  Africa,  1807,  p.  46S. 

la  Westermarck.  i.  50f>,  ii.  6S9  (with  authorities). 


faucibus  meis,  strangulet  me  suffocet  me  ac  interficiat  me  statim 
in  momento.' 1 

In  the  contract  and  covenant  a  mutual  conditional 
curse  is  largely  used. 

Thus  the  'dhtd  of  the  Moors  is  the  mutual  form  of  'dr.  Chiefs 
exchange  cloaks  or  turbans  ;  and  'it  is  believed  that,  if  any  of 
them  should  break  the  covenant,  he  would  be  punished  with  some 
grave  misfortune.'  -  Reconciliation  is  effected,  among  the  same 
people,  by  joining  right  hands  ;  the  holy  man  who  superintends 
wraps  the  hands  in  his  cloak,  Baying :  '  This  is  'dhed  between 
you.'8  A  common  meal  also  ratifies  a  covenant.  If  one  party 
breaks  faith,  it  is  said:  'God  and  the  food  will  repay  him.'4 
In  the  pela  rite  of  Ceram,  celebrated  to  settle  a  quarrel  or  to 
make  peace,  both  parties  attend  a  feast,  and  eat  food  into  which 
drops  of  their  blood  are  let  fall  and  swords  dipped.  This 
they  alternately  eat.5  Reconciliation  of  two  men  in  the  islands 
of  Leti,  Moa,  and  Lakor,  one  man  having  cursed  the  other,  is 
effected  by  the  men  eating  together.^  To  ratify  a  bond  of  fra- 
ternity in  Madagascar  between  two  parties,  a  fowl  has  its  head 
cut  off,  and  is  left  bleeding  during  the  rite.  The  parties  pro- 
nounce a  long  mutual  imprecation  over  the  blood  :  '  O  this 
miserable  fowl  weltering  in  its  blood !  Thy  liver  do  we  eat. 
.  .  .  Should  either  of  us  retract  from  the  terms  of  this  oath,  let 
him  instantly  become  a  fool,  let  him  instantly  become  blind,  let 
this  covenant  prove  a  curse  to  him. '7 

The  mutual  conditional  curse,  it  must  be  noticed, 
allows  the  curse  proper  to  be  more  or  less  lost  in 
the  material  symbolism  of  union.  Since,  moreover, 
all  these  analogous  principles  pass  into  one  an- 
other so  inevitably  and  gradually,  we  do  not  seem 
entitled  to  press  the  principle  of  the  curse  too  far. 
In  reconciliatory  ceremonies,  for  instance,  it  is  pos- 
sible that  the  idea  of  union  is  sufficient ;  the  idea 
of  the  curse  may  adhere  to  it,  but  not  essentially. 

The  oath  carries  with  it  the  punishment  for  per- 
jury. According  to  Roman  legal  theory,  the 
sanctio  of  a  statute  is  the  penalty  attached  for 
breaking  it.  But  in  ancient  States  all  laws  were 
accompanied  by  a  curse  upon  the  transgressor.8 
True  to  its  mission  of  serving  where  other  methods 
fail,  the  curse  receded  as  police  efficiency  increased. 
In  the  earliest  culture,  however,  as  that  of  the 
Australians,  the  personal  efforts  of  the  rulers  work 
together  with  the  impersonal  energy  of  the  super- 
natural engines  they  employ. 

5.  The  blessing  and  the  curse  as  invocations. 
— The  distinction  between  the  'magical'  and  the 
'religious'  curse  or  blessing  is  not  to  be  over- 
emphasized. The  two  forms  merge  into  one  an- 
other, and  either  is  as  '  magical '  or  '  religious '  as 
the  other,  while  neither  is  the  more  efficacious. 
A  god  draws  together  in  his  own  person  the  various 
threads  of  supernatural  force.  Among  these  are 
cursings  and  blessings.  Their  inherent  mystery 
of  power  still  depends  on  the  will  of  the  utterer. 
His  invocation  of  the  god  to  execute  for  him  his 
heart's  expressed  desire  is  rather  a  long  circuiting 
than  a  guarantee  of  the  result.  The  independent 
force  of  the  wish,  in  fact,  tends  to  remain  even 
when  the  wish  is  merged  in  prayer.  The  personal 
quality  of  the  utterer  is  still  the  characteristic  of 
his  wish.  Psychologically,  it  is  difficult  to  limit  a 
desire  by  making  it  an  invocation  ;  to  divide  the 
attention  between  the  object  of  the  desire  and  the 
expression  of  the  desire  on  the  one  hand,  and  an 
intervening  divinity  on  the  other,  is  a  matter  of 
training.  Thus  it  is  rarely  the  case  that,  when  a 
man  says  '  God  bless  you  ! '  he  is  conscious  of  the 
reference  to  God,  any  more  than  when  he  says 
'  Bless  you  ! ' 

Further,  there  is  the  tendency  for  the  principle 
of  the  curse,  if  not  of  the  blessing,  to  become  itself 
personified.  This  result  is  found  as  far  back  as  the 
stage  of  culture  represented  by  the  Maoris.  The 
'  cursing  thought'  is  personified  in  the  Avesta  ; 
so  is  the  'pious  and  good  blessing.'  The  Greeks 
personified  the  curse  as  Erinys.  Behind  this  there 
may  be  the  notion  '  of  a  persecuting  ghost,  whose 

1  Dahn,  Bausteine,  Berlin,  1879,  ii.  16. 

2  Wesjermarck,  ii.  623.  3  lb. 

4  '  L-'Ar,'  373.  5  Riedel,  128  f. 

6  lb.  342.  See,  on  the  whole  subject,  Crawley,  Mystic  Rose, 
chs.  v.  xi. 

7  Ellis,  i.  1K7  ff.  8  Schroder,  KIS  ii.  ii:. 


374 


CUSTOM 


anger  or  curses  in  later  times  were  personified  as 
an  independent  spirit.'1  Allegorical  figures  of 
curses  were  included  by  painters  in  pictures  of 
the  wicked  in  hell.2  Subsequently  the  Erinyes 
became  the  ministers  of  Zeus.8  The  steps  by 
which  a  curse  or  blessing  becomes  an  appeal  to  a 
god,  a  prayer  that  he  will  injure  or  benefit  the 
person  intended,  are  not  indistinct.  The  Melan- 
esian  curses  in  the  name  of  a  lio'a,  a  powerful 
spirit.  His  connexion  with  the  lio'a  gives  or  adds 
efficacy  to  his  curse.4  The  efficacy  of  the  mere 
word  naturally  is  increased,  not  by  the  will  of  the 
spirit  invoked,  but  by  the  use  of  his  power.  The 
Talmud  and  the  OT  supply  examples  of  '  the  ancient 
idea  that  the  name  of  the  Lord  might  be  used  with 
advantage  in  any  curse.'5  Among  the  Hebrews 
the  '  Name '  had  peculiar  importance.  In  the  next 
place,  the  appeal  may  take  the  form  of  a  conditional 
blessing  upon  the  god.  In  the  Yajur  Veda  we  read 
the  formnla,  addressed  to  Surya:  'Smite  such  a 
one,  and  I  will  give  you  an  offering. ' 8  This  method 
is  clearly  more  efficacious.  Vagona  in  the  Banks 
Islands  is  the  most  serious  of  curses.  It  consists 
in  procuring  the  intervention  of  a  supernatural 
power.7  The  story  of  Balaam  (Nu  22-24)  includes 
a  belief  that  the  Divine  power  can  be  moved  to 
effect  the  injury  desired.  A  further  step  is  taken 
when  the  moving  is  in  the  form  of  compulsion.  As 
curses  may  develop  into  prayers,  so  prayers  may 
develop  into  spells  or  curses.  Brahma  is  the 
energy  of  the  gods,  but  it  is  also  the  prayer,  and 
'  governs  them.' 8  dpd  is  both  '  prayer '  and  '  curse ' ; 
so  is  the  Manx  word  gwee.9  Prayer  is  often  pos- 
sessed of  magical  power,  just  as  a  Toda  spell  is  in 
the  form  of  a  prayer.10  Even  in  Greek  religion  the 
deity  is  constrained  to  effect  a  curse  or  a  blessing  ; u 
even  the  personified  curse,  the  Erinys,  works  by 
a  spell-song  which  binds  the  victim.12  Thus  the 
phrases,  '  by,'  '  for  the  sake  of,'  and  the  like,  are 
but  vague  expressions  of  the  actual  relation  be- 
tween the  invoker  and  the  invoked. 

Id  the  Banks  Islands,  cursing  by  way  of  asseveration  is 
described  in  English  terms  as  swearing  '  by '  a  forbidden  food, 
or  '  by '  some  powerful  tindalo.^  The  Toda  palol  prays  with  a 
gurgling  utterance  in  the  throat :  '  May  it  be  well  ! '  or  '  May 
it  be  blessed  .  .  .  with  the  buffaloes  and  calves  ;  may  there  be 
no  disease  ;  .  .  .  may  clouds  rise,  may  grass  flourish,  may  water 
spring  .  .  .  for  the  sake  of '  certain  'objects  of  reverence.'  This 
term,  idith,  is  used  in  special  connexion  with  the  name  of  a 
god,  and  involves  the  idea  of  supplication ;  it  is  also  employed 
in  sorcery.14 

A  modern  Christian  prayer  for  a  blessing  'for 
Christ's  sake '  is  thus  widely  different,  in  the  con- 
dition appended,  from  the  Toda  or  Melanesian  type. 
Magic,  so  to  say,  has  given  place  to  emotion,  though 
itself  originating  in  emotion,  of  another  kind. 

6.  Connexion  with  morality. — Law  gradually 
takes  over  the  function  of  the  curse,  as  a  form  of 
retribution ;  while  prayer  may  still  retain  its  use 
in  cases  where  human  intervention  fails,  or  even 
as  a  spiritual  replica  of  human  intervention.  The 
moralizing  of  the  curse  and  the  blessing  within 
these  limits  follows  the  course  of  ethical  evolu- 
tion. In  the  OT  the  undeserved  curse  has  no 
effect,  or  may  be  turned  by  God  into  a  blessing. 16 
The  justice  of  the  wish  is  left  to  the  decision  of 
God ;  while  it  follows  that  an  unjust  curse  or 
blessing  is  a  sin  against  the  All-Just.  The  Greeks 
modified  their  theory  of  the  hereditary  trans- 
mission of  a  curse  by  arguing  that  each  generation 

1  Westermarck,  i.  379. 

a  Demosthenes,  Aristogiton,  i.  52. 

3  Westermarck,  I.e.  (with  authorities). 

4  Codrington,  51. 

5  Westermarck,  i.  564  (with  authorities). 

6  Taittiriya  Sarhhita,  vi.  4ff. 

7  Codrington,  217.  **  Rig-Veda,  vi.  51.  3. 
e  Rhys,  Celtic  Folklore,  Oxford,  1901,  i.  349. 

10  Rivers,  450,  453.  "  Farnell,  196. 

12  .Esch.  Eumen.  332. 

«  Codrington,  217.  1*  Rivers,  214  f.,  230.     . 

15  pr  222-1 262,  Dt  235 ;  Apost.  Const,  iv.  6  :  Cheyne,  art. '  Bless- 
ings and  Cursings,'  in  EBi  i.  592. 


commits  new  sins.1  At  one  end  of  the  process  we 
have  an  invocation  to  the  gods,  as  in  the  Surpu 
of  the  Chaldseans,  asking  for  relief  from  the  effects 
of  a  curse,  not  for  forgiveness  ; 2  or  '  the  thief  in- 
vokes God  while  he  breaks  into  the  house,'  the 
bandit  the  Virgin.3  At  the  other,  the  god  rewards 
or  punishes  independently  of  human  invocation, 
and  with  absolute  justice.  According  to  Aquinas,4 
a  maledictio  is  efficacious  only  when  made  by  God. 
In  the  mouth  of  man,  however  uttered  or  however 
deserved,  it  is  per  se  inefficacious.  But,  when  this 
stage  is  reached,  cursing  or  blessing  has  become  a 
contradiction  in  terms. 

Literature. — The  literature  has  been  given  fully  in  the  foot- 
notes, a.  E.  Crawley. 

CUSTOM. — In  the  course  of  his  discussion 
en  '  Custom  and  the  Moral  Life,'  Wundt  writes 
as  follows  (Ethics,  Eng.  tr.,  i.  131  f.,  151  :  for  an 
unfavourable  criticism,  see  Ladd,  Philosophy  of 
Conduct,  New  York,  1902,  p.  27  f.): 

1  A  custom  is  any  norm  of  voluntary  action  that  has  been 
developed  in  a  national  or  tribal  community.  However  rigor- 
ously individual  conduct  may  be  prescribed  by  custom,  one  is 
still  left  free  to  obey  or  disobey,  as  one  chooses.  .  .  .  And  it  is 
custom,  too,  that  transfers  the  principle  of  freedom,  which  in 
the  animal  consciousness  does  not  extend  beyond  the  realm  of 
habit,  to  the  general  consciousness  of  society.  ...  In  custom 
the  settled  habits  of  the  human  race  and  of  its  subdivisions  still 
retain  the  character  of  consciously  operative  motives.  Instinct 
is  habitual  conduct  that  has  become  mechanical ;  custom, 
habitual  conduct  that  has  become  generic.  ...  It  is  true  that 
custom  finds  its  own  means  of  compulsion.  But  these,  like 
custom  itself,  are  never  of  the  obligatory  kind.  They  consist 
neither  in  subjective  commandments  like  the  moral  laws,  nor 
in  objective  menaces  like  the  laws  of  the  state.' 

Custom  is  closely  connected  both  with  habit  and 
with  usage,  the  distinction  of  each  from  the  other 
being  thus  well  set  forth  by  Wundt  (op.  cit.  p. 
156  f.): 

'Habit  covers  all  and  every  form  of  voluntary  action  that, 
for  whatever  reason,  we  have  made  our  own.  .  .  .  Habit  is  an 
individual  rule  of  conduct.5  If  the  acts  of  the  individual 
accord  with  the  habitual  action  of  the  community  to  which  he 
belongs,  habit  becomes  usage.  .  .  .  Custom  forms  a  smaller 
circle  within  this  general  field  of  usage.  Custom  is  habit :  it 
is  marked  by  the  regular  recurrence  of  voluntary  actions. 
Custom  is  usage  :  it  is  always  the  custom  of  some  community. 
But  it  has,  further,  what  usage  lacks — a  normative  character. 
Conformity  to  custom  is  not,  like  conformity  to  usage,  a  matter 
of  individual  choice  ;  custom  has  the  sanction  of  a  moral  con- 
straint, which  the  individual  cannot  disregard  without  personal 
disadvantage.  .  .  .  While,  therefore,  individual  habit  is  left 
absolutely  and  entirely  to  choice,  provided  only  that  it  does  not 
conflict  with  the  more  comprehensive  rules  of  social  conduct, 
usage  exercises  a  practical  compulsion  through  the  example 
that  it  sets,  and  custom  raises  this  compulsion  to  the  dignity  of 
a  constraining  norm.' 

On  the  other  hand,  custom,  with  its  social  basis, 
tends  to  become  habit  in  the  individual,  producing, 
it  may  be,  an  impression  of  oddity  when  he  moves 
in  a  circle  where  the  custom  is  different,  so  that 
in  countless  cases  custom  and  habit  may  stand  in 
sharp  antithesis.  But  if  custom,  in  the  main, 
produces  habit*  habit  in  its  turn,  if  the  individual 
possessing  it,  whether  as  a  result  of  previous  en- 
vironment or  in  virtue  of  personal  idiosyncrasy,  be 
strong  enough  to  impress  his  own  particular  habit 
on  his  fellows,  may  influence  custom,  or  even  give 
rise  to  a  new  custom  of  greater  or  less  extent  (for 
some  interesting  specific  instances,  see  JE  iv.  396  ; 
e.g.  'it  was  the  custom  of  R.  Judah  b.  Tllai  to 
bathe  his  face,  hands,  and  feet  in  warm  water 
before  Sabbath  began.  This  also  was  adopted  by 
the  Jewish  community ').  This,  by  the  very  nature 
of  every  social  organism,  is  comparatively  rare, 
and,  if  custom  is  thus  to  arise,  it  must  meet  a 
real,  even  though  perhaps  hitherto  unfelt,  need  of 
society,  either  in  whole  or  in  part.  Otherwise  we 
have,  not  custom  in  its  true  sense,  but  the  more 

1  Farnell,  CGS  i.  (1896)  77. 

2  Zimmern,  Beitrdge  zur  Kenntnis  der  bab.  Rel.,  Leipzig, 
1896,  pp.  3,  7,  23. 

3  Westermarck,  ii.  733.  *  Summa  n.  2.  xxvi. 

5  If,  then,  '  custom  '  is  used  of  individual  habit,  as  in  EV  of 
Lk  4i6  (where  Gr.  has  to  eiwdot  aura),  it  is,  strictly  speaking 
inaccurate. 


CUSTOM 


375 


evanescent  'fashion'  or  'vogue.'  For  custom  is 
concerned  with  the  constant  needs  of  society, 
and  is 

'  subject  to  change  only  with  change  in  conditions  of  life  or 
theories  of  living  ;  and,  as  this  change  is  reflected  in  the  forms 
of  custom,  custom  is  as  truly  a  picture  of  the  moral  conscious- 
ness of  the  community  as  a  man's  habits  are  the  expression 
of  his  individual  character.  Habits  can  constantly  be  formed 
anew,  because  new  individuals,  whose  habits  they  are,  are  con- 
stantly coming  into  existence.  But  custom,  national  habit, 
endures  while  the  nation  endures '  (Wundt,  op.  cit.  p.  164). 

We  have  seen  that  custom  and  habit  are  mutu- 
ally interactive.  Under  conditions  now  prevailing, 
even  amongst  primitive  peoples,  custom  is  by  far 
the  more  potent  factor,  and  yet  it  would  seem 
that  this  was  not  always  the  case.  There  must 
have  been  a  time  when  no  form  of  organized 
society  existed,  and  when  men  were  so  widely 
scattered  because  of  the  fewness  of  their  numbers 
that  individualism  must  have  prevailed  far  more 
than  it  now  does.  Then  it  was  that  habit,  not 
custom,  was  the  dominant  factor ;  and  it  would 
seem  that,  as  individual  habit  met  individual 
habit,  each  modifying  and  being  modified  by  the 
other,  the  composite  resultant  was  crystallized  as 
custom  ;  while  custom  meeting  with  custom — per- 
haps even  affected  now  and  again  by  the  individual 
habit  of  some  specially  strong  individuality — was 
in  its  turn  blended  into  an  amalgam  of  custom  of 
wider  scope  and  influence,  until  at  last  there  was 
evolved  one  of  the  great  determinants  of  society  as 
a  whole.1  At  the  same  time  it  must  be  borne  in 
mind  that  such  a  reconstruction  is  entirely  hypo- 
thetical and  incapable  of  historical  proof.  Custom 
is  already  existent  at  the  earliest  historical  time 
and  in  the  most  primitive  modern  social  conditions 
of  which  we  have  any  knowledge,  and,  in  view  of  the 
fact  that  all  members  of  any  primitive  society  are, 
and  doubtless  always  were,  on  approximately  the 
same  mental  scale,  it  would  seem  that,  as  Wundt 
says  (op.  cit.  p.  161), 

'one  man  may  contribute  one  thing  to  a  custom,  and  another 
another ;  but  the  custom  as  a  whole  is  a  common  creation, 
which  cannot  be  analyzed  into  individual  elements,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  the  various  individual  factors  are  all  opera- 
tive at  one  and  the  same  time,  and  that  it  is  consequently 
impossible  for  the  individual  to  separate  his  own  particular 
contribution  from  the  contributions  made  by  others '  (cf. 
Wundt's  criticism  of  this  entire  scheme  of  reconstruction, 
p.  li>9ff.,  summarized  thus  [p.  164] :  'Custom  has,  so  far  as  we 
know,  but  one  course  of  development,  and  that  is  from  pre- 
ceding customs  of  kindred  contents.  Usage,  fashion,  and 
habits,  on  the  other  hand,  constitute  a  mixed  medley  of  new 
forms  and  relics  of  a  long  dead  past.  Transformation  and  new 
formation  are  here  often  enough  difficult  of  discrimination ; 
but  there  is  no  such  thing  as  an  entirely  new  custom '). 

To  primitive  man,  however,  the  problem  of  the 
origin  of  custom  seldom  arises.  For  him  it  is 
enough  that  such  and  such  a  custom  exists ;  and 
his  sole  explanation,  if  one  be  sought  from  him,  is 
that,  as  the  Kafirs  say  (Leslie,  Among  the  Zulus 
and  Amatongas,  Edin.  1875,  p.  146),  'it  was  so 
done  by  my  fathers,'  or,  as  the  Narrinyeri  have 
it,  that  it  was  so  commanded  by  Narundere,  the 
'All-father'  (Taplin,  in  Woods,  Nat.  Tribes  of  S. 
Australia,  Adelaide,  1879,  p.  55).  In  this  con- 
nexion it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  a  custom 
may  persist  after  its  original  cause  has  ceased  to 
be  operative,  and  that  in  such  a  case  it  may  have 
an  entirely  different  reason  and  motive  assigned  it 
(cf.  Wundt,  op.  cit.  p.  139  fT.).  At  the  same  time, 
for  specially  important  or  striking  customs,  or 
for  particularly  remarkable  natural  phenomena, 
setiological  myths  may  be  invented  with  the  most 
honest  intentions  imaginable,  so  that  custom  comes 
to  be  one  of  the  factors,  as  Lang  well  points  out 
in  his  Custom  and  Myth,  in  the  genesis  of  the 
myth. 

In  view  of  the  homogeneity  and  lack  of  sharp 
distinction  which  characterize  the  more  primitive 

1  The  theory  of  Herbert  Spencer  (Principles  of  Sociology s, 
1893,  §§  529,  6y3),  that  custom  originated  in  ancestor-worship,  is 
too  biased  and  one-sided  to  deserve  serious  consideration. 


stages  of  the  human  race,  custom  may  be  said 
there  to  permeate  and  to  control  well-nigh  every 
phase  of  man's  mental  and  moral  activity ;  and, 
although  impaired  in  part  by  the  rise  (or  is  it 
rather  the  recrudescence  ?)  of  individualism,  it  still 
exercises  this  potent  power  to  a  very  great  ex- 
tent over  the  most  highly  civilized  peoples.  In 
the  domain  of  religion  it  is  custom  which  has 
largely  influenced  ritual  and  been  in  part  respon- 
sible for  the  rise  of  myth  ;  it  is  custom,  in  the  last 
resort,  that  is  the  chief  factor  in  the  evolution 
of  law,  which,  to  primitive  man,  is  inextricably 
interwoven  with,  and  inseparable  from,  religion  ; 
custom  conditions  the  entire  existence  of  almost 
every  individual,  even  in  the  most  highly  civilized 
communities,  from  the  hour  of  his  birth  to  that 
of  his  death.  Indeed,  the  most  daring  radicalism 
and  the  most  pronounced  individualism  have  their 
own  customs  ;  for  without  custom  there  can  be  no 
type  of  human  thought  or  of  human  activity. 

Such  being  the  case,  it  is  but  natural  that  in  the 
earlier  stages  of  civilization  custom  should  be  held 
to  be  Divinely  sanctioned,  and  that  any  breach  of 
it  should  of  itself  constitute  a  serious  crime,  so 
that  the  Khonds  of  India,  the  Kamchatkans,  and 
the  pagan  Greenlanders  hold  the  breaking  of  an 
old  custom  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  of  sins 
(Hopkins,  Religions  of  India,  London,  1895,  p.  531  ; 
S teller,  Beschreibung  von  clem  Lande  Kamtschatka, 
Frankfort,  1774,  p.  274 ;  Rink,  Tales  and  Tradi- 
tions of  the  Eskimo,  London,  1875,  p.  201  f. ) ; 
while  violation  of  custom  provokes  the  wrath  of 
the  deified  ancestors  amongst  the  Basuto  (Casalis, 
Basutos,  London,  1861,  p.  254) ;  disaster  and  harm 
follow  such  infringement  amongst  the  Ewe  and 
Aleuts  (Ellis,  Etve-speaking  Peoples,  London,  1890, 
p.  263 ;  Elliot,  Alaska  and  the  Seal  Islands,  New 
York,  1886,  p.  170) ;  and  the  Ainu,  in  such  an 
event,  fear  the  wrath  of  the  gods  (Batchelor,  Ainu 
of  Japan,  London,  1892,  p.  243  f.).  Whether, 
however,  Wundt  is  right  in  saying  (op.  cit.  p.  134) 
that  '  custom  was  at  first  an  act  of  worship '  seems 
open  to  question. 

With  the  evolution  of  a  specific  concept  of  law, 
a  distinction  may  be  drawn  between  law  and 
custom,  as  when  Plautus  (Trin.  1033,  1037)  makes 
Stasimus  say : 

'  Ambitio  iam  more  sanctast,  liberast  a  legibus,  .  .  . 

Mores  leges  perduxerunt  iam  in  potestatem  suam ' ; 

and  a  few  lines  further  on  he  utters  the  profound 

truth,  valid  even  when  taken  in  the  cynical  spirit 

of  its  speaker : 

'  Leges  mori  serviunt '  3 — 
a  phrase  which,  like  the  Talmudic  maxim,  'Cus- 
tom always  precedes  law '  (Soferirn,  xiv.  18),  might 
well  serve  as  the  motto  for  almost  any  treatise  on 
the  origin  of  law  ;  while  in  like  manner  Justinian 
expressly  says  that  '  long  prevailing  customs,  being 
sanctioned  by  the  consent  of  those  who  use  them, 
assume  the  nature  of  laws '  (Instit.  I,  ii.  9). 

When  it  becomes  possible  to  draw  such  a  dis- 
tinction between  custom  and  law,  infringement  of 
the  former,  unless  distinctly  coincident  with  and 
protected  by  law,  no  longer  constitutes  an  offence 
of  which  legal  cognizance  must  be  taken,  although 
even  so  advanced  a  code  as  the  Jerusalem  Talmud 
(Pesahim,  iv.  3)  authorized  the  courts  to  punish 
transgressors  of  custom  equally  with  transgressors 
of  law — a  survival  of  some  such  stage  as  that  of  the 
African  Wanika,  amongst  whom,  '  if  a  man  dares 
to  improve  the  style  of  his  hut,  to  make  a  larger 
doorway  than  is  customary;  if  he  should  wear  a 
finer  or  different  style  of   dress  to  that  of    his 

1  The  strictly  legal  distinction  between  lex,  mos,  and  consuetudo 
is  thus  summarized  by  Isidore  of  Seville  (Etymol.  v.  iii.  2  f .) : 
*  Lex  est  constitutio  scripta.  Mos  est  vetustate  probata  con- 
suetudo,  sive  lex  non  scripta.  .  .  .  Consuetudo  autem  est  ius 
quoddam  moribus  institutum,  quod  pro  lege  suscipitur,  cum 
deficit  lex  ;  nee  differt  scriptura  an  ratione  consistat  quando  et 
legem  ratio  commendat.' 


376 


CUSTOM 


fellows,  he  is  instantiy  fined  '  (C.  New,  Life,  Wan- 
derings, and  Labours  in  E.  Africa,  London,  1873,  p. 
110).  Yet  this  failure  of  modern  law  normally  to 
give  legal  protection  to  custom  does  not  mean  that 
non-observance  of  custom,  whether  such  infringe- 
ment be  careless,  indifferent,  unwitting,  compul- 
sory, or  deliberately  intentional,  goes  scot-free. 
Any  such  violation  may,  and  often  does,  lead  to 
social  ostracism  of  greater  or  less  extent,  even 
when  the  infringed  custom  in  question  may  be 
ethically  indifferent. 

And  yet,  the  separation  between  custom  and  law 
is  by  no  means  complete,  even  from  the  legal  point 
of  view ;  for  it  is  custom,  as  is  well  known,  that 
forms  the  basis  of  the  vast  body  of  common  law  in 
England,  whence  it  was  adopted  in  N.  America.1 
Into  the  details  of  the  common  law  distinctions 
between  general  and  particular  customs — the  latter 
category  applying  only  to  particular  districts  or  to 
those  engaged  in  particular  occupations,  and  not 
recognized,  except  in  a  few  States,  by  the  common 
law  of  the  United  States — it  is  unnecessary  to 
enter  here.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  a  custom,  to  be 
enforceable  at  common  law,  must  be  both  definite 
and  reasonable,  and  that  it  must  have  been  used 
uninterruptedly  and  undisputedly  *so  long  that 
the  memory  of  man  runneth  not  to  the  contrary,' 
this  latter  phrase  being  understood  to  mean  from 
the  accession  of  Richard  I.  in  1189  (whence  the 
rejection  of  particular  customs  in  the  United 
States,  since  none  such  could  there  possibly  date 
from  such  'time  immemorial'). 

Law,  being  normally  derived  from  custom,  is  for 
the  most  part  in  harmony  with  it;  so  that  in 
practically  every  affair  of  everyday  life  one  avoids 
all  conflict  with  law  if  one  simply  follows  custom. 
At  the  same  time,  just  as  custom  may  be  in  sharp 
contrast  with  habit,  such  may  be  its  relation  to 
law.  In  this  case  the  law  in  question— whether  as 
being  due  to  the  caprice  of  the  ruler  or  to  the  more 
advanced  ideas  of  the  governing  classes — is  not,  as 
is  usually  the  state  of  affairs,  derived  from  custom, 
but  from  the  weaker  source  of  individual,  class,  or 
other  minority  requirements.  Under  these  condi- 
tions law  usually  succumbs  to  custom  and  remains 
a  dead  letter,  so  that,  for  instance,  'under  the 
Hindu  system  of  law,  clear  proof  of  usage  will 
outweigh  the  written  text  of  the  law '  (Mayne, 
Treatise  on  Hindu  Law  and  Usage,  Madras,  1878, 
p.  41);  while  the  Roman  jurists  (Instit.  I.  ii.  11  ; 
Digesta,  I.  iii.  32)  laid  down  the  maxim  that  a  law 
may  be  abrogated  by  desuetude  or  by  contrary 
usage.  Nay,  law  being  even  more  conservative 
than  custom,  the  change  of  custom  may  be  such 
that  a  law — even  one  which  initially  may  have 
been  far  in  advance  of  custom — may  come  to  be  so 
much  behind  and  below  the  altered  custom  that  it 
is  resolved,  for  this  very  reason,  into  a  mere  dead 
letter,  and  must  either  fall  into  oblivion  or  be 
amended  to  meet  the  changed  conditions  of  the 
social  organism.  In  general  it  may  be  postulated 
that  no  law  can  be  enforced  against  the  prevailing 
custom  ;  even  chiefs  and  kings,  with  the  apparently 
despotic  powers  that  attach  to  them  in  primitive 
society,  prove  unequal  to  the  task  (cf.  the  examples 
quoted  by  Westermarck,  MI  i.  162)  ;  and  the 
lamentable  failure  of  many  laws  designed  for  the 
highest  benefit  to  society  and  drafted  by  men  of 
unimpeachable  ethical  character  proves  —  were 
proof  necessary — that  custom  is  really  supreme 
over  law  in  the  highest  as  well  as  in  the  lowest 
stages  of  civilization. 

As  has  already  been  noted,  custom  is  subject  to 
the  most  complete  transformations,  both  in  motive 
and  in  manifestation.  Before  the  average  man  has 
1  A  similar  system  of  common  law  formerly  prevailed  in 
■•'ranee,  as  in  the  custom  of  Normandy,  of  Paris,  etc.,  and  the 
rainn  was  true  ol  Germany  almost  until  the  close  of  the  Middle 


read  many  pages  of  a  book  dealing,  say,  with  the 
peoples  of  Africa  or  of  Polynesia,  he  will  find 
mention  of  customs  that  seem  to  him  ridiculous, 
disgusting,  or  immoral — all  of  which  judgments, 
from  the  point  of  view  of  his  own  civilization,  may 
be  perfectly  true.  And  yet,  in  the  words  of  Wundt 
(op.  cit.  p.  264), 

'the  moral  value  of  the  personality  is  relative;  it  varies  with 
the  stage  of  development  to  which  moral  ideas  have  attained. 
.  .  .  Judgment  of  the  moral  value,  whether  of  the  individual  or 
of  society,  depends  not  upon  the  absolute  value  of  their  disposi- 
tion and  action,  but  upon  the  relation  of  these  to  the  stage  of 
moral  evolution  already  achieved. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  any  custom  whatever,  no 
matter  how  repugnant  to  our  present  aesthetic  or 
moral  sense  it  may  be,  can  ever  have  arisen  with- 
out some  reason  which — immoral  or  foolish  though 
such  reason  may  seem  to  us — commended  itself  to 
the  people  adopting  it  as  subserving  some  highly 
desirable  social  end.  Thus,  the  killing  of  an  aged 
parent  is  rightly  a  crime  of  unmitigated  turpitude 
to  us,  yet  from  the  point  of  view  of  many  primitive 
peoples  (see  artt.  ABANDONMENT  AND  EXPOSURE 
and  Old  Age  ;  cf.  also  Westermarck,  op.  cit.  p. 
386  ft'. )  there  is  much  to  be  said  in  its  favour  ;  and 
in  many  other  cases  what  seems  to  us  a  most 
immoral  act  is  really  due  to  sentiments  which  we 
can  only  regard  as  praiseworthy  and,  in  the  best 
sense  of  the  term,  as  moral.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  are  to  be  found  amongst  every  people,  side 
by  side  with  customs  regarded  as  moral  (i.e.  com- 
mending themselves  to  the  best  ethical  judgment 
of  the  highest  thinkers  of  the  people  in  question), 
customs  deemed  immoral — in  other  words,  detri- 
mental to  the  best  interests  of  the  society  under 
consideration.  All  this  merely  means  that,  as 
society  develops  to  a  higher  and  higher  ethical 
stage,  customs  once  justified  by  specific  conditions 
then  existing  have  no  longer  such  justification, 
so  that  they  survive  only  by  force  of  inertia  or  as 
pandering  to  the  baser  side  and  the  lower  strata  of 
a  society  which,  as  a  whole,  has  taken  a  marked 
step  in  advance. 

Midway  between  the  moral  and  the  immoral 
custom  stands  what  we  may  call  the  unmoral  or 
indifferent  custom — one  whose  observance  or  non- 
observance  is  a  matter  of  ethical  unconcern  and 
indifference ;  but  it  must  be  noted  that  the  un- 
moral custom  is  likely,  in  course  of  time,  to  be 
regarded  as  immoral  or  wrong  (although,  of  course, 
the  reverse  frequently  happens,  so  that  the  custom 
once  held  to  be  unmoral  and  indifferent  evolves 
into  a  custom  deemed  moral  and  ethically  impera- 
tive). In  point  of  fact,  most  unmoral  customs 
have  doubtless  passed  through  the  moral  stage ; 
but  custom  qua  custom  is,  like  law,  neither  moral, 
immoral,  nor  unmoral.  Nor  should  it  be  forgotten 
that  a  custom  once  held  to  be  moral  may  come  to 
be  viewed  as  unmoral  or  even  immoral,  and  that 
still  later,  with  further  changes  in  the  status  of 
society,  such  a  custom  may  again  develop,  usually 
through  the  unmoral  stage,  into  a  moral  rule. 
But,  though  the  ultimate  basis  of  every  custom  is 
moral  and  religious,  a  custom  once  firmly  estab- 
lished tends  to  become  more  and  more  divorced 
from  true  ethical  and  religious  considerations  and 
questions,  until  at  last  even  those  most  strenuously 
adhering  to  a  custom  may  be,  as  has  already  been 
noted,  entirely  unaware  of  its  real  provenance. 

A  custom  almost  universally  regarded  as  moral 
by  a  given  society  may  be  held  by  some  of  its 
members  to  be  immoral,  or  at  best  indifferent. 
Here,  as  in  the  case  of  law,  there  emerges  a 
marked  characteristic  of  all  custom,  when  once  it 
has  gained  sway.  This  characteristic  is  thus  sum- 
marized by  Westermarck  (op.  cit.  p.  160) : 

'Custom  regulates  external  conduct  only,  ft  tolerates  all 
kinds  of  volitions  and  opinions  if. not  openly  expressed,  ft 
does  not  condemn  the  heretical  mind,  but  the  heretical  act. 
Tt  demands  that  under  certain  circumstances  certain  actions 


CUSTOM  (Hindu)— CYBBLE 


377 


shall  be  either  performed  or  omitted,  and,  provided  that  this 
demand  is  fulfilled,  it  takes  no  notice  of  the  motive  of  the  agent 
or  omitter.  Again,  in  case  the  course  of  conduct  prescribed  by 
custom  is  not  observed,  the  mental  facts  connected  with  the 
transgression,  if  regarded  at  all,  are  dealt  with  in  a  rough  and 
ready  manner,  according  to  general  rules  which  hardly  admit 
of  individualisation,' 

This  brings  up  the  difficult  problem  of  how  far 
one  ought  to  conform  to  a  custom  which  he  deems 
not  merely  unmoral  and  indifferent,  but  immoral 
and  wrong.  To  an  indifferent  custom  no  one, 
unless  he  be  finically  hyper-ethical  or — as  is  here 
more  usually  the  case— wantonly  iconoclastic  (i.e. 
delighting  in  flouting  custom  as  custom),  should 
object  to  accord  obedience,  at  least  externally,  if 
for  no  other  reason  than  merely  to  avoid  disturbing 
social  amenities  or  to  avert  unfavourable  comment 
on  the  score  of  oddity  and  '  crankiness. '  '  If , '  writes 
the  great  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  'meat  maketh 
my  brother  to  stumble,  I  will  eat  no  flesh  for 
evermore,  that  I  make  not  my  brother  to  stumble ' 
(1  Co  813  ;  cf.  St.  Paul's  admirable  discussion  of  the 
entire  question  of  the  unmoral  custom  in  Ro  14). 
The  case  is  far  different,  of  course,  with  regard  to 
customs  that  are  felt  to  be  positively  immoral  and 
wrong.  This  question  is  more  fully  discussed  in 
art.  Conformity.  Here  it  may  be  sufficient  to 
point  out  that  the  presumption  is  always  that  any 
custom  is  felt  to  be  moral  by  the  community  or 
social  organism  within  which  it  prevails.  The 
'  burden  of  proof '  must  rest  on  him  who  ignores  or 
wilfully  violates  the  custom  in  question.  In  any 
final  judgment  as  to  obedience  or  disobedience  to 
a  custom,  account  must  be  taken  of  the  history 
and  meaning  of  the  particular  custom  under  con- 
sideration, and  there  must  be  full  appreciation  of 
the  ethical  implications  of  compliance  with  or 
violation  of  the  custom  as  regards  the  moral  effect 
of  such  action  both  upon  self  and  upon  others. 
Above  all,  the  individual,  if  he  is  to  be  sane  in  his 
judgment,  must  be  constantly  on  his  guard  against 
personal  idiosyncrasies  and  the  excessive  individ- 
ualism of  modern  times — the  'right  of  private 
judgment'  run  mad. 

Literature.— Wundt,  Ethics,  Eng.  tr.,  London,  1897  ff.  (esp. 
vol.  i.  ch.  3,  '  Custom  and  the  Moral  Life ') ;  Westermarck, 
MI,  London,  190(5-3  (esp.  vol.  L  ch.  7,  '  Customs  and  Laws  as 
Expressions  of  Moral  Ideas') ;  Lubbock,  Origin  of  Civilisation, 
London,  1SS9,  p.  4-lSfL;  Lang,  Custom  and  Myth'-,  London, 
18S5  ;  Greenstone,  '  Custom,'  in  JE  iv.  395-393  ;  Holdsworth, 
Hist,  oj'  Eng.  Law,  ii.-iii.,  London,  1909;  Bauduin,  De  con&ue- 
tudine  in  iure  canonico,  Louvain,  1888 ;  Fanning:,  '  Custom,' 
in  Cath.  Encyc.  W.  576  f.  LOUIS  H.  GRAY. 

CUSTOM  (Hindu). —The  Sanskrit  word  is 
achara,  'religious  custom,'  'established  usage.' 
The  binding  force  of  custom  is  fully  recognized 
in  the  Sanskrit  lawbooks.  Thus  it  is  stated  in 
the  Code  of  Manu  (i.  108)  that  achara  is  tran- 
scendent law,  and  that,  therefore,  a  twice-born 
(i.e.  high-caste)  man  should  always  be  careful  to 
follow  it.  The  whole  body  of  the  sacred  law 
(dharma),  according  to  a  favourite  scheme,  is 
divided  into  the  three  parts — achara  (rules  of 
conduct),  vyavahara  (rules  of  government  and 
judicature),  and  prdyaichhitta  (penance  and  ex- 
piation). The  well-known  Code  of  Yajfiavalkya 
comprises  the  following  subjects  under  the  head 
of  achara :  purificatory  rites  (samskdra) ;  rules  of 
conduct  for  young  students  of  the  Veda  ;  marriage 
and  duties  of  women ;  the  four  principal  classes 
and  the  mixed  castes  ;  duties  of  a  Brahman  house- 
holder ;  miscellaneous  rules  for  one  who  has  com- 
pleted his  period  of  studentship ;  rules  of  lawful  and 
forbidden  diet ;  religious  purification  of  things ; 
srdddhas,  or  oblations  to  the  manes ;  worship  of 
the  deity  Ganapati ;  propitiatory  rites  for  planets  ; 
duties  of  a  king.     See  Dharma  and  Law  (Hindu). 

J.  Jolly. 

CUSTOM  (Muslim).— See  Law  (Muslim). 


CUTTING.— See  Mutilation. 

CYBELE  (Kvpt\-q).—  The  great  Mother  Deity 
of  the  Phrygians,  known  also,  and  especially  in 
the  cult  language  of  the  Romans,  as  the  Great 
Mother  of  the  Gods,  or  the  Great  Idsean  Mother  of 
the  Gods  (Magna  Deum  Mater,  Stater  Deum  Magna 
Idaea).  Her  worship  had  its  origin  in  Asia  Minor 
in  pre-historic  times,  possibly  prior  to  the  advent 
of  the  Phrygians,  which  is  placed  at  about  900 
B.C.  ;  became  prominent  in  early  historic  times  in 
Galatia,  Lydia,  and  Phrygia,  where  the  various 
forms  of  the  Cybele  legend  agree  in  localizing  the 
origin  of  her  cult ;  and  was  most  strongly  cen- 
tralized in  Phrygia.  Its  most  sacred  seat  in  the 
East  was  at  Pessinus,  a  Galatian  city  near  the 
borders  of  Phrygia,  but  once  a  part  of  the  great 
Phrygian  Empire,  where  the  symbol  of  the  god- 
dess, a  small  meteoric  stone,  was  preserved.  From 
Asia  Minor  the  cult  spread  to  Thrace  and  the 
islands,  and  finally  to  Greece,  though  it  never 
became  popular  there  owing  to  its  un-Hellenic 
nature.  In  204  B.C.,  in  response  to  an  oracle  to 
the  effect  that  Hannibal  could  be  driven  from  Italy 
if  the  Idsean  Mother  were  brought  from  Pessinus, 
the  sacred  stone  was  transferred  to  Rome,  and  the 
cult  was  adopted  by  the  State  and  located  on  the 
Palatine  (Livy,  xxix.  10-14).  It  first  became  of 
great  importance  in  the  Roman  world  under  the 
Empire,  when  it  spread  from  Rome  as  a  centre  to 
all  the  provinces.  Like  the  cults  of  Mithra  and 
Isis,  it  was  one  of  the  most  obstinate  antagonists 
of  Christianity,  and  disappeared  only  after  the  long 
struggle  between  the  two  religions  which  culmin- 
ated in  the  victory  of  Theodosius  over  Eugenius  in 
a.d.  394. 

As  the  cult  of  Cybele  probably  suffered  little 
modification  in  Greece  and  Italy,  the  original  char- 
acter of  the  goddess  may  be  inferred  from  what  is 
known  of  her  in  Greek  and  Roman  times.  She 
was  identified  by  the  Greeks  with  Rhea,  Ge,  and 
Demeter,  and  by  the  Romans  with  Tellus,  Ceres, 
Ops,  and  Maia.  She  was  known  as  the  universal 
mother — of  gods  and  men,  as  well  as  of  the  lower 
creation — though  her  character  as  the  mother  of 
wild  Nature  was  especially  prominent,  as  was 
manifested  by  the  orgiastic  wildness  of  her  wor- 
ship, her  sanctuaries  on  the  wooded  mountains, 
and  her  fondness  for  lions,  which  are  frequently 
associated  with  her  in  art  and  literature.  Her 
early  attendants  in  legend,  the  Korybantes,  Idoean 
Daktylov,  and  sometimes  Kttretes,  were  wild  de- 
monic beings,  probably  ithyphallic  (Georg  Kaibel, 
GGN,  1901,  p.  4SSffi). 

The  priests  of  Cybele  in  historic  times  were 
eunuchs  called  Galloi,  who  first  appear  in  Alex- 
andrian literature  about  the  3rd  cent.  B.C.  Clad 
in  female  garb,  they  wore  their  hair  long  and 
fragrant  with  ointment,  and  celebrated  rites  to  the 
accompaniment  of  flutes,  cymbals,  tambourines, 
and  castanets,  yelling  and  dancing  themselves  into 
a  frenzy  until  their  excitement  culminated  in  self- 
scourging,  self-laceration,  and  exhaustion.  Their 
consecration  to  the  service  of  the  goddess  some- 
times consisted  in  self-emasculation.  Priestesses 
also  took  part  in  the  cult. 

Like  Venus  and  Adonis,  Isis  and  Osiris,  etc., 
Cybele  and  Attis  were  usually  associated  in  wor- 
ship, and  formed  a  duality  symbolizing  the  re- 
lations of  Mother  Earth  to  her  fruitage.  The 
birth,  growth,  self-castration,  and  death  of  Attis, 
the  son  and  lover  of  Cybele,  signified  the  spring- 
ing, growth,  and  death  of  plant  life  (see  Attis). 
A  celebration  corresponding  to  the  annual  spring 
festival  at  Rome,  which  extended  over  the  period 
March  15-27,  thus  including  the  equinox,  con- 
sisted in  a  kind  of  sacred  drama  of  Cybele  am' 
Attis,  and  no  doubt  existed  in  Plirygia  also. 


378 


CYNICS 


Cybele  usually  appears  in  art  seated  on  a  throne, 
draped,  with  mural  crown  and  veil,  accompanied 
by  lions.  The  tympanum,  cymbals,  patera,  sceptre, 
garlands,  and  fruits,  and  Attis  with  his  attributes, 
the  Phrygian  cap,  pedum,  syrinx,  and  the  pine, 
also  appear  with  her.  The  so-called  Niobe  on 
Mount  Sipylus  is  a  Cybele,  and  the  Cybele  of 
Formise,  now  in  Copenhagen,  is  one  of  the  best 
sculptural  representations  of  her.  She  inspired  no 
piece  of  art  of  the  first  class.  In  literature  no  im- 
portant work  except  Catullus  Ixiii.  is  devoted  to 
her,  though  she  is  frequently  mentioned  in  the 
literature  of  the  Empire.  Her  religious  import- 
ance lay  in  her  mysticism  and  in  the  closeness  of 
her  contact  with  the  common  people,  and  was 
very  great  in  spite  of  the  gross  practices  which 
grew  up  around  her  cult. 

Literature. — See  references  under  artt.  Mother  of  the 
GOD3  and  Attis.  GRANT  SHOWERMAN. 

CYCLE.— See  Calendar,  Arthur,  Cuchu- 
lainn  Cycle,  etc. 

CYCLOPS.— See  Giants  (Greek  and  Roman). 

CYNICS. — The  name  is  derived  from  iciusv, 
'  dog,'  with  which  it  was  connected  in  several 
ways,  (a)  To  the  east  of  Athens,  beyond  the 
Diomean  gate,  on  a  spur  of  Lycabettus,  was  a 
gymnasium  known  as  the  Cynosarges.  Unlike  the 
Academy  and  Lyceum  (schools  for  youth  of  free 
Athenian  parentage),  it  was  provided  for  children 
of  mixed  blood.  Antisthenes,  son  of  an  Athenian 
of  this  name  by  a  Thracian  slave  woman,  taught 
his  disciples  here  after  the  death  of  Socrates,  his 
second  master.  Kvvoo-apyes  is  compounded  of  Kiav 
and  &py6s,  lit.  '  white  dog.'  The  story  ran  that  the 
gymnasium  stood  on  or  near  the  site  of  an  ancient 
sanctuary  of  Hercules  (the  Cynic  tutelary,  cf. 
Wilamowitz-Mollendorff,  Euripides'  Herakles*, 
Berlin,  1885,  i.  102 f.,  130),  and  that,  on  the  first 
occasion  of  sacrifice  to  the  hero,  a  dog  rushed  in 
and  seized  a  portion  of  the  offering.  The  designa- 
tion refers,  possibly,  not  to  the  colour  of  the  dog, 
but  to  the  flash-like  effect  of  its  speed  upon  the 
spectator,  (b)  The  epithet '  dog '  was  soon  adopted 
by  Cynic  teachers — Antisthenes,  the  '  downright 
dog,'  Diogenes,  the  'royal  dog' — doubtless  as  a 
symbol  of  their  return  to  the  '  simplicity '  of  animal 
nature  and  habits,  or  of  endurance  and  hardihood 
(cf.  Plato,  Rep.  ii.  375 f.,  v.  415 f.);  it  was  also 
applied  to  them  by  their  opponents  for  less  flatter- 
ing reasons,  connected  with  displays  of  audacity, 
coarseness,  and  immodesty  (cf.  Winckelmann, 
Antisth.  Frag.,  1842,  p.  81.).  (c)  Eventually  the 
epithet  became  so  associated  with  the  sect  in  the 
popular  mind  that  the  Corinthians  placed  a  marble 
dog  upon  the  pillar  erected  by  them  over  the  grave 
of  Diogenes. 

I.  History. — (a)  Personal. — The  Cynics  flourished 
prosperously  for  about  a  century  after  the  death 
of  Socrates  (399-299  B.C.).  As  their  teaching 
contemplated  a  way  of  life  rather  than  a  philo- 
sophical system,  and  as  their  works  are  lost,  or 
known  only  in  fragments  and  by  late  reports  at 
second-hand,  we  are  not  informed  in  detail  about 
the  history  of  the  sect.  Indeed,  Antisthenes, 
Diogenes,  and  Crates  excepted,  many  representa- 
tives are  little  more  than  names  to  us. 

Antisthenes  of  Athens  (e.  444-374  B.C.),  at  first  a  pupil  of 
Gorgias  the  Sophist,  and  a  '  late  learner '  (cf.  Plato,  Sopk.  251) 
with  Socrates, — Plato  implies  one  too  old  to  learn, — founded 
the  movement.  Diogenes  of  Sinope  (c.  412-323)  was  his  most 
notable,  notorious,  and  popular  follower.  He  appears  to  have 
won  many  disciples,  probably  at  Corinth  principally,  where  he 
was  sold  as  a  slave  to  Xeniades,  whose  sons  he  taught.  Among 
them  were  Monimus,  a  slave  from  Syracuse,  an  admirer  of 
Orates  ;  Onesicritus  of  ^Egina  (fl.  c.  327),  an  officer  who  went  to 
Hindustan  with  Alexander  the  Great,  and  interested  himself 
in  a  comparative  study  of  the  Indian  Gymnosophists  and  the 
Cynics  (cf.  G.    Grote,  Plato  and  the  Other  Companions  of 


Sokrates^, 1S85,  i.  158  f.) ;  his  sons,  Philiscus  and  Androsthenes,' 
Menander  Drymus,  and  Hegesseus  Clocus  of  Sinope.  More 
distinguished  associates,  eminent  for  other  reasons  than  their 
mere  connexion  with  Cynicism,  were,  possibly,  Phocion  the 
'  Good  '  (c.  402-317),  the  Athenian  statesman  whom  Demosthenes 
feared,  Anaximenes  the  rhetorician,  and,  certainly,  Stilpo  (fl. 
c.  310),  the  influential  Megarian  (see  Megarians),  whose  com. 
bination  of  Cynic  moralism  with  genuine  devotion  to  metaphysics 
paved  the  way  for  Stoicism  (q.v.).  Finally,  we  have  Crates  of 
Thebes  (fl.  c.  320),  the  third  leader  of  the  Cynics,  who,  unlike 
his  predecessors,  was  a  man  of  some  position  and  wealth. 
Perhaps  Bry6on,  the  Achaean,  taught  him  (cf.  Diog.  Laert.  vi. 
85).  Crates  counted  among  his  followers  his  wife  Hipparchia 
of  Maronea,  a  woman  of  good  family,  whose  incurable  infatuation 
for  the  wandering  philosopher  overcame  the  opposition  of  her 
parents  to  the  unpropitious  union ;  her  brother,  Metrocles, 
whose  social  standing  seems  to  have  lent  him  weight ;  and  his 
initiates,  Theomentus,  Cleomenes,  Demetrius  of  Alexandria, 
Tiinarchus  of  Alexandria,  Menippus  of  Sinope  (fl.  c.  273),  a 
satirist  who  influenced  Varro  (82-37),  the  Roman  poet  (see 
Neo-Cvnics)  ;  and  Meleager  of  Gadara  (cf.  Diog.  Laert.  vi.  99), 
who  may  be  classed  with  Menippus.  The  Ephesian  Echecles  was 
also  of  the  Orates-Metrocles  circle,  and  he  taught  Menedemus, 
a  furious  ranter,  once  the  pupil  of  the  Epicurean  Colotes  of 
Lampsacus ;  Menedemus  seems  to  have  been  the  last  of  the 
regular  Cynic  succession.  Thrasylus  (c.  306)  is  reported  as  a 
Cynic  acquaintance  of  Antigonus  Cyclops  (cf.  Plutarch,  de 
Vitios.  Pud.  531  [ed.  Bernardakis,  vol.  iii.  p.  376] ;  Keg.  et  imp. 
apoph.  ;  Ant.  182  (15)  [ed.  Bernardakis,  vol.  ii.  p.  29]).  Diodorus 
of  Aspendus  (fl.  c.  300),  a  belated  Pythagorean,  who  adopted 
Cynic  asceticism,  may  be  placed  on  the  fringes  of  the  sect ;  he 
is  said  to  have  conventionalized  the  garb  of  the  mendicant 
Cynic.  Theodorus  of  Cyrene  (fl.  c.  300),  called  the  'atheist,' 
emphasized  the  '  theological '  radicalism  of  the  later  Cynics, 
while  Sodates  may  have  represented  the  movement  under  one 
of  the  earlier  Ptolemys  (322-247  ?).  Later  we  find  his  pupil,  the 
facile  witty  exhorter,  Bion  of  Borysthenes  in  Pamphylia  (fl.  c. 
250),  who  boxed  the  compass  of  the  rival  schools,  and  furnished 
ammunition  to  Horace  (cf.  R.  Heinze,  de  Horatio  Bionis 
imitatore,  Bonn,  1889);  and  Teles  (fl.  c.  250),  the  Cynic-Stoic 
contemporary  of  Chrj-sippus,  a  spouter  of  hortatory  harangues 
on  a&id^opa  (cf.  Wilamowitz-Mollendorff,  Philol.  Untersuch. 
iv.  [1882]  292  f.). 

Running  over  the  names,  one  is  compelled  to 
notice  the  large  proportion  of  Cynics  who  came 
from  the  outskirts  of  Hellenic  culture — Pontus, 
Thrace,  Syria,  Pamphylia,  Egypt,  for  example ; 
they  were  not  nurtured  in  the  pure  Greek  tradi- 
tion. By  the  time  of  Menippus,  the  Syrian 
satirist  (c.  280-65  B.C.),  Cynicism  had  gone  to  seed 
in  mere  antinomianism  and  quixotry  ;  not  seldom, 
perhaps,  in  even  less  reputable  manifestations. 
Its  significant  doctrines  passed  over  into  Stoicism 
through  Zeno  of  Citium  (336-264),  the  pupil  of 
Crates ;  even  the  attempt  of  Aristo  of  Chios  (fl.  c. 
260),  Zeno's  disciple,  to  revive  the  Cynic  contempt 
for  science  and  liberal  culture  within  Stoicism 
failed,  although  he  taught  his  famous  pupil, 
Eratosthenes  of  Cyrene  and  Alexandria  (276-196), 
the  cosmopolitan  humanitarianism  of  Diogenes. 
No  doubt,  Cynicism  survived  sporadically,  almost 
as  a  'mendicant  order'  in  all  likelihood, — often  of 
sorry  scoundrels, — till  its  re-appearance,  in  Roman 
Imperial  times  (cf.  J.  Bernays,  Luhian  u.  d. 
Kynilcer,  Berlin,  1879),  with  Demetrius,  the 
contemporary  of  Seneca,  and  others  (see  Neo- 
Cynics).  But  its  essential  contribution  had  been 
absorbed  into  Stoicism,  which  always  retained 
traces  of  Cynic  tendencies,  as  may  be  noted  even 
so  late  as  Epictetus  (cf.  Diss.  iii.  19-22 ;  R.  D. 
Hicks,  Stoic  and  Epicurean,  London,  1910,  p. 
95  f.). 

(b)  Socio-philosophical  origins.— Greek  reflexion 
originated  in  the  desire  to  know  for  the  sake  of 
knowledge  ;  and,  in  this  sense,  philosophy  became 
a  life.  Thus,  the  problems  of  knowledge  and  of 
conduct  never  lay  far  apart.  But,  as  aspects  of 
one  whole,  they  struggled  for  mastery,  with  vary- 
ing fortune.  The  Cynics  represent  an  extreme 
Ehase,  in  which  science  and  culture  had  ceased  to 
e  held  as  of  any  value  that  was  not  pragmatic, 
and  '  philosophy '  had  been  reduced  to  the  most 
beggarly  elements  of  paradoxical  utilitarian 
practice.  This  issue  was  one  natural  result  of  the 
historical  antecedents  of  the  Greek  municipal 
societies,  and  of  the  reaction  upon  their  conventions 
after  the  displacements  due  to  the  Persian  war 


CYNICS 


379 


(490-45  B.C.).  The  difficulty  was  to  adjust  the 
Tro\irda  to  empire,  the  particularism  of  the  Greek 
citizen  to  the  universalisni  of  mankind ;  and  it 
took  shape  in  the  lengthy  controversy  about  v6/ios 
and  </>t)cris  (see  Casuistry),  in  which  the  Cynics 
played  the  most  partisan  r61e  (cf.  Dewey-Tufts, 
Ethics,  1908,  pt.  i.  ch.  vii.).  Very  briefly,  the 
development  of  the  Hellenic  municipal  societies 
had  been  as  follows.  The  corporate  family  was 
an  outgrowth  of  ancient  religion,  and  appealed  to 
religious  sanctions  (cf.  Solon,  frag.  12).  Thus, 
domestic  law  and  the  rule  of  the  family-group 
were  integral  parts  of  the  '  Divine  favouring  fate ' 
within  a  man  (cf.  Pindar,  01.  ii.  94,  ix.  28,  100, 
110,  xiii.  13;  Nem.  vii.  30,  viii.  35).  The  wider 
civic  law  and  municipal  government  were  evolved 
gradually  on  this  basis  (cf.  Fustel  de  Coulanges, 
La  Citi  antique u,  Paris,  1895,  bk.  iii.  ch.  xviii.  ; 
bk.  v.  ch.  l.).  Local  customs,  conventions,  and 
laws  thus  acquired  gTeat  authority,  and  overflowed 
private  life  to  such  an  extent  that  it  hardly  existed 
in  the  modern  sense.  The  State  claimed  the 
citizen's  time,  intelligence,  service, — his  whole  life 
even, — in  return  for  the  inestimable  advantages 
bestowed,  inestimable  because  only  when  endowed 
with  them  could  a  man  enjoy  a  worthy  human 
career  (cf.  S.  H.  Butcher,  Some  Aspects  of  the  Greek 
Genius3,  1904,  p.  47  f.).  Accordingly,  individual 
independence  did  not  flourish — the  man  had  not 
emerged  from  the  citizen.  So  the  opposition 
between  old  norms  and  new  experiences  remained 
latent,  more  or  less,  till  the  Sophists  (q.v.)  broached 
it  with  their  pupils,  and  Aristophanes  and  Euripides, 
each  in  his  characteristic  way,  ventilated  it  before 
the  public  at  large.  The  theoretical  side  of  the 
controversy  most  probably  reached  the  Cynics 
through  the  influence  of  Gorgias  upon  Antisthenes ; 
the  practical  or  social  deductions  through  Socrates, 
to  whom,  in  his  last  years,  Antisthenes  resorted. 
But  the  Cynics  were  '  imperfect '  Socratics,  who 
interpreted  the  Athenian  sage  in  a  fashion  of  their 
own,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  Socratic 
'  irony '  and  contemporary  socio-political  changes 
gave  colour  to  their  anarchism. 

The  social  conditions  are  perplexing,  because 
they  oscillated  in  a  twofold  movement.  On  the 
one  hand,  and  negatively,  the  decay  of  age-old 
beliefs  (cf.  Aristophanes,  Nub.  396  f.,  1060  f.,  1420  f. ; 
Plato,  Rep.  ii.  358-65)  sapped  confidence  in  the 
adequacy  of  national  institutions.  Could  the  State 
j  ustif  y  its  pervasive  interference  with  the  individual, 
by  rendering  sufficient  return?  This  question — 
its  terms  becoming  clearer  gradually — provoked 
inquiry ;  the  sequel  was  reflective  ethics.  And, 
as  reflexion  bodes  search  for  a  stable  principle,  the 
possibility  that  this  had  not  been  found  was 
implied.  Hence  a  critical  movement  in  theory. 
The  Peloponnesian  War  (431-405)  forced  similar 
issues  upon  the  average  man  in  daily  life  (cf. 
Thueyd.  iii.  40-44,  82,  v.  89).  The  generous 
assurance  of  high  vocation  that  nurtured  Pindar, 
Themistocles,  jEschylus,  Sophocles,  Pericles,  and, 
as  a  glorious  consummation,  Plato,  beat  feebler 
and  feebler.  On  the  other  hand,  and  positively, 
new  men  broke  into  the  ancient  State,  bringing 
new  associations.  Traditional  civic  usages  bore 
less  meaning  for  them,  because  they  did  not  share 
the  compensation  to  the  full.  Necessarily,  they 
felt  other  aspirations,  and  gravitated  towards 
other  standards.  The  straits  of  war  drove  the 
rural  population  upon  Athens,  just  as,  during 
prosperous  peace,  strangers  had  flocked  to  her 
gates.  Inaction  and  demoralization  bred  a  pro- 
letariat, neither  citizen  nor  slave,  which  strained 
the  ordinary  resources  of  government.  In  addition, 
the  marvellous  instances  of  individual  development, 
the  glory  of  the  Periclean  epoch,  set  a  potent 
example.      And    the    energies    and    personalized 


aims  here  manifested  had  to  find  fresh  channels. 
Pericles  could  say  :  '  We  [Athenians]  alone  regard 
a  man  who  takes  no  interest  in  public  affairs,  not 
as  a  harmless,  but  as  a  useless,  member  of  society ' 
(Thueyd.  ii.  40).  But,  political  autonomy  shrunk 
or  gone,  this  socialized  unity  lost  its  power  to 
charm.  Accordingly,  what  more  natural  than  that 
'  social  reform '  should  attract  many  ?  What  more 
natural  than  that  they  should  concentrate  upon 
the  personal  ideal,  uiT&pKua.  (cf.  Gomperz,  Gr. 
Denfer,  1903  [Eng.  tr.  1905],  vol.  ii.  bk.  iv.  chs. 
i. — iii..) ?  'The  honest  man  is  Nature's  noble' 
(Eurip.  frag.  336).  But,  what  may  '  honest '  mean  ? 
The  Cynics  were  to  extract  their  answer  from 
Socrates  (q.v.). 

Plato  makes  Socrates  speak  as  follows,  in  his 
famous  speech  of  defence  : 

4  If  you  say  to  me,  "Socrates,  this  time  ...  we  will  let  you  off, 
but  upon  one  condition,  that  you  are  not  to  inquire  and 
speculate  in  this  way  any  more."  ...  I  should  reply  :  "Men  of 
Athens,  I  honour  and  love  you ;  but  I  shall  obey  God  rather 
than  you,  and,  while  I  have  life  and  strength,  I  shall  never 
cease  from  the  practice  and  teaching  of  philosophy,  exhorting 
any  one  whom  I  meet  after  my  manner,  and  convincing  him, 
saying :  "  O  my  friend,  why  do  you,  who  are  a  citizen  of  the 
great  and  mighty  and  wise  city  of  Athens,  care  so  much  about 
laying  up  the  greatest  amount  of  money  and  honour  and 
reputation,  and  so  little  about  wisdom  and  truth  and  the 
greatest  improvement  of  the  soul,  which  you  never  regard  or 
heed  at  all?    Are  you  not  ashamed  of  this?'"  (Apol.  29). 

This  represents  the  Socratic  spirit  admirably. 
But  Socrates  left  no  methodical  system,  nor  did  he 
prescribe  specifics  for  social  ills.  Devotion  to  the 
Athenian  State,  and  respect  for  the  higher  personal 
life,  were  the  poles  of  his  character  and  teaching. 
He  could  say  of  the  State  : 

'Our  country  is  .  .  .  higher  and  holier  far  than  mother  or 
father.  .  .  .  When  we  are  punished  by  her  .  .  .  the  punishment 
is  to  be  endured  in  silence.  .  .  .  Whether  in  battle  or  in  a  court 
of  law,  or  in  any  other  place,  he  [the  citizen]  must  do  what  his 
city  and  his  country  order  him.  .  .  .  This  is  the  voice  which  I 
seem  to  hear  murmuring  in  my  ears,  like  the  sound  of  the  flute 
in  the  ears  of  the  mystic '  (Plato,  Crito,  61,  54 ;  cf.  J.  Adam, 
Crito,  1888,  Introd.  p.  xivf.). 

That  is,  Socrates  preserved  intact  the  old  Greek 
consecration  to  the  ydos  of  the  City-State,  with  its 
subordination  of  the  individual  to  the  community 
as  the  will  of  the  gods,  and  as  the  most  valuable 
(useful)  relation  for  the  citizen.  In  practice,  he 
identified  himself  completely  with  Athens,  whose 
vicinity  he  seldom  left  (cf.  Plato,  Crito,  52).  But, 
at  the  same  time,  touched  by  the  ampler  experience 
of  the  new  age,  he  strove  to  universalize  the 
individual.  '  Whether  the  individual  is  a  part  of 
a  wider  teleological  system  or  no,  becomes  thus  for 
Socrates  a  secondary  question ;  and  what  he  is 
mainly  interested  to  maintain  is  that  each  man  for 
himself  should  work  out  such  a  system  in  his  own 
life '  (E.  Caird,  Evolution  of  Theology  in  the  Gr. 
Philosophers,  1904,  i.  70).  Socrates  could,  there- 
fore, declare  to  Antiphon  :  '  To  have  no  wants  at 
all  is,  to  my  mind,  an  attribute  of  godhead ;  to 
have  as  few  wants  as  possible,  the  nearest  approach 
to  godhead'  (Xenopn.  Mem.  i.  6).  That  is,  his 
asceticism  was  no  end  in  itself,  but  accessary  to 
the  desire  to  secure  due  scope  for  the  higher 
activities  of  manhood.  The  positive  purpose  thus 
involved  a  negative  element.  Now  Socrates  lived 
all  this,  but  left  no  authoritative  exposition  of  it. 
Accordingly,  his  '  imperfect '  followers  seized  upon 
one  or  other  aspect  of  his  personality,  and  pushed 
it,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  compensating  factors. 
'  The  Cynics  so  enforced  this  negative  moment 
that  they  placed  freedom  in  actual  renunciation 
of  so-called  superfluities'  (Hegel,  Werlce,  1842, 
xiv.  139,  Eng.  tr.  Hist,  of  Phil.,  1892,  i.  480-81). 
Historical  circumstances  occasioned  their  revolt 
from  the  communal  ideas  of  the  City-State.  The 
'  wise  man '  will  not  govern  himself  according  tn 
enacted  laws,  but  by  the  law  of  virtue  (Antisthenes, 
ap.  Diog.  Laert.  vi.  11).  The  sole  authentic  citizen 
ship  is  citizenship  of  the  world  (Diogenes,  ib.  vi 


380 


CYNICS 


83).  In  short,  under  stress  of  social  exigency,  the 
Cynics  abstracted  Socratic  independence  from  the 
conditions  whence  it  drew  its  strength  and  relevance, 
and  identified  virtue  with  unbridled  protest  against 
social  relations.  '  Bury  me  on  my  face,'  said 
Diogenes  to  Xeniades,  '  for,  ere  long,  everything 
will  be  turned  upside  down '  (Diog.  Laert.  vi.  31-32). 
The  Cynics  lost  recollection  that  the  Socratic 
dialectic  was  an  incidental  means  to  disclosure  of 
the  fundamental  principles  of  morality.  They 
could  '  think  only  of  the  barefooted  old  man, 
indefatigably  disputing  in  the  open  streets,  and 
setting  himself  against  society'  (Grant,  Ethics  of 
Aristotle3,  1874,  i.  171).  Thus  minded,  they  turned 
upon  contemporary  norms  and,  holding  nothing 
holy,  flouted  human  ties  scornfully,  violently,  and 
coarsely. 

2.  Teaching'. — (a)  Theoretical. — Avowedly,  the 
Cynics  were  bent  upon  a  practical  end.  Indeed, 
it  is  often  asserted  that  they  repudiated  scientific 
training  and  mental  culture,  with  no  little  osten- 
tation. This  is  probably  an  over-statement.  It 
would  be  nearer  the  mark  to  say  that  they  sub- 
ordinated scientific  inquiries  to  the  attainment  of 
virtue,  regarding  intellectual  discipline  as  in- 
different in  itself.  Thus,  while  they  combated 
men  of  the  Plato  type,  and  held  aloof  from  the 
constructive  schools,  they  could  not,  and  did  not, 
escape  the  theoretical  problems  of  their  age.  Logic 
and  epistemology,  it  is  true,  had  not  reached  clear 
delinition ;  this  had  to  await  Aristotle.  Never- 
theless, with  the  Sophists,  if  not  earlier,  the  ques- 
tion of  the  relation  between  language  and  thought 
had  asserted  itself,  sometimes  in  logomachies  that 
seem  trifling  to  us.  And,  in  this  connexion,  a  dis- 
tinct negative  or  critical  movement  became  mani- 
fest. The  contemporary  Megarians,  for  example 
(cf.  K.  Prantl,  Gesch.  a.  Logik,  Leipzig,  1855,  i. 
33  f . ;  G.  Grote,  op.  cit.  i.  122  f. ),  with  whom  the 
Cynics  had  some  affiliations,  revelled  in  '  eristic ' 
gymnastics.  The  Cynic  leaders,  Antisthenes  and, 
probably,  Diogenes,  evinced  kindred  tendencies, 
as  their  fragmentary  remains,  scattered  references 
in  Plato  and  Aristotle,  and  the  reports  of  later 
writers  indicate.  Possibly  the  same  was  true  of 
Crates,  Monimus,  and  their  followers.  In  other 
words,  ere  the  ethico-political  doctrines  of  the  sect 
had  sunk  to  the  level  of  a  social  mannerism, 
'  Whose  dog-like  carriage  and  effrontery, 
Despising  infamy,  outfac'd  disgrace,' 

the  Cynics  partook  in  theoretical  discussions  of  the 
day,  occupying  a  position  akin,  apparently,  to  that 
of  the  Megarians  [q.v.),  and  one  not  far  removed, 
in  ultimate  principle,  at  least,  from  the  Cyrenaics 
(q.v.). 

Thus,  Epictetus  [Diss.  i.  17,  12)  attributes  to 
Antisthenes  the  saying,  '  The  examination  of  terms 
is  the  beginning  of  education.'  Similarly,  Plato 
(Euthyd.  111^,  cf.  Crat.  384)  records  that,  ac- 
cording to  Prodicus,  'a  right  use  of  terms  is  the 
beginning  of  knowledge'  (cf.  Protag.  337).  Un- 
fortunately, owing  to  the  loss  of  Antisthenes' 
treatise  On  Words,  we  are  unaware  how  these 
statements  should  be  interpreted.  Conceivably, 
they  imply  no  more  than  Plato  (Thecet.  201  E)  and 
Aristotle  (Met.  viii.  3)  assert.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  is  certain  that,  through  the  peculiar  notions 
about  evidence  entertained  in  their  law-courts, 
committees  of  the  popular  assembly  (cf.  R.  J. 
Bonner,  Evidence  in  Athenian  Courts,  Chicago, 
11105),  the  Athenians  had  long  been  familiar 
with  forensic  dialectic,  as  iEschylus'  Orestes 
(458  B.C.)  suffices  to  show.  Furthermore,  at  the 
time  when  the  other  Greek  arts  reached  their 
zenith  (c.  440  B.C.),  rhetoric,  the  rixv-q  of  words, 
had  flourished  for  a  generation  in  Sicily,  under 
Corax  of  Syracuse  (c.  465  B.C.);  and  Gorgias,  ac- 
companied by  one  of  its  chief  exponents.  Tisias, 


had  impressed  the  Athenians  with  it,  on  the 
occasion  of  the  Leontine  embassy  (427  B.C.),  when 
Antisthenes  was  a  lad  of  seventeen.  The  future 
Cynic  leader  became  a  pupil  of  Gorgias,  and  then 
taught  rhetoric  before  joining  the  Socratic  circle. 
And,  while  it  is  likely  that  the  epideictic  'display,' 
entitled  the  Controversy  between  Ajax  and  Odysseus 
for  the  Arms  of  Achilles,  belongs  to  a  later  period, 
the  list  of  the  writings  of  Antisthenes  preserved  by 
Diog.  Laert.  (vi.  15  f.)  proves  that  he  was  a  prac- 
titioner, not  only  of  rhetoric,  but  also  of  dialectic, 
with  its  more  or  less  subtle  and  verbal  treatment 
of  terms.  In  addition,  one  must  recall  that  Greek 
oratory  as  a  practical  art,  employing  both  rhetoric 
and  dialectic,  dates  from  Gorgias  (cf.  F.  Blass, 
Die  attische  Beredsamkeit  v.  Gorgias  bis  zu  Lysias, 
Leipzig,  1868,  p.  I  f.),  and  that,  as  a  result  of  the 
development  of  their  polity,  which  made  him  who 
'  is  master  of  the  stone  on  the  Pnyx '  master  of 
Athens  (cf.  E.  A.  Freeman,  Historical  Essays,  2nd 
series,  1873,  p.  128  f.),  rhetoric  and  dialectic  came 
to  be  of  extreme  utilitarian  consequence  to  the 
Athenians  (cf.  Isocrates'  review  of  his  life-work, 
Or.  xv.  295  f.).  Language  was  now  a  potent 
weapon,  and  the  study  of  terms  indispensable. 
Accordingly,  we  are  forced  to  conclude  that,  what- 
ever slight  Antisthenes  and  his  fellows  may  have 
put  upon  'science,'  'learning,'  and  'culture'  at 
a  later  time,  when  engaged  upon  their  ethical 
'  mission,'  the  founder  of  the  Cynic  movement  was 
educated  in  a  '  scientific '  atmosphere,  and  knew 
the  necessity  for  technical  discipline  in  the  '  art  of 
words.'  No  doubt,  the  studies  of  Protagoras, 
Prodicus,  and  Hippias,  in  etymology,  synonymy, 
and  the  like,  were  little  more  than  beginnings  in 
the  abstractions  of  grammar  ;  and,  obviously,  the 
science  of  Logic  was  even  less  advanced,  the  nature 
of  negative  propositions  especially  offering  insoluble 
problems,  whence  the  vogue  of  the  Sophistic 
elenchus.  Yet  the  Sophistic  influence  upon  the 
'  imperfect '  Socratics  is  so  pervasive  that,  before 
he  repaired  to  Socrates  at  last,  Antisthenes  must 
have  been  carried  away  by  it.  The  jibes  of  Plato 
(Phcedo,  101  D  f.  (?) ;  Rep.  ii.  372  D,  v.  454  A  (?) ; 
Thecet.  155  E;  Soph.  251  B,  230  D;  Phileb.  14  D  (?)). 
Aristotle  (Met.  iii.  2(?),  iv.  29,  vii.  3  ;  Top.  i.  11),  and 
others  (e.g.  Cicero,  ad  Attic,  xii.  38)  would  seem  to 
indicate  that  Antisthenes  and  the  rest  either  re- 
lapsed into  '  sophistical '  quibbling  in  theory,  or 
failed  to  keep  step  with  the  contemporary  advance 
of  scientific  inquiry.  For,  even  if  Xenophon's  tes- 
timony to  the  acquirements  of  Antisthenes  (Symp. 
iv.  41  f.)  be  suspect  on  account  of  his  evident  Cynic 
leanings,  the  references  of  Plato  (Cratyl.  389  f.  (?) ; 
Phileb.  44  C  ;  cf .  K.  Barlen,  Antisthenes  u.  Platon, 
1881  ;  K.  Urban,  Ueber  d.  Erwdhnungen  d.  Philos. 
d.  Antisthenes  in  d.  platon.  Schriften,  1882 ;  F. 
Dummler,  Akademika,  Giessen,  1889,  p.  148  f.),  the 
partial  admission  of  Aristotle  (Met.  v.  29),  his  serious 
refutations  (de  Soph.  El.  xx. ;  Rhet.  ii.  24),  and  the 
remark  of  Cicero  (de  Nat.  Dear.  i.  13)  warrant  the 
probable  inference  that,  while  Antisthenes  had 
once  known  better,  and  still  posed  as  a  disciple 
of  Socrates  (this  would  be  Plato's  view),  he  had 
reverted  to  the  empiricism  of  Gorgias,  and  had 
fallen  thence  into  theoretical  scepticism,  regarding 
'  science '  as  negligible  except  for  purposes  of  direct 
utility,  as  with  Hippias — had  become,  in  short,  a 
'barbarian.'  In  a  word,  although  they  started 
from  the  Socratic  insistence  upon  definition,  the 
Cynics  never  reached  theoretical  solutions  ;  in  fact, 
they  regarded  them  as  impossible,  perhaps  even 
as  worthless. 

Remembering,  then,  that  Logic  had  no  inde- 
pendent existence,  the  little  that  we  know  of  Cynic 
logic  may  be  traced  to  Socrates  for  its  primary 
impulse,  and  to  the  Sophists,  especially  Gorgias 
and  Hippias,  for  its  content.    The  effort  of  Socrates 


CYNICS 


381 


to  define  the  ideal  Good,  to  replace  a  physical  or 
cosniological  by  a  logical  <f>v<ns,  had  not  reached 
complete  success  (cf.  Xenoph.  Mem.  iii.  9.  14,  iii. 
8.  3,  i.  3.  2).  It  was  an  aspiration  rather  than  a 
final  achievement.  The  problems  therefore  were  : 
(1)  to  formulate  a  definition  carrying  universal 
validity ;  (2)  to  state  its  content ;  (3)  to  explain 
how  man  might  realize  it  in  life.  Such  fragments 
of  Cynic  logic  as  we  have  are  remnants  of  a 
theoretical  effort  connected  with  the  Jirst  problem; 
Cynic  ethics,  a  practical  reply  to  the  second  and 
third.  The  former  represents  a  reversion  to  the 
Sophists ;  the  latter  follows  mainly  from  undue 
emphasis  upon,  and  isolation  of,  one  aspect  of  the 
person  of  Socrates,  filled  out  probably,  as  regards 
its  inconsistent  universalism  (cosmopolitanism),  by 
elements  drawn  chieliy  from  the  teaching  of 
Hippias. 

Turning  to  the  logical  side,  then,  we  find  that 
for  Antisthenes  a  satisfactory  definition  must  be 
the  statement  of  the  essence  of  a  thing.  But, 
seeing  that  things  consist  of  parts,  the  only  de- 
finition practicable  would  be  a  description  of  these 
parts  as  actual  components  of  a  whole  (cf.  Plato, 
Soph.  251  f . ).  Accordingly,  the  thing  itself,  being 
simple,  is  indefinable ;  it  may  be  named,  but  the 
name  tells  nothing  of  the  essential  reality  (cf. 
Aristotle,  Met.  i.  3).  Diogenes  is  reported  to  have 
said,  when  Plato  was  talking  to  him  about  '  ideas ' 
and  using  the  terms  'tableness'  and  'cupness,'  'I 
see  a  table  and  a  cup,  but  I  see  no  "tableness"  or 
"  cupness  " '  (Diog.  Laert.  vi.  55  ;  cf.  Plato,  Parmen. 
132  B).  That  is,  according  to  Cynic  epistemology, 
general  ideas  exist  solely  in  the  mind,  individual 
things  alone  are  real.  This  is  the  earliest  distinct 
expression  of  Nominalism.  Logically,  it  results 
in  the  conclusion  that  no  judgments  are  permissible 
except  judgments  of  identity.  '  Man '  and  '  good ' 
are  different  from  one  another.  You  cannot  pre- 
dicate '  good  '  of  '  man ';  you  can  say  merely, '  man 
is  man,'  'good  is  good'  (cf.  Plato  [?],  Hipp.  Mai. 
304  A  ;  Grote,  op.  cit.  ii.  47).  This  led  immediately 
to  the  assertion,  put  into  the  mouth  of  Dionyso- 
dorus  by  Plato  (Eiithyd.  286  B),  that  contradiction 
(or  error)  cannot  occur.  If  so,  the  paradox  issues 
that  false  and  contradictory  propositions  are  im- 
possible, which  implies,  in  turn,  that  all  propositions 
are  equally  true.  As  the  question  of  logical '  form,' 
to  which  such  reasoning  might  apply,  in  the  sense 
that  '  form '  does  not  guarantee  truth,  had  not  yet 
been  considered  independently,  the  Cynics  meant, 
probably,  that  predicates,  because  applicable  to 
many  subjects,  could  not  be  attached  more  ex- 
clusively to  one  than  to  another.  But  we  are  able 
only  to  conjecture  as  to  this  (cf.  Plutarch,  adv. 
Colot.  1119  Cf.  [ed.  Bernardakis,  vol.  v.  p.  45 f.]; 
Plato,  Parrnen.  130  f.).  In  any  event,  however,  it 
is  evident  that  the  conclusion  of  the  matter  is  in 
the  Sophistic  vein.  Objects,  when  '  composed ' 
of  single  factors,  may  be  defined.  Simple  objects 
('ultimates'),  being  perceptible  only  to  sense,  are 
susceptible  of  nomenclature,  but  are  unknowable  as 
such.  The  distinction  here  raised — really  between 
percepts  and  concepts— is  valid  enough.  But  the 
inference  of  Verbalism,  instead  of  carrying  out  a 
logical  and  epistemological  analysis,  leads  back  to 
Sophistic  scepticism  which,  once  more,  is  hardly 
distinguishable  from  Sensationalism  (cf.  Aristotle, 
Met.  iii.  5).  The  Cynics  thus  seize  the  negative 
element  in  the  Socratie  dialectic  process  towards 
definition,  but  omit  the  positive.  As  a  consequence, 
they  entangle  themselves  in  a  paradoxical  inquiry 
such  as  that  typified  by  Alfred  de  Musset's  ques- 
tion— 'Le  coeur  humain  de  qui,  le  cceur  humain 
de  quoi?'  (cf.  A.  Ed.  Chaignet,  Hist,  de  la  psych, 
des  Grecs,  i.,  Paris,  1S87,  p.  189  f.,  note  4;  Grote, 
op.  cit.  i.  168  f.,  note  1). 
(b)  Practical. — The    ethical    doctrines    of    the 


Cynics  may  be  traced  to  the  coalescence  of  several 
elements  ;  and  very  probably  this  is  more  evident 
now  than  it  was  to  the  Cynics  themselves  in  then 
period  of  transition.  But  the  numerous  stories 
related  about  their  leaders  (for  the  sake  of  the 
story),  and  the  scantiness  of  the  documentary 
evidence,  render  a  dispassionate  account  very 
difficult.  Still  the  following  constituent  factors, 
at  least,  can  be  traced  with  some  certainty:  (li 
Socrates,  the  plain,  'common'  man,  sturdy  and 
independent ;  ('_>)  the  Eleaticism  of  Antisthenes' 
teacher,  Gorgias  ;  (3)  the  '  return  to  nature '  of 
Hippias  and  Euripides ;  and  (4)  the  momentary 
exigencies  of  daily  life  in  Athens  and  in  Hellas. 

(1)  The  Cynics  descend  from  the  Xenophontic, 
not  the  Platonic,  Socrates  (cf.  S.  Ribbing,  Ueber 
d.  Verlidltnis  zwischen  d.  Xenoph.  u.  Platon. 
Berichten  iib.  d.  Personlichkeit  u.  d.  Lehre  d. 
So/crates,  Upsala,  1S70 ;  P.  Diinimler,  loc.  cit.,  and 
Antisthenica,  Halle,  1882).  This  is  the  Socrates 
who,  as  we  saw  above,  made  independence  an 
attribute  of  godhead  (cf.  Xenoph.  Mem.  i.  6). 
Yet,  for  him,  asceticism  was  a  means  to  an  end 
(cf.  Xenoph.  Cyn.  xiii.),  not  an  end  in  itself,  as  it 
became  with  the  Cynics.  The  endurance  which 
he  praised  was  no  unusual  or  new  thing  ;  it  related 
to  ordinary  life,  and,  naturally,  had  been  accentu- 
ated by  the  early  '  proverbial '  moralists  (e.g. 
Hesiod,  Opp.  Di.  287  f.,  411  f.).  Quickened  by 
moral  sincerity,  Socrates  protested  against  the  in- 
dignity put  on  labour  ;  as  a  '  friend  of  the  common 
folk '  (Xenoph.  Mem.  i.  2),  he  held  work  to  be  more 
honourable  than  idleness  (ib.  iii.  8.  9,  10).  It  was 
this  side  of  his  character  that  attracted  Antis- 
thenes, and  produced  in  the  disciple  a  parody  of 
the  master's  temperate  protest  against  the  ener- 
vating habits  of  the  luxurious  city. 

(2)  But,  alongside  of  this  moralized  '  common 
sense,'  a  distinct  theoretical  element  operated,  of 
which  the  Cynics  were,  in  a  way,  unconscious. 
Socrates  had  taught  that  virtue  is  a  '  science ' 
(Aristotle,  Eth.  Nic.  iii.  8.  6),  meaning  thereby 
that  virtue  was  communicable.  Now,  although 
Gorgias  dismissed  metaphysical  speculations  about 
Being,  and  thus  showed  that  the  'science'  could 
not  be  concerned  with  '  nature,'  he  hinted,  by 
implication,  at  an  internal  (rational)  One.  That 
is,  his  argumenta  ad  hominem  emphasized  the 
homo.  Accordingly,  although  he  denied  what  he 
held  to  be  an  unconditional  object  out  of  relation 
to  self,  he  still  left  self  as  the  One,  even  the 
unexplored  One.  This  survival  of  Eleatic  doc- 
trine reappeared  in  the  Cynic  interpretation  of  the 
positive  side  of  Socratie  teaching  :  courage,  justice, 
wisdom  are  identical — they  are  knowledge  ;  or,  as 
Antisthenes  put  it  theologically,  the  gods  are 
many  Kara  v6fj.ov,  they  are. One  /caret  <j>iiaiv.  Reason, 
the  organ  of  this  knowledge,  is  the  prerogative, 
not  of  men,  but  of  mankind  (cf.  Diog.  Laert.  vi. 
105;  Xenoph.  Mem.  i.  2.  19;  Plato,  Meno,  71; 
Aristotle,  Pol.  I.  xiii.  10).  Reason  bestows  the 
power  (airru>  6tii\etv.  If  incommunicable  theoreti- 
cally, at  all  events  by  means  of  the  current  educa- 
tion, it  can  be  recognized  and  liberated  in  practical 
activity.  In  short,  Will  becomes  the  content  of 
the  '  science  '  of  the  sole  Good — virtue.  As  against 
Platonicabsolutism,  with  its  aristocratic  tendencies, 
which  separate  men  from  each  other,  the  Cynics 
assert  a  democratic  unity.  They  admit  a  prag- 
matic universal  in  the  shape  of  a  plan  of  life. 
Thus  okeios  X670S  came  by  essential  content,  despite 
nominalistic  logic  (cf.  Diog.  Laert.  vi.  12,  103).  No 
matter  what  the  theory,  essence  could  be  exhibited 
— in  overt  conduct. 

(3)  The  Cynics  preached  a  '  return  to  nature ' 
as  an  escape  from  social  convention  with  its  ills. 
Here  they  stood  in  line  with  Hippias  and  Euripides. 
Man  ought  to  be  self-sufficient.     They  meant  by 


382 


CYNICS 


this  that  there  is  a  human  '  nature,'  beyond  the 
accidents  of  citizenship,  language,  and  even  race 
(Eurip.  frag.  1050),  and  that  civil  institutions  are 
unjustifiable  because  they  interfere  with  the  cul- 
tivation of  this  common  possession.  As  Hippias 
said :  '  All  of  you  who  are  here  present  I  reckon 
to  be  kinsmen  and  friends  and  fellow-citizens  by 
nature,  and  not  by  law  ;  for  by  nature  like  is  akin 
to  like,  whereas  law  is  the  tyrant  of  mankind,  and 
often  compels  us  to  do  many  things  which  are 
against  nature '  (Plato,  Protag.  337) ;  or,  as  Iso- 
crates  put  it :  '  Athens  .  .  .  has  brought  it  to 
pass  that  the  name  "  Greek  "  should  be  thought  no 
longer  a  matter  of  race  but  a  matter  of  intelli- 
gence' (Or.  iv.  50).  Hence  Cynic  cosmopolitanism. 
The  Cynics  proposed  to  realize  this  unitary  '  nature ' 
by  denuding  themselves  of  wants,  by  eschewing 
obligation  to  the  '  resources  of  civilization. '  Sim- 
plicity, temperance,  ability  to  fend  for  self,  were 
to  be  the  means  to  this  end.  Hence  their  an- 
archism. 

(4)  Even  before  the  Peloponnesian  War,  the 
Hellenic  world  had  grown  conscious  of  new  dis- 
placements, and  the  course  of  the  struggle  accent- 
uated this  condition.  The  iroXirela  lacked  the 
flexibility  needed  to  meet  the  transition.  Con- 
sequently, men  became  aware  increasingly  of 
a  separation  between  the  organized  State  and 
transient  society  (cf.  6.  A.  and  W.  H.  Simcox, 
Demosthenes  and  Mschines  '  On  the  Crown,'  1872, 
p.  lxviif.).  As  has  been  said  above,  the  citizen 
no  longer  found  absorbing  vocation  in  his  citizen- 
ship :  loyalty  was  on  the  wane.  Besides,  the  war 
produced  special  effects  of  its  own.  The  unity  of 
Hellas  and  the  independence  of  the  rival  cities 
proved  to  be  incompatible  ideals  ;  the  gulf  between 
rich  and  poor  yawned  wider  ;  the  itch  for  personal 
recognition  brought  disregard  of  social  responsi- 
bility ;  and  numerous  men  '  without  a  country ' 
roamed  over  all  Greece  (cf.  Isocrates,  Ep.  ix.  10). 
The  system  of  education  had  forfeited  the  con- 
fidence of  many  (cf.  Isocrates,  Or.  xiii.  292 f.,  xi. 
230  f.,  x.  208  f.,  xv.  84  f.,  259 1.),  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  people  were  untouched  by  the 
things  of  the  spirit  (cf.  Isocrates,  Or.  xi.  230, 
ii.  23  f.,  viii.  161  f.,  xv.  168  f.),  as,  indeed,  Aristotle 
asserted  later  (Eth.  Nic.  i.  5.  3).  Every  one  was 
finding  fault  with  his  neighbour ;  the  efficiency  of 
democratic  government  was  in  doubt.  These 
grave  matters  were  at  once  the  incentives  to,  and 
the  immediate  objects  of,  the  Cynic  'mission.' 
Unfortunately,  hindered  doubtless  by  the  temper 
of  the  time,  the  Cynics,  who  surpassed  all  in 
fearlessness,  appear  to  have  employed  no  weapon 
more  potent  than  contentious  abuse,  and  to  have 
prescribed  no  remedy  more  practicable  than  an 
impossible  renunciation.  Better  known  to  the 
masses  than  any  other  teachers,  their  extrava- 
gance and  licence  rendered  them  easy  marks  for 
ridicule  and  resentment,  so  that  the  seriousness  of 
the  evils  which  they  attacked  legitimately  was 
overshadowed  by  the  bizarre  conduct  of  the  critics. 
Few,  if  any,  constructive  results  were  accomplished 
in  the  4th  cent.,  as  the  state  of  affairs  under 
Eubulus  (354-338  B.C.)  serves  to  show  (cf.  Iso- 
crates [c.  353  B.C.],  Or.  xv.  270  f.  ;  J.  Beloch, 
Die  attische  Politik  seit  Perikles,  Leipzig,  1884, 
p.  173  f.).  These  influences,  then,  probably  along 
with  others,  now  irrecoverable,  moulded  the  Cynic 
ethics. 

Although  the  Sophist  was  a  Texvoyp6.<pos,  the 
teacher  of  a  practical  '  art ' — and  Gorgias  belonged 
very  distinctly  to  this  type— a  man  of  Antisthenes' 
quality,  when  deflected  by  Socrates,  could  easily 
pick  holes  in  Sophistic  practice  (cf.  Plato,  Soph. 
250  A) ;  he  and,  more  emphatically,  his  follower, 
Diogenes,  might  retain  portions  of  the  Gorgian 
method  (cf.  Aristotle,  Bhet.  iii.  17.  7),  the  temper 


never.  Seeking  reputation  and  gain,  the  Sophists 
could  not  be  entirely  disinterested  (cf.  Xenoph. 
Oyn.  xiii. ).  Perforce  they  had  to  adapt  themselves 
to  popular  tastes ;  and  Gorgias,  conspicuously, 
seems  to  have  conformed  himself  to  current  pre- 
judices ;  in  like  manner,  Hippias'  ideal  of  a  union 
between  the  Greek  States,  just  because  it  was  not 
original  with  him,  serves  to  illustrate  a  similar 
tendency.  Such  pliability,  amounting  often  to 
hollowness,  revolted  Antisthenes,  when  contact 
with  Socrates  had  converted  him.  The  times 
appeared  to  call  for  sterner  stuff.  It  was  not 
enough  to  suggest  moral  notions  by  elegant  dis- 
courses ;  proselytes  must  be  secured.  Independ- 
ence was  needed  above  all  else  ;  and  this  could  be 
justified  on  condition  that  a  man  found  his  ideal 
purposes  within  himself  (cf.  Eurip.  Troad.  988 ; 
Plato,  Rep.  ii.  366  E).  Thus  the  Cynics  came  to 
regard  virtue,  not  as  good,  but  as  the  Good,  and 
this  as  an  implicit  quality  inherent  in  manhood, 
made  explicit  in  the  '  wise  man '  (i.e.  Socrates 
universalized  by  Cynic  pragmatism) ;  for  without  a 
universal  there  could  be  no  philosophy  (cf.  Plato, 
Parmen.  136).  No  matter  at  what  cost,  the 
'  sage '  must  develop  and  guard  this  possession 
(cf.  Cicero,  de  Off.  l.  41),  for  on  it  depended  the 
one  great  issue  of  life — self-sufficiency.  Every- 
thing must  be  sacrificed  for  it ;  indeed,  this  com- 
plete sacrifice  was  regarded  as  the  essence  of 
virtue.  On  the  other  hand,  vice  was  the  sole 
evil ;  and  the  intermediate  values  of  life,  high 
or  low,  positive  or  negative, — wealth,  position, 
health,  poverty,  shame,  sickness,  even  death, — 
were  wholly  indifferent.  Thus  self-control  im- 
plied, not  the  moralizing  of  human  relations,  but 
their  total  eradication,  because  they  are  invita- 
tions to  weakness  or  to  submission  (cf.  Diog. 
Laert.  vi.  93).  So  the  Cynics  came  to  'exceed' 
the  nature  at  which  they  had  arrived ;  the  sub- 
jective tendency  overpowered  them.  And  there 
are  signs  that,  like  the  Stoics  afterwards,  they 
wavered  here  (cf.  Diog.  Laert.  vi.  2,  6,  13,  30,  31, 
63,  72) ;  yet  their  professed  ideal  was  to  possess 
no  home,  no  city,  to  be  beggars  and  wanderers 
(cf.  ib.  vi.  38).  For  man  comprehends  by  nature 
what  is  just  and  true  (cf.  ib.  vii.  53),  and  this 
internal  nature  is  to  be  set  free  as  against  the 
law  or  convention  of  society.  The  declaration  of 
Hippias  (Plato,  Protag.  357  D),  transmuted  now 
into  a  (pvtTts  ivdpioirlvri,  is  elevated  into  the  single 
principle  capable  of  moral  authority.  The  insight 
of  the  '  wise  man,'  won  by  renunciation,  becomes 
the  supreme  test ;  and,  according  to  its  judgment, 
all  laws,  institutions,  and  arrangements  of  society 
are  found  arbitrary  and  harmful.  They  hamper 
and  enslave  true  manhood ;  for,  morally  viewed, 
men  are  free,  and  therefore  equal,  just  because 
they  possess  a  specific  virtuous  nature  in  their  own 
individual  right.  Consequently,  man  is  able  to 
realize  the  Good  only  if  he  renounces  them. 
Society  is  the  great  Sophist  (cf.  Plato,  Pep. 
492  A) ;  it  renders  evil  absolute ;  therefore  it  is 
infinitely  better  to  be  an  uneducated  beggar  than 
an  educated  echo  of  'civilization.'  Thus  the 
Cynics  desert  their  theoretical  Nominalism,  and 
fall  into  the  old  paradoxes  resultant  upon  the 
clash  between  personal  ideal  and  social  oppor- 
tunity. Casuistry  (their  species  of  sophistry) 
marks  them  for  its  own,  and  antitheses  displace 
reasoning.  As  always,  their  anarchism  ends  in 
communism,  for,  without  fraternity,  liberty  and 
equality  are  but  barren  words.  The  socio- 
political indecision  and  helplessness  of  Hellas 
led  to  this  extreme  conclusion.  An  ulterior  prin- 
ciple, the  innate  prerogative  of  simple  manhood, 
came  to  be  viewed  as  the  only  escape  from  con- 
temporary evils.  This  indifference  of  the  Cynics 
to  political,  social,  and  domestic  obligations  led,  of 


CYRENAICS 


383 


course,  to  antinomianism  (cf.  Diog.  Laert.  vi.  12). 
Curiously  enough,  however,  they  did  not  advocate 
quietism  (cf.  F.  W.  Bussell,  Marcus  Aurelius  and 
the  Later  Stoics,  1910,  p.  51  f.)  as  a  result  of  their 
nonconformity  and  repudiation.  The  Cynic  '  mis- 
sionary '  became  a  familiar  figure,  and  he  lived  in 
face  of  the  public.  Like  Crates,  he  was  a  '  door- 
opener'  (Diog.  Laert.  vi.  86),  but  he  seems,  as  a 
rule,  to  have  been  taken  more  jocularly  than  seri- 
ously. Nor  is  this  wonderful.  Strange  as  it  may 
appear,  the  besetting  sins  of  Athenian  character 
— vanity  and  self-sufficiency — found  a  new  incarna- 
tion in  the  censoriousness  and  self-advertisement 
of  some  Cynics.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  had 
not  investigated  morality  with  due  care,  and  so 
they  could  not  deliver  themselves  from  paradox. 
For,  after  all,  consistent  Cynicism  is  tantamount 
to  a  confession  of  failure.  Deny  the  existence  of 
the  problem,  as  the  Cynics  did  in  relation  to 
Athenian  economic  conditions,  for  example,  and — 
you  have  solved  it !  '  Vanity  of  vanities,1  saith  the 
preacher,  '  all  is  vanity ' ;  whereas  the  greatest 
of  vanities  is  apt  to  be  the  preacher  himself. 

It  is  possible,  and  too  easy  perhaps,  to  judge 
Cynicism  as  the  temporary  exaggeration  of  a 
clique.  But,  after  all,  it  dealt  with  the  immortal 
things  of  life,  and  in  later  times  left  its  mark  upon 
ancient  thought ;  Epictetus  could  idealize  even 
Diogenes  {Diss.  iii.  24).  An  overwhelming  per- 
sonality like  Socrates  transmutes  the  fluid  ten- 
dencies of  his  epoch,  and  outpaces  the  average 
man.  Nevertheless,  Socrates  was  of  his  age,  and 
could  not  escape  its  limitations.  Antisthenes  and 
his  followers  started  from  this  temporary  factor, 
and,  by  confining  the  Socratic  doctrine  to  it,  im- 
pressed the  ordinary  mind.  Rudely  enough, 
perhaps,  they  proved  that  Greece  still  had  a 
conscience.  They  exercised  the  magisterial  and 
reproving  function  (cf.  Epictetus,  Diss.  ii.  21), 
emphasizing  the  force  and  conviction,  though  not 
the  dignity  and  sublimity,  of  the  master  ;  yet  this 
very  bias  freed  them  from  the  sordid  passions  of 
self-interest  which  so  afflicted  their  contemporaries 
(cf .  Diog.  Laert.  vi.  85  f . ;  Xenoph.  Symp.  iv.  34  f. ). 
As  their  denunciation  of  slavery  showed,  they  had 
a  glimpse  of  a  sublime  idea,  and  were  enabled  con- 
sequently to  enter  a  splendid  protest  against  the 
otiose  compromises  and  superficial  conformities  of 
the  day.  And,  if  their  zeal  outran  discretion,  or  even 
decency,  it  must  be  recalled  that  they  were  bred 
of  a  society  which  lived  in  puris  naturalibus  to  a 
degree  incomprehensible  by  us;  that,  by  insistence 
upon  the  moral  significance  of  much  that  had  been 
deemed  non-moral,  they  aired  questions  to  which 
otherwise  Aristotle's  saving  common  sense  might 
never  have  been  applied  (cf.  e.g.  Eth.  Nic.  x.  6). 
As  a  result,  they  paved  the  way  for  the  conclusion 
that  virtue  is  not  a  theory,  but  a  spiritual  state — 
it  is  dynamic  over  against  the  trivial.  Their 
defence  of  a  thesis  doubtless  blurred  their  vision 
of  the  seminal  personality  of  the  'wise  man.' 
Notwithstanding,  they  did  make  the  'sage'  the 
moral  norm,  and  thus  gave  the  first  hint  that  '  the 
"Return  to  nature,"  so  far  from  implying  rever- 
sion to  animalism,  and  the  reduction  of  man's 
needs  to  the  level  of  the  beasts,  was  found  to 
involve  fundamental  differentiation  of  reasoning 
man  from  the  unreason  of  the  brute  or  the  inertia 
of  matter,  to  place  man  on  a  unique  spiritual 
plane,  and  eventually  to  summon  him  from  indi- 
vidual isolation  to  conscious  brotherhood  with 
kind'  (G.  H.  Rendall,  Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus 
to  Himself,  1898,  p.  xlvi).  Driven  by  a  theory 
which  spelt  failure,  the  Cynics  could  not  per- 
ceive these  great  issues  ;  but  ideals,  whose  end  is 
not  yet,  originated  with  them. 

See   also   Casuistry,  Cyrenaics,   Megarics, 
Neo-Cynics,  Socrates,  Sophists,  Stoics. 


Literature  (in  addition  to  the  works  mentioned  in  the  text). 
— Ueberweg-Heinze,  Grundriss  d.  Gesck.  d.  Philos.  1.10(1910), 
gives  a  complete  summary  of  the  technical  literature  :  see  §  7, 
for  the  primary  and  secondary  sources  for  the  history  of  Greek 
philosophy ;  §  8,  for  literature  on  the  pre-philosophical  period 
of  Greek  culture  ;  §  37,  for  literature  on  the  Cynics  specifically. 
For  the  English  reader  the  best  work  is  still  £.  Zeller, 
Socrates  ana  the  Socratic  Schools,  Eng.  tr.,  London,  1868,  and 
successive  reprints ;  W.  Windelband,  Hist,  of  Anc.  Philo- 
sophy, Eng.  tr.,  London,  1899,  is  also  very  valuable ;  the  most 
brilliant  and  readable  account  of  the  Cynics  is  to  be  found  in 
Th.  Gomperz,  Greek  Thinkers,  Eng.  tr.  vol.  ii.,  London,  1906. 
With  Bpecial  reference,  as  a  rule,  to  the  social,  political,  and 
literary  environment,  the  following  workB  may  be  added : 
T.  C.  Finlayson,  Essays,  Addresses,  and  Lyrical  Transla- 
tions, London,  1893,  p.  194  f.;  P.  Girard,  L'Educ.  athin.  ou  v' 
et  au  ive  siecle  avant  Jisus-Christf,  Paris,  1891 ;  O.  Apelt, 
Beitr.  z.  Qesch.  d.  gr.  Phil.,  Leipzig,  1891  (the  essay  on  Cosmo- 
politanism in  Antiquity)  ;  R.  £.  Hammond,  Polit.  Institutions 
of  the  Anc.  Greeks,  London,  1895 ;  A.  Croiset,  Hist,  de  la 
litt.  grecque,  torn.  iv.  [Paris,  1900]  pp.  36  f.,  240  f. ;  P. 
Decharme,  La  Critique  des  traditions  religieuses  chez  Us 
Grecs,  etc.,  Paris,  1904,  p.  217 f. ;  R.  Hirzel,  her  Dialog:  ein 
literarhist.  Versuch,  i.,  Leipzig,  1895 ;  M.  Clerc,  Les  Me'teques 
athe'niens :  Etude  sur  la  condition  Ugale,  la  situation  morale  et 
le  rCle  social  et  iconomique  des  etrangers  domicilUs  a  Athenes, 
Paris,  1893 ;  H.  Francotte,  De  la  Condition  des  strangers  dans 
les  citis  grecques,  Louvain  and  Paris,  1903  ;  H.  Sidgwick,  Lec- 
tures on  the  Philos.  of  Kant,  etc.,  London,  1905  (the  essay  on 
the  Sophists) ;  Ed.  Schwartz,  Charakterkop/e  d.  antiken  Lit., 
2nd  series,  Leipzig,  1910,  p.  1  f.  R,  M.  WENLEY. 

CYRENAICS.— The  name  given  to  a  school 
of  thinkers  founded  at  Cyrene,  a  Greek  colony 
on  the  northern  coast  of  Africa,  towards  the  be- 
ginning of  the  4th  century  B.C.  It  is  one  of  the 
earliest  attempts — and  perhaps  the  most  thorough- 
going— to  base  the  conduct  of  life  on  the  pursuit 
of  the  individual's  pleasure.  The  founder  of  the 
school  was  Aristippus.  He  came  to  Athens  to  hear 
Socrates,  whom  he  reverenced  to  the  end  of  his 
life  (Diog.  ii.  65,  76),  and  whose  scholar,  in  spite 
of  the  differences  between  them,  he  always  avowed 
himself  to  be  {ib.  74).  Socrates  would  never  really 
have  accepted  the  pursuit  of  mere  personal  pleasure 
as  the  end  of  life ;  indeed,  in  the  Memorabilia 
(ii.  1),  Xenophon  gives  us  an  account  of  a  keen 
dispute  between  hrm  and  Aristippus  on  this  very 
point.  Yet  the  '  pupil '  might  fairly  have  claimed 
to  teach  nothing  inconsistent  with  his  master's 
fundamental  principles.  Socrates,  in  fact,  while 
claiming  that  man's  rational  life  lay  in  the  search 
after  what  was  truly  good,  had  yet  left  undeter- 
mined what  this  true  good  might  be  (see  Sidgwick, 
History  of  Ethics,  pp.  24,  31).  The  Cyrenaics 
argued  that  it  could  be  found  in  nothing  but 
pleasure,  which  was  the  one  thing  manifestly  de- 
sirable, and  which  all  creatures,  unless  perverted, 
did  desire  and  choose  (Diog.  ii.  87,  88,  89). 

This  ethical  doctrine  seems  to  have  been  closely 
connected  with  their  general  view— derived  probably 
from  Protagoras — that  the  individual  was  limited 
to  a  knowledge  of  his  own  sensations.  A  man  could 
know  only  what  appeared  to  him,  not  what  things 
were  in  themselves,  nor  even  what  they  appeared 
to  others ;  and  there  was  thus  apparently  no 
possibility  of  a  rational  assertion  that  anything 
was  noble  or  not  in  itself.  All  we  could  know  of 
'  goodness '  was  what  was  pleasurable  to  us  (Diog. 
ii.  92,  93 ;  Sext.  Empir.  adv.  Math.  vii.  191-200). 
There  was  thus  no  room  for  the  Cyrenaics  to  admit 
fundamental  differences  of  quality  in  pleasure  ;  and 
this,  it  would  seem,  they  fully  realized.  One 
pleasure  was  no  whit  better  than  another  (Diog. 
ii.  87),  nor  could  the  source  from  which  it  sprang, 
however  base  that  might  be  called,  make  any 
difference  to  its  worth  (ib.  88).  In  this  they  were 
profoundly  at  variance  with  Plato  and  Aristotle, 
who  both  argued  for  absolute  standards  of  value 
and  of  truth,  standards  going  beyond  the  mere 
opinions  of  individual  men  (e.g.  Plato,  Repub. 
bk.  vi.  ad  Jin.  ;  Arist.  Metaph.  bk.  iii.  c.  5.  1009", 
Eth.  Nic.  bk.  i.  c.  8.  1099").  The  famous  dis- 
cussion in  the  Philebus  (36  C  f.)  as  to  the  possi- 
bility of    a    distinction    between   true  and    raise 


384 


DACOITY 


pleasures,  parallel  to  that  between  true  and  false 
opinions,  is  in  all  probability  written  with  an  eye 
to  the  Cyrenaic  position.  It  is  of  great  interest 
also  to  note  that  this  initial  scepticism  of  theirs 
led  the  Cyrenaics  to  turn  aside  from  scientific 
inquiry  into  Nature,  as  from  useless  speculation 
(Diog.  ii.  92). 

The  anecdotes  told  of  Aristippus  and  his  biting 
wit  give  a  vivid  commentary  on  his  theory.  His 
seems  to  have  been  one  of  '  the  great  experiments 
in  life '  that  the  Greek  philosophers  were  not 
afraid  to  make.  Resolute,  daring,  and  self-con- 
trolled, on  one  side  it  recalls  the  great  Socratic 
tradition  of  unswerving  obedience  in  practice  '  to 
that  argument  which  seemed  the  best,'  and  even  the 
Soci  .itic  scorn  for  non-essentials ;  '  it  was  better 
to  be  a  beggar  than  a  dunce ;  if  the  first  had  no 
money,  the  second  had  no  manhood '  (ib.  70).  But 
there  is  a  sinister  side  as  well.  Aristippus  will  take 
anything  he  can  get  from  Dionysius,  the  tyrant  of 
Syracuse.  '  I  went  to  Socrates  when  I  wanted 
knowledge,  I  come  to  you  when  I  want  money' 
(ib.  78).  He  does  not  demand  constancy  from 
his  mistresses ;  what  did  it  matter  to  him  if 
others  sailed  in  his  ship  ( ib.  74)  1  Money  and 
what  money  could  get  are  not  to  be  shunned,  but 
used,  and  used  freely.  The  evil  lies  in  being  bound 
by  our  pleasures,  not  in  enjoying  them  (ib.  75 ; 
Stob.'eus,  Floril.  17,  18).  Let  them  be  as  vivid  as 
possible — the  '  calm '  so  near  indifference,  after- 
wards advocated  by  the  Epicureans,  is  scorned 
as  nothing  better  than  sleep  (Diog.  ii.  89)  — 
but  let  them  not  defeat  their  own  object  by  fetter- 
ing the  mind  (ib.  66,  67).  The  '  smooth  motion ' 
of  the  Cyrenaic  pleasure  was  always  motion,  but 
the  rippling  motion  of  a  great  sea  which  should 
never  be  roused  into  storm.  Though  circumstances 
may  prevent  the  wise  man  from  obtaining  this 
always,  yet  he  will  be  able  to  attain  more  of  it,  and 
in  a  more  intense  form,  than  any  one  else  (ib.  90,  91 ). 
Aristippus  himself  was  always  famous  for  his  easy 
mastery  over  all  circumstances,  prosperous  and 
adverse  alike ;  and  the  line  of  Horace  (Ep.  I.  xvii.  24) 
that  pictures  him  'at  peace  in  the  present,  yet 
striving  for  greater  things  '  ('  Tentantem  maiora, 
fere  prcesentibus  cequum '),  gives  us  Cyrenaicism  at 
its  best. 

The  pressure  of  the  practical  problem,  how  to 
attain  the  maximum  of  individual  pleasure,  is  shown 
in  the  divergencies  of  his  successors.  Hegesias 
felt  the  inevitable  pain  of  life  so  keenly  as  to  dis- 
believe in  the  possibility  of  anything  deserving  the 
name  of  happiness  (Diog.  ii.  94).  The  most  that 
could  be  hoped  for  by  the  wise  man,  acting  for  his 
own  interest  alone,  as  a  wise  man  should,  was  to 
escape  from  suffering,  and  this  could  be  attained 
best  by  indifference  to  external  things  (ib.  95,  96). 
Here  we  reach  a  strange  likeness  to  the  Stoics 
and  Cynics,  and,  stranger  still,  we  find  this  leader 
of  what  purported  to  be  the  school  of  vivid  per- 


sonal life  called  by  the  name  of  '  Death's  Advo- 
cate,' and  accused  of  luring  men  to  suicide  (ib.  86  ; 
Cic.  Tusc.  i.  83). 

Annikeris,  at  the  cost  of  consistency,  gave  a 
gentler  tone  to  the  whole  system.  It  is  plain  that 
the  question  between  what  might  be  called  indi- 
vidualistic and  altruistic  hedonism,  between  the 
pleasure  of  oneself  and  the  pleasure  of  others,  was 
coming  to  the  front  and  pressing  for  solution. 
According  to  Annikeris,  there  were  such  things  of 
genuine  worth  as  friendship  and  patriotism  (which 
Hegesias  had  denied).  The  wise  man  would  suffer 
for  his  country  and  still  be  equally  happy,  although 
he  got  little  pleasure  from  it,  and  pleasure  alone 
was  the  end.  The  happiness  of  another  was  not  a 
reasonable  object  of  choice,  yet  the  wise  man 
would  endure  for  the  sake  of  his  friend  (Diog.  ii. 
96,  97). 

Theodorus,  called  '  the  Atheist,'  seems  to  have 
been  the  closest,  both  in  keenness  of  intellect  and 
in  hardness  of  temper,  to  the  original  founder. 
Friendship  he  dispensed  with  ;  the  foolish  could 
not  use  friends,  and  the  wise  man  had  no  need  of 
them  (ib.  98).  There  was  nothing  to  be  ashamed 
of  in  theft  and  adultery  and  sacrilege,  provided 
one  escaped  the  penalties  (ib.  99).  He  seems  to 
have  differed  slightly  from  Aristippus  in  that  he 
felt  the  need  of  laying  more  stress  on  the  attitude 
of  the  mind,  and  less  on  the  external  goods  of 
chance  as  necessary  for  the  well-being  of  man. 
Thus  he  was  led  to  say  that  the  vital  matters 
were  not  '  pleasure '  and  '  pain,'  these  in  them- 
selves being  indifferent,  but  'joy'  and  'grief,' 
which  in  their  turn  depended  on  prudence  and 
folly.  This  at  least  is  the  interpretation  suggested 
by  Zeller  for  a  somewhat  obscure  passage  in  Diog. 
ii.  98,  and  it  is  certainly  probable. 

About  the  time  of  the  later  Cyrenaics,  Epicurus 
was  developing  a  more  subtle  and  elaborate  form 
of  the  doctrine,  and  after  the  3rd  cent.  B.C.  we  do 
not  hear  of  Cyrenaics  as  distinguished  from  Epi- 
cureans. See  also  artt  Hedonism  and  Philo- 
sophy (Greek). 

Literature. — No  writings,  other  than  fragmentary,  of  the 
Cyrenaics  themselves  are  in  existence.  The  chief  ancient 
authorities  are :  Diogenes  Laertius,  de  Clarorum  Philoso- 
phorum  Vitis,  bk.  ii.  65-104,  c.  8,  '  Aristippus '  [for  the  ethical 
doctrines  of  the  school  and  the  character  of  Aristippus],  Paris, 
1378 ;  Sextus  Empiricus,  adversus  Mathematicos,  bk.  vit  190- 
200  [for  the  metaphysical  position],  Leipzig,  1840.  See  also 
F.  W.  A.  Mullach,  Fragmenta  PhiZosophorum  Grcecorum,  ii. 
397  ft.,  Paris,  1867;  H.  Ritter  and  L.  Preller,  Historia  Philo- 
sophic*! Grcecae,  'Cyrenaici,'  204-213  B,  Gotha,  1SS8 ;  F.  Ueber- 
weg,  Grundriss  der  Gesch.  der  Philos.8,  Berlin,  1894-98,  i.  95  ff . ; 
E.  Zeller,  Socrates  and  the  Socratic  Schools  (tr.  Reichel),  ch. 
xiv.  [very  clear  and  thorough,  with  copious  quotations  and 
references],1  London,  1868 ;  J.  E.  Erdmann,  Grundriss  der 
Gesch.  der  PhilosA,  Berlin,  1895-96  (Eng.  tr.,  London,  1890),  i. 
89  ff. ;  H.  Sidgwick,  History  of  Ethics,  i.  c.  ii.  §§  2-4  [brief,  but 
illuminating],  London,  1896 ;  G.  W.  F.  Hegel,  Geschichte  der 
Philosophic,  ii.  1.  c.  2.  C.  2  [the  work  of  a  master],  Berlin,  1833. 
W.  Pater,  in  Marius  the  Epicurean,  London,  1S35,  gives  inci- 
dentally a  vivid  though  somewhat  rose-coloured  sketch  of  the 
system.  F.  M.  STAWELL. 


D 


DACOITY. — This  term,  which  is  derived  from 
Hindi  dakait,  '  robbery  belonging  to  an  armed 
band,'  probably  from  ddkna,  '  to  shout,'  is  now 
usually  employed  as  an  equivalent  for  brigandage 
(or,  technically,  the  conspiracy  of  five  or  more  men 
to  engage  in  an  act  of  robbery,  or  the  actual  com- 
mission of  such  an  offence)  arising  from,  or  at  least 
existing  in,  an  unsettled  condition  of  some  of  the 
administrative  districts  in  India.  It  is  in  this 
sense  that    it    is    used  with    regard    to    Burma. 


Originally,  however,  it  referred  to  a  much  more 
definite  and  curious  condition  of  society,  in  which 
robbery  with  violence  was  not  only  an  occupation 
but  a  religious  and  caste  duty.  Robbery  was  a 
hereditary  profession,  although  the  ranks  of  the 
Dacoits  were  continually  augmented  from  the  out- 
side. The  system  reached  its  greatest  development 
in  the  Native  State  of  Oudh  (shortly  before  its 
incorporation  within  the  British  Dominion  in 
India),  owing  to  the  incapacity  of  its  native  rulers. 


DADU,  DADUPANTHIS 


386 


But  it  was  also  prevalent  in  nearly  every  Native 
State,  and  was  encouraged  by  the  rulers,  who 
shared  in  the  proceeds  of  the  robberies  as  the 
price  of  their  toleration.  The  Dacoits  rarely  com- 
mitted their  depredations  near  their  native  haunts, 
or  even  within  the  State  which  harboured  them. 
As  their  victims  were  usually  strangers,  the 
Dacoits  were  not  the  objects  of  fear  and  hatred 
on  the  part  of  their  neighbours,  who  were  not, 
therefore,  anxious  to  betray  them  to  the  authorities. 
Their  raids  were  carefully  planned,  and  the  mem- 
bers of  an  expedition  made  their  way  to  their 
rendezvous  singly  or  in  small  bands,  disguised  as 
pilgrims  or  as  holy  water-carriers  or  as  bullock- 
drivers.  After  carrying  out  their  plans,  they  made 
their  way  back  to  their  jungle  fastnesses  with 
almost  incredible  rapidity.  As  a  rule,  they  pre- 
ferred to  avoid  bloodshed,  but  on  occasion  they  did 
not  scruple  to  take  life. 

The  Dacoits  were  usually  of  low  caste,  and  their 
social  and  religious  customs  were  of  a  totemistic 
character,  exogamous  marriage  being  the  practice. 
Their  raids  were  undertaken  only  when  the  omens 
were  favourable,  and  after  the  exercises  of  religion. 
The  deities  of  most  of  the  Dacoit  clans  or  septs 
were  Kali  or  Devi  (an  axe  sacred  to  her  being 
carried  by  Dacoit  leaders  in  Central  India)  and 
Sorruj  Deota  (the  sun-god). 

The  British  authorities  in  India  made  great 
efforts  in  the  decades  preceding  the  middle  of  last 
century  to  stamp  out  the  practice,  but,  as  it  was 
rooted  in  religion  and  social  custom  as  well  as 
encouraged  by  misrule  in  Native  States,  the  task 
was  very  severe  ;  and  the  evil  came  to  life  again 
when  it  had  been  apparently  stamped  out.  But, 
with  the  final  annexation  of  Oudh,  its  great  strong- 
hold no  longer  proved  a  shelter  for  the  robber 
clans,  and  Dacoity  since  the  Mutiny  has  been 
indistinguishable  fiom  local  brigandage,  to  the 
suppression  of  which  the  police  are  adequate. 

The  attitude  of  the  British  authorities  to 
Dacoity,  as  in  the  similar  cases  of  Thuggee  (see 
ThaGS),  affords  an  instance  of  interference  with 
native  religions  and  customs  ;  but  it  brings  out 
clearly  the  rationale  of  such  action  in  that  the 
custom  must  be  recognizably  of  an  anti-social  and 
criminal  character. 

Literature. — J.  Hutton,  Popular  Account  of  the  Thugs  and 
Dacoits,  London,  1857  ;  E.  Balfour,  Cyclopaedia  of  Indian, 
London,  1835,  i.  874.    See  also  the  literature  under  Thags. 

John  Davidson. 

DADO,  DADUPANTHIS.  —  i.  Dadu  (a.d. 
1544  to  1603)  was  born  in  Ahmadabad,  of  Brahman 
parents.  His  father,  Lodi  Ram,  had  left  his 
Shastras  and  temple  services  for  trade  with  foreign 
parts.  About  the  time  of  the  Reformation  in 
Europe  and  a  little  before  Dadu's  birth,  a  Refor- 
mation of  Hinduism  had  spread  over  all  northern 
India,  from  Bengal  to  the  Panjab,  and  south 
towards  Bombay.  Kabrr,  the  founder  of  the 
Kabirpanthls  (g.v.),  had  very  thoroughly  done  a 
reformer's  work  round  Benares.  Nanak,  from 
whom,  under  his  ninth  successor,  came  the  Sikhs, 
had  fought  idolatry  and  superstition  in  the  Panjab. 
The  influence  of  these  two  spread  far  and  wide, 
and  hundreds  of  earnest  souls  were  protesting 
against  the  grosser  abuses  in  Hinduism. 

Dadu  was  early  affected,  and  his  religious  con- 
victions led  him  to  spend  his  life  in  preaching  the 
Reformation  doctrines  over  the  midlands,  between 
Ahmadabad  and  Delhi.  He  lived  for  a  time  in 
Sambhar,  where  his  monument  is,  and  where  his 
coat  and  sandals  are  kept  as  relics  and  worshipped. 
Amber,  the  old  capital  of  Jaipur,  was  Dadu's  home 
for  a  time,  where  a  house  of  his  followers  still 
flourishes,  and  in  the  modern  capital  we  have  the 
headquarters  of  the  Nagas.  Dadu  visited  Delhi, 
and  had  an  interview  with  the  famous  Akbar. 
vol.  iv. — 25 


Thereafter  he  turned  his  face  towards  the  south, 
making  new  disciples  and  strengthening  his  old 
ones,  among  whom  were  some  nobles.  After  a 
year  in  Amber  he  went  to  Naraina,  a  village  about 
40  miles  S.  W.  from  the  capital  and  8  from  Sambhar, 
and  there  died  in  A.D.  1603. 

Dadu  left  152  disciples  to  continue  the  work 
among  his  many  followers.  His  teachings  are 
embodied  in  the  Bani,  a  poetic  work  of  5000 
verses.  In  its  37  chapters  various  religious  sub- 
jects are  treated,  such  as :  The  Divine  Teacher, 
Remembrance,  Separation,  The  Meeting,  The  Mind, 
Truth,  The  Good,  Faith,  Prayer.  The  Hymns 
appended  are  set  to  music,  and  are  suitable  for 
public  and  private  worship. 

2.  From  the  Bani  it  appears  that  Dadu  con- 
demned and  rejected  much  that  was  new  and  false 
in  Hinduism,  and  that  he  re-discovered  and  taught 
much  truth  about  God,  man,  and  salvation. 

He  rejected:  (1)  The  Vedas  and  Qur'an  as  ulti- 
mate truth ;  (2)  the  Vedantic  philosophy  ;  (3)  rit- 
ualism and  formalism  ;  (4)  the  corrupt  priesthood  ; 
(5)  caste  and  caste  marks ;  (6)  idolatry ;  (7)  the 
use  of  the  rosary ;  (8)  pilgrimages  and  ceremonial 
ablutions.  (9)  He  threw  new  light  on  the  trans- 
migration of  the  soul,  holding  that  all  possible 
rebirths  happen  in  man's  one  life  on  earth.  The 
moods  of  mind  and  the  quality  of  actions  give  the 
soul  the  birth  of  a  fox,  a  goose,  a  pig,  an  ass,  and 
such  like.  (10)  He  held  that  the  gods  6iva, 
Visnu,  and  Brahma  were  only  men  who  had 
been  canonized.  Their  pictures  and  statues  had 
been  made  and  preserved  as  object-lessons,  to  teach 
men  their  history.  (11)  Maya,  the  world,  matter, 
was  not  evil  in  itself.  The  bad  man  made  it 
evil  by  allowing  it  to  lead  his  mind  away  from 
God.  Worldliness,  and  not  the  world,  is  evil. 
(12)  He  again  and  again  says  :  '  I  am  not  a  Hindu, 
nor  a  Musalman.  I  belong  to  none  of  the  six 
schools  of  philosophy.     I  love  the  merciful  God.' 

His  doctrines  about  God,  man,  and  salvation 
included  the  following. 

'Forsake  not  the  One  God.  Forsake  all  evil.'  '1  have 
found  that  God  is  the  unchangeable,  the  immortal,  the  fearless, 
the  joy-giving,  the  best,  the  self-existent,  the  almighty,  the 
beautiful,  the  glory-of-all,  the  pure,  the  unimaged,  the  unseen, 
the  incomprehensible,  the  infinite,  the  kingly  One.'  'He  is 
brightness,  effulgence,  light,  illumination,  perfection.'  '  I  have 
made  all  things  teach  me  of  God,  and  I  know  that  He  is  im- 
manent in  the  universe  with  all  its  properties  and  elements.' 

God  is  the  Creator. 

'So  powerful  is  the  Lord,  that  by  one  word  He  created  all.' 
'  His  works  are  wonderful,  and  cannot  be  fully  understood. 
'  He  alone  does  all  and  gives  power  to  all.  He  blesses  all  His 
servants  and  is  not  proud.'  'He  created  us  after  a  model  He 
had  fonned  :  of  His  plans,  His  wisdom,  His  works,  no  man  can 
see  the  limit.'  '  Where  nothing  was,  He  made  all ;  and  when  He 
wills  it  becomes  nothing.  Become  as  nothing  before  Him,  and 
love  Him  alone.' 

God  is  the  Preserver  of  all. 

'  I  meditate  on  Him,  who  preserves  all.'  '  I  adore  the  Para- 
brahmu,  the  unsurpassable.  My  God  is  the  Holy  One.  I  worship 
the  pure  and  unimaged  one.' 

Man  is  a  creature,  and  made  to  worship  God. 

'  Who  is  so  wretched  as  the  man  who  persuades  you  to  serve 
other  gods?'  'Not  for  a  moment  even  let  God's  name  depart 
from  your  heart.'  'My  soul,  if  now  thou  knowest  not  that 
God's  name  is  the  chief  good,  thou  shalt  repent  and  say,  "  What 
a  fool  I  was ! "  '  '  The  world  is  an  ocean  of  pain,  God  is  an 
ocean  of  joy.     Go  to  this  ocean  and  forsake  the  useless  world.' 

Conscience  spoke  clearly  in  Dadu. 

1 1  have  done  very  wickedly ;  be  not  angry,  O  Lord.  Thou 
art  the  God  of  patience.  To  Thy  servant  all  the  blame  belongs. 
'  I  have  forsaken  Thy  service.  I  am  a  sinful  servant.  There  is 
no  other  like  me  so  vile.'  '  I  sin  in  every  action,  I  am  unjust  in 
everything.  I  sin  against  Thee  every  moment.  O  God,  forgive 
my  sin.'  '  I  am  the  only  great  sinner  in  the  whole  world.  My 
sins  are  infinite  and  countless.'  '  From  the  beginning  to  the  end 
of  my  life  I  have  done  no  good  ;  ignorance,  the  love  of  the  world, 
false  pleasure,  and  forgetfulness  have  held  me.'  '  I  have  lived  in 
lust,  anger,  suspicion,  and  have  not  called  on  Thy  name.  I  have 
spent  my  life  in  hypocrisy  and  the  sins  of  the  senses.'  '  I  am 
bound  by  many  fetters.  My  soul  is  helpless.  I  cannot  deliver 
myself.  My  beloved  alone  can.'  '  I  am  a  prisoner.  Thou  art 
my  deliverer.  Save  me,  O  God  most  merciful.'  "The  evil  is  in 
my  soul,  my  heart  is  full  of  passion  ;  reveal  Thyself  and  slay  all 


386 


DAGAN,  DAGON 


mine  enemies.'  'My  soul  is  sorely  afflicted,  because  I  have  for- 
gotten Thee,  O  God.     I  cannot  endure  the  pain  ;  deliver  me.' 

Dadu  knows  that  it  is  sin  which  separates  the 
soul  from  God.  The  longest  poem  in  the  Bani  is 
called  '  Separation. '  It  is  the  wail  of  a  woman  sick 
of  love  and  maddened  by  the  pain  of  separation. 

'  I  am  full  of  love.  I  greatly  desire  Thee.  O  Lord,  my  beloved, 
come  and  meet  me  ;  now  is  my  time.'  '  The  wife,  separated  from 
her  husband,  calls  day  and  night,  and  is  sad.  I  call  my  God, 
my  God,  vehemently  thirsting.'  '  My  whole  soul  calls  as  the 
Chatrag.l  My  beloved,  my  beloved,  I  thirst  for  Thee,  I  long  to 
see  Thee.  Fulfil  my  desire.'  '  O  Chdtrag  !  Thy  voice  is  sweet. 
Why  is  Thy  body  so  black  ?  I  am  consumed  of  love.  I  call  day 
and  night,  O  Thou,  O  Thou.'  '  To  whom  shall  the  wife  tell  her 
pain  ?  By  whom  send  news  to  her  absent  one  ?  Watching  his 
return,  her  grief  turns  her  hair  white.  '  As  the  opium-eater 
longs  for  his  opium,  the  hero  for  war,  tlie  poor  for  wealth,  so 
longs  my  soul  for  God.' 

Dadu  had  cast  aside  the  Vedas,  the  gods,  and  all 
that  men  hold  to  be  the  means  of  salvation.  He 
found  nothing  in  the  past  or  in  the  present,  and 
so  he  rushes  into  the  future  and  says  : 

'When  will  He  come?  When  will  He  come?  My  beloved, 
when  will  He  reveal  Himself  ?  Sweet  will  He  be  to  me.  I  will 
embrace  Him.  Without  Him  I  must  die.  Body  and  soul  will 
find  joy  when  God  reveals  Himself.' 

Dadu  knows  from  his  wants  what  '  the  meeting ' 
ought  to  be  and  what  ought  to  be  revealed  to  him, 
and  so  he  calls  on  God  to  come  as  'the  Divine 
Teacher,'  'the  Deliverer.' 

3.  Dadu's  disciples  are  called  Dadupanthis  ( '  they 
of  the  path  of  Dadu ').  They  exist  in  considerable 
numbers  and  in  two  divisions. 

(a)  The  Laymen,  '  the  Faithful,'  '  the  Servants.' 
These  may  marry,  and  follow  any  respectable  trade 
or  profession.  In  theory  they  are  supposed  to  have 
given  up  Hinduism.  They  ought  to  store  their 
minds  with  the  Bani,  and  use  their  creed  and 
prayers.  Discipline  is  lax,  however,  and  so  in 
practice  there  are  various  stages  of  attainment. 
At  times  the  connexion  becomes  very  slender 
indeed,  for  a  dole  to  a  begging  sadhu  is  sufficient  to 
maintain  it. 

(b)  The  Priests,  *  the  Esoteric,'  '  the  Masters.' 
These  are  all  monks,  and  keep  up  their  ranks  by 
adoption  from  the  better  castes.  They  devote 
themselves  to  a  religious  life  and  to  teaching  the 
Bani  ;  but  this  does  not  prevent  them  from  bearing 
arms,  practising  medicine,  lending  money,  or  from 
agricultural  pursuits.  Only  52  of  Dadu's  original 
disciples  opened,  mainly  in  Rajputana,  '  doors  of 
Dadu'  (Dadvaras)  and  adopted  successors.  Some 
of  these  '  seats '  have  prospered  in  wealth  and  learn- 
ing, and  some  have  almost  passed  away.  They 
produced  a  good  deal  of  what,  in  relation  to 
Hinduism,  may  be  called  Protestant  Literature, 
written  in  verse,  and  in  the  common  tongue 
(Bhdsa).  Probably  much  of  this  has  been  lost, 
for  it  has  never  been  collected,  printed,  or  trans- 
lated. 

The  present  distinctions  arise  not  from  difference 
in  belief,  but  from  locality  and  modes  of  life  of  the 
Dadupanthis. 

(1)  The  Khdlsas  ('the  pure,  ruling'). — The  'seat' 
of  these  is  Naraina  (Jaipur).  Here  Dadu  died,  and 
here  lives  his  successor,  the  head  of  all  the  Dadu- 
panthis. They  all  contribute  something  to  keep 
up  the  dignity  of  their  head  ;  and  here,  once  a  year, 
a  great  gathering  {Mela)  is  held. 

(2)  The  Ndgds  (soldier  monks).— Their  name, 
from  nagna  ('naked'),  refers  to  the  simplicity  of 
their  dress  when  they  go  to  war.  Their  founder  was 
Sundra  Das,  a  Rajput  of  Bikanlr,  who,  seeing  the 
value  of  the  sword,  oefore  the  Pax  Britannica  tilled 
the  land,  trained  his  followers  to  serve  as  mer- 
cenaries. There  are  at  present  about  20,000  of 
them,  in  9  camps,  near  the  Jaipur  borders,  which 
they  defend.  They  have  fallen  far  behind  in  the 
modern  accomplishments  of  the  soldier  in  drill  and 
arms.  They  have  only  the  sword,  the  shield,  and 
the  match-lock.      They  were  faithful  to  England 

1  A  bird  supposed  to  drink  only  the  rain  from  heaven.' 


in  the  Mutiny.  They  are  a  fine  class  of  men,  and 
their  training  to  read  the  Bani  and  to  arms  prevents 
them  from  falling  into  dissipation. 

(3)  The  Utrddis. — These  nave  come  from  a  great 
and  prosperous  '  school '  in  the  Panjab.  The 
founder  was  Baba  Banwari  Das.  These  Dadu- 
panthis take  to  medicine  and  money-lending,  and 
many  of  them  are  very  rich. 

(4)  The  Virkat. — These  may  not  touch  money, 
but  have  to  live  on  the  alms  they  get.  They  wear 
salmon-coloured  clothes  and  devote  themselves  to 
study.  They  seldom  stay  long  in  any  place,  but 
are  guided  by  '  grain  and  water'  (i.e.  food)  in  then- 
movements.  '  The  Master '  has  with  him  from 
one  or  two  to  many  disciples — boys  whom  he  has 
adopted  and  whom  he  trains.  The  present  writer 
has  seen  them  travel  about  in  as  large  a  '  school ' 
as  150.  They  teach  not  only  the  Bani,  but  also 
difficult  Sanskrit  books  relating  to  Literature, 
Philosophy,  and  Religion. 

(5)  The  Khakis  ('ashes-covered'). — These  Dadu- 
panthis accentuate  austerities,  wear  few  clothes, 
nave  long  coiled  hair,  and  smear  themselves  with 
ashes.  They  usually  go  about  in  small  companies, 
and  believe  that,  like  the  stream,  they  keep  pure 
by  constant  movement. 

4.  The  present  condition  of  the  Dadupanthis. — 
Hinduism,  against  which  Dadu  protested,  has,  in  a 
modified  form,  found  its  way  amongst  them  again. 
It  has  come  in  by  way  of  the  intellect,  and  many 
are  Vedantists.  It  has  also  come  in  by  way  of  the 
heart,  and  many  use  the  rosary,  worship  the  Bani 
as  an  idol,  and  prostrate  themselves  Defore  the 
sandals  and  old  clothes  of  Dadu. 

Literature.— W.  W.  Hunter,  IBI'>,  London,  1886-87,  vi. 
344,  vii.  63,  and  artt.  '  Amber,'  '  Naraina' ;  W.  Crooke,  Tribe* 
and  Castes  of  the  N.W.  Proo.  and  Oudh,  Calcutta,  1896,  ii. 
236-239 ;  E.  W.  Hopkins,  Religions  of  India,  London,  1896, 
p.  513  f. ;  J.  C.  Oman,  Mystics,  Ascetics,  and  Saints  of  India, 
London,  1903,  pp.  133,  189;  A.  D.  Bannerman,  Rajputana 
Census  Report,  Lucknow,  1902,  p.  47  f. 

John  Traill. 

DAGAN,  DAGON.— i.  The  Babylonian  Dagan. 
— In  Bab.  and  Assyr.  texts  a  god  appears  whose 
name  is  written  with  the  syllabic  signs  DA-GAX. 
The  objections  of  Jensen  (Kosmologie,  449  ff.)  to 
the  phonetic  reading  of  these  signs  have  been  set 
aside  by  the  discovery  of  new  texts  in  which  gan 
receives  a  phonetic  complement,  e.g.  Da-gan-na. 
(Vorderas.  Bill.  i.  [1907]  231),  and,  in  the  Tell 
el-Amarna  letters  (Winckler,  1896,  nos.  215,  216), 
Da-ga-an  (without  the  determinative  for  'god'). 
We  meet  also  Da-gan-ni,  with  a  different  sign  for 
gan  (Jensen,  op.  cit.  449  ;  Jastrow,  Bel.  Bab.  137) ; 
and  in  one  case  Da-gu-na  (Bezold,  Catalogue,  1889- 
99,  iv.  14S2). 

In  Babylonia,  Dagan  first  appears  in  personal 
names  on  the  obelisk  of  Manishtusu  (c.  2400  B.C., 
Meyer),  namely,  Karib  (1)-Dagdn  (A.  v.  8),  Gimil- 
Dagan  (A.  xi.  15),  and  Iti-Dagdn  (C.  xvi.  7).  The 
37th  year  of  Dungi,  king  of  Ur,  took  its  name  from 
the  building  of  the  temple  of  Dagan  ( Vorderas. 
Bibl.  i.  231).  A  king  of  Isin  (2145  B.C.,  Meyer) 
bore  the  name  of  Idin-Dagdn,  and  his  son  was 
IshmS-Dagdn.  In  the  prologue  to  the  Code  of 
Hammurabi  (iv.  27  f.)  the  king  describes  himself 
as  '  warrior  of  Dagan,  his  begetter.'  Dagan  is 
mentioned  in  several  other  early  Bab.  inscriptions 
(Jensen,  op.  cit.  449).  A  seal-cylinder  published 
by  de  Clercq  (Cylindres  orientaux,  1888,  no.  245) 
bears  the  inscription  '  Dagdn-abi,  son  of  Ibni- 
Dagdn,  servant  of  Dagan,'  and  in  the  Ira-myth  he 
is  mentioned  along  with  Anu  (KIB  vi.  [1900]  60, 
line  25). 

In  Assyria  this  god  first  appears  in  the  name  of 
the  king  Ishme-Dagdn  (c.  1900  B.C.).  Itti-Marduk- 
balatu,  an  Assyrian  ruler  whose  date  cannot  be 
determined,  calls  himself  '  the  chosen  of  Anu  and 
Dagdn ' (Winckler,  Unters.,  1889,  p.  139).     Ashur- 


DAGAN,  DAGON 


387 


nasirpal  (885-860  B.C.)  calls  himself  'darling  of 
Aim  and  Dagan  '  (Layard,  PI.  1,  line  1  ;  WAI  xvii. 
10-11).  The  eponym  for  the  year  879  B.C.  was 
named  Dagdn-bSl-ndsir  (KIB  i.  [1889]  204). 
Shamshi-Adad  (825-812  B.C.)  and  Sargon  (722-705 
B.C.)  also  mention  Dagan  in  connexion  with  Anu 
(KIB  i.  175,  ii.  [1890]  39,  41).  Dagan  is  not 
found  in  personal  names  after  the  9th  cent.,  and 
his  worship  seems  to  have  died  out  in  the  later 
days  of  the  Assyrian  empire.  Sargon's  reference 
to  him  is  an  archaism. 

In  tablets  from  the  kingdom  of  Hana,  on  the 
upper  Euphrates  near  Salhijeh,  Dagan  is  mentioned 
in  oaths  along  with  Shamash  (PSBA  xxix.  [1907] 
177  ft'.,  xxxi.  [1910]  292;  Ungnad,  BASS  vi.  [1909] 
5,  p.  28 ;  Vorderas.  Schriftdenkmdler,  vii.  [1909] 
204),  and  in  one  of  these  the  personal  name 
Yashshuh-Dagdn  occurs.  In  a  tablet  from  the 
capital  of  this  kingdom,  Shamshi-Adad,  patesi  of 
Assyria,  styles  himself  'worshipper  of  Dagan, 
builder  of  the  temple  of  Dagan  in  the  city  of  Tirqa ' 
(ZA  xxi.  [1908]  247  ;  OLZ  xi.  [1908]  col.  193).  In 
a  tablet  of  Hana  published  by  Thureau-Dangin 
(J A  xiv.  [1909]  149)  several  priests  of  Dagan  are 
mentioned,  and  the  name  Izra'-Dagdn  occurs.  In 
the  Cappadocian  tablets  also  the  name  Iti-Dagdn 
is  found  (Sayce,  Babyloniaca,  i.  [1907]).  Finally, 
the  Canaanite  writer  of  two  of  the  Tell  el- 
Amarna  letters  bears  the  name  Da-ga-an-takala 
(Winckler,  nos.  215,  216).  It  appears,  accordingly, 
that  the  cult  of  Dagan  extended  all  the  way  from 
Babylonia  to  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean. 

On  the  basis  of  a  derivation  of  Dagan  from  dag, 
'  fish,'  many  writers  have  assumed  that  he  was  a 
fish-god,  and  have  appealed  to  the  legend  narrated 
by  Berossus  (Muller,  FHG  ii.  [1885]  496  ft'.  ; 
Lenormant,  Fragments  cosmogoniqu.es,  1872,  p. 
6  f.  ;  Hrozny,  MVG  viii.  [1903]'  252  ff. ),  that  seven 
beings,  half-fish  and  half-man,  came  out  of  the 
Persian  Gulf  and  taught  the  primitive  inhabitants 
of  Babylonia  the  arts  of  civilization.  The  first  of 
these  was  called  Oannes  ;  the  second,  Annedotos  ; 
and  the  last,  Odakon.  The  last  is  supposed  to  be 
the  same  as  Dagan  ;  and,  on  the  strength  of  this 
identification,  the  numerous  fish-men  depicted  in 
Bab.-Assyr.  art  (Ward,  Seal-Cylinders,  1910,  pp. 
217,  282,  355  f.,  385,  410)  have  been  supposed  to  be 
representations  of  Dagan  (e.g.  Layard,  Nineveh, 
1849,  ii.  353  and  pi.  at  end  of  book ;  Schrader, 
KAT*,  1882,  p.  182;  and  in  Riehm,  HWB\  1874, 
p.  250;  Menant,  RHR  xi.  [1885]  295  ff.  ;  and  most 
of  the  popular  handbooks).  Odakon,  however,  has 
nothing  to  do  with  Dagan,  but  is  the  Sumerian 
fish-god  U-ki-di-a,  or  U-di-a-ki,  who  is  associated 
with  the  fish-god  Han-ni,  the  prototype  of  Oannes 
(Keisner,  Hymn.,  1896,  pp.  91,  137  ;  Hrozny,  M VG 
viii.  [1903]  258).  The  fish-men  in  Bab.  art  represent 
Ea,  the  god  of  the  sea,  and  his  attendants ;  but 
with  these  Dagan  is  never  identified  (Jensen,  op. 
cit.  451 ;  Zimmern,  KAT",  p.  358 ;  Hrozny,  op.  cit. 
261 ;  A.  Jeremias,  Das  AT  im  Lichte  d.  alt.  Orients*, 
p.  470).  On  the  contrary,  Dagan  is  constantly 
equated  with  En-lil,  or  Bel,  the  god  of  the  earth. 
In  the  passages  cited  above  he  is  associated  with 
Anu,  the  sky-god,  in  the  manner  in  which  Bel  is 
ordinarily  associated,  and  in  WAI  (i.  4,  no.  15, 
line  6 ft'.,  iii.  68,  21  cd)  the  identity  of  the  older 
Bel  of  Nippur  with  Dagan  is  asserted  (see  Baal 
in  vol.  ii.  p.  295 ;  Jastrow,  Rel.  Bab.  137,  142,  145, 
219). 

2.  The  Canaanite  Dagdn.— In  the  OT  Dagdn 
appears  as  a  god  of  the  Philistines  who  had  a 
temple  at  Gaza,  and  a  temple  and  image  at  Ashdod 
(Jg  1623\  1  S  52-7,  1  Mac  1063'-  11").  Jerome  in  his 
com.  on  Is  461  (where  some  Gr.  texts  read  '  Dagon ' 
instead  of  'Nebo')  says:  'Dagon  est  idolum 
Ascalonis,  Gazae  et  reliquarum  urbium  Philistim.' 

The  Philistines  were  a  non-Semitic  people  who 


came  from  Caphtor  (prob.  Crete).  They  are  first 
mentioned  as  invading  Palestine  in  the  8th  year  of 
Ramses  III.  (1190  B.C.).  They  seem  not  to  have 
brought  Dagdn  with  them,  but  to  have  adopted 
him  from  the  Canaanites  among  whom  they  settled, 
since  he  is  found  in  place-names  that  are  older 
than  the  time  of  their  conquest  and  that  lie  outside 
of  their  territory.  Bayti-Duquna  appears  in  a  list 
of  the  Egyptian  king  Ramses  III.,  which  is  copied 
from  an  earlier  original  of  the  XVIIIth  or  XLXth 
dynasty  (Muller,  Egypt.  Researches,  1906,  p.  49). 
It  seems  to  be  identical  with  Beth-Dagdn  (Jos  15") 
— which  is  either  the  modern  Beit-Dejan,  6  miles 
S.E.  from  Jaffa,  or  Ddjiln,  1^  miles  farther  S. — and 
with  Bit-Daganna  of  Sennacherib  (Prism-Insc.  ii. 
65  =  .£7.8  ii.  92).  There  was  another  Bcth-Dagdn 
in  Asher  (Jos  1927).  Jerome  knows  a  Kepher- 
Dag6n(OS,  ed.  Lagarde  [21887],  10416,  235")  between 
Diospolis  and  Jamnia.  There  is  also  a  modern 
Beit-Dejan,  S.E.  of  Nablus.  All  these  are  doubtless 
survivals  of  ancient  place-names,  and  indicate  a 
wide  diffusion  of  the  cult  of  Dagdn  in  Canaan 
before  the  Philistine  conquest.  A  borrowing  of 
Dagdn  by  the  Philistines  is  not  surprising,  since 
they  adopted  the  Canaanite' Ashtart  (1  S  3110)  and 
the  Syrian  Atargatis  (see  Atargatis  in  vol.  ii.  p. 
165).  Whether  Marnas  (Aram.  Mama, '  our  Lord '), 
a  deity  of  the  Philistines  at  the  beginning  of  our 
era,  is  the  same  as  Dagdn  is  unknown  (see  Baethgen, 
Beitr.,  1888,  p.  65  f.). 

Dagdn  seems  also  to  have  been  a  god  of  the 
Phoenicians,  either  through  survival  from  primi- 
tive Canaanite  religion,  or  through  adoption  from 
the  Philistines  (cf.  Philo  Byblius  in  Muller,  FHG 
iii.  [1885]  567  f.).  The  Etym.  magn.  says  that 
Betagon  (Beth-Dagdn)  is  Kronos  among  the 
Phoenicians.  Sayce  (Higher  Criticism,,  p.  327) 
reports  a  seal  bearing  in  Phoenician  letters  the 
inscription  '  Ba'al-Dagdn,'  and  the  inscription  of 
Eshmunazar,  king  of  Sidon,  contains  the  words 
pn  nsiN,  which  may  mean  '  land  of  Dagon,'  or 
merely  'corn-land.' 

The  theory  that  Dagdn  is  derived  from  dag, 
'  fish,'  and  that  the  image  of  Dagdn  was  half-man, 
half-fish,  is  not  found  in  old  Jewish  sources  such  as 
the  Targum  and  Talmud,  or  in  Josephus ;  it  first 
appears  in  Jerome,  who  interprets  Dagdn  as 
compounded  of  y\  and  jiK,  and  renders  it  piscis 
tristitim  (OS,  ed.  'Lagarde2,  32';  cf.  18914).  This 
theory  was  adopted  by  Jewish  commentators  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  from  whom  it  has  been  inherited 
by  modern  scholars.  It  is  still  defended  by  Cumont 
(in  Pauly- Wissowa,  RE,  iv.  [1909]),  Baethgen  (Beitr. 
65),  Lagrange  (Rel.  sim.  131),  A.  Jeremias  (op.  cit. 
470).  In  support  of  this  view  it  is  urged  (1)  that 
Dagdn  is  derived  from  xj,  '  fish  ' ;  but  it  may  come 
equally  well  from  jrn,  'corn,'  and  may  be  a  foreign 
word  for  which  no  Heb.  etymology  is  to  be  sought. 
(2)  In  1  S  54,  after  the  account  of  how  Dagdn's 
head  and  hands  were  broken  off,  the  Heb.  text 
reads  v)v,  iki?i  firj  pi,  '  only  Dagon  was  left  upon 
him,'  winch  David  I£imhi  translates  '  only  the  form 
of  a  fish  was  left.'  Wellhausen  (Text  Sam.,  1871, 
p.  59)  reads  \ii  instead  of  fin,  and  translates  '  only 
his  fishy  part  was  left ' ;  but  Lagarde  (Proph.  Chald. , 
1872,  p.  Ii),  with  more  probability,  reads  \\z,  '  his 
body,'  or,  with  the  LXX,  we  may  suppose  that  lj 
has  fallen  out  of  the  text  before  fill.  In  any  case 
this  does  not  prove,  as  l£imhi  says,  that  '  from  his 
navel  down  Dagdn  had  the  form  of  a  fish,  and  from 
his  navel  up  the  form  of  a  man.'  (3)  Deiketo,  or 
Atargatis,  at  Askalon  had  a  fish's  tail  (see  Atar- 
gatis in  vol.  ii.  p.  166),  and  she  was  possibly  the 
consort  of  Dagdn.  But,  even  granting  that  the 
two  were  consorts,  which  is  not  known,  there  is  no 
reason  why  Dagdn  should  have  had  the  same  form 
as  his  spouse.  The  Sumerian  fish-god  Udaki  has 
as  wife  the  corn-goddess  Nisaba  (MVG  viii.  [1903] 


388 


DAIBUTSU 


263),  and  similarly  the  fish-goddess  Atargatis  may 
have  had  as  consort  the  corn-god  Dag6n.  (4) 
Coins  of  Arados  and  of  Askalon  dating  from  about 
350  B.C.  depict  a  triton-like  figure  holding  a  trident 
in  his  right  hand  and  a  fish  in  his  left  (Head,  Hist. 
Num.,  1887,  p.  666  ;  Hoffmann,  ZA  xi.  [1896]  279 f.  ; 
Lagrange,  Eel.  sim.  131).  These  are  supposed  to 
be  DagSn,  but  there  is  no  proof.  They  are  in  pure 
Greek  style,  and  far  more  probably  depict  Neptune. 
Accordingly,  there  is  no  better  evidence  that  Dag6n 
was  a  fish-god  than  there  is  in  the  case  of  Dagan. 
From  the  seal  referred  to  above  we  learn  that  he 
was  one  of  the  bealim,  who  in  Canaan  were  pre- 
dominatingly agricultural  deities  (Hos  27  (B)),  and 
on  this  seal  an  ear  of  corn  is  depicted.  According 
to  1  S  66,  Dag6n  was  discomfited  by  Jahweh's 
sending  mice  which  destroyed  the  crops.  This 
looks  like  an  agricultural  divinity.  Dagon  must 
also  have  been  a  warder-off  of  disease,  since  he  was 
attacked  by  Jahweh's  sending  tumours  upon  the 
Philistines  (1  S  56ff-).  He  was  also  the  leader  of 
his  people  in  war,  who  delivered  their  enemy  into 
their  hand  (Jg  1623'')  and  in  whose  presence  they 
set  the  ark  as  a  trophy  (1  S  52).  He  was  worshipped 
in  joyous  festivals  with  athletic  sports  (Jg  1620). 
The  one  rite  of  his  cult  that  is  known  to  us  is  his 
priests'  avoidance  of  treading  upon  the  threshold 
of  his  sanctuary  (1  S  56,  Zeph  l9). 

3.  The  identity  of  Dagan  and  Dagdn. — This  is 
doubted  by  Jensen  (Kosmol.  449 ft'.)  and  by  Moore 
(EBi  i.  985),  but  is  accepted  by  Schrader,  Baethgen, 
Baudissin,  Sayce,  Bezold,  Zimmern,  Jastrow, 
Hrozny,  and  Lagrange.  It  is  probable  for  the 
following  reasons  : — (1)  The  two  names  are  precise 
etymological  equivalents.  Heb.  6  is  a  modification 
of  an  original  A,  and  is  represented  in  Assyr.  either 
by  A  or  by  u :  e.g.  Amrndn,  Assyr.  AmmAnu ; 
Ashkeldn,  Assyr.  IskaMna.  Hence  Heb.  Dagdn 
is  rightly  reproduced  by  Assyr.  DagAn,  or  Daguna 
(Bezold,  Catalogue,  iv.  1482).  The  occurrence  of 
the  two  forms  shows  that  the  resemblance  is  not 
accidental.  (2)  The  Canaanite  Dagdn-takala  in 
the  Amarna  letters  (Winckler,  215f.)  must  have 
been  a  worshipper  of  Dag6n.  (There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  this  is  the  name  of  a  god,  in  spite  of  the 
lack  of  determinative.)  (3)  The  Heb.  name  BUh- 
Dag6n  appears  in  the  annals  of  Sennacherib  as 
Bit-Daganna.  (4)  The  combination  Ddgdn-Bdal 
on  the  seal  referred  to  above  is  analogous  to  the 
combination  Bel-Dagdn  in  Babylonia.  (5)  The 
statement  of  Philo  Byblius  ( FH G  iii.  567  f. )  that 
Dag6n  was  the  son  of  Ouranos  and  Ge  points  to 
his  identity  with  BSl-Dagan,  the  earth-god  of  the 
Bab.  triad.  (6)  The  character  of  Dag6n,  so  far  as 
we  know  it,  as  a  national  god  of  agriculture  and  of 
war,  corresponds  to  the  character  of  the  Bab. 
Dagan. 

4.  The  origin  of  Dagan- Dagon. — Schrader 
(KAT*,  p.  181  f.),  Delitzsch  (  Wo  lag  das  Parades  ?, 
1881,  p.  139),  Sayce  (Higher  Crit.  p.  325),  on  the 
basis  of  the  association  with  Anu,  regard  Dagan 
as  a  Sumerian  deity  whose  cult  was  adopted  by  the 
Semitic  Babylonians,  and  by  them  passed  on  to 
Mesopotamia  and  Palestine ;  but  his  name  never 
occurs  before  2500  B.C.,  and  then  only  in  the 
inscriptions  of  Semitic  kings.  All  the  personal 
names  compounded  with  Dagan  are  Semitic,  and 
many  of  them  show  the  West  Semitic  type  that  is 
frequent  in  the  period  of  the  dynasty  of  Hammurabi. 
Now  that  it  is  known  that  Babylonia  was  invaded 
by  the  Amorites  about  2500  B.C.,  and  that  the  first 
dynasty  of  Babylon  was  Amorite  (Meyer,  Gesch* 
i.  [1909]  463  ff),  the  theory  has  become  ex- 
ceedingly probable  that  Dagan  was  a  god  of  the 
Amorites,  whose  worship  was  brought  by  them 
from  their  original  home  into  both  Babylonia  and 
Palestine  :  so  Bezold  (ZA  xxi.  [1908]  254),  Meyer 
(op.  cit.  467),  Jastrow(i2e/.  Bab.  220),  Clay(^4»M<7-r», 


p.  147),  Cook  (Eel.  Anc.  Palestine,  1908,  p.  92). 
This  theory  is  favoured  by  the  fact  that  Hammurabi 
in  the  prologue  to  his  Code  (iv.  28)  speaks  as  though 
Dagan  were  the  ancestral  god  of  his  race. 

If  Dagan-Dag8n  was  originally  the  god  of  a 
people  speaking  a  language  similar  to  Hebrew, 
then  the  most  probable  etymology  for  his  name  is 
the  one  given  by  Philo  Byblius  (FHG  iii.  567),  and 
suggested  as  an  alternate  by  Jerome,  that  it  is  the 
same  as  Can. -Heb.  \n,  'corn.'  This  agrees  with 
the  facts  noted  above,  that  both  in  Babylonia  and 
in  Canaan  he  was  a  god  of  the  earth  and  of  agri- 
culture, and  that  on  a  seal  he  is  called  bdal  and 
has  the  emblem  of  an  ear  of  corn  (so  Movers, 
L.  Miiller,  Schroder,  Pietschmann,  Wellhausen). 
Jensen  in  Baudissin  (PEE3  iv.  426)  suggests  a 
derivation  from  Arab,  dagn,  'copious  rain.' 

Literature. — See  the  bibliographies  under  Baal,  Oanaanites  ; 
and,  for  the  older  literature,  Baudissin,  art.  '  Dagon,'  in  PRE* 
iv.  (1898) ;  also  Menant,  '  Le  Mythe  de  Dagon,'  in  RBR  xi. 
(1885)  295  ff.  ;  Jensen,  Kosmologie  der  Babylonier,  1890,  p. 
449ff. ;  Sayce,  Higher  Crit.  and  Man.,  1894,  p.  325  3. ;  Moore, 
art.  'Dagon,'  in  EBi  i.  (1899);  Thenius-Lohr,  Com.  on  Sam., 
1898,  p.  30  ;  H.  P.  Smith,  Com.  on  Sam.,  1899,  p.  38  ;  Cumont, 
art.  '  Dagon,'  in  Pauly-Wissowa,  RE,  1909 ;  Jastrow,  Religion 
Bab.  und  Assyr.  i.  (1905)  219 f.  ;  Hrozny,  'Oannes,  Dagan, 
und  Dagon,'  in  MVG  viii.  (1903)  94-106;  Zimmern,  EAT3, 
1903,  p.  358 ;  Lagrange,  Etudes  sur  les  rel.  simfi,  1905,  p.  131 ; 
A.  Jeremias,  Das  AT  im  Lichte  des  alien  Orients3,  -1906,  p. 
470 ;  Clay,  Amurru,  the  Borne  of  the  Northern  Semites,  1909, 

p- 1«-    "  Lewis  Bayles  Paton. 

DAIBUTSU  ('Great  Buddha ').— The  name 
given  to  several  colossal  images  found  in  Japan. 
These  vary  in  size,  posture,  material,  etc.  ;  some 
indeed  are  not  much  larger  than  the  ordinary  size 
of  the  human  body,  and  scarcely  deserve  the-  title 
of  daibutsu  popularly  assigned  to  them.  Some  of 
them  are  of  wood,  but  the  majority  are  of  bronze  ; 
some  are  in  a  sitting  posture,  others  in  a  standing 
one  ;  recumbent  figures,  such  as  are  seen  in  Ceylon 
or  Burma,  are  never  found  in  Japan.  The  Bud- 
dhas  represented  are  Vairochana,  Amitabha, 
Avalpkitesvara  (Kwannon),  Ksitigarbha  (Jizo), 
and  Sakyamuni,  but  there  are  also  representations 
of  other  Buddhas  and  Bodhisattvas.  For  the  pur- 
poses of  this  article,  three  daibutsu  only  will  be 
considered,  viz.  those  at  Nara,  Kyoto,  and  Kama- 
kura.  These  are  the  daibutsu  that  are  properly 
so  called. 

1.  Daibutsu  at  Nara. — This  was  erected  under 
the  auspices  of  the  Emperor  Shomu  Tenno  (A.D. 
724-748),  the  most  zealous,  perhaps,  of  all  the 
Buddhist  Emperors  of  the  country.  It  is  of 
especial  interest  to  the  student  of  the  religious 
history  of  Japan,  as  being^  connected  with  Shomu's 
audacious  but  successful  plan  of  planting  Bud- 
dhism firmly  on  the  soil  of  Japan  by  proclaiming 
its  essential  identity  with  the  Shintoism  indigen- 
ous to  the  country.  In  this  plan  the  Emperor  was 
ably  assisted  by  a  Korean  priest  of  the  name  of 
Gyogi,1  who  must  be  considered  as  the  true  parent 
of  the  Eyobu,  or  amalgamated  Buddho-Shintoism, 
whieh  continued  in  force  until  the  Meiji  era. 
Gyogi's  plan  was  to  impress  the  native  mind  with 
the  dignity  of  Buddhism  by  the  erection  of  a 
colossal  statue  of  Buddha  set  up  in  a  temple 
architecturally  worthy  to  be  the  religious  centre 
of  the  country,  and  then  to  absorb  into  the  organ- 
ized system  thus  established  the  whole  of  the 
native  cults  which  were  then,  as  now,  bound  up 
with  the  life  and  worship  of  the  nation.  This 
could  not  be  done  without  the  sanction  of  the 
Shinto  priesthood,  and  the  instruments  chosen  to 

1  Gyogi,  the  descendant  of  a  Korean  king,  was  born  in  A.D. 
668  in  Japan,  where  his  family  had  been  domiciled  for  some 
time.  Ordained  to  the  priesthood  at  18,  he  soon  distinguished 
himself  by  his  practical  schemes  for  the  improvement  of  the 
country — road-building,  etc.  He  became  spiritual  adviser  to 
the  Emperor  Shomu  and  his  consort  Komyo,  and  inaugurated 
the  movement  for  the  amalgamation  of  the  two  religions  then 
existing  in  Japan — undoubtedly  with  the  best  of  intentions 
He  died  in  749,  just  before  the  completion  of  the  daibutsu. 


DAIBUTSU 


389 


secure  their  assent  were  Gyogi  himself  and  the 
Udaijin  Tachibana  no  Moroye.  According  to  the 
Daibutsu-engi,  Gyogi  was  sent  to  Ise,  nominally 
for  the  purpose  of  prayer,  but  actually,  it  would 
seem,  to  confer  with  the  authorities  at  the  Ise 
shrines.  A  similar  messenger  was  dispatched  to 
the  Hachiman  shrine  at  Usa  in  Kyushu.  The 
results  of  these  preliminary  meetings  having  been 
found  satisfactory,  a  formal  embassy  was  sent, 
with  Tachibana  no  Moroye  at  its  head,  to  pro- 
pitiate the  Sun-goddess,  and  the  result  was  a 
formal  reply,  conveyed  first  in  a  dream  to  Shomu, 
and  then  in  a  definite  message,  that  the  Great 
Sun-goddess  was  pleased  to  identify  herself  with 
Dainichi  ('  great  sun  ')  Nyorai,  whose  true  essence 
was  the  great  Buddha  Vairochana.  Thus  was  laid 
the  foundation  of  that  great  system  which  taught 
the  Japanese  to  see  in  the  gods  of  Shinto  mani- 
festations of  the  deities  of  Buddhism,  and  enabled 
them  to  become  Buddhists  without  ceasing  to  be 
Shintoists.  This  was  in  743.  The  colossal  image 
was  the  perpetual  memorial  of  the  alliance  thus 
cemented.  The  casting  was  completed  in  749,  the 
inauguration  ceremony  was  held  forthwith,  and 
the  whole  work  was  finished  in  751.  The  statue, 
which  is  in  a  sitting  posture,  is  53  ft.  in  height, 
7  ft.  higher  than  the  similar  image  at  Kamakura. 
It  stands  in  the  Daibutsu  den,  or  '  Hall  of  the 
Daibutsu,'  in  the  Todaiji  Temple  at  Nara,  the 
building  in  which  it  is  enclosed  serving  to  some 
extent  to  conceal  the  magnificence  of  its  pro- 
portions. 

It  was  the  desire  of  the  Emperor  and  Empress 
to  have  Gyogi  perform  the  ceremony  of  inaugura- 
tion. But  he  did  not  live  to  see  the  completion  of 
the  statue.  At  the  New  Year's  festivities  in  A.D. 
749,  Shomu  and  Komyo  had  received  from  Gyogi 
the  vows  of  the  Bodhisattva,  and  had  retired  from 
the  world,  abdicating  in  favour  of  their  daughter 
Koken.  Gyogi,  feeling  the  approach  of  death, 
then  designated  a  fit  person  to  take  his  place — 
an  Indian  monk  of  the  name  of  Bodhisena,  known 
in  Japan  as  Baramon  Sojo,  or  the  Brahman  arch- 
bishop. (Japan  was  at  the  time  feeling  the  effects 
of  the  Muhammadan  upheaval.  Refugees  from 
India,  Persia,  and  Central  Europe,  gathering  at 
the  court  of  the  Tang  in  Singanfu,  had  continued 
their  wanderings  as  far  as  Japan,  and  in  the 
reigns  of  Shomu  and  Koken  we  find  not  only  Bud- 
dhist monks  from  India,  but  Manichreans,  and 
even  a  Nestorian  Christian  doctor,  at  the  court 
of  Nara. ) 

When  the  day  for  the  inauguration  of  the 
statue  came,  Bodhisena  mounted  the  platform 
and  '  opened  its  eyes '  with  a  brush  dipped  in 
water.  The  whole  congregation  had  its  part  in 
the  ceremony,  for  a  long  string,  fastened  to  the 
brush,  passed  among  them  for  those  who  would 
to  take  in  their  hands.  The  congregation  com- 
prised the  ex-Emperor  Shomu  and  his  Empress, 
the  reigning  Empress  Koken,  and  all  the  mag- 
nates of  the  court.  It  was  an  imposing  congre- 
gation in  another  sense,  for,  in  the  parlance  of 
the  day,  Shomu  was  an  incarnation  of  Kwannon  ; 
Ryoben,  who  was  considered  to  be  the  founder  of 
the  temple,  was  looked  upon  as  an  incarnation  of 
Maitreya ;  Gyogi,  of  Mafijusri ;  and  Bodhisena, 
of  Samantabhadra.  The  Buddhist  doctrines  that 
were  at  that  time  uppermost  in  the  mind  of  Japan 
were  those  known  as  Kegon,  contained  in  the 
mystic  Scriptures  of  the  Avatamsaka. 

The  Nara  daibutsu  has  experienced  many  vicissi- 
tudes. In  855  its  head  fell  off  and  was  with  diffi- 
culty restored  to  its  position  ;  in  1180,  during  the 
civil  wars,  the  temple  was  burned,  and  the  head 
melted.  The  image  remained  headless  until  1 195, 
when  it  was  restored,  through  the  efforts  mainly 
of  Jugen,  a  disciple  of  Honen,  who  had  been  in 


China,  and  who  travelled  through  Japan  on  a 
wheelbarrow  collecting  money.  In  1567,  the 
temple  was  burnt,  but  the  daibutsu  remained 
uninjured.  Time,  however,  has  necessitated  many 
repairs  from  generation  to  generation.  Very 
little,  probably,  of  the  original  material  now  re- 
mains, yet  the  daibutsu  has  retained  its  identity 
throughout  all  its  changes. 

2.  Daibutsu  at  Kyoto. — We  have  seen  that  the 
temple  enclosing  the  daibutsu  at  Nara  was  burnt 
during  the  civil  troubles  in  1567.  The  temple 
remained  in  a  ruinous  condition  for  many  years, 
and  this  suggested  to  Hideyoshi,  who  became 
Kwampaku  in  1585,  the  idea  of  reconstructing 
it  on  some  other  site,  and  of  placing  in  it  a 
colossal  image  which  should  be  more  magnificent 
even  than  the  one  at  Nara,  and  which  should  also 
be  a  perpetual  memorial  of  himself.  In  1586  he 
selected  a  site  on  the  Amida-zaka  at  Kyoto,  and 
commenced  the  erection  of  his  temple.  It  did  not 
seem  as  though  Heaven  were  propitious  to  his 
designs.  The  first  temple,  built  of  wood  brought 
from  the  districts  of  Tosa,  Kii,  and  Kiso,  and  con- 
taining a  wooden  daibutsu  (of  Lochana-Buddha), 
160  ft.  in  height,  was  destroyed  by  an  earthquake 
in  1596.  Nothing  daunted,  Hideyoshi  set  to  work 
again  on  a  more  substantial  structure.  On  Jan. 
15,  1603,  the  casting  of  the  bronze  daibutsu  having 
been  completed  up  to  the  neck,  the  building  and 
scaffolding  caught  fire  and  were  destroyed,  and, 
Hideyoshi  being  by  this  time  dead,  no  immediate 
attempt  was  made  to  repair  the  disaster. 

A  year  or  two  later,  however,  Tokugawa  Iyeyasu, 
being  anxious  to  reduce  the  family  of  Hideyoshi 
to  impotence,  suggested  to  Hideyori  that  the 
completion  of  the  daibutsu  and  temple  would 
form  a  very  fitting  tribute  to  the  memory  of  his 
great  father.  Hideyori  and  his  mother  fell  into 
the  trap,  and  ruined  themselves  financially  with 
the  carrying  out  of  Hideyoshi's  magnificent  but 
extravagant  design.  Hideyoshi's  structure  was 
150  ft.  in  height,  272  ft.  in  length,  167^  ft.  in 
depth.  The  roof  was  supported  by  92  pillars, 
with  an  average  diameter  of  5  ft.,  and  the  sitting 
figure  of  Lochana-Buddha  was  58J  ft.  in  height. 
When  the  whole  was  finished,  Iyeyasu  picked  a 
quarrel  with  Hideyori  over  an  insult,  real  or  pre- 
tended, supposed  to  be  conveyed  to  him  in  the 
inscriptions  on  the  bells.  The  dedication  cere- 
monies were  postponed,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
Iyeyasu  took  up  arms  against  the  family  of  Hide- 
yoshi and  crushed  it  for  ever. 

Hideyori's  daibutsu  was  destroyed  by  earthquake 
in  1662,  and  the  copper  used  for  coinage.  No 
interest  attaches  to  its  successors.  The  present 
Kyoto  daibutsu  dates  from  1801. 

3.  Daibutsu  at  Kamakura. — This  image,  though 
smaller  than  the  one  at  Nara,  is  much  better 
known.  It  stands  in  the  open,  amidst  beautiful 
surroundings,  and  is  constantly  being  photo- 
graphed. No  illustrated  description  of  Japan 
would  be  complete  without  it.  It  is  an  image  of 
Amida,  49  ft.  7  in.  in  height,  and  may  be  taken 
as  marking  an  era  in  Japanese  Buddhism.  The 
daibutsu  at  Kyoto  had  no  real  spiritual  significa- 
tion :  it  was  erected  by  men  devoid  of  religious 
faith,  for  purposes  of  self-glorification.  That  at 
Nara  symbolizes  that  union  of  Buddhism  and 
Shintoism  which  was  made  possible  by  an  accept- 
ance of  the  peculiar  tenets  of  the  Kegon  school, 
with  Vairochana  as  its  chief  Buddha.  The  Kama- 
kura daibutsu  is  an  image  of  Amida,  and  marks 
the  period  when  Vairochana  was  going  out  of 
fashion,  and  Amitabha,  with  the  sects  devoted  to 
his  worship,  was  coming  to  the  front. 

It  is  said  that  the  idea  of  having  a  daibutsu  at 
Kamakura  first  occurred  to  Minamoto  Yoritomo 
in  A.D.  1195,  when  he  was  assisting  at  the  cere- 


390 


DAITYA 


monies  of  the  re-dedication  of  the  Nara  image 
after  its  restoration.  Yoritomo,  dying  in  1195, 
did  not  live  to  see  the  completion  of  his  design. 
It  was  not,  however,  suffered  to  fall  to  the  ground, 
Ita  no  Tsubone,  one  of  the  ladies  of  Yoritomo's 
court,  undertaking  to  collect  funds  for  the  pur- 
pose. Ita  no  Tsubone's  efforts  were  supplemented 
by  a  priest  named  Joko,  who  was  also  active  in 
collecting  contributions.  A  wooden  image  was 
erected  in  1241,  the  bronze  one  in  1252.  The  first 
was  dedicated  to  Amida,  the  second  apparently 
to  Sakyamuni.  But  the  present  image,  represent- 
ing Amida,  is  said  to  be  the  very  image  erected  in 
1252,  in  which  case  we  have  an  image  with  a 
double  dedication — to  Sakyamuni  and  to  Amida. 
This,  however,  presents  no  difficulty.  Mi  son 
ichi  ('two  blessed  ones  with  one  personality') 
is  a  common  doctrine  of  the  Jodo  sects,  Saky- 
amuni and  Amitabha  being  looked  upon  as  identi- 
cal in  essence  whilst  distinct  in  personality  and 
name.  Like  the  daibutsu  at  Nara,  this  image 
was  originally  enclosed  within  a  temple.  But  the 
temple  was  destroyed  by  tidal  waves  in  the  year 
1369  and  again  in  the  year  1494,  and  no  attempt 
has  been  made  since  the  last  catastrophe  to  rebuild 
it.  Strange  to  say,  the  metal  does  not  seem  to 
have  suffered  at  all  from  the  inclemencies  of  the 
weather.  A.  Lloyd. 

DAITYA. — The  word  daitya,  the  formation  of 
which  is  explained  by  Panini  (iv.  1,  85),  etymo- 
logically  means  'descendant  of  Diti,'  just  like 
Daiteya  and  Ditija  ;  it  occurs  in  classical  Sanskrit 
literature  from  the  Epics  downwards,  and  is  there 
synonymous  with  Asura  and  Danava,  which  are 
already  found  in  Vedic  literature.  This  article 
must,  therefore,  treat  of  all  three — Asuras,  Dana- 
vas,  and  Daityas — as  denoting  one  kind  of  demons 
or  enemies  of  the  gods. 

The  word  asura  originally  had  not  an  altogether 
evil  meaning,  and  it  is  still  used  in  the  Kigveda  as 
an  epithet  of  the  higher  gods,  especially  of  Varuna ; 1 
but  even  there  it  has  in  other  places  the  meaning 
'inimical  to  the  gods.'  In  the  Brahmanas  and 
Upanisads  the  latter  meaning  is  exclusively  given 
to  the  word  asura,  which  is  there  the  common 
name  of  demons  as  enemies  of  the  gods.  Both  the 
Asuras  and  the  gods  are  descendants  of  Prajapati. 
According  to  the  Satapatha  Brahmana,  the  Asuras 
were  created  from  the  downward  breathing  of 
Prajapati,  and  entered  the  earth  ; 2  they  had  dark- 
ness and  magic  (maya)  assigned  to  them  by  him,8 
and  held  to  untruth.4  Originally  they  had  divided 
the  world  with  the  gods,5  and  once  built  three 
strongholds,  one  in  each  world.  But  they  con- 
tinually contended  against  the  gods,  and,  though 
they  were  more  numerous  or  more  powerful  than 
the  latter,6  they  were  in  the  end  always  defeated 
by  them.  Frequently  they  were  put  to  flight  by 
Indra,  with  or  without  the  assistance  of  Brhaspati. 
Thus  at  last  they  were  driven  from  the  earth  and 
the  regions  above.7 

From  these  statements  it  appears  that  the  authors 
of  the  Brahmanas  and  Upanisads  regarded  the 
Asuras  as  the  pre-eminently  evil  ones  ;  once8  it  is 
even  said  that  their  alleged  battles  with  the  gods 
are  fictitious,  and  that  they  became  degraded 
through  their  own  wickedness.  It  is,  however,  to 
be  noted  that  they  are  enemies  only  of  gods,  not 
of  men ;  some  peoples  (the  Easterns  and  others) 
are  even  said  to  be  of  A  sura-nature,  and  it  is  added 
that  they  make  their  burial-places  round  and  line 

1  Amrya  (adj.  and  subst.)  in  the  Rigveda  refers  to  gods,  and 
Dot  to  demons. 

2  xi.  1.  6,  S.  3  n.  4.  2,  6. 
4  ix.  5.  1,  12  ff.                              6  J.  2.  6,  1  fl. 

6  Brhad  AraQ.yaka,  i.  3.  1. 

7  Satapatha  Brdlatiana,  xiii.  8.  1.  o. 
'  lb.  x.i.  1.  6,  a 


them  with  stones.1  This  seems  to  imply  that  some 
peoples  were  supposed  to  worship  Asuras.- 

As  regards  the  second  synonym  of  Daitya,  men- 
tioned above,  viz.  Danava,  we  find  this  word,  as 
well  as  danu,  from  which  it  is  derived,  used  in  the 
Kigveda  very  much  in  the  same  sense  as  the  later 
asura.  A  female  danu  is  mentioned  (I.  xxxii.  9)  as 
the  mother  of  Vrtra  (vrtraputra).  She  came  in  later 
times  to  be  regarded  as  the  mother  of  the  Danavas  ; 
for  danava  might  be  taken  as  a  metronymic  from 
danu,  and  mythologists,  of  course,  gladly  availed 
themselves  of  this  etymology  in  drawing  up  their 
legendary  genealogies.  The  Daityas  are  derived 
from  Diti,  as  the  Danavas  from  Danu ;  but  there 
is  this  difference,  that  danava  was  an  ancient  name 
for  demons  which  gave  rise  to  a  myth  of  their 
descent,  while  daitya  is  a  name  derived,  after  the 
Vedic  period,  from  a  somewhat  ill-defined  and  evi- 
dently not  popular  deity,  Diti.  She  is  mentioned 
thrice  in  the  Rigveda  *  and  several  times  in  the 
Atharvaveda,  almost  always  in  conjunction  with 
the  well-known  great  goddess  Aditi,  apparently  as 
her  sister,  to  whom  she  may  be  said  to  owe  her 
existence,  through  a  popular  etymology  which  re- 
garded aditi  as  formed  by  a  privative  and  diti,  just 
as  asura  was  derived  from  sura.  Diti,  a  product 
of  priestly  speculation,  would  scarcely  have  given 
rise  to  the  popular  name  Daitya ;  but  the_latter 
was  apparently  formed  as  a  'pendant 'of  Aditya 
—a  name  which  already  in  the  Kigveda  denoted  a 
class  of  deities  including  some  of  the  highest  gods, 
and  at  the  same  time  had  been  regarded  as  a  metro- 
nymic from  Aditi.  So,  to  match  it,  the  foes  of  the 
Adityas — the  Asuras  —  were  named,  by  another 
metronymic,  Daitya,  after  Diti,  though  this  god- 
dess had  scarcely  any  hold  on  the  imagination  of 
the  people. 

The  only  myth  related  of  Diti  in  the  Ramayana 
(i.  46)  and  the  Puranas  4  betrays  a  similar  tendency. 
It  is  to  the  following  effect : 

In  the  battle  between  the  gods  and  the  Daityas,  which  ensued 
on  the  churning  of  the  ocean,  the  latter  were  worsted  and  slain. 
Diti  then  performed  austerities,  and  asked  Kasyapa  for  a  boon, 
viz.  that  she  might  give  birth  to  a  son  who  should  vanquish 
Indra.  Kasyapa  granted  the  boon  on  condition  that  she  should 
remain  entirely  pure  for  a  thousand  years.  During  her  preg- 
nancy Indra  watched  her  closely,  and  at  last  found  her  in  an 
impure  position.  Thereupon  he  entered  her  womb,  and  divided 
the  embryo  into  seven  parts,  which  became  the  seven  lords  of 
the  Maruts,  or  winds. 

The  present  writer  is  of  opinion  that  this  myth 
was  invented  in  order  to  explain  that  the  Daityas 
are  the  elder  brothers  of  the  gods.  For  marut 
is  also  used,  at  least  in  classical  Sanskrit,  as  a 
synonym  of  deva,  'god.'  The  motive  of  the  myth 
lies,  obviously,  in  an  etymology  which  derives 
diti  from  the  root  da,  '  to  cut. ' B  The  myth  itself 
is  evidently  not  an  old  one,  for  it  rests  on  the 
assumption  that  the  Daityas  are  the  children  of 
Diti,  and  that  they  were  killed  in  battle  by  the 
gods. 

In  epic  and  classical  Sanskrit  literature,  where 
Asura,  Danava,  and  Daitya  are  interchangeable 
terms,  these  beings  continue  to  be  regarded  as 
rivals,  and,  occasionally,  as  deadly  foes,  of  the 
gods ;  but  the  attitude  of  the  writers  has  decidedly 
changed  since  the  composition  of  the  Brahmanas. 
Thus,  the  great  epic  contains  several  stories  in 
which  the  Asuras — Vrtra,  Bali,  Sambara,  Namuchi, 
and  others — are  spoken  of  as  virtuous  and  wise ; 

1  Satapatha  Brdkmaria,  xiii.  8.  1.  5,  xiii.  8.  2.  1. 

2  It  may  be  remarked,  as  illustrative  of  the  godless  character 
of  the  Asuras,  that  the  secondary  word  sura,  '  god,'  was  formed 
from  asura,  the  latter  being  wrongly  understood  to  be  a-sura, 
'non-god.' 

3  According  to  Bdhtlingk-Roth  (Skr.  Wbrterb.,  St.  Petersb., 
1876,  s.v.  '  Diti '),  the  Diti  of  the  Rigveda  is  different  from  the 
Diti  of  the  Atharvaveda. 

4  Cf.  Wilson,  Visiya  Pxirana,  ii.  79,  note  1. 

8  It  may  be  mentioned  that  the  Mahabharata  (ix.  38.  32  if.) 
contains  an  entirely  different  account  of  the  origin  of  the 
Maruts  ;  they  were  formed  from  the_  vital  seed  of  the  vsi  Mau- 
kauaka  falling  into  the  river  Sarasvati: 


DAITYA 


391 


and  some  Asuras  are  acknowledged  by  gods  as  their 
friends  and  proteges,  e.g.  Prahrada  by  Visnu,  and 
Bana  by  Siva.  Moreover,  they  were  not  believed 
to  lead  a  life  of  wickedness,  but  to  conform  to  the 
precepts  of  the  Veda.  They  had  a  teacher  and 
priest  of  their  own,  a  purohita,  in  the  person  of 
S\ikra,  otherwise  called  Kavya  Usanas,  a  descend- 
ant of  the  great  fsi  Bhrgu.1 

Finally,  the  abode  of  the  Asuras,  Patala,  is 
described  not  as  a  dwelling-place  of  demons,  but 
as  equalling,  and  even  surpassing,  the  heavenly 
regions  in  beauty  and  splendour.  In  popular  litera- 
ture, also,  the  Asuras  seem  to  have  been  looked 
upon  with  a  decided  sympathy,  for  bk.  viii.  of 
the  Kathasaritsagara  contains  the  story  of  Siirya- 
prabha,  apparently  the  subject  of  a  romantic  epic, 
the  hero  of  which  is  an  Asura  who  is  held  up  to 
our  admiration.  People  seem  to  have  cherished  a 
similar  feeling  towards  the  Asuras  as  towards  the 
Nagas,  who  snared  the  Patala  regions  with  them. 
On  the  other  hand,  whenever  the  contention  of  the 
Asuras  with  the  gods  becomes  the  subject  of  the 
writers,  they  are  at  one  with  the  Vedic  authors, 
and  describe  the  Daityas  as  demons  given  to  deeds 
of  violence,  skilled  in  sorcery  and  magic  power,  and 
able  to  make  themselves  invisible  or  to  assume  any 
shape  at  will.2 

The  MahabMrata  and  the  Puranas  contain  ac- 
counts of  the  origin  and  genealogy  of  the  Asuras, 
which,  however,  differ  considerably  in  details. 
Marichi,  one  of  the  six  mental  sons  of  Brahma, 
produced  by  his  will  a  son,  Kasyapa,  a  prajapati,  or 
secondary  creator.  He  married  thirteen  daughters 
(putrilcas)  of  Daksa,  who  was  also  a,prajdpati.  The 
first  place  in  the  list  of  these  thirteen  daughters  of 
Daksa  is  always  given  to  Aditi,  and  the  second  to 
Diti ;  but  the  latter  was  the  eldest,  as  is  expressly 
stated  in  Mahclb.  xii.  207,  20.  Diti  had  but  one 
son,  Hiranyakasipu,  the  ruler  of  the  Asuras.  He 
had  five  sons,  Prahrada,  etc.  ;  Prahrada  had  three 
sons,  Virochana,  etc.  ;  Virochana's  son  was  Bali, 
whose  son  was  Bana.  These  Asuras  and  their 
progeny3  are,  properly  speaking,  the  Daityas  ;  but 
popular  usage  takes  no  account  of  this  genealogy, 
and  regards  all  enemies  of  the  gods  as  sons  of  Diti. 
By  Danu,  another  daughter  of  Daksa,  Kasyapa 
had  33  or  40  sons,  among  whom  are  enumerated  the 
most  famous  Asuras.  The  sons  and  grandsons  of 
these  are  said  to  be  countless  ;  they  are  the  Danavas 
proper,  but  the  above  remark  about  the  Daityas 
applies  also  to  them.  Kasyapa' s  son  by  the  fourth 
daughter  of  Daksa,  Simhika,  is  the  famous  Asura 
Rahu,  whose  head  was  cut  off  by  Visnu,  and  who 
ever  since  persecutes  sun  and  moon,  and  occasion- 
ally swallows  them  (mythological  cause  of  eclipses). 
Danayus,  the  fifth  wife  of  Kasyapa,  became  the 
mother  of  Bala  and  Vrtra,  the  Asuras  who  were 
killed  by  Indra ;  and  Kala,  the  sixth  wife  of  Kas- 
yapa, gave  birth  to  the  Kalakeyas,  a  class  of 
Asuras.  Accordingly,  •  the  Mahabharata  (i.  65) 
derives  the  whole  race  of  Asuras  from  five  daugh- 
ters of  Daksa. 

According  to  the  Visnu  Puranaf  Simhika  was 
the  sister  of  Hiranyakasipu,  and  wife  of  Vipra- 
chitti,  a  son  of  Danu,  and,  as  the  same  source  does 
not  mention  the  above-named  wives  of  Kasyapa, 
or  at  least  does  not  make  them  the  ancestresses  of 
separate  Asura  families,  there  are  practically  only 
two  races  of  Asuras  acknowledged  by  the  Puranas, 
viz.  Daityas  and  Danavas.     There  are  variations 

1  It  may  be  mentioned  in  this  connexion  that  Indra,  by  killing 
V|-tra,  incurred  the  sin  of  brahmahatyd,  or  murder  of  a 
Brahman,  and  in  consequence  lost  his  celestial  kingdom 
(Mahdbhdrata,  iii.  101,  v.  10,  xii.  281,  342).  Still,  Vrtra  is  but 
an  Asura  and  an  enemy  of  the  gods. 

2  Cf.  V.  Fausbdll,  Indian  Mythology,  according  to  the  Maha- 
bharata, London,  1903,  p.  3  IT. 

8  Not  enumerated  in  the  Visnu  Purdna,  but  in  some  others, 
e.g.  Vdyu  Purana  (Bibl.  2nd.),  ii.  74  f. 
4  See  Wilson,  op  cit.  ii.  00. 


in  other  Puranas  which  need  net  be  detailed 
here. ' 

The  Puranas,  however,  have  another  account  of 
the  origin  of  the  Asuras  at  the  first  creation  of  the 
world  : 2 

'  Brahma,  being  desirous  of  creating  the  four  orders  of  beings 
termed  gods,  demons,  progenitors,  and  men,  collected  his  mind 
into  itself.  Whilst  thus  concentrated,  the  quality  of  darkness 
pervaded  his  body,  and  thence  the  Asuras  were  first  born, 
issuing  from  his  thigh.  Brahma  then  abandoned  that  form 
which  was  composed  of  the  rudiment  of  darkness,  and  which, 
being  deserted  by  him,  became  night.' 

Wilson  says  in  a  note :  '  These  reiterated,  and  not  always 
very  congruous,  accounts  of  the  creation  are  explained  by  the 
Puranas  as  referring  to  different  kalpas,  or  renovations  of  the 
world,  and  therefore  involving  no  incompatibility.  A  better 
reason  for  their  appearance  is  the  probability  that  they  have 
been  borrowed  from  different  original  authorities.' 

As  regards  the  origin  of  the  Asuras,  it  is  probable 
that  the  myth  quoted  above  has  been  developed 
from  the  statement  in  the  Brahmanas  mentioned 
at  the  beginning  of  this  article.  The  genealogy  of 
the  Asuras  is  of  later  growth,  and  introduces  a  new 
element  of  confusion  into  the  accounts  of  them. 
How,  for  instance,  could  Hiranyakasipu,  the  first- 
born of  all  Daityas  and  Danavas,  rule  over  the 
whole  race  of  Daityas  and  Danavas,  who,  according 
to  the  Pauranic  theory,  sprang  from  his  children 
and  grandchildren  ? 

It  has  been  said  above  that  the  Asuras  reside  in 
Patala,  and  the  Satapatha  Brahmana  already 
states  that  they  entered  the  earth.  Yet  they  are 
not  restricted  to  Patala,  but  may  own  towns  and 
fortresses  on  earth,  in  air,  and  in  heaven.  Thus 
the  three  sons  of  Taraka  possessed  three  towns, 
which,  united  into  one,  became  the  famous  Tripura, 
which  Siva  reduced  to  ashes  with  his  mystical 
arrow.  The  Paulomas  and  Kalakanjas  inhabited 
the  flying  town  Hiranyapura,  which  was  destroyed 
by  Arjuna  (Mahab.  viii.  33 f.,  iii.  173).  Another 
tribe  of  the  Danavas,  the  Nivatakavachas,  live  on 
the  shore  of  the  ocean,  where  Arjuna  vanquishes 
them  (ib.  iii.  168  ff.).  In  most  stories  about  Asuras, 
the  scene  is  laid  in  the  upper  regions,  where  they 
acquire  power  even  over  the  three  worlds,  till  some 
god  slays  them. 

The  belief  that  the  Asuras  dwell  in  the  regions 
below  has  been  common  to  all  Indian  sects.  Thus, 
according  to  the  Northern  Buddhists,  the  world  of 
the  Asuras,  who,  besides  the  Daityas,  comprise 
the  Raksasas,  Yaksas,  and  similar  demons,  is  the 
uppermost  of  the  four  Apayalokas,  or  worlds  of 
suffering ;  and  it  is  situated  exactly  as  far  below  the 
surface  of  the  earth  as  the  world  of  Indra  is  above 
it.  Among  the  Asuras  the  foremost  rank  is  held 
by  Rahu,  the  demon  who  causes  eclipses  of  the  sun 
and  moon.3  The  Jains  reckon  the  Asuras,  or,  as 
they  call  them,  the  Asurakumaras,  as  the  lowest 
class  of  the  Bhavanavasin  or  Bhaumeyaka  gods,  and 
assign  them  the  uppermost  part  of  Batnaprabhd, 
the  highest  hell-region,  as  their  residence.4 

A  great  many  names  of  Asuras  are  given  in  epic 
and  classical  Sanskrit  literature,  some  of  which 
have  already  been  mentioned.  We  add  the  names 
of  a  few  more  who  are  frequently  mentioned  in 
connexion  with  the  god  who  slew  or  overcame 
them  :  Bala,  Vrtra,  Namuchi,  Trisiras,  Jambha, 
and  Paka  were  slain  by  Indra  ;  Madhu,  Kaitabha, 
Bali,  Mura,  and  Naraka  by  Visnu  (who  is  thence 
called  Daityari,  foe  of  the  Daityas)  or  Krsna ; 
Pralamba  by  Balarama  ;  Sambara  by  Pradyumna  ; 
Andhaka  by  Siva,  who  also  destroyed  Tripura ; 
Kumbha,  Nisumbha,  and  Mahisa  by  Devi ;  Taraka 
and  Bana  by  Karttikeya ;  and  Ilvala  and  Vatapi 
by  Agastya. 

1  Wilson,  op.  cit.,  in  his  notes  to  pp.  26,  69  ff.  It  may  be 
mentioned  that  the  Vayu  Purdna  gives  the  progeny  of  Dana- 
yusa  (ii.  7,  30  ff.). 

2  Wilson,  op.  cit.  i.  97  f . 

8  Kern,  Manual  of  Indian  Buddhism  (GIAP  iii.  8),  1896  ;  and 
the  works  quoted  there,  p.  57,  n.  7. 
4  Tnttpnrthadhiaa-ma  Sutra,  iv.  11,  tr.  in  ZDMG  lx.  319. 


392 


DANAIDS 


The  Asuras  (Daityas,  Danavas)  constitute  the 
highest  class  of  demons ;  they  are  the  enemies  of 
the  gods,  and  not  of  mankind  ;  indeed,  men  seem, 
as  a  rule,  excluded  from  their  sphere  of  action. 
This  is  the  principal  point  in  which  they  differ  from 
the  remaining  classes  of  demons,  such  as  Kaksasas, 
Yaksas,  Nagas,  etc.,  who  sustain  hostile  or  friendly 
relations  with  men.    See  art.  Beahmanism. 

In  conclusion,  an  opinion  must  be  noticed  which 
has  been  put  forward  by  some  writers — most 
recently  by  the  Danish  scholar  V.  Fausbbll 1 — 
viz.  that  the  wars  of  the  Suras  and  Asuras  are 
but  a  mythological  account  of  what  originally  was 
a  strife  between  the  Aryans  and  the  aboriginal 
inhabitants  of  India.  Fausbbll  includes  among 
the  Asuras  other  classes  of  demons,  Raksasas, 
Yaksas,  Nagas,  etc. — a  course  which,  as  has  just 
been  pointed  out,  cannot  be  admitted.  As  regards 
the  Asuras  proper,  with  whom  alone  we  are 
concerned  in  this  article,  his  theory  is  without 
foundation,  and  is  quite  unnecessary.  The  Indians 
had  at  least  two  war-gods — Indra,  and,  in  later 
times,  Karttikeya.  Warlike  gods  presuppose,  in 
India  as  elsewhere,  enemies  with  whom  to  wage 
war,  and  those  enemies  were  the  Asuras,  Danavas, 
or  Daityas. 

Literature. — This  has  been  sufficiently  indicated  in  the  course 
of  the  article.  HERMANN  JACOBI. 

DAKHMA. — See  Death  and  Disposal  of 
the  Dead  (Parsi). 

DANAIDS.— The  Danaids  (AavatSes)  were  the 
daughters  of  Danaus.  Their  number  is  variously 
given :  Hecatseus  (schol.  on  Eurip.  Orest.  872) 
enumerates  twenty,  and  Hesiod  [ap.  Hecatseus, 
loc.  cit.)  fifty  ;  the  latter  figure  has  won  general 
acceptance.  Their  fame  is  enshrined  in  two  legends 
— the  one  telling  how  they  murdered  their  bride- 
grooms during  their  wedding  night ;  the  other 
how,  after  death,  they  were  condemned  to  pour 
water  into  vessels  full  of  holes. 

I.  The  standard  form  of  the  first  legend  is  that 
given  to  it  by  iEschylus  ;  it  forms  the  basis  of  the 
story  as  found  in  the  Bibliotheca  of  Apollodorus, 
ii.  12  ff.  (cf.  schol.  on  Homer,  H.  i.  42),  and 
Hyginus's  Fabulw,  168  (cf.  schol.  on  Stat.  T/ieb. 
ii.  222  ;  schol.  Strozz.  on  German.  Aratea,  p.  172, 
ed.  Breysig).  We  find  part  of  it  in  the  extant 
'  Ik4ti8cs  of  iEschylus — the  first  portion  of  his  Danaid- 
tetralogy — and  the  entire  myth  in  the  prophecy  of 
Prometheus  in  Prom.  Vinct.  853  ff.  The  story  is 
as  follows.  The  fifty  Danaids  flee,  under  their 
father's  direction,  from  Egypt  to  Argos,  in  order 
to  escape  from  the  unwelcome  suit  of  their  cousins, 
the  fifty  sons  of  jEgyptus.  The  youths,  however, 
set  out  after  them,  and,  by  mere  superiority  of 
force,  compel  the  maidens  to  marry  them.  Danaus, 
however,  commands  his  daughters  to  kill  their  re- 
spective husbands,  and  all  of  them  obey  save  one, 
Hypermnestra,  who  spares  Lynkeus  out  of  love. 
Hypermnestra,  saved  from  her  father's  vengeance, 
and  at  length  reconciled  to  him,  continues  the  line- 
age of  the  family,  and  by  inheritance  secures  for  her 
acknowledged  husband  the  over-lordship  of  Argos. 

The  scene  of  the  myth  is  thus  Argos,  and,  indeed, 
the  mere  name  of  the  father  and  his  daughters 
indicates  this  locality,  as  in  Homer  the  Argives  are 
most  frequently  referred  to  as  Aavaol.  Since  the 
publication  of  Preller's  Griechische  Mythologie  (cf. 
ii.3  [Berlin,  1861]  45  tf.)  the  myth  has  been  com- 
monly interpreted  as  relating  to  the  scarcity  of 
water  in  '  thirsty  Argos ' ;  the  slaying  of  the  bride- 
grooms is  taken  to  mean  the  drying  up  of  the 
springs.  This  hypothesis  is  still  adhered  to  by 
Ed.  Meyer  (Forschv.ngen  zur  alten  Gesch.  i.  [Halle, 
1892]  74)  and  Waser  (in  Pauly-Wissowa,  iv.  2089), 

1  Op.  cit.  p.  41  f. 


but  its  lack  of  evidence  is  on  a  level  with  its  failure 
in  lucidity  (cf.  P.  Friedlander,  Argolica,  Berlin, 
1905,  p.  24).  It  is  certainly  true  that  the  full, 
though  not  identical,  lists  of  the  Danaids  given  by 
Apollodorus,  ii.  16,  and  Hyginus,  Fab.  170,  contain 
at  least  one  name,  Amymone,  which  is  also  the 
name  of  a  fountain  in  Argos  ;  and,  while  there  may 
be  another  here  and  there  which  could  be  appositely 
applied  to  a  spring,  this  cannot  be  said  of  the 
majority.  Amymone,  moreover,  is  the  subject  of  a 
special  myth,  which  bears  no  resemblance  to  that 
of  the  others :  she  yields  herself  to  Poseidon,  who 
in  return  reveals  to  her  the  springs  of  Lerna  ;  and 
she  bears  to  him  a  son  named  Nauplius  (Apollod. 
ii.  14  and  23 ;  Hygin.  Fab.  169).  The  purport  of 
this  story  is,  in  fact,  the  direct  opposite  of  the 
Danaid  myth  ;  the  latter  really  implies  that  the 
maidens,  in  order  to  preserve  their  virginity,  do  not 
shrink  from  slaying  even  their  bridegrooms.  It  is 
true  that  this  aspect  is  not  made  explicit  in  the 
story  as  related  by  jEschylus,  who  lays  stress  on 
the  Danaids'  hatred  of  the  jEgyptiads  only,  not  of 
men  in  general,  and  speaks  of  their  timidity  of 
character.  His  reason  for  making  this  alteration 
is  revealed  in  the  only  passage  of  any  length  that 
now  remains  of  the  third  portion  of  his  Danaid- 
tetralogy  (fr.  44),  in  which  Aphrodite  extols  the 
might  of  love,  and  so  vindicates  Hypermnestra  and 
her  disobedience  to  her  father's  cruel  command. 
The  ^Eschylean  rendering,  however,  is  really  a 
transformation  of  the  original  myth,  as  appears 
from  the  following  considerations.  (1)  The  slaying 
of  men  by  the  Danaids  has  always  formed  the  kernel 
of  the  myth.  (2)  Their  fruitless  labour  of  water- 
drawing  after  death,  as  will  be  shown  below  (§  2), 
is  an  indication  of  the  fact  that  they  were  never 
married.  (3)  The  only  extant  fragment  of  the  epic 
Aa.va.l5es  represents  them  as  beings  of  Amazon-like 
nature.  From  this  epic,  which,  according  to  the 
Borgia  tablet  (Jahn-Michaelis,  Griech.  Bilder- 
chroniken,  Bonn,  1873,  p.  76,  K2),  contained  6500 
lines,  or  about  half  the  number  in  the  Iliad, 
Clement  of  Alexandria  (Strom,  iv.  120-124),  when 
giving  examples  of  brave  women,  cites  the  cases 
not  only  of  Leaina  and  Telesilla,  but  also  of 
the  Danaids,  and  in  support  thereof  quotes  from 
the  epic  as  follows :  '  And  then  the  daughters  of 
Danaus  armed  themselves  quickly  by  the  wide- 
flowing  stream  of  the  lord  Nile.'  We  may,  there- 
fore, infer  that  the  characterization  of  the  Danaids 
in  this  epic  was  quite  unlike  that  given  by  Ms- 
chylus.  Amazons  have  no  occasion  for  a  father's 
care,  or  for  an  admonition  to  guard  their  virginity  ; 
and,  in  point  of  fact,  Danaus  himself,  as  has  been 
long  recognized  (cf.  Ed.  Meyer,  op.  cit.  p.  73),  is  a 
mere  phantasm,  having  neither  a  cult  nor  a  special 
myth  of  his  own. 

The  story  of  the  Danaids  as  slayers  of  men  and 
adepts  in  the  use  of  arms  must,  accordingly,  be 
brought  into  line  with  the  Amazonian  myths. 
These  have  been  admirably  dealt  with  by  J.  Topffer 
(Pauly-Wissowa,  i.  1754  ;  cf.  also  the  same  writer's 
Attische  Genealogie,  Berlin,  1889,  p.  191  ff.;  Kretsch- 
mer  in  Glotta,  ii.  [1908]  201  ff.  ;  O.  Braunstein,  Die 
politische  Stellung  der  griech.  Frau,  Leipzig,  1911, 
p.  69  ff.).  In  the  myths  of  the  Amazons,  Topffer 
sees  fragmentary  reminiscences  of  a  pre-Hellenic 
'  gynaikocratic '  race  which  survived  for  a  consider- 
able period  in  Asia  Minor,  but  had  at  one  time 
been  spread  over  Greece  proper  and  the  Archi- 
pelago. The  Danaid  myth  finds  a  parallel  in  the 
story  of  the  women  of  Lemnos  who  slew  their 
husbands,  and  it  is  perhaps  more  than  a  coincidence 
that  Hypsipyle,  one  of  these  Lemnian  women, 
should  appear  in  Argos,  associated  with  the  legend 
regarding  the  institution  of  the  Nemean  Games 
by  the  seven  Argive  heroes  who  marched  against 
Thebes.     It  is  also  worthy  of  note  that  Bellerophon, 


DANGI 


393 


the  earliest  traditional  antagonist  of  the  Amazons 
in  Lycia,  came  originally  from  Argos  (II.  vi.  186). 
Now,  as  we  find  Amazon-like  women — the  Danaids, 
namely — in  Argos,  it  is  natural  to  infer  that  they 
had  made  the  same  journey  as  Bellerophon— had 
come,  that  is,  from  Argos  to  Lycia.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  Danaids  bear  the  name  of  a  pre-Hellenic 
tribe.  For,  since  the  Canaanite  Philistines  have 
been  identified  with  the  Palisatu  mentioned  in  the 
documents  of  Ramses  III.  (1200-1175  B.C.)— one  of 
the  tribes  which  worshipped  Minos  and  brought 
their  civilization  to  its  highest  development  in 
Crete  during  the  2nd  cent.  B.C.  (cf.  Bethe,  in 
Bhein.  Mus.lxv.  [1910]  200  ff.,  with  lit.  and  proofs) 
— we  can  no  longer  doubt  that  the  Argive  Danaoi 
and  the  Danuna  mentioned  in  Egyptian  documents 
as  early  as  the  14th  cent.  B.C.  were  one  and  the 
same  people  (Ed.  Meyer,  Gesch.  d.  Alterthums,  i.2 
[Stuttgart,  1909]  226). 

A  word  or  two  must  be  added  regarding  Hyper- 
mnestra,  the  only  one  of  the  Danaids  who  spared  her 
bridegroom,  and  the  mother  of  the  royal  race  of 
Argos.  Her  story,  even  more  than  that  of  Amy- 
mone,  runs  directly  counter  to  the  specific  bearing 
of  the  Danaid  myth.  Account  must  also  be  taken 
of  two  additional  facts.  (1)  Of  all  the  Danaids, 
Hypermnestra  alone  had  a  cult  in  Argos  (cf .  Hygin. 
Fab.  168  =  schol.  Strozz.  on  German.  Aratea  [172, 
ed.  Breysig],  who  speaks  of  a '  fanum,'  while  Pausan. 
ii.  21.  2,  refers  to  the  tomb  of  Hypermnestra  and 
her  husband  in  the  city  of  Argos).  (2)  Lynkeus, 
again,  is  a  standing  figure  in  Peloponnesian  legend, 
while  the  other  sons  of  -<Egyptus  are  but  empty 
names.  We  may,  therefore,  assume  that  Hyper- 
mnestra, like  Amymone,  was  a  later  addition  to  the 
group  of  the  Danaids,  designed  to  bring  each  of 
them  into  the  imposing  genealogical  fabric  of 
Argive  mythology.  This  is  confirmed  by  the 
legend  that  Lynkeus  killed  his  sisters-in-law  and 
their  father  (schol.  on  Eurip.  Helcuba,  886).  Accord- 
ing to  Archilochos  (fr.  150,  in  Malalas,  Chronogr. 
iv.  68),  Lynkeus  was  depicted  as  a  conqueror  who 
robbed  Danaus  of  both  his  dominion  and  his 
daughter. 

The  process  of  reducing  the  originally  Amazon- 
like Danaids  to  human  proportions,  as  we  find  it 
already  consummated  in  jEschylus,  led  at  length 
to  the  complete  obliteration  of  their  characteristic 
quality  of  hostility  to  men.  After  the  murder  of 
the  jEgyptiads  they  all  marry  again.  Their  father 
gives  them,  without  a  price,  as  rewards  to  the 
victors  in  the  games  (Pindar,  Pyth.  ix.  112  f.) — a 
story  which  had  originally  no  connexion  with  the 
Danaids  (P.  Friedlander,  op.  cit.  p.  17). 

The  scene  of  the  man-slaying  was  laid  among  the 
streams  of  Lerna  (Pausan.  ii.  24.  2 ;  Parcemio- 
graphi,  i.  108),  but  also  in  Argos  itself — on  the 
acropolis,  where,  as  noted  by  Pausanias  (loc.  cit.), 
there  stood  some  memorial  of  the  sons  of  jEgy ptus. 

2.  The  earliest  literary  record  of  the  tradition 
that  after  death  the  Danaids  were  doomed  to  the 
endless  and  aimless  labour  of  pouring  water  into 
vessels  with  holes  is  found  in  the  pseudo-  Platonic 
Axiochus  (3rd  cent.  B.C.),  371  E.  In  the  5th  cent. 
B.C.,  Polygnotus,  in  his  pictures  of  the  under 
world,  had  portrayed  men  and  women — character- 
ized as  '  unconsecrated ' — engaged  in  a  like  task 
(Pausan.  x.  31.  9;  cf.  Plato,  Gorgias,  493  B, 
Rep.  363  D).  Accordingly,  Wilamowitz-Mollendorff 
(Homer.  Untersuchungen,  Berlin,  1884,  p.  202)  and 
Kohde  (Psyche,  Tubingen,  1891-94,  pp.  292-297) 
have  advanced  the  hypothesis  that  this  penalty  of 
fruitless  labour  forms  a  later  accretion  of  the 
Danaid  myth.  But  Rohde's  assertion  that  the 
Danaids  were  dreXeis,  i.e.  that  they  had  not  attained 
their  rf\os  by  marriage,  suggests  that  the  concep- 
tion of  the  Danaids  as  aimless  water-drawers  in 
Hades  may   possibly   be  older  than  he  believes. 


This  drudgery,  in  fact,  was  regarded  among  the 
Greeks,  and  is  regarded  even  to-day,  e.g.,  in  the 
Tyrol,  as  the  lot  of  the  unmarried  in  the  under 
world  (Waser  in  Pauly-Wissowa,  iv.  2087,  60  ff.  ; 
P.  Friedlander,  op.  cit.  p.  28). 

The  relative  antiquity  of  this  element  in  the 
story  is  likewise  borne  out  by  a  further  remark  of 
Rohde,  viz.  that  the  Danaids  could  be  associated 
with  the  task  of  drawing  water  only  at  a  time  when 
they  were  still  thought  of  as  unmarried.  Even  in 
Pindar's  day  (Pyth.  ix.  112),  however,  this  was  no 
longer  the  case  ;  while,  according  to  jEschylus,  at 
least  two  of  them,  Amymone  and  Hypermnestra, 
yield  to  the  power  of  love.  For  that  form  of  the 
myth  which,  as  made  known  to  us  by  the  surviving 
verse  of  the  epic  Aavatdes,  represented  the  Danaids 
as  Amazon-like  women  hostile  to  men,  we  are  thus 
brought  to  a  date  not  later  than  the  6th  cent.  B.C. 
It  must,  therefore,  have  been  about  that  time  that 
the  lot  of  the  unmarried  in  Hades — the  unending 
labour  of  drawing  water — was  first  ascribed  to  the 
Danaids. 

Once  this  feature  had  been  added  to  their  story, 
however,  and  had  become  effectually  grafted  upon 
it,  the  Danaids  would  come  quite  naturally  to  be 
regarded  as  drawers  of  water  even  in  their  lifetime 
In  this  way  they  would  then  be  brought  into  con- 
nexion with  Lerna  in  Argos — perhaps  originally 
the  district  haunted  by  their  ghosts — and  at  length 
the  water-nymph  Amymone  would  be  numbered 
with  them.  It  accords  with  all  this  that  Danaus 
was  extolled  as  the  hero  who  provided  Argos  with 
water  :  so  Hesiod,  fr.  24  [ed.  Rzaeh],  a  verse  given 
by  Strabo,  viii.  370,  and  again  (371)  in  a  simpler 
rendering,  which,  however,  is  of  special  interest,  as 
it  states  that  it  was  not  Danaus,  but  the  Danaids, 
who  '  made  Argos,  once  waterless,  a  well-watered 
land.' 

Literature. — Manuals  of  Greek  Mythology,  Roscher,  and 
Pauly-Wissowa  ;  Ed.  Meyer,  Forschungen  zur  alten  Gesch. 
i.  [Halle,  1S92]  74  ;  W.  Schwarz,  Jahrb./ur  klass.  Philol.  cxlsii. 
[Leipzig,  1893]  93  ff. ;  P.  Friedlander,  Argolica,  Berlin,  1905, 
p.  6  ff.  ;  Waser,  ARW  ii.  [1899J  47-63 ;  Fourriere,  Revue  Wexi- 
gese  myth.  vii.  [1898]  39,  318.  E.  BETHE. 

DANCING.— See  Processions  and  Dances. 

DANPIS.— See  Yogis. 

DANGl  ('highlanders,'  Hindi  dang,  '  a  hill').— 
A  tribe  of  Dravidian  origin,  which  at  the  Census  of 
1901  numbered  97,422,  almost  entirely  confined  to 
Central  India,  Rajputana,  and  the  Central  Pro- 
vinces, in  which  last  they  are  described  as  origin- 
ally robbers  and  freebooters,  whose  home  was  in 
the  Vindhyan  range.  They  are  doubtless  ethno- 
logically  connected  with  the  Gond  and  Bhil  tribes 
which  occupy  the  adjoining  hills;  but  they  are 
rapidly  becoming  Hinduized,  and  have  now  gone 
so  far  as  to  call  themselves  Rajputs,  and  to  claim 
descent  from  a  mythical  Raja  Dang  of  the  Raghu- 
bansi  sept.  In  the  Jhansi  District,  from  which  we 
have  the  most  complete  account  of  the  religion  of 
the  tribe,  they  rank  as  low-caste  Hindus ;  they 
cremate  their  adult  dead,  and  perform  the  iraddha, 
or  mind-rite,  through  Brahmans.  Like  all  castes 
on  their  promotion  to  a  higher  social  rank,  they  are 
particularly  careful  to  avoid  ceremonial  pollution. 
This  results  in  its  most  serious  form  from  the 
killing  of  a  cow.  In  this  case  the  offender,  in 
order  to  procure  restoration  to  caste  rights,  must 
make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Ganges,  feed  his  tribes- 
men and  Brahmans,  or  perform  the  mock  marriage 
of  the  salagrama  ammonite,  representing  Visnu, 
with  the  tulsi,  or  holy  basil  tree.  This  rite,  of 
course,  necessitates  the  payment  of  liberal  fees  to 
Brahmans.  If  the  offender  prefers  to  do  so,  he 
may  purchase  restoration  to  caste  by  paying  the 
marriage  expenses  of   two   poor  children  of   the 


394 


DANTE 


tribe.  They  now  worship  the  ordinary  Hindu 
deities,  Raniachandra,  Krsna,  Siva,  Durga,  and 
others.  Special  regard  is  paid  to  the  minor  gods 
of  the  village,  especially  to  those  who  cause  and 
remove  disease,  such  as  Sltala,  the  goddess  of 
smallpox,  and  Hardaul  Lala,  the  deified  hero  who 
controls  cholera  (Crooke,  Popular  Religion2,  1896, 
i.  138  f.).  Bhumiya,  the  god  of  the  soil,  is  repre- 
sented by  an  old  snake,  which  is  worshipped  in 
June-July.  At  marriages  they  perform  a  rite  to 
propitiate  the  sainted  dead,  known  as  deva  pitra 
('ancestor  gods') ;  but  they  have  no  definite  idea  of 
their  nature  or  functions.  Their  sacred  trees  are 
the  plpal  (Ficus  religiosa)  and  the  chhonkar  (Pro- 
sopis  spicigera).  The  cows  of  the  household,  as 
emblems  of  Laksmi  (goddess  of  good  fortune),  are 
worshipped  at  the  Divall,  or  feast  of  lamps  ;  and 
horses  at  the  Dasahra. 

Litkratcre. — W.  Crooke,  Tribes  and  Castes  of  the  North- 
Western  Provinces  and  Oudh,  Calcutta,  1896,  ii.  246  ff. ;  Central 
Provinces  Gazetteer,  1870,  p.  250 ;  Census  Report  Central  Pro- 
vinces, 1901,  l  166.  W.  Crooke. 

DANTE.— 

i.  Life. — Dante  Alighieri  was  born  at  Florence,  some  time 
between  May  18  and  June  17,  1265,  of  an  old  Florentine  familj- 
of  supposed  Roman  descent.  His  father,  Alighiero  di  Bellin- 
cione  Alighieri,  was  a  notary  who  adhered  to  the  Guelf  faction, 
for  which  his  ancestors  had  fought.  Cacciaguida,  Alighieri's 
great-grandfather,  who  appears  in  the  Paradiso  as  the  founder 
of  the  house,  is  mentioned  in  a  recently  discovered  document 
of  1131  as  '  Cacciaguida,  Alius  Adami.'  The  poet  was  the  only 
child  of  his  father's  first  marriage,  but  had  a  step-brother  and 
two  step-sisters  (one  of  whom  appears  in  the  Vita  Nuova) 
younger  than  himself.  Two  episodes  chiefly  colour  his  early 
life  :  his  romantic  love  for  Beatrice  (probably  the  daughter  of 
Folco  Portinari  and  wife  of  Simone  de'  Bardi),  whom  he  first 
saw  at  the  end  of  his  ninth  year,  and  who  died  on  June  8,  1290  ; 
and  his  friendship  (gained  by  his  first  sonnet,  written  in  1283) 
with  the  older  poet,  Guido  Cavalcanti,  who  died  in  August  1300. 
At  an  early  age  he  fell  under  the  influence  of  the  Florentine 
philosopher  and  statesman,  Bnmetto  Latini.  Recent  research 
tends  to  confirm  the  statement  of  his  early  biographers  con- 
cerning his  studying  at  the  university  of  Bologna ;  a  sonnet, 
now  generally  accepted  as  his,  shows  that  he  was  in  that  city 
shortly  before  1287.  Dante  served  in  the  Florentine  cavalry  at 
the  battle  of  Campaldiuo  on  June  11,  12S9.  After  the  death  of 
Beatrice,  he  lapsed  into  a  mode  of  life  which  he  afterwards 
recognized  as  morally  unworthy,  and  seems  to  have  had  relations 
with  several  women,  the  exact  nature  of  which  is  uncertain. 
To  this  epoch  belongs  a  series  of  satirical  sonnets  interchanged 
between  him  and  Forese  Donati  (cf.  Purg.  xxiii.  llfi-119).  About 
1296  he  married  Gemma  di  Mauetto  Donati,  a  lady  of  a  noble 
Guelf  house,  by  whom  he  had  four  children.  He  entered  public 
life  in  1295,  with  a  speech  in  the  General  Council  of  the  Com- 
mune in  support  of  modifications  in  the  '  Ordinances  of  Justice,  * 
the  enactments  by  which  nobles  were  excluded  from  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  Republic.  In  May  1300,  he  acted  as  Floren- 
tine ambassador  to  the  Commune  of  San  Gimignano,  and  in  the 
same  year,  from  June  15  to  August  16  (two  months  being  the 
statutory  term  of  office),  he  sat  by  election  in  the  Signoria,  the 
chief  magistracy  of  the  Republic,  as  one  of  the  six  priors.  In 
this  year,  the  Guelf  party,  which  then  swayed  Florentine 
politics,  split  into  the  rival  factions  of  Bianchi  and  Neri, 
'Whites'  and  'Blacks.'  The  former  (to  which  Dante  himself 
and  Guido  Cavalcanti  belonged)  was,  in  the  main,  the  constitu- 
tional party,  supported  by  the  burghers  of  the  city ;  the  latter, 
led  by  Corso  Donati,  the  brother  of  Forese  and  kinsman  of  the 
poet's  wife,  was  more  aristocratic  and  turbulent,  looking  to  the 
Pope,  Boniface  vin.,  and  relying  upon  the  favourof  the  populace. 
As  prior,  Dante  probably  played  a  leading  part  in  opposing  the 
interference  of  the  Pope  and  his  legate,  the  Franciscan  cardinal, 
Matteo  d'Acquasparta,  in  the  affairs  of  the  Republic,  and  in  con- 
fining the  leaders  of  both  factions  (including  Guido  Cavalcanti 
and  Corso  Donati)  within  bounds:  in  the  following  year,  1301, 
we  find  him,  though  no  longer  in  office,  still  supporting  an  anti- 
Papal  policy  by  his  votes  and  speeches  in  the  various  councils  of 
the  State.  On  November  1, 1301,  Charles  of  Valois,  with  French 
troops,  entered  Florence  as  Papal  'peacemaker,' and,  with  every 
circumstance  of  treachery  and  licence,  restored  the  Neri  to 
power.  It  is  uncertain  whether  Dante  was  in  Florence  when 
this  occurred,  or  in  Rome  on  an  embassy  from  the  Bianchi  to 
the  Pope  (as  asserted  by  Boccaccio  and  Leonardo  Bruni,  but 
disputed  by  later  writers).  In  any  case,  a  charge  of  malversation 
in  office  and  hostility  to  the  Church  was  trumped  up  against 
him :  he  was  sentenced  to  confiscation  of  his  goods,  two  years' 
exile,  and  perpetual  exclusion  from  public  office  (January  27, 
1302),  and  finally  to  be  burned  to  death  (March  10,  1302),  if  he 
Bhould  ever  come  into  the  power  of  the  Commune. 

The  rest  of  Dante's  life  was  passed  in  exile,  in  the  latter  part 
of  which  he  was  joined  by  his  two  sons  and  one  of  his  daughters, 
though  he  seems  never  to  have  seen  his  wife  again.  In  the 
Conoivio  (i.  3)  he  speaks  of  himself  as  having  'gone  through 
well-nigh  all  the  regions  to  which  this  (Italian)  language  extepds  ; 
a  pilgrim,  almost  a  beggar,  showing,  against  my  will,  the  wound 


of  fortune,  which  is  wont  unjustly  to  be  ofttimee  reputed  to  the 
wounded.'  Until  the  summer  of  1303,  he  made  common  cause 
with  his  fellow-exiles  at  Siena,  Arezzo,  Forli,  and  elsewhere,  in 
attempting  to  return  to  Florence  by  force  of  arms  and  with 
Ghibelline  aid,  but  ultimately  broke  with  them,  and  found  it 
'for  his  fair  fame  to  have  made  a  party  for  himself  (Par.  xvii. 
69).  Between  the  latter  part  of  1303  and  the  end  of  1306  we 
find  him  at  Verona  at  the  court  of  Bartolommeo  della  Scala;  at 
Bologna,  where  he  may  have  made  a  more  lengthy  stay  ;  possibly 
at  Padua  (though  the  document  once  regarded  as  attesting  his 
presence  there  in  August  1306  is  now  disputed) ;  certainly  in 
Lunigiana,  with  the  Marquis  Franceschino  Malaspina  (October 
1306).  We  now  lose  sight  of  him  for  several  years,  during  which 
he  is  said  to  have  left  Italy  and  gone  to  Paris. 

In  September  1310,  the  newly  elected  Emperor,  Henry  vn., 
entered  Italy,  with  the  avowed  object  of  restoring  the  claims  of 
the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  and  healing  the  wounds  of  the  country. 
Dante,  recognizing  in  him  the  new  '  Lamb  of  God '  to  take  away 
the  sins  of  the  world,  threw  himself  heart  and  soul  into  his 
enterprise.  We  find  him,  in  the  spring  of  1311,  paying  homage 
to  the  Emperor  in  person  at  Milan,  and  writing  terrible  and 
eloquent  letters  to  him  and  against  the  Florentines  from  the 
Casentino,  whither  he  had,  perhaps,  been  sent  on  an  Imperial 
mission.  By  a  decree  of  September  2,  the  Florentine  govern- 
ment included  the  poet  in  the  list  of  exiles  to  be  excluded  from 
amnesty.  In  April  1312,  Dante  was  with  the  Emperor  at  Pisa, 
and  there  Petrarch,  a  little  boy  of  seven,  saw  his  great  prede- 
cessor for  the  first  and  only  time.  Although  he  had  urged 
Henry  to  lay  Florence  low,  reverence  for  his  fatherland  (so 
Leonardo  Bruni  writes)  kept  Dante  from  accompanying  the 
Imperial  army  which  ineffectually  besieged  the  city  during  the 
autumn  of  this  year.  Henry's  death  (August  24, 1313)  annihil- 
ated the  poet's  hopes.  His  movements  again  become  uncertain. 
It  is  possible  that  he  retired  for  a  while  to  the  convent  of  Santa 
Croce  di  Fonte  Avellana,  in  the  Apennines,  and  afterwards 
sought  the  protection  of  Uguccione  della  Faggiuola,  the  great 
Ghibelline,  at  Lucca.  By  a  decree  of  November  6, 1315,  Dante 
with  his  sons,  Pietro  and  Jacopo,  was  placed  under  the  ban  of 
the  Florentine  Republic,  and  sentenced  to  be  beheaded  if  taken. 
The  poet  was  further  and  finally  excluded  from  amnesty  by 
a  provision  of  June  2,  1316.  His  famous  letter  to  a  Floren- 
tine friend,  preserved  to  us  by  Boccaccio,  refusing  to  accept 
recall  to  Florence  under  dishonourable  conditions,  probably 
belongs  to  this  year.  It  is  most  likely  that,  in  1315  or  1316, 
Dante  went  again  to  Verona,  attracted  by  the  fame  of  Can 
Grande  della  Scala,  upon  whom  he  based  what  remained  of  his 
hopes  for  the  salvation  of  Italy.  About  1317  he  finally  settled 
at  Ravenna,  at  the  invitation  of  its  Guelf  ruler,  Guido  Novello 
da  Polenta.  There  with  his  children,  surrounded  by  a  little 
group  of  friends  and  disciples,  he  passed  the  last  years  of  his 
life.  A  curious  process  for  sorcery  held  at  Avignon  in  1320 
against  Matteo  and  Galeazzo  Visconti,  in  which  Dante's  name  is 
mentioned,  suggests  that  the  poet  visited  Piacenza  in  that  or 
the  preceding  year,  and,  if  the  Qucestio  de  Aqua  et  Terra  is 
authentic,  he  went  to  Mantua  and  again  to  Verona  about  the 
same  time.  In  August  1321,  he  was  sent  on  an  embassy  from 
Guido  da  Polenta  to  Venice,  to  avert  an  imminent  war,  and, 
returning  to  Ravenna  sick  with  fever,  he  died  there  on  Septem- 
ber 14  of  that  year.  He  was  buried  with  much  pomp  in  the 
church  of  the  Friars  Minor,  crowned  with  laurel,  'in  the  garb 
of  a  poet  and  of  a  great  philosopher.' 

2.  Works. — Dante's  works  fall  into  three  periods: 
(a)  the  period  of  his  youthful  love  and  enthusiasm, 
finding  expression  in  the  poetry  and  prose  of  the 
Vita  Nuova  ;  (b)  the  period  of  the  Mime,  his  later 
lyrics,  his  linguistic  and  philosophical  studies  and 
researches,  bearing  fruit  in  the  Italian  prose  of  the 
Convivio,  the  Latin  prose  of  the  de  Vulgari  Elo- 
quentia,  and  his  passionately  developing  political 
creed  and  ideals,  represented  by  the  de  Monarchia 
and  certain  of  his  Latin  letters ;  (c)  the  period  of 
turning,  for  the  reformation  of  the  present,  to  the 
contemplation  of  another  world,  ■  to  the  divine 
from  the  human,  to  the  eternal  from  time '  (Par. 
xxxi.  37,  38),  in  the  Divina  Commedia,  with  which 
are  associated  the  prose  Latin  epistle  to  Can  Grande 
della  Scala,  and  the  revival  of  the  pastoral  muse 
of  Vergil  in  the  two  Latin  Eclogues. 

(1)  The  Vita  Nuova,  Dante's  first  book,  which 
is  dedicated  to  Guido  Cavalcanti,  tells  the  story  of 
his  love  for  Beatrice  in  thirty-one  lyrical  poems, 
symmetrically  arranged,  and  connected  by  a  prose 
narrative.  The  lyrics  (twenty-five  sonnets,  one 
ballata,  three  canzoni,  and  two  shorter  poems  in 
the  canzone  mould),  written  from  1283  to  1292, 
cover  a  pei-iod  of  nine  years,  while  the  prose  com- 
mentary, composed  between  1292  and  1295,  weaves 
the  whole  into  unity.  Its  earlier  chapters,  in  par- 
ticular, show  the  influence  of  the  Provencal  trouba- 
dours, together  with  the  philosophical  re-handling 
of  their  theme  of  chivalrous  love  which  we  find  in 


DANTE 


395 


the  poetry  of  Guido  Guinizelli  of  Bologna,  whom 
Dante  elsewhere  claims  as  his  father  in  the  use  of 
'  sweet  and  gracious  rhymes  of  love '  (Purg.  xxvi. 
99).  The  first  of  the  three  canzoni, '  Donne  ch'avete 
intelletto  d'amore,'  marks  an  epoch  in  Italian 
poetry.  The  later  portions  of  the  book  are  already 
strongly  coloured  with  the  Christian  mysticism 
which  inspires  the  Divina  Commedia.  There  is 
much  sheer  allegory  in  the  details  and  episodes, 
but  the  work  as  a  whole  is  not  to  be  taken  in  an 
allegorical  sense.  It  is  a  mystical  reconstruction 
of  the  poet's  early  life,  in  which  earthly  love  be- 
comes spiritual,  but,  being  thus  exalted  above 
itself,  falls  to  earth  again  when  its  sustenance  and 
inspiration  are  removed,  only  to  rise  once  more  in 
repentance  and  humility  to  a  clearer  vision  and  a 
larger  hope,  with  the  resolution  to  turn  to  the 
daily  work  of  life  until  such  time  as  the  soul  may 
become  less  unworthy  to  attain  the  ideal  which  it 
has  discerned. 

(2)  Besides  the  pieces  inserted  in  the  Vita  Nuova, 
there  exists  a  large  body  of  lyrical  poetry  from 
Dante's  hand,  known  collectively  as  the  Rime  (or, 
less  correctly,  the  Canzon.ie.re).  It  consists  of  (a) 
occasional  poems  in  the  ballata  and  sonnet  form, 
composed  at  various  times  in  Dante's  life,  which 
have  not  yet  been  satisfactorily  collected  or  freed 
from  spurious  pieces  ;  (6)  a  series  of  fifteen  canzoni, 
which  Boccaccio,  probably  following  the  poet's  in- 
tention, arranged  in  a  definite  order  to  form  a  com- 
plete work.  Two  of  these  canzoni  seem  to  belong 
to  the  period  of  the  Vita  Nuova  ;  the  rest  represent 
the  period  in  Dante's  life  between  the  death  of 
Beatrice  and  the  inception  of  the  Divina  Commedia. 
They  give  variety,  dignity,  and  technical  perfection 
to  the  metrical  form  which  the  early  Italians  had 
received  and  developed  from  the  Provencals,  and 
introduce,  partly  from  the  Provencal,  two  entirely 
new  varieties  to  Italian  poetry.  Their  subject- 
matter  is  partly  philosophical  love,  in  which  the 
seeker  after  wisdom  depicts  his  quest  with  all 
the  imagery  of  an  earthly  lover's  pursuit  of  an 
adored  woman ;  partly,  it  would  seem,  more  tan- 
gible human  passion ;  partly,  ethical  and  didactic 
themes.  One  of  the  noblest  of  the  series  is  the 
canzone  of  the  three  ladies :  '  Tre  donne  intorno 
al  cor  mi  son  venute '  (probably  written  c.  1304) ; 
in  this  the  legend  told  by  Thomas  of  Celano  and 
St.  Bonaventura,  of  the  apparition  of  Poverty  and 
her  two  companions  to  St.  Francis,  is  transformed 
into  an  allegory  of  Dante's  own  impassioned  wor- 
ship of  Justice,  which  contains  the  Divina  Commedia 
in  germ. 

(3)  The  Convivio,  Dante's  chief  work  in  Italian 
prose,  is  an  attempt  to  put  the  general  reader  of 
the  epoch  into  possession  of  an  abstract  of  the 
entire  field  of  human  learning,  as  attainable  at  the 
beginning  of  the  14th  cent.,  in  the  form  of  an 
allegorical  commentary  upon  fourteen  of  the  poet's 
own  canzoni.  Its  basis  is  the  saying  attributed 
to  Pythagoras,  to  the  effect  that  the  philosopher 
should  not  be  called  the  wise  man,  but  the  lover  of 
wisdom — a  conception  which  Dante  elaborates  in 
the  terms  of  the  chivalrous  love  poetry  of  his  age, 
personifying  Philosophy  as  a  noble  lady  whose 
soul  is  love  and  whose  body  is  wisdom,  and  identi- 
fying love  with  the  study  which  is  '  the  applica- 
tion of  the  enamoured  mind  to  that  thing  of  which 
it  is  enamoured.'  The  work  shows  the  influence 
of  the  de  Consolatione  Philosophies  of  Boethius  (its 
professed  starting-point),  Isidore  of  Seville,  the 
Didascalon  of  Hugh  of  St.  Victor,  the  Trisor  of 
Brunetto  Latini,  and  the  Aristotelian  treatises  and 
Summa  contra  Gentiles  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas. 
Dante's  aim  is  to  make  the  medkeval  encyclopaedia 
a  thing  of  artistic  beauty,  by  wedding  it  to  the 
highest  poetry,  and  to  show  the  world  that  the 
Italian  vernacular  was  no  less  efficient  than  Latin 


as  a  literary  medium.  At  the  same  time,  it  was 
to  be  his  apologia  pro  vita  sua,  justifying  his  own 
conduct  as  a  man  and  as  a  citizen,  and,  incident- 
ally, explaining  certain  of  his  poems  of  earthly 
love  as  inspired  purely  by  philosophical  devotion. 
Internal  evidence  shows  that  it  was  composed  be- 
tween 1306  and  1308.  It  was  left  unfinished,  only 
the  introductory  treatise  and  the  commentaries 
upon  three  canzoni  having  been  written. 

(4)  The  de  Vulgari  Eloqucntia,  the  earliest  of 
Dante's  Latin  works,  seems  to  have  been  begun 
shortly  before  the  Convivio  (probably  in  1304  or 
1305).  Like  the  Convivio,  it  was  left  unfinished, 
only  two  of  the  projected  four  books  having  been 
written.  In  the  first  book,  starting  from  the 
origin  of  language,  Dante  considers  the  rival 
claims  for  pre-eminence  of  the  three  romance  ver- 
naculars— French,  Provencal,  and  Italian — and 
proceeds  to  examine  in  detail  all  the  various  dia- 
lects of  the  last,  none  of  which  he  finds  identical 
with  the  ideal  language  of  Italy  : 

'  The  illustrious,  cardinal,  courtly,  and  curial  vulgar  tongue 
in  Italy  is  that  which  belongs  to  every  Italian  city,  and  yet 
seems  to  belong  to  none,  and  by  which  all  the  local  dialects  of 
the  Italians  are  measured,  weighed,  and  compared.' 

As  Mazzini  well  said,  Dante's  purpose  here  is 
'  to  found  a  language  common  to  all  Italy,  to  create 
a  form  worthy  of  representing  the  national  idea ' 
— the  purpose  which  he  was  ultimately  to  fulfil 
by  writing  the  Divina  Commedia.  In  the  second 
book,  he  defines  the  highest  form  of  Italian  lyrical 
poetry,  the  canzone  ;  distinguishes  the  three  sub- 
jects alone  worthy  of  treatment  therein — Arms, 
Love,  and  Virtue ;  and  elaborates  the  poetical  art 
of  its  construction,  from  the  practice  of  the  Pro- 
vencal troubadours  (Bertran  de  Born,  Arnaut 
Daniel,  Giraut  de  Borneil,  Folquet  of  Marseilles, 
Aimeric  de  Belenoi,  Aimeric  de  Pegulhan,  to- 
gether with  the  French  poet,  king  Thibaut  of 
Navarre),  the  poets  of  the  Sicilian  school  (Guido 
delle  Colonne  and  Kinaldo  d'Aquino),  and  the 
poets  of  the  dolce  stil  nuovo  (Guido  Guinizelli, 
Guido  Cavalcanti,  Cino  da  Pistoia,  and  himself). 
Dante  refers  to  his  own  canzoni  as  those  of  '  the 
friend  of  Cino  da  Pistoia,'  and  it  is  possible  that 
he  intended  to  dedicate  the  work,  when  completed, 
to  Cino,  as  he  had  done  the  Vita  Nuova  to  Caval- 
canti. 

(5)  The  election  of  Henry  of  Luxemburg  to  the 
Empire,  in  November  130S,  drew  the  poet  back 
from  these  philosophical  and  linguistic  studies  to 
the  political  strife  that  was  about  to  convulse 
Italy.  Confronted  with  this  new  situation,  of 
apparently  unlimited  possibilities  for  his  native 
land,  he  felt  that  all  that  he  had  hitherto  written 
was  fruitless  and  insignificant.  It  was  probably 
about  1309,  in  anticipation  of  Henry's  coming  to 
Italy,  that  Dante  composed  the  de  Monarchia, 
fearing  lest  he  '  should  •  one  day  be  convicted  of 
the  charge  of  the  buried  talent.'  For  Dante,  the 
purpose  of  temporal  monarchy  or  empire,  the 
single  princedom  over  men  in  temporal  things,  is 
to  establish  liberty  and  universal  peace,  in  order 
that  the  whole  of  the  potentialities  of  the  human 
race,  for  thought  and  for  action,  may  be  realized. 
In  the  first  book  he  shows  that  this  universal 
monarchy,  thus  conceived,  is  necessary  for  the 
well-being  of  the  world  ;  in  the  second  he  attempts 
to  prove,  first  from  arguments  based  on  reason  and 
then  from  arguments  based  on  Christian  faith,  that 
the  Boman  people  acquired  the  dignity  of  empire 
by  Divine  right.  It  is  a  cardinal  point  in  Dante's 
reading  of  history  that  the  history  of  the  Jews  and 
the  history  of  the  Komans  reveal  the  Divine  plan 
on  parallel  lines,  the  one  race  being  entrusted  with 
the  preparation  for  the  Gospel,  the  other  with 
the  promulgation  of  Roman  law.  For  him,  as  for 
mediteval  political  theorists  in  general,  the  Em- 
peror of    his  own  day,   when  duly  elected    and 


DANTE 


crowned,  is  the  successor  of  Julius  and  Augustus 
no  less  than  of  Charlemagne  and  Otho.  The  third 
book  proves  that  the  authority  of  such  an  Em- 
peror does  not  come  to  him  from  the  Pope  (the 
coronation  of  Charlemagne  being  an  act  of  usurpa- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  latter),  but  depends  im- 
mediately upon  God,  '  descending  upon  him  without 
any  mean,  from  the  fountain  of  universal  author- 
ity.' Divine  Providence  has  ordained  man  for  two 
ends  :  blessedness  of  this  life,  which  consists  in  the 
exercise  of  his  natural  powers,  and  is  figured  in  the 
Earthly  Paradise ;  and  blessedness  of  life  eternal, 
which  consists  in  the  fruition  of  the  Beatific  "Vision 
in  the  Celestial  Paradise.  To  these  two  diverse 
ends,  indicated  by  reason  and  revelation  respect- 
ively, man  must  come  by  the  diverse  means  of 
philosophy  and  spiritual  teaching,  and,  because 
of  human  cupidity,  he  must  be  checked  and 
directed : 

'  Wherefore  man  had  need  of  a  twofold  directive  power  ac- 
cording to  his  twofold  goal  :  the  Sovereign  Pontiff,  to  lead  the 
human  race  to  eternal  life  in  accordance  with  things  revealed  ; 
and  the  Emperor,  to  direct  the  human  race  to  temporal  felicity 
in  accordance  with  philosophical  teaching.* 

This,  then,  is  the  purpose  of  Church  and  State, 
each  independent  in  its  own  field,  a  certain 
superiority  pertaining  to  the  former  in  that 
mortal  felicity  is  ordained  for  immortal  felicity. 
We  here  find  '  in  its  full  maturity  the  general 
conception  of  the  nature  of  man,  of  government, 
and  of  human  destiny,  which  was  afterwards 
transfigured,  without  being  transformed,  into  the 
framework  of  the  Sacred  Poem  '  (Wicksteed). 

(6)  Dante's  political  letters  are  a  pendant  to  the 
•  de  Monarchia,  but  coloured  by  the  realities,  and 

finally  embittered  by  the  circumstances  of  the 
Emperor's  expedition.  From  the  Messianic  fervour 
of  his  appeal  on  Henry's  behalf  to  the  princes  and 
peoples  of  Italy  (Ep.  v.  ['  Oxford  Dante  '],  written 
in  1310),  we  pass  to  the  prophetic  fury  and  sceva 
indignatio  of  his  address  to  '  the  most  wicked 
Florentines  within'  (Ep.  vi.,  March  31,  1311),  and 
his  rebuke  to  the  Emperor  himself  (Ep.  vii.,  April 
16,  1311),  when  the  former  were  organizing  the 
national  resistance  to  the  Imperial  power,  and  the 
latter  seemed  to  tarry.  To  the  latter  part  of 
1314  belongs  the  eloquent  letter  to  the  Italian 
cardinals  in  conclave  at  Carpentras  after  the 
death  of  Clement  v.  (Ep.  viii.),  urging  the  elec- 
tion of  an  Italian  Pope  to  return  to  Rome  and 
reform  the  Church.  Of  Dante's  private  and  per- 
sonal correspondence,  the  only  specimen  that  can 
be  unhesitatingly  accepted  as  authentic  is  the 
famous  letter  to  a  Florentine  friend  refusing  the 
amnesty  in  1316  (Ep.  ix.) ;  but  two  others,  ap- 
parently accompanying  two  of  his  lyrical  poems, 
addressed  to  Cino  da  Pistoia  (Ep.  Hi.,  c.  1305)  and 
Moroello  Malaspina  (Ep.  iv.,  c.  1306  or  1311),  are 
probably  genuine. 

(7)  The  authenticity  of  the  letter  to  Can  Grande 
della  Scala,  though  much  disputed,  is  gradually 
becoming  generally  recognized.  Written  appar- 
ently between  1318  and  1320,  it  dedicates  the 
Paradiso  to  Can  Grande,  interprets  the  opening 
lines  of  its  first  canto,  and  explains  the  allegory, 
subject,  and  purpose  of  the  whole  poem.  It  is  the 
starting-point  for  the  study  of  the  mystical  aspect 
of  the  Divina  Commedia,  alike  in  its  appeal  to 
the  authority  of  St.  Augustine,  St.  Bernard,  and 
Kichard  of  St.  Victor  for  the  power  of  the  human 
intellect  to  be  so  exalfed  in  this  life  as  to  transcend 
the  measure  of  humanity,  and  in  its  unmistakable 
claim  for  the  poet  himself  that  he  has  been  the 
personal  recipient  of  a  religious  experience  too 
sublime  and  overwhelming  to  be  adequately  ex- 
pressed in  words. 

(8)  Dante's  first  Eclogue,  a  pastoral  poem  in 
Latin  hexameters,   was   written    about    1319,   in 


answer  to  a  Latin  poem  from  Giovanni  del  Virgilio, 
a  lecturer  at  Bologna,  who  had  urged  him  to  write 
a  Latin  poem  and  come  to  that  city  to  receive  the 
laurel  crown.  It  is  a  beautiful  and  gracious  poem, 
in  which  the  Vergilian  eclogue  becomes  a  picture 
of  the  poet's  own  life  at  Ravenna  in  the  compara- 
tive peace  and  calm  of  his  latest  years.  A  second 
Eclogue  in  the  same  spirit,  sent  to  Giovanni  del 
Virgilio  by  Dante's  sons  after  the  poet's  death,  is 
somewhat  inferior,  and  was,  perhaps,  only  in  part 
actually  composed  by  him. 

(9)  The  Qucestio  de  Aqua  et  Terra  professes  to 
be  a  philosophical  question  concerning  the  relative 
position  of  water  and  earth  on  the  surface  of  the 
globe,  publicly  discussed  by  Dante  at  Verona  on 
January  20,  1320.  Its  authenticity  has  of  late 
found  several  able  defenders,  but  must  still  be 
regarded  as  highly  problematical. 

(10)  It  is  impossible  to  decide  at  what  date  the 
Divina  Commedia  was  actually  begun.  According 
to  Boccaccio,  the  first  seven  cantos  of  the  Inferno 
were  composed  before  the  poet's  exile,  and  he  was 
induced  to  take  up  the  work  again  in  consequence 
of  his  recovery  of  the  manuscript  in  1306  or  1307. 
Although  this  seems  contradicted  by  internal  evi- 
dence, there  are  some  indications  that  these  cantos 
were  originally  conceived  on  a  different  plan  from 
that  ultimately  adopted  in  the  poem.  It  is  possible 
that  the  poem,  as  we  now  nave  it,  was  begun 
about  1308,  interrupted  by  the  Italian  enterprise 
of  Henry  of  Luxemburg,  and  resumed  in  the  years 
after  the  latter's  death.  While  there  are  no  cer- 
tain and  definite  allusions  in  the  Purgatorio  to 
events  later  than  1308,  there  are  references  in  the 
Inferno,  by  way  of  prophecy,  to  occurrences  of 
1312,  and  possibly  (though  this  is  more  open  to 
question)  of  1314,  while  the  Paradiso  (xii.  120) 
contains  what  appears  to  be  an  echo  of  a  Papal 
bull  of  1318.  An  allusion  in  the  first  Eclogue 
shows  that,  by  1319,  the  Inferno  and  the  Purga- 
torio ('  infera  regna ')  were  completed  and,  so  to 
speak,  published,  but  that  Dante  was  still  engaged 
upon  the  Paradiso  ('  mundi  circumflua  corpora 
astricolseque') ;  and  we  learn  from  Boccaccio  that 
the  last  thirteen  cantos  had  not  yet  been  made 
known  to  the  world  at  the  time  of  the  poet's 
death.  In  any  case,  it  seems  clear  that  the  Divina 
Commedia  as  a  whole,  whenever  it  may  have  been 
begun,  although  the  action  is  relegated  by  a  poetic 
fiction  to  the  assumed  date  of  1300,  should  be 
regarded  as  the  work  of  the  last  period  of  the 
poet's  career,  when  the  failure  of  his  earthly  hopes 
with  Henry  of  Luxemburg  had  transferred  his 
gaze  from  time  to  eternity,  and,  himself  purified 
in  the  fires  of  experience  and  adversity,  he  might 
lawfully  come  forward  as  vir  prwdicans  justitiam, 
'  to  remove  those  living  in  this  life  from  their 
state  of  misery,  and  to  lead  them  to  the  state  of 
felicity.' 

Dante's  primary  source  of  inspiration  for  the 
Divina  Commedia  is  the  actual  life  of  his  own 
times  which  he  saw  around  him,  interpreted  by 
the  story  of  his  own  inner  life.  His  aim  is  to 
reform  the  world  by  a  poem  which  should  present 
man  and  Nature  in  the  mirror  of  eternity.  But  he 
has,  inevitably,  his  literary  sources.  While  the 
sixth  book  of  the  JEneid  may  be  called  his  starting 
point,  Dante  was  probably  acquainted  with  some 
of  the  many  medieval  accounts  of  visits  of  a  living 
man,  '  whether  in  the  body  or  out  of  the  body,'  to 
the  other  world,  the  immortale  secolo,  which,  be* 
ginning  with  the  Visio  Sancti  Pauli  and  those 
recorded  in  the  Dialogues  of  St.  Gregory  the 
Great,  became  especially  abundant  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  12th  cent.  ;  though  the  only  one  that 
has  left  notable  traces  in  the  Divina  Commedia 
is  the  Visio  Tnugdali  of  the  Irish  Benedictine 
Marcus  (1149).    Of  the  Latin  poets,  next  to  Vergil, 


DANTE 


397 


he  was  most  influenced  by  Lucan,  while  Ovid  and 
Statius  are  his  main  sources  for  classical  myth- 
ology, and  Livy  and  Orosius  for  classical  history. 
Cicero  was  familiar  to  him  from  his  early  man- 
hood ;  but  he  shows  surprisingly  little  acquaint- 
ance with  Terence  and  Horace.  The  Latin  versions 
of  Aristotle,  the  Vulgate,  and  the  works  of  St. 
Augustine  permeate  the  poem  with  their  influence. 
He  knew  no  Plato  at  first  hand  (he  was  almost 
completely  ignorant  of  Greek),  save,  perhaps,  the 
Timceus  in  the  Latin  version  of  Chaleidius,  but 
there  is  a  strong  vein  of  Neo-Platonism  in  the 
poem,  derived  in  part  directly  from  the  pseudo- 
Aristotelian  de  Causis  and  the  Dionysian  writings 
(either  in  the  translation  of  Scotus  Erigena  or 
through  the  medium  of  Aquinas).  Certain  ele- 
ments in  his  thought  came  from  Boethius  and 
St.  Gregory  the  Great,  while,  of  later  mediaeval 
writers,  the  influence  of  St.  Peter  Damian  (esp. 
his  de  Abdications  Episcopatus),  of  St.  Bernard, 
and  of  Richard  of  St.  Victor  is  especially  marked. 
Indeed,  the  mystical  psychology  of  the  whole 
poem  is  largely  based  upon  the  de  Prceparatione 
animi  ad  Contemplationem  and  the  de  Contempla- 
tione  of  the  last-named  writer.  Of  the  poet's 
own  contemporaries,  Albertus  Magnus  and  St. 
Bonaventura  impressed  him  less  than  did  St. 
Thomas  Aquinas,  the  influence  of  whose  Aris- 
totelian treatises,  his  Summa  contra  Gentiles,  and 
Sum/ma  Theologies,  is  profound  and  all-pervading. 
Recent  investigation  points  to  Dante's  acquaint- 
ance with  the  mystical  treatises  of  Mechthild  of 
Magdeburg  and  Mechthild  of  Hackeborn,  though 
it  is  questionable  whether  either  of  them  can  be 
identified  with  the  Matelda  of  the  Earthly  Paradise. 
There  is  a  certain  element  of  Joachism  in  the 
Divina  Commedia,  but  Dante  was  probably  ac- 
quainted with  the  doctrines  of  the  Abbot  of  Flora 
only  at  second  hand,  in  the  Arbor  Vitce  Crucifixes 
of  Ubertino  da  Casale  (1305),  which  is  chrono- 
logically the  last  of  the  sources  of  the  poem,  and 
from  which  (together  with  the  life  of  the  Seraphic 
Father  by  St.  Bonaventura,  and,  perhaps,  the 
earlier  legend  by  Thomas  of  Celano)  he  derived 
his  conception  of  the  life  and  work  of  St.  Francis 
in  the  Paradiso. 

The  Divina  Commedia  is  an  allegory  of  human 
life  and  human  destiny,  in  the  form  of  a  vision 
of  the  '  state  of  souls  after  death ' ;  it  is  likewise, 
in  the  mystical  sense,  a  figurative  representation 
of  the  soul's  ascent,  while  still  in  the  flesh,  by  the 
three  ways  of  purgation,  illumination,  and  union, 
to  the  fruition  of  the  Absolute  in  that  '  half-hour 
during  which  there  is  silence  in  Heaven.' 

Above  and  around  the  material  universe  is  the 
celestial  rose  of  Divine  Beauty,  flowering  in  the 
rays  of  the  sun  of  Divine  Love,  still  to  be  completed 
by  man's  correspondence  with  Divine  Grace  ;  while 
on  earth — the  threshing:floor  of  mortality — -by  use 
or  abuse  of  free-will,  character  is  formed,  and 
human  drama  is  played  out.  The  dual  scheme  of 
the  de  Monarchia  is  transplanted  from  the  sphere 
of  Church  and  Empire  to  the  field  of  the  individual 
soul.  Man,  in  the  person  of  Dante,  vainly  attempts 
to  escape  from  the  dark  wood  of  alienation  from 
truth,  and  is  barred  by  his  own  vices  from  the 
ascent  of  the  delectable  mountain  (felicity,  or, 
perhaps,  knowledge  of  self) ;  but  Vergil,  repre- 
senting human  philosophy  inspired  by  reason, 
guides  him  through  the  nine  circles  of  Hell  (reali- 
zation of  the  nature  and  effects  of  sin),  and  up  the 
seven  terraces  of  Purgatory  (setting  love,  the  soul's 
natural  tendency  to  what  is  apprehended  as  good, 
in  order,  and  purifying  the  soul  from  the  stains 
still  left  after  conversion)  to  the  Earthly  Paradise, 
which  in  one  sense  is  the  happy  state  of  a  good 
conscience,  and  in  another  the  life  of  Eden  regained 
by  the  purgatorial  pains.     This  life  is  personified 


in  Matelda,  the  realization  of  Leah,  who,  in  the 
mystical  system  of  Richard  of  St.  Victor,  sym- 
bolizes 'affection  inflamed  by  Divine  inspiration, 
and  composing  herself  to  the  norm  of  justice.' 
Then  the  soul  can  rightly  comprehend  the  history 
of  Church  and  State,  as  represented  in  the  allegori- 
cal pageant,  and  is  prepared  for  a  further  illumina- 
tion. Beatrice,  symbolizing  the  Divine  Science  as 
possessing  Revelation,  thence  uplifts  the  poet 
through  the  nine  moving  heavens  of  successive 
preparation,  corresponding  to  the  nine  angelic 
orders,  into  the  true  Paradise,  the  timeless  and 
spaceless  empyrean  heaven  of  heavens,  where  her 
place  is  taken  by  St.  Bernard,  type  of  the  loving 
contemplation  in  which  the  eternal  life  of  the  soul 
consists  ;  and,  after  the  impassioned  hymn  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin  placed  upon  Bernard's  lips,  the 
poem  closes  in  the  momentary  actualizing  of  the 
soul's  entire  capacity  of  knowing  and  loving,  when 
desire  and  will  move  in  harmony  with  '  the  Love 
that  moves  the  sun  and  the  other  stars,'  in  an 
anticipation  of  the  Beatific  Vision  of  the  Divine 
Essence. 

In  describing  the  '  spiritual  lives '  of  Hell,  Purga- 
tory, and  Paradise,  Dante  has  given  a  summary, 
illumined  by  imagination  and  kindled  by  passion, 
of  all  that  is  permanently  significant  in  the  life 
and  thought  of  the  Middle  Ages.  He  is  throughout 
harking  back  to  a  primitive  ideal  of  Christianity, 
freed  from  the  corruptions  and  accretions  of  the 
subsequent  centuries.  Under  the  tree  of  an 
Empire  renovated  by  the  power  of  the  Cross, 
Revelation  is  seated  on  the  bare  ground  as 
guardian  of  the  chariot  of  the  Church,  with  no 
attendants  save  the  theological  and  moral  virtues, 
who  bear  nought  save  the  seven  gifts  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  But  the  ideal  is  never  realized,  because, 
side  by  side  with  the  conquest  of  the  world  by 
Christianity,  had  come  the  conquest  of  the  Church 
by  the  world.  The  alleged  donation  by  Con- 
stantine  of  wealth  and  territory  to  the  Papacy  is 
for  Dante  the  turning-point  in  history,  and  the 
primal  cause  of  the  failure  of  Christianity,  which 
was  bearing  such  bitter  fruit  in  the  corruption  of 
mankind.  The  supremely  significant  event  of  his 
own  century  is  thus  the  rise  of  St.  Francis,  and  his 
marriage  with  Lady  Poverty,  as  the  first  attempted 
return  to  the  ideal  of  Christianity  that  Christ  had 
left.  This,  in  its  turn,  having  proved  but  a  passing 
episode,  the  poet  can  only  look  forward  to  the 
coming  of  the  deliverer,  the  mysterious  Veltro,  the 
'  Five  Hundred  Ten  and  Five,'  to  be  sent  from 
God  to  renovate  the  Empire  and  to  reform  the 
Church  by  other  methods.  For  the  rest,  men  at 
all  times  '  are  masters  of  their  fate,'  through  the 
supreme  gift  of  free-will,  to  put  violence  upon 
which,  as  Richard  of  St.  Victor  had  said,  '  neither 
befits  the  Creator  nor  is  in  the  power  of  the 
creature.'  The  soul  of  man  works  out  its  own 
salvation  or  damnation ;  and  the  tragic  fact  con- 
sists simply  in  the  soul's  deliberate  choice  of  evil. 
The  Inferno  departs  less  than  the  other  two  can- 
ticles from  mediaeval  tradition  in  its  structure  and 
machinery ;  but  it  is  here  that  the  dramatic  side 
of  Dantes  genius  is  especially  displayed.  The 
tragic  impression  is  intensified,  on  the  one  hand, 
by  the  wasted  virtues  of  the  lost  (the  patriotism  of 
Farinata  degli  Uberti,  the  fidelity  of  Piero  delle 
Vigne,  the  scientific  devotion  of  Brunetto  Latini, 
the  high  conception  of  man's  origin  and  nature 
that  impels  Ulysses  to  his  last  voyage) ;  and,  on 
the  other,  by  frequent  and  effective  use  of  dramatic 
contrasts  between  the  souls  in  Hell  and  those  in 
Purgatory  or  Paradise  (Francesca  da  Rimini  and 
Piccarda  Donati ;  St.  Peter  Celestine  and  King 
Manfred  ;  Guido  and  Buonconte  da  Montefeltro). 
In  the  Purgatorio,  with  its  sunsets  and  starshine, 
its  angel  ministers,  its  allegorical  quest  of  liberty, 


398 


DANTE 


in  which  the  souls  iind  the  very  purgatorial  pains 
a  solace  to  be  willingly  undergone,  Dante  breaks 
almost  completely  from  legend  and  theological 
tradition,  and  presents  a  conception  of  the  second 
realm  which  is  entirely  his  own.  The  Purgatorio 
depends  less  than  the  Inferno  upon  the  splendour 
of  certain  episodes,  though  many  of  these  are 
among  the  most  beautiful  in  the  poem.  It  is  in 
its  sustained  harmony  and  all-pervading  tender- 
ness that  it  makes  immediate  and  universal  appeal 
to  heart  and  mind.  The  noblest  passages  of  the 
Paradiso  are  lyrical  rather  than  dramatic,  and 
there  is  naturally  less  action  and  less  individuali- 
zation of  character.  With  the  exception  of  St. 
Bernard,  who  is  a  singularly  vivid  character,  the 
human  aspect  of  the  souls  in  bliss  is  somewhat 
lost  in  the  glory  of  their  state  since  they  have 
become  '  sempiternal  flames ' — the  suggestion  of 
humanity  being  held  in  abeyance  after  the  third 
sphere  (where  the  stretch  of  the  earth's  shadow 
is  passed),  until  it  reappears  in  celestial  splendour 
in  the  tenth  heaven.  Notwithstanding  this,  we 
are  sensible  of  no  monotony  in  the  passage  through 
the  higher  spheres ;  for  it  is  part  of  the  poet's 
conception,  worked  out  alike  in  the  allegorical 
imagery  and  in  the  spoken  narratives  of  each 
sphere,  that,  although  each  soul  partakes  supremely 
of  the  Beatific  Vision,  which  is  one  and  the  same 
in  all,  yet  there  are  not  only  grades,  but  subtle 
differences  in  the  possession  of  it,  in  which  the 
previous  life  has  been  a  factor.  As  Wicksteed 
puts  it,  '  the  tone  and  colour,  so  to  speak,  of  the 
heavenly  fruition  of  the  blessed  is  affected  by  the 
nature  of  the  moral  warfare  through  which  they 
rose  to  spiritual  victory.'  The  human  interest  in 
the  Paradiso  seems  concentrated  in  such  episodes 
as  the  appearance  of  Piccarda  Donati  and  Dante's 
colloquy  with  Cacciaguida,  or  the  exquisite  passage 
where  Beatrice,  her  allegorical  office  completed, 
resumes  her  place,  in  the  unveiled  glory  of  her 
human  personality,  in  the  celestial  rose.  The 
mystical  poetry  of  the  Paradiso  is  unsurpassable  : 
above  all,  in  the  closing  canto  it  reaches  a  height 
of  spiritual  ecstasy  for  which  it  would  be  hard  to 
find  a  parallel  elsewhere  in  modern  literature. 
Shelley  wrote  of  the  Paradiso  that  it  is  'a  per- 
petual hymn  of  everlasting  love '  ;  and  Manning, 
'  Post  Dantis  paradisum  nihil  restat  nisi  visio 
Dei.' 

The  metre  in  which  the  Divina  Commedia  is 
written,  the  terza  rima,  seems  to  have  been 
created  by  Dante  from  the  sirvente.se,  the  Italian 
form  of  the  Provencal  sirventes,  employed  by  the 
troubadours  for  political  or  satirical  compositions 
in  contrast  to  the  statelier  canso,  or  canzone,  of 
love.  His  style  has  the  highest  qualities  of  terse- 
ness, condensation,  variety  of  intonation,  passion, 
vividness.  The  closely  packed  imagery  is  hardly 
ever  introduced  for  its  own  sake,  but  to  exemplify 
and  clarify  his  meaning.  Even  at  the  heights  of  the 
Paradiso,  he  does  not  shrink  from  uncompromising 
realism  in  his  similes  and  images.  The  beauty 
and  fidelity  of  his  transcripts  from  Nature  are 
likewise  unapproachable.  He  can  render  a  com- 
plete scene  in  a  few  lines,  sometimes  in  a  single 
line,  whether  it  be  the  flight  of  birds,  the  trembling 
of  the  sea  at  dawn,  or  the  first  appearance  of  the 
stars  at  the  approach  of  evening.  '  Dante's  eye 
was  free  and  open  to  external  nature  in  a  degree 
new  among  poets.  .  .  .  But  light  in  general  is 
his  special  and  chosen  source  of  poetic  beauty ' 
(Church,  Dante,  1901,  pp.  149,  163).  Dante's  fidelity 
to  Nature  has  been  well  compared  with  that  of 
Wordsworth.  And,  when  he  turns  from  Nature 
to  the  mind  of  man,  'his  haunt,  and  the  main 
region  of  his  song,'  no  such  reveaier  of  the  hidden 
things  of  the  spirit,  save  Shakespeare,  has  ever 
found  utterance  in  poetry. 


3.  Position  and  character. — Dante  is  the  last  poet 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  first  of  the  modern 
world.  He  has  given  perfect  poetical  utterance  ta 
what  would  otherwise  have  been  artistically  silent, 
and  has  proved  the  most  influential  interpreter  of 
mediaeval  thought  to  the  present  day.  If  it  can  no 
longer  be  said,  without  considerable  reservation, 
that  he  created  the  Italian  language,  or  that  he 
founded  Italian  literature,  it  is  certain  that  he  first 
showed  that  modern  literature  in  general  could  pro- 
duce a  work  to  rival  the  masterpieces  of  antiquity, 
and  he  first  gave  to  Italy  a  national  consciousness. 
His  character  is  reflected  in  his  works  :  profoundly 
reverent  to  what  he  deemed  Divinely  ordained 
authority,  but  no  less  enkindled  with  prophetic  fire 
against  the  abuse  and  corruption  of  that  authority, 
whether  in  Church  or  State,  and  absolutely  fearless 
in  his  reforming  zeal ;  relentless  in  his  hatred  of 
baseness  and  wickedness,  above  all  in  high  places, 
but  with  a  capacity  for  boundless  tenderness  and 
compassion  ;  liable  to  be  carried  to  excess,  both  in 
speech  and  in  action,  by  his  impassioned  hunger 
and  thirst  after  righteousness  ;  conscious  of  his  own 
greatness,  but  ever  struggling  against  pride,  and 
exalting  humility  above  all  other  virtues ;  listen- 
ing for  a  while  to  the  song  of  the  antica  strega,  the 
siren  of  the  flesh  (Purg.  xix.  58),  but  borne  up 
'  even  to  the  sphere  of  fire '  by  the  eagle  of  the 
spirit  {Purg.  ix.  30).  The  visionary  experience, 
upon  which  the  whole  Divina  Commedia  is  based, 
was,  it  would  seem,  a  sudden  realization  of  the 
hideousness  of  vice  and  the  beauty  of  virtue,  the 
universality  and  omnipotence  of  love,  so  intense 
and  overwhelming  that  it  came  upon  him  with  the 
force  of  a  personal  and  special  revelation  ;  but  this 
was  not  all  ;  we  gather  from  the  letter  to  Can 
Grande  that  the  poet  himself  experienced  one  of 
those  contacts  with  the  Divine  attributed  to  the 
great  saints  and  mystics  of  all  creeds — in  which,  as 
George  Tyrrell  puts  it,  the  mind  touches  the  smooth 
sphere  of  the  infinite,  but  is  unable  to  lay  hold 
of  it. 

Literature. — I.  Biography. — Our  earliest  sources  for  the 
life  of  Dante,  in  addition  to  his  own  works  and  a  few  extant 
documents,  are  a  chapter  in  the  Istorie  Florentine  of  Giovanni 
Villani  (t  1348),  the  Vita  di  Dante  of  Boccaccio  (t  1375),  the 
insignificant  sketch  by  Filippo  Villani  (t  e.  1405),  the  more 
authoritative  and  critical  treatise  of  Leonardo  Bruni  (t  144-1). 
and  the  first  commentators.  There  are  ten  14th  cent,  com- 
mentators upon  part  or  the  whole  of  the  Divina  Commedia, 
including  both  Dante's  sons  and  the  author  of  the  so-called 
Ottimo  Commento,  who  professes  to  have  known  the  poet  per- 
sonally. The  most  important  is  Benveouto  Rambaldi  da 
1  inula  (1379-1410),  edited  by  Vernon  and  Lacaita  (Florence,  1887). 
Among  recent  publications  should  be  especially  mentioned  : 
G.  Biagi-Passerini,  Codice  diplomatico  dantesco  (documents, 
in  course  of  publication) ;  C.  Ricci,  L'ultimo  rifugio  di  Dante 
Alighieri,  Milan,  1891 ;  M.  Scherillo,  Alcuni  capitoli  delta 
biograjia  di  Dante,  Turin,  1896  ;  various  volumes  of  Isidoro  del 
Lungo  ;  Paget  Toynbee,  A  Dante  Dictionary,  Oxford,  1898, 
also  Dante  Alighieri,  his  Life  and  Works,  London,  1910;  N. 
Zingarelli,  Dante,  Milan,  1903  (a  work  on  an  exhaustive  scale 
with  full  bibliographies).  For  the  disputed  story  of  the  letter 
of  Frate  Ilario,  cf.  Wicksteed-Gardner,  Dante  and  Giovanv  > 
del  Virgilio,  London,  1902  ;  Rajna,  in  Dante  e  la  Lunigiana, 
Milan,  1909  ;  V.  Biagi,  Unepisodio  eelebre  nella  Vita  di  Dante, 
Modena,  1910. 

II.  MINOR  WORKS.— A  critical  edition  is  gradually  being  pro- 
duced by  the  Societa  Dantesca  Italiana,  of  which  the  de  Vulgari 
Eloquenlia(ed.  Rajna,  Florence,  1896)and  Vita  Nuova  (ed.  Barbi, 
Florence,  1907)  have  appeared.  The  Rime  are  incomplete  and 
unsatisfactory  even  in  E.  Moore's  Tutte  le  Opere  di  Dante,  1894 
(the  '  Oxford  Dante,'  which  is  of  the  highest  authority  for  the 
text  of  all  the  other  works).  A  more  recent  edition,  Vita  Nuova 
and  Canzoniere,  by  Wicksteed-Okey,  is  in  the  Temple  Classics. 
Michele  Barbi's  long-promised  edition  of  the  Rime  is  much 
needed.  There  are  critical  editions  of  the  Eclogce  by  Wicksteed 
(in  Dante  and  Giovanni  del  Virgilio)  and  Albini,  Florence,  1903 
The  translations  of  the  Latin  Works  (Howell  and  Wicksteed)  and 
of  the  Convivio  (Wicksteed)  in  the  Temple  Classics  are  provided 
with  full  critical  commentaries ;  a  more  recent  version  of  the 
Convivio  is  by  W.  W.  Jackson  (Oxford,  1909).  For  the  problem 
of  the  de  Aqua  et  Terra,  see  Moore,  Studies  in  Dante  (second 
series.  Oxf.  1899),  and  V.  Biagi's  ed.,  Modena,  1907. 

III.  DIVINA.  COMMEDIA.-The  best  Italian  editions  with  com- 
mentaries are  those  of  Scartazzini  (epoch-making,  but  now  a 
little  out  of  date),  Casini,  and  To'rraca  ;  of  the  text  with  Eng- 
lish translations  and  notes,  by  A.  J.  Butler,  the  Temple  Classics 


DAPHLA-DARDS 


yyy 


editors  (Wicksteed,  Oelsner,  Okey),  and  W.  W.  Vernon 
[Headings  .  .  .  chiefly  based  on  the  Commentary  of  Benvenuto 
da  Imola,  new  ed.  Lond.  1906-09). 

IV.  Subsidiary  LITERATURE.-T!he  reader  must  be  referred 
to  Toynbee's  Dante  Dictionary  and  the  bibliographies  included 
in  Zingarelli.  Dante  literature  has,  especially  of  late  years, 
assumed  colossal  proportions.  Among  English  works  stand  out 
pre-eminently  the  three  volumes  of  Moore's  Studies  in  Dante, 
Toynbee's  Dante  Studies  and  Researches,  Lond.  1902,  and  Dante 
in  English  Literature,  Lond.  1909.  Church's  well-known  essay 
still  holds  its  place  as  the  most  suggestive  of  introductions  to  the 
divine  poet.  The  Florentine  quarterly  publication,  II  Bullcttino 
della  Societd  Dantesca  Italiana,  is  indispensable  to  students. 

Edmund  G.  Gardner. 

DAPHLA  (Daffia,  Dapla,  DophlaJ.'—A  tribe 
occupying  a  section  of  the  Himalaya  lying  N.  of 
the  Darrang  and  Lakhimpur  Districts,  Eastern 
Bengal,  and  Assam.  They  numbered  954  at  the 
Census  of  1901  ;  but  the  greater  part  of  the  tribe 
is  found  in  independent  territory  beyond  the 
British  frontier,  whence,  driven  by  famine  or  the 
oppression  of  the  Abors,  they  have  recently  shown 
a  tendency  to  migrate  into  the  Darrang  and 
Lakhimpur  Districts.  They  call  themselves  Niso, 
Nising,  or  Bangni,  the  last  name  meaning  'men.' 
According  to  Mackenzie  (Hist,  of  the  Relations  of 
the  Government  with  the  Hill  Tribes  on  the  N.E. 
Frontier  of  Bengal,  541),  Miri,  Daphla,  and  Abor 
(see  Abor,  vol.  i.  p.  33)  are  names  given  by  the 
Assamese  to  three  sections  of  the  same  tribe  in- 
habiting the  mountains  between  Assam  and  Tibet. 

1  Their  principal  crops  are  summer  rice  and  mustard,  maize, 
and  cotton,  sown  in  clearances  made  by  the  axe  or  hoe  in  the 
forest  or  in  the  jungle  of  reeds.  Their  villages,  usually  placed 
on  or  near  the  banks  of  rivers,  consist  of  a  few  houses  built  on 
platforms  raised  above  the  naked  surface  of  the  plain,  present- 
ing a  strong  contrast  to  the  ordinary  Assamese  village.  .  .  . 
Under  the  houses  live  the  fowls  and  pigs  which  furnish  out  the 
village  feasts,  and  the  more  prosperous  villages  keep  herds  of 
buffaloes  also,  though  these  people,  like  so  many  of  the  non- 
Aryan  races  of  Assam,  eschew  milk  as  an  unclean  thing' 
(Mackenzie,  op.  cit.  541). 

1.  Ethnology. — The  Daphlas  are  probably  con- 
nected with  the  great  Bodo  (q.v.)  or  Bara  race, 
which  includes  the  Kachari,  Kabha,  Mech,  Garo, 
and  Tippera  tribes,  and  they  are  by  origin  Tibeto- 
Burmans,  who  followed  the  Mon-Anam  from  N.W. 
China  between  the  waters  of  the  Yang-tse-kiang 
and  the  Ho-ang-ho  (Census  Report  Assam,  1901,  i. 
120).  Their  language  is  closely  related  to  that  of 
the  Aka,  Abor- Miri,  and  Mishmi  tribes. 

4  We  know  a  good  deal  about  Abor-Miri  and  Dana.  Robinson 
[JRASBe,  1851,  p.  131]  gave  us  grammars  and  vocabularies  of 
both  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  and,  to  omit  mention  of 
less  important  notices,  in  later  times,  Mr.  Needham  has  given  us 
a  grammar  of  the  former,  and  Mr.  Hamilton  one  of  the  latter ' 
(G.  A.  Grierson,  Census  Report  India,  1901,  i.  262  f.  ;  and  see 
E.  A.  Gait,  Assam  Census  Report,  1891,  i.  184). 

2.  Relations  with  the  British  Government. — 
The  independent  portion  of  the  tribe  has  long  been 
accustomed  to  make  raids  in  British  territory. 
Even  in  1910  it  was  found  necessary  to  send  an 
expedition  against  them.  This  is  due  not  so  much 
to  friction  with  the  British  authorities  as  to 
quarrels  between  the  independent  and  the  settled 
branches  of  the  tribe.  In  1872-3  one  of  these  out- 
breaks occurred  because  the  men  of  the  hills  claimed 
compensation  for  losses  of  life  believed  to  have 
been  caused  by  infection  introduced  from  the  plains. 
On  this  being  refused,  they  raided  British  territory 
and  captured  several  slaves  (Mackenzie,  31). 

3.  Religious  beliefs. — Much  information  regard- 
ing their  religion  has  been  collected  since,  in  1872, 
E.  T.  Dalton  gave  the  first  account  of  them 
(Descriptive  Ethnology  of  Bengal,  36) : 

'  I  never  heard  of  Dophla  priests,  but  Robinson  says  they  have 
priests  who  pretend  to  a  knowledge  of  divination,  and  by 
inspection  of  chickens '  entrails  and  eggs  declare  the  nature  of 
the  sacrifice  to  be  offered  by  the  sufferer  and  the  spirit  to  whom 
it  is  to  be  offered.  The  office,  however,  is  not  hereditary,  and 
it  is  taken  up  or  laid  aside  at  pleasure.  So  it  resolves  itself  into 
this,  that  every  man  can,  when  occasion  requires  it,  become  a 
priest.  Their  religion  consists  of  invocations  to  the  spirits  for 
protection  of  themselves,  their  cattle,  and  their  crops,  and 
sacrifices  and  thank-offerings  of  pigs  and  fowls.    They  acknow- 

1  The  origin  of  the  name,  which,  as  pronounced  in  the 
lakhimpur  District,  would  be  written  Domphild,  is  unknown. 


ledge,  but  do  not  worship,  one  Supreme  Being,  which,  I 
conceive,  means  that  they  have  been  told  of  such  a  Being,  but 
know  nothing  about  him.' 

During  the  Census  of  1881  (Report,  §  150  ft'.; 
Mackenzie,  54311'.)  it  was  ascertained  that  the 
Mikirs  and  Daphlas  worship  Yapum  and  Orom, 
the  latter  the  malignant  spirits  of  the  dead,  the 
former  a  sylvan  deity  or  demon,  who  suffices  for 
the  needs  of  everyday  life,  though  in  critical 
conjunctures  some  great  god  has  to  be  gained  over 
by  the  sacrifice  of  a  mithan  or  gayctl  (Bos  frontalis). 

'A  hill  Miri  told  me  how  he  had  once,  while  a  boy,  actually 
seen  a  Yapum.  The  character  of  this  god  is  that  he  lives  in 
trees,  and  all  the  beasts  of  the  forest  obey  him.  My  informant 
was  throwing  stones  in  a  thicket  by  the  edge  of  a  pool,  and 
suddenly  became  aware  that  he  had  hit  the  Yapum,  who  was 
sitting  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  in  the  guise  of  an  old  grey-bearded 
man.  A  dangerous  illness  was  the  consequence,  from  which 
the  boy  was  saved  by  an  offering  of  a  dog  and  four  fowls  made 
by  his  parents  to  the  offended  Yapum,  who  has  since  visited 
him  in  dreams '  (Mackenzie,  543). 

They  also  count  the  Sun  among  their  deities  ; 
but  their  great  god,  who  must  be  propitiated  by 
the  sacrifice  of  a  mithan,  is  Ui  or  W  I,  of  whom  no 
Daphla  cares  to  speak  much  for  fear  of  incurring 
his  displeasure.  His  character  may  be  guessed 
from  the  Assamese  equivalent  of  his  name,  Yom  or 
Yama,  the  Hindu  god  of  death  (ib.  544).  E.  A. 
Gait  (Census  Report  Assam,  1891,  i.  223)  adds  : 

'  The  general  name  for  God  is  Ui,  but  there  are  also  special 
names  for  each  particular  deity.  Most  of  their  gods  are 
inimical  to  men,  and  have  to  be  propitiated  by  sacrifices.  The 
chief  gods  are  Sonole,  the  god  of  heaven ;  Siki,  who  presides 
over  the  delivery  of  women  ;  Vogle  and  Lungte,  who  hurt  men  ; 
and  Yenpu,  who  injures  children.  Then  there  is  Yapum,  the 
god  of  trees,  who  frightens  to  madness  people  who  go  into  the 
forest ;  Chili,  the  god  of  water ;  Prom,  the  god  of  diseases ; 
Sotu,  the  god  of  dumbneBS  ;  and  numerous  others.  There  are 
a  few  beneficent  deities,  such  as  Pekhong,  the  god  of  breath, 
anil  Yechu,  the  goddess  of  wealth.  To  all  these  gods,  sacrifices 
are  offered.  When  a  person  is  ill,  a  sorcerer  (deondic)  is  called 
in,  and  chants  an  incantation  in  a  loud  singsong  voice,  which 
he  sometimes  keeps  up  till  he  works  himself  up  into  a  frenzy  of 
excitement.  The  Daflas  believe  in  a  future  life,  but  cannot  say 
much  about  it,  except  that  they  expect  to  cultivate  and  hunt 
there.  The  dead  are  buried  in  a  sitting  position,  and  a  small 
shed  is  put  up  over  the  grave  ;  in  it  rice  and  drink  are  placed, 
and  a  fire  is  kept  burning  for  five  days.  The  mourners  sacrifice 
fowls,  pigs,  and  sometimes  mithun,  the  blood  of  which  is 
sprinkled  over  the  grave ;  the  flesh  they  eat  themselves.' 

B.  C.  Allen  (Census  Report  Assam,  1901,  i.  46  ft.) 
gives  an  account  of  similar  beliefs  among  the  allied 
tribes  of  this  group — the  creation  legends  of  the 
Mikirs  and  Garos,  and  the  conception  of  the  other 
world  held  by  the  Miris,  Mikirs,  and  Garos. 

Literature.— E.  T.  Dalton,  Descriptive  Ethnology  of  Bengal, 
Calcutta,  1872 ;  A.  Mackenzie,  Bist.  of  the  Relations  of  the 
Government  with  the  Hill  Tribes  of  the  N.E.  Frontier  of  Bengal, 
Calcutta,  1884  ;  Reports  of  the  Census  of  Assam,  1881,1891,1901 ; 
B.  C.  Allen,  Gazetteers  of  the  Lakhimpur  and  Darrang  Districts, 
Calcutta,  1905.  W.  CROOKE. 

DARDS. — The  Dards  are  an  Aryan  race  in- 
habiting the  country  round  Gilgit,  between  Kashmir 
and  the  Hindu  Kush,  and  down  the  course  of  the 
Indus  to  near  where  it  debouches  on  the  plains. 
Colonies  of  the  tribe  are  also  found  farther  east  in 
Baltistan,  where  they  are  known  as  Brokpas,  or 
Highlanders.  Along  with  the  Khos  of  Chitral 
and  the  Hindu  Kush  Kafirs  of  Kafiristan,  Dards 
are  classed  by  the  present  writer  as  descendants 
of  the  PUdchas,  or  '£2/xo<f>tiyoi  of  Sanskrit  writers. 
This  is  not  accepted  by  all  scholars,  but  no  alterna- 
tive has  hitherto  been  suggested.  Although  of 
Aryan  origin,  their  language  cannot  be  classed  as 
either  Indian  or  Iranian,  having  issued  from  the 
parent  stock  after  the  former  branch  had  emigrated 
towards  the  Kabul  Valley,  but  before  the  typical 
characteristics  of  Iranian  speech  had  become  fully 
developed.  They  are  mentioned  by  Herodotus  (iii. 
102-105),  though  not  referred  to  by  their  present 
name.  On  the  other  hand,  Sanskrit  writers  knew 
them  as  Daradas,  and  they  are  the  Derdai  ot 
Megasthenes  and  Strabo,  theDaradrai  of  Ptolemy, 
and  the  Dardae  of  Pliny  and  Nonnus.  Most  oi 
the  Dards  belong  to  the  tribe  of  Shins,  whose 
headquarters   may  be  taken  as  Gilgit,  and  tlieii 


400 


DABDS 


language  is  either  Shina  or  some  closely  allied  form 
of  speech.  By  religion,  the  Dards  of  the  present 
day  are  nearly  all  Musalmans,  but  the  Brokpa 
colonies  in  Baltistan  profess  the  Buddhist  faith  of 
their  neighbours.  It  is  not  known  at  what  period 
the  Muhammadan  Dards  were  converted  to  Islam, 
but,  down  to  the  middle  of  last  century,  when  a 
reformation  was  carried  out  by  Nathu  Shah,  the 
Governor  of  Gilgit,  on  behalf  of  the  Sikhs,  it  held 
but  a  nominal  sway.  Even  after  Nathu  Shah's  time 
remains  of  the  old  jpre-Islamitic  beliefs  have  sur- 
vived, so  that  many  Dard  practices  are  very  different 
from  those  enjoined  on  tbe  followers  of  the  Qur'an. 
For  instance,  until  about  eighty  years  ago  the  dead 
were  burnt  and  not  buried,  and  this  custom  lingered 
on  sporadically  down  to  the  last  recorded  instance 
in  1877.  A  memory  of  it  still  survives  in  the  light- 
ing of  a  fire  by  the  grave  after  burial.  Instead  of 
considering  the  dog  as  unclean,  they  are  as  fond 
of  the  friend  of  man  as  any  Englishman.  The 
marriage  of  first  cousins,  which  is  frequent  among 
true  Musalmans,  is  looked  upon  with  horror  by 
the  purer  tribes  of  Shins  as  an  incestuous  union. 
Although  the  Muhammadan  lunar  calendar  has 
been  introduced,  an  ancient  solar  computation, 
based  on  the  signs  of  the  zodiac,  still  exists. 
According  to  Biddulph,  '  Islam  has  not  yet  [1880] 
brought  about  the  seclusion  of  women,  who  mix 
freely  with  the  men  on  all  occasions.  Young  men 
and  maidens  of  different  families  eat  and  converse 
together  without  restraint.'  The  levirate  custom 
has  a  strong  hold,  and  this  often  leads  to  two 
sisters  being  the  wives  of  the  same  man  simultane- 
ously, though  such  a  practice  is  forbidden  by 
Muhammadan  law. 

The  Dards  received  Muhammadanism  from  three 
directions.  From  the  south  (i.e.  Afghanistan) 
came  the  Sunnis,  and  that  branch  of  Islam  is  now 
prevalent  in  Chilas.  From  the  Pamirs  in  the 
north  came  the  Maula'I  sect  (famous  for  its  wine- 
bibbers),  and  this  doctrine  is  now  commonly  held 
north  of  Gilgit.  On  the  other  hand,  the  people 
round  Gilgit  and  to  the  south  are  mostly  Shl'ahs 
converted  from  Baltistan. 

On  the  Buddhist  Dards,  or  Brokpas,  of  East 
Baltistan  their  nominal  religion  sits  even  more 
lightly  than  on  their  Musalman  fellow-tribesmen 
to  the  west.  The  only  essential  Tibetan  practices 
which  they  have  adopted  seem  to  be  the  dress  of 
the  men  and  the  custom  of  polyandry.  The 
religious  ideas  of  the  Brokpas  were  examined  by 
Shaw  in  1876,  and  of  late  years  by  A.  H.  Francke, 
whose  researches  into  the  ancient  customs  and 
religion  of  the  neighbouring  Ladakh  are  well 
known.  The  information  gathered  from  these  two 
sources  agrees  closely  with  the  traces  of  the  ancient 
Shina  religion  observable  in  other  portions  of  the 
Dard  area,  and  from  the  whole  we  get  a  fairly  clear, 
if  incomplete,  idea  of  its  general  character. 

According  to  Francke,  the  origin  of  the  world 
is  believed  by  the  Brokpas  to  be  as  follows : i 
'  Out  of  the  Ocean  grew  a  meadow.  On  the  meadow 
grew  three  mountains.  One  of  them  is  called  "the 
White-jewel  Hill,"  the  second  "the  Red- jewel 
Hill,"  and  the  third  "the  Blue-jewel  Hill."  On 
the  three  mountains  three  trees  grew.  The  first 
is  called  "the  White  Sandal-tree,"  the  second 
"the  Bed  Sandal-tree,"  and  the  third  "the  Blue 
Sandal-tree."  On  each  of  the  trees  grew  a  bird, — 
"the  Wild  King  of  Birds,"  "the  House-hen,"  and 
"the  Black  Bird,"  respectively.' 

Francke  adds :  '  As  regards  the  system  of  colours,  we  are 
decidedly  reminded  of  the  gLing  chos,  or  pre-Buddhist  religion 
of  Tibet  (see  gLing  cnos).  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  the 
three  mountains  were  thought  to  exist  one  on  the  top  of  the 
other;  the  lowest  being  the  blue  mountain  and  tree  forming 
the  Under-world,  the  red  mountain  and  tree  being  in  the  middle 
and  representing  the  Earth,  and  the  uppermost  being  the  white 

1  Quoted  from  a  private  communication. 


mountain  and  tree  forming  the  Land  of  the  Gods.  But  in  other 
respects  the  story  of  the  origin  of  the  world  is  at  variance  with 
the  gLing  chos,  according  to  which  the  world  is  framed  out 
of  the  body  of  a  giant,  while  here  it  grows  out  of  the  water,  as  in 
Indian  legends.' 

Nothing  like  this  cosmogony  has  been  noted  in 
other  Shin  tracts,  and  it  may  be  that  it  has  been 
partly  borrowed  from  Tibet.  At  the  same  time  it 
may  be  noted  that  the  Klumo  or  Ndginls,  who  are 
prominent  characters  in  the  gLing  chos,  are  also 
met,  under  the  form  of  snakes,  in  Gilgit  tradition, 
and,  according  to  Leitner,  the  earth  is  there  known 
as  the  'Serpent  World." 

From  the  hymn  from  which  Francke  has  culled 
the  preceding  information  he  also  extracts  the 
following  two  names  of  deities,  Yandring  and 
Mandide  Mandeschen.  These  names  are,  at  any 
rate,  not  Tibetan,  and  are  therefore  probably  Dard. 
In  another  prayer,  the  name  Zhuni  occurs  as  that 
of  a  house-god.  Mummo,  which  properly  means 
'  uncle,'  stands  in  the  collection  of  hymns  for  the 
'  uncle  of  the  past,'  i.e.  the  '  forefather '  or  Adam  of 
the  race,  who  is  also  honoured  almost  like  a  god. 

Francke  mentions  water,  milk,  butter,  and 
flower  offerings  as  sacrifices,  and  also  burnt  offer- 
ings of  the  pencil-cedar  (see  below).  Sheep  and 
goats  are  also  offered  to  the  gods,  and .  in  one 
song — that  of  the  ibex  hunter — the  hunter  carries 
all  the  necessaries  for  the  offerings  along  with  him 
when  following  his  quarry,  and  after  the  lucky 
shot  they  are  at  once  offered  to  the  gods. 

Farther  west,  we  also  come  across  traces  of 
Buddhism.  A  rock-cut  figure  of  the  Buddha  is  still 
to  be  seen  in  a  defile  near  Gilgit,  and  throughout 
the  Gilgit  and  Astor  valleys,  as  well  as  elsewhere, 
there  can  be  found  ruined  chortens  (q.v.),  whose 
forms  can  even  now  be  distinctly  traced.  One  of 
the  Shin  festivals,  the  Taleni,  which  commemorates 
the  destruction  of  an  ancient  king  who  devoured 
his  subjects,2  seems  to  have  a  connexion  with  a 
similar  festival  among  the  Iranian  fire-worshippers 
of  the  Pamirs.  In  neither  case,  however,  can  we 
consider  such  remains  as  part  of  the  true  ancient 
Dard  religion.     They  are  just  as  exotic  as  Islam. 

The  practical  side  of  Dard  religion,  as  distinct 
from  speculative  theories  regarding  cosmogony 
and  the  like,  is  best  described  by  Shaw  in  his 
account  of  the  Brokpas  (p.  29  ff.),  which  fully 
agrees  with  the  information  derived  from  other 
sources.  The  real  worship  is  that  of  local  spirits 
or  demons,  much  like  the  cult  of  similar  beings  in 
the  neighbouring  Ladakh.  Closely  connected  with 
this  worship  is  a  kind  of  cedar  or  juniper  tree 
(Juniperus  excelsa),  called  in  Shina  chili,  and  by 
the  Brokpas  shukpa.  In  every  village  in  which 
Shins  are  in  a  majority  there  is  a  sacred  chili  stone, 
dedicated  to  the  tree,  which  is  still  more  or  less  the 
object  of  reverence.  Each  village  has  its  own  name 
for  the  stone,  and  an  oath  taken  or  an  engagement 
made  over  it  is  often  more  binding  than  when 
the  Qur'an  is  used.  Shaw's  account  of  the  local 
Brokpa  goddess  of  the  village  of  Dah  may  be  taken 
as  a  sample : 

'Her  name  is  Shiring-mo.  A  certain  family  in  the  village 
supplies  the  hereditary  officiating  priest.  This  person  has  to 
purify  himself  for  the  annual  ceremony  by  washings  and  fastings 
for  the  space  of  seven  days,  during  which  he  sits  apart,  not  even 
members  of  his  own  family  being  allowed  to  approach  him, 
although  they  are  compelled  during  the  same  period  to  abstain 
from  onions,  salt,  chang  (a  sort  of  beer),  and  other  unholy  food. 
At  the  end  of  this  period  he  goes  up  alone  to  the  rocky  point 
above  the  village,  and,  after  worshipping  in  the  name  of  the  com- 
munity the  deity  who  dwells  there  in  a  small  cairn,  he  renews 
the  branches  of  the  "shukpa"  (Juniperus  excelsa)  which  were 
placed  there  the  previous  year,  the  old  branches  being  carefully 
stowed  away  under  a  rock  and  covered  up  with  stones.' 

'.  .  .  Formerly  the  priest  used  to  be  occasionally  possessed 

1  Leitner,  Dardistan  in  1SC6, 1SS6,  and  189S,  p.  50. 

2  It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  all  over  the  PUacha  region 
there  are  traditions  pointing  to  ancient  cannibal  customs  which 
were  put  a  stop  to  by  some  hero  or  god.  The  Sanskrit  word 
PUacha  means  '  eater  of  raw  flesh.' 


DARDS 


401 


by  the  demon,  and  in  tbat  state  to  dance  a  devil-dance,  giving 
forth  inspired  oracles  at  the  same  time ;  but  these  manifesta- 
tions have  ceased  for  the  last  twelve  or  fifteen  years  [written  in 
1876].  The  worship  is  now  simply  one  of  propitiation  inspired 
by  fear,  the  demon  seeming  to  be  regarded  as  an  impersonation 
of  the  forces  of  nature  adverse  to  man  in  this  wild  mountainous 
country.  Sacrifices  of  goats  (not  sheep)  are  occasionally  offered 
at  all  seasons  below  the  rock,  by  the  priest  only,  on  behalf  of 
pious  donors.  They  talk  of  the  existence  of  the  demon  as  a 
misfortune  attaching  to  their  tribe,  and  do  not  regard  her  with 
any  loyalty  as  a  protecting  or  tutelary  deity.  In  each  house 
the  fireplace  consists  of  three  upright  stones  of  which  the  one 
at  the  back  of  the  hearth  is  the  largest,  18  inches  or  2  feet  in 
height.  On  this  stone  they  place  an  offering  to  the  demon 
from  every  dish  cooked  there,  before  the}'  eat  of  it.  They  also 
place  there  the  firstfruits  of  the  harvest.  Such  is  their  house- 
hold worship.' 

This  belief  in  demons  is  universal  over  the  Dard 
area.  They  are  called  Yach.  They  are  of  gigantic 
size,  have  each  only  one  eye,  in  the  centre  of  the 
forehead,  and,  when  they  assume  human  shape, 
may  be  recognized  by  the  fact  that  their  feet  are 
turned  backwards.1  They  can  walk  only  by  night, 
and  used  to  rule  over  the  mountains  and  oppose 
the  cultivation  of  the  soil  by  man.  They  often 
dragged  people  away  into  their  recesses,  but,  since 
the  adoption  of  the  Muhammadan  religion,  they 
have  relinquished  their  possessions,  and  only  occa- 
sionally trouble  the  believers.  Their  oath  is  by 
the  sun  and  moon,  and  they  are  not  invariably 
malevolent.  On  the  occasion  of  their  weddings 
they  borrow  the  property  of  mankind  for  their 
rejoicings,  and  restore  it  faithfully,  without  the 
lender  being  aware  of  the  loan.  On  such  occasions 
they  have  kindly  feelings  towards  the  human  race. 
The  shadow  of  a  demon  falling  on  a  person  causes 
madness. 

Fairies,  known  as  Barai,  are  also  common.  They 
are  as  handsome  as  the  demons  are  hideous,  and 
are  stronger  than  they.  They  have  a  castle  of 
crystal  on  the  top  of  the  mighty  mountain  of 
Nanga  Parbat,  which  has  a  garden  containing  only 
one  tree  composed  entirely  of  pearls  and  coral. 
Although  they  are  capable  of  forming  love-attach- 
ments with  men,  like  Lohengrin  they  have  a  secret, 
and  they  never  forgive  the  human  being  who  dis- 
covers it.  Death  is  the  only  possible  recompense 
for  the  indiscreet  curiosity.  They  sometimes  take 
the  form  of  serpents  (Nttgas  or,  feminine,  Naginis). 

While  the  shadow  of  a  demon  causes  madness, 
that  of  a  fairy  confers  the  gift  of  prophecy. 
Divination  is  still  practised,  in  spite  of  Muhamma- 
danism.  The  diviner,  or  Dainyal,  is  one  on  whom 
the  shadow  of  a  fairy  has  fallen  in  sleep.  When 
performing  his  or  her  office,  the  diviner  is  made  to 
inhale  the  smoke  of  burning  juniper  wood  till  he 
is  insensible.  When  he  revives,  the  neck  of  a 
newly  slaughtered  goat  is  presented  to  him,  and  he 
sucks  the  blood  till  not  a  drop  remains.  He  then 
rushes  about  in  a  state  of  ecstasy,  uttering  unin- 
telligible sounds.  The  fairy  appears  and  sings  to 
him,  he  alone  being  able  to  hear.  He  then  explains 
her  words  in  a  song  to  one  of  the  attendant  musi- 
cians, who  translates  its  meaning  to  the  crowd  of 
spectators. 

Amongst  miscellaneous  customs,  we  must  first 
of  all  mention  the  remarkable  abhorrence  enter- 
tained for  everything  connected  with  a  cow  (we 
have  already  remarked  the  fondness  for  dogs).  The 
touch  of  the  animal  contaminates,  and,  though  they 
are  obliged  to  employ  bullocks  in  ploughing,  the 
Dards  scarcely  handle  them  at  all.  They  employ 
a  forked  stick  to  remove  a  calf  from  its  mother. 
They  will  not  drink  milk  or  touch  any  of  its 
products  in  any  form,  and  believe  that  to  do  so 
causes  madness.  There  is  nothing  of  reverence  in 
this.  They  look  upon  the  cow  as  bad,  not  good, 
and  base  their  abhorrence  on  the  will  of  the  local 

1  So  also  in  India.    Compare  the  hoofs  of  the  European  devil 
and  the  Diahle  boiteux.     Whitley  Stokes  tells  of  an  Irish  legend, 
according  to  which  the  devil  could  not  kneel  to  pray,  as  his 
knees  were  turned  the  wrong  way. 
VOL.  IV. — 26 


gods.  Marriages  are  celebrated  with  much  cere- 
mony, for  an  account  of  which  the  reader  is  referred 
to  Biddulph  (p.  78  ff.).  We  trace  a  survival  of 
marriage  by  capture  in  the  bridegroom  setting  out 
for  the  bride's  house,  surrounded  by  his  friends  and 
equipped  with  bow,  arrow,  and  battle-axe.  An 
essential  part  of  the  dress  of  a  Shin  bride  is  a 
fillet  of  cowrie  shells  bound  round  her  head.  When 
the  bride  and  bridegroom  take  their  first  meal 
together,  there  is  a  scramble  for  the  first  morsel, 
as  whichever  eats  this  will  have  the  mastery  during 
the  future  wedded  life.  After  the  birth  of  a  child 
the  mother  is  unclean  for  seven  days,  and  no  one 
will  eat  from  her  hand  during  that  period.  Ordeal 
by  fire  is  still  practised.  Seven  paces  are  measured, 
and  a  red-hot  axe-head  is  placed  on  the  open  palm 
of  the  accused,  on  which  a  green  leaf  has  first  been 
spread.  He  must  then  deposit  the  hot  iron  at  the 
place  appointed  seven  paces  distant,  and,  should 
any  mark  of  a  burn  remain  on  his  hand,  it  is  a 
proof  of  guilt.  Magic  has  a  prominent  place  in 
Dard  ideas,  and  written  charms  are  in  great  request. 
They  are  even  attached  to  the  mane  and  forelock 
of  a  horse.  They  confer  courage  and  invulnera- 
bility. Certain  springs  are  supposed  to  have  the 
power  of  causing  tempests  if  anything  impure,  such 
as  a  cowskin,  is  cast  into  them. 

The  principal  festivals  are  as  follows  : — 

(1)  The  Nos,  in  celebration  of  the  winter  solstice.  The  word 
means  'fattening,'  and  refers  to  the  slaughtering  of  the  cattle, 
fat  after  the  grazing  on  the  pastures,  which  takes  place.  This 
is  necessary  because  the  pastures  have  become  covered  with 
snow,  and  only  sufficient  fodder  is  stored  to  keep  a  few  animals 
alive  through  the  winter.  On  the  second  day  the  Taleni,  already 
mentioned,  is  celebrated. 

(2)  The  Bazono,  in  celebration  of  the  commencement  of 
spring.  The  sacrifice  is  a  sheep,  which  must  be  lean  and  miser 
able.    The  word  means 'leanness.' 

(3)  The  Aiboi,  which  took  place  in  the  first  week  in  March, 
has  now  fallen  into  desuetude.  It  was  said  to  mark  the  time  for 
pruning  vines  and  the  first  budding  of_  the  apricot  trees.  In 
some  respects  it  resembled  the  Indian  Holl.  Prominent  features 
were  mock  fighting  amongst  the  men,  and  the  licensed  cudgel- 
ling of  men  by  women.  Its  cessation  is  due  to  the  Musalman 
reform  movement  of  Nathu  Shah. 

(4)  The  Ganoni  celebrated  the  commencement  of  the  wheat 
harvest,  and  is  still  kept  up.  At  dusk  on  the  evening  before 
the  festival,  a  member  of  each  household  gathers  a  handful  of 
ears  of  corn.  This  is  supposed  to  be  done  secretly.  A  few  of 
the  ears  are  hung  over  the  door  of  the  house,  and  the  rest  are 
roasted  next  morning  and  eaten  steeped  in  milk.  The  Dards  of 
the  Indus  Vallej'  below  Sazin  do  not  observe  this  festival. 

(5)  The  last  festival  of  the  year,  and  the  most  important,  is 
the  Chili,  which  formerly  celebrated  the  worship  of  the  juniper 
tree,  and  marked  the  commencement  of  wheat-sowing.  Within 
the  last  eighty  years  the  rites  connected  with  the  tree-worship 
have  ceased,  but  the  ceremonies  connected  with  sowing  are  still 
maintained.  Bonfires  of  chili  wood  are,  however,  still  lit,  and 
the  quantity  of  wheat  to  be  used  in  the  next  day's  sowing  is 
held  over  the  smoke. 

It  will  have  been  observed  how  frequently  the 
sacred  chili,  or  juniper  tree,  has  been  referred  to 
in  the  foregoing  pages.  In  former  years  the  worship 
of  this  tree  was  performed  with  much  ceremony, 
and  hymns  were  sung  in  its  honour.  In  prayers  to 
it  for  the  fulfilment  of  any  desire,  it  was  addressed 
as  '  The  Dreadful  King,  son  of  the  fairies,  who  has 
come  from  far.'  The  chili  stone,  at  the  entrance 
of  every  Shin  village,  has  already  been  mentioned. 
On  it  offerings  to  the  chili  were  placed,  and  from 
it  omens  were  deduced.  A  full  account  of  the 
ceremonies  connected  with  its  worship  will  be  found 
in  Biddulph  (p.  106 ff.). 

To  sum  up.  The  present  writer  has  met  in  none 
of  the  authorities  on  the  Dard  religion  any  refer- 
ence to  a  Supreme  Deity,  corresponding  to  the 
Kafir  Imra.  In  translations  from  Christian  scrip- 
tures, the  Musalman  word  Quda  has  to  be  used 
for  '  God.'  The  centre  of  the  worship  seems  to  be 
the  chili  tree,  a  mighty  son  of  the  fairies  ;  and  the 
whole  mountain  region  in  which  the  Dards  dwell 
is  peopled  by  spirits,  some  benevolent,  and  some 
malevolent,  probably  personifications  of  the  powers 
of  Nature,  who  exercise  a  constant  influence  on 
the  lives  of  the  human  beings  who  dwell  under 


402 


DARSANA-DARWINISM 


their  sway.  Most  of  the  worship  is  in  the  form  of 
propitiation  of  the  malevolent  spirits,  though  we 
occasionally  find  prayers  addressed  to  the  benevolent 
chili.  Over  the  whole  is  spread  a  complex  mist. 
We  see  traces  of  the  Magian  religion  of  Iran ;  of 
Buddhism,  left  behind  on  its  way  to  Central  Asia ; 
and,  in  modern  times,  Islam,  in  strong  possession. 
The  pure  Dard  religion  has  nothing  in  common 
with  any  of  them.  Attempts  have  been  made,  but 
in  the  opinion  of  the  present  writer  entirely  without 
any  justification,  to  connect  it  with  the  religions 
of  India,  and  (with  better  reason)  with  the  ancient 
gLing  chos  religion  of  Tibet.  It  is  a  pure  Nature- 
religion  of  an  agricultural  and  pastoral  people, 
dwelling  in  a  barren  land,  amidst  the  highest 
mountain  ranges  in  the  world.  The  languages  of 
the  Piiacha  people,  of  which  the  Dard  languages 
form  an  important  group,  are,  as  has  been  stated, 
something  between  Indian  and  Iranian,  and  one  of 
their  most  characteristic  marks  is  the  wonderful 
way  in  which  they  have  preserved  ancient  Aryan 
forms  of  speech  almost  unchanged  down  to  the 
present  day.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  Dard 
religion.  It  retains  many  of  the  characteristics 
of  the  oldest  form  of  Aryan  religion  with  which 
we  are  acquainted.  There  is  the  same  adoration 
of  a  special  plant  (in  the  Vedas  the  soma,  and 
amongst  the  Dards  the  chill),  and  the  same  wor- 
ship, mixed  with  terror,  of  the  personified  powers 
of  Nature. 

Literature. — F.  Drew,  The  Junvnwo  and  Kashmir  Terri- 
tories, London,  1875  ;  G.  W.  Leitner,  The  Languages  and  Races 
of  Dardistan,  Lahore,  1877,  also  the  same  writer's  Dardistan  in 
1S66,  1S86,  and  1B9S,  Woking,  no  date ;  J.  Biddulph,  Tribes  of 
the  Hindoo  Eoosh,  Calcutta,  1880  ;  R.  B.  Shaw,  '  Stray  Arians 
in  Tibet,'  JRASBe  (1878),  vol.  xlvii.  part  i.  p.  26  fi.;  A.  H. 
Francke,  Ladakhi  Songs  (privately  printed,  Leipzig),  4th  series 
(contains  Dard  songs,  including  a  cosmogony). 

George  A.  Grierson. 
DARKNESS.— See  Light  and  Darkness. 

DARIANA.— The  term  dariana,  the  literal 
meaning  of  which  is  '  seeing,'  '  sight,'  is  more 
usually  employed  in  Sanskrit  literature  with  a 
derivative  or  metaphorical  significance,  as  '  in- 
sight,'  '  perception,'  i.e..  mental  or  spiritual  vision. 
It  is  thus  at  once  expressive  of  one  of  the  most 
characteristic  and  fundamental  thoughts  of  Indian 
philosophy — the  meditative  and  mystical  attitude 
of  mind  which  frames  for  itself  an  idealistic  con- 
ception of  the  universe  ;  e.g.  Manu,  vi.  74  : 
1  He  who  is  possessed  of  true  insight  {darianasampanna)  is  not 

bound  by  deeds, 
But  the  man  destitute  of  insight  (dartanena  vihina)  is  involved 

in  the  cycle  of  existence.' 

The  word  is  also  used  of  the  vision  of  sleep,  a 
dream  or  dreaming,1  wherein  the  mind  perceives 
and  learns  independently  of  the  exercise  of  the 
bodily  senses. 

Thus  dariana  is  thought,  perception  in  general, 
the  application  of  the  mental  faculties  to  abstract 
conditions  and  problems ;  and  ultimately  denotes 
thought  as  crystallized  and  formulated  in  doctrine 
or  teaching — the  formal  and  authoritative  utter- 
ance of  the  results  to  which  the  mind  has  attained.2 
In  this  sense  it  is  practically  equivalent  to  iastra. 

As  a  technical  term,  dariana  is  applied  to  the  six 
recognized  systems  of  Indian  philosophy,  which 
give  many-sided  expression  to  Indian  thought  in 
its  widest  and  most  far-reaching  developments. 
These  form  the  six  darianas,  systems  of  thought 
and  doctrine  properly  so  called,  viz.  the  Purva- 
and  Uttara-mimariisa  (the  latter  more  usually 
known  as  the  Vedanta) ;  the  Sahkhya  and  Yoga  ; 
the  Nyaya  and  Vaiiesika.  Of  these,  the  first 
consists  mainly  of  explanation  and  comment  on  the 
ritual  texts  of  the  Veda,  while  the  second  expounds 
the  widely  known  speculative  and  idealistic  philo- 

1  e  r.  Hariv.  1285. 

2  e.g.  Mahdbhurata,  xii.  11045.  SastradarHn  is  one  who  has 
insight  into,  intuitive  perception  of,  the  meaning  of  the  Nostras. 


sophy  of  India.  The  third  and  fourth  are  nearly 
related  to  one  another ;  and  of  these  the  ancient 
Sahkhya  formulates  a  materialistic  theory  of  the 
universe,  which  the  Yoga — in  its  essential  elements 
equally  ancient — then  takes  up  and  interprets  in  a 
theistic  sense.  The  Nyaya  and  Vaiiesilca  are  not 
systems  of  philosophy  at  ail  in  the  ordinary  accepta- 
tion of  the  term  ;  the  former  treats  of  logic  and 
literary  criticism,  the  latter  of  natural  philosophy 
and  the  physical  constitution  of  the  universe.  Th6 
precise  date  at  which  these  systems  originated  or 
were  first  reduced  to  order  and  writing  is  unknown  ; 
they  represent,  however,  the  outcome  and  final 
residue  of  Indian  thought  and  speculation,  extend- 
ing probably  over  many  centuries. 

There  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  the  six  darianas 
contain  all  that  the  mind  of  ancient  India  con- 
ceived, or  to  which  these  early  thinkers  endeavoured 
to  give  expression.  It  would  seem  probable,  how- 
ever, that,  while  much  has  been  lost,  and  the  extant 
treatises  are  often  fragmentary,  enigmatic,  highly 
figurative,  and  difficult  of  interpretation,  there  has 
been  preserved  in  the  darianas,  and  in  the  tradi- 
tional and  literary  sources  upon  which  they  have 
drawn,  the  best  that  India  had  to  give  of  specula- 
tion and  thought  upon  the  problems  and  conditions 
of  life.1 

A  somewhat  similar  word  is  tarka,  '  investiga- 
tion,' 'inquiry,'  'discussion,'  which  also  in  course 
of  time  was  used  to  denote  the  science  or  system 
which  was  its  outcome  and  fruit.  It  was  then 
later  employed  in  the  same  manner  as  dariana, 
specifically  of  the  recognized  philosophical  systems. 
The  former  term,  however,  seems  never  to  have 
obtained  the  same  degree  of  acceptance  or  currency 
as  the  latter,  which  in  the  usage  of  writers  of  all 
periods  was  the  ordinary  and  appropriate  designa- 
tion of  the  six  systems  to  which  alone  orthodox 
rights  and  authority  were  secured. 

A.  S.  GEDEN. 

DARWINISM. — It  has  become  customary  to 

five  the  title  of  '  Darwinism '  to  that  particular 
evelopment  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution  which  is 
associated  with  the  name  of  Darwin  (1809-1882), 
and  which  began,  in  1859,  with  the  publication  in 
England  of  his  Origin  of  Species.  The  central 
feature  of  this  development  of  thought  has  been 
the  conception  of  evolution  as  the  result  of  Natural 
Selection  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  It  has 
caused  so  great  a  change  in  the  general  tendencies 
of  knowledge  that  Romanes  probably  did  not  ex- 
aggerate the  effects  when  he  described  them  to  be 
without  parallel  in  the  past  history  of  mankind. 
Nearly  all  the  departments  of  thought  related  to 
the  subject  of  religion  and  ethics  have  felt  the 
effects  of  the  revolution. 

At  first  sight  the  Origin  of  Species  accomplished 
nothing  in  itself  very  remarkable.  The  theory  of 
evolution  had  long  been  in  the  air.  While  the 
conception  of  continuous  development  in  the 
universe  had  come  down  to  us  from  the  Greeks, 
the  modernized  and  scientific  theory  of  it  had 
become  a  commonplace  of  knowledge  by  the  middle 
of  the  19th  century,  Kant's  nebular  hypothesis 
further  developed  by  Laplace  and  Herschel,  had 
familiarized  the  world  with  the  idea  of  development 
as  applied  to  the  physical  universe.  In  Geology, 
workers  like  Murchison  and  Lyell  had  brought 
home  to  men's  minds  the  same  conception  in  con- 
nexion with  the  history  of  the  earth.  Even  in  the 
biological  sciences  the  idea  of  continuous  de- 
velopment by  the  modification  of  existing  types 
was  strongly  represented  by  Lamarck  and  many 
other  distinguished  scientists.  But  before  Darwin 
all  these  separate  developments  lacked  vitality. 
In  the  last  resort  they  rested  largely  on  theory. 

1  For  the  literature  and  detailed  expositions  of  the  six  systems 
see  the  separate  articles  Vedanta.  etc. 


DARWINISM 


403 


In  particular,  the  idea  of  the  evolution  of  life 
by  gradual  modification  was  unsupported  by  any 
convincing  argument  drawn  from  facts  and  evi- 
dence furnished  by  the  existing  conditions  of  life. 
The  most  characteristic  position  was  that  which 
had  been  reached  in  Biology.  Controversy  turned 
upon  the  meaning  of  species.  These  were  held 
to  be  permanent  and  immutable.  While  it  was 
admitted  that  there  might  be  a  certain  amount  of 
small  variation  of  forms,  species  were  considered 
to  represent  special  acts  of  creation  at  various  times 
in  the  past  history  of  the  earth.  Among  the 
leading  representatives  of  the  biological  sciences, 
permanence  of  species  was  the  accepted  view. 
Down  to  the  publication  of  the  Origin  of  Species, 
said  Darwin, 

'  all  the  most  eminent  living  naturalists  and  geologists  dis- 
believed in  the  mutability  of  species.  ...  I  occasionally  sounded 
not  a  few  naturalists,  and  never  happened  to  come  across  a 
Bingle  one  who  seemed  to  doubt  about  the  permanence  of 
species  {Life  and  Letters,  ch.  ii.  [vol.  i.  p.  87  in  1887  ed.]). 

Lamarck's  theory,  by  which  he  accounted  for 
divergence  of  types  by  the  accumulation  of  the 
inherited  effects  of  use  and  disuse  of  organs,  was 
ridiculed.  Cuvier  had  become  the  representative 
of  prevailing  opinion,  according  to  which  the  past 
history  of  life  was  one  of  constant  cataclysms  and 
of  constantly  recurring  creations.  Finally,  this 
scientific  view  was  powerfully  reinforced  by  all  the 
indefinite  authority  of  general  and  popular  opinion, 
which  took  its  stand  on  a  literal  interpretation 
of  the  Hebrew  account  of  creation  in  six  days, 
contained  in  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis. 

It  was  into  these  intellectual  conditions  that  the 
doctrine  of  organic  evolution  by  Natural  Selection 
was  launched  by  Darwin  in  1859.  The  distinctive 
feature  of  the  doctrine  of  development  which  it  put 
forward  was  that  it  accounted  for  the  evolution  of 
life  by  the  agency  of  causes  of  exactly  the  same 
kind  as  are  still  in  progress.  It  exhibited  modifica- 
tion and  progress  in  life  as  the  result  of  the  process 
of  discrimination  always  going  on  in  the  struggle 
for  existence.  It  was  by  formulating  the  concep- 
tion of  this  kind  of  '  Natural '  Selection  as  the 
mechanism  by  which  the  transmutation  of  species 
is  effected,  and  then  by  supplying  in  the  Origin  of 
Species  an  enormous  and  well-organized  body  of  facts 
and  evidence  in  support  of  it,  that  Darwin  instantly 
converted  scientific  opinion  and  succeeded  in  carry- 
ing the  doctrine  of  evolution  towards  a  new  horizon. 

The  theory  of  the  mechanism  of  Natural  Selection 
formulated  by  Darwin  was  extremely  simple. 

'  There  is,'  he  said, '  no  exception  to  the  rule  that  every  organic 
being  naturally  increases  at  so  high  a  rate,  that,  if  not  destroyed, 
the  earth  would  soon  be  covered  by  the  progeny  of  a  single  pair  ' 
[Origin  of  Species,  ch.  iii.  [p.  79  in  1909  ed.]). 

This  tendency  to  increase  beyond  the  conditions 
of  existence  is  accompanied  by  an  inherent  tendency 
in  every  part,  organ,  and  function  of  life  to  vary. 

'As  many  more  individuals  of  each  species  are  born  than 
can  possibly  survive,  and  as,  consequently,  there  is  a  frequently 
recurring  struggle  for  existence,  it  follows  that  any  being,  if  it 
vary  ...  in  any  manner  profitable  to  itself,  under  the  complex 
and  sometimes  varying  conditions  of  life,  will  have  a  better  chance 
of  surviving,  and  thus  be  naturally  selected.  From  the  strong 
principle  of  inheritance,  any  selected  variety  will  tend  to  pro- 
pagate its  new  and  modified  form '  (ib.,  Introd.  [p.  5  in  1909  ed.]). 

This  is  the  Darwinian  doctrine  of  the  survival 
of  the  fittest.  It  presented  the  whole  succession 
of  life  as  a  theory  of  descent  from  simpler  forms, 
under  the  stress  of  the  process  of  competition  for 
the  conditions  of  existence. 

The  far-reaching  effect  produced  by  the  publica- 
tion of  the  Origin  of  Species  and  by  Darwin's  theory 
of  Natural  Selection  was  undoubtedly  due  to  two 
main  causes.  The  first  of  these  was  the  immediate 
illumination  which  it  threw  on  some  of  the  most 
difficult  problems  of  the  special  sciences  which  were 
most  closely  concerned.  This  has  been  often  dis- 
cussed, and  its  character  and  tendencies  are  now 
well    understood.      The    second    cause    was    the 


character  of  the  impression  which  the  doctrines 
produced  on  the  general  mind.  The  nature  of  this 
impression  is  much  less  clearly  understood.  It  is, 
however,  in  this  second  relationship  that  the  full 
and  more  lasting  significance  of  Darwinism  has  to 
be  appreciated. 

The  general  mind  almost  from  the  beginning 
perceived  with  sure  instinct,  and  far  more  distinctly 
than  the  representatives  of  the  special  sciences 
concerned,  the  reach  of  the  theories  to  the  estab- 
lishment of  which  Darwin  had  brought  such  a 
convincing  array  of  evidence.  It  appeared  to 
many  at  first  as  if  the  whole  scheme  of  order  and 
progress  in  the  world  was  now  presented  as  the 
result  of  a  purely  mechanical  process.  The  inter- 
position of  mind  or  of  Divine  agency  appeared  to 
be  excluded.  Man  himself  seemed  to  Be  deposed 
from  the  place  he  had  occupied  in  all  previous 
schemes  of  creation.  It  was  true,  indeed,  as  has 
been  pointed  out,  that  before  Darwin  the  idea  of  a 
continuous  development  in  the  physical  and  biologi- 
cal worlds  alike  had  inspired  speculations  in  many 
quarters ;  but  this  conception,  being  rejected  by 
current  opinion,  had  left  no  permanent  impression 
on  the  general  mind.  It  was  not  until  Darwin's 
work  appeared,  Sir  William  Huggins  affirmed  in 
his  Presidential  address  to  the  Royal  Society  in 
1905,  that  the  new  evidence  was  perceived  by 
scientific  opinion  to  be  overwhelming  in  favour  of 
the  view  that  man  is  not  an  independent  being,  but 
is  the  outcome  of  a  general  and  orderly  evolution. 

At  the  first  presentation,  therefore,  of  Darwin's 
theories  popular  attention  became  fixed,  with  an 
extraordinary  degree  of  concentration,  on  the 
nature  of  the  destructive  changes  which  the 
doctrine  seemed  to  involve  in  the  ideas  which  had 
hitherto  been  closely  associated  with  prevailing 
religious  beliefs.  The  most  familiar  ideas  of  the 
system  of  religion  which  had  for  generations  held 
the  Western  mind  seemed  to  have  had  their 
foundation  removed.  Instead  of  a  world  created 
for  man  in  six  days  of  twenty-four  hours  each,  men 
saw  a  history  of  development  stretching  away 
back  for  ages  and  aeons  into  the  past.  Instead 
of  a  being  standing,  by  special  creation,  independent 
and  alone,  as  he  had  previously  been  conceived, 
man  was  presented  now  as  but  the  last  link  in  a 
process  of  evolution.  With  Lyell's  extension  of 
the  conception  of  time  in  geology  and  Darwin's 
extension  of  the  conception  of  evolution,  the  old 
order  in  thought  seemed  to  have  been  swept  away. 
Sir  William  Huggins  (loc.  cit. )  graphically  describes 
the  revolution  as  it  appeared  to  a  contemporary 
from  the  standpoint  of  science  : 

'The  accumulated  tension  of  scientific  progress  burst  upon 
the  mind,  not  only  of  the  nation,  but  of  the  whole  intelligent 
world,  with  a  suddenness  and  an  overwhelming  force  for  which 
the  strongest  material  metaphors  are  poor  and  inadequate. 
Twice  the  bolt  fell,  and  twice,  in  a  way  to  which  history 
furnishes  no  parallel,  the  opinions  of  mankind  may  be  said  tx> 
have  been  changed  in  a  day.  Changed,  not  on  some  minor 
points  standing  alone,  but  each  time  on  a  fundamental  position 
which,  like  a  keystone,  brought  down  with  it  an  arch  of 
connected  beliefs  resting  on  long-cherished  ideas  and  prejudices. 
What  took  place  was  not  merely  the  acceptance  by  mankind 
of  new  opinions,  but  complete  inversions  of  former  beliefs, 
involving  the  rejection  of  views  which  had  grown  sacred  by 
long  inheritance.' 

The  new  doctrine  seemed,  in  short,  to  gather  up 
into  a  focus  the  meaning  of  a  number  of  develop- 
ments long  in  progress  and  revolutionary  in  their 
nature,  the  recognition  of  which  in  their  due  place 
and  importance  had  long  been  resisted  in  Western 
thought.  It  seemed  to  give  cumulative  expression 
to  intellectual  tendencies  which,  since  the  period 
of  the  Renaissance,  had  struggled  against  the  over- 
powering weight  of  accepted  and  often  intolerant 
religious  beliefs.  The  first  condition,  therefore, 
was  a  kind  of  intellectual  Saturnalia.  The  effects 
were  felt  far  and  wide,  at  almost  every  centre  of 
learning,  and  in  almost  every  department  of  thought. 


404 


DARWINISM 


philosophy,  and  religion.  Huxley  in  England, 
Kenan  in  France,  Haeckel  in  Germany,  were 
representatives  of  one  aspect  of  a  movement  of 
■which  Darwin  in  biology,  Tyndall  in  physics,  and 
Grant  Allen  in  popular  science  represented  another. 
Most  extravagant  conceptions  became  current  even 
in  circles  of  sober  and  reasoned  opinion.  Religious 
beliefs  were  said  to  have  been  so  far  shaken  that 
their  future  survival  was  assumed  as  the  object  of 
pious  hope  rather  than  of  reasoned  judgment.  They 
were,  according  to  Renan,  destined  to  die  slowly 
out,  undermined  by  primary  instruction  and  by 
the  predominance  of  a  scientific  over  a  literary 
education,  or,  more  certainly  still,  according  to 
Grant  Allen,  to  be  entirely  discredited  as  grotesque 
fungoid  growths  which  had  clustered  round  the 
thread  of  primitive  ancestor-worship. 

The  deepest  effects  of  the  movement  were  felt 
in  England  and  the  United  States,  and  this  for 
reasons  to  which  still  other  causes  contributed. 
When  Darwin  published  the  Origin  of  Species,  the 
resemblance  which  the  doctrine  of  Natural  Selec- 
tion, making  for  progress  through  the  struggle  for 
existence,  bore  to  the  doctrines  which  had  come  to 
prevail  in  business  and  political  life  was  recognized. 
Almost  every  argument  of  the  Origin  of  Species 
appeared  to  present  a  generalized  conception  of 
the  far-reaching  effectiveness  of  competition. 
Darwin  lifted  the  veil  from  life  and  disclosed  to 
the  gaze  of  his  time,  as  prevailing  throughout 
Nature,  a  picture  of  the  self-centred  struggle  of 
the  individual,  ruthlessly  pursuing  his  own  interests 
to  the  exclusion  in  his  own  mind  of  all  other 
interests  ;  and  yet  unconsciously  so  pursuing  them 
— as  it  was  the  teaching  of  the  economics  of  the 
day  that  the  individual  pursued  them  in  business 
— not  only  to  his  own  well-being,  but  to  the 
progress  and  order  of  the  world. 

It  soon  became  apparent  that  the  crudities  of 
conception  which  prevailed  in  such  inflamed  and 
excited  conditions  of  thought  were  carrying  men 
altogether  beyond  the  positions  which  the  doctrine 
of  evolution  involved.  It  also  became  gradually 
evident,  as  these  first  impressions  were  lived 
through,  that  the  acceptance  of  the  evolutionary 
faith  implied  conclusions  which  were  not  only 
different  in  kind,  but  more  significant,  more 
striking,  and  even  more  revolutionary — although 
in  quite  a  different  sense — than  those  which  the 
first  Darwinians  contemplated. 

Those  who  had  realized  the  depth  and  reality  of 
the  spiritual  hold  of  religion  on  the  human  mind, 
perceived  from  the  beginning  how  superficial  were 
judgments  like  that  quoted  from  Renan,  to  the 
effect  that  religious  systems  had  no  place  in  the 
future  development  of  the  race.  But  it  was  when 
the  subject  came  to  be  approached  in  the  light  of 
the  evolutionary  doctrine  itself  that  the  true 
nature  of  the  situation  became  apparent. 

The  Darwinian  doctrine  of  biological  evolution 
had  centred  in  the  principle  of  utility.  Every 
part,  organ,  and  function  had  its  meaning  in  the 
stress  out  of  which  types  and  races  had  come. 
Nothing  had  come  into  existence  by  chance,  or 
without  correspondence  with  environment.  The 
consistent  labour  of  all  the  first  Darwinians  had 
been  to  give  prominence  to  the  necessity  for  the 
establishment  and  reinforcement  of  this  —  the 
central  arch  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution  by 
Natural  Selection.  It  was  evident,  therefore,  that 
while,  on  the  one  hand,  the  sanctions  of  faith  and 
experience  must  remain  exactly  what  they  had 
always  been  for  the  religious  life,  the  concept  of 
revolutionary  nature  was  the  explanation  which 
the  doctrine  of  evolution  would  be  itself  bound  to 
give  of  the  phenomenon  of  religion  in  the  light  of 
its  own  central  principle.  What  was  the  meaning 
of  these  systems  of  religious  belief  which  had  filled 


such  a  commanding  place  in  the  social  evolution 
of  man?  To  dismiss  the  phenomena  as  merely 
meaningless  and  functionless  was,  the  present 
writer  pointed  out,  impossible  and  futile,  in  the 
face  of  the  teaching  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution. 
They  must  have  some  significance  to  correspond 
with  the  magnitude  and  the  universality  of  the 
scale  on  which  they  were  represented. 

As  observation  was  carried  from  primitive  man 
to  the  most  advanced  civilization,  the  importance 
of  the  subject  was  not  diminished  but  increased. 
The  history  of  social  development  in  its  highest 
phases  was  largely  the  history  of  a  group  of 
Western  peoples  who  have  been  for  many  cen- 
turies the  most  active  and  progressive  nations  of 
the  world.  The  civilization  of  these  peoples  was 
the  most  important  manifestation  of  life  known  to 
us,  first  in  effects  on  the  nations  included  in  it, 
and  now,  to  an  increasing  degree,  through  its  in- 
fluence on  the  development  of  other  peoples  in  the 
world.  This  group  of  Western  peoples  had  been 
held  for  thousands  of  years  in  a  system  of  belief 
giving  rise  to  ideas  which  have  profoundly  modified 
their  social  consciousness,  and  the  influence  of  which 
has  saturated  every  detail  of  their  lives.  These 
ideas  had  affected  the  development  of  the  Western 
nations  at  every  point,  and  had  filled  their  history 
with  the  intellectual  and  political  conflicts  to  which 
they  had  given  rise.  They  had  deeply  influenced 
standards  of  conduct,  habits,  ideas,  social  institu- 
tions, and  laws.  They  had  created  the  distinctive 
ethos  of  Western  civilization,  and  they  had  given 
direction  to  most  of  the  leading  tendencies  which 
are  now  recognized  to  be  characteristic  of  it  (cf. 
Civilization).  How  could  it  be  possible  to  dis- 
miss from  consideration  the  enormous  phase  of 
human  history  of  which  this  was  an  example,  as 
if  evolutionists  had  no  concern  with  the  causes 
which  had  produced  it  (cf.  Kidd,  Social  Evolution, 
ch.  i.)? 

Further  consideration,  therefore,  made  it  evident 
that,  if  the  theory  of  organic  evolution  by  Natural 
Selection  was  to  be  accepted  in  human  society,  it 
would  have  to  be  accepted,  like  any  other  principle 
in  Nature,  without  any  reservation  whatever.  It 
would  be  necessary,  accordingly,  to  seek  for  the 
function  of  religious  belief  in  the  evolution  of 
society  on  a  scale  proportionate  to  the  magnitude 
of  its  manifestations. 

Throughout  the  forms  of  life  below  human 
society,  the  stress  through  which  Natural  Selection 
operated  was  that  of  the  struggle  for  existence 
between  individuals.  But  in  human  history  the 
fact  upon  which  attention  had  to  be  concentrated 
was  that  we  were  watching  the  integration  of  a 
social  type.  It  was  the  more  organic  social  type 
which  was  always  winning.  The  central  feature 
of  the  process  was  that  it  rested  ultimately  upon 
mind,  and  implied  the  subordination  of  the  in- 
dividual, over  long  tracts  of  time,  to  ends  which 
fell  far  beyond  the  limits  of  the  individual's  own 
consciousness.  Correspondence  with  environment 
in  the  case  of  human  evolution,  therefore,  involved 
projected  efficiency.  '  It  was  a  process  of  mind. 
If  we  were  to  hold  the  process  of  evolution  as  a 
mechanical  one  with  no  spiritual  meaning  in  it, 
there  would  be  no  rational  sanction  whatever  for 
the  individual  to  subordinate  himself  to  it.  The 
race  was  destined,  therefore,  under  the  process 
of  Natural  Selection,  to  grow  more  and  more 
religious.  The  ethical,  philosophical,  religious,  and 
spiritual  conceptions  which  were  subordinating 
man  to  the  larger  meaning  of  his  own  evolution 
constituted  the  principal  feature  of  the  world's 
history,  to  which  all  others  stood  in  subordinate 
relationship. 

As  the  early  Darwinians  have  continued  to 
struggle  with  the  laws  and  principles  of  the  stress 


DAWUD  B.  'ALI  B.  KHALAP 


406 


of  existence  between  individuals  enunciated  in  the 
Origin  of  Species,  and  as  it  has  become  increasingly 
evident  that  the  application  of  the  law  of  Natural 
Selection  to  human  society  involves  a  tirst-hand 
consideration  of  all  the  problems  of  mind  and 
philosophy,  a  remarkable  feature  of  the  situation 
has  presented  itself.  This  has  consisted  in  the 
extremely  limited  number  of  minds  of  sufficient 
scope  of  view  and  training  to  enable  them  to 
deal  with  the  new  and  larger  problems  that  have 
arisen.  The  exponents  of  philosophy,  untrained 
in  the  methods  of  science  and  largely  unacquainted 
with  its  details,  have  necessarily  continued  to  be 
without  a  fully  reasoned  perception  of  the  enormous 
importance  of  the  Darwinian  principles  of  evolu- 
tion in  their  own  subject.  The  biologists,  on  the 
other  hand,  continuing  to  be  immersed  in  the  facts 
of  the  struggle  for  existence  between  animals,  have 
in  consequence,  on  their  part,  remained  largely 
unacquainted  with  the  principles  of  social  efficiency 
in  the  evolution  of  human  society.  The  dualism 
which  has  been  opened  in  the  human  mind  in  the 
evolution  of  this  efficiency  has,  in  the  religious 
and  ethical  systems  of  the  race,  a  phenomenology 
of  its  own,  stupendous  in  extent,  and  absolutely 
characteristic  of  the  social  process.  But  it  remains  a 
closed  book  to  the  biologist,  and  the  study  of  it  he 
is  often  apt  to  consider  as  entirely  meaningless. 
The  position  has,  therefore,  most  unusual  features. 

Darwin  made  no  systematic  study  of  human 
society.  But,  where  he  approached  the  subject 
in  the  Origin  of  Species,  it  was  to  disclose  the 
bewilderment  produced  on  his  mind  in  attempting 
to  apply  the  principles  of  the  individual  struggle 
for  existence  to  social  evolution.  He  seemed  to 
think  that  Natural  Selection  must  be  suspended 
in  civilization  : 

'We  civilized  men,'  he  said,  'do  our  utmost  to  check  the 
process  of  elimination  [of  the  weak  in  body  and  mind] ;  we 
build  asylums  for  the  imbecile,  the  maimed,  and  the  sick  ;  we 
institute  poor  laws ;  and  our  medical  men  exert  their  utmost 
skill  to  save  the  life  of  every  one  to  the  last  moment '  {Descent 
of  Man,  ch.  v.  [p.  168  in  1871  ed.J). 

Darwin  thus  exhibited  no  perception  of  the  fact 
that  this  sense  of  responsibility  to  life,  which  is 
so  characteristic  of  advanced  civilization,  is  itself 
part  of  the  phenomenology  of  a  larger  principle 
of  Natural  Selection.  That  the  deepening  of  the 
social  consciousness,  of  which  this  developing 
spiritual  sense  of  responsibility  to  our  fellow- 
creatures  is  one  of  the  outward  marks,  is  of 
immense  significance  as  characteristic  of  the 
higher  organic  efficiency  of  the  social  type  in  the 
struggle  for  existence  was  a  meaning  which  seemed 
to  escape  him. 

Alfred  Russel  Wallace,  in  approaching  the  study 
of  human  society  in  his  book  Darwinism  (1889), 
displayed  the  same  inability  to  distinguish  that 
it  is  in  relation  to  the  capital  problems  with  which 
the  human  mind  has  struggled  in  philosophy, 
ethics,  and  religion  that  we  have  the  phenomena 
of  Natural  Selection  in  social  evolution.  The 
qualities  with  which  priests  and  philosophers  are 
concerned,  he  asserted,  were  altogether  removed 
from  utility  in  the  struggle  for  existence  ;  and 
he  even  mistakenly  used  the  suggestion  as  an 
argument  in  support  of  religion.  Here  also  the 
fact  in  evidence  was  that  the  naturalist,  with  his 
mind  fixed  on  the  details  of  the  individual  struggle 
for  existence  as  it  takes  place  between  plants  and 
animals,  has  been  altogether  at  a  disadvantage, 
both  by  training  and  equipment,  in  attempting 
to  deal  with  the  laws  and  principles  of  social 
efficiency.  Huxley  reached  an  almost  equally 
characteristic  contradiction  in  the  Romanes  lecture 
delivered  at  Oxford  in  1893,  in  which  he  attempted 
to  make  a  distinction  in  principle  and  meaning 
between  the  social  process  and  the  cosmic  process, 
-Jtie  lesson  of  evolution,  like  the  lesson  of  religion, 


being,  of  course,  that  they  are  one  and  the  same. 
Sir  Francis  Galton,  one  of  the  last  and  greatest  of 
Darwin's  contemporaries,  recently  also  exhibited 
this  characteristic  standpoint  of  all  the  early 
Darwinians.  He  put  forward  claims  for  a  new 
science,  '  Eugenics,'  which  he  has  defined  as  a 
science  which  would  deal  with  all  the  influences 
that  improve  the  inborn  qualities  of  the  race,  and 
would  develop  them  to  the  utmost  advantage  by 
'scientific  breeding.'  The  list  of  qualities  which 
Galton  proposed  to  breed  from  included  health, 
energy,  ability,  manliness,  and  the  special  apti- 
tudes required  by  various  professions  and  occupa- 
tions. Morals  he  proposed  to  leave  out  of  the 
question  altogether  '  as  involving  too  many  hope- 
less difficulties.'  Here  once  more  we  see  the 
difficulty  with  which  the  naturalist  is  confronted 
in  attempting  to  apply  to  human  society  the 
merely  stud  -  book  principles  of  the  individual 
struggle  for  existence  as  it  is  waged  among  plants 
and  animals.  The  entire  range  of  the  problems 
of  morality  and  mind  are  necessarily  ignored. 
The  higher  qualities  of  our  social  evolution,  with 
all  the  absolutely  characteristic  phenomena  con- 
tributing to  the  highest  organic  social  efficiency, 
remain  outside  his  vision. 

We  are  as  yet  only  at  the  beginning  of  this 
phase  of  knowledge.  The  present  remarkable 
situation,  here  of  necessity  only  lightly  referred 
to,  in  which  the  biologists  and  the  philosophers 
l'emain  organized  in  isolated  camps,  each  with 
the  most  restricted  conception  of  the  nature  and 
importance  of  the  work  done  by  the  other  and 
of  the  bearing  on  its  own  conclusions,  cannot  be 
expected  to  continue.  One  of  the  most  urgent 
needs  of  the  present  time  is  a  class  of  minds  of 
sufficient  scope  and  training  to  be  able  to  cover  the 
relations  of  the  conclusions  of  each  of  these  sets 
of  workers  to  those  of  the  other  and  to  the  larger 
science  of  society.     See  also  art.  Evolution. 

Literature. — C.  Darwin,  Origin  of  Species,  Descent  of  Man; 
Life  and  Letters  of  Charles  Darwin,  ed.  F.  Darwin2,  Lond.  1887  ; 
A.  R.  Wallace,  Darwinism,  do.  1889 ;  B.  Kidd,  Social  Evolu- 
tion, Lond.  1894,  art.  'Sociology,'  in  £Br";  T.  H.  Huxley, 
Evolution  and  Ethics,  Lond.  1893.        BENJAMIN   KlDD. 

DASNAMIS.— See  Saivism. 

DAWUD  B.  'ALI  B.  KHALAF.— Dawud  b 
'All  b.  Khalaf,  called  al-Zahiri  (with  the  kunya  Abu 
Sulaiman),  a  jurist  celebrated  as  the  originator 
of  the  Zahiriyya  school  in  Muslim  theology,  was 
born  in  Kiifa,  A.H.  200  [  =  A.D.  815]  (or,  accord- 
ing to  other  authorities,  A.H.  202  [  =  A.D.  817]), 
of  a  family  belonging  to  Isfahan.  Among  the 
many  eminent  teachers  under  whom  he  studied 
in  his  youthful  travels  were  two  of  the  leading 
theologians  of  Islam,  viz.  Ishaq  b.  R&hawaih 
(tA.H.  233  [  =  A.D.  847])  of  Nlsabur,  with  whom 
he  enjoyed  personal  relations  of  the  most  intimate 
character,  and  Abu  Thaur  (Ibrahim  b.  Khalid)  of 
Baghdad  (tA.H.  240  [  =  A.D.  854]).  Having  com- 
pleted his  career  of  study,  he  settled  in  Baghdad, 
where  he  soon  established  a  great  reputation,  and 
began  to  attract  pupils  in  large  numbers.  His 
audience,  in  fact,  commonly  numbered  about  400, 
and  included  even  scholars  of  established  repute. 
At  this  time  Baghdad  possessed  another  teacher 
of  renown,  Ahmad  b.  Hanbal  (tA.H.  241  [  =  A.D. 
855]),  the  Nestor  of  ultra-conservative  orthodoxy, 
whose  name  is  borne  by  the  Hanbalitic  party. 
Dawud  sought  to  come  into  friendly  relations  with 
Ahmad,  but  all  his  advances  were  repelled,  as  he 
lay  under  the  suspicion  of  having  affirmed,  while 
at  Nlsabur,  that  the  Qur'an  was  a  created  work — 
a  doctrine  which  Ahmad  had  attacked  with  great 
vigour  and  at  heavy  personal  cost.  It  was  even 
said  that  Dawud  had  been  punished  for  his  error 
by    Ishaq    b.    Rahawaih.      Though    Dawfld    met 


406 


DE^i  MATRES 


these  allegations  with  a  distinct  denial,  Ahmad 
still  refused  to  receive  him ;  nor  was  the  strain 
relieved  by  the  fact  that  the  system  promulgated 
by  Dawud  coincided  in  many  respects  with  that  of 
Ahmad,  and  was  even  fitted  to  lend  it  support. 

Although  Dawud,  in  his  travels  as  a  student, 
had  applied  himself  eagerly  to  the  study  of  the 
Hadith,  '  prophetic  tradition,'  he  has  no  outstand- 
ing reputation  as  an  authority  on  that  subject. 
In  point  of  fact,  he  is  said  to  have  given  currency 
to  only  one  prophetic  dictum  of  note,  which  came 
to  be  associated  with  his  name  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  his  son,  Abu  Bakr  Muhammad,  a 
well-known  bel  esprit  of  his  day.  The  saying  is 
as  follows :  '  He  who  loves  and  pines  and  hides 
(his  torment),  and  dies  thereof,  is  to  be  regarded  as 
a  martyr.'  As  a  teacher  of  jurisprudence,  on  the 
other  hand,  Dawud's  influence  was  enormous,  and 
here  he  ranks  as  the  founder  of  a  distinct  school. 
He  allied  himself  with  the  system  of  the  Imam, 
al-Shah'i,  for  whom  he  manifested  an  extra- 
ordinary reverence,  and  to  whose  high  qualities 
(manaqib)  he  devoted  two  of  his  books.  But,  while 
Dawiid  found  his  starting-point  in  the  system  of 
Shafi'I,  he  at  length  developed  a  new  method  in 
the  deduction  of  sacred  law — a  method  which, 
in  its  results,  diverged  from  that  of  his  master  in 
the  most  pronounced  way,  and  at  the  same  time 
brought  its  author  into  collision  with  the  uni- 
versally received  views  of  Muslim  jurisprudence. 
According  to  the  prevailing  doctrine,  the  bases  of 
juristic  deduction  were  (1)  the  ordinances  attested 
by  the  Qur'an  ;  (2)  those  which  had  the  support  of 
tradition;  (3)  the  consensus  ('ijma')  of  recognized 
authorities ;  and  (4)  the  conclusions  established  by 
speculative  reasoning  from  analogies  (qiyas),  and 
by  deduction  of  the  ratio  legis  ('illat  al-shar) 
from  given  ordinances.  In  cases  where  positive 
injunctions  derived  from  the  first  three  sources 
proved  inadequate,  the  reflective  insight  (ra'y, 
opinio  prudentium)  involved  in  the  fourth  was 
regarded  as  valid  ground  for  juristic  reasoning. 
Dawud,  however,  denied  the  legitimacy  of  this 
last-mentioned  source,  i.e.  the  ra'y,  and  all  that  it 
implied,  as  also  of  ali  inquiry  into  the  reasons  of 
the  Divine  laws  and  the  analogical  arguments 
founded  thereon.  The  only  sources  of  juristic 
deduction  which  he  recognized  were  the  positive, 
or,  as  he  calls  them,  the  'evident'  (zahir),  i.e.  the 
Qur'an  and  Tradition.  As  for  the  consensus,  he 
restricted  it  to  the  demonstrable  'agreement  of 
the  companions  of  the  prophet '  (HJma  al  sahaba), 
assigning  no  more  precise  limits  to  the  scope  of 
this  factor.  In  thus  running  counter  to  the  pro- 
cedure of  the  dominant  schools,  Dawud  found 
himself  in  alliance  with  the  extreme  section  of  the 
party  known  as  the  ashab  al-hadith  ( '  traditional- 
ists') — in  contrast  to  the  ashab al-ra'y  (' speculative 
j  urists '), — and  became  the  founder  of  the  Zahiriyya 
school,  which  is  accordingly  also  called  the  madh- 
hab  Dawud.  It  is  true  that  he  brought  himself 
to  the  point  of  conceding  the  admissibility  of  the 
'  obvious  analogy '  (qiyas  jali)  plainly  indicated  by 
positive  injunctions,  but  only  as  a  last  resource. 
As  a  preliminary  of  delivering  judgment,  moreover, 
he  demanded  an  independent  investigation  of  tra- 
dition, and  deprecated  a  mechanical  adherence  to 
the  established  doctrine  of  a  master  or  a  school 
(taqlid).  '  The  automatic  repetition  of  the  teach- 
ings of  one  who  is  not  infallible  is  pernicious,  and 
shows  blindness  of  judgment.'  '  Out  upon  him 
who,  having  a  torch  (i.e.  tradition)  wherewith  he 
may  light  his  own  way,  extinguishes  his  torch, 
and  moves  only  by  another's  help.'  Men  should 
not  blindly  follow  any  human  authority,  but 
should  examine  the  sources  for  themselves. 

Of  Dawud's  writings,  a  list  of  which  is  given  in 
the  Kitab  al-Fihrist,  nothing  is  now  extant,  but 


it  would  be  possible  to  reconstruct  his  doctrines 
from  quotations  in  later  literature.  Biographical 
writers  are  at  one  in  extolling  the  piety  and 
sincerity  of  his  character,  and  his  abstemious 
mode  of  life.  His  fame  spread  far  beyond  the 
confines  of  his  domicile,  and  from  the  furthest 
limits  of  the  Muhammadan  world  those  who  were 
perplexed  with  theological  problems  came  to  him 
for  light.  He  died  in  Baghdad  in  A.H.  270  [  =  A.D. 
883].  Vast  as  his  influence  was,  however,  his 
system,  which,  owing  to  its  limited  scope,  did 
not  adequately  meet  the  requirements  of  juristic 
practice,  failed  to  gain  a  firm  footing  in  public 
life.  Numerous  Muslim  scholars  associated  them- 
selves with  it,  but  their  adherence  was  largely 
personal  and  theoretical,  and,  except  in  a  single 
instance,  the  system  never  attained  an  authori- 
tative position  in  the  official  administration  of 
justice.  Its  solitary  success  in  this  respect  was 
achieved  in  the  empire  of  the  Almohads  in  Spain 
and  North- West  Africa,  the  founders  of  which, 
repudiating  all  adherence  (taqlid)  to  particular 
schools,  held  that  the  appeal  to  the  traditional 
sources  was  the  only  permissible  procedure.  The 
history  of  Muslim  learning  down  to  the  9th  cent. 
A.H.  contains  the  names  of  famous  adherents  of 
the  Zahiristic  principle  in  many  different  countries. 
The  most  important,  and,  in  a  literary  sense,  the 
most  eminent,  of  these  was  the  valiant  Andalusian, 
Ibn  Hazm,  "Ali  b.  Ahmad,  who  expounded  the 
Zahiristic  method  in  his  works,  and  applied  it  not 
only  to  the  jurisprudence  of  Islam,  but  to  its 
dogmatic  theology  as  well. 

Literature.  —  Taj  al-din  al-Subki,  Tabaqdt  aZ-ShajViyya  , 
(Cairo,  1324),  ii.  42-48  (biography  of  Dawiid);  I.  Goldziher, 
Die  Zahiriten,  ihr  Lehrsystem  u.  ihre  Geschichte,  Leipzig, 
1884 ;  for  the  Alinohadic  movement,  the  same  author's  Intro- 
duction to  Le  Livre  de  Mohammed  ibn  Toumert,  Mahdi  des 
Almohades,  Algiers,  1903,  pp.  39-64.  I.  GOLDZIHER. 

DAY  OF  ATONEMENT.— See  Festivals 
(Hebrew). 

DEACON,  DEACONESS.— See  Ministry. 

DEAD.— See  Ancestor-worship,  Death  and 
Disposal  of  the  Dead,  State  of  the  Dead. 

DE/E  MATRES.— The  Dece  Matres  are  divini- 
ties of  uncertain  character  and  function,  whose 
worship  is  found  chiefly  in  the  Celtic  and  German 
provinces  of  the  Koman  Empire  (cf.  art.  Celts,  vol. 
lii.  pp.  280,  286,  and  passim).  How  far  they  are  to 
be  identified  or  associated  with  so-called  '  Mother- 
goddesses '  among  other  peoples  is  a  matter  of 
dispute  and  will  be  discussed  later.  But  there 
is  evidence  on  Celtic  and  Germanic  territory,  and 
to  some  extent  outside  these  limits,  of  a  fairly 
definite  cult  of  goddesses  called  usually  Matres  or 
Matronw,  and  depicted  in  accordance  with  well- 
established  conventions.  Knowledge  of  them  is 
derived  entirely  from  inscriptions  and  monuments, 
of  which  a  large  number  (over  four  hundred  in- 
scriptions) have  been  preserved ;  apparent  survivals 
of  their  worship  have  been  detected  in  the  beliefs 
and  traditions  of  the  Celts  and  Germans  of  later 
ages ;  but  no  certain  reference  to  them  has  been 
found  in  ancient  literature.  There  is  no  reason 
for  applying  to  them,  as  is  sometimes  done,  a 
passage  cited  from  Varro  in  the  de  Civ.  Dei  of  St. 
Augustine  (vii.  3,  '  Unde  dicit  etiam  ipse  Varro, 
quod  diis  quibusdam  patribus  et  deabus  matribus, 
sicut  hominibus,  ignobilitas  accidisset ').  Varro's 
reference  is  probably  general,  and  certainly  the 
context  in  St.  Augustine  does  not  suggest  an  appli- 
cation to  the  particular  divinities  in  question. 

The  inscriptions  discovered  up  to  the  year  1887  were  published 
and  classified  by  Ihm  in  his  very  important  monograph  on  the 
Matronankultus  (cited  here  by  this  short  title  ;  for  exact  refer- 
onces.  see  the  Literature  at  end  of  article).    Additional  material 


DE^E  MATRES 


407 


was.  included  in  Ihm'e  art.  in  Roscher  (s.v.  'Matres'),  and  later 
discoveries  will  be  taken  account  of,  together  with  the  results 
of  later  discussion,  in  the  course  of  this  article. 

The  name  of  the  divinities  appears  in  three 
forms  in  the  inscriptions:  Matres,  Matronm,  and 
*  Matrm  (the  last  being  the  nominative  case 
inferred  from  the  datives  Matris  and  Matrabus). 
A  fourth  form  *Mairce  is  held  by  some  scholars  to 
be  preserved  in  live  inscriptions,  but  the  evidence 
for  it  is  in  no  case  clear.  Three  of  the  inscriptions 
in  question  are  lost,  and  in  the  other  two — a  stone 
altar  at  Dijon  and  a  relief  at  Metz — the  readings 
are  very  uncertain.1  The  form  *  Matrce  may  be 
due  to  Celtic  influence,  an  old  Celtic  nominative 
singular  *  Matar  having  been  latinized  as  *  Matra 
and  a  dative  plural  *  Matrabus  developed  from  it, 
perhaps  with  the  aid  of  Celtic  datives  in  b  (cf. 
Matronenkultus,  p.  10).  But,  in  view  of  such 
analogous  Latin  forms  as  nymphabus,  fatabus, 
filiabus,  natabus,  etc.,  the  Celtic  explanation  can- 
not be  deemed  necessary.2  In  the  case  of  the 
dative  plural  Matris,  the  parallel  formation  heredis 
(=heredibus)  has  been  similarly  used  as  evidence 
against  the  theory  of  Celtic  influence.8  Whatever 
be  the  explanation  of  the  Latin  words  in  question, 
there  is  one  inscription  which  is  generally  held  to 
show  a  Celtic  (Gaulish)  form  of  the  name.  This  is 
preserved  in  the  Museum  at  Ntmes  and  reads,  in 
Greek  letters,  Marne/So  Na/tau<ri/co/3o  fiparovoe.  The 
epithet  NauavoiKapo  is  almost  certainly  local  =  ' to 
the  Nemausian  Mothers ' ;  but  the  tr.  of  fiparovSe  is 
more  doubtful.  If  it  contains  the  root  of  the  Ir. 
brath,  'judgment,'  it  may  well  mean  esc  judicio, 
and  be  equivalent  to  the  common  formula  ex 
imperio.' 

Matres  and  Matronm  appear  to  be  synonymous, 
though  their  geographical  distribution,  as  will  be 
seen  later,  is  somewhat  different.  They  even  occur 
as  equivalents  on  a  single  inscription  :  '  Matribus 
sive  Matronis  Aufaniabus  domesticis'  [Matronen- 
kultus, no.  207) ;  and  the  same  epithet  is  some- 
times found  in  combination  with  both  terms  (cf. 
'Matribus  [V]acall[i]neis '  [ib.  no.  215]  with 
'  Matronis  Vacal(l)nehis '  [ib.  nos.  224,  225,  227] ). 
But  such  close  association  of  the  two  is  exceptional, 
and  certain  distinctions  have  been  pointed  out  in 
their  use.  Ihm  (Roscher,  p.  2466)  shows  that 
Matres  is  accompanied  by  epithets  of  greater 
veneration  ('  augustae,' '  deae ').  Hild  (Daremberg- 
Saglio,  iii.  1636)  tries  to  make  out  a  difference 
in  the  fact  that  men  pray  oftener  to  Matres,  and 
women  to  Matronm  ;  but  his  figures  can  hardly 
be  regarded  as  significant.  Roach-Smith  (in  his 
Collectanea  Antigua,  vii.  [1878-80]  213)  argues  that 
the  Matronce  were  concerned  primarily  with  the 
feminine  principle  in  Nature,  with  maternity  and 
offspring,  while  the  Matres  presided  over  the 
fruits  of  the  earth  and,  in  general,  over  public 
and  private  business.  None  of  these  distinctions, 
however,  is  really  established  as  valid.  It  is  perhaps 
a  significant  fact,  which  is  pointed  out  by  Haver- 
field  (Arch.  Ml.  xv.  320),  that  Matronm  does  not 
occur  in  any  land  where  the  cult  is  demonstrably 
imported  ;  and  the  name  may  be  really  the  Celtic 
Matrona,  which  survives  in  the  French  Marne  and 
a  few  other  names  of  places,  rather  than  the  Lat. 
Matrona.      Since  there  is  no  evidence  outside  of 

'  In  Bupport  of  *Mairce,  see  Hirschfeld,  CIL  xiii.  no.  6478 ; 
against  it,  Ihm,  Matronenkultus,  p.  12  ff. 

^  See  Haverfield,  Archceol.  [Mliana,  xv.  [1892]  32.  Sommer, 
Bandbuch  der  lateinischen  Laut-  u.  Formenlehre,  Heidelberg, 
1902,  p.  360,  explains  such  forms  by  the  analogy  of  deabus. 
Matronabus  also  occurs  (see  Nolizie  degli  schiavi,  1897,  p.  6). 

3  See  Siebourg,  Westdeutsche  Zeitschrift,  1888,  p.  115,  and 
Bonner  Jahrbiicher,  cv.  [1900]  86. 

4  See  Thurneysen,  Bandbuch  des  Alt-Irisohen,  Heidelberg, 
1909,  p.  190,  and  Rhys,  '  Celt.  Inscr.  of  France  and  Italy,'  Proc. 
Brit.  Acad.  ii.  [1905-6]  291.  It  should  be  said  that  some 
scholars  do  not  hold  the  inscription  to  be  Celtic.  D'Arbois  de 
Jubainville  {RCel,  1S90,  p.  250)  explains  it  as  Latin;  and  Ereal 
(RA  xxxi.  [1897]  104)  as  Italic.  The  latter  scholar  translates 
0paTou5e  by  uierito  de,  comparing  Oscan  brateis. 


inscriptions,  the  quantity  of  the  o  must  be  re- 
garded as  uncertain  ;  and,  if  it  was  pronounced 
long,  as  is  likely  enough,  this  might  simply  mean 
that  the  familiar  Latin  word  had  been  substituted 
for  the  Celtic.  The  substitution  would  have  been 
entirely  natural,  and  the  two  words  would  have 
come  to  be  regarded  as  identical.  The  fact  that 
Matrdna  appears  regularly  in  the  singular,  whereas 
the  Matronm  are  named  in  the  plural  and  depicted 
in  groups,  might  show  a  divergent  development  of 
the  two  cults,  but  would  not  preclude  a  common 
origin.  Moreover,  there  is  some  doubt,  as  will  be 
shown  later,  whether  the  Matres  or  Matronce 
were  not  sometimes  conceived  and  represented 
singly.  Even  if  the  identification  of  Matronce 
with  Matrona  should  be  accepted,  it  would  not 
become  any  easier  to  make  a  distinction  between 
Matres  and  Matronce,  for  the  Celtic  (or  possibly 
pre-Celtic)  Matrona,  like  the  Latin,  appears  to  be 
a  derivative  of  the  simple  word  for  '  mother.'  The 
character  of  the  divinities  bearing  the  name 
Matrdna  is  also  quite  uncertain.1  On  the  whole, 
then,  Matres  and  Matronm  seem  to  be  equivalent 
in  sense,  and  neither  of  them  is  probably  Roman 
in  origin.  In  the  following  discussion  the  two 
words  will  be  used  interchangeably,  except  where 
a  distinction  is  explicitly  made  between  them. 

The  dates  of  the  monuments  to  the  Matres  or 
Matronm  range  all  the  way  from  the  time  of 
Caligula  (Matronenkultus,  no.  35)  to  that  of  Gordi- 
anus  (ib.  no.  361).  They  are  found  chiefly  in  Cis- 
alpine Gaul,  Gallia  Narbonensis,  Gaul  proper,  and 
Lower  Germany,  and  to  a  limited  extent  at  Rome 
itself,  in  Britain,  and  in  Spain.2  Those  at  Rome 
and  in  Britain  are  apparently  due  to  soldiers  or 
tradesmen,  and  do  not  prove  the  local  existence  of 
the  cult ;  and  the  same  may  be  true  of  the  few  in- 
scriptions preserved  on  the  Spanish  peninsula.  The 
latter,  however,  are  taken  by  d'Arbois  de  Jubain- 
ville as  evidence  that  the  Celtiberi  had  the 
worship  in  common  with  the  Gauls  ;  and  the  epithet 
'  Gallaicis '  favours  the  supposition.8  Still  more 
remote  provinces  are  brought  into  relation  with 
the  cult  by  the  inscriptions,  '  Matres  Pannoniorum 
et  Delmatarum,'  preserved  at  Lyons  (Matronen- 
kultus, no.  394),  and  'Matres  Afrae  Italse  Gallae,' 
preserved  at  York  (ib.  no.  348).  But  no  inscrip- 
tion to  Matres  or  Matronm  has  yet  been  found  in 
either  Africa  or  the  Illyrican  provinces  south  of 
the  Danube,  and  it  seems  probable  that  the  names 
indicate  simply  military  service  in  those  regions 
on  the  part  of  the  dedicants  or  of  their  soldiers.4 
Monuments  are  commonest  on  the  west  bank  of 
the  Rhine  and  in  the  vicinity  of  Lyons ;  and  the 
tribes  among  whom  the  worship  chiefly  flourished 
appear  to  have  been  the  Vocontii,  Arecomici, 
Allobroges,  Sequani,  Lingones,  and  Ubii.  There 
are  almost  no  traces  of  it  in  Aquitania  or  western 
Narbonensis,  and  few  in  the  region  east  of  the 
Rhine.6  The  geographical  distribution  of  the  names 
is,  in  general,  as  follows :  Matronm  seems  to  be 
the  only  form  in  Cisalpine  Gaul,  though  some 
abbreviations  are  doubtful,  and  it  is  the  prevailing 
form  in  Germany;  *Matrm  occurs  chiefly  near  Lyons 

1  The  comparison  between  Matronce  and  Matrdna  is  old. 
See,  for  example,  Pictet  in  RCel  ii.  8.  On  the  occurrences  of 
Matrdna,  see  Holder,  Altcelt.  Sprachschatz,  s.v.  For  the  view 
that  it  is  Ligurian,  not  Celtic,  compare  H.  d'Arbois  de  Jubain- 
ville, Premiers  habitants  de  V Europe 2,  Paris,  1889,  ii.  169,  and 
G.  Dottin,  Manuel  pour  servir  a  V&tude  de  I'antiq.  celtique, 
Paris,  1906,  p.  240. 

2  For  a  map  showing  their  distribution,  see  Haverfield's  art. 
in  Arch.  j£l.  xv. 

8  See  RCel  xiv.  [1893]  376 ;  also  J.  Leite  de  Vasconcellos, 
ReligiSes  de  Lusitania,  ii.  [1905]  176  ff. 

4  See  Ihm,  Bonner  Jahrb.  xcii.  [1892]  258.  and  Matronen- 
kultus, p.  120  ff.,  for  inscriptions  to  '  Campestres,'  'Trlviae,' 
etc.,  in  Africa  and  the  Danube  provinces. 

5  On  certain  evidences  recently  pointed  out  for  such  worship 
in  the  Palatinate,  see  Griinenwald,  Westdeutsche  Zeitschrift, 
1906,  p.  239  ff. 


408 


BBM  MATRES 


and  in  Gallia  Narbonensis ;  and  Matres  is  common 
in  Gaul  proper  and  in  Britain. 

So  far  as  we  have  direct  evidence,  then,  con- 
cerning the  worship,  it  belongs  to  the  Celtic  and 
Germanic  provinces  of  the  Koman  Empire,  the 
chief  points  of  radiation  being  Gaul  and  Lower 
Germany.  With  regard  to  its  origin  and  early 
history  there  is  difference  of  opinion.  The  theory 
that  it  was  a  general  Indo-Germanic  institution 
(set  forth  most  fully  by  Becker,  Kuhn's  Beitrage, 
iv.  [1868]  146  ff.)  is  rejected  by  most  recent  investi- 
gators, though  the  relation  of  this  to  other  cults  of 
Mother-goddesses  among  various  peoples  presents 
obscure  problems  which  are  not  by  any  means  to 
be  summarily  dismissed.  This  subject  will  receive 
further  mention,  but  in  the  meantime  clearness 
will  be  undoubtedly  served  by  confining  the  dis- 
cussion, as  Ihm  has  wisely  done,  to  the  narrower 
range  of  forms  which  are  evidently  related.  These 
are  common  to  Celts  and  Germans,  and  both  peoples 
have  been  held  to  be  the  original  possessors  of  the 
worship.  The  probabilities  are  rather  in  favour  of 
the  view  that  the  Celts  first  developed  it  and  that 
the  Germans  borrowed  it  from  them.  The  oldest 
dated  monument  (Matronenkultus,  no.  35,  of  the 
age  of  Caligula)  has  been  found  in  northern  Italy, 
and  the  cult  was  undoubtedly  native  also  to 
southern  Gaul.  It  is  unlikely  that  the  Celtic 
population  of  either  of  those  regions  derived  it 
from  the  Germans,  and  all  that  is  known  of  the 
relations  of  Germans  and  Celts  down  to  the  begin- 
ning of  the  Christian  era  favours  the  theory  that 
the  Germans,  in  such  matters,  were  the  borrowers 
or  imitators.1  It  is  possible,  of  course,  that  both 
peoples  possessed  the  worship  equally  from  the 
beginning  (cf.  Siebourg,  op.  cit.  p.  97  ;  also  Much, 
ZDA  xxxv.  315 ff.),  or  that  they  derived  it  inde- 
pendently from  older  populations  which  preceded 
them  in  the  occupation  of  western  Europe.  Atten- 
tion has  already  been  called  to  the  uncertainty 
concerning  the  history  of  the  names  Matres  and 
Matronm  themselves. 

The  Mother-goddesses,  in  the  restricted  sense  in 
which  they  are  now  being  considered,  were  appar- 
ently conceived  in  triads.  Only  one  inscription 
('  Matribus  tribus  Campestribus,'  GIL  vii.  510, 
preserved  in  Britain)  designates  the  number  ;  but 
the  goddesses  are  often  depicted  in  groups  of  three, 
and  no  monument  representing  a  different  number 
is  definitely  associated  with  them  by  an  inscription. 
The  position  and  arrangement  of  the  Matres  vary 
somewhat  on  different  monuments,  the  prevailing 
type  showing  three  draped  figures,  seated  beneath 
a  canopy  or  arch,  wearing  round  head-dresses  like 
a  nimbus,  and  holding  baskets  of  fruit  on  their 
knee.  The  middle  goddess  is  usually  distinguished 
from  the  others  in  some  fashion,  either  by  the 
size  and  position  of  her  figure  or  by  a  difference 
in  head-dress.  On  one  monument  she  is  seated 
while  the  others  stand,  and  on  another  she  stands 
while  the  others  sit.  It  is  hardly  to  be  supposed, 
however,  that  there  was  any  distinction  of  rank 
or  function  among  the  divinities.  Such  variations 
in  the  type  were  doubtless  purely  artistic  in  pur- 
pose.2 On  a  very  few  monuments,  notably  the 
Metz  relief  (Matronenkultus,  p.  43,  fig.  7),  the  three 
goddesses  are  represented  as  standing. 

1  Cf.  Matronenkultus,  p.  67  ff. ;  and  C.  de  la  Saussave,  Relig.  of 
the  Teutons,  1902,  p.  88  ff.  See  also,  on  the  early  relations  of  Celts 
and  Germans,  d'Arbois  de  Jubainville,  Premiers  habitants,  ii. 
323  ff. ;  Kluge,  in  Paul's  Grundriss,  i.2  [1901]  324  ff.  ;  Bremer, 
ib.  iii.2  [1904)  787  ff. ;  R.  Much,  Deutsche  Stammeskunde,  Leipzig, 
1900,  p.  41  ff.  Kauffmann,  in  Ztschr.  des  Ver.  fur  Volksk.  ii. 
11892]  24  ff.,  disputes  the  adoption  of  Mother- worship  by  the 
Germans,  except  when  they  had  practically  abandoned  their 
nationality.  But  there  is  considerable  evidence  on  the  other 
side.    See  Siebourg,  Bonner  Jahrb.  cv.  [1900J  95  ff. 

2  Cf.  Matronenkultus,  pp.  47-48,  and  Siebourg,  Bonner  Jahrb. 
cv.  100.  For  an  attempt  to  connect  the  type  with  Gr.  repre- 
sentations of  the  Mother  of  the  Gods,  see  Loeschcke,  Bonner 
Jahrb.  xcv.  [1894]  261. 


It  is  doubtful  how  far  monuments  representing 
groups  larger  or  smaller  than  three  are  to  be  associ- 
ated with  the  worship  of  the  Matres.  Five  dancing 
women  on  a  relief  at  Avigliana  probably  do  not 
themselves  represent  the  goddesses,  though  the 
monument  is  inscribed  '  Matronis  '  (see  Matronen- 
kultus, p.  48).  A  group  of  two  figures  on  a  relief 
at  Poitiers,  holding  cornucopise  and  baskets  of 
fruit,  has  also  been  taken  to  represent  Matres. 
But  the  existence  of  other  goddesses  known  to 
have  been  worshipped  in  pairs  renders  the  identifi- 
cation extremely  doubtful.1  The  single  figures 
of  a  goddess  riding  a  horse,  often  referred  to  in 
the  past  as  an  '  equestrian  Matrona,' s  are  now  held 
to  be  Epona,  a  divinity  of  distinct  character,  whose 
worship  appears,  however,  in  the  same  regions  as 
that  of  the  Matres.'  Occasionally,  in  fact,  Epona 
and  the  Mother-goddesses  are  associated  on  the  same 
monument.4  It  is,  of  course,  possible  that  Epona 
was  originally,  as  Renel  {Les  Religions  de  la  Gaule 
avant  le  christianisme,  Paris,  1906,  p.  281)  suggests, 
only  a  Matrona  with  specialized  function  (mire 
spicialisie). 

Of  dubious  connexion  with  the  Matres,  likewise, 
are  numerous  statuettes  of  single  figures,  without 
names,  more  or  less  resembling  the  inscribed 
representations  of  the  goddesses.  Some  of  these 
figures  carry  fruit  or  cornucopise,  and  have  the 
same  head-dress  as  appears  on  the  larger  monu- 
ments ;  others  represent  women  with  babes — a 
conception  in  itself  suitable  enough  to  Matres  or 
Matronal,  though  not  in  accordance  with  the  usual 
convention.  Ihm  rejects  all  such  figures,  insisting 
upon  the  triadic  group  as  characteristic  of  the 
cult  (Matronenkultus,  p.  53  ff.) ;  and  the  existence 
of  statuettes  of  the  regular  triad  rather  counts  in 
his  favour,  making  it  more  difficult,  as  Siebourg 
has  argued,  to  identify  single  figures  as  Matronw.1 
It  is  even  doubted  whether  the  numerous  statu- 
ettes of  women  with  babes  or  fruits  represent 
goddesses  at  all.  They  may  be  merely  votive 
offerings  or  talismanic  images  ;  but  in  the  case 
of  many  of  them  the  symbolism  appears  to  in- 
dicate local  or  personal  divinities  similar  in 
function  to  the  Matres.  The  most  reasonable 
conclusion,  perhaps,  is  to  recognize  the  probable 
existence  of  many  related  forms  of  worship,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  restrict  the  names  Matres 
and  Matrona  to  monuments  actually  so  inscribed 
or  exhibiting  the  customary  figures  of  the  three 
divinities.  The  geographical  limits  already  laid 
down  for  the  cult  were  made  up  on  this  basis,  and 
it  does  not  seem  wise  to  extend  them  by  the 
inclusion  of  doubtful  monuments.6  The  term 
'  Mother-goddesses,'  which  is  applied,  especially  by 
French  archaeologists,  to  a  great  number  of  these 
statuettes  of  various  types,  is  sometimes  used  very 

1  Cf.,  for  example,  the  inscription,  'Deabus  Vercanae  et 
Medunae,'  at  Treves  ;  and  see,  for  other  references,  Matronen- 
kultus, p.  53  ff .,  and  Siebourg,  Bonner  Jahrb.  cv.  98  ff . 

2  Becker's  '  reitende  Matrona,1  Bonner  Jahrb.  xxvi.  [1858] 
91  ff. 

s  See  Matronenkultus,  p.  65  ff. ;  S.  Reinach,  RA,  1895,  p.  163  ff. 
Reinach  gives  a  map  of  the  distribution  of  Epona  monuments, 
which  may  be  compared  with  Haverfield's  map  for  the  Mother- 
goddesses.  For  some  modification  of  Reinach's  statements,  cf. 
Dangibeaud,  Revue  des  etudes  anciennes,  vii.  [1905]  236  ff. 

4  See  Domaszewski,  Rel.  des  rom.  Heeres,  Treves,  1895,  p.  50. 

6  See  the  Bonner  Jahrb.  cv.  98  ;  also  Monceaux,  Revue  his- 
torique,  xxxv.  [1887]  256. 

6  On  the  statuettes  of  the  types  under  consideration  there 
is  an  extensive  literature.  See  esp.  Matronenkultus,  p.  53 ; 
Tudot,  Figurines  de  Vtpoque  gallo-romaine,  Paris,  1860  • 
Vallentin,  in  RCel  iv.  [1879]  28  ;  Monceaux,  Rev.  historique 
xxxv.  [1887]  256  ff.  ;  Chauvet,  Hypothese  sur  une  statuette 
antique,  Angouleme,  1901 ;  A.  Blanchet,  '  Figurines  en  terre 
cuite  de  la  Gaule  romaine,'  Mdm.  Soc.  Ant.,  6th  series,  i.  [1890] 
65  ff.,  x.  [1901]  189  ff. ;  Baillet,  Mim.  de  la  Soc.  archiol.  el  his- 
torique de  I'Orleanais,  xxix.  [1905]  399  ff.  ;  Gassies,  Revue 
des  etudes  anciennes,  viii.  [1906]  65  ff.  ;  and  A.  J.  Reinach, 
Pro  Alesia,  iii.  [1908-9]  426  ff.  For  a  map  of  Gaul  showing 
the  distribution  of  Mother-worship  in  the  more  inclusive  sense, 
see  Renel,  Les  Religions,  p.  286. 


DE^E  MATRBS 


409 


loosely.  Thus  Gassies,  pleading  against  the  re- 
striction of  the  Mother-worship  to  Gaul  and 
Germany,  cites  Venus,  Juno,  and  Demeter  as 
dCcsses  mires  ;  and  other  writers  (see,  for  example, 
A.  Wirth,  Danae,  Vienna  and  Prague,  1892,  p. 
95)  have  compared  the  Matres  with  the  Semitic 
'Ao-T&prai.  Statuettes,  moreover,  of  the  sorts  just 
referred  to  have  been  found  in  widely  separate 
regions  outside  of  Gaul :  for  example,  in  Greece, 
Italy,  and  Northern  Africa.1 

Trie  difficulty,  if  not  the  impossibility,  of 
keeping  the  worship  of  Matres  and  Matronm 
distinct  from  all  other  cults  is  hardly  less  apparent 
in  the  case  of  inscribed  than  in  that  of  uninscribed 
monuments.  For  the  ancients  themselves  associ- 
ated, and  doubtless  to  some  extent  identified, 
these  divinities  with  others.  Just  as  in  the  case 
of  several  of  the  more  important  individual  gods 
of  the  Celts  and  Germans,  so  with  regard  to  the 
Matres,  the  modern  investigator  is  puzzled  by  the 
uncertain  meaning  of  the  interpretatio  Montana. 
Roman  conquerors  and  romanized  provincials  alike 
were  eager  to  identify  the  gods  of  the  northern 
barbarians  with  those  of  the  old  classical  pantheon, 
and  the  resulting  equations  are  neither  consistent 
with  themselves  nor  easy  to  understand.2  The 
Matres,  in  this  way,  are  sometimes  associated  with 
the  Parcw,  on  the  evidence  of  a  few  inscriptions 
'  Matribus  Parcis. '  But  it  is  not  clear  that  an 
identification  of  the  two  groups  was  intended  by 
the  dedicants  in  question.  Moreover,  the  modes 
of  representing  the  Matres  and  the  Parcce  are 
quite  different,  and  their  fundamental  characters 
appear  to  have  been  dissimilar  (see  below,  p.  410, 
and  cf.  Matronenkultus,  p.  66  ff.,  and  Haverfield, 
Arch.  jEI.  xv.  326).  The  association  of  the 
Fates  with  the  Matres  is  also  doubtful,  and  finds 
no  positive  support  in  the  inscriptions.8  In  the 
case  of  the  Nymphm,  whom  some  investigators 
have  brought  into  relation  with  the  Matres,  there 
is  little  reason  for  the  comparison,  beyond  the 
fact  that  both  kinds  of  divinities  have  numerous 
monuments  inscribed  with  local  epithets.4  Evi- 
dence is  slightly  better,  as  Ihm  has  shown,  for 
connecting  the  Matres  with  the  goddesses  of  the 
cross-roads  (q.v.)  named  on  various  monuments  as 
'  Bivise,'  '  Triviee,'  and  '  Quadriviee,'  though  the 
matter  is  by  no  means  certain.6  But  the  divinities 
who  may  with  most  probability  be  identified  with 
the  Matres  are  those  who  were  called  '  Campestres,' 
'  Junones,'  and  '  Sulevise.'  All  these  names  appear 
both  independently  and  in  combination  with  Matres 
or  Matronm,  and  it  is  hard  to  say  whether  they 
stand  for  goddesses  originally  distinct  and  later 
identified  with  the  Matres,  or  whether  they  were 
originally  mere  epithets  of  the  Matres  and  after- 
wards came  to  be  used  independently.  At  all 
events  the  divinities  concerned  were  closely  associ- 
ated in  the  end  with  the  Mother-goddesses.  The 
Junones,  in  the  sense  now  under  consideration, 
should  probably  be  distinguished  from  the  Roman 
Junones,  conceived  as  the  geniuses  of  women. 
They  are  very  likely  only  Matronm  worshipped 
under  another  name,  and  the  chief  seat  of  their 
cult  appears  to  have  been  Cisalpine  Gaul.6    The 

1  Cf.  S.  Reinach,  Bronzes  figures,  p.  15,  and  Blanchet,  Mhn. 
de  la  Soc.  des  Antiquaires,  vi.  [1901]  10,  p.  197  ff.). 

2Cf.,  for  example,  the  various  views  about  Taranis  and 
Teutates  discussed  by  Reinach,  RCel  xviii.  [1897J 137  ff. 

3  See  Matronenkultus,  p.  98  ff.,  and  Esperandieu,  Mvxte 
Calvet,  inscriptions  antiques,  Avignon,  1900,  p.  59  f. 

4  See  Matronenkultus,  p.  93  ff.  The  old  comparison  has  been 
recently  repeated  by  J.  Leite  de  Vasconcellos,  Religioes  de  Lust- 
tania,  ii.  193. 

6  With  Matronenkultus,  p.  87  ff.,  cf.  Ihm's  later  remarks  in 
the  Bonner  Jahrb.  xciv.  [1893]  165,  and  Haverfield  in  the  Arch. 
jFA.  xv.  326. 

a  See  particularly  Ihm's  art.  'Junones  II.'  in  Roscher.  The 
Proxumce,  sometimes  identified  with  the  Matres,  seem  to 
correspond  rather  to  the  regular  Roman  Junones  (cf.  Matronen- 
kultus, p.  97). 


Campestres  have  sometimes  been  described  as 
goddesses  of  the  fields,  but  it  is  more  probable 
that  they  were  the  special  protectors  of  the 
military  camp,  or  rather  that  their  name  was  the 
epithet  applied  to  the  Matronm  when  conceived 
as  exercising  this  function.1  In  the  case  of  the 
Sulevice  it  is  more  probable  that  we  have  divinities 
originally  distinct  from  the  Matres,  though  of 
closely  similar  character  and  function.  Inscrip- 
tions to  them  are  far  less  numerous  than  those 
to  the  Matres  or  Matronm,  but  their  geographical 
distribution  is  similar.  The  origin  and  meaning 
of  the  name  Sulevice  is  unknown,  though  it  is 
tempting  to  compare  the  British  Dea  Sul,  wor- 
shipped at  Bath  (Agum  Sulis),  and  to  seek  an 
etymology  in  the  Celtic  root  sul  (O.  Ir.  suil,  '  eye '). 
If  this  theory  is  right,  the  meaning  of  the  word 
would  be  similar  to  that  of  Tutelm* 

In  the  absence  of  all  ancient  literary  treatment 
of  the  Mother-goddesses,  the  only  evidences  of 
their  divine  functions  are  those  furnished  by  the 
artistic  representations  of  the  divinities,  and  by  the 
epithets  applied  to  them.  The  customary  figures 
of  the  Matres  have  been  described  already.  The 
epithets,  though  numerous,  contribute  very  little 
new  information.  Many  of  them  are  simply  gen- 
eral terms  of  veneration,  such  as  '  augustse,'  '  dese,' 
'  divse,'  '  sanctae,'  perhaps  also  '  dominse,'  though 
the  application  of  this  to  the  Matres  is  not  certain.8 
'  Nemetiales  '  is  possibly  equivalent  to  '  sanctse, ' 
but  seems  rather  to  be  connected  with  the  tribal 
name  of  the  Nemetes  or  with  some  locality  (see 
Rhys,  p.  102 ;  Matronenkultus,  p.  16).  Other 
epithets  denote  the  special  protective  relation  of 
the  goddesses  to  individual  dedicants  or  their 
families  ;  for  example,  '  mese,'  '  suae,'  '  paternae,' 
'  maternee,'  'domesticse,'  'trisavse,'  'conserva- 
trices,'  '  indulgentes.'  By  far  the  greater  number 
contain  the  names  of  nations,  tribes,  or  locali- 
ties, such  as  '  Af  rae  Italse  Gallse,'  '  Italse  Gallae 
Germanse  Britannse,'  '  Omnium  gentium,'  '  Nori- 
cse,'  '  Traverse,'  Na^aiwiica/So,  and  the  numerous 
non-Latin  or  half-latinized  names  which,  though 
largely  unexplained,  are  held  to  belong  chiefly  to 
this  class.  A  few  of  the  latter  have  been  brought 
into  relation  with  definite  place-names  like  '  Juli- 
neihise,'  '  Albiahense,'  '  Nersihenas,'  '  Mahline- 
hae,'  connected  respectively  with  Jiilich,  Elvenich, 
Neersen,  and  Mechelin  ;  but  the  great  majority 
seem  to  go  back  to  pre-Roman  names,  since  dis- 
placed and  lost.4  The  names  Aflims,  Saitchamims, 
and  Vatuims — over  against  the  latinized  forms 
AJliabus,  Saithamiabus,  and  Vatuiabus — which 
are  of  special  interest  as  exhibiting  very  archaic 
forms  of  the  Germanic  dative  plural  ending,  are 
also  presumably  of  local  significance.6  The  only 
native  epithet  which  seems  to  have  reference  to 
function  is  '  Gabiae,'  with  its  compounds  '  Ollo- 
gabiae '  (on  two  inscriptions  at  Mainz),  and  '  Ala- 
gabiee'  (on  an  inscription  at  Biirgel).  Even  this  is 
not  beyond  dispute,  and  its  meaning  is  not  par- 
ticularly individualizing  at  best.  It  is  usually 
translated  the  '  Givers,'  the  '  All-Givers '  (cf  Pan- 
dora)— a  name  which  is  quite  consistent  with  the 
representations  of  the  goddesses.  The  etymology 
is  easy  in  Germanic  (cf.  geben,  'give,'  etc.),  where 

1  SeeSiebourg, deSulevisCampestribusFatis^onnflSSQ;  Ihm, 
Mat ronenkultus,  p.  76 ff.  ;  and  Roscher,  s.v.  'Matres,'  p.  2475. 

-  See  Siebourg,  de  Sulevis,  etc.,  and  Bonner  Jahrb.  cv.  [1900] 
89  ff. ;  and  Ihm,  Matronenkultus,  p.  78  ff. 

3  See  Matronenkultus,  p.  98,  and  Rhys,  Celtic  Heathendom, 
1892,  p.  102  ff.,  the  latter  comparing  the  Gaulish  Comedovce. 

i  On  this  class  of  epithets,  see  particularly  von  Grienberger, 
in  Branos  Vindobonensis,  Vienna,  1893,  p.  253  ff.,  and  Sie- 
bourg, Bonner  Jahrb.  cv.  79  ff.  A  wholly  different  theory, 
connecting  epithets  in  -nehae  with  N^he,  the  name  of  a  hot 
spring  at  Dax,  and  explaining  them  as  Iberian  or  Ligurian,  wae 
proposed  by  0.  Jullian,  Revue  des  itudes  anc.  iii.  [1901]  212. 
See  also  his  Hist,  de  Gaule,  ii.  131. 

6  See  Kauffmann,  op.  cit.  ii.  44,  and  Siebourg,  Bonner  Jahrb 
cv.  94-95. 


410 


DB^E  MATRBS 


several  other  divine  names  are  perhaps  to  be 
derived  from  the  same  root ;  but  in  the  Celtic 
languages,  in  which  the  root  gab  usually  means 
'  take,'  rather  than  'give,'  the  explanation  is  more 
difficult.  It  is  possible,  therefore,  that  the  epithet 
is  Germanic  in  origin,  and  that  the  form  '  Ollo- 
gabiae,'  in  which  the  prefix  has  a  Celtic  appearance, 
is  simply  a  case  of  the  Celtic  adoption  of  the  Ger- 
manic '  Alagabise.' '  The  interpretation  proposed 
for  Gabice  is  supported  by  several  divine  names 
in  Lithuanian  (' Matergabia,'  'Polengabia')  which 
have  similar  form  and  meaning.2 

With  regard  to  the  nature  and  function  of  the 
goddesses,  various  theories  have  been  held.  Accord- 
ing to  older  views,  now  generally  abandoned, 
they  were  deified  druidesses  of  the  ancient  Celts, 
or  prophetesses  of  the  Germans,  or  symbols  of  the 
three  Gauls  or  of  the  three  seasons.3  The  occa- 
sional association  of  the  Matres  with  the  Parcce 
has  led  to  their  interpretation  as  divinities  of 
destiny ;  but  the  evidence  for  this  has  already 
(p.  409a)  been  shown  to  be  slight.  And  the  repre- 
sentations of  the  goddesses,  together  with  the  few 
epithets  that  seem  to  bear  on  the  question 
(' Indulgentes,'  'Gabise,'  etc.),  indicate  that  they 
were  primarily  friendly  local  divinities  of  wealth 
and  fruitfulness.  As  such,  their  functions  would 
resemble  those  of  Fortuna  or  Pomona  rather  than 
those  of  the  Fates,  though  the  two  conceptions 
would  be  naturally  associated,  and  occasional 
equations  between  Matres  and  Parcce  might  be 
expected  to  appear.  Ihm,  in  defining  them  as 
'  gutige  Schicksalsgottinnen,'  combines  the  two 
characters,  and  his  definition  may  be  allowed  to 
stand,  if  it  is  understood  not  to  imply  too  large  an 
element  of  Fate  or  too  close  an  approximation  to 
the  classical  conception  of  the  Parcce.  At  the  same 
time,  the  sphere  of  the  goddesses  should  not,  on  the 
evidence  of  the  reliefs,  be  too  narrowly  restricted 
to  the  care  of  lands  and  flocks.  The  conventional 
representation  of  them,  which  was  doubtless  of 
classical  origin,  may  have  been  purely  artistic  in 
purpose  and  in  no  sense  a  complete  expression  of 
the  cult.  Even  the  number  three,  which  is  also 
characteristic  of  monuments  of  Proxumce,  Parcce, 
and  Nymphce,  may  be  a  formal  device  for  represent- 
ing the  plural  and  have  no  literal  significance. 
Certainly  the  distribution  of  the  worship,  the 
occasional  association  of  the  Matres  with  Mars, 
and  such  epithets  as  '  campestres '  and  '  victrices,'  all 
connecting  the  goddesses  with  the  military  camp, 
suggest  a  considerable  extension  of  their  powers 
in  one  direction ;  and  various  dedications  by 
women  imply  their  influence  over  still  other  phases 
of  life.  Their  functions  were  doubtless  vaguely 
conceived  by  their  worshippers,  and  ought  not 
to  be  narrowly  defined.  As  the  tutelary  geniuses 
of  tribes  or  localities,  they  presided  over  all  the 
interests  of  the  people,  and  gave  success  to  all 
kinds  of  undertakings.  They  belong,  in  short,  to 
a  stage  of  religion  in  which  '  departmental '  deities 
were  scarcely  conceived,  and  their  cult  doubtless 
survived,  with  slight  alteration,  even  after  the 
development  of  gods  with  specialized  functions.4 

Although  the  cult  of  the  Matres  was  wide-spread 
and  in  a  sense  influential,  as  is  shown  by  the 
numerous    monuments    and    also     by    occasional 

1  Cf.  Kern,  Verslagen  en  Mededeelingen  der  K.  Akademie 
van  Wetenschappen,  Amsterdam,  1872,  ii.  304  ff.  ;  Ihm, 
Matronenkultus,  p.  48 ;  Siebourg,  Bonner  Jahrb.  cv.  98 ;  and 
Much,  Festgabe  fur  R.  Beimel,  p.  262.  The  possibility  of 
Celtic  Gabice  in  the  sense  Of  'Givers,'  is  by  no  means  to  be 
denied.  See  Stokes,  Urkeltischer  Sprachsckatz,  s.v.  'Gab,'  in 
Pick's  Vergleichend.es  Wbrterbuch  der  indogerm.  Sprachen, 
1S94,  ii.  105. 

2  Cf.  Schrader,  Reallexicon,  Strassburg,  1901,  p.  680,  and  von 
Grienberger,  Archivfiir  Slav.  Philol.  xviii.  [1896]  62-65. 

3  For  references  to  these  explanations,  see  Matronenkultus, 
p.  65  f. 

4  Cf.  Siebourg,  Bonner  Jahrb.  cv.  87  ;  Anwvl,  Celtic  Religion, 
London,  19UU,  p.  42.  and  CeR  iii.  finnci]  -20  fV 


temples  of  the  goddesses,  yet  in  the  Konian  period, 
from  which  our  evidence  comes,  it  does  not  appear 
to  have  belonged  to  the  higher  social  classes.  All 
the  dedicants,  so  far  as  can  be  determined,  are 
persons  of  low  rank,  except  perhaps  the  tribunus 
militum  of  a  single  inscription  (Matronenkultus, 
no.  394),  and  it  is  possible  that  he  is  offering  on 
behalf  of  his  soldiers.  The  fact,  too,  that  the 
worship  is  not  mentioned  in  literature  is  further 
evidence  that  it  belonged  mainly  to  the  humbler 
people.1 

So  popular  a  worship  can  hardly  have  failed 
to  leave  traces  of  itself  in  later  ages  in  the  regions 
where  it  flourished,  and  apparent  survivals  of  the 
ancient  cult  have  been  detected  in  the  beliefs  of 
both  Celts  and  Germans  in  mediaeval  and  modern 
times.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  fairies 
of  western  European  folk-lore,  particularly  in  the 
Celtic  countries,  correspond  in  part  to  the  Matres. 
It  is  hard  to  speak  precisely  of  the  history  of  the 
lower  mythology,  which  is  far  from  precise  in  its 
own  distinctions ;  and  one  cannot  expect  to  keep 
by  themselves  the  descendants  of  a  single  group 
of  minor  divinities.  The  modern  fairies  un- 
doubtedly derive  some  of  their  characteristics  from 
the  ancient  Fates,  as  their  name  itself  implies. 
But  the  Matres  also,  in  their  character  of  divinities 
of  wealth  and  good  fortune,  have  much  in  common 
with  the  benignant  fairy  ;  they  were  associated  in 
antiquity,  as  has  been  seen,  with  the  Parcce ;  and 
they  must  be  allowed  to  share  with  the  goddesses 
of  destiny  in  the  later  development  of  fairy 
mythology.2  The  identification  of  Matres  and 
fairies,  moreover,  is  occasionally  supported  by 
definite  evidence,  such  as  the  existence  of  an 
ancient  inscribed  monument  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  a  fairy  mound  or  dwelling.8  Possibly,  too,  one  of 
the  modern  Welsh  names  of  the  fairies,  YMaw.au 
('The  Mothers'),  may  point  back  to  the  old 
relation.4 

In  some  peculiar  instances  the  worship  of  the 
Mother-goddesses  appears  to  have  survived  in  a 
quasi-Christian  form.  The  representations  of  the 
Matres  at  Metz  are  said  to  have  been  venerated 
until  the  18th  century  as  the  '  three  Marys ' 
{Matronenkultus,  no.  385,  p.  162,  also  p.  74  a.). 
Similarly,  at  Thumb,  near  Nideggen,  the  worship 
of  three  maidens  representing  Faith,  Hope,  and 
Charity  has  been  brought  into  connexion  with 
traces  of  the  Mother- worship ;  and  the  same 
explanation  has  been  proposed  to  account  for  the 
'  Drei  Merjen,'  Bellmarie,  Schwellmarie,  and 
Krieschmarie,  who  are  worshipped  at  Durboslar, 
near  Jiilich,  as  protectors  of  infants.6  It  is  possible 
that  the  images  of  the  Matres  may  have  started 
such  cults  even  after  the  actual  worship  of  the  god- 
desses had  been  entirely  forgotten.  Thus  various 
local  dedications  to  the  Madonna  are  probably 
due  to  the  discovery  of  old  statues  which  were 
conceived  by  the  worshippers  as  being  in  some 
sense  miraculous  images ;  but  these  statues,  in 
so  far  as  they  represent  single  figures,  have  been 
seen  to  be  of  doubtful  connexion  with  the  cult  of 
the  Matres  in  the  restricted  sense  of  the  present 
discussion.6 

One  conspicuous  modern  literary  reference  to 

1  On  temples  of  the  Matres,  see  Matronenkultus,  p.  51; 
Kauffmann,  op.  cit.  ii.  [1892]  36;  Griinenwald,  Westdeutsche 
Zeitschrift,  1906,  p.  239  ff.  On  the  dedicants,  Matronenkultus, 
p.  62  ff.  and  Index ;  Rhys,  Celtic  Heathendom,  103  ;  Siebourg, 
Bonner  Jahrb.  cv.  91  ff. ;  and  Lehner,  ib.  cxix.  301  ff 

2  Cf.  T.  Wright,  The  Celt,  the  Roman,  and  the  Saxon,  ed. 
1875,  p.  338  ff.,  and  A.  Maury,  Croyances  et  Ugendes  du  moyen 
age,  ed.  1896,  p.  1  ff.,  both  of  whom,  perhaps,  go  too  far  in 
identif ying  Matres  and  the  Fates. 

3  On  an  instance  at  St.  Romain-en-Gal,  see  Vallentin,  RCel  iv. 
[1879]  33. 

4  Cf.  Rhys,  Celtic  Folklore,  1901,  p.  174. 

5  See  A.  Schoop,  Bonner  Jahrb.  ex.  (1903]  364. 

6  See  Rhys,  Celtic  Heathendom,  102,  and  Baillet,  Mtm.  de  la 
Soc.  arche'ol.  et  hist,  de  VOrUanais,  xxix.  T19051  403. 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


41i 


Mother-goddesses,  the  familiar  passage  on  '  Die 
Mutter '  in  the  second  part  of  Goethe's  Faust, 
has  been  sometimes  associated  with  the  Celtic 
and  Germanic  divinities  in  question.  But  Ecker- 
mann  (Gesprache  mit  Goethe,  Jan.  10,  1830)  testi- 
fies that  Goethe  himself  acknowledged  no  source 
except  a  passage  in  Plutarch  which  said  that  the 
ancient  Greeks  spoke  of  '  Mothers '  as  divinities. 
The  reference  seems  to  he  to  Plutarch's  Mar- 
cellus,  cap.  20,  where  the  Sicilian  Mirripes,  wor- 
shipped at  Engyion,  are  mentioned.  Very  little 
is  known  of  their  cult  or  nature,  and  that  little 
does  not  indicate  any  close  resemblance  be- 
tween them  and  the  Matres  of  the  Celts  and 
Germans.1 


Literature. — The  moat  important  treatise  on  the  subject  ia 
Max  Ihm's  '  Der  Mutter-  oder  Matronenkultua  und  seine 
Denkmaler'  (Bonner  Jahrbiicher,  lxxxiii.  [1887]  1-200).  An 
earlier  work  by  J.  de  Wal,  De  Moeder  Goddinnen,  Leyden,  1846, 
is  superseded  by  Ihm'a  investigations.  The  principal  contri- 
butions since  the  Matronenkullus  are  :  Ihm,  art.  '  Matres,'  in 
Eoscher,  ii.  2,  p.  2464  ff. ;  J.  A.  Hild,  art. '  Matres,'  in  Daremberg- 
Saglio,  ill.  1635  ff. ;  F.  Haverfield,  in  Archceol.  jEUana,  xv. 
(1892]  314  ff.  ;  R.  Much,  in  ZDA  xxiii.  [1891]  816  ff. ;  F.  Kauff- 
mann,  in  Ztschr.  des  Ver.fiir  Volkskunde,  ii.  (1892)24 B. ;  Th.  von 
Grienberger,  in  Eranos  Vindobonensis,  1893,  p.  263  B. ;  M. 
Siebourg,  in  Bonner  Jahrbiicher,  cv.  (1900)  78  ff.  ;  H.  Lehner, 
ib.  cxix.  [1891]  801  ff.  Valuable  collections  of  references  are 
given  in  Holder's  Altcell.  Sprachschatz,  Leipzig,  1896,  under 
*  Matres,'  'MatraV  'Matronse,'  and  under  the  various  epithets; 
and  many  illustrations  of  the  monuments  are  to  be  found  in  the 
Recueil  general  des  bas-reliefs  de  la  Gaule  romaine,  in  process  of 
publication  by  E.  Esperandieu  (Paris,  1907  ff.).  For  references 
on  statuettes,  see  p.  408>>  above.  F.  N.  ROBINSON. 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE   DEAD. 


Introd.  and  Primitive  (E.  S.  Haetland),  p.  411. 
Mgea.ii. — See  Tombs. 
Babylonian  (S.  H.  LANGDON),  p.  444. 
Buddhist  (L.  DE  LA  VALLEE  Poussin),  p.  446. 
Celtic.  —  See   Celts,    Aeyan    Religion,    and 

Death  (Pre-historic  Europe). 
Chinese  (W.  G.  Walshe),  p.  450. 

Coptic  (P.  D.  SCOTT-MONCEIEFF),  p.  454. 

Early  Christian  (E.  K.  Mitchell),  p.  456. 

Egyptian  (H.  R.  Hall),  p.  458. 

Europe,  Pre-historic  (R.  Muneo),  p.  464. 

Greek  (G.  Seegi),  p.  472. 

Hebrew. — See  'Jewish.' 

Hindu  (A.  Hillebrandt),  p.  475. 

DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD.— 

I.  Introductory. 
II.  Origin  of  death. 

III.  Death  believed  to  be  unnatural. 

IV.  Abandonment  and  premature  burial. 
V.  Separation  of  soul  and  body. 

VI.  Before  the  funeral. 
VII.  Disposal  of  the  corpse. 
VIII.  The  grave. 
IX.  Funeral  ceremonies 
X.  Grave  furniture  and  food. 
XI.  Precautions  against  haunting. 
XII.  Return  from  the  funeral. 

XIII.  Lingering  of  the  soul. 

XIV.  Purification  of  the  survivors, 
XV.  Funeral  feasts. 

XVI.  Funeral  games  and  dances. 
XVII.  Mourning. 

XVIII.  Purification  of  house  and  village. 
XIX.  Destruction  or  abandonment  of  house  and  property. 
XX.  Tabu  of  name. 
XXI.  Second  funeral.    Ossuaries. 
XXII.  Ettigies  of  the  deceased. 
Literature. 

I.  Introductory. — The  horror  of  death  is  universal 
among  mankind.  It  depends  not  so  much  on  the 
pain  that  often  accompanies  dissolution  as  upon 
the  mystery  of  it  and  the  results  to  the  subject  and 
to  the  survivors — the  cessation  of  the  old  familiar 
relations  between  theni,  and  the  decomposition  of 
the  body.  This  horror  has  given  rise  to  an  obstinate 
disbelief  in  the  necessity  of  death,  and  to  attempts, 
continually  repeated  in  spite  of  invariably  disastrous 
experience  of  failure,  to  escape  it.  Even  the  most 
natural  and  inevitable  decease  is  persistently 
ascribed  to  causes  not  beyond  human  control ;  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  legends  of  the  origin  of  death 
are  familiar  and  wide-spread.  The  picture  thus 
presented  of  the  desperate  refusal  of  mankind  to 
accept  a  cardinal  condition  of  existence  is  one  of 
the  most  pathetic  in  the  history  of  the  race. 

II.  Origin  of  death.— The  best-known  type  of 
the  story  of  the  origin  of  death  is  that  contained 
in  Gn  3.  There  it  is  represented  as  the  result 
of  disobedience  to  the  Divine  command  to  abstain 
from  the  fruit  of  a  certain  tree.  Disobedience  is 
not  a  very  uncommon  cause  of  death  in  stories 
elsewhere. 

i  Cf.  .Vatronenkultiis,  p.  5S  ff. 


Indian,  non-Aryan  (W.  Crooke),  p.  479. 

Jain  (H.  Jacobi),  p.  484. 

Japanese  (A.  Lloyd),  p.  485. 

Jewish  (W.  H.  Bennett),  p.  497. 

Muhammadan  (S.  Lane-Poole),  p.  500. 

Parsi  (N.  Soderblom),  p.  502. 

Phoenician. — See  'Babylonian.' 

Roman  (G.  Showerman),  p.  505. 

Slavic  (O.  Schrader),  p.  508. 

Syriac. — See  'Babylonian.' 

Teutonic. — See  Aryan  Religion,  and  Death 

(Pre-historic  Europe). 
Tibetan  (L.  A.  Waddell),  p.  509. 
Vedic— See  Vedic  Religion. 

Among  various  tribes  of  New  South  Wales  it  is  said  that  the 
people  were  meant  to  live  for  ever.  But  they  were  forbidden  to 
approach  a  certain  hollow  tree.  The  wild  bees  made  a  nest  in 
the  tree,  and  the  women  coveted  the  honey.  In  spite  of  warnings 
by  the  men,  a  woman  attacked  the  tree  with  her  tomahawk,  and 
out  flew  a  huge  bat.  The  bat  was  Death,  which  was  henceforth 
free  to  roam  the  world  and  claim  all  that  it  could  touch  with 
its  wings  (K.  Langloh  Parker,  The  Euahlayi  Tribe,  London, 
1905,  p.  98;  B.  Brough  Smyth,  The  Aborigines  of  Victoria, 
London,  1878,  i.  428).  The  story  told  by  the  Baganda  of 
Central  Africa  is  to  the  effect  that  Kintu,  the  first  man,  after 
undergoing  various  tests  well  known  in  folk-tales,  is  allowed  to 
marry  Nambi,  one  of  the  daughters  of  Mugulu  (Heaven,  or  the 
Above).  Her  father  sends  them  down  to  the  earth  with  gifts, 
which  include  a  hen,  telling  them  to  hurry  lest  they  meet  with 
Nambi's  brother  Warumbe  (Death),  at  the  moment  absent,  and 
forbidding  them  to  return  to  fetch  anything  that  they  may 
have  forgotten.  On  the  way  Nambi  remembers  that  it  is  time 
to  feed  the  hen,  and  consents  to  Kintu's  immediate  return 
for  the  millet  she  has  forgotten.  Mugulu  is  angry  at  the  dis- 
obedience, and  the  result  is  that  Warumbe  claims  to  go  with 
Kintu.  It  is  vain  to  object.  Warumbe  accordingly  goes 
and  dwells  with  Kintu  and  Nambi  on  the  earth.  Nambi 
gives  birth  to  three  children.  Warumbe  asks  for  one,  but 
Kintu  puts  him  off.  In  course  of  time  many  more  children 
are  born ;  but,  when  Warumbe  repeats  his  request,  Kintu 
again  temporizes.  Out  of  patience,  he  threatens  to  carry  them 
all  off ;  and  the  children  begin  to  die.  On  appeal  to  Mugulu, 
another  of  his  sons,  Kaikuzi  (the  Digger),  is  sent  to  bring  back 
Warumbe.  Warumbe,  however,  sinks  into  the  earth.  General 
silence  is  proclaimed,  and  Kaikuzi  goes  into  the  earth  to  pursue 
him.  He  forces  Warumbe  out;  but  there  are  some  children 
feeding  goats  at  the  place,  and  on  seeing  him  they  cry  out 
The  cries  break  the  spell ;  Warumbe  returns  into  the  ground, 
and  by  Mugulu's  command  he  is  allowed  to  stay  (Johnston, 
Uganda  Prot.,  Lond.  1902,  ii.  700).  According  to  the  Masai  of 
the  Uganda  Protectorate,  a  superior  being  or  demiurge  directed 
a  Masai,  when  a  child  died,  to  throw  away  the  body,  uttering  a 
spell :  '  Man,  die  and  come  back  again ;  moon,  die,  and  remain 
away.'  But,  when  a  child  that  was  not  his  died,  the  Masai  dis- 
obeyed and  reversed  the  spell.  Afterwards,  when  he  tried  the 
spell  on  one  of  his  own  children,  he  found  it  had  lost  its  effect ; 
and  now,  when  the  moon  dies,  it  comes  back,  but  man  does  not 
return  (Hollis,  Masai,  Oxford,  1905,  p.  271). 

In  the  legends  of  some  peoples,  death  is  the 
result  of  a  god's  curse  unconnected  with  an  act 
of  disobedience. 

The  Bataks  of  Palawan  in  the  Philippine  Islands  relate  that 
their  god  used  to  raise  the  dead  to  life  again.  But  they  deceived 
him  once  with  a  shark  wrapped  up  like  a  corpse.  When  he 
discovered  the  trick,  he  cursed  them  to  remain  for  ever  subject 
to  suffering  and  death  (Ethnol.  Survey,  Phil.  Islands,  ii.  [1905] 
188).  More  poetical  is  the  Japanese  tale  of  Prince  Ninighi,  who 
fell  in  love  with  Princess  Flourishing-like-the-Flowers.  Her 
father,  the  god  of  the  Great  Mountain,  consented  to  her  mar- 
riage, and  sent  with  her  ber  elder  sister,  Long-as-tne- Rocks.  This 


412 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


lady,  however,  was  frightfully  ugly,  and  the  bridegroom  sent  her 
back.  Thereupon  the  god  cursed  his  son-in-law,  declaring  that 
his  posterity  should  he  frail  as  the  flowers  (RHR  liv.  [1906] 
169).  A  Haida  story  accounts  for  death  by  the  fact  that  men 
were  formed  of  grass  and  salmon-berry  bushes.  But  the  Haida 
have  another  legend,  according  to  which  men  were  made  by  the 
Raven,  who  decreed  that  they  should  never  die.  The  decision 
was  changed  at  the  instance  of  the  Wren,  that  he  might  have  a 
|.hice  of  resort  under  their  grave-scaffolds  (Jesup  Exped.  v. 
1 1905]  210,  238).  Among  the  Quinault  Indians  of  British  Colum- 
bia, where  Eagle  and  Raven  are  the  joint  authors  of  things  as 
they  now  are,  Eagle  proposes  that  when  men  die  they  shall 
come  to  life  again.  Raven,  however,  opposes  this,  and  has  his 
way.  He  regrets  it  when  his  own  daughter  dies  and  cannot  be 
revived,  but  it  is  then  too  late  {op.  cit.  ii.  111). 

The  enmity  or  the  slackness  of  one  of  the  lower 
animals  is  regarded  by  many  people  as  the  cause 
of  death. 

A  story  very  wide-spread  in  Africa  among  Negroes,  BaMu, 
and  Hottentots  alike,  is  found  in  two  forms.  The  Hottentot 
version  is  that  the  hare  was  charged  by  the  moon  with  the 
message  to  men :  '  Like  as  I  die  and  rise  to  life  again,  so  you 
also  shall  die  and  rise  to  life  again.'  But  the  hare  conveyed  the 
message  thus  :  '  Like  as  I  die  and  do  not  rise  to  life  again,  so 
you  also  shall  die  and  not  rise  to  life  again.'  The  angry  moon 
split  the  hare's  lip  with  a  blow  ;  but  the  mischief  was  done  and 
was  irremediable.  Hence  the  hare  is  a  tabued  animal  to  the 
Hottentots.  Among  the  Bantu  the  chameleon  is  made  the 
messenger.  But  he  is  a  slow  creature,  and  after  his  departure 
the  Superior  Being  changed  his  mind  and  dispatched  the  lizard 
with  the  message  of  death.  The  lizard  overtook  the  chameleon 
and  arrived  first.  When  afterwards  the  chameleon  delivered 
his  message,  it  was  too  late :  the  irrevocable  decree  had  been 
conveyed  (Bleek,  Reynard  the  Fox,  Lond.  1864,  pp.  71,  74).  In 
Calabar  a  dog  and  a  sheep  are  the  rival  delegates ;  and  it  ia 
through  the  fault  of  the  dog  that  we  die  (Jouni.  Afr.  Soc.  v. 
[1906]  194).  The  ill-will  of  the  antelope  is  alleged  by  a  tribe 
on  the  Ivory  Coast  as  the  reason  for  death.  A  man  was  sent 
to  the  great  fetish  of  Cavalla  for  a  charm  against  death.  He 
was  given  a  stone  to  block  the  path  by  which  it  came.  But 
the  antelope,  offering  to  assist,  maliciously  sang  a  spell  which 
rooted  the  stone  to  the  spot  (Joum.  A/r.  Soc.  vi.  [1907]  77). 

The  Melanesians  of  New  Pomerania  tell  the 
story  of  the  message  wrongly  transmitted.  The 
Wise  Spirit  ordained  that  snakes  should  die,  but 
men  should  slough  their  skins  and  live  for  ever. 
His  brother,  the  Churl,  reversed  the  decree  [ARW 
x.  [1907]  308).  In  the  Shortland  Islands  the 
people  (also  Melanesians)  relate  that  the  great 
foreinother  of  the  race  sloughed  her  skin  at  inter- 
vals and  remained  eternally  young.  The  catas- 
trophe of  her  death  occurred  because  she  was  once 
disturbed  in  the  operation  by  the  screaming  of  her 
child,  who  was  unluckily  allowed  to  witness  it. 
This  was  the  way  death  came  into  the  world 
(FL  xvi.  [1905]  115).  A  similar  story  is  told  by 
the  Baluba,  on  the  borders  of  the  Congo  State ; 
but  there  the  operation  is  interrupted  by  the 
woman's  fellow- wife  {Globus,  lxxxvii.  [1905]  193). 
According  to  the  Hupa  of  California,  people  used 
to  renew  their  youth,  when  they  grew  old,  by 
sleeping  in  the  sweat-house.  But  this  happy  con- 
dition came  to  an  end,  we  learn  from  a  ceremonial 
formula,  because  a  certain  mythological  personage 
was  unfaithful  to  his  two  wives,  who  in  revenge 
took  the  two  children  they  had  borne  him  and 
buried  them  alive.  When  the  children  came  up 
again  they  put  them  back,  declaring  that  thence- 
forward every  one  should  do  that  way  (Goddard, 
Wupa  Texts,  Univ.  California  Pub.  i.  [1903-4]  75, 
366).  The  Eskimo  of  Greenland  relate  that  the  first 
woman  brought  death  by  saying  :  '  Let  these  die  to 
make  room  for  their  posterity '  (Crantz,  Greenland, 
Lond.  1820,  i.  204). 

In  these  stories,  death  is  the  result  of  curse  or 
spell.  Another  Eskimo  tale  accounts  for  it  as  the 
issue  of  a  dispute  between  two  men,  one  of  whom 
desires  men  to  be  immortal,  the  other  to  be  mortal : 
their  words  are  probably  also  spells  (Rink,  Tales, 
Edin.  1875,  p.  41,  citing  Egede).  A  tale  widely 
known  in  North  America  relates  that,  when  the  first 
death  occurred,  an  attempt  was  made  to  bring  the 
soul  back  from  the  land  of  the  dead.  But  some 
prohibition  was  broken,  the  returned  soul  was 
greeted  too  soon,  and  it  vanished  :  wherefore  there 
is  no  return  for  mankind  from  the  spirit-land  (the 


Cherokee  stories  [19  BBEW,  1900,  pp.  252,  436] 
may  be  taken  as  typical). 

Similar  to  the  Eskimo  stories  just  cited  are  some  Australian 
stories.  The  Kaitish  and  Unmatjera  say  that  formerly,  when 
men  were  buried,  they  came  to  life  again  in  three  days  ;  and  the 
Kaitish  declare  that  permanent  death  is  due  to  an  old  man  who 
was  displeased  with  this  arrangement  and  wanted  men  to  die 
once  for  all.  He  secured  this  effect  by  kicking  into  the  sea  the 
body  of  one  who  had  just  died  and  been  temporarily  buried 
(Spencer-Gillenb,  513).  So  also  the  Wotjobaluk  story  runs  that, 
when  people  died,  the  moon  used  to  say,  '  You  up-again ' ;  but 
an  old  man  said,  '  Let  them  remain  dead,'  and  since  then  none 
has  ever  come  to  life  again  except  the  moon  (Howitt,  429). 

The  phases  of  the  moon  naturally  suggest  death 
and  restoration  to  life.  It  is,  therefore,  not  wonder- 
ful to  find  that  among  the  Australians,  as  among 
the  Hottentots,  the  moon  plays  a  considerable 
part  in  the  legends.  We  have  space  to  mention 
only  one  more. 

The  Arunta  relate  that,  before  there  was  any  moon  in  the  sky, 
a  man  died  and  was  buried.  Shortly  afterwards  he  rose  from 
the  grave  in  the  form  of  a  boy.  When  the  people  ran  away  for 
fear,  he  followed  them,  shouting  that  if  they  fled  they  would 
die  altogether,  while  he  would  die  but  rise  again  in  the  sky.  He 
failed  to  induce  them  to  return.  When  he  died,  he  re-appeared 
aB  the  moon,  periodically  dying  and  coming  to  life  again ;  but 
the  people  who  ran  away  died  altogether  (Spencer-Gillen*,  664). 
The  Chams  of  Further  India  see  a  female  figure  in  the  moon. 
She  was  a  goddess  who  raised  all  the  dead  to  life,  until  the  great 
sky-god,  tired  of  this  interference  with  the  eternal  laws,  trans- 
ported her  to  the  moon  (Cabaton,  Nouvelles  Recherche*  sur  lee 
Chams,  Paris,  1901,  p.  19).  Many  other  nations  connect  the 
moon  with  death. 

Once  more.  The  Todas  of  the  Nilgiri  Hills  say 
that  at  first  no  Todas  died.  After  a  time  a  man 
died,  and  the  people,  weeping  bitterly,  were  taking 
the  body  to  the  funeral  place  when  the  goddess 
Teikirzi  took  pity  on  them  and  came  to  bring  him 
back  to  life.  But  she  found  that,  though  someof  the 
people  wept,  others  seemed  quite  happy.  She  there- 
fore changed  her  mind,  and,  instead  of  raising  the 
dead  man,  ordained  the  funeral  ceremonies  (Rivers, 
Todas,  Lond.  1906,  p.  400).  When  in  the  Scandin- 
avian mythology  Baldur  was  slain,  the  goddess  Hel 
promised  to  release  him  if  all  things  wept  for  his 
death.  This  too,  though  not  in  its  present  form 
an  serological  story,  possibly  arose  to  account  for 
the  permanence  of  death. 

The  foregoing  are  but  specimens  of  the  sagas- 
told  in  the  lower  culture  concerning  the  origin  of 
death.  They  exhibit  the  universal  incredulity 
of  mankind  as  to  its  naturalness  and  necessity. 

III.  Death  believed  to  be  unnatural. — i.  The 
escape  of  the  soul. — In  practice,  among  the  races  of 
the  lower  culture,  death,  if  not  caused  by  violence, 
is  generally  ascribed  to  the  action  of  supernatural 
beings,  as  gods  or  spirits,  or  to  witchcraft.  In  a 
few  cases,  as  among  the  Wadjagga  of  Central 
Africa,  the  weakness  of  old  age  may  be  reckoned 
among  its  causes  (Globus,  Ixxxix.  [1906]  198). 
Sometimes  sickness  and  death  are  ascribed  to  the 
escape  of  the  soul  from  the  body.  Thus,  among 
the  Hareskins  of  Canada,  sickness  is  believed  to 
be  due  to  this  cause,  and  it  is  the  task  of  the 
medicine-men  to  capture  the  errant  soul  and  oblige 
Ettsufie,  a  supernatural  being  who  is  perhaps  a 
personification  of  death,  to  enter  the  patient  for  the 
purpose  of  replacing  it  (Petitot,  Trad,  ind.,  Paris, 
1886,  p.  278,  cf.  p.  434).  The  details  of  the  belief 
in  the  soul,  its  escape  and  restoration,  cannot  here 
be  discussed.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  say  that  from 
Siberia  to  Australia,  from  Puget  Sound  to  the 
islands  of  the  Eastern  Archipelago,  means  are 
taken  to  prevent  the  soul  from  wandering,  and 
to  bring  it  Dack  if  from  any  cause  it  departs  ;  for  the 
permanent  loss  of  the  soul  means  nothing  less  than 
death. 

Some  peoples  have  developed  the  theory  that 
the  soul  is  not  single  but  multiple,  and  that  some, 
or  one  only,  of  these  souls  reside  in  or  about  the 
body. 

Thus,  according  to  the  Balong  of  the  Cameroon,  one  soul  is 
housed  in  the  body  of  the  man  himself,  a  second  may  be  em- 
bodied in  an  elephant,  a  third  in  a  wild  hog,  a  fourth  in  a 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL.  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


413 


leopard,  and  so  on.  This  seems  to  multiply  a  man's  chances  of 
personal  misfortune.  For  every  mishap  suffered  by  one  of  the 
secondary  souls — more  strictly  of  the  body  in  which  it  is  im- 
mured— reacts  on  the  person  concerned,  and  is  able  to  draw 
after  it  disease  and  death.  If,  for  example,  any  one  comes 
borne  from  hunting,  or  from  the  field  in  the  evening,  and  says  : 
1 1  shall  soon  die,'  and  if  death  really  occurs,  it  is  clear  that  one 
of  his  '  outside  souls '  has  been  killed  by  a  hunter  through  the 
Blaughter  of  a  wild  hog  or  a  leopard  or  some  other  animal  in 
which  the  soul  was  incarnate,  and  that  the  man's  death  is  the 
natural  consequence  (Globus,  lxix.  [1896]  277). 

2.  The  act  of  a  supernatural  being. — The  act  of 
a  god  or  of  the  spirits  of  the  dead  is  also  a  cause  of 
death  known  widely  in  the  lower  culture.  Death 
by  lightning  is  an  obvious  instance  of  the  former. 
But  it  is  by  no  means  the  only  one.  Death  by 
accident  is  due  either  to  a  supernatural  being  or  to 
witchcraft. 

On  the  island  of  Keisar,  one  of  the  Moluccas,  sickness  is  some- 
times ascribed  to  the  malignant  spirit  Limsirwali,  or  to  the 
god  who  dwells  in  the  sky  or  the  sun  (the  latter  from  anger  at 
neglect  of  some  old  custom),  or  to  the  spirits  of  the  dead  who 
have  not  been  duly  honoured  (Riedel,  De  sluik-  en  kroesharige 
rassen,  Hague,  1SS6,  p.  419).  The  aborigines  of  Kola  and  Kobroor 
(also  in  the  Moluccas)  hold  that  the  nitu,  or  spirits  of  ancestors, 
kill  the  living  to  feed  on  their  souls  (ib.  p.  271).  The  Navahos 
attribute  a  death  to  the  direct  action  of  Chinde,  described  as 
the  devil— probably  a  malignant  spirit  (1  RBEW  [1881]  123). 
Among  the  causes  assigned  by  various  tribes  of  Negroes  for  a 
death,  the  act  of  a  fetish  and  that  of  a  deceased  relative  are 
enumerated  (Clozel  and  Villamiir,  Coutumes  indigenes  de  la  COte 
d'lvoire,  Paris,  1902,  p.  363  ;  Spieth,  Ewe-Stdmme,  Berlin,  1906, 
p.  255).  The  Andamanese  attribute  '  almost  all  deaths,  sickness, 
and  calamities '  to  the  machination  of  spirits  ;  and  all  sudden 
deaths  are  ascribed  to  the  malign  influence  of  the  evil  spirit  of 
the  woods,  or  to  that  of  the  evil  spirit  of  the  6ea  (JAI  xi.  [1882] 
2S8,  289).  In  the  north-west  of  Australia  every  illness  is  ascribed 
to  the  djuno,  an  evil  spirit  otherwise  known  as  warruga  or 
warrunga  (Internal.  Archiv,  xvi.  [1904]  8). 

3.  Witchcraft. — But  by  far  the  most  usual 
cause  assigned  for  a  death  is  witchcraft — the  mali- 
cious act  of  some  open  or  secret  foe,  performed 
not  by  the  obvious  means  of  violence,  but  by  the 
subtle  and  mystical  arts  of  magic.  This  does  not 
exclude  the  action  of  angry  or  envious  spirits,  for 
they  are  frequently  held  to  inspire  the  evil-doer  ; 
or  his  ill  intentions  may  be  accomplished  by  their 
aid.  The  Mission  Indians  of  California,  indeed,  in 
their  legend  of  the  origin  of  death,  attribute  the 
first  death  in  the  world  to  witchcraft.  No  one  had 
died  before ;  but,  with  the  success  of  the  first 
practitioners  of  witchcraft,  death  came  into  the 
world  (JAFL  xix.  [1906]  55).  Witchcraft,  in  fact, 
is  the  ordinary  reason  given  by  savage  and  bar- 
barous peoples  for  a  death.  On  such  an  occasion, 
one  of  the  foremost  duties  of  the  survivors  is  to 
discover  the  exact  cause  of  death,  and  to  ascertain 
and  punish  the  author  of  the  mischief.  For  this 
purpose  the  ancient  Gauls  used  to  put  widows  to 
the  question  like  slaves  ;  if  detected,  the  unfortun- 
ate wretches  were  executed  with  fire  and  all  sorts 
of  torture  (Cassar,  de'  Bell.  Gall.  vi.  19).  Peoples 
as  far  apart  as  the  Balong  already  mentioned  and 
the  Koryaks  of  Siberia  make  a  post-mortem  ex- 
amination. In  the  Wimmera  district  of  Victoria 
(Australia)  the  clever  old  men  and  relatives  of  the 
deceased  watch  the  corpse  through  the  night. 
They  see  the  wraith  of  the  slayer  approaching 
with  stealthy  steps  to  view  the  result  of  its 
machinations.  Having  apparently  satisfied  itself, 
it  disappears  in  the  direction  of  the  hunting 
grounds  of  its  own  people,  and  the  relatives  of 
the  deceased  know  what  tribe  to  retaliate  on.  In 
New  South  Wales  the  Tharumba  repeatedly  rub 
the  body  with  a  mixture  of  burnt  bark  and  grease. 
Some  of  the  old  men  scrape  a  portion  of  it  off 
when  dry,  and  throw  a  few  pinches  of  it  on  the 
embers  of  a  fire  kindled  for  the  purpose.  By  the 
way  the  smoke  rises  they  judge  the  direction  of 
the  murderer's  camp.  A  party  is  sent  out  to 
avenge  the  death.  After  identifying  the  mur- 
derer by  a  repetition  of  the  process,  this  is  accom- 
plished, not  by  violence,  but  by  incantations  and  by 
terrifying  the  victim,  so  that  he  really  believes  he 
must  die  (Mathews,  Ethnol.  Notes,  1905,  pp.  145,72). 


Among  the  Warramunga  the  divination  is  accom- 
plished differently.  A  little  mound  of  earth  is 
raised  on  the  exact  spot  where  a  man  has  died.  A 
ceremonial  visit  is  paid  to  it  within  a  day  or  two 
after  the  occurrence,  and  a  search  is  made  for  tracks 
of  any  living  creature.  According  to  the  tracks 
found,  conclusions  are  drawn  as  to  the  totem  of 
the  guilty  person.  The  Warramunga  commit  the 
body  not  to  the  earth  but  to  a  tree.  Similar  cere- 
monial visits  are  paid  to  the  tree  for  the  discovery 
of  some  indication  of  the  person  who  has  caused 
the  death.  If  unable  to  identify  the  person  or  his 
tribe,  the  relatives  may  at  least  find  a  beetle  of  a 
kind  supposed  to  resemble  a  man,  and  by  killing 
it  may  ensure  the  death  of  the  enemy,  whoever  he 
may  be.  When  everything  else  fails,  they  pay  a 
further  visit  and  thrust  a  fire-stick  into  the  body, 
with  certain  ceremonies.  Then,  returning  hur- 
riedly to  the  camp,  they  sit  down  quietly  for  two 
days,  abstaining  from  all  food  and  drink.  After 
this  period  has  passed,  each  of  the  persons  who 
has  taken  part  in  the  rite  imbibes  a  mouthful  of 
water  and  spits  it  out  secretly  in  various  direc- 
tions. This  is  regarded  as  sufficient  to  cause 
retribution  to  fall  on  the  author  of  the  crime, 
and  they  expect  to  hear  his  death-cry  (Spencer  - 
Gillenb,  526  ff.). 

Sometimes  the  dead  man  takes  a  more  active 
part  in  the  indication  of  the  cause  of  death.  This 
is  common  among  the  Negroes.  Various  branches 
of  the  Ewhe-stock  go  to  the  house  of  the  trO 
(fetish,  god)  and  there  inquire  through  the  priest, 
who  answers,  speaking  from  an  inner  room,  in  an 
assumed  voice  believed  to  be  that  of  the  ghost 
(Spieth,  Ewe-Stdmme,  258,  260,  286,  492,  636,  752). 
So  in  Europe  it  has  been  believed,  up  to  quite 
recent  times,  that  the  ghost  of  a  murdered  man 
(though  not  through  the  medium  of  priest  or  re- 
ligious rites)  will  communicate  the  fact  of  his 
murder  and  call  for  vengeance  on  the  slayer. 

Other  Negroes  draw  the  information  from  the  corpse.  The 
Agni  of  Indenie  cause  it  to  Ke  carried  through  the  village  on 
the  heads  of  two  men,  who  are  made  by  the  priest  to  run  and 
turn  round  in  all  directions,  until  by  some  movement  or  arrest 
of  the  bearers  it  points  out  the  guilty  person.  The  ceremony 
practised  by  the  Ngoulango  is  not  so  laborious.  Three  stakes 
are  fixed  in  the  earth,  one  representing  the  fetish  (god), 
another  a  deceased  relative,  and  the  third  a  living  inhabitant 
of  the  village,  presumably  suspected  beforehand.  If  the  corpse 
touch  the  Btake  representing  the  fetish  or  the  deceased  relative, 
a  sacrifice  of  a  few  fowls  is  offered,  and  there  is  an  end  of  the 
matter.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  suspected  man  be  indicated, 
he  is  immediately  seized  and  put  to  an  ordeal ;  or,  in  case  of 
avowal,  he  is  led  away  into  the  bush  to  execution  (Clozel  and 
Villamur,  op.  tit.  157,  362). 

In  Africa  the  ordeal  is  usually  by  means  of  some 
sort  of  poison,  and  frequently,  in  the  case  of  chiefs 
and  important  persons,  all  the  relations  are  com- 
pelled to  undergo  the  test.  Among  the  Wadjagga, 
a  Bantu  people  on  the  Eastern  side  of  the  conti- 
nent, however,  it  takes  the  form  of  an  oath  upon 
the  ashes  of  the  fire  at  which  the  funeral  feast  is 
cooked  (Globus,  lxxxix.  198).  Ordeals,  it  need 
hardly  be  said,  were  for  ages  applied  to  persons 
in  Europe  accused  of  causing  death  and  other  evils 
by  means  of  witchcraft.  A  common  method  was 
that  of  the  ordeal  by  water,  reported,  so  early 
as  the  3rd  cent.  B.C.,  by  Phylarchus,  of  the  Thebi 
or  Thibii,  a  tribe  occupying  the  country  about 
Trebizond  (see  Ordeals,  Witchcraft). 

Elsewhere  it  is  deemed  enough  to  convey  to  a 
'  wise  man  '  some  relics  of  the  deceased. 

Among  the  Siusi  of  the  north-west  of  Brazil  on  the  occasion 
of  a  death  not  long  ago,  some  articles  of  clothing,  together 
with  the  alleged  '  poison  '  conjured  by  the  witch-doctor  out  of 
the  body  of  the  patient,  were  sent  after  his  death  to  a  distant 
tribe,  which  included  practitioners  of  renown.  They  inquired 
into  the  matter,  performed  their  conjurations  over  the  relics, 
calling  the  murderer,  and  solemnly  burnt  the  '  poison.'  It  was 
believed,  according  to  a  well-known  principle  of  witchcraft, 
that  at  the  instant  the  '  poison '  fell  into  ashes  the  enemy, 
whoever  he  was,  died  (Globus,  xc.  [1906]  328). 
In  general,  throughout  South  America,  it  would 


414 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


seem  that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  medicine-man  to 
put  himself  into  communication  with  the  spirit- 
world  and  discover  the  culprit,  who,  at  all  events 
among  some  tribes,  is  thereupon  put  to  death,  and 
burnt  with  all  his  family  and  goods.  If  this  were 
omitted  the  deceased  would  himself  avenge  his 
death  on  his  relatives  (Internat.  Archiv,  xiii.  [1900], 
Suppl.  70 ;  Anthropos,  i.  [1906]  880). 

In  old  Tahiti,  people  were  held  to  be  killed  by  the  gods  (atua'), 
either  of  their  own  motion  or  because  they  had  been  bribed  by 
an  enemy.  It  was  the  business  of  the  priest  to  ascertain  to 
which  of  these  alternatives  the  death  was  to  be  attributed.  He 
took  a  canoe  and  paddled  slowly  near  the  house  in  which  the 
corpse  lay,  watching  for  the  flight  of  the  soul,  which  it  was 
believed  he  could  see.  From  the  6hape  assumed  by  the  soul  in 
departing  he  judged  of  the  cause  of  death  (Ellis,  Polyn.  Res., 
Lond.  1832,  i.  398). 

IV.  Abandonment   and    premature    burial. — i. 

Abandonment  of  the  dying. — Among  many  savage 
peoples  it  is  customary  to  abandon  the  dying  to 
their  fate. 

The  Yerkla-mining  of  Australia,  when  death  approaches, 
leave  the  dying  person  alone,  as  comfortably  as  possible,  near 
a  fire,  and  quit  the  neighbourhood,  not  returning  for  a  con- 
siderable time  (Howitt,  450).  The  Bauinanas  of  the  French 
Sudan  with  loud  cries  abandon  a  dying  man,  for  fear  that  he 
may  drag  one  of  them  into  the  grave  with  him  (Steinmetz, 
Rechtsverhaltnisse,  Berlin,  1903,  p.  161).  The  fear  lest  the  eyes 
of  the  dying  man  will  fasten  on  them,  and  his  ghost  then 
molest  and  even  kill  them,  causes  similar  conduct  among  some 
of  the  Ho  in  German  Togo  (Spieth,  632).  The  Selung  of  the 
Mergui  Archipelago,  off  the  coast  of  Burma,  take  the  patient 
across  to  a  desert  island,  and  there  leave  him  (L1  Anthropologic, 
xv.  [1904J  434).  The  Dorachos  of  Central  America  led  a  dying 
person  to  the  woods,  and  left  him,  with  some  cake  or  ears  of 
corn  and  a  gourd  of  water,  to  his  fate  (1  REE  W  116). 

2.  Burial  before  death.— As  an  alternative  to 
leaving  the  sick  or  the  aged  to  die,  they  may  be 
buried  while  still  living. 

The  Indians  of  the  Paraguayan  Chaco,  oppressed  by  the 
feeling  of  helplessness  and  by  superstition,  when  hope  of 
recovery  is  gone,  neglect  the  patient  and  deny  him  food  ;  and, 
lest  he  should  die  in  the  village  during  the  night,  he  is  re- 
moved  to  a  distance,  and  there  left  to  die  in  solitude,  or  death 
is  hastened  by  premature  burial  (Grubb,  Among  the  Indians  of 
the  Far.  Chaco,  1904,  pp.  41,  45).  The  tribes  of  Navitilevu, 
Fiji,  place  the  dying  man  in  the  grave,  with  food  and  water. 
As  long  as  he  can  make  use  of  them,  the  grave  remains  open  ; 
when  he  ceases  to  do  so,  the  earth  is  filled  in  and  the  grave 
closed  (JAI  x.  [1881]  144).  In  the  Gazelle  Peninsula  of  New 
Pomerania,  one  who  is  too  long  in  dying  is  wrapped  in  pandanus 
leaves  and  carried  out  to  the  dead-house  (ARW  x.  [1907 j  309). 
Among  the  Northern  Maidu,  persons  who  were  long  sick  were 
securely  tied  up,  in  a  squatting  position,  in  a  bear-skin,  with 
small  objects  of  personal  use  (the  usual  way  of  preparing  a  body 
for  the  grave),  and  buried  before  death  (Bull.  Am.  Mus.  Nat. 
Hist.  xvii.  [1905]  245).  The  Hottentots  used  either  to  bury  old 
and  superannuated  persona  alive,  or  to  carry  them  away  to  a 
cleft  in  the  mountains,  and  leave  them  with  provisions  for  a 
few  days,  to  be  starved  to  death  or  devoured  by  some  wild 
beast  (Thunberg,  Travels,  Lond.  1795-6,  ii.  194).  So  the  various 
Bantu  tribes  of  South  Africa  either  abandoned  the  dying  or 
buried  them  before  death  (Campbell,  Trav.,  Lond.  1815,  pp.  428, 
515  ;  Kidd,  Essential  Kafir,  Lond.  1904,  p.  247). 

Practices  like  these  may  have  had  more  than 
one  origin.  Economic  causes  doubtless  played 
their  part.  The  care  of  the  living  was  more  im- 
perious than  that  of  the  dying ;  ana,  where  conflict 
arose  between  these  two  duties  (as  it  often  must 
in  savagery),  customs  would  grow  up  out  of  sad 
necessity,  which  would  be  continued  when  the 
necessity  had  ceased.  Such  causes  would  be  aided 
by  the  beliefs  current  in  the  lower  stages  of  cul- 
ture. In  West  Africa  it  is  not  uncommon  that  a 
protracted  sickness  wearies  the  attendants. 

'They  decide  that  the  body,  though  mumbling  inarticulate 
words  and  aimlessly  fingering  with  its  arms,  is  no  longer  occu- 
pied by  its  personal  soul ;  that  has  emerged.  "  He  is  dead  "  ; 
and  they  proceed  to  bury  him  alive.  Yet  they  deny  that  they 
have  done  so.  They  insist  that  he  was  not  alive ;  only  his 
body  was  "moving"'  (Nassau,  Fetichism  in  \V.  Africa,  Lond. 
1904,  p.  64). 

More  potent,  perhaps,  is  the  universal  dread  of 
death  and  horror  of  a  corpse.  This  horror  is  very 
lively  in  the  Yakuts.  Among  them  old  people 
burdened  with  years  or  disease  often  begged  their 
children  to  put  an  end  to  their  life.  The  funeral 
feast  was  held  for  three  days ;  neighbours  and 
friends  were  invited  to  it,  and  the  dying  person 
received   the   place    of   honour   and  the   choicest 


morsels.  Then  he  was  led  out  into  the  forest, 
thrust  into  a  grave  dug  beforehand,  and  buried 
alive,  with  his  arms,  utensils,  provisions,  and 
horses  (BHB  xlvi.  [1902]  212). 

3.  Removal  from  house  or  bed. — Where  it  is  not 
customary  to  go  to  the  length  of  burial  alive, 
horror  of  the  corpse  leads  very  generally  to  the 
removal  of  the  dying  from  among  the  living. 

It  is  a  common  practice,  e.g.,  of  the  North  American  tribeB  to 
carry  a  dying  person  out  of  the  house  or  camp  (1  RBEW  123, 
154,  167,  201 ;  17  RBEW  [1898]  487).  The  Sinhalese  frequently 
take  a  person  dangerously  ill  from  the  house  and  place  him  in 
an  adjoining  temporary  building,  in  order  that,  if  he  dies,  the 
house  may  escape  pollution  (Davy,  Ceylon,  Lond.  1821,  p. 
289).  The  Kamtchadals  are  reported  to  have  had  the  custom 
of  abandoning  the  cabin  where  death  had  taken  place,  because 
they  believed  that  the  judge  of  the  subterranean  world  paid  a 
visit  to  it,  and  caused  all  whom  he  found  there  to  die.  But,  as 
the  construction  of  a  new  cabin  gave  much  trouble  to  people 
who  had  neither  axes  nor  mattocks,  they  took  care  to  trans- 
port the  sick  out  of  their  cabins,  for  fear  that  death  would  sur- 
prise them  there  when  it  was  too  late  (Georgi,  Description 
de  .  .  .  Russie,  St.  Petersburg,  1777,  iii.  91).  In  the  island  of 
Luzon,  among  the  Serranos,  when  a  sick  person  does  not  show 
signs  of  recovery,  a  family  council  is  held  and  a  fixed  sum 
voted  for  his  cure.  When  this  is  spent,  the  patient  is  removed 
from  his  bed  and  laid  upon  a  hide  on  the  ground  outside  the 
house.  A  child  is  posted  to  fan  him  and  keep  off  the  flies,  and 
only  water  is  given  him  until  he  dies  (Sawyer,  lnhab.  of  the 
Philippines,  Lond.  1900,  p.  277).  Among  the  Basuto,  when 
death  is  seen  to  be  at  hand,  the  patient  is  taken  out  of  the  hut 
to  a  screen,  because  it  is  said  the  manes  (melimo)  obtain  easier 
access  to  the  latter  than  to  the  interior  of  the  hut.  In  fact,  a 
hole  is  cut  in:the  screen  to  enable  them  to  enter,  as  they  cannot 
do  so  through  the  doorway  of  mortals.  There  the  patient  dies, 
often  not  without  the  active  assistance  of  the  two  old  women 
who  are  set  to  watch  him  (FL  xv.  [1904]  265). 

The  motive  of  the  procedure  in  all  these  cases 
would  seem  to  be  the  same — the  horror  of  the 
corpse  and  the  fear  of  pollution  of  the  dwelling  by 
its  presence.  A  description  is  given  in  the  Report 
of  the  Palestine  Exploration  tund  for  1902  of  a 
Samaritan  assembly  to  celebrate  the  Feast  of  the 
Passover  in  1898,  at  which  a  woman  became  very 
ill  and  a  cry  was  raised  to  remove  her  to  a  tent 
outside  the  camp,  lest  the  camp  should  be  defiled 
by  a  dead  body — a  ritual  ban  perhaps  derived  from 
some  passages  in  the  Hebrew  law.  In  this  case 
the  defilement  would  extend  to  the  whole  congre- 
gation. 

There  are,  however,  some  cases  of  removal  the 
motive  of  which  is  different.  In  the  Reef  Islands 
there  are  certain  houses  called  '  holy  houses,' 
which,  if  we  may  trust  the  report,  seem  to  be 
connected  with  the  cult  of,  or  at  all  events  with 
the  belief  in,  superior  beings.  These  houses  are 
empty.  If  a  man  is  sick  and  does  not  die  quickly, 
he  is  put  into  one  of  these  '  that  he  may  die 
quickly'  (JAI  xxxiv.  [1904]  230).  Among  the 
Warundi  of  German  East  Africa  the  dying  are 
carried  out  and  placed  on  an  ikitabo  (a  sacred 
circle,  either  public  or  belonging  to  the  family). 
There  the  priests  recite  a  sort  of  litany  consisting 
entirely  of  conjectures  as  to  the  origin  of  the  sick 
man's  malady,  which  appears  to  be  ascribed  to  the 
deceased  father  or  other  manes  of  the  family  (van 
der  Burgt,  Warundi,  1904,  art.  'Temple').  With 
these  we  may  compare  a  remedy  prescribed  by  the 
Ottoman  Jews  for  one  in  extremis.  It  is  to  carry 
him  to  the  cemetery  and  lay  him  down  there  for 
twenty-four  hours.  '  He  may  die  there  ;  but,  if  he 
has  the  good  luck  to  live,  he  will  quickly  make  a 
complete  recovery'  (Milusine,  viii.  [1896-7]  278). 

In  Europe  a  very  wide-spread  custom  is  to  take 
a  dying  man  out  of  bed,  and  to  lay  him  on  the 
earth  or  on  straw.  This  is  practised  from  Ireland 
to  the  Caspian  Sea.  In  the  Malay  Peninsula  a 
dying  man's  mosquito-curtains  are  opened,  '  and  in 
some  cases,  at  all  events.'  he  is  taken  out  of  his  bed 
and  laid  upon  the  floor  (Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  1900, 
p.  398  n.).  A  Nambiitiri  Brahman  in  Malabar  is 
placed  on  a  bed  of  kuia-gx&ss  in  the  verandah,  or 
some  convenient  place  outside  the  foundations  of 
the  house  (E.  Thurston,  Castes  and  Tribes.  Madras, 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


416 


1909,  v.  2]  4).  In  Cochin  a  Nayar  '  is  removed  to  the 
bare  ground  floor,  as  it  is  considered  sacrilegious 
to  allow  the  last  breath  to  escape  while  lying  on  a 
bed  and  in  a  room  with  a  ceiling,  which  last  is 
supposed  to  obstruct  the  free  passage  of  the 
breath '  {Rep.  Census  of  India,  xx.  [1901]  162). 

The  reason  alleged  by  those  who  practise  this 
removal  in  Europe  is  that  a  man  cannot  die  on 
feathers  (sometimes  game-feathers,  sometimes 
those  of  domestic  fowls),  and  consequently  that  to 
lie  on  them  adds  to  his  agonies  and  makes  his 
death  'hard,'  or  'unlucky.'  The  Cheremiss  of 
Kozmodemjansk  declare  that,  if  he  were  allowed 
to  die  on  a  feather-bed  or  a  felt  coverlet,  he  would 
be  forced  in  the  other  world  to  count  the  feathers, 
or  the  hairs  of  the  felt  (Smirnov,  Pop.  finnoises, 
Paris,  1S98,  i.  137).  These  reasons,  however,  seem 
to  be  invented  to  account  for  a  practice  of  which 
the  real  origin  has  been  forgotten.  Alb.  Dieterich 
(Mutter  Erde,  1905,  p.  27)  has  endeavoured  to 
explain  it  as  an  attempt  to  bring  the  dying  man 
into  touch  with  the  earth,  so  that  the  soul  may 

Eass  without  delay  into  the  realm  of  the  dead 
eneath.  Monseur  (RHR  liii.  [1906]  204,  301), 
comparing  it  with  other  usages  relative  to  the 
earth,  attributes  it  simply  to  a  survival  of  the 
custom  of  lying  on  the  earth  at  a  time  when  such 
luxuries  as  bedsteads  and  feathers  were  unknown. 
These  reasons,  however,  do  not  account  for  the 
requirement,  found  in  Germany,  Sweden,  and 
elsewhere,  to  place  the  moribund  person  on  straw, 
and  afterwards  to  burn  the  straw.  So  the  Wends 
in  the  Spreewald  lay  him  on  fresh  straw  spread  on 
the  ground,  '  else  no  one  would  be  willing  to  lie  in 
the  bed  afterwards.'  The  straw  is  subsequently 
burnt  in  the  open  field,  and  the  water  wherewith 
the  corpse  has  been  washed  is  thrown  over  the 
spot  where  the  fire  was  made.  Any  one  who  passes 
across  that  spot  before  the  birds  have  tiown  over  it 
a  few  times  becomes  withered  up  (von  Schulen- 
burg,  Wendisches  Volksthum,  1882,  p.  110).  There 
can  be  little  doubt  that  the  real  object  of  the 
custom  is  to  avoid  the  death-pollution  upon  the 
bed.  It  is  probably  a  survival  of  the  practice  of 
removing  the  patient  from  the  house  before  death. 
It  has  naturally  the  effect  sometimes  of  hastening 
death  ;  and  it  is  performed  in  Europe  avowedly  for 
that  purpose,  in  the  belief  that  it  abridges  the 
sufferings  of  the  dying  and  is  therefore  an  act  of 
kindness.  The  same  purpose  is  assigned  for  the 
removal  of  the  pillow,  which  is  an  obvious 
attenuation  of  the  practice  of  removing  the  patient 
from  bed. 

V.  Separation  of  soul  and  body. — The  usual 
theory  of  the  process  of  death  is  the  separation  of 
the  soul  from  the  body.  The  soul  may,  however, 
separate  from  the  body  before  death,  as  in  dreams. 
Sickness  is  frequently  held  to  be  such  a  separation. 
The  distinction  between  such  a  separation  and 
that  of  death  is  that  the  latter  is  final.  Occasion- 
ally it  is  requisite  that  the  soul  be  caught  as  it 
escapes.  The  population  of  Nias  believe  that  the 
chief  of  a  village,  especially  if  rich  and  possessed 
of  descendants,  has  more  souls  than  one,  of  which 
one  is  an  hereditary  essence  called  the  ehelia. 
This  must  be  received  in  his  mouth  by  the  son  of 
the  dying  man,  if  there  be  a  son ;  if  not,  it  is 
received  in  a  purse  for  the  purpose  of  securing  that 
the  deceased  will  watch  over  the  family  money 
(Modigliani,  Viaggio  a  Nias,  Milan,  1890,  p.  277). 
So  among  the  Greeks  the  nearest  relative  received 
the  last  breath  of  the  dying  man  in  a  kiss. 

Efforts  are  often  made  to  recall  the  soul,  not 
merely  as  a  remedy  for  sickness,  but  to  restore 
one  dead.  They  may  consist  in  simple  cries  to 
the  soul  to  come  back,  as  among  some  Tongking 
tribes  (Lunet  de  Lajonquiere,  Ethnog.  du  Tonkin 
sept.,   Paris,    1906,   pp.    263,   274);    or  they   may 


be  the  regular  incantations  of  an  expert,  similar 
to  those  in  use  during  sickness,  as  among  the 
Dayaks  of  Borneo  (Furness,  Home-Life  of  Borneo 
Head-htmters,  Philad.  1902,  p.  50).  A  survival 
of  some  such  custom  may  be  found  in  Europe, 
on  the  death  of  a  Pope  or  of  a  king  of  Spain. 
In  these  cases  a  high  official  of  the  court  calls 
with  a  loud  voice  three  times  the  name  of  the 
deceased,  and,  receiving  no  reply,  he  certifies  the 
death. 

VI.  Before  the  funeral. — Death  having  occurred, 
a  number  of  significant  customs  are  observed,  only 
some  of  which  can  be  enumerated  here.  Others 
will  be  reserved  for  a  subsequent  section. 

1.  Opening  of  doors  and  windows. — In  the  British 
Islands  and  all  over  Europe  it  is  usual  to  open  all 
doors  and  windows.  Nor  is  the  practice  confined 
entirely  to  the  uneducated  classes.  It  was  reported 
about  twenty  years  ago  (30th  Aug.  1890)  to  have 
been  performed  at  the  death  of  a  dignitary  of  the 
Church  of  England  (NQ,  7th  ser.,  x.  [1890]  170). 
In  France,  Germany,  and  Switzerland  it  is  not 
uncommon  to  take  a  tile  off  the  roof.  This  is 
sometimes  done  before  death,  with  the  object  of 
easing  the  departure  of  the  soul.  For  the  soul 
cannot  escape  unless  the  way  be  made  open  to  it. 
Often,  however,  the  window  is  permitted  to  remain 
open  only  for  an  instant,  the  return  of  the  soul 
being  feared  (Zt.schr.  des  Vereins  fur  Volkskunde 
\  =  ZVV\  xi.  [1901]  267).  In  China  a  hole  is  made 
in  the  roof  (Tylor,  Prim.  Culture,  1871,  i.  409; 
JAI  xxxiii.  [1903]  103) ;  and  this  used  to  be  the 
practice  of  the  Basuto  wherever  a  man  died  within 
the  hut  (Journ.  Afr.  Soe.  iv.  [1905]  204). 

2.  Observances  in  the  house. — Throughout  Europe 
it  is  a  common  practice  to  stop  all  clocks  in  the 
house,  and  to  cover  all  mirrors,  or  to  turn  them 
witli  their  faces  to  the  wall,  immediately  after  a 
death.  It  may  be  conjectured  that  the  latter  was 
done  to  avoid  puzzling  and  misleading  the  ghost  in 
its  efforts  to  quit  the  house.  All  water- vessels  are 
emptied.  Various  reasons  are  assigned  for  this 
custom,  the  most  usual  being  perhaps  a  desire 
to  prevent  the  ghost  from  drowning  itself.  The 
ghost  is  certainly  conceived  in  many  places  as 
thirsty  or  needing  a  bath  ;  and  a  special  jar  or 
bowl  of  water  is  provided  for  its  use.  In  Greece, 
bread  and  water  are  placed  in  the  death-chamber 
(JAI  xxiii.  [1894]  37).  In  some  parts  of  France  a 
jar  of  water  is  placed  beside  the  corpse  (RTP  xiv. 
[1899]  245).  The  Wends  of  the  Spreewald  place 
a  dish  filled  with  water  under  the  bench  on  which 
the  corpse  is  laid  out,  for  which  a  sanitary  reason 
is  now  given  (von  Sehulenburg,  op.  cit.  112).  The 
Mordvins  put  a  cup  of  water  on  the  window-sill  of 
a  dying  man's  house,  for,  on  quitting  its  corporeal 
envelope,  the  spirit  must  wash  (Smirnov,  i.  357). 
Hindu  rites  require  the  heir  (but  apparently  not 
until  after  cremation)  to  place  in  the  habitation  of 
the  deceased  a  small  vessel  full  of  water,  over 
which  he  ties  a  thread  to  the  ceiling,  and  lets  it 
hang  down  as  a  sort  of  ladder  for  the  prana  (life- 
breath,  spirit)  to  descend  and  slake  its  thirst 
during  the  ten  days  following  ;  and  a  handful  of 
rice  is  placed  as  food  every  morning  beside  the 
vessel  (Dubois-Beauchamp,  Hindu  Manners*,  Oxf. 
1906,  p.  488).  It  is  probable,  therefore,  that  the 
object  of  throwing  away  water  standing  in  any 
vessels  for  household  use  is  to  prevent  the  death- 
pollution  conceived  as  contamination  by  the  touch 
of  the  ghost.  This  is  confirmed  by  the  practice  in 
some  districts  of  the  Landes  in  the  south-west  of 
France  where,  after  the  death  of  the  father  or 
mother,  for  a  whole  year  the  cooking  vessels  ars 
covered  with  a  cloth  and  their  previous  order  re- 
versed, though  the  reason  now  alleged  for  toe 
practice  is  to  recall  the  memory  of  the  deceased 
and  renew  the  grief  (Cuzacq,  Naissance,  mariage, 


416 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


et  decks,   1902,   p.   162).      See  also   §§   VI.    9   and 
XVII.  I  below. 

3.  Telling  the  bees. — Another  custom  is  that  of 
'  telling  the  bees.'  When  a  Dayak  dies,  as  soon  as 
the  body  is  removed  the  head  of  the  household 
calls  over  the  names  of  all  the  children  and  other 
members  of  the  household,  to  prevent  the  soul  of 
the  dead  from  alluring  their  souls  away,  in  which 
case  they  would  die.  This  ceremony  is  repeated 
on  the  return  from  the  funeral  (Int.  Arch.  ii. 
[1889]  182).  The  catastrophe  to  be  prevented  here 
is  exactly  that  which  it  is  desired  to  prevent  by 
the  practice  common  in  Europe  of  telling  the  bees 
of  the  death  of  their  owner.  Some  one  goes  to  the 
hive,  knocks,  and  whispers  the  fact  to  the  tenants, 
sometimes  also  informing  them  who  their  new 
owner  is.  A  humming  heard  inside  the  hive  is 
taken  as  an  indication  that  they  will  remain.  If 
the  ceremony  be  not  performed,  they  will  all  die  or 
go  away.  Sometimes  they  are  put  into  mourning 
by  attaching  a  piece  of  crape  to  the  hive,  or  the 
hive  is  turned  round  or  removed,  or  a  piece  of  turf 
laid  on  it.  These  are  all  expedients  against  the 
attempt  of  the  ghost  to  lure  the  bees  away,  though 
other  interpretations  have  been  given  by  the 
people  who  practise  them  and  who  have  lost  the 
real  reason.  The  precaution  is  by  no  means  con- 
fined to  bees.  In  Cornwall  the  bird-cages  and 
indoor  plants  are  put  into  black.  In  various  parts 
of  France  all  the  domestic  animals  must  be  in- 
formed, crape  must  be  attached  to  the  pigsties 
and  to  the  cat.  Even  the  trees  must  be  told,  and 
sometimes  put  into  mourning.  Elsewhere  similar 
customs  obtain  (Choice  Notes,  FL,  1859,  pp.  65,  90, 
180, 210 ;  Sebillot,  Folk-lore  de France,  Paris,  1904-7, 
iii.  103,  375 ;  Lloyd,  Peas.  Life  in  Sweden,  Lond. 
1870,  p.  131).  Among  the  Cheremiss  the  people 
even  avoid  watching  a  funeral  procession  from  the 
window,  for  fear  that  the  dead  man  may  take 
them  with  him  (Smirnov,  i.  137).  The  prohibition 
against  watching  a  funeral  procession  from  a  win- 
dow is  not  uncommon. 

4.  Wailing  and  dirges. — The  custom  of  wailing 
is  universal.  The  wail  frequently  begins  before 
death,  as  among  the  Hottentots,  who  are  said  to 
surround  a  dying  person,  and  '  set  up  such  a  terrible 
howling  as  were  enough,  one  would  think,  to  fright 
the  soul  out  of  the  body.'  But  this  is  nothing  to 
what  succeeds  the  death.  '  The  kraal  shakes  under 
the  raging  din ;  you  hear  them  miles  off'  ( P.  Kolben, 
Present  State  of  the  Cape,  Lond.  1731,  p.  312). 
Where  the  funeral  does  not  take  place  the  same 
day,  the  wailing  often  breaks  out  with  fresh  force 
on  that  occasion  ;  and  it  is  kept  up  for  periods  of 
varying  length  among  different  peoples — from  a  few 
hours  to  months,  or  even  years.  Naturally,  in  the 
latter  case  it  is  only  certain  relatives  (chiefly  widows 
of  the  deceased)  who  indulge  in  it,  and  only  at 
stated  times  of  the  day.  Widows  and  other  rela- 
tives, among  many  peoples,  go  to  wail  at  the  grave. 
The  wailing  is  renewed  at  certain  intervals  of  time 
— on  the  anniversary  of  death,  or  at  certain  feasts, 
or  on  the  occasion  of  the  exhumation  of  the  bones. 
Elsewhere,  among  the  Kaffirs,  a  son  away  at  a 
distance,  when  his  father  dies,  must  wail  on  his 
return  every  time  he  enters  the  kraal  during  the 
next  six  months  (Kidd,  250  f.).  In  many  cases  the 
men  join  in  the  wailing,  while  in  others,  perhaps 
among  related  peoples,  it  is  left  chiefly  or  entirely 
to  women.  It  may  be  accompanied  (at  first,  at 
all  events)  by  the  wildest  demonstrations  of  grief, 
amounting  to  temporary  insanity. 

At  a  stage  less  than  that,  Dr.  Junker  describes  the  conduct 
of  the  women  and  slaves  of  a  ruler  of  the  A-Sande  of  the  Sudan. 
Sixty  or  seventy  women  went  round  the  seriba  wailing,  turning 
somersaults,  rolling  in  the  dust,  pretending  to  search  in  every 
corner,  crying  out,  '  O  my  lord  !  Where  is  Fadl  'Allah  ?  Lie  1 
Lie  ! '  Tbey  crawled  about  on  hands  and  knees  under  the  pro- 
jecting .  oofs,  constantly  howling  and  lamenting.     In  the  even- 


ing, with  music  and  dance,  the  men  joined  in  the  wailing,  which 
lasted  all  night.  The  next  day  a  raid  was  made  upon  the 
wardrobe  of  the  deceased,  and  every  woman  who  could  get 
hold  of  an  article  of  his  costume  put  it  on,  and  went  round  in 
procession,  until  the  ceremony  appeared  like  a  fancy-dress  ball. 
All  their  heads  were  strewn  with  ashes,  that  covered  with  dirt 
their  faces  and  bodies  as  they  rolled  and  tumbled  in  the  dust. 
The  proceedings  lasted  for  fifteen  days,  becoming  gradually  less 
and  less  an  exhibition  of  sorrow,  and  more  and  more  the  subject 
of  evident  enjoyment,  until  they  finally  degenerated  into  a 
festival  of  music  and  dancing  (Frobenius,  Heiden-Neger  d.  dgypt. 
Sudan,  Berlin,  1893,  p.  408). 

In  the  Aaru  Archipelago,  when  a  member  of  the 
family  dies,  all  the  women  leave  the  house  with 
hair  hanging  loose,  to  wail  upon  the  shore,  tum- 
bling head  over  heels,  and  smearing  their  bodies 
with  dirt  and  mud  (Riedel,  Sluilc-  en  kroesharige 
rassen,  268).  Even  in  a  much  higher  civilization, 
the  conduct  of  the  mourners  is  characterized  by 
excess.  At  the  death  of  a  Maltese,  two  or  three 
women,  called  neuuieha,  were  hired.  Dressed  in 
long  mourning  cloaks,  they  entered  the  house 
singing  a  dirge.  After  damaging  and  destroying 
certain  parts  of  the  property  of  the  deceased,  they 
threw  themselves  on  their  knees  before  the  coffin, 
singing  the  praises  of  the  dead,  and  cutting  off 
handfuls  of  their  hair,  which  they  spread  over  the 
coffin  (BusuttO,  Holiday  Cust.  in  Malta,  1894,  p. 
128). 

It  is  obvious  that  the  wailing,  though  doubtless 
originating  in  emotions  common  to  humanity,  has 
everywhere  taken  on  more  or  less  of  a  ritual  char- 
acter. This  is  seen  alike  in  the  excesses,  in  the 
fact  that  it  is  emphasized  almost  everywhere  for 
men,  in  the  prescriptions  of  time  and  place  when 
and  where  it  is  to  be  repeated,  and  in  the  more 
measured  forms  into  which  it  tends  to  pass.  Among^ 
the  latter  are  the  dirges  equally  familiar  in  all 
quarters  of  the  globe.  There  is  little  difference  in 
the  substance  of  dirges. 

'Ah,  ah  me  !  Why  hast  thou  died  ?  Was  there  lacking  to 
thee  food  or  drink  ?  Why  then  hast  thou  died  ?  Ah,  ah  me  1 
Hadst  thou  not  a  beautiful  wife?  Why  then  hast  thou  died?1 
and  so  on,  runs  the  lament  in  the  Ruthenian  tongue  of  the 
ancient  pagan  Prussians  (FL  xii.  [1901]  300).  The  Hereros  of 
German  S.  W.  Africa  cry  :  '  Now  he  is  dead,  he  who  always  was 
so  good  ;  always  he  slaughtered  cattle ;  always  did  he  say, 
"  Take  only,  take  only  " '  (S.  A/r.  FL  Journ.  i.  [1879]  63).  For 
one  killed  in  war  the  Mundurucus  of  South  America  chant : 
1  Thou  art  dead  ;  we  will  avenge  thee.  For  that  we  are  in  the 
world,  to  avenge  our  own  who  fall  in  fight.  Our  enemies  are 
not  braver  or  more  men  than  we  are.  My  brother,  my  son,  we 
come  to  bury  thee.  Thou  art  dead  ;  to  this  end  wast  thou 
born.  Thou  art  dead  in  war  because  thou  wast  brave  ;  to  that 
end  our  fathers  and  mothers  brought  us  into  the  world.  We 
must  not  have  fear  of  enemies.  Who  dies  in  war,  dies  with 
honour — not  like  one  who  dies  of  sickness.'  And  reply  is  made 
by  women  in  the  name  of  the  dead  :  '  My  mother,  my  wife,  you 
will  die  in  your  hammock  ;  I  died  in  war  because  I  was  brave ' 
(Int.  Arch.  xiii.  Suppl.  114). 

Probably  these  specimens  fairly  represent  the 
general  matter  of  the  dirges :  a  gentle  reproach 
to  the  deceased  for  dying,  and  thus  leaving  those 
who  were  dear  to  him  ;  praise  of  him — sometimes, 
as  in  the  Irish  '  keens,'  in  great  detail ;  and  vows 
to  avenge  him.  In  the  more  rudimentary  cultures, 
dirges  have  not  developed  ;  the  wailing,  so  far  as  it 
is  articulate,  is  confined  to  a  few  words  or  phrases. 

The  ritual  character  of  the  wailing  is  expressed 
very  clearly,  not  only  in  the  dirges,  but  also  in  the 
practice  of  hiring  mourners  to  wail. 

Among  the  Gros  Ventres  and  Mandans  of  Dakota,  '  those  who 
mourn  are  always  paid  for  it  in  some  way  by  the  other  friends 
of  the  deceased,  and  those  who  mourn  the  longest  are  paid  the 
most'  (1  RBEW  161).  The  Chiriguanos  of  South  America 
caused  their  dead  to  be  bewailed  thrice  a  day — morning,  noon, 
and  evening — for  several  months  at  the  grave  by  women  hirec" 
for  the  purpose  (Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  105).  In  Malta,  as  we 
have  seen,  and  throughout  the  Nearer  East,  hired  wailers  are 
universally  employed.  Among  the  Bedui  of  Abyssinia  it  is 
the  prostitutes  who  act  in  this  capacity  (Munzinger,  Ostafr. 
Stud.2,  Basel,  1883,  p.  150).  In  Calabria,  so  necessary  is  wailing 
deemed  that,  if  a  stranger  dies,  women  are  hired  to  attend 
his  funeral  and  wail  over  the  dead  (Ramage,  Wanderings,  1S68, 
p.  73). 

The  reasons  for  the  rite  have  been  a  subject  of 
much  discussion.  There  may  be  more  reasons  than 
one.     In  the  first  place,  there  can  be  little  doubt 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


417 


that  excessive  demonstrations  of  grief  may,  in  some 
cases,  be  traced  to  the  desire  to  avoid  suspicion  of 
having  been  accessory  to  the  death.  Bentley  ex- 
pressly asserts  that  in  the  Congo  basin,  -where  the 
belief  in  witchcraft  is  so  powerful  and  so  cruel, 
an  ostentatious  exhibition  of  grief  is  to  avoid  the 
charge  of  witchcraft  {Pioneering  on.  the  Congo,  Lond. 
1900,  ii.  259).  In  Angola,  however,  the  noise  is 
supposed  'to  drive  away  the  spirits'  (JAFL  ix. 
[1896]  16).  Similarly,  it  is  believed  by  the  Klamath 
Indians  of  the  north-west  coast  of  the  United  States 
that  for  three  days  during  the  funeral  ceremonies 
the  soul  is  in  danger  from  the  O-mah-d,  or  demon. 
'  To  preserve  it  from  this  peril,  a  fire  is  kept  up  at 
the  grave,  and  the  friends  of  the  deceased  howl 
around  it  to  scare  away  the  demon '  (1 RBEW  \07). 
The  Basuto  hold  that  the  spirits  (we  may  assume 
that  the  ancestral  spirits,  including  perhaps  the 
immediately  deceased,  are  meant)  become  enraged 
with  any  one  who  is  so  heartless  as  not  to  cry  at 
the  funeral  of  friend  or  relation,  and  punish  him 
with  some  terrible  sickness  (Martin,  Basutoland, 
1903,  p.  92).  In  some  of  the  Moluccas  the  wailing 
is  intended  to  affect  the  departed,  to  bring  the 
spirit  to  its  senses,  or  to  render  it  conscious  of  its 
new  condition  (Riedel,  op.  cit.  465). 

That  the  wailing  is  meant  to  affect  the  departed 
in  some  way  seems  to  follow  from  the  contents  of 
the  dirges,  and  from  the  fact  that  they  are  in  many 
cases  (perhaps  usually)  addressed  directly  to  him. 
The  sorrow  expressed,  the  praises,  the  appeals  to 
return,  cannot  but  be  supposed  to  have  an  effect  on 
the  spirit,  which  is  believed  to  be  hovering  near 
and  to  partake  in  the  ceremonies  performed.  A 
wide  and  careful  comparison  of  the  customs  of  the 
South  American  Indians  has  led  Theodor  Koch  to 
infer  that  the  native  is  fully  convinced  that  the 
dirges  are  understood  by  the  deceased ;  and  he 
suggests  that  the  chief  motive  is  conciliation — 
the  placation  of  one  whose  natural  disposition 
would  be  hostile  [Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  114,  117). 
That  this  motive  does  operate  seems  certain.  A 
striking  example  is  furnished  by  the  Ja-Luo  of 
East  Africa.  When  a  person  dies,  the  whole  vil- 
lage wails  with  great  fervour  for  days,  if  not  for 
months,  and  at  stated  intervals,  according  to  the 
conventions  laid  down  for  the  case.  When  a  barren 
woman  dies,  the  wailing  is  commenced  in  the  usual 
way.  The  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  deceased 
hasten  to  the  place  ;  and  the  first  who  arrives  takes 
a  sharp  acacia-thorn,  sticks  it  into  the  sole  of  the 
corpse's  foot,  and  breaks  it  off.  Immediately  all 
wailing  ceases,  and  it  is  never  renewed  (JAI  xxxiii. 
344).  Hobley,  who  reports  this  ceremony,  could 
obtain  no  account  of  its  object.  There  cannot, 
however,  be  much  doubt  that  the  thorn  is  intended 
to  prevent  the  deceased  from  walking  after  death 
and  troubling  the  survivors.  (A  similar  case  is 
reported  from  the  Moluccas  by  Riedel,  op.  cit.  81  ; 
see  also  §  XI.  2  below.)  A  childless  woman  would 
naturally  be  envious  and  malicious,  and  would  have 
no  descendants  over  whose  well-being  she  might  be 
supposed  to  watch.  Released,  therefore,  from  the 
fear  that  she  would  leave  the  grave  for  hostile 
purposes,  they  would  have  no  further  motive  for 
conciliating  her. 

But  it  cannot  be  admitted  that  fear  is  the  only 
reason  for  wailing.  There  is  abundant  evidence 
that  the  dead  are  believed  to  regard  their  surviving 
relatives — in  particular,  their  descendants — with  a 
measure  of  affection  (at  least  of  friendly  interest), 
not  unmixed  indeed  with  caprice,  that  they  are 
often  dependent  on  them  for  the  sacrifices  and 
other  means  of  rendering  comfortable  their  exist- 
ence in  the  world  of  the  departed,  and  that  they 
grant  them  favours  and  good  fortune  if  satisfied 
with  their  treatment  and  general  conduct.  In 
these  circumstances,  it  seems  inevitable  to  con- 
VOL.  iv. — 27 


elude  that  the  wailing  is,  in  part  at  all  events, 
a  genuine  expression  of  affection,  and  is  in- 
tended to  call  forth  corresponding  feelings  in  the 
deceased. 

5.  Toilet  of  the  corpse. — Among  the  earliest  cares 
after  a  death  is  the  toilet  of  the  corpse.  The 
Yakuts  perform  this  ceremony  before  death,  in 
order  doubtless  to  avoid  embarrassment  to  the 
relatives  by  the  defilement  of  death  (RHR  xlvi. 
208).  The  body  is  usually  washed.  In  the  lower 
stages  of  civilization  it  is  often  merely  painted. 
Whether  washed  or  not,  it  is  in  these  stages 
painted.  The  colour  varies,  but  in  the  vast  major- 
ity of  cases  recorded  it  is  red.  The  bones  of 
Neolithic  dead  in  Europe  are  frequently  found 
painted  with  red.  Some  of  the  Australian  tribes 
rub  off  the  outside  skin,  leaving  the  white  under- 
skin  exposed — a  practice  not  unconnected  with  the 
belief  that  the  dead  return  white,  as  ghosts  or 
white  men  (cf.,  e.g.,  Parker,  Euahlayi,  91).  The 
eyes  are  carefully  closed,  and  the  eyelids  weighted 
to  keep  them  shut.  The  uncanny  look  of  a  corpse 
with  staring  eyes  accounts,  partly,  but  not  fully, 
for  the  universality  of  this  practice.  The  ghost 
has  not  yet  wholly  deserted  his  mortal  tenement, 
and  the  reason  given  by  the  Nicobar  Islanders  is 
probably  not  far  wrong,  namely,  that  it  is  to  pre- 
vent the  ghost  from  seeing  (Ind.  Cens.  1901,  iii. 
208).  At  least  it  prevents  the  eerie  feeling  of  the 
survivors  that  they  are  being  watched.  The  best 
clothes  of  the  deceased  are  commonly  put  on  the 
body.  Very  often,  relatives  and  friends  contri- 
bute new  clothes  for  the  purpose.  Among  many 
peoples,  as  among  the  Chinese,  and,  indeed,  among 
European  peoples,  the  deceased  has  in  life  prepared 
special  clothes,  for  the  dead  must  enter  the  spirit- 
world  in  their  best  array.  Sometimes,  as  in  various 
districts  of  Germany,  they  are  buried  in  their 
wedding-clothes.  Ornaments,  jewels,  and  parti- 
cularly amulets,  are  not  omitted.  By  a  parsimony 
easy  to  understand,  some  peoples  remove  the  most 
valuable  clothing  and  ornaments  before  cremation 
or  burial,  but  they  are  more  usually  left.  Where 
shoes  are  worn,  the  deceased  is  shod,  for  he  has  a 
long  journey  to  take.  Such,  for  example,  is  the 
custom  in  many  parts  of  Europe ;  and  it  extends 
in  Great  Britain  as  far  back  at  least  as  the  Late 
Celtic  period.  The  toilet  is  concluded  by  binding 
the  corpse  in  the  attitude  in  which  it  is  to  be  buried 
or  otherwise  disposed  of.  This  attitude  in  all  the 
lower  planes  of  culture  is  very  generally  squatting, 
as  we  find  among  the  pre-historic  dead  of  Europe. 
It  is  often  explained  as  that  of  the  infant  in  its 
mother's  womb  ;  more  probably  it  is  that  of  natural 
rest.  If  necessary,  the  sinews,  as  among  the  Basuto 
(Journ.  Afr.  Soc.  v.  357),  or  even  the  backbone, 
as  among  the  Bechuana  (JAI  xxxv.  [1905]  308), 
may  be  cut  to  admit  of  the  body  being  bound  in 
the  proper  position.  Among  the  Slavic  popula- 
tions of  Germany,  as  well  as  among  the  Masurs, 
it  is  customary  to  throw  out  the  water  used  for 
washing  the  corpse,  together  with  the  vessel  con- 
taining it,  after  the  coffin  as  the  funeral  leaves 
the  house,  by  way  of  precaution  against  haunting. 
In  Silesia  the  water  and  water-vessel  are  buried 
where  no  one  will  step  over  them,  else  they  will 
cause  a  wasting  disease.  The  Wends  scatter  millet 
upon  the  poured-out  water,  for  this  will  prevent 
the  birds  from  eating  it  when  afterwards  sown 
(Tetzner,  Slawen  in  Deutschland,  Brunswick, 
1902,  p.  375;  Tbppen,  Aberglauben  aus  Masuren-, 
Dantzig,  1867,  p.  108;  ZVV  iii.  [1893]  150;  von 
Schulenburg,  op.  cit.  p.  110).  The  Negroes  in 
Jamaica  throw  out  the  water  after  the  hearse  or 
upon  the  grave  (FL  xv.  206,  88).  On  the  other 
hand,  it  is  said  to  be  the  custom  in  Oleai,  one  of 
the  Caroline  Islands,  to  drink  the  water  in  which 
dead  children  have  been  washed  (Globus,  lxxxviii. 


418 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


[1905]  20).     Possibly  this  is  a  means  of  securing 
that  the  children  shall  be  born  again. 

6.  Mummification. — The  process  of  mummify- 
ing, or  drying  up  the  body,  either  with  or  without 
embalmment,  is  widely  practised. 

In  Australia  the  Unghi  occasionally  dry  the  body  in  the  smoke 
of  a  fire  made  with  green  boughs  of  a  species  of  sandalwood, 
and  then  carry  it  about  to  visit  the  places  frequented  by  the 
deceased  during  his  life.  The  Kaiabara  also  dry  the  body  of  a 
man  of  note,  and  carry  it  about  for  six  months  (Howitt,  467, 
469).  The  same  rough-and-ready  way  of  preparing  a  corpse  is 
found  more  or  less  throughout  the  west  of  Africa.  It  is  thus 
that  a  Niamniam  chief  in  the  Upper  Nile  basin,  and  a  king  of 
the  Warundi  in  German  East  Africa,  are  prepared  for  burial 
(Frobenius,  op.  cit.  409;  van  der  Burgt,  40).  Some  of  the 
tribes  of  British  Central  Africa  attain  the  result  by  repeatedly 
rubbing  the  corpse  with  boiled  maize  (Werner,  Brit.  Cent.  A/r., 
Lond.  1906,  p.  163 ;  Journ.  Afr.  Soc.  v.  434).  The  body  of  the 
king  of  the  Baganda  was  squeezed  dry,  the  viscera  being  first 
removed,  butter  rubbed  into  it,  and  the  viscera  then  replaced 
{JAI  xxxii.  [1902]  44).  The  Baoule  of  the  Ivory  Coast  take  out 
the  intestines,  wash  them  with  palm-wine  or  European  alcohol, 
introduce  into  the  cavity  alcohol  and  salt,  afterwards  replacing 
the  intestines  and  sewing  up  the  body.  These  and  other  pre- 
parations, however,  do  not  entirely  prevent  corruption ;  but  it 
comes  to  an  end  in  about  three  weeks,  giving  way  to  desiccation, 
and  the  body  ultimately  presents  the  appearance  of  an  Egyptian 
mummy  (Clozel  and  Villamur,  115).  Some  Philippine  tribes  dry 
the  corpse  by  fire,  while  among  the  Betsileo  and  Antankarana 
of  Madagascar,  as  frequently  in  the  South  Seas,  it  is  dried  in  the 
air,  the  fluids  being  assisted  to  escape.  By  this  process,  in  Erub 
and  the  Murray  Islands,  it  is  described  by  Haddon  as  becoming 
almost  as  light  as  papier  mdckA  (Sawyer,  Philippines,  258,  277; 
Madagascar  au  dAbut  du  z&  siecle,  1902,pp.  282,  286 ;  Haddon, 
Torres  Str.  Exped.  vi.  [1908]  136,  Head-Hunters,  Lond.  1901,  p. 
91).  The  bodies  of  chiefs  in  the  Society  Islands  were  dried  in  the 
sun,  the  more  corruptible  parts  removed,  the  moisture  extracted, 
and  a  species  of  embalmment  practised  with  fragrant  oils  (Ellis, 
Polyn.  Res.  i.  400).  A  number  of  tribes  in  America,  both  North 
and  South,  practise  desiccation,  usually  by  fire.  Some  of  the 
former  inhabitants  of  Virginia  and  the  more  southerly  Atlantic 
States  used  to  perform  a  very  elaborate  process  in  the  case  of 
their  kings  and  other  important  men,  disembowelling  them  and 
filling  the  cavity  with  beads,  celts,  and  so  forth,  or,  in  some 
cases,  removing  the  flesh  altogether  and  preserving  it  separately 
or  not  at  all  (1  RBEW 131,  132  ;  Int.  Arch.  xiii.  Suppl.  55,  56,  62, 
79,  81,  88,  93,  103).  The  practice  of  desiccation  is  very  ancient. 
Not  only  are  buried  mummified  bodies  constantly  found  in  the 
seats  of  the  older  civilizations  of  South  America ;  they  have  also 
been  found  in  pre-historic  graves  in  North  America. 

The  object  of  mummifying  is  in  many  cases,  as 
it  was  in  ancient  Egypt,  to  preserve  the  body  as 
a  permanent  habitation,  or  at  least  as  a  place  of 
resort,  for  the  soul.  It  is  not  unconnected  with 
the  cult  of  the  dead  (see  Ancestor- worship 
[Egyp-]»  vol.  i.  p.  440,  and  *  Egyptian '  art.  below, 
p.  458).  Where  other  peoples  set  up  images  of 
the  deceased,  those  who  practised  desiccation  or 
embalmment  were  enabled  to  keep  the  bodies 
themselves  without  difficulty. 

Thus,  the  ancient  Macrobioi  put  the  body,  after  drying  it, 
covering  it  with  plaster  and  painting  it  like  the  living  man, 
into  a  hollow  block  of  crystal,  set  it  up  in  the  house  for  a  year, 
and  offered  sacrifices  to  it,  afterwards  removing  it  and  setting 
it  up,  with  similar  blocks,  round  the  city  (Herod,  iii.  24).  The 
aborigines  of  Virginia  and  Carolina  placed  the  bodies  of  their 
kings  and  rulers  in  a  large  hut  under  the  care  of  priests  or 
medicine-men,  apparently  for  a  similar  purpose  (1  RBEW  131). 

Elsewhere,  as  among  the  Bangala  of  the  Upper 
Congo  {JAI  xxxix.  [1909]  451)  and  other  African 
tribes,  and  in  the  South  Sea  Islands,  mummifica- 
tion is  a  means  of  preserving  the  body  until  a  con- 
venient time  for  the  funeral,  which  is  frequently 
postponed,  for  one  reason  or  another,  over  months 
or  even  years.  But  this  object  does  not  of  necessity 
exclude  the  former. 

7.  Feeding  the  dead. — Many  other  observances 
take  place,  which  we  need  not  describe  here. 
Two,  however,  may  be  referred  to.  The  sitting  in 
state  of  the  dead,  in  the  Aaru  Archipelago  of  the 
Moluccas,  has  already  been  mentioned.  While 
he  so  sits,  food  is  offered  him  by  the  members  of 
his  family.  Offerings  of  food  and  drink  to  the 
dead  before  burial  are  frequent  in  the  lower  cul- 
ture ;  sometimes,  as  among  the  Th6  of  Northern 
Tongking,  they  are  even  placed  in  his  mouth. 
These  _  offerings  are  found  in  both  hemispheres. 
Even  in  modern  Europe  they  are  not  unknown. 

In  the  Department  of  Loir-et-Cher,  France,  everything  in  the 
house  that  is  eatable  is  thrown  into  the  death-chamber  (RJ'P 


xv.  [1900]  382).  De  la  Martiniere  reports,  in  the  17th  cent.,  that 
in  Russia,  after  death,  it  was  usual  to  bring  a  basin  of  holy 
water  for  the  bouI  to  bathe,  and  to  place  a  piece  of  bread  on  the 
corpse's  head,  that  he  might  not  die  of  hunger  on  the  long 
journey  before  him  (ZVV  xi.  435).  On  account  of  the  possi- 
bility that  the  ghost  will  put  his  finger  in  it  to  taste  it,  the 
watchers  of  the  corpse  about  Konigsberg,  in  the  east  of  Prussia, 
avoid  drinking  brandy  {Am  Urquell,  ii.  [1891]  80). 

A  different  precaution  was  taken  in  the  north-east  of  Scot- 
land, where,  '  immediately  on  death,  a  piece  of  iron,  such  as  a 
knitting-wire  or  a  nail,  was  stuck  into  whatever  meal,  butter, 
cheese,  flesh,  or  whisky  [was]  in  the  house,  to  prevent  death 
from  entering  them'  (Gregor,  Folh-Lore  of  N.E.  Scot.  1881, 
p.  206).  Although  in  recent  times  it  was  believed  that  corrup- 
tion followed  the  omission  of  this  precaution,  it  is  probable  that 
at  an  earlier  period  it  was  believed  that  the  ghost  partook  of 
them.  Iron  is  a  well-known  preservative  against  the  attacks  of 
supernatural  beings. 

8.  The  wake. — A  formal  announcement  of  the 
death,  and  an  invitation  to  the  kindred  and  others 
whom  it  may  concern  to  come  and  perform  the 
funeral  rites,  are  given  by  messenger  or  by  drum, 
or,  at  the  present  day  in  many  communities  in  low 
civilization,  by  firing  guns.  During  the  interval 
between  the  toilet  of  the  corpse  and  its  final  dis- 
posal it  is  watched — a  ceremony  known  in  this 
country  as  the  wake,  because  it  involves  one  or 
more  all-night  sittings. 

The  corpse  of  an  Australian  of  the  Wimmera  district  of  Vic- 
toria is  watched  by  the  clever  old  men  and  relatives,  for  the 
purpose  of  gaining  a  hint  where  to  look  for  the  slayer  by  witch- 
craft (Mathews,  Ethnol.  Notes,  146).  Elsewhere  in  Australia 
the  object  is  to  guard  the  corpse  'from  the  spirits'  (Parker, 
op.  cit.  86).  In  this  they  agree  with  the  Sabobas  of  California, 
who  hold  that  until  burial  the  soul  hovers  near  the  corpse,  and 
a  certain  demon  is  on  the  watch  to  seize  it ;  and  this  is  prevented 
only  by  the  vigilance  of  the  survivors  (JAFL  xvi.  [1903]  169). 
Among  the  Oaros  of  Assam  the  watchers  are  kept  awake  by  the 
young  men  of  the  village,  who  dress  up  as  wild  beasts  and  enter 
the  house,  *  to  frighten  the  women  with  their  howls  and  antics.' 
More  probably,  the  real  reason  is  to  frighten  away  the  ghost  or 
other  evil-disposed  spirits  (Playfair,  The  Garos,  Lond.  1909,  p. 
107).  The  Koryaks,  who  practise  cremation  and  burn  the  body 
on  the  day  of  the  death,  or  a  day  or  two  after,  allow  no  one  to 
sleep  while  the  corpse  is  in  the  house.  The  deceased  is  con- 
sidered still  a  member  of  the  family,  and,  to  entertain  him, 
they  even  play  cards  on  his  body  {Jesup  Exped.  vi.  [1908]  110). 
Cards  are,  of  course,  a  modern  introduction  from  the  Russians ; 
but  they,  no  doubt,  replace  some  other  mode  of  amusement 
necessary  to  keep  the  watchers  awake.  So  in  some  of  the 
Moluccas,  while  children  watch  the  dead  in  a  separate  apart- 
ment, smoking  and  drinking  go  on,  and  cards  are  played,  the 
night  before  the  corpse  is  prepared  for  burial.  In  others  of  the 
islands  the  corpse  is  watched  until  it  is  put  into  the  coffin,  and 
the  watchers  ask  riddles  and  play  games  to  keep  awake.  Two 
days  and  nights  it  sits  in  Btate,  clothed  and  adorned  with  corals, 
gold,  and  silver.  The  soul  remains  in  the  house  the  first  night ; 
and,  if  any  one  in  the  house  sleeps,  he  is  liable  to  encounter  the 
soul  in  dreams,  and  to  sicken  in  consequence.  In  other  islands, 
again,  the  soul  is  held  to  be  confused  and  stunned  immediately 
after  death,  like  a  man  who  has  fallen  from  a  tree ;  and  the 
kinsmen  watch  through  the  night,  until  it  may  be  supposed  to 
have  recovered  its  senses  (Riedel,  80,  267,  210). 

The  wakes  of  Europe  are  founded  upon  similar  beliefs  to 
these,  and  follow  much  the  same  course.  The  Wends  awaken 
every  one,  that  none  may  fall  into  the  sleep  of  death  (the  soul 
of  the  deceased  may  perhaps  entice  them  away,  as  among  the 
Dayaks  [Int.  Arch.  ii.  182]),  and  even  the  cattle  are  roused 
and  the  seed-corn  handled  (Tetzner,  376 ;  von  Schulenburg,  110). 
Among  the  Bulgarians  in  Hungary,  only  the  nearest  relations 
actually  watch  beside  the  dead.  They  relieve  the  tedium  by 
games,  among  others  divining  by  card-playing  whether  the  soul 
of  the  deceased  is  saved  (Globus,  xc.  140).  In  the  Landes  the 
neighbours  watch  the  body,  making  copious  libations  to  the 
memory  of  the  departed  (Cuzacq,  169).  Irish  wakes  have  long 
been  a  byword  of  extravagant  merry-making  and  debauchery  ; 
and  English  wakes  used  to  be  little,  if  any,  better  (cf.  Croker, 
Researches,  1824,  p.  170;  Aubrey,  Remaines,  Lond.  1881,  p. 
30).  It  would  seem  as  if  they  thought,  as  the  Gilyaks  do,  that 
silence  in  the  house  of  the  dead  is  sin.  For  that  reason,  among 
the  latter,  bo  long  as  the  corpse  remains  in  the  house,  custom 
requires  amusements,  laughing,  and  joking  to  be  kept  up(ARW 
viii.  [1905]  472). 

9.  Tabus  at  death. — The  horror  of  the  dead  has 
already  been  mentioned.  Everywhere,  contact 
with  a  corpse  entails  a  condition  for  the  adequate 
expression  of  which  we  must  have  recourse  to  the 
Polynesian  word  tapu,  or  the  Gr.  word  dvaBefxa.  In 
English  the  word  usually  employed  is  *  pollution ' 
or  *  defilement.'  Since,  however,  neither  of  these 
words,  nor  any  other  in  the  language,  conveys  the 
full  force  of  the  Polynesian  or  the  Greek,  we  have 
in  modern  times  been  fain  to  borrow  the  word  tapu 
or  tabu  from  the  former  tongue,  for  the  condition 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


419 


of  a  person  or  thing  set  apart  and  shunned  for  a 
religious  or  quasi-religious  reason,  including  not 
only  objects  to  which  we  should  attribute  sanctity 
and  invest  with  terror  on  that  account  (as  the  Ark 
among  the  ancient  Hebrews),  but  also  such  as  excite 
(at  least  in  our  minds)  horror,  disgust,  and  execra- 
tion. A  corpse  is  always  tabu.  And,  as  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  characteristics  of  tabu  is  its 
excessive  contagiousness,  the  greatest  care  is  needed 
in  approaching  or  dealing  with  a  corpse.  It  is  not 
quite  clear  whether  the  corpse  is  feared  in  and  for 
itself  as  a  dead  body,  or  as  the  vehicle  of  death,  or 
whether  it  is  feared  owing  to  its  connexion  with 
the  disembodied  spirit.  The  rule  observed  among 
widely  sundered  peoples,  that  every  one  who  kills 
another — even  a  warrior  who  has  slain  an  enemy  in 
battle — must  undergo  purification,  perhaps  points 
to  the  last  alternative.  In  any  case,  from  the 
contagious  nature  of  tabu,  the  prohibitions  conse- 
quent on  a  death  reach  far  beyond  the  persons 
who  have  been  compelled  to  perform  the  last  offices 
about  a  corpse.  They  extend  to  the  whole  house, 
the  whole  family,  the  whole  clan,  the  whole  village, 
nay,  to  the  very  fields,  and  even  sometimes  to  the 
heavens. 

An  unburied  body  fills  the  Yakuts  with  horror  and  fear.  All 
Nature,  indeed,  feels  uneasiness :  violent  winds  arise,  storms 
howl,  fires  break  out,  strange  noises,  mysterious  cries,  are 
heard ;  and,  if  it  be  a  shaman  who  is  dead,  these  manifesta- 
tions acquire  fabulous  proportions  (RHR  xlvi.  211).  The  result 
of  this  mysterious  sympathy  of  the  various  elements  is  that 
no  work  can  be  done  until  the  body  is  disposed  of.  Ail  labour 
in  the  entire  settlement  used  to  be  stopped  when  a  Koryak 
died,  until  his  cremation.  No  one  went  hunting  or  Bealing, 
nobody  went  to  fetch  wood,  and  the  women  did  no  sewing 
(Jesup  Exped.  vi.  104).  Among  the  Central  Eskimo,  singing 
and  dancing  are  forbidden  during  the  first  days  after  a  death. 
Moreover,  for  three  days  no  one  is  allowed  to  work  on  iron, 
wood,  bone,  stone,  ice,  snow,  leather,  to  empty  the  oil-drip- 
pings from  lamps,  or  to  clean  lamps ;  women  may  not  comb 
their  hair  or  wash  their  faces ;  and  all  sexual  intercourse  is 
forbidden.  It  is  believed  that  the  soul  stays  with  the  body  for 
three  days  after  death.  During  that  time  any  violation  of  the 
tabus  affects  it  so  much  with  pain  that  by  way  of  retaliation  it 
brings  heavy  snowfalls,  Bickness,  and  death  (Boas,  Eskimo  of 
Bajin  Land,  1901,  pp.  131, 144).  Among  the  Barea  and  Kunama 
of  Abyssinia  there  is  neither  ploughing,  nor  sowing,  nor  grind- 
ing until  the  corpse  is  buried  (Munzinger,  op.  cit.  528).  In  man}' 
of  the  Molucca  Islands  all  work  is  forbidden  in  a  village  while 
the  corpse  is  unburied  (Riedel,  168,  197,  223,  341,  414). 

At  Athens,  according  to  Cicero,  after  the  burial  the  grave  was 
sown  or  planted  as  a  kind  of  expiation,  that  the  fruits  might  be 
rendered  to  the  living.  The  statement  seems  to  imply  that  the 
earth  was  put  under  a  ban  or  tabu,  either  by  the  death  or  by  the 
burial  (see  the  passage  discussed  in  ARW  viii.  40 ;  Farnell,  Cults 
Gr.  States,  1896-1907,  iii.  23).  Among  the  Bambala,  a  Bantu 
people  of  the  Congo  basin,  the  inhabitants  of  a  village  where  a 
death  has  occurred  forsake  it  during  the  period  of  mourning, 
and  sleep  in  the  open  (JAI  xxxv.  417).  It  is  customary  on  the 
continent  of  Europe  to  put  up  on  the  house  a  cross  of  wood 
or  straw,  or  in  Holland  and  Flanders  to  pile  trusses  of  straw 
before  the  house  (Bull,  de  FL,  ii.  [1893-96]  346).  The  ancient 
Romans  hung  up  a  branch  of  cypress  or  pine.  This  practice 
is  probably  to  be  traced  to  an  intention  to  give  notice  of  the 
state  of  tabu.  The  hatchments  on  houses  in  Great  Britain  seem 
to  owe  their  existence  to  the  same  cause. 

The  prohibitions  are  naturally  emphasized  when  the  person 
dying  is  a  king  or  a  chief.  When  a  Kaffir  headman  or  man  of 
importance  dies,  all  the  people  of  the  kraal  shave  their  heads 
and  are  unclean.  They  may  not  drink  milk  or  transact  business 
with  other  kraals  until  the  witch-doctor  has  cleansed  them 
(Kidd,  Essential  Kafir,  1904,  pp.  247,  249  ;  Cape  Rep.  Nat.  Laws 
Com.,  App.  21).  Among  the  Nilotic  Kavirondo.  the  villagers  do 
not  cultivate  the  fields  for  three  days  after  the  death  of  any  one 
of  importance.  But,  if  it  is  a  chief  who  has  died,  no  one  culti- 
vates the  fields  for  ten  days  (Hobley,  op.  cit.  2S).  In  Tibet,  on 
the  demise  of  the  Dalai  or  the  Tashi  Lama,  the  work  in  all  the 
public  and  private  offices,  all  business  and  market  gatherings, 
are  suspended  for  seven  days.  For  thirty  days  women  are 
forbidden  to  put  on  their  jewellery,  and  neither  men  nor  women 
may  wear  new  apparel.  All  classes  refrain  from  amusements 
and  festivities,  and  from  going  into  groves  for  pleasure,  sports, 
or  love-making.  Rich  and  respectable  men,  when  their  parents 
die,  abstain  for  a  year  from  taking  part  in  marriage  cere- 
monies and  festivities,  and  undertake  no  journeys  to  a  distance 
(Chandra  Das,  Journey  to  Lhasa,  1902,  p.  256).  We  may  sus- 
pect our  own  analogous  customs  on  the  death  of  any  near 
relation,  or  important  person  in  the  neighbourhood  or  the 
State,  to  be  due  to  the  same  origin  as  those  on  the  death  of  a 
Kaffir  headman  or  the  Dalai  Lama.    See  also  §§  VI.  z  ;  XVII.  i. 

VII,  Disposal  of  the  corpse. — I.  Object  of  rites. 
— The  chief  objects  of  the  proper  disposal  of  the 


corpse  and  the  fulfilment  of  all  the  rites  and  cus- 
toms in  connexion  therewith  are  to  free  the  living 
from  the  defilement  of  death  and  to  give  rest  to 
the  deceased.  Until  they  are  all  ended,  the  soul 
is  not  finally  dismissed  to  its  place  in  the  other 
world,  it  is  not  united  to  the  company  of  the 
fathers,  it  is  not  elevated  to  its  due  position  in  the 
household  or  tribal  cult,  and  it  continues  to  haunt 
the  survivors  unpleasantly.  This  belief  is  little 
short  of  universal  in  the  lower  culture,  and  might 
be  illustrated  from  all  quarters  of  the  globe.  The 
significance  of  the  funeral  ceremonies  among  the 
ancient  Greeks  and  Egyptians  is  a  commonplace 
of  anthropology.  In  modern  Europe  the  prejudice 
in  favour  of  Christian  burial  in  consecrated  earth, 
with  the  full  rites  of  the  Church,  may  be  traced  to 
the  same  cause. 

2.  Denial  of  rites. — Yet  for  special  reasons  these 
rites  are  everywhere  denied  to  certain  classes  of 
the  dead. 

(a)  Babes  and  children  under  the  age  of  puberty, 
or  uninitiated  in  the  tribal  rites. — 

In  India,  where  the  practice  of  burning  the  dead  is  prevalent, 
children  are  generally  buried.  In  some  cases  at  least,  and 
possibly  in  all,  this  is  done  with  a  view  to  securing  their  re- 
birth, for  the  common  practice  is  to  bury  in  or  quite  close  to 
the  house,  often  under  the  threshold.  Similar  practices  for  the 
same  reason  prevail  among  many  other  peoples  of  the  Old  and 
New  Worlds  (Hartland,  Prim.  Pat.,  1909-10,  i.  227).  Funeral 
honours  are  denied  by  the  Thd  of  Tongking  to  children  under 
eighteen  years  of  age  and  unmarried  women.  They  are  simply 
put  into  the  bier  and  taken  by  the  priest  alone  to  the  grave 
(Lunet,  op.  cit.  163).  Among  the  Negroes  of  West  Africa  and 
some  of  the  Bantu  and  Nilotic  peoples,  where  burial  is  the 
ordinary  practice,  rites  are  denied  to  children,  who  are,  indeed, 
often  thrown  out  into  the  bush  :  the  Wadjagga  bury  them  in 
the  ditch  that  serves  as  the  village  latrine,  subsequently  digging 
up  their  bones  and  throwing  them  away  (Leonard,  Lower  Niger, 
1906,  p.  168 ;  Globus,  Ixxii.  [1897]  43,  Ixxxix.  [1906]  109  ;  Cun- 
ningham, Uganda,  1905,  p.  344).  In  civilized  Kurope  unbap- 
tized  children  are  commonly  buried  without  rites. 

(6)  Slaves  and  common  people. — 

Among  the  Haida  in  Masset,  slaves  are  thrown  into  the  sea 
(Jesup  hzped.  v.  [1905-9]  54).  In  Oregon  they  were  thrown  out 
into  the  woods  or  left  wherever  convenient  (Mem.  Am.  Anthr. 
Assoc,  i.  [1906]  170).  Very  widely  in  Africa  ordinary  and 
especially  poor  persons  and  slaves  are  simply  flung  out  and 
left  to  the  wild  beasts.  Common  people  in  the  Marshall  Islands 
used  to  be  sewed  into  a  mat  and  put  into  the  sea  (Steinmetz, 
op.  cit.  43S).  The  Ahts  of  Vancouver  Island  wrap  old  women 
and  men  and  boys  of  no  rank  in  the  tribe  in  old  blankets  and 
leave  them  on  the  ground  (Sproat,  Scenes  and  Studies  of 
Savage  Life,  London,  1868,  p.  259).  A  worthless  fellow  is 
buried  without  rites  in  the  New  Hebrides  (Rep.  Austr.  Assoc. 
iv.  [1892]  730).  The  Wadjagga  throw  childless  men  and  women 
into  the  forest  (Globus,  Ixxxix.  200). 

The  foregoing  classes  are  probably  regarded  as 
impotent  for  good  or  ill  after  death,  just  as  they 
have  been  during  life,  and  therefore  needing  no 
consideration.  In  other  cases,  however,  this  reason 
will  not  apply. 

(c)  Those  who  die  a  *bad  death.' — The  manner 
of  death  frequently  determines  the  death  rites  to 
be  performed,  because  it  determines  the  fate  of 
the  deceased  in  the  other  world.  The  list  of 
deaths  regarded  as  '  bad '  is  not  identical  all  over 
the  world,  but  a  wholesome  horror  of  suicide 
generally  prevails.  Christian  Europe  agrees  with 
pagan  Africa  in  performing  only  maimed  rites,  or 
denying  them  altogether,  in  the  case  of  such  as 
have  taken  their  own  life. 

Suicides  are  held  by  the  Ewhe  of  Togoland  to  have  been 
driven  mad,  either  by  rage  or  ill-treatment,  or  by  Borne  angry 
ghost,  malignant  spirit,  or  god.  A  suicide  defiles  the  land  and 
hinders  the  due  rainfall.  The  relatives  of  the  deceased  must 
therefore  be  fined.  A  stake  is  driven  through  the  body,  which 
is  dragged  into  the  bush  and  there  huddled  into  a  hastily  exca- 
vated hole.  The  subsequent  solemnities  are  few  and  meagre. 
No  drum  is  heard,  no  dances  are  executed,  no  fire  is  lighted  in 
the  street,  no  sacrifice  is  slain  for  him.  A  few  bananas  and 
pig-nuts  and  a  little  maize  are  laid  beside  the  grave,  two  guns  are 
fired,  and  the  obsequies  are  over  (Spieth,  op.  cit.  276,  274).  The 
Choctaws  of  North  America  dispose  of  their  dead  on  scaffolds, 
and  afterwards  collect  the  bones  with  great  ceremony.  But 
they  bury  at  once  without  the  usual  obsequies  any  one  who 
commits  suicide  (1  RBEW  168). 

Death  by  lightning   is   also  widely  attributed   to 

the  direct  action  of  a  god. 


420 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


Anions  the  Bechuana,  if  a  thunderbolt  kills  a  man,  no  one 
complains,  none  weeps ;  all  unite  in  saying  that  the  Lord  has 
done  right.  They  suppose  the  victim  to  have  been  guilty  of 
some  crime,  probably  stealing,  for  which  the  judgment  of 
Heaven  has  fallen  on  him.  The  beliefs  of  their  neighbours,  the 
Basuto,  Zulus,  and  Baronga,  are  similar  (Arbousset,  Explora- 
tory Tour,  Cape  Town,  1846,  p.  226  ;  Casalis,  Basutos,  Lond. 
1861,  p.  242;  Callaway,  Rel.  Syst.,  Lond.  1870,  pp.  60,  118; 
Junod,  Les  Ba-ronga,  Neuchatel,  1898,  p.  422.  As  to  the 
meaning  of  '  Lord '  and  '  Heaven,'  see  art.  Bantu,  vol.  ii. 
p.  364). 

Divine  anger  may  be  manifested,  indeed,  in  any 
accidental  death  :  the  attack  by  a  wild  beast,  the 
bite  of  a  snake,  drowning,  a  fall  from  a  tree. 

The  Dayaks  of  South-East  Borneo  do  not  bury  such  as  die 
by  accident ;  they  are  carried  into  the  forest  and  laid  on  the 
ground  {Int.  Arch.  ii.  181).  The  Malays  of  the  Patani  States 
inter  in  a  waste  place  or  cast  out  to  the  dogs  and  vultures 
'those  who  die  of  being  killed,'  as  they  phrase  it — that  is  to 
say,  in  any  violent,  sudden,  or  unusual  way  (Fasc.  Mai.  ii. 
[1904]  77). 

Death  by  drowning  is  often  regarded  as  the 
seizure  by  the  water-spirit  of  a  victim  ;  hence  no 
effort  is  made  to  save  him. 

Persons  drowned,  or  shot,  killed  by  wild  beasts  or  by  falling 
from  a  tree,  are  held  in  the  Babar  Archipelago  to  be  slain  by 
the  messengers  of  Rarawoliai,  the  war-spirit,  in  order  that  he 
may  feed  on  their  souls.  Their  bodies  may  not  be  laid  out  in 
the  house  or  seen  by  children  ;  they  are  left  naked.  They  are 
put  on  scaffolds,  with  merely  a  piece  of  red  linen  thrown  over 
them.  Sacrifices  of  pigs  are  offered  to  Upulero,  who  is  invoked 
on  behalf  of  their  souls.  The  pigs  are  not  as  a  rule  eaten,  for 
fear  of  misfortune.  Ultimately  the  body  is  laid  on  the  ground 
in  a  spot  set  apart  for  such  as  have  been  slain  by  Rarawoliai 
(Riedel,  361).  In  the  northern  peninsula  of  Halmahera  no 
funeral  feast  is  solemnized  for  those  who  are  unlucky  enough 
to  die  away  from  the  kampong,  nor  are  their  souls  wor- 
shipped, unless  they  fall  in  battle  (Int.  Arch.  ii.  209). 
Everywhere  those  who  die  from  the  effects  of  the 
poison-ordeal,  so  commonly  administered  in  Africa 
to  discover  a  witch,  are  held  to  be  slain  by  the 
'  fetish.'  The  body  is  usually  denied  sepulture, 
and  is  thrown  into  the  bush.  To  die  of  certain 
diseases  is  to  be  struck  by  a  god,  or  at  all  events 
tabued.  Such  diseases  are  cholera  and  smallpox 
commonly  in  India,  smallpox  or  leprosy  in  the 
island  of  Nossi-Be  near  Madagascar  (Steinmetz, 
378),  consumption  in  Cochin  -  China  ( Aymonier, 
Excursions  et  Reconnaissances,  xvi.  [1883]  171). 
Among  the  Agni  of  the  Ivory  Coast,  when  by 
means  of  divination  (§111.  3)  the  corpse  obstinately 
refuses  to  disclose  whose  witchcraft  has  caused 
the  death,  it  is  concluded  that  the  deceased  has 
offended  some  spirit,  and  he  is  denied  burial  as 
a  punishment  for  the  offence  (Clozel  and  Villa- 
mur,  op.  cit.  p.  120),  or  perhaps,  we  may  con- 
jecture, for  fear  of  the  enraged  spirit.  In  ancient 
Greece  executed  criminals,  though  buried,  were 
denied  the  customary  rites  ;  traitors  and  those 
guilty  of  sacrilege  were  refused  burial  at  home 
(Roh'de,  Psyche2,  Freib.  1898,  i.  217).  On  Nossi-Be 
executed  criminals  and  outcasts  from  the  family 
are  not  buried  in  the  family  grave  ;  wherefore  in 
the  other  world  they  are  condemned  to  find  no 
rest  (Steinmetz,  loc.  cit.)  ;  and  the  Ewhe  bury 
them  without  rites  {Globus,  lxxii.  42).  Down  to 
quite  modern  times,  in  Europe  it  used  to  be  the 
fate  of  certain  classes  of  executed  criminals  to 
have  their  remains  exposed  on  gateways  and  other 
places  of  public  resort,  until  they  rotted  away. 
Repulsion,  horror,  dread,  whether  caused  by  the 
infringement  of  some  tabu  or  by  the  anathema  of 
supernatural  beings,  are  doubtless  the  cause  in  all 
these  cases  of  exceptional  treatment  and  denial  of 
the  customary  rites. 

(d)  Persons  held  in  reverence  are  also  under 
anathema  or  tabu._  Their  sacred  qualities  set 
them  apart  from  mankind. 

The  JIasai,  whose  reason  for  not  burying  ordinary  persons  is 
said  to  be  that  the  bodies  would  poison  the  soil,  bury  their 
medicine-men  and  rich  men  (Hollis,  305).  The  inhabitants  of 
Corisco  Island,  off  the  West  Coast  of  Africa,  lay  their  great  men 
and  twins  (see  art.  Twixs)  under  a  sacred  tree  (Nassau,  41). 
The  Sea  Dayaks  expose  their  priests  on  a  raised  platform — a 
privilege,  however,  which  others  may  share,  if  they  desire. 
The  rest  are  buried,  except  such  as  die  in  battle,  who  are  left 
where  they  fall,  surrounded  with  a  paling  to  keep  away  the  wild 


hogs  (TES,  new  ser.,  ii.  [1S63]  236).  By  way  of  special  honour, 
the  Paharias  of  the  Santal  Parganas  do  not  bury  their  priests, 
but  lay  them  under  the  shade  of  a  banyan  (Bradley-Birt, 
Indian  Upland,  1905,  p.  SOS).  The  Caddoes  of  North  America 
leave  unburied  the  warrior  slain  in  battle  (1  RBEW  103).  Some 
African  tribes,  as  the  Latuka  and  the  Wadjagga,  also  leave  the 
slain  warrior  unburied.  But  among  the  Wadjagga  the  reason 
is  said  to  be  that  to  bury  him  would  draw  a  similar  fate  on 
others  (Frobenius,  451  ;  Cunningham,  370  ;  Globus,  lxxxix.  199). 

(e)  Women  dying  in  childbed  are  buried  in 
Africa,  both  East  and  West,  apart,  and  deprived 
of  ordinary  rites.  The  belief  that  a  woman  thus 
dying  is  under  a  curse,  and  becomes  a  malignant 
ghost  or  vampire,  is  widely  distributed.  Special 
precautions  are,  therefore,  taken  against  her  de- 
predations. A  special  rite  in  the  shape  of  a  sacri- 
fice is  sometimes  performed  to  keep  ner  quiet,  aa 
in  Yunnan  (Anderson,  Report  on  Exped.  to  W. 
Yunan,  Calcutta,  1871,  p.  131).  A  different 
expedient  is  mentioned  below  (§  XI.  2). 

(/)  Lastly,  in  the  progress  of  civilization  it  has 
been  held  that  burial  cannot  be  accorded  to  the 
corpse  of  a  man  who  has  died  in  debt,  until  his 
creditors  have  been  satisfied.  This  barbarous  de- 
nial of  rites  necessary  to  future  happiness  seems  to 
have  been  the  law  in  mediaeval  Europe.  A  corpse 
was  arrested  for  debt  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Shoreditch  as  lately  as  1811 ;  and,  though  damages 
were  recovered  against  the  creditors  by  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  deceased,  the  fact  witnesses  to 
the  late  survival  in  England  of  the  belief  that  the 
corpse  of  a  debtor  could  legally  he  deprived  of 
rites  (NQ,  8th  ser.  ix.  [1896]  241  ;  cf.  ib.  356  and 
x.  63).  Even  yet  in  many  places — the  island  of 
Celebes  and  West  Africa,  for  example  (L'Anthro- 
pologie,  iv.  [1893]  626  ;  Globus,  lxxii.  42  ;  Dennett, 
Black  Man's  Mind,  1906,  p.  46) — the  dead  cannot 
be  buried  until  his  debts  are  paid  ;  and  among 
the  Fantis,  at  all  events,  he  who  has  the  temerity 
to  bury  a  man  becomes  liable  for  his  debts  (Cruick- 
shank,  Eighteen  Years  on  the  Gold  Coast,  Lond. 
1853,  ii.  221).  The  incident  is  the  foundation  of 
a  number  of  folk-tales,  from  India  to  Ireland,  and 
has  repeatedly  formed  part  of  a  literary  plot. 

3.  Mode  of  disposal. — The  modes  of  disposing  of 
the  corpse  may  be  enumerated  as  (a)  cannibalism, 
(b)  sub-aerial  deposit,  (c)  cave  deposit,  (d)  water 
burial,  (e)  earth  burial,  (/)  preservation  in  hut, 
(17)  cremation. 

(a)  Cannibalism. — See  art.  CANNIBALISM,  vol. 
iii.  p.  194,  and  below,  §  XV. 

(6)  Sub-aerial  deposit. — To  leave  the  body  on  the 
ground  was  probably  the  earliest,  as  it  is  the 
simplest  and  most  savage,  form  of  disposal  of  the 
dead.  Ordinary  people  are  still  by  many  tribes, 
as  we  have  seen,  simply  flung  aside.  Among  the 
Masai,  burial  is  a  special  honour  conferred  only  on 
a  man  of  wealth  or  a  medicine-man.  All  medicine- 
men are  descendants  of  one  family  of  supernatural 
origin.  We  may  conjecture  that  the  meaning  of 
the  tradition  of  supernatural  origin  is  that  their 
ancestor  was  a  stranger  belonging  to  a  tribe  on  a 
somewhat  higher  level  of  civilization,  where  burial 
was  customary  (Hollis,  305,  325).  Burial  is,  how- 
ever, not  necessarily  a  mark  of  advancing  civiliza- 
tion. The  Seri  of  the  Californian  Gulf,  who  are 
among  the  lowest  of  known  savages,  bury  their  dead 
{17  RBEW  288  *).  On  the  other  hand,  the  religion 
of  Zoroaster  seems  to  have  imposed  the  rite  of 
exposure  of  the  corpse,  to  be  devoured  by  dogs 
and  vultures,  in  comparatively  civilized  times  on 
a  reluctant  people,  who  were  previously  in  the 
habit  of  burying  their  dead.  It  appears,  in  contrast 
with  the  rite  of  the  Masai  medicine-men,  to  have 
been  at  first  only  the  practice  of  the  sacred  caste, 
and  to  have  been  enforced  by  them  on  all  believers 
under  the  most  awful  sanctions,  both  temporal  and 
spiritual.  A  thousand  stripes  are  denounced  in 
the  Zend-Avesta  on  him  who  shall  bury  in  the  earth 
the  corpse  of  a  dog  or  of  a  man,  and  not  disinter 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


421 


it  before  the  end  of  the  second  year  ;  but,  if  he 
delay  beyond  that  time,  there  is  no  atonement  for 
ever  and  ever.  Death  and  damnation  are  his  fate. 
Indeed,  merely  to  omit  the  exposure  of  the  corpse 
within  a  year,  though  other  parts  of  the  ritual  may 
have  been  complied  with,  is  to  be  liable  to  the  same 
penalty  as  the  murder  of  one  of  the  faithful  (SBE 
IV.  xlv.  8,  31,  52).  We  may  perhaps  measure  the 
difficulty  of  securing  uniformity  by  the  violence 
of  the  language  and  the  terror  of  the  threatened 
penalties.  It  must  have  been  almost  as  uncom- 
fortable to  be  a  heretic  in  Persia  as  in  mediaeval 
and  post-mediceval  Europe.  Nor  have  the  Parsis 
of  India,  in  spite  of  their  high  civilization,  aban- 
doned this  distinguishing  characteristic  of  their 
faith.    See  '  Parsi '  art.  on  present  subject  (p.  502) 

The  Veddas  of  Ceylon,  like  the  ancient  Chinese, 
simply  lay  the  corpse  in  the  jungle,  covered  with 
leaves  and  brushwood  (Tennent,  Ceylon,  Lond. 
1859,  ii.  442 ;  Davy,  An  Account  of  the  Interior 
of  Ceylon,  Lond.  1821,  p.  117;  de  Groot,  Eel. 
Syst.  China,  Leyden,  1892 ff.,  ii.  368). 

Among  the  Australian  tribes  and  those  of  Tas- 
mania the  most  varied  methods  of  disposal  are 
found — exposure,  cannibalism,  burial,  cremation. 

Where  exposure  was  practised,  it  was  usually  on  a  rude 
platform  of  boughs,  or  in  the  branches  of  a  tree.  The  latter  is 
regarded  by  the  Unmatjera  as  an  honour  denied  to  the  very 
old  and  infirm,  and  to  such  as  have  violated  tribal  customs 
(Brough  Smyth,  i.  108-121  ;  Howitt,  456-474 ;  Spencer-Gilleni>, 
606-545  ;  Int.  Arch.  xvi.  [1904]  8 ;  Roth,  Abor.  of  Tasmania, 
Lond.  1890,  pp.  128-134).  The  same  honour  is  also  paid  by 
the  Andamanese  to  those  esteemed  worthy  (Ind.  Cens.  Rep., 
1901,  iii.  65).  In  fact  the  exposure  of  the  dead  on  stages,  or 
by  suspension  from  the  branches  of  a  tree,  or  from  cross-bars 
supported  on  poles,  is  very  widely  spread  in  the  Eastern 
Archipelago,  and  is  practised  by  some  of  the  tribes  of  Assam. 

On  the  American  continent,  deposit  on  scaffolds, 
or  in  the  houghs  of  trees,  was  extensively  prac- 
tised. In  the  interior  of  North  America  it  was 
the  common  mode  of  disposal,  the  object  being 
to  keep  the  body  out  of  the  way  of  carnivorous 
beasts  and  to  facilitate  desiccation. 

The  Hurons  and  some  other  tribes  put  the  corpse  into  a  coffin 
or  box  of  bark  or  wood  (often  a  hollowed  log) — a  custom  also 
followed  in  British  Columbia,  where  the  '  grave-box '  was  fre- 
quently deposited  on  the  ground  and  covered  with  leaves 
(1  RBEW  158-164,  166,  168,  169,;  5  RBEW  [1887]  111.  The 
various  Reports  on  the  N.-W.  Tribes  in  the  Brit.  Assoc.  Re- 
ports describe  the  customs  of  the  Indians  of  Brit.  Columbia. 
See  also  Jesup  Exped.  v.  54,  x.  [1908]  142).  Ruder  than  these 
was  the  custom  of  the  Blackfeet.  *  They  think  it  a  horrible 
practice  to  expose  the  body  to  the  worms  and  vermin  that 
live  in  the  ground.'  So  they  leave  it  for  the  wild  beasts 
and  birds,  above  ground,  on  a  hill-top  or  in  a  tree  (B.A.  Rep., 
1887,  p.  192 ;  Petitot,  Trad.  Ind.  du  Canada  Nord-ouest, 
Paris,  1886,  p.  492).  The  Eskimo  often  leave  the  dead  on  the 
ground,  though  some  of  them  have  learnt  to  use  '  grave-boxes  ' 
(It  RBEW,  175,  193;  IS  RBEW[\WZ]  312).  The  Kamtchadals 
used  to  throw  away  their  dead  to  be  devoured  by  dogs.  The 
Chukchi,  Gilyaks,  and  other  Siberian  tribes  followed  the  same 
practice,  or  else  disposed  of  the  corpse  by  cremation ;  the  Yakuts, 
however,  used  to  put  them  in  boxes  and  suspend  them  from 
the  trees  or  put  them  on  rough  scaffolds  in  the  forest  (Jesup 
Exped.  vi.  104  ;  RHR  xlvi.  211 ;  Amer.  Anthr.  viii.  [1906]  289). 
In  New  Caledonia  the  dead  are  placed  on  the  summit  of  a  cliff, 
on  a  bed  of  leaves  or  dried  grass  (L'  Anthrop.  xiii.  [1902]  547). 

The  necessity  of  sub-aerial  deposit  either  on  the 
ground  or  on  scaffolds  or  in  the  branches  of  trees  has 
been,  in  some  at  least  of  these  cases,  forced  upon 
the  survivors  by  the  condition  of  the  soil.  In  the 
higher  latitudes  of  the  Northern  Hemisphere  the 
ground  is  often  frozen  for  months,  and  it  is  im- 
possible during  that  period  (especially  with  the 
rude  tools  available)  to  dig.  Even  with  the  ap- 
pliances of  an  advanced  civilization  this  is  found 
impracticable  in  Canada.  Canadian  settlers  often 
have  to  content  themselves  during  the  winter  with 
placing  their  dead  above  ground  in  a  mortuary, 
and  leaving  them  there  until  the  spring.  They 
only  follow  the  example  of  some  of  their  aboriginal 
predecessors  and  neighbours. 

The  Naskopies  still  *  suspend  their  dead  from  the  branches  of 
trees,  if  the  ground  be  frozen  too  hard  to  excavate,  and  en- 
deavour to  return  in  the  following  summer  and  inter  the  body* 
111  KBBIF2721. 


(c)  Cave  burial. — An  archaic  and  widely  distri- 
buted mode  of  burial  is  in  caves. 

Human  bones,  remains  of  sepulture  of  the  Neolithic  people 
formerly  inhabiting  Liguria,  have  been  found  in  caves  at  vari- 
ous points  along  the  Riviera,  notably  under  stalagmitic  floors 
in  the  Bas-Moulins  cave  at  Monaco  (V Anthrop.  xii.  [1901]  7). 
Among  examples  of  a  much  more  recent  date,  but  still  very 
ancient,  is  that  of  the  Hebrews  (e.g.  the  cave  of  Machpelah, 
Gn  23'9  269  3627ff-  6013),  and  the  custom  is  not  yet  wholly  extinct 
in  Palestine.  In  the  Moluccas,  the  Philippines,  the  Sandwich 
Islands,  as  well  as  in  the  coral  islands  of  the  South  Seas  (both 
Melanesian  and  Polynesian),  where  caves  abound,  the  practice 
prevailed  of  depositing  the  bodies,  or,  after  desiccation,  the 
bones,  in  caves  and  clefts  of  the  rock  often  all  hut  inacces- 
sible. In  some  of  the  islands  the  custom  is  now  restricted  to 
the  remains  of  chiefs,  and  the  motive  is  said  to  be  to  pre- 
vent desecration  by  enemies,  though  probably  it  was  at  one 
time  more  general  (Ellis,  Polyn.  Res.  i.  405;  J  A I  x.  141). 
Similarly,  among  the  Betsileo  of  Madagascar  the  chiefs  are 
deposited  in  caverns  (Mad.  au  xxe  siecle,  290,  291).  In  Africa 
it  is  found  sporadically  from  north  to  south ;  it  was  the 
common  practice  of  the  Hottentots  and  the  special  privilege 
of  the  kings  of  Quissanga  and  Quiteve  (Kolben,  313  ;  Rec.  S.E. 
Africa,  vii.  [1901]  378,  382).  On  the  western  side  of  the  North 
American  continent  it  has  been  recorded  of  many  tribes  from 
Alaska  to  Mexico,  as  well  as  in  the  Aleutian  and  West  Indian 
islands.  Among  some  of  the  Pueblo  peoples  of  Arizona  and 
New  Mexico  the  practice  seems  a  relic  of  the  former  habitation 
of  the  caves.  When  they  were  occupied  as  dwellings,  the  dead 
were  frequently  buried  in  the  furthest  recesses ;  and  the  same 
caverns  or  other  clefts  and  shelters  of  the  rocks  have  been 
retained  by  a  verv  natural  conservatism  as  the  appropriate 
dwelling-places  of 'the  dead  (IS  RBEW  348,  355;  Am.  Anthr. 
vi.,  new  ser.,  656). 

This  method  of  disposing  of  the  corpse,  rude  as 
it  seems,  has  been  capable,  as  in  ancient  Egypt, 
of  developing  grandiose  sepulchres,  by  artificial 
excavation  and  the  provision  of  pompous  door- 
ways, and  thus  of  influencing  the  development  of  a 
national  architecture.  Even  where,  as  in  Sicily, 
such  a  result  was  not  attained,  artificial  excava- 
tion was  frequently  practised.  Enormous  num- 
bers of  such  tombs,  attributed  to  the  Sieuli,  have 
been  explored  in  the  mountain  of  Pantalica  near 
Syracuse  (L' Anthrop.  xii.  190).  It  is  obvious  that 
cave  burial,  whether  in  natural  or  in  artificial 
hollows,  can  be  adopted  only  in  rocky  or  moun- 
tainous regions,  and  then  only  where  the  geolo- 
gical formation  is  suitable.  A  mode  of  burial 
widely  extended  in  Africa  and  found  in  other 
parts  of  the  globe  is  that  of  sinking  a  perpen- 
dicular shaft  in  the  soil  and  excavating,  at  or  near 
the  bottom,  a  side-vault  in  which  the  body  is 
placed.  These  graves  have  lent  themselves  to  the 
suggestion  that  their  form  is  derived  from  a  pre- 
vious practice  of  cave  burial.  They  are  actually 
found  in  some  of  the  Fiji  Islands  concurrently 
with  burial  in  caves  (JAI  x.  144).  Ordinary 
chamber-tombs  excavated  in  the  rock  are  found 
in  Crete,  as  on  the  mainland  of  Greece.  Side 
by  side  with  them  at  Knossos  and  belonging  to 
the  same  period,  classed  by  Evans  as  the  Third 
Late-Minoan  Period,  have  been  found  also  exca- 
vated in  the  soft  rotten  limestone  both  simple 
pit-graves  and  graves  consisting  of  a  shaft  and 
side-vault ;  as  though  all  three  types  of  grave 
had  diverged  from  one  common  original,  and  that 
original  a  natural  cave.  The  conclusion,  so  far 
as  regards  the  last-named  type,  is  perhaps  ren- 
dered all  the  more  probable  by  its  recurrence  else- 
where around  the  Mediterranean,  where  burial  in 
natural  or  artificial  caves  was  practised  (Archceo- 
logia,  lix.  [1905]  391  ff.). 

(d)  Water  burial. — To  fling  a  body  into  the  sea 
or  a  river  is  one  of  the  easiest  ways  of  getting  rid 
of  it.  That  doubtless  is  the  reason  for  thus  dis- 
posing of  the  corpses  of  slaves  or  common  people 
(see  above,  VII.  2  (b)),  in  various  places.  But 
it  does  not  account  for  every  case  of  water 
burial.  Where  the  object  is  not  merely  to  get 
rid  of  the  body,  but  to  prevent  the  deceased 
from  returning  to  plague  survivors,  probably  few 
more  effectual  means  are  known  to  peoples  in 
the  lower  culture  than  to  throw  the  corpse  into 
the  water  ;  for  water  is  usually  esteemed  a  barrier 


422 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


to    maleficent    spirits,    and    particularly    to    the 
dead. 

The  corpses  of  pregnant  and  barren  women  (who  are  natur- 
ally evil-disposed),  and  o!  lepers,  are  regarded  in  Tibet  as 
specially  tabu.  They  are,  accordingly,  either  thrown  beyond 
nine  hills  and  dales,  or  packed  in  horse-  or  ox-skins  and  thrown 
into  the  waters  of  the  great  Tsang-po  Eiver  (Chandra  Das, 
op.  tit.  265).  The  Guayakis  of  Paraguay  and  the  Cherokees 
commit  their  dead  to  the  waters  of  the  nearest  river  ;  the  Gosh- 
Ute  of  Utah  sink  them  in  springs,  possibly  for  fear  of  the 
departed  spirit  (L'Anthrop.  xiii.  658  ;  1  RBEW  180). 

This  may  have  been  one  of  the  reasons  for  the 
occasional  practice  of  water  burial  found  in  various 
parts  of  the  world,  as  among  the  sect  of  Bhagar 
Pan  this  in  the  Panjab  (Rep.  Cens.  Ind.,  1901,  xvii. 
168),  or  some  of  the  West  African  tribes  (Nassau, 
233).  On  the  other  hand,  water  burial  is  sometimes 
regarded  as  an  honour. 

One  who  is  specially  beloved  or  beautiful  is,  in  the  Bismarck 
Archipelago,  not  buried  but  laid  in  a  boat  pulled  far  out  to 
sea,  and  there  the  boat  and  its  contents  are  sunk  (Thilenius, 
Ethnog.  Ergeb.  aus  Melanesien,  ii.  [1903]  230).  To  fling  the 
dead  into  the  sea  was  quite  common  in  Polynesia.  The 
OhibchaB  of  New  Granada  were  reported  by  Oviedo  to  lay  their 
chiefs  in  golden  coffins  and  sink  them  in  the  water  (Int.  Arch. 
xiii.,  Suppl.  56).  The  corpse  of  the  slain  Baldur,  with  his  wife 
and  steed,  and  the  gift  of  Odin's  ring  Draupnir,  was  laid  in 
his  ship  upon  a  funeral  pyre  and  launched  forth  blazing  on 
the  sea.  Myth  as  it  is,  this  tradition  doubtless  records  the 
striking  spectacle  of  many  a  Viking's  funeral. 

In  various  parts  of  the  world  earth  burial  or  sub- 
aerial  deposit  in  canoes  is  found — a  relic  perhaps 
of  earlier  exposure  to  the  waves.  Thus  it  was  not 
infrequent  for  a  Viking  to  be  laid  in  his  ship  and 
the  howe  heaped  over  it. 

(e)  Inhumation. — The  position  of  the  grave  is 
determined  by  various  considerations.  Among 
some  peoples  there  is  no  fixed  rule ;  and  it  seems 
that  the  dead  may  be  buried  anywhere,  according  to 
convenience  or  the  caprice  of  the  survivors.  This 
is  said  to  be  the  case  with  some  of  the  Bantu 
tribes,  as  the  Matabele  and  the  Barotse.  The 
latter,  however,  bury  in  secret,  from  which  we  may 
probably  infer  that  the  object  is  to  leave  no  clue 
to  the  burial-place  lest  it  be  violated  by  wizards 
(JAI  xxiii.  84;  Beguin,  Ma-Rotsi,  1903,  p.  115). 
In  some  of  the  Moluccas,  graves  are  scattered 
everywhere  outside  the  villages  (Riedel,  81,  225). 
The  Chilcotin  are  said  to  bury  wherever  the  death 
occurs  (Jesup  Exped.  ii.  [1900-8]  788).  Among  the 
Chinese  and  other  nations  in  the  Extreme  East  the 
situation  of  the  grave  is  determined  by  diviners, 
whose  art  is  called  in  Chinese  fung-shui,  defined 
by  de  Groot  (iii.  935)  as  '  a  quasi-scientific  system, 
supposed  to  teach  men  where  and  how  to  build 

f raves,  temples,  and  dwellings,  in  order  that  the 
ead,  the  gods,  and  the  living  may  be  located 
therein  exclusively,  or  as  far  as  possible,  under 
the  auspicious  influences  of  Nature.'  The  practice 
is,  therefore,  founded  on  the  conviction  that  the 
dead  dwell  in  the  grave  exactly  as  the  living 
dwell  in  a  house.  This  conviction  is  by  no 
means  confined  to  China  and  the  surrounding 
countries ;  it  is  explicit  or  implicit  everywhere  in 
the  lower  culture.  The  imagination  clings  to  it ; 
and  mankind  has  found  it  extremely  difficult  to 
get  rid  of  the  notion,  though  it  has  continually 
come  into  collision  with  the  teachings  of  the  higher 
philosophies  and  religions.  Accordingly,  the  dying 
man's  own  wishes  are  often  consulted  as  to  the 
place  of  his  burial,  or  it  is  determined  after  his 
death,  as  in  the  Babar  Archipelago  (Riedel,  359), 
by  supposed  movements  of  the  coffin  in  answer  to 
questions  put  to  the  corpse.  This  is,  of  course,  a 
species  of  divination.  •  It  is  more  commonly  decided 
by  the  manner  in  which  the  dead  are  regarded, 
that  is  to  say,  whether  fear,  on  the  one  hand,  or 
affection  and  hope  for  future  benefits,  on  the  other 
hand,  predominate  in  the  minds  of  the  survivors. 
But  see  §  XIX. 

(i.)  Children. — As  an  illustration  of  the  latter 
motive  may  be  taken  the  wide-spread  custom  of 


burying  children  in,  or  at  the  door  of,  their 
mother  s  hut.  A  comparison  of  the  reasons  alleged 
for  so  doing,  and  of  other  practices  and  beliefs,  leads 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  object  is  to  obtain  a  re- 
birth of  the  child. 

The  custom  is  found  in  Africa  East  and  West,  in  the  Panjab, 
and  among  some  of  the  Naga  tribes  of  Assam,  in  Java,  in  the 
Andaman  Islands,  among  the  Karo-bataks,  the  Creeks,  the 
Seminoles,  the  Chols  of  Southern  Mexico,  and  in  several  of  the 
Molucca  Islands.  On  the  island  of  Keisar  it  is  suggestive  that 
children  are  buried  under  their  parents'  sleeping-places,  while 
in  the  Aaru  Archipelago  they  are  not  buried,  but  hung  up  in  the 
house  above  their  parents'  beds.  In  Tibet  a  new-born  child 
who  dies  is  kept  in  the  house  or  on  the  roof.  The  ancient 
Italians  buried  their  dead  children  under  the  eaves  of  the 
house  ;  and  to  this  day  the  Russian  peasant  buries  a  still-born 
child  under  the  floor  (Hartland,  Prim.  Paternity,  i.  227  ;  JAI 
xxvi.  [1897]  200 ;  1  RBEW  116  ;  Starr,  Notes  Ethnog.  S.  Mexico, 
ii.  [1902]  74  ;  Riedel,  421,  267  ;  Chandra  Das,  220). 

(ii.)  Others  than  young  children. — Burial  or  sub- 
aeriai  deposit  at  a  distance  prevails  among  the 
Australian  tribes  and  among  the  Negroes  and 
Bantu. 

It  is,  however,  far  from  being  the  universal  practice  among 
either  the  Negroes  or  the  Bantu.  Among  both  these  races  the 
head  of  the  household  is  frequently  buried  within  his  own  settle- 
ment or  compound,  or,  as  among  the  Kaffirs  of  South  Africa,  in 
the  cattle  kraal.  Various  tribes  of  Negroes  bury  in  or  near  the 
village.  On  the  Ivory  Coast  several  bury  under  the  hut 
(Clozel  and  Villamur,  118,  157,  321,  336,  410,  467).  With  some 
of  these,  as  well  as  the  West  African  Bantu,  burial  under  the 
floor  of  the  house,  or  in  the  kitchen-garden  adjoining,  is  a  dis- 
tinction reserved  for  a  chief,  or  a  specially  beloved  relative. 
In  others  the  custom  seems  more  general,  and  the  head  of  the 
household  at  least  is  usually  buried  in  his  own  bouse  (Nassau, 
61 ;  Leonard,  169 ;  Spieth,  256,  634,  702,  762  ;  J  A  FL  ix.  17). 
The  same  rule  applies  to  the  Nilotic  and  Bantu  tribes  on  the 
other  side  of  the  continent  (Johnston,  654,  632,  693,  715,  748, 
779,  793,  880 ;  Casati,  Ten  Years  in  Equatoria,  Lond.  and  N.Y., 
1891,  i.  303 ;  Gessi,  Seven  Years  in  the  Soudan,  Lond.  1892, 
p.  32;  JAI  xxxii.  265;  van  der  Burgt,  op.  cit.,  art.  'Enterre- 
ment' ;  Werner,  167, 163,  165). 

In  Madagascar  the  practice  differs  with  the 
tribe.  The  Betsimisaraka,  Sakalava,  and  other 
tribes  bury  at  a  distance  in  solitary  places,  and 
their  graves  are  greatly  feared,  while  the  Betsileo 
and  Hovas  bury  on  the  roadside  and  even  between 
the  dwellings  (Mad.  au  xx*  siicle,  278). 

A  similar  diversity  is  found  among  the  forest  and  pampas 
tribes  of  South  America,  some  of  which  bury  under  the  hut. 
The  Uananas  bury  on  small  islands  in  the  river  (water  is 
notoriously  difficult  for  the  dead  to  cross)  or  else  in  the  hut 
occupied  by  the  deceased.  But  in  the  latter  case  the  hut  is 
deserted  (Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  86).  The  motive  in  both 
is  obviously  fear.  In  North  America,  tribes  like  the  Hupa, 
Wichita,  Nez  Perces,  Shuswap  and  Thompson  Indians,  to 
mention  no  more,  laid  their  dead  near  the  village  or  encamp- 
ment. Some,  like  the  Creeks  and  Seminoles,  buried  them  under 
the  house.  Others,  such  as  the  Nomlaki  of  California,  buried 
them  at  a  distance.  The  Zuhis,  who,  like  other  Pueblo  tribes, 
probably  in  former  times  buried  their  dead  in  their  cave- 
dwellings,  still  pursue  the  practice  in  their  modern  houses  on 
the  mesas  (IS  RBEW  336,  345,  346,  365).  Many  of  the  islanders 
of  the  Eastern  Archipelago  and  the  Pacific  Ocean  bury  in  the 
dwelling  of  the  deceased ;  but  there  is  no  uniform  practice. 
In  the  interior  of  Viti  Levu  (Fiji),  for  instance,  in  the  pro- 
vince of  Ra,  many  persons  were  buried  before  the  threshold 
of  the  house,  or  in  case  of  men  under  the  clan  dormitory ; 
elsewhere  the  dead  are  buried  at  a  distance  because  they  are 
feared  (Anthropos,  iv.  [1909]  88,  96).  In  Assam  the  grave  is 
dug  in  front  of  the  house  (JAI  xxxvi.  [1906]  96).  In  ancient 
Assyria  and  Babylonia  the  ordinary  dead  were  buried  under 
the  floor  of  the  house  (ARW  x.  105).  What  looks  like  a  relic 
of  the  same  custom  is  found  among  the  Lolos  of  Western  China : 
the  day  after  the  funeral  a  hole  is  dug  in  the  death-chamber, 
and  a  formal  prayer  offered  that  the  star  of  the  deceased  will 
descend  and  be  buried  in  that  hole.  It  is  believed  that  if  this 
were  not  done  the  star  would  fall  and  possibly  hurt  some  one 
(JAI  xxxiii.  103). 

The  burial-place  is  frequently  in  a  grove  or 
thicket,  afterwards  shunned  as  sacred.  Chiefs  or 
medicine-men,  like  Bantu  monarchs  and  Buriat 
shamans,  are,  in  particular,  recipients  of  this 
honour.  Chiefs  and  priests  on  the  island  of 
Rotuma  are  buried  on  the  hill-tops  (JAI  xxvii. 
[1898]  431,  432).  On  a  hill  or  a  headland  a  noble 
Norseman  loved  to  have  his  howe  or  barrow.  The 
Arapahos,  the  Wichita,  and  other  North  American 
tribes  lay  their  dead  commonly  on  hills  or  bluffs. 

Among  many  peoples  each  family  or  each  clan 
has  its  own  place  of  burial,  whether  the  mode 
of  disposal  of  the   dead   be  by  cave   burial,   in 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


423 


humation,  sub-aerial  deposit,  or  cremation.  This 
was  the  custom  of  the  ancient  Greeks  (Rohde,  i. 
229)  as  well  as  of  the  ancient  Hebrews ;  and  it  is 
continued  to  this  day  in  the  Holy  Land  (Wilson, 
Peasant  Life,  158).  Nor  is  it  confined  to  a  com- 
paratively high  stage  of  civilization.  It  is  a  natural 
and  by  no  means  uncommon  outgrowth  of  the 
feeling  of  kinship  ;  and,  where  ancestor-worship 
exists  in  a  developed  form,  it  adds  strength  to  it 
by  concentrating  the  cult  about  one  spot. 

The  Chinese  custom  dates  from  barbarism  ;  and  the  practice 
of  fung-shui  has  never  necessitated  its  abandonment  (de  Groot, 
iii.  829).  Every  clan  of  the  Baganda,  and  even  of  the  Muham- 
madanized  Swahili,  has  its  burial-place  (JAI  xxxii.  61  ;  Velten, 
Sitten  und  Gebrauche,  1903,  p.  259).  Every  family  of  the 
Chechens  in  the  Caucasus  and  of  the  Barea  and  Kunama  in 
Abyssinia  has  its  vault  (Anthropos,  iii.  [1908]  734 ;  Munzinger, 
62S).  On  the  Gold  Coast,  among  the  Tanala  of  Madagascar, 
the  Nicobarese,  and  some  of  the  British  Columbian  tribes  the 
families  have  common  burial  grounds  (JAI  xxxvi.  183  ;  Globus, 
lxxxix.  361 ;  Int.  Arch.  vi.  24 ;  Jesup  Exped.  i.  336,  v.  64). 
The  Uralis  of  Southern  India  have  a  common  burial-ground 
at  Nirgundi,  in  which  all  are  finally  laid  to  rest;  but  each 
sept  has  its  own  burial-ground  close  to  its  village,  where  the 
preliminary  obsequies  are  celebrated  (Thurston,  Castes  and 
Tribes,  vii.  266).  The  Chams  of  Further  India  and  the  Khasis 
of  Assam  practise  cremation ;  their  ashes  are  deposited  in  the 
family  sepulchre  (Cabaton,  Chains,  48;  Gurdon,  Khasis,  1907, 
pp.  132,  140).  As  society  becomes  more  highly  organized,  the 
custom  contributes  materially  to  the  family  pride,  and  it  be- 
comes emphasized  by  kings  and  nobles.  The  kings  of  ancient 
Scythians  and  modern  Kaffirs,  Tongan  chiefs  and  English  peers, 
agree  in  displaying  the  same  vanity. 

Where,  strictly  speaking,  there  is  no  family 
sepulchre,  sometimes,  at  least,  the  body  is  buried 
upon  the  property  of  the  deceased  or  his  family. 

The  ancient  Norseman's  howe  was  upon  bis  own  land.  The 
Quiche  of  Central  America  buried  in  their  maize  fields  {Int. 
Arch.  i.  11889],  Suppl.  71).  The  Buquidnones  of  the  Philip- 
pines and  the  Mossi  of  West  Africa  are  laid  in  their  own  culti- 
vated fields  (Sawyer,  347 ;  L'Anthrop.  xv.  [1904]  687) ;  and  the 
Chams  have  their  family  cemetery  close  to  their  richest  corn- 
field (Cabaton,  I.e.).  In  these  cases  probably  the  deceased  ie 
thought  to  guard  the  fields  and  enhance  their  fertility.  Among 
the  Igorots,  however,  where  the  dead  man  is  buried  in  his  own 
cleared  land,  unless  he  has  selected  some  other  spot,  the  place 
is  abandoned  (Sawyer,  313).  The  modern  Corsicans  lay  their 
dead  in  the  earth  or  in  a  little  building  called  a  chapel  on  their 
own  property  (RTP  xii.  [1897]  623). 

Other  distinctions,  as  has  already  been  noted, 
are  often  made  between  the  dead.  On  the  island 
of  ICeisar,  one  of  the  Moluccas,  a  great  nunu-tree 
stands  in  an  open  square  in  the  centre  of  every 
village.  Beneath  that  tree  the  forefathers  sleep, 
and  the  dead  of  rank  are  still  buried  around  them. 
It  is  thus  a  sacred  place,  and  feasts  are  held  there 
(Riedel,  422).  The  same  character  attaches  to  the 
Men's  House,  or  Bachelors'  House,  necessary  to  a 
village  in  other  islands  of  the  East  Indies  ;  and 
often  there,  if  not  every  man,  at  least  every  im- 
portant man,  is  buried,  and  his  bones  are  pre- 
served after  the  final  rites  (cf.  Globus,  xciv.  [1908] 
166,  168). 

(/)  Preservation  in  house. — Many  peoples  pre- 
serve the  body  above  ground  in  the  house,  either 
with  or  without  previous  desiccation  or  mummifica- 
tion. This  practice  originates  in  a  rude  and  archaic 
condition  of  society,  and  is  frequently  abandoned, 
as  civilization  progresses,  in  favour  of  temporary  or 
permanent  burial. 

Thus  in  Tahiti,  a  native  tradition,  which  doubtless  represents 
something  like  the  real  sequence  of  custom,  speaks  of  a  period 
when  the  dead  were  allowed  to  remain  on  a  kind  of  stage  in  the 
house  in  which  they  had  lived,  and  which  continued  to  be 
occupied  by  the  survivors.  But  by  and  by  separate  houses 
were  built  for  the  dead — small  temporary  buildings,  where  they 
were  laid,  and  whence  they  were  drawn  out  to  be  exposed  to  the 
rays  of  the  sun.  The  corpse  was  visited  from  time  to  time  by 
the  relatives,  and  was  rubbed  every  day  with  aromatic  oils. 
The  bones  were  ultimately  deposited  in  the  family  marce,  or 
temple,  or  else  buried,  except  the  skull,  which  was  wrapped 
in  native  cloth  and  preserved,  often  suspended  from  the  roof 
of  the  dwelling-house  (Ellis,  op.  cit.  i.  404). 
Notwithstanding  all  reverence  for  the  dead,  and  all 
precautions  in  the  shape  of  desiccation  and  per- 
fumes, the  custom  of  keeping  the  body  in  the 
dwelling  during  the  process  of  decay  must  have 
been  found  intolerable.  Tribes  to  which  immediate 
burial  was  repugnant  therefore  usualiy  adopted  one 


of  two  courses  :  they  abandoned  the  hut  to  the 
corpse,  or  they  removed  the  corpse  until  dissolution 
had  been  carried  far  enough  to  render  it  no  longer 
offensive. 

So  the  Wagogo  of  East  Africa  keep  the  corpse  of  a  man  of  rank 
in  the  hut  until  it  putrefies,  while  they  mourn  and  drink  pombe. 
It  is  then  placed  on  a  scaffold  in  the  open  air  until  only  the  bones 
are  left,  when  they  at  last  are  buried  (Steinmetz,  211).  The  Atti- 
wandaronks,  or  Neutrals,  of  North  America  kept  the  body  in  the 
house  '  until  the  stench  became  intolerable.'  It  was  then  placed 
on  a  scaffold  in  the  open  air,  that  the  work  of  decay  might  be 
there  completed.  The  remaining  flesh  being  scraped  from  the 
bones,  the  latter  were  afterwards  arranged  on  the  sides  of  the 
cabins  in  full  view  of  the  inmates  until  the  Feast  of  the  Dead, 
the  great  day  of  general  interment  periodically  held  (Hale,  Book 
of  Mites,  1883,  p.  72).  The  Muong  or  Mon  of  Tongking  kept  the 
corpse  in  a  coffin  for  three  years  in  the  house,  before  the  altar 
of  ancestors ;  but  they  palliated  the  results  of  dissolution  to 
some  extent  by  fixing  a  bamboo  tube  in  the  lid  of  the  coffin 
and  carrying  it  up  through  the  roof  to  permit  the  foul  gases  to 
escape  (Lunet,  352).  In  West  Africa  the  Baoule  embalm  and 
preserve  the  corpse  in  the  hut  for  months  or  years.  In  spite  of 
embalmment,  the  odour  for  three  weeks  is  horrible.  It  then 
gradually  diminishes,  and  by  the  end  of  two  months  the  corpse 
presents  the  appearance  of  an  Egyptian  mummy.  In  this  state 
]t  is  kept  until  the  convenient  time  for  the  final  rites,  with  which 
it  is  laid  in  a  grave  under  the  hut  (Clozel  and  Villamur,  115, 
118).  The  Yumbos  of  South  America  also  mummify  their  dead, 
and  hang  them  up  in  the  house  under  the  thatch  (Int.  Arch. 
xiii.,  Suppl.  79).  In  the  Gilbert  Islands  the  body  of  a  king  or 
warrior  is  often  wrapt  in  mats  and  preserved  on  one  of  the  cross- 
beams of  the  hut  (ib.  ii.  43).  On  the  other  hand,  the  Saccha  of 
South  America  lay  out  their  dead  in  the  house,  pull  down  the 
house  over  him,  and  abandon  it  to  him  (Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl. 
85).  The  practice  of  abandoning  the  hut  to  the  dead  is  fol- 
lowed in  many  other  places.  Its  motive  is  fear — whether  of  the 
death-pollution  or  of  the  ghost  is  probably  no  more  than  a 
question  of  terminology.    See  §§  IV.  3,  VI.  9,  XVIII.,  XIX. 

(g)  Cremation  is  a  mode  of  disposal  of  the  dead 
that  has  been  adopted  from  time  to  time  by  nations 
widely  scattered  over  the  earth.  It  is  the  ordinary 
mode  in  India  among  the  aboriginal  peoples,  as  well 
as  among  the  Hindus  ;  it  extends  through  Further 
India  to  Tongking,  and  has  obtained  a  footing  by 
Hindu  influence  on  some  of  the  East  Indian  islands. 
It  is  practised  by  many  tribes  of  Siberia  and  of  the 
Pacific  slope  of  North  America.  In  ancient  times 
it  was  also  practised  widely  (though  perhaps  not 
exclusively)  by  the  tribes  of  the  North  American 
plains  and  of  the  Mississippi  basin  and  Atlantic 
shores.  It  is  customary  among  some  of  the 
northern  tribes  of  South  America,  and  among 
the  Melanesians  of  North  New  Mecklenburg  and 
New  Hanover,  two  of  the  islands  of  the  Bismarck 
Archipelago.  The  funeral  mounds  of  Europe  wit- 
ness to  its  use  in  pre-historic  times,  from  the  south 
of  Russia  to  the  British  Isles.  The  practice  seems 
to  have  begun  on  the  Continent  in  the  Neolithic 
age.  It  became  general  during  the  Age  of  Bronze, 
and  was  continued  right  down  to  the  Christian 
era,  and  among  many  tribes  probably  down  to  their 
conversion  to  Christianity.  To  the  northern  in- 
vaders who  founded  the  dynasties  and  the  polity 
predominant  during  the  Homeric  age  of  Greece  we 
may  with  some  confidence  attribute  the  introduc- 
tion into  the  Eastern  Mediterranean  of  cremation, 
foreign  as  it  was  to  the  usages  and  beliefs  of  the 
Mycenaean  age.  From  Greece,  or  directly  across 
the  Alps,  it  spread  to  Italy ;  and,  though  among 
the  Romans  it  never  succeeded  in  entirely  ousting 
the  prior  practice  of  inhumation,  it  became  through- 
out the  Roman  Empire  the  fashionable  mode  of 
disposing  of  the  dead  among  the  official  and 
wealthier  classes.  It  is  sporadic  or  occasional  in 
many  other  parts  of  the  world. 

More  than  one  reason  may  have  conduced  to  the 
practice  of  cremation  : 

(i. )  Tribes  without  a  settled  abode  may  have 
found  it  convenient,  if  they  desired  to  carry  about 
the  remains  of  their  dead,  or  to  remove  such  re- 
mains beyond  the  possibility  of  desecration  by 
their  enemies. 

Some  such  motives  perhaps  operated  in  the  case  of  the  Cocopa 
Indians,  who  occupy  the  lower  valley  of  the  Colorado  River. 
By  the  annua]  floods  of  Lhe  river  they  are  driven  from  the  bottom 
lands  to  the  higher  grounds.     '  The  annual  irrigations  are  of 


424 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


great  regularity,  and  have  affected  the  habits  of  the  tribes  in 
various  ways.'  On  the  death  of  an  adult,  his  effects  are  collected 
for  distribution  among  others  than  his  relatives.  The  body  is 
laid  on  a  pyre  beside  his  hut ;  and,  after  all  the  claimants  have 
been  satisfied,  the  corpse  and  the  rest  of  his  goods  are  burnt, 
together  with  the  hut  and  any  neighbouring  huts  belonging  to 
the  clan  that  may  happen  to  catch  fire.  The  survivors  then  aban- 
don the  site  (Amer.  Anthrop.  iv.,  new  ser.  [1902],  480).  The  Man 
C6c  are  an  immigrant  people  of  Northern  Tongking ;  and,  though 
they  have  been  settled  as  cultivators  of  the  soil  in  the  mountain- 
ous region  of  that  country  for  many  generations,  their  villages 
are  still  constantly  removed  from  place  to  place,  to  suit  their 
rudimentary  method  of  agriculture.  They  formerly  burnt  their 
dead,  and  carried  the  ashes  with  them  in  their  migrations.  But 
the  custom  has  been  generally  given  up,  because  the  accumu- 
lated ashes  of  generations  became  an  intolerable  burden.  It 
continues,  however,  in  the  west  of  the  Red  River  basin,  where 
the  bones,  after  incineration,  are  placed  in  earthen  jars  (Lunet, 
246).  The  Northern  Maidu  cremated  only  those  who  died  far 
from  home  ;  and  in  such  cases  the  ashes  were  taken  home  and 
there  buried  (Bull.  Am.  Mus.  Nat.  Hist.  xvii.  242).  A  similar 
practice  was  recorded  among  the  Algonquins  (Charlevoix,  vi. 
[1744]  109),  among  the  Haida  of  Masset  (Jesup  Exped.  v.  64),  and 
other  tribes. 

Many  peoples  hold  that  it  is  possible  to  work 
witchcraft  by  means  of  the  bodies  of  the  dead.  It 
is  probable  that  this  may  have  been  at  least  a 
contributory  cause,  inducing  migratory  tribes  to 
burn  their  corpses. 

(ii. )  Another  very  powerful  motive  for  cremation 
is  the  desire  to  be  quit  of  the  ghost.  Various 
means  are  adopted  for  this  purpose  (see  XL).  Cre- 
mation is  only  one  of  these,  but  it  is  not  the  least 
potent.  This  is  best  observed  where  cremation 
is  exceptional,  as  on  the  continent  of  Africa. 

Among  the  Yaos  and  Mang'anja  a  woman  who  was  accused 
of  witchcraft,  and  who  refused  the  poison-ordeal,  was  burnt 
(Macdonald,  Africana,  1882,  i.  104).  In  West  Africa  burning  is 
especially  the  mode  of  disposing  of  bodies  of  criminals,  by  which 
are  meant  persons  accused  of  witchcraft,  some  of  whom  are  also 
burnt  to  death  (Nassau,  234).  The  Wakulwe  and  other  tribes  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Lake  Tanganyika  believe  that  a  month  or 
two  after  death  the  process  of  decomposition  brings  back  the 
bones  to  life.  A  mysterious  being  called  Nkiua  animates  them  ; 
and  by  means  of  the  new  body  thus  formed  it  sets  about  tortur- 
ing, and  even  killing,  some  other  member  of  the  family  of  the 
deceased.  In  order  to  prevent  this,  the  corpse  is  dug  up  and 
burnt  to  ashes.  Not  a  bone  must  be  left,  for  even  the  smallest 
would  suffice  to  give  shelter  to  the  Nkiua.  A  witch-doctor,  or 
diviner,  presides  at  the  ceremony,  while  an  assistant  asperges 
the  body  with  a  sort  of  holy  water,  saying,  '  Sleep  in  peace,  sleep 
in  peace'  (V Anthropologic,  xvi.  [1905]  375).  The  Nkiua  thus 
roughly  corresponds  with  the  Vampire  of  Europe,  whose  misdeeds 
were  often  stopped  by  a  similar  process  of  burning.  But  there 
is  this  difference  that,  whereas  in  Europe  only  some  persons  were 
credited  with  becoming  vampires,  among  the  African  tribes  in 
question  all  corpses  are  exhumed  and  cremated. 

We  have  already  seen  that  persons  who  die  an  evil  death  are 
denied  the  ordinary  rites.  Among  such  persons  are  usually 
reckoned  those  who  die  of  smallpox,  in  childbed,  by  murder  or 
Buicide.  In  Siam  the  corpses  of  these  persons  are  treated  pre- 
cisely like  the  corpses  of  the  Wakulwe.  It  is  alleged  that  if  this 
were  not  done  the  spirits  of  the  departed  would  return  and  tor- 
ment their  friends  (Globus,  xiv.  [1868]  27).  The  Chingpaws  of 
Burma  bury;  but  burning  is  simulated  in  the  case  of  those 
who  die  of  smallpox  or  by  violent  deaths  (Anderson,  p.  131). 
Among  the  Kols  of  Chota  Nagpur,  where  cremation  is  the  ordi- 
nary mode  of  disposing  of  the  corpse,  the  body  is  burnt,  and  the 
remains  of  the  bones  are  picked  out  and  put  into  an  earthen  pot. 
This  is  carefully  closed,  taken  home,  and  hung  on  a  post  until  the 
final  ceremony,  which  does  not  take  place  until  the  hdrbdr  feast. 
We  are  expressly  told  that  in  this  way  the  deceased  is  prevented 
from  entering  his  former  dwelling  (Hahn,  Einfuhrung  in  das 
Gebiet  der  Eolsmission,  1907,  p.  83).  The  same  fear  of  the  ghost 
is  visible  in  the  ceremonies  at  the  cremation  of  the  former  kings 
of  Kandy.  Some  of  the  calcined  bones  were  collected  and  put 
into  an  earthenware  pot,  which  was  closed  and  sealed.  The  re- 
maining ashes  were  buried.  The  pot  was  placed  on  the  head  of 
a  man,  who  was  masked  and  covered  all  over  with  black,  and  was 
carried  by  him  to  the  mahawelle-ganga.  At  the  ferry  the  masked 
bearer  was  put  in  two  canoes  lashed  together  and  covered  with 
boughs  in  the  form  of  a  bower.  These  canoes  were  drawn  to 
mid-stream  by  two  men  swimming,  who  when  they  reached  that 
point  pushed  them  forward  and  hastily  swam  back.  The  masked 
man  then  took  a  sword  in  one  hand  and  the  urn  in  the  other,  cut 
the  urn  in  two,  and  at  the  same  moment  plunged  into  the 
stream.  Diving  under,  he.  came  up  as  far  down  stream  as  pos- 
sible, swam  to  the  opposite  side,  and  disappeared.  The  canoes 
were  allowed  to  float  away  (Davy,  162). 

It  has  already  been  mentioned  that  the  ancient 
Pueblo  tribes  of  the  south-west  of  the  United 
States  buried  their  dead  in  their  cave-dwellings. 
Concurrent  with  this  custom,  however,  there  was 
another,  by  which  the  dead  were  cremated.  The 
co-existence  of  these  two  customs  was   held  by 


Cushing,  one  of  the  most  careful  and  acute  of  ob- 
servers, to  be  due  to  the  coalescence  of  two  peoples 
— namely,  of  Yuman  and  Piman  tribes  of  the  lower 
Colorado  region — who  practised  cremation,  with 
the  true  Pueblo  tribes,  who  practised  cave  burial. 
The  Zuriis  have  now  abandoned  cremation,  if  they 
ever  practised  it.  'They  insist  that,  should  they 
incinerate  the  bodies,  there  would  be  no  rain,  foi 
their  dead  are  the  uwannami  (rain-makers).  In- 
cineration, they  believe,  would  annihilate  the 
being'  (13BBEWSG5;  22  BBEW  [1904]  175;  23 
RBEW  [1904]  305). 

(iii.)  Thus  cremation  is  an  effectual  protection  of 
the  survivors  against  haunting  and  injury  by  the 
dead.  Ifc  is  more  than  this  :  it  thoroughly  frees  the 
ghost  from  the  bonds  of  this  life,  and  fits  it  for 
union  with  the  society  of  the  departed  in  the  life 
beyond. 

The  Wayana  of  French  Guiana  burn  their  dead,  *  that  the  soul 
may  fly  up  to  heaven  on  the  smoke '  (Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  87). 
Among  the  Laotians  of  Further  India  the  higher  classes  are 
cremated  encased  in  a  puppet  representing  a  mythical  bird 
called  Hatsadiling.  It  is  said  that,  in  order  to  obtain  Nirvana, 
the  bird  must  be  killed.  Accordingly,  a  woman  ceremonially 
shoots  an  arrow  at  it ;  and  then  the  fire  is  lighted.  There  is,  of 
course,  a  mythological  tale  of  the  slaughter  of  the  bird  in  the 
first  instance  by  a  heroine  who  was  an  incarnation  of  a  goddess; 
and  the  woman  who  shoots  the  ceremonial  arrow  pretends  to  be 
a  descendant  of  the  goddess.  But  there  can  be  little  doubt  that 
Hubert's  conjecture  is  correct,  that  the  myth  is  of  secondary 
formation,  and  that  the  bamboo  bird  really  convoys  to  the  other 
world  the  soul  when  released,  together  with  it,  by  burning 
(L1 Annie  Soc.  ix.  [1906]  238).  In  this  case  the  shooting  would  be 
the  ritual  slaughter  of  the  bird,  in  order  to  put  it  into  the  same 
condition  as  the  deceased.  Among  the  Haida  of  Masset,  persons 
killed  in  battle  or  by  any  violent  means,  were  believed  to  go, 
after  death,  to  the  abode  of  a  supernatural  being  named  Taxet, 
which  was  suspended  in  the  air.  To  enable  them  to  do  this  their 
bodies  were  burnt :  otherwise  they  would  be  refused  admission. 
The  precaution,  however,  seems  to  have  been  neglected  with 
regard  to  friends  killed  in  war  at  a  distance  from  home — contrary 
to  their  practice  in  other  cases.  The  practical  difficulties  were 
probably  too  great,  and  the  custom  may  have  been  in  decay 
(Jesup  Exped.  v.  54).  The  king  of  the  Batutsi  in  East  Africa 
was  never  buried.  His  body  was  exposed  in  his  hut  until  putre- 
faction had  advanced  so  far  as  to  show  the  first  worm.  The 
hut  was  then  set  on  fire,  and  was  burnt  with  all  its  contents. 
When  the  conflagration  came  to  an  end  and  nothing  was  left,  it 
was  believed  that  the  king  had  returned  to  heaven,  whence, 
according  to  the  tribal  legends,  his  ancestors  had  been  exiled, 
and  whither  this  was  the  prescribed  method  of  returning  (An- 
thropos,  iii.  6). 

But  the  ghost  is  often  conceived  of  as  inhering  in  the  calcined 
bones,  and  not  completely  disposed  of  until  some  further  cere- 
mony has  been  performed.  The  rites  at  the  cremation  of  the 
king  of  Kandy  are  an  example  of  this.  Indeed,  it  is  common 
among  the  tribes  of  India  which  have  been  influenced  by  Brah- 
manism  to  throw  the  ashes  into  some  sacred  water,  as  a  means 
of  uniting  the  dead  with  the  fathers.  Elsewhere  they  are  put 
into  an  urn  or  other  receptacle,  and  buried,  or  kept  in  the  house. 
This  custom  is  familiar  to  us  among  the  classic  nations  of 
antiquity.  The  covers  of  the  urns  were  sometimes  removable, 
in  order  to  placate  the  spirit  of  the  dead  by  periodically  pouring 
libations  upon  his  ashes. 

VIII.  The  grave. — i.  Shape  of  the  grave. — On 
this  subject  something  has  been  said  above  in  deal- 
ing with  cave  burial.  The  grave  is  the  residence  of 
the  departed ;  and  efforts  are  not  wanting  in  various 
parts  of  the  world  to  render  it  as  comfortable  as 
circumstances  permit.  As  already  pointed  out, 
the  Chinese  practice  of  fung-shui  is  traceable  to 
this  motive.  It  is  possible  also  that  the  wide- 
spread practice  of  abandoning  the  hut  to  the  dead, 
whether  buried  beneath  it  or  exposed  above  ground, 
may  have  the  same  motive,  in  addition  to  that  of 
escaping  the  infection  of  death.  The  destruction 
of  the  hut  above  the  corpse,  which  frequently  takes 
place,  need  not  preclude  it,  since  it  is  a  common 
principle  that  things  intended  to  be  of  service  to 
the  dead  must  themselves  be  killed  by  breakage, 
or  even  burning.  Where  burial  does  not  take 
place  in  the  hut,  a  hut  or  shelter  is  often  erected 
over  the  grave. 

This  is  the  practice  in  lands  as  far  apart  as  South  America 
and  the  Philippines  or  New  Guinea  (Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  79  ; 
Sawyer,  203,  355;  Chalmers,  Pioneer  Life,  1895,  pp.  53,  110, 
210) ;  while,  among  the  Baganda  and.other  tribes  of  East  Central 
Africa,  kings  and  chiefs  at  least  are  thus  honoured  (J A I  xxxii. 
44,  92;  Cunningham,  31,  224;  van  der  Burgt,  art.  '  Enterre- 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


425 


menf):  and  this  hut,  as  the  abode  of  the  deceased,  becomes 
his  shrine  or  temple,  where  his  spirit  is  invoked.  In  this  district 
of  Africa  miniature  huts  or  shelters  over  the  graves  of  lesser 
persons  are  not  uncommon.  By  the  Lendu  the  miniature  hut 
18  erected  explicitly  as  a  shelter  for  the  spirit,  which  is  supposed 
to  remain  seated  on  the  grave  for  two  months  after  burial 
(Cunningham,  337).  Elsewhere,  as  in  New  Guinea,  the  shelter 
is  as  much  for  the  convenience  of  the  mourners,  who  go  thither 
to  weep,  as  of  the  departed  (Chalmers,  110). 

The  underground  resting-places  of  the  dead  are 
also  provided  with  regard  to  their  comfort,  often 
to  magni  licence. 

The  Ewhe  of  West  Africa  bury  beneath  their  huts.  Rich 
people  are  buried  deeper  than  poor,  and  the  cavity  prepared 
for  them  is  as  large  as  a  room  (Spieth,  634).  The  pre-historic 
graves  of  Crete,  circular  chambers  of  stones  covered  with 
mounds  or  domes,  are  modelled  on  the  hute  of  the  living  (ARW 
vii.  [1904]  265,  viii.  620).  The  same  intention  is  apparent  in 
Etruscan  tombs.  So  far,  indeed,  was  it  carried  that,  when 
cremation  was  adopted,  the  urns  in  which  the  ashes  were 
placed  were  miniature  huts.  But  the  most  striking  and 
splendid  examples  of  tombs  as  the  dwelling-places  of  the  dead 
are  found  among  the  ancient  Egyptians  (see  §  VII.  3  (c)). 

Externally  the  shape  of  the  grave  has  varied  as 
much  as  its  internal  arrangements.  In  Europe 
the  pre-historic  dead  of  rank  and  importance  were 
buried  beneath  round  or  elliptical  barrows,  fre- 
quently of  huge  dimensions — a  custom  found  in 
many  other  parts  of  the  world.  These  barrows 
are  raised  of  stones  or  earth,  and  enclose  cists  of 
large  slabs,  within  which  the  bodies  were  deposited. 
And  they  are  generally  surrounded  with  a  trench 
from  which  the  earth  for  the  barrow  has  been 
taken,  sometimes  also  with  circles  of  stones. 
Where  an  elaborate  structure  of  this  kind  is  not 
made,  it  is  quite  common  to  cover  the  grave  with 
a  heap  of  stones,  or  with  a  simple  mound  of  earth. 
Where,  as  among  many  tribes,  the  grave  is  shallow, 
the  stones,  or  often  (according  to  the  nature  of  the 
country)  a  pile  of  branches,  may  be  intended  chiefly 
to  defend  the  body  against  wild  earnivora.  Against 
human  beings  they  are  more  often  defended  by 
fences,  or  smoothed  and  levelled  down  so  as  to 
remove  the  traces  of  burial,  as  is  the  practice  of 
various  South  American  tribes  (Int.  Arch,  xiii., 
Suppl.  92,  97 ;  Globus,  xc.  305).  Where  mounds 
or  huts  are  erected  over  graves,  they  become,  with 
growing  civilization,  pyramids  of  wrought  stone 
and  mausolea. 

2.  Position  of  the  corpse. — It  is  a  very  general 
custom  in  the  lower  culture  to  bury  the  dead  in  a 
crouching  or  squatting  position.  This  is  the  natural 
position  of  rest  during  life  for  peoples  who  have 
not  the  civilized  appliances  of  chairs,  tables,  and 
bedsteads.  It  is  accentuated  in  the  case  of  the 
dead  by  binding  the  body,  sometimes  even  breaking 
the  bones  for  that  purpose.  The  body  thus 
prepared  is  usually  laid  on  one  side  in  the  grave, 
just  as  the  skeletons  in  Neolithic  and  later  graves 
in  this  country  are  found.  Sometimes,  however, 
it  is  placed  seated  or  lying  on  the  back. 

Examples  of  both  have  been  described  among  the  West 
Australian  natives  (Calvert,  41,  42).  Extended  burials  (lying  at 
full  length)  are  not  so  common.  At  Knossos,  bodies  have  been 
found  both  flexed  and  extended.  Extended  burials  were 
customary  among  the  pagan  Anglo-Saxons.  The  Wichita  of 
North  America  (Dorsey,  Wichita,  1904,  p.  13),  the  Brignans  of 
the  Ivory  Coast  (Clozel  and  Villamur,  467),  and  the  Yanadis  of 
Southern  India  bury  in  the  same  attitude,  but  the  last  with  the 
face  downwards  (Thurston,  vii.  426). 

The  direction  in  which  the  body  lies  in  the  grave 
differs  among  different  peoples,  and  even  among 
the  same  people.  In  the  pre-historic  graves  of  this 
country,  as  well  as  of  other  countries,  skeletons 
have  been  found  quite  differently  orientated,  though 
sometimes  in  the  same  barrow ;  and  the  explana- 
tion of  the  variations  is  still  to  seek.  The  Wotjo- 
baluk  of  what  is  now  the  Wimmera  district  of 
Victoria,  in  the  Commonwealth  of  Australia,  had 
an  elaborate  system  by  which  everything  in  the 
world  was  supposed  to  be  divided  among  the 
totem-clans.  Every  totem  had  its  own  point  of 
the  compass ;  and  a  man  was  buried  with  his  head 
towards  the  point  of  the  compass  appropriate  to 


his  totem  (Howitt,  453).  This  arrangement  is 
extremely  rare,  if  not  unique.  More  usually  the 
direction  is  determined  by  either  the  rising  or  the 
setting  sun. 

Thus  the  Ngeumba  of  New  South  Wales  bury  with  the  head 
towards  sunrise  (Mathews,  72)  ;  the  Awemba  of  Central  Africa 
{JA1  xxxvi.  157),  the  Maidu  of  California  {Bull.  Am.  Mas.  Nat. 
Hist.  xvii.  243),  and  the  Wichita  bury  with  the  head  turned 
to  the  east.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Lillooet  (Jesap  JSxped. 
ii.  269),  the  Mancagnes  of  Senegambia  (L' Anthrop.  xvL  63), 
and  the  Brignans  (Clozel  and  Villamur,  I.e.),  agree  with  the 
Christian  populations  of  Europe  in  burying  in  the  reverse 
direction.  The  Solomon  Islanders  bury  with  the  feet  turned 
inland  (Codrington,  Melanesians,  Oxford,  1891,  p.  254).  Tribes 
which  preserve  a  tradition  of  migration  to  their  present  habitat, 
frequently  bury  with  reference  to  the  direction  from  which 
they  believe  their  ancestors  to  have  come.  For  this  reason 
some  of  the  Bantu  tribes  of  South  Africa  bury  so  as  to  face  the 
North  (Dannert,  3  ;  Kidd,  24S).  This  practice  seems  to  be  con- 
nected with  a  belief  that  after  death  the  soul  journeys  back, 
as  among  the  Miao  of  the  Chinese  province  of  Kwei-chow 
(Anthropos,  iii.  409),  to  the  ancestral  seats  of  the  race.  Among 
the  Wanyamwezi  of  East  Africa  a  man  who  dies  in  a  strange 
place  is  buried  with  his  face  to  his  mother's  village  (Burton, 
Lake  Regions  of  C.  Afr.  Loud.  1860,  ii.  26).  Muhammadan 
peoples  bury  so  that  the  dead  may  face  Mecca. 

3.  Coffins. — The  corpse  is  further  defended 
against  external  influences  by  a  case  or  coffin.  In 
the  early  stages  of  culture  a  coffin  is  wanting; 
and,  if  it  is  deemed  desirable  to  protect  the  body 
from  the  earth,  this  is  done  by  means  of  the  niche 
or  recess  at  the  bottom  of  the  grave-shaft  so 
common  in  Africa,  or  a  covering  of  boughs  is  laid 
over  it  before  the  earth  is  thrown  in.  Even  yet 
some  peoples  in  a  comparatively  high  stage  of 
civilization  reject  a  coffin.  Wood  is  the  usual 
material  for  a  coffin.  Originally,  probably  a 
hollowed  tree-trunk,  as  still  among  the  Niamniam 
(Frobenius,  410),  it  has  evolved  into  elaborate 
forms,  painted,  as  among  the  Ibouzo  on  the  Niger 
(Anthropos,  ii.  [1907]  102),  or  carved,  as  among 
the  Eskimo  and  Indian  tribes  of  the  North-West 
of  America,  and  the  Dayaks  of  Borneo.  These 
carved  coffins  or  grave-boxes,  however,  are  not 
intended  to  be  put  under  ground.  In  this  con- 
nexion the  richly  carved  sarcophagi  of  late  Koman 
and  early  mediaeval  times  will  be  recalled. 

A  very  general  custom  prevails  in  South  America,  where  the 
art  of  pottery  is  developed,  of  putting  the  dead  into  large 
urns.  In  pre-historic  Crete  it  was  a  well-known  practice  to 
enclose  the  body  in  a  terra-cotta  chest  called  a  lamax  (Archceo- 
logia,  lix.  396-400).  In  Japan,  bodies  were  often  buried  in 
sarcophagi  of  wood,  stone,  or  terra-cotta  (Archceologia,  lv. 
[1S97]  474).  The  Chinese,  when,  as  often  happens,  especially 
among  the  rich,  the  dead  are  disinterred  to  be  buried  else- 
where in  accordance  with  the  demands  of  fung-shui,  place  the 
bones  in  large  earthen  jars  (de  Groot,  iii.  1058 ;  Lunet,  90). 
The  Tagbanuas  of  the  Philippines  bury  children  in  jars  (Sawyer, 
313).  Under  the  floors  of  pre-historic  temples  in  Palestine 
numerous  remains  of  new-born  children  have  been  found  buried 
in  jars  (Frazer,  Adonis'*,  1907,  p.  82).  The  Balearic  Islanders, 
according  to  Diodorus,  cut  up  the  corpse,  put  the  pieces  into  an 
urn,  and  erected  a  cairn  of  stones  over  it  (Diod.  Sic.  v.  18).  The 
bones,  after  being  denuded  of  their  flesh,  were  buried  in  urns 
by  many  of  the  tribes  inhabiting  what  is  now  the  United  States 
(Arner.  Anthr.  vi.,  new  ser.  [1904],  660).  A  similar  practice  is 
recorded  by  a  Chinese  traveller  in  Tibet  {Z  VR  W  xx.  [1907] 
115).  And  the  Kukis  of  Assam,  after  the  body  has  undergone 
preliminary  decomposition,  clean  and  preserve  the  bones  in 
a  vase,  '  which  they  open  on  all  important  occasions,  pre- 
tending that  in  thus  consulting  the  bones  they  are  following  the 
wishes  of  their  deceased  relative '  (AR  W  xii.  [1909]  448). 

The  burial  of  cremated  bones  in  urns  has  been 
common  wherever  cremation  was  practised  by 
peoples  acquainted  with  the  art  of  pottery.  Burial 
in  ships  or  boats  has  already  been  referred  to. 
Sometimes,  as  among  the  Siusi  of  north-western 
Brazil,  a  coffin  is  fashioned  out  of  the  canoe  of  the 
deceased  by  cutting  it  in  two  and  placing  the  body 
between  the  two  halves  (Globus,  xc.  327).  Lighter 
materials  are  often  employed  for  the  coffin.  On 
the  Gold  Coast  it  is  made  of  wicker-work,  reeds, 
or  bark  (Journ.  Afr.  Soc.  vii.  [1908]  202).  On  the 
other  hand,  more  than  one  coffin  is  sometimes 
employed  in  the  case  of  a  wealthy  or  important 
personage.  In  this  wasteful  practice  African 
barbarians  agree  with  the  cultured  peoples  of 
Europe. 


426 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


Nor  is  the  object  of  a  coffin  always,  or  entirely, 
to  protect  the  body.  Possibly  its  original  intention 
was  to  protect  the  living  from  the  visits  of  the 
dead. 

This  was  expressly  alleged  to  Nelson  by  one  of  the  western 
Eskimo  as  the  reason  for  the  grave-boxes  in  which  the  dead  are 
deposited  on  the  shores  of  Bering  Strait.  '  It  was  better,'  he 
said,  *  to  keep  the  dead  in  grave-boxes,  for  it  kept  their  shades 
from  wandering  about,  as  they  used  to  do ;  besides,  it  was  bad 
to  have  the  dogs  eat  the  bodies'  (18  RBEW  312).  The  latter 
thus  appears  a  mere  subsidiary  reason  or  after-thought. 

Although,  however,  we  may  suspect  the  desire 
of  imprisoning  the  deceased  to  have  been  a  primary 
motive  in  the  provision  of  a  coffin,  the  desire  to 
provide  for  his  comfort  in  the  grave  was  probably 
also — perhaps  equally — present.  That  the  intention 
of  a  coffin  is  not  always  to  bottle  up  the  soul  with 
the  body  is  clear  in  such  cases  as  that  of  the  Siusi 
just  referred  to,  where  a  hole  is  left  expressly  to 
enable  the  ghost  to  go  and  come,  and  thus  preserve 
its  temporary  connexion  with  the  bones  until  the 
time  for  final  severance  arrives. 

IX.  Funeral  ceremonies. — I.  Time  of  funeral. — 
The  length  of  time  required  to  elapse  between 
death  and  the  funeral  varies  from  a  few  hours  to 
many  months.  Sometimes,  as  in  the  west  of 
Africa  and  the  Solomon  Islands,  it  may  extend  for 
years,  while  the  preparations  for  duly  honouring 
the  deceased  slowly  proceed.  At  length,  however, 
the  time  comes  when  the  solemn  ceremony  which 
is  to  sever  the  dead  from  the  living  is  appointed  to 
take  place.  The  night  is  not  infrequently  reckoned 
the  appropriate  time. 

The  Hopi  of  North  America  conduct  their  funerals  at  night 
(Ztschr.  Ethn.  xxxvii.  [1905]  634),  the  Da3'aks  of  Sarawak  at  early 
dawn  (Anthropos,  i.  169).  The  Manansa  of  South  Africa  and 
the  Negroes  of  the  Lower  Niger  bury  in  the  evening  (Holub, 
Seven  Years  in  S.  Africa,  Lond.  1881,  ii.  240 ;  Leonard,  159) ; 
while  the  Basuto  dig  the  grave  after  dark,  but  defer  the  actual 
burial  until  just  before  dawn.  It  must  be  performed  before 
the  children  wake,  for  they  must  not  see  the  body  (Martin,  90 ; 
Journ.  Afr.  Soc.  v.  [1906]  357). 

The  reason  for  the  selection  of  the  darkness  as 
the  season  for  burial  seems  to  be  that  the  survivors 
then  cast  no  shadow,  which  is  often  confused  with 
the  soul,  and  hence  that  the  deceased,  or  any  evil- 
disposed  spirit,  would  have  more  difficulty  in 
capturing  and  retaining  souls.  The  souls  of 
children  are  particularly  liable  to  attack.  In 
the  Southern  Nieobar  Islands,  burial  takes  place  at 
sundown,  before  midnight  or  early  dawn,  expressly 
in  order  to  prevent  the  shadows — that  is,  the  souls 
— of  the  attendants  from  falling  into  the  grave 
and  being  buried  with  the  corpse  (Incl.  Cens.  1901, 
iii.  209). 

2.  Touching  the  dead. — Throughout  the  rites  and 
observances  attendant  on  death,  two  motives — two 
principles — are  found  struggling  for  the  mastery. 
On  the  one  hand,  there  is  the  fear  of  death  and  of 
the  dead,  which  produces  the  horror  of  the  corpse, 
the  fear  of  defilement,  and  the  overwhelming  desire 
to  ban  the  ghost.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  the 
affection,  real  or  simulated,  for  the  deceased, 
which  bewails  his  departure  and  is  unwilling  to  let 
him  go.  Thus,  though  the  touch  or  even  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  corpse  causes  defilement, 
there  are  not  wanting  peoples  with  whom  it  is  a 
ritual  necessity  for  mourners  to  touch  the  corpse. 

The  islanders  of  Mabuiag,  Torres  Straits,  and  the  Negroes  of 
Jamaica  agree  with  the  people  of  the  British  Isles  and  the 
neighbouring  Continent  in  this  requirement.  In  Europe  the 
reason  usually  alleged  is  that  it  prevents  being  haunted  by 
the  deceased.  The  German-speaking  population  of  Iglau  in  the 
hills  between  Bohemia  and  Moravia  kiss  the  foot  of  the  corpse 
that  they  may  not  be  afraid,  which  we  may  interpret  in  the 
same  sense  (XV  V  vi.  [1896]' 408);  while  in  Montenegro  every 
one  who  attends  a  funeral  must  kiss  the  corpse  (JAI  xxxix. 
94).  Among  the  Bulgarians  all  relatives  kiss  the  right  hand 
of  the  corpse,  saying,  'Forgive  me."  In  addition,  each  of 
them  who  was  born  in  the  same  month  bends  over  it  breast  to 
breast  and  touches  its  head  with  his  own  thrice  (Strausz,  Die 
Bulgaren,  Leipz.  1898,  p.  450). 

3.  Circumambulation.  —  Another  ceremony  is 
that  of  walking  round  the  corpse. 


When  the  Argonauts  in  the  poem  of  Apollonius  Rhodiua 
buried  their  dead  comrade  Mopsus,  they  marched  round  him 
thrice,  in  their  warrior-gear.  So  among  the  populations  of 
India  which  practise  cremation,  the  son  or  other  relative  who 
lights  the  pyre  first  walks  thrice  round  it.  The  custom  of 
walking  round  the  corpse,  or  the  grave  after  burial,  is  recorded 
of  peoples  as  far  apart  in  space  and  in  culture  as  the  Central 
Eskimo,  the  Russian  Lapps,  the  Burials,  the  Shans,  and  the 
Arawaksof  British  Guiana.  It  has  even  been  recorded  as  solemnly 
performed  around  the  coffin  of  a  clergyman's  wife  in  Oxford- 
shire no  longer  ago  than  1799  (NQ  xi.,  8th  ser.  [1897],  428).  At 
Beauquesne  in  the  Department  of  Somme  (France),  after  placing 
the  coffin  in  the  grave  the  mourners  go  thrice  round  the  grave 
backwards  (RTF  xv.  164). 

The  direction  of  the  procession  is  probably  sun- 
wise, though  it  is  rarely  recorded  ;  and.  it  is  usually 
performed  thrice.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that 
the  rite  is  magical,  intended  to  keep  the  dead  in 
the  grave  and  prevent  him  from  disturbing  the 
survivors.     Cf.  art.  ClRCUMAMBULATlON. 

4.  Carrying  out  the  corpse. — More  widely  spread 
still  is  the  custom  of  taking  the  corpse  out  of  the 
house  by  some  other  way  than  the  ordinary  door. 
Among  peoples  in  the  lower  culture,  from  South 
Africa  to  Greenland,  from  Alaska  to  the  farthest 
limits  of  Asia,  the  East  Indian  Archipelago  and 
the  isles  of  the  Southern  Ocean,  where  the  huts 
are  not  provided  with  windows  the  dead  are  taken 
out  by  the  smoke-hole,  or  a  hole  in  the  roof.or  side 
of  the  hut  specially  broken  for  the  purpose,  or,  as 
among  the  Koryaks,  by  raising  a  corner  of  the  tent. 
Where  a  window  exists  it  is  often  utilized  for  the 
purpose.  The  hole  is  closed  immediately  after  the 
passage  of  the  corpse,  the  object  being  to  prevent 
the  deceased  from  finding  his  way  back.  As  civil- 
ization progresses,  the  custom  is  gradually  con- 
fined to  the  corpses  of  those  that  have  died  evil 
deaths. 

A  Norseman  who,  by  his  character  or  the  circumstances  of 
his  death,  was  deemed,  like  Thorolf  in  the  Eyrbyggia  Saga, 
likely  to  give  trouble  after  death  was  carried  out  in  this 
fashion.  On  the  Continent  of  Europe  suicides  are  frequently 
thus  carried  out ;  and  it  would  seem  that  the  practice  is  not 
unknown  in  England  (NQ  iv.,  8th  ser.  [1893],  189).  Of  the 
earlier  and  more  general  custom  a  relic  has  lately  been  dis- 
covered by  H.  F.  Feilberg  in  Jutland,  in  a  bricked-up  door- 
way existing  in  some  farmhouses  and  called  the  '  corpse-door  ' 
(FL  xviii.  [1907]  364).  The  Matse  tribe  of  Ewhe  carry  out  the 
body  of  a  priest  through  a  hole  in  the  roof  (Spieth,  756).  The 
Wadjagga  remove  the  corpse  of  a  childless  woman  through  a 
hole  in  the  side  of  the  hut  opposite  to  the  door  (Globus,  lxxxix. 
200).  On  the  island  of  Nias  the  same  course  is  taken  with  a 
woman  dying  in  childbed ;  while  the  Toba-bataks  break  up  the 
floor  of  the  house  (the  houses  being  all  built  upon  piles)  and 
throw  down  the  corpse  of  such  a  woman,  with  imprecations,  to 
men  who  are  waiting  beneath  to  tie  it  up  fast.  On  the  other 
hand,  they  take  the  corpse  of  an  important  man  out  through 
the  wall  (Kruijt,  Animisme,  Hague,  1906,  pp.  264,  252).  All 
these  dead  are  formidable,  either  from  the  manner  of  death  or 
from  character  and  position. 

Among  the  Masurs  of  East  Prussia  and  in  Bul- 
garia, when  parents  lose  a  succession  of  children, 
the  last  to  die  is  taken  out  through  the  window 
(Toppen,  Abergl.  aus  Masuren2, 112  ;  ZVVxi.  268). 
Here,  perhaps,  the  successive  children  dying  are 
regarded  as  the  same  child  returned  and  re-born 
(Hartland,  Prim.  Pat.  i.  200).  In  that  case  the 
object  is  to  prevent  access  by  the  dead  infant  to 
its  mother,  that  she  may  not  bear  it  again. 

5.  Other  precautions  against  return. — To  prevent 
the  return  of  the  dead,  it  is  not  enough  to  take  out 
the  corpse  by  an  unusual  way.  The  dead  man 
must  be  prevented  from  seeing  the  way  back.  It 
is  for  this  reason  that  the  body  is  carried  out  feet 
foremost — a  practice  shared  by  the  civilized  nations 
of  Europe  with  the  savages  of  Mabuiag  in  Torres 
Straits  ( Torres  Str.  Exped.  v.  248).  Or  he  must  be 
confused  and  puzzled. 

The  Christian  Indians  of  Tumupasa  agree  with  the  Basuto  in 
changing  the  place  of  the  door  of  the  hut  (Int.  Arch,  xiii., 
Suppl.  92 ;  Martin,  91).  The  Atonga  swing  the  corpse  to  and 
fro  (Werner,  161).  The  Siamese  not  only  break  an  opening 
through  the  house-wall,  but  having  got  the  body  out  they 
hurry  it  at  full  speed  thrice  round  the  house  (Tylor,  Prim. 
Cult.  ii.  23).  The  Chams  turn  the  bier  about  from  time  to 
time,  and  by  marching  obliquely  they  cause  the  corpse  to  take 
the  most  diverse  positions,  in  order  to  bewilder  the  soul  and 
hinder   it   from    returning    home   (Cabaton.  47).      Analogous 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


427 


practices  are  found  in  Europe.  In  Leitrim  the  longest  possible 
road  is  taken  to  the  churchyard  (FL  vii.  [1896]  181) ;  and  it  is 
probably  for  the  same  reason  that  both  in  Ireland  and  in 
Germany  the  corpse  is  carried  thrice  round  the  church. 

In  various  places  in  Europe  a  number  of  pre- 
cautions are  observed.  The  chairs  or  benches  on 
which  the  coffin  has  rested  are  thrown  down  (East 
Prussia ;  Iglau).  The  coffin  is  lifted  thrice  over 
the  threshold  and  thrice  rested  upon  it— an  indi- 
cation to  the  deceased  that  this  is  a  solemn  and 
final  farewell  (Styria ;  Wends ;  Mordvins).  An 
axe  is  laid  on  the  threshold  or  hung  over  the  door 
as  soon  as  the  corpse  has  passed  (East  Prussia ; 
Sweden). 

Water  (in  some  places  the  water  used  in  washing 
the  corpse)  is  thrown  out,  with  or  without  the 
vessel  containing  it,  after  the  funeral  procession 
(East  Prussia;  Poland;  various  parts  of  Germany). 
In  Greece  not  only  is  water  thus  poured  out  and 
the  vessel  broken,  but  also  all  the  water  stored 
in  houses  along  the  route  is  thrown  out  after  the 
procession  has  passed  {JAI  xxiii.  35,  41 ;  Rodd, 
Gust.  Mod.  Greece,  Lond.  1892,  p.  124).  More  than 
one  motive  has  probably  gone  to  form  this  custom. 
Purification  may  be  intended  ;  but  the  object  also 
is  to  prevent  the  return  of  the  dead,  for  they, 
like  other  supernatural  beings,  have  a  difficulty 
in  crossing  water.  In  Greece,  indeed,  the  custom 
of  flinging  out  water  is  said  to  ease  the  burning 
pains  of  the  dead— a  later  and  probably  Christian 
interpretation. 

In  Brittany  the  dead  of  the  commune  of  Plouguiel  are  carried 
across  a  small  arm  of  the  sea  called  the  Passage  d'Enfer, 
instead  of  being  taken  by  land  (a  much  shorter  route)  to 
the  cemetery  (RTP  xv.  631).  In  the  same  way  the  Haida 
carry  a  shaman  to  his  burial  by  water,  even  though  the  burial- 
place  can  be  reached  more  easily  by  land.  It  is  said  that  they 
do  not  fear  a  dead  shaman  like  other  dead  people,  but  they 
want  '  to  handle  his  things,'  and  hence,  we  may  conjecture,  to 
pack  him  off  so  that  he  cannot  return  to  interfere  with  them 
(Jesup  Exped.  v.  63).  In  Sweden,  linseed  is  strewn  outside 
the  house  to  prevent  the  deceased  from  appearing  as  a  '  wan- 
dering spirit.'  It  is  a  common  belief  that  supernatural  beings 
must  in  such  a  case  count  the  seeds— a  task  that  will  occupy 
them  until  daj'light.  The  practice  of  strewing  seeds  is,  in 
lact,  another  attempt  to  puzzle  and  confuse  the  ghost.  So 
the  Swedes  also  strew  hay-seed  on  the  road  and  about  the 
grave,  believing  '  that  Satan  is  thereby  deprived  of  his  power 
over  the  deceased' — which  may  be  a  Christianized  form  of  the 
superstition  (Lloyd,  131,  134).  Among  the  Iban  of  Sarawak, 
ashes  are  strewn  over  the  footprints  of  the  bearers  to  prevent 
the  soul  of  the  dead  man  from  finding  its  way  back  to  the 
house  to  haunt  the  living  (Anthropos,  i.  169).  The  practice 
would  appear  to  be  not  unknown  in  some  parts  of  Europe.  A 
few  years  ago  at  Budapest  a  woman  who  was  supposed  to  have 
died  in  hospital  returned  home.  She  was  taken  for  a  ghost. 
The  doors  were  slammed  against  her,  ashes  were  strewn  on  the 
gTOund,  and  her  husband  refused  her  admittance  (Daily  Chron., 
30  Aug.  1904).  The  barefooted  dwellers  on  the  Congo  strew 
thorns  along  the  path  from  the  house  to  the  grave  (2  VV  xi.  266). 
In  the  Solomon  Islands  *  the  return  from  the  funeral  is  by 
another  road  than  that  along  which  the  corpse  was  carried,  lest 
the  ghost  should  follow '  (Codrington,  254)— a  practice  likewise 
followed  in  Corfu  (Rodd,  124).  Many  peoples  erect  barriers 
against  the  ghost  in  returning.  Thus  the  Koryaks  (who 
cremate  the  body)  strew  twigs  around  the  pyre,  representing  a 
dense  forest  which  is  supposed  to  surround  the  burning-place. 
An  attempt  is  made  to  obscure  the  tracks  of  the  officiant,  and  a 
line  is  drawn  across  the  road,  over  which  the  mourners  jump 
and  shake  themselves.  This  line  is  supposed  to  represent  a 
river.  The  Chukchi  customs  are  similar.  A  small  cup  and  the 
bunch  of  grass  used  in  washing  the  corpse  are  hidden  separately 
on  the  path :  the  one  will  transform  itself  into  a  sea  and  the 
other  into  a  dense  forest  (Jesup  Exped.  vi.  112,  vii.  [1904-9] 
528).  It  should  be  pointed  out  that  it  is  by  such  means  that 
the  hero  or  heroine  escapes  in  stories,  including  the  incident 
of  the  Magical  Flight  from  the  pursuit  of  the  Ogre,  and  that 
the  Chukchis  and  Koryaks  are  only  making  use  of  means  of 
defence  familiar  to  them  in  their  traditions. 

These  specimens  of  the  various  methods  of  pre- 
venting the  return  of  the  dead  will  suffice  for  the 
present.     Reference  will  be  made  to  others  below. 

6.  Reluctance  of  the  corpse. — The  dead  man  is 
often  supposed  to  be  reluctant  to  quit  his  home. 
Among  the  Nawar,  or  Eastern  Gypsies,  as  well  as 
among  other  Arab  tribes,  he  goes  the  length  of 
forcible  resistance,  compelling  the  bearers  even  to 
return  and  leave  him  for  two  or  tleree  days  un- 
buried — to  the  ^reat  detriment  of  tin  public  health 


(Jaussen,  Coutumcs  des  Arabes  au  pays  de  Moab, 
Paris,  1908,  pp.  100,  105).  The  Negroes  of  Jamaica 
aver  that,  when  a  dead  body  wishes  to  go  forward, 
it  is  easily  carried  ;  when  it  does  not  wish  to  go,  it 
gives  great  trouble  (FL  xv.  453). 

A  ceremony  is  performed  on  Car  Nicobar  which  is  perhaps 
a  dramatic  representation  of  the  unwillingness  of  the  dead  to 
be  buried.  The  funeral  procession  is  met  by  another  band  of 
men  who  drive  the  bearers  back  by  force,  struggling  over  the 
corpse,  some  dragging  it  towards  the  grave  and  others  towards 
the  village,  until  it  often  falls  to  the  ground.  An  eye-witneB8 
on  one  occasion  tells  us  that  the  women  and  children,  who 
stood  at  a  distance,  began  to  cry  out  for  fear  lest  the  corpse 
should  forcibly  enter  the  village.  In  the  end,  however,  it  was 
picked  up  and  thrown  into  the  grave  in  a  heap,  and  then  the 
usual  sacrifices  were  offered  (JAI  xxxii.  21S,  221).  The  ceremony 
was  said  to  be  performed  only  in  the  case  of  men  of  the  highest 
repute  (i&.  222). 

7.  Farexoell  speeches. — Men,  however,  have  not 
been  content  with  such  broad  hints  to  the  dead 
and  defences  against  their  return  as  described  in 
previous  paragraphs.  They  have  told  them  in 
plain  terms  that  they  are  not  to  come  back,  that 
the  separation  is  definitive ;  and  a  considerable 
part  of  the  funeral  ceremony  is  often  devoted  to 
tins  purpose,  enforced  both  by  speech  and  symbol. 

Among  the  Bataks  of  Sumatra,  prior  to  the  burial  the  begu 
(soul  or  individuality  of  the  deceased)  is  made  to  understand 
by  a  Shamanistic  ceremony  that  it  belongs  no  more  to  the  living, 
and  must  not  consort  with  them.  Then,  after  a  dance,  a  vessel 
rilled  with  djerango  (a  specific  against  the  begu)  is  carried 
round  it.  Some  parts  of  the  body  are  rubbed  with  a  piece  of  it, 
and  it  is  thrown  on  the  corpse  with  the  words  :  'Thy  younger 
brother  (or  mother,  or  other  relative)  will  converse  with 
thee  no  more'  (ARW  \\\.  503).  During  cremation  among  the 
Chains,  a  man,  who  bears  the  significant  title  of  Master  of 
Regrets,  is  left  behind  at  the  house.  His  business  is  to  curse  it 
and  then  to  adjure  the  deceased  not  to  come  back  to  torment 
bis  family  (Cabaton,  48).  The  Muong  or  Mon  of  Northern 
Tongking  perform  an  elaborate  series  of  rites  with  this  object. 
They  begin  on  the  night  following  the  death.  The  witch-doctor 
comes  and  recites  invocations,  accompanied  by  a  bell  to  drive 
away  evil  spirits.  He  advises  the  60ul  of  the  departed  to  go  to 
the  other  world  and  find  relatives  who  have  preceded  him 
thither.  In  order  to  guide  him  in  his  journey  he  enumerates 
these  relatives  by  name,  pointing  with  his  finger  towards  the 
spots  where  they  have  been  buried.  Then  he  casts  lots  to 
ascertain  whether  the  dead  man  has  understood  him.  If  the 
lots  be  unfavourable,  he  begins  again  as  many  times  as  may 
be  necessary.  The  second  night  a  ceremony  is  performed  in 
honour  of  the  ancestors,  and  also  of  the  tutelary  spirit  of  witch- 
doctors. These  are  prayed  to  show  the  deceased  the  way  to 
the  dwelling  of  the  superior  genii,  with  whom  he  will  find  help  ; 
and  the  witch-doctor  again  casts  lots  to  ascertain  if  he  has 
been  understood.  The  third  night  the  ceremonies  and  offerings 
are  specially  in  honour  of  the  tutelary  spirit  or  genius  of  witch- 
doctors, who  is  requested  to  conduct  the  soul  to  the  grave 
where  the  body  will  lie,  and  which  has  been  dug  during  the 
day.  Before  the  procession  starts  for  the  grave,  the  witch- 
doctor again  casts  lots  to  satisfy  himself  that  the  soul  knows 
the  way  to  the  tomb.  At  the  grave  two  altars  have  been 
improvised,  one  in  honour  of  the  manes  of  the  deceased,  and 
the  other  dedicated  to  the  genius  of  the  earth.  Amid  the 
wailing,  the  witch-doctor  prays  the  former  not  to  torment  the 
survivors,  and  the  genius  of  the  earth  to  keep  him  in  peace 
(Lunet,  350). 

The  Lolos  of  Western  China  give  the  deceased  specific  in- 
structions as  to  the  route  he  is  to  take.  On  the  way  to  the 
grave  '  the  priest  recites  the  Jo-mo,  or  Road  Ritual,  and  he 
accompanies  the  coffin  a  hundred  paces  from  the  house.  This 
ritual  begins  by  stating  that,  as  in  life  the  father  teaches  the 
son,  and  the  husband  the  wife,  it  is  only  the  priest  who  can 
teach  the  dead  man  the  road  that  his  soul  must  travel  after 
death.  The  threshold  of  the  house  is  first  mentioned,  then  the 
various  places  on  the  road  to  the  grave,  and,  beyond  that,  all  the 
towns  and  rivers  and  mountains  that  must  be  traversed  by  the 
soul  till  it  reaches  the  Taliang  mountain,  the  home  of  the  Lolo 
race.  Here  the  priest  says  that  he  himself  must  return,  and 
entreats  the  dead  man  to  pursue  his  way  beyond  the  grave 
alone.  The  dead  man  then  enters  Hades,  and  stands  beside 
the  Thought  Tree  and  the  Tree  of  Talk,  and  there  he  thinks  of 
the  dear  ones  left  behind  and  weeps  bitterly.  After  this  ritual 
is  read,  the  priest  returns  to  the  house,  and  the  coffin  goes 
on  to  the  grave '  (JAI  xxxiii.  103).  On  the  island  of  Serang, 
in  the  Moluccas,  the  priest  prays  the  previously  dead  to  do 
no  harm  to  the  soul,  but  cordially  to  receive  it,  winding  up 
with  a  prayer  to  the  Lord  Heaven  and  the  Lord  Earth  to  let 
all  sicknesses  go  away  from  the  commune  with  the  soul  of  the 
deceased  (Riedel,  141).  On  the  Western  Continent  similar 
intimations  are  given  to  the  departed.  Before  the  body  of  a 
Hupa  was  lowered  into  the  grave,  he  was  addressed  :  *  Don't  be 
lonesome  for  what  you  have  left.  While  you  were  living  you* 
time  came.  May  it  be  well  with  the  people  where  you  used  to 
live  1 '  This,  we* are  told,  is  to  prevent  the  ghost's  return  and 
consequent  misfortune  to  the  family  (Goddard,  70).  More 
I  coarsely  among  the  Greenlanders  a  woman   waves  a  lighted 


428 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


chip  to  and  fro  behind  the  corpse  when  it  is  taken  out  of  the 
house  or  tent,  crying  :  '  There  is  nothing  more  to  be  had  here  ! ' 
(Crantz,  i  23').  In  Central  Africa,  likewise,  as  among  the 
Awemba,  a  speech  is  made  over  a  man's  grave,  promising  that 
the  survivors  will  take  care  of  his  wife  and  children,  and 
expressing  the  hope  that  he  will  become  a  good  spirit  in  the 
next  world  (JAI  xxxvi.  157 ;  cf.  Journ.  Afr.  Soc.  v.  436). 

8.  Death  at  a  distance  from  home. — The  desire 
to  find  one's  last  resting-place  at  home,  among 
one's  kindred  and  friends,  is  natural  to  man  ;  and 
it  has  been  translated  into  a  number  of  ceremonial 
prescriptions  which  emphasize  the  necessity  of  such 
a  burial. 

Sometimes,  as  among  the  Lillooet  of  British  Columbia,  the 
deceased  is  buried  in  a  temporary  manner  where  he  dies,  and 
the  following  year  his  bones  are  brought  home  to  be  buried 
with  his  kindred.  If  this  is  impossible,  the  body  is  burnt  and 
the  ashes  carried  home  (Jesup  Exped.  ii.  270).  Sometimes 
only  a  single  bone  is  brought  home,  as  in  the  case  of  Roman 
soldiers.  Among  the  Ho  of  Togoland,  when  a  man  of  im- 
portance is  killed  in  war,  he  is  buried  on  the  spot;  but  later 
the  grave  is  opened,  his  bones,  hair,  and  nails  are  taken  out, 
put  into  a  coffin,  and  carried  home,  or  at  least  his  brothers  on 
the  maternal  side  must  bring  home  his  finger-  and  toe-nails  and 
his  hair  (Spieth,  277).  A  large  proportion  of  the  modern 
Albanians  (at  least  of  the  men)  die  away  from  home,  owing  to 
their  migratory  habits.  Their  bones  are  collected  and  sent 
home  ;  or  at  any  rate  the  skull  or  a  single  bone  is  brought  back 
(Rodd,  op.  cit.  127).  When  a  Spartan  king  was  killed  in  war  an 
image  was  buried  in  his  place  (Herod,  vi.  58).  In  some  of  the 
villages  around  Cosenza  an  image  is  made  of  a  member  of  the 
family  dying  away  from  home,  and  laid  on  his  bed,  and  the  rest 
of  the  family  standing  around  bewail  him  (Dorsa,  Usi  e  nelle 
credenze  pop.,  18S4,  p.  93).  At  Ouessant  in  Brittany,  when  a 
sailor  died  at  sea,  a  cross  was  taken  to  the  house  and  made  to 
represent  the  corpse.  In  the  isle  of  Sein  his  portrait  was  laid 
on  it,  or,  in  default,  some  object  that  had  belonged  to  him.  The 
clergy  attended,  and  a  funeral  procession  and  service  took 
place  over  this  representative  of  the  body  (RTP  vi.  [1891]  156, 
xiv.  346).  When  a  man  belonging  to  the  Man  Tien  of  Northern 
Tongking  dies  at  a  distance  from  his  home,  the  priest  calls  back 
his  souls  (for  a  Man  Tien  is  endowed  with  a  plurality  of  souls), 
and  causes  them  to  enter  a  doll  made  for  the  purpose,  to  which 
funeral  honours  are  then  accorded  (Lunet,  258).  In  Monte- 
negro a  dummy  body  is  made  with  the  clothing"  of  the  deceased  ; 
wailing  and  all  other  rites  except  actual  burial  are  performed 
over  it  (J AT  xxxix.  92).  Among  the  Basoga  a  few  of  the 
relations  go  a  little  way  from  home,  cut  a  twig,  wrap  it  up  in 
bark-cloth  and  treat  it  in  all  respects  as  the  corpse,  all  the 
ceremonies  being  performed  upon  it,  including  burial  (Cun- 
ningham, 118). 

Proceedings  like  these  are  doubtless  much  more 
than  mere  make-believe  to  the  people  who  indulge 
in  them.  Probably  in  the  first  instance  a  relief  to 
the  feelings  of  the  survivors,  they  must  be  held  to 
be  of  real  value  and  importance  to  the  deceased, 
who  attains  by  their  means  his  due  place  in  the 
other  world  and  the  rest  which  can  come  only  by 
means  of  the  proper  ceremonies.  See,  further, 
§  XT. 

X.  Grave  furniture  and  food.— The  dead  must 
be  gratified  with  food,  and  with  some  or  all  of  his 
most  cherished  worldly  possessions.  The  practice 
of  depositing  these,  either  in  the  grave  or  upon  it, 
is  literally  world-wide.  Both  fear  of  the  dead  and 
affection  for  him  have  concurred  to  carry  it  very 
often  to  extravagant  lengths.  Few  examples  will 
be  required  of  a  rite  so  well  known. 
I.  Food  and  drink. — 

In  Tanembar  and  Timorlaut,  two  of  the  Moluccas,  when 
children  under  two  years  of  age  die,  the  mother  milks  her 
breast  Into  their  mouths  before  burial  (Riedel,  306).  So,  when 
an  Urali  of  the  Dimbhum  jungles  is  about  to  be  buried,  a  cow 
buffalo  is  brought  near  the  car  on  the  burial-ground,  and  a  little 
milk  drawn  and  poured  three  times  into  the  mouth  of  the  corpse 
(Thurston,  vii.  255).  The  practice  of  placing  food  and  water  on 
the  grave  is  recorded  of  several  of  the  Australian  tribes  ;  it  is 
sometimes  continued  for  many  days  (Howitt,  pp.  448,  455,  467, 
474).  Among  some  of  the  Hill  Tribes  of  Assam,  these  offerings  to 
the  dead  are  kept  up  for  a  year  (ARW  xii.  453).  Some  of  the 
Papuan  tribes  plant  taro  beside  the  grave  (ZVRW  xix.  163). 
The  Iroquois,  who  practise  sub-aerial  burial,  deposit  with  their 
dead  a  sack  of  flour,  flesh-meat,  his  spoon,  and  generally  what- 
ever may  be  necessary  for  one"  who  has  to  take  a  long  journey 
(1  RBEW  140,  quoting  de  la  Potherie).  The  Achomawi  Indians 
of  California  placed  with  the  body  quantities  of  food  consisting 
of  dried  fish,  roots,  herbs,  etc.  (ib.  151).  In  Guatemala,  pro- 
visions of  maize  and  flesh  were  given  (Stoll,  Die  Ethnologie  der 
Indianerstamme  von  Guatemala,  Leyden,  1889,  p.  71).  The 
Warraus  of  Guiana  laid  round  the  body  bread,  fruits,  and  dried 
fish  (Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  55).  And  it  may  be  said  generally 
that  similar  practices  are  recorded  of  all  the  tribes  on  the 
American  continent. 


The  Agni  of  West  Africa  provide  the  deceased  with  blood 
(reminding  us  of  the  incidents  recorded  by  Homer,  Od.  xi.), 
food,  and  drink  (Clozel  and  Villamur,  25).  Of  drink,  brandy, 
pombe,  or  rum  is  commonly  given  among  the  Negroes.  On  the 
Lower  Niger,  two  casks  of  rum  or  palm-wine  are  poured  over 
the  grave  to  supply  the  departed  with  spirit  to  entertain  his 
friends  in  the  next  world  (Leonard,  166).  These  customs  are 
followed  not  only  by  the  Negroes,  but  by  most  of  the  branches 
of  the  wide-spread  Bantu  race.  The  Kaffir  tribes  in  the  south 
slaughter  an  ox  and  lay  a  portion  of  its  entrails  on  the  grave. 
The  Baganda  in  the  north  bring  food  and  pour  beer  over  the 
grave. 

But  it  is  not  only  in  the  islands  of  the  Indian  and  Pacific 
Oceans,  and  among  the  ruder  peoples  of  Asia,  Africa,  and 
America  that  the  practice  of  providing  the  dead  with  food  and 
drink  obtains.  The  civilized  Koreans  agree  with  the  Mannans, 
one  of  the  Hill  Tribes  of  Travancore,  in  putting  into  the  mouth 
of  the  corpse  a  quantity  of  rice  (JAI  xxv.  [1896]  347) ;  Ind.  Cens. 
Rep.  1901,  xxvL  3-19).  The  carcasses  of  sheep  and  oxen,  wilh  jare 
of  honey  and  oil,  were  among  the  gifts  added  by  Achilles  to  the 
pyre  of  Patroclus  (II.  xxiii.  166);  and  remains  of  the  funeral 
banquet  have  been  found  carefully  placed  in  graves  of  the  pre- 
historic population  of  Greece.  Nor  has  the  custom  of  giving 
food  to  the  dead  ceased  even  yet  in  the  south-east  of  Europe 
among  populations  of  Greek  tradition.  In  Bulgaria,  for  three 
days  after  a  burial,  women  go  every  morning  to  the  grave, 
kindle  tapers,  fumigate  it  with  incense,  and  pour  over  it  wine 
and  water.  On  the  fortieth  day  a  woman  goes  with  a  priest 
carrying  a  cake,  some  kOlliva  (a  funeral  food  made  of  boiled 
grain,  sugar,  almonds,  sesame,  parsley,  and  pomegranate  seeds), 
and  a  bottle  of  wine,  all  of  which  she  places  on  the  grave,  'that 
the  earth  may  be  cleared  from  the  eyes  of  the  departed.'  The 
priest  repeats  prayers,  fumigates  and  levels  the  grave,  digging 
a  hole  in  it,  into  which  he  pours  water  and  buries  some  of  the 
food.  Nor  is  this  all.  On  every  commemorative  festival  for 
the  dead,  the  women  go  to  the  grave  with  their  tapers  and 
incense,  and  pour  wine  or  water  over  it.  Moreover,  fruit  (for- 
merly also  other  food)  is  often  laid  on  the  grave.  Widows  whose 
deceased  husbands  were  much  addicted  to  coffee  have  been 
known  to  pour  black  coffee  daily  into  an  opening  in  the  grave- 
mound  (Strausz,  Die  Bulgaren,  1898,  pp.  451-53).  In  Macedonia, 
an  apple,  a  quince,  or  some  other  fruit  is  thrust  between  the 
feet  of  the  corpse  before  the  funeral  (Abbott,  Macedonian  FL, 
1903,  p.  197).  In  Montenegro,  apples  are  thrown  into  the  grave  ; 
and,  in  some  parts,  oranges  and  bits  of  bread  are  among  the 
objects  hung  on  a  young  tree  planted  at  the  head  of  the  grave 
(JAI  xxxix.  93).  Elsewhere,  some  of  the  kdUiva  cakes  baked 
for  the  commemorative  festivals  are  broken  up  over  the  grave, 
the  rest  being  consumed  by  the  mourners  or  given  away  (Rodd, 
126).  Am&ineau,  the  distinguished  Egyptian  scholar,  reports 
that  at  Chateaudun,  in  France,  he  has  known  a  widow  place 
a  cup  of  chocolate  on  her  husband's  grave  every  day,  for  more 
than  a  year  (RHR  Hi.  [1905]  10  n.).  The  Wends  and  Kash- 
ubs,  Slav  populations  of  North  Germany  and  Prussia,  put  a 
lemon  into  the  hand  of  the  corpse ;  and,  among  the  Wends, 
children  are  said  to  be  supplied  with  eggs  and  apples ;  while 
men  addicted  to  drink  are  given  pipe  and  brandy-flask,  other- 
wise they  will  have  no  rest  in  the  grave  (Tetzner,  Die  Slawen 
in  Deutschland,  1902,  p.  462;  von  Schulenburg,  Wend.  Volkst., 
pp.  113,  110).  In  Croatia  there  is  a  wide-spread  custom  of 
setting  eggs,  apples,  and  bread  on  the  newly  made  grave  for 
the  hungry  soul,  and  offerings  of  food  are  brought  at  every 
Hallowmasa  (Globus,  lxxxv.  [1904]  39). 

The  Bulgarian  priest,  as  we  have  seen,  digs  a  hole  in  the 
grave,  more  conveniently  to  pour  down  the  water  and  bury  the 
food.  At  Tronis,  in  ancient  Phocis,  was  the  grave  of  the  hero- 
founder,  who  was  daily  worshipped  with  sacrifices :  and  there 
was  a  permanent  hole  communicating  with  the  interior  of  the 
tomb,  through  which  the  blood  of  the  victims  was  poured,  while 
the  worshippers  consumed  the  flesh  on  the  spot  (Paus.  x.  iv.  7). 
Frazer,  commenting  on  the  passage,  has  adduced  a  number  of 
cases  of  Greek  and  Roman  tombs  in  which  a  permanent  passage 
for  food  and  libations  has  been  found,  and  parallels  from  various 
parts  of  Africa,  Peru,,  the  East  and  West  Indies,  and  elsewhere. 

These  examples  might  without  difficulty  be  added 
to ;  but  a  more  or  less  permanent  communication 
between  the  living  world  and  the  interior  of  the 
grave  was  sometimes,  as  we  shall  find  hereafter, 
made  for  other  purposes  than  the  supply  of  food. 

2.  Wives  and  dependents. — Another  custom, 
almost  too  well  known  to  need  illustration,  is 
that  of  killing,  or  burying  alive  with  the  corpse, 
his  wives,  his  slaves,  and  other  dependents  or 
friends.  This  custom  attains  its  greatest  exten- 
sion, of  course,  at  the  funeral  of  a  chief  or  king. 
Its  object  is  to  provide  for  his  comfort  and  his  dig- 
nity in  the  other  -world,  by  giving  him  suitable 
companions  and  retinue.  The  best-known  example 
is  that  of  sail  (q.v. ),  by  which  the  Hindu  widow  was 
burnt  alive  on  her  husband's  pyre — a  rite  abolished 
in  British  India  in  1829,  but  still  surviving  in  the 
native  State  of  Nepal.  The  rite  was  probably 
common  to  Aryan-speaking  peoples  while  in  a  state 
of  savagery,  but  abandoned  as  they  progressed  in 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


429 


civilization,  and  re-introduced,  after  centuries  of 
disuse,  among  the  Aryan  conquerors  of  Upper 
India,  for  reasons  that  can  now  only  be  the  subject 
of  conjecture,  and  perpetuated  under  the  ecclesi- 
astical influence  of  the  Brahmans.  Several  of  the 
non-Aryan  tribes  of  India  practised,  until  quite 
recent  times,  the  analogous  rite  of  burying  alive 
slaves,  or  making  a  raid  for  heads  to  adorn  the 
tomb  (Crooke,  Things  Indian,  Lond.  1906,  p.  446, 
also  Anthropos,  iv.  473). 

We  need  not  follow  the  custom  throughout  the  world.  But, 
as  showing  that  it  prevailed  among  Aryan -speaking  peoples,  it 
may  be  of  interest  to  recall  that  it  is  recorded  by  Ciesar  and 
Mela  of  the  Gauls,  who  practised  cremation  (Caes.  Bell.  Gall. 
vi.  19;  Mela,  iii.  2),  and  the  Thracians  (Mela,  ii.  2);  that  it  is 
known  in  the  Irish  legends  (O'Curry,  Manners  and  Cust.,  Dublin, 
1873,  i.  cccxx.) ;  and  that  the  slaughter  and  cremation  by  Achilles 
of  the  twelve  valiant  Trojans  on  the  pyre  of  Patroclus  are  only 
to  be  thus  explained,  though  the  fashion  had  changed  before 
Homer's  day.  Among  the  Bulgarians  of  the  Volga  it  was  found 
by  the  Arab  traveller,  Ibn  Fadhlan,  in  the  year  921  or  922,  when 
he  witnessed  the  immolation,  on  a  young  chief's  funeral  pyre,  of 
a  girl,  who  seems  to  have  been  formally  wedded  to  the  dead 
youth  before  being  thus  sacrificed  (RHR  lii.  [1905]  325).  The 
old  Slavs  appear  likewise  to  have  put  to  death  wives,  com- 
panions, and  slaves  at  the  funeral  of  a  person  of  importance ; 
and,  when  they  buried  an  unmarried  man  or  woman,  a  wedding 
scene  was  enacted  during  the  ceremonies — an  obvious  relic  of 
such  incidents  as  that  recorded  by  Ibn  Fadhlan. 

Such  relics  are  found  elsewhere.  Among  the  Bavenda  in  the 
Transvaal,  if  a  virgin  boy  dies,  a  girl  is  sent  after  him  into  the 
other  world  to  be  his  wife  there.  She  is  not  now  actually  put 
to  death  ;  the  witch-doctor  knows  of  a  ceremony  which  is  quite 
as  effectual  for  the  benefit  of  the  dead  boy  as  her  death  (JAI 
xxxv.  381).  Among  the  Wadjagga,  or  Wachaga,  a  Bantu  tribe 
of  Central  Africa,  another  series  of  ceremonies  is  appointed  for 
each  of  the  widows,  whereby  'she  frees  herself  from  death' — 
possibly  here  the  contagion  (Globus,  Ixxxix.  198).  The  Tolkotins 
of  Oregon,  with  whom  cremation  is  the  rule,  force  the  widow  on 
the  funeral  pile ;  but,  though  they  scorch  her  more  or  less 
severely,  they  do  not  burn  her  to  death  (1  RBEW  145). 

It  is,  for  obvious  reasons,  rarer  to  tind  a  husband 
put  to  death  with  a  wife  than  the  converse.  But 
probably  the  story  told  in  the  Arabian  Nights  of 
Sinbad,  who  was  buried  alive  with  his  dead  wife, 
was  founded  on  a  barbarous  custom  really  practised 
by  some  ti"ibe  in  the  East. 

The  husband  of  a  woman  of  the  blood-royal  of  the  Natchez 
was  required  to  submit  to  this  rule  (1  RBEW  187).  In 
Ashanti,  with  the  king's  permission,  any  of  his  sisters  may 
marry  a  man  who  is  pre-eminently  handsome,  no  matter  how 
low  his  rank  and  position  may  be.  But  a  man  of  low  rank  who 
may  have  thus  married  one  of  the  king's  sisters  is  expected  to 
commit  suicide  when  his  wife  dies,  or  upon  the  death  of  an  only 
male  child ;  and  any  attempt  to  evade  compliance  is  promptly 
defeated  (Ellis,  Tshi-speaking  Peoples,  Lond.  1S87,  287). 

After  the  abandonment  of  the  custom  of  putting 
to  death  relatives  and  dependents,  its  relics  con- 
tinue to  exist  often  for  ages.  Centuries  ago  it  was 
abolished  in  Japan,  China,  and  Korea ;  but  the 
living  slaves  once  sacrificed  were  for  long,  and 
indeed  still  are  in  places,  represented  by  figures 
in  permanent  or  perishable  material,  according  to 
the  wealth  or  lavishness  of  the  survivors.  To  the 
same  origin  are  due  the  statues  and  statuettes  of 
servants  and  family  found  in  Egyptian  tombs.  The 
Man  Quang  Trang,  of  the  province  of  Hung-Hoa 
in  Northern  Tongking,  build  a  small  hut  beside  the 
barrow,  and  place  near  it  a  doll  representing  a  man 
or  a  woman,  to  be  the  companion  of  the  deceased. 
Striking  the  doll,  they  bid  it  look  well  after  him 
(Lunet,  op.  cit.  275). 

It  is  perhaps  necessary  to  add  that  many  of  our 
accounts  of  the  immolation  of  human  victims  on 
the  occasion  of  a  death  represent  some,  at  all 
events,  of  the  victims  as  dying  willingly,  or  even 
committing  suicide.  It  is  conceivable  that  volun- 
tary deaths  may,  in  a  certain  number  of  cases,  be 
the  result  of  intense  grief.  The  vast  number,  how- 
ever, of  deaths  apparently  voluntary  are,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Hindu  widow  or  the  dependents  of  a 
Gaulish  chief,  constrained  by  custom  and  the  know- 
ledge that  refusal,  while  it  destroys  the  religious 
merit  of  the  act,  will  entail  compulsion,  or  at  least 
that  life  will  be  speedily  rendered  intolerable. 

3.  Property. — It  is  probable  that  in  the  begin- 


nings of  human  civilization,  when  a  man  died,  hi» 
entire  property  was  destroyed,  or  left  with  the 
body,  whether  buried  or  simply  exposed.  This, 
in  fact,  is  still  done  by  many  tribes  in  various 
parts  of  the  world  (see  §  XIX.).  Its  primitive 
purpose  may  have  been  to  escape  the  death-pol- 
lution which  would  attach  to  everything  closely 
associated  with  the  deceased.  His  meagre  property 
would  be  in  a  sense  identified  with  him,  and  must 
therefore  be  put  away  from  among  the  living. 
Such  a  practice,  it  is  obvious,  if  everywhere  per- 
sisted in,  must  have  prevented  that  accumulation 
of  wealth  which  has  rendered  progress  in  the  arts 
of  life  possible.  Consequently,  most  peoples  have 
learnt  to  cut  it  down  to  comparatively  small  dimen- 
sions, giving  only  a  selection  from  the  goods  left 
behind  by  the  deceased,  or  reducing  their  gifts  to 
a  mere  symbol. 

(a)  Domestic  animals. — In  a  comparatively  early  stage,  domes- 
ticated animals  are  often  the  chief  wealth.  Such  animals  are 
slaughtered  not  merely  as  food,  but  to  accompany  their  owner 
into  the  other  world.  When  a  Herero  dies,  certain  of  hia 
favourite  cattle  are  at  once  killed,  expressly  in  order  to  prevent 
the  ghost  from  returning  and  molesting  the  survivors.  On  the 
following  day  the  rest  of  his  favourite  cattle  are  slain  as  a  sacri- 
fice to  the  dead,  and  the  horns  are  arranged  on  a  tree  adjacent 
to  the  grave  (Dannert,  49).  The  Abipones  of  South  America, 
who  bury  with  their  dead  their  entire  property,  or  burn  it  in  a 
bonfire,  when  a  chief  or  a  notable  warrior  dies,  ceremonially  stab 
the  horses  that  were  dearest  to  him,  and  fix  them  on  stakes 
around  the  grave  (Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  61).  The  Tangkhula 
of  Manipur  kill  a  buffalo,  in  order  that  the  creature  ma}'  go  with 
the  dead  into  the  next  world  and  butt  open  the  gates  of  heaven, 
which  are  kept  shut  against  him  (JAI  xxxi.  307).  Here  the 
buffalo  officiates  as  psychopoinp ;  in  other  countries  it  is  the 
dog.  Whether  it  was  in  this  capacity  that  some  of  the  Lillooet 
hunters'  dogs  were  killed  does  not  appear.  Their  bodies  were 
suspended  from  the  four  poles  usually  erected  over  the  grave  to 
sustain  the  ornaments,  weapons,  tools,  and  other  valuables  of 
the  deceased,  or  such  of  these  objects  as  were  not  buried  with 
him  (Jesup  Exped.  ii.  269).  In  pre-historic  barrows  of  England, 
animal  bones  are  frequently  found.  Where  they  are  not  of 
accidental  occurrence,  however,  they  are  usually  the  remains 
of  food  deposited  with  the  dead.  But  in  one  Late  Celtic  inter- 
ment, at  least,  the  skeletons  of  horses  have  been  found  with 
the  remains  of  a  chariot  (Greenwell,  Brit.  Barrows,  Oxf.  1877, 
p.  456).  In  Prussia,  in  graves  of  the  Neolithic  age,  the  war- 
horse  has  been  found  buried  with  the  warrior.  In  Russia, 
what  are  called  Scythian  barrows  and  kurgans  (pre-historic 
grave-mounds)  frequently  yield  the  remains  of  horses ;  and 
similar  relics  are  recorded  of  Frankish  graves  on  the  Rhine, 
as  well  as  of  Magj'ar  and  Polish  graves  dating  from  heathendom, 
and  of  the  various  heathen  tribes  of  Siberia.  Some,  like  the 
Poles,  buried  also  the  falcon  and  the  dog  with  their  master 
(Int.  Arch.  i.  [1S88]  53).  In  all  these  cases  the  animals  appear 
to  have  been  designed  not  by  way  of  food,  but  in  order  to 
accompany  the  deceased  for  use  or  state  in  the  life  after  death. 

(b)  Goods. — Only  a  few  of  the  more  interesting  examples  can 
here  be  enumerated  of  a  custom  practically  universal  from  the 
remotest  times  of  which  either  history  or  archeology  yields  any 
record.  The  Negroes  of  Jamaica,  when  they  think  a  man  has 
been  killed  by  witchcraft,  bury  him  fully  armed  and  equipped 
to  take  vengeance  on  his  slayer  (FL  xv.  88).  When  a  Tangkhul 
is  killed  b}-  a  tiger,  a  hunting-dog,  a  sharpened  thorn,  and  a 
strong  spear  are  put  into  the  grave,  that  the  deceased  may 
have  a  helper  and  weapons  to  defend  himself  if  he  chance  to 
meet  a  spirit-tiger  on  his  way  to  heaven  (JAI  xxxi.  306).  The 
Alsea  Indians  of  Oregon  placed  goods  of  all  kinds  with  the 
corpse,  because  the  bodies  were  animated,  and  moved  about 
at  night  if  they  so  willed.  Easy  exit  from  the  graves  was 
afforded,  and  the  things  deposited  were  for  use  of  the  dead  in 
such  circumstances (Amer.  Anthr.  iii.,  new  ser.  [1901],  241).  Pre- 
historic burials  in  the  Aleutian  Islands  have  been  found,  in  which 
the  corpse  has  been  mummified  in  a  lifelike  posture,  dressed, 
armed,  and  provided  with  implements,  as  if  engaged  in  hunting, 
fishing,  sewing,  etc.  With  these  burials  have  been  found  effigies 
of  the  animals  that  the  deceased  was  supposed  to  be  pursuing, 
also  religious  masks  and  paraphernalia,  all  the  objects,  however, 
being  models  in  carved  wood  (Contr.  iV.  Amer.  Ethn.  i.  [1877] 
90).  Among  the  objects  put  into  the  grave  by  the  Thompson 
Indians  was  the  medicine-bag  or  guardian-spirit  of  the  deceased 
(Jesup  Exped.  i.  [1900]  328). 

In  Europe  the  corpse  is  often  provided  with  corresponding 
gifts.  In  some  districts  of  France,  if  the  deceased  could  read, 
his  Book  of  Hours  was  put  between  his  hands;  if  he  could  not, 
it  was  enough  to  put  the  rosary  over  his  arm.  A  twig  of  box 
blessed  on  Palm  Sunday  was  often  placed  between  his  fingers ; 
and,  both  in  France  and  in  Spain,  it  is  believed  that  this  branch 
will  blossom  every  spring  in  the  tomb  if  he  be  found  wor'hy  of 
entering  heaven  (Laisnel  de  la  Salle,  Croyances  et  Ugertdes  du 
centre  de  la  France,  Paris,  1875,  ii.  72).  Among  the  Wends  of 
the  Spree  Valley  and  Lusatia,  among  the  Masurs,  and  in  Pomer- 
ania,  a  hymn-book  is  put  into  the  coffin  (von  Schulenburg,  110  ; 
Toppen  -,  108 ;  Knoop,  Volkssagen  .  .  .  aus  dem  bstl.  Hinter- 
poinmern,  Posen,  1885,  p.  164).    In  the  17th  cent,  it  seems  U* 


430 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


have  been  not  unusual,  in  various  places,  to  put  a  knotted  cord 
either  into  the  hands  of  the  corpse  or  upon  the  grave.  The  object 
of  doing  so,  it  may  be  conjectured,  was  to  enable  the  dead  to  per- 
form a  penitential  exercise  neglected  during  life,  or  to  deceive 
the  powers  of  the  other  world  into  the  belief  that  he  was  an 
assiduous  penitent.  However  that  may  be,  the  practice  was 
condemned  as  superstitious  by  the  Synod  of  Ferrara  in  1612, 
but  with  so  little  effect  in  France  that  Thiers,  in  his  TraiU  des 
superstitions  2  (1697),  thought  it  necessary  to  repeat  the  prohi- 
bition (Liebrecht,  Gero.  Tiib.,  1866,  p.  226).  In  the  same  century 
a  French  physician  and  traveller  found  among  the  Russian 
Lapps  the  custom  of  putting  into  the  corpse's  hand  a  purse 
with  money,  to  pay  for  entrance  into  Paradise,  and  a  passport 
addressed  to  Saint  Peter  and  signed  by  a  priest.  A  variant 
custom  was  to  put  a  number  of  kopecks,  or  other  small  coins, 
in  the  mouth  of  the  corpse,  and  in  its  hand  a  testimonial  to 
the  character  of  the  deceased,  addressed  to  Saint  Nicholas  by 
the  bishop  of  the  locality  (ZVV  xi.  434,  435).  The  anxiety 
shown  in  Europe  to  provide  the  dead  with  every  comfort  some- 
times goes  beyond  the  verge  of  grotesqueness.  The  Prussian 
Lithuanians,  when  the  coffin  has  been  put  into  the  grave,  open 
it,  put  a  few  coins  under  the  corpse's  head,  a  piece  of  earth  on 
either  shoulder,  adding  some  of  the  small  treasures  of  the 
deceased,  and,  if  he  were  a  magistrate,  his  whip  (Tetzner,  85). 
In  Voigtland,  where  the  objects  which  the  departed  most  de- 
lighted in  are  assiduously  laid  in  his  grave,  his  umbrella  and 
eoloshes  have  been  known  to  be  included  (Kohler,  Volksbrauch 
im  Voigtlande,  1867,  p.  441).  In  some  ancient  graves  in  Wiirt- 
temberg,  attributed  to  the  Alamanni,  is  found  on  either  side  of 
a  body  a  wooden  foot  in  the  form  of  a  last.  It  is  conjectured 
that  these  artificial  limbs  are  intended  as  toll  to  the  ferryman, 
or  to  the  keeper  of  the  bridge  of  the  dead,  or  the  porter  of  the 
under  world,  in  redemption  of  the  real  limb  {ZVV  xi.  457).  But 
they  may  be  intended  to  supply  the  place  of  a  limb  lost  by 
accidentin  the  long  journey  from  this  world  to  the  place  of 
the  dead. 

Perhaps  the  most  pathetic  of  all  objects  found  in 
graves  are  the  toys  buried  with  children.  They 
are  found  almost  all  over  the  world,  not  less  in 
Europe  than  elsewhere.  The  sarcophagus  of  a 
child  named  Crepereia  Tryphaena,  of  the  time  of 
the  Antonines,  found  at  Rome  in  1889  and  now  in 
the  museum  of  the  Capitol,  contains,  besides  her 
betrothal  ring,  her  jewels  and  her  doll.  The 
Masurs  lay  nosegays  and  gilded  apples  in  the  hands 
of  children,  so  that  when  they  reach  Paradise  they 
may  be  able  to  play  on  the  great  meadow  provided 
for  that  purpose  (Tbppen2,  I.e.).  The  Wends  give 
eggs  and  apples  to  their  dead  children  (von 
Schulenburg,  I.e.).  The  sterner  Bosnians  consign 
them  to  the  other  world  with  their  school  copy- 
looks  and  slates  {ZVV*.  [1900]  119). 

To  women,  who  frequently  own  no  property 
except  their  toilet  utensils  and  personal  adorn- 
ments, household  implements  and  those  of  their 
daily  occupations  are  given.  But  all  the  objects 
buried  with  the  dead  are  by  no  means  his  property. 
It  is  a  widely  spread  custom  for  the  survivors  to 
add  contributions,  sometimes  of  large  amount — a 
custom  practised  in  all  stages  of  civilization,  equally 
by  some  of  the  Australian  tribes  and  by  the  Bul- 
garians of  Europe,  who  throw  money  into  the  grave 
before  it  is  filled  up  (Strausz,  Bulgaren,  450). 

The  tendency  to  economy  in  these  deposits  begins 
with  the  accumulation  of  property,  though  its 
operation  is  sporadic  and  uncertain.  It  may  be 
said  in  general  terms  that  among  most  peoples  the 
entire  property  of  the  deceased  is  not  buried  or 
destroyed  at  his  death.  The  greatest  sacrifices  of 
property  would,  as  a  rule,  be  on  the  death  of  a 
king  or  great  chief.  And  even  in  those  cases  a 
part  would  be  given  for  the  whole,  or  a  symbol  for 
the  reality.  In  burials  of  the  Late  Bronze  or  Early 
Iron  age  at  Hallstatt  and  in  Schleswig,  rude  images 
of  oxen  have  been  found  (ARW  v.  [1902]  5);  and 
Capt.  Lyon  found  a  decayed  model  of  a  canoe 
under  a  cairn  beside  an  old  Eskimo  grave  on 
Southampton  Island  (Boas,  Esldmo  of  Baffin  Land, 
p.  61).  The  models  of  boats,  granaries,  houses, 
and  so  forth,  recovered  from  Egyptian  graves, 
were  doubtless  all  intended  to  do  service  in  the 
other  world  for  the  originals.  Gaulish  warriors 
were  buried  sometimes  in  their  chariots  with  their 
horses  ;  but  often  enough,  both  in  England  and  in 
France,  excavations  reveal  the  fact  that  no  more 
than  the  wheels   had   ever   been  placed  in   Late 


Celtic  graves  (Greenwell,  455  ft'.).  The  coin  so 
frequently  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  corpse,  from 
the  far  east  of  Asia  to  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  is 
usually  interpreted  as  an  obolus  for  the  ghostly 
ferryman  or  the  porter  of  the  other  world.  This 
may  be  its  use  ;  but  it  is  probably  only  an  economic 
survival  of  the  practice  of  giving  a  larger  amount 
of  property  as  an  outfit  for  the  other  world  and 
for  the  journey  thither.  Sometimes  only  old  and 
worthless  things  are  given  ;  sometimes  merely  a 
pretence  of  giving  is  made.  Both  customs  are 
illustrated  in  funerals  of  the  natives  of  the  Tami 
Islands,  to  the  north-east  of  New  Guinea.  The 
ancient  practice  was  to  set  the  body  afloat  on  the 
ocean  in  a  canoe.  Those  of  them  who  cling  to  the 
practice  provide  an  old  and  miserable  canoe,  with 
mast,  rudder,  and  sails  equally  bad,  often  merely 
indicated.  The  valuables  of  the  deceased  are  laid 
on  the  platform  of  the  canoe,  with  a  couple  of  coco- 
nuts, but  taken  away  again  before  the  canoe  is 
pushed  into  the  sea  {ABWiv.  [1901] 344).  In  some 
parts  of  the  Tyrol  the  convenient  theory  is  held 
that  the  dead  man  cannot  be  happy  if  buried  with 
any  money  or  rings  about  his  person.  Careful 
search  is  therefore  made,  and  these  objects  are 
removed  to  avoid  any  such  misfortune  (Zingerle, 
Sitten  des  Tir.  Volkes,  Innsbruck,  1871,  p.  49). 

The  objects  buried  or  left  on  the  grave  are  often 
broken  and  rendered  useless.  This  is  said  to  have 
been  done  in  order  to  prevent  stealing.  Thus, 
among  the  natives  of  British  Central  Africa,  ivory 
and  beads  are  first  ground  to  powder,  in  order,  we 
are  told,  to  make  them  useless  to  witches  and 
robbers  (Werner,  Natives  of  Brit.  Cent.  Afr'.,  159). 
The  real  reason  for  this  widely  diffused  custom  lies 
deeper.  In  the  eyes  of  the  people  who  practise  it 
the  breaking  of  the  object  is  the  equivalent  of  the 
death  of  the  human  being  to  whose  service  it  is 
dedicated.  It  is  thus  killed  in  order  that  its  ghost 
may  follow  the  ghost  of  the  dead  into  the  spirit- 
world,  there  to  serve  the  purposes  which  it  served 
in  this  world  when  whole.  Thus  the  Ho  of 
Togoland  lay  broken  cooking-pots  on  the  grave, 
expressly  to  serve  the  deceased  for  cooking-pots 
in  the  other  world  (Spieth,  634).  The  Hupa  of 
California  lay  in  the  grave,  with  the  corpse,  his 
clothing,  weapons,  and  other  property,  shell-money 
and  dance-regalia — all  first  destroyed  by  breaking. 
On  the  grave  are  placed  dishes  and  utensils,  four 
large  burden-baskets,  each  with  a  hole  burnt  in 
the  bottom  and  a  stake  driven  through  it.  Clothes, 
torn  into  strips,  are  hung  on  the  poles  laid  across 
the  grave.  The  reason  for  destroying  the  articles 
buried  is  said  to  be  to  prevent  grave-robbery.  But 
the  same  people  tell  us  that  all  the  objects  accom- 
pany the  spirit  to  the  under  world  (Goddard,  71). 
We  are,  doubtless,  justified  in  believing  that  the 
prevention  of  grave-robbery  is  a  secondary  reason. 

An  interesting  case  is  reported  from  Lincolnshire,  in  which  a 
widow  put  her  husband's  mug  and  jug  on  his  grave,  having  first 
broken  them.  She  told  the  rector  :  '  I  was  that  moidered  with 
crying  that  I  clean  forgot  to  put  'em  in  t'  coffin.  ...  So  I  goes 
and  doest'  next  best.  /  deads  'em  both  over  his  grave,  and  says 
I  to  mysen,  My  old  man,  he  set  a  vast  of  store,  he  did,  by  yon 
mug  and  jug,  and  when  their  ghoastes  gets  over  on  yon  side  h'll 
holler  out,  "  Yon's  mine,  hand  'em  over  to  me,"  and  I'd  like  to 
see  them  as  would  stop  him  a-having  of  them  an'  all '  (FL  ix. 
[1898]  187).  Thus  the  anxiety  to  provide  the  dead  with  an  outfit 
for  the  other  world,  which  is  the  real  intention  of  the  customs 
just  passed  in  review,  whatever  secondary  motives  may  have 
come  to  be  mixed  up  with  it,  lingered  in  England  down  to  the 
last  quarter  of  the  19th  cent.,  and  perhaps  lingers  even  yet  in 
remote  districts. 

4.  Objects  used  in  the  funeral  rites. — We  have 
now  reached  a  class  of  objects  put  in,  or  upon,  the 
grave  for  a  different  reason.  They  are  not  neces- 
sarily the  property  of  the  dead ;  but,  having  been 
used  in  the  funeral  rites,  they  are  contaminated 
with  death,  and  are  no  longer  fit  for  the  service 
of  the  living,  lest  they  spread  the  infection 
further. 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


431 


Hence  the  Yakuts  break  and  throw  on  the  grave-mound  the 
shovels,  the  sledges,  the  stakes — in  a  word,  everything  used  in 
the  funeral  (RHR  xlvi.  211).  The  Apache  also  leave  the  shovel 
on  the  grave  (Am.  Anthr.,  new  ser.,  vii.  [1905]  493)  ;  the  Melan- 
esia™ of  Efate  throw  it  into  the  sea  (Rep.  Austr.  Ass.  iv.  727). 
The  Warundi,  in  Central  Africa,  throw  on  the  tomb  the  door  of 
the  hut,  and  the  basket  with  which  the  earth  has  been  taken 
out  of  the  grave  (van  der  Burgt,  39).  Among  the  Baganda,  all 
who  have  taken  part  in  the  burial  must  wash  their  hands  with 
moist  plantain  fibre,  and  the  fibre  thus  used  is  put  on  the 
grave  (JAI  xxxii.  47).  The  Negroes  in  Jamaica,  as  we  have 
seen,  often  throw  on  the  grave  the  water  in  which  the  corpse 
was  washed  (§  VI.  5).  In  Europe  similar  practices  are  found. 
In  France  the  bowl  which  has  contained  theholy  water  used  for 
aspersion  during  the  ceremonies  is  thrown  into  the  tomb  ;  and 
formerly  in  Brittany  the  incenBe  brazier  was  buried  with  the 
coffin  (Laisnel  de  la  Salle,  ii.  79).  In  Central  Silesia  every- 
thing used  for  the  toilet  of  the  corpse — the  comb,  sponge,  rags, 
soap,  and  so  forth — is  put  into  the  coffin.  Even  the  needle 
and  thread  used  for  sewing  the  shroud  must  not  be  removed, 
but  left  hanging  to  it  (Z  V  V  iii.  151).  But  economy  sometimes 
prevails.  In  some  parts  of  Brunswick  the  bier  and  tools  remain 
only  for  a  few  days  on  the  grave  (to.  viii.  [1898]  437).  It  is 
as  if  the  infection  were  then  at  an  end.  Another  motive  may, 
however,  be  present :  they  may  be  placed  there  to  keep  the 
dead  man  down  as  long  as  there  is  any  chance  of  his  returning, 
and  be  removed  when  this  is  over.  The  author  cited  adduces  in 
favour  of  this  suggestion  the  fear  of  the  dead  betrayed  in  the 
haste  with  which  the  relatives  left  behind  in  the  house,  when  the 
funeral  procession  has  started,  shut  the  door  in  order  that  the 
dead  may  not  fetch  any  one  else.  But  this  is  a  wide-spread 
custom. 

5.  Blood  and  hair. — Among  many  peoples,  the 
delirium  of  grief,  or  more  often  perhaps  (in  accord- 
ance with  well-established  custom)  the  desire  to 
divert  suspicion  of  having  caused  the  death  by 
witchcraft,  and  the  fear  of  the  deceased  himself, 
lead  the  mourners  frantically  to  cut  and  wound, 
and  even  to  mutilate,  themselves. 

The  practice  was  forbidden  to  the  ancient  Hebrews  by  the 
Deuteronomical  legislation  (141) ;  hence  we  may  conclude  that 
it  had  been  previously  in  use  among  them,  as  well  as  among 
their  neighbours.  It  is  universal  among  the  Australian  Black- 
fellows,  and  is  reported  from  Polynesia,  Melanesia,  the  East 
Indian  islands,  and  from  North  and  South  America.  In  very 
many  of  these  cases  the  custom  is  to  let  the  blood  drip  over  tho 
corpse.  Of  Australian  tribes,  we  are  definitely  informed  that 
after  the  body  was  placed  in  the  ground  the  mourners  stood  or 
knelt  over  it  in  turn,  and  were  struck  by  a  large  boomerang  on 
the  head  until  the  blood  flowed  over  the  corpse.  In  other  cases 
the  blood  drips  upon  the  grave  after  it  has  been  filled  in  (JAI 
xxiv.  [1895]  1S7 ;  Curr,  Austr.  Race,  Melbourne  and  Lond. 
1886-87,  ii.  179;  Speneer-Gillena,  507,  609;  FL  xiv.  [1903]  336). 
Among  the  Orang  Sakei  of  Sumatra  the  kindred,  making  a 
cross-cut  with  a  knife  on  their  foreheads,  drop  the  blood  on  the 
face  of  the  corpse  (Wilken,  Haarop/er  .  .  .  bei  den  Vblkern  Indo- 
nesiens,  Amsterdam,  1886-1887,  p.  19).  Four  North  American 
Indians  from  Montana,  who  were  executed  for  murder  at 
Helena,  on  the  head-waters  of  the  Missouri,  in  December  1890, 
were  mourned  by  two  squaws.  One  of  the  squaws  cut  off  two 
of  her  fingers  and  threw  them  into  the  grave.  The  other  gashed 
her  face.  Both  caused  the  blood  to  flow  into  the  grave 
(Letourneau,  Utv.  rel.,  Paris,  1892,  p.  187). 

We  may  assume,  without  much  risk  of  mistake, 
that  the  rite  in  its  complete  and  undegraded  form 
included  the  dropping  of  the  blood  upon  the  dead 
body,  and  where  this  is  not  done  the  rite  is  in 
decay.  Probably  also  it  is  only  persons  standing 
in  certain  specific  relations  with  the  dead  who 
are  commonly  expected  to  perform  it.  This  is 
certainly  the  rule  with  some  of  the  Australian 
tribes.  We  may  suspect  it  of  other  peoples  also. 
If  it  has  not  been  recorded,  that  may  be  because 
the  point  would  be  likely  to  escape  not  merely  the 
casual  traveller,  but  any  one  whose  attention  has 
not  been  specially  drawn  to  it.  But  it  is  by  no 
means  invariable  (e.g.  the  Arawaks  mentioned  be- 
low, §  XVII.  1).  The  meaning  of  the  rite  has  been 
the  subject  of  much  discussion.  It  is  not  mereby 
a  propitiatory  offering ;  it  may  be  this,  but  it  is 
much  more.  A  comparison  of  the  blood-covenant 
and  other  blood-rites  renders  it  almost  certain  that 
one  object,  at  least,  is  that  of  effecting  a  corporal 
union  with  the  dead.  But  is  that  the  only  object  1 
First  of  all,  there  can  be  no  question  that  the 
intention  is  to  cause  suffering  to  the  survivors. 
This  will  be  better  discussed  when  we  come  to  the 
section  on  '  Mourning '  (§  XVII. ).  Further,  human 
blood  is  frequently  given  for  medical  purposes,  or 
to  strengthen  the  recipient  (Strack,  DasBlut,  1900, 


27  ff.  ;  Spencer-Gillen",  461).  It  is,  therefore,  not 
impossible  that  the  object  of  letting  the  mourners' 
blood  drip  over  the  corpse  may  be  to  strengthen 
the  dead  man  for  his  life  in  the  next  world.  This 
would  be  quite  consistent  with  the  avowed  inten- 
tion of  expressing  sorrow  or  pity  (Torres  Str. 
Exped.  vi.  [1908]  154).  But  there  is,  so  far  as  the 
present  writer  is  aware,  no  evidence  pointing  de- 
cisively to  this  interpretation.  Moreover,  it  is 
always  necessary  to  remember  that  rites  different 
in  intention  are  often  similar  in  expression — a 
fact  which  makes  their  interpretation  a  matter  of 
peculiar  difficulty. 

Parallel  with  the  rite  of  dropping  blood  on  the 
corpse  is  another  mourning  rite — that  of  cutting  or 
tearing  the  hair  and  burying  it  with  the  corpse,  or 
dedicating  it  at  the  grave.  It  is  even  more  widely 
diffused  than  the  former. 

At  the  cremation  of  Patroclus  his  comrades  cut  off  their  hair 
and  heaped  it  on  the  body  ;  and  Achilles,  cutting  off  the  golden 
lock  that  his  father  had  vowed  to  offer  at  his  return  home  to  the 
river  Spercheios,  put  it  into  the  dead  hands  to  bear  away  (II. 
xxiii.  135-141).  So  the  mourners  among  the  Sioux  cut  locks  of 
their  hair  and  fling  them  on  the  body ;  and  these  locks  are 
bound  up  with  it,  and  with  the  dead  man's  valuables,  before  it 
is  put  into  the  grave-box  or  coffin  (1  RBEW  159).  Locks  of 
human  hair  have  been  found  with  mummies  in  the  ancient 
cemetery  on  the  bay  of  Chacota,  in  southern  Peru,  and  a  large 
lock  of  soft  human  hair  was  found  beneath  the  head  of  an  infant 
(Rep.  Peabody  Mus.  xi.  [1878]  285  ff.).  Arab  women  cut  their 
hair  on  the  death  of  a  husband,  or  of  a  father,  or  other  near  re- 
lation, and  spread  the  tresses  on  the  tomb,  or  hang  them  on 
stakes  or  cords  above  it  (Jaussen,  94 ;  Hartland,  LP  ii.  220) ; 
while  among  the  Raji  of  the  United  Provinces  of  India  '  the 
children  of  the  deceased  and  his  younger  brothers  get  their 
heads,  beards,  and  moustaches  shaved,  and  the  hair  is  thrown 
on  the  grave '  (Crooke,  TC  iv.  213).  Among  the  Chechenes  of 
the  Caucasus  the  long  queue  of  hair  of  the  widow  of  the  deceased 
is  cut  off  and  thrown  into  the  grave ;  down  to  the  middle  of 
the  18th  cent.,  it  is  said,  her  ear  used  to  be  thus  sacrificed 
(Anthropos,  iii.  735).  The  practice  is  not  yet  obsolete  in  modern 
Europe  among  the  Montenegrin  women.  Not  very  long  ago, 
indeed,  when  the  men  habitually  shaved  their  heads  and 
suffered  only  one  long  crown-lock  to  grow,  that  was  cut  off  and 
thrown  into  the  grave  (JAI  xxxix.  93). 
But,  as  with  the  dropping  of  blood,  it  is  by  no 
means  everywhere  that  the  hair  is  dedicated  in 
this  way.     It  is  often  burnt. 

The  Bilqula  of  British  Columbia,  and  some  of  the  Central 
Tribes  of  Australia,  e.g.,  dispose  of  it  thus  (Brit.  Assoc.  Report, 
1891,  p.  419;  Spencer-Gillen  >>,  607,  620).  The  latter,  indeed, 
sometimes  mix  it  with  some  of  the  hair  of  the  deceased  and  make 
it  up  into  a  girdle,  which  is  worn  by  the  avenger  of  the  dead 
during  the  punitive  expedition  (Spencer-GUlenb,  543;  cf.  514). 

More  usually,  however,  we  are  not  told  what  is 
done  with  the  hair.  In  some  instances  this  may 
be  due  to  omission  to  observe,  or  forgetfulness  to 
record,  on  the  part  of  the  reporter,  a  portion  of  the 
rite  that  is  of  importance.  In  the  majority  of 
cases  we  are  probably  right  in  assuming  that  the 
disposal  of  the  hair  is  not  an  integral  portion  ot 
the  rite — that,  in  fact,  the  rite  has  ended  with 
the  cutting  of  the  hair.  Whether  the  dedication 
of  the  locks  at  or  in  the  grave,  or  by  burning,  has 
in  such  cases  ceased  by  ritual  decay,  or  whether 
the  dedication  never  took  place,  it  is  difficult  to 
say.  One  object,  at  all  events,  of  the  dedication 
of  the  hair  is,  like  that  of  the  blood,  to  form  a  bond 
of  union  with  the  dead.  The  converse  rite  of  tak- 
ing a  lock  of  hair  of  the  dead  may  be  said  to  be 
world-wide.  Nor  is  it  confined  to  a  lock  of  hair  : 
it  extends  in  some  cases  to  the  nails  and  pieces 
of  the  garments.  In  the  West  Indian  island  of 
St.  Croix  the  persons  who  wash  the  corpse  prior 
to  burial  always  take  a  lock  of  hair,  a  garment,  or 
at  least  a  fragment  of  a  garment,  in  order  to  pre- 
vent the  spirit  from  molesting  them  (Hartland, 
LP  ii.  319).  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that, 
according  to  the  theory  of  sympathetic  magic,  any 
portion  of  a  human  being,  such  as  hair,  nails,  skin, 
bones,  and  so  forth,  which  has  become  detached,  is 
still,  in  spite  of  separation,  in  effective  sympathetic 
union  with  the  body  of  which  it  once  formed  part ; 
for  the  personality  inheres  in  every  part  of  the 
body.     The  doctrine  extended  to   the  effigy,   the 


432 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


clothes,  the  property,  and  even  to  the  personal 
name ;  so  that  anything  done  to  any  of  these 
objects  affects  the  owner  as  if  it  were  done  directly 
to  him.  He  is  in  a  sense  present  in  each  of  them. 
Not  only,  therefore,  if  I  take  a  lock  of  a  dead  man's 
hair  do  I  establish  effective  union  with  him  so  as 
to  prevent  him  from  inflicting  any  harm  upon  me  ; 
but,  conversely,  if  I  give  him  a  lock  of  mine  or  a 
drop  of  my  blood,  we  are  bound  together  by  a 
similar  bond.  It  is  sometimes  suggested  that,  as 
in  the  case  perhaps  of  the  dripping  of  blood,  the 
throwing  of  hair  on,  or  giving  it  to,  the  corpse  is  an 
attempt  to  endow  the  dead  with  some  of  the  vital 
strength  of  the  survivors.  This  is,  according  to 
savage  theory,  not  impossible ;  but  there  is  no 
direct  evidence  in  support  of  it.  Another  sug- 
gestion is  that  it  is  a  relic  of  human  sacrifice  to  the 
dead — the  gift  of  a  part  for  the  whole,  or  a  mere 
symbol.  Human  sacrifices,  as  we  have  seen,  are 
common  enough.  Evidence,  however,  of  the  in- 
tention of  a  gift  of  hair,  as  a  commutation  of  the 
practice  of  human  sacrifice,  does  not,  so  far  as  we 
know,  exist.  It  would  seem  more  likely  in  the 
gift  of  blood  or  of  severed  members,  such  as  those 
of  the  Montana  squaws  above  cited ;  but  even 
there  proof  is  wanting.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
is  evidence  that  sometimes  where  the  rite  is  not 
completed  by  giving  the  hair  to  the  corpse  the 
intention  is  merely  purification,  as  where  the  hair 
is  cut  at  the  end  of  the  mourning. 

Before  leaving  the  subject  it  may  be  added  that, 
while  among  many  savage  peoples  there  is  weeping 
as  well  as  blood-letting  over  the  corpse,  in  Europe 
it  is  believed  that  tears  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to 
fall  on  the  body.  Even  to  weep  overmuch,  apart 
from  the  corpse,  is  wrong,  because  it  prevents  the 
dead  from  resting  in  the  grave.  There  are  many 
stories  in  European  folklore  of  the  dead  who  have 
appeared  to  survivors  to  reproach  them  with  their 
excessive  grief,  and  have  exhibited  their  shrouds 
wet  with  their  tears.  Further,  it  is  most  import- 
ant not  to  allow  anything  worn  by  a  survivor  to 
be  buried  with  the  corpse,  or  put  into  the  grave. 
To  do  so  means  decline  and  death  to  the  person  to 
whom  the  article  belongs ;  hence  it  is  sometimes 
done  maliciously,  and  is  reckoned  witchcraft. 

6.  Fire. — In  the  lower  culture  it  is  not  unusual 
to  light  a  fire  at  or  on  the  grave — a  practice  common 
in  Australia,  where  the  reason  assigned  is  to  warm 
the  ghost.  The  tribes  about  Maryborough  add  a 
further  reason :  to  keep  away  the  spirits  of  dead 
blacks  of  other  tribes,  or  of  bad  men  of  their  own 
tribe  (Howitt,  470). 

These  fires  at  or  on  the  graves  are  maintained  for  varying 
periods,  according  to  the  tribe,  or  the  amount  of  affection  for 
the  deceased ;  and  sometimes  several  are  lighted.  The  same 
custom  is  found  on  several  of  the  Melanesian  islands  and 
those  of  the  East  Indian  Archipelago  (L'Anthrop.  xiii.  775 ; 
JAI  xxxiii.  120 ;  Rep.  Austr.  Ass.  iv.  711 ;  Anthropos,  i.  23, 
iv.  465;  Haddon,  Torres  Str.  Rep.  v.  249,  260;  Eiedel,  142, 
143 ;  Kruijt,  310),  among  various  peoples  of  Further  India  and 
Assam  (Lunet,  330 ;  JAI  xxxii.  135,  xxvi.  200),  among  the  in- 
sular Caribs  and  tribes  of  South  America  (Int.  Arch.  xiii.,Suppl. 
57,  59,  81).  In  North  America,  the  Tarahumares  of  Mexico,  who 
bury  in  caves,  light  a  fire  the  first  night  after  burial.  All  their 
burial-caves  are  consequently  blackened  with  smoke  (Lumholtz, 
Unknown  Mexico,  N.Y.  1903,  i.  70,  383).  The  Seminoles  of 
Florida  make  a  fire  at  each  end  of  the  grave  and  keep  it  up 
for  three  days,  while  after  nightfall  torches  are  waved  in  the 
air,  that  the  bad  birds  of  the  night  may  not  get  at  the  dead 
man  (5  RBEW  521).  The  practice  of  lighting  fires  at  the  grave 
is  reported  of  the  Hupa  (Goddard,  70,  72)  and  the  Turok  on  the 
other  side  of  the  continent  in  California  (Powers,  Contrib.  N. 
Am.  Bthnol.  iii.  [1877]  bS).  The  latter  believe  the  fire  is  necessary 
to  light  the  spirit  of  the  departed  on  its  perilous  journey  to  the 
other  world.  The  sarn.e  belief  and  consequent  practice  were 
known  to  the  Algonquins  ;  and  the  Klamath  of  the  North-West 
keep  up  a  fire  for  the  three  days  which  are  occupied  with  the 
funeral  ceremonies,  holding  that,  until  they  are  finished,  the 
soul  of  the  dead  is  in  danger  from  O-mah-a,  said  to  mean 
the  devil.  In  addition  to  lighting  the  fire,  the  survivors 
howl  around  the  grave  in  order  to  scare  away  the  demon 
(1  RBEW  107). 

From  the  numerous  remains  of  fires  in  the  pre-historic  burial- 
mounds  of  the  United  States  there  seems  reason  to  conjecture 


that  at  one  time  the  practice  of  lighting  fires  at  the  grave  ex- 
tended over  a  wide  area,  of  which  the  modern  instances  cited 
may  be  the  survival  (5  RBEW  17,  25,  47,  71,  78). 

More  than  one  reason,  as  we  have  seen,  is  alleged 
for  the  custom.  On  the  one  hand,  it  is  to  warm 
the  ghost,  and  to  light  and  comfort  it  on  its  way  to 
the  other  world ;  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  to  drive 
away  evil-disposed  beings.  The  use  of  fire  and 
lights  for  the  latter  purpose  is  widely  extended. 
It  is,  beyond  reasonable  doubt,  the  origin  of  the 
European  practice  of  the  lights  in  the  death 
chamber,  of  the  candles  sometimes  put  into  the 
dying  hands,  of  the  consecrated  tapers  that  sur 
round  the  coffin  at  the  funeral.  Similarly,  lights 
are  kept  burning  in  the  chamber  with  a  new-born 
child  and  its  mother,  as  a  protection  against 
witches  and  fairies  ;  and  they  are  used  for  the  like 
purpose  on  many  other  occasions.  But  there  is 
another  reason  equally  potent,  namely,  to  keep 
away  the  dead  man  himself.  This  reason  may  not 
be  operative  in  all  cases,  as  in  Australia  where  it 
is  definitely  believed  that  the  ghost  haunts  the 
fire  on  the  grave,  or  among  the  Yurok  where  it  is 
required  to  light  the  ghost  in  its  perilous  passage 
of  a  greasy  pole  across  the  chasm  to  the  other 
world.  But  in  other  cases  it  is  clear  that  the  fire 
is  a  defence  against  the  dead  man  himself. 

One  Australian  tribe  is  Baid  to  go  the  length  of  cutting  off  the 
corpse's  head  and  roasting  it  in  the  fire  made  upon  the  grave. 
When  the  head  is  thoroughly  charred,  it  is  broken  up  into  little 
bits,  which  are  left  among  the  hot  coals  of  the  dying  fire.  *  The 
theory  is  that  the  spirit,  rising  from  the  grave  to  follow  the 
tribe,  misses  its  head  and  goes  groping  about  to  find  it ;  but, 
being  bereft  of  its  head,  it  is,  of  course,  blind,  and  therefore,  not 
being  able  to  see  the  fire,  gets  burnt.  This  frightens  it  so 
terribly  that  it  retires  into  the  grave  with  all  expedition, 
and  never  again  presumes  to  attempt  a  renewal  of  social  inter, 
course  with  the  human  denizens  of  this  world  '  (JAI  xiv.  [18851 
88).  We  have  already  seen  that  among  the  Eskimo  of  Greenland 
a  lighted  chip  is  waved  behind  the  corpse  when  it  is  taken  out 
of  the  house,  with  a  clear  intimation  to  the  dead  to  be  gone 
(§  IX.  7).  In  the  Southern  Nicobars  a  fire  is  made,  even  before 
the  burial,  at  the  entrance  of  the  hut,  out  of  chips  from  the  bier 
and  coco-nut  husks,  on  purpose  to  bar  the  ghost ;  while,  before 
the  grave  is  filled  in,  the  spirits  of  those  present  are  waved  out 
of  it  by  a  torch,  thus  rendering  unmistakable  the  intention  to 
place  a  barrier  of  fire  between  the  living  and  the  dead  (Ind. 
Cens.  Rep.,  1901,  iii.  209).  So,  too,  among  the  Ewhe  of  Togo- 
land,  who  bury  under  the  hut,  a  fire  is  maintained  during  the 
whole  period  of  mourning,  and  strongly  smelling  herbs  are 
burnt  in  it  to  keep  the  ghost  at  a  distance  (Globus,  lxxxi.  [1902] 
190).  The  same  motive  may  account  for  the  practice  in  some 
districts  of  Europe  of  burning  on  the  road  from  the  house  to 
the  cemetery,  after  the  funeral  procession  has  passed,  the  straw 
on  which  the  corpse  has  lain  (Am  Urquell,  vi.  [1S96]  201). 

XI.  Precautions  against  haunting. — I.  Burying 
the  soul. — Ceremonies  of  the  kind  referred  to  in 
§  IX.  8  seem  to  be  directed  to  securing  the  soul, 
in  default  of  the  body,  and  performing  over  it  the 
funeral  rites.  This  was  expressly  the  case  in  China 
(de  Groot,  iii.  847).  But  it  is  not  only  where  the 
body  is  not  obtainable  that  the  soul  is  buried. 

Several  of  the  tribes  of  Northern  Tongking  collect  the  souls  of 
the  deceased  and  bury  them,  either  with  the  body  or  apart  in  a 
separate  grave  (Lunet,  163,  244,  274).  The  mixed  Melanesian 
and  Polynesian  population  of  Savage  Island  stand  in  great  fear 
of  the  aitu,  the  spirit  of  the  departed.  Their  injunction  to  a 
dying  man  is  :  'If  you  leave  us,  go  altogether.'  At  the  burial, 
heavy  stones  are  thrown  upon  the  grave  to  keep  the  aitu  down. 
Prior  to  the  burial  they  spread  a  piece  of  white  bark-cloth 
beside  the  body,  and  the  insect  that  first  crawls  upon  it  is  care- 
fully wrapped  up  and  buried  with  the  body  ;  it  is  the  mo'ui,  the 
soul.  Further,  a  dome  pf  concrete  is  made  over  the  grave  to 
prevent  the  ghost  from  rising  (Thompson,  Savage  Island,  Lond. 
1902,  p.  52 ;  JAI  xxxi.  [1901]  139).  So  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Nicobar  Islands  bury  beneath  the  body  a  cloth  carefully  wrapped 
up,  which  is  believed  to  contain  the  soul  (Int.  Arch.  vi.  [1893] 
24).  Among  some  of  the  Ewhe  of  Togoland,  when  one  has  been 
fatally  bitten  by  a  snake  (one  of  the  kinds  of  evil  death),  on 
the  ninth  day  after  burial  the  witch-doctor  starts  before  dawn 
for  the  place  in  the  bush  where  the  deceased  was  bitten.  His 
object  is  to  fetch  the  soul.  He  takes  only  one  man  with  him, 
so  as  not  to  frighten  it.  He  performs  incantations,  summons 
the  soul,  and  addresses  soothing  words  to  it.  Presently  he 
is  joined  by  the  young  men  of  the  village,  who  unite  in  en- 
deavouring to  console  the  ghost.  They  dig  up  the  earth  from 
the  spot  where  the  fatal  wound  was  given,  and  put  it  in  a  jar, 
which  is  bound  with  some  white  fabric.  The  jar  is  put  on  the 
head  of  somebody  who  has  previously  met  with  the  same 
accident,  but  has  recovered  ;  and  with  the  firing  of  guns  the 
procession  returns  to  the  housfi.   Thence,  accompanied  by  those 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


433 


who  have  remained  at  home,  they  proceed  to  the  place  in  the 
bush  where  the  unfortunate  man  haa  been  buried.  They  set 
the  jar  upside  down  on  the  grave  and  leave  it  there :  it  contains 
the  soul  (Spieth,  290 ;  cf.  766,  760).  Among  the  Brassmen  of  the 
Lower  Niger  a  man  who  dies  with  unhealed  sores  (therefore  'a 
bad  death ')  is  buried  apart  from  the  ordinary  burial-place. 
But  his  soul  is  afterwards  evoked,  and  with  an  elaborate  cere- 
mony embodied  in  a  wooden  figure  and  buried  in  the  proper 
place  (Leonard,  168). 

2.  Binding  and  mutilating  the  body. — The  in- 
tention of  burying  the  soul  is  to  prevent  its  wander- 
ing about,  haunting  the  survivors,  and  perchance 
causing  them  misfortune  or  death.  This  is,  of 
course,  by  no  means  the  only  precaution.  We  have 
already  met  with  many,  and  there  are  some  others 
which  must  be  noticed  here.  The  binding  of  the 
body  in  the  attitude  proper  to  burial  (see  §  VIII.  2) 
haa  this  at  least  for  one  of  its  objects.  It  is  indeed 
often  expressly  reported  as  the  object  (e.g.  JAI 
x.  145).  It  is  said  in  Lincolnshire  that  'when 
the  corpse  is  placed  in  the  coffin  you  must  never 
forget  to  tie  the  feet,  else  the  dead  may  return, 
or  some  other  spirit  may  take  possession  of  the 
body  for  his  own  purposes'  (Gutch  and  Peacock, 
Lines.  County  FL,  1908,  p.  240).  The  practice  of 
tying  the  feet,  or  at  least  the  great  toes  together, 
is,  in  fact,  not  uncommon  in  Europe. 

But  binding  is  not  enough.  We  saw  that  the 
sinews  and  the  backbone  were  sometimes  cut. 

The  Basuto  and  Bechuana  are  not  alone  in  these  practices ; 
they  are  found  in  other  African  peoples.  The  customs  of 
Australia  are  even  more  revolting.  The  Herbert  River  tribes 
beat  the  corpse  with  a  club,  often  so  violently  as  to  break  the 
bones ;  and  incisions  are  made  in  the  stomach,  on  the  shoulders, 
and  in  the  lungs,  and  are  filled  with  stones  (Howitt,  p.  474).  A 
tribe  in  Western  Australia,  as  has  been  mentioned,  burns  the 
head  and  breaks  up  the  charred  bones,  for  the  express  purpose 
of  preventing  the  deceased  from  haunting  the  survivors.  It  is 
said  that  certain  of  the  Negroes  of  Bahia  break  all  the  long  bones 
and  twist  the  neck  of  the  corpse  (Rodrigues,  UAmmisme 
Htichiste  des  negres  de  Bahia,  1900,  p.  119).  When  one  has 
been  killed  by  lightning,  the  Omaha  of  North  America  are 
accustomed  to  bury  the  body  on  the  very  spot  where  the  death 
occurred,  face  downwards,  and  the  soles  of  the  feet  previously 
slit  (JAFL  ii.  [18S9]  190).  The  practice  in  Europe,  though  not 
literally  identical,  has  been  parallel  down  to  within  the  lifetime 
of  the  present  generation.  It  is  not  very  long  since  suicides 
were  buried  at  cross-roads  with  a  stake  through  the  body. 
Another  way  of  dealing  with  them  was  to  cut  off  the  head 
and  place  it  between  the  legs.  A  mediaeval  corpse  which  had 
suffered  this  mutilation  was  found  a  few  years  ago  in  a  stone 
coffin  in  Royston  Church,  near  Barnsley  (^i  xii.  101).  Bodies 
have  been  found  with  the  same  mutilation  in  a  cemetery 
in  Albania,  dating  probably  from  the  4th  or  5th  cent.  a.d. 
(L'Anthrop.  xii.  663);  it  was  well  known  throughout  Europe 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  was  practised  as  lately  as  the  year 
1892  among  the  Lithuanian  population  of  Somenishki  in  the 
Government  of  Kovno  (Am  Urquell,  v.  [1894]  87),  in  the  latter 
case  avowedly  that  the  deceased  might  not  be  in  a  condition 
to  '  walk '  and  injure  the  fields ;  for  suicides  are  believed  to 
4  walk  '  in  the  shape  of  Germans,  or  else  as  he-goats,  to  mislead 
wayfarers,  or  with  the  weapon  or  cord  in  their  hands  with 
which  they  have  taken  their  lives.  They  injure  the  fields  by 
causing  hail  and  storms ;  and  the  touch  of  their  bodies  blights 
the  earth  :  hence  they  are  buried  in  waste  places  (Am  Urquell, 
lii.  [1892]  50,  52,  53). 

The  cremation  of  vampires  has  already  been  mentioned  (§  VII. 

(#)).    A  dead  man  who  gave  trouble  among  the  ancient  Norse 

»y  haunting  was  often  taken  up  and  burnt.  Sometimes  milder 
measures  were  successful,  as  m  the  case  of  Thorolf  Halt-foot, 
who  was  removed  to  another  grave  with  a  wall  so  high  that  none 
but  fowl  flying  could  cross  it  (Morris,  Ere -dwellers,  1892,  p.  92). 
The  fencing  of  graves  is  by  no  means  always  to  protect  the  dead ; 
probably  it  is  quite  as  much  for  the  protection  of  the  living. 
Thus  the  Cheremiss  fence  the  grave  with  stakes  that  the  dead 
may  not  get  out  and  walk  the  fields  (Smirnov,  Pop.  Jinnoises,  i. 
138).  Many  of  the  South  American  tribes  with  the  same  object 
stamp  down  the  earth  upon  the  corpse  ;  and  the  Achagoas  even 
cover  the  grave  with  mortar  and  carefully  fill  up  every  morning 
any  cracks  that  may  have  taken  place  (int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl. 
93,  96).  Cists,  urns,  coffins,  and  grave-boxes  also  serve  the  pur- 
pose of  shutting  in  the  dead,  that  they  may  not  torment  the 
survivors ;  and  perhaps  this  was  their  original  intention. 
Among  the  natives  of  South  Australia  it  seems  to  have  been 
the  custom  to  stop  and  fasten  up  all  the  orifices  of  the  body, 
doubtless  to  keep  the  ghost  within  (JAI  viii.  [1879]  393)— a 
practice  adopted  by  the  Malays  (Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  p.  401). 
The  inhabitants  of  Nias  bind  not  only  the  fingers  and  toes, 
but  also  the  jaws,  and  put  stoppers  in  the  nostrils  to  keep  in 
the  soul  (Modigliani,  Nias,  1890,  p.  283).  A  more  barbarous 
precaution  is  practised  in  Bulgaria,  where  sometimes  a  needle 
is  stuck  into  the  navel  of  the  corpse  (Strausz,  Bulgaren,  454). 
On  the  islands  of  Ambon  and  L'liase,  in  the  Moluccas,  this 
form  of  protection  is  used  only  in  the  case  of  women  dying  in 
child-bed.  In  such  a  case  thorns  and  pins  are  stuck  between 
VOL.  IV. — 28 


l. 


the  joints  of  the  fingers  and  toes,  in  the  knees,  shoulders,  and 
elbows,  eggs  of  hens  or  ducks  are  laid  under  the  chin  and  arm- 
pits, and  a  portion  of  the  corpse's  hair  is  brought  outwards  and 
nailed  fast  between  the  coffin  and  its  lid.  These  elaborate  pre- 
cautions are  intended  to  prevent  the  deceased  from  getting  out 
of  the  coffin  and  flying  away  in  the  form  of  a  bird,  to  plague 
men  and  pregnant  women.  Even  if  she  succeeded  in  getting 
out,  it  is  believed  that  she  would  not  forsake  the  eg^s  (Eiedel, 
81). 

It  should,  however,  be  said  that  the  corpse  is  sometimes 
wounded  with  quite  a  different  intention  from  that  just  men- 
tioned. The  Puri  of  South  America  open  the  breast  to  let  out 
the  soul  (Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  87).  Another  South  American 
tribe,  the  Lengua  of  the  Paraguayan  Chaco,  in  accordance  with 
a  well-known  principle  of  sympathetic  magic,  cut  open  the 
stomach  of  one  whose  death  they  attribute  to  witchcraft,  and 
insert  a  stone  and  some  charred  bones.  This  is  supposed  to 
revenge  the  death  by  killing  the  wizard  (JAI  xxxi.  296;  cf. 
Hartland,  LP  ii.  109).  Some  of  the  Naga  tribes  of  Assam  wound 
the  corpse  on  the  head,  that  the  deceased  may  be  received  aa 
a  warrior  with  distinction  in  the  other  world  (JAI  xxvi.  198  ; 
ARW  xii.  454). 

XII.  Return  from  the  funeral. — The  deceased 
being  thus  comfortably  provided  for  and  admonished 
by  word  and  deed  to  stay  where  he  has  been  put,  or 
to  go  into  the  other  world,  and  in  any  case  not  to 
meddle  with  the  living,  the  mourners  return  from 
the  grave.  What  they  have  to  dread  is  that,  in 
spite  of  these  and  other  precautions,  the  ghost  may 
attach  himself  to  them  and  thus  succeed  in  getting 
home  again.  For,  as  is  obvious  from  what  has 
already  been  said,  the  dead  man  is  regarded  as  by 
no  means  willing  to  be  deprived  of  the  society  to 
which  he  has  been  accustomed.  Accordingly  the 
burial  is  often  conducted  with  the  greatest  haste. 

Thus  among  the  Bontoc  Igorot  of  Luzon,  when  the  corpse  haa 
been  put  into  the  coffin,  it  is  hustled  away  with  the  help  of 
many  willing  hands;  no  time  is  wasted  at  the  graveside;  the 
filling  up  of  the  grave  is  done  in  the  shortest  possible  time — 
probably,  in  the  case  witnessed  by  Jenks,  not  over  one  minute 
and  a  half ;  and  away  the  mourners  hurry,  most  of  them 
at  a  dog-trot,  to  wash  themselves  in  the  river  (A.  E.  Jenks, 
Bontoc  Igorot,  1905,  p.  78).  On  the  other  hand,  so  deeply 
defiled  are  the  members  of  the  family  considered  by  the  Papuan 
tribes,  and  so  impossible  is  it  for  them  at  once  to  get  rid  of  the 
ghost,  that  they  erect  a  hut  on  the  grave  and  there  camp  for 
six  weeks  or  more,  the  widows  in  particular  huddled  in  one 
corner  away  from  the  rest,  invisible  and  unwashed  (AE  W  iv. 
345).  The  Ojibwa  widow  springs  over  the  grave  and  then 
runs  zigzag  behind  the  trees,  as  if  she  were  fleeing  from  Home 
one.  She  thus  dodges  the  ghost  of  her  husband,  that  it  may 
not  haunt  her  (Jones,  Ojebway  Indians,  1861,  p.  99). 

Specimens  of  the  obstacles  put  in  the  way  of  the 
ghost  have  already  been  given.  "Without  going 
over  the  same  ground,  a  few  examples  may  here  be 
noted  of  the  methods  of  preventing  the  ghost  from 
attaching  itself  to  those  who  have  taken  part  in 
the  last  rites. 

The  Batak  priest,  as  the  grave  is  being  closed,  beats  the  air 
with  a  stick  to  drive  away  the  souls  of  the  living  men  (AliW 
vii.  504).  In  the  Southern  Nicobar  Islands  the  family  return 
to  the  hut,  where  they  sleep.  The  next  day  it  is  purified  by 
brushing  and  washing,  the  mourners  bathe  and  are  anointed 
on  the  head  and  shoulder  by  a  priest,  and  a  lighted  torch  is 
waved  '  to  drive  away  the  spirits '  (h\d.  Cens.  Rep. ,  1901,  iii.  209) 
In  North-Eastern  Rhodesia  all  spit  on  the  grave  when  it  is 
filled  up,  and  return  to  the  village  without  looking  back.  This 
is  now  said  to  be  a  precaution  against  giving  a  clue  to  some 
watchful  hyaena  to  dig  up  the  body  ;  it  is  more  likely  that  the 
custom  originated  in  a  precaution  of  a  different  sort  (Journ. 
A/r.  Soc.  v.  436).  The  Masurs  of  Eastern  Prussia  hold  that  the 
deceased  accompanies  the  first  bearer  home,  whereupon  the 
latter  asks  him:  'Have  I  made  thy  bed  properly?  If  not,  I 
will  make  it  better.*  Only  then  is  the  ghost  appeased  and  goes 
back  to  the  grave  (Tcippen2, 110).  The  Mordvin  mourners  stop  a 
little  distance  from  the  graveyard,  and  one  of  the  gravediggers, 
with  the  same  tool  that  he  has  used  to  dig  the  grave,  draws  a 
circle  round  them.  This  is  repeated  twice.  When  they  reach 
the  house,  the  oldest  woman  of  the  family  throws  in  their  way  a 
log  and  a  cutlass,  over  which  they  step.  The  intention  of  the 
cutlass  is  to  frighten  the  deceased,  who,  according  to  popular 
belief,  is  at  th<.-ir  heels  (Smirnov,  i.  364).  In  the  Babar  Archi- 
pelago four  stakes  with  cross-beams  are  set  up  over  the  grave 
and  a  piece  of  coarse  red  cotton  stuff  stretched  across  them  in 
the  form  of  a  canopy.  A  piece  of  rotan  is  fastened  to  one  of 
the  stakes,  and  one  end  of  it  is  held  by  the  villagers  present. 
The  rotan  being  held  taut,  the  head  of  the  household,  counting 
from  one  to  seven,  cuts  it  in  two  with  one  blow  of  his  parang. 
The  end  left  in  the  hands  of  the  survivors  is  brought  back  by 
one  of  the  kin  to  the  house  of  the  departed,  as  a  symbol  that  all 
intercourse  with  the  departed  is  broken  off,  and  that  he  now 
belongs  to  the  kindred  in  the  other  world  (Riedel,  359).  The 
firing  of  guns  and  beating  of  drums,  so  usual  at  a  funeral  in 
various  parts  of  Africa,  is  probably  intended  to  drive  away  the 
ghost.     Elsewhere,  as  in  Melanesia,  it  is  avowedly  hunted  awav- 


434 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


XIII.   Lingering  of  the  soul. — The  unwillingness 

oi  the  soul  to  sever  its  earthly  ties  is  not  easily 
overcome.  So  far  from  retiring  into  the  other 
world  when  the  last  breath  has  left  the  body,  it 
habitually  lingers  at  the  place  of  death,  or  with 
the  corpse. 

The  Huron  ghost  walks  in  front  of  the  funeral  procession, 
and  remains  in  the  cemetery  until  the  feast  of  the  dead ;  by 
night,  however,  it  stalks  through  the  village  and  eats  the 
*eavings  of  the  food  of  the  living  (Le  Jeune,  Jesuit  Ret.  x.  [1636] 
143).  In  a  Negro  funeral  in  Jamaica  the  ghost  sits  on  the  coffin 
(FL  xv.  [1904]  208).  The  Korean  ghost,  more  luxurious,  rides  in 
a  sedan  chair  (JAI  xxv.  351).  About  Konigsberg,  if  you  look 
through  the  gravedigger's  arm  when  the  coffin  is  being  let  down 
into  the  grave,  you  can  see  the  ghost  (Am  UrqueU,  ii.  80). 

In  the  belief  of  peoples  in  every  part  of  the  world 
it  haunts  the  grave  for  a  period  variously  stated 
from  a  few  days  to  many  months,  or  even  an  in- 
definite period.  Indeed,  as  already  indicated,  the 
frave  is  often  conceived  as  the  permanent  resi- 
ence  not  merely  of  the  body,  but  of  the  soul. 
Where  the  belief  in  a  world  of  the  dead  is  developed, 
the  ghost  usually  departs  at  latest  after  the  per- 
formance of  certain  rites  to  be  discussed  hereafter 
(§  XXI. ).  Meanwhile  it  is  necessary  to  attend  to 
its  wants  by  the  placing  of  food  and  sometimes  a 
shelter  on  the  grave.  The  tribes  of  Central 
Nigeria  considerately  leave  a  small  hole  in  the 
grave-mound,  where  it  may  go  in  and  out  (L.  Des- 
plagnes,  Le  Plateau  central  nige'rien,  Paris,  1907, 
pp.  249,  257,  262).  It  even  sets  at  defiance  the 
precautions  taken  to  prevent  it  from  returning  to 
its  earthly  home. 

A  common  superstition  in  Europe  is  that  a  mother  who  dies 
leaving  a  suckling  returns  for  six  weeks  after  the  funeral  to 
suckle  her  little  one.  According  to  the  Bulgarians,  the  ghost 
lingers  for  forty  days  in  the  house,  and  returns  again  on  the 
first  Easter  Day  until  the  first  Whitsunday  after  the  funeral 
(Strausz,  451,  45S).  The  Minangkabau  Malays  of  the  Padang 
Highlands  keep  the  seat  and  bed  of  the  deceased  clean  and  tidy 
for  a  hundred  days,  lest  the  ghost  be  offended ;  for  it  haunts 
the  house  during  that  period  (Bijdragen  tot  de  Taal-  Land-  en 
Volkenkunde  van  Nederlandsch- Indie,  xxxix.  [1890]  70).  Among 
the  Yakuts  the  ghost  wanders  round  the  body,  visits  the  places 
the  dead  man  frequented  in  hiB  lifetime,  and  tries  to  complete 
any  work  he  has  left  unfinished.  In  the  silence  of  the  night  the 
ghosts  of  men  attend  to  the  cattle  and  meddle  with  the  harness, 
while  the  ghosts  of  women  may  be  heard  washing  up  the  dishes, 
sweeping  the  rooms,  tidying  the  granary  or  the  chests,  sighing 
and  whispering  the  while.  The  survivors  may  sometimes  even 
see  them  sitting  tranquilly  in  the  firelight  or  walking  about  the 
fields  (RHR  xlvi.  [1902]  224). 

XIV.  Purification  of  the  survivors. — When  the 
funeral  is  ended,  all  who  have  taken  part  in  it 
must  commonly  be  purified.  As  the  necessity  for 
purification  attaches  also  to  all  mourners,  and  is 
sometimes  deferred  until,  or  perhaps  more  fre- 
quently repeated  after,  the  completion  of  the  death 
rites,  the  examples  following  are,  in  order  to  avoid 
repetition,  not  confined  to  the  immediate  return 
from  the  funeral.  The  most  usual  methods  of 
purification  are  by  fumigation  and  bathing. 

The  Euahlayi  of  New  South  Wales  fumigate  themselves  beside 
the  grave  at  and  after  a  burial.  A  widow  covers  herself  with 
mud  and  sleeps  beside  a  smouldering  fire  all  night.  Three  days 
afterwards  she  and  her  sisters  (who  might  have  been  her  hus- 
band's wives)  are  chased  down  to  the  creek,  where  a  fire  has 
previously  been  lighted.  She  catches  hold  of  the  smoking 
bush  ;  putting  it  under  her  arm  she  jumps  into  the  creek  with 
it  and  extinguishes  it  in  the  water.  As  it  goes  out,  she  drinks 
some  of  the  smoky  water.  On  emerging  she  is  smoked  at  the 
fire  and  calls  to  her  husband,  who  is  supposed  to  answer  her. 
Not  until  then  is  she  allowed  to  speak ;  the  only  utterances 
permitted  to  her  up  to  that  time  have  been  lamentations.  On 
her  return  to  the  camp  another  fumigation,  apparently  of  the 
entire  population,  is  made,  and  she  continues  to  wear  mourning 
for  many  months  (K.  Langloh  Parker,  Euahlayi  Tribe,  pp. 
86,  88,  93).  Among  the  Northern  Tribes  of  Central  Australia 
the  women  are  released  from  their  ban  of  silence  by  a  cere- 
mony, of  which  the  chief  item  consists  in  their  brushing  them- 
selves all  over  with  burning  twigs  taken  from  a  fire  they  have 
lighted  for  the  purpose  (Spencer-Gillenb,  554).  Yakut  grave- 
diggers,  on  returning  from  the  cemetery,  purify  themselves  at  a 
fire  made  of  chips  of  the  coffin,  before  they  enter  the  yurt 
(RHR  xlvi.  211).  When  a  Bechuana  widower  is  married,  both 
he  and  his  new  bride  must  undergo  an  elaborate  fumigation 
(JAI  xxxv.  307) ;  among  the  Bangala  one  who  touches  a  dead 
body  is  placed  in  a  circle  of  fire  for  purification  (JAI  xxxix. 
114).  The  Mar.ganja  mourners  not  only  bathe,  but  rub  them- 
selves with  *  medicine-water'  (Rattray,  Some  Folk-lore  Stories 


and  Songs  in  Chinyanja,  1907,  p.  94).  The  ancient  Hebrewi 
accounted  every  one  who  touched  a  dead  bodv  or  a  grave, 
or  who  came  into  the  tent  where  a  corpse  lay,  unclean  for 
seven  days ;  and  he  was  excluded  from  the  community  and 
from  all  religious  rites.  He  was  sprinkled  on  the  third 
and  again  on  the  seventh  day  with  the  '  water  of  separation,1 
in  which  were  mingled  the  ashes  of  the  sin-offering.  So 
contagious  was  his  uncleanness  or  tabu  that  it  attached  to 
everything  he  touched,  and  even  to  the  clean  person  who 
sprinkled  him.  Moreover,  the  unclean  man  after  the  sprinkling 
on  the  seventh  day  was  required  to  bathe,  and  both  he  and  the 
clean  person  who  sprinkled  him  had  to  wash  their  clothes  :  nor 
was  either  of  them  reckoned  clean  until  the  evening  (Nu  10*30. 
51).  Among  the  Bontoc  Igorot  of  Luzon  all  who  take  part  in 
the  burial  hurry  to  the  nver  to  wash  (Jenks,  79).  Among  the 
Indians  of  the  Paraguayan  Chaco  they  drink  hot  water  and 
then  bathe  in  hot  water.  The  near  relatives  are  considered 
unclean  for  a  time  and  are  excluded  from  the  village.  Before 
re-entering  it  they  purify  themselves  by  washing  in  hot  water 
and  putting  aside  the  tokens  of  their  mourning  (Grubb,  Among 
the  Indians,  p.  44).  The  Lillooets  of  British  Columbia  hold 
the  funeral  feast  immediately  on  returning  from  the  grave. 
The  members  of  the  household  of  the  deceased  pass  the  next 
four  days  in  fasting,  lamentations,  and  ceremonial  ablutions. 
Their  hair  is  then  cut,  they  are  painted  and  oiled,  the  hair  is 
tied  up,  and  they  hold  a  second  feast  with  more  cheerful 
countenances.  A  young  widower  often  goes  into  the  forest 
alone  for  a  year,  builds  himself  a  sweat-house,  and  drives  the 
'  bad  medicine '  of  his  dead  wife  out  of  his  body  by  repeated 
sweating  or  hot  baths.  A  young  widow  during  the  whole 
period  of  mourning  undergoes  continuous  ceremonial  washings 
or  cleansings,  for  the  double  purpose  of  lengthening  her  own 
life  and  rendering  herself  innocuous  to  her  next  husband,  who 
would  otherwise  be  short-lived  (JAI  xxxv.  137  ff.).  Among 
the  Thompson  Indians  the  widow  or  widower,  immediately 
after  the  death,  goes  out  and  passes  through  a  patch  of  rose 
bushes  four  times.  Among  other  ceremonies,  a  widower  washes 
in  the  creek  and  cleans  himself  with  fresh  fir-twigs  morning  and 
evening  for  a  year.  It  is  significant  that  any  grass  or  branches 
on  which  a  widow  or  widower  sits  or  lies  down  will  wither  up 
(Jesup  Exped.  i.  332,  333). 

The  meaning  of  these  ceremonies  is  probably 
expressed  in  the  belief  of  the  Pima  of  California, 
who  hold  that  ghosts  are  uncanny  things  to  have 
about;  they  are  liable  to  touch  sleeping  persons, 
which  is  a  summons  to  accompany  the  ghost  back 
to  the  shades  {86  BBEW  [1908]  194).  Hence  the 
Lillooet  widow  must  free  herself  from  the  ghost, 
both  for  her  own  sake  and  for  that  of  her  next  hus- 
band. And  the  contagious  character  of  the  death- 
pollution  is  shown  by  the  custom  of  the  Hupa 
which  requires  every  one  who  has  touched  a  corpse 
to  cover  his  head  until  purification,  '  lest  the  world 
be  spoiled'  (Goddard,  Hupa  Texts,  1904,  p.  224 n.). 

In  Europe  similar  beliefs  and  practices  have  pre- 
vailed throughout  historic  times. 

The  ancient  Greeks  put  at  the  door  of  the  death-chamber  a 
veBBel  full  of  pure  water  obtained  from  another  house,  so  that 
all  who  came  out  might  purify  themselves  (Rohde,  Psychet  L 
219).  It  is  still  a  very  wide-spread  custom  on  the  Continent  to 
meet  the  funeral  party,  on  returning  to  the  house,  with  water 
and  towel,  that  all  who  have  taken  part  may  wash  their  hands 
before  entering.  In  Istria  the  water  is  poured  over  a  firebrand 
(Globus,  xcii.  [1907]  88).  In  Central  France,  two  generations 
ago,  the  members  of  the  funeral  party  used  to  hasten  to  the 
nearest  brook  or  pool.  In  some  of  the  villages  so  contagious 
was  the  pollution  held  that,  if  the  funeral  procession  passed 
any  clothes  hanging  out  to  dry,  the  clothes  were  always  washed 
again  (Laisnel  de  la  Salle,  ii.  79,  80).  In  the  Tyrol  all  in- 
habitants of  the  house  are  assembled  and  fumigated  by  the 
house-father  before  the  corpse  leaves  the  house ;  to  be  absent 
from  this  ceremony  is  to  run  the  risk  of  a  speedy  death.  In 
another  district  when  a  dead  body  is  carried  out,  every  one  must 
forthwith  wash  his  clothes,  otherwise  a  second  corpse  will  soon 
be  borne  out  (von  Zingerle,  pp.  49,  60). 

XV.  Funeral  feasts. — A  feast  is  usually  (in  the 
lower  culture  invariably)  a  part  of  the  funeral 
rites.  Frequently,  indeed,  a  feast  is  partaken  of 
in  the  presence  of  the  corpse,  another  (sometimes 
kept  up  for  days,  or  repeated  at  stated  intervals) 
on  the  return  from  the  funeral,  and  a  third  when 
the  rites  are  closed  by  the  second  funeral,  or 
re-burial  of  the  bones  (§  XXI.),  and  the  mourning 
comes  to  an  end. 

I.  Before  the  funeral. — 

Among  the  Gilbert  Islanders,  when  the  corpse's  toilet  is  com- 
pleted, the  wailing  begins.  In  the  meantime  a  feast  with 
dancing  and  songs  is  prepared  outside  the  hut  where  the 
body  lies ;  and  every  one  in  turn,  after  his  wailing  is  over, 
goes  and  joins  the  feast,  which  lasts  for  three  days  before  the 
interment  takes  place  (Int.  Arch.  ii.  [1889]  42).  In  the  Oauca 
Valley,  Colombia,  the  dried  corpse  was  kept  in  the  house  for 
two  months  before  burial,  and  during  the  whole  of  that  period 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


436 


drinking-bouts,  dirges,  and  singing-contests  took  place  in 
honour  of  the  departed  (Globus,  xc.  305).  The  relatives  and 
friends  of  a  deceased  Araucanian  Bit  round  the  corpse  on  the 
bare  ground  and  weep  for  a  while.  Others,  weeping,  bring  food 
and  drink,  of  which  all  partake  (Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  105). 
At  the  death  of  an  Ainu,  a  large  cup  of  food  or  a  cake  of  millet, 
and  water  or  sake,  are  placed  by  the  head  of  the  corpse  after 
it  has  been  laid  out-  The  corpse  is  addressed  in  a  farewell 
speech,  and  invited  to  partake,  before  he  quite  leaves  the  sur- 
vivors, of  food  and  drink  such  as  he  loved,  'for  this  is  our 
good-bye  feast  made  specially  for  you.'  After  the  food  has 
remained  by  the  corpse  for  some  time,  it  is  taken  and  reverently 
divided  among  the  nearest  relations.  Millet  cakes  and  sake  are 
also  brought  into  the  hut  and  handed  round  to  all  present, 
every  one,  before  drinking,  offering  two  or  three  drops  to  the 
spirit  of  the  dead.  Part  of  the  millet  cake  is  eaten,  and  the 
remainder  buried  in  the  ashes  of  the  hearth,  a  little  piece  by 
each  person.  After  the  burial  these  pieces  are  collected  and 
carried  out  of  the  hut  to  the  domestic  shrine  (Batchelor, 
Ainu  and  their  Folkl.,  Lond.  1901,  p.  656).  Among  the  ancient 
pagan  Prussians  the  body  was  dressed  and  placed  upright  on  a 
bench.  The  nearest  relations  then  sat  down  beside  it,  carous- 
ing with  beer  and  wailing  (FL  xii.  300;  Tetzner,  23).  The 
ceremony  among  the  Maaurs  is  more  elaborate.  A  messenger 
is  sent  through  the  village  to  summon  to  the  burial,  and  the 
company  is  usually  numerous.  On  one  side  of  the  room  where 
the  corpse  lies  is  a  long  table,  the  middle  of  which  is  occupied 
by  the  corpse,  while  all  around  it  are  seats  for  the  men.  The 
women  sit  at  another  long  table  on  the  other  side  of  the  room. 
After  two  tedious  funeral  songs  have  been  sung,  schnapps  and 
curd-cakes  are  served.  The  schnapps  for  the  men  is  served  in 
bottles  with  one  glass,  out  of  which  all  drink  in  turn  ;  for  the 
women  it  is  served  in  a  bowl  with  a  spoon,  and  every  woman 
takes  a  spoonful  or  two  as  the  spoon  and  bowl  pass  down 
the  table.  The  curd-cakes  are  handed  round  in  a  white  apron 
or  a  basket  (Toppen2, 103). 

The  custom  of  eating  and  drinking  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  dead  is  wide-spread  in  Europe  as 
elsewhere ;  further  examples  will  be  adduced 
hereafter. 

2.  After  the  funeral. — A  feast  follows  the  dis- 
posal of  the  body. 

The  Ainu  mourners  return  to  the  hut ;  the  men  make  sacred 
willow  emblems,  called  inao,  pray,  eat,  drink,  and  get  help- 
lessly intoxicated  (Batchelor,  569).  Among  the  Uriya  of  Orissa 
the  feast  occupies  several  days  (Rice,  Occasional  Essays,  Lond. 
1901,  p.  56).  So  the  pagan  Norsemen  feasted  for  three  nights. 
The  Masurs,  whose  ceremony  prior  to  the  burial  has  just 
been  described,  on  returning  find  the  tables  and  benches  so 
arranged  that  men  and  women,  who  had  previously  sat  apart, 
can  sit  together ;  and  the  schnapps  is  mixed  with  honey  and 
served  in  bottles.  Sometimes  it  is  burnt  before  being  mixed, 
and  is  then  called  by  a  special  name.  At  noon  a  meal  of  flesh- 
meat,  fish,  and  groats  thickened  with  honey  is  served.  All  day 
the  men  remain  in  the  house  comforting  the  bereaved,  and 
likewise  comforting  themselves  with  the  remains  of  the  food 
and  with  drink ;  nor  do  they  separate  until  the  evening 
(Toppen2,  104).  In  some  places  the  corpse,  before  removal,  is 
covered  with  a  table-cloth,  and  the  same  table-cloth  is  put  on 
the  table  at  the  subsequent  funeral  meal  (ib.  111).  In  Ille-et- 
Vilaine  neither  wine,  nor  cider,  nor  coffee,  nor  liqueur  appears 
at  the  table ;  the  conversation  is  carried  on  in  a  low  tone  ;  as 
the  guests  finish  they  retire  (A.  Orain,  FL  de  1'IUe-et-Vilaine, 
ii.  [1898]  294).  A  great  contrast  is  afforded  by  the  Frisian 
population  of  the  marshes  on  the  right  bank  of  the  lower  Weser. 
They  hurry  from  the  church  to  the  house,  where  piles  of  cakes, 
long  rows  of  wine-bottlea,  clay  pipes,  plates  of  tobacco,  matches, 
and  cigars  await  the  guests,  and  the  feast  begins.  Hitherto 
stillness  and  whispering  have  reigned  in  the  house.  Now  eating 
and  drinking  know  no  bounds;  soon  the  tobacco-smoke  fills 
the  house,  until  it  is  impossible  to  see  three  paces  ahead ;  all 
tongues  are  loosened ;  chattering  and  jesting,  laughing  and 
drinking,  the  clinking  of  glasses  and  the  general  good  humour 
increase  from  hour  to  hour  (ZVV  ix.  [1899]  65).  In  various 
parts  of  Europe  it  has  been  found  necessary  to  put  a  limit  by 
statute  or  local  regulation  to  the  expenditure  on  the  funeral 
feast  and  the  other  abuses  connected  with  it. 

Among  many  peoples  the  feast  is  held  at,  or 
even  upon,  the  grave. 

The  Ojibwas,  who  deposit  their  dead  on  the  ground  and 
cover  them  with  a  light  roofing  of  poles  and  mats,  as  soon  as 
this  iB  finished,  sit  in  a  circle  at  the  head  of  the  grave  and 
present  an  offering  to  the  dead  of  meat,  soup,  or  'fire-water.' 
This,  except  a  certain  quantity  kept  for  a  burnt-offering,  is 
consumed  by  the  mourners  (P.  Jones,  loc.  cit.).  In  the  Nicobar 
Islands,  the  day  after  the  funeral  a  feast  is  held  at  the  grave 
'  in  the  presence  of  the  dead,'  at  which  the  relatives  and  friends 
bind  themselves,  according  to  their  degree  of  kindred  with  the 
departed,  to  abstain  from  certain  food,  drink,  and  enjoyment 
for  a  longer  or  shorter  period,  the  longest  terminating  with  the 
great  feast  of  the  dead,  when  all  the  ceremonies  are  concluded 
(Int.  Arch.  vi.  25).  The  Gilyaks  burn  their  dead.  When  the 
cremation  has  been  accomplished,  they  sit  round  and  partake 
of  the  flesh  of  dogs,  killed  there  and  then  at  the  burning-place 
to  accompany  the  soul  of  the  deceased.  They  eat  a  portion  of 
it  and  throw  the  rest  about  in  all  directions,  probably  for  the 
deceased,  afterwards  adjourning  to  the  yurl,  where  further 
refreshments   are    provided  (ARW    viii.    473).      The    ancient 


Romans  used  to  offer  to  the  manes  on  the  ninth  day  after  the 
funeral  at  the  grave ;  and  the  meal  was  taken  there.  The 
funeral  meal  is  still,  or  was  quite  lately,  taken  in  the  cemetery 
at  Argentiere  in  the  Department  of  the  Hautes  Alpes,  France  ; 
and  the  cur6  and  the  family  of  the  deceased  sat  at  a  table 
placed  upon  the  grave  itself.  As  soon  as  the  meal  was  over, 
every  one,  led  by  the  next-of-kin,  drank  to  the  health  of  the 
departed  (Laisnel  de  la  Salle,  ii.  81).  The  custom  is  not  merely 
wide-spread ;  it  descends  demonstrably  from  a  great  antiquity. 
Neolithic  graves  are  often  found  containing  remnants  of  a 
feast,  in  the  shape  of  broken  bones  of  animals  and  traces  of 
a  fire. 

As  already  mentioned,  the  feast  following  the 
funeral  is  by  no  means  always  concluded  at  one 
sitting. 

The  ancient  Norse  were,  and  the  Uriyaa  are,  however,  quite 
abstemious  in  this  respect  compared  with  some  other  peoples. 
In  the  Moluccas,  on  the  island  of  Keisar,  the  kinsmen  ordinarily 
feast  for  twenty  days  in  the  house  of  the  dead,  and,  after 
enjoying  all  sorts  of  delicacies,  wind  up  the  solemnity  with 
dog's  flesh.  The  Tanembar  and  Timorlaut  Islanders  enjoy 
from  ten  to  a  hundred  days'  festivities  (Riedel,  421,  306).  The 
Lepers  Islanders  go  on  '  eating  the  death '  for  a  hundred  days 
(Oodrington,  287) ;  while  the  Malagasy  outdo  them  all.  The 
length  and  brilliancy  of  their  feasts  are,  of  course,  proportioned 
to  the  wealth  of  the  deceased.  Rum  flows  without  stint  from 
morning  to  night ;  and  every  one  present  is  more  or  less  plunged 
in  drunkenness.  So  long  as  there  is  anything  to  eat  and  drink 
the  feast  goes  on,  and  nobody  thinks  of  going  away.  The 
funeral  feasts  of  high  and  noble  persons  have  been  known  to 
last  for  months  (Mad.  au  xxe  siecle,  284).  Or,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  feast  may  be  renewed  at  stated  intervals.  The 
ancient  Prussians  held  their  funeral  meals  on  the  third,  sixth, 
ninth,  and  fortieth  days  (Toppen2,  111  n.).  The  Muhammadan 
Malays  feast  on  the  day  of  the  funeral,  and  on  the  third,  seventh, 
and  fourteenth  days  (Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  407).  The  Chinese 
of  Northern  Tongking  feast  every  seven  days  for  a  month  (Lunet, 
89).  On  the  death  of  a  Buriat  shaman  the  funeral  feast  is  held 
at  the  burning-place,  and  repeated  on  the  third  day,  when  Mb 
cremated  bones  are  collected  and  deposited  in  a  hole  hewn  in 
the  trunk  of  a  big  fir,  and  the  rites  are  at  an  end  for  the  time 
(JAI  xxiv.  135).  This  simplicity  may  be  contrasted  with  the 
Fijian  custom,  which  requires  that  wailing  proceed  in  the  house 
for  four  days  after  the  death.  On  the  fourth  day  a  feast 
is  held,  and  it  is  followed  by  others  on  the  tenth,  thirtieth  or 
fortieth  (when  the  tomb  is  dressed),  and  the  hundredth  days 
(Anthropos,  ii.  74).  Among  the  Patagonians  the  wailing  lasts 
for  fifteen  days  after  a  death.  It  is  accompanied  with  feasting 
on  horseflesh  and  drinking-bouts,  and  is  renewed  every  month 
under  the  same  stimulating  influences,  and  closed  at  the  end 
of  a  year  with  a  three  days'  celebration  (Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl. 
103). 

A  feast  is  often  held  at  the  completion  of  the 
funeral  ceremonies  or  of  the  period  of  mourning 
(see  §  XXL). 

3.  Object  of  funeral  feasts. — The  object  of  these 
feasts  is  not  simply  hospitality  to  the  invited 
guests ;  they  indeed  ver^  often  contribute  their 
full  share  in  kind.  Nor  is  the  object  merely  the 
enjoyment  of  those  who  partake,  or  a  natural 
reaction  from  sorrow,  or  ostentation  on  the  part 
of  those  who  provide  them.  Doubtless  some  or 
all  of  these  impulses  do  enter  into  the  motives 
for  the  frequently  repeated  and  usually  extrava- 
gant displays,  and  the  gluttony  and  carousing  in- 
separable from  them.  But  there  are  deeper  reasons 
for  the  observance.  The  above  reasons  would  be 
insufficient  of  themselves  to  account  for  the  prac- 
tice, shared  by  civilized  Europeans  with  savage 
Ainu,  of  holding  the  first  formal  meal  in  the 
presence  of  the  corpse,  or  on  the  grave,  if  they 
would  not  indeed  positively  repel  it.  Moreover, 
the  ceremonial  of  such  a  meal  is  not  always  that 
of  abandonment  to  the  pleasures  of  the  table  and 
of  social  intercourse ;  and,  finally,  the  deceased  is 
himself,  even  after  cremation  or  burial,  regarded 
as  one  of  the  convives.  The  belief  that  the  dead 
man  is  present  and  joins  in  the  feast  is  very  wide- 
spread, and  is  evidenced  in  more  ways  than  one. 

In  the  German  districts  of  Prussia  a  seat  is  left  for  the  dead 
man,  and  food  and  drink  are  placed  for  him.  The  old  Prussians 
used  to  throw  the  food  and  drink  destined  for  him  under  the 
table  (Toppen2,  llln.).  The  Thlinket  of  British  Columbia  are 
divided  into  two  intermarrying  classes,  descendible  exclusively 
through  women.  When  a  man  dies,  his  body  is  carried  out  by 
members  of  his  wife's  class,  and  the  members  of  his  own  class 
give  them  a  feast.  Before  distributing  the  food  the  name  of 
the  dead  is  pronounced,  and  a  little  of  the  food  is  put  into  the 
fire.  By  this  means  he  is  believed  to  receive  it  (26  RBEW 
431 ;  cf.  462).  The  utterance  of  the  name  is  a  call  to  its  ownef 
to  come  and  receive  his  portion.  In  various  Melanefiian  islandB, 
when  the  name  is  pronounced,  the  chief  mourner  with  some 


436 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


of  the  food  in  his  hand  says  expressly,  'This  is  for  you,'  and 
throws  or  puts  it  aside  for  the  deceased  (Codrington,  271, 
282,  284).  Among  the  Chinyai  or  Chinyungwe,  on  the  Zamhesi, 
a  portion  of  the  drink  and  the  blood  of  the  slaughtered 
sheep  are  poured  into  the  grave,  through  a  hole  made  for  the 
purpose  (JAI  xxiii.  421).  The  Veddas  make  an  offering  to 
the  newly  dead,  and  afterwards  consume  it  themselves  (Rep. 
Oxford  Cong.  Hist.  Rel.  i.  62).  On  some  of  the  Moluccas  the 
soul  after  burial  is  believed  to  haunt  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  house.  On  the  fifth  day  a  wooden  image  of  the  deceased  is 
prepared,  the  soul  is  enticed  into  it,  and  a  meal  of  rice,  pork, 
and  chicken  is  presented.  The  mouth  of  the  image  is  daubed 
with  some  of  the  food,  and  the  deceased  is  addressed :  '  Eat, 
drink,  and  watch  over  us,  that  no  sickness  arise.'  After  the 
deceased  has  finished,  the  feast  of  the  survivors  begins,  and 
lasts  all  night  (Riedel,  395).  It  is  not  quite  clear  from  the 
report  whether  they  partake  of  the  identical  food  that  has  been 
placed  before  the  image ;  but  probably  they  do.  The  Gheremiss, 
on  the  fortieth  day,  go  to  the  cemetery  to  invite  the  dead  man 
to  join  the  feast  and  to  bring  him  back.  In  one  district  one  of 
the  convives  impersonates  him  dressed  in  his  best  clothes.  He 
is  seated  in  the  place  of  honour,  and  is  treated  as  the  master ; 
the  widow  of  the  deceased  addresses  him  as  husband,  the 
children  as  father.  All  night  he  eats,  drinks,  and  dances  with 
the  rest.  In  the  intervals  of  the  dances  he  relates  his  life  in 
the  other  world  and  his  pleasure  at  meeting  again  those  who 
have  predeceased  him ;  he  begs  them  not  to  sorrow  on  his 
account— rather  let  them  oftener  repeat  the  feast  of  com- 
memoration (Smirnov,  i.  143).  So,  the  Kols  of  Chota  Nagpur 
provide  a  meal  in  the  dead  man's  house,  to  which  they  summon 
a  man  from  the  Mahali,  a  neighbouring  mongrel  tribe  with 
whom  they  never  otherwise  eat.  He  comes  to  the  banquet, 
and  there  represents  the  deceased.  Until  he  has  done  this,  no 
meal  can  be  eaten  in  the  house.  When  the  meal  is  finished  he 
departs,  and  the  house  is  thenceforward  pure,  and  no  longer 
haunted  by  the  dead  man  (Hahn,  Kolsmission,  84).  There  is 
a  similar  practice  among  some  of  the  North  American  tribes 
(M.  A.  Owen,  Folkl.  of  Musquakie  Indians,  Lond.  1904,  p.  S3). 

The  ritual  character  of  the  meal  is  rendered 
obvious  also  by  the  fact  that  very  often  it  con- 
sists, wholly  or  in  part,  of  a  special  kind  of  food. 
Pulse  was  partaken  of  by  the  Romans,  and  it 
figures  prominently  in  the  funeral  feasts  of  many 
parts  of  modern  Europe.  Cakes  and  biscuits  of 
various  kinds  are  also  used,  from  Wales  to  the 
Volga  and  the  Greek  islands.  It  is  probable  that 
this  ritual  food  represents  the  flesh  of  the  corpse, 
and  is  a  long-descended  relic  of  funeral  cannibal- 
ism. The  Abbe  Dubois,  describing  the  ceremonies 
attending  the  cremation  of  the  king  of  Tanjore, 
who  died  in  1801,  and  two  of  his  wives,  informs 
us  that  some  of  the  bones  which  had  escaped  com- 
plete destruction  were  ground  to  powder,  mixed 
with  boiled  rice,  and  eaten  by  twelve  Brahmans. 
The  object  of  this  rite  was  the  expiation  of  the 
sins  of  the  deceased  ;  for  these  sins,  according  to 
popular  opinion,  were  transmitted  into  the  bodies 
of  those  who  ate  the  ashes  (Dubois-Beauchamp, 
366).  This  is  precisely  parallel  to  the  old  Welsh 
custom  of  *  sin-eating,'  whereby,  when  the  corpse 
was  brought  out  of  the  house  and  laid  on  the  bier, 
a  man  was  found  whose  profession  it  was  to  per- 
form the  ceremony.  A  loaf  of  bread  was  handed 
to  him  over  the  corpse  before  the  funeral  procession 
started,  and  a  mazar-bowl  full  of  beer  with  a  piece 
of  money  (in  John  Aubrey's  time  sixpence),  *  in 
consideration  whereof  he  tooke  upon  him  (ipso 
facto)  all  the  Sinnes  of  the  Defunct,  and  freed 
him  (or  her)  from  walking  after  they  were  deaaV 
(Aubrey,  Remaines,  ed.  1881,  p.  35).  In  the  Bavarian 
Highlands  a  different  interpretation  was  put  upon 
a  similar  practice.  Formerly,  when  the  corpse  had 
been  laid  on  the  bier  and  the  room  carefully  washed 
and  cleaned,  the  housewife  prepared  the  Leichen- 
nudeln,  or  corpse  -  cakes.  Having  kneaded  the 
dough,  she  placed  it  to  rise  on  the  dead  body 
before  baking.  Cakes  so  prepared  were  believed 
to  contain  the  virtues  and  advantages  of  the  de- 
parted, and  to  transmit  to  the  kinsmen  who  con- 
sumed them  his  living  strength,  which  thus  was 
retained  within  the  kin  (Am  Urquell,  ii.  101). 
Perhaps  we  may  interpret  in  the  same  way  an 
obscure  rite  at  the  funeral  feast  of  the  Man  C6c 
in  Tongking.  Before  the  meal  begins,  the  priest 
presents  to  all  the  relatives  in  turn  a  piece  of 
flesh  to  be  smelt.     At  the  meal  each  of  the  guests 


receives  a  piece  of  flesh,  and  the  priest  is  paid  with 
a  leg  of  pork  (Lunet,  245). 

Similarly,  in  a  MS  of  the  18th  cent.,  preserved  in  the  British 
Museum,  it  is  related  of  the  tribes  about  Delagoa  Bay  that  they 
*  generally  kill  some  beast  in  proportion  to  the  ability  of  the 
deceased,  and,  digging  a  round  hole,  they  lay  the  deceased  at 
his  full  length ;  when,  opening  the  beast,  they  take  out  the 
paunch  yet  reeking,  and  lay  it  upon  the  face  of  the  deceased, 
and,  after  dancing  round  the  corpse,  tear  this  paunch  to  pieces 
and  tumultuously  eat  it.  This  done,  they  bend  the  corpse  round 
while  warm  and  lay  him  in  the  hole,  casting  in  some  part  of 
the  guts  [of  the  slaughtered  beast],  and  closing  the  hole  up ; 
ending  this  odd  funeral  with  dancing'  (Rec.  S.E,  Africa,  ii. 
[1898]  460). 

Ritual  food  with  another  meaning  is  found 
among  the  Baganda,  where  fowls  are,  as  a  rule, 
tabu  to  women.  The  reason  they  assign  for  this 
tabu  is  that  death  came  into  the  world  by  the 
disobedience  of  a  woman,  who  insisted  on  re- 
turning to  heaven  for  food  for  a  fowl  (see  §  II.). 
But  at  the  death  of  a  man  a  fowl  is  cooked,  and 
each  of  his  widows  eats  of  it  prior  to  the  distribu- 
tion of  his  widows  and  effects  (JAI  xxxii.  48). 

The  distribution  of  articles  of  food  to  persons, 
whether  relatives,  friends,  or  the  poor,  who  do  not 
share  in  a  formal  meal  is  an  extension  of  the 
feast. 

In  Sardinia,  on  the  seventh  or  ninth  day  after  death  savoury 
cakes  are  prepared  and  sent  hot  from  the  oven  to  all  the  rela- 
tives and  neighbours,  and  to  all  who  have  joined  in  the  funeral 
ceremonies ;  but  the  funeral  supper  is  confined  to  the  im- 
mediate family  (Rivista  Trad.  Pup.  Hal.  i.  [1893]  959).  At 
Gainsborough,  penny  loaves  used  to  be  given  away  at  funerals 
to  all  who  asked  for  them  (Ant.  xxxi.  331).  In  Bulgaria  the 
villagers  ;bring  fruit  for  the  departed,  or  for  the  previously 
dead,  and  it  is  distributed  among  the  children  at  the  funeral 
(Strausz,  446).  Among  the  Uriyas,  on  the  death  of  a  rich  man, 
copper  coins  and  fried  rice  are  scattered  as  the  funeral  pro- 
cession passes  (Eice,  55).  On  the  island  of  Mabuiag'a  heap  of 
food  is  piled  up  close  to  the  platform  on  which  the  body 
lies,  and  afterwards  divided  among  those  present.  Again, 
a  few  days  afterwards,  when  the  skull  has  been  removed 
and  cleaned  and  is  handed  over  to  the  relatives,  another 
quantity  of  food  is  provided  by  the  mourners,  and  distributed 
to  those  who  have  assisted  at  the  funeral.  In  both  cases 
it  seems  to  be  consumed  at  home  (Torres  Sir.  Rep.  v.  250,  251). 

The  money  doles  given  to  the  poor  in  our  own 
country  are  probably  a  commutation  of  the  dis- 
tribution of  food  (see  Brand  and  Ellis,  ii.  192). 
The  analogous  customs  in  India  and  elsewhere 
may  be  set  down  to  the  same  cause.  Doubtless, 
however,  all  have  been  affected  by  ecclesiastical 
influences.  The  fact  that  the  gifts  frequently 
include  lavish  doles  and  entertainments  to  ecclesi- 
astics, both  in  Europe  and  in  Asia,  is  evidence  very 
difficult  to  gainsay. 

Often  the  feast  is  merely  a  farewell  banquet — a 
send-off  of  one  who  is  unwilling  to  go — at  the 
termination  of  which  the  deceased  is  formally  but 
firmly  shown  the  door. 

Thus  about  Konigsberg,  in  Prussia,  a  place  is  set  for  the  dead 
man  at  the  feast,  in  order  that  he  may  share  it ;  and,  when  it  is 
over,  the  bearers  open  all  doors,  that  the  ghost  may  depart 
(Am  Urquell,  ii.  80).  The  ancient  Prussians  used  to  drive 
the  ghost  out,  saying:  *Be  off  I  you  have  eaten  and  druok* 
(Tetzner,  23).  Among  some  of  the  Brazilian  tribes,  at  the 
end  of  the  feast,  the  widow,  accompanied  by  the  other  women, 
and  weeping,  used  ceremoniously  to  thank  the  men  for  their 
presence  and  help,  and  in  the  name  of  the  deceased  to  call 
for  a  parting  drink,  that  he  might  forthwith  enter  on  hia 
journey ;  for  he  could  not  set  out  while  his  friends  tarried 
with  him  (Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  112).  The  Tarahumares  of 
Mexico  hold  three  feasts  for  a  man,  but  four  for  a  woman 
(see  §  XVIII.).  These  begin  within  a  fortnight  after  the  death 
and  are  increasingly  elaborate,  each  lasting  a  day  and  a  night. 
All  the  mourners  talk  to  the  departed.  He  is  told  to  take  away 
all  they  have  given  him,  and  not  to  come  and  disturb  the 
survivors.  The  second  feast  is  given  half  a  year  after  the  first, 
the  third  and  largest  later  still.  The  sacred  cactus,  hikuli,  is 
thought  to  be  very  powerful  in  chasing  away  the  dead,  driving 
them  to  the  end  of  the  world,  where  they  join  the  other 
departed.  Hence  it  is  steeped  in  water  and  the  water  sprinkled 
over  the  people  ;  and  Aifcu/i-dancing  and  singing  always  play  a 
prominent  part  in  all  festivities.  At  these  feasts  for  the  dead 
other  dances  also  take  place  ;  tesvino,  the  national  stimulant,  is 
drunk ;  and  the  survivors  drink  with  the  dead.  At  the  third 
feast  a  large  earthen  bowl  full  of  water  is  the  subject  of  a 
ceremony  by  the  shaman,  at  which  he  finally  lifts  it  up  and 
throws  it  in  the  air.  It  falls  shattered  to  pieces,  and  the  people 
dance  and  trample  on  the  fragments.  The  function  concludes 
with  races  by  the  young  people.  '  The  men  have  their  ball,  and 
as  they  run  they  scatter  ashes  to  the  four  cardinal  points  to 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


437 


cover  the  tracks  of  the  dead.  They  return  rejoicing,  manifest- 
ing their  delight  by  tin-owing  up  their  blankets,  tunics,  and 
hats,  because  now  the  dead  is  at  last  chased  off.'  Not  until 
after  the  last  function  will  a  widower  or  a  widow  marry  again, 
'being  more  afraid  of  the  de;id  than  are  other  relatives' 
(Lumholtz,  Wnknoum  Mexico,  i.  3S4  ff.). 

Elsewhere  the  motive  is  stated  to  be  the  rest 
or  the  happiness  of  the  deceased — often,  however, 
with  somewhat  more  than  a  hint  at  the  benefit  of 
the  survivors. 

Thus,  among  the  Bulgarians  of  Hungary,  before  the  burial 
a  meal  takes  place,  at  which  every  one  receives  a  loaf  of  bread 
and  a  taper  wound  with  a  cloth.  The  tapers  are  kindled  in  the 
house,  and  then  extinguished.  The  bread  is  then  eaten,  and  it 
is  believed  that  the  soul  is  now  saved.  In  a  room  adjoining  that 
where  the  corpse  is  being  waked  another  meal  goes  forward, 
'  for  the  well-being  of  those  who  are  left  behind  and  that  he  may 
slumber  for  ever '  (Globus,  xc.  140).  The  Igorot  dead  in  Luzon 
is  admonished  not  to  come  and  make  the  survivors  sick,  but  to 
protect  them  from  other  anito  (manes) ;  he  is  reminded  that, 
when  they  make  a  feast  and  invite  him,  they  want  him  to  come, 
but  that,  if  another  anito  kills  off  all  his  relatives,  there  will  be 
no  more  houses  for  him  to  enter  for  feasts.  The  Igorot  are 
very  fond  of  feasts  ;  it  is  assumed  that  death  makes  no  difference 
in  this  respect :  consequently  this  last  argument  is  considered 
very  weighty  (Jenks,  79).  Among  the  Yakuts  the  horses  or 
cattle  killed  for  the  feast  are  ridden  or  driven  by  the  dead  to 
the  other  world,  and  so  add  to  his  comfort  or  his  state  (RHR 
xlvi.  208).  The  Barotse  take  the  same  view.  They  no  longer 
kill  slaves,  but  they  kill  and  eat  the  oxen,  which  will  secure 
to  the  dead  a  favourable  reception  at  the  hands  of  his  ancestors 
(Beguin,  Les  Ma-Rotse,  116).  So,  again,  the  Melanesian  popu- 
lation of  Aurora  think  that,  if  they  do  not  kill  many  pigs,  'the 
dead  man  has  no  proper  existence,  but  hangs  on  tangled 
creepers,  and  to  hang  on  creepers  they  think  a  miserable 
thing.  That  is  the  real  reason  why  they  kill  pigs  for  a  man 
who  has  died ;  there  is  no  other  reason  for  it  but  that.'  The 
deceased  and  the  ghosts  of  others  who  have  previously  died 
are  believed  to  come  back  to  earth  to  attend  his  funeral  feast 
(Codrington,  282,  quoting  a  native  account).  In  Angola  it  is 
held  that  the  condition  of  the  dead  in  the  other  world  will 
depend  upon  the  amount  of  food  and  drink  consumed  in  their 
Unnbi,  or  mourning,  which  lasts  from  one  to  four  weeks  ;  and 
during  that  period  wailings  alternate  with  feasting  and  merry- 
making (JAFL  ix.  16).  The  same  idea  may  perhaps  underlie 
the  pathetic  Silesian  custom  of  adorning  the  house  with  gar- 
lands and  green  houghs  at  the  funeral  of  an  unmarried,  especi- 
ally of  a  betrothed,  person,  and  of  rendering  the  funeral  meal 
a  complete  marriage-feast,  to  which  others  than  the  immediate 
relatives,  mourners,  and  bearers  are  invited  (ZVV  iii.  152). 
Sometimes  a  more  direct  spiritual  and  unselfish  motive  is 
expressed.  In  Bulgaria  at  the  meal  taken  before  the  funeral, 
every  one,  before  drinking,  pours  a  few  drops  of  wine  on  the 
ground  before  the  corpse  and  6ays :  '  God  forgive  the  sins 
of  N.N.'  After  the  burial  the  priest  incenses  the  room,  and 
then  takes  his  place  at  the  top  of  the  table,  saying:  'God 
forgive  N.N.'  During  the  meal,  as  the  guests  sit  round  the 
table,  he  from  time  to  time  says:  'Eat  and  drink  and  say 
"God  forgive  N.N."';  and  the  guests  accordingly  respond  in 
chorus  (Strausz,  450,  451).  So,  in  the  Lebanon,  among  the 
Christian  population,  a  ritual  food  of  boiled  wheat,  flavoured 
with  spices,  almonds,  hazel-nuts,  walnuts,  or  pine-seed,  is 
distributed  among  the  relatives,  and  especially  to  priests,  often 
at  the  exitdoor  of  the  church.  As  they  take  it  in  passing,  they 
say:  'May  God  bless  him  for  whom  we  eat  this  now.'  The 
same  formula  is  used  when  it  is  eaten  in  the  house  of  mourning 
(FL  ix.  8). 

XVI.  Funeral  games  and  dances. — Funeral 
games,  familiar  to  us  in  classic  literature,  are  of 
very  wide  distribution.  They  cannot  be  separated 
from  dances,  for  there  is  no  hard  and  fast  line  be- 
tween the  two.  Many  dances  are  mimic  contests, 
and  the  ceremonies  are  by  some  observers  reported 
as  dances  and  by  others  as  games.  Whether  dances 
or  games,  however,  it  would  appear  that  the  object 
is  the  same,  viz.  to  drive  away  either  the  dead  or  the 
evil  spirits  to  whose  influence  death  is  due,  and  to 
free  the  living  from  the  resulting  fear — a  purpose 
which  in  process  of  decay  first  becomes  divination 
as  to  the  state  of  the  deceased,  and  then  is 
explained  more  simply  as  for  the  mere  amusement 
of  the  deceased  or  the  survivors.  Naturally  this 
object  is  not  clear  in  every  reported  instance. 
Insufficient  attention  on  the  part  of  the  reporter  is 
sometimes  the  reason  for  this ;  but  perhaps  quite 
as  often  the  decay  of  the  ceremonies  themselves, 
and  the  loss  by  those  who  practise  them  of  their 
real  meaning,  are  as  much  to  blame. 

Among  the  Bongo  of  the  Egyptian  Sudan  a 
large  heap  of  stones  is  erected  over  a  grave,  and 
upon  it  a  number  of  votive  poles  are  erected, 
adorned  with   notches  and   incisions,   with    their 


forked  tops  made  to  resemble  horns.  The  mean- 
ing of  these  poles  or  stakes  is  said  to  have  passed 
from  the  memory  of  the  inhabitants  ;  at  all  events 
Schweinfurth  (Heart  of  Africa,  Lond.  1874,  i.  304), 
during  his  twelve  months'  stay  in  the  country,  failed 
to  obtain  any  information  on  the  subject.  How- 
ever, there  is  no  doubt  as  to  what  is  done.  The 
entire  village  takes  part  in  the  digging  of  the  grave, 
in  covering  it,  and  in  planting  the  votive  poles ; 
and,  when  this  is  finished,  they  all  equally  shoot 
at  the  poles  with  arrows,  which  are  left  where  they 
strike.  The  Yanadis  of  Southern  India  perform,  on 
the  sixteenth  or  some  later  day  after  death,  a  cere- 
mony called  peddadinamu.  A  handful  of  clay  is 
squeezed  into  a  conical  mass  representing  the  soul 
of  the  deceased,  and  stuck  up  on  a  platform,  where 
the  eldest  son  spreads  cooked  rice  before  it,  lights 
a  lamp,  and  burns  incense.  It  is  then  taken  with 
the  rest  of  the  cooked  rice  to  a  tank.  There  the 
recumbent  effigy  of  a  man  is  made  close  to  the 
water  with  the  feet  to  the  north.  This  effigy  is 
anointed  with  shikai  (fruit  of  the  Acacia  concinna) 
and  red  powder.  The  conical  image  is  set  up  at 
its  head  ;  the  rice,  made  into  four  balls,  is  placed 
near  its  hands  and  feet,  together  with  betel  and 
money,  and  the  son  salutes  it.  The  agnates  then 
seat  themselves  in  a  row  between  the  effigy  and 
the  water,  with  their  hands  behind  their  backs  so 
as  to  reach  it.  In  this  way  they  slowly  move  it 
towards  the  water,  into  which  it  finally  falls  and 
becomes  disintegrated  (Thurston,  vii.  428).  These 
two  customs  of  widely  differing  peoples  are  mani- 
festly directed  against  the  deceased. 

A  Sioux  practice  known  as  the  '  ghost-gamble  ' 
presents  the  deceased  as  engaged  in  the  contest. 
His  effects  are  divided  into  many  small  piles.  A 
man  is  selected  to  represent  the  ghost,  and  he  plays 
for  these  piles  of  goods  against  all  the  other  players. 
The  playing  is  with  wild  plum-stones,  which  are 
marked  like  dice.  When  the  deceased  is  a  man, 
only  men  play  ;  when  a  woman,  only  women  play 
(1  RBEW  195).  Of  the  real  meaning  of  a  con- 
test of  this  kind  we  get  a  glimpse  in  the  custom 
of  the  Bulgarians  of  Hungary,  who  while  away 
the  tedious  hours  of  the  wake  with  games,  among 
others  with  card-playing  to  divine  whether  the 
soul  of  the  departed  is  saved  or  not.  At  an  earlier 
stage  it  probably  did  not  merely  divine,  but 
determined,  the  fate  of  the  soul,  or  its  relations 
with  the  survivors  (Globus,  xc.  140).  In  the  soutli 
of  Ireland,  formerly,  on  a  similar  occasion  songs 
and  stories,  blindman's  buff,  hunt  the  slipper,  and 
dancing  were  among  the  amusements.  We  are 
told  also  that  '  four  or  five  young  men  will  some- 
times, for  the  diversion  of  the  party,  blacken 
their  faces  and  go  through  a  regular  series  of 
gestures  with  sticks,  not  unlike  those  of  the  English 
morris-dancers.'  This  disguise  and  these  evolutions 
in  the  presence  or  immediate  neighbourhood  of  the 
corpse,  there  can  be  little  doubt,  were  more  than 
mere  diversion.  Comparison  with  other  customs 
suggests  that  the  players  represented  supernatural 
personages — ghosts  or  devils  (Croker,  Jiesearchex, 
170). 

This  is  certainly  the  case  with  savage  dances  in 
which  masked  and  disguised  figures  appear.  The 
assumption  of  the  disguise  is,  according  to  the 
almost  universal  view  of  savage  peoples,  enough  to 
cause  the  performer  not  merely  to  represent,  but 
actually  to  be  for  the  time,  the  supernatural  being 
represented  ;  and  the  appearance  of  such  figures  i;- 
quite  common  at  death-dances. 

Thus  in  the  western  islands  of  Torres  Straits  the  perrormer> 
personify  the  ghosts  of  persons  recently  dead,  and  they  mimic 
in  the  dunce  the  characteristic  gait  and  actions  of  the  persons 
so  personified.  'The  idea,'  writes  Haddon,  '  evidently  was  to 
convey  to  the  mourners  the  assurance  that  the  ghost  was  alive 
and  that  in  the  person  of  the  dancer  he  visited  his  friends  ;  the 
aHMtirnnce  of  bis  life  after  death  comforted  the  bereaved  ones' 


438 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  J?HE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


(Torres  Str.  Rep.  v.  256).  In  conformity,  probably,  with  this 
object,  a  buffoon  is  provided,  also  disguised,  whose  antics  as 
he  follows  the  other  performers  are  provocative  of  mirth.  But 
the  object  is  not  the  same  in  all  savage  death-dances.  Among 
the  Bataks  the  dance  seems  to  be  performed  by  the  guru  alone. 
The  guru  in  such  cases  is  a  woman  ;  it  is  her  business  to  pro- 
tect the  living  against  ghosts.  She  dances  both  before  and 
after  the  burial.  As  the  grave  is  filled  in,  she  lays  about  her 
with  a  stick,  not,  however,  to  drive  away  the  ghost,  but  the 
souls  of  living  persons — obviously  to  prevent  their  getting  into 
the  grave,  or  into  the  undesirable  society  of  the  dead  (ARW 
vii.  603). 

Among  the  Beni  Amer  of  Abyssinia,  in  spite  of  Islam,  women 
occupy  a  privileged  and  almost  a  sacred  position.  It  is  the 
women  who  perform  the  funeral-dance ;  and  one  of  the  sisters 
of  the  deceased,  having  dressed  her  hair  in  masculine  fashion, 
parades  with  his  sword  and  shield  while  his  praise  is  sung 
(llunzinger,  327).  The  sex  of  the  performers  renders  it  probable 
that  the  object  of  the  dance  is  prophylactic,  and  the  appearance 
of  a  personification  of  the  deceased  is  intended  to  do  more  than 
giveassurance  totherelativesof  his  continued  life  :  it  is  to  mollify 
him  by  singing  his  praise,  so  that  he  may  do  no  harm  to  the 
survivors.  So  to  ward  off  evil  influences  (probably  to  drive 
away  the  ghost)  is  the  object  of  the  dance  practised  by  the 
Damaras  and  performed  backward  and  forward  over  the  grave 
(Kidd,  Ess.  Kafir,  251).  On  the  burial  of  a  chief  among  the 
Ibouzo  on  the  Niger  the  last  ceremony  is  called  i  kwa  ota, 
'  bending  the  bow.'  The  young  men,  clad  in  short  drawers  and 
wearing  caps  of  monkey-skin,  scour  the  town,  brandishing 
shields  and  cutlasses,  as  if  they  were  starting  on  a  warlike 
expedition.  With  an  urgent  air  and  panting  as  they  go  they 
utter  a  ferocious  chant.  Advancing  in  serried  ranks  they 
brandish  the  cutlasses  over  one  another's  heads,  and  the  clash 
of  the  weapons  is  heard  from  afar.  From  time  to  time  they 
strike  their  shields  and  leap  to  right  and  left  as  they  chase  the 
evil  spirits  before  them  (Anthropos,  ii.  105). 

But  there  is  another  kind  of  dance  sometimes 
performed  on  these  occasions,  of  which  we  have 
had  a  glimpse  in  some  of  the  foregoing — the  comic 
or  burlesque. 

Among  the  Indians  of  the  Paraguayan  Chaco  a  woman  who 
has  lost  a  child  joins  in  a  procession  in  circuit  round  a  fire  made 
outside  the  house.  Young  men  appear  dressed  up  as  dragon- 
flies,  and  '  flit  to  and  fro,  provoking  laughter  by  their  antics  and 
the  capital  imitation  of  the  insect  they  present'  (Grubb,  45). 
We  are  not  told  here  the  nature  of  the  pranks  played ;  but  in 
many  cases  they  are  certainly  of  a  priapic  and  what  we  should 
call  obscene  character.  The  description  of  the  funeral  of  a  king 
of  Loango  in  the  ninth  decade  of  the  18th  century  reports 
performances  of  this  kind  carried  out  by  players  who  were  clad 
in  feathers  and  masked  with  the  heads  of  spoonbills.  Similar 
dances  are  performed  on  the  island  of  Yap  on  various  (not 
necessarily  funeral)  occasions,  especially  on  the  death  of  a  young 
girl  (Globus,  lxxxvi.  [1904]  361);  and  in  the  Aaru  Archipelago 
they  are  presented  at  the  termination  of  the  mourning,  as 
an  intimation  to  the  widow  that  she  is  now  at  liberty  to 
marry  again,  and  as  an  incitement  to  her  to  do  so  (Riedel,  268). 

It  was  such  a  dance  as  this  that  was  imputed  by 
legend  to  Baubo  when  Demeter  was  plunged  in 
grief  for  the  loss  of  Kore  ;  and  we  may  conjecture 
that  it  was  an  archaic  Greek  funeral  rite.  Its 
meaning  probably  was  to  drive  away  death,  evil 
spirits,  and  mourning  by  the  exhibition  of  the 
instruments  of  life,  which  are  widely  used  as 
amulets,  and  of  the  process  of  reproduction.  It 
was  not  that  these  called  up  pleasurable  thoughts 
and  memories,  and  thus  operated  to  banish  the 
unpleasant  and  sorrowful  thoughts.  They  had  a 
magical  force  of  their  own  that  conquered  death  and 
evil.  But  the  burlesque  nature  of  the  dance,  if  not 
obvious  from  its  inception,  must  have  tended  to 
grow,  because  it  was  meant  to  relieve  sorrow  as  well 
as  to  expel  death.  Any  burlesque,  therefore,  that 
produced  laughter  would  be  dragged  in  to  assist, 
with  the  natural  result  that  among  many  peoples 
the  priapic  ceremonies  were  gradually  forgotten 
and  entirely  superseded  by  merely  comic  antics,  or 
ceased  at  any  rate  to  play  more  than  a  subordinate 
part  in  funeral  ceremonies. 

XVII.  Mourning. — Reference  has  already  been 
frequently  made  to  the  state  of  tabu  induced  by 
the  occurrence  of  a  death.  It  remains  to  consider 
a  little  more  closely  the  effect  upon  survivors  con- 
nected with  the  deceased  by  neighbourhood  or 
kinship. 

The  whole  village  or  settlement  is  in  the  lower 
culture  often  attainted  by  the  occurrence  of  a 
death.  The  rule  among  the  Kaffirs  of  South 
Africa  has  already  (§  VI.  9)  been  mentioned,  and 


it  may  stand  as  a  type  of  many  others.  But  it  ia 
more  particularly  the  near  relatives  and  those  who 
have  been  brought  into  contact  with  the  corpse 
who  are  affected  by  the  death-pollution,  most  of 
all  the  widow  or  widower.  Moreover,  the  period 
of  mourning,  and  therefore  of  tabu,  varies  among 
different  peoples,  and  according  to  the  relationship 
of  the  mourners  to  the  deceased,  or  his  rank,  from 
a  few  days  to  many  months  and  even  years. 

1.  Practices. — 

On  Teste  Island,  off  the  coast  of  New  Guinea,  death  lays  the 
whole  settlement  under  tabu.  Dancing  is  forbidden,  and  no 
traveller  may  enter.  A  circuitous  path  must  be  taken  through 
the  surrounding  bush  in  silence  (Chalmers,  41).  Among  the 
Manganja,  on  the  occurrence  of  a  death,  strict  continence  is 
required  of  the  chief  mourners  and  the  elders  of  the  village 
(Rattray,  95).  On  the  island  of  Aurora  the  wives  and  parents 
of  the  deceased  abstain  from  going  out  as  usual  for  a  hundred 
days.  The  restriction  is  particularly  severe  on  female  mourners, 
who  are  forbidden  to  go  into  the  open  ;  their  faces  may  not  be 
seen  ;  they  stay  indoors  and  in  the  dark,  and  cover  themselves 
with  a  large  mat  reaching  to  the  ground.  The  widow,  how- 
ever, goes  out  thus  covered  morning  and  evening  to  weep  at 
the  grave.  All  who  are  in  mourning  refrain  from  certain  food  ; 
the  immediate  relatives  may  not  eat  any  cultivated  food.  They 
are  restricted  to  gigantic  caladium,  bread-fruit,  coco-nuts, 
mallow,  and  other  things  which  must  be  sought  in  the  bush 
where  they  grow  wild.  A  cord  is  worn  round  the  neck  to 
indicate  mourning  and  abstinence  from  'good  food'  (Codring- 
ton,  281).  In  the  Nicobar  Islands  the  mourning  begins  from 
the  feast  at  the  grave  'in  the  presence  of  the  dead.'  Two 
degrees  of  mourning  are  distinguished :  the  lighter,  in  which 
all  relations  and  friends  abstain  until  the  torch-feast,  three 
months  later,  from  singing,  gambling,  dancing,  adornment  of 
the  person,  and  in  the  house  of  mourning  from  certain  food ; 
and  the  deeper,  which  concerns  the  immediate  relations 
(especially  the  husband  or  wife),  and  extends  over  a  longer 
period  until  the  great  feast  of  the  dead,  and  in  which,  in  addi- 
tion to  avoiding  the  enjoyments  just  mentioned,  they  must 
abstain  from  certain  foods,  from  smoking  and  betehchewing 
(Int.  Arch.  vi.  25).  The  ancient  Hurons  likewise  observed  two 
degrees  of  mourning  :  the  greater  lasted  for  ten  days.  During 
that  time  the  mourners  remained  lying  on  their  mats  with  their 
faces  to  the  earth  without  speaking,  and  replying  with  no  more 
than  a  simple  exclamation  to  those  who  came  to  visit  them 
They  went  out  only  at  night  for  necessary  purposes ;  they  did 
not  warm  themselves  in  the  winter,  or  eat  warm  food.  A  lock 
was  cut  from  the  back  of  the  head  as  a  sign  of  the  deepest 
sorrow.  The  lesser  mourning  lasted  all  the  year.  Visiting  was 
permitted  during  this  period,  but  no  salutations,  nor  the  greas- 
ing of  the  hair.  But  women,  although  they  might  neither  do 
these  things  nor  go  to  a  feast,  might  order  their  daughters 
to  do  either.  Neither  wife  nor  husband  married  again  during 
the  year,  'else  they  would  cause  themselves  to  be  talked 
about  in  the  country'  (5  RBEW  111,  translating  Jesuit  Re  I.). 
Among  the  Arawaks  of  South  America  the  nearest  relations  of 
the  deceased  cut  his  widows'  hair  short,  and  the  widows  laid 
aside  their  clothing.  Some  months  later  a  drinking-feast  was 
held,  at  which  all  the  men  of  the  village  assembled  and 
scourged  one  another  with  whips  made  of  the  fibres  of  a 
climbing  plant,  until  the  blood  ran  in  streams,  and  strips  of 
skin  and  muscle  hung  down.  Those  who  participated  often 
died  of  their  wounds  (Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  77,  71).  Among 
the  Charruas  the  widow  and  the  married  daughters  and  sisters 
of  a  man  each  cut  a  finger-joint  off  and  inflict  other  wounds 
on  themselves.  They  also  remain  shut  up  alone  in  their  dwell- 
ings for  two  full  months,  fasting  and  lamenting.  The  husband, 
on  the  other  hand,  does  not  mourn  for  his  wife,  nor  the  father 
for  his  child.  Grown-up  sons,  however,  remain  for  two  days 
entirely  naked  in  their  huts,  and  almost  without  food.  Then, 
having  suffered  the  infliction  of  certain  painful  wounds  on  the 
arm,  the  mourner  goes  forth  quite  naked  into  the  wilderness, 
where  he  rests  all  night  up  to  the  breast  in  a  hole  previously 
dug  in  the  earth,  over  which  he  builds  himself  a  little  hut,  and 
stays  there  for  two  days  without  eating  or  drinking.  On  the 
third  day  his  friends  bring  him  food  and  lay  it  down,  hastening 
away  without  speaking  a  word.  It  is  only  after  the  expiration 
of  ten  or  twelve  days  that  he  may  return  to  the  village  (Int. 
Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  72). 

In  South  America,  as  in  many  other  places,  the  women  especi- 
ally were  made  to  bear  the  weight  of  the  mourning  observances. 
In  Guiana,  mourners  laid  aside  all  clothing  and  adornments 
(among  some  tribes  even  the  women  went  stark  naked) 
and  retired  into  solitude.  The  women  in  particular  concealed 
themselves,  and  ventured  out  only  early  in  the  morning  and 
late  in  the  evening  to  weep  at  the  grave.  Among  the  Mbayas 
and  Guaycurii  the  women  and  slaves  were  forbidden  to  speak 
for  three  or  four  months.  Among  the  former  they  were  allowed 
only  a  vegetable  diet ;  among  the  latter  general  fasting  and 
abstinence  were  the  rule  on  the  death  of  a  chief  (ib.  73,  75,  76). 
The  Warramunga  women  in  Central  Australia  fight  with  one 
another  and  cut  one  another's  scalps ;  and  all  who  stand  in 
any  near  relation  to  the  deceased,  reckoned  according  to  the 
classificatory  system,  cut  their  own  scalps  open  with  yam- 
sticks  besides,  the  actual  widows  even  searing  the  wound  with 
a  red-hot  fire-Btick.  A  strict  ban  of  silence  is  also  imposed  on 
women  who  reokon  as  wives,  mothers,  sisters,  daughters,  cr 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


439 


mothera-in-law  of  the  deceased.  They  are  not  released  from 
this  ban  until  the  final  mourning  ceremonies  have  been  com- 
pletely enacted— a  period  which  may  cover  one  or  even  two 
years'(Spencer-Gillent>,  521,  626).  Among  the  Ewhe  of  Togo- 
land  the  mourning  lasts  for  six  months,  that  being  the  time 
taken  by  the  deceased  to  reach  the  kingdom  of  the  dead,  He 
is  buried  beneath  the  hut ;  and  for  the  first  six  weeks  of  mourn- 
ing a  widow  must  remain  in  the  same  hut  concealed,  only 
leaving  it  to  bathe  and  for  other  absolutely  necessary  purposes. 
When  she  goes  out  she  goes  entirely  naked,  with  bowed  head, 
eyes  bent  down,  and  arms  crossed  over  her  breast,  '  that  no 
mischief  may  befall  her  from  the  dead  man.'  In  fact,  she 
has  nothing  so  much  to  fear  as  the  deceased.  She  carries  a 
club  to  drive  him  away,  for  he  maj'  wish  to  renew  marital 
relations  with  her,  and  that  would  be  death.  For  greater 
security  she  sleeps  upon  the  club.  She  must  not  answer  any 
call.  Beans,  flesh,  fish,  palm-wine,  and  rum  are  forbidden  to  her ; 
and  the  food  and  drink  that  she  is  allowed  must  be  sprinkled 
with  ashes,  to  prevent  her  deceased  husband  from  sharing  the 
meal,  in  which  case  she  would  die.  By  way  of  further  pro- 
tection, on  the  charcoal  fire  that  burns  by  night  in  the  hut  she 
strews  a  powder  consisting  of  peppermint-leaves  dried  and 
rubbed  down,  mingled  with  red  pepper.  This  produces  a 
smoke  such  as  the  dead  man  is  naturally  averse  to  encounter- 
ing. A  man  undergoes  similar  seclusion  on  the  death  of  his 
wife,  but  only  for  seven  or  eight  days.  In  Agu6  the  widows 
are  not  let  out  of  the  dead-hut  until  after  six  months ;  and  even 
then  they  must  submit  to  tedious  purification  ceremonies 
before  they  are  quite  free  (Globus,  Ixxii.  22,  lxxxi.  190). 

Among  the  Matse  tribe  of  Ewhe  the  mourning  for  the  oldest 
man  or  woman  in  the  family  lasts  from  five  to  seven  months, 
for  others  one  to  two  months.  The  entire  period  does  not  last 
beyond  a  year,  unless  in  case  of  mourning  by  a  spouse  who 
lived  happily  with  the  deceased,  and  who  may  choose  to  mourn 
for  another  year.  For  a  widow  the  restrictions  are  very  severe. 
She  must  sleep  on  the  mat  on  which  the  deceased  lay  until  his 
burial ;  she  must  remain  in  a  dark  part  of  the  hut ;  instead  of  on 
a  stool  she  must  sit  on  a  stone  ;  the  clothing  must  be  made  of 
similar  stuff  to  that  in  which  the  corpse  was  buried  ;  she  may  not 
put  on  any  other  clothes  at  midday  or  evening  ;  she  may  greet 
nobody  ;  she  may  talk  with  nobody  ;  she  may  not  walk  through 
the  main  street  of  the  village ;  if  she  has  occasion  to  go  to  see 
any  one  she  must  steal  round  by  a  path  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  village  ;  she  must  stay  in  the  hut,  and  is  not  allowed  to 
leave  it  often  ;  when  she  goes  out  she  must  put  a  maize-cob  (?) 
between  her  toes ;  lastly,  if  she  has  things  to  sell  she  must 
not  haggle  over  the  price,  for  if  the  wares  she  has  for  sale 
remain  on  her  hands  it  will  be  unlucky,  and,  when  her  mourn- 
ing comes  to  an  end  and  she  wants  to  sell  anything,  nobody 
will  buy.  It  is  said  that  if  a  widow  omits  to  observe  all  these 
customs  strictly  the  mourning  will  stick  to  her  and  eat  her  up, 
with  the  consequence  that  she  will  go  crazy  and  never  cease 
chattering.  A  prospect  so  terrifying  causes  the  tabus  to  be 
strictly  observed  (Spieth,  754). 

We  have  referred  in  an  earlier  section  (5  VI.  9)  to  the  re- 
strictions on  cultivation,  hunting,  and  other  kinds  of  labour. 

In  Europe,  death  tabus  have  been  and  still  are  practised. 
Among  the  ancient  Romans  the  touching  of  the  corpse  entailed 
pollution,  and  the  near  relatives  and  the  house  itself  were 
deemed  impure,  requiring  ceremonies  of  purification.  In  the 
south  of  Italy  in  modern  times  the  impurity  is  not  such  as  to 
prevent  friends  from  paying  visits  of  condolence,  which  indeed 
they  are  required  by  etiquette  to  do.  But  they  must  be 
received  by  the  mourners  seated  on  the  bare  floor.  No  fire 
can  be  lighted  in  the  house  for  several  days ;  hence  the 
mourners  are  dependent  on  their  friends  for  food.  A  lamp, 
however,  is  kept  alight  in  the  death-chamber,  probably  for 
reasons  already  considered.  The  men  do  not  shave  their 
beards  for  a  month  (Ramage,  Aooks  and  By-ways  of  Italy, 
Liverpool,  1868,  p.  72).  In  Malta  no  fire  used  to  he  lighted  for 
three  days ;  when  dinner  was  kindly  sent  by  some  relative  or 
friend,  the  mourners  ate  it  sitting  cross-legged  on  the  floor :  they 
were  debarred  from  the  ordinary  use  of  the  furniture.  Women 
were  secluded  in  the  house  for  forty  days,  but  men  went  out 
on  the  seventh  day  with  their  faces  unshaven  (Busuttil,  Holi- 
day Customs  in  Malta,  131).  In  ancient  Athens  all  relatives 
who  were  reckoned  within  the  ayxto-reCa  were  affected  by  the 
defilement  of  carrying  out  a  corpse  and  assisting  at  a  funeral ; 
and  after  the  funeral  the  house  could  not  be  entered  save  by 
those  naturally  thus  polluted,  at  any  rate  not  by  any  woman 
(Seebohm,  Gr.  Tribal  Soc,  Lond.  lSOS,  p.  79).  Although  this 
particular  prohibition  does  not  seem  to  be  observed  in  Greece 
now,  there  are  others  pointing  to  the  same  region  of  ideas. 
After  a  death  the  house  is  kept  unswept  for  three  days,  and  it 
is  imperative  that  the  broom  then  used  be  burnt  immediately. 
The  men  allow  the  beard  to  grow ;  and  during  mourning  the 
sweetmeats  usually  brought  in  before  the  coffee  to  entertain 
visitors  are  omitted.  In  Maina  the  men  scratch  their  faces 
with  their  nails,  and  the  women  cut  off  locks  of  hair  to  fling 
into  the  grave.  In  Northern  Greece  the  women  dress  in  white 
and  keep  the  head  uncovered,  with  the  hair  hanging  down 
(Rodd,  126).  In  Bulgaria,  on  returning  from  the  funeral  and 
before  the  funeral  meal  is  set,  the  chips  caused  in  making  the 
cotfin  are  collected  and  burnt,  in  order  to  burn  the  sickness 
remaining  in  the  house — a  ceremony  of  purification.  For  forty 
days  the  men  neither  shave  nor  cut  their  hair ;  the  women 
neither  oil  their  hair  nor  dance  the  Horo  for  a  year.  Before 
the  burial  and  the  day  after  it  no  one  in  the  house  works,  on 
peril  of  having  chapped  hands  (Strausz,  451,  452).  In  various 
parts  of  Germany  nothing  must  be  lent  or  given  out  of  the 
house  before  the  funeral,  and  only  the  most  necessary  work 


must  be  done.  For  some  time  after  the  funeral  there  must  be 
no  washing  in  the  house,  and  the  mourning  clothes  muBt  not 
be  changed  on  a  Sunday  (Wuttke3,  461,  467).  In  the  North 
Riding  of  Yorkshire  the  flre  waB  put  out  at  the  moment  of 
death  and  not  lighted  again  until  the  body  was  carried  forth. 
In  Cleveland,  however,  this  seems  to  have  been  disregarded  in 
favour  of  the  requirement  to  keep  a  fire  lighted  for  purposes 
referred  to  above  (§  X.  6)  (Gutch,  PL  Yorkshire,  1901,  p.  300). 

2.  Garb. — Everywhere  mourning  garb  is  an 
essential  part  of  the  observances.  Primarily  it 
seems  intended  to  distinguish  those  who  are  under 
the  tabu.  For  this  reason  it  is  usually  the  reverse 
of  the  garb  of  ordinary  life.  Peoples  who  wear  their 
hair  long  cut  or  shave  it ;  those  who  habitually 
cut  or  shave  it  allow  it  to  grow.  Those  who  paint 
omit  the  painting.  Those  who  braid  their  hair 
unbind  it  and  wear  it  loose.  Those  who  wear 
clothing  go  naked,  or  wear  scanty,  coarse,  or  old 
worn-out  clothes.  Ornaments  are  laid  aside  or 
covered  up.  Those  who  habitually  dress  in  gay 
clothing  put  on  colourless — black  or  white — gar- 
ments. Ainu  mourners  at  a  funeral  wear  their 
coats  inside  out  or  upside  down  (Batchelor,  106). 
Among  the  Bangala  a  man  sometimes  wears  a 
woman's  dress  in  token  of  sorrow  {JAI  xxxix. 
453).  Peoples  who  ordinarily  cover  their  heads 
uncover  them,  and  vice  versa.  Women,  especially 
widows,  cover  themselves  with  a  veil,  and  hide 
in  the  house — a  practice  pointing  probably  to  the 
contagiousness  of  the  tabu.  But  mourning  garb  is 
more  than  merely  distinctive  :  it  is,  like  other 
mourning  rites,  intended  to  express  sympathy  for 
the  deceased  and  grief  at  his  loss ;  it  is  intended 
to  call  forth  pity,  to  avert  the  suspicion  of  foul 
play  on  the  part  of  the  mourner,  and  to  depre- 
cate the  angei  or  ill-humour  of  the  deceased  at  his 
separation.  It  has  sometimes  been  suggested  that 
there  is  a  further  motive,  namely,  the  desire  to 
escape  by  means  of  disguise  the  persecution  of  the 
deceased.  A  careful  examination  fails,  however, 
to  disclose  sufficient  evidence  in  favour  of  this  in- 
terpretation. Protection  is  often  held  to  be  needed ; 
but  it  usually  takes  a  different  form.  The  Charrua 
mourner  is  armed  with  a  stick,  the  Ewhe  widow 
with  a  club.  And  various  other  means  are  taken 
— fires  or  lights,  incense  and  foul  smells,  exor- 
cism— to  drive  off  the  ghost  or  to  hold  it  at  arm's 
length.  In  short,  open  war  rather  than  guile  is 
the  favourite  defence.  But  so  protean  are  human 
motives  that  it  is  impossible  to  aver  that  in  no 
case  is  disguise  the  intention. 

3.  Duration. — The  death  of  a  member  of  the 
community  inflicts  a  wound  not  merely  on  the 
individual  relatives  and  friends,  but  on  the  com- 
munity as  a  whole.  His  place  knows  him  no 
more ;  and  time  is  required  to  fill  the  void  thus 
created  and  to  heal  the  wound.  As  we  have  seenv 
he  is  regarded  as  still  in  a  sense  living,  and  even 
active,  though  his  activities  are  uncanny.  They 
are  at  first  likely  to  cause  injury  to  the  survivors, 
from  his  bewilderment  and  resentment  at  being 
cut  off  from  the  relations  he  has  hitherto  sustained 
with  the  society  of  which  he  has  been  part.  The 
efforts  of  the  survivors  are,  therefore,  directed  to 
soothing  him,  to  guiding  his  footsteps  to  the 
permanent  home  of  the  dead,  and  smoothing  his 
reception  there.  There  he  will  find  those  who 
have  gone  before,  he  will  be  admitted  to  then- 
society,  the  counterpart  in  the  unseen  world  of 
the  earthly  community  he  has  left.  But  the  home 
of  the  dead  and  his  place  in  it  are  not  reached  all 
at  once.  Until  he  is  admitted,  he  is  not  at  peace, 
and  the  survivors  are  subject  to  the  risk  of  visits 
from  him.  Kather,  he  hangs  about  them,  the  con- 
tagion of  death  is  upon  them  more  or  less  heavily, 
according  as  they  were  more  or  less  nearly  con- 
nected with  him  in  his  lifetime,  or  according  to 
the  length  of  time  that  has  elapsed  since  the 
death.  The  length  of  the  period  of  tabu  thus  set 
up  varies  among  different  peoples.     Our   records 


440 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


are  very  imperfect,  and  accurate  statistics  are  not 
available.  All  that  can  here  be  done  is  to  note  a 
few  examples  showing  how  it  is  reckoned  in  some 
typical  cases. 

In  the  Babar  Archipelago  mourning  lasts  to  the  next  new 
moon,  and  is  brought  to  an  end  by  bathing  in  the  sea  (Riedel, 
363).  Among  the  Lenguas  of  Paraguay  the  relatives  cut  their 
hair,  and  the  mourning  lasts  until  it  has  grown  again  {Int. 
Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  76).  Among  the  Musquakies  it  lasts  for 
thirty  days.  At  the  end  of  that  time  the  mourners  wash  and 
paint  themselves,  relinquishing  the  old  torn  garments  they 
have  been  wearing  for  whole  ones,  and  a  feast  is  set.  The 
deceased  is  summoned,  and  a  representative  appears,  who 
joins  in  the  festivity.  He  is  called  the  'ghost-carrier.'  When 
sunset  is  near  he  departs  toward  the  west  with  an  escort  of 
young  men.  It  is  believed  that  he  carries  the  ghost  to  the 
Happy  Hunting  Ground,  and  on  his  return  he  is  called  by  the 
name  of  the  dead  man  whom  he  has  represented  (Owen,  FL 
of  Musquakie  Indians,  80).  In  the  New  Hebrides  the  mourn- 
ing lasts  for  100  days  (Codrington,  2S1).  A  year  is  supposed 
to  be  the  period  of  mourning  among  the  Agni  of  Baoule  on 
the  Ivory  Coast ;  but  very  often  it  is  reduced  to  6  or  even 
3  months,  except  for  the  widows,  who  must  always  mourn  the 
full  year.  Although  funeral  ceremonies  are  proceeding  during 
this  period,  the  actual  burial  may  be  postponed  for  years  (Clozel 
and  Villamur,  115).  In  Korea  the  length  of  mourning  depends 
on  the  degree  of  kinship.  For  father,  mother,  husband, 
adoptive  parents,  or  first-born  son,  it  is  27  months,  though 
nominally  3  years ;  for  relatives  under  19  years  of  age  it  may 
be  as  little  as  3  months  (JAI  xxv.  342).  Among  the  Ewhe  the 
survivors  mourn  in  the  hut  for  eight  months.  A  feast  is  then 
held,  the  remains  of  the  food  when  it  is  finished  are  thrown 
away,  and  the  mourning  is  over:  'they  say  they  have  to-day 
sent  the  dead  to  his  brethren — those  who  have  gone  before ' 
(Spieth,  258).  Among  the  Dayaks  all  the  kindred  are  '  un- 
clean '  for  a  short  period,  from  3  to  7  days ;  they  can  pay  no 
visits,  and  are  restricted  in  diet,  and  so  forth.  The  house  also 
is  '  unclean.'  Then  fowls  are  slaughtered,  the  mourners  and 
the  entrances  of  the  house  are  daubed  with  the  blood,  and  so 
purified.  But  for  the  immediate  relatives — husband,  wife,  and 
children — the  tabu  lasts  much  longer ;  nor  are  they  released 
until  they  have  held  the  tiwah,  or  final  feast  of  the  dead,  which 
gives  the  soul  of  the  deceased  admittance  into  the  city  of  the 
dead,  and  is  a  costly  solemnity  to  be  provided  for  out  of  his 
estate.  During  that  period  they  must  wear  mourning  garb, 
and  neither  widow  nor  widower  can  marry  again  :  hence  the 
tiwah  is  held  as  quickly  as  possible  (Int.  Arch.  ii.  182).  The 
Warramunga  mourn  until  the  body  has  decayed  away,  and 
left  nothing  but  bones — a  process  extending  over  a  year,  or 
even  two  years.  The  bones  are  then  taken  down  from  their 
temporary  resting-place  in  a  tree  and,  with  one  exception,  put 
into  an  ant-hill  as  a  permanent  burial-place.  The  one  exception 
is  the  radius  of  one  of  the  arms.  It  is  brought  to  the  camp, 
where  wailing  and  gashing  of  the  limbs  are  repeated.  After 
certain  ceremonies  the  bone  is  solemnly  smashed  and  the  frag- 
ments buried  and  covered  with  a  stone.  As  soon  as  this  has 
been  done,  the  spirit  of  the  dead  goes  back  to  the  cainp  of 
ancestral  spirits  of  its  totem,  and  there  awaits  its  turn  for 
re-incarnation.  The  mourning  is  over  (Spencer-Gillenb,  530  ff.). 
Among  the  Dieri,  who  hold  that  the  deceased  haunts  the  grave, 
when  his  footsteps  are  no  longer  to  be  traced  the  surviving 
spouse  washes  away  the  ochre  from  his  or  her  countenance, 
smears  it  with  a  fresh  mixture  of  ochre  and  fat,  and  is  free  to 
marry  again  (Globus,  xcvii.  [1910]  57). 

4.  No  mourning. — Attention  has  been  drawn  to 
the  common  rule  that  the  mourning  tabus  weigh 
more  heavily  on  the  women  than  on  the  men.  The 
necessity  of  the  labour  and  vigilance  demanded 
from  the  latter  for  the  provision  of  food,  and  for 
protection  from  wild  animals  and  human  foes,  may 
probably  form  at  least  an  excuse  for  their  com- 
parative exemption.  Instances  of  total  exemption 
are  not  quite  unknown.  In  ancient  Greece  it  is 
said  the  men  of  Keos  wore  no  mourning  garb 
(Rohde,  Psyche,  i.  257  n. );  and  the  same  state- 
ment is  made  of  the  inhabitants  of  some  of  the 
Moluccas  (Riedel,  395).  Where  there  are  no 
outward  signs  there  is  probably  (not  certainly) 
no  tabu.  In  the  district  of  Kita  (French  Sudan), 
however,  we  are  told,  mourning  is  almost  un- 
known for  either  sex.  When  a  married  woman 
dies,  her  sister  is  offered  to  the  widower,  even 
before  the  funeral  is  over  ;  and  the  widower  often 
marries  again  in  eight  days,  though  some  wait 
longer — a  month  or  two  months  ;  while  others  take 
a  concubine  at  once.  If  a  man  dies,  his  widow 
may  marry  as  soon  as  she  likes,  unless  she  is 
pregnant,  when  she  must  wait  until  the  child  is 
born  (Steinmetz,  156).  In  Seguela,  on  the  Ivory 
Coast,  the  burial  and  funeral  dance  take  place  the 
time  day,  and  there  is  an  end  of  the  matter  :  mourn- 


ing is  quite  unknown  (Clozel  and  Villamur,  337), 
Among  the  Meo  of  Northern  Tongking  the  funeral 
rites  last  for  three  days,  daring  which  the  only 
sign  of  mourning  is  that  the  hair  is  untied  and 
allowed  to  hang  down  upon  the  shoulders.  There 
are  no  other  mourning  customs  and  apparently  no 
tabus.  For  a  day  or  two  some  food  is  laid  on  the 
grave  for  the  deceased,  and  then  he  is  forgotten 
(Lunet,  318). 

XVIII.  Purification  of  house  and  village. — In 
spite  of  the  elaborate  precautions  to  prevent  the 
dead  man  from  returning  (§§  IX.  5 ;  XL,  XII.),  he 
is  often  thought  to  be  present  in  the  dwelling  after 
the  actual  disposal  of  the  corpse  (§  XIII.).  Accord- 
ingly, either  after  the  body  has  been  removed  or 
at  the  completion  of  the  ceremonies  (which  may  be 
long  subsequent),  measures  must  be  taken  to 
purify  the  place  and  remove  the  tabu.  This  is 
accomplished  by  driving  away  the  ghost. 

At  the  last  of  the  funeral  feasts  of  the  Tara- 
humares  the  deceased,  as  we  have  seen,  is  driven 
away.  Three  feasts  are  required  to  get  rid  of  a 
man,  but  four  to  get  rid  of  a  woman,  because  she 
cannot  run  so  fast,  and  it  is  therefore  harder  to 
chase  her  off  (Lumholtz,  i.  387).  Noise  is  a  potent 
means  of  driving  away  ghosts,  and  indeed  all  in- 
convenient and  hostile  spirits.  For,  though  often 
dangerous,  they  are  all  fortunately  not  only  easily 
deceived,  but  possessed  of  very  weak  nerves.  In 
these  ceremonies  there  is  often  no  clear  distinction 
drawn  between  the  different  kinds  of  spirits,  all 
alike  being  liable  to  be  bluffed  and  tricked  and 
frightened  by  the  same  means.  It  is  impossible 
to  say  whether  the  guns  universally  fired  in  West 
Africa  at  Negro  funerals  are  directed  against  the 
ghost  or  against  other  spirits.  In  South  America 
the  Macusi  fire  before  tne  hut  in  which  the  corpse 
is  lying,  to  scare  off  both  the  ghost  and  the  evil 
spirit  that  has  caused  the  death  (Int.  Arch,  xiii., 
Suppl.  88).  Drums,  trumpets,  musical  instruments 
of  all  kinds,  shouts,  and  yells  are  all  very  commonly 
employed.  Among  the  ancient  Greeks,  brass  was 
beaten  to  drive  away  spirits  (Rohde,  Psyche,  ii.  77). 
In  the  Tyrol  an  approved  method  to  banish  a  ghost 
is  for  the  householder  to  collect  his  keys  and  jingle 
them.  He  can  thus  drive  the  ghost  to  the  boundary 
of  his  property.  Over  the  boundary,  however,  ho 
must  not  step  on  peril  of  being  torn  to  pieces 
(Zingerle,  57).  Many  of  the  funeral  dances,  as 
already  mentioned,  have  the  same  intent. 

In  various  parts  of  Europe,  especially  among  Slav  popula- 
tions, the  house  is  solemnly  swept  out  after  the  funeral.  Among 
the  Dayaks,  after  the  tiwah,  or  final  feast  of  the  dead,  the 
priests  take  a  besom  made  of  the  leaves  of  certain  plants, 
moisten  it  with  blood  and  rice-water,  and  asperge  all  who  have 
taken  part  in  the  feast  and  everything  in  the  house,  '  to  sweep 
away  the  pollution.'  The  priests  then  start  in  procession  for 
the  river.  As  they  set  out,  the  others  beat  the  walls  and  floor, 
and  the  priests  invite  all  causes  of  ill-luck  to  mount  on  them  ; 
they  pretend  to  totter  beneath  the  weight ;  and  arrived  at  the 
river  they  load  little  floats  with  the  misfortunes  thus  cleared 
out,  and  send  them  to  the  great  black  ship  in  the  middle  of 
the  sea,  where  the  king  of  the  small-pox  dwells  (Int.  Arch.  ii. 
201).  When  a  death  among  the  Thompson  Indians  of  British 
Columbia  took  place  in  a  winter  house,  it  was  purified  with 
water  in  which  tobacco  and  juniper  had  been  soaked,  fresh  fir- 
boughs  were  spread  on  the  floor  every  morning,  and  tobacco 
and  juniper  placed  in  various  parts  of  the  house.  But,  if  more 
than  one  death  took  place  in  the  house,  or  if  a  death  took  place 
in  a  summer  house,  then  the  house  was  burnt  (Jcsup  Exped. 
i.  331).  The  ancient  Greeks  employed  black  hellebore  in  the 
purification  of  their  houses  and  flocks  (Rohde,  ii.  73).  An  '  evil 
death '  requires  special  ceremonies  of  purification,  as  among 
the  Ewhe,  where  the  whole  village  is  defiled  by  a  suicide,  and 
the  kindred  are  called  upon  to  pay  special  compensation  for 
the  defilement  and  the  risk  of  drought  (Spieth,  274,  276 ;  see 
§  VII.  2  (c)). 

XIX.  Destruction  or  abandonment  of  house  and 
property. — The  purification  of  house  and  village 
presupposes  a  settled  life  and  a  certain  advance  in 
civilization.  At  a  lower  stratum  of  culture,  where 
the  huts  are  of  little  value  and  easily  erected,  or 
where  economic,  defensive,  .or  sentimental  reasons 
have  not  as  yet  rooted  the  population  to  one  spot, 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


441 


the  house  i*  destroyed  or  abandoned,  or  the  whole 
settlement  may  be  quitted  and  a  new  site  chosen. 
In  many  of  such  cases,  it  may  be  noted,  the  deceased 
is  either  buried  beneath  the  hut,  or  left  unburied 
within  it. 

The  Australian  natives  commonly  remove  the  camp  when  a 
death  occurs.  Among  the  Bantu  it  iB  usual  only  to  burn  or 
pull  down  the  hut  of  an  ordinary  person  ;  but  if  a  chief  dies  the 
entire  kraal  is  quitted,  at  all  events  for  a  time ;  among  some 
tribes  it  is  burnt  down.  The  reason  given  by  the  Ngoni  for 
abandoning  the  house  is  not  that  the  ghost  of  the  deceased 
always  lives  there,  but  that  it  may  return  to  its  former  haunts 
(Elmslie,  Among  the  Wild  Ngoni,  Edinb.  and  Loud.  1899,  p. 
71).  The  coast  is  therefore  left  clear  for  it.  Similar  customs 
are  reported  of  various  tribes  of  Negroes,  North  and  South 
American  Indians,  the  Andaman  Islanders,  the  Karens,  the 
Yakuts,  the  Kamtchadals,  of  many  of  the  peoples  inhabiting 
the  great  Eastern  Archipelago  and  the  Melanesian  Islands,  the 
Centra]  Eskimo,  and  others.  The  Ainu  assert  that  it  was 
customary  when  the  oldest  woman  of  a  family  died  to  burn 
down  the  hut,  because  they  feared  the  ghost  would  return 
malignant  and  bring  evil  upon  them.  She  is  now  given  a  tiny 
hut  to  herself,  and  when  she  dies  it  is  burnt  (Batchelor,  130). 
In  earlier  times  at  the  death  of  a  Japanese  sovereign  the 
capital  was  removed  to  a  fresh  site  (Aston,  Shinto,  1905,  p.  252). 

A  relic  of  the  custom  of  destroying  the  house  is  found  in  some 
of  the  Nicobar  Islands,  where  the  supporting  post  is  cut  through, 
or  so  severely  notched  that  it  requires  renewal  (Ind.  Cens.  Rep., 
1901,  iii.  209).  The  Cheremiss,  more  economical  still,  when  the 
coffin  is  placed  on  the  cart,  pray  the  dead  man  not  to  take 
away  his  house,  but  to  leave  it  to  his  heirs  (Smirnov,  i.  137). 
A  relic  of  the  abandonment  of  the  house  may  perhaps  be  found 
in  the  modern  Roman  custom  by  which  '  the  family,  if  they  can 
find  refuge  anywhere  else,  abandon  the  house  and  remain  away 
a  week '  (Hare  and  Baddeley,  Walks  in  Rome,  3909,  p.  433, 
quoting  Storj')- 

At  an  early  stage  of  culture  all  the  property  of 
the  deceased  was  buried  with  him  or  destroyed 
at  his  death.  Either  the  custom  or  relics  of  it 
are  reported  from  every  quarter  of  the  globe.  Its 
object  seems  to  have  been  not  merely  to  give  the 
property  over  to  the  deceased,  that  he  might  enter 
the  spirit-world  with  all  his  earthly  possessions 
and  state,  but  to  prevent  his  haunting  them  to 
the  discomfort  of  the  survivors.  Originally,  no 
doubt,  it  was  to  get  rid  of  the  death-pollution, 
for  the  practice  often  extends  beyond  his  pro- 
perty to  all  objects  associated  with  him.  On  the 
Melanesian  island  of  Bougainville  a  man's  work 
and  its  produce  are  regarded  as  the  supreme  mani- 
festations of  his  personality,  inseparably  linked 
withtheirauthor^FiZfKxxiii.  [1910J351).  Doubt- 
less the  same  view  was  taken  elsewhere  ;  and  it 
accounts  for  the  destruction  of  his  crops  and  fruit- 
trees  so  constantly  reported  from  the  East  Indies 
and  Melanesia.  Naturally  his  garments  and 
bedding,  where  such  things  are  in  use,  are  impreg- 
nated with  his  personality,  are  indeed  a  part  of 
himself.  The  superstitions  connected  writh  witch- 
craft afford  abundant  evidence  of  this. 

In  Europe  the  Votiaks  throw  awav  in  the  forest  or  into  a  lake 
all  the  clothing  of  the  deceased  (RTF  xiii.  [1898]  254).  In 
Worcestershire  it  is  ominously  said  :  '  The  clothes  of  the  dead 
will  not  wear  long'  {FL  xx.  [1909]  346).  In  Lincolnshire  it  is 
believed  that,  even  though  they  be  put  away,  they  will  rot  as 
the  body  decays  in  the  grave  {Antiquary,  xxxi.  [1895]  332).  In 
the  French  Department  of  Ille-et-Vilaine  it  is  believed  that 
everything  belonging  to  the  departed  will  soon  disappear  :  his 
clothes,  despite  all  that  can  be  done  to  preserve  them,  will  be 
promptly  eaten  by  maggots  ;  his  cattle  will  die  by  accident  or 
disease,  if  not  sold  to  the  butcher  (Orain,  ii.  299).  From  the 
Hebrides  to  the  Caucasus  the  bed  on  which  death  took  place  is 
burnt  or  thrown  away  (see  §  IV.  3). 

A  custom  so  hostile  to  the  growth  of  civilization 
and  to  the  individual  greed  of  survivors  could  not 
maintain  its  ground.  Hence  all  sorts  of  com- 
promises to  satisfy  the  consciences,  the  fears,  the 
affection,  and  the  avarice  of  the  survivors. 

Among  the  Hareskins  of  North  America  part  of  the  clothing 
is  distributed  among  the  relations,  part  interred  with  the  body, 
and  the  rest  tabued  and  burnt,  or  thrown  into  the  water  or  to 
the  winds  (Petitot,  272).  In  some  of  the  villages  of  Serang  a 
part  of  the  sago-plantation  of  the  deceased  is  destroyed  ;  in 
others  a  tabu  is  merely  laid  upon  it,  redeemable  by  a  third 
person  on  payment  of  a  large  gong,  a  sarong,  and  ten  dishes. 
He  thus  appropriates  it,  and  afterwards  gives  it  back  to  the 
blood-relations  (Riedel,  142,  143).  In  others  of  the  Moluccas  the 
dend  man  is  allotted  a  share  of  the  trees  of  various  kinds  in  his 
plantation,  and  these  are  cut  down  ;  the  rest  remain  to  the  sur- 
vivors (ih.  360,  394).     A  similar  practice  prevails  on  the  Tami 


Islands.  There  the  canoes  are  too  valuable  to  be  destroyed ; 
accordingly  a  few  chips  are  cut  off  them,  and  a  figure-head 
detached  (ZVR  W  xiv.  [1900]  337).  The  same  principle  is  applied 
in  Malta,  where  the  hair  is  cut  off  the  tail  of  every  horse  in  the 
stable.  The  hired  mourners  cut  away  branches  of  such  vines  as 
form  arbours  in  the  courts,  disturb  the  furniture  in  the  house, 
overturn  the  flower-pots  in  the  windows,  break  some  of  the 
ornamental  furniture,  and,  carrying  the  fragments  to  a  retired 
spot,  throw  them  into  a  cauldron  of  boiling  water,  in  which  they 
mix  soot  and  ashes,  afterwards  staining  all  the  doors  in  the 
house  with  the  liquid  (Busuttil,  130,  128).  Among  the  Kirghiz 
no  one  will  mount  the  steed  of  a  dead  man  without  first  reversing 
the  saddle,  with  the  object,  no  doubt,  of  unhorsing  his  former 
owner  (ZVV  xii.  [1902]  16).  The  Sioux  used  to  gamble  away 
the  effects  of  the  dead  in  a  ceremony  called  the  'ghost-gamble,' 
in  which  the  dead  man  himself  was  conceived  to  take  part 
(1  REE  W  195) ;  or  his  effects  were  given  away  among  those  who 
took  part  in  the  funeral  rites,  even  though  the  family  might 
be  left  destitute ;  and  one  or  more  of  his  horses  was  shot  and 
placed  under  the  burial-scaffold  (ib.  159,  164).  The  Nicobarese, 
before  appropriating  anything  belonging  to  one  who  has  died, 
require  it  to  be  purified  by  the  conjurations  of  a  minloven 
(priest  or  sorcerer)  (Featherman,  Races  of  Mankind,  ii.  [1887] 
250). 

Many  peoples,  however,  consider  it  sufficient  to 
delay  the  appropriation  and  division  of  the  goods 
for  such  a  period  as  is  requisite  to  elapse  before  the 
departed  attains  his  final  destination  in  the  land  of 
the  dead — a  period  often  coinciding  with  the  com- 
pletion of  the  mourning  rites.  During  this  time 
the  property,  like  the  widows,  remains  under 
tabu. 

In  New  Georgia  the  final  rites  are  performed  and  the  bones 
disposed  of  at  the  end  of  100  days.  Not  until  then  can  the 
property  be  touched  (J A I  xxvi.  403).  Among  various  Bantu 
tribes  nothing  is  touched  until  the  mourning  is  at  an  end. 
Among  the  Minangkabau  Malays  of  the  Padang  Highlands 
in  Sumatra,  where  the  husband  goes  to  reside  with  his  wife  in 
her  village,  his  goods  are  divided  the  day  after  his  burial, 
because  his  soul  at  once  goes  back  to  his  own  family  village. 
When  the  wife  dies,  on  the  other  hand,  the  husband  has  the 
right  to  remain  in  the  house  for  100  days.  During  that  time 
the  marriage-bond  is  deemed  not  to  be  entirely  sundered,  and 
be  has  common  use  with  his  wife  of  her  property.  On  the  100th 
day  Bhe  departs  for  good  to  the  land  of  souls.  The  property 
can  then  be  disposed  of  (Bijdragen,  xxxix.  [1890]  71).  The 
Thompson  Indians  of  British  Columbia  placed  a  portion  of  the 
property  of  the  deceased  in  or  near  his  grave.  Such  as  was  not 
so  given  up  to  him  was  divided  among  his  relatives.  But  no 
one  could  with  impunity  take  possession  of  his  bow  and  arrows, 
leggings,  or  moccasins  ;  nor  was  it  safe  for  any  one  who  had  not 
a  strong  guardian -spirit  to  smoke  his  pipe.  Clothing  taken  was 
washed  or  put  for  some  time  in  running  water,  and  afterwards 
hung  out  for  several  dayB ;  while  the  traps  and  snares  of  the 
deceased  were  hung  up  in  a  tree  a  considerable  distance  from 
human  habitation  or  graveyard,  for  a  long  time  before  being 
used  (Jesup  Exped,  i.  331).  In  Europe,  among  the  Sorbs  of  the 
Spree  Valley  deep  mourning  lasts  for  four  weeks.  The  inheri- 
tance remains  untouched  until  it  comes  to  an  end ;  though  the 
nearest  relations  are  mourned  for  a  year  (Tetzner,  325). 

XX.  Tabu  of  name. — Many  peoples  avoid  men- 
tioning the  dead  by  name,  or  even  prohibit  it.  In 
some  cases  the  intention  seems  to  be  to  forget  the 
deceased.  This  is  expressly  stated  of  the  Arawak, 
Salivas,  and  other  South  American  tribes.  But 
the  intention  to  forget  probably  arises  from  fear. 

The  Insular  Caribs  feared  the  souls  of  their  forefathers  as  evil 
spirits,  and  never  named  them.  The  Guaycurus  and  Lenguas 
not  only  never  mentioned  the  name  of  the  deceased,  but  on  the 
occasion  of  a  death  the  survivors  changed  their  own  names  so 
as  to  baffle  the  dead  man  (or  death,  or  the  evil  spirit  which  had 
caused  the  death)  when  he  came  again  to  find  them.  Among 
the  Guajiros,  if  the  name  of  the  dead  was  mentioned  in  the 
family-hut  the  penalty  was  death,  or  at  least  a  heavy  fine 
(Int.  Arch,  xiii.,  Suppl.  99).  The  Yabim  of  New  Guinea  avoid 
mentioning  the  names  of  the  dead,  lest  their  ghosts  may  be 
disturbed  at  their  occupation  in  the  forest  of  eating  otherwise 
uneatable  fruits,  and  their  anger  be  thus  incurred  {ZVRW  xiv. 
336).  Among  the  Lillooet  the  name  of  a  dead  person  must 
not  be  uttered  for  a  year  or  more,  '  not  so  much  out  of  regard 
to  the  feelings  of  the  surviving  relatives,  as  on  account  of  the 
mystic  connection  which  is  supposed  to  exist  between  names 
and  their  owners.  To  utter  or  use  the  name  of  a  dead  person  is 
to  affect  and  disturb  his  ghost  or  spirit,  and  draw  it  back  to  its 
earthly  haunts.  This  is  inimical  both  to  the  ghost  itself  and  to 
the  person  using  the  name,  and  thus  attracting  the  ghostly  in- 
fluence.'   But  time  removes  the  danger  (JAI  xxxv.  138). 

It  should  be  observed,  however,  that  this  widely 
spread  tabu  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  cult  of  the 
dead.  On  the  islands  of  Nossi-Be  and  Mayotte 
near  Madagascar  a  king  at  his  death  becomes 
sacred ;  he  is  believed  to  have  taken  his  place 
among  the  gods ;  yet  no  one  in  the  district  dares 
henceforth  to  utter  his  name  (Steinmetz,  383).     So 


442 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


among  many  Bantu  tribes,  where  ancestor- worship 
is  the  religion,  the  name  of  the  dead  and  all  similar 
sounds  are  tabued — a  custom  that  frequently  leads 
to  considerable,  though  usually  not  permanent, 
changes  in  the  vocabulary.  This  extension  of  the 
rule  of  avoidance  is  not  confined  to  the  Bantu  :  it 
is  found  in  other  parts  of  the  world. 

The  tabu  of  the  name  of  the  dead  is  very  well 
known,  and  need  not  be  further  illustrated  here. 
If  widely  spread,  it  is  not  universal.  Among  the 
ancient  Egyptians  the  opposite  rule  prevailed. 
The  great  desire  of  an  Egyptian  was  to  continue 
his  ghostly  existence.  To  be  remembered  by  the 
living  was  one  means  to  this.  Accordingly  the 
statue  of  a  high  official  under  Psammeticus  I.,  in 
the  Museum  at  Berlin,  bears  the  following  remark- 
able sentences  in  the  course  of  its  inscription  : 
'  May  the  gods  of  this  temple  recompense  you  if 
you  pronounce  my  name  !  He  whose  name  is  pro- 
nounced lives ;  and  if  another  see  that  you  act 
thus  towards  me,  he  will  do  the  same  for  you* 
(BHR  lix.  [1909]  185).  There  is  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  many  peoples  more  than  a  mystical  con- 
nexion between  the  name  and  its  owner  ;  the  name 
is  part  of  its  owner,  and  while  it  lives  the  owner 
too  survives. 

XXI.  Second  funeral.  Ossuaries. — Among  a 
very  large  number  of  peoples  who  practise  earth- 
burial  in  one  form  or  another,  the  ceremonies  are 
not  completed  until  the  bones  have  been  taken  up, 
cleaned,  and  put  into  a  place  of  final  deposit.  In 
many  of  the  cases  of  sub-aerial  deposit,  also,  the 
bones  are  collected  at  the  end  of  a  certain  period 
and  put  into  the  tribal  or  local  ossuary.  Until 
this  rite  has  been  performed,  the  dead  man  is  not 
at  rest,  and  in  many  cases  the  mourning  is  not  at 
an  end. 

i.  Decay  or  destruction  of  the  flesh. — Not  merely 
is  the  journey  of  the  soul  often  long  and  difficult : 
it  is  bound  to  the  body  until  the  process  of  decay 
is  complete.  Indeed,  so  refined  a  conception  as 
that  oi  the  soul  immaterial  and  independent  of 
the  body  is  beyond  the  imagination  of  the  lower 
culture. 

A  Wonkatjerri  man  told  a  missionary  in  South  Australia  that 
in  the  grave  the  flesh  separates  from  the  bones ;  the  bones  that 
remain  are  the  kutcki,  the  ghost ;  while  the  flesh  goes  as 
mungara,  the  soul,  to  heaven,  where  it  reveals  itself  as  still 
living,  by  thunder  and  lightning  {Globus,  xcvii.  56).  So  at 
the  other  end  of  the  world  the  Hurons  called  the  bones  of  the 
dead  atisken  (souls),  believing  '  that  we  have  two  souls,  both 
divisible  and  material,  and  yet  both  rational ;  one  leaves  the  body 
at  death,  but  remains,  however,  in  the  cemetery  until  the  feast 
of  the  dead  [see  below],  after  which  either  it  is  changed  into  a 
turtle-dove,  or,  according  to  the  more  general  belief,  it  goes 
immediately  to  the  village  of  souls.  The  other  soul  is  attached 
to  the  body  ;  it  marks  the  corpse,  as  it  were,  and  remains  in  the 
grave  after  the  feast,  never  to  leave  it  unless  it  be  born  again.' 
'This  is  why  they  call  the  bones  of  the  dead  atisken,  "the 
souls'"  (5  RBEW  114,  translating  Jesuit  Rel.  1630).  The  Tor- 
adjas  of  Celebes  hold  that  the  soul  cannot  enter  the  village  of  the 
dead  so  long  as  the  body  stinks,  that  is,  until  the  soft  parts  have 
perished.  '  So  long  as  the  bouI  [sic]  stinks  it  is  still  a  human  being 
(Mensch),  and  the  dwellers  in  the  land  of  souls  will  not  admit  it 
into  their  territory '  (Krui jt,  328).  The  Caribs  likewise  were  per- 
suaded that  the  dead  did  not  go  to  the  land  of  souls  so  long  as 
the  flesh  remained.  Rites  performed  by  the  Betsileo  of  Mada- 
gascar are  intended  to  facilitate  putrefaction  and  the  transfor- 
mation or  re-incarnation  of  the  dead  in  a  snake  called  the 
fanany,  supposed  to  issue  from  the  decaying  corpse  (van 
Gennep,  Rites  de  passage,  1909,  p.  213,  Tabou  et  totimiSTne  a 
Madagascar,  1904,  p.  277).  In  the  Aaru  Archipelago  all  the 
possessions  of  the  deceased  are  collected  on  his  grave,  and  his 
relatives  must  lay  food  there  every  day,  until  all  the  flesh  has 
rotted  away  from  his  bones  and  they  can  he  ceremonially  trans- 
ferred to  the  family  burial-place.  The  transfer  is  preceded  by  a 
feast,  and  the  ceremony  already  referred  to  which  gives  formal 
authority  to  the  widow  to  marry  again  (Riedel,  267,  268).  It  is 
obvious  that,  until  the  flesh  has  perished,  the  soul  is  still  within 
reach ;  it  has  not  yet  entered  its  final  home ;  it  clings  to  its 
property  and  must  be  duly  fed  like  a  living  man.  So,  too,  the 
Greek  Church  in  its  burial  service  prays  that  the  body  may  '  be 
dissolved  into  its  component  elements.'  Three  vears  after 
burial  the  body  is  disirterred,  and,  if  found  thoroughly  de- 
composed so  that  the  bones  can  be  removed  to  the  ossuary,  it 
is  looked  upon  by  the  people  as  a  certain  proof  that  the  soul  of 
the  dead  is  at  rest.  Partial  or  total  absence  of  decomposition 
indicates,  on  the  other  hand,  the  sinfulness  and  Bad  plight  of 


the  departed.  A  common  curse  accordingly  is  'May  the  earth 
not  consume  your  body!'  (Abbott,  Maced.  Folkl.,  210;  Rodd. 
127).  This  is  in  curious  contrast  to  the  belief  in  the  Western 
Church,  as  well  as  among  the  Chinese  and  other  nations  of  the 
East,  that  total  absence  of  decomposition  is  an  infallible  mark 
of  saintship.  Such  contrasts  are,  however,  by  no  means  un- 
common in  all  kinds  of  superstition. 

The  process  of  decomposition  is,  therefore,  frequently  assisted 
by  artificial  means.  Some  examples  of  this  have  already  been 
incidentally  given  (§  VI.  6).  Thus  the  deceased  is  the  more 
speedily  dismissed  to  his  final  destination,  alike  to  his  comfort 
and  that  of  the  survivors.  A  different  motive,  however,  some- 
times underlies  the  practice.  In  the  Solomon  Islands  the  souls 
of  chiefs  and  others  who  are  held  to  have  saka  (to  be  hot  with 
spiritual  power)  become  ghosts  of  power.  At  Saa,  on  the  island 
of  Malanta,  common  people  are  buried  in  a  common  burial- 
place,  and  their  flesh  is  allowed  to  decay  in  a  natural  way.  But 
it  is  believed  that  even  a  ghost  of  power  is  weak  so  long  as  the 
corpse  continues  to  smell.  Hence  water  used  to  be,  and  still  is 
in  some  places,  poured  over  it  to  hasten  decay.  Exposure, 
sinking  in  the  sea,  and  cremation — all  of  them  occasionally 
practised — probably  owe  their  use  to  the  same  motive.  For,  by 
taking  the  skull,  hair,  or  nails  of  the  corpse,  the  wonder-working 
power — what  elsewhere  is  called  the  mana — of  the  ghost  is  then 
secured  for  the  benefit  of  the  survivors  (Codrington,  260  ff.). 

Nor  is  it  only  by  such  indirect  means  that  the  final  ceremony 
is  accelerated.  Some  of  the  South  American  tribes  wait  no 
more  than  ten  to  fourteen  days.  After  the  lapse  of  that  time 
they  disinter  the  body,  strip  the  flesh  from  the  bones,  and  after 
an  elaborate  ceremony  re-bury  the  latter  (von  den  Steinen,  458, 
505;  JAFL  xv.  [1902]  290).  The  Choctaws  were  said  to  have 
1  a  set  of  venerable  old  gentlemen,'  with  very  long  nails,  whose 
business  it  was  to  tear  the  flesh  off  the  bones  and  burn  it  with 
the  entrails  preparatory  to  the  final  deposit  of  the. bones  in 
the  bone-house  (1  RBEW  168, 169).  So  in  South  Tetoen,  on  the 
island  of  Timor,  a  few  days  after  the  death  of  a  king  the  bones 
are  separated  from  the  flesh  and  other  soft  parts  of  the  body  ; 
and  not  until  nothing  but  the  skeleton  remains  does  the  wailing 
begin,  '  for  it  is  only  then  that  the  dead  is  dead  indeed.'  The 
skeleton  is  accorded  a  funeral  suitable  to  the  rank  of  the 
deceased ;  the  flesh  is  simply  thrust  into  a  hole  (Kruijt,  330). 

Where  the  decay  of  the  flesh  is  left  to  natural 
means,  the  length  of  delay  before  the  bones  are 
finally  disposed  of  differs  very  widely  among  differ- 
ent peoples  in  different  climates. 

The  Kukis  of  Manipur  are  satisfied  with  the  decomposition 
of  '  a  month  or  so ' :  they  wrap  what  remains  in  a  new  cloth 
and  bury  it  (J  A I  xxxi.  305).  '  Fifty  or  a  hundred  days'  suffice 
in  the  Banks  Islands  (Codrington,  267).  Few  tribes  elsewhere 
exhume  their  friends  in  less  than  a  year.  Many  wait  two  years 
or  more.  The  Chinese  of  Tongking  after  three  years  take  the 
bones  from  the  coffin,  enclose  them  in  jars,  and  re-bury  them  in 
the  grave,  over  which  a  small  mausoleum  is  erected,  or  in 
columbaria  on  the  hillsides  (Lunet,  90).  There  is  some  evidence 
that  a  similar  custom  was  formerly  followed  in  China  itself  (de 
Groot,  iii.  1070).  Among  the  Bulgarians  the  parents  of  a  dead 
child  after  three — in  some  districts,  after  as  long  as  nine — years 
dig  up  the  bones,  wash  them  with  wine,  and  let  them  lie  for  a 
whole  year  in  the  church  before  they  are  again  buried  (Strausz, 
458).  Throughout  Europe  it  was  customary  during  the  Middle 
Ages  and  later  to  dig  up  the  bones  after  a  certain  period  and 
place  them  in  a  charnel-house.  This  custom  is  usually  ascribed 
to  want  of  room  in  the  churchyard.  The  explanation  is  hardly 
sufficient :  the  origin  of  the  custom  is  more  likely  due  to  causes 
considered  here. 

2.  Feast  of  the  Dead. — The  tendency  to  postpone 
the  final  ceremony,  where  it  involves  exhumation 
or  the  collection  of  exposed  bones  or  of  ashes,  is 
accentuated  among  small  but  closely  organized 
communities  by  making  a  common  ceremony, 
often  called  the  Feast  of  the  Dead,  for  a  number 
of  the  departed.  Even  among  the  Bororo  of  Brazil, 
where  the  exhumation  is  so  speedy,  the  relics  of  one 
person  cannot  be  disposed  of  alone  :  one  dead  man 
must  wait  for  a  second,  and  the  two  leave  the 
village  in  company  (von  den  Steinen,  510).  In 
these  cases  there  is  usually  a  common  grave  or 
place  of  deposit.  The  stock  example  is  that  of  the 
Hurons,  who  every  twelve  years  used  to  dig  up  the 
bones  of  those  who  had  died  since  the  last  Feast  of 
the  Dead.  The  bones  were  first  of  all  cleaned.  If 
corruption  had  not  finished  its  work,  all  the  remain- 
ing flesh  was  stripped  of! and  burned,  unless  the  body 
was  so  newly  buried  as  to  be  practically  whole. 
The  bones  were  then  wrapped  m  sacks  or  blankets., 
covered  with  rich  robes  of  beaver-skin,  taken 
severally  into  the  cabins,  and  mourned  over.  They 
were  afterwards  brought  together,  and  a  feast  was 
held  in  their  presence,  with  funeral  games.  On  a 
subsequent  day  they  were  taken  to  a  large  pit, 
where  they  were  all  buried  together,  with  mucb 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Introductory) 


443 


ceremony  and  the  distribution  of  gifts  (5  RBEW 
112).  We  need  not  determine  whether  these  rites 
are  more  elaborate  than  those  of  other  nations,  or 
whether  they  are  only  more  vividly  described.  It 
is  certain  that  similar  rites  take  place  elsewhere. 
The  Khasis,  who  burn  their  dead,  deposit  the  ashes 
in  small  cairns.  Thence  they  remove  them  to 
larger  bone  repositories,  of  which  one  belongs  to 
every  branch  of  a  clan.  The  contents  of  these 
repositories  are  periodically,  after  the  settlement 
of  all  outstanding  disputes  between  the  members 
of  the  clan,  removed,  with  sacrifices,  dancing,  and 
other  rites,  to  the  common  sepulchre  of  the  clan,  a 
massive  stone  building,  where  the  remains  of  all 
the  departed  members  of  the  clan  eventually  rest 
(Gurdon,  140).  Corresponding  ceremonies  are  ob- 
served elsewhere  in  India,  and  are  common  in  the 
East  Indian  islands.  They  economize  the  energies 
of  the  survivors,  and  concentrate  them  on  one 
occasion ;  but  their  chief  value  is  to  bring  home  to 
the  members  of  the  clan  or  community  their  com- 
mon life,  with  its  common  sorrows  and  joys — in  a 
word,  their  unity  among  themselves  and  with  their 
dead. 

3.  Destination  of  the  remains. — The  final  destina- 
tion of  the  remains,  like  the  preliminary  disposal, 
is  by  no  means  the  same  everywhere.  This  will 
have  been  inferred  from  the  examples  just  cited. 

Various  Australian  tribes,  after  carrying  the  bodies  or  the 
bones  about  with  them  for  a  time,  either  bury  or  deposit  them 
in  the  branches  of  trees  (Howitt,  467,  470,  471).  The  Choctaws 
of  Carolina  had  a  common  bone-house  (1  RBEW  169),  which 
doubtless  was  regarded  as  a  sacred  building.  The  name  of 
temple  is  expressly  given  by  older  writers  to  the  repositories  of 
the  dead  Indians  of  Louisiana  and  Virginia,  where  religious  rites 
were  constantly  performed,  at  all  events  to  departed  chiefs 
(1  RBEtV  124).  Of  the  natives  of  Sofala,  in  S.E.  Africa,  it  was 
reported  by  the  old  Portuguese  writer,  Joao  de  Barros  :  '  After 
the  flesh  of  the  body  is  consumed  they  take  the  bones  of  their 
ancestors  or  descendants,  or  of  the  wife  who  bore  many  children, 
and  keep  them,  with  signs  to  denote  whom  they  belonged 
to,  and  every  seven  days  in  the  place  where  they  keep  these 
bones,  as  in  a  garden,  they  spread  cloths  and  lay  a  table  with 
bread  and  boiled  meat,  as  if  they  were  offering  food  to  the  dead, 
to  whom  they  pray,'  afterwards  eating  the  food  thus  offered 
(flee.  S.E.  Afr.  vi.  [1900]  113,  269).  The  Caribshung  the  cleansed 
bones  in  a  basket  from  the  rafters  of  their  dwellings  (Boyle, 
ArchfBol.  Rep.,  1903,  142);  and  in  the  Banks  Islands,  while  the 
bones  of  a  favourite  son  were  hidden  in  the  bush,  some  of  them 
would  be  hung  up  in  the  house  (Codrington,  267).  Among  the 
Andaman  Islanders  the  relatives  weep  over  the  bones,  each  of 
them  taking  a  bone,  and  the  nearest  relative  taking  the  skull 
and  lower  jaw,  and  carrying  them  about  for  months  sus- 
pended from  the  neck.  Sometimes  the  bones  are  bound  to  posts 
of  the  hut  (Trans.  Ethnol.  Soc.,  new  ser.,  ii.  [1863]  37). 

4.  Object  of  the  practices. — The  rite  of  exhuming 
or  collecting  the  bones  and  making  a  permanent 
disposition  of  them  is  thus  generally  connected 
with,  or  has  for  its  object,  the  definitive  severance 
of  the  dead  from  the  society  of  the  living,  and  their 
union  with  the  fathers  in  the  life  beyond.  The 
ceremonies  for  this  purpose,  however,  are  not 
always  concerned  with  the  bodily  remains. 

On  the  Timorlaut  and  Tanembar  Islands,  ten  days  after  the 
burial  of  a  warrior  who  has  fallen  in  battle,  the  people  of  the 
village  assemble  on  the  shore,  the  men  armed  and  the  women  in 
festival  array.  An  old  woman  calls  back  the  soul  with  wailing. 
A  bamboo  with  all  its  leaves  is  then  erected  in  the  ground,  a 
loin-girdle  on  the  top.  This  bamboo  is  regarded  as  a  ladder,  up 
which  the  soul  climbs  to  its  destination.  The  sernitu  (a  sort  of 
priest  or  shaman)  pronounces  a  eulogy  on  the  deceased,  punc- 
tuated by  the  applause  of  the  audience.  When  from  the  move- 
ment of  the  bamboo  it  is  judged  that  the  soul  has  climbed  to  the 
top,  the  bamboo  is  severed  in  two  and  the  loin-girdle  burnt,  to 
prevent  the  soul  from  subsequently  wandering  about  or  causing 
mischief.  A  dish  containing  rice  and  an  egg,  previously  pro- 
vided for  the  ceremony,  is  also  broken  to  pieces.  Appeased  in 
this  way,  the  soul  betakes  itself  to  the  little  island  of  Nusnitu, 
off  the  north-west  coast  of  Seelu,  one  of  the  islands  of  the  group 
which  is  believed  to  be  the  dwelling-place  of  souls.  The  hones, 
it  would  seem,  are  disposed  of  at  a  latertime  (Riedel,  307).  The 
Chechenes  of  the  Caucasus  hold  what  is  called  a  Bed-memorial- 
feast  a  short  time  after  the  funeral.  It  is  believed  that  the 
deceased  has  then  reached  the  other  world,  but  lies  in  bed  there 
and  cannot  rise  until  this  feast  has  been  celebrated.  It  is  there- 
fore held  as  soon  as  possible,  and  consists  of  funeral  games — 
chiefly  shooting  and  horse-racing — followed  by  eating  and  drink- 
ing. The  honour  done  to  the  deceased  is  measured  by  the 
drunkenness.  Before  it  is  over  the  four  best  horses  which  have 
taken  part  are  consecrated — the  horse  which  has  won  the  first 


prize  to  the  deceased  in  whose  honour  the  feast  is  held,  and  the 
others  to  three  of  his  ancestors  by  name.  This  consecration  does 
not  involve  the  entire  loss  of  the  animals  by  their  owners,  but 
only  permission  to  the  dead  to  whom  they  are  consecrated  'to 
ride  them  whither  they  will.'  The  final  or  great  memorial-feast 
is,  however,  not  held  for  two  years,  when  it  is  given  by  the 
widow.  She  then  lays  aside  her  mourning,  and  may  marry  the 
brother  or  some  other  relative  of  the  deceased  (Anthropos.  hi. 
730). 

As  to  the  races  and  other  contests  at  the  Bed- 
memorial-feast,  see  §  XVI.  They  are  expressly 
intended  to  affect  the  condition  of  the  deceased  in 
the  other  world.  Pre-historic  remains  in  various 
parts  of  both  the  Old  World  and  the  New  point  to 
the  great  antiquity  of  practices  of  exhumation  and 
re-burial  of  the  bones  comparable  with  those  dis- 
cussed above. 

5.  Disposal  of  the  skull. — Among  the  practices 
which  we  have  just  considered,  special  mention  has 
several  times  been  made  of  the  skull  of  the  de- 
ceased. The  skull  is  sometimes  worn  or  earned 
about  for  a  time,  most  frequently  that  of  a  man  by 
his  widow.  In  such  a  case  it  is  perhaps  merely  a 
dear  memorial  of  the  deceased,  or  at  most  an 
amulet.  Thus  in  the  Andaman  Islands,  where  the 
bones  are  broken  up  and  made  into  ornaments,  and 
the  skull  is  '  worn  down  the  back  tied  round  the 
neck,  usually,  but  not  always,  by  the  widow, 
widower,  or  nearest  relative,'  not  only  is  great 
importance  attached  to  them  as  mementoes,  but 
'  they  are  believed  to  stop  pain  and  cure  diseases 
by  simple  application  to  the  diseased  part '  (hid. 
Cens.  Hep.,  1901,  iii.  65).  But  amulets  are  on  their 
way  to  become  objects  of  cult.  Accordingly,  wher- 
ever we  find  bones,  especially  skulls,  preserved  in 
the  house  or  in  a  special  shrine,  whether  common 
or  not  to  other  similar  relics  of  the  family,  or  clan, 
or  even  of  a  larger  community,  we  may  suspect  a 
more  or  less  developed  cult,  though  it  may  not  be 
expressly  recorded  by  our  authorities.  In  many 
instances,  however,  this  cult  is  recorded. 

Folk-tales  of  the  western  islands  of  Torres  Straits,  in  accord 
with  the  practices  which  obtain  in  those  islands,  describe  the 
hero  picking  scented  leaves,  with  some  of  which  he  rubs  the 
skulls  of  his  father  and  mother,  and  on  others  of  which  he  beds 
them.  They  describe  his  telling  the  skulls  his  adventures,  and 
inquiring  as  to  the  future.  They  tell  the  responses  made  to  him 
by  the  skulls  in  his  sleep,  and  the  success  which  attended  his 
following  their  directions  and  observing  their  warnings  (Torres 
Str.  Rep.  v.  41  ff.,  47 ;  cf.  250,  251,  257,  258,  261,  362).  In  the 
Solomon  Islands  the  skull  is  regarded  as  hot  with  spiritual 
power ;  and  by  its  means  the  help  of  the  ghost  can  be  obtained. 
At  Santa  Cruz  it  is  kept  in  the  house  in  a  chest,  and  food  is  set 
before  it,  for  '  this  is  the  man  himself '  (Codrington,  262,  264). 
Similarly,  a  Fan  chief  in  West  Africa  keeps  in  a  chest  the  heads 
of  his  ancestors,  and  invokes  its  contents  on  the  eve  of  great 
events,  such  as  war  or  the  chase  (Roche,  Au  Pays  des  Pahouins, 
1004,  p.  91). 

It  is  this  belief  in  the  spiritual  power  associated 
with  the  head  even  of  an  enemy  that  forms  the  foun- 
dation of  the  practice,  common  in  the  East  Indies, 
of  head-hunting.  The  head  is  not  a  mere  trophy  ; 
'  it  is  an  object  of  heart-felt  veneration,  an  earnest 
of  blessing  to  the  whole  community. '  '  Those  who 
were  once  our  enemies  hereby  become  our  guardians, 
our  friends,  our  benefactors'  (Furness,  op.  cit.  65, 
59).  They  are  addressed,  soothed,  and  propitiated 
on  all  proper  occasions ;  and  it  is  to  them  that  the 
happy  owner  ascribes  his  plentiful  harvests,  and 
his  immunity  from  sickness  and  pain. 

XXII.  Effigies  of  the  deceased. — Many  peoples 
complete  their  funeral  ceremonies  by  the  erection 
of  an  effigy  of  the  dead.  Thus  the  Kafirs  of  the 
Hindu  Kush,  one  year  after  the  death  of  an  adult, 
set  up  a  coarsely  carved  wooden  statue,  and  in- 
augurate it  with  a  feast  (Robertson,  p.  645).  The 
Thompson  Indians  of  British  Columbia  erect  on  the 
grave  a  wooden  figure,  carved  and  painted  as  nearly 
as  possible  in  the  likeness  of  the  deceased — a  prac- 
tice of  considerable  antiquity,  since  posts  carved 
with  human  faces  are  found  on  ancient  graves, 
the  ownership  of  which  has  passed  out  of  memory 
(Jesup  Exped.  i.  329,  335,  405).     In  such  cases  the 


444 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Babylonian) 


effigies  are,  so  far  as  our  reports  go,  simple  memo- 
rials. In  other  cases  they  seem  to  be  something 
more  than  that. 

'  When  a  respected  Ostiak  dies,  his  nearest  relations  make  a 
figure  of  him,  which  i3  kept  in  the  tent  of  the  deceased,  and 
enjoys  the  same  honour  as  himself  when  alive.  At  every  meal 
the  figure  iB  brought  in  ;  every  evening  it  is  undressed  and  put 
to  bed  ;  every  morning  it  is  dressed  and  set  in  the  usual  seat  of 
the  deceased.  The  figure  is  honoured  in  this  way  for  three  or 
four  years  and  then  thrown  into  the  grave '  (Abercromby,  Finns, 
Lond.  1898,  i.  169).  An  Ojibwa  widow  ties  up  a  bundle  of 
clothes  in  the  form  of  an  infant ;  she  lies  with  it  and  carries  it 
about  for  twelve  months,  '  as  a  memorial  of  her  departed  hus- 
band.' Then  she  discards  it  with  her  mourning,  and  is  free  to 
marry  again  (Jones,  Ojeb.  Ind.  p.  101).  Among  the  Maidu  in 
California  a  periodical  burning  of  gifts  in  honour  of  the  dead  of 
the  tribe  or  village  takes  place.  On  the  first  such  occasion  after 
the  death  of  a  person  an  image  representing  him  is  often  made 
of  skins,  stuffed,  and  burnt,  along  with  the  gifts  (Bull.  Am.  J/«s. 
Nat.  Hist.  xvii.  [1902]  86).  In  a  certain  Turkish  tribe  a  wooden 
image  of  every  dead  man  is  laid  in  his  grave  (AR  W  v.  31).  How 
far  effigies  like  these  may  be  identified  with  the  departed  may 
be  questioned.  In  any  case,  they  are  only  of  temporary  use,  or 
entitled  to  respect  for  a  very  limited  period.  Elsewhere,  how- 
ever, images  are  expressiy  made  as  an  embodiment  for  the  spirit. 
Among  the  Bantu  people  of  Bondei,  on  the  east  coast  of  Africa, 
when  the  head  of  a  house  dies  he  is  washed  and  shaved  by  his 
maternal  uncle.  His  hair,  finger-nails,  and  toe-nails  are  taken 
and  incorporated  in  an  earthen  image,  which  thereupon  becomes 
a  mzimu,  the  object  of  religious  rites  paid  to  the  dead  (J A  I 
xxv.  236).  On  the  islands  of  Leti,  Moa,  and  Lakor,  in  the 
Moluccas,  there  are  men  who  carve  statues  of  a  special  sort  of 
wood  for  funeral  purposes.  On  the  fifth  day  after  burial  one  of 
these  statues  is  procured,  and  the  soul  of  the  deceased  is,  by 
means  of  an  offering  of  food,  enticed  into  it  for  a  temporary 
sojourn.  It  is  implored  to  eat  and  drink,  and  to  watch  over  the 
survivors  that  no  sickness  may  betide  them.  A  general  feast  of 
the  family  follows  (Riedel,  395).  Among  the  Lolo  of  Northern 
Tongking,  with  a  stalk  of  a  kind  of  orchid  and  some  wisps  of 
paper  a  figure  of  the  deceased,  about  10  centimetres  high,  is 
made.  It  is  placed  in  the  house  between  the  wall  and  the  roof, 
or  fastened  to  one  of  the  partition-walls,  and  serves  the  purpose 
»f  an  ancestral  tablet,  such  as  the  Chinese  dedicate  (Lunet,  331). 
Examples  might  be  multiplied,  for  the  practice  is 
wide-spread.  But  at  this  point  funeral  ceremonies 
merge  into  cult  of  the  dead  (see  ANCESTOR- 
WORSHIP). 

Literature. — On  death  and  death  rites  in  general,  see  E.  B. 
Tylor,  Primitive  Culture.  London,  1871  01903),  vol.  i.  ch.  xi., 
vol.  ii.  ch.  xii. ;  J.  G.  Frazer,  '  On  certain  Burial  Customs 
as  illustrative  of  the  Primitive  Theory  of  the  Soul,'  in  J  A I 
xv.  [1886]  64-104 ;  R.  Hertz,  '  Contribution  a  une  etude  sur  la 
representation  collective  de  la  mort,'  in  ASoc  x.  [1905-6]  48-137; 
A.  van  Gennep,  Lex  Rites  de  passage,  Paris,  1909,  ch.  viii.  ; 
E.  S.  Hartland,  Legend  of  Perseus,  ii.  (London,  1895)  ch.  xiii. 
The  death  rites  of  a  particular  people  and  its  ideas  on  the  sub- 
ject of  death  must  ordinarily  be  studied  in  the  ethnographical 
accounts  of  that  people.  Many  have  been  cited  in  the  foregoing 
article.  Detailed  studies  relating  to  special  areas  have  been  made 
by  Theodor  Koch,  '  Zum  Animismus  der  siidamerikanischen 
lndianer,'  forming  the  Supplement  to  Internat.  Archiv  fur 
Ethnographie,  xiii.  [1900],  and  William  Crooke,  '  Death  Rites 
among  the  Dravidian  and  other  Non-Aryan  Tribes  of  India,'  in 
Anthropos,  iv.  [1909].    See  also  the  following  series  of  articles. 

E.  Sidney  Hartland. 
DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 

(Babylonian).  —  In  common  with  other  Semitic 
races,  the  Babylonians  regarded  the  present  life 
as  incomparably  superior  to  that  beyond  the  grave. 
It  is  not  likely  that  the  Sumerians,  whose  religion 
forms  the  principal  element  in  the  religious  ideas 
of  the  Babylonians,  differed  from  this  pessimistic 
view  of  death  so  universal  in  antiquity.  For  the 
Sumerian  period  we  have  no  direct  statement  con- 
cerning the  life  beyond  the  grave  ;  but  the  evidence 
concerning  their  burial  customs,  their  sacrifices  to 
the  dead,  their  communion  meals  with  the  souls  of 
the  dead,  etc.,  is  abundant.  The  word  employed 
by  them  for  the  soul  is  zid,  lit.  '  the  rush  of  wind,' 
and  is  translated  into  Bab.  by  napiitu,  'breath,' 
which  may  also  mean  '  throat  and  organs  of 
respiration.'  The  dread  of  death  is  revealed  in 
the  expressions  for  dying.  In  Sumerian  the  word 
is  dig,  lit.  '  to  seize  away.'  The  early  Bab.  expres- 
sion is,  '  his  god  has  gathered  him  '  (ilu-Su  ikter-Su), 
as  yet  found  only  for  women  in  the  phrase,  '  when 
her  god  gathers  her'  (see  Cuneiform  Texts  of  tlie 
Br.  Mus.1,  ii.  24,  27  ;  viii.  5a,  17  ;  12c,  18 ;  17c,  18  ; 
Meissner,  Assyr.  Stud.  iii.  [Berlin,  1905]  53; 
Schorr,  Altbab.  Rechtsurkunden,  i.  [Vienna,  1907] 
1  Hereafter  cited  as  C.T. 


85,  who  compares  Gn  258),  or  '  she  has  gone  to  hei 
fate'  (ana Hmati-Sa  illiku  [C.T.  vi.  476,  13 f.] ;  ana 
Simtim  ittalak  {Code  of  JIammurabi,  viii.  5  f.  and 
passim]),  or  '  fate  has  carried  him  away '  (iimtu 
ubbil-Su).  Ashurbanipal,  describing  the  death  of 
Tarku,  says  that  '  the  fate  of  his  night  came  upon 
him.' 

The  life  of  man  is  fleeting  and  determined  by 
the  decrees  of  the  gods  of  the  lower  world,  says 
the  poet : 

'  Build  we  an  house  for  ever  ?  seal  we  (our  tablets)  for  ever  ? 

Do  brothers  divide  their  inheritance  for  ever  ? 

Shall  hatred  exist  in  the  land  for  ever  ? 

Doth  the  river  rise  bringing  floods  for  ever? 

He  that  Bleepeth,  he  that  dieth  when  together  [they  lie  ?) 

In  death  they  preserve  not  their  (solid)  form. 

When  the  gallh l  and  the  guardsman  have  greeted  them, 

The  Anunnaki,  the  great  gods,  assemble. 

Mammit,  fashioner  of  destiny,  with  them  fixes  destiny. 

Death  and  life  they  arrange. 

But  of  death  the  day  they  make  not  known.' 2 

Thus  man,  whose  destiny  at  birth  had  already 
been  fixed  by  Mammit,  identical  with  Bau,  goddess 
of  childbirth,  must  pass  a  second  ordeal  before  the 
same  goddess  and  the  judges  of  Arallu.8 

After  mortal  dissolution  the  soul  descended  to 
Arallu,  '  the  desolate  land,'  to  pass  at  best  a  dreary 
existence,  in  the  dust  and  shadows  of  Hades.  The 
body,  in  which  the  departed  soul  had  still  a  lively 
interest,  was  either  buried  or  burned,  and  the 
kinsmen  supplied  it  with  food,  drink,  clothing, 
and  the  implements  which  characterized  the  occu- 
pation of  the  person  on  earth.  Cremation  and 
body-burial  existed  side  by  side  from  the  earliest 
times.  In  cases  of  cremation,  the  ashes,  were 
gathered  carefully  in  an  urn,  in  which  jars  of 
drink  (beer  in  the  early  period,  water  in  the  later), 
bread,  etc.,  were  placed,  to  provide  for  the  im- 
mediate needs  of  the  soul.  At  Nippur  funeral- 
urns  of  this  kind  were  found  in  the  court  of  the 
stage-tower  in  the  earliest  period  (before  3000  B.C. ). 
Two  vast  fire-necropolises  have  been  partly  exca- 
vated near  Lagash,  at  modern  Surghul  and 
el-Hibba.  Here  the  bodies  were  placed  in  narrow 
clay  casings  upon  a  brick  platform,  wrapped  with 
inflammable  material  and  covered  with  soft  clay. 
The  body  was  reduced  to  ashes  by  burning  wood 
over  the  clay  casing.  After  the  fire  was  ex- 
tinguished, a  small  hole  was  opened  in  the  clay 
casing,  which  was  now  baked  and  quite  im- 
perishable, and  the  results  of  the  cremation  were 
examined.  In  cases  where  the  heat  reduced  the 
body  to  ashes,  these  were  removed,  placed  in  an 
urn,  and  buried  in  the  family  plot.  If,  however, 
the  heat  did  not  reduce  the  body  to  ashes,  the  clay 
casing  became  the  tomb  and  was  left  in  situ.  The 
more  important  families  owned  vaults,  or  rather 
narrow  brick  rooms,  in  which  the  urns  of  the 
family  were  placed,  the  pavement  being  drained 
by  tile  sewers  descending  to  the  water  level. 
[These  sewers  were  wrongly  taken  for  wells  by 
certain  archaeologists.] 

Cremation  appears  to  have  been  the  rule  in 
certain  parts  of  ancient  Sumer  and  Akkad,  as  in 
the  region  south  of  Lagash ;  but  in  other  parts 
interment  in  coffins  and  vaults  is  more  frequent. 
In  the  case  of  those  burials  in  which  bodies  were 
committed  directly  to  the  earth  (as  represented  on 
the  Vulture  Stele,  c.  3200  B.C.,  where  soldiers  are 
buried  in  a  huge  pile,  being  covered  with  earth 
simply),  every  vestige  has  long  since  disappeared. 
Preservation  of  the  body  seems  to  have  been  a 
sentimental  rather  than  an  essential  matter ;  never- 

1  A  conductor  of  the  shades  to  the  lower  world  (cf.  Craig, 
Assyr.  and  Bab.  Religious  Texts,  Leipzig,  1S95,  lxxix.  9,  and 
Langdon,  Sumer.  Bab.  Psalms,  Paris,  1909,  pp.  314,  26). 

2  KB  vi.  1,  228. 

3  Nergal,  god  of  Arallu,  is  called  'the  god  of  investigation, 
and  of  judgment'  (C.T.  xxiv.  41,  67  f.)  ;  and  as  a  star  he  appears 
as  the  kafykab  %ip%i  mituti,  'star  of  the  judgment  of  the  dead  T 
ffi.  R.  49.  rin.  3.  40) 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Babylonian) 


446 


theless  both  Sumerian  and  Semite  exercised  much 
care  in  this  respect.  At  Ur  brick  vaults  of  con- 
siderable size  containing  several  skeletons  were 
excavated  by  Taylor.  Ordinarily  each  skeleton  is 
accompanied  by  jars,  platters  for  bread  and  food, 
the  deceased's  seal,  combs,  and,  in  case  of  women, 
even  brushes  (for  colouring  the  eyes?).  Thecheaper 
method  of  interment  consisted  in  placing  the  body 
upon  a  slightly  raised  platform  of  bricks,  which 
was  first  covered  with  a  reed  mat.  Over  the  body 
was  fitted  a  large  cover,  made  of  one  or  two  pieces 
of  baked  clay,  and  large  enough  to  admit  both  the 
body  and  the  articles  of  food  and  raiment.  Taylor 
found  round  platforms,  in  which  case  the  body  lay 
with  knees  drawn  towards  the  chest.1  A  still  more 
economical  method  of  burial  consisted  of  a  clay  or 
porcelain  coffin  of  capsule  form,  made  by  fitting 
together  two  huge  bowls.  Bodies  were  even  muti- 
lated and  crushed  into  a  huge  vase,  accompanied 
in  all  cases  by  food  and  drink.  Common  in  later 
times  is  the  bath-tub-shaped  coffin,  deep  but  not 
long,  in  which  the  body  sits  upright,  with  the  back 
against  one  end,  and  the  limbs  stretched  out  along 
the  bottom,  the  whole  being,  of  course,  protected 
with  a  clay  covering.  The  flask-shaped  coffin, 
bulging  towards  the  base,  is  common  in  the  late 
period.  The  excavators  of  Assur  found  many 
elaborate  stone  family-vaults,  probably  of  kings 
and  priestly  families.  To  each  of  these  an  opening 
at  the  west  end,  closed  by  a  stone  not  too  difficult 
to  be  moved,  made  access  to  the  vault  possible. 
Stone  staircases  led  down  to  these  openings.  At 
the  east  end  the  vaults  at  Assur  generally  con- 
tain a  small  niche  for  a  lamp.  The  Assyrians 
employed  such  vaults  both  for  body  burials,  the 
skeletons  being  found  in  orderly  rows  side  by 
side  on  the  pavement,  and  for  cinerary  urns. 
The  latter  are  cone-shaped  and  made  of  baked 
clay. 

Thus  we  see  that  cremation  was  practised  at 
all  periods — probably  for  sanitary  reasons.  The 
earliest  graves  are  found  in  the  temple  courts,  but 
these  sacred  spots  must  have  proved  altogether 
inadequate  for  the  vast  populations  of  Sumer, 
Babylonia,  and  Assyria.  The  only  practical  method 
would  be  to  set  aside  certain  parts  of  the  city  (as 
at  Ur),  or  whole  districts  (as  at  Surghul). 

The  Sumerian  word  for  the  departed  soul  is 
gidim,  '  creation  of  darkness '  (gig-dim),  which, 
by  apocopation  of  the  initial  letter,  became  idirn, 
edim,  and  passed  into  Semitic  as  edimmu.2  There 
is  no  doubt  that  the  Babylonians  regarded  the 
souls  of  the  dead  as  minor  deities,  capable  of 
interfering  for  good  and  evil  in  the  affairs  of  men. 
Whether,  in  fact,  the  entire  conception  of  divinity 
rests  ultimately  upon  the  notion  of  ancestor-worship 
cannot  be  determined  from  our  sources.  We  can 
no  longer  doubt  that  the  Bab.  conception  of  the 
devils,  spirits  of  disease  and  misfortune,  rests 
absolutely  upon  the  notion  of  evil  ghosts  which 
rise  from  hell  to  torment  humanity.  See  Demons 
and  Spirits  (Assyr.-Bab.). 

Although  the  souls  of  those  whose  bodies  were 
improperly  buried,  or  whose  memories  were  not 
cherished  at  the  parentalia,  return  to  the  earth 
and  must  be  driven  back  to  the  nether  world  by 
incantation  and  ritual,  yet  the  vast  majority  of 
souls  lead  a  shadowy  existence  in  the  dreary  land  of 
the  dead.    See  State  of  the  Dead  (Assyr.-Bab.). 

We  come  now  to  that  significant  part  of  Bab. 
religion — the  communion  with  the  souls  of  the  dead. 
We  have  seen  that  the  kinsmen  of  the  dead  pro- 
vided the  soul  with  food  and  raiment  in  the  grave. 
These  are  remnants  of  an  ancient  belief  that  the 

1  The  coffins  in  which  the  body  lay  in  a  cramped  position 
appear  to  have  been  called  napalsufyu  (v,  R.  16,  44). 

2  Possibly  connected  with  idim,  'oppressed,'  'weak  and 
miserable '  (see  Langdon,  Sumer.  Gram. ,  Paris,  1911,  p.  221). 


soul  actually  consumed  the  elements  and  wore  the 
raiment  left  for  his  use.  Although  the  Sumerians 
and  the  Babylonians  continued  to  deposit  these 
symbols  of  the  material  needs  of  man  in  the  graves 
of  the  dead,  they  soon  rose  to  a  more  spiritual  in- 
terpretation, in  which,  behind  the  symbolic  bread 
and  drink,  lay  the  mystery  of  communion  with 
the  deified  souls  and  with  Divine  life  itself.  Each 
family  seems  to  have  made  monthly  offerings  to 
the  shades  of  its  ancestors,  which  consisted  in  a 
communion  meal  at  which  images  of  the  departed 
were  present.  In  official  accounts  of  the  eariy 
period  we  find  frequent  reference  to  offerings  made 
to  the  statues  of  deceased  persons.1  A  list  of 
official  sacrifices  in  the  period  of  Saigon  of  Agade 
mentions  a  lamb  offered  to  the  statue  of  an  ancient 
Sumerian  king,  Entemena ; 2  and  Gudea,  a  later 
priest-king  (c.  2400  B.C.),  prays  for  his  own  statue 
that  it  may  receive  mortuary  sacrifice.3  Entries 
in  official  documents  occur,  stating  the  items  of 
the  monthly  sacrifice  for  the  souls  of  deceased  per- 
sons whose  service  to  the  State  had  been  great. 
This  is  especially  true  of  kings  and  priests.  More 
frequently  the  documents  mention  the  mortuary 
sacrifices  for  all  the  souls  who  have  died,  a  Feast 
of  All  Souls,  occurring  monthly  and  performed  by 
the  priests  in  various  temples.  The  word  ordi- 
narily employed  in  the  ancient  inscriptions  is 
kianag,  '  place  where  one  gives  to  drink '  ;  but 
the  notion  of  '  place '  is  often  lost,  and  the  idea  of 
drinking  is  made  to  cover  sacrifices  of  animals, 
bread,  cakes,  etc.,  as  well  as  of  liquors.  Tliat 
these  sacrifices  really  consisted  in  a  communk'ta 
meal  is  made  evident  from  one  inscription  which 
states  expressly  that  the  kianag  was  eaten. 

Another  word — also  Sumerian,  and  employed 
for  the  parentalia  less  frequently  in  the  early 
period,  but  ordinarily  by  the  Semites — is  kisig, 
'  breaking  of  bread,'  where  the  emphasis  is  laid 
upon  the  eating  of  bread  at  a  common  meal  (kispa 
kasdpu).  The  word  occurs  in  the  most  ancient 
name  of  the  fourth  month  as  sig-ba,  and  later  as 
kisig-ninazu,  or  month  of  the  breaking  of  bread 
to  Ninazu,  god  of  the  lower  world.  This  month 
was  followed  (in  the  calendar  of  Nippur)  by  the 
month  of  the  feast  of  Ninazu.  These  two  months 
correspond  with  our  December  and  January,  or 
the  period  of  greatest  darkness,  when  the  gods  of 
the  under  world,  as  deities  of  the  shades,  whither 
the  sun-god  and  the  god  of  vegetation  had  de- 
scended, were  particularly  honoured.  We  fortu- 
nately possess  a  letter  from  Ammiditana,  a  king 
of  the  first  Semitic  dynasty,  concerning  the  feast 
of  the  breaking  of  bread  for  the  fourth  month 
(December) : 

'  Unto  Sumina-ili,  son  of  Idin-Marduk,  say,  Thus  saith  Am- 
miditana :  "  Milk  and  butter  for  the  kisigga  of  the  month 
iN'enenig  are  withheld.  As  soon  as  thou  readest  this  tablet, 
may  thy  superintendent  take  30  cows  and  60  ka  of  butter  and 
come  to  Babylon.  Until  the  kisigga  is  finished,  may  he  supply 
milk.'" 

Here  we  have  direct  evidence  for  a  communion 
meal,  '  breaking  of  bread,'  for  the  souls  of  the 
dead,  permanently  adopted  by  the  Semites  at  an 
early  period.  At  Eski  Harran  an  inscription  has 
recently  been  found  containing  the  autobiography 
of  the  high  priest  of  the  temple  of  the  moon-god 
of  Harran.  In  col.  iii.  he  refers  to  the  monthly 
sacrifices  which  he  performed  for  the  souls  of  the 
departed.  After  a  reference  to  the  raiment  which 
he  wore  for  the  service  he  says  : 

'  Fat  sheep,  breads,  date  wine,  cypress  oil,  fruit  of  the 
garden  ...  I  broke i  unto  them.  As  incense  offering,  the 
choice  incense  as  a  regular  offering  I  fixed  for  them  and  placed 
before  them.' 

The  high  priest  here  performs  for  the  kinsmen 

1  Thurea.u-Ds.rigin,  Recueildetabletteschalde'ennes,  Paris,  1003, 
p.  247,  obv.  i.  12 ;  de  Genouillac,  Tablettes  archaigues,  Paris, 
1909,  p.  35,  obv.  v.  9. 

2  Constantinople,  1081,  rev.  1. 

8  Gudea  Statue,  B  7,  56.  4  akassap-mnuti. 


446 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Buddhist) 


the  sacred  ceremony  of  breaking  bread  for  the 
souls  of  the  dead.  The  expression  '  placing  incense 
before  them  '  refers  to  the  statues  of  the  departed, 
whose  souls  are  thus  represented  at  the  communion 
meal,  and  whose  portion  is  the  incense.  In  an 
incantation  service  against  evil  souls,  stools  are 
brought  for  the  souls  that  they  may  sit  at  the 
service  of  breaking  of  bread.1  Ashurbanipal  re- 
stored the  memorial  services  for  the  souls  of  his 
royal  predecessors,  of  which  he  says  :  '  The  regu- 
lations for  the  breaking  of  bread  and  the  pouring 
of  water  for  the  souls  of  the  kings  who  preceded 
me  I  arranged  for.'  2  The  king  himself  was  sup- 
posed to  perform  this  ceremony,  as  appears  from 
another  passage :  '  The  regulations  of  the  day  of 
offerings  the  king  gave  not,  but  the  high  priest 
gave.' 8  The  practice  of  pouring  water  to  the  soul 
in  connexion  with  the  common  meal  gave  rise  to 
the  title  '  pourer  of  water,'  applied  to  one's  nearest 
kinsman.  This  appears  in  the  terrible  curse  so 
common  in  the  Semitic  period,  '  May  God  deprive 
him  of  an  heir  and  a  pourer  of  water  ! '  * 

The  repose  of  the  soul,  we  may  say  even  its 
immortality,  depends  upon  the  communion  sacri- 
fice performed  monthly  for  it  by  its  kinsmen. 
Real  immortality  consists,  therefore,  in  leaving 
male  descendants  ;  and  the  prayers  of  kings  seldom 
fail  to  plead  with  the  god  for  male  lineage.  In 
actual  practice  the  family  paid  the  priests  for  per- 
forming the  ceremony  of  the  breaking  of  bread, 
and  consequently  separate  temples,  called  6-kisigga, 
or  bit  kasap  kispi,  were  built  for  this  purpose.6 
It  is  highly  probable  that  the  State  had  a  regular 
fund  to  provide  for  the  Feast  of  All  Souls,  for  we 
find  official  accounts  containing  entries  for  this 
fund  at  all  periods. 

Concerning  the  wailing  for  the  dead  our  sources 
are  meagre.  In  an  ancient  Sumerian  inscription 
there  is  a  probable  reference  to  an  official  wailer, 
whose  pay  is  mentioned  along  with  the  food  placed 
in  the  tomb.9  Wailings  at  the  death  of  a  king  are 
described  in  a  letter  of  the  period  of  Ashurbanipal. 
The  chief  great  men  clothe  themselves  in  garments 
of  mourning,  and  wear  rings  of  gold,  and  the 
official  singer  sings.'  The  burial  of  an  official  (?) 
is  reported  to  the  king  in  the  following  manner  : 

'  The  tomb  we  made ;  he  and  the  woman  of  his  palace  reat 
in  peace ;  the  psalms  (?)  8  are  ended  ;  they  have  wept  at  the 
grave  ;  a  burnt-offering  has  been  burnt ;  the  anointings  (?)  are 
all  performed ;  rites  of  loosing  in  the  house  of  washing  and 
the  house  of  baptism,  ceremonies  of  incantation,  penitential 
psalms  .  .  .  they  have  finished.'  9 

Gilgames  wailed  for  his  departed  comrade  Ea- 
bani  six  days  and  nights.10  When  the  mother  of 
Nabonidus,  last  king  of  Babylon,  died,  the  king's 
son  and  all  his  troops  put  on  mourning  and  wailed 
three  days.  The  following  month  was  entirely  de- 
voted to  official  mourning  for  the  king's  mother.11 

Traces  of  embalming  have  not  been  found,  but 
Herodotus  says  that  the  Babylonians  embalmed 
in  honey,12  and  a  text  has  been  cited  which  men- 
tions embalming  with  cedar  oil.18  At  any  rate, 
embalming  is  not  characteristic  of  Bab.  burials, 
and  the  custom  may  be  due  to  Egyptian  influence. 

Literature.— (a)  Burials.— Perrot-Chipiez,  Histoire  de 
Vart,  Paris,  1882-99,  ii.  247-378,  based  principally  upon  the 
reports  of  the  explorers  Layard  at  Nineveh,  Taylor  at  Ur  and 
Eridu,  and  Loftus  at  Warka ;  for  the  fire-necropolises  at 
Surghul  and  el-Hibba,  see  Koldewey,  ZA  ii.  (1887)  403-30 ; 


1  H.  Zimmern,  Beitrdge,  Leipzig,  1896,  pp.  106,  12-14. 

a  C.  F.  Lehmann,  Shamashshumuhin,  Leipzig,  1892,  L.8  rev.  1. 

8  King,  Chronicles,  ii.  (London,  1907)  74,  5. 

*  Memorial  Deed  of  Meliiupak,  vii.  9-11 ;  KB  iv.  86,  19 ; 
ib.  72,  iv.  20 ;  Hinke,  A  New  Boundary  Stone  of  Nebuchad- 
nezzar, Philadelphia,  1907,  p.  291. 

5  ZA  xxi.  (Heidelberg,  190S)  248,  6;  Beitrdge  zur  Assyri- 
ologie,  v.  (Leipzig,  1908)  619,  17. 

6  Urukagina,  Cone  B  ix.  S3. 

7  Harper,  Letters,  Chicago,  1900,  p.  473. 

8  taklilu,  prob.  same  root  as  tcalu,  '  psalmist.' 

9  Harper,  437.  ><>  KB  vi.  i.  224,  14. 
11  Ib.  iii.  2,  130,  13-15.  12  Herod,  i.  198. 

IS  K.  7856,  col.  i.  4,  cited  by  Meissnev,  WZKhl  xii.  [1S9S]  61. 


for  the  necropolises  at  Fara  and  Abu-Harab,  Bee  MitteU  d. 
deutschen  oriental.  Gesellschaft,  Berlin,  1896-1911 ;  for  tombs 
and  coffins  at  Babylon,  ib.  xxxvi.  12,  xxxviii.  13 ;  at  Agsur,  ib. 
xxi.  36,  xxv.  48,  55,  xxvii.  29,  xxxi.  10,  18,  xxxvi.  23,  etc.;  at 
Nippur,  H.  V.  Hilprecht,  Explorations  in  Bible  Lands,  Edin- 
burgh, 1903,  passim  (also  a  discussion  of  the  whole  subject) ; 
at  Sippar,  V.  Scheil,  Une  Saison  de  fouilles  d  Sippar,  ParU, 
1902,  p.  55  £E. 

(6)  BURIAL  CUSTOMS.  BELIEFS.  ETC.— Meissner,  Zeitsehr, 
fiir  Kunde  des  Morgenlandes,  xii.  (Vienna,  1898)  59-66 ;  A. 
Jeremias,  Leben  nach  dem  Tode:  Holle  und  Paradies  ('At. 
Orient '  i.  [1900]  8) ;  M.  Jastrow,  Rel.  of  Bab.  and  Assyria, 
Boston,  1898,  pp.  595-611 ;  S.  Langdon,  '  Bab.  Eschatology,' 
in  Theological  Essays,  New  York,  1911. 

S.  Langdon. 

DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 
(Buddhist).  —  I.  Death  inevitable  and  painful. — 
There  are  certain  questions  that  must  have  an 
absolute  and  definite  answer  (ekamsavyakaranat). 
Asa  type  of  these  the  commentators  cite:  'Will 
all  beings  (sattva)  die?  Buddha  said:  "Short,  O 
monks,  is  the  life  of  man  .  .  .  we  must  do  good  ; 
it  is  impossible  that  what  is  born  should  not  die." '  * 
In  other  words,  'Life,  indeed,  ends  in  death.'* 
'  All  men  fear  death.'8  For  death  is  accompanied 
by  physical  and  moral  suffering ;  the  formulae 
of  dependent  origination  enumerate  '  sorrow, 
lamentation,  misery,  grief,  despair'  as  the  com- 
panions of  death.4  For  death  is  only  the  begin- 
ning of  a  new  existence  for  the  punishment  of 
sins :  death  and  punishment  (danda)  are  almost 
synonymous.  It  is  in  order  to  avoid  death,  and 
the  consequent  second  death— in  order  to  gain  im- 
mortality— that  the  Hindus  practise  the  religious 
life,  the  holy  behaviour  (brahmaeharya)  which  en- 
ables one  to  pass  above  the  sun,  which  is  death 
(Brahmanas). 

If  death  inspires  fear,  it  also  generates  that 
salutary  emotion  (samvega)  which  ends  in  a  dis- 
taste for  pleasure  and  existence.  Death  must  be 
thought  of.5  Visits  to  the  'cemetery,'  the  place 
of  cremation,  or  the  place  where  dead  bodies  are 
left,  and  meditation  upon  the  corpse  and  the  various 
aspects  of  decomposition,  play  an  important  part 
in  the  spiritual  hygiene  of  the  Buddhist  monk,  be 
he  a  beginner  {navaka),  a  more  advanced  disciple 
(iaiksa),  or  a  perfect  disciple.  They  even  become 
absorbing  for  some,  who  are  called  'cemetery 
monks'  (see  Tantras).  We  find  a  number  of 
details  regarding  the  treatment  of  the  dead6  in 
the  Buddhist  texts. 

To  know  that  'life  ends  in  death,'  and  to  be 
resigned  to  this  law,  is,  as  we  learn  from  several 
conversion-stories,  to  know  the  essentials  of  Bud- 
dhist doctrine  and  to  escape  from  the  fear  and  the 
control  of  death.  To  detach  oneself  from  the  things 
of  which  death  will  deprive  one,  to  detach  oneself 
from  the  body  itself,  is  to  abolish  pain :  thus  a 
man  sutlers  when  he  sees  a  woman  whom  he  loves 
in  the  possession  of  another  man ;  he  ceases  to  suffer 

1  Abhidharmafcoiavydlckyd,  MS  of  the  Societe  Asiatique, 
356a,  7  (hereafter  cited  as  A.K.  P.). 

2  Dhammapada,  148 ;  6ee  Fausboll's  ed.  1900 ;  Max  Miiller, 
SBE  x.  [1898]  41 ;  and  H.  Oldenberg,  Buddha,  sein  Leben,  etc.s, 
Stuttgart,  1906,  p.  278. 

8  Dhammapada,  129 ;  cf.  Bodhicharydvatdra,  ix.  166 ;  MU- 
inda,  p.  145  f.  (SBE  xxxv.  206);  Siksdsamuchchaya,  p.  206; 
Jdtakamdld,  xxxi.  61,  xxxii.  (tr.  Speyer,  Garland  of  Birth 
Stories,  London,  1895  [—Sacred  Books  of  the  Buddhists,  vol.  i.]). 

4  See  P.  Oltramare,  Formule  bouddhique  des  douze  causes, 
Geneva,  1909,  p.  27 ;  Nettippakarana,  p.  29.  But  in  Digha,  ii. 
305,  and  Vibhanga,  p.  37,  sorrow,  etc.,  are  defined  as  the  conse- 
quences of  every  cause  of  suffering. 

5  See  H.  Kern,  Manual  of  Indian  Buddhism,  Strassburg, 
1896,  p.  65,  n.  6.    Cf.  and  ct.  Suttanipata,  574  f.  (SBE  x.  105). 

6  On  this  subject,  see  the  '  Chinese,' ( Japanese,'  and  '  Tibetan  * 
artt.  on  Death  and  Disposal  of  the  Dead  ;  and  cf.  Rhys  Davids, 
Buddhist  India,  London,  1903,  p.  78  ff.,  and  sources  cited,  esp. 
Digha,  ii.  295  ;  Csoma,  tr.  Feer,  Analyse  du  Kandjour,  AMG  ii. 
(Lyons,  1881)  194 ;  A.K.V.,  fol.  239 :  '  When  a  man  has  fulfilled  his 
time,  when  a  man  is  dead,  his  friends  burn  his  honoured  body 
with  fire,  or  submerge  it  in  the  sea,  or  bury  it  in  the  ground, 
or  leave  it  to  dry,  wither,  and  disappear  with  wind  and  heat. 
But  what  is  called  thought,  mind,  intellect,  being  saturated 
(or  '  informed,'  paribhdmta)  with  faith,  morality,  indifference, 
religious  instruction  (iruta),  goes  up  above,  attainB  to  a  privi- 
leged state  (viiesa),  goes  into  the  heavens.' 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  Buddhist) 


447 


whenever  he  ceases  to  love  (Majjhima,  ii.  223). 
Thus  the  saint  (arhat)  has  no  fear  of  death  (Ahgut- 
tara,  ii.  173) ;  he  awaits  his  time  without  desire 
and  without  fear  (Thcrigdthd,  196,  703 ;  see  art. 
SUICIDE  [Bud.]),  for  he  is  freed  from  desire,  he 
knows  that  this  existence  is  the  last  existence  for 
him  (Thengatha,  705 ;  Dhammapada,  39).  For 
others  death  is  only  a  passing ;  for  the  saint  it  is 
'interruption'  or  'annihilation'  (samuchchheda).1 

If  death  is  hateful  to  men,  it  is  not  less  so  to  the  gods  (devas), 
though  certain  texts  say  that  the  gods  are  perfectly  happy 
(Anguttara,  v.  291).  It  is  not  that  death  for  them  is  accom- 
panied by  the  Bufferings  of  human  death,  for  they  usually  die 
without  suffering  (A.K.V.,  fol.  2546).  But,  the  greater  the 
enjoyments  of  the  gods,  the  more  painful  it  is  for  them  to  give 
them  up ;  death  for  them  is  not '  suffering  consisting  in  suffer- 
ing,' '  suffering  of  death  '  (M ahdvyutpatli,  §  112,  4),  but  it  causes 
*  suffering  consisting  in  the  change '  to  be  accomplished  at  death 
(see  H.  C.  Warren,  Buddhism,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  1896,  p.  181).  2 
The  Brahmanic  views  are  all  alike,  or  very  similar  (see,  e.g., 
Vishnu  Purana,  vi.  5,  in  Wilson,  Works,  London,  1870,  $.  208). 

2.  Definition  of  death. — The  Buddhist  doctrine 
is  opposed  to  that  of  the  '  unbelievers '  (deniers  [of 
the  other  life]),  according  to  whom  the  intellect 
{vijiidna)  scatters  into  the  ether,  while  the  material 
elements  (bhuta)  of  the  body  return  to  the  mass  of 
the  earth,  sea,  etc.  (cf.  Digha,  i.  55 ;  Samyutta, 
iii.  207) ;  it  is  also  opposed  to  the  popular  idea  of 
the  transmigration  of  the  soul,  well  expressed  by 
comparison  with  a  bird  flitting  from  tree  to  tree 
(Sumahgala-vildsini,  p.  114  ;  S.  Hardy,  Manual  of 
Budhism,  London,  1860,  p.  390).  Death  is  the 
end  of  life — the  end  of  a  life  or  of  an  existence  (see 
below,  §  3) ;  or,  more  exactly,  death  is  the  dissocia- 
tion of  the  organism  constituted  at  birth  to  experi- 
ence the  fruits  of  a  certain  set  of  actions.  This 
organism,  both  material  and  mental,  does  not  con- 
tain a  single  stable  principle ;  it  continues  to  renew 
itself  moment  by  moment ;  in  other  words,  it  under- 
goes an  '  incessant  death '  (cf.  Warren,  Buddhism, 
p.  252  ;  Madhyamakavftti,  p.  174,  n.  4) ;  but  death 
marks  the  end  of  this  homogeneous  renewing  :  it  is 
the  separation  of  the  constituent  elements  of  the 
pseudo-individual,  the  dissociation  of  the  elements 
(skandha),  i.e.  of  the  gross  elements  (mahabhuta, 
rupakdya)  and  of  the  vijiidna,  or  intellect.3 

We  must  consider  for  a  little  this  idea  of  vijndna. 
There  is  nothing  permanent  or  individual  in  the 
complex  union  of  the  skandhas,  which  lasts  from 
birth  to  death.  Men  were  led,  however,  to  regard 
it  as  '  individualized,'  like  a  town  with  the  vijiidna 
as  master.  The  later  works  of  Abhidhamma  teach 
that,  from  the  origin  of  an  existence,  the  first 
thought,  the  thought  which  gives  rise  to  the  forma- 
tion of  the  new  being  in  the  matrix  (pratisamdhi- 
vijiidna,  'conception-intellect'),  gives  birth  to  cer- 
tain thought,  which  is  the  master  part  of  the 
existence,  and  is  called  bhavahga,  or  bhavahga- 
santati,  'existence -limb,'  'existence -limb -series,' 
because  it  is  the  limb  of  existence.4  This  thought 
evolves  into  an  uninterrupted  and  relatively  homo- 
geneous mental  series,  like  the  flow  of  a  river.  To 
look  at  it  in  a  somewhat  different  way,  this  thought 
constitutes  what  we  might  call  the  foundation  of 
the  soul,  the  support  and  origin  of  particular 
thoughts,  which  interrupt  it.  At  the  end  of  life, 
at  death,  it  disappears  by  being  transformed  into 
'thought  in  a  dying  state,'  'dying  thought,' 
'falling  or  emigrating  thought.'  Existence,  i.e. 
one  existence  in  the  series  of  existences,  is  ended 

1  See,  e.g.,  the  story  of  'Gotami  the  Thin,"  in  J.  H.  Thiessen, 
Die  Legends  von  Kudgotaml,  Breslau,  1880;  Rogers,  Buddha- 
ghosa's  Parables,  London,  1870,  p.  98  ;  E.  Hardy,  Buddhismus, 
Munster,  1890,  p.  124. 

2  See  Wenzel's  tr.  of  'Nagarjuna's  Friendly  Epistle,'  98  f., 
JPTS,  1886,  p.  27.  On  'the  rive  prognostics  announcing  death 
in  heaven"  (body  becoming  ugly,  decaying  of  flower-wreaths, 
etc.),  Wenzel  refers  to  Itiisuttaka,  %  S3,  and  Divydvaddna,  p.  193. 

sSee  Digha,  ii.  305  (  =  Warren,  p.  368);  Vimddhimagga,  in 
Warren,  pp.  241,  252 ;  Vibhay'tga,  p.  137. 

4  Abhidhammatthasaiigaha,  in  JPTS,  1S84,  p.  25;  see  S.  Z. 
Aung  and  0.  A.  P.  Rhys  Davids'  tr.  and  notes,  Compendium  of 
Philosophy,  PTS,  1910  (Index,  s.».  '  Bhavauga '). 


at  the  disappearance  of  the  bhavahga  ;  a  new  ex- 
istence commences,  in  a  new  status,  since  the 
1  thought  in  a  dying  state '  is  reflected  (we  dare 
not  say  continued) '  in  a  '  thought  in  a  state  of 
being  born.'  Death,  then,  is  the  transformation 
of  this  '  fundamental  thought '  called  bhavahga, 
'limb  of  existence,'  into  'emigrating  thought' 
(chyutichitta). 2 

'  When  the  dead  man  is  laid  out  upon  his  bed  of  death,  the 
sinful  action  for  which  he  is  responsible,  or  the  motive  (or  sign) 
of  this  action,  presents  itself  at  the  door  of  his  spirit.  Then 
there  is  inaugurated  the  series  of  rapid  intellectual  operations 
(javana  =  '  swiftness  ') which  ends  in  absorption  with  this  object 
(action  or  motive)  (taddrammana),3  and  there  is  further  pro- 
duced the  "  emigrating  thought "  depending  upon  the  bhavanga 
(bhavanga-visayam  drammanam  katvd).  When  that  disappears, 
the  "thought  in  a  state  of  being  born"  is  produced  ;  and  this, 
because  of  that  action  (or  that  motive  for  action)  which  presents 
itself  before  the  spirit,  moved  by  uninterrupted  passion,  belongs 
to  an  evil  destiny.'  4 

On  the  other  hand,  death  is  often  regarded  as 
the  end  of  a  particular  organ  or  sense,  the  jiviten- 
driya,  the  vital  sense.  Life,  the  activity  of  the 
organs,  '  the  persistence,  subsistence,  going  on  .  .  . 
of  the  bodily  and  mental  functions  or  states '  pre- 
supposes a  'vital  organ'5  supporting  the  living 
complex  as  the  water  supports  the  lotus,  and 
playing  a  part  analogous  to  that  assigned  by  the 
vedanta  school  to  the  'principal  breath'  (or 
'  breath  in  the  mouth,'  mukhya  prana).6  Death, 
therefore,  will  be  '  the  interruption  of  the  series 
[of  evolution]  of  the  vital  organ  corresponding  to 
a  given  existence '  (Nettippakarana,  p.  29).7 

Leaving  out  of  consideration  the  schools  which  pay  little 
attention  to  the  'vital  sense,'  some  schools  do  not  make  it 
die  at  death.  The  theologians  who  admit  an  'intermediate 
state '  (antarabhava)  between  two  existences  properly  so  called 
assign  a  special  rdle  to  the  '  vital  sense  'in  the  mechanism  of 
transmigration.  '  Life '  would  then  be  prolonged  from  existence 
to  existence,  as  long  as  these  continue  to  be  existences  be- 
longing to  the  same  category  (nikdya-sabhdga)  (after  A.K.  P., 
Burnouf  MS,  68a). 

The  schools  are  not  agreed  as  to  the  nature  of  the  jivitendriya, 
as  may  be  seen  from  Kathdvatthu,  viii.  10.  Pali  theology  appears 
to  regard  it  as  the  eighteenth  term  of  the  rupakkhanaa  (S. 
Hardy,  Manual,  p.  399).  But  the  Dhammasamgani  treats  it  suc- 
cessively as  mental  and  as  material  (rupa).  The  Abhidharma- 
ko$a  makes  it  an  arupa  chittaoiprayukta,  '  immaterial,  having 
no  connexion  with  thought '  (see  Dharmasamgraha,  p.  69),  as 
do  also  the  Yogacharas  (see  Musion,  vi.  [1905]  i78  f.). 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  *  life'  is  attributed  to  the  body 
(A.K.  V.  313a  :  '  The  body  lives  when  it  is  endowed  with  sense 
(sendriya),  i.e.  life  is  of  the  body  endowed  with  sense,  and  not 
of  a  soul  (dtman) :  and  it  is  the  body  [and  not  a  soul]  which, 
when  robbed  of  sense,  is  called  "dead"').  By  '  Bense '  or 
'Benses'must  be  understood  either  the  organs  of  sense  which 
depend  upon  the  jivitendriya,  or  the  jivitendriya,  which  is  just 
the  same  as  the  kdyendriya,  'body-sense.'  The  working  and 
persistence  of  the  intellect  (vijiidna)  depend  upon  the  kdyen. 
driya,  which,  at  death,  perishes  in  various  parts  of  the  body 
according  to  the  state  in  which  re-birth  is  to  take  place :  in  the 
feet  for  a  future  damned  soul,  in  the  navel  for  a  future  man,  in 
the  heart  for  a  future  god  .  .  .  (A.K.  V.  254a  ;  cf.  and  ct.  Beal, 
Catena  of  Buddhist  Scriptures,  London,  1871,  p.  41 ;  see  also 
Rhvs  Davids,  Buddhist  India,  p.  254f. ;  Oldenberg,  Buddha5, 
p.  265). 

Instead  of  jivita,  jivitendriya,  we  sometimes  find 
the  terms  dyus,  '  life,'  and  usman,  '  heat ' — a 
popular  conception  of  life.8  '  What  is  the  ground 
of  persistence  or  continuity  of  the  five  senses  ? ' — 
'  Life '— '  And  of  life  ? '— '  Heat '— '  And  of  heat  ?  '— 
•Life.'  (Just  so  the  radiance  of  a  lamp  depends 
on  its  flame,  and  vice  versa  [Majjhima,  i.  295].) 
Similarly,  death  is  defined  as  the  disappearance 

1  We  read,  however,  in  A.K. V.  213a;  'the  " conceptional " 
state  (at  conception),  upapattibhava,  forms  a  series  with  the 
"  mortal  "  state  (at  death).' 

2  There  is  no  death  without '  emigrating  thought,'  therefore 
trance  or  rapture  is  an  obstacle  to  death  (cf.  Dhammapada, 
ed.  FausboII,  Copenhagen,  1855,  p.  299). 

s  See  Aung. Davids,  Compendium,  pp.  29,  74,  'registering,  or 
identifying,  of  the  object.' 

4  Visuddhimagga,  xvii.  1133-1139  (from  proofs  kindly  lent  by 
C.  Lanman).  See  C.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids,  Buddhist  Psychology, 
London,  1900,  pp.  132,  134 ;  Compendium,  p.  150  f. 

5  See  C.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids,  Psychology,  19,  192 ;  S.  Hardy, 
Manual,  402. 

fi  Jivitendriyam  vd  prdna  iti  (A.K.V.  313a;  cf.  BodMchary- 
dvatdrapafljikd,  p.  487). 

7  Cf.  Visuddhimagga,  xvi.  ad  fin.  (JPTS,  1891,  p.  137). 

8  P.  Oltramare,  op.  cit.  p.  28;  and  C.  A.  Foley,  in  JBAS, 
1894,  p.  328. 


448 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Buddhist) 


of  heat  (Mahavyutpatti,  §  245,  53).  An  ancient 
stanza  associates  the  intellect  (vijiiana)  with  ayus 
and  usman.1  The  Dignaga  school  defines  death 
as  the  '  destruction  of  the  vijndna,  of  the  organ, 
and  of  life,'  and  claims  authority  from  this  defini- 
tion to  deny  (in  opposition  to  the  Jains)  that  trees 
'  die. ' 

In  the  old  version  of  the  '  last  days  of  the  Buddha '  (Digha,  ii. 
106;  SBE  xi.  44),  it  is  said:  'The  Blessed  One  rejected  the 
ayusainkhdra '  (according  to  Rhys  Davids  =  ■  the  rest  of  his 
allotted  sum  of  life  ')•  In  the  Sanskrit  sources  (Divydvaddna, 
p.  203  ;  Mahavyutpatti,  §  235,  62)  we  have  :  '  The  Blessed  One 
enters  such  concentration  of  thought  as  to_  control  his 
"  vitality-virtualities "  ( jivitasamskdrdn  adhisfhaya),  and  he 
begins  to  reject  his  "life-virtualities"  (dyuhsamskdrdn).'  The 
plural  ('virtualities,'  '  co-efficients  of  life ')  indicates,  according 
to  a  commentator,  that  life  is  not  one  thing  but  a  collectivity. 
The  Sautrantikas  say  that  dyus,  'life,'  means  the  multiple 
samskdras  which  co-exist  (having  for  nature  the  four  or  five 
skandhas).  and  is  nothing  beyond  these  samskdras  (A.K.V., 
fol.  74).  The  Majjhima  (i.  296)  enumerates  the  dyusainkharas 
as  follows :  ayus,  heat,  and  intact  senses,  which  disappear  at 
death,  but  persist  in  life  even  when  plunged  into  the  deepest 
ecstasies  (see  Warren,  p.  389). 

As  to  the  vital  breath  (prana),  it  is  a  wind  (vayu) 
which  depends  on  both  the  body  and  the  thought — ■ 
for  it  disappears  during  the  so-called  '  cessation- 
trance'  ecstasy  (Sarvastivadin  AbhidharmaAastra, 
quoted  A.K.V.  312;  see  Rhys  Davids,  Dialogues 
of  the  Buddha,  i.  71,  London,  1899-1910  [=  Sacred 
Books  of  the  Buddhists,  vol.  ii.]).  Although  the 
Buddhists  deny  the  existence  of  a  pranin,  anima, 
'being  endowed  with  breath,'  they  use  this  ex- 
pression ;  but,  for  them,  to  kill  a  pranin  is  only  to 
stop  the  future  production  of  the^Jrana. 

3.  Duration  of  life. — What  is  meant  by  an 
existence,  atm.abha.va,  and  why  is  the  eternal 
transmigration  divided  into  this  succession  of  frag- 
ments called  lives  or  existences  ?  Actions  are  by 
nature  very  variable,  and  very  different  actions 
are  performed  by  the  same  person ;  in  strict 
language — for  Buddhism  does  not  admit  of  the 
existence  of  a  person,  of  an  author  of  actions — 
actions  very  different  from  each  other  are  '  caused ' 
in  one  and  the  same  series  of  states  of  consciousness, 
and  must  be  rewarded  in  the  same  series.  It  is 
necessary,  then,  that  the  agent  (to  use  a  convenient 
expression)  should  pass  through  varying  condi- 
tions,— god,  man,  animal,  damned, — for  it  is  not 
the  nature  of  actions  to  get  their  reward  in  any 
state  whatever.  And,  by  a  mechanism  which  will 
be  explained  in  art.  Karma,  a  certain  existence 
(atmabhava)  falls  to  the  lot  of  the  agent,  as  the 
reward  for  a  certain  set  of  actions,2  and  this 
existence  will  be  followed  by  another  determined 
in  the  same  way.  Death  marks  the  moment  of 
the  exhaustion  of  the  actions  called  to  'ripen,' 
to  fructify  in  some  one  existence,  and  of  the 
maturity  of  actions  called  to  ripen  in  the  next 
existence. 

In  certain  states  of  existence  the  length  of  life 
is  fixed  ;  the  number  of  actions  to  be  rewarded  in 
the  course  of  a  divine  existence  of  a  certain  class 
always  corresponds  exactly  with  the  normal  length 
of  life  of  the  gods  of  this  class  (see  Cosmogony 
and  Cosmology  [Buddhist]) ;  the  god  will  die  at 
the  exhaustion  of  the  meritorious  actions  to  be 
rewarded  and  the  exhaustion  of  life.  But  it  may 
happen  that  a  life  ends  by  the  exhaustion  of  the 
actions,  before  the  normal  time :  if,  e.g.,  a  certain 
good  action  has  caused  a  certain  divine  existence, 
and  is  not  good  enough  to  prolong  this  existence 
against  the  influence  of  evil  actions  striving  to 
ripen.  It  is  also  possible  to  die  by  the  exhaustion 
of  life,  without  the  merit  being  exhausted  :  in  this 
case,  re-birth  takes  place  into  a  condition  similar 
to  that  just  left.  Lastly,  if  one  commits  one  of  the 
sins  demanding  immediate  retribution  (anantarya) 
and  immediate  dispatch  into  hell,  one  dies  without 
the  exhaustion  of  the  vital  forces :  the  retribution  of 

1  Samyutla,  iii.  143;  and  A.K.V.,  Burnouf  MS,  4536.. 

2  Cf.  the  ayuskakarman  of  the  Jains  (SBE  xlv.  165,  192). 


the  set  of  actions,  begun  at  birth,  is  interrupted 
by  an  '  action  cutting  oft'  [the  fruit  of]  action.' ' 

Death  is  called  '  timely '  (kalamarana)  when  it 
occurs  at  the  end  of  a  life  of  normal  duration  (see 
Ages  of  the  World  [Bud.],  vol.  i.  p.  189).  It 
may  be  caused  by  a  trouble  of  the  bile  (the  essential 
fire-element  of  the  body),  of  the  phlegm  (water- 
element),  or  the  wind,  either  singly  or  all  together : 
there  are,  therefore,  four  illnesses ;  for  every  class 
of  illness,  there  are  100  deaths  '  before  the  time ' 
(akalamrtyu) 2  and  one  timely  death  :  or  else  there 
are  404  illnesses  causing  death  (Bodhicharyava- 
tarapaiijika,  ii.  55;  A.K.V.  2546).  A  kindred 
expression  to  aktilamrtyu  is  antaramrtyu  or  anta- 
rena  kalakriya,  '  death  during  the  time,  during 
the  course  of  the  normal  duration  of  life ' :  a 
death,  which,  according  to  certain  sources,  occurs 
even  in  the  arupya,  and  in  all  stages  of  exist- 
ence, except  among  the  Uttarakurus  (A  bhidharma- 
koia).  According  to  the  Sautrantikas  (A.K.V., 
fol.  218),  it  is  a  mistake  to  explain  the  phrase 
antaraparinirvayin  with  certain  (Pali)  scholars 
as  meaning  '  a  saint  who  attains  to  nirvana, 
by  antaramrtyu,  during  the  course  of  a  heavenly 
existence,  and  before  the  close  of  this  existence.' 
The  reference  is  to  a  saint  who  attains  nirvana  in 
the  intermediate  period  between  two  existences 
(antarabhava). 

The  Buddhists  believed  that,  just  as  the  saint 
can  abandon  the  '  co-efficients  of  life '  (see  preced- 
ing column),  so  he  can  also  stop  them  (sthapayati). 
According  to  the  Vaibhasikas  (A.K.V.,  Burnouf 
MS,  fol.  74),  the  saint  says :  '  May  [the  action] 
that  is  to  ripen  for  me  in  enjoyment  ripen  'in  life  ! ' 
By  its  nature,  life  (or  the  vital  organ)  is  '  ripening ' 
(vipaka),  and  it  can  replace  any  enjoyment  which, 
normally,  ought  to  ripen  from  a  former  merit,  and 
which  the  saint  no  longer  desires  and  has  escaped 
by  his  sainthood.  By  this  process,  'vanquishing 
death,'  the  Buddha  prolonged  his  life  three  months 
for  the  salvation  of  men,  and  the  disciples  em- 
ploy this  to  assure  the  duration  of  the  law. 

This  term  of  three  months  seems  to  he  given  as  a  maximum, 
and  as  the  mark  of  the  victory  of  the  Buddha  over  Mrtyumdra, 
*Mdra(  = death,  Satan),  who  is  death.'  The  'dominion  of  death,' 
which  is  a  '  dominion  of  life '  (Mahavyutpatti,  §  27,  1),  is  much 
more  powerful  in  the  Mahdparinibbana  (Digha,  ii.  103  =  SBE 
xi.  42),  and  in  Siksdsamuchchaya,  p.  189,  where  the  Bodhisattvas 
enjoy  a  life  of  almost  infinite  length  by  the  protection  of  the 
Buddhas  and  '  deities '  (devatas). 

4.  The  last  thought  and  re-birth. — Most  of  the 
Hindu  theologians  teach  that  the  last  thought, 
the  thought  of  the  dying,  is  of  prime  importance 
with  regard  to  the  future  lot.8  This  doctrine  is 
particularly  dear  to  the  devout  sects  :  thinking  of 
Krsna  on  the  death-bed  assures  salvation.  The 
Brahmans  everywhere  believe  as  a  rule  that  the 
Lord  (isvara)  establishes  the  moral  balance-sheet 
of  the  whole  life,  in  order  that  the  agent  may 
be  re-born  into  the  world  at  the  proper  stage.  In 
conformity  with  their  psychology  and  their  meta- 
physics, the  Buddhists  have  to  assign  capital  im- 
portance to  the  last  thought.  For  not  only  do 
they  refuse  to  admit  a  Lord,  judge  of  all  the 

1  See  Abhidhammasatigaha,  v.  12  (JPTS,  1884,  p.  25); 
Visuddhimagga,  in  Warren,  p.  252 ;  Sumangalavildsini,  p. 
110. 

2  The  Saivite  Buddhists  have  made  a  deity  of  '  premature 
death '  (Wilson,  Works,  ii.  24). 

3  See,  e.g.,  Bhagavad-GUa,  viii.  5  f.  (A.  Barth,  Religions  0/ 
India,  London,  1891,  p.  227 ;  R.  Garbe,  Bhagavadgitd  ubersetzt 
.  .  .  Leipzig,  1905,  p.  52) :  '  Remembering  whatever  form  of 
being  he  in  the  end  leaves  this  body,  into  that  same  form  he 
ever  passes,  assimilated  to  its  being  '  (Thibaut,  Veddntasutras, 
iv.  1,  12=SBE  xxxviii.  352);  '  Whatsoever  being  a  man  at  his 
end  in  leaving  the  body  remembers,  to  that  same  he  always 
goes,  inspired  to  being  therein '  (L.  D.  Barnett,  The  Lord's 
Song,  London,  1905).  See  also  the  sources  cited  in  Veddnta- 
sutras, loc.  cit.,  and  Cowell,  tr.  of  Aphorisms  of  Sd^ilya, 
Calcutta,  1S7S,  §  81  ;  for  the  Jain  sect,  see  Majjhima,  i.  376. 
Folk-lore  is  abundant  on  this  subject ;  see,  e.g.,  Katha-saril- 
sdgara,  tr.  Tawney,  1880,  i.  242,  and  passim.  Rhys  Davids 
compares  Plato,  Phoedo,  69  (Indian  Buddhism,  London,  1881, 
App.  viii.,  Dialogues  of  the  Buddha,  i.  298). 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Buddhist) 


44S 


actions  of  a  life,  but  they  do  not  even  admit  of  a 
permanent  soul  which  would  be  responsible  for  all 
the  actions.  At  the  time  of  death,  all  that  exists 
is  the  '  dying  thought '  (chyutichitta)  and  the 
'skandhas  (dispositions,  etc.),  which  come  to  an 
end  at  death.'1  The  're-birth  thought'  (prati- 
samdhi",  upapattichitta) — and  the  skandhas  asso- 
ciated with  it — can  be  determined  only  by  the 
'  dying  thought,'  which  it  continues.  Hence  it 
follows  that,  if  the  mental  state  at  death  is  good, 
a  pleasant  birth  will  take  place ;  if  it  is  bad,  an 
unpleasant  one.  The  agent  will  be  re-born  into 
the  spheres  of  desire,  matter,  non-matter  (see 
COSMOGONY,  etc.  [Bud.]),  according  to  the  fulcrum 
(alambana)  of  the  last  thought  (Abhidhamma- 
sahgaha,  v.  12-13  [  JPTS,  1884,  p.  25]) ;  and  '  to  die 
with  the  thought  fixed  on  space  [or  the  void] '  is 
to  obtain  nirvana  (Madhyamakavrtti,  p.  53). 

But,  if  the  last  thought  (or  last  action)  is, 
according  to  the  principle  of  the  Buddhist  system, 
the  sole  determining  cause  of  the  future  life,  good 
sense  and  equity  require  that  the  previous  thoughts 
(or  merit)  should  come  into  account  in  the  retri- 
bution. Buddha  was  very  categorical  on  this 
point.  The  conclusion  arrived  at  will  be  that,  if 
the  last  thought,  in  the  quality  of  act  '  close  at 
hand'  (asanna),  determines  the  future  life,  the 
latter  may  be  conditioned  by  other  acts,  important 
from  other  points  of  view. 

The  difficulty  or  contradiction  may  be  resolved 
by  affirming  that  the  last  thought  is  the  resultant 
of  the  life  or  of  a  former  act  which,  by  its  import- 
ance or  repetition,  has  to  be  rewarded  in  the  next 
existence : 

'  It  is  at  the  moment  of  death  (chyuti,  '  fall  of  thought ')  and 
of  re-birth  that  the  thoughts  are  enabled  to  ripen'  (A.K.V., 
Burnouf  MS,  fol.  112M.  '  The  Earman  remembered  at  death 
springs  up  in  re-birth  '  and  is  therefore  named  '  close  at  hand.' 

At  death  the  mental  working  is  weak  and  dull ; 
therefore  any  passion  which  has  been  intense  or 
habitual  during  life  enters  upon  a  state  of  activity 
(A.K.V.  249a).  In  short,  the  treatises  of  Abhi- 
dharma  teach  that  the  object  of  the  last  thought  is 
either  present  ( pachchupanna)  or  past  (atita),  being 
determined  both  by  the  life  that  is  completed,  and 
by  the  state  in  which  it  is  proper  (by  reason  of  this 
life  or  of  even  earlier  merits)  for  the  new  life  to 
be  passed.  It  is,  therefore,  by  the  '  force  of  the 
merit '  that  there  presents  itself  to  the  spirit  of 
the  dying  either  the  action  (accomplished  previ- 
ously by  him)  which  is  to  determine  the  re-birth  2 
(and  above  all  others  the  '  heavy '  action,  guru, 
the  reward  of  which  comes  before  all  others 
[A.K.V. ,  Burnouf  MS,  fol.  482]),  or  the  object 
(sensation,  etc.)  experienced  at  the  time  of  per- 
forming the  action,  or  the  motive  or  means  of  the 
action,  or,  lastly,  the  picture  of  the  state  about  to 
be  reached  by  the  re-birth,  the  sign  of  the  future 
lot.3 

But  this  theory,  that  the  last  thought  is  the 
resultant  of  the  life,  is  discouraging  to  piety.  It 
is  certainly  the  opinion  of  the  Buddhist  that  we 
should  not  wait  for  death  to  become  '  converted,' 
for  the  agonies  and  suffering  of  the  last  moment 
make  thought  very  feeble  (Bodkicharyavatara) ; 
the  good  thoughts  of  the  last  hour  are  by  nature 
very  weak  :  they  may  procure  a  little  of  paradise, 

1  See  Madhyamakavftti,  p.  228  f.,  and  sources  cited. 

2  See  Surangamasutra  quoted  from  the  Chinese  by  Beal, 
Catena,  p.  43  :  '  At  the  end  of  life,  before  losing  animal  heat, 
the  good  and  the  evil  deeds  are  summoned  up,  as  it  were,  in  a 
moment.'  Then  the  dying  one  thinks  of  his  sin  and  of  his  good 
action,  and,  by  a  process  well  described  by  N&gasena  (Milinda, 
p.  297,  tr.  Rhys  Davids,  SBE  xxxvi.  155),  becomes  absorbed 
into  the  sin  committed,  even  while  regretting  it. 

3  Aung  and  0.  Rhys  Davids,  op.  cit.  p.  149.  See  Avatamsaka- 
sutra,  quoted  by  Beal,  op.  cit.  44  :  'If  he  possesses  a  bad 
karman,  he  beholds  all  the  miseries  attending  a  birth  in  hell 
.  .  .  he  sees  the  infernal  lictors.'  Cf.  the  '  death  of  the  sinner ' 
in  the  Bodkicharyavatara  of  Santideva,  ii.  41  (Poussin's  tr., 
Introd.  d  la  pratique  des  futurs  Bouddhas,  Paris,  1907,  p.  41 ; 
L.  D.  Barnett's  tr.,  Path  of  Light,  London,  1909,  p.  42). 

VOL.  IV. 2Q 


but  they  cannot  prevent  a  fall  back  into  hell 
immediately  after,  if  it  is  merited  (Spence  Hardy, 
Manual,  p.  489).  But  numerous  writings  show 
that  the  last  thought  is  not  always  determined 
beforehand,  that  it  is  possible  to  prepare  oneself 
and  others  for  death,  and  to  make  sure  of  a  good 
re-birth  by  helping  the  '  production  of  good  dis- 
positions.' 

We  may  quote  some  examples.  Milinda  says  :  '  Your  people 
[Buddhists]  say  .  .  .  that,  though  a  man  should  have  lived  a 
hundred  years  an  evil  life,  yet  if,  at  the  moment  of  death, 
thoughts  of  the  Buddha  should  enter  his  mind,  he  will  be 
re-born  among  the  gods.  .  .  .  And  thus  do  they  also  say  :  "  By 
one  case  of  destruction  of  life  a  man  may  be  re-born  in  purga- 
tory." '  When  asked  il  this  was  not  a  contradiction,  Nagarjuna 
replies  :  '  Would  even  a  tiny  stone  float  on  the  water  without  a 
boat?  .  .  .  Would  not  a  hundred  cart-loads  of  stone  float  on 
the  water  if  they  were  loaded  in  a  boat  ?  .  .  .  Well,  good  deeds 
are  like  the  boat '  (Milinda,  p.  80,  tr.  Rhys  Davids.  SBE  xxxv 
123  f.). 

Mahamoggallana  sees  a  poor  wretch,  condemned  to  death, 
to  whom  the  compassionate  Sulasa  has  just  given  some  cakes 
He  thinks  :  (  This  man,  with  no  merits,  a  sinner,  will  be  re-born 
in  hell ;  if  he  gives  me  these  cakes,  he  will  be  re-born  among 
the  terrestrial  deities.'  He  presents  himself  before  the  con- 
demned man,  who  thinks,  '  What  is  the  good  of  eating  these 
cakes  ?  If  I  give  them  away,  they  will  serve  me  as  a  viaticum 
for  the  other  world.'  But,  as  he  thinks  also  with  affection  of 
Sulasa  :  '  It  is  through  Sulasa's  kindness  that  I  was  in  posses- 
sion of  this  alms,'  his  thought,  purified  by  the  gift  to  the  saint 
and  soiled  by  this  affection,  causes  him  to  be  re-born  as  a  tree- 
deity  (inferior  deity)  (Petavatthu,  Commentary,  p.  6). 

The  deities  of  the  gardens,  the  woods,  the  trees,  and  plants 
crowd  around  the  master  of  the  house,  Chitta,  who  is  very  ill : 
•Make  your  resolution,  utter  your  prayer:  "May  I  be  a 
chakravartin  king  in  a  next  existence  "  '  (Samyutta,  iv.  302  ; 
cf.  Rhys  Davids,  Early  Buddhism,  London,  1908,  p.  77). 

A  man  is  stained  (sdngana)  ;  he  acknowledges  his  stain  and 
does  his  utmost  by  prayer,  effort,  and  exertion  to  wipe  it  out ; 
he  will  die  free  from  attachment,  from  hate,  from  error,  and 
from  stain,  with  pure  thought.  A  man  is  free  from  stain  ;  he 
knows  it ;  he  then  conceives  complacence,  and,  through  this, 
attachment  enters  into  his  thought;  he  will  die  re-clothed  in 
attachment,  hate,  error,  stain,  with  impure  thought  (M ajjhima. 

The  Buddhists  began  early  to  think  of  prepara- 
tion for  death.  Aioka  grants  three  days  for  this 
purpose  to  the  damned  (Pillar-Edict,  iv. ;  see  V.  A. 
Smith,  Asoka,  Oxford,  1901,  p.  165).  The  Maha- 
vagga  commands  the  monks  to  attend,  even  during 
the  rainy  season,  at  the  bed  of  a  sick  layman  (iii. 
5,  9  =  SBE  xiii.  304).  The  Visuddhimagga  (xvii. 
line  1190)  explains  the  ceremonies  performed  for 
the  dying.  The  friends  say  to  him  :  '  We  are 
about  to  perform  the  piija  (cult)  of  Buddha  for 
you,  quiet  your  spirit  [in  Buddha].'  The  puja 
includes  flowers,  etc.  (rupa,  '  form  '  or  '  colour  '). 
'  See  this  offering  we  are  making  for  you,'  they 
say  to  the  sick  man — the  recitation  of  texts  and 
music  (sadda,  'sound')  .  .  .,  perfumes  (gandha, 
'smell'),  honey,  etc.  (rasa,  'taste'),  and  cloths 
(potthabba,  '  tangible  ')— '  Touch  this  offering.' 
Thus  by  the  five  senses  the  impressions  penetrate 
which  will  he  the  object  of  the  last  thought. 

Spence  Hardy  (Manual,  489)  tells  the  story  of  a  fisher  who 
is  made  to  recite  the  five  precepts  by  a  monk  ('  I  renounce 
murder  '...),  and  this  wins  a  heavenly  re-birth  for  him  ;  and, 
when  he  recites  them  again  in  his  last  moments,  he  obtains 
re-birth  among  the  higher  gods. 

Tantrism  substitutes  formula  in  abracadabra  for  the  'thought 
of  the  Buddha '  and  the  repetition  of  precepts  :  the  om  mani 
padme  hum  plays  a  great  part  (see  C.  F.  Koppen,  Die  Religion 
des  Buddha,  pt.  ii.  '  Die  lamaische  Hierarchie,'  Berlin,  1859, 
p.  59) ;  the  cults  of  Amitabha  substitute  the  repetition  of 
ejaculatory  invocations  to  Avalokitesvara  or  Amita :  'Whoso- 
ever shall  have  heard  the  name  of  Buddha  Bhaisajyaguru,  to 
him  will  eight  Bodhisattvas  come  at  the  moment  of  death  to 
show  him  the  way  [to  paradise] '  (Siksasamuchchaya,  p.  175). 
In  Karandavyuha  (Calcutta,  1873),  pp.  23,  95,  twelve  Buddhas 
surround  the  dying ;  in  Sukhdvativyuha  (Oxford.  1883),  p.  47 
(=SBE  xlix.  45),  Amitabha  himself  appears  surrounded  by 
[magic]  monks.  '  Seeing  Bhagavat,  their  thought  is  quieted, 
and,  falling  from  this  world,  they  are  born  in  Paradise '  (cf. 
Samadhirdja,  iv.,  at  the  end).  In  Samyutta,  iv.  302,  it  is  the 
forest-deities  who  care  for  the  dying  man  and  suggest  to  him 
the  wish  for  such  and  such  a  re-birth.l 

Literature. — This  is  given  throughout  the  article. 

L.  DE   LA  VALLEE   POUSSIN. 

1  We  need  not  spend  time  over  the  acts  and  ceremonies  for 
the  benefit  of  the  dead.  Some  bibliographical  indications  may 
be  useful.  Pali  sources  (gifts  for  the  dead) :  Anguttara,  v. 
296,  Petavatthu,  i.  6  (Paramatthadipani,  pt.  UL  pp.  23,  35), 


450 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Chinese; 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 
(Chinese). — The  Chinese  discriminate  between  pre- 
mature death  and  the  inevitable  ending  of  the 
term  of  natural  life.  The  pictograni  for  untimely 
death  is  composed  of  the  radical  denoting  '  evil ' 
(originally  depicting  the  cutting  up  of  bones)  and 
that  for  'man,'  the  combination  being  interpreted 
by  S.  Wells  Williams  (Syllabic  Diet.,  Shanghai, 
1889,  p.  836)  as  'the  evil  which  parts  men.'  The 
character  thus  formed  is  explained  as  conveying 
the  idea  of  '  the  running  out  of  the  vital  issues,' 
*  the  emptying  out  of  the  breath ' ;  whilst  that  for 
normal  death,  i.e.  in  old  age,  represents  the  end 
of  a  cocoon  or  ball  of  silk.  The  express  mention 
of  death  is  generally  avoided,  the  Chinese  prefer- 
ring to  employ  some  euphemistic  phrase  such  as 
'  passed  away,  '  returned  to  Heaven,'  '  no  more,' 
etc.,  or  sometimes  an  expressive  gesture — the  hands 
tightly  clenched,  and  the  head  thrown  slightly 
back. 

The  customs  which  prevail  in  different  parts  of 
China  in  connexion  with  the  treatment  of  the 
dying  and  the  disposal  of  the  dead  are  so  dis- 
similar that  a  complete  statement  of  them  would 
be  impossible  ;  it  will  be  sufficient  to  describe  the 
observances  which  may  be  regarded  as  fairly 
characteristic.  The  details  which  follow  do  not 
apply  in  the  case  of  children  and  unmarried 
persons.  In  these  instances  the  dead  are  dis- 
posed of  with  as  little  ceremony  as  possible ;  in 
many  cases  the  bodies  of  infants  are  simply  rolled 
up  in  a  coarse  wrapper  of  matting,  and  deposited 
in  a  convenient  spot  of  open  ground,  perhaps  in 
a  '  baby  tower '  specially  intended  for  the  purpose. 

The  conduct  of  funeral  rites  is  described  as  early 
as  the  Chow  dynasty  (1122-255  B.C.),  and  it  is 
evident  that  burial1  has  always  been  the  mode 
adopted  for  the  disposal  of  the  dead.  In  the 
Chinese  sense  this  does  not  consist  in  the  lowering 
of  the  remains  into  a  dug-out  grave,  but  in  the 
placing  of  them  in  a  sarcophagus  upon  the  surface 
of  the  ground,  and  the  piling  up  of  earth  in  the 
form  of  a  mound,  as  a  result  of  the  annual  visits 
to  the  place  of  interment.  It  was  usual  in  early 
times  to  place  in  the  coffin  certain  articles  which 
the  deceased  valued  during  life  ;  and  specimens  of 
jade,  chess-men,  etc.,  are  frequently  discovered  in 
ancient  tombs.  In  the  case  of  kings  it  was  often 
difficult  to  ascertain  where  the  royal  corpse  was 
actually  buried,  as  sometimes  a  number  of  separate 
ooffins  were  interred  in  different  places,  each 
nominally  containing  the  '  remains '  of  the  late 
monarch,  in  order  to  render  more  remote  the 
possibility  of  rifling  the  tomb. 

The  custom  of  immolating  a  number  of  slaves  or 
relatives  of  the  deceased  was  sometimes  practised 
in  China.  Cases  are  quoted  as  early  as  the  10th 
cent.  B.C.,  as,  e.g.,  that  of  the  Duke  Muh,  at  whose 
funeral  some  177  persons  were  buried  alive.  Re- 
ferences to  the  practice  are  found  in  the  time  of 
Confucius  (551-478  B.C.),  and  even  as  late  as  the 
present  dynasty  an  instance  is  quoted  in  connexion 
with  the  Emperor  Shun-che  (A.D.  1644-1661).  The 
burning  of  paper  effigies  of  servants  and  attendants 

Milinda,  p.  294  (SBE,  xxxvi.  161) ;  Oldenberg,  Rel.  des  Veda, 
tr.  V.  Henry,  Paris,  1903,  p.  479.  Great  Vehicle  :  J.  J.  M.  de 
Groot,  Code  du  Mahdydna  en  Chine,  Amsterdam,  1893,  p.  97 
(tr.  and  comm.  of  the  Brahmajdlasutra,  Nanjio,  no.  1087), 
Sectarianism  and  Rel.  Persecution  in  China,  Amsterdam, 
1903,  i.  231  ;  Buddhist  Masses  for  the  Dead  at  Amoy  (Congress 
at  Leyden,  and  AMG  xi.-xii.  [1886])  ;  S.  Beal,  Catena  of  Bud. 
Scriptures,  p.  33  ;  J.  Edkins,  Chinese  Buddhism  (London,  1880, 
and  AUG  iv.),  p.  225  ;  E.  ChavanneB,  Melanges  Earlez,  Leyden, 
1896,  p.  79.  For  Tibet :  L.  A.  Waddell,  Lamaism,  London,  1896, 
p.  488. 

1  The  practice  of  cremation  is  repugnant  to  the  Chinese  view 
of  the  necessity  of  preserving  the  body  intact  as  far  as  possible, 
and  is  employed  only  in  the  case  of  Buddhist  monks  and 
nuns,  though  historical  references  may  be  cited  in  proof  of  its 
frequency  in  certain  periods,  probably  as  a  result  of  foreign 
influences. 


at  the  present   day   may   be  a  survival  of   this 
barbarous  custom. 

1.  Importance  of  the  subject. — The  importance 
of  the  subject  will  at  once  be  evident  when  we 
consider  that  there  is,  perhaps,  no  event  in  the 
'  pilgrimage '  of  the  '  Chinaman '  which  demands  so 
great  attention,  such  scrupulous  observance  of  im- 
memorial custom,  and  such  lavish  expenditure  of 
labour  and  capital,  as  the  carrying  out  of  a  '  decent 
funeral. ' 

2.  The  dictum  of  Confucius. — Confucius  lays 
down  no  rules  with  regard  to  the  treatment  of  the 
dead,  beyond  the  admonition  that  all  things  should 
be  done  '  decently  and  in  order ' ;  that  the  family 
circumstances  should  be  taken  into  account,  and 
that  the  various  classes  of  society  should  be  guided 
by  the  precedents  which  obtain  in  each  class. 
The  tradesman  should  not  seek  to  emulate  the 
official,  and  so  forth ;  but  Confucius  enunciates 
one  general  principle  which  should  govern  the 
conduct  of  the  entire  affair :  '  In  mourning  it  is 
better  to  be  sorrowful  than  punctilious.' 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the  observance 
of  the  conventional  funeral  customs  is  inseparably 
connected  with  the  extraordinary  development  of 
the  idea  of  filial  piety,  and  the  ancestral  worship 
of  which  it  is  the  inspiration  and  the  key. 

3.  Treatment  of  the  dying. — When  ail  remedies 
have  failed  to  retain  the  departing  spirit,  the  dying 
man  is  prepared  for  entering  the  presence  chamber 
of  the  gods,  before  whom  he  must  appear :  the 
god  of  the  local  temple,  the  god  of  the  city  walls 
and  moats,  and  the  god  of  Hades.  His  head  is 
shaved  ;  his  body  and  extremities  are  washed  ;  the 
nails  of  his  hands  and  feet  are  cut,  the  parings 
being  carefully  preserved ;  and  his  underclothing 
is  changed.  When  in  articulo  mortis  he  is  sup- 
ported in  a  sitting  posture,  it  being  believed  that 
the  soul  makes  its  escape  from  a  recumbent  figure 
by  the  lower  part  of  the  body,  and,  as  a  result, 
on  re-incarnation  will  be  gross  and  stupid  ;  whilst 
from  the  upright  body  it  flies  aloft  through  the 
mouth,  and  re-appears  eventually,  by  transmigra- 
tion, in  a  highly  developed  condition.  Tinsel 
money  and  charms  are  burnt  before  him,  and  the 
ashes  are  collected,  wrapped  in  paper,  and  placed  in 
his  hand,  whilst  he  is  informed  that  the  expenses 
of  the  journey  have  all  been  provided.  Sometimes 
a  small  lantern,  obtained  from  a  Buddhist  temple, 
and  already  used  in  the  worship  of  Heaven,  is 
placed  in  his  hand,  and  he  is  advised  to  hold  it 
fast,  as  the  way  before  him  will  be  dark.  If  the 
family  can  afford  it,  a  sedan-chair  with  two  bearers, 
all  of  paper  and  bamboo,  is  purchased.  To  die 
in  the  early  morning  is  in  some  places  considered 
felicitous,  because  there  are  three  meals  left  for 
the  dead  man's  posterity  to  enjoy  ;  but  to  die 
after  the  consumption  of  the  evening  meal  is  con- 
sidered to  be  ill-omened,  for  then,  by  implication, 
there  is  nothing  left  for  his  successors.  It  is  im- 
portant that  the  sons  of  the  dying  man  and  other 
relatives  should  be  present  to  attend  the  death- 
bed ;  and,  as  they  weep,  they  call  upon  him  not  to 
leave  them  but  to  awaken  from  his  sleep.  The 
cries  of  daughters  are  considered  to  have  special 
virtue  in  opening  Heaven's  gate,  and  a  man  who 
does  not  possess  a  daughter  or  two  is  much  to  be 
pitied — contrary  to  a  prevailing  but  very  erroneous 
idea  current  among  Europeans. 

4.  First  duties  of  mourners. — As  soon  as  death 
takes  place,  an  elder  conducts  the  proceedings,  and 
orders  the  queues  of  the  sons  to  be  unravelled,  and 
candles  to  be  lighted  before  the  ancestral  shrine 
and  the  god  of  the  hearth,  because  the  warrant  for 
the  capture  of  the  departed  soul  is  supposed  to 
have  arrived  from  the  god  of  Hades,  and  it  must 
be  countersigned  by  the  ancestral  spirits,  or  their 
representatives,  and  by  the  god  of  the  hearth. 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL.  OP  THE  DEAD  (Chinese) 


451 


5.  The  dread  messengers. — The  messengers  of 
the  god  of  Hades  are  said  to  be  two,  viz.  the 
living  Wu-ch'ang  and  the  dead  Wu-ch'ang,  the 
word  wu-ch'ang  meaning  'uncertain,'  and  being 
explained  by  the  uncertainty  of  the  summons  of 
death.  The  living  Wu-ch'ang  is  not  a  demon,  but 
the  soul  of  a  living  man  who  is  employed  by  the 
Wu-ch'ang  to  guide  him  to  the  house  of  his  victim. 
The  true  '  Uncertain,'  as  coming  from  the  hidden 
world,  is  unable  to  tind  his  way  in  the  light  of  day, 
and  requires  a  mortal  spirit  to  guide  him.  Some 
say  that  these  two  characters  represent,  not  in- 
dividual agents  of  the  god  of  Hades,  but  only  the 
two  souls  (the  animal  and  the  spiritual,  i.e.  the 
psyche  and  the  pneuma)— the  hun  and  the  p'o,  as 
they  are  called  in  Chinese.  The  first  of  these  is 
written  in  Chinese  with  a  character  which  means 
'black'  attached  to  the  word  for  'spirit'  or 
'demon,'  and  hence  represents  'black  spirit,'  and 
the  other  has  the  character  which  stands  for 
'  white '  prefixed  to  the  same  word  meaning 
'spirit,' and  hence  represents  'white  spirit.'  These 
have  been  personified,  by  the  ignorant,  as  the 
lictors  who  come  to  carry  off  the  soul ;  whereas 
they  themselves  are  the  essential  parts  of  the  soul 
which  of  its  own  accord  is  about  to  leave  its  tene- 
ment. The  hun,  in  conformity  with  its  nature, 
soars  aloft  and  is  dissipated  ;  the  p'o  descends  into 
the  element  of  earth  and  haunts  its  old  neigh- 
bourhood. 

6.  Post-mortem  lustration. — The  matting  on 
which  the  deceased  is  lying  is  given  a  pull,  with 
the  idea  that  this  will  prevent  a  lingering  illness 
in  the  next  incarnation.  The  chief  mourner, 
generally  the  eldest  son,  invests  himself  in  the 
clothes  which  are  eventually  to  be  put  upon  the 
corpse,  and,  holding  a  bucket  in  one  hand  and  a 
bundle  of  incense  in  the  other,  walks,  or,  in  the 
case  of  an  infant,  is  carried,  to  the  waterside,  an 
umbrella  being  held  over  his  head  all  the  time,  as 
he  is  impersonating  the  dead  and  must  be  screened 
from  the  eye  of  heaven.  In  some  cases  he  is 
escorted  with  music  and  fireworks.  Paper  money 
of  different  kinds  is  burnt ;  a  coin,  with  a  large 
nail  fastened  in  the  centre,  is  thrown  into  the 
water ;  and  the  water  is  thus  supposed  to  be 
bought,  and  is  drawn  up  and  taken  to  the  house. 
Here  it  is  warmed,  and  a  few  rubs  are  given 
to  the  chest  of  the  corpse  by  way  of  a  bath.  The 
hair  of  the  dead  man  is  next  combed  by  the 
daughters  and  daughters-in-law,  each  taking  a 
turn,  kneeling  and  weeping  at  the  same  time ; 
and  then  it  is  rolled  up  into  a  kind  of  knot  on 
the  top  of  the  head,  somewhat  like  the  top-knot 
worn  by  the  Chinese  of  the  Ming  dynasty,  thus 
exemplifying  the  popular  proverb,  '  The  living  sub- 
mit [to  the  Manehus],  the  dead  do  not.'  After  this 
perfunctory  washing  the  dead  man  is  removed  from 
his  bed  and  supported  on  a  chair  ;  and  the  matting 
and  straw  on  which  he  has  been  lying  are  burned 
in  the  open  street.  It  is  of  the  utmost  importance 
that  the  feet  of  the  corpse  should  not  touch  the 
ground,  and  they  are  generally  covered  with  a 
cotton  cloth,  and  supported  in  the  lap  of  the 
daughter-in-law.  A  small  table  is  spread  before 
the  body,  holding  two  bowls— one  of  rice,  and 
the  other  containing  vegetables  with  long  stalks, 
to  represent  and  bespeak  a  long  life  and  firm  root 
in  the  next  stage  of  existence. 

7.  Announcement  of  the  deith. — The  sons  of 
the  deceased,  with  the  braid  removed  from  their 
queues,  wearing  white  gowns,  aprons,  and  white 
fillets  round  their  heads,  and  shod  with  straw 
sandals,  take  candles  and  paper  money  of  two 
kinds,  and  proceed  to  the  temple  of  the  god  of 
agriculture.  On  arrival  at  the  temple,  the  eldest 
son,  as  chief  mourner,  lights  the  candles,  makes 
his  prostrations,  and  burns  the  paper  money  ;  this 


money  is  supposed  to  act  as  a  guerdon  to  the  god  of 
agriculture,  who  is  represented  as  the  agent  of  the 
god  of  Hades  in  the  arrest  of  the  soul,  and  hence 
requires  remuneration.  The  whole  process  is  de- 
scribed as  p'u  fang,  or  '  strewing  the  hall ' — a 
phrase  applied  in  real  life  to  '  squaring '  the  officials 
at  a  Yamen  in  order  to  be  assured  of  '  justice '  ;  and 
it  is  fairly  inferred  that  the  officials  in  the  nether 
world  are  equally  amenable  to  a  '  consideration. ' 

8.  Removal  of  the  corpse. — On  returning  to  the 
house,  they  make  arrangements  for  removing  the 
dead  to  the  middle  hall,  which  is  reserved  for 
special  occasions,  and  which  also  contains  the 
ancestral  shrine.  The  position  of  the  corpse  is 
first  reversed,  indicating  the  hope  that  the  dead 
man  may  return  from  the  hidden  world,  and  this 
is  illustrated  by  the  transposition  of  the  foetus 
before  birth.  A  meal  is  laid  out  on  a  large  sieve 
and  placed  before  the  dead,  with  wine  and  candles, 
and  is  then  carried  in  procession  to  the  front  of 
the  house  and  laid  outside  the  door  ;  the  members 
of  the  family,  in  white  clothing,  kneel  on  a  piece  of 
coir  matting,  weeping  and  prostrating  themselves 
alternately.  The  body  is  next  carefully  secured  to 
a  chair  by  broad  bands,  and  four  strong  men  are 
selected  to  convey  it  to  the  state  apartment ;  the 
head  is  supported  by  the  eldest  son,  and  the  feet 
by  the  daughter-in-law.  The  burden  must  on  no 
account  be  laid  down  until  its  destination  is  reached ; 
a  fall  would  be  considered  a  frightful  calamity. 
An  umbrella  is  held  over  the  chair  as  it  moves,  to 
hide  one  who  is  now  a  denizen  of  the  shades  from 
the  light  of  heaven,  and  handfuls  of  rice  are 
thrown  upon  it,  with  the  idea  of  expelling  all  evil 
influences.  The  corpse  is  then  placed  on  the  bed 
and  a  coverlet  spread  over  it.  A  sheet  of  white 
paper  is  laid  upon  the  face,  and  the  feet  are  placed 
close  together  and  propped  in  position  ;  to  allow 
them  to  fall  apart  would  involve  the  death  of  the 
nuptial  partner  shortly  after. 

9.  The  public  announcement. — A  messenger  is 
then  sent  to  a  Taoist  priest  to  inform  him  of  the 
date  of  the  deceased's  first  attack  of  illness,  the 
time  of  his  death,  and  the  number  of  his  years. 
The  priest  writes  a  large  sheet  of  yellow  paper 
mentioning  these  particulars,  and  the  date  on 
which  the  spirit  may  be  expected  to  return,  to- 
gether with  the  classes  of  persons,  born  under 
certain  auspices,  whose  presence  at  the  coffining  is 
contra-indicated.  On  obtaining  this  information, 
which  is  sometimes  pasted  up  diagonally  on  the 
wall  of  the  house,  the  family  is  able  to  pre- 
pare for  the  return  of  the  departed  spirit  and  his 
attendant. 

A  large  sheet  is  hung  to  screen  the  body  from  the 
observation  of  people  passing  the  door,  and  a  rude 
lamp,  consisting  of  a  bowl  of  oil  with  a  wick  in  it, 
contained  in  a  basket  of  lime,  is  kept  constantly 
alight,  day  and  night,  so  that  the  deceased  may 
have  '  a  lamp  to  his  feet'  wherever  he  journeys. 

10.  Ceremonies  connected  with  death  in  old  age. 
— If  the  deceased  happens  to  be  aged,  say  seventy 
years  old  or  more,  the  curtain  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed  is  red  in  colour,  to  show  that  death,  in  his  case, 
should  not  be  considered  an  occasion  of  sorrow  ; 
and  no  word  of  consolation  is  spoken  or  sign  of 
grief  shown  by  the  visitors ;  on  the  contrary, 
nothing  but  compliments  are  heard  that  such  a 
happy  consummation  has  been  reached,  full  of  years 
and  in  the  midst  of  a  numerous  posterity.  Wine- 
drinking,  the  'Morra,'  etc.,  are  all  the  rule,  and 
any  one  would  be  laughed  at  who  insinuated  that 
there  was  any  occasion  for  grief.  It  is  to  be  noted 
that,  until  the  actual  coffining  takes  places,  the 
candles  used  are  of  the  usual  red  variety ;  white 
candles  are  not  employed  until  all  hope  of  revival 
has  departed,  and  the  body  is  about  to  be  placed  in 
the  coffin.     The  head  and  feet  of  the  corpse  are 


152 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Chinese) 


supported  on  specially-made  pillows  of  yellow 
cotton,  stuffed  with  paper  waste,  or,  in  country 
districts  where  cotton  is  manufactured,  a  reel  on 
which  cotton  is  wound  is  used  instead. 

11.  Notifying  the  relatives. — A  swift  messenger 
is  dispatched  to  inform  the  relatives,  who  are  ex- 
pected to  send  gifts  to  the  hereaved  family.  The 
presents  consist  of  small  quilts,  ahout  three  feet 
long  and  a  little  more  than  a  foot  wide,  which  are 
carefully  marked  and  reserved  for  placing  in  the 
coffin  in  due  course  ;  they  are  thus  marked  to  en- 
sure that  those  furnished  by  important  members  of 
the  family  shall  have  a  first  place. 

12.  Visits  to  the  house  of  mourning. — Notice  of 
the  arrival  of  visitors  is  given  by  the  gateman,  who 
beats  three  times  on  a  drum  ;  a  trumpet  is  sounded 
and  a  hand-cannon  discharged.  The  musicians 
then  strike  up,  and  the  mourners  are  warned  of  the 
approach.  The  chief  mourner  kneels  at  the  side  of 
the  spirit  table  ;  the  stewards  escort  the  visitor  to 
the  curtain,  where  he  kneels  four  times  and  bows 
four  times. 

13.  Coffins.  —  The  style  of  the  coffin  varies 
throughout  the  empire.  In  some  places  it  repre- 
sents the  trunk  of  a  tree  ;  in  the  north  the  lid  pro- 
jects considerably  over  the  head.  The  quality  is 
determined  by  the  circumstances  of  the  family. 
Wealthy  people  prefer  to  buy  their  own  coffins 
beforehand  and  keep  them  stored  either  in  an  out- 
house or  in  a  temple.  Some  buy  the  planks,  keep 
them  till  seasoned,  and  then  employ  carpenters  to 
make  the  coffin  when  required  ;  whilst  others  buy 
theirs  from  a  coffin-shop  or  from  one  of  the  Charit- 
able Societies.  At  the  end  of  the  coffin  a  lotus 
flower  is  carved,  expressing  the  hope  that  the  de- 
ceased may  become  a  Buddha  and  take  his  stand  on 
a  lotus,  as  Buddha  is  represented  doing. 

14.  The  process  of  coffining. — The  time  for 
coffining  in  some  places  is  at  full  tide,  and  prefer- 
ably after  dinner,  so  that  the  deceased  may  not  be 
put  hungry  to  his  '  narrow  bed ' ;  but  in  others  it 
must  be  before  daylight  in  the  morning,  or  in  the 
dark  of  evening,  or  on  a  day  bearing  an  odd  number, 
3,  5,  7,  etc.,  for  fear  of  another  death  taking  place 
if  an  even  day  should  be  selected.  The  floor  of 
the  coffin  is  covered  with  a  layer  of  fine  sifted  lime 
or  charcoal ;  then  five  large  squares  of  coarse 
paper  ;  upon  these  a  narrow  strip  of  matting,  some- 
times manufactured  of  special  material  like  lamp- 
wick,  is  placed,  and  upon  the  top  of  all  a  cotton 
mattress.  The  garments  for  the  dead  are  specially 
made  for  the  occasion,  if  the  family  can  afford  it, 
and  are  fashioned  after  the  pattern  of  the  old 
Chinese  costume,  like  that  of  the  present  Koreans  ; 
no  buttons  or  knots  are  permitted — the  Chinese 
word  for  '  knot '  being  pronounced  like  that  mean- 
ing '  difficulty '  or  '  trouble,'  and  all  such  difficulties 
must  be  prevented  from  accompanying  the  traveller. 
The  son  now  divests  himself  of  the  clothes  he  has 
assumed,  taking  them  all  off  in  one  movement, 
without  separating  the  several  garments  ;  and  they 
are  suspended  over  the  backs  of  two  chairs  and 
perfumed  or  aired,  by  means  of  a  brazier,  contain- 
ing fragrant  herbs,  placed  underneath.  Furs  and 
leather  of  any  kind  whatever  are  carefully  excluded, 
lest  the  dead  should  be  turned  into  an  animal  in 
his  next  re-incarnation.  The  clothes  are  laid 
out  on  the  inverted  lid  of  the  coffin,  and  the  dead 
man  is  carefully  placed  in  position  for  convenience  of 
dressing ;  his  arms  are  drawn  through  the  sleeves  ; 
a  long  cord,  which  runs  through  the  sleeves,  is  then 
fastened  in  a  '  lucky '  knot,  and  the  clothes  are 
carefully  smoothed  into  position.  The  hands  are 
placed  crosswise  over  the  lower  part  of  the  body, 
the  left  hand  uppermost  in  the  case  of  males,  and 
the  right  in  the  case  of  females.  A  pair  of  cheap 
shoes  are  placed  on  his  feet,  and  an  official  hat 
with  a   red  tassel  is  put  on  his  head.     In  upper- 


class  families  a  winding  sheet  of  deep  red  is  used, 
sometimes  of  satin  and  elaborately  embroidered, 
forming  a  sort  of  large  bag  like  a  sleeping-bag,  in 
which  all  but  the  head  is  enclosed,  and  it  is  fastened 
at  one  side  with  tapes.  A  satchel  containing  paper 
money,  a  piece  of  silver,  and  the  Taoist  placard  is 
put  on  his  shoulder  ;  and  a  piece  of  silver  is  placed 
under  his  tongue.  A  small  pearl,  called  '  tran- 
quillizing the  heart  pearl,'  is  placed  on  his  breast ; 
and,  in  the  case  of  a  woman,  a  small  pearl  is  in- 
serted in  the  toe  of  each  shoe. 

The  corpse  is  now  lifted  and  placed  carefully  in 
the  coffin,  the  son  supporting  the  head  and  the 
daughter-in-law  the  feet,  with  others  assisting  at 
the  sides.  It  is  important  that  it  should  rest  ex- 
actly in  the  centre.  Small  bags  of  lime  are  then 
inserted  to  keep  the  head  and  feet  in  position  ;  the 
pipe,  fan,  and  handkerchief  of  the  deceased  are  also 
inserted,  and  five  small  bags  of  different  colours, 
containing  nail-parings,  old  teeth  which  have  fallen 
out  from  time  to  time,  tea,  and  rice ;  a  small 
casket  containing  a  rosary,  and  the  undress  cap 
and  '  riding-jacket '  are  also  added  ;  for  the  gar- 
ments which  the  dead  is  at  present  wearing  are  his 
ceremonial  clothes,  required  for  his  audience  with 
the  gods  ;  these  others  he  will  wear  on  his  journey. 
Then  each  person  present  takes  from  his  breast  a 
small  piece  of  cotton  wool,  called  '  warm  the  heart 
cotton,'  and,  rolling  it  up  into  a  small  ball,  throws 
it  into  the  coffin ;  the  relatives  are  invited  to 
take  a  last  look,  and  care  must  be  taken  that  no 
tears  are  allowed  to  drop  in,  lest  the  corpse  should 
be  found  in  another  existence  with  marks  or  stripes 
on  his  face.  Then  the  various  coverlets  are  laid  on 
in  regular  order,  those  presented  by  near  relatives 
being  given  first  place,  and  so  on  in  order  of  pre- 
cedence, until  the  coffin  is  quite  full ;  whatever 
quilts  are  unable  to  find  a  place  inside  the  coffin  are 
burned.  Before  the  lid  is  put  on,  all  who  are  re- 
garded as  representing  astral  influences  inimical  to 
the  deceased  are  requested  to  withdraw,  and  are 
allowed  to  return  only  when  the  lid  has  been  put  in 
place.  The  lid  is  smeared  with  crude  varnish, 
to  make  it  air-tight,  or  sometimes  a  cement  made 
of  rice,  vinegar,  and  flour  is  used.  Usually  four 
large  nails  are  employed  to  fasten  the  lid  ;  but 
sometimes  a  sort  of  double  wedge,  fitting  into  a 
socket  in  the  lid  above  and  another  in  the  side  of 
the  coffin,  is  used  instead.  The  nails  are  driven  in 
by  a  senior,  the  sons  and,  in  some  cases,  the 
daughters  meanwhile  crouching  under  the  trestles 
on  which  the  coffin  rests,  lest  the  eyes  of  the  de 
parted  should  start  out  at  the  hammering. 

15.  Preparation  for  removal. — When  the  lid  is 
fixed  in  position,  the  mourners  are  allowed  to  plait 
their  queues  with  hemp-cord,  and  wear  coarse  shoes 
instead  of  the  straw  sandals  they  have  been  wear- 
ing, and  they  are  permitted  to  eat.  Food  is  now 
placed  at  the  side  of  the  coffin,  and  the  dead  and 
his  gaoler  are  invited  to  partake  ;  the  friends  and 
relatives  kneel  to  pay  their  last  respects,  and  the 
chief  mourner  returns  the  compliment  on  behalf  of 
the  departed.  Two  piles  of  paper  money  are  then 
burned,  one  for  the  dead  and  the  other  for  his 
guardian. 

16.  Meals  served  before  the  coffin. — The  'filial 
curtain,'  made  of  white  cotton,  is  next  hung  up 
before  the  coffin,  drawn  partially  back  at  both 
sides,  with  a  table  and  chair  placed  at  the  opening, 
a  white  cover  like  an  altar-cloth  draping  the  table. 
Regular  meals  are  served  to  the  deceased  on  this 
table  every  day,  and,  each  time  a  meal  is  served, 
the  server  is  expected  to  wail  and  cry.  This  con- 
tinues until  the  funeral. 

17.  The  fairy  guides. — On  each  side  of  the  chair 
are  placed  tall  paper  structures  representing  hills, 
one  called  the  'golden,'  and  one  the  'silver'  hill, 
intended  to  indicate  the  vast  sums  which  the  fond 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Chinese) 


463 


relatives  have  provided  for  the  voyager,  and  behind 
these  are  tall  figures  of  the  '  Golden  Youth '  and 
the  '  Jade  Maiden,'  bearing  streamers  to  guide  him 
across  the  'Fairy  Bridge.'  The  portrait  of  the 
deceased  is  hung  up,  behind  the  chair,  supported 
on  each  side  by  scrolls  bearing  doleful  inscriptions, 
and  with  white  candles  placed  in  front.  The  chair 
is  occupied  by  the  ancestral  tablet,  mounted  on  an 
inverted  tub,  and  crowned  by  a  piece  of  red  silk 
fastened  with  red  cord.  The  wording  of  the  tablet 
reads  :  '  Ch'ing  (dynasty)  of  the  Rank  of  such-and- 
such,  Master  so-and-so's  Spirit  Chief.' 

18.  Untying  the  knots. — The  day  before  the 
funeral,  Bonzes  and  Taoists  are  invited  to  conduct 
'masses,'  called  'the  Water  Mass,'  the  object  of 
which  is  to  cleanse  the  departed  of  all  sins  and 
transgressions  committed  during  his  life.  In  the 
afternoon  a  bowl  containing  rice,  and  a  thread  rope 
consisting  of  seven  strands,  on  which  are  threaded 
and  tied  twenty -four  copper  coins,  is  presented  to 
a  Bonze,  who  places  it  on  a  table  in  front  of  the 
table  already  referred  to,  and,  as  he  recites  the 
virtues  of  Buddha  in  releasing  souls  from  pain  and 
trouble,  unties  the  knots  in  succession,  putting 
the  coins  one  by  one  into  his  vest.  This  untying 
of  knots  is  meant  to  illustrate  the  release  from  all 
tightness  and  difficulties  in  the  next  world. 

19.  Thejourney  through  the  '  shades.'— A  Taoist 
takes  his  stand  at  the  corner  of  the  table,  hold- 
ing a  bell  in  his  hands,  and,  as  he  rings  it,  he 
chants  a  sort  of  sermon  whose  text  is  '  All  is  vanity,' 
and  whose  language  has  a  remarkable  similarity 
to  the  twelfth  chapter  of  Ecclesiastes.  He  then 
describes  the  different  stages  of  the  journey  to 
Hades.  The  journey  is  divided  into  seven  periods 
of  seven  days,  or  'weeks,'  which  correspond  with 
the  various  stages  of  the  spirit's  wandering  in  the 
infernal  regions.  These  stages  are  described  in 
detail,  with  a  wealth  of  impromptu  illustration 
and  elaboration ;  and  the  moral  of  all  is  the  im- 
portance of  repentance  for  not  having  spent  one's 
days  in  vegetarianism  and  the  repetition  of  Buddha's 
all-potent  name,  in  order  to  avoid  such  horrors  as 
have  been  related.  When  this  long  discourse  is 
finished,  a  space  is  cleared  in  front  of  the  '  spirit 
table,'  and  a  large  square  with  ornamental  borders 
is  mapped  out  on  the  floor  with  chaff ;  twelve  oil 
lamps,  provided  by  the  Taoist  priests,  are  disposed 
round  the  sides  of  the  square,  and  are  supposed  to 
illumine  the  darkness  of  the  gate  of  Hades. 

20.  Funeral  frivolities. — A  table  is  placed  at 
which  a  Bonze  and  six  Taoists  sit,  each  performing 
on  a  different  instrument.  In  the  intervals  they 
sing  ribald  or  humorous  songs,  with  the  intention 
of  exciting  laughter.  They  also  sing  the  '  Flower 
Song  of  the  12  Moons,'  describing  the  different 
flowers  which  bloom  in  the  different  months,  and 
other  compositions  which  have  apparently  very 
little  funereal  reference. 

21.  Offerings  to  the  spirits. — After  supper  the 
ceremony  known  as  '  Fang  Yen-kow '  takes  place. 
The  spirit  table  and  chair  are  removed  ;  another 
chair  is  substituted,  on  which  a  priest  takes  his  seat. 
Two  tables,  supporting  two  large  candles  and 
twenty-four  bowls  of  vegetable  food,  are  placed  at 
a  little  distance  in  front,  intended  for  the  delecta- 
tion of  the  various  gods.  Four  other  tables  are 
disposed  at  the  sides  of  the  hall,  two  on  each  side, 
intended  for  the  sacrifice  to  the  family  ancestors  ; 
a  small  table  a  little  lower  down  contains  the 
offerings  intended  for  the  dead  person ;  and  the 
spirit  tablet  sits  at  this  table  in  the  chair  as  before, 
attended  on  each  side  by  relatives  in  light  mourn- 
ing garments.  When  the  priests  have  finished 
their  reciting,  a  quantity  of  paper  garments  and 
money  is  burned  outside  the  house. 

22.  Sacrifice  to  the  dead. — The  apartment  is 
now  re-arranged,  and  preparations  for  the  sacrifice 


to  the  dead  are  made  ;  musicians  are  requisitioned  ; 
large  quantities  of  flesh  and  fowls  are  laid  out ; 
lamps  are  hung  all  over  the  room,  and  the  chief 
mourner  appears  from  behind  the  curtain,  leaning 
upon  the  '  filial  staff,'  and  supported  by  attendants. 
He  kneels  before  the  tablet  and  makes  humble 
offering  of  the  meats,  etc.  As  he  prostrates  him- 
self, a  person  standing  at  the  side  reads  a  long 
panegyric  on  the  dead  in  a  melancholy  voice,  and 
the  chief  mourner  weeps  as  he  lies  upon  his  face. 
He  is  then  escorted  to  the  rear  of  the  screen,  and 
repeats  the  process  three  times ;  all  the  relatives 
and  friends  present  follow  him  in  his  genuflexions. 
When  all  is  finished,  the  offerings  and  all  the 
temporary  fittings  are  removed,  and  preparations 
are  made  for  the  funeral. 

23.  The  funeral  procession. — In  some  places 
the  funeral  takes  place  in  the  fifth  watch,  i.e. 
between  4  and  5  in  the  morning,  perhaps  in  the 
fifth  week,  or  as  late  as  one  hundred  days  after 
death,  sometimes  even  later,  and  in  cases  of  poverty 
the  coffin  is  left  in  the  house,  or  put  in  a  mortuary 
chamber  for  the  time  being. 

Every  one  is  awake  and  stirring  at  daylight 
when  the  day  arrives,  and  arrangements  are  made 
for  the  start.  An  immense  paper  figure,  represent- 
ing the  '  Clear-the-way  god,'  leads  the  van  ;  next 
come  two  large  bamboos  bearing  streamers,  and 
four  'wagheads' — paper  figures  of  men,  whose 
heads  bob  continually  as  they  are  carried  along. 
The  son-in-law  or  nephew  carries  a  dish  containing 
rice,  in  which  is  placed  the  ancestral  tablet.  In 
wealthy  families  the  tablet  is  placed  in  a  sedan- 
chair,  which  is  supported  on  each  side  by  a  son-in- 
law  or  nephew.  The  bearer  of  the  tablet  is  robed 
entirely  in  white,  and  the  friends  of  the  family 
walk  on  either  side  of  him.  Then  follows  the 
coffin,  borne  by  four  men  or  a  larger  number, 
according  to  the  rank  of  the  deceased,  and  covered 
with  a  red  pall  or  with  a  satin  embroidered  cover. 
After  the  coffin  comes  the  chief  mourner,  wearing 
a  head-dress  of  coarse  hemp  gauze,  shaped  some- 
what like  a  biretta,  with  'pom-poms'  of  cotton- 
wool placed  at  the  intersections  of  the  frame,  and 
worn  over  a  small  white  cap.  He  hangs  his  head 
as  he  walks,  and  is  followed  by  the  relatives,  male 
and  female.  The  daughter-in-law  wears  a  cowl  or 
hood  of  coarse  gauze  over  her  head,  and  a  jacket 
and  skirt  of  the  same  material ;  she  also  carries  a 
staff  or  wand  like  that  borne  by  the  chief  mourner  ; 
she  sometimes  sits  in  a  sedan-chair,  and  the  heavy 
head-dress  is  then  placed  on  the  top  of  the  chair 
instead  of  on  her  head.  She  weeps  and  cries  aloud 
as  she  goes,  like  the  '  keener '  at  an  Irish  wake. 
Rice  is  thrown  over  the  coffin  and  chief  mourners 
as  soon  as  they  move  towards  the  outside  door. 
The  figure  of  a  crane,  with .  outstretched  wing  and 
uplifted  foot,  is  placed  upon  the  centre  of  the 
coffin,  and  is  supposed  to  convey  the  soul  to  the 
'  Western  Heaven.' 

24.  The  entombment. — When  the  place  of  burial 
is  reached,  the  coffin  is  temporarily  supported  by 
a  couple  of  blocks,  whilst  the  exact  location  is 
being  considered,  with  special  reference  to  orienta- 
tion. In  wealthy  families,  a  stone  receptacle  is 
prepared  beforehand,  and  the  coffin  laid  very  care- 
fully in  the  exact  centre.  A  meal  is  laid  out,  to 
which  the  deceased  and  also  the  denizens  of  the 
neighbouring  tombs  are  invited.  The  mourners' 
head-dresses  and  cinctures  are  burnt,  with  a 
quantity  of  paper  money,  and  the  streamers  and 
staves  are  left  at  the  grave.  All  present  now  set 
up  a  cry  ;  the  stone  door  of  the  tomb  is  placed  in 
position,  and  the  tomb  sealed.  The  head-stone  is 
set  up,  bearing  the  names  of  the  deceased, 
with  the  date  of  erection.  The  mourners  then 
join  hands  and  perform  a  sort  of  '  merry-go-round ' 
about  the  tomb,  which  is  repeated  three  days  later. 


454 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Coptic) 


25.  Return  of  the  ancestral  tablet. — The  pro- 
cession returns  in  the  same  order  as  before, 
escorting  the  ancestral  tablet  to  the  home,  with 
crying  and  burnings.  On  arrival  at  the  house  a 
great  bonfire  is  made  outside  the  door,  and  all  who 
have  attended  the  funeral  are  expected  to  step 
across  it  before  gaining  the  threshold ;  no  one  is 
exempted.  In  some  places  a  little  water  is  sprinkled 
over  each  person  by  the  Taoist  priests.  The  son, 
in  (lighter)  mourning  garments  of  blue,  kneels  and 
offers  the  viands  prepared,  and  burns  a  quantity 
of  paper  money.  He  next  climbs  by  a  ladder  to 
the  ancestral  shrine  over  the  central  partition, 
lights  candles  before  each  shrine,  and  then  carries 
up  the  new  tablet  and  places  it  in  position.  All 
present  are  invited  to  partake  of  the  feast  which 
follows.  On  the  third  day  a  visit  is  paid  to  the 
tomb,  and  offerings  of  food,  etc.,  are  presented. 
Those  who  are  present  join  hands,  forming  a  ring 
round  the  grave,  and  circle  round  in  one  direction 
three  times  and  then  reverse  three  times ;  this  is 
with  the  idea  of  confining  the  spirit  in  his  proper 
habitat. 

26.  The  seven  'weeks.' — On  the  seventh  day  a 
number  of  Taoists  are  hired,  seven  in  all,  to  '  open 
the  road,'  and  a  great  variety  of  ceremonies 
take  place  on  this  day— morning,  afternoon,  and 
evening.  In  the  evening  the  hall  is  again 
arranged,  with  a  table  and  chair,  and  a  portrait  of 
the  deceased  hanging  behind  the  chair.  Two  cups 
of  tea  are  put  on  the  table,  and  two  bowls  of  light 
food,  together  with  candles  and  incense.  The 
iaughter-in-law  weeps  before  the  picture,  as  she 
'  invites '  the  spirit  to  partake  of  refreshment,  and 
a  quantity  of  paper  money  is  also  burned.  At 
daylight,  tea,  etc.,  is  laid  as  before.  At  breakfast- 
time,  food  of  different  kinds  is  offered  and  candles 
are  lighted.  The  performance  is  repeated  at  noon, 
with  this  difference,  that  the  viands  are  more 
elaborate.  This  takes  place  every  '  week '  until 
the  seventh,  the  only  exception  being  that  in  the 
fifth  week  a  further  meal  is  laid  in  the  death 
chamber.  In  the  fifth  'week,'  Taoists  are  called 
to  'force  the  city,'  or  'force  the  gate  of  hell.'  A 
paper  city  with  men,  horses,  etc.,  is  set  up,  and, 
when  night  comes,  a  Taoist  priest  in  full  robes 
breaks  through  the  city  with  the  sword  he  carries, 
and  liberates  the  imprisoned  soul ;  afterwards  a 
great  bonfire  is  made  in  the  open  air,  and  three  or 
four  priests  take  their  stand  around  it,  holding 
long  bamboos,  to  which  are  attached  elaborate 
'fireworks.'  In  the  sixth  'week'  the  daughters 
are  expected  to  provide  a  feast  for  the  dead,  and 
they  are  given  a  share  in  the  division  of  the  cloth- 
ing which  he  has  left.  At  the  end  of  the  seventh 
'  week '  the  chief  mourner  is  allowed  to  shave  his 
hair  for  the  first  time,  but,  if  the  coffin  has  not  yet 
been  removed,  he  is  not  permitted  to  do  so  until 
one  hundred  days  have  expired.  The  next  year 
the  mourners,  wearing  white  garments,  pay  their 
first  annual  visit  to  the  grave  on  the  day  known 
as  'clear  bright,'  and  on  this  day  the  sounds  of 
wailing  may  be  heard  in  all  directions.  A  further 
visit  is  sometimes  paid  in  the  ninth  moon  ;  and  at 
the  winter  solstice  paper  garments,  representing 
warm  winter  clothes,  are  presented  and  burnt. 

27.  The  spirit's  homecoming;. — On  the  night 
appointed  for  the  return  of  the  spirit,  a  table  of 
eatables  is  laid  in  the  death  chamber,  which  is 
then  evacuated  by  the  relatives.  In  the  kitchen 
a  quantity  of  lime  is  placed  beneath  and  around 
the  fireplace.  When  the  hour  arrives,  as  announced 
by  the  Taoist  priest,  a  procession  is  formed,  the 
priest  leading,  and  all  enter  the  chamber.  The 
kitchen  is  then  visited  and  the  lime  examined,  the 
traces  of  the  spirit's  presence  being  discovered  by 
the  marks,  as  of  the  feet  of  a  goose,  upon  it.  A 
white  cock  is  caught  and  carried  in  one  hand  in 


front  of  a  basket-lid,  and,  as  the  lid  is  struck  by 
a  measure  held  in  the  other  hand,  the  cock  crows ; 
he  is  then  escorted  outside,  and  paper  money  burnt. 
This  represents  the  sending  off  the  spirit's  escort. 
A  white  cock  is  said  to  be  a  protection  against 
baneful  astral  influences,  and  to  be  the  only 
capable  guide  of  transient  spirits. 

Literature.— S.  Wells  Williams,  Middle  Kingdom,^  New 
York,  1883  ;  R.  K.  Douglas,  China  2,  London,  1887 ;  J.  Dyer 
Ball,  Things  Chinese*,  Shanghai,  1903;  J.  J.  M.  de  Groot,  Rel. 
System  of  China,  Leyden,  1892  ff. ;  W.  G.  Walshe,  Ways  that 
are  Dark,  Shanghai,  1905.  W.  GILBERT  WALSHE. 

DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 

(Coptic). — When  the  decaying  religion  of  ancient 
Egypt  gradually  gave  place  before  the  advance  of 
Christianity,  many  of  the  beliefs,  and  much  of  the 
symbolism  that  had  been  so  dear  to  the  Egyptians 
for  over  three  thousand  years,  survived  the  change 
of  religion  for  some  considerable  time,  and,  as  was 
to  be  expected  from  a  people  by  whom  burial  rites 
had  been  magnified  into  a  great  and  complicated 
magical  system,  the  old  customs  were  given  up 
only  gradually  and  reluctantly.  To  the  Egyptians, 
Christianity  presented  itself  in  a  somewhat  different 
light  from  that  in  which  it  appeared  to  the  other 
civilizations  of  the  ancient  world.  From  the  dawn 
of  history  they  had  believed  in  a  continuation  of 
life  after  death,  in  a  future  existence  that  was  well 
defined  ;  and  in  order  to  secure  this  existence  for 
the  soul  of  man  they  had  elaborated  countless 
magical  rites  which  were  performed  at  the  burial 
of  the  dead.  They  had  also  a  god  of  the  dead — a 
god  who  had  once  lived  an  earthly  life,  who  had 
been  slain  by  the  power  of  Evil,  and  who  by 
certain  magical  ceremonies  had  come  to  life  again, 
and  ruled  as  King  of  the  under  world.  It  was 
thus  that  in  Osiris  lay  their  hope  of  living  again, 
and  with  him  they  considered  the  dead  identified. 
The  Christian  belief  in  a  resurrection  was  therefore 
not,  in  certain  aspects,  a  new  one  to  them,  and  the 
doctrine  that  the  dead  in  Christ  shall  live  in  Christ 
was  strangely  familiar  to  all  who  had  been  reared 
in  the  Osirian  creed.  Thus  it  is  not  strange  that, 
when  Christianity  began  to  be  accepted  in  Egypt, 
the  early  believers  continued  to  practise  the  ancient 
funeral  rites,  only  slightly  modified  to  meet  the 
requirements  of  the  new  religion. 

The  chief  concern  of  the  pagan  Egyptians  had 
been  the  preservation  of  the  bodies  of  the  dead 
by  embalming,  so  that  the  spirit  of  the  deceased 
might  pass  to  and  fro  between  the  kingdom  of 
Osiris  and  the  earthly  shell  which  lay  in  the  tomb ; 
and  the  early  Christians  of  Egypt  saw  no  reason 
to  alter  the  custom  of  their  forefathers,  more 
especially  since  the  Christian  and  pagan  doctrines 
of  the  resurrection  had  so  much  in  common. 
Mummification  of  the  dead,  therefore,  continued 
to  be  practised  by  the  Christians  until  the  begin- 
ning of  the  5th  cent.,  and  only  died  out  after  that 
owing  to  the  general  opposition  of  the  Church.1 
Mummies  of  anchorites  and  holy  men  and  women 
have  been  found  in  various  parte  of  Egypt,  one  of 
the  most  notable  cemeteries  containing  Christian 
dead  being  the  recently  excavated  burying-ground 
at  Antinoe.  The  bodies  are  usually  well  preserved, 
the  head  being  sometimes  adorned  with  a  garland. 
In  the  case  of  the  men,  the  beard  was  allowed  to 
grow,  contrary  to  the  ancient  usage,  and  when  the 
face  is  thin  or  emaciated  it  represents  very  much 
the  type  of  the  Good  Shepherd  as  depicted  in  later 
iconography,  but  unlike  the  criophoric  figures  in 
the  catacombs.2  The  body  was  carefully  wrapped 
in  bandages,  usually  intercrossed,  and  sometimes 

1  Anthony,  the  founder  of  Christian  asceticism,  had  so  great 
a  dislike  to  it  that  he  desired  to  be  buried  secretly,  in  order 
that  his  body  might  not  be  subjected  to  the  general  custom. 
It  was  probably  his  opposition  that  led  to  the  suppression  of 
the  practice. 

2  Gayet,  AMG  xxx. 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Coptic) 


455 


the  face  was  covered  with  a  painted  plaster  mask, 
as  was  the  pagan  custom  of  the  time.  In  the  case 
of  a  supposed  Christian  priest  found  at  Deir  el- 
Bahari,  the  outer  wrapping  was  painted  to  repre- 
sent the  deceased  holding  the  Eucharistic  cup  in 
his  hand.  On  his  left  shoulder  was  the  swastika 
ornament,  which  was  much  adopted  in  early  Chris- 
tian symbolism,  while  the  lower  part  of  his  robe 
bore  a  representation  of  the  boat  of  Isis.1 

But  it  was  not  only  the  belief  in  the  efficacy 
of  embalming  that  survived  the  change  brought 
about  by  Christianity,  for  many  of  the  other  old 
funeral  customs  lingered  on,  although  it  is  difficult 
to  decide  how  far  their  import  was  understood  by 
the  Christians.  There  is  some  evidence  to  show 
that  offerings  of  food  continued  to  be  made  to  the 
dead.  In  the  Christian  cemetery  in  the  oasis  of 
el-Khargeh  the  tombs  follow  the  ancient  design, 
the  body  being  laid  at  the  end  of  a  long  shaft,  at 
the  opening  of  which  is  a  chamber  containing 
niches  for  offerings.3  Wine-jars  and  baskets  for 
food  were  sometimes  buried  with  the  dead,  and  in 
a  will  made  by  a  Christian  at  Antinoe'  the  deceased 
requests  that  the  holy  offerings  may  be  made  for 
the  repose  of  his  soul.  This,  however,  may  refer 
to  an  agape,  or  a  kind  of  mass  said  for  the  dead.8 
It  is  interesting  that  at  the  Synod  held  at  Hippo 
in  A.D.  393,  at  which  Augustine  was  present,  tne 
habit  of  placing  the  host  in  the  mouth  of  the 
dead,  which  had  become  general  amongst  Oriental 
Christians,  was  strongly  condemned.  It  was 
apparently  also  the  custom  to  enclose  some  of  the 
holy  elements  in  the  coffin.  Some  other  pagan 
usages  seem  to  have  continued.  As  the  dead  were 
formerly  buried  with  amulets  and  little  figures  of 
protecting  gods,  so  the  pious  Christian  was  buried 
with  figures  of  St.  George  and  the  Evangelists. 
In  one  case,  at  least,  at  Antinoe  a  sort  of  ivory 
praying-machine,  a  kind  of  primitive  rosary, 
appears  to  take  the  place  of  the  papyrus  inscribed 
with  prayers  and  magical  formulae.  There  was  also 
found,  held  in  the  hands  of  this  body,  a  flower  of 
Jericho  similar  to  the  mystic  rose  which  was  sup- 
posed to  be  the  emblem  of  immortality,  and  to 
nourish  every  year  on  the  day  Christ  was  born. 
Hitherto  this  symbol  was  not  considered  to  have 
been  employed  before  the  Crusades,  but  its  presence 
in  the  cemetery  of  Antinoe  points  to  its  use  in  very 
early  times.  It  is  interesting  also  to  note  that  the 
body  of  a  monk  named  Serapion,  from  the  same 
burial,  was  encircled  by  an  iron  band  from  which 
hung  a  cross.4  In  cases  where  portraits  of  the  de- 
ceased were  painted  on  the  outer  coverings  of  the 
body,  the  ancient  sign  for  life,  the  anlch,  "^,  is 
sometimes  represented  grasped  in  the  hand.8  This 
symbol  is  very  frequent  in  Egyptian  iconography, 
and  was  often  employed  where  the  cross  would 
have  been  expected.  Its  use  was  so  persistent 
that  it  afterwards  became  identified  with  the 
cross,  and  was  known  as  the  crux  ansata.  See 
art.  Ceoss. 

As  the  influence  of  the  Bishop  of  Alexandria 
increased  over  the  remoter  parts  of  Egypt,  many 
customs  which  appeared  semi-pagan  died  out,  and 
the  funeral  rites  were  performed  more  in  accord- 
ance with  orthodoxy.  After  the  Council  of 
Chalcedon  (A.D.  451),  when  the  Coptic  Church 
was  definitely  separated  from  the  orthodox  body, 
there  could  be  but  few  remaining.  From  descrip- 
tions in  the  Coptic  writings,  it  would  appear  that 
the  dead,  wrapped  in  a  winding  sheet,  were 
immediately  carried  out  into  the  desert  and 
buried.  Persons  of  peculiar  sanctity  it  was  the 
custom  to  bury  in  a  reliquary.  The  Coptic  Life 
of  Shnoute  states  that  he  was  buried  in  a  reliquary 
pierced  with  holes,  probably  in  order  that  pilgrims 

1  Gavet,  AUG  xxx.  2  Myers,  Man,  1901,  no.  91. 

U.Wxxx.  *  lb.  5/6. 


might  have  the  benefit  of  gazing  on  the  holy 
remains.1  As  these  relics  are  usually  described 
as  bones,  it  is  evident  that  embalming  had  by 
then  been  abandoned.  A  Mass,  or  offering  of 
the  Eucharist,  was  sometimes  performed  before  the 
funeral,  but  Masses  for  the  repose  of  the  dead  in 
the  Roman  sense  seem  to  have  been  unknown  in 
the  Coptic  Church.  The  use  of  tombstones  at  this 
period  was  almost  universal.  They  usually  contain 
the  words  :  '  One  God  who  helpeth,'  and  the  date 
on  which  the  deceased  '  fell  asleep '  or  '  entered 
into  rest.'  Occasionally  they  contain  pious  ejacula- 
tions and  quotations  from  Scripture.  Rarely  they 
are  conceived  in  a  more  pagan  spirit,  with  such 
phrases  as  '  Grieve  not,  no  one  is  immortal,'  an 
especially  good  instance  of  this  being  a  tomb- 
stone in  the  British  Museum  [no.  400]  which 
runs :  '  O  how  dreadful  is  this  separation  !  O 
departure  to  the  strange  land  which  removes  one 
for  all  time  I  O  condition  of  Hades,  how  do  we 
come  to  thy  gate  1  O  Death,  name  bitter  in  the 
mouth !  .  .  .  Let  all  who  love  to  weep  for  their 
dead  come  to  this  place  and  mourn  greatly.' 2  This 
recalls  the  ancient  Egyptian  funeral  prayer  to  the 
passer-by  :  '  O  ye  who  love  life  and  hate  death 
.  .  .  pray  for  the  deceased.' 

The  Copts  have  undergone  centuries  of  oppres- 
sion under  Muslim  rule,  which  has  driven  many 
to  embrace  Islam.  The  Khalif  al-Mutawakkil 
(850)  even  went  so  far  as  to  interfere  with  their 
burial  customs,  and  ordered  that  all  the  graves 
of  the  Copts  should  be  level  with  the  ground. 
Possibly  owing  to  the  influence  of  Islam,  which 
has  surrounded  them  on  all  sides  for  so  long  a 
period,  the  funeral  rites  of  the  Copts  to-day  have 
become  very  similar  to  those  of  their  Muhammadan 
fellow-countrymen.  The  corpse  is  borne  to  the 
cemetery  on  a  bier,  followed  by  the  female  relatives 
and  women  of  the  house  wailing  and  mourning. 
At  the  burial-ground  a  sheep  is  often  killed  by  the 
more  well-to-do,  and  its  flesh  given  to  the  poor ; 
the  poorer  give  bread  alone.  Professional  mourning 
women  are  hired  to  wail  in  the  house  for  three  days 
after  death — a  survival,  perhaps,  of  the  ancient 
Egyptian  custom,  or  possibly  only  a  ceremony 
borrowed  from  the  Muslims.  The  lamentations 
are  renewed  on  the  seventh  and  fourteenth  days 
after  death,  and  sometimes  for  longer  still.  On 
the  eve  of  the  festivals  of  al-MUad,  al-Ghltas,  and 
al-Kiyamah  (i.e.  the  Nativity,  the  Baptism  of 
Christ,  and  Easter),  it  is  the  custom  of  the  Copts 
to  visit  the  cemeteries  and  spend  the  night  there, 
many  of  the  richer  having  nouses  built  specially 
for  these  occasions.  The  women  spend  the  night 
in  the  upper  rooms,  the  men  below.  Next  day 
an  ox  or  sheep  is  killed,  and  the  flesh  distributed 
among  the  poor.  Lane  (Modern  Egyptians,  p.  296) 
states  that  the  Copts  say  that  these  visits  to  the 
tombs  are  merely  for  the  sake  of  religious  reflexion. 
This  custom,  however,  together  with  the  practice 
of  slaughtering  animals  for  food,  possibly  goes 
back  to  pre-Christian  times  in  Egypt,  when  the 
relatives  of  the  dead  made  periodical  visits  to  the 
tombs,  and  brought  food-offerings  for  the  ka  of 
the  deceased  to  refresh  him  in  the  under  world. 
The  funeral  services  of  the  Copts  are  according  to 
the  liturgy  of  St.  Mark.  One  is  in  use  for  ordinary 
periods  of  the  year,  and  a  special  one  is  employed 
during  Easter  (Tuki,  Bit.  Copt.  Arab.  p.  525). 

Literature.— A.  Gayet,  AMG  xxx.  (1897);  R.  Forrer,  Die 
friihchristl.  Alterthiimer  von  Achmim-Panopolis,  Strassburg, 
1893 ;  H.  R.  Hall,  Coptic  and  Greek  Texts  of  the  Christian 
Period  in  the  Brit.  Mus.,  London,  1905  ;  W.  E.  Cram,  'Coptic 
Monuments '  (Cat.  gin.  des  antiquitis  igypt.  du  muse'e  du  Caire); 
R.  Tuki,  Rituale  Copt.  Arabicum,  Rome,  1761 ;  E.  W,  Lane, 
Modern  Egyptians  8,  London,  1860. 

P.  D.  SCOTT-MONCRIEFF. 

1  Amelineau,  Mission  archiol.  au  Caire,  vol.  iv.  (1889). 

3  Hall,  Coptic  and  Greek  Texts  of  the  Christian  Period,  p.  4. 


456 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Early  Christian) 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 
(Early  Christian). — I.  During  the  earlier  years  the 
Christians  followed  in  general  the  burial  customs 
of  the  Jews.  But  a  livelier  hope  in  the  resurrec- 
tion robbed  death  and  the  grave  of  many  of  their 
terrors.  This  gradually  modified  inherited  funeral 
rites.  To  the  followers  of  Jesus  death  was  a  sleep, 
and  the  grave  a  resting-place  (Koiiuirfyiov)  for  those 
who  had  died  in  the  faith  (Jn  ll13,  Ac  760,  1  Th 
418'-,  1  Co  1518"20).  Not  less  but  more  respect  was 
accordingly  paid  to  the  mortal  remains  of  the 
departed,  for  their  bodies  had  been  '  temples  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,'  and  were  to  rise  and  be  glorified  (1  Co 
316,  619, 1543,  Rev  718).  When  death  ensued,  the  eyes 
were  closed,  the  body  washed,  the  limbs  swathed, 
the  whole  body  wrapped  in  a  linen  sheet  with 
myrrh  and  aloes,  and  laid  upon  a  couch  in  an  upper 
room  (Ac  93*1- ;  cf.  Mk  1546  161,  Jn  11"  1939'-  205*-). 
These  acts  were  performed  by  the  elder  women — 
kindred  and  friends  of  the  family.  Relatives  and 
intimates  were  admitted  to  view  the  face  of  the 
deceased,  and  an  interval  of  eight  or  more  hours 
was  required  before  burial.  The  younger  men 
carried  the  bier  to  the  place  of  interment,  followed 
by  the  relatives  and  friends  (Ac  56 ;  cf.  Lk  714). 
flute-players,  hired  mourners,  and  noisy  demon- 
strations of  grief  were  doubtless  dispensed  with 
(Mt  92S,  Lk  8",  Ac  82,  1  Co  IS3"-).  The  place  of 
burial  was  outside  the  city  or  village,  in  a  natural 
cave,  or  in  a  tomb  cut  out  of  the  rocky  hill-side, 
or  in  a  subterranean  chamber,  or  simple  grave. 
Local  conditions  were  determinative.  The  descrip- 
tion in  the  Gospel  of  John  of  the  tomb  of  Lazarus 
and  of  that  of  Jesus  will  hold  for  the  early 
Christian  Palestinian  place  and  form  of  burial 
(Jn  ll38  19";  Gosp.  of  Peter,  chs.  6  and  10).  In 
fact,  the  form  and  character  of  Jesus'  entombment 
influenced  all  subsequent  Christian  practice  (1  Co 
1520'-).  Tombs  were,  as  a  rule,  private  family 
possessions  (Mt  2767ff),  and  were  large  enough  to 
receive  several  bodies,  which  were  laid  upon  the 
ledges  or  in  the  niches  cut  in  the  sides.  The 
brotherhood,  however,  from  the  beginning  un- 
doubtedly provided  for  the  burial  of  its  own  poor 
(Ac  2"  ;  Aristides,  Apolog.  [Syr.]  xv.  18).  A  large 
stone,  rolling  in  a  rabbet,  closed  the  door  of  the 
hill-side  sepulchre  against  prowling  beasts  and 
robbers  (Mk  16s).  It  is  altogether  probable  that 
the  Jewish  Christians  whitewashed  their  tombs,  as 
did  their  compatriots  (Mt  23").  In  Rome  and  in 
general  throughout  the  West,  as  well  as  in  Egypt 
and  North  Africa,  the  Jews  had  already  adapted 
the  Palestinian  form  of  interment  to  local  con- 
ditions, and  the  early  Christians  modified  this  still 
further  to  meet  their  own  peculiar  requirements. 
Of  course  they  borrowed  this  and  that  local  practice 
from  the  current  pagan  usage.  The  wide-spread  de- 
velopment of '  catacombs'  (q.  v. )  as  places  of  Christian 
burial  was  but  a  re-adaptation  of  Jewish  and  pagan 
burial  customs.  Simplicity  and  even  plainness 
must  have  characterized  the  earlier  forms  of  Chris- 
tian entombment  in  all  lands,  partly  on  account  of 
the  poverty  of  the  brotherhood,  and  also  because  of 
the  hope  of  a  speedy  resurrection.  A  brief  inscrip- 
tion expressing  the  hope  of  immortality  (elpfyri  <roi, 
ko^o-is  iv  elpr/vr;,  in  pace,  etc.),  sometimes  accom- 
panied by  a  consecrated  symbol  (a  palm-branch  or 
anchor,  fish  or  dove),  was  the  final  tribute  to  those 
who  had  died  'in  the  Lord'  (Bingham,  Antiq.  of 
Chr.  Church,  ed.  1870,  bk.  xxiii.  ;  Am.  Oath. 
Quart.  Rev.,  1891,  xvi.  501  f.;  Kaufmann,  Handb. 
d.  chr.  Arch.,  1905,  pp.  74  f.,  Ill  f.,  205  f.,  277  f.  ; 
art.  'Koimeterien,'  in  PRE*  x.). 

2.  But  changing  conditions  produced  manifold 
developments.  The  wide-spread  and  increasing 
alienation  between  Jews  and  Christians  in  the 
early  decades  must  often  have  suggested,  if  it  did 
not  compel,  separate  burial  arrangements.     And 


the  rapid  increase  of  the  Gentile  element  in  the 
various  churches  throughout  the  Empire  naturally 
tended  strongly  in  the  same  direction.  The  Jewish 
cemeteries,  indeed,  would  hardly  have  been  open 
for  the  interment  of  deceased  Christians  with  pro- 
nounced pagan  antecedents.  Our  sources,  it  is 
true,  are  practically  silent  regarding  the  progress 
of  this  development,  but  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
separation  between  Jews  and  Christians  as  regards 
cemeterial  requirements  had  taken  place  before  the 
close  of  the  first  century,  especially  in  prevailingly 
Gentile  Christian  communities.  And  a  similar  sepa- 
ration must  have  been  going  on  as  between  pagans 
and  Christians.  Hostility  between  them  became 
marked  towards  the  close  of  the  1st  century  (Ac  8U- 
1528'-,  1  Co  712'-,  2  Co  614'-,  Col  28,  1  Jn  218'-  313,  Rev 
2io.2oi.  3bi.  6it>  and  c]ls_  8_20),  and  martyrdom  was 
not  uncommon  (Clem.  Rom.  ad  Cor.  5-7  ;  Tac.  Ann. 
xv.  44 ;  Suetonius,  Nero,  16 ;  Melito  ap.  Euseb. 
HE  iv.  26,  iii.  17-20  ;  Pliny,  Ep.  ad  Traj.  x.  96,  97  ; 
Ign.  Ep.  ad  Rom.  5,  ad  Phil.  x.  2 ;  Polyc.  ad 
Phil.  1).  The  Christians  would  naturally  wish  to 
ensure  the  sanctity  of  the  graves  of  their  martyred 
dead,  but  in  order  to  do  so  they  had  to  provide 
separate  cemeteries.  That  this  began  to  be  done  in 
Rome  by  the  opening  of  the  2nd  cent,  is  generally 
admitted  (de  Rossi,  Roma  Sott.  1864-77,  i.  343  f., 
iii.  386  f.  ;  Bull.  1865,  p.  36  f.,  1886,  p.  136  ;  Nuov. 
Bull.  1901,  p.  71  f.,  1902,  p.  217  f.  ;  Bosio,  Roma 
Sott.3  1650,  p.  141  f.  ;  Armellini,  Gli  Antiche  Cimit., 
1893 ;  V.  Schultze,  Katakomben,  1882,  p.  307  ;  Kauf- 
mann, I.e.  lllf.).  But  that  it  did  not  come  to 
pass  throughout  the  Empire  is  abundantly  proved 
(Ramsay,  Cities  and  Bishoprics  of  Phrygia;  1897,  i. 
500  f.  and  717  f.).  Influences  other  than  hostility 
would  often  operate  to  hasten  or  prevent  the  in- 
stitution of  separate  Christian  cemeteries.  In 
some  lands,  such  as  Syria  and  Asia  Minor,  it 
took  even  centuries  to  accomplish  the  separation 
of  Christians  on  the  one  hand,  and  Jews  and  pagans 
on  the  other,  as  regards  burial  accommodation 
(Ramsay,  I.e.). 

3.  The  earliest  distinctly  Christian  cemeteries 
of  which  we  have  any  knowledge  are  to  be  found 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Rome.  The  Neronian 
persecution,  followed  by  that  of  Domitian,  doubt- 
less constrained  the  Christian  brotherhood  to 
provide  separate  resting-places  for  their  honoured 
heroes  who  had  '  fallen  asleep.'  And,  as  martyrs 
to  the  faith  multiplied,  such  cemeteries  became 
consecrated  ground,  and  the  tombs  of  the  martyrs 
were  ere  long  places  of  pious  meditation  and  devo- 
tion. In  certain  communities  this  often  necessi- 
tated chapels,  where  the  brethren  could  gather 
without  imminent  danger  of  molestation.  Then 
funeral  rites  and  ceremonies  soon  shared  in  the 
general  development,  and  these  in  turn  reacted 
powerfully  upon  the  whole  manner  and  mode  of 
burial.  The  entire  catacomb  development  at  Rome, 
Naples,  Syracuse,  Alexandria,  Treves,  and  else- 
where, for  example,  is  adequately  explained  only 
on  such  presuppositions.  Instead  of  family  tombs 
and  brief  temporary  resting-places  for  the  dead,  the 
Church,  especially  in  the  West,  gradually  made  pro- 
vision for  the  burial  of  all  its  deceased  members  (by 
A.D.  250).  There  accordingly  arose,  in  the  suburbs 
of  every  considerable  Occidental  city,  Christian 
burying-grounds.  And,  where  the  remains  of  noted 
martyrs  were  laid,  chapels  were  erected,  and  the 
brethren  gathered  to  observe  the  Holy  Eucharist 
and  to  hold  fellowship  with  the  '  saints  who  had 
gone  before.'  The  chapel  was  named  after  the 
martyr ;  often  the  title  was  given  to  the  whole 
cemetery ;  more  frequently  the  cemetery  bore  the 
name  of  the  patron  who  had  provided  the  ground  ; 
occasionally  of  the  bishop  who  enlarged  and  elabo- 
rated it.  Instances  of  each  are  the  cemetery  of  the 
martyr  Prsetextatus,  of  the  patron  Priscilla,  and 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Early  Christian) 


457 


of  the  bishop  Calixtus — all  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Rome.  In  the  Orient,  developments  were  dif- 
ferent. Palestine  is  rich  in  rock-tombs,  and  so  is 
the  whole  of  Syria.  Asia  Minor  has  few  ancient 
church-cemeteries ;  it  has  mostly  family  burial- 
places.  And  this  is  largely  true  of  the  whole 
Orient.  Stone  sarcophagi  with  Christian  inscrip- 
tions are  frequently  found.  These  were  placed  in 
simple  graves  beneath  the  surface,  or  in  tombs 
erected  on  the  hill -side,  with  more  or  less  elaborate 
facades.  In  all  this  there  is  little  that  was  dis- 
tinctively Christian  (Ramsay,  op.  cit.  i.  500  f., 
717  f. ).  But  in  the  West  the  pre-Constantine 
developments  were  quite  unique.  Beginning  with 
the  Jewish  or  pagan  type  of  family  tomb,  the 
Christian  churches  soon  provided  cemeteries  for  all 
their  dead  (Aristides,  xv.  8, 11 ;  Tert.  Apol.  xxxix.). 
The  most  common  form  of  these  was  that  which  was 
later  known  as  'catacombs'  {q.v.).  These  under- 
ground cemeteries  are  enormously  extensive  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Rome,  and  were  used  as  burial- 
places  by  the  Christians  down  into  the  5th  century. 
They  give  us  the  larger  part  of  our  information  on 
the  theme  in  hand.  The  transition,  for  example, 
from  the  private  family-tomb  to  the  common 
church-cemetery  is  illustrated  by  the  St.  Lucina 
crypt  and  the  Calixtus  catacomb,  by  the  so-called 
spelunca  magna  and  the  Prsetextatus  catacomb, 
the  Flavian  vestibule  and  the  Domatilla  catacomb, 
and  the  '  Acilii  Glabriones '  chamber  and  the  Pris- 
cilla  catacomb.  The  growing  use  of  obituary 
inscriptions  can  also  be  seen  in  the  catacombs, 
$rom  the  simple  etpr/vri  <rot  to  the  most  elaborate 
personal  tribute  on  the  tomb  of  Sixtus  II.  (A.D. 
258).  The  development  of  Christian  symbolism 
can  likewise  be  traced  therein,  from  the  rude  but 
suggestive  '  anchor '  to  the  portrayal  in  fresco 
of  the  Last  Supper  or  of  the  story  of  Jonah. 
Christian  art  in  general  had  its  beginnings  and 
early  elaborations  in  the  catacombs,  and  every 
phase  of  it  was  closely  related  to  the  burial  of  the 
dead.  This  is  especially  true  of  painting,  sculp- 
ture, and  church  architecture.  The  same  is  also 
true  of  the  development  of  the  liturgical  and  sacer- 
dotal rites  in  the  early  Church,  and  the  worship  of 
the  dead.  The  ante-Nicene  development  of  burial 
customs  is,  however,  quite  amply  reflected  also  in 
the  current  literature.  The  Martyrium  S.  Poly- 
carpi  speaks  of  celebrating  '  the  anniversary  of  his 
martyrdom,'  or  birthday,  at  his  tomb  (xviii.). 
Tertullian  says  :  '  As  often  as  the  anniversary 
comes  round,  we  make  offerings  for  the  dead 
(martyrs)  as  birthday  honours '  (de  Cor.  iii.  ;  see 
also  de  Monog.  x.,  and  Cyprian,  Epp.  xii.,  xxxiii., 
xxxvi.  2 ;  cf . ,  further,  art."  Commemoration  of  the 
Dead). 

The  Christians  did  not  fear  cremation,  though 
they  preferred  '  the  ancient  and  better  custom 
of  burying  in  the  earth  '  (Min.  Felix,  Oct.  xxxiv. ; 
cf.  Mart.  Polyc.  xviii.  ;'  Tert.  de  Anima,  li.,  de 
Bes.  Car.  lxiii.,  Apol.  xlii. ;  Origen,  c.  Cels.  v.  23, 
viii.  30  ;  Lactantius,  Div.  Inst.  vi.  12  ;  Euseb.  HE 
v.  2,  vii.  22 ;  August,  de  Civ.  Dei,  i.  12,  13).  Sim- 
plicity prevailed  throughout  the  2nd  cent.  (Min. 
Felix,  Oct.  xii.  and  xviii.),  but  by  the  opening  of 
the  4th  cent,  everything  had  become  elaborated. 
Associations  had  been  formed  in  the  West  to  hold 
the  property  ;  space  was  sold  in  the  cemeteries  ; 
gravediggers  {fossores  =  Koiridrai)  had  become  a 
separate  class,  and  there  were  artists,  stonecutters, 
painters,  sculptors,  and  architects.  The  anni- 
versary festival  had  been  extended  so  that  the 
third,  seventh,  and  perhaps  the  thirtieth  and 
fortieth  days  after  burial  were  celebrated  (Apost. 
Const,  viii.  41  and  42).  Prayers  were  made  at  the 
tomb,  psalms  sung,  and  the  Eucharist  celebrated 
as  fellowshipping  with  the  dead  ;  lighted  tapers 
were  placed   at  the  grave ;    personal  ornaments, 


toilet  articles,  bottles,  vases,  etc.,  were  interred 
with  the  corpse  (Synod  of  Elvira,  can.  34 ;  of 
Laodicea,  can.  9  ;  of  Gangra,  can.  20 ;  Euseb.  HE 
vii.  16,  Vita  Const,  iv.  66,  67,  70,  and  71  ;  Epiph. 
Hmr.  lxxv.  3  ;  Socrat.  HE  i.  40,  iii.  18  ;  Jerome,  Ep. 
xxvii.  [cviii.]  ad  Marcellam). 

4.  With  the  recognition  of  Christianity  by  Con- 
stantine  a  new  era  opened.  Recent  martyrdoms 
had  multiplied  the  number  of  saints  and  holy 
places,  furnishing  fresh  sites  for  sacred  buildings 
as  well  as  holy  relics  for  altars.  Imperial  favour 
and  funds  now  facilitated  the  erection  of  churches 
throughout  the  Empire,  and  the  graves  of  apostles, 
martyrs,  and  honoured  saints  were  soon  covered  by 
imposing  basilicas  or  mausoleums.  In  the  suburbs 
of  Rome,  for  example,  the  basilica  of  St.  Peter 
arose  on  the  Vatican  Hill,  that  of  St.  Paul  on  the 
Via  Ostiensis,  that  of  St.  Lawrence  on  the  Via 
Tiburtina,  that  of  St.  Agnes  on  the  Via  Nomen- 
tana,  and  that  of  SS.  Marcellinus  and  Peter  on  the 
Via  Prsenestina.  These  all  were,  or  became, 
cemeterial  churches,  with  which  Imperial  mauso- 
leums were  frequently  connected,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  mausoleum  of  St.  Helena,  near  the  last-named 
church,  and  that  of  Constantina,  near  St.  Agnes. 
All  around  this  latter  basilica  were  placed  minor 
monuments  in  a  large  open-air  cemetery.  The 
'  churchyard '  now  soon  becomes  the  prevailing 
type  of  cemetery  throughout  the  West,  including 
North  Africa.  Persecution  having  ceased,  the 
Christians  were  free  to  bury  sub  divo,  yet  the 
martyr  graves  beneath  the  altars  usually  drew  the 
cemeteries  near  the  churches.  Of  course,  local 
conditions  were  determinative.  Churches  within 
the  walls  of  the  cities  could  not  have  extensive 
cemeteries,  though  their  crypts  were  used  for 
burial  purposes.  Western  Europe  followed  in 
general  the  lead  of  Italy  and  Rome  as  regards 
cemeterial  churches  and  churchyards.  North 
Africa  seems  to  have  early  developed  the  open-air 
cemetery,  independent  of  particular  churches. 
Egypt  continued  for  the  most  part  the  ancient 
practices  of  the  native  Egyptians  and  naturalized 
Jews.  Syria  also  persisted  m  its  old  burial  customs, 
though  the  elaborate  mausoleums  of  antiquity  were 
not  erected  as  Christian  tombs  ;  and  the  same  was 
true  of  Asia  Minor. 

5.  The  elaborate  funeral  ceremonies  and  the 
interment  of  the  Emperor  Constantine  in  Constan- 
tinople (Eusebius,  Vita  Const,  iv.  60  and  66-72) 
indicate  the  stage  which  the  development  had 
reached  and  also  lines  of  future  progress : 

The  body  ■  was  placed  in  the  principal  chamber  of  the  palace, 
and  surrounded  by  candles,'  and  '  encircled  by  a  numerous 
retinue  of  attendants,  who  watched  around  it  incessantly  night 
and  day ' ;  the  second  son,  Constantius,  himself  headed  the 
procession,  '  which  was  preceded  by  detachments  of  soldiers  in 
military  array,  and  followed  by  vast  multitudes,  the  body  itself 
being  surrounded  by  companies  of  spearmen  and  heavy  armed 
infantry.  On  the  arrival  of  the  procession  at  the  church  dedi- 
cated to  the  apostles  of  our  Saviour,  the  coffin  was  there 
entombed.  ...  As  soon  as  Constantius  had  withdrawn  himself 
with  the  military  train,  the  ministers  of  God  came  forward,  with 
the  multitude  and  the  whole  congregation  of  the  faithful,  and 
performed  the  rites  of  Divine  worship  with  .  .  .  prayers  for  his 
soul.  .  .  .  His  statue  was  erected  ...  in  every  province.' 
The  funeral  and  entombment  of  Basil,  Bishop  of 
Ceesarea,  as  described  by  Gregory  of  Nazianzus,  is 
likewise  instructive  (Paneg.  on  Basil,  80) : 

'  The  saint  was  being  carried  out,  lifted  high  by  the  hands  of 
holy  men,  and  every  one  was  eager  to  seize  the  hem  of  his  gar- 
ment, or  to  touch  his  shadow  or  the  bier  which  bore  his  holy 
remains.  .  .  .  The  psalmody  was  overpowered  by  the  lamenta- 
tions .  .  .  the  body  was  consigned  to  the  tomb  of  his  fathers  .  .  . 
and  now  he  is  in  heaven,  where,  if  I  mistake  not,  he  is  offering 
sacrifices  for  us  and  praying  for  the  people.' 

Panegyrics  on  deceased  distinguished  personages, 
and  over  the  remains  of  relatives  and  friends, 
became  common  (Euseb.  Vita  Const.  ;  Ambrose  en 
Valentinian  and  on  Theodosius  ;  Greg.  Naz.  on  his 
brother,  sister,  and  father  [Orat.  vii.  viii.  and 
xviii.  1  and  on  Athanasius  ;  Greg.  Nys.  on  Meletius ; 


458 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Egyptian) 


August.  Conf.  ix.  12  ;  Jerome,  Epp.  lxi.  etc.).  The 
anniversaries  of  famous  martyrs  were  also  occasions 
for  elaborate  discourses  on  their  virtues.  And  their 
tombs  now  became  the  resort  of  pilgrims  from  far 
and  near.  The  relics  of  martyrs  and  saints  were 
frequently  disinterred  and  sent  to  important 
churches  for  re-burial  in  the  crypts,  where  shrines 
were  erected  and  services  held.  The  Synod  of 
Gangra  (c.  358  A.D.)  declares:  'If  any  one  shall, 
from  a  presumptuous  disposition,  condemn  and 
abhor  the  assemblies  (in  honour)  of  martyrs,  or  the 
services  performed  there,  and  the  commemoration 
of  them,  let  him  be  anathema  '  (can.  20).  Yet  the 
Synod  of  Laodicea  (before  A.D.  381)  announced 
that  '  members  of  the  Church  shall  not  be  allowed 
to  frequent  cemeteries  or  so-called  martyries  of 
heretics  for  prayer  or  worship'  (can.  ix.).  Many 
councils  in  Spain,  France,  and  Germany  during  the 
6th  cent,  tried  to  stop  burials  in  martyries  and 
churches.  Pelagius  II.  (A.D.  578)  protested  against 
the  growing  custom,  but  with  slight  effect.  Burial 
around  churches,  or  in  porches,  vestibules,  and 
cloisters,  soon  became  universal.  Gregory  the 
Great  (c.  600  A.D.)  complains  about  exactions  of 
cemetery  officials  as  a  price  of  burial,  but  says :  '  If 
parents  or  others  wish  to  offer  anything  for  lights, 
we  do  not  forbid,  but  you  must  not  ask  it '  (bk.  ix. 
Ep.  iii.).  Jerome  and  Chrysostom  had  spoken 
approvingly  of  giving  alms  at  funerals,  for  the 
relief  of  the  souls  of  the  dead. 

6.  A  summary  of  the  theme  in  hand  may  be 
given  under  the  following  heads.  (1)  The  simple 
funeral  rites  and  burial  customs  of  the  early  days 
gradually  gave  way  to  more  and  more  elaborate 
ceremonies  and  practices.  (2)  These  developments 
were  different  in  different  lands,  but  they  all 
tended  in  the  same  general  direction.  (3)  Two 
universal  influences  were  at  work  to  produce  these 
manifold  changes :  one  arising  out  of  the  persistent 
faith  and  life  of  the  Church,  the  other  pressing 
in  from  the  universal  pagan  environment.  (4) 
Funeral  rites  were  extended  so  as  to  include  the 
elaborate  ceremonials  which  have  been  described 
above,  most  of  which  were  drawn  more  or  less  un- 
consciously from  the  surrounding  pagan  practices, 
although  the  Christians  never  lost  the  primitive 
faith  and  feeling  which  distinguished  their  early 
funeral  customs.  (5)  The  manner  and  forms  of 
entombment  were  also  steadily  influenced  by  the 
various  pagan  practices,  and  yet  to  the  Christians 
the  grave  remained  the  '  sleeping-place '  for  those 
who  were  to  arise  to  'newness  of  life.' 

Literature. — Besides  the  authorities  cited  in  the  article,  see 
J.  Wilpert,  Malereien  der  Kalakomben  Roms,  Freiburg,  1903  ; 
N.  Miiller,  artt.  '  Inschriften,'  '  Christusbilder,'  and  '  Koimete- 
rien,'  in  PRE3  ;  A.  L.  Frothingham,  Monuments  of  Christian 
Rome,  London,  1908;  Cabrol,  DACL,  1903 f. ;  S.  Gsell,  Les 
Monuments  antiq.  de  VAlgirie,  Paris,  1901 ;  J.  de  Vogue1,  La 
Syrie  centrale,  do.  1905  f. ;  J.  Strzygowski,  Klevnasien,  Leipzig, 
1903 ;  F.  Cumont,  Melanges  d'archiol.  1895 ;  L.  Duchesne, 
Orig.  du  suite  chritA,  Paris,  1908  [Eng.  tr.3  1910]. 

Edwin  Knox  Mitchell. 
DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 

(Egyptian). — Of  no  other  country  in  the  world 
have  the  burial  customs  always  attracted  so 
much  attention  as  have  those  of  ancient  Egypt. 
The  artificial  preservation  of  the  body,  the  ela- 
borate care  with  which  it  was  provided  with 
covering  and  ornament,  the  monumental  nature 
of  the  tombs  which  were  built  or  excavated  to 
contain  it,  struck  the  earliest  foreign  observers 
with  astonishment,  and  are  still  the  theme  of 
wonder  and  admiration  in  our  own  day.  More- 
over, the  dry  and  microbe-free  climate  of  Egypt, 
in  which  nothing  is  destroyed  by  the  disinte- 
grating action  of  the  atmosphere  or  the  attacks 
of  bacilli,  has  helped  the  artificial  aids  of  mum- 
mification and  carefully-sealed  burial  to  preserve 
the  human  body  and  its  appurtenances  intact 
just  as  they  were  placed  in  the  tomb.     Even  if 


removed  from  its  wrappings,  it  is  but  rarely  that 
a  mummy  is  affected  by  any  agency  except  damp  ; 
while  the  textile  fabrics,  the  mats  and  baskets, 
and  even  the  loaves  of  bread  sometimes  placed 
with  it,  are,  if  delicate  and  brittle  and  without 
elasticity,  to  all  outward  appearance  the  same  now 
as  when  they  were  buried  with  the  mummy.  It  is 
chiefly  to  their  preservative  methods  of  burial  that 
we  owe  our  present  remarkable  knowledge  of 
the  ancient  Egyptians  and  their  manners  and 
customs,  whereas  in  the  case  of  Greece  and  Rome 
we  have  become  acquainted  with  the  course  of 
daily  life,  and  the  objects  of  daily  use,  mainly 
through  the  medium  of  literary  descriptions  or 
the  representations  on  painted  vases.  In  Egypt 
we  have  the  actual  objects  themselves,  from  the 
precious  ornaments  of  gods  and  kings  to  the 
humblest  bead-necklaces  or  rude  idols  of  the  fella- 
hin  ;  we  have  chariots  perfectly  preserved,  splendid 
furniture  and  marvels  of  cabinet-making  which 
once  adorned  palaces,  simple  wooden  benches,  and 
the  shoes,  mallets,  and  baskets  of  the  common 
peasants.  The  majority  have  been  preserved  in 
the  tombs.  Naturally  we  possess  actual  objects 
of  daily  use  from  Greece  and  Rome  also,  but  they 
are  rare,  and  tell  us  little  compared  with  the 
vast  corpus  of  knowledge  which  we  have  derived 
from  the  sepulchres  of  Egypt.  And  one  thing 
we  have  from  Egypt  which  is  the  most  wonderful 
of  all,  and  this  we  can  never  have  from  Greece 
and  Rome.  No  man  has  seen  the  actual  face 
and  form  of  Themistocles,  Pericles,  or  Cimon,  of 
Solon,  or  of  Socrates,  of  Alexander,  Hannibal, 
or  Augustus  ;  yet  every  man  now  who  "  wishes 
may  gaze  upon  the  actual  bodies  of  kings  whose 
ancient  names  were  told  by  the  priests  to  the 
Father  of  History,  whose  deeds  as  they  were 
written  on  temple-walls  were  recounted  to  the 
nephew  of  Augustus,  and  whose  statues  were 
venerated  as  those  of  deities  by  the  Emperor 
Hadrian.  Sesostris,  Ramses,  and  Osymandyas, 
who  were  ancient  names  to  Hellenes  and  Romans, 
and  were  actually  contemporaries  of  Greek  kings 
who  were  the  heroes  and  demi-gods  of  the 
classical  period,  lie  now  in  the  glass  cases  of 
the  Cairo  Museum.  Mycerinus,  of  whom  Hero- 
dotus (ii.  129-134)  tells  a  merry  tale,  is  No.  6006 
of  our  national  collection  in  the  British  Museum. 
Their  preservation  to  the  present  day  is  due  to  the 
peculiar  burial  customs  of  their  nation,  and  was 
intended. 

The  chief  peculiarity  of  the  Egyptian  burial 
customs  is  the  artificial  preservation  of  the  body. 
No  doubt  in  later  times  a  theory  of  resurrection 
was  adopted,  according  to  which,  after  a  space 
of  three  thousand  years,  the  several  parts  of  a 
man — his  ikhu,  or  spark  of  intelligence  which  had 
rejoined  the  gods,  his  ba,  or  bird-like  soul  which 
fluttered  around  the  tomb,  his  khaibit,  or  shadow, 
and  the  ka,  or  double  of  him,  which  was  born 
with  him  and  accompanied  him  on  earth  during 
life  and  in  the  tomb  during  death — rejoined  his 
sahu,  or  noble  and  venerable  mummy,  which  had 
lain  so  long  in  solitary  majesty  in  the  tomb, 
and  then  the  whole  man  rose  again  from  the 
dead.  But  it  is  not  clear  that  this  actual  man 
was  to  live  again  on  earth  as  he  had  lived 
before.  He  was  to  live  with  the  gods  rather. 
According  to  another  theory,  the  sahu  was  not 
the  actual  mummy,  but  a  sort  of  spiritual  body 
which  germinated  in  the  khat,  or  corruptible 
body,  and  sprang  up  out  of  it  just  as  the  wheat 
springs  up  out  of  the  seed  :  so  the  dead  Osiris 
gave  birth  to  a  new  living  Osiris.  It  was  in  this 
sahu  that  the  concomitant  parts  of  the  man 
were  re-united.  A  symbol  of  this  belief  is  found 
in  many  tombs ;  it  is  a  figure  of  Osiris  on  his 
bier,  made  of  earth,  in  which  seed  was  sown  just 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Egyptian) 


469 


before  the  burial ;  as  we  find  it  now,  we  see  the 
wheat  which  grew  up  and  withered  in  the  dark- 
ness. The  two  different  ways  of  regarding  the 
sahu  probably  arose  from  two  different  ideas  of 
the  actual  dead  body.  In  one  aspect  it  was  a 
mere  dead  thing,  not  different  from  a  dead  fish — 
the  khat  of  a  man  like  the  khat  of  a  fish — and 
was  expressed  in  the  hieroglyphic  writing  by  the 
figure  of  a  dead  fish.  But  in  another  it  was  a 
fearful  and  wonderful  thing — the  sahu,  dwelling 
in  majestic  loneliness  and  silence  in  the  tomb, 
and  endued  with  marvellous  magical  powers, 
which  naturally  included  the  power  of  summoning 
back  to  it  at  will  the  departed  principles  of  life 
and  intelligence,  the  shadow,  the  heart,  and  the 
name,  ever  regarded  with  awe  by  primitive  races. 
So  the  sahu  is  represented  as  the  human  mummy 
lying  on  its  bier.  The  two  ideas  were  combined 
in  later  times  by  regarding  the  sahu  as  a  spiritual 
body  (which  originally  it  was  not)  which  sprang 
from  the  khat.  The  khat  was  simply  the  profane 
name  for  a  dead  body  of  any  kind.  In  the  oldest 
religion,  when  the  actual  human  mummy  was 
alluded  to,  it  was  called  the  sahu,  and  one  prayed 
to  the  gods  to  allow  the  ba  to  re-enter  the  sahu 
and  re-vivify  it,  so  that  it  could  feed  upon  the 
offerings  which  its  descendants  brought  to  it.  It 
was  probably  out  of  this  idea  that  the  conception 
of  a  resurrection,  whether  of  a  spiritual  sahu 
or  of  the  actual  man,  grew.  The  real  origin  of 
mummification  is  to  be  found  in  a  simple  desire 
to  preserve  the  dead  man  to  his  family.  In  the 
dry  soil  of  Egypt  bodies  were  found  by  experience 
not  to  decay  utterly  when  they  were  buried  in 
shallow  graves,  and  the  simple  expedient  of 
smoking  or  scorching  was  no  doubt  resorted  to 
in  order  to  stave  off  putrefaction  even  more.  How 
far  smoking  is  responsible  for  the  crouched  and 
drawn-up  position  ot  the  oldest  Egyptian  bodies  is 
doubtful.  Real  mummification  was  not  known 
to  the  oldest  Egyptians,  but  that  it  was  introduced 
before  the  close  of  the  Neolithic  period  is  shown 
by  the  hieratic  use,  even  in  the  very  latest 
time,  of  a  flint  knife  only,  in  order  to  make  the 
incision  through  which  the  entrails  were  removed. 
Herodotus  records  for  us  this  use  of  '  an  Ethiopian 
stone'  (see  below).  The  ancient  and  holy  stone- 
knife  alone  could  be  used  for  this  act ;  the  new- 
fangled metals  were  profane.  Of  this  desire  to 
preserve  the  dead  as  long  as  possible  to  '  those 
on  earth  who  love  life  and  hate  death,'  in  the 
words  of  the  Egyptian  funeral-prayer,  we  may  find 
a  proof  in  the  custom  of  keeping  the  mummy 
above  ground  for  a  specified  period,  in  its  own 
home,  before  it  was  finally  committed  to  the 
tomb  (see  below,  p.  462) 

Wiedemann  regards  this  custom,  which  we  shall  discuss 
further  later  on,  as  a  survival  of  what  he  calls  'secondary' 
interment.  In  the  most  ancient  days  he  considers  that  the 
primitive  Egyptians  buried  the  body  first  in  ground  near  or 
under  the  house  till  it  had  partially  decayed,  and  then  trans- 
ferred it  to  its  final  resting-place  in  the  desert  necropolis. 
In  this  way  he  explains,  too,  the  fact  of  the  disturbed  condi- 
tion of  the  bones  in  most  of  the  Neolithic  graves,  which 
Flinders  Petrie  explains  as  due  to  a  ceremonial  cannibalism. 
Wiedemann  thinks  that  the  body  was  intentionally  cut  up 
after  putrefaction  hed  set  in  during  the  first  burial  in  order  to 
clean  the  bones  before  the  second  and  final  burial.  He  finds 
confirmation  of  this  view  in  many  texts  of  the  '  Book  of  the 
Dead,'  in  which  the  cutting  off  of  the  limbs  of  the  dead  is 
referred  to,  while  the  deceased  prays  that  his  limbs  may  be 
restored  to  him,  and  that  he  may  be  whole.  There  is  also  the 
legend  of  the  cut  ,ing  up  of  the  body  of  Osiris.  That  these 
passages  are  rightly  interpreted  as  referring  to  a  primitive 
custom  of  cutting  up  the  body  is  possible.  At  Deshasha, 
Flinders  Petrie  fou  ad  definite  proof  of  dismemberment  in  some 
cases.  But  there  'S  little  proof  that  the  reason  for  the  prac- 
tice is  that  advanced  by  Wiedemann.  And,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  dismemberment  was  not  so  usual  as  has  been  thought, 
for  much  of  the  disturbance  of  the  remains  in  pre-historic 
graves  is  no  doubt  due  merely  to  predatory  beasts  and  to 
wady-torrents  (s&ls). 

The  primitive  custom  of  burial  in  a  crouched-up 
posture  gradually   gave   place,   during  the  early 


dynastic  period,  to  that  of  burial  at  full  length, 
with  which  real  mummification  is  associated.  At 
Medum,  Flinders  Petrie  found  both  customs  exist- 
ing side  by  side  in  the  graves  of  the  age  of  the 
Illrd-IVth  Dynasty.  It  was  probably  not  till  the 
time  of  the  Vth  Dynasty,  when  Egyptian  customs 
became  crystallized  in  the  form  which  they  more 
or  less  retained  ever  afterwards,  that  the  old 
custom  of  the  Neolithic  people  finally  died  out  and 
the  burial  customs  of  the  Egyptians  took  the  final 
shape  which  we  know  so  well.  At  least  from  the 
time  of  the  Hlrd  Dynasty,  prayers  were  made  for 
the  dead  in  the  ancient  form  :  '  May  Anubis  [the 
protector  of  the  tomb  at  Abydos]  or  Osiris  [the 
Busirite  god  of  the  dead]  grant  a  royal  ottering : 
may  he  give  thousands  of  flesh,  fowl,  and  every- 
thing good  and  pure  on  which  the  god  there  livetli, 
to  the  ka  of  N.,  justified  and  venerated '  (see  below). 
And  the  piety  of  those  '  on  earth '  erected  a  grave- 
stone '  in  order  to  make  his  name  to  live  on  earth.' 
This  was  as  far  as  the  Egyptians  ever  went  in  the 
direction  of  ancestor-worship.  As  has  been  shown 
in  the  art.  Ancestor-worship  (Egyptian),  the 
belief  that  the  dead  man  was  absorbed  in  the  per- 
sonality of  the  great  god  of  the  dead,  Osiris — a  belief 
universal  throughout  Egypt  by  the  end  of  the 
'  Old  Kingdom ' — prevented  any  worship  of  him 
under  his  own  name :  he  was  venerated  as  being 
himself  Osiris,  not  as  an  ancestor.  Otherwise  a 
developed  ancestor- worship  would,  no  doubt,  soon 
have  grown  up ;  for  family  life  was  close  and 
affectionate  in  Egypt,  far  more  so  than  among  the 
surrounding  nations  ;  and  the  names  and  figures  of 
parents,  children,  and  other  relatives  were  con- 
stantly commemorated  on  the  gravestones  of  the 
dead.  '  Those  living  on  earth  who  loved  life  and 
hated  death '  (ankhiu  tep  ta  mer  ankh  mestjetj  mut) 
were  always  full  of  sympathy  with  and  affection 
for  those  who  had  gone  down  before  them  into  the 
mysterious  tomb-world,  and  to  this  is  due  the 
whole  elaborate  paraphernalia  of  Egyptian  burial. 
The  smoked  body  of  the  earliest  period  was  pro- 
vided with  a  mat  on  which  to  lie  peacefully,  with 
jars  of  food  to  live  upon,  and  with  flint  weapons 
to  use  if  it  could.  For  how  did  one  know  what 
happened  to  the  venerated  sahu  in  his  tomb? 
Would  not  ka  and  ba  return  to  it,  bringing  back 
beloved  life?  That  he  who  had  been  alive  was 
now  absolutely  and  irrevocably  dead  was  as  incon- 
ceivable to  the  childlike  mind  of  the  oldest 
Egyptian  as  it  was  to  that  of  any  other  primitive 
man.  And  among  this  most  conservative  of  all 
races,  the  primitive  idea  merely  became  more 
elaborate  and  overgrown  with  ritual  as  civilization 
progressed. 

A  better  means  was  devised  of  preserving  the 
body  in  order  that  ka,  ba,  and  ikhu  might  come 
back  to  it  and  give  it  life  and  intelligence  to  live 
upon  the  offerings  of  its  pious  friends  on  earth, 
to  go  whithersoever  it  would,  to  take  any  form 
it  pleased,  to  exercise  its  undoubtedly  magical 
powers  (was  not  death  itself  magic  ?)  for  good. 
The  easily  putrefying  entrails  and  brain  were  re- 
moved, and  the  body,  reduced  to  skin,  flesh,  and 
bone  only,  was  salted  in  natron,  filled  with  spices, 
and  carefully  bound  up,  in  order  that  decay  might 
never  come  to  it.  The  removed  portions  were  not 
cast  aside,  but  were  also  mummified,  and  stored 
in  four  special  jars,  which  we  call  'canopic  jars,' 
each  under  the  protection  of  a  certain  demon,  so 
that  the  dead  man  could  have  them  at  his  need. 
And  the  shallow  grave  on  the  sand  became  for 
the  well-to-do  Egyptian  a  great  sealed  tomb  in  the 
rock,  in  which  he  could  rest  with  his  body,  safe 
from  the  prowling  jackal  or  hyeena,  and  with  his 
protective  amulets  and  funerary  furniture,  often 
made  of  precious  materials,  guarded  from  the 
impious  hands  of  human  robbers.     For  in  Egypt, 


460 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Egyptian) 


as  elsewhere,  lust  of  gold  drove  men  to  theft ;  and 
even  in  Egypt,  the  most  pious  of  lands,  many  could 
at  all  times  be  found  who  would  brave  the  anger  of 
gods,  priests,  and  the  outraged  dead  themselves  to 
obtain  riches.  Many  tombs  were  violated  within 
a  century  of  the  burial  of  their  owners,  in  spite  of 
all  the  precautions  taken  in  order  to  hide  them. 
That  of  Thothmes  iv.  was  already  violated  during 
the  troubles  of  the  reign  of  the  heretic  Ikhnaten, 
and  the  royal  burial  was  '  restored '  in  the  reign  of 
Horemheb.  The  knowledge  shown  of  the  precise 
position  of  the  carefully-hidden  tombs  makes  it 
evident  that  the  thieves,  no  doubt,  came  from 
among  the  ranks  of  the  priests  and  guardians  of 
the  necropolises  themselves ;  and  in  the  reign  of 
Ramses  IX.  the  scandal  had  become  so  great  that 
a  royal  inquisition  into  the  robberies  of  tombs  was 
held,  which  resulted  in  the  conviction  and  punish- 
ment of  many  offenders.  But  tomb-robbery  went 
on  gaily  ;  the  prizes  were  worth  having  ;  and  fifty 
years  later  all  the  royal  mummies  at  Thebes  had 
to  be  taken  out  of  their  original  tombs  and  hidden 
in  remote  hiding-places,  where  they  remained  till 
discovered  in  our  own  time,  and  placed  in  the 
Museum  of  Cairo.  The  primitive  Egyptian,  how- 
ever, had  no  fear  of  tomb-robbers,  or  of  any  dis- 
turbance beyond  that  of  a  storm-flood  which 
might  descend  from  the  hills  and  lay  his  bones 
bare  to  the  winds,  or  of  the  prowling  jackal. 
This  last  was  a  very  real  danger,  and  a  naive  way 
of  forestalling  it  was  devised  by  regarding  the 
magic-working  beast  who  lived  among  the  tombs 
as  their  protector  as  well  as  their  ravager,  and 
praying  to  him  to  take  care  of  the  resting-places 
of  the  dead  and  to  allow  the  offerings  of  the  living 
to  remain  in  peace,  and  himself  to  give  funerary 
offerings  of  the  very  best  ('a  kingly  offering'),  of 
thousands  of  flesh,  fowl,  and  everything  good  and 
pure  on  which  the  god  there  (the  dead  man)  lives, 
to  the  ha  of  the  dead  man.  This  is  the  origin  of 
the  well-known  di-hetepsuten  Amcp  formula,  which 
we  have  already  quoted  (p.  459b) — '  May  Anubis 
(the  jackal)  give  a  royal  offering,'  etc.,  which  was 
inscribed  on  every  Egyptian  gravestone,  till  Osiris 
or  another  god  took  the  place  of  Anubis,  in  which 
case,  however,  the  formula  remained  the  same. 
Another  theory  has  explained  the  occurrence  of 
the  word  suten,  '  king,'  in  this  formula  as  referring 
to  an  actual  intervention  of  the  earthly  reigning 
king  on  behalf  of  the  dead  man.  It  is  known  that 
the  kings  often  provided  magnificent  burials  for 
favourite  courtiers  or  nobles ;  but  whether  in  the 
early  period  the  monarch  was  always  expected  at 
least  to  make  offerings  vicariously  at  the  grave  of 
every  subject  is  very  doubtful. 

The  process  by  which  Anubis  lapsed  into  the 
position  of  a  mere  satellite  of  Osiris,  whose  wor- 
ship as  god  of  the  dead  spread  from  Busiris  in  the 
Delta  over  the  whole  of  Egypt,  has  already  been 
traced  (see  Ancestor-wokship  [Egyptian],  B). 
The  inscriptions  and  decorations  of  the  tombs, 
especially  those  of  the  royal  tombs  at  Thebes, 
exhibit  to  us  a  temporary  degeneration  of  Osiris 
himself,  at  any  rate  at  Thebes.  During  the 
Theban  period  Theban  ideas  naturally  coloured 
the  beliefs  of  the  majority  of  Egyptians,  and  Osiris 
had  become  largely  identified  with  Amen-Ra. 
The  ideas  of  Busiris,  Sakkara,  and  Abydos  as  to 
Osiris-Sekri-Khentamenti  had  all  become  blended 
with  the  Heliopolitan  idea  of  the  dead  sun-god 
who,  after  his  midday  glory  as  Ra,  set  as  Turn, 
and  during  the  night  sailed  through  the  tomb- 
world  beneath  the  earth  in  his  barque,  attended  by 
the  souls  of  the  blessed  ;  and  to  this  was  added  the 
identification  of  the  ram-headed  Amen  of  Thebes 
with  Ra.  So  that  we  find  the  dead  Amen-Ra- 
Osiris,  blue  in  colour  like  the  dead  Osiris  but  ram- 
headed  like  Amen  and  called  by  the  mystic  name 


of  Auf,  '  his  limbs,'  passing,  attended  by  Isis  and 
Nephthys,  the  companions  of  Osiris  at  Busiris, 
through  the  lower  world.  The  Theban  priests  de- 
veloped a  set  of  the  ancient  systems  of  spells  and 
incantations  designed  to  protect  the  dead  man  in 
the  under  world  and  describing  his  proceedings 
there  (which  the  Egyptians  called  'The  Book  of 
Coming  Forth  from  the  Day,'  and  we  have  named 
'  The  Book  of  the  Dead ')  into  two  '  books,'  entirely 
separate  from  the  ordinary  '  Heliopolitan '  and 
other  recensions  of  the  Book  of  the  Dead.  These 
they  called  '  The  Book  of  the  Gates,'  and  'The  Book 
of  That-which-is-in-the-Underworld,'  which  are 
written  and  pictured  on  the  walls  of  the  royal 
tombs  at  Thebes.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the 
Egyptians  pictured  the  Duat,  or  Underworld,  as 
actually  beneath  the  earth.  This  arose  from  the 
fact  of  the  tomb  being  excavated  in  the  earth. 
The  houses  of  the  dead  in  the  necropolis,  the 
Kherti-neter,  or  '  divine  under-place, '  as  the  Egyp- 
tians called  it,  formed  in  their  ideas  a  subter- 
ranean world  of  their  own,  in  which  the  sahus 
resided  in  awful  majesty  each  in  his  tomb,  while 
the  ghosts  could  pass  from  tomb  to  tomb  through 
the  mazes  of  the  under  world.  Later,  the  boat 
of  the  sun,  in  which  the  god  of  light  crossed 
the  heavens  by  day,  was  thought  to  pass  through 
this  dead  world  between  his  setting  and  his  rising, 
accompanied  by  the  souls  of  the  righteous.  In 
this  under-Egypt,  over  which  Osiris  presided  as 
the  mortal  king  presided  over  the  living  Egypt 
above,  and  to  which  a  dead  sun  gave  illumina- 
tion as  the  living  sun  gave  light  to  living  Egypt, 
the  soul  was  supposed  by  some  to  live  very  much 
as  the  man  had  lived  on  earth :  there  were  rivers 
and  lakes  to  be  navigated  and  fields  to  be  tilled 
there,  and  the  dead  might  be  called  upon  to  do 
work  as  he  had  worked  on  earth.  But  surely 
rest  was  the  guerdon  of  a  man  who  had  lived  a 
laborious  life,  so  that  with  the  dead  were  buried 
boxes  full  of  little  Osiris  figures  called  ushn.btiu, 
or  '  answerers,'  because,  as  the  sixth  chapter  of 
the  '  Book  of  the  Dead '  inscribed  upon  many :  of 
them  said,  '  If  one  calleth  Osiris  at  any  time  to  do 
any  labours  which  are  to  be  done  there  in  the 
under  world,  to  plough  the  fields,  to  fill  the  canals 
with  water,  to  carry  sand  from  east  to  west, 
behold  !  say,  "  Here  am  I  when  ye  call ! " '  They 
answered  for  the  dead  man.  There  is  little  doubt 
that  these  ushabtiu  were  the  descendants  of  very 
real  '  answerers '  in  the  shape  of  dead  slaves,  who 
in  very  ancient  times  were  strangled  and  buried 
with  their  lords  in  order  to  serve  them  in  the  other 
world  as  they  had  done  in  this.  Growing  humanity 
and  culture  substituted  wooden  and  stone  slaves  for 
real  ones  ;  but  it  may  be  that  the  custom  of  giving 
real  '  answerers '  was  continued  in  the  case  of 
the  kings  till  quite  a  late  date.  It  may  be  even 
that  the  dead  bodies  found  lying  by  the  wooden 
boat  in  the  tomb  of  Amenhetep  II.  (1450  B.C.)  were 
murdered  slaves.  In  the  earner  days  of  Mentu- 
hetep  II.  (2200  B.C.?)  priestesses  of  Hathor  who 
were  members  of  his  harem  seem  to  have  been 
killed  and  buried  in  the  precincts  of  his  tomb- 
temple  at  Deir  el-Bahari  in  order  to  accompany 
him  to  the  next  world.  And  naturally  enough  we 
find  the  bodies  of  slaves  in  the  tombs  of  the  1st 
Dynasty  kings  at  Abydos. 

Although  in  later  times  the  Egyptians  were 
certainly  more  humane  than  either  the  Greeks  or 
the  Assyrians,  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose 
that  they  had  always  been  so.  In  earlier  days 
they  had  been,  like  all  semi-civilized  races,  more  or 
less  children,  and  a  child  has  no  idea  of  the  sanctity 
of  life.  Certainly  the  Egyptians  had  originally  no 
conception  of  the  sanctity  of  human  life  as  distinct 
from  other  life.     The  slaves  followed  their  masters 

*  Some  have  merely  the  inscription  '  Illuminate  the  Osiris  N  1' 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Egyptian) 


461 


to  the  tombs  as  the  food  did,  or  the  caskets,  or  the 
jewellery. 

In  the  tombs,  if  they  are  tombs,  of  the  kings  of 
the  1st  Dynasty  at  Abydos,  we  find  an  immense 
bandobast  for  the  journey  to  the  next  world. 
There  were  stacks  of  great  vases  of  wine,  corn,  and 
other  food,  covered  up  with  masses  of  fat  to 
preserve  the  contents,  and  corked  with  a  pottery 
stopper,  which  was  protected  by  a  conical  clay 
sealing,  stamped  with  the  impress  of  the  royal 
cylinder-seal.  There  were  bins  of  corn,  joints  of 
oxen,  pottery  dishes,  copper  pans,  and  other  things 
which  might  be  useful  for  the  ghostly  cuisine  of 
the  tomb.  There  were  numberless  small  objects, 
used,  no  doubt,  by  the  dead  monarch  during  life, 
which  he  would  be  pleased  to  see  again  in  the  next 
world — carved  ivory  boxes,  little  slabs  for  grinding 
eye-paint,  golden  buttons,  model  tools,  model  vases 
with  gold  tops,  ivory  and  pottery  figurines,  and 
other  objets  d'art,  the  golden  royal  seal  of  judg- 
ment of  Icing  Den  in  its  ivory  casket,  and  so  forth. 
There  were  memorials  of  the  royal  victories  in 
peace  and  war,  little  ivory  plaques  with  inscriptions 
commemorating  the  founding  of  new  buildings,  the 
institution  of  new  religious  festivals  in  honour  of 
the  gods,  the  bringing  of  the  captives  of  the  royal 
bow  and  spear  to  the  palace,  and  the  discomfiture 
of  the  peoples  of  the  North-land.  All  these  things, 
which  have  done  so  much  to  re-constitute  for  us 
the  history  of  the  earliest  period  of  the  Egyptian 
monarchy,  were  placed  under  the  care  of  the  dead 
slaves  whose  bodies  were  buried  round  the  tomb- 
chamber  of  their  royal  master  at  Abydos. 

Passing  over  a  space  of  two  thousand  years,  we 
see  the  burial  of  Iuaa  and  Tuyu,  father  and  mother 
of  Queen  Tii,  the  consort  of  Amenhetep  III.,  at 
Thebes.  Here  we  have  the  same  bandobast  for 
the  next  world  :  beautifully  carved  chairs  and 
beds,  boxes  for  wigs  and  garments,  even  a  chariot, 
besides  all  the  regular  appurtenances  of  the  dead  as 
.now  prescribed  by  religion.  But  the  place  of  the 
dead  slaves  is  taken  by  the  stone  and  wooden 
vshabtiu.  All  this  funerary  pomp  and  circum- 
stance grew  up  from  the  simple  burial  of  the 
Neolithic  Egyptian  with  his  mat,  his  pots,  and  his 
Hints.  What  kind  of  religious  services  were 
celebrated  at  the  grave  in  the  earliest  period  we 
do  not  know,  but  it  is  certain  that  they  contained 
the  germs  of  the  later  ritual  as  it  was  carried  out 
in  Pharaonic  times.  The  descriptions  given  by 
Herodotus  and  Diodorus  of  the  different  processes 
of  mummification  and  the  funeral  ceremonies  are 
well  known.  They  were  eye-witnesses  of  what 
they  describe  ;  and  their  descriptions,  with  excep- 
tions in  the  case  of  Diodorus,  tally  entirely  with 
what  we  know  from  the  monuments  and  inscrip- 
tions. The  account  of  Herodotus  (ii.  85  ff.)  is  as 
follows : 

'  When  in  a  house  a  man  of  any  importance  dies,  all  the  women 
in  that  house  besmear  their  heads  and  faces  with  mud,  and 
then,  leaving:  the  body  in  the  house,  they  wander  about  the 
city,  and  beat  themselves,  with  their  clothes  girt  up  and  their 
breasts  exposed  ;  and  all  their  relations  accompany  them.  And 
tn  their  part  the  men  beat  themselves,  being  girt  up  in  like 
manner.  After  they  have  done  this,  they  carry  out  the  body  to 
be  embalmed.  There  are  those  who  are  appointed  for  this 
purpose  and  practise  this  art :  these,  when  the  body  has  been 
brought  to  them,  show  to  the  bearers  wooden  models  of  dead 
men  made  exactly  like  by  painting.  And  (they  show)  the 
finest  style  (of  embalming),  which  they  say  is  His  [i.e.  Osiris'] 
whose  name  I  do  not  think  it  right  to  mention  in  connexion 
with  this  matter.  And  they  show  the  6econd  stvle,  which  is 
inferior  and  cheaper  ;  and  the  third,  which  is  cheapest.  Having 
explained  them  all,  they  learn  from  them  in  what  way  they 
wish  the  body  to  be  prepared ;  then  the  relations,  when  they 
have  agreed  upon  the  price,  depart ;  and  the  embalmers 
remaining  in  the  workshops  thus  proceed  to  embalm  in  the 
finest  manner.  First  they  draw  out  the  brain  through  the 
nostrils  with  an  iron  hook,  taking  part  of  it  out  in  this  manner, 
the  rest  by  pouring  in  medicaments.  Then  with  a  sharp 
Ethiopian  stone  they  make  an  incision  in  the  flank,  through 
which  they  take  out  all  the  bowels ;  and,  having  cleansed  the 
interior  and  rinsed  it  with  palm-wine,  they  next  sprinkle  it 
with  pounded  incense.      Then,  having:   filled    the  bellv  with 


pure  myrrh  pounded,  and  cassia,  and  other  perfumes,  with  the 
exception  of  frankincense,  they  sew  it  up  again  ;  and,  when 
they  have  done  this,  they  pickle  it  in  natron,  entirely  covering 
it  for  seventy  days  :  longer  than  this  it  is  not  allowable  to  pickle 
it.  When  the  seventy  days  are  expired,  they  wash  the  corpse, 
and  wrap  the  whole  body  in  bandages  of  flax  cloth,  smearing  it 
with  gum,  which  the  Egyptians  ordinarily  U6e  instead  of  glue. 
Then  the  relations,  having  taken  the  body  back  again,  make  a 
wooden  case  in  the  shape  of  a  man,  and,  when  it  is  made,  they 
enclose  the  body  in  it ;  and  thus,  having  fastened  it  up,  tbey 
store  it  in  a  sepulchral  chamber,  setting  it  upright  against  the 
wall.    Thus  they  embalm  bodies  in  the  finest  manner. 

Those  who  desire  the  second  method,  in  order  to  avoid  great 
expense,  they  prepare  in  the  following  way :  when  they  have 
charged  their  syringes  with  oil  made  from  cedar,  they  fill  the 
abdomen  of  the  corpse  with  it  without  making  any  incision  or 
taking  out  the  bowels,  injecting  it  at  the  fundament ;  and, 
having  prevented  the  injection  from  escaping,  they  pickle  the 
body  in  natron  for  the  prescribed  number  of  days,  and  on  the 
last  day  they  let  out  from  the  abdomen  the  oil  of  cedar  which 
they  had  before  injected ;  and  it  has  such  power  that  it  brings 
away  the  intestines  and  vitals  in  a  state  of  dissolution,  while 
the  natron  dissolves  the  flesh,  and  nothing  of  the  body  is  left 
but  the  skin  and  bones.  When  they  have  done  this,  they  return 
the  body  without  any  further  operation. 

The  third  method  of  mummification  is  this,  which  is  used  only 
for  the  poorer  people  :  having  thoroughly  rinsed  the  abdomen 
with  a  purge  (trvpttaCa),  they  pickle  it  in  natron  for  seventy 
days,  and  then  deliver  it  to  be  carried  away.' 

Diodorus  gives  much  the  same  account ;  he  adds 
that  the  first  method  cost  one  talent  of  silver 
(about  £150),  the  second  twenty  mince  (about  £60), 
the  third  much  less.  He  gives  additional  details 
about  the  mourning,  saying  that  during  the 
interval  between  the  death  and  the  burial  the 
relatives  abstained  from  the  baths  and  from  wine, 
ate  the  simplest  food,  and  wore  no  fine  clothes ; 
and  also  with  regard  to  the  embalmers  themselves, 
adding  the  picturesque  detail  of  the  stoning  and 
flight  of  the  paraschistes,  which  is  of  considerable 
religious  interest. 

He  says  (i.  91)  that,  after  the  'scribe'  had  made  the  mark 
on  the  body  indicating  the  place  where  the  incision  was  to  be 
made  by  the  paraschistes,  or  'ripper,'  the  latter  performed  his 
duty  with  the  '  Ethiopian  stone  '  (as  Herodotus  says),  and  then 
immediately  fled  away,  pursued  by  a  volley  of  stones  and  im- 
precations from  the  other  embalmers,  for  the  Egyptians  held  in 
abomination  any  person  who  wounded  or  committed  any  act  of 
violence  on  the  human  body.  We  can  see  that  this  reason  was 
not  quite  the  correct  one.  The  ceremonial  stoning  and  fleeing 
away  of  the  paraschistes  was,  like  his  ceremonial  use  of  the 
'  Ethiopian  stone '  for  the  performance  of  his  duty,  an  act  of 
religious  significance  :  the  necessary  cutting  of  the  holy  body  of 
the  Osiris  had  from  the  first  been  regarded  as  an  impious  act 
though  one  necessary  for  the  preservation  of  that  body  ;  there- 
fore a  religious  act  of  disapprobation  and  punishment  had  to 
be  performed,  though  doubtless  no  one  but  a  fanatic  would 
really  endeavour  to  hurt  the  agent  of  necessary  impiety.  That 
the  paraschistes  was  universally  regarded  as  unclean,  however, 
is  certain  ;  whether  the  actual  embalmers,  or  choachytai,  shared 
this  reputation  to  any  extent  or  not  is  uncertain.  Diodorus  says 
that  they  consorted'  freely  with  the  priests,  to  whose  lower 
orders  they  in  fact  belonged,  and  were  allowed  to  enter  the 
sanctuaries.  Diodorus  also  mentions  the  practice,  to  which 
we  have  already  referred,  of  keeping  the  mummy  in  the  house 
after  death,  with  considerable  detail,  even  going  so  far  as  to  say 
that  the  richer  Egyptians  kept  their  dead  in  magnificent 
chambers,  and  enjoyed  the  sight  of  those  who  had  been  dead 
for  several  generations.  There  is  little  doubt  that  this  is  rather 
a  misunderstanding  than  an  exaggeration :  the  magnificent 
chambers  can  hardly  be  other  than  the  real  tombs,  in  which  the 
Egyptian  could  always,  if  he  were  bo  disposed,  see  the  sarcophagi 
which  contained  the  bodies  of  his  ancestors.  In  all  probability 
the  tombs  of  private  persons  were  not  entirely  covered  up  and 
hidden  away,  as  those  of  the  kings  were,  for  many  years  after 
their  deaths. 

We  have  one  instance  in  the  tomb  of  Aahmes, 
son  of  Abana,  the  admiral  of  king  Aahmes  in  the 
war  against  the  Hyksos,  at  el-Kab.  In  it  we  see 
a  portrait  of  his  grandson,  the  well-known  Paheri, 
and  an  inscription  which  says :  '  Lo  !  here  is  the  son 
of  his  daughter,  the  director  of  the  works  of  this 
tomb  as  making  to  live  the  name  of  the  father  of 
his  mother,  the  scribe  of  the  reckonings  of  Amen, 
Paheri,  deceased.'  From  this  we  know  that  he 
embellished  his  grandfather's  tomb  as  well  as 
constructed  his  own,  and  we  see  that  an  inscription 
about  him  could  be  inserted  on  the  walls  of  the 
earlier  tomb  after  his  death  even,  which  shows  that 
at  least  the  hall  of  offerings  in  a  tomb  usually 
remained  accessible  to  the  relatives  of  the  deceased 
for  generations  after   his  death.      Thus,   indeed, 


462 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Egyptian; 


may  the  Egyptians  well  have  felt  satisfaction  in 
seeing  the  coffins  which  contained  their  dead,  and 
have  regarded  the  dead,  to  a  certain  extent,  as 
contemporaries,  as  Diodorus  says  they  did,  though 
we  know  that  they  never  looked  upon  the  actual 
bodies  themselves,  as  he  seems  to  think.  Yet 
that  the  dead  were  actually  kept  in  the  houses 
for  some  time  before  their  burial  seems  certain, 
and  Lncian  gives  his  personal  testimony  to  the 
fact :  rapixetJa  5£  6  Alyvirrios'  ovtos  fiAvroi — \£y&  S' 
idihv — ^Tjpdvas  rbv  vtKpbv  ^ufdenrvov  Kal  %v[iirbn}v  eVot?}- 
euro  (de  Luctu,  §  21).  This  may  have  been  a  very 
ancient  custom, — we  may  compare  the  way  in 
which  barbarian  tribes  still  preserve  the  bodies  of 
their  dead  chiefs  or  the  dried  heads  of  their  enemies, 
e.g.  the  Dayaks  of  Borneo, — but  we  have  no 
illustration  of  it  on  the  Egyptian  monuments,  and 
we  cannot  doubt  that  Diodorus'  account  is  due  to 
a  misunderstanding.  The  '  storehouse '  in  which 
Herodotus  says  the  body  was  kept  {8i)t?avplfomi  iv 
otK-fifiarL  dTjKaly,  laT&vres  dpdbv  -rrpbs  tolxov  [see  above]) 
may  either  be  a  place  for  the  temporary  storage  of 
the  mummy,  or  the  actual  tomb.  The  detail  as 
to  the  position  of  the  coffin  might  seem  to  point 
to  the  former  alternative,  as  the  proper  thing  for 
the  coffin  was  to  be  placed  horizontally  on  the 
ground  ;  but  in  later  times  it  would  seem  that  the 
coffin  was  often  actually  placed  on  end  in  the  tomb, 
probably  to  economize  space.  Diodorus  gives  the 
same  detail  about  placing  the  coffin  on  end,  but 
says  that  this  was  done  in  a  chamber  which  those 
who  had  not  private  tombs  built  on  to  their  houses, 
in  order  to  contain  the  mummy.  Now  it  seems 
very  probable  that  something  of  this  sort  was  done 
by  poorer  Egyptians.  Children  are  often  found 
buried  under  the  floors  of  the  ancient  houses,  and 
during  his  recent  examinations  among  the  brick 
ruins  of  the  ancient  Thebes  burnt  by  the  generals 
of  Esarhaddon  in  668  B.C.,  Legrain  found  a  burial 
chamber  containing  a  mummy  with  ushabtiu  of 
the  7th  century  B.C.  This  was  undoubtedly  a 
chamber  built  on  to  a  house.  Perhaps  this  may 
be  the  explanation  of  Herodotus'  oU-qixa  8-qKoiov, 
and  of  Diodorus'  apparent  statement  as  to  the 
retention  of  the  body  for  a  long  period  above 
ground.  Ordinarily,  however,  the  body  of  a  well- 
to-do  person  would  be  buried  in  a  tomb  when  the 
period  of  mourning  was  over  and  the  tomb  ready, 
till  which  time  it  was,  no  doubt,  kept  in  a  special 
chamber  in  the  house.  The  time  between  the 
death  and  the  actual  burial  is  given  differently  by 
different  authorities  as  from  three  to  ten  months. 
According  to  Gn  50s,  the  embalming  occupied  forty 
days,  and  the  period  of  mourning  seventy  days. 

With  regard  to  the  actual  funeral  ceremonies 
Diodorus  (l.  93)  gives  some  details  which  are  not 
borne  out  by  the  monuments,  and  are  evidently  due 
to  misunderstanding.  His  description  of  the  exag- 
gerated mourning  at  the  death  of  a  king  is  pro- 
bably correct,  but  the  details  about  the  funeral 
oration  pronounced  over  the  body  by  the  priests, 
and  the  liberty  allowed  to  the  people  to  express 
their  disapproval  of  a  bad  king  and  so  prevent  his 
proper  burial,  have  no  actual  authority  to  back 
them  up,  and  seem  highly  improbable.  Yet  we 
have  a  curious  sentence  in  the  inscription  describing 
the  battle  of  Momemphis,  in  which  Amasis  says 
that  he  gave  Apries  proper  burial,  '  in  order  to 
establish  him  as  a  king  possessing  virtue,  for  His 
Majesty  decreed  that  the  hatred  of  the  gods 
should  be  removed  from  him' — which  seems  to 
tally  somewhat  with  Diodorus'  statement.  Evi- 
dently a  king  not  considered  to  be  neb  menkh, 
'possessing  virtue,'  could  be  debarred  proper  buriai 
as  an  Osirian.  But  the  judge  would  doubtless  be 
a  successful  rival  or  usurper,  not  the  common 
people.  No  doubt  all  usurpers  had  not  always 
been  so  politic  as  Amasis  was,  and  we  know  that 


the  bodies  of  rival  kings  were  often  torn  from  their 
tombs  and  cast  to  the  winds  by  their  enemies, 
whether  usurpers  or  '  usurpees  ' :  Amenmeses,  of 
the  XlXth  Dynasty,  is  an  instance  in  point. 

A  funerary  ceremon}'  of  very  peculiar  character  which  was 
actually  carried  out  in  the  case  of  the  kings  is  not  mentioned  by 
Diodorus.  This  is  the  remarkable  '  Festival  of  the  End '  (liter- 
ally, 'of  the  Tail '),  or  Heb-sed.  It  would  seem  that  in  primitive 
times,  as  has  been  the  case  among  many  semi-savage  peoples,  the 
Egyptian  king  was  not  allowed  to  live  beyond  a  certain  term. 
He  was  then  killed,  and  another  took  his  place  upon  the  throne, 
only  to  be  killed  himself  eventually  unless  he  died  or  was  killed 
before  his  term  had  expired.  The  term  was  one  of  thirty  years  ; 
at  the  end  of  his  thirty  years'  reign  the  monarch  was  solemnly 
murdered  and  buried  with  all  pomp  and  ceremony.  But,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  human  ushabtiu  mentioned  above,  the  growing 
humanity  of  later  days,  and  doubtless  the  growing  reluctance 
of  the  kings  to  let  themselves  be  slaughtered,  brought  about  a 
compromise.  The  king  was  no  longer  killed,  but  all  the  para- 
phernalia of  the  ceremony  of  his  '  end '  were  preserved :  he  him- 
self celebrated  his  own  funeral  ceremony,  and  performed  mystic 
ceremonies  before  his  own  image  as  Osiris  beneath  the  standard 
of  the  funerary  wolf-god  of  Siut,  Upuaut  (sometimes  called  Sedi, 
the  god  'with  the  tail ').  At  the  same  time  his  eldest  son  or  other 
heir-apparent  was  usually  associated  with  him  on  the  throne,  so 
that  a  new  king  appeared  in  fact  as  well  as  in  theory.  We  have 
illustrations  of  the  '  Festival  of  the  End '  from  the  time  of  king 
Den,  or  Udimu,  of  the  1st  Dynasty ;  well-known  later  repre- 
sentations of  it  are  taken  from  the  temple  of  Axnenhetep  in.  at 
Sulb  in  Nubia  and  the  '  Festival  Hall '  of  Osorkon  n.  at  Bubastis. 
In  later  times  the  festival  lost  all  significance,  and  Ramses  n. 
and  other  kings  celebrated  it  at  far  shorter  intervals  than  thirty 
years.  In  the  old  days,  even  so  late  as  the  time  of  the  Middle 
Kingdom,  so  far  did  the  pretence  of  killing  and  burying  the  old 
king  go,  that  very  probably  an  actual  Heb-sed  tomb  was  made 
for  his  supposed  dead  body,  a  statue  which  was  ferried  over  the 
river  and  carried  in  procession  to  the  sed-temple  and  tomb.  It 
may  well  be  that  the  funerary  temple  of  king  Mentuhetep  Neb- 
hetep-Ra,  of  the  Xlth  Dynasty,  discovered  by  Naville  and  the 
present  writer  at  Deir  el-Bahari  in  1903,  is  in  reality  a  heb-sed 
temple :  the  great  hypogaeum  beneath  its  western  hall,  which 
they  called  a  '  Aa-sanctuary '  or  a  '  cenotaph,'  may  then,  if  it  is 
not  the  actual  tomb,  be  the  heb-sed  tomb  of  the  king,  and  the 
neighbouring  tomb  called  the  Bab-el-Hosdn  may  be  the  heb-sed 
tomb  of  another  king  of  the  dynasty. 

Connected  with  Diodorus'  statement  as  to  the 
popular  judgment  of  the  virtue  of  a  deceased  king 
is  his  remarkable  description  of  the  carrying  of 
the  body  of  every  man  to  a  certain  lake,  where  it 
was  judged  by  forty  judges,  before  whom  any  one 
could  make  accusations  against  the  dead  man :  if 
these  were  substantiated,  he  was  adjudged  un- 
worthy of  proper  burial ;  if  not,  his  traducers  were 
heavily  mulcted,  and  his  body  was  placed  in  a 
baris,  or  boat,  and  ferried  across  the  lake  to  the 
place  of  burial.  There  is  no  doubt  whatever  thai 
nothing  of  this  kind  actually  took  place,  and  that 
Diodorus  or  his  informants  were  misled  into  think- 
ing that  the  judgment  of  the  dead  man  by  Osiris 
and  his  forty-two  assessors  happened  upon  earth 
instead  of  in  the  next  world :  the  lake  and  the 
boat  are  equally  taken  from  the  pictures  of  the 
'  Book  of  the  Dead.'  A  full  description  of  what  is 
known  to  us  from  Egyptian  sources  as  to  the  real 
proceedings  at  the  funeral  of  an  Egyptian  of  high 
rank  will  be  found  in  Wallis  Budge's  book  The 
Mummy,  p.  153  ff.  This  account  is  based  largely 
upon  the  evidence  of  the  well-known  '  Papyrus  of 
Ani,'  in  the  British  Museum. 

In  accordance  with  Egyptian  conservatism  in 
religious  matters,  the  bier  and  the  various  chests 
containing  canopic  jars,  etc.,  which  were  borne  to 
the  tomb,  were  not  till  a  comparatively  late  period 
placed  upon  wheels.  The  ancient  sledge-runners 
of  the  days  before  the  invention  of  the  wheel  were 
still  used  when  the  funerary  rites  were  elaborated, 
and,  when,  at  a  later  period,  wheeled  carriages 
were  introduced  for  the  funerary  procession,  the 
old  sledge-runners  were  still  preserved,  and  the 
wheels  were  placed  beneath  them.  Oxen  were 
used  to  drag  the  carriages  to  the  tomb.  The  chief 
priestly  participants  in  the  procession  and  in  the 
rites  performed  at  the  tomb  were  the  kher-heb,  or 
'  cantor,'  as  the  word  is  sometimes  translated,  the 
sem  or  setem,  and  the  an-mut-f.  The  kher-heb 
seems  to  have  acted  as  a  sort  of  general  director  of 
the  funeral ;  he  was  often  a  relative  of  the  deceased. 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Egyptian) 


463 


He  read  the  appointed  prayers  and  spells.  The 
function  of  the  an-mut-f  is  not  clear.  He  seems  to 
have  represented  the  god  Osiris,  and  walked  in  the 
procession,  bearing  the  crook  and  flail,  the  emblems 
of  the  god.  The  sem  had  very  peculiar  duties. 
On  the  night  before  final  burial,  after  the  pro- 
cession, he  proceeded  to  the  tomb,  and  there  laid 
himself  down  to  sleep,  covered  with  the  mystic 
cow-skin,  before  the  upright  coffin  containing  the 
mummy.  During  his  sleep  he  was  supposed  to 
'see  all  the  transformations  of  the  god,  i.e.  the 
dead  man,  in  the  next  world.  In  the  morning 
three  persons  preceded  the  procession  and  solemnly 
aroused  the  sem,  who  then  took  part  with  the 
kher-heb  in  a  sort  of  antiphonal  service,  in  which 
the  two  took  the  parts  of  Horus  and  Isis,  that 
of  Osiris  probably  being  taken  by  the  an-mut-f. 
Finally  the  sem,  donned  the  skin  of  a  leopard,  and 
performed  the  very  important  ceremony  of  the 
'  Opening  of  the  Mouth  and  Eyes,'  in  order  that  the 
dead  man  might  be  able  to  see  and  eat  the  offerings 
brought  to  him.  The  '  opening '  was  performed  by 
touching  the  mouth  and  eyes  of  the  mummy  with 
a  model  adze  or  chisel  of  antique  form.  The 
ordinary  ceremonies  of  offering  at  the  grave  were 
performed  by  the  hen-lea,  or  '  servant  of  the  ghost,' 
in  the  case  of  a  private  person  a  near  relative,  in 
that  of  the  king  a  regularly  appointed  priest. 
The  funerary  chapels  of  the  kings  had  broad  lands 
assigned  to  them  for  their  maintenance,  and  in  the 
time  of  the  XlXth  Dynasty  developed  into  huge 
temples,  of  which  the  Ramesseum  and  Medinet 
Habu  at  Thebes  are  examples.  These,  like  the 
royal  tombs,  were  decorated  with  funerary  sub- 
jects taken  from  the  Theban  '  Books  of  the  Under 
World,'  already  mentioned  ;  but  in  the  royal 
temples  scenes  of  the  ordinary  life  of  the  monarch 
were  also  introduced.  The  private  tombs  are 
almost  exclusively  decorated  with  such  scenes,  as 
they  had  been  in  earlier  days. 

An  interesting  circumstance  in  connexion  with 
the  funerary  chapels  and  tombs  may  be  mentioned 
here.  Since  Osiris  had  become,  in  succession  to 
Anubis,  pre-eminently  the  god  of  Abydos,  the 
necropolis  of  that  place  became,  so  to  speak,  the 
metropolis  of  the  under  world,  to  which  all  ghosts 
who  were  not  its  rightful  citizens  would  come  from 
afar  to  pay  their  court  to  their  ruler.  So  the  man  of 
substance  would  have  a  monumental  tablet  put  up 
to  himself  at  Abydos  as  a  sort  of  pied-a-terre,  even 
if  he  could  not  actually  be  buried  there  ;  while  for 
the  king,  who,  for  reasons  chiefly  connected  with 
local  patriotism,  was  buried  near  the  city  of  his 
earthly  abode,  a  second  tomb  would  be  erected,  a 
stately  mansion  in  the  city  of  Osiris,  in  which  his 
ghost  could  reside  when  it  came  to  Abydos.  We 
know  that  both  Senusret  III.  and  Aahmes  I.  had 
second  tombs,  which  they  never  occupied,  made 
for  them  at  Abydos;  queen  Teta-shera,  grand- 
mother of  Aahmes,  had  an  imitation  pyramid 
made  for  her  there  by  her  grandson  (see  ANCESTOR- 
WORSHIP  [Egyptian],  B) ;  and  it  is  by  no  means 
improbable  that  the  so-called  royal  '  tombs '  of  the 
kings  of  the  1st  Dynasty,  the  contents  of  which  have 
already  been  described,  were  in  reality  cenotaphs 
also,  the  monarchs  being  buried  elsewhere.  And 
Seti  I.  and  Ramses  II.  had  funerary  chapels  at 
Abydos,  which,  as  at  Thebes,  are  large  temples. 

From  this  sketch  it  will  be  seen  that,  in  spite  of 
the  conservatism  of  the  Egyptians,  especially  in 
such  matters  as  these,  considerable  development 
and  alteration  took  place  in  their  burial  customs 
and  cult  of  the  dead  during  the  course  of  centuries. 
A  difference  is  noticeable  between  the  appurten- 
ances of  the  mummy  under  the  Old  and  Middle 
Kingdoms  and  under  the  New  Kingdom.  In  the 
earlier  period  ushabtiu  of  the  conventional  type 
were  rare,  dug  wooden  models  of  boats  and  boat- 


men, butchers  and  bakers  at  work,  field-labourers, 
soldiers,  women  carrying  baskets,  and  other  figures 
of  the  same  kind,  which  were  all  ushabtiu,  were 
de  rigueur.  Under  the  New  Kingdom  these  all 
disappear,  with  the  exception  of  an  occasional 
boat,  and  their  place  is  taken  by  the  boxes  of  con- 
ventional ushabtiu  in  the  form  of  a  mummy  hold- 
ing two  hoes  for  agricultural  work  in  the  next 
world,  and  by  a  much  greater  number  of  amulets 
than  had  been  usual  before.  Chief  among  these 
were  the  '  pectoral '  and  the  '  heart-scarab,'  often 
combined  in  one,  and  inscribed  with  a  certain 
chapter  of  the  '  Book  of  the  Dead.'  The  ordinary 
small  scarab  is,  of  course,  constantly  found,  but  was 
quite  as  much  an  amulet  of  the  living  as  of  the 
dead.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  commoner  as  an 
amulet  of  the  dead  under  the  Middle  Kingdom 
than  under  the  New  Kingdom.  The  names  of 
dead  persons  are  constantly  commemorated  on 
scarabs  of  the  Middle  Kingdom,  very  rarely  on 
those  of  the  later  period,  except  during  the  Sai'te 
archaistic  revival.  It  must  be  remembered  that, 
although  the  idea  of  the  design  or  inscription  on 
the  base  of  a  scarab  was  originally  derived  from 
the  inscription  of  a  seal,  and  although  actual 
scarabs  were  often  used  as  seals,  yet  the  scarab 
itself  was  always  an  amulet,  typifying  '  coming 
into  being '  or  ■  re-birth,'  expressing  the  hope 
that  the  '  members '  of  a  man  would  ultimately 
re-unite  in  a  new  life. 

From  the  time  of  the  Theban  domination  on- 
wards, papyri  containing  chapters  of  the  '  Book  of 
the  Dead  were  always  buried  with  the  mummy,  so 
that  he  could  have  with  him  his  guide  to  the  next 
world  and  its  dangers.  In  earlier  times  this  was 
not  done  ;  only  in  the  case  of  kings  were  the  older 
series  of  spells,  out  of  which  '  The  Book  of  Coming 
Forth  from  the  Day '  developed,  inscribed  upon  the 
walls  of  their  tombs.  These  are  known  to  us  as  the 
'  Pyramid  Texts,'  and  they  are  a  most  interesting 
monument  of  the  archaic  stage  of  the  Egyptian 
language.  Later  such  kings,  as  we  have  seen, 
had  the  spells  of  '  The  Book  of  the  Gates '  and 
'  The  Book  of  That-which-is-in-the-Underworld ' 
similarly  painted  on  the  walls  of  their  tombs. 
The  style  of  mummification  and  of  the  coffin  varied 
at  different  periods :  the  great  rectangular  coffins 
and  sarcophagi  of  the  early  period  are  very  differ- 
ent from  the  gaily  painted  cartonnage  coverings 
and  coffins  in  the  human  shape  which  were  usual 
in  later  days.  Later  still  a  casket-like  form  was 
again  preferred,  and  in  the  Roman  period  painted 
portraits  of  the  dead,  either  on  flat  panels  or 
modelled  in  plaster  in  the  round,  were  inserted 
in  the  coffins.  The  ushabtiu,  which  from  the 
XlXth  to  the  XXIInd  Dynasty  often  repre- 
sented the  deceased  in  his  habit  as  he  lived, 
not  as  a  mummy,  in  later  days  reverted  to  the 
mummy-form,  till  in  early  Ptolemaic  days  their 
use  was  practically  abandoned.  One  of  the  latest 
known  (now  in  the  British  Museum)  is  of  the 
Roman  period :  it  is  of  faience,  but  very  rude 
in  style,  and  bears  in  Greek  letters  the  simple 
inscription  Swrrjp  vairrns  —  '  Soter,  a  sailor. '  By 
this  time  the  Egyptian  mummies  and  funerary 
ceremonies  had  become  the  theme  of  the  half- 
derisive  wonder  of  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  in- 
deed we  need  hardly  be  surprised  at  the  derision,  for 
the  whole  spirit  and  practice  of  the  ancient  rites 
had  degenerated  utterly  and  they  became  mere 
ridiculous  exhibitions,  while  the  ideas  which  they 
were  supposed  to  express  became  the  sources  of 
religious  charlatanism  and  more  or  less  humbug- 
ging '  philosophies.'  So  Egypt  'expired,  a  driveller 
and  a  show.' 

Literature.— Generally,  E.  A.  W.  Budge,  The  Booh  of  the 
Dead,  London,  1898,  The  Egyptian  Heaven  and  Hell,  do.  1906, 
The  Mummy.  Cambridge,  1893  ;  A.  Erman,  Egyptian  Religion, 


464 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Europe,  Pre-historic) 


London,  1907 ;  A.  Wiedemann,  Kel.  of  the  Anc.  Egyptians, 
do.  1897.  On  the  burial  customs  of  the  Neolithic  period  : 
Wiedemann  in  J.  de  Morgan,  Recherches  sur  les  origines  de 
VEgypte,  vol.  ii.  '  Ethnographic  prehistorique,'  Paris,  1897,  ch. 
v. ;  D.  Randall-Maciver  and  A.  C.  Mace,  El  Amrah  and 
Abydos,  1899-1901,  London,  1902;  and  G.  A.  Reisner,  Early 
Dynastic  Cemeteries  of  Naga  ed-D6r,  do.  1908.  On  the  royal 
'  burials '  of  the  1st  Dynasty  at  Abydos,  and  the  ideas  of  the 
future  state  connected  with  them,  see  L.  W.  King  and  H.  R. 
Hall,  Egypt  and  Western  Asia  in  the  Light  of  Recent  Discov- 
eries, London,  1907,  p.  58  ff.  On  the  temple  of  Mentuhetep  ill. 
at  Deir  el-Bahari,  E.  Naville,  H.  R.  Hall,  and  E.  R.  Ayrton, 
The  Eleventh  Dynasty  Temple  at  Deir -el-Bahari,  pt.  i.,  London, 
1907;  and  King-Hall,  op.  cit.  p.  ci20ff.  On  the  burial  of  Iuaa 
and  Tuyu,  see  T.  M.  Davis,  The  Tomb  of  louiya  and  Touiyou, 
London,  1907.  H.    R.    HALL. 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 
(Europe,  Pre-historic). —  I.  Palaeolithic  period. — 
Owing  to  the  negative  evidence  of  archaeological 
researches,  there  are  no  data  with  which  to  combat 
the  supposition  that  during  the  earlier  stages  of 
the  evolution  of  humanity  little  or  no  attention 
was  paid  to  the  disposal  of  the  dead,  the  deceased 
members  of  a  family  or  community  being  simply 
abandoned  by  the  way,  like  those  of  the  lower 
animals.  Nor  is  it  known  in  what  precise  phase 
of  social  culture  the  custom  of  burial  became  re- 
cognized as  a  sacred  duty  of  the  survivors,  for  it 
is  still  a  debatable  problem  among  archaeologists 
whether  the  reindeer  hunters  of  the  Palaeolithic 
period,  who  frequented  the  caves  and  rock-shelters 
of  the  Dordogne  and  other  parts  of  Western  Europe, 
were  in  the  habit  of  systematically  burying  their 
dead  The  few  human  remains  hitherto  encoun- 
tered in  the  debris  of  these  inhabited  sites, 
which  are  accepted  without  cavil  as  belonging  to 
the  people  of  that  period,  are  held  by  some  archae- 
ologists to  be  those  of  persons  who  had  been  ac- 
cidentally killed  by  the  fall  of  materials  from 
overhanging  rocks,  and  their  skeletons  are  now 
occasionally  met  with  under  circumstances  which 
clearly  establish  the  above  sequence  of  events. 
On  the  other  hand,  those  which  show  from  in- 
herent evidence  that  they  had  been  intentionally 
deposited  in  the  Palaeolithic  debris  and  attended 
with  sepulchral  rites  are  still  regarded  by  some 
anthropologists  as  interments  of  later  times.  The 
three  well-known  skeletons  found  in  the  rock- 
shelter  of  Cro-Magnon  have  long  been  regarded 
as  representing  the  people  of  the  later  Palaeolithic 
period  ;  but,  as  they  were  lying  on  the  surface  of 
the  culture  strata  of  the  shelter,  in  a  small  open 
space  between  it  and  the  roof  which  only  became 
covered  up  by  a  subsequent  talus,  they  are  now 
often  regarded  as  belonging  to  the  Neolithic  period. 

That  Neolithic  people  were  in  the  habit  of 
burying  their  dead  in  caves  formerly  inhabited  by 
Palaeolithic  races  has  been  frequently  noticed  and 
recorded  by  explorers.  Thus,  in  the  upper  strata 
of  the  debris  in  the  Schweizersbild  rock-shelter,  a 
Neolithic  civilization  was  attested,  not  only  by 
a  characteristic  assortment  of  relics,  but  also  by  the 
fact  that  the  shelter  had  been  latterly  made  use  of 
as  a  cemetery  which  contained  no  fewer  than  22 
interments.  The  graves  were  dug  into  the  under- 
lying Palaeolithic  deposits,  and  ten  of  them  con- 
tained the  remains  of  children,  as  well  as  those  of 
adults.  Fourteen  adult  skeletons  reported  on  by 
Kollmann  belonged  to  two  very  different  races,  one 
of  a  fair  size  (5  ft.  3  in.),  and  the  other  so  small 
as  to  be  characterized  as  a  race  of  pygmies.  Dr. 
Niiesch,  the  explorer  of  this  rock-shelter,  thought 
that  man  in  the  Neolithic  time  visited  it  only  for  the 
purpose  of  burying,  or  perhaps  cremating,  the  dead 
— an  idea  suggested  to  him  by  the  large  quantity 
of  ashes  in  the  upper  strata.  It  would  appear,  from 
the  facts  disclosed  during  the  exploration  of  this 
early  inhabited  site,  that  there  had  been  no  dis- 
continuity in  the  human  habitation  of  this  part 
of  Switzerland  since  the  reindeer  hunters  made 


this  rock-shelter  their  rendezvous  up  to  the  Bronze 
Age ;  but  no  evidence  of  systematic  burial  had 
been  detected  till  the  true  forest  fauna  of  the 
Neolithic  period  had  taken  possession  of  the  land 
{Neue  Denkschriften  der  allgem.  schweizerischen 
GesMschaft  fur  die  gesammten  Naturwissen- 
schaften,  vol.  xxxv.). 

The  celebrated  station  of  Solutre  (Sa6ne-et- 
Loire),  which  has  given  its  name  to  one  of  the 
intermediate  phases  of  Palaeolithic  civilization  in 
de  Mortillet's  classification,  had  also  been  subse- 
quently utilized  as  a  cemetery  up  to,  if  not  beyond, 
Roman  times ;  but,  although  some  of  the  graves 
were  clearly  shown  by  their  contents  to  be  of 
greater  antiquity  than  others,  it  was  impossible 
to  assign  any  of  them  with  certainty  to  the 
Solutreen  period.  Moreover,  the  cephalic  indices 
of  18  crania  submitted  to  Broca  varied  from  68 '34 
to  88  26 — an  extent  of  variability  which  could  be 
better  accounted  for  by  a  post-  than  by  a  pre- 
Neolithic  population. 

Palaeolithic  burials. — Formerly  it  was  commonly 
held  among  anthropologists  that  the  Palaeolithic 
people  had  no  religion.  But  a  fresh  examination 
of  old  materials  and  some  more  recent  discoveries 
supply  data  which  modify  this  deduction,  if,  indeed, 
they  do  not  prove  the  contrary.  It  is  difficult  to 
epitomize  the  facts  and  arguments  thus  raised,  but 
the  effort  must  be  made,  as  otherwise  our  evidence 
would  resolve  itself  into  a  series  of  bare  assertions. 

The  sepulchral  phenomena  associated  with  some 
of  the  human  skeletons  disinterred  in  the  Mentone 
caves  (Balzi-Rossi),  notably  those  known  under  the 
names  of  Barma  Grande  and  La  Grotte  des  Enfants, 
leave  no  doubt  that  the  bodies  had  been  intention- 
ally buried  with  their  personal  ornaments,  coiffures, 
necklets,  pendants,  etc.,  made  of  perforated  shells, 
teeth,  fish  vertebrae,  pieces  of  ivory,  etc.  Among 
the  grave-goods  discovered  along  with  some  of  these 
skeletons,  were  one  or  two  well-formed  implements 
of  flint,  which  differed  from  those  met  with  in  the 
surrounding  matrix  in  being  made  of  large  flakes 
of  foreign  material,  and  showing  a  style  of  work- 
manship more  akin  to  the  Neolithic  period.  The 
discovery  of  two  skeletons,  of  a  negroid  type,  in 
the  Grotte  des  Enfants,  which  Verneau  describes 
as  belonging  to  a  new  race,  intermediate  between 
those  of  Neanderthal  and  Cro-Magnon,  marks  an 
important  addition  to  human  palaeontology. 

The  Chancelade  skeleton,  found  in  the  small 
rock-shelter  of  Raymonden  (Dordogne)  and  de- 
scribed as  that  of  a  man  of  about  60  years  of  age, 
lay  at  a  depth  of  5  ft.  from  the  surface,  in 
Magdalenien  debris,  on  the  left  side,  with  the 
hands  and  knees  strongly  bent  towards  the  face. 

L'Homme  icrasi  de  Laugerie  Basse  (Dordogne) 
is  here  noted,  because  the  evidence  is  conclusive 
that  during  life  this  individual  had  been  crushed, 
probably  while  asleep,  by  a  fall  of  rock  from  the 
roof,  and  that  consequently  the  victim  must  have 
been  contemporary  with  the  Magdalenien  debris  in 
which  he  reposed.  He  lay  on  his  side,  with  the 
knees  bent  upwards  in  front  of  the  breast,  and 
appeared  to  have  been  adorned  with  a  series  of 
shells  distributed  symmetrically  on  different  parts 
of  his  person.  The  corner  of  a  great  stone,  part 
of  a  fallen  mass,  lay  across  his  spine,  and  doubtless 
had  caused  his  death,  as  the  underlying  bones  were 
crushed. 

A  remarkable  contrast  to  the  skeletons  of 
Chancelade  and  Laugerie  Basse  is  that  recently 
found  in  a  small  grotto  at  La  Chapelle-aux-Saints 
(Correze). 

It  is  described  as  that  of  an  aged  man,  about  5  ft.  3  in.  in 
height,  who  had  been  buried  in  a  prepared  grave  beneath 
a  bed  of  undisturbed  Mousterien  debris,  12  to  16  in.  thick. 
The  grave  measured  4  ft.  8  in.  in  length,  3  ft.  3  in.  in  breadth, 
and  1  foot  in  depth.  The  body  lay  on  the  back,  with  the  legs 
bent  upwards,  the  right  hand  flexed  under  the  head,  and  the 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Europe,  pre-historic)         465 


left  extended.  Around  the  body  were  bones  of  various  animals 
broken  for  their  marrow,  together  with  a  few  flint  scrapers 
and  bone  pointers — Buppoaed  to  have  been  the  remains  of  a 
funeral  feast  (L' Anthropologic,  xix.  619). 

Another  skeleton,  which  has  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  that  just  described,  was  recently  found 
in  the  under  strata  of  the  rock-shelter  of  Le 
Moustier,  in  the  upper  valley  of  the  Vezere. 

It  is  described  as  having  been  buried  intentionally  in  the 
attitude  of  sleep,  beneath  undisturbed  strata  of  Mousterien 
age.  The  right  arm  was  folded  under  the  head,  and  the 
left  extended.  Near  the  left  hand  lay  a  pointed  flint  implement 
of  the  coup-de-poing  type  (6|  in.  long),  and  a  little  further 
on  a  flint  scraper.  The  cranium  ie  described  as  having  the 
osteological  characters  of  the  Neanderthal  and  Spy  skulls. 
The  face  was  strongly  prognathic,  and  there  was  no  chin.  The 
skeleton  was  that  of  a  young  man,  about  4  ft.  10  in.  in  height, 
whoBe  wisdom  teeth  had  not  yet  been  fully  developed.  Bones 
of  various  animal9,  some  of  them  being  described  as  partially 
calcined,  were  close  to  the  body.  Both  the  discoverers  and 
Dr.  Klaatsch,  who  examined  this  skeleton,  formed  the  opinion 
that  it  had  been  intentionally  buried  with  sepulchral  rites 
(ZE,  1909,  p.  637). 

A  further  discovery  of  a  portion  of  a  human 
skull  has  been  announced,  at  a  place  called 
Coinbe-Capelle,  near  the  town  of  Montferrand- 
du-Perigord  (Dordogne).  From  its  osseous  char- 
acters and  associated  relics  this  individual  is 
regarded  as  occupying  a  chronological  horizon 
intermediate  between  the  Mousterien  and  Mag- 
dalen ien  periods. 

It  is  a  fact  of  some  significance  that  all  the 
races  hitherto  recognized  as  coming  within 
the  Palaeolithic  range  of  Western  Europe  are 
dolichocephalic,  and  that  brachycephalic  skulls 
are  rarely  found  outside  Neolithic  burials,  and 
then  only  in  deposits  of  the  transition  period,  to 
which  reference  will  now  be  made. 

2.  Transition  period. — Outside  the  haunts  of 
these  highly  skilled  hunters,  artists,  and  workers 
in  stone  and  bone,  there  existed,  in  certain  parts 
of  Europe,  other  communities,  probably  emanating 
from  the  same  stock,  who,  owing  to  the  exigencies 
of  a  changing  climate  and  the  gradual  dis- 
appearance of  wild  animals  from  the  plains,  began 
to  exploit  new  sources  of  food,  which,  in  the  course 
of  time,  caused  a  considerable  divergence  in  their 
domestic  economy.  Thus,  while  the  Chelleen  and 
Mousterien  culture  relics  can  be  more  or  less 
paralleled  throughout  the  whole  of  Southern 
Europe,  the  artistic  phases  of  the  later  civilization 
of  the  reindeer  hunters  are  not  forthcoming  be- 
yond a  limited  area,  mostly  in  Southern  France. 
Implements  of  Mousterien  types  have  been  found 
in  the  Mentone  caves,  but  not  a  trace  of  the 
relics  characteristic  of  the  Magdalenien  stations  of 
France ;  and  yet  both  sets  of  cave-dwellers  may 
have  been  contemporary. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  feature  of  the 
investigation  of  the  '  kitchen  middens '  of  Mugem, 
in  the  valley  of  the  Tagus,  was  the  discovery  of 
upwards  of  a  hundred  interments  at  various  depths 
in  the  shell-mounds ;  but  it  does  not  appear  that 
any  special  grave-goods  had  been  associated  with 
them. 

From  the  data  at  our  disposal  the  point  of  most 
importance  to  the  present  inquiry  is  that  the 
recently  discovered  skeletons  at  Moustier  and 
Chapelle  -  aux  -  Saints,  which  undoubtedly  were 
survivals  of  the  earlier  types  of  humanity,  appear 
to  have  been  interred  with  sepulchral  rites,  so 
circumstantially  carried  out  as  to  suggest  that 
they  were  founded  on  an  already  established  cult 
<jf  the  dead.  But,  however  this  may  be,  it  can- 
not be  gainsaid  that,  during  the  Neolithic  civi- 
lization, there  is  unmistakable  evidence  to  show 
that  the  disposal  of  the  dead  had  become  a  sacred 
obligation  on  the  surviving  relatives  and  friends. 
By  this  time  the  sepulchral  materials  are  over- 
whelmingly conclusive  in  support  of  the  doctrine 
that  religiosity  and  a  belief  in  a  future  life  were 
vol.,  iv. — 30 


the  dominating  factors  in  the  social  organizations 
of  the  period. 

3.  Neolithic  period.  —  During  the  Neolithic 
period  the  cult  of  the  dead  prevalent  among  the 
peoples  of  Western  Europe  was  the  outcome  of 
psychological  ideas  which  linked  human  affairs 
with  the  souls  of  men,  animals,  and  things  in 
the  spirit  world.  The  writer  agrees  with  the 
animistic  theory  of  Tylor,  which  represents  man 
as  first  attaining  to  the  idea  of  spirit  by  reflexion 
on  various  physical,  psychological,  and  psychical 
experiences,  such  as  sleep,  dreams,  trances,  shadows, 
hallucinations,  breath,  and  death,  and  so  gradually 
extending  the  conception  of  soul  or  ghost  till  all 
Nature  is  peopled  with  spirits.  However  this 
may  be,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  religion 
of  these  pre-historic  peoples,  as  disclosed  by  their 
sepulchral  remains,  involved  a  belief  in  inter- 
communications between  mankind  and  the  super- 
natural world.  When  a  prominent  man  died,  bin 
weapons,  ornaments,  and  other  cherished  objects 
were  placed  in  the  tomb  along  with  suitable  viands 
for  his  supposed  journey  to  the  Unseen  World ; 
and,  indeed,  there  is  evidence  to  show  that  in 
some  instances  his  favourite  wives,  slaves,  and 
pet  animals  were  sacrificed,  and  buried  in  different 
parts  of  the  mound.  The  selected  grave-goods 
were  appropriate  to  the  standing  and  tastes  of  the 
individual,  so  much  so  that  on  this  ground  alone 
the  graves  of  distinguished  men,  women,  and 
children  are  readily  recognizable.  Such  facta 
undoubtedly  suggest  that  the  people  of  those 
times  did  not  regard  life  beyond  the  grave  as 
differing  widely  from  that  on  earth.  To  them 
death  was  the  portal  to  the  community  of  de- 
parted heroes  and  friends,  to  which  they  looked 
forward,  across  the  span  of  human  life,  with  hope- 
ful anticipation  of  a  more  perfect  state  of  exist- 
ence. Hence  the  abodes  of  the  dead  were 
considered  of  greater  importance  than  those  of 
the  living.  Constructed  of  the  most  durable 
materials,  and  generally  placed  on  a  commanding 
eminence  so  as  to  be  seen  from  afar,  the  tomb 
became  an  enduring  memorial  for  many  genera- 
tions, till  eventually  its  actual  purpose  and 
meaning  became  lost  amidst  the  changing  vistas 
of  succeeding  ages.  One  of  the  most  common 
and  effective  methods  of  perpetuating  the  memory 
of  the  dead  was  by  rearing  a  mound  of  stones  or 
earth  over  the  grave.  To  this  custom  we  owe 
some  of  the  grandest  monuments  in  the  world's 
history — the  Pyramids  of  Egypt,  the  topes  and 
dagobas  of  India,  the  mighty  mounds  of  Silbury 
and  New  Grange,  the  megalithic  circles  of  Stone- 
henge  and  Avebury,  together  with  the  numberless 
rude  stone  monuments  known  as  dolmens,  crom- 
lechs, menhirs,  etc.,  scattered  along  the  western 
coasts  of  Europe  and  extending  into  Africa. 
To  comprehend  fully  the  motives  which  underlay 
the  construction  of  ancient  sepulchral  monuments, 
it  would  be  necessary  to  examine  not  only  their 
structural  peculiarities  and  contents,  but  also  their 
surface  accessaries,  such  as  stone  circles,  cairns, 
mounds,  menhirs,  earthen  ditches,  etc.  Although 
a  strong  family  likeness  permeates  the  whole  series 
in  Western  Europe,  they  differ  so  widely  in 
certain  districts  that  to  deal  with  their  local 
peculiarities  and  distribution  alone  would  entail 
at  least  as  many  chapters  as  the  number  of 
countries  within  that  area.  Then  the  attentions 
paid  to  the  dead  before,  at,  and  subsequent  to, 
the  burial  disclose  a  wide  field  of  speculative 
research,  involving  the  foundations  of  religion, 
ancestor- worship,  and  general  cult  of  the  dead. 

( 1 )  Inhumation  and  cremation.  —  Pre-historic 
sepulchres  vary  so  much  in  form,  structure,  posi- 
tion, and  contents  that  to  make  a  systematic 
classification  of  them  on  the  lines  of  their  chrono- 


466  DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Europe,  pre-historie) 


logical  development  is  almost  an  impossibility. 
One  special  element  which  complicates  such  an 
inquiry  was  the  custom  of  cremating  the  dead, 
which  appears  to  have  originated  in  Eastern  lands, 
and  to  have  spread  westwards,  reaching  the  British 
Isles  towards  the  close  of  the  Stone  Age.  This 
practice,  of  course,  introduced  various  innovations 
on  the  sepulchral  customs  previously  in  vogue. 
Burial  by  inhumation,  which,  according  to  Green- 
well,  was  much  more  common  in  the  Yorkshire 
Wolds,  is  thus  described  by  that  veteran  ex- 
plorer : 

*  It  [the  unburnt  body]  is  almost  always  found  to  have  been 
laid  upon  the  side,  in  a  contracted  position,  that  is,  with  the 
knees  drawn  up  towards  the  head,  which  is  generally  more  or 
less  bent  forward :  the  back,  however,  is  sometimes  quite 
straight.  So  invariable  is  this  rule,  that  out  of  301  burials  of 
unburnt  bodies,  which  I  have  examined  in  the  barrows  of  the 
Wolds,  I  have  only  met  with  four  instances  where  the  body 
had  been  laid  at  full  length '  (British  Barrows,  p.  22).  '  In 
most  cases  there  is  nothing  to  protect  the  body  againBt  the 
pressure  of  the  overlying  soil,  but  now  and  then  a  few  large 
blocks  of  flint  or  thin  slabs  of  chalk  have  been  placed  round  it, 
thus  forming  a  kind  of  rude  covering ;  and  from  the  appearance 
of  the  earth  immediately  in  contact  with  the  bones,  it  would 
seem  that  turfs  had  sometimes  been  laid  over  the  corpse' 
(ib.  p.  13). 

On  the  other  hand,  when  the  body  was  cremated, 
the  incinerated  remains  were  carefully  collected 
and  usually  placed  in  an  urn,  and  then  buried. 
When  no  urn  was  used,  the  remains  were  laid  in 
a  little  heap,  either  in  the  grave,  over  which  a 
mound  was  subsequently  raised,  or  in  a  hole  in 
earth  already  consecrated  to  the  dead,  such  as  a 
former  barrow.  The  corpse,  thus  reduced  to  a 
few  handfuls  of  ashes  and  burnt  bones,  required 
no  great  space  for  its  preservation  either  in  a 
public  cemetery  or  in  a  family  burying-ground. 
Hence  sprang  up  a  tendency  to  diminish  the  size 
of  the  grave,  and  thus  megalithie  chambers  gave 
place  to  short  stone  cists  containing  the  body 
placed  in  a  contracted  position. 

Simple  inhumation,  i.e.  placing  the  body  in  a 
hole  in  the  earth  and  re-covering  it  with  the  exca- 
vated earth,  was  probably  the  earliest  method  of 
disposing  of  the  dead ;  and  to  mark  the  site  the 
survivors  naturally  raised  over  the  spot  a  mound 
of  earth  or  stones.  Among  a  sedentary  popu- 
lation the  next  step  in  advance  would  be  to  pro- 
tect the  body  from  the  pressure  of  the  surrounding 
earth.  This  was  usually  done  by  lining  the  grave 
with  flagstones  set  on  edge,  over  which  a  larger 
one  was  placed  as  a  cover,  thus  forming  the  well- 
known  cist ;  sometimes,  instead  of  flagstones, 
wooden  planks  were  used  in  the  shape  of  a  rude 
coffin.  The  material  used  was  not  always  a  matter 
of  choice,  but  rather  depended  on  what  was  most 
readily  procurable  in  the  neighbourhood.  Green- 
well  tells  us  that  in  the  Yorkshire  Wolds  the 
stone  cist,  so  common  in  other  parts,  was  almost 
entirely  wanting,  because  in  chalk  districts  the 
requisite  slabs  were  unprocurable.  On  the  other 
hand,  wood  is  so  liable  to  decay  that  it  is  rare  to 
find  evidence  of  its  having  been  used. 

On  one  occasion  the  writer  of  this  article  was  present  at  the 
excavation  of  a  barrow,  near  Bridlington,  under  the  guidance 
of  Greenwell,  and  on  reaching  the  primary  interment  there 
was  only  a  large  empty  cavity,  with  nothing  but  the  enamel 
of  a  few  teeth  lying  on  the  floor  to  show  that  a  burial  had 
taken  place.  Greenwell,  however,  soon  cleared  up  the  mystery 
bypointingout  the  unmistakable  impression  of  wood  en  beams 
on  the  clay  walls  of  the  empty  space,  which,  doubtless,  had 
formed  some  kind  of  coffin.  A  few  instances  of  tree  coffins 
have  been  discovered  both  in  this  country  and  on  the  Continent. 
One  well-known  specimen  from  a  barrow  at  Gristhorpe  is  now 
preserved  in  the  Scarborough  Museum.  It  consisted  of  the 
trunk  of  a  large  oak,  7^  ft.  long  and  3  ft.  3  in.  wide,  roughly 
hewn  and  split  into  two  portions ;  one  of  the  portions  was 
hollowed  out  to  make  room  for  the  corpse,  and  the  other 
formed  the  lid  of  this  improvised  coffin.  Among  the  grave- 
goods  were  a  small  bronze  dagger,  3£  m.  long,  containing  2 
rivet  holes  for  the  handle,  fragments  of  a  ring  and  of  an  oval 
disk  both  of  horn,  together  with  a  few  flint  objects  (Jewitt, 
Grave  Mounds,  p.  48).  Another  remarkable  discovery  of  a 
grave  was  made  at  Treenhoi,  in  Jutland,  which  contained  a 
woollen  garment,  leg  bandages,  a  horn  comb,  a  small  bronze 


knife,  and  a  bronze  sword  in  its  wooden  sheath.  The  whole  of 
the  deposit  in  the  grave  was  wrapped  up  in  a  large  deer-skin, 
which  probably  had  served  as  the  warrior's  outer  cloak 
(Worsaae,  Danish  Arts,  London,  1882,  p.  52). 

The  stone-lined  cist  is  perhaps  the  most  widely 
distributed  type  of  early  grave  known.  From  this 
to  the  megalithie  chamber,  with  its  sepulchral  com- 
partments, entrance  passage,  and  superincumbent 
cairn,  was  an  easy  transition.  But  the  chrono- 
logical sequence  thus  suggested  is  of  little  value 
in  dating  these  monuments  throughout  the  British 
Isles,  as  there  is  evidence  to  show  that  some  of 
the  chambered  cairns  and  long  barrows  were 
constructed  before  the  introduction  of  crema- 
tion. Thus,  in  the  counties  of  Gloucester,  Wilts, 
Somerset,  and  some  neighbouring  localities,  there 
are  chambered  cairns  in  which  the  primary  burials 
were  by  inhumation,  and  the  human  skulls  found 
in  them  belonged  to  a  dolichocephalic  race. 
Similar  chambered  cairns,  containing  remains  of 
a  dolichocephalic  race,  have  been  found  in  the 
Island  of  Arran  ;  but  as  regards  the  analogous 
groups  of  sepulchral  monuments  further  north, 
such  as  those  m  the  counties  of  Argyll,  Inverness, 
Sutherland,  Caithness,  and  the  Orkneys,  it  is 
conclusively  proved  that  cremation  and  inhuma- 
tion were  contemporary  from  the  very  beginning ; 
and  the  same  remarks  apply  to  the  dolmens  of 
Ireland.  It  would  thus  appear  that,  subsequent 
to  the  erection  of  the  early  chambered  cairns  of 
the  Stone  Age  in  Britain,  there  was  a  period  of 
degradation  in  this  kind  of  sepulchral  architecture, 
during  which  the  well-known  barrows  of  the 
Bronze  Age  became  the  prevailing  mode  of  burial. 

In  Scandinavia  the  Giant  graves  belonged  to 
the  Stone  Age,  but  gave  place  during  the  Bronze 
Age  to  large  stone-lined  cists,  suitable  for  more 
than  one  corpse.  Finally,  in  the  early  Iron  Age, 
both  these  monuments  were  discarded  for  simple 
burial,  either  by  inhumation  or  after  cremation ; 
and  there  were  then  raised  huge  earthen  tumuli, 
such  as  the  mounds  of  Thor,  Odin,  and  Freya  at 
Gamla  Upsala,  and  the  ship  barrow  at  Gokstad. 
The  dolmens  of  the  Iberian  Peninsula,  known  as 
antas  in  Portugal,  belonged  to  the  Stone  Age, 
and  their  interments,  which  were  almost  ex- 
clusively of  unburnt  bodies,  showed  that  the 
people  who  constructed  them  were  a  dolicho- 
cephalic race — a  remark  which  also  applies  to  the 
cave  burials  of  that  country,  some  of  which  were 
older  than  the  dolmens.  Cremation  appeared  at 
a  comparatively  late  period  in  the  Bronze  Age, 
probably  owing  to  the  distance  of  the  Iberian 
Peninsula  from  the  seat  of  its  supposed  origin. 

The  primary  object  of  inhumation  might  have 
been  nothing  more  than  protection  of  the  corpse 
from  enemies  and  wild  beasts ;  but,  in  the 
evolution  of  the  grave  from  a  mere  hole  in  the 
earth  up  to  the  elaborately  constructed  chambered 
cairn,  we  must  seek  for  a  higher  motive  than  a 
pious  act  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  a  departed 
friend.  The  general  idea  entertained  by  archaeo- 
logists on  the  subject  is  that  the  grave  was  looked 
upon  as  also  the  temporary  abode  of  the  ghost, 
who  was  supposed  to  hover  around  the  corpse  till 
the  natural  decay  of  the  latter  had  been  completed 
— a  process  which  took  some  time,  and  entailed  on 
the  ghost  the  irksome  ordeal  of  passing  through 
a  sort  of  purgatory,  or  intermediate  stage,  between 
this  life  and  that  of  the  spirit-world.  It  is  now 
surmised  that  the  effect  of  fire  had  long  been  known 
as  a  means  of  purifying  not  only  the  body,  but 
also  the  soul,  from  the  pollution  which  death 
brings  with  it — an  opinion  which  may  account 
for  the  finding  of  so  large  a  number  of  partially 
burnt  bodies  in  graves,  even  before  cremation 
was  generally  adopted.  As  soon  as  it  became 
fully  realized  that  burning  was  merely  a  speedy 
method  of  accomplishing  the  dissolution   of  the 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Europe,  pre-historic) 


467 


body, — now  regarded  as  nothing  more  than  a  mass 
of  corrupt  matter, — cremation  became  the  cul- 
minating point  of  a  religious  cult,  which  taught 
that  it  was  a  most  desirable  object  to  set  free  the 
soul  from  its  association  with  the  corpse  as  speedily 
as  possible. 

But,  whatever  were  the  motives  which  led  to 
the  adoption  of  cremation,  whether  religious  or 
sanitary,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  burial  by 
inhumation  was  associated  with  religious  rites 
and  ceremonies  long  before  its  introduction  into 
Western  Europe.  Subsequently  both  methods 
were  practised  concurrently  during  the  whole  of 
the  Bronze  Age,  and  down  to  the  time  when 
Christianity  superseded  paganism.  According  to 
classical  writers,  the  Greeks  and  Romans  practised 
both  methods,  but  in  fluctuating  proportions, 
probably  due  to  the  influence  of  fashion  or  current 
religious  opinions.  That  cremation  was  more 
prevalent  among  the  richer  classes  was  partly  due 
to  its  being  an  expensive  process,  and,  therefore, 
beyond  the  means  of  the  common  people.  But  one 
has  to  be  cautious  in  drawing  deductions  founded 
on  motives,  as  the  predominance  of  one  or  other 
of  these  burial  customs  varied  in  separate  districts, 
even  within  such  a  limited  area  as  the  Wolds 
of  Yorkshire.  On  this  point  Greenwell  writes 
{op.  cit.,  p.  21): 

'  In  some  localities  on  the  Wolds  it  has  been  seen  that 
cremation  prevailed,  though  inhumation  was  the  general 
custom  throughout  the  whole  district.  In  other  parts  of 
Yorkshire,  however,  cremation  was  all  but  universal ;  as,  for 
instance,  in  Cleveland,  where  Mr.  Atkinson's  very  extensive 
investigations  did  not  produce  a  single  instance  of  an 
unburnt  body ;  and  near  Castle  Howard,  where  a  large  series 
of  barrowB  contained  nothing  but  burnt  bodies.' 

Burial  mounds  are  called  '  cairns '  when  their 
constructive  material  consists  of  small  stones,  and 
'  barrows '  when  that  material  is  ordinary  soil ; 
but  not  infrequently  both  substances  were  used 
in  the  same  mound — a  small  cairn  being  often 
inside  an  earthen  barrow.  Their  great  diversity 
in  external  form  gave  rise  to  a  number  of  qualifying 
epithets,  such  as  'long,'  'round,'  'oval,'  'bell- 
shaped,'  etc.  Sometimes  the  mound  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  ditch,  or  a  stone  circle,  or  both ; 
and  instances  are  on  record  in  which  one  or 
both  of  these  features  were  found  within  the 
area  covered  by  the  mound.  Also,  an  inter- 
ment, whether  by  inhumation  or  after  crema- 
tion, may  be  found  beneath  the  natural  surface 
without  any  superincumbent  mound,  or  any 
surface  indications  whatever.  At  other  times, 
when  the  mound  or  cairn  is  absent,  a  standing 
stone,  or  a  circle  of  stones  or  of  earth,  or  a  ditch 
may  indicate  the  site  of  a  burial.  Sometimes  the 
mound  may  be  raised  over  an  interment,  whether 
burnt  or  unburnt,  which  had  been  simply  laid  on 
the  surface  of  the  ground.  At  other  times  a  mound, 
seemingly  of  earth,  and  covered  with  vegetation, 
may  contain  a  megalithic  chamber  with  an  entrance 
passage,  and  sometimes  divided  into  sepulchral 
compartments.  Structures  of  the  latter  kind 
were  evidently  family  vaults,  and  often  contained 
the  osseous  remains  of  several  generations.  As 
the  abodes  of  the  dead,  specially  adapted  for  the 
burial  of  unburnt  bones,  were  continued  after 
cremation  began  to  be  practised,  it  often  happens 
that  both  burnt  and  unburnt  remains  are  found 
in  the  same  barrow.  We  have  already  seen  that 
the  earliest  interments  in  the  chambered  cairns 
in  the  North  of  Scotland  were  burnt  bodies. 

(2)  Dolmens. — Among  the  sepulchral  monuments 
still  extant  in  Europe,  the  megalithic  graves, 
known  as  '  dolmens,'  take  the  first  place,  not 
only  for  the  wealth  of  evidential  materials  which 
they  have  supplied,  but  also  on  account  of  their 
great  number,  imposing  appearance,  and  wide 
geographical     distribution.      A    dolmen,     in    its 


simplest  form,  may  be  defined  as  a  rude  stone 
monument,  consisting  of  at  least  3  or  4  stones, 
standing  a  few  feet  apart,  and  so  placed  as  to  be 
covered  over  by  one  megalith,  called  a  capstone 
or  table. 

A  well-known  example  of  this  kind  in  England  is  Kits  Ooity 
House,  near  Maidstone,  which  in  its  present  condition  consists 
of  three  large  free-standing  stones  supporting  a  capstone 
measuring  11  ft.  by  8  ft.  Originally  the  spaces  between  the 
supports  had  been  filled  up  by  smaller  stones,  so  as  to  enclose 
a  small  sepulchral  chamber,  and  after  interment  the  whole  was 
then  covered  over  by  a  mound  of  earth,  but  without  an 
entrance  passage. 

Between  this  simplest  form  and  the  so-called 
Giants'  Graves,  Grottes  des  Ftes,  Allies  couvertes, 
Hunnebedden,  etc.,  there  is  an  endless  but  regular 
gradation  of  structures  in  proportion  to  the  number 
of  supports  and  capstones  used. 

The  well-known  AlUe  couverte  of  Bagneux,  near  the  town 
of  Saumur,  measures  18  metres  in  length,  6'60  in  breadth,  and 
3  in  height.  It  is  constructed  of  huge  flagstones,  standing  on 
edge,  4  on  each  side,  with  4  capstones — the  largest  of  which 
measures  7  "50  metres  in  length,  7  in  breadth,  and  1  in  thickness. 
Another,  near  Esse  (Ille-et-Vilaine),  called  La  Roche  aux  Fees, 
and  about  the  same  length,  is  constructed  of  thirty  supports 
and  eight  capstones,  including  the  vestibule. 

Although  many  of  these  free-standing  dolmens 
show  no  signs  of  having  been  at  any  time  embedded 
in  a  cairn  or  mound,  some  archaeologists  maintain 
that  that  was  the  original  condition  of  all  of  them — 
a  theory  which  derives  some  support  from  their  pre- 
sent dilapidated  condition,  for  many  of  them  may 
be  seen  throughout  the  whole  area  of  their  distribu- 
tion in  all  stages  of  denudation.  Were  the  materials 
which  compose  the  tumulus  of  New  Grange,  in 
Ireland,  removed,  leaving  only  the  large  stones  of 
which  its  entrance  passage  and  central  chambers 
are  constructed,  there  would  be  exposed  to  view 
a  rude  stone  monument  similar  in  all  essentials  to 
that  at  Callernish  in  the  Island  of  Lewis. 

The  covered  dolmens  greatly  vary  in  shape  and 
appearance,  owing  to  vegetation  and  other  natural 
surface  changes ;  and,  as  to  size,  they  range 
from  that  of  an  ordinary  barrow — a  few  yards  in 
diameter — up  to  that  of  New  Grange,  which  rises, 
in  the  form  of  a  truncated  cone,  to  a  height  of 
70  ft.,  with  a  diameter  at  the  base  of  315  ft.  and 
of  120  ft.  at  the  top.  Silbury  Hill  is  170  ft.  in  height, 
and  over  500  ft.  in  diameter  at  the  base. 

There  is  no  rule  as  to  the  position  of  the  entrance 
gallery,  it  being  attached,  sometimes  to  the  side, 
as  in  the  Giant  s  Grave  at  Oem,  near  Roskilde,  in 
Denmark,  and  sometimes  to  the  end,  as  in  the 
tumulus  of  Gavr'inis  (Morbihan).  The  Drenthe 
Hunnebedden,  which  in  the  present  day  are  all 
uncovered,  had  both  ends  closed  and  the  entrance 
passage  on  the  side  facing  the  sun,  as  was  the  case 
in  all  the  dolmens. 

Ruined  dolmens  are  abundantly  met  with  in  the  provinces 
of  Hanover,  Oldenburg,  and  Mecklenburg.  According  to 
Bonstetten,  no  fewer  than  200  are  distributed  over  the  three 
provinces  of  Liineburg;  Osnabruck,  and  Stade ;  but  the  most 
gigantic  specimens  are  in  the  Duchy  of  Oldenburg.  In  Holland 
they  are  confined,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  to  the  province 
of  the  Drenthe,  where  between  60  and  60  still  exist.  The  Borgen 
Hunnebed,  the  largest  of  the  group,  is  70  ft.  long,  14  ft.  wide, 
and  in  its  primitive  condition  contained  45  stones,  ten  of  which 
were  capstones. 

In  Scandinavia  the  dolmens  are  confined  to  Danish  lands  and 
a  few  provinces  in  the  south  of  Sweden.  In  the  former  country, 
in  addition  to  the  great  chambered  tumuli,  free-standing  dolmens 
may  be  seen  situated  on  the  tops  of  artificial  mounds,  and 
surrounded  by  enclosures  of  standing  stones  either  in  the  form 
of  a  circle  (Rundysser)  or  oval  (Langdysser). 

Only  one  dolmen  has  been  recorded  in  Belgium,  but  in 
France  their  number  amounts  to  close  on  4000,  irregularly  dis- 
tributed over  78  Departments,  of  which  no  fewer  than  618  are 
in  Brittany.  From  the  Pyrenees  they  are  sparsely  traced  along 
the  north  and  west  coast  of  Spain,  through  Portugal  and  on  to 
Andalusia,  where  they  occur  in  considerable  numbers.  The 
most  remarkable  monument  of  the  kind  in  Spain  is  that  near 
the  village  of  Antequera,  situated  a  little  to  the  north  of  Malaga. 
The  chamber  is  slightly  oval  in  shape,  and  measures  24  metres 
long,  6*16  metres  broadband  from  2*7  metres  to  3  metres  high. 
The  entire  structure  comprises  31  monoliths — ten  on  each  side, 
one  at  the  end  and  five  on  the  roof.  The  huge  stones  are  made 
of  the  Jurassic  limestone  of  the  district,  and,  like  those  of 
Stonehenge,  appear  to  have  been  more  or  less  dressed.     The 


468 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Europe,  pre-historic) 


entire  structure,  now  partially  exposed,  was  originally  covered 
with  earth,  forming  a  mound  100  ft.  in  diameter.  In  Africa, 
dolmens  are  met  with  in  large  groups  throughout  Morocco, 
Algeria,  and  Tunis.  According  to  General  Faidherbe,  who  has 
examined  five  or  six  thousand  specimens,  they  are  quite 
analogous  to  those  on  the  European  Continent,  with  the  excep- 
tion that,  in  his  opinion,  none  of  them  had  been  covered  with 
a  mound  (Congres  Internat.,  1872,  p.  408).  In  Great  Britain, 
Ireland,  and  the  Channel  Islands  every  type  of  the  sepulchral 
monument  is  met  with,  especially  chambered  cairns,  stone 
circles,  and  barrows. 

The  manner  in  which  these  sepulchral  monu- 
ments are  distributed  along  the  Western  shores  of 
Europe,  to  the  exclusion  of  central  parts  of  the 
Continent,  in  which  no  dolmens  are  found,  has 
given  rise  to  the  theory  that  they  were  erected  by 
a  migratory  race  called  '  the  people  of  the  dolmens,' 
moving,  according  to  some,  from  Scandinavia  to 
Africa,  and,  according  to  others,  in  the  opposite 
direction.  But  this  theory  has  fallen  into  disrepute. 
Their  magnitude  and  local  differences  in  structure, 
even  in  districts  bordering  on  each  other,  show 
that  their  builders  were  a  sedentary  population. 
Besides,  the  skeletons  found  in  their  interior  be- 
longed to  different  races.  Against  the  theory 
advanced  by  Aubrey  and  Stukeley,  that  these  rude 
stone  monuments  had  been  used  as  Druidical  altars, 
there  is  prima  facie  evidence  in  the  care  taken  by 
their  constructors  to  have  the  smoothest  and 
flattest  surface  of  the  stones  composing  the  chamber 
turned  inwards.  Also,  cup-marks  and  other 
primitive  markings  when  found  on  capstones  are 
invariably  on  their  under  side,  as  may  be  seen  on 
the  dolmens  of  Keriaval,  Kercado,  and  Dol  au 
Marchant  (Morbihan). 

(3)  Cromlechs. — The  word  'cromlech,'  as  used 
by  some  English  archaeologists,  is  almost  synonym- 
ous with  '  dolmen '  ;  but,  as  defined  by  Continental 
authorities  and  adopted  by  the  present  writer  in 
this  article,  it  is  exclusively  applied  to  enclosures 
(enceintes),  constructed  of  rude  standing  stones 
placed  at  intervals  of  a  few  feet  or  yards,  and 
arranged  roughly  on  a  circular  plan — circle,  oval, 
horse-shoe,  or  rectangle.  In  this  sense  it  compre- 
hends the  class  of  monuments  known  in  this 
country  under  the  name  of  '  Stone  Circles '  or 
'  Circles  of  Standing  Stones.'  Stone  circles  are, 
or  were  formerly,  more  numerous  in  the  British 
Isles  than  elsewhere  in  Europe.  They  generally 
consist  of  one  line  of  stones,  but  not  infrequently 
two  or  more  circles  are  arranged  concentrically, 
as  may  he  seen  in  those  at  Kenmore  near  Aberfeldy, 
and  Callernish  in  the  Island  of  Lewis.  At  Avebury 
one  large  circle,  1200  ft.  in  diameter,  surrounds 
two  other  circles  placed  eccentrically  to  the  former, 
and  each  containing  a  second  circle  arranged  con- 
centrically. 

Cromlechs  may  also  be  associated  with  align- 
ments, menhirs,  and  other  megalithic  monuments, 
as  at  Carnac,  Callernish,  etc.  In  the  British  Isles, 
Scandinavia,  some  Departments  of  France,  and 
elsewhere,  they  surround  dolmens,  tumuli,  and 
cairns.  Outside  the  ordinary  stone  circle  there 
is  often  a  ditch,  as  at  Avebury,  Stonehenge,  Arbor 
Low,  Ring  of  Brogar,  etc.  The  most  remarkable 
monument  under  this  category  now  extant  is 
Stonehenge,  which  differs  from  all  others  of  its 
kind  in  having  the  monoliths  of  the  outer  circle 
partially  hewn  and  connected  at  the  top  by  trans- 
verse lintels.  That  most  of  the  smaller  circles  have 
been  used  as  sepulchres  has  been  repeatedly  proved 
by  the  finding  of  urns,  burnt  bones,  and  skeletons, 
sometimes  deposited  in  the  centre  and  sometimes 
at  the  base  of  the  standing  stones,  or  indeed  any- 
where within  the  circular  area.  It  is  difficult  to 
believe  that  burial  was  the  sole  purpose  of  the 
large  cromlechs  such  as  Avebury,  Stonehenge,  the 
Giant's  King  near  Belfast,  Mayborough  near 
Penrith,  etc.  This  last  consists  of  a  circular 
mound   composed  of  an  immense  aggregation  of 


small  stones  in  the  form  of  a  gigantic  ring,  en- 
closing a  flat  space  300  ft.  in  diameter,  to  which 
there  is  access  by  a  wide  break  in  the  ring. 
Near  the  centre  of  the  area  there  is  a  fine  mono- 
lith, one  of  several  known  to  have  formerly 
stood  there.  It  is  more  probable  that  such  en- 
closures were,  like  our  modern  churches,  used  not 
only  as  cemeteries,  but  for  the  performance  of 
religious  ceremonies  in  connexion  with  the  cult 
of  the  dead. 

(4)  Sepulchral  caves. — The  custom  of  burying 
the  dead  in  natural  caves,  to  which  we  have 
already  referred  as  having  been  met  with  in  the 
Palaeolithic  period,  was  continued  throughout  the 
Neolithic  and  Bronze  Ages.  Discoveries  of  this 
character  have  been  recorded  in  numerous  localities 
throughout  Europe,  and  especially  in  France. 
Professor  Boyd  Dawkins  informs  us  that  the  most 
remarkable  examples  of  caves  used  as  sepulchres 
in  Britain  are  to  be  found  in  a  group  clustering 
round  a  refuse-heap  at  Perthi-chwareu,  a  farm  high 
up  in  the  Welsh  hills,  in  Denbighshire : 

'  The  human  remains  belong  for  the  most  part  to  very  young 
or  adolescent  individuals,  from  the  small  infant  to  youths  of 
21.  Some,  however,  belong  to  men  in  the  prime  of  life.  All 
the  teeth  that  had  been  used  were  ground  perfectly  flat.  The 
Bkulls  belong  to  that  type  which  Professor  Huxley  terms  the 
"river-bed  skull."  All  the  human  remains  had  undoubtedly 
been  buried  in  the  cave,  since  the  bones  were  in  the  main 
perfect,  or  only  broken  by  the  large  stones  which  had  subse- 
quently fallen  from  the  roof.  From  the  juxtaposition  of  one 
skull  to  a  pelvis,  and  the  vertical  position  of  one  of  the 
femora,  as  well  as  the  fact  that  the  bones  lay  in  confused  heaps, 
it  is  clear  that  the  corpses  had  been  buried  in  the  contracted 
posture,  as  is  usually  the  case  in  Neolithic  interments.  And, 
since  the  area  was  insufficient  for  the  accommodation  of  so  many 
bodies  at  one  time,  it  is  certain  that  the  cave  had  been  used  as 
a  cemetery  at  different  times.  The  stones  blocking  up  the 
entrance  were  probably  placed  as  a  barrier  against  the  inroads 
of  wild  beasts.  .  .  .  The  Neolithic  age  of  these  interments  is 
proved,  not  merely  by  the  presence  of  the  stone  axe  or  of  the 
flint  flakes,  but  by  the  burial  in  a  contracted  posture,  and  the 
fact  that  the  skulls  are  identical  with  those  obtained  from 
chambered  tombs  in  the  South  of  England  proved  to  be  Neolithic 
by  Dr.  Thurnara  '  (Cave-Hunting,  pp.  155-158). 

The  same  writer  describes  similar  remains  from 
caves  in  the  limestone  cliffs  of  the  beautiful  valleys 
of  the  Clwyd  and  the  Elwy,  near  St.  Asaph.  He 
has  also  shown  that  the  people  who  buried  their 
dead  in  these  caverns  were  of  the  same  race  as  the 
builders  of  the  neighbouring  chambered  tomb  of 
Cefn,  just  then  explored.  The  crania  and  limb 
bones  were  identical,  and  in  both  the  tomb  and 
caves  the  dead  were  buried  in  a  contracted  posi- 
tion. 

In  Scotland,  human  remains  regarded  as  sepul- 
chral have  been  found  in  some  caves  at  Oban,  which 
had  been  exposed  by  quarrying  operations  at  the 
foot  of  the  cliff  overhanging  the  ancient  raised 
beach  on  which  part  of  the  town  is  built.  In  one 
of  these  caves  (M 'Arthur  Cave),  along  with  some 
fragmentary  skeletons,  were  two  skulls  sufficiently 
preserved  to  enable  Sir  William  Turner  to  take 
correct  measurements  of  their  special  character, 
from  which  it  appears  that  their  owners  belonged 
to  a  dolichocephalic  race,  their  cephalic  indices 
being  70 '2  and  75  4.  Although  no  grave-goods  are 
known  to  have  been  associated  with  these  bodies, 
there  is  sufficient  evidence  from  collateral  pheno- 
mena to  show  that  the  chronological  horizon  to 
which  they  must  be  assigned  is  the  Neolithic 
period. 

Of  all  the  countries  of  Western  Europe,  France 
has  yielded  by  far  the  largest  number  of  burials 
under  this  category.  De  Mortillet,  writing  in 
1883  (Le  Prihistorique,  p.  598),  states  that  he  could 
count  117  in  France  distributed  over  36  Depart- 
ments, 24  in  Belgium,  8  in  Italy,  and  only  1  or  2 
specimens  in  each  of  the  other  countries. 

The  following  epitomized  notices  of  one  or  two 
examples  will  give  the  reader  some  general  idea 
of  the  importance  attached  to  this  class  of  sepul- 
chral remains  : 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Europe,  pre-historic) 


469 


In  the  course  of  exploring  the  natural  cave  of  Casa  da  Moura, 
near  Lisbon,  a  large  quantity  of  human  bones,  representing 
some  160  individuals,  was  disinterred.  It  appears  that  the 
Neolithic  inhabitants  had  converted  the  grotto  into  a  cemetery 
— which  would  account  for  the  large  number  of  bodies  it  con- 
tained. The  bones  were  much  decayed,  only  three  or  four 
entire  skulls  being  amongst  them,  which  so  far  indicated  a 
dolichocephalic  race.  The  upper  portion  of  one  of  these  skulls 
is  of  exceptional  interest,  inasmuch  as  it  furnishes  positive 
evidence  of  having  been  partially  trepanned,  thus  disclosing 
the  initiatory  stage  of  the  method  of  performing  that  opera- 
tion (Cartailhac,  Les  Ages  prthistoriques  de  VEspagne,  p.  84). 

Of  the  French  caverns  which  contained  only  long  skulls,  the 
two  most  remarkable  are  those  of  L'Homme  filort  and  Baumes- 
Chaudes,  both  in  the  Department  of  Lozere.  In  the  former 
were  nineteen  skulls  sufficiently  well  preserved  to  furnish  the 
necessary  measurements.  Of  these  the  cephalic  indices  of 
seventeen  varied  from  68'2  up  to  76'7,  and  the  other  two  were 
78'5  and  78'8.  There  were,  therefore,  no  brachycephalic  skulls 
in  this  sepulchre,  so  that  the  race  appears  to  have  been  com- 
paratively pure.  It  may  also  be  mentioned  that  some  of  the 
crania  had  been  trepanned — a  feature  which,  though  at  first 
overlooked,  subsequently  became  the  subject  of  much  interest 
to  anthropologists.  The  animal  remains  were  those  of  the 
Neolithic  epoch,  but  among  them  were  none  of  the  reindeer, 
horse,  ox,  or  stag.  Among  the  relics  were  a  lance-head,  and  a 
portion  of  a  polished  stone  axe.  Drs.  Broca  and  Prunieres 
were  of  opinion  that  the  individuals  whose  remains  had  been 
consigned  to  this  ossuary  belonged  to  an  intermediate  race, 
who  flourished  in  the  transition  period  between  the  Palaeolithic 
and  Neolithic  civilizations,  and  thus  became  connecting  links 
between  the  people  of  the  reindeer  caves  and  the  dolmens. 

The  crania  recorded  from  the  station  known  as  Baumes- 
Chaudes  were  found  in  two  natural  caverns  distinct  from  each 
other,  but  opening  on  a  common  terrace.  They  contained  a 
vast  collection  of  human  bones,  representing  some  300  indi- 
viduals ;  but  both  were  regarded  by  the  investigators  as  the 
continuation  of  the  same  family  burying-place,  which,  indeed, 
had  not  been  altogether  abandoned  till  the  beginning  of  the 
Bronze  Age,  as  one  of  the  skeletons  in  the  upper  deposits  had 
beside  it  a  bronze  dagger.  In  one  of  these  caverns  only  chipped 
flints,  rude  implements  of  horn,  etc. ,  were  discovered  ;  but  in  the 
other  there  were  a  few  arrow-points,  a  bead,  some  roundlets  of 
deer-horn,  etc.,  which  suggested  some  progress  in  culture.  The 
crania  measured  and  classified  in  M.  Salmon's  list  from  the 
Baumes-Chaudes  ossuary  amount  to  thirty-five,  and  they  are 
all  dolichocephalic,  the  indices  varying  from  64 '3  to  76*1.  The 
average  height  of  this  race  was  calculated  to  be  about  5  ft. 
3Jin. 

As  examples  of  sepulchral  caverns  in  which  brachycephalic 
crania  formed  the  majority,  a  series  of  caverns  at  Hastieres  and 
Furfooz  in  Belgium  may  be  cited.  Of  33  skulls  from  the  former 
measured  by  Professor  Houze,  six  are  dolichocephalic,  eleven 
mesaticephalic,  and  sixteen  brachycephalic.  The  well-known 
cave  at  Furfooz  (Trou  du  Frontal)  was  merely  a  rock-shelter 
with  a  projecting  cavity  extending  inwards  for  some  2  metres, 
and  about  one  metre  in  height  and  one  metre  in  breadth,  and 
closed  in  front  by  a  large  slab.  This  cavity  was  filled  with 
human  bones  mixed  with  earth  and  stones,  but  none  of  the 
bones  retained  their  relative  positions  as  regards  the  rest  of  the 
skeleton,  so  that  dismemberment  must  have  taken  place  before 
their  final  deposition  in  the  cave.  From  the  number  of  lower 
jaws,  whole  or  broken,  it  was  calculated  that  this  sepulchre 
contained  16  individuals,  of  whom  5  were  children.  The 
cephalic  index  of  some  of  the  skulls  was  over  80.  A  disturbing 
element  in  the  conclusions  suggested  by  this  discovery  was  the 
presence  of  fragments  of  pottery  among  the  contents  of  the 
cave  ;  while  outside  the  slabstone  there  was  an  accumulation  of 
debris  and  food  refuse,  which,  judging  from  the  fauna  repre- 
sented by  its  osseous  remains,  belonged  to  the  Palaeolithic 
period.  Hence,  at  the  time,  the  human  remains  of  Furfooz 
were  regarded  as  belonging  to  that  period — an  opinion  which 
is  no  longer  held,  as  the  sepulchre  is  now  admitted  to  be  of  the 
Neolithic  age  (Rev.  de  Ticole  d'anthr.,  1895,  p.  165  f.). 

Artificial  eaves  used  for  sepulchral  purposes  have 
also  been  discovered  in  certain  Departments  of 
France,  more  especially  those  with  chalky  forma- 
tions, like  the  Marne  district.  Here  upwards  of 
a  dozen  stations,  each  containing  a  number  of 
artificial  caves  excavated  in  the  flanks  of  low 
hillocks,  have  been  most  successfully  explored  by 
Baron  de  Baye  (see  his  Archiologie  prihistorique, 
1880).  Among  some  hundreds  of  interments, 
over  120  crania,  including  various  trepanned 
specimens  and  cranial  amulets,  have  been  col- 
lected and  are  now  preserved  in  the  Chateau  de 
Baye.  Associated  with  them  were  a  number  of 
implements,  weapons,  and  ornaments  of  Neolithic 
types,  such  as  stone  axes  and  their  handles,  arrow 
points,  flint  knives,  bone  pointers,  polishers,  beads 
and  pendants  of  amber,  bone,  stone  (one  of  callais, 
like  those  of  the  tumuli  of  Brittany),  fossil  shells, 
teeth,  and  so  on.  Of  the  crania,  44  were  sub- 
mitted to  Dr.  Broca  for  examination,  and  are  thus 


classified: — dolichocephalic (71 '6 to 76 "7),  15;  mesati- 
cephalic, 17  ;  and  brachycephalic  (80  to  85'7),  12. 

Dr.  Broca  recognized  in  these  human  remains 
the  union  of  two  races  analogous  to  those  of 
Furfooz  and  Cro-Magnon — the  latter  having  al- 
ready been  identified  by  him  as  of  the  same  type 
as  the  dolichocephalic  people  of  L'Homme  Mort 
and  Baumes-Chaudes. 

Some  of  these  caves,  especially  those  of  Petit- 
Morin,  are  supposed  to  have  been  constructed  in 
imitation  of  the  dolmens,  as  they  were  preceded 
by  an  entrance  passage  and  occasionally  a  vestibule, 
from  which  a  low  door,  closed  with  a  stone  slab, 
led  to  the  sepulchral  chamber.  Baron  de  Baye 
thinks  that  some  of  them  had  been  used  as  habita- 
tions for  the  living  before  being  appropriated  to 
the  dead,  as  they  had  sometimes  niches  and  shelves 
cut  out  of  the  solid  chalk  walls,  on  which  various 
industrial  relics  had  been  deposited.  A  rudely 
executed  human  figure  with  a  bird-like  nose,  two 
eyes,  a  necklet,  and  breasts,  together  with  the  form 
of  a  stone  axe  in  its  handle,  was  sculptured  in 
relief  on  the  wall  of  the  vestibule  of  one  of  the 
larger  caves.  This  cave  appeared  to  have  been 
much  frequented,  as  the  threshold  was  greatly 
trodden  down  by  the  feet  of  visitors.  M.  Cartailhac 
explains  this  peculiarity  by  supposing  that  it  was 
a  place  for  temporarily  depositing  the  dead  before 
transferring  them  to  their  final  resting-place.  All 
these  caves  contained  abundance  of  relics  character- 
istic of  an  advanced  Neolithic  civilization,  but 
without  any  trace  of  metals,  and  the  surrounding 
neighbourhood  is  rich  in  flint  objects  of  that  period. 

Finally,  it  may  be  observed  that  sepulchral 
phenomena  and  grave-goods  associated  with  the 
artificial  caves  of  France  are  precisely  of  the  same 
character  as  those  of  the  neighbouring  dolmens  and 
natural  caves,  thus  conclusively  showing  that  all 
these  monuments  belonged  to  the  same  epoch  and 
the  same  civilization.  Their  relationship  to  the 
rock-cut  tombs  of  Egypt,  Etruria,  Palestine,  and 
other  countries,  we  must  leave  to  readers  to  work 
out  for  themselves. 

(5)  Grave-goods. — The  gifts  to  the  dead,  as 
already  mentioned,  bear  some  relationship  to  the 
social  position  among  the  community  in  which  the 
deceased  lived.  They  include  all  manner  of  things 
— ornaments,  weapons,  tools,  utensils,  pet  animals, 
and  even  the  wives  and  slaves  of  great  heroes. 
When  a  departed  friend  appeared  in  a  dream 
dressed  in  his  usual  garments  and  armed  with  his 
favourite  weapons,  it  was  natural  to  suppose  that 
these  objects,  as  well  as  their  owner,  had  shadowy 
existences  in  the  spirit  world.  From  this  it  is 
supposed  that  the  pre-historic  people  believed  that 
not  only  men,  but  animals  and  inanimate  objects, 
had  souls— a  belief  which  may  account  for  the 
frequency  with  which  weapons  and  other  grave- 
goods  were  broken. 

The  quality  of  grave-goods  varied  according  to 
the  culture  and  civilization  prevalent  at  the  time 
of  the  interment.  During  the  Stone  Age  they  con- 
sisted of  perforated  shells,  teeth,  pendants  of  ivory 
and  coloured  pebbles,  stone  axes,  spear-heads,  arrow 
points,  bone  pins,  buttons,  and  other  objects  of  the 
toilet.  During  the  Bronze  and  early  Iron  Ages,  to 
the  above  objects  were  added  necklets  made  of 
beads  of  jet,  amber,  and  coloured  glass,  rings, 
armlets,  and  fibulae  of  bronze,  and  sometimes  gold 
rings.  The  stone  weapons  gave  place  to  others 
made  of  metal.  In  the  absence  of  written  records, 
the  objects  thus  collected  and  collated  form  the 
principal  materials  on  which  archfeologists  base  a 
more  or  less  positive  system  of  chronology.  Among 
the  calcined  bones  of  cremated  subjects,  small 
articles  such  as  pins,  beads,  buttons,  etc. ,  are  occa- 
sionally found,  showing  that  the  corpse  had  been 
clothea  when   subjected   to  the   fire.     When   de- 


470 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Europe,  pre-historic) 


posited  in  the  earth  without  an  urn,  it  has  been 
argued  that  such  objects  had  been  used  for  binding 
the  cloth  or  skin  in  which  the  calcined  bones  were 
wrapped  up.  From  the  quantity  of  objects  some- 
times deposited  in  the  grave,  it  has  been  surmised 
that,  when  a  person  was  possessed  of  property  of 
rare  and  exceptional  value,  it  was  customary  to 
bury  it  along  with  him,  evidently  with  the  inten- 
tion of  its  being  utilized  in  the  world  of  spirits. 
As  an  illustration  of  this  the  following  notice  of  a 
remarkable  discovery  of  axes  made  of  jade  and 
other  materials  will  be  of  interest : 

The  tumulus  of  Mont-Saint-Michel,  which  occupies  a  con- 
spicuous position  among  the  Carnac  group  of  antiquities,  rises 
to  the  height  of  10  metres,  on  an  elongated  hase  measuring  H5 
metres  in  length  by  58  metres  in  breadth.  In  recent  times  the 
top  of  the  mound  was  flattened,  and  the  eastern  third  is  now 
occupied  by  a  chapel,  while  at  the  other  extremity  there  are 
the  ruins  of  a  modern  observatory.  In  1862  a  small  megalithic 
chamber,  some  two  metres  square  and  rather  less  than  one 
metre  in  height,  was  discovered,  and  on  the  floor  of  the  chamber, 
amidst  a  thick  deposit  of  dust,  the  following  objects  were  found  : 
(1)  Eleven  beautifully  polished  axes  of  jade,  varying  in  length 
from  9J  to  40  centimetres.  Two  of  these  celts  were  pierced 
near  the  point  for  suspension.  One  was  broken  into  three 
portions,  two  of  which  were  lying  at  one  end  of  the  crypt  and 
the  other  at  the  opposite  end.  (2)  Two  large  celts  of  a  coarser 
material,  both  broken.  (3)  Twenty-six  very  small  celts  of 
fibrolite.  (4)  Nine  pendants  of  jasper  and  101  beads  of  jasper 
and  turquoise,  supposed  to  have  formed  a  necklet ;  also  a 
number  of  very  small  beads  made  of  some  kind  of  ivory.  After 
the  entire  debris  had  been  removed  from  the  floor  of  the 
chamber,  there  were  found,  under  a  flagstone,  remains  of  an 
interment  occupying  a  shallow  space  between  the  floor  and  the 
natural  rock  (Rene  Galles,  Bull,  de  la  soc.  polym.  du  Morbihan, 
1862). 

(6)  Pottery. — The  pottery  found  with  pre-historic 
burials  consists  of  a  variety  of  vessels  collectively 
called  '  urns ' ;  but,  as  they  are  found  in  graves  con- 
taining either  burnt  or  unburnt  bodies,  they  could 
not  all  have  been  intended  for  cinerary  purposes, 
so  that  they  have  to  be  classified  according  to  their 
ascertained  special  functions.  Vessels  associated 
with  inhumed  bodies  are  supposed  to  have  con- 
tained food  and  drink — hence  they  are  called  '  food- 
vessels,'  and  '  drinking-cups '  or  'beakers.'  The 
cinerary  urns,  used  exclusively  for  the  purpose  of 
preserving  the  cremated  remains  of  the  corpse,  vary 
considerablyin  size,  form,  and  ornamentation,  being 
generally  10  to  18J  in.  in  height.  They  are  narrow- 
based  and  wide-mouthed,  with  a  broad  overhanging 
rim  to  which  the  ornamentation  is  commonly  con- 
fined ;  or  they  may  be  flower-pot-shaped,  and 
ornamented  by  one  or  two  transverse  ridges.  The 
food-vessel,  which  is  considerably  smaller,  more 
globular,  and  more  highly  ornamented  than  the 
cinerary  urn,  is  also  wide-mouthed  and  narrow- 
based.  As  a  rule  it  was  placed  with  an  unburnt 
burial  in  the  vicinity  of  the  head  of  the  corpse. 

Drinking-cups,  or  beakers,  are  tall,  highly  orna- 
mented vessels,  narrowing  from  the  mouth  to  near 
the  middle,  then  bulging  out  and  again  narrowing 
at  the  base.  A  few  specimens  have  been  found 
with  a  handle  like  a  jug.  Beakers  are  almost  in- 
variably associated  with  unburnt  burials — only  two 
out  of  24  having  been  found  by  Greenwell  in  the 
Wold  barrows,  with  cremated  burials.  Very  small 
cup-shaped  urns,  often  pierced  with  two  or  more 
holes  in  the  side,  and  generally  found  inside  a  large 
cinerary  vessel,  are  known  under  the  name  of 
'  incense  cups ' ;  but  there  is  no  evidence  to  sup- 
port this  suggested  use  of  them,  and  they  are  now 
regarded  as  cinerary  urns  for  infants. 

The  Hon.  John  Abercromby  holds  that  the  beaker  is  not  only 
the  oldest  Bronze  Age  ceramic  in  the  British  Isles,  but  also  an 
imported  type  from  Central  Europe  by  way  of  the  Rhine  Valley 
( JAI  xxxii.  373  ff .).  As.  an  interesting  corollary  to  Mr.  Aber- 
cromby's  views,  it  has  been  observed  that,  in  almost  all  the 
instances  in  which  the  beaker  has  been  found  associated  with 
human  remains,  the  skull  was  brachycephalic. 

That  sepulchral  ceramics  of  the  beaker  type  have 
rarely,  if  at  all,  been  found  in  Ireland  may  be 
accounted  for  on  the  supposition  that  the  Con- 
tinental brachycephali  were  later  in  penetrating 


as  far  as  Ireland ;  or,  perhaps,  that  the  few  who 
did  find  their  way  to  that  country  did  so  by  a 
different  route  from  those  who  entered  Britain  by 
way  of  the  Bhine  Valley.  Anyhow,  the  rarity  of 
both  beakers  and  brachycephalic  skulls  in  the  pre- 
historic burials  of  Ireland  is  a  suggestive  fact  to 
the  student  of  Irish  ethnology. 

(7)  Cemeteries. — As  population  increased  and  the 
influence  of  religion  became  more  powerful  as  a 
governing  factor  in  social  organizations,  the  isolated 
and  sporadic  graves  of  the  earlier  people  gave  place 
to  their  aggregation  in  the  form  of  cemeteries  in 
certain  selected  localities,  which  were  thus,  as  it 
were,  consecrated  as  common  burying-grounds  for 
the  disposal  of  the  dead.  The  remains  of  such  ceme- 
teries may  be  found  dispersed  throughout  the  whole 
of  Europe.  There  is  documentary  evidence  that  in 
pagan  times  the  Irish  had  regal  cemeteries  in 
various  parts  of  the  Island,  appropriated  to  the 
interment  of  chiefs  of  the  different  races  who  then 
ruled  the  country,  either  as  sole  monarchs  or  as 
provincial  kings. 

This  authority  consists  of  a  tract  called  Senchus- 
na-Melec  ('  History  of  the  Cemeteries '),  being  a 
fragment  of  one  of  the  oldest  Irish  MSS,  and  in  it 
reference  is  made  to  the  cemetery  of  Taillten,  which 
Mr.  Eugene  Conwell  of  Trim  has  identified  as  a 
group  of  chambered  cairns  on  the  Loughcrew  Hills, 
near  the  town  of  Oldcastle,  Co.  Meath.  Mr.  Con- 
well  also  quotes  the  following  stanza,  among  others, 
from  a  poem  in  the  same  old  MS,  viz.  Leabhar  na 
h  Uidhre : 

'  The  three  cemeteries  of  Idolaters  are 
The  cemetery  of  Taillten,  the  select, 
The  ever-clean  cemetery  of  Cruachan, 
And  the  cemetery  of  Brugh.' 

On  the  ridge  of  this  range  of  hills,  which  extends 
for  a  distance  of  about  two  miles,  are  situated  from 
25  to  30  chambered  cairns,  some  measuring  as  much 
as  180  ft.  in  diameter,  while  others  are  much 
smaller  and  nearly  obliterated.  They  were  ex- 
amined in  1867-8  by  E.  A.  Conwell,  and  an  account 
of  his  discoveries  was  published  in  1873  under  the 
title  of  Discovery  of  the  Tomb  of  Ollamh  Fodhla. 

An  analogous  group  of  dilapidated  chambered 
cairns,  with  settings  of  stone  circles,  may  be  seen 
at  Clava  near  Inverness,  and  other  localities  in 
Scotland.  Stonehenge  is  in  the  centre  of  a  vast 
burying-ground  consisting  of  barrows  in  groups 
over  the  downs. 

Urn  cemeteries,  without  any  external  markings 
to  indicate  the  site  of  the  burials,  are  frequently 
met  with  in  the  British  Isles,  being  exposed  by 
agricultural  operations,  and  especially  by  the  re- 
moval of  clay  beds  for  the  making  of  bricks.  As 
the  underlying  clay  slides  from  under  the  covering 
of  soil  to  a  lower  level,  urns  are  frequently  seen 
sticking  in  the  broken  margin  of  the  surface  soil. 
A  small  urn  cemetery  was  recently  discovered  at 
the  digging  of  the  foundation  of  a  villa  in  the  town 
of  Largs.  The  site  was  a  low  gravelly  mound,  and 
the  cemetery  disclosed  an  unique  feature  in  the 
finding  of  a  stone-lined  cist  covered  over  with  a 
large  flagstone  and  containing  seven  flower-pot- 
shaped  urns,  all  having  more  or  less  calcined  bones 
in  them  (Archceologia,  lxii.  239-250). 

In  1886,  in  the  course  of  removing  the  surface- 
earth  above  a  gravel-  and  sand-pit  at  Aylesford  in 
Kent,  the  following  relics  were  discovered :  a 
wooden  pail  or  situla,  with  a  bronze  band  orna- 
mented with  late  Celtic  designs;  a  bronze  jug 
{oenockoH) ;  a  long-handled  pan  and  two  fibulce,  also 
of  bronze,  together  with  calcined  bones  and  frag- 
ments of  pottery.  '  These  objects  were  discovered 
in  what  had  been  a  round  burial-pit,  about  3J  ft. 
deep,  the  sides  and  bottom  of  which  had  been 
coated  with  a  kind  of  chalky  compound.  The 
bronze  situla  contained  burnt  bones  and  the  fibulce, 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Europe,  pre-historic)  471 


the  bronze  vase  and  pan  lying  outside  it,  while 
around  were  the  remains  of  several  earthenware 
urns,  some  of  which  had  been  used  as  cineraries. ' 
The  discovery,  fortunately,  came  under  the  notice 
of  Dr.  A.  J.  Evans,  who  lost  no  time  in  making  a 
full  inquiry  into  the  circumstances.  The  result 
of  his  researches  was  a  paper,  '  On  a  Late 
Celtic  Urn-Field  at  Aylesford,'  which  appeared 
in  1890  (ib.  lii. ).  The  conclusion  to  which  Dr. 
Evans  comes,  after  a  wide  comparison  of  Con- 
tinental ceramics,  is  that  the  Aylesford  urns  are 
'  the  derivatives  of  North  Italian,  and  in  a  marked 
degree  old  Venetian  prototypes.' 

Perhaps  the  most  instructive  cemetery  in  Europe 
is  that  of  Hallstatt,  of  which  the  present  writer  has 
elsewhere  given  the  following  brief  account : 

'  The  ancient  necropolis,  known  as  Hallstatt,  lies  in  a  narrow 
glen  in  the  Noric  Alps,  about  an  hour's  walk  from  the  town  of 
Hallstatt,  situated  on  the  lake  of  the  same  name.  Discovered  in 
1846,  and  systematically  explored  for  several  years  under  the 
superintendence  of  Bergmeister  Q.  Ramsauer,  the  results  were 
published  by  Baron  von  Sacken  in  1868,  in  a  quarto  volume 
with  twenty-six  plates  of  illustrations.  One  of  the  peculiarities 
of  this  cemetery  was  that  it  contained  burials  by  Inhumation 
and  incineration  indiscriminately  dispersed  over  the  entire 
sepulchral  area,  both,  however,  belonging  to  the  same  period, 
as  was  clearly  proved  from  the  perfect  similarity  of  their  re- 
spective grave-goods.  The  graves  were  thickly  placed  over  an 
irregular  area,  some  200  yards  in  length  and  about  that  in 
breadth,  but  there  were  no  indications  above  ground  to  mark 
their  position.  They  were  not  arranged  in  any  order,  and  their 
depth  varied  within  the  limits  of  H  to  6  ft. — a  disproportion 
partly  accounted  for  by  the  sloping  nature  of  the  surface,  which 
caused  a  considerable  rain-wash  of  the  soil  to  the  lower  levels. 

Out  of  993  tombs  described  in  v.  Sacken's  work,  625  contained 
simple  interments ;  455  had  incinerated  human  remains ;  and 
in  13  the  bodies  had  only  been  partially  burnt  before  being 
interred.  The  inhumed  bodies  lay,  generally,  from  east  to 
west,  having  the  face  towards  sunrise  with  the  head  occasion- 
ally resting  on  a  stone.  At  other  times  the  body  lay  on  a  pre- 
pared bed,  or  coarse  casing,  of  hardened  clay.  In  two  instances 
traces  of  a  wooden  coffin  were  observed.  Sometimes  two  or 
more  skeletons  were  found  in  the  same  grave,  while,  at  other 
times,  some  portion  of  the  skeleton  was  wanting.  The 
skeletons  were  not  so  scientifically  examined  as  could  be  de- 
sired, but,  according  to  Dr.  Hoernes,  they  belonged  to  a  well- 
developed  dolichocephalic  race,  of  medium  height  (5  ft.  6  to 
8  in.),  with  a  prominent  occiput,  long  and  slightly  prognathic 
face,  and  a  straight  or  gently  receding  forehead.  The  ashes 
and  charred  bones  were  carefully  collected  and  deposited  in  the 
natural  soil,  sometimes  laid  over  a  fiat  stone,  and  sometimes  in 
a  roughly  burnt  trough  of  clay.  Only  twice  were  burnt  bones 
found  in  a  bronze  vase,  and  once  in  a  clay  urn.  When  the 
cremated  remains  had  been  deposited  the  grave-goods  were 
placed  near  them,  after  which  the  coarser  pieces  of  charcoal 
were  heaped  over  the  whole. 

An  analysis  of  the  contents  of  the  graves  gave  the  following 
reBults  : — The  638  tombs,  after  inhumation,  contained :  bronze 
— 18  objects  of  armour,  1543  articles  of  toilet,  67  utensils,  and 
31  vases  ;  iron — 165  objects  of  armour,  and  42  utensils  ;  6  articles 
of  gold,  171  of  amber,  and  41  of  glass  ;  342  clay  vessels  ;  and  61 
diverse  objects  (spindle-whorls,  sharpening  stones,  etc.).  Simi- 
larly classified,  the  relics  in  the  456  tombs  after  incineration 
were  as  follows  :  bronze — 91  objects  of  armour,  1735  of  toilet,  66 
utensils,  and  179  vases ;  iron — 348  objects  of  armour,  and  43 
utensils ;  59  articles  of  gold,  106  of  amber,  and  36  of  glass ;  902 
clay  vessels  ;  and  102  diverse  objects. 

From  these  statistics  it  would  appear  that  the  burials  after 
cremation  were  richer  in  articles  of  luxury — such  as  bronze 
vases  and  fibula,  beads  of  glass,  gold  cloth  stuffs,  etc.,  with  the 
exception  of  objects  of  amber,  which  were  more  abundant 
with  inhumed  bodies'  (Rambles  and  Studies  in  Bosnia*, 
p.  399 ft.). 

It  may  be  noted  as  a  point  of  some  significance, 
that  neither  silver  nor  lead  has  been  found  in 
Hallstatt.  Their  absence,  together  with  that  of 
money,  has  been  used  to  support  the  opinion  that 
the  cemetery  was  discontinued  before  these  metals 
came  into  general  use  about  the  beginning  of  the 
4th  cent.  B.C. 

Baron  von  Sacken  assigned  the  Hallstatt  cemetery  to  the 
second  half  of  the  millennium  immediately  preceding  the 
Christian  era,  and  thought  that  it  might  be  in  continuous  use 
till  the  advent  of  the  Romans  into  that  part  of  Europe.  But, 
according  to  other  writers,  this  range  ought  to  be  extended 
further  back  by  several  centuries,  even  to  1000  B.o.  Owing  to 
commercial  currents  from  Eastern  lands,  especially  by  way  of 
the  Adriatic,  and  also,  no  doubt,  to  changes  initiated  by  native 
skill,  we  might  expect  a  considerable  variation  in  the  technique 
of  the  Hallstatt  relics,  even  on  v.  Sacken's  hypothesis  of  the 
more  limited  duration  of  the  cemetery.  The  collection  as  a 
whole  is  thus  a  mere  jumbling  together  of  an  assortment  of 
objects,  influenced  not  only  by  a  rapidly  progressing  civiliza- 


tion, but  also  by  a  continuous  importation  of  new  materials ; 
bence  the  difficulty  of  classifying  them  into  a  more  precise 
division  than  earlier  and  later. 

In  the  cemetery  of  S.  Lucia,  near  Tolmino,  above 
the  head  of  the  Adriatic,  in  which  incineration  was 
almost  exclusively  the  mode  of  sepulture — there 
being  only  three  interments  by  inhumation  out  of 
3000  tombs  examined  by  Dr.  Marchesetti — the  war- 
like element  was  represented  by  only  one  sword, 
two  spears,  and  seven  lances  (all  of  iron).  The 
sword  is  distinctly  the  La  Tene  type — thus  suggest- 
ing that  the  peaceful  ways  of  the  people  had  been 
disturbed  only  in  later  times,  probably  during  one 
of  the  marauding  excursions  of  the  Gauls  into 
Italy.  On  the  other  hand,  the  fibulm  numbered 
1629  of  bronze  and  108  of  iron  ;  of  which  248  were 
of  the  'Certosa'  type — i.e.  not  much  earlier  than 
400  B.C.— and  3  of  the  La  Tene  type.  Of  metallic 
vases  there  were  eighty  of  bronze  and  one  of  iron, 
among  the  former  being  six  ciste  a  cordoni.  A  few 
of  these  bronze  vessels  were  decorated  with  dots, 
circles,  and  perpendicular  flutings,  but  rarely  with 
animai  figures,  and  all  in  the  same  style  of  art  as 
the  analogous  objects  from  Hallstatt. 

(8)  The proto-historic  people  of  Western  Europe. — 
As  a  general  result  of  the  preceding  remarks  on 
the  sepulchral  phenomena  of  Western  Europe,  the 
following  propositions  may  be  accepted  as  a  fair 
summary  of  the  ethnic  elements,  so  far  as  these 
have  been  determined  by  modern  research,  which 
have  helped  to  mould  the  physical  characters  of 
the  highly  mixed  population  now  inhabiting  the 
British  Isles,  but,  of  course,  altogether  apart  from 
the  influence  of  the  environment. 

(a)  Anthropological  researches  have  shown  that 
during  the  Neolithic  Age  a  long-headed  race,  of 
short  stature  but  strong  physique  (average  height 
5  ft.  5  in.),  who  buried  their  dead  in  rudely  con- 
structed stone  chambers,  had  spread  over  the  whole 
of  Western  Europe,  from  the  Mediterranean  to  the 
south  of  Scandinavia.  Tacitus  informs  us  that  he 
identified  the  Silures,  a  people  then  occupying 
South  Wales,  as  Iberians,  on  account  of  their 
swarthy  complexion  and  curled  hair  (Agricola,  xi.). 
The  inference  that  these  Silures  were  the  direct 
descendants  of  the  primitive  long-headed  people 
was  not  unreasonable,  more  especially  as  by  that 
time  the  eastern  parts  of  Britain  had  been  taken 
possession  of  by  successive  waves  of  Gaulish  and 
Belgic  immigrants  from  the  Continent — thus  caus- 
ing the  earlier  inhabitants  to  recede  more  and 
more  westwards.  And,  if  this  is  so,  it  follows  that 
the  long-headed  men  of  the  chambered  cairns  of 
Britain,  Ireland,  and  France,  as  well  as  many  other 
parts  of  the  Continent,  had  a  swarthy  complexion, 
with  dark  hair  and  eyes,  like  so  many  people  still 
inhabiting  the  more  secluded  parts  of  these  locali- 
ties. 

(6)  The  incoming  brachycephali  were  taller  than 
the  dolichocephali  already  in  possession  of  the 
country — a  statement  which  is  proved  by  actual 
measurements  of  skeletons  (average  height  5  ft.  8 
in.).  Although  they  have  been  described  by  many 
modern  writers  as  '  light  in  hair  and  complexion ' 
(Greenwell,  op.  cit.  p.  636),  there  does  not  appear 
to  be  any  archaeological  evidence  to  support  this 
assertion.  The  mistake  seems  to  have  arisen  from 
inadvertently  applying  to  the  Bronze  Age  brachy- 
cephali qualities  which  were  undoubtedly  applic- 
able at  a  later  period  to  the  Celts  of  history.  The 
former  buried  their  dead  in  short  cists  and  round 
barrows,  and  carried  with  them  a  knowledge  of 
bronze.  While  these  two  early  races  (the  dolicho- 
cephali and  brachycephali)  were  living  together, 
apparently  in  harmony,  the  custom  of  disposing  of 
the  dead  by  cremation  spread  over  the  land — a 
custom  which  was  introduced  from  the  Continent, 
and  had  its  origin  probably  in  the  strong  religious 


472 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Greek) 


elements  of  the  time,  as  it  was  practised  by  both 
races. 

(c)  At  a  considerably  later  period,  but  not  many 
centuries  prior  to  the  occupation  of  Britain  by  the 
Komans,  there  was  another  Continental  wave  of 
immigrants,  generally  regarded  as  an  oft'shoot  of 
the  Galli  of  classical  authors,  and  probably  the 
Belgas  of  Caesar,  who  introduced  the  industrial 
elements  of  the  civilization  known  in  this  country 
as  'Late  Celtic.1  These  newcomers  differed  radi- 
cally from  the  former  so-called  Celtic  invaders 
in  having  dolichocephalic  heads  —  a  statement 
which  is  supported  by  archaeological  evidence ;  for 
example,  a  skull  found  in  a  characteristic  Late 
Celtic  tumulus  at  Arras,  Yorkshire,  was  described 
by  Dr.  Thurnam  as  having  a  cephalic  index  of  73"7. 
Tney  were  a  branch  of  the  Celts  of  history,  whose 
very  name  at  one  time  was  a  terror  in  Europe  ;  and 
by  classical  writers  they  are  described  as  very  tall 
and  fierce-looking,  with  fair  hair,  blond  com- 
plexion, and  blue  eyes. 

(d)  The  next  and  last  of  the  great  racial  ele- 
ments which  entered  into  the  ethnic  composition 
of  the  British  people  of  to-day  were  the  successive 
Teutonic  invasions  from  Germany,  Denmark,  and 
Scandinavia,  all  belonging  to  a  tall  blond  dolicho- 
cephalic people  who  existed  in  Central  Europe 
from  time  immemorial — possibly  the  descendants 
of  the  Neanderthaloid  races  of  Palaeolithic  times. 

There  is  no  reference  made  here  to  the  Roman 
occupation  as  a  factor  in  British  ethnology,  because 
the  Romans  were  a  mere  ruling  caste,  who,  al- 
though they  introduced  new  arts,  industries,  and 
customs  into  the  country,  kept  themselves  aloof 
from  the  natives,  and  did  not,  as  a  rule,  inter- 
marry with  them.  Hence,  when  they  finally 
abandoned  Britain  they  left  its  inhabitants  racially 
unaffected,  much  as  would  be  the  case  with  India  if 
the  British  were  now  to  retire  from  it.  To-day  we 
hunt  for  remains  of  military  roads,  camps,  ac- 
coutrements of  war,  and  other  relics  of  their 
civilization,  but  of  their  skeletons  we  know  very 
little,  and  of  their  British  offspring  nothing  at  all. 

Literature. — Anderson,  Scotland  in  Pagan  Times,  2  vols. 
1886 ;  Bateman,  Ten  Years'  Diggings,  1861 ;  Bertrand,  Archi- 
ologie  celtique  et  gauloise,  1889,  Les  Celtes  dans  Us  valines 
du  P6  et  du  Danube,  1894 ;  Cartailhac,  La  France  prthis- 
torique,  1889,  Les  Ages  prdhistoriques  de  I'Espagne  et  du 
Portugal,  1886;  Dawkins,  Cave-Hunting,  1874,  Early  Man  in 
Britain,  1880;  Dechelette,  Man.  d'arcMol.  prihist.,  1908; 
Dupont,  L'Homme  pendant  les  Ages  de  la  pierre\  1872 ; 
Fergusson,  Rude  Stone  Monuments  in  all  Countries,  1872 ;  de 
Mortillet,  Le  Prehistorique,  1888;  Mortimer,  Forty  Years' 
Researches  in  British  and  Saxon  Burial  Mounds,  1907 ;  Munro, 
Prehistoric  Scotland,  1899,  Rambles  and  Studies  in  Bosnia2, 
1900 ;  Reliquiae  Aquitanieoe  (Report  of  the  Excavations 
of  the  Dordo^ne  Caves  by  Lartet  and  Christy),  1865 ;  Tylor, 
Primitive  Culture*,  1903,  Anthropology,  1881 ;  Hoare,  Ancient 
Hist,  of  Wiltshire,  1810;  Wilson,  Prehistoric  Annals  o/ Scot- 
land?, 2  vols.  1863;  Greenwell-Kolleston,  British  Barrows, 
1877 ;  Thurnam-Davis,  Crania  Britannica,  1866 ;  Congres 
internat.  d'anthropol.  et  d'archeol.  pre'historique,  13  vols. 
1866-1906 ;  Proceedings  and  Transactions  of  Archseological 
Societies  of  Western  Europe  ;  von  Sacken,  Das  Grdber/elavon 
Hallstatt,  1886 ;  Jewitt,  Grave-mounds  and  their  Contents,  1870. 

R.  MtTNRO. 
DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 
(Greek). — Burial  was  the  method  of  disposing  of 
the  dead  followed  by  all  the  Mediterranean  peoples 
during  the  Neolithic  epoch,  and  the  same  custom 
obtained  in  Greece,  and  was  continued  without  in- 
terruption at  least  until  the  Homeric  period.  That 
the  Greeks  of  the  pre-Mycenaean  and  Mycenaean 
civilization  buried  their  dead  is  evident  from  the 
tombs  discovered  in  Crete,  in  the  Cyclades,  at 
Mycenae,  Orchomehus,  and  Vaphio.  It  has  also 
been  proved  that  Schliemann  was  mistaken  in 
believing  that  he  found  in  the  Mycenaean  tombs 
indications  of  a  partial  cremation  of  the  dead. 
In  the  island  of  Crete,  Evans  and  Halbherr,  who 
discovered  many  tombs  of  the  Mycenaean  epoch 
and  others  of  different  periods,  found  burial  to  be 


the  invariable  custom  without  any  sign  of  crema- 
tion, either  partial  or  total. 

Apparently,  then,  the  first  notice  of  cremation 
occurs  in  Homer ;  it  is  described  with  grim  vivid- 
ness, especially  in  the  account  of  the  obsequies  of 
Patroclus  (II.  xxiii.  110 ft'.).  Homer  also  offers  an 
explanation  of  this  new  funerary  custom,  which 
appears  to  be  contrary  to  the  beliefs  of  the  Greek 
people.  He  makes  Nestor  say  that  it  is  necessary 
to  burn  the  bodies  of  those  who  died  in  battle, 
in  order  that  the  bones  might  be  carried  back  to 
their  native  land  to  the  sons  of  the  dead  (//.  vii. 
331  f.).  But  this  reason  is  inadequate  to  account 
for  so  profound  a  change  of  custom.  The  change 
from  burial  to  cremation  must  already  have  taken 

Elace  in  the  Homeric  age,  just  as  it  had  previously 
een  made  in  Central  and,  in  part,  in  Southern 
Europe.  It  was  then  introduced  into  Greece  as  it 
had  been  into  Italy,  and  very  probably  by  the 
same  races  who  were  afterwards  known  under 
the  name  of  Aryan,  and  who  originated  many 
other  changes  in  the  customs  of  the  peoples  sub- 
dued by  them. 

While  in  some  regions  of  Europe  there  was  a 
period  during  which  cremation  prevailed  (and 
among  these  regions  must  be  included  Northern 
and  also,  in  part,  Southern  Italy),  in  Greece  the 
ancient  and  the  new  practices  flourished  for  a  long 
time  side  by  side,  just  as  was  the  case  in  Rome  ; 
but  in  Rome,  from  the  discoveries  in  the  Forum  and 
from  those  made  in  other  parts  of  the  city  and  in 
Latium,  we  can  plainly  recognize  the  substitution 
of  cremation  for  burial.  This  does  not  appear  so 
clearly  in  Greece ;  but  it  cannot  have  happened 
otherwise.  At  the  time  of  the  Homeric  rhapsodies, 
cremation  must  have  been  in  use  quite  as  much  as 
burial.  In  succeeding  epochs  both  methods  were 
employed,  as  may  be  gathered  from  Greek  authors, 
who  attest  the  existence  now  of  the  one  custom 
and  now  of  the  other. 

We  have  at  the  present  day  full  information 
regarding  the  forms  of  the  tombs  used  by  the 
Greeks  previous  to  the  classic  epoch,  and  especially 
in  those  characteristic  periods  which  are  to  be 
referred  to  pre-Mycenaean  and  Mycenaean  civiliza- 
tion both  on  the  continent  and  in  the  various 
islands.  The  funerary  architecture  of  these 
periods  may  be  classified  under  four  chief  forms : 
(1)  dome- tombs,  (2)  chamber- tombs,  (3)  shaft-tombs, 
and  (4)  pit-tombs. 

The  finest  example  of  a  dome-tomb  is  that  of 
the  tomb  called  the  Treasury  of  Atreus  at  Mycenae, 
discovered  by  Schliemann.  Then  come  those  of 
Orchomenus,  of  Vaphio,  of  Heraion,  of  Eleusis, 
and  of  other  places,  which  are  magnificently  and 
splendidly  decorated,  not  indeed  like  that  at 
Mycenae,  although  they  have  the  same  archi- 
tectural form. 

The  chamber-tombs  are  distinguished  from  the 
dome-tombs  by  the  rectangular  form  of  their  plan, 
the  dome-tombs  being  circular ;  by  their  more  or 
less  flat  roof;  and  also  by  the  diminished  height 
of  the  mortuary  chamber.  But,  like  the  others, 
they  have  a  corridor  (8p6fios)  for  entrance,  with  a 
door  of  ingress,  and  they  may  also  have  a  varying 
number  of  lateral  chambers.  These  tombs  were 
excavated  in  the  rock,  and  are  found  throughout 
the  whole  of  Greece  and  in  the  islands,  especially 
in  Crete,  where  they  were  discovered  by  Evans 
and  Halbherr.  Sarcophagi  are  found  in  them — 
sometimes  one,  two,  or  even  four — made  of  terra- 
cotta and  painted  on  the  outside  ;  or  else  there  is  a 
trench  in  them  in  which  the  corpse  has  been  placed  ; 
or  sometimes  the  corpse  was  laid  upon  the  floor  of 
the  sepulchral  chamber  (Evans,  Prehistoric  l^ombi 
of  Knossos,  p.  5 ;  Orsi,  Urne  funebri  cretesi, 
p.  2ff). 

The  shaft-tombs  were  dug  in  the  ground  and 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Greek) 


473 


the   sepulchral    chamber,    or   in    a 
a    larnax    of    clay.       It    was 


covered  with  either  rough  or  squared  slabs  of 
stone.  In  these  graves  the  body  was  usually 
placed  on  its  back  ;  sometimes  it  was  curled  up. 

The  pit-tombs  consist  of  a  kind  of  well  which 
was  almost  always  excavated  in  the  rock,  with 
steps  to  descend  into  it ;  at  the  bottom  an  arched 
aperture  is  found  which  gives  access  to  the  sepul- 
chral cell.  The  cell  is  generally  supported  by  a 
double  wall  of  rude  blocks,  and  is  sufficiently  long 
to  contain  a  skeleton  stretched  out  at  full  length. 
But  Evans  remarks  that  this  type  of  tomb,  although 
it  has  different  characteristics,  resembles  in  its  cell 
the  shaft-tombs. 

In  the  island  of  Crete  no  dome-tombs  have  been 
discovered  like  those  of  Mycense  or  of  Orchomenus  ; 
but  the  royal  tomb  of  Isopates  described  by  Evans 
and  re-constructed  by  Fyie  (Evans,  op.  cit.)  fills  up 
the  lacuna. 

It  appears  to  have  been  the  primitive  custom  of 
the  Greeks  to  bury  their  dead  in  the  village  where 
they  dwelt,  and  sometimes  in  the  houses  them- 
selves. It  is  certain  that  at  Mycense  tombs  have 
been  found  in  the  houses,  here  and  there  in  groups 
of  five,  or  even  of  twenty,  among  the  remains  of 
habitations.  At  Athens,  also,  houses  with  tombs 
have  been  discovered.  Plato  makes  mention  of 
this  custom,  and  calls  it  barbarous  (Min.  315).  It 
seems  to  have  been  abolished  by  the  laws  of  Solon. 
The  agora  also  appears  to  have  been  used  for 
burying  :  Mycense  supplies  an  example  of  this. 
Further,  it  is  well  known  that  in  the  classic  epoch 
many  Greek  cities  had,  or  believed  that  they  had, 
in  the  agora  the  burial-place  of  their  more  re-    .ed  along  in  the  funeral  train,  and  whose'  members 


nowned  heroes. 

It  appears,  further,  that  the  Greeks  in  primitive 


pavement    of 
sarcophagus    in 

usually  placed  stretched  out  at  length,  or  some- 
times curled  up,  either  in  the  grave  or  in  the 
sarcophagus.  There  was  no  fixed  direction  or 
orientation  of  the  position  of  the  dead.  In  tombs 
of  every  type,  objects  belonging  to  the  deceased 
are  found,  according  to  sex  and  condition :  weapons, 
swords,  knives,  arrows,  razors,  ornaments  of  gold 
and  of  bronze,  rings,  seals,  lamps,  and  so  on.  Tombs 
like  those  of  Mycense  and  Vaphio  have  furnished 
objects  of  great  value  both  as  to  their  material 
— principally  gold — and  as  to  their  artistic  make. 
Objects  which  were  most  dear  to  the  deceased,  and 
which  he  had  possessed  when  living,  were  placed 
with  him  in  the  tomb.  This  usage  continued 
without  interruption  into  the  historic  epoch,  to- 
gether with  other  usages  which  were  gradually 
abolished  by  various  successive  laws,  because  they 
were  held  to  be  barbarous.  We  have  proof  of  this 
in  the  Homeric  period,  which  may  be  regarded  as 
an  intermediate  one  between  the  pre-historic  and 
the  historic  periods,  primitive  funeral  customs 
being  still  found  which  were  no  longer  practised 
in  the  period  which  followed,  as  well  as  others 
which  were  retained. 

In  order  to  give  an  idea  of  this,  it  will  be 
sufficient  to  relate  in  full  what  was  done  at  the 
funeral  of  Patroclus,  so  admirably  described  by 
Homer  (II.  xviii.,  xxiii. ).  We  shall  follow  the 
poet's  order : — 

—  purpose  ciiso  of  tne  •anusfSfTSSZi  cow,  whig 


ire  finally  laid  upon  those  of  the  dead,  its  kidneys 
Deing  deposited  in  his  hands  as  food  for  Yama's 


times  ottered  human  sacrifices  at  funerals.  This  [dogs.  The  streams  which  have  to  be  crossed  are 
seems  certain  not  only  from  the  Homeric  account  probably  indicated  by  the  piece  of  reed  which  is 
of  the  obsequies  of  Patroclus,  but  also  from  some  I  ntroduced  into  the  wall  of  the  tomb,  and  which  is 
indications  in  the  tombs  of  Mycense.  In  the  f  meant  to  serve  as  a  boat  (cf.  Cerberus,  Bridge). 
iromos  of  the  rock- tombs,  human  bones  have  often  \  The  realm  of  the  dead  is  variously  located  in  the 
been  found,  and  in  front  of  one  sepulchre  there  \  west  or  the  south— occasionally  in  the  east,  jno 
were  discovered  six  human  skeletons  placed  cross-  doubt  in  conformity  with  the  conception  of  Rigv. 


wise  and  mingled  with  the  bones  of  animals  and 
broken  pieces  of  common  utensils.  From  this  it 
has  been  suspected  that  the  bodies  were  those  of 
victims  sacrificed  to  the  dead  (Perrot-Chipiez, 
Histoire  de  Fart,  vi.  564).  Further,  Plato  says  (ib.) 
that  human  sacrifices  were  ottered  in  Lykaia 
(AvKaia),  and  also  by  the  descendants  of  Athamas, 
although  they  were  Greeks  and  not  barbarians. 

From  the  most  remote  antiquity,  as  we  gather 
from  the  pre-historic  tombs,  the  Greeks  had  a 
religious  cult  for  their  dead.  They  considered  the 
right  of  sepulture  as  sacred,  and  consequently  as  a 
law.  This  sentiment  was  handed  down  to  the 
historic  Greeks,  the  true  "EXXt^cs.  It  was  also  a 
duty  and  a  kind  of  Pan-Hellenic  law  (UaveXhriycov 
v6/ios,  Eurip.  Suppl.  524)  to  give  sepulture  to 
enemies  who  died  in  battle.  The  law  of  Solon, 
which  exempted  a  son  from  the  obligation  to 
support  a  father  who  had  rendered  himself  un- 
worthy, imposed  upon  him  the  duty  of  burying 
him  with  all  due  honours  (^Esch.  in  Timarch.  13 ; 
the  very  words  SUaia,  vSfii/w.,  affirm  the  right  of 
the  dead  to  sepulture).  In  the  classic  epoch, 
religious  belief  was  permeated  with  the  notion 
that  the  spirit  of  the  dead  could  not  enter  into  the 
subterranean  realm  if  the  body  had  not  received 
burial — the  soul  (fvxv)  would  wander  about  without 
a  resting-place,  and  would  not  be  able  to  pass  over 
the  fatal  river  in  order  to  enter  Hades. 

We  do  not  know  how  the  primitive  Greeks  con- 
ducted themselves  between  the  death  and  the 
burial  of  the  deceased ;  but  from  what  we  know  of 
the  historical  epoch  we  may  infer  without  any 
doubt  what  were  their  customs  in  primitive  times. 

In  the  pre-historic  tombs  of  Knossos  the  corpse 
was  buried  in   a  grave,  or  else  was  laid  on  the 


f.  15.  7,  which  speaks  of  the  fathers  as  aruninqm 
upasthe,  '  in  the  bosom  of  the  dawn.'  The  dekd 
are  sought  for  in  earth  and  air  and  heaven,  in  sun 
and  moon  and  stars — in  the  last-named  very  rare)y. 
En  fact,  we  encounter  a  number  of  frequently  con- 
tradictory views,  which  originated  at  different 
times  and  among  different  races,  and  which,  after 
undergoing  artificial  amalgamation,  now  emerge  in 
the  Vedic  ritual  and  its  hymns  (Hillebrandt,  Ved. 
Myth.,  Breslau,  1891-1902,  iii.  414  ff.). 

The  usual  method   of  disposing  of  the  dead  is 
cremation.     But  the  well-known  distinction  drawn 
in  Rigv.  x.  15.  14  between  agnidagdhas  and  anag-    | 
hidagdhas  (cremated  and  un-cremated  manes)  shows     J 
hat  other  forms  were  known  and  practised.     It  is  s-fl 
rot  at  all  impossible  that  Rigv.  x.  18.  10  ff.  origin-  or 
'■l]y  r"f"rr?rf  tn  \^i  aia   S&  Tauiinl  'WSnteiimvtT.      • 

In  the  classic  period  the  dead  body  was  washed, 
anointed  with  unguents  and  oil,  and  wrapped  in  a 
white  garment.      It  appears,   however,   that  the 

farment  was  not  always  white  ;  it  might  be  black, 
'he  eyes  were  closed,  and  the  jaw  was  bound  to 
the  head  in  order  that  the  mouth  might  remain 
shut  when  rigidity  came  on.  The  care  of  the  dead 
was  the  business  of  the  people  of  the  house, 
especially  the  relatives,  and  among  these  the 
women.  Further,  a  garland  was  placed  on  the 
head  of  the  deceased.  Afterwards  the  corpse  was 
laid  on  an  ordinary  bed  (kMvtj),  and  was  exposed  to 
view.  This  exposing  (irp6deaLs)  took  place  in  the 
house,  the  feet  of  the  dead  being  turned  towards 
the  door ;  a  law  of  Solon  prohibited  an  exposing 
before  the  door,  as  seems  to  have  been  done  at 
first.  This  exposing  took  place  the  day  after 
death.  An  earlier  time  was  prohibited  in  order, 
naturally,   that    there  might  be  assurance    that 


474 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Greek) 


actual  death  had  taken  place ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  too  prolonged  exposing  was  not  allowed. 
According  to  Greek  beliefs,  the  dead  must  be 
buried  relatively  soon  in  order  that  the  soul  might 
be  able  to  enter  the  realm  of  the  dead  and  might 
not  wander  about.  Patroclus,  whose  body,  on 
account  of  the  solemn  funeral  rites,  was  exposed 
for  twelve  days  after  his  death,  says  to  Achilles, 
to  whom  he  appears  in  a  dream,  ddirre  /ie  6m 
rdxiOT-a,  7niXas  'Atdao  Treoijcrw  (II.  xxiii.  71). 

At  what  seems  to  be  a  late  period,  a  piece  of 
money  was  placed  in  the  mouth  of  the  deceased  as 
a  vavhov  to  pay  the  ferryman  who  transported  him 
to  the  further  side  of  the  river  into  the  realm  of 
the  dead.  A  honey  cake  (iieXiTovrra)  was  buried 
with  him,  as  an  appropriate  offering  to  the 
guardian  of  the  doors  of  the  infernal  regions 
(Aristoph.  Lys.  599).  The  scholiast  on  Aristo- 
phanes adds  that  the  cake  serves  for  Cerberus 
(Q.v.),  the  piece  of  money  for  the  ferryman,  and 
the  dead  man's  garland  is  for  the  struggle  which 
he  has  undergone  in  issuing  from  life. 

Upon  the  bier  was  placed  a  vessel  of  earth, 

usually  a  \^kv6os,   which  contained  an   unguent. 

On  this  vessel,  which  was  of  a  characteristic  form, 

were  depicted  appropriate  funeral  scenes ;  and,  in 

fact,  it  represented  the  deceased.    At  the  door  of 

ingress  was   placed   an  earthen  vessel  (Ho-rpaKov) 

containing  spring  water   (Aristoph.   Eccl.    1033), 

which  was  to  serve  for  purifying  those  who  had 

been  in^contact  with  the  dead,  and  in  general  all 

fHfie  Romans  wferfe  a  mere  ruling  caste7  who,  \ 

though  they  introduced  new  arts,  industries,  ai 

customs  into   the  country,  kept  themselves  alo 

from  the  natives,  and  did  not,  as  a  rule,  intt 

marry   with    them.      Hence,   when    they    final); 

abandoned  Britain  they  left  its  inhabitants  racial' 

unaffected,  much  as  would  be  the  case  with  Indiai 

the  British  were  now  to  retire  from  it.     To-day  w 

hunt  for  remains  of  military  roads,  camps,   ei 

coutrements  of    war,   and    other    relics  of    the 

civilization,  but  of  their  skeletons  we  know  vei 

little,  and  of  their  British  offspring  nothing  at  a. 

Literature. — Anderson,  Scotland  in  Pagan  Times,  2  vol 
1886 ;  Bateman,  Ten  Years'  Diggings,  1861 ;  Bert  rand,  Arch 
ologie  celtique  et  gauloise,  1889,  Les  Celtes  dans  Us  valU 
du  P6  et  du  Danube,  1894;  Cartailhac,  La  France  prth 
torique,  1889,  Les  Ages  prihistoriques  de  I'Espagne  et  o 
Portugal,  18S6  ;  Dawkins,  Cave-Hunting,  1874,  Early  Man  l 
Britain,  1880;  Dechelette,  Man.  d'archiol.  prthist.,  190: 
Dupont,  L'Homme  pendant  les  dges  de  la  pierrez,  187' 
Fergrusson,  Rude  Stone  Monuments  in  all  Countries,  1872  ;  c 
Mortillet,  Le  Prehistorique,  1888;  Mortimer,  Forty  Ytai 
Researches  in  British  and  Saxon  Burial  Mounds,  1907  ;  Munr 
Prehistorie  Scotland,  1899,  Rambles  and  Studies  in  Bosnia 
1900;  Religuice  Aquitanicm  (Report  o(  the  Excavatioi 
of  the  DordWne  Caves  by  Lartet  and  Christy),  1865;  Tylo 
Primitive  Culture*,  1903,  Anthropology,  1881;  Hoare,  And,' 
Hist,  of  Wiltshire,  1810;  Wilson,  Prehistoric  Annals  of  Sc 
land?,  2  vols.  1863 ;  Greenwell-Rolleston,  British  Barrm 
1877 ;  ThurnamDavis,  Crania  Britannica,  1866 ;  Cong', 
internat.   d'anthropol.   et   d'archdol.   prehistorique.    13    vc 

stone.  But  the  dead  were  not  always  laid  in  a 
tomb  of  stone  without  a  coffin  (<rop6s,  \&pva£).  When 
the  latter  was  used,  it  was  made  of  cypress  or 
other  wood. 

The  different  stages  of  the  funeral  were  usually 
accompanied  by  weeping  and  lamentation  on  the 
part  of  the  relatives  and  friends,  and  of  other  per- 
sons who  visited  the  dead  when  exposed  to  view 
and  attended  him  to  the  sepulchre.  These  manifes- 
tations of  grief  must  originally  have  been  excessive, 
and  not  different  from  those  we  have  met  with  in 
Homer.  They  were  prohibited  by  legislators  like 
Solon  and  Charondas,' who  desired  to  restrain  what 
appeared  to  many  Greek  writers  to  be  clamorous 
and  barbaric  forms  of  grief.  Plato  describes  as 
indecorous  the  weeping  for  the  dead,  and  would 
have  liked  to  prohibit  lamentations  (dp-qvetv)  outside 
the  house  (Legg.  xii.  960).  It  is  true  that  ^Eschy- 
lus    (C/weph.    20 f.)    and    Euripides    (Sec.   642  f.) 


h 


describe  displays  of  grief  such  as  striking  the  breast, 
tearing  and  lacerating  the  face  and  garments,  and 
pulling  out  the  hair ;  but  probably  these  two 
authors  wished  to  reproduce  primitive  customs 
which  were  no  longer  permitted  in  their  day.  In 
spite  of  legislative  prohibitions,  however,  there  was 
no  cessation  at  funerals  of  more  or  less  exaggerated 
manifestations  of  grief ;  the  bier  was  certainly 
accompanied  by  funeral-singers  (8prjvi#5ol).  Plato 
himself  speaks  of  them  (Legg.  vii.  800)  in  the 
masculine  only.  This  duty,  however,  was  carried 
out  also  by  women  called  KapLvat,  Bpr/vifSol,  fiovo-iical, 
probably,  as  is  supposed,  from  their  Carian  origin, 
whence  came  the  employment  of  the  term  for  those 
women  who  sang  over  the  dead,  just  as  a  kind  of 
flute  was  called  Phrygian  as  having  been  invented 
by  the  Phrygians,  e.g.  aiJXds  Qpr\vnTi.Kbs  (Poll.  iv.  75). 

While  in  pre-historic  times  the  places  of  sepulture 
were  either  the  houses  or  the  streets  of  the  city  or 
village,  or  even  the  agora,  in  the  classical  period 
the  Greeks  had  fixed  places  outside  the  city, 
cemeteries  in  the  common  and  broad  signification 
of  the  term ;  or  else  they  made  use  of  the  roads 
outside  of  the  city,  as  may  still  be  seen  in  Italy, 
e.g.  at  Pompeii.  Moreover,  distinguishing  signs  or 
inscriptions  were  placed  upon  the  sepulchres.  The 
sepulchres  themselves  had  different  names,  as  SiJKat, 
to0oi,  iivfip-ara.,  and  they  might  have  different 
forms,  among  which  was  that  of  the  tumulus 
(xu<ua,  barrow).  There  were  placed  upon  them 
stelae  (orijXai),  a  kind  of  posts,  or  actual  columns 
(kIovcs),  or  little  temples  (vat8ia,  iipipa),  or  else  hori- 
zontal slabs  of  stone  (rpdirefai),  with  inscriptions 
(ypaq^al). 

In  the  sepulchres  in  Greece,  from  the-  most 
>  ancient  and  primitive  onwards,  have  been  found 
objects  and  vessels  frequently  of  great  value,  such 
as  those  of  Mycense,  of  Vaphio,  and  of  Crete. 
These  were  deposited  in  the  tomb  with  the  dead, 
and  were  objects  which  had  belonged  to  him. 
Thus  there  have  been  found  objects  for  the  toilet, 
weapons,  little  figures  of  earth  or  of  bronze,  and, 
especially,  bronze  or  earthen  vessels.  The  sepul- 
chres themselves  contain  the  bones  of  domestic 
animals,  among  which  are  those  of  the  horse.  In 
the  ideas  and  beliefs  of  the  Greeks  there  was  the 
conviction  that  the  dead  person  must  have  for  his 
journey  to  the  subterranean  world  the  same  objects 
of  use  and  of  ornament  which  he  had  possessed 
when  living,  and  also  utensils  and  vessels  which 
were  proper  for  eating  and  drinking  from,  and  con- 
taining food  and  drink.  This  usage  did  not  cease 
in  classic  Greece,  as  has  been  proved  by  the  vessels 
and  other  objects  which  have  been  found  in  the 
sepulchres  of  this  epoch. 

The  burial  was  followed  by  the  funeral  meal 
(irepiSenrvov),  already  met  with  in  the  Homeric 
period,  though  not  by  the  games,  which  had  been 
abolished ;  and  also  by  the  purification  (koto- 
\oieo-8ai).  But  solicitude  for  the  deceased  did  not 
end  here  :  on  the  third  day  after  the  burial,  sacri- 
fices (called  rplra)  were  offered  upon  the  tomb, 
especially  on  the  stele  or  other  objeet  placed  on  it ; 
these  sacrifices  were  repeated  on  the  ninth  day 
(iitara) ;  and  in  the  meanwhile  the  mourning  began. 
This,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  lasted  thirty  days ; 
the  shortest  period  was  twelve  (Plut.  Lye.  27).  As 
to  external  signs,  mourning  was  shown  by  abstin- 
ence from  everything  which  might  cause  joy  and 
pleasure,  and  also  by  putting  on  a  black  garment, 
or  clothing  which  was  only  in  part  black.  Accord- 
ing to  Plutarch  (Qumst.  Mom.  xiv.),  it  was  a  custom 
with  the  Greeks  that  during  the  mourning  the 
women  should  shave  off  their  hair,  and  the  men 
should  let  theirs  grow,  if  the  regular  usage  was 
for  the  men  to  shave  off  the  hair,  and  the  women 
to  let  theirs  grow.  Euripides  makes  mention 
(Iphig.  Aul.  1437  f.)  of  the  cutting  off  of  the  hair 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Hindu) 


476 


and  the  putting  on  of  a  black  peplum  for  mourning. 
The  Argive  custom  of  wearing  a  white  garment  for 
mourning  instead  of  a  black  one  (Plut.  op.  cit. 
xx vi.)  seems  to  have  been  an  exception. 

In  Athens  there  was  also  an  anniversary  of  the 
death  called  by  Herodotus  (iv.  26)  yev<-trt.a,  a  funeral 
feast,  during  which  sacrifices  were  offered  to  the 
earth  (tb  yrj) — a  commemoration  called  by  others 
veicvo-ta  or  wpaia.  It  is  to  be  supposed  that  such  a 
commemoration  was  chiefly  found  in  the  case  of 
men  well  known  and  highly  thought  of,  notwith- 
standing that  no  distinction  of  persons  or  classes  is 
made  by  Greek  writers.  But  a  general  feeling  of 
respect  for  tombs,  and  especially  for  ancestors,  may 
be  inferred  from  what  one  reads  in  iEsehylus  (Pers. 
401  ff.)  concerning  the  tombs  of  forefathers  (d-r/Kas 
re  irpoydvav).  Just  as  in  the  commemoration  on  the 
third  and  ninth  days  after  burial,  so  at  the  annual 
commemorations,  there  were  sacrifices,  offerings 
and  libations  (iv&yurpa)  to  the  dead,  who  was  sup- 
posed to  be  already  in  the  subterranean  world; 
whence  such  libations  took  also  the  name  of  xoa'> 
and  of  x^0Via  Xoirpd. 

The  unhappy  criminal  alone  was  denied  sepulture 
and  a  funeral.  In  Athens  the  bodies  of  criminals 
were  thrown  behind  the  tower  Melita  and  along  by 
the  northern  walls  of  the  city  (Plut.  Them.  xxii.  ; 
Plato,  Repub.  iv.  439).  The  suicide's  right  hand 
was  cut  off;  but  he  was  granted  burial.  Plato 
would  have  the  suicide  buried  in  silence  and  with- 
out any  sign  of  sepulture  [Lego.  ix.  873).  Finally, 
to  those  whose  bodies  could  not  be  obtained, 
cenotaphs  or  empty  monuments  were  erected. 
Euripides  {Hel.  1241)  says  that  it  was  a  law  of  the) 
Greeks  that  he  who  died  by  drowning  in  the  seal 
should  be  '  buried  in  a  tissue  of  empty  robes '[ 
(nevoid  8&irretv  iv  ireVXwK  icp&afuiaiv). 

Literature. — A.  J.  Evans,  Prehistoric  Tombs  of  EnossosJ 
London,  1906 ;  P.  Orsi,  [True  funebri  cretesi,  Rome,  1890  ;  F. 
Halbherr,  '  Scavi  della  Missione  archeologica  italiana  ad  Hagia 
Triada  ed  a  Festo  neU'  anno  1904,'  in  Memorie  Institute  Lorn, 
bardo,  Milan,  vol.  xxi.,  1905,  and  in  Rendiconti  Accadeviia 
Lincei,  xiv. ;  Paribeni,  '  Ricerche  nel  sepolcreto  di  Hagia 
Triada  Phaestos,'  in  Hon.  antichi,  xiv.;  Savignoni,  *Scavi  e 
scoperte  nella  necropole  di  Phaestos,'  in  Mon.  antichi ;  BSA 
i.-xiii. ;  Perrot-Chipiez,  Hist,  de  Vart  dans  Vantiquiti,  vi. 
Paris,  189S  ;  Daremberg-Saglio,  Vict,  des  antiquity  grecques 
et  romai7ies,  s.v.  'Funus';  Schliemann,  Myceiwe,  London, 
1878,  and  Orchomenos,  1879;  Schuchhardt-Schliemann,  Ex-- 
cavations,  London,  1891;  Tsountas-Manatt,  The  Mycenaean 
Age,  London,  1697  ;  Tsountas,  'E0T7/xep!s  apyaioAoyi/oj,  Athens/ 
1880-88 ;  Poulsen,  Die  Dipylongrdber  una  die  Dipylonvasen, 
Leipzig,  1905 ;  Helbig,  Das  homerische  Epos,  Leipzig,  1887  ; 
Hall,  The  oldest  Civilization  of  Greece,  London,  1901 ;  Ridge- 
way,  The  Early  Age  of  Greece,  Cambridge,  1901 ;  Rohde, 
Psyche :  Seelencult  und  Unsterblichkeitsglaube  der  Gricch&n, 
1890 ;  Raoul-Rochette,  '  Trois  memoires  sur  les  antiques 
chretiennes  des  catacombes,'  in  MAIBL  xiii.  1838 ;  Stack61- 
berg,  Die  Grdber  der  Hellenen,  Berlin,  1835 ;  Inghiranii, 
Degli  antichi  vast  fittili  sepolcrali,  Florence,  1824  ;  Conze, 
JJeber  attischen  Vasenbilder,  Rome,  1804  ;  Benndorf,  Grieck- 
ische  und  sicilische  Vasenbilder,  Berlin,  1869-70  ;  Furtwangler- 
Lbschcke,  Mykenische  Vasen,  Berlin,  1886  ;  Pervanoglu,  Das 
Fainilienmahl  auf  altgriechischen  Grabsteinen,  Leipzig,  1872  ; 
Sergi,  The  Mediterranean  Race,  London,  1901. 

G.  Sergi. 
DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 
(Hindu). — Life  and  death  stand  in  perpetual  con- 
trast. To  give  expression  to  this  fact  is  the  aim  of 
Hindu  ritual  in  all  its  processes,  down  to  the 
minutest  details.  In  the  case  of  offerings  to  the 
gods  the  participants  circumambulate  the  fire  with 
their  right  side  turned  towards  it,  and  in  a  direc- 
tion from  left  to  right ;  in  offerings  to  the  manes 
the  left  side  is  turned,  and  the  direction  is  from 
right  to  left — the  opposite  of  the  sun's  course  (see 
ClRCUMAMBULATlON)  ;  in  the  former  case  the 
right  knee  is  bowed,  in  the  latter  the  left ;  in  the 
one  the  sacrificial  cord  is  put  on  from  left  to  right 
(under  the  right  arm),  in  the  other  from  right  to 
left  (under  the  left  arm) ;  ropes  are  twisted  from 
right  to  left ;  even  numbers  are  assigned  to  the 
gods,  odd  ones  to  the  manes  ;  to  the  former  belongs 
everything  that  is  young,  healthy,  and  strong,  to 


the  latter  what  is  old,  weak,  or  deformed.  Every- 
thing that  is  bright-coloured — the  forenoon,  the 
ascending  half  of  the  month  or  the  year — is  assigned 
to  the  gods  ;  whereas  the  manes  have  their  portion 
in  all  that  is  dark — the  afternoon,  the  descending 
half  of  the  month  or  the  year.  Even  in  the  course 
of  a  human  life  the  50th  year  marks  a  boundary, 
those  who  have  not  reached  it  belonging  to  the 
gods,  those  who  have  passed  it  to  the  manes. 

Dread  of  the  evil  influence  of  the  dead,  their 
impurity,  their  return,  and  their  interference  with 
the  living  is  another  characteristic  of  the  ritual. 
Fire-brands  and  jets  of  water  serve  to  ward 
off  this  influence ;  stones  are  laid  down  be- 
tween the  village  and  the  place  of  cremation ;  on 
the  way  home  from  the  latter,  care  is  taken  to 
obliterate  footprints  in  order  to  prevent  the  dead 
from  finding  the  way,  or  perhaps  to  save  the  foot- 
print, which  is  a  possible  subject  of  magic,  from 
being  exposed  to  the  influence  of  hostile  spirits  ; 
at  the  funeral  ceremonies  plants  are  selected  whose 
names — such  as  apamdrga,  avakd,  yava — have  a 
protective  sense. 

The  living  are  bound  to  prepare  the  way  for  the 
dead  in  the  other  world,  to  provide  them  with  food 
for  their  great  journey  into  Yama's  realm,  and  to 
supply  them  with  means  for  crossing  the  rivers. 
These  ends  are  served  by  the  utkranti  or  vaitarani 
cow,  which  in  some  cases  has  been  presented  to  the 
Brahmans  before  his  death  by  the  deceased  himself 
or  his  son.  The  same  was  originally,  no  doubt, 
the  purpose  also  of  the  anustarani  cow,  which  is 
led  along  in  the  funeral  train,  and  whose  members 
are  finally  laid  upon  those  of  the  dead,  its  kidneys 
being  deposited  in  his  hands  as  food  for  Yama's 
dogs.  The  streams  which  have  to  be  crossed  are 
probably  indicated  by  the  piece  of  reed  which1  is 
introduced  into  the  wall  of  the  tomb,  and  which  is 
meant  to  serve  as  a  boat  (cf.  Cerberus,  Bridge). 

The  realm  of  the  dead  is  variously  located  in  the 
west  or  the  south — occasionally  in  the  east,  mo 
doubt  in  conformity  with  the  conception  of  Rigv. 
x.  15.  7,  which  speaks  of  the  fathers  as  aruninam 
upasthe,  'in  the  bosom  of  the  dawn.'  The  dekd 
are  sought  for  in  earth  and  air  and  heaven,  in  sun 
and  moon  and  stars — in  the  last-named  very  rarely. 
In  fact,  we  encounter  a  number  of  frequently  con- 
tradictory views,  which  originated  at  different 
times  and  among  different  races,  and  which,  after 
undergoing  artificial  amalgamation,  now  emerge  £n 
the  Vedic  ritual  and  its  hymns  (Hillebrandt,  Ved. 
Myth.,  Breslau,  1891-1902,  iii.  414  ff.). 

The  usual  method  of  disposing  of  the  dead  is 
cremation.  But  the  well-known  distinction  drawn 
in  Rigv.  x.  15.  14  between  agnidagdhas  and  anag- 
nidagdhas  (cremated  and  un-cremated  manes)  shows 
that  other  forms  were  known  and  practised.  It  is 
not  at  all  impossible  that  Rigv.  x.  18.  10  ff.  origin- 
ally refaBBM  ia  tt-"  -u"  «  *"'""'  (jSHata — ;*-, 
Gesch.  d.  ind.  Litt.,  i.  [Leipzig,  1905]  85).  But  our 
present  ritual  is  not  acquainted  with  burial  except 
as  applied  to  young  children  and  ascetics,  in  whose 
case,  from  a  motive  half-philosophic,  half-super- 
stitious, and  after  a  fashion  known  even  at  the 
present  day,  the  skull  was  split  with  a  coco-nut 
(Caland,  Altind.  Bestatt.  §  50,  p.  95).  The  only 
other  trace  which  appears  to  point  with  any  cer- 
tainty to  burial  is  found  in  the  imaianaehiti,  which 
follows  the  placing  of  the  remains  in  the  urn.  The 
Brahmans  were  reluctant  to  abandon  old  customs ; 
they  modified  them  when  necessary,  and  linked 
them  on  to  other  existing  usages.  Just  as  the 
pravargya  ceremony — once  an  independent  milk- 
offering — was  combined  with  the  soma-offering,  so 
the  non-obligatory  hnaianachiti  may  have  beeD 
originally  an  independent  custom.  In  the  measures 
of  this  chiti  Caland  [I.e.  181  f.)  has  rightly  seen  the 
'  survival '  of  original  burial ;  and  the  circumstance 


476 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Hindu) 


that  there  the  urn  is  not  interred,  but  east  away,  also 
appears  to  point  to  the  independence  of  the  kma- 
ianachiti,  for  which  urn-burial  is  not  a  necessity. 

The  data  as  to  burial  are  found  in  the  Vedic 
hymns,  and  especially  in  the  Sutras — the  Grhya 
and  Pitrmedha  and  kindred  texts — and  in  the 
records  of  modern  usages.  It  is  not  without 
interest  that  many  of  the  regulations  of  the  Sutras 
find  parallels  at  the  present  day  among  Indian 
tribes.  As  we  find  the  injunction  that  those  re- 
turning from  the  place  of  cremation  are  to  deposit 
stones  or  other  objects  between  the  dead  man  and 
his  village,  so  '  the  Mangars  of  Nepal  obstruct  the 
road  leading  from  the  grave  with  a  barricade  of 
thorns,  through  which  the  soul,  conceived  of  as  a 
miniature  man,  very  tender  and  fragile,  is  unable 
to  force  its  way'  (Census  of  India,  1901,  i.  355). 
On  the  other  hand,  our  Sutras  do  not  contain  an 
account  of  all  the  customs  that  existed  or  may 
have  existed,  and  do  not  coincide  with  the  ritual 
known  to  the  Rigveda.  An  interesting  illustration 
of  this  is  supplied  by  Dr.  Bloch  (Annual  Report  of 
the  Arehceol.  Survey,  Bengal  circle,  for  the  year  end- 
ing April  1905,  Calcutta,  1905  [ZDMG  lx.  227  ff.]), 
who  opened  some  burial-mounds  at  Lauriya,  and 
found  in  the  midst  of  them  remains  of  a  wooden 
post  (sthiina),  which  recalls  the  post  mentioned  in 
Rigv.  x.  18.  13,  and  of  whose  meaning  the  Sutra 
ritual  gives  us  no  idea. 

It  would  be  quite  out  of  place  here  to  treat  even 
superficially  of  the  huge  mass  of  prescriptions  to 
be  found  in  published  and  unpublished  texts,  or  of 
the  variations  presented  by  the  usages  of  different 
schools  and  families.  Caland  divides  the  whole 
ceremonial  into  114  acts,  not  to  speak  of  the  varia- 
tions found  in  each  of  these.  It  is  equally  impossible 
to  discuss  the  numerous  verses  which  accompany 
the  particular  acts,  and  whose  real  relation  to 
these  is  not  always  clear  ;  or,  more  especially,  the 
circumstantial  casuistry  with  which  the  highly 
ingenious  spirit  of  Brahmanism  has  sought,  in  a 
manner  that  is  far  from  uninteresting,  to  provide 
for  all  possibilities.  Like  the  ceremonies  connected 
with  birth,  those  attending  on  death  are  a  sam- 
skara. '  It  is  well  known,'  says  the  Baudhayana 
Pitrmedha,  iii.  1.  4,  '  that  through  the  samskara 
after  birth  one  conquers  earth  ;  through  the 
samskara  after  death,  heaven.'  Ritualists  are 
therefore  eager  to  have  this  samskara  performed 
with  care  and  with  regard  to  all  circumstances. 
It  may  happen,  for  instance,  that  the  Hindu  dies 
in  a  foreign  land  and  must  be  brought  home,  or 
that  he  dies  there  and  remains  forgotten.  In  the 
latter  case  cremation  is  performed  in  effigy  upon  a 
human  figure  composed  of  palaia  stems.  Should 
it  chance,  however,  that  after  all  the  man  returns 
alive,  the  ritual  provides  even  for  this,  and  ordains 
that  he  must  be  born  anew — i.e.  undergo  all  the 
rites  of  jatakarman,  in  which  he  sits  speechless  and 
with  clenched  fists,  like  an  embryo  in  the  womb 
(Caland,  §  44).  When  a  prostitute  dies,  she  must 
not  be  cremated,  according  to  some  teachers,  with 
ordinary  fire,  but  with  that  of  the  forest,  wild  and 
unchecked.  Other  regulations  apply  to  the  death 
of  a  widow  or  a  woman  in  childbirth.  If  a  man 
longs  for  death,  he  presents  an  offering,  the  various 
acts  in  which  symbolize  this  longing  (cf.  Kat.  Sr.  S. 
xxii.  6.  1).  If  one  dies  in  the  act  of  presenting  an 
ordinary  offering,  certain  rules  are  to  be  followed. 
But  it  is  impossible  to  go  into  all  this  ;  only  when 
the  Srauta  Sutras  have  been  translated,  will  the 
historian  of  religion  'and  the  ethnographer  obtain 
full  insight  into  this  circle  of  ideas.  Here  we  must 
content  ourselves  with  a  brief  account  of  the  most 
important  features  of  the  ritual.1 

1  For  fuller  details,  see  the  present  writer'B  sketch  in  01 AP 
Iii.  2  ;  and  Caland  (op.  cit.  infra),  whose  work  is  thorough,  and 
yet  does  not  exhaust  the  enormous  quantity  of  material. 


I.  Death. — When  the  Hindu  feels  the  approach 
of  death,  he  must  summon  his  relatives,  hold 
friendly  converse  with  them,  and,  if  the  dying- 
hour  is  very  near,  have  himself  placed  on  a  cleansed 
spot  on  sandy  soil.  It  promotes  his  future  weal  to 
make  presents  before  his  death  to  Brahmans ; 
among  these  gifts  a  special  value  attaches  to  the 
vaitarani-  cow  as  his  conductor  over  the  stream  of 
the  under  world.  His  dying-couch  is  prepared  in 
proximity  to  the  three  fires,  or,  if  he  keeps  up  only 
one,  near  to  it,  viz.  the  domestic  fire,  and  here  he 
is  laid  down  with  his  head  turned  towards  the 
south.  In  his  ear  are  repeated  passages  from  the 
Veda  of  his  school,  or,  if  he  is  a  Brahmavid,  from 
an  Aranyaka.  When  death  has  taken  place,  they 
bring  the  corpse  to  a  covered  place,  and  then  (or, 
with  many,  at  a  later  stage)  cut  his  hair  and  nails, 
which,  according  to  Gautama  (ii.  24),  should  be 
deposited  in  a  hole  in  the  ground.  Many  follow 
the  practice  (prohibited  by  others)  of  opening  the 
body,  removing  the  excrements,  and  replacing  the 
entrails  after  they  have  been  washed  in  water  and 
filled  with  butter — a  procedure  intended,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  present  writer,  simply  to  facilitate 
cremation,  which  would  be  hampered  by  the  heavy 
fceces.  Then  the  corpse,  with  its  head  turned 
towards  the  south,  is  laid  upon  a  bier  covered  with 
a  black  skin  ;  on  the  dead  man's  head  is  placed  a 
wreath  of  nard  ;  he  is  clothed  down  to  the  feet 
in  a  new  robe,  the  old  one  being  given  to  the  son, 
to  a  pupil,  or  to  the  wife  of  the  deceased,  to  be 
worn  for  life  or  till  it  becomes  too  old  for  use. 
Others  have  a  piece  of  the  death-robe  cut  off,  and 
hand  it  over  to  be  kept  by  the  sons.  Noteworthy 
is  the  practice  of  some,  who  bind  together  the 
thumbs  (or  the  toes)  of  the  deceased — a  custom 
which,  as  Caland  [I.e.  176)  and  Steinmetz  (op. 
Caland)  remark,  is  found  also  among  other  than 
Indian  peoples  (see  above,  p.  433"). 

If  the  deceased  has  in  his  lifetime  presented 
animal-offerings,  three  he-goats  are  provided  ;  if 
he  has  offered  samnayya  (sweet  and  sour  milk 
libations)  at  new  and  full  moon,  a  milk-offering 
(amiksa)  is  to  be  presented  [evidently  slight  differ- 
ences of  cult  going  back  to  primeval  times].  If 
goats  are  not  used,  many  take  '  black  rice-grains, ' 
of  which  from  one  to  three  rice-paps  are  made.  A 
remarkable  figure  is  that  of  an  old,  un-horned, 
vicious  cow  (anustarani).  When  the  cow  is 
brought,  the  servants  of  the  deceased  have  each 
to  throw  three  handfuls  of  dust  over  their  shoulders. 
At  the  head  of  the  procession  (according  to  the 
teaching  of  many)  walks  a  man  with  a  firebrand 
which  he  has  kindled  at  the  domestic  fire ;  he  is 
followed  by  the  sacrificial  fires  of  the  deceased  and 
the  apparatus  for  the  cremation  ceremony,  includ- 
ing the  above-mentioned  anustarani  cow  ;  next  in 
order  is  the  dead  man  on  his  couch,  which  is  placed 
on  a  mat  or  on  the  before-mentioned  bier,  carried 
by  servants,  old  people,  sons,  or  relatives  near  and 
remote,  according  as  the  custom  may  be.  In  many 
circles  it  is  the  practice— still  followed  in  certain 
instances  in  India — to  employ  for  the  transport  of 
the  corpse  a  waggon  drawn  by  black  oxen,  and  to 
place  upon  it  also  the  fires  and  sacrificial  utensils 
of  the  deceased.  Behind  the  corpse  come  the 
relatives,  the  older  ones  first,  men  and  women, 
the  latter  with  loose  dishevelled  hair  and  their 
shoulders  besprinkled  with  dust.  [In  points  of 
detail  we  meet  with  many  variations.]  When  the 
corpse  is  lifted,  the  invocation,  '  May  Pusan  bring 
thee  from  here  ! '  is  addressed  to  Pusan,  who  in 
the  whole  ceremonial  appears  as  \pvxoirofiTrbs — a 
r61e  already  assigned  him  in  the  Rigveda.  When 
a  third  or  a  fourth  of  the  way  has  been  covered,  one 
of  the  goats  is  killed,  or  one  of  the  paps  of  rice  (or, 
if  there  be  only  one,  a  third  of  it)  is  poured  upon  a 
clod  of  earth  thrown  to  the  south.     Thereupon  the 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Hindu) 


477 


company,  with  the  younger  ones  in  front,  thrice 
circumambulate  the  corpse  and  the  clod  from  right 
to  left,  with  their  hair  loose  on  the  left  side  and 
bound  up  on  the  right,  at  the  same  time  striking 
their  right  thigh  with  the  hand  and  fanning  the 
corpse  with  the  extremity  of  their  garments.  Then 
comes  a  thrice-repeated  circumambulation  from 
left  to  right,  with  the  hair  loose  on  the  right  side 
and  bound  up  on  the  left,  with  a  striking  of  the 
left  thigh,  but,  according  to  the  view  of  certain 
scholars,  without  another  fanning  of  the  corpse. 
The  same  procedure  is  repeated  at  the  second  third 
of  the  journey  and  at  its  termination.  The  rice- 
vessel  is  finally  dashed  on  the  ground,  and  its 
fragments  so  shattered  that  water  will  not  remain 
upon  them.  [The  variations  encountered  here  in 
the  practice  of  the  different  schools  are  numerous. 
Some  walk  along  strewing  small  pieces  of  iron  or 
roasted  grains  of  rice  upon  the  ground,  while  they 
recite  or  sing  Yama-hymns.  The  Madhyandinas 
deposit  a  rice-clod  at  the  place  of  death,  one  near 
the  door  as  they  leave  the  house,  one  for  the  bhiltas 
half-way  between  the  dwelling  and  the  place  of 
cremation,  and  one  for  the  wind  as  soon  as  the  place 
of  cremation  is  reached,  while  one  is  deposited  in 
the  hand  of  the  deceased.] 

2.  Cremation. — Special  regulations,  particularly 
as  to  its  orientation,  are  offered  for  the  choice  of 
the  place  of  cremation,  which  in  some  respects 
resembles  the  place  of  offering  for  the  gods,  while 
in  others  it  is  quite  different.  The  duly  selected 
spot  is  purified,  and  a  formula  is  employed  to 
scare  away  demons  or  ghosts.  The  kind  of  wood 
used,  the  size  and  orientation  of  the  pyre,  and 
everything  of  a  like  kind  are  regulated  by  rigid 
prescription,  scarcely  any  thing  being  left  to  caprice. 
The  corpse  is  now  (or  later)  laid  on  the  pyre,  the 
threads  which  bind  the  thumbs  are  loosed,  the 
cords  which  hold  the  bier  together  are  severed,  and 
the  bier  itself  is  flung  into  the  water  or  laid  on  the 
pyre,  upon  which  the  fires  of  the  deceased  also  find 
a  place.  When  all  is  done  according  to  rule,  the 
anustarani  cow  is  brought  forward,  and  so  held  by 
the  relatives  of  the  deceased  that  the  youngest  of 
them  touches  her  hind -quarters,  while  the  others 
are  so  arranged  that  an  older  person  always  touches 
a  younger.  The  cow  may  either  be  slaughtered  or 
—  manifestly  in  connexion  with  a  later  custom — let 
go.  The  latter  course  must  be  followed  in  the  case 
of  one  who  has  presented  no  animal-offerings.  The 
animal  is  in  that  case  led  round  the  fires,  the  pyre, 
and  the  corpse,  and  with  certain  formulae  set  free. 
To  the  north  of  the  pyre  the  widow  of  the  deceased 
crouches  down,  but  (with  formula?  which  originally 
belonged  to  an  entirely  different  ritual)  is  called  on 
to  rise  and  return  to  the  world  of  life.  There,  too, 
is  placed  the  bow  of  the  deceased,  which  is  after- 
wards cast  upon  the  pyre.  Upon  the  openings  of 
the  face  are  laid  small  pieces  of  gold,  or  at  least 
melted  butter  is  allowed  to  trickle  down  upon 
them.  The  sacrificial'  utensils  of  the  dead,  which 
he  has  had  in  his  possession  since  the  kindling  of 
the  fires,  are  distributed  over  his  limbs,  those  of 
them  that  have  a  cavity  being  filled  with  butter — 
plainly  for  the  purpose  of  feeding  the  fire ;  the  two 
millstones  (according  to  one  version)  are  appro- 
priated by  the  son,  and  so  is  everything  made  of 
copper,  brass,  or  clay.  In  like  manner  the  parts 
of  the  cow  are  distributed  over  the  members  of  the 
deceased  :  the  caul,  for  instance,  heing  laid  on  his 
head  and  face,  the  kidneys  (for  Yama's  dogs)  being 
placed  in  his  hands,  along  with  a  lump  of  curds 
(for  Mitra-Varuna)  if  he  has  presented  saihnayya- 
offerings.  Before  or  during  the  process  of  cremation 
[here,  as  almost  everywhere,  different  opinions  pre- 
vail in  the  schools]  the  pyre  is  asperged  after  a 
fashion  that  may  still  be  observed :  the  person 
performing  this  office  walks  round  the  pyre  carrying 


on  his  left  shoulder  a  pitcher,  in  the  back  of  which 
there  has  been  made,  by  an  axe  or  a  stone,  a  hole 
through  which  the  water  runs  out.  After  a  triple 
circumambulation  he  casts  the  pitcher  behind  him. 

Now  begins  the  cremation,  which  is  regarded  as 
an  offering  into  the  fire,  conducting  the  corpse  to 
heaven  as  a  sacrificial  gift.  In  the  Daksina-ftxe 
are  offered  libations  for  Agni,  Kama,  Loka,  etc., 
and  finally  a  libation  on  the  breast  of  the  deceased 
to  Agni,  '  who  is  now  to  be  born  of  him  as  he  once 
was  of  Agni.'  If  the  man  was  an  Anahitagni,  the 
firebrand_  is  taken  from  the  domestic  fire ;  if  he 
was  an  Ahitagni,  the  cremation  is  performed  by 
the  flames  of  the  three  or  five  fires  kept  up  by  him. 
Note  is  taken  of  which  fire  reaches  him  first,  and 
it  is  augured  therefrom  whether  the  deceased  has 
gone  into  the  world  of  the  gods  or  of  the  manes,  or 
into  some  other  world.  To  the  north-east  of  the 
ahavanlya  a  knee-deep  trench  is  dug,  in  which  a 
certain  water-plant  is  placed — clearly  an  ancient 
superstition — in  order  to  cool  the  heat  of  the  fire. 
The  traditional  explanation  of  the  custom  is  that 
'  the  dead  man  rises  from  the  trench  and  ascends 
along  with  the  smoke  to  heaven.'  Behind  the 
pyre  a  goat  is  fastened,  but  in  such  a  manner  that 
it  is  possible  for  it  to  break  away,  and,  if  it  does 
so,  nothing  is  done  to  prevent  it.  The  cremation 
is  accompanied  by  a  number  of  verses  or  songs 
selected  according  to  the  school  to  which  the 
deceased  belonged.  While  the  pyre  continues  to 
blaze,  the  relatives  move  off  without  looking  round. 
The  officiant  gives  them  seven  pebbles,  which  on 
their  way  home  they  scatter  with  the  left  hand 
turned  downwards.  [According  to  the  prescription 
of  another  school,  three  trenches  are  dug  behind 
the  pyre  ;  they  are  then  filled  with  water  from  an 
uneven  number  of  pitchers,  and  gravel  is  thrown 
in.  The  relatives  enter  the  trenches,  touch  the 
water,  and  then  creep  through  branches  set  in  the 
ground  behind,  and  bound  together  by  a  rope  made 
of  darbha-stx&vr.  The  last  to  creep  through  tears 
the  branches  apart.  Gautama  directs  a  thorny 
branch,  Vaikhanasa,  a  grass  snare,  to  be  held  in 
front  of  them,  under  which  they  must  creep.]  The 
company,  as  they  leave  the  place  of  cremation,  must 
restrain  themselves  from  any  exhibition  of  mourn- 
ing, and  go  forward  with  heads  bent  down,  enter- 
taining one  another  with  well-omened  speeches 
and  virtuous  tales.  Many  tears,  it  is  said,  burn 
the  dead  (cf.  RaghuvaniAa,  viii.  86).  Yudhisthira 
is  rebuked  by  Vyasa  for  bewailing  the  death  of  his 
nephew.  Story-tellers  (pauranikas,  etc. )  are  there- 
fore engaged  in  order  to  drive  away  by  their  skill 
the  sorrows  of  the  relatives  (Liiders,  ZDMG  lviii. 
706  ft'.). 

3.  Udakakarman. — The  offering  of  water  to  the 
deceased  which  follows  is  carried  out  in  a  variety 
of  ways.  According  to  one  view,  all  the  relatives 
— down  to  the  seventh  or  tenth  generation — must 
enter  the  water.  They  wear  only  a  single  gar- 
ment, and  the  sacrificial  cord  hangs  over  the  right 
shoulder  ;  many  also  direct  that  the  hair  must  be 
dishevelled  and  dust  thrown  upon  the  body.  They 
turn  their  face  towards  the  south,  plunge  under 
the  water,  call  upon  the  dead  by  name,  and  offer 
him  a  handful  of  water.  Then  they  emerge,  bow 
the  left  knee,  and  wring  their  dripping  garment. 

An  interesting  usage  prevails  at  the  present  day.  Immediately 
after  the  bath  a  quantity  of  boiled  rice  and  peas  is  set  out  for  the 
crows  (Caland,  p.  78).  This  recalls  the  primitive  notion  that  the 
dead  appear  as  birds,  and  the  comparison  of  the  Maruts  with 
birds,  for  the  Maruts  are  an  offshoot  from  the  cult  of  the  dead. 
Scarcely  anything  connected  with  the  history  of  cults  can  be 
seen  more  interesting  or  more  strongly  reminiscent  of  the  earlier 
times  than  an  enormous  Pipal  tree — not  the  one  sacred  to  the 
Buddhist  community  on  the  western  side  of  the  stupa — growing 
to  the  north  of  the  Buddhist  sanctuary  at  Bodh-Gaya,  beneath 
which  offerings  to  the  manes  are  continuously  presented,  while 
blackbirds  fly  to  and  fro  amongst  its  brancnes. 

After   the   bath   the   relatives   seat  themselves 


478 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Hindu) 


upon  a  clean  grassy  spot,  where  they  are  regaled 
with  stories  or  Yama-songs.  They  do  not  return 
to  the  village  till  the  first  star  shows  itself,  or 
the  sun  is  partly  set,  or  the  herds  come  home. 
At  the  door  of  the  house  they  chew  leaves  of 
the  pichumanda  (Azadirachta  indica),  rinse  their 
mouth,  touch  water,  fire,  cow-dung,  etc.,  or  inhale 
the  smoke  of  a  certain  species  of  wood,  tread  upon 
a  stone,  and  then  enter. 

4.  Asaucha  (uncleanness). — The  occurrence  of 
death  renders  those  associated  with  it  unclean — 
a  condition  which  lasts  from  1  to  10  days,  and 
is  variously  regulated  according  to  circumstances 
and  the  usages  of  particular  schools.  '  After  ten 
days '  the  mourning  ceremonies  for  Indumatl  are 
ended  (RaghuvaMa,  viii.  73).  The  prescriptions 
to  be  attended  to  during  the  diaucha  are  partly 
negative — in  so  far  as  they  forbid  certain  things, 
such  as  the  cutting  of  the  hair  and  beard,  study 
of  the  Vedas,  GV/iya-offerings  ;  and  partly  positive 
— e.g.  the  enjoining  of  certain  offerings.  The  first 
night  a  rice-ball  is  offered  to  the  dead,  before  and 
after  which  water  for  washing  is  poured  out  for 
him,  and  he  is  called  on  by  name.  Milk  and 
water  are  set  out  for  him  in  the  open  air.  Many 
set  out  perfumes  and  drinks  for  him,  as  well  as  a 
lamp  to  facilitate  his  progress  through  the  terrible 
darkness  that  enshrouds  the  road  to  the  city  of 
Yama.  Others  cause  a  trench  to  be  dug,  into 
which  perfumes  and  flowers  are  cast,  while  a  pot 
suspended  by  a  noose  is  hung  over  it.  Even  to- 
day the  notion  is  to  be  met  with  that  a  thread 
serves  the  spirit  of  the  deceased  as  a  ladder  to  reach 
the  drink  suspended  by  it  (Caland,  p.  88). 

5.  Samchayana. — The  collecting  of  the  bones 
after  cremation  is  usually  carried  out  on  an 
uneven  day ;  according  to  some,  during  the  dark 
half  of  the  month,  and  under  certain  constella- 
tions. For  the  bones  of  a  man  a  plain  urn  is 
employed  ;  for  those  of  a  woman,  a  '  female '  one, 
i.e.  one  adorned  with  breasts.  The  bones  are 
picked  up  one  by  one,  with  the  thumb  and  ring- 
finger,  and  are  laid  without  noise  in  the  urn. 
Among  the  Taittiriyas  this  duty  is  performed  by 
women,  regarding  the  selection  of  whom  the  pre- 
scriptions vary.  According  to  the  rules  of  Bau- 
dhayana  they  must  attach  a  fruit  of  the  brhatl- 
plaut  to  their  left  hand  with  a  dark-blue  and  a  red 
thread,  mount  upon  a  stone,  wipe  their  hands 
once  with  an  apamdrga--pla.nt,  and  with  closed 
eyes  collect  the  bones  with  the  left  hand.  The 
urn,  which  is  closed  with  a  lid,  is  placed  in  a 
trench  prepared  in  the  same  manner  as  the  place 
of  cremation,  and  having  no  flow  to  it  except  rain- 
water ;  or  it  may  be  laid  under  the  root  of  a  tree. 
Others  place  grass  and  a  yellow  cloth  in  a  trench, 
and  then  throw  in  the  bones.  From  the  latest 
period  we  have  an  account  of  how  one  '  puts  [the 
remains]  into  a  little  new  barrel,  and  throws  them 
into  the  water,  if  there  be  any  at  hand,  or,  if  not, 
into  some  desert  and  lonely  place.'  The  Kapola- 
Banias  tie  up  the  bones  in  a  piece  '  of  silken  cloth, 
and  the  bundle  so  made  is  suspended  to  the  bough 
of  a  tree  in  the  burning-ground'  (JASB  iii.  8, 
p.  489  ;  Caland,  105384).  Many  schools  enjoin  a 
second  cremation,  in  which  the  bones  that  have 
survived  the  first  process  are  pulverized,  mixed 
with  butter,  and  then  offered  in  the  fire. 

6.  Santikarman. — This  is  another  important 
department  of  the  death-ritual.  [In  many  cere- 
monies it  comes  at  trie  point  we  have  now  reached, 
in  many  not  till  after  the  kmaAdnakarana.  The 
reason  for  this  appears  to  be  that  the  samchayana 
and  the  Smaidnakarana  were  originally  parallel 
usages,  which  were  only  afterwards  brought  into 
connexion,  and  the  Sdntikarman  continued  in 
several  schools  to  hold  the  place  which  belonged 
to  it  at  first.]     According  to    Asvalayana,    the 


ceremony  is  to  be  held  on  the  day  of  new  moon. 
The  same  authority  directs  that  a  fire,  with  ashes 
and  fireplace,  is  to  be  carried  southwards  and  set 
down  at  a  cross-road  or  elsewhere ;  then  the  par- 
ticipants are  to  circumambulate  it  thrice,  striking 
the  left  thigh  with  the  left  hand.  [Others  kindle 
an  ordinary  fire  at  a  spot  between  the  village  and 
the  ima&dna  ground.]  Then  they  return  without 
looking  round,  touch  water,  and  furnish  them- 
selves with  a  number  of  new  articles — jugs,  jars, 
fire-sticks  of  ^aroj-wood,  etc.  The  fire  is  kindled 
afresh,  and  they  sit  till  nightfall  around  it,  enter- 
taining one  another  with  auspicious  stories.  When 
the  stillness  of  night  reigns,  an  uninterrupted 
stream  of  water  is  poured  around  the  house  from 
the  south  to  the  north  side  of  the  door,  and  then 
the  participants  take  their  places  on  an  ox-skin 
that  is  spread  for  them.  The  formulae  uttered 
during  this  and  other  parts  of  the  ceremony  have 
regard  to  life  and  the  averting  of  death.  A  stone 
is  laid  down  to  the  north  of  the  fire,  '  to  keep  off 
death.'  The  young  women  anoint  their  eyes  with 
fresh  butter.  Many  texts  speak  also  of  the  leading 
around  of  an  ox,  of  which  the  company  take  hold 
and  walk  behind  it :  the  one  who  closes  the  pro- 
cession has  to  obliterate  the  footmarks.  A  strange 
notion  entertained  by  certain  Indian  tribes  is  cited 
by  Caland  (I.e.)  from  the  Bombay  Gazetteer  (xiii. 
1,  passim),  to  the  effect  that,  at  an  assembly  held 
on  the  12th  day,  the  dead  man  takes  possession  of 
one  of  the  company  and  intimates  what  his  f  riendi 
are  to  do  for  him,  or  takes  leave  of  his  relatives. 

The  fundamental  aim  of  the  idntilcarman  is  to 
take  effective  measures  to  ward  off  evil  and  to 
return  to  ordinary  life.  Hence  even  the  fife  that 
served  the  deceased  is  removed — not,  however,  by 
the  door — and  extinguished  outside.  Its  ashes  are 
placed  on  a  mat  or  in  an  old  basket,  and  carried  to 
the  south  or  the  south-west,  where  they  are  set 
down  on  a  saliferous,  and  therefore  unfruitful, 
piece  of  ground  (Caland,  114).  The  new  fire  is 
kindled  by  the  eldest  son,  after  (or,  sometimes, 
before)  the  removal  of  the  old.  The  Rigveda  is 
acquainted  with  a  similar  ceremonial,  but  the 
details  of  the  ritual  are  considerably  different 
(Hillebrandt,  Ved.  Myth.  ii.  108  ff.). 

Many  of  the  ceremonies  prescribed  by  the  ritual  literature 
for  the  Mnlikarman  are  connected  by  some  authorities  with 
the  frmasdna  :  e.g.  the  digging  of  seven  trenches  to  represent 
the  seven  rivers  is  met  with  sometimes  in  the  one  ceremony, 
sometimes  in  the  other ;  but  for  the  general  interest  of  the 
subject  it  is  a  matter  of  no  great  importance  to  what  part  of 
the  death-ritual  we  assign  particular  actions. 

7.  Pitrmedha  or  smasana. — The  questions  for 
whom  and  at  what  time  the  imaidna  is  to  be 
performed  have  given  rise  to  ritual  discussion, 
and  have  been  variously  answered  by  the  different 
schools.  The  season  of  the  year  and  the  reigning 
constellations  are  also  of  significance ;  on  the 
whole,  a  preference  seems  to  have  been  given  to 
the  day  of  the  new  moon.  On  the  preceding  day 
certain  plants  are  rooted  up  at  the  spot  destined 
for  the  imaidna,  to  the  north  of  which  earth  is 
dug  up,  and  from  this  are  made  the  600-2400 
bricks  which  serve  for  the  structure,  besides  the 
number  (not  precisely  defined)  employed  for  pack- 
ing. The  urn  with  the  ashes  is  brought  and  laid 
between  three^>a£aia-stakes  driven  into  the  ground 
inside  a  hut  which  must  be  between  the  village 
and  the  imas'dna  spot.  If  the  bones  are  not  to  be 
found  in  the  trench  mentioned  above,  dust  is  taken 
from  this  spot,  or  the  dead  man  is  called  upon  from 
the  bank  of  a  river,  and  then  any  small  animal 
(this  being  taken  to  represent  him)  that  happens 
to  spring  upon  an  outspread  cloth  is  treated  as  if 
it  were  the  bones.  Upon  the  three  stakes  is  placed 
a  perforated  vessel  containing  sour  milk  and  whey, 
which  trickles  through  the  numerous  holes  upon 
the  urn  below.     To  trumpet  blast  and  the  sound 


DEATH  AND  DISFOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Indian,  non-Aryan) 


478 


of  the  lute  the  company  circumambulate  the  spot 
after  the  fashion  already  described  (striking  the 
left  thigh  with  the  hand,  etc.),  and  fan  the  urn 
with  the  extremities  of  their  garments.  [Many 
ritual  authorities  speak  also  of  song  and  dance 
and  female  dancers  :  some  do  not  mention  the 
hut ;  others  have  additions  to,  or  modifications  of, 
the  above.  The  variations  are  great,  indeed  :  e.g. 
some  place  an  empty  kettle  in  the  hut,  and  beat  it 
with  an  old  shoe.] 

The  ceremonies  take  place  during  the  first, 
middle,  and  last  parts  of  the  night.  The  com- 
pany repairs  quite  early  to  the  Smaiana  spot, 
regarding  whose  extent  there  are  widely  deviating 
prescriptions.  It  must  be  out  of  sight  of  the  vil- 
lage, in  a  hidden  situation,  yet  visited  by  the  rays 
of  the  midday  sun.  The  spot  must  be  staked  off  and 
surrounded  with  a  rope,  and — as  in  the  case  of  the 
agnichayana,  with  whose  ritual  the  imaiana  has 
many  points  of  contact — its  surface  must  be  covered 
with  small  stones.  Furrows  must  be  opened  with 
a  plough  drawn  by  six  or  more  oxen,  and  various 
seeds  cast  into  them.  In  the  middle  of  the  ground 
a  hole  is  made,  into  which  gravel,  saliferous  earth, 
etc.,  are  cast.  Milk  from  a  cow  whose  calf  died  is 
poured  into  the  half  of  a  bowl  and  stirred  up  with 
groats  into  a  kind  of  drink  ;  and  this,  or  some- 
thing else,  is  set  out  as  food  for  the  dead.  [Towards 
the  south  (according  to  some)  two  crooked  trenches 
are  to  be  opened,  and  filled  with  milk  and  water. 
It  may  be  mentioned,  as  one  of  the  numerous 
and  frequently  characteristic  details,  that  in  the 
imaiana  a  piece  of  reed  is  immured,  apparently 
to  serve  the  purpose  of  a  boat  to  the  deceased  (cf. 
above,  p.  475b).  ]  The  bones  are  laid  down  upon  a 
bed  of  darbka-gr&sa,  arranged  in  the  figure  of  a 
man,  covered  with  an  old  cloth,  and  asperged. 
The  urn  is  destroyed.  Over  the  remains  is  erected 
the  monument,  which  conforms  to  a  definitely 
prescribed  plan,  and  in  which  the  present  writer 
sees  the  precursor  of  the  stupa  of  later  days. 
When  the  structure  has  reached  a  certain  height, 
food  for  the  dead  is  walled  in.  After  its  com- 
pletion, the  imaiana  is  covered  with  earth,  and 
water  is  poured  over  it  from  pitchers  which  it 
is  the  custom  to  destroy,  or  it  is  bestrewn  with 
aro&a-plants  and  &M&s-grass.  Much  is  done 
also  to  separate  the  world  of  the  living  from 
that  of  the  dead :  the  boundary  betwixt  them  is 
marked  by  lumps  of  earth,  stones,  and  branches ; 
and  the  same  purpose  is  served  by  the  uttering  of 
certain  formulae. 

The  soul  of  the  deceased  does  not  pass  at  once 
into  the  world  of  the  Pitaras  ;  it  remains  separate 
from  them  for  a  time  as  a  preta,  or  '  spirit,'  and 
has  special  offerings  presented  to  it.  But,  after 
the  lapse  of  a  certain  period,  or  when  some  for- 
tunate circumstance  occurs,  the  dead  man  reaches 
the  circle  of  the  manes  through  the  instrumentality 
of  the  sapindikarana.  The  grandfather  now  drops 
out,  since,  as  a  rule',  only  three  rice-balls  are 
presented ;  but,  as  one  of  the  manes,  he  receives 
his  place  in  the  ancestor-cult.  This  cult  has 
struck  its  roots  deep  in  Indian  life.  To  feed  the 
ancestors,  to  propitiate  or  keep  them  away,  and 
to  summon  their  aid,  are  the  purposes  served 
by  the  iraddhas  described  in  ritual-  and  law- 
books. The  Srdddhas  are  offered  either  on  special 
occasions,  when  fortunate  occurrences  take  place, 
or  regularly  at  certain  periods  of  time.  To  the 
first  category  belong  the  birth  of  a  son,  the 
namakarana,  and  other  festivals,  when  the  manes 
are  spoken  of  as  '  cheerful,'  and  are  honoured  in 
the  same  way  as  the  gods  :  to  the  second  belong 
the  daily  worship  of  the  manes,  that  on  the  day 
of  the  new  moon,  the  monthly  worship,  the  great 
offering  to  the  manes  at  the  four  months'  sacri- 
fices, at  the  soma-sacrifices,  and  the  astaka  cele- 


bration with  the  anvastakya,  which  coincide  with 
the  close  of  the  year  (see,  for  details,  the  present 
writer's  sketch  in  GIAP  iii.  2). 

Literature. — Bloomfield,  'Women  as  Mourners  in  the  Athar- 
vaveda,  AJPh  xi.  18 ;  Shib  Chandra  Eose,  The  Hindoos  at 
they  are",  Calcutta,  1883,  p.  262ff.;  W.  Caland,  Altind. 
Ahnencult,  Leyden,  1893,  Altind.  Todten-  und  Bestattungs- 
gebrduche,  Amsterdam,  1896  (largely  used  in  the  present 
article) ;  Census  of  India,  1901,  i.  356  (a  few  remarks);  H.  T. 
Colebrooke,  Life  and  Essays,  London,  1873,  ii.  173  ff  •  W. 
Crooke,  Popular  Religion  and  Folklore  of  Northern  India, 
new  ed.,  2  voIb.,  London,  1896 ;  J.  A.  Dubois,  Hindu  Manners, 
Customs, and  Ceremonies,  Eng.  tr., Oxford,  1897  ;  H.  M.  Durand, 
'Notes  sur  une  cremation  chezles Chains,'  Bull,  de  Vicole  franc, 
de  Vextrime  Orient,  iii.  [1903]  447 ff.;  J.  G.  Frazer,  'On  certain 
Burial  Customs,'  JAl  xv.  [1886]  64;  G.  A.  Grierson,  Bihar 
Peasant  Life,  Calcutta,  1886,  p.  391;  A.  Hillebrandt,  Ritual- 
Litteratur,  Ved.  Opfer  u.  Zauber,  Strassburg,  1897  {GIAP  iii.  2 
(largely  used  in  the  present  article)] ;  Lanman,  '  Mortuary 
Urns,'  PAOS xcviii.  [1891] ;  Leclerc, '  La  Fete  des  eaux  a  Phnom 
Penh,'.BtiM.  del 'ecole  franc,  iv.  [1904]  120  f.,  130;  Rajendra  Lala 
Mitra,'  Funeral  Ceremonies  of  the  Ancient  Hindus,  'JASBxxxix. 
241ff.,  Taitt.  Jranyaka,  Calcutta,  1872,  p.  33  ff.;  Monseur, 
'  Coutumes  et  croyances  relatives  a  la  mort '  in  Bulletin  de  Folk- 
lore (organ  of  the  Belgium  Folklore  Society),  iii.  2,  Brussels, 
1898;  M.  Miiller,  'Ueber  Totenbestattung  u.  Opfergebrauche 
im  Veda,'  ZDAIG  ix.  [1855],  India,  What  can  it  teach  us  ?, 
London,  1S83,  pp.  240, 274ff., '  Funeral  Ceremonies,'  in  Anthropo- 
logical Religion,  London,  1892,  p.  236  ff . ;  H,  Oldenberg,  Reli- 
gion des  Veda,  Berlin,  1894,  p.  624 ff.;  P.  Regrnaud,  'LeSraddha 
vedique,'  RHR  xxv.  61  ff.;  R.  Roth,  'Die  Todtenbestattung  im 
indisclien  Altertum,'  ZDMG  viii.  [1860]  467 ff.;  A.  F.  Stenzler, 
Indische  Hattsregeln,  i.  Aivalayana  [tr.  Leipzig,  1865]); 
Weber,  Ved.  Beitrage,  iv.  Berlin,  1896,  p.  815  ff.  [BBA  W\ ;  Win- 
ternitz, '  Notes  on  Sraddnas  and  Ancestral  Worship,'  WZKM, 
iv.  199;  Rajkumar  Sarvadhikan,  Law  Lectures,  Madras, 
1880;  Monier- Williams,  1A  v.  26,  81,  200;  H.  H.  Wilson, 
Essays,  1862-77,  ii.  270  ff . ;  Ward,  A  View  of  the  Hist.  Lit.  and 
Relig.  of  the  Hindoos^,  London,  1817,  i.  200,  'Funeral  Rites,' 
ii.  331  ff.;  H.  Zimmer,  Altind.  Leben,  Berlin,  1879,  p.  400 ff.; 
A.  K.  Forbes,  Rds  Mala,  new  ed.,  London,  1878,  ii.  356 ff. 
For  other  literature,  see  Hillebrandt  (GIAP  iii.  2),  Jolly  (to. 
ii.  8,  §  67),  and  especially  Caland's  second  work  cited  above,  to 
which  may  be  added  Agni  Purdna,  157  ff. ,  163. 

A.  Hillebrandt. 
DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 

(Indian,  non-Aryan). — I.  Conception  of  death  :  not 
due  to  natural  causes. — The  conception  of  death 
among  the  non-Aryan  tribes  of  India  does  not 
materially  differ  from  that  entertained  by  other 
savage  and  semi-savage  races.  Death  is  not  re- 
garded as  the  result  of  natural  causes,  but  is  sup- 
posed to  be  due  to  the  interference  of  devils,  demons, 
or  other  evil  spirits.  This  is  particularly  the  case 
with  diseases  like  dementia,  the  delirium  of  fever, 
and  the  like,  which  seem  to  indicate  action  by 
some  indwelling  spirit.  This  belief  is  naturally 
extended  to  accidents  caused  by  wild  animals,  and 
deaths  due  to  epidemic  diseases,  each  of  which  is 
attributed  to  the  working  of  a  special  disease- 
spirit.  Hence  many  of  these  tribes  use  special 
means  to  identify  the  spirit,  and  the  methods  usu- 
ally partake  of  the  nature  of  Shamanism.  The 
soul,  again,  is  regarded  as  a  little  man  or  animal 
occupying  the  individual,  which  causes  him  to 
move.  It  leaves  the  body  through  the  skull- 
sutures  or  other  pure  orifices  of  the  body,  in  the 
case  of  persons  who  have  lived  virtuous  lives ;  in 
the  case  of  the  wicked,  by  one  or  other  of  the 
impure  exits.  The  soul  may  at  times  live  apart 
from  the  body — a  theory  which  explains  to  those 
who  hold  it  the  nature  of  dreams  and  the  danger 
of  waking  a  sleeper.  There  may  be  more  souls 
than  one,  and  these  may  have  separate  abodes — a 
belief  accounting  for  the  performance  among  some 
tribes  of  funeral  rites  at  the  place  of  death,  at  the 
grave,  or  at  some  other  spot,  where  offerings  are 
made  to  appease  the  spirit,  and  explaining  much 
of  the  vagueness  which  characterizes  their  funeral 
ceremonies.  The  soul,  again,  is  believed  to  be 
mortal ;  and  with  their  lack  of  interest  in  their 
national  history,  and  their  imperfect  recollection 
of  past  events,  these  people,  after  a  time,  regard 
their  deceased  ancestors  as  no  longer  objects  of 
reverence  or  fear,  and  the  attention  of  the  sur- 
vivors is  concentrated  on  the  more  recently  dead. 
The  soul,  when  it  leaves  the  body,  is  figured  as  a 


480 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Indian,  non-Aryan) 


naked,  feeble  niannikin,  exposed  to  all  kinds  of 
injury  until,  by  the  pious  care  of  its  friends,  a  new 
body  is  provided  for  it.  This  often  takes  the  form 
of  a  temporary  refuge — a  hut,  a  stone,  a  tree,  or 
a  piece  of  sacred  grass.  Or  the  soul  may  abide  in 
an  animal  or  insect ;  and  this  temporary  refuge, 
or,  among  tribes  who  accept  the  theory  of  metem- 
psychosis, this  form  of  re-birth,  may  be  identified 
by  laying  out  ashes  or  flour  at  the  scene  of  death. 
These,  when  carefully  examined,  often  show  the 
footmarks  of  the  creature  by  which  the  soul  has 
been  occupied.  Among  the  jungle  tribes  the  soul 
is  commonly  supposed  to  abide  in  a  tree — a  belief 
which  may  in  some  instances  have  been  suggested 
by  the  habit  of  tree-burial  (see  §  4  (h)).  In  W.  India 
a  common  refuge  of  the  soul  is  the  fivkhada,  or 
'life-stone,'  which  is  selected  at  the  time  of  the 
funeral  rites,  and  to  which  offerings  and  libations 
are  made.  This  naturally  leads  to  a  further  de- 
velopment, when  a  rude  image  of  the  deceased 
is  made,  placed  among  the  household  gods,  and 
honoured  with  gifts  of  food  and  drink.  In  some 
cases,  as  among  the  Kachins  of  Upper  Burma,  an 
attempt  is  made  to  enclose  the  soul  within  a  bar- 
rier of  bamboos,  from  which  it  is  solemnly  released 
at  the  termination  of  the  funeral  rites  (Gazetteer 
Upper  Burma,  I.  i.  409).  Sometimes,  again,  during 
this  intermediate  period,  the  soul  is  believed  to 
haunt  the  scene  of  death,  and  at  a  later  period  it 
abides  in  the  grave  or  at  the  cremation-ground. 
When  beliefs  such  as  these  are  current  among  the 
people,  it  is  obviously  of  supreme  importance  that 
the  funeral  rites  should  be  duly  performed.  No 
infective  tabu  is  more  dangerous  than  that  which 
proceeds  from  a  corpse  unpurified  by  the  customary 
rites ;  and  perhaps  no  people  in  the  world  devote 
more  anxious  care  than  the  Hindus  to  placating 
the  friendly,  and  repressing  or  scaring  away  the 
malignant,  spirits  of  the  dead. 

2.  Spirits  friendly  and  malignant. — The  line 
between  these  two  classes  of  spirits  is  clearly 
drawn,  and  it  is  based  on  the  close  family-  and 
clan-organization  of  the  non-Aryan  tribes.  The 
souls  of  the  family  dead,  unless  they  are  irritated 
by  neglect,  are  generally  benevolent ;  the  souls  of 
strangers  are,  as  a  rule,  malevolent  and  hostile. 
In  the  case  of  the  former  no  means  of  placation 
are  neglected.  Some  tribes,  after  the  soul  has  left 
the  body,  endeavour  to  recall  it,  and  invite  it  to 
abide  with  them  as  a  house-guardian  ;  others  make 
a  miniature  bridge  to  enable  it,  as  it  returns,  to 
cross  a  stream,  and  thus  evade  the  water-spirit 
(cf.  art.  BRIDGE,  ii.  2,  e) ;  others,  again,  make  a 
pretence  of  capturing  the  soul  and  bringing  it  back 
to  its  home.  The  provision  of  fire  and  light  for 
the  soul,  either  in  the  house  itself  or  at  the  grave, 
is  more  general.  Sometimes  rites  are  performed 
to  guide  the  soul  to  its  longed-for  place  of  rest ; 
or  it  is  solemnly  invited  to  leave  the  grave  and 
ascend  to  the  other  world,  where  it  is  welcomed  by 
the  friends  who  have  gone  before — a  conception  of 
the  realm  of  the  sainted  dead  which  may  have 
been  independently  arrived  at  by  the  non-Aryan 
tribes,  though  the  details  may  be  due  to  Hindu 
influence.  To  secure  the  peaceful  departure  of  the 
soul,  it  is  essential  that  the  due  egress  should  be 
provided  for  it  by  removing  the  dying  person  into 
the  open  air  or  into  an  upper  chamber — a  precau- 
tion which  possesses  the  additional  advantage  of 
relieving  the  house  from  the  death-tabu.  With 
the  same  object,  the  skull  is  often  broken  at  the 
time  of  cremation.  When  death  occurs,  the  soul 
is  placated  by  the  wailing  of  its  relatives ;  or,  as 
among  the  Kandhs,  it  is  exhorted  to  keep  quiet, 
to  employ  its  time  in  working  in  the  other  world, 
aDd  not  to  transform  itself  into  a  tiger  and  plague 
its  friends  (Risley,  TC  i.  408).  More  remark- 
able  is   the   procedure    of  the  Negas  of  Assam, 


who  curse  the  evil  spirit  which  has  removed  their 
friend,  and  threaten  to  attack  it  with  their  spears 
(JAIxxvi.  195,  xxvii.  34  ;  Dalton,  40).  This  custom 
apparently  does  not  prevail  among  the  Manipui 
branch  of  the  tribe  (T.  C.  Hodson,  The  Naga  Tribes 
of  Manipur,  1911,  p.  146 if.). 

After  death,  the  wants  of  the  dead  are  provided 
for  by  gifts  of  food  and  drink  (see  art.  Food  FOR 
the  Dead).  Among  some  tribes  the  feeling  pre 
vails  that  the  goods  of  the  dead  man  should  be 
appropriated  to  his  use,  and  not  taken  by  his 
friends,  lest  the  envious  spirit  may  return  and 
claim  them  (Dalton,  21,  205 ;  cf.  Crawley,  Mystic 
Rose,  Lond.  1902,  p.  98).  In  some  cases  a  viaticum, 
in  the  shape  of  a  coin  or  some  article  of  value,  is 
placed  with  the  corpse  to  support  it  on  its  way  to 
the  other  world,  as  among  the  Paharia  (Hosten, 
'  Paharia  Burial-Customs,'  Anthropos,  iv.  670,  672). 
But  people  in  this  grade  of  culture,  while  strictly 
governed  by  a  regard  for  precedents,  contrive  to 
evade  the  duty  by  placing  worthless  representa- 
tions of  the  dead  man's  effects  in  the  grave,  or  by 
merely  waving  them  over  his  pyre  (Rivers,  The 
Todas,  362  f.).  The  arms  and  implements  which 
are  often  buried  with  the  corpse,  or  placed  upon 
the  grave,  are  obviously  intended  for  the  protection 
or  use  of  the  dead  ;  and  these  are  sometimes  inten- 
tionally broken,  either  in  the  belief  that,  if  left 
uninjured,  they  are  useless  to  the  dead,  or  tt 
render  them  unavailable,  and  thus  prevent  the 
rifling  of  the  tomb.  Special  clothing  is  also  some- 
times provided  for  the  soul,  and,  as  the  garments 
of  the  dead  man  are  supposed  to  be  infected  by 
the  death-tabu,  they  are  generally  presented  to 
some  menial  priest,  whose  sanctity  guards  him 
from  danger  in  using  them.  Ornaments  are  some- 
times placed  in  the  grave :  a  set  of  diadems,  for 
instance,  like  those  of  Mycenae,  having  been  found 
in  a  S.  Indian  interment  at  Tinnevelly,  where  they 
were  probably  deposited  as  amulets  to  protect  the 
soul  from  evil  spirits  (Thurston,  Notes,  149  f.). 
Some  deposit  with  the  dead  a  prayer  written  by 
the  tribal  priest ;  others,  like  the  Garos  of  Assam, 
slay  a  dog  at  the  grave  to  guide  the  soul  to  Chik- 
mang,  the  tribal  paradise ;  or,  as  among  the  Gonds, 
clay  images  of  horses,  on  which  the  soul  may  ride  to 
heaven,  are  placed  on  the  tomb  (A.  Playfair,  The 
Garos,  1909,  p.  109;  Oppert,  84  f . ).  Closely  con- 
nected with  this  is  the  custom  of  slaying  human 
victims  at  the  funeral,  in  order  that  they  may 
accompany  and  serve  the  soul.  Some  of  the  wilder 
Assam  and  Burma  tribes,  down  to  quite  recent 
times,  killed  slaves  with  this  object  (Gazetteer 
Upper  Burma,  I.  i.  553 ;  F.  Mason,  Burmah, 
1860,  p.  92  f.).  Blood  being  the  favourite  form  of 
refreshment  for  the  dead,  it  is  provided  by  animal 
sacrifices.  The  victim  is  often  slain  at  the  grave, 
and  its  blood  is  poured  upon  it.  The  Andamanese 
mother  places  a  shell  full  of  her  milk  on  the  grave 
of  her  child,  and  the  Dosadh  of  the  United  Pro- 
vinces pours  blood  into  a  pit,  so  that  it  may  reach 
the  soul  (JAI  xii.  142  ;  Crooke,  TC  ii.  354).  With 
the  same  intention  water  is  poured  on  the  grave, 
or  dropped  into  the  mouth  of  the  dead  or  dying 
man.  Many  articles  of  food  placed  with  the  dead 
serve  the  additional  purpose  of  scaring  evil  spirits. 
Rites  such  as  these,  performed  at  the  grave,  natur- 
ally develop  into  a  periodical  feast  held  in  the 
house  or  in  some  holy  place  ;  food,  again,  is  offered 
to  a  rude  image  representing  the  dead.  The  final 
stage  is  reached  when  it  comes  to  be  believed  that, 
I13'  feeding  the  tribal  priest  or  a  Brahman,  the  food 
passes  on  for  the  use  of  the  soul. 

3.  Rites  performed  to  repel  evil  spirits. — The 
rites  performed  in  the  case  of  the  malignant  dead 
assume  another  form.  Such  spirits  are  the  souls 
of  those  who  have  been  removed  from  this  world 
by  an  untimely  or  tragical  death — those   of  the 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Indian,  non-Aryan) 


481 


murdered,  the  unburied,  the  unmarried,  childless 
women,  robbers,  men  of  evil  life,  and  strangers. 
These  are  included  under  the  general  title  of  bhut 
(Skr.  bhuta,  '  formed,'  '  produced  ') — a  term  which 
does  not  necessarily  connote  malignancy,  but  is 
now  generally  accepted  in  this  sense.  They  all 
cherish  feelings  of  envy  and  malignancy  towards 
the  living,  and  it  is  necessary  to  placate  or,  more 
generally,  to  repress  and  coerce  them.  The  souls 
of  the  unmarried  dead  are  often  propitiated  by  a 
mock  posthumous  marriage,  in  which  a  boy  or  girl 
represents  the  dead  youth  or  maiden.  For  the 
unburied  dead  a  mock  funeral  is  performed  over 
such  relics  of  the  dead  as  may  have  been  recovered, 
or  over  an  image  representing  the  deceased.  The 
soul  of  a  dead  bandit,  as  among  some  of  the  robber 
tribes  of  N.  India,  is  sometimes  deified  and  wor- 
shipped. The  most  common  example  of  the  dis- 
contented spirit  is  the  chuj-el  of  N.  India,  or,  as 
she  is  called  in  the  S. ,  the  alvantin,  the  spirit  of 
a  childless  woman,  or  of  one  who  has  died  within 
the  period  of  sexual  impurity.  Like  demons  in 
other  countries,  she  has  her  feet  turned  backwards, 
and  is  much  dreaded.  She  is  repelled  by  scattering 
grain  on  the  road  from  her  grave.  When  she  rises, 
she  halts  to  collect  this,  until  the  morning  call  of 
the  cock  forces  her  to  return — a  practice  extended 
even  to  the  benignant  dead  by  the  Paharias  of 
British  Sikkim,  who  drive  a  nail  through  each 
finger  and  toe  of  a  prospective  churel,  to  prevent 
her  from  harassing  the  living  (Hosten,  673,  679). 
The  ghost  of  a  mutilated  person  is  also  an  object 
of  fear  ;  but,  except  among  the  Chakmas  of  the  E. 
frontier  (Lewin,  Sill  Tracts,  74),  there  seems  to 
be  no  Indian  example  of  the  custom  of  mutilating 
the  corpses  of  enemies  to  prevent  them  from 
'  walking '  (though  Hosten,  679,  records,  without 
having  been  able  to  obtain  any  explanation  for  it, 
the  custom  of  the  Yakhas  of  British  Sikkim,  who, 
'  when  a  man  has  died,  split  open  his  hands  from 
the  middle  knuckles  to  the  wrist ').  Spirits  of  this 
description  of  the  malignant  dead  are  repelled  in 
various  ways.  Some  tribes  have  an  annual  ghost- 
hunt,  by  which  the  evil  spirits  are  scared  from  the 
house  and  village.  Guns  are  fired,  gongs  and  drums 
are  beaten,  and  rockets  are  exploded.  Dances  and 
other  revels,  in  which  the  rules  of  morality  are 
disregarded— indecency  being  a  mode  of  scaring 
evil  spirits — are  performed.  Sometimes  the  rite 
takes  the  form  of  a  mock  combat — one  band  of 
performers  representing  the  evil,  and  another  the 
friendly,  spirits ;  and  it  is  always  arranged  that 
the  latter  shall  be  victorious  (Lewin,  Wild  Maces, 
185).  Some  tribes  measure  the  corpse,  or  watch  it 
until  it  is  buried,  lest  it  may  be  occupied  by  an 
evil  spirit. 

The  devices  intended  to  prevent  the  return  of 
malignant  spirits  are  manifold.  In  some  cases  & 
cairn  is  raised  over  the  grave  (§  4  (d)),  or,  as  an 
additional  precaution,  the  excavation  is  filled  up 
with  stones  or  thorns-;  or,  as  among  many  of  the 
wilder  tribes,  the  body  is  buried  face  downwards — 
a  practice  adopted  by  the  Thugs.  In  Upper  India 
the  ghosts  of  menial  tribes,  such  as  sweepers,  are 
so  much  dreaded  that  riots  have  followed  an 
attempt  to  bury  their  dead  in  the  usual  way  with 
the  face  turned  to  the  sky.  Sometimes  the  grave 
is  enclosed  by  a  fence  too  high  for  the  ghost  to 
'take  it,'  particularly  without  a  'run.'  Such  an 
enclosure  has  the  additional  advantage  of  marking 
the  place  as  tabu,  and  was  the  origin  of  the  stone 
circles,  erected  round  cairns,  which  subsequently 
developed  into  the  artistic  railings  of  Buddhist 
stupas.  Another  common  method  is  to  deceive 
the  spirit  by  carrying  out  the  corpse  feet  foremost 
or  by  a  special  door,  so  that  it  may  be  unable  to 
find  its  way  back,  by  removing  the  house-ladder, 
or  by  forcing  the  bearers  to  carry  their  burden  at 
vol.  iv. — 31 


a  trot  and  to  change  places  on  the  road.  Special 
precautions  are  taken  not  to  name  the  dead,  at 
least  for  some  time  after  death,  lest  the  soul  may 
consider  it  an  invitation  to  return. 

4.  Methods  of  disposal  of  the  dead. — (a)  Canni- 
balism.— Of  that  most  archaic  method  of  disposal 
of  the  dead,  the  funeral  feast,  'when  the  meat 
is  nothing  less  than  the  corpse  of  the  departed 
kinsman'  (Hartland,  LP  ii.  278),  India  has  so  far 
supplied  no  clear  examples.  There  are,  however, 
cases  of  eating  the  aged  with  a  view  to  reproducing 
the  virtues  or  powers  of  the  departed,  as  among 
the  Lushais  of  Assam,  and  the  Chingpaws  and 
Was  of  Upper  Burma  (Lewin,  Hill  Tracts,  107 ; 
Gazetteer  Upper  Burma,  I.  i.  436,  496).  But  this 
custom  is  confined  to  the  most  isolated  and  savage 
tribes,  and  the  similar  tradition  recorded  by  Dalton 
(220  f.)  of  the  Birhors  of  Chota  Nagpur  is  probably 
quite  baseless — possibly  an  echo  of  a  story  told 
of  tribes  much  further  east. 

(6)  Dolmens  and  other  stone  monuments. — The 
earliest  form  of  corpse-disposal  of  which  physical 
evidence  exists  is  that  in  dolmens,  kistvaens,  and 
other  forms  of  stone  monuments,  of  which  India 
furnishes  numerous  examples.  Though  sporadic 
remains  of  such  structures  have  been  found  in 
many  parts  of  N.  India,  the  assertion  of  Fergusson 
(Buae  Stone  Monuments,  475  f.)  may  be  accepted 
as  generally  correct,  that  they  are  peculiar  to  the 
country  south  of  the  Vindhyan  Hills,  and  are  numer- 
ous in  the  country  drained  by  the  Godavari  and  its 
affluents,  and  in  particular  in  the  valley  of  the 
Kistna  and  its  tributaries,  on  both  sides  of  the 
Ghats,  through  Coimbatore  down  to  Cape  Comorin, 
and  especially  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Con- 
jeeveram.  The  most  complete  account  of  these 
stone  monuments  is  that  of  Breeks,  who  describes 
them  under  three  heads — cairns,  or  rather  mounds 
enclosed  by  a  stone  circle ;  barrows ;  and  kist- 
vaens. In  the  cairns  have  been  discovered  earthen 
jars  containing  fragments  of  burnt  bones,  and 
some  beautiful  bronze  vessels,  probably  imported 
from  Babylonia  or  some  other  foreign  country. 
Questions  connected  with  the  origin,  purpose,  and 
date  of  this  series  of  monuments  have  given  rise 
to  much  controversy.  The  fact  that  stone  circles, 
of  a  form  analogous  to  that  of  the  ancient  monu- 
ments, are  used  by  the  modern  Todas  has  led  to  the 
inference  that  the  members  of  this  tribe  are  the 
successors  of,  or  closely  allied  to,  the  old  circle- 
builders.  The  character  of  the  remains  discovered 
does  not,  as  a  rule,  suggest  a  date  earlier  than  the 
Iron  Age,  which,  if  the  analogy  of  Europe  be 
accepted  (though  there  are  no  materials  for  such 
a  comparison),  need  not  imply  a  date  earlier  than 
850-600  B.c.  But  V.  A.  Smith  (IGI,  new  ed., 
1908,  ii.  98)  supposes  that  the  Iron  Age  in  N. 
India  may  go  back  to  1500  or  even  2000  B.C.  The 
difficulty  of  fixing  an  approximate  date  for  these 
structures  largely  depends  upon  the  fact  that 
modern  tribes,  like  the  Kols  and  their  kinsfolk  in 
Chota  Nagpur,  as  well  as  the  Nagas  and  Khasis 
of  Assam,  still  erect  stone  monuments  of  a  type 
closely  resembling  the  pre-historic  examples.  The 
modern  funeral  monuments  of  the  Khasis  have 
been  fully  described  by  Gurdon  {The  Khasis,  144  ff. ), 
who  divides  them  into  three  classes — those  intended 
as  seats  for  the  souls  of  the  dead  while  their  bones 
are  being  conveyed  to  the  tribal  ossuaiy  ;  memorial 
stones  erected  in  honour  of  deceased  ancestors ; 
and  stones  which  mark  tanks  used  for  purifying 
the  mourners  from  the  death  tabu.  Many  monu- 
ments in  Madras  and  among  the  tribes  of  the  E. 
frontier  take  the  form  of  ossuaries,  into  which  the 
bones  are  removed  after  disinterment. 

(c)  Exposure  to  beasts  and  birds  of  prey. — Among 
other  modes  of  disposal  of  the  dead  the  most  crude 
is  that  of  exposure  of  the  remains  to  beasts  and 


482 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Indian,  non-Aryan) 


birds  of  prey.  This  custom  still  prevails  among 
the  Tibetans  and  certain  tribes  of  the  N.  frontier, 
where  it  probably  originated  from  the  difficulty  of 
providing  wood  for  cremation,  or  excavating  graves 
during  the  severe  winter  of  these  regions.  At  a 
later  period  it  was  re-introduced  from  Persia  by 
the  Parsis.  Among  the  non- Aryan  tribes  of  the 
Peninsula  this  method  is  occasionally  employed 
for  those  dying  in  a  state  of  tabu,  as  is  the  case 
with  the  Paharias  of  Bengal,  the  Nagas  of  Assam, 
and  some  menial  tribes  in  the  northern  plains 
(Dalton,  274 ;  JAI  xi.  203 ;  Rice,  Essays,  60 ; 
Crooke,  TC  ii.  92,  i.  7,  iii.  144). 

(d)  Cairn-burial. — The  idea  of  protecting  the 
corpse  from  violation,  and  the  desire  to  prevent 
the  ghost  from  '  walking,' account  for  cairn-inter- 
ment, which  was  used  by  the  early  tribes  of  S. 
India,  and  is  found  at  the  present  time  among  the 
BhUs  of  Bombay  (BG  xii.  87),  the  Kachins  of 
Upper  Burma  {Gazetteer  Upper  Burma,  I.  i.  393, 
409),  and  some  of  the  Assam  tribes  (Dalton,  9; 
Risley,  TC  ii.  112).  From  such  cairns  the  stupas 
of  the  Buddhists  have  been  developed. 

(e)  Cave-burial. — Cave- burial,  common  in  other 
regions  of  E.  and  S.  Asia,  does  not  seem  to  have 
prevailed  widely  in  India.  But  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  many  caves  have  been  occupied 
continuously  even  to  the  present  day,  and  thus 
the  evidence  may  have  become  obliterated,  and 
numbers  of  them  may  still  remain  unexplored.  In 
Malabar,  however,  sepulchral  chambers  excavated 
in  the  laterite  and  containing  clay  vessels  and  iron 
implements  have  been  discovered  ;  and  in  the  same 
class  are  the  pandu-kuli,  the  name  of  which  is 
based  on  the  absurd  belief  that  they  were  the 
abodes  of  the  Pandava  heroes  of  the  Mahdbharata 
(JAI  xxv.  371  f.  ;'  Thurston,  Notes,  148).  See  also 
the  account  of  cave-burials  in  'anterior  India,'  a 
region  not  capable  of  identification,  by  Nicolo 
Conti  (India  in  the  xvth  Cent.,  ed.  R.  H.  Major, 
Hakluyt  Soc,  1857). 

(/)  Mouse-burial. — Cave-burial  naturally  leads 
to  house-burial,  and  the  examples  of  this  practice 
are  abundant.  More  than  one  reason  probably  led 
to  the  adoption  of  the  custom — the  desire  to  retain 
the  corpse  in  the  house  in  the  hope  of  its  revival ; 
the  dread  lest  the  relics  might  be  used  for  purposes 
of  black  magic ;  or  the  hope  that  the  soul  of  the 
ancestor  thus  buried  might  be  re-incarnated  in 
the  person  of  some  female  member  of  the  family. 
This  last  belief  seems  to  be  most  general,  and  the 
custom,  sometimes  with  this  explanation,  has  been 
recorded  among  the  Andamanese  (JAI  xii.  141, 
144 ;  Temple,  Census  Report,  1901,  p.  65),  the 
Nagas  of  Assam  (JAI  xxvi.  200),  the  Was  and 
allied  Burman  tribes  (Scott,  Burma,  408),  and  some 
Madras  and  Panjab  tribes  (Thurston,  Notes,  155  ; 
PNQ  i.l2Z). 

(g)  Disposal  in  water. — The  custom  of  consigning 
the  dead  to  water  is  more  common.  Among  ortho- 
dox Hindus,  the  bones  and  ashes  after  cremation 
are  deposited  in  a  river  or  tank  at  some  sacred 
place.  Among  the  lower  tribes,  in  most  parts  of 
the  country,  the  corpse  is  often  flung  into  the 
nearest  river,  sometimes  after  a  perfunctory 
attempt  at  cremation  by  singeing  the  face  and 
beard.  It  has  been  suggested  that  this  method 
of  disposal  is  in  some  cases  based  upon  the  desire 
to  free  the  bones  rapidly  from  the  products  of 
decomposition,  and  thus  to  placate  the  spirit ;  but 
more  usually  the  intention  is  simply  to  get  rid  as 
quickly  as  possible  .of  the  corpse  and  the  tabu 
which  emanates  from  it.  Hence  it  is  frequently 
adopted  in  the  case  of  those  dying  in  a  state  of 
special  tabu,  as,  for  instance,  those  perishing  from 
epidemic  disease  ;  and  the  bodies  of  sannyasis  and 
other  holy  men  are  frequently  consigned  to  running 
water.     Sometimes,  again,  the  rite  is  in  the  nature 


of  sympathetic  magic,  as  when  in  Bengal  those 
dying  of  leprosy,  on  the  principle  of  water  to  water, 
are  flung  into  the  Ganges  (Asiat.  Res.  iv.  69 ; 
Buchanan,  E.  India,  i.  114). 

(h)  Tree-burial. — The  practice  of  tree-burial  in 
India  seems  to  depend  partly  on  the  desire  to 
placate  the  spirit  by  saving  the  remains  from  the 
attacks  of  wild  animals,  and  partly  on  the  fact 
that  the  tree  is  the  haunt  of  spirits.  It  is  found 
among  the  Andamanese,  Nagas,  and  Mariya  Gonds 
(JAI  xii.  144 f.,  xi.  205,  xxvi.  199;  Dalton,  43; 
Census  Report  Assam,  1891,  i.  246  ;  Hislop,  App. 
xiii.).  Among  the  Khasis  of  Assam  the  corpse  is 
placed  in  a  hollow  tree,  and  the  next  development 
is  the  use  of  a  tree-trunk  as  a  coffin,  as  among  the 
Nagas  and  Karennis  of  Burma  (Dalton,  56 ;  Gazetteer 
Upper  Burma,  I.  i.  528  ;  JAI  xxvi.  199). 

(i)  Platform-burial.— This  rite  further  develops 
into  the  custom  of  platform-burial,  which  prevails 
among  the  Andamanese  and  some  tribes  on  the 
E.  frontier  (JAI  xii.  144 ;  Census  Report  Anda- 
mans,  1901,  65  ;  Lewin,  Sill  Tracts,  109).  Among 
the  E.  tribes  the  custom  of  smoking  the  corpse  is 
frequently  combined  with  this. 

(j)  Jar-burial. — Jar-burial,  in  the  sense  that  the 
corpse  is  deposited  in  an  earthenware  vessel,  does 
not  appear  to  prevail  at  present  among  the  non- 
Aryan  tribes ;  but  instances  of  corpses  placed  in 
large  mortuary  jars  have  been  discovered  in  pre- 
historic S.  Indian  interments  (JAI  xxv.  374)  ;  and 
some  of  these  terra-cotta  coffins  closely  resemble 
those  found  in  Babylonia.  At  present,  among^most 
tribes  which  practise  cremation,  the  ashes  and 
bones  are  deposited  in  an  earthen  jar  before  burial 
or  consignment  to  water. 

(k)  Contracted  burials. — Besides  the  ordinary 
mode  of  burial  in  a  recumbent  posture,  there  are 
other  methods  which  deserve  special  mention. 
First  comes  what  is  known  as  contracted  burial, 
when  the  corpse  is  interred  with  the  knees  closely 
pressed  against  the  breast.  The  tribal  distribu- 
tion of  this  practice  does  not  throw  much  light 
upon  its  origin  or  significance.  It  is  found  among 
some  of  the  more  savage  tribes,  such  as  the 
Andamanese  and  the  Pen  tribe  in  Car  Nicobar 
(JAI  xii.  141,  144  ;  PNQ  iv.  66) ;  and  among  the 
Lushais  and  Kukis  of  the  E.  frontier  (Lewin,  Bill 
Tracts,  109,  Wild  Races,  246).  Among  such  people 
it  has  been  suggested  that  it  represents  an  attempt 
to  prevent  the  ghost  from  '  walking ' ;  and  in  some 
cases,  among  various  races,  the  thumbs  and  toes 
of  the  dead  are  bound,  apparently  with  this  inten- 
tion. Another  theory  is  that  it  symbolizes  the  pre- 
natal position  of  the  child  in  its  mother's  womb. 
In  some  instances  it  may  be  due  to  the  practical 
difficulty  of  digging  a  grave  of  the  shape  and  size 
in  which  the  body  may  rest  in  a  recumbent  posture  ; 
in  others  it  may  represent  the  position  of  a  savage 
sleeping  beside  a  camp  fire.  It  has  been  adopted 
by  some  of  the  religious  orders,  like  the  sannyasis 
of  N.  India  and  the  Shenvl  Brahmans  and  Lin- 
gayats  of  the  jouth.  Here  it  probably  represents 
the  posture  of  the  guru  engaged  in  meditation, 
or  lecturing  to  his  pupils,  because  some  of  these 
sects  place  the  bodies  of  their  gurus  in  this  posture 
after  death,  and  worship  them  (BG  XV.  i.  149). 

(I)  SJielf-  or  niche-burial. — Shelf-  or  niche-burial, 
in  which  the  corpse  is  deposited  in  a  chamber  or 
cavity  excavated  in  the  side  of  the  perpendicular 
entrance  to  the  grave,  seems  to  be  based  on  the 
intention  of  preventing  the  incumbent  earth  from 
resting  upon  the  corpse  and  thus  incommoding  the 
spirit— a  feeling  which  prevails  among  some  wild 
tribes,  like  the  Miris  of  Assam  (Dalton,  34).  It  is 
found  among  some  of  the  E.  and  S.  tribes,  like  the 
Kaupuls  of  Manipur  and  the  Paniyans  of  Malabar 
(JAI xvi.  355f. ;  Thurston,  Notes,  144);  it  has  been 
adopted  by  some  religious  or  semi-religious  oiuers, 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Indian,  non-Aryan) 


483 


like  the  Jugis  of  Bengal,  and  the  Ravals  or  Linga- 
yats  (Risley,  TC  i.  359  ;  Crooke,  TO  iii.  19  ;  BG 
XVIII.  i.  361)  ;  and  it  is  the  orthodox  method 
among  Muhammadans,  who  place  the  corpse  in 
a  niche  (lahd)  high  enough  to  allow  the  spirit  to 
rise  when  the  dread  angels,  Munkar  and  Naklr, 
come  to  inteiTogate  it  regarding  its  belief  in  the 
Prophet  and  his  religion. 

(m)  Concealed  burial. — Concealed  burial  and 
the  obliteration  of  all  marks  of  the  grave  appear 
generally  to  be  due  to  a  desire  to  get  rid  of  the  spirit. 
It  is  found  among  the  wilder  tribes  in  Madras  and 
Burma  (Oppert,  199  ;  Scott,  Burma,  408). 

5.  Disinterment  of  the  remains. — The  practice 
of  disinterment  of  the  remains  after  decomposition 
has  ceased  probably  rests  upon  the  belief  that  the 
soul  is  immanent  in  the  bones.  The  Andamanese 
and  the  Nicobarese  disinter  their  dead,  wash  the 
bones,  and,  after  wrapping  them  in  cloth  or  leaves, 
re-bury  them,  or  fling  them  into  the  jungle,  or 
sink  them  in  the  sea  (JAI  xxxii.  209,  219  f.,  xii. 
143,  iv.  465,  xi.  295  f . ).  Among  the  Khasis  of  Assam 
those  who  die  from  infectious  disease  are  buried, 
the  remains  being  dug  up  and  cremated  when 
danger  from  infection  is  over  (Gurdon,  137).  This 
custom  leads,  among  some  tribes,  to  the  provision 
of  ossuaries  in  which  the  dry  bones  are  stored. 
Such  structures  are  found  in  E.  and  S.  India  (JAI 
v.  40,  vii.  21  ft".).  The  same  belief  in  the  con- 
tinued, though  mysterious,  oneness  of  the  body 
with  its  severed  parts  leads  to  the  formation  of 
tribal  cemeteries,  to  which,  often  from  long  dis- 
tances, as  among  the  Chinbons  of  Upper  Burma  and 
some  tribes  in  the  central  hills,  the  bones  of  tribes- 
men are  removed  (Gazetteer  Upper  Burma,  I.  i.  467 ; 
Dalton,  34,  262). 

6.  Immediate  and  deferred  burial. — In  most 
cases  climatic  conditions  necessitate  the  immedi- 
ate disposal  of  the  remains  by  cremation  or  burial. 
The  custom  of  deferred  burial,  in  which  the  re- 
mains are  retained  in  the  house  to  enable  friends 
from  a  distance  to  pay  their  last  tribute  of  respect 
to  the  dead,  is  less  common,  and  is  found  chiefly 
among  the  E.  tribes  like  the  Khasis,  Nagas,  or 
Lushais  (Gurdon,  138  ;  JAI  xxvi.  195  ;  Lewin, 
Hill  Tracts,  109). 

7.  Embalming  the  dead. — Customs  of  this  kind 
naturally  develop  into  the  practice  of  embalming 
the  dead,  which  is  not  common  in  India.  In  the 
form  of  preservation  of  the  remains  in  honey  or  by 
smoking  them  over  a  slow  fire,  it  is  found  only 
among  some  of  the  E.  and  Burmese  tribes  (Hooker, 
Himalayan  Journals,  ed.  London,  1891,  486  f.  ; 
Shway  Yoe  [Scott],  The  Burman,  ii.  330  f.). 

8.  Inhumation  and  cremation. — The  methods  of 
disposal  of  the  dead  which  have  been  considered 
hitherto  are  all  more  or  less  abnormal.  The 
modes  now  generally  adopted  are  either  simple 
burial  in  a  recumbent  position  or  cremation.  We 
may,  perhaps,  in  consideration  of  the  Indian  evi- 
dence, assume  that  the  most  primitive  form  was 
exposure  of  the  corpse,  followed  by  inhumation, 
and  then  by  cremation.  It  has  often  been  asserted 
that  cremation  was  specially  an  Aryan  prac- 
tice ;  but  the  evidence  from  S.  India  monuments 
indicates  that  possibly  it  was  only  in  the  case  of 
persons  of  rank  that  cremation  prevailed  (cf.  art. 
Aryan  Religion  in  vol.  ii.  p.  16).  At  the  same 
time,  the  facts  at  our  disposal  do  not  enable  us 
definitely  to  decide  why  cremation  displaced  in- 
humation. Among  the  Aryans,  as  Ridgeway 
argues  (Early  Age  of  Greece,  Cambridge,  1901,  1. 
ch.  vii. ),  the  idea  that  fire  was  the  only  medium  by 
which  sacrifice  could  reach  the  gods  may  have  led 
to  the  introduction  of  the  process  of  cremation 
after  the  belief  in  an  abode  in  the  sky  where  the 
soul  joined  the  pitri,  or  sainted  dead,  had  become 
finally  established  ;  and,  if  it  arose,  as  he  argues 


(ib.  i.  539  f.),  in  a  forest  country,  where  the  hut 
was  consumed  with  the  corpse  to  avoid  tabu, 
there  seems  no  reason  why  it  may  not  have  been 
independently  discovered  by  the  non-Aryan  tribes. 

At  present  it  is  only  the  most  primitive  non- 
Aryan  tribes  and  some  ascetic  orders  who  still 
maintain  the  practice  of  earth-burial.  On  the 
other  hand,  many  tribes  in  a  low  state  of  culture 
who  now  cremate  their  dead  may  have  adopted 
the  practice  under  Hindu  influence.  No  literary 
evidence  exists  by  which  the  historical  develop- 
ment of  these  customs  can  be  traced.  The  transi- 
tion, however,  between  the  two  forms  of  disposal 
is  in  many  instances  clearly  indicated.  For  ex- 
ample, among  some  tribes  the  ordinary  dead  are 
buried,  while  those  under  tabu  are  cremated  ;  or 
the  rich  are  cremated,  while  the  poor  are  buried  ; 
or  the  question  which  mode  is  to  be  adopted 
depends  upon  the  season  of  the  year  in  which 
the  death  occurs.  Among  some  tribes  we  find 
more  than  one  method  in  use.  One  clan  of  the 
Nagas  combines  platform-burial  with  cremation, 
placing  the  dead  in  open  coffins  raised  several  feet 
above  ground,  whence  the  remains  are  subse- 
quently removed  and  burned  close  by  (JAI  xi. 
213).  The  Karnis  of  Bengal  burn,  bury,  or  fling  the 
corpse  into  water,  as  may  be  convenient  at  the 
time  (Risley,  i.  395).  The  Haburas  of  the  United 
Provinces  either  cremate  or  expose  their  dead  in  the 
jungle,  as  best  suits  their  nomadic  habits  (Crooke, 
TC  ii.  476).  The  widest  variety  of  practice  appears 
among  the  Nagas,  who  bury,  expose  on  a  platform 
or  in  a  tree,  and  sometimes  cremate  the  corpse 
after  placing  it  on  a  platform  (JAI  xi.  203,  213  ; 
Hodson,  146  ff.).  After  cremation  the  bones  and 
ashes  are  usually  deposited  in  a  river  or  tank,  the 
vessel  while  in  process  of  removal  to  the  sacred 
place  being  hung  in  a  tree  so  that  the  spirit,  when 
so  disposed,  may  revisit  the  bones. 

9.  The  death-tabu. — As  among  all  races  in  the 
same  grade  of  culture,  the  infective  tabu  arising 
from  the  corpse  is  specially  dreaded.  All  who 
come  in  contact  with  the  dead  are  considered  to 
be  infected.  The  corpse-bearers,  for  instance,  as 
among  the  tribes  of  the  central  hill  tract,  have 
their  shoulders  rubbed  with  oil,  milk,  and  cow- 
dung  by  the  women  of  the  mourning  family,  while 
they  are  sprinkled  with  cow's  urine  from  twigs  of 
the  sacred  Nim  tree  (Melia  azadirachta).  The  dread 
of  the  death-tabu  appears  throughout  the  rites  of 
mourning.  Thus,  among  some  tribes  a  special 
dress  is  provided  for  the  chief  mourners,  the 
intention  possibly  being  in  some  cases  to  disguise 
the  mourner  from  the  ghost.  With  the  same 
object  the  Andamanese  smear  their  heads  with 
clay  (Temple,  Census  Report,  1901,  p.  65).  As  the 
tabu  infects  the  house,  no  cooking  can  be  done 
there,  and  the  mourners  either  fast  or  receive  sup- 
plies of  food  from  relatives  or  friends.  Persons, 
again,  when  exposed  to  the  death-tabu,  are  not 
allowed  to  leave  the  house  or  village,  lest  they  may 
infect  the  neighbourhood.  This  form  of  tabu  is 
specially  observed  by  the  E.  tribes,  like  the  Nagas 
of  Assam  and  the  hill  races  of  Arakan  (JAI  xi. 
71,  xxvi.  191,  ii.  240;  Hodson,  173  f.).  Tabu  is 
also  marked  by  the  rule  that  mourners  sleep  on  the 
ground  :  partly  because,  if  beds  are  used  during 
this  period,  they  too  become  infected ;  partly  be- 
cause spirits  cannot  touch  Mother  Earth.  The 
continence  enforced  upon  mourners  is  probably, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  sacred  dairyman  of  the 
Todas  (Rivers,  100  f.),  a  precaution  against  the 
dissipation  of  physical  energy,  all  of  which  is 
needed  during  this  critical  period.  By  an  ex 
tension  of  the  principles  of  tabu,  if  the  death-rites 
have  been,  by  a  misconception,  performed  for  a 
person  who  subsequently  returns,  he  is  tabu,  be- 
cause the  powers  of  the  other  world  seem  to  have 


484 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Jain) 


rejected  him  as  unworthy.  The  period  of  tabu 
varies  among  the  different  tribes,  and  seems  usually 
to  depend  on  the  time  during  which,  before  the 
completion  of  the  funeral  rites,  the  spirit  is  sup- 
posed to  haunt  the  neighbourhood  of  the  place  of 
death  or  the  grave. 

10.  Purification  from  the  death-tabu. — Purifica- 
tion from  tabu  is  effected  in  various  ways.  One 
method  is  that  adopted  by  the  Andamanese  and 
Gonds,  who  quit  the  house  of  death  or  burn  it, 
along  with  some  or  all  of  the  effects  of  the  dead 
man  (JAI  xii.  142  ;  Hislop,  19).  But  generally 
there  is  a  special  rite  of  purification.  This  usually 
consists  in  ablution,  by  which  the  clinging  spirit 
or  tabu  is  washed  from  the  body  of  the  mourner. 
Sometimes  special  substances,  usually  the  products 
of  the  sacred  cow,  are  used  for  this  purpose.  With 
the  same  object  many  touch  fire  on  their  return 
from  the  funeral,  or  pass  their  feet,  which  natu- 
rally are  supposed  to  be  specially  liable  to  infec- 
tion, through  the  smoke  of  burning  oil.  In  other 
cases  the  tabu  is  removed  by  transferring  it,  and, 
by  a  later  conception,  the  sins  of  the  dead  man,  to 
a  scape-animal.  In  its  clearest  form  the  rite  ap- 
pears among  the  Badagas  of  Madras  (Gover,  Folk- 
Songs  of  S.  India,  London,  1872,  p.  71  ;  Thurston, 
Notes,  195  f.).  Traces  are  also  found  of  the  re- 
markable custom  of  'sin-eating,'  by  which  the  sins 
of  the  dead  are  transferred  to  a  Brahman  who 
eats  food  in  the  house  of  death,  or  even,  as  used 
to  he  the  habit  at  Tanjore,  eats  the  bones  of  the 
dead  Raja  ground  up  and  mixed  with  rice  (Dubois, 
Manners  and  Customs3,  1906,  p.  366). 

Lastly,  the  custom  of  shaving  the  mourner  may 
be  mentioned.  The  idea  seems  to  be  to  get  rid 
of  the  death-infection  clinging  to  the  hair,  which, 
possibly  with  the  same  intention,  is  often  let  loose 
in  mourning,  as  is  the  case  with  other  persons 
under  tabu,  like  the  ascetic  classes  (Madras 
Museum  Bulletin,  iii.  251  f . ).  The  hair  is  sometimes 
dedicated  to  the  dead,  as  in  the  Deccan  and  along 
the  lower  Himalaya  (BG  XVIII.  i.  364, 149  ;  NINQ 
iii.  117),  the  intention  being  to  strengthen  the 
feeble  spirit  of  the  deceased  by  dedicating  that 
portion  of  the  human  organism  which,  by  its 
growth,  furnishes  the  strongest  proof  of  vitality 
(Frazer,  GB,  pt.  i.  [1911],  'The  Magic  Art  and  the 
Evolution  of  Kings,'  i.  3l,  102).  More  usually  the 
hair  is  shaven  after  the  mourning  period  begins, 
or  at  its  close.  The  shaving  is  usually  confined  to 
the  immediate  relatives  or  kinsmen  ;  hut  in  some 
cases  the  whole  population  shave  their  heads  and 
beards  on  the  death  of  a  Raja,  e.g.  in  Kashmir  and 
other  parts  of  the  Himalaya  {NINQ  iv.  18,  98  ; 
Drew,  Jummoo,  54). 

Literature. — For  pre-historic  interments,  see  J.  Fergnasson, 
Rude  Stone  Monuments,  1872 ;  R.  B.  Foote,  Catal.  of  the 
Prehist.  Antiq.  Madras  Museum,  1901 ;  J.  Breeks,  Account  of 
the  Prim.  Tribes  and  Monum.  of  the  Nilaghiris,  1873.  For 
Buddhist  and  early  Hindu  remains  :  A.  Cunningham,  Archoeol. 
Sum.  Reports,  1862-84,  The  Bhilsa  Topes,  1854,  The  Stupa  of 
Bharhut,  1879,  Mahdbodhi,  1892.  For  the  South  Indian 
tribes :  E.  Thurston,  Castes  and  Tribes  of  Southern  India, 
1909,  Ethnogr.  Notes  in  S.  India,  1906,  Madras  Museum 
Bulletins,  passim,  1896-1909  ;  G.  Richter,  Manual  of  Coorg, 
1870  ;  F.  Buchanan,  Journey  through  the  Countries  of  Mysore, 
Canara,  and  Malabar,  1807  ;  J.  A.  Dubois,  Description  of  the 
People  of  IndiaS,  1906 ;  G.  Oppert,  Original  Inhabitants  of 
India,  1893 ;  S.  P.  Rice,  Occasional  Essays,  1901 ;  W.  H.  R. 
Rivers,  The  Todas,  1906.  For  the  Eastern  tribes:  P.  R.  T. 
Gurdon,  The  Ehasis,  1907  ;  T.  C.  Hodson,  The  Meitheis,  1908, 
The  Ndga  Tribes  of  Manipur,  1911 ;  A.  Playfair,  The  Garos, 
1909 ;  E.  Stack,  The  Mikirs,  1908 ;  T.  H.  Lewin,  Hill  Tracts  of 
Chittagong,  1869,  Wild  Races  of  South-east  India,  1870  ;  E.  T. 
Dalton,  Descript.  Ethnol.  of  Bengal,  1S72.  For  Andamanese  and 
Nicobarese  :  Sir  R.  C.  Temple,  Census  Report,  1901 ;  E.  H. 
Man,  JAI  xii.  (1882;,  xiv.  (1884).  For  northern  plains  :  H.  H. 
Risley,  Tribes  and  Castes  of  Bengal,  1891 ;  W.  Crooke,  Tribes 
and  Castes  of  the  N.  W.  Provinces  and  Oudh,  1896  ;  PNQ, 
1883-87,  and  NINQ,  1891-96,  passim  ;  F.  Buchanan,  Eastern 
India,  ed.  M.  Martin,  1838.  For  Bombay  and  Central  India : 
BG,  passim ;  S.  Hislop,  Papers  relating  to  the  Aboriginal 
Tribes  of  the  Central  Provinces,  1866.  For  the  northern  hills  : 
E.    T.    Atkinson,    Himalayan    Gazetteer,   1882-J34,   passim ; 


J.  Biddulph,  Tribes  of  the  Hindoo  Koosh,  1880;  F.  Drew, 
Jummoo  and  Kashmir  Territories,  1875.  For  Burma  :  British 
Burma  Gazetteer,  1880,  passim  ;  Sir  J.  G.  Scott  (Shway  Yoe), 
Gazetteer  Upper  Burma,  1900-1,  passim,  also  Burma  as  it  was, 
as  it  is,  and  as  it  will  be,  1886,  and  The  Burman,  1882  ;  A.  R. 
McMahon,  The  Karens  of  the  Golden  Chersonese,  1876. 

W.  Crooke. 
DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 

(Jain). — The  Jains  agree,  on  the  whole,  with  the 
Brahmans  in  their  notions  on  death.  The  soul  of 
every  living  being — the  highest  gods  included — 
must  be  re- born  as  long  as  it  possesses  Icarma,  i.e. 
merit  or  demerit  ;  but,  when  the  Icarma  has  been 
annihilated,  then  the  soul,  on  death,  will  enter  on 
its  innate  state  of  purity,  and  will  be  released  for 
ever  from  the  cycle  of  births.  But  on  some  points 
the  Jains  have  developed  peculiar  notions. 

1.  Re-incarnation  and  liberation  of  the  soul. — 
According  to  the  Jains,  karma,  the  effect  produced 
on  the  soul  by  its  deeds  during  life,  consists  of 
extremely  subtle  matter,  which  pours  or  infiltrates 
into  the  soul  when  worldly  actions  make,  as  it 
were,  an  opening  into  it  (asrava).  This  karma- 
matter,  as  we  may  call  it,  fills  the  soul  as  sand 
fills  a  bag,  and  acts  on  it  like  a  weight.  The  soul 
by  itself  has  an  upward  gravity  (urdhvagurutva), 
and  is  kept  down,  during  its  worldly  state,  by  the 
famna-matter,  which,  like  all  matter,  has  a  down- 
ward gravity  (adhogurutva).  Therefore,  if  cleansed 
of  all  karma,  the  soul,  on  leaving  the  body,  will 
rise  in  a  straight  line  to  the  top  of  the  universe, 
where  the  liberated  souls  reside  for  ever  (see  above, 
p.  160b,  '  Jain  cosmography ') — just  as  a  pump- 
kin coated  with  clay  sinks  to  the  bottom  of  a  tank, 
but  rises  to  the  surface  of  the  water  when  the  clay 
has  fallen  off.  But,  if  the  soul  is  burdened  with 
karma,  it  will,  on  leaving  the  body,  move  in  any 
direction — upwards,  sideways,  or  downwards.  It 
does  not  travel  in  a  straight  line,  but  in  a  broken 
line,  with  one,  two,  or  three  angles  or  turns,  and 
thus  gets,  in  two,  three,  or  four  movements,  to  the 
place  where  it  is  to  be  re-incarnated.  There  it 
attracts  gross  matter,  in  order  to  build  up  a  new 
body  according  to  its  karma.1 

2.  Voluntary  death  or  euthanasia. — It  is  a  well- 
known  fact  that  religious  suicide  is  occasionally 
committed  by  the  Hindus :  under  a  vow  to  some 
deity  they  starve  themselves  to  death,  eat  poison, 
drown  themselves,  enter  fire,  throw  themselves 
down  a  precipice,  etc.  The  Jains  condemn  such 
practices  as  an  'unwise  death'  (bdlamarana),  and 
recommend,  instead,  a  'wise  death'  (pandita- 
marana),  as  provided  in  their  sacred  books. 

Two  cases  must  be  distinguished  :  religious 
suicide  may  be  resorted  to  in  case  of  an  emergency, 
or  it  forms  the  end  of  a  regular  religious  career ; 
both  cases  apply  to  laymen  as  well  as  to  monks. 

(1)  If  a  Jam  contracts  a  mortal  disease,  or  is 
otherwise  in  danger  of  certain  death,  he  may  have 
recourse  to  self-starvation.  This  practice  is  fre- 
quently mentioned  in  Jain  narratives,  and  prevails, 
no  doubt,  even  at  the  present  day.  If  a  monk  is 
unable  to  follow  the  rules  of  his  order,  or  cannot 
any  longer  sustain  the  prescribed  austerities,  he 
should  rather  commit  suicide  than  break  the  rules. 
A  particular  case  seems  to  be  the  following.  When 
a  monk  falls  sick,  and  foresees  that  he  will  not  be 
able  to  go  through  the  '  ultimate  self-mortification ' 
to  be  noticed  hereafter,  he  may  keep  a  long  fast. 
If  he  gets  well  in  the  meantime,  he  is  to  return  to 
his  former  life.  But,  if  he  should  not  recover,  but 
die,  it  is  all  for  the  best.  This  conditional  self- 
starvation  is  called  itvara.2 

(2)  A  pious  layman  may  go  through  a  regular 
course  of  religious  life,  the  phases  of  which  are  the 
eleven  '  standards '  (pratimd)  ;  the  first  is  to  be 
observed  for  one  month,  the  second  for  two  months, 

1  Umasvati's  Tattvarthddhigama  Sutra,  ii.  26-36  (tr.  ZDMG 
lx.  [1906]  304  fl.) 

2  SBExxM.  72,  note  3. 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Japanese) 


485 


and  so  on.1  In  the  last  standard,  which  he  must 
observe  for  eleven  months,  he  becomes  practically 
a  monk.  At  the  end  of  this  period  he  abstains 
from  all  food  and  devotes  himself  to  '  self-mortifica- 
tion2 by  the  last  emaceration,'  patiently  awaiting 
his  death,  which  will  occur  within  a  month. 

In  the  case  of  a  monk,  the  'self- mortification' 
lasts  twelve  years,  instead  of  twelve  months.  If  a 
monk  believes  himself  purified  to  such  a  degree 
that  he  may  enter  upon  this  last  mortification  of 
the  flesh,  then  he  should  apply  to  his  guru,  or 
spiritual  master,  who  will  test  him  in  various  ways 
before  he  gives  him  his  permission.  Then,  for  a 
period  of  twelve  years,  the  monk  has  to  exert  him- 
self by  every  means  to  overcome  all  passions, 
worldly  feelings,  desires,  etc.,  and  to  annihilate 
his  karma  by  austerities — trying,  however,  to  ward 
off  a  premature  death.  At  the  end  of  this  period 
he  should  abstain  from  all  food  till  his  soul  parts 
from  the  body.  There  are  three  different  methods 
by  which  this  end  is  brought  about  ;  they  are 
called  bhaktapratyakhyanamarana,  ihgitamarana, 
and  padapopagamana 3 — of  which  the  last  two  are 
distinguished  by  the  restriction  of  the  movement 
of  the  person,  and  the  motion  of  his  limbs. 

The  rules  for  religious  suicide  form  the  subject 
of  three  canonical  books — Chausarana,  Aurapach- 
chakkhana,  and  Bhattaparinna. 

Literature. — This  has  been  sufficiently  indicated  in  the 
article.  H.  JACOBI. 

DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 
(Japanese). — I.  GENERAL* — The  oldest  traditions 
respecting  burial  speak  of  a  moya  {'  hut '),  in  which 
the  body  of  the  deceased  was  kept,  often  for  a  very 
long  time  (e.g.  that  of  Jimmu  Tenno  is  said  to  have 
been  kept  for  19  months  in  the  moya)  ;  of  religious 
dances  and  music  ;  of  an  eulogy  or  elegy  (shinubi- 
kotoba)  pronounced  by  the  head  of  the  family  ; 
and  of  a  funeral  feast  or  wake.  They  also  tell  of 
the  practice  of  the  self  -  immolation  of  wives, 
retainers,  and  servants  at  the  grave  of  a  husband 
or  master.  The  advent  of  Buddhism  in  the  6th 
cent.  A.D.  brought  in  certain  limitations  and 
modifications.  Cremation  was  introduced  in  A.D. 
703  ;  from  that  date  to  1644  all  the  Emperors  were 
cremated.  Funeral  regulations  concerning,  e.g., 
periods  of  mourning,  etc.,  have  existed  since  the 
10th  cent.  ;  the  self-immolation  of  retainers  began 
to  lose  favour  in  the  14th  cent.,  and  was  prohibited 
by  Iyeyasu,  though  it  still  continued  sporadically 
for  some  time.  During  the  whole  of  the  Tokugawa 
period  only  members  of  the  Imperial  House  were 
buried  with  Shinto  rites,  and  even  the  present 
forms  of  Shinto  funerals  date  from  the  same 
period. 

We  will  suppose  the  patient  to  have  been  given 
ud  by  his  medical  attendant.  Relatives  and 
friends  stand  around  his  bed,  watching  his  last 
struggles.  Some  of  them  moisten  his  lips  with 
drops  of  water  conveyed  on  a  feather  (matsugo  no 
mizu,  'water  of  the  last  moment'),  others  gently 
rub  his  eyelids  and  lips  with  their  hands,  so  that 
mouth  and  eyes  may  keep  shut  the  more  readily 
after  death  has  taken  place.  In  the  province  of 
Iyo,  in  Shikoku  (a  district  in  which  there  are  many 
quaint  survivals),  efforts  are  sometimes  made  to 
retain  the  dying  soul,  especially  when  there  still 
remains  some  communication  to  be  made  by  or  to 
the  man  at  the  point  of  death.     Three  men  climb 

1  Hoernle,  Uvdsaga  Dasao  (Bibl.  Ind.),  1S90,  tr.  p.  44  f., 
Vivarana.' 

2  Hoernle,  op.  tit.  p.  47. 

3  Prakrit  pdovagamana,  for  which  the  correct  Sanskrit  is 
prdyopagamana  (see  SBE  xxii.  74  ff.). 

4  The  present  writer  is  under  great  obligation  to  Dr.  Ohrt,  of 
the  German  Embassy  in  Tokyo,  for  permission  to  consult 
the  MS  of  two  lectures  delivered  before  the  Deutsche  Gesell- 
schaft  fur  Natur-  und  Volkerkunde  Oatasiens  in  Tokyo,  during 
the  winter  of  1909-10. 


to  the  roof  of  the  house,  sit  astride  on  the  roof-ridge, 
and  cry  aloud  :  '  Come  back,  So  and  So,  come  back 
once  more.'  Nobody  inside  the  house  is  supposed 
to  have  heard  the  cry,  but  the  dying  man  will 
revive  for  a  little,  and  his  spirit  will  linger  for  an 
hour  or  two  before  taking  its  final  departure. 

After  death,  the  corpse,  which  is  washed  by  all 
Buddhist  sects,  but  not  universally  by  the  Shinto 
(some  sects  apparently  being  contented  with  rub- 
bing with  a  wet  cloth),  is  laid  out,  with  its  face 
covered  with  a  piece  of  white  cotton  or  silk,  and 
placed  on  a  mat  in  some  suitable  place,  very  often 
in  front  of  the  toko-no-ma  ('alcove'),  in  the  best 
sitting-room.  The  corpse  lies  with  its  head  to  the 
north  (as  did  that  of  Buddha),  either  on  its  back 
(Buddhist)  or  facing  the  west.  At  its  head  is 
placed  a  mirror,  and  a  sword  for  protection  (the 
latter  especially  in  the  case  of  a  samurai).  Bound 
the  corpse  is  a  screen.  Outside  the  screen  is  an 
eight-legged  table  (Shinto)  with  offerings  of  washed 
rice,  fresh  water,  salt,  fish,  and  a  tamashiro,1  etc. 
In  Buddhist  houses  there  is  no  necessity  for 
the  table  to  have  exactly  eight  legs,  but  the 
offerings  are  so  placed  that  the  deceased  may  be 
able  to  see  them.  On  the  Buddhist  table  stands 
an  ihai,  or  tablet,  inscribed  with  the  posthumous 
name  of  the  deceased,  offerings  of  vegetable  foods 
(kumotsu),  and,  in  a  vase,  a  single  branch  of  shikimi 
(Chinese  anise).  The  single  branch  or  stem  is  so 
specially  associated  with  funerals  that  on  other 
occasions  a  Japanese  housewife  will  not  use  a 
single  branch  for  room-decoration. 

Both  in  Shinto  and  in  Buddhism  a  kind  of  fiction 
is  kept  up,  during  the  days  intervening  between 
death  and  burial,  that  the  spirit  is  still  present 
with  the  body.  Meals  are  brought  at  stated 
intervals,  the  corpse  is  sometimes  rolled  from  side 
to  side,  under  pretence  of  giving  it  ease  in  lying, 
and  conversation  is  kept  up  with  it  as  though  it 
were  still  alive. 

The  corpse  is  dressed,  in  Shinto,  in  (1)  a  tafusagi, 
a  kind  of  apron  tied  round  the  waist ;  (2)  a  hadagi, 
or  shirt,  reaching  down  to  the  knees ;  (3  and  4) 
a  shitagi  and  an  uwagi,  a  lower  and  an  upper  gar- 
ment, corresponding  to  the  kami-shimo  (lit.  '  upper 
and  lower ')  of  ancient  Japanese  dress ;  (5)  an  obi, 
or  belt ;  and  (6)  shitagutsu,  or  shoes.  A  corpse  is 
never  dressed  in  ceremonial  clothes  or  uniform. 
These  are  placed  in  the  coffin  later.  In  Buddhist 
houses  the  garments  are  very  much  the  same, 
only  that  a  distinction  is  made  between  winter 
and  summer  garments,  which  may  be  either  of 
white  cotton  or  of  silk  (a  further  development 
of  the  fiction  of  the  continued  presence  of  the 
spirit  in  the  body).  But  the  garments  are  put  on 
inside  out,  with  the  seams  showing,  and  they  are 
worn  hidarimce,  folded  to  the  left,  instead  of  to 
the  right,  as  in  life.  At  different  parts  of  the  gar- 
ments are  stitched  th»  formulae  Namu  Amida  Butsu 
('Glory  to  Amida  the  Buddha'),  or  Namu  myo  ho 
rengekyo  ( '  Glory  to  the  Mystic  Scripture  of  the 
Lotus  of  the  True  Law'),  which  are  said   to  be 

1  The  tamashiro  is  a  wooden  tablet,  just  like  the  Buddhist 
ihai,  except  that  it  contains  the  actual  name  of  the  deceased, 
and  not  the  kaimyo  ('posthumous  name')-  When  the  sick 
person  is  about  to  draw  his  last  breath,  the  head  of  the  family, 
or  the  person  whose  duty  it  will  be  to  perform  the  funeral  cere- 
monies (moshu),  washes  his  hands,  changes  his  clothes,  places 
the  tablet  on  a  low  table  by  the  bedside,  and  then,  taking  it  up 
again,  carries  it  to  the  sickbed,  and  there  respectfully  writes  on 
it  the  sick  man's  name.  Then,  addressing  the  dying  man,  he 
announces  to  him  that  the  tamashiro  has  been  prepared  as  a 
place  of  residence  for  his  spirit :  '  With  all  respect  I  address 
thee.  Suffer  thy  excellent  spirit  to  remain  in  this  tablet,  and 
accept  the  worship  which  will  henceforth  be  perpetually  offered 
before  it  by  thy  posterity  in  future  ages.'  Then,  gently  clapping 
his  hands,  he  bows  once  and  retires.  The  tamashiro  is  then 
put  in  a  wooden  box,  or  covered  with  a  cloth,  and  placed,  facing 
the  south,  on  a  low  table  in  another  room,  where  offerings  are 
made  before  it.  The  Buddhist  iha  i  (which  is  made  in  duplicate) 
cannot  be  prepared  until  after  the  priests  have  been  called  in  tc 
select  a  posthumouB  name  for  the  deceased. 


486 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Japanese) 


potent  protectors  of  the  soul.  In  addition  to  the 
other  garments,  the  Buddhists  dress  their  corpses 
in  straw  sandals  (waraji)  and  socks  (tabi),  the 
sandals  being  put  on  behind  before.  The  corpse  is 
also  provided  with  a  dzudabukuro,  or  bag,  contain- 
ing the  rokumonsen,  or  six  pieces  of  money  required 
for  the  ferry  across  the  Sandzunogawa,  or  Japanese 
Styx.  Originally  these  were  six  pieces  of  actual 
money ;  at  a  later  period  six  pieces  of  paper,  cut 
and  stamped  in  imitation  of  actual  coins,  were 
used ;  the  present  rokumonsen  is  simply  a  piece  of 
paper  with  the  representations  of  six  coins  stamped 
on  it.  The  number  of  coins  is  not  always  the  same 
— 6,  12,  18,  49,  according  to  circumstances  ;  and  the 
dzudabukuro,  which  is  really  an  ascetic  pilgrim's 
bag,  contains  all  manner  of  things  necessary  for 
the  long  journey  now  commencing  —  the  first 
lock  of  hair  cut  from  the  head  of  the  deceased  in 
infancy,  bits  of  his  beard,  nail-parings,  teeth,  a 
rosary,  '  letters  of  orders'  (kechi-myaku),  a  tobacco- 
pouch,  a  comb,  pins,  needles,  threads,  a  single 
change  of  garments,  and  a  towel ;  but  there  must 
not  be  more  than  one  of  each  of  these  things. 
When  a  husband  dies,  a  wife  cuts  off  her  hair  and 
puts  it  into  the  bag ;  when  a  father  dies,  the 
children  cut  their  nails  and  put  the  parings  into 
the  bag. 

In  some  houses,  when  a  death  occurs,  a  notice — 
kichu  ('period  of  mourning') — is  posted  at  the 
entrance  as  a  notification  to  visitors.  In  one  of 
the  busiest  thoroughfares  of  Tokyo  the  present 
writer  recently  observed  an  expansion  of  this 
idea.  In  addition  to  the  kichu  notification,  there 
was  a  little  white  table  standing  in  the  street, 
with  a  white  cloth  over  it,  a  bowl,  and  a  flower- 
vase  containing  a  single  branch  of  shikimi. 

One  of  the  first  things  to  be  done  after  a  death 
is  the  notification  to  the  authorities.  This  is 
made,  first  of  all,  to  the  headman  or  mayor  of  the 
village  or  urban  district,  while  in  the  case  of  the 
Shinto  it  is  also  made  to  the  priest  of  the  ujigami 
shrine  (i.e.  the  shrine  of  the  tutelary  god  of  the 
village  or  family).  Should  that  shrme  be  at  an 
inconvenient  distance  from  the  deceased's  residence, 
some  other  temple  near  by  is  selected.  The  Shinto 
clergy  do  not,  however,  have  much  to  do  with  the 
arrangements  for  the  funeral,  although,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  they  have  a  voice  in  the  selection  of  the 
day  for  the  funeral  obsequies. 

In  Buddhist  funerals  the  priests  play  a  larger  part, 
and  in  former  days  their  r81e  was  more  important 
even  than  it  is  now.  This  may  be  seen  in  the  fact 
that  in  some  very  ancient  temples  there  may  still 
be  found  a  yukamba  ('bath-room'),  in  which  the 
ceremony  of  washing  the  dead  (yukan)  was  carried 
on  under  their  directions.  (The  washing  cere- 
mony takes  place  after  midnight ;  a  new  wash-tub, 
pail,  dipper,  and  towel  are  used,  and,  after  the 
washing  is  over,  all  these  utensils,  together  with 
any  hair,  nails,  etc.,  taken  from  the  body,  are 
buried  in  some  secluded  spot.)  The  intervention 
of  the  priesthood  is  also  necessary  for  the  ceremonial 
shaving  of  the  corpse,  since  shaving  is  the  sign  of 
ordination,  and  it  is  the  theory  of  all  Buddhist 
sects  that  the  Buddhist  layman  passes  at  his  death 
into  the  Order  of  Monks.  When  the  shaving 
ceremony  is  over,  the  priests  prepare  a  kechi-myaku, 
(lit.  'letters  of  orders,'  i.e.  'certificate  of  ordina- 
tion '),  which,  as  we  saw  above,  is  placed  in  the 
dzudabukuro  for  use  during  the  soul's  pilgrimage 
in  the  realms  of  the,  dead. 

The  priests  are  also  consulted  about  the  selection 
of  a  day  suitable  for  the  funeral,  and  about  the 
posthumous  name  to  be  given  to  the  deceased. 
Government  regulations  and  sanitary  requirements 
interfere  somewhat  (not  much)  with  the  absolute 
freedom  of  choice  of  a  propitious  day,  and  attempts 
are   made  to  get  the  funeral  fixed  for  some  time 


within  24  hours  after  death.  But  these  regulations 
are  more  frequently  honoured  in  the  breach  than 
in  the  observance,  and  an  interval  of  many  days 
sometimes  occurs.  (The  difficulty  is  occasionally 
got  over  by  postponing  the  formal  announcement 
of  the  death  until  all  the  necessary  arrangements 
for  the  funeral  have  been  made.)  In  addition  to 
the  ordinary  cycle  of  the  seven  days  of  the  week, 
there  is  another  cycle  of  six  days  (generally  to  be 
found  in  the  almanacs),  according  to  which  the 
propitious  and  unpropitious  days  are  selected. 
The  names  of  these  six  days  are  sensho,  tomo- 
biki,  sempu,  butsumetsu,  daian,  and  shakko ; ■  a 
tomobiki  day  is  never  selected  for  a  funeral.  The 
posthumous  name  is  always  one  with  a  religious 
meaning,  and  it  is  also  so  formed  as  to  mark  the 
sect  to  which  the  deceased  belonged.  Thus  yo 
always  appears  in  the  posthumous  name  of  a 
Jodo  believer,  and  nichi  and  zen  in  those  of  Nichiren 
and  Zen  believers  respectively,  but  it  is  not  always 
the  case  with  the  latter.  Appended  to  the  post- 
humous name  is  a  designation  of  the  deceased's 
status:  koji  ('landlord')  and  daishi  ('landlady') 
for  a  gentleman  and  lady  of  high  rank  ;  shinji 
('  layman ')  and  shinnyo  ('  laywornan ')  for  ordinary 
men  and  women;  dqji  ('lad')  for  a  boy;  donyo 
('lass')  for  a  girl.  The  posthumous  name  is  in- 
scribed on  the  ihai,  which  is  executed  in  duplicate, 
one  being  retained  in  the  house,  while  the  other 
goes  to  the  funeral  and  is  deposited  in  the  temple. 
At  the  end  of  100  days  after  death,  lacquered  ihai 
take  the  place  of  the  plain  wooden  ones  first  used. 
In  the  same  way,  in  Shinto  rites,  the  tamashiro  is 
at  first  placed  in  a  '  temporary  soul-receptacle ' 
(karimitamaya) ;  at  the  end  of  50  days  it  is  placed 
in  a  '  permanent  soul-receptacle '  (mitamaya).  In 
some  Buddhist  families  there  is  a  large  family  ihai, 
on  which  the  names  of  all  the  deceased  members 
are  inscribed,  100  days  after  death.  It  should  be 
noticed  that  some  Buddhist  sects,  e.g.  the  Shinshu, 
speak  of  two  kinds  of  posthumous  names  :  the 
kaimyo,  given  by  the  priests ;  and  the  homyo, 
given  to  the  soul  in  Paradise  by  Amida  himself — a 
kind  of  '  new  name  which  no  man  knoweth  saving 
he  that  receiveth  it.' 

Notice  is  now  sent,  by  post-card  or  otherwise,  to 
friends  and  relatives,  announcing  the  decease.  It 
is  customary  to  pay  visits  of  condolence,  and  to 
send  presents  to  the  house  of  the  deceased.  The 
nature  and  manner  of  presenting  these  gifts  are 
fixed  by  custom,  but  it  is  very  common  at  the 
present  day  to  offer  money  in  lieu  of  other  gifts — 
a  kindly  tribute  which  is  always  very  acceptable  in 
view  of  the  heavy  expenses  which  a  Japanese 
funeral  entails.2 

1  The  cycle  of  six  days  (see  the  talismanic  tables  in  books  on 
magic,  e.g.  Barrett's  Magus,  1801)  depends  on  the  six  elements 
common  to  Kabbala,  Gnosticism,  and  Shingonism,  which  are 
sj-mbolized  by  the  term  Abarakakia,  to  which  reference  is  made 
in  this  article.  It  is  one  of  the  many  links  connecting  the 
Mahayana  with  the  Judseo-Gnostic  thought  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment times. 

The  days  are  (i.)  Sensho,  'first  half  good.'  A  sensho  day  is 
good  for  pressing  and  urgent  business  during  the  forenoon, 
but  not  after  midday.  By  urgent  business,  lawsuits,  petitions, 
etc.,  are  meant,  (ii.)  Tomobiki,  '  drawing  friendship.'  These 
days  are  good  in  the  forenoon  or  evening,  but  not  in  the  after- 
noon. There  is  no  contest  about  anything.  The  day  brings 
its  own  luck,  and  no  amount  of  human  striving  will  alter  it. 
(iii.)  Sempu,  'first  half  bad.'  No  urgent  business  should  be 
undertaken  on  such  a  day.  The  afternoon  is,  however,  lucky. 
(iv.)  Butsuynetsu,  'destruction  of  Buddha.'  A  sort  of  unlucky- 
Friday.  Nothing  done  on  such  a  day  will  prosper,  (v.)  Daian, 
'  great  peace.'  Very  lucky  for  anything,  especially  removals 
or  journeys ;  cf.  the  old  seaman's  superstition  about  starting 
on  a  journey  on  Sunday,  (vi.)  Sekko,  'red  mouth.' _  With  the 
exception  of  the  noontide  hour,  the  whole  of  this  day  is  unlucky. 
In  the  cheap  Japanese  calendars  (koyomi)  each  day  is  marked 
according  to  this  sixfold  cycle. 

2  E.  Schiller,  '  Japan.  Geschenksitten,'  in  vol.  viii.  of  the 
Mitteil.  der  deutschen  GeseUseh.  fiir  Natur-  und  Vblkerkunde 
Ostasiens  ;  cf.  also  A.  H.  Lay,  '  Funeral  Customsof  the  Japanese,' 
in  TASJ,  vol.  xix.  pt.  iii.  The  subject  is  a  very  large  one,  and 
beyond  the  limits  of  this  article. 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Japanese) 


487 


In  due  course  the  body  is  placed  in  the  coffin. 
Coffins  (hitsugi  or  kwan,  the  former  distinctively 
Shintoist)  are  of  two  kinds  —  nekwan  ('sleeping 
coffin')  and  zakwan  ('sitting  coffin').  In  the 
latter  the  corpse  is  placed  in  a  praying  posture  ;  in 
the  former,  in  a  recumbent  one.  At  the  bottom  of 
the  coffin  is  placed  a  piece  of  white  cotton  cloth, 
4  hand-breadths  wide,  and  8  shaku  (Jap.  feet)  in 
length;  over  this,  a  white  futon  a.nd  fusuina  ('  quilt' 
and  '  coverlet '),  and  a  pillow.  Then  the  corpse  is  put 
in,  together  with  any  objects,  e.g.  an  inkstand  or 
photographs,  prized  by  the  deceased  during  life ;  and 
the  whole  is  filled  up  with  buckwheat  husks  to  keep 
the  body  from  moving.  No  metal  object  may  be  put 
into  the  coffin.1  The  interval  between  theeneoffin- 
ment  and  the  funeral  is  the  most  important  period 
of  the  watching  by  the  dead.  It  was  a  period  of 
festivity  in  the  old  Shinto,  but  is  now  generally 
passed  in  silence  :  in  the  Buddhist  tsuya  ( '  wake  ) 
the  silence  is  broken  by  the  voices  of  the  priests 
who  are  summoned  on  the  last  night  to  read  Sutras 
by  the  side  of  the  deceased  and  for  his  benefit. 
This  is  known  as  makuragyo,'  or  '  pillow-Scripture,' 
and  is  accompanied  by  much  burning  of  incense. 
Entertainments  are  provided  for  the  guests.  The 
lawfulness  of  the  officiating  priests  partaking  in 
these  festivities  is  frequently  discussed  in  Buddhist 
magazines.  Very  often  the  priest  is  provided  with 
his  meal  apart  from  the  laity,  who  do  not  begin 
until  the  clergy  have  finished;  and  an  attempt  is 
sometimes  made  to  save  appearances  by  drinking 
the  saki  out  of  tea-cups. 

There  are  several  strange  old  customs  with  regard 
to  the  choice  of  a  location  for  the  grave.  Thus,  in 
some  of  the  remote  mountain-villages  in  Tosa, 
while  the  corpse  is  still  lying  outstretched  on  the 
rush-mat,  one  of  the  near  relatives  kicks  the  pillow 
from  under  its  head  and  carries  it  off  to  the 
cemetery.  When  he  has  selected  the  proper  place 
for  the  grave,  he  puts  down  the  pillow  there,  and, 
taking  out  four  small  coins,  throws  them  east, 
north,  west,  and  south.  'With  these  coins,'  he 
says,  '  I  buy  seven  square  feet  of  ground  from  the 
god  of  the  earth.'  Another  old  custom,  still  sur- 
viving in  remote  districts,  is  for  a  person  not 
connected  with  the  deceased  by  blood,  and  there- 
fore free  from  death  pollution,  to  sweep  the  ground 
selected  for  the  grave,  to  spread  a  rush-mat  on  it, 
and  on  a  table  placed  on  the  mat  to  erect  a  himorogi 
('temporary  tabernacle ')  for  the  earth-god.  This 
is  done  by  setting  up  sakaki  branches  with  little 
paper  pendants  (nusa),  etc.,  and  by  making  offer- 
ings of  rice,  fish,  vegetables,  seaweed,  and  fruit. 
Then  he  offers  the  following  prayer  : 

'  I  address  the  great  god  who  is  the  lord  of  this  locality.  A 
new  grave  is  here  to  be  made  for  N.  (name,  office,  rank).  With 
an  offering  of  wine,  boiled  rice,  and  nusa,  I  pray  thee  to  grant 
that  he  may  lie  in  this  grave  for  ever,  free  from  affliction  and  in 
peace.  I  apeak  with  all  respect  and  humility.' 
Then  he  clasps  his  hands  and  bows  twice. 

When  the  preparations  for  the  funeral  are  all 
complete,  the  coffin  is  carried  into  a  front  chamber, 
and  incense,  lights,  and  a  single  flower  are  again 
offered  before  it.  A  set  of  zen  is  also  provided. 
In  this  case,  the  zen  consists  of  a  bowl  of  unhuiled 
boiled  rice  (kurogome  no  meshi),  soup,  raw  miso 
('bean-paste'),  unrefined  salt,  and  a  pair  of  chop- 
sticks, one  of  which  is  made  of  wood  and  the  other 
of  bamboo.  Everything  is  now  in  readiness  for  the 
funeral  ceremony.  From  this  point  sectarian  differ- 
ences become  more  marked,  and  it  will  be  well  to 
treat  of  Japanese  funerals  in  detail  according  to 
the  various  sects. 

1  In  certain  Buddhist  sects  a  pilgrim's  staff  and  a  doil  are 
also  put  into  the  coffin  (Ohrt). 

2  The  Sutra  varies  with  the  sect.  In  the  Zen  sect  it  is  Yuikyd 
(Eka-Sutra)  ;  in  the  Shingon,  Mshxikyo  (Buddhi-Sutra).  These 
Sutras,  which  do  not,exist  in  Sanskrit  or  Pali,  are  said  to  have 
been  preached  by  Sakyamuni  shortly  before  his  entry  into 
Nirvana.  They  are  classified  under  the  Nehangyo  or  Nirvana 
Sutras. 


II.  SHINTO.— A  purely  Shinto  funeral  is  divided 
into  five  distinct  portions :  {a)  mitamautsushi,  oi 
introduction  of  the  spirit  into  the  tamashiro ;  (b) 
shukkwan,  or  taking  the  coffin  out  of  the  house  ; 
(c)  soso,  or  funeral  procession ;  (d)  maiso,  or  com- 
mittal to  earth ;  and  (e)  the  subsequent  purifica- 
tion. The  actual  ceremonies  are  conducted  by  the 
moshu  ('chief  mourner  '),  who  is  generally  the  heir, 
eldest  son,  or  other  near  relative.  Relatives  in  the 
ascending  line  are  generally  excluded.  Recently, 
when  H.I.H.  Prince  Arisugawa  lost  his  son,  the 
moshu  was  Prince  Ito.  The  moshu  is  dressed  in  a 
dress  of  some  dark  colour,  over  which  is  worn  a 
white  hitatare  ('surplice')  and  an  eboshi  ('mitre'). 
In  the  middle  classes,  however,  the  ordinary  haori 
('upper  garment ')  and  halcama  ('nether  garment ') 
are  frequently  worn. 

(a)  The  mitamautsushi  takes  place  apparently 
as  soon  as  the  tamashiro  is  provided.  The  moshu 
(sometimes  a  kannushi,  '  priest ')  sits  dowii  before 
the  tamashiro,  bows  twice,  claps  his  hands,  and 
announces  that  the  spirit  (tama)  of  the  deceased 
has  taken  up  its  abode  in  the  tamashiro.  This  is 
known   as   the  zokuji,   and   the  following  norito 


'prayer'  [Shinto])  is  used  (tr.  by  Ohrt)  : 

Alas  1  my  (father),  thou  hast  been  taken  away  from  us.  I, 
N.  N.,  and  the  rest  of  us  that  remain  behind,  will  still  continue  to 
do  thee  faithful  service  in  our  hearts.  Thy  life  has  come  to  its 
close  upon  earth.  Hear  us  in  thy  place  of  rest,  as  we  celebrate 
thy  obsequies.  Deign,  exalted  spirit,  to  take  up  thy  abode  in 
this  tamashiro,  and  remain  at  rest  for  ever  in  this  thy  house. 
I  address  thee  with  the  deepest  reverence.' 

This  norito  is  frequently  repeated,  as  well  as  the 
invitation  to  the  soul  to  participate  in  the  feast. 
The  tamashiro  is  then  placed  on  the  kamidana,  or 
'  god-shelf,'  used  in  Shinto  houses. 

(6)  Shukkwan. — Before  the  bier  is  taken  out  of 
the  house,  offerings  of  boiled  rice,  saki,  etc.,  are 
again  made.  Then  the  celebrant  seats  himself 
before  the  bier,  bows,  claps  his  hands,  and,  pre- 
senting a  tamagushi,1  addresses  the  spirit  with  the 
following  norito  : 

'This  day,  as  the  sun  sets,  we  shall  reverently  celebrate  thy 
obsequies.  We  pray  thee  to  behold  us  in  peace  and  without 
anxiety,  as  we  start  on  our  journey  and  pursue  our  way  (to  the 
cemetery).  I  speak  with  deep  reverence  and  humility.' 
Then  he  bows  twice,  claps  his  hands,  and  retires. 
All  relatives  present  do  the  same.  After  this, 
four  men,  dressed  in  white,  carry  the  coffin  into  the 
court-yard,  where  a  fire  is  burning  (on  the  theory 
of  a  midnight  funeral),  and  the  procession  is  formed 
in  the  following  order :  (1)  coolies  (or  outriders); 
(2)  coolies  carrying  torches  or  lanterns  (still  on  the 
theory  of  the  midnight  funeral) ;  (3)  servant  with 
a  broom  (relic  of  the  old  custom  mentioned  above) ; 
(4)  white  banner,  15  in.  in  width  by  8  or  9  ft. 
in  length,  carried  on  a  pole,  and  inscribed  with 
the  name  and  title  of  the  deceased  ;  (5)  bearers 
with  consecrated  branches  of  the  sakaki  tree ;  (6) 
chest  with  offerings  ;  (7)  bearers  with  torches  and 
lanterns  ;  (8)  the  coffin  (if  a  zakwan,  it  is  carried  in 
a  kago  ['  litter  '] ;  if  a  nekwan,  on  a  bier  of  white 
wood  ;  it  is  carried  on  the  shoulders  of  bearers  in 
white  surplices) ;  (9)  bohyo,  a  post,  inscribed  with 
the  name,  to  be  set  up  as  a  temporary  mark  for  the 
grave;  and  (10)  the  chief  and  other  mourners,  on 
foot,  as  a  general  rule.  Trestles  (koshidai),  a  table 
for  offerings,  hangings,  and  a  wooden  pail  and 
dipper  also  form  part  of  the  paraphernalia,  but  are 
now  more  generally  found  at  the  place  of  interment. 

(c)  The  soso  no  shiki  is  generally  celebrated  within 
a  curtained  enclosure,  though  in  Tokyo  and  other 
large  places  there  are  mortuary  chapels  to  serve  the 
purpose.  The  enclosure,  or  chapel,  is  invariably 
arranged  in  accordance  with  the  annexed  plan,  the 
ritual  observed  in  the  chapel  differing  very  slightly 
from  that  in  the  enclosure. 

As  the  funeral  procession  arrives,  the  musicians 
take  their  seats  and  begin  to  play.     During  this 

1  i.e.  a  consecrated  branch  adorned  with  numerous  pendants 
and  streamers  of  paper. 


488 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Japanese) 


time  the  bier  is  placed  in  its  proper  place,  the 
flower-standards  are  arranged,  and  a  high  stand 
is  erected,  from  which  a  pendant  will  later  be 
suspended.  When  every  one  is  seated,  the  cele- 
brant, with  his  assistant,  advances  before  the  bier 
and  bows.  During  this  ceremony  the  music  has 
ceased,  but  it  begins  again  as  soon  as  the  priests 
return  to  their  places. 

The  assistant  now  takes  his  place  before  the  bier, 
but  a  little  to  the  right  of  it.  Acolytes  bring 
a  banner  for  the  stand,  and  offerings  to  be  placed 
on  the  table — saki,  boiled  rice,  fresh  fish,  vegetables, 
seaweed,  cakes,  fruit,  etc.  Again  the  music  ceases, 
while  the  chief  celebrant  advances  once  more,  and, 
with  his  mace  on  his  left  hip,  commences  the  re- 
petition of  certain  prayers,  which  contain  a  recital 
of  the  dead  man's  birth,  lineage,  school-life,  and 
career,  official  or  otherwise,  and  conclude  with 
words  much  to  this  effect : 

'  Our  honoured  N.  has  passed  away  to  our  great  regret ;  to  our 
sorrow  he  has  given  up  the  ghost.    The  prayer  of  our  inmost 


lid.  Then  the  grave  is  filled  up,  and  on  the  new- 
made  mound  is  planted  the  bohyo,  a  few  lanterns, 
and  banners.  An  open  shed  resting  on  four  pillars 
is  sometimes  built  over  it,  and  generally  it  is  sur- 
rounded with  a  magaki  ( '  bam  boo  fence '),  and  a 
shime  ('  cordon')  of  rice-straw  string. 

The  Shinto  ritual  does  not  contemplate  crema- 
tion, but  it  is  sometimes  adopted.  In  that  case  the 
maiso-no-kotoba  and  the  ritual  that  follows  are 
used  at  the  time  of  the  interment  of  the  ashes. 

(e)  The  purificatory  rites  are  of  two  kinds — of  the 
house  and  of  the  mourners.  The  house  is  purified, 
immediately  after  the  corpse  has  been  taken  out, 
by  a  Shinto  priest,  who  comes  in  and  waves  a 
tamagushi  in  every  direction,  though  sometimes 
the  purification  is  accomplished  by  the  priest's 
rinsing  his  mouth  with  water  and  throwing  salt 
over  his  head. 

The  mourners  are  purified  on  their  return  from 
the  funeral.  (The  return  journey  is  always  by 
a  different  road  from  that  taken  when   going  to 


Musicians       / 

DDDDD' 


r~\  /Rush  mat. 

ol  f* — I 


I     Silk 


Relations  i  male  and  female 


□  □  □  □  □ 
*.     A.  g 


Curtain. 
Offerings  are first 'tepflun. 


Si 


|5J  \     M         leviable. 

^- Tamakashi  offers  J  by  chief  mourner 

^Jtigh  and  long  table t  on  which  things  are  offered. 
Silk  pendant. 
Pair  of  flowers.  __    . 


Bier. 


General  attendance 


heart  was  that  he  might  live  to  very  great  age,  but  it  is  the  way 
of  the  fleeting  world  that  he  should  come  to  this.  Our  prayer 
is  that  he  will  regard  with  tranquil  eyes  the  obsequies  we  are 
now  performing,  and  lie  down  to  rest  in  his  grave,  leaving  his 
spirit  behind  him  to  guard  the  house.  Reverently  and  with 
humility  I  make  this  prayer.' 

This  prayer  is  known  as  the  maiso-no-kotoba  ( '  words 
of  committal').  Everybody  stands  while  it  is 
being  offered.  "When  the  music  begins  again,  the 
chief  mourner,  habited  in  black  with  a  white 
surplice,  and  wearing  a  black  eboshi  ('mitre')  and 
straw  sandals,  comes  forward  and  offers  a  branch 
of  sakaki  as  a  tamagushi.  All  the  relatives  and 
friends  follow  this  example,  the  attendant  priests 
having  a  large  number  in  readiness  for  the  needs 
of  the  visitors.  Funeral  orations  are  delivered, 
sometimes  before  and  sometimes  after  the  offering 
of  the  tamagushi. 

(d)  Maiso. — The  coffin  is  now  carried  to  the 
grave,  and  lowered  into  it,  with  few  or  no  cere- 
monies. A  few  handfuls  of  earth  are  thrown  upon 
it,  and  a  boshi,  '  plate,'  inscribed  with  the  name, 
age,  rank,  etc.,  of  the  deceased,  is  put  on  the  coffin- 


the  funeral.)  There  are  apparently  three  methods 
of  purifying  persons,  viz.  (1  and  2)  the  methods 
observed  in  purifying  a  house,  and  (3)  a  slightly 
more  elaborate  one.  Offerings  are  placed  before 
the  tamashiro,  and  in  front  of  them  a  branch  of 
sakaki.  The  priest  (or  the  moshu)  recites  the  fol- 
lowing norito : 

'  I  thus  address  the  spirit  of  (my  father)  who  has  now  become 
a  god.  I  prayed  day  and  night  that  thou  mightest  live  to  be  a 
hundred  3'ears  old,  "and  now  I  can  but  weep  and  lament  that 
thou  hast  left  this  beautiful  world,  and  gone  to  the  dark  land 
beyond.      I  beseech  thee,  listen  in  peace  to  us  thy  relatives 

j  assembled  here,  as  we  celebrate  the  worship  of  the  dead  with 

i  all  manner  of  food.' 
Then  the  offerings  are  removed. 

The  first  fifty  days  after  death  are  observed 
according  to  the  Shinto  rituals  with  daily  offerings 
before  the  tamashiro.  Special  emphasis  is  laid  on 
the  10th,  20th,  30th,  etc.  On  the  fiftieth  day,  the 
tamashiro  is  removed  from  its  temporary  shrine  to 
the  mitamaya or  kabyo  ('  spirit-house'),  and  hence- 
forth the  worship  of  the  spirit  is  performed  along 
with  that  of  the  other  ancestors.     On  this  occasion, 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Japanese) 


489 


the  saishi-no-kotoba  are  used — prayers  asking  the 
spirit  of  the  deceased  to  take  up  his  abode  in  the 
kabyo,  and  beseeching  the  whole  body  of  the  an- 
cestors to  receive  him  into  their  company.  Similar 
prayers  are  offered  on  the  100th  day  after  death. 
On  that  day  the  temporary  post  should  be  removed 
from  the  grave,  and  a  stone  monument  set  up. 
The  first  anniversary  is  observed ;  after  that,  the 
anniversaries  of  the  3rd,  5th,  10th,  20th,  30th,  40th, 
50th,  and  100th  years.  After  that,  there  is  a  com- 
memoration every  100  years.  The  reader  will 
understand  that  it  is  only  in  very  exalted  families 
that  such  minutise  can  be  attended  to,  but  the 
Shinto  funeral  is  in  any  case  almost  entirely  con- 
fined to  the  highest  classes. 

III.  BUDDHIST. — Something  has  already  been 
said  about  customs  observed  in  Buddhist  houses  in 
the  care  of  the  dead.  The  general  procession  is 
somewhat  as  follows  (it  is  more  striking  to  the  eye 
by  reason  of  the  greater  splendour  of  vestments, 
etc.):  (1)  bearers  with  natural  flowers  {seikwa) ; 

(2)  bearers  with  artificial  flowers  (tsukuri-bana) ; 

(3)  four  (sometimes  two)  paper  dragons  on  poles 
(jato),  these  being  evidently  connected  with  the 
friendly  Nagas  of  Indian  Buddhism;  (4)  banner 
{meiki),  with  the  personal  name  of  the  deceased ; 
(5)  the  officiant  priest  {d6shi)y  with  his  assistant 
(mukaiso) ;  (6)  white  paper  lanterns ;  (7)  one  ihai 
(the  other  is  left  at  home) ;  (8)  incense  (kdro) ;  (9) 
the  coffin  on  a  bier,  borne  on  men's  shoulders,  and 
with  a  few  friends  of  the  deceased  walking  beside 
it ;  and  (10)  the  mourners  (generally  in  jinrikisha). 
A  bird-cage  full  of  birds  to  be  released  at  the 
grave-side,  and  a  sotoba  or  stiipa,  actually  a  post, 
notched  near  the  top,  and  inscribed  with  Sanskrit 
characters,  often  form  portions  of  the  procession.1 

l.  Ceremonies  of  the  Zen.2— (1)  The  service  in 
the  house. — In  this  sect,  the  officiating  priest  is 
generally  called  the  indoshi,  because  a  large  part 
of  his  duty  is  supposed  to  be  to  guide  (indo  sum) 
the  soul  of  the  deceased  on  its  voyage  through  the 
realms  of  the  dead.  The  indoshi  begins  by  laying 
his  hossu  ('chowry,'  a  brush  made  of  long  white 
hair)  on  the  lid  of  the  coffin,  as  a  sign  of  authority. 
Then  he  takes  up  the  razor  that  has  been  used  to 
shave  the  deceased.  This  is  followed  by  the 
words  : 

Teijo  shuhatsu  Tbgwan  shujo  Tori  bonno  Xugyo  jakxtmetsu  : 
*  The  hair  and  beard  have  been  shaved.  I  pray  chat  all  creatures 
may  forsake  evil  passions  for  ever,  and  reach  the  goal  of 
annihilation.' 

This  verse  is  sung  three  times,  sometimes  by  the 
officiant  alone,  sometimes  by  the  officiant  and 
chorus.  Next  follows,  sung  or  said  in  the  same 
manner : 

Ruten  sanfjaicku  Onnai  funOdan  Eton  nyurjiui  Shinjitsu 
koon  sha :  '  Whilst  transmigrating-  through  the  Three  Worlds, 
ties  of  kindness  and  affection  cannot  be  cut  off.  He  who  has 
cut  off  this  tie,  and  entered  the  realm  of  the  unconditioned,  is 
truly  a  grateful  man.' 

Now  follows  an  exhortation  to  the  deceased  to 
confess  his  sins : 

'  Young  man  of  good  birth '  [it  will  be  remembered  that  the 
deceased  is  supposed  to  have  received  the  tonsure],  '  if  thou 
wish  to  stand  fast  in  the  Refuges  and  to  observe  the  command- 
ments, thou  shouldest  first  confess  all  thy  sins.  [There  are 
two  formulae  of  penitence  ;  there  is  also  the  form  of  confession 
which  has  come  from  the  former  Buddhas  and  been  handed 
down  by  successive  patriarchs.]  All  thy  sins  will  be  pardoned. 
Recite  these  words  after  me.' 

Then  the  priest  recites  the  confession,  with  the 
sound  of  clappers  (kaiskaku)  once  at  the  end  of 

1  The  Sanskrit  characters  are  Eha  la  ka  va  a,  representing 
the  five  skandhas  ('  forms  of  mundane  consciousness'),  and,  as 
an  alternative,  the  five  elements  which  compose  the  universe. 
In  Shingon,  we  have  the  pair  of  formulae  A-ba-ra-ka-kia  and 
Eha-la-ka-va-a :  in  Irenaeus,  the  Gnostic  terms  Abraxas  and 
Caulacau  (Irenaaus  says  that  Caulacau  =  '  mundus'  [cf.  vol.  ii. 
p.  428,  note]).  See  the  present  writer's  The  Faith  of  Half 
Japan,  London,  1911. 

2  We  take  the  Zen  first,  not  as  being  the  oldest  of  the  now 
existing  sects,  but  as  representing  most  specially  the  purely 
Indian  side  of  Japanese  Buddhism. 


each  line,  and  twice  at  the  end  of  the  stanza.     The 
spirit  of  the  deceased  is  supposed  to  join  him  in 

his  recitation  : 

'  All  the  evil  karma,  which  I  have  accumulated  in  the  past, 
has  had  its  origin  in  desire,  hatred,  or  ignorance,  in  a  series  of 
previous  existences  which  has  had  no  beginning.     It  is  due  to 
the  body,  the  tongue,  and  the  mind.    All  this  I  confess,' 
The  priest  continues : 

'Thou  hast  confessed  thy  evil  deeds  of  body,  tongue,  and 
mind,  and  hast  obtained  the  perfect  purification.  Now,  there- 
fore, thou  must  stand  fast  in  the  Three  Refuges,  in  Buddha, 
the  Law,  and  the  Order.  The  Three  Treasures  have  a  threefold 
virtue,  the  threefold  absolute  virtue,  the  threefold  virtue  as  it 
was  in  Buddha's  time,  the  threefold  virtue  as  it  is  in  a  time 
when  there  is  no  Buddha  (ittai  sambo,  yenzen  saynbo,  juji 
sambo).  When  thou  hast  taken  refuge  in  them,  thy  virtues 
shall  be  completed.' 

Recitation  of  the  ninefold  Creed  follows : 
Namukie  Butsu,  '  Glory  to  Buddha  in  whom  I  take  refuge.' 
Namukie  Ho,  'Glory  to  the  Law  in  which  I  take  refuge.' 
Namukie  So,  *     „  ,,      Order        ,,  ,,  .' 

Eie-butsu-mudo-son,  *  I  take  refuge  in  Buddha,  the  super- 
eminent.' 
Eie-ho-ri-jin-son,  'I  take  refuge  in  the  Law,  the  undefined.' 
Eie-so-wago-s&n,  '        „  „        the   Order,  the    harmoni 

ous.' 
Eie-buk-kyo,  *  I  have  finished  taking  refuge  in  Buddha.' 
Eie-ho-kyo,  '  „  ,,  „  the  Law.' 

Kie-so-kyo,  '  ,,  „  „  the  Order.' 

[After  each  sentence  the  clapper  sounds  once ;  at  the  end  it 
is  sounded  twice.] 

The  officiant  goes  on  : 

'  After  this  wise  have  I  now  conferred  on  thee  the  Refuges. 
Henceforth,  the  Tathagata  [the  Buddha],  the  Truest,  the  Per- 
fectly-Enlightened is  thy  Teacher.  Put  no  faith  in  the  Tempter, 
nor  in  any  heretical  teachers,  but  have  respect  to  the  great 
Benevolence,  Deliverance,  and  Compassion  that  have  been 
vouchsafed  thee.  Now  will  I  recite  for  thee  the  ten  grave 
commandments.    The}'  are  these  : 

1.  fusesshd,       "thou  shalt  not  destroy  life." 

2.  fuchuto,       "  „  steal." 

3.  fujaind,       "  „  commit  fornication  or  adul- 

tery." 

4.  fumdgo,        '*  „  lie." 

6.  fukoshu,      **  „  sell  intoxicating  liquors." 

6.  fusekkwa,    "  „  backbite." 

7.  fujisankita,"  „  praise  self  at  the  expense  of 

others." 

8.  fukenhozai,"  „  be  grudging  of  the  gifts  of 

the  Law." 

9.  fushin-i,      "  „  be  angry." 

10.  fuhosambo,**  „  speak     evil    of     the     Three 

Treasures." 
These  ten  grave  commandments  have  been  formulated  by 
previous  Buddhas  and  handed  down  by  successive  Patriarchs. 
I  have  now  entrusted  them  to  thee.  Keep  them  well  in  all  thy 
existences  until  thou  attain  to  the  Buddhahood.  [This  formula 
ma}'  be  repeated  at  the  discretion  of  the  celebrant.]  Sentient 
beings  that  fulfil  the  Commandments  of  Buddha  are  placed  in 
the  same  rank  with  Him.  He  that  is  in  the  same  rank  as  the 
Perfectly  Enlightened  One  is  truly  a  Son  of  Buddha.' 

[Wooden  clappers  twice,  handbell  thrice.] 
The  priests  present  now  chant  a  stanza  known  as 
the  aaihishu.     When  it  is  finished,  a  priest  (not 
the  one  who  led  the  service  before)  takes  up  his 
word  : 

1  After  this  wise  has  been  sung  the  daihishu.  The  merits 
arising  therefrom  are  to  be  transferred  to  N.  [here  insert  the 
kaimyo],  newly  returned  to  the  elements.  We  pray  that  when 
we  place  his  body  in  the  coffin  the  Sambhoga  land  may  receive 
him.' 
Then  all  together : 

'  All  the  Buddhas  in  the  Ten  Directions  and  in  the  Three 
Worlds,  all  the  Honourable  Bodhisattvas  and  Mahasattvas,  and 
Mahaprajnaparaniita,  the  land  of  the  Sambhoga  Kaya.' 
The  same  priest  continues  : 

'  If  we  meditate  deeply  on  these  things,  lo  1  birth  and  death 
succeed  each  other  as  heat  follows  cold.  They  come  like  the 
lightning  flashing  over  the  deep  sky,  their  going  is  like  the 
cessation  of  waves  on  the  great  sea.  The  newly  deceased 
N.  has  this  day  suddenly  come  to  the  end  of  his  life,  by  reason 
of  the  exhaustion  of  all  seeds  of  existence.  He  understands 
that  all  composite  objects  must  be  dissolved,  and  is  convinced 
that  the  extinction  (of  the  seeds  of  existence)  is  bliss.  The  holy 
congregation  here  assembled  will  respectfully  recite  the  names 
of  the  saints.  May  the  blessings  resulting  from  that  recitation 
serve  to  adorn  the  road  leading  to  Nirvana. 

Vairochana,  the  Buddha  of  the  Holy  Dharmakaya. 

Rochana,  the  Buddha  of  the  Perfect  Sambhogakaya. 

Sakyamuni,  the   Buddha,   whose  Nirmauakaya   Incarnations 
are  hundreds  upon  hundreds  of  millions. 

Honourable  Maitreya  Buddha,  for  whose  coming  we  wait. 

All  Buddhas  in  the  Ten  Quarters  and  the  Three  Worlds. 

Mahayana-Saddharmapundarika  Sutra  (personified). 

Maharya  Manju^ri  Bodhisattva. 


490 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Japanese) 


Mahayana  Samantabhadra  Bodhisattva. 

Mahakarunika  Avalokitesvara  Bodhisattva. 

Honourable  Bodhisattvaa  and  Mahasattvas. 

Mahaprajnapararnita. ' 

[Here  follows  the  shariraimon,  or  Btanza  for  worshipping  the 
relics  of  Buddha.] 
One  priest  alone : 

'  After  this  wise  the  Names  of  the  Holy  Ones  have  been 
recited,  and  the  Sutra  has  been  chanted.  The  merits  arising 
therefrom  will  be  transferred  to  the  newly-deceased  N.  to 
adorn  the  Sanibhoga  land,  with  the  prayer  that  the  soul  may 
travel  beyond  the  consecrated  border  (of  personified  existence), 
that  its  karma  may  be  exhausted,  that  a  superior  lotus  flower 
may  open  for  it,  and  that  the  Buddha  may  give  it  a  prediction 
for  life.  Once  more  the  Holy  Assemblage  is  invited  to  chant.' 
All  present : 

'  All  the  Buddhas  in  the  Ten  Quarters  and  the  Three  Worlds, 
all  the  Bodhisattvas,  Mahasattvas,  and  Mahaprajnapararnita.' 
Then  the  indoshi : 

'  We  are  now  about  to  lift  the  sacred  coffin,  and  to  celebrate 
imposing  obsequies.  The  assembly  is  implored  to  recite  the 
great  names  of  saints,  and  to  assist  the  soul  of  the  deceased 
along  the  road  to  Nirvana.' 

This  ends  the  makuragyo,  or  service  in  the  house. 
The  procession  is  now  formed  outside,  and,  when 
the  coffin  has  been  put  on  the  bier,  a  start  is  made 
for  the  temple  or  graveyard. 

(2)  The  services  in  the  temple.  —Whilst  the  pro- 
cession, professedly  modelled  on  the  funeral  of 
Suddhodana  (the  father  of  the  Buddha),  is  making 
its  way  to  the  temple,  certain  preparations  have 
been  made  for  its  reception.  The  temple- bell  has 
been  set  tolling,  and  goes  on  until  the  cortege 
reaches  the  front  gates.  In  the  court-yard  four 
small  torii  ('gates')  of  wood  have  been  erected 
facing  E.,  S.,  W,  and  N.  On  each  is  suspended  a 
tablet  with  an  inscription  :  (1)  Hosshimmon,  the 
gate  of  religious  awakening ;  (2)  Shugyomon,  the 
gate  of  religious  practices  ;  (3)  Bodaimon,  the  gate 
of  Bodhi ;  and  (4)  Nehammon,  the  gate  of  Nirvana. 
They  are  symbolical  of  the  various  ways  that  lead 
to  Eternal  Life,  and  the  coffin  is  carried  three 
times  round  to  them  all  to  show  that,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  Zen,  all  four  are  necessary.  The 
ceremony  may  be  held  either  in  the  main  hall  of 
the  temple  or  in  an  open  court-yard. 

While  the  procession  is  making  its  round  of  the 
four  torii,  some  of  the  priests  slip  into  the  temple 
or  hall,  and  begin  the  recital  of  certain  dharani 
( '  secret  formula? ').  These  are  supposed  to  be  very 
efficacious,  even  by  the  Zen  sect,  which  originated 
in  a  protest  against  the  magic  formulae  that  were 
so  rife  in  the  China  of  the  6th  cent.  A.D.  Gradually 
the  assembly  take  their  seats ;  when  all  are  seated 
and  the  music  and  chanting  have  come  to  an  end, 
the  indoshi  recites  the  indo,  or  '  guiding  words,' 
for  the  benefit  of  the  soul  of  the  deceased.  Then 
another  priest  says  : 

'This  day  the  newly-deceased  N.,  having  exhausted  all  the 
sauses  of  life  (Skr.  pratyaya),  has  entered  Nirvana,  and  is  now 
to  be  buried  according  to  the  Law.  His  phenomenal  body,  the 
body  that  endures  for  a  hundred  years,  will  be  buried ;  the  real 
Self  will  be  sent  to  tread  the  lone  path  that  leads  to  Nirvana. 
The  holy  assembly  (of  monks)  is  therefore  prayed  to  assist  the 
soul  that  is  being  enlightened,  and  to  recite.' 
Here  all  the  priests  present  take  up  their  cue  and 
recite  : 

'  Vairochana,  the  Buddha  of  the  Holy  Dharmakaya,'  etc.,  as 
above. 
The  priest  resumes : 

'  After  this  wise  have  the  holy  Names  been  praised,  and  the 
soul  that  is  being  enlightened  has  been  helped.  Let  us  pray 
that  the  mirror  of  Wisdom  may  shed  its  brightness  on  him, 
that  the  wind  of  Truth  may  waft  on  him  its  splendours.  In 
the  garden  of  Bodhi  ('infinite  knowledge')  may  the  flowers  of 
Enlightenment  and  Wisdom  bloom,  and  on  the  sea  of  reality 
may  the  waves  roll  free  from  every  stain.  We  offer  three  cups 
of  tea,  we  offer  incense  to  accompany  him  along  the  solitary, 
clouded  path,  and  we  worship  the  assemblage  of  the  saints.' 
Here  the  congregation  recites  the  Ryogonshu ; 
then  the  priest  alone  : 

'  After  this  wise  have  the  names  of  the  Holy  Ones  been 
chanted  and  the  Sutra  been  recited.  The  merits  accruing 
from  this  act  of  worship  are  to  be  transferred  (eko)  to  the  newly- 
deceased  N.,  at  the  time  of  his  interment,  to  adorn  the  Sam- 
bhoga  land.' 
Chorus  of  attendant  priests  : 

'All  the  Buddhas  in  the  Ten  Quarters,'  etc.,  as  above. 


Small  bells,  drums,  and  cymbals  are  beaten  in 
chorus  three  times,  and  the  coffin  is  taken  away 
for  cremation  or  [and]  interment. 

No  special  ceremonies  are  observed  in  cremation. 
When  the  body  (or  the  ashes,  as  the  case  may  be) 
comes  to  the  place  of  interment,  it  is  lowered  into 
its  grave  by  the  nearest  kinsman.  All  the  banners 
are  placed  on  the  coffin-lid,  and  the  relatives  each 
take  a  handful  or  spadeful  of  earth,  which  they 
throw  into  the  grave.     The  grave  is  then  filled  up. 

2.  Ceremonies  of  the  Shingon.— We  now  come 
to  a  sect  whose  ceremonies  it  is  most  difficult  to 
describe,  for  the  reason  that  a  great  deal  is  done 
by  dumb  show,  the  so-called  mudra,  '  signs  of  the 
hand,'  being  matters  of  prime  importance  in  these 
ceremonies.  Great  stress  also  is  laid  on  the  recital 
of  mystic  formulas  in  debased  Sanskrit,  which  it  is 
not  always  easy  to  understand.  Some  of  these 
formulas  are  secret,  and  may  not  be  revealed  to 
the  general  public.  [For  all  these  the  student  is 
referred  to  vol.  viii.  of  the  Annates  du  Musie 
Guimet.]  The  Shingon  sect  is  in  many  ways  the 
most  interesting  of  all  the  Buddhist  sects  in  Japan  ; 
for  not  only  has  it  been  the  great  inspirer  of 
Japanese  art,  but  it  has  certain  most  striking 
resemblances  both  to  Alexandrian  Gnosticism  and 
to  the  Jewish  Kabbala.  These  will  be  duly  pointed 
out  as  they  occur. 

(1)  Ceremonies  in  the  house.1 — A  temporary  place 
of  worship  having  been  arranged,  when  the  service 
is  about  to  commence,  the  officiant,  also  called 
indoshi,  goes  before  the  coffin  with  the  long-handled 
incense-burner  in  his  hand,  and  makes  a  bow. 
Then  he  takes  his  seat  on  the  raiban  ('exalted 
seat  of  worship'),  rubs  his  hands  with  dzuko 
('liquid  incense'),  and  spends  some  moments  in 
meditation,  the  subjects  of  which  are  supposed  to 
be  the  '  three  secrets'  (i.e.  the  secret  dharani,  the 
secret  manual  acts,  and  the  secret  teachings  which 
have  been  committed  to  him)  ;  the  '  way  of  purify- 
ing the  three  deeds,'  i.e.  of  body,  mouth,  and  heart; 
the  'three  sections,'  i.e.  the  world  of  Buddhas,  the 
world  of  the  Lotus,  and  the  Diamond  World  ;  and 
the  'putting  on  of  spiritual  armour.'  All  these 
meditations  are  exhibited  by  the  corresponding 
formulae  and  manual  acts.  This  section  is  closed 
by  a  meditation  on  the  scented  water,  which  is 
called  the  kajikosui,2  'scented  water  signifying 
the  acceptance  by  the  believer  of  the  great  mercy 
of  the  Tathagata  projected  over  the  hearts  of  his 
creatures'  (so  explained  in  Sokushinjobutsugi). 
This  produces  an  effectual  union  of  the  worship- 
per's heart  with  that  of  the  Buddha. 

The  celebrant  now  proceeds  to  the  invocation  of 
the  Buddhas.  Commencing  with  a  manual  act 
('diamond- joining -hands'),  which  signifies  the 
raising  of  the  thoughts  towards  bodhi,  accom- 
panied by  a  dharani  of  the  same  import,  he  pro- 
ceeds by  a  series  of  gestures  and  formulae,  which 
it  is  not  necessary  to  give  here,  to  invoke  the  Uni- 
verse8 and  the  Atoms.4     From  the  invocation  of 

1  The  Shingon  house-ceremonies  are  performed  before  a  small 
temporary  altar,  on  which  stand  the  images  of  the  thirteen 
Buddhas  and  Bodhisattvas,  supposed  to  take  charge  of  the 
soul  of  the  dead  for  several. years  after  death.  These  thirteen 
Buddhas,  who  are  clearly  not  particularly  connected  with 
primitive  Buddhism,  appear  to  correspond  with  the  jEons  of 
the  thirteen  realms  of  the  dead,  through  which,  e.g.,  in  the 
book  Pistis  Sophia,  the  Gnostics  supposed  the  souls  of  the  dead 
to  pass  in  Hades.  The  thirteen  Buddhas  are  not  peculiar  to 
the  Shingon,  though  this  sect  lays  more  stress  on  them  than 
does  any  of  the  others.  See  note  on  the  subject  in  the  present 
writer's*  Shinran  and  his  Work  (Tokyo,  1910),  Appendix  iii., 
and  also  The  Faith  of  Half  Japan. 

2  The  kajikosui  is  also  used  in  the  abhi$eka,  or  baptismal 
rites  (Jap.  tcwanjo),  of  both  Shingon  and  Tendai.  It  corresponds 
to  the  opobalsamum  mentioned  by  Irenseus  as  used  in  the  bap- 
tisms of  the  Marcosian  heretics. 

3  The  dharani  is  Om-sammaya  satoban,  a  debased  Sanskrit 
which  we  have  not  been  able  to  understand.  The  manual  act 
is  called  a  meditation  on  Samantabhadra. 

4  Here  the  dharani  refers  to  the  five  exterior  elements  ;  it  is 
Om  Abiraunken,  '  earth,  water,  fire,  wind,  void.'    This  name 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Japanese) 


491 


the  Universe  impersonal  he  passes  to  that  of  the 
Universe  personal,  to  the  Five  Buddhas,1  to  Ami- 
tabha,  the  giver  of  immortality,2  and  to  Amitabha 
with  his  attendants  Avalokitesvara  and  Mahas- 
thamaprapta,  that  they  will  come  to  the  funeral 
ceremony  and  invite  the  deceased  to  enter  the  bliss 
of  Paradise.  After  each  of  these  invocations,  the 
komyoshingon,*  or  invocation  of  the  Five  Dhyani- 
buddhas, is  chanted  three  times.  Then,  coming 
lower  in  the  scale  of  dignity,  we  have  the  invoca- 
tion of  Ksitigarbha,  the  sixfold  protecting  angel 
of  the  dead  {Roku  Jizo),  and  that  of  Fudo-myo-6 
{Achdravidydrdja)&nd  the  other  great vidydrdjas — 
Mahatejas,  Vajrayaksa,  Kundali,  and  Tribhava- 
vijaya.  The  mantra  of  Ksitigarbha  is  Kakakabi 
samayei  abiraunken  sowaka  ;  that  of  Fudo-myo-o, 
which  is  chanted  three  times,  is  Nomaku  sdmanda 
bdsarada  sendam  mdkara  sJuttei  sowataya  untarata 
kamman.  (The  meaning  of  these  Sanskrit  formulae 
is  now  wholly  lost.) 

We  now  get  three  mudrds,  representing  the 
1  preaching '  of  Vairochana  of  the  three  kdyas — 
the  Dharmakaya  {Namu  A),  the  Sambhogakaya 
{Namu  Vam),  and  the  Nirmanakaya  {Namu  Un). 
The  three  syllables  A-vam-un  (possibly  Skr.  om 
=a  +  u  +  m)  represent  the  '  Trinity '  of  Vairochana. 
Then  the  stupa  is  figuratively  opened  and  shut — 
an  evident  allusion  to  the  Saddharrnapundarika 
Sutra  ;  next,  a  mudrd  (or  manual  gesture)  figuring 
the  abhiseka  of  Fudo-myo-6  (see  above),  with  Namu 
bam  repeated  thrice ;  next,  three  representing  re- 
spectively the  Dharmakaya,  Sambhogakaya,  and 
Nirmanakaya  (possibly  of  Fudo-myo-6),  with  man- 
tras respectively — A  n  banrankan  ken,  A  biraun7cen, 
and  Arahashano.  But  Fudo,  like  Ksitigarbha,  is 
sixfold  in  his  operations  in  the  six  spheres  of  sen- 
tient existence,  and  we  consequently  have  a  suitable 
gesture,  imparted  to  Kobo  Daishi  by  his  Chinese 
tutor  Keikwa,  for  which  the  mantra  is  Abiraunken, 
together  with  a  secret  formula  which  may  not  be 
written  down,  but  which  may  be  attained  by  means 
of  a  proper  '  meditation  on  the  Fire.' 

Thus,  the  whole  celestial  hierarchy  of  the  Shingon 
having  been  invoked,  it  remains  only  to  procure  for 
the  deceased,  on  whose  behalf  all  these  celestials 
have  been  summoned,  a  suitable  understanding  of 
what  it  all  means.  This  is  effected  by  means  of 
four  more  sets  of  manual  acts  and  mantras,  signi- 
fying respectively  the  attainment  of  the  perfect 
knowledge  of  rupadharma  {'objects  having  form '), 
of  chittaclharma  {'  objects  conceivable,  but  without 
form '),  of  rupadharma  and  chittadharma  together, 
which  are  not  two,  but  one ;  and,  finally,  a  medi- 
tation on  the  dharmadhdtu  ((  universe'),  for  which 
the  dhdranl  is  Om  Maitreya  Svdhd.  [The  Shingon 
are  firm  believers  in  Maitreya,  more  so  than  any 
other  of  the  Buddhist  sects.  It  is  their  conviction 
that  the  body  of  Kobo  Daishi,  which  never  decays, 
is  awaiting  the  advent  of  Maitreya  in  his  tomb  at 
Koya  San,  and  Shingonists  often  send  the  bones  of 
their  dead,  after  cremation,  to  Koya  San,  so  as  to 
be  near  to  Kobo  at  the  resurrection,  which  will 
take  place  when  Maitreya  makes  his  appear- 
ance. ] 

The  officiant  now  prostrates  himself  three  times 

appears  often  as  A  mbamramkakau  and  as  A-ba-ra-ka-kia.  It 
is  almost  certainly  the  Gnostic  Abraxas—  a  conclusion  in  which 
we  are  strengthened  by  the  fact  that  the  Gnostic  Caulacau  also 
seems  to  appear  in  the  mudrd.     See  above,  p.  4S9*,  n.  1. 

1  In  this  place  the  five  Dhyanibuddhas  are  Arnogha,  Vairo- 
chana, Mahamudra,  Manipadma,  and  Jalapravarta — a  very 
unusual  enumeration.  The  more  usual  one  is  given  below. 
We  believe  these  to  represent  the  five  Dhyanibuddhas  of  the 
Vajradhdtu  ('  Diamond  World/  i.e.  world  of  ideas),  the  others 
the  corresponding  set  of  the  Garbhadhdtu  ('  Womb  World,'  i.e. 
world  of  birth,  death,  concrete  existence). 

2  The  Shingon  form  of  Amitabha  is  Amritabha. 

3  In  Shinran  and  his  Work  the  present  writer  has  shown 
that  the  word  komyo  seems  always  to  have  Manichaean  asso- 
ciations and  connexions.  It  is  quite  possible  that  this  mantra 
mav  have  them  too. 


before  the  assembled  deities,  offers  incense,  strikes 
the  bell  three  times,  and  recites  a  sort  of  creed  : 

'With  deep  respect  for  all  the  Buddhas  here  assembled,  I 
take  my  refuge  in  Buddha.  May  all  creatures  follow  my  ex- 
ample I  I  take  my  refuge  in  Dharma.  May  all  creatures 
follow  my  example  I  I  take  my  refuge  in  the  Saiigha.  May 
all  creatures  follow  my  example  !  The  excellent  physical  body 
of  the  Tathagata  is  without  a  parallel.  The  form  of  the  Tatha- 
gata is  inexhaustible,  and  all  the  dharmas  (Jap.  i&saiho  = '  all 
matter  ')  are  permanent.  With  deepest  reverence  I  address  the 
great  Vairochana,  the  Tathagata,  the  Master  of  Shingon  Bud- 
dhism, and  all  the  venerable  ones  and  saints  of  the  two  assem- 
blies (i.e.  the  Vajradhatu  and  Garbhadhatu) ;  and  especially 
Amitabha,  the  master  and  teacher  of  the  Land  of  Bliss,  the 
Merciful  Maitreya,  for  whose  coming  we  wait ;  the  holy  Henjd 
Kongo  (i.e.  Kobo  Daishi),  who  sitB  cross-legged  in  deep  medita- 
tion ;  all  the  great  Acharyas,  the  transmitters  of  religious  light 
in  the  three  countries  (India,  China,  Japan),  and  also  in  all  the 
lands  illuminated  by  the  eye  of  Buddha,  and  pitied  by  the 
Three  Gems. 

If  we  meditate  deeply  thereon,  the  moonlight  of  "Oppor- 
tunity-which-is-born-when-the-desire-thereof-aiiseth"  (Kikivai 
hi  okoreba  sunawachi  shozu)  shines  in  the  sky  of  the  tranquil 
spiritual  Nature.  The  colour  of  the  flower  of  "The-Cause-that- 
being-exhausted-presently-disappeareth  "  blooms  in  the  Garden 
of  unbounded  Adornment. 

Appearance  is  as  non-appearance. 

Disappearance  is  as  non -disappearance. 

Both  appearance  and  disappearance  are  unattainable. 

They  cannot  be  named. 

The  deceased  N.,  his  causes  of  life  having  been  exhausted, 
has  gone  to  another  world.  He  has  left  his  body  in  Jambud- 
vipa)! and  has  entered  the  intermediate  state  (Skr.  antara- 
bhava,  Jap.  ehu-u).  Therefore  now,  in  accordance  with  the 
testament  of  the  Sakyan  king,  who  was  endowed  with  the  ten 
merits  (juzen),  we  will  with  tears  celebrate  the  ceremonies  of 
funeral-rites  and  cremation.  Having  adorned  the  Sacred  Altar 
upon  which  the  Tathagata  will  descend  in  answer  to  our  prayers, 
we  will  pray  for  the  favourable  acceptance  of  his  soul  by  the 
Venerable  Ones,  and  for  its  deliverance.  We  will  kindle  the 
pure  fire,  which  passes  through  all  the  six  elements  (rokudai 
mu-e),  and  so  cremate  the  body  which  from  the  beginning  has 
had  no  true  phenomenal  appearance  {honrai  fusho).  We  pray 
that  all  the  Buddhas  may  certify  for  him,  that  all  the  Saints 
may  pray  for  him,  and  that  they  may  receive  him  to  a  lotuB- 
stand  of  superior  dignity.  May  the  living  and  lawful  king  of 
reason  and  wisdom  (Vairochana  [?]  Amitabha  [?])  endow  him  with 
the  highest  Buddhahood  1  .  .  .  And  may  all  sentient  beings  in 
the  Dharmadhatu  be  equally  benefited !  .  .  .  I  speak  this  with 
all  respect.' 

This  ends  that  portion  of  the  service  which  is  known 
as  hyohaku,  'the  expression  of  belief.'  Next  fol- 
lows the  singing  or  chanting  of  the  Jimbun  shingyo, 
i.e.  the  Mahaprajnaparamitahrdaya  Sutra,  for  the 
purpose  of  giving  pleasure  to  the  assembled  spirits, 
in  order  that  they  may  make  their  appearance  upon 
the  altar.     After  this  a  priest  says  : 

'  In  the  yard  where  funeral  services  are  being  conducted  (for 
a  deceased  person),  it  is  generally  the  case  that  his  sins  all 
perish,  and  that  his  merits  rise  heavenwards.  This  is  the  time 
of  his  ascension  to  the  land  of  Bliss,  and  we  may  consequently 
expect  that  Yama  the  lawful  king,  and  the  five  infernal  officers 
of  the  other  realms  of  existence,  will  make  their  appearance. 
We  pray,  therefore,  to  the  thirteen  great  Buddhas,  to  the 
infernal  officers,  and  to  all  their  retainers  and  followers,  that 
they  may  aid  this  man  to  lay  aside  hiB  karma,  and  attain 
Supreme  Enlightenment.' 

Chorus.  '  Hail,  Mahaprajnaparamita  Sutra  1'  (one  bell). 

*  That  the  departed  soul  may  ascend  to  the  secretly  adorned 
sphere  of  flowers  (mitsugonkezo),  we  invoke' — 

Ch.  '  The  Name  of  the  great  Buddha  Vairochana '  (one  bell). 
'  That  he  may  ascend  to  the  world  whose  inhabitants  hunger 
not,  neither  thirst  (anyo  judo),  we  invoke  ' — 
Ch.  '  The  Name  of  Amitabha  (one  bell)  ; 

The  Sacred  Name  of  Avalokitesvara'  (one  bell). 
'  That  he  may  be  re-born  in  the  inner  palace  of  Tusitaloka,  we 
invoke' — 
Ch.  '  The  Name  of  the  Buddha  Maitreya  (one  bell) ; 

The  Names  of  all  the  Saints  in  its  inner  and  outer 
palaces '  (one  bell). 
'  That  the  Buddha-field  may  be  accessible  at  all  times  to  all  who 
desire  it,  we  invoke  ' — 

Ch.  •  The  Three  Holy  Treasures '  (one  bell). 

*  That  all  sentient  Beings  in  the  Dharmadhatu  may  be  benefited 
equally  (with  him  whose  obsequies  we  celebrate),  we  invoke' — 

Ch.   '  The  Name  of  Avalokitesvara  (one  bell) ; 

The  Name  of  Vajrapaoi '  (one  bell). 
[Here  the  officiant  lays  down  hie  censer  and  takes  up  his  nyo-i, 
or  mace.] 
Namo  ('  homage '). 
'Kimyo  choral  Mujoshugwan. 
Shorei  indo  Ojogokuraku, 


l  It  is  a  common  fiction  amongst  Japanese  Buddhists  that 
Jambudvipa,  which  is,  of  course,  Hindustan,  comprises  China 
and  Japan  as  well.  It  is  in  Japanese  pronounced  Nan-embudai. 
In  Nichiren  Sect  books  it  is  Ichi-embudai,  which  comes  nearei 
to  the  sound  of  Jambudvipa. 


492 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Japanese) 


Hail  I  Buddhas  and  Bodhisattvaa,  whom  I  worship  with  bowed 
head  aDd  potent  invocations  I  May  this  holy  soul  be  led  to,  and 
be  re-born  in,  the  'and  of  Bliss  ! 

It  is  by  the  adornment  and  honouring  of  the  Altar  of  the 
Teaching  of  Supernatural  Power  that  Supreme  Buddhahood 
may  be  obtained  as  in  a  moment.  It  is  by  the  proclamation  of 
the  teaching  that  the  material  body  is  identical  with  Buddha,1 
that  the  Buddhas  will  themselves  develop  enlightenment  in  the 
doctrine  that  phenomenon  is  itself  reality.' 
Next  follows  an  eko  ('prayer  of  transference'). 
The  officiant  lays  down  his  nyo-i,  and  resumes  his 
censer.     (One  bell.) 

'  I  respectfully  pay  homage  to  the  Three  Eternal  Treasures, 
and  extol  the  teachings  of  Buddha,  the  Tathagata  who  has 
realized  Nirvana  and  passed  beyond  birth  and  death.  If  any 
man  will  listen  to  Him  with  all  his  heart,  that  man's  soul  shall 
be  filled  with  unbounded  joy.  All  composite  things  are  im- 
permanent ;  they  are  possessed  of  the  necessity  of  growth  and 
decay.  They  spring  into  existence ;  again  they  perish ;  their 
extinction  is  bliss.' 

Then  the  Eishukyo  (Bnddhi  Sutra)  is  read,  and 
the  ceremonies  in  the  house  are  closed.  On  the 
road  from  the  house  to  the  temple,  the  priests 
meditate  upon  Fudo,  and  chant  his  mantra  (see 
above). 

(2)  Ceremonies  in  the  temple. — Near  the  entrance 
to  every  Shingon  graveyard  or  temple  will  be 
found  the  six  images  of  Ksitigarbha  (Eoku-Jizo), 
the  friend  and  protector  of  the  dead.  These  must 
first  be  worshipped,  as  also  the  corresponding  set 
of  six  Avalokitesvaras  (Roku-Kwannon).  Then 
the  officiant,  entering,  walks  three  times  round  the 
sacred  fireplace  which  is  found  in  every  Shingon 
temple,  with  manual  gestures  and  formulae  repre- 
senting the  five  elementary  colours,  the  putting 
on  of  spiritual  armour,  the  breaking  of  hell,  the 
raising  of  the  mind  to  the  contemplation  of  bodhi, 
and  the  meditation  on  Samantabhadra  {Fuge?i), 
the  special  patron  of  truth.  The  last  of  these 
dharani  is  Om-sammaya  satoban,  which  we  have 
mentioned  above  (p.  490b). 

All  this  leads  up  to  what  appears  to  be  the 
central  portion  of  this  temple-service,  the  cere- 
mony of  abhiseka  (Jap.  kwanib,  '  besprinkling '), 
a  kind  of  baptism  mystically  performed,  and 
transferred  by  a  subsequent  eko  to  the  credit  of 
the  deceased.2  The  abhiseka  is  threefold,  and  is 
followed  by  an  indo,  '  guiding  words,'  very  much 
the  same  as  that  used  in  the  Zen  ceremonies.  But 
the  Shingon  indo,  which  is  traditionally  attri- 
buted to  Kobo  Daishi,  is  not  in  writing,  neither 
are  the  dharani  used  in  this,  the  most  sacred  part 
of  the  service.  They  are  all  handed  down  orally 
from  teacher  to  disciple,  and  it  is  not  every 
Shingon  priest  that  knows  them.  Next  follows 
a  passage  from  the  Dainichikyo  (Mahavairocha- 
nabhisamboddhi  Sutra),  also  with  a  secret  accom- 
panying mantra  : 

'  Without  leaving  this  physical  body,  man  may  attain  to  the 
supernatural  power  of  jinkyotsu  (Skr.  rddhipdda,  '  means  of 
attaining  magic  power '),  and,  walking  freely  about  in  great 
Bpace,  may  comprehend  the  secret  of  the  body.' 
Then  come  :  abiraunken  (five  times) ;  the  mantra 
and  gesture  of  the  eye  of  Buddha  (not  committed 
to  writing) ;  a  list  of  the  succession  of  teachers,  with 
the  kaimyo  of  the  deceased  inserted  at  the  end ; 
separate  mantras  and  gestures  for  all  the  six  ele- 
ments composing  the  '  enlarged  Abraxas ' 8 — earth, 
water,  fire,  wind,   emptiness,   consciousness  ;    the 

1  It  is  an  essential  feature  in  Shingon  teaching  that  all 
material  objects — stones,  trees,  the  human  body,  etc. — partake 
of  the  Buddha  nature. 

2  If  the  present  writer  is  right  in  his  conjecture  that  Abara- 
kakia  or  Abiraunken  connects  Jap.  Shingon  with  Alexandrian 
Gnosticism,  we  may  also  be  justified  in  supposing  that  the 
abhiseka  thus  administered  in  the  Shingon  funeral  rites 
throws  much  light  on  the  '  baptizing  for  the  dead  '  mentioned 
by  St.  Paul  (1  Co  1529).     ' 

3  The  fivefold  scale  of  elements  is  represented  by  A-ba-ra- 
b?.-kia.  When  a  sixth  element,  ataya  ('  consciousness '),  is 
added,  the  word  becomes  Abarakakia  un.  The  addition 
of  this  sixth  element  is  sometimes,  though  without  good 
authority,  attributed  to  a  priest  named  Ryugyo  Hoshi,  about 
A.D.  1140.  We  believe  this  to  rest  on  a  misinterpretation  of 
the  Eojoki,  '  History  of  the  Hojo  Regents.'  See  Romaji  for 
20th  Nov.  1909. 


fujumon,  '  address,'  describing  the  deeds,  char- 
acter, etc.,  of  the  deceased ;  the  repetition  of 
several  mantras  and  hymns  ;  another  formula  of 
eko,  transferring  all  the  merit  thus  accumulated 
to  the  credit  of  the  deceased ;  the  dedication 
(figuratively)  of  the  staff  that  is  to  accompany 
the  deceased  on  his  journey  through  the  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death  ;  a  number  of  prayers  never 
committed  to  writing  ;  and  a  similar  manual  ges- 
ture on  the  '  most  secret  Nature.'  This  brings  the 
service  to  a  close. 

3.  Ceremonies  of  the  Tendai. — The  Tendai  has 
always  been  a  sect  with  strongly  developed  Eras- 
tian  tendencies.  In  the  days  of  its  initiation  in 
China,  it  was  the  ally  of  the  Sui  and  Tang 
Governments  in  their  efforts  to  control  the  hetero- 
geneous mass  of  teaching  calling  itself  Buddhist, 
which  was  flooding  China  in  the  6th  cent.  A.D. 
Introduced  into  Japan  about  A.D.  800,  it  served 
the  same  ends.  And,  when  Iyeyasu  had  brought 
peace  to  Japan  in  the  16th  cent.,  the  Tendai 
played  a  considerable  part  in  the  spiritual  policing 
of  the  country  which  was  carried  on  during 
the  whole  of  the  Tokugawa  period.  The  Tendai 
rites  which  we  are  about  to  describe  were  those 
observed  at  the  obsequies  of  Viscount  Takamatsu 
(August  1904). 

(1)  Ceremonies  in  the  house  :  the  otogi,  or  '  wake.' 
— The  ceremonies  begin  with  the  adoration  of  the 
Three  Precious  Things.  The  celebrant  (indoshi) 
thus  begins  : 

'  I  take  my  refuge  in  Buddha.  May  all  sentient  beings  com- 
prehend the  great  Path,  and  raise  their  thoughts  towards  the 
Supreme  Object! 

I  take  my  refuge  in  the  Law.  May  all  sentient  beings  (follow 
my  example,  and),  plunging  deep  into  the  Treasure  House  of 
the  ScriptureB,1  acquire  knowledge  as  vast  as  the  sea  ! 

I  take  my  refuge  in  the  Order.  May  all  sentient  beings 
(following  my  example)  attain  to  positions  of  rule  in  the  great 
assembly  1 ' 

Then  follows  what  is  called  the  instructive  stanza, 
as  taught  by  the  previous  Buddhas,  the  predeces- 
sors of  Sakyamuni : 

'  It  is  our  prayer  that  all  sentient  beings  may  refrain  from 
the  commission  of  sin,  that  they  may  do  good,  and  purify  their 
own  minds.  This  is  the  teaching  of  all  the  Buddhas.  We 
worship  the  assemblage  of  the  Saints.' 

The  Stanza  of  Evening  : 

'  Hearken  to  the  Stanza  of  Impermanency  under  the  simili- 
tude of  evening.  When  this  little  day  is  over,  our  lives  will 
end  and  we  shall  disappear.  We  are  here  like  fish  in  a  shallow 
(basin  of)  water.  O  ye  Bhiksus,  is  there  anything  in  the  world 
that  is  pleasurable  ?  Exert  yourselves  with  diligence,  and  lose 
no  time  in  saving  yourselves  from  the  fire.  Meditate  on  the 
impermanency  of  material  objects  which  are  empty  as  the  void, 
be  diligent,  be  not  slothful.' 

The  Stanza  of  Impermanency  : 

1  All  composite  things  are  impermanent,  for  they  are  liable 
to  growth  and  decay.  They  spring  up  into  existence,  and 
perish.  Their  extinction  is  bliss.  The  Lord  Buddha  has 
realized  Nirvana  and  banished  for  ever  birth  and  death.  He 
that  wills  to  listen  to  this  teaching  with  his  whole  heart  shall 
gain  immeasurable  happiness.' 

The  Six  '  Fors ' : 

'  For  all  believers 2  in  the  Ten  Quarters,  let  us  meditate  on 
the  Tathagata  Sakyamuni.    (One  bell.) 

For  His  Majesty  our  Emperor,  let  us  meditate  on  Yakushi 
Ruriko  Nyorai.3    (One  bell.) 

For  the  four  "benefactions"4  in  the  Three  Worlds,  let  ua 
meditate  on  Amitabha  Nyorai.    (One  bell.) 

For  our  Great  Teacher,  Dengyo  Daishi,6  and  all  the  Venerable 

1  The  Tendai  is  one  of  those  sects  which  profess  to  base  their 
tenets  on  the  whole  vast  Canon  of  the  Mahayana. 

2  The  Jap.  word  is  danna  (Skr.  ddnam,  '  generosity ').  Giving 
is  the  first  duty  of  a  la3Tnan.  The  word  has  come  to  mean 
'  householder,'  '  layman,'  and  is  commonly  used  by  servants, 
etc.,  in  addressing  their  master. 

3  See  above,  for  the  connexion  of  Tendai  with  the  State. 
Yakushi  (Bhaishajyaguru)  is  the  master  of  medicines,  who 
went  about  healing  sickness  and  had  twelve  disciples.  He  was 
a  very  favourite  god  during  the  Nara  period. 

4  The  shi-on  represent  the  gratitude  we  owe  for  the  benefac- 
tions we  receive  from  (1)  our  parents,  (2)  our  rulers  and  the 
State,  (3)  sentient  creatures  in  general,  and  (4)  the  Three 
Precious  Things  of  religion. 

6  Dengyo  Daishi,  founder  of  the  Japanese  Tendai,  A. a 
767-822. 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Japanese) 


493 


Ones,  let  ub  meditate  on  the  Saddharmapundarika  Sutra.  (One 
bell.) 

For  all  the  gods,1  let  ub  meditate  on  the  Mahaprajnaparamita 
Sutra.    (One  bell.) 

For  all  Sentient  Beings  in  the  Dharmadhatu,  let  ub  meditate 
on  the  Bodhisattva  Manjusri.'    (One  bell.) 

The  Four  Reverential  Invitations  :  2 

1  There  is  delight  in  the  scattering  of  flowers  (bis). 

We  reverentially  invite  all  the  Tathagatas  in  the  Ten  Quarters 
to  alight  on  this  sacred  altar.    There  is  delight,  etc. 

We  reverentially  invite  Sakyamuni  the  Tathagata  to  alight 
on  the  sacred  altar.    There  is,  etc. 

We  reverentially  invite  Amitabha  the  Tathagata,  etc.  There 
is,  etc. 

We  reverentially  invite  Avalokitesvara,  Mahasthamaprapta 
(Kwannon  and  Seishi)  and  all  other  Bodhisattvas,  etc.  There  is 
delight  in  the  scattering  of  flowers.' 

Namu  Amida  Butsu,  Amida  butsu,  Amida  butsu. 

The  reading  of  the  Sukhavativyuha  (Amida 
Kyo). 

Namu  Amida  Butsu,  Amida  butsu,  Amida  butsu. 

Prayer  of  Transference  [eko)  : 

'  All  the  benefits  arising  from  the  invocations  we  have  just 
made,  we  transfer  to  the  Lord  Amitabha  in  the  Land  of  Bliss. 
May  we  be  graciously  accepted  in  the  great  sea  of  His  Vow, 
may  our  karma  be  destroyed,  and  may  we  realize  samddhi 
('supernatural  tranquillity')  I  May  the  Devas  and  deities  of 
the  sky  and  the  earth  experience  an  increase  of  their  dignities, 
and  may  the  gods  (Shinto)  assembled  in  this  place  take  pleasure 
in  what  we  do !  May  the  Great  Teachers  who  have  passed 
away  accomplish  Perfect  Enlightenment,  and  may  all  souls, 
noble  and  mean,3  attain  to  Buddhaship  I  May  Jikaku,  our 
great  Teacher,4  experience  ever- increasing  happiness,  and  may 
our  benefactors  during  the  last  seven  generations  be  re-born  in 
the  Land  of  Bliss  !  May  the  venerable  soul  that  has  now  passed 
away  be  re-born  in  the  Land  of  Bliss  and  attain  to  Buddha- 
hood,  seated  on  a  lotus-seat  of  high  degree  I  May  the  Court  of 
our  Wise  Emperor  be  preserved  from  harm,  and  may  the  reign 
of  His  Majesty  be  long  drawn  out.  May  the  country  be  peace- 
ful, and  may  religion  prosper  I  May  the  laymen  in  the  Ten 
Quarters  be  free  from  evil  and  sorrow,  and  may  the  fraternity 
of  monks  who  invoke  the  names  of  the  Buddhas  accomplish 
perfection  1  When  they  come  to  the  end  of  their  lives,  may 
they  not  misB  the  ascent  to  the  Land  of  Bliss,  and  may  they 
meet  Amitabha  and  his  attendant  hosts  face  to  face !  May 
their  desire  for  bodhi  ("  supreme  knowledge  ")  never  fail  them, 
and  may  they  be  the  leaders  of  all  sentient  beings  in  the  Three 
Worlds  and  in  Dharmadhatu  1  And  may  they  all,  partaking,  ae 
they  do,  of  the  same  spiritual  nature,  alike  attain  to  bodhil' 

The  post-e&d  hymn  : 

'  May  we,  living  in  this  world,  be  as  though  we  lived  in  the 
heavens,  like  the  lotus  untarnished  by  the  water  1  Prostrate 
on  the  ground,  we  worship  the  Pre-eminent  One,  with  hearts 
purer  than  the  lotus.' 

Adoration  of  the  Three  Precious  Things. 

The  Instructive  Stanzas  preached  by  the  Seven 
Previous  Buddhas. 

The  Confession  of  Sins  : 

'  May  the  three  obstacles  (passion,  karma,  and  the  secondary 
results  of  karma,  Jap.  hosho)  be  removed  absolutely  and  uni- 
versally for  the  benefit  of  the  four  benefactors  (note  4  above), 
and  for  beings  in  all  spheres  of  existence  and  throughout  the 
dharmadhatu.  For  their  sakes,  we  repent  of  all  our  sins,  from 
the  bottom  of  our  hearts,  in  the  presence  of  all  the  Buddhas 
in  the  Ten  Quarters.' 
Gonenmon,  or  meditation  on  the  Five  Gates  of 

£  raising  Amida,  by  which  men  enter  into  the  Pure 
and.  These  are  all  taken  from  Vasubandhu's 
treatise  on  the  Pure  Land  {Jodoron).  They  are  : 
(1)  Raihaimon  ('the  Gate  of  Worship') ;  (2)  San- 
tammon  ('the  Gate  of  Praise');  (3)  Sagwanmon 
(*  the  Gate  of  Prayer')  ;  (4)  Kwansatsumon  {*  the 
Gate  of  Observance')  ;  and  (5)  Ekomon  ('  the  Gate 
of  Transference ').  The  following  is  an  abbrevi- 
ated form  of  the  Gonenmon,  as  recited  at  a  Tendai 
funeral : 

*  With  my  head  touching  the  ground  I  adore  Amitabha  the 
Sage,  the  noblest  of  two-footed  beings,  whom  gods  and  men 

1  i.e.  the  Shinto  deities  of  Japan,  adopted  into  the  Buddhist 
pantheon. 

2  Similar  forms  will  be  found  in  the  sects  of  Jodo  and 
Shin3hu,  which,  originating  in  the  Tendai,  developed  the 
doctrine  of  Amida.  In  the  Nichiren,  which  rejects  Amida, 
they  are  not  found.  The  Zen  derived  neither  doctrines  nor 
ritual  from  Tendai,  nor  did  the  Shir.gon. 

3  It  was  from  this  that  Genshin  (a.d.  942-1017),  the  first 
Japanese  Patriarch  of  the  Shinshu,  derived  his  teaching  about 
the  twofold  Paradise,  Kivedo,  in  which  the  sins  of  the  '  mean  ' 
souls  are  purged,  and  Hodo,  in  which  noble  and  mean  alike 
attain  to  Perfection.  This  is  brought  out  in  Shinran's  poem 
Shoshinge. 

*  Jikaku,  the  second  Patriarch  of  the  Tendai  (a.d.  794-864). 


delight  to  honour,  who  dwells  in  the  choice  Paradise  of  ease 
and  bliss,  surrounded  by  an  innumerable  host  of  the  Sons  of 
Buddha.  The  pure  golden  body  of  the  Buddha  is  like  the  king 
of  Mountains,  and  his  footsteps,  when  he  walketh  in  tran- 
quillity, are  like  those  of  the  stfll-treading  elephant.  His  eyes 
are  as  pure  as  the  lotus.  I,  therefore,  with  my  head  touching 
the  ground,  adore  the  venerable  Amitabha.  His  face,  good, 
round,  and  pure,  is  as  that  of  the  moon  at  her  full.  His 
majestic  brilliancy  is  as  that  of  thousands  of  suns  and  moons. 
His  voice  is  as  mighty  as  that  of  the  celestial  drum  [thunder] 
and  as  soft  as  the  voice  of  the  Kariobinga  bird.  Therefore  I, 
placing  my  head  on  the  ground,  adore  the  venerable  Ami- 
tabha. .  .  . 

Thus  I  worship  the  Buddha  and  praise  his  merits.  May  the 
dharmadhatu  be  adorned  (with  many  virtues)  1  May  sentient 
beings,  arriving  at  the  term  of  their  lives,  go  to  the  Western 
Land,  and,  meeting  with  Amitabha,  may  they  accomplish 
Buddhahood !  May  sentient  beings  go  and  be  re-born  in  the 
Paradise  of  Bliss  I  May  they  go  and  meet  with  Amitabha,  the 
Venerable  One  I ' 

Next  follow  the  burning  of  incense  and  the  pre- 
sentation of  oblations  (cakes,  tea,  hot  water 
sweetened  with  sugar,  boiled  rice).  The  chief 
mourner,  the  family,  and  relatives  offer  incense. 
Then  are  read  passages  from  the  Saddharma- 
pundarika Sutra,  illustrating  the  various  '  gates ' 
of  the  Gonenmon,  and  thus  the  otogi  ceremony 
(which  is  supposed  to  take  place  on  the  day  of 
death)  is  brought  to  a  close. 

(2)  Ceremonies  in  the  house  :  the  first  part  of  the 
actual  funeral. — This  is  conducted  by  thefukudoshi 
(*  second  celebrant'),  with  a  choir  of  six  assistants, 
the  first  celebrant  {doshi)  awaiting  the  cortege  at 
the  temple. 

The  Four  Invitations  (as  in  the  otogi). 
Stanza  of  Repentance  : 

'All  the  evil  karma,'  etc.  (see  above,  'Ceremonies  of  the 
Zen,'  p.  489b). 

The  three  Refuges : 

'  Hail  be  to,  and  I  take  refuge  in,  Buddha. 
,,  ,,  Dharma. 

j>  ,         »»  Sangha. 

I  take  refuge  in  Sakyamuni,  chief  of  two-footed  beings.* 
„  ,,        Dharma,  chief  of  lustless  things. 

„  ,,        Saiigha,  noblest  of  congregations, 

I  have  finished  taking  refuge  in  Buddha. 
„  „  Dharma. 

it  n  Sangha.' 

The  General  Vows  (sogwan) : 

'Sentient  beings  are  numberless.  May  I  make  them  all 
traverse  the  sea  of  saihsara  ('  metempsychosis  ") ! 

Evil  passions  are  endless.  May  I  help  sentient  beings  to 
destroy  them  1 

The  gates  of  the  Law  (Scriptures)  are  infinite.  May  I  cause 
sentient  beings  to  understand  them  I 

Supreme  Buddhahood  is  ineffable.  May  I  make  sentient 
beings  attain  to  it  1 ' 

Hyohaku  (see  under  '  Shingon,'  above,  p.  491b). 

Chanting  of  a  Sutra  ;  either  the  Sukhavativyuha 
or  the  Saddharmapundarika. 

Post-cAo  hymn  (as  in  the  otogi  above). 

Burning  of  incense  and  offering  of  oblations  (as 
above). 

Chief  mourner,  family,  and  relatives  burn 
incense. 

The  Invocation  of  the  Buddhas  in  the  Ten 
Quarters. 

'  Hail  to  the  Buddhas  in  the  Ten  Quarters. 
„  Dharma        „  ,, 

„ ,        Sangha         ,,  ,, 

Hail  to  Sakyamuni  Buddhas. 

Hail  to  the  Buddha  Prabhutaratna  (mentioned  in  Saddh.). 
Hail  to  Sakyamuni,   whose  body  is  divided  into  the  Ten 

Directions. 
Hail  to  the  Saddharmapundarika  Sutra. 
„    Manjusri  the  Bodhisattva  (Monju). 
,,    Samantabhadra  the  Bodhisattva  (Fugen).* 

This  ends  the  ceremonies  in  the  house. 

(3)  The  ceremonies  in  the  temple. — On  arrival  at 
the  temple,  the  bell  is  tolled,  and  the  choir  of 
clergy  take  their  seats,  followed  by  the  celebrant 

l  The  Tendai  very  generally  identify  Sakyamuni  with 
Amitabha.  Hence  the  application  of  the  same  epithet  to  both. 
In  the  Shinshu,  which  derives  much  of  its  terminology  from 
Tendai,  this  identification  is  known  as  ni-son-itchi  ('  the  iden 
tity  of  the  two  Blessed  Ones'). 


494 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Japanese) 


and  his  assistant.      The  choir  recite,  in  debased 
Sanskrit,  the  fourfold  hymn  of  Wisdom  : 
'  Om  basarasataba  shigyaraka. 

basaraaratanarnadotaran. 

basaradarumagyaganai. 

basarakarumakaro  bava.'  1 

The  celebrant  now  goes  up  to  the  High  Altar, 
and  there  makes  a  mudrd  ('manual  gesture') 
known  as  ko?nyogu.2 

An  introit  is  sung,  the  '  Hymn  of  taking  the 
seat.' 

JndOy  'guiding  words,'  spoken  by  the  celebrant. 

The  praise  of  the  shakujo,  '  pilgrim's  staff' : 

*  I  take  a  staff  in  ray  hand  (does  so).  May  all  sentient  beings 
follow  my  example  ! ' 

The  whole  choir  say  with  the  celebrant : 
'  I  give  a  feast  of  charity,  and,  showing  the  true  Way,  make 
offerings  to  the  Three  Precious  Things  {bis).  With  a  pure  mind 
I  make  offerings  to  the  Three  Precious  Things  (bis).  Striving 
to  raise  a  pure  mind,  I  make  offerings  to  the  three  gems 
(shakes  the  shakujo  twice) ;  may  all  sentient  beings  follow  my 
example  !  May  I  become  the  Teacher  of  Devas  and  men  ;  may 
I  fill  the  Heavens  with  my  vows ;  may  I  cause  suffering  beings 
to  traverse  the  sea  of  samsdra,  and,  guarded  by  spiritual  beings, 
to  make  offerings  to  the  Three  Precious  Things  1  May  they 
meet  with  Buddhas  and  obtain  the  Buddhahood  1  (Shakes  the 
shakujo  twice.)  May  all  sentient  beings  learn  the  sacerdotal 
Truth3  (shintai);  may  they  treat  their  fellow-beings  with 
respect  and  sympathy  ;  may  they  learn  worldly  truth  and  treat 
their  fellow-beings  with  respect  and  sympathy  ;  may  they  learn 
the  doctrine  of  the  One  Vehicle,4  and  treat  their  fellow-beings 
with  respect  and  sympathy  ;  may  they  respectfully  make  offer- 
ings to  the  Three  Precious  Things— to  Buddha,  to  Dharma,  to 
Sangha —  to  each  individually,  to  all  three  conjointly  (ittai 
sambo).  [The  shakujo  is  shaken  twice.]  May  all  sentient 
beings  practise  Silaparamita  (the  perfection  of  character),  .  .  . 
Danaparamita  (the  perfection  of  generosity),  .  .  .  Ksantipara- 
mita  (the  perfection  of  long-suffering),  .  .  .  VTryaparamita. 
(the  perfection  of  fortitude),  .  .  .  Dhyanaparamita  (the  perfec- 
tion of  meditation),  .  .  .  Prajhaparamita  (the  perfection  of 
wisdom),  .  .  .  and  may  they  treat  their  fellow-beings  with 
benevolence  and  sympathy  I  [The  shakujd  is  shaken  twice.] 
Buddhas  in  the  past  have  taken  up  the  pilgrim's  Btaff  and  have 
been  enlightened.  Buddhas  in  the  present  have  taken  up  the 
staff  and  have  been  enlightened.  Buddhas  in  the  future  will 
take  up  the  staff  and  be  enlightened.  I  therefore  take  up  the 
staff  and  make  offerings  to  the  Three  Precious  Things  (bis).' 

The  celebrant  comes  down  from  the  High  A]  tar 
and  burns  incense. 

Offerings  of  tea  and  hot  water  with  sugar. 

Lifting  the  coffin  off  the  bier  and  closing  it. 

The  assistant  (fukudoshi)  reads  the  Funeral 
Oration. 

Chanting  of  a  Sutra. 

Chief  mourner,  family,  and  relatives  burn  in- 
cense. 

General  congregation  follow  their  example. 

When  all  who  wish  have  burned  incense,  the 
celebrant  and  choir  leave  the  temple. 

So  end  the  funeral  ceremonies  of  the  Tendai. 

4.  Ceremonies  of  the  Jodo. — The  Jodo  sect, 
founded   by   Honen   Shonin   in  A.D.    1174,    is  an 

1  Tins  in  Sanskrit  would  be  somewhat  as  follows : 
'  Om  vajra  sattva  saiigraha ! 
vajraratnamanuttarani  1 
vajradharma  gaganah  I 
vajrakarmakaro  bhava!' 
'Hail!  Store  of  Diamond-Essence  !  Diamond-Jewel  that  hath 
none  higher  !    Heaven  of  the  Diamond-Law  I    Be  thou  working 
the  Diamond-Karma!' 

'■*  Komyogu  is  very  possibly  a  Manichaean  word.  It  was  used 
in  the  designation  of  the  Manichaean  temples  (cf .  Lloyd,  Shinran 
and  his  Work,  Appendix  i.  and  ii.). 

3  There  is  a  distinction  made  in  Tendai  (also  in  Shinshu) 
between  the  'noble'  and  the  'mean,'  just  as  Manichsans  were 
divided  into  '  hearers'  and  'perfect.'  For  the  hearers  only  a 
very  simple  creed  was  required  (Jap.  zokutaimon  [cf.  Lloyd, 
op.  tit.  p.  109]).  A  more  elaborate  form  of  faith  and  life  was 
required  from  the  perfect  (shintaimon),  which  included  assent 
to  theological  truths. 

4  The  Jodo  sects  maintain  that  the  One  Vehicle  is  the  one  by 
Faith  in  Amida,  also  that  the  Tendai,  if  true  to  their  own 
doctrinal  standards,  are 'committed  to  this  position.  It  is 
perhaps  worth  our  while  to  note  as  an  interesting  point  that 
Amida  is,  to  Tendai,  Jodo,  and  Shinshu,  pre-eminently  the 
Buddha,  that  the  character  for  Buddha  was  introduced  into 
China  a.d.  64,  that  it  signifies  'the  man  with  the  arrows  and 
bow '  (Emp.  Ming-ti's  Vision  ;  cf.  Rev  62),  that  in  the  legend  it  is 
connected  with  a  'white  horse,'  and  that,  divided  into  its  con- 
stituent elements  (man,  arrows,  bow),  it  represents  the  first 
three  letters  of  the  name  of  Jesus. 


offshoot  of  the  Tendai,  or  rather  an  attempt  to  call 
back  the  Tendai  to  that  sole  Faith  in  Amitabha 
which  the  Jodo  sects  maintain  to  be  the  essential 
feature  of  primitive  Mahayanism. 

(1)  The  service  in  the  house  (Gongyoshiki). — 
Opening  verse  of  the  regular  service  : 

'May  our  minds  be  purified  as  the  incense-burner  !  May  our 
minds  be  bright  and  clear  as  the  fire  of  Wisdom  ! 

Burning  the  incense  of  morality  and  tranquillity,  thought  by 
thought,  make  offerings  to  the  Buddhas  in  the  Ten  Quarters,  in 
the  Three  Worlds,' 

Samborai,  or  worship  of  the  Three  Precious 
Things  : 

'  With  all  our  hearts  we  pay  supreme  honours  to  the  Supreme 
Buddhas  in  the  Ten  Quarters.  .  .  . 

With  all  our  hearts  we  pay  supreme  honours  to  the  Supreme 
Dharmas  in  the  Ten  Quarters.  .  .  . 

With  all  our  hearts  we  pay  supreme  honours  to  the  Supreme 
Saughas  in  the  Ten  Quarters.  .  .  .' 

Shibujo,  or  fourfold  Invitation,  as  in  the  cere- 
monies of  the  Tendai :  (1)  all  the  Buddhas,  (2) 
Sakyamuni,  (3)  Amitabha,  (4)  Kwannon,  Seishi, 
and  the  other  Mahabodhisattvas. 

Tambtitsu  no  ge,  or  hymn  of  praise  for  all  the 
Buddhas : 

'The  handsome  physical  bodies  of  the  Tathagatas  are  un- 
paralleled in  the  Universe.  They  are  incomparable  beyond 
conception.  Therefore,  behold,  I  worship  them.  The  physical 
bodies  of  the  Tathagatas  are  inexhaustible  and  everlasting,  and 
their  Wisdom  is  as  their  bodies.  Dharmas  are  infinite.  There- 
fore I  take  refuge  in  them.' 

Ryakusange,  or  abridged  form  of  confession  : 
'All  the  evil  karmas,'  etc.,  as  in  the  Zen  and  Tendai. 

Sankikai,  or  the  threefold  Taking  of  Refuge  : 
'I  take  refuge  in  Buddha  .  .  .  Dharma  .  .  .  Sangha.' 

The  ceremony  of  tonsure.  While  the  head  of 
the  corpse  is  being  shaved,  the  name  of  Aniitabha 
is  being  repeated  ten  times.  This  is  known  as 
Junen.  The  number  of  repetitions  shows  that 
the  shaving  occupies  only  a  short  time.  It  is 
merely  symbolical.  In  the  Shinshu  sect  there  is 
a  ceremony  called  Kamisori,  'head-shaving,' 
roughly  corresponding  to  Christian  confirmation, 
which  implies  a  formal  acceptance  of  and  admission 
into  the  sect.  It  is  administered  by  the  head  of 
the  sect  only,  and  consists  in  passing  a  golden 
razor  lightly  over  the  hair  of  the  candidates  as 
they  kneel  before  him.  The  ceremonial  shaving 
of  the  dead  is  very  often  nothing  more  than  this. 

Kaikyoge,  or  hymn  introductory  to  the  reading 
of  the  Scriptures : 

'The  Law,  which  is  pre-eminent,  profound,  and  sought  out,1 
can  rarely  be  met  with,  scarcely  once  in  a  thousand  kalpas 
["ages  of  the  world"].  But  we  have  seen  and  heard,  and  do 
accept  it  May  we  understand  the  true  meaning  of  the  Tatha- 
gata's  teaching  I ' 

Reading  of  a  Sutra — generally  a  chapter  from 
the  Amitayurdhyana  Sutra,  or  the  Aparimitayus 
Sutra.  Sometimes  also  the  Amitabhatathagata- 
muladharani  is  read  : 

'  In  accordance  with  the  Original  Vow  of  the  Buddha  we  pray 
that  we  may  hear  His  Name,  and  be  re-born  in  the  Land  of  Bliss. 
On  being  re-born  in  that  land,  may  we  all  obtain  the  safe 
position  from  which  there  is  no  falling  back  I  The  84,000  doors,2 
each  different  from  the  others,  were  opened  as  means  of 
escape  from  ignorance,  karma,  and  the  results  of  karma.  A 
sharp  sword  verily  is  the  name  of  Amitabha  Buddha.  He  that 
shall  invoke  it  but  once  and  meditate  thereon, — Ms  sins  shall  be 
destroyed  for  ever.' 

Hotsugwanmon,  or  the  raising  of  vows  : 

'  Humbly  we  pray  that  our  minds,  at  the  hour  of  death, 
may  be  undistracted,  unconfused,  and  in  possession  of  all  their 
faculties.  With  mind  and  body  free  from  pain  and  filled  with 
joy,  in  the  state  of  contemplation,  and  in  the  presence  of  the 
Holy  Ones  (Amitabha  and  his  25  Bodhisattvas),  by  the  merits 
of  the  Buddha's  Vow,  may  we  have  a  favourable  re-birth  in  the 
Land  of  Amitabha. 

On  being  re-born  in  thit  land,  may  we  obtain  the  Sixfold 
Supernatural  Power  (roku  jin-dzu),  which  shall  enable  us  to 
assume  visible  forms  at  will  and  to  manifest  ourselves  in  the 
Worlds  of  the  Ten  Quarters  for  the  Salvation  of  mankind.  The 
Sky  and  the  Law  are  intnite  in  extent;  our  vows  are  co- 


1  Not  in  the  Biblical  sense  of  '  sought  out  of  them  that  have 
pleasure  therein.'  The  allusion  is  to  the  Vow  of  Amitabha, 
which  was  framed  after  a  careful  survey  and  examination  of  al> 
the  Buddha-fields. 

2  i.e.  the  doctrines  of  Buddhism.- 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Japanese) 


496 


extensive  with  them.     With  these  vows  we  take   refuse   in 
Aniitabha  Buddha  with  our  whole  hearts. 
Kdmyo  henjo 
Jippo  sekai 
Nembutsu  shujo 
Sesshitfusha, 
Shining  upon  all  the  worlds  in  the  Ten  Quarters  with  the 
bright  rays  issuing  from  his  halo,  the  Buddha  accepts  the 
beings  who  call  upon  him.     He  will  never  abandon  them.' 
Invocation  of  Amida's  name. 
Eko,  '  transference ' : 

(1)  Special :  '  May  the  soul  of  the  newly-deceased  N.  (kaimyS) 
migrate  to  the  pure  fields,  and  may  his  karma  give  up  dust- 
like trouble  I  May  he  see  Buddha,  hear  the  Law,  and  rapidly 
reach  the  pre-eminent  way  1 ' 

(2)  General :  '  May  the  merits  resulting  from  this  service  be 
transferred  to  all  sentient  beings  alive  1  May  they  all  lift  up 
their  hearts  to  Enlightenment,  and  all  be  re-born  in  the  land  of 
ease  and  comfort ! ' 

Shinseigwan,  or  Four  Holy  Vows  (see  Tendai 
rites). 

Sanrai,  or  Worship  of  the  Three  Precious 
Things :  Namu  Amida  butsu  is  repeated  nine 
times,  three  times  for  each. 

This  concludes  the  service  in  the  house.  The 
procession  is  now  formed  and  starts  for  the 
temple. 

(2)  The  service  in  the  temple  is  almost  a  replica 
of  that  in  the  house.  It  begins  with  gongyoshiki, 
samborai,  shibujo,  ryakusange,  and  tambutsu  no  ge 
(see  above).  Then  follow  the  beating  of  cymbals 
(nyohachi),  the  indb,  or  '  guiding  words,'  kaikyoge, 
the  reading  of  Scriptures,  kdmyo  henjo,  etc.,  the 
invocation  of  Buddha's  name,  and  another  eko  : 

'  May  the  merits  arising  from  this  chanting  of  the  Sutra  and 
the  invocation  of  Buddha's  name  be  transferred  to  the  newly- 
deceased  N.    May  his  soul  migrate,'  etc. 

(The  rest  as  in  the  eko  above.) 

Then  follow  invocations  of  Amida's  name,  the 
Four  Holy  Vows  (as  in  Tendai),  and  the  adoration 
of  the  horizon,  or  image  of  Amitabha.  This  brings 
the  service  to  a  close. 

5.  Ceremonies  of  the  Shinshu. — The  Shinshu 
sect,  founded  by  Shinran  Shonin  in  A.D.  1224, 
carries  still  further  than  the  Jodo  the  doctrine  of 
salvation  by  Faith  only.  The  account  of  the  cere- 
monies described  in  this  section  is  taken  from  the 
Fuzokugwaho  for  Feb.  1894,  and  gives  a  summary 
new  of  the  obsequies  of  Kosho,  the  21st  Abbot  of 
the  Eastern  Hongwanji,  who  died  at  Kyoto  on  15th 
Jan.  1894. 

(1)  The  worship  of  the  corpse. — This  ceremony  is 
not  peculiar  to  the  Shinshu  sect,  but  is  observed  in 
the  case  of  all  monks  and  priests  [the  Shinshu 
clergy  are  not  monks ;  they  marry  and  live  with 
their  families];  but  naturally,  in  the  case  of  the 
head  of  a  great  organization,  such  as  the  Hong- 
wanji, the  ceremonies  connected  with  this  worship 
were  more  carefully  carried  out  than  usual. 

Three  days  after  death,  the  corpse  was  dressed 
in  silk  crgpe  robes  of  a  grey  colour,  with  a  small 
kesa  ('stole ')  over  the  shoulders,  and  was  placed  in 
a  sitting  posture  on  a  kyokuroku  ('camp-chair') 
in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  Abbot's  official  residence. 
The  face  was  covered  with  a  white  cloth,  so  that 
only  the  eyes  were  visible.  Screens  were  set  up 
behind  the  chair  and  on  either  side  of  it,  and  in 
front  there  was  a  slight  curtain  of  split  bamboo, 
which  could  easily  be  drawn  up  and  down.  Six 
laymen,  in  kamishimo  (upper  and  nether  cere- 
monial garments)  of  a  grey  colour,  were  constantly 
in  attendance,  to  draw  up  the  curtain  whenever  a 
group  of  worshippers  presented  themselves.  Many 
thousands  of  Shinshu  believers  thus  offered  their 
last  respects  to  the  deceased  prelate,  the  worship 
consisting  of  a  silent  prostration  before  the  corpse. 

On  the  following  day  the  corpse  was  put  into  a 
coffin  and  removed  to  another  apartment,  where 
similar  worship  was  offered  before  it.  In  this 
case,  however,  a  scroll-picture  of  Amitabha  was 
suspended  on  the  wall  behind  the  coffin,  to  repre- 
sent the  idea  that  the  deceased  had  now  passed 


definitely  under  Amitabha's  protection.  Immense 
crowds  of  worshippers  from  every  part  of  Jnpan 
came  to  worship. 

(2)  The  farewell  to  the  corpse. — This  took  place 
on  the  following  day.  Three  short  ceremonies 
were  observed,  the  first  in  the  apartment  where 
the  coffin  had  been  lying  in  state  since  the  previous 
day.  It  was  then  removed  to  the  daishido,  or  hall 
set  apart  for  the  worship  of  Shinran  Shonin,  the 
founder  of  the  sect,  and  from  there  to  the  Amidado, 
or  Hall  of  Amida.  In  each  of  these  places  a  ser- 
vice was  held,  consisting  very  largely  of  repetitions 
of  the  Namu  Amida  butsu1  and  the  burning  of 
incense.  Not  unnaturally  the  third  service  was 
esteemed  the  most  dignified.  Not  only  blood  rela- 
tions, but  proxies  representing  the  princes  of  the 
blood,  and  the  heads  of  other  subdivisions  of  the 
Shinshu,  came  forward  to  burn  incense,  and,  im- 
mediately after  this  last  ceremony  was  over,  the 
procession  was  formed  and  the  funeral  cortege 
started  for  Uchino,  where  the  main  obsequies  were 
to  take  place. 

(3)  The  procession  need  not  delay  us.  It  was  on 
the  same  general  lines  as  the  procession  mentioned 
at  the  beginning  of  this  section  (above,  p.  4S9a). 
Only,  as  befitting  a  personage  who,  in  addition 
to  being  the  hereditary  head  of  one  of  the  largest 
of  the  Buddhist  sects  in  Japan,  was  a  peer  of  the 
realm,  and  a  collateral  descendant  of  the  great 
Fujiwara  family,  it  was,  of  course,  a  very  im- 
posing procession,  more  than  a  mile  in  length. 

(4)  The  service  at  Uchino.—  Uchino  was  in 
former  days  the  cremation-place  connected  with 
the  Eastern  Hongwanji  temple.  But  the  growth 
of  the  city  has  rendered  it  unsuitable  for  the 
purpose.  In  the  case,  however,  of  the  funeral 
of  an  Abbot,  there  are  historical  reasons  why  a 
part  of  the  service  should  still  be  held  there.  An 
open  space  had  therefore  been  curtained  off,  large 
enough  to  seat  the  great  number  of  invited  guests, 
and  it  was  here  that  that  part  of  the  service  took 
place  which  in  ordinary  cases  would  be  held  in  the 
temple.  (The  farewell  to  the  corpse,  thrice  re- 
peated, corresponded  to  the  service  in  the  house 
at  ordinary  funerals.  It  followed,  then,  almost 
exactly  the  same  order  as  is  observed  in  Jodo 
funerals.)  A  temporary  crematorium  had  been 
erected  for  the  symbolic  cremation  to  be  held  here. 
The  chief  mourners  were  the  new  Abbot  and  his 
wife  (the  urakata).  The  actual  cremation  took 
place  later  at  Kwazan,  where  the  regular  crema- 
torium is  situated. 

The  service,  which  was  of  the  regular  type,2 
followed  the  usual  order  : 
The  Four  Invitations. 
The  Shoshinge.3 

Nembutsu  wasan,*  or  hymn  in  praise  of  Buddha, 
followed  by  invocations  of  Amida's  name. 
Eko,  as  in  Jodo  sect,  with  the  following  addition  : 
'  Gwannishi  Kudoku, 
Eyodose  issai, 
Dohotsu  bodaishin, 
Ojo  anrakukoku, 
We  pray  that  the  merit  of  this  service  may  be  given  equally 
to  all  sentient  beings,  that  they  may  lift  up  their  minds  to  the 
attainment  of  enlightenment,  and  ascend  for  re-birth  in  the 
Land  of  Ease  and  Comfort.' 

1  It  is  to  be  noted  that  the  common  interpretation  given  to 
these  words  is  '  Believe  in  (trust)  me  ;  for  I  will  save  you.'  This 
meaning,  which  has  been  read  into,  not  out  of,  the  Sanskrit 
words,  is  interesting. 

2  In  the  memorial  service  held  by  the  Shinshu  in  Tokyo  in 
honour  of  King  Edward  vn.,  the  form  approximated  much 
more  closely  to  the  Tendai  ritual.  The  explanation  of  this  will 
be  found  in  the  Tendai  origin  of  the  Shinshu,  and  also  in  the 
fact  that  it  was  not  a  funeral  service  proper. 

8  This  is  a  poem  by  Shinran  Shonin  giving  an  account  of  the 
transmission  of  the  Amida  doctrines.  For  text  and  tr.  Bee 
Lloyd,  Shinran  and  his  Work,  p.  35. 

4  Wasan  are  hymns  of  praise  composed  in  Japanese.  The 
Shinshu  sect,  which,  to  its  credit,  has  always  used  the  vernacular 
whenever  possible,  is  particularly  rich  in  these  hymns,  some  ol 
which  are  of  very  great  interest. 


496 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Japanese) 


Symbolical  cremation.  The  Abbot  entered  the 
temporary  crematorium  and  lighted  some  straw, 
and,  as  the  smoke  issued  from  the  building,  it  was 
accepted  as  an  actual  cremation.  This  was,  of 
course,  a  special  feature  of  this  particular  funeral. 

Shoshinge  again. 

Burning  of  incense  by  mourners,  etc. 

The  coffin  was  now  removed  for  the  actual 
cremation. 

(5)  The  cremation.1 — This  was  carried  out  semi- 
privately  at  Kwazan,  only  the  new  abbot,  near 
relatives,  old  body-servants,  and  the  superin- 
tendent of  the  crematorium  being  admitted  into 
the  curtained-off  space  around  the  furnace.  The 
pyre  was  made  of  pine  logs  skilfully  arranged  on 
a  hearthstone,  and  was  attended  to  by  four  master- 
carpenters  in  white  robes,  overlooked  by  two  priests 
in  black.  The  Abbot,  as  chief  mourner,  having 
already,  as  we  have  seen,  symbolically  lighted  the 
fire,  it  was  apparently  not  necessary  for  him  to  do 
it  actually  on  this  occasion ;  though  in  ordinary 
funerals  this  is  a  duty  which  always  falls  upon 
the  chief  mourner.  It  must  be  a  '  pure '  fire  (no 
sulphur  or  brimstone  to  be  used  in  the  kindling), 
and,  when  once  kindled,  is  kept  alive  not  only 
with  additional  fuel,  but  also  by  constant  libations 
of  natane  abura  ('rape-seed  oil').  It  is  desirable 
that  the  coffin,  as  in  this  case,  should  be  so  thick 
that  the  body  inside  may  be  completely  consumed 
before  the  sides  of  the  coffin  fall  in  ;  but  this  is,  of 
course,  merely  a  counsel  of  perfection  not  applicable 
in  all  cases. 

When  the  cremation  was  over,  the  remains  were 
reverently  collected,  with  a  short  service  (not  used 
in  ordinary  cases),  put  into  a  small  box,  covered 
with  a  white  silk  cloth,  and  carried  back  to  the 
late  Abbot's  residence,  where  they  were  privately 
disposed  of  in  a  suitable  manner.  A  certain 
amount  of  secrecy  was  observed  on  this  occasion. 
There  existed  for  many  centuries  a  bitter  feud 
between  the  parent  sect  of  the  Tendai  and  her 
more  prosperous  but  rebellious  daughter,  the 
Shinshu.  When  Rennyo  Shonin,  the  greatest  of 
all  the  successors  of  Shinran,  died  in  A.D.  1499, 
the  jealous  Tendai  monks  made  an  assault  on  the 
procession  that  was  carrying  home  the  sacred  relics, 
and  tried  to  seize  and  dishonour  them.  Since  that 
time  it  has  been  customary,  at  the  cremation  of 
a  Hongwanji  Abbot,  to  bring  the  ashes  home  in 
secret,  by  some  circuitous  route,  and  under  guard. 

In  collecting  the  bones,  etc.,  after  a  cremation, 
it  is  customary  to  pick  them  up  with  chop-sticks, 
one  of  wood,  and  one  of  bamboo.  Hence,  in 
ordinary  life  it  is  deemed  most  unlucky  to  use 
chop-sticks  of  different  materials,  e.g.  one  of  wood 
and  one  of  bone.  Shingon  believers  send  the  bones 
to  Koyasan ;  amongst  the  Shinshuists  in  Echigo 
and  Shinshu  they  are  often  preserved  in  the  house. 
In  most  cases,  however,  they  are  interred.  Great 
efficacy  is  sometimes  attributed  to  these  relics 
(shari). 

6.  Ceremonies  of  the  Nichiren  sect. — The  Ni- 
chiren  sect,  founded  in  A.D.  1253,  differs  from  all 
other  sects  of  Buddhism  in  that  it  concentrates 
the  whole  of  its  attention  on  the  Saddharmapun- 
darika Sutra,  which  it  almost  personifies.  This 
Sutra  consists  of  two  parts,  known  as  Shakumon 
(chs.  i.-xiv.)  and  Hommon  (chs.  xv.-end) ;  and  the 
peculiar  position  of  the  Nichiren  School  is  that 
for  it  the  latter  is  the  most  important  portion  of 
the  Sutra,  while  all  other  Japanese  sects  lay  special 
stress  on  the  former.  Nichiren  himself  claimed 
to  be  the  first  of  the  Four  Great  Bodhisattvas  men- 
tioned in  the  latter  part  of  that  Sutra  as  rising 
out  of  the  earth  at  the  head  of  a  large  company 

1  The  Japanese  word  for  '  cremation '  is  dabi.  It  comes  from 
the  Pali  jhape  (causal  of  jhaya,  'to  burn '),  and  is  one  of  the  few 
instances  of  Lhe  Burvival  of  a  Pali  word  in  Japanese. 


of  believers.  The  services  are  very  long ;  but 
they  admit  of  condensed  statement,  because  they 
consist  almost  entirely  of  readings  from  the  Sad- 
dharmapundarika Sutra. 

(1)  The  house  ceremonies. — (a)  Makuragyo,  en- 
trusted to  a  minor  priest  (shokeso). 

Kwanjomon,  or  words  of  Invitation  : 

'  We  humbly  invite  Juryo,1  the  horizon  (principal  idol)  of  the 
True  Teaching,2  to  be  present. 

Glory  to  the  Saddharmapundarika  Sutra,  in  which  are  con- 
tained the  Three  Mysteries  of  the  True  Teaching.  3 

Glory  to  Sakyamuni-Buddha,  who  is  the  great  benefactor  of 
sentient  beings,  who  accomplished  enlightenment  before  in- 
numerable ages,  and  who  alone  is  the  Master  of  the  Teachings.4 

Glory  to  the  Buddha  Taho,5  who  certified  to  the  teachings  of 
the  Saddharmapundarika  Sutra. 

Glory  to  the  Buddhas  mentioned  in  the  Hommon  ('  Real 
Teaching' — see  above),  as  also  to  those  spoken  of  in  the 
Shakumon  ('  Temporary  Teaching '),  in  this  and  in  other  worlds. 
Glory  to  the  Great  Bodhisattvas  in  the  thousand  worlds,  who 
were  taught  by  the  Buddhas  of  the  Hommon,  and  who  issued 
forth  in  troops  out  of  the  earth,  when  the  Kenhotohon  was  being 
preached. 

Glory  to  the  Three  Everlasting  Precious  Things  mentioned  in 
the  Saddh.  Sutra,  in  which  the  Temporal  Buddhas  are  secreted 
(swallowed  up)  and  the  True  Buddha  revealed. 

Glory  to  Nichiren,6  the  Great  One,  the  founder  of  the  sect, 
our  mighty  leader,  who  has  been  entrusted  by  Sakyamuni  with 
the  Secrets  of  the  True  Doctrine. 

Glory  to  the  successive  Patriarchs  (of  Nichirenism). 

May  all  the  Devas  and  good  gods,  the  protectors  of  the  True 
Faith,  descend  upon  the  altar  and  watch  our  worship. ' 

Reading  of  Hobenhon,  sect.  2  of  Saddh.  Sutra. 
,,  Juryohon,  sect.  16         ,,  ,, 

Much  repetition  of  the  Daimoku,  or  the  true 
standard  of  faith  and  worship  (Namumyohorenge- 
kyo, '  Glory  to  the  Lotus-Scripture  of  the  Wonderful 
Law '). 

Eko,  'prayer  of  transference.'  The  gist  of  the 
prayer  is  that,  by  the  virtue  of  the  Sutra,  sentient 
beings  may  attain  to  Buddha-ship  in  their  bodies. 

Bestowal  of  a  Kaimyo.  This  service  may  be 
performed  before  or  after  death,  or  may  be  entirely 
omitted.  It  is  of  great  importance  to  the  student, 
as  giving  the  doctrinal  position  of  the  Nichiren 
body. 

(b)  The  wake  (otogi).  This  is  also  entrusted  to 
a  minor  priest.  The  whole  of  the  Saddharma- 
pundarika is  chanted  once,  or  sect.  16  thirty-six 
times.  Sermons  are  delivered  at  intervals — for 
the  edification  both  of  the  living  and  of  the  dead. 

The  tonsure.  A  leaf  of  shikimi  is  cut  with  a 
razor  over  the  head  of  the  deceased. 

(c)  The  home  funeral  service,  by  one  or  more 
minor  priests.  Five  banners  are  prepared  and  set 
up,  inscribed  as  follows  : 

(1)  '  Glory  to  Prabhutaratna,  to  the  Saddh.  Sutra,  to  Sakyamuni, 
to  Nichiren,  the  Great  Superior  Teacher  of  the  Latter  Days.' 

(2)  '  Glory  to  Jogyobosatsu,'  i.e.  to  the  Nichiren,  first  of  the 
Four  Great  Bodhisattvas. 

(3)  'Glory  to  Muhengyobosatsu,'  second  of  the  Four  Great 
Bodhisattvas. 

(4)  '  Glory  to  Jogyobosatsu,'  third  of  the  Four  Great  Bodhi- 
sattvas. 

(5)  '  Glory  to  Anryugyobosatsu,'  fourth  of  the  Four  Great 
Bodhisattvas. 

Four  smaller  banners  are  also  prepared  and  set 
up,  and  inscribed  as  follows  : 

1  Juryo  is  a  portion  of  the  Saddh.  Sutra  personified  (sect.  26), 
and  treated  as  the  embodiment  of  the  Deity. 

2  Nichirenists  maintain  that  there  are  three  stages  of  Buddhist 
Teaching— the  Smaller  Vehicle,  the  larger,  and  the  True 
(Jitsujo). 

3  The  Three  Mysteries  are  :  (1)  The  revelation  of  the  true 
object  of  human  worship  made  in  the  Sutra,  (2)  the  establish- 
ment of  the  true  standard  of  faith  and  worship,  (3)  the  true 
teachings  of  morality. 

4  Observe  that  the  Sakyamuni  of  Nichirenism  is  only  in- 
cidentally the  historical  Gautama. 

6  Taho  (Skr.  Prabhutaratna)  is  a  Buddha,  previous  to  Sakya- 
muni,  who,  in  the  Saddh.,  is  seen  descending  upon  the  latter  as 
he  teaches,  in  a  stupa ;  who  is  dead,  then  revives,  and,  after 
commending  the  teachings  which  Sakyamuni  is  giving  in  the 
Sutra,  becomes  in  some  mysterious  way  identified  with  him. 
This  account  appears  in  Kenhotohon  ('  opening  of  the  stupa '), 
the  12th  sectionof  the  Saddh.  Sutra  (Chinese).  It  is  to  be 
noticed  that  Taho's  Paradise  is  represented  as  in  the  East. 

6  Nichiren  is  supposed  to  have  had  the  power  of_  teaching 
committed  to  him  by  virtue  of  his  being  a  re-incamation  of  tee 
first  of  the  Four  Great  Bodhisattvas. 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Jewish) 


497 


(1)  Kaibutchiken,  i.e. '  May  the  deceased  attain  to  the  opening 
of  a  supernatural  insight  like  that  of  Buddha  I ' 

(2)  Jibutchiken  .  .  .  '  May  he  show  forth  a  .  .  .  etc.  .  .  .  1 ' 

(3)  Gobutchiken  .  .  .  'May  he  understand,  more  and  more 
.  .  .  etc.  1 ' 

(4)  Nyubutchiken  .  .  .  '  May  he  enter  into  .  .  .  etc.  .  .  .  I ' 
Whilst  the  banners  are  being  set  up,  the  priests 

read — ■ 

Hobenhon,  sect.  2  of  the  Saddh.  Sutra. 

Juryohon,  sect.  16      „  „  (or  only  its 

gathas). 

Eko,  as  before. 

(2)  Ceremonies  at  the  temple. — 

Kwanjomon  (see  above). 

Juryohon  (prose  sections  only). 

Beating  of  drums  and  cymbals. 

After  this  a  minor  priest  says  in  a  distinct 
voice  : 

1  Nyokyakukenyaku 
Kaidaijd'mon, 

Lo  I  the  Gate  of  the  Great  Castle  has  been  opened,  and  the 
bolt  has  been  taken  away '  (from  the  Eenhotohon,  sect.  12). 

Offerings. 

Indo,  pronounced  by  the  leader  (doshi). 

Chanting  the  gatha  portions  of  sect.  16  of  the 
Saddh.  Sutra. 

Incense. 

The  Daimoku,  oft  repeated. 

Eko. 

The  ceremonies  come  to  a  close.  There  seem  to 
be  no  ceremonies  specially  connected  with  cremation 
or  interment. 

See,  further,  art.  Festivals  (Japanese). 

Literature. — The  greater  part  of  this  article  is  based  on 
information  collected  for  the  writer  by  hie  friend  Mr.  S. 
Tachibana,  a  Buddhist  priest  of  the  Zen  sect.  The  other 
authorities  have  been  cited  in  the  text.  A.   LLOYD. 

DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 

(Jewish).  —  i.  Conception  of  death. — Although 
there  is  uniformity,  in  a  sense,  in  the  physical 
phenomena  of  death,  its  character  and  circum- 
stances and  the  impression  which  it  makes  vary 
in  different  times  and  places.  In  ancient  Israel, 
death,  like  life,  was  more  a  matter  of  the  family 
than  it  is  now ;  it  was  not  so  much  an  occasion 
when  an  external  professional  element,  repre- 
sented by  priests,  lawyers,  doctors,  nurses,  and 
hospitals,  broke  in  upon  or  set  aside  the  family. 
Again,  violent  deaths  were  more  common ;  and 
the  last  illness  of  a  dying  man  was  not  prolonged, 
as  it  is  now,  by  the  resources  of  medical  science. 
In  all  probability  the  death-rate  was  much  higher 
than  it  is  with  us,  so  that  death  was  more  common 
and  familiar. 

The  impression  made  by  death  depends  partly 
on  belief  as  to  its  cause  and  as  to  the  future  of 
the  individual  after  death.  The  modern  mind  is 
occupied  with  the  physical  cause  of  death,  the 
particular  disease,  and  the  failure  of  remedial  treat- 
ment. The  Israelite  and  the  Jew  thought  of  death 
as  an  act  of  God  ;  more  especially  a  death  in  early 
years,  or  in  the  prime  of  life,  or  under  exceptionally 
distressing  circumstances,  was  often  regarded  as  a 
judgment  upon  sin. 

Death1  was  not  the  annihilation  of  the  indi- 
vidual— at  any  rate,   according  to  the  ordinary 
Hebrew  view.     A  feeble  ghost  of  the  dead  man 
maintained  a  dim,  shadowy  existence  in  Sheol,  the 
under  world  or  Hades.    But  probably  in  early  times 
other  beliefs  supplemented  or  replaced  this  view. 
There  are  traces  of  ancestor-worship  and  necro- 
mancy in  ancient  Israel,  and  these  imply  that  the 
spirits  of  the  dead  could  manifest  themselves  to 
the  living,  and  could  exercise  some  influence  upon 
their  fortunes.     Samuel,  for  instance,  appeared  at 
the  call  of  the  witch  of  Endor  and  foretold  the 
death  of  Saul  (1  S  28).     Although  there  is  little 
ositive  evidence,  it  is  probable  that  the  popular 
^f.  W.  H.  Bennett,  Religion  of  the  Post-exilic  Prophets,  Edin- 
1907,  p.  361  ff. 
VOL.  IV. — 12 


belief  in  ghosts  prevailed  in  earlier  as  in  later 
times.  In  Lk  243m  the  Apostles  take  the  risen 
Lord  for  a  ghost. 

In  a  sense  the  Israelite  looked  forward  to  re- 
union after  death,  so  far  as  this  may  be  implied  in 
such  phrases  as  '  buried  with  his  fathers '  (2  K  1221), 
'slept  with  his  fathers'  (1  K  210) ;  but  there  is 
nothing  to  suggest  that  he  looked  forward  to  any 
satisfying  fellowship  with  his  deceased  brethren 
in  a  future  life.  Thus,  for  all  practical  purposes, 
death  was  a  final  parting. 

As  regards  what  happened  to  the  individual 
when  he  breathed  his  last,  death  was  thought  of 
as  the  departure  of  the  nephesh  (<r£>j),  or  vital  prin- 
ciple ; 1  though,  curiously  enough,  nephesh  is  some- 
times used  in  the  sense  of  '  corpse '  (Lv  1928  211  224 
[all  H],  Nu  52  611  910  [all  P],  Hag  213). 

Probably  various  primitive  views  prevailed  in 
ancient  Israel  as  to  death  and  the  individual  after 
death,  and  these  views  were  connected  with  general 
Semitic  mythology ;  but  the  editors  of  the  OT 
eliminated  accounts  of  such  crude  superstitions,  in 
the  interests  of  orthodoxy  and  edification,  so  that 
only  a  few  traces  remain.  A  familiar  myth  is  the 
death  and  resurrection  of  a  god.  Traces  of  this 
are  found  in  the  women  weeping  for  Tammuz  ( Ezk 
814).  According  to  Gressmann,2  the  account  of  the 
death  and  resurrection  of  the  Servant  of  Jahweh 
in  Is  53  is  based  on  some  such  myth ;  of  this 
possibly  other  traces  are  found  in  the  references  to 
rn;  hiK,  '  mourning  for  an  only  son.3 

The  later  books  of  the  OT  contain  hints  of  a 
resurrection,  which  develop  in  the  later  literature, 
especially  in  the  Wisdom  of  Solomon  and  the 
Apocalypses,  into  an  express  doctrine,  so  that  for 
later  Judaism  and  for  Christianity — following 
Judaism — death  became  the  portal  to  a  future 
life.  When  Judaism  evolved  a  hierarchy  of  angels, 
with  proper  names  and  special  functions,  there 
appeared  among  the  rest,  Sammael,  the  Angel 
of  Death.  See  Demons  and  Spirits  (Heb.)  and 
(Jewish). 

Later  Judaism  inherited  or  developed  many 
curious  fancies  as  to  the  hour  of  death  ;  as,  for 
instance,  that  the  dying  soul  has  a  vision  of  the 
Shekinah  just  before  its  departure.  Ben  Kaphra, 
a  RaMii  of  the  early  Christian  centuries,  is  quoted 
as  saying : 

'  For  three  days  the  spirit  hovers  about  the  tomb,  if  per- 
chance it  may  return  to  the  body.  But,  when  it  sees  the 
fashion  of  the  countenance  changed,  it  retires  and  abandons 
the  body '  (cf.  Expos.  Gr.  Test.  [1897]  on  Jn  11«). 

2.  Disposal  of  the  dead. — The  regular  and  legiti- 
mate mode  of  dealing  with  a  corpse  in  ancient 
Israel  was  burial,  and  this  has  always  remained 
the  general  custom  of  the  Jews.  Embalming  was 
not  an  Israelite  practice ;  when  we  read  that 
Jacob  and  Joseph  were  embalmed  (Gn  502, 26))  we 
must  clearly  understand  that  they  were  treated  as 
Egyptians,  amongst  whom  embalming  was  the 
regular  custom.  In  later  times  we  are  told  that 
the  body  of  Aristobulus  was  embalmed  in  honey 
(Jos.  Ant.  XIV.  vii.  4).  Embalming  in  the  strict 
sense  must  be  distinguished  from  the  Jewish 
custom  referred  to  in  2  Ch  1614  and  in  NT  (Jn 
1939t-  etc.)  of  anointing  the  dead  body  and  placing 
it  in  or  wrapping  it  up  in  spices.  Cremation, 
amongst  the  Israelites,  was  exceptional.  Accord- 
ing to  1  S  3112,  the  men  of  Jabesh-Gilead  burned 
the  bodies  of  Saul  and  his  sons,  probably  to  pre- 
vent their  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Philistines. 
The  fact  that  1  Ch  1012  omits  the  burning,  and 
that  Josephus  (VI.  xiv.  8)  states  that  the  bodies 
were  buried,  is  probably  evidence  of  the  repug- 

1  W.  H.  Bennett,  op.  eit.  228  ff. 

2  Der  Ursprung  der  isr.-jiid.  Eschatologie,  Gottingen,  1905, 
p.  328  ff . 

3  Am  810,  Jer  62&,  Zee  1210  ;  0f.  Cheyne,  The  Two  Religions  of 
Israel,  London,  1911,  p.  211. 


498 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Jewish) 


nance  of  the  Jews,  at  any  rate  in  later  times,  to 
the  cremation  of  the  dead.  The  EV  of  Am  610 
speaks  of  '  he  that  burnetii '  a  corpse ;  but  the 
reference  to  burning  the  corpse  is  due  to  corrup- 
tion or  misunderstanding  of  the  text.  In  some 
cases,  however,  criminals  were  burnt  alive  (Gn 
38M,  Lv  2014  219),  or  their  corpses  were  burnt  (Jos 
716,25).  The  picture  in  Is  66M  of  the  corpses  of 
sinners  consumed  by  fire  may  have  been  suggested 
by  the  actual  treatment  of  dead  criminals.  Ac- 
cording to  Kimchi1  there  were  perpetual  fires  in 
the  Valley  of  Hinnom  for  consuming  dead  bodies 
of  criminals  and  animals.  In  Am  21  the  burning 
of  the  bones  of  the  king  of  Edom  is  an  outrage 
which  calls  down  inexorable  doom  on  Moab. 

Exposure  without  burial  was  a  disgrace  and  a 
misfortune.  Criminals  or  their  representatives 
might  be  so  treated  (2  S  219'-),  but,  according  to 
Dt  21~'-,  even  their  corpses  were  to  be  buried. 
Such  a  misfortune  might  befall  sinners  as  the 
judgment  of  God  (1  K  14",  Jer  7s3,  Ezk  295,  Ps  793). 
To  bury  relatives,  and  even  strangers,  was  a 
supreme  duty ;  it  is  specially  insisted  on  in  To 
1.  2,  and  is  illustrated  by  the  story  of  Rizpah 
(2  S  2110'-).  Job  complains  that  God  allows  the 
wicked  man  to  have  an  honourable  burial  (Job 
2132t).  The  desecration  of  a  grave  was  a  kind  of 
posthumous  punishment  (2  K  2316,  Jer  81'-). 

There  is  not  much  evidence  in  the  OT  of  graves 
dug  in  the  earth  in  the  modern  fashion,  though 
doubtless  such  were  often  used.  The  labours  of 
the  various  Palestine  Exploration  Societies  show 
that  rock-hewn  tombs  were  exceedingly  common  ; 
they  usually  occur  in  groups.  A  space  for  a  single 
corpse  is  hewn  in  the  face  of  a  rock  and  closed 
with  a  stone  slab  ;  this  space  was  called  a  kuk,  ^3 
( Jastrow,  Diet,  of  the  Targumim,  1886-1903,  s.v. ), 
by  the  Jews  in  later  times.  These  are  found 
grouped  in  one  or  more  chambers  in  natural  or 
artificial  caves.  One  of  the  most  interesting 
examples  of  such  a  burying-place  is  the  cave 
of  Machpelah,  where  Sarah,  Abraham,  Isaac, 
Rebekah,  Leah,  and  Jacob  are  said  to  have  been 
buried  (Gn  2319  259  4931  5013).  Masonry  tombs  with 
groups  of  kUkim  are  also  found ;  and  sometimes 
monuments  were  erected  over  tombs  ;  for  instance, 
Simon  the  Maccabee  built  an  elaborate  mausoleum 
at  Modin  for  his  father  and  brother  (1  Mac  1327"29), 
no  trace  of  which  has  yet  been  discovered. 

In  ancient  times  each  family,  like  that  of  the 

Eatriarchs,  had  its  own  burying-place.  Such 
nrying-places  would  naturally  be  on  the  family 
estate.  We  read  of  Manasseh  being  buried  in  the 
garden  of  his  own  house,  and  Amon  in  the  garden 
of  Uzza  (2  K  2118-28).  But  usually  the  kings  of 
Judah  were  buried  in  a  royal  burying-place  in  the 
city  of  David :  e.g.  Joash  (2  K  1221),  apparently 
near  the  Temple  (Ezk  437-9),  the  Temple  being  in 
ancient  times  an  adjunct  of  the  royal  palace. 
Obviously  dwellers  in  towns,  who  had  not  exten- 
sive gardens,  would  be  required,  as  in  later  times, 
to  bury  their  dead  outside  the  walls.  Poorer 
people  would  have  no  family  burying-place,  and  we 
read  of  a  public  cemetery,  '  the  graves  of  the  benS 
ha  am'  (2  K  236,  Jer  2623).  Apparently  a  measure 
of  disgrace  attached  to  burial  there,  '  in  a  pauper's 
grave,'  so  to  speak. 

The  family  desired  to  be  together  in  death  as  in 
life,  and  men  were  anxious  to  '  sleep  with  their 
fathers,'  i.e.  to  be  buried  in  the  family  tomb.  It 
is  part  of  the  punishment  of  Pashhur  that  he  is  to 
be  buried  in  Chaldtea  (Jer  206) ;  and  the  Chronicler, 
in  contradiction  to  the  Book  of  Kings,  states  that 
certain  wicked  kings  of  Judah— Jehoram  and 
Joash — were  not  buried  in  the  sepulchres  of  the 
kings  (2  Ch  212»  2425).  In  post-Biblical  times  the 
Jews  have  had  their  own  cemeteries.  They  still 
1  Cf.  Sir  C.  Warren,  in  HDB  ii.  385. 


retain  their  anxiety  to  be  buried  with  their  own 
people.  Jews  who  are  lax  in  many  religious 
matters  will  keep  the  Day  of  Atonement  in  order 
that  they  may  be  buried  in  a  Jewish  cemetery. 

A  certain  sanctity  attached  to  the  graves  of 
ancient  saints  and  heroes,  and  probably,  as  amongst 
the  Muhammadans,  such  tombs  became  shrines ; 
e.g.  the  tomb  of  Joseph  at  Shechem  (Jos  2432),  and 
the  tomb  of  the  patriarchs  at  Machpelah.  Necro- 
mancy and  similar  superstitions  were  often  con- 
nected with  graves  (Is  654). 

On  the  other  hand,  the  grave  is  unclean  (Lk  ll44). 
In  later  times,  at  least,  cemeteries  were  supposed 
to  be  special  haunts  of  evil  spirits  ;  and  the  spirits 
of  the  dead  lingered  there,  at  any  rate  till  the 
corpse  had  been  assimilated  to  the  soil.  This 
belief,  that  the  spirits  of  the  dead  inhabit  the 
tombs,  is  found  in  most  primitive  religions,  and 
was  probably  prevalent  amongst  the  Israelites  in 
early  times. 

3.  Mourning  and  other  observances. — Numerous 
passages  illustrate  the  distress  caused  to  the  Jews 
by  bereavement :  the  mourning  of  Jacob  over  the 
supposed  death  of  Joseph  (Gn  37s5) ;  of  David  over 
Absalom  (2  S  183S) ;  Rachel  refusing  to  be  com- 
forted (Jer  3116).  The  behaviour  of  David,  who 
fasted  and  wept  when  his  child  was  dying,  but 
arose  and  ate  when  it  was  dead,  was  a  puzzle  to 
his  courtiers ;  his  explanation,  that  lamentation 
was  useless,  hardly  seems  adequate  (2  S  1216ff-). 

The  feelings,  sentiments,  and  ideas  called  forth 
by  death  gave  rise  to  various  burial  and  mourning 
customs.  Decease  was  and  is  followed  by  the 
necessary  arrangements  for  the  seemly  'laying 
out '  of  the  corpse.  The  eyes  and  mouth  are  closed 
(Gn  464,  Jn  ll44),  and  the  body  is  washed  (Ac  9s7). 
It  has  been  supposed  that  the  dead  were,  sometimes 
at  any  rate,  buried  in  their  usual  dress,  with  their 
arms  and  ornaments ;  Samuel  appears  to  the  witeh 
of  Endor  in  his  mantle  (1  S  2814),  and  the  dead  go 
down  to  Sheol  with  their  weapons  and  their 
'  pomp '  (|tap).  The  practice  certainly  prevailed  in 
later  times.  Thus  Herod  buried  ornaments  with 
the  body  of  Aristobulus  (Jos.  Ant.  XV.  iii.  4) ; 
treasures  were  said  to  have  been  buried  with  David 
(XVI.  vii.  1) ;  Herod  was  buried  covered  with  purple, 
with  his  diadem,  crown,  and  sceptre  (XVTI.  viii.  3 ; 
BJ I.  xxxiii.  9).  We  are  told  that  in  later  times  such 
practices  led  to  great  extravagance,  so  that  Rabbi 
Gamaliel  II.  ordained  that  corpses  should  be  buried 
in  a  simple  white  dress.  We  read  of  Ananias,  that 
they  'wrapped  him  round,'  apparently  in  the 
clothes  he  was  wearing,  and  carried  him  out,  and 
buried  him  (Ac  56). 

Later  on,  the  use  of  a  shroud  or  special  grave- 
clothes  or  wrappings  for  the  dead  became  universal ; 
but  it  is  not  clear  when  this  custom  was  first  intro- 
duced amongst  the  Jews.  In  Jn  ll44  Lazarus' 
hands  and  feet  were  bound  with  linen  bandages 
{Kei.pla.is),  and  his  face  with  a  napkin  (aovbaplif). 
The  body  of  our  Lord  was  wrapped  in  strips  of 
linen  (68ovLois).  We  have  already  referred  to  the 
use  of  spices. 

Coffins  were  not  used  by  the  Jews  in  ancient 
times,  except  in  the  case  of  Joseph  (Gn  5026),  whose 
remains  were  placed  in  an  'arSn,  or  chest ;  but  this, 
like  his  embalming,  was  an  Egyptian  custom.  The 
Jews  laid  their  dead  on  a  bier  (OT  mitta,  naD, 
'couch'  [2  S  381];  NT  <xop6s  [Lk  714]),  as  is  the 
custom  amongst  Eastern  Jews  now.  They  use 
this  bier  to  carry  the  corpse  to  the  grave,  and  do 
not  bury  it. 

The  exigencies  of  the  climate  of  Palestine  called 
for  burial  soon  after  death,  on  the  same  day,  or 
within  24  hours.  As  often,  a  natural  necessity 
hardened  into  a  sacred  custom,  which  was  long 
maintained  amongst  Jews  in  Western  countries, 
where  the  same  necessity  did  not  exist ;  but  after 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Jewish) 


499 


a  while  it  fell  into  disuse,  and  a  longer  interval  is 
allowed  in  the  West. 

The  carrying  of  the  corpse  to  the  burying-place 
was  the  work  of  friends  of  the  deceased,  and  was 
the  occasion  of  public  lamentation,  which,  at  any 
rate  in  the  early  centuries  of  our  era,  was  partly 
performed  by  hired  mourners  and  musicians.  There 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  any  formal  burial  ser- 
vice of  a  religious  character  in  Biblical  times,1  but 
then  and  later  funeral  orations  were  sometimes 
delivered.  According  to  JE  (s.v.  '  Funeral  Rites,' 
v.  529),  the  mourners  recited  Ps  91  on  their  way  to 
the  cemetery  ;  in  the  cemetery,  other  formulae,  con- 
cluding with  the  faddish,  or  doxology ;  and  on 
their  return,  passages  from  Lamentations.  Women 
attended  funerals  in  ancient  times,  and  still  do  so 
amongst  the  foreign  Ashkenazim,  but  not  amongst 
the  Sephardim  or  the  English  Ashkenazim. 

The  funeral  of  Herod  the  Great  is  thus  described 
by  Josephus  (Ant.  xvil.  viii.  3  ;  cf.  BJ  I.  xxxiii.  9) : 

'  The  body  was  carried  upon  a  golden  bier,  embroidered  with 
very  precious  stones  of  great  variety,  and  it  was  covered  over 
with  purple,  as  was  the  body  itself  :  he  had  a  diadem  upon  his 
head,  and  above  it  a  crown  of  gold  ;  he  had  also  a  sceptre  in  hifl 
right  hand.  About  the  bier  were  his  sons  and  his  numerous 
relations ;  next  to  these  were  the  soldiery,  distinguished  accord- 
ing to  their  several  countries  and  denominations ;  and  they 
were  put  into  the  following  order :  first  of  all  went  his  guards, 
then  the  band  of  Thracians,  after  them  the  Germans,  next  the 
band  of  Galatians,  every  one  in  their  habiliments  of  war ;  and 
behind  these  marched  the  whole  army,  in  the  same  manner  as 
they  used  to  go  out  to  war,  and  as  they  used  to  be  put  in  array 
by  their  muster-masters  and  centurions ;  these  were  followed 
by  five  hundred  of  his  domestics,  carrying  spices.' 

We  may  also  quote  the  following  description  of 
modern  Samaritan  rites,  which  probably  preserves 
many  of  the  customs  of  Palestinian  Jews  in  early 
times : 

'  Upon  death  the  corpse  is  carefully  and  ceremoniously 
washed ;  it  is  not  forbidden  to  the  Samaritans,  as  has  been 
frequently  stated,  to  handle  their  dead,  except  in  the  case  of 
the  high-priest.  Candles  are  burnt  at  the  head  and  foot  of 
the  corpse  before  burial.  Coffins  are  used — an  exception  in 
modern  Palestinian  custom.  The  mourning  ceremonies  last 
until  the  following  Sabbath,  the  community  going  each  day 
to  the  tomb,  where  they  read  and  pray.  On  the  Sabbath  the 
community  again  visit  the  tomb,  where  they  partake  of  a  meal, 
while  further  appropriate  services  are  held  in  the  synagogue.' 2 

The  duration  of  mourning  has  always  varied, 
according  to  the  rank  of  the  deceased  and  his 
relation  to  the  mourner.  Seven  days  was  a  very 
common  period.  The  men  of  Jabesh-Gilead  fasted 
seven  days  for  Saul  and  Jonathan  (1  S  3118) ;  Joseph 
mourned  seven  days  for  Jacob  (Gn  5010) ;  Judith 
was  mourned  seven  days  (Jth  16M) ;  Sir  2212  men- 
tions seven  days  as  the  period  of  mourning.  In 
later  Judaism  the  period  of  strict  mourning,  the 
Shib'a,  lasts  seven  days  ;  mourning  of  a  less  severe 
character  lasts  till  the  end  of  thirty  days,  and  in 
the  case  of  children  to  the  end  of  the  year. 8 

As  to  mourning-dress,  the  rending  of  garments 
and  the  wearing  of  sackcloth  are  mentioned  in  Gn 
37s4  etc.  We  also  read  of  garments  of  widowhood 
(Gn  3814,  Jth  10s),  which  apparently  were  worn  by 
the  widow  throughout  her  life,  and  consisted  of, 
or  included,  sackcloth.  Modern  Jews  usually  wear 
black  as  mourning,  except  in  Russia,  Poland,  and 
Galicia,  where  white  is  worn.4  Mourners  rend 
their  garments  at  the  time  of  death,  and  wear 
the  outer  garment  cut  and  unbound  during  the 
thirty  days  of  mourning.5 

The  presence  of  numerous  guests  at  a  funeral 
necessitated  a  special  meal,  '  funeral  baked  meats,' 
which,  in  spite  of  the  character  of  the  occasion, 
was  apt  to  become  a  feast.  This  meal  is  perhaps 
spoken  of  in  the  OT  as  lehem  '6nim,  '  bread  of 
mourners '  (Hos  94),  and  was  provided  for  the 
mourners  by  their  friends  at  the  close  of  the  fast 

1  Stapfer,  Palestine  in  the  Time  of  Christ,  Eng.  tr.,Lond.  1887, 
p.  168. 

2  J.  A.  Montgomery,  The  Samaritans,  Philad.,  1907,  p.  43  f. 

3  Oesterley  and  Box,  307. 

4  JE,  s.v.' Mourning,'  ix.  101. 
«  Oesterlev  and  Box,  304  ft". 


which  occupied  the  day  of  the  funeral  (2  S  335, 
Jer  167) — a  custom  which  seems  to  have  prevailed 
ever  since.1 

Other  acts  of  mourning  were  fasting  (1  S  3118), 
beating  the  breast  (Is  3212,  cf.  Lk  18ls),  sitting  in 
ashes  (Jon  36),  sprinkling  ashes  on  the  head  (Est 
41).  Ezk  24"  implies  that  mourners  were  wont  to 
cover  the  lip  and  to  go  barefoot  and  bareheaded. 
According  to  Jer  166,  mourners  mutilated  them- 
selves, and  plucked  out  or  shaved  oft'  the  hair ; 
but  such  practices  are  forbidden  in  Lv  19-8,  Dt  141. 

Traces  remain  in  the  OT  of  the  worship  of  the 
dead,  of  sacrifices  offered  to  or  for  them,  and  of 
furnishing  them  with  food.  Probably  the  later 
funeral  feast  was  partly  a  survival  of  such  prac- 
tices. The  worship  of  the  dead  was  closely  con- 
nected with  necromancy,  which  was  prevalent  in 
Israel  (e.g.  Is  819).  The  graves  of  ancient  worthies 
seem  often  to  have  been  shrines,  as  in  Islam.  Thus 
there  was  a  masseba,  or  sacred  pillar,  at  the  grave 
of  Rachel  (Gn  3520),  and  the  important  sanctuary 
at  Shechem  may  have  been  connected  with  the 
grave  of  Joseph  (Jos  2426-  32).  The  interpretation 
of  Dt  2614  is  a  little  doubtful.  The  E V  renders 
'[I  have  not  given  food]  for  the  dead,'  but  the 
reference  probably  is  to  offering  food  to  the  dead 
or  providing  food  for  them.  The  practice  was  con- 
demned by  official  Judaism,  but  persisted  never- 
theless. Tobit  417  bids  the  Jew  place  food  on  the 
tomb  of  the  righteous  ; 2  and  Sir  3018  also  refers  to 
the  custom.8  In  some  quarters  necromancy  and 
its  allied  customs  survived  among  the  Jews  in  later 
periods. 

In  Rabbinical  times  and  among  the  stricter 
modern  Jews,  during  the  Shib'a,  or  seven  days  of 
strict  mourning,  the  relatives  abstain  from  work 
and  remain  at  home,  sitting  on  the  floor  or  on  a 
low  bench,  reading  the  Book  of  Job,  and  receiving 
visits  of  condolence.  Bereaved  children  should 
abstain  for  a  year  from  music  and  recreation. 

A  special  feature  of  Jewish  mourning  is  the  re- 
petition of  the  faddish  by  a  bereaved  son.  Accord- 
ing to  the  Jewish  Prayer-book,  this  is  to  be  repeated 
by  sons  for  eleven  months  after  the  death  of  a 
parent,  and  also  on  the  Jahrzeit,  or  anniversary  of 
the  death.  It  is  a  special  form  of  Kaddish  which 
runs  thus : 

'  May  His  great  Name  be  magnified  and  hallowed  in  the  world 
which  He  created  according  to  His  will  1  May  He  establish  His 
kingdom  speedily  and  in  the  near  future  in  your  lifetime  and  in 
your  days  and  in  the  lifetime  of  all  Israel !    Say  ye  Amen. 

May  His  great  Name  be  blessed  for  ever  ;  may  it  be  blessed 
for  ever  and  ever  1 

May  the  Name  of  the  Holy  One  (Blessed  be  He)  be  blessed  and 
praised  and  glorified  and  exalted  and  set  on  high  and  honoured 
and  uplifted  and  sung  above  all  blessings  and  hymns  and  praises 
and  consolations  that  are  repeated  in  the  world  I 

May  the  Name  of  the  Lord  be  blessed  from  now  even  for  ever- 
more I  May  there  be  great  peace  from  heaven  and  life  upon  us 
and  upon  all  Israel,  and  say  ye  Amen.  My  help  is  from  the 
Lord  that  made  heaven  and  earth.  May  He  that  maketh  peace 
in  His  high  places  make  peace  for  us  and  for  all  Israel !  And 
say  ye  Amen.' 

This  is  publicly  recited  in  the  synagogue,  but 
according  to  Oesterley  and  Box  4  it  '  is  in  no  sense 
in  itself  a  prayer  for  the  dead,  but  the  public  re- 
citation of  it  in  this  fashion  by  a  son  is  regarded  as 
a  proof  of  the  piety  of  the  dead,  as  represented  by 
a  pious  survivor.'  This  no  doubt  is  the  view  of 
enlightened  Jews  ;  but  others  believe  that  the  re- 
petition of  the  Kaddish  by  the  son  shortens  the 
purgatorial  period  which  the  father  must  spend  in 
Gehenna  or  exalts  him  to  a  higher  sphere  in  Para- 
dise.6 The  repetition  terminates  on  the  anniversary 
of  the  death,  because  it  would  be  unfilial  to  suppose 
that  a  father's  sins  would  require  more  than  a 

1  Oesterley  and  Box,  304  S. 

2  Sometimes  interpreted,  improbably,  of  the  funeral  feast 
given  to  mourners. 

3  See  Smend,  112  f.  ;  Benzinger,  165  ff. ;  Nowack,  ii.  300  ;  and 
Dillmann  and  Driver  on  Dt  24lt*. 

4  P.  340.  5  JE,  s.r.  '  Kaddish.'  vii.  401  f. 


500 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Muhammadan) 


year's  purgatory.  In  the  Ashkenazie  synagogues 
prayers  are  said  four  times  a  year  by  the  bereaved 
for  the  souls  of  the  deceased. ' 

Priests  were  forbidden  to  mourn  except  in  the 
case  of  the  nearest  relationships  (Lv  211-6,  Ezk 
4425). 

4.  Significance  of  death  and  of  funeral  customs. 
— Some  scholars  2  see  in  many  of  the  funeral  rites, 
notably  cutting  of  the  hair,  self -mutilation,  etc., 
which  were  forbidden  by  the  more  advanced  Juda- 
ism, traces  of  an  animistic  stage  of  the  religion  of 
Israel,  of  the  worship  of  ancestors,  and  of  the  allied 
ideas  of  the  continued  life  of  the  dead,  of  the  possi- 
bility of  communion  with  them,  of  the  necessity  of 
providing  for  their  needs  and  protecting  them  from 
evil  spirits  ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  of  the  need  of 
protecting  the  living  from  injury  by  the  spirits  of 
the  dead.  No  doubt  the  Semitic  peoples  passed 
through  a  stage  of  religious  development  when 
such  ideas  were  current ;  and  these  ideas  persisted 
and  do  persist  when  they  have  been  outgrown  by 
the  purer  forms  of  religion  ;  but  they  do  not  be- 
long to  Jahwism  or  to  Judaism  so  far  as  either 
was  or  is  dominated  by  revelation.  Neverthe- 
less, the  great  importance  attached  to  burial  in 
the  last  centuries  of  the  pre-Christian  era  sug- 
gests that  the  condition  of  the  spirit  of  the 
deceased  was  supposed  to  be  influenced  by  the 
treatment  of  the  corpse.  Later  on,  in  some 
districts  the  habit  prevailed  of  visiting  cemeteries 
in  order  to  obtain  the  help  or  intercession  of  the 
dead. 

Another  quasi-animistic  explanation  of  mourn- 
ing rites  which  involve  disfigurement,  unattractive 
dress,  covering  the  head,  etc.,  is  that  they  were 
intended  to  prevent  the  spirit  of  the  dead  man 
from  recognizing  the  mourner,  and  so  to  protect 
the  latter  from  any  injury  the  spirit  might  wish 
to  inflict  upon  him.  Similarly,  the  mourners' 
shrieks  were  intended  to  drive  the  spirit  away ; 
and  satisfactory  burial  was  necessary  in  order  that 
the  dead  might  find  their  way  to  Sheol  and  stay 
there.  The  suggestion  that  many  mourning  rites 
were  due  to  the  anxiety  of  the  mourner  to  humble 
himself  before  God 3  hardly  seems  probable.  The 
most  obvious  explanation  is  that  mourning  arose 
out  of  a  natural  desire  to  express  the  emotions 
caused  by  bereavement.  Such  distress  gives  rise 
to  wailing,  frantic  gestures,  neglect  of  the  dress 
and  person,  an  aversion  to  the  pleasures  of  life. 
Acts  which  were  originally  spontaneous  would 
soon  harden  into  a  fixed  etiquette  or  ritual.  Many 
customs  might  easily  be  thus  explained  ;  and  it  is 
possible  that  this  may  be  the  true  explanation, 
even  in  cases  where  a  mourning  custom  does  not 
seem  to  us  a  natural  expression  of  grief.  A  man 
distraught  by  sorrow  may  seek  relief  in  any  un- 
expected, strange,  unusual  act ;  such  an  act  may 
appeal  to  the  imagination  of  spectators  by  its  very 
strangeness,  and  be  imitated  till  it  becomes  a 
custom. 

The  contagious  uncleanness  of  a  corpse  (Nu  52, 
Lv  2111)  might  be  suggested  in  many  ways :  by 
the  fear  of  the  spirit  of  the  dead  man  mentioned 
above,  by  the  natural  shrinking  from  an  object  so 
changed  from  the  living  friend  or  kinsman,  and 
even  by  sanitary  reasons.  The  uncleanness  of  the 
corpse  would  naturally  be  extended  to  the  tomb. 
In  the  same  way  an  unburied  corpse  defiled  the 
land  and  brought  down  a  curse  upon  it  (Dt  212S). 
It  would  be  a  mistake  to  try  to  explain  all  the 
mourning  customs,  even  of  one  people,  by  the  con- 
sistent application  of  a  single  principle.  Bereave- 
ment affects  men  in  many  ways,  so  that  natural 
affection,    practical    considerations,    superstition, 

1  Oesterley  and  Eox,  loc.  eit. 

2  E.g.  F.  Schwally,  Das  Leben  nach  dent  Tode,  Giesaen, 
1892. 

3  PRE  S  XX.  88  f. 


and  religion  all  contribute  to  give  rise  to  the 
ritual  connected  with  death.  Moreover,  a  rite 
changes  its  significance  and  value  from  time  to 
time,  so  that  the  meaning  attached  to  it  in  latei 
times  may  be  quite  different  from  that  which  it 
had  originally,  and  the  popular  explanation  of  it 
may  throw  no  light  on  its  origin. 

According  to  Gn  3,  death  was  a  consequence  of  the 
sin  of  Adam  and  Eve  (of .  Ro  512) ;  it  would  be  natural 
to  draw  the  conclusion  arrived  at  in  the  latter 
passage,  that  henceforth  each  man  died  because  of 
his  own  sin  (a  view  perhaps  implied  by  Nu  273).1 
But  the  narrative  in  Genesis  stands  apart  from  the 
general  course  of  OT  thought,  which  regards  death 
as  the  natural  end  of  life.  The  righteous  man, 
according  to  a  widely  prevalent  view,  enjoys  a  long 
and  happy  life,  and  is  gathered  to  his  fathers  in  a 
good  old  age.  Some  passages  of  the  Wisdom  Litera- 
ture, even  apart  from  any  belief  in  a  real  future 
life,  regard  life  as  a  burden  and  death  as  a  boon 
(Job  716- 16,  Ec  l2  42- s). 

In  some  passages  of  OT,  death  is  personified  (e.g. 
Job  2822,  Is  2816,  Hab  26).  In  others  the  term  is 
extended  to  mean  spiritual  death  ;  it  doubtless  in- 
cludes physical  death,  but  only  as  a  part  of  a  wider 
judgment  which  also  involves  separation  from  God 
and  exclusion  from  the  Kingdom.  In  such  pass- 
ages, as  Schultz  said,  'death  includes  everything 
which  is  a  result  of  sin.'2  This  usage  of  the  term 
is  extended  and  developed  in  the  later  literature. 
Thus  Philo  :  '  The  death  of  the  soul  is  the  decay  of 
virtue,  the  taking  up  of  evil.' 3 

In  later  Judaism,  death  is  regarded  as  atoning 
for  the  sin  of  the  deceased.  According  to  a  popular 
superstition,  the  dead  man  suffers  pain  while  his 
body  is  decaying  in  the  grave,  and  this  pain  has  an 
atoning  value.  But,  apart  from  such  ideas,  we 
find  the  doctrine  taught  by  Rabbinical  and  other 
authorities.  Thus  the  Sephardic  ritual  for  a  dying 
man  includes  the  following  : 

'  Let  my  death  be  an  atonement  for  all  my  sins,  iniquities,  and 
transgressions,  wherein  I  have  sinned,  offended,  and  transgressed 
against  Thee,  from  the  day  of  my  first  existence  ;  and  let  my 
portion  be  in  the  Garden  of  Eden.'4  Again  we  read  :  '  The  Day 
of  Atonement  and  death  make  atonement  when  accompanied 
with  sincere  repentance.' 5 

Literature  (in  addition  to  works  referred  to  in  the  body  of 
the  article  ;  this  list  also  gives  the  full  titles  of  works  referred 
to  merely  under  authors'  names). — H.  Ewald,  The  Antiquities 
of  Israel,  Eng.  tr.,  London,  1876,  pp.  149, 163  ff. ;  J.  Benzinger, 
Heb.  Archdol.,  Freiburg,  1894,  p.  163  ff.  ;  W.  Nowack,  Lehrb. 
der  heb.  Archdol.,  Freiburg,  1894,  i.  193  ff.,  ii.  273-280,  300  f.  ; 
H.  Schultz,  OT  Theol.,  Eng.  tr.,  Edin.  1892,  ii.  264,  313  ff. ;  A. 
Dillmann,  Handb.  der  AT  Theol.,  Leipz.  1896,  pp.  366-100  ;  W. 
Robertson  Smith,  Rel.  Sem.2, 1894,  pp.  236,  369,  373  f.,  414  f.;  R. 
Smend,  Lehrb.  der  AT Religionsgesch.*,  Freiburg,  1899,  pp.  112ff., 
327,  504  f. ;  J.  Koberle,  Siinde  und  Gnade,  Munich,  1905,  pp.  54, 
116,  334,  668  ff.  ;  A.  P.  Bender, '  Beliefs,  Rites,  and  Customs  of 
the  Jews,  connected  with  Death,  Burial,  and  Mourning,'  in  JQR, 
1894  ff. ;  W.  O.  E.  Oesterley  and  G.  H.  Box,  The  Religion  and 
Worship  of  the  Synagogue,  Lond.  1907,  p.  303  ff. ;  W.  O.  E. 
Oesterley,  The  Jewish  Doctrine  of  Mediation,  do.  1910, 
p.  110  ;  together  with  the  articles  on  '  Burial,' '  Funeral  Rites,' 
'Kaddish,  '  Mourning,' '  Sepulchre,' '  Tomb,"  etc.,  in  BDB,  EBi, 
JE,  and  the  art.  '  Trauergebrauche,'  in  PRE  s. 

W.  H.  Bennett. 
DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 

(Muhammadan). — According  to  the  Qur'an,  '  every 
soul  must  taste  of  death  '  (iii.  182) ;  the  difficulty  as 
to  those  who  may  be  alive  at  the  Last  Day  is 
got  over  by  the  explanation  that  on  the  blast  of 
the  trumpet  all  '  shall  expire,  except  those  whom 
God  pleases '  (xxxix.  68),  the  exempted  being 
possibly  some  of  the  greater  angels  (Baidawl,  etc., 
m  loc).  Further,  it  is  laid  down  that  the  exact 
hour  of  each  person's  death  is  foreordained  (xvi. 

1  Koberle,  Siinde  und  Gnade,  334  ;  but  probably  the  passage 
regards  Zelophehad  as  involved  in  the  sin  of  Israel  in  refusing 
to  enter  Canaan  from  Kadesh. 

2  OT  Theol.,  Eng.  tr.,  ii.  310,  316  f.;  cf.  Bennett,  283  ;  and  see 
Ezk  20«-  2». 

3  Lego.  Allcgor.  i.  33,  quoted  by  Hughes,  Ethics  of  Jewish 
Apocri/phal  Lit.,  Lond.  1909,  p.  280. 

4  Oesterley,  p.  110. 

6  Mish.  I'oma,  viii.  8,  quoted  by  Bender,  JQR  vi.  [1S94)  666. 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Muhammadan) 


501 


63).  In  the  traditions,  men  are  forbidden  by  the 
Prophet  to  wish  for  death,  though  to  a  believer  it 
will  be  desirable.  Whoso's  last  words  are  the  Kalirna 
(profession  of  faith,  '  There  is  no  god  but  God  ')  will 
enter  into  paradise  ;  and  it  is  directed  that  this  shall 
be  recited  in  the  presence  of  the  dying,  and  the 
Sura  Yd  Sin  (Qur.  xxxvi.)  should  be  said  over  the 
dead.  A  fantastic  tradition,  given  on  the  authority 
of  Abu-Huraira,  relates  what  Muhammad  is  sup- 
posed to  have  said  about  the  passing  of  the  soul. 
In  the  case  of  a  believer,  angels  of  mercy  clad  in 
white  come  and  invite  the  soul  to  the  rest  which 
is  with  God,  and  the  soul  comes  out  with  a  delicious 
smell  of  musk,  which  the  angels  sniff  with  satis- 
faction ;  the  soul  is  handed  on  from  angel  to  angel, 
till  it  reaches  the  souls  of  the  faithful,  who  rejoice 
and  question  it  about  those  left  behind  on  earth. 
But  angels  of  wrath  come  to  the  dying  infidel,  and 
his  soul  departs  with  a  bad  smell,  which  disgusts 
them,  and  they  bring  it  to  the  souls  of  the  infidels. 
This  idea  is  elaborated  in  other  traditions,  in  which 
the  soul  of  the  righteous  is  said  to  issue  forth  like 
water  from  a  skin,  and  the  angel  of  death  seizes 
it ;  but  the  angels  in  white  snatch  it  from  him  and 
wrap  it  in  a  shroud  with  an  odour  of  musk,  and 
convey  it  on  and  on  to  the  seventh  heaven,  where 
the  believer's  name  is  registered,  after  which  it  is 
returned  to  its  body  on  the  earth,  to  undergo  the 
questioning  of  the  grave.  But  the  dying  infidel 
is  visited  by  black-faced  angels,  and  the  soul  is 
drawn  out  like  a  hot  spit  out  of  wet  wool  which 
sticks  to  it,  and  is  wrapped  in  sackcloth,  smelling 
fetidly  ;  and  its  name  is  written  in  hell  (sijjin) ;  and 
it  is  violently  thrown  down  upon  the  earth,  to  be 
examined  by  the  angels  of  the  grave,  as  will  be 
described  later. 

Meanwhile  the  body  is  treated  with  a  ceremonial 
which  varies  little  in  different  parts  of  the  Muslim 
world,  and  is  nearly  the  same  for  men  and  women. 
Precedents  for  most  of  the  ritual  are  traced  to 
traditions  of  the  Prophet ;  but  two  customs — the 
wailing  of  women  and  the  recital  of  praises  of  the 
dead — are  observed  in  direct  defiance  of  his  com- 
mands. The  dying  man  is  turned  to  face  the 
qibla,  or  direction  of  Mecca,  and,  as  soon  as  his 
eyes  are  closed  in  death,  the  surrounding  men 
ejaculate  pious  formulae  and  the  women  raise  cries 
of  lamentation  (walwala),  the  family  calling  upon 
the  dead  in  such  terms  as  '  O  my  master  ! '  '  O  my 
resource  ! '  '  O  my  camel ! '  '  O  my  misfortune  ! ' 
The  clothes  of  the  deceased  are  instantly  changed, 
his  jaw  bound,  and  his  legs  tied  ;  and  he  is  covered 
with  a  sheet.  Women  friends,  and  sometimes  pro- 
fessional '  keeners '  (naddaba),  with  tambourines, 
join  the  mourners  and  cry,  '  Alas  for  him  ! '  If  he 
was  one  of  the  'ulama  of  Cairo  or  some  man  of 
mark,  his  death  would  be  announced  from  the 
minarets  in  the  call  known  as  the  Abrar  (from 
Qur.  lxxvi.  5-9).  The  lamentations  go  on  all 
night,  if  the  death  occurred  in  the  evening,  and 
a  recitation  of  the  Qur'an  by  hired  fiqis  takes 
place ;  but,  if  the  death  occurred  in  the  morning, 
the  burial  follows  on  the  same  day,  as,  in  addition 
to  the  rapid  decomposition  in  a  hot  climate,  there 
is  often  a  superstitious  dread  of  keeping  a  corpse 
all  night  in  the  house.  The  washing  of  the  dead 
is  done  by  a  professional  washer  (mughassil  or 
ghassal),  male  or  female  according  to  the  case, 
who  brings  a  bench  and  bier,  and  does  the  work, 
often  in  a  courtyard,  with  much  reverence  and 
decency,  and  with  care  in  the  disposal  of  the 
water,  which  people  fear  to  touch  ;  while  the 
fiqis  continue  chanting  in  the  next  room.  After 
a  very  elaborate  washing,  the  nostrils  and  other 
orifices  are  stuffed  with  cotton,  and  the  corpse 
is  sprinkled  with  camphor,  rosewater,  and  lote 
leaves  (nabq),  the  feet  tied  together  and  hands 
laid  on  breast,  and  the  grave  clothes  (kafan)  put 


on  according  to  precise  rules.  Those  vary  from 
two  or  three  pieces  of  cotton  (or  five  for  a  woman), 
or  a  mere  sack,  in  the  case  of  the  poor,  to  a  series 
of  layers  of  muslin,  cotton,  silk,  and  a  Kashmir 
shawl,  among  the  rich  ;  and  the  fashions  vary  in 
different  lands.  Women  usually  have  a  long  shift 
(yalak)  added,  and  in  India  a  coif  (damnl).  white 
and  green  are  the  favourite  colours  for  the  kafan, 
or  any  colour  but  blue,  but  white  alone  is  allowed 
in  India.  A  shawl  is  thrown  over  the  body  when 
placed  on  the  bier  (janaza  or  sanduq).  There  is 
no  coffin,  and,  of  course,  no  priest. 

The  funeral  or  procession  varies  in  different 
countries.  In  India,  women  do  not  attend  as  a 
rule,  but  they  do  in  Bukhara.  In  Egypt  the 
cortege  is  often  preceded  by  half  a  dozen  poor 
men  (yamaniya),  blind  by  preference,  walking  in 
pairs  and  chanting  the  Kahma.  After  them  come 
the  male  friends  and  relations,  and  perhaps  some 
darwishes,  especially  if  the  deceased  belonged  to 
a  darwlsh  order.  A  few  schoolboys  follow,  carrying 
a  Qur'an  on  a  desk,  and  chanting  lively  verses  on 
the  Day  of  Judgment  and  similar  topics.  Then 
comes  the  bier  (which  for  women  and  children  has 
a  post  [shahid]  at  the  head,  covered  with  a  shawl, 
and  often  adorned  with  gold  ornaments,  or,  in  the 
case  of  a  boy,  surmounted  by  a  turban),  carried  head 
foremost  at  a  brisk  pace  by  friends,  who  relieve 
each  other  in  turn.  It  is  an  act  of  merit  for  any 
passer-by  to  lend  a  hand  or  to  follow  the  bier  ;  and 
the  Prophet  made  a  point  of  always  standing  up 
when  a  bier  was  passing,  and  saying  a  prayer. 
The  women  walk  behind  the  bier,  with  dis- 
hevelled hair,  keening  and  shrieking,  and  the 
hired  mourners  swell  the  chorus  and  sound  the 
praises  of  the  dead,  contrary  to  the  Prophet's  will. 
Blue  headbands  and  handkerchiefs  distinguish  the 
women  relations,  who  slap  their  faces  and  some- 
times smear  them  with  mud.  There  are  some 
variations  in  the  procession  when  the  deceased  is  a 
woman.  Rich  people  add  camels  to  the  procession, 
and  hire  Jiqis  to  chant  chapters  of  the  Qur'an  on 
the  march,  or  members  of  religious  orders  carry- 
ing flags ;  and  also  sacrifice  (al-kaffara)  a  buffalo 
at  the  tomb  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor ;  whilst 
ladies  riding  the  high  ass  often  follow  their  female 
relations.  If  it  be  a  saint  (wall)  who  is  being 
buried,  the  women  raise  joy-cries  (zagharit)  instead 
of  wilwal,  or  keening  ;  and,  if  these  cries  cease,  the 
bier  stops  too  ;  for  saints  are  believed  to  be  wilful 
and  able  to  stop  their  bearers,  and  even  to  direct 
them  to  where  they  prefer  to  be  buried.  It  is  said 
to  be  useless  to  try  to  rush  a  saint's  bier  in  a  direc- 
tion he  does  not  like,  but  the  somewhat  bizarre 
device  of  turning  the  bier  round  rapidly  several 
times  has  been  found  successful  in  confusing  the 
corpse's  sense  of  orientation  (Lane,  Mod.  Eg.5 
p.  518). 

The  ceremony  at  the  mosque  consists  in  laying 
the  bier  on  the  floor,  right  side  towards  Mecca, 
when  a  service  of  prayer  is  recited  by  an  imam 
and  his  attendant  muballigh,  in  the  presence  of 
the  congregation  of  mourners  and  all  who  choose 
to  attend,  ranged  in  a  prescribed  order,  ending 
with  an  appeal  to  the  audience :  '  Give  your 
testimony  concerning  him,'  and  their  reply  :  '  He 
was  of  the  righteous.'  The  Jiqis  may  then  recite 
the  Fatiha,  etc.,  and  the  funeral  goes  on  to  the 
graveyard. 

There  a  tomb  has  been  prepared,  of  ample  size, 
with  an  arched  roof,  so  that  the  corpse  may  sit  up 
at  ease  to  answer  the  interrogatory  of  the  examin- 
ing angels,  Munkar  and  Nakir,  who  will  enter 
the  tomb  to  question  him  as  to  his  orthodoxy.  If 
the  replies  are  satisfactory,  the  grave  will  be  en- 
larged to  him,  and  a  man  with  a  beautiful  coun- 
tenance will  appear  to  tell  him :  '  I  am  thy  good 
deeds' ;  otherwise,  a  hideous  face  comes  to  represent 


502 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Parsi) 


his  evil  deeds,  and  painful  experiences  ensue.  The 
fear  of  '  the  torment  of  the  grave '  is  very  real 
among  Muslims. 

The  construction  of  tombs  varies  in  different 
places,  and  no  one  pattern  can  he  indicated.  In 
Egypt,  the  entrance  is  at  the  foot,  the  side 
furthest  from  Mecca,  and  the  tomb  is  often 
made  to  hold  several  bodies ;  but,  if  they  are  of 
opposite  sexes,  a  partition  is  set  up.  Over  the 
tomb  is  an  oblong  stone  slab  or  brick  monument 
(tarkiya),  with  an  upright  stone  (shahid)  at  head 
and  foot.  The  inscription  is  on  that  at  the  head, 
which  is  often  carved  with  a  turban.  A  small 
chapel  covered  with  a  cupola  is  frequently  built 
over  the  tombs  of  saints  and  other  distinguished 
people,  while  the  tomb-mosques  of  sultans  and 
amirs  are  often  beautiful  examples  of  Saracenic 
art. 

The  body  is  lifted  out  of  the  bier  and  laid  in  the 
tomb,  on  its  right  side,  with  the  face  towards 
Mecca,  propped  in  that  position  by  bricks.  Its 
bandages  are  untied,  its  Kashmir  shawl  rent,  lest 
it  should  tempt  grave-robbers,  a  little  earth  is 
sprinkled,  ch.  cxii.  of  the  Qur'an,  or  xx.  57,  is 
recited  (but  this  was  forbidden  by  the  Wahhabls 
and  others),  and  the  entrance  is  closed.  There  is  no 
service  at  the  grave ;  but,  before  leaving  (unless 
the  funeral  be  of  a  Maliki),  a,fiql,  in  the  character  of 
mulaqqin,  or  tutor  of  the  dead,  sits  before  the 
tomb  and  tells  the  defunct  the  five  correct  answers 
to  be  given  to  the  examining  angels  that  night  (the 
'  Night  of  Desolation,'  Lailat  al-waqsha)  when  they 
come  and  ask  him  his  catechism  :  he  must  reply 
that  his  God  is  Allah,  his  prophet  Muhammad,  nis 
religion  Islam,  his  Bible  the  Qur'an,  and  his  qibla 
the  Ka'ba.  The  grave  is  left  in  solitude  and  the 
mourners  depart,  saying  a  Fatiha  for  the  defunct 
and  another  for  all  the  dead  in  the  cemetery. 
Some  fiqis  take  a  repast  in  the  room  where  the 
deceased  died  and  recite  ch.  lxvii.  of  the  Qur'an,  or 
perform  the  more  elaborate  ritual  called  the  Sabha, 
'  Rosary,'  in  which  a  rosary  of  a  thousand  beads 
is  used  to  count  the  thousands  of  repetitions  of 
the  Kalima  and  the  hundreds  of  other  formulae 
repeated.  This  performance  ends  with  one  of  the 
fiqis  asking  the  others  :  '  Have  ye  transferred  [the 
merit  of]  what  ye  have  recited  to  the  deceased  ? ' 
and  their  answer  :  '  We  have  transferred  it.' 

Wailing  is  resumed  by  the  women  on  the 
Thursdays  of  the  first  three  weeks  after  the  burial, 
and  the  men  receive  friends  of  the  deceased  in  the 
house  and  hire  Jiqls  to  perform  a  hatma  of  the 
Qur'an  ;  and  on  the  Fridays  following  these  three 
Thursdays  the  women  visit  the  tomb  and  go 
through  various  rites,  including  the  placing  of  a 
broken  palm  branch  on  the  tomb  and  giving  food 
to  the  poor  ;  and  the  same  is  done  on  the  Thursday 
and  Friday  completing  or  following  the  forty  days 
after  the  funeral.  Men  do  not  display  mourning  in 
their  dress,  but  women  dye  their  veils  and  other 
gear  dark  blue,  and  sometimes  smear  the  walls  of 
their  rooms,  and  even  stain  their  hands  and  arms 
with  the  same  indigo  dye.  They  also  disarrange 
their  hair,  and  the  furniture  and  carpets  are  up- 
set in  mourning  for  the  head  of  the  house. 

Literature. — The  most  minute  account  of  all  the  ceremonies 
and  processes  used  in  regard  to  the  disposal  of  the  corpse  is  to 
be  read  in  G.  A.  Herklots  and  Ja'far  Sharif  s  Qanoon-e-Islam, 
London,  1832,  ch.  xxxviii. ;  the  ceremonies  after  the  funeral  are 
described  in  ch.  xxxix.  ;  but  a  good  deal  of  this  account  con- 
sists of  details  peculiar  to  the  Muslims  of  Hindustan.  The 
corresponding  ceremonies  observed  in  Egypt  are  described  in 
Lane's  Modern  Egyptians  5,  London,  1860,  ch.  xxviii. ,  where  also 
is  a  notice  of  a  curious  dance  performed  on  the  occasion  of  a 
death  by  the  peasants  of  Upper  Egypt.  The  Egyptian  customs 
are  similar  to  those  observed  in  Syria  and  Turkey,  though 
local  differences  of  usage  are  to  be  noticed,  a  fairly  detailed 
account  of  which  for  Turkey  may  be  read  in  The  People  of 
Turkey,  ed.  S.  Lane-Poole,  London,  1878,  ii.  136-143.  See  also 
Hughes'  DI,  London,  1885,  s.v.  'Burial'  and  'Death,'  where 
Herklots  is  conveniently  abridged.    The  traditions  of  Muham- 


mad on  the  subject  are  accessible  to  English  readers  in  Mishkdt 
al-Masablh,  tr.  Matthews,  Calcutta,  1809,  vol.  L  pp.  355-403. 

Stanley  Lane-Poole. 

DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE 
DEAD  (Parsi).— i.  Before  death.— When  death 
approaches,  one  or  two  priests  are  summoned  to 
make  the  dying  person  confess  his  sins.  The 
Patet,  or  confession  of  sins,  is  recited  for  his 
benefit,  and  it  is  a  meritorious  act  if  he  is  able 
to  join  the  priest  in  repeating  the  confession. 
According  to  the  Sad  Dar  (xlv.),  the  man  who 
'accomplishes  repentance'  does  not  go  to  hell, 
but,  having  received  his  punishment  at  the  end  of 
the  Chinvat  bridge,  is  led  to  his  place  in  heaven. 
In  a  case  of  urgency  the  short  Ashem-Vohu  (Ys. 
xxvii.  14)  formula  may  suffice,  and  the  Hatokht 
Nask  fragment  (Yt.  xxi.  14  f.)  attributes  a  special 
value  to  the  recital  of  Ashem-Vohu  in  the  last 
moments  of  life.  The  Sad  Dar  adds  (lxxx.  11) 
that  it  brings  one  who  has  deserved  hell  to  the 
Hamlstakan  (the  '  ever  stationary '  region  between 
heaven  and  hell)  ;  one  who  has  deserved  the 
Hamlstaka  to  heaven  ;  and  one  who  has  deserved 
heaven  to  the  highest  paradise.  The  tanu-peretha, 
after  whose  death  the  upaman,  '  waiting,'  '  mourn- 
ing,' of  the  relatives  must  be  prolonged  beyond 
the  usual  period  ( Vend.  xii. ),  is  explained  by  tra- 
dition as  one  who  has  died  without  Patet  and 
without  Ashem-Vohu.  Sometimes  a  few  drops  of 
the  consecrated  haoma  juice  mingled  with  water 
are  poured,  if  possible,  into  the  mouth  of  the 
dying  person,  haoma  being  believed  to  produce 
immortality.  Formerly  this  custom  was  more 
common  ;  and  it  was  also  usual  to  drop  into  the 
mouth  of  the  dying  person  a  few  grains  of  pome- 
granate, belonging  to  the  holy  ceremonies  of  the 
Parsi  sacrifice. 

2.  Death. — According  to  Vend.  v.  10,  the  ancient 
Zarathushtrians  had  special  chambers  or  buildings 
(kata)  for  the  dead — one  for  men,  one  for  women, 
and  one  for  children — in  every  house  or  in  every 
village,  and  the  common  mortuary  still  exists 
amongst  the  Zarathushtrians  of  Persia  and  in  the 
Mofussil  towns  of  Gujarat.  In  Bombay  and  other 
parts  of  India  a  special  place  in  the  house  is  pre- 
pared beforehand  and  washed  clean  in  order  to 
receive  the  dead  body.  The  body  is  bathed  all  over 
and  covered  with  a  clean,  but  worn-out,  white 
suit  of  cotton  clothes,  which  must  be  destroyed 
and  never  used  again  after  having  served  for  this 
purpose  (cf.  Vend.  v.  61,  viii.  23-25).  A  relative 
girds  the  sacred  cord  round  the  body,  reciting  the 
Ahura  Mazda  Khudai,  a  short  prayer  in  Pazand. 
The  corpse  is  placed  on  the  ground  on  a  clean 
white  sheet.  Two  relatives  sit  by  his  side  keep- 
ing themselves  in  contact  with  him — a  custom 
probably  derived,  like  the  paivand  (see  below) 
held  by  the  watchers  and  the  bearers  of  the 
corpse,  from  the  idea  of  forming  a  bridge  or  a  way 
for  the  soul.  An  Ashem-Vohu  is  recited  close  to 
the  dead  man's  ear. 

3.  Impurity  of  the  corpse. — The  corpse  is  now 
supposed  to  be  assailed  by  the  corpse-demon,  the 
Druj  Nasu.  According  to  Vend.  vii.  1-5,  the 
druj  of  the  corpse  rushes  on  the  body  from  the 
north,  in  the  shape  of  a  fly,  immediately  after 
death  in  a  case  of  natural  death.  But  in  a  case  of 
violent  death  (by  dogs,  or  by  the  wolf,  by  the 
sorcerer,  by  an  enemy,  or  by  the  hand  of  man, 
by  falling  from  a  mountain,  by  strangling  one- 
self, or  by  treachery)  the  demon  comes  only  in  the 
gdh  (one  of  the  five  divisions  of  the  day)  that  fol- 
lows after  death.  Only  special  despised  officials, 
set  apart  for  that  purpose,  are  allowed  actually 
to  touch  the  body,  and  they  must  scrupulously 
observe  certain  fixed  rules.  If  any  one  else  hap- 
pens to  touch  it,  the  contagion  spreads  to  him, 
and  he  must  undergo  the  great  purification,  bar 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Parsi) 


503 


ashniim,  for  nine  days  (being  washed  with  the 
urine  of  the  cow,  etc.  [Vend.  ix.]).  The  glance  of 
a  dog  (see  below)  or  other  animal  is  considered 
to  be  particularly  effective  for  driving  away  the 
corpse-demon. 

In  theory  the  old  tabu  ideas  concerning  the  dead 
have  been  modified  in  a  characteristic  manner  by 
the  Avestan  dualism.  Thus,  since  the  death  of  a 
Mazdayasnian  implies  a  victory  of  the  Evil  Power, 
his  body  is  unclean,  but  the  corpse  of  an  unbe- 
liever is  clean,  because  his  death  favours  the 
cause  of  Ahura  Mazda,  and  a  wicked  man  defiles 
only  during  his  life,  not  after  his  death  {Vend. 
v.  36-38). 

4.  Isolation  of  the  corpse. — The  place  of  the 
two  relatives  waiting  beside  the  body  is  next 
taken  by  the  nasu-kashas  of  the  Avesta,  now 
called  khandhya  ( '  shoulder-men  ')  by  the  Parsis  of 
India.  Two  of  those  funeral-servants  prepare 
themselves  by  washing  and  by  putting  on  clean 
suits  of  clothes  and  the  sacred  cord,  and  by  re- 
citing the  Srosh-baj  (on  which  see  Darmesteter, 
Le  Zend-Avesta,  ii.  686-688)  up  to  the  word  ashahe. 
They  then  enter  the  room  where  the  dead  body  is 
placed,  keeping  between  them  a  piece  of  cloth  or 
cotton  tape — the  paivand.  They  cover  the  body 
with  cloth  except  the  face — which,  however,  in 
some  parts  of  Gujarat  is  also  covered — with  a 
padan  (the  paitidana  of  the  Avesta,  a  piece  of 
white  cotton  stuff  which  the  Parsi  priest  holds 
before  his  nose  and  mouth  in  order  not  to  defile 
the  sacred  fire  and  the  other  pure  things).  Then 
the  two  khandhyas  lift  the  corpse  on  to  slabs  of 
stone  placed  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  its  arms 
being  folded  across  the  chest.  The  face  must  not 
be  turned  towards  the  north,  whence  the  demons 
proceed.  In  some  districts  of  Gujarat  the  old 
Avestan  rule  (Vend.  viii.  8)  is  still  observed  of 
laying  the  body  on  a  thin  layer  of  sand  in  a  cavity 
dug  in  the  ground  five  inches  deep,  while  in  Yezd 
the  corpse,  after  being  lifted  from  the  bier  in  the 
common  mortuary,  is  placed  '  on  a  raised  platform 
of  mud  paved  with  stone,  about  nine  feet  long  and 
four  feet  wide '  (Jackson,  Persia,  p.  391).  The  place 
in  which  the  body  reposes  is  ritually  separated 
from  connexion  with  the  living  by  three  deep 
circles,  kasha,  drawn  with  a  metallic  bar  or  nail 
by  one  of  the  two  khandhyas,  who  afterwards 
leave  the  house,  still  making  paivand,  and  finish 
their  Srosh-baj. 

5.  The  sag-did.— If  possible,  '  a  four-eyed  '  (cath- 
rucashma)  dog,  i.e.  a  dog  with  two  eye-like  spots 
above  the  eyes,  is  now  brought  near  the  corpse  in 
order  to  frighten  the  druj  by  his  look,  i.e.  the 
sag-did  ('dog-gaze')  is  arranged.  According  to 
Vend.  viii.  16,  a  white  dog  with  yellow  ears  has  also 
a  particular  power  against  the  demons,  but  any  dog 
may  suffice.  The  sag-did  is  repeated  at  the  begin- 
ning of  every  gah,  until  the  body  is  carried  from  the 
house.  The  prescription  of  Vend.  viii.  14-18  seems 
not  to  be  observed  nowadays,  namely,  that  a  yellow 
four-eyed  dog  or  a  white  dog  with  yellow  ears 
must  he  led  three  times  if  he  walks  willingly,  six 
or  nine  times  if  he  is  unwilling,  along  the  road 
where  a  corpse  of  a  man  or  of  a  dog  is  carried,  in 
order  to  scare  away  the  corpse-demon.  In  Yezd 
the  ordinary  street-dog  is  used,  and  '  morsels  of 
bread  are  strewn  around  the  corpse,  or,  according 
to  the  older  usage,  laid  on  the  bosom  of  the  dead, 
and  the  dog  eats  these '  (Jackson,  op.  cit.  p.  389). 
Immediately  before  entering  the  dakhma  ('tower  of 
silence '),  the  dead  body  is  once  more  exposed  to 
the  sag-did.  The  demon-expelling  glance  is  attri- 
buted by  Vend.  vii.  3.  29  f.,  viii.  36,  not  only  to  the 
dog,  but  to  '  the  flesh-eating  birds '  as  well  as  to 
'  the  flesh-eating  dogs. ' 

Those  passages  evidently  refer  to  the  moment  when  the 
animals,  to  which  the  body  is  exposed,  rush  on  it  to  devour 


it;  but  the  eminent  Parsi  scholar  J.  J.  Modi,  to  whom  we 
principally  owe  our  knowledge  of  the  actual  funeral  ceremonies 
of  the  Parsis,  interprets  Vend.  vii.  3  in  the  following  way:  'It 
is  enjoined  that  in  case  a  dog  is  not  procurable,  the  "  Sag'deed  " 
of  flesh-devouring  birds  like  the  crows  and  vultures  should  be 
allowed,  that  is  to  say,  it  will  do  if  a  flesh-eating  bird  happens 
to  pass  and  sees  the  corpse  from  above  or  if  the  flesh-eating 
birds  fly  in  that  direction '  (J  J  SB  ii.  414). 

6.  Demon-frightening  fire.— We  return  to  the 
mortuary  room,  where,  after  the  first  sag-did,  the 
demon-killing  fire  {Vend.  viii.  80)  is  brought  and 
fed  with  fragrant  sandal-wood  and  frankincense, 
and  where,  until  the  body  is  removed,  a  priest 
recites  the  Avesta,  keeping  himself,  as  well  as 
every  other  person,  at  least  three  paces  from  the 
dead  body  ( Vend.  viii.  7). 

7.  Time  of  removal. — The  removal  of  the  body 
must  take  place  in  the  daytime,  in  order  to  expose 
it  to  the  sun  ( Vend.  v.  13).  In  ancient  times  the 
corpse  might  lie  in  the  special  mortuaries  as  long 
as  one  month  or  even  until  the  next  spring  ( Vend. 
v.  12).  Now,  in  India,  the  body  is  removed  the 
next  morning,  if  death  takes  place  early  in  the 
night ;  if  a  person  dies  late  at  night  or  early  in 
the  morning,  the  body  is  removed  in  the  evening. 
In  case  of  death  by  accident  the  body  may  wait 
longer. 

8.  Removal.  —  Two  '  corpse  -  bearers '  (nasa- 
salars),  clothed  in  white,  with  '  hand-cover  ' 
(dastana)  on  their  hands,  and  making  paivand, 
enter  the  house  about  one  hour  before  their  de- 
parture to  the  dakhma,  carrying  an  iron  bier 
(gahan).  They  must  be  at  least  two  in  number 
( Vend.  iii.  14),  for  a  single  man  is  not  allowed  to 
carry  even  the  body  of  a  child.  Wood  being  more 
liable  to  infection,  the  bier  must  be  of  iron.  It  is 
placed  beside  the  body.  The  corpse-bearers  read 
the  Srosh-baj  up  to  the  word  ashahe  (the  remaining 
portion  of  that  prayer  is  recited  only  when  their 
operations  relating  to  the  corpse  are  finished),  and 
add  in  a  low  voice  :  '  According  to  the  dictates  of 
Ahura  Mazda,  the  dictates  of  the  Amshaspands, 
the  dictates  of  the  holy  Sraosh,  the  dictates  of 
Aderbad-Mahrespand,  the  dictates  of  the  Dastur  of 
this  time.'  Then  they  sit  silent,  while  two  priests, 
having  performed  the  kosti  (cf.  Darmesteter,  op. 
cit.  685  f.)  and  repeated  the  special  prayers  of  the 
gah,  enter  the  chamber,  making  paivand,  put  on 
their  face-veils,  '  take  the  Srosh-baj'  (i.e.  repeat  it 
as  far  as  ashahe),  and  commence  the  Ahunavaiti 
Gatha  (Ys.  xxviii.-xxxiv. ),  keeping  themselves 
near  to  the  door  or  at  least  at  a  distance  of  three 
paces  from  the  corpse.  At  the  words  of  Yasna  xxxi. 
4  :  '  Seek  thou  for  me,  O  Vohu  Manah,  the  mighty 
Kingdom,  through  whose  increase  we  may  over- 
come the  Druj,'  they  stop  ;  the  corpse- bearers  lift 
the  dead  body  on  the  bier,  when  the  priests  turn 
to  the  dead  and  finish  the  Gatha,  after  which  a 
new  sag-did  is  performed.  The  moment  is  now 
come  for  relatives  and  friends,  who  have  gathered 
in  the  house  (or,  in  Yezd,  in  the  common  mortuary, 
the  zad-b-marg,  'birth  and  death,'  or  pursish- 
khanah,  '  inquiry  house '),  to  have  a  last  look  at 
the  deceased.  They  bow  before  the  body,  i.e. 
make  the  sejdo,  before  its  face  is  covered  up. 

9.  Funeral  procession. — Having  earned  the  body 
outside  the  house  (according  to  Vend.  viii.  10,  the 
corpse  should  be  removed  through  a  breach  speci- 
ally made  in  the  wall  of  the  house,  and  in  this 
connexion  it  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  Persian 
zad-b-marg  has  two  doors,  the  corpse  being  brought 
in  by  the  one  and  carried  out  by  the  other),  the 
nasa-salars  entrust  the  bier  to  two  or  more  khan- 
dyas  (who  are  also  sometimes  called  nasa-salars) 
to  bear  it  to  the  '  tower  of  silence. '  Two  priests 
walk  in  the  front  of  the  procession,  at  a  distance 
of  thirty  paces  after  the  bier,  accompanied  by  rela- 
tives and  friends,  two  abreast,  clothed  in  white  and 
making  paivand.     In  Persia,   however,  the  order 


604 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Parsi) 


is  different.  There  the  procession  is  led  by  a  man 
bearing  a  vase  containing  fire  (and  formerly  also 
by  a  musician  playing  a  doleful  air),  followed  by 
the  relatives  and  friends,  the  corpse,  the  priests, 
and  additional  members  of  the  family  of  the  de- 
ceased. Here,  too,  if  the  dakhma  is  far  distant, 
the  body  may  be  conveyed  on  a  cow  or  donkey 
(cf.  the  Pahlavi  commentary  on  Vend.  iii.  14),  and 
the  mourners  may  ride,  though  the  priests  are 
required  to  walk. 

10.  In  the  tower. — At  the  gate  of  the  tower  the 
bier  is  set  down,  the  face  is  uncovered  to  let  the 
accompanying  procession  pay  their  last  respects  to 
the  dead  from  a  distance  of  at  least  three  paces, 
and  once  more  the  sag-did  is  performed.  Now  the 
two  real  nasa-salars,  who  had  arranged  the  body 
on  the  bier  in  the  house,  and  who  alone  are  allowed 
to  enter  the  tower  (not  wearing  their  usual  clothes 
[Vend.  viii.  10],  but  the  so-called  'clothes  of 
dakhma '),  open  its  gate,  which  is  closed  with  an 
iron  lock,  lift  the  bier,  carry  it  into  the  tower, 
place  the  body,  with  the  head  toward  the  south 
(the  auspicious  quarter),  on  one  of  the  beds  of 
stone  (kesh)  arranged  in  concentric  circles,  rising 
like  an  amphitheatre,  which  are  intended  for  re- 
ceiving the  bodies.  These  circles  are  separated  by 
canals  (pavis,  a  word  which  seems  also  to  be  used 
of  the  sections  divided  by  the  canals).  They  re- 
move the  clothes  from  the  corpse,  leaving  it  naked 
( Vend.  vi.  51),  and  cast  them  into  the  central  well, 
forming  the  middle  of  the  tower,  and  surrounded 
by  the  amphitheatre-like  circles  of  stone  beds. 
The  naked  corpse  may  be  left  '  on  the  earth,  on 
clay,  bricks,  and  stone  and  mortar.'  The  vul- 
tures, Nature's  scavengers,  are  already  waiting, 
and  in  one  or  two  hours  they  devour  all  that  is 
corruptible  of  the  body.  Twice  a  year  the  nasa- 
salars  throw  the  skeletons  into  the  well,  where 
sun,  rain,  and  air  soon  reduce  the  whole  to  dust. 
The  Dinkart  to  Vend.  v.  14  considers  the  falling 
of  the  rain  on  the  corpses  in  the  dakhmas  and  on 
the  impure  liquids  as  a  great  advantage.  Formerly 
the  bones  were  preserved  in  an  ossuary. 

'  Whither  shall  we  carry  the  hones  of  the  dead,  Ahura Mazda? 
Where  shall  we  place  them  ? '  Ahura  Mazda  answered  :  '  You 
may  make  a  structure  (uz-danem)  for  them  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  dog,  of  the  fox,  of  the  wolf,  inaccessible  to  the  rain  from 
above.  If  the  Mazdayasnians  are  rich,  they  may  construct  it 
of  stones,  of  plaster,  or  of  earth.  If  they  are  not  rich,  they 
may  place  the  dead  on  the  ground  in  the  light  of  heaven  and 
looking  towards  the  sun '  (Vend.  49-51). 

If,  in  Persia,  a  Zarathushtrian  community  is  too 
small  to  support  a  dakhma,  the  body  'is  carried 
to  some  remote  place  in  the  hills  or  mountains,  is 
then  piled  around  with  stones  and  covered  with  a 
slab,  but  not  interred '  (Jackson,  op.  eit.  p.  394). 

The  Dddistan  (xviii.),  in  the  9th  cent.  A.D., 
recommended  collecting  the  bones  and  putting 
them  in  an  astodan,  elevated  above  the  ground 
and  covered  with  a  roof  to  preserve  them  from 
rain  and  from  animals.  These  receptacles  to  pro- 
tect the  bones  from  the  sun  were  made  of  two 
excavated  stones,  one  forming  the  coffin,  the  other 
the  cover.  They  might  also  be  real  monuments, 
perhaps  corresponding  to  the  caves  of  the  Achse- 
menians  at  Naksh-i  Rustam  (Modi,  'An  old  Persian 
Coffin,'  JASB,  1888 ;  cf.  Darmesteter,  op.  cit.  p. 
93,  note  34).  At  the  present  day  the  bones  of  the 
dead  are  no  longer  preserved. 

Vend.  vi.  45,  in  directing  the  dead  to  be  carried  '  to  the  most 
elevated  spots,  where  flesh-eating  dogs  and  flesh-eating  birds 
may  most  surely  perceive  it,'  gave  sanction  to  a  primitive 
method  of  disposing  of  the  dead,  still  practised,  e.g.,  by  the 
Kafirs,  who  expose  their  dead  in  wooden  coffins  on  the  tops  of 
the  mountains  (Lassen,  Ind.  Alterthumskunde,  i.2,  Leipzig,  1867, 
p.  520),  by  some  wild  tribes  of  India  (Crooke,  JAI  xxviii. 
[1899]  246  f.),  and  by  the  Masai,  where  a  person  dying  without 
children  is  abandoned,  some  hundred  yards  outside  the  kraal, 
to  the  hyaenas,  whose  speedy  devouring  of  the  corpse  is  con- 
sidered a  favourable  sign  (Merker,  Die  Masai,  Berlin,  1904, 
p.  193).  The  Hawaiians  threw  their  dead  to  the  Bharks,  etc. 
(Segerstedt,  Le  Monde  oriental,  Upsala,  1 910,  iv.  2,  p.  64).  Accord- 
ing to  Strabo  (p.  517  ;  cf.  Kleuker,  Anhang  zum  Zend-Avesta, 


Eiga,  1783,  n.  iii.  71  f.),  the  Bactrians  threw  their  sick  and  aged 
people  to  dogs,  trained  to  devour  them  ;  the  Caspians  con- 
sidered it  more  auspicious  if  birds  devoured  their  dead  exposed 
in  the  desert  than  if  they  were  eaten  by  dogs  or  wild  animals 
(cf.  Marquart,  Philologus,  Supplem.  x.  [1907]  i.  141). 

11.  Dakhmas. — Special  constructions  or  towers 
(dakhmas),  for  exposing  the  corpses,  are  well 
known  to  the  Avesta.  They  constitute  the  most 
awful  and  impure  spots  on  the  earth,  and  it  is 
one  of  the  greatest  merits  to  demolish  them  when 
they  have  served  their  purpose,  and  thus  restore 
the  ground  to  cultivation  (Vend.  iii.  13,  vii. 
49-58).  The  construction  of  the  actual  '  towers 
of  silence '  used  by  the  Parsis  of  India  is  accom- 
panied by  a  series  of  religious  ceremonies,  the 
consecration  lasting  three  days  (Menant,  Les  Parsis, 
Paris,  1898,  pp.206-235,  with  plans  and  illustrations). 

12.  Dispersion  of  procession. — At  every  dakhma 
a  kind  of  chapel  (sagri)  is  built,  to  which  the 
funeral  procession  retires  while  the  nasa-salars 
do  their  work  with  the  dead  inside  the  tower. 
When  the  nasa-salars  are  ready,  the  assistants, 
gathered  in  the  sagri  or  seated  at  some  distance 
from  the  dakhma,  get  up  and  finish  the  Srosh-baj, 
which  they  had  commenced  before  starting  in  the 
funeral  procession.  In  concluding  the  paivand 
they  recite  this  prayer  :  '  We  repent  of  all  our 
sins.  Our  respects  to  the  souls  of  the  departed ! 
We  remember  here  the  fravashis  of  the  pious  (de- 
parted).' They  then  take  urine  of  the  cow,  wash 
the  naked  parts  of  their  bodies,  make  the  kosti, 
and  repeat  the  Patet,  mentioning  the  name  of  the 
departed  at  the  end  of  the  prayer,  after  which  they 
return  home  and  take  a  bath. 

13.  Ceremonies  at  home. — At  home,  immedi- 
ately after  the  removal  of  the  body,  urine  of  the 
cow  (nirang)  is  sprinkled  over  the  slabs  of  stone 
on  which  the  corpse  was  placed,  and  upon  the 
road  by  which  it  was  carried  out  of  the  house. 
All  clothes,  utensils,  and  other  articles  of  furni- 
ture must  be  cleansed,  principally  by  the  same 
means — gomez  (urine  of  the  cow)  and  water — or 
rejected  altogether,  if  they  have  come  into  any 
contact  with  the  dead  body.  After  the  removal 
of  the  body,  all  the  members  of  the  family  are 
required  to  take  a  bath. 

In  an  ancient  Iranian  province,  Haroiva  (Harat), 
the  custom  recorded  from  later  times  (Chardin, 
Voyages  en  Perse,  Amst.  1735,  iii.  109),  of  abandon- 
ing the  house  to  the  dead,  seems  to  have  prevailed 
according  to  the  vish-harezana  of  Vend.  i.  9  (cf.  N. 
Soderblom,  BHB  xxxix.  [1899]  256  ff. ).  The  Great 
Bundahlshn  gives  the  following  explanation  of 
this  custom  :  '  We  keep  the  prescriptions  (of  re- 
moving the  fire,  the  barashnum,  the  cups,  the 
haoma,  and  the  mortar)  during  nine  days  (in  the 
winter)  or  a  month  (in  summer) '  (cf.  Vend.  v.  39  ff.). 
'  They  abandon  the  house  and  go  away  during  nine 
days  or  a  month'  (Darmesteter,  op.  cit.  p.  9,  note 
20).  It  may  be  that  upaman,  '  waiting '  ( Vend,  v.) 
originally  meant  a  temporary  abandoning  of  the 
house.  At  present,  in  Bombay,  all  the  members  of 
the  family  have  to  take  a  bath  after  the  removal 
of  the  body,  and  fragrant  fire  is  burnt  on  the  spot 
where  the  corpse  was  laid.  During  nine  days  in 
winter  and  one  month  in  summer  a  lamp  is  kept 
burning  on  the  same  spot,  and  no  one  is  allowed  to 
go  near  it  during  that  period.  After  its  expiry  the 
whole  room  is  washed.  The  members  of  the 
family  and  also  near  friends  abstain  from  meat 
during  three  days  after  the  death. 

We  do  not  deal  here  with  the  festivals  and  gifts  intended  for 
the  priest  and  for  the  poor  after  the  death  of  a  wealthy  Parsi, 
or  with  the  recital  of  several  offices  for  his  soul  (see  Immor- 
tality [Parsi]).  The  funeral  expenses  of  an  eminent  Parsi 
gentleman  who  died  in  1763  amounted  to  more  than  733  rupees, 
which  would  mean  more  than  double  this  sum  at  present 
(Bomanji  Byramji  Patell,  JASB  iii.  144  ff.). 

14.  Recent  opposition. — In  some  circles  of  Parsi 
society  the  question  of  introducing  a  more  hygienic 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Roman) 


605 


and  less  savage  manner  of  disposing  of  the  dead 
has  of  late  been  very  eagerly  agitated.  Both 
burning  and  burying  being  prohibited  because  of 
the  purity  of  fire  and  earth,  it  has  been  proposed 
to  consume  the  corpse  by  electricity,  and  the  exe- 
getical  question  has  been  discussed  whether  such 
a  method  can  be  considered  as  burning  or  not.  No 
change  has  been  officially  permitted  as  yet  in  the 
disposal  of  the  dead,  which  shows  the  tenacity 
of  custom,  and  maintains  continuity  with  an 
immemorial  antiquity. 

Literature. — J.  J.  Modi,  '  On  the  Funeral  Ceremonies  of  the 
Parsees,  their  Origin  and  Explanation/  in  JASB  ii.  (1892); 
J.  Darmesteter,  Le  Zend-Avesta,  ii.  146  ft\,  Paris,  1892;  D. 
Menant,  Les  Parsis,  Paris,  1898  ;  D.  F.  Karaka,  Hist,  of  the 
Parsis,  i.  192  fl .,  London,  1884  ;  A.  V.  W.  Jackson,  Persia  Past 
and  Present,  pp.  387-394,  London,  1906  ;  Khudayar  Sheheryar, 
4  A  Zoroastrian  Death  in  Persia '  (in  Gujarati),  in  Zartoshti,  i. 
169-181. 

Nathan  Soderblom. 

15.  Ancient  Persian  rites. — In  ancient  Persia, 
before  the  spread  of  Zoroastrianism,  the  means  of 
disposal  of  the  dead  were  quite  different  from 
those  observed  by  the  adherents  of  the  great 
Iranian  religious  leader.  Attention  has  already 
been  called,  in  §  10,  to  the  Bactrian  custom  of 
leaving  the  sick  and  the  aged  to  be  devoured  by 
dogs — a  practice  recorded  not  only  by  Strabo  (p. 
517),  but  by  Cicero  {Tusc.  Disp.  i.  45)  and  by 
Eusebius  (Prcep.  evang.  I.  iv.  7).  Both  Herodotus 
(i.  140)  and  Strabo  (p.  735)  expressly  state  that, 
while  the  Magi  exposed  their  dead  to  dogs  or 
birds  (as  the  A  vesta  enjoins),  the  Persians  interred 
the  dead  body  after  coating  it  with  wax  (nara- 
K-rjpuiaavTes  dij  &v  rov  v£kvv  Htpaai  77?  KpWrovai).  It 
was,  therefore,  rank  blasphemy  {ovx  lima)  when 
Cambyses  ordered  the  corpse  of  Amasis  to  be 
cremated  (Herodotus,  iii.  16)  ;  and  it  is  very 
doubtful  whether  any  credence  can  be  given  to 
Xenophon's  account  (Cyropced.  VIII.  vii.  25)  of  the 
request  of  the  dying  Cyrus — '  Put  my  body,  my 
children,  when  I  die,  neither  in  gold  nor  in  silver 
nor  in  anything  else,  but  commit  it  to  the  earth 
as  soon  as  may  be  (t-q  yrj  ws  raxtara  atrobore).  For 
what  is  more  blessed  than  this,  to  be  mingled  with 
the  earth  (77?  /iixSwai)  ? ' — since  this  last  phrase 
would  seem  to  exclude  any  coating  of  the  body 
with  wax.  Equal  suspicion  seems  to  attach  to 
Xenophon's  story  (ib.  vii.  3)  of  the  death  of  Abra- 
dates,  for  whom  a  grave  was  prepared,  and  whose 
dead  head  was  held  on  her  lap  by  his  wife,  whose 
corpse,  after  her  suicide,  and  his  were  both 
covered  over  by  her  nurse  before  burial.  Ctesias, 
however,  who  is  much  more  reliable  than  his  ancient 
contemporaries  would  allow,  may  be  right  when 
he  states  {Pers.  59)  that  Parysatis  buried  the  head 
and  right  hand  of  Cyrus  the  Younger,  for  here  the 
wax  coating  may  perhaps  have  been  employed. 

Unfortunately,  our  sole  information  on  this  sub- 
ject must  thus  far  be  gleaned  from  the  meagre 
statements  of  the  classics.  If  we  may  judge  from 
the  tombs  of  the  Achaemenians,  their  bodies 
were  not  exposed  as  Zoroastrianism  dictated  ;  but 
it  is  by  no  means  impossible  that  they  were 
coated  with  wax,  or  even,  as  Jackson  also  sug- 
gests (Persia  Past  and  Present,  p.  285),  '  perhaps 
embalmed  after  the  manner  of  the  Egyptians.' 
According  to  Arrian  (Anab.  VI.  xxix.  4-11),  the 
body  {0-w/j.a)  of  Cyrus  was  laid  in  a  coffin  of  gold 
(iriieXoc  xpw")" ;  cf.  Jackson,  loe.  cit.  and  p.  304  f., 
for  further  references). 

All  this  was,  of  course,  changed  when  Persia 
definitely  became  Zoroastrian.  In  his  account  of 
the  obsequies  of  Mermeroes  (t  A.D.  554),  Agathias 
{Hist.  II.  xix.  22)  recognizes  only  the  usage  of  the 
Avesta  (with  the  addition  of  the  exposure  of  the 
sick  while  still  living),  and  he  expressly  says  that 
the  Persians  could  not  place  the  dead  in  a  coffin 
(BilK-g)  or  urn  (Xdpca/a),  or  bury  in  the  earth  (rp  yrj 
Karaxuvvivai) ;  and  the  5th  cent.  Sasanian  monarch 


Kobad  demanded,  though  without  success,  that 
the  Christian  Iberian  ruler  Gurgenes  should  adopt 
the  Persian  custom  of  exposing  the  dead  to  birds 
and  dogs,  instead  of  burying  them  (Procopius, 
de  Ball.  Pers.  i.  12). 

Literature.— In  addition  to  the  works  mentioned  in  the 
previous  section,  reference  may  also  be  made  to  Kleuker, 
Anhang  zum  Zend-Avesta,  11.  iii.  9f.,  57 f.,  144,  Riga,  1783; 
Brisson,  de  Regio  Persarum  principatu,  ed.  Lederlein,  p. 
619H.,  Strassburg,  1710  ;  Rapp,  ZDMG  xx.  [1866]  53-66. 

Louis  H.  Gray. 
DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 

(Roman). — As  in  other  lands  and  in  other  times,  so 
also  among  the  ancient  Romans  the  customs  attend- 
ant upon  death  and  burial  varied  so  considerably 
according  to  wealth,  rank,  occupation,  nationality, 
religion,  place,  and  period  that  no  single  succes- 
sion of  circumstances  may  be  taken  as  typical,  and 
great  caution  must  be  exercised  in  dealing  with  the 
scattered  and  fragmentary  evidence  on  the  subject, 
in  order  to  avoid  confusing  the  particular  with  the 
universal,  or  attributing  to  one  period  the  customs 
peculiar  to  another. 

The  gTeater  part  of  our  evidence  having  to  do 
with  the  upper  classes  during  the  late  Republic 
and  early  Empire,  it  will  be  best  to  re-construct, 
as  a  nucleus  around  which  to  build  up  an  account 
of  burial  customs  in  general,  a  typical  instance  of 
the  death  and  burial  of  a  Roman  grandee  of  the 
1st  cent,  of  the  Empire. 

As  the  man  breathes  his  last,  the  assembled  rela- 
tives loudly  and  repeatedly  call  out  his  name  in  the 
conclamatio — a  more  or  less  formalized  expression 
of  grief  which  is  probably  reminiscent  of  primitive 
attempts  to  wake  the  dead  back  to  life  ;  and  per- 
haps the  nearest  of  kin  kisses  him,  as  if  to  catch 
and  preserve  in  the  family  line  the  last  breath. 
After  the  formal  announcement '  conclamatum  est,' 
the  eyes  are  closed,  and  the  usual  bathing  and 
anointing,  perhaps  embalming,  take  place,  per- 
formed by  one  of  the  household,  or  by  the  pro- 
fessional libitinarius  or  pollinctor.  The  body  is 
composed,  arrayed  in  the  toga — the  full  dress  of 
antiquity — ornamented  with  all  the  insignia  won 
during  the  dead  man's  career,  and  placed  in  state 
on  the  lectus  funebris  in  the  atrium,  or  main 
chamber  of  the  house,  with  the  feet  towards  the 
street-door.  There  are  also  flowers,  coronas  of 
honour,  and  burning  censers  supported  on  cande- 
labra. Near  by  are  attendants,  among  them  being 
sometimes  included  paid  mourners  who  chant 
the  funeral  wail.  [These  details  may  be  seen  in 
the  Lateran  Museum  on  the  tomb  relief  of  the 
Haterii,  a  family  of  considerable  importance  dur- 
ing the  latter  part  of  the  1st  century.]  Possibly  a 
coin  is  placed  in  the  mouth  as  passage-money  across 
the  Styx — a  custom  always  in  vogue  to  some  extent. 
A  wax  impression  of  the  face  is  then  taken,  after- 
wards to  occupy  its  niche  in  the  ala,  a  state  room 
off  the  atrium,  along  with  the  masks  (imagines)  of 
the  ancestral  line,  and  to  be  supplied  with  the 
appropriate  inscription,  or  titulus,  recording  the 
name,  years,  offices,  and  deeds  of  the  dead.  Out- 
side, the  fact  of  death  is  made  known,  and  the 
proper  safeguard  taken  against  chance  religious  or 
social  impropriety,  by  the  hanging  of  a  cypress-  or 
pine-branch  at  the  entrance  of  the  house. 

In  due  time,  which  in  ordinary  cases  is  as  soon 
as  arrangements  can  be  made,  and  in  funerals  of 
state  from  three  to  seven  days,  the  last  ceremonies 
take  place.  Criers  go  through  the  streets  announc- 
ing its  coming  occurrence  in  the  ancient  formula  : 
'  Ollus  Quiris  leto  datus.  Exsequias,  quibus  est 
commodum,  ire  iam  tempus  est.  Ollus  ex  aedibus 
effertur'  ('This  citizen  has  been  given  over  to 
death.  His  obsequies  those  who  find  it  convenient 
may  now  attend.  He  is  being  carried  forth  from 
his  dwelling').  Under  the  supervision  of  the 
designator  and  his  attendant  lictors,   the  stately 


506 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Roman) 


funeral-train  takes  form  and  moves:  musicians, 
and  perhaps  paid  singers ;  dancers  and  panto- 
mimists,  who  jest  freely,  sometimes  impersonating 
in  humorous  wise  even  the  deceased  ;  a  succession 
of  cars,  at  times  amounting  to  hundreds  (six 
hundred  at  the  funeral  of  Marcellus),  on  which  sit 
actors  dressed  to  impersonate  the  long  line  of  the 
dead  man's  ancestors,  wearing  their  death-masks, 
now  taken  from  the  niches  in  the  alee,  and  accom- 
panied by  lictors,  as  in  life — symbolically  conduct- 
ing the  most  recent  of  the  family  line  to  take  his 
place  with  his  forefathers  in  the  lower  world ;  a 
display  of  the  dead  man's  memorials — trophies, 
horses,  dogs,  insignia,  painted  representations  of 
his  exploits — after  the  manner  of  a  triumph  ;  more 
lictors,  with  down-pointed  fasces,  reminiscent  of 
olden-time  burial  by  night ;  and  then,  high  on  a 
funeral  car,  the  dead  himself,  with  face  exposed  to 
the  sky,  or  enclosed  in  a  casket  and  represented  by 
a  realistic  figure  clad  in  his  clothes  and  death-mask ; 
the  immediate  mourners — sons  with  veiled  heads, 
daughters  bareheaded  with  flowing  hair ;  and  finally 
the  general  public,  not  without  demonstration.  On 
both  sides,  as  the  procession  passes,  is  the  Roman 
populace,  pressing  to  the  line,  and  climbing  up 

'  To  towers  and  windows,  yea,  to  chimney  tops,' 
to  witness  what  must  have  been  one  of  the  greatest 
spectacles  of  all  time. 

Arrived  at  the  Forum,  the  great  centre  of  civic 
life,  the  dead  is  carried  to  the  Rostra,  on  which, 
surrounded  by  his  ghostly  ancestry,  he  lies  while 
his  nearest  relative  delivers  over  him  the  laudatio, 
a  formal  and  often  extravagant  glorification  of  the 
deceased  and  his  forefathers  which  is  preserved 
among  the  family  archives,  and  whose  uncritical 
use  will  do  so  much  to  falsify  or  distort  Roman 
history.  The  procession  then  forms  again,  resumes 
its  way,  and  passes  through  the  city-gate  to  the 
destined  place  of  cremation  or  inhumation  at  one 
of  the  great  mausolea,  such  as  that  of  Augustus,  at 
the  north  end  of  the  Campus  Martius,  or  in  one  of 
the  long  lines  of  lots  which  border  the  high  road. 
Here  the  dead,  with  ornaments,  weapons,  and 
other  possessions  dear  in  life,  together  with  many 
memorials  brought  by  friends  and  relatives,  is 
placed  upon  an  elaborate  pyre,  to  which,  with 
averted  face,  the  nearest  relative  or  friend,  or  some 
civic  dignitary,  applies  the  torch.  As  the  flames 
rise  to  the  summit  of  the  pyre,  perhaps  they  liber- 
ate from  his  lightly  fastened  cage  an  eagle,  which 
soars  aloft — the  symbol  of  the  spirit  of  the  dead 
setting  out  for  its  home  among  the  immortals. 
The  embers  are  quenched  with  water  or  wine,  the 
final  farewell  (another  conclamatio)  is  uttered,  and 
all  return  to  the  city  except  the  immediate  rela- 
tives, who  collect  the  ashes  of  the  departed  in  a 
napkin,  bury  the  os  resect um  (see  below)  to  pre- 
serve the  form  of  earth-burial,  perform  a  purifica- 
tory sacrifice,  and  partake  of  the  funeral-meal  in 
the  family  tomb-chapel. 

There  follow  nine  days  of  mourning,  on  one  of 
which  the  now  dry  ashes  are  enclosed  in  an  urn  of 
marble  or  metal,  and  carried  by  a  member  of  the 
family,  barefooted  and  ungirdled,  to  their  final 
resting-place  in  the  tomb-chamber.  At  the  end  of 
this  period,  the  sacrum  novendiale,  a  feast  to  the 
dead,  is  celebrated  at  the  tomb,  and  a  funeral- 
banquet  is  held  at  the  home.  Mourning  continues 
ten  months  for  husbands,  wives,  parents,  adult 
sons  and  daughters,  eight  months  for  other  adult 
relatives,  and  in  the  case  of  children  for  as  many 
months  as  they  have  years.  Memorial  festivals, 
which  partake  of  the  nature  of  a  communion,  are 
celebrated  on  Feb.  13-21,  the  Parentalia,  or  pagan 
All-Souls'  Day  ;  again  on  the  birth  or  burialanni- 
versary ;  and  again  at  the  end  of  March  and  May, 
the  Violaria  and  Rosaria,  when  violets  and  roses  are 
profusely  distributed,  lamps  lighted  in  the  tomb- 


chambers,  funeral-banquets  held,  and  offerings  made 
to  the  gods  and  to  the  manes,  or  spirits  of  the  dead. 

Such  a  funeral,  though  not  unfamiliar  to  the 
Roman  people,  was  the  exception  rather  than  the 
rule.  The  imposing  nature  of  the  whole — the 
splendour  of  its  appointments,  the  dignity  of  the 
participants,  the  impressiveness  of  the  stately 
train,  with  its  hundreds  of  impersonated  praetorians 
and  consulars,  traversing  the  principal  thorough- 
fares between  thronging  spectators — may  best  be 
compared  with  the  funerals  of  Italian  royalty  in 
modern  times,  though  the  latter  probably  fall  far 
short  of  the  magnificence  of  the  ancient  ceremony. 

The  funerals  of  middle  and  lower  class  people, 
and  of  most  of  the  upper  class,  were  less  ostenta- 
tious, and  unaccompanied  by  the  laudatio,  the  dis- 
play of  death-masks,  and  the  paraphernalia  of 
wealth.  Children,  citizens  of  the  lowest  class,  and 
slaves  were  carried  to  their  last  rest  without  public 
procession,  and  with  few  formalities. 

Unlike  modern  burial-places,  the  Roman  ceme- 
teries were  not  public  communal  enclosures  set 
apart  by  themselves,  but  were  situated  along  the 
great  highways  that  led  from  the  city-gates,  and 
took  the  form  of  a  very  long  and  narrow  series  of 
private  holdings,  whose  front,  occupied  by  imposing 
monuments,  bordered  immediately  on  the  road. 
All  streets  leading  from  Rome  had  their  tombs, 
and  the  location  of  sepulchres  along  them  in  the 
country  also,   on  landed    estates,   was  frequent. 
Most  prominent  among  the  highway  cemeteries  at 
Rome  were  the  Via  Flaminia  and  the  Via  Salaria 
on  the  north,  the  Tiburtina  and  the  Praenestina 
on  the  east,  the   Latina  and  the  Appia  on  the 
south,  and  the  Aurelia  on  the  west.     Most  magnifi- 
cent of  all  was  the  Appian  Way,  Regina  Viarum, 
which  still    displays    almost    unbroken    lines    of 
tomb-ruins  from  its  issue  at  the  old  Servian  Porta 
Capena  to  the  Alban  Mount,  fourteen  miles  away. 
Among  its  two  hundred  or  more  larger  monuments, 
displaying  great  variety  of  architecture  and  orna- 
mentation, are  to  be  seen  most  of  the  types  of  the 
Roman  tomb  :  the  mausoleum,  round,  and  probably 
once  with  conical  summit,  copied  and  named  after 
the  tomb  of  Mausolus,  the  king  of  Icaria,  who  died 
about  351  B.C.  ;    the  tumulus,  a  conical  mound 
heaped  over  the  body  or  ashes  of  the  dead,  also 
reminiscent  of  Asia  ;  the  tomb  above  ground  ;  the 
tomb  excavated  in  the  tufa  bed  of  the  Campagna  ; 
the  combination  of   both,   with  tomb  below  and 
chamber  above  ;  the  columbarium,  for  the  reception 
of  the  cremated  dead  of  burial-associations  ;  the 
chambers  in  series  called  '  catacombs '  (q.v. ).  Burial 
lots  were  marked  by  boundary  stones,  inscribed 
with  measurements  :  e.g.  '  infrontep.  xvi.  in  agro 
p.  xxii.'  ('frontage,  16  ft.,  depth,  22  ft.').     Threats 
and  curses  were  frequently  added  to  safeguard  the 
area  and  monuments  against  violation  or  profana- 
tion.     The  more    pretentious  areas    were    great 
family  burial-places,  where  were  laid  to  rest  all 
the  members  of  a  gens,   or   branch  of    a   gens, 
including  its  freedmen  and  slaves,  and  sometimes 
even  clients  and  friends.    Such  a  burial-place  might 
include  a  generous  plot  of  ground,  with  an  area 
before  the  tomb,  a  garden  behind,  an  ustrina,  or 
crematory,  mdiculce,  or  shrines  with  statues  of  the 
dead,  banquet-room  for  anniversary  use,  pavilion, 
well,   and  custodian's    quarters.      The    epitaphs, 
incised  upon  slabs  let  into  the  front  of  the  monu- 
ment,  or  on  tombstones  at  the  graves  of  indi- 
viduals, or  near  the  remains  inside  the  vault,  are 
characterized  by  great  variety  of  content  and  ex- 
pression.    Name,  parentage,  public  offices,  and  an 
accurate  statement  of  the  length  of  life  are  found 
in  most  of  them,  without  dates  of  death  and  birth. 
A  type  may  be  seen  in  that  of  Minucia,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Fundanus,  whose  death  is  the  subject  of 
Pliny's  Ep.  v.  16  : 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Roman) 


507 


'  D.  M.  Alinuciae  Marcellae  Fundani  F.  Vix.  A.  XII.,  M.  XI., 
D.  VII.'  ('To  the  Departed  Spirit  [Dis  Manibus]  of  Minucia 
Marcella,  the  Daughter  of  Fundanus,  who  lived  12  years,  11 
months,  and  7  days ')  (CIL  vi.  16631). 
A  portrait- bust  sometimes  accompanied  theepitaph, 
and  it  was  not  infrequent  for  the  inscription  to  be 
in  the  form  of  an  address  to  the  passer-by  from  the 
mouth  of  the  departed,  as  the  quaint  archaistic 
one  of  Marcus  Caecilius,  which  lies  by  the  Appian 
Way  (CIL  i.  1006) : 

1  Hoc  est  factum  monumentum  Maarco  Caicilio. 
Hospes,  gratuin  est  quom  apud  meas  restitistei  seedes. 
Bene  rem  geras  et  valeag  ;  dorraias  sine  qura.' 
('  This  monument  is  erected  to  Marcus  Caecilius.     Stranger,  it 
gives  me  pleasure  that  you  have  stopped  at  my  resting-place. 
Good  fortune  attend  you,  and  fare  you  well ;  may  you  sleep 
without  care.') 

Such  appeals  as  this  upon  stones,  the  use  of 
portrait-sculpture,  and  the  custom  of  roadside 
burial  illustrate  the  Roman  yearning  for  continued 
participation  in  the  affairs  of  the  living,  and  an 
instinctive  conviction  as  to  future  existence. 

Among  the  lower  classes,  especially  freedmen 
and  the  labouring  part  of  the  population,  a  most 
popular  form  of  tomb  was  the  columbarium,  so 
named  because  of  its  resemblance  to  a  dove-cot. 
Long  narrow  vaults  were  either  built  above  ground 
or  excavated  in  the  tufa,  and  in  their  walls  were 
formed  numerous  compact  rows  of  niches,  each  of  a 
size  barely  large  enough  to  receive  an  urn  contain- 
ing the  ashes  of  one  person,  whose  identity  was 
made  known  by  a  titulus  upon  a  slab  below  the 
urn,  or  on  the  urn  itself,  sometimes  accompanied 
by  a  small  portrait-bust.  One  of  these  columbaria 
on  the  Via  Appia,  from  which  three  hundred 
tituli  have  been  preserved,  was  for  the  use  of  the 
freedmen  of  Augustus  and  Livia.  Such  tombs 
were  sometimes  given  as  benevolences,  and  some- 
times erected  by  speculators,  but  it  was  more  usual 
for  them  to  be  constructed,  or  at  least  managed, 
by  collegia  funeraticia,  co-operative  funeral  asso- 
ciations, which  sold  stock,  assessed  regular  dues, 
and  paid  benefits,  thus  ensuring  their  members 
proper  disposition  after  death.  They  were  ad- 
ministered by  curatores,  who  divided  and  assigned 
the  space  by  lot  to  the  shareholders,  who  might  in 
turn  sell  their  holdings. 

The  lot  of  the  ordinary  slave  and  the  very  poorest 
class  of  citizens  was  less  fortunate.  Outside  the 
line  of  the  Servian  Wall,  where  it  crossed  the 
plateau  of  the  Esquiline,  there  existed,  down  to  the 
time  of  Horace  (when  it  was  covered  with  earth 
and  transformed  into  the  Gardens  of  Maecenas),  a 
great  burial-ground  which  might  be  called  '  the 
potter's  field '  of  Rome.  Here,  as  shown  by  exca- 
vations made  from  1872  onwards,  was  an  area  of 
irregular  dimensions  extending  a  mile  or  more 
along  the  wall,  from  near  the  present  railway- 
station  on  the  north-east  to  the  Lateran  on  the 
south-east,  which  had  served  as  a  necropolis  from 
time  immemorial,  and  was  the  burial-ground  to 
which  Horace  made  reference  in  Sat.  I.  viii. 
8-16 : 

'  Hue  prius  angustis  eiecta  cadavera  cellis 
Conservus  vili  portanda  locabat  in  area ; 
Hoc  miserae  plebi  stabat  commune  sepulchrum, 
Pantolabo  scurrae  Nomentanoque  nepoti. 
Mille  pedes  in  fronte,  trecentos  cippus  in  agrum 
Hie  dabat,  heredes  monumentum  ne  sequeretur. 
Nunc  licet  Esquiliis  habitare  salubribus,  atque 
Aggere  in  aprico  spatiari,  quo  modo  tristes 
Albis  informem  spectabant  ossibus  agrum' 
('  Hither,  of  yore,  their  fellow-slave  contracted  to  carry  in  their 
cheap  coffins  the  dead  sent  forth  from  their  narrow  dwellings  ; 
here  lay  the  common  sepulchre  of  the  wretched  plebs,   for 
Pantola'bus  the  knave,  and  Nomentanus  the  ne'er-do-weel.    A 
thousand  feet  front,  three  hundred  feet  deep  were  the  limits  ; 
the  monument  not  to  follow  the  heirs.    To-day  you  may  dwell 
on  a  healthful  Esquiline,  and  take  walks  on  the  sunny  agger, 
where  but  now  your  sad  gaze  rested  upon  a  field  ugly  with 
whitening  bones '). 

The  reference  in  the  above  lines  to  the  cheap 
coffins,  the  slave  hireling,  the  contrast  between  the 
gloomy  bone-strewn  Esquiline  of  former  days  and 


the  healthful  gardens  of  the  present,  and  the 
sardonic  allusion  to  the  cippus  as  the  one  monument 
of  a  whole  city  of  wretched  poor  constitute  an 
eloquent  comment  on  the  mortuary  destiny  of  the 
lowest  class,  though  to  interpret  literally  the  poet's 
mention  of  whitening  bones  seems  unnecessary. 
Excavation  has  revealed  pit-graves  13  to  16  ft. 
square  and  of  great  depth,  in  which  the  bodies  of 
the  criminal  and  otherwise  unfortunate  were  de- 
posited one  above  the  other,  unburned,  and  with 
little  ceremony. 

Cremation  and  inhumation  existed  side  by  side 
throughout  the  pagan  period.  The  earliest  ceme- 
teries— the  lowest  stratum  of  that  on  the  Esquiline, 
and  the  necropolis  recently  (1902)  excavated  on 
the  Sacred  Way  near  the  Forum — contain  both 
cinerary  urns  and  sarcophagi,  the  latter  being 
sometimes  made  of  hollowed  tree-trunks.  The 
later  strata  on  the  Esquiline  also  contain  both. 
The  Cornelian  gens  held  to  earth-burial  until  Sulla 
chose  cremation  as  a  measure  of  safety.  The 
tomb-chambers  of  the  Scipios,  a  branch  of  the 
Cornelian  gens,  on  the  Appian  Way  inside  the 
Wall  of  Aurelian,  were  filled  with  sarcophagi  con- 
taining unburned  dead  ;  and  in  many  large  tombs 
the  heads  of  families  "were  laid  away  in  sarcophagi, 
while  the  cremated  remains  of  their  freedmen  and 
the  humbler  members  of  the  household  were  de- 
posited about  them  in  the  same  chamber.  In- 
humation, as  the  cheaper  and  more  natural  method, 
seems  to  have  been  the  earlier,  basic,  and  popular 
custom  ;  even  in  Augustan  times,  when  cremation 
was  as  nearly  universal  as  it  ever  became,  it  was  the 
custom  to  perform  at  least  a  symbolical  burial  of 
the  body  by  the  interment  of  a  small  part  of  it, 
the  os  resectum,  usually  a  joint  of  the  little  finger. 

The  foregoing  account  of  death  and  burial  has  to 
do  principally  with  the  1st  cent.  A.D.  and  with  the 
city  of  Rome.  Naturally,  there  were  variations  in 
detail  before  and  after  this  period  :  e.g.  burial  by 
night  was  the  practice  of  earlier  times,  and  was 
prescribed  again  by  Julian,  on  the  ground  of  incon- 
venience to  urban  business  caused  by  diurnal  rites  ; 
the  cemeteries  of  the  earliest  times  were  less 
distant  from  the  heart  of  the  city,  by  reason  of 
the  lesser  circumference  of  the  primitive  walls, 
each  successive  fortification  carrying  the  line  of 
tombs  farther  out  because  of  the  law  forbidding 
burial  within  the  city  limit ;  there  was  less  of  both 
display  and  poverty  before  the  rise  of  the  Empire  ; 
sumptuary  laws  governing  funerals  were  known 
from  the  first  centuries  of  the  city ;  the  employ- 
ment of  chambers  and  galleries  excavated  in  the 
bed  of  the  Campagna,  long  known  on  a  small 
scale,  grew  much  more  general  and  extensive  after 
the  rise  of  Christian  Rome,  developing  into  the 
great  communal  burying-places  called  '  catacombs '; 
cremation  died  out  because  of  its  expensiveness 
and  the  influence  of  belief  in  the  resurrection.  As 
to  other  cities,  practice  there  was  essentially  the 
same  as  at  Rome ;  and  in  small  towns  in  the 
country  a  great  deal  of  conservatism  no  doubt 
obtained,  manifest  in  the  retention  of  customs  long 
after  they  had  gone  out  in  the  capital. 

All  periods  of  the  history  of  Roman  burial,  how- 
ever, are  unified  by  the  belief  in  the  continued 
existence  of  the  dead,  and  in  his  ghostly  participa- 
tion in  the  life  of  the  family  and  community,  and 
by  the  consequent  scrupulous  care  about  proper 
burial,  and  the  maintenance  of  right  relations  with 
the  spirits  of  dead  ancestors.  The  quick  and  the 
dead  of  ancient  Rome  were  in  a  more  than  usually 
intimate  communion. 

Literature. — The  appropriate  chapters  in  S.  B.  Platner, 
Topography  and  Monuments  of  Ancient  Rome  2,  Boston,  1911 ; 
I.  H.  Middleton,  Remains  of  Ancient  Rome,  London,  1892 ; 
J.  Marquardt,  Das  Privatleben  der  Raraer^,  Leipzig,  1886; 
Daremberg-Saglio,  Diet,  des  Ant.  gr.  et  ram.,  Paris,  1870 ff., 

s.v.  'Funus.1  Grant  Showerman. 


508 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Slavic) 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 
(Slavic). — The  subject  of  death  and  the  disposal  of 
the  dead,  so  far  as  the  Slavic  peoples  are  con- 
cerned, was  discussed  with  considerable  fullness 
in  the  art.  Aryan  Religion,  vol.  ii.  p.  llb  ff.  It 
cannot  be  doubted  that  the  primitive  conditions  in 
this  particular  phase  of  human  life,  though  to 
some  extent  overlaid  with  a  dressing  of  Christian 
thought  and  practice,  have  been  maintained  most 
faithfully  among  the  peoples  in  question,  and  it 
was  therefore  quite  natural  that  the  writer  of  that 
article  should  begin  with  Slavic  ideas  and  customs, 
so  that,  by  comparing  these  with  the  correspond- 
ing phenomena  among  the  linguistically  allied 
races,  viz.  the  Indian,  Iranian,  Greek,  Roman, 
Celtic,  Teutonic,  and  Lithuanian,  he  might  carry 
his  investigation  back  to  the  so-called  Aryan 
period.  There  is  consequently  no  need  to  cover 
the  same  ground  again,  but  it  may  not  be  out  of 
place  to  record  here  such  facts  as  have  emerged, 
or  have  come  to  the  writer's  knowledge,  since  the 
appearance  of  the  article  referred  to.  We  shall 
arrange  these  fresh  data  under  five  heads. 

i.  Burial  and  burning  of  the  corpse  (cf.  Aryan 
Religion,  vol.  ii.  p.  16  f.). — In  the  early  historical 
period,  as  was  shown  in  the  passage  cited,  both  of 
these  methods  were  in  operation — probably  simul- 
taneously— among  the  Slavs,  and,  as  recent  archaeo- 
logical investigation  shows,  they  prevailed  also  in 
the  pre-historic  age.  With  reference  to  burial, 
there  has  recently  come  to  light  a  most  remark- 
able correspondence  between  Middle  Germany  and 
Southern  Russia  in  regard  to  the  practice  of  con- 
structing the  tomb  in  the  form  of  a  hut. 

At  Leubingen,  a  station  on  the  railway  from 
Erfurt  (Thuringia)  to  Sangerhansen,  and  not  far 
from  Sommerda,  there  is  a  now  celebrated  sepul- 
chral mound,  which  has  been  excavated  by  Prof. 
Klopfleisch,  a  long  misunderstood  pioneer  in  the 
study  of  primitive  history.  Near  Helmsdorf,  again, 
a  village  at  no  great  distance  from  Leubingen,  in 
the  so-called  Mannsfeld  Seekreis,  another  mound, 
similar  in  many  respects  to  that  at  Leubingen, 
was  recently  opened  (cf.  P.  Hbfer,  in  Jahrejsschr. 
f.  d.  Vorgesch.  d.  sachs.-thuring.  Lander,  v.  [Halle, 
1906];  and  H.  Grossler,  ib.  vi.  [1907]).  In  each 
case  the  remains  (which  in  the  mound  at  Leubingen 
lay  upon  a  flooring  of  wood,  and  in  that  near 
Helmsdorf  in  a  bed-shaped  chest  of  hewn  timber) 
had  been  arched  over  by  an  actual  wooden  hut  of 
excellent  workmanship,  with  a  steep  roofing,  the 
planks  of  which  in  the  Leubingen  example  were 
thatched  with  reeds.  The  remains  found  at 
Leubingen  were  those  of  an  elderly  man,  across 
whose  breast  had  been  laid  the  body  of  a  girl  some 
ten  years  old,  while  the  Helmsdorf  mound,  to  all 
appearance,  contained  but  a  single  body,  in  a 
doubled-up  position.  The  objects  found  beside 
the  dead  in  both  cases — bronze  axes,  dagger-rods 
and  daggers,  small  chisels,  a  diorite  hammer,  and 
also  numerous  ornaments  in  gold,  such  as  armlets, 
pins,  spiral  rings  and  bracelets— point  to  the 
Bronze  Age  (c.  1500  B.C.  ?),  and  also  show  that  the 
dead  had  been  persons  of  rank.  In  a  dense  layer 
of  ashes  under  the  chest  in  the  Helmsdorf  mound 
were  found  the  skeletons  of  two  men,  who  had 
doubtless  been  given  to  the  dead  as  his  servants. 
But  the  most  interesting  feature  of  either  barrow 
is  unquestionably  the  wooden  hut,  designed  un- 
mistakably to  provide  a  house  for  the  dead. 

Now,  although  students  of  pre-historic  times  are 
as  yet  unaware  of  the  fact,  similar,  and,  indeed, 
almost  identical  erections  are  found  in  great  pro- 
fusion in  the  Russian  hurgans,  i.e.  the  sepulchral 
mounds  which  lend  a  picturesque  variety  to  the 
monotony  of  the  Steppes  in  the  districts  to  the 
north  of  the  Black  Sea.  These  erections  are  met 
with,   moreover,   not   only    in  the    kurgans  con-  I 


structed  by  the  Scythian  tribes  who  once  domin- 
ated that  region,  but  also  in  those  dating  from  the 
earlier  epochs,  which  in  so  many  respects  still 
require  investigation.  It  will  be  to  the  purpose, 
therefore,  to  give  a  relatively  full  description  of  a 
single  specimen  of  the  South-Russian  burial-huts 
— that,  namely,  discovered  in  1903  by  V.  A. 
Gorodzov  in  a  kurgan  situated  in  the  Government 
of  Ekaterinoslav,  and  dating,  according  to  its 
discoverer,  from  the  close  of  the  second  millennium 
B.C.  (cf.  Results  of  the  Archaeological  Excavations 
in  the  District  of  Bachmut  in  the  Government  of 
Ekaterinoslav  in  1903  ([Russ.],  Moscow,  1907,  p. 
152  ff. ).  In  the  heart  of  the  kurgan  was  a  spacious 
square  cavity,  on  the  floor  of  which  rested  a  frame- 
work box  of  thick  oak  boards  —  some  kind  of 
coffin.  Between  the  walls  of  the  cavity  and  the 
box,  on  the  east  side,  lay  a  red-coloured  jar  and  a 
cow's  head,  while  each  of  the  four  corners  of  the 
cavity  contained  a  cow's  foot.  Inside  the  box  was 
the  doubled-up  skeleton  of  a  woman,  lying  on  its 
left  side,  with  the  head  turned  towards  the  north- 
east, and  the  wrists  under  the  face.  At  the  neck 
of  the  skeleton  were  found  small  fragments  of 
bronze  beads  or  other  ornaments  of  the  Kind.  In 
front  of  the  face  stood  an  earthen  vessel ;  and 
before  the  breast  were  a  number  of  rattles,  which 
had  been  cut  from  the  backbone  of  an  animal. 
The  skeleton  lay  on  chalky  earth,  but  the  skull 
had  a  pillow  of  rushes.  The  most  striking  feature 
of  this  burial  vault,  however,  is  the  hut  erected 
over  the  chest.  This  hut  was  supported  by  two 
posts  fixed  in  roundish  holes  at  the  head  and  feet 
of  the  skeleton,  but  outside  the  box  in  which  it 
lay.  The  post  supported  a  beam,  which  had 
branches  leaning  against  it  on  either  side,  so  form- 
ing the  sloping  framework  of  the  roof ;  the 
branches,  again,  were  covered  with  reeds.  Upon 
the  roof-beam  stood  a  number  of  pots  upside  down, 
and  also  a  badly-weathered  quern  of  sandstone. 
Above  these  was  a  layer  of  ashes,  containing  a 
cow's  head,  four  cow's  legs,  a  large  pot  with  a 
dimpled  ornamentation  at  its  neck  and  a  perfor- 
ated bottom,  incinerated  bones,  and  a  whetstone. 

As  bearing  upon  the  primitive  history  of  Russia, 
and  even  of  Europe,  however,  these  discoveries  are 
surpassed  in  importance  by  the  places  for  the 
cremation  of  corpses — perhaps  the  oldest  in  Europe 
— which  have  been  discovered  in  the  valleys  of 
the  Dniester  and  the  Dnieper,  to  the  east  of  the 
Carpathians,  and  at  no  remote  distance  from  the 
localities  above  referred  to.  These  places  for 
cremation  date,  for  the  most  part,  from  a  late 
Neolithic  civilization,  which  yields  little  of  im- 
portance, but  in  their  pottery  they  furnish  a  new 
factor  in  the  cultural  development  of  Europe, 
extending,  as  it  does,  towards  the  west,  across 
Southern  Russia  and  Bessarabia,  and  to  the  north 
of  the  Balkan  Peninsula.  Among  its  character- 
istic products  are  magnificently  painted  vessels, 
with  plastic  decorations  of  bulls  heads  and  the 
like,  and  numerous  idols,  mainly  representing 
women  and  cattle. 

The  last-mentioned  discoveries  are  due  in  the 
main  to  the  researches  of  Chvojko,  of  Kiev  (Papers 
of  the  Xlth  Archceol.  Congress  at  Kiev  [Russ.],  i. ; 
also  Antiquitis  de  la  region  du  Dniepre  [Collection 
B.  Khanenko,  premiere  livraison,  Kiev,  1899],  and 
[for  Bessarabia]  v.  Stern  ('The  " pre-Mycenaean " 
Civilization  in  Southern  Russia,'  in  Papers  of  the 
Xllth  Archazol.  Congress  in  Ekaterinoslav  [Russ.], 
i.),  and  they  have  been  critically  examined  by  E. 
Meyer,  Gesch.  d.  Altertums,  i.a  (Stuttgart,  1909) 
741  ff.  But  we  are  not  yet  in  a  position  to  identify 
with  certainty  the  peoples  from  whom  emanated 
the  civilizations  thus  traced  at  Tripolje,  to  the 
south  of  Kiev,  and  at  Petreny,  in  Bessarabia. 

2.  The    funeral    procession    (cf.    art.    Aryan 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD  (Tibetan) 


509 


RELIGION,  vol.  ii.  p.  20). — In  the  passage  cited  we 
were  able  to  indicate  that  the  practice  of  bearing 
the  dead  to  the  grave  on  sledges,  even  in  summer, 
once  prevailed  in  certain  parts  of  Russia.  In  an 
exhaustive  work  shortly  referred  to  in  that  passage 
(viz.  '  Sledge,  Boat,  and  Horse  as  Accessories  of 
Burial  Ritual'  [Russ.],  vol.  xvi.  of  the  Moscow 
Drevnosti),  Anucin  has  conclusively  proved  that 
in  ancient  Russia  the  dead  were  often,  even  in 
summer,  conveyed  to  the  grave  on  sledges,  which, 
however,  might  be  either  driven  or  carried.  The 
former  method  is  illustrated  by  a  picture  in  the 
Sylvester  MS  ('Conveyance  of  the  Remains  of  St. 
Glebu  by  Sledge  to  the  new  Church ') ;  the  latter 
by  a  picture  in  the  Sylvester  MS  of  SS.  Boris  and 
Glebu  ( '  Conveyance  of  the  Corpse  of  Prince  St. 
Boris  by  Sledge').  But,  as  the  use  of  the  sledge 
in  funeral  obsequies  is  also  found,  according  to 
Anu6in,  among  many  Finnish  tribes,  and  as  to 
this  day  the  funeral-sledge  often  supersedes  the 
waggon — even  in  the  finest  season  of  the  year — in 
the  north-east  of  Europe,  it  is  safe  to  conjecture 
that  the  Russians  had  adopted  the  practice  from 
the  East  European  peoples  with  whom  they 
mingled  as  they  spread  towards  the  north-east. 
Traces  of  funeral-sledges  are  likewise  found  in 
Egypt,  while  Lyeian  grave-stones  sometimes  ex- 
hibit houses  resting  upon  sledge-runners  (cf.  R. 
Meringer  [Indogerm.  Forschungen,  xix.  [1905] 
409). 

3.  The  gifts  to  the  dead  (cf.  art.  Aryan  Re- 
ligion, vol.  ii.  p.  20  ff.). — Just  as  we  read  in  the 
Iliad  (xxiii.  171  f.)  that  the  four-horse  team  of 
Patroclus  was  burned  upon  his  funeral-pyre,  in 
Herodotus  (iv.  71  f.)  that  large  numbers  of  horses 
were  buried  with  the  Scythian  kings,  and  in  Tacitus 
(Germ.  27)  '  quorundam  [the  Germans]  igni  et  equus 
adicitur ' ;  so  from  the  Russian  bylins,  or  histories, 
we  learn  that  men  were  interred  with  their  horses, 
and  sometimes  even  upon  horseback.  The  burial 
of  BogatyrI  Potok  Mikhail  Ivanovic,  for  example, 
is  thus  described  : 

'  Then  they  began  to  dig  a  grave  there  ; 
They  hollowed  out  a  grave  deep  and  large  : 
A  deep  one,  some  twenty  fathoms  wide. 
And  then  was  Potok  Mikhail  Ivanovic, 
With  his  steed  and  harness  of  war, 
Lowered  into  the  deep  grave. 
And  they  covered  it  with  a  roofing  of  oak, 
And  strewed  it  with  yellow  sand.' 

(Anucin,  loc.  tit.). 

4.  The  funeral  feast  (cf.  art.  Aryan  Religion, 
vol.  ii.  p.  20b) :  attentions  paid  to  the  dead  after 
the  funeral  rites  (Ancestor-worship)  (ib.  23  ff.). — 
The  various  facts — and  especially  those  referring 
to  the  White  Russians — set  forth  in  the  paragraphs 
cited  have  meanwhile  been  largely  supplemented 
from  various  quarters  of  the  Slavic  world.  This 
fresh  information  is  supplied  by  Matthias  Murko 
in  an  art.  entitled  '  Das  Grab  als  Tisch,'  in  Wbrter 
undSachen:  Kulturhist.  Ztschr.f.  Sprach-  u.  Sack- 
forschung,  ed.  R.  Meringer,  etc.,  ii.  1,  Heidelberg, 
1910,  p.  79  ff.  The  first  three  chapters  of  this 
most  instructive  essay  deal  respectively  with  the 
following  subjects  :  (1)  funeral  repasts  of  the  Slavs 
at  the  burial-place  after  the  interment ;  (2)  sepul- 
chral meals  of  the  Slavs  at  the  graves  of  individuals  ; 
and  (3)  sepulchral  meals  on  the  all-souls'-days  and 
at  the  ancestral  feasts  of  the  Slavs,  and  meals  for 
the  dead  among  aliens  in  Russia.  That  Murko  is 
in  this  field  of  inquiry  essentially  at  one  with  the 
present  writer  appears,  e.g.,  from  his  remarks  on 
p.  110  : 

(  For  experts  in  this  study,  it  will  not  be  necessary  that  I 
should  emphasize  the  fact  that  so  many  customs  and  festivals 
still  in  vogue  recall  those  of  the  Greeks  and  the  Romans,  and 
even  surpass  the  latter  in  remoteness  of  origin,  so  that  we  must 
look  for  their  parallels  among  primitive  peoples.  I  shall  merely 
state  that  the  original  purport  of  the  practice  of  eating  and 
drinking  at  the  grave  can  still  be  clearly  recognized :  the 
deceased  still  takes  part  in  the  meal ;  the  mourners  leave  a 
place  vacant  for  him  at  the  grave-table ;  they  expressly  invite 


him ;  they  eat  with  delight  of  his  favourite  dishes ;  they  give 
him  wine  and  honey  to  drink  ;  they  pour  wine  and  water  upon 
the  head  of  his  grave  ;  and  beside  or  upon  the  grave  they  set 
food  for  the  dead,' etc. 

5.  In  the  article  referred  to,  however,  Murko 
carries  his  investigation  considerably  further,  as  in 
subsequent  chapters  he  sketches  the  process  by 
which  the  relics  of  ancient  ancestor-worship  have 
in  the  Eastern  Church  become  intermingled  with 
the  primitive  worship  of  the  dead  among  the  Slavs 
('worship  of  heroes  and  its  transference  to  the 
Christian  martyrs ').  The  details  of  the  process 
are  given  in  the  following  chapters :  (4)  the  early 
Christian  Agapse  and  the  meals  connected  there- 
with ;  (5)  the  survival  in  the  Slav  languages  of  Gr. 
Tpdirefa  and  other  foreign  words  connected  with 
the  cult  of  the  dead  (cf.  art.  Aryan  Religion, 
vol.  ii.  p.  27%  regarding  Russ.  kanunii  =  Gr. 
Kavdiv) ;  (6)  Romano  -  Greek  influence  upon  the 
spring  festivals  for  the  dead  among  the  Slavs 
(0.  Slav,  rusalija,  Serv.  [d)ruziialo,  Russ.  radu- 
nica  ;  cf .  vol.  ii.  p.  25b  and  25*)  ;  Murko's  derivation 
of  Russ.  radunica,  from  Gr.  poSavla'  6  ran  /56dW 
Xei/Aibv  of  Suidas,  is  original  and  convincing,  so 
that  its  meaning  is  the  same  as  that  of  Rosalia, 
thespring  festival  forthe  dead);  (7)  Lat.  silicernium, 
silicern{i)us  (cf.  vol.  ii.  p.  28a ;  Murko  thinks  that 
this  word  denotes  the  feast  held  upon  the  silices, 
i.e.  the  rubble  of  the  grave). 

Litbrature. — This  is  sufficiently  indicated  in  the  art.  and  in 
Abyah  Religion.  O.  SCHRADER, 

DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  DEAD 
(Tibetan). — In  Tibet,  death  is  regarded  as  the 
work  of  the  death-demon,  who  has  accordingly  to 
be  exorcized  from  the  house  and  locality.  The 
ceremonies  at  death  and  the  methods  of  disposal  of 
the  body  are  almost  entirely  of  a  pre-Buddhistie 
or  Bon  character,  although  now  conducted  for  the 
most  part  by  orthodox  Buddhist  priests. 

The  Tibetans  believe  that  the  soul  lives  after 
the  death  of  the  body,  but  the  future  life  desired 
by  the  people  is  not  the  Buddhistic  one  of  a  higher 
earthly  re-birth  or  the  arhat-ship  of  Nirvana  or 
Buddhahood.  They  desire  the  new  life  to  be  in  an 
everlasting  paradise,  which  is  now  identified  with 
the  Western  Paradise  of  Buddha  Amitabha  of  the 
later  Indian  Buddhists.  The  object  of  the  death- 
ritual,  therefore,  is,  firstly,  to  secure  the  due 
passage  of  the  soul  of  the  deceased  to  this  paradise, 
and,  secondly,  to  safeguard  the  earthly  survivors 
against  harm  from  the  death-demon,  as  well  as 
from  the  spirit  of  the  deceased  in  the  event  of  its 
failing  to  reach  paradise  and  so  becoming  a  malig- 
nant ghost. 

Formerly,  so  late  as  the  8th  cent.  A.D.,  human 
sacrifices  were  made  on  the  death  of  kings  and 
nobles.  Five  or  six  chosen  friends  from  amongst 
their  officers  were  styled  '  comrades,'  and  killed 
themselves  on  the  death  of  their  master,  so  as  to 
accompany  him  to  paradise,  and  their  bodies  were 
buried  alongside  of  his.  The  crests  of  the  hills 
were  crowned  by  such  sepulchral  mounds,  as  in 
China  and  amongst  the  Turkic  tribes.  B«6ide  the 
body  were  buried  the  clothes  and  valuables  of  the 
deceased,  his  bow,  sword,  and  other  weapons,  and 
his  favourite  horse;  and  a  tumulus  of  earth  was 
thrown  up  over  all.  Animal-sacrifice  seems  also 
to  have  been  practised,  as  is  evidenced  by  the 
dough  effigies  of  animals  which  are  offered  as  part 
of  the  sacrificial  rite  by  the  hands  of  Buddhist 
monks,  who  now  perform  the  popular  death-rites, 
and  by  their  religion  are  prohibited  from  taking  life 
(L.  A.  Waddell,  Buddhism  of  Tibet,  p.  518  f.). 

1.  Extraction  of  the  soul. — On  the  physical  death 
of  a  person,  Tibetans  believe  that  the  spirit  does 
not  depart  forthwith,  but  continues  to  linger  within 
the  corpse  for  a  varying  period,  which  may  extend 
to  four  days,  after  the  cessation  of  the  heart  and 


510 


DEATH  AND  DISPOSAL  OP  THE  DEAD  (Tibetan) 


breath.  In  order  to  secure  the  release  of  the  spirit 
in  that  direction  in  which  it  has  the  greatest  chance 
of  reaching  paradise,  the  services  of  an  expert  priest 
are  necessary. 

After  a  death  occurs,  no  layman  is  allowed  to 
touch  the  body.  A  white  cloth  is  thrown  over 
the  face  of  the  corpse,  and  a  priest  is  sent  for  to 
extract  the  soul  in  the  orthodox  manner.  This 
priest  is  one  of  the  higher  monks,  and  bears  the 
title  of  'The  Mover  or  Shifter'  (p'o-bo).  On  his 
arrival  in  the  death-chamber,  all  relatives  and  others 
are  excluded,  and  the  priest,  closing  the  doors  and 
windows,  sits  near  the  head  of  the  corpse  and  chants 
the  directions  for  the  soul  to  find  its  way  to  the 
Western  Paradise.  After  exhorting  the  soul  to 
quit  the  body  and  give  up  its  attachment  to  earthly 
property,  the  priest  seizes  with  his  forefinger  and 
thumb  a  few  hairs  on  the  crown  of  the  corpse,  and, 
jerking  these  forcibly,  is  supposed  thereby  to  make 
way  for  the  soul  of  the  deceased  through  the  pores 
of  the  roots  of  these  hairs,  as  though  actual  perfora- 
tion of  the  skull  had  been  effected.  If,  in  the 
process,  blood  oozes  from  the  nostrils,  it  is  an 
auspicious  sign.  The  soul  is  then  directed  to  avoid 
the  dangers  which  beset  the  road  to  paradise,  and 
is  bidden  God-speed.  This  ceremony  lasts  about  an 
hour.  When,  through  accident  or  otherwise,  the 
body  is  not  forthcoming  and  the  fourth  day  is 
expiring,  this  rite  is  performed  in  absentia  by  the 
priest  conjuring  it  up  in  spirit  whilst  seated  in 
deep  meditation. 

2.  Handling  the  corpse. — All  persons  are  tabued 
from  touching  a  corpse  (ro)  except  those  who  belong 
to  the  father's  family  or  those  indicated  by  the 
astrologer-priest,  who  casts  a  horoscope  for  the 
purpose.  This  document  also  prescribes  the  most 
auspicious  date  for  the  funeral  and  the  mode  and 
place  of  disposal  of  the  body,  as  well  as  the  worship 
to  be  performed  for  the  soul  of  the  deceased  and 
for  the  welfare  of  the  surviving  relatives. 

The  persons  who  may  ordinarily  handle  a  corpse 
must  be  children  by  the  same  father  as  deceased 
(p'as-spun),  though  in  Lhasa  and  large  towns  with 
many  strangers  the  professional  scavengers  may  do 
this  work.  In  rural  communities,  when  a  man  has  no 
paternal  relatives  of  his  own,  he  procures  admission 
into  the  family  of  a  friend  for  such  funeral  purposes 
as  official  mourner  by  giving  a  dinner  to  announce 
the  fact.  The  persons  so  authorized  then  approach 
the  body  with  ropes,  and,  doubling  it  up  into  a 
crouching  attitude,  tie  it  in  this  posture,  with  the 
face  between  the  knees  and  the  hands  under  the 
legs.  If  rigor  mortis  be  present,  bones  may  be 
broken  during  the  process.  The  attitude  of  the 
body  resembles  that  found  in  some  of  the  early 
sepultures,  and  is  probably  a  survival  of  the 
pre-historic  period.  It  ensures  portability  of  the 
corpse. 

When  tied  up  in  the  proper  attitude,  the  body  is 
covered  with  some  of  the  clothes  of  the  deceased,  put 
inside  a  sack  made  of  hide,  tent-cloth,  or  blanket, 
and  removed  from  the  room  to  the  chapel  of  the 
house  (where  there  is  one)  as  a  mortuary,  and 
placed  in  a  corner  there.  A  sheet  or  curtain  is 
stretched  in  front  of  the  sack  as  a  screen,  and  all 
laymen  retire.  Where  the  body  has  to  be  kept  a 
long  time  for  climatic  or  other  reasons,  it  may  be 
slung  up  to  the  rafters. 

3.  Pre-funeral  rites. — Priests  remain  in  relays 
day  and  night  chanting  services  near  the  corpse 
until  it  is  removed.  The  head  priest  sits  near  the 
screen,  with  his  back  to  the  corpse  ;  the  other 
priests  face  him,  and  all  read  extracts  from  the 
Buddhist  scriptures,  often  from  different  books  at 
the  same  time  ;  and  they  keep  alight  lamps  (from 
5  to  108,  according  to  the  means  of  the  deceased). 
The  relatives  sit  in  another  room,  and  offer  food 
and  drink  to  the  deceased.     His  bowl  is  kept  filled 


with  tea  or  beer,  and  he  is  offered  a  share  of  what- 
ever food  is  going ;  and  such  drink  and  food  as  are 
offered  are  afterwards  thrown  away,  as  it  is  believed 
that  their  essence  has  been  abstracted  by  the  soul  of 
the  departed.  Feeding  the  manes  is  also  found  in 
the  Indian  Buddhist  practice  of  avalambana,  based 
upon  the  Brahmanical  rite  of  iraddha. 

Before  the  funeral  the  guests,  after  libations, 
partake  in  solemn  silence  of  cake  and  wine  within 
the  house  in  which  the  corpse  is  lying  ;  but,  after 
the  latter  is  removed,  no  one  will  eat  or  drink  in 
that  house  for  a  month. 

4.  Funeral  procession. — This  occurs  on  the 
auspicious  day  and  hour  fixed  for  it  by  the  astrolo- 
ger. The  relatives  and  guests  bow  to  the  corpse, 
which  is  then  lifted  by  the  official  mourners,  put 
on  the  chief  mourner's  back,  and  carried  to  the 
door,  where  it  is  placed  in  a  square  box  or  coffin 
(ro-rg'am)  provided  by  the  monastery  which  is 
conducting  the  funeral,  and  the  box  is  carried 
thence  by  the  official  mourners  to  the  cemetery 
or  cremation  ground.  If  the  chief  mourner  is  a 
woman,  she  does  not  accompany  the  funeral,  but, 
after  walking  thrice  round  the  coffin  and  prostrat- 
ing herself  thrice,  is  conducted  back  to  the  house. 

In  front  of  the  procession  go  the  priests,  chanting 
Sanskrit  spells  or  mantras  extracted  from  the  later 
Indian  Buddhist  scriptures,  and  blowing  horns,  or 
beating  drums,  or  ringing  handbells ;  then  follow 
the  relatives  and  friends,  and  last  of  all  comes  the 
coffin.  This  is  led  by  the  chief  priest  by  means  of 
a  long  scarf,  one  end  of  which  is  attached  to  the 
coffin ;  the  other  end  he  holds  in  his  left  hand, 
whilst  with  his  right  he  beats  a  skull  drum  as  he 
walks.  This  scarf  probably  represents  the  '  soul's 
banner '  (hurin-fan),  which  is  carried  before  the 
coffin  by  the  Chinese. 

The  spot  or  cemetery  to  which  the  body  is  carried 
is  usually  a  solitary  rock  on  a  wild  hilltop,  and 
is  believed  to  be  haunted  by  evil  spirits.  In  Lhasa 
the  ordinary  cemetery  (dur-K  rod)  is  within  the 
city.  The  corpse  must  not  be  set  down  anywhere 
en  route,  otherwise  the  final  ceremony  would  have 
to  be  performed  at  that  place. 

5.  Disposal  of  the  body. — The  particular  mode 
in  which  the  body  is  to  be  disposed  of  is  prescribed 
by  the  astrologer-lama.  Of  the  various  modes, 
one  only,  namely  cremation,  presents  Buddhistic 
features.  The  methods  may  be  said  to  be  five  in 
number : 

1.  Consumption  of  flesh  by  animals  and  burial  of 
bones. — This,  the  so-called  'terrestrial  method,'  is 
the  commonest  and  obviously  the  most  ancient. 
It  was  a  custom  of  the  ancient  Scythians  known 
to  Herodotus  ;  and  its  practice  by  the  Parsis  at  the 
present  day  may  also  be  derived  from  such  a 
source  or  from  the  Turkic  tribes.  There  seems  no 
reason  to  ascribe  it,  as  has  been  conjectured,  to  the 
influence  of  those  Jataka  tales  which  relate  that 
Sakyamuni  in  former  births  offered  his  body  to 
feed  famished  tigers  and  other  animals.  Such  a 
practice  of  disposal  of  the  dead  is  not  recorded  in 
Indian  Buddhism,  and  its  present-day  practice  in 
Siam  and  Korea,  as  well  as  in  Tibet,  is  obviously 
a  survival  of  the  ancient  Scythic  and  Mongolian 
custom. 

At  the  cemetery  the  body  is  placed  face  down- 
wards on  the  rocli  or  slab  of  stone,  divested  of  its 
clothes,  and  tied  to  a  stake.  The  priest,  chanting 
mantras,  scores  it  with  a  large  knife,  and  the 
corpse-cutters  slice  off  the  flesh  and  throw  it  to  the 
vultures  and  other  animals  of  prey  which  frequent 
these  cemeteries.  In  Lhasa  dogs  and  even  pigs 
assist  in  devouring  the  corpses.  As,  however, 
vultures  are  esteemed  more  auspicious,  the  attend- 
ants for  a  small  sum  engage  to  keep  off  the  other 
less  desirable  beasts  of  prey.  The  rapidity  with 
which  the  body  is  devoured  is  considered  of  good 


DEBAUCHERY 


511 


omen,  and  the  skull  of  such  a  corpse  is  prized  as  an 
auspicious  libation-bowl. 

The  bones  of  the  stripped  and  dismembered  body 
are  then  buried,  and,  if  the  person  be  wealthy,  a 
mound  or  tower  is  erected  over  them. 

2.  Total  consumption  of  flesh  and  bones  by 
animals. — This,  the  so-called  'celestial  method,'  is 
much  less  common,  though  not  infrequent  with  the 
richer  classes.  The  bones,  stripped  of  their  flesh 
as  above,  are  not  buried,  but  pounded  and  mixed 
with  meal,  and  given  to  dogs  and  vultures  to 
consume. 

3.  Throwing  into  rivers  or  at  waste  places. — This, 
the  most  ignoble  method,  is  the  fate  of  the  poorest, 
as  burying  entails  considerable  expense.  The  body 
is  dragged  by  a  rope  like  a  dead  beast.  In  this 
way  are  also  disposed  the  bodies  of  criminals,  those 
killed  by  accident,  lepers,  and  sometimes  barren 
women.  The  skulls  of  enemies  slain  in  battle  are 
deemed  auspicious  for  drinking-goblets. 

4.  Cremation. — This  mode  of  disposal  of  a  quasi- 
Buddhistic  kind  is  reserved  in  Tibet  for  the  bodies 
of  the  higher  lamas,  though,  in  those  districts 
where  wood  fuel  is  more  available,  it  is  also  used 
for  the  laity. 

The  body  is  placed  on  the  pyre,  seated  erect  in 
a  devotional  attitude,  cross-legged  like  Buddha's 
image.  The  soles  of  the  feet  are  turned  upwards, 
the  right  hand  with  palm  upwards  resting  on  the 
flexed  thigh,  and  the  left  hand  is  raised  in  front  of 
the  shoulder  in  the  '  blessing '  attitude.  In  the 
case  of  the  laity,  the  face  seems  usually  to  be 
placed  downwards.  When  the  wood  is  lighted, 
melted  butter  is  poured  over  the  body,  and,  when 
the  first  limb  or  bone  drops  from  the  body  after  a 
few  hours,  the  funeral  ends,  though  some  of  the 
relatives  remain  till  the  cremation  is  over.  The 
body  is  seldom  completely  reduced  to  ashes.  The 
ashes  and  unconsumed  relics  are  removed  by  the 
priests  to  the  house  of  the  deceased,  and  there 
pounded  and  mixed  with  clay  to  form  in  a  mould 
miniature  votive  chaitya  medallions  called  ts'a-ts'a, 
the  dharma  iarira  relics  of  Indian  Buddhists. 
These  are  placed  in  the  niches  of  the  funereal 
towers  known  as  chortens,  or,  if  the  deceased  be 
rich,  a  special  tower  may  be  erected  over  them  (see 
art.  Chorten). 

5.  Preserving  the  entire  body  by  embalming. — 
This  mode  seems  to  be  restricted  to  the  sovereign 
Grand  Lamas  of  Lhasa  and  Tashilhunpo.  The 
body  is  embalmed  by  salting,  and,  clad  in  the  robes 
of  the  deceased  and  surrounded  by  his  personal 
implements  of  worship,  is  placed,  in  the  attitude 
of  a  seated  Buddha,  within  a  gilded  copper  sarco- 
phagus in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  palace  ;  it  is 
then  worshipped  as  a  divinity.  Before  it,  on  an 
altar,  food  and  water  are  offered,  and  lights  are  kept 
burning.  Eventually  it  is  enclosed  in  a  great 
gilded  chorten,  surmounted  by  a  gilt  dome,  and 
becomes  one  of  the  recognized  objects  of  worship  to 
pilgrims. 

With  the  disposal  of  the  body,  the  relatives  and 
guests  disperse,  after  a  feast  given  in  the  open  air. 

6.  Post-funeral  obsequies. — The  funeral  does  not 
end  the  ceremonies.  Hie  soul  of  the  deceased  is 
not  effectively  disposed  of  until  forty-nine  days 
after  the  death,  and  the  death-demon  is  also  to  be 
expelled  from  the  locality.  This  latter  exorcism  is 
an  indigenous  Bon  rite,  and  must  be  performed 
within  two  days  after  the  funeral.  It  is  termed 
the  '  Turning  away  of  the  face  of  the  Devouring 
Devil  (Za-'dre).'  The  demon  is  represented  as  of 
human  form,  riding  upon  a  tiger ;  and,  in  laying 
the  evil  spirits,  figures  of  animals  moulded  in 
dough  are  used  in  the  sacrifice.  For  the  final  dis- 
posal of  the  soul  of  the  deceased,  further  priestly 
services  are  required  weekly  until  forty-nine  days 
after  death.     During  this  period  [i.e.  7x7  days) 


the  soul  is  believed  to  remain  in  a  purgatory  or 
intermediate  stage  (bar-do)  between  death  and 
regeneration,  and  is  assisted  onwards  by  the  prayers 
of  the  priests.  For  this  a  lay  effigy  of  the  deceased 
is  made  in  the  house,  on  the  day  on  which  the 
corpse  was  removed,  by  dressing  up  a  bench  or 
box  with  the  clothes  of  the  deceased,  and  for  a  face 
a  paper  mask  is  inserted  bearing  a  print  of  a  dead 
Tibetan.  On  the  forty-ninth  day  this  service  is 
completed,  the  paper  mask  burned,  and  the  clothes 
given  away.  The  priests  receive  as  presents  some 
valuable  articles  from  the  property  of  the  deceased, 
and  a  feast  concludes  the  ceremony. 

Mourning  is  practised  chiefly  for  young  people  ; 
the  old  are  less  lamented.  The  full  term  of  mourn- 
ing is  about  a  year,  but  three  or  four  months  is 
more  usual.  During  this  time  no  coloured  clothes 
are  worn,  nor  is  the  face  washed  or  the  hair  combed ; 
men  may  shave  their  heads,  and  women  leave  off 
their  jewellery  and  rosaries.  For  Grand  Lamas 
the  general  mourning  of  the  people  lasts  from  a 
week  to  a  month. 

All  the  places  where  bodies  are  buried  or  other- 
wise disposed  of  are  esteemed  sacred. 

Literature.— S.  W.  Bushell,  JRAS,  1880,  pp.  443,  621,  527 ; 
C.  F.  Kdppen,  Lamaische  Hierarchic,  Berlin,  1859,  p.  322  ;  H. 
Ramsay,  Western  Tibet,  Lahore,  1890,  p.  49  f. ;  W.  W.  Rock- 
hill,  Ethnology  of  Tibet,  Washington,  1896,  pp.  727,  etc.,  JRAS, 
1891,  pp.  233,  etc.,  Land  of  the  Lamas,  London,  1891,  pp.  287, 
etc. ;  L.  A.  Waddell,  Buddhism  of  Tibet,  do.  1895,  pp.  488,  etc., 
Lhasa  and,  its  Mysteries,  do.  1905,  pp.  233,  392  f.,  422. 

L.  A.  Waddell. 
DEATH  OF  THE  GODS.— See  Deicide. 

DEBAUCHERY  (French  debaucher  [de,  '  from,' 
and  old  Fr.  bauche,  '  a  course,'  '  a  row '],  '  to  lead 
from  the  straight  course ' ;  hence  '  seduction  from 
duty,'  'excessive  intemperance,'  'habitual  lewd- 
ness '). — Although  individuals  who  habitually  in- 
dulge in  reckless  dissipation  are  justly  regarded  as 
defective  in  ordinary  self-control,  and  although  it 
might  be  shown  on  incontestable  evidence  that  no 
inconsiderable  proportion  of  such  persons  are  insane 
or  mentally  defective,  it  would  still  be  preferable 
to  approach  this  subject  from  the  standpoint  of 
normal  psychology  in  order  to  trace  the  nature  of 
the  impulse  which  impels  men  in  the  direction  of 
excessive  intemperance  and  lewdness.  To  do  this 
successfully  we  must  take  into  consideration  the 
habits  and  proclivities  of  primitive  men.  Un- 
civilized peoples  manifest  an  intense  love  of  excite- 
ment, particularly  in  connexion  with  their  social 
and  religious  gatherings.  All  the  writings  of 
travellers  referring  to  the  domestic  and  social  life 
of  savages  are  unanimous  as  to  the  fact  that  every 
event  out  of  the  daily  routine  which  causes 
people  to  assemble  together  is  likely  to  become  an 
occasion  for  intoxication.  Birth  alone  is  perhaps 
less  associated  with  this  form  of  enjoyment ; 
marriages  and  deaths  are  certainly  a  very  common 
excuse  for  it,  and  it  is  remarkable  that  we  still 
retain  survivals  of  these  customs  even  in  Western 
Europe.  A  culmination  in  intense  excitement 
without  the  aid  of  intoxicants  is  frequent  in  their 
social  gatherings.  Featherman  {Social  Hist,  of  Races 
of  Mankind,  1881-91,  iii.  341)  gives  many  examples, 
from  which  the  following  may  be  selected  : 

'  They  arranged  themselves  in  groups,  and  at  a  given  signal 
each  group  began  to  sing  at  first  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  which 
became  louder  and  terminated  in  dreadful  yells  and  hideous 
howls.  The  jumping  was  so  violent  and  their  efforts  were  so 
furious  that  some  of  them  fell  senseless  to  the  ground.  Three 
or  four  players  or  sorcerers  stood  in  the  centre,  shook  their 
tamarak,  and  blew  tobacco  smoke  from  a  cane  pipe  upon  the 
dancers.' 

Mrs.  French-Sheldon  {JA1  xxi.  [1891]  367), 
speaking  of  the  natives  of  East  Africa,  says  : 

'  At  some  of  their  festivals  this  dancing  is  carried  to  such  an 
extent  that  I  have  seen  a  .young  fellow's  muscles  quiver  from 
head  to  foot,  and  his  jaws  tremble  without  any  apparent  ability 
on  his  part  to  control  them,  until,  foaming  at  the  mouth  and 
with  his  eyes  rolling,  he  falls  in  a  paroxysm  upon  the  ground, 


512 


DEBAUCHERY 


to  be  carried  off  by  his  companions.  This  method  of  seeking 
artificial  physical  excitement  bears  a  singular  resemblance  to 
the  dances  of  other  nations  outside  of  Africa.' 

Not  only  are  the  reunions  of  savage  peoples 
characterized  by  intoxication  and  induced  physical 
and  mental  excitement,  but  their  religious  cere- 
monies owe  attraction  largely  to  the  induced 
mental  fervour  of  the  ministrants  and  audience. 
Partridge  (AJPs,  Apr.  1900,  p.  363)  goes  so  far  as 
to  hold  that  intoxication  is  one  of  the  most  import- 
ant parts  of  the  religious  and  social  life  of  primi- 
tive man.     He  says  : 

'  The  use  of  alcoholic  beverages  arose  in  connexion  with  the 
religious  social  life  in  the  effort  to  heighten  the  religious  self- 
consciousness.  Its  use  for  these  purposes  among  primitive 
people  is  widespread  and  almost  universal.' 

Among  some  tribes  in  the  Philippine  Islands  the 
shaman  (usually  a  woman)  works  herself  up  into 
frenzies  of  nervous  excitement  by  means  of  con- 
tortions and  copious  draughts  of  fermented  liquor. 
Feasting  and  revelling  follow,  until  ofttimes  at  her 
ceremonies  all  present  become  intoxicated,  and  fall 
into  an  unconscious  state  (cf.  Tylor,  Prim.  Cult.s  ii. 
134  ff. ).  Similar  practices  are  universally  prevalent 
at  the  present  day  among  the  Persian  dervishes, 
who  produce  in  themselves  states  of  exaltation  and 
hallucination  by  means  of  opium  and  hashish.  A 
similar  condition  is  induced  by  the  Peruvian  priests 
by  means  of  a  drug  known  as  'tonca'  (ib.  416 fit'.). 
The  reunions  of  savage  and  barbarous  peoples  are 
characterized  not  only  by  intoxication,  but  also, 
frequently,  by  sexual  orgies  of  a  revolting  charac- 
ter. Bancroft  [Native  Races,  i.  551)  says  (quoting 
Kendall) : 

1  Once  a  year  the  Keres  have  a  great  feast,  prepared  for  three 
successive  days,  which  time  is  spent  in  eating,  drinking,  and 
dancing.  ...  To  this  cave,  after  dark,  repair  grown  persons  of 
every  age  and  sex,  who  pass  the  night  in  indulgences  of  the 
most  gross  and  sensual  description.' 

Writing  of  the  Mosquitos,  the  same  author 
(p.  735)  states : 

'  Occasionally  surrounding  villagers  are  invited,  and  a  drink- 
ing-bout is  held,  first  in  one  house  and  then  in  another,  until  the 
climax  is  reached  in  a  debauch  by  both  sexes  of  the  most  revolt- 
ing character.' 

The  ravenous  appetite  of  certain  savages  justifies 
the  accusation  of  gluttony  which  has  been  ascribed 
to  them  by  various  authors.  The  enormous 
development  of  the  jaw  muscles,  as  well  as  the 
protuberance  of  the  alimentary  system,  is  a  suffi- 
cient indication  of  their  propensity  for  swallowing 
enormous  quantities  of  food  when  opportunity 
offers.  A  Yakut  child,  according  to  Cochrane, 
devoured  at  a  sitting  three  candles,  several  pounds 
of  sour  frozen  butter,  and  a  large  piece  of  yellow 
soap,  while  an  adult  of  the  same  tribe  devoured 
forty  pounds  of  meat  in  a  day.  Wrangle  says 
each  of  the  Yakuts  ate  in  a  day  six  times  as  many 
fish  as  he  could.  The  Comanches,  according  to 
Schoolcraft,  eat  voraciously  after  long  abstinence, 
and  without  any  apparent  inconvenience  (quoted 
from  Spencer's  Sociology,  i.  45).  That  debauches 
are  restricted  solely  through  the  want  of  oppor- 
tunities for  prolonging  and  repeating  them  is  only 
too  apparent  from  the  histories  of  those  savage  or 
barbarous  tribes  which  have  been  brought  into  close 
and  constant  contact  with  the  more  unscrupulous 
representatives  of  civilization.  So  long  as  alcohol 
and  pleasurable  excitement  were  obtainable,  no 
price  was  grudged  for  them  until,  as  a  consequence 
of  reckless  self-abandonment,  the  wretched  hedon- 
ists stood  stripped  of  their  possessions,  and  in- 
capable of  resuming  their  previous  methods  of  life. 
The  unfitness  of  savages,  in  the  majority  of  in- 
stances, for  regular  or  sustained  employment  of 
any  kind  is  one  of  their  most  marked  character- 
istics. It  might  be  objected  that  such  a  general- 
ization is  too  sweeping,  and,  moreover,  that  war 
and  the  chase  are  the  only  careers  open  to  primitive 
man.  It  may  be  admitted  that  many  members  of 
the  so-called  inferior  races  have  shown  exceptional 


aptitude  for  commerce,  agriculture,  and  industry 
of  various  kinds ;  but  the  history  of  the  emanci- 
pated Negroes  and  of  the  native  Indians  in  the 
Reserve  Territories  of  the  United  States  is  con- 
clusive proof  of  the  inadaptability  of  these  races,  as  a 
whole,  for  the  r61e  of  civilization  in  which  sustained 
and  regular  labour  is  the  active  and  most  important 
element.  In  these  races  labour  is  fitful  and  dis- 
tasteful, and  alternates  with  long  spells  of  inactivity 
and  unproductiveness. 

From  the  foregoing  statements  it  is  evident  that 
among  the  members  of  uncivilized  communities 
certain  anti-social  defects  which  are  hostile  to  the 
progress  of  civilization  are  extremely  prevalent. 
These  defects  may  be  summed  up  as  :  (1)  a  craving 
for  intense  mental  states,  which  is  most  easily 
gratified  by  induced  excitement,  by  alcohol  or 
other  drugs,  by  sexual  excitement,  or  by  the 
appetite  for  food ;  (2)  an  inability  or,  at  any  rate, 
a  strong  disinclination  for  sustained  mental  or 
physical  exertion.  The  representative  anti-social 
elements  in  a  modern  civilized  community  may  be 
regarded  as  the  legitimate  survivals  of  uncivilized 
ancestors.  They  all  manifest  the  same  strong 
craving  for  intenser  mental  states,  which  can  be 
fully  gratified  only  by  the  grosser  forms  of  dissipa- 
tion, while  they  also  exhibit  the  natural,  disincli- 
nation for  sustained  and  productive  labour.  The 
prostitute,  the  gambler,  the  drunkard,  the  criminal, 
and  the  loafer  have  this  in  common,  that  they 
desire  the  grosser  forms  of  excitement,  that  they 
are  prodigal  of  their  means,  and  unproductive  in 
their  methods  of  supplying  their  wants. 

The  view  which  regards  the  pronounced  anti- 
social members  of  a  community  as  the  survivals 
of  a  period  when  the  race  as  a  whole  was  com- 
paratively primitive  in  its  social  development  is 
the  only  scientific  one,  and  displaces  to  a  large 
extent  the  older  views  of  deliberate  sinning  and 
moral  responsibility  ;  for  a  little  consideration  will 
enable  us  to  see  that  a  person  who  is  constitution- 
ally a-moral  cannot  be  also  at  the  same  time  im- 
moral.  Such  a  statement  must  not  be  taken  to 
imply  a  disbelief  in  individual  moral  responsibility, 
for  it  must  be  recognized  that  persistent  immoral 
conduct  may  depend  upon  opportunity  and  the 
absence,  for  any  reason,  of  public  opinion.  It 
follows  that  a  person  who  is  able  to  control  his 
conduct  under  the  influence  of  any  ordinary  de- 
terrent must  be,  more  or  less,  responsible  for  his 
conduct  in  the  absence  of  these  deterrents.  In  the 
development  of  society,  as  of  the  individual,  there 
are  two  factors — environment  and  evolution.  The 
environment  is  never  constant  but  is  always 
changing,  while  the  development  of  a  society 
depends  upon  the  development  of  its  units,  subject 
to  the  influence  of  the  environment.  Physically 
as  well  as  mentally,  the  individual  must  be  in 
harmony  with  his  surroundings  or  he  cannot  exist. 
In  every  established  race  of  living  beings  the 
majority  of  the  individuals  present  an  average 
mean  of  certain  qualities  the  possession  of  which 
entitles  them  to  be  regarded  as  normal  repre- 
sentatives of  their  race ;  but  there  is  in  every 
such  race  a  large  minority  of  individuals  who  vary 
to  a  greater  or  less  extent  from  this  mean  of  any 
given  quality.  Some  of  them  possess  the  quality 
in  excess  of  the  mean,  others  in  defect.  The 
majority  of  the  members  of  a  civilized  community 
subordinate  their  desires  for  the  grosser  pleasures 
to  the  duty  of  sustained  effort  and  the  dictates  of 
morality.  Through  a  long  process  of  natural  selec- 
tion this  standard  has  been  attained  ;  but,  just  as  a 
race  of  men  present  marked  divergencies  in  stature 
or  mental  ability,  so  do  they  manifest  throughout 
their  composing  units  the  greatest  differences  in 
respect  to  social  qualities,  varying  from  the  highest 
manifestations  of  altruism-  to  an  absence  of  the 


DECALOGUE 


513 


Bense  of  responsibility  and  a  reckless  craving 
for  gross  self-indulgence.  'A  community,'  says 
Giddings  {Princ.  of  Sociol.,  1898,  p.  414),  'that  de- 
lights in  many  harmonious  pleasures  has,  on  the 
whole,  more  chances  in  life  than  one  which  is 
satisfied  with  a  few  intense  pleasures.'  It  is 
scarcely  necessary  to  insist  upon  the  instability 
of  a  community  the  majority  of  whose  members 
are  constitutionally  indolent  or  immoral.  We  see, 
therefore,  that  the  debauchee  and  the  loafer  are 
variations  from  the  mean  type  of  their  society ; 
we  also  see  the  sense  in  which  they  may  be  de- 
scribed as  representatives  or  survivals  of  more 
primitive  social  states.  In  relation  to  their  social 
environment  they  are  anti-social  and  irretrievably 
doomed  to  elimination.  The  rapidity  of  this  pro- 
cess of  elimination  is  apt  to  be  obscured  by  the 
fact  that  each  new  generation  produces  its  fresh 
quota  of  individuals  who  are  socially  abnormal ; 
but  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  rapidly 
changing  environment  advances  the  moral  standard 
of  each  generation,  and  that  therefore  a  relatively 
higher  and  more  stringent  natural  selection  is 
gradually  being  brought  to  act  upon  those  un- 
fortunate units  whose  mental  or  physical  organiza- 
tion is  out  of  harmony  with  its  requirements. 
With  the  advance  in  the  standard  of  morals  of  a 
community  there  emerges  gradually  an  expression 
of  the  ethical  attitude  of  the  public  towards  disease 
and  infirmity,  of  which  sufficient  proof  is  to  be 
seen  in  the  improved  condition  of  the  insane,  in  the 
founding  of  '  homes '  for  epileptics  and  inebriates, 
and  in  the  increased  interest  in  the  study  of 
criminology.  All  these  movements  exhibit  the 
tendency  of  modern  societies  to  regard  the  actions 
of  its  anti-social  members  as  irresponsible.  It 
therefore  seems  highly  probable  that  at  no  distant 
date  civilization  will  enable  us  to  dispense  with 
retaliative  punishment  as  a  deterrent  in  certain 
moral  delinquencies,  and  that  the  State  will  take 
upon  itself  the  regulation  of  the  lives  of  those  who  are 
incapable  of  living  up  to  the  standard  of  decency  and 
order  required  by  the  existing  social  environment. 

Literature. — Featherman,  Social  History  of  the  Races  of 
Mankind,  London,  1881-91 ;  JAI  xxi.  [1891]  367  ;  AJPs,  April 
1900,  p.  363;  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture^,  London,  1891  ;  Ban- 
croft, Native  Races  of  the  Pacific  States,  London,  1875-6 ; 
Schoolcraft,  Hist.,  etc.  of  Indians  of  U.S.,  Philad.  1853; 
Giddings,  Principles  of  Sociology,  New  York,  1898.  Cf.  also  the 
art.  on  Ethics  and  Morality.         JoHN  MaCPHERSON. 

DECALOGUE. — Introductory. — There  is  prob- 
ably no  human  document  which  has  exercised  a 
greater  influence  upon  religious  and  moral  life 
than  the  Decalogue.  On  account  of  its  brevity, 
its  comprehensiveness,  its  forcefulness,  and  its 
limitations,  it  has  stood  out  from  other  teaching, 
and  has  been  embedded  in  Christian  liturgies  and 
catechisms,  so  that  it  is  difficult  for  any  one 
brought  up  with  any  degree  of  Christian  culture 
to  escape  knowledge  of  its  contents.  The  exalted 
idea  of  its  superior  value  goes  back  certainly  to 
the  Book  of  Deuteronomy  ;  for  we  are  told  re- 
peatedly there  that  the  Ten  Words  were  written 
upon  two  tables  of  stone  by  God  Himself,  and  even 
with  His  finger1  (41S  5™  910  101"4 ;  cf.  Ex  3118  3216 
341-  '2B).  However  freely  the  statements  may  be 
interpreted,  however  figuratively  the  author  may 
have  written,  it  was  certainly  his  intention  to  show 
that  he  placed  this  code  above  all  other  legal  codes, 
these  words  above  all  other  revealed  words.  In 
other  cases  it  sufficed  to  say  that  Jahweh  spoke  to 
Moses,  and  Moses'  memory  was  depended  upon 
to  convey  accurately  to  the  people  all  the  vast 
amount  of  revelations  given  in  the  course  of  many 
days.  But  the  Ten  A\  ords  were  so  precious  that 
no  risk  of  forgetfulness  could  be  run,  and  they 
were  at  once  engraven  on  the  solid  stone.     And 

1  Compare  our  Lord's  casting  out  devils  by  the  '  finger  [i.e. 
the  power]  of  God  '  (Lk  1120). 

vol.  iv. — 33 


there  is  more  to  show  their  high  station.  When 
Moses  brought  the  stones  down  from  the  mountain, 
and  saw  Israel's  apostasy,  he  dashed  the  stones  to 
the  ground  and  broke  them.  The  precious  record 
could  not  be  lost,  however ;  nor  could  Moses,  who 
may  be  presumed  to  have  known  them  by  heart, 
be  trusted  to  reproduce  them.  He  was  directed  to 
prepare  two  new  tablets  of  stone,  and  take  them 
up  to  the  mountain  again,  that  the  original  text 
might  be  restored  by  the  same  finger  which  en- 
graved the  first  copy.  Finally,  that  there  might 
be  no  further  chance  of  breakage,  Moses  by  com- 
mand made  an  ark  of  acacia  wood  for  their  safe 
keeping  (Dt  9.  10).  It  is  now  advisable  to  see 
what  this  document  is,  and  to  test  the  statements 
accounting  for  its  origin. 

i.  The  two  forms  of  the  Decalogue. — The 
Decalogue  has  come  down  to  us  in  two  versions 
which  differ  to  a  considerable  extent,  one  (in  com- 
mon use)  being  in  Ex  202"17,  the  other  (unfortun- 
ately almost  ignored)  in  Dt  56"'1.1  Some  of  the 
variations  in  the  Decalogue  may  be  due  to  acci- 
dents in  the  transmission  of  the  text,  but  the  most 
of  them  are  certainly  deliberate.  Moreover,  the 
process  of  development  did  not  stop  with  our 
present  Heb.  text,  as  the  LXX  shows  still  further 
modifications,  few  if  any  of  which  can  be  fairly 
attributed  to  the  translators. 

In  the  case  of  the  Fourth  Commandment,  the 
important  differences  are  indicated  in  the  follow- 
ing parallel  renderings,  italics  showing  variations  : 
Ex  208-".  Dt  61216. 

Remember  the  sabbath  day  Guard  the  sabbath  day  to 
to  sanctify  it.  Six  days  shalt  sanctify  it,  as  Jahweh  thy  God 
thou  labour,  and  do  all  thy  commanded  thee.  Six  days 
work;  but2  the  seventh  day  shalt  thou  labour  and  do  all 
is  a  sabbaMi  to  Jahweh  thy  thy  work ;  but  the  seventh 
God.  Thou  shalt  not  do3  any  day  is  a  sabbath  to  Jahweh 
work  :  thou  and  thy  son  and  thy  God.  Thou  shalt  not  do 
thy  daughter,  thy  man-servant  any  work  :  thou  and  thy  son 
and  thy  maid-servant,  and  thy  and  thy  daughter,  and  thy 
cattle,4  and  thy  guest  who  is  man-servant  and  thy  maid- 
within  thy  gates.6  For  in  six  servant,  and  thy  ox  and  thy 
days  Jahweh  made  the  heavens  ass  and  all  thy  cattle,  and  thy 
and  the  earth,  the  sea  6  and  all  guest  who  iswithin  thy  gates;' 
that  is  in  them,  and  he  rested  in  order  that  thy  man-servant 
on  the  seventh  day.  Therefore  and  thy  maid-servant  may  rest 
Jahweh  blessed  the  sabbaths  as  well  as  thou.  And  thou 
day  and  sanctified  it.  shalt  remember  that  thou  wast 

a  servant  in  the  land  of  Egypt 
and  that  Jahweh  thy  God 
brought  thee  out  from  there 
by  a  strong  hand  and  by  an 
outstretched  arm.  Therefore 
Jahweh  thy  God  commanded 
thee  8  to  make  the  sabbath 
day. 


1  There  are  many  other  instances  of  duplicates  in  Holy  Scrip- 
ture :  Pe  18  has  been  incorporated  in  the  history  of  David 
(2S  22),  on  the  supposition  that  it  is  an  account  of  an  episode  in 
his  life  ;  but  a  more  striking  parallel  for  our  purpose,  because 
of  the  importance  of  the  material,  is  the  Lord's  Prayer  (Mt  69'13, 
Lk  112-1). 

2  LXX  has  Tfj  Si  T)ii.epa;  so  in  Dt514=DV;n, '  but  on  the  seventh 
day  there  is  a  sabbath  (or  rest).'   . 

3  LXX  adds  ee  aviij ;  so  in  Dt  514='!3,  a  necessary  correction, 
followed  by  Lat.  and  Eng.  versions.  This  reading  is  found  in 
the  PapyniB  Nash  (see  Peters,  op.  cit.  infra). 

4  LXX  reads :  '  thy  ox  and  thy  ass  and  all  thy  cattle,'  in 
agreement  with  Dt  5U.  The  translator  would  scarcely  have 
inserted  this  phrase  for  the  sake  of  harmony  when  he  leaves  so 
much  else  divergent ;  therefore  the  early  Heb.  texts  must  have 
differed  from  each  other  in  the  same  code. 

B  LXX  reads  :  ' the  guest  who  dwells  with  thee ' ;  so  in  Dt  6J4. 
In  spite  of  its  more  primitive  appearance  (cf.  below),  this  read- 
ing can  hardly  be  original,  for  the  Heb.  phrase  would  not  have 
been  changed  after  the  Greek  version  was  made.  The  LXX 
expression  is  more  comprehensive,  and  may  be  a  free  render- 
ing, though  all  else  is  intensely  literal. 

8  LXX  B  lacks  '  the  sea  ' ;  perhaps  it  is  a  later  addition. 

7  LXX  B  adds  here :  '  for  in  six  days  the  Lord  made  the 
heaven  and  the  earth  and  the  sea  and  all  that  is  in  them.'  The 
words  are  a  manifest  harmonizing  gloss,  as  is  shown  by  the  im- 
possible connexion  with  the  following  clause,  '  in  order  that  thy 
man-servant  and  thy  maid-servant  may  rest  as  well  as  thou.' 
The  gloss  may  have  been  found  in  a  Heb.  text. 

8  LXX  has  iejSSojutji/,  '  seventh ' — a  better  reading,  for  it  was 
Jahweh's  blessing  of  the  seventh  day  which  made  it  the 
sabbath. 

9  IxXX  reads  :  '  that  thou  shouldst  guard  the  sabbath  day  and 


614 


DECALOGUE 


The  peculiar  phrases  in  the  Deuteronomic  edition 
are  characteristic  of  the  author ;  they  are  unmis- 
takable, for  there  is  no  other  OT  writer  whose 
style  is  so  readily  detected  (see  Driver's  Deut.,  in 
loc).  It  will  be  noted  that  we  have  here  a  com- 
mandment, and  the  reasons  for  its  observance. 
The  two  versions  have  no  important  divergence  in 
the  commandment,  but  separate  absolutely  on  the 
reasons.  Beyond  question  Deut.  is  the  older.  The 
sanction  on  humane  grounds  is  original  with  him, 
for  it  accords  with  his  spirit  through  and  through. 
There  came  a  time  when  grounds  of  humanity 
were  not  strong  enough.  Another  editor,  perhaps 
the  one  who  constructed  the  Creation  story  in 
Gn  1-24  for  this  purpose,  put  it  on  a  basis  which 
is  to  him  distinctly  higher — that  man  should  follow 
the  example  of  God.  That  story  of  the  Creation  is 
much  later  than  Deut.,  and  this  addition  to  Ex. 
is  perhaps  the  latest  touch  to  the  Decalogue.  It 
is  unfortunate  that  this  version,  with  its  sanction 
on  a  ground  which  nobody  believes  now,  is  the  one 
in  general  Christian  use. 

In  the  Fifth  Commandment,  Dt  516  has  two 
clauses  which  do  not  appear  in  Ex  2012.  The 
former  version  runs  :  '  Honour  thy  father  and  thy 
mother,  as  Jahweh  thy  God  commanded  thee,  that 
thy  days  may  be  long,  and  that  it  may  be  well 
with  thee,  upon  the  land  which  Jahweh  thy  God 
is  giving  thee.'  These  are  common  Deuteronomic 
phrases,  and  are  plainly  editorial  additions.  The 
first  obviously  overlooks  the  fact  that  Jahweh 
Himself  is  supposed  to  give  the  words  from  His 
own  mouth.  The  second  is  found  in  the  best 
Greek  texts  of  Exodus,  but  preceding  the  clause 
about  long  days.  The  words  may  have  got  into 
some  of  the  Heb.  editions,  but  not  into  those 
which  have  come  down  to  us.  In  earlier  times, 
length  of  days  would  be  a  sufficient  reward,  but 
later  the  craving  for  good  days  would  naturally 
find  expression. 

In  the  Ninth  Commandment,  Dt  520  differs  from 
Ex  2016  by  a  single  word :  instead  of  ipv,  '  false,' 
we  find  Niy,  the  word  used  in  the  Third  Com- 
mandment for  '  vain '  (cf.  below).  The  Greek  text 
renders  freely :  '  Thou  shalt  not  falsely  testify 
against  thy  neighbour  false  testimony,'  and  the 
renderings  of  Deut.  and  Ex.  agree  verbatim  et 
literatim,  showing  a  careful  comparison,  which 
ignores  the  difference  in  our  present  Heb.  text. 
The  proper  rendering  of  the  Hebrew  is  :  '  Thou  shalt 
not  answer  against  thy  neighbour  a  false  witness. ' 
By  a  slight  change  of  the  text  (nny.  for  i")  we  get 
'  testimony,'  as  LXX.  But  the  Heb.  seems  to 
mean  that  a  man  shall  not  bring  a  false  witness 
to  testify  against  his  neighbour,  as  Jezebel  did 
against  Naboth.  This  view  makes  the  mandate 
more  ethically  refined,  laying  the  stress  of  the 
wrong  on  the  procurer  of  false  testimony  rather 
than  on  the  witness. 

In  the  Tenth  Commandment  we  have  a  consider- 
able variation  : 

Ex  20".  Dt  521. 

Thou  shalt  not  covet  the  Thou  shalt  not  covet  the 
house  1  of  thy  neighbour  ;  thou  wife  of  thy  neighbour.  Thou 
shalt  not  covet  the  wife  of  shalt  not  desire 2  the  house  of 
thy  neighbour,3  nor  his  man-  thy  neighbour,  nor  his  field, 
servant  nor  his  maid-servant,  nor  his  man-servant  nor  his 
nor  his  ox  nor  his  ass,4  nor  maid-servant,  his  ox  nor  his 
anything  which  is  thy  neigh-  ass,  nor  anything  which  is  thy 
hour's.  neighbour's. 

The  use  of  '  desire'  instead  of  repeating  'covet' 
sanctify  it.'  This  could  scarcely  be  a  rendering  of  the  present 
text.  In  the  text  above,  instead  of  ( make '  we  might  render 
'institute.' 

1  The  LXX  order  is  '  wife,'  '  house,'  as  in  Deuteronomy. 

2  LXX  uses  the  same  verb  in  both  clauses,  as  in  Exodus. 

3  LXX  adds  :  '  nor  his  field,'  as  in  Deuteronomy. 

4  LXX  adds  in  both  versions  :  'nor  any  cattle  of  his,'  to  agree 
with  v.10.  Codex  L  has  '  nor  any  vessel  of  his,'  reading  ?3  as 
'73.  The  two  texts  of  LXX  in  that  verse,  as  in  the  preceding, 
agree  verbatim  et  literatim. 


is  presumably  for  rhetorical  elegance.  The  trans- 
position of  '  wife '  and  '  house '  is  not  so  easily  ex- 
plained. It  may  be  due  to  the  greater  importance 
of  the  wife  in  the  time  of  Deut.,  taking  the  wife 
out  of  the  property  class  (so  EBi  i.  1049,  s.v. 
'  Decalogue ') ;  it  may  be  a  copyist's  error  ;  it  may 
be  an  effort  to  secure  a  more  logical  sequence,  the 
wife  not  belonging  so  strictly  to  the  category  of 
property  as  the  other  objects  enumerated ;  or  it 
may  be  due  to  the  influence  of  such  facts  as  David's 
marriage  with  Bathsheba.  The  interpolation  of 
'  field '  seems  surely  to  reflect  the  impression  made 
upon  the  people  by  the  story  of  Naboth's  vineyard, 
and  of  other  instances  which  gave  occasion  to  Is  5a 
'  Woe  unto  them  that  join  house  to  house,  that  lay 
field  to  field,  till  there  be  no  room,  and  ye  be 
made  to  dwell  alone  in  the  midst  of  the  land.  Cf. 
Mic  22.  There  are  a  few  other  variations,  but  they 
practically  consist  of  the  addition  of  conjunctions 
ra  Deut.  to  connect  the  clauses  for  greater  rhetori- 
cal effect. 

A  few  of  the  more  important  readings  of  the  Greek  text  may 
be  noted  beyond  those  already  cited.  In  Ex  201  A  reads  :  '  And 
the  Lord  spake  to  Moses  all  these  words,  saying.'  Here  we  havp 
an  explanation  of  the  singular  which  is  used  throughout  the 
Decalogue.  The  words  are  in  the  first  instance  commands  to 
Moses.  This  introduction  is  scarcely  consistent  with  the  state- 
ment of  Deut.,  that  they  were  first  inscribed  upon  stone  tablets 
by  the  finger  of  God.  Deut.  reconciles  the  two  ideas  by  saying 
that  Jahweh  first  spoke  the  words  unto  all  the  assembly  with  a 
great  voice,  and  then  wrote  them  upon  the  atone  (52-).  In  v.2, 
instead  of  '  house  of  slaves,'  LXX  has  '  house  of  bondage  '  (so  in 
Deut.) — a  reading  which  is  followed  by  our  versions.  The  Heb. 
is  better,  for  the  term  '  house  of  slaves  '  is  used  to  designate  the 
land  of  Egypt.  In  v.3,  LXX  renders  '^~7y,  '  except  me '  (jtAtjv 
ifiov)  in  Ex. ;  but  in  Dt  57  B  has  *  before  my  face '  (nob  npoa-tiirrov 
Ilov,  Lat.  in  conspectu  meo).  The  Eng.  versions  have  'before 
me'  in  the  text,  but  RVm  'beside  me.'  The  latter  is- a  doubt- 
ful rendering,  like  the  Prayer-Book  form  '  but  me.'  The  words 
literally  are  'upon  my  face,'  and  would  most  naturally  mean 
'  in  preference  to  me.'  If  that  is  the  true  sense,  then  this  com- 
mand represents  a  more  primitive  religious  conception  than  the 
absolute  monotheism  of  the  prophetic  age.  Weiss  holds  that 
the  words  forbid  the  worship  of  all  other  gods  (Das  Buck 
Exodus,  Graz,  1911). 

In  v.4  (3)  'any  likeness  which  is  in  the  heavens'  (an  exactly 
literal  tr.)  gives  no  sense.  LXX  has  Travrhs  6/101'wfia  (so  in  Deut.), 
and  this  is  followed  by  Eng.  versions.  Kittel  (Bib.  Heb.,  1906) 
suggests  Vs  miDp,  on  the  basis  of  LXX  (cf.  Dt  42»).  The  reason 
for  this  prohibition  is  given  at  length  in  Dt  416-19. 

In  v.6  D,(pi?tti"7y,  LXX  B  has  ew9  tpi'ttjs,  implying  a  reading 
"I"  instead  of  7"..  The  Heb.  is  right.  The  absence  of  the  conj. 
(though  Deut.  has  it  erroneously)  shows  that  we  have  a  case  of 
apposition,  i.e.  '  upon  the  sons,  upon  the  third  and  fourth 
generations.' 

In  v.12  LXX  has  '  upon  the  good  land '  (eni  tjJs  yijs  ttjs  ayaBfis). 
The  addition  of  'good'  sounds  like  Deut.,  and  yet  the  reading 
is  found  only  in  Exodus. 

In  w.13-15  LXX  A  transposes  here  and  in  Deut.,  having  the 
order :  adultery,  stealing,  killing.  The  change  may  be  acci- 
dental, or  due  to  an  idea  that  the  Seventh  Commandment  is 
more  closely  related  to  the  Fifth.  The  relation  is  not  very 
obvious,  and  the  LXX  was  not  wont  to  take  such  liberties. 
There  is  much  variation  in  the  order  of  these  three  command- 
ments. In  MT,  Jos.,  Syr.,  the  order  is  murder,  adultery,  steal- 
ing ;  in  Codex  Alex,  and  Ambros.,  murder,  stealing,  adultery; 
in  Codex  Vat.,  adultery,  stealing,  murder.  Peters  holds  that 
the  original  order  was  adultery,  murder,  stealing,  which  he 
says,  'commends  itself  on  internal  grounds'  (op.  cit.  p.  33). 
If  conjecture  could  govern,  the  present  writer  would  prefer  the 
order — murder,  stealing,  adultery — after  some  Gr.  texts,  on  the 
ground  that  we  have  then  a  true  sequence  in  the  development 
of  the  moral  standard.  Murder  was  recognized  as  wrong  long 
before  adultery. 

2.  Real  meaning-  of  some  of  the  commandments. 
— We  turn  now  to  the  interpretation  of  some  of 
the  more  difficult  passages. 

In  the  Second  Commandment  the  meaning  of  the 
word  '  thousands '  is  not  altogether  clear.  In  Dt  73 
we  have  apparently  a  commentary  on  this  com- 
mandment :  '  the  faithful  God,  keeping  the  covenant 
and  mercy  to  those  who  love  him  and  keep  his  com- 
mands, to  a  thousand  generations.'  This  inter- 
pretation was  followed  in  the  Targums,  and  has 
been  generally  accepted.  Weiss,  the  latest  writer 
on  Exodus,  takes  this  view.  The  contrast  with 
'  third  '  and  '  fourth  '  seems  to  support  it.  But  the 
antithesis  between  the  two  clauses  is  not  so  clear 


DECALOGUE 


616 


as  appears  at  first  sight.  In  the  first  part  we  have 
'  visiting  the  sins  of  the  fathers ' ;  in  the  second, 
'  showing  the  mercy  of  God.'  In  the  one  case  God 
brings  the  consequences  of  paternal  sins  upon  the 
sons,  in  the  other  He  displays  His  own  mercy  to 
thousands.  It  appears,  therefore,  that '  thousands ' 
is  contrasted  with  '  sons,'  not  with  '  third  and  fourth 
generation.'  Further,  D'pJ'K  never  means  'a  thou- 
sand generations '  ;  it  has  two  distinct  meanings  :  a 
'  thousand '  as  a  numeral,  and  a  body  of  a  thousand 
people,  such  as  a  regiment.  In  the  latter  connexion 
the  word  is  used  to  indicate  a  subdivision  of  a  tribe, 
and  means  a  clan  (cf.  Jg  615,  1  S  1019).  The  word 
here  must  either  be  a  numeral,  'thousand,'  or  it 
must  =  'clans.'  The  extension  of  mercy  is  there- 
fore outward  not  downward.  The  sin  goes  down 
to  the  sons,  the  mercy  goes  outward  to  the  whole 
family  or  clan. 

'  There's  a  wideness  in  God's  mercy 
Like  the  wideness  of  the  sea.' 
The  meaning  is  illustrated  in  Abraham's  plea  for 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah  (Gn  1822ff-) ;  if  there  had  been 
ten  righteous  men  in  the  city,  the  whole  population 
might  have  been  saved. 

1  he  Third  Commandment  is  the  vaguest  of  all : 
'  Thou  shalt  not  take  the  name  of  Jahweh  thy  God 
in  vain.'  The  moment  we  reflect  upon  the  words, 
the  vagueness  appears.  The  usual  interpretation 
is  that  it  is  an  injunction  against  profanity.  Weiss 
(in  loc.)  says  that  'not  only  false  swearing,  but 
every  sinful  use  of  the  name  of  Jahweh,  in  impre- 
cation, blasphemy,  charm,  divination,  and  every 
frivolous  use  is  included.'  And  yet  it  is  a  little 
difficult  to  discover  that  sense  in  the  original.  We 
should  expect  the  Ten  Words  to  deal  with  vital 
matters.  There  is  no  evidence  that  profanity  was 
specially  common  among  the  Hebrews,  or  that  they 
regarded  it  as  a  serious  offence.  From  the  con- 
cluding clause,  'Jahweh  will  not  hold  innocent' 
the  one  who  commits  this  wrong,  it  is  clear  that 
we  are  dealing  with  a  serious  evil  ;  in  fact,  with 
the  unpardonable  sin  of  the  OT.  Indeed,  we  might 
well  render  'Jahweh  will  not  forgive,'  etc.  It  is  at 
least  a  step  in  clearing  up  the  matter  to  note  that 
n'VI  means  'speak.'  First  there  was  the  full  ex- 
pression, '  he  lifted  up  his  voice  and  spake,'  then 
he  'lifted  his  voice,'  finally  'he  lifted,'  but  with 
the  meaning  'spoke.'1  et)^  means  'in  vain,'  i.e. 
without  result  (cf.  Jer  230).  We  therefore  have  : 
'  Thou  shalt  not  speak  the  name  of  Jahweh  thy 
God  without  result,'  i.e.  without  doing  what  was 
vowed  in  His  name.  Thus  we  can  grasp  the  force 
of  what  is  otherwise  a  pure  redundancy,  'for 
Jahweh  will  not  deem  innocent  him  who  speaks  his 
name  without  result. '  Now,  if  there  was  a  principle 
cherished  by  the  Hebrews  above  any  other,  it  was 
the  obligation  to  carry  out  a  vow  made  in  the  name 
of  Jahweh.  We  may  note  the  case  of  Jephthah, 
who  felt  bound  by  his  vow  to  sacrifice  his 
daughter  (Jg  11).  Other  cases  will  occur  to  the 
reader ;  and  we  find  the  principle  strongly  urged 
in  Ec  51"6.  It  may  be  remarked  that,  so  far  as 
internal  indications  go,  this  command  may  he 
early.  At  all  events  the  obligation  was  recognized 
in  the  primitive  ages.  It  was  the  misuse  of  the 
command  as  above  interpreted  that  our  Lord 
sought  to  correct  (cf.  Mt  S33"-  2316ff-).  The  Jews 
held  that  only  a  vow  in  Jahweh's  name  was  bind- 
ing ;  Jesus  teaches  that  a  man's  personal  word 
should  be  as  strong  an  obligation  as  any  oath. 

3.  Original  form  of  the  Decalogue. — It  is  ap- 
parent from  a  comparison  of  the  texts  that  the 
Decalogue  has  not  come  down  to  us  in  its  original 

1  Morgenstern  holds  that  nis  Hi  in  Bab.  is  a  technical  name 
for  an  oath,  and  that  speaking  the  name  of  the  gods  was  a  sin 
for  any  but  priests.  He  regards  Dp"  X&2  as  an  equivalent  term, 
and  the  Third  Commandment  as  having  that  meaning  ('The 
Doctrine  of  Sin  in  the  Bab.  Religion,'  MVG,  iii.  [1905]  35 f.). 
There  is  no  evidence  in  the  OT  to  support  this  new. 


form.1  Many  attempts  have  been  made  to  deter- 
mine what  that  original  form  was.  For  the  most 
part  it  is  a  matter  of  pure  conjecture.  But  it 
lias  been  noted  that  there  is  a  persistent  tradi- 
tion that  there  were  'Ten  Words,'  and  that  they 
were  inscribed  on  two  tables  of  stone.  It  has: 
been  assumed  that  there  would  be  practically 
an  even  division — five  on  each  table.2  The 
Decalogue  divides  into  two  parts,  but  Command- 
ments 1-4  deal  with  man's  relation  to  God,  and 
6-10  with  his  relations  to  men — not  therefore  an 
even  division.  In  the  Heb.  text  of  Exodus,  Oomm. 
1-5  contain  146  words,  6-10  contain  26  words. 
Taking  the  division  by  subject,  1-4  have  131  words, 
6-10  have  41  words.  Coram.  1-3  contain  76  words, 
4-10  contain  96  words.  This  is  the  nearest  approach 
to  an  even  spatial  division.  Hence  it  is  assumed 
that  the  commandments  must  originally  have  been 
all  short,  as  6-9  still  are.  Com.  2  then  would  have 
been  simply  :  '  Thou  shalt  not  make  thee  a  graven 
image ' ;  Com.  4  :  '  Remember  the  sabbath  day  to 
sanctify  it ' ;  and  Com.  10  :  '  Thou  shalt  not  covet.' 
This  would  make  commands  of  sufficiently  even 
length.  The  growth  is  easily  explained.  The 
images  were  hard  to  get  rid  of,  as  all  religious 
usages  are  hard  to  change.  To  reinforce  the  law 
and  to  prevent  evasions,  amplification  was  necessary 
and  dire  consequences  of  disobedience  must  be 
added.  Down  to  the  time  of  Nehemiah  the  rule 
for  cessation  of  labour  on  the  sabbath  day  was 
disregarded  (cf.  Nehl316tt).  Reasons  were  appended 
to  the  law  to  secure  a  stricter  conformity. 

While  all  this  is  very  probable,  the  reason  urged 
on  the  ground  of  an  even  division  on  the  two 
tables  is  not  convincing ;  for  we  have  many 
ancient  inscriptions  on  stone  and  clay,  and  there 
is  no  evidence  of  an  attempt  to  conform  the 
contents  to  the  size  of  the  material  used  for  the 
inscription.  The  size  of  the  characters  and  of  the 
tablet  is  determined  by  the  amount  to  be  written. 
The  commandments  must  have  taken  shape 
originally  according  to  their  substance,  and  could 
hardly  have  been  framed  with  reference  to  two 
tables  of  stone.  The  only  reason  for  using  two 
stones  was  that  there  was  not  room  enough  on  one, 
just  as  a  correspondent  takes  up  a  second  sheet 
when  one  does  not  suffice  for  his  letter. 

4.  How  far  Mosaic. — A  still  more  baffling 
problem  is  found  in  the  origin  of  the  Decalogue. 
In  both  codes  it  is  attributed  to  Moses,  i.e.  Moses 
is  the  mouthpiece  of  Jahweh.  In  Dt  9.  10  there 
is  an  unusual  wealth  of  detail  about  the  matter, 
describing  the  first  writing,  the  breaking  of  the 
stones,  the  second  writing,  and  the  care  for  the 
preservation  of  the  final  record.  The  Covenant 
and  the  Decalogue  are  certainly  identified  in  the 
story,  but  that  is,  of  course,  due  to  the  author  of 
Deut.,  who  lived  long  after  Moses'  day.  His 
identification  may  be  correct,  but  is  not  necessarily 
so. 

We  are  obliged  to  face  the  question  as  to  the 
value  of  this  evidence.  Now,  we  know  that  in  the 
OT  all  Hebrew  law  is  attributed  to  Moses,  as 
practically  all  Hebrew  psalmody  was  ascribed  tc 
David,  and  all  wisdom  to  Solomon.  There  is, 
therefore,  a  presumption  against  this  testimony ; 
for  it  would  be  extraordinary  if  the  whole  body  of 
a  nation's  laws  were  enacted  by  a  single  individual, 

1  The  Rabbis  were  puzzled  by  the  variants,  but,  as  usual,  were 
equal  to  the  occasion,  holding  that  both  versions  alike  were  of 
Divine  origin,  and  were  spoken  miraculously  at  the  same  time. 
Saadya  alleges  that  the  Exodus  version  was  on  the  first  set  of 
tables  that  were  broken,  and  the  Deut.  text  on  the  second 
(cited  in  JE  iv.  494,  s.v.  'Decalogue'). 

2  The  Rabbis  indulged  in  their  usual  fanciful  guesses  about 
this  distribution.  Some  held  that  all  ten  were  on  each  stone ; 
others  that  all  ten  were  on  each  side  of  each  stone ;  while  Simai 
goes  further  and  alleges  that  all  ten  were  engraved  four  times 
on  each  stone  (JE.  loc.  cit.).  The  idea  was  that  the  more  time? 
the  words  were  inscribed  the  more  important  they  were. 


616 


DECALOGUE 


and  that  before  there  was  any  nation  at  all.  The 
evidence,  therefore,  that  Moses  produced  the 
Decalogue  is  no  greater  than  that  he  produced  the 
law  governing  the  fringe  on  the  priest's  cloak. 
The  persistent  tradition  proves,  in  the  opinion  of 
the  present  writer,  that  Moses  was  a  truly  great 
lawgiver  ;  but,  by  ascribing  all  laws  to  him,  it  puts 
upon  us  the  necessity  of  determining  as  best  we  can 
his  connexion  with  any  particular  law.  We  are 
compelled,  therefore,  to  consider  whether  the 
Decalogue  could  have  come  from  so  early  a  date  as 
that  of  Moses. 

Some  of  the  prohibitions  are  of  such  a  general 
character  that  they  might  belong  to  any  period ; 
such  is  the  case  with  Comm.  3,  5-9.  Others  seem  to 
have  a  closer  relation  to  the  development  of 
religion,  and  a  place  for  them  ought  to  be  found 
accordingly.  Com.  1  is  monotheistic,  though 
perhaps  not  so  sharply  so  as  has  generally  been 
assumed  ;  for  the  meaning  may  certainly  be  that 
no  other  god  is  to  be  set  above  Jahweh,  and  this 
possibility  must  have  full  weight  (see  above).  So 
far  as  we  know,  the  victory  of  monotheism  was 
won  by  the  prophets,  one  of  the  gTeat  battles  being 
fought  by  Elijah.  But  it  is  certainly  true  that 
there  were  monotheists  from  the  earliest  days, 
such  as  Deborah,  Gideon,  and  even  the  freebooter 
Jephthah.  This  law  may  have  been  as  early  as 
Moses  for  anything  we  know  to  the  contrary. 

The  law  against  images  does  not  belong  to  the 
same  category.  Image-worship  was  certainly 
practised  down  to  the  Exile,  and  as  late  as 
Hezekiah's  time  (2  K  184),  without  rebuke.  The 
war  against  it  appears  to  have  had  as  its  main- 
spring the  effort  to  centralize  the  worship  at  the 
temple  in  Jerusalem.1  As  a  means  of  destroying 
the  cult  at  the  local  shrines,  where  images  abounded, 
they  were  forbidden,  for  there  appear  to  have  been 
no  sacred  images  in  Solomon's  temple.  It  is  true 
that  disobedience  to  a  law  does  not  prove  its  non- 
existence. The  teaching  of  Jesus  about  the  perils 
of  wealth  has  not  made  a  very  profound  impression 
on  the  world  even  yet.  But  there  was  no  strong 
motive  for  images,  and  it  is  difficult  to  think  that 
David  would  have  defied  so  fundamental  a  law 
(1  S  1913),  or  that  Isaiah  would  have  countenanced 
images  (1919).  This  command,  therefore,  appears 
not  to  have  been  formulated  long  before  the  time 
of  Deuteronomy. 

In  its  present  form,  Com.  4  cannot  be  Mosaic. 
The  nomad  is  never  a  very  hard  worker,  and  a  day 
of  rest  is  not  of  urgent  necessity  for  him.  More- 
over, such  work  as  he  does  is  necessary  on  every 
day  of  the  week.  Further,  in  the  time  of  Moses 
there  were  no  guests  (gerim, '  protected  strangers ') 
within  the  gates.  Sufficient  emphasis  does  not 
appear  to  have  been  laid  upon  the  term  'gates,' 
disclosing  as  it  does  urban  life,  and  therefore 
belonging  at  the  earliest  to  the  period  after  the 
conquest.  It  is  true  that  so  acute  a  scholar  as 
Weiss  holds  that  15$  may  mean  the  gate  of  the 
camp  as  well  as  of  the  city,  and  he  thinks,  there- 
fore, that  this  term  does  not  presuppose  the  settle- 
ment in  Palestine.  But  the  only  instance  of  this 
meaning  that  occurs  to  the  present  writer  is  Ex 
3226,  where  the  word  is  a  natural  figure  for 
'  entrance,'  easily  used  by  a  writer  familiar  with 
gates.  Moreover,  the  expression  'within  thy 
gates '  is  a  characteristic  Deuteronomic  expression, 
occurring  some  twenty  times  in  Deut.,  and  not 
found  elsewhere  in  the  Pent,  save  in  Ex  2010.  The 
solicitude  for  the  stranger  or  guest  is  also  Deuter- 
onomic. 

The  silence  about  the  sabbath  day  in  the  records 

1  Wellhausen  holds  that  the  early  Hebrews  would  object  to  a 
'jDS, '  image '  (the  word  used  in  the  Decalogue),  bufcnot  to  a  i13g£>, 
'  pillar '  (tieste  Arab.  Heid.  pp.  101, 141).  It  is  difficult  to'  see 
sufficient  ground  for  this  distinction. 


of  the  early  days  is  truly  remarkable  from  any 
point  of  view.  In  Jos  64-  "• 16  we  read  of  the 
army's  marching  around  Jericho  on  seven  successive 
days,  one  of  which  must  have  been  the  sabbath. 
That  looks  very  like  '  any  kind  of  work,'  and  was 
certainly  unnecessary.  There  are,  however,  two 
references  to  the  sabbath  which  throw  welcome 
light  on  the  situation.  In  2  K  i23  the  Shunammite 
asks  his  wife  why  she  is  going  to  the  prophet 
Elisha,  and  gives  as  the  reason  for  his  question 
'it  is  not  new  moon  and  it  is  not  sabbath.'  It 
would  be  easy  to  draw  too  large  a  conclusion  from 
this  statement,  but  one  thing  is  certain,  viz.  that 
there  is  no  objection  to  a  journey  from  Shunem  to 
Carmel  (30-40  kilometres,  20-30  miles ;  see  Kittel, 
BiXcher  der  Konige,  1900,  in  loc.)  on  the  sabbath 
day  ;  further,  it  is  a  reasonable  inference  that  the 
sabbath  was  a  day  for  religious  rites,  but  that 
cessation  of  labour  was  not  a  part  of  its  observance. 
Something  like  half  a  century  later  Amos  makes 
the  people  say  :  '  When  will  the  new  moon  be  over 
that  we  may  sell  grain,  and  the  sabbath  that  we 
may  open  up  corn  (85).  It  is  clear  that  we  have 
an  advance  from  Elisha's  time,  in  that  trade  is  not 
permitted  on  the  sabbath — precisely  the  conditions 
which  Nehemiah  enforced  (Neh  1316ff-).  The  new 
moon  is  not  mentioned  in  the  Decalogue,  but  it  is 
here,  as  in  Elisha's  time,  on  the  same  plane  as  the 
sabbath.  There  is  hardly  evidence,  therefore,  to 
support  the  existence  of  the  Fourth  Commandment. 
The  passage  may  seem  to  imply  that  the  sabbath 
had  already  come  to  be  a  mere  form  (Marti, 
Dodekapropheton,  1903,  in  loc).  But  it  is  more 
likely  that  the  prevention  of  trade  was  a  new 
feature,  not  approved  by  the  merchants ;  hence  their 
impatience  at  the  loss  of  trading  days.  It  appears 
that  under  the  prophetic  influence  a  movement 
was  making  for  a  stricter  regulation  of  both  these 
festivals.  The  effort  finally  centred  on  the  sabbath, 
and  by  Josiah's  time  all  labour  as  well  as  trade 
was  forbidden.  The  older  idea  always  persisted, 
for  Nehemiah  did  not  attempt  to  check  sabbath 
labour  in  the  fields,  but  restrained  trade  even  by 
threats  of  violence.  Even  to-day  Sunday  trading 
is  objected  to  much  more  than  Sunday  labour. 

Finally,  Com.  10  cannot  be  Mosaic  in  its  present 
form.  In  the  Exodus  version  the  first  object 
whose  coveting  is  forbidden  is  the  house ;  in 
Deut.  this  is  followed  by  the  field.  Nomads  have 
neither  houses  nor  fields.  It  is  true  that  n?3  is  often 
interpreted  as  meaning  '  household '  in  Exodus. 
This  use  is  very  common,  especially  in  the  Hexa- 
teuch.1  But  it  would  be  strange  to  say,  '  Thou 
shalt  not  covet  thy  neighbour's  family,'  and  then 
to  continue,  '  Thou  shalt  not  covet  thy  neighbour's 
wife,  and  servants  and  cattle.'  It  is  plain  that 
in  the  time  of  Deut.  n;*  was  interpreted  as  mean- 
ing 'dwelling,'  for  it  is  not  difficult  to  see  why 
'  field '  was  added.  As  we  have  noted  above,  there 
was  much  taking  of  others'  land  even  by  violence. 
The  oppressors  might  easily  reconcile  their  aggres- 
sions and  the  law  by  saying  they  had  not  taken 
the  house  but  only  the  field.  The  law  is,  there- 
fore, amended  to  carry  out  its  original  intent. 
Doubtless  the  sweeping  final  clause,  'nor  any- 
thing which  is  thy  neighbour's,'  was  added  to 
meet  casuistical  juggling.  If  the  command  was 
Mosaic,  therefore,  it  could  only  have  been  in  the 
form  quoted  by  St.  Paul,  '  Thou  shalt  not  covet ' 
(Ro  77).  But  here  we  meet  a  new  difficulty.  It 
is  often  urged  that  this  law  shows  an  ethicai 
refinement  too  great  for  the  period  of  Moses. 
Quite  true.  But  it  is  not  so  sure  that  the  re- 
finement was  too  great  for  Moses,  the  man  of 
God.  The  Decalogue  does  not  profess  to  be  a 
production  showing  the  moral  sentiment  of  the 
age,  but  is  the  work  of  the  most  enlightened  man 
1  See  the  Hebrew  lexicons. 


DECISION 


617 


of  the  time.  Among  a  rude  people  it  is  always 
possible  for  one  to  rise  head  and  shoulders  above 
the  rest,  not  only  in  stature,  like  Saul,  but  in 
moral  insight,  as  Moses  certainly  did. 

In  a  word,  if  we  strip  the  Decalogue  of  the 
known  later  accretions,  and  the  probable  additions 
to  meet  new  conditions,  the  Commandments  may 
all  be  Mosaic  except  possibly  the  First,  and  almost 
certainly  the  Second.  This  is  confessedly  very 
far  from  affirming  that  they  did  come  from  the 
hand  of  the  great  lawgiver.  Indeed,  it  is  not 
unlikely  that  the  Decalogue  itself  may  be  a  growth 
covering  a  period  of  some  centuries  before  the  last 
addition  was  made.  Various  men  may  have  tried 
their  hand  at  putting  the  great  principles  of  the 
Law  into  a  terse  and  comprehensive  form.  All 
that  we  can  say  positively  is  that  the  Decalogue 
was  complete  some  time  before  621  B.C.  (the  date 
of  Deut. ),  and  that  it  has  not  survived  in  a  standard 
and  authoritative  form.  If  it  was  originally  issued 
on  stone  tablets,  such  a  version  is  lost  beyond 
present  power  of  recovery. 

There  has  never  been  agreement  even  as  to  the  proper 
division  of  the  material  we  have.  In  Deut.  the  command 
against  coveting  fallB  into  parts,  and  Com.  1  may  be  regarded 
either  as  a  part  of  the  introduction,  or  less  probably  as  part 
of  the  First  Commandment,  which  here  deals  with  images. 
This  arrangement  is  followed  by  the  Roman  Catholic  and 
Lutheran  Churches  to  this  day,  while  most  Protestant  bodies 
and  the  Greek  Church  adhere  to  the  division  in  Exodus.1 

5.  Theology  and  ethics  of  the  Decalogue. — In 
its  theology  the  first  striking  feature  of  the  Deca- 
logue is  its  monotheism.  It  is  true  that  there  is 
some  doubt  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  First  Com- 
mandment, but,  whatever  its  original  meaning, 
it  was  ultimately  interpreted  as  an  uncompromis- 
ing prohibition  of  the  worship  of  any  deity  other 
than  Jahweh.  That  is  a  necessary  step  in  the 
development  of  any  religion.  Even  some  that  are 
formally  monotheistic  are  not  really  so.  A  prophet 
may  be  exalted  to  the  place  of  a  subordinate  deity, 
as  in  Muhammadanism ;  or  a  saint  may  be  made 
to  stand  so  close  to  God  that  the  distinction  is 
unreal  to  the  ordinary  worshipper.  In  the  lower 
forms  of  religion  there  is  a  tendency  to  divide  the 
supposed  Divine  functions,  and  assume  a  deity 
to  preside  over  each.  In  the  Decalogue,  even  in 
its  most  primitive  form,  there  is  but  one  God,  and 
all  Divine  offices  are  performed  by  Him.  In  the 
Deuteronomic  form  there  is  nothing  which  goes 
beyond  nationalism.  Jahweh  is  the  only  God  in 
Israel.  He  brought  them  out  of  Egypt,  and  He 
ordained  laws  for  them.  In  the  later  form,  the 
thought  of  Jahweh  as  the  God  of  the  whole  world 
is  brought  out  in  reference  to  creation. 

The  prohibition  of  image-worship  puts  the  re- 
ligion on  a  high  plane.  Though  it  was  supposed 
that  Jahweh  could  engrave  stones,  His  image  could 
not  be  made  in  stone.  Jahweh  was  truly  a  spiritual 
being,  too  sublime  to  be  represented  in  an  image, 
and  too  great  to  be  portrayed  in  the  likeness  of 
animal  life.  In  the  present  form  of  Com.  2, 
idolatry  is  deemed  the  worst  form  of  sin.  It  is 
this  that  arouses  the  jealousy  of  Jahweh,  and  calls 
down  enduring  punishment  upon  the  offenders, 
and  wide-spreading  mercy  to  the  innocent.  Hating 
Jahweh  is  synonymous  with  idolatry,  and  loving 
Him  is  equivalent  to  spiritual  devotion.  This  con- 
ception could  hardly  have  come  from  the  pre- 
prophetic  period. 

The  ethical  tone  of  the  Decalogue  is  very  high, 
especially  if  we  assign  it  to  the  early  period  of 
national  life.  We  note  first  the  demand  for  truth- 
fulness. Really  this  appears  in  both  Comm.  3  and  9. 
No  one  was  to  swear  to  his  neighbour  and  then 
disappoint  him,  no  matter  what  the  consequences 
might  be — a  command  correctly  interpreted  in  Ps 

1  There  are  really  three  uses,  the  Jews  taking  the  preface  as 
Com.  1.     For  the  details,  see  art.  '  Decalogue,'  in  HDB  i.  580. 


154  ; 1  and  no  one  was  permitted  to  bolster  up  a  bad 
case  against  his  neighbour  by  the  introduction  of 
false  witnesses.  Killing  and  stealing  are  fairly 
common  vices  among  undeveloped  races,  and  are 
far  too  prevalent  even  among  the  most  advanced 
peoples.  But  the  clear  terse  laws  on  the  two 
tables,  without  any  qualifications  whatever,  doubt- 
less saved  many  a  life  in  Israel,  and  helped  to 
maintain  personal  property  inviolate.  The  for- 
bidding of  coveting  reaches  the  evangelical  note 
(cf.  Mt  5s8).  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  assume 
that  coveting  is  as  great  a  vice  as  stealing,  or  that 
a  lustful  desire  is  as  degrading  as  a  lustful  act. 
But  even  in  the  early  ages  it  must  have  been 
apparent  that  coveting  leads  to  vicious  action. 
Abimelech  coveted  the  throne,  and  the  murder  of 
his  seventy  brothers  resulted  ( Jg  9).  Ahab  coveted 
the  land  of  Naboth,  and  the  murder  of  Naboth  and 
the  confiscation  of  his  land  was  the  consequence 
(1  K  21).  David's  passions  were  aroused  by  the 
sight  of  a  beautiful  woman,  and  there  followed  the 
criminal  death  of  Uriah  and  the  unholy  marriage 
with  his  widow  (2  S  11). 

The  ethical  standards  of  the  world  are  still  far 
too  low,  but  it  is  certain  that  they  would  be  even 
lower  but  for  the  great  influence  of  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments. It  is  very  desirable  that  they  be 
stripped  of  later  accretions,  and  in  a  simpler  and 
more  original  form  continue  to  be  read  to  the 
people  in  the  churches  and  taught  to  the  children 
in  the  Sunday  schools. 

Literature. — The  student  will  naturally  consult  the  various 
commentaries  on  Exodus  and  Deut.,  the  Bible  dictionaries  and 
encyclopaedias,  and  works  on  Hebrew  religion.  The  following 
may  also  be  consulted  :  G.  L.  Robinson,  The  Decalogue  and 
Criticism,  Chicago,  1899 ;  R.  Kraetzschmar,  Die  Bundes- 
vorstellung  im  AT,  Marburg,  1896 ;  Meisner,  Der  Dekalog 
Halle,  1893;  B.  Baentsch,  Das  Bundesbuch,  Halle,  1892; 
N.  Peters,  Die  alteste  Abschrift  der  zehn  Gebote,  Freiburg 
i.  B.  1905 ;  F.  W.  Farrar,  The  Voice  from  Sinai,  London 
1892  ;  J.  Oswald  Dykes,  The  Law  of  the  Ten  Words,  do.,  1884 : 
E.  Kautzsch,  art. '  Religion  of  Israel,'  in  HDB,  vol.  v.  p.  612. 

L.  w.  Batten. 
DECISION. — The  term  '  decision '  may  be  used 

(1)  concretely,  of  the  judgment  which  is  affirmed  at 
the  conclusion  of  a  period  of  deliberation  (q.v.) ;  or 

(2)  abstractly,  of  the  ability  to  '  come  to  a  decision,' 
i.e.  to  bring  deliberation  to  a  conclusion. 

Decisions  are  as  various  in  kind  as  the  subjects 
about  which  we  deliberate.  Thus  the  judge  issues 
his  decision — that  a  charge  is  proved  or  not  proved  ; 
a  connoisseur  decides  that  he  prefers  one  wine  to 
another.  Decisions  which  consist  in  the  resolve 
that  a  certain  kind  of  action  is  to  be  performed 
by  oneself  seem  to  form  a  class  apart.  It  is  in 
connexion  with  these  that  the  strife  between 
necessitarians  and  libertarians  has  been  waged. 
This,  however,  is  a  controversy  affecting  the  de- 
termination of  content  of  the  judgment  which  is  a 
decision,  i.e.  the  quality  of  the  conduct  decided  on. 
Though  extreme  necessitarians  declare  that  every 
decision  is  mechanically  determined,  no  one  denies 
the  reality  of  decision  as  a  psychological  crisis. 
This  crisis  consists  in  a  concentration  of  the  atten- 
tion on  the  idea  of  one  of  the  possible  courses  of 
action  before  us,  with  a  consequent  inhibition  of 
the  ideas  of  the  other  possibilities.  Recent  advo- 
cates of  the  doctrine  of  free  will  (q.v.)  base  their 
argument  upon  the  feeling  of  effort  which  accom- 
panies a  typical  class  of  decisions.  See,  further, 
Desire,  Will. 

Literature.— W.  James,  Text-book  of  Psychology,  London, 
1892,  pp.  416-460;  W.  M.  Wundt,  Human  and  Animal 
Psychology,  Eng.  tr.,  1901,  p.  233.  G.  B.  T.  ROSS. 


1  This  is  finely  brought  out  in  the  Prayer-Book  version : 
•  He  that  sweareth  unto  his  neighbour,  and  disappointeth 
him  not,  though  it  were  to  his  own  hindrance.'  This  is  a 
conflate  reading.  The  Heb.  has  :  '  He  that  sweareth  to  his 
own  hurt' ;  the  Greek  :  'He  that  sweareth  to  his  neighbour.' 
The  liturgical  version  contains  both  readings.  See  Perowne 
(Psalms5,  London.  1898)  on  the  passage. 


518 


DECOLLATI— DEGENERATION 


DECOLLATI. — The  full  expression  is  le  anime 
dei  corpi  decollati,  '  the  souls  of  executed  criminals.' 
These  souls  are  the  object  of  a  popular  cult  in 
Sicily.  It  is  spread  throughout  the  island  ;  but  its 
most  famous  shrine  is  the  Church  of  the  Decollati, 
near  the  river  Oreto  at  Palermo.  It  seems  to  have 
arisen  out  of  the  sympathy  naturally  felt  in  an 
oppressed  community  for  sufferers  at  the  hands  of 
a  ruling  caste.  For  many  centuries  Sicily  was 
subject  to  rulers  who  were  either  foreigners,  or  at 
any  rate  divided  by  a  sharp  and  impassable  line 
from  the  mass  of  the  people.  The  latter  were 
ignorant,  and  more  or  less  passively  hostile  to  the 
governing  class.  They  regarded  all  who  were  put 
to  death  under  the  forms  of  law  as  heroes  ;  nor  did 
they  distinguish  between  moral  and  merely  legal 
ciimes, — between  acts  directed  against  the  rulers 
and  acts  directed  against  society  at  large, — if,  in- 
deed, these  two  categories  were  always  distinguish- 
able. The  priests  were  for  the  most  part  drawn 
from  the  '  folk,'  and  probably  shared  to  a  great 
extent  their  ignorance,  their  superstitions,  and 
their  feeling  towards  the  government.  The  execu- 
tions were  public.  The  condemned  man  (called 
I'afflitto,  '  the  afflicted '),  having  been  reconciled  to 
the  Church  and  having  received  its  consolations, 
was  regarded  as  a  martyr  ;  and  his  death-scene 
was  a  species  of  triumph.  He  passed,  it  was  true, 
into  purgatory ;  but  his  prayers  on  behalf  of 
others,  even  from  purgatory,  were  deemed  to 
have  great  intercessional  value  by  virtue  of  his 
sufferings. 

Formerly  at  Palermo  several  of  the  churches 
witnessed  the  cult  of  the  Decollati.  During  recent 
centuries,  however,  it  became  the  custom  to  bury 
in  the  graveyard  adjoining  the  little  church  beside 
the  Oreto  such  bodies  of  criminals  as  were  not 
given  to  their  friends,  or  reserved  to  adorn  the 
gallows  in  chains.  Accordingly,  the  cult  has 
concentrated  there.  Its  particular  shrine  is  a 
side-chapel  filled  with  votive  offerings  of  wax, 
testifying  to  the  various  benefits  for  which  the 
intercession  of  the  Decollati  is  sought.  The  souls 
of  the  Decollati  are  believed  to  congregate  under  a 
large  stone  just  inside  the  door  of  the  chapel. 
Pilgrimages  are  frequent;  and  the  pilgrim,  having 
performed  his  devotions  at  the  altar  of  St.  John 
the  Baptist,  adjourns  to  the  chapel  and  prays  to 
the  Decollati,  listening  for  an  answer  to  the  prayer. 
The  slightest  sound  is  taken  for  a  favourable  reply. 
Invocations,  however,  may  be  addressed  to  them 
elsewhere  by  suppliants  who  cannot  undertake  the 
pilgrimage. 

The  objects  for  which  intercession  is  sought  are 
primarily  protection  from  violence  or  accident,  and 
the  cure  of  sufferers  from  either.  For  the  Decol- 
lati, however  much  they  may  in  their  lifetime  have 
been  guilty  of  violence,  now  having  suffered  and 
been  reconciled  to  the  Church,  hate  violence  and 
punish  it,  or  at  least  protect  and  heal  its  victims. 
By  an  extension  of  the  idea,  they  are  invoked 
against  diseases,  especially  haemoptysis,  of  which 
bleeding  is  the  manifestation.  Two  long  cases  of 
rude  water-colour  drawings  on  the  churchyard 
walls  record  with  ghastly  detail  many  examples  of 
vows  made  and  benefits  received,  where  violence, 
accident,  or  disease  of  the  kinds  indicated  was 
concerned.  But,  in  fact,  the  good  offices  of  the 
Decollati  are  not  limited  to  these.  They  are  im- 
plored for  aid  by  the  poorer  classes  throughout 
Sicily  on  all  sorts  of  occasions,  and  for  all  sorts  of 
purposes.  They  have  their  prayer-formulae,  which 
are  extensively  used ;  and  many  stories  of  miracles 
performed  by  them  in  person  are  current.  The 
ordinary  vehicles  of  the  country  are  light  carts, 
painted  with  scenes  from  the  history  and  traditions 
of  the  island.  Many  of  these  carts  are  adorned 
with  paintings  of  the  Decollati. 


Literature. — The  cult  has  been  described  and  illustrated 
with  many  details  by  Giuseppe  Pitre,  the  venerable  recorder  of 
the  insular  traditions  and  customs.  See  particularly  his  Biblio- 
teca  delle  tradizioni  popolari  siciliane,  i.  (Palermo,  1871)  77, 
ii.  (1871)  38,  xvi.  (1889)  i  ff.,  La  Vita  in  Palermo,  ii.  (Palermo, 
1905)  ch.  xviii.,  MostrL  etnografica  siciliana  (Palermo,  1892), 
51,  80.  See  also  a  paper  by  the  present  writer,  with  plates  from 
photographs,  in  FL  xxi.  (London,  1910)  168. 

E.  Sidney  Hartland. 
DECRETALS.— See  Bulls  and  Briefs. 

DEDICATION.— See  Consecration. 

DEGENERATION.— i.  Application  of  the 
term. — '  Mental  degeneracy '  is  a  term  which  is 
applied  to  a  group  of  characteristics  inferred 
from  the  speech,  behaviour,  or  productive 
activity  of  individuals,  and  generally  held  to  be 
symptomatic  of  defect  in  the  central  nervous 
system.  The  nervous  defect  in  question  may  be 
either  congenital  or  acquired  through  accident  or 
disease ;  in  either  case,  it  may  be  organic  or 
'functional.'  Savill  (Neurasthenia,  17)  defines  a 
functional  nervous  disease  negatively,  as  one  in 
which  '  no  anatomical  changes  can  be  found  after 
death,  either  with  the  naked  eye  or  with  the 
microscope,  which  can  account  for  the  symptoms 
during  life.'  It  may  really  be  due  to  some 
structural  change,  which  available  means  cannot 
determine,  to  the  presence  of  toxic  materials  in 
the  blood  (of  endogenous  or  exogenous  origin),  to 
deficient  quantity  or  quality  of  blood,  or  to 
exhaustion  of  the  nerve  tissues  from  excessive  use, 
etc. 

The  term  also  implies  that  the  individual  falls 
markedly  below  the  mental  level  attained  by  the 
average  or  normal  member  of  the  race,  sex,  age, 
and  period  of  civilization ;  but,  since  the  number 
of  degrees  of  defect  is  potentially  infinite,  and  the 
defect  may  be  either  general  or  special  (in  the 
former  case  touching  all  the  mental  capacities,  in 
the  latter  such  special  functions  as  sensation, 
memory,  emotion,  etc.),  the  actual  usage  of  the 
term  is  extremely  indefinite.  Thus  it  is  employed 
to  denote  (1)  actual  insanity,  including  amentia, 
imbecility,  dementia,  mania,  and  melancholia  ;  (2) 
persistent  criminality ;  (3)  mental  instability, 
excitability,  excessive  irritability,  or  mere  eccen- 
tricity ;  and  (4)  the  neuroses  of  hysteria,  psych- 
asthenia,  and  others  :  to  the  last  two  groups  belong 
those  whom  Dr.  Balfour  has  named  the  'denizens 
of  the  borderland'  (Edin.  Med.  Journ.  1901).  It 
would  seem  that  strictly  the  word  should  apply 
only  to  those  who  have  some  congenital  defect  in 
mental  capacity,  excluding  those  in  whom  the 
defect  has  been  due  either  to  accidental  injury,  or 
to  lesions  of  the  brain  arising  from  toxic  influences, 
subsequent  to  the  birth  of  the  individual  (for 
example,  alcoholic  insanity,  or  insanity  sequent 
upon  typhus  fever).  It  is  impossible,  however,  to 
draw  a  hard  and  fast  line  between  the  congenital 
and  the  acquired,  as  many  cases  of  insanity  would 
not  have  occurred  had  not  the  individual  been 
already  predisposed  to  the  disease  by  physiological 
or  mental  weakness.  On  the  other  hand,  the  term 
is  also  frequently  applied  to  an  acquired  defect, 
especially  when  it  is  of  the  progressive  type. 

In  popular  usage  the  word  '  degenerate '  means 
one  whose  tastes  are  lower  than  those  of  the  society 
in  which  he  has  been  educated,  e.g.  a  clergyman's 
son  who  associates  with  racing  touts  or  public- 
house  loafers  ;  or  one  whose  intelligence  and  tastes 
show  a  marked  deterioration  from  his  own  earlier 
standard,  as  in  alcoholism,  etc.  It  is  applied 
aesthetically  to  those  whose  interests,  whether  as 
readers  or  as  authors,  as  artists  or  as  critics,  lie  in 
disease,  physical  or  moral ;  to  realists  or  naturalists 
in  the  narrow  sense  of  these  words ;  and  also  to 
pessimists.     The  assumption  is  that  the  healthy 


DEGENERATION 


519 


mind  will  avoid  these  things  as  topics  of  thought 
or  imagination,  except  with  the  object  of  removing 
them  or  lessening  their  evil  effects ;  that  only  the 
diseased  mind  will  seek  to  dwell  upon  disease,  or 
take  a  pleasure  in  its  contemplation. 

To  the  biologist,  the  degenerate  appears  as  a 
reversion  to  an  older  type  of  the  race,  as  one  who 
has  been  born  with  a  physical  nature  in  which 
some  primitive  human  or  even  pre-human  stage  of 
cerebral  development  is  reproduced.  He  is  a 
primitive  being  set  in  a  civilized  environment, 
unable  to  adapt  himself  to  it,  and  hence  coming 
into  conflict  with  its  conditions. 

The  only  common  feature  underlying  these 
diverse  applications  of  the  term  is  a  marked 
'  deviation  from  type '  either  in  quantity  (energy, 
rate,  etc.),  or  in  quality,  of  thought  and  action. 

2.  Physical  and  mental  conditions  of  degeneracy. 
— The  causes  of  such  mental  deviations  may  be 
grouped  in  three  classes  :  (1)  an  originally  defective 
physical  and  mental  capacity,  or  defective  develop- 
ment ;  (2)  physical  accident  or  injury,  disease, 
privation,  etc.,  by  which  the  central  nervous 
system  is  weakened  locally  or  generally ;  and  (3) 
social  conditions,  such  as  family  life,  educational 
disadvantages,  poverty,  occupation,  etc.  (Ferri, 
Criminal  Sociology,  Eng.  tr.,  London,  1895,  ch.  2). 
Thus,  alcoholism  may  occur  in  a  given  individual 
becausehe  is  by  nature  unstable,  excitable,  pleasure- 
loving  ;  because  his  brain  has  been  weakened  by 
an  exhausting  disease  ;  through  mere  imitation  of 
heavy-drinking  companions  ;  from  lack  of  employ- 
ment, unbearable  home  life,  or  other  social  con- 
ditions ;  or  from  any  combination  of  such  factors — 
the  result  in  each  case  being  a  gradual  deteriora- 
tion of  the  nervous  system,  by  which  the  original 
tendency  is  strengthened,  until  the  control  of  the 
will  is  destroyed. 

The  relation  between  mental  and  physical  defect 
is  by  no  means  so  clear  or  so  simple  as  is  commonly 
assumed.  It  is  argued  that,  with  the  exception  of 
those  relatively  few  cases  in  which  the  disorder 
can  be  traced  to  some  definite  accident,  such  as  a 
fall  or  blow  upon  the  head,  or  to  some  virulent 
fever  which  has  been  caught  by  infection,  it  in- 
variably arises  from  a  congenitally  defective 
disposition  of  the  nervous  system ;  this  defect  or 
weakness  predisposes  to  insanity,  so  that  any 
physical  or  mental  shock  which  might  leave  a 
healthy  individual  uninjured  overthrows  the 
balance  of  such  subjects  and  renders  them  insane. 
They  suffer  from  what  Maudsley  (Body  and  Mind, 
43)  has  called  '  the  worst  of  all  tyrannies,  the 
tyranny  of  a  bad  organization.'  The  result  of  this 
organization  may  be  that  the  normal  development 
cannot  be  completed,  that  the  subject  remains  at 
a  lower  level,  mentally  and  physically,  than  his 
more  fortunate  brethren ;  hence  either  definite 
idiocy,  insanity,  or  some  of  the  minor  forms  of 
defect  already  referred  to.  In  cases  of  idiocy  there 
is  almost  invariably  some  malformation  of  the 
brain,  whether  in  its  size,  in  its  shape,  or  in  the 
complexity  of  the  convolutions  (the  brains  of 
many  idiots  remaining  as  smooth  as  those  of  the 
higher  apes) ;  the  result  is  an  arrested  development, 
and  a  disproportionate  growth  of  the  different 
parts  of  the  system,  which,  under  the  principle  of 
'recapitulation,'  suggest  a  reversion  to,  or  a 
stopping  short  at,  some  stage  in  the  animal 
ancestry  of  the  human  individual.  Popular 
superstition  has  always  recognized  a  close  relation- 
ship between  mental  defect  and  congenital  physical 
deformity ;  Shakespeare's  '  stigmatie '  contains 
both  the  modern  name  and  the  modern  idea  (the 
'  stigmata '  of  the  insane,  of  the  criminal,  of  the 
hysterical  temperament).  From  Hippocrates  on- 
wards many  have  insisted  that  in  a  great  number 
of  persons  the  predisposition  to  insanity  is  inherited, 


and  hence  that  slighter  causes  are  sufficient  to 
produce  its  onset  than  in  other  persons  ;  moreover, 
that  this  predisposition  may  be  inherited  from 
parents  not  necessarily  insane,  but  only  nervously 
diseased  ;  the  contrary  is  also  true — mere  nervous 
disease  in  the  child  corresponding  to  and  connected 
with  insanity  in  the  parents  or  near  ancestors.  In 
'  degenerate  families  there  is  a  tendency  for  this 
degeneracy  to  be  progressively  worse  from  genera- 
tion to  generation,  until  ultimately  sterility 
appears,  leading  to  the  extinction  of  the  degenerate 
race  (Talbot,  ch.  1).  Moreau-de-Tours  renewed 
the  old  thesis  that  genius  is  twin  brother  to 
madness,  both  being  in  many  cases  derived  from 
the  same  parentage,  and  argued  that  degenerate 
types  often  represent  throw-backs  or  reversions  to 
more  primitive  types  of  evolution.  The  principal 
application  given  to  this  doctrine  has  been  in  the 
theory  of  criminality,  of  which  Lombroso  was  the 
chief  exponent,  viz.  that  the  criminal  is  born,  not 
made,  that  (passion  and  accident  apart)  crimes 
spring  from  natures  in  which  both  the  physical 
and  the  mental  characteristics  are  those  of  primi- 
tive man,  or,  it  may  be,  of  the  ape.  The  physical 
stigmata  of  the  '  congenital  criminal ' — deformity 
of  skull,  sloping  forehead,  prominent  cheekbones 
and  projecting  jaw,  large  ears,  small  deep-set  and 
'  shifty  eyes,  irregular  dentition,  cleft  palate, 
stammering,  etc. — are  not  now  so  seriously  taken, 
and,  according  to  Lugaro  (p.  17),  the  anthropo- 
logical theory,  whether  applied  to  insanity  or  to 
crime,  is  'a  thing  of  the  past. '  It  is  true  that  both 
the  criminal  and  the  idiot  or  imbecile  are  more 
liable  to  diseases,  such  as  phthisis,  etc.,  than  the 
normal  individual,  and  have  many  other  physio- 
logical deficiencies ;  while  statistics  have  been 
frequently  compiled  to  show  the  apparent  trans- 
mission from  parent  to  child  of  the  '  criminal 
temperament,'  and  its  hereditary  relationship  with 
imbecility  and  insanity.  From  such  data,  however, 
even  if  we  exclude  the  immeasurable  influence  of 
environment,  physical  and  social,  it  can  be  argued 
only  that  some  nervous  deficiency  is  transmitted, 
which  disposes,  under  '  favourable '  conditions,  to 
insanity,  crime,  or  mental  instability. 

Against  the  physical  theory  of  degeneracy  (as 
an  all-sufficient  account),  there  may  be  pointed  out 
the  frequency  with  which  mental  causes  produce, 
or  at  least  initiate,  a  change  of  intellectual  or 
moral  character,  e.g.  emotional  shock,  disappoint- 
ment, loss  of  occupation  or  of  means,  death  of 
husband,  wife,  or  child,  social  degradation,  religious 
emotion,  school  strain,  privation,  prolonged  worry, 
etc.  It  is  by  no  means  necessary  that  a  hereditary 
or  congenital  physical  predisposition  should  exist 
in  all  cases ;  thus,  a  shock  coming  closely  upon  or 
during  an  illness  or  exhaustion,  or  a  period  of 
insomnia,  may  give  all  the  conditions  necessary 
for  the  outbreak  of  insanity.  The  influence  of  the 
mind  upon  the  production  of  insanity  was  fully 
recognized  by  Pinel  in  1801,  and  by  others  after 
him.  The  evolution  theory  gave,  however,  a 
stronger  hold  to  the  organic  theory  of  mental 
disease,  and  its  connexion  with  heredity,  so  that 
this  view  is  now  practically  universal.  It  is  clear 
that  such  disease  is  always  a  product  of  two  factors 
— a  predisposition  on  the  one  hand,  physical  or 
mental  ;  and,  on  the  other,  a  shock  or  a  stress 
leading  to  the  actual  appearance  of  the  insanity  or 
mental  defect.  Thus  the  physiologically  critical 
periods  of  life  are  those  at  which  outbreaks  of 
insanity  are  most  frequent — first  and  second 
dentition,  puberty,  adolescence,  the  climacteric, 
etc.  Of  course,  if  we  assume  from  the  first  that 
mind  is  never  an  agent  of  bodily  changes,  but 
always  their  mere  concomitant  or  their  effect,  then 
mental  degeneracy  cannot  but  be  the  sign  or 
symptom   of   physical    degeneracy,   which   is  the 


520 


DEGENERATION 


reality  underlying  all  the  phenomena.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  may  with  equal  plausibility  be  argued 
that  the  real  factor  is  the  mental  disposition,  the 
fundamental  mode  of  feeling  and  of  reacting  upon 
impressions,  which  has  a  characteristic  form  and 
degree  in  every  individual,  but  is  variously  modified 
by  the  temporary  disposition  which  arises  in 
connexion  with  bodily  states — fatigue,  exhaustion, 
illness,  etc.  A  shock  or  stress  will  disturb  the 
mind  more  or  less,  according  to  its  fundamental 
and  temporary  disposition  at  the  period  when  the 
strain  comes.  Without  prejudice  to  any  theory  of 
the  relation  of  body  to  mind,  it  may  be  admitted 
that  actions  are  the  outcome  of  the  dominant 
feeling  or  emotion,  which  in  its  turn  is  mainly  a 
product  of  perceptions  and  reproductions  or 
memories ;  hence  in  human  conduct  the  mental 
life  predominates  over  the  physiological :  and  this 
is  especially  the  case  after  the  child  has  become 
able  to  appreciate  moral  ideas.  It  is  not  denied 
that  the  physical  nature  has  an  immense  influence 
in  the  causation  of  insanity.1  But  it  is  claimed  (1) 
that  this  physical  nature  may  be  largely  modified 
by  education  and  by  suggestion ;  (2)  that  it  may 
itself  be  of  a  mental  origin  either  in  the  ancestors 
or  in  the  individual ;  (3)  that  the  outbreak  of 
insanity  is  almost  invariably  caused  by  mental 
factors,  including,  for  example,  emotional  shock 
or  mental  contagion  (as  in  imitative  insanity) ;  and 
(4)  that  the  insanity  may  be  cured  by  suggestion 
and  other  mental  measures,  in  addition  to  physical 
hygiene  (Dubois,  in  Archives  de  psychologie,  x. 
[1910]  1  :  '  Psychological  Conception  of  the  Origin 
of  Psychopathies '). 

3.  Symptoms  of  mental  degeneracy. — The  mani- 
fold forms  in  which  mental  degeneracy  expresses 
itself  may  be  illustrated  from  the  two  most  im- 
portant '  functional '  diseases — hysteria  and  psych- 
asthenia. 

(i.)  Hysteria  has  been  defined  as  a  'morbid 
mental  condition  in  which  ideas  control  the  body 
and  produce  morbid  changes  in  its  functions ' 
(Dana,  Journ.  of  Abnormal  Psychol.,  Feb.  1907). 
Its  most  prominent  features  are  anaesthesia, 
amnesia,  loss  of  control  over  the  attention,  paralysis 
of  certain  muscles.  (1)  The  anaesthesia  may  be 
the  loss  of  sensibility  in  the  whole  of  a  special 
sense  (e.g.  blindness)  without  any  injury  either  to 
the  sense-organ  or  to  the  conducting  nerve-fibres ; 
or  it  may  be  partial  (monocular  blindness ;  narrow- 
ing of  the  field  of  vision  in  both  eyes;  colour- 
blindness), or  systematic  (loss  of  power  to  perceive 
certain  persons  or  classes  of  objects,  while  the 
sensibility  is  otherwise  intact).  A  historical 
illustration  is  the  '  devil's  marks '  on  the  skin,  by 
the  insensibility  of  which  a  woman's  guilt  in 
trials  for  witchcraft  was  often  determined.  The 
insensibility  differs  from  that  which  is  due  to  nerve- 
injury,  in  that  it  is  not  permanent,  but  varies  ;  it 
is,  for  example,  sometimes  removed  during  sleep, 
or  under  the  influence  of  chloroform,  or  in  the 
hypnotic  trance,  while  emotional  excitement  of 
any  kind  is  said  to  intensify  it.  Also  the  insensi- 
bility does  not  correspond  to  the  distribution  of  a 
particular  nerve  or  group  of  nerves ;  many  of  the 
reflexes  are  preserved  in  connexion  with  the  sense- 
organ,  while  the  insensible  limb  is  not  liable  to 
accident  or  to  injury,  as  is  the  case  with  insensi- 
bility arising  from  a  severed  nerve.     It  has  been 

l  Cf.  Lugaro,  p.  22 :  'The  functional  insufficiency  of  a 
Bhrunken  gland  in  the  neck  causes  the  syndrome  of  cretinism. 
Slight  but  chronic  lesions  of  the  kidneys  can  determine  con- 
ditions of  stupidity,  temporary  loss  of  speech,  and  violent 
attacks  of  confusion  and  agitation.  A  febrile  malady  occurring 
in  infancy,  though  transient,  attracting  little  notice,  and 
passing  away  almost  unobserved,  can  ruin  the  brain  beyond 
repair.  The  effects  of  this  may  either  manifest  themselves  as 
moral  and  intellectual  defects  of  every  degree,  or  as  epileptic 
convulsions  which  may  appear  after  many  years,  and  by  their 
repetition  progressively  destroy  the  mind.' 


proved  also  that,  while  the  subject  is  unaware  of 
the  existence  of  such  anaesthesias,  and  therefore 
does  not,  of  course,  notice  the  impressions  which 
are  made  on  the  insensitive  organs,  these  are 
nevertheless  recorded,  and  may  be  later  brought  to 
consciousness,  e.g.  when  the  patient  is  hypnotized  ; 
these  and  many  similar  facts  show  that  the  seat  of 
the  anaesthesia  is  not  in  the  sense-organ  but  in  the 
central  organ,  the  cerebrum.  Physiologically  the 
impression  is  made  on  the  nervous  system,  but  it 
is,  under  the  special  conditions,  unable  to  effect 
consciousness,  as  in  other  conditions  it  would 
(Janet,  L'jZtat  mental  des  hysteriques,  p.  20  ff. ). 

(2)  A  further  group  of  symptoms  is  found  in  the 
amnesias,  which  also  almost  always  accompany 
hysteria.  The  memory  may  be  defective  in  one  or 
more  of  many  different  ways  ;  it  may  simply  show 
weakness,  the  subject  being  unable  to  remember 
events  of  recent  occurrence,  or  material  which  has 
been  learned,  with  the  same  vividness,  accuracy, 
and  completeness  as  a  normal  individual ;  or  the 
defect  may  be  specialized  so  that  particular  qualities 
or  classes  of  experiences  can  no  longer  be  recalled 
at  all ;  for  example,  visual  memories,  or  auditory 
memories,  or  the  memory  of  actions ;  and  within 
any  one  of  these  groups  there  may  be  specialization  : 
in  the  visual  group  the  patient  may  be  unable  to 
recall  the  colours  of  objects,  while  remembering 
their  forms  and  their  light  and  shade  ;  in  the 
auditory  group,  he  may  remember  spoken  words, 
but  not  melodies  or  tones,  etc.  Or  the  lapse  of 
memory  may  be  systematized,  and  this  also  in  two 
ways :  (a)  with  reference  to  the  time-series ;  a 
period  of  life  may  be  wholly  forgotten — sometimes 
a  recent  period,  sometimes  a  more  distant  one, 
while  events  before  and  after  this  period  are  re-, 
membered  with  distinctness  ;  [b)  with  reference  to 
systems  of  knowledge,  as,  for  example,  when  the 
power  of  reading  lapses,  or  the  memory  for  a  parti- 
cular language,  or  a  particular  science,  etc.  ;  still 
more  completely  systematized  are  the  cases  in 
which  a  particular  object  or  person,  formerly 
familiar,  is  no  longer  remembered. 

(3)  The  will  and  power  of  attention  may  be 
affected.  There  may  be  excessive  concentration 
on  one  impression  or  idea,  or  there  may  be  in- 
capacity to  concentrate  the  attention  upon  any 
impression  or  idea  ;  in  the  former  case  we  have  an 
approximation  to  the  state  of  melancholia,  in  the 
latter  case  to  the  state  of  mania  or  the  insane  flight 
of  ideas.  Whether  the  span  of  attention  is  nar- 
row or  wide,  a  subject  may  be  distracted  from 
a  task  by  the  slightest  stimuli,  and  hence  be  un- 
able to  learn  new  material  or  to  complete  any  task 
attempted  by  him  ;  on  the  other  hand,  even  though 
the  attention  be  unconcentrated,  it  may  still  be 
excessively  persistent,  just  as  in  ordinary  experi- 
ence a  weak-willed  individual  may  on  occasions 
reveal  the  utmost  obstinacy  of  character.  Edu- 
cation and  development  are  mainly  a  function  of 
the  power  to  direct  the  attention,  at  will,  to  objects 
uninteresting  in  themselves,  or  for  the  moment 
uninteresting  to  the  individual :  this  power  the 
hysteric  patient  possesses  to  a  minimum  degree. 
His  attention  is  easily  caught  by  sensory  im- 
pressions which  fall  within  his  field  of  morbid 
interest,  by  ideas  which  enter  the  mind  through 
purely  casual  associations  (associations  of  contigu- 
ity, of  similarity  of  sound,  or  the  like),  but  is 
not  caught  or  held  by  ideas  of  deeper  logical  value. 
As  the  attention  decides  which  of  the  many  ideas 
that  are  clamouring  on  the  margin  of  consciousness 
shall  enter  its  focus  and  become  determinative  of 
the  course  of  our  actions  and  of  the  course  of  our 
thoughts,  so  in  hysteria  the  level  of  thought  and 
action  falls.  Words  suggest  thoughts  through 
their  sound  (punning,  rhyming  words)  rather  than 
through  their  meaning ;   .actions  are  decided   by 


DEGENERATION 


521 


sensations  or  simple  associative  images  rather  than 
by  systematized  tendencies  built  upon  experience  ; 
originality  and  spontaneity  are  replaced  by  banality 
or  by  automatism. 

(4)  On  the  motor  side,  there  is  frequently  para- 
lysis, or  paresis,  inability  or  weakness  in  the  use 
of  the  limbs  on  one  side  of  the  body,  or  of  a  parti- 
cular limb  or  organ,  or  a  particular  muscle ;  and 
(5)  usually  also  disturbances,  of  '  nervous  '  origin, 
in  the  circulatory  and  other  functions  of  the  body 
— asthma,  vertigo,  palpitation,  fainting,  congestion, 
etc.  Sometimes  a  power  is  exercised  over  these 
functions,  which  to  the  normal  individual  appears 
impossible :  e.g.  control  of  the  heart,  or  of  the 
digestive  processes,  ability  to  hasten  or  retard 
them  at  will.  Both  the  muscular  and  the  organic 
defects  or  abnormalities  are,  like  the  anaesthesias, 
of  purely  central  origin  ;  i.e.  they  spring  directly 
from  some  temporary  and  local  change  in  the  cere- 
bral system — a  change  which,  however,  has  probably 
a  mental  origin. 

The  different  phenomena  in  a  particular  case  may 
usually  be  traced  to  a  single  system  of  ideas,  which 
has  obtained  an  undue  control  over  the  personality 
— for  example,  the  memory,  conscious  or  suppressed, 
of  some  emotionally  exciting  event  or  experience. 
Cure  is  sometimes  effected  by  suggestion,  which 
strengthens  the  power  of  the  personality  over  the 
ideas,  sometimes  by  a  shock  or  accident  calling  up 
the  dormant  energies  of  the  individual :  thus  in 
one  case  (Donaldson,  Growth  of  Brain,  London, 
1895,  p.  304,  from  Taylor,  Journ.  of  Nerv.  and 
Ment.  Dis.,  1888)  a  lady  recovered  from  a  hysteric 
paralysis  on  the  sudden  death  of  her  husband  ;  in 
another,  a  cure  resulted  from  the  elopement  of  a 
daughter.  For  the  most  part,  however,  almost  any 
stimulus  is  enough  to  re-excite  the  dominant  idea, 
and  to  determine  thought  and  action  according  to 
it.  Thus  a  man  who  had  been  lost  in  the  Aus- 
tralian Bush,  and  in  the  agony  of  thirst  had 
frequently  plunged  into  imaginary  pools  of  water, 
used,  long  after  his  rescue,  under  the  slightest  dose 
of  alcohol,  to  go  automatically  through  the  actions 
of  diving,  regardless  of  the  surroundings  or  of  the 
position  in  which  he  was.  There  is,  for  the  most 
part,  some  such  absorption  by,  or  fixation  of  the 
mind  upon,  the  compelling  thought,  with  entire 
failure  to  correlate  it  with  the  immediately  given 
sensations  and  impressions,  or  to  criticize  it  by 
them.  Epidemics  of  hysteria  or  insanity  are  com- 
mon among  peoples  or  races  at  a  low  level  of 
development,  or  who  suffer  from  insufficient  nutri- 
tion (J.  M.  Clarke,  '  On  Hysteria,'  Brain,  xv.  [1892] 
526). 

A  well-known  case  is  that  of  Haute-Savoie,  1857,  in  which  a 
young  girl  saw  a  companion  taken  out  of  a  stream  half-drowned  ; 
the  girl  fell  down  in  unconsciousness,  and  a  few  days  later  a 
friend  who  was  with  her  became  similarly  affected.  Other 
hysterical  phenomena  followed.  Within  four  years  there  were 
120  persons  in  the  same  neighbourhood  affected  in  the  same 
way,  and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  public  exorcisms  were 
held  by  the  priest.  The  epidemic  was  stopped  '  by  the  Govern, 
ment  sending  a  force  of  gens  d'armes  to  the  district,  removing 
the  parish  priest,  isolating  the  patients,  and  sending  the  worst 
cases  to  distant  hospitals'  (Clarke,  loc.  tit.).  Here  it  is  the 
force  of  suggestion  acting  on  an  unstable  nervous  organism,  and 
securing  an  influence  over  the  internal  organs  of  the  body  such 
as  is  not  possessed,  or  is  possessed  only  to  a  very  slight  degree, 
by  the  normal  individual.    See  also  art.  Hysteria. 

(ii. )  A  different  complex  of  symptoms  is  presented 
by  what  is  now  called  psychasthenia,  or  '  obsessional 
insanity'  (Janet),  although  at  some  points  it  is 
closely  related  to  hysteria.  Whereas  in  the  latter 
the  morbid  ideas  are  specific  or  particular,  in  ob- 
sessional insanity  they  are  general  or  governing 
ideas,  entering  into  relation  with  every  possible 
action  or  thought  of  the  subject,  for  example,  the 
idea  that  one  is  a  criminal,  or  has  committed 
some  unpardonable  sin.  The  idea  is  involuntarily, 
continuously,  and  painfully  present  to  the  mind, 
if  not  in  the  centre,  at  least  on  the  verge,  of  con- 


sciousness, so  that  to  escape  from  it  is  impossible. 
The  general  ideas  most  commonly  present  are 
those  of  (a)  crime,  including  homicide,  suicide, 
dipsomania,  sacrilege,  etc.,  and  there  are  two 
forms — the  obsession  of  committing  the  crime,  and 
the  obsession  of  remorse  for  a  crime  already  com- 
mitted, the  actual  crime  being  in  such  cases 
enormously  exaggerated  in  the  mind  (what  was 
really  a  mere  thought  or  passing  idea  being  trans- 
formed into  an  actual  deed) ;  (b)  physical  or  mental 
defect,  again  in  two  forms — obsession  of  being,  and 
obsession  of  becoming.  Thus,  a  lady  who  is  dis- 
tressed at  her  actual  stoutness  may  refuse  food,  or 
take  insufficient  rest  in  consequence,  while  a  lady 
at  present  of  moderate  dimensions  may  adopt  the 
same  tactics  from  fear  of  becoming  unduly  stout. 
Other  instances  are  the  fear  of  approaching  old  age, 
of  approaching  madness,  of  approaching  death. 

The  common  qualities,  as  regards  the  content  of 
the  obsessional  ideas,  are  :  (1)  they  regard  acts  or 
states  of  the  subject  himself,  not  primarily  of  any 
external  object ;  (2)  the  acts  or  states  are  socially 
disreputable,  wicked,  or  ridiculous,  or  in  general 
undesirable ;  (3)  (and  in  this  is  the  fundamental 
difference  from  hysteria)  they  are  endogenous,  self- 
suggested,  whereas  in  hysteria  the  morbid  idea  is 
usually  exogenous,  or  suggested  from  without. 
Accordingly,  we  find  that  at  the  early  stages  there 
is  full  consciousness  of  the  absurdity  or  folly  of  the 
obsession  ;  and  also  that,  except  in  rare  cases,  the 
morbid  action  is  not  completely  realized.  Thus,  a 
kleptomaniac  used  to  take  a  servant  with  him  when 
he  went  shopping,  to  watch  and  afterwards  return 
the  stolen  articles  ;  in  another  case,  a  youth,  after 
taking  poison,  telephoned  to  his  mother  to  inform 
her  of  the  fact,  with  the  (expected)  result  of  a 
doctor's  arrival.  Again,  the  hallucinations  have 
not  the  same  definiteness  or  '  body '  as  those  of 
hysteria  ;  they  lack  details,  and  hence  the  slightest 
effort  of  the  attention  destroys  them,  as  is  the  case 
in  dreams  ;  they  are  seldom  completely  external- 
ized, or  definitely  located  ;  they  are  really  symbolic 
or  type-ideas,  standing  for  a  system  of  thought 
rather  than  for  a  definite  object. 

On  the  volitional  side,  there  are  almost  invari- 
ably automatisms,  that  is,  actions  which  occur 
independently  of  and  even  in  opposition  to  the  will 
of  the  subject.  These  Janet  classifies  into  three 
groups,  in  each  of  which  the  disturbance  is  either 
systematic  or  diffuse.  (1)  Mental  agitations,  in- 
cluding the  systematic  forms — manias  of  interro- 
gation, of  doubt,  of  precision,  of  explanation ; 
and  the  diffuse  form — the  mania  of  rumination  or 
reverie.  The  essential  character  of  all  is  a  move- 
ment of  the  mind  which  is  incapable  of  arresting 
itself  upon  any  one  fact  or  thought,  but  is  com- 
pelled to  pass  beyond  it,  to  add  something  to  it, 
and  then  something  more,  and  something  more, 
without  end — '  ideas  either  revolving  in  a  circle,  or 
branching  out  endlessly,  but  in  any  case  never 
reaching  an  end,  a  definite  conclusion '  (Les 
Obsessions,  i.  150).  Familiar  cases  are  those  in 
which  a  patient  deliberates  for  hours  about  carry- 
ing out  some  simple,  and,  normally,  habitual 
action :  e.g.  that  of  putting  on  a  sock,  choosing  a 
necktie,  stepping  over  an  object  in  the  roadway. 
(2)  On  the  motor  side,  what  are  called  'tics,'  that 
is,  automatic  actions,  twitchings,  movements  of  the 
lips,  etc. ,  these  being  in  nearly  all  cases  symbols  or 
traces  of  complete  actions  as  suggested  by  the 
ideas — 'psychic  short-cuts.'  (3)  On  the  emotional 
side  there  are  systematic  dreads,  or  '  phobias,'  or  a 
generalized  anguish  or  terror.  Among  the  '  phobias' 
are  the  fear  of  crossing  an  open  space  (agoraphobia), 
fear  of  remaining  in  a  shut  or  closed  place  (claustro- 
phobia), fear  of  infectious  disease  (nosophobia), 
fear  of  insanity,  of  snakes,  of  vermin,  etc.  The 
diffuse  form  has  sometimes  been  called  panophobia, 


522 


DEGENERATION 


a  generalized  expectation  or  dread  of  some  untoward 
event  happening. 

4.  Explanation  of  the  symptoms. — The  explana- 
tion of  these  phenomena  is  found  first  in  a  weaken- 
ing of  the  mind,  by  which  the  control  over  the 
finer  mechanism,  alike  of  association  and  of  volun- 
tary movement,  is  relaxed  and  ultimately  destroyed. 
The  contrast  with  the  normal  individual  is  the  same 
as  that  which  occurs,  within  an  individual  life, 
between  bodily  health  and  sickness  or  fatigue — in 
the  former  case  the  greater  activity,  co-ordinative 
power,  effectiveness  of  movement,  ability  to  re- 
collect at  will,  and  to  direct  the  thoughts ;  in  the 
latter  state  the  weakening  or  failure  of  these 
powers.  Obsessional  insanity  is  an  exaggeration 
of  this  relatively  healthy  state,  having  its  centre 
or  point  of  support  in  some  actual  psychical  ex- 
perience of  the  subject.  In  hysteria,  the  general 
symptoms  may  most  simply  be  referred  to  a  dis- 
aggregation of  the  personality :  some  group  or 
groups  of  memories,  or  of  habits,  or  of  other 
acquired  activities,  separate  off  from  the  control- 
ling consciousness  with  which  the  normal  individual 
identifies  his  self  or  ego.  Thus,  in  the  automatic 
writing  and  other  expressive  movements  of  hysteric 
or  neurasthenic  patients  (Binet,  Janet,  etc.),  the 
subject  is  entirely  unaware  of  the  actions  done, 
although  they  would  normally  imply  consciousness 
both  to  initiate  and  to  carry  out.  So,  the  hypnot- 
ized subject  may  carry  out  many  actions  which 
apparently  involve  deliberate  consciousness,  and,  on 
awakening,  show  complete  ignorance  of  them  ;  and 
there  are  familiar  cases  in  which  a  patient  leads, 
for  a  shorter  or  longer  period  of  time,  a  different 
life  from  that  of  bis  normal  condition,  during  which 
he  is  unconscious,  or  at  least  has  no  memory,  of  his 
previous  state,  while  afterwards,  on  recovery,  he 
has  forgotten  the  temporary  abnormal  state  (Ansel 
Bourne,  etc. ).  Morton  Prince  gives  a  remarkable 
instance  of  such  a  case  of  double  or  multiple  per- 
sonality in  his  Dissociation  of  a  Personality. 
Normally  all  our  experiences,  or  at  least  those 
which  are  important  to  us,  are  synthesized,  unified 
in  the  single  dominant  consciousness  or  personality ; 
abnormally,  some  bundles  of  experience,  more  or 
less  large,  are  detached  from  this  unifying  con- 
sciousness, and  form  secondary  personalities,  which 
may  make  use  of  the  general  fund  of  memories, 
habits,  etc.,  organized  in  our  experience,  and  re- 
presented in  the  intimate  structure  and  fabric  of 
the  brain.  It  is  not  necessary  here  to  discuss  how 
far  these  self-realizing  ideas  deserve  the  name  of 
'  separate  consciousnesses '  or  '  separate  person- 
alities.' There  are  all  degrees  of  disaggregation — 
between  the  simple  hearing  and  answering  of  a 
question  by  an  absorbed  reader,  without  subse- 
quent awareness  on  his  part  of  the  action,  and  the 
extreme  form  found  in  Ansel  Bourne,  Janet's 
'  Leonie,'  or  Prince's  '  Miss  Beauchamp.'  There  is 
a  close  parallelism  between  such  cases  and  insanity 
— for  example,  the  insanity  of  fixed  ideas,  or  of 
delusions,  etc.  Freud  argues  that  many  of  these 
secondary  personalities,  as  is  the  case  in  insanity, 
represent  attempted  realizations  of  certain  wishes, 
desires,  ambitions,  which  the  subject  has  been 
prevented  from  successfully  carrying  out,  or  which 
he  has  voluntarily  repressed  (Neurosenlehre,  ed. 
E.  Hitschmann,  Leipzig,  1911,  p.  54).  On  the  one 
band,  there  is  a  loss  (or  a  defect),  in  Janet's  view, 
of  tension  or  tonus  in  the  central  nervous  system, 
or  some  part  of  it,  and  on  the  other  a  '  psychic 
misery,'  a  disorganization  of  the  mental  life,  in 
which  images  and  ideas  tend  to  realize  themselves 
apart  from  the  control  usually  exercised  by  the 
self  on  the  basis  of  past  experience  and  according 
to  the  claims  of  the  social  environment.  (On 
.  mental  dissociation,  see  also  J.  Macpherson,  Mental 
Affections,  London.  1899.) 


Corresponding  to  this  disorganization  of  the 
mind  is  the  existence  of  what  may  be  called  a 
floating  mass  of  emotion,  dread,  or  anxiety,  ready 
to  attach  itself  to  any  idea  that  may  arise,  and 
leading  to  actions  that  may  be  out  of  all  propor- 
tion to  the  motive-idea,  taken  by  itself.  This 
emotion  is  really  the  mass  of  feeling  that  springs 
from  the  altered  bodily  constitution,  and  the 
altered  organic  and  other  sensations  which  form 
the  basis  of  the  'feeling  of  self.'  Since  the  altera- 
tions consist  largely  in  an  increase  of  bodily  and 
especially  of  painful  sensations,  the  emotion  as  a 
whole  is  of  the  depressive  type.  Such  an  emotion 
necessarily  alters  the  whole  mental  character,  and 
especially  the  moral  character  :  the  subject  be- 
comes timid,  secretive,  cunning,  superstitious,  self- 
ish, and  cruel.  In  originally  higher  types  there 
is  a  tendency  to  pessimism  :  the  patient  is  unable 
to  carry  out  the  ideals,  frequently  extravagant, 
which  he  sets  before  himself ;  hence  doubt  and 
distrust  of  himself  and  others ;  his  life  is  suffused 
with  pain ;  slight  motives  cause  him  distress  and 
anxiety  ;  this  '  psychosis '  he  projects  into  others, 
and  believes  life  to  be  predominantly  painful. 

Obsessions  and  fixed  ideas  are  for  the  most  part 
the  result  of  a  logical  attempt  to  account  for  the 
emotion  of  which — although  not  of  its  cause — the 
subject  is  conscious.  In  other  cases  the  system  of 
ideas  may  be  derived  first  from  the  environment — 
consciously  or  unconsciously  —  and  the  dread  or 
anxiety  is  built  upon  it  or  attached  to  it  after- 
wards (see  Williams,  in  Journ.  Abn.  Psychol,  v. 
[1910]  2). 

The  same  features — disaggregation,  depressive 
emotional-tone,  or  both — may  occur  in  mental  de- 
generation at  all  its  levels.  Thus  in  the  imbecile, 
there  is  failure  to  co-ordinate  experiences,  to  take 
more  than  the  first  few  steps  in  the  synthesis  of 
personality :  the  result  is  impulsiveness  of  char- 
acter, inability  to  concentrate  the  attention,  moti- 
vation only  by  the  simplest  ideas,  and  these  only 
in  isolation  from  one  another,  no  coherent  or 
sustained  activity  either  of  thought  or  of  action. 
Where  depression  is  also  present,  the  imbecile  may 
become  the  criminal,  with  homicidal  or  other 
socially  dangerous  tendencies.  In  the  paranoiac, 
there  is  failure  to  form,  or  the  lapse  of,  the  highest 
mental  synthesis — the  recognition  of  the  '  social 
self ' — on  which  the  possibility  of  morality  and  of 
religion  depends :  hence  the  primary  self-conscious- 
ness has  the  field  to  itself  ;  there  is  an  unrestrained 
assertion  of  individual  wishes  and  desires,  and  a 
total  disregard  for  the  convenience,  wishes,  or 
claims  of  others.  The  enormous  self-esteem  easily 
leads  to  delusions  of  unlimited  power,  wealth,  or 
high  rank  (megalomania),  or,  where  depression  is 
present,  to  mania  of  persecution,  etc.  The  nearest 
parallel  that  we  have  in  normal  life  is  to  be  found 
in  dreams  (q.v.),  the  analogy  of  which  with  insanity 
has  been  frequently  pointed  out  ( Moreau-de-Tours, 
Maury,  Sir  Arthur  Mitchell,  etc.).  The  higher 
systems  are  out  of  function,  for  the  time  being ; 
the  will  is  at  rest ;  each  idea,  suggested  by  present 
sensory  impressions,  or  by  recent  experiences,  has 
the  field  of  consciousness  to  itself :  hence  it  takes 
on  an  illusory  objectivity,  and  appears  as  a  real 
experience  or  perception,  while  it  tends  to  call 
up  associate  ideas  which,  however,  are  bound  to 
it  only  by  the  lowest,  purely  mechanical,  bonds 
(habit-associations,  associations  of  sensory  simi- 
larity). Thus,  Maury  (Le  Sommeil  et  les  rSves3, 
Paris,  1865,  ch.  vi.)  describes  a  dream  in  which  the 
main  incidents  were  connected  together  through 
the  words  'Kilometre,'  'Kilogram,'  'Gilolo,' 
'  Lobelia,'  '  Lopez,'  '  Loto.'  Simultaneous  dissocia- 
tion of  personality  is  also  a  common  feature  of  the 
dream  :  we  appear  to  be  debating  with  another 
person,  who  questions  us  and.answers  us  ;  both  dis- 


DBHRA-DBICIDB 


623 


putants,  however,  are  ourselves.  Maury  (loc.  cit.) 
mentions  that  the  apparent  revelations  of  dreams 
may  sometimes  be  traced  to  forgotten  memories  of 
our  own,  which  we  recall  to  ourselves  and  put  in 
the  mouth  of  another  person,  in  our  dream.  In 
general,  however,  the  thoughts  of  the  dream  are 
trivial,  absurd,  meaningless,  as  any  one  may  prove 
for  himself  by  writing  down,  immediately  on 
waking,  the  words  he  has  just  been  uttering  in  his 
dream.  The  same  defect,  and  the  same  lack  of 
power  to  criticize  what  passes  through  the  subject's 
own  mind,  we  have  found  to  be  common  in  mental 
degeneracy.  The  hallucinations  of  the  insane,  and 
the  vague  emotional  depression,  dread,  or  anxiety, 
have  also  their  analogy  in  dream-life.  All  these 
phenomena  of  degeneracy  appear  also  in  normal 
life  during  fatigue,  exhaustion,  illness,  senility, 
and  in  the  temporary  insanity  of  intoxication  by 
alcohol  or  other  drugs  (nicotine,  opium,  hashish, 
etc.  ;  see,  for  example,  R.  Meunier,  Le  Hachich, 
Paris,  1909). 

5.  Progressive  mental  degeneration. — When  de- 
generation attacks  a  well-developed  mind,  the 
symptoms  frequently  show  a  regular  sequence, 
according  to  Ribot's  Law  of  Regression  or  In- 
volution (see  his  Diseases  of  the  Memory) ;  the 
more  unstable  forms  of  experience  or  acquirement 
are  the  first  to  lapse,  i.e.  (1)  the  most  recently 
acquired,  (2)  the  most  complex,  (3)  the  least 
frequently  repeated,  the  least  habitual  or  auto- 
matic powers.  Thus,  in  senile  insanity,  or  in  the 
beginnings  of  alcoholic  insanity,  it  is  the  power  to 
meet  new  situations,  to  face  difficulties,  to  create, 
invent,  or  discover,  that  fails  earliest :  habitual 
situations  are  met,  adequately  perhaps,  in  habitual 
ways,  but  the  bloom  of  individuality  is  gone. 
There  follows  the  delicate  appreciation  of  moral 
values — there  is  an  increase  of  selfishness,  and  of 
obstinacy,  along  with  a  failure  of  higher  ambi- 
tions ;  then  the  more  complex  intellectual  acquisi- 
tions, professional  skill,  scientific  interests ;  then 
the  memory  for  recent  events,  the  recollection  of 
the  less  familiar  complexes  of  experience.  With  the 
narrowing  of  intellectual  interest,  the  emotional 
life  occupies  a  larger  space ;  the  patient  becomes 
irritable,  and  irritating,  discontented,  malicious, 
neglectful  of  the  ordinary  conventions  of  life  ;  his 
thoughts  and  his  speech  become  less  coherent, 
more  vulgar  and  petty,  until,  finally,  dementia 
leaves  no  powers  in  function  except  the  primitive 
instincts  and  reflexes,  with  at  the  most  a  few  of 
the  more  ingrained  habits  of  mind  and  body.  In 
a  general  way  also,  although  by  no  means  in 
detail,  these  stages  have  their  parallels  in  the 
different  concrete  forms  of  degeneracy  found  in 
different  individuals — from  the  morally  deficient 
'  intellectual '  down  to  the  congenital  imbecile  or 
idiot. 

Literature. — H.  Maudsley,  Body  and  Mind,  London,  1S73, 
Pathology  of  Mind?,  do.  1895,  Responsibility  in  Mental  Disease, 
do.  1S74,  31876;  E.  S.  Talbot,  Degeneracy,  its  Causes,  Signs, 
and  Results,  London,  1898 ;  H.  H.  Ellis,  The  Criminal, 
London,  1901 ;  C.  Lombroso,  The  Man  of  Genius  (Eng.  tr., 
London,  1S91),  L'  Uomo  delinquente,  Turin,  1896-7,  etc. ;  P. 
Pollitz,  Die  Psychol,  des  Verbrechers,  Leipzig,  1909  (a  good 
summary  of  the  present  position  of  criminal  psychology) ; 
Magnan-Leg;rain,  Les  De'ge'ne're's,  Paris,  1895 ;  T.  A.  Ribot's 
works  on  the  Diseases  of  Personality  (Chicago,  1S91),  of  Will 
(Chicago,  1896),  of  Memory  (Eng.  tr.,  London,  18S2),  of  which 
there  have  been  numerous  Fr.  editions;  P.  Janet,  L'Auto- 
matisme  psycholoqique? ,  Paris,  1910  (1st  ed.  18S9),  Les  Obsessions 
et  la  psychasthenic,  2  vols.,  do.  1S9S,  21903,  L'&tat  mental 
des  hysteriques-,  do.  1911  ;  Morton  Prince,  Dissociation  of  a 
Personality,  London,  1905 ;  J.  Jastrow,  The  Subconscimis, 
London,  1906;  T.  D.  Savill,  Nexirastheniat,  London,  1906 
(bibliography) ;  E.  Lugaro,  Modern  Problems  of  Psychiatry, 
Eng.  tr.,  London,  1909.  J.   L.   MdNTYRE. 

DEGRADATION.— See  Discipline. 

DEHRA. — A  town,  the  capital  of  Dehra  Dun, 
a  valley  projecting  from  the  Plains  of  Northern 


India  like  a  triangle  towards  the  source  of  the 
Jumna  river  and  the  main  range  of  the  Himalaya, 
lat.  30°  19'  59"  N.  ;  long.  78°  2'  57"  E.  From  a 
religious  point  of  view,  the  place  is  remarkable  as 
the  seat  of  a  strong  body  of  Udasis,  a  Sikh  order 
of  Hindu  ascetics,  who  are  said  to  owe  their  estab- 
lishment to  the  son  of  Guru  Nanak,  the  founder  of 
Sikhism.  Their  gurudwara,  or  temple,  the  work 
of  their  leader  Ram  Ray,  was  erected  in  A.D.  1699. 
The  central  block,  in  wirich  the  bed  of  the  guru  is 

Preserved,  was  built  on  the  model  of  the  Emperor 
ahangir's  tomb  at  Lahore.  At  the  corners  are 
smaller  monuments  in  honour  of  the  guru's  four 
wives.  The  temple  is  supported  by  a  large  endow- 
ment, and  the  guru,  who  nas  the  revenues  at  his 
disposal,  is  the  richest  man  in  the  Dun  valley. 
Formerly  the  appointment  of  each  new  guru,  who 
was  selected  from  among  the  disciples  of  the  de- 
ceased guru,  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Sikh  chiefs 
of  the  Panjab,  who,  at  each  new  installation, 
made  a  gift  to  the  British  Government  and  received 
in  return  the  complimentary  present  of  a  pair  of 
shawls.  This  practice  is  now  discontinued.  The 
special  dress  of  the  members  of  the  sect  is  a  cap 
of  red  cloth  shaped  like  a  sugar  loaf,  worked  over 
with  coloured  thread,  and  adorned  with  a  black 
silk  fringe  round  the  edge.  The  mahant,  or  guru, 
enjoys  high  consideration  in  the  country  round  ; 
and  large  numbers  of  devotees,  drawn  from  all 
classes  of  Hindus,  attend  the  shrine.  But  the 
most  enthusiastic  worshippers  naturally  come 
from  the  Cis-Sutlej  Sikh  States.  The  annual 
ceremonies,  which  last  ten  days,  are  performed  at 
the  Hindu  feast  of  the  Holi  in  spring. 
Literature. — Atkinson,  Himalayan  Gazetteer,  in.  [1886]  197 f. 

W.  Crooke. 

DEICIDE. — This  term,  though  not  new,  has 
been  used  in  the  past  with  such  restricted  meaning, 
and  so  seldom,  that  there  is  an  imperative  need  to 
enlarge  its  definition  before  it  can  be  of  service  in 
that  branch  of  scientific  research  in  which  it  is 
increasingly  used.  The  following  definition,  taken 
from  Ogilvie's  Imperial  Diet,  of  the  Eng.  Lang., 
will  show  this : 

'  Deicide =(\)  The  act  of  putting  to  death  Jesus  Christ  our 
Saviour.  "  Earth,  profaned,  yet  blessed  with  deicide  "  (Prior). 
(2)  One  concerned  in  putting  Christ  to  death  (Craig).  [Rare  in 
both  senses.]' 

Another  quite  recent  dictionary  defines  the  word 
thus  :  '  The  killing  of  God  ;  especially  the  cruci- 
fixion of  Christ.'  Though  there  is  here  a  definition 
more  in  accord  with  modern  requirements,  the 
student  of  religions,  acquainted  with  facts  which 
seem  to  show  that  there  has  been  a  wide-spread 
custom  of  putting  to  death  both  men  and  animals 
thought  to  be  gods  incarnate,  must  set  aside  every- 
thing that  so  narrows  the  word  as  to  make  it  unfit 
for  his  purpose.  Doing  this,  one  is  left  with  what 
is,  after  all,  a  mere  translation  of  the  Latin  term, 
viz.  'the  killing  of  a  god,' or,  more  briefly,  'god- 
slaughter.'  It  is  in  this  largest  sense  that  the 
word  is  to  be  here  used.  For  obvious  reasons, 
there  will  be  few,  if  any,  references  to  what  was 
at  one  time  looked  upon  as  the  sole  instance  of 
deicide — the  Crucifixion. 

None  of  the  phenomena  which  the  scientific 
study  of  religions  has  made  known  has  aroused 
more  interest  than  those  obscure  rites  and  cere- 
monies, those  strange  customs,  which  seem  best 
explained  by  the  theory  that  deicide,  once  supposed 
to  find  its  only  example  in  the  Crucifixion,  has 
been,  in  fact,  a  wide-spread  custom,  which  has  left 
a  deep  impress  on  the  religious  thought  of  the  race. 
Before  giving  the  few  instances  of  this  custom 
which  space  limits  allow,  it  will  be  well  to  make 
some  kind  of  classification,  which  will  enable  the 
student  to  understand  more  fully  their  nature  and 
extent.  It  is  suggested  that  instances  of  god- 
slaughter  may  be  placed  in  one  or  other  of  two 


624 


DEICIDE 


main  classes,  as  being  (1)  real,  (2)  mimetic  or 
symbolic.  A  noticeable  variety  of  the  former  is, 
on  one  theory  at  least,  traceable  in  certain  solemn 
expiatory  sacrifices,  and  may  therefore  be  termed 
'expiatory'  or  'piacular.'  Again,  in  many  of 
these  instances  for  which  the  name  '  mimetic '  or 
'  symbolic '  has  been  suggested,  the  effort  '  to  keep 
in  remembrance '  seems  so  prominent  that  they 
may  well  be  termed  '  commemorative. '  The  follow- 
ing is  therefore  suggested  as  a  working  classification 
for  those  instances  of  god-slaughter  which  seem  to 
have  been  enacted. 

1.  Real  (with  sub-class  '  piacular '  or  '  expia- 
tory ')• — Cases  of  real  god-slaughter  may  be  seen 
in  the  strange  custom,  at  one  time  wide-spread 
though  now  well-nigh  extinct,  of  putting  to  death 
kings  and  chieftains  at  set  times,  or  when  they 
showed  some  sign  of  approaching  decay  and  death. 
There  is  evidence  to  show  that  originally  these 
high-placed  victims  were  looked  upon  as  Divine  in 
a  very  real  sense — gods  incarnate.  Such  Divine 
honours  are  still  ascribed  by  savage  people  to  their 
king  or  ruler.  The  existence  of  these  Divine 
beings  in  full  vigour  was  deemed  necessary  to  the 
welfare  of  all  their  people.  It  was  a  proof  that 
their  god  could  still  safeguard  their  interests.  The 
reason  for  putting  these  gods  incarnate  to  death  is 
believed  to  have  been  the  dread  lest,  through 
disease  or  decay  of  strength,  they  might  be  unable 
any  longer  to  help  and  keep  in  safety  those  who 
looked  to  them  for  these  blessings.  It  was  neces- 
sary, therefore,  that  a  fresh  and  more  vigorous 
incarnation  should  be  sought  for,  to  take  the  place 
of  that  which  was  ready  to  vanish  away. 

Africa  and  India  furnish  the  best  attested 
instances  of  such  deicide,  though  traces  of  it  are 
supposed  to  have  been  discovered  in  the  accounts 
of  old-world  rites  handed  down  by  elassieal  writers. 
Three  centuries  ago  it  was  the  practice  to  put  to 
death  the  king  of  Sofala,  an  African  State,  when 
even  a  slight  bodily  blemish  became  manifest; 
whilst  the  king  of  Eyeo,  also  in  Africa,  was 
expected  to  commit  suicide  should  his  headmen 
think  it  demanded  by  the  needs  of  the  State. 
Again,  in  one  of  the  kingdoms  of  Southern  India 
the  king  was  put  to  death  or  compelled  to  self- 
immolation,  after  a  reign  of  twelve  years.  Similar 
customs  seem  to  have  obtained  in  others  of  the 
Indian  States.  It  is  not  surprising  to  find  that,  in 
course  of  time,  means  of  evading  this  disagreeable 
necessity  were  discovered ;  one  method,  that  of 
providing  a  substitute,  human  or  animal,  having  a 
special  interest  as  being  the  possible  beginning  of 
vicarious  sacrifice. 

An  interesting  variety  of  these  customs  may  be 
seen  in  cases  where  an  original  totem  has  developed 
into  a  deity  worshipped  by  the  members  of  the 
totem  clan.  It  has  been  observed  that  at  certain 
times,  when  the  deity  seems  to  be  estranged  from 
his  worshippers,  or  for  some  other  reason  the  clan- 
bond  needs  renewing  or  cementing,  recourse  has 
been  had  to  sacrifices  of  special  solemnity  and 
efficacy.  In  these  the  victim  has  been  an  animal 
of  the  same  species  as  the  original  totem.  In  other 
words,  the  very  deity  constitutes  the  sacrifice  which 
is  to  heal  the  breach  between  himself  and  his 
worshippers.  It  is  not  difficult  to  see  in  these 
solemn  renewals  of  covenants  the  beginning  of 
expiatory  or  piacular  sacrifice.  There  seems  to  be 
a  sufficient  reason  for  thinking  them  to  be  cases  of 
piacular  deicide.  On  the  other  hand,  the  solemn 
putting  to  death,  by  his  own  priests,  of  the  divine 
Apis  bull  of  Egypt,  after  the  lapse  of  a  certain 
number  of  years,  seems  rather  to  be  an  instance  of 
the  endeavour  to  secure  a  renewal  of  the  Divine 
life  in  an  incarnation  of  unbroken  vigour. 

2.  Mimetic  or  symbolic  (with  sub-class  '  com- 
memorative').— This  has  its  roots  in  those  myths 


which  constitute  so  large  a  part  of  the  quasi- 
theology  of  the  great  ancient  Nature-religions.  In 
these  myths  the  phenomena  of  Nature  are 
personified  and  deified,  and  her  processes  become 
incidents  in  the  lives  of  the  gods  thus  originated. 
The  myths  which  most  readily  furnish  illustrations 
of  the  matter  now  in  hand  are  those  connected 
with  the  changes  of  the  season  which  are  so  closely 
related  to  the  growth  of  vegetation,  the  quickening 
of  the  seed,  and  the  maturing  of  the  kindly  fruits 
of  the  earth.  Such  are  the  myths  of  Adonis,  the 
Syrian  deity,  slain  by  the  hunted  boar  on  Mount 
Lebanon,  so  that  his  blood  reddened  the  waters  of 
the  river  which  carried  it  down  to  the  sea ;  of 
Osiris,  slain  by  the  malice  of  his  brother  Set  or 
Typhon ;  of  Dionysus,  god  of  the  vine,  who, 
according  to  the  Greek  myth,  was  put  to  death  by 
jealous  Juno.  Many  quaint  superstitions  and 
ceremonies  still  surviving,  among  the  peasantry 
of  Europe  as  well  as  among  the  farmers  and  culti- 
vators of  well-nigh  all  other  lands,  find  their  best 
explanation  in  the  wide-spread  belief  in  similar 
stories.  In  them,  and  in  the  rituals  based  upon 
them,  were  set  forth  the  death  by  violence  and, 
in  some  cases,  the  subsequent  resurrection  of  a 
god — a  god  of  vegetation,  and  especially  of  corn. 

J.  G.  Frazer  writes  thus  of  the  Adonis  rite :  '  His  death  was 
annually  lamented  with  a  bitter  wailing,  chiefly  By  women ; 
images  of  him,  dressed  to  resemble  corpses,  were  carried  out  as 
to  burial  and  then  thrown  into  the  sea  or  into  springs  ;  and  in 
some  places  his  revival  was  celebrated  on  the  following  day' 
(GB2  ii.  116). 

Concerning  the  Egyptian  deity  Osiris  he  says  :  '  Of  the  annual 
rites  with  which  his  death  and  burial  were  celebrated  in  the 
month  Athyr  we  unfortunately  know  very  little.  The  mourn- 
ing lasted  five  days,  from  the  eighth  to  the  twelfth  of  the  month 
Athyr.  The  ceremonies  began  with  the  "earth-ploughing,"  that 
is,  with  the  opening  of  the  field  labours,  when  the  waters  of  the 
Nile  are  sinking.  The  other  rites  included  the  search  for  the 
mangled  body  of  Osiris,  the  rejoicings  at  its  discovery,  and  its 
solemn  burial.  The  burial  took  place  on  the  11th  of  November, 
and  was  accompanied  by  the  recitation  of  laments  from  the 
liturgical  books '  (i6.  140). 

Again,  of  Dionysus  he  writes:  'The  Cretans  celebrated  a 
biennial  festival  at  which  the  sufferings  and  death  of  Dionysus 
were  represented  in  every  detail '  (ib.  163). 

Other  evidence  obtainable  warrants  the  belief 
that  mimetic  or  symbolic  deicide  occupied  no  small 
place  in  the  ritual  of  long-vanished  religions. 
Such  god-slaughter  was  not  a  mere  amusement,  or 
even  a  gratification  of  the  dramatic  instinct  so 
deeply  implanted  in  human  nature.  It  had  a  far 
more  serious  purpose.  Most  probably  these  annual 
rites  were  performed  in  the  firm  conviction  that 
they  would  further  and  assist  those  great  and  all- 
important  natural  processes  on  which  the  very  life 
of  the  world  depended.  No  doubt,  in  course  of 
time,  many  of  these  customs,  at  least  before  they 
became  mere  superstitions,  would  be  retained  as 
a  means  of  keeping  in  remembrance  that  which 
ought  not  to  be  forgotten.  In  other  words,  they 
would  be  more  distinctly  '  commemorative.'  Such 
seems  to  have  been  the  case  with  some  very  strik- 
ing ceremonies  observed  by  the  ancient  Mexicans, 
in  which  it  was  the  custom  to  make  paste  or  dough 
images  of  certain  of  their  gods.  These  images 
were  then  '  killed  '  and  broken  in  pieces  to  furnish 
material  for  a  sacrificial  meal.  It  is  a  curious 
circumstance  that  portions  of  this  consecrated  food 
were  reserved  for  the  sick,  and  carried  to  them 
'  with  great  reverence  and  veneration.' 

Concerning  such  customs  as  these,  many  ques- 
tions arise  which  it  is  not  easy  as  yet  to  answer. 
Even  the  conclusions  already  arrived  at  are  by  no 
means  so  established  as  to  be  accepted  without 
reserve.  The  evidence,  after  all,  is  so  scanty  and 
elusive  that  one  is  compelled  to  a  resolute  distrust 
of  one's  own  judgment,  and  to  reliance  rather  on 
the  sagacity  of  those  skilled  in  such  investigations, 
reserving  to  oneself  the  right  of  giving  a  casting 
vote  in  cases  where  the  evidence  for  and  against 
a  certain  view  seems  evenly  balanced.     Yet,  not- 


DEIFICATION  (Greek  and  Roman) 


525 


withstanding  all  this,  no  part  of  the  great  study  of 
religions  is  fuller  of  suggestion  than  this,  more 
especially  in  the  strange  parallels  noticeable 
between  pagan  and  Christian  thought  and  ritual. 
It  is  only  necessary  to  name  such  themes  as  '  In- 
carnation,' 'Crucifixion,'  'Sacrifice,'  'Eucharist,' 
etc.,  to  show  this.  What  influence  the  recognition 
of  such  analogies  may  have,  in  the  future,  on 
Christian  speculation  it  is  impossible  to  say. 

Literature. — F.  B.  Jevons,  Introd.  to  the  Hist,  of  Religion*, 
London,  1908;  W.  R.  Smith,  Reliqion  of  the  Semites'2  (passim), 
Edinburgh,  1894  ;  J.  G.  Frazer,  the  Golden  Bough  2  (passim), 
London,  1900;  E.  B.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture*  (closing  chap- 
ter), Loudon,  1903.  T.  STENNEE  MACEY. 

DEIFICATION  (Greek  and  Roman).— I.  The 
Greeks. — The  deification  of  actual  men  and  women 
among  the  Greeks  is  a  natural  development  of  that 
view  of  the  gods  which  their  early  literary  docu- 
ments show  already  prevalent.  The  Greek  was 
not  satisfied  to  leave  the  superhuman  beings  whose 
presence  he  divined  in  the  operations  of  Nature,  and 
whose  legends  he  learnt  as  a  child,  in  a  mystical 
haze,  as  vast  powers  of  shadowy  and  uncertain 
outlines ;  his  mind  loved  the  light  of  day ;  he 
early  wanted  to  know  exactly  what  these  beings 
looked  like,  what  definite  things  they  had  done, 
in  what  relations  of  kinship  they  stood  to  each 
other  and  himself.  Hence  it  was  that  the  gods  of 
the  Greek  came  to  be  anthropomorphic  in  a  peculiar 
sense.  He  conceived  them  as  really  like  men  ;  they 
had  actually  trodden  the  hills  and  fields  familiar 
to  himself  :  the  Athenian  could  look  at  the  very 
mark  which  the  trident  of  Poseidon  had  left  upon 
the  rocks  of  the  Acropolis  ;  the  Spartan  knew  from 
a  child  the  grave  of  Hyacinthus,  whom  Apollo  had 
slain  with  the  discus. 

'From  one  origin  are  begotten  gods  and  mortal  men,'  says  a 
line  attributed  to  Hesiod  (Works  and  Days,  108);  and  Pindar 
echoes  it  in  the  opening  of  Nem.  vi.  :  '  There  is  one  self-same 
race  of  men  and  gods ;  and  from  one  single  Mother  have  we 
both  the  breath  of  life ;  only  faculties  altogether  diverse  dis- 
tinguish us ;  since  man  is  a  thing  of  nought,  and  those  have 
brazen  heaven  for  a  sure  abiding  home.  And  yet  we  have  some 
likeness,  either  by  greatness  of  soul  or  by  fashion  of  body,  to  the 
Deathless  Onea.' 

Yet  more,  the  gods  had  begotten  human  children 
in  intercourse  with  men ;  the  families  of  the  legend- 
ary chieftains,  and  such  families  of  a  later  day  as 
could  make  out  a  descent  from  the  heroes  of  legend, 
were  literally  and  physically  their  issue.  The 
ancient  heroes,  as  Homer  tells  us  by  a  number  of 
recurring  epithets,  were  very  much  like  gods  to 
look  at.  And  not  only  could  the  Divine  thus  come 
to  earth,  but  the  legends  knew  of  men  becoming 
gods  (Eur.  Andr.  1255,  etc.). 

Especially  is  the  boundary -line  between  the  wor- 
ship of  the  dead  and  that  of  the  gods  hard  to  draw, 
for  the  rites  offered  generally  to  the  dead  implied 
the  belief  that  the  deceased  had  some  power  of 
action  in  the  living  world  ;  only  the  scope  of  such 
power  was  greater  in  the  case  of  those  worshipped 
as  heroes,  whilst  the  distinction,  again,  between 
the  rites  proper  to  heroes  and  to  gods  respectively 
tended  in  practice  to  become  blurred  (Deneken, 
col.  2526,  note).  A  difference  was,  indeed,  recog- 
nized in  common  parlance  between  the  ordinary 
attention  to  the  dead,  '  heroic '  honours,  and 
divine  honours  (see  Arr.  iv.  11.  3) ;  but,  when  we 
try  to  draw  a  hard-and-fast  line,  the  difference 
appears  rather  one  of  degree. 

The  mass  of  the  heroes  worshipped  by  the  Greeks  were 
mythical  figures  imagined  in  a  remote  past,  especially  the 
legendary  founders  of  cities,  the  eponymous  ancestors  of  clans, 
or  the  patrons  of  particular  professions.  How  some  cases 
occurred  in  which  actual  men  were  assimilated  after  their 
death  to  these  heroes  of  the  fabulous  past  we  cannot  say,  but 
it  seems  to  have  happened  early  in  certain  parts  of  the  Greek 
world  (esp.  Thrace  and  Sicily)  that  the  founders  of  new  cities 
reoeived  the  same  honours  which  the  older  cities  gave  to  their 
legendary  heroes  (Timesius  in  the  7th  cent.  B.C.  [Hdt.  i.  168] ; 
Miltiades  in  the  6th  cent.  [Hdt.  vi.  38] ;  Gelon,  Theron,  and 
Hiero  in  the  5th  cent.  [Diod.  xi.  38,  53,  66] ;  Hagnon  and  Brasidas 
in  the  same  century  [Thuc.  v.  11]) ;  or  that  the  spirits  of  those 


who  had  been  violently  slain  under  circumstances  which  made 
some  community  dread  their  vengeance  were  placated  with 
'  heroic '  honours  (Philip  of  Croton  in  the  6th  cent.  (Hdt.  v.  47] ; 
Onesilus,  king  of  Salamis,  in  the  5th  cent.  [Hdt.  v.  114]). 

It  was  thus  natural  that,  when  the  emotions  of 
reverence  or  gratitude  entertained  with  regard  to 
some  actual  man  were  raised  to  a  high  degree,  they 
should  be  felt  as  almost  identical  with  those  which 
had  the  gods  for  their  object  {Icon  yip  ae  0e<f  Tlaowriv 
'Axaioi  [Horn.  II.  ix.  603]  ;  Oebs  5'  <ls  rlero  drj/jup  [ib. 
v.  78,  etc.]).  In  a  moment  of  exaltation  it  might 
even  seem  proper  to  express  such  feelings  in  the 
same  ritual  performances  as  those  used  for  the 
gods.  *S2  iraldes,  '  Apyeioiati'  eD^eo-flat  xpe^v>  dtiuv  re 
~kei(3eiv  6'  ws  deots  '0\vp.irlois  o-irovSis,  exclaims  the 
Danaus  of  jEschylus  (Supp.  980  ff. ).  Such  language 
was,  of  course,  a  rhetorical  exaggeration ;  but,  when 
the  notion,  even  as  an  extravagance,  was  present 
to  the  mind,  it  was  a  short  step,  in  days  when  the 
old  awe  of  the  gods  had  declined  and  novel  dramatic 
expression  was  craved  for,  to  translate  it  into  action. 
According  to  Duris,  the  first  instance  of  the  for- 
malities of  religious  worship  being  addressed  to  a 
living  man  was  when  Lysander,  at  the  end  of  the 
5th  cent.,  became  the  object  of  a  cult  in  Samos  ; 
altars,  sacrifices,  pajans,  and  games  are  specified  as 
its  constituents  (Plut.  Lys.  18).  The  case  did  not 
remain  isolated.  In  Thasos,  soon  after,  it  was 
taken  for  granted  that  the  State  might  confer 
divine  honours  on  whom  it  pleased ;  but  the  fact 
that  this  new  development  was  reprobated  in  quar- 
ters where  old-fashioned  piety  still  existed  is  shown 
by  the  answer  of  Agesilaus  when  the  Thasians  in- 
formed him  that  they  were  building  him  temples 
(Plut.  Apophth.  Lac.  Ages.  25).  When  Dion  en- 
tered Syracuse  in  357,  he  was  received  as  a  god,  with 
sacrifices,  libations,  and  prayers  (Plut.  Dion,  29). 
Clearchus,  the  tyrant  of  Heraelea,  adopted  the 
insignia  of  the  Olympian  gods,  and  compelled 
his  subjects  to  approach  him  with  prostrations 
(Suid.  s.v.  ~K\to.px°s), 

To  understand  the  state  of  mind  which  led  to 
such  practices,  we  must  remember  the  movement 
of  Greek  thought  which  had  taken  place  since  the 
days  of  ^Eschylus.  The  religious  scepticism  which 
was  abroad  had,  no  doubt,  for  many  minds  emptied 
the  traditional  forms  of  worship  of  their  content 
of  awe  and  devotion,  and  in  proportion  as  they 
had  become  mere  formalities  there  was  less  re- 
straint from  offering  them  to  men.  So  far  as  the 
old  gods  remained  as  figures  for  the  imagination, 
anthropomorphism  had  gone  a  step  further,  as 
may  be  seen  in  the  contrast  of  Praxiteles  with 
Phidias.  Scepticism  had  in  fact  brought  anthro- 
pomorphism to  its  ultimate  conclusion  by  asserting 
roundly  that  the  gods  were  men,  as  was  done  by 
the  popular  Euhemerism.  The  gods,  according  to 
this  theory,  were  kings  and  great  men  of  old,  who 
had  come  to  be  worshipped  after  their  death  in 
gratitude  for  the  benefits  they  had  conferred  (see 
Euhemerism).  On  this  view,  there  was  nothing 
monstrous  in  using  the  same  forms  to  express 
gratitude  to  a  living  benefactor.  In  so  far  as  the 
worship  of  living  men  arose  from  these  conditions, 
it  was  a  product,  not  of  superstition,  but  of  ration- 
alism. It  shows,  not  how  exalted  an  idea  was  held 
of  the  object  of  worship,  but  how  depreciated  in 
meaning  the  forms  of  worship  had  become.  If 
this  is  so,  Frazer  (Early  Hist,  of  Kingship,  1905, 
p.  137)  errs  in  confusing  it  with  primitive  super- 
stition, of  which  it  is  really  the  antithesis.  At 
the  same  time,  the  development  of  religious  feeling, 
which  revolted  against  the  traditional  anthropo- 
morphism, was  not  altogether  unfavourable  to  such 
cults.  The  tendency  to  merge  the  separate  divinities 
in  the  conception  of  One  pervading  Divine  power 
(Schmidt,  Ethik  d.  alt.  Griechen,  1882,  i.  52)  would 
make  it  easier  to  see  manifestations  of  this  power 
in  human  personalities  which  asserted  themselves 


526 


DEIFICATION  (Greek  and  Roman) 


strongly.  A  special  kind  of  deification  was  that 
which  we  find  in  connexion  with  the  mystic  sects 
dispersed  through  the  Greek  communities  and  the 
philosophies  which  borrowed  from  them.  If  death- 
lessness  had  been  all  along  the  distinguishing  char- 
acteristic of  the  gods,  those  who  laid  stress  upon 
the  deathlessness  of  the  individual  soul  thereby 
came  near  to  making  it  divine.  And  so  we  get 
the  idea  that  the  human  soul  is  a  divine  bein» 
imprisoned  for  some  pre-natal  offence  in  the  mortal 
body.  The  notion,  current  among  the  Orphics, 
passed  from  them  to  the  Pythagoreans  (Rohde, 
Psyche4,  ii.  121  f.,  161  f.).  So,  too,  Empedocles  de- 
clared that,  if  a  divine  being  sinned,  he  was  incarnate 
for  punishment  till  he  had  worked  out  his  salvation 
in  a  number  of  successive  lives,  and  was  restored 
to  fellowship  with  the  gods  (frag.  146,  147  [Diels]). 
Empedocles  himself  was  already  reaching  that  con- 
summation, and  claimed  divine  honours :  ^yci  8' 
iipuv  8ebs  &^poro$,  ovk£ti  &vtjt6s,  |  7rwXeO/iat  p-era  iratyi 
TeTLfitvos,  ucnrep  Zoiko.,  |  TaivlaLS  re  Trept&TEirTOS  GT^tpe&Lv 
re  daXelois  (frag.  112  [Diels] ;  cf.  Rohde,  Psyche*,  ii. 
171  f.).  So,  again,  on  the  funeral  tablets  discovered 
at  Thurii,  the  dead  man  declares  to  the  gods  that  he 
is  of  their  kindred,  and  is  saluted  as  one  who  has 
passed  from  mortality  to  deity  :  "0X/3ie  koX  ptaKapurrt, 
deds  5'  ^(Ttj  avrl  fiporoio.  Qeds  iytvov  £%  dvdponrov 
(Michel,  Becueil,  1896-1900,  nos.  1330,  1331  ;  Harri- 
son, Prolegomena  to  Gr.  Belig.^,  1908,  p.  660  ff.). 

If  any  one  had  the  right  to  divine  honours, 
Alexander,  after  feats  of  conquest  to  which  Greek 
story  knew  no  parallel  except  the  mythological 
triumphs  of  Dionysus  and  Herakles,  obviously  had 
a  pre-eminent  claim.  Already  his  father,  Philip, 
had  in  his  own  kingdom  caused  his  own  statue  to 
be  carried  in  processioD,  together  with  those  of  the 
twelve  gods  (Diod.  xvi.  92.  5).  It  is  absurd  to  call 
in  the  influence  of  '  the  East '  to  account  for  what 
followed  so  inevitably  from  the  prevalent  disposi- 
tion of  the  Greek  world.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
the  Achasmenian  kings  were  apparently  not  wor- 
shipped as  gods  ( jEsch.  Pers.  157  is  cited  by  Beurlier 
and  others  to  prove  that  they  were,  but  the  evi- 
dence of  the  native  monuments  is  against  it,  and 
the  Greek  notion  represented  by  ^Eschylus  seems 
to  rest  upon  a  misapprehension  of  the  formality 
of  prostration).  In  Egypt,  indeed,  since  the  New 
Empire,  the  reigning  king  had  been  so  worshipped, 
and  it  was  natural  that  Alexander  should  here  be 
saluted  as  the  son  of  Amen  (Amnion).  But  we 
may  safely  say  that,  even  without  this,  the  Greeks 
would  have  worshipped  him.  The  oracle  of  Didyma 
had  already  in  331  (unless  Strabo  is  right  in  his  scep- 
ticism) declared  Alexander  to  have  been  begotten  by 
Zeus  (Strabo,  xvii.  814).  In  323,  on  Alexander's  re- 
turn from  India,  embassies  arrived  at  Babylon  from 
Greece,  wearing  and  bringing  crowns  such  as  indi- 
cated that  they  were  dewpol,  approaching  a  god 
(Arr.  vii.  23.  2).  There  was  still,  indeed,  in  Greece 
a  party  of  old-fashioned  piety  who  opposed  the 
extravagant  flattery  as  profane.  The  question 
provoked  stormy  debates  in  the  Athenian  assembly. 
The  divine  honours  were  defended  on  the  other  side 
with  flippant  sarcasm  as  a  form  too  empty  to  matter. 
'  By  all  means,'  exclaimed  Demosthenes,  '  let  Alex- 
ander, if  he  wish  it,  be  the  son  of  Zeus  and  Poseidon 
both  together '  (Hyper.  [Blass]i.  31.  17;  cf.  ps.-Plut. 
Fit.  X.  Orat.  vii.  22 ;  Valer.  Max.  vii.  2, 13 ;  Dinarch. 
in  Demosth.  i.  94).  The  expression  shows  that 
Alexander  was  understood  himself  to  demand  such 
honours.  According  to  an  account  preserved  by 
Arrian,  it  was  the  philosopher  Anaxarchus  who 
was  employed  to  propose  divine  honours  to  Alex- 
ander in  the  circle  which  surrounded  the  king's 
person.  The  prostration  which  Alexander  de- 
manded was  regarded  by  the  Greeks  as  an  acknow- 
ledgment of  deity,  and  Anaxarchus  is  represented 
as  defending  Alexander's  deity  on  purely  rational- 


istic euhemeristic  grounds  (Arr.  iv.  10).  Foi 
Hephfestion,  at  any  rate,  Alexander  demanded 
worship  after  his  favourite's  death.  The  worship 
was  '  heroic '  in  kind  ;  Arrian  gives  under  reserve 
the  story  that  Alexander  had  wished  to  make  it 
properly  divine,  but  had  been  forbidden  by  the 
oracle  of  Ammon  (Arr.  vii.  14.  7  ;  but  cf.  Diod. 
xvii.  115). 

If  worship  offered  to  the  living  Alexander  had 
offended  the  more  conservative  Greek  feeling,  wor- 
ship offered  to  the  dead  Alexander  as  a  hero  was 
in  accordance  with  Greek  tradition.  The  forms  of 
worship  chosen  would  show  numberless  local  varia- 
tions which  we  cannot  now  trace.  The  Ionian 
Confederacy  maintained  a  cult  of  Alexander  cen- 
tred in  a  sanctuary  near  Teos  (Strabo,  xiv.  644) 
till  the  days  of  the  Roman  Empire.  Under  the 
Roman  Empire  itself  the  cult  of  Alexander  flour- 
ished (Lamprid.  Alex.  Sev.  5.  1  ;  Herodian,  iv.  8 ; 
Dio  Cass,  lxxvii.  7). 

Naturally,  the  Macedonian  chiefs  who  entered 
upon  Alexander's  inheritance  saw  their  interest  in 
publicly  recognizing  his  divinity.  In  what  forms 
they  severally  did  so  is  not  recorded.  Eumenes 
had  a  '  tent  of  Alexander '  in  his  camp,  with  a 
throne  before  which  the  officers  offered  a  sacrifice  as 
to  a  present  god  (Diod.  xviii.  60,  61  ;  Plut.  Eum. 
13 ;  Polycen.  iv.  8.  2).  The  appearance  of  Alex- 
ander's head,  with  the  horns  or  Ammon,  upon  the 
royal  coinages  is  an  assertion  of  his  assimilation 
to  the  gods. 

Antipater  was  an  exception ;  in  him  the  old 
feeling  which  condemned  these  practices  as  im- 
pious (dcre^s  [Suidas])  still  found  a  representative. 
The  official  worship  of  Alexander  at  Alexandria  as 
god  of  the  city  cannot  be  traced  further  back  than 
Ptolemy  II.,  who  transferred  the  conqueror's  body 
from  Memphis  to  the  new  temple  called  the  Serna 
in  Alexandria.  [It  is  curious  that  Diod.  speaks  of 
the  honours  offered  to  Alexander  in  Alexandria  as 
ijpuiiKal  (xviii.  28.  4).  Probably  the  expression  is 
used  loosely,  because  the  honours  were  offered  to 
a  dead  man.]  Henceforward  the  annual  priest  of 
Alexander,  chosen  from  a  limited  number  of  privi- 
leged families,  was  eponym  for  the  year  till  Roman 
times.  A  golden  crown  and  a  crimson  robe  were 
his  insignia.  The  cult  continued  in  Alexandria  till 
the  institution  of  Christianity  (Otto,  Priester  und 
Tempel  in  hellenist.  Aagypten,  i.  138  f.,  253). 

The  Greeks,  who  had  worshipped  Alexander  in 
his  lifetime,  were  ready  enough  to  give  the  same 
sort  of  worship  to  his  successors.  Craterus,  who 
died  in  321,  was  honoured  at  Delphi  with  a  paean 
(Athen.  xv.  696e).  Scepsis  in  310  voted  the  living 
Antigonus  a  Tfaevos,  altar,  and  image ;  they  had 
already  some  time  previously  instituted  sacrifice, 
games,  and  stephanephoria  in  his  honour  (Ditten- 
berger,  Inscr.  Orient,  i.  6).  In  307  Athens  ex- 
hausted all  forms  of  adoration  in  regard  to  the  same 
two  princes.  They  were  addressed  as  Seol  Gurrqpts ; 
a  regular  priesthood  was  established  for  them ; 
and  changes,  ostensibly  permanent,  were  made 
in  the  calendar  and  religious  organization  of  the 
people.  In  290,  a  hymn,  which  has  been  preserved, 
was  composed  for  the  reception  of  Demetrius.  In 
it  Demetrius  is  hailed  as  the  son  of  Poseidon  and 
Aphrodite  ;  he  and  Demeter  are  the  '  greatest  and 
friendliest  of  the  gods,'  and  so  on  (Diod.  xx.  46  ; 
Plut.  Dem.  10  f .  ;  Athen.  vi.  253,  xv.  697a).  It  is 
important  to  observe  that  the  really  religious  people 
still  protested  against  these  perversions,  and  saw 
in  the  failure  of  the  vintage  a  judgment  of  the 
true  gods  (Philippides,  ap.  Plut.  Dem.  12).  The 
first  Greek  State  to  offer  divine  honours  to  Ptolemy 
was  apparently  the  Confederation  of  the  Cyclades 
(reTifj.vKbo'Lfj.  irpoi[rois  r]bv  awrrjpa.  HroXe/xcuov  laodeoLS 
-rictus  [Ditt.  Syll."  i.  202]) ;  Rhodes  in  304,  or  soon 
after,  conferred  upon  him  the  divine  surname  of 


DEIFICATION  (Greek  and  Roman) 


527 


■  Saviour,'  and  dedicated  to  him  a  ri/xevos  and  festi- 
val (Diod.  xx.  100.  3  f.  ;  Paus.  i.  8.  6  ;  cf.  llroXe/ialov 
tov  StiiTTJpos  Kal  deov  [Ditt.  Inscr.  Orient,  i.  16]) ;  and 
Lysimachus  was  worshipped  with  altar  and  sacri- 
6ce  at  Priene  (Inscr.  of  the  Brit.  Mus.  cccci.)  and 
in  Samothrace  (Ditt.  Syll.2  i.  190).  Seleucus,  after 
his  conquest  of  Asia  Minor  (281),  had  an  altar  built 
to  him  by  Ilion,  and  games  were  instituted  to  him 
like  those  held  in  honour  of  Apollo  (Hirschfeld  in 
Archaol.  Zeitschr.  xxxii.  [1875]  155 ;  Haussoullier 
in  Rev.  de  Philol.  xxiv.  [1900]  319).  Both  Seleucus 
and  his  son  Antiochus  were  worshipped  by  the 
Athenian  colonists  in  Lemnos(Phylarch.  ap.  Athen. 
vi.  254).  Especially  where  a  chief  had  founded  or 
re-founded  a  city,  he  had  the  founder's  prerogative 
of  worship  :  so  Cassander  at  Cassandrea  (Ditt.  Syll.2 
i.  178),  Demetrius  at  Sicyon  (Diod.-  xx.  102  f.),  and 
Ptolemy  at  Ptolemai's  (Otto,  Priester  u.  Tempel, 
i.  160). 

It  is  probable  that  all  through  the  epoch  when 
the  dynasties  of  Seleucus  and  Ptolemy  ruled  in 
Asia  and  Egypt  respectively,  the  Greek  cities 
which  were  subject  to  them,  and  some  which  were 
merely  allied,  expressed  their  loyalty  in  a  cult. 
Our  evidence  is,  of  course,  fragmentary. 

We  find  at  Ilion  a  priest  of  Antiochus  I.  soon  after  his  acces- 
sion (Ditt.  Inscr.  Orient,  i.  219) ;  and  cults  of  the  same  king 
celebrated  by  Bargylia  after  his  death,  and  by  the  Ionian  Con- 
federacy during  his  lifetime  (repeif)?,  altar,  image,  sacrifice, 
games,  stephanephoria  [Michel,  486]).  At  Erythrae,  games 
called  SeAevweia  are  mentioned,  and  Sw-njpia  at  Mylasa  (Michel, 
252, 502).  At  Didyma,  Antiochus  I.  and  his  wife  Stratonike  seem 
to  have  been  worshipped  after  their  death  as  0eol  <ra>Tr/pe?  (CIG 
2852  ;  cf.  Haussoullier,  Hist,  de  Milet,  1902,  p.  61).  Smyrna  insti- 
tuted a  special  worship  of  Stratonike  as  Aphrodite  Stratonikis, 
in  which  her  son  Antiochus  II.  was  associated  with  her  (Ditt. 
Inscr.  Orient.  i.  229  :  Tac.  Ann.  iii.  63).  Similarly,  in  the  case 
of  the  Ptolemies,  we  find  HToAep-aeta  celebrated  at  Athens,  where 
Ptolemy  I.  was  chosen  as  the  eponymous  hero  of  a  tribe  (Paus. 
i.  6.  6  ;  CIA  ii.  444.  32,  etc.),  in  Lesbos  (Ditt.  Inscr.  Orient,  i. 
360),  and  by  the  Confederation  of  the  Cyclades  (Delamaire,  Rev. 
de  Philol.  xx.  [1896]  103  f .).  Halicarnassus  dedicated  a  stoa  to 
Apollo  and  king  Ptolemy  (Ditt.  Inscr.  Orient,  i.  46).  The 
Antigonid  dynasty  which  inherited  Macedonia  was  honoured 
by  'Avrtvoveto,  which  are  found  at  Delos  (BCH  vi.  143),  in 
Eubcea  (ib.  x.  102  f.),  and,  after  223,  among  the  Acheeans 
(Plut.  Arat.  45,  etc. ;  cf.  Niese,  ii.  338).  Attalus  of  Pergamum 
became  in  200  B.C.  the  eponym  of  an  Athenian  tribe,  and  his 
wife  Apollonis  the  eponym  of  a  deme ;  a  special  priest  was 
attached  to  his  service  (Polyb.  xvi.  25  ;  CIA  ii.  1670,  465,  469). 
Sicyon  in  198-7  instituted  a  festival  in  honour  of  Attalus  I. 
(Polyb.  xviii.  16) ;  Cos  a  irofnrri  to  Eumenes  II.  (Ditt.  Syll.2  ii.  619). 
As  a  matter  of  course,  the  cities  actually  subject  to  the  Attalids 
maintained  some  such  worship  (Oyzicus  [temple  of  Apollonis], 
Anth.  Pal.,  bk.  iii.;  Sestos  [priest,  birthday  festival],  Ditt. 
Inscr.  Or.  339 ;  Elaea  [Attalos  o-vvvaos  with  Asklepios,  priest, 
daily  sacrifice],  Ditt.  Inscr.  Or.  332 ;  Ilion  [tribe  'AttoAi's],  CIG 
3616 ;  Sardis  [Eumeneia],  Ditt.  Inscr.  Or.  305 ;  Ionian  Con- 
federation, Arch.  Anzeig..  1904,  p.  9 ;  Nacrasa  [pWi'Xeta],  Ditt. 
Inscr.  Or.  268 ;  Eumenia  [<£>iAa5e'A<peia],  coins ;  Aphrodisias 
['ATTaAem],  coins;  Teos  [priest  of  Eumenes  and  deceased 
Apollonis,  priestess  of  Stratonike  and  Apollonis,  temple  of 
Apollonis  *A7ropVT7ipta],  Ditt.  Inscr.  Or.  309  ;  Hierapolis  [deifica- 
tion of  Apollonis],  Ditt.  Inscr.  Or.  308 ;  Macvnesia-on-Meander 
[tribe  'AttoAi's],  Ditt.  Syll.-  ii.  563 ;  and  ^Egina  ['ATTaAeta,  Eir- 
liima],  Ditt.  Inscr.  Or.  329). 

All  these  cults  are  instituted  by  cities,  ostensibly 
by  their  own  act,  as  separate  communities ;  the 
cult  of  one  city  diners  in  its  forms  from  that  of 
another.  They  are  to  be  distinguished  therefore 
from  cults  instituted  by  the  kings  themselves  for 
the  realm.  The  first  cult  of  the  latter  sort  we 
know  of  is  that  instituted  for  the  first  Ptolemy,  as 
0eds  o-oiT-qp,  after  his  death  (282-3),  by  his  son 
Ptolemy  II.  (Ditt.  Syll.2  i.  202).  With  his  father 
Ptolemy  II.  associated  his  mother  Berenice  on  her 
death  (soon  after  279),  the  two  being^  worshipped 
together  as  Beol  awTijpes.  '  First  of  all  men,  dead 
or  living,'  says  Theocritus,  'this  man  established 
temples  fragrant  with  incense  to  his  mother  and 
his  sire'  (xvii.  121).  When  the  sister- wife  of 
Ptolemy  II.,  Arsinoe  Philadelphus,  died  in  270-1, 
she  too  was  deified.  And  now  a  further  step  was 
taken.  Ptolemy  II.  had  himself  put  on  a  level  with 
his  sister  ;  the  living  king  and  the  dead  queen  were 
worshipped  together  as  Beol  ade\<j>ol.  This  cult  was 
combined  with  that  of  Alexander,  a  single  priest 


serving  the  group  of  divinities ;  the  cult  of  the 
8eol  (rurfjoes  remained  for  the  time  distinct.  When 
Ptolemy  II.  was  succeeded  by  Ptolemy  III.  Euer- 
getes,  the  Beol  eiepyirai  (i.e.  Euergetes  and  his  wife 
Berenice  II.)  were  added  to  Alexander  and  the  Beol 
dSeXrpol,  and  so  on  with  the  other  kings  till  the  end 
of  the  Ptolemaic  dynasty.  Under  Ptolemy  IV. 
Philopator  (between  220  and  215)  the  cult  of  the 
Beol  o-urrrjpes  ceased  to  be  distinct ;  their  name  now 
appears  in  the  official  registers  after  that  of  Alex- 
ander. The  seat  of  this  official  cult  seems  to  have 
been  the  Sema  of  Alexander,  to  which  a  IlroXe- 
lxaa.ov  (a  mausoleum  of  the  Ptolemies)  was  joined 
(Otto,  Priester  und  Tempel,  i.  139).  Some  of  the 
Ptolemaic  queens  had  priestesses  of  their  own — 
Arsinoe  Philadelphus  a  Kavn<pbpos,  Berenice  II.  an 
dflXocWpos,  Arsinoe,  sister- wife  of  Ptolemy  IV.,  a 
ttpeia,  and  Cleopatra  III.  (daughter  of  Ptolemy 
Philometor,  wife  of  Ptolemy  Euergetes  II.)  a  variety 
of  ministers,  a  o-Tetpavnfpbpos,  a  irvpofybpos,  a  ttpeia, 
and  a  male  priest  styled  lepos  7rwXos  (Otto,  p.  158, 
cf.  p.  411).  The  priestesses  of  the  queens  may 
have  performed  their  rites  at  separate  shrines  in 
Alexandria.  Distinct,  of  course,  from  this  system 
of  Greek  worship  was  the  worship  given  by  the 
Egyptians,  on  the  lines  of  their  national  tradition, 
to  their  foreign  kings  and  queens ;  though  the 
influence  of  the  Egyptian  forms  of  worship  upon 
the  Greek  may  be  seen,  e.g.  in  the  king  himself 
becoming,  on  occasion,  priest  of  his  own  deity  in 
Alexandria  (Otto,  p.  182,  note  6).  Cyprus,  a 
Ptolemaic  dependency,  had  a  high  priest  (dpx'epevs 
ttjs  v-qaov  or  twv  Kara  rijv  vr\aov  lepuv)  of  its  own, 
in  whom  we  may  see  the  president  of  the  pro- 
vincial cult  of  the  kings  (Strack,  Dynastie  der 
Ptolemaer,  no.  76,  etc.). 

In  the  Seleucid  realm,  when  Seleucus  was  mur- 
dered in  281,  his  son  Antiochus  I.  was  forward  to 
do  as  much  for  his  father  as  Ptolemy  II.  had  just 
done  for  his.  The  tomb  of  the  old  king  at  Seleucia 
was  constituted  a  temple,  a  lS.iKa.r6pei.ov,  and  a  cult 
was  officially  instituted  for  him  as  a  god  ( App.  Syr. 
63).  With  him  each  of  the  following  kings  was  in 
his  turn  associated  ;  one  priest  served  the  founder 
and  his  deified  successors,  and  one  the  reigning 
king  (Ditt.  Inscr.  Orient.  245).  How  soon  it  came 
about  in  the  Seleucid  realm  that  the  living  sove- 
reign was  the  object  of  worship  instituted  try  the 
court  we  do  not  know.  The  important  inscrip- 
tion which  gives  us  a  rescript  of  Antiochus  II. 
(261-246  B.C.)  (Ditt.  Inscr.  Orient.  224)  shows  us 
such  already  existing.  It  is  a  worship  of  the  king 
organized  by  provinces,  each  province  having  a 
high  priest.  The  rescript  is  issued  in  order  to 
associate  the  queen  Laodike  in  the  cult,  insti- 
tuting provincial  high  priests  for  her,  side  by  side 
with  those  of  the  king.  Incidental  mention  of 
provincial  high  priests  in  later  reigns  shows  us 
the  system  still  in  continuance  (Michel,  1229),  and 
they  present  an  obvious  parallel  to  the  high  priests 
of  Cyprus  in  the  Ptolemaic  realm. 

Although  a  difference  is  rightly  insisted  upon 
between  the  cults  instituted  by  the  central  govern- 
ment and  those  offered  by  the  Greek  communities 
as  independent  agents,  the  dividing  line  between 
the  two  is  not  easy  to  draw.  This  is  due  to  the 
ambiguous  position  of  the  Hellenistic  kings,  who 
wished,  while  retaining  Greek  cities  under  their 
control,  to  leave  them  the  semblance  of  autonomy. 
Cults  offered  ostensibly  by  a  city  spontaneously 
might  be  framed  at  a  suggestion  from  the  court 
which  it  was  impossible  to  disobey.  In  what 
class,  for  instance,  are  we  to  put  the  cults  offered 
to  the  Ptolemaic  kings  at  Ptolemai's,  to  the 
Seleucid  kings  at  Seleucia,  to  the  Attalids  at 
Pergamum  ?  All  these  cities  had  the  forms  oi 
municipal  autonomy,  but  were  entirely  subject 
to  royal  dictation.      The   nucleus  of  the  cult  at 


528 


DEIFICATION  (Greek  and  Roman) 


Ptolemai's  is  that  of  the  founder  Ptolemy  I.  Soter, 
and  to  him  the  later  kings  (at  any  rate  after  the 
$eol  tpiXoirdropes)  heeome  attached.  The  cult  of 
Seleucia  founded  under  Antiochus  I.  we  have 
already  mentioned.  At  Pergamum  a  sheep  was 
sacrificed  by  the  civic  authorities  to  Eumenes  I., 
that  is  to  say,  even  before  the  rulers  of  Pergamum 
had  acquired  the  title  of  kings  (Ditt.  Inscr.  Orient. 
267).  An  inscription  of  the  time  of  the  last  king 
of  Pergamum,  Attalus  III.,  shows  us  sacrifices 
offered  to  the  founder  Attalus  II.,  his  brother 
Philetserus,  and  the  reigning  king  (Mitt.  Ath., 
1904,  p.  152). 

In  connexion  with  the  assumption  of  deity  by 
the  kings  themselves,  we  must  reckon  the  appear- 
ance of  their  effigy  on  coinages  struck  by  royal 
authority.  The  official  surnames,  again,  which 
they  bear  have  been  thought  to  have  religious 
significance.  This  is  difficult  to  prove,  because 
the  king  would  naturally  be  addressed  in  worship 
by  his  full  titles,  and  if,  therefore,  we  find  the 
surname  used  in  the  cult,  it  would  not  neces- 
sarily show  a  religious  origin.  In  favour  of  the 
hypothesis  are:  (1)  the  fact  that  some  of  the 
surnames,  e.g.  aariip,  4irt.<pavi)s,  have  undoubted 
religious  associations ;  and  (2)  the  practice  of 
the  Greeks  of  attaching  surnames  to  the  names  of 
deities — Athene  Promachos,  Zeus  Meilichios,  etc.  ; 
cf.  also  the  title  of  eiepyiTijs  conferred  on  Diogenes 
(see  below). 

The  title  of  0e6s  does  not  seem  usually  to  have 
been  assumed  by  kings  during  their  lifetime.  For 
the  Greeks  of  Egypt,  as  we  have  seen,  their  living 
king  was  a  god  from  the  time  when  Ptolemy  II. 
associated  himself  with  his  dead  and  deified  sister. 
But,  whilst  the  living  king  and  queen  were,  after 
Ptolemy  II.,  regularly  worshipped  together  as  ffeol 
etiepyirai,  &eol  ipiXoirdropes,  etc.,  the  kings  do  not 
seem  to  have  had  themselves  called  0e6s  in  the 
protocol  of  State  documents  till  the  time  of 
Euergetes  II.  (Strack,  Dynastie  der  Ptolemaer, 
p.  120).  In  the  Seleucid  dynasty  also  it  is  to  be 
noted  that  Antiochus  IV.  Epiphanes  is  the  first 
king  under  whom  0e6s  is  attached  to  the  royal 
name  upon  the  coinage,  and  Antiochus  is  exactly 
the  king  who  seems  to  have  put  his  deity  promi- 
nently forward  (cf.  Bevan,  House  of  Seleucus,  1902, 
ii.  154).  The  usage  of  the  Pergamene  kingdom 
appears  also  to  have  confined  the  title  of  8e6s  to 
deceased  sovereigns.  A  king  or  queen  at  death 
seems  to  have  been  officially  declared  to  have 
joined  the  number  of  the  gods  (Cardinali,  '  Regno 
di  Pergamo,'  p.  153,  note  4).  This  did  not  ex- 
clude the  offering  of  rites  of  sacrifice,  etc.,  to  the 
living  sovereign.  Whether,  in  the  case  of  acts 
which  were  understood  to  be  ceremonial  flattery, 
any  attempt  was  made  to  reconcile  the  incon- 
sistency of  worshipping  some  one  whose  apotheosis 
was  still  future  we  do  not  know. 

It  remains  to  consider  the  relations  to  the  older 
gods  in  which  these  cults  in  theory  placed  the  men 
worshipped.     These  were  of  three  kinds. 

(1)  Descent. — Those  Greek  families  which  pro- 
fessed to  trace  back  their  family  tree  to  heroic 
times  had,  of  course,  no  difficulty  in  making  out 
their  descent  from  some  god.  It  can  hardly, 
therefore,  have  been  the  peculiar  prerogative  of 
the  royal  dynasties  in  Hellenistic  times  to  possess 
this  sort  of  link  with  divinity.  They  seem,  never- 
theless, to  have  thought  it  worth  while  to  empha- 
size the  divine  origin  of  their  families.  So  we  find 
that  the  family  of  Ptolemy  at  the  Egyptian  court 
was  traced  back  to  Herakles  and  Dionysos,  the 
latter  deity  after  the  reign  of  Philopator  being 
given  prominence  over  the  former.  Possibly  the 
family  of  the  Seleucids  claimed  descent  in  the 
same  way  from  Apollo.  The  Attalids,  like  the 
Ptolemies,  apparently  took  Herakles  and  Dionysos 


for  the  founders  of  their  race  (Cardinali,  op.  cit. 
147). 

(2)  Immediate  sonship. — Dignity  of  family  was 
not  enough.  If  possible,  the  person  worshipped 
had  to  be  himself  the  offspring  of  a  god.  Already, 
in  the  times  before  Alexander,  this  was  asserted 
at  the  Syracusan  court  of  Dionysius  (Plut.  de 
Alex.  virt.  ii.  5).  Alexander  claimed  that  his 
mother  had  conceived  him  of  Zeus  Ammon.  The 
real  father  of  Seleucus,  it  was  asserted  at  the 
Seleucid  court,  was  Apollo  (Just.  xv.  4).  Apollo 
was  ipxvybs  rou  y^kous  (CIO  3595). 1  So,  too,  we  saw 
that  the  Athenians  in  308  hailed  Demetrius  as  the 
son  of  Poseidon  and  Aphrodite. 

(3)  Identification. — For  this,  again,  we  have 
a  precedent  before  Alexander  in  Clearchus  of 
Heraclea  (FUG  iii.  526).  The  first  instance  we 
can  trace  after  Alexander  is  that  of  Seleucus,  who 
was  worshipped  at  Seleucia  as  Zeus  Nicator.  His 
son  at  the  same  place  was  Antiochus  Apollo  Soter 
(Ditt.  Inscr.  Or.  i.  245).  In  Egypt,  Arsinoe  at  her 
apotheosis  was  identified  with  Aphrodite  (Strabo, 
xvii.  800 ;  Athen.  vii.  318c?,  xi.  497c?),  and  so  was 
Stratonike  I.  at  Smyrna.  Antiochus  Epiphanes 
probably  identified  himself  with  Zeus  (JHS  xx. 
[1900]  26  ff.).  The  surname  vios  At6i>utros  was  borne 
by  Antiochus  VI.  (145-143  B.C.)  and  Antiochus  XII. 
(86-85  B.C.)  in  Syria;  and  by  Ptolemy  Auletes 
(81-52  B.C.)  in  Egypt.  Cleopatra  VII.  was  styled 
via^leis  (Strack),  and  the  last  Cleopatra  also  bore 
the  same  title,  and  appeared  in  public  arrayed  as 
the  goddess  (Plut.  Ant.  54). 

The  Greeks  had  no  idea  of  any  divinity  in  king- 
ship per  se.  The  proffer  of  divine  honours  in  the 
4th  cent.  B.C.  was  the  recognition  simply  of  a 
personality  mighty  to  impress  and  modify  the 
world.  The  Greeks,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  who 
approached  Alexander  with  worship  did  not  regard 
him  as  their  king  (he  was  king  of  the  Macedonians 
and  Persians).  Naturally  the  Macedonian  chiefs 
who  made  themselves  kings  after  Alexander  at- 
tained thereby  a  position  which  gave  them  pre- 
eminent power  upon  the  world,  and  the  proffer 
of  divine  honours  expressed  a  desire  to  secure 
their  good-will  and  protection.  We  have  here 
further  evidence  that  it  is  a  mistaken  track  to 
assimilate  the  Greek  worship  of  kings  with  a 
worship  of  the  king  as  such,  like  that  which  had 
existed  recently  in  Egypt  and,  centuries  before, 
in  Babylonia.  Naturally,  too,  when  the  new 
kingdoms  had  developed  settled  institutions,  the 
courts  found  in  the  cult  of  the  sovereigns  a  useful 
means  of  imposing  upon  the  popular  imagination 
and  securing  an  expression  of  loyalty.  And,  as 
Kaerst  has  pointed  out,  it  was  not  easy  to  find  a 
formal  expression  for  dominion  over  a  number  of 
Greek  States  which  were,  by  Greek  political  theory, 
independent  sovereign  communities.  Over  the 
authorities  of  the  city  had  been,  in  olden  days, 
only  the  gods,  and  the  assumption  of  deity  gave 
a  sort  of  legality  to  the  relation  of  the  king  with 
the  subject  Greek  States.  Antiochus  IV.  turned 
his  deity  to  further  account  by  representing  him- 
self as  the  divine  husband  of  the  goddess  of  a  rich 
temple  like  that  of  Hierapolis,  and  claiming  the 
temple  treasure  in  that  capacity  (Gran.  Licin.  28). 

The  Greek  practice  passed  to  the  new  dynasties 
which  arose  in  the  East.  The  Greek  kings  of 
Bactria,  Agathocles  and  Antimachus  (c.  190-160), 
are  styled  '  god '  upon  the  coins.  The  Arsacid 
kings  of  Parthia,  if,  as  adherents  of  some  form  of 
Zoroastrianism,  they  recognized  only  One  Supreme 
God,  found  no  difficulty  in  giving  the  name  of 
'  god '  to  subordinate  powers,  and  in  classing  them- 

1  Something  of  the  same  sort  Beems  to  be  implied  when  the 
Pergamene  kintr  is  called  Tmipoto  Siorpetpeo?  <pi'Aoe  utoe  (Paus. 
x.  15.  2 ;  cf.  Su'idas,  s.v.  'AttoAos),  i.e.  son  of  the  divine  Bull, 
Dionysos. 


DEIFICATION  (Greek  and  Roman) 


629 


selves  among  the  number.  Here,  too,  on  some  of 
the  coins  the  name  of  the  king  is  accompanied  by 
the  epithet  Scov  or  Seoir&ropos  (Wroth,  Coins  of 
Parthia,  1903,  p.  xxix).  So,  too,  the  Sasanian 
kings  (after  A.D.  224)  continued  to  bear  the  title 
of  9e6s  (Pers.  bag)  ;  but,  whilst  the  Greek  was 
ambiguous,  in  the  native  language  the  distinction 
between  the  lower  divinity  of  the  human  deity 
and  that  of  the  gods  proper  was  made  plain  by 
another  word  (yazdan)  being  reserved  for  these 
last  (Ditt.  Inscr.  Orient,  i.  432,  433).  So  far, 
then,  from  its  being  the  case  that  the  deity  of 
the  human  ruler  was  an  idea  borrowed  by  the 
Greeks  from  the  East,  the  borrowing  was  the 
other  way ;  the  Orientals  took  it  from  the 
Greeks. 

Even  the  minor  dynasties  of  the  East  came  to 
bear  divine  titles.  So  Antiochus  I.  of  Commagene 
describes  himself  as  Seos  in  the  same  breath  with 
which  he  professes  piety  to  be  the  rule  of  his  life, 
on  the  monument  where  his  body  rests  after  his 
soul  has  gone  to  the  '  heavenly  seats  of  Zeus 
Oromasdes.'  The  honours  to  be  paid  to  himself 
and  the  other  kings  are  distinguished,  as  '  heroic ' 
(lines  48,  118,  125),  from  the  cult  of  the  greater 
gods.  His  own  image  is  avvdpovos  with  that  of 
Zeus-Oromasdes,  Mithra,  Artagnes,  and  Com- 
magene (line  60)  (Ditt.  Inscr.  Orient,  i.  383).  The 
Jewish  Herod  Agrippa  I.  received  from  heathens 
the  now  banal  ascription  of  deity  (Ac  1222 ;  Jos. 
Ant.  xix.  8.  2). 

Even  in  the  age  of  the  Hellenistic  kings,  deifica- 
tion was  not  their  peculiar  prerogative.  It  was 
open  to  other  men,  in  their  degree,  to  become 
objects  of  religious  worship.  Sometimes  they 
might  secure  this  by  the  authority  of  the  kings 
themselves.  Antiochus  II.  had  his  favourite 
Pythermus  worshipped  as  Herakles  (Athen.  vii. 
289  f.),  and  Ptolemy  II.  consecrated  his  mistress 
Bilistiche  as  Aphrodite  (Plut.  Amat.  9).  Con- 
secration sometimes  took  place  by  the  authority 
of  a  Greek  State. 

So  Athens  conferred  heroic  honours  after  his  death  upon 
Diogenes,  who  had  commanded  the  Macedonian  garrison  in  the 
Piraeus  (title  of  euep-ve'Tijs,  priest,  t4ilcvos,  games  [CIA  ii.  467, 
24 ;  481,  67 ;  1669]).  Aratus  after  his  death  was  worshipped 
with  heroic  honours  at  Sicyon  ;  and,  as  in  the  case  of  the  deified 
kings,  it  was  asserted  that  his  mother  had  really  conceived  him 
of  a  god  (Polyb.  viii.  14.  7 ;  Plut.  Arat.  63 ;  Paus.  ii.  8.  2,  9. 
4).  Philopcemen  after  his  death  was  worshipped  with  divine 
honours  at  Megalopolis  (altar,  re^eco?,  games  [Plut.  Philop. 
21 ;  Paus.  viii.  61.  2  ;  Diod.  xxix.  18 ;  Liv.  xxxix.  60 ;  Ditt  Syll. 
210}). 

Probably  to  this  age,  and  not  an  earlier,  belongs 
the  consecration  of  the  athletes  of  former  genera- 
tions who  had  brought  glory  to  their  cities,  like 
Theagenes,  who  was  worshipped  as  a  god  at 
Thasos  (Paus.  vi.  11.  2),  Oebotas  of  Dyme  (Paus. 
vi.  3,  vii.  17.  3  and  6),  and  Diognetus  the  Cretan 
(Ptol.  Heph.  ap.  Phot.  Bibl.  p.  151a,  20).  Other 
consecrations  were  the  act  of  gilds  or  associations, 
who  worshipped  their  founders  or  distinguished 
members.  So  we  find  a  gild  of  Dionysiastas 
(2nd  cent.  B.C.)  in  the  Piraeus  'heroizing'  a  certain 
Dionysius  {Situs  itpvpatreel  Aiovinos)  (Mitth.  Ath. 
ix.  [1884]  279  f . ,  288  f . ),  and  something  like  a  heroic 
cult  of  their  founder  was  maintained  in  the  philo- 
sophical schools  created  in  the  form  of  religious 
gilds  by  Plato  and  Epicurus.  In  the  case  of  Plato, 
the  story  of  a  miraculous  birth  was  again  cir- 
culated ;  he  was  the  son  of  Apollo  (Diog.  Laert. 
iii.  1.  2;  Olympiod.  Vit.  Plat.).  So,  too,  Hippo- 
crates seems  to  have  been  worshipped  in  schools 
of  medicine,  not  in  Cos  only,  but  in  the  Greek 
world  generally  (Luc.  Philops.  21).  Sometimes  the 
consecration  took  place  according  to  testamentary 
dispositions,  which  founded  an  association  for  the 
cult  of  the  testator,  as  in  the  case  of  a  family  of 
Tliera,  whose  heroon  is  the  subject  of  the  will  of 
Epicteta  (CIG  2448),  and  in  the  case  of  Epicurus. 
vol.  iv. — 34 


When  the  power  began  to  pass  from  the  hands 
of  kings  to  that  of  Pome,  the  Greeks,  in  trans- 
ferring their  homage,  continued  the  forms  of  re- 
ligious worship.  The  cult  which  replaced  that  of 
the  Hellenistic  kings  was  that  of  the  goddess  Rome. 
Smyrna  was  the  first  Greek  city  to  erect  a  temple 
to  Rome  in  195  B.C.  (Tac.  Ann.  iv.  56),  and  the 
cult  later  became  general.  The  Roman  general 
Titus  Flamininus  a  few  years  later  was  receiving 
divine  honours  in  Greece  (Plut.  Flamininus,  16). 
In  the  last  cent.  B.C.  it  seems  to  have  become  the 
usual  thing  for  Roman  governors  to  be  worshipped 
by  the  provincials  under  their  rule  (Cic.  ad  Q.frat. 
i.  1,  26,  cf.  ad  Att.  v.  21;  Suet.  Aug.  52);  the 
notorious  Verres  in  Sicily  had  games  ( Verria)  cele- 
brated in  honour  of  his  divinity  (Cic.  Verr.,  Orat. 
ii.  2.  21).  Of  the  numerous  temples  erected  to 
Pompey  (t£  vaiots  ftpldovri  ■jroo-r)  aTT&vLS  ^TrXeTo  Ttj/xfiou, 
Anth.  Pal.  ix.  402)  no  material  trace  has  been 
recovered  ;  but  two  inscriptions,  one  from  Ephesus 
and  one  from  the  island  of  Carthaea,  show  the  sort 
of  worship  offered  to  Julius  Caesar  by  the  Greeks 
in  his  day  of  power.  The  first  (CIG  2957)  describes 
him  as  '  God  manifest  and  universal  saviour  of 
humanity';  and  the  second  (CIG  2369),  as  'God 
and  Emperor  and  Saviour  of  the  world.'  But  now 
the  ruling  race  itself  was  prepared  to  follow  the 
Greek  fashion. 

2.  Deification  under  the  Roman  Empire. — For 
the  old  Romans  the  gap  between  gods  and  men 
was  not  bridged  as  it  was  for  the  Greeks.  They 
had  indeed,  like  other  primitive  peoples,  rites  for 
placating  the  spirits  of  the  dead  (di  manes),  but 
such  spirits  did  not  pass  into  gods  proper ;  there 
was  no  intermediate  class  of  heroes.  The  offering 
of  divine  honours  to  living  men  would  have  seemed 
to  them  highly  shocking.  As,  however,  the  Greek 
element  grew  in  Rome,  new  ideas  found  entrance. 
Scipio  Africanus  was  not  worshipped,  but  there 
was  believed  to  be  something  supernatural  about 
him,  and  stories  were  told  of  his  divine  birth  (Liv. 
xxvi.  19).  In  the  last  century  of  the  Republic, 
rites  proper  to  divine  worship  were  offered  to 
Metellus  Pius  (Macrob.  Sat.  iii.  13.  7)  and  Marius 
Gratidianus  (Cic.  Off.  iii.  §  80 ;  Seneca,  de  Ira, 
iii.  18) ;  but  in  the  former  case  by  private  friends, 
members  of  a  Hellenized  aristocracy ;  in  the 
latter,  by  a  semi-Hellenic  populace  ;  in  neither 
case,  with  official  authorization. 

The  note  of  that  Empire  which  Julius  Caesar 
conceived  was  an  assimilation  in  which  the  old 
Roman  tradition  lost  its  prerogative.  Under  his 
rule  the  Roman  people  were  allowed  (Suet.)  or 
encouraged  (Dio)  to  adopt  the  Greek  forms  of 
homage.  The  image  of  Caesar  now  figured  along 
with  those  of  the  gods.  A  month  of  the  year  was 
called  by  his  name.  In  45  B.C.  a  temple  was  even 
founded  to  Juppiter  Julius  and  his  Clementia,  in 
which  M.  Antony  was  to  serve  as  flamen  (Dio  Cass. 
xliv.  6 ;  Suet.  Cms.  76 ;  App.  Bell.  Civ.  ii.  106). 
On  Caesar's  murder  in  44  the  scheme  collapsed 
(Cic.  Phil.  ii.  43) ;  but  in  the  comet  which  appeared 
the  following  year  the  Roman  populace  saw  Caesar's 
spirit  raised  to  heaven  (Plin.  HN  ii.  94  ;  Virg.  Ec. 
ix.  47;  Ov.  Metam.  xv.  843  ff.  etc.).  When  the 
Caesarian  party  triumphed,  the  worship  of  the  dead 
Caesar  was  put  upon  a  regular  footing ;  public  policy 
was  now  shaped  by  the  cautious  spirit  of  his  nephew. 
A  law  passed  by  senate  and  people  set  Divus 
Julius  among  the  gods,  and  a  temple  was  erected 
(42  B.C.)  to  him  on  the  spot  where  his  mangled 
body  had  been  displayed  to  the  people  (Dio  Cass, 
xlvii.  18;  App.  ii.  148;  CIL  i.  626,  ix.  2628). 
There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  divus  had  at 
this  time  acquired  a  meaning  different  from  deus  ; 
it  was  the  precedent  of  the  Caesars  which  limited 
it  to  those  divinities  who  had  once  been  men 
(Mommsen,   Staatsr.   ii.8  756,   note  1  ;   Wissowa. 


530 


DEIFICATION  (Greek  and  Roman) 


p.  285).  In  CIL  x.  3903,  we  find  dei  Caesaris 
alongside  of  divi  Augusti  (cf.  ib.  1271).  So,  too,  we 
find  Kaicrap  6  8e6s  as  the  proper  designation  of  Julius 
Caesar  in  Greek  (Strabo,  viii.  381,  etc.).1  From 
Rome  the  worship  soon  spread  to  other  places. 
An  altar  of  Divus  Julius  is  mentioned  at  Perusia 
in  41  (Dio  Cass,  xlviii.  14 ;  cf.  CIL  i.  697,  698).  In 
the  Western  provinces  the  cult  seems  to  have  been 
maintained  only  in  the  colonies  founded  by  Julius 
Csesar.  Antony  and  Sextus  Pompeius,  who  dis- 
puted with  the  adoptive  son  of  the  divus  the 
empire  of  the  world,  each  advanced  his  own 
claims  to  divinity.  Antony  masqueraded  in  the 
character  of  Dionysos,  and  at  Athens  followed  the 
precedent  of  Antiochus  Epiphanes  by  demanding  a 
dowry  as  the  husband  of  the  city-goddess  (Plut. 
Ant.  24;  Dio  Cass,  xlviii.  39;  Athen.  iv.  148;  M. 
Seneca,  Suas.  i.  6 ;  Veil.  Paterc.  ii.  82 ;  Plin.  HN 
viii.  55).  Sext.  Pompeius  claimed  to  be  the  son 
of  Neptune  (Dio  Cass,  xlviii.  19 ;  App.  v.  100 ; 
Plin.  HN  ix.  55).  When  the  young  Csesar  stood 
forth  supreme  and  brought  to  the  vexed  world  an 
era  of  peace,  the  tide  of  worship  could  not  be 
stayed.  But  the  temper  and  policy  of  the  new 
ruler  inclined  him  rather  to  reduce  such  honours 
to  their  minimum,  and  among  the  Romans  to  bring 
them  into  connexion  with  the  national  tradition 
rather  than  with  foreign  usage.  In  27  B.C.  he 
accepted  from  the  Senate  the  name  of  Augustus, 
which  connoted  sanctity  without  asserting  absolute 
divinity  (Dio  Cass.  liii.  16 ;  Suet.  Aug.  7  ;  Ovid. 
Fasti,  l.  609 ;  Censorinus,  de  Die  Nat.  21.  8).  He 
showed  the  same  moderation  in  the  provinces. 

But  first  three  sorts  of  cults  offered  to  the 
Emperor  must  be  distinguished :  (1)  the  pro- 
vincial cult,  maintained  by  each  province  as  a 
whole  at  one  of  the  provincial  centres ;  (2)  the 
municipal  cults,  maintained  by  the  separate  cities  ; 
(3)  the  private  cults,  maintained  by  individuals 
or  voluntary  associations.  The  first  were  far 
more  completely  controlled  (if  not  instituted)  by 
the  Imperial  Government  ;  and  to  them  alone 
strictly  applies  the  rule  laid  down  by  Augustus, 
that  he  was  not  to  be  worshipped  save  in  associa- 
tion with  the  goddess  Rome.  Asia  and  Bithynia 
were  the  first  provinces  to  be  authorized  to  estab- 
lish a  provincial  cult  of  this  sort ;  and  temples  to 
Rome  and  Augustus  were  reared  at  Pergamum 
and  Nicomedia.  This  permission  did  not  extend 
to  resident  Roman  citizens  ;  they  were  to  worship, 
not  Augustus,  but  Rome  and  Divus  Julius  in 
temples  of  their  own  at  Ephesus  and  Nicaea  (Dio 
Cass.  Ii.  20  ;  cf.  Tac.  Ann.  iv.  37).  In  the  West  the 
first  provincial  cult  seems  to  have  been  instituted 
in  10  B.C.,  when  an  altar  was  consecrated  to  Rome 
and  Augustus  at  Lugdunum  (Lyons)  for  the  pro- 
vince of  the  Three  Gauls.  A  few  years  later  a 
similar  altar  was  consecrated  for  Germania  at 
Oppidum  Ubiorum  (Cologne).  To  the  municipal 
and  private  cults  much  greater  liberty  was  allowed. 
In  ordinary  practice,  however,  the  cities  seem 
under  the  early  Empire  to  have  combined  the 
name  of  Augustus  with  that  of  Rome.  The  cult 
instituted  in  A.D.  11  by  the  colony  of  Narbo  is 
addressed  to  the  numen  of  Augustus  alone  (CIL 
xii.  4333).  Or,  again,  the  municipal  and  private 
cults  might  emphasize  the  Emperor's  deity  by  giv- 
ing him  the  name  and  attributes  of  some  tradi- 
tional god.  In  Egypt  and  Caria,  Augustus  is  Zeus 
Eleutherios  (Kattrap,  TrovrofMiSovri  Kal  aireipuv  Kpartovn 

|  Zavl  tv  iK  Zayfis  Trarpbs  'EXentfepiw,  CIG  4923  ;  cf. 
4715;  BCH  xi.  [l'SS7]  306;  and  the  expression 
'god  of  god,'  i.e.  son  of  Divus  Julius,  in   Ditt. 

1  That  the  Daphnis  who  is  deified  in  Virgil,  Ec.  v.,  represents 
Julius  Csesar  was  suggested  by  the  scholars  of  antiquity  and  is 
commonly  repeated  to-day.  Daphnis  has,  however,  nothing 
but  his  deification  in  common  with  Ceesar ;  and,  since  the 
deification  was  a  part  of  the  old  Sicilian  story,  it  forms  a  very 
slender  ground  for  the  identification. 


Inscr.  Orient.  655) ;  at  Alabanda  in  Caria,  Apollo 
Eleutherios  (CIG  2903/=  Ditt.  Inscr.  Orient,  ii. 
457).  At  Athens  the  temple  begun  by  Pisistratus 
to  Zeus  Olympios  was  consecrated  to  the  genius  of 
Augustus  (Suet.  Aug.  60).  Not  only  Augustus 
himself,  but  other  members  of  the  Imperial  family 
become  objects  of  worship.  Athens  honours  his 
grandson  Gaius  as  vtos'Ap-qs  (CIA  iii.  444) ;  Mity- 
lene,  his  son-in-law  Agrippa  as  debs  aurr-qp  (CIG 
2176) ;  Nyssa  has  a  special  priest  for  his  stepson 
Tiberius  ( CIG  2943).  A  temple  was  consecrated  to 
Octavia  after  her  death  by  Corinth  (Paus.  ii.  3.  1). 
The  first  day  of  each  month  in  Egypt  and  Asia  was 
called  2e/3a<n-?j  (Kaibel,  Inscr.  Grcec.  Sic.  1890,  p. 
701).  Games,  among  the  Greeks  a  form  of  religious 
festivity,  were  everywhere  instituted  in  honour  of 
Augustus  or  members  of  the  Imperial  house 
('Paiyucua  2e/3a0T(£,  KaiedpTja  ' AypiTTTTJa,  Ditt.  Syll.2 
677  ;  Suet.  Aug.  98,  etc.).  Even  king  Herod  built 
temples  and  instituted  games  to  Augustus  and 
Rome  (Jos.  BJ  i.  21,  §§  403  f.).  In  Italy  the 
cult  of  Augustus  seems  to  have  spread  largely 
before  his  death ;  temples  and  priests  (sacerdotes 
in  some  places,  flamines  in  others)  are  found  in 
existence,  at  any  rate,  in  colonies  which  Augustus 
had  founded,  and  in  cities  of  which  he  was  in  some 
way  the  patron  (Beneventum,  Cumae,  Fanum, 
Fortunae,  Pisae ;  see  Beurlier,  Culte  imperial, 
p.  17 ;  Hirschfeld,  p.  838).  It  was  at  Rome  that 
the  worship  was  most  severely  restrained.  The 
Emperor  refused  to  be  saluted  by  his  fellow-citizens 
as  god,  or  to  allow  a  temple  to  him  to  be  erected 
in  the  capital.  But  he  permitted  his  name  to 
be  inserted  in  the  ancient  hymns  of  the  Salii 
(Mommsen,  Bes  gestw  divi  Aug.,  1883,  p.  44),  and 
the  Genius  Augusti  to  be  worshipped  along  with 
the  Lares  of  the  city — i.e.  so  far  as  the  worship 
of  a  living  man  was  admitted,  it  must  put  off  its 
alien  complexion  and  be  screened  by  the  formulas 
of  the  national  religion,  though  here  again  the 
restraint  could  not  extend  to  the  action  of  in- 
dividuals or  the  exuberant  language  of  literature. 

The  poets,  inspired  as  they  were  Dy  Greek  ideals, 
and  using  the  old  mythological  conceptions  without 
any  belief  in  their  literal  truth,  let  their  fancy  run 
free  in  expressing  the  Emperor's  deity  (Virg.  Georg. 
i.  24 f.  ;  Hor.  Oct.  iii.  3.  11  ;  5.  If.,  25.  4ff.,  etc.). 

In  Rome,  too,  men  found  pleasure  in  identifying 
the  Emperor  with  some  particular  one  of  the  old 
gods ;  sometimes  it  was  Apollo  (Suet.  Aug.  70 ; 
Serv.  ad  Eel.  iv.  10) ;  sometimes  it  was  Mercury 
(Hor.  Odes,  i.  2.  41f.) ;  cf.  Reitzenstein,  Foimandres, 
1904,  p.  176  f.);  sometimes  it  was  Juppiter  (Hor. 
Epist.  i.  19.  43  ;  Preller-Jordan,  Bom.  Myth.  ii.  445). 

When  Augustus  died  (A.D.  14),  the  Roman  people 
might  at  last  worship  him  without  restraint. 
After  the  precedent  set  in  the  case  of  Julius  Caesar, 
he  was  declared  a  divus  by  a  decree  of  the  Senate. 
As  the  timely  appearance  of  a  comet  was  not  to  be 
counted  upon,  an  eagle  was  liberated  at  the  funeral, 
to  represent  visibly  the  soul  of  the  Emperor  flying  to 
heaven  ;  and  a  senator  was  found  to  bear  witness  to 
having  seen  the  actual  Emperor  ascend  (Suet.  Aug. 
100).  Tiberius  followed  his  predecessor  in  restrain- 
ing the  divine  honours  offered  to  himself.  It  is 
only  due  to  his  resolution  that  we  do  not  to-day 
say  '  Tibery '  for  September  or  October,  as  we  say 
'  July '  and  '  August '  in  memory  of  the  first  two 
divi.  The  Greeks,  indeed,  were  permitted  as  before 
to  worship  the  living  Emperor,  and  to  consecrate 
temples  to  himself  and  his  mother  Livia,  while 
the  merely  figurative  character  of  the  worship  was 
emphasized  even  more  than  before  by  the  '  God- 
Senate  '  (0eds  avyKhriTos)  taking  the  place  of  the  god- 
dess Rome  in  the  cults  maintained  with  Imperial 
sanction  by  the  provincial  centres  (Tac.  Ann.  iv. 
15).  Municipal  priests  of  Tiberius  are  found  in 
one  or  two   Italian   towns  (Venusia,  Surrentum) 


DEIFICATION  (Greek  and  Roman) 


531 


(Hirschfeld,  p.  842),  but  in  Home  itself  no  such 
cult  was  tolerated,  nor  would  Tiberius  enter- 
tain the  request  of  the  province  Boetica  to  be 
allowed  to  build  a  temple  to  him  and  his  mother 
(Tac.  Ann.  iv.  37,  38).  The  worship  of  Divus 
Augustus,  on  the  other  hand,  Tiberius  piously 
furthered.  A  temple  was  begun  to  him  in  Rome  ; 
and,  whereas  only  altars  had  hitherto  been  erected 
to  him  in  the  Western  provinces,  Tarraco  was 
allowed  in  A.D.  15  to  build  him  a  temple  (Tac.  Ann. 
i.  78).  In  the  East,  Cyzicus  was  even  punished  for 
slackness  in  this  cult  (Tac.  Ann.  iv.  36).  The 
severity  with  which  the  transgressions  of  in- 
dividuals were  visited  increased  as  the  reign  of 
Tiberius  went  on.  It  became  punishable  even  to 
change  one's  garments  before  an  image  of  Augustus, 
or  carry  a  ring  with  his  effigy  engraved  upon  it 
into  an  unclean  place  (Suet.  Tib.  58).  At  the  death 
of  Tiberius  it  was  seen  that  the  formality  of  con- 
secration, if  religiously  empty,  had  some  political 
value  as  a  verdict  passed  upon  a  deceased  ruler  by 
his  subjects.  The  Senate  refused  to  raise  Tiberius 
to  divinity.  It  had,  indeed,  not  improbably  been 
the  intention  of  Tiberius  that  consecration  should 
by  no  means  become  a  rule,  but  should  be  confined 
to  the  founders  of  the  dynasty,  Julius  and  Augustus. 
But  Caligula,  who  succeeded  him  (A.D.  37),  was  so 
far  his  opposite  that  he  claimed  the  honours  which 
Tiberius  nad  repelled.  No  mummery  was  too 
extravagant  for  this  wretched  maniac.  A  temple 
was  built  for  him  on  the  Palatine  ;  he  made  him- 
self the  equal  of  Juppiter,  and  the  Roman  aristo- 
cracy were  compelled  on  pain  of  death  to  offer  him 
all  the  forms  of  religious  homage.  On  his  assassi- 
nation in  41,  the  Senate  refused  him  also  divinity  ; 
his  reign  was  a  mad  episode  ;  but  under  Claudius 
we  register  further  developments  of  a  lasting  kind 
in  the  worship  of  the  Emperors.  Caligula  had 
already  caused  his  sister  Drusilla  to  be  consecrated 
by  the  Senate  as  the  first  diva.  Claudius  had  his 
grandmother  Livia  associated  as  diva  with  her 
husband  Divus  Augustus  (Suet.  Claud.  11  ;  Dio 
Cass.  lx.  5) ;  and  he  permitted  (between  A.D.  50 
and  54)  a  temple  (not  an  altar)  to  be  erected  to  him- 
self in  Britain  at  Camulodunum  (Tac.  Ann.  xiv.  31 ; 
Sen.  Apokol.  8 ;  cf.  Kornemann,  p.  102,  note  2 ; 
Toutain,  Cultes  paiens,  p.  86).  Claudius  after  his 
death  (54)  became  the  third  divus  by  decree  of  the 
Senate  ;  his  elevation  provoked  the  lampoon  called 
Apolcolokynthosis,  which  has  come  down  to  us 
among  the  works  of  Seneca. 

After  the  precedent  set  by  the  elevation  of 
Claudius,  consecration  became  a  normal  formality 
at  the  decease  of  every  Emperor,  unless  it  was 
desired  to  affix  a  stigma  to  his  reign.  The  outlines 
of  the  worship  of  the  Emperors  remained  very 
much  as  they  had  come  to  shape  themselves  under 
Augustus,  Tiberius,  and  Claudius,  i.e.  in  the  Greek 
East  various  local  cults  of  the  reigning  Emperor, 
whilst  at  the  provincial  headquarters  the  cult  of 
Rome  and  Augustus  became,  after  the  apotheosis 
of  Claudius,  a  cult  of  the  ffeol  SefiaaTol,  among  whom 
the  reigning  Emperor  was  included  ;  in  the  Western 
provinces,  the  cult  of  Rome  and  (the  first)  Augustus 
became  a  cult  of  Rome  and  (the  reigning)  Augustus 
or  'Romse  et  Augustorum.'  Beside  the  original 
altars,  temples  would  seem  to  have  generally  arisen 
after  the  precedent  of  Tarraco ;  at  Lyons,  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  second  century,  the  altar  was 
consecrated  to  the  cult  of  the  reigning  Emperor 
( '  Cassaris  nostri '),  the  temple  to  the  deceased 
Augusti  (Kornemann,  p.  109).  It  also  remained 
common  for  other  members  of  4he  Imperial  family 
to  be  consecrated  on  their  decease  (Poppsea  and  her 
daughter  under  Nero,  Domitilla,  the  wife  of 
Vespasian,  the  infant  son  of  Domitian,  the  father 
of  Trajan,  etc.),  although  after  Hadrian  the  privi- 
lege seems  generally  to   have  been  restricted  to 


Empresses '  (see  list  of  divi  in  Beurlier,  p.  325  f . ). 
And,  although  the  worship  of  the  living  Emperor  was 
not  usually  countenanced  in  Rome,  the  worship  of 
his  numen  or  genius  was  part  of  the  official  reli- 
gious system.  The  oath  generally  recognized  in 
the  business  of  the  Empire  was  by  the  genius  of 
the  Emperor  (6  2e/S(£trrios  bpxos,  cf.  Apul.  Metam. 
ix.  41).  In  the  laws  of  Salpensa  and  Malaga  the 
formula  for  swearing  inserts,  between  Juppiter  and 
the  penates,  first  the  list  of  consecrated  divi,  and 
then  the  genius  of  the  reigning  Emperor. 

None  but  the  worst  Emperors  followed  Caligula 
in  demanding  for  themselves  divine  honours  during 
their  lifetime.  Nero  did  so,  and  a  temple  to  him 
as  divus  would  have  been  erected  in  Rome  but  for 
its  ill  omen,  '  for  the  honour  of  the  gods  is  not 
conferred  upon  the  ruler  before  he  has  ceased  to 
act  among  mankind '  (Tac.  Ann.  xv.  74).  Domitian 
established  a  worship  of  himself,  and  was  addressed 
at  court  as  '  dominus  et  deus'  (Dio  Cass,  lxvii.  13  ; 
Suet.  Dom.  13 ;  Martial,  v.  8).  Commodus  had 
himself  worshipped  as  Hercules,  and  was  fond  of 
masquerading  with  club  and  lion-skin  (Lamprid. 
Commod.  8,  9 ;  Herodian,  i.  14.  9,  15.  2-5). 2  Aure- 
lian  (A.D.  270-275)  was  the  first  Emperor  of  sound 
understanding  who  took  to  himself  the  titles  of 
divinity  ('dominus  et  deus'),  but  he  already  had 
conceived  the  idea  of  giving  the  Roman  autocracy 
an  expression  no  less  ceremonious  than  that  of 
Oriental  monarchy.  What  Aurelian  conceived 
Diocletian  (A.D.  284-305)  carried  out.  Among 
his  measures  was  one  to  introduce  the  custom 
of  prostration,  and  to  take  for  himself  and  his 
colleague  the  names  of  Jovius  and  Herculius. 
When  Christianity  became  dominant  with  Con- 
stantine,  worship  of  the  earthly  sovereign  had,  of 
course,  to  cease.  To  the  forms,  however,  of  the 
old  worship  a  political  or  social  value  had  come  to 
attach  which  made  it  difficult  to  abolish  them 
absolutely.  The  Christian  Emperors  as  late  as  Val- 
entinian  I.  (A.D.  364-375)  were  officially  consecrated 
after  their  death  (Ausomus,  Gratiar.  act.  7),  and  the 
use  of  the  term  divus,  in  common  parlance,  of  a 
deceased  Emperor  continued  for  centuries  (Gregory 
of  Tours,  Hist.  Franc,  ii.  8  ;  Cod.  Just.  v.  27.  5,  etc. ). 
The  provincial  temples  of  the  Emperor  had  become 
so  much  a  centre  for  public  festivities,  etc.,  that 
Constantine  allowed  them  to  continue,  stipulating, 
however,  that  no  rites  of  pagan  sacrifice  should 
be  performed  in  them  (Wilmanns,  Exempla  Inscr. 
Latin.  [1873]  2843,  1.  45  f.).  Such  temples  were 
no  longer  dedicated  to  any  Emperor  personally,  but 
to  the  Imperial  Family  (gens  Flavia)  in  the  abstract. 
The  priests  of  the  Imperial  cult  and  the  sacerdotales 
(ex-priests)  had  come  to  form  an  important  element 
in  the  cities  of  the  Empire,  discharging  secular  as 
well  as  religious  functions.  These,  therefore,  the 
Christian  Empire  allowed  to  subsist.  Since,  how- 
ever, they  still  bore  the  insignia  of  old  pagan 
coronati  or  sacerdotales,  there  was  a  feeling 
against  them  among  the  religious  (Synod  of  Elvira, 
Canon  55).  Christians  did,  indeed,  accept  the 
office  (CIL  viii.  8348),  but  Pope  Innocent  I.  (Mansi, 
iii.  1069)  pronounced  that  all  who  had  done  so 
after  baptism  were  disqualified  for  the  Christian 
priesthood.  The  municipal  flamines  continued 
locally  as  secular  officials  with  the  old  name  as 
late  as  Justinian  (CIL  viii.  10516  ;  cf.  Synod  of 
Elvira,  canons  2  and  3). 

We  have  seen  that  the  offering;  of  divine  honours 
to  men  arose  among  the  Greeks  as  a  formality 

1  Such  consecration  did  not,  however,  imply  necessarily  the 
persistence  of  the  cult  when  the  Imperial  power  had  passed  to 
other  families. 

2  It  was  always,  of  course,  possible  for  private  persons  to  use 
forms  of  flattery,  and  the  Imperial  portraits  which  have  come 
down  to  us  often  represent  them  in  the  conventional  guise  of 
some  old  divinity,  the  Empresses  especially  as  Demeter ;  this 
need  not  signify  more  than  the  fancy  of  some  individual. 


533 


DEIFICATION  (Greek  and  Roman) 


whose  religions  significance  was  mainly  that  it 
showed  how  empty  religion  generally  had  become. 
Can  we  say  the  same  of  the  mass  of  organized 
cults  we  have  just  surveyed — cults  which  endured 
throughout  the  Grseco-Roman  world  for  more  than 
three  centuries  ?  It  is  obvious  that  to  some  extent 
we  can.  Among  the  Roman  aristocracy,  among 
the  better  educated  people  everywhere,  the  ascrip- 
tion of  deity  to  the  living  Emperor,  if  not  mere 
flattery,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Augustan  poets,  was 
no  doubt  understood  in  a  metaphorical  sense  which 
emptied  it  of  value  properly  religious.  The  better 
Emperors,  as  we  saw,  repelled  such  homage,  and 
Vespasian  jested  on  his  death-bed  at  the  court 
fiction  (' Vae,  puto,  deus  fio,'  Suet.  Vesp.  23). 

But  how,  if  these  practices  had  so  little  mean- 
ing, could  they  go  on  so  widely  and  so  long.  The 
answer  to  this  might  perhaps  be  as  follows.  (1) 
The  practices  were  not  meaningless  in  so  far  as 
they  reposed  upon  a  genuine  sentiment,  if  not, 
strictly  speaking,  a  religious  one.  Octavianus 
Ctesar  brought  the  world  relief  from  long  anarchy, 
and  for  the  following  centuries  order  and  peace 
around  the  Mediterranean  were  felt  to  be  bound 
up  with  the  Imperial  government.  Ueal  feelings 
of  loyalty  to  the  head  of  the  world-State  may, 
therefore,  have  sought  symbolical  expression,  and 
the  symbol,  according  to  the  conditions  of  the 
ancient  world,  could  be  nothing  but  a  religious 
formality.1  The  Christians  appeared  rebels  to  the 
civil  power  when  they  refused  to  throw  incense 
upon  the  altar  consecrated  to  the  genius  of  Augus- 
tus. (2)  Among  the  masses  of  the  people,  among 
those  to  whom  the  Emperor  was  a  distant  and  un- 
seen power,  some  real  belief  in  his  deity  may  have 
existed.  The  formalities  of  worship  impressed  the 
mind  insensibly,  and  in  the  sphere  of  belief  there 
are  notoriously  many  half -shades  that  cannot  give 
a  clear  logical  account  of  themselves.  The  common 
oath  by  the  genius  of  the  Emperor  must  have  acted 
continually  to  suggest  his  actual  presence.  The 
exclamation  *£)  Kaio-ap  seems  to  have  been  the  one 
which  naturally  sprang  to  the  lips  of  an  over-driven 
menial  (Luc.  Lucius,  16).  Especially  where  the 
personality  of  an  Emperor  had  impressed  itself 
upon  the  popular  mind  might  it  be  believed  that 
he  had  at  death  actually  become  an  operative 
supernatural  power.  Images  of  Marcus  Aurelius 
were  to  be  seen  among  the  penates  of  Roman 
houses  as  late  as  the  time  of  Diocletian,  and  he 
was  believed  to  reveal  the  future  to  men  in  dreams 
(Capitolinus,  Marcus,  18.  6f.).  (3)  The  cults  of 
the  Emperor  once  established  served  various 
interests  incidentally.  The  prestige  and  profit 
brought  to  its  locality  by  an  illustrious  temple, 
the  festivities  and  holidays  connected  with  a 
provincial  or  municipal  cult,  would  tend  to  perpet- 
uate it  apart  from  religious  motives  ;  the  motives 
to-day  which  maintain  the  observance  of  Christmas 
or  Easter  are  by  no  means  all  religious.  So,  too, 
the  natural  instinct  of  men  to  form  societies  of  a 
friendly  or  convivial  kind  could  be  gratified  under 
cover  of  Csesar- worship,  just  as  they  had  been 
gratified  by  gwasi-religious  associations  under 
the  Ptolemies  (cf.  the  clubs  of  Cultores  Augusti, 
<pi\o<Tepa<rTot,  etc. ,  in  Beurlier,  p.  258  f . ).  The 
cosmopolitan  gild  of  dramatic  artists  thought  it 
politic  to  set  the  name  of  Hadrian  as  Wos  Aioi-wot 
alongside  of  the  old  Dionysos  who  was  their  patron 
deity.  So,  too,  the  social  ambitions  of  the  freed- 
man  class  found  an  opportunity  of  gratification  in 
the  institution  of  the  Augustales  in  the  Latin 
cities  of  the  Empire  (Boissier,  Religion  romaine, 
i.  162  f.). 

Deification,  we  have  seen,  had  not  been  among 

1  If  the  Empire  was  one,  some  universal  religion  was  needed 
to  extend  over  its  confused  variety  of  national,  tribal,  and  civic 
gods.    Cf.  art.  C<e3arism. 


the  Greeks  and  Romans  a  recognition  of  the  divine 
right  of  kings  per  se,  but  of  the  material  or  moral 
power  of  individuals.  And  under  the  Roman 
Empire,  if  the  Emperors  alone  were  divine  for  the 
whole  realm  by  the  theory  of  the  State,  other  men 
might  attain  deity  for  a  particular  locality  or  a 
particular  sect.  The  deification  of  widest  range 
after  that  of  members  of  the  Imperial  family  was 
that  of  Antinoos,  the  youth  loved  by  Hadrian. 
The  Emperor  on  his  death  (a.d.  130)  encouraged 
the  worship  of  him  as  a  god ;  temples  and  in- 
numerable statues  were  erected  to  him,  and  a  star 
was  discovered  which  was  clearly  his  soul  in  heaven 
(Dio  Cass.  lxix.  11 ;  Paus.  ix.  7  ;  Spart.  Had.  14. 
7  ;  OIL  xiv.  2112,  etc.).  Theophanes  of  Mitylene, 
the  friend  of  Pompey,  was  worshipped  as  a  god  by 
his  native  city  after  his  death  (Tac.  Ann.  vi.  18 ; 
coins  of  Mitylene),  and,  similarly,  Cnidus  voted 
his  contemporary  Artemidorus  np.al  la6deot  {Inscr. 
in  Brit.  Mus.,  no.  787).  The  vote  recorded  in  the 
inscription  was  passed  in  his  lifetime ;  but  the 
divine  honours  were  probably  not  to  be  offered  till 
after  his  decease.  Apollonius  of  Tyana,  according 
to  Philostratus,  though  he  disclaimed  deity,  was 
saluted  as  a  god  by  large  numbers  of  people  (iv. 
31 ;  cf.  iii.  50) ;  Caracalla  built  a  temple  to  him 
(Dio  Cass,  lxxvii.  18),  and  he  continued .  for  long 
to  be  an  object  of  popular  worship  (Vopisc.  Aure- 
lian,  24). 

The  practice  of  offering  heroic  honours  to  the 
dead  became  much  more  general  in  the  later  times 
of  pagan  antiquity.  Such  honours  were  sometimes 
conferred  publicly  by  a  city  or  association  as  a 
special  distinction,  as,  e.g. ,  by  Tarsus  upon  the  philo- 
sopher Athenodorus  (pseudo-Lac.  Macrob.'21;  cf. 
Head,  Hist.  Num.,  1887,  p.  488) ;  Athens  {CIA  iii. 
889) ;  Cyzicus  {Mitt.  Athen.  ix.  [1884]  28  f.).1  But 
the  private  consecration  of  the  dead  by  their 
relatives  and  friends  became  increasingly  common 
in  Roman  times.  Cicero  resolved  on  the  '  apo- 
theosis '  of  his  daughter  and  designed  a  temple  for 
her  (ad  Att.  xii.  36 ;  cf.  the  temple  of  Pomptilla, 
Inscr.  groec.  Sic.  et  It.  607).a  The  salutation  of 
the  dead  as  'hero'  or  'heroine'  becomes  an 
ordinary  formula  on  grave-stones ;  rip$ov  becomes  an 
ordinary  name  for  a  tomb.  That  many  a  bereaved 
person  who  had  such  an  epitaph  engraved  meant 
to  imply  that  his  or  her  dead  had  actually  passed 
into  a  fife  of  higher  power  or  beatitude,  is  shown 
by  such  phrases  as  '  Thou  livest  as  a  hero,  Thou  art 
not  become  a  dead  thing '  (fijs  <&*  fipw,  nal  "ixus  oix 
eyivov,  Kaibel,  Epig.  grace,  1878,  p.  433).  But  the 
custom  of  coupling  the  title  'hero'  in  common 
speech  with  the  name  of  a  dead  man  became  so 
general  that  it  survived  in  Christian  times,  '  hero ' 
being  now  simply  an  equivalent  of  imKapl-rns, 
'  sainted,'  just  as  in  the  West  divus  survived  as  the 
title  of  deceased  Emperors  (Deneken,  in  Roscher, 
col.  2547 f.;  Rohde,  Psyche*,  646 f.). 

Literature. — Deneken,  art.  'Heros,'  in  Roscher;  Rohde, 
Peyclie  *,  1907,  p.  146  f .  etc. ;  Beurlier,  De  divinis  honoribus 
quos  acceperunt  Alexander  et  successores  eius  (Paris,  1890) ; 
Kaerst, '  Die  Begriindung  des  Alexander-  und  Ptolemaer-fcultea 
in  Aegypten,'  Rhein.  Mus.  vol.  Hi.  (1897)  p.  42  f.  ;  H.  von  Prott, 
'  Das  ZyKwixiov  ets  UroKefialov  und  die  Zeitgeschichte,1  ib.  vol. 
liii.  (1898)  p.  460  f. ;  Koruemann,  Zur  Geschichte  der  antiken 
Hcrrscherkulte  (Leipzig,  1901) ;  E.  R.  Bevan,  '  Worship  of  the 
Kings  in  the  Greek  Cities,'  in  the  English  Historical  Review, 
vol.  xvi.  (1901) ;  Breccia,  '  D  diritto  dinastico  nelle  monarchic 
dei  successon  d'Alessandro  Magno'  (1903),  p.  80  f.,  in  Beloch'a 
Studi  di  storia  antica ;  Beloch,  Griech.  Gesch.,  vol.  Hi.  (1904)  p. 
369  f. ;  P.  Wendland,  Die  hellenistisch-romische  Kultur  (1907). 
For  the  Ptolemies :  Strack,  Die  Dynastie  der  Ptolemder  (1897), 
p.  12  f. ;  W.  Otto,  Priester  und  Tempel  im  hellenistischen 
Aegypten,  vol.  i.  (1905)  p.  138  f.  For  Pen?amum :  Cardinali, 
'II  regno  di  Pergamo '  (1906),  p.  139f.,  id  Beloch's  Studi  dt 
storia  antica.    For  Roman  Empire :  Preller,  Rom.  Mythologie 

1  There  seem  even  cases  where  the  title  '  hero '  is  applied  in 
public  inscriptions  to  persons  still  living  (Paton,  Inscr.  of  Cos, 
1891,  p.  76 ;  cf.  C1G,  2583). 

2  Sometimes  the  dead  was  represented  in  the  guise  of  some 
god,  especially  Dionysos  or  Hermes. 


DEISM 


533 


(3rd  od.  by  Jordan,  1883),  vol.  ii.  p.  426  f. ;  Jean  ReVUle,  La 
Religion  d  Rome  sous  les  Stvtres  (1886),  p.  30  f. ;  Mommsen, 
Rom.  Staatsrecht*  (1887),  vol.  ii.  p.  766 f.,  809;  Hirschfeld, 
'Zur  Gesch.  des  rom.  Kaisercultus,'  in  SB  A  W  for  1888,  p. 
833  f.  ;  Beurlier,  Le  Culte  imperial  (1891) ;  Kornemann,  Zur 
Geschichle  der  antiken  Herrscherkulte  (1901) ;  Wissowa,  Re- 
ligion und  Kultus  der  R&mer  (1902),  in  I.  von  Miiller  's  Hand- 
buch,  p.  280  f. ;  Boissier,  La  Religion  romaine  d'Auguste  aux 
Antonins6  (1906);  Toutain,  Les  Culles  paiens  dans  I'empire 
romain  (1907).  E.  R.  BEVAN. 

DEISM.— I.  HISTORICAL.—  The  movement  of 
religious  thought  known  as  '  Deism '  was  of  com- 
paratively brief  duration.  Its  rapid  rise  into 
notoriety,  its  short-lived  prevalence,  and  its  gradual 
subsidence  all  fall  within  the  limits  of  a  single 
century.  Roughly  speaking,  the  beginning  of  the 
movement  was  contemporaneous  with  the  Revolu- 
tion of  1688.  Its  epitaph  was  pronounced  in  1790, 
when  Burke  could  speak  of  the  Deistic  writers  as 
already  forgotten.  Nor  is  the  speedy  exhaustion 
of  interest  difficult  to  explain.  The  conditions 
which  combined  to  direct  men's  attention  to  the 
Deistic  problem  were  transient ;  and  the  whole 
dispute  was  too  frigid  and  too  little  in  contact 
with  real  life  to  afreet  the  deeper  currents  of  re- 
ligious thought.  Superficially,  much  excitement 
was  stimulated,  until  the  air  was  thick  with  con- 
troversial writings.  But,  with  a  few  excep- 
tions, neither  was  any  conspicuous  literary  merit 
displayed  by  the  controversialists,  nor  did  their 
arguments  penetrate  far  into  the  secrets  of  the 
spiritual  life.  This  serves  to  explain  why  the 
religious  debates  of  the  18th  cent,  have  faded  from 
the  common  memory  more  completely  than  those 
of  earlier  periods.  On  the  other  hand,  to  the 
student  Deism  presents  special  points  of  interest. 
English  religion  would  never  have  reached  its 
present  condition  if  it  had  not  passed  through  the 
stage  with  which  we  are  about  to  deal. 

If  the  movement  is  to  be  understood  in  relation 
to  the  general  development  of  theological  thought, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  seek  for  an  explanation  of 
its  origin  in  a  period  when  the  name  'Deism  '  had 
not  yet  come  into  vogue,  and  in  speculations  the 
true  issue  of  which  was  not  anticipated  by  their 
own  authors.  Halyburton,  in  his  book  entitled 
Natural  Religion  insufficient  (1714),  was  the  first 
to  name  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury  as  the  parent 
of  Deism.  The  charge  was  endorsed  by  Leland, 
whose  View  of  the  Deistical  Writers  ( 1754)  contains 
much  carefully  amassed  material,  very  useful  to 
later  students.  Since  then  Lord  Herbert's  responsi- 
bility, whether  to  his  credit  or  discredit,  has  been 
commonly  recognized,  and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  his  famous  book  de  Veritate  was  composed 
with  a  purpose  quite  different  from  that  to  which 
its  arguments  subsequently  contributed.  The  book 
deserves  an  epithet  often  applied  in  cases  where 
there  is  little  justification  for  so  strong  a  term. 
It  was,  without  exaggeration,  '  epoch-making. '  It 
initiated  a  line  of  thought  and  a  method  of  re- 
ligious speculation  pregnant  with  results,  the  full 
measure  of  which  has  not  even  to-day  been  ex- 
hausted. No  better  introduction  to  the  study  of 
Deism  can  be  provided  than  a  brief  analysis  of  the 
main  theses  which  Lord  Herbert  sets  out  to  estab- 
lish. The  title  of  the  book,  given  in  full,  clearly 
indicates  the  writer's  purpose  :  de  Veritate,  prout 
distinguitur  a  Bevelatione,  Verisimili,  Probabili, 
et  a  Falso  (Paris,  1624).  At  the  basis  of  the 
author's  theory  is  his  belief  in  the  existence  of 
notitice  communes,  or  innate  principles.  These  he 
explains  in  his  chapter  '  de  Instinctu  Naturali,' 
to  be  distinguished  by  six  marks,  viz.  Priority, 
Independence,  Universality,  Certainty,  Practical 
Necessity,  and  Immediate  Cogency.  Ideas  to  which 
these  marks  belong  are  imprinted  on  the  mind  by 
the  hand  of  God.  They  are  axioms,  neither  re- 
quiring nor  admitting  proof.     When  dealing  with 


the  subject  of  religion,  he  distinguishes  five  prin- 
ciples as  exhibiting  this  primary  character,  and 
consequently  independent  of  all  tradition,  whether 
written  or  oral.  They  come  direct  from  a  heavenly 
source  and  are  common  to  all  religions.  These 
five  fundamental  truths  are  the  following :  (1) 
that  God  exists,  (2)  that  it  is  a  duty  to  worship 
Him,  (3)  that  the  practice  of  virtue  is  the  true 
mode  of  doing  Him  honour,  (4)  that  man  is  under 
the  obligation  to  repent  of  his  sins,  and  (5)  that 
there  will  be  rewards  and  punishments  after  death. 
The  axiomatic  character  claimed  on  behalf  of  prin- 
ciples such  as  these  is  open  to  debate,  and  Lord 
Herbert's  theories  were  afterwards  subjected  to 
damaging  criticism  by  Locke.  But,  whatever 
opinion  be  held  as  to  the  validity  of  Lord  Her- 
bert's assumptions,  it  remains  true  that  in  his 
works  we  are  brought  face  to  face  with  the  prin- 
ciples which  lie  at  the  root  of  Deism.  Here  we 
find  assertion  of  the  competence  of  human  reason 
to  attain  certainty  with  regard  to  fundamental 
religious  truths,  and  insistence  upon  the  indissol- 
uble connexion  between  religion  and  the  practical 
duties  of  life.  This  is  precisely  the  theme  on 
which  the  Deistic  writers  enlarged.  The  pivot 
of  the  whole  controversy  is  the  disputed  question 
of  the  sufficiency  of  natural  reason  to  establish 
religion  and  enforce  morality  —  a  sufficiency  as 
vehemently  asserted  by  the  Deists  as  it  was  denied 
by  their  opponents. 

Much  misunderstanding  will  be  avoided  if  it  be  remembered 
from  the  outset  that  the  Deistic  controversy  was  in  the  main 
philosophical  rather  than  religious.  Had  it  not  been  so,  it 
would  have  been  incorrect  to  indicate  a  metaphysician  like 
Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury  as  the  forerunner  of  Deism.  Dis- 
appointment awaits  those  who  expect  to  find  in  the  writings 
of  this  period  any  searching  analysis  of  a  living  spiritual  ex- 
perience. The  controversy  arose  not  from  the  attempt  of  the 
soul  to  explain  to  itself  its  joys  and  fears  in  the  presence  of 
God,  but  from  the  desire  of  the  thinker  to  remove  from  his 
theory  of  the  world  inconsistencies  of  which  he  was  continually 
becoming  more  uncomfortably  conscious.  The  details  of  the 
controversy  wUl  show  that  the  chief  impulse  came  from  the 
wish  to  find  a  way  of  reconciliation  between  the  then  commonly 
accepted  philosophic  view  of  the  Divine  nature  and  the  facts  of 
observation.  And  new  facts  were  the  order  of  the  day.  It  was 
a  period  of  discovery  and  of  the  rapid  acquisition  of  all  kinds 
of  knowledge.  Information  was  pouring  in  with  regard  to  the 
religious  systems  of  other  parts  of  the  earth.  It  was  no  longer 
possible  to  live  in  a  religious  world  limited  by  the  horizon  of 
Western  Europe.  Travellers  were  bringing  home  from  recently 
discovered,  or  re-discovered,  countries  reports  of  imposing 
civilizations,  in  which  the  sanctions  of  civil  order  were  pro- 
vided by  religions  of  the  utmost  diversity  in  origin  and 
character.  In  this  way  materials  for  the  study  of  comparative 
religion  began  to  be  collected,  and  it  became  possible  to  form 
some  conception  of  the  bewildering  multiplicity  of  religious 
customs,  ceremonies,  and  doctrines  throughout  the  world.  No 
philosophic  explanation  of  man  and  man's  religious  faculties 
could  claim  to  be  adequate  which  left  all  this  mass  of  new 
material  out  of  account. 

At  the  same  time,  other  more  subtle  influences  were  at  work 
stimulating  man's  natural  desire  to  unify  his  knowledge.  In 
the  domain  of  physical  science  the  process  of  unification  was 
advancing  with  unparalleled  rapidity.  The  so-called  '  natural 
philosophers.'  among  whom  were  numbered  the  greatest  intel- 
lects of  the  day,  were  engaged  in  establishing  those  wide 
generalizations  which  have  formed  the  basis  of  modern  science. 
The  visible  success  thus  achieved,  deserving  and  receiving  the 
applause  of  the  world,  prompted  the  philosophic  student  of 
religion  to  search  for  some  wide  formula  that  would  cover  hie 
facts  as  satisfactorily  as  the  formula  of  Newton  covered  the 
phenomena  of  the  physical  world. 

I.  Forerunners  of  Deism. — It  is  far  from  easy 
to  form  any  estimate  of  the  phase  of  intellectual 
development  through  which  the  nation  was  pass- 
ing at  the  time  when  it  was  disposed  to  accept,  or 
at  all  events  to  discuss,  the  novel  theory  of  religion 
which  the  Deists  proposed.  English  philosophy 
has  never  flowed  in  a  very  wide  or  deep  stream. 
It  is  a  common  reproach  that  as  a  nation  England 
has  been  in  the  past,  and  remains  to  the  present 
day,  strangely  insusceptible  to  the  influence  of 
abstract  ideas.  It  is  difficult  to  deny  the  truth 
of  the  criticism.  Even  the  controversies  of  the 
Reformation  were  in  England  decided  to  a  great 
extent  upon  practical  considerations.    Little  atten- 


534 


DEISM 


tion  was  for  the  most  part  paid  to  the  examina- 
tion of  first  principles.  An  exception  to  the 
general  rule,  nowever,  is  afforded  by  Hobbes 
(t  1679).  Together  with  other  writers  of  the  time, 
he  exhibits  a  strong  prejudice  against  the  schol- 
astic philosophy.  In  certain  respects  he  repre- 
sents, with  some  characteristic  English  peculiari- 
ties, the  sceptical  tendency  of  the  Renaissance. 
It  was,  indeed,  chiefly  as  an  exponent  of  political 
philosophy  that  he  made  his  mark  and  arrested 
the  attention  of  his  contemporaries.  With  the 
political  theories  which  he  defended,  and  with  the 
controversies  which  ensued,  we  are  not  concerned. 
His  importance  in  relation  to  the  course  of  re- 
ligious speculation  lies  rather  in  the  temper  which 
he  contributed  to  produce  than  in  the  acceptance 
of  his  principles  by  any  body  of  disciples.  His 
self-sufficiency,  his  obvious  one-sidedness,  his  dis- 
regard of  necessary  qualifications,  and  his  rigorous 
insistence  on  the  most  paradoxical  conclusions 
from  his  premisses  aroused  an  angry  opposition. 
Hence  it  is  not  surprising  to  come  across  the  state- 
ment that,  while  he  had  innumerable  opponents, 
his  supporters  numbered  but  one.  It  was  a  true 
instinct  which  made  the  men  of  his  time  feel  that 
the  tendency  of  the  Leviathan  was  in  the  direction 
of  a  thoroughgoing  infidelity.  The  literature  of 
the  Restoration  bears  witness  to  the  existence  of 
a  general  opinion  that  danger  was  to  be  appre- 
hended from  the  spread  of  his  influence.  Though 
Hobbes  himself  was  utterly  opposed  to  that  kind 
of  natural  religion  which  afterwards  formulated 
itself  as  Deism,  yet  he  was,  in  fact,  one  of  the 
pioneers  of  the  movement.  As  much  as  any  other 
single  writer  he  gave  the  impulse  to  religious 
speculation,  and,  by  helping  to  shake  the  old  con- 
fidence in  tradition,  contributed  to  the  removal  of 
one  of  the  main  obstacles  to  the  introduction  of 
Deism. 

Another  and  a  very  different  element  at  work  in 
the  intellectual  life  of  the  nation  was  derived  from 
the  influence  of  the  Cambridge  Platonists  (q.v.). 
They  were  a  small  body  standing  much  aloof  from 
the  general  life  of  the  country,  who  from  the  vantage 
ground  of  academic  seclusion  surveyed  the  troubled 
course  of  the  political  struggle  and  the  contentions 
of  the  warring  sects.  For  themselves,  they  desired 
to  establish  on  rational  grounds  a  Christian  philo- 
sophy, leaving  to  others  the  barren  victories  in 
the  field  of  popular  controversy.  In  them  the 
genuine  philosophic  instinct  to  pursue  the  search 
for  ultimate  truth  was  unmistakably  present.  It 
was  their  dominant  motive.  Influenced  by  the 
wide-spread  reaction  against  the  Aristotelianism 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  they  discovered,  in  a  modified 
form  of  Platonism,  a  theory  which  afforded  satis- 
faction alike  to  their  religious  and  to  their  intel- 
lectual requirements.  In  the  forefront  of  their 
system  they  placed  the  conception  of  the  human 
reason  as  receptive  of  illumination  from  the  Divine 
source.  From  the  elevation  of  the  standpoint  thus 
attained — so  it  seemed  to  them — the  questions  at 
issue  between  the  sects  were  reduced  to  their 
true  dimensions,  and  lost  the  exaggerated  import- 
ance which  had  been  conventionally  attached  to 
them.  In  the  speculations  of  these  students  the 
ethical  motive  is  markedly  prominent.  They  in- 
sisted on  the  immutability  of  the  moral  law  and 
on  its  independence  of  any  positive  commands, 
human  or  Divine.  For  the  most  part  they  were 
inclined  to  abstain  from  controversy.  But  some 
of  them  found  it  expedient  to  meet  the  theories  of 
Hobbes  with  an  explicit  refutation.  Against  his 
materialism,  and  his  speciously  simple  reduction 
of  all  human  motives  to  various  manifestations  of 
self-love,  they  opposed  their  Platonic  idealism  and 
their  belief  in  the  existence  of  moral  principles  to 
which  an  inviolable  obligation  essentially  belonged. 


At  first  sight  it  might  appear  paradoxical  to  main- 
tain that  two  systems  so  consciously  and  directly 
opposed  to  one  another  as  those  of  Hobbes  and  the 
Cambridge  Platonists  both  helped  to  prepare  the 
ground  for  the  growth  of  Deism.  But  it  will  be 
remembered  that  the  effect  of  the  writings  of 
Hobbes  has  been  described  as  in  the  main  nega- 
tive. He  helped  to  sap  the  defences  of  authority, 
whereas  the  Cambridge  School  contributed  some- 
thing more  positive,  accustoming  the  minds  of  men 
to  the  hope  of  finding  in  their  own  reason  a  judge 
capable  of  bringing  to  an  end  the  weary  series  of 
doubtful  disputations  over  matters  of  faith. 

In  a  still  more  marked  degree  is  it  true  that  the 
writings  of  Locke  (t  1704)  produced  an  effect  upon 
the  current  of  religious  thought  which  he  neither 
intended  nor  approved.  Locke  was  not  a  Deist, 
though  the  reproach  was  naturally  enough  cast  in 
the  teeth  of  the  man  apart  from  whose  influence 
Deism  would  never  have  enjoyed  the  vogue  to 
which  it  eventually  attained.  While  his  relation 
to  the  movement  was  unquestionably  close  and 
intimate,  it  was  at  the  same  time  far  from  simple. 
For  not  only  did  the  Deists  profess  to  draw  their 
inferences  from  his  principles,  but  many,  perhaps 
most,  of  the  opponents  of  the  movement  likewise 
were  convinced  adherents  of  his  philosophy.  Locke 
may  therefore  be  said  to  have  laid  down  the 
lines  along  which  the  controversy  was  destined  to 
move.  This  he  did,  above  all,  by  his  short  but 
very  significant  work  on  the  Reasonableness  of 
Christianity  (1695  ;  see  art.  LOCKE).  In  the  pages 
of  the  writers  who  followed  along  the  path  where 
he  led  the  way  we  shall  find  the  same  ostensible 
attempt  to  simplify  the  ancient  faith, '  at  first 
with  an  apologetic  purpose,  then  with  a  gradually 
increasing  and  more  overt  hostility ;  the  same 
principle  of  discrimination  between  the  supposed 
valuable  and  worthless  elements  of  the  Creed  ; 
the  same  pre-eminence  assigned  to  the  ethical 
teaching  of  Christianity  ;  the  same  conception  of 
religion  as  a  moral  philosophy  and  a  code  of  pre- 
cepts rather  than  a  power  enabling  the  enfeebled 
will ;  the  same  treatment  of  miracles  and  prophecy 
as  external  evidences  of  the  truth  of  the  claims  of 
Christianity  ;  the  same  anxiety  to  discover  a  re- 
conciliation between  belief  in  the  absolute  im- 
partiality of  the  Divine  goodness  and  the  position 
of  privilege  assigned  to  revealed  religion.  It  would 
not,  of  course,  be  true  to  say  that  all  these  ideas 
were  novel  when  they  were  propounded  by  Locke. 
Many  of  them  had  already  a  long  history  behind 
them,  and  had  provided  the  subject-matter  of 
mediaeval  disputations.  But  what  is  worthy  of 
remark  is  that  here,  for  the  first  time,  we  meet 
them  in  systematic  combination  with  one  another. 
They  are  made  to  converge  upon  a  certain  point, 
and  to  conduct  to  a  conclusion  which  involves 
certainly  the  modification,  and  possibly  the  re- 
pudiation, of  important  elements  in  the  hitherto 
accepted  creed. 

2.  Deism  in  progress. — Those  who  wish  to  be 
supplied  with  a  chronological  list  of  the  Deistic 
writers  may  be  referred  to  the  work  of  Leland  (see 
Literature  at  end).  It  will  be  more  profitable  for 
our  present  purpose  to  select  certain  writers,  not 
necessarily  those  of  the  greatest  reputation,  but 
those  most  typical  because  representative  of  some 
critical  moment  in  the  development  of  the  move- 
ment. Of  these  the  first  to  deserve  mention  is 
John  Toland,  who  in  1696  published  his  Chris- 
tianity not  mysterious,  showing  that  there  is 
nothing  in  tlie  Gospel  contrary  to  Reason  nor 
above  it,  and  that  no  Christian  Doctrine  can  pro- 
perly be  called  a  Mystery.  The  author  claimed 
to  be  drawing  the  natural  inferences  from  the  pre- 
misses of  Locke's  philosophy  ;  and  the  title  of  the 
book  indicates  clearly  enough  in  which  direction 


DEISM 


535 


he  pushed  forward  the  argument.  Where  Locke 
had  urged  the  '  reasonableness  of  Christianity,' 
Toland  would  interpret  the  word  'reasonable'  as 
equivalent  to  '  not  mysterious.'  This  is  not  in  the 
least  what  Locke  meant.  It  is  a  long  step  further 
forward  along  the  road  which  led  to  the  rejection 
of  Christian  belief. 

The  book  was  of  no  particular  merit,  but,  owing  to  the  highly 
charged  condition  of  the  intellectual  atmosphere,  its  publica- 
tion caused  a  considerable  explosion  of  indignation.  It  was 
condemned  by  the  Irish  Parliament  and  ordered  to  be  burnt. 
The  Lower  House  of  the  Convocation  of  Canterbury  took  cog- 
nizance of  it,  and  would  have  proceeded  further,  had  not  the 
Bishops  decided,  on  a  point  of  law,  to  take  no  action  in  the 
matter.  Though  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  did  not  move, 
there  was  a  general  feeling  that  it  was  an  abuse  of  the  recently 
accorded  freedom  of  the  press  when  a  young  author  put 
forward  such  crude  and  revolutionary  views  as  that  '  neither 
God  Himself  nor  any  of  His  attributes  are  mysteries  to  us  for 
want  of  adequate  ideas,'  and  that  so  far  as  any  Church  allows 
of  mysteries  it  is  anti-Christian  (cf.  Wjlkins,  Concilia,  1737,  iv. 
631).  Toland  desired  so  to  enlarge  the  jurisdiction  of  reason  as 
to  make  it  co-extensive  with  the  contents  of  revelation.  In 
deliberate  opposition  to  the  principle  of  earlier  writers,1  he 
refused  to  acknowledge  the  validity  of  the  distinction  between 
apprehension  and  comprehension.  What  man  could  not  com- 
prehend was  on  that  account  to  be  rejected  as  false.  Not 
content  with  merely  stating  this  general  principle,  he  attempted 
to  give  a  historical  account  of  the  process  by  which  mystery 
had  intruded  itself  into  a  Christianity  originally  devoid  of  this 
baser  element.  He  pointed  out,  correctly  enough,  that  in  the 
language  of  the  NT  the  word  '  mystery '  signified  not  some- 
thing incomprehensible,  but  a  secret  revealed  to  the  initiated. 
Hence  he  inferred  that  the  conception  of  mystery  in  the  sense 
of  that  which  is  beyond  the  reach  of  human  understanding 
was  alien  from  the  spirit  of  original  Christianity,  and  he  en- 
deavoured to  show  that  a  gradual  assimilation  of  the  new  faith 
to  the  lower  type  of  Jewish  and  heathen  religions,  the  intru- 
sion of  Platonic  philosophy,  and  the  ambitious  projects  of  an 
unscrupulous  priesthood  were  responsible  for  the  deterioration. 

Although  Toland  cannot  be  credited  with  any 
large  measure  of  originality,  yet  his  book  marks  a 
critical  point  in  the  gradual  change  of  men's  views 
with  regard  to  the  comparative  authority  of  reason 
and  revelation.  A  certain  arrogant  assertion  of 
superiority  on  behalf  of  reason  was  now  substituted 
for  that  deference  which  had  hitherto  been  con- 
sidered the  fitting  attitude  of  the  human  mind  in 
the  presence  of  Knowledge  communicated  from 
above.  Another  and  more  easily  recognizable 
result  of  his  rash  speculations  was  connected  with 
his  theories  as  to  the  course  of  early  Church  history. 
The  discussion  of  the  views  which  he  set  forth 
stimulated  a  lively  inquiry  into  the  nature  and 
value  of  the  documents  on  which  the  historian  of 
that  period  must  depend.  In  a  book  entitled 
Amyntor,  which  was  published  in  1699,  Toland 
himself,  taking  part  in  the  discussion,  endeavoured 
— or  so  it  was  supposed — to  undermine  the  credit 
of  Scripture  by  calling  attention  to  the  large  mass 
of  early  Christian  literature,  and  by  suggesting 
covertly  that  canonical  and  uncanonical  writings 
alike  were  the  offspring  of  superstition  and 
credulity. 

Another  new  departure  was  taken  when  Anthony 
Collins,  in  1713,  published  the  Discourse  of  Free- 
thinking  occasioned  by  the  Rise  and  Growth  of  a 
Sect  called  Freethinkers.  Collins  reiterated  and 
emphasized  the  claim  of  reason  to  pronounce  upon 
the  contents  of  revelation.  He  advanced  beyond 
the  point  where  Toland  had  left  the  matter,  by 
attempting  to  provide  a  theoretic  justification  of 
the  claim  to  unlimited  freedom  of  inquiry,  in  all 
directions,  over  the  whole  field  of  moral  and 
religious  speculation.  Toland  had  himself  exer- 
cised this  freedom,  but  without  prefixing  any 
thorough  examination  of  the  positive  and  negative 
arguments  in  favour  of  extending  this  privilege  to 
all  classes.  Collins  had  the  acuteness  to  perceive 
that  the  whole  of  the  Deistic  argument,  involving, 
as  it  did,  an  appeal  to  the  reason  of  the  ordinary 
man,  rested  ultimately  upon  a  decision  in  favour 
of  unconditional  individual  liberty  to  pursue  in- 

1  e.g.  Bacon,  '  Concludamus  theologiam  sacram  ex  verbo  et 
oraculis  Dei,  non  ex  lumine  naturae  aut  rationis  dictamine 
hauriri  debere'  (de  Augm.  Scient.  IX.  i.). 


vestigation,  and  upon  a  conviction  of  individual 
capacity  to  discover  the  truth.  Accordingly  he 
set  out  systematically  to  prove  that  the  progress 
of  civilization  has  been  furthered  where  men  have 
claimed  this  right  for  themselves  and  extended  it 
to  others,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  deplorable 
consequences  have  ensued  wherever  the  privilege 
of  free  thought  has  been  withheld. 

In  some  directions  his  task  was  easy.  History  provided  an 
ample  supply  of  examples  of  the  evils  which  attend  a  policy  of 
obscurantism,  coupled  with  a  blind  and  unintelligent  deference 
to  external  authority.  But  he  adopted  a  much  more  question- 
able position  when  he  maintained  that  the  cause  of  morality 
would  be  benefited  by  its  complete  dissociation  from  all  mysteri- 
ous sanctions  whatever.  He  supported  his  case  by  the  assertion 
that  the  great  moral  teachers  of  mankind  had  appealed,  not  to 
the  fears,  but  to  the  reason,  of  their  hearers.  It  was  the 
method  of  the  Prophets,  of  the  Apostles,  of  Christ  Himself. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  endeavour  to  enforce  belief  by  any  other 
means  than  the  plain  straightforward  appeal  to  the  individual 
reason  had  been  the  bane  of  both  Church  and  State,  the  source 
of  moral  corruption,  the  cause  of  every  kind  of  discord,  dis- 
turbance, and  disaster.  Bitter  attacks  are  made  upon  all  pro- 
fessional ministers  of  religion.  Invective  of  this  kind  was  a 
favourite  theme  with  the  Deistic  writers,  and  for  various 
reasons,  chiefly  political,  was  not  distasteful  to  the  public.  The 
supposed  machinations  of  the  clergy  served  as  a  convenient  ex- 
planation of  certain  facts  in  the  history  of  religion,  which  did 
not  easily  square  with  the  Deists'  theory  of  contented  reliance 
on  the  natural  reason  and  instinct  of  man.  From  their  point 
of  view  the  prevalence  of  patently  false  religions  and  the  per- 
sistence of  superstitions  were  anomalies  that  had  to  be  accounted 
for.  So  they  sought  to  save  the  credit  of  the  natural  human 
reason  by  fixing  the  responsibility  for  these  evils  upon  an 
intriguing,  selfish,  and  idle  priesthood. 

Another  point  to  be  observed  is  the  markedly  utilitarian 
character  of  the  reasoning  employed  by  Collins.  In  defending 
the  principle  of  freedom  of  thought  he  calls  attention  primarily 
to  the  desirable  consequences  which  will  follow  upon  its 
adoption.  Like  many  others  of  his  school,  he  made  expediency 
a  criterion  of  ethical  values.  The  spirit  of  the  age,  devoted  to 
the  supposed  interests  of  practical  common  sense,  resented  the 
application  of  any  rule  except  one  calculated  on  the  basis  of 
consequent  pleasures  and  pains. 

A  later  work  by  the  same  writer  is  significant  of 
the  transition  to  yet  another  phase  of  the  contro- 
versy. In  the  Discourse  of  the  Grounds  and 
Seasons  of  Christian  Religion  (1724),  Collins  for- 
sakes the  question  of  the  relative  reasonableness  or 
unreasonableness  of  the  contents  of  the  Christian 
Revelation,  and  turns  to  an  inquiry  into  the 
credibility  of  prophecy  and  miracle.  It  had  been  a 
recognized  mode  of  traditional  Christian  apology 
to  rest  the  case  for  Christianity  on  two  main  sup- 
ports— the  correspondence  of  NT  facts  with  OT 
prophecies,  and  trie  miraculous  powers  displayed 
by  Christ  and  the  Apostles.  So  long  as  the  Biblical 
record  remained  unquestioned  and  uncriticized, 
this  position  was  strong  enough  to  withstand 
assault.  But,  now  that  the  spirit  of  criticism  had 
begun  to  throw  suspicion  upon  the  authenticity 
and  the  good  faith  of  the  Biblical  documents, 
serious  weaknesses  in  this  line  of  defence  revealed 
themselves,  of  which  the  innovators  were  quick  to 
take  logical  advantage.  If  the  facts  were  doubt- 
ful, what  became  of  the. argument  from  correspond- 
ence with  prophecy  and  from  miracle  ?  So  began 
the  long  debate  over  the  '  external '  evidences  of 
Christianity.  It  was  a  descent  from  the  compara- 
tively higher  level  of  an  inquiry  into  the  fundamental 
truths  of  religion  to  undignified  and  often  vitupera- 
tive disputes  over  the  veracity  of  the  Apostles  and 
the  other  NT  writers.  But,  although  the  tendency 
to  substitute  this  less  important  issue  showed  itself 
as  early  as  the  third  decade  of  the  century,  it  was 
not  till  some  years  later  that  the  change  became 
general. 

Christianity  as  old  as  the  Creation,  or  the  Gospel 
a  Republication  of  the  Religion  of  Nature,  was 
published  in  the  year  1730.  Its  author,  Matthew 
Tindal,  Fellow  of  All  Souls'  College,  Oxford,  had 
passed  through  various  changes  of  religious  belief, 
and  did  not  bring  out  this,  his  best-known  work, 
till  near  the  end  of  a  long  life.  It  was  at  once 
recognized  as  a  noteworthy  contribution  to  the  con- 
troversy.    It  was  sober  and  restrained  in  tone,  and 


536 


DEISM 


on  the  whole  was  free  from  the  personalities  which 
disfigure  so  much  of  the  contemporary  literature. 
Tindal  collected,  arranged,  and  shaped  with  con- 
siderable skill  the  arguments  on  which  the  Deists 
relied,  and  presented  their  case  in  a  compact  intelli- 
gible form.  His  book  marks  the  culmination  of 
Deism,  when  the  movement  had  reached  the  height 
of  its  development,  and  was  not  yet  affected  by  the 
deterioration  which  soon  afterwards  set  in.  He 
did  his  work  as  well,  perhaps,  as  it  could  be  done. 
The  inconsistencies,  mistaken  hypotheses,  and  his- 
torical impossibilities  which  find  a  place  in  his 
book  belong  to  the  system  as  such,  and  could  not 
be  removed  without  causing  the  collapse  of  the 
whole  construction. 

Tindal  brought  to  its  logical  conclusion  the  pro- 
cess initiated  by  Toland  and  Collins.  His  professed 
purpose  was  the  same  as  theirs  had  been — to  lay 
down  such  plain  and  simple  rules  as  should  enable 
men  of  the  meanest  capacity  to  distinguish  between 
religion  and  superstition.  Like  his  predecessors, 
he  repudiated  mystery  and  mere  deference  to 
authority,  and  insisted  on  the  duty  of  every  man 
to  fashion  his  own  religious  belief  for  himself. 
And,  in  order  to  show  that  it  is  actually  possible 
for  every  man  so  to  do,  he  maintained  the  thesis 
that  the  ultimate  truth  of  religion  is  a  common 
constituent  in  all  creeds  (apart  from  the  influence 
of  deterioration)  and  not  the  exclusive  property  of 
revelation.  His  argument  may  be  very  briefly 
summarized  as  follows : 

The  point  of  departure  of  Tindal's  argument  is  found  in  a 
peculiar  conception  of  the  unchangeable  nature  of  God,  whence 
is  drawn  the  inference  that  He  will  treat  all  men  at  all  times 
alike  in  this  important  matter  of  supplying  them  with  the 
same  sufficient  means  of  recognizing  and  discharging  the  duties 
required  of  them.  Of  course,  a  racial  development  of  the  faculty 
of  conscience  was  an  idea  which  was  altogether  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  18th  century  Deist.  It  was  therefore  assumed 
that,  from  the  first,  man  was  in  possession  of  a  ready  means  of 
calculating  the  ultimate  consequences  of  his  actions  and  so  secur- 
ing his  future  happiness.  Only  perversity  could  lead  him  astray, 
because  God,  '  that  we  may  not  fail  to  be  as  happy  as  possible 
for  such  creatures  to  be,  has  made  our  acting  for  our  present, 
our  only  means  of  obtaining  our  future,  happiness '  (Christianity 
as  old,  etc.,  p.  15).  '  The  reason  of  things  or  the  relation  they 
have  to  each  other  teaches  us  our  duty  in  all  cases  whatever ' 
(p.  19).  Upon  this  primary  revelation  in  and  through  the 
reason  is  constructed  the  edifice  of  natural  religion.  In  making 
this  point  Tindal  was  able  to  avail  himself  of  the  opinions 
expressed  by  orthodox  writers.  Thus  he  quotes  from  Dr. 
Prideaux :  '  Let  what  is  written  in  all  the  books  of  the  New 
Testament  be  tried  by  that  which  is  the  touchstone  of  all 
religions,  I  mean  that  religion  of  nature  and  reason  which  God 
has  written  in  the  hearts  of  every  one  of  us  from  the  first 
creation.'  From  such  a  statement  it  was  not  unfair  to  deduce 
the  superiority  of  the  truths  of  natural  religion.  Tindal,  how- 
ever, went  beyond  this  and  argued  that  any  further  revelation 
must  of  necessity  be  mere  surplusage,  adding  nothing  of  im- 
portance to  man's  knowledge  about  either  faith  or  morals.  In 
his  opinion,  all  laws,  whether  the  laws  of  nations  or  of  particular 
countries,  are  only  the  law  of  nature  adapted  and  accommo- 
dated to  circumstances  :  ■  nor  can  religion,  even  in  relation  to 
the  worship  of  God,  as  it  is  a  reasonable  service,  be  anything 
but  what  necessarily  flows  from  the  consideration  of  God  and 
His  creatures '  (p.  63). 

The  religion  of  nature  is  represented  as  possessing  a  perfec- 
tion so  complete  that  revelation  can  add  nothing  to  it,  nor  take 
anything  from  it.  True  religion,  whether  externally  or  in- 
ternally revealed,  must  always  be  identically  the  same  in  its 
contents,  and  this  identity  will  exhibit  itself  alike  in  doctrine  and 
in  precept.  The  ethical  teaching  of  revelation  cannot,  in  fact, 
be  superior  to  that  of  nature,  because  no  positive  command  can 
be  considered  obligatory  unless  the  reason  for  it  be  perceived, 
in  which  case  it  is  equally  obligatory  on  the  grounds  of  natural 
religion  (cf.  p.  70).  Indeed,  to  suppose  anything  which  is 
merely  positive  in  the  sense  of  being  undemonstrable  by  reason 
to  be  a  necessary  ingredient  of  true  religion,  is  inconsistent 
with  the  good  of  man  and  with  the  honour  of  God  (p.  141). 

Thepractical  conclusion  of  the  argument  is  presented  in  the 
followingsentence  :  '  Nothing  can  be  requisite  to  discover  true 
Christianity  and  to  preserve  it  in  its  native  purity  free  from  all 
superstition,  but  after  a  strict  scrutiny  to  admit  nothing  to 
belong  to  it  except  what  our  reason  tells  us  is  worthy  of  having 
God  for  its  author.  And  if  it  be  evident  that  we  can't  discern 
whether  any  instituted  religion  contains  everything  worthy, 
and  nothing  unworthy,  of  a  Divine  original,  except  we  can 
antecedently  by  our  reason  discern  what  is  or  is  not  worthy  of 
having  God  for  its  author,  it  necessarily  follows  that  natural 
and  revealed  religion  can't,  differ,  because  what  reason  shows  to 
be  worthy  of  having  God  for  its  author  must  belong  to  natural 


religion,  and  whatever  reason  tells  us  is  unworthy  of  having 
God  for  its  author  can  never  belong  to  the  true  revealed  religion ' 
(p.  220).  Into  this  single  dilemma  is  compressed  the  quint- 
essence of  Deism. 

At  many  points  in  the  above  argument  it  would 
have  been  possible  to  intervene,  had  it  been  in 
accordance  with  the  design  of  this  article  to  find 
particular  answers  to  particular  Deistic  contentions. 
But  no  good  purpose  would  be  served  by  thus 
taking  part  in  an  obsolete  controversy.  It  will, 
however,  be  useful  now  to  point  out  some  general 
weaknesses,  which  are  not  peculiar  to  Tindal,  but 
are  integral  parts  of  the  Deistic  scheme  of  religions 
philosophy. 

{a)  In  the  first  place,  it  will  be  noticed  that  every 
religious  truth  is  measured  against  the  standard  of 
an  imaginary  Golden  Age.  Whatever  truth  Chris- 
tianity possesses  it  retains  from  an  original  revela- 
tion to  human  reason,  co-eval  with  the  Creation. 
But  in  Deistic  literature  references  of  this  kind  to 
the  beginning  of  the  world  must  be  interpreted  in 
a  conventional  rather  than  in  any  literal  sense. 
For,  though  the  Deists  professed  to  look  to  the  far 
past,  their  eyes  were,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  riveted 
on  the  present.  It  was  the  reason  of  their  own  day 
to  which  they  appealed.  Not  until  later  was  any 
attempt  made  to  discover  by  historical  methods  of 
examination  what  the  earlier  intellectual  and 
moral  condition  of  the  human  race  had  actually 
been. 

(i)  Secondly,  it  is  remarkable  how,  in  estimating 
the  value  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  distinguish- 
ing between  its  truths  and  its  errors,  the  Deist 
maintains  a  consistent  silence  with  regard  to  the 
Person  of  its  Founder.  He  has  practically  nothing 
to  say  about  the  present  operation  of  the  influence 
of  Christ  in  the  world.  And  even  stranger  than 
his  silence  is  his  apparently  complete  unconscious- 
ness that  the  omission  of  so  fundamental  a  con- 
sideration might  vitiate  his  results.  So  oblivious 
were  the  Deists,  and  many  of  their  orthodox 
opponents  likewise,  of  the  mystical  elements  in 
Christianity,  that  the  very  conception  of  a  personal 
union  between  the  believer  and  Christ  would  have 
been  forthwith  dismissed  as  ■  enthusiastic,'  and  to 
the  reproach  of  enthusiasm  the  temper  of  the  age 
was  morbidly  sensitive. 

(c)  Thirdly,  a  kind  of  supercilious  superiority  is 
assumed  whenever  the  question  of  miracles  arises. 
The  Biblical  records  are  not  rejected  on  a  priori 
grounds  as  in  themselves  impossible.  Abstract 
metaphysical  arguments  have  strangely  little  in- 
fluence upon  the  course  of  the  Deistic  controversy. 
But,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  Deist,  miracles 
were  beneath  the  notice  of  the  man  who  claimed  to 
be  guided  by  his  reason  only.  At  best  they  might 
serve  to  arrest  the  attention  of  the  vulgar  herd. 
Religion  being  regarded  as  essentially  the  practice 
of  duties,  miracles  were  superfluous.  For  '  duties 
neither  need,  nor  can  receive,  any  stronger  proof 
from  miracles  than  what  they  have  already  from 
the  evidence  of  right  reason '  (p.  374). 

(d)  Lastly,  Tindal,  like  other  Deists,  exhibits  an 
extraordinary  incapacity  to  estimate  fairly  the 
strength  of  evil  tendencies  in  human  nature.  It 
seemed  to  them  as  though  all  would  be  well  if 
only  some  artificial  obstacles  in  the  way  of  moral 
progress  could  be  removed.  The  adoption  of  the 
principle  of  Latitudinarianism — the  universal  re- 
cognition of  sincerity  as  the  one  and  only  thing 
needful — would  not  only  put  an  end  to  all  persecu- 
tion, but  would  set  free  an  amount  of  moral  energy 
sufficient  to  regenerate  the  world.  In  Tindal's  own 
words,  '  this  principle,  and  this  alone,  would  cause 
universal  love  and  benevolence  among  the  whole 
race  of  mankind ;  and,  did  it  prevail,  must  soon 
produce  a  new  and  glorious  face  of  things,  or,  in 
Scripture  phrase,  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth ' 


DEISM 


637 


(p.  413).  Verily,  this  was  a  flimsy  optimism,  out 
of  all  relation  with  the  stern  facts  of  the  world's 
condition. 

The  time  has  now  come  to  pass  on  to  the  con- 
sideration of  the  last  stage  of  the  controversy, 
when  the  pivot  of  the  dispute  had  become  the 
question  of  prophecy  and  miracle.  It  was  the 
Beginning  of  the  end,  and  yet,  when  the  current 
of  controversy  first  turned  into  this  channel,  the 

Eublic  excitement  rose  to  a  higher  pitch  than  it 
ad  hitherto  reached.  Nor  is  it  difficult  to  dis- 
cover the  explanation  of  this  immediate  increase 
of  interest.  Up  to  this  point  the  controversy, 
though  not  very  profound,  had  yet  concerned  itself 
in  some  measure  with  the  first  principles  of  religious 
philosophy.  In  so  doing  it  had  moved  in  a  region 
where  the  mind  of  the  nation  did  not  follow  freely 
or  with  comfort.  But  now,  in  the  place  of  these 
recondite  and  elusive  questions  concerning  the 
adequacy  or  insufficiency  of  human  reason,  far 
plainer  issues  were  raised  that  lay  seemingly  well 
within  the  compass  of  the  ordinary  understanding. 
Was  the  fulfilment  of  prophecy  a  fact  or  a  de- 
lusion? Did  the  Resurrection  of  Christ  really 
occur,  or  was  it  a  fable  easily  explicable  upon  the 
supposition  of  enthusiasm  or  fraud  on  the  part  of 
the  witnesses?  Here  were  plain  alternatives  on 
which  the  book-writers  and  the  pamphleteers  could 
join  issue.  They  hastened  to  avail  themselves  of 
the  opportunity. 

Notice  has  already  been  taken  ol  the  fact  that  Collins'  book, 
A  Discourse  of  the  Grounds  and  Reasons  of  the  Christian 
Religion,  had  contained  criticism  with  regard  to  the  commonly 
received  views  as  to  prophecy  and  miracle.  Professing  (though 
with  doubtful  sincerity)  to  write  in  the  interests  of  Christianity, 
he  sought  to  convict  earlier  apologists  of  a  serious  misrepresent- 
ation of  the  true  relation  between  prophecy  and  fulfilment. 
The  object  of  his  attack  was  the  detailed  correspondence  be- 
tween the  two ;  and  he  endeavoured  to  prove  the  impossibility 
of  maintaining  the  old  position,  in  the  light  of  a  sound  histori- 
cal criticism  of  the  prophecies.  Historically  the  predictions 
did  not  bear  the  meaning  which  the  apologists  required.  If, 
then,  the  argument  from  correspondence  were  to  be  preserved, 
it  could  only  be  by  giving  to  the  prophecies  in  question  a 
mystical  and  allegorical  interpretation.  Such,  Collins  argued, 
had  in  fact  been  the  method  of  procedure  adopted  by  the 
writers  of  the  NT.  In  accordance  with  this  general  attitude 
towards  the  OT,  he  defined  Christianity  as  a  mystical  Judaism. 
It  was  a  plausible  phrase,  but  not  likely  to  commend  Chris- 
tianity to  an  age  which  regarded  mysticism  with  a  mixture  of 
contempt  and  dislike. 

This  novel  representation  of  the  relation  between  Judaism 
and  Christianity  met  with  an  unfavourable  reception.  For  the 
most  part  it  waB  vehemently  repudiated  by  the  defenders  of 
orthodoxy.  But,  weak  as  Collins'  arguments  may  have  been, 
and  easily  riddled  by  the  criticisms  of  better  scholars  than  him- 
self, it  must  be  admitted  that  his  attack  on  the  traditional  and 
mechanical  conception  of  prophecy  gave  an  impetus  to  a  fruit- 
ful attempt  at  an  investigation  of  the  historical  conditions  out 
of  which  the  writings  of  the  OT  took  their  rise.  It  was,  in  fact, 
an  anticipation,  however  poorly  equipped  with  linguistic  and 
archaeological  knowledge,  of  the  Biblical  criticism  which  has 
been  rich  in  results  during  the  last  half  century. 

Naturally  enough,  the  attempt  to  apply  the  allegorical  method 
of  interpretation  was  extended  from  prophecy  to  miracle.  The 
best  known  name  in  connexion  with  this  further  development 
of  the  controversy  is  that  of  Woolston.  It  is  strange  that 
writings  which  should  properly  have  been  disregarded  as  the 
ravings  of  a  disordered  mind  should  have  received  the  serious 
attention  which  was  actually  accorded  them.  If  the  author 
could  be  accounted  responsible,  then  there  would  be  no  possible 
defence  for  the  tone  and  manner  of  his  Discourses  on  the 
Miracles  of  our  Saviour  (1727-29).  He  has  recourse  to  sugges- 
tions and  insinuations  which  are  no  less  absurd  than  offensive 
to  reverent  ears.  Every  miracle,  including  that  of  the  Resur- 
rection, is  explained  away  as  the  result  of  a  mistake  or  conscious 
fraud.  An  utterly  impossible  attempt  is  made  to  prove  by 
quotations  from  the  early  Christian  Fathers  that  they  were 
wholly  regardless  of  positive  historical  facts,  and  found  in  the 
Gospels  nothing  but  an  emblematic  representation  of  the 
mystical  life  of  Christ  in  the  souls  of  men.  That  Woolston  was 
not  wholly  responsible  for  what  he  said,  or  for  his  manner  of 
saying  it,  is  the  obvious  excuse  for  the  breaches  of  propriety  of 
which  he  is  guilty.  In  his  own  day,  however,  the  excuse  was 
not  allowed.  The  law  was  set  in  motion  against  him,  and  he 
was  sent  to  prison. 

No  particular  theological  merit  belongs  to  the  defences  of  the 
miraculous  element  in  the  Gospels  which  were  called  forth  by 
the  attacks  of  Woolston  and  others.  Sherlock's  Tryal  of  the 
Witnesses  of  the  Resurrection  of  Jesus  (1729)  is  a  characteristic 
Bpecimen  of  the  kind  of  answer  which  found  favour  at  the  time, 


and  was  comfortably  accepted  as  conclusive.  An  elaborate 
parody  of  legal  forms  \b  employed  in  order  to  give  life  to  the 
argument.  Unquestionably  many  good  points  are  made,  the 
value  of  the  concurrent  testimony  of  the  Apostles  is  exhibited, 
and  their  unimpeachable  character  as  witnesses  vigorously 
upheld.  But,  while  considerable  technical  skill  is  displayed, 
the  vital  warmth  of  a  genuine  spirituality  has  given  place  to  a 
frigid  cleverness. 

At  the  stage  now  reached  in  our  review  of  the 
history  of  Deism  little  vitality  remained  in  the 
ideas  which  underlay  the  movement.  A  process  of 
disintegration  had  set  in.  Deistic  writers  were  no 
longer  inspired  by  any  genuine  impetus  of  con- 
viction, nor  was  the  general  public  in  a  mood  to 
give  as  much  interested  attention  as  heretofore. 
The  controversy  was  perishing  of  inanition,  and 
had  almost  collapsed  through  the  operation  of  these 
internal  causes.  The  end,  however,  was  hastened 
by  a  damaging  blow  delivered  from  without  by 
one  who  was  equally  out  of  sympathy  with  either 
side.  Hume's  philosophy,  though  it  made  little 
stir  at  the  time,  was  in  its  effects  fatal  to  the  con- 
tinuance of  Deism.  A  movement  which  had  been 
initiated  under  the  influence  of  the  ideas  of  Locke 
could  not  survive  the  transformation  which  Locke's 
philosophy  underwent  in  the  hands  of  Hume.  This 
is  a  circumstance  which  gives  confirmation  to  the 
view  that  the  inner  meaning  of  Deism  is  best 
understood  in  relation  to  the  development  of  philo- 
sophical, rather  than  of  religious,  ideas.  It  was 
because  Deism  had  arisen  through  the  application 
of  Locke's  philosophy  to  the  subject-matter  of 
religion  that  its  position  ceased  to  be  tenable,  so 
soon  as  that  philosophy  was  found  to  issue  in 
general  scepticism.  A  little  examination  of  the 
nature  of  Hume's  criticism  of  religious  belief  will 
show  how  completely  he  cut  away  the  foundations 
on  which  the  Deists  had  built. 

The  Deists,  as  we  have  seen,  had  begun  by  defending  the 
pre-eminence  of  Christianity  on  the  ground  that  it  and  it  alone 
corresponded  with  the  true  religion  of  nature ;  but,  gradually 
becoming  more  conscious  of  their  divergence  from  historic 
Christianity,  they  transformed  themselves  into  the  champions  of 
natural,  as  opposed  to  revealed,  religion.  And  natural  religion 
meant  for  them  that  religion  which  any  man  at  any  time  from 
the  beginning  of  the  world  was  capable  of  discovering  for 
himself  through  the  exercise  of  his  own  individual  reason.  The 
existence  of  a  religion  '  as  old  as  the  Creation '  was  their  funda- 
mental assumption.  It  was  precisely  this  assumption  which 
collapsed  as  soon  as  it  was  criticized  in  the  light  of  Locke's  own 
principles  concerning  the  gradual  acquisition  of  knowledge. 
Hume  pointed  out  that  the  religion  of  primitive  man,  so  far 
from  consisting  of  a  few  pure,  elevated,  and  incontrovertible 
truths,  must  have  been  a  medley  of  crude  beliefs  and  puerile 
superstitions.  '  It  seems  certain  that,  according  to  the  natural 
progress  of  human  thought,  the  ignorant  multitude  must  first 
entertain  some  grovelling  and  familiar  notion  of  superior 
powers  before  they  stretch  their  conception  to  that  perfect 
being  who  bestowed  order  on  the  whole  frame  of  nature' 
(Works,  iv.  421). 

Along  these  lines  Hume  developed  his  Natural  History  of 
Religion  (1767).  He  exhibited  the  rude  beginnings  of  religious 
belief  in  a  barbarous  type  of  polytheism,  and  sought  to  provide 
an  explanation  of  the  mode  in  which  purely  natural  influences, 
as  distinct  from  supernatural  revelation,  transformed  this 
primitive  faith  into  something  less  crude  and  less  full  of  patent 
absurdities.  Such  explanations  afford  convenient  cover  for 
the  insinuation  that  the  final  product  possesses  no  real 
superiority  over  the  rude  beginnings,  being  equally  human  in 
origin,  insecure  in  its  foundations,  and  destitute  of  all  reasonable 
proof. 

Hume's  irony  serves  as  a  very  thin  disguise  for  his  real 
sentiments.  The  declaration  of  belief  in  the  existence  of  God, 
with  which  he  opens  his  dissertation,  is  couched  in  language 
that  would  be  appropriate  in  any  Deistic  treatise ;  but  its 
insincerity  is  obvious.  With  the  manifest  purpose  of  under- 
mining the  common  belief  in  God,  he  attributes  its  prevalence 
to  the  operation  of  irrational  causes.  '  The  doctrine  of  one 
supreme  Deity,  the  author  of  nature,  is  very  ancient,  has  spread 
itself  over  great  and  populous  nations,  and  among  them  has 
been  embraced  by  all  ranks  and  conditions  of  men  ;  but  whoever 
thinks  that  it  has  owed  its  success  to  the  prevalent  force  of  those 
invincible  reasons  on  which  it  is  undoubtedly  founded,  would 
Bhow  himself  little  acquainted  with  the  ignorance  and  stupidity 
of  the  people,  and  their  prejudice  in  favour  of  their  particular 
superstitions '  (iv.  446).  At  the  conclusion  of  the  treatise,  dis- 
carding even  this  slight  veil  of  sarcasm,  and  declaring  the  whole 
question  to  be  a  r  (idle,  an  enigma,  an  inexplicable  mystery,  he 
advocates  an  escape  from  the  contentions  of  discordant  super- 
stitions into  the  calm  regions  of  philosophy.  In  this  way  Hume 
makes  short  work  of  the  pure  original  religion  by  which  the 
Deists  set  such  store.  Not  only  had  he  the  best  of  the  argument 


638 


DEISM 


in  contending  for  the  probability  of  progress  from  crude  to 
refined  types  of  religion,  but,  in  the  face  of  the  evidence  which 
it  was  easy  for  him  to  produce  with  regard  to  the  condition  of 
religion  in  earlier  times  and  among  the  uncivilized  nations  of 
the  world,  it  was  impossible  for  the  fiction  of  a  religion  as  old 
as  the  Creation  to  maintain  itself. 

In  passing  it  should  be  noticed  that  the  strength  and  the 
weakness  of  Hume's  essay  on  '  Miracles '  can  be  properly  appreci- 
ated only  when  it  is  remembered  that,  throughout  the  Deistic 
controversy,  miracle  was  treated  as  the  chief  evidence  of  the 
Divine  authorship  of  a  revelation.  From  this  point  of  view,  the 
more  startling  the  event  the  greater  will  be  the  stupor  which 
it  produces,  and  the  higher  its  value  as  a  credential.  Uncon- 
scious of  the  dangers  to  faith  involved  in  their  procedure,  the 
apologists  degraded  miracle  to  the  level  of  portent.  It  was  a 
blunder  of  which  Hume  was  quick  to  take  advantage.  If  Deist 
and  apologist  alike  were  willing  to  treat  miracle  as  a  naked 
sign  of  arbitrary  power,  it  was  not  for  the  common  enemy  of 
Deism  and  Christianity  to  set  them  right.  He  was  only  taking 
up  the  ordinary  position  of  the  time  when  he  defined  miracle  as 
a  violation  of  nature ;  and,  when  it  is  so  regarded,  with  every 
adequate  cause  for  its  occurrence  eliminated  from  consideration, 
it  is  undeniably  plausible  to  contend  that  no  amount  of  external 
evidence  can  outweigh  the  inherent  improbability. 

3.  Writers  with  relations  to  Deism,  but  not 
properly  Deists. — Some  writers,  commonly  reck- 
oned among  the  Deists,  have  been  intentionally 
passed  over  in  silence.  It  will  be  well,  therefore, 
to  add  a  few  words  of  explanation  why  this  course 
has  been  adopted.  During  the  period  under  review, 
while  the  Deists  were  the  most  forward  and  active 
antagonists  of  orthodoxy,  it  was  not  unnatural 
that  any  writer  who  maintained  unorthodox 
opinions  should  be  reckoned  as  belonging  to  their 
camp.  Yet  obviously  the  classification  is  likely 
in  some  places  to  be  inexact.  It  was  so,  for 
example,  in  the  case  of  Lord  Shaftesbury,  the 
author  of  Characteristics  (1711).  It  is  no  doubt 
true  that  there  are  certain  points  which  he  and 
the  Deists  have  in  common,  but  the  superficial 
resemblances  are  more  than  counterbalanced  by 
fundamental  differences.  He  displays  the  same 
antipathy  to  priests,  and  employs  the  same  kind 
of  invective  against  the  poisonous  influence  of 
superstition  ;  but,  while  he  thus  directs  his  attack 
upon  the  same  objective,  the  principles  on  which 
he  bases  his  criticisms  are  very  far  from  being 
those  of  the  Deists.  Their  characteristic  concep- 
tion of  a  law  of  nature  imposed  upon  His  creatures 
by  the  Creator,  and  enforced  by  means  of  rewards 
and  punishments,  is  absolutely  alien  from  his 
system  of  thought.  For  him  the  ethical  standard 
was  determined  by  the  dictates  of  an  intuitive 
moral  faculty,  forming  part  of  the  essential  endow- 
ment of  human  nature.  Of  this  moral  faculty 
the  effectiveness  would  indeed  be  reinforced  by 
theistic  belief,  but  is  not  dependent  on  it,  whereas 
in  the  Deistic  system  the  sense  of  moral  obligation 
is  derived  from  the  recognition  by  man  of  his 
relation  to  his  Maker. 

Since  the  existence  of  God  was  of  comparatively  little  moment 
in  Lord  Shaftesbury's  system,  he  cannot  properly  be  styled  a 
Deist ;  and  in  some  ways  he  exhibited  a  positive  antagonism 
to  their  mode  of  thought.  For  example,  heraised  a  much  needed 
protest  against  the  undue  prominence  given  to  hedonistic  con- 
siderations by  both  parties  in  the  controversy.  He  found  an 
appropriate  object  for  his  wit  in  exposing  the  shallowness  of 
the  conception  by  which  ethics  was  degraded  into  an  elaborate 
calculation  of  pains  and  pleasures.  The  pointed  weapon  of 
ridicule  is  effectively  used  in  his  hands.  Unfortunately,  in  his 
references  to  religion  his  satire  frequently  degenerates  into  a 
sneer.  The  defenders  of  religion  winced  under  bis  sarcasms, 
and  retaliated  by  calling  him  a  Deist.  But  there  was  little 
justification  for  the  charge.  The  word  '  Deism '  would  cease  to 
have  any  definite  connotation  if  it  were  made  to  cover  systems 
so  radically  divergent  as  those  of  Shaftesbury  and  Tindal. 

If  there  is  little  justification  for  ranking 
Shaftesbury  among  the  Deists,  there  is  even  less 
for  assigning  a  writer  like  Mandeville  to  their 
company.  The  Deist  may  not  have  been  remark- 
able for  any  particular  moral  excellence,  but  at  least 
he  was  eminently  respectable.  There  is  no  reason 
to  question  the  sincerity  of  his  desire  to  further 
the  cause  of  morality,  and  to  lend  his  aid  in  raising 
a  barrier  against  the  encroaching  tide  of  moral 
laxity.  Such  was  not  the  purpose  of  Mandeville. 
lie  is  cynical  enough  to  set  out  on  the  title-page 


of  the  Fable  of  the  Bees  (1714)  the  thesis  that 
private  vices  are  public  benefits,  and  in  his  opening 
inquiry  into  the  nature  of  moral  virtue  adopts  the 
conclusion  that  it  is  the  political  offspring  which 
Flattery  has  begot  upon  Pride.  Intrinsically  the 
book  is  as  worthless  as  it  is  paradoxical,  but  it 
raised  a  laugh,  and  its  sophistical  arguments  in 
favour  of  self-indulgence  ensured  its  popularity  in 
circles  where  every  moral  restraint  was  regarded 
with  contemptuous  indifference. 

Leland,  the  contemporary  historian  and  critic 
of  Deism,  devotes  as  much  as  a  third  of  his  work 
on  the  Deistical  writers  to  a  consideration  of  the 
works  of  Lord  Bolingbroke.  It  is  a  clear  indica- 
tion of  the  high  importance  which  was  at  the  time 
attached  to  this  attack  on  the  claims  of  revelation. 
When  Leland  wrote,  Bolingbroke's  collected  writ- 
ings (with  Life  by  D.  Mallet),  of  which  the  one  here 
most  relevant  is  his  Letters  on  the  Study  and  Use 
of  History  (written  in  1738),  were  newly  published, 
having  been  issued  posthumously  in  the  year  1754. 
The  effect  of  the  book,  however,  was  almost  nil, 
and  Dr.  Johnson's  sentence,  in  which  he  con- 
temptuously described  it  as  a  blunderbuss  which 
the  author  had  not  resolution  enough  to  fire  off 
in  his  lifetime,  is  a  more  accurate  appraisement 
of  it  than  Leland's  elaborate  criticism.  The  old 
sneers  at  priestcraft,  the  old  arguments  in  favour 
of  a  purely  rational  religion,  re-appear.  But 
there  was  no  new  point  to  make  ;  and  Deism 
was  too  far  gone  in  decay  to  be  revived  even  by 
Lord  Bolingbroke's  name  and  his  'five  pompous 
volumes.'  In  England,  Deism  was  to  all  intents 
and  purposes  defunct,  though  about  this  time 
a  kindred  movement  on  the  other  side-  of  the 
Channel  was  exhibiting  fresh  vitality  under  new 
forms. 

4.  The  foreign  movement. — Deism  such  as  we 
have  been  describing  was  so  native  a  product  of 
English  thought,  with  a  form  so  markedly  deter- 
mined alike  by  the  strength  and  the  weakness  of 
the  English  mind,  that  its  transplantation  to  a 
foreign  soil  could  not  be  accomplished  without  the 
most  profound  modification  of  its  character.  When 
the  ideas  to  which  the  English  Deists  had  first 
given  expression  were  taken  up  by  French 
exponents,  new  elements  were  introduced  which 
gave  to  the  resultant  product  a  very  different 
quality.  Thus,  what  had  been  Deism  in  England 
became  in  France  another  movement,  with  a 
character  and  history  of  its  own,  which  cannot 
properly  be  handled  in  this  article.  At  the  same 
time  the  history  of  Deism  is  not  complete  unless 
account  be  taken  of  the  fact  that  it  is  the  parent 
stock  from  which  sprang  the  French  movement  of 
reaction  against  traditional  belief. 

It  is  significant  that  both  Voltaire  (t  1778)  and 
Rousseau  were  largely  indebted  to  English  sources 
for  their  inspiration.  During  the  years  which  the 
former  passed  in  England  (1726-1729),  he  gathered 
impressions  which  he  afterwards  systematized  and 
elaborated  into  a  philosophy  of  religion.  As  a 
friend  of  Lord  Bolingbroke  he  naturally  came  into 
close  contact  with  men  who,  whether  secretly 
or  openly,  sympathized  with  the  Deists.  The 
ideas  which  he  derived  from  this  intercourse  were 
in  keeping  with  the  bent  of  his  mind.  Moreover, 
his  peculiar  abilities  enabled  him  to  give  them 
a  keener  edge  and  a  wider  range  than  they  had 
possessed  in  the  hands  of  the  English  writers.  In 
France  the  conceptions  characteristic  of  Deism 
found  a  soil  more  favourable  to  their  rapid  de- 
velopment than  England  had  ever  afforded  them. 
The  logical  French  mind,  impatient  of  compromise 
and  qualification,  insisted  rigidly  on  the  necessary 
consequences  of  abstract  principles,  where  English 
conclusions  had  been  influenced  by  numberless 
practical  considerations.    .And,  further,  the  con- 


DEISM 


539 


ditions  of  social,  political,  and  ecclesiastical  life  in 
France  were  such  as  to  accentuate  the  criticisms  of 
those  who  were  opposed  in  spirit  to  the  prevailing 
order.  Resentment  against  repression  manifested 
itself  in  a  sharper  opposition  to  the  unbending 
attitude  of  authority.  In  proportion  as  an  external 
submission  to  rule  was  enforced,  so  was  an  internal 
passion  for  revolt  stimulated,  especially  in  the 
domain  of  religious  thought.  So  marked  was  the 
opposition  between  the  old  and  the  new  points 
of  view,  that  Deism  became  almost  at  once  identi- 
fied with  an  anti-ecclesiastical  movement.  Instead 
of  aiming  at  a  transformation  of  the  old  theology 
into  another  pattern,  as  had  been  the  object  of  the 
earlier  English  Deists,  the  French  representatives 
of  the  movement  advocated  a  general  repudiation 
of  theology  and  the  substitution  of  an  undogmatic 
religion  in  place  of  Roman  Catholicism.  To  this 
end  Voltaire  applied  the  weapons  of  his  caustic 
satire,  and  the  Encyclopaedists  added  the  weight 
of  their  accumulated  knowledge.  Indeed,  Diderot 
(t  1784)  and  his  school  represent  a  further  stage  in 
the  downward  transition  from  Deism  towards 
Materialism.  With  him  even  that  residue  of 
natural  religion  which  Voltaire  would  have  retained 
became  a  mere  superfluity,  resting  on  no  secure 
foundation  of  reason,  and  therefore  destined  to 
disappear  before  the  advance  of  intellectual  en- 
lightenment.    See  art.  Encyclopedists. 

This  tendency  to  a  bare  Materialism  was  to 
some  extent  checked  by  the  influence  of  Rousseau 
(t  1778),  who  was  at  once  the  product  and  the 
champion  of  a  reaction  against  the  stiffness  and 
coldness  of  a  cramped  Rationalism.  In  the  fact 
that  he  thus  represented  the  protest  of  common 
sense  against  the  bare  negations  of  Materialism  is 
to  be  found  the  explanation  of  his  wide  popularity. 
But  the  effect  which  he  produced  must  not  be  over- 
estimated. Whatever  may  have  been  the  result 
of  his  political  speculations  in  hastening  the  crisis 
of  the  Revolution,  his  influence  upon  religious 
thought  was  not  more  than  evanescent.  Though 
his  genius  galvanized  for  a  time  into  fresh  activity 
some  of  those  ideas  which  had  been  the  stock-in- 
trade  of  the  Deistic  writers,  he  could  not  restore 
to  them  the  real  vigour  of  life.  Deism  had  had 
its  day.  The  intellectual  opposition  to  the  super- 
natural element  in  Christianity  was  about  to 
assume  another  form.  A  new  criticism  and  a  new 
apologetic  were  destined  to  arise,  constructed  upon 
lines  determined  by  the  new  metaphysical  theories 
of  Kant. 

5.  Permanent  results. — Controversies  upon  which 
the  attention  of  thinking  men  has  been  focused 
can  neither  pass  away  without  leaving  some 
definite  mark  on  subsequent  theology,  nor  be 
appraised  at  their  proper  value  unless  the  character 
and  extent  of  their  permanent  results  be  taken 
into  account.  It  will  therefore  be  necessary  to 
ask  what  lasting  contribution  was  made  by  Deism 
to  English  theological  thought.  It  is  almost  a 
matter  of  surprise  to  find  on  examination  how 
comparatively  scanty  is  the  residuum  which  has 
stood  the  test  of  time.  But  something  no  doubt 
has  survived.  To  some  extent  the  Deists  were 
successful  in  establishing  their  principle  of  the 
appeal  to  human  reason,  even  while  in  their  own 
application  of  it  they  showed  little  skill  or  power 
of  discrimination.  It  is  noteworthy  that  they 
called  in,  as  arbiter  of  the  dispute,  the  common 
sense  of  the  ordinary  man,  and,  as  witness,  the 
trained  skill  of  the  expert.  Obviously,  the  critical 
questions  which  were  raised  could  not  be  settled 
without  thorough  investigation  by  men  who  had 
devoted  years  of  ss,udy  to  the  data  of  these  problems. 
A  new  class  of  Bible  students  arose  who  professed 
to  approach  theii  tasks  with  minds  entirely  un- 
biased by  any  dog  matic  considerations.      Whether 


they  were  as  free  from  prejudice  as  they  them- 
selves supposed,  is  open  to  question.  At  any  rate 
the  Deists  gave  an  impulse  to  Biblical  criticism, 
the  beneht  of  which  still  makes  itself  felt.  It 
has  not  been  forgotten  that  the  same  methods  of 
scientific  inquiry  must  be  applied  to  sacred  as 
to  profane  history.  What  has  now  become  a 
commonplace  of  theology  was  first  insisted  upon 
by  the  Deists.  That  they  should  have  led  the 
way  in  this  direction  is  so  much  to  their  credit. 

Again,  the  appeal  to  the  common  sense  of  those 
who  make  no  claim  to  any  professional  knowledge 
of  theology  has  remained  markedly  characteristic 
of  English  religion.  The  religious  public,  as  it  is 
called,  is  disinclined  to  divest  itself  of  responsibility 
by  seeking  shelter  behind  the  pronouncements  of 
authority.  Conscious  of  inability  itself  to  under- 
take in  detail  the  processes  of  criticism,  it  insists 
on  seeing  the  results  openly  displayed.  The  debate 
between  the  champions  of  tradition  and  of  innova- 
tion is  not  carried  on  behind  closed  doors,  but  in 
open  court.  The  public  desire  to  follow  the 
argument  and  form  for  themselves  an  intelligent 
estimate  of  the  issue.  This  feature  also  of  our 
religious  life  is  in  great  measure  the  outcome  of 
the  Deistic  movement. 

The  Deistic  controversy  left  no  more  important 
legacy  behind  it  than  the  apologetic  method  of  Bp. 
Butler  (t  1752).  The  Analogy  (1736)  may  always 
be  read  with  profit,  but  its  true  greatness  cannot 
be  rightly  appreciated  unless  the  argument  be 
viewed  in  its  proper  setting  as  an  answer  to  the 
Deistic  attack  on  Christianity.  What  calls  for 
remark  is  Butler's  careful  and  guarded  exposition 
of  the  principles  of  religious  evidence  in  opposition 
to  the  exaggerated  insistence  by  the  Deists  on 
certain  aspects  of  the  truth  and  their  correspond- 
ing neglect  of  other  equally  important  considera- 
tions. It  is  most  interesting  to  observe  how  free 
he  is  from  any  undue  bias  against  his  opponents' 
point  of  view,  how  far  he  is  ready  to  go  with  them, 
and  how  sincerely,  unhesitatingly,  and  fearlessly 
he  recognizes  the  validity  of  their  appeal  to  reason, 
while  brushing  aside  their  pretentious  claim  to  be 
the  only  '  Free-thinkers.'  It  is  just  because  he  is 
thus  frank  in  his  acknowledgment  of  the  ultimate 
authority  of  human  reason  that  he  is  able  to  insist 
with  effect  on  the  limitations  imposed  by  ignorance, 
inseparable  from  our  finite  condition.  He  did  an 
inestimable  service  to  religion  when  he  exposed 
with  relentless  logic  the  absurdity  of  the  claim 
that  all  things  in  revelation  should  be  made  trans- 
parently intelligible  to  the  human  mind.  It  was 
another  service  of  scarcely  less  value  when  he  made 
men  realize  that  revelation  consisted  ex  hypothesi 
of  a  scheme  composed  of  a  large  number  of  inter- 
related parts,  not  one  of  which  can  be  legitimately 
criticized  except  in  its  full  context.  These  were 
precisely  the  considerations  which  the  Deists  over- 
looked. If  they  have  now  become  the  truisms  of 
theology,  it  is  because  Butler  first  expounded  them 
as  the  necessary  corrective  to  the  crude  speculations 
of  Deism.     See,  further,  art.  Butler. 

An  allied  but  distinguishable  reaction  against 
the  temper  of  Deism  reveals  itself  in  the  idealistic 
philosophy  of  Bp.  Berkeley  (t  1753),  who,  like  his 
contemporary  Butler,  was  moved  to  indignation  at 
the  unintelligent  superficiality  of  the  prevalent 
unbelief.  To  him  it  appeared  that  the  decay  of 
faith  was  in  the  main  due  to  the  general  acceptance 
of  a  faulty  metaphysic,  inherited  from  Locke. 
The  Christian  verities  were  rejected  on  the  plea 
that  they  did  not  approve  themselves  to  the 
philosophic  intellect.  But  the  philosophers  were 
themselves  responsible  for  creating  unnecessary 
intellectual  difficulties.  It  was  they  who  had 
raised  the  dust,  through  which,  as  they  com- 
plained, they  could  not  see.    Berkeley  directed  his 


MO 


DEISM 


criticism  against  the  half-developed  Materialism 
which  was  the  orthodox  metaphysic  of  the  day. 
His  rejection  of  Locke's  conception  of  the  real 
existence  of  extended  matter  was  accounted 
paradoxical,  and  on  that  account  chiefly  attracted 
attention  both  favourable  and  unfavourable.  But 
it  is  sometimes  forgotten  that  this  Immaterialism 
of  Berkeley  was  only  part  of  his  system.  It  was 
the  foundation  on  which  he  built.  It  led  on  to  his 
conception  of  the  world  as  the  perpetual  manifesta- 
tion of  the  spiritual  presence  of  God.  Thus  he 
delivered  a  powerful  protest  against  the  view  that 
the  evidence  for  the  existence  of  God  can  be 
disclosed  only  through  a  long  and  intricate  process 
of  inference.  In  opposition  to  the  commonly 
accepted  cold  mechanical  outlook  on  the  universe, 
he  preached  the  doctrine  of  a  continuous  communi- 
cation between  the  Divine  and  the  human  spirit 
through  the  medium  of  sensible  experience.  To 
him  the  material  world  was  the  language  of  God 
addressed  to  the  spiritual  ear,  and  charged  with  an 
infinite  significance  for  those  who  would  address 
themselves  to  the  task  of  its  interpretation.  It 
was  too  high  a  conception  to  commend  itself  to  the 
temper  of  the  18th  century.  Nevertheless,  the 
impulse  towards  a  religious  idealism  which  Berkeley 
initiated  has  not  been  altogether  without  effect. 
His  teaching,  which  originated  in  opposition  to 
Deism,  has  remained  to  this  day  part  of  our 
theological  heritage.    See,  further,  art.  Berkeley. 

The  religious  protest  against  Deism  which  found 
expression  in  the  writings  of  Butler  and  Berkeley 
was  carried  further  by  Law  and  Wesley,  but  with 
a  characteristic  difference.  The  two  bishops  had 
met  the  Deists  on  the  field  of  intellectual  reason- 
ing. This  was  not  the  method  which  commended 
itself  to  the  judgment  of  the  mystic  and  of  the 
revivalist.  They  appealed  from  the  intellect  to 
the  verdict  of  the  religious  consciousness.  Perhaps 
the  statement  should  be  made  with  some  qualifica- 
tion with  respect  to  Law,  since  in  the  treatise 
which  he  composed  against  Tindal  his  mysticism 
does  not  yet  appear. 

In  the  Case  of  Reason  (1731),  Law  appealed  without  scruple 
to  the  logic  of  intellect ;  moreover,  he  possessed  the  power  of 
marshalling  hia  arguments  with  skill  and  clothing  them  in  apt 
language.  Before  the  inscrutable  mystery  of  the  Infinite  he 
prostrated  himself  in  silent  submission,  and  with  a  feeling  of 
profound  reverence  yielded  a  willing  obedience  to  the  message 
of  revelation.  It  is  strange  to  find  Law  at  this  time  referring 
to  miracles  as  the  proof  of  revelation.  A  little  later  he  discovered 
a  method  of  statement  more  congenial  to  his  natural  tempera- 
ment. In  the  place  of  controversial  argument  he  substituted 
the  positive  affirmations  of  the  mystic's  experience.  In  opposi- 
tion to  Tindal  he  had  taken  a  low  view  of  the  range  of  human 
reason,  and  this  position  he  consistently  maintained,  but  in  the 
writings  of  the  mystics  he  found  it  stated  that  man  possessed 
a  faculty  of  spiritual  intuition  incomparably  more  efficacious 
than  reason  in  the  attainment  of  Divine  wisdom.  In  Christian 
mysticism,  Law  discovered  a  system  which  afforded  satisfac- 
tion to  his  religious  instincts  ;  and  he  strove  to  influence  others 
in  the  same  direction,  by  means  of  writings  which  are  a  strange 
compound  of  deep  spiritual  insight  and  fanciful  imaginations. 
But  in  the  18th  cent,  the  message  of  the  mystic  was  vox  clainantis 
in  deserio.  The  seed  fell  on  barren  ground,  where  it  had  no 
opportunity  of  germinating. 

Law  founded  no  school  of  English  mysticism. 
Though  there  were  many  who,  like  himself,  recoiled 
from  the  irreligiousness  of  Deism,  there  were  few 
ready  to  follow  whither  he  led  the  way.  He  was 
before  his  time,  and  has  perhaps  more  disciples  at 
the  present  day  than  he  had  in  his  own  lifetime. 

The  same  recoil  from  Deism,  but  under  yet  an- 
other aspect,  is  illustrated  by  the  life  and  work  of 
John  'Wesley  (t  1791).  Profoundly  influenced  by 
Law's  example  and  ethical  teaching,  he  differed 
widely  from  him  in'  temperament,  and  was  alike 
ignorant  and  impatient  of  the  mystical  tendencies 
to  which  the  older  man  resigned  himself.  Em- 
phatically a  man  of  action,  he  gave  expression  to 
the  protest  of  the  practical  religious  consciousness 
against  the  religious  impotence  of  Kationalism. 
It  mattered  little  whether  the  Rationalism  was  of 


the  type  preached  by  Tillotson  or  of  that  preached 
by  Tindal.  In  either  case  it  had  proved  miserably 
ineffective  in  stemming  the  tide  of  infidelity  and 
immorality.  Wesley  came  forward  at  the  precise 
moment  when  there  was  a  wide-spread  and  despair- 
ing consciousness  of  the  utter  sterility  of  mere 
argument  about  religion.  Boldly  discarding  the 
discredited  appeal  to  the  intellect,  he  addressed 
himself  to  the  ineradicable  religious  instincts  of 
mankind,  their  sense  of  sin,  their  longing  for 
forgiveness,  the  hopeless  unrest  of  the  soul  to 
which  no  vision  of  God  has  come.  In  pressing 
home  his  appeal  he  touched  the  hearts  of  multitudes 
by  means  of  those  very  Christian  doctrines  which 
the  Deists  had  found  too  irrational  for  acceptance, 
and  had  made  the  butt  of  their  shallow  satire. 
The  fall  of  man,  the  fact  and  the  malignant 
influence  of  original  sin,  the  offer  of  redemption, 
the  mystery  of  the  Atonement — these  were  the 
topics  handled  by  the  preacher  round  whom  the 
crowds  gathered  in  their  thousands.  There  could 
not  have  been  a  more  complete  repudiation  of  the 
whole  temper  of  which  Deism  was  the  expression. 
The  stale  arguments  were  allowed  to  drop  into 
oblivion.  There  was  a  return  to  older  methods  of 
less  intellectual  pretensions.  The  proof  of  religion 
was  sought  no  longer  in  the  appeal  to  natural 
reason,  but  in  the  letter  of  Scripture  and  in  the 
experience  of  daily  life. 

Thus  the  rise  of  Wesleyanism  coincided  with 
the  extinction  of  Deism.  Not  that  Deism  dis- 
appeared because  the  problems  which  it  had  raised 
had  received  final  and  conclusive  answers.  On  the 
contrary,  many  of  these  problems  involve  mysteries 
which,  it  is  probable,  will  always  remain  inscrut- 
able to  the  finite  mind.  It  is  no  discredit  to  the 
apologists  of  the  18th  cent,  that  in  such  cases  they 
had  no  solution  to  offer.  They  had  done  all  that 
could  be  expected  of  them.  They  had  shown  the 
alternative  creed  of  the  Deist  to  be  weighted  with 
difficulties  as  great  as  those  which  he  hoped  to 
escape  by  his  rejection  of  Christianity.  They  had 
pointed  to  a  way  of  reconciliation  between  the 
rights  of  reason  and  the  claims  of  faith.  It  was 
not  until  this  work  had  been  accomplished  that 
the  Evangelical  Revival  could  exhibit  the  un- 
diminished spiritual  energy  latent  in  authoritative 
and  traditional  religion.  Then  began  another 
stage  of  religious  history,  a  period  even  more 
distracted  with  controversy  than  that  which  we 
have  been  passing  in  review.  But  the  struggle 
was  over  new  issues.     Deism  was  forgotten. 

II.  Philosophical.— i.  View  of  God's  relation 
to  the  material  and  the  moral  world. — The  word 
'  Deism,'  besides  serving  as  the  designation  of  an 
historical  religious  movement,  has  been  commonly 
used  to  describe  a  particular  view  of  God's  nature 
and  of  the  dependence  of  the  world  upon  Him. 
Between  the  two  uses  of  the  word  a  connexion 
exists,  of  which  some  notice  will  presently  be 
taken,  but  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that 
philosophic  Deism  was  necessarily  the  accepted 
creed  of  the  Deists  of  the  18th  century.  Indeed, 
some  who  bore  the  name  would  at  the  present  day 
be  called  Theists.  But  the  distinction  now  made 
between  Deism  and  Theism  did  not  then  exist. 
The  two  expressions  were  used  indiscriminately. 
It  is  only  in  later  times,  since  the  study  of  the 
philosophy  of  religion  has  been  prosecuted  with 
greater  attention,  that  to  the  word  '  Deism '  has 
been  attached  a  more  defined  and  exact  connotation. 
We  proceed  to  ask,  What  is  the  meaning  conveyed 
by  the  word  in  this  later  and  more  abstract  sense? 

The  great  question  concerning  the  relation  of 
God  to  the  world  has  received  a  vast  number  of 
different  answers.  To  classify  into  distinct  groups 
the  various  solutions  proposed  is  no  easy  matter. 
It  is  difficult  to  draw  lines  of  division,  when  the 


DEISM 


641 


gradations  are  almost  imperceptible,  though  at  the 
two  extremities  members  of  the  same  series  may 
stand  in  conspicuous  opposition  to  one  another. 
But,  since  some  form  of  classification  is  necessary, 
it  has  been  found  convenient  to  separate  views  as 
to  the  being  of  God  into  two  divisions,  according 
as  they  approximate  to  Pantheism  on  the  one  hand 
or  to  Deism  on  the  other.  With  the  second  only 
are  we  here  concerned.  Let  it  be  borne  in  mind 
that  our  subject  of  study  is  not  a  definite  school  of 
thought  sharply  outlined  and  admitting  historical 
treatment.  It  is  rather  a  vague  inclination  or 
bent  of  mind,  which  in  varying  degrees  is  con- 
tinuously present  in  human  thought,  and  occasion- 
ally, coming  prominently  to  the;  front,  becomes 
the  dominant  factor  in  religious  and  philosophic 
systems. 

Deism  approaches  the  ultimate  problem  of  the 
universe  with  a  self-satisfied  confidence  painfully 
out  of  proportion  to  the  difficulty  of  the  task  of 
finding  a  solution.  With  little  sense  of  reverence 
for  the  mystery  that  lies  behind  all  outward 
appearances,  it  accepts  an  answer  suggested  by 
anthropomorphic  analogies,  and  framed  in  accord- 
ance with  uncritical  prepossessions.  Common 
sense  admits  no  obstinate  questionings  as  to  the 
independent  existence  of  the  external  world,  nor 
does  it  care  to  inquire  too  curiously  what  may  be 
the  real  character  of  human  freedom.  It  rests 
content  with  the  common  assumptions  of  daily  life. 
The  Deist,  adopting  these  assumptions  as  his 
starting-point,  finds  comparatively  little  difficulty 
in  constructing  his  theory  of  God  and  the  world, 
He  is  ready  to  acknowledge  a  Creator.  In  order 
to  account  for  the  existence  of  the  material  world, 
it  is  necessary  to  assume  the  existence  of  a  First 
Cause,  at  whose  command  creation  took  effect  and 
the  cosmos  entered  on  its  life.  But  the  Deist's 
conception  of  creation  is  essentially  restricted. 
The  fabric  of  the  universe  is  supposed  to  stand  to 
God  in  the  relation  which  the  instrument  bears 
to  its  maker.  The  heavens  are  the  work  of  His 
hands,  just  as  the  watch  is  the  work  of  the  watch- 
maker. As  the  craftsman  determines  the  charac- 
teristic properties  of  his  machine,  the  correlation 
of  its  parts,  their  positions  and  their  functions,  so 
is  God  conceived  to  have  dealt  with  the  world.  He 
brought  it  into  being  and  ordained  its  laws.  He 
imparted  to  it  once  for  all  the  energy  which  serves 
as  the  driving  power  of  the  stupendous  mechanism. 
The  Deist  recognizes  in  God  the  ultimate  source  of 
matter  and  motion,  and,  consistently  with  this 
conception,  admits  the  possibility  of  occasional 
interferences  on  the  part  of  the  Deity.  But,  though 
the  possibility  of  such  interference  is  granted,  the 
probability  is  called  in  question.  It  seems  more 
in  accordance  with  the  principles  of  Deism  that 
Nature  should  be  left  to  work  itself  out  in  obedience 
to  laws  originally  given.  Any  suggestion  of  a 
deviation  from  the  established  order  is  resented, 
as  though  to  admit  it  were  to  be  wanting  in  due 
respect  for  the  inviolable  majesty  of  God's  un- 
changeableness  and  the  original  perfection  of  His 
work.  A  perfect  machine,  it  is  supposed,  would 
not  require  from  time  to  time  to  be  adjusted  by  its 
maker  ;  nor  would  the  Unchangeable  introduce  any 
later  corrections  into  a  creation  which  from  the 
first  reflected  His  omniscience  and  omnipotence. 

Similarly  based  on  anthropomorphic  analogies, 
and  subject  in  consequence  to  similar  defects,  is 
the  Deistic  conception  of  the  relation  of  God  to 
the  moral  world.  He  is  the  supreme  Governor, 
the  author  of  moral  as  of  physical  law,  but  as 
remote  in  the  one  region  as  in  the  other  from  the 
particular  cases  exhibiting  the  working  of  His  laws. 
He  is  thought  of  as  filling  the  part  of  legislator 
and  judge  to  the  universe  of  moral  beings ;  and 
these  analogies,  derived  from  the  organization  of 


human  society,  are  treated  as  though  they  were 
entirely  adequate  not  only  to  illustrate,  but  even 
to  explain,  His  supreme  authority.  The  moral 
law  is  assumed  to  be  sufficiently  well  known  by  all 
for  the  practical  purposes  of  life.  Pains  and 
pleasures,  present  and  future,  are  attached  respect- 
ively to  its  infringement  and  its  observance. 
Men  are  automatically  punished  and  rewarded,  in 
strict  accordance  with  their  deserts.  In  the  moral 
as  in  the  physical  world  there  is  neither  need  nor 
room  for  the  special  interposition  of  the  supreme 
Governor. 

Whatever  shortcomings  such  a  view  of  the 
nature  of  God  may  have, — and  they  are  both  obvious 
and  important, — yet  in  some  respects  it  tallies  with 
the  promptings  of  the  religious  instincts  of  men. 
It  is  opposed  to  Materialism,  avoiding  the  desperate 
necessity  of  ascribing  to  matter  an  independent 
eternal  existence  of  its  own.  Nor  is  God  reduced, 
as  in  Pantheism,  to  a  mere  abstraction,  an  im- 
personal substratum  of  the  universe.  He  is  a  real 
person,  standing  over  against  the  world  and  man. 
Human  personality  also  is  preserved.  Man  retains 
his  freedom,  and  justice  is  done  to  his  responsibility. 
As  he  sows  so  shall  he  reap,  according  to  laws  that 
admit  of  no  exception.  Obviously  in  these  ideas 
there  is  much  that  is  true,  and  the  truth  is  of  that 
positive  kind  to  which  appeal  must  be  made  in 
practical  exhortation  and  the  enforcement  of 
ethical  teaching.  But  with  the  truth  is  mingled 
much  error.  The  consequent  weaknesses  of  Deism 
are  both  theoretical  and  practical. 

2.  Defects  in  conceptions  of  Creation  and  Finite 
Existence. — Deism  labours  under  the  disadvantage 
of  being  a  dualistic  explanation  of  the  world.  Not 
indeed  that  it  is  explicitly  so.  The  charge  would 
be  repudiated.  But  the  repudiation  means  no 
more  than  that  the  Deist  is  unconscious  of  the 
fact,  having  been  content  to  leave  unexamined 
many  of  the  conceptions  with  which  he  deals. 
Notably  is  this  the  case  with  the  idea  of  Creation. 
The  God  of  the  Deist  is,  in  fact,  a  demiurge  who 
has  shaped  into  a  cosmos  a  matter  essentially  alien 
from  Himself.  And,  though  the  Deist  replies  that, 
according  to  his  teaching,  matter  is  not  shaped 
by  God  but  called  into  being  by  His  creative  word, 
the  answer  is  unsatisfactory.  For  this  creation 
of  an  alien  matter  out  of  nothing  presents,  on 
examination,  insuperable  difficulties.  There  is 
nothing  to  bridge  the  gap  between  the  Creator  and 
His  creation.  Nor  is  any  attempt  made  to  find  in 
the  nature  of  God  any  motive  towards  the  act  of 
creation.  Recourse  is  had  to  the  conception  of  an 
entirely  arbitrary  and  inexplicable  act  of  power. 

Equally  lacking  in  depth  is  the  Deist's  view  of 
the  problem  of  finite  existence.  From  his  stand- 
point the  words '  in  God  we  live,  and  move,  and  have 
our  being'  are  destitute  of  any  real  significance. 
For  to  all  intents  and  purposes  he  conceives  of  the 
world  as  existing  independently  of  the  Deity.  The 
essential  dualism  of  the  conception  is  disguised, 
not  removed,  by  laying  stress  on  the  origination 
of  one  form  of  existence  from  the  other.  Whatever 
may  have  been  the  relation  of  the  two  at  the 
moment  of  creation,  the  finite,  as  it  now  is,  pos- 
sesses a  substantial  independence  of  the  Infinite. 
The  apparent  simplicity  of  the  view  is  gained  by 
the  abandonment  of  any  attempt  to  reach  the 
conception  of  an  underlying  unity. 

A  further  weakness  of  Deism  is  disclosed  as  soon 
as  the  relation  of  the  moral  law  to  the  will  of  God 
becomes  the  subject  of  discussion.  For  it  is  pre- 
cisely here  that  those  analogies  with  earthly  rulers 
on  which  the  Deist  relies  break  down  and  fail  the 
inquirer  at  the  most  critical  point  of  his  investiga- 
tion. For,  if  the  analogy  of  legislation  be  pressed, 
then  it  will  appear  as  though  the  moral  law  were 
determined    arbitrarily   according    to   the  Divine 


542 


DEISM 


will  and  pleasure.  Its  necessity  or  inevitableness 
seemingly  disappears.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the 
judicial  function  of  the  Supreme  Governor  be  put 
in  the  forefront,  and  the  moral  law  be  regarded  as 
existing  in  the  reason  of  things,  and  requiring 
only  to  be  enforced  by  the  Divine  power,  then  it 
would  seem  as  though  the  freedom  of  God's  action 
were  limited  by  a  rule  superior  to  Himself.  From 
this  dilemma  the  principles  of  Deism  offer  no  way 
of  escape.  If  the  externality  of  God  in  relation  to 
the  world,  physical  or  moral,  be  assumed,  then  in 
some  way  or  other  limitations  and  restrictions  are 
placed  upon  the  Divine  nature.  In  the  one  case, 
God  is  left  confronted  by  an  independent  material 
world ;  in  the  other  case,  by  an  independent  law 
of  right  and  wrong.  And  the  very  essence  of 
Deism  lies  in  its  assumption  of  God's  externality. 

Theoretic  unsoundness  is  attended  with  practical 
deficiencies.  Deism  has  not  been  without  injurious 
effect  on  those  who  have  adopted  it  as  their  creed. 
If  it  be  admitted  that  man's  highest  spiritual  life 
is  attained  in  proportion  as  he  rises  to  communion 
with  God,  then  it  must  be  confessed  that  Deism 
can  never  carry  the  soul  up  into  this  region.  The 
appearances  of  the  world,  however  intricate  in 
design  and  prodigal  of  beauty,  convey  to  the  heart 
no  message  significant  of  the  indwelling  presence 
of  God.  The  most  that  the  Deist  may  legitimately 
do  is  to  follow  back  a  many-linked  chain  of  infer- 
ence to  a  point  in  the  far  past  when  God,  at  the 
moment  of  creation,  was  in  contact  with  His  world. 
In  a  universe  so  conceived,  man  feels  himself  left 
to  his  own  resources.  A  cold  tribute  of  perfunctory 
worship  is  all  that  he  is  likely  to  offer  to  a  God 
whose  arm  is  never  stretched  out  in  answer  to 
prayer,  whose  ear  is  never  open  to  the  supplication 
of  the  penitent.  Man  learns  to  think  that  his  wel- 
fare depends  entirely  upon  the  accuracy  of  his  know- 
ledge of  those  general  laws  by  which  the  course  of 
the  world  is  determined,  and  upon  his  skill  in 
adapting  himself  to  them.  There  is  stimulated  in 
him  a  spirit  of  self-sufficiency  and  self-assertion  as 
towards  God,  and  a  certain  hardness  and  lack  of 
sympathy  towards  his  fellow-men. 

Deistic  premisses  do  not  positively  exclude  the 
possibility  of  revelation,  but  create  a  strong  pre- 
judice against  it.  For  revelation  is  a  species  of 
miracle,  and  open  to  all  the  objections  which,  in 
the  mind  of  the  Deist,  bear  against  the  miraculous. 
It  is  an  interference  with  the  regular  course  of  the 
world.  In  some  forms  of  Deism  the  idea  of  a 
Divine  interposition  is  accepted  without  hesitation 
or  sense  of  incongruity.  But  further  consideration 
is  likely  to  suggest  the  thought  that  the  need  for 
interference  with  the  world  is  due  to  some  original 
weakness  of  construction  ;  and  the  Deist,  in  his 
anxiety  to  uphold  the  credit  of  the  First  Cause,  is 
led  to  deny  first  the  need  for,  and  then  the  fact  of, 
revelation. 

Deism  is  a  curiously  unstable  system  of  belief. 
It  could  hardly  be  otherwise,  considering  that  the 
premisses  from  which  it  sets  out  are  wanting 
in  consistency  and  in  definiteness.  Beginning  by 
assuming  the  unqualified  correctness  of  a  few  of 
the  truths  which  appeal  to  the  religious  instinct, 
it  reaches  at  length  a  position  in  flagrant  contra- 
diction to  fundamental  religious  beliefs.  The 
utility  of  prayer  and  the  possibility  of  communica- 
tion between  God  and  man  are  ideas  which  have 
always  found  a  home  in  the  unsophisticated 
religiouc  «^usciousness ;  yet  these  are  the  ideas 
which  Deism  finally  discovers  to  be  incompatible 
with  its  teaching  about  the  Divine  nature.  And, 
when  these  ideas  have  been  repudiated,  there 
follows  the  gradual  encroachment  of  an  irreligious 
temper,  and  the  elimination  from  life  of  the 
effective  power  of  religion.  Though  nominally 
belief  in  God  be  retained,  it  becomes  wholly  in- 


operative— the  furniture  of  the  mind  rather  than 
the  inspiration  of  the  heart. 

3.  Examples  of  Deistic  systems. — Deism  in  the 
sense  which  we  are  now  investigating  we  have 
defined  to  be  a  tendency  of  thought.  It  is  a 
tendency  which  for  the  most  part  has  been  counter- 
acted by  stronger  forces.  But  occasional  examples 
in  the  history  of  religion  and  philosophy  prove  that 
it  is  capable  of  gaining  the  ascendancy.  Apart 
from  the  influence  of  revelation,  the  drift  of  ethnic 
religions  has  been  in  the  direction  of  Polytheism 
and  Pantheism  rather  than  towards  the  opposite 
extreme  of  Deism.  For  men  are  swayed  more 
easily  by  their  emotions  than  by  their  reason,  and 
to  the  feelings  the  colder  system  of  Deism  is  less 
attractive  than  these  other  forms  of  error.  The 
most  conspicuous  example  of  a  religion  in  which 
Deistic  forms  of  thought  are  paramount  is  Con- 
fucianism, which  exhibits  a  characteristic  combina- 
tion of  qualities  and  defects.  In  particular,  there 
is  a  decorous  recognition  of  heaven  as  the  source 
from  which  man  derives  his  nature,  although,  for  the 
attainment  of  virtue,  little  importance  is  attached 
to  the  communication  between  God  and  man.  Its 
ideal  includes  the  observance  of  an  exacting  moral 
code,  but  does  not  rise  above  this  level.  Sin  as  an 
offence  against  God,  and  virtue  as  trustful  depend- 
ence on  His  help,  are  conceptions  that  find  no  place 
in  a  system  which  is  almost  pure  Deism. 

Stoicism  is  another,  but  less  complete,  illustra- 
tion of  the  working  of  the  same  tendency.  The 
insistence  on  the  law  of  nature,  and  on  the  universal 
order  extending  through  the  world,  is  a  thoroughly 
'  Deistic '  idea.  So  also,  in  several  respects,  are  the 
ethical  notions  of  the  Stoics,  their  emphasis  on  the 
power  of  the  will,  and  their  doctrine  of  man's  self- 
sufficiency.  These  indeed  are  points  on  which  they 
set  precedents  followed  in  later  times.  For  the 
18th  cent.  Deists,  familiarized  through  a  classical 
education  with  the  writings  of  the  ancient  Stoics, 
drew  much  of  their  inspiration  from  this  source. 
On  the  other  hand,  Stoicism  contained  ideas  irre- 
concilable with  pure  Deism.  Its  Pantheism,  though 
far  from  being  consistently  developed  to  its  logical 
issues,  is  sufficient  to  differentiate  it  from  any 
system  in  which  God  is  assumed  to  be  personally 
distinct  from  the  world.  In  ethics,  its  rejection 
of  all  utilitarian  considerations  is  opposed  to  the 
characteristic  temper  of  Deism.  Thus,  though 
there  is  a  genetic  relationship  between  Stoicism 
and  English  Deism,  the  offspring  differed  in  some 
essential  features  from  the  parent. 

Its  marked  preference  for  the  Deistic  explanation 
of  the  universe  accounts  in  large  measure  alike  for 
the  strength  and  the  weaknessof  Muhammadanism. 
No  one  will  deny  that  the  effect  of  the  teaching  of 
Islam  is  to  produce  in  its  adherents  a  very  real  and 
deep  reverence  for  God,  the  all-powerful  Creator 
and  Ruler  of  the  world.  At  the  same  time  the 
oppressive  sense  of  a  great  and  unbridged  gulf 
between  God  and  man  checks  and  thwarts  the 
natural  action  of  man's  religious  instincts.  Great 
as  is  the  regularity  with  which  the  prescribed 
forms  of  devotion  are  observed,  the  worshipper 
adores  an  infinitely  distant  God.  The  specifically 
Christian  conception  of  freedom  of  access  to  the 
Divine  throne  is  conspicuously  absent.  When 
petitions  for  particular  benefits  are  offered  up, 
they  are  addressed  (at  any  rate  in  many  parts  of 
the  Muhammadan  world)  to  inferior  powers 
rather  than  to  God.  This  degradation  of  prayer 
is  remarkable  evidence  of  the  obstacle  which  Deism 
opposes  to  the  exercise  of  man's  highest  spiritual 
function,  communion  with  his  Maker. 

After  all,  the  classical  example  of  the  Deistic 
tendency  is  to  be  found  in  the  18th  cent.  Deists ; 
and  herein  lies  the  justification  for  attaching  to 
the  same  word  an  historical  and  an  abstract  sense. 


DELHI 


543 


In  the  writings  of  Toland,  Collins,  Tindal,  and 
other  historical  Deists  is  contained  the  exposi- 
tion of  precisely  those  ideas  which  combine  to 
make  up  Deism  in  the  abstract.  Not,  indeed, 
that  in  any  single  one  of  these  writers  is  Deism 
.ogically  rounded  oft'  and  cleared  from  all  incon- 
sistencies. Men  seldom  press  their  principles  to 
the  uttermost ;  nor  were  the  Deists,  with  their  lack 
of  philosophical  acumen,  likely  to  be  exceptions  to 
the  rule.  Side  by  side  with  arguments  which  in 
effect  exclude  God's  direct  action  on  the  world,  they 
placed  statements  of  belief  which  the  most  exacting 
Theist  would  find  irreproachable.  Gradually  the 
logic  of  events  disclosed  the  true  implications  of 
their  principles,  with  the  result  that  Deism  was 
either  repudiated  in  favour  of  a  return  to  historic 
Christianity,  or  exchanged  for  avowed  infidelity. 
See,  further,  art.  Theism. 

Literature. — Abbey-Overton,  The  Eng.  Church  in  the  18th 
Cent.  (1878) ;  Caldecott,  Philos.  of  Religion  (1901) ;  Carrau, 
La  Philosophic,  religieuse  en  Angleterre  (1SSS) ;  Farrar,  Crit. 
Hist,  of  Free  Thought  (1862);  R.  Flint,  Anti-Theistic  Theories 
(1879),  p.  441  ff.,  also  Philos.  of  Hist,  in  France  and  Germany 
(1874),  and  art.  'Deism,'  in  EBril;  Hore,  The  Church  in 
England  from  William  in.  to  Victoria  (1886) ;  Hunt,  Religious 
Thought  in  England  (1870) ;  J.  Iverach,  Is  God  Knoicable  ? 
(1887),  p.  203  ff.  ;  Leland,  View  of  the  Principal  Deistical  Writers 
(1754,  5th  ed.  1837) ;  Lechler,  Gesch.  des  eng.  Deismus  (1841) ; 
O.  Lempp,  Das  Problem  der  Theodicee  in  der  Philos.  und  Lit. 
des  18ten  Jahrh.  (1910) ;  Macran,  Eng.  Apologetic  Theology 
(1905)  ;  Martineau,  Study  of  Religion  (18S8)  ;  Orr,  David  Hume 
and  his  Influence  on  Philosophy  and  Theology  (1903)  ;  Overton, 
The  Eng.  Church  and  its  Bishops  (1887) ;  Overton-Relton,  Hist, 
of  Eng.  Church  from  Accession  of  George  I.  (1906);  Pattison, 
'Tendencies  of  Religious  Thought  in  England,  1688-1750,'  in 
Essays  and  Reviews  (1861) ;  Pfleiderer,  Gesch.  der  Religions- 
philosophie  (1893);  J.  M.  Robertson,  Short  Hist,  of  Free 
Thought*  (1906);  Spooner,  Bp.  Butler  (1905) ;  Leslie  Stephen, 
Hist,  of  Eng.  Thought  in  the  18th  Cent.3  (1902);  Troeltsch, 
art.  'Deismus,'  in  PRE*  (1898);  Wordsworth,  The  One  Re- 
ligion, Lect.  ii.  (1881).  G.   C.  JOYCE. 

DELHI. —  The  name  applied  specially  to  the 
modern  city  of  Shahjahanabad  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Jumna  (lat.  28°  38'  58"  N. ;  long.  77°  16'  30"  E. ), 
and  generally  to  a  collection  of  ruined  cities, 
covering  an  area  of  about  45  sq.  miles,  in  the 
neighbourhood.  Classifying  these  cities  from  N.  to 
S.,  we  have  (1)  Firozabad  of  Firoz  Shah  Tughlaq 
(c.  A.D.  1360),  adjoining  modern  Delhi  on  the 
south ;  (2)  Indrapat  or  Indraprastha,  associated 
with  the  earliest  legends  of  the  Aryan  occupation 
of  the  Jumna  valley,  the  foundation  of  which  by 
Yudhisthira  and  his  brothers,  the  five  Pandavas, 
is  recorded  in  the  Mahabharata ;  the  site  was 
reoccupied  by  Humayun  and  Sher  Shah  (c.  1540)  ; 
(3)  Siri,  fortified  by  Ala-ud-din  (c.  1300) ;  (4) 
Jahanpanah,  the  space  between  old  Delhi  and 
Siri,  which  was  gradually  occupied  and  ulti- 
mately connected  with  the  cities  N.  and  S.  of 
it  (c.  1330) ;  (5)  Old  Delhi,  or  the  Fort  of  Rag 
Pithora,  the  original  Delhi  of  the  Pathan  invaders 
in  the  12th  century ;  (6)  Tughlaqabad,  built  by 
Muhammad  bin  Tughlaq  (c.  1320).  Modern  Delhi, 
or  Shahjahanabad,  named  after  the  Emperor 
Shahjahan  (1628-58),  may  be  said  to  date  from 
about  1650,  the  famous  palace  being  first  erected 
(1638-48),  and  forming  the  nucleus  of  the  new 
city.  The  cities  thus  enumerated  contain  a  vast 
variety  of  architectural  remains,  some  of  the 
greatest  interest  and  beauty.  Here  it  is  possible 
to  name  only  a  few  of  those  most  closely  connected 
with  the  religious  beliefs  of  the  successive  occu- 
pants of  this  historic  site. 

In  the  first  place,  Delhi  contains  two  of  the 
famous  inscribed  pillars  of  the  Emperor  Asoka 
ig.v.),  erected  about  250  B.C.  The  inscriptions 
contain  the  code  of  moral  and  religious  precepts 
promulgated  by  this  great  ruler.  These  pillars, 
one  of  which  stands  on  the  historic  ridge,  the 
other  in  the  ruined  city  of  Firozabad,  were  re- 
moved to  Delhi  in  A.D.  1356  by  Firoz  Shah  Tughlaq, 
the  former  from  Meerut  in  the  United  Provinces, 


the  other  from  Toprii  in  the  Umballa  district  r<* 
the  Panjab.  The  pillar  on  the  ridge  was  much 
injured  by  an  explosion  early  in  the  18th  cent.  ; 
that  at  Firozabad  is  in  an  excellent  state  of  preser- 
vation, and  is  the  most  interesting  of  all  the 
Asoka  pillars,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  only  one  on 
which  the  invaluable  Seventh  Edict  is  inscribed. 
Another  interesting  Hindu  relic  is  the  iron  pillar 
which  stands  near  the  Kutab  Minar  in  Old  Delhi. 
It  was  erected  by  a  certain  Raja  Chandra,  and 
may  be  dated  approximately  A.D.  400.  It  is  a 
marvellous  example  of  the  skill  attained  by  the 
Hindu  metallurgists  of  the  time.  Close  by,  the 
mosque  of  Qutb-ud-din  was  rebuilt  out  of  the 
materials  of  one  or  more  Jain  temples.  One 
cloister,  with  rows  of  finely  carved  pillars,  remains 
in  good  preservation.  The  innermost  court  of  this 
mosque,  with  its  corridors  and  west  end,  was  built 
in  A.D.  1191,  and  the  screen  of  arches,  the  glory  of 
the  building,  was  erected  six  years  later.  The 
splendid  tower,  the  Qutb  or  Kutab  Minar,  named 
after  its  founder,  was  completed  by  Shams-ud-din 
Altamsh  (1211-36),  who  also  extended  the  great 
mosque.  Much  controversy  has  arisen  regarding 
the  purpose  for  which  this  tower  was  erected. 
Fergusson  (p.  506)  denies  that  it  has  any  con- 
nexion with  the  great  mosque  at  the  south-east 
corner  of  which  it  stands.  According  to  him, 
'  it  was  not  designed  aa  a  place  from  which  the  mueddin  should 
call  the  prayers,  though  its  lower  gallery  may  have  been 
used  for  that  purpose  also,  but  as  a  tower  of  victory, — a  Jaya 
Stambha,  in  fact, — an  emblem  of  conquest,  which  the  Hindus 
could  only  too  easily  understand  and  appreciate.'  This  view 
appears  to  be  mistaken. 

Cunningham  (Archaeological  Reports,  iv.  p.  ix) 
shows  that  it  is  distinctly  called  a  mazanah,  or 
muazzin's  tower,  by  the  Syrian  geographer  Abulfida 
(A.D.  1273-1345),  and  he  cites  several  examples  of 
early  mosques  which  have  but  one  minar  each. 
The  inscriptions  also  prove  that  this  was  the  pur- 
pose of  its  erection. 

The  lovely  Alai  Darwaza,  or  gate  of  Ala,  was 
built  by  Ala-ud-din  Khiljl  (1295-1315).  Close  by 
is  the  beautiful  tomb  of  Shams-ud-din. 

"Though  small,'  writes  Fergusson,  'it  is  one  of  the  richest 
examples  of  Hindu  art  applied  to  Mahomedan  purposes  that 
Old  Delhi  affords,  and  is  extremely  beautiful,  though  the 
builders  still  display  a  certain  inaptness  in  fitting  the  details  to 
their  new  purposes.  ...  In  addition  to  the  beauty  of  its  details, 
it  is  interesting  as  being  the  oldest  tomb  known  to  exist  in 
India.     He  [Shams-ud-din]  died  A.D.  1236.' 

Among  the  other  interesting  and  beautiful 
mosques,  of  which  Delhi  possesses  such  a  large 
number,  the  following  may  be  mentioned :  the 
Kala  or  Kalah  Masjid,  built  in  Firozabad  about 
A.D.  1380,  is  interesting  as  an  example  of  the  early 
so-called  Pathan  style.  The  facade  of  the  mosque 
of  Sher  Shah  in  the  Purana  Qila  is,  says  Fanshawe 
(p.  228),  '  quite  the  most  striking  bit  of  coloured 
decoration  at  Delhi,  and  has  been  satisfactorily 
restored.  .  .  .  The  interior  is  extremely  fine,  the 
pattern  in  the  pendentives  below  the  dome  being 
very  effective.'  'The  Jam?  Masjid,  or  cathedral 
mosque  of  Shahjahan,  built  in  1648-50,  is,'  says 
Fergusson  (p.  600),  '  not  unlike,  in  plan,  the  MotI 
Masjid  of  Agra  (q.v.),  though  built  on  a  much 
larger  scale,  and  adorned  with  two  noble  minarets, 
which  are  wanting  in  the  Agra  example ;  while, 
from  the  somewhat  capricious  admixture  of  red 
sandstone  with  white  marble,  it  is  far  from  possess- 
ing the  same  elegance  and  purity  of  effect.  It  is, 
however,  one  of  the  few  mosques,  either  in  India  or 
elsewhere,  that  are  designed  to  produce  a  pleasing 
effect  externally.'  This  great  mosque,  built  close 
to  the  palace,  seems  to  have  rendered  it  unnecessary 
to  erect  a  private  court  chapel  within  its  walls. 
When  a  Moti  Masjid  was  added  by  Aurangzib,  the 
building  was  small,  and,  though  pretty,  quite  un- 
worthy of  the  place,  and  illustrates  the  rapid 
decadence  of  Muhammadan  ecclesiastical  archi- 
tecture after  the  time  of  Shahjahan. 


544 


DELIBERATION— DELICT 


Delhi  is  equally  rich  in  the  number  and  variety 
of  its  sepulchres.  Humayun,  the  second  Mughal 
Emperor,  lies  in  a  stately  tomb.  '  In  mere  beauty,' 
says  Fanshawe  (p.  230),  'it  cannot,  of  course,  com- 
pare with  the  Taj  at  Agra,  but  there  is  an  effect 
of  strength  about  it  which  becomes  the  last  resting- 
place  of  a  Moghul  warrior  whose  life  was  marked 
by  many  struggles  and  vicissitudes ;  and  most 
people  will  probably  prefer  its  greater  simplicity 
to  either  the  son's  [Akbar's]  tomb  at  Sikandra, 
near  Agra,  or  the  grandson's  [Jahangir's]  tomb  at 
Shadara,  near  Lahore.'  The  dargah,  or  shrine,  of 
Shaikh  Nizam-ud-din  Auliya  and  the  other  Chishti 
shrines  at  Ajmlr,  the  Kutab  and  Pakpattan,  are 
the  places  most  revered  in  all  India  by  Muham- 
madans.  His  story  is  fully  given  by  Fanshawe 
(p.  236),  who  believes  that  there  is  no  ground  for 
the  popular  legend  which  attributes  the  origin 
of  Thuggee  to  him.  He  died  at  Delhi  in  a.d. 
1324,  and  the  buildings — the  gate  of  which  bears 
the  date  1378 — are  mostly  due  to  the  Emperor 
Firoz  Shah  Tughlaq.  Round  the  resting-place  of 
the  saint  are  many  beautiful  and  interesting  monu- 
ments. That  of  Jahanara  Begam,  the  faithful 
daughter  of  the  Emperor  Shahjahan,  bears  the 
touching  epitaph :  '  Let  green  grass  only  conceal 
my  grave  ;  grass  is  the  best  covering  of  the  grave 
of  the  meek.'  Close  by  is  the  tomb  of  the  un- 
fortunate Emperor  Muhammad  Shah,  who  died  in 
1748,  in  whose  time  Delhi  was  captured  and 
sacked  by  the  ruthless  Persian,  Nadir  Shah.  If 
not  a  triumph  of  design,  its  beautiful  pierced 
marble  screens  are  admirable.  Near  these  are  the 
earlier  tombs  of  the  poet  Amir  Khusru,  who  died 
in  1324,  and  of  the  historian  Khondamlr — the 
latter  not  being  now  identifiable. 

Literature. — For  the  history  and  antiquities  of  Delhi,  see 
H.  C.  Fanshawe,  Delhi,  Past  and  Present,  London,  1902 ; 
J.  Fergusson,  History  of  Indian  and  Eastern  Architecture, 
ed.  J.  Burgess,  London,  1910,  p.  600 ff. ;  A.  Cunning-ham,  Arch- 
Geological  Survey  Reports,  vol.  ii.  p.  132  ff. ;  W.  H.  Sleeman, 
Rambles  and  Recollections,  ed.  V.  A.  Smith,  London,  1893,  ii. 
139  ff. ;  R.  Heber,  Narrative  of  a  Journey  through  the  Upper 
Provinces  of  India,  London,  1828,  ch.  xix. ;  Carr  Stephen, 
The  Archaeology  and  Monumental  Remains  of  Delhi,  1876 ; 
A.  Harcourt,  New  Guide  to  Delhi,  1873. 

W.  Crooke. 

DELIBERATION.— Deliberation  is  a  complex 
mental  state,  preceding,  and  issuing  in,  choice  or 
decision.  It  is  a  fundamental  characteristic  of 
personal  consciousness,  due  to  the  fact  that  a  mind 
furnished  with  experience  is  generally  confronted 
with  alternative  possibilities.  There  is  in  the  child 
a  long  and  interesting  genetic  period  before  full- 
blown deliberation  is  born.  This  early  dawning 
stage,  before  self-consciousness  has  arrived,  and 
while  the  processes  of  decision  are  below  the  idea- 
tional level,  has  been  called  '  deliberative  sugges- 
tion.' While  life  is  still  on  the  organic  and 
impulsive  level,  co-ordinate  sense-stimuli  confront 
one  another,  and  there  is  a  corresponding  conflict 
of  motor-reactions. 

Baldwin,  in  his  Mental  Development  (p.  127),  gives  a  good 
example  of  this  primitive  type  of  deliberation.  A  child  of  eight 
months,  under  his  observation,  formed  the  habit  of  scratching 
the  face  of  its  mother  or  nurse  with  its  finger-nails,  until,  as  a 
result,  the  close  proximity  of  any  face  was  a  sufficient  sugges- 
tion for  it  to  give  a  violent  scratch.  To  break  the  habit,  the 
child's  father  slapped  its  fingers  each  time  it  scratched,  and 
after  a  few  experiences  the  habitual  reaction  was  checked. 
When  a  face  approached  the  child,  it  would  grow  solemn  and 
quiet,  and  gaze  at  the  face,  hardly  moving  a  muscle ;  then, 
after  a  trying  period  of  balance,  it  would  either  suddenly 
scratch  or  turn  away  to  something  which  its  father  provided  as 
a  counter-attraction. 

Out  of  this  organic  and  neural  stage  the  higher, 
full-grown  type  of  deliberation  evolves.  These 
instinctive  and  impulsive  motor  processes,  with 
their  corresponding  emotional  tones,  are  gradually 
registered  in  consciousness  and  furnish  the  basic 
memory-material  for  real  deliberation.  The  alter- 
natives now  in  conflict  are  more  or  less  clearly 
envisaged,  and  in  turn  occupy  the  centre  of  the 


mental  stage,  until  one  alternative  dominates 
attention  and  is  selected,  though  throughout  life 
conscious  deliberation  is  only  rarely  necessary. 
Organized,  i.e.  habitual,  reactions  determine  a  very 
large  part  of  our  choices,  and,  though  we  often 
delay  action  because  of  inhibitory  tendencies,  such 
delay  is  not  necessarily  deliberation.  Much  of  our 
deliberation,  again,  does  not  rise  to  a  clear  cogni- 
tion of  alternative  ends.  Blurred  images,  fitful 
feelings,  disconnected  words,  or  a  system  of  mental 
'  labels,'  often  stand  for  the  act  of  deliberation, 
and  we  oscillate  from  one  alternative  to  the  other 
without  a  clear  forecast  of  the  grounds  at  issue,  or 
the  ends  in  view.  Moreover,  we  are  often  relieved 
of  the  necessity  to  deliberate  by  the  dynamic  char- 
acter of  ideas.  Many  of  the  acts  of  a  normal 
person  are  ideo-motor,  that  is  to  say,  the  idea  itself 
is  propulsive  enough  to  sweep  directly  and  un- 
hindered into  action.  All  ideas  would  thus  produce 
action  (1)  if  they  were  sufficiently  propulsive,  and 
(2)  if  they  did  not  meet  conflicting  situations  in 
the  mind.  It  is  this  complex  conflict  of  ideas,  of 
reasons,  of  motives,  of  practical  means,  that  forces 
deliberation  upon  us. 

The  inhibitory  situation  which  blocks  impulsive 
tendencies  or  ideo-motor  action,  and  which  involves 
indecision  and  deliberation,  may  be,  and  often  is, 
the  marginal,  or  fringe,  consciousness  that  forms 
the  background  to  the  idea  in  full  focus.  We 
cannot  tell  why  we  do  not  act  upon  the  idea  which 
points  us  towards  any  end.  We  feel  an  indescrib- 
able restraint  that  checks  our  impulses  and  holds 
us  from  action.     As  W.  James  puts  it : 

1  No  matter  how  sharp  the  foreground-reasons  may  be,  or 
how  imminently  close  to  bursting  through  the  dam  and  carry- 
ing the  motor  consequences  their  own  way,  the  background, 
however  dimly  felt,  is  always  there ;  and  its  presence  .  .  . 
serves  as  an  effective  check  upon  the  irrevocable  discharge ' 
(Princ.  of  Psychology,  ii.  529). 

The  period  of  hesitation,  balance,  or  deliberation 
may  be  indefinitely  prolonged;  but  usually,  by 
processes  which  are  largely  sub-conscious,  the 
'  reasons '  for  one  alternative  over  the  other,  or  for 
one  possibility  over  the  others,  come  into  clearer 
focus,  stay  fixed  in  attention,  and  plainly  dominate ; 
and  the  mind  settles  into  a  decision. 

The  moral  significance  of  this  inward  balance, 
this  weighing  of  alternatives,  is  obvious.  All 
higher  ethical  behaviour  has  its  rise  here.  The 
person  who  deliberates  is  no  longer  at  the  mercy  of 
the  solicitation  of  instinct,  impulse,  or  a  sudden 
thought;  for  all  these  motor  tendencies  are  now 
forced  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  well-organized  inhibi- 
tions. Each  idea  must  dominate,  if  it  is  to  dominate 
at  all,  by  finding  its  place  in  the  complex  whole  of 
a  formed  consciousness  by  adjusting  itself  to  the 
ground-swell  of  a  fashioned  character. 

A  genuine  moral  decision,  a  self-determined 
action,  is  arrived  at  only  when  the  permanent  core 
of  the  self  has  found  expression  ;  and  that  is 
ordinarily  reached  through  serious  reflexion  and 
exhausting  inner  struggle,  which  is  deliberation  in 
its  deepest  significance. 

Literature.  —  J.  M.  Baldwin,  Mental  Development,  New 
York,  1896,  also  Feeling  and  Will,  do.  1895;  H.  HBffding, 
Outlines  of  Psychology,  Eng.  tr.,  London,  1892  ;  G.  Spiller,  The 
Mind  of  Man,  do.  1902 ;  A.  Bain,  Emotions  and  Will,  do. 
1859  (31880);  j.  Sully,  Human  Mind,  do.  1892;  W.  James, 
Principles  of  Psychology,  New  York,  2  vols.,  1891  (21905),  also 
Psychology  (a  briefer  course),  do.  1892. 

Rufus  M.  Jones. 
DELICT. — Considerable  difficulty  exists  in  re- 
gard to  the  definition  of  the  term  '  delict '  in  Roman 
law  and  in  systems  of  modern  law  founded  on  the 
Roman.  The  difficulties  are  not  so  great,  however, 
as  those  which  attach  to  the  definition  of  '  tort,' 
the  term  which,  on  the  whole,  corresponds  to  it  in 
English  law.  English  lawyers  have  failed  to  pro- 
duce a  perfectly  satisfactory  definition  of  the  latter 
term,  and  it  is  probable  that  it  really  represents, 
as  Markby  {Elements  of  Law,  p.  347)  says,  a  false 


DELUGE 


545 


classification.  Usage,  due  to  historical  accident 
and  variety  of  jurisdiction,  has  excluded  from  the 
English  term  cases  which  in  principle  fall  under  it. 
The  definition  of  '  delict '  in  General  Jurisprudence 
ought  to  give  the  essential  principle  underlying  the 
technicalities  of  particular  legal  systems. 

Moyle  (Justiniani  Institutiones,  lib.  iv.  pt.  1, 
note)  says  :  '  A  delict  is  usually  defined  as  a  viola- 
tion of  a  jus  in  rem  which  generates  an  obliga- 
tion remissible  by  the  private  individual  who  is 
wronged.'  He  finds  fault  with  this  definition,  as 
admitting  cases  where  the  party  injured  is  only 
entitled  to  recover  damages.  According  to  Moyle 
(ib.),  true  delicts  possess  three  peculiarities :  they 
give  rise  to  independent  obligations ;  they  always 
involve  dolus  or  culpa  ;  and  the  remedies  by  which 
they  are  redressed  are  penal.  Sohm  (Institutes,  Eng. 
tr.'-,  1901,  p.  432),  on  the  other  hand,  includes  such 
non-penal  actions  under  actions  arising  from  delicts. 

The  above  definition  seeks  to  distinguish  '  delict,' 
as  generating  an  obligation  remissible  by  the  private 
individual,  from  '  crime.'  This  is  to  adopt  Austin's 
distinction  between  civil  and  criminal  injuries  ;  for 
he  holds  that  the  distinction  consists  in  a  mere  dif- 
ference of  procedure,  viz.  whether  the  offence  is  pur- 
sued at  the  discretion  of  the  injured  party  or  at  that 
of  the  State  (Lectures  on  Jurisprudence 6,  p.  405). 
Blackstone  (iv.  5),  followed  by  Holland  (Elements 
of  Jurisprudence 10,  p.  320),  regards  the  distinction 
as  turning  on  whether  the  wrong  is  one  against 
individuals  as  individuals,  or  afi'ects  the  whole 
community  as  a  community.  Again,  some  have 
regarded  the  very  circumstance  whether  mere  re- 
dress is  given  for  loss  suffered,  or  whether,  on  the 
other  hand,  a  penalty  is  inflicted  for  wrong  done, 
as  the  distinguishing  feature  between  civil  and 
criminal  injuries.  If  the  latter  line  of  distinction 
be  adopted,  what  Moyle  considers  an  essential  of 
all  delicts  would  become  the  distinguishing  charac- 
teristic of  crimes  as  contrasted  with  delicts. 

In  English  law,  wrongs  to  property  to  which  no 
ethical  censure  attaches  are  included  among  '  torts.' 
Pollock  (Law  of  Torts3,  p.  18),  in  order  to  maintain 
intact  the  features  of  dolus  ('wrongful  intention') 
or  culpa  ('negligence'),  and  consequent  penal  culpa- 
bility, as  essential  ingredients  in  those  torts  that 
are  delicts,  regards  the  torts  from  which  these 
features  are  absent  as  obligations  arising,  not  ex 
delicto,  but  quasi  ex  delicto.  This  leads  to  the 
distinction  between  delicts  and  jwasi-delicts.  By 
some  there  is  said  to  be  no  distinction  in  principle, 
delicts  being  those  wrongs  which  were  made  action- 
able by  the  old  civil  law  of  Rome,  gwasi-delicts 
those  which  were  made  actionable  by  the  legislation 
of  the  preetor.  If,  however,  we  take  the  instances 
given  in  the  Institutes  of  Justinian, — a  judge  who, 
corruptly  or  through  ignorance  of  law,  has  made  a 
suit  his  own,  and  an  innkeeper  who  is  responsible 
for  the  loss  of  property  of  his  guests, — we  see  a 
distinction  perfectly  analogous  to  that  between 
contracts  and  ott<m-contracts.  As  in  some  cases 
the  law  establishes  a  tie  or  obligation  between 
the  parties,  the  same  as  would  have  existed  had 
there  been  a  contract  between  them,  so,  in  other 
cases,  it  establishes  an  obligation  similar  to  that 
which  would  have  arisen,  had  a  delict  been  com- 
mitted. The  point  of  difference  between  a  contract 
and  a  <raem-contract  is  that  one  is  formed  volun- 
tarily lay  the  person  bound,  the  other  is  formed 
involuntarily.  In  like  manner,  in  the  case  of  a 
■ielict,  there  is  voluntary  action — action  from  which 
it  is  possible  to  abstain ;  in  the  case  of  a  quasi- 
delict,  the  obligation  arises  from  an  act  or  position 
in  regard  to  which  the  person  bound  has  had  no 
option.  The  judge  must  decide  the  suit.  The 
innkeeper  is  bound  by  the  act  of  the  thief.  There 
may  or  may  not  be  dolus  or  culpa.  It  is  true  that, 
in  the  case  of  the  corruptly  decided  suit,  a  voli- 
vol.  iv. — 35 


tional  element  is  present.  The  involuntary  ele- 
ment arises  from  the  law  which  forces  on  the  judge 
the  position  of  having  to  decide  the  suit.  Yet  this 
very  case  shows  that  dolus  or  culpa  may  be  present 
in  quasi-delicts.  If  this  is  the  true  point  of  dis- 
tinction between  delict  and  quasi-delict,  it  justifies 
the  profound  comment  of  Austin  (styled  by  Pollock 
[op.  cit.  p.  18]  '  perverse  and  unintelligent  criti- 
cism '),  which  implies  that  there  is  no  essential 
distinction  from  the  point  of  view  of  legal  classi- 
fication between  gM«si-contract  and  quasi-delict 
(Austin,  op.  cit.  p.  914).  The  only  possible  distinc- 
tion must  be  that  stated  by  Austin :  that,  in  the 
one,  the  obligation  arises  from  services  rendered ; 
in  the  other,  from  wrong  done  or  services  omitted. 
Literature. — Institutes  of  Justinian,  Sandars'orMoyle'sed.; 
J.  Austin,  Lectures  on  Jurisprudence B,  London,  1863 ;  T.  E. 
Holland,  Elements  of  Jurisprudence^,  Oxford,  1906;  W. 
Markby ,  Elements  of  Law  3,  do.  1SS5 ;  F.  Pollock,  Law  of 
Torts*,  London,  1907  ;  A.  Underhill,  Law  of  Tarts3,  do.  1905. 

George  J.  Stokes. 
DELOS.— See  Amphictyony. 

DELPHI.— See  Amphictyony,  Oracles  (Gr.). 

DELUGE.— I.  Meaning  of  the  term.— The 
word  '  Deluge '  (Lat.  diluvium,  Fr.  diluge,  '  a 
great  flood ')  nas  been  very  generally  used  to  denote 
the  Bible  Flood  (Heb.  !?»rj)  recorded  in  Gn  6-9". 
It  is  commonly  understood  to  imply  that  the 
Noachian  Flood,  as  the  narrative  naturally  sug- 
gests, covered  the  surface  of  the  whole  world,  and 
that  all  men  and  all  terrestrial  animals  perished, 
excepting  those  providentially  saved  in  the  Ark 
(see  esp.  67- 13  721"23  91B). 

II.  Supposed  confirmation  of  the  Bible  Deluge. 
— So  considered,  the  Deluge  formed,  it  was  once 
believed,  a  very  important  epoch  in  the  world's 
history. 

1.  Attention  was  called  to  the  marked  difference 
between  the  extinct  species  of  animals  which  lived 
before  the  Deluge,  and  whose  fossil  remains  are 
found  in  various  geological  strata,  and  those  in 
existence  at  the  present  day ;  nor  does  it  seem 
always  to  have  been  realized  that  this  distinction 
is  in  itself  an  argument  against  the  literal  truth  of 
the  Bible  narrative,  according  to  which  all  species 
of  animals  should  have  survived,  or  God's  purpose 
must  have  failed. 

2.  A  more  cogent  proof  of  the  general  truth  of 
the  Bible  story  seemed  to  lie  in  the  fact  that 
Deluge  stories,  or  stories  in  which  a  great  Flood 
forms  a  more  or  less  prominent  part,  are  remark- 
ably frequent  in  the  folklore  of  the  ancient  litera- 
ture of  peoples  scattered  over  the  greater  part  of 
the  world.  It  has  been  confidently  argued  that 
these  all  originated  in  the  great  universal  Deluge, 
of  which  they  were  more  or  less  obscure  traditions 
handed  down  from  their  ancestors— Sh em,  Ham, 
and  Japheth.  Moreover,  special  stress  was  laid  on 
the  extraordinary  accuracy  with  which  the  memory 
of  certain  details  had  in  some  cases  been  preserved 
(see  below,  IV.  A.  v.). 

III.  Reasons  for  not  accepting  a  universal 
Deluge. — The  belief  in  a  universal  Deluge  has 
long  been  abandoned  by  well-informed  writers. 

1.  It  was  found  impossible  thus  to  account 
satisfactorily  for  the  various  races  of  mankind  and 
their  distribution.  Ethnological  research  suggested 
the  existence  of  races  altogether  independent  of 
the  Bible  system,  who  survived  the  Flood  and 
were  themselves  descended  from  a  pre-Adamite 
stock  (see  Antediluvians). 

2.  But  the  most  fatal  objections  are  those  that 
arise  from  a  study  of  the  natural  sciences. 

(a)  Geology,  as  now  understood,  gives  a  very  simple  and 
credible  account  of  the  history  of  the  world  by  natural  agencies — 
shrinkage,  gradual  sinkings  and  upheavals,  deposits  by  action  of 
animalculae  and  otherwise,  the  action  of  heat,  water,  and  ice, 
etc.,  in  which  a  Deluge  finds  no  place.     It  is,  in  fact,  absolutely 


Me 


DELUGE 


impossible,  unless  we  may  postulate  a  period  in  which  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth  was  so  even  that  all  the  water  possible  at  any 
given  time  could  have  covered  it  as  one  vast  ocean.  But  even 
if  this  ever  were  so,  such  a  Deluge  would  find  its  analogue,  not 
in  the  Bible  Flood,  but  in  the  '  deep  '  (tehdiri)  of  Gn  l2. 

(6)  The  study  of  comparative  Zoology  has  abundantly  proved 
that  there  is  no  definitely  marked  division  between  extinct 
species  of  animals  and  those  of  the  present  day  which  could  be 
accounted  for  by  such  a  break  in  the  history  of  the  animal  world. 
In  fact,  the  extinct  species,  as,  e.g.,  the  trilobite,  ammonite,  and 
ichthyosaurus,  had  died  out  countless  ages  before  man  appeared 
on  the  earth,  and  by  the  operation  of  natural  laws  which  still 
prevail. 

(c)  The  same  also  is  true  of  plant  life  and  its  history.  And  in 
this  connexion  it  may  be  observed  that  the  Bible  story,  in  con- 
tradistinction to  the  Akkadian  (see  below,  IV.  A.  vi.  (wi)),  says 
nothing  of  the  preservation  of  vegetation,  the  greater  part  of 
which  must  have  perished  had  the  Flood  lasted  a  year. 

3.  To  the  unscientific  mind,  however,  the  most 
striking  difficulties  are  those  which  arise  from  the 
obvious  improbabilities,  or  rather  impossibilities, 
of  the  story  of  Genesis  itself. 

Most  of  us  have  from  childhood,  through  the  influence  of 
pictures  and  toy-arks,  been  accustomed  to  imagine  Noah's  Ark 
as  a  great  vessel  with  a  huge  raised  hold  in  the  middle.  But 
there  is  nothing  in  the  Hebrew  <*nn  or  in  the  Bible  narrative  to 
suggest  anything  of  the  kind.  The  Ark  was  rather  a  huge  box 
with  a  closed  door  and  dark  windows,  which  had  to  be  opened 
for  its  inmates  to  look  out.  There  were  no  sails  or  oars,  no 
sailors  to  navigate  this  strange  structure  or  tell  Noah  what  he 
wished  to  know.  The  box,  nevertheless,  floated  safely  across 
what  one  would  naturally  have  supposed  a  stormy  sea  (see  Gn  711, 
and  cf.  Akkadian  story  [V.  A.  i.]),  and  that  for  presumably  some 
hundreds  of  miles  to  the  mountains  of  Armenia  (Ararat).  Large 
as  this  box  was,  it  was  infinitely  too  small  to  contain  sevens  of 
all  clean  animals,  and  pairs  of  unclean  animals,  as  we  now  know 
them.  But  this  is  what  the  story  requires,  unless  we  are  to 
suppose — a  thing  highly  improbable  in  itself,  and  opposed  to 
geological  records — that  there  has  been  a  very  large  evolution 
of  species  since  that,  geologically  speaking,  recent  period.  These 
animals,  thus  huddled  up  together,  are  tended  and  preserved  for 
apparently  a  whole  year  with  necessarily  huge  supplies  of  food 
of  various  kinds — animal  and  vegetable.  In  a  word,  four  men 
and  four  women  were  able  to  do,  under  such  conditions,  without, 
it  would  seem,  the  slightest  difficulty,  what  taxes  the  utmost 
skill  and  ingenuity  of  zoologists  with  such  space  and  under  such 
conditions  as  are  possible  in  our  Zoological  Gardens.  Imagine, 
for  example,  the  hippopotamus  or  the  seal  a  whole  year  without 
water,  or  the  polar  bear  cooped  up  for  a  single  year  in  the  vitiated 
atmosphere  of  a  '  room  '  in  the  Ark  1  But  even  these  difficulties 
are  hardly  so  bewildering  to  the  imagination  as  those  connected 
with  collecting  the  animals  and  getting  them  into  the  Ark.  If 
we  attempt  to  realize  the  journeys  necessary  to  the  Tropics  and 
the  Arctic  regions,  to  islands  and  continents,  to  marshes  and 
mountains  and  seas,  the  difficulty  of  capturing  all  these  animals 
alive,  bringing  them  back  and  getting  them  into  the  Ark,  we  are 
forced  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  absolutely  impossible,  except 
by  a  series  of  miracles,  of  which  the  story  in  the  Bible  gives  no 
hint.  The  whole  is  narrated  in  a  simple  childlike  way  by  those 
who  evidently  did  not  see  the  difficulties,  and  obviously  could 
not  have  seen  them  then  as  we  see  them  now. 

4.  A  further  ground  for  not  accepting  as  literally 
true  the  Bible  Deluge  story  will  be  found  by  com- 
paring it  with  parallel  stories  of  similar  origin 
which  will  presently  be  discussed.  It  will  be 
sufficient  to  observe  here  that  diverging  accounts 
of  any  supposed  event  tend  of  themselves  to  cast 
suspicion  on  any  one  of  them,  unless  that  is 
obviously  the  source  of  the  rest,  which  certainly 
cannot  be  proved  of  the  Bible  story. 

5.  To  these  difficulties  may  be  added,  in  con- 
clusion, the  general  difficulties  in  accepting  as 
historically  and  literally  true  the  early  chapters 
of  Genesis,  of  which  the  Deluge  story  forms  a 
part.  One  who  on  scientific  grounds  rejects  the 
literal  truth  of  Gn  1,  or  on  mythological  grounds 
that  of  Gn  2.  3,  would  very  naturally  feel  some 
Hesitation  in  accepting  the  Deluge  story,  even  if  it 
presented  no  serious  difficulties  of  its  own. 

IV.  Explanations  of  Deluge  stories  discussed. — 
But,  if  such  a  Deluge  as  that  described  in  the  Bible 
is  impossible,  at  least  without  a  series  of  improbable 
miracles,  how  else  explain  the  prevalence  of  that 
belief  among  so  many  and  so  far-separated  peoples  ? 
An  attempt  to  answer  this  question  will  form  the 
chief  subject  of  this  article.  It  involves  a  com- 
plicated inquiry.  The  Deluge,  or  Flood,  stories  in 
question  vary  so  greatly  that  a  really  adequate 
discussion  would  carry  us  beyond  our  necessary 
limits.     The  reader  will  grasp  the  full  force  of  the 


arguments  given  only  if  he  studies  for  himself  the 
stories  as  given  by  Andree  and  in  other  sources 
here  referred  to.  The  course  now  proposed  is  first 
to  give  the  answers  which  have  already  been 
suggested,  with  such  illustrations  and  comments 
as  may  help  the  student  towards  a  satisfactory 
solution,  and  then  to  discuss  separately  some  of 
the  more  important  stories  or  groups  of  stories  on 
mainly  ethnological  or  geographical  lines. 

Speaking  generally,  then,  the  following  five 
explanations  have  been  given  of  the  prevalence  of 
Deluge,  or  Flood,  stories  among  different  races  of 
mankind  :  that  they  are  {A )  traditions  of  the  Bible 
Deluge ;  (B)  traditions  of  independent,  generally 
local,  floods  of  greater  or  less  extent ;  (C)  pseudo- 
scientific  explanations  of  natural  phenomena  or 
the  like ;  (D)  parts  of  cosmological  systems  ;  (E) 
Nature  myths.  In  point  of  fact,  comparatively  few 
writers  have  adopted  any  one  of  these  theories 
exclusively.  Cheyne,  for  example,  in  his  article 
'Deluge,'  in  EBre,  made  a  marked  distinction 
between  a  Deluge  proper — a  supposed  submersion 
of  the  whole  world — and  partial  floods,  which  may 
have  given  rise  to  Deluge  stories.  Certainly  few, 
whatever  general  theory  of  Deluge  stories  they 
may  hold,  would  fail  to  recognize  that  the  Chinese 
story,  at  any  rate,  is  based  on  the  tradition  of  a 
local  flood. 

A.  The  traditional  origin  of  Deluge  stories. — Is 
the  belief  that  the  many  and  various  Deluge  stories 
of  different  parts  of  the  world  had  their  common 
origin  in  the  Flood  described  in  the  Bible,  borne 
out  by  the  stories  themselves  in  detail  and  by 
what  we  may  reasonably  infer  as  to  their  history  ? 

i.  Andree  lays  special  stress  on  the  fact  that 
there  are  many  parts  of  the  world  where  no  Deluge 
story  has  yet  been  discovered,  such  as  Egypt  ano 
Japan.  There  are  others,  such  as  Africa,  where 
they  are  very  rare.  It  is  therefore,  so  far  as  our 
present  knowledge  goes,  an  exaggeration  to  say, 
with  some  writers,  that  the  tradition  of  a  Deluge 
of  some  sort  is  practically  universal,  or  even,  as 
Lenormant  maintained  (Orig.  i.  489),  among  all 
except  black  races.  On  the  other  hand,  it  must 
frankly  be  recognized  that  Flood  stories  are  very 
numerous,  and  that  they  are  found  among  nations 
scattered  far  and  wide  over  the  world. 

ii.  Exceptions  must  be  made  of  a  large  number 
of  stories  which  have  evidently  a  local  origin. 

iii.  Account  must  be  taken  of  the  influence  of 
missionaries  in  unconsciously,  or  even  consciously, 
changing  and  developing  folklore,  and  of  the 
difficulty  which  the  savage  mind  has  in  dis- 
tinguishing clearly  between  old  and  new,  and  its 
frequent  tendency  to  paint  the  old  in  new  colours. 
It  was  the  avowed  policy  of  many  missionaries  to 
make  Bible  stories  more  acceptable  by  combining 
them  with  ideas  with  which  their  converts  were 
already  familiar.  Moreover,  the  missionary, 
through  whom  the  Deluge  stories  were  in  many 
cases  originally  communicated,  was  a  prejudiced 
witness.  He  had  a  very  natural  wish  to  find  con- 
firmation of  an  event  which  he  believed  to  be 
undeniably  true,  and  which  it  seemed  impiety  to 
deny.  No  wonder  if,  without  the  least  wish  to 
deceive,  he  encouraged  his  heathen  convert  to  give 
him  the  kind  of  information  he  desired,  and,  in 
reporting  it,  unconsciously  assimilated  it  still  more 
to  the  familiar  Bible  story.  Andree  (p.  Ill)  has 
given  an  interesting  example  of  the  way  in  which 
natives  were  sometimes  asked  leading  questions. 

iv.  That  many  of  the  Deluge  stories  current 
among  uncivilized  tribes  were  actually  coloured  by 
Christian  influence  becomes  evident  on  examina- 
tion of  the  stories  themselves.  For  it  will  be 
found  that — 

(a)  Those  Biblical  details  on  which  so  much 
stress  is  sometimes  laid  are  often  attached  to  a 


DELUGE 


547 


story  entirely  unlike  the  Bible  Deluge  narrative, 
both  in  character  and  in  purpose. 

Thus  the  sending  out  of  the  raven  and  the  dove  by  the  old 
man  who  had  found  refuge  from  the  Deluge  in  a  boat  on  one  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains  (Dene  Indians)  is  altogether  meaningless, 
and  yet,  according  to  Petitot,  it  is  almost  exactly  similar  to  the 
Bible  incident,  except  that  a  fir-branch  is  substituted  for  the 
there  unknown  olive-branch.  A  still  more  interesting  variation 
is  found  in  a  story  as  told  by  the  South-American  Macusi  tribe, 
in  which  a  rat  sent  out  to  investigate  matters  came  back  with  an 
ear  of  maize  in  its  mouth.  Here  the  Biblical  motive  is  combined 
with  the  common  feature  among  Indian  Deluge  stories  of  sending 
out  animals  to  procure  land  (see  below,  IV.  C.  (a)). 

(b)  The  Deluge  stories  which  thus  resemble  the 
Bible  narrative  in  some  of  its  details  often  betray 
their  Biblical  colouring  by  mixing  up  other  familiar 
Bible  stories,  such  as  the  creation  of  woman  and 
the  Tower  of  Babel. 

When  we  read  in  the  story  of  the  Macusi  just  referred  to  that, 
when  the  Good  Spirit  created  the  first  man,  the  latter  fell  into  a 
deep  sleep,  and  on  waking  up  found  a  woman  standing  by  his 
Bide,  we  are  not  surprised  to  hear  the  incident  of  the  rat  and  the 
ear  of  maize.  In  a  story  of  the  Papagos,  in  Arizona,  it  is  the 
hero  of  the  Deluge,  Montezuma,  who,  disregarding  the  warning 
of  the  Great  Spirit,  builds  a  house  that  should  reach  to  heaven, 
which  is  destroyed  before  its  completion  by  lightning  from 
heaven.  In  the  story  of  the  Washo,  a  Californian  tribe,  the 
slaves  are  compelled  by  their  masters  to  build  a  temple  as  a  place 
of  refuge  from  any  future  Flood.  When  a  great  earthquake 
with  a  terrible  rain  of  fire  occurs,  and  the  temple  sinks  up  to  its 
dome  in  the  Tahoe  Lake,  the  masters  clamber  in  vain  on  to  its 
top,  from  whence  they  are  hurled  by  the  angry  god.  Andree 
remarks  here  that  the  building  of  the  temple  is  evidently  a 
modern  feature  alien  to  the  customs  of  the  tribe,  and  certainly  a 
domed  temple  is  not  a  very  ancient  feature.  That  the  purpose 
of  the  temple  is  not  worship,  but  escape  from  the  Flood,  would 
seem  to  suggest  an  early  adaptation  of  the  Tower  of  Babel  story. 
It  would  thua  be  a  parallel  to  the  story  of  the  neighbouring 
Papagos,  and  to  that  of  the  Mandans  (see  IV.  A.  vi.  (£)). 

(c)  Speaking  generally,  what  have  the  appear- 
ance of  traits  due  to  Christian  influence  are  found 
most  frequently  in  those  countries  where  Christian 
influence  has  been  longest  at  work,  especially  on 
the  American  continent. 

v.  The  argument  from  Biblical  details  in  Flood 
stories  is  in  any  case  hazardous,  as  it  proves  too 
much.  We  find  details  not  given  in  the  Bible 
narrative  also  repeating  themselves  in  a  most 
remarkable  way  in  the  legends  of  localities  far 
removed  from  each  other. 

(1)  The  boat  or  raft  of  safety  m  frequently  described  as 
moored  by  a  rope.  A  new  element  is  sometimes  introduced  by 
some  of  the  ropes  not  being  long  enough  and  the  occupants  of 
the  boats  being  drowned  (Finns  [Lenormant,  Origines,  i.  465]). 
In  one  form  of  a  legend  of  the  Pelew  Islanders,  such  was  the 
fate  even  of  the  one  surviving  old  woman,  until  the  oldest  of  the 
gods  in  pity  revived  her.  (2)  Again,  the  Greek  story  of  Deukalion 
and  Pyrrha  and  the  stones  has  an  exact  analogy  in  the  Btory  of 
the  Maipuri,  in  which  the  coco-nuts  thrown  by  the  man  over  hia 
head  become  men,  those  thrown  by  the  woman,  women.  In  the 
legend  of  other  tribes  on  the  Orinoco,  as  also  of  the  Macusi, 
stones  were  thrown  by  the  surviving  man.  In  a  Lithuanian 
story  a  rainbow  was  sent  to  the  old  couple  to  comfort  them,  and 
to  advise  them,  if  they  would  have  offspring,  to  leap  over  '  the 
bones  of  the  earth.'  (3)  The  miraculous  growth  of  the  fish,  a 
conspicuous  feature  of  the  Indian  legend  (see  V.  D.  i.),  has  its 
counterpart  in  the  cuttle-fish  of  the  Thlinkits,  which  grew  so 
large  as  to  fill  the  whole  house. 

It  is  by  no  means  easy  to  say  how  far  features  of  this  kind  are 
actually  borrowed  from  other  stories,  and  how  far  they  are  the 
result  of  imagination  and  reason  acting  in  similar  fashion  on 
different  peoples.  There  is  certainly  no  difficulty  in  supposing 
that  the  tying  of  the  boat  was  introduced  as  the  moat  natural 
thing  for  the  aurvivora  to  do.  On  the  other  hand,  the  enig- 
matical phrase  '  bones  of  the  earth '  combined  with  the  consola- 
tion of  the  rainbow  (Lithuanians),  and  a  similar  combination  of 
the  stonea  story  with  the  rat  and  the  maize-ear  (Macusi,  see 
above,  IV.  A.  iv.  (a)),  suggest  that  both  elements  in  either  case 
were  due  originally  to  the  influence  of  Christian  teachers.  We 
can  readily  understand  how  well-educated  missionaries  might, 
in  drawing  attention  to  the  prevalence  of  Deluge  stories,  have 
inatanced  thatof  Deukalion,  and  how  such  a  picturesque  incident 
might  have  found  its  way  into  a  popular  folk-tale. 

vi.  The  extraordinary  variety  in  every  detail  in 
the  different  Deluge  stories  makes  it  improbable 
that  all  originated  from  one  traditional  story,  as 
will  best  be  realized  by  taking  what  might  be 
regarded  as  the  normal  type  and  pointing  out  some 
of  the  variations  which  we  find.  Thus  :  (a)  some 
god  or  gods,  angry  with  the  Antediluvians  (b) 
usually  on  some  specific  ground,  (c)  determine  to 
send  a  Deluge,  but  (d)  give  warning  of  it  to  some 


one  or  more  beings,  (e)  The  latter,  usually  follow- 
ing Divine  directions,  construct  some  kind  of  boat 
or  box,  or  adopt  some  other  means  of  escape. 
(./')  In  this  structure  they  preserve  also  the  neces- 
saries of  life,  including  domestic  animals,  more 
rarely  pairs  of  animals  generally,  (g)  Shortly 
after,  (A)  by  rain  or  other  means,  (i)  comes  a 
Deluge.  (J)  When  the  Deluge  subsides,  (&)  they 
land  on  some  mountain  or  island,  and  (I)  sometimes 
offer  a  sacrifice,  (to)  Future  descendants  of  men 
(and  sometimes  of  animals  also)  are  reproduced, 
often  in  a  miraculous  way.  (n)  The  survivors  (or 
the  chief  of  them)  are  translated  to  heaven. 

This  imaginary  norm,  from  which,  or  from 
something  like  it,  all  the  stories  might  naturally 
be  supposed  to  have  come,  is  obtained  by  putting 
together  the  features  which  are  most  frequently 
found.  No  story,  in  fact,  gives  them  all.  Even 
the  Bible  story  has  no  translation  of  Noah  (but  see 
Antediluvians).  The  Greek  legends  have  no 
post-diluvian  sacrifice,  and  the  Indian  story  in  its 
earliest  forms  gives  no  reason  at  all  for  the  Deluge. 
But,  apart  from  such  omissions,  we  find  variations, 
under  each  head,  of  almost  every  conceivable  kind. 

(a)  The  Deluge,  though  almost  always  the  work 
of  some  god,  is  occasionally,  among  the  North 
American  Indians,  ascribed  to  a  malignant  being, 
as  the  Black  Serpent  ( Algonquins),  an  eagle  ( Pimas), 
or  a  raven  (Hare  Indians). 

(6)  (1)  The  Deluge  is  a  punishment  for  sin,  not 
only  in  the  Bible,  but  among  the  Pelew  and  Fiji 
and  Society  Islanders,  the  Algonquins,  and  some 
others.  (2)  More  frequently  it  results  from  the 
resentment  of  a  god  for  some  act  of  violence  or 
personal  injury,  such  as,  rather  frequently,  the 
refusal  of  hospitality  (Greek  Deukalion  story)  or 
the  slaying  of  a  favourite.  Thus,  according  to  a 
Greek  Flood  story  preserved  by  Nonnus,  it  was 
sent  to  put  out  a  conflagration  caused  by  Zeus  for 
the  murder  of  Dionysos  by  the  Titans  (Usener, 
p.  42).  In  a  story  of  the  Fiji  Islanders  it  is  the 
anger  of  the  god  for  the  slaughter  of  his  favourite 
bird.  The  Dayaks  of  Borneo  attribute  a  great 
Flood  to  the  destruction  and  cooking  of  a  boa 
constrictor.  With  the  Hare  Indians  (N.  America) 
it  is  the  raven  who  brings  about  the  Deluge  to 
punish  the  Wise  Man  for  having  thrown  him  into 
the  fire,  though,  curiously  enough,  the  raven 
escapes  with  him  on  the  raft.  Even  more  original 
is  the  cause  of  the  Deluge  as  reported  from  the 
Leeward  Islands.  A  fisherman  who  had  been 
fishing  in  sacred  waters  caught  the  hair  of  the 
sea-god  as  the  latter  was  having  a  nap  (Ellis, 
Polynesian  Researches,  ii.  58).  (3)  In  the  Transyl- 
vanian  Gipsy  story  it  is  the  punishment  for  the 
disobedience  of  a  woman  in  eating  a  forbidden  fish 
— a  motive  which  may  have  originated  from  the 
Bible  story  of  the  Fall.  In  both  these  last  stories 
the  Deluge  appears  singularly  unreasonable.  In 
the  latter  the  woman  herself,  who  is  alone  re- 
sponsible for  the  crime,  is  slain  by  the  first  flash 
of  lightning;  in  the  former,  more  unfairly  still, 
the  fisherman,  his  wife,  and,  according  to  some 
versions  of  the  story,  a  few  friends,  are  alone 
allowed  to  escape. 

(c)  The  warning  of  the  Deluge  is  generally  made 
by  revelation,  sometimes  directly  (Genesis),  some- 
times by  another  god  than  the  author  of  the  Deluge 
(Akkadian),  often  through  the  medium  of  some 
animal,  as  the  fish,  which  a  later  form  of  the 
story  regards  as  an  incarnation  of  Visnu  (Indian), 
by  a  wounded  dog  (Cherokees),  or  by  llamas  to  a 
shepherd  (Peru).  The  last  two  cases  seem  to  have 
arisen  out  of  the  observed  faculty  that  some 
domestic  animals  have  of  foretelling  rain.  The 
motive  of  the  Indian  story  seems  connected  with 
an  ancient  mythological  conception,  which  attached 
a  peculiar  sanctity  to  the  fish.     In  a  story  of  the 


548 


DELUGE 


Pimas  a  warning  is  given  three  times  in  vain  by  an 
eagle  (himself  the  cause  of  the  Flood)  to  a  prophet 
(Bancroft,  NR  iii.  78). 

(d)  Those  who  are  permitted  to  escape  vary  very 
largely.  Frequently  it  is  one  person  only,  as  the 
old  man  in  the  Gipsy  story  referred  to  above,  the 
god's  son  Szeuka  (Pimas,  see  Bancroft,  iii.  78),  one 
woman  (Borneo),  or  frequently  a  man  and  his 
wife  (Darjlling,  Himalayas),  a  brother  and  sister 
( Kolarians,  East  India),  or  two  pairs  ( Andaman ese). 
Less  frequently  a  few  friends  or  relatives  are  also 
saved,  as  in  the  Bible  and  in  the  Leeward  Islands 
stories,  where,  however,  accounts  differ.  Rarely 
we  find  a  considerable  number,  including  slaves 
(Akkadian).  In  a  highly  original  story  of  Kabadi, 
in  New  Guinea,  all  the  men  escape  by  getting  up 
into  the  peak  of  a  mountain  and  waiting  till  the 
Deluge  has  subsided.  In  other  stories  they  are  all 
destroyed,  and  the  Deluge  is  followed  by  a  new 
creation  (Kashmir).  Especially  was  this  the  case 
where  the  purpose  of  the  Deluge  was  the  destruc- 
tion of  monsters  (see  ANTEDILUVIANS).  In  some 
American  Indian  stories  it  is  an  animal  only  that 
survives,  such  as  the  coyote  (Wappo,  etc.,  Cali- 
fornia) ;  in  a  legend  of  the  neighbouring  Papagos, 
it  is  the  coyote  and  the  demi-god  Montezuma,  while 
the  Thlinkits  make  the  raven  and  his  mother  the 
sole  survivors. 

(e)  While  by  far  the  most  usual  means  of  escape 
is  by  one  or  more  boats  or  rafts,  there  are  a  few 
legends  outside  the  Bible  story  in  which  a  larger  or 
smaller  box  or  ark  serves  the  purpose,  as  with  the 
Banar  of  Cambodia  and  in  some  forms  of  the  Greek 
Deukalion  legend.  Possibly  this  is  the  origin  of 
the  so-called  '  Big  Canoe,'  a  sort  of  sacred  tub, 
which  forms  the  centre  of  extremely  curious  cere- 
monies among  the  N.  American  Mandans,  which 
are  certainly  connected  with  some  old  Deluge 
story  (see  G.  Catlin,  O-Kee-pa,  London,  1866). 
Very  frequently  the  refugees  escape  to  a  mountain, 
either  by  means  of  a  boat  or  directly,  and  some 
very  curious  and  graphic  accounts  are  given  of  the 
straits  to  which  the  survivors  were  reduced,  as  the 
water  came  higher  and  higher. 

Thus  in  a  legend  of  the  Ojibwas,  Manabozho,  when  the  waters 
have  reached  the  mountain  peak,  gets  up  into  the  topmost  branch 
of  a  fir-tree,  where  the  waters  gradually  rise  to  his  mouth,  in 
which  position  he  has  to  wait  five  days  before  he  discovers  a 
means  of  safety.  In  another  story  the  survivors  escape  from 
the  mountain  peak  in  a  coco-nut  shell  thrown  down  casually  by 
a  god  as  he  was  feasting  (Lithuanians) ;  and  in  yet  another  it  ia 
by  a  canoe  which  the  survivor  makes  out  of  a  piece  of  the  sky 
(Sac  and  Fox  Indians).  In  not  a  few  stories  the  survivors  escape 
by  simply  climbing  up  into  a  fruit-tree  (Karens  in  Burma,  Tupi 
in  Brazil,  Acawaios  in  British  Guiana),  or,  more  curiously  still, 
by  sheltering  under  a  tree  (Mundari  of  East  India).  In  some 
Peruvian  stories  the  mountain  of  refuge  itself  floats  on  the 
Deluge  like  a  boat.  Caves  are,  singularly  enough,  the  place  of 
refuge  in  a  legend  of  the  Mexican  Cholula  and  of  the  Arawaks 
of  British  Guiana,  and  the  hole  of  a  monster  land-crab  serves  the 
purpose  in  the  story  of  the  Uraus,  a  tribe  of  the  Kolarian 
Indians.  From  a  translation  of  a  very  remarkable  bark  picto- 
graph  of  a  tribe  of  the  Algonquins,  it  would  appear  that  the 
place  of  refuge  was  a  turtle's  back,  which  became  identified  with 
an  island.  But  quaintest  of  all  is  the  story  of  the  Crees,  in 
which  the  one  surviving  girl  saves  hersell  by  catching  hold  of 
the  foot  of  an  eagle,  which  carries  her  to  the  top  of  a  lofty 
mountain.  In  the  Thlinkit  story  the  raven  and  his  mother 
escape  in  the  skins  of  cranes ;  in  that  of  the  Papagos  the  coyote 
saves  himself  in  a  bamboo  sealed  with  resin. 

(/)  Speaking  generally,  food  for  the  future  is 
provided  in  one  of  two  ways,  either  by  the  sur- 
vivors taking  it  with  them,  as  in  the  Bible  story, 
or  by  its  being  produced  in  some  marvellous  way 
afterwards.  The  preservation  of  animals,  apart 
from  their  use  for  food  and  sacrifice,  is  very  rare, 
not  being  found  even  in  the  Akkadian  version,  and 
is  probably  derived  from  the  Bible  story.  Food  is 
miraculously  brought  to  the  surviving  brothers  by 
two  primeval  parrots  in  a  Peruvian  story  (cf.  Elijah 
and  the  ravens) ;  in  another  the  survivors  feed  on 
fish,  which  they  warm  under  their  arm-pits  (Tolowa 
in  California). 


(g)  The  Deluge  in  many  stories  comes  without 
warning,  as,  it  would  appear,  the  necessary  con- 
sequence of  crime,  e.g.  the  cooking  of  the  fish  and 
the  serpent  respectively  in  the  Gipsy  and  Dayal 
stories  already  referred  to.  More  frequently  it  ia 
after  a  short  interval  of  a  day  or  so,  not  foretold 
beforehand.  The  7th  day  of  the  Bible  (Gn  74- 10), 
and  probably  of  the  Akkadian  story  also,  has  its 
parallel  in  a  late  version  of  the  Indian  story  (see 
below,  V.  D.  i.  (3)). 

(h)  The  physical  causes  to  which  the  Deluge  is 
assigned  in  different  legends  are  numerous.  Natur- 
ally enough  it  is  generally  rain,  often  with  thunder 
and  lightning.  In  a  Sac  and  Fox  Indian  story  the 
rain  is  said  to  have  fallen  in  drops  as  large  as  a 
wigwam.  Less  frequently  it  is  the  incursion  of  a 
wave  (Washo,  California),  or  the  pouring  in  of  the 
water  of  the  sea  on  to  the  land  (Makah  Indians  of 
Cape  Flattery).  Sometimes  it  is  the  sudden  melt- 
ing of  the  winter  snow,  as  when  a  mouse  gnawed 
through  the  bag  containing  the  heat  and  let  it 
out  (Chippewas).  Sometimes  the  cause  ascribed  is 
veiy  fantastic.  A  man  accidentally  lets  fall  and 
breaks  the  jar  containing  the  water  of  the  ocean 
which  he  had  picked  up  out  of  curiosity  (Haiti), 
and  it  is  the  same  motive,  with  the  same  fatal 
consequences,  that  tempts  the  ape  to  remove  the 
mat  which  covered  the  waters  in  a  hollow  tree 
through  which  they  communicated  with  the  ocean 
(Acawaios). 

(i)  In  a  Finnish  story  the  Deluge  is  of  hot  water. 
According  to  a  legend  of  the  Quiche  Indians,  a 
deluge  of  resin  followed  one  of  water,  and  in  some 
cases  fire  may  be  said  to  take  the  place  of  water, 
the  conflagration  story  being  in  many  respects 
analogous  to  the  more  usual  deluge  of  water'  ( Yura- 
cares  of  Bolivia,  Mundari  of  East  India ;  cf.  artt. 
Ages  of  the  World). 

In  extent  the  Deluge  varies  from  an  obviously 
local  flood  to  a  universal  deluge.  Very  frequently 
everything  is  covered  except  a  few  lofty  ranges  such 
as  the  Rocky  Mountains  (Dene  Indians).  In  one 
Australian  legend  the  low  island  of  refuge  alone 
remained  uncovered,  when  the  lofty  mountain  on 
the  mainland,  on  which  the  people  had  taken 
refuge,  was  submerged,  this  idea  probably  arising 
from  a  not  uncommon  notion  that  islands  float. 

(j)  The  duration  of  the  Deluge  is  very  seldom 
given,  and,  as  the  two  Bible  narratives  differ  both 
from  one  another  and  from  the  Akkadian  (see 
below,  V.  A.  i.),  little  importance  need  be  attached 
to  the  fact  that  40  days,  in  agreement  with  the 
Bible  (J),  is  the  duration  of  the  Deluge  according 
to  some  of  the  legends  of  the  Polynesian  Islands 
(see  Max  Miiller  in  Preface  to  Gill's  Myths).  It  is 
hardly  likely  that  in  all  these  centuries  a  single 
isolated  detail  should  have  been  accurately  pre- 
served which  had  become  obliterated  in  what  were, 
ex  hypothesi,  comparatively  early  recollections  of 
the  fact. 

(k)  See  under  (e). 

(I)  This  is  an  uncommon  feature  almost  confined 
to  the  Semitic  legends  and  some  forms  of  the 
Deukalion  story.  In  the  most  important  Indian 
story  the  Deluge  leads  up  to  a  very  complicated 
and  scarcely  intelligible  religious  ceremony;  but 
this  belongs  rather  to  the  next  head. 

(m)  The  most  striking  example  of  this  is  the 
story  of  Deukalion  and  Pyrrha;  but,  as  already 
pointed  out  (IV.  A.  v.  (2)),  it  has  its  analogies  and 
possibly  its  derivatives  in  a  Lithuanian  and  in 
certain  S.  American  Indian  stories.  A  more  re- 
markable proceeding  is  that  of  the  surviving 
coyote,  who,  according  to  the  Wappo  Indians, 
planted  feathers  wherever  the  wigwams  used  to 
stand  and  they  grew  into  men  and  women.  A 
similar  story  is  told  by  Bancroft  (iii.  87)  of  some 
Californian  tribes  who  relate  that  men  were  created 


DELUGE 


549 


by  the  coyote  and  a  feather  which  became  an  eagle. 
Tne  Dene  Indians  sometimes  asserted  that  the 
gods  changed  animals  into  men,  but  it  is  not  ex- 
plained where  the  animals  came  from.  In  a  story 
of  the  Pimas  Szeuka,  the  surviving  son  of  a  god, 
having  slain  the  eagle  which  had  caubed  the  Deluge, 
restored  to  life  those  whom  it  had  killed  (Bancroft, 
iii.  78).  The  Indian  post-diluvian  rite  was  a  com- 
plicated sacrificial  ceremony  by  which  Manu  was 
apparently  directed  to  produce  both  men  and 
animals  by  an  ottering  of  clarified  butter.  But  it 
is  impossible  here  to  distinguish  primitive  legend 
from  later  ritual  and  mystic  accretions. 

Where  there  is  a  single  survivor,  or  only  sur- 
vivors of  one  sex,  the  re-peopling  of  the  earth  is 
frequently  effected  by  union  with  some  god  or 
animal. 

We  have  an  example  of  the  former  in  a  story  of  the  Pelew 
Islanders.  In  the  story  of  the  Crees  the  surviving  maiden 
forms  an  alliance  with  the  great  eagle,  through  whom  she  has 
effected  her  escape.  In  a  Peruvian  story  one  of  the  surviving 
brothers  seizes  the  parrot  who  has  brought  him  food  and  she 
becomes  his  wife.  In  the  Akkadian  story  the  preservation  of 
seed  is  almost  a  unique  feature.  The  necessity  of  re-planting 
the  earth,  or  at  any  rate  of  re-stocking  it  with  cereals  and 
vegetables,  does  not  generally  seem  to  have  suggested  itself. 

(n)  The  apotheosis  of  the  chief  survivors  is  an 
important  feature  of  the  Babylonian  story.  There 
may  possibly  be  a  trace  of  it  also  in  Gn  69  (P  ;  cf. 
Gn  5M  ;  see  ANTEDILUVIANS). 

If,  then,  the  argument  from  the  many  existing 
Deluge  stories  were  pressed,  the  most  that  it  could 
with  any  reason  be  supposed  to  prove  would  be 
a  purely  colourless  tradition  of  a  Deluge  or  great 
Flood  of  some  sort ;  but  any  such  argument  would 
have  to  be  largely  discounted,  if  not  altogether 
neutralized,  by  facts  to  be  considered  under  the 
next  head. 

B.  Local  inundations.  —  That  this  supposition 
will  account  for  a  very  large  number  of  Flood 
stories  is  obvious. 

i.  The  Chinese  Deluge  story  is  merely  an  early 
tradition,  though  highly  coloured,  of  such  an  in- 
undation as  has  frequently  taken  place  in  the 
"alley  of  the  Hwang  Ho  (see  V.  E.  ii.,  iii.). 

ii.  Such  stories  are  especially  frequent  in  volcanic 
districts  subject  to  earthquakes  and  seismic  waves, 
as  in  the  Prince  of  Wales  Peninsula  (Bering 
Strait),  Cape  Flattery  (Washington),  or  the  Tahoe 
Lake  in  California.  In  a  legend  connected  with 
the  last-named  place  the  inundation  is  expressly 
ascribed  to  a  monster  wave  which  burst  over  the  land. 
In  the  story  of  Cape  Flattery,  the  prairie  which  was 
flooded  was  certainly  once  submarine,  and  has  an 
alluvial  deposit  of  about  a  foot,  as  Swan  argues, 
who  gave  the  story  in  Smithsonian  Contributions 
to  Knowledge,  vol.  xvi.  (quoted  by  Eells  in  Ainer. 
Antiquarian,  i.  70-72).  In  northern  districts  the 
Deluge  is  sometimes  assigned  to  the  melting  of  the 
snow  {e.g.  Chippewas),  and  very  probably  origin- 
ated in  a  reminiscence  of  an  exceptional  inundation 
from  such  a  cause.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the 
Deluge  stories  of  island  peoples.  The  experience  of 
high  tides  occasioned  by  storms  would  naturally 
make  an  impression  upon  the  active  imagination 
of  a  savage  race,  and  occasion,  or  at  any  rate  give 
a  certain  colour  to,  stories  of  this  kind.  Such  tides 
are  the  common  nightmare  of  a  child  living  by  the 
sea ;  and  the  normal  savage  is  like  a  clever  child 
only  half  awake.  A  more  potent  cause  might  be 
found  in  the  submergence  or  appearance  of  islands 
through  volcanic  action. 

iii.  That  so  many  Deluge  stories  obviously  origin- 
ated in  purely  local  events  makes  it  highly  prob- 
able that  this  is  the  true  explanation  of  many 
others,  where  the  local  cause  has  been  obscured  as 
a  tradition,  has  then  become  a  legend,  and  has 
finally  passed  into  a  myth,  the  tendency  of  the 
imagination  being  towards  making  the  story  more 
and  more  wonderful.     Thus,  what  was  originally 


a  local  Hood  may  become  a  universal  Deluge,  the 
surviving  ancestors  being  a  few  single  individuals 
out  of  the  human  race.  What  was  quite  natural 
is  ascribed  to  the  direct,  and  often  quite  miraculous, 
action  of  Divine  Beings.  How  far  any  particular 
story  can  be  thus  explained  must  be  considered  on 
its  own  merits. 

C.  Explanations  of  natural  phenomena. — How 
far  did  Deluge  and  Flood  stories  arise  as  a  hypo- 
thetical explanation  of  observed  facts  or  racial 
conditions  ? 

(a)  They  often  appear  as  a  pseudo-scientific  ex- 
planation of  natural  phenomena.  The  savage  mind 
would  naturally  ask,  How  came  the  sea  and  land, 
mountains  and  valleys,  and  lakes  and  islands  to  be 
where  they  are  and  what  they  are?  Whence 
differences  of  colour,  language,  and  character? 
How  came  the  fossils  which  are  found  upon  the 
hills  ?  To  these  questions  they  found  an  answer  in 
the  hypothesis  of  a  great  Deluge  which  left  the  fish 
turned  into  stone  on  the  land  (Eskimo  [see  Hall, 
Life  with  the  Esquimaux,  London,  1864,  ii.  318], 
Leeward  Islanders,  Samoan  Islanders) ;  or  formed 
a  large  lake  (such  as  the  Tahoe  in  California,  or 
Dilolo  Lake  on  the  southern  border  of  the  Congo 
State) ;  or  caused  men  to  seek  refuge  in  distant 
lands,  to  divide  and  learn  different  languages 
(Twanas  [Washington],  Makah  Indians  of  Cape 
Flattery,  Thlinkits,  Bella-Coolas) ;  or  left  the  red 
colouring  on  the  Indians'  skin  (Crees).  Sometimes 
the  Deluge  plays  quite  a  subordinate  part  in  a 
story  which  itself  serves  a  different  purpose. 

A  Deluge  story  of  the  Pelew  Islanders  is  connected  with  a 
picturesque  account  of  the  origin  of  the  red  stripe  on  the  head 
of  the  bird  called  the  tariit  (Rallus  pectoralis).  A  Persian 
Deluge  myth,  among  other  motives,  explains  the  saltness  of  the 
sea.  In  an  interesting  myth  connected  with  Mangaia  (Cook 
Islands),  the  general  purpose  of  which  is  to  explain  the  origin  of 
the  coco-nut,  the  Flood  is  merely  required  to  bring  up  the  eel, 
out  of  whom  the  coco-nut  grew,  to  the  door  of  the  maiden  Ina's 
hut,  whose  pious  duty  it  was  to  slay  him.  In  fact,  there  ifl 
another  version  of  the  same  myth  in  which  there  is  no  Flond  at 
all  (Gill,  Mytlis,  v.  77-81).  Gill,  who  was  for  22  years  a  missionary 
in  the  Hervey  Group,  had  specially  favourable  opportunities 
of  collecting  stories  uninfluenced  by  Christian  teaching,  as  he 
obtained  them  direct  from  Tereavai,  the  last  priest  of  the  god 
Tiaio,  who  took  the  double  form  of  a  shark  and  an  eel.  Inci- 
dentally also  the  Flood  Btory  given  above  accounts  for  the 
passage  by  which  the  water  drains  into  the  sea.  In  another 
legend,  told  by  Gill,  the  chief  object  of  the  Flood  was  to  put 
out  the  furnace  in  which  Miru,  the  hag  of  the  nether  world,  had 
designed  to  cook  Ngaru.  The  Flood  puts  out  the  furnace 
and  permits  Ngaru  to  effect  his  escape. 

It  is  very  probable  that  to  the  same  intelligent 
curiosity  we  must  refer  those  many  stories  which 
seem  to  lead  up  to  the  origin  of  land,  or  at  least  of 
islands. 

There  is  an  old  Indian  legend  according  to  which  Visnu  in  his 
avatdra  as  a  boar  brings  up  land  from  the  bottom  of  the  ocean 
(Muir,  Original  Sanskrit  Texts,  vol.  i.2  [Lond.  1S73],  chs.  i.  and 
vii. ).  With  this  we  may  compare  the  legend,  that  Rangi  pulled 
up  the  island  of  Mangaia  out  of  the  nether  world.  But  there 
are  several  apparently  analogous  stories  among  the  American 
Indians  connected  with  a  Deluge  which  occurs  as  an  event,  not 
as  a  primordial  condition.  In  such  stories  some  animal,  a  duck 
or  beaver  or  fish,  more  often  a  musk-rat,  dives  down  for  earth 
and  brings  it  up  between  its  feet  or  in  its  mouth  (Sac  and 
Fox  Indians,  Chippewas,  Ojibwas).  Some  have  compared  the 
curious  sequel  to  the  sending  out  of  birds  by  Xisuthros  in 
the  later  Babylonian  story.  But  there  the  clay  on  the  feet  of 
the  birds  is  a  proof  of  the  re-appearance  of  ground,  on  which, 
though  still  wet,  the  birds  could  walk,  and  it  is  a  far  less  poeti- 
cal variant  of  the  dove  and  the  olive  branch.  It  is  very  unlikely 
that,  as  Andree  thinks,  the  sending  out  of  animals  in  the 
American  Indian  stories  has  any  connexion  with  that  Bible 
incident.  More  probably  it  is  an  ancient  myth  accounting  for 
the  origin  of  land  among  an  originally  seafaring  people,  which 
has  become  mixed  up  with  later  inundation  traditions  of  a  more 
local  character. 

(6)  It  seems  probable  that  in  some  cases,  among 
island  and  coast-land  peoples,  the  Deluge  story 
originated  in  the  tradition  of  the  early  migration 
of  the  people.  In  such  cases  the  ocean  is  itself  the 
Deluge,  and  the  island  or  coast-land  the  home  to 
which  they  escaped.  In  some  such  way  the  Binnas 
account  for  their  settlement  in  the  Malay  Penin- 
sula.    How  easily  traditions  of  such  a  kind  could 


550 


DELUGE 


pass  into  myths  may  be  seen  in  many  of  these 
Deluge  stories,  in  which  comparatively  recent 
events  have  become  interwoven  with  them. 

Thus  a  Deluge  myth  of  Western  Australia  is  connected  with 
a  quarrel  between  *  black '  and  '  white '  races,  and  can  have 
originated  or  taken  its  present  shape  only  after  the  first 
English  settlements  in  the  country.  In  a  Deluge  myth  of  the 
Papagos,  the  Great  Spirit,  unable  otherwise  to  tame  Mon- 
tezuma's rebellious  temper,  sent  an  insect  into  the  unknown 
land  of  the  East  to  fetch  the  Spaniards,  who  destroyed  Monte- 
zuma, and  people  no  longer  worshipped  him  as  god.  Here 
Montezuma,  an  Aztec  ruler,  who  was  actually  killed  by  the 
Spaniards  in  1520,  has  become  the  demi-god  hero  of  an  ancient 
Flood  myth. 

D.  Deluge  stories  explained  as  part  of  a  definite 
cosmological  system. — This  has  been  incidentally 
touched  upon  under  the  last  head.  Some  of  the 
Deluge  myths  might  certainly  be  so  explained, 
e.g.  that  of  Visnu  in  his  avatara  as  a  boar  bringing 
up  land  from  the  bottom  of  the  ocean.  But  in 
such  stories  the  ocean  is  not  so  much  a  Deluge  as 
the  primeval  Deep  (cf.  Dinp,  Gn  l2).  As  a  rule, 
however,  such  conceptions  are  hardly  of  a  kind  to 
account  for  the  general  prevalence  of  Deluge  stories. 
Moreover,  the  savage  mind,  at  any  rate,  was 
essentially  local  and  limited  in  its  range,  and  com- 

Erised    within    its    view  very  little    beyond    the 
orizon  of  its  ordinary  experience. 

E.  Deluge  stories  explained  as  Nature  myths. — 
In  this  view  some  forms  of  the  Deluge  story, 
especially  those  of  Palestine,  Babylon,  Greece,  and 
India,  are  a  mythical  representation  of  some  ordi- 
nary natural  phenomenon  of  constant  recurrence. 
Noah  in  his  Ark  is  generally  regarded  by  its  ex- 
ponents as  a  sun  myth,  but  as  regards  the  inter- 
pretation of  the  story  there  is  a  wide  divergence  of 
opinion. 

1.  Cheyne,  for  example  (see  art.  '  Deluge,'  in  EBfQ),  following 
Schirren  and  Gerland,  suggests  that  the  Deluge  has  been  trans- 
ferred from  the  sky  to  the  earth.  So  understood,  the  progress 
of  Noah  in  the  Ark,  like  that  of  Zeus  in  his  chariot,  is  a  mythical 
interpretation  of  the  course  of  the  sun.  But  this  would  imply 
an  incredible  twist  of  the  primitive  imagination. 

2.  Usener,  on  the  other  hand,  who  has  written  on  the  subject 
at  very  great  length,  makes  the  whole  point  of  the  myth  lie  in 
the  landing  of  the  Deluge  hero,  which  represents  the'rmnp  sun. 
He  derives  his  argument  partly  from  philology,  but  chiefly  from 
comparative  mythology.  He  explains  Deukalion  as  '  the  little 
Zeus ' — a  suitable  name  for  the  newborn  sun,  and  he  compares  the 
many  stories,  such  as  those  of  Perseus  and  Oedipus,  in  which  a 
child  is  thrown  into  the  sea  in  a  chest  or  otherwise,  and  whose 
landing  gives  rise  to  some  cult,  which  he  connects  sometimes, 
rather  curiously,  with  that  of  the  sun.  In  fact,  almost  every 
legend  which  has  for  its  theme  any  one  traversing  the  sea  in  a 
marvellous  manner,  from  Arion  on  his  dolphin  to  the  legend  of 
Lucian's  corpse,  is  made  to  serve  his  purpose.  Usener  finds 
developments  of  the  same  idea  in  fairy  tales,  Christian  legends, 
and  many  ni3*ths  and  religious  customs,  coins,  etc.,  representing 
the  sun-god,  be  it  Dionysus  or  Saturn,  in  a  ship.  Strangest  of 
all  are  the  illustrations  drawn  from  the  legend  of  St.  Christopher 
bearing  the  Infant  Christ,  and  even  an  ancient  picture  of 
Christ's  baptism.  He  lays  great  stress  on  the  fact  that  the 
season  of  Baptism  was  called  Epiphaneia,  an  emblem  of  rising 
light,  and  even  directs  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  water  is  de- 
picted as  stormy,  seeing  in  this  the  idea  that  the  water  was  con- 
ceived as  lifting  up  the  Christ.  Similarly  the  Deluge  might  be 
regarded  as  lifting  up  the  sun-god  In  the  Ark,  preparatory  to 
his  landing,  i.e.  rising.  Such  arguments  as  these  hardly  need 
serious  discussion. 

F.  General  conclusion. — Speaking  generally,  the 
comparative  study  of  Deluge  legends  tends  to  make 
it  more  and  more  evident  that,  while  a  very  large 
proportion  of  them  certainly  arose  originally  out 
of  local  events,  these  have  always  been  highly 
coloured,  and  not  infrequently  quite  transformed, 
by  the  imagination,  which  among  more  uncivilized 
races  saw  all  Nature  teeming  with  conscious  life  in 
manifold  forms.  Either  in  conjunction  with  such 
traditions,  or  sometimes  independently  of  them, 
Deluge  stories  arose  out  of  an  inquisitive  creative 
imagination,  which. first  sought  to  explain  the 
natural  wonders  of  the  present  by  even  greater 
wonders  in  the  past,  and  by  a  process  of  repetition 
changed  the  guesses  of  an  earlier  into  the  traditions 
of  a  later  age.  Like  all  folklore,  such  stories  have 
a  living  interest  to  the  student  of  psychology,  but 
are  of  far  less  importance  in  the  comparative  study 


of  religion.  It  should  be  added  that,  though  the 
common  derivation  of  Deluge  stories  from  the  Bible 
Deluge  can  no  longer  be  maintained,  the  Bible 
story  and  those  related  to  it  have  had  in  various 
ways  a  wide  and  important  influence  upon  a  large 
number  of  them. 

V.  Groups  of  Deluge  stories.—  A.  Semitic— 
The  Semitic  Deluge  story  is  found  in  three  forms : 
(i.)  that  of  the  Akkadian  tablets,  (ii.)  the  Bible 
Deluge,  and  (iii.)  the  story  as  narrated  by  later 
Babylonian  historians,  esp.  Berossus.  It  is  now 
generally  recognized  by  scholars  of  different  schools 
that  (i.)  represents  the  most  ancient  form  of  the 
story,  of  which  (iii.)  is  merely  a  variant,  while  (ii.) 
is  a  very  different  version  of  the  old  story  adapted 
to  an  altogether  different  conception.  The  grounds 
on  which  this  opinion  is  based  are :  (1)  the  belief 
that,  though  the  date  of  the  inscription  upon  the 
Akkadian  tablets  is  probably  about  660  B.C.,  it  is 
a  copy  of  a  poem  dating  from  at  least  2000  B.C.,  as 
is  confirmed  by  the  mutilated  fragment  of  another 
Babylonian  Deluge  story,  discovered  by  Seheil  at 
Abu  Habbah  (Sippara),  the  colophon  of  which 
points  to  a  date  for  the  inscription  of  2250-2150 
B.C.  (see  Ball,  p.  43) ;  (2)  that  the  tablets  belonged, 
roughly  speaking,  to  the  country  from  which  the 
Israelitish  people  migrated ;  (3)  that  the  story 
itself,  in  both  its  Biblical  and  Akkadian  forms,  is 
connected  more  nearly  with  the  same  region  of  the 
world  than  with  Palestine  (note  the  mountains 
of  Nizir  [Akkadian],  Ararat  [Bible]) ;  (4)  that  the 
Akkadian  story  is  based  on  the  religious  ideas  of 
that  country  and  the  worship  of  the  ancient  gods 
of  Babylonia,  while  that  of  Genesis  is  conceived 
in  the  spirit  of  the  high  morality  and  monotheism 
of  the  Jews. 

i.  The  Akkadian  Deluge  story.— The  Ak- 
kadian Deluge  story,  discovered  by  George  Smith 
in  1872  among  some  monuments  in  the  British 
Museum,  was  inscribed  on  the  eleventh  of  twelve 
tablets,  each  containing  one  canto  of  an  ancient 
epic  poem.  Each  tablet  is  connected  with  a  sign 
of  the  zodiac,  and,  as  the  eleventh  is  that  corre- 
sponding to  Aquarius,  the  Deluge  story  is  particu- 
larly suitable. 

The  epic  relates  the  adventures  of  a  certain 
Gilgames,  who  is  frequently  identified  by  scholars 
with  the  Nimrod  of  Genesis.  In  order  to  seek  a 
remedy  for  sickness,  he  pays  a  visit  to  his  ancestor 
Sitnapisti  (Nuhnapishtim  [Ball])  at  the  mouth  of 
the  river  Euphrates,  and  Sttnapisti  gives  him  an 
account  of  the  Deluge  and  of  his  own  translation, 
of  which  the  following  is  an  abstract : 

The  gods  in  Surippak,  even  then  an  old  city,  determine  to 
send  a  Deluge.  Ea,  the  lord  of  wisdom,  reveals  their  purpose 
to  Sitnapisti,  and  bids  him  build  a  ship  of  certain  dimensions, 
there  bring  the  seed  of  life,  and  launch  it.  Sitnapisti  carries 
out  these  instructions,  building  it  120  cubits  (?)  high,  of  six 
storeys,  and  divided  into  seven  parts,  pouring  over  it  several 
measures  of  '  pitch '  both  inside  and  out,  and  providing  it 
with  oars.  Having  celebrated  a  great  sacrificial  feast  with 
oxen  and  sheep,  beer,  wine,  oil,  and  grapes,  he  brings  into 
the  Ark  stores  of  gold  and  silver,  beasts  of  the  field,  man- 
servants and  maid-servants,  and  the  sons  of  his  people  ('all 
the  craftsmen '  [Ball]).  Having  done  so,  Sitnapisti  is  bidden  to 
enter  and  shut  the  door,  and  to  await  the  Deluge  that  night. 
He  appoints  Buzur-sadi-rabi  (Smith  and  Sayce  ['  Buzur  bel,' 
Haupt  and  Ball])  his  pilot,  and  waits  in  dread  for  the  storm, 
which  bursts  forth  next  morning.  The  description  of  the  storm 
and  the  consternation  of  the  gods  are  thus  graphically  and 
forcibly  described  (87-111) : 

'  When  the  first  light  of  dawn  appeared, 
There  arose  from  the  fountain  of  heaven  a  black  cloud  ; 
Rimmon  in  the  heart  of  it  thunders,  and 
Nebo  and  Merodach  march  before  ; 
The  Throne-bearers  march  o'er  mountain  and  plain. 
The  mighty  Dibbarra  (or  Girra)  wrenches  away  the  helm  ; 

Ninib  goes  on  pouring  out  ruin. 
The  Anunnaki  (earth-spirits)  lifted  torches ; 
With  their  sheen  they  lighten  the  world. 
Rimmon's  violence  reacheth  to  heaven  ; 
Whatever  is  bright  he  turneth  to  darkness. 


One  day  the  Southern  blast  . 
Hard  it  blew,  and  .  .  . 


DELUGE 


551 


Like  a  battle-charge  upon  mankind  rush  [the  waters]. 

One  no  longer  sees  another  ; 

No  more  are  men  discerned  in  (descried  from)  heaven. 

The  gods  were  dismayed  at  the  Hood,  and 

Sought  refuge  in  ascending  to  highest  heaven  (lit.  the  heaven 
of  Anu) ; 

The  gods  cowered  like  dogs  ,  on  the  battlements  [of  heaven] 
they  crouched. 

Ishtar  screams  like  a  woman  in  travail, 

The  loud-voiced  Lady  of  the  gods  exclaims : 

"  Yon  generation  is  turned  again  to  clay  1 

As  I  in  the  assembly  of  the  gods  foretold  the  evil. 

A  tempest  for  the  destruction  of  my  people  I  foretold. 

But  I  will  give  birth  to  my  people  [again],  though 

Like  fry  of  fishes  they  fill  the  sea." 

The  gods,  because  of  the  Anunnaki  wept  with  her; 

The  gods  were  downcast,  they  sate  a-weeping ; 

Closed  were  their  lips '  (Ball,  p.  38  f.). 

For  6  days  and  nights  the  storm  rages,  and  abates  on  the 
7th,  when  the  waters  begin  to  subside.  Sitnapisti  weeps  at  the 
sight  of  the  corpses;  he  opens  the  window,  however,  and  dis- 
covers distant  land.  Thither  the  ship  steers,  and  grounds 
on  Mt.  Nizir.  Here,  after  another  7  days'  interval,  Sitnapisti 
sends  forth  a  dove,  which  finds  no  resting-place,  and  returns. 
He  then  sends  forth  a  swallow,  which  finds  no  resting-place,  and 
returns  ;  then  a  raven,  which,  when  it  sees  that  the  waters  have 
subsided,  returns  not.  He  then  sends  forth  the  animals  to  the 
four  winds  of  heaven,  builds  an  altar,  and  offers  sacrifices  with 
libations  of  wine,  at  which  the  gods  collect  like  flies  (?),  while 
the  great  goddess  Istar  lights  up  the  mighty  bow(?).1  The 
account  goes  on  to  describe  how,  when  Bel  sees  the  ship,  he  is 
filled  with  anger,  and  commands  the  gods  that  no  one  Bhall 
come  forth  alive.  Ea  expostulates  with  him  for  having  caused 
a  Deluge,  and  suggests  in  future  other  punishments,  such  as 
wild  beasts,  famine,  or  plague.  He  declares  that  he  did  not 
reveal  the  counsel  of  the  gods,  but  only  sent  a  dream  to  Atra- 
hasis. His  pleas  are  so  successful  that  Bel  takes  Sitnapisti's 
hands,  and  blesses  him  and  his  wife,  and  bids  them  be  as  gods, 
and  dwell  at  the  mouth  of  the  rivers. 

Unfortunately,  there  are  a  large  number  of 
lacunce,  and  in  many  other  passages  the  language 
is  very  obscure ;  but  the  above  may  be  taken  as 
fairly  representing  the  general  drift. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  text  as  we 
have  it  is  composite  (see  Sayce,  Higher  Crit.  and 
Mon.  ch.  iii.).  The  Deluge  is  ascribed  first  to  the 
gods  of  Surippak  collectively,  then  to  the  sun-god 
(Samas),  and,  lastly,  exclusively  to  Bel.  The  hero 
of  the  Deluge  is  twice  called  Atrahasis  instead  of 
Sitnapisti.  Moreover,  a  double  version  of  Ea's 
warning  speech  is  given,  and,  lastly,  Bel's  counsel 
to  stop  Sitnapisti,  etc.,  from  leaving  the  ship  is 
clearly  out  of  place  after  the  sacrifice  just  recorded. 
However  precarious  it  may  be,  and  indeed  unneces- 
sary, to  attempt  an  exact  analysis  of  the  whole,  it 
is  of  some  importance  to  realize  that  the  Deluge 
story  was  a  popular  one,  and  even  in  Babylon  was 
told  in  various  ways.  We  have  at  least  evidence 
of  one  story  in  which  Sitnapisti  is  presumably 
the  hero,  ending  in  the  sacrificial  thank-offering, 
and  another  in  which,  after  a  quarrel  among  the 
gods,  the  hero  Atrahasis  is  translated.  In  addition 
to  the  Akkadian  Epic  here  given,  a  few  other  frag- 
ments have  been  found  containing  more  or  less 
divergent  versions  of  the  same  story.  The  most 
important  of  these — that  discovered  by  Scheil,  al- 
ready referred  to — consists  of  37  lines.  It  repre- 
sents some  god  as  calling  upon  Ramman  to  bring  a 
flood  on  the  earth,  and  Ea  as  interposing  to  save 
Atrahasis  (see  Driver,  Genesis,  in  loco  ;  Ball,  p.  43). 

Before  passing  on  to  consider  the  Bible  Deluge, 
we  must  call  attention  to  a  few  points  in  the  Ak- 
kadian story.  (1)  The  recurrence  of  periods  of 
seven  days'  duration.  The  preparations  appear 
to  have  taken  7  days  (cf.  Gn  T  [J]),  the  ship  being 
completed  on  the  5th,  and  2  days  more  being  re- 
quired for  the  sacrifice  and  embarkation.  The 
storm  itself  lasted  7  days,  and  there  was  another 
interval  of  7  days,  while  the  Deluge  was  abating, 
before  sending  out  the  birds,  which  were  sent  out 
consecutively,  apparently  on  the  7th  day,  or,  at 
any  rate,  at  no  great  interval  (cf.  the  story  of 
Berossus,  'after  some  days'). — (2)  The  dimensions 

1  '  She  lifted  up  the  Great  Gems '  (Ball,  p.  40,  who  explains : 
'The  Babylonian  myth  evidently  regards  the  rainbow  as  the 
great  jewelled  collar  of  Ishtar,  held  up  arch-wise  in  heaven' 
[see  also  p.  201]). 


of  the  ship  are  uncertain.  There  are  lacunce  in  the 
inscription  where  the  directions  are  first  given,  but, 
at  any  rate,  the  height  and  breadth  are  the  same. 
In  describing  the  actual  building  of  the  ship,  the 
height  (and,  therefore,  the  breadth  also)  is  10  sars 
(120  cubits  [Sayce,  Hommel]),  but  the  length  is  not 
given.  It  was,  therefore,  enormously  larger  than 
the  Bible  Ark— 4  times  the  height  and  over  twice 
the  breadth  (cf.  Gn  615[P]).— (3)  Those  saved  in  the 
ship  included  Sitnapisti,  his  wife  and  slaves  (male 
and  female),  and  the  pilot  and  all  his  people  ;  but 
the  mention  of  other  relatives  is  at  least  doubtful. 
— (4)  Most  important  of  all :  Atrahasis  and  his  wife 
(but  no  others)  are  translated. 

ii.  The  Bible  Deluge  story.— 1.  Analysis.— 
The  Bible  Deluge  story,  like  the  Akkadian,  is  cer- 
tainly composite,  parts  belonging  to  the  compara- 
tively late  Priestly  Code  (P),  and  parts,  speaking 
generally,  to  the  ancient  Jahwist  source  (J). 

The  parts  usually  assigned  t©  J  *  are  :  66'8  71"5- '"" 
(in  part  [see  below]) 12- J6b-  17-f  22"23  S2i"^- 6"12- 13b-  2°-22. 

The  parts  usually  assigned  to  P  are  :  69"22  7,;-  "■ 

1S-16H.  18-21.  24    gl.  2a.  Sb-B.  13a.  14-19  01-17 

2.  The  J  Deluge  story,  —(a)  Its  date. — Though 
the  composition  of  J  as  a  whole  can  hardly  be 
earlier  than  the  9th  cent.  B.C.,  it  seems  probable 
that  the  Deluge  story  in  its  Hebrew  form,  though 
not  necessarily  reduced  to  writing,  is  far  older.  It 
preserves,  at  any  rate,  what  appears  to  be  a  very 
ancient  custom,  not  otherwise  known,  by  which 
all  clean  animals  were  regarded  as  suitable  for 
sacrifice  (Gn  82u),  whereas,  according  to  Dt  1215-  22 
1522,  there  is  clearly  a  distinction  intended  between 
certain  domestic  animals  that  were  sacrificed  and 
wild  game  {i.e.  clean  animals)  which  it  had  been 
the  custom  to  eat,  hut  which  could  not  be  sacrificed 
— a  distinction  which  is  also  implied  in  the  story  of 
the  deception  of  Isaac  (Gn  27  [JE]). 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Deluge  was  not  a  uni- 
versal tradition  among  the  Israelites,  or,  at  any  rate, 
did  not  form  part  of  a  generally  recognized  his- 
torical system.  The  tradition  concerning  Lamech's 
sons  (Gn  419"22)  implies  an  unbroken  history  of  civi- 
lization ;  and,  if  the  writer  of  this  last  section  was 
aware  of  the  Flood  tradition,  he  certainly  did  not 
regard  it  as  a  universal  Deiuge.  Many  critics, 
therefore,  regard  the  Deluge  story  as  a  compara- 
tively late  insertion  into  the  original  cycle  of  J 
traditions  (see  Oxf.  Hex.,  in  loc). 

(b)  A  relation  of  some  kind  between  J  and  the 
Akkadian  story  is  evident.  The  chief  points  of 
similarity  are  the  Divine  decision  to  bring  about  a 
Flood  (Gn  65"7)  in  consequence  of  man's  sin  (this 
is  implied  in  Ea's  expostulation  with  Bel  in  the 
Akkadian  story) ;  the  warning  by  Divine  agency 
that  the  Flood  was  coming  (I4) ;  the  command  to 
build  an  Ark,  implied  in  68  7lff- ;  the  periods  of  7 
days,  though  not  so  connectedly  as  in  the  Akkadian 
story  (V-  10  810-  12) ;  the  sending  out  af  birds  at 
intervals ;  the  sacrifice  after  the  Deluge,  and  the 
delight  shown  in  it  by  Jahweh  (8-°- 21).  On  the 
other  hand,  it  differs  in  the  monotheistic  character 
of  the  whole  story,  and  the  necessary  omission  of 
the  petty  quarrels  of  the  gods  ;  and  in  its  infinitely 
higher  religious  and  moral  tone  (the  occasion  of  the 
Flood,  Jahweh's  wrath  against  man's  sin,  receives 
an  emphasis  which  we  do  not  find  in  the  Akkadian 
story) ;  the  means  of  preservation,  an  ark  or  chest, 
instead  of  a  ship  ;  J  the  Flood's  duration  of  40  days 
instead  of  7  ;  the  birds  sent  out — raven,  dove,  dove, 
dove,  instead  of  dove,  swallow,  raven  ;  the  incident 
of  the  olive  branch  (but  cf.  Berossus) ;  and  the 
omission  of  the  apotheosis  of  Noah. 

*  For  full  analysis,  see  Oxford  Hex. ;  Kautsch  and  Socin  (quoted 

in  Usener,  pp.  17-22);  Driver,  Genesis,  1904. 

i  Some  assign  v.l"a  (afterwards  corrected  by  redactor)  to  P._ 
1  Ball  argues  from  the  dimensions  that  the  Akkadian  ship 

was  really  a  chest ;  but  it  had  oars  and  a  steersman,  and  was 
I  launched  and  navigated. 


552 


DELUGE 


(c)  At  this  point  two  important  questions  arise. 
(1)  Is  the  Bible  story  derived  from  the  Akkadian, 
oss  we  find  it  in  the  tabletsi  Probably  not.  That 
there  were  several  versions  of  the  story  current  in 
Babylon  is  clear  from  the  evidence  of  two  stories 
combined  in  the  Akkadian  tablets,  and  by  the 
evidence  of  the  other  mutilated  fragments,  as  well 
as  by  the  account  of  Berossus,  which  differs  in  some 
important  particulars.  The  olive  branch  in  the 
dove's  mouth  is  the  kind  of  picturesque  detail 
which  looks  very  ancient,  and  may  have  been  ori- 
ginal, and  is  to  some  extent  confirmed  by  Berossus 
(see  below,  V.  A.  iii.  1,  6,  c).  It  has  been  suggested 
that  the  sending  out  of  birds  may  have  originated 
in  the  well-attested  ancient  custom  of  letting  birds 
loose  to  ascertain  the  direction  of  land  ;  but,  while 
this  is  not  altogether  improbable,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  such  a  purpose  is  not  very  evident  in 
the  Akkadian  story,  and  is  quite  inadmissible  in 
that  of  the  Bible.  On  the  whole,  it  would  appear 
that  the  Bible  story  is  derived  from  one  that  did 
not  differ  essentially  from  the  Akkadian  as  we 
know  it. 

(2)  Is  the  story  of  J  a  deliberate  paraphrase  of 
whatever  form  it  was  derived  from,  or  was  it  the 
result  of  a  gradual  process  of  development  ">.  The 
subject  is  hardly  capable  of  positive  proof,  but  the 
probability  seems  in  favour  of  the  latter  alterna- 
tive, (a)  If  the  story  was,  as  seems  likely,  derived 
from  Babylonia  at  an  early  date  (note  its  anthropo- 
morphic conception  of  Jahweh,  Gn  716  821),  it  would, 
in  all  probability,  have  been  handed  on  by  oral 
tradition  many  centuries  before  it  was  written 
down,  and,  if  so,  would  naturally  have  become 
gradually  changed  in  the  telling,  as  religious  ideas 
developed  from  time  to  time.  (/S)  We  can  thus 
best  account  for  one  of  the  most  characteristic 
differences — the  chest  of  the  Bible  left  to  drift  by 
chance  or  at  the  Divine  will,  in  the  place  of  the 
purposely  navigated  boat  of  the  Akkadian  story. 
No  doubt  Lenormant  was  right  in  saying  that 
the  latter  is  a  feature  suitable  to  the  story  as  told 
by  a  maritime  people,  such  as  the  inhabitants  of 
the  Persian  Gulf,  whereas  the  Bible  Ark  points  to 
a  people  wholly  ignorant  of  navigation  (Orig.  i. 
408,  quoted  by  Andree,  p.  8) ;  but  it  seems  unlikely 
that  a  writer  in  comparatively  late  times  would 
have  deliberately  altered  the  ship  into  an  ark, 
whereas  such  a  change  might  naturally  have  come 
by  degrees.  Some  writers  have  urged  this  differ- 
ence as  a  proof  of  the  priority  of  the  Bible  narrative ; 
and  even  Cheyne,  while  very  far  from  admitting 
such  a  view,  suggested  that  possibly  this  particular 
feature  may  be  more  primitive — the  conversion  of 
the  chest  into  a  ship  being  due,  if  this  be  the  case, 
to  a  rationalizing  tendency  (art.  '  Deluge,'  in  EBrs). 
But  such  an  argument  cannot  be  considered  as  to 
any  extent  outweighing  the  strong  grounds  for  the 
priority  of  the  Akkadian  story ;  and,  after  all,  that 
the  Bible  Deluge  should  be  in  this,  as  it  is  in  other 
respects,  more  marvellous  than  an  early  form  of 
the  story,  is  what  we  might  naturally  expect  in  a 
later  stage  of  tradition. 

(o?)  Conclusion. — We  probably  have  in  the  J  story 
a  very  early  Israelitish  tradition,  either  brought 
with  the  people  from  Babylonia  at  their  first  im- 
migration, or  obtained  from  that  country  through 
the  frequent  intercourse  which  we  know  to  have 
existed  from  early  times  between  the  two  peoples, 
but  so  modified  as  to  have  become,  in  the  gradual 
course  of  transmission,  a  suitable  vehicle  for  en- 
forcing those  great  moral  and  religious  truths 
which  became  the  distinguishing  features  of  the 
Israelites. 

3.  The  P  version  of  the  Deluge. — (a)  Compared 
with  that  of  J,  P  has  in  addition  the  description 
and  the  dimensions  of  the  Ark,  the  description  of 
the  Deluge  as  due  to  the  breaking  up  of  all  the 


fountains  of  the  great  deep,  as  well  as  the  opening 
of  the  windows  of  heaven  (711  82),  the  stranding  of 
the  Ark  on  Mt.  Ararat  (84),  and  the  rainbow  (913"16), 
together  with  statistical  references  to  Noah's  age, 
etc.  P  omits  the  sending  out  of  animals  and  the 
post-diluvian  sacrifice,  substitutes  one  pair  of  all 
animals  for  7  pairs  of  clean  and  one  of  unclean, 
makes  the  Deluge  last  365  days  instead  of  61,  and 
substitutes  the  elaborate  covenant  connected  with 
the  rainbow  (91"17)  and  laws  of  blood  for  the  simple 
promise  of  J  based  on  the  sacrifice  (820"22). 

(6)  The  comparison  with  J  and  with  the  Akkadian 
Deluge  raises  a  somewhat  difficult  question.  Was 
P's  story  derived  independently  from  Babylon 
during  or  shortly  after  the  Exile,  or  was  it,  on  the 
other  hand,  merely  a  revision  of  J's  Deluge  story  ; 
or,  again,  was  it  in  some  respects  an  independent 
version  of  the  ancient  story,  belonging,  like  J's 
account,  to  ancient  religious  traditions  ? 

Those  who  adopt  either  the  first  or  third  of  these 
alternatives  lay  stress  on  the  fact  that  so  much  of 
what  is  peculiar  to  P  has  its  parallels  in  the  Ak- 
kadian story,  in  which  we  find  certain  dimensions 
of  the  ship,  its  being  tarred  with  pitch,  the  Deluge 
ascribed  apparently  to  the  sea  as  well  as  the  rain- 
storm, and  the  rainbow  (Sayce,  Ball).  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  may  be  observed  (a)  that,  as  already 
pointed  out,  the  actual  dimensions  of  the  Akkadian 
ship  are  enormously  greater  than  those  of  P's  ark, 
and,  moreover,  that  the  insertion  of  exact  dimen- 
sions is  exactly  in  accordance  with  the  custom  of 
P,  as,  e.g.,  in  the  dimensions  of  the  Tabernacle  and 
all  its  furniture ;  the  resemblance,  therefore,  on 
this  point,  such  as  it  is,  may  be  merely  accidental ; 
(/3)  that  the  reference  to  the  rainbow  in  the  Akka- 
dian story  is  at  least  doubtful,  and  is  not  admitted 
by  several  translators  (e. g.  Haupt) ;  (7)  that  almost 
all  the  differences  between  the  accounts  of  P  and 
J  may  be  explained  by  the  general  character  of  P  ; 
e.g.,  the  picturesque  story  of  the  birds  would  have 
no  interest  for  P,  who  omits  all  the  most  pictur- 
esque stories  of  Genesis.  In  any  case,  such  an 
incident  would  be  unsuitable  in  a  Deluge  which 
covered  the  highest  mountains  (719)  and  lasted  365 
days,  though  not  in  one  of  61,  in  which  the  moun- 
tains were  not  necessarily  covered  at  all.  Again, 
the  omission  of  the  sacrifice  of  Noah  accords  with 
the  omission  of  all  the  Patriarchal  sacrifices — an 
omission  which  certainly  suggests  the  inference 
either  that  P  disbelieved  in  or  held  of  no  account 
sacrifices  which  preceded  the  law  of  Sinai.  The 
omission  of  7  pairs  of  every  kind  of  clean  animal  is 
very  possibly  an  example  of  the  same  spirit,  as  these 
animals  were,  according  to  J,  intended  for  sacrifice 
(820).  Lastly,  the  omission  of  such  an  anthropo- 
morphism as  '  Jahweh  shut  him  in '  in  716b  is  quite 
in  character  with  P's  usual  practice.  (S)  As  the 
present  combined  account  of  the  Deluge  is  based 
on  P's  story,  which  appears  to  have  been  preserved 
almost  intact,  whereas  some  parts  of  J  are  obvi- 
ously omitted  (those,  for  instance,  giving  the 
warning  of  the  Deluge  and  directions  for  building 
the  Ark),  it  is  quite  possible  that  some  general 
statement  of  the  Ark's  dimensions,  a  description 
of  the  pitch,  rooms,  etc.,  like  the  Akkadian  story, 
and  the  incident  of  the  rainbow,  may  originally 
have  had  a  place  in  J's  story.  If  this  be  so,  P  must 
have  retained  the  latter,  not  because  of  its  pictur- 
esqueness,  but  as  the  basis  for  a  favourite  theme, 
a  Divine  covenant  (cf.  618) ;  on  the  other  hand,  the 
change  of  61  to  365  days,  the  number  of  days  in 
the  solar  year,  though  it  does  not  agree  with  the 
three  weeks  of  the  Akkadian  story,  appears  to  be 
based  upon  some  astronomical  theory,  and  may  be 
due  to  Babylonian  influence  of  some  kind.  It  may 
also  be  reasonably  urged  that  the  reference  to  '  the 
fountains  of  the  great  deep '  really  corresponds  with 
P's  ideas  and  nomenclature. (cf.  Gn  l2),  and  finds  a 


DELUGE 


653 


parallel  in  the  post-exilic  Is  2418.  It  is  not  likely, 
therefore,  that  it  was  originally  derived  from  J. 

It  may,  then,  be  considered  not  improbable  that, 
in  addition  to  J,  P  may  have  had  access  to  some 
other  version  of  the  Akkadian  story,  but,  if  so, 
when  and  how  it  was  derived  is  quite  uncertain. 

iii.  The  Deluge  according  to  later  Baby- 
lonian ACCOUNTS.— 1.  The  story  as  given  by 
Berossus. — Berossus  was  a  priest  of  Bel  in  Babylon 
about  300  B.C.,  who  wrote  a  history  of  Babylonia 
(see  art.  BEROSUS).  He  claims  to  have  copied  out 
MSS  of  several  authors  which  had  been  carefully 
preserved  in  Babylon  for  15  myriads  of  years. 
Unfortunately,  only  a  few  fragments  of  his  work 
have  been  preserved,  which  were  copied  by  later 
authors.  His  Deluge  story  is  given  or  referred  to 
in  three  sources. 

(a)  It  was  copied  by  Alexander  Polyhistor  (a 
Milesian  writer  of  the  1st  cent.  B.C.),  whose  work 
is  also  lost.  Thence  it  was  copied  by  Eusebius 
in  his  Chronicon ;  and,  though  the  original  of 
the  Chronicon  is  also  lost,  it  still  exists  in  an 
Armenian  to.,  and  it  was  also  reproduced,  probably 
verbatim,  by  Syncellus  in  his  Chronographia. 

(b)  A  Latin  translation,  based  partly  on  the 
Armenian  version,  with  the  various  readings  of 
the  Greek  text  of  Syncellus,  is  given  in  Migne, 
Chron.  Eus.  I.  ch.  iii.  (see  also  Miiller,  FHG  ii. 
501).     It  runs  as  follows  : 

1  After  the  death  of  Ardates,  hia  son  Xisuthros  reigned  18 
gars  (18x3600  years).  During  his  reign  occurred  a  great  flood, 
of  which  the  following  account  has  been  given.  Kronos  ap- 
peared to  him  in  a  dream  and  revealed  to  him  that  on  the  15th 
of  the  month  Daisios  men  would  be  destroyed  by  a  flood,  and 
he  therefore  ordered  him  to  bury  all  existing  MSS,  beginning, 
middle,  and  end,  in  the  sun-city  of  Sippara,  to  build  a  boat,  to 
embark  with  his  relatives  and  friends,  to  lade  it  with  food  and 
drink,  to  put  therein  animals,  birds,  and  quadrupeds,  and  to 
make  all  ready  for  a  journey.  He  then  asked  whither  the 
boat  should  go,  and  was  told,  "  To  the  gods  to  pray[y.£.  having 
prayed]  for  good  to  mankind."  He  was  not  disobedient,  but 
built  a  boat  of  5  stadia  long  and  2  stadia  broad,  and  carried  out 
all  that  had  been  commanded  him,  and  embarked  with  wife, 
children,  and  relatives.  When  the  flood  came,  and  very  soon 
had  begun  to  subside,  he  let  go  some  of  his  birds  ;  but,  when 
they  found  neither  food  nor  place  to  settle,  they  came  back  to 
the  ship.  Xisuthros,  after  some  days,  let  the  birds  go  away 
again,  and  they  returned  to  the  ship  with  mud  upon  their  feet. 
When  they  were  let  go  for  the  third  time,  they  returned  no 
more  to  the  ship.  Then  Xisuthros  perceived  that  the  land  had 
appeared,  and  he  broke  open  some  of  the  joints  of  the  ship, 
and  ascertained  that  the  ship  had  grounded  on  a  certain  moun- 
tain. He  stepped  out  with  his  wife  and  daughter  and  the 
pilot,  kissed  the  ground,  erected  an  altar,  offered  sacrifice  to 
the  gods,  and  vanished  together  with  those  who  had  come  out 
of  the  ship.'  The  narrative  goes  on  to  relate  how  a  voice  from 
the  sky_  informed  the  comrades  of  Xisuthros  that  he  and  those 
with  him  had  gone,  on  account  of  his  piety,  to  dwell  with  the 
gods,  and  bade  them  recover  the  MSS,  and  adds  in  conclusion  : 
'  Of  this  ship  that  Btranded  in  Armenia  a  part  still  remained  in 
the  Kordyaean  mountains  of  Armenia,  and  some  people  scraped 
off  the  pitch  from  the  ship  and  used  it  as  amulets.  They  came 
to  Babylon,  dug  up  the  MSS.  and  took  them  from  Sippara  ;  and 
they  rebuilt  Babylon,  building  many  cities  and  re-founding 
temples.' 

(c)  This  story  appears  to  be  an  epitome  of  the 
Akkadian  or  one  much  like  it : 

(o)  The  name  of  Xisuthros  (  =  Hasis-atra  transposed  from 
Atra-hasis)  agrees  with  that  of  one  of  the  versions  of  the 
Akkadian  story.  (/3)  The  means  of  refuge,  as  in  the  Akkadian 
story,  is  a  ship  and  not  an  ark.  (-y)  As  in  the  Akkadian, 
Xisuthros  and  others  are  immortalized.  It  differs,  however, 
in  (a)  the  prediction  of  the  exact  date  of  the  Deluge,  (/3)  the 
specific  mention  of  relatives  and  friends  as  saved  (a  smaller 
number  seems  implied  than  in  the  Akkadian  story  j,  (y)  the  mud 
on  the  feet  of  the  birds,  (S)the  stranding  of  the  ship  in  Armenia, 
and  (e)  the  apotheosis  not  only  of  Xisuthros  and  his  wife,  but 
also  of  his  daughters  and  even  of  the  pilot.  Of  these  (y)  and  (5) 
are  of  special  importance.  The  latter  would  seem  to  prove  an 
ancient  Babylonian  tradition  independent  of  the  Akkadian 
story,  and  followed  by  P,  Ararat  being  the  regular  name  of 
Armenia  in  Assyrian  monuments.  Of  the  former  it  may  be 
said  at  least  that  the  story  of  the  clay  on  the  feet  of  the  birds 
looks  like  the  earlier  analogue  of  the  olive  branch. 

It  should  be  added  that  the  points  of  contact 
with  the  Bible  story  are  not  sufficiently  striking 
to  make  it  likely  that  the  later  Babylonian  tradi- 
tions were  influenced  by  it.  On  the  whole,  then, 
the  story  of  Berossus  tends  to  confirm  the  view  of 


some  variety  in  the  Babylonian  traditions  of  the 
Deluge. 

2.  The  Deluge  story  of  Abydenus. — An  epitom- 
ized version  of  the  same  account,  derived  origin- 
ally either  from  Berossus  or  from  the  source  from 
which  he  derived  it,  comes  to  us  through  Aby- 
denus, a  later  Babylonian  historian,  whose  work, 
like  that  of  Berossus,  has  also  been  copied  both  in 
the  Chronicon  of  Eusebius  (I.  vii.,  also  in  Prcep. 
Evang.  ix.  12,  p.  414)  and  in  the  Chronographia  of 
Syncellus  (p.  70). 

It  differs,  however,  (a)  in  making  a  double  interval  of  three 
days  before  and  between  the  sending  of  the  birds,  and  (0)  in 
the  birds  being  sent  only  twice.  Migne's  attempt  to  get  out  of 
the  text  of  Syncellus  a  third  Bending  is  hardly  successful.  At 
best  it  would  require  that  it  took  place  after  they  had  returned 
with  the  clay. 

3.  Reference  to  Berossus's  Deluge  story  in  Jo- 
sephus. — Josephus's  account  of  the  Deluge  {Ant. 
I.  iii.  5,  6)  differs  slightly  from  that  of  the  Bible. 
He  mentions  that  Noah,  when  the  Ark  rested  on 
the  top  of  a  certain  mountain  of  Armenia,  opened 
it  and  saw  a  small  piece  of  land.  The  dove  was 
sent  out  7  days  after  the  raven,  and  only  once 
returned,  covered  with  mud  and  bringing  an  olive- 
branch.  After  waiting  7  days  more,  he  sent  forth 
the  living  creatures.  These  differences  may  be 
partly  due  to  carelessness  and  to  narration  from 
memory,  but  the  reference  to  the  clay,  at  any 
rate,  is  taken  from  the  account  of  Berossus,  which 
he  had  seen,  and  probably  other  accounts  also,  for 
he  goes  on  to  say  :  '  All  writers  of  barbarian  his- 
tories make  mention  of  this  Flood  and  this  Ark, 
among  whom  is  Berossus  the  Chaldaean,'  and  he 
quotes  from  him  the  statement  about  the  remains 
of  the  ship  on  the  Kordysean  mountains,  and  the 
use  made  of  the  pitch,  in  the  same  words  as  those 
used  by  Eusebius  and  Syncellus,  who  themselves 
refer  to  Polyhistor  as  their  authority.  This  proves 
beyond  a  doubt  that  Polyhistor's  story  was  de- 
rived from  Berossus.  Josephus's  statement  about 
the  universality  of  the  Deluge  story  may  be  taken 
as  showing  at  least  that  the  Deluge  story  was  a 
common  theme  among  ancient  historians. 

iv.  Origin  of  the  Semitic  Deluge  story.— 
(a)  There  is  nothing  to  suggest  in  this  case  that  it 
formed  part  of  a  consistent  mythological  system. 
(6)  Being  concerned  with  ram  and  water,  the 
subject  was  clearly  suitable  for  treatment  in  the 
Akkadian  Epic  in  connexion  with  the  rainy  month  ; 
nor  need  we  suppose  it,  therefore,  connected  with 
any  special  astronomical  theories,  (c)  Its  more  or 
less  mythological  form,  in  which  gods  and  god- 
desses play  their  part,  finds  its  analogies  in  many 
Deluge  and  other  stories  throughout  the  world, 
in  which  natural  events  form  the  basis  of,  or 
become  mixed  up  with,  mythological  details  (see 
above,  IV.  C.  (6)).  (rf)  The  frequency  of  Deluge 
stories  arising  out  of  natural  inundations  gives  a 
prima  facie  probability  that  such  an  event  was 
the  origin  of  the  tradition  in  this  instance,  (e)  In 
both  the  Bible  story  and  the  Akkadian  the  Deluge 
is  ascribed  to  natural  causes :  (1)  an  excessive 
rainfall  ;  (2)  somewhat  more  indefinitely,  the 
rising  of  the  sea.  The  first  is  obvious  in  both 
accounts.  The  second  is  definitely  stated  in  P  in 
the  words  '  all  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  were 
broken  up'  (Gn  7").  The  deep  being  regarded  as 
being  under  the  earth,  such  language  would  very 
naturally  suggest  an  earthquake  breaking  up  the 
ground  and  letting  the  deep  burst  forth.  It  seems 
implied  also  in  the  Akkadian  story,  which,  if  it 
does  not,  as  some  scholars  maintain,  expressly 
speak  of  the  earth  trembling,  and  the  floods 
breaking  out  below  the  earth,  at  least  describes 
such  a  terrific  storm  and  tempest  and  invasion  of 
waters  as  to  imply  a  cyclonic  wave  rather  than  a 
mere  overflooding  of  rivers.  (/)  The  traditional 
resting-places  of  the  ark,  Ararat  =  Armenia  (Bible 


554 


DELUGE 


and  Berossus),  and  Nizir=Rowandiz  in  the  North- 
East  of  Babylonia  (Akkadian),  point  to  a  definite 
region  of  the  world,    (g)  Suss  has  pointed  out  with 

freat  force  that  the  necessary  conditions  are  ful- 
Ued  by  supposing  that  the  shores  of  the  Persian 
Gulf  were  struck  by  an  enormous  volcanic  wave, 
accompanied  by  a  tremendous  cyclone.  The  very 
great  distance  which  such  waves  travel,  and  the 
fearful  destruction  of  life  and  property  which  is 
often  involved,  have  frequently  been  pointed  out. 

Thus  the  wave  associated  with  the  Backergunge  cyclone  in  the 
delta  of  the  Ganges  reached  a  height  of  45  ft.  and  destroyed 
more  than  100,000  persons  (EBr$  xvi.  155).  A  wave  caused  by 
the  eruption  of  Krakatoa  (26tb-28th  Aug.  1883)  reached  50  ft. 
(cf.  the  16  cubits  of  P,  Gn  720)  and  destroyed  more  than  36,000 
liveB.  One  wave  reached  as  far  as  Cape  Horn,  7818  geographical 
miles  distant  (EBr$  xxviii.  639). 

It  can  hardly  be  deemed  improbable  that  a 
phenomenon  of  such  a  kind  occurred  on  the  coast 
of  the  Persian  Gulf,  then  probably  lying  much 
further  north  than  now,  and  that  but  few  sur- 
vivors escaped  in  boats  to  the  more  hilly  regions, 
with  what  effects  they  could  secure.  We  have,  in 
an  event  like  this,  all  that  is  needed  for  the  growth 
of  such  stories  as  are  preserved  in  the  Akkadian 
Epic  and  the  Bible  Deluge. 

It  need  hardly  be  added  that  the  religious  value 
of  the  Bible  story  does  not  lie  in  its  improba- 
bilities, which  sometimes  amount,  as  has  been 
shown,  to  absurdities,  but  rather  in  the  religious 
and  moral  lessons,  of  which  the  ancient  tradition 
was  made  the  vehicle,  viz.  that  Jahweh  hated  and 
would  punish  sin,  but  would  save  those  who  were 
faithful  and  obedient,  while  the  further  thought  is 
suggested  in  P,  at  least,  that  His  mercy  is  a  more 
abiding  motive  than  His  wrath. 

B.  Tbe  Greek  Deluge  stories.— \.  Story  of 
Deukalion  and  Pyrrha. — This  is  by  far  the  most 
important  of  the  Greek  Deluge,  or  Flood,  stories, 
(a)  Its  most  typical  form  is  that  given  by  Apol- 
lodorus (140  B.C.)  in  his  Bibliotheca,  I.  vii.  2  : 

When  Zeus  determined  to  destroy  the  men  of  the  age  of 
copper,  Deukalion,  at  the  suggestion  of  Prometheus  his  father, 
constructed  a  chest  (Adpeaica),  into  which,  having  placed 
therein  the  necessaries  of  life,  he  entered  with  his  wife 
Pyrrha.  Zeus  sent  a  great  rain,  which  flooded  most  parts  of 
Greece,  and  destroyed  all  except  those  who  escaped  to  the 
neighbouring  hill-tops.  The  pair,  after  drifting  in  the  chest 
for  9  days  and  nights,  reached  Parnassus,  and,  the  Flood 
having  somewhat  abated,  disembarked,  whereupon  Deukalion 
sacrificed  to  Zeus  his  protector.  The  latter  sent  Hermes  to 
ask  what  he  wished.  He  replied  *  Children.'  At  the  direc- 
tion of  Zeus  they  threw  stones  over  their  heads,  and  those 
which  Deukalion  threw  became  men,  and  those  which  Pyrrha 
threw,  women.  Then  follows  a  derivation  of  the  word  Aaos 
('  people  ')  from  Aaas  or  Aa?  ('  stone '). 

(b)  This  story  evidently  originated  in  a  con- 
fusion of  a  myth  with  what  may  have  been  an 
ancient  tradition.  If  Pandora,  as  Apollodorus  had 
just  asserted,  was  the  first  woman,  and  Prome- 
theus first  made  men  of  earth  and  water,  how 
could  Deukalion  be,  as  Apollodorus  likewise  states, 
king  of  Phthia,  and  who  were  the  men  who  were 
nearly  all  destroyed  ?  How,  again,  is  the  survival 
of  any  consistent  with  the  story  of  the  stones  ? 

(c)  (1)  There  seems  to  be  an  allusion  to  the 
story  of  the  stones  in  Hesiod  ('Ho?ai,  fr.  141,  ed. 
Rzach ;  see  Usener,  p.  32).  (2)  The  earliest  com- 
plete reference,  however,  to  Deukalion's  Flood  is 
in  Pindar,  01.  ix.  64-67,  where  he  mentions  how 
Pyrrha  and  Deukalion  descended  from  Parnassus 
and  founded  of  stones  a  race  like  themselves,  and 
how  the  mighty  waters  which  had  overflooded  the 
earth  had  been  suddenly  stopped  by  Zeus.  Pindar 
evidently  refers  to  it  as  a  well-known  story ;  other- 
wise, much  of  what  he  says  would  have  been  quite 
unintelligible  to  his  readers.  (3)  The  best-known 
form  of  the  story,  hoWever,  is  that  given  by  Ovid, 
Met.  i.  155-415,  the  most  curious  feature  of  which 
is  the  fact  that  no  mention  is  made  of  Deukalion 
and  PyTrha  having  been  warned  of  the  Deluge  and 
commanded  to  build  a  ship.  They  appeared  on  the 
heights  of  Parnassus,  where  they  had  landed,  and 


invoked  the  gods  of  the  mountain  and  Themis. 
Zeus,  seeing  this,  and  satisfied  that  they  were 
good  and  pious  people,  stopped  the  Deluge.  A 
full  description  is  given  of  their  trouble,  and  the 
story  about  '  the  bones  of  the  great  mother '  is 
given  in  detail.  It  should  be  noticed  that  here 
the  means  of  refuge  is  a  ship,  not,  as  with  Apol- 
lodorus, a  chest.  There  are  also  several  other 
more  or  less  different  versions  of  the  Deukalion 
story.  (4)  According  to  Nonnus  (see  Usener,  p. 
38),  a  conflagration  sent  by  Zeus  (in  anger  at  the 
Titans  for  murdering  Dionysus  Zagreus)  was  put 
out  by  a  Deluge.  This  is  very  abruptly  connected 
with  the  story  of  Deukalion  and  Pyrrha,  who  sud- 
denly appear  floating  about  in  a  chest  (Xdpal) ;  but 
we  are  not  told  how  or  where  they  got  in,  or 
where  they  landed.  The  Deluge  ends  by  Poseidon 
splitting  the  rock  with  his  trident,  and  making  an 
escape  for  the  water  through  the  Vale  of  Tempe, 
thus  connecting  the  Deluge  with  the  north  of 
Thessaly,  whereas  the  older  legends  connect  it 
with  Photis  in  the  south-east.  (5)  According  to 
Hellanikos,  Mt.  Othrys  was  the  place  of  landing. 
Aristotle,  curiously  enough,  maintained  that  the 
waters  of  the  Deluge  flowed  into  Achelous.  Others, 
such  as  Thrasybulus  and  Akestodorus,  maintained 
that  Deukalion  and  Pyrrha  founded  the  sanctuary 
of  Zeus  at  Dodona,  and  dwelt  in  the  territory  of 
the  Molossi.  Possibly  here  we  have  a  local  Flood 
tradition  combined  with  the  better  known  tra- 
ditional story.  Very  late  legends  connect  the 
landing  of  Deukalion  with  Mt.  Athos,  and  even 
with  ./Etna. 

ii.  Other  Deluge  stories  current  in  Greece. — 1. 
According  to  a  legend  connected  with  Megaris, 
Megaros,  its  founder,  was  rescued  from  the  Deluge, 
being  guided  in  swimming  through  the  water  by 
the  cry  of  cranes  ;  hence  was  derived  the  name  of 
Gerania. 

2.  The  Oxygian  Flood  story,  found  only  in  quite 
late  writers,  such  as  Julius  Africanus,  is  con- 
fined to  Boeotia  and  Attica.  Oxygos,  its  hero, 
was  described  as  king,  sometimes  of  Athens  and 
sometimes  of  Thebes. 

3.  Dardanus  was  said  to  have  escaped  in  a  Flood 
from  Samothrace  or  Arcadia  (Dionysius  of  Hali- 
carnassus),  in  a  boat  of  skins  made  by  himself 
(Lykophron),  or  with  his  sons,  and  to  have  founded 
the  kingdom  of  Ida.  This  story  was  often  brought 
into  connexion  with  that  of  Deukalion. 

4.  An  altogether  different  Flood  story  is  referred 
to  by  Istros  (see  Usener,  p.  46),  who  connects  a 
great  flood  with  the  severing  of  Asia  and  Europe 
by  the  Hellespont. 

iii.  Origin  of  the  Greek  stories. — Speaking  gene- 
rally, the  Greek  Deluge  stories  form  good  illus- 
trations of  what  appear  to  be  the  common  causes 
of  such  legends  (see  above,  IV.  C).  Several  of 
them  grew  up  as  explanations  of  the  founding  of 
a  city  or  temple,  ascribed  to  a  waif  miraculously 
guided  across  the  waters,  and  to  this  extent  Usener 
is  probably  right  in  finding  analogies  to  the  Deu- 
kalion myth  in  such  stories  as  those  of  Perseus 
and  Oedipus.  Other  Greek  Deluge  stories  are  con- 
nected with  special  geographical  features,  such  as 
the  opening  of  the  Vale  of  Tempe  All  are  local 
in  character,  and  that  one  of  them,  from  its  anti- 
quity and  picturesqueness,  should  have  found  a 
permanent  place,  though  often  mixed  with  others, 
in  Greek  mythology  is  natural  enough.  And  there 
is  no  reason  why  it  too  may  not  have  originated 
from  a  local  inundation,  the  story  receiving  such 
accretions  of  the  picturesque  and  marvellous  as  are 
common  in  similar  cases. 

The  occurrence  of  the  chest  instead  of  a  boat  is  interesting 
in  view  of  the  same  variation  in  the  Semitic  story,  and  might 
suggest  the  possibility  that  the  Greek  legend,  as  we  find  it  in 
Apollodorus,  was  influenced  in  some  indirect  way  by  the  Bible 
narrative.     But  there  is  a  prreat  difference  between  a  chest, 


DELUGE 


666 


holding;  only  a  couple  of  persons  and  such  food  as  they  required 
for  9  days,  and  the  monster  Bible  '  Ark '  with  all  its  arrange- 
ments and  contents.  Moreover,  the  chest  was  not  an  uncommon 
feature  in  the  waif  stories  of  Greek  legend. 

iv.  The  mixed  Deluge  ston/  of  the  pseudo-Lucian. 
— We  have  a  real  mixture  or  the  Greek  and  Semitic 
Deluge  stories  in  the  story  given  in  the  de  Dea 
Syria  (Lucian,  ed.  Jacobitz,  Leipzig,  1881,  iii. 
344  f. ).  This  version  was  connected  with  a  hole 
in  the  ground  over  which  the  temple  was  built  and 
into  which  the  Deluge  was  said  to  have  subsided. 

According  to  this  account,  Deukalion,  and  his  wife  and 
children,  were  saved  in  a  great  chest  (KapvoJ;).  As  he  entered 
it,  there  came  all  kinds  of  animals,  wild  and  tame,  sows,  horses, 
serpents,  lions,  etc.,  in  pairs.  He  received  them  all,  and  there 
was  great  friendship  between  them,  and  they  all  sailed  in  one 
chest  as  long  as  the  water  prevailed.  When  the  water  had 
disappeared  through  the  hole,  Deukalion  built  an  altar  and  the 
temple  over  it. 

Usener  certainly  goes  too  far  in  saying  that  this 
is  the  Babylonian  Deluge  story  with  only  the  name 
Deukalion  inserted  from  Greek  legend.  It  con- 
tains several  features  from  both,  and,  except  that 
to  Deukalion  it  gives  a  second  name  'ZxiBea  (which, 
according  to  Buttman,  is  a  corruption  of  2i<n50ea, 
and  is  intended  for  Sisuthros,  the  Noah  of  Berossus), 
it  bears  a  far  closer  resemblance  to  the  Biblical 
than  to  the  other  forms  of  the  Babylonian  Deluge 
legend.  E.g.,  wild  animals  are  preserved  as  well 
as  tame  ;  all  in  pairs ;  only  Deukalion  and  his 
family  escape  ;  in  a  chest,  not  a  boat  (the  last  per- 
haps from  the  Greek  story).  That  traditions  of 
the  Deluge  ultimately  derived  from  the  Bible 
should  have  been  current  in  Syria  is  likely  enough, 
and  there  seems  also  evidence,  in  another  tradi- 
tion that  the  people  was  founded  by  Semiramis,  of 
early  intercourse  with  Babylon. 

C.  Persian  Deluge  stories.— i.  A  curious 
legend  is  contained  in  two  fragments  of  the  Yima 
songs  preserved  in  Vendidad  (SBE  iv.  10  if.).  It 
is  given  in  full  by  Usener,  pp.  208-212,  from  the 
iritical  tr.  of  Geldner.1 

K  council  was  held  by  the  gods,  in  which  Ahura  Mazda  decreed 
that  a  terribly  severe  winter  would  be  followed  by  a  great 
r&luge  from  the  melting  of  the  snow.  Yima  was  directed  to 
build  an  enormous  fort  foursquare,  and  to  stock  it  with  men 
and  animals  of  all  kinds.  Yima  carried  out  these  instructions, 
but  it  is  not  actually  said  that  the  Deluge  came. 

Usener  regards  the  whole  story  as  an  ideal  pic- 
ture of  the  future,  the  eternal  city  where  men  are 
to  live  in  harmony  and  righteousness  a  life  free 
from  moral  and  physical  evil,  when  the  world  is 
destroyed  by  the  Deluge  ;  but  the  passages  which 
seem  most  ideal  are  among  the  prose  portions, 
which  Geldner  regards  as  later  insertions.  It 
seems  more  probable  that  we  have  here  also  an 
example  of  the  tendency  to  idealize  what  was 
originally  a  natural  event. 

ii.  A  second  story  is  found  in  BundahiSn,  vii.  (tr. 
by  E.  W.  West  in  SBE  v.  25-28).  Tistar,  in  the 
three  forms  of  a  man,  a  horse,  and  a  bull,  sends 
successive  Deluges  each  of  ten  days'  duration,  and 
destroys  all  the  noxious  creatures  on  the  earth. 
This  is  part  of  what  is  clearly  an  astrological 
myth  describing  the  contest  between  good  and 
evil,  and  accounting  for  lightning  and  thunder, 
the  salt  sea,  and  the  origin  of  lakes  and  seas. 

D.  Indian  Deluge  stories.— i.  The  Fish 
Legend.— {I)  The  oldest  form  of  this  typical 
Deluge  story  of  India  is  preserved  in  the  Sata- 
patha Brahmana,  i.  8.  1  {SBE  xii.  216,  tr.  by  J. 
Eggeling ;  for  other  translations  see  A.  Weber, 
Ind.  Streif.,  1868,  i.  9,  Ind.  Stud.,  1868,  i.  161 ;  Max 
Muller,  Hist.  Skr.  Lit.,  1859,  p.  425;  J.  Muir, 
Orig.  Skr.  Texts,  i.2  [1873]  181  if.) : 

In  the  morning,  Manu,  when  water  was  brought  to  him  for 
washing,  found  a  fish  in  his  hands.  The  fish  foretold  the 
coming  Deluge,  and  promised  to  save  him  if  he  would  pre- 
serve it,  first  in  a  jar,  then  in  a  pit,  and,  when  it  had 
outgrown  this,  would  take  it  to  the  sea.  Manu  was  to  build 
a  ship,  and  enter  it,  and  look  out  for  his  preserver.    Manu  did 


1  For  a  divergent  interpretation  of  this  Iranian  material,  see 
art.  Blest,  abode  of  the  (Persian). 


as  directed,  and  finally  took  the  fish,  which  had  then  grown  to 
an  enormous  size,  to  the  sea.  Then  Manu  entered  the  ship, 
and  the  Deluge  came,  which  destroyed  all  living  creatures. 
Meanwhile  the  fish  approarhed  Manu,  who  fastened  the  ship  to 
its  horn,  and  was  so  conveyed  up  to  [or  'obit'j  the  Northern 
Mountains.  Manu  was  directed  to  tie  the  ship  to  a  tree,  and 
gradually  to  descend  as  the  waters  abate. 

The  rest  of  the  story  is  concerned  with  a  complicated  and 
very  unintelligible  rite  with  clarified  butter,  by  which  a  woman 
was  first  produced,  and,  by  her  means,  offspring  of  men  and 
cattle. 

According  to  Weber,  the  final  redaction  of  the 
Satapatha  is  only  a  little  before  the  Christian  era ; 
but,  as  Eggeling  shows,  it  is  a  compilation  of 
earlier  treatises,  and  this  particular  story  gives 
the  impression,  in  its  main  features,  of  being 
ancient. 

One  special  interest  in  the  story  lies  in  its 
curious  points  of  resemblance  and  contrast  to 
other  Deluge  stories.  The  warning  of  the  Deluge 
by  an  animal,  the  fastening  of  the  ship  by  a  rope, 
the  post-diluvian  sacrifice,  and  the  miraculous  re- 
production of  men,  have  all  their  analogies ;  but 
they  are  not  found,  as  here,  in  combination,  and 
the  towing  of  the  ship  by  a  fish  is  quite  unique. 
The  probability  is,  therefore,  that  this  legend  is  of 
native  growth. 

Weber  and,  to  a  less  extent,  Muir  see  in  the 
story  a  tradition  of  an  original  immigration  of  the 
race  from  across  the  Himalayas.  They  base  their 
opinion  on  a  rendering  of  the  words  given  above  in 
italics,  'over  the  Northern  Mountains.'  Eggeling, 
however,  renders  '  up  to,'  and  some  writers  suppose 
the  story  to  have  originated  in  an  exceptional  over- 
flowing of  the  Ganges.  The  question  is  primarily 
one  of  textual  criticism,  the  choice  lying  between 
the  reading  abhi-dudrava  (Eggeling)  and  ati- 
dudrava  (Weber,  etc.).  The  chief  argument 
against  an  originally  mythical  origin  of  the  story 
is  that  here  also  the  tendency  is  to  become  more 
and  more  mythical,  and  if  we  reverse  this  tendency 
we  can  easily  explain  the  story  as  having  grown 
out  of  a  natural  inundation. 

(2)  A  second  version  of  the  Indian  story  is  that 
given  in  the  Mahabharata  (quoted  from  tr.  by  H. 
Jacobi  in  Usener,  p.  29  ;  see  also  Muir,  op.  cit. 
i.2  196  ft.).  The  story  has  here  assumed  a  more 
elaborate  and  marvellous  form. 

Manu  is  a  prince  among  monks,  renowned  for  his  asceticism 
'Standing  on  one  leg  with  his  arms  raised  on  high,  and  with 
head  bent  down  and  never  blinking  an  eye,  he  practised  terrible 
austerities,'  etc.  The  fish  appeared  to  him  as  he  was  practising 
austerities  by  the  shore.  Of  such  virtue  were  they  that  the 
fish  became  many  miles  long,  and  yet  Manu  could  carry  it 
quite  easily.  The  storm  is  very  graphically  described.  In  the 
end  the  fish  reveals  himself  as  Brahma,  and  appoints  Manu  as 
creator  of  all  things. 

In  this  version  there  appears  to  be  a  confusion, 
not  uncommon  in  similar  myths,  in  the  character 
of  Manu  as  himself  a  descendant  of  former  an- 
cestors, and  as  the  founder  and  creator  of  men 
and  all  things.  In  the  older  form  of  the  story  he 
is  the  first  man,  and  never  more  than  a  man. 

(3)  A  third  version  is  found  in  the  Bhagavata 
Purana,  viii.  24.  7  ff.  (for  Eng.  tr.  see  Hardwick, 
Christ  and  other  Masters,  new  ed. ,  Lond.  1863,  vol.  i. 
pt.  ii.  ch.  iii.  pp.  312-315  ;  Muir,  op.  cit.  i.2  208 ff.). 
According  to  Cheyne,  this  book  cannot  be  earlier 
than  the  12th  cent.  A.D.  The  story  itself  is 
mainly  a  development  of  that  of  the  Satapatha 
Brahmana,  with  a  mixture  of  the  mythical  and 
^Mem-philosophical  elements  characteristic  of  the 
Puranas. 

The  Deluge  took  place  during  a  sleep  of  Brahma,  when  the 
strong  demon  Hayagriva  stole  the  Vedas.  Hari  took  the  form 
of  a  minute  fish,  and  so  finally  revealed  himself  to  Satyavrata, 
a  devout  king  who  lived  only  on  water.  The  gradual  growth 
of  the  fish  is  like  that  in  the  earlier  legends,  except  that  he 
outdid  them  by  becoming,  in  his  final  form,  a  million  of 
leagues  long.  The  ark  in  this  case  was  miraculously  brought  to 
Satyavrata,  who,  accompanied  by  the  chiefs  of  the  Brahmans, 
spent  his  time  therein  in  singing  hymns  of  praise  and  receiving 
Divine  revelations.  Finally,  Hari  slew  Hayagriva  and  recovered 
the  Vedas.  Satyavrata,  instructed  in  all  Divine  and  human 
knowledge,  was  appointed  the  7th  Manu.    But,  after  all,  the 


656 


DBLUGE3 


appearance  of  the  horned  fish  was  maya,  or  delusion,  and  '  he 
who  shall  devoutly  hear  this  important  allegorical  narrative  will 
be  delivered  from  the  bondage  of  sin.' 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  this  version  has 
several  points  of  contact  with  the  Bihle  story.  (1) 
The  Deluge  is  caused  by  rain  as  well  as  by  the 
sea.  (2)  Seven  days'  warning  is  given  of  the 
Deluge.  (3)  It  is  sent  because  of  the  depravity  of 
man.  (4)  Animals  are  preserved  in  tho  ark,  (5) 
and  these  in  pairs.  Of  these  (3)  is  inconsistent 
with  the  beginning  of  the  story,  and  is  evidently 
an  interpolation.  The  most  probable  explanation 
of  them  all  is  that  they  were  due  to  Christian 
influence.  Their  appearance  only  in  the  latest 
version  of  the  myth  makes  it  impossible  to  use 
them  as  arguments  to  prove  that  the  story  itself 
is  derived  from  the  Bihle  story,  or  originated  in  the 
event  which  that  story  describes. 

ii.  The  Boar  Legend. — Another  Deluge  myth  is 
given  in  Muir,  op.  cit.  i.2  50  f.  It  is  one  of  the 
creation  stories  of  the  Visnu  Purana. 

It  tells  how  the  Divine  Brahma,  awaking  from  his  night 
slumber,  and  perceiving  that  the  earth  lay  within  the  waters 
of  the  universal  ocean,  assumed  the  form  of  a  boar,  plunged 
into  the  ocean,  and  raised  up  the  earth  and  placed  it  on  the 
surface. 

This  is  a  creation  myth,  and  has  a  curious 
analogy  with  some  of  the  American  Indian  stories 
(see  IV.  0  (a)). 

E.  Chinese  Flood  story.— Accounts  of  this 
are  found  in  the  Shu  King  (especially  ii.  4.  1  ;  cf. 
also  pref.  5,  ii.  1.  17,  2.  1,  14,  iii.  1.  1,  v.  27.  8), 
the  Shih  King  (iv.  3.  4.  1),  and  the  writings  of 
Meng-tsze  (iii!  1.  4.  7,  2.  9.  3  f.). 

i.  According  to  the  Canon  of  Ydo  {Shu  King,  i. 
3.  11,  tr.  Legge,  SEE  iii.  34 f.), 

1  the  Ti  said,  "  Ho  t  (President  of)  the  Four  Mountains,  de- 
structive in  their  overflow  are  the  waters  of  the  inundation. 
In  their  vast  extent  they  embrace  the  hills  and  overtop  the 
great  heights,  threatening  the  heavens  with  their  floods,  so 
that  the  lower  people  groan  and  murmur  1  Is  there  a  capable 
man  to  whom  I  can  assign  the  correction  (of  this  calamity)  ?  " ' 
Khwan  was  appointed,  and  laboured  unsuccessfully  for  nine 
years.  The  Ti  afterwards  resigned  his  throne  to  Yu,  who  had 
coped  successfully  with  the  inundation. 

ii.  The  Shu  King  (ii.  4.  1)  gives  the  account  of 
Yii's  work  as  follows  (in  Legge's  translation) : 

'  The  inundating  waters  seemed  to  assaihthe  heavens,  and  in 
their  vast  extent  embraced  the  mountains  and  overtopped  the 
hills,  so  that  people  were  bewildered  and  overwhelmed.  I  [Yu] 
mounted  my  four  conveyances  [carts,  boats,  sledges,  and  spiked 
shoes]  and  all  along  the  hills  hewed  down  the  woods,  at  the 
same  time,  along  with  Yi,  showing  the  multitudes  how  to  get 
flesh  to  eat.  I  opened  passages  for  the  streams  throughout  the 
nine  provinces,  and  conducted  them  to  the  sea.  I  deepened 
the  channels  and  canals,  and  conducted  them  to  the  streams, 
at  the  same  time,  along  with  Chi,  sowing  grain,  and  showing 
the  multitude  how  to  procure  the  food  of  toil  in  addition  to 
flesh  meat.  I  urged  them  further  to  exchange  what  they  had 
for  what  they  had  not,  and  to  dispose  of  their  accumulated 
stores.  In  this  way  all  the  people  got  grain  to  eat,  and  all  the 
States  began  to  come  under  good  rule.' 

Elsewhere  in  the  Shu  King,  Yu  is  repeatedly 
described  as  having  determined  the  relations  of 
land  and  water,  and  the  Shih  King  declares  that, 
'  when  the  waters  of  the  Flood  had  become  wide- 
spread, Yu  caused  the  various  regions  of  the  earth 
world  to  appear :  the  great  outlying  realms  re- 
ceived their  limitations.' 

According  to  these  accounts,  all  these  works  were 
accomplished  during  a  single  journey.  In  fact, 
the  accounts  probably  describe  work  gradually 
carried  out  through  many  ages,  though  possibly 
commenced  by  Yu.  They  were  evidently  intended 
to  avert  a  constantly  repeated  and  wide-spread 
disaster. 

iii.  Origin  of  the  story. — Legge  believed  that  the 
occasion  of  Yii's  special  work  was  an  actual  inunda- 
tion of  an  alarming  kind  of  the  Hwang-Ho  ( '  the 
sorrow  of  China'),  'which  he  puts  in  the  24th 
cent.  B.C.,  whereas  he  ascribes  this  treatise  to  the 
12th. 

According  to  Meng-tsze  (b.  372  B.C.),  however, 
the  tasks  of  Yii  were  carried  out  under  far  more 
difficult  conditions. 


'  In  the  time  of  Yao,  when  the  earth  was  not  yet  in  ordered 
state,  the  masses  of  water  flowed  unchecked  and  flooded  the 
earth.  Flora  was  excessively  luxuriant,  and  birds  and  other 
living  creatures  went  about  in  enormous  quantities.  Grain 
could  not  grow.  Animals  pressed  hard  on  man.  .  .  .  Yao 
alone  concerned  himself  about  this.  He  appointed  Shun,  who 
developed  an  ordering  activity  and  gave  YT  control  of  fire.  YI 
caused  devastating  conflagrations  on  the  mountains  and  in  the 
marshes,  so  that  the  animals  fled  and  sought  shelter.  Yii 
divided  the  nine  rivers.  .  .  .  Then  it  became  possible  for  the 
folk  of  the  Middle  Kingdom  to  support  themselves '  (iii.  1.  4.  7). 
At  this  same  period,  moreover,  serpents  and  dragons  infested 
these  deluging  waters  ;  but  Yii,  while  appointing  the  rivers  their 
courses,  banished  these  monsters,  the  animals  that  had  op- 
pressed man  vanished,  and  the  plains  of  China  became  habitable 
for  the  human  race  (iii.  2.  9.  3  f.). 

It  is  by  no  means  impossible  that,  as  Legge  held, 
these  accounts  all  had  their  rise  in  a  tradition  of 
an  extraordinary  inundation  by  the  Hwang-Ho ; 
and  in  this  connexion  it  is  worthy  of  note  that  the 
great  flood  of  1851-53  is  said  to  have  cost  some 
millions  of  lives,  while  it  took  15  years  to  repair 
the  damage  and  to  confine  the  river  within  em- 
bankments. At  the  same  time,  it  should  not  be  for- 
gotten that  Grill,  in  his  '  Zur  chinesischen  Flutsage ' 
{Festgruss  an  Roth,  Stuttgart,  1893,  pp.  9-14), 
maintains  that  the  story  is  based  on  a  cosmogonic 
myth,  devoid  of  connexion,  even  in  its  basal  ideas, 
with  the  Bible  account,  and  associated  in  form 
with  experience  of  the  frequent  inundations  of  the 
Hwang-Ho  ;  and,  like  von  Gutschmid  .  (ZDMG 
xxxiv.  192  f.),  he  holds  that  Yii,  to  whom  he 
denies  any  actual  existence  in  history,  was  essen- 
tially a  sort  of  demiurge,  who  helped  to  establish 
civilization  on  earth.  It  is  open  to  question, 
therefore,  at  least  on  the  basis  of  Meng-tsze's 
statements,  whether  this  whole  story  is  not  to 
be  regarded  as  a  cosmogonic  rather  than  as  a 
Deluge  story. 

F.  Folklore  Deluge  stories.— Under  this 
general  heading  are  included  the  numerous  stories 
of  peoples,  mostly  in  a  savage  or  semi-savage  state, 
not  included  under  previous  headings.  It  is  not 
necessary  for  the  present  purpose  to  make  any 
general  classiBcation  of  them  on  either  geographical 
or  ethnological  lines.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  point 
out  a  few  facts  bearing  on  the  subject  of  this 
article. 

i.  One  of  the  essential  characters  of  these  stories 
arises  out  of  the  fact  that  they  are  folklore.  In 
the  Deluge  stories  of  Babylon,  Greece,  and  India 
we  have  well-defined  legends  capable  of  being 
traced  out  more  or  less  distinctly  in  their  develop- 
ments and  ramifications.  Though  a  few  of  the 
stories  now  under  consideration  have  come  to  us  in 
a  written  form  more  or  less  ancient,  they  are  not 
literature  in  the  same  sense,  but  only  stereotyped 
folk-tales.  By  far  the  greater  number  of  these 
stories,  however,  are  still,  or  were  till  recent  years, 
in  a  fluid  and  formative  condition.  The  imagina- 
tion which  has  produced  them  is,  or  was  till  recently, 
still  at  work,  and  has  been  continually  modifying 
them.  It  has  already  been  noticed  how  both  his- 
torical events  and  fancy-striking  anecdotes,  such 
as  Bible  stories,  have  in  many  cases  become  mixed 
with  the  early  tale,  nor  is  it  possible  to  separate 
them  with  scientific  accuracy.  Not  infrequently 
what  is  essentially  the  same  story  is  differently 
told  on  different  occasions,  or  at  any  rate  is 
differently  reported  (Leeward  Islands;  see  IV.  A. 
vi.  (d)). 

ii.  There  are  many  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
getting  trustworthy  evidence.  As  already  pointed 
out,  the  missionaries,  by  whom  most  of  these 
stories  have  been  reported,  were  frequently  pre- 
judiced witnesses  (see  IV.  A.  iii.),  and,  moreover, 
the  stories  in  several  cases  were  collected  some 
time  after  the  conversion  of  the  people  with  whom 
they  originated.  These  missionaries  had  to  depend 
on  their  own  memory  or  that  of  their  converts, 
and  it  was  only  in  quite  exceptional  cases  that  the 


DELUSION 


657 


opportunity  afforded  to  Gill  was  offered  (see  above, 
IV.  ft  («)),  of  reporting  from  the  evidence  of  one 
whose  knowledge  of  heathen  lore  was  both  fresh 
and  complete. 

iii.  Another  striking  fact  is  the  irregularity  in 
the  distribution  of  these  stories.  For  example, 
there  are  very  few  independent  Deluge  stories 
reported  from  Africa,  a  considerable  number  from 
the  islands  of  the  Pacific,  and  an  extraordinarily 
large  number  from  the  continent  of  America. 
This  is  accounted  for  negatively  by  Andree  on 
the  ground  that  Deluge  stories  do  not  readily 
arise  where,  as  in  Africa,  the  inundation  of  the 
great  rivers  is  an  annual  occurrence,  which  does 
not  therefore  impress  the  imagination.  It  may 
be  noticed  in  this  connexion  that  one  of  the  most 
important  exceptions  is  connected  with  a  special 
local  feature — the  formation  of  the  Dilolo  Lake 
on  the  southern  border  of  the  Congo  State  (see 
Andree,  p.  49).  Again,  the  Deluge  legend  of  the 
Masai  in  Uganda,  to  which  attention  has  been 
lately  called  by  Merker  (see  Guardian,  1906,  p. 
945),  is  so  obviously  parallel  with  the  Bible  Deluge 
that  it  cannot  be  regarded  as  independent.  We 
find  here  the  Ark,  pairs  of  animals,  birds  sent  out 
(a  pigeon  and  a  vulture  [cf.  the  crow  of  the  Lummi 
Indians  and  the  humming-bird  of  a  Mexican  story]), 
and  four  (!)  rainbows. 

iv.  It  would  appear  that  there  must  be  some 
positive  reason  for  the  frequency  of  Deluge  stories 
among  the  American  Indians.  George  Catlin,  in 
his  O-Kee-pa  (p.  2),  stated  that  among  120  tribes 
there  was  not  one  which  did  not  relate  some 
distinct  or  vague  tradition  of  a  Flood,  and,  in 
fact,  a  very  considerable  number  of  these  stories 
have  been  preserved.  It  certainly  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  the  idea  of  a  Deluge  impressed  itself 
very  readily  on  the  Indian  tribes,  but  how  far 
this  was  due  to  their  past  experience  as  an  island 
people,  and  how  far  to  the  psychological  character 
of  the  race,  is  a  question  for  the  ethnologist  or 
anthropologist  rather  than  the  student  of  com- 
parative religion.  This  much  at  least  can  be 
said,  that  there  is  some  reason  for  believing  that 
several  of  these  stories  are  of  comparatively  ancient 
origin. 

(1)  In  the  first  place,  there  is  abundant  evi- 
dence to  show  that  Deluge  stories  were  current  in 
Central  and  Southern  America  at  the  time  of  the 
Spanish  occupation.  (2)  The  common  elements  in 
the  stories  of  neighbouring  and  related  tribes  in 
some  cases  point  to  an  ancient  tradition  in  which 
a  characteristic  feature  has  become  rooted  in  the 
imagination,  (a)  Several  of  the  tribes  about 
Peru,  though  their  Deluge  stories  differ  widely  in 
other  respects,  have  the  common  feature  of  a 
floating  mountain — a  combination,  it  would  seem, 
of  the  ark  and  the  mountain  of  refuge.  (6)  In 
more  than  one  Mexican  legend  men  were  turned 
by  the  Deluge  into  fish,  (c)  We  have  noticed 
that  several  tribes  about  the  Orinoco  and  its 
neighbourhood  have  the  common  features  of  stones 
(or  coco-nuts)  thrown  to  produce  men  (see  IV.  A. 
v.  (2)).  (d)  Of  still  greater  interest  is  the  curious 
feature  already  mentioned  (IV.  ft  (a))  that  land 
was  produced  after  the  Deluge,  not  by  the  water 
subsiding,  but  out  of  scattered  gTains  of  sand  or 
earth  springing  up  and  growing  like  seeds.  Thus 
in  the  story  of  the  Ojibwas,  after  the  loon  has 
dived  several  times  in  vain,  it  is  the  musk-rat 
restored  to  life  by  the  surviving  Manabozho  (who 
was  standing  up  to  his  neck  in  water  on  the 
summit  of  a  high  tree)  that  dives  and  brings 
up  the  grains  of  sand  between  its  toes.  These 
Manabozho  throws  into  the  waters,  and  they 
grow  into  islands,  which  unite  into  mainland. 
In  a  story  of  the  Sac  and  Fox  Indians,  another 
branch   of  the  Algonquins,  the  survivor,   seeing 


that  the  Deluge  would  soon  overwhelm  the  moun- 
tain on  which  he  had  sought  refuge,  built  a  canoe 
out  of  a  piece  of  the  blue  sky.  After  sailing  about 
some  days,  he  sent  out  one  of  the  largest  fishes, 
which  returned  with  its  monster  mouth  full  of 
earth,  out  of  which  he  formed  the  dry  land.  In 
the  story  of  the  Chippewas  (Montagnais),  a 
related  group,  it  is  the  northern  diver  that 
eventually  returns  to  the  canoe  with  clay  on  his 
webbed  feet,  after  the  beaver,  otter,  and  musk-rat 
have  failed.  This  the  old  man  breathed  upon, 
and  it  became  a  great  island,  (e)  We  find,  again, 
in  certain  groups  of  tribes  that  a  particular  animal 
plays  a  prominent  part,  as  the  coyote  among  the 
Californians  (Wappos,  Papagos,  etc.),  the  raven 
among  those  on  the  north-west  seaboard  of  N. 
America  (Thlinkits  and  Bella  Coolas). 

v.  This  prominence  of  animals  is  a  very  char- 
acteristic feature  of  the  American  Indian  stories, 
and  is  by  some  believed  to  be  connected  ultimately 
with  totem-worship,  whereas  in  the  stories  of  some 
other  groups,  such  as  those  of  the  South  Sea 
Islanders,  a  greater  prominence  is  given  relatively 
to  what  we  should  call  the  wonders  or  powers  of 
Nature.  Thus,  according  to  Bancroft  (iii.  87),  the 
Californians1  describe  themselves  as  having  origin- 
ated from  the  coyote. 

Among  the  Algonquin  tribeB  the  black  serpent  is  the  enemy 
of  man  and  of  created  beings,  and  sends  the  Deluge.  Mana- 
bozho, in  more  than  one  story  of  this  group,  takes  refuge  on 
the  turtle's  back.  In  the  stories  of  the  Ojibwas  his  helper  is 
usually  the  diver  or  the  musk-rat.  With  the  Hare  Indians  it  is 
the  raven  who  causes  the  Deluge  in  vengeance  for  being  thrown 
into  the  fire ;  and  it  is  the  white  owl  who  befriends  the  wise 
man  by  letting  out  the  cattle  which  the  raven  had  imprisoned. 
With  the  Cherokees  it  is  a  dog  which  foretells  the  Deluge ; 
with  the  Peruvians  the  llamas  reveal  it  to  a  shepherd.  The 
Crees  have  it  that  an  eagle  rescued  the  one  surviving  maiden, 
and  became  by  her  the  father  of  the  new  race.  In  a  very 
original  story  of  the  Pimas  (California),  the  god's  son  Szeuka, 
being  angry  with  the  eagle  for  having  caused  the  Deluge,  climbs 
up  to  its  evrie,  slays  it,  and  restores  to  life  those  whom  it  had 
killed  (Bancroft,  iii.  78). 

vi.  The  general  inference  from  a  study  of  these 
folklore  Deluge  stories  is  that  we  have  not  to 
deal  with  mythological  or  cosmological  systems, 
in  which  a  Deluge  occupied  a  part,  but  rather  that 
these  stories  were  the  result  of  experience,  tradi- 
tion, imagination,  and  natural  curiosity,  acting 
sometimes  separately,  but  more  often  in  combina- 
tion in  different  ways  and  different  degrees. 

Literature. — The  best  general  book,  esp.  for  Deluge  folklore, 
is  R.  Andree,  Die  Elutsagen,  Brunswick,  1891,  which  contains 
a  large  and  interesting  collection  of  Deluge  stories.  Among 
the  most  important  books  referred  to  by  Andree  are  H.  H 
Bancroft,  Native  Races  of  the  Pacific  States,  6  vols.,  London, 
1875-76  ;  A.  Humboldt,  Sites  des  Cordilleres  et  monuments  des 
peuples  indigenes,  Paris,  1868  ;  W.  Ellis,  Polynesian  Researches, 

2  vols.,  London,  1829 ;  W.  W.  Gill,  Myths  and  Songs  from  the 
S.  Pacific,  London,   1876 ;    E.  Suss,  Das  Antlitz  der  Erde, 

3  vols.,  Leipzig,  1883-85 ;  F.  Lenormant,  Les  Origines  de 
Vhistoire  d'apres  la  Bible,  Paris,  1880.  For  a  careful  tabulation  of 
Deluge  stories,  see  M.  Winternitz,  'Die  Flutsagen  des  Altertums 
und  der  Naturvolker,'  in  Mitteil.  der  anthrop.  Gesellsch.  in  Vtien, 
xxxi.  [1901]  305-333.  Translations  and  comments  upon  the 
Akkadian  Deluge  story  are  given  in  KIB  vi.  299ff.  ;  P.  Haupt, 
Der  keilinschriftliche  Sintfiutbericht,  Leipzig,  1881 ;  A.  H. 
Sayce,  Higher  Criticism  and  the  Monuments,  London 
1894,  ch.  iii.  ;  C.  J.  Ball,  Light  from  the  East,  London,  1899, 
pp.  34-43.  The  most  important  Indian,  Chinese,  and  Persian 
Deluge  legends  are  given  in  SEE,  ed.  by  Max  Miiller  (see  alBO 
references  in  this  article).  For  Greek  Deluge  stories,  apart  from 
theories  about  them,  the  best  work  is  H.  Usener,  Die  Sintfiut- 
sagen,  Bonn,  1899.  F.   H.   WOODS. 

DELUSION. — Delusion  in  the  popular  sense 
simply  means  a  mistaken  belief.  In  the  technical 
sense,  however,  it  means  a  wrong  belief  which  is 
maintained  because  of  a  defect  in  thinking.  And 
that  is  the  meaning  which  the  word  should  always 
have ;  for  there  is  manifestly  an  important  differ- 
ence, for  example,  between  a  mistaken  opinion 
which  may  be  held  because  of  wrong  information 
supplied  or  facts  withheld,  and  one  which  is  main- 
tained owing  to  an  error  in  reasoning.  A  delusion 
is  a  belief  falsely  believed — that  is,  believed  be- 


558 


DELUSION 


cause  of  a  faulty  mind.  To  stretch  the  point,  an 
opinion,  even  if  it  is  a  good  opinion,  is  delusional 
it  it  is  not  supported  by  facts.  And  that  brings  us 
u>  a  distinction  which  is  of  some  value — that  there 
are  beliefs  which  are  demonstrably  untrue  and 
which  are  delusions ;  and  there  are  beliefs  which 
we  cannot  prove  to  be  untrue,  which  may  even 
be  correct,  yet  are  arrived  at  by  a  delusional 
process. 

The  delusional  state  of  mind — the  kind  of  think- 
ing which  is  prone  to  delusion — very  often  results 
from  some  disease,  of  greater  or  less  degree, 
acquired  in  adolescent  or  adult  life,  which 
warps  the  judgment  by  tampering  with  the  brain's 
mechanism,  upon  which  correct  thinking  depends. 
In  the  development  of  a  mind  to  the  level  of  a 
mature  judgment,  an  enormous  mass  of  experience 
contributes,  and  a  very  great  part  of  our  think- 
ing rests  upon  obvious  opinions  which  we  never 
take  the  trouble  to  test.  It  is  part  of  the  mis- 
fortune of  a  delusional  mind  that  it  may  begin 
to  question  such  standard  opinions — opinions  which 
ought  to  be  regarded  as  axioms,  and  upon  which 
the  whole  fabric  of  our  thought  is  based.  For 
example,  a  man  may  have  a  doubt  (and  it  has 
occurred,  and  much  writing  has  been  wasted  in  the 
exposition  of  it)  as  to  whether  two  and  two  really 
do  make  four.  Scepticism  of  this  sort,  when  it 
goes  far,  is  an  exhausting  mental  process,  and 
the  mind  that  indulges  in  it  is  apt  to  suffer 
further  trouble.  It  is  a  form  of  illness  which 
may  be  called  a  wasting  disease  of  the  mind, 
as  if  a  man  were  to  consume  his  own  skeleton 
and  have  neither  backbone  nor  leg  by  which  to 
stand  erect.  On  the  other  hand,  a  great  deal  of 
delusion  can  be  traced  to  a  vice  at  the  opposite 
extreme — a  kind  of  mental  indolence.  A  large 
number  of  people  who  have  wits  enough  to  think 
if  they  had  energy  to  use  them,  believe  things 
which  they  have  no  right  to  believe,  and  enter- 
tain opinions  which  do  not  harmonize  with  those 
which  they  have  earned  a  right  to  entertain.  In 
these  cases,  again,  there  is  what  we  may  call 
a  sore  spot  in  the  mind — a  place  where  friction 
occurs  when  the  rational  process  is  checked  by 
superstition.  It  is  always  a  source  of  mental  weak- 
ness in  a  thoughtful  man  to  reserve  certain  subjects 
and  to  neglect  or  refuse  to  discuss  them.  That, 
however,  is  not  to  say  that  there  is  no  place  in 
good  thinking  for  reverence,  or  that  a  good  mind 
will  not  continue  in  mystery.  On  the  contrary, 
the  essence  of  delusion  is  the  being  too  certain,  too 

Suick  to  seize  and  hold  a  definite  opinion.  This  is 
lustrated  by  a  very  constant  quality  of  delusion 
— that  it  refuses  to  be  guided  by  facts  or  modified 
by  argument.  There  are  some  people  whose  minds 
are  very  hard  to  move  ;  once  they  nave  formed  an 
opinion — and  such  people  form  opinions  about  many 
things — they  will  not  give  up  or  even  be  shaken 
in  their  belief ;  and  the  reason  is  that  it  is  one  of 
their  mental  characteristics,  due  in  part  to  brain 
conditions,  to  find  changes  irksome.  We  must  also 
observe  that  there  are  certain  beliefs  which  are 
essentially  pleasure-giving ;  it  is  tempting  to  hold 
an  opinion  which  seems  fitting  and  good,  and  it  is 
easy  to  retain,  as  convictions,  some  comfortable 
beliefs  which  have  never  been  subjected  to  criti- 
cism ;  perhaps  the  majority  of  the  delusions  com- 
monly entertained  concern  things  which  people  like 
to  believe  and  refuse  to  disturb,  not  on  grounds  of 
reason,  but  on  grounds  of  feeling. 

In  insane  delusions — by  which  we  mean  delusions 
which  occur  in  insanity,  and  which  are  due  to  actual 
brain  disease — the  quality  of  unreasonableness  is 
very  marked.  If  an  insane  person  insists  that  he 
is  made  of  glass,  he  will  not  be  disillusioned  by  a 
demonstration  of  the  fragile  nature  of  glass  and  of 
his  own  resistance  to  fracture ;  he  will  only  retort 


that  the  kind  of  glass  of  which  he  is  made  is  not  the 
ordinary  breaking  kind ;  hence  the  common  prac- 
tice with  such  people  on  the  part  of  those  who 
have  the  care  of  them.  And  it  is  the  best  method 
for  all  delusional  people,  whether  sane  or  insane ; 
there  is  no  use  trying  to  argue  with  them  ;  there- 
fore change  the  subject,  encourage  reasonableness 
in  general,  and  trust  that  in  time,  after  a  develop- 
ment of  other  parts  of  the  mind,  the  '  patient '  on 
coming  back  to  the  vexed  question  again  will  see 
it  in  a  new  light. 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  the  subjects  concern- 
ing which  people  are  prone  to  express  delusions  are 
often  mystifying  even  to  the  most  expert  thinker — 
electrical  phenomena,  facts  connected  with  mes- 
merism or  hypnotism,  insanity,  occult  religious 
facts,  and  all  sorts  of  novelties  and  new  inventions. 

From  what  has  been  said  concerning  the  nature 
of  delusion,  it  becomes  clear  that  the  subject  is  an 
important  one,  both  in  a  theory  of  mind  and  in 
practical  affairs ;  and  it  is  instructive  to  try  to 
determine  the  extent  and  the  province  of  delusion 
in  normal  thought.  To  do  so  exhaustively  is  im- 
possible ;  but  it  is  easy  to  cite  a  few  examples 
which  will  suggest,  to  any  one  who  cares  to  pursue 
the  subject,  a  great  many  more.  There  is,  for 
instance,  a  veiy  large  group  of  what  we  may  call 
natural  illusions,  which  are  inevitably,  and  in- 
extricably woven  into  the  fabric  of  experience, 
and  which,  assumed  as  true,  become  delusions.  In 
the  strict  sense,  an  illusion  (q.v.)  differs  from  a 
delusion  in  that  it  is  an  error  in  sense-perception 
rather  than  an  error  in  thinking.  And  it  is  per- 
missible to  hold  that  delusion  includes  illusion ; 
that  all  illusions,  when  accepted  as  true,  are  de- 
lusions, though  only  a  few  delusions  are  illusions. 
By  natural  illusion,  then,  is  meant  all  that  margin 
of  error — and  it  is  a  large  one — by  which  the  senses, 
in  their  natural  and  normal  activities,  convey 
wrong  information  to  the  brain.  For  it  is  strictly 
true  that  things  are  not  what  they  seem.  It  is 
usual,  in  this  connexion,  to  enlarge  upon  visual 
errors,  partly  because  these  are  obvious  and  admit 
of  being  proved.  It  is  certain  that  the  picture 
which  the  brain  receives  from  the  eyes  does  not 
correspond  to  the  object  looked  at.  Some  of  the 
delusions  thereby  suggested  have  been  corrected. 
Every  educated  man,  for  example,  refuses  to  accept 
the  testimony  of  his  eyes  that  the  world  is  flat. 
Yet  a  great  mass  of  visual  error  goes  uncorrected  ; 
men  and  women  take  the  picture  suggested  by 
the  eyes  to  be  true ;  and,  as  the  error  and  its 
acceptance  are  natural  and  all  but  universal,  the 
delusion  passes  muster  in  common  thought.  But, 
to  appreciate  the  amount  of  error  thus  imported, 
we  must  not  forget  that  all  the  other  senses  are 
similarly  faulty.  It  is  certain,  and  again  capable 
of  scientific  proof,  that  errors  of  hearing  are  con- 
siderable. Not  only  do  ears  differ  widely  in  in- 
dividuals in  their  acuteness,  but  it  is  certain  that 
no  one  hears  correctly,  that  the  sound  -  image 
accepted  by  the  brain  never  corresponds  to  the 
'  pattern '  of  the  sound-waves  in  the  atmosphere. 
Yet  the  great  majority  of  people  hear  enough  for 
practical  purposes  with  approximately  the  same 
error  in  the  hearing  of  it,  and,  by  tacit  consent, 
the  error  is  not  regarded.  A  great  fallacy  similarly 
besets  the  sense  of  touch  and  the  muscular  sense, 
which  gives  us  information  concerning  resistances 
— the  hardness  and  density,  weight  and  strength 
of  things.  And,  if  this  is  true  of  senses  which 
supply  to  the  mind  data  which  can  be  to  a  large 
extent  scientifically  tested,  it  may  be  assumed  to 
be  equally  true  of  the  senses  of  taste  and  smell. 
We  may  even  conjecture  that,  subtle  and  com- 
plex as  these  senses  are,  they  are  also  occasionally 
lllusional. 

Before  leaving  this  aspect  of  delusion,  it  is  well 


DEMOCRITUS 


669 


to  advert  to  hallucinatiou  (q.v.).  A  hallucina- 
tion, like  an  illusion,  is  a  wrong  sense-perception, 
but  diti'ers  from  it  in  that  there  is  no  outward 
object  for  the  hallucination.  A  hallucination  is  a 
perception— most  commonly  of  the  eye  or  ear — 
which  is  purely  and  wholly  subjective.  If  the 
mind  accepts  this  fiction  of  the  senses,  there  is 
obviously  delusion.  Hallucinations  do  not  bulk 
largely  in  normal  thinking  ;  but  they  are  frequent 
and  important  in  mental  disease. 

In  conclusion,  we  may  refer  briefly  to  common 
forms  of  delusion  more  in  the  sphere  of  thought. 
Perhaps  the  best  example  of  all  but  universal 
delusion  is  the  common  belief  in  an  absolutely 
free  will.  It  would  be  entirely  out  of  place  here 
to  regard  the  subject  philosophically.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  it  is  obvious  that  sometimes  one's  will  is 
not  wholly  free  in  the  ordinary  sense.  Yet  people 
invariably  think  and  speak  as  if  choices  were 
always  of  their  own  making.  This  delusion  is 
clearly  necessary  and  salutary ;  without  it  both 
thinking  and  doing  would  come  to  a  standstill. 
Another  delusion,  equally  inevitable  and  necessary, 
is  one  which  besets  every  thinking  man,  that  is, 
that  he  believes  he  possesses  a  thinking  organ 
which  works  correctly.  Give  two  men  exactly  the 
same  data  and  let  them  think  out  a  conclusion  : 
each  believes,  is  bound  to  believe,  that  he  is  think- 
ing correctly ;  yet  in  many  eases  the  conclusions 
will  differ ;  so  there  must  be  error  somewhere. 
Finally,  we  may  cite  the  very  prevalent  delusion 
that  any  thought  can  reach  a  final  conclusion. 
Nearly  every  one  feels,  and  a  great  many  people 
believe,  that  a  subject  can  be  finished,  that  thought 
can  reach  and  hold  all  there  is  to  be  known  about 
it,  and  usually  a  statement  of  the  conclusion  is 
forthcoming.  And,  while  it  is  obvious  that  no 
subject  can  be  exhausted  and  no  statement  final, 
this  delusion  is  also  inevitable.  These  examples 
will  suffice  to  illustrate  the  subject,  and  it  only  re- 
mains to  add  that  a  wise  mind  will  take  note  of  the 
inevitable  margin  of  error  in  its  own  operations 
and  perhaps  discount  it,  yet  not  be  daunted  by  it. 

Literature. — J.  Sully,  Illusions :  a  Psychological  Study, 
London,  1881 ;  E.  Parish,  Hallucinations  and  Illusions,  do. 
1897 ;  C.  A.  Merrier,  Psychology,  Normal  and  Morbid,  do. 
1901 ;  T.  S.  Clouston,  Mental  Diseases,  do.  1904,  and  Hygiene 
of  Mind,  do.  1906  ;  J.  H.  Hyslop,  Borderland  of  Psychical 
Research,  do.  1906 ;  G.  Stbrring,  Mental  Pathology  in  its 
Relation  to  Normal  Psychology,  tr.  T.  Loveday,  do.  1907  ;  D.  P. 
Rhodes,  The  Philosophy  of  Change,  New  York,  1909. 

George  K.  Wilson. 
DEMOCRACY.— See  Government. 

DEMOCRITUS.— A  Greek  philosopher  (c.  460- 
c.  356  B.C.)  whose  importance  lies  in  his  being  the 
pioneer  of  Materialism  and  the  mechanical  ex- 
planation of  the  universe. 

I.  Life  and  writings. — The  birthplace  of  Demo- 
critus  was  Abdera  in  Thrace,  a  flourishing  colony 
founded  by  the  Ionian  city  of  Teos.  He  must 
have  been  a  fellow-citizen,  and,  if  the  received 
dates  are  approximately  correct,  a  younger  con- 
temporary, of  Protagoras.  The  accounts  of  his 
life  which  have  come  down  to  us  are  open  to 
suspicion  on  various  grounds.  They  dwell  on  his 
insatiable  scientific  curiosity,  which  impelled  him 
to  spend  years  in  foreign  travel.  He  is  said  to 
have  visited  Egypt  in  order  to  learn  geometry 
from  the  priests,  and  to  have  held  personal  inter- 
course with  Magi  and  Chaldceans  in  Persia  and 
Babylonia.  What  amount  of  truth  there  is  in 
these  tales  it  is  hard  to  say.  Like  Pythagoras, 
Democritus  became  to  later  ages  a  legendary 
figure,  whose  real  attainments  in  mathematics, 
physics,  and  astronomy  appeared  less  remarkable 
than  his  supposed  skill  in  alchemy  and  magic. 
The  list  of  his  writings  that  survives  shows  him 
to  have  been  a  prolific  author.     The  grammarian 


Thrasyllus,  in  the  time  of  Tiberius,  arranged  the 
collection  in  tetralogies,  or  sets  of  four — the  same 
arrangement  which  he  had  adopted  for  the  Dia- 
logues of  Plato.  The  lucidity  and  simplicity  of 
Democritus'  style  are  praised  in  antiquity  by  com- 
petent critics  like  Tirnon,  Cicero,  and  Dionysius 
of  Halicarnassus.  He  wrote  in  the  Ionic  dialect, 
hitherto  almost  exclusively  employed  by  prose 
writers,  although  in  his  own  lifetime  it  was  being 
gradually  superseded  by  Attic.  The  subject? 
treated  were,  to  judge  by  their  titles,  chiefly 
Mathematics,  Physics,  Astronomy,  Anthropology, 
and  Ethics.  We  have  fragments  definitely  stated 
to  come  from  the  Kapwj/  and  the  KparuvT-qpia,  both 
dealing  with  the  method  of  science,  and  from  the 
wept  Evdvfilijs,  an  ethical  treatise. 

To  his  mathematical  achievements  there  is  un- 
impeachable testimony.  Three  of  the  thirteen 
tetralogies  consisted  of  treatises  on  Geometry  and 
kindred  subjects,  including  Optics  and  Astronomy. 
From  the  title  of  one  of  them,  '  On  irrational 
straight  lines  and  solids '  (irepi  aKbywv  ypa/j./j.&v  nal 
vaorwv),  it  may  be  inferred  that  Democritus  pre- 
ceded Euclid  in  the  investigation  of  irrationals— a 
problem  which,  as  we  know  from  Plato's  Thecete- 
tus,  was  occupying  the  foremost  geometers  in  the 
4th  cent.  B.C.  Similarly,  Archimedes  in  his  irepl 
rCiv  jj.TjxavLKui'  deiop-qixaTuv  irpbs  ''Qparoadtvov  t-tpobos 
(lately  discovered  at  Constantinople,  and  published 
by  Heiberg  in  1907)  assigns  to  Democritus  no 
small  part  of  the  credit  for  two  important  the- 
orems, namely,  that  the  cone  is  one- third  part  of 
the  cylinder,  and  the  pyramid  one-third  part  of 
the  prism,  having  the  same  base  and  equal  height. 
Democritus  made  the  discoveries  by  means  of 
mechanical  methods  ;  Archimedes  afterwards  sup- 
plied a  rigorous  geometrical  proof.  The  investi- 
gation by  means  of  mechanics  involved  a  partial 
anticipation  of  the  infinitesimal  calculus  (see 
Heath's  The  Thirteen  Books  of  Euclid's  Elements, 
Cambridge,  1908,  iii.  366-368,  4,  ii.  40). 

It  is  not,  however,  from  the  meagre  fragments 
remaining  that  we  derive  our  best  information  as 
to  the  doctrines  Democritus  taught,  but  rather 
from  the  criticism  of  opponents,  especially  Aris- 
totle and  Theophrastus,  who  gave  to  his  works  the 
attention  they  deserved.  Aristotle  in  his  scientific 
treatises  is  evidently  much  indebted  to  Democritus, 
and,  though  he  often  dissents  from  his  conclusions, 
invariably  speaks  of  him  with  respect  and  admira- 
tion. Plato,  it  is  true,  never  mentions  him  by 
name,  yet  from  various  passages  in  the  Dialogues 
it  is  obvious  that  not  only  was  he  acquainted  with 
the  system  of  the  Atomists,  but  even  regarded 
Democritus  as  the  type  and  representative  of  all 
those  tendencies  which  he  himself  most  actively 
combated. 

2.  Leucippus. — Democritus  can  hardly  claim  to 
have  originated  the  system  which  he  taught. 
There  seems  no  valid  ground  for  doubting  the 
statement  that  Leucippus  preceded  him  in  laying 
the  foundations  of  Atomism,  which  they  both 
afterwards  developed  in  common. 

The  metaphysical  basis  of  Leucippus'  doctrine, 
as  stated  by  Aristotle,  presumed  the  Eleatic 
paradox  that  reality  or  real  being  is  One,  not 
Many,  immutable  and  eternal,  not  transient  and 
diverse :  whence  the  Eleatics  deduced  that  our 
world  of  manifold  and  fleeting  appearances  is  not 
that  which  truly  exists.  As  all  the  earlier  Greeks, 
from  Thales  downwards,  in  their  search  for  a 
primary  substance  were  unconsciously  endeavour- 
ing to  frame  a  conception  of  matter,  the  permanent 
substratum  of  the  outer  world,  the  Eleatic  paradox 
is  only  another  way  of  stating  that  matter  alone 
is,  where  by  '  matter '  is  meant  the  Full,  not  the 
Empty,  or,  in  modern  parlance,  that  which  has 
mass.     Empty  space,  then,  if  it  is  not  matter.  i= 


560 


DEMOCRITUS 


non-existent ;  the  world  is  a  continuous  indivisible 
plenum.  Leucippus,  if  he  is  to  be  credited  with 
originating  the  Atomistic  doctrine,  altered  this 
conception  by  opposing  extension  to  mass  as  the 
fundamental  postulate.  The  extended  as  full  and 
the  extended  as  empty,  the  plenum  and  the 
vacuum,  or  matter  occupying  space  and  space 
unoccupied  by  matter,  were  in  his  view  equally 
real.  The  Eleatics  were  right  in  asserting  the 
one,  but  wrong  in  denying  the  other.  By  intro- 
ducing real  space  and  the  geometrical  forms  of 
bodies  as  spatially  determined,  Leucippus  de- 
stroyed the  Eleatic  One  and  reverted  to  pluralism. 
But  he  had  still  to  meet  the  subtle  arguments 
from  infinite  divisibility,  by  which  Zeno  of  Elea 
had  disproved  the  possibility  of  motion  and  of 
multiplicity.  Since  these  arguments  could  not  be 
refuted,  nothing  remained  but  to  postulate  indi- 
visibles (&TO/XOI,  Sro/xa)  as  the  ultimate  constituents 
of  corporeal  reality — things  in  space  (Ar.  Phys. 
i.  3.  187a,  1-3).  The  sum  of  existence,  then,  in- 
cludes empty  space  as  well  as  the  atoms  or  indi- 
visible particles  of  matter  in  space.  Both  matter 
and  space  are  eternal,  infinite,  and  homogeneous 
throughout.  The  only  differences  which  single 
atoms  present  are  differences  of  shape,  from  which 
must  follow  differences  of  magnitude.  But  fresh 
differences  are  introduced  when  single  atoms  come 
to  be  grouped  and  arranged  in  what  we  call  indi- 
vidual things.  There  then  arise  differences  of 
order  and  position  of  the  atoms  in  space ;  for,  to 
use  a  familiar  illustration,  A  differs  from  N  in 
shape ;  AN  is  not  the  same  as  NA,  the  order  is 
different ;  nor  is  W  the  same  as  H,  the  position  is 
different.  Aristotle  (Metaph.  i.  4.  9856,  13  ff.)  in 
giving  this  account  admits  that  he  is  substituting, 
for  the  precise  Ionic  terms  pv<rp.6s  (fashion),  diadiyr) 
(inter-contact),  Tpoir-q  (turning),  his  own  equiva- 
lents o-xypa  (figure,  shape),  rdijis  (arrangement, 
order),  Bins  (position).  It  will  be  obvious,  upon 
reflexion,  that  these  three  kinds  of  difference  are 
merely  spatial  relations  posited  and  presupposed 
by  the  very  conception  of  space  as  extended  in 
three  dimensions. 

Here  seems  the  proper  place  to  deal  with  a  con- 
troversial question  of  great  difficulty  :  of  the  three 
differences  between  atoms  (shape,  order,  position), 
only  one  (shape)  relates  to  single  atoms.  That 
size  must  go  with  shape  as  a  property  of  the 
single  atom  seems  certain  :  e.g.  atoms  of  fire  are 
described  as  the  smallest  as  well  as  the  most 
mobile.  But  no  good  authority  attributes  to 
Leucippus  or  Democritus  any  utterance  implying 
that  weight  was  a  fundamental  property  of  the 
atom,  although  Epicurus,  when  he  revised  the 
original  doctrine  of  the  Atomists,  expressly  derived 
weight  as  well  as  magnitude  from  shape,  and,  as 
is  well  known,  deduced  from  their  weight  the 
tendency  of  free  atoms  to  fall.  Later  authorities 
not  unnaturally  confused  the  Atomic  doctrine  of 
Leucippus  and  the  revised  version  of  Epicurus. 
But  the  opinion  has  now  gained  ground  that  Leu- 
cippus and  Democritus  put  forward  no  positive 
views  as  to  weight  being  a  fundamental  property 
of  a  free  or  isolated  atom,  or  as  to  the  direction 
and  force  of  the  motion  originally  inherent  in  a 
free  atom. 

3.  Developments  of  Atomism. — (a)  Relativity  of 
sensible  qualities. — We  have  given  in  outline  the 
theory  which  Democritus  adopted  and  developed. 
When  compared  with  the  rival  systems  of  Empe- 
docles  and  Anaxagoras,  it  is  seen  to  be  decidedly 
superior  in  simplicity  and  logical  coherence.  These 
other  systems  also  resolve  the  universe  into  matter 
in  motion ;  but,  in  the  resolution  proposed  by  the 
Atomists,  qualitative  changes  in  things  result 
from  quantitative  changes  in  their  constituent 
elements,  and  all  proceeds  uniformly  by  a  law  of 


natural  necessity.  Each  of  these  two  position 
calls  for  further  elucidation.  The  conception  of  a 
permanent  substratum,  or  primary  matter,  to  the 
early  Greek  thinkers,  involved  two  attributes.  It 
was,  they  thought,  at  once  indestructible  and  im- 
mutable ;  in  other  words,  the  sum  of  matter  in  the 
universe  remains  quantitatively  and  qualitatively 
constant  amid  all  the  change  and  variety  of 
Nature.  How  this  result  was  secured  by  the 
Eleatics  has  already  been  shown.  Empedoeles 
and  Anaxagoras  took  another  way,  maintaining  a 
plurality  of  elements  qualitatively  constant.  The 
four  elements  of  Empedoeles — earth,  water,  air, 
fire — and  the  infinity  of  seeds  assumed  by  Anaxa- 
goras are  alike  in  this,  that  they  possess  as  funda- 
mental and  inalienable  the  qualities  perceptible  to 
sense.  But  these  attempts  to  shape  the  conception 
of  matter  were  attended  by  insuperable  difficul- 
ties, so  long  as  the  sensible  qualities  of  derivative 
bodies  were  ascribed  to  the  original  elements 
(whether  four  or  an  infinite  number)  out  of  which 
these  bodies  were  compounded.  In  fact,  on  the 
theory  of  Anaxagoras,  the  distinction  between 
original  and  derivative  forms  of  matter  vanishes, 
for  there  must  be  as  many  primary  substances  as 
there  are  varieties  of  sensible  qualities. 

This  difficulty  the  Atomists  solved  by  distin- 
guishing the  fundamental  properties  of  matter  as 
such  from  all  other  sensible  qualities.  In  prin- 
ciple the  distinction  is  the  same  as  that  made  by 
Locke  between  primary  and  secondary  qualities. 
The  changing  qualities  of  sensible  things,  such  as 
colour,  flavour,  odoui,  temperature,  cease  then  to 
be  attributes  of  matter  as  such ;  and  Democritus 
expressed  this  by  saying :  '  By  custom  there  is 
bitter  and  sweet,  hot  and  cold,  and  colour ;  in 
reality  nothing  but  atoms  and  void'  (Sext.  ado. 
Math.  vii.  135  ;  Diels,  55  B,  9  [i.2  388]).  It  would, 
however,  be  misleading  to  characterize  these 
secondary  qualities  as  subjective :  they  lose  no- 
thing of  objective  validity  because  the  mode  in 
which  they  produce  their  effects  has  become  ex- 
plicable. To  take  the  first  pair  of  qualities  in 
the  citation  from  Democritus — sweet  and  bitter. 
It  is  an  acknowledged  fact  that  wine,  which 
normally  tastes  sweet,  is  bitter  to  the  jaundiced 
patient,  and  we  may  infer  from  Plato's  T/ieastetus 
that  Protagoras  had  called  attention  to  this  and 
similar  facts.  Now  the  Atomistic  doctrine  declares 
wine,  like  all  other  sensible  bodies,  to  be  merely 
a  complex  of  atoms  of  such  and  such  a  shape, 
size,  and  position,  and  containing  such  and  such 
a  proportion  of  vacuum.  As  such,  each  body  pro- 
duces a  certain  effect  upon  all  other  similar  bodies, 
including  the  human  organs  of  taste.  That  effect, 
again,  must  partly  depend  upon  the  constitution 
of  those  organs,  and  on  their  permanent  or  tem- 
porary, con.mon  or  individual,  qualities.  But, 
whereas  Protagoras  emphasized  the  divergence  of 
the  effects  unuci  uifferent  conditions,  and  left  out 
of  sight  its  possible  causes,  the  Atomistic  theory 
took  account  of  both.  It  allowed  a  relative  value 
to  the  divergent  perceptions,  while  at  the  same 
time  it  maintained  the  objective  validity  of  that 
which  produced  them — in  other  words,  the  struc- 
ture of  perceptible  material  bodies  and  the  essential 
properties  of  the  matter  out  of  which  they  were 
constituted.  Viewed  in  this  light,  an  enigmatical 
utterance  attributed  to  Democritus  by  the  Epi- 
curean Colotes  becomes  perfectly  intelligible.  If 
Democritus  said  that  an  object  does  not  possess 
one  kind  of  quality  more  than  another  (twp 
■jrpayu&Twv  2/:aoToe  elirtbv  01)  fjr.SXKov  rolov  ■$)  fotov 
eTmi— Plut.  adv.  Col.  4,  p.  1108  F;  Diels,  55  B,  150 
[i2.  413]),  we  may  be  sure  that  he  was  speaking  of 
the  secondary  qualities,  and  not  of  the  properties 
of  matter  as  such.  The  atoms  have  no  secondary 
qualities.      Thus  colours,    flavours,   odours,   tem- 


DEMOCRITUS 


061 


perature,  have  no  objective  existence  per  se  ;  they, 
at  all  events  when  perceived,  are  relative  to  the 
percipient.  To  one  who  held  this  view  the  task  of 
science  was  immensely  enlarged,  at  the  same  time 
that  it  became  more  delinite.  The  problem  was 
to  advance  from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  to 
determine  precisely  how  the  motion  of  atoms  in 
the  void  produced  the  totality  of  changes,  and  the 
variety  of  changing  qualities  perceived  by  sense. 
No  wonder  that,  unaided  by  the  apparatus  of 
modern  science,  the  explorer  from  time  to  time 
regretted  the  futility  of  results  attained,  and  con- 
fessed with  a  sigh : 

'  Truth  lies  in  the  deep '  (Diog.  Laert.  ix.  72.  6  ;  Diels,  55  B, 
117  [i.2  407]).  '  We  perceive,  in  fact,  nothing  certain,  but  such 
things  only  as  change  with  the  state  of  our  body,  and  of  that 
which  enters  it,  and  which  resists  it '  (Sext.  ado.  Math.  vii.  136  ; 
Diels,  55  B,  9  [i.2  388]). 

No  less  important  is  the  part  played  in  the 
system  by  the  conception  of  causation.  A  fragment 
of  Leucippus  lays  down  the  axiom  that  '  nothing 
comes  by  accident,  but  everything  from  a  cause 
and  under  stress  of  necessity '  (Aet.  i.  25.  4  ;  Diels, 
54  B,  2  [i.a  350]).  In  such  unequivocal  terms  did 
he  state  the  universal  law  of  causation,  and  to  this 
principle  his  successor  consistently  adhered.  For 
all  that  happens  in  Nature  a  sufficient  explanation 
was  furnished  by  kinematics  and  mechanics ;  there 
was  then  no  need  of  any  supplementary  hypothesis, 
whether  of  design  on  the  one  hand  or  of  arbitrary 
spontaneity  on  the  other.  It  was  enough  to  assume 
motion  as  an  inherent  attribute  of  matter — an 
ultimate  fact  for  which  no  derivation  was  required. 
The  motions  of  the  atoms  were  as  eternal  as  the 
atoms  themselves,  and  were  necessary  ;  that  is,  in 
the  unending  series  of  movements  each  followed 
upon  and  was  determined  by  definite  antecedents. 
Granted  that  atoms  moving  in  space  come  into 
collision,  the  whole  history  of  the  universe  becomes 
an  application  of  mechanical  laws.  Colliding 
atoms  suffer  pressure  and  impact,  unite  in  groups, 
and  break  away  from  such  unions  ;  and  thus  arises 
all  change,  the  succession  of  all  events  :  the  birth 
and  destruction  alike  of  particular  things  and  of 
the  infinite  worlds  are  but  moments  in  this 
succession. 

(b)  Cosmogony. — The  direct  outcome  of  Atomic 
motion  must  be  the  production  of  our  world  and 
of  all  the  individual  things  in  it,  for  these  are 
given  in  experience.  As  to  the  process  by  which 
this  goal  is  reached,  our  information  is  sadly 
defective.  Of  one  thing  we  are  certain — that 
Leucippus  and  Democritus  had  no  recourse  to 
external  forces,  such  as  the  attraction  and  repulsion 
which  Empedocles  personified  as  Love  and  Strife, 
or  the  vols  of  Anaxagoras.  A  late  epitomator 
writes  of  Leucippus  : 

4  The  worlds  arise  when  many  atoms  are  collected  together 
into  the  mighty  void  from  the  surrounding  space  and  rush 
together.  They  come  into  collision,  and  those  which  are  of 
similar  shape  and  like  form  become  entangled,  and  from  their 
entanglement  the  heavenly  bodies  arise '  (Hippol.  Ref.  i.  12 ; 
Diels,  54  A,  10  [i.2  345]).  Another  account  gives  fuller  details  : 
'  Many  atoms  of  manifold  shapes  cut  off  from  the  infinite  are 
borne  into  a  vast  void,  and  there  collecting  set  up  a  single 
vortex  movement,  in  which  they  collide  and  are  whirled  in  all 
directions,  so  that  separation  is  effected  and  the  like  atoms 
come  together.  And,  as  they  become  too  numerous  to  revolve 
with  equal  velocity,  those  which  are  light  are,  so  to  speak,  sifted 
out,  and  fly  off  towards  the  outer  void ;  and  the  rest  remain 
together,  and,  becoming  entangled,  join  their  orbits  with  one 
another,  and  form  in  the  firBt  place  a  spherical  mass.  This 
becomes  a  sort  of  shell,  including  in  itself  atoms  of  all  kinds; 
and,  as  these  through  repulsion  from  the  centre  are  made  to 
revolve,  the  enclosing  shell  becomes  thinner  and  thinner,  the 
adjacent  atoms  being  attracted  as  soon  as  the  vortex  overtakes 
them.  In  this  way  the  earth  was  formed  as  the  portions 
brought  to  the  centre  coalesced.  And,  again,  even  the  outer 
shell  grows  larger  by  the  influx  of  atoms  from  outside,  and 
incorporates  with  itself  whatever  it  touches.  And  of  this  some 
portions  are  locked  together  and  form  a  mass  which  was  at 
first  damp  and  miry,  then  dried  as  it  revolved  with  the  universal 
vortex,  and  afterwards  took  fire  and  formed  the  substance  of 
the  Btars '  (Diog.  Laert.  ix.  32  ;  Diels.  54  A,  1  [i.2  343]). 
In  this  effort  of  the  scientific  imagination  several 
vol.  iv. — 36 


points  deserve  notice.  The  doctrine  of  innumer- 
able worlds  or  cosmical  systems  becomes  clearer 
when  we  consider  that  matter  and  space  are 
supposed  to  be  infinite,  and  any  place  where  atoms 
meet  may  become  the  kernel  or  nucleus  of  a  world, 
provided  that  a  vortex  motion  is  thus  set  up,  and 
in  consequence  a  sufficient  aggregation  of  matter 
crystallizes,  so  to  speak,  around  a  centre.  As, 
moreover,  the  atoms  are  infinitely  various  in  shape, 
the  worlds  formed  from  them  will  display  the 
greatest  diversity  ;  though  it  may  also  happen  that 
some  of  them  are  absolutely  alike.  Again,  the 
principle  of  'like  to  like,'  common  to  most  of  the 
Greek  physicists,  receives  some  sort  of  explanation 
from  the  assumption  of  a  vortex.  As,  on  the 
beach,  pebbles  of  like  size  and  shape  are  collected 
by  the  tide,  as  the  winnowing-fan  sifts  and  separates 
grain  (Sext.  adv.  Math.  vii.  117;  Diels,  55  B,  164 
[i.2  415]),  so  the  cosmical  vortex  plays  the  same 
mechanical  part  in  bringing  together  homogeneous 
particles,  that  is,  atoms  approximately  alike  in 
size  and  shape.  Thus  Democritus  is  able  to  bring 
his  notion  of  our  world  into  tolerable  harmony 
with  popular  opinion.  It  floats  in  the  void, 
surrounded  by  its  revolving  shell  of  tightly 
compressed  atoms — the  vault  of  heaven  ;  the  space 
between  this  outer  envelope  at  the  circumference 
and  the  solid  earth  at  the  centre  is  filled  with  air 
in  which  the  stars  move.  The  earth  presents  a 
flat  surface  above  and  below,  round  horizontally 
like  a  quoit  or  tambourine,  and  so  broad  as  to 
support  itself  on  the  air. 

We  may  note  the  influence  of  Anaximander, 
with  whom  probably  originated  the  old  Ionian 
theory  of  infinite  worlds,  and  of  Anaxagoras  (q.v.), 
who  postulated  a  rotatory  movement  to  effect 
separation  of  unlike  and  aggregation  of  like. 
Democritus  can  hardly  be  credited  with  original 
contributions  to  astronomy  ;  but  he  welcomed  the 
novel  doctrines  of  Anaxagoras  which  had  so  startled 
his  contemporaries.  He  held  the  sun  to  be  a  red- 
hot  mass,  Dut  regarded  it  and  also  the  moon  as 
originally  the  nucleus  of  a  separate  system,  which 
had  been  entangled  in  the  vortex-motion  of  our 
world  and  subsequently  ignited.  The  oceans  were 
formed  when,  under  the  influence  of  wind  and  solar 
heat,  the  smaller  particles  were  forced  out  of  the 
earth,  and  ran  together  as  water  into  the  hollows. 
In  relative  size  the  central  earth  exceeds  the  sun, 
moon,  and  stars ;  yet  the  latter  must  have  been 
accorded  considerable  dimensions  if  Democritus 
accepted  the  Anaxagorean  assumption  of  plains, 
mountains,  and  ravines  upon  the  moon's  face  (Aet. 
ii.  25.  9  ;  Diels,  55  A,  90  [i.2  367]). 

This  cosmology  is  vitiated  through  and  through 
by  the  undue  importance  it  gives  to  our  planet. 
The  geocentric  hypothesis  still  retained  its  sway 
over  the  philosopher,  who  tells  us  : 

'There  are  infinite  worlds,  differing  in  size ;  and  in  some  of 
them  there  is  no  sun  and  moon,  in  others  the  sun  and  moon 
are  larger  than  in  our  world,  or  there  are  several  suns  and 
moons.  The  worlds  are  unequally  distributed  in  space ;  here 
there  are  more,  there  fewer ;  some  are  waxing,  some  are  in 
their  prime,  some  waning  ;  coming  into  being  in  one  part  of  the 
universe,  ceasing  in  another  part.  The  cause  of  their  perishing 
is  collision  with  one  another.  And  there  are  some  worlds 
destitute  of  moisture  and  of  living  creatures.  In  our  world 
the  earth  was  born  before  the  stars  ",  the  moon  is  nearest  to  the 
earth,  the  sun  comes  next,  fixed  stars  are  furthest  off.  The 
planets  themselves  are  at  unequal  distances  from  us.  A  world 
is  in  its  prime  so  long  as  it  is  able  to  absorb  fresh  matter  from 
without '  (Hippol.  Ref.  i.  13  ;  Diels,  65  A,  40  [i.2  360]). 

In  the  words  of  an  enthusiastic  admirer  (Gom- 
perz,  Griechische  Denker,  i.3  295),  we  seem  to  be 
listening  to  a  modern  astronomer  who  has  seen 
the  moons  of  Jupiter,  has  recognized  the  lack  of 
moisture  on  the  moon,  and  has  even  caught  a 
glimpse  of  nebulas. 

(c)  Psychology.  —  All  particular  things,  and 
amongst  them  the  four  so-called  elements — earth, 
water,  air,  fire — are  aggregates  or  atom-complexes ; 


562 


DEMOCRITUS 


and  their  character  is  determined  by  the  shape, 
order,  and  position  of  their  component  atoms. 
Atmospheric  air  plays  its  part,  but  the  most 
important  is  fire,  because  the  most  mobile,  being 
composed  of  atoms  exceedingly  fine,  smooth,  and 
round.  Fire-atoms  are  the  moving  principle  of 
organic  bodies,  the  soul  being  a  sort  of  fire  or 
heat,  while  mental  activity  is  identical  with  the 
motion  of  these  fiery  particles.  Upon  this  founda- 
tion is  constructed  a  materialistic  psychology, 
which  in  turn  determines  the  epistemology  and 
ethics  of  Democritus.  Such  a  doctrine  invites 
comparison  with  the  speculations  of  Heraclitus 
and  Anaxagoras,  the  former  of  whom  regarded 
soul  as  an  exhalation  fed  by  vapours  from  the 
warm  blood.  The  povs  of  Anaxagoras,  whether  by 
this  he  meant  simply  intelligence,  or  some  sort  of 
mind-stuff,  was  supposed  to  be  diffused  throughout 
the  universe ;  and  similarly  the  theory  of  Democritus 
tends  to  destroy  any  fixed  line  of  demarcation 
between  organic  and  inorganic  in  Nature.  For, 
according  to  him,  fiery  soul-atoms  are  taken  in 
from  outside.  Owing  to  their  great  mobility,  they 
are  constantly  liable  to  escape  from  the  animate 
body,  and  this  tendency  is  counteracted  by  the 
process  of  respiration,  which  checks  the  escape  of 
imprisoned  soul-atoms  by  a  current  of  air,  and 
continually  renews  them.  In  sleep  or  in  a  swoon 
there  is  less  resistance :  more  of  the  fiery  atoms 
escape,  and  mental  activity  is  proportionately 
diminished  ;  while  death  itself  is  the  result  of  their 
entire  dispersion  in  the  surrounding  air.  Since 
all  qualitative  change  in  things  is  reduced  to,  and 
explained  by,  quantitative  changes  of  atoms  and 
atomic  motions,  no  exception  can  be  made  in  deal- 
ing with  psychical  activities  and  the  phenomena 
of  mental  life.  Sensation,  thought,  and  all  other 
functions  of  the  soul  are  in  reality  movements  of 
the  soul-atoms,  produced  in  accordance  with  the 
mechanical  laws  of  pressure  and  impact.  This 
principle  is  rigorously  carried  out,  and  its  consistent 
application  is  a  characteristic  feature  of  Atomistic 
psychology.  It  is  most  obvious  in  the  theory  of 
sensation,  which  Democritus  in  part  inherited 
from  Empedocles.  Contact  between  object  per- 
ceived and  percipient  is  the  indispensable  condition 
of  all  perception,  so  that  all  the  various  senses  are 
in  the  last  resort  modes  of  one — viz.  touch  (Ar.  de 
Sennit,  iv.  442a,  29). 

When,  as  in  the  case  of  sight,  hearing,  and 
smell,  the  perceptible  object  is  at  a  distance, 
Democritus,  like  Empedocles,  supposed  that 
particles  of  external  things  found  their  way  into 
the  pores  of  the  sensory  organs.  It  is  true  that, 
according  to  Empedocles,  the  pores  or  passages 
through  which  the  particles  travelled  were  never 
absolutely  empty,  for,  on  his  view,  the  universe 
was  a  plenum  j  whereas  Democritus  supposed  the 
particles  thrown  oft' to  move,  like  all  atoms,  through 
empty  space ;  but  this  hardly  aft'ects  the  general 
likeness  between  the  two  theories.  The  introduc- 
tion of  atoms  in  certain  ways,  through  the  organs, 
to  the  soul  answers  to  the  introduction  of  effluxes 
(airoppoat)  through  the  pores,  which  Empedocles 
maintained.  The  atom-complexes  thus  given  off 
resemble  the  external  objects  themselves.  Demo- 
critus called  them  SeiteXa — an  Ionic  term  for  which 
Aristotle  substituted  eidaXa.  What  we  perceive, 
then,  is  in  a  manner  in  the  soul ;  but  the  soul  itself 
must  consist  of  matter  capable  of  being  affected 
mechanically  by  it,  that  is,  capable  of  the  impact, 
reaction,  movement,  iWoiwcns,  which  is  the  essence 
of  perception. 

The  sensory  organs  thus  become  passages  for 
Lnstreaming  atoms.  Take  vision.  The  eye  is  a 
moist  porous  organ — seeing  results  when  the 
image  of  an  object  is  mirrored  in  the  pupil.  So 
much  we  are  told  on  excellent  authority  ;  but  how 


it  comes  about  that  the  pupil  receives,  or,  if  it  is  a 
mirror,  reflects,  this  image,  is  a  point  on  which 
neither  the  criticisms  of  Aristotle  and  Theophrastus 
nor  the  later  accounts  of  Aetius  and  Alexander 
Aphrodisiensis  throw  much  light.  In  fact,  it 
remains  doubtful  whether  the  efficient  cause  is  the 
emanation  from  the  visible  object  or  the  air  which 
has  received  a  certain  impression,  comparable  to 
that  of  a  seal  upon  wax,  from  this  emanation.  The 
suggestion  that  in  seeing  nearer  objects  the  former, 
in  seeing  distant  objects  the  latter,  is  the  proximate 
agent,  although  ingenious,  lacks  all  authority. 
Colour,  the  proper  object  of  vision,  as  explained 
above,  is  not  a  primary  quality  of  bodies,  but 
is  relative  to  the  percipient.  The  visible  thing  is 
composed  of  colourless  atoms  of  given  shape 
arranged  in  a  certain  order  and  position,  and,  when 
it  is  said  to  have  colour  in  virtue  of  its  atomic 
structure  and  the  movements  of  its  atoms,  this 
really  means  that  it  is  capable  of  exciting  a 
particular  effect  in  the  sensory  organ — the  eye. 
Democritus  assumed  four  primary  colours — white, 
black,  red,  and  green  (xXoipSv) — and  derived  all 
other  shades  of  colour  from  the  mixture  of  the 
primary  four  in  definite  proportions.  From  this  it 
follows  that  the  numerous  bodies  which  cannot  be 
classed  as  having  one  or  other  of  the  primary 
colours  must  be  of  a  composite  nature  ;  they  must, 
that  is,  include  in  their  composition  other  than 
merely  homogeneous  atoms.  Thus,  referring 
white  to  smooth  and  red  to  round  atoms,  he  must 
have  assumed,  in  the  structure  of  gold  and  bronze, 
the  presence  both  of  smooth  and  of  round  atoms, 
since  he  declared  the  colour  of  these  metals  to  be 
a  mixture  of  white  and  red.  This  theory  of  colour 
seems  to  have  been  carefully  elaborated,  to  judge 
by  the  summary  and  criticisms  of  Theophrastus 
{de  Sensu,  49  ff. ).  The  crudeness  of  his  assumptions 
is  obvious :  whiteness  is  supposed  to  be  due  to 
smooth,  blackness  to  rough  atoms,  redness  is 
caused  by  heat,  and  the  atoms  of  fire  are  supposed 
to  be  spherical. 

In  the  treatment  of  hearing  and  its  correlative 
object,  sound,  of  which  speech  or  vocal  sound  is  the 
leading  type,  Democritus  agreed  in  the  main  with 
his  contemporaries.  As  emanations  (SekeAa)  from 
visible  bodies  are  the  stimulus  of  vision,  so  the 
sounds  (<poivaL)  which  stimulate  the  organ  of  hearing 
are  particles  or  atom-complexes  thrown  oft'  by  the 
sonant  body,  and  conveyed  by  the  medium  of  the 
air  to  the  ear,  and  through  it  to  the  soul.  The 
stream  of  atoms  given  off  by  a  sonant  body  sets  the 
atoms  of  the  air  in  motion,  and,  joining  itself  with 
these  according  to  similarity  of  shapes  and  sizes, 
makes  its  way  into  the  body.  The  orifice  of  the 
ear  is  the  chief,  but  not  the  sole,  entrance  for  such 
a  current.  In  making  the  current  affect  not  the 
ear  alone,  but  other  organs  of  the  body,  Democritus 
showed  decided  originality.  He  may  have  meant 
no  more  than  that  the  whole  body  is  sympathetic 
to  the  operation  of  hearing.  Probably  the  purity 
of  sounds  was  made  to  depend  on  the  similarity, 
the  pitch  and  volume  on  the  magnitude,  of  their 
constituent  atoms.  The  process  by  which  the 
sound -atoms  themselves  and  the  air  broken  up  by 
them  are,  as  it  were,  sorted  so  that  similar  shapes 
and  sizes  come  together  must  be  understood  as 
purely  mechanical. 

If  a  theory  of  emanations  from  bodies  at  a 
distance  be  employed  to  explain  seeing  and  hear- 
ing, no  difficulty  will  be  encountered  in  applying  it 
to  the  sense  of  smelling.  The  rapid  diffusion  of 
perfume  is  a  familiar  fact,  and  it  is  easily  inferred 
that  a  finer  matter  is  given  off  by  odorous  bodies 
in  the  form  of  an  attenuated  stream  of  atoms, 
which  reaches  the  nostrils.  Theophrastus  com- 
plains of  the  omission  to  connect  a  distinctive 
quality  of    the   various  odours  with  the  atomic 


DBMOCRITUS 


563 


configuration  of  their  particles ;  but  Demoeritus 
probably  regarded  this  connexion  as  easily  de- 
ducible  from  the  similar  connexion  between  atomic 
configuration  and  distinctive  quality  in  the  kin- 
dred region  of  tastes,  with  which  he  dealt  very 
fully.  Thus,  he  referred  an  acid  taste  to  atomic 
shapes  which  are  angular,  winding,  small,  and 
thin  ;  the  sweet  to  shapes  which  are  spherical  and 
not  too  small ;  the  astringent  to  shapes  large  and 
with  many  angles.  The  bitter  is  composed  of 
shapes,  small,  smooth,  and  spherical,  with  hooks 
attached  to  the  spherical  surface  ;  the  saline  of 
large  shapes,  in  many  cases  not  spherical,  but  in 
some  cases  also  not  scalene,  and  therefore  without 
many  flexures  ;  the  pungent  is  small,  spherical,  and 
angular,  but  not  scalene. 

With  this  the  theory  of  sensation  is  complete. 
All  senses  have  been  resolved  into  modes  of  touch, 
which  must,  therefore,  have  been  for  Demoeritus 
the  primary  sense,  as  it  was  for  Aristotle.  But  of 
touch  itself  as  a  physiological  function  he  could 
give  no  detailed  investigation.  Pressure,  impact, 
and  motion — purely  physical  conceptions — are  em- 
ployed by  the  Atomists  without  misgiving,  as  if 
they  had  not  realized  the  true  nature  of  the 
physiological  process.  The  relations  between 
realities  of  every  kind  were  reducible  to  the  purely 
mechanical  form.  The  interaction  involved  in 
sense-perception  could  not  differ  from  the  action  of 
any  atomic  bodies  whatsoever  upon  one  another, 
for  this  contact  is  the  necessary  and  universal 
condition,  and  contact  between  percipiens  and  per- 
cipiendum  only  a  special  case.  Sensation  itself  is 
the  movement  set  up  when  spherical  soul-atoms 
have  thus  been  brought  into  contact  with  the 
atoms  of  an  external  object,  or  the  atom-complexes 
(SeixeAa)  emanating  from  them.  On  this  theory, 
then,  sensory  facts  have  nothing  to  distinguish 
them  from  the  larger  total  of  physical  facts ;  nor 
can  there  be  a  fundamental  difference  between 
sensation  and  intellect.  Aristotle  expressly  testifies 
that  Demoeritus  made  no  such  distinction  (rairrb 
Xe^yei  ^i/xV  *a!  vovv  [de  Anima,  i.  2.  404a,  28,  31 ; 
cf.  405a,  9]).  There  is  no  evidence  that  he  put  to 
himself  Aristotle's  question,  What  is  the  faculty 
by  which  the  data  of  sense  are  combined  and  dis- 
tinguished, by  which  we  are  conscious  of  our  mental 
acts,  by  which  we  imagine  and  remember  ?  All  our 
information  is  that,  while  the  soul-atoms  were 
divided  or  distributed  over  the  entire  body,  he 
located  certain  mental  functions  in  certain  parts 
of  the  frame ;  e.g.  the  separate  sensations  in  the 
sensory  organs,  and,  further,  according  to  some 
doubtful  authorities,  intelligence  in  the  brain,  anger 
in  the  heart,  appetite  in  the  liver.  Such  statements 
are  not  in  themselves  incredible,  on  the  assumption 
that,  in  different  parts  of  the  body,  soul-atoms  of 
distinctive  size  and  mobility  are  apt  to  be  associated 
and  massed  together  ;  but  the  partial  anticipation 
of  Plato's  tripartite  division  of  soul  is  open  to  sus- 
picion, and  on  such  points  Aetius  and  pseudo- 
Hippocratean  writers  of  the  2nd  cent,  are  not  to  be 
trusted. 

What,  then,  is  thought,  and  how  does  thinking 
come  about  ?  It  must  be  analogous  to  sensation  in 
so  far  as  it  is  a  movement  of  soul-atoms  stimulated 
by  an  external  cause  ;  the  latter  is  not  far  to  seek, 
when  we  reflect  on  the  familiar  fact  of  the  similarity 
between  a  sensation  and  the  corresponding  idea. 
Emanations  from  external  objects  (ei'SoiXa  Qudev 
Tpo<n6i>Ta)  must  then  be  postulated  for  the  latter  as 
for  the  former.  The  same  causes  acting  upon  soul- 
atoms  in  the  same  mechanical  fashion  accounted 
for  dreams,  visions,  and  hallucinations.  So  far 
from  rejecting  these  mental  processes  as  illusory, 
Demoeritus  seems  to  have  based  upon  them  some 
sort  of  divination  or  mantic.  The  emanations 
which   excite  these  abnormal  processes   must  be 


supposed  to  be  of  a   finer  texture  than  those  of 
ordinary  sensation  or  thought. 

(d)  Epistemology. — What,  then,  is  the  relation 
between  sensation  and  thought — in  other  words, 
what  contributions  does  Demoeritus  make  to  the 
theory  of  knowledge  1  The  locus  classicus  is  a 
passage  preserved  by  Sextus  (adv.  Math.  vii.  138  ; 
Diels,  55  B,  11  [i.2  389]).  It  was  taken  from  a  work 
entitled  '  The  Canon,'  which  presumably  discussed 
the  process  of  inference  from  the  known  to  the 
unknown,  and  laid  down  rules  for  induction.  The 
passage  runs  as  follows  : 

'There  are  two  forms  of  knowledge,  the  genuine  and  the 
obscure.  To  the  obscure  belong  all  these  :  sight,  hearing,  taste, 
smell,  touch  ;  the  other  form,  genuine  knowledge,  is  altogether 
distinct  from  this.  ..."  'In  what  follows,'  says  Sextus,  '  De- 
moeritus ranks  the  genuine  form  above  the  obscure,  and  adds 
[to  follow  the  restoration  of  the  text  by  Diels] :  "  When  the 
object  becomes  too  minute  for  the  obscure  form  of  knowledge 
to  see,  or  hear,  or  taste,  or  smell,  or  touch  it,  when  greater  pre- 
cision is  required,  then  the  genuine  knowledge  comes  into  play, 
aa  the  possessor  of  a  more  precise  organ  of  discrimination." ' 

This  means  that  thought  can  reach  that  which  is 
inaccessible  to  sense.  The  Atomic  theory,  as  it 
shaped  itself  in  the  mind  of  the  philosopher,  is  a 
proof,  for  neither  the  atom  nor  space  is  sensibly 
perceived.  Moreover,  the  geometrical  forms  and 
the  whole  of  geometrical  science,  to  which  Demo- 
eritus gave  as  loyal  a  support  as  Plato  himself, 
being  inseparable  from  space,  have  the  same  rational 
origin.  It  is  true  that  he  made  no  fruitful  applica- 
tion of  geometry  to  physical  research,  but  the  same 
may  be  said  of  the  Pythagoreans,  of  Plato,  and  of 
all  who  preceded  Galileo.  Further,  it  is  easy  to 
see  why  the  Atomists  preferred  thought  to  sense, 
though  both  have  essentially  the  same  object — cor- 
poreal things  and  material  processes,  atoms  and 
atomic  movements.  Thought  was  to  them  mental 
intuition,  an  affection  which  registers,  so  to  speak, 
more  delicate  movements  due  to  complexes  of 
minuter  atoms.  The  senses  do  not  extend  far 
enough ;  the  mental  vision  descries  the  atom,  but 
the  bodily  eye  cannot.  The  senses,  being  unaffected 
by  the  finer  atomic  movements,  desert  us  at  the 
point  where  the  minutest  bodies  and  the  most 
delicate  processes  require  investigation. 

(e)  Ethics  and  religion. — The  scanty  fragments 
which  have  come  down  to  us  under  the  name  of 
Demoeritus  include  a  mass  of  moral  reflexions. 
Much  of  it  is  undoubtedly  spurious,  and  the  task 
of  sifting  the  grain  from  the  chaff  has  not  yet  been 
accomplished  with  success.  Though  little  of  scien- 
tific value  has  been  preserved,  the  outlines  of  a 
definite  view  of  life  stand  out  clearly.  In  form 
these  utterances  bear  the  stamp  of  the  scattered 
moral  reflexions  attributed  to  Heraclitus  and  the 
Pythagoreans,  the  single  exception  known  to  us 
being  the  treatise  irepl  Evdv/il-ris,  which  made  some 
advance  to  a  definition  of  the  ethical  end.  The 
treatise  apparently  opened  with  a  description  of  the 
miserable  condition  of  the  majority  of  mankind, 
distracted  by  inordinate  desire  and  superstitious 
terror,  vainly  striving  for  a  multitude  of  objects 
without  finding  in  any  of  them  permanent  satisfac- 
tion. As  the  goal  of  moral  endeavour,  Demoeritus 
proposed  what  he  himself  called  tranquillity  or 
cheerfulness  (evSv/xlri)  and  well-being  (eiW™).  Such 
composure  or  peace  of  mind  he  compared  to  an 
unruffled  calm  at  sea  (ya\rivri).  Other  terms  for 
this  ethical  end  occur  in  the  fragments,  such  as 
a6a/A@La,  arapaZla,  adaviiaela,  apfj.ot/ta,  |u/i^terpfa  ;  but 
it  is  not  certain  whether  they  were  ever  used  by 
Demoeritus  himself.  His  main  tenet,  repeatedly 
enforced  in  a  variety  of  ways,  is  that  true  happi- 
ness, this  inestimable  tranquillity,  does  not  depend 
on  anything  external,  on  wealth  or  goods  of  the 
body,  but  on  uprightness  and  intelligence.  Modera- 
tion and  contentment,  purity  of  deed  and  thought, 
are  its  distinctive  marks  ;  education  is  the  best 
means  to  it. 


>iS4 


DEMOCRITUS 


The  question  arises  whether  this  ethical  teaching  (of  which, 
after  all,  we  know  so  little)  is  intimately  connected  with  the 
physical  doctrines  of  the  Atomists,  so  as  to  form  part  of  one 
system.  On  this  opinions  are  divided.  Some  deny  all  con- 
nexion, and  are  inclined  to  regard  Democritus,  not  as  the 
systematizer,  bat  as  the  eager  inquirer,  who  disperses  his  energy 
over  a  multitude  of  subjects,  and  lays  the  foundation  of  separate 
unrelated  sciences.  Again,  it  has  been  suggested  that  the  con- 
templation of  an  infinite  universe  impressed  Democritus  with  a 
just  sense  of  the  pettiness  of  man  and  the  futility  of  the  ends 
which  ordinary  men  pursue.  But  this  conjecture  is  just  as  im- 
probable as  the  popular  conception  of  him  as  the  '  laughing 
philosopher,'  provoked  to  merriment  by  the  incongruity  of  all 
around  him.  Others,  taking  the  distinction  between  genuine 
and  obscure  knowledge  as  their  text,  draw  a  parallel  between 
the  preference  of  thought  over  sensation,  and  the  similar  prefer- 
ence of  tranquillity  over  violent  and  exciting  pleasure.  As 
sensations  are  atomic  movements,  so  also  are  feelings,  whether 
pleasurable  or  painful,  and  desires.  Aristippus  had  called 
pleasure  a  smooth,  and  pain  a  rough  or  violent  motion.  To 
Democritus  the  distinction  is  not  so  much  qualitative  as  quanti- 
tative ;  it  is  in  minute  and  delicate  movements  of  the  finest 
matter,  which  are  imperceptible  to  sense,  that  thought  and  the 
joys  of  thought  consist. 

The  views  of  Democritus  about  religion  are  very 
imperfectly  known.  A  fortunate  accident  has 
preserved  in  the  pages  of  Sextus  Empiricus  (ado. 
Math.  ix.  19  ;  Diels,  55  B,  166  [i.2  415])  his  curious 
belief  in  superhuman  beings,  and  from  other  sources 
he  is  known  to  have  maintained  the  possibility  of 
divination  from  dreams  and  from  the  inspection  of 
the  liver  and  other  organs  of  the  sacrificial  victim. 
There  is  nothing  in  these  beliefs  which  is  not  in 
harmony  with  the  principles  of  atomistic  physics, 
although  development  in  this  direction  is  at  first 
sight  somewhat  startling.  To  take  divination  by 
victims  first.  According  to  Cicero  (de  Divin.  i.  57 
[131]),  the  changes  to  be  foretold  by  an  inspection  of 
the  entrails  were  such  as  affected  public  health  or 
the  prospect  of  the  harvest.  The  limitation  to  such 
cases  proves  that  the  symptoms  examined  ami 
reported  upon  were  such  as  were  due,  in  the 
belief  of  Democritus,  to  natural  causes.  Dreams, 
whether  of  the  ordinary  or  of  the  prophetic  kind, 
were,  on  the  atomistic  hypothesis,  due  to  images 
or  etSwKa  presented  in  sleep.  Emanations  from  all 
possible  objects  Hit  about  continually ;  amongst 
them  there  may  be  some  which  reflect  the  mental 
condition  or  even  the  opinions  and  designs  of  other 
men.  Information  then  obtained  in  dreams  of 
this  sort  is  a  matter  of  inference,  just  as  when  in 
waking  hours  the  condition  and  intentions  of  others 
are  inferred  from  their  looks.  The  data,  however, 
are  less  trustworthy,  and  hence  the  interpretation 
of  dreams  is  often  erroneous.  Emanations,  it  will 
be  seen,  can  thus  be  satisfactorily  employed  to 
explain  what  is  unusual  and  abnormal. 

As  to  the  popular  theology,  it  could  not  be 
accepted  by  any  of  the  early  Greek  thinkers,  least 
of  all  by  Democritus.  The  interference  of  Homer's 
deities  in  the  course  of  natural  events  was  utterly 
at  variance  with  speculations  which,  if  they  agreed 
in  nothing  else,  all  tended  to  establish  the  reign  of 
law  and  the  inevitable  sequence  of  phenomena.  If 
nothing  exists  but  atoms  moving  in  void,  if  every 
event  is  inexorably  determined  by  natural  neces- 
sity, Divine  agency  and  design  in  Nature  are  alike 
excluded.  Democritus  was  true  to  this  principle, 
and  incurred  the  censure  of  Aristotle  because  he 
refused  to  see  in  the  beauty  and  order  of  the  uni- 
verse, and  more  especially  in  the  adaptation  of 
means  to  ends  in  the  structure  of  animals  and  plants, 
any  evidence  of  design.  It  remains,  however,  for 
the  philosopher  to  explain  how  the  belief  in  gods 
arose.  Democritus  in  part  ascribed  it  to  man's 
terror  at  the  awe-inspiring  phenomena  of  Nature 
— thunder  and  lightning,  eclipses  of  the  sun  and 
moon,  comets,  earthquakes,  and  the  like.  In  the 
popular  belief  the  gods  were  certainly  regarded  as 
the  causes  of  natural  phenomena,  and,  so  far,  as 
personifying  natural  forces.  But  this  was  not  all  ; 
in  part  the  faith  of  the  multitude  rested  on  actual 
evidence  of  sense,  observations  which  there  was  no 


reason  to  doubt,  even  if  they  had  been  misunder- 
stood. To  meet  this  case,  Democritus  introduced 
as  a  vera  causa  beings  differently  constituted  and 
in  some  respects  superior  to  man.  He  may  have 
been  prompted  by  the  common  Greek  notion  of 
daemons  (dal/toves),  found,  e.g.,  in  Hesiod,  as  some- 
thing intermediate  between  men  and  gods ;  or  it 
might  even  be  said  that  he  degraded  the  gods  to 
the  rank  of  daemons.  He  assumed,  at  all  events, 
that  there  are  in  the  surrounding  atmosphere 
beings  who  are  similar  to  man  in  form,  but  surpass 
him  in  size,  strength,  and  longevity.  Streams  of 
atoms  would  emanate  from  them  as  from  all  other 
external  objects,  and,  coming  in  contact  with  the 
sensory  organs,  might  render  these  beings  visible 
and  audible  to  men.  The  popular  belief  in  their 
divinity  and  immortality  was  a  gratuitous  assump- 
tion ;  in  truth,  they  are  not  indestructible,  but 
merely  slower  to  perish  than  man.  Of  these  beings 
and  their  images  there  were  two  species — one  kindly 
and  beneficent,  the  other  destructive  and  harmful. 
Hence  Democritus  is  said  to  have  prayed  that  he 
might  meet  with  such  images  as  were  kindly  and 
beneficent. 

The  atomistic  doctrine  which,  as  mentioned 
above,  supposed  an  entire  dispersion  of  soul-atoms 
to  take  place  at  death,  left  no  ground  for  inferring 
the  survival  of  individual  existence.  The  instinctive 
fear  of  death  is  once  or  twice  referred  to  in  the  frag- 
ments, and  generally  as  something  unreasonable. 
With  the  interest  of  a  modern  man  of  science, 
Democritus  appears  to  have  investigated  cases  of 
resuscitation  of  persons  apparently  dead,  and  to 
have  decided  that,  however  violent  the  injury 
received,  life  during  the  swoon  or  trance  cannot 
have  been  altogether  extinct  (Procl.  in  Remp.  ii. 
113,  6  [Kroll] ;  Diels,  55  B,  1  [i.2384]).  We  have  no 
evidence  that  he  or  any  of  his  school  were  active  in 
denouncing  and  opposing  superstition.  One  of  his 
works  bears  the  title  Ilepl  t£x  (v  "AiSou,  but  the  sole 
reference  extant  to  belief  in  a  future  life  is  the 
passing  allusion : 

'  Some  men  do  not  understand  that  a  mortal  nature  is  subject 
to  dissolution,  and,  being  conscious  of  the  evil  in  life,  painfully 
spend  all  their  days  in  troubles  and  fears,  inventing  lies  about 
the  time  after  death.' 

4.  Historical  importance.— The  doctrine  here 
presented  in  outline  was  never  popular  in  antiquity, 
or  rather  it  may  be  said  to  have  fallen  into  dis- 
repute. This  was  due  in  part  to  the  fact  that 
Democritus  avoided  dialectical  discussions,  so 
dear  to  the  Greeks  from  the  time  of  the  Sophists. 
Yet  Aristotle,  his  keenest  critic,  praised  him  for 
his  empirical  method  of  research,  and  agreed 
that  it  was  better  to  deal  with  things  in  the  con- 
crete (<pvnK&s  Zirreiv)  than  to  reason  from  vague 
abstract  premisses  to  conclusions  which  did  not 
exactly  fit  the  facts  of  the  case  (A071/CWS  ^riTetv). 
The  great  prominence  given  after  the  time  of 
Socrates  to  ethics  and  the  practical  side  of  life  was 
another  reason  why  Atomism  failed  to  attract 
public  attention.  Few  names  of  adherents  have 
come  down  to  us,  hardly  enough  to  be  called  a 
school.  Epicurus  ( q.v. )  absorbed  in  his  own  system 
what  he  thought  fit,  leaving  one  fundamental  doc- 
trine— that  of  natural  necessity — to  his  rivals,  the 
Stoics.  Here  the  genuine  doctrine  of  Democritus 
vanishes,  or  re-appears  only  in  those  criticisms  of 
Aristotle's  which,  as  Lasswitz  has  shown,  formed, 
to  some  of  the  keener  intellects  among  the  school- 
men, a  rallying-point  from  which  to  question  or 
even  ultimately  to  undermine  the  authority  of  the 
Stagirite.  The  loss  of  Democritus'  writings  was, 
in  Bacon's  opinion,  the  greatest  which  antiquity 
had  sustained ;  and,  after  Galileo's  experiments 
had  opened  a  new  era  in  physical  research,  this 
appreciation  of  empirical  methods  was  triumphantly 
vindicated. 

The  chief  service  which  Democritus  rendered  to 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Introductory) 


566 


philosophy  lay  in  the  rigid  consistency  with  which 
lie  worked  out  his  crude  Materialism.  His  merits 
in  this  respect  are  best  seen  by  comparison  with 
the  Ionian  hylozoists  who  preceded,  and  the  Stoic 
pantheists  who  followed,  him.  So  long  as  material 
reality  is  endowed  with  sentience  or  reason,  the 
problem  of  Materialism  is  not  adequately  conceived, 
nor  are  its  difficulties  properly  faced.  The  Atomists 
saw  clearly  what  they  had  to  do,  namely,  to  show 
how  out  of  matter,  which  is  neither  sentient  nor 
intelligent,  but  merely  obeys  mechanical  laws,  it  is 
possible  to  derive  organic  bodies  which  both  feel 
and  think.  The  difficulty  of  the  task  was  not 
removed  by  this  clear  conception  of  its  nature. 
There  is  a  gap  in  the  deduction,  which  no  ingenuity 
can  bridge  over.  The  formation  of  an  image  on 
the  pupil  and  the  visual  sensation  contemporaneous 
with  it  remain  wholly  distinct :  the  physics  of 
Democritus  may  explain  the  first,  but  not  the 
second.  Ever  so  correct  a  theory  of  the  mechanism 
of  local  movements  in  the  animal  still  leaves  the 
phenomena  of  purpose  and  volition  as  mysterious 
as  ever,  as  Aristotle  pointed  out.  The  resolu- 
tion of  secondary  qualities,  as  they  are  called— 
colour,  sound,  temperature,  odour,  etc. — into  effects 
of  atomic  movements  on  the  percipient  was  a  great 
step  in  advance  ;  but  Democritus  did  not  realize  all 
its  consequences.  Modern  psychology  has  shown 
that  the  same  analysis  can  be  applied  to  primary 


qualities,  and  the  seeming  solid  bodies  of  the 
Atomists'  external  world  replaced  by  groups  of 
tactile  sensations;  while,  further,  it  asserts  that 
these  states  of  consciousness  are  our  primary  data 
of  immediate  reality.  Thus  Materialism,  if  worked 
out  consistently,  is  apt  to  lead  out  of  itself  to 
Phenomenalism  or  Subjective  Idealism,  or  in  some 
other  direction. 

Literature. — H.  Diels,  Fragm.  der  Vorsokratiker,  Berlin, 
1903,  p.  64  f.  [i.2  (Berlin,  1900)  342-450];  F.  G.  A.  Mullach, 
Frag.  Philos.  Grcecor.,  Paris,  1S60-81;  F.  A.  Langre,  Gesch.  des 
Materialismus  3,  Iserlohn,  1S77  (Eng.  tr.  by  E.  C.  Thomas,  Hist, 
of  Materialism  and  Criticism  of  its  Present  Importance,  Lon- 
don, 1877-81) ;  K.  Lasswitz,  Gesch.  der  Atomistik  vom  Mittel- 
alter  bis  Newton,  Hainburgand  Leipzig,  1890  ;  E.  Johnson,  Der 
Sensualismus  des  Bern,  und  seiner  Vorganger,  Plauen,  1868 ; 
Lortzing,  Ueber  die  ethischen  Fragmente  Demokrits,  Berlin, 
1S73  ;  A.  Brieger,  Die  Urbewegung  der  Atome  u.  d.  Weltentsteh. 
bei  Leuc.  u.  Bern.,  Halle,  1874  ;  R.  Hirzel,  Untersuchungen  zu 
Cicero's  philos.  Schriften,  i.  141-152,  Leipzig,  1877 ;  E.  Rohde, 
'  Nochmala  Leuc.  u.  Dem.,'  Jahrb.  f.  Philol.  u.  Pad.  cxxiii. 
(1881);  M.  Berthelot,  'Des  Originesde  l'alchemieetdesosuvrea 
attributes  a  Dem.  d'Abd.,'  Journ.  des  Sacants,  Sept.  1884  ;  P. 
Natorp,  '  Demokrit,'  Forschungen  zur  Gesch.  des  Erkenntniss- 
problems  im  Alterth.,  Berlin,  1SS4,  pp.  164-208,  also  Ethika  des 
Demokritos,  Marburg,  1893 ;  H.  C.  Liepmann,  Mechanik  der 
Leucipp-Democrit.  Atome,  Leipzig,  1886 ;  W.  Windelband, 
Gesch.  der  Philos.  im  Alterthum,  Nordlingen,  1S88;  E.  Zeller, 
Philos.  der  Griechen*,  i.,  Leipzig,  1892  (Eng.  tr.  [of  4th  ed.]  by 
S.  F.  Alleyne  under  title  Zeller's  Pre-Socratic  Philosophy,  Lon- 
don, 18S1)  ;  T.  Gomperz,  Gr.  Denker,  i.,  Leipzig,  1896  (Eng.  tr. 
by  L.  Magnus,  Gr.  Thinkers,  London,  1901)  ;  A.  Dyroff,  Demo- 
kritstudien,  Leipzig,  1899 ;  J.  I.  Beare,  Gr.  Theories  of  Ele- 
mentary Cognition,  Oxford,  1906.  R.  J)t  HlCKS. 


DEMONS    AND    SPIRITS. 


Introductory  (L.  H.  Gray),  p.  565. 

Assyro-Babylonian  (R.  C.  Thompson),  p.  568. 

Buddhist  (L.  A.  Waddell),  p.  571. 

Celtic  (E.  Anwyl),  p.  572. 

Chinese  (P.  J.  Maclagan),  p.  576. 

Christian  (H.  L.  PASS),  p.  578. 

Coptic  (H.  R.  Hall),  p.  584. 

Egyptian  (G.  Foucart),  p.  584. 

Greek  (A.  C.  Pearson),  p.  590. 

Hebrew  (G.  A.  Barton),  p.  594. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Introductory; 
African  and  Oceanian).  —  Although  a  rough  dis- 
tinction may  be  drawn  between  demons  and  spirits 
by  considering  the  former  as  malevolent  ana  the 
latter  as  benevolent,  actual  study  of  the  subject 
soon  shows  that  there  is,  to  the  primitive  mind,  no 
clear  line  of  demarcation  between  the  two  allied 
classes.  Their  modes  of  operation  are  identical, 
and  the  same  being  may  often  be  either  beneficent 
or  maleficent,  as  circumstances  may  dictate,  though 
some  are  normally  kindly  disposed  towards  man, 
while  others  are  almost  or  quite  invariably  hostile 
to  him.  The  very  terms  '  spirit '  and  '  demon '  are 
colourless.  The  former  word  signifies  simply 
'breathing,'  'breath'  (see  artt.  Breath,  Spirit), 
while  the  latter  (Sal/tun)  originally  denoted  either 
'  apportioner '  or,  less '  probably,  'apportionment,' 
'  destiny,' being  connected  with  Gr.  Saiop.at,  'divide,' 
'apportion,'  and  Eng.  time  (Boisacq,  Diet,  itymol. 
de  la  langue  greeque,  Heidelberg,  1907  ff.,  p.  162; 
cf.  also  Aryan  Religion,  vol.  ii.  p.  54").  The 
term  '  demon '  has,  moreover,  suffered  a  complete 
transformation  of  meaning  in  malam  partem,  for 
originally,  as  will  be  clear  from  the  '  Greek '  section 
of  this  art.,  it  had  a  good  connotation,  which  was 
changed  into  an  evil  one  when  Christianity  con- 
demned the  deities  and  spirits  of  paganism  (see, 
further,  '  Christian '  section  below) — a  change  quite 
analogous  to  that  by  which  the  Avesta  daeva, 
'  demon,'  is  the  precise  etymological  equivalent  of 
the  Skr.  deva,  '  god.' 

Again,  both  demons  and  spirits — to  retain  for  the 
nonce  their  somewhat  artificial  contrast — must  be 
carefully  distinguished  from  souls  or  ghosts  (cf.  artt. 


Indian  (W.  CROOKE),  p.  601. 

Jain  (H.  Jacobi),  p.  608. 

Japanese  (A.  Lloyd),  p.  608. 

Jewish  (H.  Loewe),  p.  612. 

Muslim  (M.  Gaudefroy-Demombynes),  p.  615. 

Persian  (A.  V.  W.  Jackson),  p.  619. 

Roman  (J.  S.  Reid),  p.  620. 

Slavic  (V.  J.  Mansikka),  p.  622. 

Teutonic  (E.  Mogk),  p.  630. 

Tibetan  (L.  A.  Waddell),  p.  635. 

Soul,  Ancestor-Worship,  and  the  'Egyptian' 
section  below).  This  comes  out  very  clearly  among 
the  Melanesians,1  with  whom 

'  it  is  most  important  to  distinguish  between  spirits  who  are 
beings  of  an  order  higher  than  mankind,  and  the  disembodied 
spirits  of  men,  which  have  become  in  the  vulgar  sense  of  the 
word  ghosts.  .  .  .  They  [the  Melanesians]  themselves  make  a 
clear  distinction  between  the  existing,  conscious,  powerful, 
disembodied  spirits  of  the  dead,  and  other  spiritual  beings  that 
have  never  been  men  at  all '  (Codrington,  Melanesians,  Oxford, 
1891,  p.  120  f.). 

The  vui,  or  spirit,  thus  contrasted  with  the  tindalo, 
or  ghost,  was  defined  as  follows  to  Codrington  by  a. 
native  of  the  Banks  Islands  : 

'  It  lives,  thinks,  has  more  intelligence  than  a  man  ;  knows 
things  which  are  secret  without  seeing ;  is  supernaturally 
powerful  with  mana ;  has  no  form  to  be  seen ;  has  no  soul, 
because  itself  is  like  a  soul ' ; 

and  in  Omba,  Lepers  Island,  the  definition  of  vui 
is  as  follows : 

'  Spirits  are  immortal ;  have  bodies,  but  invisible ;  are  like 
men,  but  do  not  eat  and  drink,  and  can  be  seen  only  by  the 
dead '  (Codrington,  123,  170). 

That,  despite  this  assignment  of  a  purely  spiritual 
nature  to  the  vui,  they  should  often  be  regarded 
practically  as  in  human  form,  and  even  as  some- 
times dimly  visible  (ib.  151  f.),  is  by  no  means  sur- 
prising when  we  remember  that  it  is  well-nigh 
impossible  for  man  at  any  stage  of  civilization  to 
escape  entirely  from  anthropomorphism  (q.v.). 

This  distinction  between  spirits  and  ghosts  is, 
however,  much  easier  to  make  in  theory  than  in 
practice,  and  Taylor's  words  regarding  the  New 
Zealanders  (Te  Ika  a  Maui-,  London,  1870,  p.  108) 

1  A  very  similar  distinction  may  be  found  in  Greek  between 
0ecu,  5ai>o"€s,  and  ijptoes,  the  two  latter  classes  corresponding 
respectively  to  the  Melanesian  vui  and  tindalo  (cf.  Uflener. 
Gottername.n,  Bonn,  18U0,  p.  248  f.). 


566 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Introductory) 


— '  Maori  gods  are  so  mixed  up  with  the  spirits  of 
ancestors,  whose  worship  entered  largely  into  their 
religion,  that  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  one  from 
the  other ' — may  be  applied  to  more  than  one  people 
(cf.  also,  for  Africa,  Schneider,  Belig.  der  afrikan. 
Naturvolker,  Munster,  1891,  p.  113). 

But,  if  demons  and  spirits  must  be  distinguished 
from  ghosts  or  souls,  an  equally  clear  line  must  be 
drawn  between  them  and  gods — although  it  is  true 
that  confusion  of  demons  and  spirits  with  gods  is 
frequent,  exactly  as  demons  and  spirits  are  often 
confounded  with  souls  or  ghosts.  There  is,  never- 
theless, this  difference  between  the  two  kinds  of 
confusion,  that,  whereas  demons  and  spirits  are, 
strictly  speaking,  distinct  from  souls  and  ghosts 
in  that  the  vui  '  were  never  men,  and  have  not  the 
bodily  nature  of  a  man'  (Codrington,  124),  the 
difference  between  demons  and  spirits  as  contrasted 
with  gods  appears  to  be  one  of  degree  rather  than 
of  kind,  so  that  demons  and  spirits  may  be,  and 
very  often  are,  elevated  to  the  rank  of  gods.  On 
this  point  Jevons  writes  as  follows  (Introd.  to 
the  Hist,  of  Religion?,  London,  1904,  pp.  173, 
175): 

'  For  the  savage,  supernatural  beings  are  divided  into  three 
classes — the  gods  of  his  own  tribe,  those  of  other  tribes,  and 
spirits  which,  unlike  the  first  two  classes,  have  never  obtained  a 
definite  circle  of  worshippers  to  offer  sacrifice  to  them  and  in 
return  receive  protection  from  them.  This  last  class,  never 
having  been  taken  into  alliance  by  any  clan,  have  never  been 
elevated  into  gods.  .  .  .  On  the  one  hand,  the  community 
originally  drew  its  god  from  the  ranks  of  the  innumerable 
spiritual  beings  by  which  primitive  man  was  surrounded  ;  and, 
on  the  other  band,  the  outlying,  unattached  spirits,  who  were 
not  at  first  taken  into  alliance,  and  so  raised  to  the  status  of 
gods,  may  ultimately  be  domesticated,  so  to  speak,  and  made 
regular  members  of  a  pantheon.' 

The  relations  of  demons  and  spirits  to  that  phase 
of  primitive  religion  properly  known  as  Animism 
(q.v.)  are  peculiarly  close,  so  that  Tylor  (i.8  426) 
declares  : 

*It  is  habitually  found  that  the  theory  of  Animism  divides 
into  two  great  dogmas,  forming  parts  of  one  consistent  doctrine  ; 
first,  concerning  souls  of  individual  creatures,  capable  of  con- 
tinued  existence  after  the  death  or  destruction  of  the  body  ; 
second,  concerning  other  spirits,  upward  to  the  rank  of  power- 
ful deities.' 

Whether,  however,  Animism  actually  furnishes,  as 
was  once  fondly  supposed,  a  complete  explanation 
of  the  origin  of  religion,  or  whether  it  was  even  the 
earliest  form  of  religion,  seems  open  to  grave 
doubts  (cf.  the  views  of  various  scholars  recorded 
by  Schmidt,  'L'Origine  de  l'idee  de  Dieu,'  in 
Anthropos,  iii.  [1908]) ;  and  the  theory  is  scarcely 
supported  in  Melanesia,  where  so  accurate  an 
observer  as  Codrington  can  say  (p.  123)  : 

'  There  does  not  appear  to  be  anywhere  in  Melanesia  a  belief 
in  a  spirit  which  animates  any  natural  object,  a  tree,  waterfall, 
storm,  or  rock,  so  as  to  be  to  it  what  the  soul  is  believed  to  be  to 
the  body  of  a  man.  Europeans,  it  is  true,  speak  of  the  spirits 
of  the  sea  or  of  the  storm  or  of  the  forest ;  but  the  native  idea 
which  they  represent  is  that  ghosts  haunt  the  sea  and  the  forest, 
having  power  to  raise  storms  and  to  strike  a  traveller  with 
disease,  or  that  supernatural  beings,  never  men,  do  the  same.' 

It  must  also  be  borne  in  mind  that,  while  spirits 
are  very  frequently  believed  to  inhabit  trees, 
rivers,  rocks,  and  the  like,  there  are  many  spirits 
to  which  no  such  specific  habitat  is  assigned.  In 
other  cases  the  abode,  even  in  a  tree,  river,  or  rock, 
may  be  but  temporary — a  phenomenon  which  is 
especially  characteristic  of  dream-demons,  disease- 
demons,  and  the  like. 

There  is,  furthermore,  a  close  connexion  of 
demons  and  spirits  with  the  great  type  of  religion 
known  as  Fetishism  (q.v.),  which  may  roughly  be 
defined,  with  Tylor  (ii.  144),  as  '  the  doctrine  of 
spirits  embodied  in,  or  attached  to,  or  conveying 
influence  through,  certain  material  objects,'  the 
fetish  itself  being  a  material,  or  even  animal  (cock, 
serpent,  bear,  etc.),  or  natural  (river,  tree,  etc.), 
object  in  which  a  spirit  is  believed  to  take  up  its 
abode,  either  temporarily  or  permanently.  To 
quote  Tylor  (ii.  145)  again  : 


'To  class  an  object  as  a  fetish,  demands  explicit  statement 
that  a  spirit  is  considered  as  embodied  in  it  or  acting  through 
it  or  communicating  by  it,  or  at  least  that  the  people  it  belongs 
to  do  habitually  think  this  of  such  objects  ;  or  it  must  be  shown 
that  the  object  is  treated  as  having  personal  consciousness  and 
power,  is  talked  with,  worshipped,  prayed  to,  sacrificed  to, 
petted  or  ill-treated  with  reference  to  its  past  or  future  be- 
haviour to  its  votaries.'  Cf.,  however,  the  well-founded  objec- 
tion of  Jevons,  pp.  166-169,  to  the  scientific  use  of  the  word 
'  fetish  '  at  all,  since  it '  may  mean  one  thing  to  one  person  and 
another  to  another,  because  it  has  no  generally  accepted  scientific 
definition.' 

Nevertheless,  however  vague  the  term  '  fetish ' 
may  be,  it  is  at  least  clear  that  the  idea  of  spirit- 
habitation  which  it  conveys  is  closely  connected,  in 
its  development,  with  the  forms  of  religion  associ- 
ated with  amulets  (see  Charms  and  Amulets, 
vol.  iii.  p.  398a)  and  idols  (see  IMAGES  AND  IDOLS). 

Generally  speaking,  a  spirit  is  regarded,  unless 
properly  propitiated,  as  malevolent  and  maleficent 
more  often  than  as  benevolent  and  beneficent ;  in 
other  words,  to  revert  to  the  common,  though  lax, 
phraseology,  demons  are  more  numerous  than 
spirits.  At  first  sight  this  state  of  belief  is 
analogous  to  that  which  gives  more  prominence 
to  malignant  than  to  benignant  deities,  because 
the  benevolent  gods  are  already  good  and  need  no 
propitiation,  while  every  effort  must  be  made  to 
appease  and  to  propitiate  the  malevolent  ones. 
Such,  however,  does  not  seem  to  be  the  real 
psychology  in  the  case  of  demons  and  spirits.  The 
true  ground  for  the  predominance  in  number  and 
in  importance  of  malevolent  over  benevolent  spirits 
appears  to  be  well  outlined  by  Jevons  (p.  177),  who 
finds  the  explanation  in  the  fact,  already  noted, 
that  the  spirit  is  unattached  to  any  clan  or  com- 
munity, whereas  a  god  is  connected  with  one  or 
another  clan.  The  spirit  is,  therefore,  much  in  the 
position  of  an  unattached  ghost ;  and,  as  to  the 
primitive  mind,  with  its  intense  concept  of  kinship 
— whether  real  or  artificial — all  that  is  not  akin  is 
hostile,  a  spirit  thus  unattached,  and  consequently 
unakin,  would  naturally  tend  to  be  regarded  as 
hostile  and  malevolent.  It  must  be  remembered, 
too,  that  the  qualities  ascribed  to  the  spirits  reflect 
in  great  measure  the  qualities  of  their  worship- 
pers (cf.  Schneider,  106) ;  for  instance,  the  Kioko 
of  Portuguese  West  Africa  hold  that  each 
spirit  has  his  own  district,  which  he  jealously 
guards,  being  deeply  angered  by  the  intrusion  of 
any  neighbouring  spirit  (ib.  150).  Spirits  also 
possess  other  traits  still  more  human,  so  that, 
among  the  African  Bambara,  the  spirits  '  have  sex, 
males  and  females  are  found  among  them,  they 
have  children,  and  some,  if  not  all,  even  believe 
them  to  be  clothed '  (Henry,  in  Anthropos,  iii.  702) ; 
while  in  Loango  we  find  a  specific  'mother  of 
spirits '  named  Bunsi,  who  has  peopled  the  whole 
land  with  spirits,  who  in  their  turn  have  begotten 
others  (Schneider,  132  f.)  ;  and  the  Australian 
Urabunna  and  Warramunga  believe  that  the 
black-snake  totem  ancestor  begot  spirit  children 
who  now  live  in  water-holes  and  in  gum-trees  along 
the  bank  of  the  creek  (Spencer-Gillenb,  p.  162,  cf. 
also  p.  301). 

It  is  comparatively  seldom  that  the  primitive 
mind  makes  a  clear  discrimination  between  good 
and  evil  spirits  so  far  as  to  distinguish  them  by 
special  epithets,  as  do  the  Africans  of  Benguela 
(Schneider,  135) ;  and  the  very  fact  that  the  names 
applied  by  the  Malays  of  Passumah  Lebar  to  good 
spirits  (dewa)  and  to  evil  spirits  (jinn)  are  of  Skr. 
and  Arab,  origin  respectively  (Waitz-Gerland, 
Anthropol.  der  Naturvolker,  Leipzig,  1860-72,  v.  i. 
166)  betrays  the  late  date  of  this  nomenclature  (cf. 
also  Tylor,  ii.  319). 

In  the  regions  under  consideration,  belief  in 
demons  and  spirits  is  especially  characteristic  of 
Africa  (as  is  shown  at  once  by  the  fact  that 
'  fetishism '  is  par  excellence,  the  type  of  African 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Introductory) 


567 


religion1),  where  it  maintains  itself  side  by  side 
with  ghost-worship.  In  Oceania,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  two  types  of  religion  are  mutually  ex- 
clusive. In  Polynesia,  Australia,  and  Micronesia, 
spirits  are  practically  unworshipped  as  compared 
with  ghosts,  while  in  the  Ellice  Islands  and  the 
Union  Group  (Tokelau)  the  reverse  is  the  case 
(Waitz-Gerland,  V.  ii.  139-142,  194-199) ;  and  in 
Melanesia 

'religion  divides  the  people  into  two  groups  ;  one,  where,  with 
an  accompanying  belief  in  spirits,  never  men,  worship  is  directed 
to  the  ghosts  of  the  dead,  as  in  the  Solomon  Islands ;  the  other, 
where  both  ghosts  and  spirits  have  an  important  place,  but  the 
spirits  have  more  worship  than  the  ghosts,  as  is  the  case  in  the 
New  Hebrides  and  in  the  Banks  Islands '  (Codrington,  123). 

Naturally,  the  same  effect  may  he  ascribed  by 
primitive  man  to  different  causes.  Thus,  among 
the  Orang  Kubu  of  Sumatra  and  the  Mintira  of 
the  Malay  Peninsula,  disease  is  caused  by  spirits 
(Waitz-Gerland,  v.  i.  181 ;  Journ.  Ind.  Archipel. 
i.  307),  whereas  in  Africa  generally  and  in  Melanesia 
(Schneider,  116,  125,  152;  Codrington,  194)  disease 
is  more  commonly  due  to  malignant  ghosts — al- 
though here,  too,  the  vague  distinction  between 
ghosts  and  spirits,  already  noted,  often  renders 
uncertain  any  precise  determination  of  the  cause  of 
disease  (cf.  Tylor,  ii.  125  ff. ,  where  further  examples 
will  be  found  ;  and  see  art.  DISEASE  AND  MEDI- 
CINE). The  same  statement  holds  true  of  posses- 
sion (or  obsession)  by  spirits  and  ghosts.  Some- 
times, as  normally  in  Melanesia,  it  is  the  shades  of 
the  departed,  rather  than  the  vui,  that  cause  the 
phenomena  comprised  under  the  category  of  pos- 
session (Codrington,  218-220) ;  while,  along  the 
shores  of  Blanche  Bay,  New  Britain,  all  this  is 
caused  by  the  ihal,  a  being  which  is  evidently  a 
spirit,  not  a  ghost  (Meier,  '  Der  Glaube  an  den  ihal 
und  den  tutana  vurakit,'  in  Anthropos,  v.  [1910] 
95  ff. ;  see,  further,  both  for  ghost-  and  for  spirit- 
possession,  Tylor,  i.  98,  ii.  123  ff.) ;  and  in  the  vast 
domain  of  magic  (q.v.)  it  will  be  found  that  both 
ghosts  and  spirits  are  among  the  powers  controlled 
by  magicians. 

As  regards  the  places  of  abode  of  demons  and 
spirits,  the  words  of  Brun  (in  Anthropos,  ii.  [1907] 
728)  with  reference  to  the  African  Malinke,  a 
Mandingo  stock,  may  serve  as  applicable  to  almost 
any  people  among  whom  this  type  of  religion 
prevails : 

'  Dans  la  pensee  des  Malinkes,  notre  planete  est  peuplee  d'une 
multitude  d  esprits.  Les  uns  resident  dans  des  lieux  deter- 
mines, fleuves,  rivieres,  montagnes,  blocs  de  rochers  ;  d'autres 
danB  certains  arbres.  Le  grand  vent  et  le  tonnerre  sont  produits 
par  les  esprits.  Dans  presque  touB  les  villages,  il  y  a  un  grand 
arbre  dans  lequel  reside  l'esprit  protecteur  du  village.'  Among 
the  Polynesians,  in  like  manner,  Ellis  (Polyn.  Researches*, 
London,  1832,  i.  327-330)  records  deities  (who  may,  however, 
originally  have  been  ghosts)  of  the  sea,  air,  valleys,  mountains, 
precipices,  and  ravines. 

It  is,  indeed,  this  very  type  of  Nature-spirit 
which  has  in  great  part  given  rise  to  the  theory  of 
Animism  (cf.  Tylor,  ii.  205  ff,  and,  for  Polynesia 
especially,  Waitz-Gerland,  vi.  295-298).  To  give  a 
complete  list  of  such  spirits  would  be  to  catalogue 
almost  every  object  both  in  inanimate  and  in 
animate  Nature — a  task  that  would  be  not  merely 
enormous,  but,  for  the  present  purpose,  useless, 
since  the  underlying  principles  are  everywhere  the 
same,  and  the  varying  details  do  not  materially 
affect  the  cardinal  doctrine  involved.  It  will  be 
quite  sufficient,  therefore,  to  note  a  few  of  the 
more  prominent  classes  of  Nature-spirits  in  Africa 
and  Oceania  by  way  of  examples  of  the  whole 
type. 

(a)  Animals. — Along  the  Slave  Coast,  Danhgbi, 
the  python  spirit,  receives  divine  homage,  as  do 
crocodiles  and,  in  Togo,  leopards  (the  latter  may, 
however,  be  the  abodes  of  ghosts  rather  than  of 

1  It  must,  however,  be  noted  that  Nassau  regards  all  the 
spirits  worshipped  in  W.  Africa  as  originally  ghosts  ('Spiritual 
Beings  in  West  Africa,'  in  Journ.  Amer.  Qeograph.  Soc.  xxxiii. 
[1901]  389-400,  xxxv.  [1903]  115-124). 


spirits  ;  see  ANIMALS,  vol.  i.  pp.  5U9f.,  520  f.),  and 
among  the  Mandingo  reverence  is  paid  to  serpents 
as  divine  (cf.  ib.  vol.  i.  p.  525  f.,  and  art.  Serpent- 
worship).  Yet  here,  too,  as  just  noted,  the 
difficulty  of  accurate  distinction  between  spirits 
and  ghosts  confronts  us,  and  the  animal  is  more 
usually  the  home  of  the  latter  than  of  the  former 
(cf.  Tylor,  ii.  7f.,  229,  378  f.  ;  see  also  above,  vol.  i. 
p.  493  f.) :  and  we  must  also  remember  that  animals 
are  often  held  to  be  god-homes,  and  that  there  are 
still  other  factors  which  go  to  make  up  the  com- 
plex system  of  animal-worship  (see  artt.  ANIMALS, 
Totem  ism). 

(6)  Water-spirits. — Attention  has  been  called  in 
art.  Bridge  to  the  wide-spread  belief  in  deities  and 
spirits  believed  to  be  resident  in  rivers,  and  the 
same  thing  is,  of  course,  true  of  larger  bodies  of 
water,  such  as  lakes,  as  in  the  Banks  Islands 
(Codrington,  186).  To  this  category  belongs  the 
African  Fugamu,  at  once  the  deity  of  the  Rembo 
Ngoyai  (a  tributary  of  the  Ogove)  and  the  teacher 
of  the  smith's  art,  while  dreaded  demons  dwell  in 
the  falls  of  the  Congo,  and  the  Kafirs  fear  the 
water-demons  Ikanti  and  Uhili  (Schneider,  131, 
133,  137,  151  f.  ;  Kidd,  Essential  Kafir,  London, 
1904,  p.  10,  inclines  to  regard  the  Kafir  demons  as 
ghosts  rather  than  as  spirits) ;  thus,  as  Tylor  sums 
up  the  matter  for  Africa  (ii.  211 ;  cf.  also  i.  108-110, 
ii.  209 ff), 

'  in  the  East,  among  the  Wanika,  every  spring  has  its  spirit, 
to  which  oblations  are  made  ;  in  the  West,  in  the  Akra  district, 
lakes,  ponds,  and  rivers  received  worship  as  local  deities.  In 
the  South,  among  the  Kafirs,  streams  are  venerated  as  personal 
beings,  or  the  abodes  of  personal  deities,  as  when  a  man  cross- 
ing a  river  will  ask  leave  of  its  spirit,  or  having  crossed  will 
throw  in  a  stone  ;  or  when  the  dwellers  by  a  stream  will  sacri- 
fice a  beast  to  it  in  time  of  drought,  or,  warned  by  illness  in  the 
tribe  that  their  river  is  angry,  will  cast  into  it  a  few  handfuls  of 
millet  or  the  entrails  of  a  slaughtered  ox.' 

(c)  Forests  and  trees. — Forests  and  trees  likewise 
are  the  abodes  of  spirits.  The  New  Britain  belief 
in  the  ihal,  which,  in  the  form  of  an  owl,  has  its 
usual  home  in  a  tree,  has  already  been  noted,  and 
a  similar  belief  prevails  in  Melanesia  (Codrington, 
186  f.).  For  a  like  reason  the  Wanika  reverence 
the  coco-nut  palm  (Schneider,  159),  while  the  Bam- 
bara  also  are  among  the  many  African  peoples  that 
believe  trees  to  be  tenanted  by  spirits  (Henry,  in 
Anthropos,  iii.  703 ;  for  further  examples,  where 
ghosts,  totems,  etc.,  are  also  factors,  see  Jevons, 
eh.  xvi. ;  Tylor,  i.  475,  ii.  215  ff.  ;  and  art.  Trees). 

(d)  Mountains. — The  African  Malinke  believe 
that  the  mountain  at  Kita  is  the  home  of  malevolent 
spirits  (Brun,  loc.  cit.),  and  throughout  Oceania 
there  was  an  abundance  of  mountain-  and  rock- 
spirits,  some  of  which  must,  however,  be  reckoned 
as  ghosts  (see  Waitz-Gerland,  vi.  295-297,  where 
may  be  found  a  general  survey  of  Nature-spirits  in 
the  Pacific  islands).  The  extent  to  which  mountain- 
spirits  may  be  specialized  is  well  illustrated  in  the 
list  of  the  dread  deities  of  the  volcano  Kilauea,  in 
Hawaii,  thus  recorded  by  Ellis  (iv.  248  f.) : 

Kamoho-arii  ('  king  Mono,'  or  '  king  vapour '),  Ta-poha-i-tahi- 
ora  ('explosion  in  the  place  of  life'),  Te-au-a-te-po  ('rain  of 
night '),  Tane-hetiri  ('  husband  of  thunder'),  Te-o-ahi-tama-taua 
('  fire-thrusting  child  of  war ') — all  these  being  brothers  ;  Makore- 
wawahi-waa  ('fiery -eyed  canoe-breaker'),  Hiata-wawahi-lani 
('thunder-rending  cloud-holder'),  Hiata-noho-lani  ('heaven- 
dwelling  cloud-holder '),  Hiata-taarava-mata  ('  quick-glancing- 
eyed  cloud-holder '),  Hiata-hoi-te-pori-a-Pele  ('  cloud-holder  em- 
bracing [or,  kissing]  the  bosom  of  Pele '),  Hiata-ta-bu-enaena 
('red-hot  mountain-holding  [or  lifting]  clouds'),  Hiata-tareiia 
('wreath-encircled  cloud-holder'),  and  Hiata-opio  ('young 
cloud-holder') — all  these  being  sisters  of  the  great  goddess 
Pele. 

Prominent  among  the  distinctly  good  spirits  are 
those  whose  special  function  it  is  to  act  as 
guardians.  From  this  class  we  must,  of  course, 
exclude  the  'separable  soul,'  such  as  the  okra,  or 
kra,  of  the  Tshi  and  the  luwo  of  the  Ewe,  which  is 
a  second  soul,  created  together  with  the  individual 
whom  it  is  to  guard  throughout  his  life  (see  art. 
SOUL) ;  and  we  must  also  once  more  essay  the  far 


568 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Assyr.-Bab.) 


less  easy  task  of  distinguishing  guardian  spirits 
from  guardian  ghosts.  To  the  latter  class  seem  to 
belong  such  supernatural  guardians  as  the  Zulu 
ama-tongo,  the  Bantu  mizimi  and  ombwiri  (Schnei- 
der, 139  ff.,  152;  Hartland,  art.  Bantu,  vol.  ii. 
p.  360a),  and  the  Tahitian  orarnatua  (Waitz-Gerland, 
vi.  316) ;  yet  there  are  also  cases  where  the  guard- 
ian is  believed  to  be  a  spirit  in  the  strict  sense  of 
the  term.  Such  appears  to  be  the  case  in  the 
Gold  and  Slave  Coasts  (Jevons,  165  f.  ;  see  also 
his  whole  ch.  xiv.),  and  in  Samoa  and  other 
Polynesian  islands  the  guardian  spirit  was  ex- 
pressly declared  to  be  a  god  {aitu),  not  a  ghost 
(varua ;  see  the  examples  collected  by  Waitz- 
Gerland,  vi.  317  ff.).  For  further  details,  see  artt. 
Totemism,  Tutelary  Gods. 

Another  important  class  of  spirits  is  formed  by 
those  of  prophecy,  their  functions  being  to  a  large 
extent  shared,  as  is  perfectly  obvious,  by  ghosts. 
As  examples  of  this  kind  of  beings  we  may  refer 
to  a  spirit  dwelling  in  an  enormous  stone  near 
Kita  (Brun,  loc.  cit.),  the  Matabele  Makalaka 
(Schneider,  144),  and  the  ihal  of  Blanche  Bay 
(Meier,  in  Anthropos,  v.  96  f. ;  cf.  also  Tylor,  ii. 
131  ff. ).  These  spirits  may  simply  be  consulted,  as 
at  Kita,  or  they  may  enter  into  an  individual, 
producing  a  state  of  ecstasy,  as  at  Blanche  Bay 
(see  artt.  Oracle,  Possession).  Again,  it  is  to 
the  agency  of  spirits  that  primitive  man  attributes 
a  large  proportion  of  his  dreams  (Tylor,  ii.  189-191, 
411  ;  see  also  art.  DREAMS),  especially  those  of  an 
erotic  or  nightmare  character,  while  ordinary 
dreams  of  persons,  animals,  and  things  would 
normally  be  ascribed  rather  to  the  action  of  souls, 
whether  of  the  living  or  of  the  dead.  That  demons 
and  spirits  are  important  factors  in  causing  disease 
has  already  been  noted  (above,  p.  567"). 

The  presence  of  demons  and  spirits  is  normally 
revealed  solely  by  intangible  manifestations  which 
the  primitive  mode  of  thought  can  explain  only 
through  the  agency  of  such  supernatural  beings, 
as  in  the  case  of  disease,  dreams,  many  natural 
phenomena,  and  the  like  ;  but  a  demon  or  spirit  is 
also  often  regarded  as  sufficiently  tangible  to  leave 
footprints  in  ashes  or  similar  substances  strewn 
where  it  may  be  thought  likely  that  he  will  come  ; 
and  animals  are  frequently  believed  to  be  able  to 
perceive  spirits  which  the  duller  vision  of  men  can- 
not discern  (Tylor,  ii.  196-198).  Beneficent  spirits, 
when  present,  are,  of  course,  gladly  entertained, 
and  are  even  constrained  to  remain ;  but  there  is, 
naturally  enough,  a  determined  effort  to  get  rid  of 
maleficent  demons.  All  these  operations  of  invita- 
tion or  of  expulsion  are  part  of  magic  (q.v.),  and 
come  to  the  front  especially  in  case  of  disease  (see 
art.  Disease  and  Medicine),  or,  from  the  more 
ethical  and  ritual  side,  in  the  ceremonies  associ- 
ated, for  example,  with  the  scapegoat  in  ethnic 
religions  (see  AZAZEL  and  Scape  ANIMALS). 

There  is  one  class  of  beings  that  may  perhaps  be 
regarded  as  on  the  border-line  between  spirits  and 
ghosts,  though  inclining  rather  to  the  latter  cate- 
gory. One  or  two  peoples  preserve  a  tradition  that 
they  have  conquered  their  present  territory  by  in- 
vasion and  subjugation  of  a  former  tribe  of  entirely 
different  nature,  and  are  convinced  that  this  van- 
quished tribe  still  survives  in  spirit  form.  It  is 
generally  held  that  we  have  here  one  of  the  sources 
of  the  folk-belief  in  fairies,  brownies,  kobolds, 
dwarfs,  giants,  and  the  like  (cf.  Tylor,  i.  385  ff.  ; 
CF,  pp.  21  f.,  429).  To  this  class  belong  the  Maori 
patu-paerehe,  who  lived  chiefly  on  the  tops  of  lofty 
hills,  while  the  taniivha  had  their  homes  in  river- 
holes  or  under  cliff's,  etc.,  where  they  caused  such 
calamities  as  land-slips  and  the  like  (Tylor,  pp. 
153-157).  Similar  beings,  explicitly  called  vui,  or 
spirits,  are  believed  to  dwell  in  the  New  Hebrides 
and  Banks   Islands,  where  '  they  have  been  seen 


of  late  in  human  form,  smaller  than  the  native 
people,  darker,  and  with  long  straight  hair ' 
(Codrington,  152  f.). 

The  cult  rendered  to  demons  and  spirits  may  be 
discussed  very  briefly,  for  it  differs  in  no  matter  of 
principle  from  that  of  the  gods  themselves.  As 
Jevons  (p.  175  f.)  says, 

'  The  method  by  which  the  negro  of  Western  Africa  obtains  a 
mhman  [a  tutelary  deity  of  an  individual]  is  an  exact  copy  of 
the  legitimate  ritual  by  which  a  family  obtains  a  family  god. 
.  .  .  All  over  the  world  these  private  cults  are  modelled  on, 
derived  from,  and  later  than,  the  established  worship  of  the 
gods  of  the  community.  The  difference  between  the  private 
cult  of  one  of  these  outlying,  unattached  spirits  and  the  public 
worship  of  the  community's  gods  does  not  lie  in  the  external 
acts  and  rites,  for  these  are  the  same  in  both  cases,  or  as  nearly 
the  same  as  the  imitator  can  make  them.  .  .  .  The  difference 
lies  first  in  the  division  which  this  species  of  private  enterprise 
implies  and  encourages  between  the  interests  of  the  individual 
and  of  the  community,  at  a  time  when  identity  of  interest  is 
essential  to  the  existence  of  society,  and  when  the  unstable 
equilibrium  of  the  small  community  requires  the  devotion  of 
every  member  to  prevent  it  from  falling.'  (For  a  detailed  study 
of  the  spirit-cult  of  a  specific  African  tribe,  see  Henry, '  Le  Culte 
des  esprits  chez  les  Bambara,'  in  Anthropos,  iii.  702-717.) 

Literature. — There  seems  to  be  no  special  treatise  on  this 
subject,  so  that  the  material  must  be  gleaned  from  the  writings 
of  missionaries  and  travellers  in  Africa  and  Oceania  (in  the 
older  works  much  care  is  needful  in  distinguishing,  where  such 
distinction  is  possible,  between  spirits  and  ghosts  or  gods),  from 
works  on  the  regions  under  consideration  (such  as  those  of 
Waitz-Gerland  and  Schneider,  quoted  in  the  art.),  and  from 
general  studies  on  Comparative  Religion.  Particular  interest 
still  attaches  to  the  chapters  (xi.-xvii.)  on  '  Animism '  in  Tylor, 
although  the  animistic  theory  is  subjected  to  sharp  criticism  by 
many  scholars  of  eminence.  LOUIS  H.  GRAY. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Assyr.-Bab.).- 
Among  the  ancient  Assyrians  and  Babylonians, 
as  among  the  modern  Arabs  of  Mesopotamia, 
superstition  was  rife,  and  a  firm  belief  in  all  kinds 
of  demons  and  jinn  was  current  in  every  class  of 
society.  The  Semitic  element,  when  it  entered 
Babylon,  took  over  from  the  Sumerians  much  of 
their  folk-lore,  and  it  is  for  this  reason  that  so 
many  of  the  Assyr.  words  for  ghouls,  hobgoblins, 
and  vampires  bear  their  Sumerian  origin  patently  ; 
and  out  of  this  amalgamation  sprang  the  elabor- 
ately developed  system  of  magic  in  vogue  during 
the  later  Assyr.  and  Bab.  empires.  This  art 
provides  the  magician  with  all  possible  means  for 
combating  hostile  devils  and  spirits. 

The  unseen  enemies  of  mankind  fall  naturally 
into  three  classes.  The  simplest  form — that  of  the 
disembodied  spirit  or  ghost — is  probably  universal. 
The  second — always  supernatural — differs  from 
gods  by  reason  of  its  low  order,  and,  as  Robertson 
Smith  says  of  the  jinn,1  is  mentioned  by  the  name 
of  its  class  and  not  by  a  personal  name,  save  in 
such  cases  as  Namtar  and  the  like,  who  are 
properly  gods.  Lastly,  there  is  the  half-human, 
half-supernatural  creature,  born  of  human  and 
ghostly  parentage — some  awful  monstrosity  sprung 
from  a  succuba  or  incubus.  These,  too,  are  known 
by  a  class-name  and  have  no  individual  title,  where- 
as the  higher  order  of  this  element  in  religion,  the 
demi-god,  is  always  a  personality. 

I.  Ghosts. — We  may  examine,  then,  first  in  order 
the  disembodied  spirit,  the  ghost  of  a  man  or 
woman,  which  for  some  reason  or  other  returns  to 
this  world.  The  Assyr.  word  in  use  is  edimmu.2 
This  edimmu  was  supposed  to  come  back  to  earth 
for  many  reasons ;  it  Deeame  hungry  and  restless, 
if  its  descendants  ceased  to  pay  it  due  rites  or 
offer  sacrifices  on  which  it  might  feed ;  or  it 
obtained  no  resting-place  in  the  world  of  shades 
underground,  if  its  earthly  body  remained  un- 
buried.  The  Assyr.  ideas  of  Sheol  were  probably 
much  the  same  as  those  of  the  ancient  Hebrews. 
When  a  man  died,  his  body  was  duly  buried  in  the 
earth,  and  the  spirit  then  inhabited  the  under 
world,   'the  House  of  Darkness,  the  seat  of  the 

1  Rel.  o/Sem.z,  1894,  p.  126. 

2  See  Hunger,  Becherwahrsaqung  bei  den  Babyloniem. 
Leipzig,  1903. 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Assyr.-Bab.) 


569 


god  Irkalla  .  .  .  the  house  from  which  none  who 
enter  come  forth  again.' 1  Here  its  food  was 
dust  and  mud,  doubtless  eked  out  by  the  liba- 
tions and  offerings  which  percolated  through  the 
earth  from  the  mourners'  sacrifices.  The  blood  of 
animals  slaughtered  at  the  grave-side  trickled 
through  to  reach  the  hungry  spirit  in  the  under 
world,  and  hence  the  belief  in  such  sacrifices. 
But,  if  the  attentions  of  descendants  towards  an 
ancestor  should  cease  on  earth,  and  the  spirit  thus 
was  deprived  of  its  food,  it  was  then  driven  by 
stress  of  hunger  to  come  back  to  earth  to  demand 
its  due.  How  it  succeeded  in  breaking  loose  from 
that  bourn  whence  no  traveller  returns  is  difficult 
to  understand,  unless  we  suppose  that  there  was  a 
dual  conception  of  ideas  arising  from  a  confusion 
between  the  grave  as  the  actual  habitation  of  the 
dead  man,  and  Sheol  as  the  place  of  shades ; 
probably  the  primitive  beliefs  of  savages  in  regard 
to  ghosts  were  never  very  definite  in  details,  and 
ideas  of  such  incorporate  and  invisible  beings  must 
necessarily  have  been  indeterminate.  For  ex- 
ample, Ishtar,  when  she  descends  to  the  under 
world,  threatens  to  break  down  the  door  of  Hades  : 

'  I  will  smite  the  door,  I  will  shatter  the  bolt, 

I  will  smite  the  threshold  and  tear  down  the  doors, 

I  will  raise  up  the  dead,  that  they  may  devour  the  living, 

And  the  dead  shall  outnumber  those  that  live.'2 
Yet  in  another  Assyr.  tablet  the  return  of  spirits 
from  the  grave  is  thus  described  : 

*The  gods  which  seize  (upon  man)  have  come  forth  from 
the  grave, 

The  evil  vapours  have  come  forth  from  the  grave. 

To  demand  the  payment  of  rifces  and  the  pouring  of  liba- 
tions 

They  have  come  forth  from  the  grave.'3 
The  word  '  vapours '  or  '  winds '  here  requires  some 
explanation.  The  reference  is  probably  to  the 
transparency  of  the  spirits  :  when  the  spirit  of 
Ea-bani  is  raised  from  Hades  at  the  instance  of  his 
friend,  the  Bab.  hero  Gilgamesh,  his  shade  rises 
'  like  the  wind '  through  an  opening  in  the  earth 
made  by  the  god  Nergal.4 

Similarly,  another  incantation,  although  it  con- 
fuses ghosts  with  demons,  refers  to  the  return  of 
hostile  spirits : 

'  The  evil  spirit,  the  evil  demon,  the  evil  ghost,  the  evil  devil, 
from  the  earth  have  come  forth  ;  from  the  pure  abode  unto  the 
earth  they  have  come  forth  ;  in  heaven  they  are  unknown,  on 
earth  they  are  not  understood.'  5 

In  the  instance  of  the  ututcktl-yrraith  of  Ea-bani 
being  raised,  like  Samuel  at  En-dor,  the  text 
continues  with  a  speech  of  the  ghost,  describing 
the  under  world  to  Gilgamesh  : 

'  The  man  whose  corpse  lieth  in  the  desert  (thou  and  I  have 
often  seen  such  an  one),  his  spirit  resteth  not  in  the  earth  ;  the 
man  whose  spirit  hath  none  to  care  for  it  (thou  and  I  have  often 
seen  such  an  one),  the  dregs  of  the  vessel,  the  leavings  of  the 
feast,  and  that  which  is  cast  out  into  the  street  are  his  food.' 
The  name  of  the  necromancer  in  Assyrian — mu- 
Seia  edimmu,  'raiser  of  the  ghost' — is  pertinent 
here,  to  show  that  the  belief  in  such  wizardry  was 
accepted.6 

Besides  the  unfed  ghost,  however,  there  was  also 
the  spirit  of  the  unburied  body  to  haunt  mankind. 
According  to  Assyr.  ideas,  which  tally  in  great 
measure  with  those  of  modern  savages,  if  the 
bones  of  the  dead  were  removed  from  the  tomb, 
the  spirit  at  once  became  restless,  and  was  com- 
pelled to  roam  about  the  world.  Ashurbanipal, 
giving  full  credence  to  this  belief,  in  his  invasion  of 
Elam  carries  away  the  bones  of  the  kings  of  Elam 
from  the  tombs,  and  causes  the  rites  paid  to  them 
to  cease,  that  their  spirits  may  have  no  rest.' 
Furthermore,  unless  the  body  was  buried,  the 
spirit  of  the  dead  man  never  reached  its  resting- 

i  King,  Dab.  Rel.  p.  179.  2  lb.  p.  180. 

3  Thompson,  Devils  and  Evil  Spirits  oj  Babylonia,  vol.  it, 
Tablet  '  Y '. 

4  King,  op.  ait.  p.  175. 

5  Thompson,  Devils,  ii.,  Tablet  'CO'. 
«  WAI  ii.  61,  2,  r.  11.  20,  21. 

7  lb.  v.  6,  1.  70  ff.  ;  for  other  and  parallel  instances,  see 
Thompson,  Semitic  Magic,  p.  10ff. 


place  in  the  under  world  ;  and  there  are  long 
catalogues  of  all  possible  classes  of  ghosts  to  be 
exorcized,  identified  by  the  reason  of  their  return 
to  earth : 

'  Whether  thou  art  a  ghost  that  hath  come  from  the  earth 
.  .  .  or  one  that  lieth  dead  in  the  desert,  or  one  that  lieth  dead 
in  the  desert  uncovered  with  earth  .  .  .,  or  a  ghost  unburied, 
or  a  ghost  that  none  careth  for,  or  a  ghost  with  none  to  make 
offerings  (to  it),  or  a  ghost  with  none  to  pour  libations  (to  it), 
or  a  ghost  that  hath  no  posterity'  (or,  '  that  hath  no  name  ').* 
Or,  if  through  some  accident  the  man  had  died 
an  untimely  death  and  had  not  been  given  due 
burial,  the  same  thing  would  happen  : 

'He  that  lieth  in  a  ditch  .  .  .,  he  that  no  grave  covereth 
.  .  .,  he  that  lieth  uncovered,  whose  head  is  uncovered  with 
dust,  the  king's  son  that  lieth  in  the  desert  or  in  the  ruins  (or 
waste  places),  the  hero  whom  they  have  slain  with  the  sword.'2 
Those  who  died  prematurely  became  ghosts  also, 
those  who  perished  of  hunger  or  thirst  in  prison, 
or  had  not  'smelt  the  smell  of  food,'  dying  of 
want,  or  had  fallen  into  a  river  and  been  drowned, 
or  had  been  overcome  by  storm  in  the  plains,3 
those  who  died  as  virgins  or  bachelors  of  marriage- 
able age,4  and  women  who  died  in  travail,  or  while 
their  babes  were  yet  at  the  breast.6 

This  last  ghost,  the  wraith  of  the  woman  dying  in  childbirth, 
is  universal.  Doughty  relates  that  the  Arab  women  explained 
the  hoot  of  an  owl  as  the  cry  of  a  woman  seeking  her  lost  child, 
she  having  been  turned  into  this  bird.**  Among  the  Malays  a 
woman  who  dies  thus  becomes  a  langsuyar,  or  flying  demon, 
which  the  rest  of  the  tribe  prevent  from  wandering  by  putting 
glass  beads  in  the  mouth  of  the  corpse,  a  hen's  egg  under  the 
arm-pits,  and  needles  in  the  palms  of  the  hands.7  The  original 
langsuyar  was  supposed  to  be  a  kind  of  night-owl  like  the  Lilith 
of  Rabbinic  tradition,  and  is  therefore  similar  to  the  ghost  of 
which  Doughty  speaks.8 

Now,  if  any  one  of  these  disembodied  spirits 
returned  to  earth,  it  was  likely  to  attack  any 
mortal  who  had  been  in  some  way  connected  with 
it  on  earth.  To  have  shared  food,  water,  un- 
guents, or  clothes  with  any  one  in  this  world 
rendered  a  patron  or  friend  liable  to  a  visitation 
from  the  ghost  of  his  dead  beneficiary,  demanding 
similar  attentions  after  death  ;  nay,  even  to  have 
eaten,  drunk,  anointed  oneself,  or  dressed  in 
company  with  another  was  reason  enough  for  such 
a  ghostly  obsession.  The  living  man  exorcizes, 
through  his  priest,  all  these  forms  of  ghost  in  the 
Assyr.  incantations,  threatening  them  that  no 
rites  shall  be  paid  them  until  they  depart : 

'  (Whatever  spirit  thou  may  be),  until  thou  art  removed, 
Until  thou  departest  from  the  man,  the  son  of  his  god, 
Thou  shalt  have  no  food  to  eat, 
Thou  shalt  have  no  water  to  drink.'9 
Many  of   the  medical  tablets  give  elaborate  pre- 
scriptions of  drugs  and  ceremonies  to  be  employed 
'when  a  ghost  seizes  on  a  man.'     Others  give  the 
ritual  for  laying  a  ghost  which  has  appeared  ;  and 
in  this  case   the  magician   repeats   long  formula? 
of    all    possible    ghosts,    thereby   showing,   as    is 
necessary    in    this    magic,    that    he    knows     the 
description  of  the  spirit  with  which  he  is  dealing  : 

1 A  brother's  ghost,  or  a  twin,  or  one  unnamed,  or  with  none 
to  pay  it  rites,  or  one  slain  by  the  aword,  or  one  that  hath  died 
by  fault  of  god  or  sin  of  king.' 10 

The  fear  of  the  obsessed  man  is  apparently  that 
the  ghost  will  draw  him  from  this  world  to  the 
other,  for  he  states  in  his  incantation  : 

'O  ye  dead  folk,  whose  cities  are  heaps  of  earth,  whose  .  . 

are  sorrowful,  why  have  you  appeared  unto  me  ? 
1  will  not  come  to  Kutha  [the  under  world]  [    Ye  are  a  crowd 
of  ghosts  :  why  do  ye  cast  your  enchantments  upon  me  ? ' 1J 

1  Thompson,  Devils,  i.,  Tablet  IV.  col.  iv.  1.  41  £f. 

2  WAI  ii.  17,  col.  iv.  1.  6ff.;  Haupt,  Akkad.  u.  sumer.  Eeil- 
schrifttexte,  Leipzig,  1881-82,  II.  ii.  1.  6ff. 

3  lb.  ii.  17,  1.  22  ;  Haupt,  op.  cit.  H.  ii.  1.  22  ff. 

4  This  is  a  probable  rendering  of  the  cuneiform  ;  see  Thompson, 
Semitic  Magic,  p.  19. 

6  Thompson,  Devils,  i.,  Tablet  IV.  col.  v.  1.  23 ff.;  Tablet  V. 
col.  i.  1.  52  ff. 

6  Arabia  Deserta,  Cambridge,  1888,  i.  305. 

7  Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  London,  1900,  p.  325. 

8  For  other  comparative  instances,  see  Thompson,  Semitic 
Magic,  p.  21  ff. 

9  Thompson,  Devils,  vol.  i.,  Tablet  IV.  col.  v.  1.  64 ff.;  Tablet 
V.  col.  ii.  1.  55  ff. 

1»  See  PSDA,  Nov.  1906,  p.  219ff.  col.  i.  11.  6-8. 
"  lb.  col.  i.  1.  13. 


570 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Assyr.-Bab.) 


Even  looking  upon  a  corpse  rendered  a  man  liable 
to  attacks  from  the  ghost,  and  such  an  act  de- 
manded a  long  ritual  to  free  him.1 

Were  any  further  evidence  required  that  the 
ancient  Assyrians  firmly  believed  in  the  possibility 
of  visible  ghosts,  we  have  only  to  turn  to  an  omen- 
tablet  in  the  British  Museum  (K.  8693)  which  gives 
a  list  of  the  events  to  be  expected  if  a  ghost 
appears  in  the  house  of  a  man.  But  enough  has 
been  said  on  the  disembodied  spirits  to  show  that 
the  Assyrians  were  convinced  of  their  existence, 
and  had  even  reduced  them  to  exact  classes  and 
species. 

2.  Unhuman  spirits. — The  second  kind  of  demons, 
those  entirely  unhuman,  for  whose  creation  mortals 
are  not  directly  responsible,  existed  among  the 
Assyrians,  as  among  other  Semites,  in  innumerable 
hordes.  The  first  of  them  is  the  utukku.  This 
word  is  used,  once  at  least,  for  the  wraith  of  the 
dead  man  returning  to  earth  (in  the  incident  of 
Ea-bani  quoted  above  from  the  Gilgamesh  Epic), 
but  elsewhere  it  appears  to  have  a  far  wider  mean- 
ing than  a  simple  ghost,  and  we  shall  probably  not 
be  far  wrong  in  considering  it  for  the  most  part  as 
the  equivalent  for  a  devil.  It  lurked  in  the  desert, 
the  common  home  of  many  Semitic  devils,  lying  in 
wait  for  man  ;  or  it  might  have  its  home  in  the 
mountains,  sea,  or  graveyard ;  and  evil  would  be- 
fall him  on  whom  it  merely  cast  its  eye.2  Another, 
less  well  known,  is  the  gallH,  apparently  sexless,8 
and  this  is  used  as  a  term  of  abuse  in  classical 
Assyrian,  Sennacherib  calling  the  hostile  Baby- 
lonians by  such  a  name.4  The  rabisu  is  a  lurking 
demon,  which  sets  the  hair  of  the  body  on  end.6 
The  labartu,  labasu,  and  ahhazu  are  a  triad 
frequently  found  together,  the  first-named  having 
a  whole  series  of  incantations  written  against  her. 
She  was  a  female  demon,  the  daughter  of  Anu,6 
making  her  home  in  the  mountains  or  cane-brakes 
of  the  marshes ;  and  children  were  particularly 
exposed  to  her  attacks.  To  guard  them  from  her, 
the  tablets  inscribed  with  incantations  against  her 
include  an  amulet  to  be  written  on  a  stone  and 
hung  round  their  necks,  and  the  inscription  runs  : 

'  "  Labartu,  [daughter]  of  Anu,"  is  her  first  name ; 

The  second,  ' '  Sister  of  the  [gods]  of  the  streets  " ; 

The  third,  "  Sword  that  splitteth  the  head  "  ; 

The  fourth,  "  Wood-kindler  "  ; 

The  fifth,  "  Goddess  of  awful  mien  " ; 

The  sixth,  "The  trusted  and  accepted  of  Irnina," 

The  seventh,  "  By  the  great  gods  mayst  thou  be  exorcized ; 
with  the  bird  of  heaven  mayst  thou  fly  away." '  7 

Of  the  other  two  of  this  triad  the  ahhazu  is 
apparently  combated  in  the  medical  texts.8  Of 
the  labasu  practically  nothing  is  known. 

Two  others  are  mentioned  in  the  cuneiform 
tablets— the  Sedu  and  the  lamassu,  the  former 
being  the  name  for  either  a  guardian  deity  or  an 
evil  spirit.  As  evil,  it  is  found  in  an  exorcism 
which  begins,  '  Spirit  (SUdu)  that  minisheth  heaven 
and  earth,  that  minisheth  the  land,  spirit  that 
minisheth  the  land,  of  giant  strength,  of  giant 
strength  and  giant  tread.  8  In  this  quality  of  evil 
the  surrounding  Semitic  nations  borrowed  the 
word  from  Assyria— the  Hebrews  under  the  form 
shedim,  the  Aramaeans  as  shida ;  but  it  had  also 
its  beneficent  side,  thus  approximating  to  the  idea 
of  a  guardian  angel.  With  the  lamassu,  which 
appears  always  as  a  kindly  spirit,  it  is  appealed  to 

1  Zimmern,  '  Ritualtaf eln,'  in  his  Beitrdge  zur  Kenntnis,  etc. 
p.  164. 

2  See  Thompson,  Devils,  i..  Tablet  III.  1.  28,  Tablet  'O ',  L  179 ; 
WA I  ii.  17,  i.  1.  3 ;  and  Haupt,  loc.  cit.  n.  i.  1.  3. 

8  Thompson,  Devils,  i.,  Tablet  V.  col.  iv.  1.  17. 

4  G.  Smith,  Hist,  of  Sennacherib,  1878,  p.  114, 1.  6. 

5  WAI  v.  60,  i.  1.  61 ;  cf.  Job  416  '  Then  a  spirit  passed  before 
my  face  ;  the  hair  of  my  flesh  stood  up.' 

6  Haupt,  loc.  cit.  n.  iii.  1.  69. 

7  Myhrman,  ZA  xvi.  [1902]  156  ;  WAI  iv.  66,  L  L 

8  Kiichler,  Assyr.-bab.  Medizin,  Leipzig,  1904,  p.  60,  ii.  28,  30, 
31,  etc. 

9  Thompson,  Devils,  i.,  Tablet  V.  col.  iv.  1.  8B. 


at  the  end  of  invocations,  both  being  frequently 
called  upon  to  be  present  after  the  evil  spirit  has 
been  cast  out.1 

In  addition  to  the  Assyrian  demons  specified  by 
separate  class-names,  there  are  the  '  Seven  Spirits,' 
now  well  known  from  the  following  incantation  : 

*  Seven  are  they  1    Seven  are  they ! 
In  the  Ocean  Deep,  seven  are  they  I 
Battening  in  heaven,  seven  are  they ! 
Bred  in  the  depths  of  the  Ocean  ; 
Nor  male  nor  female  are  they, 

But  are  as  the  roaming  wind-blast, 

No  wife  have  they,  no  son  can  they  beget ; 

Knowing  neither  mercy  nor  pity, 

They  hearken  not  to  prayer  or  supplication. 

They  are  as  horses  reared  amid  the  hills, 

The  Evil  Ones  of  Ea ; 

GuzalU  to  the  gods  are  they, 

They  stand  in  the  highway  to  befoul  the  path. 

Evil  are  they,  evil  are  they  1 
Seven  are  they,  seven  are  they. 
Twice  seven  are  they  1 ' 2 

*  From  land  to  land  they  roam, 
Driving  the  maid  from  her  chamber, 
Sending  the  man  forth  from  his  home. 
Expelling  the  son  from  the  house  of  his  father. 
Hunting  the  pigeons  from  their  cotes, 
Driving  the  bird  from  its  nest, 

Making  the  swallow  fly  forth  from  its  hole, 
Smiting  both  oxen  and  sheep. 
They  are  the  evil  spirits  that  chase  the  great  storms, 
Bringing  a  blight  on  the  land.'3 

'Tliej'  creep  like  a  snake  on  their  bellies, 
They  make  the  chamber  to  stink  like  mice. 
They  give  tongue  like  a  pack  of  hounds.'  * 
These  seven  spirits  are  undoubtedly  the  same  as 
those  mentioned  in  Lk  1  l24£f,)  and  in  a  Syriac  charm. 5 
They  are   exorcized  under  the  name  of    'seven 
accursed  brothers.'     They  are  described   in   this 
charm  as  saying :  '  We  go  on  our  hands,  so  that 
we  may  eat  flesh,  and  we  crawl  along  upon  our 
hands,    so    that    we    may    drink    blood/    Their 
predilection  for  blood  is  shown  in  the  Assyrian 
incantation : 

1  Knowing  no  mercy,  they  rage  against  mankind, 
They  spill  their  blood  like  rain, 
Devouring  their  flesh  (and)  sucking  their  veins.'8 
To  them  eclipses  were  due  ;  just  as  the  modern 
Semite  believes  that  he  must  frighten  away  the 
evil  spirits  from  the  darkening  sun  or  moon,7  so 
did  the  ancient  Assyrian  ascribe  such  a  phenomenon 
to  spirit  influence.     These  seven  spirits  are  said  to 
have  attacked  the  moon-god ;   and  Bel,  hearing 
what  they  had  done,  sent  his  servant  Nuzku  to 
take  counsel  with  Ea  against  them  : 
'  O  my  minister,  Nuzku  ! 
Bear  my  message  unto  the  Ocean  Deep, 
Tell  unto  Ea  in  the  Ocean  Deep 
The  tidings  of  my  son  Sin,  the  Moon-god, 
Who  in  heaven  hath  been  grievously  bedimmed.'S 
Ea  heard  the  message  which  Nuzku  brought,  and 
bit  his  lip  in  grief ;  he  summoned  his  son  Marduk 
and  conveyed  to  him  the  tidings  of  the  moon-god. 
[After  this  the  tablet  becomes  mutilated.]    When 
an  eclipse  did  occur,  it  was  held  that  man  might 
be  susceptible  to  its  concomitant   evils ;    many, 
indeed,  are  the  prayers  made  to  avert  the  baneful 
influence : 

1  In  the  evil  of  an  eclipse  of  the  moon  which  in  such  and  such 
a  month  on  such  and  such  a  day  has  taken  place,  in  the  evil  of 
the  powers,  of  the  portents,  evil  and  not  good,  which  are  in 
my  palace  and  my  land.' 9 

3.  Semi-human  demons. — The  third  class  of 
spirit — a  goblin  of  semi-human  parentage — must 
be  reckoned  the  most  interesting  of  the  three ;  and 
the  evidence  for  belief  in  such  a  monster  is  well- 

1  Thompson,  Devils,  I,  Tablet  III.  11.  88  ft,  163,  286;  Tablet 
'K',  11.  205,  224,  etc. 

2  Jb.  Tablet  V.  col.  v.  1.  28  fl. 
8  lb.  Tablet  IV.  col.  i.  1.  24  ff. 

4  lb.  Tablet '  C ',  1.  213  ff. 

5  H.  Gollancz,  Selection  of  Charms,  1898,  p.  87. 

6  Thompson,  Devils,  i.,  Tablet  V.  col.  iv.  1.  22 ff. 

7  Doughty,  Arabia  Deserta,  i.  289 ;  on  noise  driving  evil 
spirits  away  among  other  races,  see  Frazer,  OB  2, 1900,  iii.  66,  91. 

8  Thompson,  Devils,  i.,  Tablet  XVI.  1.  114  ff. 

8  King.  Bab.  Magic  and  Sorcery,  London,  1896,  p.  xxv ;  sea 
also  Scheil,  Une  Saison  de  fouilles,  Paris,  1896,  p.  98. 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Buddhist) 


571 


attested  among  the  Semites.  We  must  first 
discuss  the  triad  called  lilti,,  lilitu,  and  ardat  lili. 
The  second  is  obviously  the  feminine  counterpart 
of  the  first,  but  it  is  not  so  easy  to  discern  what 
is  the  difference  between  the  two  last.  These 
two — the  lilitu  and  ardat  lili — are  both  female 
demons,  the  femininity  of  the  latter  being  especi- 
ally emphasized  by  the  word  ardatu,  which  always 
has  reference  to  the  woman  of  marriageable  age. 
The  ardat  lilt  seems  to  have  assumed  the  tradi- 
tional functions  of  the  Heb.  Lilith  (obviously  the 
same  word  as  lilitu),  who  was  Adam's  second  wife 
during  the  period  of  Eve's  separation ;  and  ever 
since  that  time  the  class  of  succubce  known  by  the 
same  name  have  been  reckoned  as  the  ghostly 
wives  of  unmarried  men.  The  Assyr.  succuba,  the 
ardat  lili,  was  forced  by  her  desire  to  roam  abroad 
by  night  until  she  found  a  mate.  In  a  tablet 
giving  a  list  of  demons  and  spirits  we  read  of  the 
'  ardat  lili  that  hath  no  husband,  the  idlu  lili 
that  hath  no  wife'1  (the  second  being  the  male 
equivalent  of  the  first) ;  and  in  another  we  find 
mentioned  '  the  man  whom  an  ardat  lili  hath 
looked  upon,  the  man  with  whom  an  ardat  lili 
hath  had  union.'2 

The  Arabs  believe  in  the  same  possibility.  Sayce  quotes  as 
an  instance  that  '  about  fifteen  years  ago  there  was  a  man  in 
Cairo  who  was  unmarried,  but  had  an  invisible  ginna  as  wife. 
One  day,  however,  he  saw  a  woman  and  loved  her,  and  two 
days  later  he  died.'3  The  present  writer  met  with  the  same 
form  of  belief  at  Mosul,  and,  while  discussing  jinn  and  spirits 
with  some  of  the  Arabs  on  the  mound  of  Nineveh,  was  told  by 
one  of  them  that  he  knew  a  man  who  was  visited  by  night  by 
a  beautiful  woman-spirit,  who  had  already  borne  him  three 
children.4  The  Rabbis  attest  the  same  belief  in  their  stories  of 
Lilith  having  borne  to  Adam  devils,  spirits,  and  lilin ; e  and 
they  held  that  men  might  have  children  through  a  mesalliance 
Tith  a  demon,  and,  although  the9e  might  not  be  visible,  yet 
they  would  crowd  round  their  father's  death-bed,  waiting  for 
his  demise  to  hail  him  as  their  parent.6 
Besides  these  demons,  various  diseases  were  per- 
sonified in  the  same  way.  We  find  exorcisms 
against  sickness  beginning  thus  : 
'  Fever  unto  the  man,  against  his  head,  hath  drawn  nigh, 

Disease  (namtaru)  unto  the  man,  against  his  life,  hath  drawn 
nigh, 

An  evil  spirit  against  his  neck  hath  drawn  nigh. '  7 
Or  another : 

'  The  evil  Fever  hath  come  like  a  deluge,  and 
Girt  with  dread  brilliance ;  it  filleth  the  broad  earth.8 
The  Ninth   Tablet  of  the   series   '  Headache '   is 
similar : 

'Headache  roametb  over  the  desert,  blowing  like  the  wind.' 9 
The  Plague-god,  Namtar,  is  best  known  from  the 
story  of  the  Descent  of  Ishtar  into  Hades.  He 
is  the  'messenger  of  Allat,  the  queen  of  Hades,' 
and,  when  Ishtar  reaches  the  under  world,  he  is  sent 
by  his  mistress  to  smite  the  goddess  with  disease.10 

Another  spirit  of  Pestilence  is  Ura,  and  with 
this  demon  are  connected  the  little  amulets  of 
inscribed  clay,11  written  to  avert  evil  from  the 
house,  just  as  the  modern  inhabitant  of  the  Near 
East  affixes  Arabic  charms  to  his  walls la  (see  also 
Charms  and  Amulets  [Assyr. -Bab.]). 

Literatckb. — F.  Lenormant,  La  Magie  chez  les  Chaldiens, 
Paris,  1874, 1875  (Eng.  tr.  1877) ;  A.  H.  Sayce,  Bibbert  Lectures, 
London,  1887  (3rd  ed.  1891),  also  Religions  of  Ancient  Eaypt 
and  Babylonia,  Edinburgh,  1902 ;  M.  Jastrow,  Rel.  of  Bab. 
and  Assyria,  Boston,  1898,  also  Rel.  Bab.  und  Assy-Hens,  2 
vols.,  Giessen,  1905  ft. ;  L.  W.  King,  Bab.  Religion,  London, 
1899 ;  H.  Zimmern,  Beitrage  zur  Kenntnis  der  bab.  Religion, 
Leipzig,  1896-1901 ;  C.  Fossey,  La  Magie  assyrienne,  Paris, 
1902 ;  R.  Campbell  Thompson,  Devils  and  Evil  Spirits  of 
Babylonia,  London,  1904,  1905,  also  Semitic  Magic,  London, 
1908 ;  T.  G.  Pinches,  Rel.  of  Bab.  and  Assyria,  London,  1906. 

R.  Campbell  Thompson. 

1  Haupt,  loc.  cit.  n.  ii.  1.  30. 

2  WA I  v.  50,  i.  1.  41.  8  FL  xi.  [1900]  S88. 
*  See  PSBA,  Feb.  1906,  p.  83. 

B  Eisenmenger,  Entdecktes  Judentum,  Frankfort,  1700,  ii.  413. 
«  lb.  pp.  421,  425. 

7  Thompson,  Devils,  ii.,  Tablet  XI.  1.  Iff. 

8  lb.  Tablet  '  M ',  1.  1  ff.  9  lb.  p.  65, 1.  1. 

10  King,  Bab.  Rel.  p.  181.  "  King,  ZA  xi.  60. 

I2  The  present  writer  saw  two  such  at  Chokurlu  in  Asia  Minor, 
written  in  Arabic  against  face-ache  (see  his  art.  in  PSBA,  Nov. 
1910.  p.  238). 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Bnddhist).— 
Demon-worship  enters  largely  into  the  daily  life  of 
Eastern  peoples.  In  India,  where  Buddhism  arose, 
the  popular  religion,  both  Buddhist  and  Brah- 
manical, in  common  with  that  of  Easterns  gener- 
ally, has  concerned  itself  less  with  the  prospects  of 
happiness  in  a  future  life  and  the  '  higher  truths ' 
of  the  religion  than  with  the  troubles  in  the  pre- 
sent life  supposed  to  arise  from  evil  spirits,  who 
everywhere  infest  the  atmosphere  and  dwellings, 
and  are  regarded  as  the  cause  of  all  sickness  and 
misfortune.  The  higher  dogmatic  religion  and  the 
arrangements  for  the  future  life  are  handed  over 
largely  to  the  priests ;  but  the  people  themselves 
take  an  active  and  anxious  part  in  counteracting 
the  machinations  of  the  evil  spirits,  of  whom  they 
live  in  perpetual  dread. 

Buddhism  from  its  very  commencement  appears 
to  have  accepted  the  Hindu  mythology,  with  its 
evil  and  good  spirits,  as  part  of  its  theory  of  the 
universe.  Sakyamuni  himself  seems  to  have  taken 
over  from  the  Brahmanical  teachers  of  his  time, 
amongst  other  tenets,  the  current  belief  in  the 
gods  and  demons  of  the  Indian  pantheon,  and  he 
is  represented  in  the  more  authentic  early  texts  as 
referring  to  these  beings  as  objects  of  fixed  belief. 
He  also  accepted  the  current  Brahmanical  view 
that,  like  all  other  living  things,  they  were  imper- 
manent and  ultimately  subject  to  death  and  endless 
re-birth,  many  of  them  having  in  previous  existences 
been  men.  Ihus,  the  gods  and  demons,  being  in- 
capable of  saving  themselves  from  death  and  the 
misery  of  re-birth,  could  not  be  expected  to  save 
man ;  and  so  Buddha  declared  that  their  worship 
was  one  of  the  things  which  are  not  profitable  and 
therefore  unnecessary,  and  that  he  himself  as  '  the 
Perfectly  Enlightened  One,'  or  the  Buddha,  was 
superior  to  all  divinities.  Nevertheless,  as  these 
gods  and  demons  were  still  believed  to  be  capable  of 
doing  harm  as  well  as  good  to  man,  though  they 
could  not  effect  his  spiritual  salvation,  they  con- 
tinued more  or  less  to  be  objects  of  popular  worship 
even  in  early  Buddhism,  as  is  seen  in  the  most 
ancient  monuments. 

Whether  Buddha  himself  seriously  believed  in 
these  divinities  may  be  doubted.  Yet  the  earliest 
texts  agree  in  ascribing  to  him  the  statement  that 
he  descended  from  '  the  heavens  of  the  33  gods,'  in 
order  to  save  mankind.  Moreover,  in  the  early 
Jataka  tales  of  his  imaginary  previous  existences, 
he  claimed  to  have  been  one  or  other  of  the  gods 
in  former  times,  mentioning  himself  4  times  as 
Brahma  (the  most  exalted  of  all  at  the  epoch  of 
Buddha),  20  times  as  Sakra  or  Indra,  43  times  as 
a  tree-god,  and  once  as  a  fairy.  In  his  sutras,  or 
sermons,  the  god  Brahma  is  referred  to  as  one  of 
the  most  frequent  of  his  auditors.  And  the  cul- 
minating episode  of  Sakyamuni's  career — the  at- 
tainment of  Buddhahood  at  Gaya — is  universally 
represented  as  a  personal  struggle  with  Mara,  the 
Satan  of  the  Buddhist  world,  and  his  daughters, 
Desire,  Unrest,  and  Pleasure.  This  event  is  re- 
garded by  Buddhists  generally  not  as  an  allegory, 
but  as  an  actual  bodily  temptation  and  a  conflict 
with  manifested  evil  spirits. 

The  Buddhist  pantheon  thus  had  for  its  nucleus 
the  polytheistic  Brahmanical  one,  which  embodied 
a  physiolatry,  or  worship  of  the  personified  forces 
of  Nature.  It  soon,  however,  became  much  more 
extensive :  (1)  by  the  creation  of  new  deities  and 
spirits  of  a  special  Buddhist  type,  personifying 
abstract  conceptions  of  that  religion ;  and  (2)  by 
the  wholesale  incorporation  of  much  of  the  con- 
tents of  the  aboriginal  pantheons  of  those  peoples 
outside  India  over  which  Buddhism  extended  its 
conquests  as  a  'world -religion.'  In  this  way  the 
Buddhist  pantheon  has  become  the  largest  in  the 
world,  especially  in  its  array  of  demons  and  spirits. 


572 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Celtic) 


The  distinctively  Buddhist  demons  and  spirits  of 
Indian  Buddhism,  while  generally  modelled  on  the 
type  of  the  Brahmanical,  are  specifically  different 
from  these  in  their  functions,  in  their  appearance 
as  pictured  and  sculptured,  and  in  their  outward 
symbols.  They  range  from  the  modes  of  their 
prototype  Rudra  (Siva)  in  his  destructive  mood, 
through  the  asuras,  or  Titanic  demons,  to  the 
raksasas  an&pi&achas,  the  most  malignant  fiends. 
To  these  classes  may  be  relegated  most  of  the  non- 
Brahmanical  spirits  mentioned  in  the  early  Buddhist 
texts  or  figured  in  the  early  sculptures.  Some  of 
these  supernatural  beings,  although  unknown  to 
Brahmanical  texts,  may  have  been  local  Indian 
spirits,  not  necessarily  Buddhistic,  e.g.  the  famous 
she-devil  Hariti.  Mara,  the  personified  Evil  Prin- 
ciple and  tempter  of  man,  presents  a  close  analogy  to 
the  Satan  of  the  Bible,  although  he  was  not  a  fallen 
angel  in  the  literal  sense  ;  nor  was  he,  like  Ahri- 
man  of  the  Persians,  an  antagonist  of  equal  power. 
Though  unknown  by  that  name  to  the  Brahmans, 
he  is  manifestly  a  form  of  the  Indian  god  of  death, 
Yama  (Skr.  mar,  'to  die'),  and  in  other  aspects  he 
resembles  the  god  of  sensuous  desire  (kama). 

As  Buddhism  extended  its  range  outside  its 
monastic  order  and  became  a  religion  of  the  people, 
it  gave  greater  prominence  to  these  supernatural 
beings,  in  which  the  people  implicitly  believed,  and 
began  to  create  special  divinities  of  its  own.  These 
new  divinities  and  demons  it  figured  in  special  con- 
ventional attitudes,  with  characteristic  symbols, 
which  at  once  distinguished  them  from  the  Brah- 
manical ;  and  the  laity  were  made  familiar  with 
the  conventional  appearance  of  the  leading  ones 
by  means  of  the  frequent  sacred  plays  and  masked 
dances.  These  various  spirits  are  not  classed  in 
any  definite  systematic  order  in  the  Indian  Buddhist 
texts,  but  they  are  often  enumerated  as  follows : 

(a)  Celestial  Bodhisattvas,  of  a  divine  or  demoniacal  ^aivite 
type,  e.g.  Avalokita,  and  Vajrapani.  ib)  tfagas  and  Mahoragas, 
snake-like  or  dragon  beings,  resembling  clouds,  living  in  the 
sky  or  under  water,  their  maidens  assuming  siren-like  shapes, 
often  evil  spirits :  e.g.  Muchilinda,  who  shielded  6akyamuni 
under  the  Bodhi  tree  at  Gaya.  (c)  Yaksas,  genii  often 
friendly  to  man  :  e.g.  the  yaksa  Vardhana  (  =  '  Increase '),  who 
was  the  guardian  of  Buddha's  family  and  tribe  at  Kapilavastu. 
(d)  Asuras  (lit.  '  ungodly '  spirits),  giant  demons,  headed  by 
Rahu,  the  personified  eclipse,  (e)  Rdfcsasas,  ogre-fiends  cap- 
able of  assuming  siren-like  forms ;  daityas,  kumbhan4as, 
pUdchas,  and  pretax,  or  starveling  ghosts,  spectres,  vampire- 
ghouls  :  e.g.  Piiigala.    (/)  Malignant  fiends  of  hell  and  the  soil. 

Many  of  these  evil  spirits,  like  the  Sal/iovcs  of 
the  Greeks,  might  become  friendly  and  good  genii 
to  their  human  votaries.  The  exorcizing  or  co- 
ercing of  the  actively  harmful  amongst  these  evil 
spirits,  by  means  of  certain  sutras  spoken  by 
Buddha  or  stereotyped  sentences  culled  there- 
from, seems  to  have  been  practised  from  very 
early  times,  possibly  even  from  Buddha's  own 
day.  The  right-hand  disciple  of  Buddha,  Maud- 
galyayana,  is  generally  credited  in  the  early  scrip- 
tures with  having  exorcized  evil  spirits  in  this 
way  ;  and  the  recital  of  such  sutras — the  so-called 
Paritta,  or  '  Pirit '  service — is  the  most  favoured 
and  popular  way  of  combating  sickness  and  mis- 
fortune at  the  present  day  amongst  the  '  Southern  ' 
Buddhists  ;  whilst  in  '  Northern  '  Buddhism  such 
procedure  is  still  more  widely  developed. 

In  later  times  the  Indian  Buddhist  pantheon — 
itself  an  offshoot  of  the  Brahmanical,  and  living 
side  by  side  with  it — continued  to  develop  along 
lines  similar  to  those  taken  by  its  parent.  Thus, 
in  the  extreme  pantheistic  phase  it  evolved  a 
supreme  primordial  Buddha-god  existing  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting,  the  Adibuddha  (q.v.). 
The  rise  of  the  devotional  spirit,  with  its  craving 
for  personal  deities  to  whom  intimate  prayer  could 
be  addressed  —  the  Bhakti  phase,  resulting  in 
the  introduction  into  Brahmanism  of  &iva,  Visnu, 
Krsna,     Kama,    and    others,    with    their    female 


energies  (iaktis) — was  echoed  in  Buddhism  by  the 
creation  of  a  host  of  celestial  Bodhisattvas,  male 
and  female,  e.g.  Mafijusrl  and  Tara.  These  were 
able  and  willing  to  assist  those  who  invoked 
them  as  personal  gods  (yidam) ;  and  some  of  them 
(e.g.  Marichi)  were  fiendish  in  type.  Similarly, 
with  the  innovations  of  Yoga  and  the  degraded 
Tantra  developments,  certain  sections  of  the 
Buddhists  kept  pace  with  these  by  parallel  move- 
ments which  added  to  the  Buddhist  pantheon. 

The  extreme  Tantrik  phase  termed  Kalachakra, 
or  '  Wheel  of  Death,'  about  the  10th  cent.  A.D., 
introduced  a  rampant  demonolatry,  with  exacting 
priestly  rites,  into  a  religion  which  in  its  origin 
was  largely  a  protest  against  worship  and  ritual  of 
every  kind.  The  majority  of  these  demons  were 
monstrous  '  king-devils'  of  the  most  hideous  Saivite 
type,  with  their  equally  repulsive  spouses.  The 
chief  were  Vajra-bhairava,  Samvara,  Hayagriva, 
and  Guhya-kala.  Their  function  was  to  be  tute- 
laries  (yidam)  to  guard  their  human  votary  against 
the  attack  of  the  swarms  of  minor  demons,  whilst 
they  themselves  were  to  be  gained  over  to  perform 
these  friendly  offices  by  the  coercing  power  of 
Buddhist  spells.  Certain  of  them  were  also 
specially  selected  as  '  defenders  of  the  faith ' 
(dharmapala),  and  also  as  guardians  of  particular 
monasteries  and  particular  sects. 

At  the  present  day,  such  extravagant  demon- 
olatry prevails  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  through- 
out the  Mahayana  (or  '  Great  Vehicle ')  form  of 
Buddhism  in  China,  Korea,  and  Japan  ;  but  most 
of  all  in  Tibet  (see  '  Tibetan '  art.  below)  and 
Mongolia.  The  demonolatry  of  the  '  Southern ' 
Buddhists  in  Burma,  Ceylon,  and  Siam  is  of  the 
earlier  and  less  rampant  type. 

Literature. — A.  Foucher,  L'Iconographie  bouddhique  d& 
I'Inde,  Paris,  1900-1905 ;  A.  Griinwedel,  Mythol.  des  Bud- 
dhismus,  Leipzig,  1900  ;  H.  Kern,  Manual  of  Indian  Buddhism, 
Strassburg,  1896  ;  Monier- Williams,  Buddhism,  London,  1890  ; 
W.  W.  Rockhill,  Life  of  the  Buddha,  London,  1884 ;  L.  A. 
Waddell,  The  Buddhism  of  Tibet,  London,  1895,  'Indian 
Buddhist  Cult  of  Avalokita,  Tara,  etc.,'  JRAS,  1894,  pp.  51-89. 

L.  A.  Waddell. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Celtic).1— Intro- 
ductory.— In  the  case  of  Celtic  countries  it  is  not 
always  easy  to  draw  a  clear  line  of  distinction 
between  the  beneficent  and  the  maleficent  types 
of  those  supernatural  beings  that  cannot  be  counted 
in  the  ranks  of  definite  individual  gods  and  god- 
desses. There  are,  indeed,  imaginary  beings  in 
Celtic  folk-lore  that  are  predominantly  of  a  male- 
ficent disposition ;  but  the  majority  of  these 
beings  are,  like  human  beings  themselves,  of  mixed 
character.  The  term  '  demon '  in  English  has 
acquired  a  precision  of  meaning,  as  applied  to 
maleficent  supernatural  beings,  which  makes  it  a 
difficult  term  to  employ  in  describing  the  con- 
ditions reflected  in  the  religion  and  folk-lore  of  the 
Celts.  Again,  the  term  '  spirits,'  so  far  as  the 
facts  of  Celtic  folk-lore  are  concerned,  must  be 
used  in  a  somewhat  wide  sense,  and,  in  some 
measure,  its  use  is  bound  to  overlap  that  of 
'  demon,'  since  it  is  difficult,  in  the  folk-lore  of 
Celtic  countries,  to  draw  very  clear  lines  of  dis- 
tinction between  the  different  types  of  beings 
which  the  Celtic  imagination  has  created.  The 
clearest  and  broadest  line  of  demarcation,  perhaps, 
that  would  meet  the  case  would  be  that  separating 
the  actual  living  beings,  both  animal  and  human, 
which  people  the  visible  tangible  world  of  everyday 
life  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  those 
unreal  beings  which  are  imagined  as  living  nor- 
mally a  life  hidden  from  view  in  those  localities  and 
recesses  of  the  earth  which  easily  lend  themselves 
to  concealment  (such  as  caves  or  hollows,  or  some 
supposed  subterranean,  sub-lacustrine,  or  sub- 
marine region),  or  in  islands  of  the  sea  (actual  or 

1  Cf.,  throughout,  artt.  Celts  and  Communion  with  Dim 
(Celtic* 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Celtic) 


573 


imaginary),  or  in  some  wild  and  inaccessible  tract 
of  land,  or  in  the  depths  of  a  great  forest.  Further, 
the  lives  and  actions  of  these  imaginary  beings  are 
pictured  as  being  governed  by  conditions  that  may 
be  summarily  described  as  magical — conditions 
entirely  at  variance  with  the  facts  of  human  ex- 
perience, but  which  have,  none  the  less,  occasional 
points  of  resemblance  to  those  of  ordinary  exist- 
ence. Moreover,  the  beings  which  are  imagined  as 
living  under  these  abnormal  conditions  are  thought 
of  as  endowed  with  abnormal  powers ;  hence,  in 
the  Celtic  world,  they  are  viewed  as  equipped  with 
various  forms  of  magic  skill,  and  are  thereby 
specially  associated  with  those  human  beings  who 
are  thought  to  have  similar  endowments.  Nor  is 
it  always  easy  to  distinguish,  among  these  beings 
of  the  Celtic  Other-world,  (a)  those  which  may  be 
regarded  as  survivals  from  primitive  Animism, 
such  as  the  animate  'spirits'  of  inanimate  things  ; 

(b)  those  which  are  ancient  spirits  of  vegetation  ; 

(c)  those  which  are  beings  imaginatively  considered 
necessary  as  dwellers  in  a  hypothetical  Other- 
world  ;  and  (d)  those  which  are  exclusively  re- 
garded as  the  souls  of  departed  human  beings.  In 
all  parts  of  the  Celtic  world,  as  in  other  countries, 
there  are  ghost-stories,  wherein  the  ghost  is  viewed 
as  that  of  a  particular  human  being  :  but  very  often 
the  relationship  of  a  ghost  to  an  individual  man  or 
woman,  whose  soul  it  was,  sinks  into  the  back- 
ground of  the  story,  and  the  ghost  is  made  to  act 
like  some  other  type  of  imaginary  supernatural 
being.  The  various  types,  both  in  form  and  char- 
acter, often  merge  into  one  another. 

Again,  one  of  the  characteristics  of  the  Other- 
world  of  the  Celts,  which  may  be  said  to  fellow  as 
a  corollary  from  its  contrast  with  the  normal 
world,  is  that  the  beings  supposed  to  people  it  do 
not,  like  those  of  the  actual  world,  keep  their  own 
forms,  but  undergo  various  transformations.  Hence 
it  is  not  always  possible  to  distinguish  clearly 
between  those  of  animal  and  those  of  human  form, 
inasmuch  as  those  of  one  form  may  pass  into  a 
form  that  is  usually  characteristic  of  the  other, 
and,  along  with  the  change  of  form,  there  may 
also  be  a  change  of  character  or  disposition. 
Consequently  a  being  which  might  appear  as  a 
demon,  in  the  English  sense  of  the  term,  at  one 
time,  might  at  another  conceivably  be  represented 
in  some  other  form  as  a  benign  spirit.  In  some 
degree,  perhaps,  the  absence  of  definiteness  of 
character 1  in  question  may  be  the  reflexion  in 
Celtic  folk-lore  of  certain  human  types,  which  are 
not  unknown  in  Celtic  experience,  where  qualities 
that  are  in  the  highest  degree  laudable  are  com- 
bined with  others  that  are  glaringly  out  of  harmony 
with  them,  as,  for  example,  the  combination  of  a 
highly  temperate  and  devout  life  with  constant 
unpunctuality  or  frequent  remissness  in  the  keep- 
ing of  promises  and  engagements.  The  inhabitants 
of  Celtic  countries  have  not,  as  a  rule,  been  sorted 
out,  during  a  process  of  severe  and  relentless  moral 
drilling,  into  distinct  and  fixed  ethical  classes  to 
the  same  extent  as  the  inhabitants  of  some  Teu- 
tonic lands ;  and  the  prevalent  ethical  conditions  in 
Celtic  society  are  naturally  in  some  degree  reflected 
even  in  Celtic  folk-lore. 

Another  point,  again,  which  deserves  considera- 
tion is  that,  in  Celtic  folk-lore,  the  beings  whose 
normal  home  is  the  Other-world  are  far  from  being 
rigidly  confined  to  that  region,  but  are  represented 
as  coming  to  view  in  the  actual  world  either  by 
day  or  by  night — in  current  folk-lore  preferably 
by  night.     They  are  regarded  as  appearing  either 

1  In  the  case  of  the  Welsh  fairies,  for  example,  the  elements 
of  beneficence  and  maleficence,  as  the  folk-lore  stovies  about 
them  show,  are  curiously  blended  in  their  characters.  They  are 
represented  as  being  at  times  helpful  to  man,  at  other  times  as 
mischievous  and  vindictive  (see  Rhys,  Celtic  Folklore,  vol.  i. 
passim). 


singly  or  in  groups ;  and  those  to  whom  they 
appear  may  see  them  either  as  solitary  spectators 
or  in  company  with  others.  They  are  also  repre- 
sented as  entering  into  various  dealings  with 
normal  human  beings,  and  among  the  relations 
included  in  folk-lore  narrative  is  that  of  inter- 
marriage. Further,  just  as  the  beings  of  the 
Other-world  may  enter  this  world,  the  men  of  this 
world  may  enter  the  Other-world,  whether  by 
invitation,  accident,  or  invasion.  Many  Celtic 
legends,  such  as  Tochmarc  Etaine  ( '  The  Betrothal 
of  Etain ')  in  Irish,  and  the  story  of  Pwyll,  Pendefig 
Dyfed  ('Pwyll,  Prince  of  Dyfed '),  in  Welsh,  are 
largely  based  upon  belief  in  inter-relations  between 
the  two  worlds  of  the  type  in  question.  Christian 
teaching  and  the  spread  of  education  have  done 
much  to  assimilate  the  Celtic  consciousness,  in  the 
matter  of  belief  in  imaginary  beings,  to  that  of 
advanced  civilization  ;  yet  enough  of  the  ancient 
psychological  attitude  of  the  native  Celtic  mind 
still  exists  to  enable  one  to  form  a  fair  estimate  of 
the  extraordinary  hold  which  this  belief  must  have 
had  upon  the  mind  in  ages  further  back. 

I.  Celtic  demons  and  spirits  in  antiquity. — A 
large  number  of  the  names  of  Celtic  deities  that 
have  survived  (for  the  most  part  on  inscriptions) 
are  names  which  occur  but  once,  and  consequently 
they  may  be  regarded  as  probably  the  names  of 
local  deities  or  local  tutelary  spirits.  Sometimes 
the  name  is  clearly  identical  with  that  of  some 
town,  river,  or  mountain  (see  the  present  writer's 
list  of  '  Ancient  Celtic  Deities,'  in  Trans.  Gaelic 
Soc.  of  Inverness,  1906) ;  in  other  cases,  the  origin 
of  the  name  is  unknown.  About  two  hundred  and 
sixty  names,  which  occur  only  once  on  inscriptions, 
have  come  down  to  us,  and  there  were  at  one  time, 
doubtless,  many  more.  Along  with  these  in- 
dividual names  there  existed  others  of  grouped 
supernatural  beings,  such  as  {a)  the  Bacucei,  of 
whom  Cassian  [Conlat.  vii.  32.  2)  says : 

'  Alios  ita  eorum  corda  quos  ceperant  inani  quodam  tumore 
videmus  infecisse,  quos  etiam  Bacuceos  vulgus  appellat,  ut 
semetipsos  ultra  proceritatem  sui  corporis  erigentes  nunc 
quidem  se  in  quosdam  fastus  gestusque  sustollerent,  nunc  vero 
velut  adclines  ad  quendam  se  tranquillitatis  et  adfabilitatis 
statum  communes  blandosque  submitterent,  seseque  velut  in- 
lustres  et  circumspectabiles  omnibus  aestimantes  nunc  quidem 
adoraresepotestatessublimiorescorporisinflexionemonstrarent, 
nunc  vero  ab  aliis  se  crederent  adorari  et  omnes  motus  quibua 
vera  officia  aut  superbe  aut  humiiiter  peraguntur  explerent.' 

(b)  The  CastmcM  or  Castceci  are  known  to  us  only 
from  an  inscription  from  Caldas  de  Vizella  ( OIL  ii. 
2404  :  '  Rehurrinus  lapidarius  Castaecis  v.l.  [s]  m.'), 
and  similarly  (c)  the  Icotii  or  Icotiw  are  mentioned 
on  an  inscription  at  Cruviers,  Dep.  Gard  {OIL  xii. 
2902  :  '  Icotiis '),  while  (d)  the  Dusii  are  mentioned 
by  three  writers,  who  all  appear  to  view  them  as 
maleficent.  The  word  dusios  in  Celtic  probably 
meant  an  unclean  demon  or  incubus,  but  the  root 
of  the  word  is  not  improbably  cognate  with  that  of 
the  Greek  Beds  (where  8  stands  for  an  original  dh 
which  would  become  in  Celtic  d),  and  suggests 
that,  at  one  time,  the  character  of  these  beings 
was  regarded  as  beneficent  or  neutral. 

The  passages  relating  to  the  Dusii  are  the  following  :  Augus- 
tine (ae  Civ.  Dei,  xv.  23) :  '  Quosdam  daemones,  quos  Dusios 
Galli  nuncupant,  adsidue  hanc  inmunditiam  et  temptare  et  era- 
cere,  plures  talesque  adseverant,  ut  hoc  negare  inpudentiae 
videatur.'  Similarly,  Isidore  (Or.  viii.  11,  103) :  '  Pilosi,  qui 
Graece  Panitae,  Latine  lncubi  appellantur.  .  .  .  Saepe  inprobi 
existunt,  etiam  mulieribus,  et  earum  peraguntconcubitum,  quos 
daemones  Galli  Dusios  vocant,  quia  adsidue  hanc  peragunt  in- 
munditiam ' ;  ib.  104  :  '  Quern  autem  vulgo  Incubonem  vocant, 
hunc  Romano  Faunum  Ficarium  dicunt.'  Further,  Hincmar 
(de  Divortio  Lotharii,  i.  654,  ed.  Sirm.)  says  :  '  Quaedam  etiam 
feminae  a  Dusiis  in  specie  virorum,  quorum  amore  ardebant, 
concubitum  pertulisse  inventae  sunt.' 
(e)  The  Iftes  are  a  group  of  male  gods,  whose 
name  occurs  on  an  inscription  at  Dormagen,  in  the 
region  of  Diisseldorf  (Corp,  Inscr.  Rhenanarum 
[CIS]  292:  'Iflibus  Marcus  et  Atius  v.s.l.l.m.'), 
that  were  clearly  regarded  as  beneficent.  (/)  The 
Nervini  or  Nervince  were  probably  a  tribal  group 


574 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Celtic) 


of  beneficent  deities  or  spirits  that  were  connected 
with  the  tribe  of  the  Nervii.  In  one  case  we  have,  as 
the  name  of  a  group  of  deities  that  were  regarded 
as  beneficent,  the  plural  of  one  of  the  most  widely 
diffused  of  Divine  names  in  the  Celtic  world, 
namely  (g)  Lugoves,  the  plural  of  Lugus. 

This  plural  form  occurs  on  the  following  inscriptions :  (1)  at 
China,  in  the  territory  of  the  Celtiberi  (CIL  ii.  2S18):  '  Lugo- 
vibus  sacrum  L(ucius)  L(icinius  ?)  Urcico  collegio  sutorum 
d(onum)  d(edit) ' ;  (2)  at  Avenches,  in  the  territory  of  the  Hel- 
vetii  (CIL  xiii.  607S) :  '  Lugoves ' ;  (3)  at  Bonn  (Cf.fi  469) : 
'  [Do]raesticis  [Lugo]\ibus.  ..." 

Other  beneficent  spirits  are  (h)  the  Di  Casses, 
who  are  mentioned  on  inscriptions  as  follows : 

(1)  At  Lorsch  (CIR  1386) :  '  Castsibus]  pro  salfute]  dd(domln- 
orum  duorum)  nn(ostrorum)' ;  (2)  at  Ober-Klingen,  in  Hesse- 
Darmstadt  (CIR  1398) :  '  Cassibus  vota  fece(runt)  Macelu(s) 
Faustinu(s)  m(erito)  p(osuerunt) ' ;  (3)  at  Landstuhl,  Pta.\z(CIR 
1779)  :  '  Diss  (sic)  Cassibus  Matuinus  v.s.l.in.' ;  (4)  at  Neusladt, 
on  the  Hardt:  '  Dis  Cassibus  Castus  Taluppe  v.8.1.1.m.' 

Another  group  of  beings  that  corresponded  to 
the  type  in  question  was  that  of  (i)  the  Di  Silvani, 
to  whom,  along  with  their  female  counterparts 
the  Silvancc,  there  is  a  reference  on  an  inscription 
at  Barcelona  (CIL  ii.  4499  :  '  D(is)  d(eabus)  Silvanis 
M.  Antonius  Cr[esc]ens  v.s.l.m.').  This  is  the  only 
certain  instance  of  a  group  of  male  gods  of  this 
name.  By  far  the  most  common  groups  of  super- 
natural beings  mentioned  on  inscriptions  in  con- 
nexion with  Celtic  districts  are  (j)  the  Matres  and 
(k)  the  Matronoe,  while  there  are  smaller  groups  of 
(I)  Proximo?  and  (m)  Junones.  These  '  Mothers '  and 
'  Kinswomen'  seem  to  have  been  regarded  as  the 
protecting  deities  of  various  localities ;  and  their 
worship  appears  to  have  been  prevalent,  not  only 
among  the  Celts,  but  also  in  certain  Teutonic 
tribes  (see  an  article  by  the  present  writer  on 
'  Celtic  Goddesses '  in  CeR  for  July  1906,  and  art. 
CELTS,  vol.  iii.  p.  280).  These  goddesses  probably 
represent  a  very  early  phase  of  Celtic  religion,  and 
are  to  be  regarded  as  more  akin  to  groups  of 
spirits  (possibly  corn-spirits)  than  to  the  individual- 
ized deities  of  a  later  stage.  There  is  a  remarkable 
parallel  to  them  in  one  of  the  current  Welsh  names 
for  a  type  of  beneficent  fairy,  namely,  Y  Mamau, 
'  the  Mothers,'  used  in  some  parts  of  is.  Wales  as  a 
name  for  the  fairies  in  the  expression  Bendith  y 
Mamau,  '  the  blessing  of  the  Mothers,'  and  also 
found  in  the  name  of  a  well-known  hill  of  the 
Clwydian  range,  Y  Foel  Famau,  '  The  hill  of  the 
Mothers.'  Cf.  art.  D'&M  MATEES.  To  the  fore- 
going may  be  added  (n)  theNiskai  ( '  water-nymphs ') 
mentioned  on  the  Amelie-les-Bains  tablets  (COM- 
MUNION with  Deity  [Celtic],  vol.  iii.  p.  748"). 

2.  Demons  and  spirits  in  mediaeval  times. — 
From  the  foregoing  account  it  will  be  seen  that,  in 
the  Celtic  countries  of  antiquity,  a  belief  was  held, 
not  only  in  certain  individual  gods  and  goddesses, 
both  local  and  non-local,  bearing  names  of  their 
own,  but  also  in  groups  of  supernatural  beings, 
who,  by  the  very  fact  that  they  were  nameless, 
may  be  regarded  as  beings  in  a  sense  on  a  lower 
plane  than  the  named  deities,  and  so  may  be  fitly 
included,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  category  of 
demons  and  spirits.  How  far  they  may  have  been 
considered  as  the  indwelling  spirits  of  inanimate 
things,  or  as  the  spirits  of  vegetation,  or  as  the 
souls  of  dead  ancestors,  animal  or  human,  it  is 
impossible  to  say.  The  Celts,  like  other  nations 
of  antiquity,  doubtless  believed  in  the  existence  of 
spirits  of  human  beings,  which  were,  in  some 
mysterious  way,  connected  with  the  breath,  the 
name,  and  the  shadow.  Like  the  Greek  o-ki.6. 
and  the  Latin  umbra,  the  Welsh  term  ysgawd 
('shadow'),  for  instance,  was  used  for  the  soul. 
The  more  usual  Welsh  word,  however,  for  the  soul 
is  enaid,  a  derivative  of  the  root  an-,  '  to  breathe.' 
In  mediaeval  Welsh  this  term  is  constantly  used  in 
the  sense  of  'life,'  but  the  meaning  'soul' is  also 
frequent.     There  are  traces,  too  (Rh£s,  Celt.  Folk- 


lore, iii.  601-604),  of  a  belief  that  the  soul  might 
take  on  the  bodily  form  of  some  animal,  such  as  a 
lizard.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  Christianity  had  in- 
troduced, both  into  Goidelic  and  into  Brythonic 
speech,  certain  terms  of  Greek  and  Latin  origin, 
such  as  Ir.  diabul,  Welsh  diafl  (in  a  later  form 
diafol),  from  diabolus ;  together  with  such  forms 
as  Ir.  demun,  '  demon, '  and  Welsh  cythraul,  the 
latter  being  derived  from  Lat.  contrarius  through 
* contralius  (where  I  has  been  substituted  for  r  by 
dissimilation).  The  Ir.  spiorad  (older  spirut), 
'  spirit,'  and  the  Welsh  ysbryd  of  the  same  mean- 
ing, both  come  from  Lat.  spiritus.  At  the  same 
time  other  terms  of  native  origin  for  the  super- 
natural beings  of  folk-lore  survived,  such  as  Ir.  side 
and  aes  side,  '  the  fairies,'  whence  the  term  ban  side 
('banshee'),  which  means  literally  'woman-fairy.' 
The  oldest  Welsh  term  used  in  medifeval  Welsh  for 
a  fairy  is  hud,  together  with  its  derivative  hudol,  in 
the  same  sense,  for  a  male  fairy  and  hudoles  for  a 
female  fairy.  Hud  also  means  '  magic,'  and  this 
use  of  the  same  term  for  both  fairy-land  and  magic 
well  illustrates  the  inseparable  connexion,  for  the 
Celtic  mind,  of  magic  with  the  Other-world. 

In  Irish  legend  there  are  many  allusions  to  the  side  (as,  for 
instance,  in  Serglige  Conculaind  ('  The  Sick-bed  of  Cuchulainn ' 
[Windisch,  Irische  Texte, Leipzig,  1880-1905,  i.  214  f.,  227])  ;  and  in 
Tochmarc  Maine  ('  The  Betrothal  of  Etain  '  [ib.  pp.  120, 131]).  In 
one  passage  of  the  latter  a  fairy  domicile  (sid)  is  definitely  asso- 
ciated with  Brig  Liith,  '  the  hill  of  Liath(mac  Celtchair),*  the 
Irish  counterpart  of  the  Welsh  Llwyd,  son  of  Kilcoed,  a  famous 
magician,  twice  mentioned  in  the  Mabinogion,  and  once  by  the 
Welsh  14th  cent,  poet,  Dafydd  ab  Gwilym.  In  the  Book  of 
Armagh,  the  side  are  called  '  dei  terreni,'  and  they  appear  to 
have  been  regarded  as  dwelling  either  in  hills  or  on  islands  Sana 
as  Mag  Mell.  In  the  latter  case,  one  of  the  means  of  journe3ing 
to  them  was  in  a  ship  of  glass.  Some  of  the  fairies  were  regarded 
as  male  (fer-side),  but  they  were  more  often  regarded  as  female 
(ban-side).  The  legendary  characters,  Mider  (Tochmarc  Etaine, 
in  Windisch,  Ir.  Texte,  p.  121  ii. )  and  Manannan  mac  Lir  (Serglige 
Conculaind,  225),  were  associated  with  them,  and,  in  the  latter 
story,  two  of  their  kings  bear  the  names  Failbe  Find  and  Labraid. 
When  pictured  as  women,  they  were  represented  as  being  clothed 
in  white  raiment.  In  the  story  of  Condla  Caem  (given  in  Win- 
disch, Ir.  Gram.,  Leipzig,  1879,  pp.  118-120)  they  are  described 
as  wishing  to  carry  off  mortal  men  into  their  land  of  perpetual 
3'outh,  or  to  marry  mortals  ;  thus  Etain,  a  fairy  princess,  married 
Eochaid  Airem,  and  was  carried  back  later  on  to  fairy-land  by 
Mider,  a  prince  of  the  fairies.  The  connexion  between  the  side 
and  the  Tuatha  De  Danann  of  Irish  legend  is  very  obscure. 

In  Irish  legend  there  was  one  native  term  for  a 
supernatural  being  which  was  apparently  always 
of  maleficent  import,  namely,  siabrae  (Leabhar  na 
hUidhre,  113"  41,  114"  12,  115"  32).  This  word  is 
undoubtedly  the  phonetic  equivalent  of  the  Welsh 
hwyfar — a  term  no  longer  used  except  in  the 
Welsh  original  of  Guinevere,  namely,  Gwenhwyfar, 
a  name  which  must  originally  have  meant  '  the 
white  phantom.'  This  appellation  would  suggest 
that  hwyfar  had  not  originally  in  Welsh  the  con- 
notation of  malignity,  which  siabrae  seems  to  have 
acquired  in  Irish. 

In  medieeval  Welsh  the  name  hud  in  the  sense  of  '  fairy '  is 
applied  in  the  Black  Book  of  Carmarthen  (Poem  xxxiii.  1. 17)  to 
Gwyn,  son  of  Nudd  (Gwyn=Ir.  Find  ;  yudd  =  lr.  fluada)  ;  and 
his  mistress  is  said  to  be  Creurddilad,  the  daughter  of  Lludd 
(the  Welsh  original  of  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth's  Cordelia, 
daughter  of  King  Lear).  In  the  story  of  Eulhwch  and  Olwen, 
Gwyn  is  represented  as  fighting  every  first  of  May  until  the 
Day  of  Judgment  with  Gwythyr  for  the  hand  of  Creurddilad. 
In  the  poetry  of  Dafydd  ab  Gwilym,  which  reflects  the  current 
Welsh  folk-lore  of  the  14th  cent.,  Gwyn  is  regarded  as  in  some 
sense  the  leader  of  the  '  fairies,'  since  they  are  called  by  the 
poet  Tylwyth  Gwyn  ('the  family  of  Gwyn')  in  two  passages. 
The  Welsh  picture  of  fairy-land  given  by  the  poet  by  no  means 
represents  it  as  a  'land  of  eternal  youth,'  since  among  its 
dwellers  are  mentioned  gwrachiod  ('hags '),  nor  can  it  be  said 
that  the  picture  given  of  its  inhabitants  suggests  their  bene- 
ficent  character. 

The  expression  Y  Tylwyth  Teg  ('  the  fair  family ')  for  the 
fairies  is  found  in  the  poems  of  Dafydd  ab  Gwilym  (middle  of 
14th  cent.),  and  the  term  itself  would  seem  to  imply  that,  in 
the  main,  their  disposition  was  originally  viewed  as  beneficent 
and  their  appearance  pleasing,  though  the  poet  describes  the 
colour  of  one  of  them  as  brown  (gwineu).  At  the  same  time 
the  allusions  to  them  in  Dafydd  ab  Gwilyin  well  illustrate  the 
statement  made  at  the  beginning  of  the  article,  that  it  is 
difficult  to  assign  a  hard  and  fast  type  of  character  to  several 
of  the  beings  of  the  Celtic  Other-world.    For  example,  tha 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Celtic) 


(575 


term  pegor,  used  for  '  a  pygmy,'  and  for  the  fabulous  dwellers 
in  submarine  regions  (Bl.  Book  of  Carmarthen,  Poem  v.  1.  4) — 
a  term  found  also  in  Dafydd  ab  Gwilym  (Poem  lxv.)— is  one  of 
a  neutral  type  ;  and  so  is  corr,  '  a  dwarf ' — a  word  which  occurs 
several  times  in  the  Mabinogion.  In  some  cases  a  corr  is 
represented  as  acting  in  a  brutal  and  churlish  manner  (as  in 
the  story  of  Geraint  and  Enid),  but  in  the  story  of  Peredur 
the  narrator  appears  to  view  the  dwarf  and  his  wife  sym- 
pathetically. The  name  of  the  mythical  tribe  called  the 
Coraniaid,  in  the  story  of  Lludd  and  Llevelys,  probably  means 
'the  pygmies,'  and  they  are  certainly  represented  as  intellectu- 
ally acute  but  morally  malicious. 

Side  by  side  with  these  beings  of  neutral  or  variable  disposi- 
tion, Welsh  folk-lore  in  the  Middle  Ages,  like  that  of  Ireland, 
deals  with  certain  types  of  beings  that  can  only  be  regarded  as 
'demons*  in  the  ordinary  English  sense.  The  term  ellyll,  for 
example,  appears  to  be  nowhere  used  in  Welsh  literature  in  a 
good  sense.'  In  the  Welsh  triads  (Ox/.  Mab.,  1887,  pp.  306, 
306)  there  are  references  to  ellyllon  (pi.  of  ellyll),  called  '  the 
three  forest-demons  of  the  Isle  of  Britain  '  and  '  the  three  stag- 
demons  of  the  Isle  of  Britain,'  but  the  precise  significance  of 
these  names  is  not  explained.  In  some  of  the  instances  given, 
the  word  ellyll  is  followed  by  a  personal  name,  as  in  the  phrase 
ellyll  Gwidawl  ('  the  demon  of  Gwidawl').  It  is  possible  that, 
originally,  the  term  ellyll,  in  expressions  such  as  these,  may 
have  denoted  a  person's  '  familiar  spirit.'  In  Dafydd  ab  Gwilym, 
ellyllon  are  represented  as  '  wry-mouthed '  (mingeimion),  as 
haunting  dingles,  and  as  being  foul  and  ill-grown.  This  picture 
of  them  is  implied  in  the  description  of  the  owl  as  ellylles  adar 
('the  female  demon  of  birds').  The  same  writer  has  another 
term  for  a  certain  kind  of  goblin  or  ghost,  namely  bwbach — a 
term  which  clearly  implied  an  object  of  terror.  He  calls  his 
shadow,  for  instance,  '  a  goblin  (biobach)  in  the  form  of  a  bald 
monk,'  while,  further,  he  uses  the  verb  bwbaehu  in  the  sense 
of  '  to  frighten  as  a  ghost.'  A  term  used  for  a  kind  of  female 
demon  by  Dafydd  ab  Gwilym  and  others  is  Y  Ddera  (probably 
meaning  originally  '  the  red  one,'  dera  being  phonetically 
equivalent  to  Ir.  derg,  '  red ').  For  ghosts,  too,  the  term 
gwylliaid  appears  to  be  used  by  thiB  poet  (e.g.  in  Poem  clix.), 
but  the  more  usual  mediaeval  term  is  gvryllon.  This  term 
appears  to  have  been  used  for  'the  ghosts  of  the  dead'  (Bl. 
Book  of  Carmarthen,  Poem  i.  1.  35).  The  departed  spirits  of 
warriors  seem  to  have  been  proverbially  associated,  even  in 
niediasval  Wales,  with  the  Caledonian  forest  (ib.  1.  36  ;  also, 
ib.  Poem  xvii.  1.  67).  In  a  Welsh  mediaeval  poet,  Llywarch  ab 
Llywelyn  (Myvyrian  ArchaiologyV,  Denbigh,  1870,  p.  212a), 
there  is  an  allusion  to  gwyllon  Kelyddon  ('the  ghost  of  Cale- 
donia'), as  if  this  were  a  proverbial  expression,  and,  when 
Arthur  is  represented  as  making  an  expedition  (in  the  story  of 
Kulhwch  and  Olwen)  to  the  '  wild  land  of  hell,'  he  is  described 
as  going  to  the  North. 

The  abodes  of  the  supernatural  beings  here 
described  are,  in  the  main,  located  in  Annwfn  or 
Annwn — a  term  most  probably  derived  from  an-, 
'  not,'  and  dwfn  (cognate  with  Ir.  domuri),  '  the 
world.'  The  dominant  conception  of  Annwfn, 
therefore,  was  as  a  kind  of  magical  counterpart  of 
this  world,  and  the  Welsh  mind  in  the  Middle 
Ages  associated  with  it  the  idea  of  illusion  and 
want  of  substantiality.  Dafydd  ab  Gwilym, 
speaking  of  a  mirror  as  fragile  and  perishable, 
says  of  it  that  it  was  constructed  by  fairies 
(hudolion),  and  other  references  by  him  of  the 
same  type  point  in  a  similar  direction.  Hence, 
Annwfn  appears  to  have  meant  '  a  world  which  is 
no  world.'  Annwfn  was  usually  regarded  as  being 
located  beneath  the  earth,  but  certain  poems  of 
the  Book  of  Taliessin  (14th  cent.)  appear  to  regard 
it  as  consisting  of  a  cluster  of  islands,  to  which 
Arthur  journeys  in  his  ship  Prydwen.  One  poem 
in  the  same  MS  calls  it '  Annwfn  beneath  the  world ' 
(is  eluyd),  and  in  keeping  with  this  is  the  descrip- 
tion of  it  by  Dafydd  ab  Gwilym  as  '  the  deep  land 
of  Annwfn,  to  which  the  Summer  is  said  to  have 
gone  during  the  months  of  Winter.  According  to 
the  story  of  Pwyll,  Prince  of  Dyfed,  Annwfn  was 
divided  into  kingdoms,  whose  boundaries  were 
sometimes  streams,  as  in  the  upper  world.  Inter- 
relations and  inter-marriage  were  conceived  as 
possible  between  the  beings  of  the  two  worlds,  and 
the  boons  of  human  civilization,  at  any  rate  in  the 
form  of  swine,  were  thought  to  have  come  into 
the  actual  world  from  Annwfn.  The  relations, 
however,  between  the  two  worlds  were  not  always 
necessarily  amicable,  and,  just  as  heroes  from  the 
actual  world  might  make  expeditions  into  Annwfn, 

1  In  the  current  folk-lore  of  some  Welsh  districts  it  appears 
that  even  an  ellyll  can  be  conciliated  and  made  to  bestow 
prosperity,  if  the  candle  is  left  burning  on  going  to  bed  (Wirt 
Sikes,  British  Goblins,  p.  16). 


so  beings  from  Annwfn  might  make  raids  upon 
this  world.  Such  a  raid  appears  in  mediaeval 
Welsh  to  have  been  called  gormes  (lit.  '  an  over- 
flow,' then  '  oppression ').  Certain  raids  of  this  kind 
are  suggested  in  various  parts  of  the  Mabinogion  ; 
for  example,  in  the  carrying  away  of  the  infant 
Pryderi,  in  the  raid  upon  Teyrnon's  foals,  in  the 
narrative  of  Manawyddan  and  the  mice,  and  in 
the  story  of  Lludd  and  Llevelys,  as  well  as  in 
the  stealing  of  Mabon,  son  of  Modron,  from  his 
mother.  In  these  raids  certain  fabulous  packs  of 
hounds  took  part,  which  are  sometimes  called 
Cwn  Annwfn  ('the  dogs  of  Annvrfn '),  and,  by 
Dafydd  ab  Gwilym,  Cum  gormes  (Poem  xliv.). 
There  appear  to  be  no  beings  of  the  vampire  type 
among  the  supernatural  beings  of  Irish  and  Welsh 
mediaeval  legend,  but  in  Breton  stories  the  wer- 
wolf (bisclavaret)  seems  to  have  played  a  part  even 
in  mediaeval  times. 

3.  Demons  and  spirits  in  Celtic  lands  to-day. — 
In  the  remoter  parts  of  Ireland,  Scotland,  Wales, 
and  Brittany  there  is  still  a  considerable  survival 
of  the  older  psychological  attitude,  especially  in 
the  sphere  of  the  emotions,  towards  the  super- 
natural beings  of  which  Celtic  folk-lore  treats. 
The  teaching  of  Christianity,  whether  by  Roman 
Catholics,  Anglicans,  Presbyterians,  or  other  re- 
ligious denominations,  for  example,  as  to  the  lot 
of  the  dead,  runs  entirely  counter  to  the  belief  in 
ghosts  that  are  free  to  wander  at  random  among 
the  living ;  nevertheless,  the  fear  of  ghosts  is  a 
very  real  terror  to  many  people,  after  nightfall,  in 
Celtic  as  in  other  countries.  So  far  as  the  period 
of  daylight  is  concerned,  the  older  frame  of  mind 
may,  with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  least  progressive  Celtic  regions,  be 
said  to  have  been  completely  modified  through 
education  and  experience.  With  the  advent  of 
darkness,  however,  this  older  frame  of  mind  tends 
to  assert  itself  in  consciousness — not,  perhaps,  so 
as  to  produce  beliefs  which  their  holder  would 
regard  as  justifiable,  but  to  a  sufficient  extent  to 
perturb  the  emotions,  especially  in  the  presence  of 
some  uncanny  or  weird-looking  object.  In  Ireland 
and  the  more  secluded  parts  of  the  Highlands 
and  Islands,  there  has  been,  on  the  whole,  less  of 
a  breach  of  continuity  with  mediaeval  times  than 
in  Wales  ;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  Brittany. 
Hence  the  beliefs  of  the  Middle  Ages  form  sub- 
stantially the  ground-work  of  the  present-day 
attitude  towards  demons  and  spirits  as  it  prevails 
in  those  regions.  The  Isle  of  Man,  too,  may  be 
regarded  as  belonging,  in  the  main,  to  the  same 
psychological  zone  as  Ireland.  In  the  latter  it  is 
the  'Fairies'  still,  as  in  the  Middle  Ages,  that  are 
the  chief  supernatural  beings  of  the  type  here 
considered  ;  but,  side  by  side  with  them,  there 
subsists,  in  Ireland  as  elsewhere,  the  belief  in  the 
re-appearance  of  the  ghosts  of  the  departed,  and 
also  in  the  appearance  of  fabulous  creatures,  such 
as  the  Pu^a,  the  Leprachaun,  the  Water-bull,  the 
Water-horse,  and  the  like  (see  T.  Crofton  Croker, 
Fairy  Legends).  As  to  Gaelic  Scotland,  there  is 
abundant  material  for  the  student  of  the  modern 
Celtic  mind  in  Campbell's  Tales  of  the  W.  Highlands. 

These  tales  describe  such  beings  as  the  glashan  (the  Manx 
glashtyn),  which  was  a  hirsute  sprite  that  rebelled  against 
clothing,  and,  in  this  respect,  resembled  the  gruagach,  a 
similar  sprite  from  Skipness.  One  of  the  tales  (no.  100)  describes 
an  underground  world  of  giants,  and  an  earlier  tale  (no.  98) 
similarly  points  to  a  belief  in  gigantic  beings.  Another  tale 
(no.  38)  speaks  of  a  monstrous  being  called  Eitidh  MacCallain, 
'  who  had  one  hand  growing  out  of  his  chest,  one  leg  out  of  his 
haunch,  and  one  eye  out  of  the  front  of  his  face.'  Other 
tales  describe  fairies,  sleeping  giants,  flying  ladies,  mermaids, 
brownies,  and  the  like,  while  not  a  few  of  the  stories  speak  of 
such  beings  as  the  Water-horse  or  Water-kelpie  (sometimes 
transformed  into  a  man),  the  Water-bull,  the  Water-bird  called 
the  Boobrie  (said  to  inhabit  the  fresh-water  and  sea  lochs  of 
Argyllshire),  dragons  (thought  to  haunt  Highland  lochs),  and 
the  Water-spirit  called  the  1  ougha.    The  Water-bull  is  generally 


676 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Chinese) 


represented  as  the  foe  of  the  Water-horse  and  the  friend  of 
man.  There  are  also  stories  of  demons  appearing  as  goats  and 
dogs.  It  will  readily  be  seen  how  this  mass  of  Gaelic  folk-lore 
has  been  coloured  by  the  geographical  conditions  of  the  Western 
Highlands,  and  what  is  here  true  of  the  folk-lore  of  the  High- 
lands is  true  of  the  folk-lore  of  all  Celtic  countries.  In  the  Isle 
of  Man  the  same  essential  beliefs  are  found  as  in  the  Western 
Highlands.  The  island  had  her  fairies  and  her  giants,  her 
mermen,  her  brownies,  her  Water-bulls,  and  her  Water-kelpies 
or  Water-colts.  The  Water-bull  (tarroo  ushtey)  haunts  pools 
and  swamps,  and  is  the  parent  of  strangely  formed  beasts  and 
monsters.  The  Water-kelpie  has  the  form  of  a  grey  colt,  and 
wanders  over  the  banks  of  the  streams  at  night.  The  Manx 
name  for  a  giant  is  foawr  (from  the  same  root  as  the  Ir. 
fomhor).  For  a  brownie  the  Manx  name  is  fenodyree,  and  this 
being  appears  to  resemble  the  Welsh  ellyll  in  being  a  hairy  and 
clumsy  creature.  There  are  also  in  Manx  folk-lore  beings  called 
glaistig  and  glaisrig  respectively.lthe  former  being  a  she-goblin, 
which  takes  the  form  of  a  goat,  while  the  latter  is  described  as 
a  female  fairy  or  a  goblin,  half-human,  half-beast.  The  nearest 
approach  to  a  vampire  in  Celtic  folk-lore  is  the  Water-colt, 
which  is  thoroughly  vicious,  and  sucks  the  blood  of  maidens. 
Possibly  to  the  Water-colt  should  be  added  certain  Welsh  fairies 
said  to  eat  infants  (Rhys,  Celtic  Folklore,  ii.  673). 

In  Wales,  the  firm  stand  made  against  all  forms 
of  superstition  by  the  strong  Protestantism  of 
the  country,  especially  since  Nonconformity  has 
penetrated  into  every  corner  of  the  Principality, 
has,  to  a  very  great  extent,  shattered  to  pieces  the 
mental  attitude  towards  the  Other-world  which 
we  find  so  clearly  represented  in  the  Mabinogion 
and  in  Dafydd  ab  Gwilym  ;  but  in  remote  districts, 
such  as  the  Lleyn  district  of  Carnarvonshire  anil 
the  Welsh  parts  of  Pembrokeshire,  as  well  as  in 
the  more  secluded  portions  of  other  counties,  the 
old  spirit  still  prevails  among  the  unlettered,  and 
not  a  few  people  retain  a  kind  of  working  belief 
in  the  beings  that  may  be  roughly  classified  as 
demons  and  spirits.  The  spirits  of  the  dead  (called 
bwganod  and  ysbrydion)  are  still  feared  in  such 
districts,1  and  tales  concerning  them  abound. 
Every  uncanny-looking  portion  of  a  lane  has  its 
ghost,  and  from  caves  they  are  rarely  absent. 
Fairies  are  still  known  in  most  regions  of  Wales  as 
Y  tylwyth  teg,  but  the  term  Annum  has  gone  out 
of  use,  except  in  the  expression  Cum  Annum,  'the 
dogs  of  Annwn.'  In  Pembrokeshire,  fairies  were 
even  in  the  19th  cent,  supposed  to  attend  the 
markets  at  Milford  Haven  and  Laugharne.  For 
ghosts  the  term  used  in  some  districts  is  bwgan, 
while  in  others  the  terms  in  use  are  bwci  and 
bwbach.  It  is  not  improbable  that  one  old  term 
was  buga,  which  is  found  in  the  Welsh  name  of 
the  town  of  Usk  in  Monmouthshire — Brynbuga ; 
while,  in  Glamorganshire,  the  name  seems  to  take 
the  form  bica,  found  in  the  farm  name  Ty  Fica 
('the  house  of  Bica').  The  Welsh  word  coblyn, 
used  especially  of  the  sprites  that  are  thought  to 
haunt  mines,  is  merely  a  modification  of  the 
English  '  goblin ' ;  while  pwca  is  simply  the  English 
Puck — a  name  found  as  that  of  the  glen  of  Cwm 
Pwca,  a  part  of  the  vale  of  the  Clydach  in  Brecon- 
shire.  Ellyllon  are  still  thought  to  haunt  groves 
and  valleys,  and  bwyd  ellyllon  ('demons'  food')  is 
the  Welsh  name  for  the  poisonous  toad-stool,  just 
as  menyg  ellyllon  ('demons'  gloves')  is  a  name  for 
the  foxglove.  The  term  ellylldan  ('  demons'  fire') 
is  also  used  for  '  the  will-o'-the-wisp.'  In  the 
Lleyn  district  of  Carnarvonshire  a  certain  fiery 
apparition  is  said  to  take  the  form  of  'a  wheel 
within  a  wheel  of  fire.'  The  relation  of  fairies, 
sprites,  and  goblins  with  human  beings  are 
described  in  various  folk-lore  tales,  for  which  the 
reader  may  consult  the  works  of  Sir  John  Rhys 
and  Wirt  Sikes  (see  Literature  at  end  of  art.). 

Among  the  names  used  for  certain  of  the  supernatural  beings 
here  under  consideration  are  Bendith  y  Maman,  '  the  mothers' 
blessing';  Gwragedd  Anmvn,  'elfin  dames';  Plant  Annum, 
'  elfin  children  ' ;  Plant  Rhys  Ddwfn,  '  the  children  of  deep 
Rhys ' ;  Gwrach  y  Rhibyn,  a  kind  of  Welsh  banshee  ;  Cyhyraelh, 
a  kind  of  dreadful  and  doleful  moan  in  the  night,  proceeding 
from  an  invisible  source  ;  Tolaeth,  the  imitation  of  some  earthly 

1  There  is  no  trace  in  the  Welsh  literature  or  folk-lore  of  any 
belief  that  the  dead  bodies  themselves  rise  from  their  graves 
And  haunt  the  living. 


sound,  such  as  sawing,  singing,  or  the  tramping  of  feet ;  Cum 
y  Wybr  (also  known  as  Cum  Annum),  dogs  that  haunt  the  air ; 
Aderyn  y  Corph,  a  bird  which  appears  as  a  foreteller  of  death  ; 
Toelu,  a  phantom  funeral ;  Y  Fad  Felen,  the  yellow  plague ; 
and  Malli  y  nos,  a  night-fiend.1  Among  the  forms  which  the 
Welsh  imagination  has  assigned  to  spectres  have  been  a  fiery 
ball,  a  black  calf,  an  ass,  a  dog,  a  round  ball,  a  roaring  flame,  a 
bull,  a  goose,  a  mastiff,  a  gosling.  One  type  of  female  demon 
is  described  as  being  '  a  hideous  creature  with  dishevelled  hair, 
long  black  teeth,  long,  lank,  withered  arms,  leathern  wings,  and 
a  cadaverous  appearance.'  The  appearance  of  this  being  was 
always  regarded  as  an  omen  of  death.  In  Welsh  folk-lore,  as  in 
that  of  the  Gaelic  world,  there  are  stories  of  water-monsters, 
more  especially  of  the  afanc,  which  is  usually  regarded  in  Wales 
as  a  kind  of  crocodile,  but  which  was  originally,  in  the  opinion 
of  Sir  John  Rhys,  a  kind  of  monster  in  human  form,  aB  is 
suggested  by  the  Irish  cognate  abhac. 

In  Wales,  as  elsewhere  where  a  belief  in  demons 
and  spirits  is  found,  certain  effective  barriers 
could,  it  was  thought,  be  placed  to  their  male- 
volence and  capacity  for  mischief.  One  check  to 
them  was  piety,  others  were  the  possession  of  a 
black-handled  knife  (iron  being  a  source  of  great 
terror  to  fairies),  the  turning  of  one's  coat  inside 
out,  the  pronunciation  of  the  Divine  name,  the 
crowing  of  a  cock,  change  in  one's  place  of  resi 
dence,  and — last  but  not  least — a  barrier  of  furze, 
through  which,  on  account  of  its  prickly  nature,  it 
was  thought  that  fairies  and  similar  beings  could 
not  penetrate.  In  Brittany  substantially  the  same 
conceptions  of  demons  and  spirits  prevailed  as  in 
Wales;  but,  while  Welshmen  have  to  a  great 
extent  abandoned  the  attitude  of  intellectual 
assent  to  the  legends  in  question,  the  more  con- 
servative Breton,  with  his  closer  attachment  to 
mediaeval  conditions,  is  still  often  haunted  by 
them,  and  probably  will  be  for  a  long  time  to 
come.  In  Wales,  it  is  not  impossible  that,  before 
very  long,  these  ancient  relics  of  primitive  belief 
will  be  things  of  the  past;  but  in  the  remoter 
parts  of  Ireland  and  Scotland  they  will  probably 
linger  on  for  many  generations. 

Literature. — J.  Rhys,  Celtic  Folklore,  Welsk  and  Manx, 
Oxford,  1901 ;  J.  G.  Frazer,  GB%,  London,  1900 ;  E.  Anwyl, 
Celtic  Religion,  London,  1906,  also  art.  'Celtic  Goddesses,'  in 
CeR,  July  1906,  and  'Ancient  Celtic  Deities,'  in  Trans.  Gael. 
Soc,  Inverness,  1906 ;  A.  le  Braz,  La  Ligende  de  la  mort  en 
Basse  Bretagne,  Paris,  1S93 ;  J.  F.  Campbell,  Popular  Tales 
of  the  West  Highlands,  Edinburgh,  1860-2;  J.  G.  Dalyell, 
The  Darker  Superstitions  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh,  1834 ;  W. 
Howells,  Cambrian  Superstitions,  Tipton,  1831 ;  Edmund 
Jones,  Account  of  the  Parish  of  Aberysti'uth  (Mon.),  Trevecka, 
1779,  also  Spirits  in  the  County  of  Monmouth,  Newport,  1813 ; 
Elias  Owen,  Welsh  Folklore,  Oswestry  and  Wrexham,  1896 ; 
P.  Sebillot,  Traditions  et  superstitions  de  la  Haute  Bretagne, 
Paris,  1882  ;  Wirt  Sikes,  British  Goblins,  London,  1880 ;  Nutt- 
Meyer,  Voyage  of  Bran,  2  vols.,  London,  1895-97;  E.  S.  Hart- 
land,  The  Science  of  Fairy  Tales,  London,  1891 ;  P.  W.  Joyce, 
Social  Hist,  of  Ancient  Ireland,  2  vols.,  London,  1903 ;  T. 
Crofton  Croker,  Fairy  Legends  and  Traditions  of  the  South 
of  Ireland,  ed.  T.  Wright,  London,  1870.         E.  AnWYL. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Chinese).— The 
two  words  kuei  shen  (variously  translated  'demons 
and  spirits,' or  'demons  and  gods' — the  variation 
indicating  a  vexed  question  in  the  tr.  of  Chinese 
religious  terms)  together  make  up  a  binomial 
phrase  such  as  does  duty  in  Chinese  for  a  general 
term,  and  may  be  taken  as  denoting  all  the  in- 
habitants of  the  spiritual  world,  the  various  objects 
of  religious  worship  and  superstitious  fear. 

The  spiritual  world  lies  very  near  to  the  average 
Chinaman.  Signs  of  his  belief  in  its  influence  on 
his  daily  life  are  frequent ;  and  it  gives  one  at  times 
a  shock  of  surprise  to  find,  as  may  happen  in  a 
casual  conversation,  that  one's  interlocutor — a  well- 
read  scholar  or  shrewd  merchant — holds  firmly  by 
conceptions  of  it  which  are  to  oneself  grotesque. 
Its  nomenclature  is  fairly  extensive,  but  not  pre- 
cise. Nor  is  it  easy  to  describe  the  spiritual  world 
in  any  very  orderly  or  consistent  fashion.  Allow- 
ance must  be  made  not  only  for  differences  in  local 
superstitions,  but  also  for  the  intermingling  of 
diverse  strains  of  thought  in  the  more  generally 

-  In  Carnarvonshire  one  particularly  malevolent  type  of 
demon  is  called  Y  Bodach  Glas,  'the  blue  goblin.' 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Chinese) 


577 


diffused  religious  conceptions.  While  it  is  possible 
that  Chinese  religion  started  from  a  pure  mono- 
theism, we  have  no  record  of  any  such  time.  In 
the  most  ancient  hooks  the  worship  of  Shang-ti 
is  accompanied  by  the  worship  of  natural  objects, 
of  the  spirits  of  ancestors,  and  of  the  worthies  of 
former  times.  All  these  elements  have  been  con- 
tinued and  developed. 

In  the  popular  religion  of  to-day,  the  worship  of 
spirits  immanent  in,  or  in  some  vaguely  conceived 
way  connected  with,  natural  objects,  takes  a  much 
larger  place  than  can  possibly  be  taken  by  the  wor- 
ship of  Shang-ti,  confined  as  this  is  to  the  Emperor. 
The  number  of  such  spirits  is,  strictly  speaking, 
indefinite.  In  virtue  of  the  spiritual  efficacy  con- 
nected with  it,  anything — rock,  tree,  living  creature 
— may  become  an  object  of  worship.  No  extra- 
ordinary feature  in  the  object  is  necessary  to  call 
forth  this  religious  observance — a  whole  town  has 
been  kDown  to  go  after  a  common  viper  found  in  a 
bundle  of  firewood.  Among  the  commonest  signs 
of  the  lecognition  of  such  spiritual  powers  bound 
up  with  natural  objects  are  the  votive  tablets  fre- 
quently 6een  suspended  from  the  branches  of  trees, 
and  the  small  pillars  which  are  erected  alongside 
graves  and  inscribed  to  the  spirit  of  the  soil,  in 
acknowledgment  of  his  property  in  the  site  of  the 
grave.  Some  such  acknowledgment  is  due  to  the 
local  genius,  on  any  interference  with  what  is 
supposed  to  be  under  his  control.  It  is  a  moot 
question  whether  the  spirit  of  the  soil  is  one  only, 
identified  with  Hou-t'u,  one  of  the  ministers  of 
Huang  Ti  (2698  B.C.),  or  whether  there  are  not, 
rather,  at  least  in  the  popular  mind,  many  local 
genii. 

Alongside  of  such  spirits,  and  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  scale  of  spirits  hardly  to  he  distinguished  from 
them,  are  the  supernatural  beings  called  hsien,  yao, 
kuei,  ching  ('fairies,'  'elves,'  'goblins,'  'sprites'), 
of  various  kinds,  harmless,  or,  more  usually, 
mischievous  and  malevolent.  Every  locality  has 
its  own  traditions  with  regard  to  such  beings.  In 
Swatow  the  morning  watch  is  not  sounded  because 
of  a  '  kelpie '  (yao-ching)  in  the  harbour,  which  on 
hearing  the  watch-drum  was  wont  to  carry  off  any 
early-stirring  inhabitant.  Of  living  creatures  it  is 
said  that  in  the  south  of  China  the  serpent,  and 
in  the  north  the  fox,  are  those  round  which  belief 
in  supernatural  powers  has  mostly  gathered.  In 
general  it  is  said  that  birds  and  animals  when  they 
grow  old  become  sprites  (ching).  The  fox,  for 
instance,  increases  in  supernatural  qualities  with 
increase  of  years,  and  possesses  different  powers 
at  fifty  years  of  age  or  a  hundred  or  a  thousand. 
Even  of  trees  it  is  said  that  by  long  absorption  of 
the  subtle  essences  of  heaven  and  earth  they  become 
possessed  of  supernatural  qualities. 

Besides  these  supernatural  beings,  and  wholly 
impersonal,  are  the  maleficent  influences  called  sha. 
They  move,  like  physical  forces,  in  straight  lines, 
and  can  be  warded  off  in  various  ways,  as  by 
earthenware  figures  of  lions  set  on  the  roof  of  a 
house  or  in  other  positions  of  vantage,  or  by  a  stone 
or  tile  placed  at  a  road-end  and  inscribed  with  the 
' Eight  Diagrams '  (see  Cosmogont,  etc.  [Chin.]),  or 
with  words  intimating  that,  as  a  stone  from  the 
Thai  mountain,  it  will  resist  the  evil  influences. 

According  to  Chinese  etymology,  the  word  kuei, 
'  demons,'  is  connected  with  a  word  of  similar  sound 
meaning  '  to  return,'  and  a  kuei  is  accordingly  de- 
fined as  the  spirit  of  a  man  which  has  returned  from 
this  visible  world  to  the  world  invisible.  '  Alive  a 
man,  dead  a  kuei '  is  a  proverbial  saying.  In  such 
use  of  the  word  kuei  we  must  remember  that  nothing 
derogatory  is  implied,  and  that  '  departed  spirit ' 
rather  than  '  demon '  is  the  proper  translation. 
There  seems  to  be  no  possibility  of  making  consistent 
with  themselves  the  various  popular  Chinese  views 
vol.  iv. — 37 


of  the  spiritual  nature  of  man  and  his  state  after 
death  :  to  determine,  e.g.,  the  relation  of  the  kuei  to 
the  three  souls  which  each  man  possesses,  accord- 
ing to  Taoist  teaching,  or,  according  to  another 
theory,  to  the  twofold  soul  which  dissolves  at  death 
into  its  component  parts.  In  any  case,  existence  in 
some  fashion  after  death  is  assumed.  Whether 
such  existence  is  necessarily  or  in  all  cases  immortal, 
it  is  not  easy  to  determine.  Taoism  may  teach  an 
eternity  of  punishment ;  but,  on  theother  hand,  there 
is  a  word  chi,  which  means  the  death  of  a  kuei. 

Kuei  (manes)  are  to  be  honoured  in  the  appropriate 
way  ;  and,  as  otherwise  evil  may  be  expected  from 
them,  fear  has  a  large  place  in  present-day  ancestral 
worship.  Each  family  worships  the  manes  of  its 
own  ancestors.  Manes  otherwise  unprovided  for 
are  placated  by  public  rites,  particularly  by  '  the 
feast  of  desolate  ghosts,'  the  'kuei  feast,'  on  the 
15th  of  the  7th  moon.  All  kuei  are  more  or  less 
objects  of  dread ;  but  in  particular  the  kuei  of  a 
wronged  person  may  be  expected  to  seek  revenge 
('the  wronged  ghost  impedes  the  murderer's  steps'), 
and  the  kuei  of  evil  men  are  evil  kuei.  According 
to  one  popular  representation,  the  other  world  is 
for  the  Chinaman  at  least  a  replica  of  the  Chinese 
Empire  with  similar  social  gradations,  however, 
allotted  otherwise  than  in  this  upper  world  ;  and 
mourning  relatives  may  be  comforted  by  a  sooth- 
sayer's assurance  that  the  meritorious  deceased 
has  been  appointed  by  Yii  Ti  a  mandarin  of  such 
and  such  a  grade  in  the  shadowy  double  of  this  or 
that  Chinese  city.  Moreover,  however  difficult  to 
work  in  consistently  with  other  views,  the  doctrine 
of  transmigration  holds  a  large  place  in  a  China- 
man's theory  of  the  relation  between  the  unseen 
world  and  this. 

While  a  kuei  is,  strictly  speaking,  a  departed 
spirit,  it  is  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  all  the  in- 
numerable kuei  imagined  to  be  active  in  this  world 
or  as  retributive  executioners  in  the  infernal 
regions  are  of  this  origin.  Perhaps  what  we  might 
distinguish  as  ghosts  and  demons  are  alike  called 
kuei.  The  Chinese  generally  are  obsessed  by  the 
fear  of  kuei.  These  are  supposed  to  abound  every- 
where, and  to  be  specially  active  at  night.  Any  un- 
toward happening  or  uncanny  sound — particularly 
any  sound  that  is  thin  and  shrill — is  ascribed  to 
them.  Many  houses  are  reported  to  be  haunted 
by  kuei  because  of  misfortunes  befalling  their 
inmates.  There  are  appropriate  ceremonies  for 
the  placating  of  offended  kuei,  who  in  such  cases 
are  addressed  euphemistically  (e.g.  Sheng  jSn, 
'  Sagely  person ') ;  and  they  can  also  be  controlled 
by  charms  of  Taoist  origin. 

The  spiritual  world  is  peopled  from  the  human 
race  not  only  by  '  departed  spirits '  but  by  inhabit- 
ants of  another  grade  called  hsien.  This  name  is 
applied  not  only  to  the  fairy-like  beings  mentioned 
above,  but  also  to  those  of  mankind  who  '  by  a  pro- 
cess of  physical  or  mental  refinement '  have  raised 
themselves  to  the  rank  of  immortals. 

Finally,  as  in  ancient  times  sages  and  worthies 
were  worshipped  as  tutelary  spirits  (e.g.  Hou-t'u), 
so  has  it  been  in  later  times.  '  The  gods  (shen)  of 
to-day  are  the  men  of  ancient  times '  is  a  common 
proverb.  Thus  the  Chinese  pantheon  has  been 
filled  with  canonized  worthies  (such  as  Kuan  Yii 
[A.D.  219],  canonized  as  Kuan  Ti,  god  of  war ;  and 
the  magician  Chang,  canonized  as  Yii  Ti,  who  is 
practically  the  chief  god  of  the  Taoist  religion) ; 
and  not  only  with  such,  but  also  with  an  ever- 
increasing  number  of  gods  of  all  kinds  and  grades. 
'  The  pope  does  not  canonize  on  so  large  a  scale  as 
the  Emperor  of  China '  (Legge,  Bel.  of  China,  p.  184). 
These  are  the  idols  of  China  whose  temples  and 
images  are  everywhere  to  be  seen. 

While  the  multiplication  of  deities  and  the  per- 
vasive dread  of  demons  are  mainly  connected  with 


678 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Christian) 


the  Taoist  strain  in  Chinese  religion,  the  influence 
of  Buddhism  has  been  potent  in  its  development. 
'  The  religion  of  Taoism  was  begotten  by  Buddhism 
out  of  the  olr1  Chinese  superstitions '  (Legge,  op.  cit. 
p.  201).  Directly  Buddhist  elements  are  also  of 
course  present.  Shen,  kuei,  hsien,  fo  ('gods,' 
'demons,'  'genii,'  'Buddhas')  are  the  four  orders 
of  beings  superior  to  man ;  and,  to  instance  from 
both  the  upper  and  the  nether  regions,  Kuan  Yin, 
the  Goddess  of  Mercy,  and  Yen  Wang,  the  King  of 
Hades,  are  both  of  Buddhist  extraction. 

One  extraordinary  feature  of  the  Chinese  view 
of  the  spiritual  world  is  the  power  believed  to  be 
exercised  over  its  inhabitants  by  the  Taoist  priest- 
hood, and  specially  by  the  Taoist  pope,  the  spiritual 
successor  (by  the  soul's  transmigration)  of  Chang 
Tao-ling  (A.D.  34).  Demons  and  spirits  unsub- 
missive to  ordinary  Taoist  spells  are  subject  to 
him ;  and  from  him  protection  against  them  may 
he  purchased.  In  a  case  reported  to  the  present 
writer,  a  merchant  in  Chao-Chow-foo,  whose  house 
wAshaunted  by  a  spectre,  wentseveral  days' journey 
to  see  the  pope,  and  for  $200  purchased  relief  from 
the  spectre's  presence ;  for  $300  he  might  have  had 
it  recalled  altogether  from  the  world  of  men. 

Mention  should  be  made  of  demon  possession, 
where  the  subject  is  possessed  by  a  demon  causing 
disease  or  madness,  and  of  spirit-mediums  inspired 
by  an  idol-spirit  and  who  utter  oracles  in  his  name. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  incoherence  of  the  whole 
spiritual  system  of  the  Chinese,  it  may  be  noted 
that,  while  the  Emperor  is  the  source  of  canoniza- 
tion, the  exposition  of  the  seventh  maxim  of  the 
Sacred  Edict  not  only  brands  Buddhism  and  Taoism 
as  heretical,  but  pours  scorn  on  their  pretensions 
and  superstitions,  and  casts  doubt  on  the  existence 
of  Yii  Ti  himself. 

Literature.— J.  Doolittle,  Social  Life  of  the  Chinese,  New 
York,  1S65  ;  S.  W.  Williams,  The  Middle  Kingdom,  New  York, 
1876,  ch.  xviii. ;  J.  Legge,  The  Religions  of  China,  London, 
1880;  H.  A.  Giles,  Strange  Stories  from  a  Chinese  Studio, 
London,  1880 :  F.  W.  Bailer,  The  Sacred  Edict,  Shanghai, 
1892 ;  J.  L.  Nevius,  Demon  Possession  and  Allied  Themes, 
Chicago,  1897.  p.  J.  MACLAGAN. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Christian).— I. 
In  the  Early  Church  to  Council  ofChalce- 
DON  (A.D.  451). — It  is  stated  by  Origen  (de  Princip., 
procem.)  that  the  Primitive  Church  did  not  lay 
down  any  definite  doctrine  with  regard  to  the 
nature  of  the  angels.  The  Church,  however,  he 
tells  us,  asserts  their  existence  and  defines  the 
nature  of  their  service  as  ministers  of  God  for  the 
purpose  of  promoting  the  salvation  of  men  (ib.). 
Other  early  writers  are  not  equally  reticent.  Some 
information  concerning  good  and  evil  spirits  may 
be  gained  even  from  the  earliest  Christian  writers. 

I.  Apostolic  Fathers.— (a)  Clement  of  Borne, 
exhorting  those  to  whom  he  writes  to  zeal  and 
well-doing,  points  his  readers  to  the  example  of  the 
whole  host  of  God's  angels  who  stand  by,  minis- 
tering to  His  will  (Ep.  i.  ad  Cor.  xxxiv.  5).— (6)  In 
Ignatius  we  find  the  statement  that  the  heavenly 
beings  (tTrovpavia),  including  the  S(S£a  rS>v  dyy^\uv, 
will  receive  judgment  if  they  believe  not  in  Christ 
(Smyrn.  6).  There  is  a  further  reference  in  Trail. 
5,  where  Ignatius  claims  to  be  able  to  understand 
the  heavenly  things,  and  the  dispositions  of  the 
angels.1 — (c)  In  the  Letter  of  the  Smyrnceans  on 
the  Martyrdom  of  Polycarp,  it  is  stated  that 
the  martyrs  '  gazed  with  the  eyes  of  their  heart  on 
the  good  things  reserved  for  those  that  endure, 
but  already  shown  to  them  by  the  Lord  ;  for  they 
were  no  longer  meli,  but  already  angels '  (Mart. 
Polyc.  ii.).      It  is  also  said  in  the  same  chapter 

1  It  should  be  noted  that  in  the  longer  recension  the  latter 
passage  is  amplified  in  a  manner  consistent  with  the  more  de- 
veloped doctrine  of  pseudo-Ignatius  (ct.  Ap.  Const,  viii.  12), 
while  the  former  passage  is  omitted  as  possibly  inconsistent 
with  his  doctrine. 


that  they  were  condemned  to  their  torture  that 
the  devil  might,  if  possible,  bring  them  to  a  denial, 
for  he  had  tried  many  wiles  against  them  (cf.  also 
the  Prayer  of  Polycarp,  ib.  xiv.). — (d)  Passing  to 
Hennas,  we  find  that,  in  answer  to  his  inquiry  as 
to  the  nature  of  the  six  young  men  who  are  build- 
ing, he  is  informed  that  they  are  the  holy  angels 
of  God  who  were  created  first,  and  to  whom  the 
Lord  delivered  all  His  creation,  to  increase  and  to 
build  it  and  to  be  masters  of  all  creation  ( Vis.  iii.  4). 
The  doctrine  of  guardian  angels  is  also  taught  by 
Hermas.  Each  man  has  two  angels,  one  of  right- 
eousness and  one  of  wickedness.  He  deals  with 
this  question  at  some  length,  and  states  that  good 
works  are  inspired  by  the  angel  of  righteousness, 
evil  works  by  the  angel  of  wickedness  (Mand. 
vi.  2). — (e)  In  a  quotation  from  Papias,  preserved 
by  Andreas  Csesariensis  (c.  A.D.  520),  we  find  an 
obscure  reference  to  the  work  of  the  angels  : 

1  To  some  of  them  (SijAaSij  rZiv  TraAai  BeluiV  ayyeAtop)  He  gave 
also  to  rule  over  the  ordering  of  the  earth,  and  He  charged 
them  (irapirffviio-ev)  to  rule  well.'  The  words  in  the  first 
brackets  are,  in  Routh's  opinion,  the  insertion  of  Andreas  (cf. 
Reliq.  Sacr.,  1814-18,  i.  14,  and  the  notes,  where  a  further  passage 
is  quoted  from  Cramer). 

2.  The  Apologists. — We  find  a  number  of  pass- 
ages in  the  writings  of  Justin,  Tatian,  Athena- 
goras,  and  Irenseus  bearing  on  the  subject. 

(a)  Justin. — The  most  important  of  these  is  the 
well-known  passage  in  1  Apol.  §  6,  where,  in  refut- 
ing the  charge  of  atheism,  Justin  says  : 

1  But  both  Him  (sc.  the  Father)  and  the  Son  who  came  forth 
from  Him  and  taught  us  these  things,  and  the  host  of  the  other 
good  angels,  who  follow  and  are  made  like  unto  Him,  and  the 
prophetic  Spirit  we  worship  and  adore.' 

The  insertion  of  the  angels  among  the  Persons 
of  the  Trinity  is  unique,  and  is  possibly  to  be  ex- 
plained by  the  fact  that  we  frequently  find  '  angel ' 
as  a  title  of  the  Son  (Tixeront,  Hist,  des  dogmes,  i. 
243).  With  this  passage  should  be  compared  the 
Dial.  c.  Tryph.  §  128,  in  which  the  existence  of 
angels  is  asserted  and  their  relation  to  the  Logos 
discussed.  In  2  Apol.  §  5,  Justin  defines  the  func- 
tions of  the  angels,  stating  that  '  God  committed 
the  care  of  men  and  all  things  under  heaven  to 
angels  whom  He  set  over  these '  (£ra{ ev).  He  then 
accounts  for  the  existence  of  evil  in  the  world  as 
the  result  of  the  transgression  of  angels,  who  had 
'  transgressed  the  Divine  appointment  (rdljiv),  and 
by  sinful  intercourse  with  women  produced  ofl- 
spring  who  are  demons.'  These  demons  '  subdued 
the  human  race  to  themselves  '  and  '  sowed  among 
men  all  manner  of  wickedness.'  He  proceeds  to 
identify  the  demons  who  were  the  offspring  of  the 
fallen  angels  with  the  heathen  gods.  Justin  is  the 
earliest  authority  for  the  cultus  of  angels  (cf.  the  first 
passage  quoted  above,  o-e{36fj.eda  /cat  irpoo-Kvvovpev). 
To  the  passages  already  quoted  may  be  added  Dial, 
c.  Tryph.  §  88,  in  which  the  free  will  of  the  angels 
is  asserted,  and  §  57,  where  it  is  Baid  that,  of  the 
three  men  who  appeared  to  Abraham,  one  was  the 
Logos  and  the  otner  two  angels. 

(o)  Tatian  denies  the  material  nature  of  demons, 
asserting  that  their  constitution  (o-v/j.irr)£is)  is 
spiritual,  as  that  of  fire  or  air.  He  also  states 
that  their  nature  is  incapable  of  repentance  (Orat. 
15,  cf.  12,  20).  The  ministry  of  angels  in  the 
government  of  the  universe  is  also  alluded  to  by 
the  writer  of  the  Ep.  to  Diognetus,  vii. 

(c)  Athenagoras  defines  the  office  of  the  angels 
as  being  that  of  exercising  the  providence  of  God 
over  things  ordered  and  created  by  Him.  God  has 
the  general  providence  of  the  whole  ;  particular 
parts  are  assigned  to  angels  (Apol.  24).  In  the 
same  chapter  he  writes  at  some  length  of  the  fall 
of  certain  of  the  angels,  and  identifies  the  giants 
mentioned  by  the  Greek  poets  with  their  illicit  off- 
spring. He  speaks  of  one  angel  in  particular 
(Satan)  who  is  hostile  to  God,  and  discusses  the 
difficulty  of  this  belief.     He  states  that  Satan  is 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Christian) 


579 


a  created  being  like  other  angels,  and  is  opposed  to 
the  good  that  is  in  God.  In  another  passage  he 
asserts  that  it  is  the  demons  who  incite  men  to 
worship  images,  being  eager  for  the  blood  of 
sacrifice,  these  images  having  no  particular  relation 
to  the  persons  they  represent  (ib.  26  ;  see  further 
reference  to  the  work  of  the  angels  at  the  end  of 
ch.  10). 

(d)  The  writings  of  Irenmus  contain  a  large 
number  of  passages  dealing  with  the  angelology  of 
the  Gnostics,  which  he  refutes.  He  is  himself  of 
opinion  that  the  angels  are  incorporeal  beings 
(adv.  Hmr.  Hi.  22),  and,  in  opposition  to  the 
Gnostics,  states  that  the  Christian  does  (facit) 
nothing  by  their  invocation  (ii.  49.  3).  He  alludes 
to  the  fall  of  the  angels,  and  refers  to  the  domina- 
tion of  Satan  and  the  deliverance  of  man  from  his 
power  (iii.  8.  2  ;  cf.  also  v.  21,  §  3,  and  24,  §§  3,  4). 

3.  Greek  Fathers. — The  doctrine  of  good  and 
evil  spirits  was  greatly  developed  by  the  Alex- 
andrian writers  Clement  and  Origen.  In  the  writ- 
ings of  the  latter,  especially  his  commentaries  on 
Scripture,  numerous  references  are  to  be  found  to 
the  functions  of  angels  and  demons.  The  notion 
of  the  guardian  angel,  already  noted  in  Hernias,  is 
here  especially  developed.  He  assigns  to  each 
nation  its  guardian  spirit,  basing  this  view  upon 
his  exegesis  of  Dt  328'-,  where  he  follows  the  text 
of  the  LXX  (ZaT'qGev  8pia  iBvuiv  Kara  dpidfibv  ayyiXui' 
0eo5).  But  God  reserved  Israel  to  Himself  for  His 
own  inheritance,  appointing  the  angels  as  guardians 
of  the  nations.  The  power  of  these  angels  was 
broken  by  Christ  at  His  coming,  and  hence  they 
were  moved  to  anger,  and  in  turn  stirred  up  per- 
secution against  the  preachers  of  the  gospel  (Orig. 
in  Joh.  xiii.  49).  Origen  understands  literally  the 
'  angels  of  the  churches '  of  the  Apocalypse ;  he 
boldly  (audacter)  refers  to  the  angels  of  churches 
as  their  invisible  bishops  ('  per  singulas  ecclesias 
bini  sunt  episcopi,  alius  visibilis,  alius  invisibilis  ; 
ille  visui  carnis,  hie  sensui  patens'  [horn.  xiii.  in 
Luc.,  ed.  Lommatzsch,  v.  131]).  Each  individual 
has  also  his  guardian  angel,  to  whom  is  entrusted 
the  soul  of  the  believer  when  received  into  the 
Church  by  baptism.  By  him  it  is  protected  from 
the  power  of  the  devil  ;  but,  if  it  falls,  it  loses  the 
protection  of  its  guardian  and  comes  under  the 
power  of  an  evil  angel.  The  angels  present  the 
prayers  of  the  faithful  to  God,  rejoice  at  their  pro- 
gress, correct  their  failings,  and  intercede  for  them 
before  the  throne  of  God.  He  states,  however, 
that  they  should  not  be  worshipped  or  invoked 
(c.  Cels.  v.  5).  Clement  appears  to  have  some 
doubt  as  to  whether  individuals  possess  guardian 
angels  in  the  same  sense  as  nations  and  cities 
possess  them  [Strom,  vi.  17).  But  in  other  passages 
he  lays  stress  on  their  work  of  intercession  for  men 
(cf.  Strom,  v.  14,  vii.  12,  and  iv.  18,  vii.  13). 
Under  the  influence  of  Neo- Platonic  ideas,  the 
Alexandrian  Fathers  assert  that  there  is  a  double 
activity — a  higher  dealing  with  spiritual  things,  a 
lower  with  the  material  order  ;  and  that  in  both  of 
these  the  angels  of  God  are  employed.  Origen 
clearly  expresses  the  view  that  the  world  has  need 
of  angels,  who  are  placed  over  animals,  plants,  and 
elements  (hom.  xiv.  2  in  Num.). 

The  following  passages  in  Origen  may  also  be  consulted  :  de 
Princip.  i.  6,  8,  ii.  8,  c.  Cels.  iv.  29,  v.  4,  5,  4S,  58,  viii.  31,  32,  34, 
de  Oral.  6,  28,  31,  in  Levit.  hom.  ix.  8,  in  Num.  hom.  xi.  4, 
xx.  3,  in  Ezek.  hom.  xiii.  1,  in  Ps.  xxxvii.  hom.  i.  1,  in  Luc. 
hom.  xii.  xxiii. 

4.  Later  Greek  writers. — There  are  a  number  of 
references  in  the  Cappadocian  Fathers  to  the 
nature  and  functions  of  angels.  Concerning  their 
nature  there  appears  to  have  been  some  difference 
of  opinion,  (a)  Basil  held  that  their  substance 
(ovcrla)  was  ethereal  spirit  or  immaterial  fire  [de 
Splr.  Sanct.  §  38). — (6)  Gregory  Nazianzen  is 
doubtful  (Orat.  xxxiv.  16). — (c)  Gregory  of  Nyssa 


declares  them  to  be  entirely  spiritual  {in  Orat.  Dem. 
hom.  iv.). — (d)  Many  references  are  contained  in 
the  writings  of  Chrysostom.  He  asserts  that  their 
nature  is  superior  to  ours,  but  cannot  be  accurately 
comprehended  by  us  (de  incomprehensibili  Dei  Na- 
tura,  v.  3).  They  are  possessed  of  an  incorporeal 
nature  (drrii/xaros  0iVis),  and  he  rejects  on  this 
account  the  earlier  interpretation  of  Gn  62  (in  Gen. 
hom.  xxii.  2).  According  to  Basil,  the  sanctity  of 
the  angels  is  due  to  the  activity  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
(op.  cit.  §  38).  They  are  less  liable  to  sin  than  we 
are  (Svo-kIvvtoi),  but  not  incapable  of  it  (dKbnrot). 
This  is  proved  by  the  fall  of  Lucifer,  whose  sin  was 
envy  and  pride.  These  Fathers  assign  guardian 
angels  to  individuals,  churches,  and  nations. 
Basil  is,  however,  of  opinion  that  the  guardian 
angel  is  driven  away  by  sin  '  as  smoke  drives  away 
bees  and  a  bad  odour  doves '  (hom.  in  Ps.  xxxiii.  5). 
Gregory  of  Nyssa  is  the  only  Greek  Father  who 
follows  Hermas  in  the  view  that  every  man  has 
both  a  good  and  a  bad  angel  as  his  constant  com- 
panion (de  Vita  Moysis).  Angels  are  described  as 
overseers  (Zipopoi)  of  churches.  Gregory  Nazianzen 
addresses  a  special  farewell  to  these  Stpopm  on  his 
departure  (Orat.  32,  sub  fin.  ;  cf.  Basil,  Ep.  ii.  238). 
They  are  the  guides  (Trcuoaywyol)  of  the  just,  and 
lead  them  to  eternal  blessedness  (Bas.  de  Sp>ir. 
Sanct.  xiii.  ;  Chrys.  in  Ep.  ad  Coloss.  hom.  i.  3,  4). 
It  would  appear  that  Cyril  of  Jerusalem  was  of 
opinion  that  certain  of  the  fallen  angels  had 
obtained  their  pardon  (Cat.  ii.  10;  cf.  also  Basil,  in 
Ps.  xxxii.  4  ;  Gregor.  Nyss.  contra  Eunom.  hom. 
x.  ;  Greg.  Naz.  Orat.  xxxiv.  81  ;  Joh.  Chrys.  in 
ascens.  Dom.  1,  de  laud.  S.  Paul.  Ap.  hom.  ii. 
sermo  43,  in  Gen.  hom.  iv. ). 

5.  Latin  Fathers. — (a)  We  find  in  Tertullian  a 
number  of  references  to  spirits,  good  and  evil. 
Like  Origen,  he  connects  the  ministry  of  angels 
with  the  sacrament  of  baptism.  According  to  this 
writer,  the  baptismal  water  receives  its  healing 
properties  from  an  angel  (de  Bapt.  4).  Further- 
more, the  actual  purification  effected  in  baptism 
is  due  to  a  spirit  who  is  described  as  '  angelus 
baptismi  arbiter,'  who  prepares  the  way  for  the 
Holy  Spirit  ( '  non  quod  in  aquis  spiritum  sanctum 
consequamur,  sed  in  aqua  emundati  sub  angelo, 
spiritui  sancto  praeparamur'  (ib.  5,  6).  Marriage 
which  has  received  the  blessing  of  the  Church  is 
announced  by  the  angels  and  ratified  by  the  Father 
(ad  Uxor.  ii.  9).  The  angels,  looking  down  from 
heaven,  record  the  sins  of  Christians  ;  for  example, 
when  they  are  present  in  the  theatre,  where  the 
devil  is  working  against  the  Church  (de  Spectac.  27). 
A  more  detailed  account  of  the  work  of  the  angels 
and  demons  will  be  found  in  Apol.  22,  where  they 
are  stated  to  be  spiritual  substances.  Tertullian 
alludes  to  the  fall  of  the  angels,  corrupted  of  their 
own  free  will,  from  whom  sprang  the  race  of  the 
demons.  Of  the  former,  Satan  is  the  chief.  They 
are  the  source  of  diseases  and  all  disasters.  They 
delude  men  into  idolatry  in  order  to  obtain  for 
themselves  their  proper  food  of  fumes  and  blood. 
Both  angels  and  demons  are  ubiquitous  ;  both  are 
also  winged.  These  spiritual  agencies  are  invisible 
and  not  to  be  perceived  by  the  senses.  On  the 
question  of  the  bodily  forms  of  the  angels,  see  de 
came  Christi,  6. — (b)  The  concern  of  the  angels  in 
human  affairs  is  referred  to  by  Firmilian  in  a  letter 
to  Cyprian  (Ep.  Ixxv.  inter  Cyprian.  1 ;  cf.  Euseb. 
HE  v.  28). — (c)  The  doctrine  of  Lactantius  is 
peculiar.  Before  the  creation  of  the  world,  God 
produced  a  spirit  like  to  Himself  (the  Logos) ;  then 
He  made  another  being  in  whom  the  disposition  of 
the  Divine  origin  did  not  remain.  This  being,  of 
his  own  will,  was  infected  with  evil,  and  acquired 
for  himself  another  name.  '  He  is  called  by  the 
Greeks  5id|So\os,  but  we  call  him  criminator,  be- 
cause he  reports  to  God  the  faults  to  which   he 


580 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Christian) 


entices  us'  (cf.  the  Jewish  appellation,  Satan, 
I7?i3?>  '  the  accuser '  ;  Lactant.  Divin.  Institut.  ii.  9). 
At  this  point  some  MSS  of  Lactantius  insert  a  passage  which 
is  regarded  by  the  best  authorities  as  spurious,  and  in  which 
the  origin  of  the  devil  and  the  ministry  of  angels  are  treated  in  a 
Manichaean  fashion.  Here  it  is  stated  that,  before  the  creation 
of  the  world,  God  made  two  spirits,  themselves  the  sources  of 
creation — the  one,  as  it  were,  the  right  hand  of  God,  the  other, 
as  it  were,  His  left  hand,  and  eternally  opposed  to  each  other. 
These  two  spirits  are  the  Logos  and  Satan.  The  fall  of  the 
angels  and  the  origin  of  the  demons,  who  are  divided  into  two 
classes,  are  described  in  ii.  16,  and  in  the  Bame  passage  the 
latter  are  identified  with  pagan  deities  (cf.  also  Epitome,  28 ; 
Instit.  iv.  8 ;  and,  on  the  devil,  iii.  29,  vii.  24-26). 

(d)  Later  Latin  Fathers,  such  as  Ambrose  and 
Jerome,  were  of  opinion  that  the  angels  were 
created  before  the  material  world  (cf.  Ambrose, 
de  Incarnat.  Dom.  Sacr.  16 ;  Jerome,  in  Ep.  ad 
Tit.  I2).  Some  difference  of  opinion  exists  among 
them  about  the  interpretation  of  Gn  62,  Jerome 
appearing  to  regard  the  spirits  as  possessed  of 
bodies  (cf.  in  Ezech.  2816) ;  Ambrose,  on  the  other 
hand,  agrees  with  Hilary  in  the  statement  that 
they  are  '  spirituales  et  incorporales '  (cf.  Ambros. 
in  Luc.  vii.  126  ;  Hilar,  in  Ps.  cxxxvii.).  The  sin  of 
Satan,  according  to  Jerome  and  Ambrose,  was  pride 
(cf.  Ambros.  de  Virgin,  i.  53,  in  Ps.  118,  serm.  4.  8, 
7.  8,  16.  15).  The  views  of  the  Latin  Fathers  with 
regard  to  guardian  angels  are  similar  to  those  which 
we  have  already  encountered  in  the  writings  of  the 
Greek  Fathers.  Numerous  references  to  this  subject 
will  be  found  in  their  commentaries  and  homilies, 
where  it  is  stated  of  nations,  churches,  and  com- 
munities that  each  possesses  its  guardian  angel. 

See  esp.  Jerome  in  his  com.  on  Ec.  55,  where  he  says  that '  the 
things  which  are  said  pass  not  into  the  wind,  but  are  straight- 
way carried  to  the  Lord,  a  praesenti  angelo  qui  unicuique 
adhaeret  comes.'  Other  references  will  be  found  in  Jerome, 
in  Dan.  7s,  Mic.  61-2,  the  last-named  passage  being  of  special 
interest.  See  also  Ambros.  in  Ps.  118,  serm.  3.  6,  and  Hilary, 
in  Ps.  lxv.  13,  cxxxii.  6,  cxxxiv.  17. 

Jerome  is  among  the  earliest  of  Latin  writers  to 
call  attention  to  the  diversity  in  the  orders  of 
spirits,  comparing  the  angelic  hierarchy  with  the 
organization  of  the  officials  of  the  Empire  (cf.  esp. 
adv.  Iovin.  ii.  28,  adv.  Euf.  i.  23).  Ambrose  has  a 
passage  which  bears  upon  the  cultus  of  the  angels, 
whom  he  appears  to  place  on  a  level  with  the 
martyrs,  and  whose  invocation  he  warmly  recom- 
mends {de  Viduis,  ix.  §55). — (e)  Already  mEusebius 
a  distinction  is  found  between  the  worship  (o-ipovres) 
due  to  God  alone  and  the  honour  (Ti/tuwres)  paid  to 
the  angels  (Prmp.  Ev.  vii.  15 ;  cf.  also  Bern.  Ev. 
iii.  3,  Prcep.  Ev.  xiii.  13).— (/)  Finally,  for  this 
period  the  writings  of  Augustine  may  be  consulted, 
especially  the  de  Civ.  Dei,  in  which  the  angels  play 
no  small  part.  They  form  the  heavenly  City  of  God, 
and  this  part  of  the  Holy  City  assists  that  other  part 
here  below :  '  hanc  [sc.  Civitatem  Dei]  angeli  sancti 
annuntiaverunt  qui  nos  ad  eius  societatem  invita- 
verunt  civesque  suos  in  ilia  esse  voluerunt '  (x.  25). 
The  angels  minister  alike  to  Christ,  the  Divine 
Head  of  the  mystical  Body,  who  is  in  heaven,  and 
to  the  members  of  the  Body  who  are  on  earth. 
Thus  it  is  in  the  Church  that  the  angels  ascend 
and  descend  according  to  the  words  of  Scripture. 

'This  is  what  happens  in  the  Church:  the  angels  of  God 
ascend  and  descend  upon  the  Son  of  Man,  because  the  Son  of 
Man  to  whom  they  ascend  in  heart  is  above,  namely  the  Head, 
and  below  is  the  Son  of  Man,  namely  the  Body.  His  members 
are  here ;  the  Head  is  above.  They  ascend  to  the  Head,  they 
descend  to  the  members'  (Enarr.  in  Ps.  xliv.  20). 

Augustine  states  that  the  angels  are  spirits  of  an 
incorporeal  substance,  '  invisibilis,  sensibilis,  ration- 
alis,  intellectualis,  immortalis'  (cf.  ps. -August. 
de  Cognit.  verm  vitcs,  6).  The  designation  '  angel ' 
refers  to  the  office,  not  to  the  nature,  of  these 
spirits  (Enarr.  in  Ps.  ciii.  serm.  1.  §  15).  Angels 
received  at  their  creation,  from  the  Holy  Spirit, 
the  gift  of  grace,  and  it  is  possible  that,  in  the  case 
of  those  who  did  not  fall,  they  received  also  the 
assurance  of  perseverance  (de  Civ.  Dei,  xii.  9.  2, 
xi.  13).     Augustine  refuses  to  identify  the  '  sons  of 


God '  (Gn  6)  with  the  angels  (ib.  xv.  23).  The  sin 
of  the  fallen  angels  was  pride.  The  fall  of  Satan 
occurred  at  the  very  beginning  of  his  existence, 
and  the  good  angels  have  enjoyed  the  vision  of  the 
Word  from  the  first  moment  of  their  creation  (de 
Gen.  ad  Lit.  ii.  17,  xi.  21,  26,  30).  The  office  of 
the  evil  angels  is  to  deceive  men  and  to  bring  them 
to  perdition  (in  loan,  tract,  ex.  7).  They  occupy 
themselves  with  the  practice  of  divination  and 
magic  (c.  Academ.  i.  19,  20).  But  the  power  of 
these  evil  spirits  is  limited  ;  God  employs  them  for 
the  chastisement  of  the  wicked,  for  the  punishment 
of  the  good  for  their  faults,  or  even  for  the  purpose 
of  testing  men  (de  Trin.  iii.  21,  de  Civ.  Dei,  xi. 
23.  2).  Augustine  asserts  that  the  good  angels 
announce  to  us  the  will  of  God,  offer  to  Him  our 
prayers,  watch  over  us,  love  us,  and  help  us  (de 
Civ.  Dei,  vii.  30,  x.  25 ;  Ep.  cxl.  69).  They  are 
even  entrusted  with  the  care  of  unbelieving  nations 
(Enarr.  in  Ps.  lxxxviii.,  serm.  i.  3).  He  also,  like 
Origen,  affirms  that  to  them  is  committed  the 
charge  of  the  material  world,  'iubente  illo  cui 
subiecta  sunt  omnia'  (de  Gen.  ad  Lit.  viii.  45 ff.). 
It  should,  however,  be  noted  that  Augustine  does 
not  assign  a  guardian  angel  to  each  individual. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  this  is  due  '  to  his  doctrine  of  pre- 
destination, which  precludes  the  constant  ministration  of  a 
particular  guardian  angel,  though  it  leaves  room  for  the  minis- 
try of  angels  as  mediators  between  God  and  the  faithful ' 
(Turmel,  quoted  by  Kirsch,  Communion  of  Saints  in  the 
Ancient  Church,  Eng.  tr.,  p.  246  f.).  It  may  be  mentioned  in 
support  of  this  view,  that  Cassian,  the  great  opponent  of  the 
doctrine  of  predestination,  following  Hermas,  attributes  the 
choice  between  the  good  and  evil  angelic  counsellors  to  man's 
free  will  (Cassian,  Collat.  viii.  17 ;  cf.  also  viii.  12,  IS). 

Augustine  does  not  favour  any  cultus  of  the 
angels  :  '  honoramus  eos  caritate  non  servitute ' 
(de  Vera  Relig.  Iv.  [110]).  They  do  not  desire  our 
worship,  but  rather  that  with  them  we  should 
worship  their  God  and  ours  (de  Civ.  Dei,  x.  25). 
With  regard  to  the  order  of  the  angelic  hierarchy 
and  the  signification  of  the  titles  attributed  to  the 
angels,  Augustine  declares  himself  to  be  entirely 
ignorant,  and  appears  to  discourage  speculation  on 
this  subject  (Enchir.  15 ;  ad  Orosium,  14).  (See 
Tixeront,  Hist,  des  dogmes,  ii.  372-376 ;  Kirsch, 
op.  cit.  pt.  iii.  ch.  5.) 

Conclusion. — The  evidence  of  the  passages  cited 
above  may  be  summarized  as  follows.  The  earliest 
Fathers  of  the  Church,  acquainted  with  the  angel - 
ology  and  demonology  of  Scripture  and  of  Jewish 
apocalyptic  literature,  all  affirm  or  imply  the 
existence  of  spirits  good  and  evil.  At  a  very  early 
period,  as  we  can  see  from  the  writings  of  Hermas, 
the  doctrine  of  good  and  evil  angels  appointed  to 
watch  over  individuals  and  institutions  had  already 
been  adopted,  and  we  may  trace  a  steady  develop- 
ment of  this  doctrine  in  the  writings  of  both  the 
Greek  and  the  Latin  Fathers,  while  it  is  probable 
that  later  speculations  on  this  subject  were  greatly 
influenced  by  the  writings  of  Origen.  Opposition 
to  Gnostic  speculation  led  earlier  writers  to  insist 
on  the  fact  that  angels  and  demons  were  created 
beings,  while  some  writers  refuse  to  allow  to  the 
former  any  part  in  the  work  of  creation.  Difference 
of  opinion  seems  to  have  existed  as  to  the  nature 
and  constitution  of  angels  and  demons,  though 
the  majority  of  writers  appear  to  have  regarded 
them  as  incorporeal  spirits.  A  further  difference 
is  seen  in  the  exegesis  of  Gn  61- 2.  The  earlier 
writers  more  usually  identify  the  '  sons  of  God  ' 
with  angels ;  later  writers  frequently  reject  this 
interpretation.  The  legend  of  the  fall  of  the 
angels,  and  the  person  of  Satan  especially,  led 
later  writers  to  indulge  in  speculation  as  to  the 
problem  of  evil  and  the  relation  of  evil  spirits  to 
God.  It  would  appear  that  the  majority  at  least 
of  later  writers  Held  the  view  that  angels  were 
capable  of  sinning,  being  possessed,  like  men,  of 
free  will.     There  are  some  traces  of  the  beginnings 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Christian) 


681 


of  a  cultus  of  the  angels  which,  according  to  some 
authorities,  may  be  traced  back  as  far  as  Justin 
Martyr,  and  which  appears  to  be  clearly  taught  in 
the  writings  of  Ambrose.  It  is  probable,  as  may 
be  gathered  from  Irenseus,  that  the  dangers  of  the 
cultus  became  apparent  during  the  Church's 
struggles  with  Gnosticism.  During  this  period  we 
find  very  little  about  orders  or  numbers  of  angels. 
This  subject,  as  well  as  the  dedication  of  a  church 
by  Constantine  to  the  archangel  Michael,  will  be 
best  discussed  in  the  next  section. 

II.  From  tee  Council  of  Cealcedon  to  a.d. 
800. — During  this  period  we  have  especially  to 
observe  two  points  :  (1)  the  development  of  the 
cultus  and  invocation  of  the  angels,  and  (2)  the 
elaborated  and  systematic  doctrine  regarding  the 
orders  of  spirits. 

I.  Cultus  of  angels. — We  have  already  noted  a 
passage  in  the  writings  of  Justin  Martyr  which 
possibly  implies  a  cultus  of  the  angels,  and  another 
in  Ambrose  where  their  invocation  is  directly  re- 
commended. On  the  other  hand,  Irenseus  appears 
definitely  to  oppose  both  invocation  and  worship, 
and  a  writer  so  late  as  Augustine  explicitly  teaches 
that  they  should  find  no  part  in  Christian  worship. 
The  statements  of  Origen  have  led  some  authori- 
ties to  regard  him  as  favourable,  though  there 
are  passages  in  his  writings  where  the  cultus  is 
explicitly  condemned.  To  the  authorities  cited 
we  may  add  canon  35  of  the  4th  cent.  Council  of 
Laodicea,  in  which  Christians  are  forbidden  '  to 
forsake  the  Church  of  God,  and  go  away  and  name 
(ooo/ittfeiK)  angels,  and  to  form  assemblies,  which  is 
unlawful'  (Hefele,  Hist.  Counc,  Eng.  tr.  ii.  317). 
But  the  passage  is  of  doubtful  meaning,  and  it 
should  be  observed  that  Dionysius  Exiguus  renders 
d-y-yAous  by  angulos.  The  canon  goes  on  :  et  Tts  ovv 
evpedr}  Tai/7-77  rrj  KeKpufj.fj.4vr}  eiSuXoXarpelrj.  <rxo\dfav, 
&rra)  dvdBetjM..  This  canon  was  known  to  Theodoret, 
who  refers  to  it  twice  (Ep.  ad  Col.  216  3").  In  the 
former  of  these  passages  he  states  that  this  disease 
(irddos)  is  still  to  be  found  in  Phrygia  and  Pisidia. 

Thia  view  is  supported  by  certain  inscriptions  discovered  in 
that  neighbourhood,  among  which  may  be  included  the  follow- 
ing :  'Apx<XKy«Ae  Miy<"jX  e\eii(rov  rrfv  jroXi  aov  tc[a]i  pvo-p  auTJjv 
airb  tov  novrfoov)  X :  '  Archangel  Slichael,  have  mercy  on  thy 
city  and  deliver  it  from  evil'  (for  these  inscriptions,  see  Dom 
Leclercq's  art.  in  DACL,  s.v.  '  Anges,'  coL  2085). 

In  the  latter  passage,  Theodoret  again  quotes  the 
canon  of  Laodicea,  as  forbidding  prayer  (eSxea-dai.) 
to  angels.  One  other  passage  in  this  writer  may 
be  referred  to,  viz.  Grcec.  Affect.  Cur.  3,  where, 
in  answer  to  the  pagan  objection  that  Christians 
also  worship  other  spiritual  beings  besides  God,  he 
answers  that  Christians  do  indeed  believe  in  in- 
visible powers,  but  do  not  render  to  them  worship 
(<r^/3as,  TrpoaKvvrivis).  He  states  that  these  beings 
are  incorporeal  and,  unlike  the  pagan  deities,  sex- 
less, and  that  they  are  employed  in  worshipping 
God  and  furthering  the  salvation  of  man.  The 
evidence  of  Theodoret  with  regard  to  the  cultus  of 
angels  and  churches  dedicated  to  them  is  supported 
byDidymus  (de  Trin.  ii.  7-8),  who  says  thatcnurches 
are  to  be  found  in  both  towns  and  villages,  under 
the  patronage  of  angels,  and  that  men  are  willing 
to  make  long  pilgrimages  to  gain  their  interces- 
sions. The  earliest  historic  reference  to  the  dedi- 
cation of  a  church  to  an  angel  is  to  be  found  in 
Sozomen  (HE  ii.  3),  where  it  is  stated  that  Con- 
stantine erected  a  church,  called  the  NwnXioi',  not 
far  from  Constantinople.  The  reason  of  the  dedi- 
cation was  that  the  archangel  Michael  was  believed 
to  have  appeared  there.  In  the  West  we  find 
instances  of  the  dedication  of  churches  to  the  arch- 
angel Michael  at  least  as  early  as  the  5th  cent. 
(see  DACL,  vol.  i.  col.  2147).  St.  Michael  is  the 
only  angel  of  whom  we  find  a  commemoration  in 
the  calendar  before  the  9th  century.  Various  fes- 
tivals of  this  angel  are  to  be  found  in  different 


calendars,  but  they  appear  in  all  cases  to  be  the 
anniversaries  of  dedications  of  churches.  This  was 
the  case  with  the  festival  of  the  29th  of  September, 
still  observed  in  the  West,  which  commemorated 
a  church,  long  since  destroyed,  in  the  suburbs  of 
Rome  on  the  Via  Salaria  (Duchesne,  Christian 
Worship,  276).  Five  masses  for  this  festival  (then 
kept  on  the  30th,  not  the  29th)  are  found  in  the 
earliest  Roman  service-book,  the  Leonine  Sacra- 
mentary  (ed.  Feltoe,  pp.  106-108).  In  the  prayers 
contained  herein  are  found  clear  references  to  the 
invocation  and  cult  (veneratio)  of  angels. 

In  the  Second  Council  of  Nicsea(A.D.  787),  which 
dealt  with  the  iconoclastic  controversy,  the  ques- 
tion of  the  nature  of  the  angels  was  discussed.  At 
this  Council  a  book,  written  by  John,  bishop  of 
Thessalonica,  was  read,  in  which  the  opinion  was 
advanced  that  angels  were  not  altogether  incor- 
poreal and  invisible,  but  endowed  with  a  thin  and 
ethereal  or  fiery  body.  In  support  of  this  view 
John  quotes  Basil,  Athanasius,  and  other  Greek 
Fathers.  He  expresses  the  same  view  with  regard 
to  demons,  and  states  that  Christians  both  depict 
and  venerate  angels.  These  views  appear  to  have 
met,  on  the  whole,  with  the  approval  of  the 
Council,  which  sanctioned  the  custom  of  depicting 
angels  and  venerating  their  images  (Cone.  Nic.  ii. 
act.  v.).  By  the  action  of  this  Council  it  would 
appear  that  the  cultus  of  the  angels,  which  had 
originated  before  the  beginning  of  the  period  under 
consideration  as  a  private  devotion,  and  had  met 
with  considerable  opposition  from  various  ecclesi- 
astical writers,  formally  received  the  sanction  of 
the  Church,  and  may  henceforward  be  regarded  as 
part  of  the  doctrina  publica. 

2.  Orders  of  spirits. — We  must  now  turn  to  the 
consideration  of  the  angelic  hierarchy.  We  have 
seen,  in  the  earlier  period,  that  occasional  refer- 
ences were  made  to  this  subject  by  some  Fathers, 
but  that  a  writer  so  late  as  Augustine  had  not  only 
declared  his  ignorance  of  the  subject,  but  had 
apparently  discouraged  speculation  thereon. — (a) 
The  first  writer  who  definitely  elaborated  the  sub- 
ject was  pseudo-Dionysius  (c.  A.D.  500),  and  his 
detailed  classification  and  description  of  the  spiritual 
hierarchy  may  probably  be  regarded  as  the  basis  of 
all  subsequent  speculation  both  in  the  East  and  in 
the  West.  The  outline  of  his  scheme  is  as  follows. 
He  divides  the  celestial  hierarchy  into  three  orders 
(rdyfiara),  and  further  subdivides  each  of  these  into 
three.  Thus  the  first  order  comprises:  (1)  8p6voL, 
(2)  xtpoopL/J-,  (3)  aeptuplix ;  the  second  :  (4)  xupiorip-es, 
(5)  i^ovalai,  (6)  dwdfias ;  and  the  third :  (7)  dpxa^ 
(8)  doxavy^0'.  (9)  ii-y7eXot.  It  is  impossible  here  to 
enter  into  any  detailed  description  of  the  theory 
of  the  Areopagite  concerning  the  functions  of  the 
angelic  hierarchy.  It  may  suffice  to  state  that  it 
is  a  hierarchy  of  illumination,  the  highest  rank 
being  nearest  to  God,  the  lowest  nearest  to  man. 
Cf.  esp.  de  Coziest.  Hier.  10,  §  2 :  '  Now  all  angels 
are  interpreters  of  those  above  them  .  .  .  the  most 
reverend,  indeed,  of  God  who  moves  them,  and  the 
rest  in  due  degree  of  those  who  are  moved  by  God.' 
It  would  appear  that  the  members  of  each  triad  are 
on  an  equality  with  each  other,  being  distributed 
into  a  first,  middle,  and  last  power.  In  this  manner 
Is  6s  is  interpreted,  where  it  is  stated  that  the 
seraphim  cry  one  to  another,  '  indicating  distinctly, 
as  I  think,  by  this,  that  the  first  impart  their  know- 
ledge of  divine  things  to  the  second'  (ib.). 

(b)  In  the  West  the  classification  of  the  Areo- 
pagite is  closely  followed  by  Gregory  the  Great, 
who  affirms  the  existence  of  nine  orders  of  angels, 
viz.  Angeli,  Archangeli,  Virtutes,  Potestates, 
Principatus,  Dominationes,  Throni,  Cherubim, 
Seraphim  (in  Evang.  lib.  ii.  horn,  xxxiv.).  In  the 
same  work  a  number  of  other  passages  occur  deal- 
ing with  the  ministry  of  angels,  the  explanation  of 


582 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Christian) 


the  names  and  the  offices  of  the  different  orders  of 
angels,  and  the  manner  in  which  we  may  profit  by 
the  imitation  of  the  angels,  together  with  certain 
other  points  of  lesser  interest.  References  to  evil 
spirits  will  be  found  in  the  same  author  (cf.  Moral. 
iii.  passim). 

(c)  Finally,  John  of  Damascus,  who  in  his  writ- 
ings so  frequently  shows  traces  of  the  teaching  of 
the  Areopagite,  follows  the  latter  in  his  classifica- 
tion of  the  celestial  hierarchy  {de  Fid.  Orth.  ii.  3). 
In  the  same  passage  he  gives  a  description  of 
the  angels,  in  which  he  defines  a  number  of  points 
which,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been  matters  of  con- 
troversy, both  before  and  during  the  period  under 
discussion.     The  definition  is  as  follows  : 

'  An  angel,  then,  is  an  intellectual  substance,  always  mobile, 
endowed  with  free  will,  incorporeal,  serving  God,  having  re- 
ceived, according  to  grace,  immortality  in  its  nature,  the  form 
and  character  of  whose  substance  God  alone,  who  created  it, 
knows.' 

It  may  be  said  that  at  the  close  of  this  period 
something  like  a  general  agreement  had  been 
reached  about  the  nature  and  functions  of  spirits, 
good  and  evil,  and  it  remains  only  to  discuss  some 
further  elaborations  which  we  encounter  in  the 
mediaeval  period. 

III.  From  a.d.  800  to  the  Reformation. — 
During  the  mediaeval  period,  speculations  concern- 
ing the  nature  of  good  and  evil  spirits  are  con- 
stantly to  be  found  in  the  writings  of  the  schoolmen. 
These,  for  the  most  part,  consisted  in  the  applica- 
tion of  mediaeval  dialectic  to  the  statements  of 
Scripture,  the  opinions  of  Augustine,  and  the 
schematization  of  the  Areopagite,  whose  works 
had  been  translated  by  John  Scotus  Erigena,  and 
obtained  great  popularity  throughout  the  West 
(Bardenhewer,  Patrology,  Eng.  tr.  1908,  p.  538). 
It  is  impossible  here  to  enter  into  details  about  the 
nature  of  these  speculations,  and  it  seems  most 
convenient  to  illustrate  their  general  trend  from 
the  writings  of  certain  representative  theologians. 
In  spite  of  the  diversity  of  opinion,  it  should  be 
observed  that  the  first  canon  of  the  Fourth  Lateran 
Council  (A.D.  1215)  made  certain  clear  and  definite 
statements  with  regard  to  spiritual  beings,  and 
their  relation  to  God,  without  apparently,  how- 
ever, terminating  the  disputes  of  later  theologians 
on  this  matter.     It  is  stated  that 

'  God  is  the  Creator  of  all  things,  visible  and  invisible,  spiritual 
and  corporeal,  who  of  His  own  omnipotent  power  siinxd  ab 
initio  temporis  utramque  de  nihilo  condidit  creaturam,  spiritu- 
alem  et  corporalem,  angelicam  videlicet  et  mundaiiam,  ac  deinde 
humanam  qicasi  communem  ex  spiritu  et  corpore  eonstitutam. 
The  devil  and  other  demons  were  created,  indeed,  good  by  God, 
and  became  bad  of  their  own  accord  fj?ar  se).  Man  sinned  by 
suggestion  of  the  devil.' 

As  we  have  said,  this  decree  appears  to  have 
failed  to  produce  unanimity  of  opinion  among  the 
schoolmen,  and  the  subject  remained,  as  Harnack 
remarks,  '  the  fencing  and  wrestling  ground  of  the 
theologians,  who  had  here  more  freedom  than  else- 
where' (Hist,  of  Dogma,  Eng.  tr.,  vi.  186).  But 
on  many  points  we  discern  a  general  agreement. 
Thus,  with  regard  to  guardian  angels,  all  held  that 
each  man  from  his  birth  possessed  a  guardian  spirit, 
and  that  this  applied  also  to  sinners,  while  some 
asserted  this  even  of  Antichrist  himself.  Evil 
spirits,  on  the  other  hand,  tempt  and  incite  men 
to  sin,  though  it  should  be  observed  that  even  the 
power  of  the  devil  was  held  to  be  subject  to  the 
limitation  that  he  cannot  affect  the  free  will  or 
spiritual  knowledge  of  man,  but  can  approach  him 
only  through  his  lower  nature  (so  Albertus  Magnus, 
Sum/mm  Theol.  pt.  ii.  tract.  6 ;  see  also  Bonaventura, 
in  Sent.  2,  dist.  11,  quaest.  1,  and  Alb.  Mag. 
ib.  tract.  9).  But  the  question  of  the  substance, 
essence,  endowments  of  grace,  peccability,  modes  of 
cognition,  and  individuation  of  the  angels,  as  well  as 
certain  other  problems,  still  remained  in  dispute. 

(a)  Peter  Lombard  (t  1164),  the  first  systematic 


theologian  of  the  West,  devotes  ten  sections  of  the 
second  book  of  the  Sententiw  (dist.  ii.-xi. )  to  the 
subject  of  good  and  evil  spirits.  In  his  teaching 
he  follows  the  Areopagite,  and  deals,  among  other 
things,  with  the  questions  of  the  nature,  creation, 
free  will,  fall,  and  peccability  of  angels,  and  the 
relation  of  demons  to  magical  arts  ;  he  also  discusses 
the  question  whether  Michael,  Raphael,  and  Gabriel 
are  the  names  of  orders  or  of  individual  spirits, 
and  whether  each  man  has  a  good  and  bad  angel 
assigned  to  him  ;  and  concludes  with  a  discussion  as 
to  the  possibility  of  progress  of  the  angels  in  virtue. 

(6)  In  the  numerous  references  to  good  and  evil 
spirits  contained  in  the  writings  of  Bernard,  two 
passages  are  especially  worthy  of  notice.  The 
first  is  contained  in  the  de  Considerations  (v.  4), 
where  the  angels  are  described  as 
'cives  [Ierusalem  matris  nostrae]  .  .  .  distinctos  in  personas, 
dispositos  in  dignitates,  ab  initio  stantes  in  ordine  suo,  per- 
fectos  in  genere  suo,  corpore  aetherios,  immortalitate  perpetuos, 
impassibiles,  non  creatos  sed  factos,  id  est  gratia  non  natura, 
mente  puros,  affectu  benignos  religione  pioa,  castimonia  integros 
unanimitate  individuos,  pace  securos,  a  Deo  conditos,  divinifi 
laudibus  et  obsequiis  deditos,  haec  omnia  legendo  comperimus, 
fide  tenemus.' 

In  the  long  passage  which  follows  we  find  a  dis- 
quisition on  the  angelic  hierarchy,  which  closely 
follows  that  of  the  Areopagite.  In  the  second 
passage  (serm.  v.  in  Cant.  §  7),  Bernard  enumer- 
ates some  points  which  he  feels  unable  to  resolve  : 

1  The  Fathers  appear  to  have  held  various  opinions  on  such 
matters,  nor  is  it  clear  to  me  on  what  ground  I  should  teach 
either  opinion,  and  I  admit  my  ignorance ;  neither  do  I  con- 
sider a  knowledge  of  these  things  to  conduce  to  your  progress.' 

The  points  in  dispute  refer  to  the  nature  of  the 
bodies  of  the  angels  :  it  is  asked  whether  their 
bodies  are  part  of  themselves,  as  is  the  case  with 
men,  or  assumed  for  purposes  of  revelation.  On 
guardian  angels,  see  in  Ps.  '  qui  habitat,'  serm. 
xii.  2 ;  serm.  vii.  in  Cant.  §  4 ;  on  the  devil  and 
evil  angels,  see  in  Ps.  '  qui  habitat,'  serm.  xiii. ;  de 
Gratia  et  Libero  Arbitrio,  cap.  vi.  §  18. 

(c)  Anselm,  who  may  justly  be  regarded  as  the 
pioneer  of  speculative  theology  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  is  probably  the  first  Western  writer  to 
apply  with  any  fullness  the  processes  of  the 
Aristotelian  dialectic  to  the  traditional  teaching 
of  the  Church  about  good  and  evil  spirits.  These 
play  a  somewhat  important  part  in  his  remarkable 
system,  especially  in  the  elaborate  arguments  of 
the  Cur  Deus  Homo,  where  it  is  suggested  that 
man  was  created  for  the  purpose  of  completing  the 
number  of  the  angels,  which  had  been  diminished 
by  the  fall  of  the  devil  and  his  companions.  This 
opinion  Anselm  rejects,  saying  that  the  human 
race  is  made  for  itself  and  not  merely  to  replace 
individuals  of  another  nature  [Cur  Deus  Homo,  i. 
18).  In  the  long  discussion  which  follows  con- 
cerning the  number  of  the  angels,  and  whether  the 
number  of  the  elect  will  exactly  correspond  with 
the  number  of  those  that  fell,  Anselm  admits  a 
diversity  of  opinion,  and  concludes  that  it  is  per- 
missible to  hold  any  view  that  is  not  disproved  by 
Scripture.  Cf.  also  de  Casu  Diaboli,  cap.  4,  where 
the  cause  and  manner  of  the  Fall  are  discussed. 
On  the  angels,  cf.  de  Fide  Trin.  3. 

(d)  In  order  to  present  a  clearer  view  of  the 
Scholastic  doctrine  of.  good  and  evil  spirits,  it  will 
be  best  to  give  here  a  brief  summary  of  the  teach- 
ing of  Thomas  Aquinas  on  this  subject,  where  we 
probably  find  it  in  its  most  developed  form.  This 
is  contained  in  the  '  Tractates  de  Angelis '  which 
is  comprised  in  Quaestiones  1.  to  lxiv.  of  Pars  prima 
of  the  Sum/ma : — 

Angels  are  altogether  incorporeal,  not  composed 
of  matter  and  form ;  exceed  corporeal  beings  in 
number  just  as  they  exceed  them  in  perfection ; 
differ  in  species  since  they  differ  in  rank  ;  and  are 
incorruptible  because  they  are  immaterial.  Angels 
can  assume  an  aerial  body  but  do  not  exercise 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Christian) 


683 


the  functions  of  life.  Thus  they  do  not  eat  pro- 
prie,  as  Christ  did  after  His  resurrection.  Angels 
can  be  localized,  hut  cannot  he  in  more  than  one 
place  at  the  same  time.  The  substance  of  angels 
is  not  pure  thought,  because,  in  a  created  being, 
activity  and  substance  are  never  identical.  Simi- 
larly the  esse  of  angels  is  not  pure  thought.  They 
have  no  sensory  cognition.  Their  cognition  is 
objective — not,  however,  through  determinations 
in  the  object,  but  through  innate  categories.  The 
cognition  of  the  higher  angels  is  effected  by  sim- 
pler and  fewer  categories  than  is  that  of  the  lower. 
Angels  by  their  natural  powers  have  knowledge  of 
God  far  greater  than  men  can  have,  but  imperfect 
in  itself.  They  have  a  limited  knowledge  of  future 
events.  The  angels  are  possessed  of  will,  which 
diners  from  the  intellect  in  that,  while  they  have 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  their  will  is  only  in  the 
direction  of  the  good.  Their  will  is  free,  and  they 
are  devoid  of  passion.  The  angels  are  not  co-eternal 
with  God,  but  were  created  by  Him  ex  nihilo  at  a 
point  in  time  (this  is  strictly  deftde) ;  their  creation 
was  not  prior  to  that  of  the  material  world  (the 
contrary  opinion  is  here  permitted).  The  angels 
were  created  in  a  state  of  natural,  not  super- 
natural, beatitude.  Although  they  could  love 
God  as  their  Creator,  they  were  incapable  of  the 
beatific  vision  except  by  Divine  grace.  They 
are  capable  of  acquiring  merit,  whereby  perfect 
beatitude  is  attained ;  subsequently  to  its  attain- 
ment they  are  incapable  of  sin.  Their  beatitude 
being  perfected,  they  are  incapable  of  progress. 

Concerning  evil  spirits,  Aquinas'  teaching  is 
briefly  as  follows.  Their  sin  is  only  pride  and 
envy.  The  devil  desired  to  he  as  God.  No  demons 
are  naturally  evil,  but  all  fell  by  the  exercise  of 
their  free  will.  The  fall  of  the  devil  was  not  simul- 
taneous with  his  creation,  otherwise  God  would  be 
the  cause  of  evil.  Hence  there  was  some  kind  of 
interval  between  the  creation  and  the  fall  of  the 
demons.  The  devil  was  originally  the  greatest  of 
all  the  angels ;  his  sin  was  the  cause  of  that  of  the 
other  fallen  angels,  by  incitement  but  not  by  com- 
pulsion. The  number  of  the  fallen  angels  is  smaller 
than  that  of  those  who  have  persevered.  The 
minds  of  demons  are  obscured  by  the  deprivation 
of  the  knowledge  of  ultimate  truth  ;  they  possess, 
however,  natural  knowledge.  Just  as  the  good 
angels,  after  their  beatification,  are  determined 
in  their  goodness,  so  the  will  of  the  evil  angels 
is  fixed  in  the  direction  of  evil.  The  demons 
suffer  pain,  which,  however,  is  not  of  a  sensory 
character.  They  have  a  double  abode — hell,  where 
they  torture  the  damned,  and  the  air,  where  they 
incite  men  to  evil. 

(e)  The  foregoing  will  give  some  idea  of  the 
teaching  of  the  scholastics  on  the  nature  of  spirits 
in  its  developed  form.  Many  other  questions  were 
raised  which  it  is  impossible  to  discuss  here ;  but 
one  further  instance  may  be  given,  viz.  the  specu- 
lation as  to  the  manner  in  which  angels  hold  com- 
munication with  each  other.  This  matter  is  treated 
by  Albertus  Magnus  and  Alexander  of  Hales.  This 
communication  is  effected  immediately,  and  the 
speech  of  the  angels  is  described  by  Albertus 
Magnus  as  'innuitio,'  by  Alexander  of  Hales  as 
'nutus'  (cf.  Alb.  Magn.  Sum.  Theol.  2,  tr.  9, 
quaBst.  35,  m.  2 ;  Alex.  Hal.  Summa,  pt.  ii.  queest. 
27,  m.  6). 

(/)  Finally,  we  may  quote  one  14th  century 
authority,  namely,  Tauter  (t  1361),  who,  though, 
like  his  contemporaries,  he  follows  the  Dionysian 
classification  of  spirits,  yet  expresses  himself  with 
much  reserve  about  the  nature  and  character  of 
angels.  The  following  passage  is  contained  in  his 
sermon  on  Michaelmas  Day  : 

'With  what  words  we  may  and  ought  to  speak  of  these  pure 
■pirits  I  do  not  know,  for  they  have  neither  hands  nor  feet. 


neither  shape  nor  form  nor  matter ;  and  what  shall  we  say  of 
a  being  which  has  none  of  these  things,  and  which  cannot  l»e 
apprehended  by  our  senses  ?  What  they  are  is  unknown  to  us, 
nor  should  this  surprise  us,  for  we  do  not  know  ourselves,  viz. 
our  spirit,  by  which  we  are  made  men,  and  from  which  we 
receive  all  the  good  we  possess.  How  then  could  we  know 
this  exceeding  great  spirit,  whose  dignity  far  surpasses  all  the 
dignity  which  the  world  can  possesB?  Therefore  we  speak  of 
the  works  which  Uiey  perform  towards  us.  hut  not  of  their 
nature.' 

With  regard  to  the  development  of  the  cultus 
of  the  angels  during  this  period,  the  following 
observations  may  suffice.  Dedication  of  churches 
to  angels  and  especially  to  St.  Michael  became  far 
more  common,  both  in  the  East  and  in  the  West. 
With  regard  to  festivals  of  angels  we  find  special 
offices  in  the  mediaeval  breviaries  by  which  the 
unofficial  cultus  of  the  angels  obtained  formal 
recognition.  The  names  of  individual  angels  are 
encountered  in  many  litanies,  and,  finally,  the 
cultus  of  the  guardian  angels  received  official  sanc- 
tion when  a  feast  in  their  honour  was  instituted 
(October  2nd)  after  the  Reformation.  No  doubt 
the  introduction  into  the  formal  liturgy  of  the 
Church  lingered  behind  the  practice  of  popular 
devotion,  in  this  as  in  other  matters. 

In  conclusion,  we  may  remark  that,  at  the  Refor- 
mation, Protestant  theologians  retained  their  belief 
in  good  and  evil  spirits  ;  even  maintaining  that  the 
former  intercede  for  mankind,  but  forbidding  any 
invocation.  This  belief,  based  on  Scripture,  under- 
went considerable  modification  in  the  18th  cent., 
which  witnessed  many  and  various  attempts  at 
rationalization  in  different  directions.  The  begin- 
ning of  the  19th  cent,  was  marked  by  a  revival 
among  Protestants  of  the  belief  in  angels  expressed 
'in  a  philosophic  and  idealizing  sense'  (Hagen- 
bach,  Hist,  of  Doctrines,  iii.  193,  334  f. ).  It  may 
be  said  that  among  modern  writers  of  this  school 
the  whole  subject  has  ceased  to  excite  any 
interest  either  speculative  or  practical.  In  the 
Roman  Church  we  cannot  detect  any  change  in 
belief  or  practice  concerning  the  existence  of  good 
and  evil  spirits,  though  we  may  point  to  certain 
indications  of  a  tendency  to  discount  the  subtleties 
of  mediaeval  speculation  on  the  subject  (Lieber- 
mann,  Instit.  Theol.  lib.  iii.  cap.  2,  art.  1,  in  vol. 
iii.  p.  280).  In  the  Anglican  Church  the  belief  in 
angels  has  the  fullest  liturgical  recognition,  though 
the  subject  is  hardly  dealt  with  in  her  formu- 
laries. The  invocation  of  angels  was  defended 
by  some  of  the  Caroline  divines :  the  practice  of 
dedicating  churches  to  angels  has  remained  un- 
broken. In  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  the 
29th  of  Sept.,  still  known  in  the  Roman  calendar 
as  the  '  Dedicatio  Sancti  Michaelis  Archangeli,'  has 
become  the  feast  of  St.  Michael  and  All  Angels. 

The  comparative  lack  of  interest  felt  in  the 
whole  question  of  the  existence  and  nature  of 
good  and  evil  spirits  may  be  explained  by  refer- 
ence to  the  fact  that,  while  belief  in  the  exist- 
ence of  such  spirits  is  generally  accepted  by 
Catholic  theologians,  there  is  still  to  be  found 
a  strong  reaction  from  the  excessive  speculation 
of  scholasticism. 

Literature. — G.  Bareille,  '  Angelologies  d'apres  les  Peres, 
in  Diet,  de  th£ol.  cathol.,  Paris,  1903 ;  J.  Baudot,  The  Roman 
Breviary.  London,  1909 ;  S.  Baumer,  Hist,  du  bre'viaire,  ed. 
Biron,  Paris,  1905 ;  L.  Duchesne,  Christian  Worship,  Eng.  tr.3, 
London,  1910 ;  C.  L.  Feltoe,  Sacramentarium  Leonianum, 
Cambridge,  1S96 ;  K.  R.  Hagenbach,  Hist,  of  Christian  Doc- 
trines, Eng.  tr.,  Edinburgh,  18S0  ;  A.  Harnack,  Hist,  of  Dogma, 
Eng.  tr.,  Edinburgh,  7  vols.,  1894-9  ;  J.  P.  Kirsch,  The  Doctrine 
of  the  Communion  of  Saints  in  the  Ancient  Church,  Eng.  tr., 
Edinburgh,  1910;  H.  Leclercq,  in  DACL,  vol.  i.  8.v.  'Anges,* 
alBO  Manuel  d'arche~ol.  chr6t.,  Paris,  1907  [especially  valuable 
for  angels  in  art] ;  L.  Liebermann,  Instit.  Theol.,  Louvain, 
1833;  W.  B.  Marriott,  in  DC  A,  vol.  i.  s.v.  'Angels  and  Arch- 
angels' ;  D.  Rock,  The  Church  of  our  Fathers,  ed.  Hart-Frere, 
London.  1905 ;  J.  Schwane,  Dogmengesch.,  Freiburg  im  Br. 
1S62-82;  J.  Tixeront,  Hist,  des  dogmes,  Paris,  1907;  H.  Den- 
zinger,  Enchiridion  Symbolorumw,  Freiburg  im  Br.  1908; 
Thesaurus  Patrum,  Milan,  1830.  H.  L.  PASS. 


584 


'DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Coptic) 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Coptic). —The 
beliefs  of  the  Coptic  Christians  on  the  subject  of 
demons  and  spirits  were  derived  from  those  of 
their  pagan  predecessors  intheGrseco-Roman  period 
(see  '  Egyptian '  art.  below),  and  show  interest- 
ing traces  of  Gnostic  influence.  In  spells  to  ward 
off  the  attacks  of  devils  the  designations  of  the 
seons  are  given,  and  the  mysterious  magical  names 
of  the  spirits  are  recited,  confused  in  true  Gnostic 
fashion  with  the  Hebrew  appellations  of  the  Deity. 
Here  is  a  typical  invocation  : 

'  Pantokrator  lao  Sabaoth  M6neoufl  Soneous  Arkaeous  (?) 
Adonai  Ia6  Eldi,  who  is  in  the  Seventh  Heaven  and  judgeth  the 
evil  and  the  good :  I  conjure  thee  to-day,  thou  that  providest 
(or  me  the  twenty  thousand  demons  which  stand  at  the  river 
Euphrates,  beseeching  the  Father  twelve  times,  hour  by  hour, 
that  lie  give  rest  unto  all  the  dead.' 

Here  we  have  the  Gnostic  spirit  Ia6  confused 
(naturally  enough)  with  the  Deity  (Jahweh),  but 
he  is  not  the  Deity  who  is  appealed  to  later  on  as 
'the  Father.'  However,  Ia6  Sabaoth  in  Coptic 
spells  is  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from  the  Deity. 
Good  spirits  are  invoked  as 

*  ye  who  are  upon  the  northern  and  eastern  sides  of  Antioch. 
There  is  a  myrtle-tree,  whose  name  is  the  Achelousian  (sic)  lake 
which  floweth  from  beneath  the  throne  of  lad  Sabadth.' 

This  is  a  very  curious  confusion  of  classical  Hades- 
allusions  with  the  Gnostic-Christian  throne  of  lad- 
Jahweh.  For  the  rest,  it  is  the  usual  gibberish 
of  the  medicine-man.  The  names  of  the  Deity 
and  those  of  the  angels  are  often  confused : 
Emmanouel  appears  as  the  name  of  an  angel, 
with  Tremouel  and  Abraxiel ;  the  last  has  a  very 
Gnostic  sound. 

Chief  among  the  good  spirits  were,  of  course, 
the  archangels— sometimes  four,  sometimes  seven  : 
'  those  who  are  within  the  veil '  (KaTair4ra<r/ia). 
Each  man  had  a  guardian  angel,  who  specially 
protected  him  against  evil.  With  the  angels  are 
invoked  also  the  cherubim  and  seraphim,  and  the 
four-and-twenty  elders,  and  even  the  four  beasts 
that  uphold  the  throne  of  the  Father.  These  were 
all  conceived  as  objective  spiritual  beings,  to  be 
invoked  in  prayer  against  evil.  The  names  or 
descriptions  of  the  spirits  had  to  be  known,  or 
they  could  not  be  invoked  :  some  appear  named 
after  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  others  are  merely 
'  those  who  come  up  with  the  great  stars  that 
light  the  earth.'  This  is  a  very  old  Egyptian 
touch,  and  reminds  us  of  the  ancient  dead  who 
were  thought  to  walk  among  the  stars,  the 
akhemu-sek. 

Among  the  evil  spirits  we  find,  of  course,  Satan, 
whose  name  in  one  case  is  Zet — an  interesting 
survival  of  the  name  of  the  old  Egyptian  Typhonic 
god  Set.  Fate  (Moipa)  seems  to  occur  as  an  evil 
demon.  Disease  was  thought  to  be  largely  due  to 
the  attacks  of  devils,  and  especially  so  in  the  case 
of  epilepsy.  It  has  been  conjectured,  with  prob- 
ability, by  Crura  (Catalogue  of  the  Coptic  MSS 
in  the  British  Museum,  1905,  p.  253,  n.  9)  that 
the  name  iirCKT]\j/la.  has  been  corrupted  into  the 
name  of  a  female  demon,  Aberselia,  Berselia,  or 
Berzelia,  who  appears  in  an  Ethiopic  transcription 
as  Werzelya.  Berselia  was  apparently  regarded 
as  a  flying  vampire,  and  classed  in  Coptic  vocabu- 
laries as  a  kind  of  bird.  A  demon  of  the  mid- 
day heat  appears  in  the  Ethiopic  versions  of  the 
'  Prayer  of  S.  Sisinnius,'  with  the  '  Werzelya ' 
mentioned  above  (references  in  Crum,  loc.  cit.). 

Magical  charms  ((pvXaKTrjpta)  against  the  attack 
of  demons  were  common  enough.  They  were 
usually  written  on  slips  of  parchment  and  enclosed 
in  a  little  leather  box,  generally  tied  to  the  arm  or, 
no  doubt,  hung  about  the  body  just  as  the  modern 
charm  of  the  Egyptian  fellah  is  worn.  The 
contents  are  usually  vague  invocations,  as  has 
been  seen.  One  of  the  finest  is  the  MS  Or.  5987 
of    the    British    Museum    (published    by    Crum, 


op.  cit.  1008),  from  which  excerpts  have  been 
given  above.  Cf.  art.  CHABMS  AND  AMULETS 
(Abyssinian). 

The  usual  Coptic  word  for  a  demon  or  spirit, 
good  or  evil,  is  ih,  which  is  the  Old  Egyp.  for  a 
good  spirit.  The  term  hik,  for  an  evil  spirit, 
which  is  the  same  as  Old  Egyp.  hekau,  '  magic ' 
or  '  enchantment,'  occurs  occasionally.  The  appel- 
lation refiaar,  '  sunderer,'  '  divider,'  is  a  tr.  of  the 
Gr.  dt.&po\os,  which  is  itself  often  used  in  Coptic. 
For  '  angel '  the  Gr.  fiyyeXos  is  used. 

Literature. — In  addition  to  that  cited  in  the  text,  see  list  of 
authorities  appended  to  art.  Charms  and  Amulets  (AbyBsinian). 

H.  R.  Hall. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Egyptian).— i. 
Scope  of  the  article. — The  delimitation  of  an 
investigation  on  the  subject  of  demons  and  spirits 
presents  no  little  difficulty  in  religions  which  are 
of  so  distinctly  animistic  a  character  as  those  of 
Egypt.  In  the  first  place,  we  cannot  divide  the 
subject  and  study  angelology  and  demonology 
separately,  because  spirits  are  never  good  or  bad 
by  constitution  or  in  their  origin  ;  this  aspect  is  of 
relatively  secondary  formation  or  date  (see  Dualism 
[Egyp.]).  In  the  second  place,  the  various  kinds 
of  demons  or  spirits  of  the  dead,  although  in  very 
many  cases  their  characteristics,  powers,  attri- 
butes, and  dwelling-places  are  identical  with  those 
of  the  other  spirits,  really  belong  to  a  different 
category  from  the  latter  (see  below,  §  9  ;  and  cf. 
art.  State  of  the  Dead  [Egyp.]).  Lastly,  with 
such  a  vast  array  of  demons,  properly  so-called,  as 
we  have  in  Egypt,  a  short  account  like  the  present 
can  give  only  the  general  characteristics,  while,  as 
to  particular  personifications,  it  can  mention  only 
the  principal  ones  whose  active  and  definite  role 
is  witnessed  to  by  texts  or  representations.  In  a 
world  in  which  all  beings  and  objects  possess  a 
'  demon '  or  '  demons,'  we  must  confine  our  atten- 
tion to  those  which  are  of  special  importance  in 
the  life  of  the  gods  or  of  men. 

2.  Pre-historic  demons  and  spirits. — Our  infor- 
mation on  the  earliest  period  is  preserved  in  the 
earliest  texts  (numerous  chapters  of  the  Book 
of  the  Dead),  some  of  them  going  back  even  to 
pre-historic  times  (as  the  funerary  chapters  of 
the  proto-Theban  coffins,  certain  parts  of  the 
celebrated  ritual  of  'the  opening  of  the  mouth,' 
and  especially  the  Pyramid  Texts).  The  chief 
demons  and  spirits  in  these  are  called  sometimes 
biu,  sometimes  khuu  (see  below).  The  meaning 
of  the  special  terms  by  which  they  are  designated 
is  very  difficult  to  state  accurately.  Of  the  sig- 
nificance of  such  terms  as  afau,  utennu,  and  ashmu, 
we  must  admit  that  as  yet  we  have  no  precise 
knowledge.  The  passing  allusions  in  a  very  few 
texts  seem  to  indicate  that  they  were  conceived 
under  the  form  of  '  devouring  spirits,'  troops  of 
monkeys,  lizards,  and  hawks.  These  are,  in  any 
case,  survivals  of  the  most  ancient  periods.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  jackal-demons  (Pyramid 
of  Pepy  II.,  line  849).  The  higher  and  lower 
'  Beings  of  Sit '  lead  us  to  suppose  a  classification 
of  spirits  into  heavenly  and  earthly.  The  rokhitu 
are,  according  to  the  texts,  both  spirits  full  of 
wisdom  and  personifications  of  the  powers  opposed 
to  (and  vanquished  by)  Egypt  or  the  gods  of  Egypt. 
There  is  much  discussion  as  to  the  best  translation 
of  this  word.  The  present  writer  thinks  that  the 
French  word  malin,  'mischievous,'  might  be 
taken  as  an  exact  equivalent  of  the  Egyptian 
term  with  its  double  meaning.  The  urshu  play 
a  somewhat  more  definite  part  of  '  watchers.' 
They  are  bands  of  demons  who  watch,  lie  in  wait 
for,  keep  their  eyes  upon.  This  function  has 
followed  naturally  from  the  ordinary  evolution 
of  meaning  :  from  having  simply  designated  an 
individual  characteristic,   neither  good  nor   bad, 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Egyptian) 


685 


it  has  become  a  protective  function  of  a  specially 
determined  group  of  men  or  a  locality,  heavenly 
or  earthly.  The  hunmamit  are  often  mentioned  ; 
they  even  figure  in  a  number  of  representations 
that  have  not  yet  been  noticed — if,  as  the  present 
writer  suggests,  it  is  indeed  figures  of  these  spirits 
that  are  carved  on  several  parts  of  the  sacred 
furniture  (tabernacles,  shrines  of  the  sacred  barque, 
supports  for  vases  or  utensils  of  worship),  repre- 
sented in  a  number  of  temple  bas-reliefs  and  in 
frescoes  of  Theban  tombs.  They  have  hardly 
ever  been  studied,  except  by  Budge  (Gods  of  the 
Egyptians,  i.  159),  who  quotes,  without  approving, 
the  view  that  they  are  the  great  flock  of  souls  of 
future  generations.  This  view  does  not  seem 
sufficiently  borne  out  by  the  texts.  The  hun- 
mamit of  the  primitive  cults  seem  rather  to  have 
been  swarms  of  spirits  of  a  beneficent  character, 
in  the  sense  that  they  watched  over  the  safety  of 
the  sun,  at  the  time  when  the  religious  world 
consisted  of  innumerable  bodies  of  spirits  and 
an  impersonal  sky-god  with  no  precise  attributes, 
►nd  when  the  various  heavenly  bodies  (even  the 
most  important  ones,  like  the  sun)  were  entrusted 
to  the  care  of  spirits,  who  directed  their  move- 
ments, defended  them,  repulsed  their  enemies, 
etc.  In  the  historical  period,  the  power  and  in- 
dividuality of  the  gods  proper  were  detached  from 
the  mass  of  spirits,  and  left  a  more  and  more 
vague  r61e  to  all  the  demons  of  this  category. 
The  hunmamit  are  also  often  confused,  in  the 
Theban  texts,  with  the  sun's  energy,  and  are,  it 
would  appear,  its  effluences  or  rays.  Some  also 
become  angel-choirs,  traditional  accessaries,  and 
practically  a  simple  motif  of  ornamental  symbol- 
ism attached  to  certain  objects  of  ritual  and  wor- 
ship. They  may  be  compared,  from  this  point  oj 
view,  with  various  angels  and  spirits  of  Oriental 
angelology,  such  as,  e.g.,  the  cherubim  (q.v.). 

An  important  class  of  demons  is  made  up  of  the 
'  spirits'  (bin)  (1)  of  Pu  and  Dapu,  (2)  of  the  East 
and  the  West,  (3)  of  Khimunu,  (4)  of  Nekhen,  and 
(5)  of  Heliopolis.  The  polytheism  of  the  historic 
period  reduced  these  spirits  also  to  the  role  of 
simple  attendants,  Who  hailed  the  sun  when  it 
rose  (or  the  king  on  his  coronation,  etc.),  carried 
the  litters  of  the  Divine  bari,  and  performed  other 
humble  or  vague  functions  (see  below).  Theology 
has  made  several  attempts  to  assimilate  them  to 
secondary  gods  of  the  pantheon  with  proper  names 
(e.g.  Book  of  the  Dead,  '  Chapters  on  knowing  the 
biu  of  .  .  .').  These  explanations  at  least  enable 
us  to  reconstruct  several  of  the  phases  of  their 
original  function,  of  which  the  geographical  sym- 
metries (earthly  or  heavenly)  are  a  survival. 
These  demons  were  once  the  guardian  genii  of 
the  geometrical  divisions  (two  or  four)  of  the 
universe ;  they  supported  the  mass  of  the  firma- 
ment at  its  extremities,  and  welcomed  or  de- 
stroyed the  souls  of  the  dead  as  they  arrived  at 
the  borders  of  the  earth.  Their  stellar  r61e  also 
seems  to  have  been  considerable ;  they  inhabit 
certain  constellations,  or  the  sanctuaries  on  earth 
that  are  the  magical  counterparts  of  those  regions 
of  the  heavenly  sphere.  Sometimes  they  inhabit 
a  special  region  of  the  firmament  (e.g.  the  biu  who 
inhabit,  in  the  territory  of  Heliopolis,  the  '  Abode 
of  the  Combatant,'  the  magical  representation  of 
this  celestial  abode) ;  sometimes  they  escort  certain 
heavenly  bodies  (stars  or  planets),  whose  guardians 
they  are,  across  the  vault  of  heaven.  Polytheism" 
makes  these  bodies  divine  persons,  and  reduces 
them  to  the  position  of  devotees  of  the  sun. 
Finally,  theology  confuses  them  more  and  more 
with  the  various  'souls'  of  the  gods,  employing 
the  evolution  in  meaning  of  the  word  biu  itself. 
A  great  number  of  these  spirits  are  classed 
together   under   the   vague  title  of   '  followers  of 


Hor,'  whence  the  priesthood  deduced  more  and 
more  lofty  funerary  meanings  in  relation  to  the  lot 
of  the  dead. 

The  historic  period,  however,  preserves  a  fugitive 
r61e  for  them  on  certain  occasions  of  immemorial 
tradition,  just  as  the  material  part  of  the  cult 
continues  to  reproduce  their  images.  The  '  spirits ' 
of  the  North  and  South  become  a  sort  of  heraldic 
representation  of  the  forces  of  the  world  considered 
as  composed  of  two  halves,  or  they  are  transformed 
into  genii  guarding  the  frontiers  of  Egypt,  the 
sum  of  the  whole  earth.  They  play  a  part  also  in 
several  incidents  in  the  coronation  of  the  king. 
Other  spirits,  as  the  'demons'  of  one  of  the 
Anubis,  regarded  as  a  constellation  of  the  North- 
ern world  (cf.  Brugsch,  Bel.  und  Myth.,  Leipzig, 
1884-1888,  p.  671),  perhaps  the  Great  Bear  (cf.  the 
jackal-demons  mentioned  above),  or  as  the  genii 
of  other  parts  of  the  astral  world,  reappear  as 
figures  in  the  mysterious  ceremonies  of  the  royal 
coronation  or  the  jubilee  (see  Naville,  Festival 
Hall,  London,  1892,  pi.  ix.-xi.,  for  specimens  of 
these  figures,  whose  mystical  value  has  been  very 
much  exaggerated  by  modern  writers).  As  a 
general  rule,  however,  their  role  is  a  purely  tradi- 
tional one,  and  their  exact  nature  does  not  seem 
to  have  been  early  understood. 

Besides  the  innumerable  representations  of  biu  and  rokhitu 
in  statues,  statuettes,  bas-reliefs,  frescoes,  etc.,  several  other 
spirits  have  left  material  traces  of  their  former  r61e  in  parts  of 
sacred  furniture,  on  which  they  are  seen  as  traditional  tig/urea, 
symbolic  or  even  purely  ornamental.  The  most  characteristic 
are  certain  animal  figures  on  sacred  vessels  and  on  some  of  the 
statuettes  traditionally  placed  on  board  the  sacred  barques 
used  in  processions  to  convey  the  Egyptian  gods,  in  repre- 
sentations of  their  journeys  in  the  other  world.  Thus  the 
'griffin/  which  is  found  on  the  bow  of  all  the  barques  of  solar 
gods,  seems  to  have  been  one  of  these  spirits  before  it  became 
confused  with  the  '  warlike  soul '  of  the  god ;  and  the  same 
may  be  said  of  the  birds  that  are  placed  in  rows  on  the  bow  of 
the  boat  of  Ra  (cf.  the  boats  of  el-Bersheh),  or  those  on  the 
strange  boat  of  Sokharis  (a  good  example  in  the  temple  of 
Deir  el-Medineh).  The  interpretations  of  these  figures  as  the 
'  followers '  or  as  the  'souls'  of  the  god  are  of  later  date,  and 
represent  two  attempts  to  adapt  them  to  developed  beliefs. 
They  Beetn  really  to  be  a  survival  of  the  time  when  these 
groups  of  'demons'  had  an  active  share  in  the  general  direc- 
tion of  elementary  forces.  The  predominance  of  '  functional 
epithets  '  serving  as  collective  names  for  the  majority  of  these 
demons  is  perhaps  one  of  the  most  significant  facts  in  this 
connexion. 

The  whole  question  of  these  groups  of  spirits  calls  for  an 
exhaustive  study,  which  would  yield  the  most  ancient  form 
of  Egyptian  religious  thought  that  could  be  attained,  and 
would  also  explain  the  development  of  forms  of  this  kind 
(similar  to  those  of  certain  religions  of  modern  savage  Africa) 
into  polytheisms  proper.  Such  a  study  should  be  joined 
logically  with  an  account  of  primitive  Egyptian  religion,  com- 
prising both  the  animistic  manifestations  of  all  kinds  of 
'  spirits '  and  the  existence  of  a  sky-god  similar  to  the  god 
postulated  in  so  many  parts  of  the  continent  of  Africa.  ThiB 
vague,  primordial  god — who,  however,  has  no  demiurgical 
functions  whatsoever — is  found  in  Egypt  in  two  parallel  forms, 
proceeding  from  two  great  local  systems  of  mythology  :  (1)  the 
sky-god  Hor,  and  (2)  the  sky-goddess  Nuit  (subdivided  even 
earlier  into  the  day-sky,  Nuit,  and  the  night-sky,  Naut).  A 
foundation  might  be  found  in  the  data  supplied  for  one  part  in 
the  very  remarkable  work  of  Budge  in  his  Gods  of  the  Egyptians 
(see  Lit.). 

3.  Historic  period  :  number,  aspects,  forms. — 
The  Egyptian  terrestrial  and  ultra -terrestrial 
worlds  are  naturally  peopled  with  an  infinite  num- 
ber of  demons  and  spirits.  But,  if  we  look  closely, 
we  find  that  this  body  of  spirits  is  not  so  great  as 
that  of  many  other  religions.  It  shows  neither  the 
abundance  of  the  Chaldseo- Assyrian  religions  or  of 
Mycenaean  demonology  (see  Pottier,  BCH,  1907, 
p.  259),  nor  even  the  crowd  of  devils  and  spirits 
of  Vedic  religion.  The  number  of  4,601,200  demons, 
given  in  ch.  lxiv.  of  the  Book  of  the  Dead,  is  a  &7ra£ 
Xeydfj.a'oi'  which  does  not  correspond  with  any  teach- 
ing or  fact  of  any  importance.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  ancient  Egypt  has  not,  to  our  present  know- 
ledge, left  any  of  those  terrible  lists  of  demons  and 
spirits  which  we  find  in  so  many  other  countries. 

These  legions  of  beings,  generally  invisible,  but 
always  provided   with   material   bodies,   are   per- 


686 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Egyptian) 


ceptible  to  men  at  certain  times,  or  to  those  who 
can  fortify  themselves  with  the  necessary  charms 
and  formulae.  Their  size  does  not  seem  ever  to 
have  been  a  question  of  interest  to  the  Egyptians. 
No  text  mentions  giants,  though  one  passage  in 
the  Book  of  the  Dead  speaks  of  demons  '  twelve 
feet  high'  (ch.  xliv.),  this  modest  figure  being 
evidently  the  summum.  None  of  the  numerous 
paintings  of  demons  of  the  under  world  makes 
them  any  larger  than  the  men  or  beasts  of  the 
terrestrial  world,  except  in  the  case  of  a  certain 
number  of  serpents  (where,  however,  as  a  rule,  we 
are  dealing  with  allegorical  or  symbolical  serpents). 
Nor  do  any  of  the  ancient  texts  make  allusion  to 
extraordinary  dimensions.  The  difference  between 
Egyptian  and  Oriental  religions  in  this  respect 
is  noteworthy.1  Another  difference  also  is  the 
absence  in  Egypt  generally  of  the  monstrous  or 
hideous  forms  which  are  very  characteristic  of  the 
majority  of  demonologies  known  to  us.  Most 
of  the  demons  of  the  '  hours  of  hell '  are  wild 
beasts,  reptiles,  lizards,  human  forms  with  black 
bodies  (shades  [?] ;  these  forms  are  more  especially 
the  '  enemies  of  Ra '),  or  somewhat  colourless  com- 
binations of  animal  and  human  forms.  The  demons 
who  frequent  the  way  to  the  other  world  in  the 
Book  of  the  Dead  are  especially  serpents,  croco- 
diles, and  monkeys.  (The  gigantic  insect  abshdit 
[cockroach  ?]  is  chiefly  an  artifice  of  the  artist  to 
show  up  the  traits  of  this  enemy  of  the  dead.) 
There  is  only  one  monster — with  a  lion's  tail,  the 
body  of  a  monkey  (?),  and  the  face  of  a  bearded 
man — which  has  some  claim  to  a  terrifying  appear- 
ance (Book  of  the  Dead,  ch.  xxiii,).  The  demons 
of  the  '  seven-headed  serpent '  type  of  the  Pyramids 
are  a  very  unimportant  exception.  Finally,  the 
fantastic  animals  of  the  desert — winged  lions  with 
hawks'  heads,  wild  beasts  with  serpents'  heads, 
with  winged  heads  placed  on  their  backs,  etc. — 
are  not,  as  we  have  said,  afrit,  or  demons.  It  was 
actually  believed  that  such  beings  existed  in  distant 
parts,  as  well  as  the  lion  with  human  head,  the 
prototype  of  the  Sphinx.  The  spirits,  good  and 
bad,  attached  to  the  celestial  world,  have  usually 
the  form  of  birds.  The  rokhitu  are  represented  as 
a  kind  of  hoopoe  still  existing  in  Upper  Egypt ; 
the  biu  have  hawks'  or  jackals'  heads — a  relic  of 
the  time  when  they  moved  under  the  complete 
forms  of  these  very  animals  ;  other  biu  are  entirely 
birds ;  the  hunmamit  are  either  birds  or  men  with 
birds'  heads  ;  and  the  evil  demons  proper,  the 
enemies  of  Ra  (see  below)  are  simply  serpents, 
antelopes,  gazelles,  crocodiles,  or  anthropoids. 

4.  Classes,  localities,  and  attributes. — In  the 
absence  of  demonologies  composed  by  the  Egyp- 
tians themselves,  we  may  form  a  material  estimate 
of  the  principal  kinds  of  '  spirits '  and  their  func- 
tions in  historical  Egypt  from  the  following  very 
condensed  account,  adopting  the  somewhat  rough, 
but  clear,  classification  of  spirits  according  to  the 
region  they  inhabit — the  sky,  the  earth,  the  other 
world.  This  classification  has  the  further  merit  of 
being  that  used  in  the  earliest  epochs  by  the  in- 
cantation formulse  of  the  magicians,  and  there  is, 
therefore,  a  possibility  that  it  corresponds,  to  a 
certain  exte».t,  with  the  divisions  imagined  by  the 
Egyptians  themselves. 

(a)  Tlie  celestial  world. — Several  of  the  pre- 
historic groups  already  mentioned  persist,  but 
with  a  much  less  important  position,  and  more 
and  more  confused  with  souls  or  manifestations 
of  the  gods.  A  certain  number  of  spirits  not 
mentioned  above  appear  in  the  representations, 
but  are  absorbed  in  a  subordinate  or  momentary 
1  The  Giant  Monkey,  Gigantic  Crocodile,  and  Great  Hippo- 
potamus of  the  Theban  texts  (cf.  Maspero,  Etudes  tgyptienties, 
'  Manuel  de  Hierarchic'  Paris,  lbS3)  are  terms  designating 
at  this  time  constellations,  and  not  stellar  spirits,  as,  indeed, 
is  shown  by  their  representations  in  the  astronomical  ceilings. 


function,  e.g.  the  bands  of  dog-headed  monkeys 
who  attend  the  sun  at  its  rising  and  setting — 
a  theme  popularized  in  thousands  of  papyrus- 
vignettes,  in  temple  bas-reliefs,  and  in  the  mag- 
nificent obelisk  statues  of  Luxor,  the  temple  of 
Maut,  and  the  great  temple  of  Ipsambul  of  the 
Theban  period ;  the  rowers  of  Ra's  barque  in  the 
9th  hour  of  his  voyage  round  the  world  ;  and  the 
jackals  that  draw  this  barque  at  the  11th  hour. 
In  the  r61e  of  all  these  anonymous  troops  of  demons 
we  have  a  clear  survival  of  the  time  when  they 
played  a  prominent  part  in  the  direction  and  pro- 
tection of  the  heavenly  bodies,  each  controlling  a 
definite  part  of  the  firmament,  and  to  this  point 
also  a  study  of  primitive  Egyptian  religion  ought 
to  devote  special  attention. 

The  material  fact  that  these  spirits  and  others  of  the  same 
type  were  carried  to  the  under  worlds  in  the  sun's  journey  is 
a  simple  artifice  of  Theban  theology,  and  Maspero  (Myth, 
archiol.  ii.  34  ff.)  has  shown  that  these  different  under  worlds, 
compiled  in  actual  geographical  order,  are  a  product  of  local 
mythologies  which  really  describe  the  world  of  night  and  the 
celestial  world. 

The  groups  of  very  feeble  demons  and  spirits  which  are 
devoured  by  the  stronger  ones  (Pyramid  Texts)  are  not  men- 
tioned in  the  texts  or  drawings  of  the  historic  period.  No  doubt 
the  whole  conception  was  thought  barbarous  (see  below). 

(b)  The  earth.— As  in  all  the  religions,  classical 
and  unclassical,  of  the  ancient  world,  the  universe 
of  Egyptian  religion  is  full  of  all  kinds  of  demons, 
closely  resembling  those  found  in  the  religions 
mentioned  above  or  among  the  savages  of  to-day. 
But  in  Egypt  there  is  no  proper  classification  of 
spirits  belonging  to  water,  to  rocks,  woods,  marshes, 
etc.  Furthermore,  their  multiple  r61es in  dreams, 
or  in  illnesses  of  man  or  beast,  seem  to  belong 
rather  to  the  popular  domain  than  to  official  beliefs. 
It  would  appear,  from  a  study  of  the  texts  Of  both 
kinds,  that  historic  Egypt  had  already,  to  a  great 
extent,  got  rid  of  that  naivete'  which  is  the  charac- 
teristic of  polydeemonism  in  primitive  Animism, 
and  which  persists  so  strikingly  in  Chaldseo-Assyria 
in  the  organized  cults.  The  distinction  between 
official  and  popular  religion,  however,  is  still  a 
delicate  question  of  the  appreciation  of  facts,  and 
especially  of  the  period.  It  is,  nevertheless,  cer- 
tain that  phenomena  such  as  storms,  floods,  and 
epidemics  are  attributed  to  the  gods  in  historic 
Egypt,  and  not  to  the  demons,  as  in  Chaldaso- 
Assyrian  belief.  On  the  other  hand,  the  inscrip- 
tions from  the  temple  of  Abydos  prove  that  the 
priesthood  frankly  admitted  that  demons  were 
continually  prowling  about  in  the  air,  ready  to 
do  harm,  and  that  it  was  necessary  to  purify  the 
king's  retinue  with  charms,  as  it  proceeded  to  the 
temple.  The  fumigations  and  incantations  that 
took  place  at  funerals  bear  witness  to  the  same 
practice,  while  the  famous  inscription  of  the  Prin- 
cess possessed  of  Bakhtan  proves  the  official  belief 
in  demoniacal  possession.  The  literature  shows  us 
that  the  demons,  as  in  all  other  countries,  inhabited 
by  preference  desert  places,  the  borders  of  marshes, 
and  cemeteries  (where  they  become  confused  with 
ghosts  properly  so  called) ;  and  it  is  a  certain  fact 
that  their  power  was  greatest  at  night.  They  were 
also  most  powerful  on  certain  days  of  ill  omen,  on 
which  the  influence  of  the  good  gods  was  dimin- 
ished, as  is  proved  by  the  horoscopic  papyri  of 
Leyden  and  London.  The  light  of  the  sun  put 
them  to  flight.  They  were  combated,  according 
to  varying  circumstances,  by  means  of  talismans, 
amulets,  incantations,  etc.,  and  in  all  these  innu- 
merable details  Egyptian  differs  from  other  reli- 
gions in  a  material  way  only,  and  not  in  doctrine. 
It  is  also  very  difficult  to  see  a  specially  Egyptian 
characteristic  in  the  almost  complete  confusion  that 
exists,  in  all  these  attributes  of  the  earthly  demons, 
between  demons  proper  and  the  ghosts  of  the  dead  ; 
and,  as  the  latter  have  the  same  name  of  khuu  in 
a  number  of  cases,  it  is  sometimes  almost  impossible 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Egyptian) 


687 


to  distinguish  whether  such  and  such  a  case  of 
illness,  dreams,  possession,  torment,  etc.,  is  the 
work  of  a  demon  or  of  the  dead.  Sometimes  the 
Egyptian  text  is  quite  clear,  e.g.  in  the  formulje 
relating  to  '  the  imprisoning  of  the  shades  of  the 
dead  that  can  do  harm '  (Book  of  the  Dead,  ch.  xcii. 
line  10) ;  and  we  can  proceed  gradually  to  certain 
classifications  by  variants. 

When  well  considered,  Egyptian  ordinary  life  does  not  Beem 
to  have  been  so  much  overshadowed  and  tormented  by  the 
constant  fear  of  demons  as  in  the  case  of  many  other  religions 
of  civilized  and  non-civilized  peoples.  While  the  official  cult 
admits  the  hidden  presence  of  numerous  demons,  we  do  not 
find  it  going  the  length  of  constantly  trying  to  dispel  them,  e.g. 
during  the  performance  of  duties,  at  the  opening  of  the  taber- 
nacle, or,  again,  at  the  time  of  sacrificing.  (Porphyry,  however, 
says  that  the  priests  beat  the  air  with  whips  to  put  the  demons  to 
flight  \dc  Philos.  ex  oraculis  haurienda,  ed.  Wolff,  1856,  p.  148].) 
The  Egyptians  do  not,  like  the  Indians,  trace  trenches  round 
their  offering.  (Notice,  however,  in  the  foundation-rites  of  a 
temple,  the  purification  of  the  ground  by  means  of  a  mock  chase 
of  evil  spirits,  performed  by  the  king  and  figures  dressed  as 
gods.)  Nor  does  any  Egyptian  text  ever  say  that  demons  are 
specially  dangerous  at  the  time  of  death,  as  is  taught,  e.g.,  in 
the  Avesta.  The  dead,  it  is  true,  are  protected  against  demons 
during  the  preparations  for  the  funeral ;  they  are  surrounded, 
on  their  way  to  the  grave,  by  every  kind  of  magical  precaution  ; 
at  the  grave  itself,  talismans  and  phylacteries  of  every  descrip- 
tion protect  the  coffin  and  mummy  (note  that  these  precautions 
are  meant  both  to  ward  off  the  demons  of  this  earth  as  they 
prowl  around  the  grave,  and  to  accompany  the  dead,  by  magic, 
on  his  journey  to  the  other  world) ;  mystic  eyes  are  painted  on 
the  proto-Theban  sarcophagus,  and  other  precautions  of  the  same 
kind  are  the  finishing  touches.  But  all  these  precautions  do 
not  amount  to  so  much  as  we  find,  in  this  connexion,  in  civilized 
religions  of  the  highest  organization  ;  and  we  may  say  that  the 
dying  Egyptian  was  not  tormented  by  terrors  of  the  demoniacal 
order  so  much  as  most  races  with  syBtems  of  organized  beliefs. 
We  must  not  be  misled  by  the  constant  presence  and  importance 
of  demons  in  the  literature.  No  one  would  think  of  maintaining 
that  the  thoughtof  Satan  and  his  demons  was  a  continual  weight 
on  the  ordinary  life  of  a  man  of  our  European  Middle  Ages  ;  and 
yet  the  popular  tales,  processes  of  justice,  legends,  and  even 
theology  itself,  gave  the  demons  of  this  time  a  power,  a  multi- 
plicity, and  a  constant  aggressiveness  which  are  greatly  in  excess 
of  anything  that  we  learn  of  ancient  Egypt  in  this  respect. 

(c)  The  other  world  (this  term  including  the  vari- 
ous claeses  of  regions  separating  Egypt  from  the 
abodes  of  the  dead,  under  whatever  form  they  may 
be  conceived,  and  these  abodes  themselves :  para- 
dise, Elysian  fields,  caverns,  'passages,'  rositiu, 
etc.). — An  account  of  all  the  demons  of  the  other 
world  cannot  be  attempted  here.  A  good  idea 
of  them  may  be  obtained  from  the  indexes  in 
the  various  editions  of  Budge's  Book  of  the  Dead, 
or  from  Maspero's  Etudes  de  mythologie  et 
cFarchiologie  igyptienne,  ii.  1-180  (for  the  royal 
tombs).  These  demoniacal  spirits  are  as  numerous 
as  the  devils  of  the  under  world  in  all  other  reli- 
gions. They  are  the  inhabitants  of  night.  It  is 
worthy  of  remark  that  none  of  them  has  any  sym- 
bolical value ;  the  majority  are  simple  repetitions 
of  beings  like  the  mischievous  or  terrifying  beings 
of  the  earth.  In  the  group  of  books  of  the  Book  of 
the  Dead  type  we  have  tree-spirits,  monkeys,  cro- 
codiles, a  considerable  variety  of  serpents,  lions, 
etc.,  and  the  vignettes  of  the  Theban  epoch  employ 
all  the  precision  that  could  be  desired  on  the  sub- 
ject. In  the  series  of  the  type  'Book  of  Hours,' 
'Book  of  Hell,'  'Book  of  the  Gates,'  etc.,  we  have 
a  more  sombre  view  of  the  demons,  yet  still  of  the 
same  specific  character  :  the  serpents  vomit  flames  ; 
a  great  number  of  these  demons,  in  the  shape  of 
men,  of  animals,  or  of  mixed  form,  are  armed  with 
weapons  of  various  kinds,  but  are  not  fantastic. 
Their  names  are  far  oftener  functional  epithets 
than  true  proper  names,  and  this  fact  is  of  import- 
ance for  the  historian  of  religions.  The  onomastic 
list,  however,  is  quite  short,  and  shows  the  poverty 
of  Egyptian  thought  on  this  point :  '  the  Archer,' 
'the  Pikeman,'  'the  Lancer,  'the  Cutter,'  'the 
Ripper,'  'the  Bounder,' etc.  The  female  demons 
have  the  same  names,  or  are  called  '  the  Lady  of 
Terror,'  '  the  Lady  of  the  Sword-thrusts,'  '  the 
Brave,'  'the  Violent.'  The  serpent  demons  are 
called  '  Life  of  the  Earth,'  '  He  who  lives  on  gods ' 


( =  eater  of  gods  [?]).  The  guardian  serpents  Akaba, 
Jetba,  and  Tokahiru,  and  the  viper  Naga  are  deities 
by  this  time  rather  than  demons  (see  below). 

Generally  speaking  (without  distinguishing  the 
various  classes  of  under-world  literature),  the  ori- 
ginal Animism  of  Egypt  is  reflected  in  the  number 
of  demons  that  are  simply  the  '  spirits '  of  material 
objects  :  a  thread  and  its  different  parts  (ch.  cliii.) ; 
a  boat,  each  part  of  which  has  its  genius  (ch.  xcviii. ) ; 
posts,  doors,  parts  of  a  building,  boxes,  etc.  This 
process  is  all  the  more  logical  from  the  fact  that 
Egyptian  beliefs  naturally  admitted  that  every 
object,  natural  or  manufactured,  on  this  earth 
possessed  a  spirit  or  a  demon — rocks  and  trees  as 
well  as  houses,  pillars,  sceptres,  clubs,  etc.  ;  and 
iconography  sometimes  shows  these  spirits  with 
their  heads  appearing  out  of  the  objects  they  in- 
habit. The  evolution  of  belief  consisted  mamly, 
here  as  elsewhere,  in  gradually  'detaching'  the 
'  spirits '  from  their  objects ;  and  the  demons  of 
our  present  discussion  were  transformed  step  by 
step  into  guardians,  and,i  in  the  case  of  some  of 
them,  into  masters,  of  these  objects.  The  latter 
privileged  members  have  contributed  to  the  number 
of  the  gods. 

5.  Nature. — By  means  of  a  large  number  of 
accurate  texts,  we  can  form  an  estimate  of  the 
constitutional  character  of  the  demons  and  spirits 
of  Egypt,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  ancient  texts  we 
can  get  back  to  the  very  beginning  of  their  forma- 
tion. All  our  information  is  in  absolute  conformity 
with  the  general  animistic  character  of  the  primi- 
tive religions  of  the  Nile  Valley.  The  universality 
of  'spirits'  in  Egypt  is  well  known,  and  we  have 
just  seen  that  there  is  not  a  single  being  or  object, 
natural  or  manufactured,  but  has  its  demon  or 
demons.  Their  different  names  of  biu  and  khuu 
did  not  imply  any  difference  of  nature  originally, 
and  the  ancient  texts  show,  by  variants,  that  the 
two  terms  are  frequently  interchanged.  They 
merely  signify  the  different  degrees  of  carnal 
materiality  of  these  souls  or  spirits  —  which  are 
always  material  (see  Body  [Egyp.]).  The  word 
biu  seems  later  to  have  tended  to  belong  to  demons 
and  spirits  of  a  beneficent  character,  while  the 
name  kh  uu  was  given  by  preference  to  maleficent 
spirits  ;  but  this  indefinite  classification  has  arisen 
purely  from  later  dualistic  thought  (see  Dualism 

[Egyp.]). 

Now,  these  texts  clearly  prove  that  the  demons 
are  absolutely  the  same  in  the  essentials  of  their 
nature  and  attributes  as  the  most  ancient  Egyp- 
tian gods.  The  formula?  confuse  them  constantly. 
Demons  and  gods  have  the  same  '  determinative ' 
in  hieroglyphic  script  (the  three  signs  of  the  '  axe ' 
[really  a  mast  with  two  pennants],  or  the  archaic 
sign  of  three  hawks  perched  on  a  sort  of  gibbet). 
At  first,  the  strongest  devoured  the  weakest  im- 
partially ;  and  later,  the  dead,  assimilated  by  magic 
to  these  strongest  members  (cf.  P3Tamid  of  Unas, 
line  506  ff.),  are  shown  devouring  the  notiru  (gods) 
as  well  as  the  khuu  (demons). 

A  single  characteristic  will  serve  to  distinguish 
them,  and  to  indicate  the  process  by  which  the 
gods  gradually  emerged  from  the  dense  crowd 
of  demons.  The  demons,  or  genii,  or  spirits,  are 
anonymous  groups,  with  only  a  collective  name, 
and  confined  to  a  special  activity  or  settled  func- 
tion. As  they  did  not  all  have  the  same  activity 
or  the  same  importance,  certain  groups  of  them 
rose  by  a  slow  process  of  elaboration  to  higher  dig- 
nity. The  others  remained  for  ever  a  few  millions 
of  obscure  spirits,  whose  mode  of  life  was  of  no 
importance ;  or  else  they  formed  the  troops  of 
spirits  of  which  examples  are  given  in  §  2.  la 
the  groups  with  important  functions,  the  charac- 
teristics led  to  fusion  with  a  more  individual  being 
provided  with  a  proper  name.     Difficult  as  it  is  to 


688 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Egyptian) 


draw  the  line  of  demarcation  between  a  god  and  a 
demon  in  such  a  conception,  a  careful  examination 
of  the  texts  leads  to  the  conclusion  that  the  mark 
of  a  god  is  possession  of  a  name.  A  demon  pos- 
sessing a  name  is  already  a  god,  a  notir.  The  case 
is  incontestable  for  well-established  gods  like  Sorku 
(the  crocodile)  and  Ririt  (the  hippopotamus) ;  it  is 
equally  incontestable  for  demons  like  Apopi  and 
the  twenty-three  great  serpents  of  the  Pyramid 
formula?,  or  the  other  reptiles  named  in  the  rest 
of  the  sacred  literature  ;  it  can  be  demonstrated 
for  demon*  like  the  cat  of  the  sacred  tree  ashdu  in 
the  famous  ch.  xvii.  of  the  Book  of  the  Dead,  and 
for  all  the  principal  demons  in  the  descriptions  of 
the  other  world.  Each  one  is  in  every  way  a  true 
god  from  the  time  that  it  has  a  name,  both  for  its 
life  and  for  its  aspect.  Power,  the  amount  of 
reverence  inspired,  and  the  importance  of  func- 
tions are  only  questions  of  degree,  insufficient  to 
separate,  in  this  religion,  a  number  of  humble  gods 
from  demons.  Even  specialization  in  a  unique 
or  momentary  action  is  not  a  criterion.  Naprit, 
demon  of  harvests,  Ranninit,  Maskhonit,  the 
'Seven  Hathors,'  and  many  others  of  this  type 
are  deities  rather  than  demons,  from  the  very  fact 
that  they  have  names ;  and,  if  the  cult  they  re- 
ceive is  humbler  than  that  of  other  gods,  it  is 
identical  in  conception  and  form.  (Here  there  is  a 
noteworthy  difference  from  what  is  said  of  Semitic 
spirits  by  Lagrange,  Bel.  sim.'*,  Paris,  1905,  p.  16.) 
We  may  now  class  the  innumerable  personalities  mentioned 
in  the  Egyptian  texts  not  among  the  demons  and  spirits,  but, 
more  rationally,  as  gods.  The  following  are  the  chief :  the 
spirits  of  the  seasons,  months,  days,  hours,  decani  (see  Calen- 
dar [Egyp.]),  the  winds,  planets,  stars,  etc.  The  astrological 
nature  of  nearly  all  these  entities  will  be  noticed  by  all,  and 
confirms  what  we  have  seen  of  the  stellar  character  of  numbers 
of  these  groups  of  spirits  before  polytheism.  The  texts  show, 
further,  that  a  number  of  those  spirits,  escaping  the  secondary 
character  of  the  mass,  were  treated  exactly  as  true  gods  by  the 
Egyptians,  with  a  tendency  to  be  assimilated  to  the  principal 
great  gods.  It  will  be  observed  also  that  the  demons  remaining 
in  anonymous  groups  still  retain  some  worship  on  certain  occa- 
sions in  the  historic  epoch.  Under  the  Hemphites,  for  example, 
there  are  priests  of  the  '  spirits '  of  Heliopolis,  Euto,  and  Nekhen 
(=el-Kab). 

The  fact  that  demons  become  gods  by  a  process 
of  'emergence'  goes  a  long  way  to  explain  why 
there  are  not  in  Egyptian  religion,  as  in  other  re- 
ligions, lists  and  hierarchies  of  demons  and  angels. 
Not  only  is  there  nothing  resembling  the  sort  of 
fixed  castes  of  angelologies  or  demonologies  of  other 
races,  but  there  are  not  even  chiefs  of  groups  or 
protagonists,  like,  e.g.,  the  Chalda?an  demon  of 
the  south-west  wind.  The  fact  is  that,  as  soon  as 
a  primitive  group  attained  to  importance  in  the 
gradual  comprehension  of  the  world-forces,  it  de- 
tached a  god  from  itself,  who  absorbed  his  group 
entirely  or  became  a  chief ;  so  that  the  demons, 
good  and  bad,  always  arise  directly  from  a  god, 
nd  naturally  share  his  character  and  attributes. 

6.  Rale  and  character. — Just  as  the  demons  have 
at  first  no  hierarchy,  so  they  have  no  general  char- 
acteristic r61e,  no  functions  of  general  cosmogony, 
directed  for  or  against  the  harmony  of  the  KoV/ios. 
The  distribution  of  their  activities  into  functions 
that  are  always  very  limited  and  highly  specialized 
is  a  strong  proof  of  the  antiquity  of  their  formation. 
Their  power  does  not  go  the  length  of  raising  a 
scourge  like  a  tempest  (see  above),  or,  like  the 
Indian  demons,  of  preventing  rain.  This  paucity 
of  attributes,  in  a  character  otherwise  always  ma- 
terial, and  this  distribution  of  groups  of  spirits 
without  classification,  make  it  quite  comprehensible 
how  their  final  r61e,  and  their  good  or  bad  aspect 
depended,  in  the  era  of  polytheistic  formations, 
upon  the  relative  character  of  the  gods  round  whom 
they  were  grouped,  since  such  a  god  was  simply 
the  synthesis  of  the  activities  of  which  the  demons 
were  the  analysis.  The  god  himself  was  at  first  of 
vague  significance  as  regards  his  general  rSle  in  the 


progress  of  the  World ;  it  was  only  when  he  had 
acquired  a  more  precise  energy  that  he  brought 
along  with  him  his  troop  of  demons — good  or  bad 
for  man.  It  would  thus  be  precarious  to  attempt 
much  precision  regarding  Egyptian  religions.  The 
necessarily  un-moral  character  of  the  spirits  does 
not  allow  of  any  classification  which  would  arrange 
them  by  '  angelology  '  and  '  denionology ' — these 
terms  being  used  with  a  moral  signification.  Even 
in  the  historic  period  ^heir  original  character  re- 
mained ineffaceable  :  the  demons  were,  first  of  all, 
the  inhabitants  of  a  place  or  an  object,  the  guar- 
dians of  a  locality,  of  a  door,  a  passage ;  they  ended, 
more  or  less,  by  having  a  god  as  sovereign  ;  while 
they  modelled  themselves  on  his  nature  and  tend- 
encies. But  one  point  is  clear,  that  they  are 
subject  to  their  god,  and  consequently  favourable 
and  subject  to  his  relatives  and  friends,  and  hostile 
to  others.  They  are,  then,  good  spirits  for  the  living 
or  dead  man  who  is  assimilated  by  worship  or  magic 
to  the  congregation  of  their  master,  bad  spirits  to 
all  others  ;  and  the  whole  Book  of  the  Dead,  which 
has  not  the  least  moral  character  (even  the  famous 
ch.  cxxv.  of  Confession),  is  essentially  neither  more 
nor  less  than  a  series  of  proofs  that  magic  alone  is 
capable  of  winning  over  the  demons  of  the  other 
world,  and  making  them  defenders  of  the  dead,  or 
at  least  submissive  spirits.  Nothing  shows  the 
persistence  of  these  conceptions  so  well  as  certain 
passages,  preserved  down  to  the  historic  period,  in 
which,  e.g.,  the  demon,  'the  serpent  who  devours 
souls,'  is  considered  dangerous  to  the  sun  itself, 
which  has  to  take  great  care  when  passing  over  its 
back  (Tomb  of  Seti  I. ,  third  hour  of  hell ;  theology- 
has  invented  symbolic  explanations,  but  the  primi- 
tive fact  is  clear). 

7.  Final  organization. — The  organization  of  all 
these  incoherent  spirits,  united  by  chance  facts 
(and  by  nothing  but  facts)  around  multiple  gods  of 
early  polytheism,  was  the  result  of  great  labour. 
It  must  have  taken  local  theologians  a  long  tale  of 
centuries ;  nevertheless  it  always  presented  great 
gaps.  It  can  be  partly  reconstructed  by  the  help 
of  the  texts  of  the  Memphite  and  proto-Theban 
coffins.  The  unifying  of  provincial  eschatologies 
under  the  form  of  the  Theban  'Book  of  the  Dead' 
or  of  the  various  'Books  of  the  Under  World' 
('  Hours,'  '  Doors,'  etc.,  of  the  royal  hypogees,  etc.) 
has  been  one  of  the  greatest  aids  to  this  work  of 
harmonization,  which  adjusted  the  demons  more 
or  less  successfully  to  the  gradual  conception  of 
the  Kbafios. 

This  formation  of  armies  of  good  and  evil,  being  the  final 
characteristic  of  unified  Egyptian  religion,  is  too  important  to 
be  studied  in  connexion  with  demons  alone.  It  will  be  treated 
in  the  art.  Dualism  (Egyp.).  For  the  understanding  of  the 
present  article  we  may  note  here  only  the  following  facts :  the 
grouping  around  the  sun  and  his  companions  of  former  adjutant 
demons  of  the  Stars,  or  vassals  of  Thoth,  Horus,  Hathor,  etc. ; 
the  inverse  grouping,  around  the  Great  Serpent  Apopi  and  his 
officers,  of  the  chief  demons  opposed  to  the  sun.  Finally,  a 
god  of  order  and  light,  Osiris-Ra,  is  opposed,  with  all  hie 
allies,  to  a  Sit-Apopi,  the  prince  of  evil  and  darkness,  and  the 
enemy  of  order.  The  struggle  continues  without  truce  and 
with  its  fixed  dates  (see  Calendar  [Egyp.]),  until,  in  the  last 
period,  Sit-Apopi  becomes  confused  in  Coptic  religion  with 
Satan.  This  dualism,  already  developed  in  the  Theban  era, 
throws  light  upon  the  representations  of  the  under  world  of 
this  period,  in  which  armies  of  demons,  under  command  of  Ra, 
tear,  stab,  decapitate,  slaughter,  and  burn  legions  of  the 
damned. 

The  damned  are  not  sinners  in  the  moral  sense, 
but  adversaries  of  Ra,  conquered  enemies.  This 
task  was  reserved  for  the  last  centuries — to  trans- 
form hostility  to  the  sun,  Ra,  into  hostility  to  the 
moral  law  of  Ra-Osiris ;  but  the  task  was  accom- 
plished (see  Dualism  [Egyp.]).  Even  the  forty- 
two  judges  of  the  Negative  Confession  are  only 
silent  demons  with  no  moral  rfile,  and  quite 
artificial ;  and  Shait,  the  demon  who  devours  the 
souls  rejected  by  Osiris,  is  only  an  entity  with  no 
moral  character. 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Egyptian) 


689 


The  absence  of  a  part  in  the  good  or  evil  of  the 
moral  world  appears  still  more  clearly  in  the  con- 
ception of  the  r61e  of  demons  in  connexion  with 
the  living.  There  is  no  single  Egyptian  text  in 
which  they  have  any  part  in  the  sins  of  men,  or  in 
suggesting  evil  thoughts,  or  even,  as  in  Assyria, 
in  sowing  seeds  of  envy,  misunderstanding,  and 
family  quarrels.  They  are  restricted  exclusively 
to  physiological  evil. 

Petrie's  remarkable  book,  Personal  Religion  in  Egypt  before 
Christianity  (London,  1910),  shows,  however,  a  class  of  demons 
in  the  hermetic  literature  who  play  a  perverse  part  (see  pp.  42, 
49,  54,  S6,  115,  160).  But,  in  spite  of  the  author's  efforts  to 
assign  the  first  compositions  to  a  very  ancient  period,  the 
earliest  date  he  can  reach  (5th  cent.ji  merely  succeeds  in 
showing  the  coincidence  of  these  new  ideas  with  the  Persian 
dominion  ;  this  emphasizes  the  resemblance  between  these  non- 
Egyptian  characters  and  the  teaching  of  the  Persian  religion. 
We  may  add  that  at  no  time  in  Egyptian  religion  is  the  army  of 
demons  ever  seen  increasing  its  ranks  by  the  soul  of  a  single 
sinner. 

8.  Popular  demonography. — The  phase  of  demons 
which  has  attracted  the  keenest  attention  of 
Egyptologists  is  their  r61e  in  popular  life  and 
literature  and  in  current  magic.  The  causes  of 
this  are  the  abundance  of  information  furnished 
by  papjrology,  the  picturesqueness  and  precision 
which  such  documents  give  to  the  knowledge  of 
Egyptian  life,  and  the  data  they  supply  for  the 
study  of  magic.  From  a  comparative  point  of 
view,  however,  such  a  study  does  not  exhibit 
many  of  the  characteristic  traits.  An  account — 
even  highly  condensed — of  the  activity  of  demons 
in  Egyptian  life  or  superstition  would  require 
considerable  space  (see  Charms  and  Amulets 
[Egyp.],  MAGIC  [Egyp.]).  As  everywhere,  here 
the  demons  are  at  the  command  of  the  magician, 
to  bring  about  dreams  and  illnesses,  human  or 
animal ;  or  else  they  themselves  cause  these  pheno- 
mena, just  as  they  cause  madness  and  epilepsy 
(see  Disease  and  Medicine  [Egyp.]). 

The  horoscopic  or  simply  superstitious  influence 
of  days,  the  force  of  the  voice,  the  sensitiveness  of 
demons  to  song,  to  the  carmen,  the  chant,  are  facts 
that  apply  to  all  popular  religions.  The  purely 
Egyptian  traits  are  not  many :  the  demons  have 
sex  (see  Hierarchic  Papyrus) ;  there  are  none  of 
the  sexless  demons  of  Assyria.  The  popular 
literature  (see  the  Story  of  Satni-Khamois)  seems 
to  indicate  the  possibility  of  belief  in  incubi  or 
succubcs,  but  the  passages,  which  are  very  numerous, 
require  to  be  discussed  carefully.  The  threatening 
aspect  of  demons  in  connexion  with  infants  (see 
Children  [Egyp.];  also  Berlin  Papyrus,  3027)  is 
also  the  same  as  appears  elsewhere.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  must  remember  the  restrictions  made 
above — the  abundance  of  demons  in  the  magic  and 
literary  papyri  is  not  to  be  taken  as  a  faithful 
picture  of  the  actual  life  of  the  Egyptians.  It 
will  be  noticed,  further,  that  the  Egyptians  never 
mention  demons  who  are  wantonly  cruel,  or  thirst- 
ing for  blood,  death,  and  carnage,  as  in  Chalda;o- 
Assyria,  or  demons  who  dare  to  attack  the  gods 
(the  combats  between  Ra  and  the  demons  of  Apopi 
are  antagonism,  which  is  a  different  thing).  The 
purely  animistic  character  of  these  demons,  strug- 
gling to  live  on  their  own  account,  but  never  doing 
evil  for  evil's  sake,  is  worth  noting.  Finally,  the 
sum  of  all  the  innumerable  details  supplied  from 
Egyptian  evidences  shows  us  a  state  of  affairs  (1) 
differing  only  by  attenuation  from  that  of  the 
ancient  civilizations  of  the  classic  East  or  the 
societies  of  the  savages  of  modern  Africa,  and  (2) 
somewhat  similar  to  the  classical  Mediterranean 
civilizations  of  the  Europe  of  the  Middle  Ages  or 
of  the  Renaissance. 

As  in  all  religions  during  decline,  we  observe  at 
later  epochs  the  growth  of  demoniacal  beliefs  in 
connexion  with  black  magic,  and  in  opposition  to 
the  official  cults.     The  combination  gf  Egyptian 


with  other  Asiatic  or  Mediterranean  demonologies 
shows  itself  in  the  demotic  papyri,  and  particularly 
in  the  tabellae  devotionis  (see  Magic  [Egyp.]  and, 
provisionally,  Budge,  Egyptian  Magic,  or  Erman, 
Die  agypt.  Mel.,  ch.  vii.). 

9.  Ghosts. — The  complexity  of  the  Egyptian 
notion  of  personality  is  an  initial  difficulty  in  the 
way  of  classifying  the  phenomena  relating  to 
ghosts.  The  eight  or  nine  elements  which,  in  the 
historic  period,  constitute  a  person  (see  Body 
[Egyp.])  have  each  their  fate,  form,  and  habitation 
in  the  second  existence.  The  only  one  of  these 
that  concerns  our  present  purpose  is  the  khu. 

The  etymology  of  the  word  khu  is  still  very  doubtful,  and  we 
cannot  deduce  any  indication  whatever  of  the  primitive  rflle 
from  the  radical  meaning  of  the  word.  The  sense  of  '  luminous,' 
'brilliant,'  has  suggested  to  several  authorities  the  explanation 
based  on  the  phosphorescence  of  putrefying  flesh,  or  on  the 
will-o'-the-wisps  playing  in  certain  parts  of  Egypt  on  the  skirts 
of  the  desert,  supposed  to  be  the  favourite  haunts  of  ghosts.  A 
loftier  interpretation  has  been  proposed,  taking  the  word  khu 
as  a  brilliant  spark,  a  part  of  the  solar  substance.  But  this 
seems  to  involve  the  theological  speculations  which  played 
upon  the  amphibological  meaning  of  the  word  when  solar 
theories  held  the  first  rank  in  eschatological  doctrine.  The 
signification  'honoris  or  timoris  causa,'  which  would  attach  a 
complimentary  meaning  of  '  resplendent '  or  '  glorious  '  to  the 
epithet  khu  given  to  the  ghosts  of  the  dead,  seems  more  pro- 
bable, but  has  never  yet  been  definitely  proposed  by  the 
Egyptological  School.  The  present  writer  would  suggest, 
finally,  a  connexion  between  this  name  of  'luminous,'  which 
is  the  intrinsic  meaning  of  khu,  and  the  special  soul  '  which 
shines  in  the  eyes,'  and  to  which  a  great  many  peoples  accord 
a  particular  personality.  The  observation  of  the  difference 
between  the  lustre  of  the  living  eye  and  the  dullness  of  the 
dead  eye  suggested,  in  Eg}-pt  as  among  those  peoples,  the  idea 
of  a  special  '  soul-force '  having  magic  virtues  of  its  own  (which 
would  justify,  besides,  all  the  magic  relating  to  the  power  of 
the  look),  and  continuing  to  live  after  death  with  the  various 
attributes  which  we  accord  to  ghosts.  There  is,  however,  no 
formal  proof  by  texts  of  this  explanation. 

The  khu  is  generally  a  wretched  being.  It  has 
never  been  credited  with  a  lofty  role.  It  is  a 
priori  a  wandering,  unhappy,  hungry  being,  a  sort 
of  outcast  from  the  great  crowd  of  the  dead  and 
other  'spirits' — such  as  a  dead  man,  e.g.,  whose 
grave  has  been  destroyed,  and  whose  soul,  double, 
etc.,  have  perished  by  privation  or  by  the  attacks 
of  monsters.  Accordingly,  we  never  find  the  khu 
of  a  king  or  a  nobleman  appearing  in  the  texts  in 
the  r61e  of  '  ghost,'  as  this  r61e  is  always  a  humble 
and  maleficent  one.  The  attributes  of  the  Egyptian 
ghost,  then,  reduce  themselves  finally  to  those  of 
harmful  demons,  and  agree  very  largely  with  what 
is  believed  on  the  subject  in  all  religions.  Ghosts 
afflict  people  with  '  demonic  possession '  in  all  its 
varieties;  they  torment  in  dreams  (q.v.);  they  find 
their  way  into  the  interior  of  the  body  of  living 
people,  and  cause  innumerable  ills  (see  Disease 
and  Medicine  [Egyp.]) ;  they  appear  suddenly  to 
terrify  the  living,  especially  at  certain  hours  of 
the  night,  and  preferably  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
cemeteries,  or  in  places  reputed  to  be  their  favourite 
haunts  (cf.  Maspero,  Contes  populaires,  passim) ; 
they  attempt  to  violate  any  woman  they  can  take 
by  surprise  in  a  lonely  place  {e.g.  one  of  the  chapters 
of  the  Book  of  the  Two  Ways,  in  which  a  magic- 
power  is  accorded  the  khu  '  of  taking  by  force  any 
woman  he  wants ') ;  or,  in  order  to  devour  living 
substance,  they  throw  themselves  into  the  body  of 
beasts,  excite  them  to  frenzy,  and  cause  them  to 
die ;  the  khuu  of  women  dying  in  child-birth  aim 
especially  at  causing  infants  to  die  (cf.  the  curious 
formulae  of  the  papyrus  Zauberspriiche  fur  Mutter 
und  Kind,  published  by  Erman,  1901  ;  see  also 
Erman,  Religion,  p.  158,  etc.,  for  other  good 
examples  of  the  part  played  by  ghosts  ;  this  belief 
is  analogous  to  numerous  beliefs  throughout  all 
Africa).  The  khuu  of  suicides,  executed  criminals, 
unburied  dead,  and  shipwrecked  sailors  are  partic- 
ularly tormented  and  miserable.  It  was  to  them 
that  the  magician  of  the  later  centuries  applied  by 
preference — conjuring,  invoking,  and  putting  them 
at  his  service  for  his  thousand  and  one  evil  purposes  : 


590 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Greek) 


tormenting  in  sleep,  causing  death  by  enchantment 
or  by  fever,  assisting  lovers  to  exact  vengeance,  or 
helping  those  who  wished  to  attract  or  recall  an 
unfaithful  mistress  (cf.  the  series  of  tabellae  de- 
votionis,  the  dominating  Egyptian  element  in  which 
is  nevertheless  tinged  with  magic  of  Asiatic  or 
North  African  origin).  The  baleful  activity  of  all 
these  ghosts  is  naturally  specially  excited  at  certain 
unfavourable  times  in  the  calendar  (see  Calendar 
[Egyp.]),  and  they  come  in  their  hordes  at  these 
times  to  join  the  troops  of  evil  'spirits'  struggling 
against  order  (see  Dualism  [Egyp.]),  just  like  a 
band  of  plunderers  accompanying  the  real  com- 
batants. Very  seldom  do  we  find  mention  of  a 
khu  playing  the  simple  inoffensive  part  of  a  ghost 
(Budge  cites  one  example,  in  Egyp.  Magic,  Lond. 
1899,  p.  219,  of  a  khu  which  points  out  to  a  mortal 
a  suitable  place  for  building  a  tomb),  this  form  of 
activity  being  reserved  especially  for  the  '  doubles ' 
and  the  ' souls '  (see  State  of  the  Dead  [Egyp.]). 
io.  Conclusions. — The  original  complete  con- 
fusion of  troops  of  demons  (or  spirits)  with  the 
earliest  gods  has  been  affirmed  repeatedly  in  this 
article.  On  the  other  hand,  it  has  been  said  that 
the  spirits  of  the  dead  were  confused  with  the 
demons  as  to  habitat,  needs,  functions,  character, 
and  powers.  This  double  assertion  would  require 
a  more  detailed  demonstration  than  is  here  possible. 
Presented  thus  in  a  condensed  form,  it  seems  to 
lead,  by  syllogism,  to  an  equating  of  the  spirits  of 
the  dead  with  the  first  gods,  in  whole  or  in  part. 
But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  no  theory  of  Egyptian 
religion  could  be  more  contrary  to  truth  or  more 
capable  of  vitiating  all  knowledge  of  that  religion. 
Never  at  any  time  or  under  any  form  did  the 
Egyptian  dead  become  gods.  The  case  of  the  sons 
or  heirs  of  gods  (chiefs  and  kings)  belongs  to  an 
entirely  different  category,  and  the  confusion  of 
the  dead  with  Osiris,  or  some  other  of  the  gods  of 
the  dead,  by  magic  or  by  religious  process  is  either 
an  euonymous  assimilation  or  an  absorption  of  the 
dead  man's  personality  by  an  already  existing  god. 
It  is,  therefore,  absolutely  necessary  to  insist  on 
the  fact  that  the  demons  and  spirits,  the  original 
forms  of  the  Egyptian  gods,  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  spirits  of  the  dead  in  their  essential 
nature,  but  merely  resemble  them  in  the  aspects 
of  their  activity  (see  State  of  the  Dead  [Egyp.]). 
Between  the  nature  of  '  spirits '  and  '  demons  — all 
those  myriads  of  beings,  this  '  dust  of  gods '  from 
which  the  gods  sprang — and  the  nature  of  the 
spirits  of  the  dead  there  is  an  impassable  limit  set 
which  Lang  has  called  'the  abyss  of  death.'  The 
spirits,  or  khuu,  of  the  Egyptian  dead  come  from 
beings  who  did  not  exist  before  their  birth  on 
earth,  who  have  known  physical  death,  and  are 
liable  to  sutler  the  '  second  death, '  or  final  de- 
struction. None  of  these  three  characteristics  can 
be  applied  to  the  demons  or  genii  any  more  than 
to  the  first  of  the  actual  gods,  who  became  de- 
tached from  their  various  innumerable  troops  of 
spirits.  Later  theologies  credited  the  gods  of  the 
historic  period  with  having  been  born,  and  even 
attributed  to  Osiris  or  his  mythological  '  doublets ' 
a  physical  death.  They  never  touched  on  the 
third  characteristic.  And,  on  the  other  hand, 
Egypt  never  knew  of  an  ordinary  mortal  who 
became  a  god,  or  for  whom  there  was  such  a  possi- 
bility even  under  the  humble  form  of  a  demon. 

Literature. — The  provisional  state  of  the  source3  and 
evidence  regarding  demonology  has  been  noted  in  the  course 
of  the  article.  The  whole  theory  of  spirits  has  never  been 
gathered  together  in  one  work ;  views  on  the  spirits,  however, 
are  scattered  through  all  the  works  that  discuss  Egyptian 
religion.  We  may  only  mention,  among  those  in  which  the 
information  is  more  specially  grouped,  the  following :  E. 
AmeMineau,  Prolegornenes,  Paris,  1908  (where  an  exactly  op- 
posite  euhemeristic  theory  is  supported  at  length) ;  E.  A.  W. 
Budge,  Egyptian  Magic,  London,  1901,  Gods  of  the  Egyptians, 
do.  1904,  Liturgy  of  Funerary  Offerings,  do.  i909,  Opening  of 


the  Mouth,  do.  1909,  and  Book  of  the  Bead,  do.  1909;  A. 
Erman,  Die  dgypt.  Relig.,  Berlin,  1905  ;  G.  Maspero,  Etudei 
de  mythol.  et  d'archiol,  vol.  ii.,  Paris,  1893,  and  Contes  popu- 
lates4, do.  1908 ;  W.  M.  F.  Petrie,  Religion  and  Conscience 
in  Ancient  Egypt,  London,  1898.  A  certain  number  of  details 
are  given  in  the  manuals  of  Egyp.  religion  of  Ermoni  (Paris, 
1910),  Petrie  (London,  1906),  Virey  (Paris,  1910),  and  A. 
Wiedemann  (Miinster,  1890).  The  documentation  proper 
naturally  fills  the  whole  series  of  Egyptological  monumental 
bibliography.  See  especially,  besides  the  works  already  men- 
tioned, E.  Lefebure,  Hypoge'es  royaux  de  Thebes,  Paris,  1883; 
and  P.  Lacau,  Sarcophages  antCrieurs  au  Nouvel  Empire, 
Indexes,  Cairo,  1903-1906.  GEORGE  FOUCART. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Greek).— Students 
of  Greek  literature  cannot  fail  to  be  impressed  by 
the  complex  system  of  the  Olympian  theocracy, 
and  by  the  richness  of  legendary  fable  which  en- 
velops it.  In  variety  of  detail  and  precision  of 
outline  it  seems  to  be  separated  by  long  periods  of 
development  from  the  vague  beliefs  and  rude  cere- 
monies which  characterize  the  religions  of  primi- 
tive man.  But,  while  it  is  certain  that  the  Greek 
gods,  as  they  appear  in  literature,  are  the  product 
of  a  long  course  of  evolution,  beliefs  in  the  exist- 
ence of  various  supernatural  beings,  which  belong 
to  an  earlier  stratum  of  religious  thought,  and  can 
be  paralleled  from  the  records  now  available  of 
savage  superstitions,  continued  to  maintain  them- 
selves during  historical  times.  Of  these  inter- 
mediate beings  the  most  important  are  those 
known  as  demons. 

I.  In  early  times. — In  early  religion  the  most 
powerful  forces  are  those  which  are  comprehen- 
sively attributed  to  Animism.  To  these  belong 
the  notions  that  all  natural  objects  are  informed 
with  a  living  principle  akin  to  the  human  soul, 
and  that  the  souls  of  the  dead  continue  .to  visit 
the  haunts  with  which  they  were  familiar  in  life. 
To  the  operation  of  these  spiritual  powers  are 
ascribed  such  of  the  vicissitudes  of  life  as  cannot 
be  explained  by  visible  agencies.  Similarly,  it  is 
inferred  that  the  soul  of  a  living  man  maj'  be  tem- 
porarily detached  from  its  normal  habitation  in 
the  body,  as  in  sleep  or  trance ;  and  that  the 
bodies  of  the  living  may  be  possessed  by  alien 
spirits,  as  in  epilepsy,  lunacy,  or  hysteria.  There 
is  plenty  of  evidence  that  beliefs  of  this  kind 
flourished  in  ancient  Greece  as  vigorously  as  they 
have  survived  in  mediaeval  and  modern  times  ;  and 
the  general  name  of  '  demons,'  which  the  Greeks 
gave  to  certain  of  these  invisible  but  potent  spirits, 
has  been  adopted  by  modern  writers,  who  employ 
the  term  '  demonology '  to  describe  the  science 
relating  to  supernatural  beings  with  a  nature 
intermediate  between  that  of  gods  and  men. 

But,  in  the  exposition  of  these  beliefs,  we  are 
met  with  difficulties  arising  from  the  nature  of  the 
evidence.  We  cannot  reach  the  crude  fancies  of 
the  vulgar  in  their  original  form,  but  are  obliged 
to  view  them  through  the  transfiguring  medium  of 
literature.  The  rationalizing  genius  of  the  race 
stands  in  our  way.  The  notices  relating  to  demons 
are  drawn,  for  the  most  part,  either  from  the  writ- 
ings of  philosophers,  who  endeavoured  to  harmonize 
current  superstitions  with  their  own  interpretation 
of  the  universe  ;  or  from  poetry,  where  the  creative 
imagination  insensibly  tones  the  simple  outlines  of 
the  popular  conception. 

The  earliest  text  requiring  notice  is  the  passage 
of  Hesiod  (Op.  122 fl'.,  251  ff.)  in  which  he  identifies 
the  demons  with  the  souls  of  those  who  lived  in  the 
Golden  Age.  They  are  described  as  continuing 
in  the  upper  world,  kindly  guardians  of  men,  dis- 
tributors of  prosperity  and  wealth,  but  wrapped 
in  darkness  so  as  to  be  invisible  while  they  wander 
over  every  region  of  the  earth.  Here  we  meet  the 
statement  that  the  demons  are  the  souls  of  the 
dead,  overlaid  with  the  legend  of  the  Four  Ages 
and  the  deterioration  of  mankind.  For  the  popular 
belief  on  which  it  rests  we  must  refer  to  passages 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Greek) 


591 


where  the  Greek  dal/ioves  is  employed,  like  the 
Latin  manes,  to  denote  the  spirits  of  the  departed 
(Lucian,  de  Luctu,  24  ;  for  the  evidence  of  inscrip- 
tions, where  foots  Salp.oa-u'  =  dis  manibus,  see  Koscher, 
i.  929  ;  Frazer,  Pausan.,  1900,  iv.  24).  The  literary 
evidence  is  hardly  less  conclusive,  when  we  find 
Darius  and  Alcestis  described  as  demons  in  refer- 
ence to  their  condition  after  death  (./Esch.  Pers. 
623 ;  Eur.  Ale.  1003),  and  when  the  Muse  prophe- 
sies that  Rhesus,  though  dead,  shall  rest  hidden  in 
a  Thracian  cave  as  a  man-demon  (avBpuiroSalpwv, 
Eur.  Bhes.  971).  See,  further,  Usener,  Gotter- 
namen,  p.  248  ff.  ;  a  somewhat  different  view  is 
taken  by  Rohde,  Psyche*,  i.  95,  153.  As  the 
shades  of  ancestors,  so  long  as  they  are  treated 
with  due  respect,  are  expected  to  show  favour,  a 
reference  to  the  '  good  demon '  sometimes  implies 
nothing  more  than  this  (Waser,  in  Pauly-Wissowa, 
iv.  2012).  But  the  good  demon  also  appears  in 
circumstances  which  cannot  be  associated  with 
ancestor-worship.  In  Bceotia  a  sacrifice  to  the 
good  demon  was  made  the  occasion  for  first  tasting 
the  new  must  (Plut.  Qu.  Conv.  Hi.  7.  1,  p.  655  E) ; 
and  at  Athens  it  was  the  custom  after  dinner  to 
pour  out  a  small  libation  of  unmixed  wine  in  his 
honour  (Aristoph.  Eg.  85,  etc.).  At  other  times 
he  is  the  personification  of  good  fortune,  as  the 
protecting  spirit  of  a  community,  a  family,  or  an 
individual ;  in  this  sense,  Nero  arrogated  to  him- 
self the  title  of  'good  demon  of  the  world'  (CIG 
iii.  4699).     See  Rohde,  i.  254  f. 

With  the  various  manifestations  of  the  good 
demon  we  may  contrast  cases  where  the  influence 
of  the  spirit  was  pernicious.  An  evil  spirit  was 
often  conceived  as  a  ghost. 

A  good  illustration  i9  afforded  by  the  story  of  Euthymus  the 
boxer,  who  fought  with  a  '  hero '  enshrined  at  Temesa  in  S.  Italy. 
This  was  the  ghost  of  one  of  Odysseus'  crew,  Polites  or  Alybas, 
who  had  been  stoned  to  death  by  the  people  of  Temesa  for 
ravishing  a  girl.  Every  year  the  ghost  required  the  dedication 
to  him  of  the  fairest  maiden  in  Temesa  as  his  wife,  which  was 
yielded  by  the  townsfolk  in  order  to  save  themselves  from  his 
wrath.  The  practice  was  of  immemorial  antiquity  at  the  time 
when  Euthymus  chanced  to  come  to  Temesa,  and,  having 
entered  the  temple,  saw  the  maiden,  and  fell  in  love  with  her. 
So  Euthymus  put  on  his  armour,  and,  when  the  ghost  appeared, 
withstood  his  assault  and  vanquished  him  ;  and  the  hero,  driven 
from  the  land,  plunged  into  the  sea,  and  was  never  seen  again. 
Pausanias,  who  tells  the  story  (vi.  6.  7-11),  as  well  as  other 
authorities  (Strabo,  p.  255  ;  Suid.  8. v.  Ev#u/*os),  had  seen  a  picture 
illustrating  the  event  which  he  records,  and,  in  the  course  of 
describing  it,  he  quaintly  remarks  :  '  The  ghost  was  of  a  horrid 
black  colour,  and  his  whole  appearance  was  most  dreadful,  and 
he  wore  a  wolfskin.'  The  ghost-idea  is  less  prominent  in  the 
story  of  the  demon  of  Anagyrus,  one  of  the  Athenian  demes, 
who  destroyed  the  family  of  a  neighbouring  peasant  for  a 
trespass  committed  on  his  sanctuary  (Suid.  8.V.  'Ar'ayupao-to? 
SaCuuv). 

Hesiod  (Op.  159,  172)  distinguished  between 
'  heroes '  and  '  demons,'  and  later  philosophical 
speculation  treated  demons  as  belonging  to  a 
higher  grade  of  dignity  (Plut.  de  Def.  Or.  10,  p. 
415  B).  But  in  stories  like  the  above  the  two 
terms  are  used  without  distinction ;  and  heroes 
as  ghostly  beings  were  considered  so  dangerous 
that  persons  passing  by  their  shrines  were  warned 
to  keep  silence,  lest  they  should  sutler  injury 
(Hesych.  s.v.  Kpelrrovas).  The  belief  that  a  hero 
is  incapable  of  conferring  blessings,  and  is  only 
powerful  to  work  ill,  is  enforced  by  Babrius, 
Fab.  63. 

Other  evil  demons  are  represented  as  specially 
attached  to  an  individual.  Thus,  the  dread  and 
strange  vision  of  monstrous  and  fearful  shape 
which  appeared  to  M.  Brutus  in  his  last  campaign 
announced  itself  to  him  as  his  evil  demon  (Plut. 
Brut.  36).  Or  an  avenging  demon  may  be  the 
instrument  appointed  to  punish  the  crimes  of  a 
particular  family,  as  when,  in  the  Agamemnon  of 
jfischylus  (1477),  after  the  murder  of  her  husband, 
Clytemnestra  boasts  that  she  herself  is  the  incar- 
nate demon  of  the  Pelopids,  '  so  gross  with  o'er- 
grown  flesh.'     In  such  capacity  the  evil   demon 


often  bore  the  special  title  of  'Alastor';  and  in 
the  Persm  (357)  the  slave  Sicinnus,  who  entrapped 
Xerxes  into  a  fatal  manoeuvre,  so  that  he  lost  the 
battle  of  Salamis,  is  described  by  the  Persian  mes- 
senger to  Atossa  as  having  been  inspired  by  an 
alastor.  Sophocles,  in  referring  to  an  action  im- 
possible for  any  one  but  a  madman,  does  not 
hesitate  to  say :  '  Who  would  choose  this,  unless 
maddened  by  avenging  fiendsl'  (S<ms  p.ij  '£  'd\a<r- 
rbpwv  voo-oi  [Track.  1235]).  It  would  be  easy  to 
multiply  instances  where  demonic  agencies  are 
made  responsible  for  good  or  evil  fortune ;  and 
it  is  not  surprising  that  the  prevalence  of  such 
opinions  opened  the  door  to  chicanery  and  im- 
posture. Among  the  crowds  of  oracle-mongers, 
diviners,  and  interpreters  of  dreams,  who  swarmed 
at  Athens  during  the  latter  part  of  the  5th  cent. 
B.C.,  were  some  who  professed  to  foretell  the  future 
by  the  agency  of  familiar  spirits  obedient  to  their 
summons.  A  notorious  instance  was  Eurycles  the 
ventriloquist  (iyyaarplpvdos,  crTepv6p.avTis),  who,  by 
giving  utterance  to  his  oracles  in  a  feigned  voice, 
persuaded  his  hearers  that  they  were  the  pro- 
nouncements of  a  demon  lodged  within  his  own 
breast  (Aristoph.  Vesp.  1019 ;  Plat.  Soph.  252  C 
and  the  scholl.).  This  proceeding  corresponds 
exactly  with  the  methods  of  savage  magicians,  as 
reported  by  E.  B.  Tylor  in  his  article  on  '  Demon- 
ology'  (EBr»  vii.  63). 

The  notion  of  a  guardian  spirit,  which  watches 
over  a  man  from  his  birth,  directs  his  actions,  and 
may  be  either  friendly  or  hostile,  was  widely  enter- 
tained among  the  Greeks.  It  is  best  expressed  in 
the  famous  fragment  of  Menander  (550  K.) :  'By 
every  man  at  birth  a  good  demon  takes  his  stand, 
to  initiate  him  in  the  mysteries  of  life.'  This  is 
not  a  literary  fancy,  but  a  popular  opinion :  '  There 
are  many  who  have  a  craven  soul,  but  a  good 
demon,'  says  Theognis  (161).  Or  v/e  may  appeal 
to  Pindar,  a  witness  of  a  very  different  type  (Pyth. 
v.  122) :  '  The  mighty  purpose  of  Zeus  directs  the 
demon  of  those  whom  he  loves'  (see  W.  Headlam, 
in  JPh  xxx.  [1906]  304 ;  Rohde,  ii.  316  ;  Usener, 
296).  But,  in  regard  to  the  force  of  particular 
passages,  there  is  room  for  disagreement.  The 
word  8o.Lp.wv  is  used  in  such  a  way  that  it  is  often 
difficult  to  seize  its  exact  significance  in  a  parti- 
cular context.  Thus,  besides  bearing  the  special 
meaning  with  which  we  are  now  concerned,  it  may 
be  employed  either  (1)  as  a  synonym  of  debs,  dis- 
tinguishable, if  at  all,  as  expressing  the  Divine 
power  manifested  in  action  rather  than  the  Divine 
personality  as  an  object  of  worship ;  or  (2)  in  the 
abstract  sense  of  destiny.  Yet,  although  we  may 
sometimes  hesitate  (as,  e.g.,  in  Eur.  Ion,  1374, 
Supp.  592)  between  the  abstract  and  the  concrete 
meaning,  with  a  view  to  the  selection  of  an  English 
equivalent,  it  is  unlikely  that  to  a  Greek  the  word 
ever  became  so  colourless  as  the  tr.  '  fate '  or  '  des- 
tiny '  suggests.  That  this  was  the  original  sense, 
as  has  been  suggested  in  recent  times  (Gruppe,  Gr. 
Mythol.  991,  n.  4 ;  see,  however,  Usener,  292),  is 
hardly  credible. 

We  have  seen  that  the  belief  in  the  separate 
existence  of  the  soul  after  death  leads  to  the 
assumptions  that  the  souls  of  the  dead  are  power- 
ful over  the  living,  and  that  other  potencies  of  a 
similar  character,  spirit-like  but  not  souls,  exist 
independently  and  visit  the  earth.  A  further  step 
is  taken  when  these  demons  are  regarded  as  capable 
of  entering  into  and  possessing  human  bodies  (Gom- 
perz,  Greek  Thinkers  [Eng.  tr.  1901],  ch.  i.  §§  5,  6). 
This  may  be  illustrated  by  the  various  instances  in 
which  the  human  representative  is  permanently  or 
temporarily  identified  with  the  Divine  being  whose 
power  he  assumes.  Hermes  became  incarnate  in  the 
ministrants  at  the  oracle  of  Trophonius  at  Lebadea 
(Pausan.  ix.  39.  7),  Bacchus  in  the  inystce  (schol. 


692 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Greek) 


on  Aristoph.  Eo.  408).  Similar  is  the  inspiration 
drawn  from  the  chewing  or  eating  of  magic  sub- 
stances, such  as  the  laurel  leaves  sacred  to  Apollo 
(Soph.  frag.  811,  etc.),  or  the  honey  which  inspired 
the  Thi-ite  on  Parnassus  (Horn.  h.  Her?n.  560). 
These  are  special  applications  of  the  general  belief 
in  demonic  possession,  which  is  implicit  in  the  use 
of  the  adjectives  ev5a.lfj.uv,  KaKoSalfitov,  etc.,  and  is 
expressed  by  that  of  the  verbs  KaKodai/iovS.i',  Bai/iovL- 
feadai  (Soph.  frag.  173),  and  dcu/j.ova.v  (Eur.  Phoen. 
888,  with  the  present  writer's  note).  The  demon 
which  took  possession  of  a  man's  body  was  some- 
times conceived  as  a  fiery  spirit,  which  raised  the 
blood  to  a  condition  of  fever.  Hence  the  fiery 
emblems  of  love  (Gruppe,  849,  n.  7),  which  per- 
meates the  frames  of  its  victims  with  a  feverish 
ecstasy.  Hippocrates  found  it  necessary  to  combat 
the  superstition  that  epilepsy  is  due  to  some  god — 
Poseidon,  Apollo,  Ares,  or  Hecate — having  taken 
possession  of  the  sick  man  (Morb.  sacr.  592  K). 
Phaedra's  wasting  sickness  is  attributed  by  the 
chorus  in  the  Hippolytus  of  Euripides  to  posses- 
sion by  Pan,  Hecate,  the  Corybantes,  Cybele,  or 
Dictynna  (141-147);  and  the  sudden  illness  of 
Glauce,  described  in  the  Medea,  was  thought  by 
those  present  to  have  been  caused  by  the  anger  of 
Pan  (1172).     See  also  Usener,  294. 

2.  In  the  classical  age. — The  Olympian  religion, 
if  we  may  call  by  this  name  the  impression  which 
we  receive  from  Greek  literature  about  the  ordi- 
nary beliefs  of  the  classical  age,  is  a  composite 
structure,  largely  built  up  by  the  transference 
from  past  generations  of  elements  on  which  time 
has  worked  an  essential  change.  The  demons 
passed  into  gods ;  the  shadowy  gods  became  defi- 
nitely conceived  personalities.  A  good  illustration 
of  this  process  may  be  taken  from  the  development 
which  can  be  traced  in  the  notions  entertained  of 
the  Nymphs  (Gomperz,  i.  26).  The  Oreads,  Dryads, 
and  Naiads  owe  their  origin  to  the  fetishism  which 
believes  that  every  natural  object  is  endowed  with 
a  living  spirit.  In  course  of  time  the  spirit  is 
separated  from  its  environment :  the  Dryad,  for 
example,  inhabits  the  oak,  but  the  oak  itself  is 
no  longer  animate.  But  the  indwelling  spirit  has 
not  yet  become  immortal ;  the  Dryad  cannot  out- 
live the  oak  (Horn.  h.  Aphrod.  257 ;  Apoll.  Rhod. 
ii.  481).  A  later  stage  has  been  reached  when 
Homer  describes  how  the  Rivers  and  Nymphs  were 
summoned  by  Zeus  to  join  the  conclave  of  the  im- 
mortals (II.  xx.  7  ff.).  We  need  not  pause  to  illus- 
trate the  process  by  which  a  tribal  deity  has  been 
elevated  to  national  dignity,  or  a  god  with  limited 
powers  has  merged  his  identity  in  the  attributes  of 
an  Olympian.  Other  demons  have  taken  subaltern 
rank  in  the  celestial  hierarchy,  as  when  the  Cory- 
bantes are  classed  as  the  attendants  (irpoVoXoi)  of 
Rhea  (Strabo,  472),  and  the  Satyri  attach  them- 
selves to  Dionysus.  Eurynomus,  a  grisly  demon 
who  ate  the  flesh  of  corpses,  was  painted  by  Poly- 
gnotus  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  lower  world  ; 
he  was  blue-black  in  colour  like  a  carrion-fly,  his 
teeth  were  bared,  and  he  was  sitting  on  the  skin 
of  a  vulture  (Pausan.  x.  28.  7).  Dionysus  was 
sometimes  attended  by  Akratos,  the  potent  spirit 
of  the  unmixed  wine  (Pausan.  i.  2.  5) ;  and  Aphro- 
dite by  Tychon,  perhaps  the  spirit  of  good  luck,  not 
unlike  our  Puck  or  Robin  Goodfellow  (Gruppe,  853, 
n.  2).  Even  the  hell-hounds  of  Hecate  are  recog- 
nized as  evil  demons  (Euseb.  Prasp.  Evang.  iv.  23. 
7,8). 

It  has  recently  been  contended  (Farnell,  CGS  v.  [1909]  444) 
tbat  the  personification  of  abstract  ideas  as  Divine  beings  claim- 
ing our  veneration  and  worship  is  to  be  explained  as  due  to  the 
demonic  power  which  was  attributed  by  a  primitive  habit  of 
mind  to  any  outbreak  of  excessive  emotion.  Typical  cases  are 
quoted  from  the  ceremonial  observances  paid  in  various  parts  of 
Greece  to  Shame,  Pity,  Laughter,  Fear  (Pausan.  i.  17.  1 ;  Plut. 
Cleomen.  9).  If  the  suggestion  is  correct,  it  throws  a  remark- 
able light  upon  the  development  of  Greek  psychology.    It  is 


easier  to  recognize  primitive  ideas  in  the  deification  of  Madness 
(Pausan.  viii.  34.  1)  and  Hunger  (Plut.  Qu.  Conv.  vi.  8.  1,  p. 
694  A).  The  ManiBB  are  supposed  by  Pausanias  to  be  the  Erinyes 
under  another  title,  as  producing  frenzy  in  their  victims.  But 
Hunger  is  hardly  to  be  explained  as  the  concrete  embodiment 
given  to  the  sufferings  of  starvation.  Rather  we  should  infer 
that  the  failure  of  the  crops  through  drought,  and  the  wasting 
of  the  flocks  and  herds  through  disease,  were  taken  as  irre- 
fragable testimony  to  the  operation  of  a  malignant  and  super- 
natural pow'er.  In  order  to  avert  such  a  calamity,  an  annual 
expulsion  of  a  disease-laden  scapegoat  in  the  character  of  a 
slave,  who  was  beaten  with  rods  of  willow  to  the  words  of  the 
refrain,  '  Out  of  doors  with  famine,  and  in-doors  with  plenty 
and  health  I '  took  place  at  the  town  of  Chseronea  in  Bceotia. 
Plutarch,  in  the  passage  quoted  above,  tells  us  that  he  had 
himself  performed  the  ceremony  when  holding  the  office  of 
chief  magistrate.  For  its  significance,  see  Frazer,  GB2,  1900, 
iii.  1242. 

Again,  as  the  crude  fancies  of  primitive  super- 
stition ceased  to  correspond  with  advancing  en- 
lightenment, they  tended  to  gather  round  them 
the  details  of  legendary  adventures,  and  to  become 
associated,  in  the  record  of  a  mythical  past,  with 
particular  localities  or  heroic  names.  The  Sphinx, 
a  ravening  monster,  compact  of  indigenous  stories 
of  a  destructive  dragon  fused  with  Oriental  or 
Egyptian  elements,  was  localized  in  Bceotia  and 
connected  with  the  story  of  QSdipus.  The  Harpies 
or  'Snatchers'  (Horn.  Od.  xiv.  371),  another  com- 
posite notion  in  the  evolution  of  which  wind- 
demons  and  death-angels  had  taken  part,  sur- 
vived ultimately  for  their  share  in  the  punishment 
of  Phineus,  which  was  related  as  an  incident  in 
the  voyage  of  the  Argonauts.  They  are  nearly 
related  to  the  Erinyes  and  the  Sirens — both 
chthonic  agencies  ;  but,  whereas  the  belief  in  an 
avenging  spirit  punishing  homicide  survived  longer, 
and  has  preserved  the  Erinyes  in  literature  as  a 
potent  spiritual  force,  the  Sirens  soon  passed  into 
the  region  of  fairy-land,  and  were  remembered 
chiefly  from  Homer's  description  of  them  in  the 
Odyssey.  The  Gorgons — also  under-world  powers 
and  storm-spirits — are  hardly  known  to  tradition 
except  through  the  adventures  of  Perseus. 

Besides  these,  there  was  a  whole  host  of  sprites, 
bogeys,  and  hobgoblins  which  remained  nearer 
to  their  primitive  associations.  Their  names  are 
generic  rather  than  personal,  and  they  were  rarely 
dignified  by  a  connexion  with  some  heroic  tale. 
Such  was  Empusa,  a  demonic  apparition  that  ap- 
peared sometimes  at  mid-day  and  sometimes  by 
night.  She  had  the  power  of  continually  changing 
her  shape,  but  could  be  detected,  it  would  seem, 
by  the  donkey's  leg  which  was  her  constant  attri- 
bute (see  Dem.  xviii.  130  ;  Aristoph.  Ban.  289  ff.). 
Gello — a  name  which  has  been  compared  with  the 
Arabic  ghoul — was  a  spectre  which  kidnapped 
children.  Almost  unknown  to  literature,  the 
name  lasted  through  the  Middle  Ages,  and  sur- 
vives in  some  localities  down  to  the  present  day 
(Maas,  in  Pauly-Wissowa,  vii.  1005).  Somewhat 
more  familiar  to  us  is  Mormo,  a  bogey  of  the  nur- 
sery, invoked  to  frighten  children  (Theocr.  xv. 
40  ;  Xen.  Hell.  iv.  4.  17) — perhaps  a  hypocoristic 
form  of  Mormolyke — a  werwolf  (/iop/j.o\vKeta,  Plat 
Phcedo,  77  E,  etc.).  Another  bogey-name  is  that 
of  Lamia,  who  was  said  to  have  the  remarkable 

Eower  of  taking  out  her  eyes  and  putting  them 
ack  at  pleasure.  She  also  was  a  kidnapper  and 
murderess  of  children,  and  is  sometimes  identified 
with  Mormo  and  Gello,  as  ii  these  were  different 
names  of  the  same  monster.  But  in  Lamia  there 
are  more  traces  of  a  definite  personality  ;  and  she 
has  almost  become  a  mythical  heroine,  as  a  Libyan 
queen  beloved  by  Zeus,  whose  children  were  killed 
by  Hera,  and  who  in  consequence  revenged  herself 
by  killing  other  children  (see  Didymus  ap.  schol. 
Aristoph.  Pax,  758).  To  the  same  class  belonged 
Acco  and  Alphito — words  of  doubtful  meaning 
which  perhaps  signify  '  booby  '  and  '  grey-head  ' 
(Chrysipp.  ap.  Plut.  de  Stoic,  rep.  15,  p.  1040  B). 
Ephialtes  was  the  name  given  to  the  spectre  in- 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Greek) 


593 


vented  by  the  ignorant  to  account  for  the  night- 
mare which  results  from  indigestion  ;  and  he  is 
not  always  distinguished  from  Epialcs,  the  cold 
shivering-fit  which  preceded  an  attack  of  fever 
(Aristoph.  Vesp.  1037).  Ephialtes  was  sometimes 
figured  as  the  long-eared  owl  (Stos).  Owls  (arpLyyes) 
were  regarded  as  birds  of  evil  omen  {Poetat  Lyrici 
Graici*,  ed.  Bergk,  Leipzig,  1878-82,  iii.  664),  and 
as  embodiments  of  the  spirits  of  the  dead  which 
appear  by  night  to  suck  the  blood  of  the  living — a 
superstition  which  survives  in  modern  Greece. 

For  the  conception  denoted  by  Keres,  which  is 
closely  allied  to,  and  largely  co-extensive  with,  the 
present  subject,  see  the  article  under  that  title. 

3.  In  the  hands  of  the  philosophers. — "We  have 
now  to  examine  how  the  popular  belief  in  demons 
was  treated  by  the  philosophical  schools.  Thales 
is  credibly  reported  to  have  said  (Arist.  de  Anima, 
i.  5.  411a  8)  that  all  things  are  full  of  gods,  and 
it  is  hardly  to  be  doubted  that  in  so  maintaining 
he  sought  to  explain  Animistic  beliefs  by  the 
application  of  rational  principles.  By  the  Pytha- 
goreans a  belief  in  demons  was  always  fostered, 
especially  in  their  character  as  representing  the 
souls  of  the  dead.  They  entertained  no  doubt 
that  such  demons  were  visible  as  if  in  actual  bodily 
presence,  and  were  surprised  that  any  one  should 
deny  that  he  had  ever  seen  a  demon  (Arist.  frag. 
193  [Rose]).  All  the  air,  they  said,  is  full  of 
souls,  and  these  are  called  demons  and  heroes. 
It  is  they  who  send  dreams  and  signs  of  disease 
and  good  health  not  only  to  men,  but  also  to 
sheep  and  cattle.  With  them  relations  are  estab- 
lished by  purification  and  expiation,  by  divination 
and  by  omens  (Diog.  Laert.  viii.  22).  Hence 
Aristoxenus  (Stob.  Flor.  79.  45)  is  following 
Pythagoras  when  he  recommends  the  worship  of 
gods  and  demons,  and  the  Golden  Poem  places  the 
heroes  and  subterranean  demons,  i.e.  the  souls  of 
the  dead,  after  the  gods,  but  as  worthy  of  honour 
corresponding  to  their  degree.  Later  doxo- 
graphers  (Aet.  Plac.  i.  8.  2)  join  Pythagoras  with 
Thales,  Plato,  and  the  Stoics  in  holding  that 
demons  and  heroes  are  spiritual  substances,  or 
souls  separated  from  bodies,  and  that  there  are 
good  and  bad  demons  corresponding  to  the  same 
varieties  of  soul.  There  is  also  attributed  to 
Pythagoras  the  fantastic  notion  that  the  sound 
emitted  from  a  brass  gong  when  strtick  is  the 
voice  of  a  demon  shut  up  within  the  metal 
(Porphyr.  Vit.  Pyth.  41).  The  popular  idea  of 
an  indwelling  demon,  by  which  a  man  is  pos- 
sessed or  controlled,  was  refined  and  interpreted 
by  several  philosophers.  To  Heraclitus  (frag. 
119  [Diels])  is  ascribed  the  pregnant  saying  that 
'character  is  each  man's  demon,'  his  inner  self  is 
his  true  divinity,  and  his  fate  is  moulded  by  his 
own  individuality.  The  same  thought  is  expressed 
by  Epicharmus  in  a  simpler  form  :  '  His  disposi- 
tion is  to  each  man  a  good  or  bad  demon '  (frag. 
258  [Kaibel]).  Similar  but  less  striking  is  the 
saying  of  Democritus  that  '  blessedness  dwells  not 
in  herds  or  gold,  but  the  soul  is  the  dwelling- 

S'ace  of  the  blessed  being'  (frag.  171  [Diels]). 
emocritus  (Sext.  adv.  Math.  ix.  19)  explained 
the  belief  in  gods  by  degrading  them  to  the  level 
of  demons,  which  he  held  to  be  material  images  per- 
ceptible to  our  senses,  long-lived  but  not  immortal. 
Empedocles  speaks  of  the  wanderings  of  wicked 
demons,  which  have  been  cast  out  of  the  abodes  of 
the  blest  but  return  there  after  a  banishment  of 
30,000  years,  during  which  they  pass  through  vari- 
ous stages  of  incarnation  (frag.  115,  2).  These 
Satfiovcs,  as  Hippolytus  explains,  are  human  souls ; 
but  they  are  not  necessarily  separable  entities, 
since  the  figurative  language  of  the  poem  requires 
to  be  controlled  by  the  materialism  of  the  philo- 
sophical system  which  it  expounds  (see  Burnet, 
vol.  iv. — 38 


Early  Greek  Philosophy,  1892,  p.  271  ;  Kohde,  ii. 
178  11'.). 

Socrates  was  in  the  habit  of  asserting  that  he 
was  frequently  impeded  by  a  Divine  sign  from 
taking  a  particular  course  of  action.  This  cus- 
tomary sign  was  imparted  through  the  medium  of 
a  warning  voice,  and  was  manifested  on  trifling 
as  well  as  on  important  occasions  (Plat.  Apol. 
31  D,  40  A).  The  deduction  that  Socrates  intended 
to  imply  that  he  was  guided  throughout  his  life 
by  a  familiar  spirit,  though  at  one  time  generally 
held,  has  jjji  recent  years  fallen  into  disfavour  (see 
Zeller,  Sd&rates  [Eng.  tr.  1868],  p.  82  ff. ;  H.  Jack- 
son, in  JPh  v.  [1873]  232  ft'.).  But,  whatever  may 
have  been  the  real  intention  of  Socrates,  it  can 
hardly  be  denied  that,  in  a  society  where  the  belief 
in  the  existence  of  demons  was  widely  prevalent, 
to  many  of  his  hearers  the  Divine  sign  must  have 
suggested  such  an  agency. 

Plato,  in  this  sphere  as  elsewhere,  has  gathered 
up  the  threads  of  previous  speculations  and  woven 
them  into  new  combinations  by  the  play  of  his 
philosophic  fancy.  In  accordance  with  popular 
tradition,  he  says  that  the  demons  are  the  bastard 
sons  of  gods  by  nymphs  or  some  other  mothers 
{Apol.  27  D).  The  demons  are  of  an  airy  substance, 
inferior  to  the  heavenly  ether,  and  serve  as  inter- 
preters between  gods  and  men  (Epinom.  984  E). 
Love  is  a  great  demon  ;  like  all  spirits,  he  is  inter- 
mediate between  the  Divine  and  the  mortal ;  he 
conveys  to  the  gods  the  prayers  and  sacrifices  of 
men,  and  to  men  the  commands  and  replies  of 
the  gods  (Symp.  202  E).  This  recalls  the  Pytha- 
gorean doctrine  previously  quoted,  and  Proclus 
says  it  is  also  Orphic  ;  modern  critics  have  seen  in 
it  a  mode  of  reconciliation  between  the  old  theo- 
logy and  the  new  conception  of  an  inaccessible 
god  (Gruppe,  1054).  Plato  accepts  the  popular 
view  of  demons,  as  identical  with  the  souls  of  the 
dead  :  when  a  good  man  dies,  he  is  honoured  by 
being  enrolled  as  a  demon,  which  is  only  another 
form  of  darjfuiii',  'the  wise  one'  (Cratyl.  398 B). 
Every  man  has  a  distinct  demon  which  attends 
him  during  life  and  after  death  (Phrndo,  107  D, 
Rep.  617  D).  Each  demon  has  his  own  allotted 
sphere  of  operation,  and  watches  over  his  appointed 
charge  like  a  shepherd  over  his  flock  (Polit.  271  D, 
272  E).  The  last-quoted  passages  are  drawn  from 
the  narratives  of  the  myths  with  which  Plato 
diversified  his  more  formal  arguments,  and  his 
true  mind  is  to  be  sought  rather  in  a  passage  of 
the  Timmus  (90  A)  in  which,  with  a  reminiscence 
of  Heraclitus,  he  declares  that  God  has  given  to 
each  man,  as  a  guiding  genius,  the  supreme  form 
of  soul  within  us,  the  rational  faculty  which  dwells 
in  the  summit  of  our  body  and  lifts  us  towards  our 
celestial  kindred. 

Aristotle  is  reported  to  have  assented  to  the 
belief  that  all  men  have  demons  which  accompany 
them  during  the  whole  period  of  their  mortal 
existence  (frag.  193  [Rose])  ;  but  it  is  impossible 
to  say  whether  he  attached  to  it  any  philosophical 
importance.  Xenocrates  agreed  with  the  state- 
ment in  the  Timazus,  that  the  soul  of  man  is  his 
guardian  spirit  (Arist.  Top.  ii.  6.  112a,  37)  ;  and 
he  also  maintained  the  existence  of  a  number  of 
good  and  bad  demons  (Zeller,  Plato,  etc.  [Eng.  tr. 
1876],  p.  593).  But  the  school  which  did  most  to 
establish  a  belief  in  demons  as  a  part  of  the  mental 
equipment  of  its  students  was  unquestionably  the 
Stoic.  The  Stoics  sought  with  unwearied  industry 
to  bring  every  conception  of  popular  religion  into 
connexion  with  their  own  theology ;  and  their 
doctrine  of  pantheism  enabled  them  without  diffi- 
culty to  find  a  place  for  the  demons  within  their 
system.  They  were  firmly  convinced  of  the  ex- 
istence of  demons,  which,  having  like  passions  with 
men,  and  responding  to  their  desires  and  fears, 


594 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Hebrew) 


their  pains  and  pleasures,  superintended  and 
directed  their  fortunes  (Diog.  Laert.  vii.  151). 
These  demons  are  composed  of  soul-substance, 
■which  is  not  scattered  and  lost,  as  Epicurus  main- 
tained (frags.  336,  337  [Usener]),  at  the  dissolu- 
tion of  the  body,  but,  having  in  itself  the  principle 
of  permanence,  is  located  in  the  region  beneath 
the  moon,  and  sustained,  like  the  other  stars,  by 
the  exhalations  rising  from  the  earth  (Sext.  adv. 
Math.  ix.  71).  Posidonius,  who  gave  particular 
attention  to  the  matter,  explained  that  human 
souls  after  death  are  not  sufficiently  pure  to  reach 
the  upper  ether,  and  are  restricted  to  the  lower 
level,  where  they  congregate  among  the  demons. 
Hence  it  is  that,  with  the  strictest  accuracy,  the 
soul  dwelling  within  the  body  may  be  described 
as  the  '  demon  born  with  us '  (Schmekel,  Phitos.  d. 
mittl.  Stoa,  Berlin,  1892,  p.  256).  On  the  other 
hand,  the  Epicureans  controverted  these  fairy- 
tales :  there  are  no  such  beings  as  demons ;  and, 
even  if  there  were,  it  is  inconceivable  that  they 
would  assume  human  shape,  or  that  it  would  be 
possible  for  them  to  communicate  with  us  by 
speech  or  otherwise  (Plut.  Brut.  37  ;  see,  further, 
Epicur.  frags.  393,  394  [Usener]). 

In  writers  of  a  later  period,  such  as  Maximus 
Tyrius,  Apuleius,  and  Philostratus,  the  maxims 
of  demonology  have  come  to  be  commonplaces, 
partly  owing  to  the  influence  of  the  sources  which 
we  have  enumerated,  and  partly  by  the  contact 
with  Oriental  civilizations,  which  had  become  con- 
tinually more  intimate  since  the  beginning  of  the 
Hellenistic  epoch  (Rohde,  ii.  364 ;  Gruppe,  1468). 
Since  the  demons  were  regarded  as  unceasingly 
active  in  the  service  of  the  gods,  they  were  as- 
signed a  definite  place  In  the  celestial  hierarchy  of 
the  Neo-Platonists,  as  subordinate  to  angels  and 
archangels  (Porphyr.  Ep.  ad  Arnob.  10 ;  demons 
were  first  associated  with  <Syye\oi  by  Philo,  ac- 
cording to  Dieterich,  Nekyia,  61).  Hence,  as  part 
of  the  machinery  by  which  the  apologists  of  pagan- 
ism sought  to  shore  up  their  tottering  edifice  against 
the  assaults  of  the  Christians,  they  appear  with 
considerable  frequency  in  the  controversial  writ- 
ings of  the  early  Fathers  of  the  Church. 

It  is  not  within  the  scope  of  this  article  to 
examine  the  various  methods  employed  by  Greek 
magic  for  the  purpose  of  averting,  deceiving,  or 
conciliating  evil  spirits.  The  details  will  be  found 
elsewhere  under  the  titles  Charms  and  Amulets, 
Magic,  etc.  It  is  only  within  recent  years  that 
the  comparative  study  of  anthropology  has  shown 
the  way  by  which  the  future  investigation  of 
Greek  religion  must  travel.  But  the  evidence  of 
ritual  drawn  from  literary  sources  is  difficult  to 
appraise  ;  partly  because  the  development  of  theo- 
logy tended  to  obscure  the  primitive  elements,  and 
partly  because  the  ritual  tacts,  even  when  sepa- 
rated from  later  accretions,  are  capable  of  various 
interpretations.  It  is  well  established  that  the 
beating  of  drums  and  cymbals,  and  particularly  of 
various  kinds  of  bronze  vessels  (schol.  ad  Theocr. 
ii.  36),  was  intended  to  frighten  away  any  demons 
which  might  be  at  hand  on  important  or  ceremonial 
occasions  ;  similarly,  the  use  of  iron  was  effec- 
tive against  demonic  influence  (Riess,  in  Pauly- 
Wissowa,  i.  50).  When,  however,  the  desire  to 
be  on  good  terms  with  evil  demons  is  held  to  be 
the  leading  motive  in  such  various  rites  as  sword- 
dances,  the  ploughing  with  magic  animals,  the 
smearing  of  the  face  with  chalk  or  meal,  or  the 
dressing  of  a  boy  in  girl's  clothes  (cf.  CUE  vii. 
[1893]  243),  it  must'  be  remembered  that  such 
hypotheses  are  far  removed  from  certainty.  The 
debatable  evidence  will  be  found  collected  in 
Gruppe,  894  ff'. 

For  demons  in  relation  to  the  Orphic  cults,  see 
Orphism. 


Literature. — The  main  facts  are  summarized  in  the  articles, 
e.v.  '  Daimon,'  by  von  Sybel,  in  Roscher,  i.  938,  and  by  Waser, 
in  Pauly-Wissowa,  iv.  2010,  where  references  are  given  to  the 
less  accessible  of  the  special  treatises.  See  also  R.  Heinze, 
Xenocrates,  Leipzig,  1892,  pp.  78-123 ;  J.  Tambornino,  de 
A  ntiquorum  Vcemonismo,  Giessen,  1909.  Much  useful  informa- 
tion will  be  found  in  O.  Gruppe,  Gr.  Slythol.  und  Religions- 
gesch.,  Munich,  1906 ;  J.  E.  Harrison,  Proleg.  to  the  Study  oj 
Gr.  Religion2.  Cambridge,  1909  ;  A.  Dieterich,  Nekyia.  Leipzig, 
1893,  esp.  pp.  46-62  ;  H.  Usener,  Gbtternamen,  Bonn,  1896,  esp. 
p.  292ff.;  E.  Rohde,  Psyche*,  Tubingen,  1907. 

A.  C.  Pearson. 
DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Hebrew).— It  will 
be  most  convenient   to  divide  the  material   into 
three  periods  :    pre-exilic,   exilic  and  post-exilic, 
and  Apocryphal. 

1.  THE  PRE-EXILIC  PERIOD.— i.  In  the  early 
Heb.  poems  there  is  but  one  allusion  to  an  angel, 
and  none  to  spirits  or  demons.  The  '  holy  ones ' 
in  Dt  332,  later  supposed  to  be  angels  (cf.  Ac  753, 
Gal  31",  He  22),  were  probably  not  a  part  of  the 
original  text  (cf.  Driver,  Deuteronomy,  Edinburgh, 
1895,  p.  392 ff.).  In  Jg  5s3  we  read:  'Curse  ye 
Meroz,  saith  the  angel  of  Jahweh.'  Probably  the- 
angel  was  a  manifestation  of  Jahweh,  as  in  the 
J  document. 

2.  Our  next  earliest  evidence  is  in  the  J  docu- 
ment. In  Gn  324  cherubim  are  said  to  have  been 
the  guardians  of  Eden's  entrance.  There  is  reason 
to  believe  that  these  beings  were  personified  winds. 
They  find  a  counterpart  in  the  winged  figures  of 
the  Assyr.  sculptures,  which  are  often  pictured  in 
the  act  of  fertilizing  the  sacred  palm  tree  ;  hence 
Tylor  suggested  that  they  were  winds — a  view  now 
accepted  by  many  others.'  The  association  of  such 
figures  with  the  tree  of  life  would  lead  to  the  view 
that  they  were  denizens  of  Paradise,  and  hence 
guardians  of  the  tree  of  life.  Apart  from  the 
cherubim,  no  other  spirits  appear  in  the  early 
chapters  of  Genesis,  but  Jahweh  Himself  deals 
directly  with  men.  This  is  the  case  in  the  Eden 
narrative  (Gn  3),  the  Flood  story  (chs.  6-9),  the  con- 
fusion of  tongues  (ch.  11),  and  the  story  of  Abraham 
(ch.  15).  In  the  last-mentioned  passage  Jahweh 
appears  as  a  flame  of  fire. 

In  Gn  167  we  first  come  upon  the  'angel  of 
Jahweh,'  who  found  Hagar  in  the  wilderness  and 
aided  her,  but  whom,  as  v.18  shows,  Hagar  re- 
garded as  Jahweh  Himself.  The  word  here  and 
elsewhere  in  the  OT  translated  '  angel,'  maVak,  is 
from  a  root  which  appears  in  Arabic  as  laka,  and 
in  Ethiopic  as  la'aka,  '  to  go '  or  '  send  as  a  mes- 
senger.' In  this  case  maVak  Jahweh  means  a 
special  mission  or  coming  of  Jahweh  to  accomplish 
a  special  purpose.  The  '  angel '  is  not,  accordingly, 
an  angel  in  the  later  acceptation  of  the  term.2 
The  same  is  true  of  the  following  instances,  which 
all  appear  in  J,  or  in  literature  closely  akin  to  it. 

In  Gn  18  the  word  '  angel '  is  not  used,  but  Jahweh  is  said  to 
have  visited  Abraham.  The  '  two  angels '  of  ch.  19  are  a  later 
addition  to  the  narrative,  and,  in  the  language  of  a  later  epoch, 
describe  Jahweh's  companions.  In  Gn  32aJff-  a  '  man  '  comes 
and  wrestles  with  Jacob ;  he  is  in  reality  Jahweh,  though  not 
formally  declared  by  the  text  to  be  so.  This  '  man  '  represents 
a  '  mission '  or  '  coming '  of  Jahweh,  as  did  the  '  angel  of  Jah- 
weh '  in  ch.  16.  It  is  probably  this  '  man  '  who  is  referred  to  in 
Gn  481s  as  'the  angel  which  hath  redeemed  me  [Jacob].'  In  Ex 
32  the  'angel  of  Jahweh'  appeared  to  Moses  in  the  burning 
bush,  but  it  was  Jahweh  Himself  who  saw  that  Moses  turned 
aside  to  see  the  bush  (v.4),.  and  Jahweh  who  spoke  to  Moses 
(v. 7).  Similarly,  the  '  angel  of  Jahweh '  appeared  in  the  way  to 
stop  Balaam  (Nu  2222-35),  in  Jos  513-15  a  '  man '  appeared  to 
Joshua  as  the  captain  of  the  host  of  Jahweh  ;  he  waB  the  same 
manifestation  elsewhere  called  the  '  angel  of  Jahweh.'  In  Jg  21 
the  '  angel '  or  '  manifestation '  of  Jahweh  moved  up  from  Gil^al 
to  Bethel.  The  '  angel  of  Jahweh  '  appeared  to  Gideon  (Jg  6^), 
and  it  is  clear  from  vv. 21-23  that  He  was  Jahweh  Himself.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  '  angel  of  Jahweh  '  who  appeared  to  the  wife 
of  Manoah  in  Jg  132ff-.  In  2  S  24'4  David  falls  into  the  hand  of 
Jahweh,  who  turns  out  (v.  16)  to  be  His  angel. 

In  all  these  passages  the  '  angel  of  Jahweh '  is 

1  Cf.  Barton,  Sem.  Or.,  London,  1902,  p.  91,  and  the  references 
there  given  ;  also  Skinner,  Genesis,  Edinburgh,  1910,  p.  8911.; 
for  a  divergent  view,  see  art.  Cherub,  vol.  iii.  p.  608  ff. 

2  Cf.  W.  E.  Addis,  Documents  of  the  Hexateuch,  Lrtdn-n, 
1S92,  i.  24,  n.  1. 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Hebrew) 


595 


Jahweh  Himself,  who  has  come  upon  some  special 
mission.  Perhaps  it  was  regarded  as  a  kind  of 
partial  manifestation  of  Jahweh,  but  at  all  events 
there  was  no  clear  line  of  distinction  between 
Jahweh  and  His  angel.  These  manifestations  of 
Jahweh  were  regarded  as  blessed  or  beautiful 
things,  so  that,  when  it  was  desired  especially  to 
praise  a  man,  one  said  to  him  :  *  Thou  art  good  in 
my  sight  as  an  angel  of  God '  (cf.  1  S  299,  2  S  H17- 20 
19*').  At  the  same  time,  the  term  mal'ak  was 
often  used  to  designate  the  messenger  of  a  king 
(see  1  S  11s  1619  19  "•  "•»,  and  cf.  1  K  202,  Jer  27"). 
In  the  J  document  other  beings  of  the  Divine 
order  besides  Jahweh  are  represented  as  real. 
These  are  called  '  sons  of  God  '  [b'ni  hd-'elShim)  in 
Gn  62-  4,  where  they  are  said  to  have  taken  human 
wives  and  to  have  begotten  the  heroes  who  lived  in 
olden  days.  These  beings  are  not  called  angels, 
and  do  not  appear  again  in  pre-exilic  literature. 

3.  In  the  E  document  the  same  conditions  of 
thought  prevail,  though  here  angels  appear  at 
times  in  numbers. 

In  Gn  22H  an  angel  called  to  Abraham  out  of  heaven  to  pre- 
vent the  sacrifice  of  Isaac.  The  present  text  calls  him  the 
'  angel  of  Jahweh,'  but  it  is  thought  that  in  the  original  form  of 
the  text  he  was  called  the  'angel  of  God.'  In  Gn  281-  Jacob 
saw  the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending  upon  the  ladder 
of  his  dream,  but  they  were  so  closely  associated  with  God  that 
he  said:  'This  is  none  other  than  the  house  of  God.'  In  Gn 
31H  the  'angel  of  God'  appeared  to  Jacob  in  Aram,  but  v. 13 
tellB  us  that  he  said  :  '  I  am  the  God  of  Bethel.'  The  angel  was, 
then,  only  a  manifestation  of  God.  In  Gn  32lff-  '  the  angels  of 
God'  met  Jacob,  and  he  said:  'This  is  God's  host.'  Here 
apparently  the  angels  were  a  manifestation  of  God  and  of  His 
attendant  company  of  spirits.  In  Ex  34b  it  was  God  Himself 
who  called  to  Moses  out  of  the  burning  bush.  In  Ex  14'w  the 
'angel  of  God  '  who  had  gone  before  the  camp  of  Israel  removed 
and  went  behind.  This  angel  performed  the  same  function  as 
the  pillar  of  cloud  in  the  J  document  (cf.  Nu  2016).  That  the 
'angel  of  God"  was  practically  identical  with  God  is  shown  in 
Ex  2320ff-)  where  God  declared' that  His  '  name '  was  in  the  angel 
that  should  go  before  Israel. 

There  is,  then,  no  radical  difference  of  conception 
between  J  and  E.  In  both  of  them  the  angel  of 
the  Deity  is  usually  a  manifestation  of  Deity  Him- 
self, though  in  one  instance  (Gn  32lff-)  the  angels 
are  apparently  the  spirits  who  accompany  God. 
In  Jg  S23  (a  passage  which  G.  F.  Moore  [SBOT, 
New  York,  1898]  attributes  to  E),  God  is  said  to 
have  sent  an  evil  spirit  between  Abimelech  and  the 
men  of  Shechem  ;  and  similarly  in  1  S  1614-16-  **  1810 
(a  passage  which  Budde  attributes  to  J)  an  evil 
spirit  from  God  is  said  to  have  come  upon  Saul. 

4.  This  last  conception  is  similar  to  that  in  1  K 
2219'23,  where  Jahweh  is  thought  of  as  surrounded 
by  a  host  of  spirits.  These  spirits  were  as  yet 
undifferentiated.  They  had  no  moral  character ; 
they  were  neither  angels  nor  demons,  but  took  on 
their  character  from  the  nature  of  the  tasks  which 
they  were  given  to  perform.  Jahweh  Himself  was 
responsible  for  whatever  was  done  ;  He  lured  Ahab 
to  his  death  ;  it  was  at  His  bidding  that  one  of  the 
spirits  became  a  lying  spirit  in  the  mouths  of 
Ahab's  prophets  to  accomplish  this  end.  The 
spirits  of  Jahweh's  court  were  not  the  only  spirits 
in  which  the  Hebrews  of  the  period  believed.  In 
2  K  2i2  and  6"  reference  is  made  to  a  kind  of 
horsemen  of  the  air,  who  seem  to  have  been  re- 
garded as  spirit  defenders  of  Israel,  for  one  passage 
relates  that,  when  the  chariot  of  fire  took  Elijah 
away,  Elisha  exclaimed  :  '  The  chariots  of  Israel 
and  the  horsemen  thereof  1 '  and  the  other  repre- 
sents these  horsemen  as  the  defenders  of  Elisha 
from  a  foreign  army. 

5.  There  are  few  other  references  to  angels  or 
spirits  before  the  Exile.  An  early  Ephraimite 
narrative  (1  K  195)  tells  us  that  an  angel  touched 
Elijah  and  awakened  him.  One  late  prophetic 
narrative  tells  us  twice  that  an  angel  of  Jah- 
weh spoke  to  Elijah  (2  K  Is- 1B),  while  another, 
also  late  (1  K  1318),  tells  that  an  angel  spoke  to 
another  prophet.     In  2  K  19S5=Is  373Mve  are  told 


that  an  angel  of  Jahweh  smote  the  Assyrians  of 
Sennacherib's  army.  Pre-exilic  prophets  make  al- 
most no  reference  to  angels,  although  Hosea  (124) 
declares  that  Jacob  'had  power  over  the  angel.' 
This  is  a  reference  to  the  '  man  '  of  Gn  3224ff>,  and 
is  the  only  occurrence  of  '  angel '  in  a  pre-exilic 
prophet.  The  Deuteronomist  makes  no  mention 
of  angels.  One  Deut.  editor  refers  to  the  '  angel  of 
Jahweh '  (Ex  332),  but  he  was  influenced  by  E. 

6.  One  other  class  of  supernatural  beings  of  the 
time  before  the  Exile  remains  to  be  considered, 
viz.  the  seraphim.  Our  knowledge  of  them  is 
gained  from  one  passage  only,  Is  61'7.  In  his 
vision,  Isaiah  saw  Jahweh,  above  whom  the  sera- 
phim were  standing.  Each  one  had  six  wings,  and 
they  constantly  uttered  the  trisagion.  At  the  sound 
of  their  voices  'the  foundations  of  the  threshold 
were  moved.'  Finally,  it  was  one  of  these  who 
took  from  the  altar  a  live  coal  and  touched  the 
prophet's  lips.  It  is  clear  that,  like  the  cheru- 
bim, the  seraphim  were  not  angels  {i.e.  messengers), 
but  were  attendants  of  Jahweh.  Like  the  cheru- 
bim, they  are  composite  figures,  and  later  Jewish 
thought  placed  them  with  the  cherubim  in  Para- 
dise (cf.  En.  6110  717,  Slav.  En.  201  211). 

Various  explanations  of  the  name  and  nature  of  the  seraphim 
have  been  offered.  (1)  An  old  explanation,  now  generally 
abandoned,  derived  sdrdph  from  the  Arab,  sarufa,  '  to  be  emi- 
nent in  glory,'  and  held  the  seraphim  to  be  a  kind  of  archangels. 
(2)  Delitzsch  and  Hommel  have  connected  it  with  the  Assyr. 
Sarrdpu,  the  *  burner,'  an  epithet  applied  to  the  Bab.  god 
Nergal,  a  sun-deity;  but,  although  an  old  syllabary  says  that 
this  was  the  epithet  of  Nergal  in  the  '  Westland,'  no  such  deity 
has  appeared  in  any  real  Ganaanite  source,  and  is  consequently 
improbable.  (3)  Cheyne  (EBi.  art.  '  Demons ')  has,  under  the 
influence  of  the  previous  suggestion,  attempted  to  connect  the 
name  of  the  god  ReSef.  whose  name  occurs  in  a  Phoen.  inscrip- 
tion (CIS  i.  38).  This  he  equates  with  sdrdph,  supposing  that  a 
transposition  of  letters  occurred — a  solution  which  seems  even 
more  improbable.  (4)  Less  satisfactory  still  was  Hitzig's  sug- 
gestion that  sdrdph  is  to  be  connected  with  the  Egyptian 
Serapis.  (6)  More  recently  Marti  and  others  have  connected 
the  seraphim  with  the  Egyptian  griffins  found,  for  example,  in 
a  Xllth  dynasty  tomb  at  Beni  Hassan.  These  griffins  were 
winged,  were  guardians  of  the  grave,  and  in  demotic  were 
called  seref  (cf.  B.  Pietschmann,  Gesch.  der  Phonzzier,  Berlin, 
1S89,  p.  177  ff.).  (6)  Probably  the  true  explanation  connects  the 
seraphim  with  the  fiery  (seraphim)  serpents  of  Nu  216,  and  sup- 
poses that  the  seraphim  were  primarily  serpents.  This  view  is 
supported  by  the  fact  that  Heb.  tradition  gave  the  serpent  a 
prominent  r61e  in  Paradise  (cf.  Gn  3),  that  they  worshipped  a 
serpent-god  down  to  the  time  of  Hezekiah  (2  K  184fl"-),  that  there 
was  at  Jerusalem  a  well  called  the  '  Dragon's  fountain '  (Neh 
213 ;  probably  the  modern  Bir  Eyyub),  that  a  brazen  serpent 
was  found  at  Gezer  in  the  pre-exilic  Hebrew  stratum  (R.  A.  S. 
Macalister,  Bible  Side-  Lights  from  the  Mound  of  Gezer.  London, 
1906,  p.  76),  and  that  in  En.  207  serpents  (Gr.  SpaKovres)  are 
associated  with  the  cherubim  in  Paradise,  as  in  the  Enoch  pass- 
ages cited  above  seraphim  are  associated  with  the  cherubim. 
In  course  of  time  these  serpents  of  Paradise  were  regarded  as 
the  attendants  or  guards  of  Jahweh,  and  were  given  wings,  etc. 
to  make  them  composite. 

In  pre-exilic  Hebrew  thought,  then,  Jahweh  had 
three  classes  of  attendants — cherubim,  spirits,  and 
seraphim.  The  cherubim  and  seraphim  were 
guardians  of  Paradise  and  attendants  of  Jahweh. 
The  spirits  were  His  courtiers,  and  might  be  sent 
on  missions  by  Him.  They  played,  however,  a 
very  small  part.  Jahweh  Himself  was  thought  to 
appear  in  special  manifestations  to  accomplish  His 
purposes.  Such  manifestations  were  called  the 
'  angel  of  Jahweh,'  or  the  '  angel  of  God.' 

7.  Of  demons  in  this  period  there  are  but  slight 
traces.  In  the  old  poem  which  now  forms  Dt  33 
it  is  said  in  v.13  that  the  '  deep  '  (t'hSm)  '  coucheth ' 
(rdbeseth)  beneath.  Driver  has  noted  (Deut.  p.  406) 
that  rdbeseth  is  ordinarily  used  of  an  animal ;  and, 
when  one  recalls  that  under  the  kindred  name 
Tiamat  the  deep  was  personified  in  Babylonia  as 
a  dragon,  and  that  this  dragon  appears  in  post- 
exilic  Heb.  literature  as  Rahab  and  Leviathan  (see 
below),  it  becomes  probable  that  Dt  3313  personi- 
fied the  subterranean  abyss  as  a  great  dragon  or 
demon.  In  Dt  321'  Hebrews  are  said  to  have  sacri- 
ficed to  shedim,  not  to  'Eldah  (God).  Skedim  was 
understood  by  the  translators  of  the  Septuagint  as 


596 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Hebrew) 


demons,  but,  as  it  is  made  parallel  with  '  foreign 
gods  '  (cf.  v.18),  and  is  the  equivalent  of  the  Assyr. 
Mdu,  or  bull-deity,  it  is  probable  that  it  is  used 
here  as  the  name  of  a  foreign  deity.  The  fact  that 
the  root  shed  became  in  later  Judaism  the  general 
term  for  '  demon'  (cf.  Jastrow,  Diet,  of  the  Targ., 
Talmud,  and  Mid.,  New  York,  1903,  p.  1558a)  does 
not  prove  this  inference  wrong.  It  this  view  is 
correct,  it  makes  no  difference  to  our  subject 
whether  we  date  Dt  32,  with  Ewald  and  Dillmann, 
in  the  reign  of  Jeroboam  II.  ;  with  Kuenen  and 
Driver,  about  630  B.C.  ;  or,  with  Steuernagel,  in  the 
Exile. 

There  are  no  clear  references  in  pre-exilic  litera- 
ture to  other  demons,  but  it  is  probable  that  the 
Hebrews  of  the  period  believed  that  demons  in- 
habited waste  places,  and  that  they  endeavoured  to 
propitiate  them.  The  sacrifice  to  the  wilderness 
demon  Azazel  {q.v.)  (Lv  16)  is  clearly  a  survival 
from  pre-exilic  days,  and  it  is  probable  that  Lilith 
(Is  3414)  was  an  old  wilderness  demon. 

II.  Exilic  and  post-exilic  canonical 
MATERIAL. — I.  In  Ezekiel  the  term  'angel'  does 
not  occur,  though  in  92flr-  6ff-  and  in  403ar-  a  super- 
natural man  appears  who  performs  the  functions  of 
an  angel.  In  the  former  passage  he  directs  the 
marking  of  idolaters  for  destruction  ;  in  the  latter 
he  measures  off  the  dimensions  of  the  new  sanc- 
tuary. The  older  belief  in  spirits  survives  to  some 
extent  in  Ezekiel.  In  22  3>2- 14  8lff-  a  '  spirit '  is 
said  to  have  come  upon  Ezekiel  and  filled  him  with 
ecstatic  inspiration.  This  spirit  was  one  of  the 
members  of  Jahweh's  court,  of  which  1  K  22  gives 
such  a  vivid  description  (cf.  Toy,  SBOT,  New  York, 
1899).  This  usage  of  'spirit'  is  found  only  in  the 
earlier  chapters  of  Ezekiel,  and  in  8lff-  is  made 
synonymous  with  'the  hand  of  Jahweh.'  In  ll5ff- 
the  term  '  spirit '  occurs,  but  it  here  approaches 
more  nearly  the  spirit  of  Jahweh,  and  does  not 
seem  to  denote  a  separate  entity  of  a  lower  order. 
It  inspires  the  prophet  to  reflexion  rather  than 
ecstasy.  In  other  parts  of  Ezekiel  '  spirits '  do  not 
occur. 

2.  In  Deutero-Isaiah  angels  are  not  mentioned, 
and  in  Trito-Isaiah  only  one  reference  to  an  angel 
or  spirit  is  found,  viz.  '  the  angel  of  his  [Jahweh's] 
presence'  [Heb.  'face'],  Is  639.  The  expression 
occurs  in  a  poetic  reference  to  the  angel  mentioned 
in  Ex  2321,  of  whom  it  was  said,  '  My  name  is  in 
him.'  The  term  '  presence '  or  'face'  seems  to  be 
borrowed  from  Ex  3312ff-,  where  Jahweh  says  to 
Moses  :  '  My  presence  shall  go  with  thee.'  The 
reference  in  Isaiah  really  betokens  a  post-exilic 
literary  survival  of  a  pre-exilic  idea. 

3.  In  Zechariah  the  '  angel '  in  the  function  of 
messenger  appears  as  a  fixed  idea.  The  angel 
talked  with  the  prophet,  and  in  this  way  Zechariah 
received  all  his  prophetic  messages  (cf .  Zee  l9-  "• u- 
u.  .4.19  55.10  64.6)      The  angel  is  here  cieariy  an 

intermediary  between  God  and  man.  Zechariah 
never  is  said  to  have  seen  God.  In  Zechariah,  too, 
we  meet  for  the  first  time  with  the  division  of 
angels  into  ranks.  In  23, 4  one  angel  is  clearly 
the  commander  of  another,  and  sends  him  on  a 
mission.  The  '  angel  of  Jahweh '  appears  here  also 
as  a  kind  of  guardian  of  Israel,  since  he  protects 
the  priest,  the  representative  of  the  nation.  In 
lllff-  and  4lff-  the  angel  of  Jahweh  appears  as  a  kind 
of  Grand  Vizier  among  the  other  angels.  Possibly 
this  early  differentiation  of  angels  into  ranks  was 
due  to  Persian  influence,  though  this  seems  im- 
probable, for,  when  this  prophecy  was  written, 
only  twenty  years  had  elapsed  since  Cyrus's  con- 
quest of  Babylonia  and  Palestine. 

4.  In  the  Book  of  Job  we  have  different  strata. 
The  prologue  is  older  than  the  poem,  and  may 
have  been  composed  before  the  Exile.  In  it 
Jahweh  is  represented  as  surrounded  by  a  court  of 


supernatural  beings.  These  are  called  benS  ha- 
'eldhim,  or  beings  of  the  Divine  order — the  old  name 
employed  in  Gn  62'4.  These  beings  are  pictured  as 
free  to  walk  through  the  earth  wherever  they  will, 
but  upon  appointed  days  they  gather  to  pay  their 
court  to  Jahweh.  Satan  is  still  a  member  of  this 
group,  though  he  has  become  offended  and  has  lost 
his  faith  in  the  existence  of  disinterested  virtue. 
He  is  permitted  to  go  forth  upon  a  mission  of  ex- 
perimentation— a  mission  which  proves  most  pain- 
ful to  his  victim.  The  whole  conception  is  quite 
akin  to  that  of  1  K  22.  In  the  poem,  which  is  later 
than  the  prologue,  little  is  said  of  angels,  though 
that  little  is  of  interest.  In  51  the  possibility  of 
angelic  intercessors  is  referred  to.  The  angelic 
beings  are  here  called  '  holy  ones. '  In  418  and 
1516  these  '  holy  ones '  are  said  to  be  less  pure  than 
God,  but  much  holier  than  men.  The  '  angel '  of 
33s3  (RV)  is  better  rendered,  with  the  margin, 
'  messenger,'  since  Elihu  is  referring  to  himself  and 
not  to  a  heavenly  messenger  (cf.  Barton,  Com.  on 
Job,  N.Y.,  1911).  In  38'  the  'sons  of  God'  of 
the  prologue  are  referred  to,  and  are  identified 
with  the  morning  stars. 

5.  In  the  Psalter,  angels  are  messengers  of  either 

food  or  evil.  Ps  347  declares :  '  The  angel  of 
ahweh  encampeth  round  about  them  that  fear 
him,'  i.e.  he  is  their  protection.  Ps  356-  6  declares 
that  God  lets  His  angel  chase  and  persecute  the 
wicked.  Similarly,  Ps  7849  declares  that  God  cast 
upon  the  Egyptians  'the  fierceness  of  his  anger, 
wrath,  indignation,  and  trouble,  a  band  of  evil 
angels.'  Here  the  angels  are  personifications  of 
the  wrath  and  indignation  of  Jahweh.  Ps  104* 
reverses  in  a  way  the  process,  declaring  :  '  He  .makes 
his  angels  winds.'  The  angels  as  guardians  are 
again  referred  to  in  Ps  911"-  :  '  He  shall  give  his 
angels  charge  over  thee,  to  keep  thee.  They  shall 
bear  thee  up  in  their  hands.'  Ps  10320  and  1482 
call  upon  angels  as  well  as  men  to  praise  God.  Ps 
896-  '  implies  that  God  is  surrounded  in  heaven  by 
a  council  of  angels.  This  is  also  implied  in  Ps 
10320.  21  an(j  i482(  where  the  angels  are  spoken  of  as 
the  '  ministers  who  do  God's  pleasure,'  and  as  '  his 
host.'  In  Ps  85,  where  the  present  text,  in  speak- 
ing of  man,  reads  :  '  Thou  hast  made  him  little  less 
than  God '  ('eldhtm),  the  reference  is  probably  to 
angels,  and  the  original  text  was,  perhaps,  '  sons  of 
God '  (b'ni  hd-'elShim). 

6.  The  Priestly  document  contains  no  reference 
to  angels.  It  conceives  of  God  as  far  away,  but 
also  as  so  powerful  that  He  can  simply  speak  and 
His  word  is  obeyed.  It  represents  Him  in  Levi- 
ticus as  speaking  to  Moses,  but  how  He  spoke  it 
never  tells.  It  gives  no  hint  that  it  was  through 
angels. 

7.  The  same  is  true  of  the  Books  of  Chronicles, 
which  are  closely  dependent  upon  P  for  their  point 
of  view.  The  Chronicler  mentions  angels  in  two 
passages  only,  1  Ch  21  and  2  Ch  3221.  The  former 
passage  is  dependent  on  2  S  24,  and  has  taken 
over  the  angel  who  inflicted  the  punishment  for 
David's  census  (see  vv.9-  "• 12- 13-  "•  ") ;  the  latter  is 
dependent  upon  2  K  1935,  and  has  taken  over  the 
story  of  the  angel  who  destroyed  Sennacherib's 
army. 

8.  Angels  do  not  really  appear  in  the  Book  of 
Ecclesiastes.  The  word  '  angel '  is  found,  it  is  true, 
in  56  (Heb.  56),  but  it  is  probably  a  reverent  way 
of  referring  to  God  Himself  (cf .  Barton,  Ecclesiastes, 
in  ICC,  1908).  The  Chronicler  had  set  the  example 
for  this  procedure  by  making  the  angel  who 
afflicted  Israel  stand  for  God  (cf.  1  Ch  2110-  20). 

9.  In  the  Book  of  Daniel  the  belief  in  angels 
re-appears,  and  they  are  thought  to  be  exalted  far 
above  man  (see  816"18  1016).  In  320  an  angel  comes 
in  human  form  to  deliver  the  three  children  trom 
the  fiery  furnace  (cf.  v.28),  and  in  622  God's  angel 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Hebrew) 


597 


is  said  to  have  stopped  the  mouths  of  the  lions. 
The  conception  of  the  division  of  angels  into  ranks, 
which  was  found  in  Zechariah,  re-appears  in  an 
accentuated  form  in  Daniel.  Each  nation  appar- 
ently has  a  '  prince '  or  archangel  detailed  to  look 
after  its  interests,  so  that  there  is  a  *  prince  of  the 
kingdom  of  Persia'  (1012"20),  a  'prince  of  Greece' 
(1(P),  and  a  'prince  of  Israel'  (1021).  The  last 
mentioned  is  Michael,  who  was  '  one  of  the  chief 
princes '  (10ls  121).  Possibly  this  conception  is  also 
round  in  Is  3321ff-,  which  dates  from  about  335- 
333  B.C.  In  Daniel,  too,  we  come  upon  a  new 
feature  found  in  no  other  canonical  book  of  the 
period :  the  angels,  or  at  least  the  archangels, 
begin  to  have  names.  In  addition  to  Michael, 
already  mentioned,  '  the  man  Gabriel '  (Gabriel 
means  'hero  or  man  of  God')  appeared  to  impart 
wisdom  to  Daniel  (816II>  92Iff-).  The  giving  of 
definite  proper  names  to  angels — a  feature  very 
common  in  some  of  the  apocryphal  books — marks 
another  step  forward  in  the  evolution  of  the  con- 
ception. 

io.  Taking  the  post-exilic  time  as  a  whole,  some 
interesting  general  facts  with  reference  to  angels 
may  be  gathered.  They  are  called  by  a  variety 
of  names  :  'sons  of  God,'  i.e.  of  'eldhim  (Job  l6  21, 
Dn  3M) ;  'eldhim,  i.e.  '  gods '  (Ps  88  and  perhaps  979), 
'sons  of  the  mighty,'  i.e.  of  'Him,  lit.  'gods'  (Ps 
291  896);  'elim,  or  'gods'  (Ex  15");  qibbdrim,  or 
'heroes'  (Jl  3  [4]  u) ;  shom'rim,  or  'keepers'  (Is 
62s) ;  '  host  of  the  height '  (Is  2421) ;  '  morning 
stars'  (Job  38') ;  'trim,  i.e.  'watchers'  (Dn  417(">) ; 
'holy  ones'  Zee  146,  Ps  89'),  and  'princes'  (Dn 
IQis.  20.  2ij_  Although  angels  are  once  identified 
with  stars  (Job  387),  there  is  no  attempt  in  the 
canonical  books,  such  as  appears  in  some  of  the 
apocryphal  books,  to  define  the  nature  of  angels 
or  to  tell  the  substance  of  which  they  are  composed. 
The  term  'host  of  the  height'  applied  to  them  in 
Is  2421  is,  no  doubt,  a  modification  of  the  pre-exilic 
phrase  '  host  of  heaven,'  which  was  applied  to 
the  stars.  During  the  last  years  of  the  Judsean 
monarchy  those  had  been  worshipped  (see  Jer  82, 
Zeph  Is,  Dt  419) ;  they  were  then  considered  as 
gods,  and  the  prophets  opposed  their  worship. 
As  the  close  of  the  Exile  drew  near,  Jahweh  was 
declared  to  be  supreme  over  them  (Is  4512 ;  cf. 
4026),  and  in  Neh  9s  they  are  said  to  worship 
Jahweh.  Apparently  it  was  believed  that  this 
host  was  not  subdued  to  the  position  of  subordi- 
nates and  worshippers  without  a  struggle  (see 
Job  252,  Is  2421  271  345),  and  the  reference  in  271  to 
Leviathan,  which,  as  shown  below,  is  a  name  for 
the  Bab.  dragon  Tiamat,  suggests  that  the  idea 
of  a  struggle  was  borrowed  from  the  Babylonian 
Creation  Epic. 

It  has  been  held  by  some  that  the  division  of  angels  into 
ranks  and  the  belief  in  archangels  point  to  the  fact  that  the 
angels  originated  in  the  subjugation  of  other  gods  to  Jahweh. 
The  argument  in  favour  of  this  view  is  strong.  It  would  seem 
improbable  that  the  development  of  archangels  was  due  in  the 
first  place  to  Persian  influence,  for  they  appear  already  in 
Zechariah,  when  Persian  influence  was  too  new.  The  fact 
that  in  Daniel  the  different  archangels  are  each  the  prince  or 
guardian  of  a  special  nation  is  in  favour  of  the  origin  suggested, 
for  it  assigns  to  them  just  the  role  that  the  national  gods  of 
the  heathen  world  had  performed. 

The  functions  of  angels  were  various.  They 
acted  as  Jahweh's  court  (Job  1.2)  and  as  His  council 
(Ps  89') ;  they  might  be  intercessors  for  men  (Job 
51),  or  guardians  of  the  righteous  (Ps.  347),  whom 
they  bear  up  in  their  hands  (Ps  91"'-,  Nu  2016  [P]) ; 
Uiey  are  the  guides  and  channels  of  Divine  revela- 
tion to  prophets  (Zee  l8-  "■ 12-  1S-  "• 19  etc.,  Dn  816ff- 
iO»-"ff. )  i  they  inflict  punishment  on  the  wicked 
(Ps  78'"') ;  some  of  them  guard  the  nations  (Dn 
1020,  2I) ;  and  in  general  they  do  whatever  Jahweh 
wishes  to  have  done. 

Angels  during  this  period  were  for  the  most  part 
without  names.     There  are  only  three  exceptions 


to  this:  the  'angel  of  his  presence'  (Is  63"),  which, 
as  pointed  out  above,  is  a  poetic  way  of  referring 
to  a  pre-exilic  idea ;  and  the  individual  angels 
Michael  and  Gabriel.  These  last  appear  in  Daniel 
only,  the  latest  book  of  the  canon  to  contain  any 
reference  to  angels.  They  are  canonical  examples 
of  a  tendency  which  is  abundantly  illustrated  in 
the  apocryphal  literature  to  individualize  angels 
and  to  attribute  permanent  characteristics  to 
them.  The  name  Michael,  meaning  '  Who  is  like 
God?',  was  a  natural  one  to  apply  to  an  angel, 
though  it  had  previously  been  borne  by  a  number 
of  men  (see  Nu  1313,  1  Ch  513-  "  640  73  818  1220  2718, 
2  Ch  212,  and  Ezr  8s).  Gabriel,  as  already  noted, 
signifies  'man  of  God,'  and  was  also  a  natural 
name  to  give  an  angel. 

n.  The  Hebrew  belief  in  demons  belongs  especi- 
ally to  the  time  after  the  Exile.  There  were 
several  causes  which  led  to  this  belief.  In  pre- 
exilic  times,  it  had  been  thought  that  Jahweh  did 
everything,  both  good  and  bad.  Amos  says  (3s) . 
'  Shall  evil  befall  a  city  and  Jahweh  hath  not  done 
it  ? '  This  evil  might  be  accomplished  through  the 
agency  of  non-ethical  spirits,  as  in  1  K  2219"23,  but 
Jahweh  was  in  reality  responsible  for  it.  As  in 
the  case  of  the  spirit  that  visited  Saul,  it  might 
be  called  an  '  evil  spirit '  (1  S  161Jff- ) ;  but  this  only 
signified  that  its  effects  were  undesirable,  not  that 
the  spirit  was  morally  bad.  The  spirit  in  this 
case  came  from  Jahweh,  and  He  was  really  respon- 
sible. This  view  was  entertained  by  one  writer 
until  near  the  close  of  the  Exile,  for  Deutero- 
Isaiah  represents  Jahweh  as  saying :  '  I  make 
peace,  and  create  evil '  (Is  457).  In  the  time  after 
the  Exile,  men  began  to  feel  that  to  attribute  evil 
to  God  was  to  think  unworthily  of  Him  ;  hence  the 
occurrence  of  evil  was  ascribed  to  the  agency  of 
demons.  This  was,  however,  only  one  of  the  forces 
at  work.  With  the  triumph  of  monotheism  the 
belief  in  the  reality  of  the  heathen  deities  did 
not  altogether  disappear,  and  those  gods  whose 
worshippers  had  been  hostile  to  Israel,  or  had 
opposed  the  prophets  so  as  to  be  denounced  in  the 
sacred  books,  were  reduced  to  the  rank  of  demons. 
From  time  immemorial,  too,  the  belief  had  existed 
that  dark  and  deserted  localities  were  inhabited 
by  unfriendly  spirits.  From  the  earliest  times, 
pains  had  been  taken  to  propitiate  some  of  these 
by  sacrifices,  and  such  unfriendly  spirits  now 
became  demons  in  the  commonly  accepted  view. 
Then,  too,  the  old  mythology  had  preserved  the 
memory  of  a  heavenly  court  of  spirits,  or  b'nc 
ha-'elOhim.  It  kept  alive  the  memory  of  how 
some  of  these  spirits  had  been  commissioned  in 
the  olden  time  to  bring  men  to  destruction,  and 
from  this  circle  of  ideas  there  was  born  a  belief  in 
an  arch-enemy  of  good — Satan — who  has  since 
held  a  large  place  in  the  world's  thought.  Some 
of  these  demons  were  believed  to  inhabit  the 
deserts  and  to  roam  about  at  night  (cf.  Is  1321  34H). 
Like  the  jinn  of  the  Arabs,  they  were  supposed  to 
take  on  the  forms  of  wild  animals.  Some  of  them 
still  maintained  the  quasi-Divine  character  which 
they  had  possessed  before  the  Exile,  and  sacrifices 
were  still  offered  to  them.  Once  it  is  implied 
that  the  home  of  the  arch-demon  is  in  Sheol 
(cf.  Job  18"). 

Of  individual  demons,  the  one  that  played  the 
largest  part  in  later  thought  is  Satan,  though  he 
appears  in  but  three  passages  of  the  OT.  (a)  The 
earliest  of  these  is  the  prologue  of  Job,  which  may 
be  pre-exilic.  Here  Satan  is  one  of  the  '  sons  of 
God,'  or '  spirits,'  who  compose  the  court  of  Jahweh. 
Much  of  the  character  of  the  un-ethical  spirit 
which  was  sent  on  a  mission  of  evil  to  men  still 
attaches  to  him,  but  he  has  developed  beyond 
this,  for  he  has  become  permanently  sceptical  of 
disinterested  virtue.     He  can  do  nothing  without 


598 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Hebrew) 


Jahweh's  permission,  but  his  state  of  mind  is 
thought  to  be  a  cause  of  regret  to  Jahweh.  In 
consequence  of  Jahweh's  concern  for  Satan  and 
His  desire  to  win  him  once  more  to  a  proper 
attitude,  He  permits  him  to  make  investigations 
in  disinterested  virtue  by  bringing  evil  upon  Job. 
In  this  narrative  Jahweh  is  represented  as  ulti- 
mately responsible  for  the  evil,  but  it  is  permitted 
for  a  good  end — the  scattering  of  the  doubts  which 
had  invaded  the  angelic  circle  and  embittered  one 
of  the  courtiers  of  heaven. 

(6)  In  Zee  31  Satan  appears  to  oppose  the  high 
priest  Joshua  before  the  'angel  of  Jahweh.'  The 
'Adversary'  (for  such  is  the  meaning  of  the  name 
Satan)  stands  in  the  court  of  Jahweh  as  a  public 
prosecutor,  and,  as  Joshua  is  the  representative 
of  the  nation,  so  Satan  is  the  adversary  or  prose- 
cutor of  the  nation.  The  fact  that  the  angel  of 
Jahweh  rebukes  him  shows  that  Satan  has  under- 
taken his  evil  opposition  to  the  people  of  God  on 
his  own  initiative  and  not  by  Divine  permission, 
as  was  the  case  in  the  Book  of  Job.  His  malignity 
is  accordingly  somewhat  more  developed,  and  in 
the  circle  of  ideas  represented  by  this  passage 
Satan  really  relieves  Jahweh  of  the  responsibility 
for  evil. 

(c)  The  only  other  OT  passage  where  Satan  is 
mentioned  is  1  Ch  211,  which  is  a  further  witness 
to  the  fact  that  Satan  was  now  held  to  be  respon- 
sible for  the  existence  of  evil.  The  chapter 
gives  an  account  of  David's  census  and  of  the 
punishment  for  it,  and  is  dependent  on  2  S  24 ; 
but,  whereas  it  is  said  in  Samuel  that  Jahweh  said 
to  David,  '  Go,  number  Israel,'  because  He  was 
angry  with  the  people,  it  is  said  in  Chronicles 
that  Satan  'moved  David  to  number  Israel.' 
Satan  is  clearly  a  development  out  of  the  group 
of  spirits  which  were  in  earlier  days  thought  to 
form  Jahweh's  court,  members  of  which  were  sent 
upon  errands  of  disaster  to  men. 

Another  demon  who  appears  in  one  post-exilic 
canonical  passage  (Lv  16)  is  Azazel  (q.v.).  In 
the  ritual  of  the  Day  of  Atonement  it  is  prescribed 
that  a  goat  shall  be  chosen  '  for  Azazel,  that  the 
sins  of  the  people  shall  be  confessed  over  him,  and 
that  then  he  shall  be  sent  into  the  wilderness 
by  a  special  messenger  and  turned  loose  (cf.  Lv 
lg8.  10.  26)      Tne  goat  jg  jjj  reaiity  a  sacrifice  to 

Azazel.  The  ritual  of  this  chapter  is  clearly  a 
survival  from  pre-exilic  days.  It  is  also  clear  that 
Azazel  was  a  wilderness  demon,  and  probably  the 
sacrifice  was  originally  offered  to  him  to  propitiate 
him.  It  is,  accordingly,  a  survival  from  a  kind 
of  worship  of  fear.  The  name  'Aza'zel  signifies 
'  entire  removal.' 

Another  class  of  demons  were  se'Jrim,  lit.  '  hairy 
ones'  (RV  'satyrs';  marg.  'he-goats'),  who,  like 
Azazel,  were  thought  to  inhabit  wastes  and  ruins. 
Is  34",  in  a  picture  of  the  future  desolation  of 
Edom,  says  that  '  satyr  shall  call  to  his  fellow 
there ' ;  and  Is  1321,  an  exilic  passage,  in  portraying 
the  desolation  of  Babylon,  declares  that  '  satyrs 
shall  dance  there.'  Just  as  the  Arabs  degraded 
the  gods  of  the  heathen  to  jinn  and  attributed  to 
them  some  of  the  hairy  characteristics  of  animals, 
so  these  satyrs  appear  to  have  been  originally 
heathen  deities  (cf.  W.  R.  Smith,  Rel.  Sem.2  120 ff.). 
It  is  for  this  reason  that  Lv  177  prohibits,  for  the 
future,  sacrifice  to  satyrs,  implying  in  the  state- 
ment that  they  had  been  the  recipients  of  sacrifices 
in  the  past.  Similarly  2  Ch  ll16,  in  reproducing 
1  K  1231 — the  statement  concerning  Jeroboam's 
arrangements  of  priests  for  the  high  places — 
amplifies  it  by  saying  that  he  appointed  'priests 
for  the  satyrs  and  calves  which  he  had  made.' 

The  shedim  which  are  mentioned  in  Dt  32"  are 
once  referred  to  in  a  post-exilic  canonical  writing, 
Ps  10637,  where  shedim  is  a  synonym  for  demons. 


The  word  really,  as  the  parallelism  shows,  refers 
to  the  heathen  deities  of  the  Canaanites,  whom 
some  of  the  post-exilic  writers  made  satyrs,  as 
just  noted.  That  it  was  the  intention  of  the 
Psalmist  to  call  them  demons  here  is  confirmed  by 
the  fact  that  in  the  Mishna  and  Talmud  shed  is 
the  root  used  to  designate  demons  in  general  (cf. 
Jastrow,  Diet.  p.  1558a). 

Is  34"  mentions  Lilith  (RV  'night-monster')  in 
connexion  with  satyrs.  It  is  probable  that  the 
name  is  connected  with  the  Heb.  root  for  'night,' 
and  that  Lilith  was  a  night-monster  or  demon 
which  was  thought  to  lurk  in  desolate  places. 

The  '  horse-leech '  ('aMqa)  of  Pr  3015  was  perhaps 
a  demon.  While  there  was  a  large  leech  to 
which  the  name  was  applied,  it  was  also  regarded 
by  the  Jews  of  later  time  as  the  name  of  a  demon. 
This  seems  to  be  the  case  in  the  Targ.  to  Ps  129, 
which  says  :  '  The  wicked  go  round  in  circles  like 
'alUqd,  who  suck  the  blood  of  men.' 

In  Ca  27  36  the  Shunammite  adjures  the  daughters 
of  Jerusalem  '  by  the  roes  and  hinds  of  the  field.' 
These  are  here  probably  not  simple  animals,  but 
faun-like  spirits  by  whom,  as  by  other  supernatural 
beings,  adjurations  could  be  made. 

In  four  passages  (all  exilic  or  post-exilic)  a  great 
demon  or  dragon  called  Rahab  appears.  She  was 
surrounded  by  a  host  of  helpers,  but  after- a  severe 
struggle  she  and  her  helpers  were  overcome  by 
Jahweh.  The  passages  are :  Is  519  '  Art  not 
thou  he  who  hewed  Rahab  in  pieces,  who  pierced 
through  the  dragon?';  Job  9"  'The  helpers  of 
Rahab  do  stoop  under  him ;  how  much  less  shall 
I  answer  him?';  Job  2612-  ls  'He  quelleth  the 
sea  with  his  power,  by  his  understanding  he 
smiteth  through  Rahab  ;  by  his  breath  the  heavens 
are  bright,'  etc.;  Ps  8910  'Thou  hast  broken 
Rahab  in  pieces  as  one  that  is  slain ;  thou  hast 
scattered  thine  enemies  with  the  arm  of  thy 
strength.'  It  has  long  been  recognized  (see  the 
writer's  art.  'Tiamat'  in  JA  OS  xv.  [1890])  that 
Rahab  in  those  passages  is  simply  another  name 
for  the  Bab.  primeval  sea-monster  Tiamat.  She  is, 
accordingly,  here  not  a  native  Heb.  demon.  For 
the  original  picture  of  her  and  her  helpers,  see 
L.  W.  King,  Seven  Tablets  of  Creation,  London, 
1902,  Tablets  ii.  and  iv.  Although  Rahab  is  not 
native  to  Heb.  soil,  she  plays  a  considerable  part 
in  post-exilic  thought.  Jahweh  was  naturally 
substituted  for  Marduk  in  the  story  circulated 
among  the  Hebrews,  and  His  worshippers  magni- 
fied His  power  as  they  thought  of  the  might  of 
this  terrible  dragon  of  a  demon. 

In  at  least  two  passages  this  primitive  Bab. 
monster  was  known  among  the  Hebrews  as 
Leviathan.  In  Job  38  Leviathan  is  evidently  a 
mythical  dragon  capable  of  darkening  the  day, 
while  in  Ps  74"  we  read,  '  Thou  brakest  the 
heads  of  Leviathan  in  pieces,'  and  vv.16-  "  go  on 
to  speak  of  the  creation  of  the  sun,  the  fixing  of 
earth's  bounds,  and  the  making  of  summer  and 
winter.  In  the  psalm,  therefore,  we  clearly  have 
a  reference  to  the  Bab.  Creation  Epic,  and  it  is 
probable  that  the  passage  from  Job  refers  to  the 
same  monster.  In  Job  41  the  crocodile  is  described 
under  the  name  Leviathan,  but  in  vv.19'21  the 
description  of  the  natural  animal  is  mingled  with 
elements  drawn  from  a  mythical  fire-breathing 
dragon.  It  is  probable,  therefore,  that  Leviathan, 
like  Rahab,  was  the  Bab.  Tiamat  under  another 
name. 

III.  In  Apocryphal  literature.— "While 
but  few  individual  demons  can  be  traced  in  the 
canonical  literature,  the  apocryphal  writings  bear 
witness  to  the  fact  that  the  popular  thought 
abounded  with  them.  In  the  Apocalyptic  writings 
of  the  Jews,  composed  prior  to  a.d.  100,  all  the 
main   features  of   belief   in   spirits,   angels,   and 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Hebrew) 


599 


demons  which  appear  in  the  canonical  literature 
were  continued  and  heightened.  There  is,  how- 
ever, a  great  difference  between  them  in  this 
respect.  Some  of  them,  like  Sirach  and  Macca- 
bees, make  almost  no  reference  to  angels.  Sirach 
mentions  only  the  angel  that  destroyed  the 
Assyrian  army  (4S21),  the  writer  of  1  Mac  mentions 
angels  only  in  referring  to  this  event  (741),  while 
the  author  of  2  Mac  refers  to  them  only  in  saying 
that  the  Jews  of  the  Maccabsean  time  prayed  that 
an  angel  might  be  sent  to  smite  the  Greeks,  as 
one  was  sent  to  smite  the  Assyrians  (cf.  II6  15s2'-). 
Similarly,  the  Wisdom  of  Solomon  makes  no 
reference  to  angels  except  that  in  describing  the 
Exodus  it  declares  that  the  word  of  God  was  an 
:>ctive  angel  of  vengeance  (cf.  Wis  1816).  In  some 
of  the  Enoch  apocalypses,  on  the  other  hand, 
belief  in  angelic  and  demoniacal  agency  is  carried 
to  great  length.  This  is  especially  true  of  the 
oldest  Enoch  apocalypse  (Eth.  En.  1-36),  of  the 
Parables  (Eth.  En.  37-71),  and  of  the  Slavonic 
Enoch.  Other  works  make  a  more  moderate  use 
of  this  belief,  although  it  clearly  underlies  all 
their  thinking.  This  is  true  of  Tobit,  the  Testa- 
ments of  the  Twelve  Patriarchs,  the  Apocalypse  of 
Baruch,  the  Greek  additions  to  Daniel,  2  Esdras, 
and  the  Book  of  Jubilees.  The  beliefs  continued 
and  were  in  some  respects  intensified,  but,  in 
proportion  as  the  writers  came  under  the  sway  of 
Greek  rationalistic  thought,  they  ceased  to  feel 
the  need  for  such  supernatural  agencies.  The 
author  of  Jubilees,  in  re-telling  the  story  of 
Genesis,  employs  angels  only  where  they  appear 
in  that  book. 

1.  In  certain  writers  the  old  tendency  to  attri- 
bute a  spirit  to  everything  still  manifests  itself. 
The  author  of  the  Enoch  Parables  speaks  of  a 
spirit  of  the  sea,  of  hoar-frost,  of  hail,  of  snow,  of 
fog,  of  dew,  and  of  rain  (Eth.  En.  6017"21),  while 
his  favourite  title  for  God  is  '  Lord  of  spirits ' 
(382,  *  3912  and  passim).  The  author  of  Jubilees 
speaks  of  the  spirits  of  fire,  wind,  darkness,  hail, 
snow,  frost,  thunder,  cold  and  heat,  winter  and 
summer  (Jub  21),  but  he  calls  them  angels  at  the 
same  time,  and  he  also  terms  the  '  watchers '  (an 
older  name  for  angels)  the  '  fathers  of  spirits ' 
(106).  These  two  agree  in  making  spirits  of  the 
phenomena  of  Nature.  In  a  different  vein  from 
those,  the  Testaments  of  the  Twelve  Patriarchs 
make  spirits  of  man's  immoral  tendencies.  Those 
spirits  are  in  reality  demons,  and  are  under  the 
direction  of  Beliar,  the  prince  of  demons  (see  art. 
Belial).  Thus,  we  are  told  that  there  are  seven 
spirits  of  deceit  (Reuben  21).  These  seven  are 
said  to  be  the  spirit  of  fornication,  of  insatiable- 
ness  (resident  in  the  belly),  of  fighting  (resident  in 
the  liver  and  gall),  of  obsequiousness  and  chicanery, 
of  pride,  of  lying  and  fraud,  and  of  injustice  with 
which  are  thefts  and  acts  of  rapacity  (cf.  Reuben 
3s"6,  Simeon  67,  Judah  201,  Dan  5*,  Gad  47).  Later 
additions  make  the  senses  and  sleep  spirits  of 
wickedness  (Reuben  23  31).  The  function  of  these 
spirits  was  to  lead  men  into  various  sins,  and, 
after  having  done  so,  to  take  vengeance  on  them 
(Levi  32).  The  evil  spirit  which  a  man  had  served 
was  said  to  await  his  soul  as  it  left  his  body  at 
death  in  order  to  torment  it  (Asher  65).  In  most 
of  the  Apocryphal  books  the  spirits  have  passed 
over  either  into  angels  or  into  demons. 

2.  Through  literary  influence  there  is  a  slight 
survival  of  the  Cherubim  and  Seraphim  of  an  earlier 
time.  They,  together  with  the  Ophanim  (serpent- 
beings  developed  out  of  the  original  Seraphim), 
are  said  to  be  holy  angels  who  praise  God  (Eth. 
En.  6110  71',  Slav.  En.  201  211) ;  but  these  beings 
play  no  important  part  in  the  thought  of  the 
period. 

3.  It  is  far  otherwise  with  the  angels,  who  are 


declared  to  be  innumerable  (Apoc.  Bar.  59").  This 
clearly  represents  the  view  of  several  of  these 
writers.  Thus  the  author  of  the  Enoch  Parables 
declares  that  the  Most  High  is  accompanied  by 
1000x1000  and  10000x10000  angels  (Eth.  En.  60' 
7113).  Angels  were  thought  to  be  the  agency  by 
which  everything  was  performed.  Thus,  it  is  said 
that  myriads  of  angels  accompany  the  sun  on  his 
course  (Slav.  En.  II4-  M),  and  that  400  take  the 
sun's  crown  to  God  at  sunset,  and  return  it  to  the 
sun  in  the  morning  (142-3).  How  vast  must  have 
been,  then,  the  number  of  all  the  angels  ! 

These  numerous  angelic  hosts  were  believed  to 
be  divided  into  ranks.  Distinguished  from  the 
common  mass,  the  archangels  commanded  and 
directed  others.  This  division  appears  most  clearly 
in  the  evil  angels  or  demons,  a  long  list  of  whose 
leaders  is  given  in  the  earliest  Enoch  apocalypse 
and  in  the  Enoch  parables  (cf.  Eth.  En.  67  and  692). 
This  list  will  be  further  considered  in  discussing 
demons  below.  The  good  angels  had  similar  chief- 
tains, of  whom  Gabriel  was  one  (Slav.  En.  213).  But, 
apart  from  the  archangels,  the  angelic  hosts  were 
thought  to  be  divided  into  several  ranks.  It  is 
said  in  Slav.  En.  203  that,  as  the  Lord  sat  on  His 
throne,  the  heavenly  hosts  stood  on  the  ten  steps 
of  it  according  to  their  rank.  This  implies  that 
there  were  numerous  gradations  of  rank.  Four 
angels  were  called  'angels  of  the  throne.'  They 
were  Michael,  Gabriel,  Uriel,  and  Raphael  (Eth. 
En.  91  402  and  Sib.  Or.  ii.  215),  though  two  passages 
(409  719)  substitute  Phanuel  (i.e.  Penuel)  for  Uriel. 
Just  as  human  hosts  had  human  commanders,  so 
the  archangels  were  the  commanders  of  the  others. 
Thus  in  the  Testament  of  Levi  36ff-  the  angel  of  the 
Presence  is  counted  an  archangel,  to  whom  angels 
below  make  an  announcement  of  what  is  tran- 
spiring. This  development  of  the  angelic  hosts 
into  ranks  was  to  some  extent  reflected  in  the 
canonical  literature,  and  its  later  development 
may  have  been  influenced  by  contact  with  Persian 
thought. 

As  to  the  nature  of  angels,  the  conception  was  not 
uniform.  At  first  they  were  considered  a  kind  of 
supernatural  men  :  thus,  in  all  the  books  that  speak 
of  them,  they  are  frequently  called  '  men '  (see,  e.g., 
Slav.  En.  1-7).  They  are,  like  men,  said  to  possess 
bodies  and  spirits  (Eth.  En.  67s).  They  intermarried 
at  one  time  with  human  women  (Eth.  En.  71,  Slav. 
En.  184).  Enoch  after  translation  became  ar.  angel 
(Slav.  En.  22),  showing  that  they  were  considered 
in  many  ways  kindred  to  men.  This  view  is  a  sur- 
vival of  the  old  conception  reflected  in  Gn  62"4. 
Gradually  another  view  developed,  according  to 
which  the  constitution  of  angels  was  quite  different 
from  that  of  men.  They  are,  accordingly,  said  to 
have  a  nature  like  that  of  fire  (Slav.  En.  291-  3),  and 
to  have  been  made  at  the  beginning  of  flame  and 
fire  (Apoc.  Bar.  216) ;  their  splendour  is  said  to  be 
equal  to  that  of  the  stars  (519).  This  view  was,  in 
some  cases  where  tradition  perpetuated  the  crasser 
view,  blended  with  the  other.  Thus  Enoch  was 
thought  to  have  been  put  through  a  process  of 
purification  and  glorification  before  he  became  an 
angel  (Slav.  En.  22) ;  and  later,  when  he  was  per- 
mitted to  return  to  the  earth  for  thirty  days,  an 
angel  chilled  his  face,  apparently  to  dim  the  lustre 
of  its  angelic  glory,  before  he  descended  to  mingle 
with  men  (cf.  Slav.  En.  362  371  381).  The  forces  of 
Nature  were  at  times  regarded  as  angels.  Thus 
frost,  hail,  and  fog  are  so  designated  in  Eth.  En. 
6017"19,  and  the  author  of  Jubilees  calls  these  and 
similar  forces  of  Nature  indifferently  'spirits'  and 
'  angels '  (Jub.  21).  At  the  same  time  angels  were 
thought  to  have  definite  limitations.  They  were 
not  able  to  hinder  the  work  of  God  (Eth.  En.  41°) ; 
they  were  ignorant  of  their  own  origin  (Slav.  En. 
243) ;  fallen  angels  could  not  see  the  glory  of  God 


600 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Hebrew) 


(Eth.  En.  1421,  Slav.  En.  24s),  and  Enoch,  a  man, 
interceded  for  them  (Eth.  En.  152). 

The  whole  course  of  Nature  was  thought  to  be 
carried  on  by  angelic  agency.  Myriads  of  angels 
attend  the  sun  (Slav.  En.  14),  they  regulate  the 
courses  of  the  stars  (ch.  19),  they  guard  the  habita- 
tions of  snow  (ch.  5),  and  keep  the  treasuries  of  oil 
(ch.  6).  Spirits  or  angels  control  the  lightning, 
causing  a  pause  before  the  thunder  comes  (Eth.  En. 
gQi3-i5j  They  control  the  workings  of  frost,  hail, 
mist,  dew,  and  rain ;  they  preside  over  the  treas- 
uries of  these  (vv.16-2-).  Activities  of  many  other 
kinds  were  attributed  to  angels.  They  kept  the 
garden  of  Eden  (Slav.  En.  8) ;  fiery  angels  now 
surround  Paradise  (301) ;  and  angels  built  the  ark 
(Eth.  En.  67-). 

One  of  the  important  functions  of  angels  was  to 
guide  and  instruct  the  great  apocalyptic  seers.  The 
angel  of  peace  went  with  Enoch  (Eth.  En.  40s  433), 
and  conducted  him  to  the  first  heaven  (Slav.  En.  3), 
while  Gabriel  later  took  Enoch  to  God  (202).  An 
angel  talked  to  Ezra  (2  Es  2"-  «•  *  51B  71) ;  and  Uriel 
was  sent  to  Ezra  (41-  '^  516-  20  71  102S- 29).  An  angel 
revealed  to  Jacob  Reuben's  sin  with  Bilhah  (Test. 
of  Keuben  316) ;  an  angel  invited  Levi  to  heaven,  and 
showed  him  the  secret  of  heaven  to  prepare  him  for 
the  priesthood  (Test,  of  Levi  26  5l) ;  an  angel  in- 
formed the  patriarch  Judah  that  he  should  be  king 
of  Jacob  (Test,  of  Judah  216),  and  announced  to 
Jacob  the  birth  of  Rachel's  children  (Test,  of 
Issachar  2l).  The  angel  of  peace  guides  the  soul 
of  a  good  man  at  death  (Test,  of  Benj.  61).  Angels, 
called  '  watchers,'  came  to  earth  in  the  days  of  Jared 
to  teach  men  ( Jub.  416) ;  an  angel,  spoken  of  as  a 
'holy  one,'  called  to  Hagar  (1714) ;  angels  went  up 
and  down  the  ladder  of  Jacob's  dream  (2721) ;  angels 
smote  the  flames  of  fire  for  the  three  children  (v.26). 
An  angel  told  Habakkuk  to  carry  his  dinner  to 
Daniel  who  was  in  the  lion's  den  at  Babylon,  and 
took  Habakkuk  by  the  hair  and  transported  him 
from  Judaea  to  Babylon  for  this  purpose  and  back 
again  (Bel  vv.34"39).  The  angel  Raphael  came  to 
heal  Tobit's  blindness  (To  3"),  accompanied  the 
young  Tobias  (54"6, 21),  instructed  him  how  to  drive 
an  evil  spirit  away  (6.  82ff-),  was  sent  by  Tobias  to 
Media  after  money  (9lff-),  opened  Tobit's  eyes 
(112ff.  7ff.))  amj  was  offered  half  the  money  (125). 
Angels  are  portrayed  as  pitiful ;  they  were  in 
anguish  when  Zion  was  delivered  to  destruction 
(Apoc.  Bar.  672) ;  and  they  are  also  represented  as 
intercessors  (Test,  of  Levi  35  57,  Test,  of  Dan  62). 
It  thus  appears  that  all  possible  helpful  agencies 
were  attributed  to  them. 

As  angels  were  God's  agents  for  blessing,  so  they 
were  His  instruments  of  chastisement.  In  the 
rime  of  the  Maccabees,  prayer  was  offered  that  an 
angel  might  destroy  the  Greeks,  as  an  angel  de- 
stroyed the  Assyrians  (2  Mac  ll6  1522).  Enoch  in 
the  place  of  punishment  saw  angels  administering 
torture  (Slav.  En.  102ff-).  It  was  believed  that  on 
the  Day  of  Judgment  an  angel  would  be  appointed 
avenger  (Assump.  Mos.  102).  An  angel  of  God  is 
said  to  have  received  orders  to  cut  a  sinner  in  twain 
(Sus  vv.M-  69).  The  word  of  God  was  said  to  have 
been  an  active  angel  of  vengeance  on  the  night  of 
the  Exodus  (Wis  1816),  and  two  angels  were  believed 
to  have  once  descended  from  heaven  to  bind  a  hostile 
king  (3  Mac  618).  When  Jerusalem  was  destroyed, 
four  angels  stood  at  its  four  corners  with  lamps  and 
accomplished  its  ruin  (Apoc.  Bar  71  81).  There 
was  also  an  angel  whose  chief  function  was  to  bring 
death  (2123).  Whatever,  therefore,  needed  to  be 
accomplished,  whether  good  or  bad,  there  was  an 
angel  to  do  it. 

The  tendency  observable  in  a  slight  degree  in  the 
canonical  literature  to  give  the  angels  individual 
names  appears  in  a  greatly  heightened  form  in  the 
Apocryphal  literature. 


4.  The  conceptions  of  demons  which  appear  in 
the  Apocryphal  literature  are  of  four  distinct  types. 
Two  of  these  regard  the  arch-demons  as  fallen 
angels,  but  in  one  type  this  angelic  genesis  of  demons 
is  much  more  prominent  than  in  the  other,  (a)  In 
the  canonical  literature  discussed  above,  Satan  was 
regarded  as  once  of  the  number  of  the  Divine  beings 
who  formed  Jahweh's  court  (Job  1.  2).  The  steps 
by  which  in  the  canonical  literature  he  became  the 
great  opposer  of  good  have  already  been  sketched. 
In  one  type  of  Apocryphal  thought  he  became  the 
arch-demon,  who  tempted  man  and  led  him  astray 
(see  Wis  224  and  Slav.  En.  331).  These  writers 
simply  took  Satan  over  from  the  canonical  litera- 
ture, and  his  semi-Divine  or  angelic  origin  appar- 
ently was  forgotten.  The  author  of  Wisdom  moved 
in  an  atmosphere  of  philosophic  thought  in  which 
neither  angels  nor  demons  played  any  considerable 
part.  The  author  of  Slavonic  Enoch,  though  he 
makes  much  of  angels,  has  almost  nothing  to  say 
of  demons.  He  probably  believed  in  them,  but  the 
interest  of  his  narrative  led  him  to  place  the  em- 
phasis elsewhere.  These  writers  call  Satan  by  the 
Gr.  tr.  of  his  name,  diabolos,  or  'devil. '  They 
identify  him  with  the  serpent  of  Eden,  and  account 
for  the  origin  of  sin  by  his  agency  in  leading  man 
astray. 

(6)  The  authors  of  Eth.  En.  1-36  and  of  the  Enoch 
Parables  (En.  37-71)  represent  a  different  type, 
being  much  more  keenly  interested  in  tracing  the 
origin  of  demons  and  of  evil.  Instead  of  taking 
one  arch-demon  from  the  canonical  literature,  they 
go  back  to  the  narrative  of  Gn  62-4,  and  account  for 
the  origin  of  demons  and  of  sin  by  elaborating  the 
hint  there  given.  Persian  dualism  had  sufficiently 
influenced  their  thought,  so  that  matter  was  to 
them  corrupt.  That  angels  should  come  to  earth 
and  have  connexion  with  human  wives  implied, 
they  thought,  a  previous  rebellion  and  sin  on  the 
part  of  the  angels.  The  hint  which  supplied  the 
point  of  departure  for  this  view  was  probably  given 
by  the  story  of  Satan  in  the  prologue  of  the  Book 
of  Job.  Those  angelic  hosts  who  sinned  were 
numerous,  but  they  were  led  by  certain  archangels, 
whose  names  are  given  somewhat  differently  by  the 
two  writers.  These  with  their  followers  landed  on 
Mount  Hermon,  and,  after  satisfying  themselves 
with  human  wives,  taught  men  various  sins,  some 
teaching  one  and  some  another.  One  taught  en- 
chantments, another  astrology,  another  the  making 
of  swords,  another  the  art  of  abortion,  and  another 
that  of  writing.  The  one  who  taught  the  use  of 
coats  of  mail  and  of  swords  also  seduced  Eve  (cf. 
Eth.  En.  6-9  and  69).  These  writers,  like  the 
author  of  the  J  document  of  the  Hexateuch,  re- 
garded the  arts  of  civilization  as  having  had  a 
common  origin  with  sin.  Among  the  names  of 
these  arch-demons  the  canonical  names  of  Satan 
and  Azazel  are  found,  but  they  play  a  comparatively 
small  part.  The  r61e  of  Azazel  is  more  prominent 
than  that  of  Satan.  The  larger  number  of  these 
angels  (and  to  them  are  attributed  the  most  hurtful 
influences)  are  called  by  names  not  found  in  the 
canonical  literature.  It  appears  from  these  names 
that  many  of  them  were  called  by  names  appropriate 
to  angels.  The  degradation  of  the  names  to  demons 
was  in  accord  with  the  theory  that  they  were  fallen 
angels.  In  one  passage  (Eth.  En.  216)  they  are 
identified  with  the  stars.  Having  introduced  sin 
into  the  world,  those  fallen  angels  were  regarded 
as  the  presiding  geniuses  of  various  forms  of  trans- 
gression and  corruption.  They  were  themselves, 
however,  thought  to  be  already  undergoing  punish- 
ment. They  were  bound  and  were  being  tormented 
by  a  great  fire  (Eth.  En.  215"10  541-6). 

(c)  The  Book  of  Tobit  represents  a  third  type  of 
thought.  Init  but onedemon  appears, — Asmodaeus, 
— and  he  is  clearly,  as  his  name  implies,  of  Persian 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Indian) 


601 


origin  (but  see  Ginzberg,  JE  ii.  217-219).  The 
author  of  this  book  had  so  come  under  Persian  in- 
fluence, probably  by  living  in  the  East,  that  its 
demonology  ordemonological  vocabulary  influenced 
him  more  than  did  that  of  the  canonical,  or  even 
the  apocryphal,  writings  of  his  people. 

(d)  A  fourth  type  of  thought  is  represented  by 
the  Testaments  of  the  Twelve  Patriarchs  and  the 
Ascension  of  Isaiah.  In  these  works  the  demon- 
ology, while  very  real  and  all-pervasive,  is  made  up 
in  a  rational  way,  and  such  contact  as  it  has  with 
canonical  thought  is  at  quite  a  different  point  of 
that  thought.  As  mentioned  above,  the  world  is 
thought  to  be  pervaded  by  evil  spirits,  but  these 
are  simply  the  personification  of  the  evil  pro- 
pensities of  man — jealousy,  lust,  pride,  chicanery, 
injustice,  rapacity,  etc.  Writers  who  thus  made 
evil  spirits  of  the  sinful  tendencies  of  men  about 
them  moved  in  a  somewhat  different  realm  of 
thought  from  those  who  connected  these  evil  spirits 
with  the  story  of  Gn  62"1  and  gave  to  them  orthodox 
Hebrew  names.  Over  this  mass  of  evil  spirits  the 
two  writers  under  consideration  believed  that  Beliar 
presided.  Beliar  to  them  takes  the  place  of  the 
devil  in  Wisdom  and  the  Secrets  of  Enoch,  of 
Semyaza  in  the  other  Enoch  books,  and  of  As- 
modfeus  in  Tobit.  Beliar  is  a  form  of  Belial  (see 
vol.  ii.  p.  458bf.).  Belial  had  been  used  by  Nahum 
(11B)  as  the  name  of  a  great  evil  power.  Possibly 
Belial  was  an  old  name  for  Sheol,  though  that  is 
uncertain.  It  it  were  so,  it  is  easy  to  see  why  these 
writers  took  it  as  the  name  of  the  prince  and  leader 
of  all  evil  and  destructive  spirits. 

To  most  Jews  of  the  period,  as  indeed  to  most 
men  of  that  time,  the  world  was  full  of  supernatural 
agencies.  As  there  were  angels  to  accomplish  every 
good  act,  so  there  were  demons  or  evil  spirits  to 
perpetrate  every  evil  deed  or  to  prompt  every  sinful 
impulse.  Some  of  the  writers,  however,  manifest 
no  trace  of  this  demonology  ;  such  are  Ben  Sira  and 
the  authors  of  the  Books  of  Maccabees.  The  sub- 
ject-matter of  Sirach  as  well  as  the  philosophical 
point  of  view  of  its  author  excluded  any  reference 
to  them,  while  the  author  of  1  Mac  had  probably 
come  so  far  under  the  influence  of  incipient  Saddu- 
ceeism  that  demons  had  little  or  no  place  in  his 
thought.  To  most  men,  however,  demons  in  one 
form  or  another  were  very  real,  and  played  an  im- 
portant part  in  life. 

Literature. — C.  H.  Toy,  Judaism  and  Christianity v  London, 
1890,  pp.  154-170  ;  W.  R.  Smith,  Rel.  Sem.\  do.  1894,  pp.  119  ff., 
133,  168,  172 ;  H.  Gunkel,  Schopfung  unci  Chaos,  Gbttingen, 
1896,  pp.  294-309;  A.  Dillmann,  Handbuch  der  AT  Theol., 
Leipzig,  1896,  passim;  M.  J.  Lagrange, Etudes sur  lesrel.  setm.?, 
Paris,  1906,  p.  223  ff. ;  C.  H.  Piepenbring,  Theol.  of  the  OT, 
New  York,  1893,  pp.  163  ff.,  264  ff.  ;  B.  Stade,  Bibl.  Theol.  des 
AT,  TObingen,  1905,  passim  ;  W.  E.  Addis,  Heb.  Rel.,  London, 
1906,  pp.  68  ff.,  259;  K.  Marti,  Rel.  of  the  OT,  London,  1907; 
G.  B.  Gray,  art.  'Angel,'  in  EBi ;  G.  B.  Gray  and  T.  K. 
Cheyne,  '  Demons,'  ib.  ;  G.  B.  Gray  and  J.  Massie,  'Satan,' 
ib.  ;  A.  B.  Davidson,  '  Angel,'  in  HDB ;  O.  C.  Whitehouse, 
'Demons,'  ib. ;  L.  Blau  and  K.  Kohler,  '  Angelology,'  in  JE; 
L.  Ginzberg,  '  Asmodeus,'  ib.  ;  K.  Kohler,  'Demonology,'  ib.; 
L.  Blau,  'Satan,'  ib.  GEORGE  A.  BARTON. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Indian).— i.  Pre- 
valence of  the  belief  in  spirit  influence. — The 
people  of  India,  particularly  the  forest  tribes  and 
the  lower  castes,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  or 
burning-ground,  are  oppressed  with  a  feeling  best 
described  as  demonophobia — the  belief  that  they 
are  haunted  by  evil  spirits  of  all  kinds,  some 
malignant  fiends,  some  mischievous  elves,  to  whose 
agency  are  attributed  all  kinds  of  sickness  and  mis- 
fortune. Their  worship  is  a  worship  of  fear,  the 
higher  gods,  particularly  in  the  opinion  of  the  less 
intelligent  classes,  being  regarded  as  otiose  and  in- 
different to  the  evils  which  attack  the  human  race, 
while  demons  are  habitually  active  and  malignant. 

Among  the  Tharus  of  the  Himalayan  Tarai,  '  the  bhuts,  or 
demons  lurking  in  the  forest  trees,  especially  the  weird  cotton 


tree  (Biunbax  hepiaphylluin),  and  the  prets,  or  spirits  of  the 
dead,  lead  them  a  very  miserable  life.  When  the  last  ray  of 
light  leaves  the  forest,  and  the  darkness  settles  down  upon  theii 
villages,  all  the  Tharus,  men,  women,  and  children,  huddle 
together  inside  their  fast-closed  huts,  in  mortal  dread  of  those 
ghostly  beings,  more  savage  and  cruel  than  the  leopards,  tigers, 
and  bears  that  now  prowl  about  for  their  prey.  Only  the 
terrible  cry  of  "  Fire"  will  bring  these  poor  fear-stricken  creatures 
to  open  the  doors  and  remove  the  heavy  barriers  from  their 
huts  at  night.  And  even  in  the  daytime,  amid  the  hum  of 
human  life,  the  songs  of  the  birds,  and  the  lowing  of  the  cattle, 
no  Tharu,  man,  woman,  or  child,  would  ever  venture  along  a 
forest-line,  without  casting  a  leaf,  a  branch,  or  a  piece  of  old 
rag,  upon  the  bansati  [Skr.  vanaspati,  "  king  of  the  woods"], 
formed  at  the  entrance  of  deep  woods,  to  save  them  from  the 
many  diseases  and  accidents  the  goblins  and  malignant  spirits 
of  the  forests  can  bring  upon  and  cause  them  '  (S.  Knowles,  The 
Gospel  in  Gonda,  1889,  p.  214). 

In  S.  India,  where  this  belief  iB  even  more  widely  spread 
than  in  the  N.,  'every  village  is  believed  by  the  people  to  be 
surrounded  by  evil  spirits,  who  are  always  on  the  watch  to 
inflict  disease  and  misfortunes  of  all  kinds  on  the  unhappy 
villagers.  They  lurk  everywhere,  on  the  tops  of  palm3'ra  trees, 
in  caves  and  rocks,  in  ravines  and  chasms.  They  fly  about  in 
the  air,  like  birds  of  prey,  ready  to  pounce  down  on  any  unpro- 
tected victim,  and  the  Indian  villagers  pass  through  life  in 
constant  dread  of  these  invisible  enemies.  So  they  turn  for 
protection  to  the  guardian  deities  of  their  village1,  whose 
function  it  is  to  ward  off  these  evil  spirits  and  protect  the 
village  from  epidemics  of  cholera,  smallpox,  or  fever;  from 
cattle  disease,  failure  of  crops,  childlessness,  fires,  and  all  the 
manifold  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to  in  an  Indian  village  '  (Bishop 
H.  Whitehead,  Bull,  lladr.  Mus.  v.  126 !.).  Traill,  who  took 
over  charge  of  Kitmaun  in  1820,  reported  that  the  population 
was  divided  into  two  classes,  human  beings  and  ghosts  (E.  S. 
Oakley,  Holy  Himalaya,  1905,  p.  217  f.).  For  other  testimony 
to  the  same  effect,  see  S.  Mateer,  The  Land  of  Charity,  207  ff. ; 
Sir  \V.  Sleeman,  Rambles  and  Recollections,  1893,  i.  268  ff.  ; 
Bishop  R.  Caldwell,  *  The  Tinnevelly  Shanars,'  in  B.  Ziegenbalg, 
Genealogy  of  the  S.  Indian  Gods,  1869,  p.  166  ff.  This  feeling 
of  pessimism,  due  partly  to  racial  idiosyncrasy,  partly  to  the 
rigour  of  their  environment,  has  prevailed  among  the  races  of 
India  from  the  very  earliest  times  (see  H.  Oldenberg,  Rel.  des 
Veda,  1894,  p.  39  f. ;  Atharvaveda,  SBE  xlii.  passim). 

2.  Origin  and  character  of  the  cult  of  demons 
and  evil  spirits. — Demonolatry,  the  worship  of 
devils  or  demons,  is  a  form  of  belief  in  its  origin 
independent  of  Brahmanism  or  the  orthodox  form 
of  Hinduism,  though  the  latter  has  in  many  cases 
annexed  and  absorbed  it  (see  §  12).  The  cultus  is 
a  true  form  of  worship,  and  here  the  distinction 
between  '  deity '  and  '  demon '  is  unmeaning,  the 
latter  being,  as  in  the  case  of  the  orthodox  gods, 
controlled  by  true  worship  or  propitiation.  But, 
like  similar  forms  of  popular  belief  in  other  parts 
of  the  world,  it  is  amorphous  and  ill-organized, 
possessing  little  or  no  sacred  literature  and  no 
established  priesthood.  The  most  obvious  dis- 
tinction is  between  non-human  and  human  spirits. 

(a)  Non-human  spirits  or  fiends  are  '  endowed 
with  superhuman  powers,  and  possess  material 
bodies  of  various  kinds,  which  they  can  change  as 
they  list,  and  which  are  subject  to  destruction. 
As  free  agents,  they  can  choose  between  good  and 
evil,  but  a  disposition  towards  evil  preponderates 
in  their  character'  (G.  Oppert,  Original  Inhabitants 
of  Bharatavarsa  or  India,  515  ff.).  The  so-called 
Asuras,  Danavas,  Daityas,  and  Raksasas  belong  to 
this  group,  '  all  personations  of  the  hostile  powers 
of  Nature,  or  of  mighty  human  foes,  both  which 
have  been  eventually  converted  into  superhuman 
beings.'  This  group  as  a  whole  seems  to  be  de- 
rived from  pre-Animistic  beliefs,  the  worship  or 
dread  of  'powers'  {numina,  not  nomina),  the  vague 
impersonations  of  the  terror  of  night,  hill,  cave,  or 
forest.  They  appear  in  the  Vedas  as  malevolent 
beings  hostile  to  the  orthodox  gods  (A.  Macdonell, 
Vedic  Mythology,  1897,  p.  156 ff).  Max  Muller 
and  J.  Muir  agree  in  denying  that  all  these  Vedic 
evil  spirits  were  borrowed  by  the  Aryans  from  the 
aborigines  of  India  (Contributions  to  the  Science  of 
Mythology,  1897,  i.  212 ;  Original  Sanskrit  Texts, 
1860,  pt.  ii.  380  ff. ).  It  is  safer  to  believe  that  among 
both  Aryans  and  non- Aryans  they  were  the  result 
of  pre-Animistic  beliefs  common  to  both  races. 
At  the  same  time,  it  is  probable  that  the  Aryan 
view  of  the  demon  world  was  co'-">red  by  their 
association  with  the  indigenous  races. 


602 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Indian) 


'  The  black  complexion,  ferocious  aspect,  barbarous  habits, 
rude  speech,  and  savage  yells  of  the  Dasyus,  and  the  sudden 
and  furtive  attacks  which,  under  cover  of  the  impenetrable 
woods,  and  the  obscurity  of  night,  they  would  make  on  the 
encampment  of  the  Aryas,  might  naturally  lead  the  latter  to 
speak  of  them,  in  the  highly  figurative  language  of  an  imagina- 
tive people  in  the  first  stage  of  civilisation,  as  ghosts  or  demons ; 
or  even  to  conceive  of  their  hidden  assailants  as  possessed  of 
magical  and  superhuman  powers,  or  as  headed  by  devils.  .  .  . 
At  length  the  further  advance  of  the  Aryas  would  either  drive 
the  Dasyus  into  the  remotest  corners  of  the  country,  or  lead  to 
their  partial  incorporation  with  the  conquerors  as  the  lowest 
grade_  in  their  community.  When  this  stage  was  reached, 
the  Aryas  would  no  longer  have  any  occasion  to  compose 
prayers  to  the  gods  for  protection  against  the  aboriginal  tribes  ; 
but  their  superstitious  dread  of  the  evil  spirits,  with  which  the 
popular  mind  in  all  ages  has  been  prone  to  people  the  night, 
would  still  continue '  (Grig.  Skr.  Texts,  pt.  ii.  p.  409  f.)-  Hence  it 
was  the  habit  in  ancient,  as  well  as  in  modern  times,  to  personify 
Nisi  or  Night  as  a  demon  ;  she  comes  at  midnight,  calls  the 
house-master,  and  forces  him  to  follow  her  whither  she  will ; 
she  drags  him  into  the  forest,  drops  him  among  thorns,  or  on 
the  top  of  some  high  tree  ;  and  it  is  very  dangerous  to  answer 
her  call  (JASB  i.  [1886]  49  f. ;  Kathd-sarit-sdgara  of  Somadeva, 
tr.  O.  H.  Tawney,  1880,  ii.  604 ;  Lai  Behari  Day,  Govinda 
Samanta,  1874,  L  9 ;  NltfQ  iii.  [1894]  199). 

As  representing  the  vague  terrors  felt  by  early  man  in  the 
desert  and  forest,  these  Indian  spirits  resemble  in  many  ways 
the  Arabian  jinn  (W.  R.  Smith,  119  ft.) ;  or,  as  Westermarck 
(MI,  190S,  ii.  689)  designates  them,  '  beings  invented  to  explain 
what  seems  to  fall  outside  the  ordinary  pale  of  Nature,  the 
wonderful  and  unexpected,  the  superstitious  imaginations  of 
men  who  fear."  Hence  many  of  the  Indian  races  represent  their 
deities  or  demons  as  inhabiting-  wild  hills  or  lonely  forests.  The 
Meitheis  believe  that  their  demons  occupy  hills  (T.  0.  Hodson, 
The  Meitheis,  1908,  p.  120).  The  Konga  Malayans  of  Cochin 
worship  two  demoniacal  deities  named  after  the  rocks  in  which 
they  reside ;  Sasthi,  a  sylvan  deity,  is  adored  by  the  Vallans, 
and  is  said  to  live  in  a  hill ;  the  Eravallars  believe  that  their 
forests  and  hills  are  full  of  dangerous  demons,  who  live  in  trees, 
and  rule  the  wild  beasts,  some  of  them  afflicting  particular 
families  or  villages,  and  are  propitiated  to  relieve  their  hunger, 
not  in  the  hope  of  gaining  any  benefit  for  their  worshippers  ; 
the  Nayadis  worship  a  group  of  forest  demons,  one  of  which 
brings  them  game,  and  is  abused  for  his  ingratitude  if  the  hunt 
proves  unsuccessful  (L.  K.  Iyer,  The  Cochin  Tribes  and  Castes, 
i.  41,  239,  47,  53).  Trees  are  also  a  favourite  demon-haunt 
(Tylor,  Prim.  Cult.*,  1873,  ii.  221).  The  Izhuvans  believe  that 
trees  are  occupied  by  demons  ;  and,  when  it  is  proposed  to  cut 
a  tree,  a  notice  to  the  demons  is  written  on  the  bark  informing 
them  that  it  is  intended  to  eject  them  (Iyer,  i.  281 ;  cf.  Orooke, 
PB?,  1896,  ii.  90  f. ;  R.  V.  Russell,  Census  Rep.  Central  Pro- 
vinces, 1901,  i.  92).  Many  of  the  non-Aryan  tribes  in  Bengal 
worship  deities  who  reside  in  hills.  Such  are  the  Juiings, 
Santals,  Oraons,  Cheros,  Kandhs,  and  Bauria  (Risley,  Tribes 
and  Castes  of  Bengal,  1891,  i.  353,  ii.  233,  145,  i.  202,  403,  80). 
The  Todas  believe  that,  before  they  were  created,  their  gods 
occupied  the  Nllgirl  Hills;  they  now  reside  in  heights  close 
to  the  Toda  hamlets  (Rivers,  The  Todas,  1906,  p.  182  ff.).  In 
the  same  class  are  the  water  spirits  or  deities  found  all  over 
the  country,  which  are  malevolent,  and  drag  down  unwary 
travellers — an  idea  which  appears  in  the  classical  tale  of 
Narcissus  (Crooke,  i.  42  ff. ;  Frazer,  GB2,  1900,  i.  293).  These 
Raksasas,  Danavas,  or  Daityas  still  maintain  their  position  in 
popular  belief,  the  tradition  surviving  through  the  study  of  the 
Epic  literature  and  the  older  collections  of  folklore,  like  the 
Jatakas  or  the  tales  of  Somadeva. 

(6)  Human  spirits. — The  second  and  much  more 
important  class  of  evil  spirits  is  that  of  the  ghosts 
of  human  beings,  known  collectively  as  Bhuta 
(Skr.  rt.  bhu,  *to  become,  be').  In  contradistinc- 
tion to  the  fiends  or  non-human  spirits,  these  are 
the  malignant  spirits  of  men,  which  for  various 
reasons  cherish  feelings  of  hostility  to  the  human 
race,  and,  if  not  expelled  or  propitiated,  do  endless 
mischief.  Among  the  more  primitive  or  debased 
tribes  the  belief  that  disease  and  death  are  the 
result  of  the  normal  or  abnormal  processes  of 
Nature  is  only  imperfectly  realized  ;  and  these  and 
other  calamities  are  regarded  as  the  work  of  evil 
spirits,  sometimes  acting  on  their  own  initiative, 
sometimes  incited  by  a  sorcerer  or  witch. 

3.  The  Bhuta :  their  characteristics. — In  S. 
India  three  terms  are  used  to  designate  these 
spirits — Bhuta,  Preta,  PMacha,  the  first  name 
being  ordinarily  applied  to  all  three  classes. 

'  These  beings,  always  evil,  originate  from  the  souls  of  those 
who  have  died  untimely  ot  violent  deaths,  or  been  deformed, 
idiotic,  or  insane ;  afflicted  with  fits  or  unusual  ailments ;  or 
drunken,  dissolute,  or  wicked  during  life.  The  precise  dis- 
tinction between  the  three  classes  is  that  the  Preta  [Skr.  rt.  pre~t 
"to  depart  from  life  "]  is  a  ghost  of  a  child  dying  in  infancy,  or  of 
one  born  deformed,  imperfect,  or  monstrous — events  attributed 
to  neglect  in  performing  certain  ceremonies  prescribed  during 
the  ten  days  when,  according  to  popular  notions,  the  limbs  of  the 


embryo  are  forming  in  the  womb :  such  a  ghost  becomes  a 
misshapen,  distorted  goblin.  The  Pteacha  ["flesh-eater"],  on 
the  other  hand,  is  derived  rather  from  mental  character- 
istics, and  is  the  ghost  of  madmen,  habitual  drunkards,  the 
treacherous  and  violent-tempered.  .  .  .  Bhutas  emanate  from 
those  who  die  in  any  unusual  way,  by  violence,  accident, 
suicide,  or  sentence  of  law  ;  or  who  have  been  robbers,  notorious 
evil-doers,  or  dreaded  for  cruelty  and  violence.  The  death  of 
any  well-known  bad  character  is  a  source  of  terror  to  all  his 
neighbourhood,  as  he  is  sure  to  become  a  Bhuta  or  demon,  as 
powerful  and  malignant  as  he  was  in  life '  (M.  J.  Walhouse,  JAI 
v.  408  f.).  They  are  represented  with  small  thick  bodies, 
of  a  red  colour,  with  pigtails  round  their  heads,  horrible  faces, 
the  teeth  of  a  lion  in  their  mouths,  and  their  bodies  covered 
with  ornaments  (Caldwell,  in  Ziegenbalg,  153).  In  the  Deccan 
they  live  in  large  trees,  empty  houses,  or  old  wells ;  they  often 
appear  as  a  deer,  a  tall  figure,  a  strange  ox  or  goat ;  if  a  person 
sleeps  under  a  haunted  tree,  cuts  a  branch  of  it,  defiles  the 
abode  of  the  Bhuta,  or  jostles  one  on  the  road,  he  falls  sick  or 
some  ill-luck  befalls  him  (BG  xviii.  pt.  i.  292).  In  Gujarat  the 
Bhuta  and  Preta,  like  the  European  Vampire,  are  believed  to 
take  possession  of  a  corpse,  and  speak  through  its  mouth  ;  they 
appear  in  the  form  which  they  possessed  when  living ;  enter 
a  living  man,  and  cause  him  to  speak  as  they  please ;  afflict 
him  with  fever  or  other  disease ;  appear  as  animals,  and  frighten 
people  by  vanishing  in  a  flame  of  fire ;  remain  sometimes  in- 
visible, and  speak  only  in  whispers ;  a  Bhuta  has  been  known 
to  come  to  fisticuffs  with  a  man,  or  to  carry  him  off  and  set  him 
down  in  a  strange  place ;  cases  have  been  reported  in  which 
women  have  been  found  with  child  by  them ;  when  a  Bhuta 
appears  in  a  tree,  a  pile  of  stones  is  raised  at  its  root,  to  which 
every  passer-by  adds  one  ;  if  stones  be  not  procurable,  a  rag  is 
stuck  to  the  tree,  which  is  hence  known  as  the  '  Rag-uncle '  [cf. 
Hartland,  LP,  1895,  ii.  175 ff.;  Orooke,  PR2  i.  161  ff.]  (Dal- 
patram  Daya,  '  Bhoot  Nibundh,'  in  A.  K.  Forbes,  Rds  Maid, 
644  ff.).  The  Bhuta  eat  filth,  and  drink  any  water,- however 
impure ;  they  cannot  rest  on  the  ground,  and  for  this  reason  a 
peg,  or  brick,  or  bamboo  pole  is  placed  at  their  shrines  on 
which  they  may  sit  or  perch ;  they  speak  a  sort  of  gibberish  in 
a  nasal  tone,  and  hence  '  goblin  speech '  (pi&acha  bhasa)  is 
the  term  applied  to  the  jargon  in  the  mediaeval  drama  and 
in  modern  English  (PR1*  i.  238) ;  those  who  come  from  dead 
Brahmans  are  wheat-coloured,  while  others,  like  the  ghost  of  a 
negro,  are  black  and  specially  dreaded  (ib.  i.  236  ff.).  As  a  rule 
they  are  helpless  by  day,  and  move  abroad  at  night ;  but  mid- 
day, when  they  cook,  and  evening  are  specially  dangerous 
times,  and  women  should  not  move  about,  especially  at  midday, 
unprotected  (E.  Thurston,  Castes  and  Tribes  of  S.  India,  vi. 
230 ;  A.  K.  Iyer,  i.  150 ;  BG  xviii.  pt.  i.  292 ;  PNQ  iv.  132 ; 
cf.  the  similar  classical  belief  [Theocr.  Idyll,  i.  15;  Lucan, 
Pharsal.  iii.  423 ;  R.  Rodd,  Customs  and  Lore  of  Modern  Greece, 
1892,  p.  181 ;  J.  T.  Bent,  The  Cyclades,  1885,  p.  85] ;  cf.  also  art. 
Calendar  [Celtic],  vol.  iii.  p.  82). 

4.  Spirits  of  the  murdered,  the  unsatisfied,  the 
foreigner. — Of  these  classes  of  Bhuta  the  most 
dangerous  are  the  spirits  of  the  murdered,  the 
unsatisfied,  and  the  dreaded  foreigner. 

(a)  Spirits  of  the  murdered. — All  over  the  world 
the  ghost  of  a  murdered  person  is  believed  to 
cherish  an  angry  passion  for  revenge  (Westermarck, 
i.  418  f.).  Some  of  the  most  dangerous  Bhuta  are 
of  this  class. 

In  Coorg  the  demon  most  widely  feared  is  that  of  a  magician 
who  was  shot.  Elmakaltai,  mother  of  seven  sons,  who  was 
buried  as  a  sacrifice  under  the  walls  of  the  Kolhapur  fort  (cf. 
Crooke,  ii.  173  ff.),  causes  food  supplies  to  dwindle,  the  milk  to 
give  no  butter,  and  the  cattle  to  sicken  ;  the  Oraons  distinguish 
three  classes  of  such  demons,  who  are  known  as  the  Bhula, 
'  wanderers  who  have  lost  their  way,'  including  those  who  have 
been  murdered,  hanged,  or  killed  by  a  tiger  (G.  Richter, 
Manual  of  Coorg,  1870,  p.  165 ;  Mem.  As.  Soc.  Bengal,}  1906,  i. 
140  f.).  Several  of  the  most  widely  revered  local  deities  of  N. 
India  are  the  spirits  of  persons,  particularly  Brahmans,  who 
have  lost  their  lives  in  some  tragical  way,  and  the  ghosts  of  dead 
bandits,  or  of  those  who  were  slain  by  tigers  or  other  wild 
animals  (E.  A.  Gait,  Census  Rep.  Bengal,  1901,  i.  196  ff. ;  Crooke, 
i.  191  ff.,  ii.  213  f.). 

Hence  comes  the  conception  of  a  special  Brahman 
demon,  known  as  Brahma-raksasa,  Brahma-daitva, 
Brahma-purusa,  or  popularly  as  Brahm,  the  spirit 
of  a  murdered  Brahman.  The  Brahman  being 
himself  spirit-laden,  his  ghost  is  invested  with 
special  potency  for  good  or  evil.  In  Bengal 
'such  spirits  are  specially  powerful  and  malicious.  Sometimes 
they  are  represented  as  a  headless  trunk,  with  the  eyes  looking 
from  the  breast.  They  are  believed  to  inhabit  large  trees  by 
the  side  of  a  river  or  in  some  lonely  place,  whence  they  throw 
stones  at  travellers  and  lead  them  astray  on  dark  nights,  and 
woe  betide  the  unfortunate  who  should  give  one  of  them  cause 
for  offence  (e.g.  by  unwittingly  felling  the  tree  in  which  they  have 
taken  up  their  abode),  or  who  was  in  any  way  responsible  for  his 
death.  He  can  only  escape  the  evil  consequences  by  making 
the  Bdrham  his  family  deity  and  worshipping  him  regularly 
(Gait,  i.   198;  Crooke,  ii.  78).     In  W.  India  the  rulers  of  the 

1  Hereafter  cited  as  31ASB. 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Indian) 


603 


State  of  Savantva<Ji  are  afflicted  by  the  demon-spirit  of  a 
Brahman  killed  in  the  17th  century.  He  is  particularly  ex- 
cited if  any  one  uses  his  seal  of  office,  and  down  to  the  present 
day  a  Brahman  is  always  employed  to  seal  the  State  papers 
(jB(?  x.  440).  In  the  Deccan  the  Brahma-samandh,  the  spirit  of 
a  married  Brahman,  haunts  empty  houses,  burning- grounds, 
river-banks,  seldom  attacks  people,  but  when  he  does  attack 
them  it  is  difficult  to  shake  him  off  (ib.  xxiv.  415).  In  the  same 
region  the  Brahma-purusa  is  the  spirit  of  a  miser  Brahman, 
who  died  in  grief,  intent  on  adding  to  his  hoard ;  when  he  lives 
in  his  own  house,  he  attacks  any  member  of  the  family  who 
spends  his  money,  wears  his  clothes,  or  does  anything  to  which 
in  life  he  would  have  objected  (ib.  xviii.  pt.  i.  663  f.). 

(6)  Those  who  have  left  this  world  with  unsatisfied 
desires. — The  spirits  of  the  unhappy  or  unsatisfied 
fall  into  several  groups  : — 

(a)  Unhappy  widows  and  widowers,  childless 
women. — Among  these  the  most  dreaded  is  the 
Churel,  Churail,  Chudel,  Chudail,  or  the  Alwantin, 
as  she  is  called  in  the  Deccan — the  spirit  of  a 
pregnant  woman,  one  dying  on  the  day  of  child- 
birth, or  within  the  period  of  puerperal  pollution. 

In  the  Panjab  she  appears  as  a  pretty  woman,  with  her  feet 
turned  backwards,  and  is  specially  dangerous  to  members  of 
her  own  family  (PNQ  ii.  16S  f .).  Among  the  Oraons,  when  the 
exorcist  forces  her  to  appear  in  the  flame  of  his  lamp,  she  looks 
like  the  Dakini,  the  common  type  of  ogress ;  but  her  feet  are 
distorted!  she  is  hunch-backed,  and  has  a  large  hole  in  her 
belly  like  the  hollow  in  a  tree  (MASB,  1906,  i.  140).  In  Madras 
a  woman  who  dies  prematurely,  especially  as  the  result  of 
-uicide  or  accident,  becomes  a  she-devil,  known  by  the 
uphemistical  title  of  Hoham,  'the  charmer,'  and  she  so 
continues  until  her  normal  term  of  life  is  over  (NINQ  i.  104). 
In  the  Deccan  the  Jakhin  (Skr.  yaksini,  rt.  yaks,  '  to  move  *) 
is  the  spirit  of  an  uneasy  married  woman,  who  haunts  bathing 
and  cooking  rooms,  attacks  her  husband's  second  wife  and 
children,  takes  her  own  children  from  their  stepmother,  or, 
like  the  British  fairies,  steals  babies  and  returns  them  after  a 
time  (BG  xxiv.  416).  The  spirit  of  a  deceased  husband  or  wife, 
particularly  the  latter,  is  most  dangerous  to  his  or  her  successor. 
This  is,  in  part,  an  explanation  of  the  objection  felt  among  the 
higher  castes  to  widow-marriage,  of  the  custom  of  performing 
the  rite  at  night  in  order  to  avoid  the  observation  of  the  angry 
spirit,  and  of  the  use  of  sundry  ceremonies  which  repel  evil 
spirits  (R.  E.  Enthoven,  Bombay  Census  Rep.,  1901,  i.  208). 
Among  the  Kolis  of  Ahmadnagar  a  widow  bride  is  held  to  be 
unlucky  for  three  days  after  her  marriage,  and  must  take  care 
that  no  married  woman  sees  her  until  that  period  is  over ;  if 
after  such  a  marriage  the  widow  bride  or  her  husband  should 
fall  sick,  the  medium,  when  consulted,  usually  reports  that  it 
is  caused  by  the  spirit  of  her  first  husband,  who  is  annoyed 
because  his  wife  has  married  again ;  the  bride  has  to  give  a 
feast,  spend  money  in  charity,  and  wear  in  a  copper  case  round 
her  neck  a  tiny  image  of  her  late  husband,  or  set  it  among  the 
household  gods  (BG  xvii.  206).  Such  amulets  are  known  in  the 
Panjab  as  *  the  crown  of  the  rival  wife '  (saukan  maurd),  and 
to  them  all  gifts  made  to  her  are  presented  as  a  measure  of 
precaution  (H.  A.  Rose,  Census  Rep.,  1901,  i.  121).  Sometimes 
the  widow  wears  a  gold-wire  bracelet  on  her  right  wrist,  and 
every  year,  in  the  name  of  her  deceased  husband,  feeds  a 
Brahman  woman  whose  husband  is  alive,  and  gives  her  clothes 
(BG  xxii.  814).  When  a  widow  of  the  Let  tribe  in  Bengal 
marries  again,  her  Becond  husband  is  usually  a  widower,  and 
he  places  the  iron  bangle  of  his  first  wife  on  the  arm  of  her 
successor  (E.  A.  Gait,  i.  421).  In  the  Deccan  the  Asra  is  the 
spirit  of  a  young  woman  who  committed  suicide  after  bearing 
one  or  more  children ;  she  attacks  young  women,  and  must  be 
propitiated  by  offerings  of  cooked  rice,  turmeric,  red  powder, 
and  a  bodice  (BG.  xviii.  pt.  i.  653).  The  Hadal  or  Hedali,  the 
spectre  of  a  woman  dying  in  pregnancy  or  childbirth,  is  plump 
in  front  and  a  skeleton  behind,  lives  in  wells,  trees,  or  dark 
corners  of  the  house,  attacks  women,  and,  sometimes  appearing 
as  a  beautiful  woman,  lives  with  men  until  her  fiend  nature  or 
spectre  form  is  discovered  (ib.  xviii.  pt.  i.  564).  The  corpses  of 
women  dying  under  such  circumstances  are  often  burnt  in 
order  to  prevent  sorcerers  from  digging  them  up  and  using  the 
unborn  fcetus  or  the  bones  of  the  mother  for  purposes  of  Black 
Magic  (ib.  xxiii.  201 ;  A.  K.  Iyer,  i.  77  f.). 

(£)  Unhappy  children  and  the  unmarried. — 
Under  the  influence  of  the  same  belief  that  the 
spirits  of  those  dying  with  unsatisfied  desires 
become  malignant,  children  and  unmarried  persons 
are  included  in  the  army  of  evil  spectres. 

In  the  Himalaya,  the  Tola  or  Masan  (the  latter  a  term 
ordinarily  used  to  designate  cemetery  spectres)  are  the  spirits 
of  children  or  bachelors,  sometimes  appearing  in  the  form  of  a 
will-o'-the-wisp,  banished  from  the  society  of  other  spirits, 
living  in  wild  and  solitary  places,  sometimes  prowling  about  in 
the  form  of  bears  or  other  wild  animals.  They  are,  as  a  rule, 
harmless,  and  their  present  estate  is  only  temporary,  because 
after  a  time  they  undergo  transformation,  and  assume  other 
Bhapes  (Crooke,  i.  261 ;  Oakley,  218). 

The  spirits  of  the  unmarried  dead  form  a  large 
group. 

In  S.  India  such  spirits  are  called  Virika  (Skr.  vira,  'heroic,' 
'eminent'),   'and  to  their  memory  have  small  temples  and 


images  erected,  where  offerings  of  cloth,  rice,  and  the  like  are 
made  to  their  manes.  If  this  be  neglected,  they  appear  in 
dreams,  and  threaten  those  who  are  forgetful  of  their  duty ' 
(F.  Buchanan,  A  Journey  through  Mysore,  Canary,  and 
Malabar,  i.  369 ;  cf.  ii.  120,  162,  where  the  name  is  extended  to 
the  spirits  of  bad  men,  who  afflict  the  living).  In  Kanara,  if 
neglected,  such  spirits  send  pestilence  among  men  and  sheep, 
and  disturb  people  by  dreams  and  nightmares  (BG  xv.  pt.  i. 
300).  In  the  Deccan  the  Jhoting  is  the  spirit  of  a  youth  dying 
unmarried  and  leaving  no  relatives;  it  lives  in  trees,  ruins,  or 
burial-grounds,  is  most  faithless  and  can  be  bound  by  no  oath, 
personifies  absent  husbands,  leads  wayfarers  into  pools  and 
drowns  them,  waylays  postmen,  who  are  safe  so  long  as  they 
do  not  lay  down  their  bags  (BG  xviii.  pt.  i.  654).  Elsewhere 
the  Jhoting  is  the  ghost  of  a  low-caste  Hindu  who  died  with 
unsatisfied  desires,  wears  no  clothes,  and  lets  his  hair  flow 
loose ;  he  lives  in  a  house  of  his  own,  but,  if  this  be  burnt  oi 
pulled  down,  he  removes  to  a  river  or  well ;  he  fears  to  enter 
sacred  places,  or  to  attack  persons  learned  in  the  Vedas  and 
strict  in  the  performance  of  their  religious  duties  (ib.  xxiv.  417). 
In  the  Deccan  those  who  die  after  the  rite  of  thread-girding 
and  before  marriage  become  evil  spirits,  known  as  Munja  (Skr 
muflja,  '  the  fibre  girdle  of  the  Brahman ')  or  Afhavar  (Skr 
atfavarsa,  'eight  years  old')  (ib.  xviii.  pt.  i.  639).  Such 
spirits  are  greatly  feared  in  the  Panjab,  where  they  are  known 
by  the  euphemistical  title  of  '  father '  (pita) ;  shrines  are 
erected  to  them  near  tanks,  and  offerings  are  made  (NINQ  v. 
179).  A  typical  case  of  the  deification  of  the  unmarried  is 
found  in  the  cult  of  Dulha  Deo, '  the  deified  bridegroom,'  which 
seems  to  have  originated  in  the  Central  Provinces,  where  a 
bridegroom  on  his  wedding  journey  was  killed  by  a  tiger  or  in 
Bome  other  tragical  way  ;  at  marriages  a  miniature  coat,  shoes, 
and  bridal  crown,  with  a  little  swing  to  amuse  the  child,  are 
offered  to  him  (R.  V.  Russell,  i.  80;  Crooke,  i.  119  ff.).  In  the 
Panjab,  under  the  influence  of  Vaisnava  beliefs,  he  is  said  to 
represent  the  relationship  of  God  to  the  human  soul,  exhibited 
as  that  of  a  lover  to  his  mistress  (H.  A.  Rose,  i.  130).  For 
similar  legends  of  a  bride  and  bridegroom  turned  into  stone,  see 
J.  Grimm,  Teut.  Mythol.,  Eng.  tr.,  1888,  iv.  1446  ;  W.  C.  Borlase, 
Dolmens  of  Ireland,  1897,  ii.  549. 

(c)  Spirits  of  foreigners. — The  same  feelings  of 
awe  or  fear  naturally  attach  to  the  spirits  of  dead 
foreigners,  whose  valour,  cruelty,  or  other  qualities 
have  impressed  the  minds  of  a  subject  people. 

At  Saharanpur  a  Musalman  named  Allah  Bakhsh,  who  died 
in  a  state  of  impurity,  has  become  a  dangerous  demon, 
worshipped  by  the  lower  castes  of  Hindus  (NINQ  v.  183) 
Such  a  spirit  ia  known  by  the  euphemistical  title  of  Mamduh 
'praised,'  'famous,'  or  as  Najis,  'the  impure  one.'  He  wears 
Musalman  dress,  with  his  hair  on  end,  and  carries  branches  in 
his  hands ;  even  the  Pir,  or  saint,  sometimes  becomes  hostile  to 
people  who  unguardedly  sit  upon  his  tomb,  Bpit  at  it,  or  in 
other  ways  annoy  him  (ib.  v.  106;  BG  xxiv.  416  f.,  xviii.  pt.  i. 
-'■-■■!).  People  resort  to  the  shrine  of  a  Muhammadan  saint 
Alam  Pir,  at  Muzaffargarh  in  the  Panjab,  to  procure  release 
from  such  spirits.  In  fact,  the  Indian  Muhammadans  have 
appropriated  much  of  the  demonology  of  their  Hindu  neigh- 
bours, and  exorcism  and  the  modes  of  securing  control  of  evil 
spirits  have  become  important  branches  of  science  (G.  A 
Herklots,  Qanoon-e- Islam,  1SR3,  p.  201  ff. ;  BG  ix.  pt.  ii.  147  ff.) 
In  the  same  way  the  dread  spirits  of  Europeans  are  propitiated 
That  of  a  certain  Captain  Pole,  killed  at  Travancore  in  1809,  is 
appeased  with  gifts  of  spirits  and  cigars  (JASB  i.  104 ;  E 
Thurston,  Ethnographic  Notes,  1906,  p.  296  f.).  Similar  cases 
of  the  propitiation  of  the  spirits  of  European  men  and  women 
are  common  in  various  parts  of  the  country  (Crooke,  ii.  199  ; 
BG  xviii.  pt.  i.  413,  pt.  til.  447  ;  NINQ  ii.  93  ;  PNQ  ii.  133).  In 
some  places,  however,  such  spirits  are  regarded  as  kindly,  as  in 
the  cases  of  General  Raymond,  who  died  at  Haidarabad  in  1798, 
and  Colonel  Wallace,  who  died  in  the  Deccan  in  1809  (S.  H. 
Bilgrami  and  C.  Willraott,  Hist,  and  Descr.  Sketch  of  H.H.  the 
Nizam's  Dominions,  1883,  ii.  600  ff. ;  BG  xviii.  pt.  iii.  447  f.). 

5.  Modes  of  repelling  or  conciliating  evil  spirits. 
— Various  methods  are  employed  to  repel  or  con- 
ciliate evil  spirits.  If  the  spirit  after  death  is  to 
pass  to  the  home  of  the  Pitri,  or  sainted  dead,  or  to 
undergo  the  necessary  stages  of  transmigration,  it 
is  necessary  that  the  funeral  rites  (Sraddha)  shall 
have  been  duly  performed  (see  Ancestor- WORSHIP 
[Indian],  vol.  i.  p.  450  ft*. ).  Hence  the  family  spirit  is 
usually  benevolent,  if  care  be  taken  to  provide  for 
its  wants.  Thus  arises  the  very  common  classifica- 
tion of  spirits  into  the  *  inside  *  and  the  '  outside ' 
— the  former  usually  friendly ;  the  latter,  being 
foreigners,  usually  hostile.  The  Oraons  divide 
their  spirits  into  those  of  the  house,  the  sept,  the 
village,  and  the  Bhula,  or  dangerous  wanderers 
{MASS,  1906,  i.  138).  In  the  Deccan  there  are 
'  home '  and  '  outside  *  spirits,  the  latter  not  being 
greatly  feared,  because,  though  every  field  has  its 
evil  spirit,  they  are  restrained  by  the  Guardians 
(see  §  9),  who  are  more  powerful  and  able  to  control 
them.     The  friendly  house  spirit  generally  merges 


604 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Indian) 


into  the  protecting  family  deity,  like  Gumo  Gosain, 
the  Male  god  who  dwells  in  the  house  pillar,  or 
Dharma  Pennu,  the  Kandh  god  of  the  family  or 
tribe  (Risley,  ii.  58,  i.  403). 

In  any  case,  after  a  time,  usually  represented  by 
the  period  of  human  memory,  the  spirit  automatic- 
ally passes  to  its  rest,  and  ceases  to  be  a  source  of 
danger  to  the  survivors. 

In  the  Deccan  the  life  and  influence  of  a  Bhuta  last  for  four, 
and  the  evil  conditions  of  haunted  places  for  two,  generations 
(BG  xviii.  pt.  i.  556) ;  the  Hpon  of  Upper  Burma  worship  only 
their  fathers  and  mothers  (Gazetteer  upper  Burma,  i.  pt.  L  568, 
600 ;  cf.  Crooke,  i.  178). 

When  the  inability  to  perform  the  funeral  rites 
and  the  consequent  restlessness  or  maliciousness 
of  the  spirit  are  due  to  the  absence  of  the  corpse, 
as  in  the  case  of  death  occurring  in  a  strange  land 
or  the  failure  to  recover  the  body,  the  relatives 
perform  the  funeral  in  effigy. 

Among  the  Garos,  when  a  man  dies  away  from  his  village  and 
cannot  be  cremated  at  home,  the  relatives  buy  a  number  of 
cowrie-shells  and  put  them  in  a  pot  to  represent  the  bones  of 
the  dead  man,  or  erect  a  mortuary  hut  in  which  they  are  de- 
posited (A.  Playfair,  The  Garos,  1909,  p.  111).  In  some  cases, 
among  orthodox  Hindus,  the  corpse  is  represented  by  branches 
of  the  sacred  Butea  frondosa  tree — the  head  by  a  coco-nut ; 
pearls,  or,  failing  them,  cowrie-shells,  for  the  eyes;  the  whole 
being  covered  with  paste  made  of  ground  pulse  to  simulate  the 
flesh,  and  a  deer-skin  representing  the  cuticle ;  the  officiating 
priest,  by  the  use  of  magical  formulae  (mantra),  infuses  life  into 
the  image,  the  animating  principle  being  represented  by  a  lamp 
placed  close  by ;  when  the  lamp  goes  out,  the  usual  funeral 
rites  are  performed  (NINQ  iii.  201 ;  cf.  BG  xviii.  pt.  i.  564). 
When  the  death  of  a  relative  occurs  under  an  unlucky  constella- 
tion in  a  Brahman  family,  a  special  quieting  rite  (6anti)  is  per- 
formed to  appease  the  uneasy  spirit. 

Even  in  the  case  of  those  dying  in  a  natural  way, 
precautions  are  taken  to  prevent  the  spirit  from 
returning  to  its  original  home  from  the  burial-  or 
cremation -ground. 

Among  the  Madras  tribes,  when  a  Bavuri  is  being  buried,  the 
friends  say  :  '  You  were  living  with  us ;  now  you  have  left  us. 
Do  not  trouble  the  people  * ;  the  spirit  of  a  dead  Savara  is 
solemnly  adjured  not  to  worry  his  widow :  '  Do  not  send  sick- 
ness on  her  children.  Her  second  husband  has  done  no  harm 
to  you.  She  chose  him  for  her  husband,  and  he  consented  ;  O 
man,  be  appeased  1  O  unseen  ones  t  O  ancestors  I  be  you 
witnesses '  (Thurston,  i.  179,  vi.  321).  When  the  corpse  of 
a  Taungtha  is  carried  outside  the  house,  the  chief  mourner 
pours  water  on  it,  saying :  '  As  a  stream  divides  countries,  so 
may  the  water  now  poured  divide  us  1 '  (Gazetteer  Upper  Burma, 
i.  pt.  i.  557). 

Another  plan  is  to  endeavour  to  deceive  the 
spirit,  so  that  it  may  not  find  its  way  back,  by 
taking  it  out  of  the  house  feet  foremost,  or  through 
a  door  not  usually  opened  for  ingress  and  egress. 

The  Meitheis  never  carry  the  corpse  over  the  threshold  of  the 
main  door ;  sometimes  a  bole  is  cut  in  the  wall,  or  the  tiny  side 
entrance  is  used  (Hodson,  117).  Among  the  Maghs  of  Bengal, 
when  the  master  of  the  house  has  died,  the  mourners  on  their 
return  cut  away  the  house  ladder,  and  creep  in  through  a  hole  cut 
in  the  back  wall,  in  order  to  baffle  the  ghost  (Risley,  ii.  34).  A 
similar  device  is  that  of  making  the  corpse-bearers  change  places 
on  the  road  to  the  grave,  and  turn  the  corpse  in  the  opposite 
direction  (BG  xviii.  pt.  i.  424 ;  ix.  pt.  i.  48).  With  the  same 
intention,  the  mourners  are  forbidden  to  look  back  when  leaving 
the  cemetery  (Crooke,  ii.  56  f.),  the  evil  influence  being  com- 
municated through  the  sight  (E.  Crawley,  The  Mystic  Rose,  1902, 
p.  115 ;  FL  xviii.  [1907]  345). 

Sometimes  the  repression  of  the  evil  spirit  is 
secured  in  a  physical  way. 

The  thumbs  and  great  toes  of  the  corpse  are  tied  together  to 
prevent  the  ghost  from  '  walking,'  or  it  is  tied  up  in  a  cotton 
bag,  as  among  the  Bhoti3Tas  (Playfair,  106;  Thurston,  iii.  104, 
iv.  371,  494,  v.  483,  vii.  83 ;  Gazetteer  Upper  Burma,  i.  pt  i.  557; 
MASB,  1905,  i.  109).  Among  the  Koyis  of  Madras,  when  a  girl 
dies  of  syphilis,  a  fish-trap  is  erected  to  catch  the  spirit,  and 
prevent  it  from  entering  the  village  (Thurston,  iv.  55).  Some 
people,  when  returning  from  the  funeral,  fling  pebbles  towards 
the  pyre  to  scare  the  spirit,  or  make  a  barricade  of  thorny  bushes 
between  the  grave  and  the  house  (Crooke,  ii.  67 ;  Risley,  ii.  75). 
With  the  same  intention,  the  names  of  deceased  relatives  are 
tabu  for  a  generation,  to  avoid  recalling  their  spirits ;  or,  when 
parents  die,  men  assume  the  names  of  their  deceased  grand- 
father ;  women,  of  their  grandmother  (Sir  R.  Temple,  Census 
Rep,  Andaman  Islands,  1901,  i.  253).  One  reason  given  for  the 
wide-spread  custom  of  shaving  after  a  death  is  that  it  changes 
the  appearance  of  the  mourners  so  as  to  deceive  the  pur- 
suing spirit,  or  removes  the  shelter  in  which  it  may  hide  and 
cling  to  the  mourner  (Frazer,  JAI  xv.  [1S86]  99).  To  prevent 
the  spirit  rising  from  the  grave  and  'walking,'  it  is  a  common 
practice,  particularly  among  menial  castes,  to  bury  the  corpse 


face  downwards,  and  to  pile  stones  and  thorns  on  the  grave 
(Thurston,  iv.  322,  374,  vii.  426;  Gait,  i.  419;  Crooke,  ii.  60; 
BG  xxii.  196  ;  cf.  R.  S.  Hardy,  Eastern  Monachism,  1850,  p.  322). 

Precautions  in  the  case  of  more  dangerous  spirits. 
— Precautions  of  this  kind  are  more  urgent  in  the 
case  of  spirits  specially  malignant. 

In  the  case  of  the  Churel,  sometimes  the  corpse  of  a  woman 
dying  pregnant  is  cut  open  and  the  child  removed ;  or  the  spirit 
is  scared  by  fire,  earth,  and  water ;  or  iron  nails  are  driven  into 
her  fingers,  and  the  thumbs  fastened  together  with  iron  rings 
(Crooke,  i.  272  ff.).  The  Oraons  carry  the  corpse  of  such  a  woman 
to  a  distance,  break  the  feet  above  the  ankles,  and  twist  them 
round,  bringing  the  heels  in  front,  into  which  they  drive  long 
thorns ;  they  bury  her  deep  in  the  earth  face  downwards,  and 
place  with  her  corpse  the  bones  of  an  ass,  reciting  the  anathema : 
1  If  you  come  home,  may  you  turn  into  an  ass  I ' ;  the  roots  of 
a  palm-tree  are  also  buried  with  her,  with  the  curse  :  '  May 
you  come  home  when  the  leaves  of  the  palm  wither  !' ;  when 
they  leave  the  burial-ground,  they  spread  mustard  seeds  along 
the  road,  saying :  '  When  you  try  to  come  home,  pick  up  all 
these  1 '  (MASB,  1906,  i.  140).  This  last  charm  is  very  common, 
and  is  one  of  the  usual  impossible  tasks  found  in  the  folk-tales 
(Crooke,  i.  273  f.  ;  BG  xix.  134,  xxiv.  417 ;  Steel-Temple,  Wide- 
awake Stories,  1884,  p.  430).  These  precautions,  under  Brahman 
guidance,  have  been  elaborated  into  a  special  funeral  ritual  for 
womendyingduring  the  menstrual  period,  after  the  sixth  month 
of  pregnancy,  and  within  ten  days  after  childbirth  (BG  xviii. 
pt.  i.  561  f.). 

The  misery  of  the  unmarried  dead  is  relieved 
by  the  curious  rite  of  marriage  with  the  dead  (cf. 
Frazer,  Pausaniast  v.  [1898]  389ff.)  —  a  custom 
which  in  India  seems  to  prevail  only  in  Madras 
and  among  some  Burmese  tribes. 

When  a  Toda  boy  dies  unmarried,  a  girl  is  selected  ;  her  head 
is  covered  by  her  father  with  a  mantle,  and  she  puts  food  into 
the  pocket  of  the  mantle  of  the  dead  ;  the  Nambutiri  Brahmans 
perform  the  rite  of  tying  the  marriage  necklace  on 'a  dead  un- 
married girl  (Rivers,  367,  701 ;  Bull.  Madr.  Mus.  iii.  61).  The 
disgusting  custom  of  enforced  sexual  connexion  by  a  male  with 
such  a  dead  girl,  ascribed  by  Abbe  Dubois  to  the  Nayars,  seems 
to  be  based  on  a  misunderstanding  of  this  rite  of  mock  mar- 
riage (J.  A.  Dubois,  Hindu  Manners,  Customs,  and  Cere- 
monies^,  1906,  p.  16 f.).  Besides  the  Todas  and  Nambutiris, 
several  S.  Indian  tribes  perform  this  mock  marriage,  such  as 
the  Badagas,  Billavas,  and  Komatis,  while  among  the  Pallis  and 
Vaniyans  the  dead  bachelor  is  solemnly  married  to  the  arlca 
plant  (Calotropis  gigantea)  (V.  N.  Aiya,  Travancore  State 
Manual,  1906,  ii.  259 ;  Thurston,  i  117,  250  f.,  iii.  334,  v.  197, 
vi.  22,  vii.  315).  Among  the  Chins  of  Upper  Burma,  if,  before 
the  great  contracting  ceremony  is  completed,  either  party  dies, 
the  rites  are  continued  with  the  corpse,  which  is  kept  unburied 
until  the  rite  is  finished ;  in  this  they  probably  follow  the  custom 
well  established  among  the  Chinese  (Gazetteer  Upper  Burma, 
ii.  pt.  ii.  303 ;  J.  J.  M.  de  Groot,  Rel.  Syst.  of  China,  1894,  ii. 
800 ff.;  J.  H.  Gray,  China,  1878,  i.  216 ff.). 

6.  Possession  by  spirits. — Possession  by  evil 
spirits  or  demons  is  of  two  kinds : 

'  The  theory  of  embodiment  serves  several  highly  important 
purposes  in  savage  and  barbarian  philosophy.  On  the  one  hand, 
it  provides  an  explanation  of  the  phenomena  of  morbid  exalta- 
tion and  derangement,  especially  as  connected  with  abnormal 
utterance,  and  this  view  is  so  far  extended  as  to  produce  an 
almost  general  doctrine  of  disease.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
enables  the  savage  either  to  "lay"  a  hurtful  spirit  in  some 
foreign  body,  and  so  get  rid  of  it,  or  to  carry  about  a  useful 
spirit  for  his  service  in  a  material  object,  to  set  it  up  as  a  deity 
for  worship  in  the  body  of  an  animal,  or  in  a  block  or  stone  or 
image  or  other  thing,  which  contains  the  spirit  as  a  vessel  con- 
tains a  fluid :  this  is  the  key  to  strict  fetishism,  and  in  no  small 
measure  to  idolatry '  (Tylor  2,  ii.  123). 

These  two  varieties  of  spirit  possession  can  be 
traced  in  Indian  beliefs. 

(a)  Abnormal  or  disease  possession. — In  the  first 
place,  we  have  cases  of  abnormal  possession.  Cer- 
tain persons  are  supposed  to  be  specially  liable 
to  spirit  possession,  thus  defined  by  a  native 
writer : 

*The  men  most  liable  to  spirit  attacks  are  the  impotent,  the 
lustful,  the  lately  widowed;  bankrupts,  sons  and  brothers  of 
whores,  convicts,  the  idle,  brooders  on  the  unknowable,  gluttons, 
and  starvers.  The  women  most  liable  to  spirit  attacks  are  girls, 
young  women  who  have  lately  come  of  age,  young  widows, 
idlers,  whores,  brooders  on  the  unknowable,  irregular  or  glut- 
tonous eaters,  and  all  sickly  women.  Women  are  specially 
liable  to  spirit  attacks  during  their  monthly  sickness,  during 
pregnancy,  and  in  childbed ;  and  men,  women,  and  children 
are  all  apt  to  suffer  when,  dressed  in  their  best,  they  go  to 
gardens  or  near  wells.  Intelligent  and  educated  men  and 
healthy  intelligent  women  are  freer  than  others  from  spirit 
attacks '  (BG  xxii.  813). 

Demon  possession  thus  accounts  for  various  ab- 
normal states  of  mind  and  for  the  phenomena 
classed  as  hysteria.  Hence  patients,  particularly 
women,  suffering  in  this  way  require  special  pro- 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Indian) 


605 


tection,  or  it  is  necessary  to  expel  the  demons  by 
whom  they  are  possessed. 

In  Cochin,  among  the  Eravallars,  if  a  pregnane  woman  dreams 
of  dogs,  cats,  or  wild  animals  coming  to  attack  her,  she  is  be- 
lieved to  be  possessed  by  demons.  An  exorcist,  or  '  devil- 
driver,'  is  called  in,  who  makes  a  hideous  figure  on  the  ground 
representing  the  demon,  sings,  beats  a  drum,  mutters  spells, 
burns  frankincense,  and  waves  round  the  head  of  the  patient 
an  offering  of  food  for  the  demon,  on  receiving  which  he  leaves 
her  (A.  K.  Iyer,  i.  45 1,  107;  Thurston,  ii.  73,  214).  In  the 
Panjab,  a  woman  after  childbirth  is  specially  liable  to  the 
attacks  of  demons,  and  has  to  wear  an  iron  ring,  made,  if  pos- 
sible, out  of  an  old  horse-shoe,  and  to  keep  a  fire  burning  near 
her  (PNQ  iii.  81).  For  the  same  reason,  at  the  puberty  rites  of 
a  girl,  offerings  are  made  to  demons  (A.  K.  Iyer,  i.  146).  The 
same  is  the  case  with  people  at  various  crises  of  their  lives,  such 
as  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  the  mourners,  and  the  corpse- 
bearers  at  funeral  rites.  Such  persons  are  protected  by  various 
charms  and  amulets  (see  Charms  akd  Amulets  [Indian],  vol.  iii. 
p.  441  ff.). 

(b)  Conciliation  by  gifts  of  food ,  etc. — Attempts 
are  often  made  to  conciliate  demons  on  such  occa- 
sions by  throwing  food  for  them  by  the  roadside  or 
in  the  house. 

In  the  Himalaya,  food  is  waved  round  the  head  of  a  possessed 
person  and  left  out  on  the  road  by  night,  any  one  touching  it 
being  liable  to  Bpirit  attack  (PNQ  iii.  73).  When  a  birth  occurs 
in  the  family  of  a  Chitpavan  Brahman,  cooked  rice,  on  which  a 
dough  lamp  is  placed,  is  laid  in  a  corner  of  the  street  (BG  xviii. 
pt.  l.  113  f.).  When  the  Reddis  of  Bijapur  disturb  the  field 
spirits  at  the  first  ploughing,  pieces  of  coco-nut  are  thrown  on 
each  side  of  the  plough  track  ;  and  at  a  Brahman  funeral  in  the 
Deccan  a  man  carries  a  winnowing-fan  full  of  coco-kernel 
which  he  scatters  abroad  (ib.  xxiii.  147,  xviii.  pt.  i.  149).  The 
Kuki  priest,  in  cases  of  sickness,  prescribes  the  appropriate 
victim,  and  eats  its  flesh,  throwing  what  he  cannot  eat  as  an 
offering  into  the  jungle  (E.  T.  Dalton,  Descriptive  Ethnology  of 
Bengal,  1S72,  p.  46). 

(c)  Expulsion  of  spirits  by  flagellation. — Especi- 
ally in  the  case  of  attacks  of  the  hysterical  kind, 
the  patient  is  soundly  beaten,  until  the  demon 
speaks  through  him  or  her,  and  promises  to  depart. 

'  I  f  the  devil  should  prove  an  obstinate  one  and  refuse  to  leave, 
charm  they  never  so  wisely,  his  retreat  may  generally  be 
hastened  by  the  vigorous  application  of  a  slipper  or  broom  to 
the  shoulders  of  the  possessed  person,  the  operator  taking  care 
to  use  at  the  same  time  the  most  scurrilous  language  he  can 
think  of '  (Bishop  R.  Caldwell,  writing  of  the  Tinnevelly  Shanars, 
in  Ziegenbalg,  164).  In  the  Deccan  one  plan  of  scaring  a  demon 
is  for  the  exorcist  to  take  the  posseased  person  before  an  idol, 
geize  him  by  the  top-knot,  and  scourge  and  abuse  him  until  the 
Bhuta  says  what  offering  or  penance  will  satisfy  him  (BG  xviii. 
pt.  1.  292).  The  tortures  inflicted  on  supposed  witches  and 
other  possessed  persons  have  resulted  in  death  or  serious 
injury  (NIJVQ  iii.  202  f.  ;  N.  Chevers,  Manual  o/  Medical  Juris- 
prudence for  India,  1870,  p.  646 ff.;  for  further  accounts  of 
exorcism  by  flagellation,  see  Crooke,  i.  99, 155  f.,  ii.  34  ;  cf.  Frazer, 
GB%  iii.  127  ff.,  216  ff.).  In  Car  Nicobar  true  ceremonial  murders 
of  men,  women,  and  even  children  have  been  performed  for  the 
public  benefit  by  organized  bodies,  because  the  victims  are  con- 
sidered dangerous  or  obnoxious  to  the  community ;  the  mur- 
dered persons  are  charged  with  possession  by  an  evil  spirit  as 
illustrated  by  their  propensity  to  witchcraft,  incendiarism, 
homicide,  failure  to  cure  diseases,  or  theft ;  but  the  root  cause 
is  that  the  victim  is  believed  to  be  possessed  by  a  demon,  and 
hence  dangerous;  his  limbB  are  broken,  he  is  strangled,  and  his 
corpse  is  flung  into  the  sea  (Sir  R.  Temple,  210). 

(d)  Expulsion  of  disease  spirits. — The  evil  spirits 
most  generally  feared  are  those  which  bring  disease. 
To  their  agency  are  attributed  epidemics  in  gene- 
ral, especially  cholera,  plague,  or  smallpox,  and 
maladies  which  are  unforeseen  or  those  which  indi- 
cate spirit  possession,  such  as  fits,  fever,  rheu- 
matism, colic,  and  the  like.  Such  spirits  are  often 
got  rid  of  by  transference,  the  spirit  being  com- 
pelled or  induced  to  remove  to  another  village  or  to 
some  distant  place. 

In  the  Panjab,  if  the  fever  spirit  be  detected,  the  officiant 
goes  at  night  to  a  graveyard,  brings  home  some  earth,  lays  it 
near  the  patient,  and  next  day  suspends  a  string  from  an  acacia 
tree,  on  which  it  is  believed  that  the  spirit  hangs  itself ;  or  a 
string  is  wound  in  seven  strands  from  toe  to  head  of  the 
patient,  and  then  it  is  tied  round  the  tree,  in  the  hope  of  con- 
ciliating the  tree  spirit  which  causes  the  fever  spirit  to  depart 
(PNQ  i.  40).  In  Upper  Burma,  when  children  fall  ill,  an  egg, 
some  of  the  child's  hair,  and  some  sweetmeats  are  placed  on  a 
little  boat  and  consigned  to  the  river,  which  carries  away  the 
spirit ;  by  a  later  conception  this  is  supposed  to  be  an  offering 
to  the  water  Nat  or  spirit  (Gazetteer,  ii.  pt.  i.  29  f.  ;  cf.  Frazer, 
GBi  iii.  97 ff.,  105  f.).  A  very  common  method  is  to  convey  the 
disease  by  means  of  a  scape-animal  from  the  infected  area.  In 
Berar  the  cholera  spirit  is  expelled  by  yoking  a  plough,  and 
driving  it  round  the  village  to  form  a  sacred  circle,  which 
foreign  and  hostile  spirits  cannot  pass;  a  fowl  and  a  goat  are 
sacrificed  and  buried  in  the  ground,  and  near  them  the  beam  and 


plough-yoke  are  fixed,  daubed  with  red  lead,  and  worshipped  ; 
a  care  is  then  dragged  containing  the  image  of  Mari,  the  disease 
goddess,  from  her  shrine,  to  the  village  boundary,  where  the 
image  is  worshipped,  and  a  buffalo  calf  is  sacrificed  and  buried 
(NIi\Q  iv.  206  f.).  In  the  Telugu  country  the  scape-animal  is  a 
buffalo,  and,  as  the  image  of  the  goddess  is  carried  in  procession, 
people  flourish  sticks,  swords,  or  spears,  and  cut  up  limes  and 
throw  them  into  the  air  in  order  to  induce  the  hungry  spirits  to 
seize  them  and  thus  be  diverted  from  attacking  the  man  who 
bears  the  image  (Bull.  Madr.  Mus.  v.  130). 

7.  Possession  by  spirits  of  the  exorcist. — The 
exorcism  of  evil  spirits  by  a  professional  exorcist 
has  been  reduced  to  a  system,  and  prevails  widely 
in  all  parts  of  the  country,  particularly  in  S.  India. 
In  N.  India  the  medium  is  known  as  Bhagat  (Skr. 
bhakti,  l  fervent  faith '),  Syana,  '  the  wise  one,' 
Ojha  (Skr.  upadhydya,  'teacher') ;  among  the  hill 
tribes  of  Central  India  as  Baiga,  Bhomka,  Parihar, 
or  Demano  ;  in  the  Deccan  as  Janta,  '  the  knowing 
one,5  or  Devrishi,  ■  holy  saint.'  He  is  distinguished 
from  the  Mantrl,  who  learns  by  orthodox  methods 
the  charm  formulae  (mantra)  from  a  teacher  (guru), 
by  the  fact  that  he  does  not  undergo  special  train- 
ing, but  works  through  the  inspiration  of  a  familiar 
spirit  or  guardian,  which  enters  him  when  he  works 
himself  up  into  the  proper  state  of  ecstasy.  This 
ecstatic  state  occurs  on  various  occasions  and  for 
various  purposes.  His  special  province  is  the  ex- 
pulsion of  various  kinds  of  disease  ;  hut  he  also 
becomes  possessed  at  death  rites,  when  he  identifies 
and  announces  the  pleasure  of  the  spirit,  at  name- 
fixing,  when  he  decides  the  proper  name  of  the 
child,  and  at  other  domestic  and  religious  rites. 
The  medium  in  his  ecstatic  state  is  seized  with 
revolting  cramp-like  contortions  and  muscular 
quivering,  head-wagging,  and  frantic  dancing, 
which  usually  end  in  complete  or  partial  insensi- 
bility. When  Sir  C.  A.  Elliott  witnessed  a  seance, 
'the  man  did  not  literally  revolve;  he  covered  his  head  well 
up  in  his  cloth,  leaving  space  over  the  head  for  the  god  to  come 
to ;  and  in  this  state  he  twisted  and  turned  himself  about 
rapidly,  and  soon  sank  exhausted.  Then,  from  the  pit  of  his 
stomach,  he  uttered  words  which  the  bystanders  interpreted  to 
direct  a  certain  line  of  conduct  for  the  sick  man  to  pursue.  But 
perhaps  the  occasion  was  not  a  fair  test,  as  the  Parihar  strongly 
objected  to  the  presence  of  an  unbeliever,  on  the  pretence  that 
the  god  was  afraid  to  come  before  so  great  a  hakim  [official] ' 
(Settlement  Rep.  Hoshangabad,  1S67,  p.  120).  Compare  the 
account  by  Capt.  W.  L.  Samuells,  in  Dalton,  232  f.,  quoted  above, 
vol.  ii.  p.  488  f. 

(a)  Tabus  imposed  upon  the  medium. — The 
medium  is  subject  to  numerous  tabus. 

The  god  *  would  leave  his  head  '  if  either  a  cow  or  a  Brahman 
attended  the  rites,  thus  proving  their  non-Aryan  origin.  The 
Kota  medium  must  not  speak  directly  to  his  wife  or  to  any  other 
woman  for  three  months  before  the  rite  ;  he  may  not  sleep  on  a 
mat  or  blanket ;  at  the  feast  he  must  have  no  congress  with  his 
wife  (Thurston,  iv.  10  f.).  In  the  Deccan  he  loses  his  power  ii 
his  lamp  goes  out  while  he  is  eating,  and  thus  leaves  him  ex 
posed  to  demon  assault ;  if  he  happens  to  hear  a  menstruous 
woman  speak  ;  if  any  one  sweeps  his  room  ;  if  the  name  of  any 
spirit  is  mentioned.  Should  any  such  events  occur,  he  must 
atop  eating  and  fast  during  the  remainder  of  the  day.  He  must 
avoid  certain  vegetables  and  fruits,  and  must  never  eat  stale  or 
twice-cooked  food.  If  he  be  a  Musalman,  he  must  not  eat  a 
special  kind  of  millet,  or  food  cooked  by  a  menstruous  woman 
(BG  xxiv.  418). 

(b)  Methods  of  identifying  spirits  by  the  medium. 
— The  medium  uses  varied  methods  of  identifying 
the  spirit  which  has  seized  his  patient. 

In  the  Panjab  he  waves  corn  over  the  sick  person,  and,  making 
a  heap  for  each  suspected  demon,  keeps  on  dropping  grains 
that  on  which  the  last  falls  indicating  the  offender  (NINQ  i. 
128).  The  Berar  medium  hangs  a  string  over  a  wood  fire  and 
repeats  spells;  when  the  smoke  touches  the  string,  the  appro- 
priate formula  is  indicated  (PNQ  ii.  170).  The  Kachari  medium 
lays  out  thirteen  leaves,  each  assigned  to  a  special  god,  and, 
hanging  a  pendulum  from  his  thumb,  lets  it  move ;  when  it 
touches  a  particular  leaf,  that  deity  must  be  propitiated  (Dalton, 
85).  In  the  Gujarat  an  officiant  tied  charmed  threads  round 
the  house,  drove  a  charmed  iron  nail  into  the  ground  at  each 
corner  and  two  at  the  door  ;  the  house  was  purified  ;  a  Dev,  or 
orthodox  god,  was  installed,  and  before  his  image  was  placed  a 
drawn  sword,  a  lamp  lit  with  butter,  and  a  second  lit  with  oil, 
while  the  medium  continued  to  mutter  charms  for  forty-one 
days,  and  occasionally  visited  the  cremation  ground  to  make 
propitiatory  offerings  to  the  offended  spirit.  In  another  case  the 
spirit  was  actually  expelled,  and  buried  under  lime,  salt,  mustard, 
lead,  and  stones,  to  prevent  him  from  'walking' ;  and,  as  an 
additional  precaution,  a  charmed  iron  nail  was  driven  into  the 


606 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Indian) 


ground.  Fumigation  of  the  patient  with  the  smoke  of  pepper 
and  dogs'  dung,  as  a  means  of  inconveniencing  the  demon,  was 
also  recommended  (A.  K.  Forbes,  Mas  Mala,  p.  657  ff.). 

8.  Shamanism. — Such  methods  naturally  develop 
into  the  practices  which  have  been  roughly  classi- 
fied under  the  head  of  Shamanism  {q.v.),  though 
this  term  is  often  applied  to  demonology  in  gene- 
ral. Bishop  Caldwell  recognizes  various  points  of 
contact  between  the  systematized  methods  of 
exorcism  known  as  '  devil  dancing '  and  ■  devil 
driving '  in  S.  India  and  the  Shamanism  of  High 
Asia :  the  absence  in  both  of  a  recognized  priest- 
hood ;  the  recognition  of  a  Supreme  God  to  whom, 
as  he  is  too  kindly  to  do  them  harm,  little  worship 
is  offered  by  the  people  ;  the  absence  of  belief  in 
metempsychosis;  the  objects  of  Shamanistic  wor- 
ship being  not  gods,  but  demons,  which  are  re- 
garded as  cruel,  revengeful,  capricious,  and  are 
appeased  by  blood  sacrifices  and  wild  dances ;  the 
medium  exciting  himself  to  frenzy,  and  pretending, 
or  supposing  himself,  to  be  possessed  by  the  demon 
to  whom  worship  is  being  offered,  and  whilst  in  this 
state  communicating  to  those  who  consult  him  the 
information  he  has  received  (Dravid.  Gram.2,  1875, 
p.  580  ff.). 

Performances  of  this  kind  are  uncommon  in  N.  India,  except 
in  the  Himalaya  and  among  other  hill  and  forest  tribes.  In 
Kumaun,  when  a  person  believes  himself  to  be  possessed  by  a 
demon,  he  calls  his  friends  to  dance  it  away ;  the  dance  goes  on 
daily  for  as  long  as  six  months  in  some  cases,  and,  as  an  addi- 
tional precaution,  large  fires  are  kept  alight  (Oakley,  207  f.). 
When  the  Garos  do  devil-driving,  it  is  in  the  name  of  their  god 
Ivtlkama,  who  holds  in  his  hands  the  spirits  of  men  ;  sacrificial 
stones  are  erected  to  him,  and  are  smeared  with  the  blood  of 
the  animal  victim  (Playfair,  82).  The  methods  in  use  in  S. 
India,  where  the  system  has  been  more  fully  elaborated,  are  of 
the  same  kind,  and  need  not  be  more  fully  described.  The 
basis  of  the  performance  is  that  the  officiants,  in  dress,  weapons, 
and  ornaments,  impersonate  the  demon  whom  they  desire  to  pro- 
pitiate  and  cause  to  depart.  (See  illustrations  of  such  performers 
among  the  Parayans  and  Panana  of  Cochin,  in  A.  K.  Iyer,  i.  83, 
178.  Full  details  will  be  found  in  the  writings  of  Bishops  Cald- 
well and  Whitehouse  already  quoted,  and  in  A.  C.  Burnell, 
'The  Devil  Worship  of  the  Tulavas,'  I  A,  1894.) 

Blood-drinking. — The  most  loathsome  incident 
in  these  rites  is  when  the  medium,  in  order  to 
bring  himself  into  communion  with  the  deity  or 
demon,  and  thus  gain  inspiration,  drinks  the  blood 
of  the  sacrificed  victim. 

The  low-caste  Madiga  who  impersonates  the  demon  Viravesm 
or  Poturaja,  '  buffalo  king,' kills  the  sacrificial  goat  by  strangling 
it  with  his  teeth  and  tearing  the  throat  open  (Oppert,  461,  476). 
The  same  rite  is  performed  by  other  mediums  of  the  same 
class  (Bull.  Madr.  Mus.  v.  165  f.  ;  Thurston,  iv.  187;  A.  K.  Iyer, 
i.  311).  In  N.  India  similar  rites  are  found  among  the  Tantrik 
mediums,  as  when,  at  the  Bhairava  festival  in  Nepal,  a  band  of 
masked,  yelling  devils  beset  and  torture  the  buffalo  victim, 
drink  the  blood,  and  eat  pieces  of  the  raw,  bleeding  flesh  (PNQ 
iii.  165 ;  cf.  the  account  in  H.  A.  Oldfield,  Sketches  from  Nepal, 
1880,  ii.  345  &.).  In  some  cases  in  S.  India  the  victim  is  slightly 
wounded,  and  forced  to  eat  rice  soaked  in  its  own  blood  ;  if  it 
eats,  the  omen  is  good,  but  in  any  case  the  victim  is  slain  (Bull. 
Madr.  Mus.  v.  173).  The  blood  is  used  as  a  charm,  as  at 
Trichinopoly,  where  clothes  soaked  in  it  are  hung  on  the  eaves 
of  the  houses  to  protect  the  cattle  from  disease  ;  or  it  is  smeared 
on  the  doorposts  of  the  shrine,  or  collected  in  a  vessel  and  laid 
before  the  goddess  for  her  refreshment  (ib.  v.  173,  141,  164). 

9.  Worship  of  Guardians. — Particularly  in  S. 
India,  the  chief  reliance  for  protection  against 
demons  is  placed  in  the  Guardians.  These  are, 
first,  the  Gramadevata,  or  local  village-deities ; 
secondly,  the  leaders  of  the  hosts  of  evil  spirits, 
who,  by  appropriate  conciliation,  can  be  induced 
to  keep  their  demon  bands  under  control,  and 
prevent  them  from  doing  injury  to  mankind. 

(a)  The  Gramadevata.  —The  Gramadevata,  'gods  of  the 
village,'  or,  as  they  are  called  in  N.  India,  the  Dihwar  (with  the 
same  meaning),  are  generally  non-human  spirits,  though  their 
ranks  are  sometimes  recruited  from  those  of  human  origin. 
They  are  often  identified  with  the  Earth  Mother  or  with  the 
wider  host  of  Mothers  (Mata),  the  worship  of  whom  prevails 
widely  in  W.  India.  (For  Mother-worship,  see  A.  Barth,  Me- 
ligions  of  India,  1SS2,  p.  202  n. ;  Bishop  Whitehouse,  in  Bull. 
Madr.  Mus.  v.  116  ff.  ;  Monier-Willianis,  Brahmanism  and 
Hinduism*,  1891,  p.  225  ff.)  The  connexion  of  this  worship  of 
the  female  powers  with  the  matriarchate  is  not  clearly  estab- 
lished in  India.  But  women  are  generally  supposed  to  be  more 
susceptible  than  men  to  spirit  influence,  and  are  mysterious 
beings  charged  with  supernatural  energy  (Westermarck,  i.  620, 
665  ff.).     Hence  we  find  women  participating  in  demon  propitia- 


tion. The  Oraons  believe  that  women,  known  as  Bisahi,  control 
the  terrible  Bhuta  known  as  Dayan.  The  woman  who  desires 
to  acquire  this  power  strips  off  her  clothes  (see  above,  vol.  iii. 
p.  447),  wears  a  girdle  of  broken  twigs  taken  from  a  broom,  and 
goes  to  a  cave,  the  reBort  of  the  Dayan.  There  she  learns  spells 
(mantra),  and  at  each  seance  puts  a  stone  into  a  hole.  If  at  the 
end  of  a  year  the  hole  is  full,  she  has  become  an  expert,  and 
can  take  away  life  and  restore  it.  If  the  hole  be  only  partially 
full,  she  has  the  power  only  of  taking  away  life.  Every  year 
she  is  obliged  to  sacrifice  a  black  cat  and  pour  its  blood  into  the 
hole.  She  and  the  Dayan  alone  can  set  the  Bhuta  in  action, 
and  to  these  all  diseases  are  attributed.  When  a  child  dies,  any 
Bisahi  in  the  village  is  charged  with  causing  the  death  (MASB 
I.  144). 

As  examples  of  these  village  guardians  we  have  Chandki  or 
Chandkai,  the  low-caste  Hindu  guardian  in  the  Deccan;  who 
lives  in  marshes  and  attacks  children.  To  appease  her  an  image 
is  made  of  earth  taken  from  the  banks  of  a  river  ;  offerings  are 
made  to  it,  and  it  is  finally  thrown  into  water  (BG  xxiv.  416). 
The  field  guardian  of  the  Reddis  of  Bijapur  lives  in  a  stone 
under  a  sacred  tree,  which  is  smeared  with  red  lead,  and  offer- 
ings are  made  before  beginning  ploughing  (ib.  xxui.  147). 
Darha  is  the  guardian  of  the  Birhors  of  Bengal,  and  is  repre- 
sented by  a  piece  of  bamboo  stuck  slantwise  into  the  ground 
(Risley,  L  138).  Naturally  Buch  village  guardians  are  often 
embodied  in  the  boundary  stone.  The  chief  object  of  worship 
of  the  Dangs  of  Khandesh  is  Simaria  Dev,  the  boundary  god, 
the  Sewanriya  of  the  Bhuiyars  (BG  xii.  601 ;  Crooke,  TO  ii.  93). 
The  worship  of  boundaries  (simanta-puja)  is  part  of  the  ortho- 
dox marriage  rite  (BG  xviii.  pt.  i.  129).  In  Tanjore  theEllai-kal, 
or  boundary  stone,  is  the  subject  of  remarkable  worship  (Bull. 
Madr.  Mus.  v.  117  f.,  166 f.). 

(6)  The  demon  Guardians. — In  S.  India  the  chief  of, these  is 
Aiyanar,  '  honourable  father,'  or,  as  he  is  also  called,  Sasta  or 
Sastra,  '  ruler '  (Oppert,  505).  Mounted  on  a  horse  or  elephant, 
he  rides  sword  in  hand  over  hill  and  dale  to  clear  the  land  from 
evil  spirits ;  any  one  who  meets  him  and  his  demon  troop  dies 
at  once ;  when  he  is  not  riding,  he  appears  as  a  red-coloured 
man,  wearing  a  crown,  with  lines  of  sacred  ashes  (vibhuti)  on 
his  forehead,  and  richly  dressed  ;  he  has  two  wives,  Purannai 
and  Pudkalai,  who  are  worshipped  with  him  (Oppert,  505  ;  Ball. 
Madr.  Mus.  v.  118 ;  A.  K.  Iyer,  i.  312  f.).  In  the  Himalaya  the 
demons  go  about  on  horses,  in  litters,  or  on  foot,  led  by  Bho- 
lanath ;  death  seizes  any  one  meeting  them ;  Airl  patrols  the 
land  with  his  dogs  (JASBe,  1848,  p.  609  ;  Crooke,  i.  262  f.,  280 ; 
cf.  the  European  legend  of  the  Wild  Huntsman,  the  Orion  of 
Greek  legend,  Wuotan  of  Germany  [Frazer,  Pausan.  v.  82 ; 
Grimm,  iii.  918 ff.,  941  f.]). 

The  Deccan  guardian  is  Vetala,  who  also  appears  as  a  goblin 
tenanting  dead  bodies  (see  the  Vetala-paflchavin&atika  included 
in  Somadeva,  Kathd-sarit-sagara,  tr.  C.  H.  Tawney ;  and  Sir 
R.  Burton,  Vikram  and  the  Vampire,  1870).  He  is  represented 
in  human  form,  but  his  hands  and  feet  are  turned  backwards, 
his  eyes  tawny  green,  his  hair  standing  on  end  ;  he  holds  a  cane 
in  his  right  hand  and  a  conch-shell  in  hiB  left ;  when  he  goes  his 
rounds,  he  is  dressed  in  green,  and  sits  in  a  litter  or  rides  a 
horse,  while  his  attendants  follow,  holding  lighted  torches  and 
shouting  (BG  xviii.  pt.  i.  291,  xxiv.  415).  In  the  villages,  as  a 
guardian,  he  occupies  a  stone  smeared  with  red  paint,  the  top 
roughly  carved  into  a  man's  face ;  but  more  usually  he  resides 
in  the  pre-historic  stone  circles  scattered  over  the  hills,  the 
centre  stone  representing  the  demon,  and  the  surrounding 
pillars  his  attendants  (ib.  xviii.  pt.  i.  291,  553,  pt.  iii.  347,  388, 
xxiv.  415). 

Like  him  is  Bhairava  or  Bhairon,  who  seems  to  be  in  origin 
an  old  earth-god,  the  consort  of  the  Mother.  In  his  form  as 
Kal  Bhairava  he  cures  diseases  caused  by  demons  (ib.  xi.  461, 
xiv.  73,  xviii.  pt.  i.  289).  As  Bahiroba  he  is  widely  revered,  and 
the  Dhangars  of  Satara  bury  his  image  with  the  rich  men  of  the 
tribe  to  protect  them  from  evil  Bpirits  (ib.  xi.  461,  xiv.  73, 
xix.  105). 

In  N.  India,  where  the  belief  in  demons  is  less  intense,  tht 
local  village-deities,  and,  in  particular,  Hanuman,  the  monkey- 
god,  are  installed  as  guardians  at  the  foundation  of  every 
settlement. 

10.  Periodical  or  occasional  expulsion  of  evil 
spirits. — The  periodical  or  occasional  expulsion  of 
evil  spirits  is  as  common  among  many  Indian  tribes 
as  it  is  among  other  primitive  races  (Frazer,  GB'1 
iii.  39 ff.). 

This  is  often  done  at  the  close  of  the  harvest  season,  which  is 
regarded  as  a  period  of  licence.  About  harvest  time  the  Karenni 
of  Upper  Burma  take  a  piece  of  smouldering  wood  from  the 
house  fire,  place  it  on  a  bamboo,  and  carry  it  ceremonially  out- 
side the  village ;  they  are  unable  or  unwilling  to  explain  the 
object  of  the  rite,  but  they  say  that  it  keeps  off  fever  and  other 
sickness  from  the  house  (Gazetteer,  i.  pt.  i.  530).  Among  the 
Taungthas  of  the  E.  frontier  there  is  a  general  cleaning  up  of 
the  village  after  an  epidemic,  the  place  being  surrounded  with 
a  cordon  of  fresh-spun  white  threads,  and  the  blood  of  sacrificed 
animals  scattered  (T.  H.  Lewin,  Wild  Maces  of  S.E.  India,  1870, 
p.  196  f.).  The  people  of  Lower  Burma  expel  the  cholera  demon 
by  scrambling  on  the  house  roofs,  laying  about  them  with 
bamboos  and  billets  of  wood,  drum-beating,  trumpet-blowing, 
yells,  and  screams  (C.  J.  F.  S.  Forbes,  British  Burma,  1878,  p. 
233  ;  Shway  Yoe,  The  Burman,  1882,  L  282,  ii.  105  ff.).  Similar 
harvest-rites  are  found  among  the  Ho  and  Mundari  tribes  in 
Bengal  and  those  of  the  N.W.  frontier  (Dalton,  196  f . ;  J.  Bid- 
dulph.  Tribes  of  the  Bindoo  Koosh,  1880,  p.  103).    At  the  annual 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Indian) 


607 


Maler  feast  the  priest  scatters  rice  ;  all  persons  supposed  to  be 
possessed  with  devils  scramble  for  it,  and  are  finally  cured  by 
drinking  the  blood  of  a  sacrificed  buffalo  (Dalton,  270).  The 
Kandhs  practise  a  similar  rite  at  seed-time  (\V.  Macpherson, 
Memorials  of  Service,  1SG5,  p.  357  f.).  In  Bengal,  during  the 
Holi  spring  festival,  people  light  torches  and  fling  them  over 
the  boundary  of  the  next  village,  the  custom  often  giving  rise 
to  riots  (PNQ  iv.  201).  Even  among  many  of  the  higher  castes, 
like  the  Prabhus  of  Bombay,  in  order  to  expel  evil  spirits  at  a 
marriage,  a  servant  rises  early  and  sweeps  the  house,  gathers 
the  sweepings  into  a  basket,  lays  on  it  an  old  broom,  a  light, 
some  betel,  and  four  copper  coins,  and  waving  the  basket  before 
each  room  says  :  '  May  evil  go,  and  Bali's  kingdom  come  I '  She 
then  drives  the  master  of  the  house  to  the  door,  and,  warning 
him  not  to  look  back,  places  the  sweepings  on  the  roadside  and 
brings  back  the  coins  (BG  xviii.  pt.  i.  252  f.).  In  Upper  India 
the  Divali,  or  feast  of  lights,  is  the  occasion  for  observances  of 
the  same  kind,  the  lamps  scaring  demons,  and  a  regular  rite  of 
scaring  poverty  or  ill-luck  from  the  house  being  performed  (I A 
xxxii.  [1903]  237  ff. ;  NINQ  v.  125;  Crooke,  li.  ISSf.,  296  f.). 
Often  these  rites  take  the  form  of  a  mock  combat  or  a  tug  of 
war,  in  which  one  party  represents  the  good,  and  the  other  the 
evil,  spirits,  arrangements  being  made  that  the  former  shall  be 
victorious.  The  Burmese  Nats  are  propitiated  by  a  tug  of  war, 
the  victorious  side  being  supposed  to  get  better  crops  ;  and  if, 
after  the  contest,  rain  happens  to  fall,  the  efficacy  of  the  appeal 
iB  placed  beyond  question  ;  this  is  also  done  in  seasons  of  drought 
(Gazetteer  Upper  Burma,  ii.  pt.  ii.  95,  279,  iii.  pt.  ii.  64).  Among 
the  Aos  of  Assam,  at  a  festival  held  in  August,  there  are  tugs  of 
war  lasting  for  three  days  between  the  young  men  and  un- 
married girlB  of  each  clan  (khel)  (E.  A.  Gait,  Census  Rep.  Assam, 
1891,  i.  244).  In  Ahmadnagar,  in  April-May,  the  boys  of  one 
village  fight  with  slings  and  stones  against  those  of  another  ;  it 
is  believed  that  the  non-observance  of  the  rite  causes  failure  of 
rain,  or,  if  rain  falls,  a  plague  of  field  rats  ;  a  fight  duly  waged 
is  followed  by  plentiful  rainfall  (BG  xvii.  722  f .  ;  cf .  the  Greek 
Ai8o0oA.i'a  and  aitrxpokoyia  [Farnell,  CGS  iii.  93,  99;  J.  E. 
Harrison,  Prolegomena,  1903,  p.  155  ;  Crooke,  ii.  320  f.]). 

11.  Gaining  control  of  a  demon. — In  the  rites  of 
Black  Magic,  a  demon,  if  he  can  be  brought  under 
the  control  of  a  medium  or  magician,  plays  an  im- 
portant part ;  he  may  be  used  as  a  protector  by  his 
master,  or  his  owner  may  let  him  loose  to  work 
mischief  on  those  whom  he  desires  to  injure.  The 
magician,  by  the  use  of  spells  (mantra),  can  often 
induce  him  to  enter  some  receptacle,  and  he  thus 
becomes  a  marketable  commodity. 

*  When  the  sale  of  a  Bhut  has  been  arranged,  the  Ojha  hands 
over  a  corked  bamboo  cylinder  which  is  supposed  to  contain  him. 
This  is  taken  to  the  place,  usually  a  tree,  where  it  is  intended 
that  he  should  in  future  reside  ;  a  small  ceremony  is  performed, 
liquor  being  poured  on  the  ground,  or  small  mounds  (pinf}d) 
erected  in  his  honour,  and  the  cork  is  then  taken  out,  whereupon 
the  Bhut  is  supposed  to  take  up  his  abode  in  the  place  chosen 
for  him.  His  function  is  to  watch  the  crops  and  guard  them 
from  thieves,  and,  if  any  one  should  be  hardy  enough  to  steal 
from  a  field  thus  guarded,  he  is  certain  to  be  stricken  by  the 
Bhut,  and  in  a  few  days  will  sicken  and  die '  (E.  A.  Gait,  Census 
Hep,  Bengal,  1901,  i.  198).  Among  the  Pulluvans  of  Madras,  'a 
man  who  wishes  to  bring  a  demon  under  his  control  must  bathe 
in  the  morning  for  forty-one  days,  and  cook  his  own  meals. 
He  should  have  no  association  with  his  wife,  and  be  free  from 
all  pollution.  Every  night,  after  10  o'clock,  he  should  bathe  in 
a  tank  or  river,  and  stand  naked  up  to  the  loins  in  water, 
while  praying  to  the  god  whom  he  wishes  to  propitiate,  in  the 
words :  "  I  offer  thee  my  prayers,  so  that  thou  mayst  bless  me 
with  what  I  want."  These,  with  his  thoughts  concentrated  on 
the  deity,  he  should  utter  101,  1001,  and  100,001  times  during 
the  period.  Should  he  do  this,  in  spite  of  all  obstacles,  and 
intimidation  by  the  demons,  the  god  will  grant  his  desires' 
(Thurston,  vi.  231).  In  Mysore,  among  the  Hasulas  and 
Maleyas,  jungle  tribes,  when  a  man  dies,  his  spirit  is  supposed 
to  be  stolen  by  some  one  else's  devil,  who  is  pointed  out  by  the 
astrologer,  who  divines  by  throwing  cowrie-shells  or  rice.  The 
heir,  then,  as  a  measure  of  precaution,  redeems  the  spirit  by 
offering  a  pig,  fowl,  or  other  gift ;  and  he  promptly  shuts  it  up 
in  a  pot,  where  it  is  periodically  supplied  with  drink  and  food 
to  prevent  it  from  '  walking '  and  doing  mischief  (B.  L.  Rice, 
Mysore,  1897,  i.  214  ;  cf.  '  The  Fisherman  and  the  Jinni,'  Sir  R. 
Burton,  Arabian  Nights,  1893,  i.  34  9.;  PNQ  ii.  170).  The 
power  of  a  demon  is  believed  to  rest  in  his  hair,  and,  if  a  man 
can  succeed  in  cutting  off  the  topknot  of  a  Bhut,  the  latter  will 
be  his  slave  for  life  (SINQ  iii.  ISO).  In  Travancore,  Kuttich- 
chattan,  the  boy  imp,  if  fed,  watches  the  property  of  his  owner  ; 
the  master  of  such  a  demon  possesses  infinite  powers  of  evil ;  but 
these,  if  wrongly  exercised,  recoil  upon  him,  and  cause  him  to 
die  childless  and  after  terrible  physical  and  mental  agony  (N. 
Subramhaniya  Aiyar,  Census  Rep.,  1901,  i.  303).  Siddharaja, 
the  great  Chalukya  king  of  W.  India,  is  said  to  have  performed 
his  acts  of  heroism  by  aid  of  a  demon  which  he  subdued  by 
riding  a  corpse  in  a  cemetery  (BG  i.  pt.  i.  174). 

12.  Relation  of  demonology  to  orthodox  re- 
ligion. —  From  Vedic  times  the  gods  ever  war 
against  the  demons  (A.  Macdonell,  156  ff'.).  Krsna 
slays  the  demoness  Putana ;  Trnavartta,  the 
whirlwind  demon;   Arista,  the  bull  demon;  Kesin, 


the  horse  demon  (F.  S.  Growse,  Mathura s,  188ri, 
pp.  55,  62).  Many  gods  and  goddesses  take  their 
cult-titles  from  their  conquest  of  demons  ;  Devi  as 
Mahisa-mardinI,  Indra  as  Vrtrahan,  Visnu  as 
Kaitabhajit  and  Madhusudana.  The  scenes  of 
these  ghostly  combats  are  still  shown,  like  the 
gloomy  cave  at  Yan  in  Kanara,  whence  Siva  dis- 
lodged the  demon  occupant ;  the  water  which  flows 
from  hot  springs  is  the  blood  of  the  Raksasas  slain 
by  some  deity,  or  such  wells  are  the  haunts  of 
demons  which,  if  not  conciliated,  bring  disease  (BG 
xv.  pt.  ii.  355,  xiv.  373  ;  L.  A.  "Waddell,  Among  the 
Himalayas,  1899,  p.  203).  This  opposition  between 
the  worker  by  magical  arts  and  the  priest  who 
works  by  the  aid  of  the  gods  is  one  of  the  primary 
facts  of  Hinduism  (Sir  A.  C.  Lyall,  Asiatic  Studies'', 
1907,  i.  101  ti'.).  Even  among  some  of  the  forest 
tribes  the  supremacy  of  the  god  over  the  demon  is 
admitted ;  but,  as  already  stated,  no  clear  dis- 
tinction can  be  drawn  between  god  and  demon. 
The  Oraons  believe  that  their  tutelary  deity,  Pat, 
controls  all  the  Bhuts,  except  the  Day  an ;  and  the 
Kannikans  of  Madras  will  not  worship  the  demon 
Chathan  at  Cranganore  because  he  is  a  rival  of  the 
local  orthodox  god  (MASB,  1906,  i.  142;  A.  K. 
Iyer,  i.  143). 

But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  this  opposition  between 
demonolatry  and  the  orthodox  religion  is  little 
more  than  nominal,  and  popular  Hinduism  consists 
of  a  veneer  of  the  higher  beliefs  overlying  demon- 
worship,  the  latter  being  so  closely  combined  with 
the  former  that  it  is  now  impossible  to  discriminate 
the  rival  elements.  This  combination  is  especially 
apparent  in  S.  India,  where  Brahmanism  appeared 
at  a  comparatively  recent  period  and  was  forced  to 
come  to  terms  with  the  local  Dravidian  beliefs.  In 
particular,  in  the  Tamil  districts,  the  demon  cultus 
has  been  elaborated  under  Brahman  guidance,  as  is 
shown  by  the  ceremonial  washing  of  demon  images, 
elaborate  processions  in  their  honour,  and  other 
forms  of  an  advanced  species  of  worship.  While 
the  original  Gramadevata  are,  as  a  rule,  female, 
here  their  male  consorts  tend  to  acquire  a  more 
prominent  position.  Aiyanar,  for  instance,  has  be- 
come entirely  independent,  occupies  a  shrine  of  his 
own,  and  has  a  special  festival,  and  sacrifices  are 
made  to  his  attendants,  Maduraivlran  and  Mun- 
adian.  As  a  concession  to  Brahman  feeling,  blood 
sacrifices  are  falling  into  abeyance,  and,  when  these 
are  offered  to  a  goddess,  she  is  often  veiled,  and  a 
curtain  is  drawn  during  the  blood-sacrifice  to 
Aiyanar,  or  the  offering  is  made  not  to  him  but  to 
one  of  his  attendants  (Bishop  Whitehead,  Bull. 
Madr.  Mus.  v.  160).  In  some  places  Brahmans 
are  beginning  to  act  as  priests  to  the  village  god- 
desses ;  but  the  slaying  of  victims  is  left  in  charge 
of  the  low-caste  priests  ;  and  Brahmans  who  serve 
in  village  shrines  are  regarded,  among  their  own 
body,  as  holding  a  distinctly  lower  position  than 
those  who  are  engaged  in  secular  pursuits  (ib. 
127  f. ).  The  fusion  of  the  two  faiths  usually  mani- 
fests itself  in  the  acceptance  by  the  orthodox  gods 
of  the  demons  as  their  followers  or  assistants. 
This  is  particularly  noticeable  in  the  Sakta  and 
Saiva  cultus,  Vaisnavism  having  little  sympathy 
with  the  cruder  rites  of  demonism.  The  village 
goddesses  tend  to  become  Saktis,  or  manifestations 
of  the  female  energy  of  Nature  ;  Siva  himself  has, 
as  one  of  his  cult-titles,  Bhutesvara  or  Bhutesa, 
'  lord  of  demons ' ;  his  son  Ganesa  or  Ganpati  takes 
his  name  as  lord  of  his  father's  attendant  demons 
(gana) ;  in  the  Karnatak,  Aiyanar  is  identified 
with  Harihara,  a  duplex  figure  embodying  Siva 
and  Visnu. 

The  corrupt  Mahayana  form  of  Buddhism  current 
in  Tibet  and  the  Himalaya  has  largely  adopted 
Shamanistic  beliefs,  drawn  from  the  Animistic 
devil-dancing  cults  of  the  Bon,  resembling  in  many 


608 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Jain) 


ways  the  Taoism  of  China,  and  reinforced  from 
Indian  Tantrik  beliefs  (L.  A.  Waddell,  Buddhism 
of  Tibet,  1895,  pp.  19,  34,  477  ;  Sir  H.  Yule,  Marco 
Polo,  1871,  ii.  61  f.). 

This  process  of  the  absorption  of  demonola- 
try  by  orthodox  Hinduism  naturally  results  in 
the  decrease  of  the  former,  as  intelligence,  educa- 
tion, and  the  active  missionary  efforts  of  the 
orthodox  priesthood  extend.  This  is  admitted  by 
several  native  writers.  One,  speaking  of  Bengal, 
states  that  the  numbers  of  the  Bhuts  have  largely 
been  reduced ;  fifty  years  ago  there  were  as  many 
millions  of  demons  as  there  are  men  at  the  present 
time  ;  characteristically,  he  seems  to  attribute  this 
reduction  in  numbers  to  the  facilities  now  offered 
by  railways  of  visiting  Gaya  and  other  places  for 
the  purpose  of  performing  the  obsequial  rites  which 
appease  the  angry  spirits  of  the  dead  (NINQ  iii. 
199).  From  Bombay  we  learn  that  in  Kolhapur 
some  of  the  most  dreaded  evil  spirits  have  recently 
disappeared — the  Brahman  ghosts  having  left  the 
country  because  they  dislike  the  cow-killing  per- 
mitted by  the  British  Government ;  the  Muham- 
madan  demons  because  pork  is  now  freely  eaten ; 
only  the  low-caste  spirits  are  left,  and  their  influ- 
ence has  become  much  reduced  [BG  xxiv.  421). 
Even  in  Cochin  and  Travancore,  the  homes  of 
demon-worship,  it  is  said  to  be  gradually  giving 
way  to  Hinduism,  as  represented  by  the  cults  of 
Siva,  Subrahmanya,  and  Ganpati  or  Ganesa  (A.  K. 
Iyer,  i.  311). 

Literature. — The  cults  of  the  demons  and  evil  spirits  of 
India  have  been  as  yet  imperfectly  studied,  because  many  of 
these  rites  are  repulsive,  and  performed  in  secret,  and  thus  do 
not  readily  come  under  the  observation  of  Europeans,  while  they 
are  offensive  to  many  students  of  Hinduism  belonging  to  the 
higher  and  learned  classes.  The  material,  which  is  of  great 
extent  and  complexity,  is  scattered  through  the  anthropo- 
logical literature  of  India,  some  of  which  has  been  quoted  in 
the  course  of  this  article.  It  is  most  abundant  in  S.  India. 
Much  information  will  be  found  in  the  Census  Reports ;  the 
Manual  of  the  Administration  of  the  Madras  Presidency, 
1885-93 ;  the  Bulletins  of  the  Madras  Museum ;  the  District 
Manuals,  esp.  that  by  W.  Logan  on  Malabar,  1887  ;  general 
treatises,  such  as  E.  Thurston,  Castes  and  Tribes  of  S.  India, 
1909;  V.  N.  Aiya,  Travancore  State  Manual,  1906;  B.  L. 
Rice,  Mysore,  1897  ;  F.  Buchanan,  A  Journey  through  Mysore, 
Canara,  and  Malabar,  1807 ;  L.  K.  Anantha  Krishna  Iyer, 
The  Cochin  Tribes  and  Castes,  vol.  i.  (all  published),  1909 ;  P. 
Percival,  The  Land  of  the  Veda,  1854  ;  S.  Mateer,  The  Land  of 
Charity,  1871 ;  R.  Caldwell,  Compar.  Gram,  of  the  Dravidian  or 
South-Indian  Family  of  Languages^,  1875,  in  which  and  in 
B.  Ziegenbalg,  Genealogy  of  the  South-Indian  Gods,  1869,  the 
work  of  the  former  writer  on  the  Shanars  of  Tinneveily  is  re- 
produced ;  G.  Oppert,  The  Original  Inhabitants  of  Bharata- 
varsa  or  India,  1893  ;  Sir  M.  Monier- Williams,  Brah-manism 
and  Hinduism*,  1891;  in  A.  K.  Forbes,  Rds  Mala,  1878,  is 
reproduced  the  Bhoot  Nibundh  or  the  Destroyer  of  Supersti- 
tions regarding  Daimons,  by  Trivedi  Dalpatram  Daya,  issued  in 
an  Eng.  tr.  in  1850.  To  these  may  be  added  special  mono- 
graphs, such  as  P.  Dehon,  S.J.,  '  Religion  and  Customs  of  the 
Uraons,'  in  Mem.  As.  Soc.  Bengal,  i.  (1906);  A.  C.  Burnell, 
The  Devil  Worship  of  the  Tulavas,  reprinted  from  I  A,  1894; 
H.  Whitehead,  'The  Village  Deities  of  Southern  India,'  in 
Bull.  Madr.  Mus.  v.  (1907) ;  M.  J.  Walhouse,  '  On  the  Belief 
in  Bhutas — Devil  and  Ghost  Worship  in  Western  India,'  in  JAI 
v.  (1876)  408.  W.  CROOKE. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Jain).— Super- 
human beings,  according  to  the  Jains,  fall  into 
two  categories — the  denizens  of  hell  (narakas), 
and  the  gods  (devas).  A  sub-division  of  the  latter 
distinguishes  good  and  bad  gods  {daivi,  and  asuri 
gati) ;  the  bad  gods  are  also  spoken  of  as  kudevas 
or  kadamaras.  Demons  would  come  under  the  two 
heads  narakas  and  kudevas,  and  ghosts  under  that 
of  kudevas.  It  must,  however,  be  kept  in  mind 
that,  according  to  the  Jains,  neither  the  state  of  a 
god  nor  that  of  a  demon  is  permanent,  but  both 
have  their  individually  fixed  duration,  which  may 
extend  to  many  '  oceans  of  years.'  The  state  which 
a  soul  may  attain  in  the  scale  of  beings  and  the 
duration  of  this  state — his  individual  lot — depend 
on  the  merits  and  demerits  (karma)  of  the  soul ; 
when  the  allotted  time  is  over,  the  soul  will  be 
re-born  in  some  other  state  according  to  his  karma. 


A  god  may  be  re-born  as  a  hell-being,  but  the 
latter  will  be  re-born  as  an  animal  or  a  man  only. 

The  narakas,  or  hell-beings,  have  a  demoniacal 
nature,  but  they  cannot  leave  the  place  where  they 
are  condemned  to  live,  nor  can  they  do  harm  to 
any  other  beings  than  their  fellow  narakas.  The 
souls  of  those  who  have  committed  heinous  sins 
are  on  death  removed  in  a  few  moments  (see 
Death  and  Disposal  of  the  Dead  [Jain])  to 
one  of  the  seven  nether  worlds  which  contain  the 
different  hells  (see  Cosmogony  and  Cosmology 
[Indian],  §  4).  There  the  soul  of  the  condemned  i3 
fitted  out  with  an  enormous  body  of  a  loathsome 
shape  comparable  to  that  of  a  plucked  fowl.  The 
hell-beings  possess  superhuman  mental  powers 
(avadhi) ;  they  avail  them,  however,  only  to  find 
out  their  enemies  and  to  fight  each  other.  In 
addition  to  the  pains  produced  by  the  wounds  they 
inflict  on  one  another  and  by  the  tortures  they 
have  to  undergo  in  some  hells,  the  hell-beings 
continually  sutler  from  extreme  heat  or  cold,  the 
intolerable  stink,  and  the  horrid  sounds  which 
prevail  in  the  hells,  and  they  can  never  appease 
their  hunger  and  thirst.  The  narakas  do  not 
die,  however  much  they  are  mangled  ;  but  their 
wounds  close  at  once  like  a  furrow  in  water. 
They  die  at  their  allotted  time  after  a  miserable 
life,  which  may  extend,  in  the  lowest  hell,  to  33 
oceans  of  years. 

The  remaining  demons  and  the  ghosts  are  con- 
tained in  the  two  lowest  sub-divisions  of  the  gods  : 
the  bhavanavasins  or  bhaumeyakas,  and  the  vyan- 
taras.  The  lowest  class  of  the  bhavanavasins  (i.e. 
gods  who  live  in  palaces)  are  the  asurakumdras  or 
simply  asuras.  They  reside  in  mansions  of  their 
own  below  the  surface  of  the  earth,  in  the  upper 
half  of  Ratnaprabha,  the  highest  of  the  seven 
nether  worlds.  As  in  Hindu  mythology,  the 
asuras  may  be  good  or  bad  ;  but  there  are  fifteen 
extremely  wicked  asuras — Ambarisa,  etc. — who 
administer  tortures  in  the  three  uppermost  hells ; 
in  a  former  life  they  had  delighted  in  wanton 
cruelty.  The  remaining  classes  of  bhavanavasins, 
nagas,  etc.,  seem  to  be  demi-gods  rather  than 
demons. 

The  vyantaras  include  demons,  goblins,  ghosts, 
and  spirits,  who  live  on,  above,  or  below  the  earth. 
They  are  divided  into  eight  classes,  viz.  kinnaras, 
kimpurusas,  niahoragas,  gandharvas,  yalcsas,  rak- 
sasas,  bhutas,  and  piiachas,  all  of  which  occur 
almost  identically  in  Hindu  mythology.  The  last 
four  classes  contain  demons  and  ghosts,  but  they 
are  not  demoniacal  as  a  whole.  There  are  even 
among  the  ralcsasas  good  ones,  adorers  of  the 
tirthakaras,  who  may  take  dlksa,  etc.  In  narra- 
tives the  demoniacal  character  is  usually  indicated 
by  an  epithet,  e.g.  dusta-vyantara.  Generally 
speaking,  the  notions  of  the  Jains  on  demons, 
ghosts,  etc.,  are  very  much  the  same  as  those  of 
the  other  Hindus ;  but  the  position  of  the  super- 
human beings  has  been,  in  many  regards,  altered 
by  the  efforts  of  the  Jains  to  introduce  systematical 
order  into  the  mythological  conceptions  current  at 
the  time  when  their  religious  teachings  were  re- 
duced to  a  definite  form. 

Literature. — Umasvati's  Tattvdrthddhigama  Sutra,  chs.  3 
and  4  (tr.  ZDMG  Lx.  [1906]  309  ff.) ;  Vinayavijaya's  Lokaprakdia, 
1906,  9th  and  10th  sargas.  H.   JACOBI. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Japanese).— I. 
Ghosts. — '  The  difficulty,'  says  a  Japanese  writer, 
'  of  collecting  materials  for  an  article  about  ghosts 
is  that  there  are  so  many  of  them.'  Ghosts 
and  ghost-stories  are  too  numerous  to  admit  of 
tabulation  or  classification.  There  are  certain 
traditional  forms  which  they  are  supposed  to 
assume.  They  are  mostly  of  the  female  sex,  are 
clad   in   white    flowing   robes   vhich   conceal  the 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Japanese) 


609 


absence  of  legs,  and  dishevelled  hair  hangs  loosely 
over  their  shoulders.  As  a  rule  they  are  supposed 
to  bear  some  resemblance  to  the  living  original, 
but  this  is  not  invariably  the  case.  The  ghosts 
of  the  wicked  bear  on  themselves  the  marks  of 
the  punishments  they  are  enduring  in  the  invis- 
ible world :  they  appear  with  one  eye,  or  three 
eyes,  with  a  long  tongue  protruding  beyond  their 
lips,  or  with  a  long  flexible  neck  like  that  of  a 
serpent.  These  corporeal  peculiarities  are  sup- 
posed to  be  the  results  of  the  karma  of  a  previous 
existence.  The  Japanese  ghost  is  not  generally 
malicious  :  there  are  times,  however,  when  he  can 
exhibit  an  amazing  amount  of  perverse  and  wicked 
ingenuity. 

Dr.  T.  Inouye,  who  has  devoted  much  thought 
to  the  question  of  ghosts,  summarizes  their  appear- 
ances as  follows.  (1)  They  are  commonly  seen  in 
the  twilight  or  at  dead  of  night  when  everything 
is  black  and  indistinct.  They  appear,  (2)  as  a  rule, 
in  lonely  or  solitary  places  ;  or  (3)  in  houses  recently 
visited  by  death,  or  that  have  long  been  deserted, 
in  shrines,  temples,  graveyards,  or  among  the 
shadows  of  willow-trees.  It  is  very  rarely  that  a 
ghost  appears  to  a  group  of  persons ;  apparitions 
are  mostly  vouchsafed  to  single  individuals,  and 
especially  to  persons  out  of  health,  feeble  in  body 
and  mind,  dehcient  in  knowledge,  and  impression- 
able. There  is  nothing  specially  new  in  Inouye's 
conclusions  :  they  are  given  here  to  show  that  the 
Japanese  ghost  is  very  much  what  the  ghost  is 
supposed  to  be  elsewhere. 

2.  Warnings  of  approaching  death. — It  is  com- 
mon among  temple  folk  in  Japan  to  say  that  at  the 
moment  of  death  the  soul  will  often  go  to  the 
temple  to  give  notice  of  its  death.  On  such  occa- 
sions, a  jingling  or  rattling  sound  is  heard  by  the 
temple-gate  or  in  the  main  hall  of  worship,  and  it 
is  held  that  whenever  these  sounds  are  heard  they 
are  invariably  followed  by  the  announcement  that 
a  parishioner,  male  or  female,  has  died.  The  man 
from  whom  the  present  writer  obtained  his  informa- 
tion warned  him  that  these  stories  must  not  be 
looked  upon  as  mere  idle  tales.  The  thing  is  of 
constant  occurrence,  now  as  in  the  past.  Two 
stories  from  Tono  Monogatari  will  illustrate  this 
point. 

A  certaiD  rich  parishioner  of  a  temple  in  the  township  of 
Tono,  in  the  province  of  Rikuchu,  had  long  been  confined  to  his 
bed  with  a  disease  which  was  known  to  be  incurable.  One  day, 
however,  the  incumbent  of  the  temple  was  surprised  to  receive 
a  visit  from  the  sick  man,  who  was  welcomed  with  the  greatest 
cordiality,  and  regaled  with  tea  and  cakes.  After  a  long  and 
pleasant  conversation,  the  visitor  rose  to  take  his  leave.  A 
novice  followed  him  to  the  front  gate.  The  old  man,  passing 
through  it,  turned  suddenly  to  the  right  and  disappeared 
mysteriously  from  sight.  The  servitors  in  the  temple  were  in 
the  meantime  making  the  discovery  that  the  cakes  had  been 
left  untouched  and  the  tea  spilled  on  the  mats.  Several  persons 
afterwards  asserted  that  they  had  seen  the  old  gentleman  walk- 
ing mysteriously  down  the  street.  The  man  died  that  evening, 
and  the  family  maintained  that  he  had  been  lying  unconscious 
on  his  bed  all  day.  The  spilling  of  the  tea  is  characteristic  of 
many  of  these  stories  :  it  seems  to  be  the  proper  thing  for  the 
Japanese  ghostB  to  do. 

Another  very  pretty  story  cornea  from  the  lonely  mountain 
village  of  Shimo  Niigawa,  on  the  banks  of  the  Karobe  in  Etchiu. 
The  wife  of  a  carrier,  living  with  her  husband  and  son,  near  to 
a  mineral  spring,  fell  into  the  river,  as  she  was  returning  after 
dark  on  a  moonless  night  from  the  spring,  and  was  drowned. 
Husband  and  son  were  awaiting  her  return  at  home,  very 
anxious  because  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour.  Finally,  they  con- 
cluded that,  owing  to  the  darkness,  she  had  decided  to  stay  the 
night  somewhere,  and  would  return  the  next  morning.  As  the 
boy  lay  dozing  on  his  bed  he  was  awakened  by  something  tugging 
at  his  hand.  Seeing  nothing,  he  went  to  sleep  again.  But  the 
tug  at  his  hand  came  again,  and  the  touch  was  like  that  of  his 
mother's  hand.  Then  he  called  his  father,  and,  striking  a  light, 
found  that  the  place  upon  which  the  strange  fingers  had  closed 
was  covered  with  blood.  The  next  morning  his  mother's  dead 
body  was  found  among  the  rocks  in  the  river  bed.  The  palm  of 
her  hand  was  all  torn  and  bleeding.  Evidently,  in  her  fall,  she 
had  made  a  wild  grab  at  some  stone  or  tree,  and  injured  it. 

3.  The  limbs  of  a  ghost. — While  the  common 
ghost,  and  especially  the  stage-ghost,  is  generally 

VOL.  IV. — 39 


conceived  as  a  head  and  shoulders  ending  off  in 
vague  draperies,  the  following  story  of  the  Haunted 
House  of  Yotsuya  will  show  that  underneath  the 
vague  draperies  a  real  man  is  supposed  to  exist. 

The  house  in  this  story  was  haunted  by  a  troublesome  and 
noisy  ghost  who  allowed  the  inmates  no  rest  at  night.  The  land- 
lord could  find  no  tenant  though  the  rent  was  ridiculously  low. 
At  last  a  man,  tempted  by  the  cheap  rent  asked  for  the  otherwise 
desirable  residence,  determined  to  face  the  ghost  and  lay  him 
if  possible.  He  shut  himself  into  the  house  at  night  and 
awaited  the  ghost's  arrival.  At  the  wonted  hour  he  came.  He 
was  not,  however,  a  terrible  ghost  at  all.  When  he  found  that 
the  man  showed  no  disposition  to  run  away  he  became  quite 
gentle  and  opened  his  grief.  In  the  days  of  his  flesh  he  had 
been  a  fighting  man,  and  had  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  his  leg 
as  the  result  of  one  of  his  battles.  The  severed  limb  lay  buried 
beneath  the  house,  and  a  one-legged  ghost  in  the  realm  of  the 
spirits  was  an  object  of  ridicule.  He  had  long  haunted  the 
house  for  the  purpose  of  recovering  his  lost  limb,  but  unfortu- 
nately he  had  never  yet  succeeded  in  persuading  any  mortal  to 
listen  to  his  plaint.  The  man  promised  to  give  his  assistance, 
and,  instructed  by  the  ghost,  proceeded  to  dig  at  a  certain  spot 
beneath  the  house.  Presently,  there  arose  from  the  hole  a 
misty  shape,  a  fleecy  cloud,  in  appearance  like  the  leg  of  a  man 
which  drifted  off,  and  joined  itself  to  the  body  of  the  ghost. 
*  Thank  you,'  said  the  happy  ghost,  'I  am  satisfied  now.*  And 
he  ceased  to  haunt  the  house.  The  story  shows  that  the 
Japanese  ghost  is  thought  of  as  being  the  exact  spiritual 
counterpart  of  the  material  man. 

4.  Ghostly  counterparts  of  material  objects.— 

The  Japanese  ghost  rarely  (if  ever)  appears  naked. 
He  appears  sometimes  in  his  grave-clothes,  but 
very  frequently  in  the  ghostly  counterparts  of  the 
clothes  which  he  habitually  wore  in  his  material 
life.  He  often  has  a  spiritual  sword,  and  has  been 
known  in  stories  to  commit  murder,  e.g.  strangling, 
with  the  ghostly  counterparts  of  material  objects, 
such  as  a  rope  or  a  piece  of  tough  paper. 

A  Kyoto  story,  dating  from  the  Kyoho  era  (a.d.  1716-1736), 
tells  of  a  murdered  woman  who  was  buried  along  with  her  new- 
born infant,  the  latter  not  being  truly  dead  at  the  time  of  inter- 
ment. Prompted  by  maternal  instinct,  the  ghost  of  the  woman 
escaped  from  the  tomb  and  went  into  the  city  to  buy  food  for 
her  infant.  Two  or  three  times  she  appeared  at  a  certain  shop 
and  purchased  some  rice-jelly.  On  each  occasion  she  was 
served  by  a  different  member  of  the  family — by  an  apprentice, 
by  the  mistress,  and  finally  by  the  master.  The  sadness  of  her 
face  impressed  itself  on  the  memory  of  each,  and  each  had  a 
distinct  recollection  of  having  seen  the  woman  take  out  of  her 
purse  the  proper  sum  of  money  and  lay  it  down  on  the  mat 
before  her.  In  each  case,  when,  after  the  departure  of  the 
woman,  they  went  to  take  up  the  money,  it  had  disappeared 
and  could  nowhere  be  found. 

It  is  evident  that  the  Japanese  ghost  is  thought 
of  as  surrounded  by  ghostly  counterparts  of  all  the 
objects  that  surround  him  in  this  world — in  other 
words,  there  is,  in  the  Japanese  mind,  a  spiritual 
world  which  is  the  exact  counterpart  of  the  material 
world  in  which  we  live. 

5.  Close  connexion  between  the  two  worlds. — 
These  two  worlds  are  looked  upon  as  being  very 
closely  connected.  The  spiritual  world  lies  as  near 
to  the  material,  and  is  as  closely  interwoven  with 
it,  as  the  spirit  of  man  is  with  his  body.  The  link 
of  connexion  is  never  broken,  and  the  Japanese 
ghost  feels  the  same  keen  interest  in  the  welfare  of 
his  family,  province,  or  country  that  he  felt  when 
alive. 

There  are  many  stories  to  illustrate  this :  for  example,  one 
recently  published  by  Viscount  Tani  in  the  Eokumin  Shimbitn, 
of  a  certain  Hamada  Rokunojo,  a  samurai  of  the  Tosa  clan, 
who,  having  been  beheaded  (a.d.  1674)  with  his  whole  family  on 
account  of  embezzlement  of  provincial  funds,  appeared  to  his 
judge  on  the  day  following  the  execution,  to  relieve  himself  of 
an  important  message  which  oppressed  his  mind.  In  many 
stories,  the  constant  persecutions  of  a  stepmother  worry  her 
hated  stepson  into  a  monastery,  where  he  can  have  no  further 
influence  over  the  faniuy  finances.  A  pious  priest  of  Hieizan, 
who  had  spent  many  years  in  the  continuous  recitation  of  the 
Hoke  Kyo,  edifies  (or  annoys?)  the  community  by  continuing 
the  same  practice  in  the  darkness  of  the  tomb.  The  ghost  of  a 
murdered  man  gives  no  rest  to  judges,  councillors,  or  kinsfolk, 
until  he  has  secured  the  acquittal  of  a  wrongfully  accused 
person  and  the  arrest  of  his  own  guilty  brother. 

These  are  but  a  few  instances  out  of  the  many 
ghost  stories  with  which  Japanese  literature  and 
folk-lore  abound.  Whether  the  tales  are  true  or 
not  does  not  matter.  The  important  thing  is 
that  they  all  illustrate  the  constant  belief  of  the 


610 


DEMONS  AND  SPIEITS  (Japanese) 


Japanese  in  the  reality  of  the  spirit  world,  and  in 
the  constant  and  close  interest  which  its  denizens 
take  in  the  concerns  of  men. 

6.  Effects  of  this  belief  on  conduct. — '  Are  you 
not  ashamed,'  says  a  kind-hearted  husband,  in 
one  of  Tokutomi's  novels,  to  his  spiteful  wife,— 
'  are  you  not  ashamed  to  stand  before  the  family 
ihai  [tablets  of  the  dead],  when  you  have  been 
treating  your  own  brother's  child  with  such 
cruelty  ? '  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  belief 
in  the  continued  interest  taken  by  the  dead  in  the 
concerns  of  the  world  they  have  left  behind  them 
has  exerted  in  the  past,  and  still  exerts,  a  great 
influence  on  the  moral  conduct  of  the  individual 
Japanese.  The  influence  is  fostered  by  the  presence 
on  the  domestic  shrine  of  the  tablets  of  the  dead, 
by  the  observances  on  death-days  and  other  anni- 
versaries of  the  dead,  by  the  ceremonies,  joyous  and 
otherwise,  of  the  Urabon  Festival,  by  the  many 
lustrations  of  the  Shinto  rites,  and  by  the  practice, 
observed  in  private  households  as  in  the  great 
affairs  of  State,  of  announcing  to  the  spirits  of  the 
deceased,  as  matters  that  must  touch  them  closely, 
any  events  of  importance  that  have  taken  place  in 
the  family  circle  or  the  country.  When  the  second 
Tokugawa  Shogun,  Hidetada,  wished  to  change 
the  succession  in  his  family,  he  was  only  dissuaded 
from  his  designs  by  the  consideration  of  the  fact 
that  he  would  have  to  notify  the  change  by  some 
messenger  sent  expressly  to  the  realms  of  the  dead. 
Imperial  messengers  are  constantly  being  sent  to 
announce  some  event  to  the  spirits  of  the  Imperial 
Ancestors,  and  the  Shokonsha  shrines  which, 
during  the  present  reign,  have  been  erected  in 
Tokyo  and  elsewhere,  to  the  memory  of  the  patriot 
dead  who  have  died  for  sovereign  or  country  during 
the  Meiji  period,  represent  the  enlargement  by 
design  of  an  old  belief  that  has  always  been  present 
in  Japan  under  one  form  or  another.  The  spiritual 
world  of  the  Japanese  is  no  longer  bounded  by  the 
narrow  limits  of  the  province.  Like  their  patriot- 
ism, it  has  become  Imperial :  for  what  lies  outside 
the  bounds  of  the  Empire  the  Japanese  have  but 
little  concern. 

7.  The  spirits  of  material  objects. — The  Japanese 
ghost  differs  from  ours  in  conception.  It  is  not,  as 
with  us,  just  the  spiritual  portion  of  a  man,  sepa- 
rated at  death  from  the  body.  It  is  the  whole  man 
spiritualized,  the  exact,  immaterial  counterpart  of 
the  material  man.  Every  material  object  (e.g. 
money,  as  we  saw  above)  has  this  spiritual  counter- 
part, and  there  has  from  the  earliest  times  been  a 
tendency  to  personify  the  spiritual  counterparts  of 
material  objects,  especially  things  remarkable  for 
beauty,  majesty,  age,  and  the  like.  We  hear 
occasionally  of  the  ghost  of  a  teapot,  a  badger,  or 
the  like ;  the  poetic  imagination  of  the  Japanese 
has  peopled  her  wilds  with  gods  or  spirits  of  the 
mountain,  the  cascade,  the  tree,  the  well,  the 
river,  the  moon,  and  above  all,  the  sun.  The  in- 
digenous Japanese  cult  is  threefold.  It  is  nature- 
worship,  ancestor-worship,  and,  as  a  corollary  to 
the  latter,  ruler-worship. 

8.  The  spirits  of  animals. — If  man  has  a  spiritual 
counterpart  to  his  material  self  capable  of  leaving 
the  latter  and  of  continuing  its  existence  apart, 
and  if  the  same  can  be  said  of  plants,  mountains, 
and  other  inanimate  bodies,  it  stands  to  reason 
that  the  same  qualities  ought,  logically,  to  be 
attributed  to  the  animals.  All  animals  are,  in 
Japanese  popular  thought,  thus  endowed  with 
spiritual  counterparts,  and  some  more  conspicu- 
ously tht.n  others.  Foxes,  badgers,  bears,  and  the 
like  are  able  not  only  to  appear  before  the  eye 
in  the  spiritual  counterpart  of  their  own  material 
shape,  but  even  to  enter  into  the  bodies  of  men 
and  other  animals,  and  to  speak  and  act  through 
them. 


The  fox. — The  fox  is  the  hero  of  a  thousand  stories.  lie  has, 
e.g.,  been  known  to  change  himself  into  a  tree.  In  a  legend 
from  Nara  we  read  of  a  Shinto  priest  from  the  Kasuga  shrine 
who,  having  lost  his  horse,  went  into  the  foreBt  to  search  for  it. 
He  was  astonished  to  see  a  giant  cryptomeria  in  a  place  where 
none  had  stood  only  a  few  days  before,  and,  in  order  to  make 
sure  that  he  was  not  being  bewitched,  discharged  his  arrow 
against  the  tree.  The  next  day  the  tree  had  disappeared,  but 
on  the  place  where  it  had  stood  there  was  a  poor  little  dead  fox 
with  an  arrow  through  its  heart.  Again,  the  fox  has  been 
known  to  turn  into  a  woman,  not  only  as  a  temporary  disguise, 
but  permanently ;  and  there  iB  a  popular  play  known  as  the 
Shinoda  no  mori,  or  'Forest  of  Shinoda,'  which  turns  entirely  on 
the  supposed  marriage  of  a  man  with  a  vixen  who  had  assumed 
the  form  of  a  young  woman.  The  plot  has  an  extremely  sad 
and  tragic  denouement.  The  story  of  the  midwife  who  was 
tricked  by  a  fox  into  assisting  at  the  accouchement  of  his  wife  is 
also  a  favourite  one  which  may  be  found  in  many  districts. 

The  cult  of  the  fox,  whilst  probably  indigenous 
to  Japan,  is  also  found  in  China,  and  many  of  the 
fox-legends  are  probably  importations.  When  the 
fox  can  find  a  human  skull,  and  put  it  on  its  head, 
and  then  worship  Myoken,  the  polar  star,  it  obtains 
its  power  of  assuming  the  human  form.  It  is  very 
fond  of  assuming  the  shape  of  a  beautiful  maiden, 
and  chooses  the  twilight  for  the  exercise  of  its 
witchery.  The  witchery  of  a  fox  is  rarely  of  a 
malicious  kind.  It  has  indeed  been  known  to  deal 
swift  and  sharp  retribution  to  men  for  acts  of  in- 
justice and  cruelty,  but  it  is,  as  a  rule,  mischievous 
rather  than  spiteful,  and  there  are  not  a  few  in- 
stances in  which  the  fox  has  shown  great  gratitude. 
There  are  no  stories  which  tell  of  the  fox  requiting 
good  with  evil ;  but  it  never  omits  to  requite  evil 
with  evil. 

A  story  from  Kai  tells  of  a  samurai  who  shot  at  a  fox  with 
intent  to  kill.  He  missed  his  aim,  but  the  fox  did  not  forget 
the  hostile  intention,  and  when  the  samurai  got  home  he  found 
his  house  on  fire.  On  the  other  hand,  a  story  from  Omi  tells  of 
the  gratitude  of  the  fox  to  whom  the  priests  had  shown  kind- 
ness ;  and  the  great  Nichiren,  who  had  a  very  tender  heart  for 
animals,  was  said  to  have  two  familiar  and  attendant  foxes  who 
accompanied  him  everywhere,  predicting  the  future,  and  warn- 
ing him  of  coming  dangers.  A  story  is  also  told  of  a  certain 
Yasumichi,  who  held  the  office  of  Dainagon  and  resided  at 
Takakura,  near  Kyoto.  The  grounds  surrounding  his  mansion 
were  so  full  of  foxes  that  they  became  a  nuisance  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood, and  Yasumichi  was  minded  to  get  rid  of  them.  He 
appointed  a  day  for  a  great  fox-hunt ;  but,  on  the  evening 
before,  a  fox  appeared  to  him  in  the  shape  of  a  handsome  boy, 
and,  in  the  name  of  the  whole  tribe,  promised  the  best  of  be- 
haviour if  only  Yasumichi  would  spare  them.  Yasumichi  did 
so,  and  never  repented  of  the  bargain. 

For  further  stories  relating  to  the  power  of  meta- 
morphosis ascribed  to  the  fox,  as  well  as  for  similar 
stories  relating  to  other  animals,  the  reader  is 
referred  to  M.  W.  de  Visser's  excellent  treatises 
on  the  'Tengu,'  the  'Fox  and  Badger,'  and  the 
'Cat  and  Dog,'  in  Japanese  folk-lore,  appearing  in 
vols,  xxxvi.  and  xxxvii.  of  the  Transactions  of  the 
Asiatic  Society  of  Japan. 

9.  Possession  by  foxes  and  other  animals. — 
What  we  have  hitherto  said  has  related  to  the 
supposed  power  of  the  fox  and  certain  other  ani- 
mals of  bewitching  men  by  assuming  phantom 
bodies.  In  fox-possession,  the  spirit  of  the  animal 
intrudes  itself  into  the  body  of  a  man  or  woman, 
in  such  a  way  that  the  intruding  spirit  exercises  a 
control,  more  or  less  absolute,  over  the  person  in 
whose  body  it  resides.  This  power  is  ascribed  not 
only  to  the  fox,  but  to  the  dog,  the  monkey,  the 
badger,  and  the  serpent.  Strange  to  say,  these 
beliefs  are  more  prevalent  in  Kyushu  and  S.W. 
Japan  than  in  the  North  and  North-eastern  dis- 
tricts, and  it  seems  not  unnatural  to  ascribe  them 
to  Malay  rather  than  to  Chinese  or  Mongolian 
influences.  The  following  is  a  list  of  the  names 
commonly  given  to  these  forms  of  possession, 
together  with  the  localities  in  which  they  are  said 
to  be  especially  found  : 

Name.  Locality. 

Kitsune-tsuki,  '  fox-possession '       .    No  definite  locality. 
Nekogami,  'cat-god'         ...  ,,  ,, 

Tanuki-gami, '  badger-god  *     .        .  ,.  ,, 

Inugami,  '  dog-god "...    Bitchu,  Awa,  Tosa,  and 

parts  of  Kyushu. 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Japanese) 


611 


Name.  Locality. 

Sarugami,  'monkey-god'        .        .    Shikoku. 
Hebigami,  '  serpent-god '         .        .     Iyo. 
TObyo       (meaning  unknown) .        .    Bitchu,  Bingo. 
Hinomisaki    „  ,,  ,,  » 

[These  two  are  forms  of  Kitsltne-twki.} 
Ninkb,  '  human  fox '         .        .        .    Izumo. 
Izuna,       •■        ■■  ...    Shinano. 

[Om-tsuki,  or  '  demon-possession,'  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the 
term,  and  possession  by  Tengu,  are  omitted  here,  as  they  will 
be  discussed  later  on.  The  reader  is  again  recommended  to 
study  de  Visser's  illuminating  pages.] 

io.  Oni. — This  is  the  name  given  to  a  certain 
class  of  supposed  heings  of  hideous  aspect  and  Her- 
culean strength.  They  often  assume  the  human 
form,  with  the  addition  of  a  pair  of  hull's  horns, 
and  a  tiger's  skin  thrown  around  their  loins.  These 
two  special  symbols  denote,  so  it  is  said,  that  they 
came  into  the  world  of  men  through  the  kimon,  or 
'  spirit-gate,'  which,  following  the  arrangement  of 
the  Japanese  zodiac,  is  situated  in  the  ushi-tora 
('  bull-tiger ')  direction  (see  below). 

The  word  oni  is  said  to  be  of  Chinese  origin,  and 
to  denote  'hidden'  or  'secret.'  It  is  therefore 
connected  in  idea  with  the  Japanese  kakureru,  '  to 
go  into  concealment,'  used  of  the  death  of  eminent 
persons,  and  it  is  thus  plain  that  the  primary  con- 
ception of  the  oni  is  that  they  are  the  spirits  of 
the  dead.  The  oldest  purely  Japanese  term  seems 
to  have  been  mono  ('  the  beings,'  an  euphemism 
based  on  the  idea  of  de  mortuis  nil  nisi  bonum) ; 
arakami1  or  araburukami  ('wild  spirits'),  and 
shikome  ('  ugly  women  '),  appear  to  have  been  used 
later,  and  later  again  we  get  the  word  mononoke 
('spiritual  beings  ).  Many  Japanese  will  say  that 
mono  or  mononoke  are  essentially  evil  beings,  but 
there  seems  to  be  no  inherent  reason  for  such  a 
supposition.  A  still  more  modern  word  is  bake- 
mono  ('beings  possessed  of  magical  powers').  These 
words  show  the  beliefs  of  the  Japanese  regarding 
the  dead.  Death  is  liberation  from  the  trammels 
of  fleshly  existence.  The  dead,  therefore,  possess- 
ing greater  freedom,  have  larger  powers  than  the 
living,  though  their  existence  is  hidden  from  our 
eyes.  They  are  the  kishin  or  the  kami,  dwelling 
in  the  dark  regions  of  yomi.  But  there  are  many 
different  types  of  oni,  and  some  of  them,  unable  to 
rest  in  the  dull  peace  of  Elysium,  turn  to  more 
active  employments.  In  the  Kojiki,  the  yomotsu 
shikome  drive  Izanagi  out  of  Hades ;  and  the 
araburukami,  changing  himself  into  a  bear,  is 
slain  by  a  celestial  thunderbolt  discharged  by 
Takeniikadzuchi. 

ii.  The  oni  as  modified  by  Confucianism  and 
Buddhism. — The  introduction  into  Japan  of  Chinese 
and  Indian  influences  brought  with  it  certain  modi- 
fications of  the  oni.  The  Kojiki  itself  is  a  book 
largely  influenced  by  China ;  it  is,  therefore,  possible 
that  the  idea  of  the  yomotsu  shikome  may  not  be 
a  purely  Japanese  one.  To  Buddhism  is  certainly 
due  the  idea  which  makes  of  the  oni  the  attendants 
of  the  god  of  Hell,  Yama.  In  a  story  in  the  Ujijui 
Monogatari  they  appear  as  fairies,  amidst  surround- 
ings which  are  almost  German. 

Ad  old  woodcutter,  who  has  a  large  wen  upon  his  right  cheek, 
is  overtaken  by  a  storm  and  compelled  to  pass  the  night  in  a 
hollow  tree.  Unintentionally,  he  becomes  a  spectator  of  the 
revels  of  the  oni,  who  dance  around  his  tree.  The  old  man,  who 
is  a  good  dancer  himself,  joins  in  the  dance,  and,  after  a  very 
delightful  night,  promises  to  come  again  to  his  new-made  friends. 
The  oni  are  a  little  doubtful  as  to  his  sincerity,  and  take  the  wen 
off  his  right  cheek  as  a  pledge.  "When  he  returns,  he  becomes 
an  object  of  envy  to  his  neighbour,  who  is  also  a  woodcutter,  and 
who  has  also  a  wen,  but  on  his  left  cheek.  The  neighbour  de- 
termines that  he  will  also  try  his  luck,  and  takes  his  place  in  the 
hollow  tree  to  wait  for  the  oni  dance  to  commence.  But  he  is 
not  a  good  dancer,  and  the  oni  lose  their  tempers.    They  drive 

1  In  the  days  of  the  anti-Christian  persecutions,  Christian 
emblems  and  books  were  occasionally  saved  from  desecration  or 
destruction  by  being  shut  up  in  shrines  dedicated  to  supposed 
arakami,  where  they  were  safe,  owing  to  the  superstitious  fears 
of  the  people.  The  present  writer  has  been  told  of  a  crucifix 
which  was  thus  treated  ;  also  of  a  copy  of  the  Christian  Scrip- 
tures 


him  out  of  the  dance  ring,  and,  as  he  flees,  one  of  them  takes 
the  wen  which  they  had  taken  from  his  predecessor  and  throws 
it  at  his  right  cheek,  where  it  sticks.  Thus  the  man  returns 
home  with  a  wen  on  either  cheek. 

Some  of  the  tricks  ascribed  to  the  oni,  such  as 
the  stealing  of  a  lute  belonging  to  the  Emperor 
Murakami  (A.D.  947-968),  which  is  afterwards 
mysteriously  lowered  by  invisible  hands  from  a 
high  tower,  and  so  restored,  seem  to  suggest  a 
credulity  that  was  easily  imposed  upon.  When  a 
woman  disappeared  from  a  public  park  in  KySto, 
being  last  seen  walking  hand  in  hand  with  a  man, 
and  when  a  search  made  for  her  resulted  only  in 
the  discovery  of  a  pair  of  arms  and  a  leg,  the  police 
of  the  period  (A.D.  885-889)  were  probably  very 
glad  to  be  able  to  plead  that  it  was  the  work  of  the 
oni.  An  oil-pot,  rolling  of  its  own  accord  along 
the  streets,  and  entering  a  house,  where  it  kills  a 
young  girl,  ought  to  satisfy  the  most  exacting  of 
spiritualistic  seances. 

12.  The  word  oni  as  applied  to  living  persons. — 
Whilst  oni  corresponds  roughly  to  the  ki  of  Con- 
fucianism, or  to  the  gaki,  or  inhabitants  of  the 
Buddhist  Pretaloka,  it  is  also  sometimes  meta- 
phorically applied  to  living  people.  Thus  we  get 
oni-musha,  '  a  fierce  warrior  ;  oni-shogun,  '  a  dar- 
ing general';  oni-kage,  'a  spirited  horse.'  A 
beautiful  but  hard-hearted  woman  is  an  oni,  an 
ugly,  evil  face  is  oni-zura,  and  there  is  a  phrase, 
oni  no  juhachi,  which  suggests  that  the  devil  was  a 
handsome  enough  fellow  in  his  youth. 

13.  Adaptations  of  Indian  stories. — The  Japanese 
oni  is  sometimes  conceived  of  as  playing  the  part 
of  Mara,  the  Tempter,  who  so  constantly  comes 
between  Buddha  and  his  disciples,  and  who  is  the 
enemy  of  truth.  More  frequently  he  is  the  Yaksa 
or  Raksasa  of  Indian  demonology.  It  has  been 
conj  ectured  that  the  Onigashima  of  the  popular 
Japanese  story  is  the  Yaksadvlpa  of  the  Jatakas. 
In  the  same  story,  the  onitaiji,  or  attack  on  the 
demons,  is  said  to  be  an  adaptation  of  Rama's 
invasion  of  Ceylon,  as  given  in  the  Mahabharata. 

14.  Tengu. — We  now  come  to  the  consideration 
of  the  mysterious  beings  known  as  tengu.  The 
popular  explanation  of  this  term  is  '  heavenly  dog ' ; 
but  the  word  also  appears  as  tenko,  '  heavenly  fox,' 
and  tenko,  '  heavenly  light.'  The  Buddhist  ex- 
planation of  the  word  tengu  is  '  light  and  darkness,' 
'freedom  and  non-freedom,'  'enlightenment  and 
error.'  Thus  considered,  the  tengu  is  a  being  in 
whom  are  united  both  sides  of  these  antitheses.  A 
similar  interpretation  makes  ten  to  be  the  heavenly 
mantra  which  dominates  the  Vajradhatu,  or  Dia- 
mond World,  and  gu  to  be  the  earthly  mantra 
which  rules  in  the  Garbhadhatu,  or  Womb  World. 
The  tengu  participates  in  the  nature  of  both  worlds. 

Shintoist  and  Conf ucianist  writers,  Baron  Tsuda, 
for  example,  do  not  hesitate  to  denounce  the 
tengu  as  nothing  but  figments  invented  by  a  crafty 
priesthood  for  the  purpose  of  deceiving  an  ignorant 
people.  It  is,  nevertheless,  interesting  to  speculate 
on  the  sources  from  which  the  conception  of  these 
fabled  creatures  came.  The  tengu  is  frequently 
found  in  Chinese  literature,  and  it  may  perhaps  be 
said  that  the  idea  of  these  beings  came  from  a  close 
observation  of  animals  in  their  native  haunts.  The 
Buddhist  monks  of  old  generally  built  their  temples 
in  the  recesses  of  solitary  mountains,  and  one  of 
the  commonest  of  the  titles  bestowed  on  the  founder 
of  a  temple  or  sect  is  that  of  kaisan-shonin,  '  the 
venerable  opener  of  the  mountain.'  Japanese 
legend  connects  all  the  great  kaisan,  e.g.  Saicho, 
Kobo,  Nichiren,  etc.,  with  stories  of  the  tengu,  and 
the  favourite  haunts  of  these  creatures  are  famous 
temples,  such  as  Hiyei,  Kurama,  Atago,  Kom- 
pira,  Omine,  Ontake,  Oyama,  Miyogi,  Akiha,  and 
Nikko.  The  frolicsome  antics  of  animals  who 
believe  themselves  to  be  absolutely  unobserved  by 
human  eyes  might  easily  give  birth  to  legends  oi 


612 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Jewish) 


tengu  and  other  weird  beings.  There  would  also 
be  ground  for  imagining  that  some  of  the  staider 
of  the  brute  creation  were  re-incarnations  of  yama- 
bushi  and  other  pious  recluses. 

15.  Garuda. — Undoubtedly  the  tengu  are  con- 
nected with  the  Garuda  of  Buddhist  mythology. 
Tengu  will  appear  as  priests,  riding  on  foxes,  carry- 
ing feather  fans,  or  even  swords  like  samurai ; 
but  their  commonest  form  is  that  of  a  bird  of  prey 
not  unlike  an  eagle  or  a  vulture.1  It  is  a  safe 
generalization  to  make,  that,  whenever  a  tengu  is 
represented  with  the  beak  and  claws  of  a  bird,  or 
with  wings  to  fly  with,  the  prototype  is  the  Garuda. 
When  the  tengu  takes  some  other  form,  e.g.  a 
shooting  star,  a  white  badger,  and  so  forth,  the 
original  conception  is  to  be  looked  for,  not  in  India, 
but  in  China.  But,  whether  Indian  or  Chinese, 
the  tengu  are  always  subject  to  the  sacerdotal 
power  of  the  Buddhist  priesthood.  Some  have 
been  Buddhist  priests  before  their  present  incarna- 
tion ;  some  become  converted  as  tengu,  and  so 
procure  re-birth  as  members  of  the  order.  They 
can  hypnotize  men  into  seeing  many  things  that 
have  no  existence,  but  their  power  does  not  last 
for  more  than  a  week.  When  the  Sabbath  Day 
comes,  their  power  comes  to  an  end. 

16.  Tengu-possession. — Tengu-possession  differs 
in  kind  from  that  by  oni,  or  any  01  the  bewitching 
animals.  There  is  no  mischief  in  it,  and  no  devilry. 
When  a  man  is  obsessed  by  a  tengu,  he  merely 
becomes  preternaturally  learned  or  solemn,  read- 
ing, writing,  or  fencing  with  a  skill  that  would 
not  be  expected  from  him. 

17.  Exorcism. — When  a  man  is  possessed  by  a 
tengu,  exorcism  is  of  little  importance.  For  posses- 
sion by  evil  spirits,  foxes,  badgers,  and  the  like, 
there  are  many  forms  of  exorcism  in  vogue,  the 
sect  of  Nichiren  being  especially  noted  for  its 
labours  in  this  kind  of  healing.  The  most  famous 
place  near  Tokyo  is  at  the  village  of  Nakayama, 
where,  at  a  certain  temple  belonging  to  the 
Nichiren  sect,  periodical  retreats  are  held  for  the 
purpose  of  driving  out  evil  spirits  of  all  kinds  (see 
an  art.  on  '  Buddhistische  Gnadensmittel,'  in  the 
Mitteilungen  der  deutschen  Gesellschaft  fur  Natur- 
und  Volkerhunde  Ostasiens  [vol.  v.,  Tokyo,  1907]). 

18.  Spirits  of  the  house,  etc. — Spirits  have  much 
to  do  with  the  Japanese  conception  of  the  house. 
No  building  can  take  place  without  a  reference  of 
some  sort  to  them.  But  this  is  a  large  subject,  and 
will  be  more  conveniently  treated  in  connexion 
with  the  house. 

Literature. — In  addition  Ito  the  authorities  quoted  in  the 
text  of  this  article,  the  present  writer  has  drawn  mainly  upon 
three  sources,  all  Japanese  : 

(1.)  The  Journal  of  the  Tokyo  Anthropological  Society. 

(ii.)  Tsuzoku  Bukkyo  Shimbun,  a  weekly  journal  published 
under  the  auspices  of  the  reforming:  school  of  Buddhists,  also  in 
Tokyo. 

(iii.)  To-ffl  no  Eikari  ("The  Light  of  the  Far  East'),  the  organ 
of  the  Tokyo  Philosophical  Society.  A.  LLOYD. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Jewish).— There 
can  be  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  the  existence 
of  spirits  was,  during  most  periods  of  Jewish  his- 
tory and  in  most  places,  regarded  as  incontestable. 
Yet  this  statement  is  capable  of  being  modified  in 
no  small  degree.  It  has  been  stated,  on  the  one 
hand,  that  demonology  obtained  so  strong  a  grasp 
of  the  popular  mind  as  completely  to  fetter  it  with 
superstition  and  to  stifle  all  higher  aspirations ; 
that  religious  teachers  and  thinkers  were  them- 
selves not  free  from  these  ideas ;  and  that  this 
belief  obscured  and  in  many  ways  detracted  from 
the  value  of  their  ethical  teachings.  On  the  other 
hand,  this  has  been  too  categorically  denied   by 

1  It  is  to  be  noticed  that  there  are  otengu,  '  big  tengu,'  with 
red  faces  and  long  human  noses  ;  there  are  also  kotengu,  '  small 
tengu,'  with  beaks.  These  are  also  known  as  karasut,  'crow 
tengu.' 


writers  who  hold  diametrically  opposite  views. 
As  might  be  expected,  the  truth  lies  in  the  golden 
mean.  The  human  mind  and  soul  are  capable  of 
accommodating  simultaneously  opinions  which  are 
not  only  inconsistent,  but  even  mutually  exclusive. 
It  is  just  because  man  does  not  always  trouble  to 
disentangle  his  thoughts  and  to  harmonize  them 
that  he  is  willing  to  retain  the  incongruent.  Conse- 
quently a  whole-hearted  belief  in  the  supremacy 
of  the  Godhead  need  not  necessarily  exclude  an 
acknowledgment  of  the  working  of  other  powers. 
To  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  one  or  the  other 
of  these  beliefs  must  be  rejected  requires  consider- 
able progress  along  the  path  of  mental  reasoning. 

The  belief  in  spirits  during  post-Biblical  times 
was  a  legacy  from  earlier  periods  (see  esp.  the 
'  Assyr.-Bab.'  and  'Hebrew  artt.  on  the  present 
subject).  What  Chaldaea,  Arabia,  and  Egypt  gave 
to  Canaan  underwent  substantial  change,  and  re- 
ceived additions  from  internal  and  external  sources. 
In  Palestine  itself,  Galilee 1  may  be  singled  out  as 
being  the  centre  where  demonology  was  strongest, 
but  this  must  not  by  any  means  be  taken  to  exclude 
other  parts.  Many  causes  contributed  to  the  dif- 
fusion of  these  ideas.  The  ever-growing  intercourse 
with  the  Greek  and  Roman  world,  produced  by 
commercial  and  political  circumstances,  can  scarcely 
have  failed  to  make  the  Jews  acquainted  with  many 
new  forms  of  spirits.  The  Jews  from  the  Diaspora 
who  re-visited  their  native  land  cannot  have  re- 
turned entirely  empty-handed,  and  foreign  ideas 
must  have  found  a  fruitful  soil  in  those  parts  where 
religious  influences  were  weakest  to  counteract 
them.  By  a  people  naturally  given  to  syncretism, 
dryads  and  satyrs  would  easily  be  associated  with 
shedim  and  se  irlm.  Moreover,  the  intercourse 
between  the  coastland  of  Palestine  and  the  ^Egean 
and  Cypriote  ports  must  have  led  to  an  interchange 
of  ideas  as  well  as  of  commodities.  But,  without 
going  so  far  afield  as  Greece,  there  were  enough 
territorial  influences  at  hand  to  account  for  many 
foreign  elements  in  Jewish  demonological  beliefs 
and  practices. 

A  complete  list  of  the  various  forms  of  demons 
may  be  seen  in  JE,  art.  '  Demonology.'  The  scope 
of  the  present  article  is  to  furnish  suggestions 
which  may  in  some  cases  account  for  their  exist- 
ence. While  frankly  admitting  the  origin  of  a 
large  number  to  be  purely  superstitious,  there  are 
yet  many  for  which  other  explanations  must  be 
sought.  The  area  to  be  considered  is  immense, 
and  references  of  great  importance  occur  in  all 
branches  of  literature — Apocrypha  and  Pseudepi- 
grapha,  New  Testament  and  Patristic  writings, 
and  Talmudic  and  Rabbinic  works  of  all  ages, 
including  Halakha,  Haggada,  and  Qabbala.  On 
account  of  this  wide  area,  great  care  must  be 
exercised  in  drawing  conclusions.  Demons  occur- 
ring in  late  books  must  be  traced  to  their  earliest 
sources.  An  isolated  reference  in  the  Shulhan 
'Artlkh  (1555)  requires  investigation  as  to  whether 
it  be  a  mediseval  invention  or  a  lingering  survival 
of  a  primitive  superstition.  Secondly,  references 
must  be  examined  to  see  whether  they  are  the 
utterances  of  individuals  or  genuine  examples  of 
popular  belief ;  and  distinctions  must  be  drawn 
between  local  and  general  beliefs,  between  Semitic 
and  non-Semitic,  and  between  Jewish  beliefs  and 
those  borrowed  by  Jews  from  their  neighbours  in 
European  countries.  A  requirement,  more  vital 
than  any  of  the  foregoing,  is  the  exercise  of  careful 
analysis  in  selecting  Talmudic  material.  It  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  assign  each  authority  to 
its  proper  local  and  chronological  category ;  that 
is  to  say,  evidence  which  applies  to  Babylon  is 
inadmissible  for  Palestine ;  that  which  is  found 
to  occur  in  Galilee  cannot  be  used  to  prove  argu- 
1  Of.  H.  Gratz,  GeschS,  Leipzig,  1SSS,  iii.  282. 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Jewish) 


613 


ments  for  Judsea ;  and  the  same  care  must  be 
exercised  in  respect  of  chronology. 

In  investigating  Talmudic  evidence  as  to  spirits, 
the  reader  will  notice,  at  the  outset,  different 
attitudes  adopted  by  the  Kabbis  in  dealing  with 
this  question.  In  some  cases  the  reality  of  demons 
seems  to  be  taken  for  granted  absolutely  ;  in  others 
it  seems,  with  no  less  certainty,  to  be  denied. 
Stories  occur  in  which  both  these  attitudes  may  be 
traced  simultaneously.  The  reason  for  this  may 
be  found  if  the  nationality  of  the  respective  teachers 
be  sought.  It  has  already  been  stated  that  Galilee 
was  the  centre  of  Palestinian  demonology,  and  it 
will  almost  invariably  be  found  that  Galilcean 
teachers  accepted,  while  Judcean  teachers  rejected, 
the  existence  of  spirits.  The  numerous  instances 
which  the  NT  furnishes  would  have  been  impos- 
sible save  in  Galilee ;  there  is  a  strong  similarity 
between  these  and  those  adduced  by  Galilsean 
Rabbis.  The  same  must  be  said  of  those  Kabbis 
who  came  from  Mesopotamia.  As  they  were 
brought  up  in  surroundings  in  which  superstition 
was  rife,  their  teaching  was  tinged  by  a  belief  in 
spirits,  and  in  comparison  with  them  the  clarity  of 
Palestinian  teaching  stands  out  in  bold  relief. 

Justin  Martyr  {Dial.  i.  85)  accuses  the  Jews  of 
employing  amulets  and  conjurations  to  no  less  an 
extent  than  the  heathen.  The  evidence  of  K. 
Simon  b.  Yohai,  a  Galiltean  Tanna  of  the  2nd 
cent.,  is  equally  conclusive  for  Galilee.  Thus  Bab. 
'Erubhin,  646,  states : 

'  The  Master  says  :  "  We  do  not  pass  by  food  (which  is  lying 
in  the  street,  and  which  may  have  been  used  for  protection 
against  spirits)."  R.  Yohanan  in  the  name  of  R.  Simon  b.  Yohai 
saya :  "This  decision  applies  only  to  the  earlier  generations, 
when  the  daughters  of  Israel  were  not  practised  in  all  arts  of 
magic  (D'C^iD  rriisnp) ;  but  nowadays,  when  the  daughters  of 
Israel  are  indeed  practised  in  all  magical  arts,  this  does  not 
apply.  It  has  been  taught  that  one  should  pass  by  loaves,  but 
not  small  pieces."  R.  Asi  said  to  R.  Ashi :  'Do  they,  then,  not 
use  small  pieces  also  for  this  purpose?"'  [Note  that  none  of 
these  Rabbis  is  a  Judeean.  Simon  b.  Yohai  was  a  Galilean,  and 
R.  Asi  and  R.  Ashi  were  Babylonians.] 
The  difference  between  Judsea,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  Galilee  and  Babylon,  on  the  other,  may  be 
demonstrated  by  the  story  related  about  Zonin  and 
the  Palestinian  Aqiba  in  Bab.  ' '  Aboda  Zara,  55a  : 1 

'  Zonin  said  to  R.  Aqiba  :  "  Both  of  us  know  that  there  is  no 
reality  in  idols,  but  how  is  it  that  we  see  men  going  to  them 
lame  and  returning  sound  ?  "  He  replied  :  "  I  will  relate  to  thee 
a  parable.  There  was  once  in  the  city  an  honest  man,  with  whom 
all  the  inhabitants  would  deposit  their  money  without  witnesses. 
One  man,  however,  would  always  do  so  before  witnesses.  On  one 
occasion  he  forgot  and  omitted  the  witnesses.  Then  said  the 
wife  of  the  honest  man  to  him,  Now  we  can  deny  him  ;  but  he 
replied,  And  indeed  since  he  is  foolish,  shall  we  lose  our  faithful* 
ness  ?  "  So  also  is  it  with  chastisements  (i.e.  diseases).  When 
they  are  sent  upon  man,  the  precise  limits  of  their  duration  are 
specified ;  they  are  adjured  and  warned  at  what  moment,  by 
what  physician,  and  by  what  drug  they  are  to  leave  the  patient. 
When  the  time  arrives  for  the  diseases  to  depart,  and  it  happens 
that  the  sufferer  is  at  the  (heathen)  temple,  the  diseases  say : 
"  By  rights  we  should  not  go,  but  shall  we  prove  unfaithful  to 
our  oath  for  the  sake  of  a  fool  1 " ' 

These  and  similar  anecdotes,  which  are  to  be  found 
in  the  same  place,  show  that  the  Pal.  Rabbis  placed 
no  reliance  in  spirits  and  conjurations.  It  should 
be  noted  that  K.  Aqiba  (A.D.  50-135)  says  of  him- 
self elsewhere  (Sem.  viii.  ;  M.  ]£.  216) :  '  The  people 
of  the  south  know  Aqiba,  but  whence  should  the 
people  of  Galilee  know  him  ? '  It  was  in  Galilee 
that  the  people  believed  in  possession  by  evil  spirits 
and  in  the  actuality  of  demons  (e.g.  NT  refer- 
ences), whereas  in  Palestine  the  views  of  Aqiba 
prevailed. 

One  of  the  favourite  forms  of  procuring  inter- 
course with  spirits  was  by  spending  the  night  in  a 
cemetery.  In  connexion  with  this  practice,  refer- 
ence should  be  made  to  Jer.  Terumoth,  i.  fol.  40a, 
outer  column,  line  29 ;  Gittin,  vii.  beginning,  fol. 
486,  outer  column  (ed.  Krotoschin,  1866),  and  Bab. 
Hagiga,  36,  near  end.     In  all  these  cases  invocation 

1  The  Gemara  is  attempting  to  account  for  God's  tolerating 
idols  and  superstitions,  and  for  the  fact  that  spirits  do  some- 
times accomplish  cureB. 


of  spirits  is  mentioned  :  e.g.  O'ib^  ispsn,  he  who 
burns  incense  to  the  shedim,  and  he  who  passes  the 
night  by  the  graves  in  order  to  enter  into  com- 
munion with  an  unclean  spirit.  These  customs  are 
strongly  condemned,  and  are  viewed  as  an  indica- 
tion of  insanity  (i.e.  one  who  participates  is  a 
neW).  With  these  passages  may  be  compared  the 
story  in  Levit.  Rabba,  xxvi.  5  : 

R.  Berakhya  in  the  name  of  R.  Levi  relates  that  a  kohen  and 
an  Israelite  were  possessed  by  a  demon  and  went  to  a  skilled 
physician,  who  prescribed  for  the  Israelite,  but  left  the  kohen 
neglected.  The  latter  asked  the  reason,  and  the  physician  re- 
plied :  '  He  is  an  Israelite,  and  is  of  those  who  spend  the  night 
at  the  graves ;  but  thou,  who  art  a  kohen,  dost  not  act  thus, 
therefore  I  left  thee  and  prescribed  for  him.' 
This  story  illustrates  the  difference  between  the 
ignorant  and  the  learned  classes ;  it  should  be 
contrasted  with  the  statements  of  Athenagoras 
(Legatio  pro  Christianis,  chs.  xxiv.,  xxvi.,  xxvii.), 
to  whom  demons  were  a  vivid  reality.1 

Probably  the  earliest  demons  are  those  originat- 
ing from  the  movements  of  celestial  bodies  and 
from  natural  phenomena.  To  the  former,  of  course, 
belong  Bab.  and,  later  on,  Persian  examples.  Simi- 
larly the  sand-storm  in  the  desert  may  be  safely 
held  to  account  for  some  of  the  aspects  of  the  Arabic 
jinn.  So,  too,  Ps  916  '  the  destruction  that  wasteth 
at  noonday '  may  not  improbably  refer  to  the  burn- 
ing heat  of  midday.  The  development  of  this 
idea  may  be  found  in  Bab.  Pesahim,  1116 ff.,  where 
the  same  word  qetebh  occurs. 

Inasmuch  as  the  functions  of  religion  were,  among 
the  Jews,  very  wide,  the  scope  of  the  teacher's 
activity  extended  to  many  branches  which  would 
not  to-day  be  considered  as  belonging  to  the  true 
sphere  of  religion.  He  legislated  for  social  as  well 
as  for  religious  matters ;  the  daily  intercourse 
between  man  and  his  neighbour  was  the  object  of 
his  attention.  Consequently,  when  there  are  found 
quasi-religious  references  to  spirits,  in  connexions 
which  seem  very  remote  from  religion  in  its  modern 
signification,  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  word 
has  been  greatly  restricted  in  the  process  of  time. 
In  turning  back  to  those  spirits  which  may  perhaps 
have  their  origin  in  natural  phenomena,  the  fore- 
going must  be  borne  in  mind.  Thus  in  Pesahim, 
1116,  to  which  reference  has  been  made,  the  follow- 
ing statement  occurs  : 

'  From  the  first  of  Tammuz  to  the  sixteenth  there  can  be  no 
doubt  as  to  their  actuality  ;  after  that  date  it  is  doubtful.  They 
may  be  found  in  the  shadow  of  ivy  which  is  stunted  (not  a  yard 
high),  and  in  the  morning  and  evening  shadows  which  are  not  a 
yard  high,  but  chiefly  they  may  be  found  in  the  shadows  of  a 
privy.' 

The  Gemara  does  not  particularize  the  spirits 
mentioned  in  the  passage  cited,  which  follows 
references  to  many  varieties  of  spirits.  There 
cannot,  however,  be  much  doubt  that  the  qetebh 
m'rlrl,  or  spirit  of  poisonous  pestilence,  is  meant, 
although  the  passage  might  refer  generally  to 
shedim,  for  this  spirit  is  described  a  few  lines  earlier 
in  the  Gemara  : 

'  The  qetebh  meriri  is  of  two  kinds  ;  one  comes  in  the  morning, 
the  other  in  the  afternoon.  The  former  is  called  qetebh  meriri, 
and  causes  mealy  porridge  to  ferment  (lit.,  it  appears  in  a  vessel 
of  mealy  porridge  and  stirs  the  spoon).  The  latter  is  the  pestil- 
ence which  destroyeth  at  noonday  ;  it  appears  like  a  sieve  on 
the  horns  of  a  goat,  and  it  turns  like  a  sieve  '  (ib.  supra). 
It  would  not  seem  a  very  rash  assumption  to  regard 
this  spirit  as  the  development  and  personification 
of  midsummer  heat.  Tammuz  is  elsewhere  stated 
to  be  the  height  of  summer,  e.g.  Shab.  53a,  where 
a  popular  proverb  is  quoted  to  the  effect  that  even 
in  Tammuz  the  donkey  feels  the  cold.  The  fact 
that  attention  is  drawn  to  those  shadows  which 
afford  insufficient  protection  from  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  and  the  stress  laid  on  the  evil  effects  of 
proximity  to  a  privy,  render  this  view  more  prob- 

1  It  may  be  mentioned,  incidentally,  that  the  term  for  posses- 
sion by  a  demon  is  H23,  NS3.  The  spirits  are  said  to  have  been 
created  on  Friday  afternoon  before  Sabbath  ;  see  Gen.  Rabba, 
vii.  7 ;  Pirqe  Aboth,  v.  9,  where  ihey  are  included  in  the  category 
of  mythical  phenomena. 


614 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Jewish) 


able  ;  so  also  does  the  mention  of  the  action  of  heat 
on  food  and  on  animals  (cf.  the  danger  of  sleeping 
under  the  rays  of  the  moon  [Pes.  Ilia,  near  foot]). 

Closely  allied  to  spirits  which  are  embodiments 
of  natural  phenomena  are  those  which  affect  man 
in  his  daily  life.  In  the  Gemara  on  the  tenth 
Mishna  of  Pesahim  many  are  mentioned.  Under 
the  guise  of  demons,  they  teach  lessons  in  cleanli- 
ness, sobriety,  care,  and  economy.  For  instance, 
'  Res  Laqis  says :  "  Whosoever  does  one  of  the  following  four 
things  risks  his  life,  and  his  blood  is  on  his  own  head,  namely  : 
he  who  performs  his  natural  functions  between  a  palm  tree  and 
a  wall ;  he  who  passes  between  two  palm  trees  ;  he  who  drinks 
borrowed  water  ;  he  who  passes  over  spilt  water,  even  if  his  own 
wife  has  spilled  it  in  his  presence."  ' 

It  is  unnecessary  to  show  what  points  underlie 
these  warnings,  which  are,  moreover,  still  further 
discussed  in  the  Gemara ;  but  it  is  well  to  note 
that  the  form  of  the  warning  has  changed  some- 
what. The  demon  is  implied,  but  not  actually 
expressed.     Similar  instances  are  the  following : 

'  The  Genius  (N1D,N  =  Pers.  izad ;  so  Goldschmidt,  in  his  tr.  of 
Jer.,  p.  7111)  of  sustenance  is  called  Cleanliness  ;  the  Genius  of 
poverty  is  called  Dirt.'  R.  Papa  says  :  *  A  man  should  not  enter 
a  house  in  which  there  is  a  cat,  barefooted.  Why  ?  Because  a 
cat  kills  and  devours  serpents,  and  serpents  have  small  bones  ; 
should  one  of  these  bones  enter  his  foot,  it  could  not  be  dislodged 
and  would  become  dangerous.  Others  say  that  a  man  should 
not  enter  a  house  in  which  there  is  no  cat,  by  night.  Why  ? 
Because  a  serpent  could,  unknown  to  him,  become  attached  to 
him.'1 

One  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  Hebrew  language, 
as  compared  with  Greek,  is  its  paucity  of  abstract 
nouns.  Although  Aramaic,  especially  that  dialect 
in  which  the  Talmud  is  composed,  has  a  far  larger 
vocabulary  than  Mishnic  Hebrew,  yet  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  the  mind  of  the  Jew  preferred  nouns 
of  a  concrete  meaning.  This  fact  deserves  recogni- 
tion when  considering  demonology.  The  vocabu- 
lary contained  no  word  which  could  adequately 
render  such  terms  as  '  dirt,'  '  infection,'  '  hygiene,' 
etc.,  and  in  dealing  with  scientific  terms  it  was, 
and  is  still,  a  matter  of  extreme  difficulty  to  find 
suitable  translations.  This  fact  will  be  evident  to 
any  one  who  attempts  to  render  into  classical  or 
even  Mishnic  Hebrew  a  piece  of  philosophical  prose 
which  could  be  turned  into  classical  Greek  with 
facility.  Consequently  the  personification  of  a 
quality  is  sometimes  to  be  disregarded,  and  the 
underlying  principle  must  be  extracted.  It  might 
be  urged  that  the  Greek  no  less  than  the  Hebrew 
people  had  its  demons  ;  but  other  circumstances, 
which  will  readily  suggest  themselves,  have  to  be 
taken  into  account.  Instances  of  this  kind  are  the 
following  : 

In  Yoma,  776,  reference  is  made  to  the  demon  XFOT,  whose 
name  also  occurs  in  Ta'anith,  20b,  where  the  kind  actions  of  R. 
Huna  are  enumerated.  Shibtd  clings  to  the  finger-tips  and 
afflicts  people,  especially  young  children,  who  eat  with  unwashed 
hands.  R.  Huna  was  acquainted  with  this  demon,  and  used  to 
place  a  jar  of  water  ready,  saying,  '  Whosoever  wishes,  let  him 
come  and  wash  his  hands  so  as  to  avoid  the  danger  from  the 
Shibta.'  Kohler  (JE,  art.  '  Demonology,'  p.  617,  foot)  associates 
Shibta  with  croup.  Id  the  same  way  the  Shullian  'Aruhh  pre- 
serves an  early  reference  to  the  evil  spirit  which  clings  to  a  man's 
unwashed  finger-tips,  and  urges  the  necessity  of  washing  them. 
It  is  scarcely  conceivable  that  the  evil  spirit  in  this  case  can  have 
any  other  meaning  than  dirt; — a  word  for  which  the  Heb.  lan- 
guage does  not  contain  an  appropriate  equivalent. 

It  is  possible  that  the  demon  Lilith  (see  Is  34"  ;  'Erubhin,  18b, 
100b  ;  Gen.  R.  xx.)  belongs  to  this  category.  Adam  is  said  to 
have  married  Lilith  in  addition  to  Eve,  and  filled  the  world  with 
shedim  and  demons  of  every  description,  which  she  bore  him. 
Then,  seized  with  jealousy  of  Eve's  children,  she  attacks  and 
attempts  to  slay  newly-born  infants.  The  story  recalls  the  myth 
of  LatoDa's  anger  against  the  children  of  Niobe,  but  perhaps  the 
Lilith  idea  is  a  personification  of  the  perils  which  beset  women 
in  child-birth. 

Kohler  (loc.  cit.)  enumerates  many  instances  of  demons  of 
disease ;  e.g.  rtuih  geradq,  catalepsy ;  ruah  palga,  headache  ; 
ben  n'fUtm,  epilepsy  ;  ruab  qardeyaqos  (sapSiaicds),  melancholy ; 

1  In  this  case,  although  the  demon  has  become  completely 
rationalized,  the  warning  is  addressed  to  a  man's  common  sense, 
and  not  to  his  fear  of  the  supernatural.  Yet  it  must  be  borne 
In  mind  that  Papa,  a  Bab.  Amora  (a.d.  300-376),  was  noted  for 
his  belief  in  demons.  Cf.  especially  the  \an  vn  recited  at  the 
end  of  a  massekhta. 


for  all  of  which  suitable  Heb.  equivalents  are  lacking  ;  it  cannot 
be  from  pure  choice  that  demonology  was  called  upon  to  furnish 
descriptive  titles. 

There  are  cases  in  which  demons  and  spirits 
are  cited  as  playing  pranks  of  a  harmless  or 
even  amusing  character,  comparable  to  those  of 
fairies  and  kelpies  in  folk-lore.  The  fact  that  such 
stories  are  found  in  most  abstruse  portions  of  the 
Gemara  supports  the  idea  above  suggested.  Chil- 
dren accompanied  the  Rabbis  and  listened  to  their 
discussions,  and  a  story  of  the  marvellous  and 
supernatural  may  have  been  purposely  introduced 
in  order  to  stimulate  wandering  wits  or  as  a  reward 
for  diligent  attention. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  in 
many  cases  the  demon  is  of  a  purely  superstitious 
nature,  e.g.  Berakhoth,  6a : 

'  It  is  taught :  Abba  Benjamin  says,  "  Were  mortal  eye  capabli 
of  seeing  everything,  it  would  be  impossible  for  any  human  being 
to  exist  on  account  of  the  Mazziqim  ('Harmers')."  Abbaye 
says,  "  They  are  more  numerous  than  we,  and  surround  us  as 
the  mounds  of  earth  (thrown  up  by  the  plough)  surround  the 
furrow."  R.  Huna  says,  "  Each  of  us  has  a  thousand  on  his  left, 
and  a  myriad  on  his  right."  Rabba  says,  "The  jostling  at  lec- 
tures is  due  to  them,  weariness  of  the  knees  is  due  to  them,  the 
wearing  out  of  the  clothes  of  the  Rabbis  is  due  to  their  rubbing, 
tottering  feet  are  due  to  them.  Whoever  wishes  to  know  them, 
let  him  take  sifted  ashes  and  strew  them  round  his  bed,  and  in 
the  morning  their  traces  will  be  seen  as  of  the  footprints  of  a 
cock.  He  who  wishes  to  see  them  must  take  the  after-birth  of  a 
black  cat,  the  daughter  of  a  black  cat,  the  firstborn  of  a  first- 
born ;  let  him  burn  it  with  fire,  pound  it  up,  and  smear  his  eyes 
therewith  ;  then  he  will  see  them.  Let  him  cast  them  into  an 
iron  tube  and  seal  them  with  an  iron  seal-ring,  lest  they  steal 
aught.  Let  him  keep  his  mouth  (perhaps  the  mouth  of  the 
tube)  closed,  lest  he  be  injured.  R.  Bibi  b.  Abbaye  did  this,  but 
he  suffered  injury ;  so  the  Rabbis  prayed  for  him,  and  he  was 
cured."' 

This  extract  contains  both  the  playful  and  the 
superstitious  elements,  but  it  is  very  hard  to  ob- 
serve the  distinction.  It  is  also  a  matter  of  no 
small  difficulty  to  determine  how  far  the  belief  in 
demons  was  actual  or  superficial,  or,  if  actual, 
whether  good,  innocuous,  or  definitely  harmful. 
It  is  to  be  regarded  as  an  evil  thing  for  a  man  to 
regulate  his  conduct  by  his  belief  in  spirits,  but 
great  objection  cannot  be  raised  to  a  bare  acknow- 
ledgment of  their  existence.  A  child's  life  would 
be  empty  without  fairy  stories  ;  even  to-day  the 
personification  of  the  spirit  of  Christmas  festivity  re- 
ceives good-natured  toleration.  Religious  thinkers 
belonging  to  most  heterogeneous  schools  of  thought 
accept  angelology  and  demonology  as  a  necessary 
concomitant  of  religion.  The  presence  of  both  is 
essential  to  that  mystic  element  from  which  no 
religion  is  or  should  be  entirely  divorced.  But  the 
force  of  the  imaginative  faculty  becomes  baneful 
when  it  invades  the  sphere  of  reason  and  subverts 
reason  itself.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  establish 
a  hard  and  fast  rule  in  these  cases. 

The  demonology  of  the  Qabbala,  and  also  of  the 
later  Rabbinic  writings,  is  extremely  interesting. 
Many  beautiful  Minhagim  of  Jewish  ceremonial 
are  derived  from  Qabbala,  which  assumes  a  mystic 
connexion  between  things  terrestrial  and  celestial, 
and  symbolically  identifies  the  form  with  the 
matter. 

The  prayer  at  the  blowing  of  the  ram's  horn  on  New  Year's 
day  makes  the  notes  of  the  snqfar  into  angelsascending  to  the 
Divine  Throne,  while  inability  to  blow  the  shofar  is  due  to  the 
ye$er  ha^rd'  ('  evil  inclination,  lust ')  which  intercepts  man's  holy 
thoughts  and  robs  him  of  kdwwdndh  ('  devotion  ')  and  ability  to 
produce  a  note.  So,  too,  on  Friday  night,  when  a  man  returns 
from  the  synagogue  to  his  home,  which  is  prepared  to  receive 
the  Sabbath  bride  in  peace  and  love,  two  good  angels  accompany 
him  and  bless  him,  while  the  evil  angel  is  constrained  to  say 
Amen.  But,  if  the  man's  thoughts  are  not  properly  attuned,  and 
if  the  reception  of  the  bride  is  neglected,  the  good  angels  sorrow- 
fully depart  and  the  evil  angel  prevails. 

In  such  cases  the  spirits  are  to  be  explained  as 
graphic  representations  of  the  frame  of  mind  of  the 
man,  poetically  expressed,  and  with  these  the 
Sal/iav  of  Socrates  may  be  compared  ;  it  is  in  such 
circumstances  undoubtedly  that  the  prophylactics 
suggested  by  the  Rabbis  were  meant  to  apply. 
The  recital  of  verses  of  Scripture,  especially  of  the 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Muslim) 


615 


Psalms,  and  the  observance  of  t'phillin,  mfzUza, 
and  stsith,  were  intended  to  prove  a  balm  to  a 
troubled  mind,  and  to  divert  distraught  fancies, 
but  not  to  have  a  therapeutic  effect  on  the  body.1 

Nevertheless,  the  belief  among  mediaeval  Rabbis 
as  to  the  actuality  of  spirits  seems  to  have  been 
real.  Maimonides  and  Ibn  Ezra  form  very  striking 
exceptions  (cf.  Ibn  Ezra  on  Lv  177,  and  contrast 
Nahmanides  quoted  by  Kohler,  loc.  cit.  ;  cf.  also 
Eashi  on  Dt  3224  and  Job  5"). 

Summary. — (1)  Belief  in  the  existence  of  spirits 
cannot  be  denied,  but  (2)  it  was  largely  limited  to 
Galilee  and  Babylonia.  Palestine,  on  the  whole, 
was  free  from  it,  and  (3)  in  some  cases  other  ex- 
planations must  be  sought :  (a)  natural  phenomena, 
(b)  absence  of  terms  for  abstract  nouns,  (c)  the 
occasional  root  of  social  and  other  precepts  in  man's 
fondness  for  the  supernatural,  {a)  playful  spirits 
and  fairy  stories,  and  (e)  the  action  of  mysticism 
on  the  pious  mind.  (4)  It  is  difficult  to  estimate 
the  extent  to  which  credence  was  given  to  the 
actuality  of  spirits  and  to  which  this  belief  in- 
fluenced personal  conduct. 

Literature. — M.  Griinbaum,  Neue  Beitrdge  zur  semitischen 
Sagentomde,  Leyden,  1893 ;  L.  Blau,  AUjiid.  Zauberwesen, 
Strassburg,  1898  ;  K.  Kohler,  art.  '  Demonology,'  in  JB  iv.  514. 
A.  Kohut,  Angelologie  und  Ddmonologie  in  ihrer  Abhdngigheit 
vom  Parsismus  (1896),  is  the  chief  work.  Talmudie  references 
may  be  consulted  in  Rodkinson's  tr.  (New  York,  1901),  or  pre- 
ferably in  L.  Goldschmidt  (text  and  tr.,  Berlin,  1897). 

Herbert  Loewe. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Muslim).— Besides 
the  gods  to  whom  they  devoted  a  regular  cult,  the 
ancient  Arabs  recognized  a  series  of  inferior  spirits, 
whom  they  conciliated  or  conjured  by  magical 
practices.  In  this  matter,  as  in  others,  Muhammad 
preserved  the  ancient  beliefs  by  adapting  them  to 
the  new  religion,  in  such  a  way  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  distinguish  which  elements  in  his 
teaching  are  sprung  from  his  inward  conviction 
and  which  are  simply  a  concession  to  the  doctrine 
of  his  compatriots.  To  these  notions — Muhammad's 
inheritance,  so  to  speak — are  added  outside  ele- 
ments, Jewish  and  Christian,  themselves  derived 
from  Chaldaea  and  Parsiism.  It  seems  impossible 
to  give  a  precise  account  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
Quran  on  the  subject  of  spirits,  for  even  the  very 
earliest  commentators  are  hedged  around  with  in- 
numerable traditions,  which  it  is  anything  but 
easy  to  criticize.  It  may  be  said,  however,  that 
the  Qur'an  traces  out  all  the  main  divisions  of  the 
system  :  angels,  servants  of  Allah  ;  Satan  and  his 
horde  who  animate  the  images  of  false  gods ; 
lastly,  the  jinn,  some  of  whom  are  believers,  some 
unbelievers.  If  it  indicates  the  existence  of  several 
categories  of  angels,  it  nevertheless  names  only 
two,  viz.  Jabril  and  Mika'U  ;  for  Hariit  and  Marut 
are  fallen  angels  with  a  Satanic  r61e. 

However,  just  as  Judaism,  under  the  influence 
of  the  Qabbala,  multiplied  its  list  of  spirits, 
and  Christianity  set  up  in  battle  array  its  armies 
of  angels  and  demons,  •  Islam  also  found  in  this 
belief  and  in  the  magic  struggle  for  the  favour,  or 
against  the  attacks,  of  spirits  an  element  of  re- 
action against  the  cold,  aloof  unity  of  Allah. 
From  Judaism  and  Christianity  Islam  learned  the 
names  of  spirits  not  known  before,  and  it  gave 
them  definite  forms,  in  descriptions  which  grew  in 
bulk  during  the  favourable  stages  of  anthropomor- 

Ehism  and  the  haushiya,  and  then  gained  in  co- 
erence  under  the  influence  of  Mu'  tazilitism.    This 
doctrine  we  shall  discuss  in  a  few  lines. 

Islam  recognizes  three  classes  of  living  beings 
higher  than  man  :  angels  (malak,  plur.  mald'ika) ; 
demons  (shaitdn,  plur.  shaydtin) ;  and  jinn.  The 
essential  and  common  characteristic  of  these  beings 
is  that  they  are  formed  from  one  single  substance, 
1  Compare  Sank.  x.  1,  where  incantations  over  wounds  are  for- 
bidden. He  who  practises  these  has  no  share  in  the  world  to 
come,  for  he  has  doubted  God's  omnipotence. 


instead  of  from  a  combination  of  substances  like 
the  human  body. 

Among  these  spirits,  the  front  rank  is  occupied 
by  the  angels ;  they  are  Allah's  bodyguard,  and 
do  his  will  and  obey  his  word.  According  to 
Kazwini  (i.  55),  '  the  angels  are  beings  formed  from 
a  single  substance,  endowed  with  life,  speech,  and 
reason.'  Authorities  are  not  agreed  as  to  the 
characteristics  that  distinguish  them  from  demons 
and  jinn ;  according  to  some,  they  differ  in  their 
very  nature,  just  as  one  species  of  terrestrial 
animal  differs  from  another ;  others  are  of  opinion 
that  the  difference  is  only  in  contingencies,  or  re- 
lativities, such  as  are  contained  in  the  notions  of 
complete  and  incomplete,  good  and  bad,  etc.  The 
angels  are  essentially  sacred,  untouched  by  the 
guilt  of  passion  or  the  stains  of  anger.  They  are 
in  constant  attendance  upon  the  commands  of 
Allah.  Their  food  is  tasbih  (the  recitation  of  the 
formula  '  Glory  to  Allah  ! '),  and  their  drink  is 
taqdis  ('Allah  is  holy  !').  Their  occupation  is  to 
repeat  the  name  of  Allah,  and  all  their  joy  is  in 
his  worship.  Allah  created  them  and  gave  them 
diverse  forms,  that  they  might  fulfil  his  commands 
and  people  the  heavens.  The  prophet  said  :  '  The 
heavens  crack,  and  cannot  but  crack,  for  there  is 
not  a  hand's-breadth  of  space  to  be  found  in  them 
without  an  angel  bending  or  prostrating  himself 
before  Allah.' 

The  Arabic  word  malak,  the  general  word  for 
angel,  means  '  sent,'  and  is  a  Jewish  loan-word. 
It  has  lost  its  true  form  mal'ak,  which  survives, 
however,  in  the  characteristic  form  of  the  plural 
mald'ika.  The  exact  pronunciation  was  as  in  pre- 
Islamic  Arabia,  as  we  know  from  a  verse  of  Abu 
Wajra,  quoted  in  the  Lisan  al-'Arab  (xii.  386), 
where  it  is  necessary  to  the  metre.  But  a  certain 
number  of  angels  had  special  names,  which  will  be 
mentioned  later  on,  partly  derived  from  the  Qur'an. 
It  seems  useless  to  quote  all  the  verses  of  the  Book 
where  angels  are  mentioned ;  we  shall  therefore 
notice  only  the  most  interesting. 

The  greatest  of  the  angels — those  honoured  by 
all  the  others  as  dearest  to  their  Lord — are  the 
four  throne-bearers  of  Allah  (hamalat  al-arsh), 
whose  number  will  be  doubled  on  the  resurrection 
day.  Their  duty  is,  besides,  to  praise  Allah  and 
implore  him  on  behalf  of  true  believers.  Muslim 
legend  gives  them  the  form  of  the  four  beings  who 
passed  into  Christianity  with  the  Apocalypse  to 
symbolize  the  evangelists :  man,  bull,  eagle,  and 
lion.  This  legend  defines  further  the  relations 
established  by  their  form  between  each  of  them 
and  a  class  of  living  beings  on  earth  :  the  first 
angel  is  humanity's  intercessor  before  Allah ;  the 
second  pleads  for  domestic  animals  ;  the  third  for 
birds  ;  and  the  fourth  for  savage  beasts. 

The  cherubim  (karubiyun)  are  angelB  who  are 
absolutely  absorbed  in  the  holiness  of  Allah ; 
their  function  is  to  repeat  the  tasbih  ('Glory  to 
Allah  ! ')  unfalteringly  all  day  and  all  night.  They 
seem  to  inhabit  a  secluded  part  of  the  sky,  where 
they  live  in  peace,  far  removed  from  the  attacks 
of  the  devil,  Tblis. 

There  are  four  angels  who  have  a  distinct  per- 
sonality and  are  each  known  by  a  separate  name  : 
Jabril  (Gabriel),  Mlka'il  (Michael),  'Azra'il,  and 
'Israfil.  Authorities  class  these  in  a  special 
group :  these  four  archangels  will  be  the  last  to 
die  at  the  end  of  the  world.  Jabril  (or  Jabra'Il, 
Jibril,  and  sometimes  Jibrin)  is,  above  all,  the 
angel  of  revelation  Camin  al-wahi) :  he  was  the 
messenger  sent  by  Allah  to  the  prophets  and 
particularly  to  Muhammad.  His  formidable  ap- 
pearance would  overawe  men,  and  so  he  has  to 
appear  in  disguise  to  the  prophets.  Muhammad 
entreated  him  to  reveal  himself  to  him  as  he  really 
was,  and  Jabril  consented ;  but,  when  he  appeared, 


616 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Muslim) 


immense,  and  covering  the  whole  horizon  with  his 
wings,  the  Prophet  fainted  away.  Even  the  in- 
habitants of  the  sky  were  alarmed  by  him.  When 
Allah  sent  him  to  deliver  the  Word  to  a  prophet, 
they  heard  a  noise  like  the  dragging  of  chains 
over  rocks,  and  so  terrible  that  they  swooned. 
When  Jabrll  approached  them,  they  recovered 
their  senses,  and  asked  what  the  Lord  had  said  to 
him :  '  The  Truth '  (al-Haqq),  replied  the  angel, 
and  all  repeated:  'Al-Haqq,  al-Haqq!'  This 
function  of  Jabrll  is  explained  in  Arabic  by 
terms  analogous  to  those  mentioned  above  :  he  is 
the  'guardian  of  holiness'  (hazin  al-quds),  the 
'  faithful  spirit '  (ar-ruh  al-'amln),  the  '  holy 
spirit '  (ar-7-uh  al-quds) ;  in  which  terms  we  see 
a  borrowing  from  Christianity.  He  is  also  the 
'  supreme  confidant '  (an-namus  al-'akbar),  and 
the  'peacock  of  the  angels'  (ta'us  al-mala'lka). 
His  role,  however,  is  not  restricted  to  the  carrying 
of  revelation. 

A  tradition  says  that,  when  the  Prophet  asked  him  to  reveal 
all  his  power,  Jabril  answered  :  '  On  my  two  wings  I  bore  the 
country  of  the  people  of  Loth,  and  carried  it  up  into  the  air  so 
high  that  its  inhabitants  could  no  longer  hear  their  cocks 
crow ;  then  I  turned  it  upside  down.' 
It  is  also  said  that  he  has  assistants  who  watch 
over  the  welfare  of  the  world.  Schwab  (Angilol. 
hib.,  1897,  p.  91)  notices  some  characteristics  of 
his  various  functions.  The  most  simple  descrip- 
tions give  him  six  huge  wings,  each  composed  of 
a  hundred  little  ones  ;  he  has  also  two  other  wings 
which  he  uses  to  destroy  rebel  cities.  But  later 
texts  show  Jabril  provided  with  sixteen  hundred 
wings,  and  covered  with  saffron  hairs;  a  sun  shines 
between  his  eyes,  a  moon  and  stars  between  every 
two  hairs.  He  enters  the  Sea  of  Light  (Bahr  an- 
Nur)  three  hundred  and  sixty  times  every  day ; 
and  every  time  he  comes  out  of  it  a  million  drops 
fall  from  his  wings,  and  form  the  angels  called 
'  Spiritual '  (Riihaniya), '  because  they  spread  abroad 
spirit,  peace,  and  perfumes '  (ar-ruh  w'ar-raha  utar- 
rihari).  Jabrll  was  created  five  hundred  years 
after  Mlka'Il.  He  is  named  three  times  in  the 
Qur'an  (ii.  91,  92,  lxvi.  4) ;  but  he  also  appears 
under  other  names  (ii.  81,  254,  v.  109,  where  he  is 
the  annunciator  to  Mary ;  xvi.  104,  xxvi.  193, 
liv.  5,  etc.).  In  ii.  92,  Mlka'Il  (in  the  form  Mikal) 
is  mentioned  after  Jabrll,  to  reply ,  the  com- 
mentaries say,  to  the  Jews,  who  regarded  the 
former  as  their  ally  and  the  latter  as  their  enemy, 
and  gave  this  as  a  pretext  for  rejecting  the  re- 
velation brought  to  Muhammad  by  Jabril  (Tabari, 
Tafsir,  i.  330). 

Mlka'Il  (Michael)  is  the  angel  charged  with  pro- 
viding food  for  the  body,  and  knowledge  and 
prudence  for  the  mind.  He  is  the  supreme  con- 
troller of  all  the  forces  of  Nature.  From  each  of 
his  eyes  there  fall  a  thousand  tears,  from  each  of 
which  Allah  creates  an  angel  with  the  same  form 
as  Michael.  Singing  praises  to  Allah  until  the 
day  of  judgment,  they  watch  over  the  life  of  the 
world  ;  these  are  the  karubiyun  (cherubim).  Being 
Michael's  assistants,  they  control  the  rain,  plants, 
and  fruits ;  every  plant  on  the  earth,  every  tree, 
every  drop  of  water,  is  under  the  care  of  one  of 
them.  The  earliest  traditions  locate  Michael  in 
the  seventh  heaven,  on  the  borders  of  the  Full  Sea 
(al-Bahr  al-Masjur),  which  is  crowded  with  an 
innumerable  array  of  angels ;  Allah  alone  knows 
his  form  and  the  number  of  his  wings.  Later  on, 
however,  the  descriptions  become  more  precise : 
his  wings  are  of  the  colour  of  green  emerald  ;  he  is 
covered  with  saffron  'hairs,  and  each  of  them  con- 
tains a  million  faces  and  mouths,  and  as  many 
tongues  which,  in  a  million  dialects,  implore  the 
pardon  of  Allah ;  from  a  million  eyes  that  weep 
over  the  sins  of  the  faithful  fall  the  tears  from 
which  Allah  formed  the  cherubim.  Michael  was 
created  five  hundred  years  after  Tsraf II.    The  con- 


ception that  arises  from  the  representation  of  the 
forces  of  Nature  in  the  form  of  angels  distributed 
throughout  the  world  is  decidedly  pantheistic ;  it 
was  developed  in  a  most  curious  manner  by  late 
Arabic  traditions  which  have  been  summarized  by 
Kazwlnl  (i.  62  f.).  As  we  might  have  expected,  a 
hadith  was  the  origin  of  this  idea : 

Around  each  man  appeared  a  hundred  and  sixty  angels 
'flitting  round  him,  like  flies  around  a  pot  of  honey  on  a 
summer  day ' ;  these  are  the  Agents  of  Beings  (Maukulat  al- 
Kd'indt).  They  are  the  forces  of  nutrition,  and  endow  the  inert 
food  introduced  into  the  body  of  man  with  the  power  of 
becoming  flesh,  bone,  and  blood.  They  have  to  watch  that 
the  organism  preserves  what  is  necessary  to  it  and  gets  rid  of 
superfluous  matter  ;  that  each  organ  plays  its  part  and  not  the 
part  of  any  other.  The  whole  mysterious  development  of  life 
is  thus  put  into  the  light  fingers  of  heavenly  workmen. 

To  these  we  must  add  still  another  angel  called 
the  Spirit,  or  the  Breath  (ar-Buh),  which  may  well 
be  only  a  new  form  of  Jabrll.  To  him  and  to  his 
incarnations  Allah  entrusted  the  duty  of  bringing 
motion  to  the  heavenly  spheres  and  the  stars,  and 
of  animating  the  sublunary  bodies  and  living  beings. 
Just  as  he  can  make  the  heavenly  bodies  perform 
their  revolutions,  he  can  also  stop  them  in  their 
course — with  Allah's  permission. 

The  third  of  the  angels  of  definite  personality  is 
mentioned  in  the  Qur'an  (xxxii.  11)  under  the 
name  of  malaku  'l-maut ;  but  tradition  calls  him 
'Azra'il. 

After  Allah  created  the  angel  of  death,  'Azra'il, 
he  kept  him  hidden  for  a  time  from  the  other 
angels.  When  he  showed  him  to  them,  they  all 
fell  into  a  faint  which  lasted  a  thousand  years. 
This  terrible  being,  who  plays  so  important  a  part 
in  the  existence  of  the  world,  and  who  is  every- 
where at  once,  is  only  a  passive  agent  of  AHan's 
will ;  Allah  holds  death  in  his  hands.  Muslim 
writers  insist  on  this  fact ;  for  it  was  possible  to 
believe,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  terrible  angel 
of  death  himself  executed  the  decrees  which  Allah 
had  inscribed  upon  the  '  Well-guarded  Tablet  of 
Destiny '  (al-luh  al-mahfuz) ;  but  this  is  not  the 
case.  Azra'il  does  nothing  without  the  express 
command  of  Allah.  He  knows  nothing  but  what 
Allah  tells  him.  He  receives  from  Allah  the 
leaves  upon  which  the  names  of  those  who  are 
about  to  die  are  written.  It  is  only  in  details  that 
the  traditions  differ.  According  to  some,  the 
guardian  angel  comes  and  warns  'Azra'il  that  the 
man  under  his  care  is  approaching  his  last  moments. 
The  angel  of  death  notes  the  name  of  the  dying 
man  in  his  register,  with  a  white  mark  in  the  case 
of  a  believer,  with  a  black  mark  in  the  case  of 
others.  But  he  waits  until  a  leaf  falls  from  the 
tree  that  is  by  the  throne  of  Allah  ('arsk)  with  the 
dying  man's  name  inscribed  on  it.  According  to 
others,  this  leaf  falls  from  the  tree  forty  days 
before  the  death  of  the  man,  who  is  living  upon 
the  earth  during  this  interval  but  dead  in  the  sky. 
Still  another  account  is  that  an  angel  sent  by 
Allah  brings  to  'Azra'il  the  list  of  men  who  are  to 
die  during  the  year  :  this  message  no  doubt  comes 
to  him  on  the  '  night  of  destiny '  (lailat  al-qadar), 
which  is  at  the  middle  of  the  month  Sha'ban,  and 
during  which  the  pious  man,  rapt  in  prayer,  may 
see,  across  a  hollow  of  the  sky,  the  leaf  on  which 
his  name  is  written  falling  from  the  tree. 

All  our  authorities  agree  in  believing  that  the 
angel  of  death  is  present  wherever  a  man  is  ceasing 
from  life,  and  this  presence  is  anthropomorphized 
in  stories  the  wide  diffusion  of  which  proves  its 
popularity:  the  story,  e.g.,  of  the  proud  king 
and  the  beggar  is  world-wide  (Tabari,  Ghazali, 
Mustatref,  etc.).  Some  explain  this  multiple 
presence  by  saying  that  the  angel  of  death  has 
assistants  ('divan)  who  make  the  man's  soul  rise 
up  to  his  throat,  whence  'Azra'U  comes  and  takes 
it.  Others  represent  the  terrible  angel  in  the  form 
of  a  vague,  formidable  being,  whose  feet  rest  upon 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Muslim) 


617 


the  borders  of  the  world ;  his  head  reaches  the 
highest  heaven,  and  his  face  looks  towards  the 
Tablet  of  Destiny.  But  this  description  did  not 
seem  satisfying,  and  writers  accordingly  give  him 
seventy  thousand  feet  and  four  thousand  wings, 
while  his  body  is  provided  with  as  many  eyes  and 
tongues  as  there  are  men  in  the  world.  Every 
time  a  being  dies,  one  of  these  eyes  closes,  and  at 
the  end  of  the  world  only  eight  eyes  will  be  open, 
since  there  will  be  only  eight  beings  alive — the 
four  archangels  and  the  four  throne-bearers. 
Azra'il  has  four  faces,  each  of  which  is  reserved 
for  a  special  class  of  beings  :  the  face  on  his  head 
is  for  prophets  and  angels,  that  on  his  chest  is  for 
believers,  that  on  his  back  for  unbelievers,  and 
that  on  his  feet  for  the  jinn. 

The  angel  of  death  consigns  the  souls  he  has 
seized  to  the  angels  of  compassion  (mala'ikat  ar- 
rahma)  or  to  the  angels  of  punishment  (mala'ikat 
al-adhab),  according  as  they  are  believers  or  un- 
believers ;  but  certain  authors  say  that  it  is  the 
angels  assisting  'Azra'il  who  themselves  carry  oil' 
the  soul  with  gentleness  or  roughly.  It  is  also  said 
that  'Azra'il,  with  Allah's  permission,  calls  the 
souls,  and  they  come  and  place  themselves  between 
the  two  first  fingers  of  his  hand.  Lastly,  accord- 
ing to  still  others,  'Azra'il  gathers  the  believing 
souls  together,  with  his  right  hand,  in  a  white  silk 
cloth  perfumed  with  musk,  and  sends  them  to  the 
farthest  summits  of  heaven  (al- aliyyln),  while  the 
souls  of  unbelievers  are  crowded  into  a  rag  coated 
with  tar-water  and  launched  into  the  depths  of 
hell  (as-sijjin). 

No  man  can  escape  'Azra'il ;  it  is  impossible  to 
cheat  him  even  by  being  instantly  transported 
by  magical  means  to  the  very  ends  of  the  earth : 
'Azra'il  is  there  in  an  instant.  This  is  seen  in  the 
story  of  Solomon  and  the  young  man  who  was 
carried  to  China  by  his  jinn  ;  this  popular  story  is 
found  everywhere  (Tabart,  Ghazali,  Wolff,  The 
1001  Nights,  Mustatref,  etc.).  The  Qur'an  com- 
mentators, however,  insist  on  the  amicable  relations 
which  Solomon  vowed  with  'Azra'il,  though  he  had 
started  by  fainting  at  the  sight  of  the  angel  in  his 
true  shape. 

TsrafU  is,  according  to  the  formula  given  by 
Kazwini,  the  angel  who  brings  the  orders  of  Allah 
to  their  proper  destination,  and  who  puts  the  soul 
into  the  body.  He  is  the  angel  of  whom  the  Qur'an 
speaks  without  naming  him  (vi.  73,  lxxx.  33,  etc.), 
and  who  is  to  sound  the  trumpet  of  the  last  judgment 
(sur).  '  The  master  of  the  trumpet  (sahib  al-qarn),' 
says  a  hadlth,  '  puts  the  trumpet  to  his  lips,  and, 
with  gaze  fixed  upon  the  throne,  waits  for  the 
command  to  blow.  At  the  first  blast,  the  blast  of 
terror  (nafliat  al-faz'),  everything  will  perish  in 
the  heavens  and  on  the  earth,  except  what  Allah 
wills,'  i.e.,  according  to  different  opinions,  except 
the  eight  angels  mentioned  above,  or  only  the  four 
archangels,  who  will  perish  in  the  following  order  : 
Jabrll,  Mika'U,  Tsrafil,  and,  last  of  all,  the  angel 
of  death.  After  forty  years  passed  in  Barzah, 
Tsrafil  will  be  re-born  and  will  sound  the  second 
blast,  the  blast  of  resurrection  (nafhat  al-bdth) : 
all  the  souls,  gathered  together  in  the  bell  of  his 
trumpet,  which  is  as  vast  as  the  heavens  and  the 
earth,  will  fly  like  a  swarm  of  bees  to  the  bodies 
they  are  about  to  animate.  While  this  is  the 
essential  function  of  Tsrafil,  it  is  not  his  only 
function.  When  Allah  wishes  to  give  a  command 
to  men,  he  orders  the  Pen  (qalam)  to  write  upon 
the  Tablet  of  Destiny  (luh).  This  he  gives  to 
Tsrafil,  who  places  it  between  his  eyes,  and  transmits 
it  to  Mlka'Il.  Mika'U  gets  the  command  performed 
by  his  assistants,  who  represent,  as  mentioned 
above,  the  forces  of  Nature.  Authors  describe 
Tsrafil  under  a  form  borrowed  from  a  hadlth  of 
'A'isha,  repeating  the  words  of  Ka'b  al-'Ahbar,  i.e. 


the  Jewish  tradition.  Tsrafil  has  four  wings  :  with 
the  first  he  closes  up  the  East ;  with  the  second  the 
West ;  with  the  third  he  covers  the  earth  ;  and 
with  the  fourth  he  veils  his  face  before  the  Almighty 
Power  of  Allah.  His  feet  are  under  the  seventh 
world,  while  his  head  reaches  up  to  the  foot  of  the 
throne.  A  late  and  strange  story  (Wolff,  p.  14) 
shows  him  weeping  so  copiously  at  the  sight  of  hell 
that  Allah  has  to  stop  his  tears  because  they 
threaten  to  renew  the  Flood  of  Noah. 

After  a  dead  man  has  been  placed  in  the  tomb, 
and  his  friends  have  left  him,  and  he  has  heard  the 
sound  of  their  retreating  steps,  two  formidable 
angels,  Munkar  and  Naklr,  come  and  sit  by  his 
side,  and  ask  him  :  '  What  say  you  of  this  man  (i.e. 
Muhammad)  ? '  The  believer  (mu'min)  replies  : 
'  I  bear  witness  that  he  is  the  prophet  of  Allah  and 
his  servant.'  Then  the  two  angels  show  him  the 
place  which  he  might  have  occupied  in  hell,  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  place  which  he  will  gain  in 
paradise.  The  false  believer  (mundfiq)  and  the 
unbeliever  (kcifir)  will  reply  to  the  same  question  : 
'I  do  not  know;  I  said  what  the  others  said.' 
Then  the  two  angels  will  beat  him  with  iron  rods 
so  that  he  will  utter  a  cry  which  will  be  heard  by 
men  and  jinn.  According  to  other  traditions,  the 
questions  will  be  asked  by  a  special  angel,  called 
Kuman,  who,  if  necessary,  will  deliver  the  dead 
person  over  to  the  punishment  of  the  two  angels  of 
the  tomb.  Others,  again,  say  that  the  angel 
placed  in  charge  of  the  departed  will  question  him, 
and  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  tomb  will  contract, 
almost  crushing  the  man  dwelling  within  it,  until 
the  first  Friday  of  Rajab.  The  believer  who  dies 
on  a  Friday  is  exempt  from  the  questioning  at  the 
tomb.  The  name  of  these  two  angels  is  derived 
from  a  root  nakar,  '  to  deny ' ;  we  here  find  the 
parallelism  dear  to  Hebrew  traditions,  and  the 
presence  of  the  initial  M  in  one  of  the  names — two 
souvenirs  of  Parsiism  and  Ancient  Persia. 

Man  is  guarded  night  and  day  by  the  hafaza 
angels,  '  who  protect  him  from  jinn,  men,  and 
Satans,'  and  who  register  all  his  actions.  These 
angels  are  four  in  number,  two  during  the  day, 
and  two  during  the  night.  Some  writers  admit 
the  existence  of  a  fifth  angel,  who  remains  beside 
men  constantly.  The  two  angels  stand  by  the 
side  of  the  man,  one  at  his  right  hand  and  the 
other  at  his  left,  or  one  in  front  of  him  and  the 
other  behind  ;  by  night  they  take  up  their  position 
one  at  his  head  and  the  other  at  his  feet.  The 
day-guardians  change  places  with  the  night- 
guardians  at  the  rising  and  the  setting  of  the  sun. 
These  hours  are  dangerous  in  themselves,  being 
the  times  when  the  jinn  roam  about,  but  they 
become  much  more  dangerous  to  man  because  it  is 
then  that  the  change  of  the  guard  of  the  hafaza 
takes  place.  If  the  believer  makes  haste  to  begin 
the  morning  prayer  (subh),  and  the  evening  prayer 
(maghrib)  at  the  very  earliest  opportunity,  the 
angels  who  have  to  depart  from  him  leave  him  safe 
from  the  jinn,  against  whom  the  sacred  ceremonies 
protect  him,  and  ascend  to  heaven,  bearing  witness 
to  Allah  of  the  faith  of  his  worshipper.  Before  he 
has  finished  his  prayer,  the  other  two  guardians 
come  and  stand  by  his  sides.  But  it  is  not  only  to 
the  machinations  of  the  jinn  that  man  is  exposed  : 
Tblls  is  on  the  watch  for  him  by  day,  and  his  son 
during  the  night.  This  very  simple  arrangement 
has  also  been  complicated  by  the  traditionalists  of 
later  times.  To  the  four  guardians  already  known 
they  added  six  others  :  one  of  them  holds  the  man 
by  the  tuft  of  hair  which  Muslims  wrear  on  the  top 
of  their  heads,  and  drags  him  one  way  or  the  other 
according  as  the  man  shows  humility  or  pride. 
Another  stays  in  front  of  his  mouth  to  prevent 
the  serpent  from  entering  it.  Two  others  protect 
his  eyes  ;   and   the  last  two,   placed  on  his  lips, 


618 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Muslim) 


listen  only  to  the  words  which  he  pronounces  in 
prayer. 

On  the  hafaza  devolves  the  duty  of  writing  down 
the  actions  of  men  ;  the  one  on  the  right  hand 
keeps  an  account  of  the  good  deeds,  and  the  one 
on  the  left  of  the  bad.  These  registers  will  be  a 
witness  on  ths  judgment  day.  When  the  man 
performs  a  good  deed,  the  angel  on  the  right  hand 
immediately  writes  it  down ;  when  he  commits  a 
sin,  the  same  angel  begs  his  companion  not  to 
write  it  down,  but  to  give  the  sinner  respite — six 
or  seven  hours,  according  to  the  writers — during 
which  he  has  time  to  repent.  Some  commentators 
even  allow  that  a  compensation  may  be  arranged, 
and  that  every  good  action  effaces  a  bad  one.  Un- 
believers also  are  said  to  have  guardians  (Qur'an, 
lxxxvi.  4). 

When  the  hafaza  see  that  the  man  over  whom 
they  had  charge  has  died,  they  do  not  know  what 
to  do,  and  they  pray  to  Allah,  who  tells  them  to 
go  to  the  grave  of  the  deceased  and  repeat  the 
Formulae  of  adoration  (tasblh,  takbir,  taqdls), 
which,  on  the  judgment  day,  will  be  counted 
among  the  merits  of  the  deceased. 

These  angels  are  mentioned  several  times  in  the  Qur'an, 
into  which  they  have  been  introduced  by  Christian  tradition. 
Id  Ixxxii.  11,  they  are  called  kiram  fealibin,  'noble  writers,' 
indicating  their  role  as  overseers  of  human  actions ;  in  vi.  61 
they  are  called  liafaza ;  but  in  xiii.  12  they  are  at  the  same 
time  called  mu'aqqibdt,  '  those  who  relieve  each  other.'  This 
last  expression  is  puzzling  in  its  form,  and  the  commen- 
tators, trying  to  explain  it,  say  that  it  is  a  perfectly  logical 
double  plural,  and  that  the  second  verbal  form  'aqqaba  here 
stands  for  the  third  form  'dqaba.  The  Qur'an  (1.  17)  uses 
the  word  raqib  to  denote  the  guardian  angel  of  men,  and 
Tabari  (Tafsir,  xiii.  68,  line  16)  shows  that  Qur'an  xiii.  12  was 
read  by 'All  ben-Ka'b  with  the  following  variants :  'he  has  in 
front  of  him  mu'aqqibdt,  and  behind  him  a  raqib.'  There  may 
be  some  connexion  between  these  terms  and  those  referring 
to  the  two  stars  which,  during  the  course  of  the  year,  appear, 
one  in  the  East  and  one  in  the  West,  at  twilight  and  at  dawn, 
and  the  observation  of  which  serves  as  a  foundation  for  a 
division  of  the  year  into  twenty-eight  mandzil  or  'anwd — a 
division  which  is  very  fruitful  in  popular  practices.  The  belief 
in  guardian  angels,  then,  over  and  above  Christian  traditions, 
might  become  connected  with  an  astral  cult. 

In  the  crowd  of  angels  who  have  no  special 
character,  certain  authors  distinguish  the  '  pious 
travellers'  {as-sayyahun)  who  scour  the  country 
with  the  intention  of  frequenting  only  the  gather- 
ings where  the  name  of  Allah  is  being  repeated. 
They  then  ascend  to  Allah,  who  questions  them, 
and,  on  their  evidence,  pardons  his  fervent  wor- 
shippers the  faults  they  may  have  committed. 
According  to  a  passage  in  Ibn  al-Athir  (Lisan  al- 
'Arab,  aril.  386),  none  of  these  angels  could  enter 
any  place  in  which  there  was  an  image  or  a  dog. 

We  cannot  explain  the  circumstance  that  has 
drawn  the  names  of  Harut  and  Marut  from  the 
anonymous  crowd  of  spirits  into  the  broad  day- 
light of  the  Holy  Book  (Qur'an,  ii.  97).  Traditions 
have  developed  rapidly  to  explain  their  history, 
and  since  the  9th  cent,  they  have  been  copiously  ex- 
plained by  commentators  (Tabari,  Tafslr,  i.  3402). 
Two  angels  having  incurred  the  wrath  of  Allah  have  been 
thrown  into  a  well  in  the  town  of  Babylon,  where,  loaded  with 
chains,  they  will  teach  mortals  the  art  of  magic  until  the  end 
of  the  world.  In  order  to  punish  them,  Allah  has  commanded 
them  to  teach  this  accursed  science ;  but  they  have  to  warn 
those  who  consult  them  that  they  are  rebels,  and  to  advise 
them  not  to  imitate  them.  According  to  a  lia^ith  of  'A'isha,  a 
woman  came  to  her  when  the  prophet  was  away,  and  told  her 
that,  being  uneasy  about  the  absence  of  her  husband,  she  had 
consulted  a  sorceress  ;  carried  away  at  a  gallop  by  two  black 
dogs  (one  of  the  ordinary  disguises  of  'Ib-lis),  the  two  women 
had  arrived  at  the  edge  of  the  Babylonian  well,  where  the  two 
fallen  angels  bad  put  the  inquirer  in  possession  of  magical 
powers,  from  which  she  was  coming  to  ask  the  prophet  to 
deliver  her. 

Who  are  these  two  angels,  and  what  was  their 
crime  ?  This  is  not  the  place  to  study  in  detail 
the  different  versions  which  are  prevalent  in  Arabic 
literature,  or  to  show  how,  among  the  late  writers, 
Kazwlni,  for  example,  the  legend  has,  under  Mu'ta- 
zilite  influence,  been  contracted  into  an  account  of 
a  more  serious  kind,  but  deprived  of  characteristic 


details.  We  shall  give  here  the  chief  traits  of  the 
most  fully  developed  legend,  which  seems  to  be 
the  most  ancient. 

The  first  men  in  the  world  soon  gave  themselves  up  to  all 
kinds  of  debauchery  and  crime.  The  angels  who  looked  on  at 
these  horrors  from  the  heights  of  heaven  were  surprised  at  the 
gentleness  of  Allah.  '  Be  more  tolerant,'  he  said  to  them  ;  '  if 
you  were  exposed  to  the  passions  which  agitate  men,  you 
would  soon  commit  all  their  crimes.'  The  angels  protested, 
and  begged  Allah  to  put  them  to  the  test ;  and  he  consented. 
They  chose  two  of  the  most  noble  and  pure  among  them, 
Harut  and  Marut,  who  descended  to  earth.  Allah  allowed 
them  to  live  there  in  their  own  way,  and  prohibited  them  only 
from  polytheism,  theft,  adultery,  wine,  and  murder.  All  went 
well  until  one  day,  when  a  woman  came  before  them  ;  whether 
by  chance  or  chosen  as  judges,  they  had  to  decide  in  a  quarrel 
which  had  arisen  between  her  and  her  husband.  ThiB  woman 
was  beautiful ;  she  excited  the  desire  of  the  two  angels. 
Tradition  gives  us  her  name ;  '  she  was  called  Zahara  in 
Arabic,  Baiduht  in  Aramaic,  and  'Anahid  in  Persian '  [i.e. 
Venus].  She  set  conditions  on  her  favours :  according  to 
some,  she  asked  her  lovers  the  word  which  enabled  them  to 
ascend  to  heaven  every  day,  obtained  it,  made  use  of  it,  and 
remained  attached  to  the  firmament  in  the  form  of  the  planet 
Venus  (Zahara),  while  the  two  angels  remained  prisoners  on 
earth  for  having  misused  the  sacred  word.  According  to 
other  traditions,  she  commanded  them  to  worship  an  idol,  or 
she  made  them  drink  wine,  the  intoxication  of  which  led  them 
to  murder  a  beggar  who  was  passing.  In  any  case,  Allah 
called  or  recalled  Venus  to  the  sky,  and  punished  the  culprits. 
On  the  intercession  of  Solomon,  Idris,  or  some  other  good 
personage,  he  let  them  choose  between  a  terrestrial  punish- 
ment and  an  everlasting  chastisement.  They  chose  the  former, 
and  were  chained  in  the  well  of  Babel,  which,  according  to 
some,  is  Babylon  of  Chaldaea  ;  according  to  others,  a  place  in 
Demavend,  famous  for  its  magical  traditions.  We  may  men- 
tion, as  a  strange  variant  of  this  story,  the  tradition  that  the 
two  angels  who  brought  magic  to  men  were  Mika'il  and  Jabril. 

This  legend  may  have  reached  Muhammad 
through  Rabbinic  traditions,  especially  according 
to  the  version  which  shows  the  woman  tempter 
ascending  to  heaven  with  the  password  of  the  two 
angels,  and  remaining  there  in  the  form  of  the 
planet  Venus.  Geiger  ( Was  hat  Mohammed  a.  d. 
Judenthume  aufgcnommen  ?  *  Leipz.  1902,  p.  107  f.) 
mentions  a  tradition  in  which  the  two  angels  are 
called  Shamhazi  and  Azael  (Schwab,  p.  209) ; 
the  daughter  of  the  earth  who  seduces  them  is 
referred  to  under  the  name  of  Aster  ( = '  star ' ; 
see  Schwab  on  the  word  'Biduk').  But  we  must 
seek  the  origin  elsewhere  ;  it  is  in  connexion  with 
the  cult  of  Mithra  and  Anahita  that  we  again 
come  across  the  names  of  the  two  spirits,  Haur- 
vatat  and  Ameretat — not  to  mention  the  tradition 
on  the  Chaldsean  origin  of  magic  (cf.  vol.  i.  p.  796"). 

Paradise  and  hell  are  peopled  with  spirits  whose 
exact  description  has  not  been  given  by  any  writer. 
At  the  entrance  to  paradise  there  is  sometimes 
placed  an  angel  called  Kidwan,  whose  name  is 
probably  a  rough  interpretation  of  a  passage  in 
the  Qur'an  (iii.  13).  We  do  not  know  in  what 
class  to  place  the  houris  (hilr  al-'ain),  who  are  said 
to  share  with  other  women  the  society  of  the 
blessed,  and  who,  shining  and  pure,  are  exempt 
from  physical  suffering,  like  all  the  inhabitants 
of  paradise  (Qur'an,  xliv.  54,  lii.  20,  lv.  56  f.,  lvi. 
22,  etc.). 

The  teaching  is  much  clearer  in  regard  to  hell. 
It  is  guarded  by  a  terrible  angel  Malik,  assisted 
by  sbires  (zabaniya),  who  in  their  turn  have 
guardians  (hafaza  or  hazanat  jahannam)  at  their 
command.  These  sbires  are  nineteen  in  number, 
i.e.  equal  to  the  number  of  letters  in  bismilldh 
(bismillahi-r-rahmani-r-rahimi  =  ''m  the  name  of 
Allah,  the  Compassionate,  the  Merciful ').  People 
escape  from  them  by  reciting  this  formula.  Malik 
stirs  up  the  fire  which  burns  the  reprobates,  and 
replies  to  their  complaints  with  jokes ;  but  he  is 
milder  in  the  case  of  believers  guilty  of  mortal 
sins,  who,  according  to  the  prevailing  theory,  will 
one  day  get  free  from  hell  by  the  intercession 
of  Muhammad.  He  is  mentioned  in  the  Qur'an 
(xliii.  77). 

We  have  already  seen  that  Tblis  was  the  wicked 
angel,  who,  assisted  by  his  son,  tempts  mortals. 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Persian) 


619 


He  was  cursed  for  refusing  to  prostrate  himself 
before  Adam,  created  from  clay,  when  he  had  been 
created  from  fire  (Qur'an,  xxxviii.  77  f. ).  Allah 
cursed  him,  calling  him  '  stoned '  (rajim).  He  has 
command  of  the  unbelieving  jinn,  who  are  his 
agents  with  men. 

The  orthodox  doctrine,  as  we  have  just  seen,  is 
very  chary  of  hints  as  to  the  names  of  the  spirits. 
But,  in  imitation  of  the  Jewish  Qabbala  and 
under  the  influence  of  conjuration  formula?,  the 
Muslim  practice  has  developed  this  nomenclature 
in  a  peculiar  way,  as  it  had  commented  on  the 
supreme  name  of  Allah  in  his  ninety-nine  second- 
ary names.  Thus  there  is  formed  an  intermin- 
able list  of  names  of  angels  in  -il,  and  of  names  of 
jinn  in  -us,  which  fill  all  the  works  on  magic. 
Without  entering  into  details,  it  may  be  useful 
to  recount  here  a  hadith  which  Kazwini  mentions 
(i.  59),  following  Tbn 'Abbas: 

Each  of  the  seven  heavens  is  inhabited  by  a  group  of  angels, 
who  are  engaged  in  praising  and  worshipping  Allah.  '  Those 
who  inhabit  the  lower  heaven  which  encircles  the  earth  have 
the  form  of  cows,  and  are  under  the  command  of  an  angel 
called  'Ismail ;  in  the  second  heaven  dwell  eagles  under  the 
angel  Miha'D  ;  in  the  third,  vultures  under  Sa'adiya'il ;  in  the 
fourth,  horses  under  Salsa'il ;  in  the  fifth,  houris  under  Kalka'il ; 
in  the  sixth,  young  boys  under  Samaha'il ;  in  the  seventh,  men 
under  Ruba'il.'  Lastly,  beyond  the  veil  which  closes  the  heaven, 
angels,  so  numerous  that  they  do  not  know  each  other,  praise 
Allah  in  different  languages  which  resound  like  crashing  thunder. 

In  a  word,  the  ancient  beliefs  of  the  pagan 
Arabs  have  been  preserved  by  peopling  the  Muslim 
world  with  jinn,  who,  for  the  most  part,  are  the 
servants  of  Tblis.  See  more  fully  under  art. 
Arabs  (Ancient),  vol.  i.  p.  669  f.  But,  under  the 
influence  of  Judaism  and  Christianity,  the  new 
religion  has  also  acquired  an  army  of  angels 
and  demons,  whose  history  cannot  be  clearly 
given  without  touching  on  the  critical  study  of 
the  hadiths. 

Literature. — F.  A.  Klein,  The  Religion  of  Islam,  London, 
1906,  pp.  64-67, 87  ;  T.  P.  Hughes,  Dictionary  of  Islam,  London, 
1895,  passim;  M.  Wolff,  Muhammedanische  Eschatologie, 
Leipzig,  1872:  Kazwini,  Kosmographie,  ed.  Wiistenfeldt,  1849, 
i.  66-63.  GAUDEFROY-DEMOMBYNES. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Persian).— Demon- 
ology  plays  a  prominent  part  in  the  religion  of 
Persia  because  of  the  pronounced  dualistic  tenets 
of  Zoroastrianism.  The  opposing  forces  of  evil 
and  good  are  believed  to  be  in  constant  warfare 
until  the  last  millennial  cycles  of  the  world  pre- 
ceding the  day  of  judgment,  when  perfected  man 
shall,  by  the  aid  of  the  heavenly  hosts,  overcome 
the  power  of  evil  (druj)  for  ever,  and  righteousness 
(Av.  aSa)  shall  reign  supreme. 

The  general  designation  for  '  demon '  in  the 
Avesta  is  daeva,  the  same  word  as  the  later  Per- 
sian div,  '  devil,'  and  it  is  etymologically  identical 
with  Skr.  diva,  '  deity,'  Lat.  divus,  '  divine,' 
although  diametrically  opposed  in  meaning.  This 
direct  opposition  between  the  Indian  and  the  Per- 
sian terms  is  generally  ascribed  to  a  presumed 
religious  schism  in  pre-historic  times  between  the 
two  branches  of  the  Indo-Iranian  community  ; 
but  there  is  considerable  uncertainty  about  the 
interpretation,  and  the  solution  of  the  problem 
has  not  been  rendered  easier  by  the  fact  men- 
tioned below— that  the  names  of  two  Hindu 
deities  who  appear  as  demons  in  the  Zoroastrian 
system  have  recently  been  found  in  ancient  in- 
scriptions discovered  in  Asia  Minor. 

As  the  Avestan  word  daeva  is  masculine  in 
gender,  the  demons  in  Zoroastrianism  are  com- 
monly conceived  to  be  of  the  male  sex  ;  but  there 
is  a  large  class  of  she-devils  or  female  fiends, 
drujes,  derived  in  name  from  the  feminine  abstract 
druj,  lit.  '  deceit,'  the  essence  of  evil  in  the  Avesta, 
a  word  comparable  with  the  neuter  drauga,  '  false- 
hood,' '  lie,'  in  the  Old  Persian  inscriptions.  Be- 
sides these  she-demons  there  are  numerous  other 


feminine  personifications  that  embody  the  ele- 
ments of  sin  as  much  as  do  their  masculine 
counterparts. 

In  numbers,  according  to  the  Avesta,  the  hosts 
of  evil  are  legion  ( Yt.  iv.  2).  The  Gathas  speak  of 
the  demons  as  '  the  seed  sprung  from  evil  thought, 
deceit,  and  presumption '  ( Ks.  xxxii.  3),  and  for 
that  reason  they  are  elsewhere  described  as  being 
'  the  seed  of  darkness '  ( Vend.  viii.  80).  Their 
creator  was  Ahriman,  who  brought  them  forth  to 
wage  war  against  heaven  and  earth,  as  is  told  in 
the  Pahlavi  BundahiSn  (i.  10,  xxviii.  1-46) ;  and 
Plutarch  (de  Is.  et  Osir.  xlvii.)  rightly  interpreted 
the  spirit  of  Zoroastrian  demonology  when  he 
described  Ahriman  as  having  caused  a  number 
of  demons  equal  in  activity  to  the  Divine  forces 
created  by  Ormazd  to  bore  through  (Siarprjo-avTes) 
the  world-egg  in  which  Ormazd  had  placed  his 
four-and-twenty  '  gods '  {0eo6s).  Zoroaster's  mis- 
sion was  to  banish  these  diabolical  creatures  from 
the  world,  and  it  is  easy  to  understand  why  the 
Avesta  should  picture  the  entire  body  of  fiends  as 
taking  flight  in  dismay  before  him  (Ys.  ix.  15). 

The  demons  are  naturally  thought  of  as  spirits 
or  bodiless  agents  ( Av.  mainyava  daeva,  '  spiritual 
demons'  [Yt.  x.  69,  97  ;  Vend.  viii.  31,  80]),  though 
sometimes  they  are  conceived  of  as  having  human 
shape  (Ys.  ix.  15)  in  order  to  accomplish  better 
their  fiendish  ends.  Their  purposes  are  best 
achieved  under  the  cover  of  darkness,  but  their 
heinous  deeds  are  checked  by  the  rising  of  the  sun 
{Yt.  vi.  3f.).  Their  favourite  haunt  is  in  prox- 
imity to  whatever  is  vile  or  foul,  and  they  lurk, 
especially  as  spooks  or  goblins,  in  the  vicinity  of 
dakhmas,  or  towers  of  silence.  In  certain  regions 
they  were  believed  to  be  more  numerous  than  in 
others,  the  whole  province  of  Mazandaran,  south 
of  the  Caspian  Sea,  being  supposed  to  be  especially 
infected  by  their  presence.  This  legendary  as- 
sociation with  that  territory  is  as  old  as  the 
Avesta,  and  it  appears  throughout  the  Pahlavi 
writings,  as  well  as  in  the  Shah  Namah  of  Fir- 
dausi  (Av.  daeva  Mdzainya,  Pahl.  Mdzanikdn 
devan,  Pers.  divan-i  Mazandaran).  The  same 
tradition  was  perpetuated  in  Manichseism,  as  is 
proved  by  allusions  to  Mazanian  demons  in  the 
Manichsean  texts  lately  discovered  in  Eastern 
Turkestan  (see  F.  W.  K.  Miiller,  '  Handschriften- 
reste  aus  Turfan,'  ii.  18,  19,  ABAW,  Anhang, 
1904).  The  baneful  influence  of  all  these  ministers 
of  evil  could  be  averted  in  various  ways,  and  one 
of  the  books  of  the  Avesta,  the  Vendidad  ( Vidae- 
vaddta,  '  Law  against  Demons '),  is  devoted  almost 
entirely  to  providing  man  with  the  means  of  ridding 
himself  of  their  power. 

As  might  be  imagined,  the  multitudinous  host 
of  evil  spirits  lacks  order  and  organization.  It  is, 
therefore,  somewhat  difficult  to  divide  them  into 
sharply  defined  bands,  but  a  rough  distinction 
between  the  masses  may  be  recognized.  At  the 
head  of  the  host  stands  Anra  Mainyu,  or  Ahriman, 
'  the  Enemy  Spirit,'  the  prince  of  darkness  per- 
sonified. The  chief  characteristics  of  Anra  Mainyu, 
or  Angra  Mainyu,  as  he  is  termed  in  the  Gathas, 
have  been  discussed  in  a  separate  article  (see 
AHRIMAN),  and  need  only  to  be  designated  here 
as  maleficent  in  the  extreme.  Next  in  power  to 
Ahriman  stand  six  arch-fiends  as  eminent  com- 
manders of  the  legions  of  sin.  Then  follows  a  con- 
fused horde  of  wicked  spirits  framed  to  bring 
misery  and  distress  into  the  world.  These  two 
bands  in  their  broad  grouping  will  be  considered 
in  turn. 

The  sixfold  group  of  arch-fiends  that  are  gathered 
as  aides  about  the  standard  of  Ahriman  and  form 
the  council  of  hell  (cf.  Yt.  xix.  96  ;  Dink.  ix.  21.  4  ; 
Bd.  xxviii.  7  ff.  and  xxx.  29)  are  portrayed  in 
Zoroastrian  literature  as  endowed  with  various  evil 


620 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Roman) 


qualities  and  as  discharging  multifarious  diabolical 
functions.  Their  names  are  Aka  Manah  (Evil 
Thought),  Indra,  Sauru,  Naohhaithya  (parallel 
with  three  Indian  deities),  Taurvi  and  Zairicha 
(personifications  respectively  of  overpowering 
hunger  and  deadly  thirst),  and,  lastly,  Aesma, 
the  demon  of  fury,  rapine,  lust,  and  outrage.  The 
fact  that  three  of  these  demoniacal  names  are 
identical  with  gods  in  the  Indian  pantheon  has  been 
alluded  to  above,  but  their  figures  on  the  whole 
are  not  really  sharply  defined,  though  their  malign 
characters  are  several  times  alluded  to  in  the 
passages  which  enumerate  them  {Vend.  x.  9f., 
xix.  43  ;  Bund.  i.  27,  xxviii.  7-12,  xxx.  29 ;  Ep. 
Man.  I.  x.  9 ;  cf.  also  Ddt.  xciv.  2 ;  Dink.  ix.  34). 
Reference  has  likewise  been  made  to  the  fact  that 
in  the  inscriptions  of  the  Hittite  kings  of  the  14th 
cent.  B.C.,  recently  discovered  by  Winckler  at 
Boghaz-keui  in  Asia  Minor,  the  names  Indra  and 
Nasatya — the  latter  noteworthy  by  its  Indian  form 
(with  s)  in  contrast  to  the  Iranian  form  Naoh- 
haithya (with  h) — appear  as  divinities  and  not  as 
demons.  Until  the  full  connexion  of  the  passages 
in  these  inscriptions  is  made  known  by  the  dis- 
coverer, it  appears  premature  to  theorize  in  regard 
to  the  possible  bearing  of  the  allusions  upon  the 
mooted  question  of  the  presumed  Indo-Iranian 
religious  schism.  The  mention  may  be  merely  a 
direct  reference  to  Indian  deities  without  having 
any  immediate  connexion  with  Iran. 

Of  all  the  sixfold  group  of  arch-fiends,  the  most 
clearly  defined  is  the  assaulting  and  outrageous 
demon  AeSma,  whose  name  has  been  thought  to 
be  reflected  as  Asmodceus  in  the  Book  of  Tobit 
(see  F.  Windischmann,  Zoroastr.  Studien,  Berlin, 
1863,  p.  138 ;  A.  Kohut,  Jud.  Angelologie  mid 
Ddmonologie,  Leipzig,  1866,  p.  75 ;  F.  Spiegel, 
Erdn.  Alterthumskundc,  Leipzig,  1877,  ii.  132 ; 
E.  Stave,  Einfluss  des  Parsismus  auf  das  Juden- 
tum,  Haarlem,  1898,  p.  263  ;  J.  H.  Moulton,  '  The 
Iranian  Background  of  Tobit,'  in  ExpT  xi.  [1900] 
25S  ;  for  the  opposing  view,  see  Ginzberg,  in  JE  ii. 
217-220). 

By  the  side  of  these  six  arch-demons  there  are 
named  in  the  Avesta  and  supplementary  Zoro- 
astrian  texts  more  than  fifty  other  demons,  per- 
sonifications of  evil  forces  in  the  world  (for  the 
complete  list,  see  Jackson,  op.  cit.  infra,  pp.  659- 
662).  It  will  suffice  to  mention  a  few  of  these, 
such  as  Taromaiti,  '  Arrogance '  ;  Mithaoxta, 
'  False  Speech  '  ;  Azi,  '  Greed  '  (a  demon  that  is 
preserved  likewise  in  Manichseism  [cf.  Muller,  op. 
cit.  pp.  13,  14,  15,  18,  20,  22,  23,  53]) ;  VizareSa, 
or  the  fiend  that  drags  the  souls  of  the  wicked  to 
hell ;  Buly&std,  a  typification  of  inordinate  sleep 
and  sloth ;  Asto-viddtu,  who  divides  the  bones  at 
death;  ApaoSa,  'drought';  Zemaka,  'winter'; 
itnd  a  score  or  more  of  personified  malignant 
forces. 

The  special  cohort  of  fiends  (drujes),  as  already 
noted,  is  headed  by  the  Druj  paramount,  or  the 
feminine  embodiment  of  deceit  and  falsehood,  who 
draws  in  her  train  a  ribald  crew  of  followers, 
corporeal  and  incorporeal,  entitled  in  the  Avesta 
dregvants,  or  drvants,  'the  wicked.'  Foremost 
among  these  agents  in  exercising  pernicious  ac- 
tivity is  the  Druj  Nasu  (cf.  Gr.  v4kvs),  '  corpse- 
fiend,'  the  veritable  incarnation  of  pollution  and 
contagion  arising  from  the  decomposition  of  a 
dead  body.  Of  a  similar  character  in  the  Avesta 
is  Ithyeja MarSaona  (Vend.  xix.  1,  43,  xviii.  8  ;  Yt. 
vi.  4,  xiii.  130),  the  same  as  Sej  in  the  Pahlavi  texts 
(Bund,  xxviii.  26  ;  Dink.  ix.  21.  4,  vii.  4.  37),  a 
form  of  wasting  decay  and  decrepitude  that  creeps 
on  unseen.  Peculiarly  malign  in  her  influence  is 
another  fiend,  Jahi,  'harlot'  (cf.  Yt.  iii.  9,  12,  16), 
who  embodies  the  spirit  of  whoredom  destructive 
to  mankind  ;  while  little  better  are  the  seductive 


Pairikas,  '  enchantresses  '  (the  late  Persian  Peris) 
and  their  male  partners,  Yatus,  'sorcerers.' 

Among  demoniacal  monsters  is  Azhi  Dahaka, 
'  the  Serpent  Dahaka,'  a  tyrant  out  of  whose 
shoulders  grew  two  snakes  from  a  kiss  imprinted 
between  them  by  Ahriman.  Throughout  Zoro- 
astrianism  this  hideous  being  is  represented  as  the 
personification  of  the  thousand  years  of  oppressive 
rule  over  Iran  by  the  Babylonian  Empire  in  early 
days ;  and  he  appears  equally  in  the  derived 
demonology  of  Maniehseism  (cf.  Muller,  op.  cit. 
pp.  19,  37),  as  well  as  in  Armenia  (above,  vol.  i. 
p.  800),  while  his  name,  with  the  signification  of 
'  dragon,'  is  even  found  in  Slavic  (Berneker,  Slav, 
etymolog.  Wbrterb.,  Heidelberg,  1908  ff.,  p.  36).  A 
dozen  other  execrable  creatures  in  the  diabolical 
list  might  be  mentioned  as  agents  of  Ahriman  in 
his  warfare  against  the  kingdom  of  Ormazd,  but 
the  list  is  already  long  enough  to  prove  the 
important  part  which  demonology  played  in 
Zoroastrianism. 

It  should,  however,  be  noted  that  there  were 
yet  other  demons  in  Zoroastrianism  whose  names 
are  not  found  in  the  extant  Iranian  literature. 
Here  belong  Khrura,  the  son  of  Ahriman  (al- 
Birunl,  Chron.  of  Ancient  Nations,  tr.  Sachau, 
London,  1879,  pp.  108,  398),  and  Mahmi,  whom 
Eznik  (Against  the  Sects,  tr.  J.  M.  Schmid, 
Vienna,  1900,  p.  109)  describes  as  revealing  to 
Ormazd  the  secret  plans  of  Ahriman  (for  the 
place  occupied  by  Iranian  demons  in  pre-Christian 
Armenia  see  above,  vol.  i.  p.  779  f.). 

Literature. — For  fuller  details  and  more  extensive  biblio- 
graphical material,  see  A.  V.  Williams  Jackson,  '  Die  iran. 
Religion,'  in  Geiger-Kuhn's  GIrP  ii.  [Strassburg,  1901]  64Q-6SS. 
For  material  relating  to  the  discovery  in  Asia  Minor  of  inscrip- 
tions with  the  names  of  the  Indian  deities  Indra  and  Nasatya, 
who  appear  as  demons  in  Zoroastrianism,  see  H.  Winckler,  in 
Mitteuungen  der  dent.  Orientgesellschaft,  1907,  no.  35 ;  and  cf. 
the  discussions  by  Ed.  Meyer,  in  Bezzenberger-Kuhn's  Zeitschr. 
f.  vergleich.  Sprachwissenschaft,  xlii.  [1908]  1-27;  Jacoby,  in 
JRA&,  1909,  pp.  721-726,  1910,  pp.  456-464;  and  Oldenberg, 
ib.  1910,  pp.  846-854.  The  most  recent  material  in  regard  to  the 
occurrence  of  Zoroastrian  demons  in  Manichaean  writings  will 
be  found  in  the  discoveries  made  by  the  German  Imperial 
Expedition  at  Turfan  in  Eastern  Turkestan  (see  F.  W.  K. 
Muller,  '  Handschriftenreste  in  Estrangelo-Schrift  aus  Turfan,' 
in  AEAW,  Anhang,  1904,  and  other  later  publications  now 
being  issued  in  the  same  series). 

A.  V.  Williams  Jackson. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Roman).— The 
Romans  and  Latins,  and  the  races  of  Italy  who 
were  nearest  of  kin  to  them,  appear  to  have  pos- 
sessed but  little  in  the  nature  of  mythology  or 
folklore  before  they  passed  under  the  spell  of  the 
Hellenic  culture.  The  early  Italic  conception  of 
the  supernatural  power  had  not  much  about  it 
that  was  definite  or  personal.  There  was  a  vague 
consciousness  of  a  Divine  influence  (nunien)  which 
worked  in  different  spheres  and  with  different 
manifestations ;  but  the  allotment  of  distinct  de- 
partments to  clearly  conceived  personages,  more 
or  less  superhuman,  and  the  gradation  of  these 
personages  to  form  a  hierarchy,  were  alien  to 
primitive  Italic  thought  and  feeling.  In  the  earliest 
form  of  belief,  only  two  classes  of  beings  were 
intermediate  between  the  human  and  the  Divine. 
These  were  the  souls  of  the  dead,  and  certain 
spirits  who  attended  oh  the  lives  of  individual 
human  beings. 

We  shall  first  deal  with  these  attendant  spirits, 
who,  when  attached  to  men,  bore  the  name  genius, 
and,  when  they  guarded  women,  had  the  title  of 
juno.  These  creations  are  racy  of  the  soil  of 
Italy,  and  the  faith  in  them  was  less  affected  by 
contact  with  the  Greeks  than  any  other  article  of 
indigenous  Italic  religion.  It  hardly  needs  to  be 
said  that  the  history  of  culture  affords  innumerable 
parallels  to  this  notion  of  an  invisible  personality, 
separable  from,  yet  closely  attached  to,  the  life  of 
the  visible  man.    The  fravashi  of  the  Persians  and 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Roman) 


621 


the  ha  of  the  Egyptians  were  not  unlike,  and  the 
Greeks  viewed  the  psyche  in  a  somewhat  similar 
fashion.  Even  barbarous  peoples  often  abstract 
from  the  individual  some  striking  characteristic  or 
characteristics  which  they  contemplate  as  belong- 
ing to  a  more  or  less  spiritual  person  distinct  from 
the  man  himself.  Such  a  concept  is  the  genius, 
and  the  power  which  was  at  first  isolated  from  the 
man  himself  by  the  Italic  tribes,  and  treated  by 
them  as  mysterious  and  in  some  sense  supernatural, 
was  the  power  of  propagating  the  race.  This 
appears  clearly  in  the  expression  lectus  genialis, 
applied  to  the  marriage  bed,  which  was  originally 
always  placed  in  the  atrium  of  the  old  Roman 
house.  The  corresponding  power  in  the  case  of 
the  matron  is  her  juno,  and  the  later  goddess  Juno 
is  merely  a  generalization  and  a  glorification  of 
the  separate  junones.  That  no  parallel  god 
emerged  on  the  male  side  is  an  anomaly  of  a 
common  kind.  In  the  genius  were  also  embodied 
all  faculties  of  delight,  so  that  phrases  s'leh  as 
indulgere  genio,  '  to  do  one's  genius  a  pleasure,' 
and  defraudare  genium,  '  to  cheat  the  genius  of  an 
enjoyment,'  were  common.  But  the  intellectual 
qualities  which  we  denote  by  the  borrowed  word 
'  genius '  never  specially  pertained  to  this  ancient 
spirit,  though  ingenium  lies  very  close  to  genius 
by  its  structure.  The  genius  and  the  juno  were 
at  first  imagined  not  only  to  come  into  existence 
along  with  the  human  beings  to  whom  they  were 
linked,  but  also  to  go  out  of  existence  with  them. 
Yet  they  could  exercise  strong  control  not  only 
over  the  fortunes,  but  over  the  temperaments  of 
their  companions.  There  was  undoubtedly  a  sort 
of  fatalism  connected  with  the  belief  in  spirits.  The 
Greeks  often  conceived  that  a  particular  tyche,  or 
'  fortune,'  accompanied  the  lives  of  men  in  a  similar 
manner,  and  therefore  they  usually  represented 
genius  by  t&x_ti.  But  occasionally  Salfiwv  is  viewed 
exactly  in  the  light  of  the  Roman  genius.  In  a 
well-known  passage  (Ep.  II.  ii.  188),  Horace  does 
not  hesitate  to  call  the  genius  a  god,  though  he  at 
the  same  time  declares  him  to  be  subject  to  death. 
The  snake  was  the  common  symbol  of  the  genius 
and  the  juno ;  hence  the  pairs  of  snakes  which 
are  painted  on  the  walls  of  many  houses  at  Pompeii. 
It  was  not  uncommon  to  keep  a  tame  snake  in  the 
dwelling,  and  the  superstitious  believed  that  the 
genius  was  incorporated  in  it.  Simple  altars  were 
erected  to  the  spirit,  and  offerings  were  made  to 
him. 

In  course  of  time  the  ideas  attached  to  the  genius 
were  in  many  respects  changed  and  expanded. 
By  a  sort  of  logical  absurdity,  genii  of  the  great 
gods  were  invented,  and  shrines  were  erected  to 
the  genius  of  Juppiter  and  others,  while  any 
collection  of  human  beings  gathered  together,  in 
a  city,  for  instance,  or  a  gild  {collegium),  or  a  camp, 
might  have  its  attendant  spirit.  Thus  a  genius 
publicus  was  worshipped  at  Rome.  But  the  im- 
agination that  things  or  places  not  connected  with 
men  were  thus  companioned — an  imagination  in- 
volved in  such  phrases  as  genius  sacra;  annonm 
or  genius  loci — sprang  up  only  in  a  late  age.  In 
the  Imperial  time,  the  severance  between  the  Em- 
peror's genius  and  his  tangible  personality  had 
many  notable  consequences,  and  subserved  some 
political  purposes.  Augustus  was  able  to  allow 
the  veneration  of  his  genius  to  become  part  of  the 
public  worship  of  Rome  without  flouting  Roman 
prejudice,  though  he  was  compelled  (officially)  to 
confine  the  deification  of  his  person  to  the  pro- 
vinces. When  it  became  customary  for  oaths  to  be 
taken  by  the  Emperor's  genius,  it  was  possible  to 
introduce  a  secular  punishment  for  perjury,  which 
had  previously  been  left  to  the  Divine  vengeance. 

When  Eastern  religious  influences  spread  over 
the  Western  part  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  new 


developments  in  philosophy  aided  these  influences 
in  transforming  culture,  old  ideas  concerning  the 
genius  underwent  contamination.  The  genius, 
which  had  been  supposed  to  die  with  the  man,  was 
now  held  to  be  identical  with  the  soul  which  sur- 
vived the  body.  Hence  on  the  later  tombstones 
this  name  sometimes  describes  the  spirit  of  the 
deceased.  Servius,  the  commentator  on  Virgil, 
tells  us  that  the  vulgar  did  not  clearly  distinguish 
between  genii,  lares,  and  manes.  This  confusion 
had  been  helped  by  learned  speculation  from  the 
time  of  Varro  onwards.  We  must,  therefore,  now 
consider  Roman  and  Italic  beliefs  concerning  the 
state  of  the  dead. 

That  a  cult  of  the  departed  existed  from  primitive 
times  is  clear  from  many  indications.  The  earliest 
form  of  the  Roman  calendar  notes  several  puri- 
ficatory ceremonies  for  the  appeasement  of  the 
ghostly  world.  The  vanished  spirits  were  not 
without  an  influence  over  the  living  which  was 
to  be  dreaded.  The  month  of  February  took  its 
name  from  one  of  the  deprecatory  observances 
(Februa).  Each  family  in  the  community  had  its 
special  concern  with  the  ritual.  The  ghosts  were 
supposed  to  approach  some  openings  in  the  earth, 
to  which  the  name  mundus  was  given.  Such  was 
the  spot  called  Terentum  or  Tarentum  in  the 
Campus  Martius,  and  another  place  in  front  of  the 
temple  of  Apollo  on  the  Palatine.  The  ceremony 
called  lustratio  ('purification'),  which  was  per- 
formed for  the  newly-born  child,  for  the  army  in 
the  field  in  times  of  superstition  and  panic,  and  for 
the  whole  assemblage  of  past  and  present  warriors 
every  five  years  (when  the  censors  were  said 
condere  lustrum),  seems  to  have  had  its  origin 
more  in  fear  of  the  unregarded  dead  than  in  any 
sense  of  sin  in  face  of  the  offended  gods ;  and  the 
ornament  called  bulla  worn  by  the  Roman  child 
appears  to  have  contained  charms  originally  in- 
tended to  ward  off  ghostly  anger,  to  which  the 
young  were  specially  exposed.  Ancient  scholars 
believed  that  the  worship  of  the  lares,  or  household 
spirits,  was  one  form  of  the  cult  of  the  dead,  and, 
till  recently,  they  were  followed  by  the  moderns. 
There  is,  however,  much  evidence  to  show  that 
the  veneration  of  the  lares  began  outside  the  house. 
The  earliest  mention  of  them  is  in  the  ancient 
hymn  of  the  Arval  Brothers,  where  they  appear 
amongst  the  protecting  divinities  of  the  fields. 
Originally  each  house  possessed  only  one  lar 
familiaris,  and  the  use  of  lares  to  mean  '  a  house- 
hold '  is  not  earlier  than  the  late  Republic.  It  is 
possible  that  the  lar  familiaris  was  at  first  the 
mythical  founder  of  the  separate  family,  just  as 
each  gens  had  its  mythical  ancestor.  But  the  exist- 
ence from  early  times  of  lares  in  every  compitum, 
or  quarter  of  the  city,  and  of  lares  permarini  and 
other  lares  connected  with  localities,  points  the 
other  way.  And  the  'worship  connected  with 
them  was  joyous  in  character,  not  funereal.  The 
scholars  who  identified  the  lares  with  the  departed 
souls  were  influenced,  perhaps,  by  a  supposed  but 
improbable  connexion  between  lar  and  larva 
(which  is  the  name  for  an  unsatisfied  and,  there- 
fore, dangerous  ghost),  and  by  the  primitive 
custom  of  burying  the  dead  within  the  house  of 
the  living.  The  phrase  di  manes,  which  is  familiar 
to  us  on  Roman  tombstones,  appears  to  have  been 
the  earliest  applied  to  the  general  divinities  who 
ruled  the  world  of  shades.  Their  appearance  in 
Roman  religion  must  have  been  comparatively 
late.  The  term  manes,  properly  '  good '  or  '  kindly,' 
is  euphemistic,  like  the  name  Eumenides,  given  to 
the  Greek  Furies.  The  application  of  manes  to 
disembodied  men  is  secondary,  especially  when 
the  word  indicates  a  single  ghost.  Yet,  from  an 
early  time,  the  ancestors  in  the  other  world  were 
deemed  to  be  in  a  sense  Divine,  and  were  called 


622 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Slavic) 


divi  parentcs.  The  lemures  are  the  same  as  the 
lurvce,  the  spirits  with  whom,  for  whatever  reason, 
the  living  find  it  hard  to  maintain  a  permanent 
peace.  The  name  is  connected  with  Lemuria,  a 
purificatory  ceremony  held  at  Kome  in  the  month 
of  May. 

When  the  West  was  invaded  by  the  religions 
of  the  East,  including  the  Christian,  and  when 
philosophy,  especially  in  the  hands  of  the  Neo- 
Pythagorean  and  Neo- Platonic  schools,  developed 
much  mystical  doctrine  about  things  Divine,  the 
belief  in  beings  who  were  more  than  men  and  less 
than  gods  became  universal.  The  whole  world 
now  abounded  in  demons  of  limited  power  for  good 
or  evil.  The  testimony  to  this  persuasion  is 
scattered  broadcast  over  later  literature,  from 
Apuleius  onwards,  and  over  the  remains  of  Imperial 
art.  The  deified  emperors  were  like  the  Greek 
ijpoies,  and  to  them  the  name  divi,  which  had  in 
earlier  days  not  been  distinguished  from  dei,  was 
appropriated.  Magic  and  astrology  blended  with 
the  faith  in  demons,  which,  when  Christianity  pre- 
vailed, were  regarded  as  wholly  bad,  and  were 
identified  with  heathen  divinities.  The  minds  of 
men  were  laden  with  a  burden  of  which  they  were 
not  relieved  till  rationalism  sprang  out  of  the  .Re- 
formation movement. 

Literature. — Information  on  the  subject  may  be  obtained 
from  the  articles  on  '  Inferni,'  '  Genius,'  '  Lares,'  and  '  Manes,' 
in  Smith's  Diet,  of  Antiquities3,  London,  1890-1 ;  in  the  Diet, 
des  Antiquity  of  Daremberg-Saglio3,  Paris,  188611 ;  and  in 
Roscher  s  Lex.  der  Mythologie,  18S4  ff.  The  work  of  Wissowa 
on  Roman  Religion  in  Iwan  Miiller's  Handbuch  der  klass.  Alter- 
thumswissenschaft,  Munich,  189211,  is  important.  For  the 
cults  of  the  dead,  Warde  Fowler's  Roman  Festivals,  London, 
1899,  and  his  Gifford  Lectures,  entitled  The  Religious  Experi- 
ence of  the  Roman  People,  London,  1911,  may  be  consulted  ;  and 
for  the  later  belief  in  demons,  Dill's  Roman  Society  from  Nero 
to  Marcus  Aurelius,  London,  1904.  Many  illustrations  are  to  be 
found  in  Frazer's  GB\  1900.  J.  g.  REID. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Slavic).— There  is 
abundant  evidence  of  the  persistence  of  the  belief 
in  demons  and  spirits  among  the  Slavic  peoples 
even  to  the  present  day,  especially  in  districts 
where  primitive  ideas  and  customs  have  not  yielded 
to  the  advance  of  civilization.  Popular  imagina- 
tion traces  the  agency  of  supernatural  beings  in 
every  part  of  the  surrounding  world — house  and 
home,  field  and  forest — and  sees  in  every  nook  and 
corner  the  possible  hiding-place  of  an  invisible 
spirit,  which,  however,  may  on  occasion  assume  a 
visible  form.  In  seeking  to  classify  these  beings 
under  leading  categories,  it  is  often  difficult  to  de- 
termine which  of  them  are  to  be  regarded  as  pro- 
ducts of  the  animistic  stage  of  thought,  and  which, 
on  the  other  hand,  should  be  described  rather  as 
demons,  demanding  the  prayers,  offerings,  and  wor- 
ship of  human  beings.  As  to  the  various  classes 
of  demons  themselves,  such  as  dream-spirits  and 
spirits  of  disease,  domestic  spirits  and  Nature- 
spirits,  it  is  likewise  no  easy  task  to  draw  distinct 
lines  of  demarcation  between  them. 

The  origin  of  demonic  beings  is  explained  in  a 
cosmogonic  legend  of  dualistic  character,  which,  it 
is  true,  belongs  to  a  relatively  late  period,  and  is 
derived  from  a  foreign  source. 

According  to  this  story,  which  is  widely  known  among  the 
Slavs,  the  Evil  principle  existed  from  the  first,  and  quite  inde- 
pendently of  the  Good.  As  a  result  of  the  combined  work  of 
both — God  and  Satan — the  world  itself  came  into  being.  Satan, 
in  the  form  of  a  water-fowl,  made  his  way  to  the  bottom  of  the 
primal  ocean,  and  in  his  beak  brought  up  rock  and  sand,  with 
which  materials  God  then  framed  the  world.  Satan,  however, 
secretly  retained  in  his  mouth  a  portion  of  the  sand,  and  made 
therewith  all  the  rugged  and  inaccessible  places — mountains, 
crags,  morasses,  straits,  and  barren  lands.  Satan  then  tried  to 
drown  God,  who,  fatigued  with  the  effort  of  creation,  was  now 
asleep,  and  to  this  end  he  dug  holes  in  the  surface  of  the  earth, 
and  caused  floods  to  gush  forth  therefrom  :  thus  arose  great 
waters  and  abysses,  into  which,  however,  Satan  himself  was  at 
length  thrust  by  the  power  of  God.  Moved  by  envy  of  the 
Deity,  Satan  also  essayed  the  work  of  creation,  and  noxious 
plants  and  animals  are  the  result  of  his  efforts.    Desiring  to 


form  a  retinue  for  his  own  service  such  as  would  correspond 
to  the  angelic  hosts  of  God,  he  was  advised  by  the  latter  to 
wash  his  hands,  and  to  allow  the  water  to  drop  from  his  fingers 
behind  him.  From  these  drops  sprang  an  innumerable  multi- 
tude of  evil  spirits,  who  own  him  as  their  head.  It  is  believed 
in  Russia  that  the  same  thing  takes  place  whenever  a  person 
engaged  in  washing  himself  lets  the  water  drip  around  him. 

According  to  another  form  of  the  legend,  good  angels  and 
demons  were  produced  from  a  stone  upon  which  blows  were 
dealt  by  God  and  Satan  respectively.  Satan's  arrogance  and 
the  growth  of  his  retinue  induced  him  at  last  to  make  an  open 
revolt,  with  the  result,  however,  that  the  archangel  Michael 
hurled  the  wicked  host  from  the  celestial  battlements.  The 
ejected  demons  fell  between  heaven  and  earth ;  one  remained 
in  the  air,  another  in  the  forest,  a  third  in  water,  etc.,  while 
the  rest  sank  down  into  the  under  world.  This  explains  why 
demons  have  their  secret  habitations  in  all  places — in  the  air, 
in  woods,  waters,  and  the  like.  It  is  a  popular  belief  that  the 
conflict  between  the  Good  and  the  Evil  principle  still  endures, 
and  manifests  itself  in  thunder  and  lightning.  The  thunder- 
storm is  brought  about  by  the  thunder-god — Elijah  or  Michael 
— who  pursues  the  evil  host  with  a  bolt  of  fire.  Every  object 
injured,  every  person  or  animal  killed,  by  the  lightning-flash 
affords  unmistakable  evidence  of  the  fact  that  some  evil  demon 
was  fleeing  before  his  heavenly  pursuer,  and  had  sought 
shelter  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  person  or  animal  or  object 
struck,  and  that,  while  the  Divine  missile  destroyed  the  cower- 
ing demon,  it  did  not  spare  the  innocent  object  that  chanced  to 
be  near.  Thus  arose  the  belief  that  a  human  being  killed  in  a 
thunderstorm  wins  salvation,  as  also  the  notion  that  the  wood 
of  a  tree  shattered  by  lightning  contains  a  powerful  counter- 
active to  the  work  of  evil  spirits. 

The  people  of  Little  Russia  explain  the  genesis  of  demons  by 
another  myth,  which,  however,  is  not  nearly  so  widely  known 
as  that  which  we  have  just  sketched.  According  to  them,  evil 
spirits  are  the  children  of  Adam.  Our  first  parents,  it  is  related, 
had  twelve  pairs  of  children,  but  on  one  occasion,  when  God 
came  to  visit  them,  Adam  tried  to  conceal  half  of  his  offspring 
from  the  Divine  eye.  The  children  who  were  thus  hidden  were 
transformed  into  demons. 

Although  many  demons  are  destroyed  in  their 
warfare  against  God  and  good  men,  yet  their 
numbers  are  not  diminished.  On  the  contrary, 
their  ranks  are  always  being  reinforced,  either  by 
marriages  amongst  themselves,  from  which  issue 
new  generations,  or  by  sexual  intercourse  with 
human  beings.  Further,  their  numbers  may  be 
recruited  by  the  human  children  who  become  de- 
mons— a  transformation  which  takes  place  when  a 
child  is  cursed  by  its  parents,  or  dies  unbaptized, 
or  when  it  is  taken  away  by  the  demons  and  a 
changeling  (q.  v. )  left  in  its  place.  The  powers  of  evil 
also  gain  possession  of  all  who  die  a  violent  death, 
such  as  suicides  and  children  overlain  in  sleep  ; 
hence  the  idea  that  it  is  dangerous  to  try  to  save  a 
person  in  the  act  of  committing  suicide,  or  one 
who  is  drowning,  etc.,  as  the  devil  will  feel  him- 
self wronged  in  being  balked  of  his  expected 
victim,  and  may  take  vengeance  upon  the  rescuer. 

The  demons  are  believed  to  come  into  touch 
with  human  life  in  various  ways.  They  injure 
man  by  causing  accident  and  disease,  or  they  give 
him  help  and  protection.  A  common  idea  is  that 
a  demon  sits  upon  the  left  shoulder  of  every  human 
being,  ready  to  take  possession  of  him  at  any 
moment  of  weakness,  and  it  is  therefore  advisable 
that  when  a  person  yawns  he  should  guard  his 
mouth   by  malting  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  so 

Erevent  the  fiend  from  gaining  an  entrance  into 
is  body.  But,  if  an  individual  makes  a  compact 
with  the  devil,  signing  over  his  soul  in  a  document 
subscribed  in  his  own  blood,  the  devil  undertakes 
on  his  part  to  serve  the  man  in  every  possible  way, 
and  especially  to  make  him  rich.  In  the  course  of 
ages  Satan  has  taught  mankind  many  crafts.  It 
was  from  him  that  people  learned  the  arts  of  iron- 
working,  brewing,  and  distilling,  as  also  the  use  of 
tobacco.  He  was  the  discoverer  of  fire ;  he  built 
the  first  mill  and  the  first  waggon.  The  arts  of 
reading  and  writing  were  acquired  from  him. 
Moreover,  when  Satan  is  in  a  good  humour,  he  finds 
amusement  in  plaguing  human  beings ;  he  likes  to 
beguile  the  belated  traveller  from  the  right  way, 
to  worry  the  driver  by  causing  a  breakdown  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  or  to  play  tricks  upon  a  drunk 
man.      He  may  appear  under  the  disguise  of  a 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Slavic) 


623 


friend  or  a  lover,  and  it  is  even  believed  that  he 
can  serve  his  minions  by  taking  their  place  in  the 
ranks  of  the  army.  It  is  also  said  that,  when  he 
wishes  to  gratify  his  lust,  he  visits  witches  in  the 
form  of  a  flying  fiery  serpent ;  such,  for  example, 
are  the  Letavitsa  of  the  Huzules  and  the  Polish 
Latawiec,  which  sometimes  assume  the  form  of  a 
man,  sometimes  that  of  a  fascinating  maiden. 

It  is  with  witches  that  the  evil  spirits  and  demons 
have  their  most  active  intercourse.  At  certain 
seasons,  and  especially  on  the  principal  feast  days 
of  the  Church,  the  witches  fly  away  to  the  meet- 
ing-places of  the  demons,  where  they  drink,  dance, 
and  wallow  in  debauchery.  The  demons  on  their 
part  are  ready  to  abet  the  witches  in  carrying  out 
those  magical  operations  which,  according  to  popu- 
lar notions,  require  the  support  of  supernatural 
agency.  Such,  for  instance,  are  the  machinations 
by  which  the  sorcerer  causes  untimely  births, 
incites  love,  sows  dissension  among  friends — any- 
thing, in  a  word,  which  does  mischief  to  mankind. 
The  transactions  are  performed  in  the  name  of  the 
evil  spirit,  and,  when  they  are  followed  by  an 
adjuration,  this  usually  takes  the  form  of  an  ap- 
peal '  to  the  host  of  unclean  spirits  conjointly  with 
Satan,'  praying  that  they  will  work  harm  to  the 
person  the  sorcerer  has  in  view.  Such  an  adjura- 
tion of  the  infernal  spirits  implies,  of  course,  that 
the  sorcerer  has  by  word  and  action  taken  the 
final  step  in  his  abandonment  of  the  Christian 
faith  and  of  all  that  the  Church  counts  virtuous 
and  laudable.  He  takes  the  cross  from  his  neck 
and  tramples  upon  it ;  he  avoids  the  use  of  sacred 
words,  and  declares  himself  an  apostate  from 
Christ  and  His  saints.  A  person  who  has  thus 
given  himself  to  Satan  has  something  forbidding 
in  his  very  appearance  ;  it  is  believed  that  he  no 
longer  washes  himself  or  combs  his  hair.  In  Little 
Russia,  a  woman  who  desires  to  become  a  witch 
goes  at  midnight  to  some  river,  whence  the  evil 
spirit  comes  forth  to  meet  her.  But  she  must  pre- 
viously have  trodden  a  saint's  image  under  foot, 
and  removed  the  cross  from  her  neck. 

According  to  the  popular  superstition, — reflected 
also  in  the  language  of  incantations, — the  evil 
spirits  dwell  somewhere  in  the  North  or  West,  in 
a  'nocturnal'  land,  while  the  good  angels  are  in 
possession  of  the  realm  lying  to  the  East.  The 
region  peopled  by  demons  is  dark,  shrouded  in 
mist  and  cloud,  and  lies  deep  down  in  an  abyss. 
Another  belief,  and  one  which  is  widely  diffused, 
is  that  the  hosts  of  Satan  live  in  a  subterranean 
region,  whence  they  issue  forth  upon  the  world  at 
the  bidding  of  their  prince ;  or  in  deep  waters, 
unclean  places,  dense  forests,  and  marshes,  where 
the  sun  never  shines.  Bushes  of  elder  and  willow 
by  the  water-side  are  in  some  localities  believed  to 
be  the  favourite  haunts  of  demons.  They  leave 
their  lurking-place  in  the  vicinity  of  water  on  the 
6th  of  January,  i.e.  Epiphany,  when  the  priest 
blesses  the  water ;  they  then  migrate  to  an  abode 
in  the  meadows.  In  Passion-week,  again,  when 
the  meadows  are  consecrated,  they  pass  into  trees 
and  cornfields,  and  then,  at  the  festival  on 
the  1st  of  August,  they  leave  the  apple-tree — 
which  is  consecrated  on  that  day — and  return  to 
their  own  element.  Another  favourite  resort  of 
demons  is  the  cross-roads  {q.v.),  where  evil  spirits 
come  together  from  all  quarters  of  the  world. 
The  mill  and  the  uninhabited  house  are  also  well 
adapted  to  supply  a  lodging  for  demons.  They 
like  to  tarry  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  spot  where 
treasure  is  concealed.  On  Easter  Eve  and  the 
Eve  of  St.  John,  when  the  bracken  is  supposed 
to  flourish,  the  demons  endeavour  to  prevent  the 
blossoms,  which  possess  extraordinary  magical 
virtues,  from  falling  into  the  hands  of  human  be- 
ings.    At  the  hour  of  noon  they  muster  at  their 


favourite  spots  on  the  banks  of  lakes  and  rivers, 
and  it  is  therefore  dangerous  to  linger  in  the  open 
at  that  time.  There  is,  indeed,  a  special  midday- 
demon,  the  Bis  poludennyj.  It  is  believed  that  the 
spirits  retire  from  the  earth  and  return  to  Hell  in 
the  middle  of  November,  only,  however,  to  resume 
their  expeditions  in  spring,  when  Nature  re-awakes 
from  her  winter  sleep. 

Hell,  the  nether  lake  of  tire  and  smoke,  is,  in  a 
special  sense,  the  home  of  these  evil  spirits.  Here 
Lutsiper,  with  his  wife  and  attendants,  swims  and 
sails  about,  torturing  the  souls  of  the  dead.  The 
place  of  eternal  fire  is  depicted  as  a  bathroom  or 
stove,  in  the  heat  of  which  the  souls  are  tormented. 
The  belief  in  hell-fire  and  the  discovery  of  iron 
have  conspired  to  foster  another  notion,  viz.  that 
the  demons  are  smiths.  In  Russian  incantations 
we  find  mention  of  three  such  demonic  smiths,  the 
three  being  brothers.  The  idea  of  a  triad  of  fiends 
is  also  current  in  the  folk-lore  of  other  Slavic 
countries.  The  oldest  demon  of  all,  Lutsiper,  is 
very  frequently  referred  to  as  Herod — a  name 
which  probably  denotes  both  the  murderer  of  the 
innocents  and  the  slayer  of  John  the  Baptist. 
Other  names  applied  to  the  devil  are  '  the  hetman ' 
(of  his  hosts),  Judas,  Velzevul  (i.e.  Beelzebub),  and 
Satan.  According  to  the  legends,  the  chief  of  the 
infernal  forces  is  bound  with  a  chain,  which,  how- 
ever, in  consequence  of  the  sins  of  men,  wears  thin, 
and  would  long  ere  this  have  given  way  altogether, 
but  for  the  fact  that,  in  virtue  of  Christ's  resurrec- 
tion, it  is  restored  at  every  Easter-tide  to  its 
original  strength. 

In  addition  to  the  demons  named  above,  we  find 
here  and  there  a  large  and  powerful  female  being, 
whose  figure,  embellished  with  many  a  fantastic 
feature,  plays  a  great  part  in  Slavic  legendary  lore. 
This  is  the  Baba-jaga  (Russ.),  Jedza  (Pol.),  or 
Jeiibaba  (Slovak),  a  hideous  old  beldam,  whose 
children  are  the  evil  spirits,  or  who,  as  the  '  devil's 
dam,'  sends  forth  her  subject  spirits  into  the  world. 
She  is  said  to  steal  children  for  the  purpose  of 
gratifying  her  craving  for  human  flesh ;  to  fly  in 
company  with  the  spirit  of  death,  who  gives  her 
the  souls  of  the  dead  for  food  ;  and  to  stir  up  storm 
and  tempest  in  her  flight.  The  legends  also  tell 
that  she  has  teeth  and  Dreasts  of  iron,  with  which 
she  rends  her  victims,  and  that  her  home  is  in  a 
far-distant  forest. 

Among  other  Slavic  names  applied  to  evil  spirits  may  be 
mentioned  the  following:  iert  (Bohem.),  dort  (Russ.),  czart 
(Pol.)  ;  djavol  (Russ.),  djabel  (Bohem.)  ;  b$s,  vrag  ('  adversary '), 
lukavyj  ('the  crafty '),  kutsyj  (' short-tail '),  nedistyj  ('the 
unclean'),  dedjko  ('grandfather').  The  last-mentioned  (Little 
Russian)  epithet  is  applied  to  both  the  domestic  spirit  and  the 
devil,  and  in  this  it  resembles  the  Bohem.  diblik,  i.e.  '  house- 
goblin  '  (cf .  ddblik  =  diabolus,  as  also  the  Bohem.  spiritus  [  =  Lat. 
spiritus],  Slovak  pikulik,  which  corresponds  to  the  O.  Pruss. 
pickute).  This  is  one  of  the  numerous  facts  which  indicate  that 
heathen  demonology  and  the  Christian  conception  of  the  devil 
coalesced  in  the  idea  of  a  single  '  unclean  power.'  In  order  to 
avoid  giving  offence  to  the  demon  by  uttering  his  name,  the 
people  refer  to  him  simply  in  the  third  person,  as  'he'  or 
'  himself.' 

The  demons  are  represented  also  as  capable  of 
assuming  human  form,  and  as  having  the  qualities 
and  propensities  of  human  nature.  It  is  to  be 
noted,  however,  that  such  anthropomorphic  demons 
show  in  every  case  some  peculiar  feature  which 
distinguishes  them  from  mankind.  Thus,  the 
demon's  body  may  be  black,  or  covered  with  hair ; 
or  he  may  have  a  horn,  or  a  tail.  In  many  in- 
stances he  is  remarkably  small.  Occasionally  he 
can  be  recognized  by  his  red  and  fiery  eyes,  or  by 
the  absence  of  some  prominent  organ  of  the  body, 
such  as  an  eye  or  an  ear  ;  or,  again,  by  the  resem- 
blance of  his  feet  and  ears  to  those  of  a  domestie 
animal.  A  lame  person,  or  one  without  eyelashes, 
is  suspected  of  being  a  demon.  The  water-spirit 
often  appears  in  human  form,  and  his  real  nature 
is  then  recognizable  only  by  the  water  that  oozes 


624 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Slavic) 


from  his  hair  and  clothes.  The  devil,  again,  has 
a  special  liking  for  music,  and  dances  to  it.  He  is 
likewisefond  of  drinking  and  card-playing.  Demonic 
beings  have  strong  erotic  tendencies ;  one  of  their 
common  manoeuvres  is  to  waylay  women  and 
girls,  or,  again,  to  appear  before  a  young  man  in 
the  guise  of  a  beautiful  and  alluring  maiden.  It 
may  also  be  mentioned  that  some  demons  even 
demand  food,  but,  as  immaterial  beings,  may  be 
put  off  with  mere  odours  and  fumes. 

Demonic  beings  stand  in  awe  of  things  connected 
with  the  Church,  and  consecrated  objects  generally  ; 
and  these  accordingly  are  the  most  potent  amulets 
against  their  evil  practices.  Of  such  prophylactic 
articles  the  most  important  is  the  cross  ;  and  every- 
thing that  bears  that  symbol  shares  its  power. 
Other  effective  expedients  are  found  in  sacred 
tapers,  incense,  holy  water,  and  the  consecrated 
palm.  A  person  who  wishes  to  clear  his  house  of 
evil  spirits  resorts  with  all  confidence  to  prickly 
plants,  as  well  as  to  the  fern  and  garlic.  In  Servia, 
rubbing  the  breast  with  garlic  is  practised  as  a 
means  of  protection  against  a  spirit  that  flies  about 
by  night.  It  is  also  believed  that  the  demons  have 
an  aversion  to  wheat  and  flax,  as  the  consecrated 
wafer  is  prepared  from  the  former,  and  holy  oil 
from  the  latter.  The  glowing  firebrand  is  in  all 
cases  a  powerful  specific  against  demonic  agency. 

Those  demons  and  demonic  spirits  which  make 
their  abode  in  human  beings — the  witch,  the 
vampire,  the  demoniac — have  also  the  power  of 
assuming  an  almost  endless  variety  of  form.  When 
pressed  hard  by  a  thunderstorm,  they  may  change 
into  a  cat  or  a  goat.  Innumerable  stories  are  told 
of  their  having  been  seen  in  the  shape  of  a  horse, 
a  pig,  a  dog,  a  sheep,  a  mouse,  a  hare,  a  bird,  a 
peacock,  a  hen,  a  magpie,  a  butterfly,  a  fiery  serpent, 
or  even  a  ball  of  yarn.  The  Servian  sorceress,  the 
VjeStitsa,  harbours  a  demonic  spirit,  which  leaves 
her  during  sleep,  and,  flying  among  the  houses  in 
the  shape  of  a  bird  or  a  butterfly,  feeds  upon  the 
people — especially  children — whom  she  finds  asleep, 
tearing  out  and  devouring  their  hearts.  The 
Jedogonjaof  the  Serbs,  again,  may  remain  invisible. 
The  Jedogonja-spiiita  are  said  to  fight  with  one 
another  among  the  mountains,  their  missiles  being 
huge  boulders  and  uprooted  trees.  Upon  their 
influence  depends  the  state  of  the  weather,  and 
thus  also  the  fruitfulness  of  the  soil. 

A  special  instance  of  demonic  metamorphosis  is 
found  in  the  Slavic  werwolf — the  Vlkodlak{Bohem.), 
Vovkulak  (Lit.  Russ.),  Vukodlak  (Serbo-Croat.), 
Vliikolak  (Bulg.).  The  werwolf  is  a  man  who  can 
change  himself  into  a  wolf,  or  who  has  really 
become  a  wolf  by  the  enchantment  of  a  witch. 
The  belief  in  such  transformations  has  been  widely 
current  for  centuries ;  as  far  back  as  the  13th  cent., 
eclipses  of  the  sun  and  moon  were  attributed  to 
the  werwolf.  The  werwolf  figures  largely  in  legend. 
A  person  who  has  the  power  of  changing  at  will 
into  a  wolf  always  shows  some  point  of  difference 
— e.g.  in  his  birth  or  in  his  appearance — from  other 
people.  It  is  believed  that  his  father  was  a  wolf, 
and  that  he  himself  was  born  into  the  world  feet 
first.  In  the  upper  part  of  his  body  he  resembles 
a  human  being,  while  the  lower  part  suggests  the 
wolf.  He  has  also  a  wolf's  teeth  and  heart.  To 
become  a  werwolf  is  a  matter  of  no  great  difficulty 
One  need  only  drink  a  little  water  taken  from  the 
footprints  of  a  wolf,  or  turn  over  a  fallen  tree,  and 
then  put  on  a  wolfs  skin  ;  on  the  night  thereafter 
the  werwolf  appears,  bringing  terror  to  man  and 
beast.  In  some  districts  of  Bulgaria  it  is  believed 
that  the  Vliikolak  is  a  spirit  which  has  been  formed 
from  the  blood  of  a  murdered  man,  and  that  he 
haunts  the  scene  of  the  murder,  and  causes  the 
place  to  become  arid. 

Among  all  the  Slavic  peoples,   and   especially 


among  the  Serbs,  the  werwolf  is  often  confounded 
with  the  vampire  or  upir  (Serv.  vampir,  Lit.  Russ. 
upyr).  The  vampire  is  the  soul  of  a  dead  man, 
which  comes  forth  out  of  the  grave  for  the  purpose 
of  working  injury  upon  the  living.  The  Serbs 
believe  that  impious  people,  and  especially  witches, 
become  Vukodlaks  after  death,  and  drink  the  blood 
of  sleeping  persons.  When  an  unusually  large  num- 
ber of  deaths  take  place  in  a  village  community, 
the  calamity  is  attributed  to  the  Vukodlak.  Word 
passes  from  mouth  to  mouth  that  the  ghostly  evil- 
doer has  been  seen  as  he  moved  around  with  the 
mortcloth  upon  his  shoulders.  The  people  then  go 
to  the  churchyard  for  the  purpose  of  identifying 
his  grave.  They  take  with  them  a  foal,  and  the 
grave  upon  which  the  foal  stands  still  is  opened, 
and  the  body  taken  out  and  impaled  with  a  stake 
of  blackthorn  or  hawthorn.  In  other  districts 
similar  measures  are  resorted  to  when  the  people 
seek  to  deliver  their  homes  from  the  nocturnal  visits 
of  the  vampire.  In  Russia,  for  instance,  a  stake 
of  aspen  or  maple  is  thrust  into  the  corpse,  or  else 
the  grave,  of  the  person  upon  whom  suspicion  has 
fallen.  In  some  districts  the  corpse  is  burned,  or 
the  blood-vessels  severed  below  the  knee.  Besides 
the  vampire  of  the  dead,  however,  who  finds 
pleasure  in  tormenting  sleeping  persons  by  night, 
we  hear  also  of  a  living  vampire,  viz.  the  witch,  a 
being  endowed  with  demonic  power,  who  is  able  to 
kill  people,  to  bring  disease  and  misfortune,  and  to 
cause  stormy  weather.  Moreover,  all  ungodly 
persons,  and  all  who  have  been  cursed  by  their 
fellow-men,  or  have  died  by  violence,  become 
vampires.  We  hear  also  of  vampires  who  were 
originally  children  begotten  of  mankind  by  the 
devil,  or  children  who  died  unbaptized.  In  point 
of  fact,  any  ordinary  individual  is  liable  to  the 
repulsive  transformation  after  death  ;  if  an  unclean 
animal  or  bird — dog,  cat,  magpie,  cock — springs 
casually  over  his  dead  body,  or  if  he  is  not  buried 
according  to  the  ordinary  ritual  of  the  Church,  he 
thereby  becomes  a  vampire.  The  vampire  can  be 
recognized  in  the  grave  by  the  fact  that  his  corpse 
does  not  decay,  but  retains  a  ruddy  colour  in  the 
face,  and  has  the  mouth  smeared  with  blood.  His 
limbs  bear  marks  which  show  the  gnawing  of  his 
own  teeth.  When  at  length  he  begins  to  drink 
human  blood,  he  assumes  the  form  of  an  animal, 
or,  indeed,  of  an  object  of  any  kind.  We  may  also 
note  here  that,  according  to  a  popular  superstition 
in  Little  Russia,  every  witch  is  subject  to  an  upyr, 
who  was  born  with  her  and  with  whom  she  co- 
habits. 

To  the  same  class  of  tormenting  spirits  belong 
the  moras,  mura,  oxmara  (Russ.  and  Pol.),  marucha 
(Russ.),  kikimora  (Russ.),  morava  (Wend,  and 
Bulg. ) ;  cf .  the  Germ.  Mahr  or  Mahre,  Eng.  '  mare,' 
'nightmare.'  They  might  be  described  in  almost 
the  same  terms  as  the  vampire.  They,  too,  are 
the  souls  of  living  men,  which  leave  their  bodies 
by  night,  and  visit  sleepers  for  the  purpose  of 
tormenting  them.  In  Russia  and  Bulgaria,  how- 
ever, the  mora  is  thought  to  be  the  soul  of  a  child 
that  has  died  unbaptized,  or  has  been  cursed  by 
its  parents ;  or  it  is  a  spirit  which  dwells  in  the 
cemetery  and  makes  itself  visible  to  people  as  a 
ghastly  black  spectre.  Popular  superstition  invests 
it  with  certain  features  which  distinguish  it  from 
ordinary  human  beings.  The  soles  of  its  feet  are 
flat,  and  its  eyebrows  meet.  A  child  who  at  birth 
has  visible  teeth,  or  one  who,  having  been  taken 
from  his  mother,  commences  to  suck  again,  even- 
tually becomes  a  mora.  A  similar  development  is 
expected  in  the  case  of  a  child  whose  mother  during 
pregnancy  happens  to  go  out  of  her  room  just  as 
the  clock  strikes  the  hour  of  noon.  Further,  should 
anything  that  conflicts  with  the  tradition  of  the 
Church  take  place  during  baptism,  the  child  being 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Slavic) 


626 


baptized  is  thereby  doomed  to  become  a  mora.  It 
is  also  believed  that  a  witch  can  voluntarily  make 
herself  a  mora.  The  characteristic  pursuit  of  a 
mora  is  to  plague  her  sleeping  victims  with  had 
dreams  and  oppression  of  the  chest,  while  she  is 
sucking  blood  from  their  breasts.  During  the 
visitation  the  sleeper  is  incapable  of  speech  and 
motion.     But  the  mora  does  not  confine  her  evil 

Sractices  to  human  beings  ;  she  likewise  torments 
omestic  animals,  draining  them  of  milk  and  blood. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  not  a  difficult  matter  to  rid  one- 
self of  the  cruel  attentions  of  the  mora.  All  that 
is  necessary  is  to  offer  her  a  gift  of  some  eatable 
substance,  such  as  bread,  salt,  or  butter.  An 
effective  means  of  keeping  her  at  bay  is  to  place 
beside  the  sleeper  some  such  object  as  a  double 
triangle  (the  so-called  '  mora's  foot '),  a  mirror,  a 
broom,  a  steel  article,  etc. 

The  further  we  trace  the  mora  or  kikimora 
towards  the  East,  the  more  does  she  shed  her 
distinctive  characteristics  and  become  identified 
with  the  household  spirit  and  the  Nature-demon, 
to  which  are  ascribed  the  traits  which  belonged 
originally  to  her.  She  has  now  become  an  inmate 
of  the  house,  revealing  her  presence  by  her  nocturnal 
movements  ;  she  converses  with  people,  puts  them 
into  a  state  of  terror  and  causes  disquiet,  ravels 
the  work  of  the  sewer  or  spinner,  sits  spinning 
upon  the  stove,  or  busies  herself  with  tasks  that 
belong  to  the  housewif  e.  She  is  a  little  old  woman, 
and  lives  behind  the  stove.  When  the  inmates  of 
the  house  wish  to  rid  themselves  of  her  presence, 
they  sweep  the  stove  and  the  corners  of  the  room 
with  a  besom,  and  speak  the  words :  '  Thou 
must  go  away  from  this  place,  else  thou  shalt 
be  burned.'  In  some  parts  of  Russia  the  moras 
are  believed  to  be  repulsive-looking  dwarfs,  who 
may  be  found  as  crying  children  among  the  fields. 
In  Siberia  the  kikimora  has  become  a  forest- 
Bpirit. 

Analogous  to  the  mora  is  the  nocturnal  demon 
which  is  known  among  the  Slovaks,  Poles,  Serbs, 
and  Russians  as  the  nocnitsa  ( '  night-hag ').  When 
t  child  suffers  during  the  night  from  some  unknown 
ailment,  tossing  about  and  crying,  the  trouble  is 
set  down  to  the  nocnitsa,  who  torments  the  child 
by  tickling  it  or  sucking  its  blood,  or  disturbs  its 
sleep  by  her  mere  touch.  The  liability  to  such 
disturbance  is  attributed  to  the  mother's  having 
neglected  to  bless  her  child  the  evening  before.  In 
external  appearance  the  night-hag  remains  very 
indistinct ;  she  is  simply  a  female  demon  who 
wanders  around  in  the  darkness  of  night.  In  some 
localities  the  nocnitsas  are  supposed  to  form  a 
group  of  twelve  sisters.  It  should  be  noted,  more- 
over, that  a  similar  name,  polunocnitsa,  i.e.  'the 
midnight-woman,'  is  sometimes  applied  to  the 
Virgin  Mary.  In  the  Government  of  Archangel 
people  safeguard  themselves  from  the  nocnitsa  by 
drawing  a  circle  round  the  cradle  with  a  knife,  or 
placing  the  knife  within '  the  cradle,  or  by  putting 
an  axe,  a  doll,  and  a  spindle  beneath  the  floor,  or 
by  driving  a  piece  of  wood  into  the  wall.  The 
incantations  accompanying  these  actions  always 
contain  an  expression  of  the  wish  thatthe '  nocturnal 
nocnitsa '  will  no  longer  play  pranks  with  the  child, 
but  seek  to  find  amusement  in  the  things  thus 
offered  her.  Sometimes  an  oblation  of  bread  and 
salt  is  made  to  her,  part  of  it  being  rubbed  upon 
the  head  of  the  fretful  child,  and  the  rest  placed 
under  the  stove.  The  hag  who  torments  children 
by  night  is  also  known  in  Russia  by  the  names 
kriksy  (cf.  krik,  'scream')  and  plaksy  (cf.  plakat, 
'  cry ').  In  Bulgaria  a  corresponding  part  is  played 
by  a  frightful  wood-hag  called  gorska  makva, 
whose  head  somewhat  resembles  that  of  an  ox. 
Among  the  White  Russians  the  belief  has  been 
traced  that  the  nocturnal  spirit  produces  illness  in 
vol.  iv. — 40 


children  from  within,  having  first  found  his  way 
into  their  bodies. 

This  superstition  introduces  us  to  the  demons  of 
disease  strictly  so  called.  Certain  diseases  are 
commonly  believed  to  emanate  from  demonic 
beings  who  have  found  an  entrance  into  the  body 
of  their  victim,  and  thence  proceed  to  torment  him. 
This  holds  good  in  particular  of  fevers,  epilepsy, 
insanity,  and  plague.  Among  the  White  Russians, 
when  the  nature  of  the  malady  cannot  be  deter- 
mined, it  is  supposed  that  the  patient  is  tormented 
by  an  'unclean  power.'  In  such  cases  the  body  of 
the  afflicted  person  is  rubbed  with  a  piece  of  bread, 
which  is  then  carried  to  a  cross-way  by  night ; 
here  the  Dobrochot  (a  pet-name  for  the  demon, 
especially  the  domestic  spirit)  is  entreated  to  accept 
the  offering  thus  made,  and  to  absolve  the  sick 
man.  Those  engaged  on  an  errand  of  this  kind 
must  not  cross  themselves.  Here  we  have  a  vestige 
of  the  cult  of  the  dead ;  sometimes,  indeed,  it  is 
said  in  so  many  words  that  the  offering  is  intended 
for  the  dead.  There  are  occasions  upon  which  an 
individual  may  very  easily  fall  into  the  power  of 
the  demon  of  disease.  Such  an  occasion  is  birth, 
together  with  a  certain  period  thereafter,  lasting 
usually  until  the  child  is  Daptized.  It  is  imagined 
that  the  unclean  spirits  swarm  round  the  house  of 
the  mother,  and  resort  to  every  possible  means  of 
working  injury  both  to  her  and  to  her  child. 

The  demon  of  fever  is  believed  to  be  one  of  the 
three,  seven,  twelve,  or  seventy-seven  so-called 
Lichoradka-sisteis  (lichoradka  = '  fever ').  In  order 
to  secure  her  good  graces  the  people  speak  of  her 
by  such  endearing  epithets  as  '  god-mother '  and 
'  aunt.'  She  wanders  over  the  whole  world,  caus- 
ing illness  wherever  she  goes,  and  is  represented 
either  as  an  ugly,  lean,  naked,  and  hairy  beldam, 
or  as  a  young  and  beautiful  nymph.  Offerings  are 
presented  to  her  with  a  view  to  warding  off  her 
attacks.  If  the  infection  has  come  by  way  of  the 
earth,  an  oblation  of  corn  is  made  at  the  particular 
spot.  But  the  gift  is  more  frequently  cast  into  the 
water.  The  fever-patient  himself  cuts  an  egg  into 
seventy-seven  pieces,  which  he  then  throws  into 
a  river  as  he  utters  the  words :  '  Ye  are  seventy- 
seven  ;  here  is  a  portion  for  each  of  you ;  eat,  and 
meddle  not  with  me.'  When  the  festival  com- 
memorating the  dead  is  celebrated  in  White 
Russia,  the  Lichoradka  gets  a  share  of  the  feast. 
Among  other  measures  adopted  in  battling  with 
the  disease,  the  following  is  of  special  interest 
An  attempt  is  made  to  deceive  the  demon  in  such 
a  way  as  will  prevent  her  recognizing  the  sick 
person  when  she  returns  to  attack  him  again.  The 
patient's  name  is  changed  ;  his  face  is  covered  with 
a  mask,  and  words  are  written  on  the  door  to  say 
that  he  is  not  at  home.  Another  expedient  for 
scaring  the  demon  is  to  fire  a  gun.  The  diseased 
person  is  made  to  eat  bitter  and  fetid  things,  or  he 
is  fumigated  with  some  evil-smelling  substance,  in 
order  to  render  the  demon's  sojourn  within  the 
body  as  uncomfortable  for  herself  as  possible. 
The  most  reliable  prophylactic  of  all,  however,  is 
a  certain  incantation  in  which  occurs  an  interesting 
story  about  the  origin  of  the  Lichoradka-iemons. 
According  to  this  incantation,  they  are  the 
daughters  of  Herod,  and  the  oldest  and  most 
ferocious  of  all  is  the  one  on  whose  account  John 
the  Baptist  was  put  to  death.  At  the  command  of 
their  father  they  issue  forth  from  their  subter- 
ranean home  to  plague  the  inhabitants  of  the 
earth. 

A  frequent  disguise  of  the  demon  of  pestilence  is 
the  figure  of  a  woman — '  the  black  woman '  of  the 
Bulgarians  (in  Russia,  the  Morovaja  panna,  cuma, 
or  cholera ;  in  Servia,  the  kuga),  but  it  may  also 
take  shape  as  a  bird  or  an  animal — a  cat,  horse,  or 
cow.     The  Morovaja  panna,  clothed  in  white  and 


826 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Slavic) 


with  dishevelled  hair,  travels  by  night  from  place 
to  place,  making  her  journeys  either  by  waggon  or 
upon  the  back  of  some  one  whom  she  compels  to 
carry  her.  Her  breath  and  her  touch  are  fatal  to 
human  beings,  and  she  feeds  upon  the  bodies  of 
those  whom  she  slays.  The  most  effective  means 
of  warding  off  her  attacks  is  a  furrow  traced 
secretly  and  by  night  round  the  village,  with  a 
plough  guided  by  women  who  are  naked  or  clothed 
only  in  a  shirt,  as  the  pest-hag  dare  not  cross  such 
a  furrow.  In  many  districts  the  demons  of  pesti- 
lence are  believed  to  be  three  sisters.  A  widely 
current  notion  is  that  the  afflicted  person  has  in 
some  way  given  offence  to  the  demon  of  disease, 
whose  resentment  finds  vent  in  the  disorder.  In 
such  a  case  it  is  incumbent  upon  the  invalid  to  ask 
forgiveness  of  the  demon.  In  Russia,  for  instance, 
one  who  is  ill  with  smallpox  is  taken  to  another  in 
like  case,  and  makes  obeisance  to  the  latter,  saying  : 
'  I  ask  forgiveness,  spirit  of  smallpox  ;  absolve  me, 
daughter  of  Athanasius,  if  I  have  behaved  rudely 
towards  thee.'  The  same  purpose  is  served  by 
speaking  of  the  demon  under  endearing  names, 
and  thus  regaining  her  favour. 

Mental  derangement,  '  possession,'  affords  one  of 
the  clearest  instances  of  the  sojourn  of  a  demon  in 
a  person's  body.  Such,  for  example,  is  the  ikota  or 
khkuSestvo  malady  prevalent  in  Russia — a  state  of 
supposed  demoniacal  frenzy  which  can  be  induced 
by  the  machinations  of  a  witch.  At  her  command 
the  evil  spirit  takes  up  his  abode  within  the  body 
of  his  victim,  and  makes  his  presence  known  by 
giving  vent  to  abnormal  sounds,  such  as  neighing, 
barking,  and  the  like.  The  sufferer  may  be  re- 
lieved by  the  use  of  consecrated  objects  or  the 
adjurations  sanctioned  by  the  Church,  or,  again, 
by  putting  on  harness,  or  by  dipping  in  holy  water 
at  the  feast  of  Epiphany.  There  is,  however, 
another  theory  of  the  origin  of  lunacy  :  the  disease 
is  sometimes  attributed  to  an  evil  spirit  (forest 
demon,  etc.),  which  of  no  set  design  simply  flies 
past  a  person. 

The  truculent  spirit  of  pestilence  resembles  in 
outward  appearance  the  personified  figure  of  Death 
— the  Bohemian  Smrtnd  zena  or  Smrtnice.  The 
latter  also  is  a  woman,  haggard  and  dressed  in 
white,  who  walks  beneath  the  windows  of  a  house 
in  which  some  one  is  dying.  If  she  sits  down  at 
the  head  of  the  bed,  the  last  hope  of  recovery  is 
gone,  but,  if  she  places  herself  at  the  foot,  the 
invalid  may  get  well  again.  The  people  believe 
that  they  can  drive  away  the  demon  by  putting 
crosses  or  saints'  images  upon  the  bed ;  but  they 
are  ready,  on  the  other  hand,  to  admit  that  Death 
is  deaf  to  prayer.  In  Little  Russia  and  Moravia  it 
is  thought  that  Death  lives  under  the  earth,  in  a 
room  lit  by  innumerable  candles,  some  of  which 
are  just  being  lit,  and  others  upon  the  point  of 
going  out.  The  candles  stand  for  human  lives, 
over  which  Death  holds  sway.  This  attribute  of 
power  over  human  life  belongs  both  to  the  spirit  of 
Death  and  to  the  goddess  of  Fate. 

The  whole  course  of  a  man's  life,  from  its  first 
hour  to  its  last,  is  pre-ordained  at  his  birth  by  the 
goddesses  of  Fate.  This  belief,  inherited  from 
Greek  and  Roman  mythology,  seems  to  have  been 
prevalent  among  the  Southern  and  Western  Slavs. 
In  the  written  documents  of  these  peoples,  as  far 
back  as  the  12th  cent.  A.D.,  we  find  mention  of 
these  goddesses  and  of  the  sacrificial  festivals 
instituted  in  their  honour.  Among  the  Eastern 
Slavs,  on  the  other  hand,  the  belief  in  three  Fates 
who  control  the  lives  of  all  human  beings  does  not 
appear  ever  to  have  had  any  outstanding  vogue. 
Here,  in  fact,  their  function  was  taken  over  by  the 
Dolja  (the  Sreia  or  '  Fortune '  of  the  Serbs) — a 
personification  of  the  good  or  evil  fortune  of  the  I 
individual.  ' 


"When  a  birth  occurs,  the  newly-born  child  is 
visited  in  the  night-time  by  the  three  Fates  (Serb 
and  Sloven.  Rodjenice,  Sudnice,  Sudjenice ;  Bohem. 
Sudicky  ;  Bulg.  RoZdenici,  Orisnici) — beautiful, 
richly-attired,  diaphanous  maidens.  They  ordain 
the  destiny  of  the  child,  and  determine  the  manner 
of  its  death.  It  is  generally  believed  that  tha 
decisive  forecast  is  that  pronounced  by  the  one  who 
speaks  last.  In  order  to  induce  the  Fates  to  assign 
a  favourable  destiny  to  the  child,  gifts  and  offerings 
are  presented  to  them.  Among  the  Southern  Slavs 
and  Bohemians  these  presents  are  in  the  form  of 
food — bread,  salt,  or  wine — placed  on  the  table, 
or,  it  may  be,  in  hollows  among  the  rocks,  as  it  is 
believed  by  the  Slovenians  that  the  Rodjenice  live 
in  rocks  and  mountains.  In  Bulgaria,  on  the  even- 
ing upon  which  the  visit  of  the  Orisnici  is  expected, 
it  is  customary  to  partake  of  a  special  supper,  after 
which  three  pieces  of  bread  are  placed  at  the  head 
of  the  newly- oorn  infant,  in  the  hope  that  they  may 
prove  an  acceptable  offering  to  the  august  visitors. 
It  may  be  incidentally  mentioned  that  the  Virgin 
Mary  is  sometimes  confounded  with  the  goddess  of 
destiny. 

The  Dolja  is,  so  to  speak,  a  family  heirloom 
which  descends  to  a  person  from  his  parents.  It 
accompanies  him  throughout  his  whole  life ;  it 
sleeps  with  him  in  the  cradle,  nor  does  it  desert 
him  when  he  removes  to  another  locality.  It 
resembles  the  domestic  spirit  in  so  far  as  it  works 
on  behalf  of  its  protege  from  morning  till  night ;  it 
takes  care  of  his  children,  does  its  best  to  make  his 
land  fruitful,  brings  him  corn  from  other  people's 
fields,  promotes  his  success  in  fishing,  guards  his 
cattle,  and,  in  a  word,  secures  his  good  fortune  and 
prosperity  in  every  way.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
Dolja  of  an  unfortunate  man,  which  in  Russia  is 
also  called  Beda,  '  distress,'  Gore,  '  misery,'  or 
Zlydni,  'ill  luck,'  is  a  good-for-nothing  creature, 
which  dozes  idly  amongst  moss,  or  tries  in  every 
possible  way  to  mar  whatever  prosperity  the  man 
enjoys.  In  most  cases  a  person's  subjugation  to 
the  Zlydni  is  an  indication  that  his  present  em- 
ployment does  not  accord  with  his  true  vocation. 
It  is  sometimes  stated  that  the  attendant  spirit 
advises  its  protege  to  choose  another  pursuit, 
promising  that,  if  he  does  so,  good  fortune  will 
never  desert  him.  The  Dolja  is  generally  supposed 
to  have  the  form  of  a  human  being,  but  it  should 
be  noted  that  it  need  not  be  of  the  same  sex  as  the 
person  to  whom  it  belongs.  Occasionally,  however, 
its  figure  is  that  of  an  animal — a  dog  or  a  cat.  It 
lives  under  or  behind  the  stove,  as  is  usually  the 
case  also  with  the  household  spirit.  A  good  Dolja 
may  be  persuaded  by  prayers  and  sacrificial  gifts 
to  attend  faithfully  upon  a  person.  Thus  a  bride 
who  is  setting  out  for  the  marriage  ceremony  prays 
that  the  good  Dolja  will  sit  beside  her  in  the 
carriage,  and  that  the  unfavourable  Dolja  may 
perish  in  water.  In  White  Russia  the  bride  says : 
'  Come  out  of  the  stove  in  the  form  of  a  flame  and 
go  with  me,  leaving  the  room  by  the  chimney.' 
Young  women  who  wish  to  be  married  make 
pottage,  and  ask  the  Dolja  to  take  supper  with 
them.  A  rarer  form  of  the  superstition  is  that 
there  is  but  one  all-embracing  Dolja,  on  whom 
depends  the  prosperity  of  every  human  being. 
This  universal  Dolja  is  depicted  as  an  old  woman, 
and  as  living  sometimes  in  a  miserable  hovel,  and 
sometimes  in  a  splendid  palace.  The  lot  of  the 
newly-born  child  is  determined  by  the  character  of 
the  place  in  which  the  Dolja  happens  to  be  residing 
at  the  hour  of  birth. 

We  proceed  next  to  treat  the  belief  in  domestic 
spirits,  the  Domovojs  or  Domoviks.  Many  elements 
in  this  form  of  superstition  suggest  that  the  being 
who  is  worshipped  as  a  household  god  is  really  the 
spirit  of  the  ancestor,  or  founder  of  the  family,  who, 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Slavic) 


627 


though  long  dead,  still  attends  to  the  interests  of 
his  descendants.  Here  and  there  we  find  a  survival 
of  the  belief  that  all  who  die  in  any  particular  house 
become  its  domestic  spirits.  At  the  festivals  held 
in  commemoration  of  ancestors,  honours  are  paid 
to  the  household  spirit  as  well.  In  point  of  fact, 
the  latter  is  often  called  Ded,  or  (in  Galicia)  Didko, 
'grandfather,'  and  those  who  have  seen  him  de- 
scribe him  as  a  little  old  man  with  grey  hair  and  a 
long  beard,  clad  in  old-fashioned  garments  and 
resembling  in  outward  appearance  the  existing 
head  of  the  family.  With  the  last-mentioned 
characteristic  is  connected  the  designation  of 
'landlord,'  Bohem.  hospoddfiiek,  sometimes  given 
him  ;  cf .  the  idiomatic  use  of  '  himself. '  In  certain 
localities  he  is  referred  to  as  '  the  one  who  lives  on 
the  Btove,'  as  the  stove  is  his  favourite  resort. 
Although  he  is  not  a  Christian,  he  does  not  like  to 
be  spoken  of  as  a  '  devil ' — an  appellation  which 
may  enrage  him,  and  incite  him  to  take  revenge 
by  visiting  with  a  disease  the  person  applying  the 
term  to  him.  Consequently  people  are  careful  not 
to  offend  him  in  this  way,  even  avoiding  the  use  of 
his  right  name.  It  is  sufficient  to  refer  to  him  as 
' he'  or  ' himself.'  When  any  one  has  fallen  ill  in 
consequence  of  having  insulted  the  household  spirit, 

Erayer  is  made  for  him  thus  :  '  Perhaps  the  invalid 
as  uttered  foolish  words  and  slighted  you,  or  kept 
the  cattle-shed  unclean  :  forgive  him.' 

Every  house  has  its  Domovoj,  who  has  also  a  wife 
and  even  a  family.  He  engages  in  such  tasks  as 
devolve  upon  the  painstaking  head  of  a  house.  He 
bestirs  himself  by  night,  and  people  have  even  seen 
him  as  he  moves  about  the  yard  with  a  light  in  his 
hand,  seeming  always  to  have  something  to  do. 
Strange  noises,  movements  of  doors,  mysterious 
voices,  etc.,  heard  during  the  night,  are  all  at- 
tributed to  him.  He  is  of  a  merry  and  facetious 
disposition,  and  many  of  his  actions  are  but  mani- 
festations of  his  good  humour.  The  cleanliness  and 
good  order  of  the  establishment  are  his  great  aims. 
A  strange  Domovoj,  on  the  other  hand,  causes 
nothing  but  mischief  and  inconvenience,  and  every 
effort  is  made  to  dislodge  the  intruder.  People 
believe  that,  in  guarding  the  house,  the  true 
Domovoj  often  comes  into  conflict  with  some  alien 
household  spirit ;  and  it  may  also  be  mentioned 
that  he  protects  the  household  against  the  violence 
of  forest-spirits  and  witches. 

When  tlie  domestic  spirit  finds  anything  about 
the  house  not  to  his  liking,  he  manifests  his  dis- 
pleasure in  various  ways.  He  indulges  in  all  kinds 
of  violence  j  throws  utensils  upon  the  floor,  annoys 
people  and  animals  in  their  sleep,  and  may  even 
destroy  the  whole  place  by  fire.  Like  the  mora, 
he  leaps  upon  the  sleeper,  pressing  upon  him  and 
causing  difficulty  in  breathing.  A  person  with 
hairy  hands  who  touches  the  Domovoj  in  the  dark- 
ness may  expect  something  good  to  befall  him,  but 
to  touch  him  with  a  smooth  or  cold  hand  is  a 
presage  of  ill-luck.  It  is  believed  generally  that 
when  something  unusual  is  about  to  take  place  in 
the  household,  the  Domovoj  gives  warning  thereof 
by  letting  himself  be  seen,  by  his  movements,  or 
by  his  faint  utterances.  We  may  observe  in  pass- 
ing that  the  Wends  believe  in  a  spirit  whose  special 
function  it  is  to  convey  the  message  of  death. 
This  is  the  Bozaloshtsh,  '  God's  plaint,'  a  little 
woman  with  long  hair,  who  cries  like  a  child 
beneath  the  window. 

When  a  person  moves  into  another  house,  or 
migrates  to  another  district,  he  prays  the  house- 
hold spirit  to  accompany  him.  An  offering  of 
bread  and  salt  is  placed  somewhere  for  the  spirit's 
acceptance,  and  the  head  of  the  house  appeals  to 
him  with  the  petition  :  '  I  bow  before  thee,  my 
host  and  father,  and  beseech  thee  to  enter  our  new 
dwelling  ;  there  shalt  thou  find  a  warm  place,  and 


a  morsel  of  provender  which  has  been  prepared  for 
thee.'  In  some  localities  the  housewife  ueats  up 
the  stove  of  the  old  house,  then  draws  out  the 
glowing  brands,  which  are  to  be  carried  to  the  new 
residence,  and  finally,  turning  towards  the  recess 
at  the  back,  utters  the  words  '  Welcome,  grand- 
father, to  the  new  home  ! '  Occasionally  we  come 
upon  the  belief  that,  if  the  old  house  falls  into 
ruins,  or  is  destroyed  by  fire,  it  is  a  sign  that  the 
domestic  spirit  has  never  left  it.  On  other  occa- 
sions likewise,  the  goodwill  of  the  household  spirit 
is  usually  secured  by  means  of  sacrificial  gifts.  A 
dyed  egg  or  other  portion  of  food  is  placed  in  the 
yard  for  his  use,  prayer  being  made  at  the  same 
time  for  his  friendship.  Part  of  the  evening  meal 
is  left  upon  the  table  in  the  belief  that  the 
Domovoj  will  come  in  the  night  and  eat  it.  In  the 
evening,  again,  broth  is  placed  on  the  stove,  and  a 
meal  of  eggs  on  the  roof,  for  the  purpose  of  induc- 
ing him  to  take  more  interest  in  the  fortunes  of 
the  house.  Before  Lent  the  head  of  the  house 
invites  the  Domovoj  to  supper  by  going  into  the 
yard  and  bowing  towards  the  four  cardinal  points, 
while  the  meal  is  allowed  to  remain  on  the  table 
during  the  succeeding  night. 

In  Russia  the  household  spirit  is  known  also  by 
other  names,  which  vary  according  to  the  place  in 
which  his  activity  seems  to  focus.  When  he  lives 
in  the  cattle  shed,  he  is  called  Chlevnik ;  in  the 
yard,  Dvorovoj ;  in  the  drying-kiln,  Ovinnik  ;  in 
the  bathroom,  Bannik.  A  vital  condition  of  suc- 
cessful cattle-rearing  is  that  the  Chlevnik  should 
have  a  liking  for  the  cattle,  so  that  he  will  not 
molest  them  by  night.  The  breeder  must  accord- 
ingly try  to  discover,  or  else  guess,  the  particular 
colour  of  cattle  which  his  Chlevnik  favours,  or  the 
particular  place  where  he  wishes  the  cattle-shed  to 
stand.  When  an  animal  is  purchased  and  brought 
home,  it  is  thought  advisable  to  present  an  offering 
of  food  to  the  spirit,  with  the  prayer  that  he  wiS 
give  the  new-comer  a  good  reception,  guard  it  from 
mishap,  and  provide  it  with  abundant  food.  In 
many  districts  we  find  the  Domovoj  and  the 
Chlevnik  included  in  the  group  of  ill-disposed 
spirits,  and  every  effort  is  made  to  expel  them  from 
the  homestead,  either  by  striking  the  walls  and 
corners  and  sprinkling  them  with  holy  water,  or 
by  placing  upon  the  roof  an  overturned  harrow  or 
a  magpie  that  has  been  killed.  In  the  province  of 
Archangel,  when  the  women  enter  the  cattle-shed 
in  the  morning,  they  entreat  the  Chlevnik  to  go 
out  by  the  window.  The  Bannik  lives  in  the 
bathroom,  behind  the  stove  or  under  the  seat.  It 
is  dangerous  for  any  one  to  go  there  alone  in  the 
evening  or  by  night,  as  the  spirit  who  presides 
there  may  work  him  harm.  When  the  inmates  of 
the  house  bathe,  they  leave  a  little  water  in  the 
bath,  and  a  little  soap  upon  the  bench,  as  it  is 
believed  that  the  Bannik  and  other  domestic  spirits 
will  wish  to  bathe  a  little  later.  To  ensure  the  pros- 
perity of  the  bath-room,  a  black  hen  is  buried 
under  the  threshold  as  a  sacrifice.  As  regards  the 
Ovinnik,  again,  the  people  beseech  him  to  grant 
them  a  successful  threshing.  He  is  solicitous  that 
the  drying-kiln  should  not  be  heated  on  the  great 
festival-days.  Should  this  be  done  he  may  take 
revenge  by  destroying  the  building  with  fire. 
When  the  workers  have  completed  some  task  in 
the  drying-house,  they  thank  him  for  his  faithful 
service.  Those  who  desire  to  be  on  amicable  terms 
with  him  drop  the  blood  of  a  cock  round  about  the 
kiln. 

What  has  been  said  above  regarding  the  house- 
hold spirit  applies  more  particularly  to  Russia. 
Among  the  Western  and  Southern  Slavs,  however, 
a  less  important  place  is  assigned  to  him.  Here, 
in  fact,  he  has  acquired  the  attributes  of  a  pro- 
tective and  ministrant  spirit.     The  Galician  didko. 


628 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Slavic) 


the  Bohemian  Setek  ('  old  one  '),  hospod&ficek,  and 
skfitek,  the  Wendic  kobud  ('goblin'),  the  Polish 
skrzat,  and  the  Slovakian  Skrat  are  each  of  them 
ready  to  give  their  services  on  condition  that  the 
person  requiring  help  will  make  a  compact  with 
them,  or  summon  them  by  incantations,  or  present 
oblations  of  food  to  them.  But  there  are  other 
ways  of  securing  the  good  offices  of  such  demons. 
Thus,  a  man  may  give  a  written  undertaking 
assigning  to  the  demon  his  own  soul,  or  one  of  his 
relatives,  or  some  part  of  his  body.  The  spirit  is 
invoked  either  under  the  stove-pipe  or  at  cross- 
roads. He  may  also  be  brought  forth  from  an 
egg  ;  the  egg  of  a  black  hen  is  carried  about  in  the 
left  breast  for  seven  days,  after  which  period  the 
demon  comes  visibly  out  of  the  egg.  The  spirit, 
who  has  the  appearance  either  of  a  boy  or  of  a 
little  old  man,  bestows  money  and  corn  upon  his 
protege,  protects  his  property,  and  fodders  his 
cattle.  The  Polish  skrzatek  is  a  winged  creature 
which  supplies  corn,  and,  when  flying  about  in  the 
vicinity  of  houses,  steals  children.  Its  Wendic 
counterpart  is  the  plon,  a  dragon  in  the  form  of  a 
fiery  sphere  ;  a  common  saying  about  a  rich  man 
is  :  '  He  has  a  plon.'  Theplon  may  assume  various 
shapes,  and  the  proper  place  to  confer  with  him  is 
the  cross-roads.  The  flying  dragon  smok  appears 
in  the  folklore  of  all  the  Slavic  peoples.  Another 
widely  prevalent  idea  is  that  every  house  has  its 
own  'lucky  serpent,' which  has  its  habitat  under 
the  floor  or  the  stove,  and  brings  wealth  to  the 
house.  Among  the  Bohemians  and  the  Wends  it 
is  believed  that  the  house  has  both  a  male  and  a 
female  serpent,  the  former  representing  the  head 
of  the  house,  the  latter  his  wife.  The  death  of 
either  of  the  serpents  presages  the  death  of  the 
corresponding  human  individual.  Similarly  the 
Bulgarians  have  their  stihija  or  tolosom,  a  house- 
hold spirit  in  the  form  of  a  serpent.  The  Skrat  of 
Slovenian  folklore  dwells  in  woods  and  mountains 
— a  belief  which  indicates  that  this  demon  was 
originally  a  forest-spirit :  cf .  the  Serat,  or  Schrat,  of 
the  Germans. 

This  brings  us  to  the  domain  of  Nature-demons, 
and  here  we  have,  first  of  all,  the  large  group  of 
forest- and  field-spirits.  In  Russia  the  forest-spirit 
is  named  LjeSyj,  or  LjeSovik,  'wood-king,'  in 
Bohemia,  Hejkal,  or  '  the  wild  man.'  In  outward 
appearance  he  resembles  a  human  being,  but  his 
skin  and  hairy  body  betray  his  real  nature.  The 
hair  of  his  head  is  long  and  his  beard  is  green. 
Other  points  that  differentiate  him  from  mankind 
are  his  solitary  eye  and  his  lack  of  eyebrows.  He 
has  the  power  of  changing  his  size  at  will,  showing 
himself  sometimes  as  large  as  a  tree  and  sometimes 
no  taller  than  grass.  He  can  also  transform  him- 
self into  an  animal,  his  favourite  disguise  being 
the  shape  of  a  wolf.  He  is  said  to  retire  under  the 
earth  during  winter.  The  beasts  and  birds  of  the 
forest  are  subject  to  him,  and  he  frequently  drives 
them  in  huge  flocks  from  one  wood  to  another.  In 
guarding  his  own  particular  forest,  he  sometimes 
comes  into  conflict  with  the  demons  of  other  forests 
and  with  the  water-demon,  and  the  battles  that 
ensue  become  manifest  to  man  in  the  falling  of 
trees  and  the  shriek  of  the  storm.  The  forest- 
spirit  likes  to  lead  people  out  of  their  way,  enticing 
them  to  follow  him,  and  taking  them  to  some 
dangerous  spot.  He  also  kidnaps  children,  leaving 
changelings  of  his  own  family  in  their  place. 
Should  he  happen  merely  to  pass  a  person,  the 
latter  may  sicken  with  disease  ;  nay,  one  has  only 
to  tread  upon  his  footprint  and  a  like  unfortunate 
result  follows.  The  forest-spirit  makes  his  pre- 
sence known  by  all  kinds  of  sounds :  he  laughs, 
claps  his  hands,  and  imitates  the  cries  of  various 
animals.  When  a  person  calls  and  an  echo  fol- 
lows, the  demon  is  supposed  to  be  answering  him. 


One  of  his  favourite  amusements  is  swinging  on 
trees. 

The  hunter  and  the  herdsman  depend  for  their 
success  upon  the  good-will  of  the  forest-spirit,  and 
accordingly  they  offer  sacrifices  to  him  and  beseech 
him  to  make  them  prosperous.  For  his  acceptance 
the  hunter  sets  bread  and  salt  upon  the  trunk  of  a 
tree ;  the  herdsman,  in  order  to  induce  the  spirit 
to  keep  the  wild  beasts  from  his  cattle,  promises 
him  a  cow.  If  a  huntsman  will  pledge  his  soul  to 
the  demon,  the  latter  will  give  in  exchange  success 
in  the  chase.  The  man  who  desires  to  make  such 
a  bargain  turns  towards  the  north,  and  prays  the 
demon  to  enter  into  a  covenant  of  friendship  with 
him  ;  the  demon  may  then  show  himself  favourable 
to  the  man's  prayer.  The  White  Russians  speak 
of  their  forest-spirit  as  Onufrius,  and  in  fact  they 
frequently  give  saints'  names  to  the  spirits  of  the 
fields  and  the  meadows.  It  should  be  noted  here 
that  the  patron  saint  of  the  woods  is  St.  George, 
and  that  all  wild  animals  are  subject  to  him. 

Besides  the  male  forest -spirit,  there  are  also 
numerous  female  spirits  of  the  woods — the  Bohem. 
Divi  zeny,  the  Polish  Dziwozony  and  Mamony, 
'  wild  women.'  They,  too,  resemble  human  beings 
in  appearance,  as  also  in  their  manner  of  life. 
They  are  represented  as  women  of  enormous 
stature,  with  long  hair  and  large  breasts.  They 
have  their  abode  in  mountain  caverns.  They 
are  very  fond  of  taking  human  children  in 
exchange  for  their  own  ugly,  large-headed  off- 
spring, or  they  simply  steal  the  children.  The 
forest-nymphs,  on  the  other  hand,  are  fair  and 
fascinating  creatures,  lightly  garbed  and  covered 
with  leaves.  They  like  to  dance,  and  will  continue 
dancing  with  a  man  till  he  dies,  unless  he  happen 
to  know  how  to  free  himself  from  their  toils,  as, 
e.g.,  by  turning  his  pocket  inside  out.  It  is  believed 
that  a  person  who  accidentally  intrudes  upon  their 
invisible  dancing  parties  is  doomed  to  die.  It 
sometimes  happens  that  a  man  marries  a  wood- 
nymph,  but  such  a  union  is  very  easily  dissolved, 
and,  unless  the  man  is  all  the  more  circumspect, 
his  spirit- wife  may  vanish  without  leaving  a  trace 
behind.  In  certain  localities  it  is  supposed  that 
these  forest-maidens  are  human  children  whom 
some  one  has  cursed,  and  that  they  can  deliver 
themselves  from  the  curse  only  by  marriage  with  a 
human  being. 

The  characteristics  of  the  forest-spirits  are  almost 
without  exception  ascribed  likewise  to  the  Servian 
and  Bulgarian  Vila  and  the  Russian  Rusalka. 
With  regard  to  the  Vilas  (Bulg.  Samovila,  Juda- 
Samovila,  Samodiva)  the  belief  still  survives  that 
they  are  the  souls  of  deceased  children  or  virgins. 
They  are  beautiful,  white-robed,  light-footed 
damsels,  who  dwell  in  woods,  mountains,  and 
lakes,  and  fly  in  the  clouds.  They  too  are  noted 
for  their  dancing  and  exquisite  singing.  They 
have  been  observed  washing  their  garments  and 
drying  them  in  the  sun.  They  have  a  considerable 
amount  of  intercourse  with  mankind,  and  in 
popular  legend  they  sometimes  even  intermarry 
with  men.  They  are  represented  in  folk-songs  as 
the  adopted  sisters  of  popular  heroes.  Should  a 
person  excite  their  resentment,  especially  by 
intruding  upon  their  kolo-da.nce,  they  take  revenge 
by  shooting  the  unfortunate  man  with  their  deadly 
arrows.  It  is  believed  among  the  Bulgarians  that 
blindness,  deafness,  and  apoplexy  are  the  work  of 
the  Samovilas.  The  state  of  the  weather  depends 
to  some  extent  on  them,  as  they  have  the  power  of 
causing  tempest  and  rain.  In  many  districts  the 
people  offer  sacrifices  to  the  Vilas  in  the  form  of 
flowers,  fruits,  or  garments,  placed  upon  trees  or 
stones. 

What  has  been  said  of  the  Vilas  holds  good,  for 
the  most  part,  also  of  the  Russian  Rusalkas — deli- 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Slavic) 


629 


cate  female  beings  who  live  in  forests,  fields,  and 
waters.  These  likewise  are  souls  of  thedead,  mainly 
of  unbaptized  children,  and  women  who  have  died 
by  drowning.  Among  the  Little  Russians  and  the 
Slovenians  they  are  sometimes  called  Mavki, 
Mavje,  '  the  dead.'  They  are  said  to  solicit  human 
beings  for  crosses,  in  the  hope  that  these  sacred 
objects  may  deliver  them  from  the  curse  under 
which  they  lie.  With  their  ravishing  songs  in 
the  night  they  draw  people  irresistibly  into  their 
power,  and  then  tickle  them  till  they  die.  Another 
of  their  means  of  allurement  is  the  ignis  fatuus. 
The  Wends,  we  may  note  in  passing,  think  that 
the  Blud,  '  will-o'-the-wisp,'  is  itself  the  soul  of 
an  unbaptized  child.  When  the  crops  begin  to 
ripen,  the  Rusalkas  find  their  favourite  abode  in 
the  cornfields.  They  have  it  in  their  power  to 
bless  the  earth  with  fruitfulness.  It  is  also  said 
that  they  take  pleasure  in  spinning,  and  that  they 
hang  their-  clothes  on  trees.  During  Whitsun- 
week — a  period  which  in  many  districts  is  dedi- 
cated to  them  and  to  the  souls  of  the  departed  in 
general — they  come  to  women  in  visible  form,  re- 
questing gifts  of  shirts  and  clothes,  and  such 
garments  are  accordingly  presented  to  them  by 
being  placed  upon  trees.  The  week  after  Pente- 
cost was  in  ancient  times  called  '  the  week  of  the 
Rusalkas.'  At  that  season  is  held  '  the  escort  of 
the  Rusalkas,'  a  procession  in  which  a  straw  doll 
representing  the  Rusalka  is  carried  out  of  the 
village,  then  torn  to  pieces  and  thrown  into  the 
water.  This  ceremony  has  been  explained  as 
symbolizing  the  expulsion  of  the  Rusalkas  from 
the  place,  in  view  of  their  propensity  to  inflict 
damage  on  the  ripening  grain.  But  in  all  prob- 
ability the  practice  was  originally  connected  with 
the  Spring  festival.  The  name  Rusalka,  and  the 
conception  of  the  Rusalka  festival,  had  their 
origin  in  the  Grseco-Roman  solemnity  called 
'  Rosalia,'  '  dies  rosae,'  observed  in  spring  in 
memory  of  the  dead.  The  design  of  commemorat- 
ing the  dead  may  still  be  traced  in  certain  ideas 
associated  with  the  Rusalka  festival,  as,  e.<7.,inthe 
belief  that  a  person  who  does  not  take  part  in  the 
memorial  function  for  the  dead,  and  does  not  offer 
sacrifice  to  them,  thereby  becomes  liable  to  the 
vengeance  of  the  Rusalkas.  It  should  also  be 
mentioned  that,  just  as  the  name  Rusalka  is  de- 
rived from  '  Rosalia,'  so  the  word  Vila  has  been 
explained  as  a  survival  from  another  memorial 
festival  for  the  dead  observed  among  the  Romans, 
viz.  the  '  dies  violae.' 

In  some  districts  a  distinction  is  drawn  between 
forest  Rusalkas  and  water  Rusalkas.  The  latter 
have  their  abode  in  rivers  and  cascades ;  they 
disport  themselves  upon  the  surface  of  the  water, 
and  comb  their  long  hair  upon  the  banks.  They 
also  prowl  after  bathers,  and  bathing  is  therefore 
avoided  during  the  Rusalka  festival.  Similar 
traits  are  popularly  ascribed  to  the  '  water-man ' 
(Russ.  Vodjanoj,  Morskoj  tsar  ;  Sloven.  Povodnji  ; 
Wend.  Vodny  mui,  Nyks  ;  Bohem.  Vodnik,  Hastr- 
man ;  Pol.  Topielec,  Topnik),  and  also  to  the 
'water-people,'  as  it  is  believed  that  the  water- 
man has  a  family— a  wife,  'the  water- woman, ' 
and  children — and  even  cattle.  Every  body  of 
water  has  its  presiding  demon,  who  dwells  in  a 
magnificent  palace  far  below.  A  water-spirit  can 
make  a  new  lake  for  himself,  passing  out  of  his  old 
resort  in  the  form  of  a  brook.  His  favourite  haunt 
is  in  the  vicinity  of  mills,  but,  as  mills  and  weirs 
block  his  way,  he  often  destroys  them  in  his  rage. 
When  any  one  is  drowned,  the  water-man  is  the 
cause,  and  it  is  dangerous  to  rescue  a  drowning 
person,  as  one  thereby  provokes  the  animositv  of 
the  demon.  The  souls  of  those  who  have  died"  by 
drowning  are  immured  in  his  house.  He  is  said 
to  marry  women  who  have  been  drowned  and  girls 


who  have  been  expatriated.  He  has,  in  fact,  a 
special  liking  for  inveigling  women  into  his  toils. 
He  plays  all  sorts  of  pranks  with  people ;  he 
chases  the  traveller,  or  seats  himself  upon  the 
cart  of  the  belated  waggoner  ;  and  the  victims  of 
his  jocularity,  fearing  his  resentment,  generally 
submit  without  resistance.  His  power  is  at  its 
height  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  it  is  at  that 
time  that  the  female  water- wraith  of  the  Wends 
comes  forth  from  the  water.  In  Bohemia  people 
tell  how  he  dances  on  clear  moonlit  nights.  He 
sometimes  indulges  in  strong  drink,  and,  when 
drunk,  makes  an  uproar  and  jumps  about,  thus 
disturbing  the  ordinary  flow  of  the  stream.  It 
not  seldom  happens  that  the  water-spirit  and  the 
forest-spirit  have  fierce  encounters  with  each 
other.  When  the  wife  of  the  water-spirit  requires 
the  midwife,  he  applies  for  human  help.  He  gives 
timely  warning  of  coming  floods  to  those  with 
whom  he  is  on  friendly  terms.  Millers  and  fisher- 
men seek  to  win  his  goodwill  by  sacrifices.  For 
his  use  the  miller  casts  fat,  swine's  flesh,  or  a  horse 
into  the  water.  In  former  times,  when  a  mill  was 
built,  it  was  the  custom  to  present  a  live  offering 
— sometimes  even  a  human  being — to  the  water- 
man. The  fisher  tenders  him  salt,  bread,  tobacco, 
and  the  first  fish  of  his  catch.  The  bee-keeper 
tries  to  win  his  good  graces  by  oblations  of  bees 
and  honey.  As  the  water-man  is  lord  over  all 
aquatic  birds,  the  goose-herd  undertakes  to  make 
him  the  offering  of  a  goose  in  the  autumn.  We 
may  here  draw  attention  to  the  curious  fact  that 
among  the  White  Russians  those  who  desire 
success  in  fishing  invoke  the  aid  of  Neptune. 
This  classical  name  was  no  doubt  introduced 
among  the  people  from  literary  sources,  such  as 
chap-books.  The  water-man  is  th  ought  to  resem  ble 
a  human  being.  Sometimes  he  is  represented  as  an 
old  man,  with  a  green  beard  and  with  green  cloth- 
ing, sometimes  as  a  mere  stripling.  But  he  may 
always  be  recognized  by  the  water  that  flows  from 
the  border  of  his  garments.  He  has  other  forms 
of  disguise  at  command,  however,  and  may  assume 
the  appearance  of  some  known  person,  or  of  an 
animal,  such  as  a  dog,  a  horse,  a  fish,  or  a  frog. 
We  hear  also  of  a  peculiar  class  of  water-spirits 
which  in  one  half  of  their  body  are  human,  while 
in  the  other  they  resemble  a  fish  or  aquatic  animal. 
Such  are  the  Little  Russian  Faraony  (the  warriors 
of  Pharaoh  who  were  drowned  in  the  Red  Sea), 
Boginky,  Memoziny,  Meljuziny ;  the  Slovenian 
Morske  deklice ;  and  the  Bulgarian  Stija.  The  last- 
named  are  remarkable  for  their  long  hair,  which 
they  sometimes  employ  to  choke  those  who  fall 
into  their  power. 

We  have  already  mentioned  that  the  middle  of 
the  day  ranks  in  popular  superstition  as  the  most 
congenial  time  for  the  demons.  In  point  of  fact, 
imagination  has  fabricated  a  special  figure  to  re- 
present midday — the  white-robed  'noon-wife,' 
who  walks  abroad  among  the  cornfields,  usually 
during  the  midday  interval  in  which  the  people 
snatch  a  little  repose.  The  Pshesponitsa  of  the 
Wends  and  the  Poludnitsa  of  the  Poles  take  care 
that  no  one  shall  be  in  the  fields  at  that  hour. 
They  try  to  puzzle  any  one  they  meet  with  difficult 
questions  and  riddles  ;  and,  if  he  cannot  answer 
them  satisfactorily,  they  kill  him,  or  infect  him 
with  disease.  The  '  noon-wife '  keeps  watch  over 
the  fields,  protects  the  crops,  especially  the  flax, 
against  thieves,  and  threatens  with  her  sickle 
children  who  pull  up  the  corn.  The  sickle  is  also 
the  symbol  of  another  noon-tide  fiend  among  the 
Wends,  the  Serp  or  SerpySyja,  who  kills  children 
with  it  when  they  steal  the  peas.  At  midday  the 
Bohemian  Polednice  fly  about  in  field  and  wood, 
and  come  into  the  neighbourhood  of  human  dwell- 
ings.    Their  flights  are  accompanied  by  wind  and 


630 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Teutonic) 


Btorm.  Their  practice  is  to  steal  little  children 
whose  mothers  have  negligently  left  them  by  them- 
selves. The  Russians  likewise  have  a  Poludnitsa, 
or  Zitna  matka,  the  protectress  of  the  cornfield, 
who,  especially  at  the  season  when  the  corn  begins 
to  shoot,  perambulates  the  balks.  She  also  molests 
children  whom  she  finds  idly  strolling  among  the 
fields,  and  in  Northern  Russia  parents  warn  their 
children  against  going  amongst  the  rye  lest  the 
Poludnitsa  burn  them.  In  Bohemia  the  Polednice 
is  supposed  to  be  the  spirit  of  the  midday  bell,  and 
to  live  in  the  belfry.  Of  a  somewhat  similar 
character  is  the  Moravian  Klekanitsa,  who  stalks 
around  after  the  evening  chimes,  and  entraps  the 
children  whom  she  finds  still  out  of  doors. 

In  many  parts  of  the  Slavic  world  we  find,  be- 
sides the  'noon-wife,'  a  male  'midday  spirit,'  who 
in  Bohemia  is  called  Polednicek,  and  among  the 
Wends  Serp,  while  there  is  also  a  special  field- 
spirit,  the  Russian  Polevoj.  The  Polednicek  is  a 
little  boy  in  a  white  shirt,  who  at  midday  passes 
from  the  forest  into  the  fields,  and  punishes  those 
whom  he  finds  doing  damage  there.  He  calls  to 
people  by  their  names,  and  those  who  follow  his 
call  he  leads  to  the  far-off  hills.  The  Polevoj  or 
Polevik,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  personification  of 
the  tilled  land,  and  his  body  is  therefore  black, 
like  earth,  while  his  hair  is  the  colour  of  grass. 
The  people  think  that  the  spirit  of  harvest,  who 
is  also  known  as  Ded,  resides  in  the  last  gathered 
sheaf,  which  is  accordingly  dressed  to  look  like  a 
doll,  and  is  borne  in  festive  procession  to  the  land- 
lord. 

We  come,  finally,  to  the  Nature-demons  whose 
sphere  of  action  is  the  air.  In  Bohemia  there  is  a 
special  spirit  of  the  wind,  Vetrnice  or  Meluzina, 
'  the  wind-mother,'  a  white,  barefooted  being. 
When  the  wind  roars,  the  people  say  that  the 
Vetrnice  is  sobbing,  and  to  comfort  her  they  throw 
bread  and  salt  into  the  air  for  her  food.  Her  voice 
is  believed  to  bear  prophetic  import.  In  Russia 
likewise  we  find  the  'wind-mother,'  and  also  the 
'  wind-father,'  while  the  Wends  speak  of  a  '  wind- 
king.'  The  wind  is  thought  to  proceed  from  the 
demon's  breathing  or  his  movements.  Then  there 
is  a  group  of  '  wind-brethren ' — sometimes  four, 
sometimes  twelve — who  dwell  at  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  and  who  are  constantly  blowing  against  one 
another.  With  these  wind-brethren  have  been 
confounded  the  four  angels  or  evangelists  borrowed 
from  the  sphere  of  Christian  ideas,  and  supposed 
to  live  in  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe.  In  Russia 
we  still  find  sporadically  the  belief  that  the  wind, 
and  especially  the  whirlwind,  emanates  from  evil 
spirits,  and  that  the  devil  is  the  chief  commander. 
In  the  tempest  and  whirlwind  it  is  believed  that 
Satan  himself  or  the  soul  of  a  witch  is  speeding 
along,  and,  if  a  knife  be  thrown  into  the  gust,  it 
will  inflict  a  wound  upon  the  hurrying  spirit. 
When  the  demon  is  pursued  by  the  thunderstorm, 
he  may  transform  himself  into  an  animal  or  a 
human  being.  An  idea  current  among  the  Wends 
is  that  the  whirlwind  is  really  an  invisible  spirit, 
who  may  be  seen,  however,  by  pulling  off  one's 
shirt  and  looking  through  the  sleeves.  In  certain 
Russian  incantations  the  whirlwind  is  spoken  of 
as  the  captain  of  the  winds,  who  are  personified  as 
evil  spirits,  and  he  is  styled  '  Whirlwind,  the  son 
of  Whirlwind.1  His  aid  is  implored  by  such  as 
seek  by  magical  means  to  arouse  a  responsive 
affection  in  the  breasts  of  those  they  love.  In 
Russia  even  frost  is  represented  by  a  spirit.  He  is 
depicted  as  a  grey-haired,  white-bearded  old  man, 
wearing  a  snow-covered  fur  and  shoes  of  ice.  At 
Christmas  he  receives  offerings  of  pottage,  and  is 
invited  to  partake  of  the  Christmas  fare,  in  the 
hope  that  he  will  not  expose  the  grain  to  damage 
by  frost. 


Our  discussion  would  remain  incomplete  with- 
out some  reference,  finally,  to  the  fact  that  in 
the  popular  mind,  more  particularly  in  Russia, 
certain  days  of  the  week  are  personified.  We  have 
already  had  under  consideration  an  analogous 
phenomenon,  viz.  the  development  of  the  '  Rosalia,' 
the  memorial  festival  for  the  dead,  into  the  personi- 
fied Busalka.  In  popular  poetry,  moreover,  we 
find  that  the  naive  imagination  has  invested  with 
human  attributes  certain  important  dates  in  the 
year,  such  as  Christmas  (Bizotvo  or  Koljada,  from 
Lat.  calendw)  and  Christmas  Eve  (Karatshun, 
Kratshun ;  cf.  Lat.  colatio) ;  in  Russia,  indeed, 
the  latter  term  has  for  some  reason  or  other  come 
to  signify  the  evil  spirit.  The  days  of  the  week 
similarly  personified  are  Friday  (Pjatnitsa,  which 
is  also  known  by  the  Greek  name  Paraskeva)  and 
Sunday  (St.  Nedelja).  With  dishevelled  hair,  and 
bodies  covered  with  sores,  these  two  spirits  are 
said  to  travel  from  village  to  village — a  fancy  which 
implies  that  women  who  perform  such  work  as 
sewing  or  spinning  on  Friday  or  Sunday  really 
wound  the  day  with  the  articles  they  use.  The 
spirits  punish  those  who  thus  injure  them,  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  those  who  observe  these 
days,  they  show  favour  by  helping  them  in  their 
household  duties,  promoting  the  growth  of  their 
flax,  enhancing  the  fertility  of  their  land,'  and,  as 
the  protectresses  of  women,  rendering  assistance 
to  married  people.  It  was  a  custom  among 
Bulgarian  women  not  so  very  long  ago  to  make 
offerings  of  bread  and  eggs  to  Friday.  It  only 
remains  to  be  said  that  the  ideas  relating  to  those 
female  personifications  of  days  have  been  greatly 
influenced  by  the  worship  of  the  Virgin  Mary  and 
other  patron  saints,  and  therefore  really  belong  to 
a  sphere  of  thought  which  lies  outside  the  belief 
in  spirits  and  demons  in  the  stricter  sense. 

Literature. — H.  Machal,  Ndkrcs  sl&vansMho  bdjeslovi, 
Prague,  1891 ;  A.  Afanasiev,  Poetiteskija  vozzrenija  Slavjan  na 
prirodu,  i.-iii.,  Moscow,  1865 ;  S.  Maksimov,  Neiistaja,  nevje- 
domajaikrestnajasila,  St.  Petersburg,  1903;  V.  J.  Macsikka, 
Predstaviteli  zlogo  nacala  v  ntsskich  zagovorach,  St.  Peters- 
burg, 1909.  V.  J.  Mansikka. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Teutonic).— The 
ancient  Teutons,  like  almost  all  other  primitive 
peoples,  believed  that  the  whole  surrounding  world 
of  Nature  was  alive  with  demons  and  spirits.  This 
belief  has  survived  from  one  of  the  primitive  stages 
of  religious  thought  till  the  present  time,  or  has  in 
the  course  of  ages  given  rise  to  new  phantoms  of 
the  human  mind.  The  operations  and  occurrences 
observed  in  the  natural  world  were  all  attributed 
to  these  imaginary  beings.  The  primitive  mind 
did  not  represent  such  existences  as  having  any 
definite  shape ;  it  was  only  in  a  later  phase  of 
reflexion  that  they  were  invested  now  with  animal, 
now  with  human,  forms.  Even  such  forms,  how- 
ever, were  not  the  purely  natural  ones  ;  the  spirits 
were  figured  sometimes  as  very  small,  sometimes 
as  enormously  large.  The  next  step  was  to  endow 
the  imaginary  beings  with  a  new  class  of  activities, 
borrowed  from  the  human  sphere,  and  in  this  way 
was  at  length  evolved  the  myth.  The  spirits  of 
wind,  water,  and  air  were  supposed  to  hold  sway 
in  Nature,  while  the  spirits  of  vegetation,  disease, 
and  fate  interfered  in  human  life.  They  were 
thought  of  at  first  as  existing  in  multitudes,  but 
in  course  of  time  single  spirits  were  disengaged 
from  the  mass.  With  the  rise  of  the  belief  in  the 
soul,  the  demons  were  sometimes  invested  with  a 
soul-like  nature ;  the  souls  of  the  dead  were  be- 
lieved to  survive  in  them.  This  explains  why  it  is 
difficult — often,  indeed,  impossible — to  distinguish 
between  spirits  and  beings  of  soul-like,  or  rather 
ghost-like,  nature.  Nowhere  has  the  action  of 
religious  syncretism  been  more  powerful  than  in 
the  fusion  of  the  belief  in  spirits  and  the  belief  in 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Teutonic) 


631 


souls.  Thus,  e.g.,  the  demons  of  the  wind  coalesced 
with  the  moving  host  of  souls,  and  the  worship 
once  accorded  to  the  latter  was  transferred  to 
the  former.  Hence  arises  our  uncertainty  as  to 
whether  Wodan-05in  was  originally  a  wind-demon 
or  a  leader  of  the  soul-host. 

While  demons  or  spirits  had  their  origin  in  the 
surrounding  world  and  the  phenomena  of  Nature, 
the  helief  in  the  soul  was  suggested  by  occurrences 
in  the  sphere  of  human  life.  Animism,  the  helief 
in  the  soul  as  a  separate  entity,  arose  out  of  the 
world  of  dreams,  while  Manism,  the  belief  in  the 
continued  existence  of  the  soul  and  the  worship  of 
thedead  based  thereon,  originated  in  the  phenomena 
of  death.  Ideas  regarding  the  dream-soul  are 
found  in  endless  variety  among  all  the  Teutonic 
tribes.  Thus,  the  soul,  equally  with  the  body, 
was  an  independent  entity,  and  might  leave  the 
bo4y  and  wander  about  in  the  interval  of  sleep. 
It  was  supposed  to  have  its  seat  in  various  parts  of 
the  body — the  blood,  the  heart,  the  kidneys,  the 
liver,  or  the  head  ;  but  it  might  also  reside  in  the 
breath  or  the  shadow ;  a  man  without  a  shadow 
had  sold  his  soul.  The  soul  could  readily  assume 
various  forms  ;  it  sometimes  appeared  as  an  animal 
(serpent,  weasel,  toad,  etc.),  sometimes  as  an  in- 
cubus (goblin,  mare,  troll)  or  other  noxious  being. 
In  this  way  arose  the  ideas  of  the  werwolf,  the 
fylgja  (see  below),  or  attendant  spirit,  and  the 
witch.  Among  the  Northern  Teutons  a  person 
who  allowed  his  soul  to  wander  was  called  a  ham- 
rammr,  '  one  who  can  change  his  shape.'  This 
vagrant  soul  sees  what  is  hidden  from  the  bodily 
eye  ;  it  can  look  into  both  the  past  and  the  future. 
It  was  this  belief  which  in  great  measure  gave  rise 
to  the  Teutonic  conception  of  prophecy.  When 
the  soul  was  out  of  the  body,  moreover,  it  was 
endowed  with  active  powers  of  abnormal  character  ; 
it  could  work  injury  or  bring  benefit  to  other  men, 
and  accordingly  the  powers  of  magic  were  trans- 
ferred to  it.  Persons  who  could  at  will  thus  cause 
their  souls  to  leave  their  bodies,  whether  in  sleep 
or  in  a  trance,  were  regarded  as  magicians. 

The  powers  of  the  dream-soul,  however,  were  as 
nothing  compared  with  those  ascribed  to  the  soul 
of  the  dead.  The  Teutons  thought  of  the  latter  as 
a  grasping,  maleficent  being,  which  returns  to  its 
place,  claims  its  former  possessions,  and  takes 
vengeance  upon  any  one  who  withholds  them.  It 
was  the  abject  fear  of  the  returning  soul  and  its 
evil  powers  that  prompted  the  numerous  duties 
which,  according  to  primitive  Teutonic  ideas,  the 
survivors  owed  to  the  dead  (see  artt.  ANCESTOR- 
WORSHIP  [Teut.]  and  Aryan  Religion).  These 
various  duties  arise  out  of  the  belief  that,  unless 
the  dead  are  treated  with  due  honour  and  respect, 
they  will  return  and  do  harm  to  the  living.  This 
superstition  was  once  universal,  and  is  not  yet 
finally  eradicated  from  the  mind  of  any  of  the 
Teutonic  peoples.  There  is  probably  no  district  in 
the  whole  Teutonic  area  where  the  people  are  en- 
tirely free  from  the  belief  in  ghosts  and  haunted 
places.  Persons  who  in  their  lifetime  were  regarded 
as  wizards,  or  who  had  died  an  unnatural  death, 
would,  it  was  believed,  come  back  for  the  express 
purpose  of  injuring  the  living.  When  such  injury 
showed  itself,  the  bodies  of  the  malevolent  beings 
were  exhumed  and  burned,  or  transfixed  through 
breast  and  heart  with  a  stake,  so  that  they  might 
be  held  fast  in  their  graves.  Throughout  the 
Middle  Ages  impalement  was  still  practised  as  an 
apotropseic  penalty  for  such  crimes  as  rape  or  the 
murder  of  a  relative  (cf .  Brunner,  Ztschr.  d.  Savigny- 
stiftung  fur  Rechtsgesch.  xxvi.  [1905]  258  ff.). 

The  souls  of  the  dead  had  their  times  of  moving 
abroad,  and  courses  by  which  they  fared.  It  was 
A  universal  belief  among  the  Teutons  that  wind 
and  storm  were  the  hurrying  host  of  the  dead. 


What  leaves  the  body  at  death  is  the  breath,  and 
the  breath  was  therefore  the  soul  or  spirit.  But 
wind — agitated  air — is  also  breath.  When  the 
breath  leaves  the  body,  it  unites  with  other  souls, 
and  joins  the  soul-host.  It  was  a  widely  diffused 
idea  that  a  wind  arose  when  any  one  was  hanged  ; 
the  spirits  were  coming  for  their  new  associate. 
The  departing  soul  goes  to  the  '  woden  her,  da  die 
bbsen  geister  ir  wonung  han.'  As  early  as  the 
time  of  Tacitus  {Germ.  43),  the  Harii,  with  their 
painted  bodies  and  black  shields,  used  to  imitate 
by  night  the  'raging  host.'  Belief  in  this  raging 
host— or,  as  it  was  variously  called,  the  wild  hunt, 
Holla's  troop,  Perchta's  host,  the  Norse  gandreid, 
'  the  spirits'  ride,'  Aasgaardsreia, ■'  Asgard's  chase,' 
or  Hulderfolk — is  not  even  yet  extinct.  In  certain 
places,  and  above  all  at  cross-roads  (q.v. ),  the  spirit- 
host  rouses  itself  to  special  activity,  and  at  certain 
seasons  it  manifests  itself.  The  principal  time  for 
this  manifestation  was  the  long  winter  night  in 
the  season  of  Epiphany,  as,  among  the  Teutons, 
the  festival  of  Christmas  had  taken  the  place  of 
the  ancient  heathen  festival  of  the  dead.  It  was 
believed  that  at  such  times  the  souls  of  the  dead 
took  part  in  the  celebration  and  feasting.  Special 
dishes  and  special  cakes  were  dedicated  to  the 
souls  of  those  who  had  died  in  the  foregoing  year. 
At  no  other  season  of  the  year  were  superstition 
and  popular  divination  so  rife.  All  manner  of 
figures  and  masquerades  were  resorted  to  in  per- 
sonating the  spirits.  This  was  the  feast  of  Yule 
(Goth,  jiuleis,  A.S.  giuli,  O.N.  jdl).  The  more 
vehement  the  rush  of  the  spirit-host  in  the  wind, 
the  more  bountiful  would  be  the  ensuing  year,  and 
accordingly  offerings  were  made  til  drs,  '  for  a 
good,  fruitful  year.'  As  regards  locality,  the 
spirit-host  manifested  itself  most  frequently  over 
battlefields.  The  slain  were  believed  to  con- 
tinue their  strife  in  the  air.  This  belief  finds 
expression  in  the  Hildensage,  according  to  which 
she  summons  the  fallen  Vikings  every  morning 
to  renewed  warfare  on  the  island  of  Hoy  in  the 
Orkneys  (Snorri  Sturluson,  Edda,  i.  434).  Popular 
belief  also  gave  the  spirit-host  a  leader — Wode  or 
Wodan,  a  word  which  is  a  collective  form  for  the 
'  raging  host '  (cf.  Eng.  wood,  Scot,  wud,  '  mad '). 
In  process  of  time  Wodan  was  deified,  and  in  some 
Teutonic  countries  came  to  be  regarded  as  the 
supreme  god. 

Among  the  Teutons  the  belief  in  the  soul  gave 
rise  to  a  great  variety  of  demonic  and  legendary 
beings.  From  the  superstition  that  the  soul  could 
leave  the  body  in  sleep  or  in  the  trance  arose  in 
particular  the  conception  of  incubi — souls  that 
went  forth  to  afflict  and  torment  others  in  their 
sleep.  The  natural  phenomenon  at  the  root  of 
this  idea  is  the  nightmare,  which  the  physiologist 
traces  to  a  congestion  of.  the  blood  during  sleep. 
The  imaginary  being  to  which  this  distressing  con- 
dition was  attributed  is  known  by  a  great  many 
different  names,  the  most  widely  diffused  of  which 
is  of  the  form  mare  (O.H.G.,  A.S.,  and  Scand. 
mara  ;  Germ.  Mahr  or  Mahre  ;  English  '  night- 
mare'). In  Central  Germany  the  term  Alp  has 
come  into  use  ;  in  Upper  Germany  we  find  Trude, 
Schrat,  Ratz,  Rdtzele,  Doggele ;  in  Western  Ger- 
many, Letzel,  Trempe ;  and  in  Oldenburg,  Wal- 
riderske — all  applied  to  the  nightmare,  and  fre- 
quently used  also  to  designate  the  witch.  The 
mcubi '  ride  upon  human  beings,'  and  may  actually 
torture  them  to  death.  In  the  Middle  Ages  per- 
sons who  were  suspected  of  injuring  their  fellow- 
men  in  this  way  were  frequently  prosecuted  at 
law.  Not  only  human  beings,  however,  but  also 
animals,  and  even  trees,  might  be  the  victims  of 
the  mare.  She  afflicted  people  by  squatting  on 
the  breast ;  she  sucked  the  milk  of  women  and 
cows ;  she  wreaked  such  malice  upon  horses  that 


632 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Teutonic) 


in  the  morning  they  were  found  bathed  in  sweat 
and  with  their  hair  all  awry.  She  found  her  way 
into  the  sleeper's  room  by  the  keyhole,  or  through 
a  crack,  and  these  were  also  her  only  possible 
means  of  exit.  If  the  sleeper  awoke  and  held  her 
in  his  grasp,  all  that  he  found  was  a  straw,  but,  if 
he  spoke  the  name  of  the  person  who  had  been  thus 
tormenting  him,  he  discovered  a  naked  woman. 

Among  those  who  could  cause  their  souls  to  pass 
out  of  their  bodies  and  injure  others  was  the  Rexe 
of  the  Western  Teutons  (A.S.  hceqtisse,  O.H.G. 
hagazussa=strio,  furia),  the  Scandinavian  trold, 
the  English  '  witch.'  These  terms,  however,  had 
a  wider  application,  and  denoted  also  those  who 
dealt  in  any  way  with  magic,  especially  of  a  male- 
ficent kind.  It  was  really  in  virtue  of  their  magical 
powers  that  the  Hexen  could  disengage  their  souls 
from  their  bodies,  and  they  were  therefore  also 
called  zc&nriten  (M.H.G),  tunri'Sur,  'hedge-riders,' 
or  kveldmyrkriSur  (O.N.),  '  night-riders.'  In  these 
excursions  they  could  assume  an  endless  variety  of 
form  :  they  might  take  shape  as  a  whale,  a  bear,  a 
raven,  or  a  toad.  Bad  weather,  thunder,  and  hail 
were  generally  attributed  to  them.  According  to 
the  Old  Icelandic  sources,  they  used  to  bring  them- 
selves into  the  ecstatic  condition  by  means  of  in- 
cantations, and  then  launch  forth  the  storm.  In 
later  mediaeval  times  they  were  frequently  brought 
to  trial  for  causing  bad  weather.  But  their  power 
of  working  injury  extended  to  many  other  things  ; 
they  induced  diseases,  and  especially  lunacy,  they 
killed  people,  they  filled  the  land  with  vermin,  and 
jaused  the  cows  to  give  red  milk,  or  none  at  all. 
The  belief  in  witchcraft  found  among  all  the  Teu- 
tonic peoples  was  reinforced  during  the  Middle 
Ages  by  the  Oriental  belief  in  the  devil.  The 
witch  was  now  supposed  to  be  in  league  with  the 
Evil  One ;  she  was  one  who  had  sold  her  soul  to 
him  and  received  the  gift  of  magic  in  exchange. 
Thus  arose  the  belief  in  the  witches  meetings  on  the 
so-called  Brockelsbergs,  where  the  hags  abandoned 
themselves  to  love-making  with  the  devil.  From 
this  again  sprang  the  discreditable  trials  for  witch- 
craft, which  lasted  till  the  18th  century.  It  was 
also  commonly  believed  that  witches  continued 
their  nefarious  practices  even  after  death,  and, 
when  indications  of  such  activity  appeared,  their 
bodies  were  exhumed  and  either  burned  or  im- 
paled. 

Closely  related  to  the  trolls  and  witches  were 
the  Norse  Vblves  (O.N.  vblur).  These  likewise 
were  sorceresses,  but  they  used  their  magical 
powers  as  a  means  of  intercourse  with  the  dead, 
and  in  order  to  acquire  knowledge  regarding  secret 
things  and  the  future.  To  their  peculiar  trade 
belonged  the  magic  wand,  the  magic  chair,  and  other 
accessaries  ;  while  they  had  a  retinue  of  boys  and 
girls  to  chant  their  magic  songs  and  so  induce  the 
trance  in  which  the  souls  of  the  Volves  left  their 
bodies.  These  human  Volves — the  '  wise  women ' 
of  other  Teutonic  peoples — were  held  in  great 
veneration  ;  in  the  winter  nights  of  the  season,  when 
the  spirit-host  swarms  around,  they  travelled  from 
steading  to  steading,  and  were  everywhere  received 
with  ceremony.  Women  thus  endowed  with  pro- 
phetic vision  were  supposed  to  exercise  their  powers 
even  after  death.  The  Eddas  often  tell  of  men  and 
gods  who  visited  the  grave  of  a  Vblva  for  the 
purpose  of  obtaining  knowledge  of  the  future. 
Thus  OSin,  for  instance,  rides  to  such  a  grave, 
awakes  the  Vblva  from  the  sleep  of  death,  and 
receives  from  her  the  interpretation  of  Balder's 
dreams  (Baldrsdraumar). 

A  male  counterpart  to  the  witch  is  the  werwolf, 
i.e.  man- wolf.  This  was  a  superstition  current 
among  all  the  Teutonic  peoples  (O.H.G.  werwolf, 
A.S.  werewolf,  O.N.  vargulfr  or  ulfhamr),  and  is 
found  far  beyond   the  limits  of  Teutonic  lands. 


The  werwolf  was  a  human  soul  which  roamed 
about  in  the  shape  of  a  wolf,  and  wreaked  horrible 
cruelties  upon  other  human  beings.  A  person  who 
chooses,  or  is  forced,  to  wander  about  in  wolf's 
form  has  the  power  of  falling  asleep  at  will.  Then 
he  passes  into  a  wolf's  skin,  which  he  fastens  with 
thick  coils  of  gold,  and  in  this  disguise  he  kills 
every  person  and  animal  he  meets.  According  to 
popular  belief,  in  which  the  werwolf  still  plays 
a  part,  the  creature  was  bullet-proof,  but,  when 
wounded  by  a  shot  or  a  severe  blow,  it  reverted  to 
human  form.  The  enchantment  could  be  dissolved 
also  by  pronouncing  the  name  of  the  person  who 
had  assumed  the  disguise,  or  by  throwing  a  piece 
of  steel  or  iron  over  the  creature.  A  supernatural 
being  of  similar  maleficent  powers  —  a  second 
counterpart  to  the  witch — was  the  Bilwis,  whose 
season  of  special  activity  was  Walpurgis  Night. 
This  was  a  creature  of  soul-like  character,  which 
flitted  through  the  fields,  and  wrought  havoc  to 
the  crops  with  the  sickle  upon  its  great  toe. 
When  the  people  found  their  corn  laid,  or  the  ears 
stripped,  they  blamed  the  Bilwis ;  such  work  was 
the  '  Bilwis-reaping.'  It  had  its  abode  in  trees — 
the  '  Bilwis-trees ' — at  which  gifts  of  children's 
clothing  were  offered  by  way  of  disposing  the 
Bilwis  to  protect  the  children  against  disease. 

Besides  the  souls  which  wander  forth  in  dreams 
and  trances,  however,  the  souls  of  the  dead  played 
a  great  part  in  Teutonic  folklore,  presenting  an 
endless  variety  of  form  and  action.  Among  the 
various  Teutonic  peoples  these  spirits  bear  dif- 
ferent names,  and  the  fear  of  the  returning  dead 
is  often  reflected  in  the  very  nomenclature.  Thus 
the  O.H.G.  gitrdc,  A.S.  gidrdg,  O.N.  draugr  are 
connected  with  the  root  *  dreugh,  '  to  hurt ' ;  other 
terms  for  such  haunting  spirits  are  Germ.  Gespenst 
(O.H.G.  spanan,  'entice,'  'deceive'),  Dan.  gen- 
ganger  (Icel.  apturgaungur,  '  one  who  walks 
again'),  Eng.  'ghost'  (A.S.  ghcestan,  'terrify'). 
This  belief  in  the  haunting  presence  of  the  dead 
survives  to-day  with  a  scarcely  abated  power  of 
legend-making,  and  in  modem  spiritualism  it 
would  seem  to  have  entered  on  a  new  lease  of  life. 
The  ideas  popularly  held  regarding  the  returning 
spirits  are  certainly  somewhat  vague.  The  ghost 
is  sometimes  thought  of  as  invisible,  and  able  to 
make  its  presence  known  only  by  voice  or  action  ; 
sometimes  it  is  supposed  to  appear  as  a  human 
being  or  an  animal  (e.g.  the  fiery  dog,  cat,  horse, 
serpent,  toad,  and  the  like).  In  some  districts  it 
was  considered  wrong  to  kill  certain  animals,  such 
as  toads  and  snakes,  since  they  were  the  living 
homes  of  hapless  souls.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
animals  thus  possessed  by  souls  might  work  injury 
to  human  beings,  and  this  belief  gave  occasion 
to  the  common  mediaeval  practice  of  subjecting 
animals  to  trial  and  punishment  (cf.  von  Anvira, 
Tierstrafen  u.  Tierprozesse,  Innsbruck,  1891).  The 
belief  that  the  departed  soul  might  survive  in  the 
body  of  an  animal  gave  rise  to  the  supposition  that 
certain  animals  had  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and,  as 
it  was  assumed  that  they  had  also  the  faculty  of 
speech,  it  was  possible  to  converse  with  them — 
above  all  with  birds — as  with  human  beings. 
Souls  might  also  survive  in  plants :  thus  the  oak 
which  sprang  from  the  mouth  of  a  king  slain  in 
battle,  and  the  rose  and  lily  which  grew  on  the 
grave  of  lovers,  were  really  the  abodes  of  the 
departed  souls.  The  belief  that  the  dead  pass  into 
trees  was  very  common  ;  the  guardian  tree  and  the 
tree  of  life  associated  with  individuals  or  families 
were  the  abodes  of  tutelary  or  ancestral  spirits, 
and  were  thus  often  made  the  recipients  of  gifts 
and  offerings,  while  the  act  of  damaging  trees  was 
a  crime  demanding  the  severest  penalties. 

The  belief  in  the  soul  gave  birth  to  a  large  num- 
ber of  fabulous  beings.    One  of  these  was  the  Norse 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Teutonic) 


633 


fylgja  ('following  spirit '),  which  attended  a  person 
either  as  his  soul  or  as  his  guardian  spirit.  As  a  soul, 
it  took  the  form  of  an  animal ;  while,  as  a  tutelary 
spirit,  it  was  a  female  being  who  appeared,  especi- 
ally in  dreams,  to  its  protege,  and  warned  him  of 
danger  or  urged  him  to  action.  The  fylgjas  some- 
times come  singly,  sometimes  in  troops.  After  a 
person's  death  his  attendant  spirit  passes  to  his 
heirs,  and  in  this  way  occasionally  becomes  a 
family -fylgja.  The  Norse  valkyrs  differ  so  far 
from  the  fylgjas  in  that  they  are  almost  always 
found  in  groups,  and  especially  in  groups  of  nine. 
The  battle-maidens  of  the  ancient  folklore,  fre- 
quently mentioned  both  in  the  southern  and  in 
the  northern  sources  (cf.  Dio  Cass.  lxxi.  3 ;  Flav. 
Vopiscus,  Vita  Aurelii,  37 ;  Paulus  Diaconus,  i. 
15;  Saxo  Gramm.  i.  333  ff.,  361,  etc.)  become  val- 
kyrs (A.S.  vazlcyrza,  O.N.  valkyrja)  after  their 
death.  They  are  armed  with  helmet,  shield,  and 
lance ;  they  ride  through  air  and  sea  ;  the  manes 
of  their  horses  shed  dew  and  hail  upon  the  earth. 
Their  appearance  presages  war  and  bloodshed. 
In  Norse  poetry  they  are  closely  associated  with 
05in  ;  they  are  his  maids,  his  '  wish-maidens  '  who 
carry  out  his  commands,  who  strike  down  in  battle 
the  heroes  destined  for  Valholl,  and  bear  them 
thither,  where  at  the  banquets  they  foretaste  the 
mead  for  the  einherjar.  The  group  of  wish- 
maidens  also  included  Brynhildr-Sigrdrifa,  who 
disobeyed  the  commands  of  her  lord  by  giving  the 
victory  to  another  king,  and  was  in  consequence 

Eierced  with  the  '  thorn  of  sleep '  and  surrounded 
y  a  flame  until  such  time  as  SigurSr  should  awake 
her  and  set  her  free.  It  is  a  moot  point  whether 
the  Norns,  the  '  Fates '  of  Norse  mythology,  who 
have  many  features  in  common  with  the  valkyrs, 
should  be  regarded  as  souls  or  as  demons.  A 
similar  ambiguity  attaches  to  the  elves,  who  are 
sometimes  represented  as  souls,  sometimes  as 
purely  demonic  beings.  Both  the  name  and  the 
idea  of  these  products  of  religious  phantasy  are 
common  to  all  the  Teutonic  race  ;  O.H.G.  der  alp 
(pi.  elbe),  or  das  alp,  also  diu  elbe,  A.S.  celf  (pi. 
ylfe),  O.N.  dlfr  (pi.  dlfar)  are  applied  to  both  male 
and  female  beings  living  in  the  earth,  the  air,  the 
sea,  the  hills,  etc.  They  are  often  associated  with 
the  Asir  (cesir  ok  dlfar  is  a  favourite  Norse  expres- 
sion, and  Anglo-Saxon  has  a  cognate  phrase),  and, 
like  the  latter,  embrace  the  entire  multitude  of 
soul-like  powers  at  work  in  Nature.  In  later,  and 
especially  English,  forms  of  superstition,  the  elves 
possess  a  Proteus-like  character,  and  show  a  pre- 
ference for  animal  shapes.  They  are  sometimes 
regarded  as  helpful  to  man,  but  sometimes  also  as 
capable  of  injuring  him,  and  accordingly  both  good 
and  bad  elves  are  recognized  among  the  Northern 
Teutons.  Snorri  Sturluson  (Edda,  i.  18)  classifies 
them  according  to  their  domiciles  as  '  elves  of 
light,'  who  are  whiter  than  the  sunbeam  and  live 
in  the  air,  and  '  elves  of  darkness,'  who  dwell  in 
the  earth,  and  are  blacker  than  pitch.  From  the 
elves  of  light  the  sun  takes  his  name  of  dlfrofiidl, 
'elf-ray.'  Their  head  is  the  sun-god  Freyr,  whose 
abode  is  Alfheim,  'the  realm  of  the  elves.'  The 
'  elves  of  darkness'  are  sometimes  all  but  identified 
with  the  dwarfs,  and  this  explains  why  the  deft- 
handed  smith  Vblundr  (Wieland)  is  called  'lord 
of  the  elves.'  In  M.H.G.  poetry  the  king  of  the 
elves  is  Alberich,  who  found  his  way  to  the  "West 
Franks  as  Oberon.  In  England,  owing  to  the  in- 
fluences of  the  Irish  belief  in  fairies,  superstition 
dwelt  mainly  on  the  bright  and  beautiful  elves, 
who  thus  became  objects  of  popular  favour.  A 
similar  development  took  place  in  Scandinavia, 
where,  especially  in  Sweden,  the  elves  were  thought 
of  as  comely  maidens,  who  live  in  hills  and  moun- 
tains, hold  their  dances  on  the  green  sward,  and 
by  their  ravishing   songs  draw   the  traveller  to 


destruction.  Further,  the  elves  are  sometimes 
incubi ;  and  thus  the  Germ,  word  Alp  has  been 
used  only  in  this  sense  from  the  16th  century. 
The  Elf  en  of  German  poetry  are  really  of  English 
origin,  having  been  introduced  into  Germany  to- 
wards the  end  of  the  18th  century  by  the  transla- 
tion of  Shakespeare. 

The  elves  of  ancient  times  are  often  identical 
with  the  wights  (Goth,  vaihts,  fern.,  O.N.  vosttr, 
fern.,  O.H.G.  wiht,  neut.).  The  conception  of  the 
wight  likewise  developed  on  various  lines  according 
to  locality.  In  Old  N  orse  superstition  wights  were 
tutelary  spirits  who  had  their  abode  in  groves,  hills, 
and  waterfalls,  and  were  able  to  dispense  for- 
tune or  misfortune  to  human  beings.  In  German 
folklore  they  were  vivacious  spirit-like  creatures 
who  assisted  men  in  their  work,  and  demanded 
gifts  in  return.  To  the  same  class  of  soul-like, 
or  demonic,  beings  must  be  assigned  the  dwarfs 
(O.H.G.  twerg,  A.S.  dveorh,  O.N.  dvergr).  Their 
abode,  however,  was  confined  to  a  particular  place, 
and  their  field  of  activity  was  similarly  circum- 
scribed. Popular  imagination  depicted  them  as 
diminutive  old  men — sometimes  deformed — with 
large  heads  and  long  white  beards.  They  lived  in 
mountains  or  under  the  earth,  and  were  thus 
known  as  the  '  Unterirdisehe,'  'hill-folk,'  'earth- 
dwellers.'  They  shunned  the  light  of  day,  for  the 
sun's  rays  would  transform  them  to  stone.  Among 
their  possessions  is  the  tarn-cap  or  magic  hood 
which  enables  them  to  become  invisible  at  will, 
and  endows  them  with  supernatural  powers. 
Their  principal  occupation  is  smith's  work ;  their 
forge  is  situated  within  the  hills,  and  accordingly 
dwarf-legend  flourishes  most  profusely  where  there 
are  ore-bearing  mountains,  and  where  mining  is 
carried  on.  In  the  Norse  poetical  literature  all 
weapons  of  a  superior  kind,  especially  swords,  are  the 
handiwork  of  dwarfs.  But  Thor's  hammer,  Frey's 
ship  Skibbla'Snir,  Odin's  ring  Draupnir,  Sif 's  golden 
hair,  Freyja's  necklace  Brisingamen,  and  other 
articles  of  ornament  are  also  products  of  their  skill. 
Such  arts,  however,  are  not  their  only  character- 
istic ;  they  are  distinguished  also  for  craft  and 
cunning.  They  are  often  thought  of  as  united  in  a 
realm  of  their  own,  with  a  dwarf-king  (Laurin, 
Heiling,  Alberich)  at  their  head.  As  lords  of  the 
mountains  they  are  possessed  of  immense  treasures, 
from  which  they  draw  to  reward  such  persons  as 
pledge  themselves  to  their  service.  See,  further, 
art.  Fairies. 

An  elfish  origin  is  to  be  assigned  to  the  household 
spirits,  who  protect  the  home,  and  bring  it  good 
fortune  and  wealth.  They  were  frequently  re- 
garded as  having  an  animal  form,  especially  that 
of  a  serpent  or  a  toad,  and  they  lived  under  the 
threshold,  in  the  roof-beams,  or  on  the  hearth,  at 
which  places  it  was  usual  to  present  offerings  of 
milk  or  other  food  in  a  dish.  The  household  spirit 
is  also  met  with  as  a  mannikin  with  the  figure  of 
a  dwarf,  and  in  this  form  is  known  under  many 
different  names:  thus  the  A.S.  cofgodar,  'house- 
gods,'  survive  as  Kobolds,  or  goblins  ;  the  Germans 
have  also  the  Butze,  the  Hutchen,  while  in  England 
we  have  Puck  (Scot.  '  brownie,'),  and  in  Scandi- 
navia the  Gardsvor  ('house-guardian'),  Tomte 
('house-spirit'),  and  Nisse.  In  many  places  it  is 
still  believed  that  these  household  spirits  are  the 
souls  of  deceased  ancestors  or  other  relatives. 

Superstition  assigned  a  guardian  spirit  not  only 
to  the  house,  but  to  the  ship,  in  which  he  was 
known  as  the  Klabautermann  (Germ.).  He  dwelt 
in  the  mast,  and  the  sailors  believed  that  he  was  a 
child's  spirit  which  had  come  into  the  vessel  in  the 
felled  tree  of  which  the  mast  was  made.  The 
Klabautermann  warned  the  sailors  by  certain 
noises  of  any  imminent  danger,  assisted  them  in 
their  work,  and,  like  the  domestic  spirit,  received 


634 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Teutonic) 


payment  for  his  services  in  the  form  of  gifts.  If 
the  ship  went  down,  he  flew  away,  but  first  bade 
farewell  to  the  steersman.  Miners  likewise  had 
their  guardian  spirit,  the  Schachtmandl  ('shaft- 
mannie '),  who  assisted  them  in  the  workings,  and 
showed  them  where  the  good  ore  was  to  be  found. 
Another  form  of  superstition  current  among  all 
the  Teutonic  peoples  was  the  belief  in  the  demonic 
beings  which  live  in  rivers,  brooks,  and  wells,  in 
forests,  in  the  waving  cornfields,  in  the  moving 
air,  and  within  and  upon  the  mountains,  and  which 
in  many  cases  are  hardly  distinguishable  from  the 
ghostly  creatures  already  dealt  with.  Imagination 
represented  them  as  of  human  or  superhuman 
dimensions,  and  as  of  human  or  animal  form,  accord- 
ing to  the  magnitude  of  the  natural  facts  associated 
with  them.  At  an  early  period,  however,  popular 
imagination  had  detached  these  spirits  from  their 
original  habitat,  and,  as  in  the  case  of  the  dwarfs, 
had  invested  them  with  all  manner  of  fabulous 
features  and  incidents,  so  that  the  natural  facts 
which  suggested  them  cannot  always  be  identi- 
fied in  detail,  and  only  the  general  form  remains. 
This  is  specially  true  of  the  giants,  who,  like  the 
dwarfs,  were  favourite  subjects  of  popular  poetry. 
But,  while  the  dwarfs  were  personifications  of  the 
bountiful  powers  of  Nature,  and  are  therefore 
thought  of  as  well-disposed  towards  mankind,  the 
giants  represent  Nature  in  her  hostile  aspects,  and 
thus  came  to  be  regarded  as  the  destroyers  and 
devourers  of  men.  That  nearly  all  the  more  im- 
pressive phenomena  of  Nature  were  personified  as 
colossal  beings  of  this  kind,  is  shown  by  the  Norse 
genealogy  of  the  giants  (Fornaldarsbgur  ii.  3ff.). 
To  the  family  of  Fornjdt  ('the  old  giant')  belong 
the  following,  as  his  children  or  children's  children  : 
Hlir,  the  boisterous  sea  ;  Logi,  the  wild-fire ;  Kari, 
the  tempest ;  Jbkull,  the  glacier ;  Frosti,  cold ; 
Sneer,  snow ;  Drifa,  the  snow-drift,  and  other 
effects  of  a  severe  winter.  Similar  gigantic  beings 
were  with  special  frequency  suggested  by  moun- 
tains. Almost  every  mountain  peak  and  range 
was  a  petrified  giant  or  a  seat  of  giants  :  e.g. 
Pilatus  in  Switzerland  ;  Watzmann  in  the  Bavarian 
highlands ;  Hiitt,  the  queen  of  the  giants,  in  the 
Tyrol,  etc.  The  Norwegian  Jbtenfjeld,  'giant- 
range,'  was  the  home  of  the  giants.  Hence  the 
fiant  was  called  bergbtii  ('mountain-dweller'),  or 
ergjarl  ('lord  of  the  mountain  '),  and,  in  fact,  the 
Germ.  Riese  had  originally  the  same  meaning 
(O.H.G.  riso,  A.S.  wrisil,  O.N.  risi,  all  cognate  with 
Gr.  filov,  '  peak ').  The  strength  of  these  mountain- 
giants  is  expressed  in  the  O.H.G.  duris,  A.S.  Syrs, 
O.N.  Ipurs  (Skr.  turas,  '  strong,'  '  powerful') ;  their 
size  in  the  O.H.G.  Siine  (Celt,  kunos,  'high ') ;  their 
rapacity  in  the  O.H.G.  etan,  A.S.  eotan,  O.N. 
jgtunn,  '  the  devourer.'  See,  further,  art.  GIANTS. 
Certain  other  classes  of  demons,  however,  differ 
from  those  just  referred  to  in  that  they  are  never 
dissociated  from  their  original  haunts.  Among 
these  are  the  forest-spirits,  who  are  connected 
with  the  yearly  renewal  and  decay  of  Nature,  and 
thus,  like  the  field-spirits  (see  below),  become 
spirits  of  vegetation.  These  demons  remain  quies- 
cent in  the  woods  during  winter,  but  awake  to 
activity  with  the  re-birth  of  Nature.  In  the 
spring  the  people  used  to  carry  home  young  trees 
and  green  shoots,  in  which  the  demons  were  sup- 
posed to  live,  and  plant  them  near  their  houses,  as 
it  was  believed  that  persons  who  came  into  contact 
with  the  branches  absorbed  the  fresh  energies  of 
the  re-awakened  spirits.  But  the  forest  was  like- 
wise the  abode  of  supernatural  beings  of  a  more 
independent  type,  and  principally  female  in  form — 
the  '  f eminae  agrestes,  quas  silvaticas  vocant ' 
(Burchard  of  Worms,  Decreta,  Cologne,  1548,  p. 
198b),  who  appear  suddenly,  yield  themselves  to 
their  lovers,  and  then  as  suddenly  vanish.     These 


are  the  'wild  maidens,'  the  German  Moos-,  Holz-, 
and  Buschweiber,  the  Fangen  and  Saligen,  the 
Swedish  skogsfruar  (wood-nymphs),  and  the  Danish 
askefruer  (ash-nymphs)  of  present-day  superstition. 
Their  bodies  are  usually  covered  with  hair,  their 
faces  wrinkled  ;  they  have  hanging  breasts  and 
dishevelled  hair,  and  are  often  clad  with  moss.  It 
is  a  common  notion  that  they  are  chased  by  the 
storm-giant,  the  Wild  Hunter,  Wode,  or  the  giant 
Fasolt,  and  that  they  seek  refuge  among  men, 
liberally  rewarding  those  who  succour  them. 
These  wood-nymphs  are  also  endowed  with  occult 
powers,  especially  the  power  of  curing  disease — a 
belief  originally  suggested  by  the  medicinal  pro- 
perties of  plants  found  in  the  woods.  The  forest- 
spirits,  however,  are  sometimes  males,  mostly  of 
gigantic  size,  and  always  of  the  same  hideous 
appearance  as  the  females. 

There  are  many  points  of  resemblance  between 
the  forest-spirits  and  the  field-spirits.  The  latter 
likewise  were  originally  spirits  of  vegetation, 
which  popular  imagination  first  of  all  detached 
from  their  native  sphere,  and  then  elaborated  in 
detail.  Field-spirits  grow  with  the  stalks  of  grain, 
and  become  visible  when  the  wind  blows  across  the 
cornfields.  The  long  ridges  or  '  backs '  of  the  tilled 
land  suggested  the  animal  shape  ascribed  to  these 
spirits.  They  are  known  by  many  different  names, 
as  e.g.  in  Germany,  Kornwolf,  Roggenhund  ('  rye- 
dog'),  Haferbock  ('oat-goat'),  Rockensau  ('  rye- 
sow'),  Bullkater  ('tom-cat'),  in  Sweden,  Gloso 
('glow-sow'),  in  Norway,  Rerregudsbuk  ('the 
Lord's  goat'),  etc.  Sometimes,  again,  the  field- 
spirits  were  of  a  human  type ;  hence  the  Korn- 
mutter  ('corn-mother'),  the  Rockenmuhme  ('rye- 
aunt'),  the  Roggenalte  (especially  in  Denmark), 
and,  in  male  form,  the  Alte  ('  old  one  '),  or  the  Ger- 
stenalte  ('  barley-gaffer ').  The  '  grass-demon '  lived 
in  meadows,  the  '  clover-mannikin '  in  clover-fields. 
When  the  corn  was  cut,  the  spirit  flitted  from 
one  swathe  to  another.  The  person  who  cut  or 
bound  the  last  sheaf  caught  the  '  old  one,'  the 
'  corn-mother,'  etc.  That  sheaf  was  formed  into 
some  kind  of  figure,  and  presented  with  due  cere- 
mony to  the  landlord ;  then  a  dance  was  held 
around  it.  The  ears  of  the  last  sheaf  were  care- 
fully stored  in  the  barn  until  the  next  seed-time,  and 
then  used  for  the  purpose  of  stimulating  the  spirit 
of  vegetation  to  renewed  activity.  But  that  could 
be  secured  only  by  killing  the  old  spirit,  and  this 
was  done  by  binding  up  a  cock  with  the  last  sheaf, 
and  then  letting  it  loose  and  chasing  it  through 
the  fields,  till  at  last  it  was  overtaken  and  killed. 
As  the  spirit  of  vegetation  was  believed  to  be  in 
the  people  who  happened  to  pass  by  while  this 
ceremony  was  being  performed,  they  were  seized 
and  bound  by  the  reapers,  and  had  to  buy  them- 
selves off  with  a  gift. 

A  still  greater  fertility  of  invention  is  exhibited 
by  the  Teutonic  belief  in  water-spirits.  Almost 
every  body  of  water — spring  and  river,  pond  and 
lake,  marsh  and  cascade — was  imagined  to  be  the 
abode  of  a  spirit.  These  spirits  varied  in  size  as 
dwarfs,  men,  or  giants,  according  to  the  extent  of 
the  masses  of  water  with  which  they  were  as- 
sociated, while  fancy  lent  them  sometimes  human, 
and  sometimes  animal,  shapes.  Here  and  there 
they  were  supposed  to  be  the  souls  of  the  dead. 
Departed  souls  were  associated  very  specially  with 
fountains  and  wells,  which  accordingly  were  re- 
garded as  resorts  of  the  leaders  of  the  soul-hosts, 
such  as  Frau  Holle  and  the  Wild  Hunter ;  hence, 
too,  the  widely  prevalent  belief  that  the  souls  of 
the  newly-born  came  from  such  places.  On  similar 
grounds  arose  in  primitive  times  the  custom  of 
treating  fountains  and  wells  as  places  of  divination. 
The  spirits  who  haunted  such  places  were  marked 
out  from  others  by  their  prophetic  gift  and  their 


DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Tibetan) 


636 


supernatural  wisdom.  One  of  the  water-spirits 
thus  endowed  was  the  Norse  Mimvr,  into  whose 
waters  03in  had  put  his  eye  in  pledge  in  order  to 
gain  wisdom,  and  to  whose  Knowledge  he  resorted 
when  he  desired  light  upon  the  future.  The 
demons  who  resided  in  rivers,  streams,  and  seas 
were  in  the  main  hostile  to  mankind ;  they  tried 
to  seize  men  and  drag  them  down  into  the  watery 
kingdom,  and  were  therefore  propitiated  with 
offerings,  frequently,  indeed,  with  human  sacri- 
fices. Such  hostile  spirits  are  known  to  the 
various  Teutonic  peoples  by  variants  of  the  name 
nix  (Germ.  Nix  [masc]  or  Nixe  [fem.],  Eng.  nick, 
also  nixie,  Norw.  nokk,  Swed.  nmkk).  The  nix 
was  fish-like  in  the  lower  half  ;  the  upper  part,  or 
sometimes  the  head  only,  was  of  human  shape. 
He  wore  a  green  garb,  and  his  teeth  were  also 
green.  He  lived  with  his  family  at  the  bottom  of 
rivers  and  lakes.  The  female  nixies  were  noted 
for  the  beautiful  singing  by  which  they  allured 
human  beings  into  their  toils.  They  sometimes 
intermarried  with  mankind.  The  male  nix  was 
occasionally  armed  with  a  hook,  with  which  he 
dragged  people  under  the  water ;  he  was  accord- 
ingly also  called  Hakenmann  ('hook-man').  In 
Denmark  the  water-spirit  is  known  as  Havmand 
('sea-man,' cf.  'merman,' 'mermaid') ;  in  Sweden 
as  Stromkarl  ('river-man') ;  in  Norway,  the  land 
of  waterfalls,  we  find  the  Grim,  or  Fossegrim,  as  the 
spirit  of  waterfalls ;  in  Iceland,  the  Skrimsl 
('monster'),  Vatnskratti  ('water-wraith'),  and 
Margygr  ('sea-monster'). 

The  Old  Norse  mythology  gave  great  prominence  to  the  water- 
demons  2£.g\r  and  his  wife  Ran.  jEgir,  whose  name  is  connected 
with  Goth,  ahva,  'water'  and  Gr.  tutceavos,  was  the  spirit  of  the 
calm  still  sea— one  with  whom  the  gods  were  on  hospitable 
terms.  His  consort  Ran — or  Sjbran,  as  she  is  still  designated 
in  Swedish  folklore — was  of  an  entirely  different  nature.  She 
was  the  man-stealing  demon  of  the  sea,  a  hag  who  had  no  heart 
in  her  body,  and  who  la>  in  wait  for  sailors  with  her  net,  or 
tried  to  grasp_  the  ship  with  her  arms,  and  drag  it  down  to  the 
depths.  Of  similar  character  were  her  nine  daughters — personi- 
fications of  the  surging  billows — who  during  the  storm  offered 
their  embraces  to  the  seamen,  and,  like  their  mother,  pursued 
the  ship.  The  Miftgar^-serpent  —  the  snake-shaped  monster 
which  coils  itself  round  the  earth — and  the  Fenris-wolf,  which 
contends  with  Offin  at  the  annihilation  of  the  world,  as  also 
Grendel  and  bis  mother,  who  lived  in  swamps  by  the  sea, 
and  at  night  stole  men  from  the  palace  of  the  Danish  king, 
Hroftgar,  are  also  frequently  included  among  the  sea-demons. 

Throughout  the  entire  Teutonic  race,  as  we  have 
seen,  there  prevailed  the  belief  that  all  the  natural 
elements  were  ruled  by  spirits,  and  that  the  good 
and  evil  fortunes  of  human  life  proceeded  from 
soul-like,  or  spirit-like,  beings,  friendly  or  hostile 
to  man.  Demons  and  spirits  caused  rain,  tempest, 
and  thunderstorm.  Demons  pursued  the  sun  and 
the  moon,  and  brought  about  solar  and  lunar 
eclipses.  They  promoted  or  hindered  the  growth 
of  vegetation.  Disease  and  pestilence  were  their 
evil  work.  They  hovered  around  human  beings 
on  all  the  important  occasions  of  life :  at  birth, 
when  they  sought  to  gain  possession  of  the  child  ; 
at  marriage,  when  they  were  specially  active 
in  mischief-making  ;•  and  at  death,  when  they 
endeavoured  to  draw  the  living  after  the  dead. 
Savage  man  sought  to  guard  himself  against  their 
machinations  by  all  manner  of  ritual  devices, 
which  have  left  their  traces  in  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  present  day.  He  shot  at  them,  he 
lit  fires,  he  hung  up  glittering  objects,  he  un- 
covered certain  parts  of  the  body,  he  avoided 
stepping  on  the  threshold  under  which  they  lived, 
and  performed  endless  other  actions  for  the  purpose 
of  protecting  himself  or  driving  them  away.  The 
ideas  underlying  such  practices,  thus  brought  down 
by  the  Teutons  from  the  earliest  ages,  are  found  to 
correspond  with  ideas  which  prevail  among  the 
primitive  races  of  the  present  day. 

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Valkyrien-mythus,'  in  Abh.  d.  bayr.  Akad.  d.  Wits.  xxviii2. 
(1SS1)  401  ff. ;  the  brothers  Grimm,  Irische  ElJ'enmdrchen, 
Leipzig,  1S26  ;  Lutjens,  Der  Zwerg  in  d.  deutschen  Helden- 
dichtung  d.  Mittelalters,  Breslau,  1911 ;  von  Schroeder,  '  Ger- 
manische Elben  u.  Gdtter  beim  Estenvolke,'  in  SWAW  cliii. 
(1906) ;  Weinhold,  *  Die  Riesen  d.  germanischen  Mythus,'  in 
SWAW  xxvi.  (1S58);  Mannhardt,  Wald-  u.  Feldkulte,  2  vols., 
Berlin,  1875-77,  also  Mythol.  Forschungen,  Strassburg,  1884 ; 
Frazer,  GB  2,  London,  1900,  ii.  168  ff.  etc. ;  Weinhold,  '  Die 
Verehrung  d.  Quellen  in  Deutschland,'  in  ABAW,  1898;  E. 
Samter,  Geburt,  Hochzeit  u.  Tod :  Fin  Beitrag  z.  ver- 
gleichenden  Volkskunde,  Leipzig,  1911 ;  J.  Grimm,  Deutsche 
Mythologie  4,  3  vols.,  Berlin,  1S76  (Eng.  tr.,  Teutonic  Mythology, 
London,  1880-8) ;  E.  Mogrk,  German.  Mythologie,  Strassburg, 
1898  OPaul's  Grundriss  d.  germ.  Phuol.  ii.  294  ff.);  E.  H. 
Meyer,  Mythol.  d.  Germanen,  Strassburg,  1903,  p.  6Sff.,  and 
Germ.  Mythologie,  Berlin,  1891 ;  P.  D.  Chantepie  de  la 
Saussaye,  Religion  of  the  Teutons,  Boston,  1902. 

E.  MOGK. 

DEMONS  AND  SPIRITS  (Tibetan).— The 
Tibetan  lives  in  an  atmosphere  charged  with 
malignant  demons  and  spirits ;  and  the  great 
practical  attraction  of  Buddhism  for  him  is  that 
it  can  protect  him,  so  he  is  led  to  believe,  against 
most  of  these  supernatural  enemies.  Yet  it 
should  be  remembered  that  in  the  higher  Hindu 
civilization  of  India  the  ostensible  object  of  the 
Brahmanical  sacrifice  was  also  to  chain  the 
demons. 

The  great  majority  of  the  Tibetan  demons  are 
of  a  non-Buddhist  character.  A  considerable  pro- 
portion of  the  aboriginal  evil  spirits  have  been 
adjusted  by  the  Lamas  to  the  type  of  somewhat 
analogous  bloodthirsty  demons  in  the  later  Tantrik 
Buddhism  of  India,  and  these  are  to  be  coerced  or 
propitiated  on  the  lines  of  the  Indian  ritual.  But 
the  larger  number  demand  the  rites  of  the  pre- 
Buddhist  religion  to  which  they  belong,  namely, 
the  Bon  (see  Tibet).  These  spirits  are  mainly 
personified  natural  forces  and  malignant  ghosts, 
but  several  are  animistic  and  fetishes,  and  all  are 
saturated  with  sacrificial  ideas. 

The  word  for  '  spirit,'  namely  lha,  is  that  which 
is  adopted  for  the  gods  of  the  Brahmanical  and 
Indian  Buddhist  pantheon.  It  is  applied  generally 
to  those  aboriginal  gods  who  are  supposed  to  live 
in  the  sky,  even  though  they  be  unfriendly  to 
man.  The  demons,  or  rDud  (pronounced  diet), 
are  always  evil  genii  or  fiends  of  an  actively 
malignant  type  ;  Mara  is  considered  one  of  them. 
These  indigenous  spirits  may  be  broadly  divided 
into  the  following  eight  classes  : — 


636 


DENES 


(1)  Good  spirits  (Lha),  mostly  male,  white  in  colour,  and 
generally  genial,  though  the  war-god  (sGra-lha)  is  as  6erce  and 
powerful  as  the  greatest  fiend.  The  countryside  gods  ( Yul-lha) 
and  the  fairy  guardians  (Srung-ina) have  been  made  defenders  of 
Lamaism.  (2)  Ghosts  and  goblins  (Tsan),  all  male,  red  in  colour. 
These  are  usually  the  vindictive  ghosts  of  discontented  disem- 
bodied priests.  They  especially  haunt  the  vicinity  of  temples. 
(3)  Devils  (bDud),  mostly  male,  black  in  colour,  and  very  malig- 
nant. The  most  malignant  of  all  are  'Dre  (or  Lha-'dre),  male 
and  female,  or  literally  '  father '  and '  mother.'  They  are  persecu. 
tors  of  Lamaism,  and  cannot  be  properly  appeased  without  the 
sacrifice  of  a  pig.  (4)  Planet  fiends  igDon),  piebald  in  colour ; 
producing  diseases.  Fifteen  great  ones  are  recognized.  (5) 
Bloated  fiends  (dMu),  dark  purple  in  colour.  (6)  Ghouls  and 
vampires  (Srin-po),  raw-flesh-coloured  and  bloodthirsty.  (7) 
King-fiends  (rGyal-po),  the  '  treasure-masters '  (dKor-bdag), 
usually  white  in  colour,  the  spirits  of  apotheosized  heroes. 
(8)  '  Mother '  furies  (M a-mo),  black-coloured  she-devils.  They 
are  the  disease-mistresses  (nad-bdag),  and  are  sometimes  the 
spouses  of  certain  of  the  above  demons.  The  twelve  bStan-ma 
(pronounced  Tdnma)  especially  inhabit  the  snowy  ranges. 

Many  of  the  above  are  local  genii,  fixed  to  parti- 
cular localities.  Of  these  the  most  numerous  are 
the  'earth-owners'  (Sa-bdag),  truly  local  spirits 
inhabiting  the  soil,  springs,  and  lakes,  like  the 
nagas  of  the  Hindus.  Others  more  malignant, 
called  gSan,  and  believed  to  cause  pestilential 
disease,  infest  certain  trees,  rocks,  and  springs, 
which  are  avoided  in  consequence  or  made  into 
shrines  for  propitiatory  offerings.  They  are  be- 
lieved by  the  present  writer  to  represent  the  spirit 
of  the  gigantic  wild  sheep,  the  gNan  or  Ovis  am- 
mou,  which,  according  to  early  Chinese  accounts, 
was  worshipped  by  the  Tibetans,  and  the  horns 
of  which  are  offered  on  the  cairns  at  the  tops  of 
the  passes.  At  every  temple  or  monastery  the 
local  spirit  is  represented  as  an  idol  or  fresco 
within  the  outer  gateway,  usually  to  the  right  of 
the  door,  and  worshipped  with  wine  and  occasion- 
ally with  bloody  sacrifice  ;  and  it  is  given  a  more 
or  less  honorific  name.  One  of  the  fiercest  of  the 
country  fiends  is  Pe-kar  (not  Pe-har,  as  spelt  by 
some  writers),  who  has  been  adopted  as  a  special 
protector  of  monasteries  by  the  Yellow-hat  sect 
of  Lamas.  There  are  also  the  '  house-god,'  the 
ancestral  gods,  and  the  personal  spirits  or  familiars, 
good  and  bad,  of  the  individual. 

The  representations  of  these  spirits  at  their 
shrines,  or  on  altars,  or  in  their  masks  at  the 
sacred  plays  portray  them  in  human  form,  though 
some  of  them  may  have  the  head  of  a  beast  or 
bird,  and  they  are  pictured  by  the  Tibetan  artists 
as  clad  in  the  costume  of  the  country.  The  local 
spirits  sometimes  may  be  represented  by  mere 
sticks  and  stones. 

Living  sacrifice  is  not  offered  to  these  spirits 
nowadays,  but  the  dough  effigies  of  animals 
which  are  offered  indicate,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
present  writer,  the  prevalence  of  animal  sacri- 
fice in  pre-Buddhist  days.  The  animals  most 
commonly  represented  in  this  way  are  the  dog, 
sheep,  and  yak.  Actual  blood  and  the  brains 
and  flesh  of  animals  slain  by  butchers  in  the 
ordinary  way  are  frequently  offered  in  bowls 
made  out  of  human  skulls,  as  in  Indian  Saivite 
rites. 

Of  the  special  implements  used  in  Tibetan 
demon-worship  an  important  one  is  the  three- 
cornered  dagger  called  pur-pa  or  pur-bu.  This 
is  used  by  the  priests  to  stab  and  drive  off  the 
demons,  or  to  impale  them  when  it  is  stuck  into 
the  ground.  What  appears  probably  to  be  a 
Buddhistic  variation  of  this  worship  is  the  feast 
offered  in  charity  to  the  devils  from  time  to 
time.  The  spirits  are  summoned  by  the  blowing 
of  human  thigh-bone  trumpets  and  the  beating  of 
skull  drums  and  gongs,  and  are  afterwards  dis- 
missed in  an  imperative  way. 

The  evil  spirits  of  Indian  Buddhism  bear  the 
following  names  in  Tibetan,  the  latter  being 
usually  the  literal  etymological  translation  of 
the  Sanskrit  names : 


Sanskrit. 
Preta 

Kumbhanda 
Pisacha 
Bhiita 
Putana  and 
Kataputana 


Tibetan. 

Yi-dvag. 

sGrul-'bum. 

Sa-za. 

'Byung-po. 

Srul-po(  = 
1  rotten ')  and 
Lus  Srul-po. 


Sanskrit. 
Unmada 
Skanda 
Chhaya 
Raksa 
Revati-graha 

and    Sakuni- 

graha 


Tibetan. 

eMyo-byed. 

sKyern-byed. 

Grib-gnon. 

Srin-po. 

Nam-grul 
gdon  and 
Byai  gdon. 


These,  as  well  as  the  other  deities  of  Indian 
Buddhism,  are  usually  represented  by  Tibetan 
artists  in  conventional  Indian  dress,  in  contradis- 
tinction to  the  indigenous  deities. 

Literature. — A.  Griinwedel,  Mythol.  des  Buddhismus,  Leip- 
zig, 1900 ;  E.  Pander,  Das  Pantheon  des  Tschangtscha  Hutuktu, 
Berlin,  1890 ;  W.  W.  Rockhill,  Ethnology  of  Tibet,  Washing- 
ton, 1895 ;  L.  A.  Waddell,  The  Buddhism  of  Tibet,  London, 
1895,  also  Lhasa  and  its  Mysteries,  do.  1905. 

L.  A.  Waddell. 

DENES. — A  most  important  aboriginal  group 
of  tribes  north  of  Mexico.  Owing  to  the  great 
temperamental  disparity  of  its  component  parts,  it 
affords  an  excellent  field  for  the  study  of  psychic 
peculiarities  and  the  gradual  development  in  oppo- 
site directions  of  the  mental  faculties.  Within  the 
bosom  of  that  great  American  family  are  to  be 
found  extremes  in  more  ways  than  one.  We  have 
the  fierce  Apaches  in  the  south,  and  the  timid 
Hares  in  the  north,  while  the  industrious  Navahos 
of  Arizona  are  in  as  strong  contrast  to  the  indolent, 
unaesthetic  Dog-Ribs  and  Slaves  of  the  Canadian 
sub-arctic  forests.  All  its  tribes,  however,  are 
more  or  less  remarkable  for  their  pronounced  sense 
of  dependence  on  the  powers  of  the  invisible  world. 
Religious  feeling  and  its  outward  manifestations 
pervade  their  whole  lives,  though  by  some  careless 
travellers  they  have  been  regarded  as  destitute  of 
any  religion. 

The  Denes,  also  improperly  called  Athapascans, 
from  Lake  Athabasca,  the  habitat  of  one  of  their 
tribes,  are  divided  into  Northern,  Southern,  and 
Pacific  Denes.  The  Northern  Denes,  whose  ranks 
are  now  reduced  to  about  19,390  souls,  people  the 
wilds  of  Canada  from  the  Churchill  River,  and 
almost  from  the  Northern  Saskatchewan,  up  to  the 
territory  of  the  Eskimos.  In  British  Columbia, 
the  immense  coniferous  forests  and  snow-capped 
mountains,  extending  from  51°  30'  N.  lat.  to  the 
northern  confines  of  the  Province,  and  beyond  as 
far  as  the  wastes  claimed  by  the  above-mentioned 
hyperborean  aborigines,  are  also  their  patrimonial 
domain.  Their  best  known  tribes  within  that  area 
are  the  Loucheux  (5500  souls)  in  Alaska,  the  Yukon 
Territory,  and  the  lower  Mackenzie ;  the  Hares 
(600),  their  neighbours  in  the  east ;  the  Slaves 
(1100),  west  of  Great  Slave  Lake,  from  Fort  Simpson 
to  Fort  Norman  ;  the  Dog-Ribs  (same  population), 
east  of  the  latter,  as  far  as  Back  River ;  the 
Yellow-Knives  (500),  a  somewhat  licentious  tribe, 
to  the  north-east  of  Great  Slave  Lake ;  the  Chip- 
pewas  (4000)  and  Caribou-Eaters  (1700),  the 
first  representatives  of  the  stock  in  the  north  who 
ever  came  into  contact  with  the  whites  ;  the  Naha- 
nais  (1000),  on  the  Stikine  and,  in  the  same  lati- 
tude, east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains ;  and  the 
Carriers  (970),  who,  with  the  Babines  (530)  and  the 
Chilcotins  (450),  constitute  the  South  -  western 
Denes.  The  well-known  Apaches  (606S)  and  the 
numerous  Navahos  (27,365)  form  the  Southern 
branch  of  the  family  (cf.  Apaches  and  Navahos). 
As  to  the  Pacific  Denes,  they  consist  of  unimport- 
ant tribes,  or  remnants  of  tribes,  scattered  through- 
out N.  California,  Oregon,  and  Washington.  Their 
present  aggregate  does  not  come  to  more  than  900 
souls. 

When  in  their  original  state,  the  Denes  are  emi- 
nently a  nomadic  race  of  hunters  and  fishermen. 
Nowhere,  except  in  British  Columbia,  have  they 
anything  like  villages  or  any  elaborate  social 
system.  Father-right  was  primitively,  and  has 
remained  to  a  great  extent,  the  fundamental  law 
of  their  society.     The  father  of  a  family  is  con 


DBNBS 


637 


sidered  its  fountain-head,  its  natural  chief,  and  the 
controller  of  the  children,  who,  after  marrying, 
stay  with  him,  unless  the  mental  superiority  and 
better  circumstances  of  another  paternal  relative 
claim  them  for  his  own  followers.  They  soon  form 
groups  of  kindred  families,  over  which  he  presides 
as  patriarch  or  head  of  the  band.  These  aggregates 
are  then  the  social  unit,  the  family  not  being  re- 
cognized as  such.  His  power,  however,  is  very 
limited :  directing  the  movements  of  the  band, 
giving  orders  for  camping,  and,  occasionally,  very 
gentle  reproof  are  about  the  sum-total  of  his  pre- 
rogatives. His  influence,  of  course,  depends  greatly 
on  the  number  of  his  suite,  and  their  efficiency  as 
hunters.  Hence  it  is  the  Denes'  ambition  to  have 
as  many  children  as  possible,  especially  of  the  male 
sex.  Polygamy  was  in  honour  among  all  the  tribes. 
While  some  unimportant  men  had  but  one  wife, 
the  majority  had  two,  and  the  lodges  of  the  chiefs 
might  contain  from  two  to  eight.  D.  W.  Harmon 
('A  General  Account  of  the  Indians  on  the  East 
Side  of  the  Rocky  Mountain,'  in  Journal  of  Voy- 
ages, N.  Y.  ed.  1903,  p.  294)  cites  one  who  had  eleven, 
with  more  than  forty  children,  and  W.  H.  Dall 
(Travels  on  the  Yukon  and  in  the  Yukon  Territory, 
p.  Ill)  speaks  of  one  who  had  'at  least  eighteen 
wives.'  A  few  cases  of  polyandry  were  also  found 
among  the  Sekanais,  a  Rocky  Mountain  tribe. 

Five  methods  of  contracting  marriage  may  be 
said  to  have  obtained  among  the  Northern  Denes. 
Marriage  by  mutual  consent  was  exceedingly  rare 
before  the  advent  of  the  missionaries.  Some  such 
arrangement  can,  however,  be  placed  to  the  credit 
of  a  few  mountain  tribes.  '  Will  you  pack  my 
beaver-snares  ? '  the  dusky  youth  would  ask  of  the 
object  of  his  choice.  A  hesitating '  Perhaps '  would 
seal  her  fate,  and,  without  further  ado,  the  couple 
would  thenceforth  become  man  and  wife.  Wooing 
the  bride's  parents,  that  is,  working  for  them  and 
endeavouring  by  every  possible  good  office  to  be- 
come acceptable  to  them,  was  proper  to  the  South- 
western Denes  (cf.  Carrier  Indians).  The  most 
common  gateway  to  sexual  intercourse  east  of  the 
Rockies  was  wrestling.  Two  young  men  would 
publicly  wrestle  for  the  possession  of  a  maiden, 
and  the  same  took  place  in  connexion  with  any 
married  woman  as  well.  No  husband  could  ever 
consider  himself  secure  in  the  company  of  his  wife, 
as  he  was  liable  to  see  her  any  day  snatched  away 
from  him  by  a  stronger  man.  So  much  so,  indeed, 
that  S.  Hearne,  the  first  author  to  give  us  any 
satisfactory  account  of  the  eastern  tribes,  asserts 
(A  Journey  from  Prince  of  Wales's  Fort  to  the 
Northern  Ocean,  p.  104)  that  '  a  weak  man  ...  is 
seldom  permitted  to  keep  a  wife  that  a  stronger 
man  thinks  worth  his  notice. '  He  adds  that  some 
professional  wrestlers  '  make  almost  a  livelihood 
by  taking  what  they  please  from  the  weaker 
parties,  without  making  them  any  return '  (ib.  105). 
A  fourth  way  of  contracting  marriage  was  even 
more  suggestive  of  savagery.  A  man  would  simply 
seize  by  the  hair  and  drag  to  bis  tent  the  object  of 
his  passion.  Finally,  occasions  were  not  wanting 
when  women  were  bought  as  so  many  chattels,  and 
cases  are  also  on  record  when  the  same  object  of 
traffic  was  later  ravished  by  wrestling  from  her 
quondam  purchaser,  the  unfortunate  creature  being 
thus  a  passive  party  to  transactions  whereby  she  was 
'  married '  according  to  the  two  different  methods 
obtaining  in  her  tribe. 

From  this  it  will  be  inferred  how  exceedingly 
low  was  the  position  that  the  woman  occupied  in 
primitive  society.  She  was  merely  a  drudge,  the 
factotum  of  the  household,  a  slave  to  her  husband, 
buffeted  even  by  her  own  male  children,  fond  of 
them  though  she  invariably  was.  Her  fate  was 
more  satisfactory  among  the  Navahos ;  and,  by 
reason  of  the  rank  to  which  she  might  occasion- 


ally succeed,  among  the  South-western  Denes,  life 
was  also  accidentally  made  bearable  for  her,  though 
in  private  life  most  of  the  menial  work  of  the  famfly 
still  fell  to  her  lot.  It  goes  without  saying  that, 
with  such  loose  systems  governing  the  relations  of 
the  sexes,  divorce  followed  in  many  cases  as  a 
matter  of  course,  especially  when  the  union  had 
not  been  cemented  by  the  birth  of  any  children. 

Indiscriminate  as  these  matrimonial  affairs  ap- 
parently were,  blood-relationship  was  always  a 
bar  thereto.  But  among  the  tribes  who  had 
adopted  mother-right  as  their  law  controlling  suc- 
cession to  rank  and  property,  agnates  were  not 
recognized  as  relatives.  A  child  hardly  cared  for 
his  father,  and  took  no  notice  whatever  of  his 
kindred  through  the  male  line.  Hence  first  cousins 
on  the  father's  side  were  considered  strangers  to 
one  another,  and  as  such  very  generally  inter- 
married. On  the  other  hand,  even  very  distant 
relatives  on  the  maternal  side  still  call  themselves 
brothers  and  sisters,  as  the  case  may  be.  This 
applies  also  to  the  members  of  the  same  clan, 
wherever  this  social  organization  prevails.  Primi- 
tively, all  marriages  were  strictly  exogamous,  the 
gentile  tie  being  considered  even  more  binding  than 
blood-relationship.  In  the  case  of  widows,  the 
prescriptions  of  the  levirate  were  scrupulously 
obeyed  by  all  the  tribes,  and  they  had  to  marry 
the  surviving  brother  of  their  late  husband. 

The  dread  which  a  woman  in  her  catamenial 
periods,  or  immediately  after  parturition,  inspired 
in  a  man  can  hardly  be  exaggerated.  Such  a 
creature  was — indeed,  continues  to  be — regarded 
as  the  very  incarnation  of  evil.  As  soon  as  the 
first  symptoms  of  that  momentous  change  in  the 
female  organism  appeared,  the  maiden  was  until  a 
late  date,  and  is  still  in  many  tribes,  sequestered 
from  the  company  of  her  fellow-Denes.  A  little 
hut  was  built  for  her  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village, 
or  some  distance  from  the  tepees  of  the  migrating 
party,  where  she  dwelt  until  her  menses  were  well 
over,  away  from  the  gaze  of  the  public,  and  visited 
only  by  some  female  relative,  who  brought  her,  iu 
small  birch  bark  vessels  which  nobody  else  could 
touch,  the  meagre  fare  of  dried  fish  and  water 
which  custom  prescribed  for  her,  to  the  exclusion 
of  any  nourishing  food,  especially  that  derived 
from  any  large  animal  freshly  killed.  So  portent- 
ous of  evil  was  her  condition  deemed,  that  all  con- 
tact, however  indirect,  with  the  living  creation  was 
denied  her.  Hence  eating,  while  in  her  impure 
state,  of  the  flesh  of  any  game  was  reputed  to 
entail  a  deliberate  insult  to  all  the  representatives 
of  'the  same  species,  which  would  infallibly  take 
their  revenge  by  keeping  away  from  the  traps  or 
arrows  of  her  relatives.  She  could  not  follow  in 
the  trail  of  her  male  companions  for  fear  of  in- 
capacitating them  for  the  chase  ;  she  must  abstain 
from  bathing  or  washing  her  feet  in  lakes  or  rivers, 
lest  she  should  cause  the  death  of  the  fish  they  con- 
tained. Hearne  goes  even  so  far  as  to  say  that  in 
his  time  (1782)  'women  in  this  situation  are  never 
permitted  to  walk  on  the  ice  of  rivers  or  lakes,  or 
near  the  part  where  the  men  are  hunting  beaver, 
or  where  a  fish-net  is  set,  for  fear  of  averting  their 
success'  (op.  cit.  315). 

On  her  return  from  the  hut  of  her  first  menstrua- 
tion, the  maiden  wore,  during  the  following  three 
or  four  years,  a  kind  of  veil  made  of  the  strands  of 
a  long  fringe  ornamented  with  beads,  passing  over 
her  face  and  resting  on  her  breast.  This  Hearne 
supposed  to  be  'a  mark  of  modesty'  (p.  314).  It 
served  the  same  purposes  as  the  prwtexta  of  the 
Romans  and  the  long  outer  garment  of  the  Jewish 
virgins  mentioned  by  Josephus  (Ant.  vil.  viii.  1), 
being  a  badge  of  puberty  and  a  sort  of  public 
notice  that  the  wearer  was  marriageable.  To  this 
was  added  a  bone  tube  to  drink  with  and  a  two- 


638 


DENES 


pronged  comb  to  scratch  her  head,  thereby  avoid- 
ing immediate  contact  between  her  head  and  her 
fingers. 

So  deleterious  were  believed  to  be  the  emanations 
from  the  menstruating  woman,  that  the  tabu  of 
which  she  was  the  object  extended  even  to  the 
contact  with  any  weapon,  or  implement,  designed 
for  the  capture  of  animals.  Captain  G.  Back 
records  the  '  consternation '  and  hasty  flight  of  a 
poor  woman  who  had  unwittingly  trodden  on  her 
husband's  gun — an  offence  which  the  explorer  de- 
clares (Narr.  of  the  Arctic  Land  Expedition  to  the 
Mouth  of  the  Great  Fish  River,  p.  124)  did  not 
usually  meet  with  any  lighter  punishment  than  '  a 
slit  nose  or  a  bit  cut  off  the  ears.'  The  same  legal 
uncleanness  attached  to  a  new  mother,  and  a  like 
sequestration  followed,  which  was  then  protracted 
to  a  month  or  five  weeks  after  child-birth.  During 
that  period  the  father  would  not,  as  a  rule,  see  his 
child. 

Speaking  of  legal  uncleanness,  we  must  not 
forget  to  mention  that  some  such  state  was  also 
supposed  to  be  consequent  on  the  shedding  of 
human  blood.  Hearne  relates  that,  after  his  Dene 
companions  had  massacred  over  twenty  inoffensive 
Eskimos,  all  those  immediately  concerned  in  the 
affair  considered  themselves  debarred  from  cooking 
either  for  themselves  or  for  others.  Before  every 
meal  they  painted  their  upper  lips  and  the  greater 
part  of  the  cheeks  with  red  ochre.  They  would 
not  drink  out  of  any  other  dish  or  use  any  other 
pipe  than  their  own,  nor  would  those  who  had  had 
no  hand  in  the  massacre  touch  the  murderer's  dish 
or  pipe.  This,  as  well  as  the  abstaining  from 
many  parts  of  the  game  they  ate,  was  regularly 
followed  for  an  entire  season,  after  which  '  the 
men,  without  a  female  being  present,  made  a  fire 
at  some  distance  from  the  tents,  into  which  they 
threw  all  their  ornaments,  pipe-stems,  and  dishes, 
which  were  soon  consumed  to  ashes  ;  after  which  a 
feast  was  prepared,  consisting  of  such  articles  as 
they  had  long  been  prohibited  from  eating ;  and, 
when  all  was  over,  each  man  was  at  liberty  to  eat, 
drink,  and  smoke  as  they  pleased  ;  and  also  to  kiss 
their  wives  and  children  at  discretion,'  which  they 
had  previously  been  forbidden  to  do  (op.  cit.  206). 

Much  married  as  the  Denes  usually  were,  they 
regarded  continence  as  essential  for  success  in 
certain  undertakings.  No  hunter  would  ever 
dream  of  leaving  for  any  important  trapping  ex- 
pedition who  had  not  first  separated  a  toro  from  his 
wives  for  quite  an  extended  period.  Did  he  succeed 
in  capturing  a  beaver  or  a  bear,  he  would  carefully 
see  to  it  that  no  dog — an  unclean  animal — should 
be  permitted  to  touch  any  of  its  bones.  The  skull 
and  molars,  especially,  were  reputed  sacred,  and 
were  invariably  stuck  up  on  the  branches  of  a  tree 
or,  more  commonly,  on  the  forked  end  of  a  tent- 
pole.  The  fear  lest  an  unclean  animal — dog,  fox, 
or  wolf — might  profane  the  same  by  contact  there- 
with was  the  reason  prompting  those  precautions. 
Should  such  a  dreadful  contingency  occur,  the 
hunter  immediately  desisted  from  exerting  himself 
in  any  way,  being  firmly  persuaded  that  all  his 
efforts  towards  trapping  any  game  of  the  same 
species  would  prove  futile. 

To  understand  these  superstitions  and  most  of 
those  relating  to  menstruating  women,  we  must 
remember  that,  in  the  Dene  cosmogony,  all  the 
present  entities  of  Nature  were  originally  endowed 
with  human-like  faculties.  Even  trees  spoke  and 
fought,  and  the  fowls  of  the  air  and  the  animals  of 
the  earth  were  men  like  ourselves,  though  distin- 
guished by  potent  faculties  which  we  do  not  possess. 
These  wonderful  powers,  though  now  somewhat 
attenuated,  are  supposed  still  to  exist  in  the  brute 
creation.  A  share  of  them  possessed  by  a  few 
privileged  individuals    constitutes  what   we   call 


magic.  This  is  the  connecting  link  between  man 
and  beast,  and  also  the  means  whereby  one  may 
commune  with  the  world  of  spirits,  and  by  whose 
aid  a  person  is  enabled  to  succeed  in  his  quest  after 
happiness  and  the  necessaries  of  life.  Hence  the 
sympathy  or  antipathy  which  may  exist  between 
hunter  and  hunted,  according  to  the  way  in  which 
the  former  treats  the  latter.  The  language  of  the 
best  Christianized  Dene  has  retained  to  this  day 
unequivocal  traces  of  these  zootheistic  ideas.  If 
unsuccessful  in  his  hunt  after  game,  the  modern 
Dene  will  not  say :  '  I  had  bad  luck  with  this  or 
that  animal,'  but:  'Bears  or  beavers,'  as  the  case 
may  be,  'did  not  want  me.'  The  spirits,  which 
have  their  seats  in  the  various  parts  of  the  universe 
and  are  co-existent  with  them,  are  good  or  bad,  or 
rather  noxious  or  friendly  to  man.  The  evil  spirits, 
on  the  occasion  of  breaches  of  the  moral  law,  or  the 
neglect  of  the  traditional  observances,  attack  man 
and  dwell  in  him,  causing  thereby  madness,  fits, 
and  other  nervous  disorders,  disease,  and  death. 
The  kindly  spirits  manifest  themselves  to  him 
during  his  sleep,  or  suddenly  in  the  woods  or 
elsewhere,  under  the  shape  of  the  particular  entity — 
animal,  sun,  celestial  phenomenon,  etc. — with  which 
they  are  so  intimately  connected  that  to  the  Indian 
mind  mundane  being  and  indwelling  power  are 
almost  one  and  the  same.  This  manifestation  is  a 
token  of  their  wish  to  act  towards  him  as  protect- 
ing genii,  in  return  for  some  consideration  shown 
to  their  present  concretized  forms  or  symbols. 
These  are  the  personal  totems  (inanitous),  the  only 
ones  known  to  the  unadulterated  Denes  (cf.  Totem- 
ISM).  The  adopted  party  will  thenceforth  show  his 
regard  for  his  protector  by  not  suffering  the  par- 
ticular being  in  which  it  resides  to  be  lightly  treated 
or  abused  in  any  way  ;  by  exposing  in  his  lodge  its 
spoils  (if  an  animal,  or  its  symbol,  if  a  heavenly 
orb,  etc.),  or  carrying  on  his  person  a  reminder  of 
it  in  the  shape  of  its  tail,  a  feather  flowing  from 
his  head-dress,  etc.  In  times  of  need  the  Dene  will 
secretly  invoke  the  aid  of  his  manitou,  saying : 
'  May  you  do  this  or  that  to  me ! '  Before  an 
assault  on  his  enemies,  or  previous  to  his  hunt,  he 
will  daub  its  symbol  in  red  ochre  on  his  bow  and 
arrows,  or  sing  out  in  its  honour  a  rude  chant  con- 
sisting of  a  single  phrase  repeated  ad  infinitum. 
Magic  and  song,  in  the  mind  of  the  American 
native,  have  a  most  intimate  correlation,  and  few 
important  attempts  to  influence  the  spirits  one 
way  or  another  are  unaccompanied  by  loud  chant- 
ing and  the  noisy  beating  of  drums.  Should  his 
appeal  for  help  be  heard,  he  will  give  expression  to 
his  gratitude  by  burning,  or  throwing  into  the 
water,  any  piece  of  property  on  hand,  goods  or 
clothing,  or  in  later  times  tobacco. 

In  the  North  this  was  the  only  kind  of  sacrifice 
known  to  the  Denes.  At  times  it  took  a  propitia- 
tory or  rogatory  character,  being  intended  to  obtain 
favours  or  avert  calamities.  The  personified  ele- 
ments, especially  wind  with  the  tribes  dwelling  on 
the  banks  of  the  large  Northern  lakes,  were  the 
most  common  beneficiaries  of  such  offerings,  unless 
we  add  thereto  another  class  of  spirits,  which  have 
some  resemblance  to  the  genii  locorum  of  the 
Romans.  These  were  believed  to  haunt  places 
prominent  for  some  natural  peculiarity — the  steep- 
ness of  a  hill,  the  magnitude  or  striking  appearance 
of  a  rock,  etc.  It  was  usual  for  any  wayfarer 
passing  by  such  spots  to  offer  a  stone  to  the  spirit 
or  its  materialized  form.  A  custom  similar  to  this 
can  be  traced  to  the  wastes  of  Tartary  (cf.  Hue, 
Souvenirs  o?un  voyage  dans  la  Tartaric,  Paris, 
1850,  i.  25  f. ),  and  the  Dene  practice  may  even  be 
compared  with  the  prayer-machines  set  up  on  some 
mountain-tops  in  far-away  Tibet. 

Instead  of  quietly  revealing  itself  in  a  dream  or 
a  vision,  the  manitou  occasionally  prostrated  the 


DENES 


638 


Dene  to  the  extent  of  depriving  him  of  bis  senses. 
In  such  accidents  the  bystanders  would  never  re- 
cognize a  mere  cataleptic  fit.  They  would  insist 
that  the  mind  of  the  smitten  individual  had  been 
attracted  by  some  powerful  spirit,  with  which  it 
was  communing.  To  them  any  kind  of  fainting 
malady  was  much  the  same  as  epilepsy  to  the 
Eomans.  It  was  a  morbus  sacer,  denoting  mysteri- 
ous influences.  Swooning  is  still  called  by  the 
Carriers  ne-7cha-uth6zcet,  or  the  attack  of  a  spirit. 
When  loud  chanting,  enhanced  by  louder  beating 
of  drums,  had  succeeded  in  breaking  the  spell,  the 
soul  of  the  patient  was  supposed  to  return  from  the 
spirit  world,  and  he  was  looked  upon  with  a  venera- 
tion bordering  on  awe.  Henceforth  he  was  regarded 
as  possessed  of  the  mysterious  powers  over  Nature, 
and  the  spirits  controlling  it,  which  we  call  magic, 
and  his  ministrations  were  resorted  to  whenever  it 
was  a  question  of  counteracting  the  influence  of 
the  evil  spirits  which  cause  disease  and  public 
calamities.  In  a  word,  he  was  a  regular  shaman, 
and  the  religious  system  of  which  he  had  become 
the  chief  representative  was  the  shamanism  of  the 
north-eastern  Asiatic  races  in  almost  all  its  purity 
(cf.  Shamanism).  Among  the  Navahos  of  the 
South  this  is  still  at  the  base  of  the  religious  edifice ; 
but  commiscegenation  with  alien  stocks  and  the 
influence  of  environment  have  notably  modified  it 
by  the  addition  of  rites  and  elaborate  ceremonies 
based  on  the  remembrance  of  the  many  adventures 
of  their  culture  heroes  (cf.  Navahos). 

The  functions  of  the  shaman  will  be  found  fully 
explained  in  the  article  Shamanism.  Suffice  it  to 
say  here  that  they  were  seven-fold  among  the 
Northern  Denes.  Shamanistic  conjuring  with  that 
particular  American  race  was  curative,  preventive, 
inquisitive,  malefic,  operative,  prestidigitative,  or 
prophetical.  A  role  which  was  perhaps  proper  to 
the  profession  in  the  North  was  that  of  father  con- 
fessor. Auricular  confession  of  personal  delin- 
quencies to  him  who  might  be  represented  as  the 
nearest  aboriginal  equivalent  of  a  priest — though  he 
could  not  strictly  be  called  by  such  a  name  for  the 
lack  of  any  regular  sacrifice  or  cult — was  one  of 
the  religious  institutions  of  the  primeval  forests  of 
northern  Canada.  Of  the  shaman  among  the 
Western  Denes,  Harmon  wrote  as  early  as  1820 : 

*  When  the  Carriers  are  very  sick,  they  often  think  that  they 
shall  not  recover  unless  they  divulge  to  a  priest  or  magician 
every  crime  which  they  may  have  committed,  which  has 
hitherto  been  kept  secret.  In  such  a  case,  they  will  make  a 
full  confession,  and  then  they  expect  that  their  lives  will  be 
spared  for  a  time  longer.  But  should  they  keep  back  a  single 
crime,  they  as  fully  believe  that  they  shall  suffer  instant  death ' 
('  An  Account  of  the  Indians  living  West  of  the  Rocky  Mountain,' 
in  Journal  of  Voyages,  N. Y.  ed.  1903,  p.  256  f.). 

The  present  writer  had  recorded  the  same  custom 
long  before  he  saw  the  old  trader's  volume.  On  the 
other  hand,  in  the  course  of  his  Trad.  ind.  du 
Canada  nord-ouest,  p.  418  f.,  E.  Petitot  gives 
a  Chippewa  (Eastern)  text  furnished  him  in  1863 
by  an  old  shaman  of  Great  Slave  Lake,  of  which 
the  following  is  a  partial  translation  : 

'The  man  who  is  sick  as  a  consequence  of  hia  sins  .  .  sits 
by  the  shaman,  to  whom  he  confesses  his  misdeeds.  The 
Bhaman  asks  him  many  a  question,  reprimands  him  in  order  to 
draw  out  the  sins  he  conceals.  .  .  .  Finally,  the  patient  having 
confessed  everything,  the  shaman  brings  down  on  him  the  Far- 
off  Spirit,  his  own  familiar,  which,  entering  into  the  Bick  man, 
takes  away  his  sins,  whereupon  disease  immediately  leaves 
him.' 

The  greatest  importance  was  attached  to  dreams. 
It  was  through  the  medium  of  dreams  that  most  of 
their  communications  with  the  invisible  world  took 
place,  and  to  this  day  the  Denes  consider  dreaming 
as  a  token  of  occult  powers  over  Nature  and  man. 
For  this  reason  they  are  loth  to  wake  up  any  sleep- 
ing person,  as  he  or  she  may  just  be  enjoying  a 
dream,  that  is,  communing  with  the  spirits.  Any- 
body talking  in  his  sleep  is  nolens  volens  regarded 
as  a  great  sorcerer  or  shaman. 


Though  the  spirits  are  much  more  in  evidence 
than  any  other  hidden  power  in  the  Den6  theo- 
gony,  they  were  not  without  the  notion  of  a 
Supreme  Being  governing  the  world  and  punishing 
the  wicked.  In  the  West,  the  nature  of  this  ruling 
principle  was  not  very  clear,  though  it  was  gener- 
ally recognized  as  the  great  controller  of  the  celest- 
ial forces — wind,  rain,  and  snow.  Thunder  they 
still  firmly  believe  to  be  a  gigantic  bird  of  the  eagle 
genus,  the  winking  of  whose  eyelids  produces 
lightning,  while  the  detonations  are  due  to  the 
flapping  of  its  wings.  That  this  Deity  was,  indeed, 
paramount  and  personal  in  the  estimation  of  those 
Indians  is  made  evident  by  the  usual  formula  of 
their  oaths.  Yuttcere  scetit  sd  :  '  That-which-is-on- 
high  heareth  me, '  and  Yuttcere  nalh  cedcesni  :  '  I 
say  it  in  presence  of  That-which-is-on-high '  (the 
Celestial  Power),  are  forms  used  by  the  old  Carriers 
to  this  day.  The  new  generation  has  another  name 
for  the  Supreme  Being,  based  on  more  adequate 
knowledge  due  to  the  missionaries. 

The  majority  of  the  North  American  Indians 
attribute  the  work  of  creation  to  a  prodigious  hero, 
of  a  human  nature,  but  exceedingly  powerful, 
generally  more  or  less  tricky  and  not  too  scrupu- 
lous, whose  many  deeds  and  miraculous  adventures 
furnish  the  subject-matter  of  endless  tales.  This 
is  the  culture  hero  of  the  Americanists,  the  (Estas 
of  the  Western  Denes,  who  borrowed  his  person- 
ality from  the  N.  Pacific  coast  tribes,  and  the 
Yimantuwinyai,  '  the  One  who  is  lost  across  the 
ocean,'  of  the  Hupas,  the  principal  tribe  of 
the  Pacific  group  of  Denes.  But  the  Eastern 
Denes  know  of  a  God  who  is  Creator  as  well 
as  Ruler  of  the  universe.  He  is,  however,  less 
spiritualized  with  them  than  the  chief  Deity  of 
their  Western  kin,  since  they  lend  him  human 
attributes.  Inkfwin-wetay,  '  He  that  sits  on  the 
zenith,'  is  the  name  by  which  the  Hare  Indians 
know  him,  and,  according  to  Petitot,  that  tribe 
makes  him  trine :  father,  mother,  and  son.  The 
father  is  in  the  zenith,  the  mother  in  the  nadir, 
and  the  son  travels  incessantly  from  the  one  to 
the  other.  The  father  by  his  mere  volition  made 
the  earth  and  all  it  contains,  after  which  he  lit  the 
celestial  orbs,  the  sun  and  the  moon — most  of  the 
stars  and  constellations  were  originally  inhabitants 
of  our  own  globe— at  the  prayer  of  his  son,  who, 
having  perceived  the  earth  during  one  of  his 
voyages,  sang  out :  '  O  my  Father  who  sittest  on 
high,  do  light  the  heavenly  fire,  for  on  that  small 
island  (the  earth)  my  brothers-in-law  (men)  have 
been  wretched  for  a  long  time'  (Petitot,  Mono- 
graphic des  D6n£-Dindjie,  p.  xxiii). 

Most  of  the  tribes  have  also  a  tradition  pointing 
to  the  extinction  of  mankind  by  water,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  Wise  One,  among  the  Eastern  Denes, 
or  (Estas,  the  chief  legendary  hero  of  the  Western 
tribes.  In  the  legends  relating  these  events  the 
musk-rat  and  the  beaver,  two  animals  famous  for 
their  nimbleness  and  skill,  are  said  to  have  been 
instrumental  in  reconstructing  the  earth,  after  it 
had  been  destroyed  through  the  submersion  of  its 
highest  mountains. 

The  sacredness  of  the  number  seven  among  the 
Jews  is  a  matter  of  common  knowledge.  That 
number  is  among  the  majority  of  the  American 
aborigines  replaced  by  four ;  but  both  seven  and 
four  yield  in  sacredness  to  the  number  two  in  the 
legends  and  traditions  of  the  Western  Dene  tribes. 

By  the  side  of,  and  in  opposition  to,  the  Supreme 
Being  of  the  nation  is,  according  to  Petitot,  a 
counterpart  of  our  devil  in  the  theogony  of  the 
North-eastern  tribes.  If  we  are  to  believe  that 
author,  the  knowledge  of  such  an  entity  preceded 
the  advent  of  the  missionaries,  and  it  was  called 
'  the  Bad  One,'  '  the  Forsaken  One,'  '  He  that 
passed    through    heaven,'   etc. ,   according  to   the 


640 


DENES 


various  localities.  The  older  Carriers  call  him  to- 
day by  the  first-mentioned  name  ;  but  the  present 
■writer  is  inclined  to  believe  that  they  owe  this 
notion  to  intercourse  with  the  whites. 

No  tribe  worshipped  the  Deity  in  any  way  ;  no 
cult  of  any  kind,  sacred  dances  or  public  prayers, 
obtained  in  the  North.  The  only  dance  whose 
object  was  not  mere  recreation  took  place  in  con- 
nexion with  an  eclipse(cf.  Prodigiesand  Portents 
[Anier.]).  But  in  the  South  the  Navahos  have 
elaborate  rites  and  know  of  public  praying,  though 
their  requests  are  addressed  more  to  the  personified 
elements  and  their  culture-heroes,  or  semi-deified 
ancestors,  than  to  any  Supreme  Deity. 

As  to  man,  he  is  believed  to  be  made  up  of  a 
perishable  body  and  a  transformable,  and  there- 
fore surviving,  soul — if  this  be  the  proper  word  for 
an  element  which  is  perhaps  as  much  the  effect  as 
the  cause  of  life.  The  name  given  it  by  most  tribes 
literally  means  in  the  West  '  warmth.'  Yet  it  is 
to-day  used  to  designate  the  principle  of  life,  while 
the  Eastern  Denes  have  for  the  soul  animating  the 
body  words  varying  according  to  the  dialects, 
though  almost  all  of  them  are  the  counterparts  of 
the  Lat.  spiritus.  Analogous  terms  serve  in  the 
West  to  express  not  the  vital  principle,  but  the 
outward  sign  of  life,  breath,  and,  by  extension, 
life  itself. 

Besides  this  principle,  or  physical  condition,  there 
is  ne-tsen,  man's  shadow,  usually  called  '  second 
self.'  This  is  a  reflexion  of  the  individual  person- 
ality, invisible  in  time  of  good  health,  because  then 
confined  within  its  normal  seat,  the  body,  but  which 
on  the  approach  of  sickness  and  death  wanders  out 
of  its  home,  and  roams  about,  seldom  seen  but  often 
heard.  Its  absence  from  its  proper  corporeal  seat, 
if  too  prolonged,  infallibly  results  in  death. 

Finally,  ne-zul  in  the  Dene  psychology  may  be 
said  to  represent  the  soul  or  surviving  principle 
after  death.  Strictly  speaking,  the  word  refers  to 
the  impalpable,  dematerialized  remnants  of  one's 
individuality,  or  a  transformed  self  adapted  to  the 
conditions  of  the  next  world.  That  world  is  very 
generally  believed  to  be  situated  underground, 
and  watered  by  a  large  river,  in  which  the  shades 
catch  small  fry  for  their  subsistence,  visiting  their 
nets  in  double  canoes — a  craft  otherwise  unknown 
in  N.  America.  Their  condition  there  seems  to  be 
unequal,  inasmuch  as  those  who  have  not  received 
the  last  funeral  rites  according  to  the  customs  of 
their  tribes  are  constantly  wandering,  fed  on  mice, 
toads,  foetuses,  and  squirrels,  or  even  cast  into  the 
waters  of  the  big  river  instead  of  being  ferried 
across,  while  others  are  reported  to  be  playing  on 
the  grass,  or  dancing  to  the  tune  of  a  song,  the 
main  burden  of  which  is  the  words  Ihe'qa  t'sethine, 
'we  sleep  separated  from  one  another,  i.e.  'there 
is  no  more  any  matrimonial  union  between  us.' 

Metempsychosis  was  strongly  believed  in  by  the 
Eastern  Denes.  Petitot  writes  in  his  Monographic 
des  Dini-Dindjid,  p.  xxx  : 

'  I  have  been  unable  to  eradicate  from  the  mind  of  a  certain 
girl  the  persuasion  that,  before  her  birth,  she  had  lived  under  a 
name  and  with  features  unknown  to  me,  nor  could  I  prevent  an 
old  woman  from  claiming  the  child  of  her  neighbour,  under  the 
pretext  that  she  recognized  in  him  the  migrated  soul  of  her  own 
late  son.     I  am  personally  acquainted  with  several  such  cases.' 

The  art.  Carrier  Indians  makes  it  clear  that 
such  notions  were  not  confined  to  the  East.  Yet, 
we  must  add  that  the  Western  Denes  now  seem  to 
have  entirely  discarded  them,  while  the  beliefs 
connected  with  menstruating  women,  the  spirits, 
and  shamanism  still  lurk  in  the  minds  of  many, 
and  are  openly  professed  by  a  few.  With  others 
they  are  at  best  obsolescent.  This  re-incarnation  of 
the  soul  did  not  always  result  in  a  mere  exchange 
of  bodies  of  a  similar  kind.  The  author  just  quoted 
further  says  that  he  has  known  a  poor  mother  who 

as  lamenting  because  an  old  shaman  had  assured 


her  that  she  had  seen  her  dead  son  walking  by  the 
shore  of  the  lake  under  the  form  of  a  bear.  He 
adds  :  '  It  is  seldom  that  we  see  any  man  of  influ- 
ence die  without  hearing  soon  after  his  former 
companions  claim  that  they  have  seen  him  meta- 
morphosed into  a  bipedal  caribou,  a  bear,  or  an 
elk/ 

The  original  mode  of  disposing  of  dead  bodies  in 
the  North  seems  to  have  been  by  enclosing  them 
within  rough  cratings  made  of  small  logs  crossed 
at  the  ends,  which  were  raised  from  3  ft.  to  7  ft. 
above  ground  on  stout  poles  or  posts.  Any  object 
which  might  have  belonged  to  the  deceased  either 
accompanied  him  in  his  final  retreat  or  was  cast 
into  the  water,  burnt,  or  hidden  in  the  branches 
of  trees.  Sometimes  the  remains  were  concealed 
within  trees  hollowed  out  for  the  purpose,  or  natur- 
ally hollow  through  age  and  decay ;  but  in  the 
East  it  was  much  more  usual  simply  to  abandon 
them  where  they  fell.  They  were  never  buried, 
except  among  the  Chilcotins,  a  South-western 
tribe,  while  their  neighbours,  the  Carriers  and  the 
Babines,  cremated  them,  after  the  custom  of  the 
coast  Indians. 

Such  were  the  Denes  when  first  met  by  the 
whites.  The  Apaches  were  the  first  representa- 
tives of  the  nation  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the 
pale-faced  strangers,  in  the  persons  of  the  Spaniards 
of  Mexico.  In  the  North,  their  first  contact  with 
our  civilization  occurred  in  the  vicinity  of  Hudson 
Bay,  where  the  Fur  Trading  Company  named  after 
that  inland  sea  established  posts,  from  one  of  which 
Arthur  Dobbs  wrote  in  1744  the  earliest  printed  re- 
ference to  the  race  which  has  come  to  the  present 
writer's  knowledge.  In  1771-72,  Samuel  Hearne, 
one  of  the  traders,  reached  the  Arctic  Ocean"  in  the 
company  of  a  large  band  of  Eastern  Denes,  who  then 
perpetrated  the  unprovoked  massacre  of  Eskimos 
already  mentioned.  Then  came  Alex.  Mackenzie, 
who,  in  1789,  descended  the  noble  stream  now 
known  under  his  name,  and  in  1793  penetrated  as 
far  west  as  the  Pacific  Ocean,  always  accompanied 
by  a  few  Northern  Denes,  who  did  not  succeed  in 
securing  him  a  peaceful  reception  at  the  hands  of 
all  the  new  Dene  tribes.  About  1811,  the  Yellow- 
Knives  repeated  on  the  poor  Eskimos  the  exploit 
of  Hearne's  companions,  killing  some  thirty  of 
them  near  the  month  of  the  Coppermine  River, 
and  two  years  later  a  party  of  Bocky  Mountains 
Denes,  acting  under  provocation,  destroyed  Fort 
Nelson,  on  the  Liard  River,  and  murdered  its  in- 
mates. Ten  years  thereafter  (1823),  the  Dog-Rib9 
and  Hares,  long  oppressed  by  the  Yellow-Knives, 
fell  upon  them  unawares  and  cut  off  a  large  number 
of  them.  Then  came  the  visits  of  the  Arctic  ex- 
plorers, Sir  John  Franklin,  Captain  G.  Back,  and 
Dr.  King,  Thomas  Simpson,  Sir  John  Richardson, 
etc.  The  dates  attached  to  their  respective  works 
in  the  following  bibliography  are  safe  indications 
of  the  epochs  of  their  travels  among  the  Denes. 

Finally,  we  have  the  missionaries.  The  Catholics 
reached  isle-a-la-Crosse  in  1845,  Lake  Athabasca  in 
1847,  Great  Slave  Lake  in  1852,  Peace  River  in 
1858,  and  the  Lower  Mackenzie  in  1859.  Father 
Petitot,  a  prolific  ethnographer,  was  the  first 
minister  of  the  gospel  to  visit  Great  Bear  Lake, 
which  he  did  for  the  first  time  in  the  course  of 
1866.  The  missionaries  were  almost  everywhere 
well  received,  and  readily  made  numerous  prose- 
lytes :  1859  saw  the  establishment  of  the  first  Pro- 
testant mission  at  Fort  Simpson,  on  the  Mackenzie, 
after  which  outposts  were  started  among  the  Lou- 
cheux  Indians  west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  To- 
day practically  the  entire  nation  in  the  North  is 
Christian,  about  nine-tenths  having  adopted  the 
Catholic  faith,  and  the  remainder  the  Protestant. 

See  Htjpas  and  Navahos  for  Central  and 
Southern  Athapascans. 


DEOGABH-DERVISH 


641 


Literature. — S.  Hearne,  A  Journey  from  Prince  of  Wales's 
Fart,  Dublin,  1796 ;  A.  Mackenzie,  Voyages  from  Montreal  to 
the  Frozen  and  Pacific  Oceans,  London,  1801 ;  D.  W.  Harmon, 
Journ.  of  Voyages  and  Travels  in  the  Interior  of  N.  America, 
Andover,  1820,  reprint,  N.Y.  1903  ;  Sir  John  Franklin,  Journey 
to  the  Shores  of  the  Polar  Sea,  London,  1829  ;  G.  Back,  Arctic 
Land  Expedition  to  the  Mouth  of  the  Great  Fish  River,  London, 
18;<6 ;  R.  King,  Journey  to  the  Shores  of  the  Arctic  Ocean, 
London,  1S36 ;  Th.  Simpson,  Narr.  of  the  Discoveries  on  the 
S.  Coast  of  America,  London,  1843 ;  Sir  John  Richardson, 
Arctic  Searching  Expedition,  London,  1851;  W.  H.  Hooper, 
Ten  Months  among  the  Tents  of  the  Tuski,  London,  1853 ;  F. 
Whymper,  Travel  and  Adventure  in  the  Territory  of  Alaska, 
London,  1S6S  ;  A.  Tache,  Esquisse  sur  le  Nord-Ouest  de  I'Amir- 
ique,  Paris,  1869 ;  W.  H.  Dall,  '  Tribes  of  the  Extreme  North- 
west,' in  Cantrib.  to  N.  Amer.  Ethnol.  vol.  i.  pt.  i.  p.  25,  also 
Travels  on  the  Yukon  and  in  the  Yukon  Territory,  London, 
1878  (reprint) ;  E.  Petitot,  Etude  sur  la  nation  montagnaise, 
Lyons,  1868,  Monographic  des  B&ni-Dindjie,  Paris,  1876,  Be 
r'Origine  asiat.  des  lndiens  de  V  Am&rique  arctique,  Lyons, 
1879,  Trad,  ind.  du  Canada  nord-ouest,  Paris,  1886,  En  route 
pour  la  mer  glaciale,  Paris,  1888,  Quinze  ans  sous  le  cercle 
polaire,  Paris,  1SS9,  Accord  des  mythologies  dans  la  cosmogonie 
des  Danites  aretiques,  Paris,  1890,  Autour  du  Grand  Lac  des 
Exclaves,  Paris,  1S91 ;  A.  G.  Morice,  The  Western  Dinis, 
Toronto,  1889,  etc.  (cf.  art.  CARRrER  Indians),  Au  Pays  de 
fours  noir,  Paris,  1897,  Minor  Essays  (mostly  anthropological), 
Stuart  Lake,  1902,  Hist,  of  the  N.  Interior  of  British  Columbia^, 
Toronto,  1904,  The  Great  Bins'  Race,  Vienna,  1906  ff . ;  P.  E. 
Goddard,  Life  and  Culture  of  the  Hupa,  Berkeley,  1903-4. 
Cf.  also  bibliography  at  the  end  of  articles  Apaches,  Carrier 
Ihdians,  and  Navahos.  A.  G.  MORICE. 

DEOGARH  —  (Skr.  deva-gada,  'fort  of  the 
gods'). — A  town  in  the  Santal  Parganas  of  Bengal, 
lat.  24°  30'  N.,  long.  86°  42'  E.,  containing 
the  famous  temple  of  Baidyanath  (Skr.  vaidya- 
ndtha,  '  lord  of  physicians,'  an  epithet  of  Siva). 
By  a  folk  etymology  the  place  is  connected  with 
one  Baiju,  a  member  of  a  Dravidian  tribe,  who  by 
one  account  was  a  Gwala,  or  cowherd,  by  caste. 
It  is  said  that  he  was  so  disgusted  with  the  laziness 
and  indifference  of  the  Brahman  priests  of  the 
shrine,  that  he  vowed  that  he  would  daily,  as  evi- 
dence of  his  contempt  for  them,  strike  the  image 
of  the  god  with  his  club.  One  day,  as  he  perpe- 
trated this  insult,  the  idol  spoke  and  blessed  him 
because  he,  though  not  a  worshipper,  had  resented 
the  carelessness  of  his  priests.  When  asked  to 
claim  a  boon  from  the  god,  Baiju  prayed  that  he 
might  be  known  as  Natha,  'lord,  and  that  the 
temple  should  be  called  after  his  name.  The  re- 
quest was  granted,  and  the  shrine  has  since  been 
known  as  that  of  Baijnath. 

It  has  been  suggested  without  any  valid  reason  that  the 
legend  implies  some  connexion  between  the  present  cultus  and 
the  rites  of  the  Dravidian  tribes.  According  to  the  Hindu 
legend,  the  selection  of  the  site  was  due  to  the  demon  Havana, 
king  of  Lanka  or  Ceylon,  who  in  the  epic  of  the  Ramayana  is 
the  ravisher  of  Sua,  wife  of  Rama.  It  is  said  that  he  got 
possession  of  a  famous  liiigam  of  Siva  to  aid  him  in  his  fight 
with  Rama,  and  on  his  way  south  halted  to  purify  himself  at 
the  site  of  Deogarh.  Finding  no  water,  he  dashed  his  fist  into 
the  ground  and  formed  the  existing  Sivaganga  lake.  But,  when 
the  liiigam  was  set  down,  seeing  the  place  to  be  fair,  it  refused 
to  move  further  with  Havana,  and  has  been  there  ever  since, 
known  by  the  name  of  Mahadeva  Ravanesvara,  'lord  Ravaoa.' 
The  same  story  is  told  to  account  for  the  position  of  many  other 
sacred  images  in  India  (Cunningham,  Archaeological  Survey 
Reports,  viu.  143  ff. ;  Oppert,  Original  Inhabitants  of  Bharata- 
varsa,  1893,  pp.  137,  375). 

The  early  history  of  the  shrine  is  obscure. 
When  the  British  occupied  the  country,  they  tried, 
but  with  ill-success,  to  manage  the  endowments 
and  collect  the  offerings  of  pilgrims.  Finally  it 
was  made  over  to  the  present  priests,  who  are 
known  as  ojha  (Skr.  upadhyaya,  '  teacher ').  In 
front  of  the  temple  is  a  remarkable  structure,  con- 
sisting of  two  massive  monoliths  supporting  a  third 
stone  of  similar  shape  and  size.  It  is  known  as 
the  Swinging  Platform  (dola-manchd),  and  was 
possibly  originally  used  in  the  rite  of  swinging  the 
idol.  The  chief  temple  is  that  of  Siva,  and  close 
by  is  a  later  shrine  of  his  spouse,  Gauri,  '  the 
yellow  or  brilliant  one,'  which  is  joined  to  that  of 
her  consort  by  festoons  of  gaudy-coloured  cloth, 
thus  typifying  the  union  of  the  god  and  the  god- 
dess. At  the  back  of  the  god's  temple  is  a  verandah 
in  which  suppliants  for  his  favours — recovery  from 

VOL.  IV. — 41 


disease,  the  blessing  of  children,  and  so  on — make 
their  vigils.  With  the  usual  catholicity  of  modern 
Hinduism,  the  chief  shrines  are  surrounded  by 
those  of  the  lesser  gods — Rama  and  Lakshmana 
representing  Visnu  in  this  Saiva  atmosphere ; 
Suraj  Narayan,  the  sun-god ;  Sarasvati,  goddess 
of  learning ;  Manasft,  the  snake-goddess ;  Hanu- 
man,  the  monkey-god ;  Kala  Bhairava,  god  of 
destruction ;  and  Annapurna,  '  she  who  gives 
wealth  in  grain.'  But  all  these  shrines  bear  marks 
of  neglect.  To  illustrate  the  fusion  of  Islam  with 
Hinduism,  Gait  (Census  Report  Bengal,  1901,  i. 
176)  remarks  that  '  Muhammadans  are  often  seen 
to  carry  sacred  water  to  the  shrine  of  Baidyanath, 
and,  as  they  may  not  enter  the  shrine,  pour  it  as 
a  libation  on  the  outside  verandah.' 

Literature. — Sir  W.  Hunter,  The  Annals  of  Rural  Bengal*, 
1871,  p.  191  ff.  ;  Bradley-Birt,  The  Story  of  an  Indian  Upland, 
1905,  p.  311  f.;  JASBe  lii.  pt.  i.  164.  W.  CROOKE. 

DEONTOLOGY. — Deontology  is  the  science  of 
ethics.  The  term  seems  to  have  been  used  first 
by  Jeremy  Bentham.  Apparently  he  wished  to 
distinguish  by  it  between  duty  and  the  principles 
of  morals  and  legislation — which  is  the  subject  of 
an  earlier  work,  dealing  with  the  principles  that 
men  had  to  assume  in  their  relations  to  each 
other.  In  deontology  he  evidently  had  in  mind 
the  principles  of  duty  as  distinct  from  those  of 
prudence  and  interest.  The  work  by  this  name, 
however,  was  posthumous,  and  was  incomplete 
before  his  death.  The  term  has  not  come  into 
general  usage.  It  serves,  however,  the  purpose  of 
distinguishing  clearly  between  the  science  of  mere 
custom  and  the  science  of  obligation.  The  one 
studies  actual  practices  ;  the  other  tries  to  ascertain 
the  actions  which  ought  to  be  performed  as  dis- 
tinguished from  those  that  may  actually  be  done. 
James  H.  Hyslop. 

DEOPRAYAG  (Skr.  deva-prayaga,  '  the  divine 
place  of  sacrifice'). — A  village  in  the  Garhwal 
District  of  the  United  Provinces  of  India,  situated 
in  lat.  30°  10'  N.,  long.  78°  37'  E.,  at  the  con- 
fluence of  the  rivers  Alaknanda  (q.v.)  and  Bhagi- 
rathl.  Below  the  village  the  streams  now  united 
take  the  name  of  Ganges  [q.v.),  and  this  is  re- 
garded as  one  of  the  five  sacred  places  of  pilgrim- 
age on  the  way  to  the  higher  Himalayan  peaks. 
The  principal  temple  is  dedicated  to  Ramaehandra. 
It  is  built  of  large  blocks  of  cut  stone  piled  on  each 
other,  bulging  in  the  middle  and  decreasing  rapidly 
towards  the  summit,  which  is  surmounted  by  a 
white  cupola.  Over  all  is  a  square  sloping  roof, 
composed  of  plates  of  copper,  crowned  above  with 
a  golden  ball  and  spire.  The  image  of  the  god, 
about  six  feet  high,  carved  in  black  stone,  but 
painted  red  except  the  face,  is  seated  opposite  the 
door,  and  under  the  eastern  portion  of  the  cupola. 
Before  the  idol  is  a  brazen  image  of  Garuda,  the 
mythical  vulture,  half  man,  half  bird,  on  which 
Visnu  rides.  The  chief  rite  at  this  holy  place  is 
ablution,  which  takes  place  at  the  sacred  con- 
fluence of  the  two  rivers,  in  basins  excavated  in 
the  rock  at  a  level  a  little  lower  than  the  surface 
of  the  current,  which  is  here  so  rapid  as  to  sweep 
away  any  person  daring  to  bathe  in  it. 

Literature. — Atkinson,  Himalayan  Gazetteer,  iii.  [1886] 
199  ff.  W.  CROOKE. 

DEPRAVITY.— See  Holiness  and  Sin. 

DERVISH  (darvnsh). — A  Pers.  word  signifying 
'mendicant'  (corresponding  with  bhilcsu,  the  name 
borne  by  the  Brahman  in  the  fourth  stage  of  his 
existence),  applied,  in  Persian  and  Turkish  and 
thence  in  European  languages,  to  the  ascetics  of 
Islam,  whose  Arab,  name  is  zdhid,  which  appears 
to  mean  originally  '  satisfied  with  a  little,'  in  ac- 


642 


DERVISH 


cordanee  with  the  usage  of  this  phrase  in  the 
Qur'an  (xii.  20).  Its  connotation  does  not  appear 
to  differ  from  that  of  sufi  (q.v.),  '  wearer  of  wool,' 
a  term  applied  by  the  early  Islamic  writer  Jahiz 
(t  A.H.  255  [  =  A.D.  868],  Hayawan,  i.  103)  both  to 
those  Muslim  ascetics  and  to  Christian  monks,  who, 
in  order  to  indulge  their  laziness,  pretend  to  dis- 
approve of  labour  and  wage-earning,  and  make 
their  mendicity  a  means  of  obtaining  the  reverence 
of  their  fellows.  Most  Muslims,  indeed,  take  a 
less  cynical  view  of  the  ascetic,  who  is  supposed 
to  abandon  his  possessions  before  taking  to  the 
mendicant  life,  in  the  belief  that  they  stand  be- 
tween him  and  the  attainment  of  the  higher  life. 
And,  though  many  dervishes  are  mendicants,  this 
is  by  no  means  the  case  with  all ;  the  bulk  of  the 
members  of  Orders  belong  to  the  labouring  and 
trading  classes.  In  Arab,  literature  the  name  first 
occurs  (in  the  form  daryush)  as  the  epithet  of  one 
Khalid,  who  in  the  year  A.H.  201  (  =  A.D.  816)  en- 
deavoured to  organize  the  citizens  of  Baghdad  for 
the  suppression  of  anarchy.  In  Pers.  literature  of 
the  5th  and  6th  cents.,  and  even  later,  the  dervish 
is  a  holy  man  who  has  overcome  the  world ;  and 
in  S.  Arabia  it  is  said  to  be  used  in  the  sense  of 
shaikh  as  a  term  of  dignity.  In  general,  we  may 
distinguish  between  sufl  and  dervish  as  between 
theory  and  practice ;  the  former  holds  a  certain 
philosophical  doctrine,  the  latter  practises  a  par- 
ticular form  of  life.  The  latter  is  called  in  some 
countries  by  the  Arab,  name  faqir,  'poor  man' 
(plur.  fuqara) ;  to  those  who  are  members  of  asso- 
ciations the  name  khwdn,  for  ikhwan  ('brethren'), 
is  sometimes  applied. 

The  practice  of  asceticism,  and  the  wearing  of 
wool  in  indication  of  it,  are,  of  course,  as  early  as 
the  time  of  Muhammad,  and  far  earlier  ;  according 
to  the  most  authentic  accounts,  the  Prophet  him- 
self gave  little  encouragement  to  asceticism,  which 
rarely  suits  the  plans  of  statesmen  and  warriors. 
But  the  notion  of  religious  exercises  in  addition  to 
those  prescribed  by  the  ordinary  ritual,  culminat- 
ing in  ecstasy,  meets  us  early  in  the  history  of 
Islam ;  and  with  this  went  theories  of  states  and 
stages  in  the  religious  life  which  belong  to  the 
subject  of  Sufiism. 

It  is  not  till  the  6th  cent,  of  Islam  that  we  hear 
of  actual  Orders  of  ascetics ;  attempts  which  are 
made  to  trace  them  further  back  are  mythological. 
In  the  6th  cent. ,  however,  they  commenced,  and  in 
the  7th  they  are  familiar.  The  unity  of  an  Order 
is  constituted  by  a  special  form  of  devotion,  where- 
by its  members  endeavour  to  induce  what  spiritual- 
ists call  'the  superior  condition' ;  it  usually  consists 
in  the  repetition  of  religious  formulae,  especially  the 
first  article  of  the  Muslim  creed,  and  each  Order 
has  its  dhikr,  as  this  process  is  called ;  other  reli- 
gious exercises  of  the  same  sort  bear  the  titles  wird 
and  hizb. 

The  first  founder  of  an  Order  is  supposed  to  have 
been  'Abd  al-Qadir  (q.v.)  of  Jilan,  who  died  A.H. 
561  (  =  A.D.  1166) ;  but  that  founded  by  Ahmad  al- 
Rifai,  who  died  A.H.  578  (  =  A.D.  1182),  was  nearly 
contemporaneous.  Of  both  these  persons  we  pos- 
sess biographies,  and,  indeed,  in  the  case  of  the 
former  a  series  of  works,  chiefly  homiletic  in  char- 
acter. In  general,  the  founders  of  Orders  are  his- 
torical personages  ;  some  have  left  works,  and  in 
other  cases  there  are  authoritative  treatises,  reveal- 
ing the  mysteries  of  the  Order,  though,  perhaps, 
in  most  cases  these  can  only  be  acquired  through 
oral  instruction,  and  by  persons  who  have  under- 
gone probation. 

The  founding  of  Orders  has  gone  on  steadily 
since  the  6th  cent,  of  Islam ;  and  their  enumera- 
tion is  no  easy  matter,  since  it  is  difficult  to  dis- 
tinguish between  independent  and  branch  Orders. 
Von   Hammer  enumerated  36,  of  which  12  were 


supposed  to  have  existed  before  the  rise  of  the 
Ottoman  empire,  and  24  to  have  sprung  up  after 
that  event ;  the  former  number  includes  some  that 
are  mythical,  whereas  the  latter  is  too  small.  The 
most  interesting,  in  some  ways,  is  the  Bektashi 
Order,  which  appears  to  be  a  syncretism  of  Islam 
with  Christianity,  and  which  (according  to  G. 
Jacob,  who  has  made  a  special  study  of  it)  retains 
many  vestiges  of  Christian  doctrines  and  rites. 
Next  after  this  comes  the  Nakshabandl,  which  is 
wide-spread ;  the  Maulawiyyah,  Rifa'iyyah,  and 
'Isawiyyah  also  play  important  r61es,  while  some 
political  importance  is  ascribed  to  the  Malamiyyah. 
In  certain  provinces  of  the  Ottoman  empire  there 
is  a  shaikh  al-turuq,  or  head  of  the  Orders,  who  is 
responsible  to  the  Government  for  their  conduct. 

The  acts  which  enter  into  the  life  of  the  member 
of  an  Order  are  in  part  disciplinary,  in  part  devo- 
tional. The  devotional  acts  take  the  form  of  a 
service,  called  hadrah,  which  with  certain  com- 
munities is  daily,  with  others  weekly;  probably 
the  form  which  it  most  commonly  takes  is  that  of 
the  repetition  of  formula?,  especially  la  ilaha  ilia 
'llahu,  a  vast  number  of  times  with  various  differ- 
ences of  intonation,  occasionally  to  the  sound  of 
music ;  elaborate  rules  are  given  in  some  of  the 
books  belonging  to  the  Orders,  regulating  the 
bodily  motions  which  should  accompany  the  pro- 
duction of  each  syllable,  gadrahs  familiar  to 
visitors  to  the  Nearer  East  are  those  of  the  Mau- 
lawi  dervishes  in  Pera,  who  move  in  circles  to  the 
accompaniment  of  music ;  of  the  Rifa'i  dervishes  in 
Scutari,  who,  first  sitting,  and  then  standing  on 
their  right  and  left  feet  alternately,  and  bending 
sideways,  repeat  the  formula  of  the  Unity.  The 
same  may  be  seen  in  Cairo.  At  the  service  of 
the  Jahriyyah  dervishes  in  Tashkent,  visited  by 
Schuyler  (Turkistan,  New  York,  1876,  i.  158-161), 
the  repetition  of  the  formulas  was  accompanied 
by  a  violent  movement  of  the  head  over  the  left 
shoulder  towards  the  heart,  then  back,  then  to 
the  right  shoulder,  then  down,  as  if  directing  all 
movements  to  the  heart.  Indeed,  the  directions 
in  the  books  of  the  sects  imply  the  use  of  the  heart 
in  pronouncing  the  formula  of  the  Unity,  though 
the  process  seems  scarcely  intelligible.  In  most  of 
the  performances  the  motions  gradually  accelerate 
as  they  proceed,  and  different  forms  of  ecstasy  have 
a  tendency  to  be  produced. 

Besides  these  services,  various  forms  of  discipline 
are  prescribed  to  neophytes  in  many  of  the  Orders. 
One  of  these  is  '  solitude,'  khalwah,  a  discipline  of 
the  Khalwatis,  who  are  called  thereafter,  and  who 
are  ordered  to  recite  long  prayers  in  complete  soli- 
tude, for  which  cells  are  provided  in  the  monasteries 
(called  takiyyah,  or  zawiyah).  With  the  Maulawls 
the  aspirant  has,  it  is  said,  to  serve  1001  days  iD 
the  kitchen  of  the  Order.  With  some  other  Orders 
the  discipline  consists,  like  the  devotion,  in  trials 
of  the  power  to  recite  the  formula  of  the  Unity  a 
vast  number  of  times  with  the  least  expenditure 
of  breath,  and  promotion  is  made  dependent  on  the 
attainment  of  a  certain  standard  in  this  matter. 

The  members  of  the  Orders  are  also  distinguished 
by  certain  peculiarities  in  their  attire,  whether  in 
shape,  substance,  or  colour.  Great  importance  is 
attached  to  the  head-gear,  and  the  number  of  tark, 
or  gores,  of  which  it  is  composed.  This  word  in 
Arabic  signifies  '  abandoning,'  and  the  number  is 
said  to  symbolize  the  number  of  worldly  vanities 
abandoned  by  the  dervish.  Some  Orders  wear 
gaiters ;  some  carry  stones  in  their  belts,  said  to 
signify  hunger  ;  the  Maulawls  are  distinguished  by 
a  wide  skirt  (worn  at  their  services)  called  tannur, 
'  oven,'  indicative  of  the  oven  of  misfortune  whence 
the  head  has  been  withdrawn. 

1  The  sheikhs  of  the  Orders  wear  robes  of  green  or  white  cloth ; 
and  anv  of  those  who  in  winter  line  them  with  fur  use  that  kind 


DESCARTES 


643 


called  petit  gris  and  zibeline  marten.  Few  dervishes  use  cloth 
for  their  dress.  Black  or  white  felt  called  'abd,  such  as  is  made 
in  some  of  the  cities  of  Anatolia,  is  most  usual.  .  .  .  Generally 
all  the  dervishes  allow  their  beards  and  mustachios  to  grow. 
Some  of  the  Orders  still  wear  long  hair '  (J.  P.  Brown,  The 
Dervishes,  p.  214). 
On  the  tombs  of  some  of  them  are  mystic  signs. 

In  general,  the  dervishes  are  credited  with  mystic 
powers,  and  as  early  as  the  7th  cent,  of  Islam  we 
are  informed  of  various  wonders  which  the  Rifa'Is 
could  perform  :  they  could  eat  living  serpents  and 
go  into  burning  furnaces,  of  which  they  extin- 
guished the  fire.  Some  of  their  wonders  seem  to 
have  puzzled  Lane,  the  author  of  Modern  Egyptians 
(London,  1846).  Oman,  in  his  work  on  the  Muslims 
of  India  (Brahmans,  Theists,  and  Muslims  of  India, 
London,  1907,  p.  323  ff. ),  describes  a  fire-bath  under- 
gone by  a  Sayyid,  trusting  to  the  power  of  Husain  ; 
he  had  apparently  taken  care  to  drench  his  feet  with 
water  before  walking  over  the  coals,  but  those  who 
attempted  to  do  it,  not  knowing  how,  were  severely 
burned.  Other  travellers  who  have  witnessed  these 
miracles  can  often  give  an  explanation :  the  ser- 
pents with  which  the  'Isawls  play  have  their  venom 
removed  ;  similarly,  in  the  ceremony  of  the  Doseh, 
practised  by  the  Egyptian  Sa'dis,  whose  shaikh  rode 
over  the  backs  of  the  devotees,  it  appears  that  the 
horse  had  been  carefully  trained,  and  it  was  arranged 
that  he  should  step  nowhere  where  serious  injury 
could  result.  It  is,  of  course,  possible  that  in  some 
of  these  cases  there  is  no  conscious  imposture,  and 
hypnotism  accounts  for  anything  that  is  wonder- 
ful ;  but  in  many  places  the  holy  man  appears  to 
be  a  low  form  of  conjurer.  The  biographies  of  the 
founders  of  the  Orders  have  a  tendency  to  embody 
many  manifestations  of  supernatural  power ;  but  it 
is  probable  that,  like  those  admitted  into  the  lives 
of  Christian  saints,  they  are  thought  to  be  edifying 
rather  than  historical. 

The  Orders  of  dervishes  seem  at  an  early  period 
to  have  acquired  a  definite  form  of  organization, 
of  which  the  nucleus  is  the  zawiyah,  or  '  retreat '  ; 
such  a  place  is  usually  built  by  or  for  the  founder 
of  the  Order,  and  is  inherited  by  his  successors, 
who  in  most  cases  are  his  actual  heirs.  As  the 
Order  spreads,  other  zawiyahs  are  erected,  which, 
however,  maintain  a  filial  relation  to  the  parent 
institution ;  i.e.  the  presidents  of  the  former  are 
appointed  from  the  latter.  The  name  shaikh  is 
properly  applied  exclusively  to  the  founder  of  the 
Order ;  his  successors  are  khalifs,  i.e.  'substitutes' ; 
it  was  on  this  principle  that  the  successor  of  the 
Sudanese  Mahdi  was  known  in  Europe  as  the 
Khalif.  The  non-official  members  of  the  Order 
are  called  *  disciples '  (talabah  or  muridun).  The 
head  of  a  dependent  zdwiyah  is  called  muqaddam ; 
the  revenues  are  in  charge  of  a  trustee,  or  ivakil. 

Membership  of  an  Order  does  not  necessarily 
interfere  with  the  normal  duties  of  life ;  the  der- 
vishes of  Egypt  are  said  to  belong  mainly  to  the 
class  of  small  shopkeepers.  The  performances  are 
thought,  however,  by  some  observers  to  have  a 
tendency  to  produce  insanity,  or,  at  any  rate,  nerv- 
ous affections.  Begging  is  in  theory  forbidden  by 
some  Orders,  but  is  usually  permitted,  and  certain 
dervishes  carry  a  bowl  or  wallet  for  the  purpose. 

French  writers  hold  that  the  underlying  idea  of 
most  of  the  Orders  is  the  reclamation  of  the  Islamic 
world,  and  the  eventual  expulsion  of  Europeans 
at  least  from  Asia  and  Africa ;  whereas  another 
suggestion,  which  is  perhaps  nearer  the  truth,  is 
that  they  are  all  in  origin  revivalist,  not  so  much 
with  the  object  of  injuring  Europeans  as  with  that 
of  increasing  the  faith  of  Muslims.  Some  system- 
atic classifications  of  the  Orders  we  owe  to  a  number 
of  French  writers,  partly  employed  by  the  French 
Government  to  investigate  this  important  element 
in  their  African  possessions. 

Literature.— J.  P.  Brown,  The  Dervishes,  London,  1868; 
K.  le  Chatelier,  Les  Cov-fr^ries  musulrnanes  du  Hedjaz,  Paris, 


1887 ;  L.  Rinn,  Marabouts  et  Khouan,  Algiers,  1884 ;  O.  Depont 
and  X.  Coppolani,  Les  Confriries  religieuses  miisulmanes, 
Algiers,  1897 ;  G.  Jacob,  Die  Bektaschijje,  Munich,  1909 
(ABAW,  1  Kl.  xxiv.  iii.);  Taufiq  al-Bakrl,  Bait  al-$iddii 
(Arabic),  Cairo,  1323  A.H.  D.  S.  MARGOLIOUTH. 

DESCARTES.— I.  Life  and  writings.— Rene 
Descartes  was  born  on  31st  March  1596.  It  seems 
to  be  well  established,  in  spite  of  rival  claims, 
that  the  place  of  his  birth  was  La  Haye,  in 
Touraine,  not  far  from  Poitiers.  At  eight  years 
of  age  he  was  sent  to  the  famous  College  of  La 
Fleche,  recently  established  by  the  Jesuit  fathers 
and  endowed  by  King  Henry  IV.  The  eight  years 
passed  at  La  Heche  had  a  profound  influence  on 
Descartes'  future  life,  and  he  always  spoke  of  his 
instructors  with  the  deepest  gratitude.  After 
leaving  school,  young  Descartes,  who  was  pro- 
vided with  a  moderate  competency  from  his  father, 
proceeded  to  travel,  though  he  first  of  all  spent 
some  time  in  Paris,  where  he  found  his  lifelong 
friend  Pere  Mersenne,  who  had  been  seven  years 
his  senior  at  La  Fleche.  On  the  commencement  of 
the  Thirty  Years'  War,  Descartes  volunteered  for 
service  with  Prince  Maurice  of  Nassau,  then  in 
Holland.  But,  while  serving  as  an  unpaid  soldier, 
he  did  not  lay  aside  his  studies,  and,  indeed,  at 
this  time  wrote  certain  fragmentary  works,  most 
of  which  are  lost,  such  as  Reflexions  entitled 
Cogitationes  Privates — discovered  comparatively 
lately  in  the  Library  at  Hanover.  Amongst  these 
early  works  may  also  be  mentioned  the  Com- 
pendium Musical,  which  was  not  intended  for 
publication,  but  was  brought  to  light  after  its 
author's  death.  Of  those  enumerated  in  an  in- 
ventory found  after  Descartes'  death  are  :  (1)  Some 
Considerations  on  the  Sciences ;  (2)  a  paper  on 
Algebra ;  (3)  reflexions  called  Democritica ;  (4) 
observations  entitled  Experimenta ;  (5)  a  treatise 
begun  under  the  name  of  Prozambula :  Initium 
sapiential  timor  Domini ;  and  (6)  another  called 
Olympica.  Descartes'  biographer,  Baillet,  who 
wrote  very  soon  after  his  death,  mentions  yet  an- 
other work  entitled  Studium  Bona!  Mentis,  which 
was  addressed  to  a  friend, — very  probably  Mer- 
senne,— and  which  was  largely  biographical.  In 
the  Cogitationes  he  tells  of  his  '  conversion '  in 
the  year  1619,  when  with  the  army  in  its  winter 
quarters  at  Neuberg,  on  the  Danube.  Smitten 
with  remorse  for  sins  committed,  he  resolved  to 
follow  after  the  ways  of  Truth,  and  also  to  make  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  shrine  of  Our  Lady  of  Loretto. 

Descartes,  on  quitting  Maurice's  army,  volun- 
teered to  serve  with  Maximilian,  Duke  of  Bavaria, 
and  chief  of  the  great  Catholic  League,  in  his 
warfare  with  Frederick,  the  Elector  Palatine,  who 
had  been  crowned  at  Prague  in  1619.  But,  as  far 
as  we  can  judge,  the  young  soldier  was  much  more 
occupied  with  his  speculations  than  with  the  pro- 
fession which  he  had  taken  up.  Indeed,  it  seems 
very  doubtful  whether  he  actually  fought  at  the 
battle  of  Prague,  which  decided  the  Elector 
Frederick's  fortunes.  With  the  Elector  his  chil- 
dren fled,  and,  curiously  enough,  one  of  them  was 
Elizabeth,  just  four  years  old,  Descartes'  future 
correspondent  and  friend.  During  these  excit- 
ing years  the  events  took  place  which  are  so 
well  described  in  the  biographical  portion  of  the 
Method,  where  Descartes  tells  of  the  mental 
struggle  through  which  he  passed  in  making  up 
his  mind  as  to  the  course  he  was  to  pursue  in  his 
future  life.  It  was  at  this  time  that  he  decided 
to  sweep  away  the  opinions  which  up  to  that  time 
he  had  embraced,  so  that  he 

'  might  afterwards  be  in  a  position  to  admit  either  others  more 
correct,  or  even  perhaps  the  same  when  they  had  undergone  the 
Bcrutiny  of  Reason.'  '  I  firmly  believed,'  he  said,  '  that  in  thia 
way  I  should  much  better  succeed  in  the  conduct  of  my  life, 
than  if  I  built  only  upon  old  foundations,  and  leant  upon  prin- 
ciples which  in  my  youth  I  had  taken  on  trust.' 


644 


DESCARTES 


After  the  battle  of  Prague,  Descartes  joined  the 
Bavarian  army  once  more  ;  but  it  was  not  long 
before  he  gave  up  military  service  and  started  upon 
his  travels.  After  nine  years'  absence  he  returned 
to  Paris,  where  he  was  accused  of  favouring  the 
secret  society  known  as  the  Rosicrucians.  Des- 
cartes' father  put  him  in  possession  of  the  property 
to  which  he  was  entitled,  and  he  found  himself  in 
consequence  in  easy  circumstances.  He  started  off 
on  further  travels  almost  at  once,  and  made  his 
way  to  Switzerland  and  then  to  Italy,  where  he 
redeemed  his  promise  of  making  a  pilgrimage  to 
Loretto.  On  his  return  journey  he  made  scientific 
investigations  in  regard  to  the  height  of  Mont 
Cenis.  Once  more  he  returned  to  Paris ;  and  he 
is  said  to  have  set  aside  a  former  inclination  for  the 
gaming  table,  and  applied  himself  to  serious  re- 
flexion. Finally,  he  decided  to  settle  in  Holland, 
where  he  believed  peace  and  quiet  as  well  as  liberty 
of  conscience  were  to  be  had. 

In  1636,  Descartes  determined  at  last  to  publish, 
and  the  book  known  as  The  Method  of  rightly 
conducting  the  Reason  and  seeking  Truth  in  the 
Sciences  appeared,  along  with  the  Dioptric,  Meteors, 
and  Geometry,  termed  '  Essays  in  this  Method.' 
It  was  written  in  French,  unlike  many  otherB  of 
his  recent  treatises,  in  order  that  it  might  be  read 
by  any  of  his  countrymen  who  chose  to  do  so.  Its 
conclusions  had  long  been  cogitated,  and  they 
express  the  mature  result  arrived  at  by  one  who 
desired  to  know  not  only  what,  but  also  why,  he 
believed.  It  is  a  simple  and  sincere  record  of  per- 
sonal experience,  a  '  Pilgrim's  Progress '  of  the 
human  soul.  It  was  not  the  first  important  book 
written  by  Descartes.  Of  extant  treatises  we  have 
the  Regulce  ad  directionem  ingenii,  written  almost 
certainly  during  his  earlier  life,  but  left  incom- 
plete, and  also  a  treatise  called  Le  Monde,  which 
was  never  published  ;  but  the  Method  has  a  place 
possessed  by  no  other  of  Descartes'  works  in  the 
estimation  of  posterity. 

Descartes'  next  work  was  almost  equally  famous, 
Meditations  on  the  First  Philosophy.  The  Medita- 
tions is  a  study  of  Truth  in  its  highest  aspect.  It 
is  not,  like  the  Method,  a  charming  biography  and 
philosophy  of  life  :  it  is  a  more  profound  study 
of  the  facts  of  existence,  and  an  exposition  of 
Descartes'  system  in  all  its  fullness.  In  this  book 
he  deals  with  the  great  question  of  Philosophic 
Doubt  that  was  always  in  his  mind,  and  discusses 
its  relationship  to  true  Knowledge.  He  asked  for 
criticism,  and  found  plenty  of  opposition  to  his 
views.  There  were  in  all  seven  formal '  Objections ' 
collected  from  men  distinguished  in  their  several 
lines,  and  these  '  Objections '  were  dealt  with 
seriatim  by  the  author. 

The  first  '  Objection  *  was  by  Caterus,  a  Dutch  theologian 
and  an  appreciative  reader,  who  represented  the  standpoint  of 
the  Church ;  the  second  and  sixth  were  collected  from  various 
sources,  and  represent  the  point  of  view  of  '  common  sense ' ; 
the  third  is  by  Hobbes.  By  him,  as  by  Gassendi,  the  fifth 
objector,  we  have  the  materialistic  or  '  sensational '  standpoint 
clearly  set  forth,  and  in  his  reply  Descartes  gives  an  interesting 
exposition  of  the  Cartesian  idealism,  which  he  opposes  to  that 
doctrine.  Arnauld,  the  fourth  author  of  *  Objections,'  on  the 
other  hand,  is  by  no  means  so  hostile  as  Hobbes  and  Gassendi, 
and  to  him  Descartes  replies  with  suavity  and  consideration. 
He  is  simply  concerned  about  the  application  of  Cartesian  prin- 
ciples to  the  doctrines  of  theology  and  morality.  His  sympathies 
are  with  St.  Augustine,  and  he  holds  that  we  must  believe  what 
we  cannot  know.  The  last  'Objections,'  by  the  Jesnit  father 
Bourdin,  are  too  elaborate  for  us  in  these  days  to  follow  with 
interest.  The  '  Objections  and  Replies '  are,  however,  deserving 
of  perusal,  since  they  present  very  clearly  the  difficulties  that 
occur  in  accepting  Descartes'  doctrine,  and  the  arguments  that 
may  be  used  in  their  defence. 

The  next  treatise  written  by  Descartes  was  the 
Principles  of  Philosophy,  published  in  Latin  in  the 
year  1644.  In  this  book  its  author  enunciates  the 
same  doctrines  that  he  set  forth  in  the  Method  and 
the  Meditations.  He  praises  his  mistress  Philo- 
sophy in  no  stinted  terms.     '  Philosophy  is  like  a 


tree  of  which  Metaphysics  is  the  root,  Physics  the 
trunk,  and  all  the  other  sciences  the  branches  that 
grow  out  of  the  trunk.'  But,  having  once  more 
established  his  ground-work,  he  goes  on  to  deal 
with  the  general  principles  of  Physics,  with  the 
nature  of  body,  the  laws  of  motion,  the  phenomena 
of  the  heavens,  and  all  pertaining  thereto.  He 
sets  forth  his  theory  of  vortices,  discusses  the 
Ptolemaic  and  Copernican  systems,  and  that  other 
which  he  more  or  less  favoured,  the  system  of 
Tycho  Brahe.  He  also  discusses  the  nature  of 
springs,  tides,  etc.,  and  believes  that  the  principles 
of  geometry  and  mechanics  are  shown  to  be  capable 
of  supplying  a  satisfactory  key  to  all  the  pheno- 
mena of  Nature,  and  that  no  other  principles  can 
take  their  place.  Descartes'  theory  of  vortices  is 
especially  interesting.  He  represents  the  whole  of 
the  planetary  system  as  being  carried  round  the 
sun  in  a  sort  of  vortex,  while  the  various  satellites 
of  other  planets  move  in  lesser  vortices  within  this 
vortex ;  the  earth  is  in  a  sense  at  rest,  as  a  man 
might  be  at  rest  who  is  in  a  boat.  But,  while 
expounding  this  possible  doctrine,  the  writer  shows 
the  extremest  caution,  and  guards  himself  against 
the  suspicion  of  unorthodoxy  by  pointing  out  that 
he  is  merely  describing  what  might  be  termed  a 
'  working  theory  '  of  the  world. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  thought  that  Descartes 
was  merely  a  theorizer,  to  the  neglect  of  practical 
experiments.  In  Amsterdam  he  frequently  visited 
the  butchers'  shops  to  find  material  for  his  investi- 
gations in  anatomy,  and  physical  experiments 
were  constantly  being  made  by  him.  One  notable 
example  of  the  latter  is  to  be  found  in  the  famous 
experiments  made  upon  the  barometric  principle, 
on  the  mountain  Puy-de-D6me  in  Auvergne,  which 
were  carried  out  by  Pascal  and  his  brother-in-law 
Perier,  but  which,  it  seems  clear,  had  been  sug- 
gested by  Descartes. 

Descartes  had  many  controversies  during  his 
residence  in  Holland,  most  of  them  with  Protestant 
divines.  In  Utrecht,  Voetius,  Rector  of  the  Uni- 
versity, was  a  keen  antagonist,  and  Regius,  or 
Le  Roy,  was  first  of  all  a  supporter  and  then  an 
opponent.  Descartes  was  ever  ready  to  enter  upon 
these  controversies,  but  his  quarrels  sometimes 
ended  happily.  '  There  is  nothing  in  life  sweeter 
than  peace,'  he  is  reported  to  have  said ;  '  hatred 
can  be  useful  to  none ;  I  should  not  refuse  the 
friendship  even  of  Voetius  if  I  believed  it  to  be 
offered  in  good  faith.'  A  dispute  with  Fermat,  the 
mathematician,  was  a  famous  one,  and  it  was 
carried  on  by  his  followers  after  Descartes'  death. 

There  was  little  romance  in  the  philosopher's  life.  He  was 
never  married,  though  he  had  a  child  to  whom  he  was  devoted, 
and  who  died  young.  He  had,  however,  a  great  friendship, 
which  lasted  from  the  year  1640,  with  the  Princess  Elizabeth, 
known  as  the  '  Queen  of  Hearts,*  daughter  of  Frederick,  Elector 
Palatine,  and  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  James  n.  of  England. 
Princess  Elizabeth  was  then  living  at  The  Hague,  where 
her  parents  held  a  miniature  exile  court  with  their  lively  family 
of  boys  and  girls.  Descartes'  letters  to  the  young  Princess 
are  serious  in  tone,  and  nearly  all  are  on  philosophic  questions, 
to  which  Elizabeth  applied  her  mind  with  the  greatest  strenu- 
ousness,  and  to  good  effect,  for  her  questions  are  put  and 
her  criticisms  are  made  with  great  discrimination  and  under- 
standing. The  correspondence  is  very  interesting  to  students 
of  Cartesianism. 

Another  friendship  formed  by  Descartes  in  later  life  was  with 
Queen  Christina  of  Sweden,  the  daughter  of  the  great  Gustavus ; 
and  it  was  she  who  caused  him  to  travel  to  Sweden,  where  he 
met  his  death.  In  1648,  Descartes  had  visited  his  native  land  for 
the  last  time.  He  was  pressed  to  go,  but  when  he  arrived  he 
found  Paris  wholly  occupied  with  the  political  agitation  of  the 
Fronde  ;  and  all  he  could  say  of  those  who  invited  him  was  that 
he  *  would  regard  them  as  friends  who  had  bidden  him  to  dine 
with  them,  and  when  he  arrived  he  found  their  kitchen  in  dis- 
order and  their  saucepans  upset.'  When  Queen  Christina's 
invitation  to  Sweden  arrived  through  the  French  Ambassador 
Chanut,  Descartes'  inclination  was  to  refuse  it,  lest  misfortune 
should  befall  him  in  this  expedition  also.  However,  Queen  Chris- 
tina was  very  pressing,  and  Descartes'  admiration  for  her  was  un- 
bounded, so  that  at  length  he  consented  to  take  the  long  journey. 
First  of  all,  however,  he  had  to  see  that  his  latest  book,  the 
Passions  of  the  Soul,  which  was  written  to  prove  that  all  the 


DESCARTES 


645 


various  psychological  manifestations  may  be  rationally  explained 
by  purely  mechanical  causes,  was  safely  placed  for  publication 
in  Elzevir's  hands.  Then  he  left  the  '  dear  Bolitude  of  Efrmont ' 
for  his  new  home.  But  his  days  in  Stockholm  were  destined  to 
be  short.  The  exigeante  young  Queen  was  not  only  occupied  in 
endeavouring  to  establish  an  Academy  of  which  she  intended  to 
make  Descartes  director,  but  she  also  desired  to  be  instructed  in 
philosophy  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  Descartes  was  in  the 
habit  of  meditating  in  bed  until  late  in  the  day.  The  result  was 
what  might  have  been  anticipated  in  a  bitterly  cold  climate.  He 
fell  ill  of  an  inflammation  of  the  lungs  after  nursing  his  friend 
Chanut  through  the  same  illness,  and  he  died  on  11th  February 
1660,  at  the  age  of  fifty-four.  He  was  buried  at  Stockholm,  but 
later  on,  in  1666,  his  body  was  removed  with  considerable  diffi- 
culty to  Paris  and  laid  in  the  church  of  Ste.  Genevieve  du  Mont. 
In  1819  the  remains  were  removed  to  the  church  of  St.  Germain- 
des-Pres,  where  they  now  are.  Descartes  died  in  the  faith  of  his 
forefathers,  but  it  was  not  long  before  serious  suspicion  fell  upon 
his  teaching,  and  his  works  were  placed  upon  the  Index.  Cler- 
selier,  his  friend  and  one  of  the  translators  of  his  works,  who 
after  Descartes'  death  wrote  a  panegyric  on  his  virtues,  records 
that  amongst  his  last  words  were  these  : '  My  soul,  thou  hast  long 
been  held  captive  ;  the  hour  has  now  come  for  thee  to  quit  thy 
prison,  to  leave  the  trammels  of  this  body ;  suffer  then  this 
separation  with  joy  and  courage.' 

In  addition  to  the  works  mentioned  above,  there 
was  published  after  his  death  an  unfinished  work 
entitled  La  Recherche  de  la  vCriti  par  la  lumiere 
de  la  nature,  an  interesting  dialogue  upon  Car- 
tesian principles  between  three  friends  in  a  country 
house.  Another  very  short  work  is  his  Notes  in 
Programma,  which  was  written  in  refutation  of 
his  opponent  Regius  (Le  Roy). 

2.  System  of  philosophy. — It  is  true  in  more  than 
a  traditional  sense   that   Descartes  is  the  father 
of   Modern  Philosophy,   for  in   him  the   modern 
spirit  came  into  existence.     His  was  an  age  when 
[  men  were  confronted  with  the  new  conception  of 
I  Nature  and  of  man,  and  were  led  to  new  methods 
'i  of  investigation.     The  great  upheaval   which  we 
1  call  the  Reformation   brought  about  a  form  of 
i  individualism  which  ended  in  a  reaction  against 
j  the  new  standards — judged  to  be  as  arbitrary  as 
the  old.     But  the  real  work  of  the  Reformation 
had  already  been  brought  about  in  Protestant  and 
|  in  Roman   Catholic  alike.      Man    learned   to  be 
himself,  and  was  no  longer  restrained  by  artificial 
bonds.     The  spirit  of  investigation  was  everywhere, 
all  phenomena  of  Nature  were  of  interest,  and  all 
men  tried  to  obtain  exact  knowledge,  and  thereby 
to  strengthen  their  powers  of  originality  and  self- 
reliance.    The  17  th  century — the  century  in  which 
Descartes  lived— was  the  period  in  which  science 
became  a  reality,  and  in  which  the  scientific  spirit 
became  the  spirit  of  the  land.     Historically,  too, 
it  was  a  time  of  turmoil  and  change.     A  career  of 
bloodshed  on  the  part  of  the  House  of  Valois  had 
been  ended  by  the  assassination  of  Henry  III.,  and 
on  the  accession  of  Henry  IV.  religious  warfare 
was  brought  to  a  conclusion  :   his  death  was  an 
inexpressible  loss  to  the  French  nation. 

Descartes'  work  in  the  midst  of  this  time  of 
unrest  and  ferment  was  that  of  a  great  systematizer. 
He  took  all  those  new  ideas  that  had  come  into 
being  and  endeavoured  to  bring  them  into  a  definite, 
concrete,  and  comprehensible  system.  In  rejecting 
the  old  dogmas  of  the  Schools,  the  New  Learning 
came  to  provide  something  better  able  to  satisfy 
the  inquiring  mind  ;  it  brought  with  it  certainty 
of  its  own  results.  The  world  had  become  of  infi- 
nite importance  and  interest,  and  it  was  necessary 
that  the  knowledge  of  it,  and  also  the  knowledge 
of  man,  should  be  certain  and  definite.  The 
problem,  then,  that  Descartes  had  to  deal  with 
was  how  to  work  out  a  system  which  should 
reconcile  two  sides,  now  come  into  prominence — 
the  spiritual  and  the  physical,  the  soul  and  the 
body,  the  point  of  view  of  orthodoxy  and  the  point 
of  view  of  science ;  and  it  is  because  this  is  a 
modern  question  which  is  before  us  even  in  the 
present  day  that  the  Cartesian  philosophy  is  a 
modern  philosophy.  Descartes'  attempt  to  bring 
about  this  reconciliation  was  the  first  of  many  on 


similar  lines.  His  object  was  to  arrive  at  certainty 
— a  certainty  which  he  believed  could  be  reached 
only  by  following  definite  rules  laid  down  by  his 
Method,  and  by  beginning  with  the  Doubt  which 
is  the  absolute  essential  before  any  successful  quest 
after  Truth  is  made — '  de  omnibus  dubitandum  est,' 
as  he  expresses  it.  This  doubt  must  be  applied 
to  all  those  inherited  traditions  and  beliefs  which 
form,  to  his  mind,  a  mass  of  incongruous  opinions  ; 
we  must  ruthlessly  reject  what  cannot  be  justified 
to  ourselves  as  truth  ;  we  must  free  ourselves  from 
all  prejudice  and  uncertainty.  And  yet  this 
philosophic  doubt  is  in  nowise  scepticism,  but  the 
doubt  that  precedes  true  knowledge. 

Descartes  system  of  philosophy  was  thus,  above 
all,  a  method,  and  the  interesting  thing  about  this 
method  is  that  it  presented  itself  to  him  as  his  life- 
history  might.  1  he  order  of  his  experiences  was 
simply  the  order  of  his  method  writ  large.  This 
is  what  makes  the  immortal  little  book  called  by 
the  name  of  the  Method  a  masterpiece  of  spiritual 
biography,  as  an  account  of  moral  and  mental 
development,  as  it  is  also  a  masterpiece  of  direct 
and  simple  style.  It  was  in  his  quiet  room,  in 
that  cold  winter  with  the  army  on  the  Danube, 
that  Descartes  first  awoke  to  the  fact  that  man  is 
not  to  seek  happiness  here  or  there,  for  it  is  only 
to  be  found  within  him.  The  world  and  he,  the 
spirit  and  the  body,  mind  and  matter,  are  really 
one.  Traditions,  hypotheses,  assumptions  of  all 
kinds  should  go,  and  we  must  build  again  from  the 
foundation.  This  may  sound  easy,  but  nothing  is 
more  difficult,  and  in  Descartes'  opinion  there  are 
only  a  few  who  should  undertake  the  task,  and 
those  who  do  so  must  be  modest  and  ready  to 
accept  with  humility  what  is  given  them.  He 
then  states  certain  rules  to  be  followed — rules 
which  simply  make  for  accuracy  and  thoroughness 
of  thought :  '  Do  not  accept  what  is  not  clearly' 
known,  divide  your  difficulties  into  parts  so  far  as 
possible,  work  your  way  up  from  the  easy  to  the 
more  complicated— above  all,  omit  nothing.'  Such 
rules  would  seem  to  be  rules  of  common  sense,  but 
they  mean  an  accuracy  of  method  such  as  no 
immediately  preceding  philosophic  thinkers  had 
dreamed  of  as  necessary. 

Knowing  at  last  what  his  method  of  science 
must  be,  Descartes  boldly  attacks  the  great 
question  of  the  foundation  on  which  thought  is 
based.  On  what  does  all  this  reasoning  rest?  It 
rests  on  the  knowledge  of  self.  One  proposition 
alone  cannot  be  doubted  by  man,  and  that  is  that 
he  exists,  inferred  from  the  fact  that  he  possesses 
consciousness — Cogito  ergo  sum,  as  he  puts  it  in  his 
immortal  phrase.  Descartes  saw  clearly  that  in 
order  to  think  he  must  exist.  His  philosophy 
turned  on  the  fact  of  his  personal  existence.  The 
senses  may  indeed  mislead  us,  and  we  cannot  place 
absolute  confidence  in  what  has  even  sometimes 
deceived  us  ;  but,  however  much  I  may  have  been 
deceived,  the  fact  remains  that  I  am — I  as  a  think- 
ing being. 

'  I  had  the  persuasion  that  there  was  absolutely  nothing  in 
the  world,  that  there  was  no  sky,  no  earth,  neither  minds,  nor 
bodies ;  was  I  not,  therefore,  at  the  same  time  persuaded  that 
I  did  not  exist?  Far  from  it ;  I  assuredly  existed,  since  I  was 
persuaded.  But  there  is  I  know  not  what  being,  who  is  possessed 
at  once  of  the  highest  power  and  the  deepest  cunning,  who  is 
constantly  employing  all  his  ingenuity  in  deceiving  me.  Doubt- 
less, then,  I  exist,  since  I  am  deceived,  and  let  him  deceive  me 
as  he  may,  he  can  never  bring  it  about  that  I  am  nothing,  so 
long  as  I  shall  be  conscious  that  1  am  something.' 

This  is  clearly  a  great  step  forward  ;  it  signifies 
that  a  new  phase  in  philosophy  has  been  entered 
on,  a  change  of  front  as  great  as  the  Kantian 
transformation  of  a  later  date,  which  in  a  measure 
it  foreshadows.  '  I  think '  is  present  in  all  our 
ideas  and  even  in  doubt  itself.  We  are  brought 
back  from  the  external  and  unrelated  facts  of 
consciousness  to  the  basis  of  Truth  on  which  all 


646 


DESCARTES 


other  truth  is  founded.  We  have  arrived  at  the 
conception  of  thought  as  the  groundwork  of  all 
knowledge.  Further  on  in  the  Meditations  he  says 
that  in  thought  is  found  that  which  properly 
belongs  to  the  self. 

1  This  is  alone  inseparable  from  me.  I  am — I  exist ;  this  is 
certain  ;  but  bow  often?  As  often  as  I  think;  for  perhaps  it 
would  even  happen,  if  I  should  wholly  cease  to  think,  that  I 
should  at  the  same  time  cease  to  be.  I  now  admit  nothing  that 
is  not  necessarily  true  ;  I  am,  therefore,  precisely  speaking,  only 
a  thinking  being,  that  is,  a  mind  understanding  a  reason— terms 
whose  signification  was  before  unknown  to  me.' 

In  this  we  have  a  firm  foundation  on  which  we 
can  build,  setting  aside  the  old  disputations  of  the 
Schools  as  to  '  substances '  and  '  qualities.'  Under- 
standing or  reason  is  for  the  first  time  made  the 
basis  in  a  philosophic  comprehension  of  the  world 
as  it  presents  itself  to  us.  Descartes  says  that  the 
outside  world  is  not  perceived  in  its  true  significa- 
tion by  the  senses  or  imagination,  but  by  the  mind 
alone. 

'  They  [outside  things]  are  not  perceived,'  he  says,  '  because 
they  are  seen  and  touched,  but  only  because  they  are  under- 
stood,' that  is,  rightly  comprehended  by  thought.  '  I  readily 
discover,'  he  goes  on,  'that  there  is  nothing  more  clearly 
apprehended  than  my  own  mind.' 

Having  got  so  far,  he  goes  on  to  apply  his 
method  ;  he  shows  how,  when  the  mind  is  cleared 
of  all  preconceived  notions  and  prejudices,  what  is 
known  must  be  known  clearly  and  distinctly. 
This  signifies  that  we  must  now  apply  ourselves 
to  making  our  knowledge  absolutely  certain,  so 
that  we  may  be  sure  that  we  are  ascertaining  what 
is  truth. 

'  I  am  certain  that  I  am  a  thinking  thing,  but  do  I  not  there- 
fore know  what  is  required  to  render  me  certain  of  a  truth  ? 
In  the  first  knowledge  there  is  nothing  that  gives  me  assurance 
of  its  truth  except  the  clear  and  distinct  perception  of  what  I 
affirm,  which  would  not  indeed  be  sufficient  to  give  me  assurance 
that  what  I  say  is  true,  if  it  could  ever  happen  that  anything 
I  thus  clearly  and  distinctly  perceived  should  prove  false,  and, 
accordingly,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  may  now  take  as  a  general 
rule,  that  all  that  is  very  clearly  and  distinctly  apprehended  is 
true.' 

With  the  attitude  of  doubt  the  so-called  secondary 
qualities,  dependent  as  they  are  on  the  relations  of 
one  object  to  another  and  to  the  sentient  subject, 
are  naturally  first  brought  under  the  ban  of 
criticism.  These  qualities  do  not  appear  to  be 
fixed  in  any  object.  What  remains  secure  is, 
however,  what  possesses  the  two  attributes  of 
extension  and  capacity  of  motion ;  and  hence 
Descartes  appeals  to  the  truths  of  the  mathematical 
sciences.  Even  they,  however,  might  be  false ; 
some  malevolent  being  may  be  all  the  while 
deceiving  us  in  what  we  accept  as  truth.  Hence 
we  must  reject  even  these  apparent  truths  and  fall 
back  upon  our  own  minds.  Here  again  we  find 
modes  of  consciousness  in  feeling,  willing,  imagin- 
ing, etc. ,  '  so  that  I  must  also  abstract  from  these 
and  concentrate  upon  myself  as  I  am,  without 
borrowing  in  any  way  from  elsewhere.'  In  this 
way  we  reach  Descartes'  thinking  substance,  which, 
as  he  points  out,  is  present  and  is  affirmed,  even  as 
it  denies  or  doubts  ;  and  on  the  other  hand  we  have 
the  external  object  as  extension. 

Descartes  maintains  that  amongst  the  ideas  that 
are  clear  and  distinct  we  must  recognize  that  of 
God  as  a  Perfect  Being  of  whom  we  have  a  clear 
and  distinct  conception.  The  idea  of  God  cannot, 
he  says,  be  derived  from  our  limited  existence  ;  its 
origin  must  be  in  one  who  contains  all  in  Himself. 
From  the  idea  of  perfection  he  infers  the  existence 
of  it  in  God  as  its  originator.  The  idea  of  perfection 
involves  existence ;  and  this  is  the  so-called  onto- 
logical  argument  which  is  so  frequently  brought 
forward  by  later  philosophers.  But,  if  such  a  God 
exists,  we  have  a  guarantee  that  we  cannot  be 
deceived,  for  such  a  perfect  Being  could  not  deceive 
us,  and  therefore  we  may  accept  the  teaching  of 
our  consciousness.  The  errors  of  the  atheists — no 
small  class  at  the  time,  if  Mersenne  is  to  be 
believed — are  by  Descartes  said  to  be  due  to  their 


anthropological  ways  of  looking  at  God,  and  to 
their  forgetting  the  fact  that,  while  men's  minds 
are  finite,  God  is  infinite. 

It  is  thus  evident  that  Descartes  considered  that 
in  his  essence  man  is  a  thinking  and  unextended 
being  who  has  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  body 
as  an  extended  and  unthinking  thing,  and  thus 
that  man  as  mind  is  absolutely  distinct  from  body, 
and  may  exist  without  it.  It  is  this  dualistic 
conception  of  mind  and  body  that  constitutes  the 
difficulty  in  forming  any  adequate  conception  of 
the  universe  according  to  Cartesian  principles. 
The  question  arises  as  to  how  we  can  possibly 
reconcile  the  two  sides— the  outside  world,  or 
extension,  as  Descartes  called  it,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  intelligence,  or  Thought,  on  the  other — for  the 
qualities  of  the  object  are  reduced  to  bare  extension, 
and  those  of  the  subject  to  bare  thought.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  Descartes  introduced  this  new  view 
of  the  outside  world  as  extended,  that  is,  as  that 
which  occupies  space  and  has  length,  breadth,  and 
depth  ;  and  it  was  to  this  extension  that  he  applied 
the  mathematical  reasoning  for  which  his  name  is 
famous.  And  confronting  it  we  have  the  In- 
telligence, Thought,  or  Reason  which  apprehends 
this  external  matter.  This  is  also  a  profound 
philosophic  conception.  But  the  difficulty  comes 
when  we  try  to  explain  how  the  one  side  acts  upon 
the  other.  We  have  before  us  two  entities,  one  of 
which  is  passive  and  inert,  and  yet  is  acted  on  by 
a  unifying  intelligence  endowing  it  with  those 
relationships  which  make  it  comprehensible  by  us  ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  we  have  the  mind,  whicli 
is  wholly  immaterial  and  spiritual.  How  is  the 
transference  effected  from  the  natural  to  the 
spiritual?  How  does  the  physical  action  convey 
anything  to  the  perceiving  mind  ?  Doubtless  there 
was  in  Descartes'  mind  a  solution  of  the  difficulty. 
He  would  have  considered  that  there  is  a  unity  to 
be  found  in  thought ;  but,  if  this  is  so,  the  idea  is 
by  no  means  clearly  worked  out.  Indeed  we  have 
but  intimations  of  it  which  are  only  comprehended 
in  the  light  of  later  developments  in  thought.  The 
mind  is  conscious  of  the  infinite  as  having  in  it 
more  reality  than  the  finite  substance. 

'  Our  consciousness  of  God  is  prior  to  our  consciousness  of 
self.  For  how  could  we  doubt  or  desire,  how  could  we  be 
conscious  that  anything  is  wanting  to  us,  and  that  we  are  not 
altogether  perfect,  if  we  had  not  in  ourselves  the  idea  of  a 
Perfect  Being  in  comparison  with  whom  we  recognize  the 
defects  of  our  nature?' 

Though  there  is  no  doubt  that  Descartes'  system 
was  a  dualistic  one,  the  progress  made  by  him  in 
his  search  after  truth  was  immense.  He  took 
knowledge  as  the  one  great  and  important  fact, 
and  sought  out  its  elements  as  best  he  could.  He 
played  a  notable  part  in  the  great  discovery  which 
meant  so  much  in  his  age,  that  the  world  is 
governed  by  law.  It  has  been  said  of  him  that 
'  he  established  liberty  of  mind  and  sovereignty  of 
reason.'  In  his  writings  he  brought  the  whole  of 
Nature  within  the  reign  of  law,  and  showed  how 
both  the  starry  heavens  and  the  earth  beneath  are 
governed  by  the  same  inevitable  physical  law.  He 
showed  also  how  such  views  are  consistent  with  a 
philosophic  outlook.  Perhaps  one  of  his  greatest 
claims  to  our  gratitude  rests  on  his  work  in 
Mathematics  (see  below),  that  is  to  say,  not  in  his 
well-known  discoveries  in  Geometry  and  in  the 
development  of  the  application  of  Algebra  to  the 
solution  of  Geometrical  problems,  important  as 
these  might  be,  but,  in  the  large  sense  of  the  term, 
in  his  scientific  work ;  for  Mathematics  in  those 
days  included  all  the  immense  amount  of  work 
done  in  the  direction  of  Physics,  Astronomy, 
Optics,  Physiology,  and  the  other  branches  of 
science.  Descartes  was  not  an  investigator  of  the 
type  of  the  present  day— a  patient  observer  of  a 
mass  of  phenomena  from  whose  careful  examination 


DESCARTES 


647 


some  results  might  be  deduced.  He  had  his  theories 
well  denned  before  he  began  his  work,  and  laid 
them  down  in  what  we  should  consider  a  dogmatic 
fashion.  But,  this  granted,  he  applied  himself  to 
examine  man  in  all  his  aspects.  In  Physiology, 
for  instance,  he  forms  his  theory,  and  then 
enunciates  it,  explaining  how  the  human  body 
might  be  and  might  act.  A  great  deal — indeed 
most — of  what  he  tells  us  about  the  physiology  of 
the  body,  though  very  interesting  and  in  a  degree 
enlightening,  is  not  correct  in  the  view  of  later 
investigation.  But  then  Descartes  has  the  credit 
of  maintaining  the  theory  of  the  body  as  a  machine, 
a  very  complicated  machine  of  course,  but  one 
which  acts  as  a  machine.  He  narrated  what  he 
knew  to  be  true  about  the  machine,  and  also  what 
he  considered  was  probably  true,  and  formed  the 
whole  into  a  system  which  was  perfectly  clear  and 
intelligible  to  those  who  had  only  the  facts  presented 
before  them.  In  our  view,  many  of  these  '  facts,' 
both  physical  and  physiological,  are  to  the  last 
degree  absurd,  but  still  it  was  better  to  have  a 
comprehensible  theory  such  as  he  gives  than 
nothing  at  all.  That  is  to  say,  it  was  better  to 
have  a  principle  capable  of  verification  or  subsequent 
alteration  than  to  remain  in  the  confusion  of  the 
theories  of  the  day.  He  pictured  a  physical  world 
in  which  every  thing  was  explained — springs,  rivers, 
mines,  metals,  seas — sometimes  explaining  facts 
that  were  not  facts  at  all.  He  also  pictured,  in  his 
works  de  Homine  and  La  Formation  du  fostus, 
a  wonderful  machine-man  carrying  on  all  the 
processes  of  digestion,  circulation,  growth,  sleep, 
etc.,  and  endowed  with  sense-perception  and  ideas, 
memories  and  passions,  just  as  though  it  were  a 
complicated  clock.  To  him  to  know  the  beginning 
of  things,  and  the  laws  that  govern  action,  was  to 
know  the  whole,  for  the  operation  of  physical  law, 
once  set  in  motion,  can  clearly  explain  the  rest. 
This  same  principle  is  to  be  found  in  the  most 
advanced  theories  of  the  day,  as  Huxley,  in 
writing  on  the  automatism  of  animals,  tells  us. 
Huxley  declares  that  Descartes'  physiology,  like 
the  modern  physiology  of  which  it  anticipates  the 
spirit,  leads  straight  to  materialism.  On  the 
other  hand,  by  the  fact  that  it  is  based  on  conscious 
thought,  it  is  as  true  to  say  that  it  leads  us  directly 
to  the  idealism  of  Berkeley  and  Kant.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  we  see,  by  the  way  in  which  the 
Cartesian  philosophy  developed,  that,  if  in  the  one 
direction  it  made  for  a  materialistic  system,  in  the 
other  it  brought  about  the  conclusion  that  all  the 
knowledge  we  can  have  is  a  knowledge  of  our 
states  of  consciousness.  But  the  first  step  taken 
was  that  represented  by  the  pantheism  of  Spinoza. 
The  Infinite  alone  is  affirmative,  the  finite  only  is 
in  so  far  as  it  is  not ;  and  so  we  are  led  on  to  the 
denial  of  the  finite,  and  then  the  absolute  unity 
swallows  up  all  difference  in  itself. 

In  his  last  published  treatise,  the  Passions  de 
Vdme,  Descartes  shows  how  the  various  psycho- 
logical manifestations  may  be  explained  by  purely 
mechanical  means.  He  sets  forth  there  the 
differences  between  soul  and  body ;  thought 
pertains  to  soul,  and  heat  to  body.  The  soul 
cannot  give  heat  to  the  body,  or  we  should  not 
have  death  :  a  dead  man,  in  Descartes'  view,  is 
just  a  broken  watch.  After  explaining  how  this 
wonderful  machine,  when  wound  up,  acts,  he 
considers  the  thought  pertaining  to  the  soul,  i.e. 
the  actions  of  our  will  which  directly  proceed  from 
and  depend  on  it,  and  the  passions  which  are  the 
various  kinds  of  perception  found  in  us.  '  The 
soul  from  its  seat  in  the  gland  in  the  middle  of  the 
brain  spreads  abroad  throughout  the  body  by 
means  of  the  spirits,  nerves,  and  even  blood,  which 
last,  participating  in  the  impressions  of  the  spirits, 
ean  carry  them  by  the  arteries  into  all  the  members.' 


If  the  image  which  is  unified  in  the  gland  inspires 
fear,  and  has  relation  to  what  has  formerly  been 
hurtful  to  the  body,  the  passion  of  fear  is  aroused, 
and  then  the  passions  of  courage  and  the  reverse, 
according  to  the  temperament  of  the  body,  or 
strength  of  the  soul.  Passions  are  thus  caused  by 
the  movement  of  the  '  spirits,'  and  bring  with  them 
certain  movements  of  the  body.  The  will,  how- 
ever, unlike  the  passions,  is  always  free  ;  the  action 
or  will  of  the  soul  can  only  be  indirectly  alfected 
by  the  body,  while  the  passions  depend  absolutely 
on  the  actions  which  bring  them  about,  and  are 
only  indirectly  affected  by  the  soul,  excepting  when 
it  is  itself  their  cause.  The  soul,  however  feeble, 
may  indeed  obtain  absolute  power  over  the  passions, 
although  with  difficulty.  The  reason  may  give  us 
a  just  appreciation  of  the  value  of  good  and  evil, 
and  our  good  judgment  regarding  them  enables  us 
to  resist  the  influence  of  our  passions.  '  If  we 
clearly  saw  that  what  we  are  doing  is  wrong,'  he 
says  in  the  same  book,  '  it  would  be  impossible  for 
us  to  sin,  so  long  as  we  saw  it  in  that  light.'  Will 
and  intellect  must  be  united  in  the  perfect  man, 
as  they  are  united  in  God.  Here  also  we  are  met 
with  the  unexplained  difficulty  as  to  the  action  of 
mind  on  matter.  How  the  movement  of  the 
passions  can  be  altered  by  reason  is  a  question 
which  is  not  answered. 

[3.  Services  to  Mathematics.— From  the  time  of 
the  Greeks  until  that  of  Descartes,  practically  no 
new  results  had  been  obtained  in  Geometry,  though 
Algebra  had  been  greatly  advanced,  notably  by 
Cardan  and  Vieta.  Descartes  made  great  progress 
in  Algebra,  and  gave  new  life  to  Geometry  by  the 
introduction  of  the  powerful  analytical  method. 

Descartes  was  not  the  first  to  realize  that  a  curve  might  be 
defined  as  the  locus  of  a  point  whose  distances  from  two  given 
straight  lines  are  connected  bysome  known  law,  but  he  was  the 
first  to  see  that  the  points  in  a  plane  are  completely  determined 
by  their  co-ordinates  and  conversely.  This  was  largely  due  to 
the  introduction  of  negative  co-ordinates.  As  a  necessary  con- 
sequence, he  saw  that  several  curves  might  be  drawn  with  the 
same  axes,  and  their  intersection  found  algebraically.  After 
this,  their  tangents  were  easily  determined,  though  Descartes' 
own  method  was  indirect,  and  applicable  only  to  curves  with 
an  axis  of  symmetry.  On  this  axis  he  found  the  centre  of  a 
circle  touching  the  curve  at  any  given  point,  and  then  found 
the  tangent  to  the  circle  at  the  point  of  contact.  He  defines 
the  tangent  as  the  limiting  position  of  the  secant. 

Descartes  classifies  curves  according  to  the  relation  of  the 
velocities  of  the  lines  moving  parallel  to  the  axes,  by  whose 
intersection  he  conceives  the  curves  as  generated.  If  these 
velocities  are  '  commensurable  '  (i.e.  if  y  ia  an  algebraical  func- 
tion of  x  as  in  conies),  the  curve  is  '  geometrical ' ;  if  not  (as 
in  the  cycloid),  it  is  '  mechanical.'  This  is  roughly  equivalent 
to  the  Newtonian  division  into  algebraic  and  transcendental 
curves.  In  order  further  to  classify  the  '  geometrical '  curves 
he  discusses  a  problem,  due  to  Pappus,  which  may  roughly  be 
enunciated  as  follows  :  '  To  find  the  locus  of  a  point  the  product 
of  whose  perpendiculars  on  m  straight  lines  is  proportional  to 
that  on  n  others.'  Where  m  =  n=l  we  have  a  straight  line, 
where  m  =  3,  n  =  1,  a  parabola.  This  was  known  to  the  ancients, 
who  had  also  conjectured  that  m=n=2  gave  a  conic.  Descartes 
classed  curves  where  neither  m  nor  n  exceeds  2  as  of  the  first 
genre  ;  where  neither  exceeds  4,  as  of  the  second  genre,  and  so 
on.  Thus  one  genre  corresponds  to  two  of  our  degrees.  He 
also  discussed  curves  which  are  the  loci  of  a  point  whose  dis- 
tances from  the  fixed  points  are  interdependent,  in  particular 
the  Cartesian  ovals,  where  the  product  of  the  distances  is 
constant. 

The  foregoing  work  is  found  in  the  first  two  books  of  the 
Ge'amdtrie ;  the  third  book  is  algebraic.  It  is  important  as 
introducing  our  modern  index-notation,  and  the  use  of  the  last 
letters  of  the  alphabet  for  variables  (Vieta  had  used  the  vowels), 
and  the  first  for  constants.  Descartes  also  used  negative  quan- 
tities and  indeterminate  co-efficients  freely,  and  was  the  first 
to  realize  the  advantage  of  taking  all  the  terms  of  an  equation 
to  one  side.  The  book  is  mainly  occupied  with  the  theory  of 
equations.  It  shows  how  to  construct  an  equation  with  given 
roots,  to  determine  from  the  signs  of  the  co-efficient  a  limit 
to  the  number  of  positive  and  negative  roots,  to  increase  or 
multiply  the  roots  of  a  given  equation  by  a  given  quantity,  to 
eliminate  its  second  term,  and  so  on.  It  is  proved  that  the 
number  of  roots  of  an  equation  is  equal  to  its  degree.  Solu- 
tions of  cubic  and  quartic  equations  are  given,  and  Descartes 
believed  that  his  method  could  be  extended  to  those  of  higher 
degrees. 

Descartes'  Mechanics  is  largely  inaccurate,  but  very  sug- 
gestive, being  the  first  systematic  account  of  the  universe  on 
mathematical  principles.     Of  his  ten  Laws  of  Motion  the  first 


648 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Ethnic) 


two  correspond  to  Newton's  first  Law,  while  the  other  eight 
are  incorrect.  But,  by  his  recognition  of  the  mutual  independ- 
ence of  the  resolved  velocities  of  a  moving  particle,  he  rendered 
invaluable  service  to  Dynamics. 

His  work  is  throughout  characterized  by  great 
originality  and  boldness  of  thought.  It  is  gener- 
ally in  a  condensed  form,  and  meant  rather  to 
be  suggestive  than  rigidly  logical,  but  it  is  none 
the  less  important  as  the  foundation  of  all  modern 
Mathematics. — J.  B.  S.  Haldane.] 

Literature.— The  tercentenary  of  Descartes'  birth  was  cele- 
brated at  the  Sorbonne  on  31st  March  1896,  and  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  following  year  arrangements  were  made  for  issuing 
a  new  edition  of  his  works  under  the  direction  of  Oharles  Adam 
and  Paul  Tannery  (Leopold  Cerf).  This  admirable  work  is  now 
completed,  though  not  in  the  lifetime  of  Tannery.  In  it  we 
have,  as  far  as  possible,  a  complete  edition  of  Descartes'  works 
in  the  tongues  in  which  they  were  written,  and  with  his  invalu- 
able correspondence  carefully  edited  and  arranged.  The  final 
volume  is  a  biography  by  M.  Adam,  Descartes,  sa  vie  et  ses 
eeuvres,  1910.  The  early  editions  of  the  collected  works  were 
two  Latin  texts — one  by  Elzevir  in  9  vols.,  Amsterdam, 
1713,  another  published  in  7  vols,  at  Frankfort,  1697.  Then 
there  is  Cousin's  Fr.  ed.  in  11  vols.,  Paris,  1824-26.  This 
includes  the  correspondence.  The  main  source  of  our  informa- 
tion about  Descartes'  life  comes  from  the  Vie  de  Descartes, 
written  by  Baillet  in  1691  in  two  large  vols.  _;  of  this  a  short 
abridgment  was  made,  and  issued  in  English  in  1692.  A 
modern  life  of  Descartes  (Descartes,  his  Life  and  Times)  was 
published,  London,  1906,  by  Elizabeth  S.  Haldane.  Foucher 
de  Careil  published  various  manuscripts  which  he  discovered 
in  the  Library  at  Hanover.  The  Method,  Meditations,  and  part 
of  the  Principles  were  translated  into  English  by  J.  Veitch, 
London,  1879,  and  an  Eng.  ed.  of  Descartes'  Philosophical 
Works  by  E.  S.  Haldane  and  G.  R.  T.  Ross  has  been  issued 
(1911)  by  the  Cambridge  University  Press. 

The  Literature  on  Descartes  and  Cartesianism  is  enormous ; 
the  following  works  may  be  mentioned :  J.  Millet,  Hist,  de 
Descartes  avant  16S7,  and  depuis  1637,  Paris,  1867-1870;  F. 
Bouillier,  Hist,  de  la  philos.  cartes.,  Paris,  1854 ;  A.  Foucher 
de  Careil,  Descartes  et  la  princesse  Palatine,  Paris,  1862,  also 
Descartes,  la  princesse  Elisabeth  et  la  reine  Christine,  Paris, 
1879 ;  J.  P.  Mahaffy,  Descartes,  in  Blackwood's  Philosophical 
Classics,  1880 ;  N.  Smith,  Studies  in  Cartesian  Philosophy, 
London,  1903  :  Alfred  Fouillee,  Descartes,  Paris,  1903 ;  Louis 
Liard,  Descartes,  Paris,  1882 ;  see  also  the  various  Histories  of 
Philosophy,  such  as  that  of  Kuno  Fischer  (Eng.  tr.,  London, 
1887);  E.  Caird,  art.  'Cartesianism,'  in  EBr* ;  J.  Iverach, 
Descartes,  Spinoza,  and  the  New  Philosophy,  Edin.  1904 ; 
Huxley  deals  with  Descartes'  teaching  in  his  Lay  Sermons  8, 
London,  1877,  and  elsewhere.  E.  S.  HALDANE. 

DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Ethnic).— I.  Intro- 
ductory. —  Myths  or  legends  of  visits  paid  by 
mortals  or  immortals  to  the  under  world  for  some 
definite  purpose  are  of  common  occurrence,  and 
some  are  of  remote  origin.  They  are  intimately 
connected  with  primitive  and  savage  man's  ideas 
of  death  and  of  the  dead,  joined  to  his  affection  for 
those  who  have  been  severed  from  him  by  death. 

Before  a  separate  abode  of  the  dead  was  imagined, 
and  while  yet  they  were  believed  to  exist  in  the 
grave  or  to  hover  round  their  old  haunts,  a  living 
man  saw — in  dreams,  in  trances,  or  in  hallucina- 
tions— the  dead,  and  believed  that  they  had  come 
to  him,  or  that  his  spirit  had  gone  forth  to  join 
them  for  a  time.  So,  when  a  separate  land  of  the 
dead  became  an  article  of  primitive  belief,  men 
believed  that  they  visited  that  land  in  dreams  or 
trances,  or  those  who  had  been  given  up  for  dead 
but  had  revived  told  how  they  had  been  to  the 
Other-world  and  had  been  permitted  to  return  and 
resume  their  earthly  life.  Preconceived  notions 
of  the  nature  and  scenery  of  that  world  coloured 
such  dreams,  but  these  in  turn  gave  support  or 
added  to  current  ideas  regarding  it.  There  was 
nothing  improbable  in  such  dream  or  trance  visits, 
since  the  nature  of  death  is  never  really  compre- 
hended by  savages,  and  the  division  between  life 
and  death  is  slight,  universal  folk-belief  telling  of 
the  restoration  to  life  of  the  dead  or  dismembered 
(see  CF,  chs.  iii.  iv.).1 

But,  in  considering  the  origin  of  mythic  descents 
to  Hades,  primitive  and  savage  affection  for  the 
dead  must  also  be  taken  into  account.  Generally 
the  savage  fears  the  dead  or  their  spirits,  but  in 
individual  cases  affection  often  overcomes  fear, 
1  Cf.  also  the  myths  of  Attis,  Zagreus,  Osiris,  etc. 


and  gives  rise  to  the  wish  to  see  and  commune 
with  them.  Hence  it  also  influences  the  dreams 
of  the  living.  And,  the  division  between  life  and 
death  being  slight  to  the  primitive  mind,  while  it 
was  also  believed  that  the  soul  of  the  dying  or 
recently  dead  could  be  recalled,  affection  would 
easily  suggest  that,  if  men  could  go  in  dreams  to 
the  Other-world,  they  might  go  there  in  their 
waking  state  to  rescue  the  dead.  From  possibility 
to  fact,  from  the  '  might  be '  to  the  '  had  been,' 
was  an  easy  step  to  the  primitive  mind.  Thus 
accounts  of  visions  of  the  Other- world  easily  passed 
into  tales  of  visits  there,  because  in  dreams  the 
savage  believes  not  merely  that  he  is  a  passive 
witness,  but  that  his  soul  is  projected  from  his 
body  and  actually  goes  to  the  place  of  which  he 
has  a  vision.  Stories  of  actual  journeys  to  Hades 
to  bring  back  a  dead  wife,  lover,  or  friend  were 
perfectly  credible,  because  generally  the  entrance 
to  it  was  well  known  or  had  a  local  situation, 
though  the  road  was  often  difficult  and  dangerous. 
Examples  of  such  ways  or  entrances  are  copious  in  Polynesian 
and  Melanesian  belief,  and  there  are  also  W.  African,  Eskimo, 
and  Ainu  instances.  In  Italy  and  Greece  there  were  many 
local  entrances  to  Hades — some  of  them  the  scene  of  mythical 
descents.  Medieval  Christianity  also  knew  several  entrances 
to  purgatory  or  hell,  e.g.  volcanoes  like  Etna  (cf.  Tert.  de 
Pcenit.  12) ;  the  cave  in  an  island  of  Lough  Dearg  in  Ireland, 
known  as  St.  Patrick's  Purgatory ;  the  '  vale  perilous '  in  the 
kingdom  of  Prester  John,  etc. ;  and  the  belief  is  found  in 
Brittany,  where  it  is  thought  that  hell  can  be  reached  by  a 
journey  (Le  Braz,  Ligende  de  la  mart2,  Paris,  1902,  i.  pp.  xxx, 
xxxix).    Cf.  also  local  entrances  to  a  subterranean  fairy-land. 

Dream  or  trance  visits  were  probably  the  first 
subjects  of  story  or  myth,1  but  they  must  soon 
have  been  succeeded  by  tales  of  actual  descent. 
Other  motives  besides  the  rescuing  of,  or  speaking 
to,  the  dead  (doubtless  suggested  by  these)  are 
found — to  seek  a  boon,  or  to  satisfy  curiosity — 
while  in  some  of  the  higher  religions  the  object 
occasionally  is  to  enlighten  the  dead  or  to  free 
them  from  torment.  In  early  times,  as  in  actual 
savage  life,  there  must  have  been  many  stories 
of  visits  to  Hades  by  named,  but  more  frequently 
by  unnamed,  heroes  or  heroines.  But,  with  the 
advance  of  religious  ideas,  the  stories  were  usually 
told  of  semi-divine  heroes  or  divinities,  as  many 
examples  show  (see  below).  All  such  stories  and 
myths  of  descent  are  paralleled  by  similar  tales  of 
ascent  to  a  heavenly  region  (see  Blest,  Abode  of 
the  [Primitive  and  Savage],  §  8  ;  Hartland,  Science 
of  Fairy  Tales,  1891,  p.  224  f. ;  Scott,  Demon,  and 
Witchcraft,  ed.  1898,  p.  29;  Gorres,  Die  christl. 
Mystik,  1842,  bk.  v.  ch.  5). 

Tylor  (il.  48)  maintains  that  descent  to  Hades  was  suggested 
to  '  the  ancient  myth-maker,  who  watched  the  sun  descend  to 
the  dark  under  world,  and  return  at  dawn  to  the  land  of  living 
men.'  But,  though  this  natural  phenomenon  may  have  coloured 
later  myths,  it  was  rather  man's  dream  experiences  which 
suggested  the  tales.  Some  writers  connect  the  myths  of  Istar 
and  Tammuz,  of  Dionysos  and  Semele,  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice, 
with  the  myth  and  ritual  of  the  death  and  revival  of  a  divinity 
of  vegetation,  fertility,  etc.,  and  find  their  origin  in  these. 
J.  E.  Harrison  (Prol.  to  Study  of  Greek  Eel.2,  Camb.  1908, 
p.  603)  says  :  '  Anyone  who  realizes  Orpheus  [whom  she  regards 
as  a  historical  personage]  at  all  would  feel  that  the  intrusion 
of  desperate  emotion  puts  him  out  of  key.  Semele,  the  green 
earth,  comes  up  from  below,  year  by  yearl;  with  her  comes  her 
son  Dionysos,  and  by  a  certain  instinct  of  chivalry  men  said  he 
had  gone  to  fetch  her.  The  mantle  of  Dionysos  descends  on 
Orpheus'  (cf.  also  CGS  ii.  651;  Tiele,  Actes  du  vime  Congres 
intern,  des  Orient,  ii.  1.  496).  This  is  to  reverse  the  order  of 
things.  Precisely  similar  tales  are  told  elsewhere  of  personages 
in  no  way  connected  with  vegetation,  while  Eurydice,  unlike 
Semele,  does  not  rise  again.  Such  tales  doubtless  existed  in 
Babylonia  and  Greece,  and  they  would  easily  become  part  of, 
and  give  precise  form  to,  the  myths  of  vegetation-divinities 
who  were  thought  to  die  and  come  to  life  again.  But  it  is 
certain  that  the  latter  belief  did  not  originate  the  tales  them- 
selves. For  another  theory  connecting  them  with  supposed 
death  and  renewal  in  rites  of  initiation,  see  Van  Gennep,  Les 
Rites  de  passage,  Paris,  1909,  p.  131. 

2.  Dream  or  trance  visits. — Catalepsy  and  trance 
are  hardly  distinguishable  by  the  savage  from 
death.     Hence  those  who  revive  from  them  are 

1  In  Jewish  and  Christian  legend  both  Hades  and  Heaven  are 
often  visited  or  seen  in  vision. 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Ethnic) 


649 


thought  to  have  died  and  come  to  life  again  ;  and, 
in  many  cases,  their  minds  being  haunted  by  the 
current  ideas  of  Hades,  they  relate  as  actual  visits 
of  the  soul  there  what  has  been  experienced  in 
dream  (Tylor,  ii.  48).  Such  trance  visits  of  the 
apparently  dead  are  also  known  at  higher  levels, 
where  detailed  stories  of  the  visit — all  greatly 
alike — are  told  (Plato,  Hep.  x.  ;  Pliny,  EN  vii.  52  ; 
Aston,  Shinto,  1905,  p.  181 ;  Scherman,  Gesch.  der 
ind.  Visionslitt.,  Leipzig,  1892,  p.  91  ff.  ;  Aug.  de 
Cura  pro  mortuis,  12 ;  Greg,  the  Great,  Dial.  iv. 
36).  Or  the  dream  experiences  may  occur  in 
ordinary  sleep,  or  accompany  the  hallucinations 
of  illness.  In  some  cases  they  have  assumed  the 
stereotyped  form  of  a  folk-tale.  A  Maori  woman 
told,  on  returning  to  consciousness,  how  her  spirit 
descended  to  Beinga,  the  place  of  the  dead,  exactly 
like  this  world.  Her  father's  spirit  commanded 
her  to  return  and  look  after  her  child,  and  to 
beware  of  eating  the  food  of  Beinga.  She  was 
pursued,  on  leaving,  by  two  spirits,  but  escaped 
them  by  throwing  down  a  root  which  they  stayed 
to  eat.  Then  her  spirit  rejoined  her  body  (Short- 
land,  Trad,  and  Sup.  of  the  N.  Zealanders,  1856, 
p.  150 ;  for  another  tale  see  his  Maori  Rel.  and 
Myth.,  1882,  p.  45).  In  a  story  from  the  Hervey 
Islands  the  spirit  of  a  man  apparently  dead 
descends  to  Hades,  but  by  a  stratagem  he  escapes 
being  eaten  by  the  hag  Mini,  its  ruler,  who  bids 
him  return  to  earth  (Gill,  Myths  and  Songs  of 
the  S.  Pacific,  1876,  p.  172).  In  a  Japanese  story 
Ono-no-Kimi  died  and  went  to  Hades,  but  was 
sent  back  by  its  ruler  because  his  allotted  time 
was  not  exhausted  (Hearn,  Unfamiliar  Japan, 
1894,  i.  68).  Many  stories  of  dream  visits  to  the 
land  of  the  dead  are  found  among  the  American 
Indians,  with  elaborate  descriptions  of  that  land, 
based  on  current  beliefs,  and  telling  of  the  dangers 
of  the  way,  the  narrow  bridge  spanning  the  river 
of  death,  and  the  life  of  the  spirits  (Schoolcraft, 
Ind.  Tribes,  Philad.  1853-6,  iii.  233  ;  Tanner,  Cap- 
tivity and  Adventures,  N.Y.  1830,  p.  290,  etc.). 

Savage  medicine-men  very  commonly  claim  the 
power  of  sending  their  spirits  during  a  trance  into 
the  under  world.  Thus  the  Eskimo  angekok  is 
securely  bound  and,  during  a  dark  seance,  visits 
the  torngak,  or  spirit,  in  Hades.  He  then  appears 
unbound  and  gives  an  account  of  his  visit  (Crantz, 
Hist,  of  Greenland,  1820,  p.  269).  In  Melanesia 
a  wizard  sent  his  soul  during  a  trance  to  Panoi 
(Hades),  where  it  spoke  with  the  dead  about  whom 
their  friends  were  anxious,  and  professed  to  be 
able  to  bring  them  back  to  earth.  This  is  a 
common  belief  in  all  the  islands  of  the  group. 
Burlesque  parodies  of  these  and  other  tales  of 
descent  exist  (Codrington,  The  Melanesians,  Ox- 
ford, 1891,  p.  277).  Sorcerers  in  Borneo  who  have 
visited  the  under  world  will  show  a  piece  of  wood  or 
stone  given  them  by  the  spirits  there  (L'Anthrop., 
Paris,  x.  [1899]  728;  cf.  Ancestor  -  worship, 
vol.  i  p.  429a).  Among  the  Karens,  necromancers 
claim  the  power  of  going  into  the  unseen  world  to 
bring  back  the  la,  or  soul,  of  a  sick  man  when  it 
has  wandered  away  (Mason,  JASBe  xxxiv.  201). 
In  Siberia  the  shaman  is  supposed  to  conduct  the 
souls  of  the  dead  to  the  lower  world  and  there 
secure  for  them  a  favourable  welcome  by  gifts  of 
brandy  (Badloff,  Aus  Sibirien,  Leipzig,  1884,  ii. 
52  f.).  For  a  Chinook  instance  of  the  souls  of 
shamans  visiting  Hades  to  recover  the  soul  of  a 
sick  man,  see  Chinooks,  vol.  iii.  p.  562. 

Visions  of  Hades  were  doubtless  known  to  the 
ancient  world,  and  they  may  have  suggested  an 
artificial  introduction  of  them  for  religious  or  other 
ends.  Thus,  at  the  sanctuary  and  cave  of  Tro- 
phonius  in  Lebadeia,  the  inquirer,  after  a  due 
ritual,  descended  to  an  underground  region,  where 
he  was  perhaps  shown  scenic  representations  of 


Hades,  or,  under  the  influence  of  mephitic  vapours 
or  narcotics,  fell  into  a  trance  and  experienced  in 
dream  what  he  deemed  to  be  realities.  These 
experiences,  to  judge  from  the  vision  of  Timarchos, 
were  visions  of  the  Other-world,  of  Tartarus  and 
Elysium  (Plutarch,  de  Gen.  Socr.  21  ff.  ;  Paus.  ix. 
39.  5ff.).  But  a  literary  use  was  also  made  of 
tales  of  such  dream  experiences,  and  there  are 
many  accounts  of  descents  to  Hades  or  visions 
of  the  Other-world,  e.g.  the  visit  of  Odysseus, 
Plutarch's  stories  of  Thespesius  and  Antylius  (de 
Tard.  Just.  Div.  ;  Euseb.  Prozp,  Evang.  xi.  36), 
the  visit  of  jEneas,  Lucian's  story  of  Cleodemes 
(Philops.  25),  as  well  as  burlesque  accounts  of 
descents  to  Hades — that  of  Dionysos  in  the  Frogs 
of  Aristophanes,  and  that  of  Menippus  told  by 
Lucian  (see  also  Rohde,  Psyche,  Freiburg,  1894, 
p.  289).  The  scenes  of  Hades,  as  described  in 
Homer,  were  reproduced  by  Polygnotus  on  the 
walls  of  the  Lesche  at  Delphi  (Paus.  x.  28.  4). 

A  late  Egyptian  demotic  papyrus  of  the  1st  cent. 
A.D.,  but  probably  representing  a  story  of  far 
earlier  date,  tells  how  the  high  priest  of  Memphis, 
Setne  Khamuas  (c.  1250  B.C.),  descended,  under  the 
guidance  of  his  son,  Si-Osiri,  to  the  Ti  or  Duat, 
where  he  saw  the  judgment  of  souls  and  the  various 
halls  of  Amenti,  or  Hades,  and  the  state  of  the 
dead  there  (Griffith,  Stories  of  the  High  Priests  of 
Memphis,  Oxford,  1900,  p.  45  ff.).  In  Hinduism 
and  Buddhism  there  are  many  stories  of  visions  of 
hell  or  of  visits  paid  there,  perhaps  based  on  actual 
visions  induced  by  meditation  and  asceticism,  and 
shaped  in  accordance  with  the  current  dogmatic 
beliefs.  They  served  to  buttress  the  latter,  and 
were  perhaps  regarded  as  reminiscences  of  actual 
experiences  in  a  previous  existence.  In  other 
instances  they  are  told  of  people  who  fell  into  a 
trance,  or  whose  souls  were  summoned  too  soon 
to  the  Other-world  and  were  then  permitted  to 
return  to  the  body  (Scherman,  91  ft'.).  In  later 
Parsiism  the  Book  of  Arda  Viraf  (ed.  Haug  and 
West,  Bombay,  1872)  relates  how  this  pious  Parsi 
priest  was  selected  by  lot  to  take  a  narcotic,  so  that 
his  soul  might  go,  while  he  was  still  alive,  from 
this  world  to  the  next  and  bring  back  a  report  of 
the  fate  of  souls.  The  bliss  of  the  righteous  and 
the  tortures  of  the  wicked  are  described  in  detail, 
and  the  book  is  still  read  and  firmly  believed  in  by 
all  classes  of  the  Zoroastrian  community.  Several 
editions  of  it  exist  in  both  prose  and  verse.  In 
later  Judaism  the  authors  of  such  works  as  the 
Book  of  Enoch  (ed.  Charles,  Oxford,  1893)  and  the 
Book  of  the  Secrets  of  Enoch  (do.  1896)  describe  visits 
to  Sheol  and  to  the  various  heavens,  with  their 
different  divisions  for  the  righteous  and  the  wicked. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  most  of  these  narratives, 
especially  where  they  describe  the  punishments  of 
sinners  and  the  bliss  of  the  righteous,  served  the 
purpose  of  teaching  a  dogmatic  eschatology  and  of 
urging  men  to  live  righteously. 

The  same  phenomena  are  met  with  in  the  history 
of  Christianity.  There  are  records  of  genuine 
visions  of  the  Other-world  such  as  have  been 
experienced  by  the  devout  or  imaginative  in  all 
ages,  and  based  on  recollection  of  what  had  been 
heard  or  read,  as  Tertullian  shows  of  a  female 
visionary  known  to  him  [de  Anima,  9).  Of  such  a 
class  are  the  visions  of  SS.  Perpetua  and  Saturus, 
with  their  reminiscences  of  passages  in  canonical 
or  apocryphal  Scriptures  (Robinson,  Passion  of 
S.  Perp.  ITS,  Cambridge,  1892,  i.  pt.  2]).  But 
there  are  also  innumerable  literary  versions  of 
visionary  or  actual  visits  to  hell,  purgatory,  and 
paradise,  perhaps  based  on  these,  but  in  many  cases 
borrowing  from  pagan  or  Jewish  sources.  This  is 
most  marked  in  the  description  of  the  various 
divisions  of  Hades  (found  in  Egyptian,  Oriental, 
and  Jewish  instances),  and  in  the  frequent  mention 


660 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Ethnic) 


of  the  narrow  and  dangerous  bridge  of  the  under 
world,  an  early  instance  of  which  occurs  in  the 
Dialogues  of  Gregory  the  Great  (iv.  36  ;  see  also 
art.  Bridge).  The  prototype  of  all  these  visions, 
to  which  Dante  gave  immortal  form,  is  found  in 
the  Apocalypse  of  Peter  (e.  A.D.  100-150),  on  which 
many  later  visions  are  based.  These  stories  (which, 
with  wearisome  iteration,  tell  how  the  seer  or 
visitor  or,  in  some  cases,  the  soul  of  the  dead  person 
raised  to  life  by  an  apostle  or  saint J  was  led  through 
the  regions  of  torment,  of  purgatory,  or  of  paradise) 
were  highly  popular  in  the  Middle  Ages,  when 
there  existed  a  passionate  desire  for  exact  details 
of  the  Other-world,  and  they  were  used  to  enforce 
dogmatic  teaching.  But  they  were  burlesqued  as 
early  as  the  11th  cent.,  and  also  in  later  times  in 
the  fabliaux,  by  the  troubadours,  and  by  Rabelais, 
who  helped  to  discredit  them  (Wright,  S.  Patrick's 
Purgatory,  1844,  p.  47  ;  Lecky,  Hist,  of  Europ. 
Morals*,  1890,  ii.  232;  Rabelais,  bk.  ii.  ch.  30). 
Their  scenes  were  also  reproduced  by  art,  e.g.  on 
the  walls  of  ancient  Greek  churches,  just  as  Dante's 
poem  affected  Italian  painting  from  the  time  of 
Orcagna  onwards  (see  Heuzey,  '  Les  Supplices  de 
l'Enfer  d'apres  les  peintures  byzantines,'  Ann.  de 
I'assoc.  pour  I'encourag.  des  itudes  grecques,  Paris, 
1871,  p.  114  ff. ).  The  cave  of  Trophonius  had  also 
its  double  in  the  Irish  St.  Patrick's  purgatory, 
exploited  from  at  least  the  12th  or  13th  century. 
After  ritual  preparation,  the  pilgrim  was  allowed 
to  enter,  and,  in  the  windings  of  the  cavern,  under 
the  influence  of  its  hot  vapours,  he  fell  asleep.  In 
most  cases  his  dreams  took  the  form  of  preconceived 
notions  of  purgatory,  but  this  was  not  always  the 
case,  and  sometimes  the  pilgrim  perished  in  the 
cavern  (Wright,  139,  153,  135).  Possibly  some 
scenic  representations  may  have  been  used,  and 
there  seems  to  have  been  actual  bodily  experience 
of  pains  and  torments  which  remitted  some  of  the 
future  penalties.  Several  literary  accounts  of 
visits  and  visions  at  this  famous  spot,  beginning 
with  that  of  the  descent  of  Owain  in  1 153  by  Henry 
of  Sawtrey  (of  which  English  and  French  versions 
exist  [D.  Laing,  Owain  Miles,  Edin.  1837  ;  Marie  de 
France,  Poisies,  ed.  Roquefort,  Paris,  1820,  vol.  ii.]), 
had  a  great  vogue  in  Europe. 

In  the  Norse  Elder  Edda  the  11th  or  12th  cent. 
Sdlarliddh,  ascribed  to  Stemundr,  describes  a  son's 
vision  of  his  dead  father,  who  tells  him  of  his  death, 
and  how  he  at  last  reached  the  place  of  torment, 
and  saw  the  tortures  inflicted  there  on  various 
classes  of  sinners.  Then  he  describes  the  joys  of 
heaven.  Pagan  and  Christian  ideas  are  curiously 
intermingled,  as  if  the  poet  had  held  the  two  faiths 
at  once,  or  was  a  heathen  with  glimpses  of  Chris- 
tianity (Vigfusson-Powell,  Corp.  Poet.  Boreale, 
Oxford,  1883,  i.  202  ff.). 

3.  Descent  to  rescue  a  dead  relative. — This  series 
of  stories  is  one  of  the  most  pathetic  in  all  myth- 
ology, showing  man's  instinctive  belief  that  love  is 
stronger  than  death,  while  the  savage  examples  are 
quite  as  touching  as  those  from  higher  levels.  Of 
the  savage  legends,  the  most  numerous  versions 
occur  among  the  Amer.  Indians,  Polynesians,  and 
Melanesians. 

A  Wyandot  story  tells  of  a  brother  who  went  to  the  land  of 
souls  to  recover  his  sister.  He  met  an  old  man,  who  gave  him  a 
calabash  in  which  to  put  her  spirit.  After  some  failures  he 
captured  her,  and  hastened  back  to  earth.  There  he  summoned 
his  friends  to  witness  the  revival  of  the  dead  body,  but  a  woman 
opened  the  calabash,  and  the  spirit  flew  back  to  the  land  of  souls 
(Schoolcraft,  ii.  235).  There  are  numerous  variants  of  this  tale, 
and  generally,  through  curiosity  or  the  breaking  of  a  tabu,  the 
soul  escapes  (see  Dorman,  Prim.  SupersL,  Philad.  1881,  p.  43  ; 
Lafitau,  Mceurs  des  Sauv.  amir.,  1724,  i.  402 ;  Oharencev,  Le 
Folklore  dans  les  deux  mondes,  Paris,  1894,  p.  286  ff.  ;  NR  iii. 
630  f.;  Blest,  ABODE.oi>THE[Prim.  and  Savage],  vol.  ii.  p.  685b).   In 

iSee  'Acts  of  Thomas,' '  Hist,  of  John,'  in  Wright,  Apoc.  Acts, 
1871,  ii.  23,  149 ;  Budge,  Gods  of  the  Egypticms,  1904,  i.  208  ; 
Preaching  of  Andrew,'  '  Story  of  John,'  in  Lewis,  Myth.  Acts  of 
Apostles,  1904   pp.  7,  163. 


some  cases  a  woman's  spirit  is  allowed  to  return  to  her  husband 
without  his  visiting  the  land  of  souls,  but  again  he  loses  her,  or 
he  himself  dies  through  breaking  a  tabu  (2  RBEW  [1883]  103  ; 
NR  iii.  631).  1  Tales  of  the  latter  class  are  analogous  to  those  of 
the  Dead  Mother  or  Wife  cycle  (C F,  p.  42  f. ;  Sandys'  tr.  of  Ovid's 
Metam.,  Oxford,  1632,  p.  354  ;  cf.  the  Maori  tale,  §  2  above).  In 
a  Polynesian  tale  a  woman  fell  into  Avaiki,  or  Hades,  and  her 
husband  descended  to  release  her  from  the  captivity  of  the  spirits. 
He  heard  her  crying  in  the  hut  where  she  was  imprisoned,  and, 
going  to  her,  bade  her  escape.  He  remained,  imitating  her  voice, 
and  then  fled.  The  spirits  pursued,  but  he,  catching  his  wifein 
his  arms  at  the  chasm  which  led  up  to  earth,  escaped  with  her 
just  in  time  (Gill,  221  ff.).  A  beautiful  Maori  story  tells  of  Pane, 
who  died  of  love  for  Hutu.  Hutu  prayed  to  the  gods,  who 
showed  him  the  way  to  Reinga,  telling  him  not  to  touch  the 
food  offered  him  there.  He  amused  the  spirits  by  making  them 
sit  on  the  top  of  a  tree  fastened  by  a  rope  to  the  ground.  WheD 
the  rope  was  let  go,  they  were  shot  up  into  the  air.  Finally, 
Pane  appeared,  and  took  her  place  by  Hutu's  side  on  the  tree. 
When  the  rope  was  freed,  it  caught  in  the  creepers  far  above,  up 
which  Hutu  escaped  with  her  to  earth  (Clarke,  Maori  Tales, 
1S96,  p.  1  ff . ;  cf.  p.  126  for  a  story  of  a  chief  who  went  to  Reinga 
to  recover  his  dead  wife).  In  Melanesia  such  stories  are  com- 
mon. A  woman  descended  to  Panoi  to  see  her  dead  brother, 
first  giving  herself  a  '  death-like  smell.'  She  was  supposed  to  be 
a  ghost,  and  conversed  with  her  brother,  who  bade  her  touch 
no  food  there  lest  she  should  be  permanently  detained.  Again, 
a  wizard,  descending  in  the  spirit,  took  with  him  a  man  who 
wished  to  recover  his  wife.  He  begged  her  to  return,  but  she 
said  it  was  impossible,  and  gave  him  an  armlet  for  remembrance. 
He  seized  her  hand,  and  tried  to  drag  her  away,  but  it  came  off 
and  her  body  fell  asunder,  for  in  Panoi  ghosts  have  a  substantial 
frame  (Codrington,  pp.  227  f.,  286).  For  other  S.  Pacific  tales, 
see  Bastian,  Allerlei  aus  Volks-  und  Menschenkunde,  i.  8,  111  ff . 

At  higher  levels  these  tales  are  told  of  gods,  and 
have  become  myths.  In  early  Japanese  mythology 
the  goddess  called  '  the  Female-who-invites '  died 
and  went  to  Yomi,  or  Hades.  Her  brother-husband, 
the  Male-who-invites,  followed  her  there  and  invited 
her  to  come  back.  She  told  him  he  had  come  too 
late,  as  she  had  eaten  of  the  food  of  Hades,  but  that 
she  would  consult  its  deities.  Meanwhile  he  was 
not  to  look  at  her.  Impatient  at  her  absence,  he 
lit  one  of  the  teeth  of  his  comb  and  found  her  rot- 
ting. He  thus  put  her  to  shame,  and  she  sent  the 
Ugly  Female  of  Hades  to  pursue  him  ;  but  he 
stayed  her  by  casting  articles  behind  him  which 
changed  to  food,  which  she  stopped  to  eat.a  She 
then  sent  the  Thunder  Deities  and  warriors  in 
pursuit,  but  he  smote  them.  Finally,  she  pursued 
him  herself,  but  he  blocked  the  way  with  a  great 
rock.  The  goddess  is  now  the  Great  Deity  of 
Hades  {Kojiki,  tr.  Chamberlain,  Suppl.  to  TASJ 
x.  [1883]  34  ff.). 

In  Babylonia,  the  poem  describing  the  Descent 
of  Istar  into  AraM,  or  Hades,  contains  elements  of 
ancient  origin,  and  presents  several  problems  for 
solution.  Istar  demands  entrance  to  '  the  land 
whence  there  is  no  return.'  She  has  come  to  weep 
over  heroes  who  have  left  wives,  over  wives  taken 
from  husbands,  and  over  the  only  son  (Tammuz) 
taken  away  before  his  time.  By  order  of  Allatu,  she 
is  stripped  of  her  dress  and  ornaments  at  each  of  the 
seven  gates,  and  then  struck  with  disease.  There  is 
now  desolation  on  earth,  life  dies  away,  and  the 
gods  lament  her  disappearance.  Ea  creates  Ud- 
dushu-namir,  and  sends  him  to  AraM  to  demand 
the  Water  of  Life  as  a  preliminary  to  the  release 
of  Istar.  Allatu  is  compelled  to  cause  Istar  to  be 
sprinkled  with  it.  She  is  led  back,  and  at  each 
gate  her  clothing  and  ornaments  are  restored  to 
her.  The  story,  as  connected  with  Tammuz,  must 
have  described  his  restoration  by  means  of  the  life- 
giving  water  at  the  instance  of  Istar,  come  in  quest 
of  him — an  incident  enacted  in  the  Tammuz  ritual. 
But  this  is  not  set  forth  in  the  poem,  though  there 
is  an  obscure  reference  to  Tammuz  at  the  end,  in 
the  form  of  ritual  directions  to  mourners,  to  whom 
the  poem  appears  to  have  been  addressed.  Pure 
water  is  to  be  poured  out  for  Tammuz.  The  poem 
as  it  stands  may  have  been  derived  from  two 
myths,  one  telling  how  Istar  rescued  Tammuz 
from  the  dead  (since  his  restoration  was  annually 

1  Cf.  the  Greek  myth  of  Protesilaus  and  Laomedia. 

2  This  is  the  Mcirchen  formula  of  the  Transformation  Flight, 
already  met  with  in  a  Maori  instance,  5  2. 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Ethnic) 


651 


celebrated),  the  other  telling  of  the  rescue  of  Istar 
from  Hades  at  the  intervention  of  the  gods.     The 

firesent  poem  bears  more  abundant  traces  of  the 
atter  myth  than  of  the  former,  though  it  also 
hints  at  a  descent  for  purposes  of  rescue  ;  Istar 
descends  violently,  and  threatens  to  break  down 
the  gates  (see  Talbot,  TSBA  iii.  118  fi'.;  Sayce, 
Bel.  of  the  Ancient  Bab.,  1887,  p.  221  ft'.  ;  Jastrow, 
Bel.  of  Bab.  and  Assyria,  Boston,  1898,  pp.  563  ft'., 
5S8  f . ;  see  EBE  ii.  315b).  The  recovery  of  Tammuz 
by  Istar  is  also  suggested  by  the  fact  that  there 
was  a  Greek  myth  telling  how  Aphrodite  (Istar) 
went  down  to  Hades  to  redeem  Adonis  (Tammuz) 
from  Persephone  (Apol.  of  Ari-stides,  §  11).  At  the 
sanctuary  of  the  Syriac  Aphrodite  sexual  relations 
with  the  priestesses  representing  her  were  believed 
to  ransom  one  from  Hades,  as  Adonis  had  been 
freed  from  it  (Euseb.  Vita  Const,  iii.  55  ;  Bousset, 
Hauptprobleme  der  Gnosis,  Gottingen,  1907,  p. 
72). 

The  so-called  prayer  of  a  Navaho  ghaman  has  a  certain  like- 
ness to  the  IStar  myth.  It  is  a  kind  of  prayer-spell,  describing 
the  action  of  the  gods  as  the  shaman  desires  them  to  act.  He 
fears  his  soul  may  be  detained  by  sorcery  in  the  under  world. 
The  war-gods  are  therefore  to  descend  and  rescue  it  from  the 
'  underground  witch.'  They  pass  gate  after  gate,  sentinel  after 
Bentinel,  of  the  lower  world,  by  magical  means,  and  there  find 
the  suppliant's  soul.  Returning  through  chamber  after  cham- 
ber, they  bring  it  back  to  him,  so  that  '  the  world  before  me  is 
restored  in  beauty'  (Matthews,  Amer.  Anthrop.,  1SSS,  i.). 

The  Greeks  had  several  descent-myths,  that  of 
Orpheus  being  the  best  known,  thanks  to  Vergil's 
version.  After  the  death  of  Eurydice  her  image 
haunted  him,  until  he  determined  to  seek  her  in 
Hades.  He  descended  there,  and  the  sweet  notes 
of  his  lyre  enchanted  its  denizens.  Pluto  and 
Persephone  were  moved  to  pity.  Eurydice  would 
be  restored  on  one  condition — that  Orpheus  should 
precede  her  and  not  look  back  till  they  arrived  on 
earth.  Just  before  reaching  the  fatal  limit,  his 
love  overcame  him.  He  looked  round  and  lost  her 
for  ever  (Verg.  Georg.  iv. ;  Paus.  ix.  30.  4-6 ; 
Apollodorus,  i.  3.  2). 

The  Orphic  poem  KaTa/Dturis  ets'AiSov  has  not  survived,  but 
it  may  have  had  for  subject  the  descent  of  Orpheus.'/'Foucart 
thinks  it  was  a  ritual  poem  containing  instructions  for  the  dead 
in  Hades,  like  the  Orphic  tablets  engraved  on  sheets  of  gold, and 
the  Egyptian  Book  of  the  Dead  (Recherches  sur  Vorigiiie  et  la 
nature  des  mysteres  d'Eleusis,  Paris,  1895,  p.  7 ;  cf.  also 
Dieterich,  Nekyia,  Leipzig,  1S93,  p.  128  ff.). 

Dionysos,  as  certain  myths  taught,  was  also  said 
to  have  descended  to  Hades  to  bring  back  Semele, 
and,  according  to  local  Argive  tradition,  he  de- 
scended through  the  Alcyonian  lake,  Polymnus 
having  shown  him  the  way.  His  return  from 
Hades  was  annually  celebrated  there,  and  in  all 
probability  the  myth  had  become  fused  with  that 
of  his  resurrection  (Paus.  ii.  31.  2,  37.  5  ;  Apoliod. 
iii.  5.  3).  Another  myth  told  how  Alcestis,  the 
wife  of  Admetus,  having  willingly  died  in  his 
stead,  was  delivered  by  Herakles,  who,  seeing  the 
grief  of  her  husband  and  people,  descended  to 
Hades  to  rescue  her  from  death.  In  a  variant  of 
the  myth,  Persephone  was  her  reseller  (Apoliod. 
i.  9.  15  ;  Hyginus,  Fab.  50  ;  Eurip.  Alcestis).  An- 
other myth — the  subject  of  a  lost  poem  of  Hesiod 
— related  that  Theseus  agreed  to  assist  Pirithoos 
in  carrying  off  Persephone  from  Hades.  They 
descended  there,  but,  according  to  one  version, 
were  outwitted;  for,  expecting  to  receive  gifts,  they 
sat  down  on  the  chair  of  Forgetfulness,  to  which 
they  were  held  fast  by  coils  of  serpents.  Herakles 
caused  the  release  of  one  or  both  when  he  descended 
to  fetch  Cerberus  (Paus.  ix.  31.  5,  x.  29.  2  ;  and  for 
a  euhemerized  version,  see  i.  17.  4,  and  Plut.  Thes. 
31,  35;  Epit.  Vat.  ex  Apoliod.  Bibl.,  ed.  "Wagner, 
Leipzig,  1891,  pp.  58,  155  ft'.).  Cf.  also  the  myth 
of  Castor  and  Pollux.  For  the  Pythagorean  de- 
scent, see  Rohde,  456  ;  Dieterich,  129. 

In  Scandinavian  mythology  descent-myths  are 
tonnected  with  Balder's  death.    Hermodr  offered  to 


descend  to  Hel  to  recover  Balder.  Taking  Odin's 
horse,  he  travelled  for  nine  days  through  dark 
valleys  till  he  reached  the  river  Gjbll,  crossed  by  a 
bridge  covered  with  gold  and  guarded  by  Modgudr. 
After  some  delay  she  permitted  him  to  cross,  and 
at  last  he  reached  the  place  of  the  dead  and  saw 
Balder.  He  begged  Hela  to  permit  Balder's  return, 
but  she  made  his  release  conditional  upon  all  things 
mourning  his  loss.  Hermodr  obtained  Balder's  ring 
as  a  token  of  remembrance,  and  returned  to  the 
gods.  All  things  were  begged  to  mourn,  and  all 
did  so  save  the  witch  Thok  (  =  Loke),  who  said  she 
would  weep  with  dry  eyes  and  Hela  would  keep  her 
prey  (Dasent,  Prose  or  Younger  Edda,  Stockholm, 
1842  ;  see  also  §  4). 

In  Hindu  mythology  a  descent-myth  is  told  of 
Krsna,  who  went  to  the  kingdom  of  Yama  and 
demanded  the  dead  son  of  his  pupil  Sandipani. 
After  having  conquered  Yama  in  fight,  lie  accom- 
plished his  purpose  (Harivarnia,  v.  4913  ff.,  in 
Scherman,  p.  64).  Not  quite  parallel,  but  show- 
ing the  possibility  of  rescuing  a  dead  person  from 
Hades,  is  the  story  of  Yama's  marriage  to  Vijaya. 
He  cautioned  her  not  to  go  near  the  southern  part 
of  his  domain  ;  but  curiosity  tempted  her,  and 
there  she  saw  the  wicked,  including  her  mother,  in 
torments.  She  told  Yama  she  would  leave  him 
unless  be  consented  to  release  her  mother,  but  this 
took  place  only  after  the  due  performance  of  cer- 
tain ceremonies  (Wilkins,  Hindu  Myth.'',  Calcutta, 
1900,  p.  83  f. ).  In  a  Tibetan  Buddhist  legend,  Maud- 
galyayana  learns  from  his  father  that  his  mother 
is  in  hell.  At  once  he  sets  out,  and  descends 
deeper  and  deeper.  The  doors  open  before  him,  and 
none  of  the  demons  opposes  him.  When  he  finally 
discovers  her,  he  offers  to  take  her  place  ;  but  this 
is  refused.  Finally,  Buddha  is  appealed  to,  and  lie 
visits  hell,  with  the  result  that  all  the  sorrowing 
beings  are  re-born  in  heaven.  The  mother  is  still 
subjected,  for  her  sins,  to  certain  torments;  but, 
at  the  exhortation  of  her  son,  she  feels  shame,  and 
advances  by  re-birth  till  she  reaches  the  god-region 
where  her  husband  is  (Scherman,  80  ft".  ;  and  for  a 
Chinese  parallel,  Edkins,  Chinese  Buddhism,  1880, 
p.  225  ff.).  In  a  Chinese  tale  the  Buddhist  Lo  Pah, 
on  passing  into  paradise  at  death,  realized  that  bis 
mother  was  in  hell.  He  at  once  descended  there, 
and  by  his  virtues  and  intercessions  succeeded  in 
rescuing  her  (Asiat.  Journal,  xxxi.  [1840]  211). 

4.  Descent  to  obtain  a  boon,  etc. — Some  ex- 
amples from  the  lower  culture  may  be  cited  first. 
In  an  Eskimo  tale  a  man,  to  obtain  luck,  is  advised 
by  his  mother  to  raise  a  stone  and  descend  through 
the  opening  to  the  under  world,  where  he  will 
receive  a  piece  of  sealskin  which  will  ensure  good 
luck  (Rink,  Tales  and  Trad,  of  the  Eskimo,  1875, 
p.  461).  In  an  Ainu  story  a  youth  defrauded  of 
his  heritage  went  to  Hades  to  get  his  father's  help. 
He  arrived  at  a  village  and  saw  his  father,  but  (in 
accordance  with  Ainu  belief)  could  not  make  him- 
self heard  by  the  spirit  until  he  entered  another 
spirit  and  spoke  through  him.  His  father  told 
him  he  had  left  him  a  share,  and  with  this  in- 
formation he  returned  to  earth,  and  his  brother 
assigned  a  portion  to  him  (Batchelor,  Ainu  of 
Japan,  1892,  p.  228).  The  Esthonian  epic  relates 
how  its  hero  found,  in  the  cave  leading  to  Hades, 
three  girls  who  enabled  him  by  magic  to  overcome 
Sarvik,  its  lord.  Later  he  penetrated  farther  and 
reached  the  gates  of  Porgu  (Hades),  where  its 
hosts  advanced  to  meet  him  at  a  river  of  pitch 
crossed  by  a  bridge.  He  defeated  them,  conquered 
Sarvik  once  more,  and  returned  to  earth  with  his 
treasures  (Kirby,  Hero  of  Esthonia,  1S95,  i.  100, 
124).  In  the  Finnish  Kalevala  its  hero  Waina- 
mbinen,  after  long  travel  through  a  forest,  induced 
the  maiden  who  acts  the  part  of  Charon  to  ferry 
him  over  to  Tuonela  (Hades),  where  he  desired  to 


652 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Ethnic) 


learn  certain  magic  words  from  its  wise  lord.  By 
avoiding  the  beer  of  Tuonela  he  was  able  to  return 
and  describe  on  earth  the  horrors  he  had  seen 
(Schiefner,  Kalewala,  Helsingfors,  1852,  rune  16). 
A  Japanese  myth  tells  how  the  deity  Oho-na-mochi 
went  to  Hades  to  seek  counsel  of  its  lord,  whose 
daughter  he  married.  The  lord  of  Hades  tried  to 
compass  his  death  by  setting  him  tasks,  but,  after 
help  from  his  wife  and  a  friendly  mouse,  he  finally 
escaped  with  the  treasures  of  the  god,  and  forced 
him  to  give  the  advice  he  sought  (Aston,  106 ; 
Ko-ji-ki,  71  ff. ).  This  myth  of  descent  includes 
some  common  Marchen  formulae.  Herodotus  (ii. 
122)  relates  an  Egyptian  story  of  Rhampsinitus 
(Ramses  III.)  to  the  effect  that  he  descended  to 
Hades  and  played  at  dice  with  Demeter  (Isis), 
sometimes  winning,  sometimes  losing,  and  that  he 
ascended,  bringing  with  him  as  a  gift  from  her  a 
napkin  of  gold. 

This  tale  is  not  corroborated  from  the  monuments  or  texts. 
Possibly  it  is  a  distorted  form  of  the  myth  of  Thoth's  winning 
the  five  days  of  the  epact  from  the  moon  at  a  game  of  dice  (Plut. 
de  Isid.  12).  Sayce  suggests  that  the  myth  may  have  been 
affixed  to  the  name  of  Ramses  in  consequence  of  a  representa- 
tion on  his  temple  of  his  playing  at  dice  with  a  woman  (Ancient 
Emp.  of  the  Bast,  1883,  p.  92).  The  dead  played  at  a  game 
with  counters,  and  the  story  of  Setne  tells  how,  having 
descended  into  the  tomb  of  Neneferkaptah  in  order  to  obtain 
his  magical  book,  he  played  a  game  at  draughts  with  him  and 
was  beaten,  but  eventually  escaped  with  it  by  magical  means 
(Griffith,  13  ff.). 

A  Hindu  myth  in  the  Katha-Upanishad  tells 
how  Nachiketas,  delivered  by  his  father  to  death, 
remained  without  food  in  the  kingdom  of  Yama, 
who  granted  him  fulfilment  of  three  wishes. 
Nachiketas  then  desired  his  restoration  to  life  and 
reconciliation  to  his  father,  the  knowledge  of  the 
sacrificial  fire,  and  the  knowledge  of  the  nature  of 
death.  Yama  offered  him  gifts  if  he  would  forego 
the  last  wish,  but  he  was  insistent  and  it  was 
granted  to  him  (Oldenberg,  Buddha,  London,  1882, 
p.  55).  The  visit  of  Odysseus  to  the  shades  to 
inquire  of  the  ghost  of  Tiresias  (Od.  xi.),  and  the 
descent  of  ./Eneas  to  speak  with  his  father 
Anchises(^®K.  vi.),  are  well-known  poetic  examples 
of  seeking  a  boon  from  the  world  of  the  dead. 
The  myth  of  Psyche,  related  by  Apuleius  in  his 
Metamorphoses,  tells  how,  among  the  tasks  exacted 
of  her  before  she  recovered  Eros,  was  that  of  going 
down  to  Hades  to  bring  back  from  Persephone  a 
box  of  beauty.  Through  innumerable  perils,  and 
sustained  by  the  love  of  Eros,  she  succeeded  and 
returned  to  earth,  where  she  opened  the  box,  to 
find,  not  beauty,  but  a  deadly  sleep.  The  myth  of 
the  descent  of  Herakles  to  bring  the  dog  Cerberus 
from  Hades  (one  of  the  labours  exacted  by  Eurys- 
theus)  is  mentioned  by  Homer,  who  says  that 
Hermes  and  Athene  escorted  him  (Od.  xi.  626, 
H.  viii.  367).  But  the  myth  was  later  amplified, 
and  we  learn  how  he  descended  by  the  entrance 
near  Cape  Tsenarum.  After  many  exploits,  in- 
cluding the  liberation  of  Theseus,  he  demanded  per- 
mission from  Pluto  to  carry  off  the  hound.  This 
was  granted  provided  he  did  it  without  weapons. 
On  the  shore  of  Acheron  he  met  Cerberus,  and, 
seizing  him  by  the  throat,  ascended  with  him  to 
earth,  showed  him  to  Eurystheus,  and  then  re- 
turned with  him  to  Hades  (Apollod.  ii.  5.  12). 

Those  who  have  seen  a  parallel  between  the 
labours  of  Herakles  and  the  adventures  of  the  Bab. 
Gilgames,  and  a  possible  derivation  of  the  former 
from  the  latter,  point  to  the  likeness  between  the 
journey  of  Herakles  to  Hades  and  that  of  Gilgames 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  world,  through  dangers 
and  darkness,  across  the  ocean  and  the  Waters 
of  Deay»  (probably  connected  with  the  River  of 
Death  in  AraM,  or  Hades),  to  the  paradise  of  Ut- 
napistim,  that  he  might  learn  from  him  the 
secret  of  immortality  (Sayce,  Bel.  of  Anc.  Egypt 
and   Bab.,  1902,  pp.  436 ff.,  446;  ERE  ii.   316"; 


Jastrow,  516).  In  another  Bab.  myth,  the  pur- 
pose of  which  may  have  been  to  show  how  a  god 
superseded  the  ancient  goddess  of  Hades,  a  conflict 
having  arisen  between  the  gods  and  Eresh-kigal, 
goddess  of  Hades,  Nergal  was  chosen  to  descend  to 
the  under  world.  He  arrived  there,  passed  through 
gate  after  gate  (fourteen  in  all),  dragged  the  goddess 
from  her  throne,  and  would  have  slain  her.  But  she 
begged  for  mercy,  and  offered  to  become  his  wife 
and  to  give  him  dominion  in  Hades,  which  he 
accepted  (Winckler-Abel,  Der  Thontafelfund  von 
El-Amama,  Berlin,  1891,  iii.  164;  Sayce,  288, 
428). 1 

In  Scandinavian  myth,  Odin,  in  order  to  discover 
the  cause  of  Balder's  evil  dreams,  rode  down  to 
Niflhel,  till  he  reached  the  hall  where  mead  was 
standing  brewed  for  Balder.  He  roused  the  Sibyl 
from  her  barrow  by  spells,  and  learned  from  her 
the  tidings  of  Balder's  fate  (Vigfusson-Powell, 
i.  181  ff.).  For  Celtic  myths  of  visits  to  the  under 
world  (or  to  Elysium)  to  obtain  the  gifts  of 
civilization,  see  Blest,  Abode  of  the  (Celtic),  §  7. 
Mandaean  mythology  presents  an  interesting  myth 
of  the  descent  of  Hibil  Ziwa,  before  the  creation 
of  the  world,  to  the  lower  realms,  in  order  to  fore- 
stall the  revolt  of  their  rulers  against  the  powers 
of  light.  He  descends  in  the  might  of  the  great 
Raza  (an  embodiment  of  the  mysterious  Name)  to 
the  seven  worlds  of  darkness  (not,  of  course,  the 
regions  of  the  dead). 

In  each  world  to  which  he  descends  he  remains  for  many 
thousands  of  years,  unknown  to  and  unseen  by  its  lord. 
Finally  he  reaches  the  seventh  and  lowest  world,  and  speaks  to  its 
lord,  the  giant  Krun.  Krun  partially  swallows  him,  but  Hibil 
cuts  his  inwards  to  pieces  and  is  disgorged,  and  obtains  from 
him  a  pass  and  seal-ring  by  which  the  might  of  the  opposing 
demon  will  be  brought  to  nought.  Then  he  ascends,  -sealing 
the  doors  of  each  world  60  that  none  can  pass  through.  In  the 
fourth  world  he  takes  the  form  of  its  ruler  and  obtains  by  craft 
the  Memra  and  Gemra,  the  strength  of  the  world  of  darkness. 
By  a  similar  change  of  form  he  learns  the  secrets  of  the  third 
world,  and  obtains  its  magic  mirror.  Then  he  leaves  it,  taking 
with  him  Ruha,  daughter  of  its  lord,  pregnant  with  Ur,  the 
demon  who  is  to  oppose  the  worlds  of  light.  Finally,  after 
sealing  all  the  doors  of  the  worlds,  he  returns  to  the  light 
kingdom,  and  is  hailed  with  joy.  The  remainder  of  the  myth 
describes  his  repeated  unseen  visits  to  the  imprisoned  Ruha 
and  Ur,  his  robbing  Ur  of  his  magical  talismans,  and  his  final 
overpowering  of  him  (Brandt,  Mand.  Schriften,  Gottingen,  1893, 
p.  138 ff.).  The  story  is  full  of  well-known  folk-tale  formulas, 
and,  while  the  descent  through  seven  worlds  recalls  that  of  I£tar, 
the  main  incident  is  based  on  that  of  Marduk's  strife  with  the 
dragon  of  chaos,  Tiamat  (cf.  Brandt,  Mand.  Rel.,  Leipzig,  1889, 
p.  182).  Another  myth  relates  how  Manda  d'Hayye  descends  to 
the  lower  worlds  and  conquers  Ruha  and  Ur.  Afterwards  Ruha 
and  her  sons  assemble  on  Mt.  Carmel  and  plan  a  revolution 
against  the  powers  of  light.  Manda  appears  among  them  in 
their  own  form,  whereupon  they  desire  to  make  him  their  ruler. 
He  agrees  on  condition  that  they  reveal  to  him  the  secrets  of 
their  mysteries.  When  they  have  done  this,  he  manifests  him- 
self in  his  true  form  and  overpowers  them  (Brandt,  Mand.  Rel. 
34,  38 ;  Norberg,  Codex  Nasarams,  1815-6,  i.  223). 

For  a  Buriat  instance  of  descent  to  seek  a  boon, 
see  ERE  iii.  9a,  and  for  a  Quiche  myth  of  two 
heroes  descending  and  overcoming  the  lords  of  the 
under  world,  ib.  308a. 

5.  Descent  out  of  curiosity. — This  motive  is 
occasionally  met  with.  In  an  Ainu  example  a 
youth,  learning  that  a  certain  cave  led  to  Hades, 
entered  it,  and,  after  passing  through  darkness, 
found  himself  in  a  beautiful  land  where  he  saw 
many  of  his  friends  and  relatives.  On  his  return 
he  met  a  spirit  descending,  which  proved  to  be 
that  of  a  dear  friend  who  had  just  died  (Batchelor, 
226  ;  cf.  a  variant  in  Chamberlain,  Aino  Folk-tales, 
1888,  p.  42,  where  the  visitor  is  ignominiously 
treated  and  never  wishes  to  see  Hades  again). 
Several  Norse  tales,  reminiscent  of  earlier  pagan 
beliefs,  describe  the  adventures  of  mortals  who  set 
out  to  seek  the  Land  of  Living  Men,  part  of  the 
older  under  world  (for  these  see  BLEST,  Abode  OF 
the  [Teutonic],  §  4  ;  and  for  Amer.  Ind.  instance, 
ERE  iii.  230"). 

1  Jastrow  (586)  thinks  that  it  may  originally  have  been  told 
of  Nergal  that,  like  Tamniuz,  he  was  carried  o/into  Hades. 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Ethnic) 


653 


6.  Descent  to  free  the  damned. — The  freeing  of 
a  soul  in  pain  in  Hades  has  already  been  found  in 
Hindu  instances.  This  idea,  as  well  as  that  of  the 
general  release  of  the  damned  or  the  amelioration 
of  their  tortures,  is  a  natural  outgrowth  of  existing 
legends  of  rescue  from  Hades,  but  it  occurs  mainly 
in  Eastern  instances.  Several  myths  of  this  kind 
are  found  in  Hindu  and  Buddhist  mythology. 

In  the  Rdmdyana  (vii.  21  f.),  Havana  enters  hell,  and,  as  he 
enters,  the  darkness  flies  away,  and  the  damned,  whom  he 
desires  to  free,  experience  an  unexpected  happiness.  He  en- 
counters Yauia  in  fight,  and  would  have  been  worsted  but  for  the 
help  of  Brahma,  to  whose  will  Yama  bows  and  leaves  Ravana 
victor.  In  the  Mahtibhdrata  (xvii.  3-xviii.  4),  Yudhisthira  is 
subjected  to  a  last  test  by  the  gods.  When  he  reaches  heaven, 
he  learns  that  his  relations  are  in  hell,  and  beseeches  the  gods 
to  let  him  share  their  dwelling.  '  What  is  heaven  without 
them?  Only  where  they  are  is  my  heaven.'  He  is  conducted 
thither,  and,  on  his  coming,  a  cool  wind  arises  and  the  torments 
cease.  He  refuses  to  leave  hell,  since  his  presence  makes  its 
denizens  happy.  Now  the  gods  appear,  and  he  learns  that  all 
he  has  undergone  is  but  a  trial  of  his  faith.  For  a  descent  of 
Visnu  with  similar  results  to  the  damned,  see  Dubois,  Hindu 
Manners,  Oxford,  1897,  p.  706.  In  other  cases,  those  who  have 
transgressed  slightly  and  are  sent  to  hell  suffer  only  for- 
mally because  of  their  virtues,  and  are  given  an  opportunity 
to  free  the  damned,  e.g.  Janaka  in  the  Padma  Purdna  (Wilson, 
J  HAS  v.  295). 

In  the  Lalita  Vistara,  at  several  moments  of  Buddha's 
existence — when  he  descends  from  heaven,  on  his  journey  to 
Bodhimanda,  and  at  Benares — a  marvellous  light  is  said  to  have 
been  projected  from  his  body  which  lit  up  by  its  splendour  the 
3000  worlds,  caused  all  evil,  suffering,  and  fear  to  cease,  and 
filled  all  beings  with  joy.  This  extended  even  to  the  hell  Avichi, 
the  region  of  the  pretas,  and  the  kingdom  of  Yama.  Darkness 
was  dissipated,  and  all  beings  there  suffering  from  thirst  and 
hunger,  or  other  torment,  found  themselves  free  from  pain 
and  were  filled  with  great  joy.  At  Buddha's  birth  he  prophesies 
that,  in  order  to  destroy  the  fires  of  hell,  he  will  cause  the  rain 
from  the  great  cloud  of  the  law  to  fall,  and  all  beings  there  will 
be  glad.  At  that  moment  the  sufferings  of  all  in  Avichi  and  the 
kingdom  of  Yama  were  appeased  (Lai.  Vist.  51,  240,  257,  341, 
79,  80,  in  AMG,  vol.  vi.,  Paris,  1SS4).  The  North  Buddhist 
legend  of  Avalokitesvara,  '  he  who  shows  the  damned  the  way 
to  Nirvana,'  furnishes  a  striking  instance  of  this  group  of 
descent-stories.  It  was  said  in  the  Saddharma-Pundarika  (c.  24) 
that  he  would  bring  all  misery  to  an  end,  including  the  tor- 
ments of  Yama's  kingdom.  To  effect  this,  he  visits  the  hell 
Avichi  as  a  glorious  prince  clad  in  light,  and  frees  the  victims 
from  their  pains.  Mild  air  takes  the  place  of  flames,  the 
cauldron  of  boiling  water  in  which  men  suffer  bursts,  and  the 
sea  of  fire  becomes  a  pool  with  lotus  flowers.  Hell  becomes  a 
place  of  joy,  and  Yama  shows  him  reverence.  The  saving  work 
is  pursued  in  the  city  of  the  pretas,  where  Avalokitesvara 
frees  its  denizens  from  torments  and,  granting  the  gift  of  right 
knowledge  to  the  damned,  leads  them  as  Bodhisattvas  to  the 
Sukhavati  world  (Cowell,  JPh  vi.  [1873]  222  ff. ;  for  a  Tibetan 
legend  of  a  similar  kind,  see  Rockhill,  Land  of  the  Lamas, 
1891,  p.  331  f.).  In  a  Chinese  Buddhist  myth,  the  soul  of  the 
goddess  Kwanyin  visits  hell  in  trance,  and  by  her  invocation  of 
Amitabha  a  rain  of  flowers  falls,  the  implements  of  torments 
break,  hell  is  changed  to  Paradise,  and  the  damned  return  to 
earth.  The  lords  of  hell  desire  to  hear  this  mighty  prayer,  and 
their  wish  is  granted  on  the  stipulation  that  all  souls  attain  to 
redemption.  At  this  point  she  awakes  from  her  trance  (Eitel, 
Three  Led.  on  Bud.,  1871,  p.  31 ;  de  Groot,  AUG  xi.  [1886]  188ff.). 
In  a  Tibetan  myth,  as  soon  as  a  new  Tathagata  descends  to  the 
under  world  and  sounds  the  mussel-trumpet  (= proclamation  of 
the  sacred  doctrine),  all  who  hear  its  sound  are  saved  and  go  to 
the  heaven  Tusita  (Scherman,  66,  note  2). 

In  other  instances  the  belief  in  metempsychosis  is  utilized  to 
show  the  experiences  of  the  narrator  in  a  former  state.  While 
in  hell,  a  Brahman  experiences  a  sudden  cessation  of  torture 
and  a  joy  as  of  paradise.  This  is  caused  by  the  arrival  of  a 
king,  Vipaschit,  who  has  committed  a  small  fault.  Having 
expiated  it,  he  is  bidden  to  go  to  heaven ;  but  the  damned  beg 
him  to  remain  as  his  presence  relieves  their  miseries.  Yama 
and  Indra  beg  him  to  go,  but  he  demands  that  his  virtues  may 
ranBom  sinners  from  hell.  He  is  raised  to  a  higher  state,  and 
the  narrator  and  others  inlhell  attain  a  new  existence  free  from 
torture  (Mdrkandeya  Purdna,  xiiiff.,  in  Scherman,  38  ff.). 

In  later  Judaism  similar  ideas  were  current, 
sometimes  in  connexion  with  the  Messiah.  Thus 
in  Bereshith  Rabba,  regarding  the  appearance  of 
Messiah  at  the  gates  of  Gehinnom,  it  is  said  : 

'  But,  when  they  that  are  bound,  they  that  are  in  Gehinnom, 
saw  the  light  of  the  Messiah,  they  rejoiced  to  receive  him, 
saying,  He  will  lead  us  forth  from  this  darkness,  as  it  is  said 
(Hos  1314),  "  I  will  redeem  them  from  hell,  from  death  I  will  set 
them  free,"  and  so  says  Isaiah  (3510)  "  The  ransomed  of  the  Lord 
will  return  and  come  to  Zion."  By  "  Zion  "  is  to  be  understood 
Paradise  ;  and  in  another  passage,  "  This  is  that  which  stands 
written,  We  shall  rejoice  and  exult  in  Thee.  When  ?  When  the 
captives  climb  up  out  of  hell,  with  the  Shechinah  at  their  head  " ' 
(Weber2,  358;  Bertholdt,  Christologia  Judceorum,  Erlangen, 
1811,  p.  170  ff.). 

In  Yalkut  Shimoni  the  godless  are  rescued  from 


hell  by  the  righteous  dead  and  pass  to  eternal  life, 
whiie  in  the  Zohar  the  righteous  or  the  patriarchs 
are  said  to  descend  to  hell  to  rescue  sinners  from 
the  place  of  torment  {Gfrorer,  Jahrhundert  des 
Eeils,  Stuttgart,  1838,  ii.  77,  184;  Weber2,  343). 

Later  Muhammadan  theology  describes  how  the 
righteous  souls  intercede  for  their  brethren  de- 
tained on  the  bridge  which  passes  through  hell  to 
Paradise.  They  are  sent  to  hell  to  see  if  any 
there  have  faith,  and  finding  such  they  bring  them 
out.  These  are  then  washed  in  the  Water  of  Life 
and  admitted  to  Paradise  {JThSt  vi.  [1904]  35). 

In  Gnosticism  (save  in  the  case  of  Marcion  [Iren.  adv.  Boer, 
i.  27.  3])  the  descent  of  Christ  to  Hades  (see  next  art.)  is  trans- 
formed, and  shows  the  influence  of  pagan  myths  of  a  deliverer. 
The  Divine  tton  descends  not  to  Hades,  but  to  the  dark  earth- 
world  to  conquer  the  world  rulers  and  to  spoil  them  of  spiritual 
souls  imprisoned  in  bodies.  As  He  passes  through  the  spheres 
of  the  heavens  He  is  invisible,  or  takes  the  form  of  these  rulers, 
and  so  deceives  them  or  robs  them  of  their  might  (Iren.  i. 
23. 3,  i.  30. 12 ;  Hippol.  viii.  10 ;  cf.  Ascension  of  Isaiah,  103-1119). 
Through  Gnosticism  the  later  form  of  the  orthodox  descent 
idea,  especially  in  the  tradition  of  the  binding  of  Satan,  may 
have  received  a  pagan  colouring.  Gnosticism  knew  also  of  a 
descent  of  the  Divine  ^Eon  out  of  the  Pleroma  to  rescue  the 
fallen  Sophia  (Iren.  i.  4.  1  f.),  and,  in  the  teaching  of  the  Valen- 
tinian  Theodotus,  He,  on  His  return  from  earth,  transfers  the 
souls  of  the  righteous  in  the  '  place  of  rest '  to  a  higher  region, 
the  place  of  Sophia  (Clem.  Alex.  Excerpt,  ex  Theod.  c.  18). 

In  various  Christian  documents  the  idea  of  the  transference 
of  souls  from  the  place  of  punishment  to  a  place  of  bliss,  at  the 
prayer  of  saints  on  earth,  is  found,  e.g.  Acts  of  Paul  and 
Thecla,  {  28;  Passio  Perpetuce,  §  7  ;  and  Test,  of  Abraham, 
§  14.  In  the  Apocalypses  of  Paul  and  of  the  Virgin,  in  which 
they  visit  hell,  they  and  the  angels  and  saints  pray  for  remis- 
sion of  tortures  to  the  lost.  Christ  descends  and  announces 
that  on  the  Lord's  day  or  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  this  will  be 
granted. 

7.  In  many  European  folk-tales  a  visit  is  paid  by 
a  mortal  (1)  to  a  subterranean  fairy-land  to  rescue 
a  stolen  person,  to  capture  a  treasure,  etc.,  or  (2) 
to  a  land  below  the  earth  or  the  sea  ruled  by  a 
mysterious  personage.  The  subterranean  land  is 
doubtless  a  reminiscence  of  the  old  pagan  under 
world,  and  the  submarine  region  the  old  mythic 
world  of  sea-divinities  (CF  44 ;  Scott,  Minstrelsy, 
1839,  p.  195  f.  ;  Wright,  85,  87).  Folk-tales  also 
recount  visits  to  the  Christian  hell,  where  the 
visitor  usually  outwits  the  devil  (Le  Braz,  ii.  337  ; 
Dottin,  Contes  et  Ugendes  d'Irlande,  1901,  p.  164; 
Larminie,  W.  Irish  Folk  Tales,  1893,  p.  188). 

8.  The  tabu  regarding  not  eating  the  food  of 
Hades  has  been  found  in  several  of  the  tales  and 
myths  cited,  and  it  also  occurs  in  stories  of  visits 
to  fairy -land,  as  well  as  in  many  other  myths  and 
eschatological  beliefs. 

Pluto  secretly  makes  Persephone  eat  seven  seeds  of  a  pome- 
granate, and  she  is  then  bound  to  him  in  Hades  {Horn.  Hymn 
to  Dem.  399).  In  Egyptian  belief  the  dead  who  ate  and  drank 
the  food  and  water  offered  them  by  a  goddess  could  not  re- 
turn without  special  permission  (Maspero,  Etudes  de  myth.  4g.t 
Paris,  1893,  ii.  226).  On  the  Orphic  tablets  buried  with  the  dead, 
they  are  bidden  to  avoid  a  certain  well  in  Hades  (Dieterich,  86). 
Those  who  visit  Yama's  kingdom  as  guests  are  bidden  not  to  eat 
his  food  (Muir,  Orig.  Skr.  Texts,  1858-72,  v.  320).  For  Teutonic 
instances,  see  ERE  ii.  709b,  and  for  a  Chinook  example, 
iii,  562b.  The  same  tabu  applies  to  the  visitor  to  Fairy-land, 
the  classic  example  being  found  in  the  ballad  of  Thomas  of 
Ercildoune.  See  also  Tylor,  ii.  47  ff .  Scott,  in  '  Wandering 
Willie's  Tale,'  Redgauntlet,  ch.  12,  speaks  of  the  visitor  to  hell 
refusing  '  the  devil's  arles,  for  such  was  the  offer  of  meat  and 
drink.' 

The  result  of  breaking  the  tabu — detention  in 
Hades,  etc. — is  derived  from  primitive  and  savage 
notions  regarding  food.  To  eat  the  food  of  a  strange 
tribe  establishes  kinshipwith  them  (see  Covenant). 
Hence  to  eat  the  food  of  gods,  ghosts,  or  fairies 
makes  the  eater  one  with  them,  and  he  must 
remain  with  them  (cf.  the  Bab.  myth  of  Adapa 
[Jastrow,  550];  the  *  Navajo  Mountain  Chant' 
[Mathews,  5  EBEW,  1887,  in  which  the  hero  is 
forbidden  to  eat  animals'  food  lest  he  become  an 
animal] ;  Parker,  More  Austr.  Legendary  Tales, 
1898,  p.  xi,  where  the  native  belief  is  noted  that 
for  a  child  to  touch  fungus  growing  on  trees  is  to 
make  him  liable  to  be  spirited  away  by  ghosts). 
The  tabu  imposed  on  Orpheus — not  to  look  back 


654 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Christ's) 


— is  frequently  found  both  in  ritual  and  magic, 
especially  in  under-world  rites  (see  CROSS-ROADS), 
and  may  be  explained  by  the  idea  that  man  may 
not  gaze  with  impunity  on  what  pertains  to  a 
supernatural  plane,  lest  it  harm  him  or  force  him 
to  join  the  under- world  ghosts. 

Literature. — E.  J.  Becker,  Cont.  to  Comparative  Study  of 
the  Medieval  Visions  of  Heaven  and  Hell,  Baltimore,  1899  ;  P. 
de  Felice,  L' Autre  Monde,  mytkes  et  Ugendes,  Paris,  1906; 
Labitte,  '  La  Divine  Comedie  avant  Dante,'  RDM,  4th  ser., 
xxxi.  730 ;  J.  Monnier,  La  Deseente  aux  enfers :  dtude  de 
pensie  relig.,  d'art,  et  de  littirature,  Paris,  1906  ;  L.  Scherman, 
Materialen  zur  Gesch.  der  ind.  Visionslitteratur,  Leipzig,  1892  ; 
E.  B.  Tyler,  Prim.  Cutt.\  1903,  ch.  13  ;  J.  A.  MacCulloch, 
Early  Christian  Visions  of  the  Other-  World,  Edinburgh,  1912. 
See  also  the  literature  cited  throughout  the  article. 

J.  A.  MacCulloch. 
DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Christ's).— i.  Sum- 
mary.— The  Descensus  Christi  ad  inferos  is  an 
article  in  the  doctrinal  tradition  of  the  entire 
Christian  Church,  but  the  several  main  divisions 
of  the  Church,  viz.  the  Eastern  or  '  Orthodox '  (§  2), 
the  Roman  Catholic  (§  3),  the  Lutheran  (§  4),  and 
the  Reformed  Churches  (§  5),  differ  greatly  from 
one  another  in  their  Confessional  interpretations 
of  the  doctrine.  Moreover,  while  in  Protestantism 
generally  the  older  views  have  in  modern  times 
been  abandoned,  yet  not  a  few  theologians  have 
essayed  to  interpret  the  doctrine  on  fresh  lines 
(§  6).  These  attempts  at  reconstruction,  it  is 
true,  fail  to  find  justification  either  in  Scripture 
(§  7)  or  in  early  Church  tradition  (§  8).  Neverthe- 
less, the  idea  of  the  Descensus  is  well  worthy  of 
our  interest,  as  its  original  meaning,  which  is  not 
identical  with  any  of  the  Confessional  views  (§  9), 
is  bound  up  with  certain  fundamental  conceptions 
in  the  primitive  Christian  interpretation  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  probably  asserts  itself  here  and  there 
in  the  NT  as  a  presupposition  in  the  minds  of  the 
writers  (§  10).  The  endeavour  to  trace  the  idea 
to  influences  from  non-Christian  religions  is  thus 
quite  unwarranted  (§  11).  The  Descensus  belongs 
in  fact  to  a  group  of  primitive  Christian  con- 
ceptions which  are  inseparable  from  views  then 
current  but  now  abandoned,  and  which  accordingly 
can  now  be  appraised  only  in  a  historical  sense, 
i.e.  as  expressions  of  Christian  beliefs  which,  while 
adequate  enough  for  their  time,  have  at  length 
become  obsolete  (§  12). 

2.  The  doctrine  in  the  Greek  Church. — In  the 
Greek,  or  rather  the  Eastern  or  '  Orthodox ' 
Churches  the  two  wrongly  so-called  Ecumenical 
Creeds  which  contain  the  clause  '  descendit  ad 
inferos,'  viz.  the  Symbolum  Apostolicum  and  the 
Symbolum  Athanasianum,  are  not  recognized, 
while  their  own  Creed,  the  so-called  Nicceno-Con- 
stantinopolitanum — the  third  of  the  '  Ecumenical ' 
Symbols — makes  no  mention  of  the  Descensus. 
This  explains  why  even  the  more  elaborate  cate- 
chetical manuals  emanating  from  these  Churches 
sometimes  ignore  the  doctrine  altogether  {e.g. 
Konstantinos,  KaT-fixn<ns,  Athens,  1868,  p.  46  f.). 
None  the  less,  however,  is  the  Descensus  an  element 
in  the  Eastern  tradition.  Even  discounting  the 
testimony  of  the  Confessio  orthodoxa  of  Petrus 
Mogilas  (i.  49  [Kimmel,  Libri  symbolici  ecclesiae 
orientalis,  Jena,  1843,  p.  118  f.]),  and  the  wholly 
unauthoritative  Confessio  Metrophanis  Critopuli 
(Kimmel,  Appendix  libror.  symbol,  etc.,  Jena, 
1850,  pp.  73-76),  which  both  show  a  leavening  of 
Western  thought,  and  whose  statements  regarding 
the  Descensus,  therefore,  may  have  been  framed 
under  that  influence,  we  have  the  less  questionable 
evidence  of  genuinely  Eastern  Church  catechisms 
of  the  present  day,  as,  also  of  recent  expositions  of 
the  Eastern  theology.1 

1  Cf.  Philaret,  Longer  Catechism,  quest.  213-216,  in  Biblio- 
fheca  symbolica,  ed.  P.  Schaff,  ii.  (New  York,  1890)  477  f. ; 
Bernardakis,  'Iepa  Kanj^Tjo-is,  Constantinople,  1872,  p.  122 ; 
Kalliphron,  'Op0o5o£os  iepa  KanjXTjtris,  Constantinople,  1880, 
p.  58;  Macaire  (Makarioa),  Thiolbgie  dogmatique  orthodoxe ; 


In  the  '  Orthodox  '  tradition  the  Descensus,  i)  elt 
"AlSov  uddooos  (Androutsos,  p.  211),  is  universally 
regarded  as  an  act  of  the  soul  of  Jesus,  occurring 
during  the  interval  in  which  His  body  rested  in 
the  tomb,  and  belonging  to  the  munus  regium — 
His  soul,  however,  still  maintaining  its  unity  with 
the  Godhead  or  Logos.  Other  elements  universally 
recognized  are  the  triumph  of  Christ  '  over  Hades,' 
or  'over  death,'  which  ensued  as  a  result  of  His 
Descensus,  His  preaching  of  salvation  in  Hades, 
and  His  deliverance  of  certain  spirits  held  captive 
there.  Moreover,  it  is  only  in  appearance  that 
there  is  some  dubiety  as  to  the  persons  to  whom 
Christ  preached  and  brought  deliverance  (cf. 
Androutsos) ;  for  such  dubiety  arises  purely  from 
consideration  of  the  difficult  passage  in  1  Peter, 
which,  together  with  Ac  2s7,  Eph  49,  and  other 
texts,  is  usually  cited  as  the  Scripture  authority 
for  the  doctrine  ;  and  it  is  agreed  by  all — even  by 
Metrophanes  Critopulos  (cf.  p.  75 :  els  airrbv  ijdn 
mo-Teiaaaiv) — that  the  tradition  limits  the  deliver- 
ance effected  by  Christ  to  the  OT  saints  who 
believed  in  the  Messiah.  Nay,  Makarios  duly 
rejects  as  unwarranted  every  attempt  to  widen 
this  limit,  and  Androutsos,  in  whose  judgment  the 
'  most  probable '  hypothesis  is  that  the  deliverance 
was  restricted  to  the  OT  saints,  states  explicitly  : 
Kad6\ov  5e  i]  oo'|a,  dVi  inrapxei  Kal  [iera  davarov 
4-jrLffTpotp^  Kal  aurrwpla,  irpoaicpovei  irpbs  ras  6efLe\iu>deis 
toO  XpuTTiapurfjLOu  dXndelas  (p.  211). 

It  must,  nevertheless,  be  admitted  that  the 
'  Orthodox '  tradition  shows  here  some  ambiguity 
and  inconsistency.  This  arises  from  the  prevailing 
views  regarding  the  destiny  of  the  soul  after  death. 
As  regards  the  state  of  the  soul  in  the  period 
between  the  particular  judgment  which  follows 
immediately  upon  death  and  the  universal  judg- 
ment at  the  Last  Day,  the  theology  of  the  Eastern 
Church,  when  not  dealing  with  the  Descensus, 
recognizes  two  alternatives :  the  souls  of  the  dead 
either  enter  a  provisional  state  of  salvation,  viz. 
Paradise  (Lk  2343),  Abraham's  bosom  (Lk  16z2),  or 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  (Mt  25s4,  Lk  1329,  2  Ti  418, 
2  P  ln) ;  or  they  go  to  the  provisional  place  of 
punishment,  i.e.  Hades  (Lk  1623),  Gehenna  (Mt 
522.  2sk.>(  or  <tne  furnaCe  of  fire'  (Mt  1342-  w), 
from  which  there  is  a  possible  transition  to 
Paradise  before  the  Last  Day.  But,  when  the 
Descensus  is  expressly  in  question,  Hades  is  mani- 
festly regarded  as  the  habitation  of  all  departed 
spirits  (cf.  Kalliphron,  p.  58 :  els  rbv  "AcSnv  frroi 
rb  KaTOLKTrrrjpiov  airavruv  twv  dV  aluivos  redveuirtav). 
Now,  if  Paradise  be  simply  one  of  the  sections  of 
Hades,  existing  as  such  before  Christ's  descent  into 
the  lower  world,  one  fails  to  see  what  advantage 
or  deliverance  His  action  wrought  for  the  OT 
saints.  But,  if  it  was  the  deliverance  from  Hades 
which  first  secured  the  entrance  of  the  saints  of 
old  into  Paradise,  then  the  '  Abraham's  bosom '  of 
Lk  1623  cannot  be  identical  with  the  'Paradise' 
of  Lk  23**,  and  we  ask  in  vain  what  it  really  is. 
Finally,  the  union  in  Paradise  mentioned  in  Lk 
2313  is  assuredly  not  to  be  thought  of  as  transient 
merely,  for  it  is  impossible  to  think  of  the  glorified 
Christ  as  remaining  permanently  in  the  provisional 
state  of  salvation. 

3.  Roman  Catholic  doctrine. — These  obscurities 
are  avoided  by  the  Roman  Catholic  doctrine  (cf. 
Wetzer-Welte,  Kirchenlex.*,  Freiburg,  1882-1903, 
vi.  124-139,  and  the  literature  given  there).  The 
dogma  declaratum,  it  is  true,  is  simply  that 
Christ — as  is  affirmed  by  the  Apostolicum  and  the 
Athanasianum — 'descendit  ad  inferos'  in  the 
interval  between  His  burial  and  His  resurrection, 
and  that  in  this  Descensus  His  soul  '  per  se,  non 
per  potentiam  tan  turn  descendit'  [Cone.  Senon., 

trad,  par  un  Russe,  Paris,  1859-60,  ii.  196  ff. ;    Androutaoa 
£.oyna.riKri,  Athens,  1907,  pp.  211-214). 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Christ's) 


665 


anni  1140;  Denzinger,  Enchiridion  symbolorum I0, 
Freiburg,  1908,  no.  385).  The  Symbol  of  the 
fourth  Synod  of  Toledo  (633)  certainly  supplements 
the  stereotyped  Article  with  a  clause  expressing 
the  purpose  of  the  Descent,  viz.  '  ut  sanctos,  qui 
ibidem  tenebantur,  erueret'  (Hahn,  Bibliothek  d. 
Symbole3,  Breslau,  1897,  p.  236),  but  that  Symbol 
cannot  be  regarded  as  doctrinally  binding  upon 
the  Catholic  Church  as  a  whole,  while  the  Gate- 
chismus  Romanus,  which  deals  very  fully  with 
the  Descensus  (i.  6,  quajst.  1-6),  has  only  a  '  high 
dogmatic,  but  no  primary  symbolic  authority ' 
(Kirchenlex*.  xi.  1055).  There  is,  nevertheless,  no 
manner  of  doubt  that  every  Article  in  which  the 
modern  catechisms  agree  with  the  Catechismus 
Romanus  is  to  be  claimed  as  Catholic  doctrine  in 
the  sense  of  dogma  formate  (ib.  iii.  1884).  Hence 
the  official  Catholic  doctrine  of  the  Descensus  is 
as  follows. ! 

The  scene  of  the  Descent  is  laid  in  the  place 
'  in  quo  animae  sanctorum  ante  Christi  domini 
adventum  excipiebantur '  (Cat.  Rom.  i.  6.  3),  i.e. 
the  forecourt  of  Hell  (Deharbe,  qu.  231,  etc.),  the 
limbus  patrum  (Simar,  i.  538 ;  Compendio,  p.  79), 
or  the  sinus  Abrahae  (Lk  1622,  Cat.  Rom.,  toe.  cit.). 
For  '  antequam  Christus  moreretur  et  resurgeret, 
coeli  portae  nemini  unquam  patuerunt'  (cf.  He  98"8  j 
Cat.  Rom.,  toe.  cit.  qu.  6).  It  was  into  this  limbus 
patrum,  accordingly,  that  Christ  in  His  Spirit — 
not  '  per  potentiam  tanturn,'  but  '  re  et  praesentia' 
(Cat.  Rom.,  toe.  cit.  qu.  4) — descended,  in  order  to 
manifest  His  power  and  glory  even  in  the  under 
world  (Deharbe,  qu.  233.  2  ;  Cat.  Rom.,  loc.  cit. 
qu.  6  :  '  ereptis  daemonum  spoliis ')  and  to  comfort 
and  deliver  the  souls  of  the  just  held  captive  there, 
i.e.  to  take  them  to  Heaven  (Cat.  Rom.,  loc.  cit. 
qu.  3  and  6;  Deharbe,  qu.  233.  1,  and  241).  All 
this  is  probably  clear  enough  to  the  laity  ;  but 
the  theologians  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
encounter  difficulties  in  regard  to  Christ's  repose 
in  the  sepulchre,  and  the  passages  Lk  23^,  Ac  Is, 
and  1  P  319'-.  All  Catholic  theologians  solve  the 
first  difficulty  in  the  same  way  as  the  Cat.  Rom. 
with  the  help  of  Scholastic  logic  solves  it : 

'Christo  jam  niortuo,  ejus  anima  ad  inferos  descendit  ibique 
tamdiu  mansit,  quamdiu  ejus  corpus  in  sepulchro  fuit ;  eadem 
Christi  persona  eo  tempore  et  apud  inferos  fuit  et  in  sepulchro 
jacuit,  propterea  quod,  quamvis  anima  a  corpore  discesserit, 
numquam  tamen  divinitas  vel  ab  anima  vel  a  corpore  separata 
est '  (qu.  1). 

A  second  difficulty  arises  from  the  fact  that  in 
Lk  2343  the  place  in  which  Christ  tarried  after  His 
death  and  on  the  day  of  His  burial  is  given  as 
'  Paradise.'  Now,  clear  as  is  the  distinction  drawn 
by  many  theologians,  in  harmony  with  the  Cat. 
Rom.,  between  Limbus  (which  involves  no  '  poena 
damni '  but  only  the  '  carentia  visionis  Dei '  [cf . 
Loofs,  Symbolik,  Tub.  1902,  i.  270]  and  in  which, 
according  to  the  Cat.  Rom.  [loc.  cit.  qu.  3],  the 
fathers  '  sine  ullo  doloris  sensu,  beata  redemptionis 
spe  sustentati,  quieta  habitatione  fruebantur ')  and 
the  Gehenna  damnatorum,  the  former  is  neverthe- 
less a  part  of  the  inferi,  of  Hell.  Is  it  permissible 
then  to  locate  'Paradise'  in  Hell  (cf.  Kirchenlex2. 
vi.  130)  ?  Many  theologians  have  done  so  without 
misgiving  (cf.  Martin,  ii.  93 :  '  forecourt  of  Hell,' 
sinus  Abrahae  or  limbus  patrum,  also  simply  called 
'  Paradise ') ;  but  sometimes  a  distinction  is  made 

1  Besides  the  Cat.  Rom.,  cf.  G.  Bareille,  he  Catichisme  romain, 
ou  Venseignement  de  la  doctrine  chrUienne,  Montrejeau,  1907  ff., 
ii.  8S6-403 ;  J.  Deharbe,  Grosser  Katechismus,  Regensburg, 
New  York,  and  Cincinnati,  1896 ;  Grosser  Rat.  fiir  samtliche 
Bistiimer  Bayerns,  Regensburg,  1904  ;  Rath.  Eat.  f.  d.  Diocese 
Trier,  Treves,  1888;  Kath.  Eat.  f.  d.  Bistum  Mainz,  Mainz, 
1886;  Eath.  Eat.  f.  d.  Bistum  Paderborn,  Paderborn,  1892; 
Eat.  d.  kath.  Religion,  herausg.  auf  Be/ehl  d.  hochwiirdiqsten 
Eerrn  Dr.  K.  J.  v.  Befele,  Bischo/s  v.  Rottenburg,  Freiburg, 
1889 ;  Cat.  du  diocese  de  Paris,  Paris,  1897 ;  Compendio  delta 
dottrina  cristiana  ad  uso  deW  arcidiocesi  di  Torino,  Turin, 
1893 ;  cf.  Th.  Hub.  Simar  (t  as  archbp.  of  Cologne,  1902),  Lehrb. 
der  Dogmatik*,  2  vols.,  Freiburg,  1899,  i.  638-541 ;  K.  Martin 
ft  as  bishop  of  Paderborn),  Lehrb.  d.  kath.  Religion^,  2  pta., 
Mainz,  1873,  ii.  92  f. 


between  paradisus  inferior  and  paradisus  superior 
(  =  Heaven).  The  Cat.  Rom.,  whose  interpretation 
is  adopted  by  Kirchenlex.2  vi.  135  and  Simar 
(Dogmatik,  i.  538),  expounds  the  matter  more 
felicitously  thus : 

'Christi  aspectus  clarissimam  lucem  captivis  attulit,  eorum- 
que  animas  immensa  laetitia  gaudioque  implevit ;  quibus  etiam 
optatissiraam  beatitudinem,  quae  in  Dei  visione  consistit,  im- 
pertivit.  Quo  facto  id  comprobatum  eBt,  quod  latroni  pro- 
miserat  illis  verbis  Luc.  23,  43.' 

Here,  accordingly,  the  limbus  patrum,  which 
after  the  liberation  of  the  fathers  is  left  absolutely 
empty,  has,  in  virtue  of  Christ's  presence,  become 
Paradise  even  before  their  departure — has  been 
'  transformed,  so  to  speak,  into  a  heaven '  (Kirchen- 
lex?  vi.  135). 

With  this  particular  point,  however,  is  con- 
nected a  third  difficulty.  Christ  did  not  ascend 
to  Heaven  till  forty  days  after  His  departure  from 
Limbus,  and  only  then  'did  He  take  with  Him  to 
Heaven '  the  souls  of  the  just  whom  He  '  had 
liberated'  from  that  place  (Deharbe,  qu.  241). 
Where,  then,  were  the  souls  of  the  fathers  during 
these  forty  days?  For  attempts  to  answer  this 
question  the  curious  may  be  referred  to  Kirchen- 
lex.2(vi.  136). 

The  greatest  difficulty  of  all  is  presented  by 
1  P  319ff-  (cf.  46).  This  is  not  one  of  the  passages 
traditionally  cited  in  support  of  the  Descensus ; 
the  usual  dicta  probantia  are  Ac  2s4-  a- ",  Eph  4", 
Ko  107,  Mt  1210,  Hos  1314  (cf.  1  Co  15"'-),  Sir  24« 
('Penetrabo  omnes  inferiores  partes  terrae,  et 
inspiciam  omnes  dormientes,  et  illuminabo  omnes 
sperantes  in  Domino'),  Zee  9U  ('Tu  quoque  in 
sanguine  testamenti  tui  emisisti  vinctos  tuos  de 
lacu,  in  quo  non  est  aqua').  Augustine,  indeed, 
in  a  celebrated  letter  (ad  Evodium,  Ep.  clxiv., 
al.  xcix.  ;  Migne,  PL  xxxiii.  709-718),  which  in 
many  passages  reads  like  a  modern  treatise  on 
the  Descensus,  emphatically  denies  that  the  two 
Petrine  passages  bear  upon  the  subject  at  all  (op. 
cit.  5.  15,  p.  715,  and  7.  21,  p.  717).  He  explains 
1  P  319ff-  as  referring  to  a  preaching  of  the  pre- 
existent  Christ  to  the  contemporaries  of  Noah  who 
were  overwhelmed  in  their  sins  (loc.  cit.  6.  17, 
p.  716),  and  applies  46  to  a  preaching  of  the  gospel 
in  this  life  to  the  spiritually  dead  (7.  21,  p.  717  f.). 
And  this,  or  a  similar,  explanation  is  adopted, 
with  approval,  by  many  mediaeval  theologians, 
including  Thomas  Aquinas,  who  writes  (Summa, 
3.  52,  2  ad  3) : 

'  His  qui  in  carcere  conclusi  erant  viventes,  scilicet  in  corpore 
mortali,  quod  est  quasi  quidara  career  animae,  spiritu  suae 
divinitatis  veniens  praedicavit  per  internas  inspirationes  et 
etiam  externas  admonitiones  per  ora  justorum'  (cf.  ib.  :  'Qui 
increduli  f uerunt  Noe  praedicanti '). 

At  present,  however,  the  exegesis  which — largely 
under  the  influence  of  Hundhausen  (Das  erste  Ponti- 
ficalschreiben  des  Apostelfursten  Petrus,  Mainz, 
1873) — finds  most  favour  is  that  which  makes  the 
earlier  passage  (319'-)  refer  to  the  Descensus.  The 
unbelieving  contemporaries  of  Noah,  accordingly, 
are  supposed  to  be  mentioned  only  by  way  of 
example,  and  the  statement  that  Chrisc's  preaching 
in  the  under  world  was  vouchsafed  even  to  such 
unrepentant  souls  in  the  place  of  perdition  is 
narrowed  down  to  mean  that  His  preaching  was 
made  known  to  the  condemned  without  a  special 
Descensus  to  them  at  all,  or,  in  other  words,  that 
the  effects  of  the  Descensus  extended  also  to  the 
lost  (Simar,  i.  539  ff.,  following  Hundhausen, 
p.  350).  Now  this  modification  of  the  sense  of 
1  P  319'-  brings  it  into  harmony  with  a  view  which 
Aquinas  (Summa,  3.  52,  2c)  had  advanced  without 
reference  to  that  passage  : 

'  per  xi  in ni  effectum  (not :  per  suam  essentiam)  Christus  in 
quemlibet  inferorum  descendit ;  in  internum  damnatorum 
habuit  hunc  effectum,  quod  descendens  ad  inferos  eos  de  Bua 
incredulitate  et  malitia  confutavit.' 

Certain  catechisms,  again,  come  to  terms  with 
1  P  319t  in  a  very  simple  fashion,  by  amending 


656 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Christ's) 


the  language  of  Scripture  to  make  it  suit  Catholic 
dogma.  Thua,  after  expounding  the  doctrine 
of  the  Descent  to  the  limbus  patrum,  they 
cite  the  passage  in  question  in  the  following 
form :  '  He  was  put  to  death  according  to  the 
flesh,  but  in  soul  He  went  to  the  spirits  who  were 
in  prison,  and  preached,  i.e.  proclaimed  redemp- 
tion to  them'  {Grosser  Katechismus  f.  d.  Bistiimer 
Bayerns,  p.  75 ;  Paderborner  Kat.  p.  93 ;  simi- 
larly, though  not  quite  so  crudely,  Deharbe,  qu. 
231,  and  Trierer  Kat.,  p.  26).  It  is  a  singular 
fact  that  Aquinas  (Summa,  3.  52,  2c)  speaks  also 
of  an  '  effectus '  of  the  Descensus  upon  the  souls  in 
Purgatory :  '  illis  qui  detinebantur  in  purgatorio 
spem  gloriae  consequendae  dedit ' ;  and  in  a  special 
qucestio  (3.  52,  8)  lie  even  discusses  the  problem 
whether  Christ,  in  virtue  of  His  Descensus,  de- 
livered souls  also  from  Purgatory,  and  solves  it 
as  follows : 

'  Si  qui  inventi  aunt  tales,  quales  etiam  nunc  virtute  passlonis 
Christi  a  purgatorio  Iiberantur,  tales  nihil  prohibet  per  des- 
censum  Christi  ad  inferos  a  purgatorio  esse  liberates.' 

The  strange  thing  is  that  Aquinas  should  think 
of  souls  as  being  in  Purgatory  at  the  time  of  the 
Descensus ;  for  the  Catholic  doctrine  is  that  all 
who  have  died  in  original  sin  (which  could  not  be 
absolved  before  the  death  of  Christ)  are  in  Hell. 
Even  the  sancti  patres  who  believed  in  the  Messiah, 
and  who,  according  to  Aquinas  (3.  49,  5  ad  1), 
had  cancelled  their  actual  sins  by  their  faith  and 
works,  must  be  regarded  as  having  been  in  Hell, 
or,  at  least,  in  the  '  fore-court '  thereof,  by  reason 
of  their  original  sin ;  and  it  is  believed  even  to- 
day that,  when  the  children  of  Christian  parents 
die  unbaptized,  and  thus  have  not  been  cleansed 
of  original  sin,  they  go  to  Hell — to  a  region,  it  is 
true,  resembling  that  in  which  the  patres  dwelt, 
viz.  the  limbus  infantium  (Loofs,  Symbolik,  i.  269). 
Unless,  therefore,  there  have  been  exceptions  to 
this  rule  of  doctrine  (the  Innocents  whose  festival 
occurs  on  the  28th  of  December  need  not  be 
regarded  as  forming  an  exception,  since  their 
baptism  of  blood  would  avail  instead  of  baptism 
by  water,  and  they  could  accordingly  go  to  the 
limbus  patrum),  or  unless  a  great  migration  from 
Hell  to  Purgatory  took  place  at  the  instant  of 
Christ's  death — a  theory  likewise  not  easy  to 
accept — we  must  believe  that  Purgatory  was  as 
empty  before  the  death  of  Christ  as  the  limbus 
patrum  was  after  His  Descent. 

4.  Lutheran  doctrine. — The  doctrine  of  the 
Descensus  set  forth  in  the  Formula  of  Concord, 
and  thus  regarded  by  orthodox  Lutherans  as 
bearing  the  seal  of  their  Church,  is  of  a  peculiar 
character.  It  cannot  be  understood  without  a 
retrospective  glance  at  Luther  himself.  We  must, 
however,  distinguish  between  his  real  theological 
view  and  his  presentation  of  the  subject  in  his 
popular  discourses.  As  a  theologian  Luther  of 
course  (a)  adhered  at  first  to  the  Catholic  tradition 
(Psalmenvorlesung  of  1513-15,  Weimar  ed.  iii. 
103.  20 ;  317.  37).  But  (b)  he  could  not  continue 
to  hold  this  view  after  asserting  that  the  faith 
of  the  'fathers'  is  identical  with  our  own  (cf. 
Predigten  uber  1  Mosis,  1527,  Weimar  ed.,  100.  4  : 
'  vides  Adamum  Christianum  fuisse  ut  nos ' ;  Er- 
langen  ed.  [German],  33.  99).  He  had  come  to 
believe  (cf.  J.  Kostlin,  Luthers  Theologie^,  Stutt- 
gart, 1901,  ii.  341)— even  (see  below)  before  1522 
(at  Amsdorf,  13  Jan.  1522 ;  Enders,  Briefwechsel 
Luthers,  Calw  and  Stuttgart,  1903,  iii.  269-271)— 
that  the  '  fathers,'  like  departed  believers  in  Christ, 
continue  until  the  resurrection  in  a  perfectly  happy 
sleep  of  the  soul,  since  they  are,  so  to  speak, 
enclosed  and  safeguarded  in  the  belief  in  God's 
word  as  in  a  bosom  ('Abraham's  bosom,'  Lk  1622; 
Kirchenpostille,  Erl.  ed.2,  12  f.).  Similarly,  he 
thought  that  the  souls  of  the  wicked  in  the  state 


of  death  are  tormented  by  their  unbelieving  evil 
conscience  until  they  are  cast  into  Hell  at  the 
Last  Day ;  and  with  reference  to  the   '  Hell '  of 

Lk  1623  he  writes  : 

'  The  hell  mentioned  here  cannot  be  the  true  Hell,  which  will 
come  into  being  at  the  Last  Day.  .  .  .  But  it  must  he  a  place 
where  the  soul  can  live,  and  where  it  has  no  rest :  therefore  it 
cannot  be  a  real  locality.  We  judge,  therefore,  that  this  hell 
is  the  evil  conscience— without  faith  and  the  word  of  God — in 
which  the  soul  is  buried  and  confined  until  the  Last  Day,  when 
the  person,  body  and  soul  together,  will  be  cast  into  the  real 
bodily  Hell.' 

A  view  of  the  Descensus  corresponding  to  these 
ideas  regarding  the  sleep  of  the  soul  had  already 
been  set  forth  by  Luther  in  the  Operationes  in 
Psalmos  of  1519-21 : 

4  An i ma  Ohristi  secundum  substantiam  descendit  ad  inferos 
.  .  .  dolores  mortis  et  inferni  pro  eodem  ego  habeo.  Infernus 
enim  est  pavor  mortis,  id  est  sensus  mortis,  quo  horrent  mortem 
et  tamen  non  effugiunt  damnati,  nam  mors  contempta  Don 
sentitur  estque  velut  somnus.  .  .  .  Christus  sicut  cum  summo 
dolore  mortuus  est,  ita  videtur  et  dolores  post  mortem  in 
inferno  sustinuisse,  ...  ita  ...  ut  caro  quidem  ejus  requi- 
everit  in  spe,  sed  anima  ejus  infernum  gustaverit'  (Weim.  ed. 
v.  463, 18  fl. ;  Erl.  ed.  Opp.  exeg.  xv.  16,  378  f.). 

Luther  still  adhered  to  this  theory  in  1530  (Enarr. 
in  ps.  10,  Erl.  ed.  Opp.  exeg.  x vii.  125  f. ,  cf .  124  ; 
[Germ.]  xxxviii.  145  f.,  cf.  144) ;  and,  in  fact,  if  we 
would  set  forth  his  own  distinctive  view  of  the 
subject,  we  must  keep  these  thoughts  before  our 
minds.  There  is  nothing  to  suggest  that  he  ever 
abandoned  the  belief  that  the  true  Hell- has  no 
existence  until  the  Last  Day ;  he  seems  to  have 
remained  constant  to  the  opinion  to  which  he  gave 
utterance  in  1526 : 

'  That  there  exists  a  special  place  in  which  the  souls  of  the 
condemned  now  reside — as  artists  paint  and  belly-gods  preach 
it — I  regard  as  mere  delusion,  for  even  the  devils  are  not  yet  in 
Hell '  (Expos,  of  Jonah,  Weim.  ed.  xix.  225 ;  Erl.  ed.  [Germ.] 
xli.  378). 

But  he  was  not  quite  certain  that  the  conception 
of  the  Descensus  corresponding  to  this  idea  was 
final  and  exhaustive,  and,  accordingly,  (c)  while 
he  had  in  1523  sought  to  expound  the  Petrine 
passages  on  impossible  lines,  and  in  a  sense  which 
ignored  the  Descensus  (Auslegung  d.  1  Petrusbriefes, 
Weim.  ed.  xii.  367  f.,  375  f.,  Erl.  ed.  [Germ.]  Ii. 
458  fl'.  467  ;  in  a  second  form,  Erl.  ed.  Iii.  152  f . 
162),  we  find  that  subsequently,  in  his  lectures  on 
Genesis  (c.  1537) — which,  it  is  true,  do  not  survive 
in  a  verbally  authentic  form — he  takes  account  of 
the  hypothesis  that  the  verses  may  throw  light  on 
the  Article  '  descendit  ad  inferos '  (Erl.  ed.  Opp. 
exeg.  ii.  222).  He  deems  it  possible  that  Peter  was 
thinking  of  a  preaching  of  the  mortuus  Christus 
to  mortui  of  the  time  of  the  Deluge,  but  believes 
that  this  was  restricted  entirely  to  'infantes  et 
alios  quos  simplicitas  sua  impedivit,  ne  possent 
credere'  (loc.  cit.).  (d)  A  little  later  Luther  seems 
to  have  made  a  further  advance.  In  1543,  accord- 
ing to  Melanchthon's  statement  (Corp.  Bef.  v.  58), 
he  was  disposed  to  think — with  Melanchthon  him- 
self— that  Christ's  preaching  in  Hades,  as  referred 
to  in  1  Peter,  might  have  effected  the  salvation  of 
the  nobler  heathen ;  while  in  an  edition  of  his 
lecture  on  Hosea,  issued  with  his  own  consent  by 
Veit  Dietrich  in  1545  (Letter  of  16th  Oct.  1545  [de 
Wette,  Luthers  Briefe,  Berlin,  1825-56,  v.  761]),  he 
gives— if ,  that  is  to  say,  he  ever  read  this  edition  of 
his  lecture — his  sanction  to  a  similar  exegesis  (Erl. 
ed.  Opp.  exeg.  xxiv.  330),  which,  however,  is  not 
found  in  the  transcriptions  of  the  lecture  of  1524 
(Weim.  ed.  xiii.  27)  revised  by  Dietrich  in  his  edition. 
In  any  case,  Luther  was  far  from  certain  that  the 
views  of  the  Descensus  which  went  beyond  the 
position  stated  above  (in  6)  were  correct.  Hence, 
in  1544 — and  here  we  have  his  last  utterance  on 
the  subject,  though  again  not  authentic  in  its 
verbal  transmission — (e)  he  pronounced  a  'non 
liquet'  upon  all  conjectures  that  would  add  to  the 
simple  fact  of  the  sojourn  of  Christ's  spirit  in 
inferno : 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Christ's) 


657 


'  Quid  anima  fecerit  in  inferno,  uiulti  multa  disputant,  an 
spohaverit  inferos  et  Iiberaverit  suoa  q_ui  ante  ipsum  in  sinum 
Abrahae  congregati  fuerant,  nihil  attinet  quaerere  et  rimari 
curiosius'  (mi  Gen.  [Erl.  ed.,  Opp.  exeg.  x.  219]). 

In  his  popular  discourses  Luther  joins  hands 
with  the  artists,  whose  pictures  of  the  Descensus 
portray  Christ — in  the  only  way  in  which  He  can 
be  portrayed,  i.e.  in  the  body — as  going  down 
'with  a  banner  in  His  hand,'  appearing  before 
Hell,  dislodging  Satan,  taking  Hell  by  storm,  and 
carrying  away  those  who  are  His  (cf.  Erl.  ed. 
[Germ.]  xix.2  41).  Thus,  in  order  that '  children  and 
simple  folk '  might  attain  to  a  clear  idea  of  Christ's 
triumph  over  Hell  and  Satan— a  fact  which  must 
become  part  of  their  receptive  faith — Luther  did 
not  hesitate  repeatedly  (cf.  even  the  short  form  of 
the  Ten  Commandments,  1520  [  Weim.  ed.  vii.  217 
=  Erl.  ed.  [Germ.]  xxii.  8],  and  elsewhere,  e.g.  in 
the  Hauspostille  [Erl.  ed.  [Germ.]  v.2  1-17]),  and 
notably  in  an  Easter  sermon  preached  at  Torgau 
on  the  13th  of  April  1533  (Erl.  ed.  [Germ.]  xix.2 
40-54),  to  speak  of  the  Descensus  as  if  '  the  Lord 
Christ— the  entire  person,  God  and  man,  with  body 
and  soul,  undivided — had  journeyed  to  Hell,  and 
had  in  person  demolished  Hell  and  bound  the 
Devil'  (cf.  Erl.  ed.  [Germ.]  xix.a  44 f.).  But  these 
expositions  are  obviously  clothed  in  the  language 
of  popular  metaphor,  and  there  is  not  the  slightest 
doubt  that  Luther  was  aware  of  their  exoteric 
character.  He  makes  this  quite  clear  in  the 
exordium  of  his  Torgau  discourse  : 

'  And  it  pleases  me  well  that,  for  the  simple,  it  [the  Descent] 
should  be  painted,  played,  sung,  or  spoken  in  this  manner  (i.e. 
as  represented  by  the  artists),  and  I  shall  be  quite  content  if 
people  do  not  vex  themselves  greatly  with  high  and  subtle 
thoughts  as  to  how  it  was  carried  out ;  for  it  did  not  take  place 
in  the  body  at  all,  aB  He  remained  in  the  grave  for  three  days ' 
(Erl.  ed.  [Germ.]  xix.2  41). 

It  is  instructive  to  note,  as  bearing  in  the  same 
direction,  what  Luther  adds  to  the  words  quoted 
above  regarding  the  Descent  of  the  whole  person  : 
•Please  God,  the  banner,  doors,  gate,  and  chains 
were  of  wood,  or  of  iron,  or  did  not  exist  at  all ' 
(op.  cit.  p.  45).  Yet  these  utterances  in  the  Torgau 
discourse,  notwithstanding  their  unmistakably 
exoteric  and  metaphorical  cast,  came  at  length  to 
be  formulated  as  dogma.  Owing,  in  some  un- 
explained way,  to  local  controversies  regarding  the 
Descent  (F.  H.  E.  Frank,  Theol.  der  Concordien- 
formel,  iii.,  Erlangen,  1863,  p.  418  ff.),  the  framers 
of  the  Formula  of  Concord  (and  even  of  its  fore- 
runner, the  so-called  Book  of  Torgau)  deemed  it 
necessary  to  insert  a  special  Article  (ix. )  *  de 
Descensu  Christi.'  Their  ostensible  purpose  in  so 
doing  was  merely  '  simplicitatem  fidei  in  symbolo 
apostolico  comprehensam  retinere'  (J.  T.  Miiller, 
Die  symbol.  Biicker  d.  evang.  -luth.  Kirche,  stereo- 
type ed.,  Gutersloh,  1882,  p.  696. 1).  But  when,  in 
Art.  ix.,  with  a  reference  to  Luther's  Torgau 
discourse,  they  declare  :  '  Simpliciter  ergo  credimus 
quod  tota  persona,  Deus  et  homo,  post  sepulturam 
sid  inferos  descenderit,  Satanam  devicent,  potes- 
tatem  inferorum  everterit,  et  diabolo  omnem  vim 
et  potentiam  eripuerit '  (ib.  696.  2),  it  is  clear  that 
the  statement  has  behind  it  the  whole  argumenta- 
tion of  Art.  viii.  on  the  '  Communicatio  idiomatum  ' 
(ib.  697.  3). 

Lutheran  orthodoxy, in  maintainingfinopposition 
to  the  Reformed  theology :  see  §  5  below),  as  an 
element  of  the  true  doctrine,  that  the  Descensus 
was  an  act  which,  occurring  after  the  faoiroind?iva.t. 
and  immediately  before  the  Resurrection,  involved 
the  entire  person  of  Christ,  and  belonged  to  the 
status  exaltationis,  was  simply  proceeding  upon 
the  lines  laid  down  by  the  Formula  of  Concord. 
But,  in  seeking  to  establish  these  positions,  it 
appealed  to  the  Petrine  passage  (1  P  319)  which 
was  not  cited  by  that  Formula,  asserting  that  the 
preaching  of  Christ  was  a  'praedicatio  (verbalis  .') 
elenchtica,'  and  therefore  a  '  triumphum  agere' 
vol.  iv  — 42 


(Hollaz,  in  H.  Schmid,  Die  Dogmatik  d.  evang. - 
luth.  Kirche*,  Frankfort,  1858,  §  38,  note  21).  In 
so  doing,  however,  it  also  makes  a  complete 
surrender  of  the  '  simplicitas  fidei,'  as  its  Christo- 
logy  compelled  it  to  qualify  the  'descendit'  by 
the  phrase  'secundum  humanam  naturam,'  for 
'  secundum  divinam  naturam  jam  ante  in  inferno 
per  dominium  omnia  replens  erat'  (Quenstedt,  in 
Schmid,  op.  cit.  §  38,  note  23).  On  a  closer  view, 
in  fact,  the  '  descendit '  becomes  more  attenuated 
still,  since,  according  to  the  doctrine  of  Christ's 
omnipresence,  His  humanity  is — after  His  exalta- 
tion, at  all  events — wherever  His  Divinity  is. 
The  '  supernaturalis  motus  non  localis'  (Hollaz,  in 
loc.  cit.  note  22)  is  thus  merely  the  first  phase  of 
the  non-local  ubiguitas  corporis.  According  to  the 
Tubingen  school,  indeed,  the  humanity  of  Christ 
was  not  to  be  separated  from  His  non-local  omni- 
present Divinity,  even  at  the  beginning  of  His 
rest  in  the  grave,  or  at  any  time,  in  fact,  after  His 
conceptio  (Dorner,  Gesch.  d.  prot.  Theol.,  Munich, 
1867,  ii.  788 ff.). 

5.  Reformed  doctrine. — If  the  Lutheran  doctrine 
may  be  regarded  as  a  modification  of  the  Catholic 
— and  it  can  be  explained  only  by  reference  to  the 
latter — the  view  of  the  Reformed  Churches,  so  far 
as  a  single  generic  view  of  the  question  may  be 
attributed  to  them,  is  characterized  by  a  complete 
abandonment  of  the  Roman  dogma.  It  is  true 
that  Zwingli,  in  his  first  discourse  at  Berne  ( Werlce, 
ed.  Schuler  and  Schulthess,  Zurich,  1828-1842,  ii 
1.  p.  211),  kept  close  to  the  Catholic  interpretation, 
asserting  that  the  pious  who  lived  before  Christ 
and  believed  in  the  coming  Messiah  were  delivered 
from  Hades ;  and  that  later  (Fidei  expositio  7 
[  Werlce,  iv.  49]),  while  of  opinion  that  the  '  descendit' 
of  the  Apostolicum  signifies  only  that  Christ  really 
died  ('inferis  enim  connumerari  ex  humanis  abiisse 
est '),  he  still  clung  to  that  view,  which  rests  upon 
a  peculiar  exegesis  of  1  P  319'-.  Leo  Jud,  again, 
in  his  Catechism  of  1534,  finds  no  more  in  the 
'  descendit '  than  '  vere  mortuus  est ' :  '  He  died 
and  was  buried — went  to  Hell  indeed,  i.e.  He  really 
died'  (A.  Schweizer,  Die  Glaubenslehre  der  evang.- 
ref.  Kirche,  ii.,  Zurich,  1847,  p.  349).  Then  Calvin, 
while  deeming  it  an  error  to  take  the  '  descendit ' 
as  equivalent  to  'sepultus  est'  (Inst.  1536  [0pp.  i. 
70 :  '  haec  particula  de  descensu  .  .  .  minime 
superflua '] ;  emphatic  repudiation  in  Inst.  1539- 
54  [Opp.  i.  529]  and  1559  [Opp.  ii.  375]),  neverthe- 
less characterizes  the  Roman  view  as  a  '  fabula ' 
not  only  in  Inst.  1536  (i.  69  f.)  but  also  later  (Inst. 
1539-54,  7.  27  [i.  529 f.];  1559,  2.  16,  9  [ii.  375  f.]); 
the  idea  that  the  souls  of  the  dead  are  confined  in 
a  prison  he  regards  as  simply  'childish'  (1559,  2. 
16,  9  [ii.  376]).  From  1536  to  1559  the  only  mean- 
ing which  he  drew  from  the  Petrine  passage*  — 
without  applying  them  to  the  Descensus  at  all  — 
was  as  follows : 

'virtutem  redemptionis  per  Christum  partae  exhibitam  et 
plane  manifestatam  esse  eorum  spiritibus  qui  ante  id  tempus 
def  uncti  fuerant.'  '  Fideles,'  he  believes, '  tunc  plane  et  praesenti 
aspectu  perspexerunt  ejus  visitationem ;  contra  reprobi  .  .  . 
nullam  sibi  spem  residuam  tunc  planius  agnoverunt'  (Inst. 
1539-54,  7.  27,  p.  530;  of.  1536,  p.  70,  and  1559,  2.  16,  9, 
p.  376). 

To  Calvin's  mind  the  true  sense  of  the  article 
'  descendit  ad  inferos '  was  this  : 

'Christum  afflictum  a  Deo  fuisse  acdivini  judicii  horrorem  et 
severitatem  sensisse,  ut  irae  Dei  intercederet  ac  ejus  justitiae 
nostro  nomine  satisfaceret '  (Inst.  1536,  p.  69;  cf.  1559,  2.  16, 
10,  ii.  376  :  '  Nihil  actum  erat,  si  corporeatantum  mortedefunctus 
fuisset  Christus,  sed  operae  simul  pretium  erat,  ut  divinae 
ultionis  severitatem  sentiret,  quo  et  irae  ipsius  intercederet  et 
satisfaceret  justo  judicio ;  unde  etiam  eum  oportuit  cum 
inferorum  copiis  aeternaeque  mortis  horrore  quasi  consertis 
manibus  luctari '). 

Calvin  is  thinking  here,  not  of  the  experiences 
through  which  Jesus  passed  after  His  death,  but 
of  the  agonies  of  soul  which  preceded  it.  To 
challenge  this  interpretation  on  the  ground  that 


658 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Christ's) 


it  conflicts  with  the  sequence  of  the  Symbolical 
clauses,  he  regards  as  frivolous  : 

( Ubi  enim  quae  in  hominum  conspectu  passus  est  Christus 
exposita  fuerunt,  opportune  subjicitur  invisibile  illud  et  in- 
comprehensibile  judicium  quod  coram  Deo  sustinuit'  {Inst. 
1B59,  2.  16.  10,  p.  376  f.). 

In  the  Reformed  Churches  of  the  succeeding 
period,  as  is  shown  by  F.  Wendelin  (Systema,  1656, 
p.  719,  in  Schweizer,  ii.  350),  the  views  of  Leo  Jud 
and  Calvin  took  precedence  of  all  others,  though 
in  varying  measure : 

'  Per  descensum  nihil  aliud  significari  nisi  sepulturam,  pii  et 
docti  viri  nonnulli  approbant ;  plerique  orthodoxorum  intelligunt 
dolores  inf  ernales  quos  in  anima  sua  Christus  sensit '  (F.  Wendelin, 
loc.  tit.). 

With  regard  to  the  latter  point  the  Reformed 
theologians  often  differ  from  Calvin  in  not  restrict- 
ing Christ's  endurance  of  the  dolores  infernales  to 
His  earthly  life.  In  both  statements  it  is  of  course 
implied — in  opposition  to  the  Lutheran  theory — 
that  the  Descensus  belongs  to  the  status  exinani- 
tionis  or  humiliationis  ( Westminster  Larger  Catech- 
ism, qu.  46,  49,  50).  Among  the  formularies  which 
adopt  the  distinctively  Calvinistic  view  are  the 
Geneva  Catechism  (E.  F.  K.  Muller,  Bekenntnis- 
schriften  d.  ref.  Kirche,  Leipzig,  1903,  p.  122  f.  : 
'  horribiles  angustias  intelligo  quibus  Christi  anima 
constricta  fuit')  and  the  Heidelberg  Catechism 
(qu.  44  [Muller,  p.  694 :  '  unspeakable  distress, 
agony,  and  horror,  which  He  suffered  in  His  soul, 
and  previously ']).  The  Westminster  Larger  Catech- 
ism sets  forth  the  Calvinistic  view — without 
mention  of  the  'Descent'  however — in  qu.  49, 
while  in  qu.  50  it  supplements  this  by  speaking  of 
Christ  '  as  after  His  death  .  .  .  continuing  in  the 
state  of  the  dead,  and  under  the  power  of  death,' 
and  expressly  adds  that  this  '  hath  been  otherwise 
expressed  in  these  words, — He  descended  into  hell.' 
But  most  of  the  Reformed  Confessions  give  no 
explanation  of  the  Descensus  at  all.  The  Anglican 
XXXIX  Articles  of  1563  likewise  discard  that 
portion  of  Art.  iii.  (Muller,  p.  506  :  '  nam  corpus 
usque  ad  resurrectionem  in  sepulchro  jacuit ; 
spiritus,  ab  illo  emissus,  cum  spiritibus  qui  in 
carcere  sive  in  inferno  detinebantur  fuit,  illisque 
praedicavit,  quemadmodum  testatur  Petri  locus') 
which  in  the  XLII  Articles  of  1552  followed  the 
statement  '  Christus  est  credendus  ad  inferos 
descend  isse.' 

6.  Modern  interpretation  and  re-statement.— 
In  the  Greek  and  Roman  Churches  the  formulated 
doctrines  of  the  Descensus  dealt  with  above  (§§  2 
and  3)  have  maintained  an  all  but  absolute  pre- 
dominance since  mediaeval  times ;  of  the  few 
divergent  tendencies  the  more  important  are 
mentioned  by  Dietelmaier  (Hist,  dogmatis  de 
Descensu",  Altorf,  1762,  pp.  128-139,  144-153,  179). 
Within  the  pale  of  Lutheranism,  again,  a  great 
variety  of  views  gained  a  footing  at  the  very 
outset.  Luther  himself  advocated  more  than  one 
interpretation  (cf.  §  4) ;  Johannes  Agricola,  in  his 
Christliche  Kinderzucht,  propounded  views  similar 
to  those  afterwards  maintained  by  Calvin  (cf.  G. 
Kawerau,  Joh.  Agricola,  Berlin,  1881,  p.  72),  and 
with  these  views,  again,  Joh.  Aepinus  of  Hamburg 
(t  1553)  incorporated  the  theory  that  the  Descensus 
was  really  a  vicarious  descent  of  the  Spirit  of 
Jesus  into  that  infemum  in  which  sinners  deserve 
to  suffer  until  the  Final  Judgment  and  the  incep- 
tion of  Gehenna  fire  (F.  H.  R.  Frank,  Die  Theologie 
der  Concordicnformel,  4  vols.,  Erlangen,  1858-65, 
iii.  397-415) ;  many  others  have  approximated  to 
the  position  of  Aepinus  (Frank,  p.  415  f . ),  while  Joh. 
Brenz  (t  1570),  in  -the  interests  of  the  ubiquitas 
corporis  Christi  and  the  non-local  character  of 
'  Heaven '  and  the  infemum,  was  inclined  to  favour 
a  spiritual  theory  of  the  Descensus — an  interpreta- 
tion wliich  amounted  to  little  more  than  the  notion 
that,   the  crucified  Christ  is  supposed  by  human 


beings  to  have  gone  down  to  Hell  and  to  have 
utterly  perished  (Frank,  pp.  418-420;  for  other 
theologians,  cf.  Frank,  pp.  416 f.,  420-424,  and  for 
Urbanus  Rhegius  and  Matthesius,  Dietelmaier, 
p.  179  f.).  From  the  issue  of  the  Formula  of 
Concord  till  after  the  middle  of  the  18th  cent., 
however,  the  view  formulated  in  that  document 
prevailed  generally  within  the  Lutheran  commu  nion 
(cf.  Dietelmaier,  pp.  170,  180,  204-209).  In  the 
Reformed  Churches  neither  of  the  Confessional 
views  referred  to  in  §  5  ever  gained  a  position  of 
absolute  supremacy.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was 
in  this  section  of  the  Church — in  which  the  serious 
study  of  historical  questions  was  entered  upon 
earlier  than  among  the  Lutherans — that  the 
certitude  of  the  Confessional  interpretations  was 
first  shattered.  Besides  the  great  theologian  G. 
J.  Vossius  (t  1649),  two  renowned  English  scholars, 
John  Lightfoot  (t  1675)  and  John  Pearson  (t  1686), 
succeeded  in  undermining  the  confidence  hitherto 
placed  in  the  formulated  views,  and  for  these 
thinkers  the  Descensus  meant  no  more  than  the 
sojourn  of  the  Spirit  of  Jesus  in  the  realm  of  death. 
Then  in  the  period  of  the  Illumination  the  dogma 
largely  lost  its  earlier  signification,  nor  did  the 
theology  of  post-Illumination  times  restore  it. 

But  a  fresh  theory  of  the  Descensus  was  advanced, 
and  found  favour  in  many  quarters.  The  distinc- 
tive feature  of  the  new  interpretation  was  that  it 
associated  the  preaching  of  Christ  in  Hades  with  a 
possible  offer  of  salvation  after  death  to  all  who 
had  been  denied  the  opportunity  in  this  life.  The 
K-qpinrireiv  of  1  P  319  was  regarded  as  a  preaching  of 
the  gospel ;  the  contemporaries  of  Noah  (v.20)  were 
supposed  to  be  referred  to  only  as  examples,  or 
as  abnormally  depraved,  and  it  was  thus  inferred, 
a  majore  ad  minus,  that,  if  salvation  was  proffered 
to  such  as  these,  a  similar  invitation  must  be 
granted  to  all  who  have  not  been  called,  or  called 
effectually,  in  this  life.  To  a  certain  extent  re- 
course was  had  also  to  a  hypothesis  with  which 
Augustine  was  acquainted  (Ep.  clxiv.  4.  13  ;  Migne, 
PL  xxxiii.  714),  viz.  that  a  knowledge  of  the 
salvation  wrought  by  Christ  must  have  remained 
in  the  realm  of  death  ever  since  His  preaching 
there.  The  present  writer  is  unable,  so  far  as 
regards  the  countries  outside  Germany,  to  trace 
the  rise  of  this  now  widely  diffused  idea  ;  consider- 
able information  on  the  subject  is  given  by  C. 
Clemen,  '  Niedergefahren  zu  den  Toten,'  Giessen, 
1900,  p.  215  ft'.  In  Germany  certain  theologians — 
above  all,  J.  L.  Konig  (Die  Lehre  von  Christi 
Hbllenfahrt,  Frankfort  a.  M. ,  1842),  E.  Giider  (Die 
Lehre  von  der  Erscheinung  Jesu  Christi  unter  d. 
Toten,  Berne,  1853),  and  Clemen  (op.  cit.) — have 
given  their  support  to  this  re-statement  of  the 
Descensus  doctrine,  or  at  least  (thus  Clemen)  of 
what  is  supposed  to  be  its  religious  bearing.  These 
new  ideas  have  found  their  way  even  into  the 
precincts  of  Lutheran  orthodoxy,  and  have  become 
incorporated  in  a  peculiar  manner  with  other 
modifications  of  orthodox  (  =  Lutheran)  tradition 
(cf.  e.g.  Alex,  von  Oettingen,  Lutherische  Dogmatik, 
ii.  2,  Munich,  1902,  pp.  140-148).  The  theory 
which  would  affirm  the  possibility  of  an  offer  of 
salvation  after  death  must,  in  our  judgment,  be 
conceded,  and  indeed  many  modern  writers  of  the 
most  diverse  theological  tendencies  give  it  theii 
approval  (cf.  Konig,  p.  204 ff.,  Clemen,  p.  212 ft".); 
but  whether  the  theory  can  be  legitimately  com- 
bined with  the  Descensus  as  presented  in  Scripture 
(see  below,  §  7)  or  in  the  tradition  of  the  Church 
(§  8)  is  another  question. 

7.  Re-statement  compared  with  Scripture. — Of 
the  various  passages  of  Scripture  which  have  at 
one  time  or  another  been  appealed  to  in  support  of 
the  Descensus  those  drawn  from  the  OT  need  not 
be  discussed   here,  as  it  is  only  by  an  obsolete 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Christ's) 


659 


exegesis  that  references  to  Jesus  Christ  could  be 
found  in  them.  Nor  do  the  NT  passages — Mt  1240, 
Ac  2s7,  Bo  107  and  Eph  48-10 — speak  of  a  Descensus 
of  the  nature  implied  by  the  '  Orthodox,'  Catholic, 
Lutheran,  Calvinistic,  or  '  modern '  interpretations  ; 
these  passages,  or  some  of  them,  point  at  most  to 
a  sojourn  of  Jesus,  or  of  His  soul  (Ac  227),  in 
'  Hades.'  We  shall  have  an  opportunity  below 
(see  §  to)  of  gauging  the  significance  of  this  datum. 
The  only  passages  which  need  be  considered  here 
are  1  P  3™-  and  46,  which  are  very  generally  re- 
garded as  the  loci  classici  for  the  Descensus,  though, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  Augustine  and  Aquinas 
(°f-  §  3)>  Calvin  (§  5)  and — for  many  years  at  least 
— Luther  as  well  (§  4),  denied  that  the  verses  in 
question  refer  to  the  subject  at  all. 

1  P  4s  must  certainly  be  surrendered.  For,  while 
Augustine's  idea  that  the  vexpol  is  equivalent  to 
infideles  (Ep.  clxiv.  7.  21  [PL  xxxiii.  718])— an 
exegesis  adopted  by  Luther  (Epist.  S.  Petr. 
ausqelegt,  1523  [Erl.  ed.  [Germ.]  H.  468])— is  un- 
doubtedly wrong,  Luther  is  as  certainly  right  in 
saying  {loc.  cit.  p.  467) :  '  He  (St.  Peter)  adds  fur- 
ther that  they  (the  veicpol)  are  judged  according  to 
man  in  the  flesh.  But  they  are  not  in  the  flesh  ; 
hence  it  can  be  understood  only  as  applied  to  living 
persons.'  H  this  reasoning  be  conclusive,  and  the 
application  of  the  passage  to  the  Descensus  thus 
shown  to  be  wrong,  other  points  of  difference 
among  expositors  may  be  left  out  of  consideration 
here.  The  only  correct  explanation,  in  the  present 
writer's  opinion,  is  that  which  takes  the  veicpol  to 
signify  those  who  were  dead  when  the  Epistle  was 
written,  but  who  in  their  lifetime  had — as  the 
einrryye\io-6ri  shows — a  knowledge  of  the  gospel : 
just  because  they  have  died,  and  have  not  remained 
alive  until  the  Parousia,  they  are  '  judged  in  the 
flesh,'  ipsa  mortc  carnis  (Augustine,  Ep.  clxiv.  7. 
21  [Pi  xxxiii.  718]),  but  they  live  to  God  Trveifiart. 
This  agrees  with  the  whole  train  of  thought  which 
sets  out  from  317  and  reaches  its  middle  point  in  41 ; 
for  the  emphasis  is  laid  upon  the  idea  that  the 
dead,  though  it  has  been  their  lot  Kpidijvai.  aapKl, 
nevertheless  f<3<u  Kara  6ebv  Trvev/ian. 

The  case  of  1  P  319'-  cannot  be  so  easily  disposed 
of.  Of  the  various  interpretations  applied  to  this 
passage,  not  a  few  find  no  reference  to  the  Descensus 
in  it  either. 

We  have  one  example  of  this  when  the  clause  ev  ol  (sc. 
TrvevfLarC)  iropevdeis  eier/pv^ev  iB  assumed  to  refer  to  the  pre- 
existent  Christ  (I.).  Such  is  the  interpretation  of  Augustine 
(cf.  §  3),  J.  O.  K.  v.  Hofmann  (Die  heilige  Schrift  d.  NT,  vii., 
Nordlingen,  1875,  p.  124-134),  and  A.  Schweizer  (Hinabgefahren 
zur  Holle,  etc.,  Zurich,  1868),  who  thinks  that  (La)  the  wvev^aTa 
to  whom  Christ  preached  were  the  people  of  Noah's  time,  and 
that  these  are  spoken  of  as  Tn/ev/iara  iv  <2>vAa*fl  because  they  '  in 
ignorantiae  tenebris  claudebantur '  (Aug.  Ep.  clxiv.  5,  16  [PL 
xxxiii.  715]),  or  because  they  were  ev  <£vAa*f)  when  the  Epistle  was 
written  (v.  Hofmann,  et  al.).  Another  form  of  this  interpreta- 
tion is  that  of  F.  Spitta  (Christi  Predigt  an  die  Geister,  Gott- 
ingen,  1890),  that  (1.6)  the  ev  (pv\aicn  nvevfitna  are  the  angels 
whose  fall  (Gn  62)  was  a  theme  of  such  profound  interest  in  the 
Jewish  apocalyptic  literature  and  in  certain  Christian  circles  of 
the  early  centuries  (cf.  2  P  24).  Similarly,  the  idea  of  the 
Descensus  is  surrendered  by  the  interpretation  which  refers  the 
clause  nopevBels  etcqpv^ev  to  the  period  after  the  Resurrection 
(II.).  This  exegesis  is  certainly  untenable  in  the  form  repre- 
sented by  Luther,  viz.  that  (H.a)  Christ  after  His  Ascension 
comes  in  the  Spirit  (i.e.  in  preaching)  to  the  spirits  (i.e.  spirits 
or  hearts  of  men),  who  are  as  disobedient  as  the  contemporaries 
of  Noah  (Erl.  ed.  [Germ.]  li.  458-460);  but  in  the  form  given  to 
it  by  F.  C.  Baur  (Vorlesungen  ii.  d.  neutesi.  Theologie,  Leipzig, 
1864,  p.  291) — that  (II. &)  those  to  whom  Christ  preached  were 
the  fallen  angels  (cf.  1  Ti  316:  i^e-ij  iyyeViois)  —  it  still  finds 
adherents  (M.  Lauterburg,  PRE3  viii.  201, 1.  21  ff.).  But  a  new 
interest  gathers  around  the  passage  when  the  iropevdeU  etcqpviev 
is  understood  to  indicate  an  event  which  occurred  in  the  interval 
between  Christ's  death  and  His  resurrection  (III.).  The  theories 
based  on  this  exegesis  fall  into  two  main  classes,  corresponding 
to  a  twofold  explanation  of  emjpv£ev.  If  the  word  be  taken  to 
mean  a  preaching  of  salvation  (III. a),  then  the  verse  asserts  that 
during  the  interval  in  question  Christ  proclaimed  salvation  to 
the  generation  destroyed  by  the  Deluge.  But,  if  eicrjpviev  be 
interpreted  as  implying  only  an  '  elenchtic  proclamation  '  (III.6), 
we  have  a  view  which  seems  to  approximate  to  the  position  of 
Lutheran  Orthodoxy  (cf.  §  4). 


Which  of  the  above  five  exegetical  theories  still 
advocated  to-day  (La,  b,  II. b,  III. a,  b)  is  the  most 
probable  is  a  question  which  each  must  decide  for 
himself ;  to  seek  to  prove  that  any  single  one  is 
exclusively  correct  were  a  hopeless  task.  The 
present  writer  has  a  considerable  preference  for  the 
first  form  of  explanation  (I.),  and  especially  for 
that  of  Spitta  (1.6),  though  he  hardly  shares  the 
confidence  with  which  the  latter  scholar  refers  the 
itcfipv^ev  to  the  commination  uttered,  according  to 
the  Book  of  Enoch  (xii.  4,  ed.  Fleming  and  Bader- 
macher,  Leipzig,  1901,  p.  34  ft'.),  over  the  fallen 
angels  by  Enoch :  so  many  ideas  of  like  nature 
must  have  been  current  in  Apostolic  times.  But, 
even  if  either  of  the  interpretations  specified  in 
III.  is  the  right  one,  i.e.  if  we  are  to  postulate  a 
preaching  of  Christ  in  the  interval  between  His 
death  and  His  resurrection,  yet  1  P  31W-  gives  as 
little  warrant  for  the  '  modern '  conception  of  the 
Descensus  as  for  that  of  the  Lutheran  Orthodoxy. 
Both  theories,  in  fact,  alike  the  Orthodox  Lutheran, 
which  does  not  harmonize  with  the  iv  <J>  (=£v 
irveiiw.Ti.),  and  the  modern,  are  in  conflict  with  the 
indisputable  fact  that  the  only  people  mentioned 
in  v.20  as  those  to  whom  Christ  preached  are  the 
contemporaries  of  Noah.  To  assume  that  the 
latter  are  mentioned  only  by  way  of  example,  and 
that  the  preaching  of  salvation,  or  of  judgment, 
was  heard  by  all  aireidrjiravTh  ttotc,  is  certainly  un- 
warranted. As  regards  the  whole  passage,  in  fact, 
only  one  thing  is  certain,  viz.  that,  if  it  speaks  of 
the  Descensus  at  all,  whether  in  the  sense  of  inter- 
pretation III. a  or  in  that  of  III.  J,  it  presents  an 
altogether  unique  conception  of  the  event — unique 
not  only  with  respect  to  the  Confessional  interpre- 
tations (§§  2-5)  and  the  '  modern '  theories,  but  also 
with  respect  to  the  traditions  of  the  early  Church. 
The  conception  of  the  Descensus  current  in  the 
early  Church  proceeded  on  entirely  different  lines 
(see  §  8)  and  arose  independently  of  1  P  319i-  Prior 
to  the  time  of  Clement  of  Alexandria  (Strom,  vi. 
6.  45,  ed.  0.  Stahlin,  Leipzig,  1906,  p.  454,  14 ff.) 
and  Origen  (in  Joann.  vi.  35,  ed.  E.  Preuschen, 
Leipzig,  1903,  p.  144,  15 ff),  this  passage,  so  far  as 
we  know,  was  never  referred  to  in  connexion  with 
the  Descensus  ;  while  Irenseus,  who  often  speaks  of 
the  Descensus,  and  brings  many  Biblical  passages 
to  bear  upon  it  (cf.  adv.  Hcer.  v.  31.  1,  Massuet 
[ed.  Harvey,  Cambridge,  1S77,  ii.  411]),  and  who, 
moreover,  was  acquainted  with  1  Peter  and  regarded 
it  as  authentic  (op.  cit.  iv.  9.  2  [ii.  170]),  never 
quotes  the  passage  at  all,  nor,  in  dealing  specially 
with  the  Descensus,  does  he  even  allude  to  it. 

8.  Re-statement  compared  with  early  Church 
tradition. — It  is  absolutely  certain  that  the  early 
Church  tradition  regarding  the  Descensus  moves  in 
an  orbit  quite  apart  from  the  '  modern  '  treatment 
of  the  conception.  As  regards  the  Western  Bap- 
tismal Confession,  it  is  well  known  that  the  '  de- 
scendit  ad  inferos,'  which  does  not  occur  in  the 
early  Roman  Symbol  (Hahn,  Bibliothek  d.  Symbole*, 
Breslau,  1897,  p.  22 ff),  makes  its  first  appearance 
in  the  Symbol  of  Aquileia  by  Rufinus  (Hahn,  p.  42, 
cf.  note  63 ;  Caspari,  Quellen,  ii.  [Christiania, 
1869]  46,  note  133;  also  F.  Kattenbusch,  Das 
apostol.  Symbol,  ii.  [Leipzig,  1900]  89511'.).  In  the 
Eastern  Confessions  (not,  however,  in  the  Baptismal 
formulae)  the  clause  appears  somewhat  earlier,  viz. 
in  the  Fourth  Sirmian  formula  of  359  (Hahn,  §  163  : 
Kal  eh  to.  Karax06via  KaTeXdbvra),  the  kindred  formula 
of  Nice  of  the  same  year  (Hahn,  §  164),  and  the 
Constantinopolitan  formula  of  360  (Hahn,  §  167). 
But,  long  before  these  Confessions  saw  the  light, 
the  Descensus  was  already  part  of  the  Church 
tradition,  alike  in  the  East  and  in  the  West.  This 
appears,  to  begin  with,  from  the  circumstance  that 
among  the  things  '  quae  testatissima  veritate  de 
Christo  conscripta  sunt '  Augustine  places  the  fact 


660 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Christ's) 


'  quod  apud  inferos  fuit '  (Ep.  clxiv.  5.  14  ;  cf.  ib.  4. 
12 :  '  Christo  ad  inferos  descendente,'  and  2.  3 
'  [Christum]  .  .  .  venisse  in  inf ernum  satis  constat, 
.  .  .  quis  ergo  nisi  infidelis  negaverit  fuisse  apud 
inferos  Christum?') ;  but  in  point  of  fact  the  idea 
of  the  Descensus  can  be  clearly  traced  through 
Clement  of  Alexandria  {cf.  §  7),  Tertullian  (de 
Anima,  7  and  55,  ed.  Reifferscheid,  Vienna,  1890,  p. 
308,  14  and  387  ft'.),  and  Irenaeus  {adv.  Hmr.  iii.  20. 
4,  Massuet  [ed.  Harvey,  ii.  108] ;  iv.  22.  1  [ii.  228] ; 
iv.  33.  1  [ii.  256] ;  iv.  33.  12  [ii.  267] ;  v.  31.  1  [ii. 
411],  and  'A*-o5ei£is,  TV  xxx.  1.  p.  42),  to  Justin 
(Dial.  72,  ed.  Otto,  1876-81,  ii.  260)  and  one  of  the 
'presbyters'  of  Irenaeus  (cf.  adv.  Hmr.  iv.  27.  2 
[ii.  241]).  Now,  what  significance  did  these  Fathers 
attach  to  the  idea  ?  In  answering  this  question  it 
will  be  well  to  begin  with  the  popular  account  of 
the  Descensus  given  in  the  second  part  (i.e.  the  so- 
called  Descensus)  of  the  Gospel  of  Nicodemus,  which 
probably  belongs  to  the  4th  cent.  A.D.  (Evangelia 
apocrypha',  ed.  Tischendorf,  Leipzig,  1876,  pp. 
322  tf.  and  389  ft". ).  Here  it  is  told  in  most  dramatic 
style  how  Christ  after  His  death  came  to  Hades, 
set  free  the  OT  saints,  and  took  them  to  Heaven, 
while  He  cast  Satan,  who  desired  to  detain  Him  in 
Hades,  into  Tartarus  (Gr.  text,  cap.  vi.  p.  329  ;  Lat. 
text  B,  cap.  viii.  p.  429  ;  somewhat  differently  Lat. 
text  A,  cap.  vi.  p.  400  :  '  tradidit  eum  inferi  potes- 
tati ').  According  to  this  account,  therefore,  there 
are  two  elements  in  the  Descensus,  viz.  Christ's 
deliverance  of  the  OT  fathers  from  Hades,  and  His 
victory  over  Satan.  The  latter  is  not  found  in  the 
earlier  sources,  being  a  mythological  expansion — 
traceable  as  far  back  as  Origen  (in  Gen.  hom.  17.  5, 
ed.  Lommatzsch,  Berlin,  1831-48,  viii.  290) — of  the 
NT  conception  of  Christ's  victory  over  Satan  com- 
bined with  Ac  2";  the  former  —  the  deliverance 
of  the  saints — corresponds  to  the  tradition  which 
can  be  traced  back  to  Justin's  time.  And  that 
this  conception  of  the  Descensus  may  be  regarded 
as  distinctively  that  of  the  early  Church  is  corro- 
borated by  the  following  facts.  (1)  Irenaeus  (in  all 
the  passages  quoted  above)  and  Justin  (loc.  cit.) 
give  Scripture  proofs  of  the  view  in  question, 
and  they  also  cite  an  OT  (apocryphal)  passage  as 
follows :  '  Commemoratus  est  Dominus,  sanctus 
Israel,  mortuorum  suorum  qux  dormierant  in  terra 
sepultionis,  et  descendit  ad  eos  cangelizare  salu- 
tem,  quae  est  ab  eo,  ut  salvaret  eos'  (Iren.  iii.  20. 
4  [ii.  108] ;  cf.  A.  Resch,  '  Ausserkanon.  Parallel- 
texte  zu  d.  Evangelien,'  TU  x.  1  and  2,  p.  372  ff.). 
(2)  It  is  evident  thaA  Celsus,  the  pagan  adversary 
of  Christianity,  was  acquainted  with  this  view  ; 
according  to  Origen  (c.  Celsum,  ii.  43  [ed.  Koetschau, 
Leipzig,  1899,  i.  166]),  he  speaks  of  Christ  thus :  pi) 
irelaas  toi)s  tide  Bvras  iffriWero  els  $dov  ireUrwv  toi)s 
4k&  (3)  Marcion's  conception  of  the  Descensus  is 
obviously  a  characteristic  travesty  of  that  recog- 
nized by  the  Church ;  thus,  according  to  Irenseus 
(adv.  Hmr.  i.  27.  3  [i.  218 f.]),  Marcion  taught: 

'  Cain  et  eos  qui  similes  sunt  ei,  et  Sodomitas  et  Aegyptios  et 
similes  eis  et  omnes  omnino  gentes  quae  in  omni  permixtione 
malignitatis  ambulaverunt,  salvatas  esse  a  Domino,  cum 
descepidisset  ad  inferos,  .  .  .  Abel  autem  et  Enoch  et  Noe  et 
reliquos  justos  et  eos  qui  sunt  erga  Abraham  patriarchas,  cum 
omnibus  prophetis  et  his  qui  placuerunt  Deo,  non  participasse 
salutem.  .  .  .  Quoniam  enim  sciebant,  inquit,  Deum  suum 
semper  tentantem  eos,  et  tunc  tentare  eum  suspicati,  non 
accurrerunt  Jeau  neque  crediderunt  ammntiationi  ejus ;  et 
propterea  remansisse  animas  ipsorum  apud  inferos  dixit.' 

Moreover,  we  cannot  appeal  to  Rufinus  as  a 
witness  against  the  theory  that  the  conception  of 
the  Descensus  thus  travestied  by  Marcion  was  the 
accredited  doctrine  of  the  Churcb.  It  may  well  be 
that  Rufinus  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  the 
'  descendit  ad  inferos '  in  his  own  Symbol.  His  first 
remark  regarding  it  is  :  '  vis  verbi  eadem  videtur 
esse  in  eo,  quod  sepultus  dicitur,'  while,  further 
on,  along  with  other  passages  of  Scripture,  he 
incidentally  refers  to  1  P  319,  which,  as  he  thinks. 


tells  us  '  quid  operis  [Christus]  in  inferno  egerit ' 
(Comm.  in  Symbol,  cap.  18  and  28  [Migne,  PL  xxi. 
356  and  364]).  After  all,  it  is  quite  true  that  the 
Article  '  descendit  ad  inferos '  bears  essentially  the 
same  meaning  as  the  people  of  that  day  found  in 
the  Article  'sepultus  est.'  Christ  went  to  Hades, 
according  to  the  beliefs  of  the  age,  precisely  be- 
cause He  died  and  was  buried  :  '  Christus  Deus,' 
says  Tertullian,  '  quia  et  homo,  mortuus  secundum 
scripturas,  et  sepultus  secundum  easdem,  huic 
quoque  legi  satisfecit,  forma  humanae  mortis  apud 
inferos  functus'  (de  Anima,  55  [ed.  Reifferscheid, 
i.  388,  1-3]).  We  must  not  forget  that  Jews  as 
well  as  Greeks  regarded  the  grave  and  Hades  as 
identical ;  the  Didaskalia  Apostolorum  contains 
a  passage — one,  moreover,  of  quasi-Symbolical 
character — which  brings  Christ's  liberation  of  the 
OT  saints  into  immediate  connexion  with  His 
death  : 

'qui  crucifixus  est  sub  Pontio  Pilato  et  dormivit,  ut  evangeli. 
zaret  Abraham  et  Isaak  et  Jakob  et  Sanctis  suis  universis  tarn 
finem  saeculi  quam  resurrectionem  quae  erit  mortuorum '  (y\.  6, 
23.  8 ;  ed.  Funk,  Didascalia  et  Constitutiones  Apostolorum, 
Paderborn,  1905,  i.  3S2). 

9.  Original  signification  of  the  doctrine. — We 
proceed  to  ask  whether  the  conception  of  the 
Descensus  thus  recognized  by  the  early  Church — 
the  conception  which  has  been  preserved  most 
faithfully  in  the  Orthodox  Eastern  Church,  and 
still  looms  through  the  Roman  Catholic  doctrine, 
but  which  differs  radically  from  the  formulated 
views  of  the  Protestant  Churches,  as  also  from  the 
'  modern '  interpretation  of  the  Descensus  as  a 
preaching  to  unbelievers — was  the  original.  But 
this  really  leads  to  the  antecedent  question  whether 
the  view  shown  to  have  been  held  by  Tertullian, 
Irenaeus,  and  Justin  can  be  traced  still  further 
back.  In  Hennas  (Simil.  ix.  16.  5)  we  find  the 
theologoumenon :    ol  air6VToX.cn  ical  ol  8iSo.o-ko.Xoi. 

Ol  KT|pV^aVT€S  TO  OVOUCk  TOV  viov  TOV   0COV   KOifl7}d4PT£S 

.  .  .  iK^ipv^av  koI  rots  irpoKCKoi/j.ijfie'iiois.  Clearly, 
therefore,  flermas  knew  nothing  of  a  'Descensus 
Christi  ad  inferos'  in  the  sense  ascribed  to  it  by 
Tertullian,  Irenaeus,  and  Justin.  The  present 
writer  is,  nevertheless,  convinced — with  J.  B. 
Lightfoot  and  other  scholars — that  an  idea  of  the 
Descensus  very  similar  to  that  held  by  these 
Fathers  can  be  traced  even  in  Ignatius.  Speaking 
of  the  prophets,  the  latter  says  that  they  had 
hoped  and  waited  for  Jesus  Christ,  iv  <J  (sc. 
'Itjo-ov  XpcflTcp)  ko.1  irio-T€vo~avT€S  4o-«0T|o*av  .  .  .  xnrb 
'\-qaov  XpttTToO  .  .  .  <ruvi)pL0u.T||i€voi  e>  tcj  euayye\l<p 
tt)s  Kowijs  4\irlSos  (Philad.  v.  2,  ed.  Lightfoot,  Lond. 
1889,  ii.  262  f.),  while  the  same  thought  is  found  in 
Magn.  ix.  2  (ii.  131),  which  speaks  of  Christ  and 
the  prophets  thus :  8c  Smalins  aviixevov,  irapuv  tJYeipev 
aviTous  etc  vcKpuv.  Nor  does  the  present  writer  doubt 
that  these  ideas  of  the  Descensus  likewise  underlie 
the  thought  of  Ignatius  when  he  speaks  of  Jesus 
Christ  as  the  $ipa  tov  Tarpbs,  SV  J/s  elatoxovTai  'Afipaa/j. 
Kal  'Icract/c  Kal  'IaKW/9  Kal  ol  Trpotpijrai  Kal  ol  ctTocrroXoc  Kal 
t\  iKKki\o-[a  (Philad.  ix.  1 ;  Lightfoot,  ii.  274).  Are 
we  to  assume,  then,  that  the  ideas  of  Ignatius  re- 
garding the  deliverance  of  the  OT  saints  from 
Hades  were  identical  with  those  of  Tertullian  and 
Irenaeus?  The  present  writer  is  of  opinion  that 
they  were  not  quite  identical.  In  order  to  become 
convinced  of  this  we  must  first  examine  the  eschato- 
logical  beliefs  of  Irenaeus  and  Tertullian.  Here 
Tertullian  is  the  clearer  of  the  two.  He  says, 
quite  unmistakably,  that  'no  one  enters  Heaven 
before  the  end  of  the  world' :  'nulli  patet  coelum, 
terra  adhuc  salva,  ne  dixerim  clausa,  cum  trans- 
actione  enim  mundi  reserabuntur  regna  coelorum ' 
(de  Anima,  55  [ed.  Reifferscheid,  i.  388.  17ff.]). 
Until  the  Last  Day,  therefore,  the  dead  are  in  an 
intermediate  state ;  the  universal  law  is  that  all 
the  dead,  Christians  included,  pass  after  death 
into   Hades :    '  omnis    ergo  anima  penes  inferos. 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Christ's) 


66) 


Inquis !  Velis  ac  nolis,  et  supplicia  jam  illic  et 
refrigeria.  Habes  pauperem  et  diviteni '  (ib.  58  ; 
i.  394.  9-11).  The  allusion  to  Lk  1619ff-  shows  that 
Tertullian  located  'Abraham's  bosom'  (v.221),  like- 
wise '  apud  inferos. '  But  he  was  also  aware  that 
the  souls  of  martyrs  pass  immediately  into  '  Para- 
dise ' :  '  nemo  enim  peregrinatus  a  corpore  statim 
inmioratur  penes  Dominum  nisi  ex  martyrii  prae- 
rogativa, paradiso  scilicet,  non  inferis  diversurus' 
(de  Res.  Cam.  43,  ed.  Oehler,  Leipzig,  1851-53, 
p.  973  ;  cf.  de  Anima,  55  [Reifferscheid,  i.  389.  3] : 
'  tota  paradisi  clavis  tuus  sanguis ').  Nor  does  Ter- 
tullian appear  to  deny  that  even  the  patriarchs 
saved  by  Christ — the  '  appendices  dominicae  resur- 
rectionis' — tarry  in  Paradise  till  the  'transactio 
mundi '  {de  Anima,  55  [Reifferscheid,  i.  388.  21  ff.]). 
What  then  is  Paradise  ?  A  '  locus  divinae  amoeni- 
tatis  recipiendis  sanctorum  spiritibus  destinatus ' 
(Apol.  47  [Oehler,  p.  145]),  to  be  distinguished  from 
that  Hades  which  contains  the  souls  of  most  of  the 
dead,  as  an  '  aliud  et  privatum  hospitium '  (de 
Anima,  55  [ReiS'erscheid,  i.  388.  29]),  yet  in  the  last 
resort  clearly  a  section  of  the  'inferi,'  identical 
wiih  the  'sinus  Abrahae,'  where  'expectandae  re- 
surrectionis  solacium  capitur'  (ib.).  Irenaeus,  who, 
it  must  be  confessed,  appears  not  to  have  fully 
mastered  the  heterogeneous  mass  of  traditions 
before  him,  held  a  view  essentially  the  same  (cf. 
L.  Atzberger,  Gesch.  d.  christl.  Eschatol.  innerhalb 
d.  vornican.  Zeit,  Freiburg  in  B.,  1896,  p.  238 ff.). 
But  he  seems  to  think  of  the  irv£vfj.a.Tocp6poi  (i.e. 
truly  spiritual  Christians,  martyrs,  and  other  speci- 
ally mature  believers)  who  enjoy  in  Paradise  a 
foretaste  of  a<p9apala  (adv.  Hcer.  v.  5.  1  [ii.  331])  not 
merely — with  Tertullian — as  'spiritus,'  but  also, 
perhaps  on  the  authority  of  1  Co  54  (a  passage 
which  he  often  cites  [cf.  Harvey,  ii.  521])— as  en- 
dowed with  what  we  may  call  provisional  bodies 
(cf.  what  is  said,  op.  cit.  p.  330,  about  Enoch  and 
Elijah).  Now,  we  see  at  once  that,  with  respect  to 
the  views  of  Irenseus  and  Tertullian,  the  same  ques- 
tions urge  themselves  upon  us  as  arose  in  connexion 
with  the  recognized  doctrine  of  the  Eastern  Church 
(see  above,  end  of  §  2).  According  to  the  beliefs  of 
the  two  Fathers  regarding  Paradise,  all  that  Christ 
could  accomplish  on  the  occasion  of  His  Descensus 
was — to  put  it  somewhat  crudely — to  place  the  OT 
saints  in  a  better  region  of  Hades.  Did  Ignatius 
too  share  this  view  ?  And  is  this  the  original  idea 
of  the  Descensus"1.  The  former  question — little  as 
Ignatius  says  of  the  matter — may,  as  we  think,  be 
answered  in  the  negative.  What  Christ  did  for  the 
prophets,  according  to  Ignatius  (Magn.  ix.  2),  was  : 
T)7«p€v  aiTois  ck  vtKpuv.  Was  Ignatius  thinking 
here  of  a  bodily  resurrection,  and  of  what  is 
narrated  in  Mt  2752f- 1  T.  Zahn  (Ign.  v.  Antiochien, 
Gotha,  1873,  p.  598  f.)  believes  that  he  was.  But 
the  hypothesis  is  belied  by  the  first  of  the  Ignatian 
passages  already  quoted  (Philad.  v.  2),  according 
to  which  the  prophets  are  awqpt.6iJ.-nfUvoi.  (v  rtf 
ei)ayyeM<|j  T7;s  kolvtjs  iXiridos,  i.e.  they  look  forward, 
exactly  like  the  Christians,  to  the  avA.a-Ta.tris  aapxbs. 
It  is  certainly  possible  that  Ignatius  agreed  with 
Irenseus  in  believing  that  prophets  and  patriarchs 
had  acquired  provisional  bodies.  But  the  true 
sense  of  the  Ignatian  references,  as  the  present 
writer  thinks,  leaves  us  free  either  to  accept  this 
theory  or  to  assume  that,  like  Tertullian,  he  was 
thinking  only  of  the  'spiritus'  of  the  prophets. 
Perhaps  his  cogitations  had  never  brought  him 
face  to  face  with  the  alternative  ;  for  it  is  obvious 
that  in  his  eyes  the  essence  of  the  matter  was  that 
Christ  had  vouchsafed  to  the  OT  saints  the  same 
salvation  as  Christians  had  obtained.  What  then, 
according  to  Ignatius,  is  the  position  of  Christians 
with  respect  to  death  ?  So  far  as  he  himself  was 
concerned,  he  does  not  look  forward  to  a  sojourn 
in  Hades  ;  he  hopes,  at  his  approaching  decease,  to 


win  God  (QeoO  itrtTv^eiv,  Rom.  i.  2,  ii.  1,  etc.),  to  go 
to  the  Father  (ib.  vii.  2),  to  be  united  to  Christ 
(ib.  vii.  3  ;  cf.  E.  von  der  Goltz,  Ign.  als  Theologe, 
Leipzig,  1894,  p.  38).  Bo  these  words  imply  that 
Ignatius,  as  one  about  to  become  a  martyr,  longed 
for  the  '  prerogative '  (cf.  Tertullian's  phrase  quoted 
in  preced.  col. )  of  '  statim  penes  dominum  esse '  ? 
Such  an  interpretation  seems  quite  at  variance 
with  the  manner  in  which  he  speaks  of  himself 
elsewhere.  He  must  have  supposed,  accordingly, 
that,  although  Christians  will  not  attain  the  resur- 
rection of  the  body  until  the  Last  Day,  yet  they 
do  not  fall  under  the  bondage  of  death,  i.e.  Hades, 
but  pass  through  the  gate  of  death  to  eternal  life. 
It  is  clear  that,  according  to  Ignatius,  that  whicli 
Christians  experience  immediately  after  death  was 
imparted,  in  virtue  of  Christ's  descent,  also  to  the 
OT  saints.  That  these  reflexions  of  Ignatius  are 
of  a  more  primitive  character  than  those  of  Iremeus 
and  Tertullian  appears  probable  from  the  fact  that 
they  exhibit  a  higher  degree  of  self-consistency, 
and  are  in  perfect  accord  with  ideas  suggested  by 
Jn  8"  and  ll2e,r-  (cf.  II24).  But  this  priority  is  also 
capable  of  proof.  First  of  all,  it  is  worthy  of  note 
that  the  phrase  Ijyeipev  airois  4k  veKpwv  used  by 
Ignatius  is  found  in  later  statements  regarding  the 
Descensus  which  are  unquestionably  independent 
of  him.  In  the  Acta  Thaddaei,  written  c.  A.D.  250, 
Christ  is  referred  to  in  these  terms :  iaravpwdTi,  Kal 
KaripTi  els  rbv  q.bi}v,  Kal  Si^o'xto'e  (ppaypibv  rbv  i£  aluivos 
fj.%  ax^a64vra,  Kal  avifyeLpev  veKpovs'  Kal  Kar^ij  fibvos, 
(W/3?/  Se  fiera  ttoWoO  tix^ov  irpbs  rbv  iraripa.  at/rot) 
(Euseb.  HE  i.  13.  20,  ed.  E.  Schwartz,  Leipzig, 
1907,  i.  96).  The  iyelpeiv,  indeed,  is  still  found  in  the 
Gospel  of  Nicodemus  (viii. ,  p.  330).  Another  import- 
ant point  is  that  Tertullian  and  Irenseus  expressly 
oppose  the  theory  that  Christians  do  not  go  to 
Hades  (cf .  Kattenbusch,  op.  cit.  ii.  902  ff. ).  Of  his 
opponents  on  this  point  Tertullian  says  :  '  qui  satis 
superbe  non  putant  animas  fidelium  inferis  dignas ' 
(de  Anima,  55  [Reiff.  i.  388.  7]) ;  '  In  hoc,  inquiunt, 
Christus  inferos  adiit,  ne  nos  adiremus ;  ceterum 
quod  discrimen  ethnicorum  et  christianorum,  si 
career  mortuis  idem?'  (ib.  55  [Reiff.  i.  388.  10 ff.]). 
Irenseus,  again,  censures  those  within  the  Church 
(cf.  adv.  Hcer.  v.  31.1:  '  qui  putantur  recte  credi- 
disse')  who  believe  'interiorem  hominem  ipsorum 
derelinquentem  hie  corpus,  in  supercoelestem  as- 
cendere  locum '  (adv.  Hmr.  v.  31.  2  [ii.  412]). 
Now,  the  real  innovators  here  are  not  those  who 
were  thus  assailed  by  Irenseus  and  Tertullian,  and 
whose  views,  it  may  be  added,  were  still  at  work 
in  the  time  of  Pelagius  (cf.  Loofs,  Dogmengesch.*, 
Halle,  1907,  p.  421),  but  these  Fathers  themselves. 
Finally,  the  older  view  still  asserts  itself  in  the 
thought  of  Irenseus  :  '  Ecclesia  .  .  .  multitudinem 
martyrum  .  .  .  praemittit  ad  patrem '  (adv.  Hmr. 
iv.  33.  9  [ii.  263]),  and,  in  fact,  the  belief  that  the 
martyrs  and  saints  are  even  now  with  Christ  long 
survived  throughout  the  Western  Church,  as  also 
— though  with  manifold  inconsistencies — in  the 
East. 

Thus  the  most  primitive,  or,  at  least,  the  earliest 
traceable,  element  in  the  conception  of  the  De- 
scensus would  seem  to  be  the  belief  that  Christ, 
having  descended  into  the  under  world  after  His 
death,  delivered  the  OT  saints  from  that  necessity 
of  being  confined  in  Hades  which  was  thencefor- 
ward abrogated  in  the  case  of  believers,  and  con- 
veyed them  to  the  Heaven  which  all  believers  have 
hereafter  the  right  to  enter. 

io.  Relation  of  doctrine  to  primitive  Christian 
ideas. — That  in  this  most  primitive,  i.e.  earliest 
traceable,  view  we  have  reached  the  primordial 
element  of  the  doctrine  is  rendered  probable  by 
the  fact  that  the  view  in  question  is  closely  con- 
nected with  certain  important  and,  indeed,  central 
ideas  in  primitive  Christianity.     Reference  can  be 


662 


DESCENT  TO  HADES  (Christ's) 


made  here  only  to  a  few  points.  (1)  This  earliest 
phase  of  the  conception  shows  not  the  slightest  in- 
fluence of  that  high  esteem  accorded,  from  the  days 
of  the  Apologists,  to  the  pious  heathen  who  lived 
before  Christ ;  it  numbers  with  the  Church  of  God 
only  the  saints  of  the  Old  Covenant.  (2)  It  does 
justice  to  the  primitive  Christian  conviction  that 
Christ  was  the  TrpwTbroKos  iic  veKpdiv  (Col  l18,  1  Co 
152"),  the  One  who  brought  life  (Paul,  John,  1  P  Is, 
Heb.,  Ac  42  1332ff-  1731).  (3)  It  ignores  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  Resurrection  and  the  Ascension 
of  Christ,  and,  indeed,  with  not  a  few  primitive 
Christian  documents  (cf.  Barnab.  xv.  9,  ed.  Har- 
nack2,  Leipzig,  1878,  p.  66,  and  Harnack's  note), 
treats  the  two  as  one.  We  may  well  wonder, 
indeed,  that  the  opponents  of  the  bodily  resurrec- 
tion of  Jesus  have  never  appealed  to  this  concep- 
tion of  the  Descensus,  i.e.  the  iyepBqvai  £k  veKpQv  of 
the  patriarchs  and  their  entrance  into  Heaven  with 
Christ — though  there  are,  of  course,  arguments 
which  would  tell  against  such  a  procedure.  Even 
the  relatively  late  Gospel  of  Nicodemus  allows  no 
time  at  all  for  the  bodily  resurrection  of  Christ, 
and  that  event  is  made  known  to  the  world,  not  by 
His  appearance,  but  by  the  preaching  of  those  who 
have  come  with  Him  from  Hades  (xi.  332;  Lat. 
text  A,  4061;  B,  431). 

Another  link  of  evidence  for  the  antiquity  of  the 
conception  set  forth  in  §  9  is  that  traces  of  it  are 
found  in  the  NT.  Not  certainly  in  1  Peter ;  for, 
as  will  be  seen  from  all  that  has  been  said,  if  the 
much-canvassed  passages  in  that  work  refer  to  the 
Descensus  at  all,  they  would  indicate  a  view  which 
is  quite  unique  and  finds  no  support  in  the  tradition 
of  the  early  Church.  The  Pauline  Epistles,  again, 
in  spite  of  Ro  107  and  Eph  49,  have  in  our  opinion 
as  little  to  say  of  the  Descensus  as  Ac  2271  s'  :  all 
that  these  passages  imply  is  the  sojourn  of  Christ 
in  Hades  which,  in  the  minds  of  the  writers,  was 
necessarily  involved  in  His  death.  It  is  possible, 
however,  that  the  belief  in  the  Descensus  is  pre- 
supposed in  Rev  \m  {lxu  T<"  k\cis  tov  8a.va.T0v  koX  toO 
$8ov) ;  while  Jn  8B8  (Aftpaap.  6  tvo.tt\p  vp.dv  ijyaXKid- 
aaro  tva  tdy  tt)v  ijp.e'pav  tt\v  ip.-qv  ical  ctSe  Kal  cx&P1)) 
— a  passage  which,  as  we  think,  still  awaits  a  satis- 
factory exegesis — becomes  intelligible  when  it  is 
taken  to  refer  to  Christ's  presence  in  Hades.  It  is 
true  that  the  saying,  as  put  into  the  mouth  of 
Jesus,  would  thus  involve  a  violent  anachronism. 
But  is  an  adequate  exposition  of,  e.g.,  Jn  6  possible 
except  on  the  hypothesis  of  similar  anachronisms  ? 

We  are  on  surer  ground  in  saying  that  the  idea 
of  the  Descensus  was  known  to  the  author  of 
Hebrews.  Thus,  of  the  OT  saints  whom  he  cites 
in  ch.  11  as  witnesses  of  faith  he  says  expressly : 
outol  Tr&vres  .  .  .  ovk  iKopJ.tro.vTO  T7]v  £Tayye\lav,  TOV 
Qeov  irepl  T)p.Cjv  icpeiTTbv  tl  irpofiXetf/apUvov,  tva  a-f]  x^pls 
T)|iaiv  Te\eiw8Zaiv  (ll39'') ;  then  in  ch.  12  he  assumes 
that  even  now  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  contains  not 
only  the  inKkyala  irpworbKoiv  (Apostles  and  other 
believers  of  the  first  generation),  but  also  the  irvei- 
fiara  SiKalwv  Tere\eiui/±£i>(jiv  (1222'-).  Now  these  oVraioi 
TereXutoptvoi.  must  also  include  the  heroes  of  faith 
mentioned  in  ch.  11.  Until  Christ  came,  however, 
the  way  into  the  holy  place  was  not  open  to  them 
(cf.  98  :  touto  BtjXovvtos  tov  Hvevparos  tov  Aylov,  firjirto 
iretpavepuxrdai  Trt\v  tGiv  aytuv  bbbv  Zti  ttjs  Trp<bn)s  aK7jvT)s 
ixovo-ns  o-T&criv).  Christ  alone,  who  TeXetuitfeis  iyivero 
irdai  rots  vrraKotiovo-iv  aurtp  atrios  (TUTTjptas  alwviov  (59), 
can  have  opened  to  them  the  holy  place  ;  through 
His  death  our  Trpbdpop.as  (620)  entered  the  holy  place, 
els  avrbv  rbv  oipavbv  (9M) ;  tvetcalvurev  ij/uv  bSbv  Trpba- 
<pa.Tov  Kal  £Gio~av,  bib.  tov  KaTaTreracpaTos,  tovt  tan  ttJs 
o-ap/cos  avrov  (1020).  In  all  these  passages,  no  doubt, 
the  writer  is  thinking  primarily  of  Christ's  sacri- 
ficial death,  but  do  his  words  not  gain  in  clearness 
when  we  assume  that  he  had  also  the  Descensus  in 
his  mind? 


Finally,  it  seems  to  the  writer  to  be  beyond 
question  that  the  idea  of  the  Descensus  underlies 
Mt  2761'83.  It  has  been  aptly  observed  by  Resch 
( '  Ausserkanon  Paralleltexte  z.  d.  Evangelien,'  TU 
x.  1  and  2,  1893-94,  p.  362)  that  the  Gospel  0/ 
Nicodemus  indicates  the  sense  in  which  the  open- 
ing of  the  graves  and  the  resurrection  of  saints 
narrated  in  these  verses  was  understood,  since  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  doubt  that  the  writer  of  the  First 
Gospel  favoured  a  similar  view.  We  might  even 
ask,  indeed,  whether  the  rending  of  the  KaTairiraa pa 
in  Mt  2751  is  not  simply  a  mythical  representation 
of  the  thought  expressed  in  He  102U,  viz.  that 
Christ  set  open  the  way  into  the  holy  place  Sib.  tou 
KaTairerao'  p.a.TOS. 

11.  Hybrid  origin  of  doctrine  excluded. — The 
Johannine  writings,  the  Ep.  to  the  Hebrews,  and 
Mt  2761"53  belong,  however,  to  the  latest  stratum  of 
the  NT.  That  the  conception  of  the  Descensus,  as 
set  forth  in  §  g,  was  current  in  the  earlier  Apostolic 
period  must,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  Pauline 
Epp.  are  silent  regarding  it,  and  that  there  is  no 
trace  of  it  in  Hernias  (cf.  p.  660b),  be  regarded  as 
improbable.  But  from  what  was  said  in  the  fore- 
going paragraph  we  must  recognize  the  presence  of 
the  idea  in  the  later  Apostolic  period.  This  fact, 
and,  still  more,  the  fact  that  the  idea  of  the 
Descensus  is  connected  with  primitive  Christian- 
Jewish  views  of  Hades  and  eternal  life  (cf.  also 
§  10),  are  sufficient,  as  we  think,  to  negative  the 
theory  that  the  belief  was  in  part  generated  by 
non-Jewish  and  non-Christian  influences  —  ideas 
from  alien  religions.  Such  a  mixed  origin  has 
been  ascribed  to  it  by  not  a  few  modern  scholars 
(cf.  Clemen,  Religionsgesch.  Erklarung  d.  NT, 
Giessen,  1909,  pp.  153-156  ;  H.  Zimmern,  KAp, 
pp.  388,  563  ;  H.  Gunkel,  Zum  religionsgesch.  Ver- 
Mandnis  d.  NT,  Gbttingen,  1903,  p.  72 ;  O.  Pflei- 
derer,  Das  Urchristentum2,  Berlin,  1902,  ii.  288, 
also  Das  Christusbild  des  urchristl.  Glaubens  in 
religionsgesch.  Beleuchtung,  Berlin,  1903,  pp.  65-71  ; 
A.  Meyer,  Die  Auferstehung  Christi,  Tubingen, 
1905,  pp.  10  and  80 ;  W.  Bousset,  Hauptprobleme 
d.  Gnosis,  Gbttingen,  1907,  pp.  255-260;  Percy 
Gardner,  Exploratio  Evangelical,  London,  1907, 
pp.  263-74  ;  and  others).  But  the  many  and  vari- 
ous parallels  that  have  been  pointed  out  are — as 
parallels — anything  but  convincing ;  the  similari- 
ties are  nothing  like  so  many  as  the  differences, 
and  the  hypothesis  that  these  exotic  ideas  exerted 
an  influence  upon  the  genesis  of  the  Descensus-ides. 
not  only  remains  unproved,  but  is  in  the  highest 
degree  improbable. 

12.  Specifically  early  Christian  character  of  doc- 
trine.— The  conception  of  the  Descensus,  as  defined 
above  (§  9),  must  accordingly  be  recognized  as  a 
specifically  Christian  idea  which  goes  back  to  the 
later  decades  of  the  primitive  Church,  and  as  such 
it  has  a  strong  claim  upon  our  interest.  The  con- 
ception, in  fact,  holds  a  quite  peculiar  position,  for 
it  is  the  sole  vestige  of  primitive  Christian  thought 
which,  independently  of  the  Bible — with  marked 
modifications  and  variations,  indeed,— still  retains 
a  place  in  the  tradition  of  all  the  main  divisions  of 
the  Christian  Church.  Even  so,  however,  the  modern 
mind  cannot  bring  to  it  more  than  interest ;  we 
cannot  now  accept  it  as  part  of  our  faith.  The 
Jewish-Christian  beliefs  regarding  Hades  and  the 
sojourn  of  the  soul  therein,  as  also  those  regarding 
Heaven,  which  underlie  the  idea  of  the  Descensus, 
belong  to  a  cosmology  which  even  the  most  deter- 
mined laudator  temporis  acti  cannot  now  accept. 
The  conception,  moreover,  is  really  inseparable 
from  these  underlying  beliefs,  and,  when  the  latter 
crumble  away,  nothing  of  the  former  remains.  We 
can  appraise  the  doctrine  of  the  Descensus  only  in 
a  historical  sense,  i.e.  as  a  conception  which  bring? 
into  strong  relief  the  primitive  Christian  conviction 


DESIRE 


663 


that  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  was  something 
altogether  new,  and  which  with  its  naive  imagery 
graphically  expresses  not  only  the  connexion  be- 
tween the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  but  also  the 
original  element  in  the  new  covenant.  In  fact, 
the  Descensus-idea.  embodies  in  its  own  manner 
the  very  same  thought  as  is  expressed  in  the  words 
of  Ignatius,  Philad.  ix.  2 :  i^alperbv  n  (x(l  T0  eiay- 
ycXtov,  rr\v  irapovffiav  tov  ffwr^poj,  Kvplov  i]fj.ujv  'lnffou 
Xpi&Tov,  to  rrddos  aOroO  tcai  tt)v  dvaffraaiv'  ol  yap  d7a- 
TTjToi  irpotpijTat.  KaTjiyytiXav  els  aurdV,  to  Se  eiayyiXiov 
av6.pri.ff fid  (ittlv  a<pOap<rlas.  But  precisely  this  manner 
of  expression  is  one  of  the  most  antiquated  and 
assailable  elements  with  which  the  tradition  of  the 
Christian  Churches  is  still  encumbered.  It  were 
fitting,  therefore,  that  the  Churches  distinguished 
as  Evangelical  should  omit  the  Article  '  descendit 
ad  inferos '  from  their  programmes  of  instruction  in 
Christian  doctrine  and  worship. 

Literature. — J.  A.  Dietelmaier,  Hist,  dogmatis  de  descensu 
Christi  ad  inferos  Zitteraria,  Aitdorf,  1741,  -emendatior  et 
auctior,  1762 ;  J.  L.  Konig,  Die  Lehre  von  Christi  Hbllenfahrt, 
etc.,  Frankfort  a.M.,  1842 ;  E.  Giider,  Die  Lehre  von  d.  Er- 
scheinung  Jesu  Christi  unter  d.  Toten,  Berne,  1853 ;  G.  von 
Zezschwitz,  Petri  apostoli  de  Christi  ad  inferos  descensu 
sententia,  Leipzig,  1857 ;  J.  Korber,  Die  kathol.  Lehre  v.  d. 
Hbllenfahrt  Jesu  Christi,  Landshut,  1860;  A.  Schweizer, 
Hinabgefahren  zur  Hblle,  als  Mythus  ohne  biblische  Begriind- 
ung  durch  Auslegung  d.  Stelle  1  Petr.  S,  17-22  nachgewiesen, 
Zurich,  1868 ;  E.  H.  Plumptre,  Spirits  in  Prison,  and  other 
Studies  on  Life  after  Death,  N.Y.  1871, 81885  ;  F.  Huidekoper, 
The  Belief  of  the  First  Three  Centuries  concerning  Christ's  Mis- 
sion to  the  Underworld^,  N.Y.  1876 ;  J.  M.  Usteri,  Hinabge- 
fahren zur  Hblle,  etc.,  Zurich,  1886;  F.  Spitta,  Christi  Predigt 
an  d.  Geister,  Gbttingen,  1890 ;  J.  Cramer,  Exegetica  et  critica 
II :  *  Het  glossematisch  karakter  van  1  Petr.  3, 19-21  en  4.  6 ' 
(Nieuwe  Bijdragen  op  het  gebied  van  godgeleerdheid,  vii.  4 
[Utrecht,  1891],  pp.  73-149) ;  C.  Bruston,  La  Descente  du 
Christ  aux  enfers  d'apres  les  ap6tres  et  d'apres  Viglise,  Paris, 
1897  ;  C.  Clemen,  '  Niedergefahren  zu  d.  Toten,'  Giesaen,  1900  ; 
C.  Turmel,  La  Descente  du  Christ  aux  enfers,  Paris,  1903 ; 
P.  J.  Jensen,  Laeren  om  Eristi  nedfart  til  de  dode,  Copen- 
hagen, 1903  ;  J.  Monnier,  La  Descente  aux  enfers,  Paris,  1905  ; 
H.  Holtzmann,  'Hbllenfahrt  im  NT."  in  ARW  xi.  (Leipzig, 
1908),  285-297 ;  F.  Loofs, '  Christ's  Descent  into  Hell '  in  Trans- 
actions of  the  Third  Internal.  Congress  for  the  Hist,  of  Religions, 
Oxford,  1908,  ii.  290-301.  FEIEDEICH  LOOFS. 

DESCENT  OF  MAN.— See  Evolution. 

DESIGN.— See  Teleology. 

DESIRE. — The  inner  nature  and  outer  scope  of 
human  desire  are  such  as  to  raise  important  ques- 
tions concerning  man's  relation  to  the  world  and 
his  estimate  of  his  own  life  therein.  In  both  a 
theoretical  and  a  practical  manner,  desire  proposes 
certain  questions  for  philosophy  :  on  the  one  side, 
it  is  asked  whether  man  can  desire  aught  but  the 

Eleasurable  ;  on  the  other,  it  is  questioned  whether 
is  attitude  toward  desire  should  be  one  of  accept- 
ance or  rejection.  Just  as  perception  establishes  a 
theoretical  connexion  between  the  mind  and  the 
world,  so  desire  elaborates  a  volitional  relation 
between  the  soul  and  Nature,  so  that  man  is  led  to 
wonder  whether,  like  the  animal,  he  could  silently 
take  his  life  for  granted  or,  self-conscious  and  self- 
uropelled  as  he  is,  should  question  the  authority  of 
natural  desire  over  him.  Owing  to  the  problematic 
nature  of  desire,  it  becomes  necessary  to  inquire 
concerning  the  exact  psychological  type  and  ethical 
worth  of  this  human  function  ;  to  this  construc- 
tive work  must  he  added  critical  considerations 
drawn  from  aesthetics  and  religion.  Thus  we 
must  investigate  what  desire  really  is,  and  in  what 
way,  and  to  what  extent,  it  is  supposed  to  exercise 
sway  over  the  human  soul. 

i.  Psychology  of  desire. — The  nature  of  desire 
is  such  as  to  place  it  between  instinct  and  volition  ; 
it  is  superior  to  instinct  inasmuch  as  it  is  a  definite 
and  conscious  form  of  activity,  while  it  is  inferior 
to  volition  because  it  is  not  propelled  by  a  dis- 
interested, impersonal  idea.  Belonging  to  the 
emotional  process,  desire  has  the  nature  of  active 


feeling ;  all  feeling  tends  to  arouse  activity  in 
either  mind  or  body,  so  that  desire  may  be  regarded 
as  feeling  plus  activity — a  process  according  to 
which  a  painful  want  is  satisfied  or  a  pleasurable 
experience  retained.  Nevertheless,  desire  is  re- 
lated to  both  cognition  and  volition  ;  but,  where 
pure  intellection  and  pure  conation  work  directly 
in  relating  the  ego  to  its  object  as  idea  or  act, 
desire  follows  an  indirect  path,  which  involves 
instinctive  and  personal  considerations.  In  a  cer- 
tain sense,  the  position  of  desire  in  consciousness 
is  exceptional,  for  the  reason  that  acts  are  usually 
performed  directly,  while  ideas  are  entertained  in 
a  purely  mental  manner  not  coloured  by  desire  ;  in 
contrast  to  these  more  staid  forms  of  cognitive  and 
conative  activity,  desire  expresses  a  condition  of 
intensified  human  interest. 

(a)  The  volitional  factor  in  desire  occasions 
a  problem  whose  nature  is  expressed  by  the 
question,  Does  one  always  desire  pleasure  ?  If 
desire  were  purely  aft'ectional,  it  could  easily  be 
pointed  out  that  desire  is  ever  related  to  the 
pleasurable,  aversion  to  the  painful  ;  but  the 
presence  of  conation  spoils  the  simplicity  of  this 
hedonie  arrangement,  and  makes  necessary  one 
that  is  more  extensive  and  complicated.  Perceiv- 
ing the  influence  of  the  will's  activity,  Aristotle 
was  led  to  say :  '  There  are  many  things,  so  to 
speak,  which  we  should  choose  on  account  of  some- 
thing else  than  pleasure'  (Hiravra  yap  uiseiweii/  iripov 
eVexa  alpo6fie$a  tt\tjv  ttJs  ev8atp.ovlas  [Eth.  iVic.  x.  6]). 
In  contrast  to  Aristotle's  eudsemonism,  J.  S.  Mill 
urged  a  hedonism  on  the  basis  of  which  he  insisted 
upon  identifying  desire  with  a  sense  of  pleasure  : 

'  I  believe  that  desiring  a  thing  and  finding  it  pleasant,  aversion 
to  it  and  thinking  of  it  as  painful,  are  phenomena  entirely  in- 
separable, or  rather  two  parts  of  the  same  phenomenon  ;  in 
strictness  of  language,  two  different  modes  of  naming  the  same 
psychological  fact :  that  to  think  of  an  object  as  desirable  (unless 
for  the  sake  of  its  consequences),  and  to  think  of  it  as  pleasant, 
are  one  and  the  same  thing ;  and  that  to  desire  anything,  except 
in  proportion  as  the  idea  of  it  is  pleasant,  is  a  physical  and  meta- 
physical absurdity'  (Utilitarianism,™,  1888,  p.  56). 
This  dogmatism  on  Mill's  part  may  be  explained 
by  observing  that,  where  desire  is  viewed  in  in- 
dependence of  pleasure,  the  invalidity  of  the  hedonie 
argument  is  at  once  demonstrated  ;  for  the  ability 
of  the  ego  to  transcend  pleasure  and  pain  as  deter- 
minants of  action  is  a  preliminary  proof  of  idealism. 
On  the  psychological  side,  it  is  apparent  that,  where 
desiring  an  object  indicates  a  volitional  decision  in 
favour  of  it,  as  worth  while,  still  this  does  not 
mean  emotional  delight  in  it  as  something  pleasur- 
able. The  later  hedonism  of  Sidgwick  admits  this, 
and  its  author,  in  his  anxiety  to  escape  the  egoistic 
implications  of  the  older  hedonism,  declares  : 

1  What  I  am  concerned  to  maintain  is  that  men  do  not  now 
normally  desire  pleasure  alone,  but  to  an  important  extent  other 
things  also '  (Methods  of  Ethics*,  London,  1901,  i.  ch.  iv.  §  4). 
In  identifying  the  pleasurable  and  desirable,  the 
hedonist  has  confused  desire  in  its  active  condition 
with  the  passive  experience  of  delight,  but  the 
human  mind  is  so  constituted  that  it  can  choose 
other  than  delightful  experiences.  From  the  evolu- 
tionary standpoint,  desire  is  related  to  pleasure, 
aversion  to  pain,  upon  the  basis  of  the  hedonie  law 
which  declares  that  the  pleasurable  is  indicative  of 
the  beneficial  in  the  organism,  the  painful  of  the 
harmful. 

'  Every  pleasure,'  says  Herbert  Spencer,  '  increases  vitality  ; 
every  pain  decreases  vitality.  Every  pleasure  raises  the  tide  of 
life  ;  every  pain  lowers  the  tide  of  life  '  (Data  of  Ethics,  New 
York,  1893,  §  36). 

But  the  claim  that  the  pleasure-giving  is  equivalent 
to  the  life-increasing,  the  pain-giving  to  the  life- 
decreasing,  is  based  upon  purely  biological  con- 
siderations, and  is  discussed  by  Spencer  in  the 
chapter  entitled  '  The  Biological  View '  ;  when  he 
advances  to  '  The  Psychological  View,'  as  this  is 
involved  in  the  evolutionary  plan,  he  repudiates 
the  original   hedonie    scheme,    by  claiming   that 


664 


DESIRE 


man  submits  to  guidance,  not  by  simple,  but  by 
representative,  feelings,  whose  ends  are  far  removed 
from  the  sense  of  bodily  benefit  or  injury  (ib.  §  42). 
The  evolutionary  conception  of  conduct  is  thus 
called  upon  to  admit  the  presence  of  something 
like  a  disinterested  play  of  consciousness,  whereby 
man,  emancipated  from  purely  biological  principles, 
chooses  either  pain  or  pleasure  accordmg  to  his 
idea  of  what  has  worth  for  the  will. 

(b)  The  cognitive  factor  in  desire  appears  first  of 
all  in  the  presence  of  a  presentative  element  which 
involves  the  idea  of  an  object  or  end,  so  that 
cognition  as  well  as  conation  tends  to  separate 
desire  from  the  realm  of  purely  instinctive  feeling. 
As  Sully  says,  *  where  there  is  no  knowledge,  there 
can  be  no  desire'  (The  Human  Mind,  ii.  196). 
Such  knowledge  consists  in  the  memory  of  former 
pleasurable  experiences  which  we  would  have 
repeated,  or  the  idea  of  similar  feelings  which  we 
could  realize.  The  perceptible  appreciable  result 
to  be  obtained  by  activity  in  the  direction  of  the 
desired  object  distinguishes  desire  from  instinct, 
which  functions  immediately  without  the  idea  of 
an  end.  As  Bergson  has  expressed  it,  '  there  are 
things  instinct  alone  finds,  but  it  never  seeks 
them'  (L'Evolution  cr6atricee,  1910,  p.  164).  On 
the  cognitive  side,  desire  consists  in  Knowledge  of 
an  object  rather  than  merely  some  pleasurable 
experience  with  its  qualities,  where  one  reads  a 
book  or  listens  to  an  opera,  not  merely  for  the 
attendant  pleasure  of  the  perusal  or  the  perform- 
ance, but  for  the  sake  of  having  read  such  a  book 
or  having  heard  such  an  opera.  Desire  is  satisfied, 
not  merely  by  pleasure,  but  by  means  of  a  con- 
scious experience  with  an  object,  such  as  a  foreign 
country  which  one  visits.  With  its  broad  interests, 
the  intellect  transcends  immediate  pleasures,  and 
advances  to  the  idea  of  thrill  which  is  afforded  by 
contact  with  reality.  In  this  way,  art,  which 
necessarily  demands  the  disinterested,  may  mean 
more  to  the  mind  than  actual  life,  just  as  tragic 
art,  with  its  constant  suggestion  of  pain  and  defeat, 
may  be  more  entertaining  than  the  comic,  with  its 
ideas  of  happiness  and  success.  Through  his  desire 
for  intellectual  excitement,  man  has  demonstrated 
his  ability  to  rise  above  pleasure,  just  as  he  has 
shown  that  to  perform  acts  peculiar  to  his  will  is 
of  more  value  to  him  than  to  entertain  pleasurable 
emotions.  Desire  thus  involves  an  ideal  as  well  as 
a  purely  cognitive  element,  for  by  its  very  nature 
it  contrasts  the  actual  condition  of  the  ego  with  an 
ideal  state  of  mind  ;  the  present  as  given,  with  the 
future  as  the  not  yet  attained.  This  reference  to 
the  future  is  indicative  of  the  difference  between 
desire  and  pleasure  ;  for,  where  pleasure  is  neces- 
sarily contemporaneous,  desire  is  ever  anticipatory, 
so  that,  as  pleasure  enters,  desire  departs.  One 
desires  pleasure  when  he  does  not  possess  it,  but, 
when  pleasure  comes,  the  delight  in  it  dispels  the 
mere  desire  for  it.  In  this  way  arises  the  larger 
question  concerning  happiness,  which  is  sometimes 
conceived  of  as  the  possession  of  the  good,  some- 
times as  the  pursuit  of  it. 

(c)  In  addition  to  the  conative  and  cognitive  in 
desire,  there  is  a  third  element,  without  recognition 
of  which  the  problem  of  desire  cannot  be  sufficiently 
presented  ;  this  is  the  egoistic.  Desire  indicates  a 
form  of  activity  streaming  forth  from  the  ego, 
while  it  is  aimed  at  a  form  of  experience  calculated 
to  affect  the  ego's  condition.  In  themselves,  both 
action  and  thought  possess  an  impersonal  charac- 
ter, since  they  relate  to  causal  and  substantial 
forms  of  reality  found  in  the  outer  world  ;  desire, 
however,  makes  use  of  these  fundamental  forms  of 
mental  reality  only  so  far  as  they  are  of  personal 
interest  to  the  ego  which  desires  to  direct  its 
faculties  of  conation  and  cognition  in  some  par- 
ticular   channel.      Desire    is    so    identified    with 


personal  interest  that  aesthetical  and  religious 
systems  which  counsel  man  to  avoid  desire  do  not 
fail  to  advise  him  to  neglect  self.  As  to  the  rela- 
tion of  man  to  the  world  about  him,  desire  makes 
use  of  an  egoistic  form  of  expression  whereby 
instinct  becomes  conscious  and  voluntary.  The 
fatality  that  may  attach  to  such  a  personal  ex- 
hibition of  instinctive  traits  was  portrayed  by 
Balzac  in  his  philosophic  story,  'The  Magic  Skin,' 
which,  as  a  token,  had  power  to  confer  any  desire, 
but  which  itself  dwindled  with  the  gratification  of 
the  wish  until  at  last  it  destroyed  the  possessor — a 
suggestion  that  one  must  desire  even  though  the 
desiderative  life  will  eventually  destroy  itself. 

2.  Ethics  of  desire. — "Where  the  psychology  of 
desire  ends,  the  ethics  of  desire  begins  —  in  the 
idea  of  value.  With  its  egoistic  and  emotional 
limitations,  desire  cannot  serve  as  an  ethical 
norm,  for  it  has  already  been  shown  to  be  incap- 
able of  accounting  for  impersonal  volition  and 
ideation.  Nevertheless,  desire  may  become  a  de- 
terminant of  value,  because,  where  one  does  not 
necessarily  desire  the  pleasurable,  he  does  desire 
what  he  deems  valuable.  '  Man,'  said  Nietzsche, 
'is  the  valuing  animal  as  such'  [Genealogy  of 
Morals,  tr.  Hausemann,  1897,  ii.  §  8),  and  the 
valuational  in  him  may  be  attributed  to  the 
desiderative  element  in  his  nature.  In  this  way, 
value  becomes  subjective ;  instead  of  adhering  to 
a  thing  as  one  of  its  properties,  instead  of  belong- 
ing to  the  moral  principle  as  one  of  its  attributes, 
value  is  relative  to  human  desire.  From  this  sub- 
jective point,  Chr.  v.  Ehrenfels  has  declared : 

•  We  do  not  desire  things  because  we  recognize  a  mystical, 
unintelligible  essence  of  value  in  them  ;  but  we  attribute  value 
to  them  because  we  desire  them '  (Syst.  cUr  Werttheorie,  w>l.  i.  §  1). 

Basing  value  upon  desire,  Ehrenfels  follows  Bren- 
tano  in  asserting  that  '  one  can  feel  pleasure  and 
pain  without  desiring  ;  and,  second,  one  can  desire 
without  feeling  pleasure  or  pain '  (ib.  §  5).  Having 
made  value  to  consist  of  something  subjective,  he 
seeks  to  show  how,  in  valuing  a  thing  because  of 
its  desirability,  we  are  not  exchanging  absolutism 
for  egoism,  for  we  are  able  to  erect  the  idea  of  an 
absolute  concept  of  value  upon  a  psychic  and  sub- 
jective basis  (t&.  §  16).  Value  thus  stands  for  a 
relation  between  an  object  and  a  subject,  accord- 
ing to  which  the  subject  actually  desires  the  object, 
or  would  desire  it  were  it  not  convinced  that  the 
object  existed  for  it  (ib.  §  21).  The  empiricism 
and  eudsemonism  of  this  view  have  been  criticized 
by  F.  Krueger,  who  substitutes  for  the  idea  of 
actual  desire  that  of  a  relatively  constant  desire 
(Der  Begriff  des  absolut  Wertvollen,  ch.  iii.  1). 
As  Ehrenfels  had  clung  to  realism  in  desire, 
Krueger  seeks  to  advance  towards  idealism.  It  is 
possible,  however,  to  advance  a  stage  beyond  the 
point  of  view  which  regards  value  as  the  relatively 
constant  desire  of  the  subject.  Desire  contains 
not  only  the  egoistic  element,  but  the  impersonal 
factors  of  cognition  and  conation  whereby  the 
moralist  may  secure  a  conception  of  the  supreme 
good  conceived  neither  eudsemonistically  nor  rigor- 
istically,  but  in  a  valuational  manner. 

The  attempt  to  idealize  desire,  that  it  may  be 
elevated  to  the  plane  of  the  valuable,  is  quite  in 
keeping  with  the  inner  nature  of  desire,  with  its 
perpetual  contrast  between  the  real  and  the  ideal, 
the  present  and  the  future.  At  the  same  time,  the 
mingling  of  pain  and  pleasure  in  desire — pain  as  to 
the  given  condition,  pleasure  with  regard  to  a 
conceivable  one — is  only  another  phase  of  the  ideal- 
izing tendency  in  all  desire.  At  first  view,  desire 
seems  to  be  but  a  natural  principle,  at  one  with 
the  will  to  live  and  the  struggle  for  existence,  its 
inner  nature  consisting  apparently  in  the  conscious 
voluntary  choice  of  the  fundamental  striving  of  all 
life.     Thus  viewed,  human  values  are  only  human 


DESIRE 


C68 


desires  directed  towards  an  end.  But  in  the  moral 
consciousness  of  man  the  actual  desire  cannot  be 
accepted  as  an  ethical  norm,  whence  arose  idealism 
in  conduct ;  and  yet  it  is  suggested  that,  were  man 
truly  man,  the  intelligible  rather  than  the  empirical 
ego,  then  the  spontaneous  desires  of  the  human 
heart  would  represent  genuine  values  of  spiritual 
life.  Man  as  a  valeur  lives  according  to  idealized 
desires,  60  that,  where  Nature  originates  through 
organic  striving  and  instinctive  activity,  reason 
continues  this  preliminary  work  by  creating  sub- 
jective values,  whose  essence  consists  in  that  which 
would  be  desired  by  man  in  his  moral  perfection. 
Inasmuch  as  ethics  must  begin  with  man  as  he  is, 
it  finds  it  necessary  to  express  this  idea  of  value 
by  means  of  rectitude  and  duty.  As  a  result, 
ethics,  like  psychology,  cannot  advance  beyond 
the  limits  of  mediocrity  in  man,  who  through 
desire  is  put  in  a  condition  of  sufficiency,  wherein 
interests  take  the  place  of  ideals,  and  man  tran- 
scends Nature  only  to  the  degree  of  elaborating 
the  idea  of  the  human  species,  and  not  that  of 
internal  spiritual  life.  This  defect  in  the  psycho- 
logico-ethical  view  of  man  is  made  up  by  the 
aesthetico-religious  one,  according  to  which  desire 
is  repudiated. 

3.  ./Esthetics  of  desire. — In  the  artistic  world, 
human  desire  is  not  accepted  in  its  immediacy, 
but  is  subjected  to  spiritual  scrutiny.  Where  the 
constructive  mood  of  aesthetics  prevails,  desire  is 
increased  by  the  perception  of  beauty,  which 
Stendhal  (1783-1842)  denned  as  '  a  promise  of 
happiness'  (Nietzsche,  op.  cit.  iii.  §  6)  ;  where  the 
critical  mood  is  uppermost,  beauty  is  regarded  as 
the  dwindling  of  desire  in  the  form  of  disinterested 
contemplation.  One  is  aphrodisiac,  the  other  anti- 
aphrodisiac,  in  its  effect  upon  desire.  Even  among 
the  Greeks  there  was  no  lack  of  antipathy  towards 
the  desiderative  in  aesthetics,  and  it  was  in  this 
spirit  that  Plato  condemned  the  poet,  not  only 
because  his  imitative  art  yielded  an  inferior  degree 
of  truth,  but  because  the  excitement  he  aroused 
expressed  an  inferior  part  of  the  soul — the  pas- 
sionate rather  than  the  reflective.  This  criticism 
he  applied  to  the  drama  especially  (Rep.  604-5). 
Aristotle  conceived  of  art  as  having  the  function 
of  cleansing  the  soul  from  such  desires  as  cause 
distress  by  virtue  of  their  occupancy  in  and  sway 
over  the  soul;  accordingly,  he  defines  tragedy 
as  the  imitation  of  an  action  where  the  effect  is 
produced  by  men  acting  and  through  pity  and  fear 
effecting  a  purification  of  such  passions  (St'  (\4ov 
ko.1  <[>l>fiov  Trepalvovira  rty  tQv  tolovtwv  ira8v[x6.TU)v 
K&dapiriv  [Poet.  ch.  vi.  2]).  Modern  aesthetics  has 
met  the  problem  of  desire  upon  a  basis  more 
psychological,  while  it  has  been  less  rigorous  than 
fvas  Hellenism  in  its  judgment  of  the  desirable  in 
beauty.  The  general  effect  has  been  to  place  the 
disinterested  in  the  position  of  the  desiderative, 
which  idea  was  first  formulated  by  Kant,  although 
Burke's  The  Subline  and  the  Beautiful  (1756) 
and  Baumgarten's  ^Esthetics  (1750-58)  showed  him 
where  beauty  might  be  found.  Kant  seeks  to 
indicate  the  possibility  of  a  feeling-judgment,  or 
taste  ;  the  latter  he  describes  by  saying  : 

'  Taste  is  the  faculty  of  judging  of  an  object  by  an  entirely 
disinterested  satisfaction  or  dissatisfaction '  {Critique  of  Judg- 
ment, tr.  Bernard,  1892,  5  6). 

In  Kant's  mind,  desire  is  fatal  to  beauty,  as  to 
virtue  also ;  hence  his  insistence  upon  the  dis- 
interested in  aesthetic  feeling. 

Schopenhauer  was  more  voluntaristic,  more 
pessimistic ;  hence,  his  doctrine  of  desire  is  more 
severe. 

'  All  willing  springs  from  want,  hence  from  need,  hence  from 
Buffering.  The  satisfaction  of  a  wish  may  end  it,  but  for  every 
one  that  is  satisfied  there  remain  at  least  ten  which  are  denied ; 
further,  desire  lasts  long,  while  its  demands  are  infinite ;  the 
satisfaction  is  short  and  scantily  meted  out.  .  .  .  Therefore,  so 
long  as  our  consciousness  is  tilled  with  will,  so  long  as  we  are 


thronged  by  desires,  with  their  perpetual  hopeB  and  fears,  bo 
long  as  we  are  the  subject  of  willing,  there  can  be  no  lasting 
happiness  or  peace  for  us.  .  .  .  Thus  the  subject  of  willing  is  ever 
stretched  upon  the  revolving  wheel  of  Ixion,  pours  water  into 
the  Bieve  of  the  Danaids,  is  the  ever  fruitlessly  pining  Tantalis 
(Walt  als  Wille  und  Vorstetlung,  §  88). 

This  constant  condition  due  to  human  desire  ia 
relieved  from  time  to  time  by  aesthetic  contempla- 
tion, in  whose  ecstatic  moments  the  subject,  raised 
above  the  desiderative,  enjoys  the  stillness  of  the 
will  to  live  : 

'It  is  the  painless  condition  which  Epicurus  prized  as  the 
highest  good,  as  also  the  condition  of  the  gods  ;  for  we  are  for 
the  moment  delivered  from  the  shameful  striving  of  the  will, 
we  celebrate  the  Sabbath  of  the  forced  servitude  of  willing 
while  the  wheel  of  Ixion  stands  still '  (ib.). 

Wagner  follows  Schopenhauer  in  postulating 
renunciation  of  desire  as  the  most  perfect  aesthetic 
condition,  although  he  finds  it  hard  to  explain  how 
the  particular  art  of  music,  which  involves  the 
highest  excitation  of  the  will,  can  consist  with  the 
state  of  stillness  demanded  by  the  aesthetic  ideal 
(cf .  Beethoven,  Schriften  u.  Dichtungen 3,  Leipzig, 
1898,  v.  9,  p.  72).  In  the  Ring  des  Niebelungen, 
Wagner  indicates  a  double  doctrine  of  desireless- 
ness :  first,  in  Siegfried,  whose  superabundance  of 
power  raises  him  above  want ;  secondly,  in  Wotan, 
who  learns  to  relinquish  the  gold  of  baneful  de- 
siring (cf.  Siegfried,  Act  ii.  ;  Rheingold,  Sc.  iv.). 
In  contrast  to  these  aesthetic  attacks  upon  desire, 
based  upon  a  dread  of  the  will  to  live,  other 
Schopenhauerians  consider  beauty  as  consisting 
in  an  excess  of  the  natural  function  of  willing. 
Nietzsche  thuscriticizes  Schopenhauer  and  Wagner, 
and  returns  to  the  views  set  forth  by  Stendhal,  as 
also  by  Flaubert. 

'Stendhal,'  says  he,  'a  not  less  sensual  but  more  happily 
constituted  nature  than  Schopenhauer,  lays  stress  on  a  different 
effect  of  beauty :  beauty  promises  happiness.  With  him  the 
very  stimulation  of  will  (interest)  by  beauty  seems  to  be  the 
fact '  (op.  cit.  iii.  §  6). 

In  this  positive  treatment  of  desire,  Nietzsche  is 
followed  by  Sudermann,  whose  literary  art  con- 
stantly repudiates  all  restraint.  With  Sudermann, 
this  affirmation  of  desire  is  carried  out  consciously 
and  with  apparent  sincerity,  and,  instead  of 
following  the  animal  instinctiveness  of  Maupassant, 
he  uses  the  sensual  with  the  aim  of  inculcating  an 
egoistic  ethical  doctrine.  Much  the  same  may  be 
said  of  George  Moore  in  distinction  from  Oscar 
Wilde,  because  Moore  employs  the  sensual  for  the 
purpose  of  developing  a  trans-traditional  morality 
(J.  Huneker,  Overtones,  New  York,  1906,  iv.  2). 
This  contradiction  between  the  two  views  of  desire 
is  due  to  a  difference  in  interpretation  of  the  ego  and 
its  position  in  the  world-whole.  Those  who  believe 
in  the  reality  of  spiritual  life  are  inclined  to 
eliminate  desire  by  removing  the  ego  from  the 
field  of  activity,  while  those  who  are  aware  of  no 
beyond  know  no  reason  why  man  should  do  aught 
but  further  the  native  tendencies  towards  self- 
realization.  But,  even  where  the  ego's  desires 
appear  to  be  the  most  obvious  things  in  experience, 
the  artistic  consciousness  distrusts  desire  as  some- 
thing tending  to  delude  the  mind  which  appeals 
to  the  stillness  of  the  inner  life.  This  occasional 
elevation  in  art  is  the  rule  in  religion. 

4.  Desire  and  religion. — Since  spiritual  religion 
consists  in  a  detachment  from  the  world  of  im- 
pressions and  a  repudiation  of  immediate  impulses, 
it  is  necessary  to  consider  its  relation  to  desire. 
With  various  religions,  the  attitude  towards  desire 
is  determined  in  accordance  with  their  general 
attitude  towards  the  world.  Thus  Taoism,  which 
regards  reality  as  something  empty  of  content  and 
wanting  in  attributes,  upholds  the  repression  of 
desire ;  Buddhism,  with  its  acosmic  tendency, 
urges  its  complete  extirpation ;  Christianity,  while 
not  wanting  in  this  critical  attitude  towards  the 
natural  in  both  man  and  the  world,  advises  one  to 
train  the  desires. 


666 


DESIRE  (Buddhist) 


The  leading  principle  in  Taoism  is  that  of  empti- 
ness and  inactivity,  wherein  the  dialectical  superi- 
ority of  the  Tao  consists  (Tao  Teh  King,  tr.  Legge, 
1891,  chs.  11,  37).  Accordingly  the  man  of  Tao 
seeks  by  the  repression  of  desire  to  reduce  himself 
to  this  kenotic  condition  ;  hence  the  sage  seeks  to 
withdraw  the  mind  from  external  impressions  like 
colours,  tones,  flavours,  and  the  like  (ib.  ch.  12). 
This  course  of  repression  is  further  called  '  return- 
ing to  the  root ' — a  teaching  which  calls  attention 
to  the  tendency  on  the  part  of  all  forms  of  vegetable 
life  to  return  from  their  full-flowering  to  their 
original  condition.  '  This  returning  to  their  root 
is  what  we  call  the  state  of  stillness,'  says  Lao-tze, 
who  counsels  the  disciple  to  produce  this  state  to 
the  utmost  degree  (ib.  ch.  16).  The  man  of  Tao  is 
considered  'different  from  ordinary  men,  in  that 
he  has  so  repressed  his  desires  as  to  have  become 
infant-like  and  primeval.  "I  am  like  an  infant, 
which  has  not  yet  smiled,"  says  he.  The  mind  is 
that  of  a  stupid  man ;  I  am  in  a  state  of  chaos ' 
(ib.  ch.  20,  cf.  chs.  23,  28).  Inasmuch  as  '  the  Tao 
does  nothing  for  the  sake  of  doing  it,'  the  Taoist 
is  without  desire,  inactive,  and  simple  {ib.  ch.  37). 

Buddhism  treats  desire  in  its  major  rather  than 
its  minor  premiss,  by  discussing  it  in  '  The  Noble 
Truth  Concerning  Suffering '  (in  the  Mahavagga, 
tr.  Davids  and  Oldenberg,  Oxford,  1881,  i.  1). 
This  truth  is  fourfold.  It  is  based  upon  the 
individual's  attachment  to  life,  to  his  desire  for 
continued  existence  and  happiness ;  the  resulting 
suffering  is  removed  by  detachment  from  desire, 
the  way  of  which  lies  along  the  eightfold  path 
wherein  is  found  the  destruction  of  sorrow  (cf. 
'Dhamma  Kakka,'  tr.  Davids,  SBE  xi.  [1900], 
§§  5-8).  With  Buddhism,  desire  is  repudiated  be- 
cause it  leads  to  delusion,  and  he  who  would  find 
reality  must  detach  himself  from  objects  of  sense. 
See,  further,  the  next  article. 

Where  Hellenism  indulged  the  idea  of  desire  in 
the  enjoyment  of  life  and  the  elaboration  of  the 
beautiful,  it  did  not  fail  to  express  some  sense  of 
regret  for  life  in  the  world  of  sense.  Like  the 
Cynics  before  them,  the  Stoics  set  themselves 
against  desire  and  extolled  a  rigorous  course  of 
conduct,  the  spirit  of  which  was  dwdBeia,  or 
cultivated  indifference.  Such  in  general  was  the 
attitude  of  the  opposite  school  of  Epicurus,  who 
praised  drapa|£a,  or  passive  pleasure,  as  the  highest 
moral  condition  (Diog.  Laert.  x.  136).  Where 
Erdmann  (Hist.  Philos.  tr.  Hough,  1898,  §  97,  4) 
seeks  to  identify  these  ideals,  Windelband  (Hist. 
Philos.  tr.  Cushman,  New  York,  1906,  §  47)  believes 
the  likeness  to  be  but  superficial.  The  former  is 
the  virtue  of  ethical  indifference  to  all  passions ; 
the  latter  is  passionlessness  which  is  based  upon 
the  perfect  satisfaction  of  all  desire.  On  this 
account,  it  was  looked  upon,  by  both  Epicureans 
and  Cynics,  as  acquired  only  through  a  limitation 
of  desire  (ib.).  It  was  in  this  spirit  that  Horace 
wrote  his  famous  epistle  beginning  '  Nil  admirari 
prope  res  est  una'  (Ep.  I.  vi.),  while  Seneca 
expressed  the  same  apathetic  sentiment  in  his 
'  sine  admiratione '  (de  Vita  Beata,  iii.  3).  In 
dealing  with  desire  and  aversion,  Epictetus  adopts 
the  same  attitude,  counselling  man  to  cease  desiring 
things  beyond  his  power  (iii.  24).  Marcus  Aurelius 
rehabilitates  Horace's  '  nil  admirari '  with  his  own 
adai/iaa-Tor,  whereby,  like  Maximus  his  master,  he 
ceased  to  wonder  at  anything  (L  15).  See  also  the 
'  Greek '  article,  below. 

While  Christianity  does  not  attack  desire  upon 
the  same  cosmologicab  grounds  as  Taoism,  Buddh- 
ism, and  Stoicism,  it  does  not  fail  to  relate  the 
function  of  desire,  which  it  condemns,  to  the  world, 
which  it  repudiates.  In  the  great  value-judgment 
of  the  Gospels,  '  What  doth  it  profit  a  man,  to  gain 
the  whole  world,  and  forfeit  his  life?'  (Mk  8s8),  the 


principle  at  work  is  that  of  detachment  from  the 
world.  On  the  psychological  side,  this  is  expressed 
in  terms  of  will,  where  it  is  declared,  '  Whosoever 
would  save  his  life  shall  lose  it '  (St  yap  (dv  di\n  ti\v 
eavTov  if/vxty  owat  airoXia-ei  air-qv  [Mk  835]).  But, 
with  more  direct  reference  to  desire,  ItndvpXa,  it 
may  be  said  that,  when  the  NT  writers  assume  an 
attitude  towards  it,  this  is  always  a  deprecating 
one,  for  it  is  looked  upon  as  equivalent  to  lust. 
This  was  the  view  of  Christ  in  His  comment  upon 
the  Seventh  Commandment — ttSs  6  (S\4irav  yvva?Ka 
irp&s  rd  4iri8v/j.i)aai.  (Mt  520).  St.  Paul  connects 
desire  with  passion,  and  likens  the  desiring  mood 
to  the  habitsof  the  Gentiles,  ir&dos  iiri.t)vp:Las(l  Th46) ; 
St.  Peter  speaks  of  the  believer  as  one  who  has 
escaped  the  corruption  in  the  world  through 
desire — 4t>  rip  K&apup  eV  iiriBvpla  (2  P  l4) ;  and  St. 
James  speaks  of  the  tempted  man  as  one  who  is 
drawn  away  by  his  own  desire — virb  ttjs  ioias  iiri.Bvp.ias 
(Ja  l14).  St.  John  relates  these  forms  of  the  mind 
to  the  world,  and  thus  tends  to  give  a  dialectic  of 
desire.  In  this  way,  the  content  of  the  world  is 
likened  to  desire  m  both  a  sensuous  and  an 
intellectual  form  :  irav  to  in  r<p  ado-pup,  i)  iiri@vp.la  t?/5 
trapicos  Kal  T)  iin6vp.ta  twv  6cpda\p.G>v  (1  Jn  216) ;  the 
lust  of  the  flesh  and  the  eyes  is  thus  repudiated  by 
Christianity,  which  aims  at  detaching  the  ego  from 
the  immediate  world,  that  it  may  find  its  true 
place  in  the  world  of  spiritual  life.  This  doctrine 
of  detachment  from  life  is  now  under  discussion  in 
religious  circles  where  Mysticism  prevails. 

While  current  thought  accepts  desire  as  a  fact 
of  experience  and  develops  it  according  to  ethics, 
religion,  like  art,  refuses  to  take  it  for  granted 
and  tends  to  repudiate  it  altogether.  Such  a 
tendency  appears  in  Wagner's  view  of  religion  (cf. 
above)  ;  in  Tolstoi's  conception  of  Christianity,  as 
developed  in  My  Religion  (tr.  H.  Smith,  New 
York,  1885),  where  asceticism  mingles  with  sym- 
pathism ;  in  Villiers  de  LTsle-Adam,  whose  Axel 
(Paris,  1890)  involves  'the  rejection  of  life  at  the 
moment  when  life  becomes  ideal'  (J.  Huneker, 
Iconoclasts,  New  York,  1908,  p.  357);  and  in 
Ernest  Hello,  who  attacks  desire  under  its  armour 
of  the  pride  of  life  (cf.  L' Homme3,  Paris,  1894, 
Le  Siicle,  do.  1896).  More  after  the  Russian 
manner,  J.  K.  Huysmans,  who  passed  from  the 
sensual  to  the  spiritual,  has  revealed  an  august 
world-withdrawal  whose  path  is  indicated  in  En 
Route  (Paris,  1895),  while  its  result  is  elaborated 
in  La  Cath&drale  (Paris,  1898),  where  Durtal,  the 
hero,  cloistered  at  Chartres,  glorifies  the  inner  life, 
'la  vie  contemplative,'  which  he  contrasts  with 
'  la  vie  active '  (op.  cit.  28,  ch.  v.  p.  125,  ch.  xi.  p. 
330).  Huysmans,  who  mentions  Hello  (ib.  ch.  vi. 
p.  138),  reveals  the  same  combination  of  Catholi- 
cism and  Mysticism  that  guided  the  former  to  his 
striking  attitude  towards  human  desire.  The 
economic  interest,  which  to-day  predominates, 
tends  to  forbid  the  artistic  disinterestedness  and 
religious  renunciation  which  seek  to  neutralize 
desire,  so  that  the  present  age  might  well  be  called 
the  age  of  desire. 

Literature. — J.  M.  Baldwin,  Handbook  of  Psychology  2, 
New  York,  1S94,  ch.  xiv.  2,  '  Feeling  and  Will' ;  Fr.  Brentano, 
Psychol,  vom  empir.  Standpunkl,  Leipzig,  1874 ;  Chr.  v. 
Ehrenfels,  Syst.  der  Wertthebrie,  i.  'Psychol,  des  Begehrens,' 
do.  1897 ;  F.  Krueger,  Der  Begriff  des  absolut  Wertvollen, 
do.  1898;  G.  T.  Ladd,  Psychol.  Descriptive  and  Explanatory*, 
New  York,  1903;  A.  Meinong,  Psychot.-eth.  Vntersuchungen 
zur  Werth-Theorie,  Graz,  1894 ;  J.  Sully,  The  Human  Mind, 
London,  1892,  ch.  xvii. ;  J.  Iverach,  art.  '  Desire,'  in  DCG. 

Charles  Gray  Shaw. 
DESIRE  (Buddhist). — There  is  no  more  inti- 
mate, more  radical  self-expression  of  the  conscious 
individual  than  that  which  is  conveyed  by  the  term 
'  desire. '  It  is  the  one  genuine  subjective  register  of 
character.  A  man  is  known  by  his  works,  but  he 
knows  himself  by  his  desires.  When  these  emerge, 
if  they  do  emerge,  in  action,  external  limitations 


DESIRE  (Buddhist) 


6C7 


of  environment  and  opportunity  permit  only  a  dis- 
torted output  of  the  ideal  act,  which  had  taken 
shape  in  the  creative  flame  of  desire.  Religion 
and  ethics  are  therefore  deeply  concerned  with 
desire.  A  fortiori,  whether  Buddhism  is  con- 
sidered to  be  religion,  or  ethics,  or  both,  desire 
should  bulk  very  largely  in  its  doctrines,  and  the 
attitude  of  those  doctrines  towards  it  should  be 
held  crucial  in  our  judgments  respecting  them. 
Buddhism  faces  the  phenomenon  of  desire  as 
frankly  and  as  critically  as  other  systems,  and 
perhaps  even  more  so ;  and  this  is  because  it  is 
essentially  psychological,  and  does  not  start  from 
the  external  universe  and  its  first  or  final  cause, 
but  with  the  heart  of  man. 

Discounting  the  remoter  and  immaterial  planes 
of  existence  (rupa-loka  and  arupa-loka),  the  world 
of  earth,  with  its  purgatories  and  its  nearer  heavens, 
is,  by  Buddhism,  conceived  and  named  in  terms  of 
desire.  It  is  kamd-vachara,  the  sphere  of  kdma, 
i.e.  desire  understood  simply  as  wishing  for  what 
is  pleasant ;  and  kama-loka,  '  world  of  desire ' — 
kdma,  according  to  the  commentators,  includes 
both  desiring  (kdmetlli  kdmo)  and  that  which  is 
desired  (kdmiyatiti  kdmo).  Now,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected, in  Buddhist  philosophical  treatises  the 
universality  of  desire  is  dealt  with  as  a  natural 
phenomenon,  and  is  neither  praised  nor  condemned, 
while,  with  respect  to  the  life  of  laymen,  kdma, 
that  is,  natural  desires  and  the  enjoyment  thereof, 
is  not,  as  such,  condemned.  In  the  oldest  narra- 
tive of  the  birth  of  the  Buddha  (Dlgha-Nikdya, 
ii.  13;  Majjhima-Nikaya,  iii.  121),  it  is  written 
that  his  mother,  a  lady  of  pure  and  virtuous  life, 
was  living  before  his  birth  in  the  enjoyment  of  the 
five  modes  of  sense-desire  (pailcha  kdmaguna,  i.e. 
of  sights,  sounds,  odours,  tastes,  and  contacts,! 
Again,  in  theSingdlovada-suttanta{Digha,iu.  180ff. , 
called  by  R.  Childers  'The  Whole  Duty  of  the 
Buddhist  Layman'),  the  Buddha  does  not  warn 
the  young  layman  off  a  single  form  of  natural 
desire  or  enjoyment,  but  only  against  vicious  or 
wanton  desires.  For  those  who  had  left  the  world 
and  devoted  their  lives  to  holiness  and  mission- 
ary work,  the  case  was  different.  The  kdmas 
were  for  them  constant  sources  of  danger,  and 
were  likened  to  burning  coals,  knives,  snakes,  dry 
bones,  dreams,  and  other  perilous  and  disappointing 
objects  ('Psalms  of  the  Sisters'  [Therigathd],  Lon- 
don, 1909,  p.  144  f.).  They  belonged  to  the  pursuit 
of  sensuous  pleasures  and  the  life  of  the  world. 
An  abdicating  king  might  say :  '  I  have  enjoyed 
human  kdmas ;  it  is  time  to  seek  after  celestial 
kdmas'  {Digha,  iii.  60).  But,  for  one  who  was  aim- 
ing at  the  highest  goal,  there  was  really  nothing 
to  choose  between  either  human  or  celestial  desires 
and  objects  of  desire.  The  word  kdma  was  dropped 
from  his  vocabulary.  But  he  did  not  therefore 
cease  to  desire,  for,  though  his  quo  vadis  was 
different,  he  aspired  to  a  goal  none  the  less,  and, 
if  he  obeyed  the  injunctions  of  his  Order  preserved 
in  its  scriptures,  he  pursued  this  end  with  greater 
ardour  and  singleness  of  purpose  than  he  had  ever 
felt  over  worldly  objects. 

If,  in  the  earliest  version  of  those  scriptures  sur- 
viving, viz.  the  Pali  Pitakas,  natural  desire  and 
its  objects — in  a  word,  the  kdmas — are  usually 
mentioned  in  terms  of  depreciation,  it  must  be 
remembered  (1)  that  the  Pitakas  were  compiled  by 
religieux,  and  that  the  greater  part  of  the  Suttas 
are  discourses  addressed  to  religieux  ;  and  (2)  that 
Buddhism  started  as  an  evangel  of  protest,  reform, 
and  regeneration  against  worldliness  and  super- 
stition, and  evangels  do  not  compromise.  But  it 
is  characteristic  of  this  gospel  that  it  does  not 
seek  to  quench  earthly  desires  (manussaka  kamd) 
by  heavenly  desires  (dibba  kdma). 

In  the  first  place,  the  summum  bonum  of  arhat- 


ship,  of  complete  emancipation  of  heart  and  mind, 
could  be  won  only  in  this  earthly  region  of  the 
kdma-loka,  with  the  single  exception  of  the  re- 
motest sphere  of  the  arupa-loka,  where  it  was 
believed  that  some  mortals  attained  parinibbdna , 
i.e.  completion  of  perfected  life  and  final  death, 
who  here,  on  their  way  to  perfection,  had  not 
lived  to  touch  the  highest  '  Path  and  Fruit '  (e.g. 
Digha,  ii.  200 ;  Samyutta,  v.  346,  etc. ) ;  yet  this 
parinibbdna  is  never  recorded  as  a  climax  and 
glorious  consummation,  but  rather  as  an  epilogue 
to  the  life  here  below  of  those  who,  in  a  '  world 
of  desire,'  and  in  virtue  of  unworldly  desire,  had 
attained  to  the  assurance  of  victory  in  spiritual 
evolution  (nibbdna). 

Secondly,  whereas  the  Buddhist  Dhamma  is 
essentially  a  method  for  diverting  and  transform- 
ing the  natural  phenomenon  of  desire,  it  held  up, 
before  those  whose  quest  was  for  the  highest,  no 
supramundane  place  as  the  proper  object  of  desire, 
nor  before  any  one  did  it  hold  up  a  super- 
human being  or  person  in  that  light.  It  is  true 
that  re-birth  in  'heaven'  is  frequently  proclaimed 
as  the  natural  inevitable  result  of  virtue  in  this 
life — this  to  laymen  and  to  those  of  the  Order  who 
were  spiritually  babes.  But  it  is  virtue  and  good- 
ness that  are  shown  as  desirable,  rather  than  pro- 
motion hereafter,  in  the  reconstituted  life.  Those 
who  were  judged  as  ripening  to  perfect  emancipa- 
tion aimed  only  at  an  impersonal  goal,  having 
no  relation  to  time  or  space  (Milinda,  ii.  105, 
186),  but  regarded,  positively,  as  a  blissful  con- 
sciousness of  salvation,  liberty,  mastery,  insight, 
and  peace  (C.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids,  Psalms  of  the 
Early  Buddhists,  vol.  i.  p.  xxxvii). 

At  the  opposite  extreme  of  these  aspirations, 
which  might  be  called  the  vis  afronte,  Buddhism 
places,  as  the  driving  power  a  tergo,  the  world's 
great  burden  of  ill,  as  fed  by  the  constant  work- 
ing of  unregenerate  and  uncontrolled  desire,  called 
'thirst'  or  'craving'  {tanhd,  Skr.  trsna).  This 
religio-philosophical  term  is  another  illustration  of 
the  immense  significance  of  the  vital  phenomenon 
of  desire  in  the  Buddhist  consciousness ;  and  its 
scope  embraces  the  whole  of  human  desires,  in  so 
far  as  these  are  attracted  by  life  itself,  or  by  the 
idea  of  its  extinction.  There  are  three  modes  or 
channels  of  tanhd  :  kdma-tanhd,  desire  for  what  is 
sensuously  pleasant ;  bhava-tanhd,  desire  for  be- 
coming or  life  hereafter ;  and  vib/utva-tanhd,  de- 
sire for  the  extinction  of  becoming.  Tanhd  in 
general  is  defined  as  '  concerned  with  repeated 
becoming' (lit.  '  re-birth-ic,'  punobbhavikd),  'asso- 
ciated with  pleasure  and  passion '  (nandi-rdga- 
sahagata),  and  '  delighting  in  various  objects ' 
(tatra-tatrabhinandini  [  Vibh.  101,  365  ;  Samyutta, 
iii.  26]).  It  was  only  when  set  on  '  the  Paths,  the 
Fruits,  Nibbdna,'  that  the  desire,  which  had  been 
called  tanhd,  became  the  aspiration  and  the  purpose 
called  sammd-sahkappa  and  dhamma -chhanda. 
'  For,  as  there  is  no  inducement,'  writes  the  com- 
mentator (Attha-sdlini,  347),  'to  a  mosquito  to 
alight  on  a  ball  of  iron  heated  in  the  sun,  so  these 
[goals]  by  their  radiant  glory  do  not  attract  tanhd.' 

The  person  of  the  Buddha,  however,  as  an  object 
of  desire,  lent  warmth  and  colour  to  aspirations 
after  impersonal  goals.  Not  once  only  in  the 
world's  history,  but  from  time  to  time  through 
cycles  of  involution  and  evolution,  do  Buddhists 
hold  that  mankind  may  hope  for  a  day  when  '  the 
desire  of  all  nations  shall  come,'  who  will  in  love 
and  wisdom  satisfy  their  yearnings.  The  condi- 
tions and  order  of  his  advent  are  considered  by 
the  canonical  books  in  the  light  of  a  natural  law. 
Buddha-epochs  were  not  equidistant  in  time,  but 
they  happened  when,  amid  an  ignorant  and  erring 
majority,  there  were  some  who  would  understand 
the  message  of  salvation. 


668 


DESIRE  (Greek) 


•  As  on  a  craw,  on  crest  of  mountain  standing, 

A  man  might  watch  the  people  far  below, 
E'en  so  do  Thou,  O  Wisdom  fair,  ascending, 

O  Seer  of  all,  the  terraced  heights  of  truth, 
Look  down,  from  grief  released,  upon  the  nations 

Sunken  in  grief,  oppressed  with  birth  and  age. 
Arise,  thou  hero  1    Conqueror  in  the  battle  ! 

Thou  freed  from  debt  1    Lord  of  the  pilgrim-band, 
Walk  the  world  o'er,  sublime  and  blessed  Teacher  ! 

Teach  us  the  Truth — there  are  who'll  understand  ' 

(Dialogues,  ii.  32  ;  Vin.  Texts,  i.  86  f-X 

The  faith  and  devotion  evoked  hy  the  person  of 
the  Buddha  and  by  the  nature  of  his  doctrine  are 
also  usually  described  in  terms  of  satisfied  desire, 
namely,  pasdda,  pasanna,  the  passages  being  too 
numerous  to  quote  (but  cf.  Sarhyutta,  v.  381,  with 
Buddhist  Psychological  Ethics,  174  n.).  Never- 
theless, the  desire  itself  for  a  Buddha,  and  for  the 
salvation  he  should  bring,  is  expressed  in  terms  of 
altruistic  desire  for  the  good  and  happiness  of  all 
men.  It  is  '  out  of  compassion  for  all  creatures, 
for  the  advantage  and  the  welfare  and  the  happi- 
ness of  gods  and  men,'  that  a  Buddha  arises, 
1  Who  from  all  ill  and  sorrow  hast  released 
Me  and  so  many  many  stricken  folk  ' 

(Therigathd,  157 ;  cf.  Dialogues,  ii.  Ill ;  JRAS,  1906,  p.  241). 
Mediately  therefore,  in  the  desire  for  the  Buddha, 
the  impersonal  desire  for  universal  good,  as  well  as 
the  desire  for  personal  salvation,  finds  expression. 

For  those  who,  as  converts,  were  sufficiently  won 
by  the  Dhamma  to  devote  their  lives  to  it,  a  career 
of  mental  and  moral  training  was  prescribed,  which, 
judging  by  the  terms  employed,  called  into  exer- 
cise the  emotional  and  volitional,  no  less  than  the 
intellectual,  faculties.  The  exercises  might  be  in 
the  expansion  of  a  concept  or  sentiment — suffusion, 
irradiation  (pharand),  they  called  it — or  in  concen- 
tration of  attention  and  will  (samddhi,  jhdna,  etc.), 
or  in  control  of  consciousness,  recollection,  self- 
collectedness  (sati-sampajanna),  and  so  on.  In  no 
case,  however,  was  the  training  to  be  carried  on 
with  cool  impassivity,  except  in  certain  advanced 
stages.  The  sincere  student  is  constantly  described 
as  being  aglow  or  ardent  (dtdpi),  strenuous  or 
earnest  (appamatta),  full  of  energy  and  endeavour 
(viriya,  vdydma,  ussolhi),  and  tilled  with  eager 
active  desire  (tibbachhanda) ;  but  the  emotional 
side  of  consciousness  is  not  encouraged,  except  in 
intimate  connexion  with  the  conative  or  volitional. 
The  term  chhanda,  for  instance,  which  is  as  un- 
moral as  our  own  'desire,'  but  which,  like  'desire,' 
is  sometimes  used  with  a  sensual  or  passional  im- 
port, is  more  allied  to  will  than  kdma  is,  and  is 
explained  by  commentaries  as  meaning  kattu- 
kamyatd,  'desire-to-do.'  Few  subjects,  indeed, 
are  of  greater  interest  in  Buddhist  culture  than 
this  evolution  of  chhanda.  For  instance,  dukkha, 
the  generic  term  for  '  ill,'  '  misery,'  or  '  pain,'  is 
said  to  be  '  rooted '  in  chhanda  (Samyutta,  lv.  328), 
as,  indeed,  are  '  all  states  of  consciousness '  (Ahgut- 
tara,  iv.  S39).  On  one  occasion  the  end  of  the 
Buddha's  system  of  holy  living  is  called  the 
removal  of  desire  (chhanda-pahdna  [Samyutta, 
v.  272]).  Yet  this  is  stated  to  be  accomplished 
by  certain  exercises  in  which  chhanda  is  called 
into  play.  '  What  then,'  is  an  inquirer's  comment, 
'  would  you  put  away  desire  by  desire?'  And  the 
Thera  replies  to  the  Brahman :  '  Was  there  not 
desire,  effort,  thought,  deliberation  in  your  mind, 
when  you  set  out  to  find  me  in  this  garden  ?  And 
now  that  you  have  found  me,  is  not  all  that 
abated  ? '  Again,  a  homely  simile  of  the  ass  who 
does  not  make  himself  into  a  valued  cow  by  walk- 
ing after  the  herd  saying  '  I,  too,  can  bellow,' 
serves  to  show  that  the  criterion  of  a  genuine 
student  is  his  displaying  eager  active  desire  (tib- 
bachhanda) for  the  highest  virtues  and  the  most 
advanced  mental  development  (Ahguttara,  i._229). 
Finally,  the  Buddha  is  represented  in  the  Akah- 
kheyya-Sutta  as  showing  how  seventeen  pious  ways 
in  which  a  bhikkhu  '  might  desire '  (dkankheyya) 


may  severally  be  satisfied  ('Buddhist  Suttas,'  SBE 
xi.  210  ff.). 

Hence  in  Buddhist  ethics,  desire  is,  as  such,  not 
only  not  immoral,  but  an  indispensable  instrument 
for  attaining  higher  (no  less  than  meaner)  ends  ;  it 
becomes  a  source  of  danger  only  when  the  object 
of  desire  is  such  as  to  give  no  lasting  satisfaction 
to  desire  when  it  is  attained. 

And  hence  it  is  strictly  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  the  older  writings,  if  with  an  added  tinge 
of  intense  emotion,  when  the  author  of  the  Milinda 
Questions  declares  that  Nibbdna  is  to  be  realized . 
not  by  quiescent  meditation,  or  in  hypnotic  trance, 
much  less  by  mortification  of  desire,  but  by  rational 
discontent,  strong  anguish,  and  longing,  followed 
by  a  forward  leap  of  the  mind  into  peace  and  calm, 
then  again  by  a  vibrating  zeal,  in  which  the  aspir- 
ant '  strives  with  might  and  main  along  the  path , ' 
and  so  on. 

It  had  been  the  fate  of  Buddhism,  before  the 
authorities  quoted  above  became  accessible,  to  be- 
come for  the  general  English  reader  synonymous 
not  only  with  pessimism  but  with  the  '  extinction 
of  desire.'  And  the  error  still  persists.  This  is 
largely  due  to  the  fact  that  the  earliest  trans- 
lators of  the  canonical  works  of  Buddhism  were 
not  English,  or,  if  English,  were  lacking  in  psycho- 
logical training.  The  anthologies  of  the  Dhamma 
and  Sutta-Nipata  were  rendered  into  English  prose 
by  those  veteran  Indologists,  Max  Muller  and 
Fausboll,  and  between  them  they  render  no  fewer 
than  sixteen  Pali  words,  which  really  mean  sensu- 
ous, or  vicious,  or  unregulated  desire,  by  the  one 
unqualified  word  'desire.'  St.  Hilaire,  Burnouf, 
and  Foucaux  do  much  the  same  disservice  with 
the  one  over-worked  word  desir.  Warren  (Bud- 
dhism in  Translations,  Camb.  Mass.,  1896)  is  no 
better;  yet  see  his  Index,  s.v.  'Desire'  (' desire  = 
lust').  This  slovenly  usage  partly  justifies  writers 
of  more  general  and  comparative  treatises  in  arriv- 
ing at  sweeping  but  erroneous  conclusions  (e.g. 
Crozier  in  Hist,  of  Intellectual  Development, 
London,  1897-1901).  But  it  were  undesirable  to 
impoverish  our  ethical  and  religious  concepts  by 
mairing  over  to  such  terms  as  tanhd  all  the  moral 
as  well  as  the  immoral  implications  in  desire. 
After  all,  it  was  in  response  to  a  desire,  a  yearn- 
ing, an  impulse,  a  resolution,  that  the  founder  of 
Buddhism  is  represented  as  having  renounced  the 
world  and  dedicated  his  life  to  the  service  of  his 
fellow-men.     See  also  art.  LOVE  (Buddhist). 

Literature. — C.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids,  '  On  the  Will  in  Bud- 
dhism,' JRAS,  Jan.  1898,  and  Buddhist  Psychological  Ethics, 
London,  1900 ;  C.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids  and  S.  Z.  Aung-,  Com- 
pendium of  Philosophy,  1910,  p.  244,  n.  2  ;  T.  W.  Rhys  Davids, 
'  Buddhist  Suttas,'  SBE  xi.  [1900],  210  ff.,  and  '  Questions  of  King 
Milinda,'  ib.  xxxvi.  [1894],  199  ff.  The  Nikdyas  are  all  published 
by  the  Pali  Text  Society,  London ;  references  are  to  volume 
and  page.  The  Digha-  and  Majjhima-Nikdyas  are  in  process 
of  being  translated  as  Dialogues  of  the  Buddha  (London), 
by  T.  W.  and  O.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids,  and  the  evolution  of  desire 
among  Buddhist  saints  may  be  studied  in  the  latter's  Psalms 
of  the  Early  Buddhists,  London,  1909, 1912. 

C.  A.  F.  Khys  Davids. 
DESIRE  (Greek).— i.  Socrates  and  the  pre- 
Socratics. — The  beginning  of  ethical  investigation 
in  ancient  Greece  is  usually  assigned  to  Socrates. 
And,  no  doubt,  Socrates  did  in  a  special  manner 
direct  men's  attention  to  ethical  principles  and 
concepts,  and  give  the  impulse  to  the  further  study 
and  elaboration  of  the  philosophy  of  morals.  He 
it  was  also  who,  by  his  rigorous  insistence  on  self- 
control  (iyKpireta)  as  the  supreme  virtue,  gave 
special  prominence  to  the  twofold  nature  of  man — 
a  higher  and  a  lower  nature,  with  the  tendency  on 
the  part  of  the  lower  (the  desires)  to  usurp  the 
mastery ;  thereby  initiating  a  point  of  view  that 
was  to  dominate  Greek  philosophy  henceforth, 
definitely  formulated  for  all  time  by  Plato.  More- 
over,  he   himself  could   'scorn  delights  and  live 


DESIRE  (Greek) 


669 


laborious  days '  better  than  any  man  of  his  time, 
so  that  he  could  not  only  teach  robust  ethical 
doctrine  by  precept,  but  show  it  also  by  example. 
But,  long  before  the  time  of  Socrates,  the  subject 
of  desire  had  thrust  itself  upon  men's  notice,  and 
from  of  old  precepts  had  been  enunciated  for  the 
practical  regulation  of  life,  even  though  it  were 
only  from  the  prudential  standpoint  of  Hesiod  (see 
his  Worlcs  and  Days),  the  Gnomic  poets,  and  the 
Seven  Wise  Men.  This  explains  the  existence  of 
Orphism  and  Pythagoreanism,  which — religious 
more  than  philosophical — had  the  highest  welfare 
of  the  individual  at  heart,  and  organized  a  system, 
distinctly  mystical,  for  the  purification  of  the  soul 
and  the  cultivation  of  the  higher  life.  This  was 
avowedly  ethical  in  its  character,  and,  being 
cathartic,  had  the  subjugation  of  the  desires  and 
the  development  of  the  spiritual  nature  as  the 
basal  principle.  But,  apart  altogether  from  the 
poets  and  the  moralists  and  the  mystics,  the  pre- 
Socratic  philosophers,  who  are  usually  represented 
simply  as  devotees  of  physics  and  physical  specula- 
tion, were,  many  of  them,  also  ethicists ;  and  the 
ethical  teaching  of  Heraclitus  of  Ephesus,  in  par- 
ticular, and  of  Democritus  of  Abdera,  forms  an 
interesting  side  of  their  philosophy.  Sir  Alexander 
Grant  does  them  less  than  justice  when  he  says  : 

'  The  moral  doctrines  of  these  early  philosophers  .  .  .  seem  to 
belong  rather  to  the  personal  character  of  the  men  than  to  the 
result  of  their  systems'  (Ethics  of  Aristotle,  i.  103). 

Nevertheless,  the  great  impulse  to  ethical  analysis 
and  ethical  thinking  came  from  Socrates  :  an  epoch 
in  Greek  philosophy  was  marked  when,  under  the 
sanction  of  the  god  at  Delphi,  he  insisted  in  the 
way  that  he  did  on  the  principle  '  Know  thyself ' 
(yvQBi  o-eavrbv) ;  and  the  question  of  desire  found 
its  first  impressive  handling  in  his  greatest  disciple 
Plato,  in  the  true  Socratic  spirit. 

2.  Plato. — (1)  In  his  psychological  analysis  of 
human  nature,  Plato  regarded  the  soul  of  man  as 
consistingof  three  parts — the  rational  (to  \oytcm.K6v), 
the  fiery  or  spirited  (rd  Bv/ioeidts),  and  the  appetitive 
(to  4Tri6v//.7rru<6v). 

There  is  a  great  temptation  to  interpret,  this  as  an  anticipation 
or  foreshadowing  of  the  modern  psychological  threefold  division 
of  mental  processes  into  intellection,  feeling,  and  conation  or 
volition.  But,  when  we  remember  that  each  soul,  according  to 
Plato,  had  its  own  distinct  habitation  in  the  body — the  rational 
soul  being  situated  in  the  head  or  cranium,  the  spirited  soul  in 
the  breast  or  thorax,  and  the  appetitive  soul  in  the  belly,  below 
the  diaphragm — and  when  we  remember,  further,  that  the  three 
souls  are  represented  as  having  their  counterparts  in  the  Ideal 
Republic — the  first  being  embodied  in  the  philosophical  guardians 
of  the  State,  the  second  in  the  soldiers,  and  the  third  in  the 
artisans  and  husbandmen — we  see  that  the  Platonic  psychology 
is  a  good  way  removed  from  anything  to  be  found  in  the 
psychologies  of  the  present  day. 

Between  the  three  souls,  or  three  parts  of  the 
soul,  there  is  a  distinction  of  native  authority  or 
value.  The  rational  soul,  being  immortal,  is 
naturally  supreme,  placed  where  it  is  in  the  body 
(viz.  in  the  commanding  position  of  the  head)  in 
order  to  guide  and  control  the  others.  The  spirited 
or  courageous  soul  is  the  seat  of  ambition,  honour, 
and  the  like,  and  is  indispensable  for  high  achieve- 
ment in  any  sphere,  and  is  by  nature  ancillary  to 
reason,  though,  on  occasion,  itmay  require  restraint. 
But  the  third  soul  is  that  which  needs  careful 
watching  and  curbing — viz.  the  appetitive  or  lust- 
ful soul,  the  seat  of  desire,  of  inordinate  passion, 
and,  therefore,  pre-eminently  of  lawlessness  and 
insubordination.  This  is  the  '  black '  horse  of  the 
allegory  of  the  Charioteer  in  the  Phmdrus,  which 
requires  to  be  kept  in  by  bit  and  bridle,  and  to 
which  the  whip  has  to  be  unsparingly  applied  until 
it  is  subdued  and  tamed.  It  is  also  the  '  many- 
headed  monster '  of  Republic,  588  C.  From  the 
place  that  the  appetitive  soul  occupies  in  the  body 
(below  the  diaphragm),  it  is  in  close  proximity  to 
the  liver,  which  (according  to  Plato)  is  the  organ 
of  imagination,  issuing  oracles  in  dreams  and  acting 


as  a  mirror  registering  the  wishes,  commands,  and 
reprobations  of  the  rational  soul,  thereby  en- 
couraging, warning,  and,  if  need  be,  terrifying  the 
recalcitrant  transgressor,  with  the  design  of  check- 
ing him  in  his  wayward  course. 

This  doctrine  of  desire  is  clearly  of  an  ethical 
character,  and  is  specially  suited  to  ethical  purpose. 
It  is  not  so  much  a  complete  logical  analysis  of  the 
notion,  or  even  a  systematic  psychological  ex- 
position of  the  subject,  as  a  suggestive  statement 
of  the  hierarchy  of  principles  in  human  nature  (for 
the  different  souls,  though  separated  locally  by 
Plato,  may  be  interpreted  in  that  way),  with  an 
appreciation  of  their  various  functions  and  a  grading 
of  them  according  to  worth.  It  is,  above  all,  an 
enforcement  of  the  truth  that,  for  the  highest 
health  and  welfare  of  the  individual,  the  desires 
must  be  strictly  and  rationally  controlled  :  it  is  of 
their  very  nature  to  tend  to  transgress  limits,  to 
usurp  authority ;  and  this,  if  unchecked,  means 
moral  shipwreck  and  disaster  (see  Appetite). 

In  Philebus,  however,  a  psychological  analysis 
of  desire  in  one  of  its  aspects  is  essayed — 
viz.  when  it  is  declared  to  presuppose  a  bodily 
want  that  has  been  gratified  and  the  memory  of 
the  gratification  comes  in  to  arouse  expectation  of 
future  gratification.  In  this,  two  salient  points  in 
the  phenomenon  are  clearly  noted  :  (a)  that,  until  a 
want  is  gratified,  we  experience  only  uneasiness, 
not  desire ;  and  (b)  that  desire  depends  upon 
memory  or  recollection. 

(2)  But  Plato's  doctrine  of  desire  goes  deeper 
than  this  :  it  penetrates  to  the  very  centre  of  man's 
being,  to  what  may  be  specifically  designated  his 
natural  spiritual  wants.  The  highest  form  of 
desire  is  represented  as  philosophical  Love  or  Eros, 
which  is  inseparably  connected  with  the  Platonic 
theory  of  Ideas  and  the  doctrine  of  Reminiscence 
(aii&fivrio-is).  The  object  of  this  kind  of  desire  is  set 
forth  in  the  Phcedrus  as  the  Beautiful,  as  Beauty 
Absolute,  the  super-celestial  Divine  essence,  which 
is  reached  by  the  individual  here  through  the 
mediation  of  the  perception  of  beauty  in  objects  of 
sense,  especially  in  the  beauty  of  bodily  form,  as 
seen  in  beautiful  youths ;  and,  in  the  Symposium 
(211  C),  the  mode  of  ascent  is  declared  by  Diotima 
to  be  as  follows  : 

'  To  begin  from  the  beauties  of  earth  and  mount  upwards  for 
the  sake  of  that  other  beauty,  using  these  as  steps  only,  and 
from  one  going  on  to  two,  and  from  two  to  all  fair  forms,  and 
from  fair  forms  to  fair  practices,  and  from  fair  practices  to  fair 
notions,  until  from  fair  notions  he  arrives  at  the  notion  of 
absolute  beauty,  and  at  last  knows  what  the  essence  of  beauty 
is.  This,  my  dear  Socrates,  said  the  stranger  of  Mantineia,  is 
that  life  above  all  others  which  man  should  live,  in  the  con- 
templation of  beauty  absolute.' 

In  the  Republic  it  is  set  forth  as  the  Good,  which 
is  the  supreme  transcendent  Idea,  permeating  being, 
and  giving  meaning  to  intelligibles  and  opinables 
alike  in  the  realm  of  Knowledge.  In  the  Timceus, 
the  Good  is  identified  with  God  ;  and,  as  '  likeness 
to  God'  (6/j.olwcris  6«jj)  is  the  chief  end  of  man, 
according  to  Themtetus,  the  ultimate  object  of 
man's  highest  desire  is  the  Deity.  Nor  is  '  the 
Deity '  a  mere  abstract  term  to  Plato  ;  it  expresses 
the  ideal  of  holiness,  as  well  as  of  knowledge  or 
contemplation ;  so  that,  in  the  assimilation  of  the 
Divine  by  man,  character  no  less  than  intellect  is 
involved.  But,  in  order  to  become  conformed  to 
the  great  Ideal,  the  soul  needs  to  be  purified,  and 
purification  is  a  thing  of  degrees,  so  that  K&8ap<ns 
becomes  the  leading  note,  and  Kddapais  '  effected  by 
personal  effort  in  a  Cosmos  governed  by  God' — a 
doctrine  which  is,  as  J.  A.  Stewart  expresses  it 
(The  Myths  of  Plato,  p.  352),  'the  great  contri- 
bution made  by  Plato  to  the  religious  thought  and 
practice  of  Europe.'  Hence,  in  Protagoras  (349, 
359 A),  'holiness'  (60-167-175)  is  added  to  the  four 
cardinal  virtues ;  Socrates  in  Xenophon  called  it 
'piety'  (eiWjSeta).      With   this   is   specially  to    1." 


670 


DESIRE  (Greek) 


associated  the  Platonic  eschatology  (for  purification 
does  not  cease  at  a  man's  death),  where  the  soul  is 
represented  as  finally  purified  through  a  series  of 
metempsychoses — as  seen,  for  instance,  in  the  He- 
public,  in  the  myth  of  Er,  the  son  of  Armenius, 
and  in  the  doctrine  of  Eros,  with  its  essentially 
elevating  and  purificatory  character,  as  described 
in  the  Phazdrus  myth. 

(3)  In  line  with  this  is  Plato's  proof  of  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul  (see  Phcedo  and  Symposium), 
drawn  from  men's  universal  longing  or  desire  for 
continued  existence  and  for  the  everlasting  pos- 
session of  the  Good — a  proof  that  became  popular 
in  Western  Christendom  through  St.  Augustine's 
acceptance  of  it,  and  which  finds  its  poetical  ex- 
pression in  English  in  Addison's  '  Cato '  and  in 
Tennyson's  'The  Two  Voices.'  The  argument  here 
is  that  the  soul  continues  to  live  hereafter  because 
men  everywhere  cling  to  life  '  together  with  good ' 
and  shrink  from  death ;  the  presupposition  being 
that  whatever  crops  up  as  a  general  craving  among 
mankind  indicates  a  natural  want  of  man  and  has 
its  truth  thereby  established.  With  this  may  be 
joined  an  attractive  Platonic  thought  regarding 
the  future  life  and  men's  desire  of  knowledge  and 
of  virtue.  In  Cratylus  (403,  404)  the  dead  are 
represented  as  continuing  in  willing  subjection  to 
Hades,  the  god  of  Death,  because  of  their  thirst 
for  knowledge  and  their  desire  of  being  made 
better.  They  find  that  with  Hades  is  true  Wisdom 
— he  has  experience  and  is  the  great  Philosopher  ; 
and,  as  his  wisdom  charms  them,  and  as  association 
with  himself  betters  them,  they  cling  to  him  as 
disciples  to  a  master.  Thus  desire  is  seen  to  be  a 
stronger  bond  than  necessity :  necessity  coerces, 
desire  constrains. 

3.  Aristotle. — (1)  In  the  analysis  of  desire  as 
given  in  de  Aniraa,  Aristotle  uses  the  term 
'  desire '  (opefis)  generically,  including  in  it,  as 
species,  spiritedness  or  passion  (flu/ios),  appetitive 
desire  (iiri.6vp.la),  and  wish  (f}ov\ri<ns).  Of  these 
three,  wish  (floi\ri<ns)  attaches  to  the  rational  part 
of  man,  and  the  other  two  to  the  irrational  (iii.  9. 
4326,  5).  When,  again,  he  enumerates  and  arranges 
in  due  order  the  functions  or  faculties  of  the  soul 
(vegetative,  sentient,  conative,  noetic — passive  and 
active),  there  is  one  function  that  he  specifies  as 
the  orectic  or  conative  faculty  (t6  6peKTii<6v),  which 
sometimes  he  brackets  along  with  the  sensitive 
faculty  (t6  alo-dr/Ti.Kdi'),  and  sometimes  gives  an 
independent  position  subsequent  to  it  (ii.  3.  414a, 
31) ;  but,  either  way,  he  bases  desire  on  sensation. 
With  regard  to  all  the  faculties  or  functions, 
however,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  inde- 
pendence ascribed  to  any  one  of  them  is  only 
relative :  each  has  its  place  in  a  graded  system 
arranged  in  the  order  of  implication,  the  higher 
presupposing  the  lower  (though  not  reversely) — 
'  the  earlier  form  always  exists  potentially  in  the 
later'  {de  An.  ii.  3.  4146,  29).  Aristotle  is  very 
insistent  on  the  unity  of  the  soul ;  so  that  the 
faculties  are  not  absolutely  separate,  as  if  each 
were  self-contained. 

But  it  is  in  the  Ethics,  in  connexion  with  will, 
that  we  have  Aristotle's  fullest  handling  of  desire  ; 
and,  putting  the  two  accounts  together,  we  obtain 
the  following  summary. 

Will  is  the  desire  (ope£<.s)  of  something  regarded 
as  a  good,  i.e.  as  bringing  satisfaction  or  pleasure 
to  the  person  desiring  it— which  is  what  Aristotle 
designates  jSotfXijcris.  But,  obviously,  if  there  is  an 
object  towards  which  desire  is  directed  and  upon 
which  it  is  set,  this  iniplies  an  ideal  or  conceptual 
element  in  the  process — some  notion  of  what  the 
object  desirable  and  desired  is :  in  other  words,  it 
involves  imagination  or  representation  (<pavTa<rla). 
Further,  inasmuch  as  between  desire  as  a  psychical 
state  and  the  attainment  of  its  object  there  is  an 


interval  of  time  interposed,  this  indicates  that 
there  is  need  of  means  for  the  realization  of  the 
desired  object,  and,  consequently,  need  of  de- 
liberation with  a  view  to  choice — especially  when 
more  than  one  set  of  means  appear  competent  to 
effect  the  end.  This  process  of  deliberation  in 
connexion  with  means,  and  having  reference  to 
'things  that  are  within  our  own  power'  (to.  £<j>  y/uv), 
Aristotle  calls  /3oii\eu<ri!.  When  deliberation  is 
completed,  choice  or  determination  ensues.  This 
is  irpoalpecns,  which  is  regarded  by  Aristotle  as  dis- 
tinctive of  man,  marking  him  off  from  the  lower 
animals.  In  choice  after  deliberation  6pe(is  again 
appears  ;  for  the  individual  identifies  himself  not 
only  with  the  end,  but  with  the  means  necessary 
to  effect  the  end.  Hence,  deliberate  choice  is  in- 
separably conjoined  with   desire,   and  is  termed 

fiovhevriKT)  6pei;LS. 

From  this  brief  analysis  it  is  evident  that  Aris- 
totle connects  desire  very  intimately  with  will ; 
maintaining,  indeed,  practically,  that  there  can  be 
no  will  without  desire.  Desire  is  the  moving 
power  in  the  whole  conative  process,  indispensable 
alike  to  its  origination  and  to  the  keeping  up  of 
the  interest  in  the  end  until  it  is  realized.  This 
active  or  movent  character  of  desire  marks  it  off 
from  emotion,  which  is  a  species  of  feeling  and  is 
subjective,  although  emotion  may  very  readily  ally 
itself  with  desire,  and  thereby  give  an  added  in- 
tensity or  vigour  to  it. 

(2)  It  is  evident,  further,  that,  according  to 
Aristotle,  in  the  determination  of  right  conduct 
(and  here  comes  in  the  ethical  bearing  of  the 
psychological  doctrine)  desire  and  reason  act  to- 
gether— neither  is  sufficient  by  itself.  Hence, 
trpoalpeins,  or  choice,  may  equally  well  be  described 
as  reason  motived  by  desire  (vom  &peKTw6s),  or  as 
desire  guided  by  understanding  (Spelts  oiapoTiTunj, 
Eth.  Nic.  vi.  2).  The  doctrine  of  '  the  practical 
syllogism '  brings  this  out  distinctly. 

This  Byllogisrn  is  denominated  '  practical '  for  two  reasons : 
first,  because  it  deals  with  men's  actions  (n-pa^eis),  not  with 
their  mere  thinking  or  reasoning  as  logically  correct ;  and, 
secondly,  because  it  attaches  to  the  practical  or  moral,  not  to 
the  theoretical,  reason.  Being  a  '  syllogism,*  however,  it  has  a 
specific  formal  character — it  is  expressible  as  conclusion,  and 
necessary  conclusion,  from  premisses,  although  it  is  not  main- 
tained that  moral  actions,  in  the  case  of  'the  plain  man,'  are 
always  consciously  thus  formulated  by  him.  If  there  is  an 
unconscious  spontaneous  logical  reasoning  of  the  plain  man, 
there  is  equally  an  unconscious  spontaneous  moral  reasoning  ; 
but,  when  analyzed  by  the  philosopher,  both  reasonings  may  be 
found  to  be  only  the  unsophisticated  form  of  what  may  be 
philosophically  generalized  and  expressed  in  scholastic  phrase- 
ology and  assimilated  each  to  the  other. 

In  the  'practical  syllogism,'  we  are  dealing  with  end  and 
motive — with  the  generalized  expression  of  the  object  of  desire 
and  of  the  means  by  which  it  may  be  attained.  The  procedure 
whereby  we  accept  an  end  and  work  towards  it  through  desire 
and  intellection  is  clearly  of  the  nature  of  syllogistic  reasoning, 
though  the  conclusion  of  the  procedure  is  not  a  definite  theo- 
retical consequence  satisfactory  to  the  logical  reason,  but  an 
action,  or  series  of  actions,  necessitated  by  the  principle  that 
we  adopt.  It  is  a  matter  of  '  principles,'  of  living  moral  prin- 
ciples, not  of  abstract  propositions  ;  and  hence  the  conclusion 
is  not  abstract  but  practical,  and  embodied  in  human  conduct. 

And  so,  in  the  practical  syllogism,  Aristotle  aims  at  giving 
syllogistic  form  to  action — at  analyzing  the  process  that  under- 
lies moral  conduct,  so  as  to  bring  out  its  rational  character. 
In  making  choice  with  a  view  to  action,  one  proceeds  upon  a 
general  principle — the  principle,  namely,  that  a  man  ought  to  do 
or  not  to  do  a  certain  kind  of  thing.  That  is  the  major  premiss 
of  the  resultant  action.  The  minor  premiss  is  the  perception 
that  such  and  such  a  particular  action  is  or  is  not  of  the  kind 
in  question.  Then  follows,  as  natural  consequence,  the  doing 
or  not  doing  of  that  particular  action.  The  great  implication 
in  the  practical  syllogism  is  that,  if  one  accepts  a  principle  as  a 
guide  of  life,  one* is  bound  to  accept  whatever  action  or  course 
of  action  that  principle  dictates.  For  example,  if  I  allow  that 
I  ought  to  pursue  my  own  highest  good,  then  I  commit  myself 
to  accepting  whatever  conduces  to  the  furtherance  of  that  end, 
and  to  behaving  accordingly.  On  what  ground,  however,  the 
principles  that  I  accept  as  competent  to  guide  me  in  life  rest, 
Aristotle  does  not  always  determine  in  the  same  way.  Some- 
times he  says  that  they  are  intuitive — I  perceive  them  to  be 
self-evident  and,  therefore,  beyond  the  need  of  proof.  At  other 
times  he  bases  them  on  experience ;  and,  still  again,  on  moral 
character.  The  last  of  these  is  clearly  not  fundamental.  Mora- 
over,  intuition  and  experience  are  not  contradictory. 


DESIRE  (Greek) 


671 


Whether  or  not  the  '  practical  syllogism '  is  fully 
expressive  of  what  exactly  takes  place  in  moral 
action  (action  of  a  voluntary  agent,  responsible  for 
his  choice,  and,  therefore,  for  his  conduct),  it  serves 
admirably  to  emphasize  the  fact  that  intellection 
and  desire  enter  into  deliberative  volition  and 
choice,  and  that  we  cannot  explain  the  phenomenon 
without  taking  account  of  both,  and  of  both  acting 
in  unison,  'like  the  ball  and  the  socket  in  the 
organic  unity  of  the  joint '  (otov  i  ytyy\vfi6s  [de  An. 
iii.  10.  4336,  22]). 

(3)  Over  and  above  this  psychology  of  desire, 
with  its  application  in  ethics,  Aristotle  also  re- 
cognizes desire  as  a  movent  power  in  the  higher 
reaches  of  ontology  and  cosmology.  For  God  to 
him  is,  first  and  chiefly,  the  Prime  Mover  of  the 
universe,  the  Source  of  all  motion  in  the  world, 
'  Himself  unmoved  the  while.'  He  is  the  object  of 
desire  (oockt-o>)  as  well  as  of  intellection  (vorpov)  to 
the  universe.  As  otherwise  expressed,  God,  as 
the  unmoved  eternal  active  principle,  moves  the 
heavens  as  the  beloved  one  moves  the  lover :  He 
is  the  attractive  force,  the  final  end,  of  all  existence 
—  'the  final  cause,  then,  produces  motion  by  being 
loved,  and,  by  that  which  it  moves,  it  moves  all 
other  things '  (Met.  xii.  7.  10726,  4). 

This,  though  metaphorically  expressed,  is  no  myth,  as 
Stewart  (Myths  of  Plato,  p.  355)  would  make  it  out  to  be :  it 
is  the  measured  and  subdued  enunciation  of  the  grand  onto- 
logical  conception  that  God  necessarily  is  and  is  good,  and  that 
the  cosmos,  which,  in  Aristotle's  view,  exists  from  all  eternity 
as  a  cosmos  (and  not  as  mere  '  matter '),  is  not  self-centred  and 
absolutely  independent,  but  is  eternally  dependent  on  and 
derived  from  the  Deity ;  it  exists  because  it  is  turned  over 
towards  the  Divine ;  it  has  no  being  apart  from  Him.  It  is 
thus  emphatically  asserted  that  the  world  is  not  fully  explicable 
on  merely  mechanical  principles :  Mind  is  the  ruling  factor, 
and  so  the  explanation  of  existence,  to  be  satisfactory,  must  be 
teleological. 

4.  Stoics  and  Epicureans. — (1)  We  get  back  to 
a  purely  ethical  and  practical  consideration  of 
desire  when  we  turn  to  the  Stoics.  Desire  was  a 
topic  of  supreme  consideration  with  them  :  indeed, 
their  doctrine  of  desire  may  almost  be  said  to  have 
constituted  their  philosophy.  According  to  them, 
it  is  man's  great  characteristic  that  he  was  made 
to  be  virtuous.  He  is  a  being  endowed  with 
rational  insight  into  the  true  values  of  things,  and 
with  power  over  his  own  inclinations  and  impulses. 
He  can  despise  pleasure,  he  can  scorn  wealth,  he 
can  sit  absolutely  loose  to  everything  that  is  not 
under  control  of  his  own  will, — to  fortune  and  to 
fame,  even  to  death  itself,— and  can  find  his 
freedom  only  in  his  love  of  virtue  and  his  abnega- 
tion of  the  desires.  A  man  should  have  only  one 
great  desire,  and  that  is  the  desire  of  virtue,  of  a 
noble  life,  of  pure  and  upright  character ;  all  else 
is  'indifferent,'  and,  if  surrendered  to,  would  sap 
his  moral  vigour  and  degrade  his  nature.  '  In  the 
world,  but  not  of  it,'  should  be  his  motto  ;  and  to 
be  master  of  his  own  soul,  supreme  in  the  realm  of 
his  motives  and  intentions,  is  the  only  end  that  is 
worth  pursuing.  The  principle  underlying  this 
was  precisely  that  which  Kant  reproduced  in 
modern  times  when  •  he  said  :  '  There  is  nothing 
in  the  world  which  can  be  termed  absolutely  and 
altogether  good,  a  good  will  alone  excepted ' 
(opening  of  the  Grundleg.  zur  Metaph.  d.  Sitten). 
To  submit  to  any  other  desire  but  that  of  virtue 
seemed  to  the  Stoics  to  be  elevating  what  is  con- 
tingent and  beyond  one's  power  —  extraneous, 
therefore,  to  one's  will  (which  alone  is  in  one's 
power) — to  a  place  which  it  has  no  right  to  occupy, 
and  which,  if  allowed  to  it,  can  only  spell  ruin. 
Consequently,  everything  that  is  not  love  of  virtue 
is,  to  the  Stoic,  to  be  resisted.  The  desires  are, 
one  and  all  of  them,  perturbing  ;  and  it  is  charac- 
teristic of  the  wise  man  that  he  is  calm,  unper- 
turbed, emotionless — he  is  self-sufficient  (aiTapn-qs), 
independent  of  and  above  every  non-rational  spring 
of  action :    '  The  view  taken  is  everything ;   and 


that  rests  with  yourself.  Disown  the  view,  at 
will ;  and,  behold,  the  headland  rounded,  there  are 
calm,  still  waters,  and  a  waveless  bay'  (Marc. 
Aurel.  Med.  xii.  22).  The  desires  are  not  simply 
weaknesses,  they  are  '  contrary  to  nature ' ;  they 
should  be  not  merely  controlled,  but  eradicated. 

The  ideal  man,  then,  to  the  Stoics  was  a  very 
impassive  being — the  embodiment  of  stern  virtue, 
shorn  of  emotion  and  desire.  The  same  might  be 
said  of  the  ideal  man  of  the  Cynics  (g.v.),  from 
which  the  Stoic  conception  was  originally  drawn 
only,  in  Cynicism  the  mastery  of  the  desires  was 
accompanied  with  a  contempt  for  social  conven- 
tions and  for  mental  culture  that  was  abhorrent  to 
the  Stoic. 

(2)  It  was  different  with  the  ideal  man  of  the 
Epicureans,  whose  summum  bonum  was  pleasure. 
And  yet  the  Epicureans  were  keenly  alive  to  the 
ethical  danger  that  lurked  in  the  desires.  For, 
although  pleasure  was  to  them  the  ultimate  end  of 
action,  and  so  the  object  of  desire,  they  quite 
clearly  recognized  the  tendency  of  the  desires  to 
outrun  discretion  and,  if  uncontrolled,  to  deprive 
a  man  of  that  calm  and  peaceful  state  of  mind 
(drapaj/o)  which  was  his  goal.  Consequently,  they 
could  counsel,  and  Epicurus  himself  did  counsel : 
'  If  you  wish  to  make  Pythocles  happy,  add  not  to 
his  riches,  but  diminish  his  desires.'  But  in  this 
they  differed  from  the  Stoics,  that,  whereas  the 
Stoics  counselled  the  impossible  task  of  eradicat- 
ing the  desires,  the  Epicureans,  like  Plato  and 
Aristotle,  counselled  moderating  and  directing 
them.  The  desires,  they  saw,  are  a  part  of  human 
nature,  and,  therefore,  legitimate  springs  of  action, 
but  only  if  they  are  kept  under  rational  control. 
Some  of  them,  they  said,  are  natural  and  necessary ; 
others  are  natural,  but  not  necessary ;  and  others 
still  are  neither  natural  nor  necessary.  And  they 
recognized  a  distinction  of  worth  amongst  them, 
the  goods  of  the  mind  being  to  them  of  greater 
value  than  those  of  the  body.  Hence,  their 
Hedonism  could  assume  a  robust  character. 

'  Says  Epicurus  :  "  When  I  was  sick,  I  did  not  converse  about 
my  bodily  ailments,  or  discuss  such  matters  with  my  visitors ; 
but  continued  to  dwell  upon  the  principles  of  natural  phUo- 
sophy?  and  more  particularly  how  the  understanding,  while 
participating  in  such  disturbances  of  the  flesh,  yet  remains  in 
unperturbed  possession  of  its  proper  good.  And  I  would  not," 
he  adds,  "  give  the  doctors  a  chance  of  blustering  and  making 
ado,  but  let  life  go  on  cheerily  and  well " '  (Marc.  Aurel.  Med. 
ix.  41). 

5.  The  Neo-Platonists. — 'Back  to  Plato'  was 
the  cry  of  the  Neo-Platonists ;  but  not  back  to 
Plato  through  disowning  Aristotle  or  refusing  to 
be  influenced  by  him.  On  the  contrary,  Plotinus 
himself  owed  much  to  Aristotle,  and  some  of  the 
greatest  of  the  Neo-Platonic  teachers  (e.g.  Por- 
phyry) were  among  the  most  eminent  of  the  ex- 
positors of  Aristotle.  The  Neo-Platonists  were 
essentially  religious  philosophers  and  mystics,  and 
the  purification  of  the  soul  and  its  gradual  de- 
liverance from  sense  and  matter  was  their  supreme 
aim.  Hence,  they  laid  special  stress  on  that  part 
of  the  teaching  of  Plato  which  dealt  with  xadapins, 
and,  taking  into  their  system  Orphism  and  Pytha- 
goreanism  also,  in  so  far  as  they  served  their 
purpose,  they  advocated  a  mode  of  living  which, 
if  consistently  pursued,  would  lead  to  the  abnega- 
tion of  the  world  and  the  absorption  of  the  in- 
dividual in  the  Divine.  The  great  end  of  all  was 
to  get  away  from  the  trammels  of  the  body,  which 
was  regarded  as  by  nature  vile,  as  both  a  clog  and 
a  prison-house  to  the  soul,  and  the  source  of  sin  and 
ugliness.  'True  waking,'  said  Plotinus  (Enneads, 
iii.  6.  6),  '  is  a  true  rising  up  from  the  body,  not 
with  a  body.'  There  was  a  dualism  here  which 
was  never  fully  overcome  in  the  Plotinian  or  Neo- 
Platonic  monism.  To  be  united  to  a  body  at  all 
was  regarded  as  a  descent  for  the  soul,  a  de- 
gradation, a  fall — it  is  a  separation,  though  not 


672 


DEUTSCH-KATHOLICISMUS 


absolutely  complete,  from  its  original  source,  the 
Universal  Soul  or  Anima  Mundi,  and  has  to  be 
made  good  by  an  ascent  or  return.  The  steps  by 
which  this  is  done  are  the  various  virtues,  which, 
according  to  Porphyry  and  the  later  Platonists, 
form  four  degrees  in  the  path  of  perfection  and 
self -accomplishment. 

*  And  first  there  is  the  career  of  honesty  and  worldly  prudence, 
which  makes  the  duty  of  the  citizen  [Civic  or  Political  virtue]. 
Secondly,  there  is  the  progress  in  purity  which  casts  earthly 
things  behind,  and  reaches  the  angelic  height  of  passionless 
serenity  [Cathartic  virtue].  And  the  third  step  is  the  Divine 
life,  which  by  intellectual  energy  is  turned  to  behold  the  truth 
of  things  [Theoretic  virtue].  Lastly,  in  the  fourth  grade,  the 
mind,  free  and  sublime  in  self-sustaining  wisdom,  makes  itself 
an  "exemplar"  of  virtue,  and  is  even  a  "father  of  gods" 
[Paradeigmatic  virtue]'  (W.  Wallace,  Hegel's  Philosophy  of 
Mind,  Oxford,  1894,  p.  xx). 

Not  yet,  however,  has  the  soul,  in  its  efforts  to 
get  free  from  matter  and  the  thraldom  of  the 
desires,  reached  its  highest  aim.  That  aim  is 
union  with  the  Absolute,  undisturbed  contempla- 
tion of  the  One,  the  Ineffable  Being,  when  subject 
and  object  are  identical.  This  is  obtained,  not 
through  practical  virtue  or  through  intellectual 
cognition  (though  these  prepare  foi  it),  but  by 
non-rational  ecstasy,  or  spiritual  tranie, 
'by  the  suspension,' says  Porphyry  (Sententios  26),  'of  all  the 
intellectual  faculties,  by  repose  and  the  annihilation  of  thought. 
As  the  soul  learns  to  know  sleep  when  slumbering,  so  it  is  in 
ecstasy,  or  the  annihilation  of  all  the  faculties  of  her  being,  that 
■he  knows  that  which  is  above  existence  and  above  truth.' 

Thus  are  the  desires  effectually  vanquished  by 
mysticism :  in  absolute  union  with  God  (ivwo-is), 
desire  is  not. 

Literature. — A.  General.— Any  of  the  leading  Histories  of 
Philosophy :  e.g.  Zeller,  Schwegler,  Ritter,  Ueberweg,  Windel- 
band,  Gomperz,  Alfred  W.  Benn  (The  Gr.  Philosophers,  London, 
1882),  Janet-Seailles. — B.  Special.— I.  Socrates  and  the  Pre- 
Socratics  :  Hesiod,  Works  and  Days  (Eng.  tr.  by  A.  W.  Mair, 
Oxford,  1908^ ;  Xenophon,  Memorabilia  and  Symposium ;  Aris- 
totle, Met.  l.  ;  J.  F.  Ferrier,  Lectures  on  Gr.  Philos.,  vol.  i., 
Edinburgh,  1868;  H.  Diels,  Doxographi  Graeci,  Berlin,  1879; 
J.  Burnet,  Earty  Gr.  Philosophers2,  London,  1908 ;  James 
Adam,  The  Religious  Teachers  of  Greece^,  Edinburgh,  1909. — 
II.  Plato  :  Dialogues,  esp.  Republic  (ed.  J.  Adam,  Cambridge, 
1902),  Phcedrus,  Gorgias,  Phmdo,  Cratylus,  Symposium,  and 
Timceus  (the  whole  in  that  English  classic,  Jowett'str. ,  Oxford, 
1892) ;  G.  Grote,  Plato  and  the  Other  Companions  of  Sokrates'*, 
London,  1876  ;  W.  Archer  Butler,  Lectures  on  the  Hist,  of  Anc. 
Philos.,  vol.  ii.,  Cambridge,  1866  ;  J.  A.  Stewart,  The  Myths 
of  Plato,  London,  1905. — III.  Aristotle:  de  An.  (ed.  Edwin 
Wallace,  Cambridge,  1882,  or  R.  D.  Hicks,  Cambridge,  1907), 
Eth.  Nic.  (Sir  A.  Grant's  ed.,  with  Essays  and  Notes2,  London, 
1866 ;  Ingram  Bywater's  text  [Aristotelis  Eth.  Nic,  Oxford, 
1890],  and  Contributions  to  the-.Textual  Criticism  of  Aristotle's 
Nic.  Eth.,  do.  1892;  and  Eng.  tr.  by  F.  H.  Peters,  London, 
1S81),  Metaphysics  (Eng.  tr.  by  J.  A.  Smith  and  W.  D.  Ross, 
Oxford,  1908) ;  J.  A.  Stewart,  NoUs  on  the  Nic.  Ethics  of 
Aristotle,  Oxford,  1892;  G.  Grote,  Aristotle1',  London,  1880, 
and  Fragments  on  Ethical  Subjects,  London,  1876 ;  R.  Adamson, 
The  Development  of  Gr.  Philos.,  London,  1908. — IV.  Stoics  and 
Epicureans  :  (1)  Epictetus,  Diss,  and  Enchir.  ;  Marcus 
Aurelius,  Med.  (Eng.  tr.  by  Gerald  H.  Rendall,  London,  1898, 
or  that  by  J.  Jackson,  Oxford,  1906) ;  Cicero,  de  Fin,  etc. ; 
Seneca,  Epp.  etc ;  Diog.  Laert.,  Lives ;  Plutarch,  de 
Stoicorum  Repugnantiis,  etc. ;  Sextus  Empiricus,  adv.  Math. 
etc. ;  W.  L.  Davidson,  The  Stoic  Creed,  Edinburgh,  1907 ; 
R.  D.  Hicks,  Stoic  and  Epicurean,  London,  1910;  F.  W. 
Bussell,  Marcus  Aurelius  and  the  Later  Stoics,  Edinburgh, 
1910.  (2)  Diog.  Laert.  x. ;  Cicero  and  Seneca,  ut  supra ; 
Lucretius,  de  Rerum  Natura  (Eng.  tr.  by  H.  A.  J.  Munro4, 
Cambridge,  1886) ;  W.  Wallace,  Epicureanism,  London, 
1880 ;  J.  Masson,  The  Atomic  Theory  of  Lucretius,  London, 
1907,  and  other  writings  on  Epicureanism. — V.  Neo-Platonists  : 
Plotinus,  Enneads  ;  Porphyry,  Sentential,  etc. ;  H.  Siebeck, 
Gesch.  der  Psychologie,  Gotha,  1884 ;  E.  Zeller,  Die  Philosophic 
der  Griechen5,  Leipzig,  1892,  part  not  translated  into  Eng. ;  C. 
Big-gr,  Neo-Platonism,  London,  1896  ;  T.  Whittaker,  The  Neo- 
Platonists  :  a  Study  in  The  History  of  Hellenism,  Cambridge, 
1901 ;  E.  Hatch,  The  Influence  of  Greek  Ideas  and  Usages  upon 
the  Christian  Church,  London,  1890  (Hibbert  Lectures,  1888) ; 
B.  F.  Westcott,  Essays  on  the  Hist,  of  Rel.  Thought  in  the 
West,  London,  1891 ;  E.  Caird,  Evolution  of  Theol.  in  the  Gr. 
Philosophers,  Glasgow,  1904. 

William  L.  Davidson. 
DESTINY.— SeeFATE. 

DETERMINISM.— See  Necessitarianism. 

DEUTSCH-KATHOLICISMUS.— i. 
Character  of  the  movement. — Deutsch-Katholicis- 


is  the  name  given  to  a  movement  of  reform 
that  sprang  up  within  the  Catholic  Church  in  Ger- 
many about  the  middle  of  the  19th  century.  The 
object  of  the  movement  was  to  establish  a  type 
of  Catholicism  which  should  be  in  harmony  with 
modern  thought,  leaving  the  individual  in  perfect 
freedom  in  matters  of  doctrine  and  in  the  expression 
of  his  religious  views,  and  so  far  take  account  of 
the  patriotic  sentiments  of  the  .Roman  Catholics  of 
Germany  as  to  permit  the  use  of  their  mother 
tongue  in  the  services  of  the  Church.  These  aims 
were  in  some  respects  similar  to  those  of  Febronian- 
ism  in  the  18th  cent.,  which  strove  to  make  the 
Catholic  Church  in  Germany  independent  of  the 
Roman  curia  by  putting  an  end  to  the  sponsorship 
exercised  over  it  by  the  latter.  The  '  German- 
Catholic'  movement,  however,  took  a  course 
different  from  that  of  the  Febronians,  inasmuch 
as  it  neglected  the  politico-ecclesiastical  factor, 
which  had  eventually  proved  the  decisive  factor  in 
the  conflicts  regarding  the  resolutions  of  the  Ems 
Congress  (1786) ;  and  this  difference  between  the 
two  reforming  enterprises  finds  outward  expression 
in  the  circumstance  that,  whereas  the  movement 
which  disturbed  the  closing  years  of  the  18th  cent, 
found  its  leaders  in  the  German  archbishops,  the 
schism  of  the  so-called  '  German  Catholics '  had  not 
a  single  active  supporter  in  the  higher  ranks  of  the 
clergy. 

One  of  the  vital  elements  in  the  situation  which 
gave  rise  to  '  German  Catholicism '  was  contributed 
by  the  rise  of  Ultramontanism,  i.e.  of  that  move- 
ment in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  which,  after 
the  frightful  disasters  experienced  by  that  Church 
during  the  French  Revolution,  looked  to  the 
Jesuits  for  its  rehabilitation,  made  common  cause 
with  that  Order,  and  sought  to  disseminate  the 
type  of  religion  characteristic  thereof.  In  the 
period  following  upon  the  restoration  of  the  Jesuit 
Order  in  1814,  Ultramontanism  had  made  headway 
in  Germany  as  in  other  countries,  but  it  had  also 
aroused  opposition  in  a  corresponding  degree. 
Although  the  immediate  occasion  of  the  rise  of 
'  German  Catholicism '  was  given  by  the  protest 
made  against  the  proceedings  of  an  individual 
bishop,  yet  this  protest  really  sprang  from  the 
broader  grounds  of  a  fundamental  contrast  with 
the  Ultramontane  form  of  religion  ;  and  it  was  to 
this  difference  that  the  schismatic  movement  owed 
all  the  vigour  which — for  no  long  time  indeed — it 
was  capable  of  putting  forth. 

Another  potent  influence  in  the  rise  and  develop- 
ment of  '  German  Catholicism '  was  contributed  by 
the  progressive  tendencies  of  the  day.  The  re- 
actionary policy  pursued  by  the  various  govern- 
ments of  Europe  after  the  Napoleonic  wars  was 
incompetent  to  quell  the  wide-spread  liberal  move- 
ment instigated  by  the  great  Revolution.  On  the 
contrary,  the  disposition  to  break  away  from  the 
bonds  of  authority  and  the  leading  -  strings  of 
patronage,  and  the  striving  after  liberty  to  mould 
life  and  conduct  on  lines  independent  of  hoary 
convention,  asserted  themselves  and  gained  ground 
in  every  department  of  human  experience  —  in 
politics,  in  social  relationships,  and  even  in  the 
province  of  scientific  research.  As  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  however,  is  inherently  conserva- 
tive, and  was  not  merely  antipathetic  to  such 
longings,  but  was  inclined  rather,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  recently  revived  Jesuit  Order,  to  seek 
the  path  of  deliverance  from  the  prevailing  welter 
of  things  in  a  return  to  the  principles  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  it  could  not  fail  to  come  into  conflict  with 
the  liberal  spirit  that  was  making  itself  felt  even 
within  its  own  pale. 

'  German  Catholicism '  appeared  first  of  all  as 
simply  the  criticism  of  an  incident  in  practical 
religious  policy,  viz.  the  exhibition  of  a  relic  as 


DEUTSCH-KATHOL.ICISMUS 


673 


an  object  of  devotion.  Very  soon,  however,  it 
drew  the  whole  course  of  ecclesiastical  procedure 
and  religious  doctrine  within  the  range  of  its 
strictures.  Eventually  it  took  the  decisive  step 
of  organizing  its  adherents  in  communities,  thus 
placing  them  in  the  position  of  schismatics.  That 
the  whole  course  of  this  development  was  traversed 
within  the  term  of  a  few  weeks  was  due  to  the  fact 
that  those  who  identified  themselves  with  the 
movement  were  already  alienated  from  the  Church 
of  Rome,  and  that  the  bishops  who  had  to  deal 
with  the  rising  lost  no  time  in  lengthy  delibera- 
tions, but  proceeded  at  once  to  administer  penalties 
of  such  severity  as  to  drive  the  refractory  elements 
into  open  rupture. 

2.  Origin  and  development. — The  immediate  oc- 
casion of  the  schism  was  the  exhibition  of  the  seam- 
less robe  of  Christ  which  belonged  to  the  Cathedral 
Church  of  Treves.  The  '  Holy  Coat '  was  regarded  by 
that  Church  as  its  supreme  treasure,  and  had  been 
exhibited  previously  at  special  seasons  as  an  object 
of  reverence.  When  Bishop  Arnoldi  of  Treves, 
ignoring  the  doubts  cast  upon  the  genuineness 
of  the  relic,  repeated  the  solemnity  in  1844,  a  most 
extraordinary  sensation  was  aroused.  He  certainly 
scored  a  great  triumph  in  bringing  vast  multitudes 
of  pilgrims  to  the  city,  and  so  far  the  affair  formed 
an  effective  demonstration  of  the  power  of  Catholi- 
cism. But,  on  the  other  hand,  such  a  method  of 
strengthening  Christian  belief  gave  great  umbrage 
to  many.  Those  within  the  Roman  fold  who  took 
objection  to  the  bishop's  action  found  a  champion 
in  a  priest  named  Ronge,  who,  in  an  open  letter  to 
Arnoldi,  first  published  in  the  Sachsische  Vater- 
landsblcitter,  urged  a  vigorous  protest  against  what 
he  called  a  Gotzenfest,  an  idolatrous  celebration. 

Johannes  Ronge  was  born  on  the  16th  of  October  1813,  at 
Bischofswerda  in  Silesia,  and  was  trained  and  eventually 
ordained  as  a  priest  at  Breslau.  He  served  for  a  time  as  chap- 
lain at  Grottkau,  but  had  been  suspended  on  account  of  certain 
publications,  and  was  now  a  teacher  at  Laurahutte  in  Upper 
Silesia.  Having  neither  inclination  noraptitude  for  the  clerical 
office,  he  had  become  utterly  alienated  in  spirit  from  the 
Catholic  Church,  and,  as  he  refused  to  retract  his  letter  when 
called  upon  to  do  so,  be  was  sentenced  to  degradation  and  ex- 
communication by  his  superior,  the  bishop  of  Breslau,  on  the 
4th  of  December  1844.  This  act  of  censure,  however,  failed  to 
reduce  him  to  submission ;  its  actual  effect,  indeed,  was  to 
stimulate  his  refractory  disposition  to  its  full  manifestation. 
He  challenged  the  claims  of  the  Roman  hierarchy  in  numerous 
pamphlets  and  articles,  and  what  was  at  first  a  criticism  of  the 
proceedings  at  Treves  became  at  length  an  all-round  attack 
upon  the  authority  of  the  Catholic  Church  and  its  leading 
institutions. 

About  the  same  time  a  Catholic  priest  named  Czerski  had 
arrived  at  conclusions  similar  to  those  of  Ronge,  though  quite 
independently.  Johann  Czerski  was  born  on  the  12th  of  May 
1813,  in  Western  Prussia.  While  attending  the  Seminary  at 
Posen,  he  passed  through  severe  mental  conflicts,  but  at  length 
took  office  in  the  Cathedral  Church  of  that  town.  While  in 
this  position  he  made  a  profound  study  of  the  Scriptures,  with 
the  result  that  he  became  quite  unsettled  regarding  the  funda- 
mental institutions  of  the  Roman  CatholicChurch — the  primacy 
of  the  Pope,  the  hierarchy,  auricular  confession,  the  sacrifice 
of  the  Mass,  etc.  With  such  doubts  in  his  heart  he  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  position  of  vicar  at  Schneideinuhl,  where,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  congregation  was  no  less  critically  disposed 
towards  Catholicism  than  he  was.  It  was,  however,  a  purely 
personal  matter  which  at  length  brought  him  into  direct  conflict 
with  ecclesiastical  authority ;  he  was  suspended  from  office  in 
consequence  of  his  relations  with  a  young  woman.  But  his 
congregation  remained  loyal  to  him,  and  when,  renouncing  his 
office,  he  abandoned  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  altogether, 
they  followed  his  example  (19th  October  1844).  A  few  months 
later,  sentence  of  degradation  and  excommunication  was  passed 
upon  him. 

Ronge's  challenge  found  considerable  support 
throughout  large  sections  of  Catholicism  in  Ger- 
many. He  travelled  widely  as  an  agitator,  exert- 
ing himself  to  maintain  the  movement  and  organize 
his  followers.  The  first  congregation  of  the  new 
sect  was  constituted  at  Breslau.  But  even  in  the 
operations  preliminary  to  this  step  the  seceders 
felt  themselves  faced  by  the  difficulty  of  finding 
a  common  basis  for  the  heterogeneous  elements  in 
the  '  Universal  Christian  Church,'  as  its  adherents 
vol.  iv. — 43 


called  it  at  first.  Nor  was  this  embarrassment 
one  of  a  merely  incidental  and  transitory  character  ; 
on  the  contrary,  it  indicated  a  real  and  inherent 
weakness  of  the  whole  movement,  asserting  itself 
whenever  an  attempt  was  made  to  unite  the  com- 
munities which  sprang  up  in  large  numbers  through- 
out the  countr}'.  For  the  purpose  of  effecting  such 
a  union,  a  Conference,  attended  by  31  delegates 
from  15  congregations,  was  held  at  Leipzig,  from 
the  23rd  to  the  26th  of  March  1845.  The  proceed- 
ings of  this  Conference  are  given  in  the  official 
report,  Die  erste  allgemeine  Kirchcnversammlung 
der  deutsch  -  katholischen  Kirche  (Leipzig,  1845), 
edited  by  R.  Blum  and  F.  Wigard.  It  was  here 
decided  that  the  name  of  the  new  cause  should  be 
Deutsch- Katholicismus,  with  the  Bible  as  its  doc- 
trinal basis  :  a  short  Confession  was  also  adopted. 
It  was  made  a  proviso,  however,  that  neither 
Scripture  nor  this  Confession  was  to  rank  as  an 
external  authority,  but  that  they  were  to  be 
regarded  as  standards  only  in  so  far  as  they 
harmonized  with  rational  thought.  The  verifica- 
tion of  Christianity  in  a  life  of  Christian  love  was 
set  forth  as  the  prime  duty  of  the  members.  It  was 
resolved  to  retain  the  sacraments  of  Baptism  and 
the  Lord's  Supper  (under  both  kinds),  but  to  have 
done  with  the  Papacy,  the  hierarchy,  auricular 
confession,  the  celibacy  of  priests,  the  adoration 
of  saints,  relics,  and  images,  indulgences,  pilgrim- 
ages, etc. — in  a  word,  to  effect  a  thoroughgoing 
separation  from  the  Roman  Church  and  its  dis- 
tinctive institutions.  In  the  order  for  public 
worship,  the  liturgy  of  the  Mass  and  the  use  of 
the  Latin  language  were  discarded.  The  constitu- 
tion of  the  new  church  was  to  be  Presbyterian,  and 
General  Assemblies  were  to  be  regularly  called. 

Such  was  the  ground-plan  for  a  new  religious 
body,  but  the  plan  presently  met  with  opposition 
within  the  community  itself.  The  abandonment 
of  the  Apostolic  Confession  gave  umbrage  to  the 
'  German  Catholics  '  at  Berlin,  and  led  to  a  separa- 
tion there.  Czerski  himself  was  dissatisfied  with 
the  resolutions  of  the  Conference,  as  he  had  been 
thwarted  in  his  endeavour  to  obtain  Confessional 
recognition  of  the  Divinity  of  Christ,  Ronge's 
influence  on  the  other  side  proving  too  strong. 
This  difference,  however,  did  not  lead  to  a  breach, 
as  Czerski  gave  way  and  simply  claimed  the  right 
to  adhere  to  his  own  position.  But,  while  imminent 
disintegration  was  thus  avoided,  no  genuine  inward 
harmony  was  attained,  and  the  movement  became 
even  more  revolutionary.  The  adherents  of  Ronge, 
in  fact,  drawn  together  as  they  were  by  the  most 
diverse  motives  and  interests,  formed  an  aggregate 
so  heterogeneous  that  every  attempt  to  secure 
a  basis  of  union  came  to  nought.  It  was  main- 
tained that  even  the  Leipzig  Confession  was  not 
to  be  held  as  binding,  and  there  was  a  general 
desire  to  discard  everything  of  the  nature  of  dogma  ; 
but,  of  course,  no  real  progress  towards  unity  could 
be  made  on  such  negative  lines,  and  it  still  remained 
impossible  to  define  the  scope  and  aim  of  the  new 
church,  as  the  visible  embodiment  of  that  religion 
of  liberty  which  had  lain  so  long  under  the  tyranny 
of  dogma.  The  outcome  of  this  vagueness  and 
indecision  was  that  many  Roman  Catholics,  who, 
while  favourably  disposed  to  a  broader  conception 
of  Christianity,  were  by  no  means  ready  to  relin- 
quish Christianity  itself  turned  away  from  '  German 
Catholicism,'  and  that  some  who  desired  to  have 
no  further  dealings  with  Christianity  allied  them- 
selves with  the  new  movement.  Ronge's  incapacity 
to  grapple  with  this  critical  state  of  affairs  soon 
became  evident  to  all,  and,  as  there  was  no  leading 
spirit  to  step  into  his  place,  the  cause  soon  lost  all 
its  attractive  power.  After  1847,  indeed,  Ronge 
was  a  spent  force  in  public  life.  He  died  at  Vienna 
in  1887  ;  Czerski,  in  1803. 


674 


DEUTSCH-KATHOLICISMUS 


3.  The  '  Friends  of  Light '  (Lichtfreunde). — The 
subsequent  development  of  '  German  Catholicism ' 
reached  its  final  stages  in  close  connexion  with  the 
history  of  the  '  Friends  of  Light ' — a  parallel  move- 
ment among  Protestants  which  had  sprung  up  in 
1841.  In  that  year  certain  Evangelical  clergy  in 
the  Prussian  province  of  Saxony  instituted  a  society 
which  claimed  for  its  members  the  right  of  unre- 
stricted scientific  investigation  and  of  complete 
freedom  in  personal  development.  They  called 
themselves  Protestant  Friends,  but  were  popularly 
known  as  Lichtfreunde,  which  became  their  accepted 
designation.  Their  meetings  were  thronged ;  the 
number  of  divines  resorting  to  them  constantly 
increased ;  teachers  also  began  to  attend,  and  soon 
the  laity  followed.  As  the  leaders  of  the  move- 
ment were  clergymen  of  the  National  Church, 
collision  with  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  was 
inevitable.  In  1840  the  consistorium  of  Magde- 
burg reprimanded  a  minister  named  Sintenis  for 
having  spoken  of  prayer  to  Christ  as  a  superstition. 
Sentence  of  deposition  was  passed  upon  G.  A. 
Wislicenus  of  Halle  and  J.  Kupp  of  Konigsberg, 
while  others,  such  as  W.  E.  Baltzer  and  A.  T. 
Wislicenus,  anticipated  formal  dismissal  by  volun- 
tarily abandoning  their  office.  In  all  these  cases 
the  point  at  issue  was  essentially  the  same,  viz. 
whether  and  how  far  an  incumbent  might  be  per- 
mitted to  take  an  independent  attitude  towards 
the  doctrine  and  the  order  of  public  worship  recog- 
nized as  statutory  in  the  National  Church.  The 
claim  of  liberty  was  obviously  against  the  law  as 
commonly  interpreted.  These  conflicts,  however, 
were  a  matter  of  profound  significance  for  the  whole 
Evangelical  Church  of  Germany,  as  the  clergymen 
in  question  did  not  stand  alone,  but  were  supported 
by  larger  or  smaller  groups  of  members.  The  process 
of  subjecting  the  clerical  offenders  to  ecclesiastical 
discipline  was  followed  by  secessions  from  the 
Established  Church,  and  dissident  congregations 
were  formed  in  Konigsberg,  Halle,  Magdeburg, 
Nordhausen,  Halberstadt,  Hamburg,  and  other 
places. 

4.  Relations  between  the  '  Friends  of  Light ' 
and  the  'German  Catholics'  down  to  1858. — 
These  two  bodies  soon  developed  intimate  mutual 
relations.  The  fact  that  the  one  originated  within 
Protestantism  and  the  other  within  Catholicism 
did  not  constitute  a  ground  of  difference,  as  it  lay 
in  the  very  nature  of  both  movements  to  attenuate 
all  the  peculiar  elements  of  the  creed,  and  to 
deprive  them  of  the  value  generally  assigned  to 
them.  Both  were  at  one  in  their  demand  for 
freedom  and  progress,  and  in  both  the  more  radical 
section,  which  aimed  at  disengaging  religion  from 
the  prevailing  ecclesiastical  conditions,  gained  the 
upper  hand.  Between  the  two,  accordingly,  there 
existed  an  essential  affinity,  and  it  was  due  to 
something  more  than  tactical  considerations  that 
they  showed  a  tendency  to  come  together.  The 
growth  of  this  tendency  was  greatly  hastened  by 
the  circumstance  that  both  bodies  suffered  alike 
from  the  coercive  measures  of  the  public  authorities ; 
it  was,  in  fact,  persecution  from  the  side  of  the 
various  governments  which  brought  about  their 
union. 

The  governments  of  the  different  States  regarded 
' Free  Protestants '  and  'German  Catholics" alike 
with  suspicion,  seeing  in  both  an  embodiment  of  the 
revolutionary  spirit  which  made  itself  felt  through- 
out Germany  in  the  early  forties  of  the  19th  century. 
The  practical  expression  of  this  antipathy  took 
many  forms,  and  every  method  of  repression  per- 
mitted by  the  legal  'systems  of  the  several  States 
was  resorted  to.  In  some  cases  the  new  sects  were 
treated  as  illicit  religious  associations,  while  in 
others  the  designation  '  religious  associations '  was 
denied  them  ;  in  many  districts  they  were  simply 


let  alone ;  in  others  they  were  proceeded  against 
with  all  the  rigours  of  the  law.  The  Revolution 
of  1848  put  an  end  to  this  state  of  affairs,  and 
gave  complete  liberty  of  action  to  the  'Friends 
of  Light '  and  the  '  German  Catholics '  alike.  The 
immediate  effect  of  the  change,  in  the  case  of  the 
former  at  least,  was  a  notable  increase  in  the 
number  of  their  congregations.  This  was  more 
particularly  the  case  in  Middle  and  North  Germany, 
and  here  it  became  evident  that  the  dissentient 
cause  found  its  most  fruitful  soil  in  urban  popula- 
tions. Another  characteristic  phenomenon  was 
that  the  membership  of  the  various  congregations 
was  subject  to  frequent  and  sudden  fluctuations, 
while  the  lines  of  demarcation  between  '  Free 
Protestants '  and  '  German  Catholics '  became  more 
and  more  unsettled.  These  facts  render  it  difficult 
to  obtain  accurate  statistics  regarding  the  numerical 
strength  of  the  movements.  We  must  restrict 
ourselves  to  the  statement  that,  according  to  the 
most  reliable  authorities,  the  combined  membership 
of  the  two  bodies  during  the  period  of  their  greatest 
vogue,  i.e.  about  the  middle  of  the  19th  cent.,  may 
be  reckoned  approximately  at  150,000.  The  close- 
ness of  the  relations  between  the  two  may  be 
gauged  by  the  fact  that  the  third  '  German  Catholic ' 
Council  and  the  third  '  Free  Protestant '  Conference 
met  in  the  same  house  in  Leipzig  on  the  same  day 
of  May,  1850.  It  was  at  this  session  also  that  the 
governments  began  to  revert  to  their  policy  of 
persecution.  When  the  agitation  aroused  by  the 
Revolution  of  1848  had  died  down,  the  legislatures 
of  the  various  German  States  made  it  their  express 
aim  to  suppress  all  liberal  tendencies  in  State  and 
Church,  thus  inaugurating  the  '  period  of  reaction.' 
As  both  the  '  Friends  of  Light '  and  the  '  German 
Catholics '  lay  under  suspicion,  and  were  regarded 
as  illegal  societies  and  as  sources  of  danger  to 
the  State,  the  governments  resorted  to  every  avail- 
able means  to  render  impossible  the  continued 
existence  of  these  bodies.  The  first  blow  in  the 
revived  policy  of  repression  was  struck  on  the 
occasion  of  the  double  Convention  at  Leipzig  in 
1850.  Just  as  the  proceedings  were  about  to  begin, 
the  police  appeared  upon  the  scene  and  broke  up 
the  meetings,  and  within  the  next  few  years  all 
the  States  of  Germany  adopted  measures  for  which 
this  incident  provided  an  example.  The  ruthless 
procedure  of  the  Prussian  government  in  particular 
provoked  the  indignation  of  its  victims.  Even  the 
religious  services  of  the  Free  Congregations  were 
interrupted  by  soldiers.  Such  of  the  official  acts 
of  their  ministers  as  had  an  important  bearing  upon 
civil  life  were  not  recognized  by  the  legislature,  so 
that.for  instance,  marriages  performed  by  them  were 
treated  as  mere  illicit  unions.  They  were  forbidden 
to  celebrate  the  Lord's  Supper,  to  prepare  candidates 
for  confirmation,  or  to  officiate  at  funerals.  This 
policy  of  persecution,  however,  was  finally  aban- 
doned when  Prince  Wilhelm  of  Prussia  (afterwards 
Emperor  Wilhelm  I.),  in  consequence  of  the  illness 
of  his  brother,  Friedrich  Wilhelm  IV.,  assumed 
the  regency  in  1858.  Thereafter  the  'Friends  of 
Light '  and  the  '  German  Catholics '  were  able  to 
maintain  and  develop  their  position  without  let  or 
hindrance  from  the  authorities. 

5.  '  German  Catholics '  and  Free  Congregations 
after  1858. — In  1859  the  majority  of  the  two  bodies 
brought  the  friendly  relations  long  subsisting 
between  them  to  a  focus  in  a  corporate  union,  thus 
forming  the  '  Association  of  Free  Religious  Com- 
munities'  (Bund  freier  religibser  Gemeinden).  A 
biennial  Conference  of  representatives  from  the 
various  congregations  was  instituted ;  but  the 
resolutions  of  this  Conference  have  the  validity  of 
'  counsels '  merely,  and  apply  only  to  questions  of 
organization.  The  individual  congregation  accord- 
ingly has  absolute  freedom  in  the  management  of 


DEVADATTA 


676 


its  own  affairs,  as  is  meanwhile  guaranteed  by  the 
constitution  of  the  society,  which  provides  that 
'  freedom  to  act  in  all  religious  matters  according 
to  one's  own  increasing  knowledge'  shall  be  one 
of  its  own  accepted  principles.  The  object  of  the 
society  is  set  forth  as  '  the  promotion  of  a  practical 
religion  independent  of  dogma.'  In  1899  the  Union 
embraced  24  congregations  with  an  aggregate  of 
17,000  members.  Twenty-four  congregations  with 
some  5000  members  remained  outside  the  Union. 
The  majority  of  theoriginal  'German  Catholic'  com- 
munities joined  the  Bund,  and  many  of  these  keep 
alive  the  memory  of  their  origin  by  continuing  to 
use  the  old  name,  either  by  itself  or  in  conjunction 
with  the  designation  frei-religios.  Amongst  other 
appellations  still  in  use  are  '  Christian  Catholic,' 
'Free  Christian,'  and  even  'Free  Evangelical- 
Catholic  Church.'  It  is  no  longer  possible,  there- 
fore, to  draw  a  sharp  distinction  between  '  German 
Catholicism '  and  the  Free  Religious  Communities. 
It  is  only  in  the  kingdom  of  Saxony  that  the 
former  has  chosen  to  maintain  its  independence  in 
an  organized  form.  '  The  German  Catholic  Church 
in  the  Kingdom  of  Saxony '  has  a  membership  of 
about  2000,  and  is  represented  in  Dresden,  Leipzig, 
and  Chemnitz  by  fairly  large  congregations. 

We  learn  from  these  figures  that  the  movement 
which  originated  in  the  early  forties  of  the  19th 
cent,  embraces  at  the  present  day  a  very  insignificant 
portion  of  German  Protestantism.  The  new  society 
soon  lost  its  better  educated  adherents,  and  it  now 
appears  to  find  its  main  support  amongst  working 
people  who  have  left  the  State  Churches.  The 
Free  Religious  Communities  form  the  residual 
elements  of  an  initially  powerful  movement,  and 
now  to  their  cost  find  themselves  upon  the  horns 
of  a  practical  dilemma.  On  the  one  hand,  they 
must  renounce  all  definite  formulation  of  doctrine, 
in  order  to  avoid  falling  back  into  the  dogmatic 
Christianity  which  they  condemn  in  other  Churches; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  for  the  work  of  instruc- 
tion, of  preaching,  and  of  gaining  new  members, 
they  cannot  well  do  without  distinct  principles 
expressive  of  their  actual  religious  beliefs.  In 
consequence  of  this  embarrassment,  the  Free  Religi- 
ous Communities  show  great  diversity  in  practice. 
Some  still  make  use  of  the  Scriptures  in  religious 
instruction  ;  some  still  maintain  their  adherence  at 
least  to  Christian  ethics ;  but  there  are  others  who 
hava  abandoned  all  connexion  with  Christianity 
whatever,  and  take  their  stand  upon  a  basis  of  natu- 
ralism and  atheism.  The  one  point  of  uniformity 
amongst  these  communities  is  that  they  all  alike 
repudiate  the  existing  Christian  Churches,  whether 
Evangelical  or  Roman  Catholic.  Great  diversity 
likewise  prevails  in  their  ceremonial.  They  still  to 
some  extent  celebrate  the  Christian  festivals,  but 
always  with  a  changefrom  their  original  significance. 
The  Lord's  Supper  continues  to  be  observed  in  many 
congregations,  but  Baptism  has  been  set  aside.  The 
course  of  religious  instruction  is  brought  to  a  close 
by  a  sort  of  confirmation,  or '  initiation  of  the  young ' 
(Jugendweihe),  which  forms  the  gateway  to  full 
membership  in  the  community.  In  this  ordinance 
the  candidates  for  confirmation  give  a  pledge  that 
they  will  seek  truth,  do  right,  and  strive  after 
perfection.  Thus  the  Christian  element  still  per- 
sisting in  these  communities  is  no  longer  the  vital 
factor  for  them,  and  their  past  history  goes  to  show 
that  in  course  of  time  they  will  eliminate  it 
altogether. 

Literature. — F.  Katnpe,  Gesch.  d.  religiogen  Bewegung  d. 
neueren  Zeit,  4  vols.  (Leipzig,  1852-1860).  For  further  literature, 
Bee  C.  Mirbt,  '  Deutschkatholizismus,'  in  PRE^iv.  (1898)  583- 
589,  and  his  art.  '  Lichtfreunde,'  to.  xi.  (1902)  465-474  (cf.  xvii. 

§t  ii.  [Berichtigung])  ;  Drews, '  Die  freien  rehgiosen  Gemeinden 
.  Gegenwart,'  in  ZTK  xi.  (Tubingen,  1901)  484-527 ;  G.  Tschirn, 
Zur  eojakr.  Gesck.  d.  freireligiosen  Bewegung  (Bamberg,  1904- 
l»05).  C.    MlRBT. 


s 


DEVADATTA.— A  Sakya  noble,  probably  a 
cousin  of  the  Buddha,  who  joined  the  Order  in  the 
20th  year  of  the  movement,  but  held  opinions  oi 
his  own,  both  in  doctrine  and  in  discipline,  at 
variance  with  those  inculcated  by  the  Master.  He 
received  a  certain  amount  of  support,  both  within 
the  Order  and  from  laymen,  but  seems  to  have 
remained  quiet  till  about  ten  years  before  the  death 
of  the  Buddha.  At  that  date  he  asked  the  latter 
to  retire  in  his  favour,  and,  being  refused,  started 
a  new  Order  of  his  own.  It  is  curious  that  these 
dissensions,  and  this  final  rupture,  which  must 
have  had  so  important  an  influence  on  the  early 
history  of  the  Buddhist  community  (we  find  traces 
of  them  a  thousand  years  afterwards),  should 
receive  so  slight  a  notice  in  the  earliest  documents 
relating  to  Buddhist  doctrine.  Devadatta  is  not  even 
mentioned  in  the  Sutta  Nipata,  or  in  the  collection 
of  longer  Dialogues  (the  Dlgha  Nikaya).  In  the 
other  three  collections  of  Suttas  he  is  a  few  times 
barely  referred  to,  in  the  discussion  of  some  ethical 
proposition,  as  an  example.  In  the  minds  of  the 
editors  of  these  collections  the  doctrine  itself 
loomed  so  much  more  largely  than  any  personal 
or  historical  matter,  that  Devadatta  and  his  schism 
are  all  but  ignored  ;  but  in  the  oldest  collection  of 
the  rules  of  the  Order  (in  the  Pali  Vinaya),  under 
the  head  of  '  Schism,'  a  chapter  is  devoted  to  the 
final  episode  in  Devadatta's  life.  Our  discussion 
of  the  matter  will  therefore  be  most  conveniently 
divided  into  :  (1)  the  Vinaya  account,  (2)  the 
isolated  passages  in  the  early  books  of  doctrine, 
and  (3)  the  later  notices. 

i.  The  Vinaya  account. — This  is  in  the  18th 
khandhalca  (chapter)  of  the  Sutta  Vibhahga,  relat- 
ing to  dissensions  in  the  Order.1  It  commences 
with  an  account  of  the  circumstances  under  which 
six  young  men  of  the  Sakya  clan,  one  of  whom  was 
Devadatta,  entered  the  Order  together. 

This  must  have  been  in  the  20th  year  of  the  Buddha'6  ministry, 
as  is  shown  by  a  comparison  of  Theragatha,  1039,  with  Vin.  '.  286. 
The  latter  passage  tells  us  that  Ananda  (one  of  the  six)  attained 
arhat-ehip  in  the  year  of  the  Buddha's  death  ;  the;  former  states 
that  he  had  been  25  years  in  the  Order  before  he  did  so.  Twenty- 
five  years  before  the  Buddha's  death  brings  us  to  the  20th  year 
of  his  ministry. 

Throughout  the  passage  in  question  the  details 
given  concern  the  others.  At  the  end  it  is  stated 
that,  whereas  each  of  the  other  five  soon  attained  to 
some  particular  stage  of  the  religious  life,  Devadatta 
attained  to  that  magic  power  and  charm  which  a 
worldly  man  may  have.2  There  follows  another 
episode  having  no  relation  to  Devadatta,  and  then 
a  third. 

As  usual,  no  intimation  is  given  as  to  whether  we  are  to 
suppose  any  interval  of  time  between  these  episodes,  but  the 
very  absence  of  continuity  in  the  narrative  would  seem  to  imply 
that  the  editors  supposed  that  there  was. 
The  third  episode  introduces  Devadatta  consider- 
ing whom  he  could  win  over  so  as  to  acquire  gain 
and  honour.  He  decides  on  Ajatasattu,  the  Crown 
Prince  of  Magadha,  and  accordingly  goes  there  and 
practises  his  magic  arts  upon  the  Prince.  These 
are  quite  successful ;  and  Devadatta,  dazed  with 
prosperity,  aspires  to  lead  the  Order.  This  is 
revealed  by  a  spirit  to  Moggallana,  who  informs 
the  Buddha ;  but  the  latter,  in  reply,  merely 
discusses  the  character  of  an  ideal  teacher.  He 
then  proceeds  to  Rajagaha,  where  the  brethren 
inform  him  of  Devadatta's  prosperity.  In  reply, 
the  Buddha  discourses  on  the  text  that  pride  goeth 
before  a  fall,  and  concludes  with  a  verse  on  honour 
ruining  the  mean  man.* 

In  the  next  episode  Devadatta  asks  the  Buddha, 
in  the  presence  of  the  king,  to  give  up  to  him  the 

1  Vin.  ii.  180fr.,  tr.  T.  W.  Rhys  Davids  and  H.  Oldenberg,  in 
Vinaya  Texts,  iii.  224  fl.  (SBE  xx.  [1885]). 

2  Pothujjanikd  iddhi.  On  the  exact  meaning  of  this  technical 
phrase,  see  the  passages  collected  and  discussed  by  the  present 
writer  in  Dialogues  of  the  Buddha,  i.  88,  273  ;  ii.  6. 

8  Vin.  ii.  188  ;  recurs  at  Anguttara,  ii.  73 ;  Saifiyutta,  i.  154. 
ii.  241  j  ililinda,  166 ;  Setti,  131. 


676 


DEVADATTA 


leadership  of  the  Order,  on  the  ground  that  the 
Buddha  is  now  an  old  man.  He  is  refused,  and  a 
formal  act  of  the  Chapter  of  the  Order  decrees  that 
in  future,  whatever  he  may  do,  Devadatta  shall  be 
considered  by  the  people  as  acting  or  speaking,  not 
as  a  member  of  the  Order,  but  for  himself  alone. 
Then  Devadatta  incites  the  Crown  Prince  to  kill 
his  father,  and  to  help  him  (Devadatta)  to  kill  the 
Buddha.  The  various  attempts,  all  of  which  are 
unsuccessful,  are  described  in  detail. 

There  follows  an  episode  in  which  Devadatta, 
with  four  adherents,  whose  names  are  given,  lays 
before  the  Buddha  live  points  to  be  incorporated  in 
the  rules  of  the  Order.  They  are  :  (1)  that  the 
bhikkhus  should  dwell  in  the  woods,  (2)  that  they 
should  live  entirely  by  begging,  (3)  that  their 
clothing  should  be  exclusively  made  of  cast-off 
rags,  (4)  that  they  should  sleep  under  trees,  and 
(5)  that  they  should  not  eat  fish  or  meat. 

The  existing;  rules  were  more  elastic  It  will  be  sufficient  here 
to  state  roughly  that :  (1)  bhikkhus  were  not  to  dwell  in  the 
woods  during  the  rainy  season — it  was  considered  unhealthy  ; 
at  other  seasons  they  might  wander  about,  or  dwell  in  hermitages 
in  hills  or  forests,  or  in  huts  put  up  for  them  in  parks,  or  the 
like  ;  the  only  restriction  was  that  they  should  not  dwell  in  the 
houses  of  the  laity  ;  (2)  they  might  beg,  or  accept  invitations,  or 
live  on  food  provided  at  the  residences  for  bhikkhus  ;  (3)  they 
might  receive  presents  of  clothing,  made  either  personally  to  one 
bhikkhu  or  generally  to  the  Order  ;  (4)  they  might  sleep  any- 
where except  in  houses  of  the  laity,  and  even  there  they  might 
stay  for  a  limited  period,  if  on  a  journey ;  (5)  they  might  accept 
any  food  given,  but  not  fish  or  flesh  if  specially  caught  or  killed 
for  the  purpose  of  the  meal.  The  five  points  recur  at  Vin. 
iii.  171,  and  are  therefore  probably  correct. 

The  five  points  were  rejected.  Devadatta  re- 
joiced, and  told  the  people  that,  whereas  Gautama 
and  his  bhikkhus  were  luxurious  and  lived  in  the 
enjoyment  of  abundance,  he  and  his  would  abide 
by  the  strict  rules  of  the  five  points.  Five  hundred 
of  the  younger  bhikkhus  accepted  tickets  that  he 
issued,  and  joined  his  party.  The  success  of  the 
schism  seemed  assured. 

The  following  and  final  episode  introduces  Deva- 
datta, surrounded  by  a  great  number  of  adherents, 
discoursing  on  his  doctrine.  Sariputta  and  Mog- 
gallana,  the  principal  disciples  of  Gautama,  are 
seen  approaching.  On  seeing  them,  Devadatta 
exults,  and,  in  spite  of  a  warning  from  Kokalika, 
he  bids  them  welcome,  and  they  take  their  seats. 
Devadatta  continues  his  conversational  discourse 
till  far  on  into  the  night.  Then,  feeling  tired,  he 
asks  Sariputta  to  lead  the  assembly  while  he  rests. 
Devadatta  falls  asleep.  Sariputta  leads  the  talk 
on  the  subject  of  preaching,  and  then  Moggallana 
leads  it  on  the  subject  of  iddhi.  Next  Sariputta 
suggests  that  those  who  approve  should  return  to 
the  Buddha,  and  most  of  the  assembly  do  so. 
Kokalika  awakes  Devadatta,  points  out  what  has 
happened,  and  says, '  I  warned  you. '  Then  hot  blood 
comes  forth  from  Devadatta's  mouth.  Sariputta, 
on  his  return,  proposes  that  the  renegades  who  had 
come  back  should  be  readmitted  to  the  Order. 
This  Gautama  declares  unnecessary,  and  the  chap- 
ter closes  with  edifying  discourse.  First,  we  have 
a  parable  of  elephants  who  ate  dirt  and  lost  their 
beauty  and  died.  Just  so  will  Devadatta  die. 
Then  the  eight  qualifications  of  one  worthy  to 
be  an  emissary  are  pointed  out.  Next,  the  eight 
qualifications  of  Devadatta,  which  doom  him  to 
remain  for  an  aeon  (kappa)  in  states  of  suffering 
and  woe,  are  given.  Finally,  another  paragraph 
gives  three  reasons  for  the  same  result. 

It  is  probable,  from  the  details,  that  the  eight  have  been 
elaborated  out  of  the  three,  no  doubt  to  make  Devadatta's  quali- 
fications parallel  in  number  with  those  of  Sariputta,  the  ideal 
emissary. 

2.  Isolated  passages. — In  Majjhima,  i.  192  a 
Suttanta  is  dated  as  having  been  delivered  shortly 
after  Devadatta  went  away.  Not  a  word  is  said 
abbut  him  ;  but  the  discourse  discusses  the  object 
of  religion,  which,  it  is  said,  should  be  cultivated, 
not  for  the  sake  of  gain  or  honour,  not  for  the  sake 


of  virtue,  not  for  the  sake  of  mystic  concentration, 
not  for  the  sake  of  knowledge,  '  but  has  its  mean- 
ing, its  essence,  its  ideal  in  emancipation  of  mind.' 
The  objects  here  rejected  are  precisely  those  for 
which,  in  the  Vinaya  passages,  Devadatta  is  said 
to  have  striven.  At  Majjhima,  i.  392,  a  Jain  is 
urged  to  put  Gautama  on  the  following  two-horned 
dilemma  (ubhato-kotikam  paiiham)  :  '  Do  you  say 
that  one  ought  to  speak  words  pleasant  to  others  ? 
If  so,  did  you  make  the  statement  about  the 
inevitable  fate  about  to  befall  Devadatta  ? '  The 
puzzle  is  easily  solved,  and  on  general  grounds 
(without  any  reference  at  all  to  Devadatta).  This 
passage  is  important,  because  it  shows  that,  before 
the  time  when  the  Dialogues  were  composed,  and 
a  fortiori  before  the  time  when  the  Vinaya  account 
arose,  the  episode  about  the  future  fate  of  Deva- 
datta was  already  in  existence,  and  was  widely 
known  in  the  community,  and  even  outside  of  it. 

The  Milinda  (p.  107  ff.)  has  a  greatly  altered  and  expanded 
version  of  this  '  double-horned  dilemma  ' ;  and  it  is  probable  that 
the  whole  of  the  dilemma  portion  of  that  interesting  work  is 
based  on  the  scheme  of  the  dilemma  in  this  Suttanta. 

The  Samyutta  (at  ii.  240-242)  has  the  episode  of 
honour  bringing  ruin  to  the  mean  man,  in  the  same 
words  as  Vin.  ii.  188,  but  divided  into  two  stories  ; 
and  at  i.  153  it  puts  the  concluding  verse  of  that 
episode  into  the  mouth  of  the  god  Brahma.  At 
ii.  156  Devadatta  and  his  followers  are  called  '  men 
of  evil  desire.'  In  four  passages1  the  Ahguttara 
has,  word  for  word,  episodes  occurring  in  the 
Vinaya  account.  Besides  those,  it  discusses  at 
iii.  402  the  statement  about  the  fate  that  will 
inevitably  befall  Devadatta ;  and  at  iv.  402  ff.  it 
discloses  a  view  held  by  Devadatta  that  it  was 
concentration  of  mind  (and  not  the  ethical  training 
of  the  '  Aryan  Path ')  that  made  a  man  an  arhat. 
This  is  the  only  one  of  these  isolated  passages  in 
the  oldest  books  which  really  adds  anything  to  our 
knowledge  of  Devadatta.  In  the  later  books  of 
the  Canon  there  are  two  or  three  more  references 
to  him.  Thus  the  episode  at  Vin.  ii.  198  recurs  at 
Udana,  v.  8,  and  that  at  Vin.  ii.  203  at  Iti-imttaka, 
no.  89,  and  at  Udana,  i.  5,  Devadatta's  name  is 
included  in  a  list  of  eleven  leaders  in  the  Order 
who  are  called  buddha,  '  awakened.'  This  is  the 
only  passage  in  the  Canon  which  speaks  of  Deva- 
datta with  approval ;  and  it  doubtless  refers  to  a 
period  before  the  schism.  Lastly,  in  Vin.  i.  115  it 
is  said  that  Devadatta,  before  the  rule  to  the  con- 
trary had  been  promulgated,  allowed  the  local 
chapter  of  the  Order,  when  the  Patimokkha  was 
being  recited,  to  be  attended  by  laymen. 

H.  Oldenberg  has  shown,  in  the  Introduction  to  his  edition  of 
the  Vinaya,  that  the  work,  as  we  now  have  it,  is  composed  of 
material  belonging  to  three  periods,  the  oldest  of  which  goes 
back  nearly,  if  not  quite,  to  the  time  of  the  Buddha.  The  chap- 
ter analyzed  above  belongs  to  the  latest  of  those  periods.  The 
episodes  found  also  in  other  parts  of  the  Canon  belong  to  the 
earliest  period.  The  summary  at  the  beginning  of  this  article  is 
based  exclusively  on  such  episodes. 

3.  The  later  notices. — In  books  later  than  the 
Canon,  the  above  story  of  Devadatta  is  often  told 
or  referred  to,  and  with  embellishments  which 
purport  to  add  details  not  found  in  the  earlier 
version.  Such  additional  details  must  be  regarded 
with  suspicion  :  many  are  insignificant,  some  are 
evidently  added  merely  to  heighten  the  edification 
of  the  narrative,  all  are  some  centuries  later  than 
the  alleged  facts  they,  for  the  first  time,  record. 
It  will  be  sufficient  to  mention  a  few  of  the  most 
striking. 

The  Mahavastu,  iii.  176,  and  the  Mahavamsa, 
ii.  21,  give  contradictory  accounts  of  Devadatta's 

Earentage.  Had  these  two  traditions  (the  one 
anded  down  in  the  Ganges  valley,  the  other  in 
Ceylon)  agreed,  the  evidence  might  have  been 
accepted.  The  Milinda  (at  p.  101)  states  that 
Devadatta  was  swallowed  up  by  the  earth  ;  and 
1  An.  ii.  73  =  Saih.  ii.  2tl=Vin.  ii.  18S;  An.  iii.  123=F»n.  ii. 
186  ;  An.  iv.  160  ;  and  again  164=  Vin.  ii.  202. 


DEVAYANA 


677 


(at  p.  Ill)  that,  at  the  moment  of  his  death,  he 
took  refuge  in  the  Buddha.  Both  traditions  were 
accepted  in  Ceylon  in  the  5th  cent.  A.D.  (see  the 
commentary  on  the  Dhammapada,  i.  147).  A  state- 
ment of  Fa  Hien  (Legge's  tr.,  p.  60)  shows  that  the 
first  of  these  traditions  was  still  current  in  India  at 
the  end  of  the  4th  cent.  A.D.  The  same  authority 
(p.  62)  tells  us  that  there  were  still,  at  that  time, 
followers  of  Devadatta  who  paid  honour  to  the 
three  previous  Buddhas,  hut  not  to  Gautama. 
This  is  possibly  confirmed  by  Yuan  Chwang,  more 
than  two  centuries  later,  and  in  another  locality  ; 
but  Watters  (ii.  191)  thinks  that  the  pilgrim  him- 
self may  have  supplied  the  name  Devadatta.  Yuan 
Chwang  elsewhere  (Watters,  i.  339)  credits  Deva- 
datta with  the  murder  of  the  nun  Uppala-vanna  ; 
but  we  have  no  confirmation  of  this  unlikely  story, 
and  it  depends  probably  on  a  Chinese  misunder- 
standing of  some  Indian  text.  We  have  two  5th 
cent,  biographies  of  Uppala-vanna,  and  it  occurs  in 
neither. 

Literature. — Vinaya,  ed.  Oldenberg,  London,  1879;  Rhys 
Davids  and  H.  Oldenberg,  Vinaya  Texts,  Oxford,  1881-86  (SBE 
xiii.,  xvii.,  xx.);  Theragdthd,  ed.  Oldenberg  and  Pischel  (PTS, 
1888) ;  Anguttara,  ed.  Morris  and  Hardy  (PTS,  1886-1900) ; 
Samyutta,  ed.  Leon  Feer  (PTS,  1884-1898) ;  Milinda-patlho,  ed. 
Trenckner,  London,  1880 ;  Netti,  ed.  E.  Hardy  (PTS,  1902) ; 
Rhys  Davids,  Questions  of  King  Milinda,  Oxford,  1890-94 
(SBE  xxxv.,  xxxvi.),  Dialogues  of  the  Buddha,  Oxford,  1899, 
1909  ;  Majjhima  Nikdya,  ed.  Trenckner  and  Chalmers  (PTS, 
1887-1902);  Iti-vuttaka,  ed.  Windisoh  (PTS,  1890),  and  tr.  J.  H. 
Moore,  New  York,  1908 ;  Mahavastu,  ed.  Senart,  Paris,  1897  ; 
Mahavamsa,  ed.  Geiger  (PTS,  1908) ;  Travels  of  Fa  Hien,  tr. 
J.  Legge,  Oxford,  1886 ;  T.  Watters,  On  Yuan  Chwang's  Travels 
in  India,  ed.  Rhys  Davids  and  S.  W.  Bushell,  London,  1904  ; 
Com.  on  the  Dhammapada,  ed.  H.  C.  Norman  (PTS,  1906).  See 
also  H.  Kern,  Manual  of  Indian  Buddhism,  Strassburg,  1896 
(  =  Q1AP  iii.  8),  pp.  16,  28,  38  ff.,  where  other  references  to  later 
notices  may  be  found.  T.  W.  RHYS  DAVIDS. 

DEVAYANA.  —  This  term  in  ancient  Vedic 
thought  and  speculation  denoted  the  path  or  paths 
leading  to  the  gods,  elsewhere  the  road  which  the 
gods  themselves  were  wont  to  traverse  in  their 
descent  or  ascent  between  heaven  and  earth.  In 
the  earliest  literature  of  India  it  formed  part  of  the 
recognized  terminology  of  the  priests  and  poets ; 
and  it  passed  through  a  long  course  of  development 
and  refinement,  during  which  it  gained  clearness 
of  definition,  and  was  brought  into  relation  with 
other  movements  of  religious  thought.  In  a  lower, 
more  literal,  and  mechanical  sense,  devayana  was 
also  the  car  or  vehicle  (ydna)  of  a  god ;  but  no 
special  significance  or  importance  seems  to  have 
attached  to  this  use  of  the  word.  The  correlative 
to  devayana,  '  the  way  of  the  gods,'  was  pitryana, 
'  the  way  of  the  fathers ' — a  term  which  assumed 
importance  only  in  the  later  speculation,  and  per- 
haps was  consciously  invented  on  the  analogy  of 
the  former  word,  to  express  an  inferior  path  or 
progress,  at  a  time  when  devayana  became  special- 
ized and  appropriated  to  the  conception  of  a  higher 
or  the  highest  degree  of  bliss. 

Hence  in  origin  at  least  both  terms  belong  to  a 
lower  stratum  or  form  of  religious  belief,  and  are 
conceived  in  a  material  or  semi-material  sense. 
The  term  pitryana  especially  answered  to  the 
primitive  and  wide-spread  conception  of  the  life 
after  death,  which  pictures  it  as  a  meagre  con- 
tinuation of  the  present,  reproducing  the  conditions 
and  occupations  of  a  worldly  existence,  where  the 
ancestors  dwell  in  weal  or  woe  according  to  their 
deserts,  but  where  all  is  more  or  less  unreal  and 
speculative,  and  the  prospect  exerts  no  determin- 
ing influence  on  the  actions  or  conduct  of  the 
present.  In  India,  however,  almost  from  the  very 
beginning,  the  term  devayana,  so  soon  as  it  was 
interpreted  in  the  human  sphere  of  the  fortunes 
and  destinies  of  men,  was  conceived  apparently  in 
a  higher  and  more  ethical  sense,  and  tor  the  most 
part  connoted  Divine  escort,  companionship,  or 
guardian  care,  on  a  road  which  had  its  termination 


in  a  paradise  of  blessedness  and  good  ;  the  elements 
and  conditions  of  which  conception  were  necessarily 
contributed  by  earthly  experiences,  and  the  plea- 
sures enjoyed  were  those  of  earth,  renewed,  how- 
ever, in  a  more  or  less  etherealized  and  exalted 
form  in  fellowship  with  beneficent  and  righteous 
gods.  The  travellers  by  the  pitryana  attained  only 
a  lower  goal,  where  the  superhuman  associates 
were  at  the  best  the  gods  of  the  lower  world,  but 
where  the  company  was  for  the  most  part  those 
mortal  men  who  had  preceded  them  on  the  path. 
These  all  shared  the  same  colourless  and  temporary 
existence,  from  which  they  eventually  returned  to 
tread  the  same  cycle  of  renewed  birth,  life,  and 
death,  in  this  world.  Thus  finally,  with  the  growth 
of  speculation  with  regard  to  the  future,  and  of  the 
consciousness  of  merit  and  demerit  attaching  to 
conduct  and  involving  reward  or  penalty,  the  ways 
of  the  gods  and  of  the  fathers  were  brought  into 
association  with  the  great  Indian  doctrines  of 
samsara,  'transmigration,'  and  inevitable  karma; 
and  were  incorporated  into  the  rich  store  of  Indian 
beliefs  that  had  reference  to  the  life  beyond  the 
grave. 

The  earliest  conception  of  a  '  path  of  the  gods ' 
is  to  be  found  in  the  hymns  of  the  Rigveda.  There 
apparently  it  is  always  associated  with  Agni,  the 
divine  priest  and  intermediary  between  gods  and 
men.  Agni — both  the  sacrificer  and  the  sacrificial 
flame — bears  the  offerings  to  the  gods,  and  conducts 
the  gods  to  receive  the  offerings  which  are  prepared 
for  them.  He  knows  the  path  that  leads  to  the 
gods,  and  is  the  messenger  and  guide  thereon  : 

'  Knowing  the  ways  by  which  the  gods  go,  thou  (Agni)  hast 
become  the  unwearied  messenger,  the  bearer  of  oblations.'1 

The  path  trodden  by  the  gods,  and  on  which  the 
sacrifices  were  borne  to  the  heavenly  world,  became 
later  the  road  by  which  the  sacrificer  himself 
ascended  to  the  company  of  the  gods.  This  ex- 
tension or  development  of  the  thought  of  the 
devayana  was  early  made,  probably  in  connexion 
with  the  practice  of  burning  the  dead.  The  soul, 
released  from  the  body,  which  was  consumed  by 
the  fire  and  returned  to  its  earthly  elements,  was 
carried  on  high  in  the  smoke  and  flame,  on  a  fiery 
path  whereon  was  consummated  that  purification 
from  earthly  taint  which  the  fires  of  the  funeral 
pyre  had  begun. 

Sat.  Brdhm.  i.  9.  3.  2 :  '  That  same  path  2  leads  either  to  the 
gods  or  to  the  fathers.  On  both  sides  two  flames  are  ever  burn- 
ing ;  they  scorch  him  who  deserves  to  be  scorched,  and  allow 
him  to  pass  who  deserves  to  pass.' 

The  way  was  thus  prepared  for  the  philosophical 
development  which  the  doctrine  received  in  the 
Upanisads  and  later  systems  of  Indian  thought  and 
teaching.  The  purification  which  the  soul  under- 
went to  fit  it  for  the  communion  and  company  of 
the  gods  was  conceived  as  a  process  not  completed 
in  one  act  or  at  one  time,  but  carried  on  through  a 
series  of  graduated  stages  or  degrees ;  and  it  was 
only  at  its  close  that  the  emancipated  soul  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  fullness  of  bliss. 

The  earliest  enumeration  of  the  '  stations '  on  the 
two  paths  is  found  in  the  Chhdndogya  Upanisad 
(v.  10.  1): 

'  Those  who  know  this  (i.e.  the  so-called  doctrine  of  the  five 

fres,  and  the  fate  of  men  after  death,  with  regard  to  which 
vetaketu  Aruneya  has  been  obliged  to  confess  ignorance  [v. 
3.  1-6]),  and  those  who  in  the  forest  follow  faith  and  austerities 
(vanaprastha)  enter  into  the  flame,  from  the  flame  to  the  day, 
from  the  day  to  the  bright  half  of  the  month,  from  the  bright 
half  of  the  month  to  the  six  months  of  the  sun's  northward 
movement,  from  the  six  months  to  the  year,  from  the  year  to 
the  sun,  from  the  sun  to  the  moon,  from  the  moon  to  the 
lightning.' 

Thence  they  are  led  to  Brahman ;  and  it  is  further 

1  Eigv.  i.  72.  7,  cf.  ii.  2.  4  f.,  al. ;  Atharv.  iii.  15.  2,  etc.  ;  and, 
for  the  paths  between  heaven  and  earth,  which  Agni  knows 
(Rigv.  vi.  16.  3,  x.  98.  11,  etc.),  see  Macdonell,  Vedic  Mythology, 
Strassburg,  1897,  p.  S8ff. 

2  i.e.  the  funeral  fire  ;  see  SBE  xii.  267  and  note  ;  and  cf.  Sat 
Brahm.  xiii.  8.  3.  4. 


678 


DBVAYANA 


explained  that  this  is  the  way  of  the  gods,  from 
which  there  is  no  return  (cf.  iv.  15.  5) : 

'  But  they  who  living  in  a  village  (grhastha)  practise  sacrifices 
and  almsgiving,  enter  into  the  smoke,  from  the  smoke  to  the 
night,  from  the  night  to  the  dark  half  of  the  month,  from  the 
dark  half  of  the  month  to  the  six  months  of  the  sun's  southward 
movement.  But  they  do  not  reach  the  year.  From  the  months 
they  go  to  the  world  of  the  fathers,  from  the  world  of  the  fathers 
to  the  ether,  from  the  ether  to  the  moon.  .  .  .  Having  dwelt 
there  as  long  as  a  remnant  (of  good  works)  yet  exists  (yavat 
sampdtam,  "till  their  good  works  are  consumed"  [Miiller]), 
they  return  again,  by  that  way  by  which  they  came,  to  the  ether, 
from  the  ether  to  the  wind.  Having  become  wind,  the  sacri- 
ficer  becomes  smoke  ;  having  become  smoke,  he  becomes  mist ; 
having  become  mist,  he  becomes  cloud ;  having  become  cloud,  he 
rains  down.  Then  is  he  born  as  rice  and  corn,  herbs  and  trees, 
sesamum  and  beans.  Thence  the  escape  is  beset  with  most  diffi- 
culties. .  .  .  Those  whose  conduct  has  been  good  will  quickly 
attain  some  good  birth,  the  birth  of  a  Brahman,  or  a  Ksatriya, 
or  a  Vaisya ;  but  those  whose  conduct  has  been  evil  will  quickly 
attain  an  evil  birth,  the  birth  of  a  dog  or  a  hog  or  a  Ohandala ' 
(v.  10.  3-7). 

The  same  description,  with  minor  variations  and 
in  a  somewhat  briefer  form,  recurs  in  Brhad.  Up. 
vi.  2.  15  f .  For  the  year,  however,  on  the  devayana 
is  substituted  the  Devaloka, '  the  world  of  the  gods. ' 
In  the  stations  of  the  pitryana  the  ether  is  omitted, 
and  progress  is  made  direct  from  the  world  of  the 
fathers  to  the  moon.  The  omission,  however,  is 
apparently  merely  accidental ;  for,  when  the  merit 
of  their  good  works  is  exhausted,  they  are  said  to 
return  again  to  the  ether,  from  the  ether  to  the  air, 
from  the  air  to  the  rain,  from  the  rain  to  the  earth. 

1  And  when  they  have  reached  the  earth  they  become  food, 
they  are  offered  again  in  the  fire  of  man,  and  thence  are  born 
in  the  fire  of  woman.  Thus  they  rise  up  towards  the  worlds, 
and  go  the  same  round  as  before.' 

It  is  not  easy  to  determine  which  of  these  two 
versions  is  the  earlier.  They  are  probably  to  be 
traced  back  to  a  common  original,  which  has  been 
slightly  modified  in  the  course  of  transmission  in 
different  schools  of  Vedic  learning.  The  form  of 
the  Brkadaranyaka  most  closely  and  formally 
identifies  itself  with  the  doctrine  of  transmigration 
and  the  theory  of  a  satisfaction  rendered  upon  earth 
for  all  past  deeds,  after  which  a  new  career  is 
entered  upon.  There  underlies  both,  however,  the 
ancient  Vedic  conception  of  retribution  or  felicity 
after  death,  in  another  world,  from  which  there  was 
no  necessary  return  to  an  existence  upon  earth — a 
conception  which  was  more  or  less  definitely  com- 
bined with  and  accommodated  to  the  teaching  with 
regard  to  a  new  life  upon  earth.  The  latter,  in  its 
origin  at  least,  was  probably  derived  from  external 
sources,  but  was  adopted  into  the  Brahmanical 
system  and  elaborated  in  the  philosophical  schools 
(see  artt.  Transmigration,  Upanisads). 

In  the  later  literature  also  reference  is  frequently 
made  to  the  two  paths,  and  the  essential  difference 
between  them  is  emphasized,  viz.  that  of  a  per- 
manent or  a  merely  temporary  deliverance  from 
the  conditions  of  an  earthly  life,  e.g.  Bhag.-Gita, 
viii.  23-26 : 

'  I  will  declare  the  time,  O  descendant  of  Bharata,  at  which 
devotees  (yogin)  departing  from  this  world  go,  never  to  return 
or  to  return.  The  fire,  the  flame,  the  day,  the  bright  fortnight, 
the  six  months  of  the  sun's  northern  movement,  departing  in 
these,  those  who  know  the  Brahman  go  to  the  Brahman.  Smoke, 
night,  the  dark  fortnight,  the  six  months  of  the  sun's  southern 
movement,  departing  in  these,  the  devotee  attains  the  lunar 
light  and  returns.  These  two  paths,  the  bright  and  the  dark, 
are  deemed  to  be  eternal  in  this  world.  By  the  one  a  man  goes 
never  to  return,  by  the  other  he  returns  again.'  Cf.  PraGna 
Up.  i.  9, 10,  where  the  paths  are  termed  southern  and  northern ; 
Mwu4.  Up.  i.  2.  10,  11,  iii.  1.  6 ;  Anug.  20  (SEE  viii.  814, 
316),  etc. 

It  is  evident  that  the  stations  themselves  are  arti- 
ficial, and  are  made  artificially  to  correspond,  those 
of  the  devayana  indicating  regions  of  progressive 
knowledge  and  light,  those  of  the  pitryana  succes- 
sive regions  of  darkness  and  decay.  Occasionally, 
in  passages  which  are  probably  later  and  prompted 
by  individual  speculation  or  fancy,  other  stations 
are  added  or  substituted  for  those  of  the  Brhad.  or 
Chhand.  ;  e.g.  in  Kaud.  Up.  i.  3,  from  the  fire,  the 
world  of  Agni,  the  path  of  the  gods  leads  through  ' 


the  world  of  Vayu  (wind,  air)  to  the  world  of  Varuna, 
and  thence  through  the  worlds  of  Indra  and  Praja- 
pati  to  the  world  of  Brahman. 

The  same  Upanisad  essays  an  explanation  of  the 
fact  that  the  moon  appears  as  a  station  on  both 
paths.  On  the  devayana  it  occupies  a  place  beyond 
the  sun,  intermediary  between  that  and  the  light- 
ning, but  is  in  no  way  distinguished  from  the  other 
stations.  On  the  pitryana,  however,  it  is  the  final 
resting-place,  or  place  of  sojourn,  from  which  the 
return  to  earth  begins.  The  author  of  the  Kaui.  Up. 
appears  to  regard  the  moon  as  a  testing-place  or 
opportunity  of  trial,  the  future  being  determined 
by  the  degree  of  knowledge  which  the  disembodied 
soul  is  proved  to  possess.  The  wise  find  a  per- 
manent home  ;  the  ignorant  are  dismissed  to  a  new 
earthly  existence  which  is  graduated  according  to 
their  deserts.1  That  all  souls  after  death  are  re- 
ceived into  the  moon  is  an  ancient  and  widely 
accepted  view,  and  probably  accounts  for  the  posi- 
tion which  the  moon  occupies  as  a  station  common 
to  the  two  paths. 

Provision  is  also  made  for  those  who  are  ignorant 
of  the  ways,  i.e.  for  out-castes  who  have  no  know- 
ledge of  the  gods  and  no  capacity  or  right  to  study 
the  scriptures.  Elsewhere,  however,  this  'third 
place '  appears  to  be  conceived  as  a  lot  of  punish- 
ment or  degradation  reserved  for  the  wicked.  To 
the  philosophical  thought  of  India  the  two  concep- 
tions are  not  incompatible,  and  the  latter,'  indeed, 
is  almost  necessarily  an  accompaniment  of  the 
former. 

'  Those  who  know  neither  of  these  paths  become  worms,  birds, 
and  biting  things.' 2 

A  further  question  much  discussed  had  reference  to 
the  qualifications  necessary  for  those  who  on  the 
higher  path  attain  to  light  and  immortality.  The 
primary  qualification  was  universally  admitted  to 
be  knowledge,  i.e.  knowledge  of  the  supreme  or 
Brahman.  Difference  of  opinion,  however,  appears 
to  have  existed  on  the  one  question  as  to  the  degree 
of  knowledge  the  possession  of  which  would  admit 
to  the  devayana.  With  regard  to  those  who  have 
lived  in  the  two  last  airamas  as  vanaprasthas  or 
sannyasins,  there  is  no  doubt :  they  tread  the  path 
of  the  gods.  In  the  case  of  grhasthas  the  Chh&nd. 
Up.  appears  to  draw  a  distinction  between  those 
who  know  the  secret  doctrine  of  the  five  fires,  and 
those  whose  life  proceeds  in  the  routine  of  ordinary 
sacrifices.  The  former  after  death  go  to  the  flame, 
etc.,  and  finally  reach  Brahman.  The  latter  are 
destined  for  the  pitryana  and  a  return  to  earth. 
The  brahmachann,  in  a  state  of  pupilage,  to  whom 
the  knowledge  of  the  Brahman  nad  not  yet  been 
communicated,  was  naturally  excluded  from  the 
highest  path.  A  later  representation,  perhaps  more 
liberally  inspired,  or  to  which  the  conception  of 
the  sphere  of  the  brahmacharin's  life  had  become 
definitely  widened,  conceded  this  also,  and,  entirely 
in  harmony  with  later  developments  of  thought, 
laid  the  emphasis  not  on  status,  but  on  behaviour 
and  a  life  or  meditation  and  devotion.8 

1  KauG.  1.  2.  The  passage  is  difficult,  and  perhaps  corrupt. 
Max  Miiller  renders :  '  All  who  depart  from  this  world  go  to  the 
moon.  In  the  former  (the  bright)  half,  the  moon  delights  in 
their  spirits  ;  in  the  other  (the  dark)  half,  the  moon  sends  them 
on  to  be  born  again.  Verily,  the  moon  is  the  door  of  the  Svarga 
(heavenly)  world.  Now,  if  a  man  objects  to  the  moon  (is  not 
satisfied  with  life  there),  the  moon  sets  him  free.  But,  if  a  man 
does  not  object,  then  the  moon  sends  him  down  as  rain  upon 
this  earth,'  etc.  (SBE  L  273  f. ;  cf.  Deussen,  Sechzig  Upanishads, 
Leipzig,  1897,  p.  24). 

2  Brhad.  Up.  vi.  2.  16,  cf.  Chdnd.  v.  10.  7  f.,  Sankara  on  Ved. 
Sut.  iii.  1. 18,  who  explains  that,  in  the  case  of  those  who  are 
destined  for  the  '  third  place,'  the  appropriate  sacrifices  have 
not  been  offered,  and  therefore  they  return  to  life  in  new  bodies 
which  are  constituted  from  inferior  ingredients  (SBE  xxxviii. 
123-25,  cf.  121  f.). 

s  Anug.  31.  7  f.  :  'a  Brahmacbarin  .  .  .  who  is  thus  devoted, 
who  is  concentrated  in  mind  and  continent,  conquers  heaven, 
and  reaching  the  highest  seat  does  not  return  to  birth ' ;  cf. 
Ramanuja  on  Ved.  Sut.  iii.  3.  32,  who  declares  that  all  those  who 
practise  meditation  proceed  on  the  path  of  the  gods,  without 


DEVELOPMENT  (Biological) 


679 


The  same  question  of  qualifications  for  the  higher 
path,  the  path  that  led  to  Brahman  without  return, 
was  considered  in  relation  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
yoga  (q.v.).  Bhag.-Gita,  viii.  24 f.  appears  to  sug- 
gest that  the  immediate  destiny  of  the  yogin,  or 
ascetic,  depends  upon  the  time  of  death,  whether 
in  the  light  or  dark  half  of  the  year,  the  northern 
or  southern  progress  of  the  sun  {SBE  viii.  80  f.). 
Ramanuja,  however,  rejects  this  inference,  and 
asserts  that  the  text  enjoins  on  all  yogins  the  duty 
of  daily  meditation  on  the  two  paths,  quoting  in 
proof  of  his  contention  the  words  that  follow  :  '  no 
yogin  who  knows  these  two  paths  is  deluded '  (ib. 
viii.  27).  The  text,  therefore,  has  no  reference  to 
the  time  or  season  of  the  year  at  which  death  takes 
place  (SBE  xlviii.  472 f.). 

A  further  and  final  development  of  doctrine  took 
place  in  harmony  with  the  teaching  of  the  Vedanta, 
and  the  importance  attached  to  knowledge  of  the 
highest  Brahman,  the  supreme  knowledge  {para 
vidya),  as  the  one  avenue  of  escape  from  attachment 
to  the  world  and  the  possibilities  of  re-birth.  Those, 
on  the  other  hand,  who  were  possessed  only  of  the 
lower  degree  of  knowledge  (apara  vidya),  the 
knowledge  of  the  Brahman  saguna  ('  endowed  with 
qualities '),  were  still  entangled  in  the  snares  of 
delusion,  and  liable  after  death  to  a  return  to  earth. 
It  became,  then,  necessary  to  find  a  link  of  connexion 
between  the  new  metaphysics  which  exalted  the 
secret  esoteric  wisdom,  and  the  older  authoritative 
teaching  of  the  two  ways.  It  was  not  possible, 
however,  to  deny  that  those  who  possessed  a  know- 
ledge of  Brahman  even  in  an  inferior  degree  de- 
parted on  the  devayana,  the  path  of  the  gods,  or 
to  consign  them  to  a  lower  destiny ;  for  all  such 
the  scripture  declared  that  there  was  no  return. 
A  solution  of  the  difficulty  was  found  in  the  doc- 
trine of  the  kramamukti,  '  emancipation  by  steps 
or  stages.'  The  question  is  discussed  by  Sankara 
on  Ved.  Silt.  iii.  3.  29  {SBE  xxxviii.  231-235  ;  cf.  ib. 
124  f.),  where  he  explains  that  a  twofold  meaning 
underlies  the  phrase  '  going  on  the  path  of  the  gods.' 
In  the  case  of  those  possessed  of  the  highest  know- 
ledge, the  knowledge  of  the  unqualified  Brahman 
(nirguna),  it  is  a  mere  phrase  ;  for  they  are  already 
in  union  with  Brahman,  and  have  no  need  to  move 
on  any  path  to  reach  that  end.  But  all  who  have 
only  the  knowledge  of  the  qualified  Brahman 
{saguna)  advance  on  that  road.  And,  since  it  is 
said  that  they  attain  to  Brahman  and  do  not  return, 
it  must  be  that  in  union  with  the  {saguna)  Brahman 
they  eventually  win  perfect  enlightenment  and 
gain  the  highest  knowledge.  During  this  period 
of  probation  and  imperfect  knowledge  the  soul  is 
in  possession  of  complete  bliss  and  unrestrained 
capacities  of  will  power,  etc.  (aisvarya).  As 
it  approaches  the  highest  light,  it  finds  itself, 
assumes  a  '  new  form,'  and  is  truly  and  finally  set 
free.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  the  kramamukti.  And 
it  is  further  explained  that  all  thus  enter  into 
absolute  and  final  emancipation  at  the  end  of  the 
world-cycle.1 

A  variety  of  the  teaching  concerning  the  paths, 
which  is  merely  an  elaboration  of  the  doctrine  of 
the  two  roads,  and  remained  without  further  sig- 
nificance or  development,  postulated  four  paths 
from  earth  to  the  gods,  which  were  explained  as 
corresponding  to  four  forms  of  sacrifice.     Both  the 

restriction  (SBE  xlviii.  650-662);  also  on  iii.  1, 17f.,iv.  3.  Iff., 
where  the  two  paths  are  discussed,  and  are  said  to  be  dependent 
respectively  on  knowledge  and  works  (SBE  xlviii.  694  f.,  744  ff.) ; 
see  also  Sankara,  locc.  eitt. 

1  Cf.  also  Ramanuja  on  Ved.  Sut.  iv.  4. 1  f.  (SBE  xlviii.  755  ff.) ; 
Deussen,  Allg.  Gesch.  d.  Philos.,  Leipzig,  1908,  i.  3.  p.  608  ff.  The 
Svetafrvatara  Upanisad  contains  a  suggestion  or  pre-intimation 
of  the  same  theory  :  '  When  that  god  is  known,  all  fetters  fall 
off,  sufferings  are  destroyed,  and  birth  and  death  cease.  From 
meditating  on  him  there  arises,  on  the  dissolution  of  the  body, 
the  third  state,  that  of  universal  lordship  (aisvarya) ;  but  he 
only  who  is  alone  is  satisfied '  (Svet.  Up.  i.  11). 


reference  and  the  interpretation  are  given  by 
Baudhayana : 

'Some  teach  a  fourfold  division  of  these  sacred  duties.  The 
text,  however,  "  Four  paths,"  etc.  (Taitt.  Saihh.  v.  7.  2.  3)  refers 
to  sacrificial  rites,  itffis,  animal  and  Soma  sacrifices,  and 
darvihomas  (offerings  made  with  a  darvi,  or  sacred  ladle).  The 
following  declares  that  "  Four  paths,  leading  to  the  world  of  the 
godB,  go  severally  from  the  earth  to  heaven  " '  (Baudhay.  ii.  6. 
9fl.,  cf.  29 ;  Apast.  ii.  9.  23.  6). 

The  context  suggests  that  the  conception  of  the 
four  paths  is  not  unconnected  with  the  doctrine  of 
the  four  airamas. 

An  isolated  passage  in  the  Bfhad.  Up.  (iv.  4.  9) 
describes  the  path  to  the  Svargaloka  as  marked  out 
in  varied  colours : 

'  On  that  path  (to  the  Svargaloka)  they  say  that  there  is  white 
or  blue  or  yellow  or  green  or  red ;  that  path  was  found  by 
Brahman,  and  on  it  goes  whoever  knows  Brahman,  and  who 
has  done  good,  and  obtained  splendour.' 

The  colours  are  the  same  as  those  of  the  veins  (hita ; 
ib.  iv.  3.  20),  and  the  conception  has  therefore  in 
all  probability  a  physiological  basis.  Neither  in 
this  instance,  however,  nor  in  that  of  the  four  paths 
of  the  Taitt.  Samh.  and  Baudhayana  was  any  infer- 
ence drawn  or  further  development  sought.  And 
it  remains  doubtful  how  far  any  connexion  is  to  be 
traced  between  the  ideas  underlying  these  texts 
and  the  formal  doctrine  of  the  devayana. 

Parallels  to  the  latter  doctrine  of  roads  traced 
out  between  earth  and  heaven  by  which  the  dead 
souls  pass  and  repass  are  to  be  found  in  many  of 
the  religions  of  the  nearer  and  further  East.  They 
are  present  in  the  eschatological  teaching  especially 
of  Babylon  and  Egypt.1  Similar  conceptions  are 
presupposed  in  the  dream  of  Jacob  (Gn  2812  ff-).2 
Lttsratueb. — This  is  indicated  in  the  article. 

A.  S.  Geden. 

DEVELOPMENT  (Biological).— Development 
is  the  '  becoming '  of  the  individual  organism,  the 
attainment  of  a  specific  form  and  structure,  and 
of  the  not  less  characteristic  associated  faculties. 
The  starting-point  is  usually  a  fertilized  egg-cell — 
a  new  unity  formed  from  the  intimate  and  orderly 
combination  of  paternal  and  maternal  inheritances. 
The  fertilized  ovum  divides  and  re-divides,  the 
daughter-cells  or  blastomeres  are  arranged  in  ger- 
minal layers,  differentiation  sets  in,  and  an  embryo 
is  built  up.  This  is  embryonic  development.  At 
a  certain  stage,  differing  greatly  in  the  different 
types,  the  egg  is  '  hatched,'  and  the  embryo  emerges 
from  the  egg-envelope — sometimes  like  a  miniature 
of  the  adult,  as  in  the  case  of  a  chicken  ;  sometimes 
very  unlike  the  adult  and  adapted  to  a  different 
kind  of  life,  as  in  the  case  of  caterpillar  and  tad- 
pole. Thus  there  may  be  a  larval  development 
The  embryo  is  the  quiescent  stage  within  the  egg 
membrane ;  the  larva  is  free-living  and  able  to 
feed  for  itself.  As  long  as  the  realization  or  ex- 
pression of  the  inheritance  goes  on,  as  long  as 
differentiation  and  integration  continue,  we  may 
speak  of  development,  but  mere  increase  in  size  is 
not  development,  and  it  is  very  difficult  to  decide 
where  to  put  in  the  stop.  Thus  some  would  say 
that  development  includes  all  the  normal  changes 
of  form  and  structure  that  occur  throughout  life,  and 
that  the  breaking-down  in  old  age  is  as  much  part 
of  development  as  the  building-up  in  youth.  Others 
put  in  the  stop  when  the  limit  of  growth  is  reached, 
but  the  brain  may  go  on  developing  long  after  that, 
though  in  mammals  there  seems  to  be  no  increase 
in  the  number  of  brain-cells  after  birth.  More- 
over, there  are  many  fishes  and  reptiles  that  show 
no  limit  of  growth.  Others,  again,  put  in  the  stop 
when  the  specific  characters  begin  to  be  well 
defined,  but  that  would  exclude  much  that  can  be 
fairly  called  development,  e.g.  the  changes  associ- 

1  See,  e.g.,  F.  Cumont,  Les  Religions  orientates,  1906,  p.  152  f., 
and  the  references  there  given ;  E.  A.  Wallis  Budge,  Egyptian 
Heaven  and  Hell,  London,  1905,  passim,  etc. 

3  Cf.  A.  Jeremias,  Das  AT  im  Lichte  des  alien  Orients* 
Leipzig,  1906,  p.  372  ff. 


680 


DEVELOPMENT  (Biological) 


ated  with  sexual  maturity.  The  fact  is  that,  in 
studying  development,  we  are  considering  the 
living  creature  in  its  time-relations,  and  defini- 
tion is  a  matter  of  convenience.  In  the  present 
article  we  propose  to  restrict  ourselves  for  the 
most  part  to  the  problems  of  embryonic  develop- 
ment. 

Let  us  state  very  briefly  some  of  the  outstanding 
facts  of  development.  We  know  that  the  germ- 
cells,  and  their  nuclei  in  particular,  form  the 
physical  basis  of  inheritance — the  means,  at  least, 
of  development ;  that  a  genetic  continuity  is  kept 
up  from  generation  to  generation  by  a  lineage  of 
unspecialized  germ-cells,  which  do  not  share  in 
body-making  ;  that  this  accounts  for  like  tending 
to  beget  like  ;  that  fertilization  implies  an  intimate 
and  orderly  union  of  two  individualities,  condensed 
and  integrated  for  the  time  being  in  the  ovum  and 
the  spermatozoon  ;  that  the  spermatozoon,  besides 
being  the  bearer  of  the  paternal  half  of  the  inherit- 
ance, acts  as  a  liberating  stimulus  to  the  ovum,  and 
introduces  into  the  ovum  a  peculiar  little  body, 
the  centrosome,  which  plays  an  important  part  in 
the  subsequent  division  of  the  fertilized  egg-cell. 
We  know  that  the  mode  of  all  development  is  by 
the  division  of  nuclei  and  the  segregation  of  the 
living  matter  into  unit-areas  or  cells,  each  pre- 
sided over  by  a  nucleus  ;  that  differentiation  comes 
about  very  gradually,  the  obviously  complex 
slowly  arising  out  of  the  apparently  simple  ;  that 
paternal  and  maternal  characteristics — so  far  as 
the  nuclei  of  the  germ-cells  bear  these — are  dis- 
tributed in  exact  equality  by  the  nuclear  or  cellular 
divisions,  and  that  the  paternal  and  maternal  con- 
tributions thus  form  the  warp  and  woof  of  the  web 
which  we  call  the  organism,  though  the  expression 
or  realization  of  the  bi-parental  heritage  varies 
greatly  in  individual  cases.  In  many  cases  the 
parental  contributions  seem  to  include  ancestral 
items  which  may  find  expression  in  development 
or  may  lie  latent.  We  know  that  development  is 
a  regular  sequence  of  events  which  requires,  stage 
by  stage,  an  appropriate  external  environment ; 
that  there  are  continual  interactions  between  the 
developing  organism  and  its  environment ;  and 
that  there  are  continual  mutual  adjustments  of  the 
different  constituents  of  the  developing  organism. 
In  certain  aspects  the  development  appears  like  the 
building-up  of  a  mosaic  out  of  many  independently 
heritable  and  independently  developable  parts ;  in 
other  aspects  it  appears  as  the  expression  of  an 
integrated  unity,  with  subtle  correlations  between 
the  parts,  and  with  remarkable  regulative  processes 
working  towards  an  unconsciously  predetermined 
end.  We  know  also  that  in  a  general  way  the  in- 
dividual development  of  organs  often  progresses 
from  stage  to  stage  in  a  manner  which  suggests  a 
recapitulation  of  the  steps  in  the  presumed  racial 
evolution. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  data  for  the  study 
of  development  are  threefold,  viz.  (as)  embryo- 
logists  have  worked  out  the  sequence  of  stages  in 
the  development  of  a  large  number  of  types  ;  (6) 
experimentalists  have  shown  in  a  variety  of  in- 
stances that  particular  changes  in  the  external 
conditions  are  followed  by  particular  changes  in 
the  developing  organism ;  and  (c)  students  of 
heredity  have  distinguished  various  modes  of  in- 
heritance which  obtain,  such  as  '  blended '  and 
'  Mendelian.'  The  facts  known  in  regard  to  de- 
velopment are  many  and  various,  as  we  have 
briefly  indicated,  and  they  are  continuously  in- 
creasing in  precision  and  penetration  ;  yet  it  seems 
doubtful  whether  we  have  got  much  nearer  an 
understanding  of  development  since  the  days  of 
Aristotle,  to  whom  facts  were  so  few.  It  seems  as 
if  his  de  Generatione  remained  the  most  important 
contribution  to  the  subject.     How  Jittle  light  we 


have  that  he  had  not  in  regard  to  the  deep  problems 
of  development,  such  as  those  suggested  by  the 
following  questions :  How  are  the  heritable  char- 
acteristics of  the  race  summed  up  potentially  within 
the  minute  germ-cells  ?  How  do  they  gradually 
find  expression  in  the  individual  development,  so 
that  what  we  call  differentiation  results?  What 
is  the  nature  of  the  compelling  necessity  that 
mints  and  coins  the  chick  out  of  a  drop  of  living 
matter?  What  is  the  regulative  principle  of  the 
ordered  progress  which,  by  intricate  and  often 
strangely  circuitous  paths,  leads  to  the  folly- 
formed  organism  ? 

From  reflexion  on  these  general  questions  the 
scientific  mind  always  turns,  sometimes  too  quickly, 
to  concrete  investigation,  it  may  be  of  the  humblest 
sort,  with  the  results  of  which  the  theory  of  de- 
velopment must  be  consistent.  Thus  there  are 
numerous  inquiries  into  the  external  factors  of 
development,  such  as  light,  temperature,  oxygen, 
osmotic  pressure,  and  the  chemical  composition  of 
the  medium.  Experiments  are  devised  which  alter 
or  remove  one  factor  at  a  time,  and  the  significance 
of  the  factor  is  inferred  from  the  resulting  changes, 
transient  or  permanent,  in  the  developing  organism. 
It  appears  that  each  germ  is  adapted  to  develop  in 
an  appropriate  environment,  that  changes  in  this 
environment  may  occur  without  permanent  pre- 
judicial effects  on  the  organism,  but  ■  that  the 
latitude  of  endurable  change  varies  greatly  for 
different  types,  some  being  much  less  plastic  than 
others.  It  appears  that  some  of  the  environmental 
factors,  like  oxygen  and  water,  are  analogous  to 
nutrition  ;  that  others,  like  the  osmotic  pressure  or 
the  presence  of  calcium  salts  in  the  water,  are 
conditions  of  embryonic  coherence ;  that  others, 
like  light  and  heat,  are  accelerants  and  inhibitants  ; 
and  that  particular  combinations  of  factors  are  re- 
quired as  the  '  liberating  stimuli '  of  particular 
characters  in  the  developing  organism.  It  does 
not  appear,  however,  that  we  can  speak  of  the 
environmental  factors  as  being  in  any  other  sense 
directive. 

A  second  kind  of  inquiry  asks,  What  in  point  of 
fact  goes  on  in  the  development  of  the  fertilized 
egg-cell  ?  We  know  that  there  is  an  expression  of 
the  inheritance  :  that  is  just  another  spelling  of  the 
word  development ;  but  what  processes  are  known 
to  occur?  This  is  an  inquiry  into  the  physi- 
ology of  development,  which  is  still  a  very 
young  department  of  science,  too  young  for  safe 
generalization.  It  is  also  difficult  to  disentangle 
the  physiology  of  growth  from  that  of  develop- 
ment, yet  every  one  is  agreed  that  mere  growth  is 
not  development.  What  processes  are  known  to 
occur?  (a)  We  know  of  various  sets  of  chemical 
changes  significant  in  different  ways.  Thus,  to 
cite  three  different  cases,  the  fermentative  changes 
in  seeds  make  the  legacy  of  nutritive  reserves 
available ;  the  anabolic  formation  of  nuclein-sub- 
stances  seems  to  bring  about  cell-division  ;  the 
diffusion  of  the  products  of  internal  secretion 
certainly  affords  the  liberating  stimulus  to  certain 
previously  unexpressed  parts  of  the  inheritance, 
for  instance  in  adolescence.  (6)  We  know  also  of 
a  continuous  succession  of  celi-divisions.  That, 
indeed,  is  how  all  development  goes  on.  The 
original  idea  of  Roux,  that  there  is  qualitative 
nuclear  division,  shuffling  the  pack  of  inherited 
qualities,  has  been  given  up  in  favour  of  a  more 
plausible  view  suggested  below,  (c)  We  also  know 
a  little  of  even  subtler  processes — of  protoplasmic 
movements  within  the  developing  germ,  and  of  ap- 
parent attractions  towards  specific  parts,  (d)  There 
are  also  phenomena  of  surface-tension  and  capil- 
larity, etc.,  which  seem  to  be  rather  parts  of  the 
vital  machinery  of  growing  than  implicated  in  the 
essential  secret  of  progressive  differentiation. 


DEVELOPMENT  (Mental) 


681 


A  third  line  of  investigation  concerns  the  initial 
structure  of  the  germ,  and  one  result  stands  out — 
that  in  many  cases  the  egg-cell  contains  pre-formed, 
sometimes  pre-localized,  organ-forming  substances, 
whose  removal  involves  the  absence  of  a  corre- 
sponding structure,  should  development  proceed. 
Thus,  the  old  view  of  the  ovum  as  homogeneous 
and  isotropic  has  given  way  before  experimental 
proof  of  heterogeneity.  It  may  be  that,  in  the 
heterogeneous,  anisotropic  cytoplasm  of  the  egg, 
there  is  the  foundation  of  the  progressive  differen- 
tiation that  follows,  and  it  may  be,  as  Driesch  and 
Boveri  suggest,  that  the  dividing  nuclei — each  a 
microcosm — are  differently  stimulated  to  expres- 
sion in  different  areas  of  the  cytoplasm,  and  that 
they  thus  call  forth  new  differentiations  in  these, 
in  ever-increasing  complexity  of  action  and  re- 
action. 

Another  line  of  investigation  inquires  into  the 
mutual  influences  of  the  parts  of  the  developing 
organism.  An  egg  divides  into  a  ball  of  cells  (or 
blastomeres),  and  it  seems  reasonable  to  suppose — 
what  experiment  confirms — that  the  prospective 
value  of  a  particular  hlastomere  depends  on  its 
position  in  the  whole.  In  the  development  of  a 
colony  of  polymorphic  Hydroids,  such  as  Hydrac- 
tinia,  it  is  probable  that  the  prospective  value  of 
any  young  polyp — whether  it  is  to  become  nutri- 
tive, reproductive,  or  sensory — depends,  in  part  at 
least,  on  its  position  in  the  whole.  Similarly,  in 
the  development  of  an  embryo,  it  is  probable  that 
there  are  subtler  than  spatial  correlations  between 
the  developing  cells  or  groups  of  cells.  Driesch 
has  especially  emphasized  this  idea  of  the  mutual 
stimulation  of  developing  parts,  but  further  re- 
search is  necessary  before  we  can  securely  estimate 
the  action  of  parts  upon  one  another.  This,  indeed, 
brings  us  right  up  against  one  of  the  distinctive 
riddles  of  development — that  there  is,  on  the  one 
hand,  so  much  inter-dependence  of  parts,  and  yet, 
on  the  other  hand,  so  much  power  of  self-differen- 
tiation. 

In  regard  to  the  question  so  often  asked,  whether 
we  can  understand  development  in  terms  of  chem- 
istry and  physics,  the  scientific  answer  must  be 
that  we  cannot  at  present  in  the  very  least  describe 
embryonic  development — that  wonderful  individual 
unpacking  of  a  racial  treasure-box — in  terms  of 
chemistry  and  physics.  There  are  chemical  and 
physical  processes  going  on,  of  course,  which  re- 
ward study,  but  a  knowledge  of  them  does  not 
help  us  greatly  to  understand  the  result.  There  is 
nothing  known  in  regard  to  development  that  is  at 
variance  with  the  conclusions  of  chemistry  and 
physics,  but  we  cannot  give  a  physico-chemical 
rendering  of  the  observed  facts.  Nowhere  is  the 
autonomy  of  Biology  clearer  than  here.  Driesch 
in  particular  has  done  great  service  in  showing 
that  mechanistic  formula;  will  not  suffice  when  we 
come  to  deal  with  organic  development,  notably 
when  we  consider  the  localization  of  the  various 
successive  steps  of  differentiation.  But  many  who 
are  at  one  with  him  on  that  point  are  unable  to 
follow  him  in  his  constructive  hypothesis  of  an 
entelechy  which  exerts  a  directive  influence  on  the 
transformations  of  energy  that  go  on  in  develop- 
ment. 

LiTERATmtE. — Hans  Driesch,  The  Science  and  Philosophy  of 
the  Organism  (Gifiord  Lectures  at  Aberdeen),  2  vols.,  London, 
1908 ;  J.  W.  jenkinson,  Experimental  Embryology,  Oxford, 
1909  [a  very  able  treatise,  with  a  philosophical  discussion] ;  W. 
Roux,  Vortrdge  und  Aufsdtze  iiber  Entwickelungsmechanik  dcr 
Organismen,  i.,  Leipzig-,  1906 ;  E.  B.  Wilson,  The  Cell  in 
Development  and  Inheritance,  London  and  New  York,  1900 ; 
Aristotle's  de  Generatione,  tr.  Pratt,  Oxford,  1911.  See  also 
literature  at  end  of  art.  Biology. 

J.  Arthur  Thomson. 
DEVELOPMENT  (Mental).— i.  Introduction. 
—During  and  after  the  period  of  bodily  growth 
and  development,  from  infancy  to  adult  life,  the 


individual  gradually  acquires  and  completes  his 
mental  powers.  The  study  of  mental  development 
has  as  its  aim  to  determine  the  conditions  which 
govern  this  gradual  process,  and  its  successive 
stages  both  for  the  mind  in  general  and  for  the 
special  functions  or  capacities.  It  has  been  re- 
marked that,  while  some  of  the  lowest  animals 
are  born  '  grown  up,'  being  able  from  the  first  to 
secure  food  for  themselves  and  otherwise  to  live 
a  life  similar  to  that  of  their  parents,  the  higher 
we  ascend  the  scale  of  animal  life  the  longer  is 
the  period  of  immaturity,  infancy,  or  develop- 
ment which  the  individual  undergoes.  This  is 
not  a  mere  accident :  the  length  of  infancy  has 
a  direct  relation  to  the  height  achieved  by  the 
animal's  species  in  the  evolutionary  scale,  in  other 
words,  to  the  complexity  of  its  structure  and 
functions,  the  variety  of  its  adaptation  to  environ- 
ment, and  especially  the  degree  of  plasticity,  or 
power  of  modifying  behaviour,  which  it  possesses. 
The  argument  applies  equally  to  the  physical  and 
the  mental  aspects  of  evolution. 

Comparative  tables  show  that  the  ratio  of  the  period  of  imma- 
turity to  that  of  length  of  life,  which  in  man  is  25  :  75,  or  1 : 3, 
is  an  increasingly  small  fraction  as  we  descend  the  scale  :  thus 
elephant,  1:4;  horse,  lion,  1:6;  dog,  1:8;  cattle,  1:9;  cat, 
1  :  10  ;  rabbit,  1 :  11 ;  guinea-pig,  1 :  12  (A.  P.  Chamberlain 
[after  Hollis  and  Bell],  The  Child*,  ch.  4).  The  same  differences 
may  be  observed  within  the  human  race  itself :  the  yoUDg 
savage,  or  barbarian,  Papuan,  Fuegian,  Bushman,  Eskimo,  is 
adult,  and  begins  to  take  a  man's  or  woman's  part  in  the  tribal 
work,  at  from  10  to  12  or  13  years ;  while,  within  civilization, 
the  date  of  perfect  maturity  has  been  progressively  advancing 
to  21,  25,  and  even  to  30  years  for  complete  mental  develop- 
ment. It  must  be  supposed  that  the  ordinary  forces  making 
for  evolution  have  determined  this  increasing  length  of  infancy 
and  immaturity ;  it  has  the  following  advantages  :  (1)  Com- 
pleted growth  means  rigidity  ;  the  more  firmly  a  structure  is 
organized,  the  more  completely  a  habit  is  fixed  by  the  organic 
mechanism,  the  more  difficult  is  it  for  either  structure  or  habit 
to  be  modified  to  suit  new  conditions ;  hence  longer  infancy 
means  more  gradual  and  therefore  more  effective  adaptation 
to  the  general  environment.  (2)  Completed  development 
means  completed  adaptation  to  a  number  of  special  forces  in 
the  environment ;  the  period  of  development  is  that  during 
which  selection  occurs  among  the  forces  to  which  adaptation 
is  to  be  made ;  thus  longer  infancy  means  ultimately  more 
specialized  adaptation  to,  and  greater  control  over,  the  environ- 
ment. (3)  The  main  value  of  mental  as  contrasted  with 
physical  development  is  to  give  the  individual  a  mastery  of 
the  means  of  economizing  behaviour — by  selective  attention, 
by  language,  by  technical  skill,  by  thinking,  abstraction,  and 
reason — the  mastery  of  those  varied  means  of  summarizing  ex- 
perience which  the  race  has  in  its  evolution  perfected :  such 
powers  cannot  be  transmitted  by  physical  heredity,  but  must 
be  re-acquired  by  each  individual  by  imitation  or  education  : 
the  longer  development  corresponds,  therefore,  to  the  greater 
refinement  of  the  race  in  these  products  of  experience.  (4)  In 
regard  to  physical  structures  as  well  as  to  mental  achieve- 
ments, the  individual  must  by  exercise  and  activity  acquire 
even  those  functions  for  which  it  has  a  congenital  disposition  : 
the  simple  structure  does  not  become  the  complex  organiza- 
tion, without  effort  on  the  individual's  part.  This  is  true 
whether  or  not  the  individual  is  supposed  to  pass  through  the 
same  stages  of  growth  as  those  by  which  its  ancestral  line 
has  come  down  from  simpler  life-forms  (recapitulation  theory). 
Hence,  the  higher  the  evolution  of  the  race,  the  longer  must  be 
the  period  occupied  by  the  individual  in  reaching  its  race- 
type  (K.  Groos,  Play  of  Animals,  ch.  2,  Eng.  tr.,  London, 
1898  ;  Chamberlain,  op.  cit. ;  E.  Claparede,  Psychol,  de  VenfanV*, 
chs.  2  and  4). 

2.  Relation  of  development  to  evolution. — The 
recapitulation  theory,  once  accepted  as  almost  a 
truism,  has  recently  met  with  much  criticism.  It 
has  been  applied  to  mental  development  most 
frankly  and  fully  by  Stanley  Hall  and  his  school. 
According  to  these  writers,  there  are  three  ways 
in  which  the  individual  reveals  the  story  of  his 
race.  (1)  There  is  the  actually  observed  corre- 
spondence between  the  stages  and  order  of  de- 
velopment and  those  of  race-evolution  ('recapitu- 
lation ').  (2)  There  is  the  occasional  appearance, 
even  in  adult  normal  life,  of  mental  forms  which 
are  echoes  of  primitive  mental  stages ;  these 
occur  more  especially  in  states  of  mental  weak- 
ness, fatigue,  exhaustion,  illness,  the  drug-psy- 
choses, sleep,  hypnosis  ('  reverberations,'  '  reminis- 
cences').  Our  souls,  like  our  bodies,  represent 
the  organized  experiences  of  past  ancestors  :  fears, 


682 


DEVELOPMENT  (Mental) 


affeotions,  thoughts,  which  appear  even  in  quite 
healthy  states,  may  be  '  rudimentary  spectreB ' 
(Stanley  Hall)  due  to  survivals  from  distant  ages 
of  man.  (3)  A  given  individual  may  show  arrest 
of  mental  (as  well  as  of  physical)  development, 
stopping  short  at  a  stage  which  the  race  in  general 
has  long  since  passed ;  in  such  a  case  we  have  a 
'  reversion,'  or  an  atavism  (q.v.),  in  which  the 
characteristics  of  remote  ancestors  dominate,  in 
the  child's  development,  those  derived  from  his 

Cents  or  near  ancestors.  The  mind,  like  the 
y,  thus  consists  of  segmentary  divisions  or 
strata  derived  from  different  periods  of  evolution  : 
the  older  strata  are  naturally  those  which  are 
most  fixed  and  uniform  throughout  a  race  (e.g.  the 
primitive  instincts) ;  the  more  recent  strata  are 
more  variable  in  the  different  individuals  (e.g.  the 
forms  of  intellectual  development) ;  again,  the 
older  strata  represent  the  foundation  from  which 
the  more  recent  have  been  derived,  and  on  which, 
therefore,  the  latter  must  be  built  up  by  the  indi- 
vidual :  hence  not  only  does  the  individual,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  tend  to  develop  along  racial  lines, 
but  also  parents  and  teachers  ought  to  encourage 
and  strengthen  this  tendency,  in  order  to  secure 
adequate  and  proportional  development  of  all  the 
different  powers  ('  culture-epoch  theory ').' 

The  recapitulation  theory  has  been  defended  (1) 
in  the  stages  at  which  the  different  senses  mature ; 
(2)  in  the  stages  at  which  accurate  discrimina- 
tion of  the  different  qualities  within  the  same 
sensory  group  appears ;  (3)  in  the  appearance  of 
the  different  instinctive  activities  j  (4)  in  the  play 
activities  of  children  ;  (5)  in  the  successive  objects 
of  imitation  which  children  select  for  themselves  ; 
(6)  in  the  stages  of  intelligent  behaviour,  and  in 
the  development  of  abstract  thought ;  (7)  in  the 
development  of  emotion  ;  (8)  in  language.  The 
principle  has  been  greatly  over-driven  by  its  sup- 
porters, and  probably  the  correspondence  in  ques- 
tion is  limited  to  the  broad  general  lines  of 
development  and  evolution  respectively.  Special 
objections  apply  to  the  culture-epoch  theory  both 
as  an  interpretation  of  the  facts  of  observation 
and  as  a  basis  of  educational  reform,  but  in  the 
course  of  its  discussion  many  valuable  suggestions 
have  been  made.  The  child  is  not  mentally,  any 
more  than  physically,  a  mere  miniature  adult ; 
its  powers  do  not  differ  merely  in  quantity  from 
those  of  the  adult ;  they  differ  also  m  proportion 
and  in  kind. 

Nature  and  nurture. — The  question  is  still  very 
far  from  settled  as  to  the  respective  influence  in 
development  of  factors  which  are  present  in  the 
individual  at  birth,  and  of  factors  which  come 
from  the  environment  and  operate  from  without. 
The  arguments  for  the  former,  in  the  case  of 
mental  development,  are :  the  tendency  of  the 
individual  to  reach  the  type  or  standard  of  his 
race,  mentally  as  physically ;  the  remarkably 
close  resemblances  which  the  adult  individual 
shows  to  his  parents  and  nearer  ancestors,  in  char- 
acter as  in  Dody — a  resemblance  which  is  still 
freater,  it  is  said,  between  parent  and  child  when 
oth  are  considered  at  the  stage  of  infancy  or 
childhood  j  and  the  phenomena  of  atavism,  so  far 
as  they  are  certified.  Such  facts  suggest  that,  as 
the  bodily  germ-cell  contains  elements,  or  at  least 
conditions,  by  which  the  future  growth  of  the 
individual  bodily  organism  is  determined  along 
definite  lines,  with  definite  limits,  and  definite 
proportions  between  the  parts,  so  the  mind,  or 
perhaps  we  should  say  the  brain  as  the  basis  of 
mind,   also  has  its   development    pre-determined 

1  See  the  Herbartian  Ziller'a  Allg.  Pddag.%,  Leipzig,  1884, 
p.  215  ff.,  and  Grundlegung  zur  Lehre  vom  erzieh.  Unter.2,  do. 
1884,  and  the  criticisms  of  K.  Lauge,  ApperzeptionV,  do.  1908, 

p.  int. 


from  the  first.  In  support  of  this  the  statistical 
observations  of  Galton,  Pearson,  Heymans,  and 
others  have  been  adduced  on  the  resemblances 
and  correlations  between  the  mental  capacities  of 
individuals  and  those  of  their  parents  or  other 
members  of  their  family. 

The  result  of  Galton's  observations  on  the  prevalence  of 
eminence  and  genius  in  different  families  may  be  placed  in 
this  form  :  that  the  chances  of  an  eminent  man  having  an 
eminent  relative  are  as  1  to  4,  while  the  chances  that  an  ordi- 
nary man,  or  a  man  chosen  at  random  without  reference  to 
eminence,  will  have  an  eminent  relative  are  as  1  to  250.  That 
this  is  not  due  to  opportunity  or  to  social  influences  he  argues 
by  a  comparison  between  the  adopted  sons  of  Popes  and  the 
real  sons  of  gifted  men.  Again,  if  both  parents  are  artistic, 
the  probability  of  a  child  being  artistic  is  2  to  1 ;  while,  if 
neither  parent  is  artistic,  the  probability  of  the  child  being  so 
is  1  to  4.  Another  and  later  statement  shows  that,  while  35 
families,  of  a  certain  relatively  high  degree  of  eminence  or 
capacity  in  the  fathers,  will  contain  at  least  6  sons  of  the  same 
capacity,  as  many  as  5000  families  of  average  or  mediocre 
ability  in  the  fathers  will  be  required  to  furnish  the  same 
number  of  sons  of  that  higher  degree  of  eminence  (F.  Galton, 
Hereditary  Genius,  London,  1869,  Natural  Inheritance,  London, 
1889.  For  further  references,  see  J.  Arthur  Thomson,  Heredity, 
London,  1908). 

Again,  Karl  Pearson  dealt  with  families  statistically  in  regard 
to  such  characteristics  as  intelligence,  vivacity,  conscientious- 
ness, popularity,  temper ;  he  had  previously  compared  them 
in  regard  to  such  physical  characters  as  the  colour  of  hair,  size 
and  capacity  of  skull,  stature,  etc.  The  application  of  the 
correlation-formula  may  be  simply  explained  in  this  way,  that 
if  every  two  brothers  had  always  the  same  stature,  or  the  same 
colour  of  hair,  then  the  correlation-index  would  be  1*00 ;  if 
there  were  no  law  whatever,  so  that  in  one  case  the  two 
brothers  might  be  equally  tall,  in  another  the  one  tall  and  the 
other  moderate,  in  a  third  the  one  tall  and  the  other  short, 
then  the  index  would  be  0*00  ;  while,  conversely,  if  there  were 
such  a  law  that  in  every  case  of  two  brothers  one  was  tall  and 
the  other  short  (of  course  in  exact  proportion),  then  the  index 
would  be  -  TOO.  The  index  Karl  Pearson  found  for  the  colour 
of  the  hair  was  0*54,  for  the  skull  0-49,  for  the  stature  0*51 ; 
while  for  the  mental  characters  the  average  correlation  was 
0'52,  in  other  words,  practically  the  same  as  the  physical  index. 
These  are  comparatively  high  degrees  of  correlation,  and  sug- 
gest that  the  same  cause  has  been  operative  in  both  classes  of 
cases  considered  in  the  statistical  measurement.  Now,  it  is 
quite  obvious  that  post-natal  conditions  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  colour  of  the  hair  or  with  the  size  of  the  skull ;  hence 
it  is  equally  unlikely,  he  argues,  that  the  environment  has 
anything  to  do  with  the  intelligence,  or  vivacity,  or  temper  of 
the  individual.  Later,  more  particular  and  accurate  testa  gave 
similar  results,  although  the  correlations  were  not  quite  so 
hig-h ;  in  any  case,  the  brother  of  a  bright  child  is  much  more 
likely  to  be  bright  than  the  brother  of  a  dull  child ;  bright- 
ness or  dullness  of  intelligence  is  derived  from  the  parents  and 
is  not  due  to  education  or  environment,  and  not  only  is  it  the 
general  mental  character  that  is  inherited  in  this  way,  but 
even  quite  special  characteristics  (K.  Pearson,  Nature,  lxv. 
[1901]  118,  also  Huxley  Lect.  for  1903  in  the  Trans.  Anthr. 
Inst.  p.  179  ff.,  and  Biometrika,  ii.  [1903]  367,  and  iii.  [1904] 
131 ;  Heymans,  Ztschr.f.  angew.  Psych,  i.  [1907].  On  the  whole 
question,  see  E.  L.  Thorndike,  Educational  Psychology,  New 
York,  1903,  ch.  6). 

On  the  other  side,  Loeb  and  his  school  are  able 
to  produce  an  increasing  mass  of  evidence  showing 
that  the  development  of  the  bodily  organism, 
since  it  can  be  enormously  modified  by  changes 
in  the  environment,  is  to  a  large  extent  directly 
due  to  the  action  of  external  forces.  Hence  the 
mental  development  may  be  a  product  of  environ- 
ment and  opportunity  rather  than  of  innate 
factors.  Thus,  the  conclusions  of  Galton  and 
Pearson,  for  example,  are  insecure  so  long  as  we 
do  not  and  cannot  exclude  the  environmental  in- 
fluence :  just  as  children  of  healthy  parents  tend 
to  have  healthy  bodies  because  of  the  sufficient 
and  proper  food  which  their  parents  (because  of 
their  healthiness)  are  able  to  provide  them,  so  the 
children  of  mentally  gifted  parents  tend  also  to  be 
mentally  gifted,  because  of  the  immensely  greater 
stimulation  which  they  receive  from  the  conversa- 
tion, the  life,  the  surroundings  of  their  parents, 
and  their  parents'  friends  ;  it  is  a  question  not  of 
innate,  but  of  external,  conditioning.  See,  further, 
art.  Heredity. 

3.  Relation  of  mental  to  physical  development : 
periods  of  development. — It  has  been  shown  (see 
Body  and  Mind,  Brain  and  Mind)  that  the 
development  of  the  mental  powers  is  in  intimate 


DEVELOPMENT  (Mental) 


683 


relation  with  that  of  the  hodily  organs,  and 
especially  the  brain. 

The  term  *  development '  is  here  used  in  a  wide  sense  to  cover 
both  growth  and  development  proper  ;  strictly  it  is  preferable 
to  confine  the  term  '  growth '  to  the  increase  in  size  or  amount, 
while  '  development '  is  reserved  for  increase  in  organization 
and  connexion  of  parts ;  but  these  processes  occur  simultane- 
ously in  physical  development,  and  it  is  extremely  difficult  to 
draw  any  line  between  them  in  mental  expansion. 

The  stages  of  physical  growth  and  maturity  have 
been  used  to  delimit  the  periods  of  childhood 
generally  ;  broadly,  we  may  take  four  periods  of 
seven  years  each  :  (1)  childhood,  from  birth  to  7 
years  (about  the  time  of  the  completion  of  the 
second  dentition) ;  (2)  the  period  of  girlhood  or 
boyhood,  from  the  7th  to  the  14th  year ;  (3)  tlie 
period  of  adolescence  or  youth,  from  the  14th  to 
the  21st  year ;  and  (4)  from  the  21st  to  the  28th 
year,  by  which  time  the  mental  development,  as 
well  as  the  skeletal  growth,  is  approximately  com- 
pleted. The  first  period  is  also  divided  into  in- 
fancy (the  first  two  years,  to  completion  of  first 
dentition)  and  childhood  proper  (to  the  7th  year). 

(1)  Characteristic  of  the  first  period  are  the 
development  of  the  senses,  which  at  first  are  ex- 
tremely imperfect ;  rapid  body  and  brain  growth  ; 
the  acquirement  of  the  fundamental  motor  co- 
ordinations— walking,  grasping,  climbing,  etc. — 
and  the  acquirement  of  speech ;  emotions  are  readily 
excited,  but  are  of  short  duration  ;  the  prominent 
instincts  are  the  self-preservative  ones,  '  experi- 
mentation play,'  and  imitation.  (2)  The  second 
period  is  marked  by  a  slower  bodiiy  growth  ;  the 
brain  is  relatively  fixed  in  its  size  and  weight 
before  the  middle  of  this  period,  but  undergoes 
rapid  development  or  organization  during  the 
latter  part  of  it ;  the  important  physiological 
changes  that  occur  towards  the  middle  of  the 
period  are  accompanied  by  susceptibility  to 
emotional  excitement ;  the  individual  is  easily 
fatigued ;  bodily  and  mental  habits  are  being 
formed  and  fixed ;  the  beginnings  of  abstract 
thought  and  of  self-consciousness  present  them- 
selves :  action  is  co-ordinated  with  reflective  in- 
telligence and  thought.  (3)  In  the  third  stage 
there  is,  again,  at  the  beginning,  a  rapid  advance 
in  bodily  growth  followed  by  another  period  of 
slow  growth  to  its  completion  at  about  21;  there 
is  a  strengthening  of  the  social  consciousness  ; 
greater  interest  is  shown  in  adults  and  their  work  ; 
it  is  also  the  period  of  idealism,  of  romance,  and 
generally  of  great  emotional  and  social  develop- 
ment;— '  storm  and  stress ' ;  the  mental  powers 
begin  to  be  definitely  fixed  and  proportioned ; 
even  play  takes  a  more  serious  form — in  tests  of 
endurance,  self-control,  skill,  and  ability.  (On 
this  important  period,  see  Stanley  Hall's  Adol- 
escence, and  art.  ADOLESCENCE,  vol.  i.  p.  101).  (4) 
The  last  period  referred  to  is  that  in  which  the 
general  mental  character  is  finally  hardened  or 
set.  (On  the  periods  of  childhood,  see  the  histori- 
cal summary  in  Chamberlain,  ch.  4,  and  Claparede, 
ch.  4,  par.  1).  The  development  of  the  brain  is 
peculiar  in  this  respect,  that  at  birth  it  bears  a 
higher  proportion  relatively  to  the  rest  of  the 
body,  and  to  its  adult  value,  than  any  other  organ. 
While  the  weight  of  body  of  the  newly  born  infant 
is  to  that  of  the  adult  as  1  to  20,  the  corre- 
sponding ratio  in  the  case  of  the  brain  alone  is 
1  to  3'8  (see  the  tables  given  in  H.  H.  Donaldson, 
Growth  of  the  Brain,  London,  1895,  chs.  2  and  5). 
Nearly  the  full  weight  of  the  brain,  however,  and 
therefore  its  completed  '  growth,'  is  reached  be- 
tween the  7th  and  the  10th  year,  whereas  the  full 
stature  is  not  attained  until  about  the  21st  year, 
and  the  body  may  go  on  increasing  in  weight  till 
the  50th  year  or  later.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
brain  after  the  7th  year  undergoes  changes  of 
great  importance  in  its  organization  ;  growth  is 


replaced  by  development,  in  the  proper  sense  of 
the  word,  although  there  has  also  been  some  degree 
of  development  during  the  earlier  stages. 

According  to  Flechslg's  discoveries,  the  sensory  areas  of  the 
brain  are  the  first  to  show  functional  maturity,  that  Is,  they 
are  the  first  whose  connecting  fibres  acquire  the  medullary, 
sheath  (Localisation  der  geistigen  Vorgdnge,  Leipzig,  1896). 
The  earliest  fibres  to  be  functionally  perfect  are  those  which 
lead  from  and  to  the  large  region  of  the  brain,  which  he 
calls  the  area  for  *  body  sensation,'  including  under  this 
broad  term  both  the  internal  sensations,  conveyed  from  the 
viscera,  muscles,  etc.,  and  the  external,  conveyed  from  the 
skin  (organic,  kinesthetic,  pain,  touch,  and  temperature  sensa- 
tions, sensations  of  position) ;  these  connexions  begin  before 
birth,  and  are  completed  in  the  first  few  months  after  birth. 
Within  this  region  it  is  the  fibres  connected  with  the  internal 
organs,  and  with  the  extremities,  that  are  first  completed ; 
then  follow  those  connected  with  the  trunk,  and  with  the 
special  muscles  that  are  afterwards  used  for  speech.  They 
convey  the  great  masses  of  sensation  with  which  the  feelings 
and  emotions,  and  also  the  sense  of  self,  are  directly  correlated 
(H.  Beaunis,  Les  Sensations  internes,  Paris,  1889).  It  may  be 
concluded  that  these  impressions  are  the  earliest  which  the 
child  is  capable  of  receiving,  and  the  first  to  be  connected  into 
systematic  perceptions.  Next  in  order  of  development  are  the 
fibres  connected  with  the  smell-centre,  and  probably  those  of 
the  taste-centre ;  third  are  those  which  lead  to  and  from  the 
sight  area,  which  do  not  begin  to  show  the  medullary-sheath 
until  after  birth ;  while  those  of  hearing  come  last.  Outside 
the  more  or  less  sharply  defined  areas  of  the  brain,  from  which 
these  [fibres  derive,  are  those  which  Flechsig,  after  Meynert, 
names  the  association  areas,  the  two  chief  areas  being  the  large 
occipital  zone,  and  the  pre-frontal  zone.  It  is  noticeable  that 
these  are  all  much  later  in  completing  their  connexions  than 
the  sensory  zones,  and  that  their  connexions  are  almost  entirely 
of  the  intra-cerebral  type ;  that  is  to  say,  they  pass  between 
the  different  parts  of  the  cortex  within  a  hemisphere  or  from 
one  hemisphere  to  the  other;  these  are  hardly  present  at  all 
in  the  third  month  of  life,  but  continue  to  form  for  several 
years  afterwards. 

Flechsig  holds,  from  a  comparison  between  his  anatomical 
researches  and  the  results  of  clinical  and  pathological  observa- 
tion, that  the  sensory  zones  *  mediate '  not  only  sensations 
proper,  but  also  those  mental  forms  which  are  based  upon 
groups  or  combinations  of  similar  sensations ;  for  example, 
tactual  space-perceptions,  and  perceptions  of  auditive  series 
such  as  those  involved  in  the  appreciation  of  spoken  words. 
With  the  large  association-area  in  the  hind  part  of  the  brain 
are  correlated  such  perceptions  as  involve  combinations  of 
heterogeneous  sensations,  associations,  and  memories  ;  in  other 
words,  ideas  of  external  objects,  of  the  meaning  of  words,  and 
all  forms  of  higher  knowledge.  Injury  to,  or  destruction  of, 
these  regions  leads  to  an  entire  loss  both  of  visual  and  of 
auditory  memory,  and  the  state  which  has  sometimes  been 
called  apraxia,  or  agnosis,  that  is,  an  apparent  inability  not 
only  to  name  familiar  objects  or  to  recognize  them  when  seen, 
but  even  to  use  them  when  placed  in  the  hand  ;  yet  at  the 
same  time  power  of  sensation  appears  to  be  intact.  The  general 
term  'intelligence'  might  fitly  be  used  to  cover  the  mental 
faculties  which  are  lost  in  such  a  case.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
pre-frontal  region,  standing  in  the  closest  relation  with  the 
area  for  the  tactual,  kinesthetic,  and  organic  sensations,  is 
that  which  runs  parallel  with  the  development  of  the  will, 
character,  and  self-consciousness ;  the  one  certain  fact  about 
injury  to  it  is  that  there  is  a  loss  of  interest,  spontaneity, 
power  of  concentrating  the  attention,  in  short,  a  general 
depreciation  of  the  character. 

The  close  relation  between  normal  development 
of  the  brain  and  normal  mental  capacity,  between 
abnormal  development  or  one-sided  development 
and  genius,  between  defective  development  and 
imbecility,  etc.,  have  been  referred  to  elsewhere 
(Brain  and  Mind)  ;  modern  appeals  for  improved 
hygiene  in  schools,  medical  inspection  of  children, 
feeding  of  necessitous  children,  special  classes  for 
defective  children,  and  the  avoidance  of  over-strain, 
have  their  ground  or  justification  in  the  intimate 
correlation  between  the  development  of  the  body 
and  that  of  the  mind ;  and,  needless  to  say,  in  the 
case  of  the  child,  even  more  than  in  that  of  the 
adult,  the  health  of  the  mind  is  mainly  dependent 
upon  that  of  the  body. 

4.  The  conditions  of  development.  —  It  has 
already  been  pointed  out  that  it  is  difficult  to 
say  how  far  development  proceeds  from  internal, 
and  how  far  from  external  factors.  It  may  be 
urged  that,  just  as  a  child  will  reach  a  certain  pre- 
determined height,  provided  that  it  obtains  adequate 
food  and  exercise  and  is  protected  from  injury,  and 
as  no  amount  of  extra  feeding  or  exercise  will  enable 
it  to  go  beyond  this  height,  while  under-feeding, 
under-exercise,  and  injury  will  make  it  fall  below 


684 


DEVELOPMENT  (Mental) 


it,  so  it  is  in  the  case  of  the  mind.  The  child  is 
born  with  the  possibility  of  so  much  mental 
capacity,  so  mnch  '  intelligence,'  or  retentive 
memory,  so  acute  a  sense  of  sight  or  hearing,  etc.  ; 
care  and  practice  will  enable  it  to  reach  these  fixed 
limits,  but  not  to  pass  beyond  them,  while  neglect 
and  want  of  exercise  may  keep  it  far  short  of  them. 
The  conclusion  is  that  the  function  of  the  teacher 
or  parent  is  limited  to  the  providing  of  the  neces- 
sary material  for  development,  that  the  amount 
and  the  direction  of  the  development  are,  however, 
determined  already  by  the  nature  which  the  child 
has  received  at  birth.  It  is  probable  that  the  two 
most  important  factors  in  the  question  are,  on 
the  one  hand,  the  activity  of  the  child,  which  is 
partly  a  matter  of  congenital  faculty,  and  partly  a 
matter  of  healthy  nutrition  ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  opportunity  of  exercise  and  practice.  The 
child  who  is  constantly  moving  about  not  only 
improves  his  health  in  general,  but  also  puts  him- 
self within  reach  of  varied  stimuli  by  which  his 
mental  powers  are  evoked,  and  in  the  course  of 
time  developed  ;  while  the  sluggish  child  does  not 
come  so  much  within  reach  of  stimulation,  and 
therefore  has  a  relatively  slower  development. 
Opportunity  includes  both  the  ordinary  social 
and  educational  advantages  or  disadvantages,  and 
especially  those  factors  which  depend  on  the  health, 
culture,  and  economic  position  of  the  parents. 
Nature  determines  that  the  fundamental  instincts 
shall  appear  in  a  certain  order,  and  each  contribute 
its  share  to  the  complete  development ;  but,  if 
stimulation  and  exercise  are  not  provided,  any 
instinct,  when  it  appears,  will  remain  undeveloped, 
and  therefore  the  whole  mental  growth  will  suffer 
a  certain  amount  of  distortion. 

Play  and  imitation.— The  principal  internal  con- 
ditions of  development  are  the  two  'instincts,'  if 
they  may  be  so  called — play  and  imitation.  Play 
in  the  wide  sense  includes  all  activities  or  tendencies 
which  do  not  contribute  to  the  immediate  needs  of 
the  organism,  which  are  spontaneously  carried  out, 
and  which  give  pleasure  in  their  operation  apart 
from  any  result  derived  from  them.  The  natural 
view  of  play  is  such  as  is  expressed  in  Spencer's 
surplus  energy  theory,  viz.  that  play  is  the  out- 
come of  the  excessive  amount  of  stored  nervous 
energy  in  the  young,  the  exercise  of  which  is  not 
required  for  the  organic  needs,  or  of  the  tendency 
or  faculty  of  imitation,  according  to  which  the 
child  in  its  play  imitates  adult  activities  (Principles 
of  Psychology*,  1872,  vol.  ii.  pt.  8,  ch.  9).  The 
theory  with  which  Groos  {Play  of  Animals  and 
Play  of  Man  [Eng.  tr.,  London,  1910]),  Baldwin 
(Pref.  to  Groos'  Play  of  Animals),  and  others  seek 
to  replace  this  is  that  play  has  a  biological 
function,  viz.  that  of  preparing  the  immature 
individual  for  the  activities  of  adult  life,  without 
exposing  it  to  danger  such  as  would  be  implied  if 
it  had  to  acquire  the  same  experience  apart  from 
the  parent's  protection.  There  is  in  each  of  the 
mental  powers  (or  in  each  of  the  relative  centres  of 
the  brain)  a  tendency  to  expression  or  exercise, 
and,  long  before  there  is  real  need  for  such  powers, 
this  exercise  is  obtained  through  play ;  thus  the 
plays  of  children  follow  roughly  the  stages  of  the 
race  evolution,  as  Hugh  Miller  suggested  (My 
Schools  and  Schoolmasters).  The  corresponding 
instincts  and  interests  develop  successively  in  the 
child's  mind ;  as  they  develop  in  their  order,  each 
in  turn  seeks,  as  it  were,  for  self-expansion  or  ex- 
pression, and  this  takes  the  form  of  play.  A 
specially  important  feature  of  play  is  that  it  pre- 
pares the  way  for  intelligence,  or,  rather,  it  is  the 
means  by  which  intelligence  gradually  comes  to 
replace  instinct,  both  in  the  race  and  in  the  individ- 
ual ;  the  more  fixed  and  limited  the  environment 
of  an  organism  is,  the  more  rigid  are  its  instincts. 


the  less  developed  is  its  nervous  system,  and  the 
less  is  its  power  to  adapt  itself  to  changes  in  the 
environment ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  more  varied 
the  environment,  the  less  rigid,  although  perhaps 
more  numerous,  the  instinctive  tendencies  are,  and 
the  greater  the  ultimate  development  of  the  intelli- 
gence ;  play  enables  the  instincts  to  be  sufficiently 
exercised  without  dominating  the  development  as 
a  whole.  In  general,  then,  play  is  a  preparation 
for  the  adult  life ;  hence,  the  higher  the  physical 
and  also  the  mental  development  ultimately 
achieved,  the  longer,  as  a  rule,  is  the  period  of 
play  ;  this,  according  to  Groos,  is  the  object,  the 
biological  function,  of  youth  ;  animals  do  not  play 
because  they  are  young,  but  they  have  a  period  of 
youth  in  order  to  play.  This  play  includes  the 
simple  experimentation  of  the  child,  as  that  of  the 
infant  when  exercising  its  muscles  and  its  senses 
upon  the  objects  around  it ;  thus  it  obtains  experi- 
ence of  the  qualities  of  objects,  and  at  the  same 
time  strengthens  and  develops  its  own  active 
powers.  Nature  has  provided  ample  means  for 
this  experimentation-play  in  the  pleasure  which 
the  child  manifestly  obtains  from  it,  and  which  is, 
here  as  elsewhere,  the  correlative  and  index  of 
action  which  is  for  the  benefit  of  the  organism. 
Next  follow  those  plays  by  which  the  organism  as 
a  whole  is  strengthened  physically,  and  by  which 
the  memory  is  organized  and  experience  consoli- 
dated ;  finally,  plays  in  which  the  higher  mental 
powers,  as  well  as  the  wider  social  instincts,  are 
brought  out  and  exercised.  The  following  is 
Groos'  classification  of  the  plays  of  the  child 
(Play  of  Man)  :— 

Examples. 

I.  Playful  experimentation  : 

(a)  With  the  sensory  appara-        Experimentation  with  noiaes, 

tus.  tones,  tastes,  colours,  forms, 

etc. 

(b)  With  the  motor  appara-       Movement  of  its  own  body, 

tus.  moving  plays,  destructive  and 

constructive    plays,    throwing; 
plays. 

(c)  Playful  use  of  the  higher 

mental  powers. 

1.  Experimentation    with       Illusion      and      recognition 

the    mental    powers,    plays ;  imaginary  tales,  etc. 
memory,  imagination. 

2.  Experimentation     with        Games  involving  tests  of  en- 

tile feelings  (physical    durance,  pain  ;  tales  involving 
pain,    mental    6uffer-    surprises  and  perils,  dangerous 
ing,  surprise,  fear).         situations,  etc. 
8.  Experimentation     with        Experimentation     or     play 
the  will.  involving    control     of     reflex 

actions  or  of  habits. 

II.  Playful  exercise  of  impulses  of  the  second  or  socionomic 

order ;  (a)  fighting  plays  (physical  and  mental  tests, 
rivalry,  teasing,  hunting  plays,  etc.);  (6)  love  plays;  (c) 
imitative  play  (imitation  of  movements,  dramatic  imita- 
tion, constructive  imitation,  and  inner  or  artistic  imita- 
tion) ;  (d)  social  play. 

As  to  imitation,  it  also,  like  play,  is  a  universal 
tendency  in  normal  childhood,1  and  indeed  in  all 
young  animal  life  ;  both  imitation  and  play  differ, 
as  Groos  points  out  (op.  cit.  p.  2),  from  ordinary 
instincts,  in  the  fact  that  they  have  not  a  specific 
stimulus,  or  a  specific  reaction,  but  are  called  out 
by  any  kind  of  stimulus,  and  involve  a  reaction 
which  varies  with  the  stimulus  calling  them  out. 
The  essential  conditions  of  imitation  are  (1)  some 
sort  of  interest  (rapport),  by  which  the  attention 
of  the  young  animal  is  caught  and  held  by  an  older 
animal ;  (2)  the  perception  of  some  movement  in 
the  older  animal ;  (3)  the  experience  of  some  reflex 
or  inborn  tendency  towards  the  same  movement  in 
the  young.  Thus  imitation  is  always  based  partly 
on  innate  powers,  partly  on  the  social  conditions, 
and  partly  also  on  the  development  of  the  senses 
and  powers  of  perception.  There  is  a  gradual 
change  in  childhood  (a)  in  the  type  of  objects  or 
persons  whom  the  child  seeks  to  imitate,  in  the 
interest  which  it  feels  for  different  personalities, 

1  Idiot  children,  as  a  rule,  neither  play  nor  imitate  (Sollier, 
Psychol,  de  I'idiot  et  de  Timbicile  2,  Paris,  1901.  ch.  6). 


DEVELOPMENT  (Mental) 


<kt6 


and  the  attraction  of  its  attention  by  them ;  (6) 
in  the  complexity  of  the  actions  imitated  ;  (c)  in 
the  fidelity  of  the  imitation,  the  earlier  actions 
being  more  limited  and  more  faithful  copies,  the 
later  being  more  spontaneous,  original,  and  dra- 
matic in  their  form  (cf.  the  development  of  chil- 
dren's ideals  with  age  in  Earl  Barnes,  Studies  in 
Education,  ii.  [1902],  and  a  recent  study  by  Varen- 
donck,  in  Arch,  de  psych.,  no.  xxviii.,  July  1908). 
The  biological  function  of  imitation  is,  like  that  of 
play,  to  prepare  the  individual  for  adult  life,  while 
he  is  being  protected  from  the  dangers  that  might 
otherwise  lie  in  acquiring  such  experience.  The 
child,  imitating  its  parents,  its  teachers,  or  its 
friends,  acquires  the  nabits  of  expression  and  of 
action  which  they  already  have,  and  also — a  more 
important  matter — acquires  their  habits  of  emotion, 
their  mental  attitudes.  Imitation  thus  becomes  a 
form  of  heredity,  replacing  physical  heredity, 
bringing  the  same  advantages  more  rapidly,  and 
at  less  cost.  The  child  tends  through  it  to  resemble 
its  parents,  not  only  physically  but  also  mentally 
(Baldwin,  Mental  Development,  p.  332  ff.). 

5.  The  original  activities. — The  child  is  born 
with  a  complex  nervous  structure,  by  which  ade- 
quate response  is  provided  to  a  large  number  of 
stimuli  from  the  environment,  in  the  form  of  reflex, 
automatic,  and  instinctive  actions.  Some  of  these 
actions  are  carried  out  before  consciousness,  and 
therefore,  presumably,  before  mind  is  present,  or 
at  least  active  ;  and  even  in  later  development  we 
still  find  that  a  large  part  of  the  work  of  the  body 
is  carried  on  reflexly  or  automatically,  and  with- 
out the  intervention  of  consciousness.  The  ques- 
tion arises  as  to  the  relation  between  consciousness 
on  the  one  hand,  and  reflex  activity  on  the  other, 
in  development.  It  is  still  sometimes  argued  that 
consciousness  has  no  biological  function,  and  that 
the  whole  mental  development  is  simply  a  result  of, 
and  therefore  sequent  to,  the  bodily  and  cerebral 
development  itself,  which  in  its  turn  is  determined 
by  purely  physiological  and  physical  forces.  H. 
Ziegler,  A.  Bethe,  J.  Loeb,  J.  P.  Nuel,  and  other 
'  modernists '  in  Comparative  Psychology  would 
entirely  exclude  the  use  of  consciousness  (not 
merely  the  word,  but  the  thing)  from  biology. 
On  the  other  side,  it  is  held  that  consciousness  is, 
or  exercises,  a  controlling  power  by  which  the 
reflexes  present,  or  provided  for,  at  birth  are 
organized  into  higher  combinations,  and  modified 
on  the  ground  of  experience  (Lloyd  Morgan,  Introd. 
to  Comp.  Psychol.,  cli.  11,  London,  1894;  Animal 
Behaviour,  London,  1900) ;  and,  again,  that  the 
reflex  actions  themselves  are  a  product  of  con- 
scious effort  in  the  ancestors  of  the  individual 
(Wundt,  Physiol.  Psychol.*,  Leipzig,  1903,  iii. 
278  ff. ).  Thus  consciousness  or  mind  is  now  and 
has  been  in  the  past  the  main  force  making  not 
merely  for  mental,  but  also  for  physical  develop- 
ment and  evolution.  There  is  a  law  of  economy 
by  which  every  action,  as  it  is  repeated,  becomes 
less  and  less  of  a  conscious  action,  until  in  the  end 
it  may  be  purely  automatic ;  the  value  of  this  is 
that  the  energy  of  consciousness,  or  the  physical 
energy  underlying  consciousness,  is  thereby  set  free 
for  other  activities  ;  wherever  an  action  is  resisted, 
or  is  prevented  by  any  cause  from  issuing  in  its 
ordinary  way,  there  consciousness  is  immediately 
present ;  wherever  a  new  circumstance  arises  which 
requires  a  different  reaction  from  any  provided  by 
the  reflex  or  automatic  systems,  there  again  con- 
sciousness arises ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  less 
resistance  there  is  the  smoother  the  action,  the 
more  familiar  the  situation  the  less  is  conscious- 
ness directed  towards  it.  Consciousness  thus 
represents  the  '  growing  point '  of  the  organism  ; 
correlated  with  it  are  changes  in  the  central 
nervous  system,  and  in  the  body  as  a  whole,  which 


ultimately  become  the  basis  of  organized  intelli- 
gence and  will  (cf.  J.  Jastrow,  The  Subconscious^ 
London,  1906,  pt.  2). 

The  special  activities  and  powers  involved  in  the 
process  of  mental  development  may  be  classified  aa 
follows :  (1)  the  physiological  reflex  actions ;  (2) 
the  sense-organs,  sensations,  and  sensory  reflexes  ; 
(3)  perception,  in  relation  to  the  primary  attention- 
reflexes  ;  (4)  instinctive  behaviour  ;  (5)  feelings  and 
emotions  ;  (6)  will ;  (7)  memory,  its  conditions  and 
varieties ;  (8)  imagery  and  imagery  types ;  (9) 
language  and  abstract  thought. 

(1)  Physiological  reflexes  are  those  connected 
with  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  the  respiration, 
the  digestion,  and  other  processes  of  bodily  meta- 
bolism ;  of  these  it  is  not  necessary  to  treat  in  this 
connexion,  since  they  are  entirely  removed  from 
the  control  of  the  child's  consciousness,  except  so 
far  as  they  are  liable  to  modification  by  emotion, 
to  which  reference  will  be  made  later.  These 
processes  take  place  at  a  much  more  rapid  rate  in 
the  infant  than  in  the  adult. 

1  The  metabolic  activities  of  the  infant  are  more  pronounced 
than  those  of  the  adult,  for  the  sake,  not  so  much  of  energies 
which  are  spent  on  the  world  without,  as  of  energies  which  are 
for  a  while  buried  in  the  rapidly  increasing  mass  of  flesh.'  It  is 
*a  metabolism  directed  largely  to  constructive  ends  '  (M.  Foster, 
Text-book  of  Physiology'',  1891,  p.  1544). 

(2)  Sensations. — The  normal  child  is  provided  at 
birth  with  the  external  apparatus  for  all  classes  of 
sensation,  and  these  are  connected,  through  nerve 
fibres,  with  the  central  organs  in  the  brain  ;  but,  as 
has  been  remarked  above,  this  connexion  is  not 
functionally  complete  for  a  considerable  time  after 
birth.  The  child  at  first  is  deaf,  is  'light-shy,'  is 
insensitive  to  odours,  and  to  a  large  extent  to 
taste,  so  that  the  sense  of  touch  and  perhaps  the 
muscular  sense  are  the  only  ones  which  at  birth 
show  certain  indications  of  activity.  According 
to  the  tests  which  have  been  made,  the  sensitive- 
ness in  general  increases  very  rapidly  in  the  first 
few  years,  reaching  its  maximum  development 
probably  about  the  10th  year,  after  which  there  is 
a  decline  in  sensitiveness  proper,  although  the 
power  of  discrimination  remains  capable  of  great 
improvement  thereafter  (J.  A.  Gilbert,  Studies 
from  Yale  Psychol.  Lab.,  1893,  1894  ;  E.  Meumann, 
i.  102 ff.).  The  sensorial  reaction-time  also  im- 
proves in  rate  during  the  first  10  or  12  years  of 
life,  after  which  there  is,  apart  from  special  train- 
ing, a  gradual  dulling.  The  different  qualities  of 
each  sense  become  capable  of  discrimination  in  a 
regular  succession,  which,  according  to  some  ob- 
servers, follows  that  of  their  supposed  evolution  in 
the  race. 

The  development  of  visual  sensation  may  be  taken  as  an  illus- 
tration of  the  problem  and  of  the  obstacles  to  its  solution. 
There  is  very  great  difficulty  in  determining  whether  a  child 
has  or  has  not  a  power  to  perceive  and  distinguish  different 
colours.  Even  where  speech  is  appealed  to,  the  results  are  by 
no  means  conclusive.  The  earliest  attempt  to  determine  the 
order  in  which  the  different  visual  sensations  are  arrived  at 
was  that  of  Preyer  in  1882  (op.  tit.  infra,  ch.  1).  The  tests  were 
begun  in  the  third  quarter  of  the  second  year  of  life,  and  con- 
tinued to  the  fourth  year.  He  found  that  the  colours  yellow 
and  red  were  those  which  were  most  constantly  and  accurately 
named,  or  picked  out  when  the  names  were  given,  while  green 
and  blue  came  last ;  by  the  beginning  of  the  4th  year  the  child 
could  name  all  but  the  very  dark  or  light  shades  correotly. 
With  a  similar  method  Miss  Shinn  (op.  tit.  infra)  found  that  her 
subject  (a  little  girl)  was  successfully  trained  to  name  all  the 
colours  correctly,  before  the  end  of  the  second  year.  By  a 
special  method,  appealing  to  the  preference  of  the  child,  aB 
Bhown  by  its  selection  of  one  from  a  pair  of  colours,  Baldwin 
(Mental  Development,  pp.  39,  50)  concluded  that  a  child  of  9 
months  can  distinguish  all  the  colours,  and  has  a  distinct 
preference  for  blue.  The  above  were  individual  studies.  From 
a  thorough  collective  test  on  children,  boys  and  girls,  from  birth 
to  7  years,  by  a  'matching'  method,  Garbini  (Arch,  per I 'antrop. 
xxiv.,  Florence,  1894)  concluded  that  a  child  begins  to  develop 
the  power  of  discrimination  between  light  and  dark  during  the 
first  month  of  life  ;  and  to  distinguish  different  objects  by  their 
shade  or  brightness  in  the  second  month ;  it  is  not  till  the 
middle  of  the  second  year  that  he  has  any  perception  of  colour, 
and  then  it  is  red  which  is  first  marked  out;  green  begins  to 
be  added  about  the  end  of  the  second  year,  and  yellow  in  the 


686 


DEVELOPMENT  (Mental) 


course  of  the  third  year,  while  it  is  not  till  the  fourth  that  he 
can  distinguish  such  colours  as  orange,  blue,  violet,  etc.  In  the 
fifth  year  the  different  shades  of  the  same  colour  hecome  easily 
distinguished,  but  the  colour  vision  is  still  relatively  imperfect 
until  the  end  of  the  sixth  year.  Thus  the  order  of  development 
is  red,  green,  yellow ;  then  orange,  blue,  and  violet.  With 
regard  to  the  power  of  naming,  he  found  that  2  per  cent  of  the 
children  in  their  sixth  year  cannot  name  any  colour,  and  that 
only  35  per  cent  can  name  the  six  main  colours  given  above  ; 
the  power  to  name  a  colour  accurately  seems  to  follow,  in  about 
a  year's  space,  the  power  to  distinguish  the  colour  in  question. 
Ziegler,  in  1905  (Inaugural  Dissertation,  Zurich,  n.d.,  but  c. 
1905),  tried,  with  more  accurate  methods,  to  determine  the 
degree  of  colour  sensibility  in  200  children,  one  half  boys  and 
one  half  girls,  at  the  age  of  beginning  school  life  in  the  Munich 
schools.  The  '  matching '  method  gave  a  distinct  preference  in 
accuracy  of  matching  to  orange,  violet,  blue,  and  yellow  in  that 
order,  red,  grey,  and  green  being  relatively  less  accurately 
matched.  Black  and  white  were  invariably  correctly  placed. 
It  does  not,  of  course,  follow  that  the  order  of  correctness  in 
matching  corresponds  to  the  order  of  development ;  on  the 
contrary,  it  may  be  concluded  that  the  colours  were  preferred 
on  account  of  their  aesthetic  value,  their  novelty,  etc.  In  the 
naming  method  (the  child  giving  the  name)  the  order  of 
correctness  was  black,  white,  red,  blue,  green,  yellow,  with 
violet  and  orange  last ;  the  darker  shades  of  colour  on  the  whole 
were  better  named  than  the  lighter,  presumably  because  they 
were  more  familiar  to  the  children  ;  none  of  the  boys  could 
name  orange,  and  only  5  per  cent  of  the  girls.  Every  one  of 
the  tests  employed  brought  out  the  fact,  already  suggested  by 
other  observers,  that  girls  have  a  much  more  accurate  sense  of 
colour  than  boys.  Neither  Garbini  nor  Ziegler  found  that  any 
one  of  the  children  they  examined  was  colour-blind  (in  a  total 
of  750) ;  in  adults,  as  is  well  known,  colour-blindness  occurs 
much  more  frequently  among  men  than  among  women  ;  in  the 
former  case  the  frequency  is  variously  given  as  from  1  to  6  per 
cent.  It  is  probable  that  by  properly  devised  means  of  train- 
ing, the  colour  sense  of  children  might  be  greatly  developed, 
and  thereby  tjieir  general  mental  capacity  greatly  improved. 

(3)  The  development  of  perception  from  sensation 
takes  place  through  the  exercise  of  the  sensory  re- 
flexes, which  play  a  large  part  in  the  process  of 
attention.  Thus  a  child  does  not  at  first  see  objects 
either  as  clearly,  as  distinctly,  or  as  proportion- 
ately as  the  adult.  In  the  earlier  months  it  sees 
no  colours,  but  only  light  and  shade ;  it  has  no 
means  of  determining  the  distance  at  which  any 
seen  object  is ;  it  is  unable  to  fix  an  object  so  as  to 
obtain  a  clear  image  of  its  outlines  and  details  ;  it 
is  unable  to  determine,  and  indeed  has  no  concep- 
ception  of,  the  third  dimension  ;  objects  are  prob- 
ably seen  as  blotches  of  light  and  shade  merely ; 
it  has  no  power  of  distinguishing  a  real  from  a  re- 
flected or  imaged  object ;  in  short,  it  can  hardly 
be  said  to  have  any  perceptual  or  object-conscious- 
ness at  all,  through  sight  (Preyer,  op.  cit.  ch.  1). 
All  these  powers  are  gradually  acquired  through 
exercise  and  the  resulting  co-ordination  of  the 
movements  of  the  eyes  with  the  visual  sensations. 
The  three  sets  of  muscles  in  question  are  those  of 
accommodation,  by  which  the  object  is  clearly 
focused  ;  of  fixation,  by  which  the  obj  ect  is  brought 
into  the  centre  of  the  retina — the  part  of  the  eye 
which  is  most  sensitive  to  form  as  well  as  to  colour ; 
and  of  convergence,  by  which  binocular  vision  is 
determined,  and  the  two  eyes  are  guided  so  as  to 
obtain  single  vision  of  solid  objects.  These  co- 
ordinations are  only  acquired,  as  has  been  said, 
through  exercise ;  and  it  is  therefore  extremely 
important  that  a  child  should  be  given  all  possible 
opportunities  of  exercising  its  ocular  muscles  from 
the  very  first.  It  is  interest — instinctive  interest 
in  the  first  place — that  calls  forth  movements ; 
and,  where  objects  of  interest  are  not  presented, 
the  exercise  fails  to  take  place.  This  is  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  importance  of  environment  in  deciding 
development. 

The  following  gives  some  idea  of  the  dates  at  which  these 
powers  are  finally  achieved,  according  to  Preyer  and  others  (cf. 
Kirkpatrick,  op,  cit.  infra,  ch.  4).  The  protective  reflex  closing 
of  the  eyes  when  bright  light  falls  upon  them  is  present  almost 
immediately  after  birth ;  also  the  pupillary  reflex  (adaptation  to 
increase  or  decrease  of  light);  the  blinking  reflex,  when  an 
object  is  brought  close  to  the  eye,  is  not  immediately  present, 
but  occurs  after  a  few  weeks ;  atypio  or  independent  move- 
ments of  the  two  eyes  and  the  eyelids  (e.g.  one  eye  remain- 
ing fixed  while  the  other  moves,  or  the  eyes  being  turned 
downwards  while  the  eyelids  remain  fixed)  occur  occasionally 
until  the  beginning  of  the  second  month  ;  voluntary  fixation  is 


not  complete  until  about  the  end  of  the  first  quarter  year ; 
voluntary  and  accurate  convergence  according  to  the  distance 
of  objects  is  not  perfect  even  before  the  end  of  the  second  year  ; 
the  interpretation  of  visual  impressions  and  their  co-ordination 
with  bodily  movements  are  not  established  till  much  later. 

This  history  really  describes  the  origin  of  the  visual  percep- 
tions of  space  in  the  child ;  the  question  whether  the  idea  of 
space  is  innate  or  acquired  is  impossible  to  answer,  because  it 
is  wrongly  put.  The  child  is  not  born  with  a  ready-made  idea 
of  space  which  it  merely  applies  to  experiences  derived  from  the 
senses  (Kant),  but  neither  is  its  idea  of  space  a  product  of 
Bensations  and  of  associations  formed  between  the  images 
derived  from  the  sensations :  it  is  a  result  of  inter-action  be- 
tween sensations,  feelings  and  desires,  impulses  and  move- 
ments, to  which  in  each  case  the  '  disposition '  is  congenital, 
but  which  are  only  realized  and  combined  through  the  acquired 
experience  of  the  child  (cf.  Wundt's  'psychic  synthesis,'  and 
Stumpf's  '  synergy ').  The  evidence  from  the  born-blind,  who 
have  been  enabled,  by  an  operation,  to  see  in  later  life,  is  con- 
flicting. It  does  not  prove  that  they  at  first  see  only  colours 
and  brightness,  not  things  or  objects,  as  Preyer  argues.  It  is 
true,  however  that  they  are  entirely  unable  to  appreciate 
distance  (see  B.  Bourdon,  La  Perception  visuelle  de  Vespace, 
Paris,  1902,  ch.  13,  for  a  complete  account  of  these  observations, 
up  to  that  date).  A  similar  'synergy'  of  sensations,  feelings, 
and  attention  -  reflexes  goes  to  form  the  tactual  perceptions 
(extent,  hardness  and  softness,  sharpness  and  bluntness,  etc.) 
and  the  auditory  perceptions  (rhythm,  tone-interval,  melody, 
speech,  etc.). 

(4)  An  instinctive  action  is  a  response  evoked  in 
direct  relation  to  a  perception  of  some  kind,  while 
a  reflex  action  is  called  out  by  a  simple  sensation 
or  by  a  purely  physiological  stimulus.  The  differ- 
ence is  mainly  one  of  degree,  although  there  is 
undoubtedly  a  much  greater  power  of  control,  and 
liability  to  modification  on  the  ground  of  experi- 
ence, in  the  instinctive  than  in  the  reflex  action 
(see  discussion  on  '  Instinct  and  Intelligence '  in 
Brit.  Joum.  of  Psychol,  iii.  pt.  3  [1910]  by  Myers, 
Lloyd  Morgan,  Carr,  Stout,  and  Macdougall).  The 
following  is  a  classification  of  the  instincts  shown 
by  the  child,  modified  from  that  given  by  E.  A. 
Kirkpatrick  (ch.  4):  (1)  individual  instincts;  (2) 
social,  including  (a)  the  gregarious  instinct,  the 
instinct  to  be  with  others,  (6)  the  co-operative 
instinct,  to  act  with  others,  (c)  play,  (d)  imitation, 
(e)  expression  and  communication,  and  (/)  more 
complex  instincts  such  as  the  collective,  destructive, 
and  creative  instincts.  Such  an  instinct  implies 
three  things :  a  need  on  the  part  of  the  child 
(organic  sensation,  feeling,  impulse),  an  object 
capable  of  satisfying  this  need,  and  some  con- 
sciousness on  the  part  of  the  child  of  the  meaning 
of  the  object  in  relation  to  the  want  or  need.  It  is 
the  want  or  the  interest  which  determines  the 
direction  of  the  attention  towards  the  object. 
Thus  the  child's  whole  interest  is  absorbed  at  first 
by  the  needs  of  food  and  of  rest ;  its  grasping  and 
food-taking  instincts  are  the  first  to  express  them- 
selves ;  the  giver  of  food,  and  articles  used  in  con- 
nexion with  its  food,  are  the  first  objects  which  it 
learns  to  distinguish  and  recognize ;  later  the 
needs  of  its  sense-development  cause  interest  in 
objects  for  the  mere  sensations  they  give,  bright 
lights  and  colours,  loud  noises  and  musical  tones, 
etc.  At  this  stage  the  instinct  of  play  appears, 
especially  of  experimentation  play  and  of  move- 
ment play.  In  its  early  years  the  child  is  natur- 
ally self-centred  ;  it  is  biologically  of  advantage  to 
the  race  that  the  individualist  instincts  should  be 
strong  at  this  time.  Accordingly,  its  wants  are 
strongly  expressed  and  vigorously  insisted  upon. 
Yet  there  is  no  conscious  idea  of  the  self,  as  opposed 
in  interest  to  other  persons,  until  from  the  fourth  or 
fifth  year,  when  selfishness  in  the  strict  sense  of  the 
word  begins  to  appear,  controlled,  however,  by  the 
equally  instinctive  desire  for  social  approval.  The 
constant  desire  of  the  normal  child  to  be  with 
others,  especially  other  children,  his  shyness  to- 
wards strange  elders,  but  ready  acceptance  as 
playmates  of  other  children,  about  his  own  age, 
seen  for  the  first  time  ;  his  eagerness  to  accompany 
the  adults  of  his  family  in  all  their  goings  and  in 
all  their  activities  ;  his  constant  repetition  of  the 


DEVELOPMENT  (Mental) 


687 


actions  of  adults  in  his  play ;  his  treatment  of 
animal  pets,  younger  children,  dolls,  etc. — are 
illustrations  of  the  force  of  the  social  instincts  and 
of  their  part  in  the  development  of  the  social  con- 
sciousness. Later,  the  individualist  and  social 
instincts  combine  in  (i.)  the  impulse  of  self-display, 
adornment,  etc.  ;  (ii.)  the  impulse  to  co-operate 
with  others  for  common  ends,  in  games,  or  in 
school  and  household  or  farm  work;  (iii.)  the  im- 
pulse of  competition  and  rivalry,  which  tends  to 
the  rapid  development  of  the  physical  and  mental 
powers ;  (iv. )  with  expanding  imagination,  the 
sympathetic  feelings  arise,  and  the  impulse  to  help, 
to  defend,  to  support  others,  which  reaches  its 
height  in  the  unselfish  idealism  of  adolescence. 
The  progressive  appearance  of  these  instincts,  as 
also  those  of  play,  imitation,  emotional  expression 
and  speech,  determines  a  gradual  change  in  the 
interests  of  the  child,  aud  this  in  its  turn  reacts 
upon  its  intelligence  and  character.  (On  the  de- 
velopment of  instinct,  and  its  relation  to  interest, 
etc.,  see  Kirkpatrick  and  E.  Claparede,  opp.  citt.) 

(5)  Feelings  and  emotions. — It  has  been  recog- 
nized that  the  affective  life  of  the  child  is  propor- 
tionally much  more  extensive  than  that  of  the 
adult ;  as  judged  at  any  rate  by  his  expressions, 
the  child's  feelings  are  both  more  vivid  and  less 
enduring  than  those  of  the  adult ;  impressions 
when  they  reach  consciousness  at  all  are  felt  more 
keenly  and  are  responded  to  more  actively  and 
strongly.  This  is  true  both  of  pleasures  and  of 
pains.  On  the  other  hand,  the  feelings  are  not  so 
permanent ;  the  child  passes  rapidly  from  one  mood 
of  feeling  to  its  opposite — from  laughter  to  tears, 
from  anger  to  pity.  It  may  be  questioned,  how- 
ever, whether  the  actual  feelings  are  as  strong  as 
they  appear. 

Preyer  has  argued  that  the  child's  life  is  one  of  intense  feel- 
ing, and  that  in  it  pain  predominates  over  pleasure,  being  in 
fact  the  necessary  stimulus  to  development ;  against  this  it  may 
be  urged :  (a)  that  the  feelings  are  not  in  general  intense,  but 
that  their  apparent  erpression  is  really  an  instinctive  or  reflex 
act,  which  is  not  accompanied  by  so  many  internal  changes  as 
occur  in  adult  life,  and  hence  is  not  reflected  in  the  conscious 
life  to  the  same  extent  as  in  the  adult ;  (6)  that,  owing  to  the 
short  duration  of  the  feelings  and  other  factors,  pleasure 
predominates  largely  over  pain  even  in  the  youngest  child, 
with  normal  health ;  and  (c)  that  pleasure  is  a  stronger 
driving  force  than  pain  in  development,  as  in  evolution.  The 
general  happiness  of  healthy  children,  their  constant  play  and 
activity,  their  capacity  for  deep  and  prolonged  sleep,  are  all 
indications  that  this  is  the  truer  view  of  the  case.  Many  signs 
also — their  easy  recovery  from  wounds,  rapid  forgetfulness  of 
injury,  etc. — prove  that  the  young  child  has  a  much  lower 
degree  of  sensibility  to  physical  pain  than  the  adult. 

A  full  description  of  the  expressions  of  the  different  feelings 
and  emotions,  as  observed  in  the  child  from  birth  onwards,  is  to 
be  found  in  Preyer,  ch.  6.  The  classical  account,  for  animals 
and  man  alike,  is  Darwin's  Expression  of  the  Emotions  (London, 
1872).  That  even  so  complex  expressions  as  laughter  and  blush- 
ing are  congenital,  and  not  acquired  by  imitation,  is  shown  in 
Sir  A.  Mitchell's  About  Dreaming,  Laughing,  and  Blushing 
(Edin.  and  London,  1905).  Such  facts  do  not,  however,  solve 
the  question  whether  the  '  expression '  is  called  out  by  an  actual 
feeling,  or  whether  the  feeling  is  the  reverberation  in  conscious- 
ness of  the  expression,  which  it  thus  succeeds  in  time,  and 
which  is  directly  evoked  by  the  perception  of  the  situation 
(Lange-James  theory).  The  latter,  at  least,  is  probably  true 
genetically. 

An  interesting  question  is  as  to  whether  the  child  has  innate 
fears  or  dislikes  of  particular  objects  ;  for  example,  fear  of  the 
dark,  of  wind  and  storms,  of  animals,  etc. ;  or  whether  these 
fears  can  be  reduced  to  the  simpler  ones,  viz.  those  of  intense 
stimuli,  of  novel  stimuli,  or  the  like  ;  or  whether  they  are  due 
to  adult  suggestion.  Stanley  Hall  attributes  such  fears  to 
reminiscences,  emerging  in  the  child,  of  the  experience  of  its 
ancestors  at  far  distant  dates,  by  whom,  for  example,  dark  was 
feared  because  of  the  animals  and  enemies  attacking  in  it ;  so, 
wind  and  storms  were  feared  during  the  tree-life  of  man's 
ancestry,  while  wild  animals  in  the  same  way  must  have  been 
to  primitive  man,  as  to  the  still  more  remote  ancestors,  objects 
of  terror.  It  must  be  said,  however,  that  the  evidence  for  such 
instinctive  fears  of  definite  objects  or  classes  of  objects  is  by  no 
means  convincing  (cf.  Stanley  Hall,  Adolescence,  vol.  ii.  ch.  10, 
which  contains  a  general  statement  of  the  author's  position ; 
the  detailed  evidence  in  regard  to  child-emotions  is  collected  in 
numerous  reports,  by  himself  and  hi9  collaborators,  published 
in  the  Pedagogical  Seminary  and  in  AJPs). 

(6)  Development  of  the  will. — The  outward  life  of 


the  child  begins,  as  we  have  seen,  in  reflex,  instinct- 
ive, and  automatic  activity  undetermined  by  con- 
scious motives,  although  in  many  of  the  more 
complex  forms  an  accompanying  or  controlling 
consciousness  must  be  supposed  to  exist.  The 
term  '  impulse '  may  be  used  for  those  phases  of 
the  mind  by  which  such  actions  are  preceded,  or 
which  they  accompany  ;  such  an  impulse  does  not 
involve  any  idea  of  the  nature  of  the  action  to  be 
done,  or  of  more  than  the  immediate  means  by 
which  it  is  to  be  brought  about.  Thus  the  impulse 
to  expel  an  unpleasant  food,  or  any  food  when  the 
child  is  satiated,  does  not  involve  any  idea  of  the 
advantage  to  the  organism  which  the  expulsion 
brings,  or  of  the  muscular  actions  by  which  it  is 
carried  out ;  but  there  probably  is  some  conscious- 
ness of  the  position  of  the  food  in  the  mouth,  and 
the  parts  of  the  tongue  touched  by  it,  etc. ,  and  it 
is  by  this  sensation  that  the  action  is  definitely 
initiated  ;  it  is  probably  only  at  a  later  stage  that 
the  muscular  sensations  themselves  become  con- 
scious. The  impulse,  then,  is  simply  the  motor 
aspect  of  a  sensation  which  is  toned  with  feeling, 
positive  or  negative,  the  action  itself  lying  as  a 
whole  outside  consciousness.  Such  impulses  may 
be  supposed  to  accompany  all  those  actions  by 
which  the  organism  is  in  early  life  protected  from 
dangerous  stimulation,  and  by  which  objects  of 
advantage  to  it  are  brought  towards  the  body,  into 
the  mouth,  etc. ;  thus  these  impulses  are  always  in 
connexion  with  some  need  of  the  organism,  either 
prolonged  as  in  the  case  of  hunger,  or  momentary 
as  in  the  case  of  physical  pain.  A  second  stage  of 
development  is  arrived  at  when  (a)  the  individual 
begins  to  select  stimuli  or  sensations  on  the  basis 
of  personal  interest,  built  up  by  experiences ;  (6) 
when  memory  occurs  of  the  movements  by  which 
these  sensations  have  been  automatically  or  re- 
flexly  responded  to  ;  and  (c)  when,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  subjective  combination  and  synthesis 
of  sensations  in  perception,  the  movements  also 
begin  to  be  co-ordinated  and  controlled.  This  is 
the  stage  at  which  impulse  begins  to  be  replaced 
by  motived  action,  that  is  to  say,  by  will  in  some 
at  least  of  its  lower  forms. 

(a)  The  selection  of  sensations  is  at  first  provided 
for  by  the  needs  of  the  organism,  as  has  been  in- 
dicated above,  and  in  this  sense  will,  as  Hoffding 
suggests  (e.g.  Problems  of  Philosophy,i,ng.  tr.,  N.Y. 
1905,  p.  55,  Outlines  of  Psychol.,  Eng.  tr.,  Lond. 
1891,  sect.  4),  is  the  fundamental  fact  in  mental 
life,  and  is  present  from  the  very  beginning ;  later, 
however,  and  very  early  in  life,  the  selection  begins 
to  be  determined  on  the  ground  of  previous  experi- 
ence ;  that  is  to  say,  the  child  begins  to  seek  out 
those  impressions  which  have  previously  given  it 
pleasure,  and  not  merely  to  react  upon  impressions 
that  have  arrived  of  themselves.  Correlatively 
with  this,  it  begins  to  avoid  consciously  those  im- 
pressions which  have  been  already  experienced  as 
painful,  and  also  to  neglect  or  inhibit  impressions 
which  have  proved  indifferent  to  it,  not  being 
accompanied  by  any  positive  or  negative  feeling 
tone.  In  this  development  perception  gradually 
arises  through  the  combination  of  sensations  of  the 
same  or  different  classes  with  each  other,  or  with 
sub-conscious  memory  images ;  in  this  way  one 
impression  gradually  becomes  a  sign  or  symbol  of 
a  number  of  others,  and  especially  the  visual  im- 
pressions come  to  represent  or  stand  for  the 
tactual  impressions  to  which  they  had  ordinarily 
led,  and  which  may  be  reproduced  to  some  slight 
extent  in  memory,  on  the  arrival  of  the  visual 
impressions  themselves.1  The  pleasure  or  pain 
originally  attached  to  the  direct  impression  is  now 

1  On  this,  see  W.  James,  Principles  of  Psychology,  1891,  vol.  ii. 
chs.  17  on  '  Sensation,'  19  on  '  The  Perception  of  Things,'  and 
esp.  20  on  '  The  Perception  of  Space.' 


688 


DEVELOPMENT  (Mental) 


transferred  to  the  indirect,  as  when  the  child  shows 
pleasure  at  the  sight  of  a  rattle,  after  experience 
of  the  agreeable  noise  which  the  rattle  gives  in  its 
hands,  or  shows  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  its  food, 
before  the  actual  tasting  of  it.  It  is  unnecessary 
that  conscious  memory  of  the  former  experience 
should  arise,  and  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases  such 
memory  probably  does  not  arise ;  there  is  simply  a 
transfer  of  feeling,  and  in  consequence  a  transfer  of 
action  from  a  direct  impression  to  a  more  indirect 
one  uniformly  connected  with  the  former.  It  is  in 
the  case  of  these  indirect  impressions  that  interest 
gradually  develops,  and  that  conscious  and  indi- 
vidual selection  begins  to  take  place. 

(b)  The  movements  themselves  enter  conscious- 
ness partly  as  muscular  and  tactual  experiences,1 
partly  also  as  visual  experiences — in  the  case  of 
those  movements  which  the  child  can  see  itself 
carrying  out.  As  soon  as  the  memory  begins  to  be 
able  to  '  fixate '  such  consciousness,  the  child  learns 
to  modify  its  actions,  or  to  choose  between  various 
possible  actions,  in  response  to  sensations,  through 
remembering  the  success  or  failure  of  the  previous 
reactions. 

(c)  In  the  co-ordination  of  movements  there  are 
two  steps — the  inhibition  of  unessential  move- 
ments, and  the  reinforcement  and  connecting 
together  of  series  of  necessary  movements.  Reflex 
action  is  excessive,  uneconomical,  and  generally 
contains  a  large  number  of  movements  not  re- 
quired for  the  removal  of  the  particular  stimulus 
(H.  Ebbinghaus,  Grundziige  der  Psychol.,  pt.  i., 
Leipzig,  1897,  p.  124)  ;  for  example,  the  movements 
of  a  young  child  when  irritated  by  a  pin  in  its 
clothing.  With  the  development  of  perception,  the 
movements  become  more  limited,  are  brought  more 
under  the  control  of  consciousness,  until  in  a  par- 
ticular case  the  necessary  act  is  carried  out  in  the 
shortest  time,  and  with  the  minimum  of  effort.  It 
must  be  supposed  that  in  this  case  the  impulse  has 
come  to  be  associated  with  the  special  action, 
which  has  been  constantly  repeated  in  every 
experience  of  the  kind  ;  while  those  actions  which 
were  unessential,  and  therefore  were  not  repeated, 
or  not  always  repeated,  are  less  firmly  connected 
with  the  impulse,  and  become  finally  detached 
from  it.  Corresponding  with  this  limitation  in 
simpler  cases,  there  is  the  forming  of  chain  actions, 
or  series  of  actions,  in  more  complex  cases — for 
example,  in  learning  to  walk ;  the  several  move- 
ments necessary  have  come,  through  exercise  and 
through  conscious  effort,  to  be  gradually  cemented 
to  each  other,  so  that  later,  without  conscious 
effort,  the  one  tends  to  follow  the  other  in  the  same 
order  as  that  in  which  they  were  acquired  (see 
Preyer,  ch.  11).  Consciousness  still  retains  a  grasp, 
as  it  were,  of  the  whole  group  of  movements,  as  is 
shown  when  any  resistance  is  met,  or  any  error 
occurs  ;  but  it  does  so  only  in  a  general  way,  cover- 
ing a  larger  and  larger  span  in  its  grasp,  as  skill 
and  practice  increase  (J.  Jastrow,  op.  cit.,  chs.  3 
and  4). 

The  terms  '  habit '  and  '  practice '  refer  to  the 
forming  and  cementing  of  such  co-ordinations. 
When  out  of  several  possible  ways  of  doing  a  thing, 
or  of  acting,  one  has  actually  been  adopted,  then, 
if  the  situation  is  repeated,  the  former  action  tends 
to  be  adopted  again,  merely  from  the  fact  of  its 
earlier  occurrence.  The  same  is  true  of  a  con- 
nexion or  series  of  actions.  The  greater  the  num- 
ber of  times  the  action  has  been  done,  the  stronger 
the  tendency  to  repeat  it.  This  is  habit,  the 
primary  and  universal  condition  of  all  mental 
development.  Since  will  consists,  as  we  have  seen, 
in    selective   activity,  it   is   formally  opposed   to 

1  On  the  whole  q-lestion  of  the  nature  of  our  consciousness  of 
movement,  and  itp  function  in  mental  development,  see  Wundt, 
op.  ait.  ii.  474  f.t  B'jdf.,  iii.  307  f. 


habit ;  but,  in  reality,  neither  it  nor  any  other 
higher  mental  power  is  possible  except  on  the  basis 
of  habit.  Walking,  running,  listening,  looking, 
smelling,  tasting,  dressing,  speaking,  and  hundreds 
of  other  skilled  actions,  which  form  elementary 
parts  of  more  complex,  voluntary,  and  deliberate 
actions,  are  in  us  habitual  acts  become  uncon- 
scious and  mechanical  through  repetition.  Adults 
and  children  differ  widely  in  the  rapidity  with 
which  a  habit  is  formed,  in  the  tenacity  with  which 
it  is  retained,  and  in  the  promptness  with  which  it 
is  exercised.  With  age  the  power  to  form  new 
habits  slowly  declines,  and  also  the  power  to  resist 
or  overcome  habits  when  formed.  To  some  extent 
this  is  due  to  the  decreasing  vitality  of  the  nervous 
system,  but  mainly  to  the  fact  that  habit  corre- 
sponds to  the  organizing  of  connexions  between 
different  parts  of  the  cerebral  system  :  the  greater 
the  number  of  these,  and  the  greater  their  strength 
or  firmness  through  repetition,  the  less  the  likeli- 
hood of  a  new  associative  connexion  being  formed 
or  old  ones  broken  up  (see  James,  op.  cit.,  ch.  4; 
Ebbinghaus,  Grundziige  der  Psychol. ,  pt.  ii. ,  Leipzig, 
1902,  p.  672).  The  development  of  the  will  is  also 
conditioned  by  the  general  changes  both  in  the 
intensity  of  feelings  and  in  the  objects  to  which 
they  attach.  At  first,  as  we  have  seen,  the  child's 
feelings  are  entirely  determined  by  its  organic 
needs ;  later,  repetition  and  instinctive  experi- 
mentation and  play  bring  new  experiences  of 
pleasure  and  of  pain,  not  so  directly  connected 
with  the  requirements  of  the  organism  ;  the  objects 
of  such  feelings  are  retained  in  memory,  and  the 
thought  of  them,  or  the  perception  of  them,  forms 
new  motives  of  action  ;  the  actions  are  governed 
by  ideal  rather  than  by  direct  sensory  motives. 
(On  the  development  and  influence  of  feeling,  see 
T.  Ziegler,  Das  Gefiihl,  Stuttgart,  1893.) 

The  most  direct  indication  of  the  nature  of  an 
individual's  will  is  to  be  found  in  the  character- 
istics of  his  attention  (q.v.).  Neither  will  nor 
attention,  however,  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  general 
power,  which  can  be  directed  indifferently  upon 
this  or  that  impression  or  action,  or  can  be  moved 
from  one  to  the  other.  They  are  simply  general 
names  for  a  class  of  particular  phenomena,  which 
possess  certain  features  in  common.  The  charac- 
teristic of  acts  of  attention  is  that  a  part  of  the 
field  of  consciousness  is  selected  from  the  rest, 
becoming  clear  and  distinct,  persisting  longer  than 
it  otherwise  would,  and  thereby  becoming  more 
adequately  known,  and  tending  to  realize  itself 
more  effectively  in  action.  The  means  by  which 
this  change  is  effected  are  either  external,  as  when 
the  senses  are  focused  upon  the  impression,  irrele- 
vant movements  inhibited,  and  the  like ;  or  internal, 
as  when  convergent  associate  ideas  are  called  up 
from  past  experience.  The  underlying  conditions 
are  the  intensity  of  the  impression  or  idea  itself, 
the  strength  of  the  interest  to  which  it  corre- 
sponds, the  feeling  aroused,  and  the  development 
of  the  muscular  system  by  which  the  focusing 
or  '  fixating '  and  controlling  of  impressions  is 
effected.  In  all  these  respects  the  child  undergoes 
a  gradual  development.  A  distinction  is  familiarly 
drawn  between  spontaneous  or  natural,  and  volun- 
tary or  acquired,  attention  ;  the  former  is  supposed 
to  be  characteristic  of  the  child,  the  latter  a  pro- 
duct of  education.1  These  are  not,  however, 
differences  in  attention  itself  ;  they  are  differences 
only  in  the  interests  which  lie  behind  the  act  of 
attention. 

Thus  interests  are  either  primary — those  pro- 
vided by  the  innate  instincts  of  the  child — or 
secondary — those  due  to  the  acquired  experience 
and  reflexion  which  life  and  education  call  out. 


1  Th.    Ribot,    Psychol,    of    Attention,    En^r 
(SChicagro,  1886). 


tr.,    N.Y.    1889 


DEVELOPMENT  (Mental) 


689 


It  is,  therefore,  natural  tUat  voluntary  attention  to 
objects  which  are  primarily  without  interest  in 
themselves  should  succeed  the  more  elementary 
expressions  of  attention  in  child  life.  It  is  also 
clear  that,  where  an  individual  is  incapable  of 
prolonged  primary  attention,  he  will  be  incapable 
of  the  education  which  voluntary  attention  pre- 
supposes. This  occurs,  for  example,  both  in  idiot 
and  in  imbecile  children,  and  to  a  certain  extent 
causes  typical  differences  between  normal  indi- 
viduals also.  Wherever,  owing  to  the  weakness  or 
disease  of  the  brain  or  nervous  system,  sensation 
is  less  vivid,  or  movement  less  rapid  and  less  vigor- 
ous, or  instincts  and  feelings  less  strong,  there 
the  attention  will  be  correspondingly  difficult  to 
catch  or  to  hold,  with  resulting  defect  in  mental 
development.  Ability  to  work  for  continuous 
spells,  and  ability  to  profit  by  discipline,  to  ap- 
preciate rewards  and  punishments,  depend  mainly 
upon  the  power  to  focus  and  retain  impressions 
long  enough  to  associate  them  with  one  another, 
and  to  compare  them  with  similar  experiences  in 
the  past.1 

A  second  typical  difference  in  attention  is  that 
between  concentration  and  distribution  ;  the  term 
'  concentration  '  refers  to  the  effect  which  attention 
usually  has  of  narrowing  or  limiting  consciousness, 
or  at  least  effective  consciousness,  to  some  small 
portion  of  a  real  or  ideal  situation ;  the  mind  is 
absorbed  by  some  particular  interest,  and  impres- 
sions or  ideas  that  would  otherwise  have  stimulated 
feeling  and  action  are  kept  on  the  verge  of  con- 
sciousness, or  entirely  repressed.  The  familiar 
illustrations  of  absence  of  mind  on  the  part  of 
men  of  genius  will  readily  occur  as  an  instance. 
Concentration  or  specialization  is  thus  a  condition 
of  effective  mental  progress.  '  Distribution '  of  at- 
tention, on  the  other  hand,  refers  to  the  power  to 
appreciate  and  attend  to  a  number  of  diverse 
impressions  or  ideas  simultaneously  ;  it  is  in  many 
respects  a  valuable  power,  as,  for  example,  in  the 
teacher,  who  must,  while  his  main  attention  is 
given  to  his  subject,  also  have  regard  to  the 
positions  and  actions  of  the  different  children  in 
the  class  ;  the  conductor  of  a  choir,  the  director  of 
an  orchestra,  and  the  organizer  generally,  are  other 
instances  of  the  same  ability.  It  is  immaterial,  for 
our  present  purpose,  whether  there  is  any  real 
division  of  attention  in  a  given  moment,  or  whether 
distribution  depends  rather  on  rapid  alternations 
of  the  attention  from  one  fact  to  another.  In  the 
normal  individual,  concentration  and  distribution 
are  inverse  to  one  another ;  the  greater  the  one, 
the  less  the  other.  But  concentration  does  not 
necessarily  mean  intensity,  nor  does  distribution 
necessarily  mean  that  the  different  impressions 
attended  to  at  the  moment  are  ineffectively  ap- 
preciated. It  obviously  depends  upon  education 
and  training  to  what  extent  distribution  can  be 
carried.  Children,  and  animals  also,  show  great 
concentration  where  the  primary  instincts  are  in- 
volved, but  defective  concentration  in  the  case  of 
secondary  interests ;  one  of  the  chief  problems  of 
the  teacher  is  to  increase  the  concentration-value 
of  the  latter.  Some  children  are  never  able  to 
acquire  this  power  to  the  normal  extent,  and  in 
consequence  remain  all  their  lives  an  easy  prey  to 
distraction. 

A  third  typical  difference  is  in  the  steadiness  or 
fluctuation  of  the  attention.  Meumann  uses  the 
term  '  fixating  attention '  for  the  former  of  these 
types  ;  it  is  that  which  is  able  to  keep  away  side 
impressions  and  ideas,  and  to  take  in  only  the 
impressions  that  are  directly  before  it ;  in  this  way 
it  represents  an  objective,  observing,  recording  type 
of  mind  -.  thus  a  picture,  a  sentence,  any  group  of 
materials,  when  attended  to,  is  appreciated  as  it  is, 
1  Sollier,  loc.  cit. 
vol.  IV. — 44 


The  '  fluctuating '  type,  on  the  other  hand,  is  liable 
to  be  caught  both  by  sensory  impressions  and  by 
memories  or  ideas  which  are  not  directly  connected 
with  the  object  presented  ;  hence  it  tends  to  trans- 
form the  material  given  to  it,  taking  a  superficial 
outline  view,  passing  rapidly  from  the  object  to 
its  meaning  or  associations  :  it  is  a  subjective  or 
imaginative  type.  In  childhood  the  latter  is  much 
more  frequent,  and,  in  fact,  may  be  regarded  as  a 
characteristic  child  form  of  attention  ;  the  power 
to  see  or  hear  things  as  they  are  is  one  which  has 
to  be  acquired  by  education  (Meumann,  i.  499  8'.). 

(7)  Memory. — In  memory,  three  phases  or  func- 
tions must  be  distinguished — immediate  memory 
(as  illustrated  by  'learning  by  heart'),  retention, 
and  reproduction  or  recognition  ;  these  three  phases 
are  subject  to  different  conditions,  and  vary  in- 
dependently of  each  other  in  different  individuals, 
and  at  different  stages  of  mental  development. 
Immediate  memory  has  been  shown  to  improve 
steadily  with  age  (as  tested,  for  example,  by  the 
number  of  syllables  or  words  which  can  be  repio- 
duced  after  a  single  exposure,  or  by  the  length  of 
time  required  to  learn  a  given  number  of  syllables 
or  words  by  heart),  and  Meumann  has  found  that 
even  into  late  adult  life  this  capacity  is  capable  of 
great  improvement  through  practice.1  The  method 
of  memorizing  also  changes  with  age,  the  young 
child  depending  entirely  on  mechanical  association 
between  the  different  members  of  the  series  tested, 
the  adult  depending  more  and  more  upon  associa- 
tions of  meaning,  upon  rhythm  and  other  forms  of 
grouping.  On  the  other  hand,  retentiveness,  as 
measured  by  the  rate  of  forgetting,  or  the  amount 
forgotten  after  a  given  interval,  reaches  its  maxi- 
mum about  the  10th  or  12th  year  of  life,  and 
decreases  slowly  but  steadily  from  that  time  on- 
wardsfE.  Meumann, Exper. Padagogik,  i.  170f.,and 
esp.  p.  192).  That  is  to  say,  young  children  have 
greater  difficulty  in  learning  than  older  children  ; 
with  practice  an  individual  may  improve  in  this 
faculty  almost,  if  not  quite,  up  to  middle  age  ;  at 
the  same  time,  children  retain  what  they  have 
learned  for  a  longer  time  and  more  accurately 
than  the  adult  under  the  same  conditions.  The 
fact  that  memories  whieh  go  back  to  early  child- 
hood (earlier  than  the  5th  year)  are  relatively 
rare,  the  fact  that  children  who  have  become 
deaf  before  the  5th  year  tend  to  lose  the  power  of 
speech  they  may  already  have  acquired  (from  the 
lapse  of  the  auditory  memories,  and  inability  to 
acquire  new  auditory  impressions),  that  children 
who  have  become  blind  before  the  5th  year,  and 
even  to  some  extent  up  to  the  7th  year,  rapidly 
lose  their  visual  memories,  and  rarely,  if  ever,  in 
after  life  have  visual  dreams,  and  the  correspond- 
ing phenomena  in  the  case  of  amputated  limbs 
(J.  Jastrow,  W.  James  [see  M.  de  Manaceine,  Sleep, 
London,  1897,  ch.  4])— all  these  facts  correspond 
accurately  with  the  incomplete  development  of  the 
cerebral  connexions  before  the  end  of  the  5th  year. 
Finally,  reproduction,  that  is,  the  rate,  accuracy, 
and  fertility  of  association  and  of  voluntary 
memory,  in  which  there  are  strong  individual 
differences,  tends  to  improve  with  age  and  with 
practice  continuously  up  to  about  the  50th  year. 

A  much-debated  question  is  how  far  training  or 
practice  in  one  field  of  memory  is  transferable  to 
another — a  question  closely  connected  with  that  as 
to  whether  memory  is  a  general  power  or  faculty, 
or  simply  a  combination  of  particular  experiences 
which  are  somehow  stored  in  the  brain  of  the  in- 
dividual. In  the  latter  case  it  is  obvious  that 
memorizing  any  particular  material,  while  it  in- 
1  In  the  genera]  improvement  there  are  occasional  retarda- 
tions, e.g.  at  the  age  of  10  to  12  (girls)  and  12  to  14  (boys).  Girls 
ar^  in  advance  of  boys  till  about  16.  when  the  latter  overtake 
and  pass  them.  It  is  said  that  the  young  profit  less  than  adulta 
from  practice,  but  that  any  gain  is  more  permanent. 


690 


DEVELOPMENT  (Mental) 


creases  the  amount  we  are  able  to  recall,  and 
through  association  of  ideas  makes  it  easier  to 
learn  similar  material,  still  does  not  add  to  our 
stock  in  any  other  field,  or  help  us  to  acquire 
such  more  easily.  Exercising  the  visual  memory 
improves  that  memory  itself,  but  does  not  improve 
the  auditive  memory,  without  special  practice  in 
it  also.  The  greater  number  of  observers  decide 
against  such  transfer  of  improvement,  or  the  possi- 
bility or  value  of  '  formal  training '  ;  on  the  other 
hand,  some  recent  studies  (Meumann.  Winch, 
etc.)  seem  to  show  that  a  very  substantial  gain 
can  actually  be  transferred,  whatever  the  inter- 
pretation of  it  may  be.  The  interpretation  to 
which  most  of  the  facts  point  is  a  training  of  the 
attention,  that  is,  of  the  nerve-centres  and  muscles 
which  are  involved  in  the  accurate  and  ready  up- 
take of  an  impression,  and  its  retention  in  the 
field  of  observation ;  and  those  muscles  also  by 
which  the  control  or  suppression  of  distracting 
impressions,  and  the  reinforcement  of  associative 
impressions,  are  carried  out.  Such  capacities  can 
undoubtedly  be  transferred — for  example,  from  one 
kind  of  visual  material  to  any  other — and,  as  the 
experiments  show  that  the  transfer  is  greatest  with 
a  material  similar  to  that  in  which  the  improve- 
ment has  been  actually  acquired,  this  entirely  har- 
monizes with  the  above  suggestion.  The  practical 
conclusions  are  :  (a)  that  much  of  what  a  child 
learns  at  school  and  afterwards  forgets  is  not 
necessarily  pure  loss — the  exercise  in  learning  is 
to  a  great  extent  at  least  transferable  to  later 
occupations  ;  (b)  the  use  of  purely  mechanical  and 
meaningless  materials,  for  the  formal  exercise  of 
the  senses,  and  especially  of  the  memory,  seems 
to  be  '  indicated '  as  a  pedagogical  method  by  the 
experimental  results. 

(8)  Imagery  and  imagery  types. — Fechner,  Gal- 
ton,  Charcot,  and  other  more  recent  observers 
have  given  ample  evidence  that  individuals  in 
adult  life  differ  widely,  and  in  certain  typical 
forms,  as  regards  the  sensorial  material  in  which 
their  '  thinking '  is  carried  on  ;  the  visualist  deal- 
ing mainly  in  images  derived  from  optical  experi- 
ences ;  the  auditive  in  images  of  sound  derived 
from  acoustic  experiences ;  and  the  kinossthetic  or 
motor  type  in  images,  memories,  or  even  'nascent 
sensations'  repeating  the  tactual  and  muscular 
experiences  of  the  past.  '  Thinking,'  however,  has 
two  broadly  different  senses,  according  as  it  means 
picture-thinking,  as  in  reverie,  or  word-thinking, 
as  in  abstract  reasoning  or  scientific  work.  Much 
of  our  important  thinking  is  done  by  means  of 
words  as  signs  or  representatives  of  experiences, 
without  employing  the  actual  memory  pictures 
of  the  experiences  themselves.  The  majority  of 
individuals  are  probably  of  a  mixed  type,  both 
for  picture  and  even  perhaps  for  verbal  thinking ; 
but  the  enormous  predominance  of  visual  experi- 
ences in  our  lives  compels  all  of  us  to  use  visual 
memories  to  a  large  extent,  while  the  methods  of 
school  teaching,  and  the  necessary  use  of  the  ears 
and  vocal  muscles  in  speech,  render  most  of  us  of 
an  acoustic-motile  type  in  word-thinking.  Again, 
the  majority  of  individuals  are  probably  unable  to 
give  to  their  favourite  field  of  imagination  such  an 
exclusive  exercise  or  training  as  is  necessary  to 
develop  purity  of  type ;  a  boy  who  is  articled  to 
an  architect,  and  who  is  by  nature  an  auditive, 
must  cultivate  visualizing  or  fail  in  his  profession. 
It  seems  to  be  proved  that  in  children,  perhaps 
owing  to  the  method  of  education,  auditive  imagery 
predominates  in  the  early  years,  but  is  more  and 
more  displaced  in  importance  by  visual  imagery 
as  age  increases ;  again,  that  even  in  the  case  of 
visual  imagery  the  vividness  and  '  warmth '  of 
imagery  decrease  with  age ;  thus,  according  to 
one  report  (Miss  Calkins)  at  least  9  per  cent  of 


students  have  very  little  or  no  colour  imagery  ; 
while  in  the  average  scientist,  according  to  Galton, 
the  power  of  visualizing  appears  to  have  been 
entirely  lost ;  abstract  thought  tends  to  weaken 
imagery — in  other  words,  verbal  tends  to  replace 
picture-  or  object-thinking.  The  following  are 
some  of  the  indications  by  which  the  type  of  a 
given  individual  can  be  determined  with  some  de- 
gree of  accuracy  ;  at  the  same  time  they  illustrate 
the  functioning  of  the  different  characteristics. 

(1)  The  object-type  can  be  determined  by  observing  to  what 
extent  the  descriptions  of  visual  scenes  in  literature  are  realized 
by  the  individual,  or  dialogues  and  conversations  in  plays  and 
novels  (auditive),  or  the  extent  to  which  deeds  and  feats  of  skill 
reverberate,  so  to  speak,  in  the  individual's  organism  in  reading 
accounts  of  them ;  and  how  far  organic  sensations  and  memories 
accompany  the  reading  or  the  hearing  of  affecting  or  emo- 
tional passages  in  literature,  etc. ;  also  by  the  trade  or  occupa- 
tion which  is  preferred  by  an  individual,  his  hobbies,  the  kind 
of  games,  physical  and  mental,  in  which  he  indulges,  his  tastes 
in  art  or  in  literature,  and  especially  his  creative  powers  in 
these  fields. 

(2)  The  verbal  type  is  indicated :  (a)  by  the  way  in  which  an 
individual  sets  about  learning  by  heart  a  poem  or  passage  in  a 
book  ;  whether  he  does  so  by  frequently  repeating  the  passage 
over,  aloud  or  half  aloud  (kincestfietic),  or  whether  he  translates 
the  printed  words  into  inner  Bpeech  (auditive),  or  learns  it  by 
steadily  fixing  the  eyes  upon  it  and  reading  it  over  (visualist) ; 
in  the  last  case  the  subject  is  usually  able  accurately  to  refer 
to  the  page  in  the  book,  when  recalling  the  passage,  seeing  it 
printed  up  before  his  mental  vision ;  he  can  readily  find  the  pass- 
age in  a  book  where  he  has  left  off  reading,  and  can  refer 
for  any  desired  passage  to  the  page  on  which  it  occurs.  (6)  The 
various  slips  that  are  made  in  speaking  or  writing  are  good 
indications  of  whether  the  Bubject  is  thinking  in  auditive  or  in 
visual  words,  the  former  confusing  words  with  a  similar  sound, 
the  latter  confusing  words  with  a  similar  appearance,  (c)  In 
syllables  or  meaningless  material,  the  visualist  retains  the  con- 
sonants more  accurately,  the  auditive  the  vowels :  and  again 
the  visualist's  errors  tend  to  be  those  of  omission,  while  the 
auditive's  tend  to  be  errors  of  order  or  of  position,  (d)  The 
visualist  can  with  great  ease  read  backwards  a  series  of  impres- 
sions laid  to  heart,  since  they  are,  as  it  were,  printed  up  before 
his  mind,  while  the  auditive  or  kinesthetic  has  great,  or  at 
least  greater,  difficulty  in  doing  the  same  ;  the  one  takes  a  short, 
the  other  a  long  time  to  accomplish  the  feat,  if  it  is  possible 
at  all.  (e)  Segal  (Arch.,  f.  d.  gesamte  Psychol,  xii.  [1908])  adds 
the  following  signs  :  the  visualist  frequently  shuts  his  eyes  and 
covers  them  when  recalling  a  memory :  his  recall  is  slower  than 
that  of  the  auditive  ;  usually  the  latter  remembers  the  material 
in  groups,  while  the  visualist  remembers  parts  Bingly  and  separ- 
ately. But  visualists  retain  poetry  or  prose  more  accurately 
than  others,  and  do  not  repeat  parts  already  given,  while 
auditives  and  kinsesthetics  reproduce  more  rapidly,  but  in  less 
quantity,  and  often  with  unconscious  repetitions.  When  he 
does  not  repeat  the  material  in  its  proper  order,  it  is  with  the 
last  few  words  or  syllables  that  the  auditive  begins  ;  and  when 
the  task  is  accomplished,  the  material  as  a  rule  disappears  at 
once  out  of  his  memory,  unless  he  re-learns  it  frequently. 

In  regard  to  the  importance  of  these  differences 
for  mental  development,  it  should  be  remembered 
that  the  question  is  never  one  of  an  exclusive  use 
of  a  single  class  of  imagery  ;  it  is  merely  a  question 
of  the  predominance  of  one  over  others  ;  but  occa- 
sionally there  occur  cases  in  which  one  or  other 
form  of  imagery  is  completely  lacking.  Normally, 
however,  every  one  is  both  an  object- thinker  and 
a  word-thinker,  at  different  times,  and  uses  in 
the  former  case  alike  visual,  auditive,  and  motor 
imagery.  Nevertheless,  it  is  true  that  in  children 
object-thinking  predominates  greatly  over  verbal 
thinking  until  about  the  age  of  14,  when,  in  civil- 
ized life,  word-thinking  begins  to  occupy  a  larger 
space :  thus,  when  a  child  under  14  is  reading  or 
listening  to  speech,  it  tends  to  fill  out  the  meaning 
of  the  words,  to  '  body '  them  out  concretely  in  its 
mind,  to  a  much  greater  extent  than  the  adult 
does.  It  has  been  pointed  out  that,  while  the 
majority  of  adults  are  visualists  in  object-thinking, 
the  majority  are  also  acoustic-motile  in  word- 
thinking.  Children  probably  use  a  greater  variety 
of  kinds  of  imagery  than  adults.  Nevertheless,  it 
will  be  found  that  in  mental  work  one  of  the 
classes  or  forms  predominates  over  the  others. 
Since  education  appeals  increasingly  to  visual  per- 
ception, it  follows  that  a  child  whose  natural  type 
is  the  auditive  one  has  little  opportunity  of  per- 
fecting this  type  till  after  school-life  is  over  ;  hence 
in  general  the  type  is  uncertain  until  the  age  of  16 


DEVELOPMENT  (Mental) 


691 


or  so.  There  is  throughout  a  higher  prevalence  of 
pure  visualists  among  girls  than  among  boys.  It 
is  of  course  clear  that  a  child  will  learn  more  easily, 
more  quickly,  and  retain  for  a  longer  time  material 
learned  through  his  special  and  dominating  form 
of  imagery  ;  and  conversely,  that  the  teacher  will 
naturally  teach,  and  will  best  teach,  by  the  use  of 
his  special  form.  Hence  a  certain  amount  of  con- 
sideration is  necessary  in  school  work,  both  to  the 
type  of  the  child  and  to  the  type  of  the  teacher. 
On  the  other  hand,  as  has  been  remarked,  the 
average  child  is  of  a  mixed  type,  and  the  average 
teacher  also ;  while  under  modern  conditions  famili- 
arity with  different  media  is  essential  for  all.  The 
conclusion  is  that  the  teachers  should  try  to  con- 
vey knowledge  of  any  subject  by  as  many  senses 
as  possible,  and  that  care  should  always  be  taken 
to  determine  whether  apparent  incapacity  in  a 
child  to  learn  a  particular  subject  (e.g.  geography) 
is  not  due  rather  to  a  deficiency  in  the  imagery  to 
which  appeal  is  made  than  to  dullness  or  inatten- 
tion. (A  full  account  of  recent  work  on  this  subject 
is  to  be  found  in  E.  Meumann,  Exper.  Padagogik, 
i.,  esp.  p.  435  f.) 

It  is  a  matter  of  dispute  how  the  power  of  abs- 
traction, and  thinking  in  general,  are  related  to 
imagery  ;  there  can  be  no  doubt  that,  genetically, 
the  concrete  image  precedes  the  abstract,  or  sym- 
bolic, thought,  and  that  in  general  a  training  of  the 
imagination  is  of  great  value  in  preparation  for 
scientific  thought  and  practical  reasoning  (see  A. 
Binet,  L' Intelligence,  Paris,  1903 ;  E.  Meumann, 
Intelligem  una  Wille,  Leipzig,  1908).  On  the 
general  subject  of  the  psychological  nature  of 
thought  and  its  relation  to  imagery,  see  the  dis- 
cussion by  Titchener  of  the  work  of  Ach,  Binet, 
Biihler,  Messer,  and  Watt,  in  his  Experimental 
Psychology  of  the  Thought  Process,  N.Y.  1909. 

(9)  Language  and  abstract  thought. — Many  lines 
of  evidence  both  from  race  psychology  and  from 
individual  psychology  go  to  prove  that  the  language 
of  its  parents  is  in  no  sense  whatever  innate  in 
the  child,  and  that  none  even  of  the  conditions 
which  have  led  to  the  differentiation  of  its  parents' 
language  from  other  languages  is  innate.  (On  this 
question,  see  L.  W.  Stern,  Helen  Keller,  Berlin, 
1905.)  What  is  really  innate  is  the  instinct  of 
expression,  and  the  various  special  forms  which 
this  instinct  takes — facial,  vocal,  gesture,  etc.  As 
it  is  certainly  on  these  that  language  has,  racially, 
been  built  up,  so  in  the  child  they  precede  all 
knowledge  of  language.  As  illustration  of  the 
former  point,  experience  shows  that  any  child 
can  learn  any  language  whatsoever,  provided  it 
is  brought  up  among  a  people  speaking  that  lan- 
guage ;  and  that  no  child  has  any  special  difficulty 
even  in  learning  the  language  which  is  most  remote 
in  its  sounds,  signs,  or  grammar  from  the  language 
of  its  parents.  Again,  it  is  known  that  the  most 
complex  thoughts  and  emotions  are  equally  well 
expressible  in  any  mode  of  language  whatsoever, 
including  under  this  not  merely  speech  and  ordi- 
nary gesture  languages,  but  even  such  highly  arti- 
ficial languages  as  those  taught  to  deaf-mutes,  etc. 
The  stages  at  which  a  child  acquires  the  language 
of  its  environment  may  be  stated  as  follows  i1  (1) 
the  reflex  and  instinctive  expressions  of  emotion  on 
the  child's  own  part ;  (2)  the  imitation  of  the  sounds 
made  by  its  parents  and  others  in  their  speech  ;  (3) 
the  frequent  repetition  of  signs  and  sounds — com- 
plexes found  pleasant  to  itself;  on  the  receptive 
side  :  (4)  the  gradual  discrimination  of  the  sounds 
heard  in  the  speech  of  its  parents  ;  (5)  the  associa- 
tion between  a  particular  sound  and  the  object  to 
1  On  the  development  of  language  in  the  child,  see  Sully,  ch. 
6  ;  Preyer,  ch.  16  ff.  ;  W.  Ament,  Die  Entwicklung  von  Sprechen 
und  Denken  beim  Kinde,  Leipzig,  1899,  p.  213 ;  Chamberlain, 
ch.  5 ;  and  Ament,  *  Fortschritte  in  Kinderseelenkunde,'  in 
Arch.  f.  d.  gesamle  Psychol,  ii.  (1904). 


which  it  is  referred  by  the  parents  ;  (6)  the  forma- 
tion of  an  idea  of  the  meaning  or  connotation  of 
the  words,  derived  from  these  associations  (apper- 
ception) ;  and  (7)  the  gradual  correction  of  such 
ideas  by  experience.  The  conditions  of  develop- 
ment are  keen  auditive  perception  on  the  part  of 
the  child,  opportunity  of  hearing  varied  speech  in 
its  environment,  and  freedom  to  exercise  its  lin- 
guistic powers,  in  play  or  otherwise,  as  it  seems 
inclined.1 

The  relation  of  writing  to  speech  may  be  touched 
upon  here.  Evidence  shows  that  the  child  is  ear- 
minded  before  it  is  eye-minded,  and  that  it  is  able 
to  learn  by  ear  much  more  rapidly  and  more  tena- 
ciously than  by  sight ;  people  among  whom  there 
is  a  large  percentage  of  illiterates  are  frequently, 
as  Borrow  noticed  among  the  Portuguese  (Bible  in 
Spain,  ch.  i.),  brilliant  and  correct  speakers  ;  the 
probability  is  that  the  child  would  profit  if  in  this 
respect  its  development  were  assimilated  to  the 
evolution  of  the  race,  so  that  (for  example)  writing 
and  reading  were  not  taught  until  it  had  reached 
about  its  10th  year.  By  this  time  it  might  have 
acquired  two  or  more  languages  by  the  ear  alone, 
and  would  probably  for  the  future  have  a  much 
more  easy  command  of  its  speech  than  children 
ordinarily  acquire  under  our  present  system  (Cham- 
berlain, ch.  5). 

6.  Abnormalities  of  development.  —  Defective 
children. — Where  there  is  an  actual  loss  of  one  or 
more  of  the  senses,  whether  through  injury  or 
defect  of  the  sense-organ,  or  from  lesion  of  the 
central  organ  in  the  brain,  the  resulting  defects 
are  due  rather  to  lack  of  material  (e.g.  deaf- 
mutism)  than  to  any  defect  in  the  mental  powers 
themselves,  and  can  be  compensated  by  adequate 
training,  as  the  celebrated  cases  of  Laura  Bridgman 
and  Helen  Keller  show.  Apart  from  these  cases, 
defective  children  may  be  grouped  in  the  following 
classes :  backward  children,  the  feeble-minded, 
imbeciles,  idiots,  and  the  demented.  The  last  are 
those  who,  through  injury  in  childhood  to  the 
central  nervous  system,  or  through  a  disease  of 
that  system  both  congenital  and  progressive, 
gradually  lose  any  acquired  mental  faculty  they 
may  possess,  and  therefore  not  only  fail  to  develop 
further,  but  actually  regress,  perhaps  to  a  purely 
instinctive  or  even  reflex  and  automatic  or  vegeta- 
tive level.  Idiocy,  on  the  other  hand,  springs  from 
a  lesion  or  defect  of  the  cerebrum,  either  congenital 
or  occurring  in  early  childhood,  carrying  as  its 
consequence  a  lowered  general  vitality,  and  especi- 
ally a  lowered  sensitiveness  and  power  of  move- 
ment, as  a  consequence  of  which  the  individual  is 
almost  or  entirely  unable  to  acquire  the  education 
which  is  regarded  as  the  standard  in  his  country 
and  position.  In  this  there  may  be  all  degrees, 
depending  upon  the  extent  of  the  injury,  and  the 
period  of  life  at  which  it  occurs.  In  imbecility, 
there  is  not,  as  a  rule;  any  marked  physical  or 

1  The  following  i9  Stern's  classification  of  the  stages  in  the 
development  of  language  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  forms 
and  structure  of  speech  :  (1)  the  beginning  of  the  development 
of  speech  by  means  of  articulate  sounds  (end  of  the  1st  year) ; 

(2)  2nd  year  (1st  quarter),  substantive  stage :  the  child  uses 
substantives  only  as  names  for  concrete  persons  and  things ; 

(3)  stage  of  action  :  verbs  appear  for  the  designation  of  concrete 
activit}'  in  the  present  and  in  the  immediate  future  (2nd  quarter 
of  this  year) ;  (4)  first  questioning  stage :  questions  about  the 
names  of  objects  (3rd  quarter)  ;  (5)  first  sentences  (synthetic)  : 
conjunctives ;  negative  sentences  (end  of  the  3rd  quarter  of 
year ;  (6)  relation  and  quality  stage :  adjectives  and  adverbs 
(4th  quarter  of  the  year) ;  (7)  sentences  with  an  object  (end  of 
the  4th  quarter  year) ;  (8)  use  of  numbers,  inflexions,  past  tense 
(4th  to  the  6th  quarter  year) ;  (9)  second  questioning  stage : 
questions  as  to  the  where,  how,  and  whither  (3rd  year) ;  (10)  pro- 
nouns  become  numerous  (2nd  quarter  of  3rd  year) ;  and  (11) 
questions  as  to  why  (in  the  3rd  year).  Stern  points  to  a  very 
remarkable  parallelism  between  the  stages  by  which  the  normal 
child  acquires  its  language,  and  the  stages  by  which  Helen 
Keller,  beginning  at  the  end  of  her  7th  year,  acquired  precisely 
the  same  form  of  development  through  the  finger-alphabet  which 
Miss  Sulivan  began  to  teach  her  at  that  age  (pp.  cit.  p.  34  ff.). 


692 


DEVELOPMENT  (Mental) 


even  cerebral  defect ;  on  the  contrary,  imbeciles 
are  frequently  of  great  vitality,  and  of  full  physical 
development ;  nevertheless  the  existence  of  some 
functional  defect  of  the  brain  is  proved  by  the 
peculiar  instability  of  their  mental  character, 
and,  as  a  result,  the  difficulty  which  there  is  in 
extending  their  education,  mental  and  moral,  up 
to  the  standard  of  the  time.  These  classes  may 
be  grouped  together  as  abnormal ;  their  differences 
from  their  fellows  are  so  great,  and  in  their  out- 
come unfit  them  to  so  great  an  extent  for  participa- 
tion in  social  life,  that  no  one  would  seek  to  rank 
them  with  either  normal  children  or  normal  adults. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  feeble-minded  and  the 
backward  represent  a  class  which  is,  as  it  were,  on 
the  lower  edge  of  the  normal  group ;  they  are 
simple  variations,  on  the  negative  side,  from  the 
average,  corresponding  to  the  specially  talented 
and  gifted  on  the  positive  side.  The  backward 
child  is  one  who  is  much  slower  in  development 
than  his  neighbours,  and  in  consequence  falls  below 
the  standard  of  his  years ;  at  school  he  is  placed 
along  with  children  three  or  four  years  younger 
than  himself.  The  feeble-minded,  or  simple 
defective,  again,  is  not  only  slow,  but  unable  at 
any  time,  or  under  any  conditions,  to  overtake 
the  average  child  in  education  ;  he  can,  however, 
be  taught  a  simple  trade,  and  by  special  methods 
can  be  brought  to  a  level  of  intelligence  and  of 
morality  by  which  he  is  enabled  to  take  a  place 
among  his  fellows. 

Various  suggestions  have  been  made  as  to  the 
most  prominent  symptom  by  which  the  degree  of 
defectiveness  can  be  estimated  :  ability  to  acquire 
the  power  of  speech  (Esquirol,  who  divided  idiots 
and  imbeciles  into  five  classes,  according  to  degree 
of  facility  which  they  were  able  to  acquire  in  this 
respect) ;  the  presence  or  absence  of  primary  and 
secondary  instincts  (Dubois,  etc. ).  Almost  certainly 
the  most  valuable  of  these  is  that  on  which  Sollier 
lays  chief  stress — the  power  of  attention.  The 
inability  of  the  idiot  or  imbecile  child  to  learn 
(whether  language,  industrial  work,  or  moral 
habits)  depends  primarily  on  the  two  characteristics 
of  his  attention — its  low  intensity,  or  strength, 
or  degree  of  concentration,  and  its  instability, 
or  liability  to  distraction  and  dissipation.  The 
spontaneous  attention  (still  less  the  voluntary 
attention)  of  the  idiot  cannot  be  caught,  except 
for  a  few  objects  associated  with  its  most  funda- 
mental physical  needs :  (1)  because,  owing  to  the 
disease  of  the  brain,  its  sensations  are  excessively 
blunted  or  dulled,  and  (2)  because  for  the  same 
reason  its  organs  of  movement,  on  which  the 
possibility  of  attending  depends,  are  also  imperfect 
in  the  highest  degree.  In  the  lowest  degree  of 
idiocy  there  is  no  possibility  of  attention  ;  in  the 
second  degree  (simple  idiocy),  the  attention  is  with 
difficulty  and  occasionally  held  by  a  few  objects  ; 
in  the  latter  case,  by  efforts  which  strengthen  the 
sensitiveness,  or  which  build  up  associations  be- 
tween the  few  objects  that  are  apprehended  and 
the  corresponding  actions,  some  degree  of  education 
may  be  accomplished ;  in  the  former  none  is 
possible.  On  the  other  hand,  in  the  case  of  the 
imbecile,  it  is  not  so  much  the  intensity  of  the 
attention  as  its  stability  that  is  at  fault;  it  is 
flighty,  intermittent,  unable  to  be  retained  for  any 
length  of  time  by  a  single  object ;  hence  memory 
is  weak,  impressions  do  not  remain  long  enough 
before  the  mind  to  be  retained ;  associations  are 
not  formed  between  separate  sense-qualities  or 
between  perceptions  and  actions  ;  sustained  action 
and  serial  thought  are  alike  impossible.  The 
lower  instincts,  however,  are  usually  sufficiently 
strong  to  give  the  sensations  and  perceptions  which 
appeal  to  the  imbecile  considerable  attention- 
value  ;  hence  education  is  possible  to  a  relatively 


high  degree,  through  the  direction  and  control  of 
this  attention  by  the  teacher.  Imbeciles  may 
learn  to  speak,  although  they  rarely  learn  to  write 
or  read  ;  and  the  ability  to  speak  does  not  with 
them  carry  the  power  of  concentrated  and  deliberate 
thought  or  reflexion.  On  the  moral  side,  Sollier 
divides  these  defectives  by  the  terms  extra-social, 
which  he  applies  to  the  idiots,  and  anti-social 
which  he  applies  to  the  imbeciles.  The  former,  as 
the  term  implies,  is  essentially  a  solitary,  unable 
to  come  into  relation  with,  or  to  understand  any 
of  the  purposes  of,  his  fellows  ;  he  neither  imitates 
nor  plays  with  others,  and,  'while  entirely  incapable 
of  appreciating  moral  standards,  nevertheless 
remains  for  the  most  part  passive,  inert,  and 
therefore  harmless.  The  imbecile,  on  the  other 
hand,  having  the  lower  instincts  strongly,  and  the 
higher  weakly  (or  not  at  all),  developed,  is  governed 
almost  entirely  by  selfish  motives,  without  being 
able  to  appreciate  either  the  feelings  of  others, 
their  duties,  or  their  rights ;  he  has  intelligence 
enough  to  pick  up  and  appreciate  the  evil,  but  not 
the  good,  around  him,  and  for  the  most  part  is  on 
that  account  a  constant  danger  both  to  his  fellows 
and  to  himself.  In  the  case  of  the  backward  and 
simple  or  weak-minded  child,  the  attention  is  also 
defective ;  the  reaction  time  is  slower,  the  span  or 
width  of  a  single  act  of  attention  is  narrower,  the 
stability  is  for  the  most  part  less  than  in  the 
average  child.  In  the  case  of  the  idiot,  the  de- 
fect is  primarily  due  to  an  organic  lesion  of  the 
brain,  and  in  the  imbecile  to  a  functional  defect 
(see  art.  DEGENERATION),  but  in  the  backward 
child  the  defect  may  ordinarily  be  found  in  some 
somatic  physical  weakness,  in  the  digestive  or 
other  internal  system,  by  which  the  brain  is 
relatively  poorly  nourished,  and  in  consequence 
both  functions  more  feebly  and  develops  more 
slowly  than  in  the  average  child.  The  evil  can  to 
some  extent  be  remedied  by  physical  regimen,  and 
the  great  danger  in  such  cases  is  that  of  intensify- 
ing the  disease  by  over-pressure  in  school  work. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that,  where  it  is  possible, 
such  children  ought  to  be  treated  separately  from 
others — in  separate  classes,  or  still  better  in  separate 
institutions.  Binet,  Decroly  and  Degand,  and  de 
Sanctis  have  worked  out  series  of  standard  mental 
tests  by  which  the  degree  of  defectiveness  in  a 
child  of  a  given  age  can  be  diagnosed  in  a  simple 
and  rapid,  Dut  adequate,  way.  It  is  natural  that 
some  difficulty  should  be  experienced  at  first  in 
arriving  at  such  a  series,  appealing  to  the  different 
mental  powers  in  the  order  of  their  development, 
which  shall  be  agreed  upon  by  a  sufficiently  re- 
presentative number  of  observers ;  but,  when  it  is 
successfully  accomplished,  it  will  form  a  most 
useful  basis  of  reference,  both  in  the  initial  de- 
termination of  the  grade  of  a  child  and  in 
estimating  the  degree  of  progress  which  may  be 
attained  under  any  particular  system  of  training 
and  education  (see  A.  Binet  and  T.  Simon,  Annie 
psychologique,  xi.  [1905],  xiv.  [1908],  xv.  [1909]; 
O.  Decroly  and  J.  Degand,  Arch,  de psychol.  ix. 
[1910] ;  de  Sanctis,  Annie  psychologique,  xii.  [1906]. 
These  tests  are  also  discussed  in  Meumann,  i. 
387  ff,  and  are  illustrated  in  G.  M.  Whipple, 
Manual  of  Mental  and  Physical  Tests,  1910). 

Literature. — Works  referring  to  special  parts  of  the  subject 
have  been  mentioned  in  the  text ;  among;  more  general  works 
are  the  following  :  J.  M.  Baldwin,  Mental  Development  in  the 
Child  and  the  Race"2,  N.Y.  and  Lond.  1895,  and  Social  and 
Ethical  Interpretation,  N.T.  and  Lond.  1897 ;  A.  Binet, 
Suggestibility,  Paris,  1900 ;  A.  F.  Chamberlain,  The  Child,  a 
Study  in  the  Evolution  of  ItlanV  (with  Bibliography),  London, 
1906;  E.  Claparede,  Psychol,  de  I'enfants,  Geneva,  1909  (Eng. 
tr.,  Lond.  1911);  G.  Compayre,  L'Evol.  intellect,  et  morale  de 
I'enfant,  Paris,  1893  (Eng.  tr.,  N.Y.  1890);  W.  B.  Drummond, 
The  Child,  his  JS'atitre  and  Nurture,  London,  1900,  and  Introd. 
to  Child-Study,  Lond.  1910  ;  E.  Egg-er,  Observations,  etc.,  sur 
le  dlveloppement  de  Vintell.  et  du  lang.  chez  les  en/ants,  Paris, 
1879;  M.  Guyau,  Education  and  Heredity,  Eng.  tr.,  London, 


DEVOTION  AND  DEVOTIONAL  LITERATURE 


693 


1S91 ;  Stanley  G.  Hall,  numerous  papers  in  the  Pedagogical 
Seminary,  1891ff.,  AJPs,  Child  Stud;/  Monthly  (lS96f.),  also 
Adolescence,  2  vols.,  London  and  N.Y.  1904;  Irving:  King-, 
J'sychol.  of  Child  Development,  N.Y.  1906 ;  E.  A.  Kirkpatrick, 
Fundamentals  of  Child-Stud y,  N.Y.  1903;  W.  A.  Lay,  Exper. 
Didaktik  3,  Leipzig,  1910,  also  Exper.  Pddagogik,  Leipzig,  190S  ; 
D.  R.  Major,  Firsl  Steps  in  Mental  Growth,  N.Y.  1906;  E. 
Meumann,  Einjuhr.  in  die  exper.  Pddagogik,  2  vols.,  Leipzig, 
1907 ;  B.  Perez,  La  Psychol,  de  I'enfant  (les  trois  premieres 
annies),  Paris,  1878  (61894,  Eng.  tr.,  London,  1885),  also 
L' Enfant  de  trois  d  sept  ans  3,  Paris,  1894 ;  W.  Preyer,  Die 
Seele  des  Kindes,  Leipzig,  1882(61900,  Eng.  tr.,  N.Y.  1SSS-9); 
R.  Schulze,  Aus  dcr  werkstatt  der  exper.  Psychol,  und  Pdda- 
gogik, Leipzig,  1909  ;  M.  W.  Shinn,  Notes  on  the  Development 
of  a  Child,  Berkeley,  U.S.A.  1893  ff.,  also  The  Biography  of  a 
Baby,  Boston,  U.S.A.  1900;  G.  F.  Stout,  Groundwork  of 
Psychology,  London,  1903;  J.  Sully,  Studies  of  Childhood, 
London  and  N.Y.  1896.  J.  L.  M'lNTYBE. 

DEVIL,  DEVIL-WORSHIP.— See  Demons 
and  Spirits. 

DEVIL'S  ADVOCATE.— See  Advocate. 

DEVI  PATAN  (Devi-paUana,  'city  of  the 
goddess  Devi'). — An  ancient  village  in  the  Gonda 
District  of  Oudh,  supposed  to  he  one  of  the  oldest 
seats  of  the  Saiva  cultus  in  Northern  India. 
Legend  connects  the  establishment  of  the  cult  in 
this  place  with  Karna,  the  hero  of  the  Mahabha- 
rata  epic  ;  but  it  is  more  probable  that  the  existing 
remains  belong  to  the  time  of  Chandragupta  II.,  of 
the  Imperial  Gupta  dynasty,  who  restored  the  old 
sacred  places  at  Ayodhya,  and  perhaps  did  the 
saine  service  for  the  petty  shrine  of  the  goddess  of 
the  pre- Aryan  races,  who  had  been  adopted  into 
Hinduism.  A  temple  is  said  to  have  been  erected 
in  the  beginning  of  the  15th  cent,  by  Ratannath, 
the  third  in  descent  from  the  famous  Gorakhnath, 
the  deified  saint,  whose  worship  has  spread  all  over 
the  Nepal  valley  and  many  other  parts  of  India. 
Its  importance  was  sufficient  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  the  iconoclast  Aurangzlb,  who  partially 
destroyed  it.  This  temple  seems  to  have  been 
dedicated  to  Siva,  and  when  repaired  was  con- 
verted into  the  present  building,  where  the  service 
of  the  Mother-goddess  in  the  form  of  ParvatI  or 
Durga  is  conducted.  The  religious  fair  in  con- 
nexion with  the  shrine  takes  place  early  in  the 
spring,  and  is  largely  attended  by  pilgrims  from 
the  Plains  and  the  lower  slopes  of  the  Himalaya. 
Benett,  describing  the  fair  in  1871,  writes  :  '  Some 
20  buffaloes,  250  goats,  and  250  pigs  were  sacrificed 
daily  at  the  temple.  Under  the  altar  a  large  hole 
was  dug  and  filled  with  sand,  which  was  changed 
twice  a  day,  and  the  old  sand  buried  ;  all  the  blood 
was  thus  absorbed.  There  was  no  filth  lying  about, 
and  no  stench.' 

Literature. — Fiihrer,  Monumental  Antiquities  and  Inscrip- 
tions in  the  North-Western  Provinces  and  Oudh,  Allahabad, 
1891,  p.  302  f.;  Benett,  in  Oudh  Gazetteer  (1877),  i.  367  ff. 

W.  Ceooke. 
DEVOTION  AND  DEVOTIONAL  LITER- 
ATURE.— Introductory, — In  a  general  sense,  de- 
votion has  frequently  been  regarded  as  co-extensive 
with,  or  at  least  as  erhbracing,  the  entire  field  of 
facts  relevant  to  religion.  Sometimes  the  attitude 
of  the  human  will  towards  the  Divine  (howsoever 
conceived),  which  is  a  common  feature  of  all  reli- 
gions, and  the  dominant  characteristic  in  every 
religion  of  the  spirit,  has  been  illegitimately  iso- 
lated and  its  true  function  distorted  ;  consequently 
'  devotion '  and  '  religion  '  have  often  been  used  as 
synonymous  terms.  Aquinas  writes :  '  Devotio 
nihil  aliud  esse  videtur  quam  voluntas  quaedam 
prompte  tradendi  se  ad  ea  quae  pertinent  ad  Dei 
tamulatum'  (Summa,  II.2  lxxxii.  1).  But  surely 
this  definition  is  too  wide  in  scope.  Even  where 
devotion  has  not  been  confused  with  religion,  it 
has  commonly  been  cited  as  a  synonym  for  worship 
— '  whatsoever  men  worship  for  religion's  sake ' 
(Tomson's   marg.   note  [NT,   1576]).      But,   while 


devotion  suffuses  all  genuine  religion,  and  will  find 
expression  normally  in  a  form  of  worship  directed 
towards  an  object  or  objects  conceived  as  spiritual, 
unseen,  or  Divine,  it  certainly  ought  not  to  be  de- 
fined as  '  an  object  of  religious  worship.' 

The  idea  of  devotion  is  expressed  in  a  concrete 
manner  by  the  devotee — one  set  apart  for  a  unique 
purpose,  dedicated  by  a  vow  to  the  service  of  a 
deity  ;  and  perhaps  we  may  best  define  devotion 
as  the  inner,  intimate,  essential  side  of  worship. 
It  is  the  attitude  of  the  worshipping  soul  towards 
God  ;  or,  more  widely  viewed,  the  self-dedication 
'  to  a  deity,  or  to  any  one  invested  in  thought  for 
a  time  with  some  of  the  qualities  or  claims  of  a 
deity.'  In  its  higher  reaches  it  calls  into  play  the 
entire  forces  and  resources  of  man's  personality. 

Devotion,  then,  involves  the  deliberate  move- 
ment of  the  will  towards  the  object  of  worship. 

1  Devotion  signifies  a  life  given,  or  devoted,  to  God.  He  there- 
fore is  the  devout  man  who  lives  no  longer  to  his  own  will,  or 
the  way  and  spirit  of  the  world,  but  to  the  sole  will  of  God,  who 
considers  God  in  everything,  who  serves  God  in  everything,  who 
makes  all  the  parts  of  his  common  life  parts  of  piety,  by  doing 
everything  in  the  name  of  God,  and  under  such  rules  as  are 
conformable  to  His  glory '  (Law,  Serious  Call,  Lond.  1S98,  ch.  i.). 

In  the  theistic  religions,  especially  in  Chris- 
tianity, where  the  bloom  and  fragrance  of  devotion 
are  incomparably  rich,  the  definite  and  full  deter- 
mination of  the  will  towards  Deity  is  the  first  step 
in  the  direction  of  a  devout  life.  The  higher  ex- 
periences of  the  consecrated  life  are  unattainable 
apart  from  the  initial  and  insistent  self-dedicatory 
act.  The  will  of  the  individual  is  wholly  deter- 
mined towards  the  being  or  beings  conceived  as 
Divine,  and,  apart  from  this  ardent  attachment, 
devotion,  strictly  speaking,  cannot  exist.  It  is 
thus  marked  off  from  religion  narrowly  defined  as 
'  a  propitiation  or  conciliation  of  powers  superior 
to  man '  (J.  G.  Frazer,  GB-,  1900,  i.  63)  by  this 
spontaneous  self-committal. 

1  True  devotion  springs  from  the  will ;  it  is  the  choice  and  the 
love  of  the  highest  good  manifested  to  the  soul,  and,  wherever 
the  will  of  man  is  found  choosing,  and  adbering  to,  the  highest 
known  ideal  of  good,  there  you  have  the  true  child  of  God ' 
(C.  Bodington,  Books  of  Devotion,  London,  1903,  ch.  ii.).  Or, 
as  Thomas  a  Kempis  expresses  it,  great  devotion  consists  '  in 
giving  up  thyself  with  all  thy  heart  to  the  Divine  Will,  not 
seeking  the  things  which  are  thine  own,  either  in  small  or  in 
great,  either  in  time  or  in  eternity'  (Imitation  of  Christ,  bk. 
iii.  ch.  xxv.). 

In  this  self-determination  of  the  soul  both  in- 
tellectual and  emotional  appetites  are  present  in 
varying  degree ;  no  movement  would  be  possible 
apart  from  desire  ;  the  intellect  by  itself,  as  Aris- 
totle pointed  out,  moves  nothing.  Some  conception 
of  the  end  of  devotion  is  necessary  before  the  heart 
and  the  affections  are  yielded  in  free  spontaneity 
to  their  Divine  objective.  Thus,  in  all  religions 
which  create  and  foster  the  devotional  spirit — 
notably  in  the  Christian  religion — the  soul  in- 
tensely, sincerely,  and  lovingly  desires,  and  moves 
in  faith,  reverence,  and  purity  of  intention  towards, 
communion  with  God.  Even  the  pagan  Mysteries 
and  the  most  ancient  sacrificial  feasts  bear  witness 
to  this  fact. 

I.  This  approach  of  the  soul  towards  the  Divine, 
with  its  definite,  conscious  experience  of  the  Divine 
presence,  is  seen  in  the  distinctive  exercises  and 
practices  of  devotion.  These  are  infinite  in  variety, 
but  primacy  must  be  given  to  prayer. 

1  Devotion,'  writes  William  Law,  '  is  neither  private  nor  pidrtic 
prayer,  but  prayers,  whether  private  or  public,  are  particular 
parts  or  instances  of  devotion '  (Serious  Call,  ch.  i.). 

Without  attempting  any  survey  of  the  various 
forms  prayer  has  assumed  in  the  history  of  reli- 
gions, we  may  mark  its  unfailing  and  universal 
characteristics  throughout  the  devotional  life  of 
the  varied  races  and  generations  of  mankind.  Re- 
membering the  true  saying  of  Kierkegaard— that 
a  heathen  who  heartily  and  ardently  prays  to  an 
idol  prays  in  reality  to  the  true  God,  but  he  who 
outwardly  and  impersonally  prays  to  the  true  God 


694 


DEVOTION  AND  DEVOTIONAL  LITERATURE 


in  reality  prays  to  an  idol — ive  see  that  the  value 
of  the  external  observance  depends  on  the  internal 
disposition  of  the  suppliant.  Prayer  must  be  pure 
and  ingenuous,  for  the  devout  life  must  be  free 
from  any  element  of  sophistication.  Where  prayer 
is  viewed  so  largely  and.  so  generally,  sometimes  so 
exclusively,  under  the  aspect  of  petition  or  request, 
it  is  obvious  that  its  possible  perils  are  very  great. 
Material  wants  and  mundane  considerations  ob- 
trude themselves,  while  the  spiritual  needs  are 
crowded  out,  forgotten,  ignored — sometimes  even 
unrecognized.  But,  though  not  without  its  dangers, 
the  act  of  asking  a  boon  of  the  Unseen,  if  it  be 
the  sincere  expression  of  the  spiritually  enlight- 
ened, is  an  act  which  not  only  describes  the  fer- 
vent longing  of  the  human  soul,  but  also  suggests 
the  intimacy  of  a  genuine  spiritual  communion.  It 
is  an  aspect  of  the  great  passion  to  establish  com- 
munication with  the  Divine  or  with  God,  which 
expresses  itself  in  an  outgoing  of  the  human  spirit 
towards  the  object  worshipped  and  adored.  As 
such,  it  is  an  infallible  mark  of  the  devout  soul 
wheresoever  placed,  in  crude  and  elementary  reli- 
gious environment  as  truly,  though  not  as  fruit- 
fully, as  in  realms  of  high  spiritual  culture  and 
attainment.  In  its  more  advanced  phases,  it  be- 
comes not  merely  a  spiritual  intercession,  but 
passes  in  a  sublime  elevation  of  soul  from  soliloquy 
to  silence,  from  spiritual  striving  to  contemplative 
calm.  The  higher  reaches  of  the  devotional  life 
are  sacred  to  the  prayer  of  '  quiet '  and  the  prayer 
of  '  union '  which  Madame  Guyon  describes  in  her 
Autobiography  (Eng.  tr.,  London,  1897)  as  'emptied 
of  all  form,  species,  and  images.' 

2.  Allied  to  and  often  commingled  with  prayer  is 
the  act  or  exercise  of  praise — the  tribute  of  homage 
which  the  human  renders  to  the  Divine.  The  rela- 
tion between  prayer  and  praise  is  so  intimate  that, 
in  experience,  it  is  found  that  instinctively  and 
imperceptibly  the  one  is  constantly  passing  over 
into  the  other.  This  is  as  notable  in  the  hymns 
of  the  Veda,  which  embody  'some  of  the  earliest 
religious  conceptions  of  the  Hindus '  (M.  Williams, 
Hinduism,  London,  1901,  ch.  ii.),  as  it  is  in  the 
Jewish  Psalms  or  in  the  spiritual  songs  of  the 
Christian  Church ;  and,  although  perhaps  these 
are  all  primarily  adapted  to  worship  in  an  insti- 
tutional ceremonial  sense,  they  yet  express  with 
true  poetical  passion  the  personal  devotional  life 
of  their  particular  age.  1  he  outward  dissimilari- 
ties are  undoubtedly  great ;  the  Vedic  hymns  were 
'  addressed  to  certain  deifications  of  the  forces  of 
Nature'  (M.  Williams,  op.  cit.  p.  23);  a  post-exilic 
theology  is  implicit  in  the  Psalter ;  but  under  all 
the  outward  forms  of  '  temple  festivities,  proces- 
sions, and  ceremonial '  there  is  present  and  discern- 
ible the  thrill  of  the  individual  soul,  as,  in  reverence 
and  thanksgiving,  homage  and  gratitude,  it  pros- 
trates itself  before  the  Divine. 

We  may  certainly  affirm  that  beneath  all  external 
expressions,  which,  of  course,  reflect  the  particular 
sentiments  (sometimes,  it  may  be  said,  immature, 
and  even  repugnant,  to  a  developed  moral  sense) 
of  a  people,  age,  or  religion,  the  elements  we  have 
noted  are  all  present  in  the  act  of  praise.  They 
differ,  it  is  true,  in  emphasis  and  in  the  degree  of 
intensity  by  which  they  are  sustained  ;  but  it  may 
be  doubted  if  any  one  of  them  is  ever  entirely 
absent.  From  the  manner  in  which  they  are  present 
and  the  mode  in  which  they  are  combined,  the 
exercise  of  praise  as  a  personal  outburst  in  East 
and  West  does  appear  ultimately  to  result  in  a 
qualitative  distinction,  i.e.  to  be  different  in  kind. 
It  may,  indeed,  be  regarded  as  an  established  fact 
that  the  place  of  praise  in  the  devotional  life  is  seen 
most  clearly  and  recorded  most  completely  in  reli- 
gions where  the  subduing  and  overwhelming  sense 
of  Divine  holiness,  love,  and  beneficent  energy  pre- 


vails, and  in  which  the  soul's  searching  sense  ot 
guilt  is  finally  submerged — not  merely  in  mercy, 
but  in  victorious  grace. 

In  illustration  of  this,  we  may  note  the  con- 
trast presented  between  the  attitude  of  the  devout 
Buddhist,  who  embalms  his  lord  Gautama  '  in  the 
richest  and  sweetest  mythology  known  to  man ' 
(A.  M.  Fairbairn,  Philos.  of  Chr.  Eel.,  London, 
1902,  p.  243  f.),  and  the  attitude  of  the  devout  Jew 
towards  God,  as  expressed  in  the  superb  and  richly 
varied  praise  of  the  Synagogue  liturgy  (cf.  T.  K. 
Cheyne,  Book  of  Psalms,  London,  1888,  p.  118). 
This  contrast  is  further  heightened  by  a  considera- 
tion of  Christian  hymnody,  in  which,  from  the 
rpa\fioi,  ufivoc,  ([idal  irvevfiaTucai  (Eph  519)  of  the  early 
Christians  to  the  sacred  lyric  or  hymn  of  the 
Church  to-day,  the  holiness  and  grace  of  God  are 
conspicuously  honoured  and  celebrated  as  much  in 
private  devotion  as  in  public  worship. 

3.  The  act  of  adoration,  the  prostration  of  the 
soul  in  profound  reverence,  utmost  affection,  high- 
est love,  is  usually  associated  with  the  outburst  of 
gratitude  or  thanksgiving  addressed  to  a  deity.  As 
one  ascends  in  the  scale  of  religions,  the  ethical 
and  spiritual  meaning  of  the  adoring  soul  becomes 
more  significant,  and  gleams  and  glows  like  sun- 
shine. vVhere  worship  was  addressed  directly  to 
elemental  forces  of  Nature  (as  in  the  hymns  of  the 
Veda),  or  where  the  objects  of  worship  were  char- 
acterized by  a  dull,  dry  formalism  (as  in  Roman 
religion  to  a  considerable  extent),  or  where  a 
'  brilliant  gaiety,'  passing  often  into  hilarity  and 
levity  (as  among  the  Greeks),  was  subtly  united 
with  sacred  offices  and  exercises  (cf.  F.  Granger, 
The  Worship  of  the  Romans,  London,  1895,  p.  271), 
it  is  clear  that  the  outward  semblance  of  adoration 
could  not  conceivably  denote  the  rich  and  profound 
spiritual  significance  which  is  so  manifest  a  content 
of  the  reverent  honour  given  by  the  devout  Christian 
to  the  sacred  and  adorable  Trinity. 

The  sentiment  of  adoration  is  seen  at  its  highest 
only  where  the  idea  of  God  is  marked  by  supreme 
moral  and  ethical  excellence.  Thus,  in  China,  even 
where  there  prevails  a  persistent  worship  of  ances- 
tors which  aims  at  the  maintenance  of  friendly 
relations  with  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  or  a  devotion 
to  Shang-ti  and  popular  divinities,  adoration  occu- 
pies no  high  place  in  the  desire  of  the  worshippers. 
In  Christianity,  on  the  other  hand,  devotion  seems 
impossible  apart  from  adoration,  and  manifests 
itself  as  markedly,  and  perhaps  more  truly,  in  the 
awe  and  austerity  of  the  Puritan  conception  of  the 
relation  of  the  soul  to  God  as  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
devotion  to  saints  and  images,  the  Eucharistic  ele- 
ments, the  Cross,  and  the  Sacred  Heart — the  latter 
cult,  indeed,  possibly  taking  its  rise  from  The  Heart 
of  Christ  in  Heaven  towards  Sinners  upon  Earth 
(1645),  a  writing  of  the  great  Puritan  theologian, 
Dr.  Thomas  Goodwin. 

4.  All  the  classics  of  devotion  announce  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  meditative  mood  as  indispensable  to 
the  devout  life.  And,  although  there  is  a  great 
gulf  between  the  Meditations  of  the  saintly  Roman 
Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius,  or  the  Indian  mystic 
for  whom  contemplation  (dhyana)  takes  the  place 
of  prayer,  and  the  devout  Christian  for  whom 
meditation  is  the  '  eye  of  the  soul '  which  enables 
him  to  see  'the  light  that  never  changes'  (Aug. 
Confess,  bk.  vii.  ch.  x. ),  in  all  alike  there  is  the  re- 
cognition that  'the  most  sublime  object  of  thought' 
demands  the  deliberate  and  definite  concentration 
of  man's  whole  soul  in  a  '  current  of  contemplative 
feeling.' 

Recollection  is  the  act  which  is  the  precursor  of 
pure  spiritual  contemplation  ;  and  this  drawing 
together  of  the  forces  of  the  inner  life,  'each  man's 
conversation  with  himself,'  to  use  the  expression 
of  Lacordaire  (Lettres  d  desjeunes  gens,  Paris,  1862, 


DEVOTION  AND  DEVOTIONAL  LITERATURE 


695 


&204  ff. ),  is  the  prelude  to  meditation  proper,  which 
uysbroeek  defines  as  '  a  concentration  of  all  the 
interior  and  exterior  forces  in  the  unity  of  the  spirit 
and  in  the  bonds  of  love'  (L'Ornement  des  noces 
spirituelles,  tr.  M.  Maeterlinck,  Brussels,  1900, 
bk.  ii.  ch.  iv.}. 

Meditation  or  active  contemplation  is  then  '  a 
long  process  of  internal  quietude,  of  abstraction 
from  sense,  and  of  absorption  in  reason,'  by  which 
the  human  soul  is  attuned  to  the  Divine  ;  and  the 
soul  exercised  thereby  has,  among  other  spiritual 
possessions,  '  the  power  of  seeing  into  eternity ' 
(Theologia  Germanica,  14th  cent.).  By  this  interior 
process  of  meditation  the  whole  personality  is 
raised  to  a  higher  level,  for  the  act  of  contempla- 
tion sounds  '  the  abysmal  deeps  of  personality,' 
and  releases  mysterious  spiritual  forces  otherwise 
hidden  and  unknown.  Of  this,  William  Law  writes 
in  '  The  Spirit  of  Prayer ' : 

*  There  is  a  root  or  depth  in  thee  from  whence  all  these  facul- 
ties come  forth  as  lines  from  a  centre,  or  as  branches  from  the 
body  of  a  tree.  This  depth  is  called  the  centre,  the  fund,  or 
bottom,  of  the  soul,  for  it  is  so  infinite  that  nothing  can  satisfy 
it  or  give  it  any  rest,  but  the  infinity  of  God  '  (The  Liberal  and 
Mystical  Writings  of  W.  Law,  ed.  W.  Scott  Palmer,  London, 
190S,  p.  14). 

Only  the  spiritually  strenuous  and  purposeful 
can  accomplish  this,  for  it  is  not  merely  '  the 
yielding  to  an  instinct,  the  indulgence  of  a  natural 
taste  for  reverie. ' 

'All  the  scattered  interests  of  the  self  have  here  to  be  col- 
lected ;  there  must  be  a  deliberate  and  unnatural  act  of  atten- 
tion, a  deliberate  expelling  of  all  discordant  images  from  the 
consciousness — a  hard  and  ungrateful  task'  (E.  Underbill, 
Mysticism,  London,  1911,  p.  374). 

Spiritual  meditation  is,  indeed,  a  difficult  thing. 
St.  Teresa,  who  finally  achieved  so  much  in  this 
respect,  confessed  that,  when  she  first  made  the 
attempt,  she  felt  the  impossibility  of  collecting 
her  thoughts  and  fixing  her  attention  ;  and  it  was 
not  until  more  than  fourteen  years  had  passed  that 
she  was  able  to  practise  meditation  without  the 
aid  of  a  book. 

Boehme,  in  his  Dialogues  on  the  Super-sensual 
Life  (ed.  Bernard  Holland,  London,  1901,  p.  56), 
describes  the  process  of  meditation  as  the  cessation 
of  individual  activity,  and  urges  the  direct  and 
steadfast  fixing  of  the  eye  upon  one  point : 

'  For  this  end,  gather  in  all  thy  thoughts,  and  by  faith  press 
into  the  Centre,  laying  hold  upon  the  Word  of  God,  which  is 
infallible,  and  which  hath  called  thee.  Be  thou  obedient  to 
this  call,  and  be  silent  before  the  Lord,  sitting  alone  with  Him 
in  thy  inmost  and  most  hidden  cell,  thy  mind  being  centrally 
united  in  itself,  and  attending  His  will  in  the  patience  of  Hope.' 

This  is  a  blessed  foretaste  of  the  supernal  satis- 
faction— of  the  vita  contemplativa. 

5.  Again,  devotion  is  expressed,  not  only  in  the 
loving  fulfilment  of  all  those  duties  commonly 
named  'religious,'  but  more  particularly  and  ap- 
propriately in  definite  spiritual  exercises.  In  that 
freat  devotional  classic,  The  Spiritual  Exercises  of 
t.  Ignatius  (Eng.  tr.,  London,  1880),  the  spiritual 
development  of  the  individual  is  shown  to  be  de- 
pendent upon  the  rigorous  training  to  which  the 
powers  of  the  mind,  heart,  and  will  are  subjected. 
After  retirement  into  solitude  and  a  season  of  quiet 
contemplation,  in  which  the  soul  listens  only  to 
the  'whispering  silence,'  the  exercised  spirit  passes 
on,  in  absorbed  intensity,  to  the  various  methods 
and  rules  by  which  the  desired  goal  is  to  be  attained. 
The  value  of  the  rules  and  exercises  lies  in  the  fact 
that,  when  followed  in  docility  and  fidelity  with 
whole-hearted  abandonment,  the  soul  is  led  to  the 
end  for  which  it  was  ordained  by  God.  They  are 
rules  which  become  '  more  and  more  authoritative 
by  constant  obedience.' 

'The  number,  length,  and  nature  of  the  exercises  are  to  be 
adapted  to  the  age,  capacity,  and  inclination  of  the  person  in 
retreat,  so  that  no  one  may  be  overburdened,  and  all  may  find 
what  is  suitable  to  their  wants '  (Bodington,  op.  cit.  130). 

All  forms  of  spiritual  exercise,  whether  such  as 
are  involved  in  the  '  ladder '  of  mystic  states  and 


perfections  of  Neo-Platonic  mysticism,  the  method 
of  Persian  Sufiism,  or  the  way  of  Christian  mysti- 
cism, are  aspects  of  self-discipline — of  the  vita  pur- 
aativa.  Self-discipline,  strenuous  and  prolonged, 
has  always  been  deemed  an  essential  factor  in 
devotion  ;  and  the  devout  of  all  ages  have  insisted 
upon  the  renunciation  of  self.  Whether  it  is  the 
Christian  mystic  who  speaks  of  self-surrender,  or 
the  Indian  mystic  who  teaches  that  the  illusion  of 
the  finite  can  be  overcome  only  by  entering  into  the 
universal  life,  or  the  Sufi  who  practises  detach- 
ment from  all  that  is  not  God  that  the  heart  may 
give  itself  for  its  only  work — meditation  upon  the 
Divine  Being — a  deliberate  self-abandonment  is 
demanded  by  each  alike,  though  the  nature  of  that 
abandonment  is  variously  interpreted  and  differ- 
ently enforced.  Perhaps  the  asceticism  of  our  Lord 
(Clem.  Alex.  Strom,  iii.  6)  supplies  us  with  the  key 
to  a  true  understanding  of  the  place  and  power 
of  self -discipline.  It  does  not  appear  that  poverty, 
as  such,  is  a  necessary  inevitable  mark  of  self- 
renunciation  (Jerome,  c.  Vigilant.  14),  though  it  is 
true  that  the  life  of  Jesus  was  lived  under  condi- 
tions of  poverty.  But  poverty  may,  in  specific 
instances,  be  the  sine  qua  non  of  a  genuine  self- 
oblation  ;  and  assuredly  almsgiving  has  very  gener- 
ally been  regarded  as  an  indispensable  exercise  of 
the  devout.  In  this  connexion  it  should  be  noted, 
however,  that  by  modern  thought  greater  possi- 
bilities of  a  positive  character,  tending  towards  an 
energetic  social  devotion,  are  being  disclosed  to  the 
devout  soul  who  sees,  with  vision  preternaturally 
sharpened,  the  passionate  and  heroic  service  of  man 
in  wider  ways  than  formerly,  as  no  mean  expression 
or  exemplification  alike  of  self-sacrifice  and  of  the 
worship  and  service  of  God. 

Supremely  essential  is  a  sincere  and  utter  de- 
tachment from  earthly  things,  apart  from  which 
there  can  be  no  true  self-abnegation,  and  no  high 
spirit  of  devotion.  This  ideal  has  perennially  cast 
its  spell  over  the  minds  of  devoted  men  ;  many  at- 
tempts have  been  made  to  realize  it,  not  the  least 
significant — despite  the  inevitable  limitations  of 
their  conception — being  that  of  the  '  Brethren  of 
the  Common  Life '  (g.v.),  under  the  inspiration  of 
Gerard  Groot  and  Florentius.  The  importance 
of  the  ideal  has  never  been  questioned  by  the 
devout.  According  to  St.  Irancis  of  Assisi, 
poverty  is 

'  a  treasure  so  high  excelling  and  so  divine  that  we  be  not 
worthy  to  lay  it  up  in  our  vile  vessels ;  since  this  is  that 
celestial  virtue  whereby  all  earthly  things  and  fleeting  are 
trodden  underfoot,  and  whereby  all  hindrances  are  lifted  from 
the  soul  so  that  freely  she  may  join  herself  to  God  Eternal 
(Fioretti,  ch.  xiii.). 

The  essence  of  self-discipline  has  been  said  to  be 
'  self-simplification ' ;  this  can  be  attained  only 
by  the  soul  viewing  with  sacred  indifference  the 
superfluous,  deceptive,  or  vain  things  of  earth. 
Thus,  it  comes  to  be  seen  that  inward  not  outward 
poverty  is  the  indispensable  thing ;  the  goal  of 
the  devout  soul  is,  like  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven, 
attainable  only  by  '  the  poor  in  spirit.'  It  is  in 
such  essential  vital  detachment,  according  to  St. 
John  of  the  Cross,  that 

'  the  spirit  finds  quiet  and  repose,  for,  coveting  nothing, 
nothing  wearies  it  by  elation  ;  and  nothing  oppresses  it  by 
dejection,  because  it  stands  in  the  centre  of  its  own  humility  : 
for,  as  soon  as  it  covets  anything,  it  is  immediately  fatigued 
thereby '  (Ascent  of  Mount  Carmel,  tr.  David  Lewis,  London, 
1906,  bk.  i.  ch.  xiii.). 

Fasting,  '  a  piece  of  devotion  whereby  the  primi- 
tive believers  effected  very  great  things '  (Anthony 
Horneck,  The  Crucified  Jesus,  London,  1685,  ch. 
iv.),  has  been  persistently  taught,  encouraged,  and 
practised  as  a  form  of  self-renunciation  and  a 
method  of  self-discipline.  Fasting  may  be  partial 
or  complete.  As  practised  among  the  Oriental 
peoples,  it  usually  took  the  form  of  total  absti- 
nence from  both  food  and  drink  ;  and,  according 


DEVOTION  AND  DEVOTIONAL  LITERATURE 


to  Robertson  Smith  (Bel.  Sem.'i,  London,  1894,  p. 
434),  it  is  almost  certain  that  such  fasting  was 
designed  especially  with  a  view  to  the  partaking 
sacramentally  of  holy  flesh.  We  may  well  believe 
this  to  be  the  fact,  inasmuch  as  the  sacrificial  rites 
of  all  nations  express  in  their  devotional  aspect 
the  surrendered  self  of  the  creature  to  the  Creator. 
It  does  not  seem  open  to  doubt  that  all  ancient 
sacrifices  were  related  to  the  basal  belief  in  the 
possibility  of  communion  with  the  Deity ;  and  the 
discipline  of  fasting  as  a  preparation  to  the  par- 
taking of  a  sacrifice  which  involved  some  kind  of 
Divine  fellowship  was  the  prescribed  method  of 
the  Oriental  peoples.  If  it  is  true,  as  has  been 
affirmed,  that  '  both  the  idea  of  sacramental  wor- 
ship and  the  forms  under  which  it  is  performed  by 
the  Christian  Church  are  the  almost  universal 
heritage  of  mankind '  (W.  R.  Inge's  Essay  in 
Contentio  Veritatis,  London,  1902,  p.  279),  it  will 
not  be  regarded  as  a  singular  thing  or  strange 
survival  that  the  concurrent  act  of  fasting  should 
appear  with  perennial  persistence.  And  further, 
if  a  vital  communion  with  the  Unseen  is  condi- 
tioned by  a  transparent  sincerity  of  will  and  in- 
tention, fasting  may  well  have  approved  itself  as  a 
sign  of,  as  well  as  a  means  towards,  such  self- 
discipline  of  the  soul.  Especially  might  this  be 
expected  in  the  Christian  Church,  where  the 
avowed  aim  of  the  faithful  is  to  be  '  one  with  the 
Lord  and  He  with  us,'  and  the  devout  person  seeks 
to  present  himself  a  reasonable,  holy,  and  living 
sacrifice  to  God  (Ro  121).  The  custom  of  fasting 
before  communion  certainly  finds  its  explanation, 
if  not  its  justification,  not  so  much  in  '  the  practice 
of  the  universal  Church '  as  in  the  acknowledged 
need  of  self-disciplinary  exercise  for  those  who 
would  worthily  and  reverently  prepare  themselves 
for  the  receiving  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 

'Let  us,'  says  Jeremy  Taylor,  'receive  the  consecrated  ele- 
ments with  all  devotion  and  humility  of  body  and  spirit ;  and 
do  this  honour  to  it,  that  it  be  the  first  food  we  eat  and  the 
first  beverage  we  drink  that  day,  unless  it  be  in  case  of  sick- 
ness or  other  great  necessity ;  and  that  your  body  and  soul 
both  be  prepared  to  its  reception  with  abstinence  from  Becular 
pleasures'  (Holy  Living,  London,  1649,  ch.  iv.  sect.  x.). 

It  is  admitted  that  such  fasting  '  is  not  a  duty 
commanded  by  God,'  but  it  is  undeniably  a  custom 
which  has  commended  itself  to  many  of  the  most 
devout.  In  the  more  general  sense,  fasting  has 
been  endured  by  the  devout  almost  universally ; 
and  by  many  saints  it  has  been  ardently  embraced 
as  a  valuable  means  towards  the  discipline  and 
conquest  of  self — urged  often  by  an  inner  neces- 
sity of  the  spirit.  It  cannot  be  denied  that,  as  a 
spiritual  exercise,  evoking,  training,  and  shaping 
the  mysterious  potentialities  of  the  soul,  fasting 
under  its  various  forms  does  effect  in  many  in- 
stances most  fruitful  spiritual  developments,  and 
justifies  itself  as  a  '  gymnastic  of  eternity.' 

6.  In  this  connexion  we  note  that  spiritual 
raptures  and  ecstatic  experiences  of  peculiar  sig- 
nificance follow,  though  not  invariably,  the  self- 
disciplinary  exercises  of  the  devout.  Catherine  of 
Siena  and  Catherine  of  Genoa  may  be  cited  as 
types  of  devout  souls  who  constantly  resorted  to 
the  discipline  of  fasting,  and  experienced  the  en- 
richment of  life  which  ecstatic  states  confer.  The 
saints,  however,  do  not  adopt  fasting  or  any  other 
spiritual  exercise  as  a  means  of  artificially  pro- 
ducing or  inducing  '  ecstasy.'  This  spiritual  state 
and  '  dazzling  obscurity,'  while  it  has  affinities 
with  the  '  ecstasy  '  of  philosophic  communion  and 
exaltation, — the  crown  of  the  mystical  teaching 
of  the  Neo-Platonists, — must  be  carefully  distin- 
guished from  all  those  extraordinary  forms  of 
ecstasy  which  at  different  periods  have  been 
sought  for  successfully  by  barbarous  orgiastic 
worship  or  by  rude  and  crude  rites  of  initiation, 
.iacob   Boebme,   describing    the    hard    battle    he 


waged  against  the  desires  that  belong  to  the  flesh 
and  blood,  and  his  attempt  to  enter  wholly  into 
the  Love  of  God,  says  : 

'Now,  while  I  was  wrestling  and  battling,  being  aided  by 
God,  a  wonderful  light  arose  within  my  soul.  It  was  a  light 
entirely  foreign  to  my  unruly  nature,  but  in  it  I  recognized  the 
true  nature  of  God  and  man,  and  the  relation  existing  between 
them,  a  thing  which  heretofore  I  had  never  understood,  and 
for  which  I  would  never  have  sought '  (F.  Hartmann,  The  Life 
and  Doctrines  of  Jacob  Boehme,  London,  1891,  p.  50). 

Here,  obviously,  the  '  ecstasy  '  was  of  an  illumina- 
tive character  ;  this  constituted  its  inner  grace 
and  spiritual  value.  But  '  ecstasy,'  according  to 
Richard  Rolle,  may  take  the  form  of  '  being 
ravished  out  of  fleshly  feeling,'  '  and  on  this 
manner  saints  sometimes  are  ravished  to  their 
profit  and  other  men's  learning  ;  as  Paul  ravished 
to  the  third  heaven  '  (The  Fire  of  Love,  ed.  Lond. 
1896,  bk.  ii.  ch.  vii.).  The  essential  mark,  however, 
of  this  spiritual  ecstasy  would  seem  to  be  a  supreme 
and  overwhelming  joy  in  the  possession  of  a  new 
knowledge  gained  not  as  the  prize  of  toiling 
thought,  but  '  in  the  upper  school  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.'  Certainly  such  'ecstasy'  is  no  more  the 
product  of  human  sagacity  than  it  is  the  fruit  of 
an  assumed  or  pretended  sanctity. 

7.  This  leads  to  a  consideration  of  the  fact  pre- 
viously stated,  that,  as  devotion  springs  primarily 
from  the  movement  of  the  individual  will  towards 
the  Divine,  such  movement  being  expressed  in 
the  various  activities  already  noted,  the  supreme 
phase  of  devotion  passes  from  the  service  of  God, 
expressed  in  manifold  ways,  into  those  solemn 
elements  of  religious  feeling  which  distinguish 
by  their  intensity  and  seriousness  communion 
with  God.  '  I  sought,'  says  Jacob  Boehme,  '  only 
for  the  heart  of  God,  therein  to  hide  myself 
('Aurora,'  Works  of  Jacob  Boehme,  Eng.  tr., 
London,  1764,  p.  237).  This  is  no  mere  '  morbid 
condition  of  mental  emotion,'  but  the  end  desired 
with  an  incorruptible  sincerity  by  all  devout  per- 
sons at  all  times.  Among  the  Greeks,  for  ex- 
ample, one  secret  of  the  attractiveness  of  the 
Eleusinian  Mysteries  lay  in  the  fact  that  the 
esoteric  symbolism  employed  therein  ministered, 
not  to  a  sickly  dreaming,  but  to  a  magnificent 
desire  for  an  intimate  spiritual  communion  with 
Deity.  Similarly  the  Christian  mystics,  in  their 
spiritual  exercises  and  disciplined  employments, 
sought,  with  all  their  fiery  strength,  the  path 
which  afforded  close,  indeed  immediate,  access  to 
God — through  Christ  to  God.  This  'subjective 
intensity'  of  the  mystic,  though  not  without  its 
dangers,  witnesses  to  the  zeal  with  which  they 
pursued  their  quest.  Thus,  if  the  communion  of 
man  with  God  is  to  be  attained,  the  devout  soul, 
whether  inside  or  outside  the  Christian  Church, 
has  always  seen  that  the  Divine  life,  potential  or 
actual,  within  him  must  be  tended  with  '  an  in- 
tense solemnity  and  energy.'  To  the  Christian, 
devotion  is  based  on  the  certainty  of  communion 
between  God  and  man  through  Christ.  It  springs 
from  a  faith  in  Christ  (or,  to  use  Luther's  word,  a 
'  right  trust')  which  involves  ultimately,  if  it  does 
not  embody  presently,  a  moral  union  with  Christ ; 
and  there  is  no  devotion  comparable  for  a  moment 
with  the  devotion  of  utter  penitential  humility 
which  is  offered  up  by  the  soul  that  has  found  the 
new  life  in  Christ  and  is  entrenched  in  that  reality 
of  regeneration  which  is  the  certainty  of  its  so 
great  salvation.  As  Christ  is  the  perfect  means 
whereby  the  soul  of  man  may  realize  itself  in  full 
and  unclouded  communion  with  its  Creator,  so 
the  practice  of  devotion  has  gathered  and  drawn 
from  the  human  life  of  the  Lord — that  consummate 
achievement  of  stainless  communion — not  only  its 
supreme  ideal  and  heroic  standard,  but  its  rarest 
and  most  precious  power.  '  Non  comprehenditur 
Deus  per  investigationem   sed   per  imitationem.' 


DEVOTION  AND  DEVOTIONAL  LITERATURE 


607 


We  must,  in  our  devotion,  as  Thomas  a  Kempis 
urges,  copy  the  life  and  conduct  of  our  Lord,  '  if  we 
wish  to  be  truly  enlightened,  and  to  be  delivered 
from  all  blindness  of  heart '  (Imitation  of  Christ, 
bk.  i.  ch.  i.).  Neither  must  the  call  to  fellowship 
with  theSaviour's  sufferings  be  evaded  ordisobeyed, 
nor  the  eyes  closed  to  the  imperative  demand  for 
'mediatorial  ministries.'  The  passivity  of  Quietism 
can  never  be  the  ideal  of  the  devotional  life. 
'  With  Him  the  corner-stone, 

The  living  stones  conjoin  ; 

Christ  and  His  Church  are  one, 

One  Body  and  one  Vine' 

(Wesley,  Hymns  on  the  Lord's  Supper,  no.  129). 
In  sacrificial  service,  not  less  than  in  sacramental 
worship,  the  devout  soul  shares  in  the  joyous 
travail  of  the  spiritual  Kingdom,  sustained  by 
the  effectual  irresistible  energies  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
of  God. 

8.  Devotional  literature  is  the  outcome,  the 
record,  or  the  expression  of  a  vital  devotion.  Devo- 
tion may  exist  and  manifest  its  presence  without 
any  attempt  to  express  itself  in  literary  form  ;  but 
every  true  book  of  devotion  involves  the  pre- 
existence  of  a  true  devotion.  Spurious  devotional 
works  and  morbid  or  maudlin  books  on  devotion, 
whether  marked  by  grandiloquent  language  or 
spiritual  insipidity,  may  generally  be  detected  by 
their  atmosphere  of  moral  enervation,  or  an  ac- 
companying suggestion  of  mental  paralysis.  The 
genuinely  devout  man  is  unconscious  of  his  devo- 
tion ;  and  all  the  great  devotional  classics,  even 
those  most  intimately  personal,  are  marked  by 
the  absence  of  anything  approaching,  in  sinister 
guise,  either  a  baleful  self-consciousness  or  the 
hesitating  sentiment  of  the  feeble  or  the  dull. 
They  are  in  the  highest  degree  self-revealing, 
often  introspective,  but  they  show  no  traces  of 
self-posturing.  The  Bible  is  undoubtedly  the 
greatest  and  most  influential  book  of  devotion  in 
the  world ;  it  not  only  bears  all  the  infallible 
marks  of  a  deep  and  developing  devotion,  but  it 
possesses,  in  a  pre-eminent  degree,  the  power  of 
awakening  and  sustaining  the  devotional  life  of 
all  who  read  and  use  it  aright.  But,  outside  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  all  the  great  spiritual  books  of 
devotion  owe  their  position  and  power  to  their 
possession  of  the  characteristic  marks  already 
mentioned.  The  incomparable  Imitatio  Chrisii, 
The  Pilgrim's  Progress,  Augustine's  Confessions, 
with  their  power  to  '  stimulate  the  heart  and  mind 
of  man  to  approach  unto  God,'  Anselm's  Medita- 
tions, Andrewes'  Private  Prayers,  breathing  indeed 
a  '  pure  and  primitive  devotion,'  Francis  de  Sales' 
Spiritual  Letters,  and  Baxter's  Saints'  Everlasting 
Best,  are  among  the  most  spiritually  moving  books 
in  the  world.  The  great  books  of  devotion  elude 
our  attempts  to  classify  them,  though  we  may 
trace  affinities  and  mark  divergencies.  They  all 
owe  their  existence  to  the  spirit  of  conspicuous 
devotion  which  marked  the  lives  of  their  authors  ; 
and,  although  respectively  they  exhibit  the  fashions 
of  a  particular  age  and  reflect  pre-eminently  the 
spiritual  needs  and  satisfactions  of  their  own 
special  time,  they  owe  their  persistent  power  to 
the  presence  in  them  of  an  unconscious  self- 
revelation  of  spiritual  insight,  and  the  faculty  of 
inducing  and  begetting  a  deeper  devotional  life  in 
those  who  wisely  read  them.  They  unlock  the 
door  to  the  rich  inheritance  of  the  saints ;  they 
unveil  inconceivable  spiritual  mysteries,  as  they 
lead  the  wondering  soul  to  the  Christ  in  whom 
are  hid  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge. 
Where  may  the  growth,  development,  and  per- 
fection of  the  life  that  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God 
be  found  more  surely  or  sweetly  expounded  than 
in  Jeremy  Taylor's  Golden  Grove,  his  Holy  Living 
and  Holy  Dying ;  Law's  Serious  Call,  Spirit  of 
Prayer,  and  Christian  Perfection  :  Samuel  Ruther- 


ford's Letters;  The  Spiritual  Gziide  of  Miguel  de 
Molinos  ;  or  Walter  Marshall's  Gospel  Mystery  of 
Sanctifcation — a  book  too  little  known  and  read  ? 
The  devotional  life  of  thousands  has  been  estab- 
lished and  enriched  by  books  so  widely  divergent 
in  many  respects  as  the  Sermons  of  Bernard  of 
Clairvaux,  where  the  '  illuminative  way '  is  de- 
scribed with  searching  insight  as  the  rising  to  the 
love  of  God  with  heart,  mind,  and  soul ;  Tauler's 
Sermons  ;  the  Theologia  Germanica ;  A.  Baker's 
Holy  Wisdom  ;  Louis  of  Granada's  Sinners'  Guide  ; 
Scupoli's  Spiritual  Combat,  in  which,  despite  ob- 
scurities and  perversities,  there  burns  steadily 
'  the  lamp  of  fire  within  the  earthen  pitcher ' ; 
Pascal's  Thoughts  ;  the  Journal  of  George  Fox ; 
and  the  mystical  Devotional  Works  of  John 
Norris.  Perreyve's  Journie  du  malade,  Gratry's 
Meditations,  with  their  striking  and  suggestive 
sincerities  of  thought,  Scougal's  Life  of  God  in 
the  Soul  of  Man,  and  Milman's  Love  of  the  Atone- 
ment all  unite  to  disclose  to  the  expectant  soul 
some  of  the  august  possibilities  of  faith,  prayer, 
and  sacrifice.  The  work  of  Alphonsus  Rodriguez, 
On  Spii-itual  and  Religious  Perfection,  in  which 
'  our  greatest,  or  rather,  our  only  business,'  the 
union  of  our  souls  with  God  by  love,  is  set  forth 
with  arresting  ardour  and  spiritual  knowledge ; 
the  Poems  of  George  Herbert  and  his  Priest  to  the 
Temple,  burning  with  the  sacred  passion  for  holi- 
ness ;  Hymns  on  the  Lord's  Supper  by  John  and 
Charles  Wesley,  in  which,  assuming  discretion 
and  discrimination  on  the  part  of  the  reader,  the 
fervour  of  an  intense  rapture  fills  the  soul  with 
unalloyed  joy ;  and  the  Christian  Year  of  John 
Keble — must  be  named  as  occupying  distinct  and 
honoured  places  in  the  impressive  library  of  de- 
votional literature,  although,  of  course,  they  do 
not  '  unite  all  great  attributes  in  an  equal  degree.' 
In  the  realm  of  devotion,  doubtless,  new  heights 
wait  to  be  scaled,  untrodden  territories  allure  the 
intrepid  spiritual  explorer,  and  vast  spiritual  tracts 
are  yet  to  be  surveyed  ;  thus,  while  we  hold  stead- 
fastly to  the  precious  devotional  gains  of  the  past, 
we  believe  that  greater  works  than  these  may 
be  achieved  by  the  soul  following  the  Supreme 
Spiritual  Director  who  guides  into  all  truth. 

Litkrature. — In  addition  to  the  authors  and  works  referred 
to,  the  various  writings  of  the  great  mystics — especially  their 
supreme  spiritual  classics — should  be  consulted.  Also  the  fol- 
lowing :  J.  Adam,  The  Religious  Teachers  of  Greece,  Edin. 
1908,  p.  92 ;  J.  P.  Arthur,  The  Founders  of  the  New  Devotion 
Eng.  tr.,  London,  1905  ;  F.  Atterbury,  Sermons^,  London, 
1766,  iv.  213;  T.  K.  Cheyne,  Aids  to  the  Devout  Study  of 
Criticism,  London,  1S92,  pt.  ii.;  R.  W.  Dale,  Fellowship  with 
Christ,  London,  1896,  ch.  i.;  C.  A.  F.  Rhys  Davids,  Psalms  of 
the  Early  Buddhists,  i.  (PTS),  1909  :  E.  von  Dobschutz,  Chris- 
tian Life  in  the  Prim.  Church,  Eng.  tr.  1904  ;  L.  Duchesne, 
Christian  Worship,  Eng.  tr.,  London,  1903-4,  ch.  xii.;  J.  O. 
Dykes,  Manifesto  of  the  King,  London,  1887,  pp.  127-144  ;  Dora 
Greenwell,  Essays,  London,  1875,  and  Poems,  London,  1848  ; 
W.  Hermann,  Communion  with  God,  Eng.  tr.  1895,  pp.  49-133  ; 
E.  E.  Holmes,  Prayer  and  Action,  London,  1911 ;  R.  F. 
Horton,  The  Open  Secret,  London,  1904  ;  F.  von  Hiigel,  The 
Mystical  Element  of  Religion,  2  vols.,  London,  1908  ;  J.  R. 
Illingworth,  Christian  Character,  London,  1904  ;  W.  R.  Inge, 
Christian  Mysticism,  London,  1809 ;  W.  James,  Varieties  of 
Religious  Experience,  London,  1902 ;  F.  B.  Jevons,  Introd. 
Hist.  Rel.,  London,  1896,  pp.  54, 106  ;  Rufus  M.  Jones,  Studies 
in  Mystical  Religion,  London,  1909  ;  J.  Julian,  Diet,  of  Hymn- 
ology,  London,  1892;  A.  Lang,  Magic  and  Religion,  London, 
1901  ;  J.  Legge,  Chinese  Classics,  Hongkong,  1S61-72,  vol.  iii.; 

E.  Lehmann,  Mysticism  in  Heathendom  and  Christendom, 
Eng.  tr.,  London,  1910 ;  H.  S.  Lunn,  The  Love  of  Jesus, 
London,  1911 ;  K.  Marti,  Rel.  of  the  OT,  Eng.  tr.,  London, 
1907 ;  W.   R.   Nicoll,   The  Garden  of  Huts,   London,   1905  ; 

F.  Paget,  Spirit  of  Discipline^,  London,  1S94,  and  Studies  in 
the  Christian  Character4,  London,  1902 ;  E.  H.  Palmer, 
Oriental  Mysticism,  Cambridge,  1867;  E.  H.  Parker,  China 
and  Religion,  London,  1905 ;  W.  M.  F.  Petrie,  Personal  Rel. 
in  Egypt  before  Christianity,  London,  1909,  p.  102 ;  S.  F. 
Poulain,  Grdces  d'oraison,  Paris,  1906;  W.  Major  Scott, 
Aspects  of  Christian  Mysticism,  London,  1907 ;  J.  Smetham, 
Letters,  London,  1892;  J.  Stalker,  Imago  Christie,  London, 
1890,  pp.  127-144  ;  A.  E.  Waite,  Azoth)  or  the  Star  in  tht 
East,  London,  1893 ;  C.  Weizsacker,  The  Apostolic  Age,  Eng. 
tr.,  London.  1894-95.    See  also  artt.  B:iAKTi-aiARQA  and  SUFlIS&l. 

W.  Major  Scott. 


698 


DEW 


DEW. — The  cooling  of  the  ground  causes,  dur- 
ing clear  nights,  a  deposit  of  some  of  the  atmo- 
spheric moisture  held  in  suspension  during  the  day. 
It  was  not  till  1814  that  the  main  facts  of  the 
process  of  the  formation  of  dew  were  established. 
Mention  of  Wells'  famous  theory  —  a  perfect 
example  of  the  inductive  method — is  in  point,  since 
primitive  speculation  upon  the  origin  of  dew  has 
joined  with  observation  of  its  value  to  plant-life 
in  attaching  to  it  various  ideas  of  spiritual  mystery 
and  various  uses  in  ritual. 

In  the  OT  the  origin  of  dew  is  one  of  the 
mysteries  of  creation ; *  the  deposition  of  dew  is 
gentle,  sudden,  and  invisible ; 2  its  evaporation  in 
the  sun  is  a  metaphor  for  speedy  departure  or 
disappearance.3  Early  observation,  of  course, 
distinguished  dew  from  rain,  but  noted  their  con- 
nexion.4 Both  drop  from  the  clouds  '  by  the 
knowledge '  of  Jahweh.5  The  closer  connexion  of 
dew  with  mist  and  fog  naturally  involved  some 
confusion  in  both  language  and  observation.  This 
is  of  some  importance  in  the  Biblical  and  post- 
Biblical  literatures. 

*  The  spirit  of  ithe  dew  has  its  dwelling  at  the  ends  of  the 
heaven  and  is  connected  with  the  chambers  of  the  rain,  and  its 
course  is  in  winter  and  summer ;  and  its  clouds  and  the  clouds 
of  the  mist  are  connected,  and  the  one  passes  over  into  the 
other.'6 

The  old  Jewish  literature  is  enthusiastic  on  the 
subject  of  dew.  It  is  a  constant  symbol  for  in- 
vigoration  and  vivification,  fertility,  blessing, 
prosperity,  richness,  and  resurrection.'  Jahweh 
promises  that  He  will  be  '  as  the  dew  unto  Israel.' 8 
The  youthful  warriors  of  the  royal  Messiah  are 
compared,  for  numbers  and  freshness,  and  perhaps 
brilliance  (see  also  below),  to  the  dewdrops  from 
1  the  womb  of  the  morning.' 9  The  simile  was  bor- 
rowed by  Milton  (Par.  Lost,  v.  746  f . )  for  his  descrip- 
tion of  the  angelic  hosts.  The  withholding  of  dew 
is  a  dire  calamity,  and  one  of  the  most  terrible  of 
curses.10  We  have  here,  in  fact,  the  best  illustra- 
tion extant  in  folklore  or  literature  of  the  pastoral 
and  agricultural  importance  of  the  dew-fall.  That 
importance  is  greatest  in  Eastern  countries  which 
have  no  irrigation  to  supplement  an  insufficient 
water-supply,  and  where  every  drop  of  moisture 
counts.  But  in  Palestine  the  genuine  dew  of 
springy  and  winter  is  of  far  less  importance  than 
the  night-mist  of  summer.  This  is  not  dew,  but 
moisture  condensed  in  the  air  before  it  reaches  the 
ground.  It  is  brought  from  the  sea  by  the  west 
winds,  and  for  abundance  and  consistency  may  be 
compared  to  a  Scotch  mist.  Cheyne,  following 
Neil,11  who  analyzed  the  phenomenon,  is  of  opinion 
that  the  tal  ('  sprinkled  moisture  '  of  the  OT  ;  EV 
'  dew ')  signifies  in  the  majority  of  cases  not  dew 
proper,  but  this  characteristic  night-mist.12  Such 
mists  from  the  sea  have  an  extraordinary  influence 
on  vegetation,13  more  in  accordance  with  the  OT 
descriptions  than  that  of  dew.14  But  the  same  term 
is  employed,  and  the  two  phenomena  were  hardly 
differentiated. 

From  the  two  facts  that  it  is  ground-moisture, 
and  that  it  bears  upon  life  and  growth,  early 
thought  developed  various  ideas.  In  connexion 
with  the  belief  that  growth  in  plants  is  dependent 
on  the  influence  of  the  moon,  Frazer  notes  that, 
since  dew  falls  most  thickly  on  cloudless  nights, 

I  Job  3828.  a  2  S  1712,  Dt  322.  8  Hos  64  133. 
4  Mic  6'.                       6  Pr  320. 

6  Enoch  (ed.  Charles,  Oxf.  1893)  6020. 

'  Dt  322,  ia  184,  p8  U08,  Dt  S3",  Gn  2728,  Ps  1333,  Is  2619. 

8  Hos  14".  9  Ps  1103.  10  2  S  121,  i  K  171,  Hag  110. 

II  Palestine  Explored,  pp.  129-151.     12  EBi,  s.v.  '  Dew." 

13  Of.  the  Spoo-os  novria  of  Greece  (SptSo-os  = '  shower '  as  well  as 
'dew').  For  Syrian  countries,  see  E.  W.  Lane,  Arabic  Lexicon, 
s.v.  '$alla';  Qur'dn,  ii.  267.  J.  G.  Frazer  (Totemism  and 
Exogamy,  1910,  i.  168  f .)  describes  their  importance  for  the  coast 
lands  of  Australia. 

14  *  The  drops  of  dew,'  Job  3828 ;  the  saturation  of  Gideon's 
fleece,  Jg  637f-  ;  the  traveller's  head  soaked  with  '  dew,'  Oa  52  ; 
■  showers  on  the  grass,'  Mic  67. 


the  inference  that  such  deposit  in  particular  and 
all  moisture  in  general  were  caused  by  the  moon 
was  a  clear  result  of  primitive  observation. 
Alcman  says  that  Dew  is  a  daughter  of  Zeus  and 
the  Moon.  Greek  and  Latin  folklore  regarded  the 
moon  as  the  great  source  of  moisture,  and  the  sun 
as  the  great  source  of  heat. 

'  As  the  humid  power  of  the  moon  was  assumed  to  be  greatei 
when  the  planet  was  waxing  than  when  it  was  waning,  they 
thought  that  timber  cut  during  the  increase  of  the  luminary 
would  be  saturated  with  moisture,  whereas  timber  cut  in  the 
wane  would  be  comparatively  dry.  Hence  we  are  told  that  in 
antiquity  carpenters  would  reject  timber  felled  when  the  moon 
was  growing  or  full,  because  they  believed  that  such  timber 
teemed  with  sap  ;  and  in  the  Vosges  at  the  present  day  people 
allege  that  wood  cut  at  the  new  moon  does  not  dry.  In  the 
Hebrides,  peasants  give  the  same  reason  for  cutting  their  peats 
when  the  moon  is  on  the  wane ;  "  for  they  observe  that  if  they 
are  cut  in  the  increase,  they  continue  still  moist  and  never  burn 
clear,  nor  are  they  without  smoke,  but  the  contrary  is  daily 
observed  of  peats  cut  in  the  decrease." '  i 

It  is  possible  that  the  fact  of  plants  growing 
more  during  the  night  than  during  the  day  was 
known  at  an  early  date.  The  contrast  between 
the  light  of  the  moon  and  the  torrid  force  of  the 
sun  is  obvious.  Plutarch  observes  that 
'  the  moon,  with  her  humid  and  generative  light,  is  favourable 
to  the  propagation  of  animals  and  the  growth  of  plants  ;  while 
the  sun,  with  his  fierce  fire,  scorches  and  burns  up  all  growing 
things. ' 2 

Equally  natural  is  the  inference  that  things 
grow  with  the  waxing,  and  decrease  with  the 
waning,  of  the  moon.  The  deposition  of  dew  on 
plants  corroborates  such  observations,  and  intro- 
duces another  line  of  thought.  The  connexion  of 
moisture  with  life  and  growth  is  most  strikingly 
proved  by  vegetable  phenomena.  Hydrostatic 
turgor  is  the  essential  condition  of  growth.  Pliny's 
remark  shows  the  extension  of  the  principle  to 
animal  processes : 

'  Even  the  blood  of  men  grows  and  diminishes  with  the  light 
of  the  moon.'3 

Thus,  primitive  philosophy  views  the  moon 

'  as  the  great  cause  of  vegetable  growth,  first,  because  the  planet 
seems  itself  to  grow,  and  second,  because  it  is  supposed  to  be 
the  source  of  dew  and  moisture.'4 

A  contributory  inference  is  the  connexion  of  the 
changes  of  the  moon  with  the  monthly  periodicity 
of  women.6  The  Ahts  and  Greenlanders,  like  the 
majority  of  primitive  peoples,  regard  the  moon  as 
male.  The  latter  people  believe  that  the  moon  is 
able  to  impregnate  women.  Girls  are  afraid  to 
look  long  at  it ;  no  woman  will  sleep  on  her  back, 
without  first  spitting  on  her  fingers  and  rubbing 
the  spittle  on  her  stomach.6 

The  symbolism  of  the  last-cited  practice  may 
be  compared  with  several  scattered  facts.  The 
cosmology  of  the  Hindus,  in.  its  theory  of  the 
marriage  of  heaven  and  earth,  employed  the  very 
obvious  symbolism  of  rain  as  the  impregnating 
fluid  ;  and  the  soul,  as  the  male  and  life-giving 
principle,  purusa,  descends  in  the  form  of  rain 
and  re-issues  from  men  as  the  germ.7  This  notion 
of  the  philosophers  of  the  Upanisads  is  but  a 
crystallization  of  the  general  connexion  of  moisture 
with  life.8  Such  ideas  are  in  flux,  and  constantly 
passing  into  each  other  ;  but  a  tendency  is  clearly 
observable  to  regard  dew  as  a  sort  of  heavenly 
seed,  fertilizing  earth  and  its  products,  and  stimu- 
lating growth. 

The  union  of  sky  and  earth,  which  results  in  the 
propagation  of  plant-life,  is  a  world-wide  theory ; 
and  sympathetic  ritual  is  extensively  employed  to 

1  Frazer,  &B2,  igoo,  ii.  158  f.,  who  quotes  Plut  Qu.  conv.  iii. 
10.  3 ;  Macrob.  Saturn,  vii.  16 ;  Roscher,  Ueber  Selene  u. 
Verwandtes,  1890,  p.  49  ff. ;  Pliny,  BX  ii.  223,  xx.  1;  Aristotle, 
Probl.  xxiv.  14  ;  Sauve,  Folklore  des  Hautes  Vosges,  18S9,  p.  5 ; 
Martin,  in  Pinkerton,  Voyages  and  Travels,  1808-14,  xvi.  630. 

2  de  Is.  et  Osir.  41.  3  HN  ii.  221.  4  GBH  ii  169. 
»  Crawley,  Mystic  Rose,  1902,  p.  197. 

6  G.  M.  Sproat,  Scenes  and  Studies  of  Savage  Life,  1888,  p. 
206;  H.  Egede,  Descrip.  of  Greenland^,  181S,  p.  209. 

7  Max  Miiller,  Psychological  Religion,  1893,  p.  154. 

8  Crawley,  Idea  of  the  Soul,  1909,  pp.  223,  229. 


DEW 


699 


ensure  and  expedite  it.  It  is,  however,  probable 
that  some  of  the  agricultural  customs  included  in 
the  general  practice  Dy  which  individuals  or  couples 
'  roll '  over  the  fields '  are  not  survivals  of  a  ritual 
of  sympathetic  intercourse,  but  simply  express  the 
intention  of  rubbing  the  fertilizing  dew  into  the 
ground.  In  Russia,  for  instance,  the  spiritual 
person  of  the  priest  is  rolled  over  the  sprouting 
crop.2  In  Holland  there  is  still  practised  a  custom 
of  '  fertilizing '  the  crops  by  actual  sexual  inter- 
course. It  takes  place  at  Whitsuntide  and  is 
significantly  called  dauwtroppen,  '  dew-treading.  's 
Here  there  is  perhaps  a  combination,  natural 
enough,  of  the  two  methods.  Rolling  in  the  dew 
may  be  practised  for  various  reasons. 

In  Spain  the  custom  still  exists  among  country 
folk  of  roDing  naked  in  the  dew  of  the  meadows 
on  Midsummer  Day.  It  is  regarded  as  being 
preventive  of  skin-diseases.  The  same  custom, 
with  the  same  reason,  is  found  in  Normandy, 
Perigord,  and  the  Abruzzo.4  The  vivifying  power 
of  a  liquid  generated  under  conditions  of  mystery 
is  a  sufficient  reason  for  its  use  in  medicinal  and 
other  magic.  Attached  to  this  use  is  a  natural 
ascription  of  purifying  power.  It  is  worth  noting 
that  a  good  deal  of  the  dew  referred  to  in  folklore 
and  by  poets  is  not  dew,  but  water  evaporated 
from  leaves,  and  that  this  water  is  peculiarly  pure. 
The  people  of  Java  are  fond  of  washing  the  hair  in 
dew  to  prevent  greyness.8  The  custom  of  washing 
the  face  with  dew  on  May  morning  for  the  promot- 
ing of  beauty  is  still  common  in  Europe.  In  Nias, 
dew  is  employed  medicinally,  especially  by  the 
'priests.'  A  'spiritual'  power  is  ascribed  to  it.6 
In  the  Moluccas,  various  medicines  are  prescribed 
to  be  taken  not  in  water  but  in  dew.7  Among  the 
Thompson  Indians,  part  of  the  course  of  training 
undergone  by  boys  at  puberty,  by  way  of  acquiring 
a  guardian  spirit,  is  rolling  naked  in  the  dew,  or 
washing  the  body  with  branches  covered  with 
dew.8 

Kruijt  is  of  opinion  that  in  East  Indian  belief  dew  is  regarded 
as  the  sweat  of  the  earth,  and  that  its  magical  powers  may  be 
thus  explained.  Certainly  the  Poso  word  for  'dew*  also  con- 
notes '  sweat' ;  but  the  general  considerations  referred  to  above 
and  the  special  connexion  of  impregnatory  power  are  more 
probable  reasons,  though  sweat  in  folk-belief  and  custom 
possesses  magical  properties  of  invigoration. 

In  connexion  with  vegetation,  the  idea  of  dew  is 
crossed  with  ideas  of  magical  bloom,  and  even  of 
magical  food,  no  less  than  of  seed.  The  very 
ethereal  quality  of  the  liquid  state  of  dew  seems 
to  invite  such  focusing  of  analogies.  Thus,  in  the 
old  English  custom  of  gathering  '  May,'  the  blossom 
of  the  hawthorn,  and  the  dew  from  the  grass,  and 
bringing  them  home  with  music,9  the  dew  may  be 
regarded  as  the  spiritual  analogue  of  the  blossom. 
In  the  German  May  Day  processions  of  the  peasant 
youth,  the  dew  is  swept  off  the  grass  with  a  '  May- 
bush.'  10  The  miraculous  bloom  or  seed  of  the  fern 
which  appears  on  Midsummer  Eve,  according  to 
European  folklore,  is  liable,  when  being  gathered, 
to  vanish  'like  dew  on  sand'  or  mist  in  the  air.11 
This  is  not  a  merely  descriptive,  but  an  effective, 
analogy. 

1  G£2  ii.  208  f . 

»  W.  Mannhardt,  ilythol.  Forschungen,  1884,  p.  341. 

8  Van  Hoevell,  in  Internat.  Archiv  /.  Ethnographie,  viii. 
(1896)  134. 

4  GB2  iii.  297,  quoting  O.  Acevado  (letter  in  Le  Temps,  Sept. 
1898)  and  Lecoaur  (Esquisses  du  bocage  normand,  1883-87, 
ii.  8)  ;  de  Nore  (Ohesnel  de  la  Oharbouclais),  Coutumes,  etc.,  des 
provinces  de  France,  1846,  p.  150  ;  Finamore,  Credenze,  usi  e 
costumi  dbruzzesi,  1890,  p.  157. 

5  A.  C.  Kruijt,  Ret  Animisme  in  den  Indischen  Archipel, 
1906,  p.  47. 

6  Kruijt,  loc.  cit.  7  Jb. 

8  J.  Teit,  '  The  Thompson  Indians  of  British  Columbia,'  in 
Amer.  Mils,  of  Nat.  Hist.,  1900,  p.  317. 

9  Dyer,  British  Popular  Customs,  1876,  p.  257. 

10  Qjfl  j.  217,  quoting  Kuhn  and  Schwartz,  Norddeutsche  Sagen, 
1848. 
u/ft.  iii.  341  fl. 


The  dew,  in  other  words,  is  the  concrete  con- 
comitant of  the  spiritual  substance.  It  may  be 
conjectured  that  the  miraculous  power,  conferred 
by  fern-seed,  of  discovering  hidden  treasure  is 
derived  from  the  jewel-like  scintillations  of  dew- 
drops. 

A  good  illustration  of  such  homologies  between 
the  concrete  and  the  spiritual  is  to  be  seen  in 
the  OT  account  of  manna  and  its  deposition. 
Like  fern-seed,  it  came  with  mystery,  and,  like; 
fern-seed,  it  was  to  be  gathered  according  to  rule. 
Its  invariable  antecedent  was  the  dew,  and,  in  the 
same  way  as  it  apparently  crystallized  out  of  the 
dew  in  the  wilderness,  so  we  may  imagine  the  idea 
and  the  story  of  it  to  have  crystallized  out  of  the 
fluid  notions  concerning  dew. 

'At  even,'  says  Jahweh,  'ye  shall  eat  flesh,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing ye  shall  be  filled  with  bread.  .  .  .  And  it  came  to  pass  at 
even,  that  the  quails  came  up,  and  covered  the  camp  :  and  in 
the  morning  the  dew  lay  round  about  the  camp.  And  when  the 
dew  that  lay  was  gone  up,  behold,  upon  the  face  of  the  wilder- 
ness there  lay  a  small  round  thing,  as  small  as  the  hoar  frost  on 
the  ground.  And  when  the  children  of  Israel  saw  it,  they  said 
one  to  another,  It  is  manna  (What  is  this  ?) :  for  they  wist  not 
what  it  was.'1  When  the  sun  waxed  hot,  it  melted.  It  was 
'  like  coriander  seed,  white,'  -  or  the  colour  of  bdellium.s  The 
connexion  with  dew  is  more  precisely  noted  in  the  second 
account :  '  And  when  the  dew  fell  upon  the  camp  in  the  night, 
the  manna  fell  upon  it.' 4  After  eating  the  corn  of  the  promised 
land,  the  Israelites  found  that  the  manna  automatically  ceased.6 
It  was  ' the  corn  of  heaven ' ;  ' angels'  food '  (R V  'the  bread  of 
the  mighty '),  and  from  heaven  it  was  '  rained  down.'  6  A3  was 
the  case  with  the  quails,  and  the  water,  and  with  the  preserva- 
tion of  clothes,  manna  was  a  magical  detail  of  a  magically  sup- 
ported existence  in  the  wilderness.  The  writer  of  Deuteronomy 
actually  rationalizes  it  into  moral  instruction — '  manna,  which 
thou  knewest  not,  neither  did  thy  fathers  know  ;  that  he  might 
make  thee  know  that  man  doth  not  live  by  bread  only,  but  by 
every  thing  that  proceedeth  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  Lord  doth 
man  live.'?  Significantly  enough,  the  people  found  it  unsatisfy- 
ing, and  they  murmured  :  '  We  remember  the  fish,  which  we  did 
eat  in  Egypt  for  nought ;  the  cucumbers,  and  the  melons,  and 
the  leeks,  and  the  onions,  and  the  garlick  :  but  now  our  Boul  is 
dried  away  ;  there  is  nothing  at  all :  we  have  nought  save  this 
manna  to  look  to ' ;  '  there  is  no  bread,  and  there  is  no  water  ; 
and  our  soul  loatheth  this  light  bread.' 8 

The  whole  account,  with  its  significant  analogies, 
is  important  as  illustrating  the  psychological  pro- 
cess by  which  a  concrete  idea  may  take  shape  from 
visual  perception  aided  by  imagination.  Fern- 
seed,  which  sparkles  like  fire,  and  vanishes  like 
dew,  is,  we  suggest,  an  imaginative  product  of 
dew,  as  elusive  as  its  source  ;  manna,  we  suggest 
also,  is  equally  an  imaginative  product  of  dew, 
developed  along  another  line — that  of  the  ideas  of 
food  stimulated  by  starvation.  Coming  after  or 
upon  the  dew,  an  ethereal  light  food  from  heaven, 
the  food  of  angels,  easily  passing  into  intellectual 
pabulum,  it  is  as  elusive  as  dew  in  its  behaviour 
and  as  unsatisfying  in  its  results.  But  it  supports 
life  miraculously  for  those  who  are  in  a  state  of 
supernaturalism.  Most  certainly  it  is  erroneous 
to  base  the  story  of  manna  upon  such  actual 
phenomena  as  the  secretions  of  the  Tamarix 
mannifera  or  other  plants.9  The  comparison  with 
coriander  seed  amounts  merely  to  its  standing  for 
the  essence  of  bread.10 

These  ideas  may  be  more  closely  illustrated. 
The  people  of  Hairnahera  hold  that  dew  is  the 
food  of  spirits.11  In  Minahassa  it  is  said  that  the 
first  man  fed  on  dew.12  Further,  an  essentially 
spiritual  connexion  is  claimed  for  dew.  The  people 
last  cited  believe  that  the  final  end  of  the  soul  of 
man  is  to  be  merged  in  dew.  The  Balinese  hold 
that  the  soul  returns  to  earth,  after  being  dissi- 
pated into  the  air  by  the  cremation  of  the  body, 
in  the  form  of  dew."  The  Toradja  belief  is  that 
the  soul  dies  eight  or  nine  deaths  before  it  finally 
changes  into  water  and  disappears  in  mist.14    The 

1  Ex  le1"".  2  Ex  1631.  a  Nu  11'. 

4  Nu  11».  6  Jos  512.  «  PS  1&~&. 

7  Dt  88.  «Nu  116. 6  21». 

9  Crawley,  Idea  of  the  Soul,  228  f. 

10  Wilkinson,  Anc.  Egyptians,  1878,  i.  177. 

11  Kruijt,  op.  cit.  47.         12  lb.  U  76.  47. 
« lb.  163. 


700 


DEW 


following  beliefs  are  particularly  significant.  The 
Sea  Dayaks  report  that  souls  die  seven  times  after 
the  death  of  the  body. 

'  After  having  become  degenerated  by  these  successive 
dyings,  they  become  practically  annihilated  by  absorption 
into  air  and  fog,  or  by  a  final  dissolution  into  various  jungle 
plants  not  recognized  by  any  name.'  l 

The  Olo-Ngadju  and  other  peoples  of  the  East 
Indian  Islands  speak  of  the  souls  of  the  dead  as 
passing  into  plants.  The  Mualang  Dayaks  say 
that  the  soul  after  a  time  dies,  and  then  descends 
upon  the  rice  in  the  form  of  dew.  The  more  souls 
there  are  to  descend  upon  it,  the  richer  is  the  rice- 
harvest.2  In  reference  to  manna,  it  may  be  noted 
that  the  East  Indians  believe  that,  if  the  soul  of 
the  rice  be  absent,  the  grain  has  no  nutritive  pro- 
perty ;  a  man  may  eat  it  but  will  never  be  satis- 
fied.3 The  soul  of  the  Lushai  turns  into  water, 
and  evaporates  as  dew.  If  dew  falls  on  a  man,  his 
child  will  be  a  re-incarnation  of  the  dead.4 

Here  the  ideas  of  moisture  in  relation  to  life, 
and  of  unindividualized  haze  or  mist,  out  of  which 
individual  forms  are  precipitated,  meet  again  in 
dew.  Thus,  while  the  Hill  Toradjas  believe  the 
soul  to  pass  into  a  cloud,  the  Samoans  believe  it 
to  be  '  the  daughter '  of  '  vapour  of  the  land ' 
which  forms  clouds ;  and  the  Tracey  Islanders 
say  that  the  first  man  was  created  out  of  vapour.5 
Thus  the  descent  of  the  soul  to  earth  and  its 
ascent,  after  the  death  of  the  body,  to  heaven  have 
been,  in  the  evolution  of  religious  thought,  not 
only  compared  to,  but  identified  with,  the  rise  and 
fall  of  the  dew.  The  identification  has  served  the 
complex  purpose  of  explaining  the  process  of  dew- 
formation  and  that  of  the  nutritive  physiology  of 
plants,  and  incidentally  the  origin  and  end  of  the 
soul  of  man.  The  Gorontalese  of  Celebes  apply  an 
instructive  analogy  to  the  relations  of  the  four 
souls  of  man.  The  greatest  of  these  resides  in  the 
brain,  and  is  '  like  the  sea.'  Part  of  it  is  separated 
in  the  form  of  moisture  and  produces  dew.  The 
ascending  dew  is  rahmani  ;  this  is  the  second  soul, 
njawa  rahmani,  residing  above  the  heart.  The 
dew  which  ascends  to  the  sky  is  rohani,  the  third 
soul,  '  lustre  of  breath,'  residing  in  the  heart ;  the 
dew  which  descends  as  rain  is  djasmani,  the  fourth 
soul,  '  soul  of  the  body,'  residing  in  the  whole 
body.6  This  account  illustrates  the  spiritual 
potentiality  of  the  idea  of  dew. 

There  was  a  special  development  of  the  ideas 
of  dew  in  both  the  Athenian  and  the  Hebrew 
religions. 

(1)  In  Athenian  mythology,  Herse  (Dew)  and 
Pandrosos  (All-dewy)  are  daughters  of  Cecrops 
and  Agraulos.  A  rite,  termed  '  &.pp-qd>opla.  or '  Epo-n- 
qbopia,  was  performed  in  honour  of  Athene.  Little 
is  known  either  of  Herse  or  the  rite  which  seems 
to  bear  her  name,  or  of  Pandrosos.7  The  state- 
ment of  Moeris,  that  the  dppijaidpoi  '  carried  dew  to 
Herse'  in  the  Arrhephoria  is  uncorroborated.8  But 
the  arrhephoroi,  or  hersephoroi,  are  verified  as 
'  maidens  trained  in  the  service  of  Athena,  and 
living  near  the  temple  of  Athena  Polias.' 9  In  the 
Arrhephoria  they  '  brought  a  mysterious  offering 
by  an  underground  passage  from  the  temple  of 
Aphrodite  iv  Ktj7tois,'  not  to  Herse,  or  to  Pan- 
drosos, but  to  Athene.     Farnell  concludes  that 

1  the  fruits  of  the  earth  appear  to  have  been  in  some  way 
consecrated  '  to  Athene.     '  It  is  also  evident  that  at  Athens  she 


1  Perham,  in  H.  Ling  Roth,  The  Natives  of  Sarawak,  1896,  L 
213. 

2  Kruijt,  op.  cit.  383  f.  8  lb.  145. 
•>  Census  of  India,  1903,  i.  £25. 

6  76.  3S3  ;  G.  Turner,  Samoa,  1884,  p.  282  f.     See  also  Crawley, 
Idea  of  the  Soul,  228  t. 

6  Kruijt,  op.  eit.  13. 

7  Frazer,  Paitsan.  ii.  344  f.,  gives  the  known  facta 

8  8.0.  'Epp7fl4>6poi  (ed.  Koch,  130). 
»  Farnell.  CGS  i.  289. 


came  into  some  contact  with  the  earth-goddess.  ...  To 
reconcile  her  cult  with  Athena's,  it  may  ipell  have  happened 
that  the  latter  goddess  was  given  two  of  her  titles,'  namely, 
Pandrosos  and  Herse. 

Pandrosos  is  thus  no  individual  spirit,  nor 
originally  an  epithet  of  Athene,  but  an  epithet 
of  the  Earth  Goddess,  in  reference  to  her  dewy 
covering  and  its  connexion  with  the  growth  of  the 
crops.  The  ceremony  embodying  this  connexion 
was  transferred  to  the  centralized  deity  of  Attica 
— Athene.  The  dew-carriers  are  mentioned  in  in- 
scriptions,1 but  there  is  no  such  verification  of  the 
existence  of  Herse.  She  is  apparently  a  mere 
name,  developed  from  the  terms  "Ep<rv(p6pot.  and 
'Epo-noiopla.''  But  it  is  a  question  what  these  terms 
themselves  imply. 

The  story  of  Erichthonios  being  given  to  the  three  sisters, 
Herse,  Pandrosos,  and  Agraulos,  to  nurse,  Pandrosos  alone 
being  faithful  to  her  trust,  is  explained  by  Miss  Harrison  as  an 
ffltiological  mj'th,  invented  to  account  for  the  rite  of  Arrhe- 
phoria or  Hersephoria.  The  scholiast  on  Aristoph.  Lysistrata, 
64,  observes  :  '  Some  say,  on  account  of  the  o,  it  is  appTjtpopi'a, 
because  maidens  carry  "  nameless  things  "  (dpp7rra) ;  others,  on 
account  of  the  e,  eptrrj^opia,  because  maidens  walk  in  pro- 
cession in  honour  of  Herse,  daughter  of  Cecrops.'  The  terms 
6pdo-os  and  cpcnj  are  also  used  for  the  young  of  animals,  such  as 
lambs  and  sucking  pigs.3  A  remarkable  feature  of  the  Thes- 
mophoria,  another  ritual  performed  by  women  alone,  and  also 
in  connexion  with  the  fertility  of  the  crops,  was  the  casting 
of  pigs  into  fte'ynpa  or  aSvra,  underground  chasms,  and  the 
bringing  ©ut  of  the  rotten  flesh,  presumably  the  following  year. 
These  services  were  performed  by  the  ihesmophoroi,  and  the 
flesh  was  used,  as  in  many  agricultural  customs,  as  a  magical 
fertilizer  of  the  fields.  Miss  Harrison  suggests  that  the  epo-ai 
or  Spoo-ot  '  carried  '  by  the  hersephoroi  were  young  animals,  and 
that  they  were  used  in  a  manner  and  for  a  purpose  similar  to 
those  of  the  ThesmophoriaA  The  Arrhephoria  is  certainly 
associated  with  the  Thesmophoria  and  Skirophoria,  and  it  is 
in  accordance  with  the  principles  of  myth-formation  that,  as 
she  suggests,  both  the  name  Herse  and  the  story  of  Erich- 
thonios should  have  been  invented  to  explain  a  rite  that  had 
become  mysterious. 

Preller,  on  the  other  hand,  had  regarded  Herse  as  a  Dew 
Goddess — a  personification  of  the  Dew.5  LaterGerman  scholars 
regard  her  as  a  nymph  of  the  same  class  as  Auxo  and  Thallo — 
personifications  of  the  '  growth  '  of  the  crops.6  No  reliance  is 
to  be  placed  on  the  scholiast's  reference  to  appirreL.  Any 
'  mysterious,'  that  is,  ritual,  object — even  a  branch  laden  with 
dew — might  be  styled  apptrrov,  just  as  much  as  a  young  animal 
or  its  flesh.  And  the  word  epcnj  has  the  forms  eppr}  and  appij, 
hence  a.ppt)<popia.  and  epprjipopia..  < pa-q  as  a  '  young  thing '  is 
a  metaphor,  a  priori  later  in  origin  than  a  primitive  agricul- 
tural ritual,  and  therefore  unlikely  to  be  the  original  meaning 
of  the  name  of  the  ceremony.  The  scholiast  on  Aristophanes 
says  :  '  Maidens  walk  in  procession  in  honour  of  Herse  '  ;  there 
is  here  no  mention  of  dew,  but  he  may  have  known  that  the 
maidens  carried  branches  laden  with  dew,  and  omitted  to 
mention  the  fact,  branch-carrying  being  a  regular  detail  of 
processions. 

Ottfried  MiiUer  suggested  that  the  arrhephoroi  carried  simply 
leafy  branches  wet  with  dew,  symbolical  of  a  petition  for  a 
supply  of  dew  during  the  heat  of  summer.' 
Thus  we  have  a  ceremony  similar  to  the  wide-spread 
European  custom  of  carrying  May  boughs  dipped  in 
dew.8  In  these  and  in  the  Athenian  custom  there 
may  have  been  a  magical  demand  for  dew  rather 
than  a  prayer  for  it,  but  the  branch  is  the  im- 
portant object,  the  focus  of  the  demand  for  growth 
and  fruitfulness  of  the  crops  ;  and  the  dew  may  be 
merely  an  accessary.  This  explanation,  on  the 
whole,  seems  the  most  probable.  Herse  may  be 
unreal  as  a  deity,  but  the  fact  remains  that  the 
Athenian  mythologists,  if  not  the  Athenian  priests, 
actually  personified  the  Dew,  while  the  herse- 
phoroi certainly  carried  something  in  procession. 
Though  unverified,  Moeris'  statement  may  have 
hit  the  truth,  and  what  they  carried  may  have 
been  dew.  Here  it  is  possibly  significant  that  the 
arrhephoroi  carried  their  offering  from  the  temple 
of  Aphrodite  eV  Kriwots.  The  dew-laden  branches 
may  have  grown  in  the  gardens  of  the  goddess  of 
procreation,  and  possibly  the  generative  symbolism 

1  CIA  iii.  319  :  'Ep.x7|<popoi. 

2  J.  E.  Harrison,  Mythol.  and  Monuments  of  Anc.  Athens, 
1890,  p.  xxx. 

3  Cf.  j£sch.  Agam.  141 ;  Artemis  is  kind  to  the  Spderei  of 
fierce  creatures. 

4  Op.  cit.  xxx  ff.  »  Gr.  Mythol."  i.  173. 

6  Roscher,  s.v.  '  Herse.' 

7  Daremberg-Saglio,  s.v.  '  Arrhephoria.' 
S&fi2i.  196ff. 


DHAMMAPALA 


701 


of  dew  was  a  factor  in  the  ritual  (see  above).  The 
dew  would  thus  serve  to  impregnate  the  fields. 

In  the  case  of  Apollo  Hersos  at  Vari,  the  epithet 
seems  to  be  of  the  same  character  as  Pandrosos. 

(2)  The  post-Biblical  literature  and  ritual  of  the 
Hebrews  show  an  interesting  development  of  the 
ideas  of  the  OT  concerning  dew.  The  Book  of 
Enoch,  after  describing  the  dwelling  of  the  spirit 
of  the  dew,  and  the  connexion  between  its  clouds 
and  the  clouds  of  the  mist,1  speaks  of  '  winds 
coming  from  the  middle  of  the  twelve  portals '  ; 
these  bring  '  beneficial  dew  of  prosperity  ' ;  from 
other  portals,  '  hurtful  dew  '  emerges,  accompanied 
by  locusts  and  other  calamities.2  So  the  Rab- 
binical writings  state  that  '  in  the  sixth  heaven, 
Makon,  there  are  treasuries  of  hurtful  dews 
and  of  beneficial  dewdrops.'8  A  prayer  is  offered 
between  Pesah  and  Shab-A'dth  that  God  may  pre- 
serve the  people  from  the  hurtful  dews.4  The  two 
loaves  of  bread  '  waved  '  on  ShdbU'dth  are  a  sym- 
bolic petition  to  the  Ruler  of  heaven  and  earth 
and  the  four  winds,  to  withhold  the  unpropitious 
winds  and  dews.6  As  for  the  dew  of  blessing,  thus 
fluctuating  between  the  material  and  the  moral, 
it  is  said  that,  since  the  destruction  of  the  Temple, 
no  dew  of  unmixed  blessing  falls 6 — apparently  on 
account  of  the  cessation  of  the  tithes  and  the 
heave-offering.'  Dew  falls  as  a  heavenly  gift,  and 
by  the  merit  of  no  man.8  Yet  only  on  account  of 
Israel  does  dew  come  as  a  blessing  upon  the  world  ; 
on  account  of  Jacob  or  of  Job.B  God  promised 
Abraham  under  an  oath  never  to  let  dew  cease  to 
bless  his  descendants,  and  therefore  the  words  of 
Elijah  could  not  stop  its  fall.10 

The  Dew  of  the  Resurrection  is  a  remarkable 
concentration  of  these  ideas,  originating  chiefly 
from  a  passage  of  Isaiah :  '  Awake  and  sing,  ye 
that  dwell  in  the  dust :  for  thy  dew  is  as  the  dew 
of  herbs,  and  the  earth  shall  cast  forth  the  dead.'  u 
The  passage,  '  Thou,  O  God,  didst  send  a  plentiful 
rain,  thou  didst  confirm  thine  inheritance,  when 
it  was  weary,' w  was  interpreted  to  refer  to  an 
incident  at  the  giving  of  the  Law  : 

*  When  God  appeared  amidst  the  trembling  of  the  earth  on 
Sinai,  life  fled  from  the  people  of  Israel  and  from  all  the  living 
people  in  the  land  of  Israel ;  and  the  angels  said:  "Dost  Thou 
deBire  to  give  Thy  Law  unto  the  dead  or  unto  the  living?" 
Then  God  dropped  the  dew  of  Resurrection  upon  all,  and  they 
revived.'13 

This  Dew  of  the  Resurrection  is  stored  up  in 
'Arabot,  the  highest  heaven  ; 14  and  by  it  the  dead 
are  revived. 16 

In  the  modern  Hebrew  liturgies  Geshem,  '  rain,' 
and  fal,  'dew,'  have  an  important  place,  though 
the  prayers  for  them  are  '  regarded  rather  as 
an  affirmation  of  the  Divine  control  of  the 
seasons.'16  On  the  first  day  of  Passover,  fal  is 
substituted  for  Geshem.  On  this  and  other  occa- 
sions for  Tal,  the  reader  of  Musaf  puts  on  the 
white  shroud  and  cap,  as  on  the  Day  of  Atone- 
ment. The  Talmudists  decided  that  the  actual 
prayer  for  rain — '  Give  dew  and  rain  for  a  blessing 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth ' — should  be  introduced 
only  at  the  inception  of  the  rainy  season.  The 
melodies  accompanying  Geshem  and  Tal  are  vari- 
ous throughout  Europe,  and  are  distinguished  by  a 
quaint  charm.17 

Literature.— K.  Kohler,  L.  N.  Dembitz,  F.  L.  Cohen, 
in  JE,8.vv.  '  Dew,'  '  Geshem  ' ;  T.  K.  Cheyne,  art.  'Dew,' in 
EBi  ;  J.  Neil,  Palestine  Explored,  1882  ;  E.  Hull,  art.  '  Dew,'  in 
HDB ;  J.  G.  Frazer,  GBZ,  1900,  Pausanias,  1900 ;  L.  Preller, 
Griechische    Mythologies,     1872-75;      Roscher,    s.v.     'Tau'; 

1  En.  6020.  2  7g8ff..  s  Bag.  126. 

4  Lev.  B.  28.  6  lb.;  Suk.  376.  6  iota  ix.  12. 

7  Shab.  Sib. 

8  Jerus.  Ta  an.  i.  63d  ;  Ber.  v.  96.  9  Gen.  R.  66. 
W  Jerus.  Ta'an.  I.e.;  Bab.  Ta'an.  3(1,6. 

"  Is  2619.  12  Ps  689. 

is  K.  Kohler,  in  JE,  s.v.  '  Dew.  «  Bag.  126. 

">  Jerus.  Ber.  v.  96,  Ta'an.  i.  63d. 

16  L.  N.  Dembitz  and  F.  L.  Cohen,  in  JE,  s.v.  '  Geshem." 
«  JE,  loco.  citt. 


L.  R.  Farnell,  CGS,  vol.  i.  [1806];  J.  E.  Harrison,  Mi/tlwl. 
and  Monuments  of  Ancient  Athens,  1890;  A.  C.  Kruijt,  llet 
Animismc  in  den  Ind.  Archipel,  1906. 

A.  E.  Crawley. 

DHAMMAPALA.— This  epithet  means  'De- 
fender of  the  Faith ' ;  it  has  been  chosen  as  an 
honorary  title  by  Buddhist  kings,  and  as  their 
name  in  religion  by  members  of  the  Buddhist 
Order,  but  laymen  do  not  use  it.  As  a  royal  title 
it  has  been  traced  only  in  N.  India  and  Burma 
(Buddhaghosuppatti,l\,  21) ;  as  a  name  for  bhikkhus 
it  has  been  fairly  prevalent  in  India  and  Ceylon 
from  the  6th  cent.  B.C.  down  to  the  present  day. 
A  Dhammapala  is  included  among  the  theras 
('elders')  contemporary  with  the  Buddha,  to 
whom  are  ascribed  the  poems  preserved  in  the 
Therigatha ;  and  several  others  are  mentioned  as 
the  authors  of  minor  works  of  later  date.  The 
only  one  who  played  an  important  part  in  the 
history  of  the  religion  is  distinguished  from  the 
others  by  the  special  title  of  Achariya,  '  the 
Teacher.' 

In  the  colophons  to  those  of  his  work9  that  have 
so  far  been  edited  we  find  two  statements  :  (1)  that 
he  claimed  to  have  followed  the  traditional  inter- 
pretation of  his  texts  as  handed  down  in  the  Great 
Minster  at  Anuradhapura  in  Ceylon  ;  and  (2)  that 
his  life  was  spent  at  the  Badara  Tittha-Vihara. 
And  from  the  Sasana-vainsa  (p.  33)  we  learn  that 
this  place  was  in  the  Tamil  country,  not  far  from 
Ceylon.  It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  Dhamma- 
pala was  educated  at  the  same  university  as 
Buddhaghosa,  and  that  he  was  a  Tamil  by  birth 
and  lived  and  wrote  in  South  India. 

The  first  of  these  conclusions  is  confirmed  by  the 
published  works  of  the  two  writers.  They  have 
very  similar  views,  they  appeal  to  the  same 
authorities,  they  have  the  same  method  of  exegesis, 
they  have  reached  the  same  stage  in  philological 
and  etymological  science  (a  stage  far  beyond  that 
reached  at  that  time  in  Europe),  they  have  the 
same  lack  of  any  knowledge  of  the  simplest  rules 
of  the  higher  criticism.  So  far  as  we  can  at  present 
judge,  they  must  have  been  trained  in  the  same 
school. 

As  to  the  second  point — the  birth  and  life  of 
Dhammapala  in  South  India — we  have  a  curious 
confirmation  from  outside.  Yuan  Chwang  visited 
Kanchipura,  the  capital  of  the  Tamil  country,  in 
A.D.  640.  The  brethren  there  told  him  that 
Dhammapala  had  been  born  there. 

'  He  was  a  boy  of  good  natural  parts  which  received  great 
development  as  he  grew  up.  When  he  came  of  age,  a  daughter 
of  the  king  was  assigned  to  him  as  wife.  But  on  the  night 
before  the  ceremony  of  marriage  was  to  be  performed,  being 
greatly  distressed  in  mind,  he  prayed  earnestly  before  an  image 
of  the  Buddha.  In  answer  to  his  prayer  a  god  bore  him  away 
to  a  mountain  monastery  some  hundreds  of  li  from  the  capital. 
When  the  brethren  there  heard  his  story,  they  complied  with 
his  request  and  gave  him  ordination.'  1 

It  is  true  that  the  English  translators  of  Yuan 
Chwang  use  the  Sanskritized  form  of  the  name 
(Dharmapala).  This  would  not  necessarily  show 
that  the  Chinese  pilgrim  applied  the  story  to  a 
person  different  from  our  Dhammapala ;  for  both 
he  and  his  translators  frequently  give  the  Sans- 
kritized form  (which  they  imagine  to  be  more 
correct)  for  Pali  names  of  persons  and  places.  But 
Yiian  Chwang  adds  the  title  Phusa  (that  is,  Bod- 
hisattva).  This  shows  that  he  applied  the  story 
to  the  teacher  of  his  own  teacher,  a  Dharmapala 
who  had  been  a  famous  dignitary  of  the  university 
of  Nalanda  in  North  India,  and  who  must  have 
flourished  at  the  end  of  the  6th  century.  To  him 
he  would  naturally  and  properly  apply  this  title, 
which  was  used  among  the  Maliayana  Buddhists 
in  a  sense  about  equivalent  to  our  honorary  degTee 
of  D.D. 

But  it  is  much  more  probable  that  the  Kanchipura 
bhikkhus  told  the  story  of  their  own  distinguished 
1  Waiters,  Yiian  Chwang,  ii.  226. 


702 


DHARMA— DHYANA 


colleague,  and  that  the  pilgrim,  who  knew  nothing 
of  him,  misapplied  it.1  In  any  case  the  two 
scholars  are  quite  distinct.  Their  views  differed 
as  widely  as  those  of  a  Calvinist  and  a  Catholic  ; 
one  wrote  in  Pali,  the  other  in  Sanskrit ;  one  was 
trained  at  Anuradhapura,  the  other  at  Nalanda ; 
and  the  Pali  scholar  was  about  a  century  older 
than  the  Sanskrit  one,  the  one  having  nourished 
in  the  last  quarter  of  the  5th  cent.,  the  other  in 
the  last  quarter  of  the  6th. 

The  Gandha-vamsa,  a  very  late  librarian's  cata- 
logue, enumerates  (p.  60)  14  works  ascribed  to 
Dhammapala.  Even  the  bare  names  are  full  of 
interest.  Whereas  Buddhaghosa  commented  on 
the  five  principal  prose  works  in  the  Canon,  seven 
of  Dhamrnapala's  works  are  commentaries  on  the 
principal  books  of  poetry  preserved  in  the  Canon, 
two  others  are  sub-commentaries  on  Buddhaghosa's 
works,  and  two  more  are  sub -commentaries  on 
commentaries  not  written  by  Buddhaghosa.  This 
shows  the  importance  attached,  at  that  period  in 
the  history  of  the  orthodox  Buddhists,  to  the  work 
of  re-writing  in  Pali  the  commentaries  hitherto 
handed  down  in  the  local  dialects,  such  as  Sinhalese 
and  Tamil. 

In  his  own  commentaries,  Dhammapala  follows 
a  regular  scheme.  First  comes  an  Introduction  to 
the  whole  collection  of  poems,  giving  the  tradi- 
tional account  of  how  it  came  to  be  put  together. 
Then  each  poem  is  taken  separately.  After  ex- 
plaining how,  when,  and  by  whom  it  was  composed, 
each  clause  in  the  poem  is  quoted  and  explained 
philologically  and  exegetically.  These  explana- 
tions are  indispensable  for  a  right  understanding 
of  the  difficult  texts  with  which  he  deals.  The 
remaining  three  works  are  two  commentaries  on 
the  Netti,  the  oldest  Pali  work  not  included  in  the 
Canon,  and  a  psychological  treatise. 

Of  these  14  works  by  Dhammapala,  three  (the  commentaries 
on  the  Therigdthd  and  on  the  Peta-  and  Vimdna-vatthus) 
have  been  published  in  full  by  the  Pali  Text  Society ;  and  an 
edition  of  a  fourth,  his  comment  on  the  Therigdthd,  is  being 
prepared.  Hardy  and  Windisch,  in  their  editions  of  the  texts, 
have  also  given  extracts  from  bis  comments  on  the  Netti  and 
the  Iti-vuttaka. 

It  is  evident,  from  Yuan  Chwang's  account  of 
his  stay  in  the  Tamil  country,  that  in  Dhamrna- 
pala's time  it  was  preponderatingly  Buddhist,  and 
that  of  the  non-Buddhists  the  majority  were  Jains. 
It  is  now  all  but  exclusively  Hindu.  We  have  only 
the  vaguest  hints  as  to  when  and  how  this  remark- 
able change  was  brought  about. 

Literature.  —  Gandha-vamsa,  ed.  Minayeff,  PTS,  1886; 
Buddhaghoeuppatti,  ed.  J.  Gray,  London,  1892  ;  Sdsana-varrisa, 
ed.  M.  Bode,  1897 ;  T.  Watters,  On  Yuan  Chwdng,  ed.  Rhys 
Davids  and  S.  W.  Bushell,  London,  1905 ;  Therigdthd  Com- 
mentary, ed.  G.  Muller,  1892 ;  Peta-vatthu  Commentary,  ed. 
E.  Hardy,  do.  1894 ;  Vimdna-vatthu  Commentary,  ed.  E.  Hardy, 

do.  1901.  t.  W.  Rhys  Davids. 

DHARMA. — Sacred  law  and  duty,  justice,  re- 
ligious merit.  This  is  one  of  the  most  comprehen- 
sive and  important  terms  in  the  whole  range  of 
Sanskrit  literature.  Indian  commentators  have 
explained  it  as  denoting  an  act  which  produces  the 
quality  of  the  soul  called  apurva,  the  cause  of 
heavenly  bliss  and  of  final  liberation.  In  ordinary 
usage,  however,  it  has  a  far  wider  meaning  than 
this,  and  may  denote  established  practice  or  custom 
of  any  caste  or  community.  One  of  the  six  systems 
of  philosophy,  the  Purvamimdmsa,  expressly  pro- 
fesses to  teach  dharma.  The  special  manuals  of 
the  sacred  law,  of  which  the  Code  of  Manu  is  the 
most  familiar  example,  are  called  dharmaiastra, 
'lawbooks,'  or  smrti,  'records  of  tradition.' 
Dharma  personified  is  the  god  of  justice  and  judge 
of  the  dead.  Adharriia,  the  god  of  injustice,  is  his 
adversary.  The  ordeal  of  Dharma  and  Adharma 
consists  in  drawing  lots  from  an  earthen  vessel. 
1  This  question  is  discussed  at  length  by  E.  Hardy  in  ZDMG 
li.  (18981 100-127. 


One  lot  contains  a  white  figure  of  Dharma,  and 
the  other  a  black  figure  of  Adharma.  In  Buddhism, 
Dharma  is  one  of  the  three  members  of  the  trinity 
(triratna,  '  the  three  jewels ')  :  Buddha,  the  law, 
and  the  priesthood.  The  worship  of  Dharma,  which 
is  largely  prevalent  in  Western  Bengal  at  the 
present  day,  appears  to  be  a  remnant  of  Buddhism. 
See  Census  of  India,  1901,  vol.  vi.  p.  204 ;  cf.  LAW 
and  Lawbooks  (Hindu).  J.  Jolly. 

DHINODHAR.  —  A  sacred  hill  in  Western 
India  situated  in  the  State  of  Cutch.  A  ridiculous 
legend  explains  the  name  to  mean  'the  patiently 
bearing,'  because  the  saint  Dharamnath,  weighed 
down  by  the  load  of  his  sins,  determined  to  mortify 
the  flesh  by  standing  on  his  head  upon  some  sacred 
hill.  Two  hills  burst  asunder  under  the  weight  of 
his  iniquities ;  but  Dhinodhar  stood  the  test,  and 
thus  gained  its  name.  The  saint  founded  a  monas- 
tery here  and  established  the  order  of  the  Kanphata, 
or  '  ear-pierced '  Jogls.  The  stone  on  which  the 
saint  is  reported  to  have  done  penance  is  smeared 
with  vermilion  and  venerated,  and  the  head  of  the 
community  when  he  comes  to  worship  is  received 
with  adoration  by  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood 
and  by  pilgrims  who  flock  to  the  holy  place. 
LrrERATDRE. — Bombay  Gazetteer,  v.  [1SS0]  220. 

W.  Crooke. 
DHYANA  (Pali  jhana).—i.  Meditation,  or 
dhyana,  in  Sanskrit. — This  is  a  religious  prac- 
tice which  presupposes  a  life  in  retirement,  and 
concentration  of  mind  upon  a  single  thought.  In 
the  Rigvedic  period  we  find  penance  (tapas)  or 
bodily  mortification,1  but  in  the  Upanisad  or  post- 
Upanisad  religious  schools  the  idea  was  trans- 
ferred from  body  to  mind,  until  it  took  the  form 
of  dhyana,  which  began  with  a  meditation  .on  the 
sacred  syllable  Om.  The  object,  method,  and  other 
details  of  meditation  vary  in  different  schools,  but 
we  may  safely  say  that  it  has  been  and  is  the 
universal  method  of  the  mental  culture  of  all 
Indian  religious  schools.  The  use  of  the  word 
dhyana,  too,  is  not  very  definite  even  in  the 
Upanisads  themselves.  Sometimes  it  is  different 
from  yoga  (concentration),  which  is  a  general  term 
for  such  practices,  or  synonymous  with  it,  or  some- 
times it  is  a  part  of  the  yoga  practice.  See  art. 
Yoga.  We  shall  here  limit  ourselves  to  the  idea 
of  dhyana  in  Buddhism. 

2.  Dhyana  and  samadhi. — In  Buddhism  dhyana 
forms  an  important  factor  in  religious  practice. 
First  of  all,  we  must  clearly  distinguish  dhyana 
(meditation)  from  samadhi  (absorption),  for  a  con- 
fusion of  the  two  terms  often  leads  to  hopeless 
misunderstanding.  Generally  speaking,  medita- 
tion on  an  object  becomes  absorption  when  subject 
and  object,  the  meditater  and  the  meditated,  are 
so  completely  blended  into  one  that  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  separate  subject  altogether  disappears. 
To  attain  Arhat-ship  is  to  reach  the  tranquil  state 
of  samadhi  without  being  affected  at  all  by  outward 
environment  and  inward  sinful  thought.  An 
Arhat  is  accordingly  called  the  Samahita  ('tran- 
quil'). Samadhi  forms  the  fourth  factor  of  the 
Five  Forces  (bala)  and  the  Five  Faculties  (indriya) ; 
the  sixth  of  the  Seven  Constituents  of  Bodhi  {bo- 
dhyahga) ;  and  the  eighth  of  the  Noble  Eightfold 
Path  (marga).1  To  attain  samadhi  is  therefore 
the  sole  object  of  Buddhists,  and  dhyana  is  one 
of  the  most  important  means  leading  to  that  end. 
The  common  classification  of  dhyana  into  four 
degrees  (see  below)  probably  prevailed  already  in 
the  pre-Buddhist  period.  At  any  rate  the  men- 
tion of  the  fourfold  dhyana  in  the  Mahabharata 
(xn.   cxcv.   1),   the  counting  among  heretics   of 

1  e.g.  Rigv.  x.  109.  4, 154.  2,  etc, 
Mahdvyutpatti, 


2  See 
1875,  s.v._  '  Bala, 
art.  Samadhi. 


§  41-44;  and  Ohilders,  Pali  Diet. 
Indriya,'  ( Bojjhanga,'  and  '  Magga,'  and  cf. 


DHYANA 


703 


those  who  regard  each  of  the  four  dhydnas  as  the 
state  of  Nirvana  in  the  Brahma-jdla-sutta,  and 
the  reference  to  a  Rsi,  senior  to  the  Buddha,  prac- 
tising the  eight  samapattis  (four  dhydnas  and  four 
drupyas)  in  the  Jdlaka,  seem  to  point  to  the  fact 
that  the  practice  of  the  four  dhydnas  was  common 
to  both  Brahmans  and  Buddhists.  It  was  the 
Buddha's  part  to  adapt  it  by  adding  some  further 
steps  to  the  four  dhydnas.1 

3.  Religious  practices  preliminary  to  dhyana. — 
Dhydna,  as  stated  above,  is  divided  into  four 
degrees  in  Buddhism.  Even  the  first  and  lowest 
of  the  four  dhydnas  corresponds  in  its  quality  to 
a  state  higher  than  the  sixtk  of  the  eight  con- 
stituents of  yoga  (yoga-ahga).  To  reach  the  first 
dhydna  several  preliminary  practices  are  needed. 
These  correspond  to  the  first  five  constituents  of 
yoga.  First  of  all  one  has  to  keep  precepts  and 
rules  (Ma)  laid  down  by  the  Buddha  (yama  of 
the  yoga-ahgas) ;  secondly,  to  keep  one's  body  and 
mind  pure  and  serene,  living  in  solitary  retirement 
away  from  the  people,  in  a  forest  or  a  cave 
(niyama),  and  sitting  cross-legged,  always  think- 
ing on  a  religious  subject  (dsana).  There  are 
several  methods  of  preparatory  meditation,  ac- 
cording to  the  ability  of  the  meditater.  We  shall 
give  a  few  examples.  A  quick-tempered  novice 
should  practise  the  meditation  on  love  (Pali 
mettd-karund-b/iavand),  in  which  he  is  to  regard 
all  sentient  beings  as  his  parents  or  brothers, 
desiring  their  happiness  and  welfare,  as  all  the 
good  he  would  seek  for  himself.  A  novice  who 
needs  concentration  of  attention  should  practise  at 
first  the  method  of  counting  the  number  of  his 
inspirations  and  expirations  (Pali  dndpdna-sati, 
corresponding  to  the prdndydma  of  the  yoga-ahga). 
Another  novice  whose  impure  desire  is  bard 
to  suppress  should  meditate  on  the  impurity  and 
impermanence  of  the  human  body  (Pali  asubhd- 
bhavana).  Another  novice  whose  mind  is  stupid 
should  practise  self-culture  by  meditating  on  the 
Twelve  Chains  of  Causation.  In  this  way  a 
Buddhist  should  give  himself  to  some  kind  of 
meditation  at  the  outset.  Ten  kasinas,2  ten  anus- 
sati,*  four  or  six  anussati-Uhdnas,i  in  fact,  the 
processes  of  the  so-called  kamma-tthdnas  (analytic 
meditation),  are  all  preparatory  to  the  practice  of 
the  right  dhydnas. 

4.  Details  of  the  four  meditations. — When  one 
gets  accustomed  to  a  concentration  of  mind  amount- 
ing to  a  suppressing  of  the  senses,  one  gradually 
attains  the  state  of  ecstasy,  which  is  often  com- 
pared with  the  feelings  of  a  debt  being  paid  off  or 
of  a  prisoner  being  released  (e.g.  Sdmahha-sutta). 
Roughly  speaking,  this  state  of  ecstasy  is  dhydna, 
yet  in  it  we  have  still  four  successive  states,  (a) 
The  first  dhydna  is  a  state  of  joy  and  gladness  born 
of  seclusion,  full  of  reflexion  and  investigation,  the 
meditater  having  separated  himself  from  all  sensu- 
ality and  sin.  (0)  The  second  dhydna  is  a  state  of 
joy  and  gladness  born  of  deep  tranquillity,  without 
reflexion  and  investigation,  these  being  suppressed ; 
it  is  the  tranquillizing  of  thought,  the  predominance 
of  intuition,  (c)  In  the  third  dhydna  the  meditater 
is  patient  through  gladness  and  the  destruction  of 
passion,  joyful  and  conscious,  aware  in  his  body  of 
that  delight  which  the  Arhats  announce,  patient, 
recollecting,  glad,  (d)  The  fourth  dhydna  is  purity 
of  equanimity  and  recollection,  without  sorrow  and 
without  joy,  by  the  destruction  of  previous  glad- 

1  Digha-nikdya,  i.  36-38,  45-46;  Lalita-vistara,  ed.  Mitra, 
p.  147. 

2  Childers,  s.v.  It  is  a  mystic  meditation  in  which  one  re- 
duces the  universe  to  any  of  the  ten  predominant  ideas,  viz. 
earth,  water,  fire,  air,  ether,  blue,  yellow,  red,  white,  black. 

3  Childers,  s.v.  '  Kammatthana.'  It  is  a  remembrance  of 
Buddha,  dharma,  sangha,  precepts,  gifts,  gods,  breaths,  body, 
death,  and  nirvana. 

4  Childers,  s.v.  It  embraceB  recollections  of  Buddha,  sangha, 
dharma,  precepts,  gifts,  and  gods. 


ness  and  grief,  by  the  rejection  of  joy  and  the 
rejection  of  sorrow.1 

Childers  (p.  169)  explains  the  four  states  with  reference  to 
the  process  of  meditation: — 'He  concentrates  his  mind  upon 
a  single  thought.  Gradually  his  soul  becomes  filled  with  a 
supernatural  ecstasy  and  serenity,  while  his  mind  still  reasons 
upon  and  investigates  the  subject  chosen  for  contemplation  ; 
this  is  the  first  jhdna.  Still  fixing  his  thoughts  upon  the  same 
subject,  he  then  frees  his  mind  from  reasoning  and  investiga- 
tion, while  the  ecstasy  and  serenity  remain,  and  this  is  the 
second  jhdna.  Next,  his  thoughts  still  fixed  as  before,  he 
divests  himself  of  ecstasy,  and  attains  the  third  jhdna,  which 
is  a  state  of  tranquil  serenity.  Lastly,  he  passes  to  the  fourth 
jhdna,  in  which  the  mind,  exalted  and  purified,  is  indifferent 
to  all  emotion,  alike  of  pleasure  and  of  pain.' 

This  has  been  very  conveniently  summed  up  by  Pali  com- 
mentators as  follows: — 'The  first  jhdna  is  accompanied  byre- 
flexion  (vitakka),  investigation  (mchdra),  joy  (piti),  gladness 
(sukha),  and  attention  (chittekaggatd) ;  the  second  plana  is 
accompanied  by  joy,  gladness,  and  attention  ;  the  third  jhdna 
is  accompanied  by  gladness  and  attention  ;  the  fourth  jhdna  is 
accompanied  by  indifference  (upekha).' 

The  four  thus  form  progressive  steps  of  medita- 
tion in  which  we  can  go  up  step  by  step.  Each  of 
the  first  three  is  further  divided  into  three  orders 
— initial  (paritta),  medial  (rnajjhima),  and  final 
(panlta) ;  the  fourth  dhydna  alone  is  the  im- 
movable state,  free  from  all  the  eight  troubles — 
inspiration,  respiration,  reflexion,  investigation, 
sorrow,  pleasure,  pain,  and  joy. 

The  Buddhist  cosmological  arrangement  of  Rupa- 
loka  (world  with  form),  divided  into  sixteen  heavens, 
is  made  to  suit  those  who  have  attained  the  four 
dhydnas,  and  who  can  freely  enjoy  the  heavenly 
life  either  before  or  after  death.  The  state  of 
sainadhi  resulting  from  each  of  the  four  dhydnas 
determines  one's  position  in  the  heavens,  which 
are  generally  assigned  as  follows : — 
Rflpa-loka-heavens.2 

1.  Brahma-parisajja  deval 

2.  Brahma-purohita     , 


First  Dhyana 
heavens. 


Second  Dhyana 
heavens. 

Third  Dhyana 
heavens. 


Fourth  Dhyana 
heavens. 


3.  Mahabrahma 

4.  Parittabha 

5.  Appamanabha 

6.  Abhassara 

7.  Paritta-subha 

8.  Appamana-subha 

9.  Subha-kirma 

10.  Vehapphala 

11.  Asafina-satta 

12.  Aviha 

13.  Atappa, 

14.  Sudassa 

15.  SudassI  ,,     I 

16.  Akanittha  „    .' 

5.  The  effect  of  meditation. — The  aim  of  medita- 
tion is  the  attainment  of  Arhat-ship,  perfect  en- 
lightenment, which  possesses  the  following  merits. 
(a)  Extinction  of  desire  (tanhd).  The  fickle  thought 
and  indulgence  of  physical  power  produce  sin  and 
illusion,  which  are  the  chief  obstacles  to  the 
acquisition  of  Arhat-ship.  The  complete  annihila- 
tion of  sinful  thought,  i.e.  the  state  of  the  fourth 
meditation,  will  lead  to  perfect  enlightenment, 
the  highest  aim  of  the  Buddhist.  The  first  three 
dhydnas  therefore  belong  to  sekho  (the  first  seven 
grades  of  the  Holy  Paths),  while  the  fourth  belongs 
only  to  an  asekho,  i.e.  an  Aihat. 

(0)  Consolidation  of  knowledge  (hdna-dassana). 
The  practice  of  dhydna  will  naturally  lead  to  the 
easy  concentration  of  the  mental  faculties  on  a 
certain  thought,  and  strengthen  special  functions 
proper  to  the  consciousness.  The  right  under- 
standing of  the  Four  Noble  Truths  (ariya-sachcha), 
the  cultivation  of  the  four  appamannd,3  etc.,  can 

1  Rhys  Davids,  Buddhism,  London,  1899,  pp.  175-176. 

2  Buddhist  cosmology  assumes  the  existence  of  three  heavenly 
worlds  :  (1)  Kdma-loka  (world  of  love),  consisting  of  six  grades ; 
(2)  Rupa-loka  (world  of  form),  in  sixteen  grades  ;  and  (3)  Arupa- 
loka  (world  without  form),  in  four  grades.  The  last  can  be 
enjoyed  only  by  one  who  has  reached  Arhat-ship.  See,  further, 
art.  Cosmogony  and  Cosmologt  (Buddhist). 

3  Appamaflfid  is  the  unlimited  exercise  of  the  qualities  of 
friendliness  (inettd),  compassion  (karund),  goodwill  (muditd), 
equanimity  {upekha}. 


704 


DIGAMBARAS— DINKA 


be  attained  only  by  the  practice  of  dhyana. 
Especially  the  all-important  appamaniid,  which  is 
common  to  Buddhism  and  the  yoga  philosophy, 
can  be  exercised  only  by  the  medium  of  dhyanas. 
In  short,  the  attainment  of  knowledge  cannot  be 
perfectly  accomplished,  according  to  the  Buddhist 
theory,  without  practice  of  meditation. 

(c)  Acquisition  of  superhuman  faculties  (iddhi). 
There  are  six  supernatural  powers  (abhiiind),  viz. 
various  magical  powers  (iddhividha),  divine  ear 
(dibbasota),  divine  eye  {dibbachakhu),  knowledge  of 
the  thought  of  others  (parachittavijdnana),  know- 
ledge of  the  former  existences  (pubbenivasdnussati- 
nana),  and  knowledge  which  causes  the  destruction 
of  human  passion  (dsavakkhayakara-ndna).  These 
may  be  perfected  by  meditation.  The  Yogins,  too, 
expect  vibhuti  (superhuman  faculties)  by  means  of 
meditation. 

(d)  Enjoyment  of  the  peace  of  dhyana.  Medita- 
tion gives  the  tranquillity  of  rest.  The  dying 
Buddha  is  said  to  have  sunk  in  meditation  and 
passed  all  its  steps  forward  and  backward,  till  at 
last  he  reposed  at  the  fourth  meditation,  and  then 
went  into  the  Great  Decease  (Parinibbdna).1 
Dhyana  is  practised  by  one  with  the  purpose  of 
cultivating  oneself,  but  at  the  same  time  with  the 
aim  of  reposing  oneself  in  peace,  utilizing  the  result 
of  it.  Therefore  it  is  sometimes  called  the  '  practice 
of  great  enjoyment '  (cf.  Brahmavihara). 

6.  Development  of  the  idea  of  meditation. — 
Dhyana  in  primitive  Buddhism  is  a  means  of 
attaining  samddhi.  In  the  Mahayana  school  its 
scope  has  been  very  much  widened.  The  dhyana- 
pdramita,  the  fifth  of  the  six  paramitas  (perfections) 
is  only  the  way  for  the  Bodhisattvas  or  Mahayan- 
ists,  but  not  for  an  Arhat  or  Hinayanist.  One  of 
Nagarj una's  works5  enumerates  sixteen  kinds  of 
dhyana  confined  to  Bodhisattvas.  Asanga's  Yoga- 
charabhumi  mentions  nine  dhyanas,  and  again 
subdivides  them  into  thirty-nine.3  Further,  in  the 
Lahkavatdra  sutra  (ch.  2),  dhyana  is  divided  into 
four:  (1)  balapichdrika,  'practised  by  ordinary 
persons ' ;  (2)  arthapravichaya,  '  contemplating  of 
objects';  (3)  tathatalambana,  'meditating  on 
Truth';  (4)  tathagata,  'meditation  of  Buddha.' 
The  four  dhyanas  of  primitive  Buddhism  as  well  as 
those  of  the  Yogins  are  all  included  in  the  first 
category,  the  remaining  three  being  a  development 
in  the  Mahayana  schools. 

The  ideal  of  early  Buddhism  is  the  equilibrium 
of  morals  (ilia),  meditation  (dhyana),  and  know- 
ledge (prajnd) ;  but  in  later  Buddhism  the  balance 
was  not  supposed  to  be  an  important  feature  for  a 
Buddhist,  and  meditation  came  to  have  more 
weight  than  the  other  two  factors,  until  in  China 
and  Japan  there  arose  a  sect,  the  Zen  (Japanese 
for  dhyana),  in  which  it  is  the  most  essential  part 
of  the  entire  teaching.  This  sect  has  been  gaining 
ground  more  and  more,  especially  among  the  upper 
classes.     See  art.  Zen. 

Literature. — The  literature  has  been  indicated  throughout 
the  article.  M.  ANESAKI  and  J.  TAKAKUSU. 

DIGAMBARAS.— The  Digambaras,  also  called 
Digvasanas,  form  one  of  the  two  branches  of  the 
Jains.  The  name,  lit.  = '  clothed  in  the  quarters 
of  the  sky,'  designates  them  as  naked  monks, 
in  contradistinction  to  the  monks  of  the  other 
branch  of  the  Jains,  the  Svetambaras,  who  wear 
white  clothes.  There  is  very  little  difference  be- 
tween these  two  branches  as  regards  the  creed ; 
indeed,  one  of  the  most  authoritative  books  of 
the  Digambaras,  the  Tattvdrthddhigama  Sutra  by 
Umasvati,  is  also  one  of  the  standard  books  of  the 
Svetambaras,  and  its  author  most  probably  was  a 
Svetambara. 

1  Cf.  Warren,  Buddhism,  Camb.,  Mass.,  1896,  p.  109 f. 
3  Nanjio,  no.  1181.  3  /;>.,  n0.  1170,  ch.  43. 


The  peculiar  tenets  of  the  Digambaras  are  the 
following.  (1)  Perfect  saints  (kevalins),  such  as 
the  Tirthakaras,  live  without  food.  (2)  The  em- 
bryo of  Mahavira,  the  last  Tirthakara,  was  not 
removed  from  the  womb  of  Devananda  to  that  of 
Trisala,  as  the  Svetambaras  contend.  (3)  A  monk 
who  owns  any  property,  e.g.  wears  clothes,  cannot 
reach  Nirvana.  (4)  No  woman  can  reach  Nirvana. 
Though,  therefore,  the  difference  in  matters  of 
belief  between  the  two  sects  is,  from  our  point 
of  view,  rather  trifling,  still  the  division  between 
them  is  very  marked.  The  following  points  deserve 
to  be  specially  noticed.  The  Digambaras  disown 
the  canonical  books  of  the  Svetambaras,  and  con- 
tend that  they  have  gradually  been  lost  during 
the  first  centuries  after  the  Nirvana  of  Mahavira  ; 
accordingly  they  have  no  canonical  books  of  their 
own.  In  consequence  of  their  having,  in  early 
times,  separated  from  the  other  sect  and  developed 
independently  of  it,  the  Digambaras  have  an 
ecclesiastical  as  well  as  a  literary  history  of  their 
own,  and  have  religious  ceremonies,  especially 
with  regard  to  the  laity,  which  differ  from  those 
of  their  rivals. 

As  regards  the  origin  of  the  Digambara  sect,  it 
is  ascribed  by  the  Svetambaras  to  Sivabhuti,  who 
started  the  heretical  sect  of  the  '  Botikas '  in  609 
after  the  Nirvana,  or  A.D.  83.  This  report  is  denied 
by  the  Digambaras  ;  they  maintain  that  they  have 
preserved  the  original  practices,  but  that,  under 
the  eighth  successor  of  Mahavira,  Bhadrabahu,  a 
sect  with  laxer  principles  arose ;  and  that  this 
sect,  which  was  called  that  of  the  Ardhaphalakas, 
developed  136  years  after  Vikrama,  or  A.D.  80,  into 
the  present  sect  of  Svetambaras  (ZDMG  xxxviii. 
[18S4]  7  ff.). 

The  Digambaras  are  most  numerous  in  Southern 
India,  where  they  must  have  held  an  important 
position  in  the  early  centuries  of  our  era ;  for  in 
the  literature  of  the  Dravidian  people  the  influence 
of  Jainism  is  admitted  by  the  specialists.  It  may 
be  mentioned  that  the  Digambaras  have  an  exten- 
sive literature  of  their  own,  chiefly  in  Sanskrit, 
which  goes  back  to  a  greater  antiquity  than  that 
of  the  Svetambaras,  if  we  except  the  canonical 
books  of  the  latter.  For  further  details,  the  reader 
is  referred  to  the  art.  Jainism.  H.  Jacobi. 

DINKA.  —  1.  Geographical  distribution  and 
organization. — The  Dinka  are  a  congeries  of  in- 
dependent tribes  spread  over  a  vast  area,  stretch- 
ing from  Renk  in  the  north  (scarcely  300  miles 
south  of  Khartum)  to  within  100  miles  of  Gondo- 
koro,  and  reaching  many  miles  to  the  west  in  the 
Bahr  el-Ghazal  Province.  All  these  tribes  call 
themselves  Jieng  or  Jenge,  corrupted  by  the  Arabs 
into  Dinka ;  but  no  Dinka  nation  has  arisen,  for 
the  tribes  have  never  recognized  a  supreme  chief, 
as  do  their  neighbours  the  Shilluk,  nor  have  they 
ever  been  united  under  a  military  despot,  as  the 
Zulus  were  united  under  Chaka.  They  differ  in 
manners  and  customs  and  even  in  physique,  and 
are  often  at  war  with  one  another.  One  of  the 
most  obvious  distinctions  in  habits  is  between  the 
relatively  powerful  cattle-owning  Dinka  and  the 
small  and  comparatively  poor  tribes  who  have  no 
cattle  and  scarcely  cultivate  the  ground,  but  live 
in  the  marshes  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Sudd, 
and  depend  largely  for  their  sustenance  on  fishing 
and  hippopotamus-hunting.  Their  villages,  gene- 
rally dirty  and  evil-smelling,  are  built  on  ground 
which  rises  but  little  above  the  reed-covered  sur- 
face of  the  country.  The  members  of  these  poor 
tribes  call  themselves  Moin  Tain,  i.e.  'Tain 
people,'  tain  meaning  a  piece  of  dry  ground  in  the 
micfst  of  the  marshes  ;  and,  although  many  quite 
distinct  tribes  live  in  the  marshes  and  lead  the  life 
this  habitat  entails,  their  cattle-owning  neighbours 


DINKA 


705 


speak  of  them  all  as  Moin  Tain,  just  as  they  speak 
of  themselves  by  their  tribal  names,  e.g.  Agar,  Bor, 
Aliab,  and  Shish.1 

As  there  has  been  room  for  considerable  modification  in  the 
development  of  those  common  ideas  which  lie  at  the  root  of  the 
social  organization  and  religious  beliefs  of  all  Dinka,  the  writer 
of  the  present  article  indicates  the  source  from  which  his  infor- 
mation was  obtained,  whenever  there  is  any  probability  that  a 
custom  is  not  universal  among;  them.  The  information  is  derived 
principally  from  members  of  the  following-  tribes  :  (1)  the  Shish, 
living  near  Shambe  in  the  region  of  the  Sudd  ;  and  (2)  the  Bor 
Dinka  and  the  Chiro  and  Ngong  Nyang  tribes  of  the  Moin  Tain, 
living  some  20  to  30  miles  to  the  south  of  the  Sudd.  He  has 
also  had  the  opportunity  of  discussing  various  matters  with 
some  very  intelligent  Niel  Dinka  from  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  Khor  Adar,  near  Melut,  north  of  Kodok  ;  with  the  Nok 
Dinka  of  the  neighbourhood  of  Lake  No  ;  and  with  some  Agar 
Dinka  from  the  Bahr  el-Ghazal  Province  serving  in  the  Xth 
Sudanese  Battalion. 

Each  community  is  largely  autonomous,  under 
the  leadership  of  a  chief  or  headman  {bain),  who, 
though  primarily  a  spiritual  ruler,  controls  the 
village  with  the  help  of  the  elders.  The  actual 
authority  exerted  by  the  bain  varies  enormously  ; 
in  many  communities  he  is  little  more  than  the 
local  magician,  but  in  one  community  in  each  tribe 
he  is  the  hereditary  rain-maker,  the  most  import- 
ant man  in  the  tribe,  who  is  consulted  and  deferred 
to  on  every  occasion,  and  whose  wish  is  law. 
Except  among  the  Tain  tribes,  cattle  form  the 
economic  basis  of  Dinka  society ;  they  are  the 
currency  in  which  bride-price  and  blood-fines  are 
paid  ;  and  the  desire  to  acquire  a  neighbour's  herds 
is  the  common  cause  of  those  inter-tribal  raids 
which  constitute  Dinka  warfare. 

2.  Totemism. — The  Dinka  tribes  are  divided  into 
a  number  of  exogamous  clans  which  the  Bor  Dinka 
call  ut,  the  Tain  and  Aliab  got,  and  the  Shish  deb. 
The  meanings  of  these  words  cannot  be  discussed 
here,  though  it  is  significant  that  among  the  cattle- 
owning  tribes  these  same  terms  are  also  used  for 
the  cattle  kraals  of  their  clans.  The  Dinka  are 
totemistic,  and  the  large  majority  of  their  clans 
speak  of  certain  animals  as  their  *  ancestors,'  kwar 
being  the  word  used  by  the  Tain  tribes.  Usually 
the  kwar  has  nothing  to  do  with  a  man's  personal 
name  (one  man  whose  name  signified  hycena  had  a 
crocodile  as  his  kwar),  but,  in  the  words  of  one  of 
the  writer's  Tain  informants,  it  is  the  '  animal  who 
is  the  spirit  {jok)  of  the  clan  {gol).*  Further,  ruai, 
the  ordinary  word  meaning  'related,'  is  used  when 
speaking  of  the  bond  between  a  man  and  his  kwar, 
i.e.  they  are  ruai,  'relatives.'  No  man  injures  his 
kwar  animal,  but  all  respect  it  in  various  ways. 
Sometimes  the  kwar  is  a  plant,  as  among  some 
Agar  and  Shish  clans,  who  treat  the  totem  plant 
with  much  the  same  reverence  as  is  commonly 
shown  to  the  totem  animal.  Besides  these  fairly 
typical  totem  ancestors,  there  are  clans  whose 
totems  (kivar)  do  not  belong  to  the  animal  kingdom ; 
thus  the  Mai  clan  of  the  Bor  Dinka  have  fire  as 
their  totem,  and  in  this  case  there  is  no  story  of 
direct  descent  from  fire.  Certain  clans  have  as 
kwar  heroes  to  whom  more  than  human  wisdom  is 
attributed,  or  who  came  among  them  under  cir- 
cumstances that  betoken  that  they  are  super- 
human. The  clans  are  usually  designated  by  the 
name  of  their  (reputed)  first  human  ancestor ; 
comparatively  few  are  spoken  of  by  the  name  of 
their  animal,  though  there  is  a  Niel  (snake)  clan, 
and  even  a  Niel  tribe,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Khor  Adar  Dinka. 

1  The  writer  takes  this  opportunity  of  expressing  his  thanks 
to  the  Rev.  Archibald  Shaw,  in  charge  of  the  C.M.S.  station  at 
Malek,  for  his  invaluable  help  among  the  Tain  and  Bor  Dinka, 
whose  language  he  speaks  fluently ;  to  him  he  is  indebted  for 
the  translation  of  the  majority  of  the  Dinka  words  and  phrases 
in  this  article.  No  attempt  has  been  made  to  do  more  than  to 
reproduce  very  roughly  the  sound  of  the  Dinka  words.  In  pro- 
nouncing c  and,?"  a  Dinka  presses  the  tip  of  his  tongue  into  the 
gap  left  by  the  removal  of  his  lower  incisor  teeth,  and  it  seems 
doubtful  whether  there  is  a  true  s  sound  in  Dinka,  so  that 
'Shish'  might  be  written  (probably  with  a  nearer  approach  to 
accuracy)  *  Chich '  or  '  Twich.' 
vol.  iv. — 45 


Most  of  the  Dinka  clans  whose  kwar  is  an  animal 
derive  their  origin  from  a  man  born  as  one  of 
twins,  his  fellow-twin  being  an  animal  of  the 
species  which  is  the  totem  of  the  clan.  Sometimes 
the  association  is  not  quite  so  close,  in  which  case 
the  totem  animal  usually  lays  certain  commands 
upon  one  of  the  members  of  the  clan,  offering  in 
return  certain  privileges.  Commands  and  privileges 
alike  show  the  close  relationship  existing  between 
the  animal  and  the  man  to  whom  he  speaks,  who 
is  traditionally  looked  upon  as  the  ancestor  of  the 
clan.  Although  children  take  their  father's  totem, 
they  respect  their  mother's  totem  animal  or  plant, 
and  an  animal  may  be  avoided  for  several  genera- 
tions for  this  reason.  Thus,  a  man  whose  paternal 
grandmother  had  the  poisonous  snake  anong  as 
totem  said  that,  if  he  saw  any  one  kill  a  snake  of 
this  species,  he  would  bury  it,  because  it  was  the 
jok  of  his  father's  mother.  Further,  it  is  cus- 
tomary for  men  and  women  to  avoid  eating  their 
spouses'  totem  animal. 

The  following  information  concerning  the  origin 
of  their  totems  was  obtained  from  men  of  the 
Ngong  Nyang  tribe.  It  will  be  noted  that  the 
clans  are  not  called  by  the  name  of  their  totem 
animal,  but  by  that  of  their  legendary  human 
founder. 

Gol  e  Mariak. — This  clan  has  as  totem  the  snake  (niel).  Long 
ago  a  snake  came  into  the  hut  of  a  man  named  Mariak,  and 
there  gave  birth  to  its  young.  The  snake  spoke  to  Mariak,  tell- 
ing him  not  to  hurt  it  or  its  children  :  '  If  you  see  a  man  hurt 
one  of  my  children,  tie  the  mourning  band  of  palm-leaf  round 
your  head.'  Another  informant  who  belongs  to  this  clan  said 
that  his  snake  would  come  into  his  hut  at  night  and  talk  to 
him.  He  declared  that  this  did  not  occur  in  a  dream,  but  that 
the  snake  really  entered  his  hut,  and  he  offered  it  boiled  fish 
or  hippopotamus  meat,  turning  this  out  on  the  floor  of  the  hut 
for  the  snake  to  eat.  He  said  that  he  occasionally  sacrificed  a 
goat  to  his  snake  and  made  offerings  of  goats'  milk.  Another 
Ngong  Nyang  man  gave  the  following  account  of  his  conduct 
towards  snakes  of  the  aro  species,  his  mother's  totem  animal. 
If  he  saw  one  of  these  snakes  in  the  forest,  he  would  sprinkle 
dust  on  its  back,  for  otherwise  the  snake  might  upbraid  him  for 
lack  of  friendliness.  If  the  snake  were  angry  and  tried  to  bite 
him,  dust  sprinkled  on  its  back  would  propitiate  it ;  but,  if  he 
could  not  appease  it  and  it  bit  him,  he  and  the  snake  would 
both  die.  If  the  snake  bit  a  man  of  a  strange  clan,  the  man 
would  die,  but  not  the  snake,  for  the  snake  and  the  folk  of 
foreign  clans  are  not  related  (rum).  His  children  show  the 
same  reverence  for  this  snake  as  he  does,  and  so  also  do  all 
descendants  of  one  Nyal,  with  whom  the  snake  first  made 
friends.  Nyal  was  sleeping  in  his  hut  when  a  snake  (aro)  crept 
in,  and,  seeing  him  sleeping,  slipped  in  between  his  body  and 
the  ground  for  warmth.  Nyal  woke  up,  but  the  snake  did  him 
no  harm.  Then  Nyal  took  some  fat  and  pub  it  upon  the  snake's 
tongue,  which  so  pleased  it  that  it  stayed  in  the  hut  many  days. 
Nyal  fetched  a  tiet  (on  whom  see  below,  §  4),  and  '  the  snake 
went  into  the  throat  of  the  tiet,'  and  said :  '  I  do  not  desire  any 
evil ;  do  you  give  me  fat  like  this,  and  I  shall  be  well  pleased.' 

Gol  Akdn  Chang  Jurkwait. — Akon  Chang  Jurkwait  was  the 
name  of  the  boy  born  to  one  Nyanajok  Alerjok  as  one  of  twins, 
his  fellow-twin  being  an  elephant.  The  boy  was  brought  up  in 
the  village  in  the  usual  way,  but  the  elephant  was  turned  loose 
in  the  jungle. 

Gol  e  Luel  has  the  crocodile  for  totem.  Long  ago  Luel  found 
the  eggs  of  a  crocodile  ;  he  put  them  in  his  canoe,  and,  when  he 
reached  home,  buried  them  under  the  floor  of  his  hut.  One 
night,  as  the  eggs  were  on  the  point  of  hatching,  the  old 
crocodile  came  and  scratched  thera  up,  and  then  led  the  young 
to  the  river.  Before  leaving  the  hut,  the  crocodile  said  to 
Luel :  '  Do  not  hurt  us,  and  we  will  not  hurt  you.  Wear 
mourning  on  your  head  and  stomach  for  the  crocodile,  if  any  of 
you  see  another  man  kill  one.'  A  man  of  this  clan  will  not  hesi- 
tate to  swim  in  the  river  even  at  night,  for  the  crocodiles  will 
not  hurt  him. 

Gol  e  YukwaX  e  Lukab  $  Lerkwe  has  the  hippopotamus  as 
totem.  _ 

Gol  e  Yichol  has  the  lion  as  totem,  the  founder  of  this  clan 
having  been  the  twin-brother  of  a  lion.  One  Choi,  a  man  who 
lives  in  Yelakort  village,  belongs  to  this  olan.  When  others 
have  to  barricade  themselves  in  their  houses,  he  can  sleep  out 
in  the  open.  When  a  lion  kills  game,  it  calls  to  Choi  at  night, 
who  goes  out  next  morning  and  finds  the  meat ;  and,  when  he 
kills  a  hippopotamus,  he  leaves  some  of  the  meat  in  the  forest 
for  the  lions.  If  Choi  were  not  of  the  party,  no  one  would 
touch  a  lion's  kill,  for  to  do  this  would  offend  the  lion,  who 
would  then  attack  them  ;  but,  if  Choi  were  with  them,  no  one 
would  hesitate  to  take  the  meat.  If  a  lion  suffered  from  a 
splinter  of  bone  or  portion  of  gristle  becoming  wedged  between 
its  teeth,  it  would  roar  round  the  hut  in  which  Choi  lay,  until 
he  came  out  and  removed  the  source  of  its  discomfort. 

Similar  beliefs  occur  among  other  Dinka  tribes.  The  Ramba 
clan  of  the  Niel  tribe  derives  its  name  from  that  of  an  ancestoi 


706 


DINKA 


who  was  born  as  one  of  twins,  his  fellow  being  a  snake  called 
Got.  Gor  was  placed  in  a  large  pot  of  water,  but  he  soon  died  ; 
so  a  bullock  was  killed,  and  the  body  of  Gor  was  prepared  for 
burial  by  being  smeared  with  dung-  and  wrapped  in  the  skin  of 
the  sacrifice.  This  was  at  Anako,  where  there  is  still  a  shrine 
to  which  sick  people  go  in  order  to  sacrifice.  A  Shish  man 
having  as  totem  the  poisonous  snake  anong  said  that,  though 
this  snake  might  bite  him,  the  wound  would  give  him  little 
trouble,  and  he  would  certainly  not  die,  as  would  men  of  other 
dans. 

The  Niel  Dinka  have  a  number  of  stories  con- 
cerning animal  ancestors  which  refer  to  a  tinie 
when  animals  and  men  who  had  long  been  associ- 
ated together  in  groups  began  to  separate.  When 
each  class  began  to  go  its  own  way,  it  was  thought 
well  that  men  should  know  which  animals  had  been 
their  particular  friends. 

One  of  these  stories  relates  that  once,  long  ago,  a  woman  lay 
sleeping,  when  a  hyaena  ran  up  and  leapt  over  her.  Some  of 
her  people  wanted  to  kill  the  animal,  but  others  restrained 
them,  saying  that  it  was  there  for  some  wise  purpose.  When 
her  child — a  boy — was  born,  he  limped  like  a  hyaena,  so  he  was 
named  Den,  which  is  one  of  the  names  of  the  hyaena,  and  his 
descendants  have  the  hyaena  as  their  totem  animal. 

According  to  the  Niel,  all  Dinka  recognize  two 
kinds  of  lions,  viz.  man-eaters,  which  are  not  con- 
sidered relations  even  by  men  of  the  lion  totem ; 
and  a  cattle-eating  variety,  which  the  lion  men 
believe  to  be  of  one  blood  with  themselves.  The 
lion  people  occasionally  feed  the  cattle-killing 
lions.  They  kill  a  sheep  and  cut  it  into  joints, 
which  are  placed  upon  an  old  bullock  skin,  taken  a 
little  distance  from  the  village,  and  left  there. 
The  clansmen  pray  that  the  lions  may  come  and 
eat ;  but,  if  the  food  has  not  been  taken  after  a  few 
hours,  it  is  eaten  by  the  men  themselves.  Man- 
eaters  are  killed  without  scruple,  when  opportunity 
occurs.  Fox  men  feed  their  totem  animal,  throw- 
ing down  fragments  of  meat  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
village  ;  and  hyjena  men  treat  hyaenas  in  the  same 
way.  It  is  said  that  formerly  it  was  a  common 
practice  to  expose  pieces  of  meat  where  the  totem 
animals  could  find  them,  and  that  sacrifices  were 
offered  to  them  ;  these  customs,  however,  seem 
to  be  observed  no  longer,  though  it  is  alleged  that 
they  might  still  be  performed  in  times  of  great 
difficulty  and  danger. 

The  writer  has  no  record  of  plant  totems  among 
the  Tain  Dinka,  but  there  is  a  tree  called  rual, 
bearing  fruit  supposed  to  resemble  a  woman's 
breast  (the  Sudanese  Arabs  call  it  Abu  shutur  for 
this  reason).  Among  the  Agar  and  Shish  Dinka 
this  tree  is  considered  an  ancestor,  and  is  treated 
with  the  respect  shown  to  other  totems.  Two 
Agar  men,  whose  mothers  had  rual  as  their  totem, 
would  neither  come  into  any  contact  with  the  tree 
nor  use  its  fruit  as  a  ball,  as  other  clans  would  do. 
If  they  disregarded  this  prohibition,  their  eyes 
would  become  inflamed.  Among  the  Shish  Dinka 
there  is  a  clan,  or  perhaps  a  family,  which  claims 
descent  from  a  girl  who  was  twin  to  a  gourd  plant. 
Its  members  do  not  care  to  drink  from  a  newly 
made  gourd-vessel,  and  apparently  do  not  grow 
gourds,  or,  if  they  grow  them  at  all,  do  so  sparingly. 

The  account  given  above,  of  the  reciprocal  favours  conferred 
by  lions  and  by  Choi  of  the  lion  clan,  raises  the  question  whether 
all  folk  of  this  clan  possess  the  powers  exercised  by  Choi  and 
enjoy  the  same  privileges.  The  writer  was  not  able  to  investi- 
gate this  matter  among  the  Tain  Dinka,  but  some  Niel  Dinka 
gave  the  fullest  details  of  how  they  would  leave  flesh  in  the 
jungle  for  their  carnivorous  totem  animals,  without  receiving 
any  corresponding  favours  from  the  latter.  This  suggests  that 
Choi  was  regarded  as  possessing  certain  powers  not  shared  by 
all  his  clansmen,  an  idea -which  is  strengthened  by  information 
given  by  some  Agar  Dinka  from  the  Bahr  el-Ghazal,  one  of 
whom  said  that  his  totem  (which  he  called  an  ancestor)  was  a 
small  bird,  amur,  which  damages  the  corn  crop.  No  doubt 
amur  is  one  of  the  small  birds  called  dura-birds  in  the  Sudan, 
thousands  of  which  infest  the  corn  fields,  where  they  do  much 
damage.  When  these  birds  become  dangerous  to  the  unripe 
crop,  the  informant's  grandfather  would  take  a  head  of  dura, 
some  porridge  made  from  the  old  crop,  and  two  sheep,  one 
black,  the  other  white.  The  white  sheep  was  killed  and  the 
meat  given  to  the  men  of  other  clans ;  the  black  sheep  was 
thrown  into  the  river  with  the  porridge  and  the  unripe  head  of 
dura.     Although  the  sheep  was  not  tied  up,  it  was  said  to  sink 


immediately,  for  the  '  river  people '  *  took  it.  The  man  who 
makes  the  porridge  does  not  taste  it,  nor  does  he  eat  of  the  fleBh 
of  the  sheep  given  to  the  other  clans.  This  ceremony  prevents 
the  birds  from  injuring  the  crop.  It  is  performed  by  one  man 
only,  who  is  head  of  the  clan,  and  who  would  teach  the  pro- 
cedure to  one  of  his  sons,  or  perhaps  to  a  brother. 

Among  the  Dinka  living  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  Khor  Adar  there  are  certain  clans  which  do 
not  trace  their  descent  to  an  animal,  but  to  a 
human  being  possessed  of  super-human  or  non- 
human  qualities. 

Long  ago,  men  and  women  of  the  '  river  people  *  would  some- 
times come  out  of  the  river,  marry,  and  settle  down  in  the 
neighbouring  villages.  The  description  of  the  coming  to  land  of 
one  of  the  '  river  people'  is  curiously  like  the  birth  of  a  child  ; 
the  river  becomes  agitated,  and  the  waters  rise  up  around  a 
human  being  whose  umbilicus  is  joined  by  a  cord  to  a  flat  object 
beneath  the  water.  The  cord  is  cut,  and  bullocks  are  killed  and 
thrown  whole  into  the  river ;  then  the  river  man  or  woman  is 
brought,  with  more  sacrifices,  to  the  village.  Their  descendant* 
should  sacrifice  on  the  bank,  throwing  a  live  cow  into  the  river, 
after  giving  it  a  pot  of  milk  to  drink,  into  which  the  old  and 
important  men  of  the  clan  have  spat.  At  the  present  day  the 
men  of  the  Faiyer  clan  of  the  Denjol  tribe,  who  trace  their 
descent  from  a  river  man,  do  no  more  than  throw  the  head  and 
bowels  of  a  bullock  into  the  river,  cooking  the  meat  and  eating 
it  themselves. 

The  Boweng  clan  of  the  Niel  Dinka  appear  to 
have  the  river  for  their  totem. 

Long  ago  a  party  coming  to  the  river  saw  a  beautiful  girl 
called  Alek  borne  up  by  the  water  and  carried  on  to  the  bank. 
She  accompanied  them  to  the  village,  but,  when  they  tried  to 
touch  her,  she  became  liquid  as  water  ;  so,  taking  bullocks  and 
cows,  the  villagers  escorted  her  back  to  the  river,  where  they 
sacrificed  the  cattle.  As  they  did  this,  the  girl  disappeared 
into  the  river,  taking  a  calf  with  her.  At  the  end  of  the  rains, 
the  Boweng  clan  still  take  a  cow  and  her  calf  and  a  bullock,  and 
kill  the  latter  on  the  river  bank,  while  the  cow  and  calf  are 
thrown  alive  into  the  river,  which  takes  them  away,  so-that  they 
are  never  seen  again. 

There  is  some  evidence  that,  when  a  clan  is  par- 
ticularly strong  in  a  given  locality,  its  members 
tend  to  forget  that  their  totem  is  but  one  among 
many,  so  that  they  may  show  annoyance  if  other 
folk  do  not  treat  it  with  respect. 

The  Shish  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Shambe  said  that  the  first 
people  to  settle  there  were  snake  men,  and  that  for  some  time 
they  formed  the  majority.  After  a  time  the  crocodile  clan  be- 
came powerful,  and,  because  its  members  killed  and  ate  snakes, 
the  men  of  the  now  weakened  snake  clan  left  the  country  and 
went  to  live  among  a  group  of  Aliab  Dinka,  where  they  were 
free  from  the  horrible  odour  of  cooked  snake's  flesh.  More 
recently  a  Shish  family,  belonging  to  a  clan  that  does  not  eat 
the  fish  shur,  left  their  own  tribe  and  went  to  live  at  a  place 
called  Dot,  among  a  group  of  Bor  Dinka  who  also  respect  this 
fish. 

Besides  these  clans  with  more  or  less  typical 
animal  ancestors  (totems),  certain  groups  of  people, 
often  larger  than  a  clan,  revere  particular  objects 
which  they  also  speak  of  as  their  'ancestor.'  A 
stone  called  Madwich,  which  the  Tain  say  fell  from 
the  sky  within  the  past  twenty  years,  is  an  example 
of  this.  The  group  that  reveres  Madwich  is  smaller 
than  a  clan,  for  its  cult  appears  to  be  limited  to 
members  of  a  part  of  the  Pariak  clan  (of  one  of  the 
Tain  tribes),  whose  totem  is  the  snake  {niel), 

A  youth  of  about  twenty,  who  was  named  Madwich  after  the 
meteorite,  said  that  his  father  sacrificed  many  oxen  when  the 
stone  fell,  though  the  rest  of  the  village  did  not  concern  them- 
selves so  deeply,  and  that  at  the  present  time  his  family  alone 
pay  constant  attention  to  Madwich.  The  stone,  which  is  now 
at  Pariak  village,  fell  before  his  birth,  but  after  that  of  his  elder 
brother.  When  it  fell,  '  every  one,'  including  his  parents  and 
even  the  dogs,  except  his  elder  brother,  became  muol.  This 
word  is  applied  to  the  possession  of  a  tiet  by  a  spirit ;  perhaps 
it  has  a  slightly  different  meaning  in  this  instance  ;  at  any  rate, 
the  fact  that  the  informant's  elder  brother  did  not  become 
muol  was  taken  to  show  that  he  was  'a  child  of  the  stone.' 
When  the  stone  fell,  a  few  men  and  many  cattle  died  of  a 
disease  called  abut  puo  (lit.  '  swelling  of  the  heart '),  which  was 
considered  to  be  due  to  the  jok,  and  sacrifices  were  offered  in 
the  usual  way.  The  coming  of  the  meteorite  Madwich  is  said 
to  have  been  prophesied  by  a  tiet  called  Jalang,  who  was  killed 
during  an  Arab  raid  ;  and  the  stone  itself  was  thought  to  have 
the  powers  and  attributes  of  an  animal  ancestor.  Thus  it  might 
make  men  ill  in  order  that  a  sacrifice  might  be  offered,  and  it 
would  communicate  its  wishes  through  a  tiet  in  the  usual  way, 
asking  that  a  bullock  should  be  killed. 

Another  meteorite,  said  to  have  been  found  near  the  Tain 
village  of  Agho,  iB  called  Dek,  and  is  regarded  as  the  '  ancestor ' 
of  the  two  clans  Jakchir  and  Chulil  living  in  the  village,  whence 
have  sprung  settlements  which  in  turn  have  given  rise  to  other 

i  On  the  river  people,  see,  further,  pp.  710' •,  7ll». 


DINKA 


707 


Tillages,  the  inhabitants  of  which  together  constitute  the  Ohiro 
tribe.  All  the  Ohiro  clan  revere  Dek,  though  their  members 
have  animal  totems  of  the  usual  Dinka  type. 

Some  of  the  Bor  Dinka  speak  of  Lerpiu  as  their 
kwar ;  hut  this  is  an  example  which  is  very  far 
from  typical,  for  Lerpiu  is  both  a  spear  which  fell 
from  the  sky  six  generations  ago,  and  a  spirit  im- 
manent in  every  rain-maker  of  the  Bor  tribe,  and  is 
one  of  the  most  powerful  of  their  jok  (see  below, 
§  4).  It  is  clear  that  Lerpiu  is  not  homologous 
with  the  ordinary  Dinka  totems  ;  in  his  spear  form 
he  corresponds  with  the  meteorite  Madwich.  His 
adherents,  the  family  in  whose  succeeding  genera- 
tions he  is  immanent,  have  the  elephant  as  their 
totem. 

Finally,  there  is  evidence  that,  apart  from 
meteorites  and  other  unusual  kwar,  some  of  the 
clans  of  the  Tain  Dinka  have,  or  had,  more  than 
one  totem. 

The  members  of  the  Chiro,  Ngong  Nyang,  and  Pariak  tribes 
consider  the  fish  rechol  an  ancestor,  telling  the  usual  story  that 
their  ancestor  was  born  as  a  twin  of  the  fish,  the  latter  being 
taken  to  the  river,  where  he  instructed  mankind  that,  in  spite 
of  the  relationship  existing  between  them,  they  might  catch 
and  eat  his  descendants.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  rela- 
tionship still  acknowledged  as  existing  between  the  fish  and  the 
members  of  these  tribes  is  but  the  shadow  of  the  normal  totemic 
relationship  that  formerly  existed  ;  nevertheless  the  rings  that 
Apuot  threw  into  the  river  (see  below)  indicate  that,  shadowy 
as  the  relationship  is,  it  is  not  utterly  ignored  in  practice. 

It  will  be  noted  that  all  these  examples  of  un- 
usual '  ancestors '  are  said  to  have  fallen  from  the 
skies.  The  absence  of  stone  in  the  Dinka  country 
(perhaps  this  applies  only  to  those  tribes  living 
near  the  Nile)  would  easily  lead  the  Dinka  to  seek 
a  supernatural  origin  for  any  fragments  they  might 
find,  while  the  importance  of  rain  and  the  rever- 
ence they  pay  to  Dengdit  who  is  above,  as  well  as 
the  striking  appearance  of  a  falling  star,  could 
scarcely  fail  to  suggest  to  them  that  so  strange  an 
object  had  come  from  the  skies.  Once  this  view 
is  entertained,  it  is  but  natural  that  the  marvellous 
objects  should  be  spoken  of  by  the  most  holy  term 
known,  namely  that  applied  to  the  revered  animal 
ancestors  of  the  tribe. 

3.  The  worship  of  Dengdit. — The  Dinka  are  a 
deeply  religious  people.  They  worship  a  high  god, 
Dengdit,  lit.  'Great  Kain,'  sometimes  called  Nya- 
lich,  and  a  host  of  ancestral  spirits  called  jok.  The 
name  Nyalich  is  the  locative  of  a  word  meaning 
'above,'  and,  literally  translated,  signifies  'in  the 
above.'  It  is  not  used,  however,  except  as  a 
synonym  for  Dengdit,  and  the  common  beginning 
of  the  prayers  of  the  Tain  and  Bor  Dinka  is  Nya- 
lich ko  kwar,  '  God  and  our  ancestors. '  This  phrase 
indicates  the  two  main  elements  of  their  religious 
faith  and  their  relative  importance,  for  there  is  no 
doubt  that  Dengdit  (Nyalich)  is  greater  than  the 
jok.  It  was  he  who  created  the  world,  and  estab- 
lished the  order  of  things,  and  it  is  he  who  sends 
the  rain  from  the  '  rain-place '  above,  which  is 
especially  his  home.  Nevertheless,  in  the  ordinary 
affairs  of  life  the  jok  are  appealed  to  far  more  than 
Dengdit,  and  in  some  cases  in  which  the  appeal  is 
nominally  made  to  Dengdit,  its  form  seems  to  imply 
that  he  has  been  confused  with  the  jok.  Among 
the  Tain  tribes  there  is  a  word  ram  or  aram  which 
is  called  out  to  the  new  moon,  and  seems  to  be  an 
expression  of  greeting  or  praise,  or  perhaps  is  used 
to  deprecate  anger. 

It  will  be  convenient  to  consider  the  worship  of 
Dengdit  and  the  cult  of  the  jok  separately,  though 
it  must  be  realized  that  they  constantly  touch,  and 
even  overlap,  each  other.  The  Southern  Dinka  (to 
whom  the  following  specially  refers)  do  not  appear 
to  use  set  forms  of  prayer,  but  seem  to  ask  in  ordi- 
nary simple  sentences  that  their  immediate  want 
may  be  granted.  They  also  have  a  number  of  hymns 
which  are  sung  when  an  ox  is  slaughtered  to  avert 
drought  or  sickness  ;  but,  as  Mr.  Shaw  informed  the 
writer,  men  sing  them  when  doing  light  work,  and 


lately  during  a  severe  thunderstorm  every  one 
joined  in  lustily  to  appease  the  elements.  They 
also  burst  into  one  of  these  songs  when  bidding 
farewell  to  the  Sirdar  who  visited  them  recently. 
The  following  songs  collected  and  translated  by 
Mr.  Shaw  were  composed  by  the  tiet  Wal  of  Bang 
village,  who  asserts  that  his  spirit  is  Deng,  i.e. 
Dengdit  (see  below,  §  4).  It  must  be  noted  that  in 
Dinka  hymns  Dengdit  habitually  speaks  of  men  as 
ants  (aichuk). 

Deng  Wa  ka  loin  te  lar  ror 

Deng  Wa  ka  loin  te  lar  ror 

Bainh  achi  a  lalech 

Muka  Wa  apuoth  a  muk  we  lienkwa 

JUuka  Deng  apuoth  a  muk  we  lienkwa. 

'  Father  Rain  falls  into  a  solitary  place. 

Father  Rain  falls  into  a  solitary  place. 

The  Lord  was  in  untrodden  ground. 

Hold  the  Father  well,  He  holds  our  few  souls. 

Hold  the  Rain  well,  He  holds  our  few  souls.' 
In  a  variant  of  this  hymn  '  Creator '  is  substi- 
tuted for  '  Rain '  in  the  second  and  fourth  lines. 
In  the  next  two  hymns  it  is  clearly  the  Creator 
who  speaks. 

Aichungdia  gau  gut  ko  thain  ye  thar 
Aichwngdia  gau  gut  ko  thain  yethar 
Cha  gwobdia  ye  ran 
Cha  gwobdia  yen  e  nhyor  e  gau-o. 
'  My  ant  hoes  the  marsh  grass  and  restB  hand  on  hip. 
My  ant  hoes  the  marsh  grass  and  rests  hand  on  hip. 
Have  I  not  given  of  my  substance  to  man  ? 
Have  I  not  given  of  my  substance  to  the  spikes  of  the 
marsh  grass,  alas  t ' 

Ye  yenga  bidoM 

y  'aichung  e  wang  k'aichung  e  rie 

Yenga  bi  nong  bail 

Man  aichung  nhom 

Ye  yenga  bi  dol  1 

Y 'aichung  e  wang  k'aichung  e  rie 

Aichuok  a  lone  Deng  nhom 

Ko  bainh  e  rec  aken  tuol 

Chamku  yai 

Bainhdan  e  rab  aken  tuol 

Chamku  yai. 

'Who  will  laugh? 

The  cattle-ant  and  the  ant  of  the  boat  (i.e.  the  Cattle 

Dinka  and  the  Tain  Dinka). 
Who  will  possess  a  homestead  ? 
Unite  the  ants  to  a  head. 
Who  will  laugh? 

The  cattle-ant  and  the  ant  of  the  boat. 
The  ants  have  gone  to  Rain  (as  their)  head 
And  the  Fish-lord  has  not  appeared. 
Let  us  worship. 

Our  Dura-lord  has  not  appeared. 
Let  us  worship.' 

The  majority  of  Dinka  have  no  legends  of  the 
origin  of  Dengdit,  but  they  say  that  long  ago  he 
became  angry  with  his  wife  Abuk,  and  in  his 
wrath  sent  the  bird  atoich  to  sever  the  path  be- 
tween heaven  and  earth  which  had  existed  till 
then.  In  this  account,  as  well  as  in  one  obtained 
by  Major  S.  Lyle  Cummins  from  the  Nok  Dinka 
of  the  Bahr  el-Ghazal  Province  (JAI  xxxiv.  [1904] 
157-158),  Dengdit  figures  as  a  god,  without  begin- 
ning and  with  no  expected  end ;  but  among  the 
Niel  Dinka  he  appears  as  a  less  remote  being  who 
at  one  time  ruled  his  tribe  in  human  guise,  and  so 
approximates  to  the  superhuman  ancestors  de- 
scribed in  the  section  on  totemism  (above,  §  2).  The 
Adero  clan  of  the  Niel  Dinka  have  the  rain  (deng) 
as  their  totem,  the  reason  being  given  as  follows  : 

The  first  ancestor  of  the  clan  appeared  from  the  sky  as  a 
young  woman  pregnant  with  her  first  child.  The  people 
reverentially  formed  a  circle  round  her,  killed  bullocks,  and 
then  rubbed  her  from  head  to  foot  with  the  belly  fat.  Next 
they  built  a  hut  for  her,  but  were  so  frightened  that  it  was  not 
like'  other  lukl,  for  the  door  was  omitted,  or  in  some  other  way 
it  waB  made  difficult  for  her  to  leave  it.  In  about  a  month  her 
child  was  born,  yet  no  one  came  to  help  her.  Then  she  called 
to  the  people,  who  brought  one  white  cow,  one  spotted  cow, 
and  one  bullock  :  she  told  them  to  sacrifice  these  and  then  to 
come  back  to  her.  They  found  her  nursing  a  marvellous  babe 
with  teeth  like  an  adult,  and  whose  tears  were  blood.  Then  the 
mother  said  to  them  :  '  This  is  your  bain,  look  after  him  well, 
for  I  can  stay  with  you  no  longer.'  As  she  spoke,  the  rain  came 
down  in  torrents,  and  therefore  the  boy  was  called  Deng  (Rain) 
or  Dengdit  (Great  Rain).  He  ruled  them  for  a  long  time,  and, 
when  he  was  very  old,  disappeared  in  a  great  storm. 


708 


DINKA 


Offerings  are  made  to  Dengdit  at  certain  shrines 
— perhaps  they  might  be  called  temples — which 
seem  to  be  scattered  all  over  the  Dinka  territory. 
Most  Dinka  tribes  have  one  shrine  in  their  territory, 
and  this  is  certainly  the  case  among  the  Shish  and 
Agar.  Probably  these  differ  little  in  appearance 
from  the  shrine  of  Lerpiu  served  by  Biyordit  (see 
below,  §  5).  It  is  true  that  neither  Shish  nor  Agar 
made  any  mention  of  the  existence  of  an  akoi  bush 
near  the  shrine,  but  perhaps  too  much  stress  should 
not  be  laid  on  this  negative  evidence,  and  a  photo- 
graph of  the  great  shrine  at  Luang  Deng  shows 
that  this  consists  of  three  ordinary  looking  tukl. 
According  to  the  Agar  informants,  one  bain  at 
Luong  Ajok  near  Rurnbek  is  in  charge  of  a  hut 
bigger  than  an  ordinary  tukl  which  is  surrounded 
by  a  fence.  This  is  called  luak  (not  to  be  confused 
with  a  cattle  luak) ;  it  is  not  a  tomb,  nor  has  any 
one  been  buried  near  it.  The  door  is  always  shut, 
and  may  not  be  opened  even  by  the  bain  (the  high 
priest  of  the  shrine  and  the  rain-maker  of  the  tribe) 
unless  a  sacrifice  is  made  and  milk  is  spilt  in  front 
of  the  door.  In  the  shrine  at  Luong  Ajok  there 
are  stools  of  copper  and  brass,  shields,  spears, 
sticks  of  rhinoceros  horn,  and  a  number  of  clay 
pots.  All  these  things  belong  to  Dengdit,  who 
long  ago  came  to  earth  bringing  them  with  him. 
One  morning  the  people  found  the  luak  built,  and 
the  stools  and  other  things  inside  it,  and  decided 
that  Dengdit  alone  could  have  done  this,  and  that 
it  was  his  place.  Dengdit  still  lives  in  this  shrine. 
The  Shish  say  that  there  is  a  hut  called  luak  sacred 
to  Dengdit  at  Lau,  within  which  are  certain  sacred 
spears  and  an  iron  rod,  and  a  pot  full  of  oil  hangs 
from  the  roof ;  Dengdit  is  always  there.  The  great 
ancestral  rain-making  ceremony  of  each  tribe  takes 
place  at  one  of  these  shrines,  as  does  the  harvest 
ceremony  held  after  the  cutting  of  the  dura  ;  here, 
too,  the  Agar  install  their  new  rain-maker. 

The  shrine  at  Luang  Dengi  is  one  of  the  holiest  existing 
among  the  Dinka,  who  visit  it  in  large  numbers.  One  of  the 
three  tukl  is  the  house  of  Dengdit.  The  door  is  always  kept 
shut,  its  guardians  being  certain  men  (and  women  ?)  who  are 
regarded  as  being  especially  the  servants  of  Dengdit.  Only 
they  may  enter  the  shrine,  but  a  man  desirous  of  offspring 
may  take  cattle  and  offer  them  to  Dengdit,  asking  that  the 
desire  of  his  heart  may  be  granted.  The  door  of  the  shrine  is 
opened  when  one  of  the  animals  brought  for  Dengdit  is 
slaughtered,  and,  looking  in  through  the  doorway,  the  wor- 
shipper sees  in  the  darkness  of  the  shrine,  in  spirit  form,  the 
shifting  shapes  of  men  and  animals  and  even  of  abstract  qualities 
— happiness,  hunger,  satisfaction,  cattle-sickness — and  among 
them  he  may  see  the  eyes  and  umbilicus  of  a  man.  No  sacrifice 
iB  made  until  Dengdit  has  sent  a  dream  to  the  keeper  of  the 
shrine  instructing  him  to  accept  the  offering,  so  that  worshippers 
are  nearly  always  kept  waiting  for  a  few  days.  It  is  very  rare 
for  a  sacrifice  to  be  refused  ;  but,  if  a  man  be  dismissed  without 
being  allowed  to  sacrifice,  he  will  soon  die,  or  disease  will  attack 
his  people.  As  the  worshipper  approaches,  he  is  accompanied 
by  two  servants  of  the  shrine,  one  on  either  side.  A  spear 
specially  kept  for  the  purpose  is  used  for  killing  the  victim,  and 
the  spirit  of  the  animal  goes  to  join  the  other  spirits  in  the 
shrine.2  Before  the  worshipper  leaves  the  shrine,  one  of  the 
servants  of  Dengdit  takes  dust  from  the  holy  precincts,  and, 
mixing  it  with  oil,  rubs  it  over  the  body  of  the  worshipper. 
Sometimes  a  material  object  such  as  a  spear  may  be  given  to  the 
man  as  a  sign  of  favour  and  a  guarantee  that  he  will  obtain  his 
wish.  Offerings  such  as  pieces  of  tobacco  may  be  thrown  upon 
a  low  mound  of  ashes  which  has  arisen  in  front  of  the  shrine 
from  the  cooking  of  many  sacrifices.  The  contents  of  the  large 
intestine  of  the  victim  are  scattered  about  and  over  this  mound, 
and  near  it  the  worshippers  thrust  the  branch  of  a  tree  called 
akoch  into  the  ground.  It  did  not  appear  that  any  attention 
was  paid  to  the  fate  of  this  branch,  though  it  was  said  that  it 
might  take  root  and  grow. 

Among  the  Shish,  certain  men  who  lived  long 
ago  were  spoken  of  as  'the  sons  of  Dengdit,' 
though  this  expression  must  not  be  considered  to 
imply  any  physical  relationship  ;  it  seems  that  the 

1  According  to  prevailing  views,  this  shrine  is  situated  in  Nuer 
territory,  though  it  was  formerly  held  by  Dinka,  and  there  are 
Dinka  priests  at  the  shrine.  The  writer  believes  the  distinction 
drawn  between  Dinka  and  -Nuer  to  be  erroneous,  and  that  the 
Nuer  are  simply  a  tribe  of  Dinka  differing  no  more  from  other 
admittedly  Dinka  tribes  than  these  do  among  themselves. 

2  In  answer  to  a  question  it  was  said  that,  if  a  man  died  near 
a  shrine-  bis  spirit  would  go  there,  but  not  if  he  died  far  off. 


Shish  considered  these  '  sons  '  as  spirits  who  came 
from  above  to  possess  certain  men  who  became 
known  by  their  names — Walkerijok,  Majush, 
Mabor,  and  Malan.  Each  of  them  is  regarded  as 
the  ancestor  of  one  of  the  Shish  clans  and  has 
become  a  powerful  jok  of  the  usual  type  (for  wor- 
ship at  their  graves,  see  §  4). 

4.  The  worship  of  the  dead.  —  Every  human 
being  has  within  him  two  souls.  The  atiep,  which 
leaves  the  body  in  sleep  and  whose  wanderings  are 
the  common  source  of  dreams,  resembles,  or  per- 
haps may  take  the  form  of,  the  shadow.  The 
second  '  soul '  is  by  no  means  so  well  defined  as  the 
atiep ;  it  is  sometimes  called  rol,  and  sometimes 
we.  The  writer  could  not  learn  anything  definite 
about  the  rol  during  life  ;  it  may  be  connected  with 
the  vegetative  functions  of  the  body,  but  after 
death  it  remains  with  the  body  in  the  grave.  In 
this  article  it  is  the  atiep  that  is  meant  whenever 
the  word  '  spirit '  is  used  to  refer  to  the  spirit  of  a 
dead  man.  The  atiep  of  a  father,  mother,  or  an- 
cestor may  at  any  time  ask  for  food  in  a  dream. 
A  man  will  then  take  dura  flour  and  mix  it  with 
fat  in  a  little  pot  which  he  places  in  a  corner  of 
his  hut,  where  it  is  left  until  the  evening,  when  he 
may  eat  it  or  even  share  it  with  any  one  belonging 
to  his  clan,  but  with  no  one  else  (Tain).  If  food 
were  not  provided,  the  atiep  might,  and  probably 
would,  make  the  dreamer  or  his  wife  and  children 
ill.  It  was  stated  everywhere  that  the  customs 
observed  after  a  death,  especially  the  death  feasts, 
were  held  to  propitiate  the  atiep  of  the  deceased  and 
to  prevent  it  from  sending  sickness  or  misfortune  on 
the  survivors.  Sometimes  the  spirit  of  a  person 
recently  dead  is  spoken  of  as  jok,  but  this  term  is 
generally  reserved  for  the  spirits  of  long  dead  and 
powerful  ancestors.  Thus  the  spirit  of  the  founder 
of  any  clan  is  a  jok,  and  the  spirit  of  the  animal 
ancestor  is  a  specially  powerful  jok.  The  matter 
was  summed  up  by  a  Tain  man  as  follows  :  '  The 
atiep  of  my  animal  [ancestor]  is  a  jok,  the  atiep  of 
my  mother  is  a  human  spirit  (atiep) ;  [the  spirit  of] 
my  mother  is  also  a  jok,  but  [the  spirit  of]  my 
animal  [ancestor]  is  a  jorndit  (a  very  great  jok), 
and  would  be  angry  if  food  for  it  and  my  mother's 
jok  were  put  together.'  Although  the  jok  may 
send  sickness,  death,  and  misfortune,  when  an- 
noyed or  neglected,  they  are  the  guardian  spirits 
of  the  house  and  the  clan,  taking  constant  interest 
in  the  doings  of  their  descendants,  and  being  ever 
ready  to  help  them.  From  this  point  of  view  there 
is  a  certain  amount  of  confusion  between  the  atiep 
of  the  recent  dead  and  the  jok  of  long  dead  and 
powerful  ancestors.  It  seems  that,  although  the 
former  are  not  specially  invoked  for  aid  in  difficul- 
ties, they  are  considered  to  take  an  active  interest 
in  their  descendants,  and  probably  all  that  is  said 
concerning  the  lovingkindness  and  power  of  the  jok 
applies  in  a  lesser  degree  to  the  atiep. 

The  jok  know  when  a  child  is  born,  and  protect 
it  from  the  very  beginning,  though  a  man  does  not 
tell  his  child  about  the  jok  until  it  is  well  grown, 
perhaps  not  till  about  the  age  of  ten.  The  jok  on 
both  sides  of  the  family  protect  the  child,  coming 
to  its  assistance  in  any  sudden  danger.  In  adult 
life,  when  invoking  the  jok  at  a  time  of  stress,  a 
man  calls  upon  the  jok  of  his  ancestors,  regardless 
whether  the  appeal  be  to  the  spirits  of  his  own  or 
his  mother's  clan.  Thus,  when  harpooning  a  hippo- 
potamus, the  word  usually  spoken  is  jongawa,  'O 
jok  of  my  ancestors  ! '  The  jok  hear  the  invocation 
and  come  to  their  descendant's  assistance,  entering 
his  body  and  giving  strength  to  his  arms,  and  leav- 
ing him  only  when  the  spear  has  been  flung  and 
danger  is  over,  for  a  man's  jok  are  ever  near  him 
in  enterprise  or  peril.  Sometimes  the  appeal  is 
made  specially  to  the  jok  in  animal  form.  Thus 
Bol,  a  man  of  the  Mariak  clan  of  the  Ngong  Nyang 


DINKA 


709 


tribe?,  when  about  to  cast  Iris  harpoon  at  a  hippo- 
potamus, would  say  :  Ayub  lil  ajong  e  got  Mariak 
e  jongdiena  niel  abwordie,  'Strike,  O  spirit  of  my 
clan,  my  spirit  the  snake  !' 

Men  and  women  who  are  able  to  see  and  to  com- 
municate with  the  spirits  (atiep  a,ud  jok)  are  called 
tiet.  Their  power  is  attributed  to  a  spirit,  always, 
we  believe,  an  ancestral  spirit,  that  is  immanent  in 
the  tiet ;  and,  as  the  spirit  on  the  death  of  the  tiet 
will  generally  take  up  its  residence  in  the  body  of 
a  near  relative,  the  office  tends  to  become  heredi- 
tary. Often  a  tiet  will  explain  to  a  relative  that, 
after  his  or  her  death,  the  spirit  will  come  to  him  ; 
and  a  change  of  manner,  trembling  fits,  and  periods 
of  unconsciousness  are  regarded  as  signs  that  the 
spirit  has  taken  up  its  new  abode.  The  powers  of 
the  tiet  are  most  commonly  directed  to  discover 
what  should  be  done  in  cases  of  sickness,  i.e.  he 
indicates  what  jok  is  responsible  for  the  illness,  and 
what  must  be  done  in  order  that  the  patient  may 
get  well ;  hut  he  also  gives  advice  concerning  lost 
cattle  and  other  accidents  of  daily  life.  The 
amount  of  influence  exerted  by  the  tiet  varies 
enormously. 

The  tiet  of  a  Malek  village  was  an  old  woman  of  whom  it  was 
openly  said  that  she  wag  little  good.  On  the  other  hand,  Wal, 
an  Aliab  Dinka  living  in  the  village  of  Bang,  exercises  enormous 
influence  not  limited  to  his  fellow-tribesmen  ;  for,  although  his 
spirit  only  came  to  him  in  1907,  Bari  and  Nuer  alike  come  to 
consult  him  and  pay  the  strictest  attention  to  his  commands. 
Wal  is  a  man  of  about  fifty,  differing  in  no  obvious  external  char- 
acter from  his  fellows,  though  deference  is  shown  him  in  that, 
however  dense  the  crowd  round  him,  he  is  never  jostled.  Wal 
says  that  his  spirit  is  Deng,  which  appears  in  one  aspect  at 
least  to  be  identical  with  Dengdit,  and  at  the  present  time  he 
is  certainly  the  most  important  factor  in  the  spiritual  life  of  the 
Aliab  and  neighbouring  tribes.  Some  men  of  the  Ohiro  tribe 
said  that,  if  another  stone  like  Madwich  (see  above,  §  z)  were  to 
fall  from  the  sky,  it  would  be  called  Deng,  because  the  spirit 
Deng  had  come  to  the  tiet  Wal  in  Bang  village.  Wal  is  most 
anxious  to  make  clear  his  adhesion  to  the  Government,  and 
even  goes  so  far  aa  to  state  that  his  spirit  is  '  red  '  (as  Europeans 
are)  and  came  from  Khartum,  which  all  the  black  tribes  regard 
as  the  home  of  the  white  man.  He  is  certainly  opposed  to 
bloodshed,  and  has  lately  condemned  the  participators  in  a  quite 
insignificant  brawl,  in  which  but  little  blood  flowed,  to  an 
elaborate  ceremony  of  atonement,  the  essential  part  of  which 
is  that  two  goats  are  killed,  the  flesh  of  one  being  eaten,  while 
the  other  is  cast  into  the  bush.  Wal  asserts  that  this  is  not  a 
revival  of  an  old  custom,  but  a  new  form  of  sacrifice  dictated  by 
his  spirit ;  and  this  was  certainly  the  opinion  of  those  with  whom 
the  writer  discussed  the  subject. 

Although  Mitterrutzner  [Die  Dinka-Sprache  in 
Central -Africa,  Brixen,  1866)  accepts  the  view 
adopted  by  the  early  missionaries,  that  the  wordjoi 
can  be  adequately  rendered  by  '  Satan '  or  '  der  feu- 
fel '  {op.  cit.  esp.  p.  57),  this  is  incorrect,  and  the  re- 
lation of  the  jok  to  sickness  and  death  is  in  outline 
somewhat  as  follows.  The  spirits  of  the  old  and 
mighty  dead  (jok)  and  of  the  recent  dead  (atiep)  exist 
in  and  around  the  villages  in  which  their  descend- 
ants live.  Jok  are  more  powerful  and  energetic  than 
atiep,  and  sometimes  have  special  shrines  built  for 
them.  They  are  also  thought  to  have  their  habitat 
in  the  earth  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of 
these  shrines.  Atiep  are  at  their  strongest  immedi- 
ately after  death,  and,  although  funeral  feasts  are 
held  for  no  other  reason  than  to  propitiate  them 
lest  they  should  cause .  sickness  and  death,  they 
become  gradually  weaker,  and  in  a  very  few  genera- 
tions may  safely  be  forgotten.  Jok,  on  the  other 
hand,  retain  their  strength  and  energy,  and  require 
to  be  freely  propitiated  by  sacrifices.  Nor  are  the 
sacrifices  offered  to  them  on  stated  occasions  suffi- 
cient. They  accept  these,  but  also  make  known 
their  wants  by  appearing  to  their  descendants  in 
dreams,  and  demanding  that  a  bullock  or  other 
animal  shall  be  killed  ;  or  they  may  appear  to  a  tiet 
and  command  him  to  deliver  their  message.  If  their 
demands  are  disregarded,  they  send  sickness  or  bad 
luck,  and  matters  can  be  remedied  only  by  sacrifice. 
There  may  be  no  preliminary  dream  or  vision  before 
the  jok  sends  sickness ;  in  fact,  the  routine  treat- 
ment of  all  sickness  is  to  make  offerings  to  the  jok 


(or  Dengdit,  when  he  and  the  jok  are  confused)  in 
the  hope  that  they  will  remove  the  sickness  for 
which  they  are  held  responsible.  So,  when  the 
illness  runs  a  fatal  course,  it  is  the  jok  who  are  con- 
sidered responsible  for  the  death.  The  following 
account  given  by  the  Shish  shows  how  the  sacrifice 
to  the  jok  is  conducted  : — 

When  a  man  is  ill,  a  bullock  or  one  or  more  sheep  or  goats  are 
killed  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  jok.  The  animal  or  animals  should 
be  provided  by  a  near  relative,  and  should  be  killed  by  a  married 
man  with  children,  preferably  the  father  of  a  large  family. 
Some  of  the  meat  is  left  over  night  in  the  house  of  the  sick  man, 
for  the  jok.  In  the  morning  it  is  brought  out  and  eaten  by  the 
clansfolk,  but  the  fat  is  collected  In  a  pot,  and  again  left  in  the 
house,  for  one  night,  for  the  jok.  Next  day  this  is  cooked  by  the 
old  women,  who  eat  it  with  the  old  men.  The  blood  of  the 
sacrifice  is  left  to  dry  on  the  ground,  and  is  afterwards  buried 
in  front  of  the  house  near  the  place  where  the  animal  was  killed. 

Even  childlessness  may  be  attributed  to  the  dis- 
pleasure of  the  jok,  and  in  those  cases  in  which  the 
husband  does  not  attribute  this  to  his  own  impo- 
tence a  tiet  may  be  consulted.  The  tiet  often  says  : 
'  Give  more  cows  to  your  father-in-law,'  the  idea 
being  that  this  will  appease  the  jok  of  the  wife's 
family,  who,  the  tiet  can  see,  are  angry.  Or  the 
tiet  may  prescribe  an  offering  to  the  jok  to  be  made 
by  the  other  side  of  the  family,  for  the  jok  of  the 
husband's  family  may  be  angry  if  the  woman's 
brothers  have  been  sneering  at  her  husband  for  not 
begetting  children.  Incest  angers  the  jok  and  thus 
causes  barrenness  ;  and  a  girl  guilty  of  this  offence 
will  have  no  children,  even  should  she  marry,  until 
she  has  owned  her  sin,  when  her  lover  will  be  forced 
to  provide  a  bullock  to  be  sacrificed  in  atonement. 
The  youth's  father  kills  the  bullock,  and  the  girl's 
father  takes  some  of  the  contents  of  the  large  in- 
testine and  smears  it  on  his  daughter's  abdomen 
and  that  of  her  partner,  thus  removing  the  taint  of 
sin  and  rendering  her  capable  of  bearing  children. 

Shrines  raised  to  ancestral  spirits  fall  into  two 
classes  :  (1)  grave  shrines,  and  (2)  shrines  erected 
by  order  of  a  spirit  (jok  or  atiep),  or  on  account  of 
the  appearance  of  a  spirit  in  a  dream,  or  built  to 
provide  a  new  home  for  a  spirit.  Grave  shrines  do 
not  appear  to  be  common,  though  the  writer  has 
records  of  the  graves  of  the  founders  of  four  of  the 
Shish  clans  that  have  become  shrines.  These  are 
the  graves  of  the  so-called  '  sons  of  Dengdit '  already 
referred  to.  These  four  men  are  to  some  extent  re- 
garded as  culture  heroes,  for  they  taught  men  how 
to  grow  dura  and  to  fish.  It  is  said  that  formerly 
huts  were  built  over  their  graves ;  these  have  de- 
cayed, but  even  now  a  ceremony  is  held  at  each 
grave  after  the  dura  is  cut.  In  every  case,  only 
the  people  descended  from  the  founder  take  part  in 
this,  though  their  wives,  who  of  necessity  belong  to 
other  clans,  accompany  them.  There  is  no  resident 
guardian  at  any  of  the  shrines,  but  at  the  yearly 
sacrifice  one  man,  in  whom  the  ancestral  spirit  is 
immanent,  kills  a  sheep  or  a  bull,  and  smears  its 
blood  and  the  contents  of  the  large  intestine  upon 
the  grave,  before  the  assembled  descendants  of  the 
hero.  The  flesh  is  boiled,'all  eat  thereof,  and  great 
care  is  taken  not  to  break  the  bones,  which  are 
thrown  into  the  river.  Shrines  of  the  second  class 
appear  to  be  found  in  all  Dinka  villages.  The 
worship  at  one  of  them  in  the  Shilluk  village  of 
Tonga  near  the  Shilluk-Dinka  boundary  is  especi- 
ally interesting,  because  it  clearly  indicates  the 
hereditary  nature  of  the  priesthood  that  these 
shrines  call  into  existence,  and  also  because  it  shows 
that  the  jok  on  the  maternal  side  are  regarded  with 
the  same  awe  and  affection  as  those  of  a  man's  own 
clan.  The  shrine  is  within  the  yard  of  an  ordin- 
ary Shilluk  homestead.  It  consists  of  a  few  long, 
roughly  trimmed  sticks  thrust  into  the  ground,  from 
which  are  hung  a  number  of  beads,  small  gourds, 
snuff-boxes,  and  fragments  of  sheep  bones.  On 
the  ground  is  a  heap  of  ashes,  the  remains  of  the 
I  fires  at  which  sacrifices  have  been  cooked,  and  frag- 


710 


DINKA 


ments  of  the  skulls  of  sheep  killed  at  the  shrine. 
By  the  side  of  the  ashes  there  is  a  faggot  of  sticks 
placed  upright,  supporting  a  gourd  in  which  food 
had  once  been  placed. 

The  shrine  is  served  by  one  Agwer,  whose  grandmother,  a 
Dinka,  was  made  ill  by  an  ancestral  spirit,  Deng,1  in  order  that 
offerings  should  be  made  to  him.  As  the  offerings  accumulated, 
a  shrine  came  into  existence ;  in  fact,  a  tiet  seems  to  have 
ascertained  that  Deng  wished  his  descendants  to  make  repeated 
sacrifices  to  him  at  Tonga.  At  the  present  day  offerings  are 
made  frequently  by  sick  folk,  descendants  of  Deng,  and  a 
ceremony  is  said  to  be  held  at  the  beginning  of  every  rainy 
season. 

Another  shrine,  existing  at  the  Chiro  village  of 
Malek,  consists  of  the  trunk  of  a  small  tree  thrust 
into  the  ground ;  the  main  branches  have  been 
broken  off  short,  and  part  of  the  vertebral  column 
and  horns  of  a  goat  have  been  attached  to  them. 
There  are  also  several  pieces  of  rope,  of  the  kind 
attached  to  hippopotamus  harpoons,  and  several 
small  gourds,  while  a  number  of  fragments  of 
hippopotamus  bones  lie  at  the  foot  of  the  post. 
The  origin  of  this  shrine  is  as  follows. 

About  three  years  ago  the  children  of  Apuot,  the  bain  of  the 
village,  sickened,  but  it  was  not  until  they  had  been  ill  for 
about  four  months  that  the  jok  of  Balit,  the  ancestor  who  sent 
the  sickness,  appeared  to  the  tiet  in  a  dream  and  demanded 
that  a  goat  should  be  given  him.  The  tiet  told  Apuot  to  raise 
up  a  post  and  to  kill  a  fat  he-goat.  The  pose  was  prepared, 
a  hole  was  dug,  the  goat's  throat  was  cut,  and  the  blood  and 
contents  of  the  gut  were  collected  and  buried  in  the  hole.  Then 
the  post  was  thrust  into  the  centre  of  the  hole,  and  earth  was 
thrown  in  and  pressed  down.  The  meat  was  cut  into  pieces, 
boiled,  and  eaten.  The  bones  were  not  broken,  but  were 
placed  on  the  ground  round  the  post  and  left  there  for  a 
month,  after  which  all  were  thrown  into  the  river,  except  the 
skull  and  backbone,  which  were  put  upon  the  post.  The  tiet 
was  given  the  skin.  At  the  time  of  the  sacrifice  Apuot  threw 
four  small  pieces  of  meat  in  four  directions,  apparently  towards 
the  cardinal  points,  and  then  placed  them  on  the  ground 
round  the  stick,  saying:  'O  my  grandfather,  I  have  made  a 
sacrifice  for  you,  do  not  let  my  children  be  sick  any  more.' 
Apuot  himself  carried  the  bones  to  the  river,  and  at  the  same 
time  threw  into  the  water  a  small  iron  bracelet  which  he  took 
from  the  arm  of  one  of  the  sick  children.  These  things  were 
cast  into  the  river  because  Ran,  the  father  of  Balit,  was  twin 
with  the  fish  rechol,  for  whom  the  things  were  intended.  The 
hippopotamus  bones  at  the  foot  of  the  post  were  placed  there 
by  a  brother  of  Apuot,  after  he  had  speared  one  of  these 
animals.  He  did  this  in  order  that  the  spirit  of  his  ancestor 
might  help  him  to  kill  other  hippopotami.  Tbe  ground  round 
and  under  this  post  is  in  a  special  sense  the  habitation  of  the 
iok,  and,  even  if  the  sickness  had  not  occurred,  it  would  still 
have  been  necessary  to  prepare  a  habitation  for  the  jok,  where 
men  might  come  to  invoke  their  assistance  before  going  fishing 
or  hippopotamus-hunting,  or  before  starting  on  a  journey. 
In  the  last  event  the  traveller  puts  his  right  hand  flat  on  the 
ground  near  the  post,  and  says :  '  Grandfather,  I  am  going  away, 
take  care  of  me,  do  not  let  me  be  sick.'  Before  going  fishing 
or  hippopotamus- hunting,  a  man  takes  his  harpoons  to  the  wife 
of  the  bain,  who  rubs  them  with  oil  made  from  hippopotamus 
fat,  and  pours  some  of  the  oil  on  the  ground  at  the  foot  of  the 
post. 

Another  form  of  shrine,  called  bUor,  is  found  in 
the  Tain  villages  near  Bor.  The  construction  of 
the  buor  is  very  simple.  No  chamber  is  made ; 
a  hole  about  a  foot  deep  is  dug  and  filled  up  with 
mud,  in  which  the  horns  are  fixed,  for  only  the 
horns,  and  not  the  skull,  are  used. 

One  of  these  shrines  was  raised  by  Der  in  his  new  village  of 
Arek  for  the  atiep  of  his  father  Anet,  to  live  in  *just  as  a 
house,'  for  the  spirit  knows  of  the  wanderings  of  its  people  and 
moves  with  them.  This  was  done  at  the  instance  of  a  tiet,  who 
said  that,  if  this  were  neglected,  Der  and  his  children  would 
sicken,  and  perhaps  die.  The  shrine  itself  consists  of  a  mound 
of  mud,  at  one  end  of  which  are  fixed  the  horns  of  a  bullock, 
while  in  front  of  this  there  is  one  of  the  pickets  to  which  cattle 
are  commonly  tethered.2  The  bullock  providing  the  horns 
was  sacrificed  by  Der,  who  explained  aloud  that  he  was  making 
a  place  for  the  atiep  of  his  father  Anet.  The  bullock  was  killed 
by  having  a  spear  plunged  into  its  heart,  and  small  pieces  of  all 
the  organs  and  parts  of  the  animal  were  scattered  on  the  ground 
for  the  spirits  of  the  dead.    At  each  new  moon  some  dura,  a 


1  Deng  is  a  common  Dinka  name,  and  must  not  be  confused 
with  Deng,  the  spirit  of  the  tiet  Wal  (above,  p.  709*1),  or  with 
Dengdit. 

2  The  whole  structure  presents  a  certain  resemblance  to  a 
bullock  sunk  in  the  earth,  so  that  only  the  back  projects  ;  but 
the  writer  could  not  learn  that  this  resemblance  was  inten- 
tional, though  a  Dinka  whom  he  met  at  Omdurman,  where  he 
had  lived  for  a  long  time,  said  that  in  his  country  mud  repre- 
sentations of  cattle  were  erected  over  the  graves  of  powerful 
men. 


few  drops  of  new  milk,  and  a  little  butter,  are  placed  upon  the 
shrine  at  sunset.  The  shrine  is  repaired  whenever  necessary, 
without  sacrifice  or  any  ceremony. 

Buor  are  found  in  all  the  Tain  and  in  some,  at 
least,  of  the  Bor  villages,  but  usually  they  do  not 
resemble  the  back  of  a  bullock,  the  mud  being 
built  into  a  more  or  less  circular  mound  flattened 
above.  A  stick  or  young  sapling,  6  or  8  ft.  tall,  is 
thrust  into  the  ground  near  the  Horns,  and  a  cattle- 
rope  is  hung  from  this.  Among  the  Tain  Dinka 
the  sons  of  a  dead  man  will  procure  a  bullock  and 
build  a  buor  whenever  possible,  the  widow  making 
the  mud  mound,  in  which  the  sons  plant  the  horns 
of  the  bullock.  This  is  done  not  only  to  propitiate 
the  spirit  of  the  dead,  but  as  a  resting-place  for  his 
spirit  [atiep).  There  is  often  the  greatest  confu- 
sion as  to  whether  these  bitor  are  built  for  Dengdit 
or  for  the  jok ;  in  fact,  the  two  are  often  spoken 
of  and  treated  as  if  they  were  identical.  As  an 
example  of  this  confusion,  reference  may  be  made 
to  a  bUor  at  Arek  village  meant  to  secure  the  help 
of  the  jok  in  fishing  and  in  harpooning  hippopotami. 
When  a  fishing  or  hunting  party  is  about  to  start, 
they  take  some  dura,  dip  the  grains  in  a  bowl  of 
water,  roast  them,  and,  when  cold,  scatter  them 
upon  and  around  the  buor.  In  spite  of  this,  the 
buor  is  often  said  to  belong  to  Dengdit,  and  the 
usual  explanation  is  given  of  the  cattle  rope, 
namely,  that  Dengdit  will  see  the  empty  halter 
and  know  that  an  animal  has  been  sacrificed. 

Besides  the  numerous  offerings  to  the  jok  already 
mentioned,  certain  annual  sacrifices  are  made  to 
them,  of  which  the  following  are  examples. 

The  Bor  Dinka  sacrifice  one  or  more  young  goats  at  the 
beginning  of  each  wet  season,  in  order  that  the  jok  may  not 
injure  the  cattle  in  the  luak,  the  horns  and  legs  with  the  dried 
skin  adhering  to  them  being  hung  up  within  the  entrance  to 
the  luak.  The  Shish  make  an  annual  sacrifice  to  the  jok  and 
also  to  the  'river  people,'  who,  as  already  indicated,  must  be 
considered  as  a  special  form  of  jok.  This  sacrifice  is  rhade  by 
every  householder,  for,  if  any  omitted  to  perform  it,  his  dura 
crop  would  be  poor,  and  hiB  cattle  would  sicken  or  die.  Each 
householder  kills  a  sheep  and  allows  the  blood  to  soak  into 
the  ground ;  the  flesh,  which  is  boiled  in  front  of  the  house, 
is  eaten,  care  being  taken  not  to  break  the  bones,  which  are 
collected  and  thrown  into  the  river.  As  he  kills  the  animal, 
the  housefather  says:  lJok  !  this  is  your  right.'  Pieces  from 
different  parts  of  the  sacrifice  are  boiled  in  a  pot  and  left 
outside  the  hut  during  the  night ;  in  the  morning  the  contents 
are  scattered  round  the  house,  when  the  dogs  and  birds  soon 
dispose  of  them. 

The  sacrifice  to  the  '  river  people '  takes  place  after  the  rains, 
when  the  people  leave  their  inland  settlements  to  come  down 
to  their  dry-season  abodes  on  the  river  bank,  and  before  they 
build  any  houses  or  cattle  kraals.  The  members  of  each  clan 
kill  a  sheep  soon  after  they  reach  the  river,  cutting  its  throat 
before  sunrise,  on  the  bank,  so  that  the  blood  flows  into  the 
river,  into  which  the  sheep  is  thrown  as  soon  as  it  is  dead. 
This  sacrifice  is  held  in  order  that  the  '  river  people'  may  not 
send  sickness  to  men  or  cattle,  and  it  is  also  said  to  please 
Dengdit. 

Belief  in  the  guiding  and  protecting  influence  of 
the  jok  is  perhaps  the  only  part  of  their  eschatology 
which  is  common  to  all  Dinka,  and  is  so  well  de- 
fined that  it  can  be  definitely  formulated  ;  the  ex- 
amples already  given  of  the  action  of  the  jok  and 
the  sacrifices  offered  to  them  make  their  action 
and  power  reasonably  plain  as  far  as  they  relate 
to  humanity.  In  other  words,  while  the  relation 
of  the  atiep  to  the  living  is  tolerably  well  known, 
the  very  opposite  is  the  case  in  regard  to  the  rol  or 
we,  for  its  condition  excites  none  of  the  interest 
which  is  felt  in  the  atiep.  The  generally  accepted 
view  with  regard  to  the  atiep  of  the  old  and  mighty 
dead  {jok)  has  been  indicated  already.  The  atiep 
of  the  recently  dead  are  usually  thought  to  frequent 
the  villages  and  houses  of  their  descendants,  taking 
an  interest  in  their  doings  and  moving  about  with 
them.  Certain  of  the  burial  customs,  which  pro- 
vide for  the  welfare  of  the  dead,  are  modified  in  the 
case  of  old  influential  men,  increasingly  lavish 
funeral  feasts  being  provided  for  important  men 
such  as  bain,  the  avowed  purpose  ot  all  funeral 
ceremonies  being  to  propitiate  the  dead  man,  lest 
he  should  send  sickness  and  misfortune  on  the 


DINKA 


711 


living.  Apart  from  the  funeral  and  mourning 
feasts,  atiep  are  not  given  sacrilices  unless  they 
appear  to  their  descendants  or  to  the  tiet  in  dreams 
and  ask  for  them. 

Side  by  side  with  this  doctrine  of  the  atiep  and 
its  corollary  that  the  spirits  of  the  dead  every- 
where surround  and  mix  with  the  living,  there  is 
another,  which,  if  it  were  accepted  and  applied 
logically,  would  be  incompatible  with  the  first. 
According  to  this  belief,  the  atiep  leaves  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  body  at  the  time  of  its 
burial,  and  passes  above  to  the  place  of  Dengdit. 
The  spirits  that  reach  Dengdit  do  not  lose  their 
power  of  returning  to  the  earth,  for  it  is  a  common 
belief  that  jok  may  pass  to  and  from  this  earth  to 
Dengdit,  while  one  of  the  commonest  Dinka  beliefs 
is  that  the  jok  come  to  the  dying  to  take  their 
atiep.  Among  the  Niel  Dinka  the  jok  come  in  the 
(spiritual)  form  of  the  animal  ancestors  (totem 
animals)  of  each  man  at  his  death  and  take  his 
spirit  to  Kok,  the  place  of  Dengdit  between  earth 
and  sky,  whence  comes  the  rain.  The  men  who 
gave  this  information  were  perfectly  convinced 
that  every  Dinka  had  some  animal  relative  which 
would  come  to  him  at  death,  and  they  stated  that 
some  men  had  seen  them  as  they  lay  dying. 

It  is  possible  to  obtain  a  hint  of  another  phase 
of  Dinka  eschatology  by  considering  their  habit  of 
pouring  a  little  water  or  merissa  (native  beer)  on 
the  ground  before  drinking.  According  to  some 
Nok  Dinka  who  did  this  after  a  long  and  thirsty 
march,  the  water  poured  out  was  for  the  dead. 
The  Shish  denied  that  merissa,  purposely  spilt  on 
the  ground,  was  for  the  benefit  of  the  dead,  but 
said  that,  when  a  man  died,  he  would  find  in  his 
grave  all  the  merissa  he  had  poured  out  and  the 
food  he  had  thrown  on  the  ground.  It  is,  however, 
possible  that  this  belief  may  be  due  to  Arab 
influence. 

According  to  the  Shish,  the  'river-people'  are 
also  jok,  and  they  can  be  seen  by  tiet,  for  '  land 
and  river  jok  have  the  same  origin,'  and  'some 
jok  are  in  the  river,  some  on  land.'  It  must, 
however,  be  admitted  that  many  Dinka  seem  to 
look  upon  the  '  river  people '  as  distinctly  mysteri- 
ous beings,  whom  they  do  not  regard  as  jok  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  word. 

5.  Rain-makers  and  rain-making. — The  rain- 
makers of  the  Dinka  tribe  are  called  bain,  but  it 
seems  that  not  every  bain  is  a  practising  rain- 
maker, though,  in  theory  at  least,  all  are  potential 
rain-makers.  The  men  commonly  spoken  of  as 
the  '  chiefs '  or  '  shaikhs '  of  the  Dinka  tribes  are 
actual  or  potential  bain,  but  there  does  not  appear 
to  be  any  tendency  for  village  chiefs  to  attempt  to 
emulate  the  rain-maker,  or  for  quack  practitioners 
to  appear,  for  the  successful  rain-maker  has  within 
him  the  spirit  of  the  great  rain-makers  of  the  past, 
and  all  recognize  the  futility  of  competing  with 
him.  Further,  the  existence  of  a  powerful  and 
successful  rain-maker  naturally  leads  those  who 
live  within  his  sphere  of  influence  to  leave  all 
such  matters  to  him.  ■  Thus  a  successful  rain- 
maker attains  to  very  great  power,  and  would 
be  consulted  about  all  important  affairs,  for  the 
spirit  of  a  great  ancestor  that  has  come  down  to 
him  through  a  succession  of  rain-makers  ensures 
that  he  is  far-seeing,  and  wiser  than  common  men. 
A  bain  should  not  drink  merissa,  lest  he  get  angry 
and  quarrel  with  the  men  of  his  village.  Although 
the  authority  of  a  bain  is  great,  it  is  not  absolute, 
for  one  bain  foretold  the  defeat  of  his  people  at  the 
hands  of  the  Government,  and  entreated  them  not 
to  fight ;  yet  his  people  fought  and  were  defeated. 

The  Shish  said  that  the  name  of  the  spirit 
immanent  in  their  rain-maker  (who  lived  at  Lau) 
was  Mabor.  This,  as  has  been  stated  in  §  3,  is  the 
name  of  one  of  the  four  '  sons  of  Dengdit.'     It  was 


obvious  that  to  the  Shish  of  Shambe  (some  miles 
from  Lau)  the  personality  of  the  rain-maker  was 
entirely  submerged  in  that  of  the  spirit  immanent 
in  him,  so  that,  when  they  spoke  of  Mabor,  the 
dominant  idea  in  their  mind  was  that  of  the 
ancestral  spirit  of  this  name  working  through  the 
body  of  the  man  in  whom  it  was  immanent. 

The  Shish  do  not  specially  protect  their  rain- 
maker from  a  violent  death,  and  he  may  even 
take  part  in  warfare  ;  for  no  doubt  is  felt  that,  if 
he  be  killed,  the  ancestral  spirit  will  pass  to  a 
suitable  successor.  But  an  important  rain-maker 
is  not  allowed  to  die  of  old  age  or  as  the  result 
of  chronic  lingering  illness ;  for,  if  this  occurred, 
sickness  would  attack  the  tribe  ;  there  Mould  be 
famine,  and  the  herds  would  not  yield  their  in- 
crease. When  a  rain-maker  feels  that  he  is  getting 
old  and  infirm,  he  tells  his  children  that  he  wishes 
to  die. 

Among  the  Agar  Dinka  a  large  grave  is  dug, 
and  an  angareb  is  placed  in  it,  upon  which  the 
rain-maker  lies  on  his  right  side,  with  a  skin 
under  his  head.  He  is  surrounded  by  his  friends 
and  relatives,  including  his  younger  children,  but 
his  elder  children  are  not  allowed  near  the  grave, 
at  any  rate  towards  the  end,  lest  in  their  despair 
they  should  injure  themselves.  The  bain  lies 
upon  the  angareb  without  food  or  drink  for  many 
hours,  generally  for  more  than  a  day.  From  time 
to  time  he  speaks  to  his  people,  recalling  the  past 
history  of  the  tribe,  how  he  has  ruled  and  advised 
them,  and  instructing  them  how  to  act  in  the 
future.  During  this  time  he  takes  no  food.  At 
last  he  tells  them  he  has  finished,  and  bids  them 
cover  him  up  ;  earth  is  thrown  into  the  grave,  and 
he  is  soon  suffocated.  Although  the  above  infor- 
mation was  obtained  from  a  number  of  Agar  Dinka, 
there  is  little  doubt  that  with  minor  variations  it 
applies  to  all  the  Dinka  tribes. 

The  Niel  Dinka  said  that  they  strangled  their 
bain  in  his  own  house,  having  first  prepared  his 
grave.  They  would  then  wash  the  corpse  and  kill 
a  bullock  in  front  of  the  house,  skinning  it  im- 
mediately and  making  an  angareb  of  the  skin. 
This  is  placed  in  the  grave,  and  the  body  is  laid 
upon  it,  a  cell  being  built  over  the  angareb  so  that 
the  earth  does  not  come  into  contact  with  the  body. 
Even  if  the  bain  were  quite  young,  he  would  be 
killed  if  it  was  thought  that  he  was  dangerously 
ill.  The  Niel  take  every  care  to  guard  the  bain 
from  accidental  death,  for,  even  if  he  should  die 
suddenly  as  the  result  of  accident,  some  sickness 
would  surely  occur,  though  his  son  or  a  near  blood 
relation  would  immediately  succeed  him.  It  would 
be  a  far  more  serious  matter  if  the  bain  were  to 
die  of  illness,  but  this  had  never  happened  ;  indeed, 
the  writer's  informant  (whose  father  and  paternal 
uncle  had  both  been  killed  in  the  appropriate 
manner)  pointed  out  that  this  would  prevent  any 
of  his  sons  (i.e.  presumably  any  relative)  from 
becoming  bain  in  his  turn.  The  writer  believes 
that  all  tribes  sprinkle  milk  on  the  grave,  while 
some  bury  a  bullock,  or  even  a  cow,  with  their  bain, 
and  it  is  probable  that  all  place  some  property  in 
the  grave. 

The  following  information  was  given  by  Biyordit, 
an  old  but  still  active  man,  the  rain -maker  of  the 
Bor  tribe,  who  [1911]  has  the  greatest  influence 
over  all  the  Bor  and  Tain  Dinka  : 

In  each  of  the  eight  rain-makers  who  preceded  Biyordit 
there  was  immanent  a  great  and  powerful  spirit  called  Lerpiu, 
now  immanent  in  Biyordit,  who  says  quite  simply  that  at  his 
death  Lerpiu  will  pass  into  his  son.  Near  a  hut  belonging  to 
Biyordit  there  is  another  tukl,  constituting  a  shrine,  in  which 
the  jok  of  Lerpiu  is  thought  to  reside  more  or  less  constantly. 
Within  this  hut  is  kept  a  very  sacred  spear,  also  called  Lerpiu, 
and  before  it  stands  a  post  called  rit,  to  which  are  attached  the 
horns  of  many  bullocks  sacrificed  to  Lerpiu.  Behind  the  hut 
there  is  a  bush  of  the  kind  called  akoi,  which  must  not  be  cut 
or  damaged  in  any  way,  but  which  strangers  are  allowed  to 


712 


DINKA 


approach  without  the  least  ceremony.  The  akoi  bush  is  clearly 
the  least  sacred  part  of  the  shrine,  yet  its  presence  is  essential, 
for  the  jok  leaves  the  hut  to  come  to  the  akoi  during  the 
great  rain-making  ceremony,  and  the  slight  sanctity  of  the  akoi 
at  other  times  is  well  explained  by  the  absence  of  the  jok. 

The  rain  ceremony  consists  of  a  sacrifice  to  Lerpiu,  to  induce 
him  to  move  Dengdit  to  send  rain.  It  is  held  in  the  spring 
(about  April),  when  the  new  moon  is  a  few  days  old.  In  the 
morning  two  bullocks  are  led  twice  round  the  shrine,  and  are 
tied  to  the  rit  by  Biyordit :  then  the  people  beat  drums ;  and 
men  and  women,  boys  and  girls,  all  dance  round  the  shrine. 
Nothing  further  is  done  until  the  bullocks  urinate,  when  every 
one  who  can  get  near  the  beasts  rubs  his  body  with  the  urine. 
After  this  all  except  the  old  people  go  away.  Presently  the 
bullocks  are  killed  by  Biyordit,  who  spears  them  and  cuts  their 
throats.  While  the  sacrifice  is  being  prepared,  the  people 
chant :  '  Lerpiu,  our  ancestor,  we  have  brought  you  a  sacri- 
fice :  be  pleased  to  cause  rain  to  fall.'  The  blood  is  collected 
in  a  gourd,  transferred  to  a  pot,  put  on  the  fire,  and  eaten  by 
the  old  and  important  people  of  the  clan.  Some  of  the  flesh  of 
one  bullock  is  put  into  two  pots  and  cooked  with  much  fat ; 
this  is  left  near  the  akoi  for  many  (perhaps  ten)  months,  yet  it 
is  said  not  to  smell  unpleasantly,  and  is  ultimately  eaten  by 
people  who  have  no  cattle  of  their  own.  The  food  in  the  pots 
near  the  akoi  is  said  to  be  for  the  jok,  hut  the  meat  from  the 
other  bullock  is  eaten  on  the  same  day.  The  bones  of  the  sacri- 
fice are  thrown  away,  but  the  horns  are  added  to  those  already 
attached  to  the  rit. 

Besides  the  great  rain-making  ceremony  per- 
formed at  a  central  shrine,  some  tribes  offer  a 
sacrifice  for  rain  in  each  settlement.  Among  the 
Shish  this  takes  place  before,  or  at  the  beginning 
of,  the  rainy  season. 

The  old  men  of  the  settlement  (bat)  kill  a  sheep,  thanking 
and  praising  Dengdit ;  the  animal  is  bisected  longitudinally, 
and  that  half  which  is  away  from  the  ground  is  cut  into  frag- 
ments and  cast  into  the  air  as  an  offering  to  Dengdit.  As  they 
fall  upon  the  ground,  so  they  are  left,  and  are  soon  eaten  by 
dogs  and  birds.  The  blood  of  the  sacrifice  is  allowed  to  soak 
into  the  ground,  but  the  remainder  of  the  meat  is  boiled  and 
eaten,  the  bones,  which  must  not  be  broken,  being  buried  in  the 
skin  for  seven  days,  and  afterwards  thrown  into  the  river. 
Some  dura  is  boiled,  and  this  is  thrown  into  the  air  and  left 
lying  upon  the  ground  in  the  same  way  as  the  flesh  of  the 
sacrifice  was  left. 

6.  Sacred  spears. — Mention  has  already  been 
made  of  certain  spears  kept  in  the  shrines  of 
Dengdit.  One  of  the  spears  in  the  Shish  shrine 
at  Lau  is  of  the  form  named  bit  by  the  Dinka,  and 
is  called  bit  yat.  Another  spear  with  the  usual 
leaf-shaped  blade  is  called  ton  yat,  and  the  iron  rod 
is  named  ten  yat.  These  spears  and  the  iron  rod 
are  described  as  playing  an  important  part  in  the 
great  rain-making  ceremony  held  in  the  luak  at 
Lau,  and  when  the  time  comes  to  replace  them 
an  elaborate  ceremony  is  performed.  Long  ago 
Dengdit  ordered  the  bain  Mabor  to  get  the  finest 
spear  he  could,  and  to  put  it  in  his  shrine  at  Lau. 
This  command  was  said  to  apply  not  only  to  the 
ton  yat,  but  also  to  the  bit  yat  and  ten  yat,  and 
all  these  are  renewed  periodically,  by  order  of 
Dengdit,  who,  in  a  dream,  indicates  that  the 
spears  are  getting  old  and  that  new  ones  must  be 
provided.  It  seems  that  a  new  ton  yat  is  brought 
to  the  luak  about  every  tenth  year,  a  white  sheep 
being  killed  with  the  new  spear  by  the  bain  as  an 
act  of  consecration.  Some  of  the  blood  is  left  on 
the  blade  for  three  days,  after  which  it  is  washed 
and  oiled.  Certain  old  men  and  women,  near 
relatives  of  the  bain,  boil  and  eat  the  flesh  of  this 
sacrifice  in  the  courtyard  of  the  luak,  after  which 
they  wash  their  hands  and  throw  the  bones,  none 
of  which  has  been  broken,  into  the  river.  The 
sacredness  of  the  old  spear  appears  to  be  trans- 
mitted to  the  new  by  thrusting  the  former  into  the 
earth  by  the  side  of  the  sacrifice,  after  which  it 
is  given  to  a  son  or  other  near  relative  of  the  bain. 

7.  Oaths. — In  small  matters  the  Shish  affirm 
'by  Nyalich.'  To  swear  a  binding  oath  a  man 
goes  to  the  blacksmith  and  licks  his  hammer ; 
then,  putting  it  on  the  ground,  he  says  :  '  If  I 
have  done  this  thing,  may  I  die ! '  Any  one 
swearing  falsely  would  certainly  die  within  a 
couple  of  days.  An  Agar  Dinka  will  swear  by 
licking  his  iron  bracelet  and  saying  what  he  has 
done  or  not  done,  and  that  he  is  prepared  to  die  if 
he  is  not  speaking  the  truth.     Another  oath  is  to 


place  a  spear  or  stick  on  the  ground  and  jumpover  it, 
saying  :  '  By  Dengdit,  I  have  not  done  this  thing  ; 
if  I  have,  may  my  spear  be  speedily  put  on  my 
grave  ! '  This  refers  to  the  Agar  custom  of  putting 
a  man's  spear,  bracelets,  and  shield  upon  his  grave 
for  seven  days.  The  most  terrific  oath  of  all  is  to 
go  to  the  shrine  (luak)  of  Dengdit  and  swear  by  it. 

8.  Blessings  and  curses :  the  evil  eye. — The 
Dinka  firmly  believe  in  the  efficacy  of  both  bless- 
ings and  curses,  and  that  people  and  cattle  can 
be  'overlooked.'  The  following  information  was 
obtained  from  Tain  Dinka  living  south  of  the  Sudd, 
but  it  probably  holds  good  over  a  much  wider 
area.  The  blessings  and  curses  of  strangers  are 
of  little  effect  (it  must  be  assumed  that  this  does 
not  apply  to  great  and  powerful  men),  but  the 
words  of  kinsfolk  are  powerful  for  good  or  evil. 
There  is  a  special  word  lou  meaning  '  to  speak  bad 
words  about  a  man's  body' ;  and  a  father,  by  saying 
his  son  shall  be  ill,  can  cause  him  to  sicken.  So, 
too,  a  man's  relatives  may  curse  him  if  he  does 
not  give  them  the  bullock  which  is  their  due  when 
he  builds  a  cattle-shed  soon  after  his  marriage. 
A  parent's  blessing  is  held  to  be  so  efficacious  that 
it  may  cure  illness,  the  power  for  good  being 
the  will  (atiep)  of  the  loving  father  or  mother. 
When  a  boy  is  to  be  blessed,  he  squats  on  the 
ground ;  and  his  father,  standing  by  him,  carries 
first  his  right  thigh  and  then  his  left  over  his  son's 
head.  Then  he  spits  on  his  scalp  and  blows  into 
his  ears  and  nose  ;  next  he  spits  on  his  own  hands 
and  rubs  them  over  the  boy's  scalp,  and,  again 
spitting  on  them,  smears  spittle  on  the  boy's  chest 
and  the  nape  of  his  neck.  Finally,  he  picks  up 
dust,  and  rubs  some  on  the  boy's  chest  and  back, 
throwing  away  the  remainder  into  the  air.  When 
a  man  is  about  to  bless  an  ailing  daughter,  her 
mother  brings  a  gourd  of  water,  into  which  the 
man,  his  wife,  and  the  girl's  brothers  and  sisters 
and  paternal  aunts  all  spit,  and  her  father  sprinkles 
the  water  over  the  girl's  body.  Nothing  further  is 
done  for  eight  days,  but  on  the  ninth  day  a  male 
goat  or  sheep  is  tied  up ;  when  it  urinates,  the 
girl's  breasts  and  back  are  anointed  with  the  urine, 
while  the  relatives  who  spat  into  the  bowl  pray 
that  she  may  be  cured.  Her  brothers  take  the 
goat,  throw  it  on  the  ground,  cut  its  throat,  and 
leave  the  body  lying  for  people  of  other  clans  to 
eat.  Any  one  can  '  overlook '  (Tain  kwan)  another 
who  is  not  a  very  close  blood  relation,  at  any  time 
when  his  victim  is  not  looking  him  straight  in  the 
face.  To  kwan  any  one  is  always  a  voluntary 
action,  and,  though  a  thin  or  poor  man  may  kwan 
a  well-conditioned  or  rich  man,  this  is  not  neces- 
sarily due  to  covetousness.  A  great  man  can  make 
people  ill  without  seeing  them,  by  desiring  it  in 
his  heart,  and  for  sickness  produced  in  this  way 
there  is  no  cure. 

9.  Magic. — Magic  appears  to  play  a  compara- 
tively small  part  in  the  spiritual  life  of  the  Dinka ; 
probably  this  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  dominating 
influence  of  the  cult  of  the  jok,  which  constitutes 
the  working  belief  of  the  people.  In  spite  of  this, 
auxiliary  magical  processes  may  be  used  in  order 
to  increase  the  efficacy  of  a  sacrifice.  Thus,  it  is 
not  uncommon  for  a  goat  to  be  killed  as  a  direct 
appeal  to  the  jok  before  hippopotamus-hunting. 
The  Tain  Dinka  of  Malek  village  select  a  '  red' 
he-goat  or  sheep  because  the  hippopotamus  is  '  red,' 
and  take  it  to  the  Sudd  in  a  canoe,  where  they  cut 
its  throat  with  a  spear,  because  the  animal  they 
are  hunting  can  be  killed  only  with  a  spear.  (The 
usual  method  of  killing  a  sheep  or  goat  is  by 
a  blow  on  the  head.)  Its  blood  is  allowed  to 
run  into  the  river,  while  some  is  smeared  on  the 
blades  of  the  harpoons.  As  soon  as  it  is  dead, 
it  is  thrust  under  the  Sudd  where  the  hippo- 
potami are,  its  mouth   being  tied  up  so  that  it 


DISCIPLES  OF  CHRIST 


713 


may  not  do  any  damage  with  its  teeth.  The 
man  with  the  harpoon  prays  to  his  jok  as  he 
approaches  the  animal,  and.  the  ceremony  after 
its  death  is  simply  an  offering  of  part  of  the 
flesh  to  the  jok.  Any  one  may  provide  the  goat,  but 
only  three  men — Apuot  the  bain,  and  two  others — 
may  cut  its  throat ;  if  any  other  were  to  officiate, 
his  action  would  be  absolutely  without  effect. 

Literature. — Authorities  quoted  in  the  article. 

C.  G.  Seligmann. 

DIOGENES.— See  Cynics. 

DISCIPLES  OF  CHRIST.— A  religious  body 
located  chiefly  in  the  central  and  western  portions 
of  the  United  States.  The  originator  of  the  move- 
ment was  Thomas  Campbell,  a  minister  of  the 
Seceder  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  north  of 
Ireland,  who  came  to  America  in  1807,  and  was 
assigned  to  ministerial  work  in  the  Presbytery  of 
Chartiers,  in  Western  Pennsylvania.  Keenly  sen- 
sitive to  the  evil  results  of  sectarian  divisions,  he 
used  his  efforts  to  unite  the  scattered  groups  of 
Presbyterians  in  such  common  work  and  worship 
as  should  allay  in  some  measure  the  strife  of  rival 
factions.  But  so  little  were  the  churches  of  the 
period  prepared  for  the  practice  of  comity  that  he 
was  censured  by  the  Presbytery  for  his  conduct, 
and,  although  upon  appeal  the  Synod  declined  to 
affirm  the  judgment  of  the  Presbytery,  he  found  it 
desirable  to  sever  his  connexion  with  the  Church 
of  his  fathers.  But  his  earnest  labours  in  behalf 
of  unity  led  to  the  formation  of  a  group  called  the 
'Christian  Association  of  Washington  (Pa.),  and, 
soon  after,  he  published  a  document  called  the 
'  Declaration  and  Address,'  in  which  he  pleaded 
with  his  brethren  of  all  Christian  bodies  to 
abandon  whatever  religious  doctrines  and  practices 
were  unscriptural  and  divisive,  and  to  seek  the 
peace  of  the  Church  by  the  realization  of  the 
Lord's  prayer  (Jn  1711.219.)  for  yle  oneness  of  His 
people.  He  was  afterwards  joined  by  his  son 
Alexander,  who  had  been  trained  for  the  ministry 
in  Ireland  and  at  Glasgow. 

In  studying  the  problem  of  Christian  unity  these 
men  determined  that  they  would  propose  to  their 
religious  neighbours  the  elimination  of  human  addi- 
tions to  the  primitive  and  simple  gospel.  This 
seemed  to  them  a  sufficient  platform  for  a  united 
Church.  Their  purpose  was  the  restoration  of  the 
early  Christian  society  as  the  means  of  realizing 
Christian  oneness.  They  included  in  their  pro- 
gramme all  the  essential  elements  of  the  Apostolic 
faith,  spirit,  and  service.  They  held  strongly  to 
the  great  evangelical  beliefs  of  the  historic  Church. 
They  sought  to  make  the  j  teachings  of  the  NT 
authoritative  in  their  procedure.  In  compliance 
with  this  ideal  they  decided  that  the  practice  of 
infant  baptism  and  of  affusion  must  be  abandoned. 
The  movement  grew,  and  soon  the  first  congrega- 
tion was  established  at  Brush  Run,  Pa.  (4th  May 
1811). 

The  Reformers,  as  they  called  themselves,  were 
active  in  the  dissemination  of  their  views.  Such 
leaders  as  the  Campbells,  Barton  W.  Stone,  and 
Walter  Scott  were  effective  advocates  of  the  new 
message.  The  adoption  of  immersion  in  the 
interest,  as  they  believed,  of  Christian  unity 
brought  them  into  sympathetic  relations  with  the 
Baptists,  and  in  1823  Alexander  Campbell  began 
the  publication  of  a  monthly  called  The  Christian 
Baptist.  For  a  time  it  seemed  probable  that  the 
union  of  the  two  bodies  would  be  effected.  The 
Reformers  were  actually  received  into  the  fellow- 
ship of  the  Redstone  Baptist  Association,  and  later 
into  that  of  the  Mahoning  Association,  official 
organizations  of  the  Baptists  in  Western  Pennsyl- 
vania and  Ohio.  But  the  union  was  never  com- 
plete.    Each  of  the  groups  suspected  the  other  and 


at  times  made  counter-charges  of  unsoundness  of 
views.  Separation  took  place,  and  gradually  the 
Reformers,  or  Disciples,  as  they  usually  called 
themselves,  went  their  way  as  a  separate  oody. 
At  Bethany,  W.  Va.,  in  1840  Ca-npbell  founded 
Bethany  College,  the  first  of  many  schools  organ- 
ized by  the  Disciples.  The  movement  grew  rapidly 
in  the  States  of  West  Virginia,  Ohio,  Pennsylvania, 
and  Kentucky.  Campbell  travelled  widely,  preach- 
ing and  holding  debates  on  such  themes  as  related 
to  the  Primitive  Church  and  the  necessity  of  its 
restoration.  The  formative  influences  of  his  early 
training,  the  Lockian  philosophy,  the  Covenant 
theology  of  Holland,  the  reformatory  preaching  of 
the  Haldanes  in  Scotland  and  Ireland,  and  a  pro- 
found sense  of  the  scandal  and  disaster  of  divisions 
in  the  Church,  were  made  evident  in  all  his  utter- 
ances. His  power  was  widely  felt,  both  among  his 
own  brethren  and  in  other  communions,  and  out- 
side the  Church.  As  a  result,  a  large  company  of 
vigorous  and  aggressive  preachers  and  teachers 
became  identified  with  the  enterprise,  and  its  pro- 
gress was  rapid. 

With  the  growth  of  churches  the  first  interest  in 
the  idea  of  Christian  unity  gave  way  somewhat  to 
the  seemingly  more  definite  and  practical  effort 
towards  the  restoration  of  early  Christian  usages. 
The  weekly  observance  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  the 
immersion  of  adults  as  the  only  method  of  baptism, 
the  organization  of  churches  after  the  congre- 
gational order,  with  elders  or  bishops,  and  deacons, 
the  rejection  of  all  speculative  discussion  of  the 
work  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  the  emphasis  upon 
the  importance  of  the  Scriptures  in  conversion 
were  outstanding  features  of  the  new  message. 
Close  communion  was  never  practised,  but  it  was 
understood  that  only  the  immersed  should  be 
admitted  to  the  churches. 

In  the  development  of  so  vigorous  a  body  it  was 
inevitable  that  controversy  should  have  a  pro- 
nounced part.  Both  with  their  religious  neigh- 
bours and  among  themselves  the  Disciples  have 
held  earnest  and  prolonged  controversy.  Tend- 
encies to  literalism  and  legalism  have  not  been 
wanting,  but  they  have  yielded  slowly  to  the 
spirit  of  inquiry  and  progress.  The  creation  of 
new  educational  foundations,  the  maintenance  of 
an  aggressive  journalism,  the  organization  of 
missionary  and  philanthropic  agencies,  and  the 
encouragement  of  an  effective  evangelism  in  the 
churches  have  increased  the  numbers,  intelligence, 
and  consecration  of  the  Disciples,  until  at  the 
present  time  they  are  fifth  among  the  great 
evangelical  bodies  of  America ;  have  a  consider- 
able constituency  in  England  and  Australia  ;  have 
important  missionary  interests  in  China,  India, 
Japan,  Africa,  the  Philippines,  Mexico,  and  the 
West  Indies ;  and  maintain  efficient  State  and 
District  organizations  in  nearly  all  sections  of  the 
United  States  and  Canada. 

The  Disciples  have  desired  from  the  first  to  be 
known  only  by  NT  names.  They  speak  of  their 
churches  as  '  Christian  Churches,'  or  '  Churches  of 
Christ.'  These  names  they  hold  in  common  with 
all  believers,  and  claim  no  exclusive  title  to  them. 
Their  worship  has  always  been  marked  by 
simplicity,  though  there  is  an  increasing  effort  to 
impart  dignity  to  the  services. 

On  the  themes  of  advancing  Christian  thought, 
— the  value  and  results  of  the  historical  method  of 
Bible  study,  the  contributions  of  modern  scientific 
and  philosophical  labours  to  the  religious  life,  the 
awakening  of  the  social  and  civic  conscience,  the 
extension  of  missionary  effort,  and  the  adoption  of 
higher  educational  standards — the  Disciples  have 
passed  through  the  usual  throes  and  differences  of 
opinion  incident  to  the  development  of  most  sections 
of  the  modern  Church.     But  the  progress  has  been 


714 


DISCIPLINE  (Buddhist) 


steady,  and  the  future  is  promising.  Particularly 
are  the  Disciples  awakening  to  the  realization  of 
their  historic  task — the  earnest  effort  to  promote 
both  by  testimony  and  practical  labours  the  unity 
of  the  people  of  God. 

Literature.— E.  Gates,  The  Disciples  of  Christ,  New  York, 
1905,  also  Early  Relation  and  Separation  of  Baptists  and  Dvs> 
ciples,  Chicago,  1904 ;  B.  B.  Tyler,  The  Duciples,  New  York, 


1894;  J.  H.  Garrison,  Old  Faith  Restated,  St.  Louis,  1891, 
also  The  Reformation  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  do.,  1901 ; 
F.  D.  Power,  Sketches  of  Our  Pioneers,  do.,  1899 ;  C.  A.  Young, 
Historical  Documents  advocating  Christian  Union,  Chicago, 
1904 ;  J.  A.  Williams,  Life  of  John  Smith,  Cincinnati,  1870 ; 
W.  Baxter,  Life  of  Walter  Scott,  do.,  1874;  R.  Richardson, 
Memoirs  of  Alexander  Campbell,  do.,  1888 ;  W.  E.  Garrison, 
Alexander  Campbell's  Theology,  St.  Louis,  1900 ;  S.  Lamar, 
First  Principles  and  Going  on  to  Perfection,  Cincinnati,  1891. 

Herbert  L.  Willett. 


DISCIPLINE. 


Buddhist  (T.  W.  Rhys  Davids),  p.  714. 
Christian  (D.  S.  Schaff),  p.  715. 

DISCIPLINE  (Buddhist).— This  subject  may 
best  be  discussed  under  four  different  heads:  (1) 
discipline  of  the  laity  by  the  clergy  ;  (2)  discipline 
of  the  novices  by  members  of  the  Order ;  (3)  dis- 
cipline as  carried  out  by  the  Order,  in  Chapter 
assembled,  against  individual  members  of  it ;  and 
(4)  self-discipline. 

1.  Discipline  of  the  laity. — The  Buddhist  doc- 
trine did  not  recognize  either  a  deity  who  can 
punish  or  a  soul  to  be  punished,  and  denied  to  the 
members  of  the  Order  (the  bhikkhus)  any  priestly 
powers  by  which  penalties  in  the  next  life  could  be 
mitigated  or  increased.  Any  disciplinary  proceed- 
ings against  the  laity,  therefore,  were  necessarily 
of  a  simple  character.  There  are  words  in  Pali 
for  'instruction,'  'discussion,'  'training,'  and  'self- 
restraint  ' ;  but  there  is  no  word  covering  the  same 
ground  as  'discipline.'  The  ideas  of  confessional 
or  father-confessor,  of  absolution,  inquisition,  and 
church-membership  are  wanting.  The  word  'Bud- 
dhist' was  not  invented  till  many  centuries  after 
the  rise  of  what  we  call  Buddhism.  By  approving 
wholly  or  in  part  the  doctrines  of  the  new  move- 
ment, a  layman  did  not  join  any  new  organization 
or  sever  himself  from  any  other.  When  Siha,  the 
Llcchavi  general,  an  adherent  of  the  Jains,  became 
converted  by  the  Buddha,  he  was  expressly  enjoined 
by  the  Buddha  himself  to  continue  his  support  of 
the  Jain  community  ( Vinaya  Texts,  ii.  115).  The 
only  action  of  a  disciplinary  kind  adopted  by  the 
early  Buddhists  towards  laymen  is  described  in 
Vinaya  Texts,  iii.  118 ff.  It  is  called  'the  turning 
down  of  the  bowl '  {pattassa  nikkujjana).  In  case  a 
layman,  in  any  one  of  five  ways,1  endeavours  to  do 
harm  to  the  Order,  or  speaks  in  disparagement  of 
the  Buddha,  the  Doctrine,  or  the  Order,  then  it 
is  permitted  to  the  bhikkhus  '  to  turn  down  the 
bowl '  in  respect  of  that  layman — that  is,  to  refuse 
to  accept  a  gift  of  food  from  him.  If  in  any  of  the 
same  five  ways  a  bhikkhu  should  endeavour  to  do 
harm  to  a  layman,  a  Chapter  should  compel  him 
to  beg  pardon  of  that  layman  (ib.  ii.  355  f.).  The 
layman  could  have  the  ban  removed  by  a  Chapter 
by  confessing  his  error  and  asking  for  forgiveness 
(ib.  iii.  124).  No  mention  of  this  ceremony  of 
turning  down  the  bowl  has  been  found  except  in 
the  earliest  period,  and  it  is  now  quite  obsolete. 
Of  any  formal  discipline  of  laymen  in  knowledge 
of  the  faith  we  hear  nothing ;  and  there  was  no  ] 
custom  corresponding  to  the  Arcani  Disciplina 
(q.v.)  of  the  early  Catholics.  The  bhikkhus  are 
described  as  willing  to  talk  over  with  laymen  in 
an  informal  way  any  points  of  doctrine  they  wished 
to  discuss.  A  large  number  of  cases  of  this  in- 
formal teaching  are  given  in  the  books. 

2.  Discipline  of  novices.  —  One  of  the  main 
objects  of  the  founders  of  the  various  Orders  that 
existed  in  India  in  the  Buddha's  time  was  to  pro- 
vide, by  the  establishment  of  the  Order,  for  the 
preservation  and  propagation  of  the  founder's 
teaching.     There  were  then  no  books  and  no  pub- 

1  The  details  of  these  five  ways  are  given  below  in  the  section 
on  '  Discipline  of  novices.' 


Jewish  (M.  Joseph),  p.  720. 
Muslim. — See  Muhammadanism. 

lishers.  The  novices  and  the  younger  members  of 
the  Order  learnt  the  statements  of  the  doctrine 
(the  Suttas)  by  heart,  and  the  older  members  ex- 
pounded and  discussed  them,  and  cross-questioned 
the  novices  on  their  knowledge.  It  was  necessary 
for  such  an  Order  to  have  rules.  These  the  novices 
learnt,  and  the  elders  discussed.  Among  the  early 
Buddhist  literature,  thus  handed  down  to  us,  there 
are  manuals  used  for  the  discipline  of  the  novices 
in  the  Doctrine,  in  the  Poetry,  in  the  psychologi- 
cal Ethics,  and  in  the  Canon  Law.  The  majority 
of  the  Abhidhamma  books  are  of  this  nature. 
The  Parivdra  ('  Supplement')  to  the  Vinaya,  which 
occupies  the  fifth  volume  of  Oldenberg's  edition  of 
the  text,  consists  entirely  of  a  number  of  questions 
on  the  Canon  Law,  and  was  evidently  used  in  the 
teaching  of  novices.  The  Khudda-  and  Mula- 
sikkha  ('  Short  and  Advanced  Manuals')  are  some- 
what later  examples  of  the  same  thing.  These 
studies  and  the  personal  attendance  on  his  teacher 
occupied  most  of  the  time  of  the  novice.  If  a 
novice  tried  to  prevent  the  elder  bhikkhus  from 
receiving  alms,  if  he  devised  mischief  against  them, 
if  he  prevented  their  finding  a  lodging-place,  if  he 
abused  them,  or  if  he  caused  division  among  them, 
then  his  teacher  might  interdict  him  from  entering 
certain  parts  of  the  common  residence  (explained 
as  meaning  the  bedroom  or  the  sitting-room  he 
has  frequented  [Vinaya,  i.  84]).  In  ten  cases  of 
grievous  misconduct,  a  novice  may  be  expelled  by 
his  teacher  (ib.  i.  85).  No  other  disciplinary  pro- 
ceedings are  mentioned. 

3.  Discipline  in  the  Order. — The  Buddhist  Order 
was  a  democracy.  There  was  no  vow  of  obedience 
and  no  hierarchy.  The  administration  of  the  busi- 
ness of  the  Order  was  carried  out  locally  by  a 
Chapter  on  which  each  member  of  the  Order  (each 
bhikkhu)  resident  in  the  locality  had  a  seat.  The 
senior  member  presided  as  primus  inter  pares,  and 
decisions  were  made  by  vote  of  the  majority  of 
those  present.  Should  any  member  of  the  Order 
have  committed,  in  the  opinion  of  any  other  mem- 
ber, any  breach  of  one  of  the  regulations,  the  latter 
could  bring  forward,  at  the  next  meeting  of  the 
Chapter,  a  resolution  on  the  subject.  If  the  re- 
solution was  carried,  the  offending  member  re- 
mained for  a  fixed  period  under  suspension.  The 
suspension  could  be  removed  by  a  similar  resolution 
when  the  offender  had  acknowledged  his  offence. 
In  four  cases  of  grave  moral  delinquency — murder, 
theft,  impurity,  and  a  false  claim  to  extraordinary 
spiritual  pre-eminence — the  penalty  was  expulsion 
from  the  Order.  The  lawbooks  give  numerous 
cases  which  throw  light  on  the  question  whether 
some  particular  act  does  or  does  not  amount  to  a 
breach  of  any  one  of  the  227  main  rules  of  the  Order, 
or  of  any  one  of  the  explanatory  by-laws  subsidiary 
to  those  rules.  But  they  afford  no  evidence  as  to 
how  frequently  recourse  was  actually  had,  in  the 
early  years  of  the  movement,  to  such  disciplinary 
proceedings  by  a  Chapter.  Meetings  of  the  Chapter 
are  still  neld  in  Siam,  Burma,  and  Ceylon  for 
business  purposes,  for  the  recitation  of  the  Rules, 


DISCIPLINE  (Christian) 


715 


for  admission  of  new  members,  etc.  Whether  dis- 
ciplinary proceedings  are  still  used,  and,  if  so,  how 
frequently,  is  not  known.  In  other  countries  the 
ancient  rules  have  fallen  altogether  out  of  use, 
and  we  have  no  information  as  to  any  disciplinary 
proceedings  that  may  have  been  substituted  for 
the  formal  acts  of  the  Chapter  (see,  further,  art. 
Crimes  and  Punishments  [Buddhist]). 

4.  Self-discipline. — There  were  three  codes  of 
ethics  in  early  Buddhism — one  for  the  lay  adherent, 
another  for  a  member  of  the  Order,  and  a  third  for 
those,  whether  laymen  or  mendicants,  who  had 
entered  upon  the  Path  to  arahat-ship.  People 
joined  the  Order  for  a  variety  of  reasons — to  earn 
a  livelihood,  for  a  life  of  literary  peace,  to  escape 
the  troubles  of  the  world,  from  dislike  of  authority, 
or  even  (as  Nagasena  says  to  King  Milinda)  out  of 
fear  of  kings.1  Some  were  converted  men  before 
they  joined  the  Order ;  the  majority  were  not. 
They  were  expected,  in  addition  to  their  literary 
studies,  to  devote  themselves  to  an  elaborate 
system  of  self -discipline  in  ethics  and  psychology, 
leading  up  to  what  were  regarded  as  the  highest 
truths — those  constituting  the  samadhi,  the  in- 
sight of  the  higher  stages  of  the  Path.2  The 
existence  of  this  system  is  the  most  characteristic 
feature  of  Buddhist  discipline  (see  art.  HlNAYANA). 

Literature. — The  Vinaya  Pitakam,  ed.  H.  Oldenberg  (5  vols., 
London,  1879-1883)  ;  H.  Oldenberg  and  Rhys  Davids,  Vinaya 
Texts  (Oxford,  1881-1885,  being  tr.  of  vols.  i.  and  ii.  of  the  last- 
named  work) ;  Dxgha  Nikdya,  ed.  Rhys  Davids  and  J.  E. 
Carpenter  (PTS,  1890-1910) ;  Rhys  Davids,  Dialogues  of  the 
Buddha  (Oxford,  1899-1910),  also  Questions  of  King  Milinda 
(Oxford,  1890-1S94);  Khudda-Sikkhd  and  Mula-Sikkhd,  ed.  E. 
MiiUer  (JPTS,  18S3).  T.  W.  RHYS  DAVIDS. 

DISCIPLINE  (Christian).—!.  Definition  and 
aim. — Church  discipline  is  that  body  of  measures 
which  have  been  employed  in  the  Christian  Church 
to  secure  its  own  purity  and  the  spiritual  well- 
being  of  its  members  by  the  punishment  of 
offenders  against  its  constitution  and  teachings. 
The  authority  for  such  procedure  is  based  (1)  upon 
the  very  nature  of  the  Church  as  a  select  body 
with  a  code  of  its  own  ;  (2)  upon  express  com- 
mands of  Christ ;  (3)  upon  Apostolic  precepts  and 
examples  afforded  in  the  history  of  the  Apostolic 
Church.  The  Church,  as  an  institution  endowed 
with  the  quality  of  holiness  and  entrusted  with 
the  deposit  of  revealed  truth,  is  bound  to  keep 
itself  free  from  corrupting  elements  which  might 
taint  its  purity  and  thwart  its  activity  in  training 
its  members  and  in  bearing  witness  to  the  world. 
As  it  concerns  the  offender,  discipline  is  intended 
(1)  to  reclaim  him  from  error  of  doctrine  or 
impurity  of  life,  so  that,  if  possible,  his  soul  may 
be  saved ;  or  (2)  to  cut  him  off,  as  a  withered 
branch,  from  the  body  of  Christ  and  all  participa- 
tion in  its  benefits.  In  the  development  of  the 
Canon  Law,  such  punishments  were  termed  either 
medicinal  (paence  medicinales)  or  strictly  penal 
[pcenoe  vindicative).  The  former  are  corrective 
and  reformatory ;  the  latter,  while,  according  to 
canonists,  they  do  not  wholly  exclude  this  idea, 
are  mainly  concerned  with  the  vindication  of  the 
majesty  of  the  law  and  the  removal  of  all  danger 
to  the  Church  from  contagion. 

After  the  Apostolic  age  and  from  the  close  of 
the  2nd  cent.,  Church  discipline  found  expression 
in  the  unformulated  system  of  Penance.  To  this 
were  added,  from  the  4th  cent.,  the  Canons  of 
Councils,  local  and  ecumenical ;  from  the  7th  the 
Penitential  Books ;  and  later  the  collections  of 
Canon  Law  culminating  in  the  Decretals  of  Gratian, 
about  1150.  Beginning  with  Constantine's  reign, 
severe  civil  penalties  were  executed  upon  dissenters 
from  the  Church's  formulated  standard  of  doctrine. 
The  Arians,  who  refused  obedience  to  the  Nicene 
1  Milinda,  i.  50. 
-  Rhys  Davids,  Dialogues  of  the  Buddha,  i.  190-192. 


statement,  were  banished,  and  their  books  burnt. 
Although  such  penalties  were  inflicted  by  the  civil 
ruler,  they  received  the  approbation  of  the  Church. 
The  legislation  concerning  the  discipline  and 
punishment  of  dissenters  reached  its  culmination, 
so  far  as  the  Church  was  concerned,  in  the 
tribunals  of  the  Papal  and  Spanish  Inquisitions 
(1215,  1478).  This  body  of  legislation  was  ex- 
tended to  include  witchcraft  and  all  kinds  of 
maleficittm,  especially  after  the  bull  of  Innocent 
VIII.,  Summis  aesiderantes  (1484). 

The  Reformers  continued  to  insist  upon  ecclesi- 
astical discipline,  and,  in  their  hands,  it  found  its 
most  strenuous  application  in  the  codes  of  Geneva 
and  the  disciplinary  books  of  the  Elizabethan 
Puritans  of  Scotland  and  the  Westminster  As- 
sembly. As  to  the  seat  of  authority  for  the 
exercise  of  Church  discipline,  the  theory  has  been, 
and  is,  that  the  Church  exercises  discipline  over 
her  own  members  and  within  her  own  sphere.  To 
use  the  expression  current  in  the  Middle  Ages,  she 
wields  the  spiritual  sword  (glad'mm  spirituale),  or, 
to  quote  a  Protestant  symbol  (the  Scottish  First 
Book  of  Discipline,  ch.  ix.),  she  'draws  the  sword 
which  of  God  she  hath  received.'  But,  in  fact, 
not  only  has  the  distinction  between  the  Church 
and  the  State  as  agents  to  punish  ecclesiastical 
offences  [delicto)  not  always  been  clearly  defined, 
but  the  Church  has  not  restricted  herself  to  her 
sphere,  and,  indeed,  has  expected  the  State  to  aid 
her  in  the  maintenance  of  her  discipline.  From  325 
onwards  the  Universal  Church  gradually  came  tu 
approve  civil  penalties  for  ecclesiastical  offences. 
The  Latin  Church,  through  the  Inquisition,  the 
culminating  procedure  in  her  disciplinary  activity, 
not  only  pronounced  suspects  guilty  of  heresy,  but 
imprisoned  them,  ordered  their  houses  to  be  burnt 
and  their  goods  confiscated,  and  turned  them  over 
to  the  civil  authorities,  knowing  that  their  punish- 
ment would  be  death.  In  the  Protestant  Churches 
of  Zurich  and  Geneva,  among  the  Protestants  of 
England  and  Scotland,  and  during  the  Colonial 
period  in  the  United  States,  the  same  confusion 
prevailed,  although  in  its  application  the  legisla- 
tion was  much  less  destructive  than  during  the 
Middle  Ages.  It  has  remained  for  more  recent 
times  to  make  the  line  separating  the  ecclesiastical 
and  civil  realms  more  distinct,  even  to  the  complete 
separation  of  Church  and  State,  in  some  Protestant 
lands. 

2.  Discipline  in  the  Apostolic  Church. — Pure  as 
is  the  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  spotless 
as  is  the  ideal  Church,  the  bride  of  Christ,  it  was 
predicted  by  Christ  that  offences  would  arise  (Mt 
18').  Such  offences  were  manifested  in  the  earliest 
days  of  the  Church's  history.  The  Apostles  them- 
selves remained  conscious  of  weaknesses  and  faults. 
Peter  denied  Christ  (Mt  266i"r-)>  and  was  condemned 
by  Paul  at  Antioch  (Gal  2llff- ).  Paul  says,  '  I  buffet 
my  body'  (1  Co  9"),  calls  upon  the  Christians  to 
whom  he  wrote  'to  mortify  their  members'  (Col 
35),  and  in  Ro  7  indicates  that  a  constant  war  goes 
on  in  the  Christian  between  the  appetencies  of 
the  flesh  and  the  will  of  the  Spirit.  '  In  a  great 
house  there  are  not  only  vessels  of  gold  and  of 
silver,  but  also  of  wood  and  of  earth  ;  and  some 
unto  honour,  and  some  unto  dishonour '  (2  Ti  220). 
Here  the  Apostle  has  in  mind  persons  '  reprobate 
concerning  the  faith,'  whom  he  compares  to  Jannes 
and  Jambres  (38). 

The  Church's  right  to  exercise  discipline  was 
definitely  conferred  when  Christ  empowered  His 
Apostles  to  bind  and  loose  (Mt  1818).  He  also 
indicated  the  measures  to  be  resorted  to  when  an 
offence  became  known.  If  a  brother  was  found 
guilty  of  a  fault,  he  was  to  be  privately  admonished 
by  a  single  person  ;  then,  if  necessary,  by  several 
in   company ;    and    finally,    if    reproof   was    still 


716 


DISCIPLINE  (Christian) 


ineffectual,  the  offender  was  to  be  publicly  rebuked 
before  the  congregation.  In  case  he  was  still 
obdurate,  he  was  to  be  treated  '  as  the  Gentile  and 
the  publican'  (vv.16-17). 

After  the  Resurrection,  the  Apostles  exercised 
the  function  of  discipline,  and  warranted  it  by 
precepts.  The  duty  of  feeding  the  flock  and  ruling 
in  the  Church  (Ac  2028,  He  137  etc.)  implied  this 
function.  Special  rules  of  practice  were  issued  by 
the  council  of  Jerusalem  (Ac  15).  The  offences  con- 
demned were  both  errors  of  doctrine  and  faults  of 
conduct  against  the  pure  laws  of  Christian  living. 
The  first  cases  of  discipline — the  appalling  deaths  of  Ananias 
and  Sapphira  (Ac  6)— are  so  extraordinary  that  no  one  but  an 
extreme  advocate  of  Church  prerogative  would  find  in  them  a 
precedent  for  the  Church  to  follow,  although  they  are  referred 
to  as  examples  of  just  punishment,  not  only  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  but  by  Calvin.  It  is  true  that,  in  the  case  of  Sapphira, 
Peter  announced  her  death ;  but  the  punishments  must  be 
looked  upon  as  the  unusual  act  of  God,  designed  to  make  a 
lasting  impression  upon  the  Church.  To  another  category 
belong  the  cases  which  occur  in  the  writings  of  Paul  and  John. 
John  (2  Jn  10f-)  took  the  position  that  heresy  was  a  sufficient 
ground  for  refusing  companionship  with  the  offenders.  Paul 
combined  the  two  categories  when  he  called  upon  the  Thessa- 
lonian  Christians  to  withdraw  themselves  '  from  every  brother 
that  walketh  disorderly,  and  not  after  the  tradition  which  they 
received  of  us '  (2  Th  36).  Heresy  he  pronounced  a  gangrene 
(2  Ti  217,  of.  Tit  310),  aI)d  he  admonished  the  Corinthians  to 
exclude  from  their  companionship  brethren  who  were  extor- 
tioners, fornicators,  revilers,  idolaters,  drunkards,  and  covetous 
(1  Co  59-i3).  He  excommunicated  the  member  of  the  Corinthian 
congregation  who  had  committed  incest  with  his  mother-in-law 
(1  Co  6,  2  Co  7),  and  '  delivered  unto  Satan '  Alexander  and 
HymenEeus  (1  Ti  l20).  He  also  invoked  the  anathema  against 
'any  man  that  loveth  not  the  Lord,'  and  against  the  Judaiz- 
ing  teachers  who  might  preach  another  gospel  than  that  he 
preached  (1  Co  1622,  Gal  l8).  In  the  case  of  the  Corinthian 
offender,  Paul  states  that  his  purpose  was  that  his  '  spirit  may 
be  saved  in  the  day  of  the  Lord  Jesus,'  and,  in  the  case  of 
Alexander  and  Hymenssus,  that  they  '  might  be  taught  not  to 
blaspheme.' 

It  is  evident  that  it  is  possible,  from  these  state- 
ments of  the  NT,  for  a  Church  hierarchy,  if  it 
be  so  disposed,  to  justify  the  resort  to  the  most 
rigorous  methods  of  disciplinary  constraint,  and  to 
reduce  Church  government  to  a  mere  contrivance 
to  exact  implicit  mechanical  obedience  to  a  system 
of  ecclesiastical  enactments,  forgetting  that  the 
Church  is  a  training  school  to  exercise  discipline 
in  the  spirit  of  love  and  for  the  education  and 
correction  of  the  weak  and  offending. 

3.  The  ante-Nicene  practice  (a.d.  100-313,  the 
date  of  Constantine's  edict  of  toleration). — In  this 
period  a  strict  system  of  discipline  was  practised, 
but  the  punishments  were  prescribed  and  executed 
by  the  spiritual  authorities,  and  had  nothing  to  do 
with  civil  constraints.  There  was  no  precise  code, 
and  the  practice  differed  in  different  parts  of  the 
Church,  for  example,  as  between  N.  Africa  and 
Rome.  The  two  marked  features  are  the  develop- 
ment of  the  system  of  penance  and  the  issue  of 
disciplinary  canons  by  councils.  The  distinction 
which  came  to  be  made  between  venial  and  mortal 
sins  also  had  an  important  bearing  upon  the 
exercise  of  discipline. 

In  his  de  Pudic.  ch.  19  ('  Ante-Nic.  Fathers,'  Amer.  ed.,  iv.  97), 
Tertullian  enumerates  seven  mortal  offences  for  which,  if  com- 
mitted after  baptism,  there  can  be  no  restoration  in  this  world 
or  hope  in  the  world  to  come — murder,  idolatry,  theft,  apostasy, 
blasphemy,  fornication,  adultery.  For  these  Christ  will  not 
act  as  pleader  ihorum  ultra  exorator  non  erit  Christies).  Those 
who  commit  such  offences  cease  to  be  sons  of  God.  For  other 
sins  committed  after  baptism,  certain  penances  or  compensa- 
tions were  prescribed,  such  as  fasting,  prayer,  and  almsgiving. 
Origen  (as  quoted  by  Friedberg,  p.  209)  states  that  only  for 
manifest  sins  (peccata  evidentia)  were  offenders  cast  out  from 
the  Church — giving  as  the  reason,  lest  the  wheat  be  plucked  up 
with  the  tares.  Towards  the  end  of  the  period,  the  penitential 
system  came  to  recognize  four  classes  of  penitents — weepers, 
hearers,  kneelers,  and  standers  (Jlentes,  audientes,  genujlezi, 
consistentes).  These  were  within  the  pale  of  the  Church  (intra 
ecclesiam)  as  opposed  to  the  excommunicate.  They  were  for- 
bidden certain  forms  of  pleasure,  ornaments  of  dress,  connubial 
intercourse,  etc.,  and  they  were  especially  required  to  devote 
themselves  to  prayer,  almsgiving,  fasting,  etc.  The  usual 
duration  of  this  period  of  penance  was  three  or  four  years, 
though  it  might  be  abbreviated  at  the  will  of  the  Church 
authorities. 

The  schisms  which  broke  out  in  the  Church,  such  as  those  of 


Novatian,  Miletus,  and  the  Donatists,  were  a  revolt  against  a 
tendency  to  relax  the  rigours  of  discipline,  and  arose  for  the 
most  part  over  the  question  of  the  restoration  of  the  lapsed. 
The  N.  African  Church,  led  by  Tertullian,  refused  restoration 
to  those  who  had  denied  the  faith  in  times  of  persecution ; 
Cyprian  at  first  took  the  same  ground,  but  later  receded  from 
it  in  view  of  the  great  number  who  had  given  way  in  the 
Decian-Valerian  persecution,  and  granted  to  the  penitent  the 
communion  in  the  hour  of  death.  The  Roman  Church  was 
lenient  with  this  class  of  offenders. 

The  Synods  which  were  held  at  the  close  of  this  period — 
Elvira,  Aries,  and  Ancvra — passed  severe  disciplinary  canons. 
The  Spanish  Synod  of  Elvira  (see  A.  W.  W.  Dale,  The  Syn.  of 
Elvira,  Lond.  1382)  in  81  canons  punished  with  anathemat- 
ization the  denial  of  the  communion,  and  lesser  penalties. 
Murder,  idolatry,  and  especially  unchastity  have  a  large  place 
given  to  them.  For  example,  a  wife  guilty  of  adultery,  without 
precedent  provocation  given  by  the  husband,  is  denied  com- 
munion even  in  the  hour  of  death.  Those  guilty  of  extrava- 
gance in  dress  may  after  three  years  be  restored  to  the  com- 
munion, and  gamblers  after  one  year.  The  worship  of  idols  by 
a  baptized  adult  is  pronounced  a  crimen  capitale,  and  the 
offender  is  excluded  permanently  from  the  communion. 

4.  From  313  to  1215  (from  Constantine's  edict  of 
toleration  to  the  establishment  of  the  Inquisition). 
—With  the  alliance  of  the  Church  with  the  State, 
a  new  practice  was  developed  in  regard  to  the  treat- 
ment of  ecclesiastical  offences.  The  State  itself 
passed  disciplinary  regulations  for  certain  of  them, 
and  executed  punishments.  Worldly  penalties, 
such  as  confiscation  of  goods,  banishment,  mulcts 
of  money,  death,  and  later  the  loss  of  individual 
freedom,  came  to  be  approved  by  the  Church  as 
penalties  for  offences  within  the  realm  of  religion 
(see  Hinschius,  iv.  803-814 ;  Friedberg,  210 ;  Her- 
genrbther,  546  ff. ).  Carrying  over  to  the  new  order 
the  ideas  which  the  ofhee  of  Pontifex  Maximus 
implied,  Constantino  claimed  authority,  as  uni- 
versal bishop,  over  the  external  affairs  of  the 
Church.  He  and  his  Imperial  successors  exercised 
the  right  not  only  of  proceeding  against  heretics, 
but,  as  in  the  case  of  Theodosius,  of  designating 
who  they  were.  The  Theodosian  code  counted  as 
a  public  crime  every  offence  against  religion,  on 
the  ground  that  such  offences  brought  injury  to 
all  (in  omnium  fertur  injuria  [quoted  by  Fried- 
berg, 209]).  The  following  are  the  chief  steps  in 
the  history  of  Church  discipline  in  this  period  of 
1000  years : 

(1)  As  worldliness  crept  into  the  Church  after 
Constantine's  identification  with  it,  offences  of 
moral  conduct  were  given  less  prominence,  and 
offences  were  emphasized  which  were  committed 
against  the  Church  as  a  corporation  and  against 
its  doctrinal  code  as  formulated  by  the  Councils, 
and  held  by  the  common  opinion  of  the  Church. 

(2)  Constantine  punished  departures  from  the 
Nicene  statement  by  burning  the  books  of  the 
Arians  and  banishing  Arius  himself.  His  sons  at 
one  time  punished  Athanasius  and  his  followers, 
at  another  favoured  them. 

(3)  The  Ecumenical  Councils,  beginning  with 
the  Nicene  (325),  passed,  in  addition  to  their  doc- 
trinal decrees,  canons  providing  rules  of  adminis- 
tration and  discipline.  The  Athanasian  Creed 
pronounced  anathema  upon  those  refusing  its  pre- 
cise definitions  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  and 
excluded  them  from  the  possibility  of  salvation. 

(4)  While  the  Emperors,  from  Gratian  and  Theo- 
dosius to  Justinian,  were  proscribing  paganism  by 
penalties  increasing  to  the  penalty  of  death, 
Imperial  rescripts  were  placing  Christian  heretics 
under  the  civil  ban.  Theodosius  the  Great,  at 
the  close  of  the  4th  cent.,  pronounced  those  who 
held  to  the  Nicene  statement  Catholic  Christians, 
and  all  others  heretics.  In  15  different  enact- 
ments he  deprived  the  latter  of  all  right  to  the 
exercise  of  religious  usages,  excluded  them  from 
civil  office,  and  threatened  them  with  fines,  banish- 
ment, confiscation  of  goods,  and — as  in  the  case  of 
the  Manichseans,  Audians,  and  Quartodecimans — 
with  death. 

(5)  The  code  of  Justinian  not  only  regulated  all 


DISCIPLINE  (Christian) 


717 


kinds  of  ecclesiastical  affairs,  but  in  certain  cases 
gave  even  criminal  jurisdiction  to  the  bishops  (see 
Pfannmiiller,  Die  kirchliche  Gesetzgebung  Jus- 
tinians,  Berlin,  1902,  p.  82  ff.). 

(6)  The  penalty  of  death  was  executed  for  the 
first  time  for  ecclesiastical  offences  at  Treves  in 
385,  when  the  Spanish  bishop  Priscillian  and  six 
others,  including  a  noble  matron  of  Bordeaux, 
were  put  to  death.  All  the  bishops  present  ex- 
cept Theognistes  approved  the  sentence.  Ambrose 
and  Martin  of  Tours  disapproved  of  it,  the  former, 
however,  being  opposed  to  the  death  sentence 
altogether.  Leo  I.  (440-461)  definitely  advocated 
the  death  penalty  for  heretics.  Henceforth  the 
only  parties  to  oppose  it  were  the  dissenting  sects, 
such  as  the  Donatists. 

(7)  Notable  cases  of  discipline  are  not  wanting 
in  the  administration  of  high  ecclesiastics.  Chry- 
sostom  was  deposed  for  rebuking  the  extravagance 
and  vices  of  the  Imperial  court  of  Constantinople 
(404).  Ambrose  excluded  Theodosius  from  the 
church  of  Milan  till  he  had  made  expiation  for 
the  wholesale  execution  in  Thessalonica  (390). 
Synesius  excommunicated  the  governor  of  Penta- 
polis  for  his  merciless  oppressions  (409). 

(8)  The  most  important  influence  on  the  dis- 
cipline of  dissenters  exercised  by  any  churchman 
was  that  of  Augustine.  At  first  inclined  to  re- 
strict discipline  to  spiritual  measures,  he  changed 
front  during  the  controversy  with  the  Donatists. 
Quoting  our  Lord's  words  in  the  parable,  '  Compel 
them  to  come  in,'  he  expounded  them  to  include 
physical  measures.  He  did  not  go  as  far  as 
distinctly  to  advocate  the  penalty  of  death,  but 
his  exposition  became  the  chief  authority  for  the 
Schoolmen,  including  Thomas  Aquinas,  in  favour 
of  the  death  penalty  for  heretics. 

(9)  During  the  7th  and  8th  centuries,  penitential 
codes  came  into  use,  prescribing  penalties  for  all 
sorts  of  offences  against  religion  and  the  Church, 
beginning  with  those  of  Columhan  (t  615),  and 
Theodore  of  Tarsus  (t  690).  A  forerunner  of  these 
writers  was  John  Scholasticus  (t  578),  whose 
Syntagma  with  its  68  canons  was  confirmed  by  the 
Trullan  Synod  of  692.  An  idea  of  the  penances 
prescribed  by  Theodore  of  Tarsus  may  be  formed 
from  one  example.  A  priest  who  drank  to  excess 
and  vomiting  had  to  do  penance  for  30  days,  a 
layman  for  15  days.  False  canonical  codes  were 
referred  to  by  the  Paris  Synod  (829). 

(10)  The  lsidorian  Decretals,  dating  from  the 
middle  of  the  9th  cent.,  authorized  the  Church 
to  take  cognizance  in  her  discipline  not  only  of 
specifically  ecclesiastical  offences  (delicta  mere 
ecclesiastica),  but  also  of  offences  of  a  mixed  char- 
acter (delicta  mixta).  For  certain  Church  digni- 
taries the  decisions  of  the  Church  tribunal  were 
final. 

(11)  Special  legislation  was  enacted  for  clerical 
offences.  Among  the  more  notable  acts  was  the 
so-called  Canonical  Rule  (see  Hatch,  Growth  of 
Ch.  Institutions,  London,  1887,  ch.  ix.).  The 
ministry  had  become  not  only  a  profession,  but 
a  lucrative  profession.  The  clergy  hawked  and 
hunted,  were  extravagant  in  their  retinues,  drank, 
and  committed  other  excesses.  One  of  Charle- 
magne's capitularies  (802)  called  upon  the  clergy 
to  live  'according  to  the  canon.'  Later  a  semi- 
cloistral  mode  of  life  was  introduced  among  them, 
one  reason  given  being  that  the  clergy  thereby 
'  might  avoid  the  company  of  women,  as  at  the 
Roman  Council  of  853. 

(12)  The  Canon  Law  was  definitely  incorporated 
in  the  collections  of  Regino  (t  915),  Burchard  of 
Worms  (t  1025),  Anselm  of  Lucca  (t  1086),  Cardinal 
Deusdedit  (c.  1087),  and  Ivo  of  Chartres  (tlll6). 
These  imperfect  works  gave  way  to  the  monumental 
production  of  the  Camaldulensian  monk,  Gratian, 


who  taught  canon  law  in  the  convent  of  St.  Felix, 
Bologna,  in  the  middle  of  the  12th  century.  His 
work,  whose  original  title  was  Concordantia 
canonum  discordantium,  became  the  manual  in  its 
department,  as  the  Sentences  of  Peter  the  Lombard 
became  the  manual  in  the  department  of  theology. 
It  was  greatly  augmented  with  the  supplements 
added  by  the  Orders  of  Gregory  IX.,  Boniface 
VIII.,  Clement  v.,  and  John  XXII.  Although  full 
of  forgeries  and  errors,  as  has  been  shown  by 
Dollinger  -  Friedrich  (Das  Papstthum,  Munich, 
1892),  it  remained  the  undisputed  code  in  Western 
Christendom  till  the  Reformation,  regulating  life 
from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  Its  decrees  have  in 
part  been  superseded  by  the  canons  and  decrees  of 
the  Council  of  Trent. 

(13)  As  vicar  of  Christ  and  undisputed  head  of 
Latin  Christendom,  the  Pope  became,  as  the  Middle 
Ages  advanced,  the  supreme  disciplinarian,  and 
his  decisions  kept  Christendom,  especially  Eng- 
land, in  a  constant  ferment. 

(14)  The  greater  punishments  which  came  into 
general  use  in  the  Church  were  the  anathema  and 
the  interdict,  to  which  is  to  be  added  suspension 
from  the  priesthood.  Two  forms  of  anathema,  the 
minor  and  the  major,  are  distinguished  by  Wetzer- 
Welte,  quoting  Gregory  IX.,  but  they  differ  only 
in  the  degrees  of  solemnity  with  which  they  are 
pronounced.  The  anathema  excludes  from  the 
communion  and  all  public  services  of  the  Church 
except  preaching,  and  from  all  the  public  suffrages 
of  the  Church,  but  not  necessarily  from  private 
intercessions.  If  the  sentence  still  rests  upon  the 
offender  at  death,  it  excludes  from  burial  in  con- 
secrated ground.  Martin  v.  in  his  Ad  evitanda 
(1418)  made  a  distinction  between  excommunicati 
tolerati  and  excommunicati  vitandi.  From  the 
latter  all  religious  intercourse  whatever  is  to  be 
withheld,  and,  as  far  as  feasible,  all  commercial  deal- 
ing (see  Hergenrbther,  568 ff.).  Perhaps  no  excom- 
munications surpass  in  execration  that  pronounced 
by  Clement  VI.  (1346)  against  Louis  the  Bavarian  : 

1  Let  him  be  damned  in  his  going  out  and  his  coming  in  1 
The  Lord  strike  him  with  madness  and  blindness  and  mental 
insanity  1  May  the  heavens  empty  upon  him  their  thunder- 
bolts, and  the  wrath  of  the  Omnipotent  burn  itself  into  him  in 
the  present  and  the  future  world !  May  the  universe  fight 
against  him,  and  the  earth  open  to  swallow  him  up  alive  ! ' 
(Mirbt,  Quellen  d.  Papstthu,ms%  Tubingen,  1901,  p.  163). 

The  interdict  was  extended  to  a  community  of 
persons  or  territory.  There  are  different  degrees 
of  punishment  involved  in  the  sentence,  but  in 
general  it  involves  the  denial  of  the  sacraments  of 
the  Eucharist,  Ordination,  and  Extreme  Unction, 
public  services  of  the  Church,  and  the  rite  of  burial 
in  sacred  ground.  Among  the  notable  cases  were 
the  interdicts  fulminated  over  Scotland  (1180), 
England  (1208),  the  sacred  cities  of  Rome  by 
Adrian  IV.  (1155),  and  Jerusalem  (1229)  on  the 
occasion  of  the  crusade  of  the  excommunicated 
Emperor,  Frederick  II. 

5.  From  1215  (the  Fourth  Lateran  Council)  to 
the  Council  of  Trent. — There  are  three  important 
points  which  stand  out  in  the  further  history  of 
discipline  before  the  Reformation.  (1)  The  doc- 
trine of  Penance  underwent  a  radical  change  (see 
K.  Miiller,  Der  Umschwung  in  der  Lehre  von  der 
Busse  wahrend  d.  ISten  Jahrh.,  Freib.  1892; 
Schaff,  Oh.  Hist.,  vol.  v.  pt.  i.  p.  729 ff.).  Con- 
fession to  the  priest  and  satisfaction  by  doing  the 
penances  prescribed  by  him  were  made  necessary 
for  absolution.  The  acts  of  satisfaction  are  penal 
acts  which  serve  like  medicines  for  spiritual  wounds, 
and  also  as  a  compensation  to  God  for  offences.  So 
Alexander  of  Hales  and  Thomas  Aquinas  taught. 
The  priest  is  the  judge  of  what  the  act  of  satis- 
faction shall  be.  Among  the  more  notable  cases 
of  public  penance  were  those  of  Henry  II.  after 
Becket's  death,  and  Raymund  of  Toulouse.     This 


.718 


DISCIPLINE  (Christian) 


system  of  discipline  under  the  direction  of  the 
priest  became  obligatory  for  every  Christian  in 
the  world.  The  crusades  offered  a  vast  oppor- 
tunity for  the  exercise  of  Church  discipline  and 
penance. 

(2)  The  tribunal  of  the  Inquisition,  established 
by  Innocent  III.  at  the  12th  Ecumenical  Council 
(1215),  was  intended  to  meet  the  peril  of  heresy 
and  to  extirpate  it.  With  Gregory  the  Great 
(t  604)  heresy  ceased  to  be  known  in  Western 
Europe  for  four  centuries.  At  the  end  of  the  11th 
cent,  slight  traces  of  it  appear  at  Goslar,  Mainz, 
Cologne,  Strassburg,  and  other  places.  They  as 
quickly  disappeared,  but  suddenly  in  the  12th 
cent,  heresy  sprang  up  in  different  parts  of  Europe, 
from  Milan  to  Antwerp,  and  from  the  Pyrenees  to 
Bremen.  In  his  Laws  of  1238,  Frederick  II.  gives  a 
list  of  19  different  heretical  sects.  The  chief  of 
these  were  the  Cathari  and  the  Waldenses.  In  1 163 
a  Synod  of  Toulouse  compared  heretics  to  serpents 
concealing  themselves  in  the  grass.  Innocent  iii.'s 
predecessor,  Lucius  III.,  at  the  Council  of  Verona 
(1184)  joined  with  Frederick  Barbarossain  a  public 
demonstration  in  the  Cathedral,  that  they  would 
make  it  their  common  cause  to  extirpate  heretical 
depravity.  Princes  were  ordered  to  take  an  oath 
to  support  the  Church  in  punishing  offenders,  upon 
pain  of  forfeiting  their  dignities.  The  Synod  of 
Toulouse  (1163)  had  called  upon  princes  to  imprison 
heretics  and  confiscate  their  goods.  The  Third 
Lateran  (1179)  extended  the  punishments  to  de- 
fenders of  heretics.  By  the  third  canon  of  the 
Fourth  Lateran  (1215)  all  princes  were  again  en- 
joined to  swear  to  protect  the  orthodox  faith,  on 
pain  of  losing  their  lands ;  and  to  all  taking  part 
'  in  the  extermination  of  heretics '  was  offered  the 
indulgence  extended  to  the  Crusaders  in  the  Holy 
Land.  All  who  in  any  way  supported  heretics 
were  to  be  excommunicated  and  excluded  from 
receiving  their  natural  inheritance.  This  por- 
tentous organization  was  further  perfected  at  the 
Council  of  Toulouse  (1229),  and  by  Innocent  IV.  in 
his  bull  Ad  exstirpanda  (1252),  which  prescribed 
torture  as  a  means  of  extorting  confession  of 
crime.  No  heretic  was  to  be  punished  till  con- 
victed by  the  ecclesiastical  tribunal,  but,  once 
convicted,  the  secular  arm  was  under  obligation 
to  punish  the  offender  by  destroying  his  domicile 
and  refuge,  even  though  it  were  underground,  by 
confiscating  his  goods,  and  by  putting  him  to 
death.  Innocent  III.  declared  that,  as  treason  was 
punished,  so  much  more  should  punishments  be 
meted  out  to  those  who  committed  the  greater 
crime  of  blasphemy  against  God  and  His  Son. 
Secular  princes  were  to  draw  the  sword  against 
them  (see  quotation  in  Schaff,  Ch.  Hist.,  vol.  v. 
pt.  ii.  p.  518,  together  with  Hurter's  exposition  of 
Innocent's  views).  Innocent  summoned  Christen- 
dom to  a  crusade  against  the  heretics  in  Southern 
France,  promising  'those  who  fought  for  the  soul 
and  for  God '  the  same  rewards  as  he  promised  to 
those  who  ventured  their  lives  to  rescue  the  Holy 
Sepulchre. 

In  vain  is  the  plea  made  that  the  Church  did  not  execute 
heretics  or  immediately  pronounce  the  decree  of  execution. 
It  immured  them  for  life,  and  it  threatened  with  exclusion  from 
the  sacrament  and  from  heaven  princes  and  magistrates  who 
refused  to  execute  the  death  penalty  upon  them.  The  Catholic 
apologist,  Vacandard,  is  compelled  to  say  that  at  times  the 
sacred  tribunal  actually  passed  sentence  of  death.  It  is  strange, 
in  view  of  the  words  of  Popes  and  councils,  that  Catholic 
writers,  like  Ph.  Hergenrother  (Eathol.  Kirchenrecht,  541), 
should  assert  not  only  that  it  is  not  within  the  Church's  pro- 
vince to  execute  the  death  penalty,  but  that  it  cannot  call  upon 
the  State  to  execute  it.  An  inquisitor  like  Bernard  Guy  re- 
presented the  temper  of  his  time  when  he  said  in  his  famous 
manual  that  beresy  could  be  exterminated  only  as  heretics 
were  burnt. 

To  this  extreme  form  of  Church  discipline  the  Schoolmen 
pave  full  theological  justification.  Thomas  Aquinas,  resting 
upon  the  authority  of  Augustine,  asserted  that '  heretics  were 
not  only  to  be  separated  from  the  Church  by  excommunication. 


but  from  the  world  by  death '  (Summa,  n.  pt.  2.  11  [ed.  Migne, 
iii.  109]).  '  As  falsifiers  of  coin  are  to  be  put  to  death,  much 
more  should  they  be  put  to  death  who  are  guilty  of  the  more 
wicked  act  of  corrupting  the  faith.  The  heretic  the  Church 
delivers  over  to  the  secular  tribunal  to  be  put  out  of  the 
world.' 

The  Spanish  Inquisition,  formally  sanctioned  by 
Sixtus  IV.  (1478)  and  accepted  by  his  successors  in 
its  essential  features,  is  even  more  noted  in  history 
for  its  ingenious  devices  and  severity  in  disciplining 
heretics  than  the  papal  tribunal  established  in 
1215.  Pastor  and  Funk  both  agree,  as  against 
Hefele,  that  it  was  primarily  not  a  State  institu- 
tion, but  the  creation  of  the  Pope  (Schaff,  Ch.  Hist., 
vol.  v.  pt.  ii.  p.  539  ff). 

(3)  The  third  important  chapter  in  the  history 
of  Church  discipline  in  this  period  was  the  famous 
assertion  of  Boniface  VIII.,  in  the  bull  Unam 
sanctam  (1302),  that  both  swords  are  in  the  hands 
of  the  Pope,  and  that  it  is  altogether  necessary 
to  salvation  to  be  obedient  to  the  Roman  pontiff. 
This  assertion,  confirmed  by  Leo  X.  on  the  very 
eve  of  the  Protestant  Reformation,  sufficiently 
justifies  the  Church  in  the  use  of  any  means 
whatsoever  that  it  may  select  to  carry  on  its 
work  and  maintain  its  authority.  Down  to  the 
14th  cent.,  the  theory  had  been  that  the  Church's 
jurisdiction  stops  with  those  who  are  baptized  by 
its  ritual.  But  papal  pamphleteers,  after  the  death 
of  Boniface  VIII.,  like  Augustinus  Triumphus 
(t  1328),  extended  it  to  the  whole  heathen  world. 
A  voice  as  if  proclaiming  a  new  era,  Marsilius  of 
Padua,  in  his  Defensor  pads  (1324),  argued  that  the 
disciplinary  prerogative  of  the  Church  was  only 
suasive,  not  penal.  But  the  Church  did  not  listen 
to  him,  and  the  Council  of  Constance  (1415)  re- 
affirmed the  doctrine  that  heretics  should  be 
burnt  ( '  puniendi  usque  ad  ignem '),  and  carried 
out  the  affirmation  in  the  sentences  against  Hus 
and  Jerome  of  Prague  and  the  bones  of  Wyclif. 
The  papal  crusades  against  the  Cathari  were  re- 
peated against  the  Hussites,  and  Savonarola  was 
burnt  with  the  approbation  of  Pope  Alexander  VI. 
One  of  the  charges  made  by  Leo  X.  against  Luther 
was  that  he  asserted  that  it  was  against  the  will 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  that  heretics  should  be  burnt. 

The  Council  of  Trent  nowhere  mentions  the 
penalty  of  death  for  heretics,  but  neither  it  nor 
any  Pope  since  has  expressly  rejected  the  severe 
disciplinary  policy  exercised  by  the  Church  for 
centuries.  The  disciplinary  element  in  penance 
was  re-affirmed  by  the  Council  of  Trent,  even  to 
the  use  of  indulgences. 

6.  The  Reformers  and  the  Protestant  Churches. 
— Three  things,  made  prominent  by  the  Reformers, 
were  adapted  to  reduce  the  value  of  Church  dis- 
cipline and  to  limit  the  application  of  a  discip- 
linary code :  (1)  the  principle  emphasizing  the 
immediate  responsibility  of  the  Christian  to  God  ; 
(2)  the  authority  of  Scripture  as  the  supreme  rule 
of  life  ;  (3)  the  insistence  upon  preaching  as  the 
chief  element  in  the  power  of  the  keys — a  view 
which  passed  into  the  Augsburg  (Schaff,  Creeds, 
iii.  59)  and  other  Protestant  Confessions.  Instruc- 
tion and  persuasion  through  the  sermon  were  de- 
stined, to  a  considerable  extent,  to  take  the  place 
of  punitive  discipline.  Another  consideration 
adapted  to  limit  the  application  of  discipline  was 
the  abolition  of  the  confessional,  and  the  substi- 
tution of  repentance  of  heart  for  penance  with  its 
system  of  outward  satisfactions  imposed  by  the 
priest.  There  was  a  wide  divergence  between  the 
Lutheran  and  the  Calvinistic  Reformations  in 
the  prominence  given  to  discipline,  growing  out  of 
the  attitude  of  Luther  and  Calvin  respectively. 
Luther  had  no  genius  for  administration,  and  felt 
little  confidence  in  discipline.  Calvin  was  a  born 
administrator,  and  in  theory  advanced  discipline 
to  almost  as  high  a  place  as  it  had  held  in  the 


DISCIPLINE  (Christian) 


719 


mediaeval  Church,  but  with  a  wide  difference   in 
practice. 

(1)  The  Lutheran  Church. — Luther  was  inclined 
to  be  satisfied  with  preaching,  Christian  instruc- 
tion, and  the  dispensation  of  the  two  sacraments 
as  the  means  for  preserving  the  purity  of  the 
Church  and  extending  her  influence.  He  had 
little  to  say  about  discipline  as  a  system,  and 
never  set  forth  a  clear  theory  of  the  relation  of 
Church  and  State.  He  was  violent  enough  in  his 
judgments  against  the  Anabaptists,  Miinzer,  and 
the  Protestant  anarchists,  and  against  the  Swiss, 
but  he  never  worked  out  a  system  of  discipline. 
The  Augsburg  Confession  (pt.  II.  art.  vii.)  con- 
demns the  '  violent  excommunications '  of  pontiff's, 
and  their  attempt  to  take  from  Emperors  their 
prerogatives  and  transfer  them  to  themselves.  It 
insists  that  the  two  powers  are  not  to  be  con- 
founded, and  at  the  same  time  that  the  Church 
in  her  own  sphere  is  sovereign.  The  exercise  of 
her  rightful  power  no  more  interferes  with  civil 
government  than  the  art  of  singing  does.  The 
Schmalkald  Articles  (iii.  9)  reject  the  major  ex- 
communication, but  retain  the  minor,  which  is  to 
be  used  against  manifest  sinners,  excluding  them 
from  the  Lord's  Table  till  they  give  proof  of 
amendment.  This  power  of  excommunication  in- 
heres in  the  body  of  the  Church.  Later  in  the 
16th  cent,  it  was  left  to  the  Lutheran  consistories, 
the  pastor  having  only  the  prerogative  of  an- 
nouncing the  sentence.  In  the  17th  cent,  there 
was  a  movement  to  establish  or  re-establish  a 
system  of  discipline  by  J.  V.  Andrese,  who  had 
been  in  Geneva,  the  younger  Quistorp  of  Rostock, 
and  others,  by  the  appointment  of  a  body  of 
elders  for  each  congregation.  Spener  also  wrote 
of  discipline  as  a  possible  means  of  reviving  piety. 
These  suggestions  came  to  nothing.  At  the  pre- 
sent time  the  State  exercises  so  large  an  authority 
in  appointing  ministers  and  enforcing  baptism 
that  discipline  is  almost  a  lost  art  in  the  German 
Lutheran  Churches. 

(2)  The  Reformed  Churches. — (a)  Zwingli  and 
CEcolampadius  left  the  right  of  excommunication 
to  the  State.  In  Zurich  the  Reformation  was 
carried  out  by  the  magistrates  ;  and  heretics  and 
Anabaptists  were  executed.  Zwingli,  so  far  as  we 
know,  did  not  protest  against  this  punishment. 
The  First  Helvetic  Confession  provides  for  excom- 
munication and  for  reinstatement  in  case  of  re- 
pentance ;  but,  without  making  a  clear  distinction 
between  the  two  realms,  puts  the  authority  to 
pass  sentence  in  the  hands  of  those  '  who  are  ap- 
pointed thereto  by  the  servants  of  the  Word  and 
the  Christian  magistracy.'  The  State  is  to  take 
positive  measures  to  root  out  blasphemy  and 
punish  blasphemers,  and  to  promote  the  spread 
of  the  principles  preached  in  the  pulpit.  The 
Second  Helvetic  Confession  (xxx.  [Schaff,  Creeds, 
iii.  305  f.])  makes  it  the  duty  of  the  civil  magis- 
trate '  to  defend  the  Church  of  God  and  the  preach- 
ing of  the  truth,  to  cut  out  all  impiety,  super- 
stition, and  idolatry,  .to  draw  the  sword  against 
all  malefics  and  blasphemers,  and  to  coerce  all 
heretics  who  are  heretics  indeed.' 

(b)  The  practice  of  the  large  body  of  the  Re- 
formed Churches  was  determined  by  Calvin's  treat- 
ment in  his  Institutes  (bk.  iv.  ch.  12)  and  by  the 
Genevan  code,  the  Ecclesiastical  Ordinances,  which 
were  largely  the  work  of  Calvin's  hand.  It  must 
not  be  overlooked  that  in  minor  particulars  the 
execution  of  the  Genevan  legislation  differs  from 
Calvin's  theory  as  laid  down  in  his  Institutes. 
Calvin's  carefully  arranged  form  of  Church  govern- 
ment involved  a  rigid  discipline.  He  proceeded 
on  the  principle  that  '  no  house  can  be  preserved 
in  proper  condition  without  discipline.  Other- 
wise Christians  would  live  like  rats  in  the  straw. 


Discipline  is  the  only  remedy  against  a  dreadful 
desolation  in  the  Church.  Its  purpose  is  three- 
fold— to  keep  the  Church  in  a  sound  condition,  to 
protect  its  members  against  taint,  and  to  bring 
the  ofl'ender,  if  possible,  to  repentance.  Follow- 
ing closely  on  Mt  1816ff-,  admonition  precedes  ex- 
communication, which  is  the  last  resort  of  the 
ecclesiastical  power.  Calvin  declared  that,  as 
sound  teaching  is  the  soul  of  the  Church,  so  dis- 
cipline is  its  sinews  (disciplina  pro  nervis  est).  The 
elders,  twelve  in  number,  appointed  from  the 
Little  Council,  were  expected  to  live  in  different 
parts  of  Geneva,  in  order  that  they  might  the 
better  perform  their  functions  as  overseers.  It 
was  their  duty  to  watch  over  the  moral  and  re- 
ligious fidelity  of  the  people,  and  to  make  at  least 
once  a  year  a  visitation  of  every  household.  With 
the  pastors  they  constituted  the  consistory,  which 
met  once  a  week  and  sat  upon  complaints  made 
against  high  and  low.  They  fixed  penalties  for 
offenders,  such  as  payments  of  money  for  non- 
attendance  at  Church.  Greater  offenders  were 
turned  over  to  the  civil  power  for  punishment. 
Watchmen  were  appointed  to  report  persons  who 
failed  to  go  to  Church.  This  system  has  been 
likened  by  Catholic  historians  (e.g.  Funk,  Kirchen- 
gesch.1,  1902,  p.  438)  to  the  tribunal  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion. Calvin's  theory  of  the  relation  of  State  and 
Church  cannot  be  discussed  here.  It  is  evident, 
however,  that,  in  abandoning  the  mediaeval  mis- 
take whereby  the  Church  arrogated  to  itself 
authority  over  the  State,  he  went  too  far  in  the 
other  direction  to  suit  our  modern  ideas.  He  was 
right  in  declaring  that  ministers  must  confine 
themselves  to  the  spiritual  sword,  which  is  the 
word  of  God  (Inst.  IV.  ii.  4).  The  State  he  treated 
as  a  Christian  institution  established  to  defend 
the  Church,  and  to  punish  religious  as  well  as 
political  and  moral  offences.  Thus  not  only  sedi- 
tion and  adultery  were  punished  by  death  in 
Geneva,  but  also  blasphemy,  heresy,  and  idolatry, 
the  justification  for  such  punishments  being  de- 
rived from  the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  The 
most  notable  of  the  many  condemnations  was  the 
burning  of  Servetus  upon  the  two  charges  of 
blasphemy  against  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  and 
insulting  reprobation  of  infant  baptism.  Calvin 
himself  acted  as  prosecutor.  The  Reformer,  how- 
ever, seems  to  have  had  some  idea  of  the  co- 
ordinate relation  of  the  two  realms,  and  insisted, 
at  the  risk  of  his  life,  upon  excommunication  as 
the  sole  prerogative  of  the  Church.  In  the  famous 
case  of  the  excommunicated  Berthelier  (1553),  who 
had  been  reinstated  by  the  civil  authority  in  the 
church,  Calvin  declared  that  he  would  die  rather 
than  acknowledge  the  principle  of  State  inter- 
ference. 

(e)  The  Protestant  Church  of  France,  adapting 
itself  to  its  position  in  the  State,  adopted  Calvin's 
discipline  in  a  modified  form,  but  also  declared  that 
the  magistrates  are  appointed  of  God  to  suppress 
crimes  against  the  first  as  well  as  against  the  second 
table  of  the  Decalogue  (Gallicar,  Conf.  xxxix.). 

(d)  The  Anglican  Thirty-Nine  Articles  com- 
mended excommunication  (xxxiii.),  but  are  not 
clear  in  defining  the  tribunal  before  which  a 
person  should  come  before  being  received  back 
into  the  communion  of  the  Church,  the  words 
running  '  received  into  the  Church  by  a  judge  that 
hath  authority  thereunto.'  By  virtue  of  the  sup- 
reme headship  of  the  Church  in  England  inhering 
in  the  sovereign,  discipline  for  Church  offences 
was  exercised  by  the  civil  authority.  This  prin- 
ciple was  not  combated  by  the  Puritan  party  in 
Elizabeth's  reign,  but  only  the  application  of  it 
whereby  they  suffered  for  disobedience  to  the  Act 
of  Uniformity. 

(e)  In  Scotland  and  among  the  Puritan  churches 


720 


DISCIPLINE  (Jewish) 


the  rigorous  discipline  of  Geneva  found  its  most 
genial  soil,  so  that  Puritanism  and  Presbyterian - 
ism  are  synonymous,  in  the  popular  mind  not  only 
with  severity  of  Christian  living,  hut  with  severity 
of  censure  upon  those  who  depart  in  faith  or 
ethical  practice  from  the  accepted  standard.  The 
Scottish  symbols,  and  the  Westminster  standards 
which  took  their  place  after  1648,  alike  enunciate 
the  close  relation  between  Church  and  State 
whereby  the  State  punishes  a  certain  class  of 
religious  offences,  and  also  lay  great  stress  upon 
strict  supervision  over  the  lives  of  Church  mem- 
bers and  a  rigorous  system  of  censure.  The  Book 
of  Common  Order  and  the  First  Book  of  Discipline, 
as  well  as  the  Form  of  Government  and  Directory 
of  Worship  of  the  Westminster  Assembly,  state 
at  length  the  rules  of  judicature  and  of  trial.  To 
these  is  to  be  added  the  Order  of  Excommunication 
and  of  Public  Repentance,  commanded  to  be 
printed  by  the  Scottish  Assembly  in  1569  (see 
Dunlop,  ii.  701-745).  Knox,  the  faithful  disciple 
of  Calvin,  laid  down  in  the  Scottish  Confession  of 
1560  the  principle  of  the  relation  of  Church  and 
State,  when  he  declared  that  to  civil  rulers 
'  chiefly  and  most  principally  the  conservation 
and  purgation  of  religion  appertains,'  and  that 
they  are  appointed  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
true  religion  and  for  suppressing  idolatry.  This 
principle  was  fully  embodied  in  the  Westminster 
Confession  (xxiii.),  which  declares  it  to  be  the 
duty  of  the  civil  magistrate  to  '  take  order  that 
unity  and  peace  be  preserved  in  the  Church.'  He 
'  hath  power  to  call  synods  and  to  provide  that 
whatsoever  is  transacted  in  them  be  according  to 
the  Word  of  God.'  This  principle  was  carried  out 
in  the  relation  which  the  Assembly  sustained  to 
Parliament.  One  of  the  main  complaints  of  the 
Millenary  Petition  in  1603  concerned  Church  dis- 
cipline. The  petitioners  begged  '  that  men  be 
not  excommunicated  for  trifles  and  twelve-penny 
matters  '  (see  Gee  and  Hardy,  Documents,  London, 
1896,  p.  509  ff.). 

To  the  subject  of  the  Church's  exercise  of  dis- 
cipline by  its  own  tribunal,  the  Westminster  Confes- 
sion devotes  a  whole  chapter  (xxx.),  and  prescribes 
three  forms  of  punishment — admonition,  suspen- 
sion from  the  Lord's  Supper  for  a  time,  and  ex- 
communication from  the  Church.  The  reasons  for 
the  exercise  of  discipline  are  given  in  a  more 
quaint  and  attractive  form  by  Knox  in  the  Book 
of  Common  Order  (ch.  vii.),  and  in  the  Order  of 
Excommunication  (ch.  iii.).  In  the  latter  it  is 
stated  '  that,  as  it  would  be  a  work  both  un- 
charitable and  cruel  to  join  together  in  one  bed 
persons  infected  with  pestilent  and  other  contagi- 
ous and  infective  sores,  with  tender  children  or 
such  as  were  sound,  so  it  is  no  less  cruelty  to  suffer 
amongst  the  flock  of  Christ  such  obstinate  rebels 
.  .  .,  for  a  little  leaven  corrupteth  the  whole  mass.' 

Offences  coming  before  the  Church  court  for 
censure  are  enumerated  in  the  Scottish  Book  of 
Discipline  (ch.  ix.),  and  include  'accursed  papis- 
terie,  which  exposed  those  who  were  infected  with 
it  to  excommunication.  This  is  reasserted  in  the 
Order  of  Excommunication  (Dunlop,  709).  The 
Kirk-session,  consisting  of  the  minister  and  elders, 
meeting  once  a  week,  had  as  one  of  its  functions 
to  determine  and  judge  causes  and  administer 
admonition  to  licentious  livers,  for  '  by  the  gravity 
of  the  seniors,  the  light  and  unbridled  life  of  the 
licentious  must  be  corrected  and  bridled '  (First 
Bk.  of  Disc.  x.).  The  sentence  of  excommunica- 
tion was  to  be  announced  by  the  minister  in  the 
public  audience  of  the  people  in  the  words  : 

'  We  having:  place  in  tHe  ministry  .  .  .  draw  the  sword 
granted  by  God  to  His  Church,  that  is,  to  excommunicate  from 
the  society  of  Christ  Jesus,  from  His  body  the  Church,  from 
participation  of  sacraments  and  prayer  with  the  same,  the 
Baid  N.' 


( / )  In  America,  during  the  Colonial  period, 
the  discipline  within  the  Churches  of  Puritan  and 
Presbyterian  lineage  was  strict,  and  throughout 
the  colonies,  even  in  New  Amstei  dam  under  Peter 
Stuyvesant,  the  magistrate  joined  in  exercising 
oversight  over  strictly  ecclesiastical  affairs.  The 
notable  exception  was  Rhode  Island,  founded  by 
Roger  Williams,  who  before  his  banishment  denied 
the  right  of  the  civil  authority  to  punish  offences 
against  the  first  table,  and  who  in  his  exile  gave 
memorable  expression  to  the  principle  of  religious 
liberty.  In  the  New  England  colonies,  especially 
Massachusetts,  the  close  alliance  of  Church  and 
State  involved  not  only  such  acts  as  the  calling  of 
synods  by  the  legislature  and  the  collecting  of 
taxes  for  the  support  of  the  Established  Church, 
but  acts  of  Church  discipline  culminating  in  the 
banishments  of  Anne  Hutchison  (1638)  and  Roger 
Williams  (1636),  the  public  execution  of  four 
Quakers  (1659-61)  in  Boston,  and  the  execution 
of  nineteen  persons  accused  of  witchcraft  in  1692. 
With  the  adoption  of  the  American  Constitution, 
the  Churches,  including  the  American  Presby- 
terian Assembly  (1789),  adopted  modifications  of 
their  constitutions,  making  them  conform  to  the 
principle  of  the  complete  separation  of  Church  and 
State.  The  Assembly  of  that  year  altered  in  a 
fundamental  way  ch.  xxx.  of  the  Westminster 
Confession.  For  similar  modifications  by  British 
Presbyterian  Churches,  see  art.  Confessions,  in 
vol.  iii.  p.  878a. 

In  recent  times  the  tendency  among  Churches 
using  the  English  tongue  is  to  forego  as  far  as 
possible  the  right  of  discipline,  preferring  to  trust 
almost  wholly  to  the  effect  of  the  public  exposition 
of  the  truth  from  the  pulpit  and  to  the  conscience 
of  the  church-member.  There  is  also  a  tendency 
to  avoid  the  exercise  of  discipline  upon  ministers 
of  the  gospel  in  the  matter  of  doctrinal  belief. 
The  recent  trials  of  Professor  William  Robertson 
Smith  in  Scotland  (1877-81)  and  Professors  Charles 
Briggs  and  Henry  Preserved  Smith  in  the  United 
States  (1892-94),  and  their  exclusion  for  supposed 
heretical  views,  awakened  wide-spread  attention, 
and  have  raised  the  serious  question  how  far 
liberty  of  opinion  should  be  tolerated  in  a  minister 
when  it  is  accompanied  by  devotion  to  Christ  and 
the  interests  of  His  Church. 

Literature. — P.  SchafF,  Creeds  of  Christendom5,  3  vols., 
N.Y.  1887  ;  E.  F.  K.  Muller,  Bekenntnisschriften  der  reform. 
Eirche,  Leipzig,  1903 ;  W.  Dunlop,  Collection  of  Confessions, 
etc.,  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  2  vols.,  Edin.  1719,  1722 ;  the 
Directories  of  Worship  and  Manuals  of  Ch.  Government  of 
different  Churches ;  works  on  eccles.  law,  by  P.  Hinschius 
(Berlin,  1869  ff.),  E.  Friedberg6  (Leipzig,  1903),  P.  Hergen- 
rSther  (Freiburg  i.  Br.  1888  [R.  Cath.J),  etc. ;  works  on  the 
penitential  discipline,  by  Frank  (Mainz,  1868),  Green  (London, 
1872),  etc. ;  on  the  Inquisition,  by  Lea  (Hist,  of  Inquisition  in 
the  Mid.  Ages,  3  vols.,  N.Y.  1888  ;  Hist,  of  Span.  Inquisition, 
4  vols.,  do.  1908);  Vacandard  (Lond.  1908);  on  Indulgences, 
by  Beringer13  (Paderborn,  1907),  and  Brieger,  in  his  art. 
PRE*  ix.  (76-94);  artt.  in  Wetzer-Welte  and  PRES  on 
1  Anathema,'  '  Bann,'  '  Busse,'  and  '  Kirchenzucht f ;  Church 
Histories,  esp.  P.  SchafF,  Edin.  1888-93,  i.  601  ff.,  ii.  170 ff., 
262ff.,  iii.  133ff.,  356 ff.,  iv.  347ff.,  371ff.,  v.  pt.  i.  pp.  46Sff., 
700ff.,  764ff.,  pt.  ii.  pp.  598  ff.,  756  ff.,  vii.  484  ff.  ;  also  Lives 
of  Calvin  by  Kampschulte  (Leipzig,  1899),  Walker  (N.Y. 
1906),  etc.,  and  of  Knox,  by  McCrie  (new  ed.,  1889),  Cowan 

(n.y.  1905),  etc.  David  S.  Schaff. 

DISCIPLINE  (Jewish).— The  State  under  the 
Mosaic  system  being  a  theocracy,  every  offence 
was  necessarily  ecclesiastical,  and  its  punishment 
a  disciplinary  measure.  Besides  the  compulsory 
sin-offering  (Lv  4lfl-),  the  penalties  imposed  by  the 
Pentateuch  are  fines,  loss  of  property,  flagellation, 
'excision'  (Gn  1714,  etc.),  and  death.  But,  among 
the  offences  of  which  Mosaism  takes  cognizance, 
some  are  ecclesiastical  in  the  stricter  sense.  They 
are,  chiefly,  idolatry,  sacrilege,  the  appropriation 
of  holy  things,  and  the  ministration  of  a  priest 
when  in  a  state  of  Levitical  impurity.     A  priest's 


DISCIPLINE  (Jewish) 


721 


daughter,  moreover,  who  gave  herself  to  prostitu- 
tion was  regarded  as  '  profaning  her  father,'  and 
was  to  be  burnt  to  death  (Lv  21").  The  uninten- 
tional trespasser  in  the  matter  of  holy  things  had 
to  make  full  restitution  to  the  sanctuary,  and  to 
pay  an  additional  fifth  of  the  value  (Lv  514ff-). 
Death  was  the  penalty  for  sacrilege  (Nu  lsl,  etc.) ; 
and  the  defiled  priest  had  to  wait  until  the  evening, 
and  then  bathe,  before  resuming  the  duties  of  his 
office  (Lv  22°).  Those  who  disobeyed  imperilled 
their  lives  (ib.).  A  notable  instance  of  sacrilege 
being  thus  punished  is  that  of  Nadab  and  Abihu 
(Lv  10lff-)-  The  Israelite  who  ate  leavened  bread  at 
the  Passover,  or  consulted  wizards,  was  punished 
with  'excision'  (Ex  1216,  Lv  206) ;  the  Sabbath- 
breaker  was  stoned  (Nu  1532ff-) ;  the  worshipper  of 
Molech  was  liable  both  to  'excision'  and  to  the 
death  penalty  (Lv  202'-). 

A  totally  different  kind  of  discipline  was  the 
self-imposed  austerity  of  the  Nazirite,  who,  in 
virtue  of  his  vow,  abstained  from  wine  and  strong 
drink,  remained  unshaven,  and  conformed  to  the 
laws  of  Levitical  purity  in  all  their  rigour  (Nu  6lfr-). 

For  the  purpose  of  stamping  out  idolatry  the 
theory  of  the  ban  was  brought  into  use.  A  person, 
animal,  or  thing,  set  apart  or  devoted  to  God,  was 
known  as  herem,  i.e.  banned,  or  tabu,  and  could 
not  be  sold  or  redeemed  (Lv  2728ff-).  Idolatrous 
emblems  and  the  cities  of  the  seven  Canaanite 
nations,  with  their  inhabitants  and  contents,  were 
herem,  and  were  to  be  destroyed  (Dt  234  36  7B,  Jos 
617).  He  who  appropriated  'devoted  things' was, 
so  to  speak,  infected,  and  became  herem  in  his 
turn  ;  he  incurred  the  death  penalty  (Dt  726,  Jos  725). 
A  like  doom  overtook  the  idolatrous  Israelite 
(Dt  136ff-)-  Idolatrous  Israelitish  cities,  with  their 
spoil,  were  to  be  burnt,  and  the  cities  to  remain 
an  everlasting  ruin  (Dt  1312ff-). 

By  the  time  of  Ezra  disciplinary  practice  had 
become  much  less  severe.  Ezra  invokes  a  general 
assembly  of  the  Jews  in  order  that  they  may  purge 
themselves  from  the  evil  of  intermarriage  with 
their  idolatrous  neighbours  ;  the  property  of  those 
■who  refuse  to  attend  is  to  be  'devoted,'  and  they 
themselves  '  separated  from  the  congregation ' 
(Ezr  10™-).  There  is  no  question  here  of  a  death 
penalty,  and  the  use  of  the  comparatively  mild 
term  '  separated '  indicates  a  mitigation  of  disci- 
plinary rigour.  Ezra's  action,  however,  seems  to 
be  a  connecting  link  between  the  Pentateuchal 
procedure  and  the  system  of  excommunication  of 
the  Talmudic  regime.  Under  that  system  the 
term  herem  changes  its  meaning,  and  now  signifies 
ths  ban,  not  the  thing  banned.  It  is  the  technical 
term  for  excommunication,  the  most  formidable 
weapon  of  the  Jewish  Church. 

Excommunication,  however,  though  the  chief, 
was  not  the  only  disciplinary  measure  in  use 
among  the  Jews.  The  voluntary  asceticism  of  the 
Nazirite  had  its  counterparts  in  post-Biblical  times. 
Thus  a  man  would  take  a  vow,  even  registering  it 
in  a  deed,  to  abstain,  for  a  term  or  for  life,  from 
certain  forms  of  self-indulgence.  Gambling  was  a 
favourite  subject  of  such  a  vow.  The  penalty  for 
violation  of  the  vow  was  often  severe,  extending 
even  to  bodily  mutilation.  Another  self-imposed 
penance  was  fasting.  A  man  would  bind  himself 
to  fast  on  certain  days  of  the  week  either  for  a 
definite  period  or  for  life.  Further,  the  mediaeval 
community  or  congregation  would  make  enact- 
ments (t'kanOth)  against  various  offences,  dis- 
obedience to  which  was  punished  by  fines,  exclusion 
from  synagogal  office,  or  refusal  of  the  privilege  of 
reading  from  the  scroll  of  the  Pentateuch  during 
service,  or  of  participation  in  some  other  religious 
rite.  The  imposition  of  a  fine  on  the  elder  DTsraeli 
by  the  Spanish  and  Portuguese  congregation  in 
London  was  the  immediate  cause  of  his  withdrawal 
VOL.  iv. — 46 


from  the  synagogue.  Disobedience  to  a  t'lpana 
might  also  be  visited  with  imprisonment  (the  Jews 
often  had  their  own  prisons  in  the  Middle  Ages). 
An  offender  might  be  denied  Jewish  burial,  or  his 
body  consigned  to  a  special  section  of  the  cemetery 
set  apart  for  notorious  evil-doers.  Sentence  of 
death  was  also  passed  upon  flagrant  transgressors, 
more  particularly  upon  informers.  The  execution 
of  the  sentence  in  such  cases  necessarily  required 
the  consent  of  the  Government,  by  whose  officials 
it  was  carried  into  effect.  Another  disciplinary 
expedient  was  public  denunciation  in  the  synagogue, 
recourse  to  which  was  sometimes  had  in  the  case 
of  the  most  venial  offences — for  extravagance  in 
dress,  for  example,  on  the  part  of  women.  Never- 
theless excommunication  continued  to  be  the  most 
effective  disciplinary  agent  of  the  synagogue  for 
2000  years. 

The  ban  of  the  Synagogue  falls  under  three 
categories,  known  respectively  as  n'zifa,  niddHi, 
and  herein.  The  first  lasted  seven,  the  second 
thirty  days.  In  Babylonia  the  periods  were  one 
day  and  seven  days  respectively.  N'zifa  was  the 
penalty  for  slight  offences,  especially  insult  to  the 
religious  authorities.  As  regards  niddui,  the  ban 
was  removed  at  the  termination  of  the  prescribed 
period  if  the  offender  made  due  submission,  the 
formula  being :  '  Thou  art  absolved ;  thou  art 
forgiven.'  If  he  was  recalcitrant,  the  punishment 
was  renewed  for  a  second  and  a  third  period.  If 
he  was  still  contumacious,  excommunication  in  the 
third  degree  (herem)  was  pronounced,  which  con- 
tinued for  an  indefinite  period,  but  might  be 
revoked  at  the  will  of  the  authorities.  Before 
sentence  was  pronounced,  the  culprit  was  thrice 
publicly  exhorted  to  submission  and  repentance  in 
the  synagogue,  on  Monday  and  on  the  following 
Thursday  and  Monday,  those  being  the  days  when 
the  Law  was  read  and  the  congregation  was 
numerous.  When  this  exhortation  proved  unavail- 
ing, the  ban  was  pronounced  in  the  offender's 
presence  with  the  words:  'N.N.  is  excommuni- 
cated ' ;  or,  in  his  absence,  with  the  words  :  '  Let 
N.N.  be  excommunicated'  (cf.  the  expression 
'  anathema  maranatha '  in  1  Co  1622,  the  second 
word  of  which  is  perhaps  a  corrupt  reading  for 
muhram  'atta,  '  thou  art  excommunicated ').  Those 
on  whom  n'zifa  was  pronounced  were  compulsorily 
confined  to  their  houses,  and  forbidden  to  engage 
in  business  or  pleasure.  Those  under  niddui  were 
forbidden  all  social  intercourse  save  with  their 
wives  and  children.  They  could  not  make  up  the 
quorum  for  public  worship  (minyan),  but  they 
might  attend  the  synagogue  for  prayer  and  listen 
to  religious  discourses.  They  had  to  wear  mourn- 
ing, and  were  forbidden  to  bathe,  to  cut  their  hair, 
or  to  wear  shoes.  It  is  said  that  there  was  a  special 
entrance  into  the  Temple  reserved  for  excommuni- 
cated persons,  and  men  greeted  them  as  mourners. 
If  herem  were  pronounced,  the  offender  might  not 
teach  ;  nor  might  he  be  supplied  with  food  beyond 
what  was  required  for  bare  sustenance.  His  wife 
might  be  excluded  from  public  worship  and  his 
children  from  school.  If  his  offence  was  heresy, 
and  he  died  impenitent,  no  funeral  rites  might  be 
performed  for  him,  and  a  stone  was  placed  on  his 
coffin. 

The  offences  punishable  by  niddHi  are  drawn 
from  every  department  of  the  religious  and  ethical 
domain.  Maimonides  [Hilkoth  Talmud  Torah,  6. 14) 
enumerates  twenty-four  examples  drawn  from  the 
Talmud  ;  but  his  list  is  obviously  not  exhaustive. 
A  few  typical  examples  may  be  given  :  desecrating 
the  second  day  of  the  festival  (though  it  is  a  purely 
Eabbinical  institution) ;  unnecessary  use  of  the 
Divine  Name ;  ill-treatment  of  children  by  the 
parent,  so  that  they  are  made  to  break  the  command 
'Thou  shalt  honour  thy  father  and  thy  mother' ; 


722 


DISCIPLINE  (Jewish) 


the  neglect  by  a  slaughterer  of  cattle  (shdhfy)  to 
show  his  knife  to  his  Rabbi  so  that  it  may  be 
declared  fit  for  its  purpose  on  ritual  and  humani- 
tarian grounds ;  business  partnership  between  a 
divorced  couple ;  selling  to  a  Gentile  land  im- 
mediately adjoining  the  property  of  another  Jew 
without  indemnifying  the  latter  for  consequent 
injury. 

Probably  owing  to  the  example  of  the  Church, 
excommunication  among  the  Jews  became  more 
drastic  and  more  far-reaching  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
The  catalogue  of  offences  visited  with  the  penalty 
was  enlarged,  the  disabilities  it  imposed  increased 
in  number,  and  the  right  of  pronouncing  it  extended 
from  the  Rabbinical  authority  to  the  congregation 
(kclhal).  Synods  met  at  various  times  to  formulate 
new  ecclesiastical  rules,  all  of  which  were  enforced 
by  the  threat  of  excommunication.  Thus  the 
famous  Synod  of  Worms,  convoked  in  the  11th 
cent,  by  R.  Gershon  of  Mayence,  declared  polygamy 
forbidden,  and  placed  under  the  ban  those  who 
disobeyed  this  decision.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
offences  denounced  by  the  congregation  were  often 
trivial,  and  resort  to  excommunication  in  their  case 
was  less  justifiable.  Thus  the  penalty  became  a 
terrible  engine  of  oppression  in  the  hands  of  ill- 
instructed  men,  who  were  free  to  give  effect  to 
their  own  ideas  of  right  and  wrong,  unrestrained 
by  the  moderating  influence  of  trained  and  educated 
minds.  The  decrees  of  excommunication  pronounced 
by  the  congregation  operated  within  the  entire 
district  over  which  it  exercised  jurisdiction,  and, 
until  formally  repealed,  through  all  generations. 
They  followed  the  offenders  even  after  they  had 
severed  themselves  from  the  congregation  and  had 
removed  to  another  district. 

In  some  of  its  features  the  Jewish  ritual  of 
excommunication  in  the  mediasval  period  bore  a 
close  likeness  to  that  adopted  by  the  Church. 
The  excommunicated  person,  if  his  case  was  a  bad 
one,  was  literally  banned  '  with  bell,  book,  and 
candle.'  Led  into  the  synagogue,  he  was  placed 
beside  the  reader,  who  stood  at  the  ark ,  the  most 
sacred  part  of  the  building,  with  a  scroll  of  the 
Pentateuch  in  his  arms.  Inflated  bladders  were 
placed  on  a  bier,  candles  were  lighted,  and  sack- 
cloth and  ashes  strewn  at  the  offender's  feet.  Then 
the  horn  (shophar)  was  sounded,  the  candles  were 
extinguished,  and  the  bladders  burst — all  to  strike 
terror  into  the  culprit's  heart.  Finally  came  the 
pronouncement  of  the  excommunication :  '  In  the 
name  of  God,  of  the  tribunal  of  Heaven  and  of 
earth,  we  solemnly  ban  and  excommunicate  the 
sinner  N.N.  May  all  the  curses  of  the  Law  rest 
upon  his  head,  and  this  excommunication  cling  to 
the  248  members  of  his  body ! '  Whereupon  all 
present,  including  the  culprit,  answered  'Amen.' 

The  history  of  excommunication  in  the  Jewish 
Church  is  chiefly  a  catalogue  of  more  or  less 
distinguished  persons  banned  for  heresy,  or  some 
cognate  offence  against  authority.  Breaches  of 
the  religious  law  were  frequently  visited  with  the 
penalty  ;  but  we  hear  less  of  them  in  this  connexion 
than  of  contumacy  and  unorthodox  teaching. 
That  excommunication  was  employed  to  fight 
Christianity  at  its  inception  is  to  be  gathered  from 
Lk  622  and  922,  and  from  other  passages  in  the  New 
Testament.  The  first  undoubted  instance  of  the 
imposition  of  the  ban  given  in  the  Talmud,  though 
we  read  of  possibly  earlier  threats  of  it,  is  that  of 
the  sage  Akabya  ben  Mahalalel  (a  contemporary 
of  Jesus  [?]),  whose  sin  consisted  in  persisting  in  a 
view  of  the  ritual  law  opposed  to  that  of  the 
majority  of  the  Saphedrin.  At  this  period  the 
President  of  the  Sanhedrin  was  invested  with  the 
power  of  excommunication,  and  a  famous  President 
at  the  beginning  of  the  2nd  cent,  was  Gamaliel  II., 
a  man  of  sterling  but  imperious   character.     A 


notable  victim  of  his  overbearing  temper  was  his 
own  brother-in-law  Eliezer  ben  Hyrcanus,  a  Rabbi 
of  great  learning  and  influence,  upon  whom 
Gamaliel  imposed  lifelong  excommunication  for  an 
offence  similar  to  that  of  Akabya.  Gamaliel  calls 
Heaven  to  witness  that  his  severity  has  for  its 
motive  not  a  lust  of  power,  but  zeal  for  the  Divine 
glory  ;  and  there  is  no  question  that  his  protest  is 
sincere.  But  it  is  of  such  stuff  that  Torquemadas 
are  made,  and  from  such  zeal  that  the  evils  they 
produce  are  wrought.  Certainly  this  truth  did 
not  escape  the  attention  of  the  Talmudic  doctors  ; 
and  when,  in  the  same  century,  Judah  the  Holy 
threatened  to  place  R.  Meir  under  the  ban,  a  reso- 
lute spirit — Bar  £appara— himself  a  member  of  the 
Sanhedrin,  strenuously  protested.  It  would  seem, 
indeed,  that  excommunication  became  increasingly 
rare  in  Palestine  from  this  time  forward,  flagella- 
tion being  substituted  for  it  in  the  case  of  insub- 
ordinate Rabbis.  In  Babylonia,  however,  to 
which  the  centre  of  gravity  of  Jewish  life  was  now 
being  shifted,  the  old  disciplinary  system  was 
maintained,  at  least  in  principle.  How  often  it 
was  put  into  practice  it  is  impossible  to  say.  Only 
three  cases  are  recorded,  so  that  its  mere  terrors 
possibly  sufficed  to  keep  the  rebellious  in  order. 
There  were  certainly  Rabbis  who  prided  themselves 
upon  never  having  pronounced  sentence  of  ex- 
communication upon  a  colleague  ;  the  very  act  of 
pronouncing  it  was  punishable  with  the  ban.  It 
is  even  recorded  that  a  Rabbi  would  first  put  him- 
self under  the  ban  before  imposing  it  upon  others, 
so  that  he  might  remember  to  release  them  when 
he  set  himself  free.  But  this  considerate  temper 
was  by  no  means  general,  and  the  consequences 
were  sometimes  grotesque.  Two  Rabbis  would 
excommunicate  each  other,  and  the  difficulty  was 
to  know  which  of  the  two  sentences  was  the  valid 
one.  The  absurdity  of  such  proceedings  and  the 
evil  consequences  generally  of  excommunication 
moved  Maimonides  (12th  cent.)  to  utter  a  warning 
note. 

"The  Rabbi,'  he  said,  'has  the  undoubted  right  to  punish 
insults  to  his  office  by  excommunication ;  but  it  does  not 
consort  with  his  dignity  to  exercise  this  right  frequently. 
Better  that  he  should  let  the  insults  of  coarse  men  go  unnoticed, 
as  the  wise  Solomon  has  said,  "  Take  not  heed  unto  all  words 
that  are  spoken ;  lest  thou  hear  thy  servant  curse  thee  "  '  (op.  cit. 
end). 

Maimonides  himself  was  the  innocent  cause  of 
increased  resort  to  the  ban.  Opposition  to  his 
theological  teachings  broke  out  into  active  violence 
after  his  death,  and  the  anathema  was  pronounced 
against  all  and  sundry  who  should  read  his  Guide 
or  the  Introduction  to  his  Yad.  The  Rabbis  of  the 
opposing  school  followed  suit,  and  excommunicated 
those  who  denounced  the  Master.  The  quarrel  not 
only  grew  fiercer  as  time  went  on,  but  widened  in 
scope.  The  ban  was  now  directed  against  preachers 
who  interpreted  the  Scriptures  allegorically,  and 
against  all  persons  under  25  who  engaged  in  the 
study  of  Greek  philosophy,  or  of  any  natural  science 
except  medicine. 

In  Amsterdam,  in  the  17th  cent.,  Uriel  Acosta,  having  made 
his  submission  to  the  Synagogue  after  excommunication  for 
heresy,  was  placed  under  the  ban  a  second  time  on  repeating 
his  offence.  Again  recanting,  he  was  again  absolved ;  but  hia 
conflict  with  the  authorities  had  unhinged  his  mind,  and,  after 
an  attempt  upon  the  life  of  his  denouncer,  he  died  by  his  own 
hand.  A  more  illustrious  heretic,  Spinoza,  paid  with  excom- 
munication for  his  philosophical  speculations  in  the  same  cen- 
tury and  in  the  same  city.  He  made  no  attempt  at  recantation 
or  submission  ;  the  decree  which  drove  him  out  from  the  Jewish 
community  secured  additional  effectiveness  from  his  self-imposed 
banishment  and  alienation.     Cf.  artt.  Acosta,  Spinoza. 

Nor  was  philosophy  the  only  heresy.  The  mys- 
tical doctrine  of  the  ^Cabbala,  which  represented 
the  other  pole  of  Jewish  thought,  was  equally 
anathema.  Shabbathai  Sebi,  the  pseudo-Messiah, 
also  of  the  17th  cent.,  was  put  under  the  ban  as 
much  for  his  Cabbalistic  teachings  as  for  his  Mes- 
sianic pretensions.    His  followers  long  outlived  him 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Introductory  and  Primitive) 


723 


—  they  still  survive  in  Turkey;  and  the  sentence 
pronounced  against  their  founder  was  renewed  for 
their  punishment  at  intervals  for  a  century  and  a 
half.  Dabbling  in  the  Kabbala  brought  not  merely 
impostors,  but  also  great  teachers,  under  the  ban. 
Indeed,  the  more  eminent  the  Rabbi,  the  more 
surely  does  he  seem  to  have  been  marked  out  as  a 
lit  subject  for  excommunication  ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  more  obscure  the  Rabbi,  the  more  ready 
he  was  to  excommunicate.  '  The  sword  and  shield 
of  ignorance  and  deceit '  —  thus  a  Jewish  writer 
characterized  the  ban.  Even  to  show  brotherly 
feeling  for  the  Karaites  was  an  oli'ence  visited  with 
disciplinary  measures,  as  the  famous  Nachman 
Krochmal  of  Lemberg  was  to  learn,  less  than  a 
century  ago.  Naturally,  the  sect  of  the  Hasidim, 
who  exalted  mysticism  above  conformity  with  the 
Rabbinic  Law,  were  banned  as  heretics.  Heresy, 
moreover,  meant  anything  that  was  new,  however 
innocent  or  positively  advantageous  to  the  Jewish 
cause.  Thus  the  Synagogue,  or  rather  its  repre- 
sentatives in  certain  places,  declared  some  of  its 
best  friends  anathema — a  Dr.  Frankl,  for  example, 
who  fifty  years  ago  desired  to  found  in  Jerusalem 
an  asylum  for  children  on  modern  lines,  and,  a 
little  later,  even  Sir  Moses  Montefiore,  who  advo- 
cated the  teaching  of  European  languages  in  the 
schools  of  the  Holy  City.  Nor  has  such  disciplinary 
procedure  been  quite  unknown  in  England  in  recent 
times. 

A  species  of  excommunication  was  launched  by  the  orthodox 
Rabbinate  in  1842  against  the  West  London  Synagogue,  which 
had  just  been  established  on  principles  antagonistic  to  the 
Talmudic  theory  of  the  divinity  of  the  Oral  Law.  The  faithful 
were  warned  against  using  the  Prayer  Book  of  the  new  congre- 
gation, and  against  communion  with  them  in  '  any  religious 
rite  or  sacred  act.'  Members  of  the  congregation  were  denied 
Jewish  burial.  After  protracted  negotiations,  the  ban  was 
removed  seven  years  later. 

At  the  present  time  excommunication  is  virtually 
extinct  among  Jews  in  civilized  countries.  More 
than  a  century  ago  the  famous  Paris  Sanhedrin, 
convoked  by  Napoleon  I.,  anticipated  matters  by 
virtually  declaring  the  rite  of  excommunication 
obsolete.  It  is  significant  that  a  note  to  the 
chapter  on  the  ban  in  the  latest  editions  of  the 
Shulhan  Arukh  —  the  authoritative  text-book  of 
orthodox  Judaism — declares  that  the  prescriptions 
set  forth  in  that  chapter  have  no  longer  any  validity 
{Yore  Deah,  sect.  334).  Even  the  most  devoted 
adherent  of  the  Rabbinic  Law  is  forced  to  admit 
that  these  severe  disciplinary  measures  are  at  once 
superfluous  and  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the  age. 
Self-preservation  is  obtainable  by  milder  and  more 
rational  means  in  these  days  of  emancipation  and 
equality.  Moreover,  the  Jew  imbued  with  the 
modern  spirit  recognizes,  as  fully  as  does  his  Gen- 
tile brother,  that  severity,  when  exercised  by  a 
religious  body,  defeats  its  own  purpose  by  harden- 
ing the  offender  in  his  offence  and  confirming  him 
in  his  heresy.  It  is  a  glaring  self-contradiction, 
seeing  that  a  Church,  which  necessarily  claims  to 


be  the  Divine  representative,  should  have,  as  its 
first  characteristic,  the  Divine  qualities  of  mildness 
and  leniency.  Thus  the  ban  has  again  and  again 
served  the  cause  of  irreligion,  instead  of  militating 
against  it.  Moses  Mendelssohn  (18th  cent.),  the 
protagonist  of  the  modern  Jewish  temper,  has  well 
expressed  this  view : 

1  Excommunication  and  proscription,'  he  says  in  the  intro- 
ductory pages  of  his  Jerusalem,  'are  directly  contrary  to  the 
spirit  of  Religion.  What  1 — shut  out  a  brother  who  would  share 
in  my  edification  and  lift  his  heart  with  mine  to  God  !  If  Reli- 
gion permits  itself  no  arbitrary  punishments,  least  of  all  can  it 
use  this  spiritual  torment  which,  alas,  only  they  can  feel  who 
are  truly  religious.  .  .  .  Every  society,  it  is  urged,  has  the  right 
to  exclude;  why  not  a  religious  society?  My  answer  is  that 
this  is  just  where  a  religious  society  forms  an  exception.  Sub- 
ject to  a  higher  law,  no  society  can  exercise  a  right  which  is 
directly  opposed  to  its  fundamental  aims.  To  excommunicate 
a  dissenter,  to  expel  him  from  the  Church,  is  like  forbidding  a 
sick  man  the  dispensary.  It  is  to  repulse  the  patient  whose 
need  of  medicine  is  all  the  greater  because  he  is  not  conscious 
of  his  need,  but  deems  himself  in  good  health.' 

In  fairness,  however,  to  the  Synagogue,  a  dis- 
tinction must  be  drawn  between  the  needs  of 
modern  times  and  those  of  the  past.  There  were 
occasions  when  the  duty  of  safeguarding  the  exist- 
ence of  the  community,  and  even  of  the  religion, 
seemed  to  justify  resort  to  excommunication.  It 
possessed  terrors  which  every  other  disciplinary 
expedient  lacked.  It  seemed  to  be  the  only  means 
of  enforcing  respect  for  authority  and  obedience  to 
its  injunctions.  It  supplied  an  effective  weapon 
for  preserving  morality,  personal  and  public,  and 
it  often  averted  ill-will  and  persecution  at  the 
hands  of  the  general  population,  by  preventing 
internal  disputes  from  obtaining  the  publicity  of 
the  secular  courts.  Under  threat  of  excommuni- 
cation, Jewish  litigants  would  bring  their  quarrels 
for  adjustment  to  the  Beth  Din  (the  Ecclesiastical 
Court)  or  to  the  Ifahdl  (the  Congregation),  instead 
of  taking  them  for  settlement  to  the  magistrates. 
But  these  considerations  do  not  excuse  the  action 
of  certain  Rabbis,  of  the  mediaeval  period  more 
particularly,  who  resorted  to  excommunication  as 
an  easy  means  of  crushing  their  personal  opponents. 
Nor,  in  the  case  of  heresy,  do  they  avail  against 
the  objection  raised  by  I.  H.  Weiss  (Dor  Dor,  v.), 
that  excommunication,  even  when  actuated  by  the 
purest  motives,  did  more  harm  than  good  by  rend- 
ing Jewry  in  twain  at  a  time  when  concord  and 
union  were  its  greatest  need.  Moreover,  as  he 
adds,  instead  of  extirpating  the  evils  at  which  it 
aimed,  it  often  rooted  them  deeper.  The  heretic, 
who  might  have  been  won  back  by  lenity  and  for- 
bearance, was  strengthened  in  his  heresy,  and  still 
further  estranged,  by  severe  methods. 

Literature. — I.  Abrahams,  Jewish  Life  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
London,  1896;  H.  Graetz,  Gesch.  der  Juden,  Leipzig,  1S68-78 ; 
M.  Giidemann,  Gesch.  des  Erziehungswesens  und  der  Cultur 
der  abendldnd.  Juden,  Vienna,  1884  ;  Hamburger,  s.v.  '  Bann ' ; 
JE,  s.vv.  *  Anathema,'  '  Ban,'  '  Excommunication,'  '  Punish- 
ment'; JQR  xvi.  (1904)  604-624;  J.  Picciotto,  Anglo- Jewish 
History,  London,  1876 ;  I.  H.  Weiss,  Dor  Dor  we  Dorshaw*, 
Wilna,  1904 ;  J.  Wiesner,  Der  Bann,  Leipzig,  1864. 

Morris  Joseph. 


DISEASE    AND    MEDICINE. 


Introductory    and    Primitive    (C.    S.    Myers), 

p.  723. 
American  (A.  F.  Chamberlain),  p.  731. 
Assyro-Babylonian  (R.  C.  Thompson),  p.  741. 
Celtic  (T.  Barns),  p.  747. 
Egyptian  (G.  Foucart),  p.  749. 
Greek  and  Roman  (Ed.  Thraemer),  p.  753. 

DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Introdaetoiy 
and  Primitive). — Of  the  two  methods,  the  'direct' 
and  the  '  interpretative,'  by  which  we  can  study 
the  beliefs  of  different  peoples  as  regards  the 
methods  of  communication,  diagnosis,  and  treat- 
ment  of   disease,   each    has   its   difficulties.      To 


Hindu  (J.  Jolly),  p.  753. 

Jewish  (H.  Loewe),  p.  755. 

Muslim. — See  Charms  and  Amulets  (Muh.). 

Persian  (L.  C.  Casartelli),  p.  757. 

Roman. — See  '  Greek  and  Roman.' 

Teutonic  (K.  Sudhoff),  p.  759. 

Vedic  (G.  M.  Bollinq),  p.  762. 

'interpret'  the  beliefs  of  a  people  from  observa 
tion  of  their  practices  is  always  a  dangerous  pro- 
cedure. The  same  practices  may  exist  among 
widely  distant  peoples ;  yet  we  can  never  safely 
conclude  that  they  are  the  expression  of  precisely 
the  same  beliefs,  or  that  apparently  identical  be- 


724 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Introductory  and  Primitive) 


liefs  have  the  same  meaning  and  have  heen  reached 
by  the  same  lines  of  development.  Take  as  an  ex- 
ample certain  conceptions  of  the  cause  of  toothache. 
In  the  Banks  Islands,  says  Codrington  {The  Melanesia™, 
Oxford,  1891,  p.  193),  there  was  '  a  young  woman  of  my  acquaint- 
ance '  who  '  had  a  reputation  for  power  of  healing  toothache  by 
a  charm  which  had  been  taught  her  by  an  aged  relative  deceased. 
She  would  lay  a  certain  leaf,  rolled  up  with  certain  muttered 
words,  upon  the  part  inflamed  ;  and,  when  in  course  of  time  the 
pain  subsided,  she  would  take  out  and  unfold  the  leaf,  and  show 
within  it  the  little  white  maggot  that  was  the  cause  of  the 
trouble.'  We  turn  now  to  the  Ainus  of  Japan.  '  For  toothache 
a  nail  is  heated  to  white  heat  and  held  on  the  affected  tooth  for 
a  few  seconds.  This  is  said  to  kill  the  insects  which  are  sup- 
posed to  be  the  origin  of  the  malady '  (J.  Batchelor,  The  Ainu 
and  their  Folklore,  London,  1901,  p.  293).  Lastly,  in  ancient 
Assyria  and  among  the  modern  Arabs  of  Mesopotamia,  toothache 
is  attributed  to  a  worm. 

It  would  be  tempting  to  suppose  that  the  notion 
of  worms  or  insects  being  the  cause  of  toothache 
has  had  the  same  origin  in  Melanesia,  Japan,  and 
Asia  Minor ;  but  all  modern  anthropological  re- 
search points  to  the  danger  of  drawing  such  a  con- 
clusion from  a  single  thread  of  evidence.  We  can 
hope  to  arrive  at  the  relationship  between  indi- 
vidual beliefs  only  by  carefully  comparing  the  entire 
cultures  among  which  they  are  found  ;  we  can  hope 
to  arrive  at  the  ultimate  meaning  and  origin  of  a 
belief  only  by  observing  and  '  directly '  questioning 
the  peoples  among  whom  it  is  found,  and  especially 
neighbouring  and  more  primitive  peoples  who  may 
reasonably  be  considered  as  connected,  by  race  or 
by  environment,  with  them.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  is  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  obtain,  by  the 
'direct'  (or  questioning)  method,  the  beliefs  of  a 
people  in  relation  to  such  a  subject  as  disease.  For 
its  ideas  are  apt  to  be  nebulous  and  in  a  state  of 
flux ;  old  practices  often  persist,  but  receive  a 
changing  explanation  as  in  course  of  time  the  be- 
liefs of  the  community  develop ;  even  old  beliefs 
may  be  preserved  and  unreflectingly  maintained, 
despite  the  fact  that  they  are  logically  inconsistent 
with  the  newer  beliefs  which  an  advancing  civiliza- 
tion or  the  adoption  of  a  foreign  culture  brings 
with  it. 

In  the  face  of  these  difficulties,  we  shall  confine 
ourselves  in  this  article  mainly  to  the  study  of 
disease  among  definite  primitive  peoples.  We 
shall  examine  specific  instances  instead  of  working 
with  uncertain  generalities.  Such  a  study  will 
show  us  how  illness  has  been  attributed  first  to 
personal  (human  or  demonic)  and  later  to  Divine 
resentment,  as  the  ideas  of  human  magic,  of  inter- 
ference by  evil  spirits,  and  of  godhead  have  gradu- 
ally developed.  Comparing  primitive  and  more 
advanced  peoples  with  one  another,  we  shall  see 
how  treatment  becomes  more  complex  as  different 
diseases  are  allotted  to  different  evil  spirits,  demons, 
or  gods.  Different  medicine-men  are  invoked ;  defi- 
nite remedies  become  attached  to  definitely  recog- 
nized diseases.  Many  practices,  employed  even 
by  the  most  primitive  peoples,  are  continued,  but 
are  regarded  in  quite  another  light  as  civilization 
advances.  They  are  found  to  have  a  good  effect, 
although  the  original  cause  for  their  application  is 
no  longer  believed  in.  Thus  massage,  or  counter- 
irritation,  and  often  steam  are  employed  by  many 
primitive  peoples  with  the  object  of  driving  out  the 
evil  matter  or  spirit  or  the  demon  of  the  disease 
from  the  patient's  body.  The  evil  is  kneaded, 
stamped,  or  pounded  out  of  the  body ;  or  it  is 
rubbed  in  a  definite  direction — usually  from  the 
part  affected  towards  the  feet,  where  it  escapes ;  or 
cuts  are  made  in  the  skin,  causing  some  flow  of 
blood.  Again,  the  conviction  felt  by  the  patient 
that  the  medicine-man  is  able  by  his  actions  to 
control  the  evil  spirits  of  disease  is  responsible, 
more  than  any  other  factor,  for  the  success  of 
primitive  therapeutics.  So,  too,  among  the  most 
advanced  communities,  despite  their  changed  be- 
liefs, massage,  hydrotherapy,  and,  at  all  events 


until  recently,  venesection  persist  as  useful  prac- 
tices. As  regards  suggestion,  it  is  open  to  question 
how  far  the  most  modern  treatment,  or  the  most 
'  specific '  drug,  can  restore  the  patient  to  health, 
unless  he  has  been  induced  to  believe  in  its  efficacy. 
Among  primitive  peoples,  knowing  the  name  of 
the  evil  spirit,  using  archaic  language,  summoning 
medicine-men  from  another  tribe,  are  frequently 
important  factors  in  effecting  a  cure.  Among  our- 
selves, a  physician  is  held  of  slight  account  who 
cannot  give  a  name  to  his  patient's  illness ;  he  still 
writes  his  remedies  in  a  dead  language ;  and  his 
reputation  is  apt  to  be  greater  abroad  than  at  home. 
Although  the  medicinal  aspect  of  treatment  has 
come  more  and  more  to  the  front,  in  no  part  of 
the  world  can  the  magical  aspect  be  said  to  have 
altogether  disappeared. 

I.  Australia. — Turning  now  to  various  primitive 
peoples  in  order  to  study  their  practices  (and,  so 
far  as  is  possible,  their  beliefs)  in  regard  to  the 
causation  and  treatment  of  disease,  let  us  first 
examine  the  native  Australians,  who  have  been 
studied  with  considerable  care  by  Spencer  and 
Gillen  (The  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia, 
London,  1899,  The  Northern  Tribes  of  Central 
Australia,  do.  1904),  by  W.  E.  Roth  (North 
Queensland  Ethnography,  Bulletin  5,  Brisbane, 
1903),  and  by  Howitt  (The  Native  Tribes  of  South- 
East  Australia,  London,  1904).1  Among  these 
peoples  disease  is  attributed  to  some  evil  magic 
prepared  by  one  man  who  wishes  to  harm  another. 
A  widely  spread  method  of  causing  disease  is  for 
the  sorcerer  to  take  an  irna,  a  stick  or  bone  less 
than  a  foot  long,  sharpened  at  one  end,  the  other 
end  being  usually  tipped  with  porcupine-grass 
resin  (S.-G.a  534).  Any  native  may  act  as  a  sor- 
cerer. He  goes  away  into  the  bush  with  his  irna, 
which  he  places  in  the  ground,  muttering  some 
such  curse  as  '  May  your  heart  be  rent  asunder  ! ', 
'  May  your  head  and  throat  be  split  open  ! '  Then 
he  goes  back  to  his  camp,  returning  later  to  fetch 
the  irna,  which  he  hides  somewhere  near  his  camp. 
He  bides  his  time  until  he  can  get  near  enough 
one  night  to  distinguish  his  victim  without  being 
himself  observed. 

'He  then  stoops  down,  and  turning  his  back  towards  the 
camp  takes  the  irna  in  both  hands  and  jerks  it  repeatedly  over 
his  shoulder,  muttering  the  same  curses  again  '  (S.-G.b  458). 
This  pointing  of  the  irna  causes  disease,  and  even 
death,  unless  the  evil  magic  which  has  proceeded 
from  the  point  of  the  irna  can  be  removed.  Usu- 
ally a  string  is  attached  to  the  wax  end  of  the 
irna,  and  this  the  sorcerer  often  burns  in  the  fire 
to  ensure  the  death  of  his  victim.  There  is  general 
agreement,  among  Europeans  resident  in  primitive 
communities,  that  natives  are  extraordinarily  open 
to  suggestion,  so  far  at  least  as  the  transmission 
of  disease  is  concerned.  A  man  who  believes  that 
magic  has  been  exercised  upon  him  '  simply  lies 
down,  refuses  food,  and  pines  away'  (S.-G.a  537). 
The  writer  was  assured,  during  his  stay  in  the 
Torres  Straits,  that  it  was  sufficient  if  a  man  re- 
cognized as  having  magic  power  made  a  slight 
movement  towards  another  who  was  aware  that 
the  former  owed  him  a  grudge.  The  victim  would 
then  go  home,  refuse  food,  and  become  seriously 
ill.  This  pointing  with  the  bone  extends,  with 
variations,  throughout  Australia.  In  some  cases 
a  spear  is  used  with  a  human  bone  attached  to  it 
(R.  §  139  f.);  in  others  a  human  fibula  is  used 
(H.  358),  often  along  with  human  fat  (ib.  361), 
which  the  medicine-men  are  believed  to  be  able  to 
abstract  from  other  victims  and  to  use  as  a  power- 
ful aid  (ib.  367).  In  place  of  the  bone,  stones  may 
be  employed  (S.-G.b  467  ;  H.  378) ;  pieces  of  quartz, 
especially  in  the  crystalline  form,  are  believed  to 
be  capable  of  projecting  magic  towards  the  victim 

1  For  brevity's  sake,  we  shall  refer  to  these  books  as  S.-G.* 
S.-G.b,  R. ,  and  H.  respectively. 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Introductory  and  Primitive) 


725 


(H.  357,  365  ;  R.  §  114).  Certain  stones  may,  from 
their  mythical  history,  be  exceedingly  powerful 
(S.-G.b  472,  469).  A  dead  man's  hair  made  into  a 
girdle  or  worn  in  a  necklace,  lengths  of  opossum 
string  (R.  §  131),  a  dead  man's  head-band  (S.-G.a 
538),  a  knout  made  of  strands  of  vegetable  fibre 
(k  469),  a  woman's  head-band  (ib.  465),  are  also 
powerful  objects  for  evil  magic.  Ant-hills  are 
similarly  employed ;  a  curse  is  muttered  into  an 
ant-hill,  which  is  then  secretly  brought  back  to 
the  camp,  pounded,  and  scattered  over  the  ground 
in  the  camp  to  which  the  victim  belongs  (ib.  466). 

There  is  little  specialization  of  function  among 
most  of  the  Australian  tribes  in  the  causation  of 
disease  ;  any  man  can  magically  affect  another. 
It  is  more  particularly  in  the  treatment  of  disease 
that  special  'medicine-men'  play  a  part  (S.-G.b 
479).  These  may  wear  special  emblems,  and  be 
compelled  to  submit  to  certain  regulations  in  diet 
and  training  (ib.  485).  The  medicine-man  may 
suck  or  knead  the  affected  part  (H.  3S0,  384).  He 
may  merely  lay  on  his  hands  (ib.  382),  or  make 
passes  (S.-G.b  484),  or  he  may  suck  at  or  bind  round 
the  patient  strings  of  human  hair  or  opossum  fur 
(R.  §§  155,  156).  His  object  is  commonly  to  pro- 
duce from  the  patient's  body  the  bone  or  the  stone 
which  the  patient's  enemy  has  employed  against 
him  (S.-G.b  480 ;  H.  379,  384) ;  he  sometimes  pro- 
duces a  bit  of  quartz  or  charcoal,  or  a  marble,  and 
often  spits  out  blood  somehow  obtained  from  his 
own  mouth  after  prolonged  sucking.  In  some 
cases  the  patient  is  bled  (H.  385),  or  is  treated  with 
herbs,  etc.  (ib.  384).  Or  it  may  be  enough  for  him 
to  place  a  woman's  head-band  upon  his  stomach, 
whereupon  the  evil  magic  passes  into  the  band, 
which  is  thrown  away  into  the  bush  (S.-G.b  474). 

There  are  several  minor  features  also  described 
by  observers  of  the  Australians ;  but  the  above 
may  be  considered  to  be  typical  of  this  people 
generally,  and  will  suffice  to  show  broadly  their 
attitude  towards  disease.  It  is  clear  that  disease 
is  commonly  regarded  in  Australia  as  an  evil  sent 
by  one  man  to  another,  which  is  transmitted  through 
the  magic  influence  of  pointing  some  such  object  as 
a  bone,  a  stone,  or  a  piece  of  quartz.  It  enters  the 
body  in  that  form,  and  in  the  same  form  the  evil 
must  be  withdrawn  from  the  body. 

2.  Torres  Straits. — Now  let  us  turn  to  the 
Torres  Straits,  between  Queensland  and  New 
Guinea.  Here,  too,  the  belief  in  the  power  pos- 
sessed by  individuals  in  causing  disease  is  accepted. 
It  is  probable  that  in  his  heart  each  native  knows 
that  he  cannot  cause  disease  in  another ;  never- 
theless, he  is  always  in  terror  lest  some  enemy 
may  have  the  power  of  causing  it  in  himself.  In 
Murray  Island,  certain  families  were  credited  with 
influence  over  the  growth  of  bananas,  coco-nuts, 
or  yams  ;  others  were  supposed  to  direct  the  move- 
ments of  sharks ;  many  erected  stone  images  in 
their  gardens  to  protect  their  food.  There  arose 
a  belief  in  disease  as  the  sequel  to  robbery  or  some 
similar  crime,  and  in  the  value  of  certain  stones  or 
marks  as  an  indication  and  assurance  that  disease 
would  follow  if  the  objects  protected  by  such  signs 
of  tabu  were  disturbed. 

In  Murray  Island  the  writer  obtained  a  descrip- 
tion of  a  species  of  sorcery,  called  maid,  which  was 
formerly  inflicted  by  any  of  the  older  men,  in  cases 
of  hatred  (maid  urkerlam)  or  adultery  (maid  kos- 
kerlam).  Finding  his  victim  alone,  the  avenger 
takes  up  a  chance  stone,  and,  pronouncing  over  it 
some  magic  words  (zogo  mer)  in  a  half-whisper, 
spits  once  or  twice  on  it,  and  hurls  it  with  great 
force  to  strike  the  back  of  his  enemy.  The  latter 
falls  to  the  ground,  breathing  heavily,  and  loses 
consciousness.  The  assailant  and  certain  relatives 
who  have  accompanied  him  now  close  in  on  the 
f  rostrate  body  of  the  victim,  and  belabour  it  with 


their  clubs.  They  then  rub  the  body  with  a  mix- 
ture of  herbs  and  coco-nut  oil,  and  give  the  victim 
coco-nut  milk  to  drink.  The  assailant,  while  rub- 
bing him,  tells  him  to  go  up  a  coco-nut  tree  and  to 
fall  down  from  it,  breaking  his  leg ;  or  he  orders 
him  to  be  bitten  by  a  centipede  (esi),  which  will 
produce  fatal  blood-poisoning ;  or  he  may  tell  him 
to  go  to  a  certain  point  in  the  island,  and  then  to 
return  home  and  die.  The  avenging  party  now 
withdraw  to  a  short  distance,  leaving  the  man's 
knife  and  some  bananas  and  coco-nuts  beside  him. 
When  he  awakes  and  begins  to  wonder  what  has 
happened  to  him,  one  of  the  hiding  party  takes  up 
a  stone  and  hits  a  tree  near  the  terrified  man. 
This  makes  him  start,  forget  his  bruises,  and  rush 
home,  where  he  lies  thirsty  and  comatose  for  some 
days.  Then  (according  to  the  order  of  his  assailant) 
he  will  say  to  his  wife  :  '  I  think  I  shall  go  up  that 
coco-nut  tree.'  He  goes  up,  falls  down,  breaks  his 
leg,  and  perhaps  dies.  As  the  informant  said,  '  He 
no  go  up  himself.  Medicine  [i.e.  the  magic  cere- 
mony] make  him  go  up.' 

A  third  feature  in  the  Murray  Islander's  attitude 
towards  disease  consists  in  his  treatment  of  it.  A 
special  group  of  men,  the  lukup  zogo  le,  are  con- 
cerned in  curing  disease.  The  sick  man  is  placed 
on  the  sand-beach ;  his  eyes  are  closed ;  no  one 
may  see  the  approach  of  the  lukup  zogo  le.  As  he 
comes  near,  previously  anointed  with  coco-nut  oil 
by  his  attendant,  he  halts,  and,  spitting  or  blowing 
on  his  hands,  performs  a  series  of  movements  with 
them,  as  if  he  were  sweeping  something  from  him- 
self towards  the  patient.  The  doctor  firmly  fixes 
his  gaze  upon  the  patient  throughout  these  actions. 
Then  he  makes  some  movements  of  the  leg  and 
further  movements  of  the  arms.  Finally,  he  shouts 
the  word  '  Sirar'  in  a  shrill  voice  and  rushes  off  to 
the  sea,  accompanied  by  the  sick  man.  Some  few 
hours  after  bathing,  the  lukup  zogo  le  visits  the 
patient  in  his  hut  and  rubs  him  down  with  a  decoc- 
tion of  herbs,  sea-weed,  and  coco-nut  oil.  This 
massage  is  repeated  daily  if  necessary,  until  the 
patient  recovers  (Camb.  Exp.  Torres  Straits,  v. 
320-326,  vi.  222-240). 

3.  Melanesia. — These  three  characteristics — the 
belief  that  sickness  is  a  result  of  disregarding  a 
tabu,  the  use  of  suggestion  and  interference  with 
memory  in  causing  injury  or  disease,  and  the  more 
elaborate  ceremonial  in  treatment  of  sickness — 
indicate  a  more  advanced  state  of  culture  than 
exists  throughout  Australia  generally.  We  may 
trace  this  state  among  the  neighbouring  people  of 
New  Guinea,  in  the  Bismarck  Archipelago,  in  the 
Solomon  Islands,  in  the  Banks  Islands,  and  in  the 
New  Hebrides  ;  it  is  a  Papuo-Melanesian  attitude 
towards  disease.  Thus,  according  to  Seligmann 
(The  Melanesians  of  British  New  Guinea,  Cam- 
bridge, 1910),  '  one  or  more  .  .  .  men  who  were 
sorcerers  would  follow  their  intended  victim  to 
his  garden.  .  .  .  There  he  would  be  speared  and 
clubbed,  and,  when  dead  [i.e.  unconscious],  cut  to 
pieces.  One  end  of  a  length  of  rope  is  then  looped 
round  the  dead  man's  hand  or  knee,  while  the 
opposite  end  is  steeped  in  certain  "medicine" 
(gorto).'  The  medicine  passes  along  the  rope  and 
revives  the  victim.  He  is  at  first  dazed,  and  does 
not  know  where  he  is  or  what  has  happened  to 
him.  He  is  told  that  he  will  die  shortly,  but  he  at 
once  loses  memory  of  this.  He  manages  to  crawl 
back  to  his  village,  where  his  friends  realize  what 
has  occurred  by  his  silly,  feeble  condition,  although 
the  victim  can  give  no  account  of  what  has  befallen 
him  (op.  cit.  170).  At  Savo,  Guadalcanar,  Malanta, 
and  at  Florida,  in  the  Solomon  Islands,  the  victim 
is  met  in  solitude  by  his  assailant,  who  '  seizes 
him,  bites  his  neck,  stuff's  .  .  .  [certain]  magic 
leaves  down  his  throat  and  knocks  him  on  the 
head  with  an  axe,  but  not  so  as  to  kill  him.'    The 


726 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Introductory  and  Primitive; 


charmed  leaves  make  the  victim  forget  the  name 
of  his  assailant.  He  goes  home,  and  dies  two  days 
later  (Codrington,  206).  In  Lepers  Island,  New 
Hebrides,  the  assailant,  after  having  overcome  his 
victim,  shoots  a  little  charmed  material  at  his  head 
by  means  of  a  bow  and  arrow,  whereupon  he  can 
remember  nothing  of  the  scene,  but  goes  home  to 
fall  ill  and  die.  His  friends,  seeing  the  wound, 
know  what  has  happened  to  him  (ib.  207). 

In  the  central  part  of  New  Britain  (Neu  Pom- 
mern),  Bismarck  Archipelago,  property  is  protected 
by  tabu  signs  which,  if  disregarded,  will  cause 
headache,  sores,  etc.,  on  the  trespasser  or  the  thief. 
If  grasses  are  charmed  and  laid  on  the  tree  stems, 
madness  will  ensue.  A  human  bone  placed  on  the 
spot  whence  an  object  was  stolen  will  cause  the 
thief  to  waste  (R.  Parkinson,  Dreissig  Jahre  in  der 
Siidsee,  Stuttgart,  1907).  In  the  Solomon  Islands 
the  disregard  of  tabu  marks  is  similarly  believed 
to  result  in  disease. 

Among  the  Eastern  Papuo-Melanesians  of  New 
Guinea  we  find  a  further  development  of  the  view 
that  disease  is  due  to  some  emanation  from  the 
sorcerer.  At  Bartle  Bay,  for  instance,  disease  can 
be  caused  'by  means  of  a  "sending"  projected 
from  the  body  of  the  sorcerer  or  witch.  .  .  .  The 
"sending"  is  most  commonly  projected  from  the 
body  of  a  woman,  and  after  her  death  may  pass  to 
her  daughter,  or  with  her  spirit  or  shade  (aru)  pass 
to  the  other  world.'  At  Gelaria,  in  the  same 
region  of  New  Guinea,  the  '  sending '  is  called 
labuni.  Labuni  exist  within  women.  They  are 
said  to  wear  petticoats,  which,  however,  are  shorter 
than  those  worn  by  the  women  of  the  district.  They 
'  produce  disease  by  means  of  a  sliver  of  bone,  or 
fragment  of  stone  or  coral,  called  gidana,  which 
they  insert  into  their  victim's  body.  A  fragment 
of  human  bone  or  a  man's  tooth  is  a  specially  potent 
gidana '  (Seligmann,  640  f . ).  The  gidana  is  thrown 
by  the  labuni  at  about  sixty  yards'  distance ;  only 
the  '  spiritual '  part  is  said  to  enter  the  victim's 
body.  The  process  of  removing  the  spell  can  be 
performed  only  after  the  woman  who  sent  the 
labuni  has  been  appeased  by  presents.  The  treat- 
ment is  usually  undertaken  by  a  man,  and  consists 
in  rubbing  the  body  until  the  gidana  is  extracted 
in  the  form  of  a  material  lump,  which  is  sucked 
out  through  the  closed  hands  of  the  masseur. 

This  notion  of  the  discharge  of  an  independent 
emanation  or  spirit  from  a  living  person,  which 
itself  lives  as  a  petticoated  individual,  probably 
led  to  a  further  development  in  which  disease  is 
attributed  to  the  influence  of  an  evil  spirit. 
Amongst  the  Koro-speaking  peoples  of  New  Guinea 
there  is  '  an  ill-defined  but  real  belief  in  demon- 
producing  spiritual  agencies  controlled  by  a 
sorcerer '  (Seligmann,  291).  In  the  Gazelle  Pen- 
insula, New  Britain,  the  most  powerful  of  evil 
spirits  is  called  Kaia ;  it  dwells  in  high  trees, 
dark  caves,  and  other  inaccessible  places  which 
are  held  sacred.  Any  one  profaning  one  of  these 
sacred  places  invites  sickness  or  death.  Kaia 
manifests  itself  in  the  form  of  a  snake  (P.  A. 
Kleintitschen,  Die  Kiistenbewohner  d.  Gazellehalb- 
insel,  Miinster,  1906,  p.  337).  So,  too,  in  the  New 
Hebrides,  spirits  are  the  chief  objects  of  veneration  ; 
a  sick  man  always  attributes  his  illness  to  a  spirit 
which  he  has  offended  by  trespassing  on  some  spot 
or  profaning  some  object  belonging  to  it,  or  which 
some  enemy  has  invoked  to  bring  illness  (Codring- 
ton, 184). 

In  the  Banks  Islands,  on  the  other  hand,  sickness 
is  generally  attributed  to  the  resentment,  not  of 
eyil  spirits,  but  of  'ghosts  of  the  dead.  Also  in 
Florida  (Solomon  Islands)  it  is  a  tindalo,  i.e.  a 
ghost  of  the  dead, 

'  that  causes  illness  ;  it  is  a  matter  of  conjecture  which  of  the 
known  lindalos  it  may  be.     Sometimes  a  person  has  reason  to 


think,  or  fancies,  that  he  has  offended  his  dead  father,  uncle,  or 
brother.  In  that  case  no  special  intercessor  is  required ;  the 
patient  himself  or  one  of  the  family  will  sacrifice,  and  beg  the 
tindalo  to  take  the  sickness  away  ;  "it  is  a  family  affair.'  But,  if 
he  is  uncertain  of  the  ghost,  if,  for  instance,  his  child  is  sick,  he 
will  summon  a  doctor,  a  mane  kisu,  to  decide.  '  The  doctor 
called  in  will  .  .  .  chew  ginger  and  blow  into  the  patient's  ears 
and  on  that  part  of  the  skull  which  is  soft  in  infants,  will  call  on 
the  name  of  the  tindalo,  and  beg  him  to  remove  the  sickness ' 
(Codrington,  194  f.).  If  this  proves  unsuccessful,  another  tindalo 
is  addressed,  or  another  mane  kisu  is  summoned.  The  latter 
may  undertake  to  get  his  own  tindalo  to  intercede  with  the 
tindalo  that  is  causing  the  illness. 

Thus  we  are  able  to  trace  in  Oceania  a  develop- 
ment, along  two  directions,  of  ideas  as  to  the 
causation  of  disease.  In  the  one,  disease  is  attrib- 
uted to  some  interference  on  the  part  of  the  dead. 
Probably  this  belief,  traces  of  which  appear  even 
in  Queensland  (R.  §  114),  is  correlated  with  the 
growth  of  the  cult  of  the  dead,  which  is  so  complex 
in  certain  parts  of  Melanesia.  Thus,  according  to 
Seligmann  (op.  cit.  12  f.),  one  of  the  distinguishing 
characteristics  of  the  Western  Papuo-Melanesians, 
ranging  from  Cape  Possession  to  Orangerie  Bay,  is 
the  close  association  of  certain  institutions  with 
the  shades  of  the  dead,  whereas  the  Eastern 
Papuo-Melanesians  show  no  fear  of  the  visitation 
of  the  deceased,  and  no  fear  of  supernatural  beings. 
They  attribute  disease,  as  we  have  already  seen,  to 
the  discharge  of  a  spirit  from  a  living  person,  thus 
closely  agreeing  with  the  general  Australian  view. 

The  other  line  of  development  in  Oceania  con- 
sists in  the  attributing  of  disease  to  an  offended 
spirit,  which  has  to  be  propitiated  by  sacrifice. 
This  conception  finds  a  far  higher  development  in 
Polynesia.  In  Samoa,  for  example,  disease  was 
considered  due  to  'the  wrath  of  some  particular 
deity.'  The  high  priest  of  the  village  ascertained 
the  cause,  and  ordered  some  sacrifice  on  the  part  of 
the  patient,  e.g.  a  canoe  or  a  piece  of  land;  Or  a 
confession  was  obtained  from  every  member  of  the 
patient's  family  as  to  the  crimes  each  had  com- 
mitted or  the  curses  he  had  uttered  in  a  moment  of 
anger  against  the  patient  or  some  other  member 
of  the  family  (G.  Turner,  Samoa,  London,  1884, 
p.  140).  In  Tahiti,  again,  the  sickness  of  chiefs 
was  attributed  to  the  anger  of  the  gods.  *  Whole 
fields  of  plantains  and  a  hundred  or  more  pigs ' 
would  be  taken  to  the  temples,  where  prayers  were 
offered  up  ( W.  Ellis,  Polynesian  Researches,  London, 
1831,  i.  349).  In  Polynesia  generally,  disease  was 
supposed  to  be  a  visitation  from  the  gods. 

'  When  a  person  was  taken  ill,  the  priest  or  physician  was  sent 
for  ;  as  soon  aB  he  arrived,  a  young  plantain-tree,  procured  by 
some  members  of  the  family,  was  handed  to  him,  as  an  offering 
to  the  god  ;  a  present  of  cloth  was  also  furnished,  as  his  own  fee. 
He  began  by  calling  upon  the  name  of  his  god,  beseeching  him 
to  abate  his  anger  towards  the  sufferer,  to  say  what  would  pro- 
pitiate him,  or  what  applications  would  afford  relief '  (ib.  iii.  37). 
Indeed,  the  medicine  administered  (e.g.  powder  or  infusion  of 
vegetable  matter,  hot  baths,  etc.)  was  '  considered  more  as  the 
vehicle  or  medium  by  which  the  god  would  act  than  as  possess- 
ing any  power  itself  to  arrest  the  progress  of  the  disease' 
(ib.  47). 

In  Hawaii  the  medicinal  herbs  employed  were 
believed  to  have  been  obtained  many  generations 
ago,  by  a  man  named  Koreamoku,  direct  '  from  the 
gods,  who  also  taught  him  the  use  of  them ' 
(ib.  iv.  335). 

Thus,  starting  from  the  rude  Australian  belief 
that  disease  was  sent  by  one  individual  against 
his  enemy,  we  have  reached  the  high  Polynesian 
conception  of  illness  as  the  result  of  sin  against 
the  gods.  Instead  of  employing  a  medicine-man 
to  remove  the  stone  or  bone  which  had  entered  the 
victim,  the  latter  relies  for  his  recovery  mainly  on 
prayers  and  sacrifices  offered  to  the  offended  god. 
Throughout  Oceania  the  various  practices  we  have 
described  are  combined  with  therapeutic  measures, 
the  most  important  of  which,  alike  in  the  causation 
and  in  the  treatment  of  disease,  unquestionably  is 
suggestion.  Massage,  with  or  without  the  external 
application  of  herbs,  is  a  very  common  treatment 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Introductory  and  Primitive) 


727 


prescribed.  Bleeding  is  occasionally  resorted  to. 
Trephining  was  practised  in  the  Polynesian  Islands, 
and  is  met  with  in  certain  more  western  islands, 
e.g.  Loyalty  Island,  Duke  of  York  Island,  Neu 
Mecklenburg  (New  Ireland),  and  in  the  Gazelle 
Peninsula  of  New  Britain,  for  the  relief  of  severe 
headache  and  epilepsy.  Hot  baths  are  often  em- 
ployed in  Polynesia  and  in  other  islands,  e.g.  the 
Solomon  Islands,  the  patient  being  wrapped  in  a 
cloth  and  seated  over  a  pile  of  heated  stones,  which 
are  covered  with  herbs  and  leaves.  Fractured  bones 
are  set  with  splints  of  bamboo.  Herbs  are  pounded, 
made  into  decoctions,  and  administered  to  the 
patient  internally.  Sometimes  they  are  merely 
warmed  in  a  coco-nut  shell  over  the  fire,  and  the 
steam  therefrom,  being  applied  to  the  patient,  is 
expected  to  drive  away  the  pain  or  the  disease. 
Especially  in  Melanesia,  into  which  the  areca  has 
been  introduced  from  the  Malay  Archipelago  where 
it  is  similarly  valued,  betel  nut,  betel  leaves,  and 
lime  are  considered  powerful  medicinal  substances, 
both  for  internal  and  for  outward  application. 

We  have  attempted  to  trace  in  vague  outline 
various  stages  in  the  attitude  of  different  Oceanic 
peoples  towards  disease.  But,  as  we  have  al- 
ready pointed  out  (p.  724"),  a  people,  when  passing 
to  a  higher  plane,  does  not  discard  the  beliefs  of  the 
lower,  but  carries  them  with  it,  perhaps  adapting 
them  to  suit  its  further  development.  Thus  the 
Hawaians,  although  they  attribute  disease  to  the 
gods,  nevertheless  believe  that  a  sorcerer  may  be 
employed  by  a  man  to  bring  disease  or  death  to 
his  enemy.  Consequently  presents  are  made  to 
the  god,  not  only  to  appease  his  anger,  but  also 
to  turn  the  disease  back  to  the  person  who  sent  it 
(Ellis,  op.  cit.  iv.  293).  So  the  Samoan,  despite  his 
belief  that  disease  is  due  to  the  wrath  of  a  deity, 
protects  his  property  by  various  tabus.  For 
example,  he  may  suspend  a  stick  horizontally 
from  one  of  his  trees  ;  this  expresses  '  the  wish 
of  the  owner  that  any  thief  touching  it  might 
have  a  disease  running  right  across  his  body,  and 
remaining  fixed  there  till  he  died '  (Turner,  op.  cit. 
186).  Or  he  may  bring  some  pieces  of  clam  shell, 
'  erecting  at  the  spot  three  or  four  reeds  tied 
together  at  the  top  in  a  bunch  like  the  head  of  a 
man'  (ib.).  This  was  recognized  as  expressing  a 
wish  that  the  thief  might  be  seized  with  ulcerous 
sores.  Thus  punished,  the  thief  would  confess  and 
make  a  present  to  the  owner,  who  would  send  him 
in  return  some  native  herb  as  medicine. 

We  have  already  drawn  attention  to  the  Aus- 
tralian belief  in  the  potency  of  human  bones  as  a 
cause  of  disease.  It  is  also  met  with  in  various 
parts  of  Melanesia  and  New  Guinea.  In  the  Banks 
Islands,  where,  as  we  have  seen,  illness  is  attributed 
to  the  ghosts  of  the  deceased,  a  piece  of  human  bone, 
belonging  to  the  corpse  of  the  ghost  whose  services 
are  required,  is  applied  to  a  fragment  of  food 
stolen  from  the  victim.  The  whole  is  then 
'  charmed,'  and  allowed  to  decompose  or  to  burn.  In 
the  same  islands  and  in  Florida  (Solomon  Islands) 
a  piece  of  bamboo  is  stuffed  with  leaves,  a  dead 
man's  bone,  and  other  magical  substances.  The 
aggressor  covers  up  the  open  end  of  the  bamboo 
until  he  meets  his  foe,  when  he  opens  it  and  lets 
fly  the  magic  influence  against  him  (Codrington, 
op.  cit.  204).  So,  too,  among  the  Roro-speaking 
peoples  of  New  Guinea  (Seligmann,  op.  cit.  289) 
there  is  a  widely  spread  belief  that  parts  of  newly 
dead  bodies  are  of  value  in  the  preparation  of 
charms,  and  amongst  the  Eastern  Papuo-Melan- 
esians  about  Milne  Bay  {ib.  551)  sorcerers  are 
supposed  to  open  graves  of  the  dead  and  to  eat 
their  bodies. 

From  the  powers  over  disease  attributed  to  the 
human  dead  we  may  pass  to  those  attributed  to 
living  animals,  chief  among  which  is  that  of  the 


snake.  The  most  potent  of  evil  spirits  in  the 
Gazelle  Peninsula  of  New  Britain  preferably  mani- 
fests itself  in  the  form  of  a  snake.  The  man  who 
wishes  to  injure  another  cuts  up  sea  snakes  and 
mixes  them  with  leaves,  roots,  lime,  and  something 
— e.g.  hair,  blood,  or  footprints — connected  with 
the  victim.  He  places  the  whole  in  a  short  piece 
of  bamboo,  mutters  secret  words  over  it,  and 
throws  it  into  the  sea,  or  buries  it  in  the  bush 
( Klein titschen,  op.  cit.  343).  In  Pentecost  Island 
(New  Hebrides)  delirium  is  attributed  to  a  mae,  a 
mysterious  snake,  which  can  be  removed  from  the 
patiant  if  he  sits  over  the  smoke  of  a  heated  coco- 
nut husk  into  which  the  medicine-man  has  breathed 
his  charm  (Codrington,  op.  cit.  200).  If  the  mae 
snake  took  away  a  piece  of  food  into  the  place  that 
was  sacred  to  a  spirit,  the  man  who  had  eaten  the 
rest  of  the  food  would  become  ill  as  the  fragment 
decayed.  Among  the  Roro-speaking  tribes  of  New 
Guinea  disease  is  commonly  attributed  to  snakes 
and  to  certain  magical  stones.  The  sorcerer  is 
thought  to  be  able  to  extract  a  deadly  stone  from 
the  black  snake,  and  this  stone  kills  every  person 
who  touches  it.  Even  the  sorcerer,  it  is  said,  takes 
care  not  to  come  into  immediate  contact  with  it. 
In  order  to  obtain  a  snake-stone,  the  sorcerer  fasts 
in  the  bush  alone  for  a  fortnight,  his  food  being 
limited  to  roasted  bananas.  He  is  particularly 
careful  to  avoid  the  sight  of  women.  Sooner  or 
later  he  dreams  of  the  whereabouts  of  a  very 
poisonous  snake.  Protecting  his  limbs  by  means 
of  bandages,  he  proceeds  to  find  and  then  to  worry 
the  snake,  and  '  as  it  glides  away,  it  exposes  a 
small  stone,'  which  he  picks  up  by  thrusting  against 
it  a  kind  of  fishing-spear  provided  with  numerous 
closely  set  points.  It  is  dropped  from  the  spear 
into  a  bamboo  tube.  The  snake-stone  is  described 
as  being  the  size  of  a  filbert,  and  red-hot,  hissing 
and  losing  its  power  if  dropped  into  salt-water. 
The  snake  can  be  sent  by  the  sorcerer  to  bite  his 
victim,  if  it  has  been  allowed  to  smell  the  clethes 
or  some  other  object  belonging  to  the  latter  (Selig- 
mann, op.  cit.  28). 

The  charming  of  any  objects  belonging  to  the 
victim  is  believed  to  play  so  important  a  part  in 
producing  disease,  not  only  in  Oceania,  but  over 
the  greater  part  of  the  world,  that  it  is  only 
natural  for  primitive  man  to  take  every  care  lest 
cuttings  from  his  hair,  parings  from  his  nails, 
refuse  from  his  food,  his  expectoration,  excretions, 
footprints,  or  clothing  pass  into  the  hands  of  his 
enemy.  In  New  Britain,  for  example,  one  or 
other  of  these  objects  (panait)  is  used  by  the 
sorcerer  (papait),  who  murmurs  an  incantation 
over  it,  burns  it  with  lime,  and  blows  it  from  his 
hand  into  the  air  (Parkinson,  op.  cit.  118).  In 
Tana  (New  Hebrides)  a  sorcerer,  on  seeing  a  dis- 
carded banana-skin,  will  pick  it  up  and  wear  it  all 
day  in  a  leaf  hanging  round  his  neck,  thus  frighten- 
ing every  one  into  thinking,  '  He  has  got  some- 
thing; he  will  do  for  somebody  by  and  by  at 
night '  (Turner,  op.  cit.  320).  In  Florida  (Solomon 
Islands)  a  man  could  make  another  ill  by  secretly 
taking  a  morsel  of  the  latter's  food,  and  throwing  it 
into  a  spot  which  was  the  known  habitat  of  a 
certain  gnost  of  the  dead. 

4.  Malay  Archipelago. — Let  us  now  pass  to 
another  people  culturally  and  physically  most 
closely  related  to  the  Polynesians,  among  whom, 
in  consequence,  we  may  expect  to  find  disease 
attributed  to  gods  or  spirits,  and  cured  by  the 
offering  of  prayer  and  sacrifices  to  them — the 
inhabitants  of  the  Malay  Archipelago.  Thence  it 
will  be  possible  to  pass  to  the  Malay  Peninsula, 
and  to  trace  the  native  ideas  of  disease  westward 
to  the  Indian,  and  northward  to  the  Mongolian, 
peoples. 

Among  the  various  tribes,   and  in   the  various 


728 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Introductory  and  Primitive) 


islands  of  the  Malay  Archipelago,  there  is  consider- 
able diversity  in  their  beliefs  ;  but,  generally 
speaking,  their  spiritual  world  may  be  described 
as  inhabited  by  the  souls  of  animals  {e.g.  hawks, 
fowls,  pigs,  etc.),  by  spirits  of  the  river,  home, 
etc. ,  and  by  the  gods  of  thunder,  harvest,  life,  death, 
etc.,  one  of  whom  may  be  supreme  over  the  rest. 
Consequently,  of  the  two  main  causes  attributed  in 
this  region  to  disease,  evil  spirits  are  one  ;  and  the 
treatment  consists  in  effecting  the  departure  of 
the  evil  spirit  either  by  the  persuasions  of  prayers 
and  sacrifices  or  by  the  more  cogent  means  of 
magical  charms  (Timor,  Celebes,  Bali,  Java, 
Sumatra).  The  ceremony  is  often  attended  with 
much  noise  of  gong-  and  drum-beating.  Com- 
monly, e.g.  in  Borneo,  Ceram,  Timor  Laut,  Buro 
(cf.  Fraze'r,  GB2,  1900,  iii.  97  f . ),  the  evil  spirit  or 
the  disease — for  it  is  difficult  to  separate  cause  from 
effect — is  induced  to  enter  a  well-provisioned  model 
boat,  which  is  made  to  sail  down  the  river,  carrying 
its  noxious  burden  out  to  sea.  This  custom  of 
sending  away  the  disease  down  river  extends 
throughout  the  Malay  Peninsula  to  Burma,  Siam, 
Annam,  and  even  to  Ceylon.  Among  the  Milano 
of  Sarawak  the  ceremony  is  performed  in  the 
following  way  : 

The  medicine-man  (prang  bayoh),  having  decided  which  spirit 
(antu)  is  responsible  for  the  disease,  returns  home  and  prepares 
a  log;  of  sago  palm  cut  in  the  image  of  that  antu.  This  image, 
or  dakan,  may  be  enclosed  in  the  model  of  a  house  or  a  boat. 
The  patient's  room  is  decorated  with  coloured  cloths,  flowers  of 
the  areca  palm,  and  leaves  fantastically  plaited  to  represent 
objects,  especially  birds.  A  swing  of  rattan  is  erected,  and 
plaited  leaves  connect  it  with  the  receptacle  containing  the 
dakan,  so  that  the  spirit  may  enter  the  latter  after  having  been 
summoned  by  the  orang  bayoh  to  the  swing.  Several  people 
may  successively  mount  the  swing,  swaying  their  bodies  in  every 
possible  attitude,  to  the  sound  of  drums  played  in  the  back- 
ground. Himself  swaying  on  the  swing,  the  orang  bayoh  recites 
'  almost  in  a  monotone  an  incantation  in  the  old  language,  ad- 
dressed to  the  spirit,  begging  him  to  come  down  and  take  the 
Bickness  out  of  the  patient's  body '  (Lawrence  and  Hewitt,  J  A I 
xxxviii.  [1908]  391).  '  The  whole  incantation  is  a  succession  of 
appeals  ...  to  the  spirits,  who  come  gradually  nearer  and 
nearer  until  the  chant  addresses  them  as  if  they  were  just  out- 
side the  house,  and  finally  as  though  present  in  the  room  '  (ib. 
408).  At  length  the  medicine-man  falls  from  the  swing  appar- 
ently insensible  ;  and  after  recovery  he  crosses  to  the  patient, 
muttering  incantations,  sprinkling  yellow  rice,  and  waving  over 
him  an  areca  flower.  Whenever  the  swing  is  unoccupied,  an 
areca  flower  is  hung  across  it.  Finally,  the  patient  himself  may 
be  transferred  to  the  swing,  and  now,  when  the  long-besought 
spirit  is  declared  to  be  present,  the  patient  and  the  orang  bayoh 
proceed  to  enter  the  boat  or  house,  the  latter  spitting  betel-nut 
juice  on  the  dakan,  pouring  water  over  it,  and  then  sprinkling 
the  drops  over  the  patient's  body,  still  murmuring  incantations. 
Next  day  the  dakan,  provided  with  padi  and  yellow  rice  and 
adorned  with  areca  flowers,  is  taken  in  procession  to  a  stream, 
where  it  is  left  to  rot  in  its  receptacle,  except  when  the  receptacle 
takes  the  form  of  a  boat.  In  that  case,  the  boat  is  decorated 
with  flags,  manned  with  a  crew,  and  armed  with  cannon  all  of 
pith,  and  it  is  made  to  float  down  the  river  or  towed  out  to  sea. 
No  Milano,  save  the  orang  bayoh,  will  dare  to  touch  the  dakan 
after  the  performance  of  this  ceremony.  Generally  there  is  a 
'  sound,  logical  connection  between  the  sickness  and  dakan 
used,'  the  Bpirits  of  the  water  being  responsible  for  dysentery, 
those  of  the  air  for  headache  and  fever,  those  of  the  jungle  for 
malaria,  swellings  of  the  legs,  and  other  diseases  attendant  on 
jungle  life  (ib.  393). 

This  account  is  interesting  as  showing  the  com- 
plexity of  the  ritual  which  may  be  attained  in 
endeavouring  to  drive  the  evil  into  a  boat,  which 
is  then  floated  out  to  sea.  The  ceremony  in  one 
form  or  another  is  spread,  as  we  have  stated, 
throughout  the  Malay-peopled  countries  ;  it  is  also 
found  in  the  Solomon  Islands,  which  perhaps  it 
reached  with  the  advent  of  the  areca  or  betel-nut 
from  Malaysia.  The  above  account  is  also  interest- 
ing, inasmuch  as  it  introduces  certain  new  features 
— the  use  of  the  swing  in  driving  out  the  disease, 
the  transference  of  the  disease  (or  evil  spirit)  to  an 
image,  the  swooning  of  the  medicine-man,  and  the 
attribution  of  different  diseases  to  different  spirits 
or  causes. 

In  some  cases  a  more  simple  and  less  public  form  of  treatment 
is  observed.  The  dakan,  after  having  been  incarnated  by  the 
spirit  (antu),  is  taken  by  the  medicine-man  into  the  jungle,  or 
hung  on  a  tree,  i.e.  in  the  air,  or  placed  in  the  river,  accord- 


ing as  the  spirit's  real  home  is  jungle,  air,  or  water  (ib.  390).  In 
Amboyna  a  white  cock  is  used,  with  which  the  patient  is  rubbed. 
It  is  then  placed  on  a  model  boat  and  sent  out  to  sea  (Frazer, 
GB2  iii.  99). 

The  swooning  of  the  medicine-man  brings  us  to 
another  important  feature  in  the  cure  of  disease 
among  primitive  peoples.  So  far  as  we  have  con- 
sidered the  mental  state  of  the  individual  at  all,  it 
has  been  that  of  the  patient,  not  that  of  the 
doctor.  It  is  true  that  in  certain  parts  of  New 
Guinea  and  Melanesia  the  medicine-man  finds  that 
his  magic  is  more  efficacious  if  he  enters  upon  it  in 
a  fasting  state  or  in  other  ways  maltreats  himself. 
But  probably  in  these  peoples  there  is  not  that 
mental  instability  which  is  to  be  found  among  the 
Malayan  races,  leading,  under  provocation,  to  loss 
of  consciousness,  auto-hypnosis,  or  other  forms  of 
change  in  '  personality,'  such  as  are  exemplified  in 
running  amok  and  in  latah.  The  altered  mental 
state  of  the  medicine-man  during  his  treatment  of 
disease  is  well  exemplified  in  the  second  of  the  two 
main  ideas  in  regard  to  disease  which  prevail  in 
the  Malay  Archipelago.  One  of  these  ideas  we 
have  already  considered,  viz.  possession  or  visita- 
tion by  an  evil  spirit.  The  other  idea,  also 
wide-spread  throughout  this  region,  extending  to 
Burma,  the  Andaman  Islands,  Tibet,  and  Northern 
Asia  (Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  1873,  i.  437),  is 
that  disease  is  due  to  a  wandering  of  the  soul. 
Just  as  in  death  the  soul  has  finally  left  the  body, 
so  in  sickness  it  is  temporarily  absent ;  therefore  it 
has  to  be  pursued  and  caught  by  the  medicine-man. 
The  writer  happened  to  see  this  ceremony  of  catch- 
ing the  wandering  soul  during  a  chance  evening 
stroll  along  one  of  the  long  verandahs  of  a  house  in 
Sarawak,  Borneo.  It  has  been  picturesquely  de- 
scribed elsewhere  (Hose  and  McDougall,  JAIxxxi. 
[1901]  184),  and  may  be  thus  summarized  :    . 

The  medicine-man,  after  chanting  several  verses  with  closed 
eyes,  receives,  in  a  dreamy  state,  his  war-coat,  shield,  and 
sword  (parang)  from  the  hands  of  an  assistant.  With  a  short 
wand  he  sprinkles  water  on  his  parang,  and  then  on  each  of  the 
patients  ranged  before  him.  A  young  fowl  is  handed  to  him. 
Before  cutting  ofE  its  head,  be  prays  its  soul  to  take  a  message 
to  the  supreme  god  to  remove  all  sickness  and  to  preserve  the 
people  from  harm.  Then,  waving  the  bird  over  each  patient 
and  murmuring  some  archaic  formulae,  he  kills  it  and  sprinkles 
its  blood  over  the  patients.  With  a  second  fowl  in  his  hand,  he 
describes  the  wanderings  of  his  own  spirit,  how  he  has  to  cross 
a  great  river,  where  finally  he  meets  with  the  soul  of  one  of  his 
sick  patients.  He  lays  his  fingers  on  the  head  of  one  of  the 
patients,  and  at  that  moment  the  patient's  soul  is  believed  to 
re-enter  his  body.  At  the  same  time  he  ties  a  piece  of  rattan  cord 
round  the  patient's  right  wrist,  to  confine  the  soul  to  the  body. 
The  same  performance  is  repeated  in  the  case  of  the  other 
patients,  and  then  the  medicine-man,  after  further  chanting, 
during  which  his  own  soul  is  returning  to  his  body,  ties  a  piece 
of  the  string  round  his  own  wrist.  The  second  fowl  is  now 
killed,  and  the  blood-stained  parang  is  wiped  on  the  arm  of  the 
patient,  and  ib  used  to  cut  off  the  ends  of  the  wrist-string.  The 
chanting  continues,  until  suddenly  the  medicine-man  gives  a 
slight  stagger  and  recovers  consciousness.  During  the  ceremony 
he  had  been  heedless  of  his  surroundings ;  and,  from  experi- 
ments which  the  writer  knows  to  have  been  made  at  other  times 
on  such  medicine-men,  the  claim  is  probably  correct. 

The  use  of  strings  in  the  cure  of  disease  (from 
which  perhaps  the  unthinking  use  of  ligatures 
was  derived)  extends  over  other  parts  of  Oceania 
(e.g.  Queensland)  which  we  have  already  studied. 
In  the  Gazelle  Peninsula  of  New  Britain,  threads 
are  prepared  and  are  charmed  in  order  to  cure  and 
to  prevent  disease.  For  the  former  purpose,  they 
are  worn  round  the  affected  part ;  for  the  latter, 
round  the  neck  (Parkinson,  op.  cit.  119). 

In  the  Banks  Islands,  a  charm  consisting  of  '  a 
bit  of  human  bone,  a  fragment  of  coral,  a  splinter 
of  wood  or  of  an  arrow  by  which  a  man  has  died,'  is 
bound  up  with  leaves  and  placed  in  the  victim's 
path  to  strike  him  with  disease.  This  charm, 
called  talamatai,  depends  for  its  efficacy  on  the 
tying  and  binding  tight  with  fibre  (Codrington, 
op.  cit.  204).  The  use  of  archaic  incantations  is 
also  common  in  these  parts.  Frequently,  words 
which  are  not  understood  are  borrowed  from  other 
tribes.     We  have  already  stated  that  a  man  may 


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729 


recognize  his  inability  to  cause  disease,  yet  may 
fear  the  existence  of  that  power  in  others.  So, 
frequently  a  tribe  may  consider  another  tribe 
specially  versed  in  the  causation  or  treatment  of 
disease,  and  may  use  its  language  or  summon 
members  of  it  to  its  aid. 

In  the  Malay  Archipelago,  bits  of  wood,  stones, 
or  rags  are  sometimes  drawn  out  of  the  patient's 
body,  as  demonstrating  the  cure  of  the  disease. 
The  medicine-man's  chest  will  often  contain  curi- 
ously twisted  roots,  knotty  sticks,  pebbles,  coloured 
marbles,  pieces  of  quartz,  etc.,  many  of  which,  he 
claims,  are  revealed  to  him  as  medicines  by  benevo- 
lent spirits  in  his  dreams.  It  is  said  that  by  means 
of  the  quartz  crystal  the  medicine-man  can  diagnose 
the  disease,  see  the  soul,  and  catch  it  in  its  wander- 
ings (Ling  Roth,  Natives  of  Sarawak  and  British 
N.  Borneo,  London,  1896,  i.  273).  Possibly  this 
is  another  example  of  the  susceptibility  of  the 
Malayan  to  auto-hypnosis  (crystal-gazing). 

Another  important  feature  of  Malayan  medicine 
consists  in  the  prominence  of  women  doctors. 
There  are  instances  of  this  feature  throughout 
Oceania,  but  in  certain  parts  of  the  Malay  Archi- 
pelago it  reaches  its  highest  development.  It  is 
stated  that  in  Borneo,  for  instance,  at  least  in  the 
past,  a  certain  class  of  medicine-men,  on  adopting 
their  profession,  were  emasculated,  dressed  in 
women  s  clothes,  and  thereafter  treated  as  women 
(Ling  Roth,  ib.  i.  270,  282).  At  the  present  day 
many  cures  in  that  country  are  undertaken  by 
women,  and  most  of  the  spirits  invoked  by  the 
medicine-men  receive  the  prefix  ini,  '  grandmother ' 
— perhaps  in  accordance  with  the  former  import- 
ance of  womanhood  in  the  treatment  of  disease. 

In  the  Malay  Archipelago,  betel-nut  and  pepper 
are  the  common  outward  remedies  for  almost  any 
disease.  Turmeric,  honey,  spices,  and  onions  are 
taken  internally.  Cholera  is  treated  by  rubbing 
with  kayu  putih  oil,  and  by  water  from  certain 
sacred  jars.  Bleeding  is  practised ;  cupping  is 
common — usually  by  means  of  a  bamboo  cane,  the 
air  within  which  is  exhausted  either  by  suction  or 
by  lighting  a  fire  at  the  upper  end.  A  wound  may 
be  cauterized  by  burning  with  a  red-hot  wire.  A 
patient  may  be  exposed  to  the  smoke  of  a  fire 
lighted  below  a  bamboo  grating  on  which  he  sits. 

5.  Malay  Peninsula. — Coming  now  to  the  Malay 
Peninsula,  we  find  that  diseases  become  more  dis- 
tinctly personified  as  demons.  Each  disease  is 
(not,  is  caused  by)  a  different  demon  ;  the  demons 
all  arise  from  the  thunder-god,  who  sends  them  by 
the  winds,  because  of  the  sins  of  the  people.  There 
are  ape-demons,  black-dog-demons,  tiger-demons, 
jungle-  and  river-demons,  any  one  of  which  may 
cause  disease.  Certain  new  features,  possibly  of 
Indian  or  Chinese  origin,  begin  to  make  their  ap- 
pearance here.  Amulets  now  become  important. 
Women  obtain  protection  from  disease  by  wearing 
combs,  with  inscribed  patterns  on  them,  and  the 
patterns  cause  the  disease-bearing  wind  to  fall  to 
the  ground  until  the  wearer  has  passed.  A  Semang 
woman  may  possess  twenty  or  thirty  such  combs, 
which  apparently  depend  for  their  efficacy  on  the 
particular  pattern  that  they  bear.  The  men's 
'  talismans  are  .  .  .  incised  on  the  quivers  and 
charm-holders  '  (Skeat  and  Blagden,  Pagan  Races 
of  the  Malay  Peninsula,  London,  1906,  i.  423). 
There  is  supposed  to  be  some  connexion  between 
these  patterns  and  the  flowers  which  the  good  god, 
Pie,  at  one  time  allotted  as  remedies  for  the 
various  diseases.  The  diseases  were  also  thought 
to  be  laid  by  the  winds  on  the  parasitic  plants  of 
trees,  between  death  and  burial  of  the  victims. 
Now,  so  runs  the  legend  (which,  however,  must  be 
accepted  with  caution),  as  new  diseases  have  arisen 
since  Pie  dwelt  on  earth,  and  since  the  vegetable 
kingdom  then  apportioned    by   him   to  different 


diseases  is  exhausted,  such  illnesses  as  smallpox 
and  cholera  '  have  no  rest,  but,  as  soon  as  they  have 
killed  one  man,  fall  straightway  upon  another  even 
before  the  soul  of  the  first  has  left  the  body  '  (ib.  ii. 
212).  Among  the  Mantra  (of  Malacca)  also  amulets 
are  much  in  use  ;  they  are  made  of  pieces  of  tur- 
meric or  other  substance,  strung  on  a  shred  of  bark, 
and  worn  round  the  neck,  wrists,  or  waist.  The 
Sakai  have  bamboos  decorated  with  magical  pat- 
terns, which  are  kept  from  the  public  gaze  (ib.  ii. 
252). 

Incense  is  used  in  the  Malay  Peninsula.  The 
Blandas  of  Selangor  exorcize  the  evil  demon  by 
burning  benzoin  and  invoking  the  spirits  (hantu) 
of  tigers  or  elephants  or  monkeys  to  enter  the 
medicine-man's  body.  The  patient  lies  on  his  back 
within  a  shelter  of  nibong-pa,\m  leaves.  As  soon 
as  the  spirit  enters  the  medicine-man,  he  brushes 
the  patient  seven  times  from  head  to  foot  with 
certain  leaves,  repeating  an  incantation  which 
evidently  is  intended  to  expel  the  demon  from  the 
body.  Among  the  Sakai  the  invalid  is  similarly 
beaten  with  leaves,  after  a  censer  of  burning 
benzoin  has  been  swung  over  his  couch.  The 
object  here  is  to  drive  the  demon  within  a  cage 
which  is  suspended  over  the  head  of  the  patient 
(ib.  ii.  257). 

Trees  also  assume  more  importance.  Disease 
may  be  cured  by  removing  roots  and  stumps  which 
are  suspected  to  be  the  home  of  the  demon,  and  by 
casting  saplings  into  the  jungle  so  that  evil  spirits 
may  accompany  them. 

Among  all  the  peoples  of  Eastern  Asia  sticks  are 
of  great  value  for  the  treatment  of  and  protection 
from  disease.  Thus  among  the  Ainus  the  demons 
of  disease  are  propitiated  by  making  them  what  is 
called  inao.  An  inao  is  a  whittled  wand  ;  groups 
of  inao  are  collectively  called  misa.  They  are 
sometimes  worshipped  as  messengers  to  the  gods ; 
sometimes  they  are  regarded  as  offerings  to  the 
gods ;  or  they  may  be  regarded  as  mere  charms. 
'  So,  when  a  person  falls  sick,  the  elders  often 
meet  together  and  make  inao  of  this  [willow]  tree. 
After  they  have  been  worshipped  they  are  taken 
out  to  the  sacred  place  and  stuck  up  among  the  misa' 
(J.  Batchelor,  op.  cit.  88).  Sticks  of  elder  about 
four  feet  high  are  set  up  in  a  village  for  protection 
from  a  prevailing  epidemic  (see  art.  Ainus).  So,  too, 
in  the  Andaman  Islands,  when  an  epidemic  occurs, 
the  medicine-man,  who  is  called  6k,o-pavad  (lit.  = 
dreamer),  brandishing  a  burning  log,  bids  the  evil 
spirit  retire,  and  plants  before  each  hut  stakes 
painted  in  stripes  with  black  bees'  wax,  the  smell 
of  which  helps  to  keep  the  demons  at  a  distance 
(Man,  JAI  xii._[1883]  97).  In  the  Malay  Archi- 
pelago, sticks  with  fine  shavings  attached  also  play 
a  similar  part.  Among  the  Tibeto-Burman  peoples, 
a  kind  of  arbour  is  erected  before  the  sick  man's 
house,  made  of  grass  and  boughs  supported  on  four 
poles,  round  which  are.  hung  little  balls  of  split 
cane  rolled  tightly  together.  Strands  of  cane  are 
stretched  round  the  house  from  this  arbour.  The 
demons  cannot  pass  through  this  barrier,  conse- 
quently those  already  inside  the  house  cannot  be 
assisted  by  others  from  without  (Shakespear,  JAI 
xxxix.  [1909]  378  f.). 

6.  Africa. — In  Africa  illness  is  commonly  attrib- 
uted either  to  the  machinations  of  an  enemy  or 
— more  usually  perhaps — to  resentment  on  the  part 
of  the  ghost  of  a  dead  man  owing  to  the  disrespect 
with  which  he  has  been  treated.  In  West  Africa, 
apparently,  it  may  even  be  one  of  the  sick  man's 
own  spirits  which  thus  vents  his  annoyance  on  the 
body  (Tylor,  ii.  130).  Almost  universally,  before 
treatment  is  begun,  the  name  of  the  ghost  must  be 
discovered.  Among  the  Nandi,  this  takes  place  by 
divination.  Some  near  relative  is  sent  for,  who 
takes  four  (for  a  woman,  three)  stalks  of  the  castor 


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DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Introductory  and  Primitive) 


oil  plant  or  of  millet,  and  tries  to  stand  each 
upright  in  a  fragment  of  pot  containing  water, 
which  is  placed  near  the  patient's  bed.  As  he 
takes  each  stalk,  he  calls  on  one  of  the  deceased 
relatives  of  the  patient  by  name.  When  one  of 
the  stalks  stands  erect,  he  exclaims,  '  I  have  got 
thee,  O  medicine-man,'  and  the  patient  solemnly 
kicks  it  over  with  his  big  toe.  The  stalks  are 
distributed  in  various  places  in  or  around  the 
house  ;  a  little  mud  or  sand  mixed  with  the  water 
is  smeared  on  the  forehead  and  throat  of  the 
invalid ;  '  the  rest,  together  with  some  eleusine 
grain,  beer,  and  milk,  is  sprinkled  between  the 
bed  and  the  door  and  also  thrown  outside  the 
house,'  the  relative  beseeching  the  ghost  to  depart 
in  return  for  the  food  which  is  being  offered  it 
(A.  C.  Hollis,  The  Nandi,  London,  1909,  p.  69). 
Among  the  A-Kikuyu  (W.  Scoresby  Routledge, 
With  a  Prehistoric  People,  the  Akikuyu  of  British 
East  Africa,  London,  1910,  p.  263)  such  divination 
is  practised  by  arranging  a  number  of  counters 
in  equal  heaps  and  observing  the  remaining  unit. 
Among  the  Baganda  small  pieces  of  buffalo-  or 
cow-hide  are  cast  (J.  Koscoe,  JAI  xxxii.  [1902]  40). 
Among  the  Bangala  on  the  Upper  Congo  River  the 
nanga,  or  medicine-man,  addresses  questions  to  the 
patient  to  discover  what  particular  bwete,  or  spirit, 
is  causing  the  disease.  He  beats  his  drum,  talks 
excitedly,  and  chants  various  incomprehensible 
phrases  before  the  patient.  '  The  lilt  of  the  metre 
together  with  the  rhythm  of  the  drum  make  the 
patient  sway  to  and  fro  and  have  a  hypnotic  effect 
on  him.'  His  body  jerks  and  twitches,  as  he  is 
now  plied  with  questions  by  the  nanga.  In  this 
way  the  cause  of  the  illness  is  found  out  (J.  H. 
Weeks,  JAI  xl.  [1910]  425).  In  the  Sudan  the 
writer  received  a  description  of  a  similar  divi- 
nation by  means  of  music ;  the  rite,  which  is 
known  as  zar,  is  said  to  be  employed  even  in  Cairo, 
among  women.  The  patient  is  visited  several 
times  by  the  practitioner,  who  wears  a  different 
coloured  dress  and  sings  a  different  incantation  at 
each  visit.  Ultimately  one  dress  or  incantation  is 
discovered  which  presumably  by  its  action  on  the 
demon  causes  the  patient  to  swoon.  This  know- 
ledge having  been  obtained,  the  patient  is  seated 
astride  a  live  sheep,  and  the  same  dress  and  in- 
cantation are  employed  again.  After  the  patient's 
second  swoon  the  sheep  is  killed,  the  blood  is 
smeared  over  her,  and  the  meat  is  partly  sacrificed, 
partly  given  her  to  eat. 

The  use  of  animals  in  the  cure  of  disease  is  a 
characteristic  feature  throughout  Africa.  Thus 
among  the  Hottentots,  the  hand  of  a  sick  patient 
is  introduced  within  the  leg  of  an  ox,  which  is  then 
killed  and  eaten  by  married  people  who  have  chil- 
dren. A  child  recently  recovered  from  a  severe 
illness  is  dragged  through  an  arch  over  which  an 
ox  is  made  to  stand.  The  ox  is  killed,  and  eaten 
only  by  married  people  who  have  children  (Frazer, 
(op.  cit.  iii.  405).  Among  the  Bondei,  a  white  chicken 
is  tied  to  the  head  of  the  bed-post ;  and  later,  when 
it  has  grown  to  a  fowl,  it  is  taken  to  a  tall  tree, 
killed,  and  eaten.  The  medicine-man  and  patient, 
on  their  return,  take  care  not  to  look  behind 
them  (Dale,  JAI  xxv.  [1896]  219).  In  these  cases 
it  appears  that  some  good  influence  is  derived 
by  eating  an  animal  which  has  been  brought 
into  contact  with  a  person  recently  affected  by 
disease. 

But,  generally  speaking,  the  animal  is  used  only 
for  the  transference  of  the  disease  to  it.  Thus,  in 
Bechuanaland,  a  king  after  an  illness  seats  himself 
on  an  ox  stretched  on  the  ground,  the  head  of 
which  is  then  held  in  water  until  it  dies  of  suffo- 
cation. To  cure  a  headache,  a  man  will  sometimes 
beat  a  lamb  or  goat  until  it  falls  down,  with  the 
object  of  transferring  to  it  his  pain  (Frazer,  op.  cit. 


iii.  14).  A  Guinea  negro  will  tie  a  live  chicken 
round  his  neck  to  cure  disease  (ib. ).  In  such  cases 
the  animal  or  bird  is  generally  driven  away  or 
killed.  In  the  Upper  Congo,  the  mieta  (spirits), 
'  when  they  are  troubling  a  family,  can  be  driven 
into  animals  by  the  nanga  ya  bioaka  ['medicine- 
man of  the  mat'],  and  killed  by  him'  (Weeks, 
op.  cit.  378).  Of  all  the  nanga,  this  'medicine- 
man of  the  mat '  was  the  most  powerful.  On  his 
arrival  at  the  sick-house,  he  put  stakes  into  the 
ground,  and,  by  tying  a  mat  round  them,  made 
an  enclosure,  in  which  he  sat  speaking  to  the  vari- 
ous mieta,  answering  '  himself  in  assumed  voices, 
pretending  he  was  holding  a  conversation  witb 
them '  ( ib.  383).  '  A  string  was  tied  from  the  roof 
of  his  clients'  house  to  one  of  the  stakes  in  his  mat 
enclosure,  and  the  end  of  the  string  dropped  inside. 
From  this  string  there  dangled  dried  plantain 
leaves,  twigs,  etc'  {ib.).  When  he  was  tired  he 
shook  the  leaves — a  signal  for  the  lads  sitting  out- 
side the  enclosure  to  start  beating  their  drums, 
and  for  the  folk  to  sing  their  chorus.  Thus  he 
would  spend  several  days  in  trying  to  find  out 
which  of  the  mieta  was  troubling  the  family. 
Finally,  he  makes 

*  a  terrrfic  noise  inside  the  mat,  as  though  he  were  fighting  for 
his  life.  Shouts,  screams,  derisive  laughter,  whacks,  thuds, 
and  smacks  proceed  from  the  interior  of  the  mat,  and  at  last 
the  iianga  rushes  out,  panting  and  sweating  profusely,  holding 
in  his  hand  a  bleeding  head  [really  the  head  of  a  rat  or  lizard, 
but  believed  by  the  people  to  belong  to  a  mysterious  animal 
dug  up  from  within  the  mat],  and  declaring  that  he  has  killed 
the  animal  that  was  possessed  by  the  spirit  that  was  troubling 
the  family  ■  {ib.  384). 

So  in  Uganda,  the  evil  spirit,  which  is  supposed 
to  dwell  at  the  top  of  the  centre  hut-pole,  is  caught 
by  raising  a  buffalo's  or  cow's  horn,  within  which 
shells  are  placed  so  as  to  make  a  squeaking  noise 
when  the  horn  is  shaken,  which  is  supposed  to  be 
the  spirit  of  the  horn.  When  the  evil  spirit  is'  thus 
caught,  the  horn  is  simply  covered  with  a  piece  of 
bark-cloth,  placed  in  a  water-pot,  and  thrown  into 
the  river  or  burnt  in  the  jungle  (Roscoe,  JAIxxxi. 
[1901]  125 1.). 

In  addition,  of  course,  to  the  determination  of 
the  particular  spirit  causing  the  disease,  and  to  the 
transference  of  it  to  an  animal,  other  therapeutic 
measures,  some  of  considerable  complexity,  are  pre- 
scribed by  the  medicine-man.  Among  the  Bondei, 
dieting  is  common :  certain  objects  of  food  are 
tabued.  Among  the  Bageshu  (Roscoe,  JAI  xxxix. 
[1909]  187),  '  sometimes  herbs  are  rubbed  over  the 
sick  man  and  buried  in  the  path.  It  is  believed 
that  the  first  person  who  steps  over  the  herbs  will 
contract  the  disease.  .  .  .'  In  the  Upper  Congo, 
cupping  is  often  practised,  usually  by  sucking  a 
horn  placed  over  the  skin.  Massage  is  a  common 
treatment,  often  terminated  by  the  pretended  ex- 
traction of  a  small  object — a  palm-nut,  stone,  or 
piece  of  iron — from  the  patient's  body.  Enemas 
and  fomentations  are  also  used.  Rheumatic  pains 
in  the  limbs  are  relieved  by  tying  certain  medi- 
cines to  a  brass  rod,  which  is  then  worn  by  the 
patient.  Knotted  strings  are  tied  round  the  suf- 
ferer's wrists  and  feet.  Among  the  people  of 
British  Central  Africa  (Stannus,  JAI  xl.  [1910] 
285),  many  children's  illnesses  are  treated  by  boil- 
ing certain  leaves  in  water  and  holding  the  child 
over  the  medicated  vapour -bath.  Bleeding  is 
arrested  by  the  powdered  bark  of  an  astringent 
tree.  Internal  remedies  are  only  sparingly  used. 
The  treatment  of  snake-bite  is  by  ligature. 

Among  the  A-Kamba  (British  East  Africa)  the 
medicine-man's  gourd  commonly  contains  pebbles, 
hard  seeds,  nuts,  and  such  objects  as  the  bone  of  a 
lion's  paw,  a  cock's  spur,  pieces  of  porcupine  quills, 
etc.     He  also  carries  various  powders,  e.g.  a  grey 

Eowder  made  from  certain  trees,  and  believed  to 
e  an  antidote  to  magic  and  poison;  a  white  powder 
called  iga  (also  used  by  the  A-Kikiiyu,  and  called  by 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (American) 


731 


them  ira) ;  a  blackish  mixture  prepared  from  some 
tree,  and  used  to  cure  swellings  of  the  limbs ;  a  dark 
medicine  contained  in  a  gazelle's  horn,  which  is  of 
value  when  pointed  at  the  abdomen  of  a  woman  in 
labour ;  and  a  medicine  which,  when  mixed  with 
water,  is  given  internally  for  diarrhoea  (C.  W. 
Hobley,  Ethnology  of  A-Kamba  and  other  East 
African  Tribes,  Cambridge,  1910,  p.  100).  The 
A-Kikiiyu  sew  up  sword-slashes  and  spear-stabs. 
Their  chembu  is  made  of  castor-oil,  sheep  fat,  honey, 
goat's  milk,  water  of  various  streams  in  Kikiiyu, 
urine  of  a  male  and  female  goat  and  sheep,  magumo 
wool,  and  the  milky  sap  of  wild  figs.  A  little  of 
this  mixture  placed  on  the  penis  cures  hajmaturia  ; 
it  is  also  good  for  a  cough.  Indeed,  it  will  revive 
a  dying  man  if  he  be  touched  with  it  on  the  fore- 
head, tongue,  navel,  buttocks,  and  toes,  and  if 
some  he  passed  five  times  round  his  head.  Other 
Kikiiyu  medicines  are  made  from  seeds,  leaves, 
roots,  and  from  the  ashes  of  roots  and  barks.  They 
are  usually  kept  in  the  form  of  a  dry  powder,  and 
are  applied  by  touching  the  patient  much  in  the 
manner,  described.  Expectoration  plays  an  im- 
portant part  in  the  ritual  of  treatment,  the  patient 
at  the  same  time  exclaiming,  '  I  expel  what  is  had ' 
(Routledge,  op.  cit.  262;  Hobley,  JAI  xl.  [1910] 
448). 

7.  Central  and  S.  America. — Among  the  Indians 
of  America  we  naturally  look  for  those  character- 
istics in  their  attitude  towards  disease  which  we 
have  met  with  in  Eastern  Asia  and  Malayo-Poly- 
nesia  (see  'American'  section  of  this  article,  below). 
As  regards  S.  America,  in  South  Chili  the  medicine- 
man is  dressed  as  a  woman,  and  the  great  nervous 
excitement,  followed  by  a  state  of  coma  or  trance 
into  which  he  is  thrown,  forcibly  recalls  the  sha- 
manistic  condition  existing  in  Asia  and  Malaysia. 
But  there  is  one  striking  feature  in  S.  America 
which  is  on  a  distinctly  lower  plane  of  culture,  viz. 
the  persistent  attribution  of  disease  to  material 
objects.  Thus,  among  the  Araucanos  of  Chili,  the 
principal  god,  formerly  called  Pillan,  the  thunder- 
god,  was  served  by  malignant  spirits  called  Hue- 
cuvus,  who  could  transform  themselves  into  any 
shape  and  produce  invisible  wounds  by  means  of  in- 
visible weapons.  All  disease  is  attributed  by  them 
to  evil  spirits,  which  produce  an  invisible  wound 
or  introduce  some  foreign  body  within  the  victim. 
Not  only  Divine  beings,  hut  the  living  and  the 
dead,  may,  as  malign  spirits,  assume  a  form,  e.g. 
snake,  ant,  or  lizard,  which  may  produce  disease 
(R.  E.  Latcham,  JAI  xxxix.  [1909]  346).  Conse- 
quently diseases  are  treated  first  by  discovering 
their  source,  and  then  by  expelling  the  harmful 
substance  from  the  body.  In  Central  Brazil  the 
'  good '  medicine-man  finds  the  poison  which  has 
been  sent  to  the  victim  by  the  '  bad '  medicine- 
man, and  lays  it  in  water,  thus  rendering  it  harm- 
less. The  sorcerer  may  have  obtained  some  hair 
or  blood  from  the  victim,  which  he  then  mixes  with 
the  poison  of  wasps,  ants,  and  other  insects,  pre- 
pared with  oil  and  certain  resins  in  a  calabash. 
But,  if  he  cannot  obtain  blood  or  hair,  he  poisons  a 
twig  or  a  woollen  thread.  He  then  introduces  this 
into  the  victim's  house,  or  shoots  it  with  an  arrow 
into  a  tree  near  where  he  lives.  The  twig  is  sup- 
posed to  wound  the  victim ;  and  so  the  '  good ' 
medicine-man  sucks  the  wound  until  the  twig  (or 
woollen  thread)  appears,  and  then  he  spits  it  out. 
Tobacco-narcosis  is  a  very  common  mode  of  treat- 
ment, the  medicine-man  blowing  tobacco  smoke 
over  the  patient's  body,  kneading  it  with  great 
force,  while  the  medicine-man's  groans  and  lamenta- 
tions resound  through  the  village.  At  length  he 
begins  to  suck,  and  ultimately  expectorates  the 
cause  of  the  illness  (K.  von  den  Steinen,  Unter  den 
Naturvblkern  Zentral-Brasiliens,  Berlin,  1897,  p. 
300). 


Similarly,  in  Paraguay  the  witch-doctor  is  sup 
posed  to  have  the  power  of  introducing  beetles  into 
a  man's  stomach.  So,  when  a  man  is  ill,  he  sum- 
mons the  medicine-man,  who,  to  an  accompaniment 
of  rattles  and  the  excited  singing  of  his  assistants, 
spits  on  and  sucks  at  the  patient's  stomach  until  at 
length  he  produces  a  beetle,  a  palm-nut,  or  a  fish- 
bone. The  witch-doctors  usually  wear  ear-disks 
faced  '  with  bright  pieces  of  glass  or  bits  of  polished 
tin'  (S.  H.  C.  Hawtrey,  JAI  xxxi.  [1901]  291). 

Literature. — This  is  given  throughout  the  article.  The  only 
general  book  known  to  the  writer,  Max  Bartels'  Die  Medizin  der 
Naturvolker  (Leipzig,  1893),  cannot  be  strongly  recommended. 

C.  S.  Myers. 

DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (American).— 
As  certain  aspects  of  primitive  medicine  will  be 
treated  in  art.  Medicine-Men,  the  present  dis- 
cussion will  be  limited  to  the  consideration  of 
disease  itself  from  the  various  points  of  view  of  the 
American  aborigines'  ideas,  customs,  ceremonials, 
etc.,  connected  with  its  prevention,  relief,  and 
cure.  Among  a  race  as  widely  scattered  as  the 
American  Indians,  and  occupying,  for  long  periods 
of  time,  all  kinds  of  environments — from  the  Arctic 
north  to  the  tropical  south,  from  the  seashore  and 
coastal  regions  to  the  high  plateaus  and  mountain- 
ous areas  of  the  continent,  island  regions  like  the 
Caribbean,  arid  plains  like  those  of  the  south- 
western United  States  and  parts  of  south-western 
South  America,  the  thick  forests  and  well- watered 
lands  in  some  other  directions,  the  valleys  of  the 
great  rivers  and  the  basins  of  great  lakes — the  pre- 
valence of  diseases,  the  susceptibility  to  them,  the 
methods  of  treatment,  and  the  psychological  re- 
action to  the  general  situation  were  naturally 
subject  to  considerable  variation. 

1.  American  Indians  a  comparatively  healthy 
race. — At  the  time  of  the  Columbian  discovery, 
the  Indians  were,  on  the  whole,  a  healthy  people, 
and,  in  spite  of  the  effects  of  intertribal  wars  and 
their  attendant  evils,  were  holding  their  own  in 
point  of  numbers,  or,  as  some  authorities  believe, 
were  even  increasing  in  population,  especially  in 
some  parts  of  the  continent.  Our  knowledge  of 
diseases  among  the  American  Indians,  before  the 
coming  of  the  whites,  is  not  very  satisfactory  even 
for  the  semi-civilized  peoples  of  Mexico,  Central 
America,  and  Peru;  for  many  of  the  uncivilized 
tribes  of  both  North  and  South  America  the  data 
at  hand  are  scanty  indeed.  Where  direct  state- 
ments of  early  explorers,  missionaries,  pioneers, 
and  colonists  are  lacking,  certain  inferences  can 
be  made  from  the  mention  of  diseases  in  myths 
and  legends  and  cognate  folk-lore  material.  Dr. 
Hrdlicka,  our  best  and  most  recent  authority  on 
the  matter,  says  (Bull.  30  BE,  pt.  i.  [1907]  p.  540)  : 

'  The  condition  of  the  skeletal  remains,  the  testimony  of  early 
observers,  and  the  present  state  of  some  of  the  tribes  in  this 
regard,  warrant  the  conclusion  that  on  the  whole  the  Indian 
race  was  a  comparatively  healthy  one.  It  was  probably  spared 
at  least  some  of  the  epidemics  and  diseases  of  the  Old  World, 
such  as  smallpox  and  rachitis,  while  other  scourges,  such  as 
tuberculosis,  syphilis  (precolumbian),  typhus,  cholera,  scarlet 
fever,  cancer,  etc.,  were  rare,  if  occurring  at  all.  Taking  into 
consideration  the  warlike  nature  of  many  of  the  tribes  and  the 
evidence  presented  by  their  bones  (especially  the  skulls),  in- 
juries, etc.,  particularly  those  received  by  offensive  weapons, 
must  have  been  common,  although  fractures  are  less  frequent 
than  among  white  people.' 

Since  contact  with  the  whites,  a  marked  decrease 
in  numbers  has  taken  place  nearly  everywhere, 
the  causes  of  this  diminution  being  '  the  intro- 
duction of  diseases  (particularly  smallpox),  the 
spread  of  alcoholism,  syphilis,  and  especially  tuber- 
culosis .  .  .  and  increased  mortality  due  to  changes 
in  the  habits  of  the  people  through  the  encroach  ment 
of  civilization.'  Certain  tribes,  however,  are  now 
beginning  to  show  a  slight  increase  in  population, 
and  Dr.  Hrdlicka  thinks  that,  '  as  more  attention 
is  paid  to  the  hygienic  conditions  of  the  Indians, 
an  increase  comparable  with  that  in  whites  may  be 


732 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (American) 


expected  in  many  sections.'  The  writer  of  the 
present  artiele  has  pointed  out  several  cases  of 
such  increase  in  his  art.  '  Indians,  North  American  ' 
in  EBr  u,  xiv.  452.  Mixed  bloods  are  said  to  suffer, 
more  than  the  pure  bloods,  from  '  many  disorders 
and  diseases  known  to  the  whites,'  but  the  evidence 
in  this  matter  is  by  no  means  convincing. 

2.  Epidemics,  etc. — As  has  been  already  noted, 
epidemics  of  disease  appear  to  have  been  rare  in 
pre-Columbian  America.  According  to  Dr.  H.  U. 
Williams  (p.  342),  the  New  World,  up  to  the 
period  of  its  discovery  and  occupation  by  the 
whites,  offered  a  marked  contrast  to  the  Old  in 
the  fact  that  '  the  American  race,  during  its  sojourn 
of  some  thousands  of  years  apart  from  the  rest  of 
mankind,  developed  a  surprisingly  small  number 
of  infections  peculiar  to  it.'  Concerning  certain 
epidemics  and  wide-spread  outbreaks  of  disease 
contemporaneous  with  the  settlement  of  various 
parts  of  the  continent  by  Europeans,  it  is  still 
somewhat  doubtful  whether  the  infection  in  ques- 
tion came  from  Europe  (by  way  of  white  people, 
or,  possibly,  through  Indians  who  had  been  taken 
to  Europe)  or  was  of  native  origin.  An  interesting 
example  is  the  epidemic  among  the  Indians  of  New 
England  in  1616-1620,  of  which  a  critical  study 
has  recently  been  made  by  Dr.  Williams.  This 
pestilence,  which  was  accompanied  by  great  mor- 
tality among  the  Indians,  from  Cape  Cod  to  the 
Penobscot,  and  sporadically  outside  these  limits, 
but  from  -which  the  English  seem  to  have  been 
mostly  immune,  may  have  been  a  variety  of  the 
'  bubonic  '  plague  prevalent  in  London  during  the 
early  years  of  the  17th  cent.,  and  transferred  to 
America  by  sailors,  colonists,  or  returning  Indians. 
It  could  hardly  have  been  smallpox,  as  some  have 
thought ;  this  disease  raged  among  the  Indians 
later  on  (e.g.  in  1633).  The  idea  that  it  may  have 
been  carried  to  the  Indians  by  certain  shipwrecked 
French  sailors  held  captive  among  them  is  also  to 
be  considered.  The  European  settlers  of  the  period 
were  prone  to  regard  such  calamities  as  visitations 
of  God,  just  as  many  Indian  tribes  looked  upon 
them  as  the  work  of  evil  spirits,  etc.  The  idea 
also  prevailed  among  the  Indians  that  epidemics  of 
diseases  unknown  before  the  advent  of  the  whites 
were  in  some  way  let  loose  among  the  natives  by 
the  English  and  other  white  peoples.  Interesting 
on  this  point  is  the  following  extract  from  Winslow's 
Good  News  from  New  England  (1624),  cited  by  Dr. 
Williams  (p.  345) : 

'  Here  let  me  not  omit  one  notable,  though  wicked,  practice  of 
this  Tisquantum  (Squanto) ;  who  to  the  end  he  might  possess 
his  countrymen  with  the  greater  fear  of  us,  and  bo  consequently 
of  himself,  told  them  we  had  the  plague  buried  in  our  store- 
house ;  which,  at  our  pleasure,  we  could  send  forth  to  what 
place  or  people  we  would  and  destroy  them  therewith,  though 
we  stirred  not  from  home.  Being,  upon  the  aforenamed  brabbles, 
sent  for  by  the  governour  to  this  place,  where  Hobbamock  (an 
Indian)  was  and  some  other  of  us,  the  ground  being  broke  in 
the  midst  of  the  house,  whereunder  certain  barrels  of  powder 
were  buried,  though  unknown  to  him,  Hobbamock  asked  him 
what  it  meant.  To  whom  he  readily  answered  :  That  was  the 
place,  wherein  the  plague  was  buried,  whereof  he  formerly  told 
him  and  others.  After  this  Hobbamock  asked  one  of  our 
people,  whether  such  a  thing  were,  and  whether  we  had  such  a 
command  of  it.  Who  answered  No  ;  but  the  God  of  the  English 
had  it  in  store,  and  could  send  it,  at  his  pleasure,  to  this  destruc- 
tion of  His  and  our  enemies.  This  was,  as  I  take  it,  about  the 
end  of  May  1622.' 

Ethically,  at  least,  some  of  the  English  and 
some  of  the  Indians  were  not  far  removed  from 
one  another. 

There  has  been  much  discussion  of  the  question 
whether  syphilis  is  of  pre-Columbian  origin  in 
America,  or  has  been  introduced  from  Europe 
since  the  discovery.  Dr.  A.  S.  Ashmead  {Amer. 
Journ.  Dermat.,  1908,  ,pp.  226-233)  is  convinced  of 
its  pre-Columbian  origin,  and  Dr.  F.  Grana  identi- 
fies it  with  the  Peruvian  huanti ;  Dr.  Iwan  Bloch 
(Intern.  Amerik.-Kongr.  xiv.  [1904]  57-79),  from 
historical   and   usteological   evidence — he   has  re- 


cently also  published  a  volume  on  the  subject — 
is  another  believer  in  the  pre-Columbian  theory, 
which  is  also  shared  by  E.  G.  Bourne,  the  American 
historian,  who  considers  the  legend  of  the  culture- 
hero  Guahagiona  and  his  sores  '  conclusive  evidence 
that  syphilis  had  existed  in  the  West  Indies  long 
before  the  coming  of  the  Spaniards '  (Proc.  Amer. 
Antiq.  Soc,  N.S.,  xvii.  [1906]).  Drs.  Tello  and 
Palma  of  Peru,  who  have  studied  the  question, 
seem  also  to  share  the  opinion  that  syphilis  is 
pre-Hispanic  in  Peru,  citing  in  evidence  certain 
representations  of  the  effects  of  the  disease  in  an- 
thropomorphic pottery,  etc. ;  so  also  K.  D.  Wagner 
and  Dr.  Capitan,  the  French  anthropologist 
(Journ.  Soc.  des  Amir,  de  Paris,  N.S.,  vi.  [1909]). 
Dr.  Lehmann  (Globus,  xcviii.  [1910]  12-13)  is  of 
opinion  that  the  evidence  in  Tello  and  Palma 
does  not  settle  the  matter  satisfactorily,  and  Dr. 
Hrdlicka  is  by  no  means  convinced  of  the  preva- 
lence of  syphilis  in  pre-Columbian  America.  The 
exact  character  of  the  Peruvian  uta,  the  Colum- 
bian and  Paraguayan  buba,  and  some  other  dis- 
eases, all  of  which  may  possibly  on  some  occasions 
be  mistaken  for  syphilis,  is  not  yet  clearly  decided. 
The  idea  of  syphilis-infection  of  man  from  the 
llama — a  belief  occurring  in  certain  regions  of 
South  America — is  not  sustained  (in  man  and  in 
the  llama  the  disease  is  comparatively  rare  now  in 
Peru).  Leprosy,  according  to  Dr.  Ashmead,  was 
introduced  into  America  from  Spain.  There  are 
other  interesting  S.  American  diseases  that  call 
for  further  investigation,  such,  e.g.,  as  the  Ecua- 
dorian huicho,  which  seems  to  have  some  analogies 
with  the  African  '  sleeping  sickness.' 

Among  a  number  of  American  Indian  peoples 
(e.g.  the  Oregonian  Klamath)  there  are  general 
dances  and  like  ceremonies  carried  out  for  the 
purpose  of  avoiding  or  driving  away  epidemics  and 
outbreaks  of  disease.  Some  of  the  Indians  of  the 
south-western  United  States  tried  to  '  capture '  the 
spirit  of  smallpox  during  an  epidemic  of  that  dis- 
ease, and  similar  procedures  are  reported  from 
elsewhere. 

3.  Conceptions  of  the  nature,  source,  etc.,  of 
disease. — Under  this  head  could  be  cited  illustra- 
tions of  all  manner  of  ideas,  from  the  most  natural 
and  simple  to  the  most  far-fetched  and  compli- 
cated, or  even  metaphysical.  On  this  point  Dr. 
Hrdlicka  remarks  (Bull.  30  BE,  pt.  i.  [1907]  p. 
837) : 

'  The  causation  and  the  nature  of  disease  being  to  the  Indian 
in  large  part  mysteries,  he  assigned  them  to  supernatural 
agencies.  In  general,  every  illness  that  could  not  plainry  be 
connected  with  a  visible  influence  was  regarded  as  the  effect 
of  an  introduction  into  the  body,  by  malevolent  or  offended 
supernatural  beings  or  through  sorcery  practised  by  an 
enemy,  of  noxious  objects  capable  of  producing  and  continu- 
ing pain  or  other  symptoms,  or  of  absorbing  the  patient's 
vitality.  These  beliefs,  and  the  more  rational  ones  concerning 
many  minor  indispositions  and  injuries,  led  to  the  development 
of  separate  forms  of  treatment,  and  varieties  of  healers.' 

Among  the  American  aborigines  one  finds  ex- 
amples of  the  attribution  of  disease  and  illness  in 
man  to  his  own  misdeeds  and  sinfulness,  to  his 
neglect  of  his  ancestors,  to  violations  of  innumer- 
able kinds  of  tabus  and  prohibitions,  to  the 
malevolence  or  ill-will  of  the  dead,  to  the  touch 
of  ghosts,  to  the  actions  of  the  wind  and  the 
moon,  to  the  machination  of  enemies  through 
magic  and  witchcraft,  etc.,  to  the  desire  for  re- 
venge of  the  animal  world  ill-treated  by  man,  to 
temporary  loss  of  the  soul,  to  the  introduction  of 
foreign  objects  into  the  body,  to  the  shadows  of 
certain  other  people  (e.g.  mourning  widows  and 
widowers),  to  women  (particularly  when  menstru- 
ating), etc.  For  certain  special  diseases  and 
pathological  conditions  very  curious  reasons  are 
sometimes  given.  Some  of  the  names  of  diseases 
and  terms  relating  to  or  describing  their  symptoms 
are  interesting  psychologically.     In  TsimsMan  the 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (American) 


733 


term  for  '  having  epileptic  fits '  really  signifies 
'like  a  bear';  and  the  word  for  'crazy'  means 
'like  a  land-otter.'  The  Chinook  term  for  'rheu- 
matism' means  lit.  'tired  all  over' — quite  an 
expressive  name.  In  Kutenai  the  general  term 
for  '  sick '  is  sanitlqoine,  lit.  '  bad-bodied  he  is ' ; 
the  corresponding  word  for  'well'  being  sukitlqoine, 
'good-bodied  he  is.'  The  term  'sick'  is  applied 
in  a  number  of  Indian  languages  to  denote  emo- 
tions and  the  like.  Thus  in  the  speech  of  the 
Mosquito  Indians  the  term  for  '  angry '  signifies 
lit.  '  liver-sick  '  ;  in  Haida,  '  downcast  is  '  heart- 
sick,' etc.  By  the  Mosquito  Indians  the  liver  is 
regarded  as  the  seat  of  emotional  life  ;  among 
the  Kutenai  and  many  other  Indian  tribes  it  is  the 
heart.  With  some  of  them,  unless  the  heart  can 
be  touched  or  struck,  the  efforts  of  the  shaman  to 
injure  or  kill  a  man  turn  out  useless.  Certain 
tribes  believe  that  diseases  are  '  shot '  into  the 
body  (e.g.  'pains'  with  some  Calif ornian  tribes). 

4.  Ceremonials,  magic  and  religious,  in  rela- 
tion to  disease  and  its  cure. — The  employment 
of  magic  rites  and  formula?,  of  religious  or  semi- 
religious  ceremonials,  ritual  and  other  perform- 
ances, for  the  purpose  of  preventing  or  curing 
diseases  of  various  sorts  is  common  in  all  regions 
of  the  globe,  especially  among  uncivilized  peoples, 
and  the  aborigines  of  America  are  no  exception  to 
the  rule.  These  rites  and  ceremonies  vary,  from 
the  simple  procedures  of  the  '  medicine-men '  and 
'medicine-women,'  shamans,  or  sorcerers,  who  by 
rude  incantations  and  noise-making  with  rattles, 
drums,  etc.,  sought  to  drive  away  disease,  or  by 
laying  on  of  hands,  sucking,  tricks  of  legerdemain, 
and  the  like,  pretended  to  extract  noxious  objects 
from  the  body  of  the  patient,  to  the  more  elaborate 
and  highly  developed  ritual  activities  of  '  medicine- 
societies  '  carried  out  sometimes  for  the  benefit  of 
an  individual,  or  a  whole  family,  and  again  on 
behalf  of  the  entire  community.  The  whole  wide 
range  is  occasionally  to  be  found  within  the  limits 
of  a  single  linguistic  stock.  Thus  we  have  the 
crude  rites  of  the  lowest  Athapascan  tribes  of 
Alaska  and  north-western  Canada,  on  the  one 
hand,  and,  on  the  other,  the  complicated  system  of 
the  '  night  chant '  of  the  Navaho,  who  are  of  the 
same  lineage ;  in  like  manner,  also,  the  simple 
procedures  of  the  shamans  of  the  barbarous  Utes 
and  Shoshones,  the  lowest  representatives  of  the 
Uto-Aztecan  stock,  contrasting  with  the  rites  and 
ceremonies  of  the  Aztecs  of  ancient  Mexico  and 
their  semi-civilized  kindred,  who  mark  the  highest 
limit  attained  by  this  people.  And  S.  America, 
while  not  exhibiting,  perhaps,  such  extremes  of 
diversity  within  one  and  the  same  stock,  shows 
equal  variety,  if  one  compares  the  barbarous  and 
completely  uncivilized  tribes  of  the  Brazilian, 
Peruvian,  and  Venezuelan  forests  with  the  ancient 
Peruvians.  Healing  ceremonies  of  great  interest 
occur  among  many  American  Indian  peoples ;  the 
best  known  and  those  described  in  greatest  detail 
belong  to  some  of  the  Plains  tribes  and  peoples  of 
the  Algonquian  stock..  As  Dr.  Hrdli&ka  remarks 
(Bull.  SO  BE,  pt.  i.  p.  838)  : 

'  Among  most  of  the  populous  tribes  the  medicine-men  of  this 
class  (the  priest-healer  type)  were  associated  in  guilds  or 
societies,  and  on  special  occasions  performed  great  healing  or 
"  life-  (vitality-)  giving  "  ceremonies,  which  abounded  in  songs, 
prayers,  ritual,  and  drama,  and  extended  over  a  period  of  a 
few  hours  to  nine  days.' 
There  also  existed  among  some  tribes 
1  large  medicine-societies,  composed  principally  of  patients 
cured  of  serious  ailments.  This  was  particularly  the  case 
among  the  Pueblos.  At  Zuni  there  still  exist  several  such 
societies,  whose  members  include  the  greater  part  of  the 
tribe  and  whose  organization  and  functions  are  complex. 
The  ordinary  members  are  not  actual  healers,  but  are  believed 
to  be  more  competent  to  assist  in  the  particular  line  of  dis- 
eases which  are  the  specialty  of  their  society,  and  therefore 
may  be  called  by  the  actual  medicine-men  for  assistance. 
They  participate  also  in  the  ceremonies  of  their  own  society' 
(p.  838  f.). 


The  curative  ceremonies  of  such  people  as  the 
Navaho,  when  employed  for  the  benefit  of  indi- 
viduals, are  both  prolonged  and  costly,  being 
exceedingly  elaborate  both  in  ritual  and  in  para- 
phernalia. According  to  Dr.  G.  A.  Dorsey  (ib. 
p.  229)  : 

'  Among  the  non-Pueblo  tribes  of  the  S.W.,  especially  among 
the  Navaho  and  Apache,  the  extended  ceremonies  are  almost 
entirely  the  property  of  the  medicine-men,  and  must  be  re- 
garded as  medicine-dances.  Many  of  these  are  of  an  elaborate 
and  complicated  nature,  but  all  are  designed  for  the  restoration 
of  the  sick.  In  these  ceremonies  masks  are  often  worn,  and 
complicated  and  elaborate  dry-pictures  are  made,  both  these 
features  probably  having  been  borrowed  from  the  Pueblo  tribes. 

Some  of  these  great  '  medicine  '  ceremonies  have 
gathered  about  them  practically  all  the  ritual  lore 
and  legend  of  the  tribe,  and  serve  as  a  general 
outlet  for  the  observance  and  dramatic  sense  of 
all  the  people.  The  great  Mide'iviwin,  or  '  grand 
medicine  society,'  of  the  Algonquian  Ojibwa  and 
related  tribes  is  described  in  detail  by  Hoffman 
(7  EBEW  [1S91]  143-300)  ;  the  medicine-men  of 
the  Athapascan  Apache  by  J.  G.  Bourke  (9  EBEW 
[1892]  443-603) ;  the  esoteric  fraternities  of  the  Zufii 
by  Mrs.  Stevenson  (23  RBE  IF  [1904]) ;  the  Cherokee 
medicine-men  and  their  sacred  formulae  by  Mooney 
(7  EBEW  301-397) ;  the  secret  societies  of  the 
Kwakiutl  by  Boas  (Eep.  U.S.  Nat.Mus.,  1895);  the 
organizations  of  the  Algonquian  Cheyenne  by  Dor- 
sey (Anthr.  Publ.  Field  Columb.  Mus.  ix.  [1905]);  the 
'mountain  chant'  of  the  Navaho  (5  EBEW  379-467), 
and  the  great  '  night  chant '  of  the  same  people,  by 
Matthews  (Mem.  Amer.  Mus.  Nat.  Hist.,  N.Y., 
vol.  vi.  [1902]).  For  other  N.  Amer.  Indian  tribes 
much  valuable  information  will  be  found  in  the 
various  monographs  of  Boas  (Eskimo  and  peoples 
of  North  Pacific  coast),  Dixon  and  Kroeber  (Cali- 
fornian  tribes),  Kroeber,  Wissler,  Lowie  (tribes  of 
the  Great  Plains),  etc.  For  general  information 
concerning  the  American  Indian  shaman,  the 
article  of  Dr.  R.  B.  Dixon  (JAFL  xxi.  [1908]  1-12) 
is  of  importance.  From  some  points  of  view,  the 
ceremonials  of  the  Navaho  are  the  most  remark- 
able of  American  healing-rituals.  For  S.  America, 
we  have  not  much  accurate  and  detailed  material 
of  a  reliable  character  concerning  the  rites  and 
ceremonies  of  the  secret  societies  having  to  do 
with  'medicine.'  The  best  is  to  be  found  in  the 
recent  works  of  Koch,  Nordenskibld,  Ehrenreich, 
Hawtrey,  Guevara,  Latcham,  etc.  Some  data  are 
also  contained  in  the  writings  of  certain  of  the 
early  missionaries,  explorers,  and  historians,  such 
as  Charlevoix  and  others.  Concerning  the  great 
'  night  chant '  of  the  Navaho,  a  ceremony  lasting 
nine  days,  Dr.  Matthews  says  (Amer.  Anthrop.  ix. 
[1896]  50) : 

'  The  principal  purpose  of  this  great  ceremony  is  to  heal  the 
ailing  man  or  woman,  who  defrays  all  the  expenses  of  the  cere- 
mony; but  the  occasion  is  used,  also,  to  implore  the  gods  for 
various  temporal  blessings,  not  only  for  the  sick  man,  but  for  all 
who  participate  in  the  work,  with  their  friends  and  relations. 
This  ceremony,  like  nearly  all  ceremonies,  ancient  and  modern, 
is  connected  with  a  myth  or  legend  (several  myths,  indeed,  in 
this  case),  and  many  of  the  acts  in  the  ceremony  are  illustrative 
of  the  mythic  events.' 
He  also  observes  further  : 

'  In  them  we  find  a  nocturnal  vigil  analogous  to  that  of  the 
mediaeval  knight  over  his  armour  ;  we  find  a  vigil  in  which  men 
and  gods,  or  the  properties  that  represent  the  gods,  alike  take 
part ;  we  find  evidence  of  the  belief  in  a  community  of  feeling 
and  interest  between  gods  and  men,  and  we  have  an  instance  of 
a  primal  feast  in  common  or  love-feast  closely  resembling  certain 
ceremonial  acts  performed  among  ourselves  to-day.' 

5.  Games  and  gaming  implements  as  preventives 
and  as  remedies  for  disease. — That  games  among 
savage  and  barbarous  peoples  have  certain  pre- 
ventive and  curative  r61es  with  regard  to  disease  as 
well  as  other  afflictions  and  calamities  of  mankind 
is  not  at  all  surprising,  especially  if  one  takes  the 
view  of  their  magic  and  religious  origin  expressed 
by  Stewart  Culin  in  his  monograph  on  '  Games  of 
the  North  American  Indians'  (S4  EBEW [\W<-\). 
Among  the  Sacs  and  Foxes  (Culin,  p.  448  f.)  the 


734 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (American) 


game  of  ring  and  pole  was  played  about  the  house, 
because  '  people  believe  there  is  a  spirit  of  sickness, 
Apenaweni,  always  hovering  about  to  get  into  the 
lodges,  and  this  game  is  encouraged  in  order  to 
keep  it  away.'  The  employment  among  the 
Kwakiutl  Indians  of  Vancouver  Island  of  a  sort  of 

*  bean-shooter '  (Dr.  Newcombe  calls  it  ' the  figure  4 
dart-shooter ')  in  a  medical  ceremony  is  thus  de- 
scribed {Culin,  p.  761,  quoting  Newcombe) : 

'  Among  the  Kwakiutl  of  the  Nimpkish  tribe,  this  is  called 
Hendlem.  In  use  a  small  stick  is  placed  across  the  top  of  the 
pliant  side-pieces,  and  is  shot  to  some  little  distance  by  pressing; 
on  the  trigger-piece,  which  is  horizontal  to  the  figure  4.  The 
figure  is  held  in  front  of  the  body  with  both  hands,  with  the 
short  end  of  the  trigger  downwards,  and  the  perpendicular  stem 
of  the  4  horizontally.  It  is  frequently  used  when  children  are 
sick,  and  small  sticks  are  shot  in  different  directions  to  chase 
away  the  spirit  supposed  to  be  causing  the  sickness.  It  was 
used  as  lately  as  two  years  ago  at  Alert  Bay.  Sets  of  four  of 
this  instrument  are  employed  by  grown-up  people — relatives  of 
the  sick.  The  sticks  are  left  lying  about  after  the  performance, 
but  the  guns  are  burned  when  done  with.  This  goes  on  for  four 
nights  in  succession.  The  noise  of  the  two  flexible  sides  coming 
together  when  the  stick  is  ejected  is  supposed  to  aid  the  good 
work.  At  night  the  four  shooters  are  left  loaded  near  the  sick 
child,  to  scare  the  ghost  or  spirit.  They  are  also  used  as  a  game 
by  children." 

This  is  an  interesting  example  of  the  employment 
of  the  same  implement  or  instrument  in  a  children's 
game  and  in  a  '  medical '  procedure.  Rings  or 
hoops,  similar  to  those  used  in  the  hoop  and  pole 
game,  are  used  in  certain  '  medicine '  ceremonials 
by  the  shamans  of  the  Oglala  Dakota  Indians 
(Culin,  p.  435)  for  the  purpose  of  aiding  in  the  cure 
of  the  sick.  On  the  first  day  of  the  healing  rite  of 
the  Navaho,  known  as  Yebitchai,  similar  gaming 
rings  are  made.  These  rings  were  used  to  touch 
the  mouth  and  other  parts  of  the  patient's  body, 
and  were  afterwards  rolled  out  of  the  lodge. 
Of  the  12  rings  used  in  this  ceremonial,  as  de- 
scribed by  Col.  J.  Stevenson  (8  EBEW  [1891]  239), 

*  three  were  afterwards  taken  to  the  east,  three  to 
the  south,  three  to  the  west,  and  three  to  the 
north,  and  deposited  at  the  base  of  pinon  trees.' 
We  are  further  informed  :  *  The  rings  were  placed 
over  the  invalid's  mouth  to  give  him  strength, 
cause  him  to  talk  with  one  tongue,  and  to  have  a 
good  mind  and  heart.  The  other  portions  of  the 
body  were  touched  with  them  for  physical  benefit.' 
Culin  (p.  437)  reports  having  seen  '  actual  practical 
game  rings '  used  in  ceremonies.  Naturally,  where 
the  beginnings  of  the  priest  and  the  doctor  are 
found  together  in  the  primitive  shaman,  the  imple- 
ments and  objects  in  ceremonial  use  must  often  be 
the  same  or  very  similar.     And  the  lines  between 

*  games '  and  other  more  or  less  ceremonial  per- 
formances are  not  always  very  marked  ;  indeed, 
the  former  are  not  infrequently  made  a  part  of 
religious  or  quasi-religious  observances — and  this 
is  not  at  all  peculiar  to  the  aborigines  of  the  New 
World. 

6.  Medical  operations,  surgery,  etc. — Some  of 
the  performances  of  the  American  '  medicine-men  ' 
belong  rather  to  the  field  of  jugglery  and  legerde- 
main than  to  that  of  operative  therapeutics.  Others 
have,  doubtless,  more  of  a  religious  or  mystical 
than  of  a  medical  significance.  There  are,  how- 
ever, a  number  that  may  justifiably  be  classed  as 
relating  to  the  beginnings  of  medical  operations 
and  surgery  as  we  understand  them.  The  range 
of  these  among  even  quite  primitive  tribes  may  be 
seen  from  Father  Morice's  article  (see  Lit. )  on  the 
surgery  of  the  Denes,  an  Athapascan  people  of 
British  Columbia,  where  items  relating  to  bleeding, 
burning,  blistering,  treatment  of  broken  limbs, 
deformities,  uterine  troubles,  child-birth,  cataract, 
etc.,  are  briefly  considered,  some  new  and  inter- 
esting facts  being  reported.  Some  of  the  pro- 
cedures in  vogue  are  as  follows  : 

Blood- sucking  is  in  use  both  as  a  general  practice  and  as  a 
special  procedure  for  wounds,  cuts,  bites,  and  stings  of  animals 
and  insects,  particularly  those  of  a  poisonous  nature,  including 


wounds  due  to  arrows  and  other  weapons  that  have  been  tipped 
with  deadly  substances,  snake-bites,  abscesses,  etc. 

Blood-letting  by  means  of  flint-knives,  arrow-heads,  etc.,  was 
practised  by  the  ancient  Peruvians  and  Mexicans,  and  is  also 
reported  from  a  number  of  uncivilized  tribes,  such  as  the  Central 
Californian  Indians,  the  Kwikpagmiut  of  the  Yukon  (Alaska), 
certain  tribes  of  the  Isthmian  region  of  Central  America,  the 
Brazilian  Caraya,  etc.  The  place  of  venesection  differs  accord- 
ing to  the  trouble,  and  varies  with  divers  peoples.  Bartels 
(p.  269)  notes  that  for  headache  the  Caraya  incise  the  veins  of  the 
forehead;  the  ancient  Peruvians  cut  into  the  veins  of  the  root 
of  the  nose,  the  Indians  of  Honduras  the  veins  of  the  leg  or  the 
shoulder;  for  troubles  in  the  upper  part  of  the  body,  certain 
Californian  tribes  practised  venesection  on  the  right  arm,  and 
on  the  left  arm  when  the  limbs  were  affected.  Certain  Indians 
of  the  Isthmian  region  are  said  to  have  practised  venesection  by 
snooting  small  arrows  from  a  special  bow  into  various  parts  of 
the  patient's  body  until  a  vein  was  opened. 

Scarification  and  kindred  procedures  are  wide-spread  over 
primitive  America,  ancient  and  modern,  the  implements  used 
being  knives,  sharp  pieces  of  stone,  bits  of  shell,  pieces  of  flint 
or  obsidian,  thorns,  fish-spines,  teeth  of  animals  ;  some  tribes 
have  developed  special  implements  for  the  purpose,  as,  e.g.,  the 
Caraya  of  Brazil. 

Cauterization  with  cedar-bark  is  practised  by  several  tribes  of 
the  North  Pacific  coast  (e.g.  Bilqula,  Twana)  for  rheumatism 
and  other  diseases  of  alike  order;  by  some  Southern-Californian 
tribes  with  a  hot  coal  for  syphilis  ;  by  some  Central  American 
peoples  with  hot  ashes  and  heated  leaves  for  wounds,  etc.  ;  by 
the  Choctaws  and  certain  Nicaraguan  tribes.  Many  North 
American  Indian  peoples  practise  cauterization  for  obstinate 
Bores,  etc. 

Bone-setting  is  accomplished  quite  cleverly  by  a  number  of 
tribes  all  over  the  continent,  particularly  the  Siouan  Winne- 
bagos,  the  Creeks  of  the  south-eastern  United  States,  some  of 
the  peoples  of  the  North  Pacific  coast,  and  certain  of  the 
Brazilian  tribes  ;  splints  and  bandaging  are  employed  especially 
by  the  Bilqula,  Creeks,  Winnebagos,  and  others. 

Amputation  does  not  seem  to  have  been  generally,  practised 
among  the  American  Indians,  even  such  peoples  as  the  Creeks 
and  Winnebagos,  who  were  6kilful  in  bone-setting,  seldom  or 
never  resorting  to  it. 

Trephining  was  in  use  in  ancient  Peru,  as  indicated  by  the 
crania  from  various  pre-Columbian  burial-places,  and  a  special 
study  of  these  has  been  made  bv  Muniz  and  McGee  (16  RBEW 
[1897]  3-72).  Dr.  Hrdlicka  (Bull.  30  BE,  pt.  I  p.  838)  says  :  'The 
highest  surgical  achievement,  undoubtedly  practised  in  part  at 
least  as  a  curative  method,  was  trephining.  This  operation  was 
of  common  occurrence,  and  is  still  practised  in  Peru,  where  it 
reached  its  highest  development  among  American  tribes.  Tre- 
phining was  also  known  in  quite  recent  times  among  the 
Tarahumare  of  Chihuahua,  but  has  never  been  found  north  of 
Mexico.' 

For  the  purpose  of  stopping  bleeding  of  a  dangerous  sort,  many 
American  tribes  used  down  of  various  birds  (Haida),  mineral  and 
plant  substances  (Dakotas,  Winnebagos),  hot  ashes  (for  nose- 
bleeding)  ;  and  the  Brazilian  Caraya  (Bartels,  p.  286^)  are  credited 
with  the  use  of  bindings  for  the  limbs.  With  the  whites  the  use  of 
gunpowder  for  stopping  blood  has  come  into  practice  with  many 
tribes  all  over  the  continent.  According  to  Hrdlicka  (loc.  cit., 
p.  837),  '  antiseptics  are  unknown,  but  some  of  the  cleansing 
agents  or  healing  powders  employed  probably  serve  as  such, 
though  undesignedly  on  the  part  of  the  Indians.' 

7.  Materia  medica,  etc. — In  both  the  procedures 
of  individual  shamans  and  the  more  elaborate  and 
extensive  ceremonies,  such  as  those  carried  out 
by  the  Navaho,  etc.,  a  large  number  of  'fetishes/ 
charms,  amulets,  and  the  like  are  employed,  and 
the  principles  of  similia  similibus  and  sympathetic 
magic  are  appealed  to  in  innumerable  ways,  some- 
times with  exceeding  skill  and  cunningness.  Dr. 
Hrdlicka  (I.e.,  p.  836)  says  : 

'The  fetishes  used  are  peculiarly  shaped  stones  or  wooden 
objects,  lightning-riven  wood,  feathers,  claws,  hair,  figurines  of 
mythic  animals,  representations  of  the  sun,  of  lightning,  etc., 
and  are  supposed  to  embody  a  mysterious  power  capable  of  pre- 
venting disease  or  of  counteracting  its  effects.' 
Of  real  materia  medica,  animal  and  mineral  sub- 
stances are  comparatively  rarely  employed.  Dr. 
Hrdli6ka(p.  837)  says: 

'  Animal  and  mineral  substances  are  also  occasionally  used  as 
remedies.  Among  South-western  tribes  the  bite  of  a  snake  is 
often  treated  by  applying  to, the  wound  a  portion  of  the  ventral 
surface  of  the  body  of  the  same  snake.  The  Papago  use  crickets 
as  medicine ;  the  Tarahumare,  lizards ;  the  Apache,  spiders' 
eggs.  Among  the  Navaho  and  others  red  ochre  combined  with 
fab  is  used  externally  to  prevent  sunburn.  The  red,  barren  clay 
from  beneath  a  camp-fire  is  used  by  White  Mountain  Apache 
women  to  induce  sterility ;  the  Hopi  blow  charcoal,  ashes,  or 
other  products  of  fire,  on  an  inflamed  surface  to  counteract  the 
supposed  fire  which  causes  the  ailment.' 

The  oil,  grease,  etc.,  of  certain  animals  are  used 
for  external  and  internal  application,  often  as 
antidotes — thus,  among  certain  tribes  of  Central 
Mexico,    scorpion-oil    for    scorpion -bites ;    among 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (American) 


735 


the  Caribs,  snake-oil  for  snake-bites.  Among 
the  Yamamadi  and  neighbouring  tribes  of  Brazil 
(Bartels,  p.  120)  we  meet  with  the  curious  cus- 
tom of  plastering  the  affected  portion  of  the 
patient's  body  all  over  with  feathers.  Some  of 
the  Southern-Californian  Indians  used  pills  of 
wild  dove's  dung  as  a  remedy  for  gonorrhoea. 
Pounded  charred  bones  are  in  use  by  the  Kutenai 
for  sore  eyes.  The  great  mass  of  primitive 
remedies,  however,  come  from  the  plant- world  — 
roots  (most  commonly),  twigs,  leaves,  bark,  flowers 
and  seeds  (rarely) — and  are  most  frequently  em- 
ployed in  the  form  of  a  decoction,  made  from  either 
the  fresh  or  the  dry  plant  (sometimes  from  its 
powder).  The  '  doctrine  of  signatures  '  and  similar 
ideas  controlled  a  good  deal  of  the  botanical  medi- 
cine of  the  aborigines  of  America,  which  reached 
its  height  with  such  peoples  as  the  ancient 
Mexicans,  as  may  be  seen  from  Father  Gerste's 
monograph  on  the  subject,  where  the  data  in  the 
old  historians,  are  carefully  brought  together. 
In  the  warmer  and  tropical  regions  of  America 
numerous  vegetable  gums  and  balsams,  the  use 
of  many  of  which  has  passed  over  now  to  the  white 
population  as  well,  were  employed  for  medical 
purposes,  for  stopping  bleeding,  curing  and  cleans- 
ing wounds,  etc.  The  number  of  plant-remedies 
in  use  even  among  the  uncivilized  tribes  is  often 
quite  large.  Among  the  Californian  Karok,  13 
species  of  medicinal  plants  were  reported  ;  among 
the  Twana  and  neighbouring  tribes  of  the  State  of 
Washington,  18 ;  among  the  Ojibwa  (according 
to  Hoffman),  56  ;  the  list  of  Schoolcraft,  represent- 
ing several  N.  American  tribes,  contains  89  ;  of 
the  plants  known  to  the  Moqui  or  Hopi,  according 
to  Hough  {Amer.  Anthrop.,  1898),  45  are  employed 
for  medical  purposes — there  being  probably  not 
over  160  indigenous  species  in  the  environment. 
As  Bartels  (p.  209)  notes,  the  Indians  possess  quite 
a  large  number  of  plant-remedies  for  diseases  and 
troubles  of  the  eyes.  Abundant  emetics  and  astrin- 
gents are  also  provided.  Plant-remedies  are  in  vogue 
for  the  treatment  of  cuts,  burns,  bruises,  wounds, 
bites,  stings,  and  stomach-ache  and  kindred  ills,  dis- 
eases of  the  respiratory  tract,  and  nasal  troubles, 
in  the  form  of  poultices  and  plasters  (often  of 
hot  leaves),  decoctions,  lotions,  and  inhalations. 
With  the  Cherokee  Indians  the  plants  furnished 
all  the  remedies  as  against  the  animal  world,  which 
inflicted  diseases  upon  mankind.  The  formula?  of 
the  medicine-men  of  this  interesting  Iroquoian 
people  have  been  recorded  by  Mooney,  and  they 
form  a  body  of  data  of  great  importance  for  the 
study  of  primitive  medicine  in  its  incantational 
and  invocational  aspects.  With  the  sowing  and 
gathering  of  medical  plants  there  are  sometimes 
connected  certain  rites  and  ceremonies,  as,  e.g.,  is 
the  case  with  the  '  medicine  tobacco  '  of  the  Crow 
Indians  of  the  Siouan  stock.  Interesting  also  is 
the  sacred  tule  pollen  in  use  among  the  Apache, 
known  as  hodentin,  and  '  given  or  applied  because 
of  its  supposed  supernatural  beneficial  effect.' 
Many  plants  '  are  employed  as  remedies  simply  for 
traditional  reasons,  without  any  formulated  opinion 
as  to  their  modes  of  action  '  (Hrdlifika,  p.  837). 

8.  Drugs,  narcotics,  etc. — In  connexion  with 
puberty-rites,  'man-making'  ceremonies,  and  per- 
formances of  a  kindred  nature,  certain  narcotic  and 
stupefying  substances  were  employed  among  tribes 
representing  all  stages  of  culture  all  over  the  con- 
tinent. In  the  huskanaw-cexemonies  carried  out 
on  boys  at  the  age  of  puberty  among  the  Virginian 
Indians,  the  subjects  were  stupefied  by  a  decoction 
of  Datura  ('  jimson  weed').  A  variety  of  Datura 
was  used  by  the  shamans  of  the  Californian  Yokuts 
to  induce  religious  frenzy.  This  was  done  also,  in 
all  probability,  by  those  of  the  Indian  tribes  of  the 
south-western  United  States  (Navaho,  Hopi,  etc.) 


who  are  acquainted  witli  the  properties  of  the 
Datura.  Various  tribes  of  the  Gulf  States  em- 
ployed in  their  ceremonial  purifications  the  '  medi- 
cine '  known  as  the  '  black  drink,'  a  decoction  made 
from  the  leaves  of  the  Ilex  cassine.  This  'medicine' 
figures  in  the  great  Busk,  or  annual  green-corn 
thanksgiving  ceremony  of  the  Creeks.  According 
to Hall(.Re;a.  U.S.  Nat.  Mus.,  1885),  the  Creeks  were 
in  the  habit  of  preparing  and  drinking  it  before 
council-meetings,  because  they  believed  that  'it 
invigorated  the  mind  and  body  and  prepared  for 
thought  and  debate.'  In  various  regions  of  North, 
Central,  and  South  America  several  kinds  of  to- 
bacco furnished  medicine  for  divers  diseases.  Pipe- 
smoking  for  asthmatic  troubles  is  reported  from  the 
Dakotas,  Winnebagos,  Creeks,  and  other  tribes  ;  in 
several  parts  of  Mexico,  tobacco  was  used  for  similar 
purposes,  and  likewise  against  rheumatism.  Among 
the  Ipurina  Indians  of  Brazil,  incurable  sick  people 
are  completely  narcotized  by  tobacco  and  thrown 
into  the  river.  In  South  America,  tobacco  was 
chiefly  used  in  the  form  of  snuff,  and,  according  to 
McGuire  {Bull.  SO  BE,  pt.  ii.  [1910]  p.  768),  '  there 
is  some  evidence  that  the  plant  was  chewed  in 
Central  America.'     McGuire  (p.  768)  says: 

1  Tobacco  was  cultivated  in  most  tribes  by  the  men  alone,  and 
was  usually  smoked  by  them  only ;  among  the  Iroquois  and  some 
of  the  Pueblos  trade  tobacco  was  not  smoked  in  solemn  cere- 
monies. At  times  both  priests  and  laymen  smoked  plants  or 
compounds  that  were  strongly  narcotic,  those  using;  them  be- 
coming ecstatic  and  seeing  visions.  To  the  Indian  the  tobacco- 
plant  had  a  sacred  character  ;  it  was  almost  invariably  used  on 
solemn  occasions,  accompanied  by  suitable  invocations  to  their 
deities.  It  was  ceremonially  used  to  aid  in  disease  or  distress, 
to  ward  off  danger,  to  bring  good  fortune,  to  generally  assist 
one  in  need,  and  to  allay  fear.' 

The  general  use  of  tobacco  all  over  America 
was  much  furthered  when  many  of  the  European 
colonists  devoted  themselves  to  the  planting  and 
sale  of  this  plant.  Its  fame  as  a  medicine  was 
really  the  first  basis  of  its  popularity  when 
introduced  into  the  Old  World.  Among  some 
Indian  tribes  the  planting,  cultivating,  and  harvest- 
ing of  tobacco  had  many  religious  or  semi-religious 
rites  and  ceremonies  attached  to  them.  According 
to  Simms  (Amer.  Anthrop.,  N.S.,  vi.  [1904]),  as 
cited  by  McGuire  (p.  768), 

'  the  planting  of  medicine  tobacco  is  one  of  the  oldest  cere- 
monies of  the  Crows,  consisting,  among  other  observances,  of  a 
solemn  march,  a  foot  race  among  the  young  men,  the  planting 
of  seed,  the  building  of  a  hedge  of  green  branches  around  the 
seed-bed,  a  visit  to  the  sweat-house,  followed  by  a  bath  and  a 
solemn  smoke,  all  ending  with  a  feast ;  when  ripe,  the  plant 
was  stored  away,  and  seeds  were  put  in  a  deerskin  pouch  and 
kept  for  another  planting.' 

In  S.  America  a  number  of  plant-juices  were 
employed  for  the  purpose  of  making  more  or  less 
intoxicating  or  stupefying  drinks,  used  on  cere- 
monial occasions,  etc.  ;  and  '  getting  drunk '  was 
not  infrequently  a  common  and  regular  occurrence, 
on  festival  occasions,  with  certain  Brazilian  and 
Paraguayan  tribes.  In  N.  America,  according  to 
Dr.  Hrdlifika  (p.  837),  'among  the  tribes  who 
prepare  tiswin,  or  tesvino,  particularly  the  Apache, 
parts  of  a  number  of  bitter,  aromatic,  and  even 
poisonous  plants,  especially  a  species  of  Datura, 
are  added  to  the  liquid  to  make  it  "  stronger " ; 
these  are  termed  medicines.'  Certain  Californian 
tribes  made  drinks  from  manzanita  berries,  and 
the  Pima  and  other  tribes  of  the  Arizonian  region 
manufactured  an  intoxicating  liquor  from  the 
fruit  of  the  cactus.  Among  many  tribes  of  ancient 
and  modern  Mexico,  a  decoction  of  peyotl  (Anha- 
lonium  lewinii),  a  small  variety  of  cactus,  had, 
and  still  has,  a  very  extensive  use ;  so  also  in  the 
region  of  the  United  States  north  of  Mexico. 
According  to  Mooney  (Bull.  SO  BE,  pt.  ii.  p.  237), 
it  was  '  formerly  and  [is]  still  much  used  for  cere- 
monial and  medicinal  purposes  by  all  the  tribes 
between  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  from  Arkansas  river  southward,  almost  to 


736 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (American) 


the  city  of  Mexico.'  The  Nalmatl  peyotl  corre- 
sponds to  the  Kiowa  seni,  Comanche  ivokowi, 
Tarahumare  hikuli,  etc.  Under  the  incorrect  title 
of  mescal  it  is  well  known  to  the  whites,  and  has 
been  even  used  for  psychological  and  medical 
experimentation. 

The  '  eating  of  mescal  buttons '  takes  place  during  ceremonies 
of  considerable  length  among  the  Kiowa  (where  the}'  have  been 
studied  by  Mooney),  Comanche,  and  other  tribes.  With  these 
peoples,  '  it  is  rather  a  ceremony  of  prayer  and  quiet  con- 
templation. It  is  usually  performed  as  an  invocation  for  the 
recovery  of  some  sick  person ;  it  is  held  in  a  tipi  specially 
erected  for  the  purpose,  and  begins  usually  at  night,  continuing 
until  the  sun  is  well  up  in  the  morning.'  Women,  as  a  rule,  do 
not  take  part  in  the  ceremony  proper,  but  '  occupy  themselves 
with  the  preparation  of  the  sacred  food  and  of  the  feast  in 
which  all  join  at  the  close  of  the  performance.'  'At  some  point 
during  the  ceremony  the  sick  person  is  usually  brought  in  to 
be  prayed  for,  and  is  allowed  to  eat  one  or  more  specially 
consecrated  peyotls.'  Mooney  says  further  :  '  The  number  of 
"buttons"  eaten  by  one  individual  during  the  night  varies 
from  10  to  40,  and  even  more,  the  drug  producing  a  sort  of 
spiritual  exaltation  differing  entirely  from  that  produced  by  any 
other  known  drug,  and  apparently  without  any  reaction.  The 
effect  is  heightened  by  the  weird  lullabj'  of  the  songs,  the  con- 
stant sound  of  the  drum  and  rattle,  and  the  fitful  glare  of  the  fire.' 
The  Tarahumare  and  some  other  Mexican  tribes  have  a  peyotl 
dance.  The  effects  of  'mescal  buttons'  have  been  studied 
experimentally  by  Havelock  Ellis  (Pop.  Sci.  Mo.  lxi.  [1902]  57- 
71),  and,  as  Mooney  notes  (p.  237),  'tests  thus  far  made 
indicate  that  it  possesses  varied  and  valuable  medical  properties, 
tending  to  confirm  the  idea  of  the  Indians  who  regard  it  almost 
as  a  panacea.'  Father  Gerste  (pp.  68-69)  records  its  use,  not 
only  as  a  sort  of  panacea  for  fatigue,  etc.,  but  also  as  a  means 
of  obtaining  hallucinations,  which  were  then  taken  for  messages 
from  the  gods,  and  prophecies  of  the  future.  The  Chichimecs, 
according  to  Sahagun,  consumed  large  quantities  of  peyotl,  and 
they  believed  that  '  it  gave  them  courage,  took  away  all  fear 
during  battle,  rendered  them  insensible  to  hunger,  thirst,  etc., 
and  preserved  them  from  all  dangers.' 

The  'mescal  button'  or  'mescal'  here  described  is  not  to  be 
confounded  with  the  mescal  (food  and  intoxicating  drink,  the 
latter  post-Columbian)  produced  in  this  region  from  the  agave. 

9.  Inventions  for  use  in  'medicine.' — Besides 
the  vast  number  of  amulets,  charms,  and  talismans, 
of  which  some  account  is  given  in  art.  Chaems 
and  Amulets  (Amer.),  a  few  'inventions'  of  a 
medical  or  quasi-medical  order,  in  use  among 
American  Indian  peoples,  deserve  mention  here. 
Such  are,  e.g.,  a  sort  of  respirator  of  fine  woven 
grass  used  by  the  Kwikpagmiut  Eskimo  of  Alaska 
(Bartels,  p.  222)  to  prevent  the  smoke  from  getting 
into  the  lungs  of  the  people  in  the  '  sweat-house ' ; 
the  scarification-implements  of  fish-teeth  made 
by  the  Carayas  of  Brazil  (p.  267),  which  are  of 
peculiar  interest ;  the  bone  and  horn  tubes  used  by 
several  North  American  tribes  (Navaho,  Ojibwa, 
Creek,  Siouan  peoples)  for  scarification,  blood- 
sucking, and  similar  procedures.  Note  may  be 
taken  here  also  of  the  litters  for  the  sick  and 
wounded  among  a  number  of  tribes  (e.g.  Dakotas) ; 
and  the  snow-spectacles  of  the  Eskimo. 

io.  Hygiene,  sanitation,  etc. — The  idea  that 
'  cleanliness  is  next  to  godliness '  was  wide-spread 
among  many  American  Indian  peoples,  as  their 
frequent  bathing,  and  other  cleansing  procedures, 
the  very  common  use  of  the  '  sweat-house'  (accom- 
panied often  by  elaborate  ceremonials),  the  washing 
of  the  sexual  parts,  and  the  attention  to  the  body 
during  menstruation,  after  coitus,  etc. ,  abundantly 
indicate.  Some  of  the  tribes  lowest  in  intelligence, 
apparently,  are  very  careful  to  bathe  frequently 
and  thoroughly — the  process  beginning  with  the 
new-born  infant,  which,  even  in  the  cold  north,  is 
immediately  plunged  into  the  water ;  the  mother 
also  cleansing  herself  as  soon  as  possible.  This 
treatment  of  child  and  mother  is  discussed  at  some 
length  in  the  works  of  Ploss  and  others  who  have 
written  in  particular  of  menstruation  and  of  child- 
birth among  primitive  peoples.  Fasting,  bathing, 
and  sprinkling  ceremonials  are  found  accompany- 
ing the  great  religious  performances  as  well  as  the 
smaller,  and  they  are  also  to  be  met  with  in 
connexion  with  preparation  for  and  participation 
in  games,  which  have  often  a  more  or  less  religious 
character.     Of  the  Tsimshian  Indians  of  British 


Columbia,  who  are  sun-worshippers,  Boas  says 
(5th  Rep.  on  N.  W.  Tribes  of  Canada,  1889,  p.  50) : 
'  Men  make  themselves  agreeable  to  the  deity  by  cleanliness. 
Therefore  they  must  bathe  and  wash  their  whole  bodies  before 
praying.  For  the  same  reason  they  take  a  vomitive  when  they 
wish  to  please  the  deity  well.  They  fast  and  abstain  from 
touching  their  wives,  if  they  desire  their  prayers  to  be  success- 
ful.' 

It  is  evident  that  many  tabus,  among  the 
American  Indians,  no  less  than  among  primitive 
peoples  in  other  parts  of  the  globe,  are  of  this 
hygienic,  or  quasi-hygienic  nature.  Sometimes,  as 
among  the  Tsimshian  (Boas,  p.  50),  when  a  special 
object  is  to  be  attained,  '  to  make  the  ceremony 
very  successful,  their  wives  must  join  them ;  if 
the  wife  should  not  be  true  to  the  husband,  the 
effect  of  the  fasting  is  destroyed.'  Bathing  and 
cleansing  appear  also  frequently,  and  sometimes 
elaborately,  in  connexion  with  mourning  rites 
and  ceremonies  connected  with  the  handling  and 
disposal  of  the  dead.  The  use  of  water  reaches  its 
maximum,  perhaps,  with  the  ancient  Mexicans, 
who  'washed  the  soul.'  The  '  purification '  of  the 
soul  as  a  means  of  curing  the  body  of  disease  was 
in  vogue  among  a  number  of  the  peoples  of  ancient 
Mexico,  as  Father  Gerste  notes  (p.  18).  Water 
was  regarded  as  a  remedy  par  excellence,  because 
'it  cured  the  body  by  washing  the  stains  of  the 
soul.' 

The  use  of  the  bath  (with  some  tribes  daily)  as 
a  hygienic  or  medical  procedure,  often  complicated 
with  religious  or  mystical  ceremonies,  was  wide- 
spread in  all  parts  of  primitive  America,  the  water 
used  having  added  to  it  sometimes  (e.g.  among 
the  Dakotas)  certain  decoctions  of  plants — occa- 
sionally for  the  purpose  of  irritating  the  skin. 
Some  Indian  tribes,  like  the  Hopi  or  Moqui,  and 
the  Pueblos,  avoided  cold  baths  altogether ;  others, 
like  the  Pimas  and  some  tribes  of  Lower'  Cali- 
fornia, preferred  them.  With  quite  a  number 
of  tribes  (Dakotas,  Creeks,  Ojibwa,  Klamath), 
especially  in  the  Rocky  Mountain  region,  hot 
baths  were  followed  immediately  by  cold,  the 
individual  rushing  at  once  from  the  '  sweat-house ' 
and  plunging  into  the  nearest  stream.  Cold  baths 
for  fever  were  in  vogue  among  many  tribes,  and 
the  Huastecs  of  Mexico  even  submitted  smallpox 
patients  to  this  procedure,  thereby  greatly  increas- 
ing the  mortality  from  that  disease.  The  Moqui, 
when  suffering  from  fever  (Bartels,  p.  134),  'used 
to  lie  down  in  the  cold  water  until  they  got  well 
or  died  ' — a  sort  of  '  perpetual  bath,'  as  the  author 
remarks.  Similar  practices  are  reported  from  the 
Winnebagos.  Aspersion  with  cold  water  is  re- 
sorted to  by  several  tribes.  Among  the  tribes  of 
the  Columbia  region  and  the  North  Pacific  coast, 
many  are  very  fond  of  hot  baths,  and  the  institution 
of  the  'sweat-house'  or  primitive 'steam-bath' is 
wide-spread  all  over  the  continent,  from  the  un- 
civilized tribes  of  the  Plains  and  the  Rocky 
Mountain  regions  to  the  more  or  less  civilized 
Aztecs  of  ancient  Mexico,  with  their  temezcalli, 
etc.  The  Mayan  peoples,  likewise,  had  their  tuh. 
In  Mexico,  Central  America,  and  the  Pueblo  region, 
the  '  sweat-houses '  were  more  imposing  construc- 
tions, but  over  a  large  part  of  the  continent  they 
were  simply  made  of  willows  or  the  like,  large 
enough  to  contain  a  single  individual,  the  steam 
being  produced  by  pourin"  water  over  heated 
stones.  The  structure  usually  had  a  temporary 
covering  of  skins  and  blankets.  The  body  was 
sometimes  scraped  before  leaving  the  sweat-house, 
and  some  of  the  Eskimo  are  said  to  '  rub  themselves 
after  the  bath  with  grass  and  twigs.'  According 
to  Henshaw  (Bull.  SO  BE,  pt.  ii.  p.  661)  sweating 
was  practised  among  the  American  aborigines  for 
three  different  purposes:  (1)  as  a  purely  religious 
rite  or  ceremony  for  the  purpose  of  purifying  the 
body  and   propitiating   spirits  ;   (2)  a.?  a  medical 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (American) 


737 


practice  for  the  cure  of  disease  ;  (3)  often  as  purely 
social  and  hygienic  —  '  a  number  of  individuals 
entered  the  sweat-house  together,  apparently 
actuated  only  by  social  instinct  and  appreciation  of 
the  luxury  of  a  steam  bath '  (p.  662).  As  a  religious 
ceremony  it  was  used  by  warriors  before  going 
forth,  by  hunters  previous  to  departing  for  the 
chase,  by  boys  and  girls  at  puberty,  and  by  all 
sorts  of  people  in  time  of  danger,  or  before  under- 
taking special  exploits,  etc.  Moreover,  '  among 
the  Plains  tribes  all  priests  who  perform  ceremonies 
have  usually  to  pass  through  the  sweat-house  to 
be  purified,  and  the  sweating  is  accompanied  by 
special  rituals'  (p.  661).  The  ceremonials  of  the 
sweat-house  with  some  tribes  are  elaborate  and 
complicated,  especially  where  there  is  a  village  or  a 
general  temezcalli  or  estufa.  Nelson  informs  us 
that,  among  the  Alaskan  Eskimo,  the  kashim  used 
for  the  sweat-bath  was  '  the  centre  of  social  and 
religious  life  in  every  village.'  With  most  tribes 
also  the  construction  of  the  sweat-house  '  was 
attended  with  many  rules  and  observances.' 

Massage  was  practised  in  various  ways  by 
numerous  American  peoples  (rubbing,  pressure 
with  hands  or  feet,  etc. ).  Purifications  of  various 
sorts,  including  fasting,  bathing,  taking  various 
'medicines,'  were  in  vogue  among  many  tribes, 
previous  to  participation  in  games  and  other  more 
or  less  ceremonial  performances.  Culin  (op.  cit.) 
refers  to  such  '  medicines '  in  connexion  with  the 
foot-races  of  the  Tarahumare,  the  ball-games  of 
Zuiii,  Cherokee,  Ojibwa,  Choctaws,  Mohawks, 
etc.  Care  regarding  the  satisfaction  of  natural 
necessities  is  reported  from  a  number  of  American 
Indian  peoples.  According  to  Joest  (Int.  Arch.  f. 
Ethn.  vol.  v.  Suppl. ,  1893),  the  Caribs  and  Arawaks, 
who  live  near  rivers,  etc.,  go  thither  for  such 
purposes.  Otherwise,  they  go  to  some  distance 
from  the  village,  scratch  a  hole  in  the  sand,  and 
carefully  cover  up  their  excrement,  cleansing 
themselves  with  sand.  Concerning  the  Caraya 
Indians  of  Brazil,  Ehrenreich  (Bartels,  p.  261) 
remarks  on 

1  the  feeling  of  decency  of  these  savages  exhibited  in  their 
manner  of  defecating,  which  is  of  culture-historical  interest. 
It  is  done  as  far  away  as  possible  from  the  village.  A  hole  is 
made  in  the  sand.  The  individual  Bits  over  it  with  outspread 
legs,  hiding  the  upper  part  of  his  body  behind  a  mat.  The 
excrements  are  always  carefully  buried.' 
Certain  North  American  Indians  also  are  very 
careful  in  the  matter  of  relieving  themselves, 
always  doing  so  out  of  the  public  way,  and  not  in 
view  of  any  one. 

Some  of  the  food-tabus  of  American  Indian 
peoples  have  at  least  a,  prima  facie  hygienic  value. 
Careful  regard  for  the  purity  of  water  is  evident 
both  in  the  Pueblo  region  of  the  south-western 
United  States  and  from  the  early  accounts  of  the 
semi-civilized  peoples  of  ancient  Mexico. 

Ehrenreich  reports  the  Caraya  Indians  of  Brazil 
(cited  by  Bartels,  p.  238)  as  inquiring  of  every 
stranger,  '  Have  you  catarrh  ? '  and  permitting 
him  to  enter  their  cabin  only  after  assuring  them- 
selves that  there  is  no  danger  from  tuberculosis — 
a  disease  upon  the  increase  among  them,  and  of 
whose  infectious  character  they  are  fully  aware. 
But  this  is  post-European.  Among  the  Indians  of 
northern  Mexico  individuals  suffering  from  con- 
tagious or  infectious  diseases  are  abandoned  by 
their  fellows,  who,  however,  place  water  and  wild 
fruits  within  easy  reach  before  leaving  (Bartels, 
p.  242).  The  ancient  Aztecs,  according  to  Gerste 
(p.  18),  had  the  same  fashion  of  treating  severe 
cases  of  disease,  where  death  might  be  expected. 
The  family  of  the  patient  carried  him  to  the 
highest  point  of  some  near-by  mountain,  placed 
beside  him  food  and  a  vessel  of  water,  and  left  him 
to  himself,  for  death  or  cure,  as  the  case  might  be, 
after  forbidding  all  persons  to  go  near  him.  The 
vol.  iv. — 47 


segregation  of  the  patient  in  order  to  keep  away 
evil  spirits,  etc.,  was  in  vogue  among  many  tribes. 
Some,  like  the  Winnebago  Indians  of  Wisconsin 
and  the  Mosquitos  of  Honduras,  went  so  far  as  to 
surround  the  bed  of  the  sick  with  poles  on  which 
were  hung  various  animals,  or  to  hedge  him  in 
with  painted  sticks,  allowing  no  one  but  the 
'medicine-man'  to  approach  the  spot  (Bartels,  p. 
244).  Hygienic  motives  may  also  enter  here  in 
part,  as  also  in  the  case  of  the  abandonment  of 
persons  suffering  from  contagious  or  infectious 
diseases.  Here  perhaps  ought  also  to  be  mentioned 
the  fact  reported  by  Dr.  Farabee  of  the  very 
primitive  Macheyengas  of  eastern  Peru,  that  they 
'  are  more  afraid  of  the  disease  from  which  he  died 
than  of  the  dead  man.' 

11.  Personification  and  forms  of  disease. — The 
disease  or  sickness  is  often  given  some  special  form 
and  recognized  as  having  the  shape  of  some  object 
or  creature,  whose  expulsion  by  the  shaman  or 
other  qualified  person,  with  or  without  the  ac- 
companiment of  primitive  music,  incantations, 
conjurer's  tricks,  and  similar  devices  (the  evil 
object  is  frequently  '  sucked  out '  by  the  medicine- 
man), is  followed  by  relief  or  cure,  temporary  or 
permanent.  Such  procedures  are  known  all  over 
America,  from  Alaska  to  Patagonia,  and  from 
Greenland  to  Brazil.  The  representation  of  the 
disease  as  a  piece  of  bone  is  wide-spread  ;  common 
also  is  the  conception  of  it  as  a  piece  of  stone  or 
some  similar  object.  The  claws  of  such  animals 
as  the  bear,  the  spines  of  the  porcupine,  etc. ,  like- 
wise figure  in  the  same  way.  Living  creatures, 
corporeally  or  spiritually,  constitute  the  disease- 
cause  with  many  American  tribes,  having  in  some 
way  or  other,  of  themselves,  or  through  the  machi- 
nations of  shamans  or  other  evil-disposed  indi- 
viduals, been  introduced  into  the  body  of  the 
patient.  The  Sioux  Indians,  like  some  of  the 
tribes  of  Central  Mexico,  personify  disease  as  a 
worm  ;  the  Klamath  and  certain  of  the  Sioux  as 
some  sort  of  insect ;  some  Indians  of  Central 
Mexico  as  a  large  ant ;  the  Klamath,  Karok,  and 
other  Californian  tribes  of  the  north  as  a  frog  ; 
and  the  Dakotas  as  a  tortoise.  Another  common 
personification  is  a  snake.  The  Twana,  Chi- 
makum,  and  Klallam  Indians  of  the  State  of 
Washington  believe  that  certain  diseases  are 
caused  by  a  wood-pecker  pecking  at  the  heart  of 
the  person  affected.  Even  quite  large  animals  are 
believed  by  some  Indian  tribes  to  make  their  way 
into  the  human  body  and  cause  disease  and  some- 
times death.  Such  are  the  bear  and  deer  among 
the  Dakotas  ;  the  squirrel  among  the  Twana  and 
neighbouring  tribes ;  the  porcupine  among  the 
Sioux ;  the  otter  among  certain  tribes  of  the 
North  Pacific  coast  region  (some  birds  figure  here 
also,  of  considerable  size).  Among  the  Twana, 
Chimakum,  and  Klallam  it  is  believed  that  evil- 
minded  shamans  or  sorcerers  can  send  into  the 
body  of  a  man  a  bear,  which  eats  at  his  heart  and 
so  causes  him  to  become  sick  (Eells,  Ann.  Rep. 
Smiths.  Inst.,  1887,  pt.  i.).  Among  the  Nutka 
Indians  of  Vancouver  Island,  according  to  Boas 
(6th  Hep.  N.  W.  Tribes,  1890,  p.  44), 

'  the  cause  of  sickness  is  either  what  is  called  muyatlg,  i.e. 
sickness  flying  about  in  the  shape  of  an  insect  and  entering  the 
body  without  some  enemy  being  the  cause  of  it ;  or  the  Bick 
person  haB  been  struck  by  sickness  thrown  by  a  hostile  shaman, 
which  iB  called  menu'qcitl.  Their  ordinary  method  of  removing 
diBease  is  by  sucking  and  singing  over  the  patient.' 

12.  Prognostics,  etc. — Devices  for  the  prog- 
nostication and  prophesying  of  the  issues  of  dis- 
eases of  various  sorts  are  reported  from  many 
American  tribes.  Among  the  Kutenai  Indians  of 
south-eastern  British  Columbia,  according  to  Boas 
(5th  Rep.  p.  46),  '  if  the  hands  of  a  dead  man 
(before  the  body  is  buried)  are  closed  so  firmly 
that  they  cannot  be  opened,  it  indicates  that  the 


738 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (American) 


tribe  will  be  healthy  and  strong  and  free  from 
disease.'  The  Indians  of  Miehoacan  (Bartels,  p. 
168),  in  Central  Mexico,  believe  that,  if  the  leaf 
of  a  certain  plant,  when  placed  on  the  sore  place 
of  the  body,  stays  there,  the  man  will  recover  ;  if 
it  drops  off,  his  death  is  certain.  The  Mayas  of 
Yucatan  are  said  to  have  used  a  crystal  for  pur- 
poses of  prognostication.  In  other  parts  of  the 
continent  the  medicine-men,  the  priests  of  the 
Mayas,  used  to  cast  lots  in  order  to  determine 
what  offering  should  be  made  for  the  restoration 
of  the  patient  to  health. 

13.  Transference  of  disease,  '  scape-animals,' 
etc. — The  idea  of  curing  a  sick  person  by  trans- 
ferring the  disease  or  illness  with  which  he  is 
afflicted  to  some  other  creature,  animal  or  human, 
is  met  with  in  various  regions  of  primitive  America. 
Some  of  the  Nahuas  or  Aztecan  peoples  of  ancient 
Mexico  (Gerste,  p.  47)  had  the  custom,  in  cases  of 
violent  fever,  of  fabricating  a  little  dog  of  maize- 
flour,  which  was  then  placed  on  a  maguey-plant 
in  the  public  way ;  it  was  believed  that  the  first 
passer-by  would  carry  off  the  disease,  and  thus 
enable  the  patient  to  recover.  In  like  manner, 
certain  Peruvian  coastal  tribes  used  to  expose  on 
the  public  road  the  clothes  of  the  sick  man,  in  the 
belief  that  any  passer-by  who  touched  them  would 
take  the  disease  upon  himself  and  so  relieve  the 
patient. 

14.  The  animal  world  as  the  cause  of  disease.— 
A  typical  American  Indian  legend  of  the  origin 
of  disease  is  that  of  the  Cherokee  reported  by 
Mooney,  and  given  at  length  in  art.  Cherokees 
(vol.  iii.  p.  505).  According  to  this  myth,  the 
animals  became  so  offended  and  outraged  at  the 
carelessness  of  man  and  the  invasions  of  their 
rights  on  the  part  of  mankind  that  they  held  a 
council  and  determined  to  obtain  revenge  by  each 
of  them  inflicting  some  disease  upon  their  human 
oppressors.  This  they  did,  the  smallest  as  well  as 
the  greatest  providing  his  share.  This  is  why  the 
incantations  and  rites  of  the  Cherokee  medicine- 
men are  so  full  of  references  to  animals,  and  why 
each  disease  is  represented  as  being  caused  by 
some  one  of  them  (the  interesting  details  will  be 
found  in  Mooney's  monograph  upon  this  subject). 
As  a  result  of  the  action  of  the  animals,  the  legend 
goes  on  to  state,  all  the  plants  held  a  council  and 
resolved  to  present  man  with  remedies  for  all  the 
diseases  inflicted  upon  him  by  the  former.  Thus 
it  happens,  also,  that  for  every  disease  brought 
about  by  the  animals,  there  is  a  remedy  to  be 
found  in  the  plant  world.  The  idea  of  the  origin 
of  disease  from  the  animal  world  obtains  among 
many  other  American  tribes  as  well,  and  the 
doctrine  sometimes  suggests  comparison  with  the 
modern  scientific  theories  as  to  the  microbe  origin 
of  many  human  diseases.  Among  the  Klamath 
Indians  of  Oregon,  birds  such  as  the  wood-pecker, 
the  lark,  the  crane,  and  various  sorts  of  ducks  are 
believed  to  be  the  causers  of  disease.  With  them 
also  the  otter  is  made  responsible  for  smallpox. 

15.  Natural  phenomena  as  causes  of  disease.— 
With  some  American  Indian  peoples,  the  shadow 
of  another  person  is  often  harmful.  Among  the 
Shushwap  of  British  Columbia  (Boas,  6th  Rep.  p.  92) 
widows  and  widowers,  while  observing  mourning 
regulations,  '  must  avoid  letting  their  shadows  fall 
upon  a  person,  as  the  latter  would  fall  sick  at 
once.'  Similar  beliefs  prevail  among  the  Bilqula 
(7th  Rep.,  1891,  p.  13).  Lightning,  the  moon's 
tight,  etc. ,  are  sometimes  supposed  to  cause  illness. 
The  Klamath  Indians  seem  to  have  believed  that 
the  wind  had  something  to  do  with  the  causation 
of  disease.  In  some  of  the  incantations  of  these 
Indians  the  west  wind,  in  particular,  is  repre- 
sented as  '  blowing  disease  '  out  of  its  mouth  ;  the 
rainstorm  also  '  calls  up '  disease. 


16.  Human  beings  as  causers  of  disease. — Be- 
sides enchantment,  witchcraft,  sorcery,  and  other 
active  procedures  of  medicine-men  and  medicine- 
women,  by  means  of  which  sickness  or  disease  is 
caused  in  another  individual  or  transferred  to  him, 
there  are  other  ways  in  which  men  and  women 
may  infect  one  another  or  bring  about  a  con- 
dition of  ill-health.  As  may  be  seen  from  the 
abundant  data  in  Ploss's  Das  Weib,  the  menstru- 
ating woman  is  often  regarded  as  a  disease-bringer 
or  a  disease-causer,  and  her  segregation  is  justified 
for  that  reason.  Among  the  Songish  Indians  of 
Vancouver  Island,  according  to  Boas  (6th  Rep.  p. 
22),  '  menstruating  women  may  not  come  near 
sick  persons,  as  they  would  make  them  weak.' 
The  maximum  theory  of  woman's  responsibility 
for  disease  is  met  with  among  the  Chiquitos  of 
Bolivia,  concerning  whose  '  medical  code  '  Charle- 
voix states  (Gerste,  p.  45)  that  '  it  consists  of  two 
prescriptions,— first,  to  suck  the  part  of  the  body 
of  the  patient  affected,  and,  second,  to  kill  some 
woman,  since  women  are  responsible  for  all  the 
misfortunes  of  mankind.'  Among  the  Shushwap 
Indians  of  British  Columbia,  according  to  Boas 
(I.e.  p.  90),  'women  during  their  monthly  periods 
are  forbidden  to  cook  for  their  families,  as  it  is 
believed  that  the  food  would  be  poisonous.'  Among 
the  causes  of  disease  or  sickness  given  by  the 
shamans  of  the  Shushwap  (p.  94)  are  '  that  a 
woman  passed  by  the  head  of  the  patient,  or  that 
the  shadow  of  a  mourner  fell  upon  him.'  Ideas 
cognate,  more  or  less,  with  the  '  evil  eye '  super- 
stitions of  the  Old  World  are  met  with  in  vari- 
ous parts  of  primitive  America.  The  shamans 
of  many  tribes  (e.g.  Shahaptin,  Klamath,  and 
other  peoples  of  the  Oregonian-Columbian  region) 
are  believed  to  be  able  to  '  shoot '  diseases  from 
their  eyes.  Against  these  instances  of  maleficent 
human  beings  may  be  cited  cases  of  twins  as  dis- 
ease curers.  As  already  noted  in  art.  Children 
(vol.  iii.  p.  526),  several  American  Indian  tribes, 
particularly  in  the  North  Pacific  coast  region, 
believe  that  twins  are  gifted  with  the  power  of 
curing  diseases. 

Thus,  among  the  Kwakiutl  (Boas,  5th  Rep.  p.  51),  twins,  who 
are  thought  to  be  transformed  salmon,  '  have  the  power  of 
curing  diseases,  and  use  for  this  purpose  a  rattle  called 
K'odqaten,  which  has  the  shape  of  a  flat  box  about  three 
feet  long  by  two  feet  wide';  among  the  Nak*6mgylisila 
(6th  Rep.  p.  62),  '  twins,  if  of  the  same  sex,  were  salmon 
before  they  were  born.  .  .  .  The  father  dances  for  four  days 
after  the  children  have  been  born,  with  a  large,  square  rattle. 
The  children,  by  swinging  this  rattle,  can  cure  disease  and 
procure  favourable  winds  and  weather.' 

17.  Soul  and  disease. — In  primitive  America  a 
great  variety  of  ideas  as  to  the  relationship  of  the 
soul  to  disease  and  kindred  phenomena  of  the 
human  body  prevailed.  Indeed,  we  meet  with  all 
grades — from  the  simple  belief  of  the  Arawakan 
Macheyengas  of  eastern  Peru,  who,  according  to 
Dr.  W.  C.  Farabee  (Proc.  Amer.  Antiq.  Society, 
N.S.,  xx.),  think  that  the  soul  '  has  nothing  to  do 
with  life,  sleep,  disease,  or  death,'  to  the  elaborate 
and  quite  metaphysical  doctrines  of  some  of  the 
tribes  occupying  higher  cultural  stages,  where 
life,  sleep,  disease,  and  death  have  often  to  be 
interpreted  in  relation  to  the  existence  of  a 
plurality  of  souls,  constituting  sometimes  a  hier- 
archical series.  Among  the  Indians  of  the  North 
Pacific  coast  regions  there  are  some  (for  example, 
certain  tribes  of  the  Fraser  River,  in  British 
Columbia)  who  believe  in  the  existence  of  '  several 
souls,  the  loss  of  one  of  which  causes  partial  loss 
of  life,  i.e.  sickness,  while  the  loss  of  all,  or  of  the 
principal  one,  entails  death ' ;  but,  according  to  Boas 
(Bull.  SO  BE,  pt.  ii.  p.  617),  the  idea  that  the  '  life  ' 
is  associated  with  the  vital  organs  (blood,  breath, 
etc.),  the  loss  of  which  causes  death,  'is  not 
strongly  developed  among  the  American  abori- 
gines.'    The  Hidatsa  Indians  of  the  Siouan  stock. 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (American) 


739 


like  the  Fraser  River  tribes,  believe  in  a  plurality 
of  souls,  as  do  a  number  of  other  American  peoples. 
The  doctrine  of  souls  and  of  disease  among  the 
Chinook  Indians  has  been  discussed  by  Boas 
{JAFL,  1S93,  pp.  39-43).  Here  there  are  said  to  be 
two  souls,  a  larger  and  a  smaller ;  when  a  man  is 
sick,  it  is  because  the  latter  has  left  his  body,  and 
he  recovers  when  the  shaman  or  medicine-man 
has  caught  the  soul  and  returned  it  to  him.  In 
various  parts  of  America  the  devices  for  *  soul- 
catching'  are  sometimes  detailed,  with  extensive 
ceremonial,  ritual,  etc.  Among  the  Tlinkit,  Haida, 
and  Tsimshian  Indians,  according  to  Boas  (5th 
Rep.  p.  58), 

'  their  art  consists  in  extracting  the  sickness  or  in  finding  and 
restoring  the  soul  of  the  sick  person.  In  trying  to  find  it, 
three  or  four  shamans  sing  and  rattle  over  the  sick  person 
until  they  declare  they  have  found  the  whereabouts  of  his  soul, 
which  is  supposed  to  be  in  the  possession  of  the  salmon  or 
olacken  (candle-fish),  or  in  that  of  the  deceased  shaman.  Then 
they  go  to  the  place  where  it  is  supposed  to  be,  and  by  singing 
and  incantations  obtain  possession  of  it,  and  enclose  it  in  a 
hollow  carved  bone.  Then  mountain-goat  tallow,  red  paint, 
eagle-down,  and  other  valuable  objects  are  burnt,  and  the 
soul  held  over  the  fire.  The  bone  is  then  laid  upon  the  Bick 
man's  head,  the  shaman  saying,  "  Here  is  your  soul.  Now 
you  will  be  better  and  eat  again."  Sometimes  the  soul  is  sup- 
posed to  be  held  by  a  shaman,  who  is  paid  for  returning  it.' 
The  soul  of  an  individual  can  be  removed  from 
his  body  through  the  *  magic'  of  his  enemies,  their 
more  powerful  orenda,  to  use  the  term  of  Hewitt, 
and  can  be  brought  back  only  by  the  exercise  of 
the  same  practices  of  a  higher  order  or  a  greater 
cunning.  Among  the  Songish  Indians  the  lower 
sort  or  shamans,  or  sidua,  who  are  generally 
women,  are  able  to  cure  such  diseases  as  are  not 
due  to  the  soul's  absence  from  the  body.  The 
higher  class  of  shamans,  or  squnadmt  are  able  to 
see  the  soul  and  to  catch  it  when  it  has  left  the 
body  and  its  owner  is  sick.  A  man  becomes  a 
squnadm  by  intercourse  with  supernatural  powers 
in  the  woods,  where  he  acquires  a  guardian  spirit, 
*  called  the  trk'dyin,  corresponding  to  what  is 
known  as  the  tamanowus  in  the  Chinook  jargon, 
and  "medicine"  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.7 
The  method  of  procedure  of  the  squnadm  in  dis- 
ease-curing and  soul-catching  is  thus  described  by 
Boas  {6th  Rep.  30) : 

'  When  he  returns  from  the  woods,  the  shaman  is  able  to 
cure  diseases,  to  see  and  to  catch  souls,  etc.  The  best  time  of 
the  day  for  curing  disease  is  at  nightfall.  A  number  of  people 
are  invited  to  attend  the  ceremonies.  The  patient  is  deposited 
near  the  fire,  the  guests  sit  around  him.  Then  they  begin  to 
sing  and  beat  time  with  sticks.  The  shaman  (who  uses  no 
rattle)  has  a  cup  of  water  standing  next  to  him.  He  takes  a 
mouthful,  blows  it  into  his  hands,  and  sprinkles  it  over  the 
sick  person.  Then  he  applies  his  mouth  to  the  place  where  the 
disease  is  supposed  to  be,  and  sucks  at  it.  As  soon  as  he  has 
finished  sucking,  he  produces  a  piece  of  deer-skin  or  the  like 
as  though  he  had  extracted  it  from  the  body,  and  which  is 
supposed  to  have  produced  the  sickness.  If  the  soul  of  the 
sick  person  is  supposed  to  be  absent  from  the  body,  the  shaman 
sends  his  trk'dyin  (not  his  soul)  in  search.  The  tVk'tiyin  brings 
it,  and  then  the  shaman  takes  it  and  puts  it  on  the  vertex  of 
the  patient,  whence  it  returns  into  his  body.  These  perform- 
ances are  accompanied  by  a  dance  of  the  shaman.  Before  the 
dance  the  sioua  must  give  a  name  to  the  earth,  which  else  would 
swallow  the  shaman.  When  acting  as  conjurer  for  sick  per- 
sons, he  must  keep  away  from  his  wife,  as  else  his  powers 
might  be  interfered  with.  He  never  treats  members  of  his 
own  family,  but  engages  another  shaman  for  this  purpose.  It 
is  believed  that  he  cannot  cure  his  own  relatives.  Rich  per- 
sons sometimes  engage  a  shaman  to  look  after  their  welfare,' 

Shamans  are  able  to  make  people  sick,  no 
less  than  to  cure  them  of  illness.  The  Nutka 
Indians,  according  to  Boas  (6th  Rep.  p.  44),  have 
the  following  curious  belief  as  to  the  cause  of 
sickness  : 

1  The  soul  has  the  shape  of  a  tiny  man ;  its  seat  is  in  the 
crown  of  the  head.  As  long  as  it  stands  erect,  the  person  to 
whom  it  belongs  is  hale  and  well  ;  but,  when  it  loses  its  upright 
position  for  any  reason,  its  owner  loses  his  senses.  The  soul  is 
capable  of  leaving  the  body  ;  then  the  owner  grows  sick,  and, 
if  the  soul  is  not  speedily  restored,  he  must  die.  To  restore 
it,  the  higher  class  of  shamans,  called  k-ok-oatsmaah  (soul- 
workers),  are  summoned.' 
Among  the  Kwakiutl  Indians  (p.  59)  : 

1  If  a  man  feels  weak  and  looks  pale,  the  seer  (shaman)  is 


sent  for.  He  feels  the  bead  and  root  of  the  nose  of  the  patient, 
and  finds  that  his  soul  has  left  his  body.' 
The  soul  is  caught  again  at  night  by  the  shaman 
to  the  accompaniment  of  incantations,  etc.,  as 
already  described  for  the  Songish.  Among  tha 
Shushwap  the  bringing  back  of  the  soul  is  an 
elaborate  performance.  Among  the  Bilqula  (Bel- 
lacoola)  the  following  belief  obtains  (7th  Rep. 
p.  14)  : 

'  The  soul  is  believed  to  dwell  in  the  nape.  It  is  similar  in 
shape  to  a  bird  enclosed  in  an  egg.  If  the  shell  of  the  egg 
breaks  and  the  soul  flies  away,  its  owner  must  die.  Shamans 
are  able  to  see  and  to  recover  souls.  By  laying  their  hands  on 
the  nape  of  a  person  they  are  able  to  tell  whether  his  soul  is 
present  or  whether  it  has  left  the  body.  If  the  soul  should 
become  weak,  they  are  able  to  restore  it  to  its  former  vigour. 
If  a  person  swoons,  it  is  believed  that  his  soul  has  flown  away 
without  breaking  its  shell.  The  shaman  hears  its  buzzing 
wings,  which  give  a  sound  like  that  of  a  mosquito.  He  mav 
catch  and  replace  it  in  the  nape  of  its  owner.  If  the  soul 
leaves  the  body  without  breaking  its  shell  the  owner  becomes 
crazy. ' 

Unlike  many  other  Indian  tribes,  the  Bilqula 
believe  that  the  art  of  shamanism  is  a  direct  gift 
of  the  deity  called  Snq,  obtained  during  illness, 
and  not  procurable  by  means  of  fasting,  praying, 
etc.  Among  the  Chilliwack,  according  to  Hill- 
Tout  {Rep.  on  Ethnol.  Surv.  of  Canada,  1902,  p.  9), 
the  shaman  sends  his  own  soul  out  to  catch  the  soul 
which  has  escaped  from  the  body  of  his  patient. 
Among  the  Twana  Indians,  who  have  the  practice 
of  'soul-catching,'  the  reason  given  for  its  perform- 
ance at  night  is  that  night  on  earth  corresponds  to 
day-time  in  the  spirit- world.  Among  the  Klamath 
Indians  of  Oregon,  the  treatment  of  the  sick  takes 
place  in  the  winter-house  in  complete  darkness. 

18.  Ghosts  or  spirits  of  the  dead  and  disease. — 
An  opinion  met  with  among  many  of  the  aborigines 
of  America  is  that,  in  some  way  or  other,  the  ghosts 
or  spirits  of  the  dead  are  responsible  for  the  diseases 
and  sicknesses  that  afflict  mankind.  Among  the 
Kwakiutl  of  Vancouver  Island,  to  see  the  ghosts 
of  the  dead,  when  they  re-appear  on  earth,  entails 
sickness  and  death  (Boas,  5th  Rep.  p.  43) ;  with 
certain  Siouan  tribes,  to  touch  them  or  be  touched 
by  them  as  they  move  unseen  through  the  air  has 
the  same  effect.  Many  peoples,  however,  believe 
in  an  active  role  of  these  spirits  in  afflicting  human 
beings  with  disease ;  this  sometimes  amounts  to 
taking  possession  of  the  body  or  of  some  part  or 
member  of  it.  Among  the  coast  Salish  (Boas,  ib. 
p.  52),  it  is  believed  that  '  the  touch  or  the  seeing 
of  ghosts  brings  sickness  and  death. '  So,  also,  with 
the  Songish  (6th  Rep.  p.  28),  who  believe  that 

'  their  touch  causes  sickness.  They  make  those  who  have  not 
regarded  the  regulations  regarding  food  and  work  mad.  Their 
touch  paralyzes  man.  When  one  feels  afraid,  being  alone  in  the 
woods  or  in  the  dark,  it  is  a  sign  that  a  ghost  is  near.' 

The  following  is  reported  by  Boas  (6th  Rep. 
p.  61)  from  the  Kwakiutl : 

'  The  sight  of  a  ghost  is  deadly.  A  few  years  ago,  a  woman, 
who  was  wailing  for  her  mother,  suddenly  fell  into  a  swoon. 
The  people  first  believed  her  to  be  dead,  and  carried  the  corpse 
into  the  woods.  There  they  discovered  that  she  continued  to 
breathe.  They  watched  her  for  two  days,  when  she  recovered. 
She  told  them  that  she  had  seen  two  people  enter  the  house. 
One  of  them  had  said  :  "Don't  cry  ;  1  am  your  mother's  ghost. 
We  are  well  off  where  we  live."  She  had  replied:  "No;  I 
mourn  because  you  have  left  me  alone."  Then  she  had  fallen 
into  a  deep  swoon.' 

This  explanation  of  swooning,  fainting,  and  simi- 
lar states  is  common  all  over  primitive  America. 
Among  the  Shushwaps  (p.  93),  '  when  a  person 
faints,  it  is  a  sign  that  a  ghost  pursues  him. 

19.  The  hereafter  of  those  dying-  from  sickness 
and  disease. — Among  the  American  Indians,  one 
frequently  meets  the  idea  that  those  dying  by 
violent  deaths,  women  dying  in  childbirth,  and 
people  whose  death  is  due  to  sickness  or  disease 
go  to  certain  special  abodes  in  the  hereafter.  Thus 
the  Tlinkit,  according  to  Boas  (5th  Rep.  p.  47), 

'  believe  that  the  soul,  after  death,  lives  in  a  country  similar  to 
ours.  Those  who  have  died  a  violent  death  go  to  heaven,  to  a 
country  ruled  by  Tahit ;  those  who  die  bj'  sickness  (also  women 
dying  in  childbed)  go  to  a  country  beyond  the  borders  of  the 


740 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (American) 


earth,  but  on  the  same  level.    It  is  said  that  the  dead  from  both 

countries  join  during  the  daytime.     I  believe  that  this  idea, 

which  is  also  held  by  the  Haida,  must  be  ascribed  to  Eskimo 

influence.' 

A  special  heaven  for  women  dying  in  childbed  is 

met  with  elsewhere  among  uncivilized  tribes  ;  also 

in  ancient  Mexico. 

20.  Disease  and  the  gods  and  demons. — The 
conception  of  disease  as  the  work  of  deity  or  of 
demons  has  not  yet  vanished  altogether  from  the 
minds  of  the  civilized  Christian  peoples  of  the 
globe,  and  it  is  strongly  entertained  by  many 
tribes  of  American  Indians  representing  practi- 
cally all  grades  of  culture  in  the  primitive  New 
World.  The  Iroquoian  Onondaga,  e.g.,  believe 
that  the  evil  demons  known  as  Hondoi  cause  both 
disease  and  misfortune  among  men  and  women, 
but,  when  appeased  by  dances  and  other  cere- 
monies and  by  offerings  of  food,  tobacco,  and  the 
like,  they  become  friendly  and  protect  them  from 
sickness  and  disease,  as  well  as  from  witchcraft. 
In  the  dances  and  kindred  ceremonials  of  the  Iro- 
quoian 'medicine-societies,'  women  masked,  repre- 
senting these  disease-demons  with  distorted  human 
faces,  are  employed.  The  secret  medicine-societies 
of  the  pagan  Seneca  have  recently  been  studied  by 
A.  C.  Parker,  himself  of  Iroquoian  descent.  These 
societies  serve  for  the  healing  of  disease  and  the 
furtherance  of  well-being  in  the  broadest  sense. 
In  a  Tsimshian  myth  (Boas,  6th  Rep.  p.  50)  '  the 
master  of  the  moon,'  the  pestilence  (Haiatiloq), 
appears  as  a  powerful  deity — something  ascribable 
to  the  influence  of  the  neighbouring  Kwakiutl. 
The  Sacs  and  Foxes  believe  that  the  spirit  of  sick- 
ness, Apenaweni,  hovers  about,  seeking  entrance 
into  the  lodges  of  the  Indians.  Among  the  Nez- 
Perce  Indians  there  is  a  general  ceremony,  lasting 
from  3  to  7  days,  carried  on  by  all  the  men  of  the 
community  who  are  between  18  and  40  years  of 
age,  with  the  object  of  conquering  Mawish,  the 
spirit  of  fatigue  (Bartels,  p.  235) ;  and  the  Indians 
believe  firmly  that  by  means  of  it  they  ensure 
themselves  great  bodily  strength  and  capacity  for 
resistance  to  fatigue. 

Water-demons  are  sometimes  credited  with  keep- 
ing the  souls  of  men,  and  thus  causing  various 
diseases  and  sicknesses.  Examples  of  this  are  the 
TSakan  of  the  Mexican  Coras,  described  by  Preuss, 
and  the  Pujio  of  the  Indians  of  the  Bolivian- 
Argentinian  border-land,  of  which  an  account  is 
given  by  Boman  (Antiq.  de  la  rig.  and.,  vol.  i. 
[1908]).  In  the  case  of  the  Pujio,  a  rather  com- 
plicated offering  is  made,  after  which  the  soul  is 
called  back.  The  soul  is  also  called  back  when 
one  is  'frightened  to  death.'  Among  the  Ipurina 
Indians  of  Brazil,  persons  whose  recovery  from 
illness  or  disease  is  not  expected,  and  upon  whom 
all  the  arts  of  the  shaman  have  been  exercised 
in  vain,  are  devoted  to  InJcisi,  'the  great  water- 
snake,'  a  prominent  figure  in  their  mythology. 
Ehrenreich  thus  describes  their  actions  in  this 
matter  (cited  in  Bartels,  p.  248) : 

'  If  there  are  any  sick  people  who  are  beyond  anything  but  the 
help  of  the  Snake,  one  of  the  shamans  proceeds  to  the  river  to 
call  the  Water-Spirit.  After  all  accompanying  him  have  dis- 
appeared, the  Spirit  comes  forth,  and  asks  first  after  what  gifts 
have  been  brought.  If  he  is  satisfied  with  these,  he  declares 
himself  ready  for  the  reception  of  the  sick  man.  The  latter  is 
stupefied  with  tobacco  and  thrown  into  the  river,  on  the  bottom 
of  which  he  falls  "  with  a  dull  thud,"  and  wakes  up.  The  Water- 
Spirit  takes  him  into  his  house  and  restores  him.  The  method 
of  cure  is  not  clearly  given,  but  the  recovered  patient  remains 
for  ever  in  the  realm  of  the  Water-Snake,  and  lives  there  happily 
and  gloriously,  with  no  desire  to  return  to  earth.  The  accident- 
ally drowned  find  the  same  reception,  while  those  already  dead 
on  earth  are  rejected.  Moribund  people  are  often  hurried  into 
the  next  world  by  the  clubs  of  the  shamans.' 

21.  Disease  as  punishment. — The  conception  of 
disease  as  punishment  for  the  known  or  unknown 
sins  and  offences  of  the  individual,  the  family,  or 
the  community  is  wide-spread,  and  is  not  confined 
to  any  particular  stage  of  culture,  either  in  the  Old 


World  or  in  the  New.  Primitive  America  furnishes 
a  number  of  interesting  examples.  The  breaking 
of  tabus,  and  the  disregarding  of  various  other  re- 
ligious or  semi-religious  commandments  and  regu- 
lations, are  believed  by  tribes  all  over  the  conti- 
nent to  be  followed  by  punishments  which  often 
take  the  form  of  some  sickness  or  affliction  of  body 
or  mind,  or  of  both  together.  The  breaking  of 
food-tabus,  in  particular,  is  thought  to  bring  dis- 
eases of  various  sorts  on  the  guilty  ;  likewise,  the 
non-observance  or  neglect  of  the  customs  and  cere- 
monies relating  to  menstruation,  puberty,  child- 
birth, coitus,  etc.  The  Mayas  of  Yucatan  and  the 
Aztecs  of  ancient  Mexico,  both  representing  the 
highest  reaches  of  primitive  American  civilization, 
believe  that  certain  diseases  were  sent  upon  the 
individual,  etc.,  in  consequence  of  sin  ;  the  former 
holding  also  that  it  sometimes  was  for  sins  uncon- 
fessed.  This  topic  is  discussed  by  Preuss  in  his 
article  on  sin  in  ancient  Mexican  religion  (see  Lit.). 
It  appears  that  the  Aztecs  believed  diseases  and 
misfortunes  of  many  sorts  to  be  due  to  the  sinful 
nature  of  man.  Sacrilege  and  offences  against  the 
State  were  punished  by  the  gods.  Tezcatlipoca, 
e.g.,  sent  leprosy,  sexual  diseases,  gout,  skin 
diseases,  dropsy,  etc.  Father  Gerste  (p.  19)  says 
on  this  point  that,  in  cases  of  severe  illness  or 
grave  diseases,  the  'doctor'  told  the  patient  that 
he  must  have  committed  some  sin,  and  kept  ques- 
tioning him  until  he  confessed  some  offence — very 
old,  perhaps,  and  almost  forgotten.  The  principle 
of  medication  here  was  to  purify  the  soul  first,  and 
then  the  body  might  get  well.  Certain  Central 
American  peoples,  of  the  Mayan  stock,  had  prac- 
tically the  same  ideas  and  method  of  procedure  by 
confession,  etc. 

22.  Special  and  protective  deities  of  shamans, 
etc. — Among  not  a  few  tribes,  especially  those  be-  . 
longing  to  the  ancient  civilized  peoples  of  Mexico, 
Central  and  South  America,  the  'doctors,'  'medi- 
cine-men,' etc.,  had  their  special  protective  divini- 
ties. Such,  e.g.,  were,  among  the  Aztecs  and 
closely  related  peoples,  Toci,  the  great,  ancient 
mother,  particularly  friendly  to  women -doctors 
and  midwives,  who  figured  in  the  ceremonials  in 
her  honour ;  Xilonen,  a  goddess  to  whom  a  young 
maiden  was  offered  in  sacrifice  ;  Tzapotla  tenan,  or 
'  the  mother  of  Tzapotlan,'  to  whom  was  attributed 
the  discovery  of  the  medicinal  resin  called  oxitl,  and 
who  was  specially  worshipped  by  male  'doctors'; 
Ixtlilton  (also  called  Tlaltecuin),  god  of  song, 
dancing,  games,  etc.,  into  whose  temple  sick  chil- 
dren were  taken,  to  dance  (if  they  could)  before 
his  image,  and  drink  of  the  holy  water  preserved 
in  the  sanctuary.  The  deities  Tlaltecuin,  Xochi- 
cauacan,  Oxomoco,  and  Cipactonal  especially  were 
credited  with  the  beginnings  of  medical  art. 
Among  the  Mayas,  the  culture-hero,  Itzamna,  is 
said  to  have  been  the  originator  of  medicine  ;  the 
same  thing  is  said  of  Xmucan  and  Xpiyacoc  among 
the  kindred  Quiches  of  Guatemala.  The  culture- 
hero,  as  primal  shaman,  appears  also  in  S.  America, 
e.g.,  in  the  Yurupari  legend  reported  by  Stradelli 
from  the  head-waters  of  the  Orinoco.  The  Guar- 
ayan  (Bolivia)  Abaangui  prepares  the  first  chicha, 
or  intoxicating  drink,  from  maize.  Many  myths 
relate  that  the  '  medicine '  was  received  directly 
or  indirectly  from  the  gods  themselves  or  their 
representatives,  the  Twins,  who  figure  so  con- 
spicuously in  the  mythologies  of  the  south-western 
United  States,  etc.  ;  the  'transformers'  of  the 
North  Pacific  coast  ;  or  such  animal  -  deities  as 
the  coyote  in  the  Rocky  Mountain  region  and 
among  the  Plains  tribes.  Hoffman  has  recorded 
the  great  Ojibwa  myth  of  the  transference  to  man 
by  the  culture -hero,  Manabozho,  of  the  'grand 
medicine.'  Cushing  has  also  published  the  Zufii 
account  of  the  teaching  of  '  medioine '  to  the  first 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Assyro-Babylonian) 


741 


men  by  the  Twins,  who  are  the  chief  culture-figures 
in  Pueblo  mythology. 

23.  Human  sacrifice  as  a  cure  for  disease. — The 
sacrifice  of  animals,  etc.,  as  a  more  or  less  religious 
ceremonial  in  connexion  with  the  ritual  of  '  medi- 
cine '  is  known  from  various  regions  of  the  globe, 
where  the  process  of  getting  well  in  body  is  carried 
out  on  lines  similar  to  getting  well  in  mind,  and 
maintaining  harmony  between  man  and  the  powers 
beyond  and  above  him.  In  this  way  human  sacri- 
fice sometimes  occurs.  Some  of  the  Indian  tribes 
of  ancient  Mexico,  according  to  Orozco  y  Berra, 
cited  by  Father  Gerste  (p.  19),  used,  in  cases  of 
very  grave  illness  of  the  father  or  the  mother,  to 
kill  the  youngest  child  as  an  expiatory  sacrifice. 

Literature. — Besides  the  other  references  in  the  text,  the 
following  works  may  be  cited  as  of  first  importance :  A.  S. 
Ashmead,  'Some  Observations  on  certain  Pathological  Ques- 
tions concerning  the  Mutilations  represented  on  the  Anthropo- 
morphous huacos  Pottery  of  Old  Peru,'  JV.r.  Med.  Jour.,  1909, 
pp.  857-SG1,  and  other  writings  on  the  subject  of  syphilis  in 
America ;  M.  Bartels,  Die  Medizin  der  Naturvblker,  Leipzig, 
1893 ;  I.  Bloch,  '  Der  Ursprung  der  Syphilis,  Morbus  Amen- 
canus,'  Intern.  Amerik.-Kongr.  xiv.  (1904)  57-79,  and  recent 
volume  on  same  topic  ;  F.  Boas,  'The  Doctrine  of  Souls  and  of 
Disease  among  the  Chinook  Indians,'  JAFL,  1893,  pp.  39-43, 
and  other  contributions  ;  J.  G.  Bourke,  'The  Medicine-men  of 
the  Apache,'  9  RBEW,  1S92,  pp.  443-600;  S.  Culin,  'Games 
of  the  North  American  Indians,'  24  RBEW,  1907,  pp.  3-809; 
R.  B.  Dixon,  '  Some  Aspects  of  the  American  Shaman,' 
JAFL  xxi.  (1908)  1-12,  and  other  writings  ;  A.  Gerste,  Notes 
sur  la  me'decine  et  la  botanique  des  anciens  Mexicains2,  Paris, 
1910;  W.  J.  Hoffman,  'The  Mide'wiwin  or  "Grand  Medicine 
Society"  of  the  Ojibwa,'  7  RBEW,  1891,  pp.  143-300;  A. 
Hrdlicka,  various  contributions,  but  especially  Physiological 
and  Medical  Observations  among  the  Indians  of  South.  Western 
United  States  and  Northern  Mexico  (Bull.  Si  BE,  1908);  J.  G. 
McGuire,  '  Pipes  and  Smoking  Customs  of  the  American 
Aborigines/  Rep.  U.S.  Nat.  Mus.,  1897;  J.  Moonev,  'The 
Sacred  Formulas  of  the  Cherokees,'  7  RBEW,  1885-1886,  pp. 
301-397,  and  other  writings ;  A.  G.  Morice,  '  Dene  Surgery,' 
Trans.  Canadian  Inst.  (Toronto)  vol.  vii.  (1901),  pp.  15-27 ;  E. 
von  Nordenskibld,  'Recettes  magiques  et  medicales  du  Pcrou 
et  de  la  Bolivie,'  Journ.  Soc.  des  Amir,  de  Paris,  N.S.,  iv.  (1907) 
153-174  ;  R.  Palma,  La  uta  del  Peru,  Lima,  1908 ;  Ploss- 
Bartels,  Das  Weib  in  der  Natur-  und  Vblkerkunde  3,  Leipzig, 
1891,  and  Das  Kind  in  Branch  und  Sitteder  Vblker-,  2  vols., 
Leipzig,  1884  ;  K.  T.  Preuss,  '  Die  Siinde  in  der  mexikanischen 
Religion,'  Globus,  lxxxiii.  (1903)  253-257,  268-273  ;  T.  C.  Tello, 
La  Antiguedad  de  la  siftlis  en  el  Peru,  Lima,  1909  ;  H.  U.  Wil- 
liams, 'The  Epidemic  of  the  Indians  of  New  England,  1616-1620, 
with  Remarks  on  Native  American  Infections,'  Johns  Hopk. 
Bosp.  Bull.  (Baltimore)  xx.  (1909)  340-349.  See  also  Handbook 
of  American  Indians  North  of  Mexico  (Bull.  30  BE),  articles 
on  'Health  and  Disease,' 'Medicine  and  Medicine-men,'  'Re- 
ligion,' 'Soul,'  'Sweating  and  Swea t- Houses, '  etc. 

A.  F.  Chamberlain. 

DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Assyro-Baby- 
lonian).— The  chief  difficulty  in  treating  of  the 
subject  of  diseases  in  Babylonia  is  to  separate  the 
ideas  of  magic  from  medicine  proper  in  the  native 
methods  of  healing.  The  Assyrian  physician  never 
shook  himself  entirely  free  from  the  more  super- 
natural side  of  his  profession,  and,  apart  from  the 
magical  incantations  for  the  sick,  even  the  more 
scientific  medical  texts  depend  largely  on  '  white 
magic'  The  latter  consist,  for  the  most  part,  of 
short  material  recipes  on  which  much  of  our  know- 
ledge of  the  Assyrian  pharmacopoeia  rests,  but  they 
also  prescribe  spells  to  be  used  simultaneously  with 
the  administration  of  drugs.  It  is  therefore  clear 
that,  although  many  of  the  recipes  in  use  were 
efficacious  from  a  purely  medical  standpoint,  they 
were  frequently  combined  with  a  series  of  chanted 
abracadabra  of  more  value  to  the  anthropologist 
than  to  the  student  of  medicine. 

Ihe  present  inhabitants  of  the  plains  of  Meso- 
potamia and  the  hills  of  the  neighbourhood  are 
probably  liable  to  the  same  diseases  as  their 
ancestors  were  some  thousands  of  years  ago,  and 
we  may  therefore  start  on  this  hypothesis.  Sudden 
plagues,  of  which  cholera  is  one  of  the  most 
appalling  in  its  effects,  are  met  with  at  all  periods 
of  the  history  of  this  country : 1  dysentery,  typhoid, 

1  Joshua  the  Stylite  (ed.  Wright,  Camb.  1882,  p.  17)  says, '  as  all 
the  people  had  sinned,  all  of  them  were  smitten  with  the  plague ' 
in  the  year  of  Alexander.  The  destruction  of  Sennacherib's 
army  (2  K  1935,  i9  3736)  must  have  been  due  to  some  such  cause. 


and  like  diseases,  common  to  all  countries  where 
the  drainage  is  of  a  casual  nature  ;  smallpox  and 
similar  pests  ;  malaria,  particularly  in  the  swamps 
of  Babylonia ;  and  such  other  ailments  as  are 
common  to  all  mankind  without  distinction  of 
locality.  Particularly,  too,  must  be  mentioned 
the  peculiar  skin-eruption  known  variously  as  the 
'  Baghdad  boil,'  or  '  Mosul  (or  Aleppo)  button,' 
and  the  various  forms  of  ophthalmia  common  to 
Eastern  peoples.  Naturally  there  are  many  forms 
of  sickness  on  the  cuneiform  tablets  that  we  cannot 
identify  with  certainty  until  our  knowledge  of  the 
medical  literature  is  more  advanced. 

The  principal  causes  to  which  sickness  was 
ascribed  were  the  visitation  of  some  god  or  god- 
dess, the  attack  of  a  devil,  and  the  machinations  of 
sorcerers. J  Demoniac  possession  was  firmly  believed 
in,  and  it  is  for  this  reason  that  the  priest  was  as 
likely  to  be  called  in  to  help  a  patient  as  the  real 
doctor.  The  whole  of  the  cuneiform  incantations 
are  full  of  the  belief  that  some  god,  demon,  or 
ghost  is  plaguing  the  sick  man,  and  must  be 
expelled  before  the  patient  can  be  healed  ;  and 
similarly  we  may  presume  that  the  so-called  Peni- 
tential Psalms  have  their  origin,  not  in  the  remorse 
of  the  suppliant,  but  in  his  actual  physical  malady, 
which  he  believes  to  be  due  to  some  supernatural 
blow.  The  medical  texts  are  often  explicit  on  this 
point :  '  When  (a  man)  is  smitten  on  his  neck,  it  is 
the  hand  of  Adad  ;  when  he  is  smitten  on  his  neck, 
and  his  breast  hurts  him,  it  is  the  hand  of  Istar  on 
the  necklace.'2  '  When  a  man's  temples  pain  him, 
and  the  neck  muscles  hurt  him,  it  is  the  hand  of  a 
ghost.'8  '  When  a  ghost  seizes  upon  a  man,  then 
mix  (various  substances)  together,  anoint  him 
(with  them),  and  the  hand  of  the  ghost  will  be 
removed.' 4 

There  is  little  doubt  that  sickness,  as  under- 
stood among  the  Assyrians,  may  be  reckoned  to 
be  due  to  breaches  of  the  savage  tabu.  The  man 
so  attacked  has  transgressed  a  ban  ;  indeed,  much 
of  the  incantation  series  known  by  the  name  of 
Sttrpu  deals  with  long  lists  of  possible  uncleanness 
which  has  caused  the  patient's  malady,  the  word 
used  being  mamit.  In  one  tablet  there  is  a  cate- 
gorical list  of  as  many  as  one  hundred  and  sixty- 
three  mamit,  or  tabus,  each  severally  described 
briefly  in  one  line,  and  the  magician  is  supposed  to 
repeat  all  these,  as  it  is  hoped  that  he  will  thereby 
light  on  the  correct  cause  of  the  trouble,  diagnose 
his  case  properly,  and  show  that  he  possesses  a 
knowledge  of  the  cause  of  the  sickness.  That 
physical  ills  were  held  to  be  the  result  of  incurring 
some  tabu  of  uncleanness  is  quite  clear  from  certain 
mamit  of  the  Third  Tablet,  which  are  as  follows  : 

To  go  before  the  Sun-god  when  'dts&r  [i.e.  under  a  tabu]  (1. 114), 
to  touch  a  man  when  one  is  under  a  tabu,  or  to  pray  in  the  same 
state  (11.  115,  116),  or  to  hold  converse,  eat  the  bread,  or  drink 
the  water  of  one  under  a  tabu  (11.  117-119),  or  to  drink  what  he 
has  left  (1.  120) ;  or,  in  the  Second  tablet,  to  go  before  a  man 
under  a  tabu,  or  to  have  a  man  under  a  tabu  come  before  one 
01.  99,  100),  to  sleep  on  the  bed,  sit  on  the  chair,  or  to  eat  or 
drink  from  vessels,  belonging  to  such  a  man  (11-  101-104). 

According  to  modern  ideas,  many  of  these  might 
be  merely  an  unintelligent  development  of  the 
principle  of  infectious  diseases  (which  will  provide 
an  explanation  in  part),  but  the  first  three  show 
distinctly  that  there  are  other  principles  in  ques- 
tion. The  savage  tabu  of  '  uncleanness '  is  here  in 
a  later  dress,  and  sickness  is  considered  as  the 
result  of  a  breach  of  this  very  intricate  belief.  For, 
if  the  man  for  whom  the  series  Surpu  provides 
a  means  of  relief  be  not  really  and  obviously 
physically  ill,  there  is  no  reason  for  the  existence 
of  such  a  series ;  we  cannot  suppose  that  a  man 
called  in  a  priest  to  relieve  him  from  the  obscure 
tabus  which  he  might  have  incurred,  unless  there 
was  some  unusual  physical  condition  demanding  it. 

1  For  these,  see  art.  Charms  and  Amulktb  (Assyr.-Bab.). 

2  S.  961.  3  S.  1063.  *  K.  4075  ■  cf.  K.  4609  b. 


742 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Assyro-Babylonian) 


Just  as  we  may  presume  the  '  unwitting  '  tabus  (in 
whatever  way  the  word  njjp  may  be  translated)  of 
the  OT  to  have  manifested  themselves  in  some 
physical  way,  so  must  we  suppose  that  an  Assyrian 
would  not  have  recourse  to  a  priest-physician  unless 
absolutely  driven  by  pain  or  fear.  Sickness  is  due 
to  a  demoniac  or  Divine  influence,  and  it  is  well 
known  that  a  savage  fears  to  incur  a  breach  of  tabu 
from  some  ill-defined  sense  of  danger  from  god  or 
devil ;  it  is  clear,  therefore,  that  the  Assyrians  had 
the  same  terror  in  their  minds  when  they  edited 
the  Surpu-sexies  for  the  benefit  of  sick  men.  The 
sorcerer  must  discover — or  trick  the  powers  into 
believing  that  he  has  discovered — the  tabu  which 
the  patient  has  transgressed,  and  he  can  then  pro- 
ceed to  cleanse  the  man  from  his  breach,  and  lift 
the  ban  from  him. 

The  principal  god  connected  with  healing  is  Ea, 
but  it  is  his  son  Marduk  who  is  appealed  to  by  the 
physician  as  intermediary  with  the  higher  power. 
Marduk,  when  called  on  for  help,  is  supposed  to 
repair  to  his  father  to  ask  him  for  his  advice  as  to 
what  the  sick  man  must  do  to  be  healed.  This 
episode  is  constantly  repeated  in  cuneiform  in- 
cantations for  the  sick ;  indeed,  to  such  an  extent 
was  it  recognized  as  the  usual  procedure  that  it  is 
frequently  inserted  in  these  texts  in  one  line  contain- 
ing abbreviations  of  the  three  principal  sentences, 
thus  :  '  Marduk  hath  seen ' ;  '  What  I ' ;  '  Go,  my 
son.'     The  full  formula  is  as  follows  : 

'  Marduk  hath  seen  him  (the  sick  man),  and  hath  entered  the 
house  of  his  father  Ea,  and  hath  said,  "  Father,  headache  from 
the  under  world  hath  gone  forth."  i  Twice  he  hath  said  unto 
him,  "  What  this  man  hath  done  he  knoweth  not ;  whereby  shall 
he  be  relieved?"  Ea  hath  answered  his  son  Marduk,  "O  my 
son,  what  dost  thou  not  know,  what  more  can  I  give  thee  ? 
O  Marduk,  what  dost  thou  not  know,  what  can  I  add  unto  thy 
knowledge?  What  I  know,  thou  knowest  also.  Go,  my  son, 
Marduk.  .  .  ." ' 

Then  follows  the  actual  prescription  for  the 
patient.  This  method  of  bringing  in  a  Divine 
episode  is  nothing  more  than  a  development  of  the 
principle  of  the  Word  of  Power,  which  tradition 
demands  shall  be  one  of  the  sorcerer's  most  potent 
aids  in  spell-working.  A  scene  is  represented  on 
certain  of  the  magical  plaques  which  is  apparently 
intended  to  portray  the  sick  man  and  the  forces 
arrayed  against  him  :  the  celestial  powers,  demons, 
protecting  gods  and  spirits,  the  sick  man  on  his 
bed,  etc.,  form  an  interesting  picture  (see  Frank, 
LSSt  iii.  3). 

Now,  this  Word  of  Power,  so  generally  recognized 
in  all  magic,  consists  in  its  simplest  form  of  the 
name  of  some  Divine  being  or  thing  invoked 
against  the  power  of  evil  which  the  physician  is 
expelling.  Hence  many  of  the  Assyrian  incanta- 
tions end  with  the  line,  '  By  Heaven  be  ye  exor- 
cized !  By  Earth  be  ye  exorcized  ! '  and  numerous 
gods  are  invoked  in  the  same  way. 

Two  other  concomitants  to  the  exorcisms  are 
necessary  to  the  exorcist :  first,  the  knowledge  of 
the  name  or  description  of  the  devil  which  is  being 
expelled ;  and,  second,  some  material  with  either 
medicinal  or  magical  value  whereby  the  cure  may 
be  effected.  The  former  is  as  necessary  as  the 
Word  of  Power  for  a  complete  incantation  ;  when 
the  wizard  has  a  knowledge  of  the  name  of  Ms  foe, 
or,  in  the  case  of  demons,  a  full  description  of  the 
ghost  attacking  the  man,  he  has  assumed  some 
considerable  influence  over  him  which  will  finally 
bring  him  entirely  into  subjection.  The  genesis 
of  such  a  belief  is  to  be  sought  in  the  same  source 
as  the  collateral  superstitions  where  portions  are 
collected  of  the  hair,  nails,  or  footprint-dust  of  any 
one  whom  the  enchanter  wishes  to  bewitch,  or  the 
waxen  figures  made,  in  the  victim's  likeness.  It  is 
enough  if  something  belonging  to  the  person,  not 
necessarily  concrete,  has  been  secured,  and  the 
1  This  is  the  only  variation  in  the  formula,  being  the  first  line 
of  the  tablet. 


name    is   considered  as  an   equivalent  for    more 
tangible  evidence,  such  as  nail-parings. 

The  Assyrian  sorcerer  is  compelled  to  recite  long 
lists  of  ghosts  or  devils  when  he  is  trying  to  con- 
jure the  evil  away  from  his  patient.  The  idea  is 
that,  since  obviously  he  cannot  obtain  the  more 
fleshly  portions  of  his  foe  as  he  might  do  in  the 
case  of  a  human  enemy,  he  shall  mention,  in  place 
of  this,  the  name  or  powers  of  all  possible  evil 
spirits,  and  ultimately,  by  his  much  speaking,  hit 
on  the  correct  identification  of  the  demon,  who  will 
then  admit  the  magician's  superiority.  Hence  we 
find  in  the  Assyrian  texts  such  constantly  recurring 
phrases  as,  '  Whether  thou  art  an  evil  spirit,  or  an 
evil  demon,  or  an  evil  ghost,  or  an  evil  devil,  or  an 
evil  god,  or  an  evil  fiend,  or  sickness,  or  death,  or 
phantom  of  night,  or  wraith  of  night,  or  fever,  or 
evil  pestilence,  be  thou  removed  from  before  me  '  ; 1 
or  even  longer  descriptions  of  ghosts  of  people  who 
have  died  unnatural  deaths,  or  who  have  been  left 
unburied,  and  whose  only  hope  is  to  torment  the 
living  until  they  perform  the  necessary  rites  to 
give  them  peace.5' 

The  third  and  last  element  of  the  incantation  is 
some  drug,  to  which  in  early  times  a  magical, 
Divine  potency  was  attributed,  or  some  charm  or 
amulet,  or,  in  the  broadest  sense,  some  material 
which  will  aid  the  physician  in  his  final  effort. 
The  simplest  is  pure  water,  which  was  frequently 
sprinkled  over  the  patient  as  a  cleansing  medium, 
and  this  is  easily  intelligible.  One  incantation 
(WAI  ii.  51b,  line  1  If.)  runs  thus  :  'All  that  is 
evil,  .  .  .  [which  exists  in  the  body]  of  N.  [may  it 
be  carried  oft],  with  the  water  of  his  body,  the 
washings  from  his  hands,  and  may  the  river  carry 
it  away  downstream  ! '  There  seems  also  to  have 
been  some  principle  of  enclosing  the  possessed  man 
in  a  ring  of  flour  or  other  powder  spread  in  a  circle 
on  the  ground,  as  a  kind  of  heram  through  which 
spirits  could  not  break.  For  instance,  after  an 
'  atonement '  ceremony  has  been  made,  the  wizard 
fumigates  the  man  with  a  lighted  censer,  and  then 
throws  away  the  '  atonement '  (in  this  case  a  kid) 
into  the  street ;  he  then  surrounds  the  man  with 
flour,8  as  a  magic  circle  through  which  no  evil 
demon  can  pass  to  injure  him.  In  another  incanta- 
tion the  sorcerer  says  of  certain  figures  which  he 
has  made  : 

'  On  their  raised  arm  I  have  spread  a  dark  robe, 

A  variegated  cord  I  have  wound  round  their  hands,  I  have 
placet!  tamarisk  (and)  palm-pith, 

I  have  completed  the  usurtu  (magic  circle),  I  have  surrounded 
them  with  a  sprinkling  of  lime, 

With  the  flour  of  Nisaba  (the  corn-god),  the  tabu  of  the  great 
gods,  I  have  surrounded  them, 

I  have  set  for  the  Seven  of  them,  mighty-winged,  a  figure  of 
Nergal  at  their  heads.' 4 
The  tamarisk  (or  some  allied  species  of  tree)  was 
held  aloft  in  the  hand  during  the  priest's  exorcism  ; 
one  of  the  rituals  prescribes  this  to  the  magician, 
who  says,  during  his  ceremonial : 

'  The  man  of  Ea  am  I,  the  man  of  Damkina  am  I,  the  messen- 
ger of  Marduk  am  I,  my  spell  is  the  spell  of  Ea,  my  incantation 
is  the  incantation  of  Marduk.  The  ban  of  Ea  is  in  my  hand,  the 
tamarisk,  the  powerful  weapon  of  Anu,  in  my  hand  I  hold  ;  the 
date-spathe  (?),  mighty  in  decision,  in  my  hand  I  hold.' 5 
On  one  of  the  late  Hebrew  magical  bowls  dis- 
covered at  Niffer  there  is  the  figure  of  a  man  rudely 

1  See  Thompson,  Devils  and  Evil  Spirits  of  Babylonia,  Lon- 
don, 1903,  i.  16-17, 11.  153  ff. 

2  lb.  xxiv  ff.,  also  Semitic  Magic,  p.  7  ff. 

8  Tablet  XI.  of  the  Asakkit-sevies  (Thompson,  Devils,  ii. 
35).  This  is  probably  the  meaning  conveyed  by  amelu  Gudti 
kusurra  esir,  and  not  as  the  present  writer  has  translated  it  in 
the  passage.    See  also  Thompson,  Semitic  Magic,  p.  lvii  ff. 

■1  Zimmern,  '  Ritualtafeln,'  in  Beitrdge  zur  Eenntnis,  etc., 
ii.  169.  The  curious  may  see  much  about  these  magic  circles  in 
the  Middle  Ages  in  Francis  Barrett,  The  Magus,  1801,  p.  99  ff., 
or  even  what  is  believed  about  them  at  the  present  day  by  cer- 
tain who  dabble  in  the  'occult,'  in  Mathers'  Book  of  Sacred 
Magic,  1898,  p.  xxxvii. 

6  (/twMu-series,  Tablet  III.  1.  204  (Thompson,  Devils,  i.  23). 
The  word  translated  'tamarisk'  is  GIS.MA..NU.  undoubtedly 
some  form  of  tree,  the  Assyrian  equivalent  being  eru,  probably 
the  Syriac  'ara'. 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Assyro-Babylonian) 


743 


drawn,  holdi.ig  up  the  branch  of  some  tree  in  his 
hand.1  Frora  Sozomen2  we  learn  that,  when 
Julian  was  aoout  to  enter  a  temple  in  Gaul,  the 
priest,  in  accordance  with  the  pagan  custom, 
sprinkled  wa.,er  upon  him  with  the  branch  of  a 
tree,  doubtless  symbolical  of  a  purificatory  rite.  It 
is  possible  that  we  may  see  some  such  ceremony 
prescribed  in  the  Assyrian  cleansing  rite  : 

*  Perform  thy  goodly  incantation  and  make  perfect  the  water 
thereof  with  priestcraft,  and  with  thy  pure  incantation  do  thou 
oleanse  (the  man  ?) ;  and  take  a  bundle  of  twigs  (?),  pour  the 
water  thereof  on  it,  and  the  laver  (or  water)  that  cleanseth  the 
temple  of  the  gods,'  etc.3 

The  comparison  is,  however,  uncertain,  as  we  have 
no  right  to  assume  that  in  this  case  the  water  was 
sprinkled  upon  the  sick  man  ;  but  Sozomen's  anec- 
dote is  of  value  as  showing  that  branches  were 
used  in  sprinkling  water.4  There  is,  however,  a 
parallel  to  the  Assyrian  rite  in  another  tablet,6 
where  Ea  says : 

'  Take  a  bundle  of  twigs  (?)  and  take  water  at  the  confluence 
of  two  streams,  and  perform  thy  pure  incantation  over  this 
water,  and  cleanse  (the  man)  with  thy  pure  exorcism,  and 
sprinkle  the  man,  the  son  of  his  god,  with  this  water,  and  bind 
his  head  with.  .  .  .' 

Of  other  mystic  plants,  we  find  the  piri'  (which 
is  probably  the  Syr.  per'd,  St.  John's  wort),  the 
batti  (which  may  he  the  Syr.  bal,  the  caper),  and 
the  hulA  (prob.  the  Syr.  Ida,  the  fleabane)  all  used 
to  hang  up  on  the  doors  of  houses  when  a  ceremony 
was  going  on,  as  a  prophylactic  against  demons.6 
The  first-named,  the  St.  John's  wort,  has  always 
had  great  power  in  magic.  '  Gathered  on  Mid- 
summer Eve,  or  on  Midsummer  Day  before  sunrise, 
the  blossoms  are  hung  on  doorways  and  windows  to 
preserve  the  house  against  thunder,  witches,  and 
evil  spirits.' 7  The  number  of  plants  which  occur  in 
the  medical  and  magical  texts  is  very  large  ;  but, 
unfortunately,  they  are  difficult  to  identify,  and 
the  lexicographical  tablets  which  give  the  names 
of  hundreds  do  not  really  afford  much  clue. 

Before  proceeding  to  the  medical  recipes,  we  have 
to  notice  that  peculiar  method  of  healing,  used 
by  all  savages,  and  known  in  modern  times  as 
'  sympathetic  magic'  It  is  quite  unnecessary  here 
to  go  into  the  various  forms  in  which  this  occurs 
in  modern  witchcraft ;  it  is  enough  to  take  as  a 
text  the  homoeopathic  '  hair  of  the  dog  that  bit 
one,'  and  quote  some  of  the  cuneiform  texts  in 
which  this  method  is  employed.8  The  best-known 
examples  occur  in  the  Surpu-a&Tiea,  where  the 
magician  recites  various  formulae  over  a  clove  of 
garlic,  a  date,  a  flock  of  wool,  some  goat's  hair, 
etc.,  pulling  each  in  pieces  and  burning  it  as  he 
does  so.  As  he  destroys  each,  so  will  the  sickness 
depart.  One  quotation  of  an  incantation  will  show 
the  method : 

•  As  this  date  is  cut,  and  cast  in  the  fire, 
The  devouring  flame  consumes  it, 
Never  to  return  to  its  reft  branch, 
Nor  grace  the  board  of  god  or  king ; 
So  may  the  ban,  the  tabu,  the  pain  (?),  the  woe  (?), 
The  sickness,  the  agony,  the  sin,  the  misdeed,  the  wrong- 
doing, the  iniquity, 
The  Bickness  which  is  in  my  body,  my  limbs,  my  muscles, 
Be  cut  off  like  this  date, 
So  may  the  devouring  flame  consume  it, 
The  tabu  go  forth,  and  1  behold  the  light ! ' » 
This  is  the  most  marked  form  of  sympathetic 
magic,  but  the  principle  is  used  obviously  in  much 

1  Hilprecht,  Explorations  in  Bible  Lands,  Edinburgh,  1903, 
p.  147. 

2  HE,  bk.  vi.  ch.  vi. 

3  Thompson,  Devils,  ii.  143  ;  Semitic  Magic,  213. 

4  In  King's  Babylonian  Magic  and  Sorcery,  p.  95,  at  the  end 
of  one  of  the  '  Prayers  of  the  Raising  of  the  Hand,'  we  find  the 
direction,  '  In  the  night  before  Istar  thou  shalt  sprinkle  a 
green  branch  with  pure  water.' 

B  Ti'i-serieB,  Tablet  P  (Thompson,  Devils,  ii.  95  ;  Semitic 
Magic,  212). 

6  Utukku-Beries,  Tablet  B,  1.  72  (Thompson,  Devils,  i.  137). 

7  Frazer,  GB 2  iii.  333  ff.  See  art.  Charms  akd  Amulets 
(Assyr.-Bab.). 

8  The  whole  question  is  thoroughly  gone  into  in  Frazer's 
G£2i.  9ff. 

9  Zimniern,  '  Surpu,'  in  Beitr.  zur  Eenntnis,  etc.  i.  29. 


of  the  cuneiform  priestcraft,  and  it  occurs  in  various 
forms  in  the  examples  given  in  this  articie. 

The  name  of  the  physician  proper  was  asii,  but, 
as  the  treatment  was  frequently  of  a  magical 
nature  rather  than  purely  medical,  it  was  oftener 
the  aSipu-priest  than  a  doctor  who  was  called  in  to 
heal  a  sick  man.  The  aiipu  is  the  magician  who 
can  release  the  patient  from  the  tabu  under  which 
he  lies ;  the  same  word  occurs  in  Hebrew  under 
the  form  aSSAph ;  and  the  name  in  Assyrian  for  the 
incantation  is  Siptu  (from  the  same  root).1  He 
claims  in  his  exorcism  that  he  has  come  supported 
by  the  power  of  Ea,  Damkina,  and  Marduk  : 

'The  man  of  Ea  am  I,  the  man  of  Damkina  am  I,  the  mes- 
senger of  Marduk  am  I.  The  great  lord  Ea  hath  sent  me  to 
revive  the  .  .  .  sick  man  ;  he  hath  added  his  pure  spell  to  mine, 
he  bath  added  his  pure  voice  to  mine,  he  hath  added  his  pure 
spittle  to  mine,  he  hath  added  his  pure  prayer  to  mine ;  the 
destroyers)  of  the  limbs,  which  are  in  the  body  of  the  Bick  man, 
hath  the  power  to  destroy  the  limbs — by  the  magic  of  the  word 
of  Ea  may  these  evil  ones  be  put  to  flight.'2 
Similarly,  when  the  priest  comes  into  the  house  of 
the  patient,  he  declares  that  he  is  aided  by  several 
gods: 

'  When  [I]  enter  the  house,  Samafi  is  before  me,  Sin  is  behind 
[me],  Nergal  is  at  [my]  right  hand,  Ninib  is  at  my  left  hand ; 
when  I  draw  near  unto  the  sick  man,  when  I  lay  my  hand  on 
the  head  of  the  sick  man,  may  a  kindly  spirit,  may  a  kindly 
guardian  angel  stand  at  my  side  i  Whether  thou  art  an  evil 
spirit  or  an  evil  demon,  or  an  evil  ghost,  or  an  evil  devil,  or  an 
evil  god,  or  an  evil  fiend,  or  sickness,  or  death,  or  phantom  of 
night,  or  wraith  of  night,  or  fever,  or  evil  pestilence,  be  thou 
removed  from  before  me,  out  of  the  house  go  forth !  (For)  1 
am  the  sorcerer-prieBt  of  Ea,  it  is  I  who  [recite]  the  incantation 
for  the  sick  man.' 3 

He  completes  the  spell  of  the  Third  Tablet  of  the 
same  series  with  the  words  : 

'  O  Ea,  King  of  the  Deep,  [turn  thou  ?]  to  see  ;  I,  the  magician, 
am  thy  slave.  March  thou  on  my  right  hand,  help  on  my  left ; 
add  thy  pure  spell  to  mine,  add  thy  pure  voice  to  mine,  vouch- 
safe (to  me)  pure  words  ;  make  fortunate  the  utterances  of  my 
mouth,  ordain  that  my  decisions  be  happy.  Let  me  be  blessed 
where'er  I  tread,  let  the  man  whom  I  (now)  touch  be  blessed. 
Before  me  may  lucky  thoughts  be  spoken,  after  me  may  a  lucky 
finger  be  pointed.  O  that  thou  wert  my  guardian  genius,  and 
my  guardian  spirit !  O  Marduk,  who  biesseth  (even)  gods,  let 
me  be  blessed  where'er  my  path  may  be  !  Thy  power  shall  god 
and  man  proclaim,  this  man  shall  do  thy  service,  and  I,  too, 
the  magician  thy  slave.'4 

Armed  with  these  heavenly  powers,  the  priest 
might  exorcize  any  of  the  demons  which  assail 
mankind,  and  one  of  the  commonest  methods  of 
treatment  among  the  priestly  gild  was  an  '  atone- 
ment.' The  word  used  is  kuppuru  (the  noun  is 
takpirtu),  the  same  as  the  Heb.  is?,  as  was  pointed 
out  by  Zimmern  ('  Ritualtafeln,'  p.  92).  The  idea 
in  the  Assyrian  method  is  that  the  demon  causing 
the  sickness  is  to  be  offered  a  substitute  for  his 
victim,  and  hence  a  young  pig  or  kid  is  taken, 
slaughtered,  and  placed  near  the  patient.  The 
devil  goes  forth  at  the  physician's  exorcism  and 
takes  up  its  abode  in  the  carcass  of  the  substitute, 
which  can  then  be  made  away  with,  and  the  bane- 
ful influence  destroyed.  This  is  fully  laid  down 
in  one  of  the  magical  texts  against  the  aSakku 
(provisionally  translated  'fever'),  where  it  is  told 
how  Ea,  the  lord  of  the  incantation,  in  showing  a 
method  of  treating  the  sick  man,  lays  a  kid  before 
Marduk,  saying  : 
'  The  kid  is  the  substitute  for  mankind, 

He  giveth  the  kid  for  his  life, 

He  giveth  the  head  of  the  kid  for  the  head  of  the  man, 

He  giveth  the  neck  of  the  kid  for  the  neck  of  the  man, 

He  giveth  the  breast  of  the  kid  for  the  breast  of  the  man.' 6 
Instead  of  the  kid,  the  substitute  might  be  a 
sucking-pig,  and  the  directions  are  to  put  it  at  the 
head  of  the  sick  man,6  take  out  its  heart  and  put 
it  above  that  of  the  patient,  and  [sprinkle]  its 
blood  on  the  sides  of  the  bed ;   then  the  carcass 

1  On  the  aSipu-priest,  see  Zimmern,  'Ritualtafeln,'  p.  91. 

2  Ufukku-seiies,  Tablet  III.  1.  65  (Thompson,  Devils,  i.  9). 

8  lb.  1.  141  ff.  (Thompson,  Devils,  i.  15  ;  Semitic  Magic,  xxiv.). 

4  lb.  1.  260  ff.  (Thompson,  Devils,  i.  27  ;  Semitic  Magic,  xxiii.). 

6  Tablet  N,  col.  iii.  1.  37  ff.  (Thompson,  Devils,  ii.  21 ;  Semitic 
Magic,  211).  The  reader  is  referred  to  Frazer's  GB  2  for  many 
similar  instances  of  the  transference  of  ills  to  animals. 

6  This  is  rather  doubtful,  owing  to  a  mutilated  line  in  the 
text. 


744 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Assyro-Babylonian) 


must  be  divided  over  the  man,  and  apparently 
spread  upon  him.  The  ritual  continues  with  a 
purification  by  pure  water  and  fumigation  by  a 
censer  (as  in  the  story  of  Tobit),  and  ends  : 

1  Place  twice  seven  loaves  cooked  in  the  ashes  against 

the  shut  door,  and 
Give  the  pig  in  his  stead,  and 
Let  the  flesh  be  as  his  flesh, 
And  the  blood  as  his  blood, 
And  let  him  hold  it ; 
Let  the  heart  (which  thou  hast  placed  on  his  heart) 

be  as  his  heart, 
And  let  him  hold  it.  .  .  .' a 
The  migration  of  demoniac  influence  to  the  pig  is 
closely  paralleled  in  the  story  of  the  Gadarene  swine 
(Mk  5).2  The  Indian  Muslims  of  the  present  day 
who  come  to  Abdulkadir,  the  largest  mosque  in 
Baghdad,  to  make  a  pilgrimage  and  offer  sacrifices, 
'  vow  that  if  a  man  who  is  ill  begins  to  recover  he 
shall  go  to  the  shrine.' 

'  He  is  stripped  to  the  waist.  Then  two  men  lift  a  lamb  or  a 
kid  above  his  head,  and  bathe  his  face,  shoulders,  and  the  upper 
part  of  his  body  with  the  blood.  While  the  butcher  kills  the 
animal  the  sheik  repeats  the  first  sura  of  the  Koran.  They  also 
wrap  him  in  the  skin  of  the  animal.'3 

The  'twice  seven  loaves'  is  paralleled  in  the 
Seventh  Tablet  of  the  Surpu-series :  when  a  man 
has  incurred  a  certain  tabu,  seven  loaves  of  pure 
dough  are  to  be  taken,  and,  after  various  ceremonies, 
the  magician  makes  an  '  atonement '  for  the  patient, 
and  puts  his  spittle  on  the  '  atonement '  as  sym- 
bolical of  the  removal  of  the  tabu  from  the  man 
to  the  substitute.  The  loaves  are  then  to  be  carried 
into  the  desert  to  a  '  clean  place,'  as  in  the  Levitical 
ritual,  and  left  under  one  of  the  thorn  bushes 
growing  there.  At  the  present  day  in  the  Hejaz, 
S  a  child  is  very  ill,  its  mother  will  take  seven  flat 
loaves  of  bread  and  put  them  under  its  pillow, 
giving  them  in  the  morning  to  the  dogs.4  Another 
exorcism  gives  directions  more  fully ;  Marduk  is 
advised  by  Ea  to  take  a  white  kid  of  Tammuz : 
1  Lay  it  down  facing  the  sick  man, 

Take  out  its  heart,  and 

Place  it  in  the  hand  of  that  man  ; 

Perform  the  Incantation  of  Eridu. 

(The  kid  whose  heart  thou  hast  taken  out 

Is  unclean  [?]  meat  wherewith  thou  Shalt  make 
an  atonement  for  this  man.) 

Bring  to  him  a  censer  (and)  a  torch, 

Scatter  it  (the  kid)  in  the  street.' 6 
But  the  Assyrians  did  not  confine  the  '  atonement ' 
ceremonies  to  the  carcasses  of  animals ;  they  had 
other  methods  for  ridding  a  sick  man  of  his  devil, 
notably  that  of  inducing  the  incubus  to  leave  the 
human  body  to  enter  a  little  figure  fashioned  in 
the  likeness  of  the  patient.  The  magician  took 
various  herbs,  put  them  in  a  pot  of  water,  sprinkled 
the  sick  man  with  them,  and  made  'atonement' 
for  him ;  he  then  modelled  a  dough  image  of  his 
patient,  poured  out  his  magic  water  on  him,  and 
fumigated  him  with  incense.  Then,  just  as  the 
water  trickled  away  from  his  body,  the  pestilence 
in  his  body  was  supposed  to  trickle  off,  the  water 
being  caught  in  some  receptacle  beneath,  and 
poured  forth  abroad  that  the  sickness  might  be 
dissipated.* 

Sympathetic  magic  was  likewise  called  in  as 
an  aid  iu  other  cases.  A  sickness-tabu  might  be 
removed  by  the  use  of  charms  made  of  black  and 
white  hair,  just  as  they  are  among  modern  savage 
tribes.  Three  examples  from  different  peoples  will 
be  ample  to  show  how  closely  the  Babylonian 
methods  resemble  those  of  other  nations. 

1  Tablet  N,  col.  ii.  1.  42  ff.  (Thompson,  Devils,  ii.  17;  Semitic 
Magic,  208).  Or  for  the  fifth  and  seventh  line  translate  with 
Fossey  (Recueil  de  Travaux,  new  series,  x.  183),  '  qu'ils  (les 
mauvais  demons)  s'en  emparent.' 

2  On  the  custom  of  sacrificing  sucking-pigs  among  the  Greeks, 
see  AJPh,  1900,  p.  256. 

3  0urtiss,  Prim.  Sem.  Rel.,  Lond.  1902,  p.  205  f. 

4  Zwemer,  Arabia,  Edin.  1900,  p.  283. 

B  Tablet  XI.  of  the  series  Asakku  (Thompson,  Devils,  ii.  33 ; 
Semitic  Magic,  203). 

8  Tablet  'T,'  I.  30  ft.  (Thompson,  Devils,  iu  107;  Semitic 
Magic,  159,  Hi);  cf.  Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  Loud.  1900,  p.  347. 


In  India  the  'fairy-women'  take  three  different  coloured 
threads  and  knot  them  twenty-one  or  twenty-two  times,  and 
when  the  work  is  finished  it  is  fastened  to  the  neck  or  upper  arm 
of  the  patient.1  Among  the  Malays  it  is  customary  to  make  little 
images  of  dough  of  beasts,  etc.,  and  to  place  them  on  a  tray 
with  betel-leaves,  cigarettes,  and  tapers.  One  of  the  tapers  is 
set  on  a  silver  dollar,  with  the  end  of  a  parti-coloured  thread 
inserted  between  the  dollar  and  the  foot  of  the  taper;  this 
thread  the  patient  holds  during  the  repetition  of  the  charm. 
The  disease-devil  is  supposed  to  enter  the  images,  and  as  soon 
as  this  has  happened  the  magician  looses  three  slip-knots  and 
throws  them  away.2  Among  the  modern  Persians,  O'Donovan 
saw  a  similar  method  for  removing  fever ;  a  khan  spun  some 
camel's  hair  to  a  stout  thread,  and  folding  it  three  times  on 
itself  spun  it  again.  He  tied  seven  knots  therein,  blowing  on 
each  one,  and  this  was  to  be  worn  on  the  patient's  wrist,  a  knot 
being  untied  each  day.  When  the  last  knot  was  loosed,  the 
thread  was  to  be  thrown  in  a  ball  into  the  river.3 
The  prescription,  as  given  in  Assyrian,  in  the 
Sixth  Tablet  of  the  Sicrpu-series  runs  as  follows  : 

'He  hath  turned  his  [steps?]  to  a  temple-woman  (?),  IStar 
hath  sent  her  temple-woman  (?),  hath  seated  the  wise-woman 
on  a  couch  (?)  that  she  may  spin  a  white  and  black  wool  into  a 
double  cord,  a  strong  cord,  a  mighty  cord,  a  twi-coloured  cord, 
on  a  spindle,  a  cord  to  overcome  the  ban :  against  the  evil 
curse  of  human  ban,  against  a  divine  curse,  a  cord  to  overcome 
the  ban.  He  (she)  hath  bound  it  on  the  head,  band,  and  foot 
of  this  man ;  Marduk,  the  son  of  Eridu,  the  prince,  with  his 
undefiled  hands  cutteth  it  off,  that  the  ban,  its  cord,  may  go 
forth  to  the  desert  to  a  clean  place.' 4 

Or  again,  in  the  case  of  headache,  a  method  is 
recommended,  as  usual,  by  Ea  to  his  son  Marduk  : 

'  Take  the  hair  of  a  virgin  kid,  let  a  wise  woman  spin  (it)  on 
the  right  side,  and  double  it  on  the  left,  bind  knots  twice  seven 
times,  and  perform  the  Incantation  of  Eridu,  and  bind  the 
head  of  the  sick  man,  and  bind  the  neck  of  the  sick  man,  and 
bind  the  soul  of  the  sick  man,  and  bind  up  his  limbs.' 5 

Without  going  further  afield  into  details  of  com- 
parative magic,  it  is  worth  mention  here  that  the 
same  superstition  is  still  believed  in  at  Mosul,  close 
to  the  mound  of  Nineveh.  A  recipe  for  fever  was 
given  the  present  writer  by  a  boy  employed  on  the 
excavations,  in  which  the  physician,  in  this  case 
a  shaikh,  takes  a  thread  of  cotton  and  ties  seven 
knots  in  it,  putting  it  on  the  patient's  wrist. 
After  seven  or  eight  days,  if  the  fever  continues, 
he  must  keep  it  on ;  if  the  fever  passes,  then  he 
may  throw  it  away.6 

In  one  of  the  Assyrian  charms  for  ophthalmia, 
black  and  white  threads  or  hairs  are  to  be  woven 
together,  with  seven  and  seven  knots  tied  therein, 
and  during  the  knotting  an  incantation  is  to  be 
muttered  ;  the  strand 7  of  black  hair  is  then  to  be 
fastened  to  the  sick  eye,  and  the  white  one  to  the 
sound  eye.8  Or  in  another  case  (for  a  disease  of 
the  eyes  called  amurrikanu)  '  pure  strands  of  red 
wool,  which  by  the  pure  hand  of  .  .  .  have  been 
brought  .  .  .  bind  on  the  right  hand.'9  A  parallel 
to  the  untying  of  the  knots  in  the  modern  charms 
quoted  above  is  prescribed  in  one  of  the  Assyr. 
tablets  published  by  King  (Bab.  Magic  and  Sorcery, 
p.  58,  1.  99 ff.) ;  the  priest  must  say  over  the  sick 
man  '  Ea  hath  sent  me '  three  times,  and  then 
untie  the  knot  which  has  been  tied  ;  and  the  man 
must  go  home  without  looking  behind  him. 

We  may  now  for  the  moment  leave  the  magical 
side  of  the  physician's  art  for  the  more  scientific 
study  of  drugs  and  their  administration.  The 
efficacy  of  medicine  on  an  empty  stomach  was  well 
recognized  by  Assyrian  doctors,  and  the  prescrip- 
tions constantly  end  with  directions  for  such  a 
procedure : 

'  Bray  these  seven  plants  together,  and  put  them  in  fermented 

1  Ja'far  Sharif  and  Q.  A.  Herklots,  Qanoon-e-Islam,  Madras, 
1895,  p.  262. 

2  Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  p.  432  ;  see  also  p.  569. 

3  Merv  Oasis,  Lond.  1882,  ii.  319.  For  other  instances,  see 
Frazer,  ff£2  i.  397. 

4  Zimmern,  Beitrdge  zur  Kenntnis,  etc.,  p.  33. 

»  'fi'i.  Tablet  IX.  1.  74   (Thompson,  Devils,  ii.  71 ;    Semitic 
Magic,  166). 
«  'Folklore  of  Mossoul,'  PSBA,  1906,  p.  80. 

7  The  meaning  of  the  Assyrian  word  is  uncertain. 

8  WAI  iv.  29*,  4,  C.  i.  15. 

9  Haupt,  Akkad.  u.  sum.  Keilschrifttezte,  Leipzig,  1881-82, 
xi.  ii.  45. 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Assyro-Babylonian) 


746 


drink  ;  at  the  approach  of  the  star  in  the  morning  let  the  patient 
drink  them  without  eating,  and  he  will  recover.' * 
Not  only  this,  but  the  use  of  the  enema  also  was 
well  known,  the  directions  being  quite  explicit : 

'  An  enema  (&u£)  of  oil  thou  Shalt  make,  and  introduce  per 
anum."2 

For  stomachic  troubles  there  were  many  remedies. 
Pains  were  treated  with  a  mixture  of  'salt  of  the 
mountain '  and  amanu-sa.lt,  pounded  together  and 
put  in  fermented  liquor,  which  was  to  be  drunk  on 
an  empty  stomach,  used  also  as  an  enema,  and 
sprinkled  upon  the  patient;8  or  a  mixture  of  the 
nuhtirtu-\)la.nt  and  seven  corns  of  H-Si,  similarly  to 
be  used  as  a  draught  and  an  enema.4  As  a  simpler 
method,  the  patient  was  to  sit  on  his  haunches  and 
let  cold  water  flow  on  his  head  ;  °  or  the  physician 
was  to  lay  his  head  lower  than  his  feet,  and  knead 
or  stroke  the  back  gently,  repeating  the  formula  : 
'  It  shall  be  good.'  6  If  the  patient  have  colic  and 
his  stomach  will  not  retain  its  food,  and  there  is 
flatulence,  the  prescription  is  to  bray  up  together 
£  ka  of  date-juice,  £  ka  of  cassia  juice  with  oil  and 
wine,  three  shekels  of  purified  oil,  two  shekels  of 
honey,  and  ten  shekels  of  the  ammi-plant.  The 
patient  is  to  drink  this  before  the  rising  of  the 
Enzu-stax  in  the  morning,  without  eating ;  and 
then  this  is  to  be  followed  by  a  draught  and  an 
enema  of  £  ka  of  Sl-EA,  with  which  he  is  also  to 
be  sprinkled.7  If  there  are  internal  pains — the 
Assyrian  being  in  this  case,  '  When  a  man's  inside 
eats  him ' — he  is  to  be  given  haltappanu- plant  and 
salt  pounded  up  and  dissolved  in  water  or  fer- 
mented drink,  or  simply  haltappanu,  or  tiyatu,  or 
Sl-SI.  in  fermented  drink.8  When  the  patient's 
internal  organs  burn  and  he  is  constipated,  let  him 
drink  a  medicine  of  garlic  and  cummin,9  or  the 
pounded  rind  of  green  il  (a  plant)  mixed  with 
swine-fat.10  Remedies  are  prescribed  when  'gar- 
lic, leeks,  beef,  pork,  and  beer  are  unretained  by 
a  man,'  and  'in  his  belching  the  gall  is  with- 
held (?).'  n  For  what  the  Assyrian  doctor  describes 
as  '  the  food  being  returned  to  the  mouth '  the  head 
and  breast  were  to  be  bound  and  certain  drugs  eaten 
in  honey,  mutton  fat,  or  butter,  while  the  patient 
was  to  be  kept  oft'  certain  food  for  three  days,  and 
was  not  allowed  to  wash. B  For  liver  complaints, 
garlic  was  prescribed,18  or  cassia  drunk  in  beer, 
or  large  draughts  of  beer  or  'wine-water.14  In 
the  case  of  jaundice,  of  which  the  symptoms  are 
given  fully,  the  physicians  were  not  so  hopeful  of 
recovery ;  but  some  prescriptions  seem  to  have 
been  potent : 

*  When  a  man's  body  is  yellow,  his  face  is  yellow  and  black, 
the  root  of  his  tongue  black,  afrfyazu  ('  seizer ')  is  its  name ; 
thou  must  bake  great  wild  musdimgiiriniia,  he  shall  drink  it 
in  fermented  drink.  Then  will  the  afyfyazu  which  is  in  him  be 
silent.'16 

In  constipation,  the  patient  drank  a  mixture  of 
green  garlic  and  totkru-r'md  in  fermented  drink, 
Followed  by  dates  in  swine-fat  or  oil ;  or  another 
prescription  is  cypress-cones  pounded  up  and  mixed 
with  fermented  drink.  If,  in  addition  to  constipa- 
tion, '  his  inside  is  much  inflamed,'  the  prescription 
is  a  decoction  of  haltappanu-pl&nt,  sweet  reed, 
ballukku-plant,  and  cypress  administered  as  an 
enema.  An  enema  is  also  prescribed  when  a  man 
is  constipated  after  heavy  eating  and  drinking, 
and  his  inside  is  '  angry.' 16  In  the  case  of  drunken- 
ness, the  following  remedy  is  given  for  the  morning 
after  : 

1  Kiichler,  Beitr.  zur  Kenntnis  der  assyr.-bab.  Medizin,  p.  1, 
U.  2-3. 

2  lb.  p.  39,  1.  44.  S  lb.  p.  5,  1.  31. 

4  lb.  1.  32.  5  lb.  p.  3,  1.  13. 

6  lb.  11.  14-16.  There  are  some  other  points  in  this  prescrip- 
tion not  yet  intelligible. 

7/6.  1.26 ff.  8/6.  p.  6,  1.  Iff. 

9  lb.  p.  23,  11.  17-18.  1"  lb.  1.  19. 

"  lb.  p.  43,  11.  1-2.  12  lb.  p.  25,  11.  36-38. 

15  lb.  p.  43,  1.  14.  M  lb.  p.  53,  1.  70 ;  65,  1.  71. 

16  lb.  p.  61,  11.  26-27. 

18  lb.  p.  7,  U.  10-11,  15-16,  17-20. 


'  When  a  man  has  drunk  fermented  drink  and  his  head  aches 
and  he  forgets  his  speech,  and  in  speaking  is  incoherent,  and 
his  understanding  is  lost,  and  his  eyes  are  fixed,  bray  (eleven 
plants)  together  and  let  him  drink  them  in  oil  and  fermented 
drink  before  the  approach  of  Gula  in  the  morning  before  dawn, 
before  any  one  kisses  him.' * 

Venereal  diseases  are  prescribed  for  in  various 
tablets  ; 3  the  colour  of  the  urine  was  also  observed 
in  diagnosis.8 

It  is  curious  to  Bee  how  persistently  the  old  beliefs  survive 
among  the  Arabs  of  Mesopotamia  of  to-day.  Toothache  is  still 
attributed  to  a  worm,  and  the  writer  heard  this  story  on  good 
Mosul  authority,  that  a  man  with  toothache  had  only  to  fumi- 
gate his  aching  teeth  with  the  smoke  from  dried  withanifera 
(solanacece),  and  the  worm  would  drop  out  of  his  mouth.  This 
is  a  belief  not  confined  to  the  Arabs,  occurring,  as  it  does, 
among  other  peoples,4  and  it  certainly  dates  back  to  several 
centuries  B.C.,  for  we  find  a  Babylonian  tablet  describing  the 
genesis  of  this  tooth-worm  : 

'  After  Anu  [had  created  the  heavene], 
The  heavens  created  [the  earth], 
The  earth  created  the  rivers, 
The  rivers  created  the  canals, 
The  canals  created  the  marshes, 
The  marshes  created  the  Worm. 

The  Worm  came  and  wept  before  the  Sun-god, 
Before  Ea  came  her  plaint : 
"  What  wilt  thou  give  me  to  eat, 
What  wilt  thou  give  me  to  gnaw?" 
"  I  will  give  thee  ripe  figs, 
And  sweet-scented  .  .  .  -wood." 
"  What  are  your  ripe  figs  to  me, 
Or  your  sweet-scented  .  .  .  -wood  ? 
Let  me  drink  amid  the  teeth, 
And  let  me  rest  amid  the  gums  (?), 
Of  the  teeth  will  I  suck  the  blood, 
And  destroy  the  strength  (?)  of  their  gums  (?) ; 
So  shall  I  hold  the  bolt  of  the  door." 
"Since  thou  hast  said  this,  0  worm  1 
May  Ea  smite  thee  with  the  might  of  his  fist." ' 
The  incantation  prescribed  for  the  toothache  is  : 

'  Thou  shalt  do  this :  Mix  beer,  safci76ir-plant,  and  oil 
together.  Repeat  the  incantation  three  times  thereon,  and 
put  in  on  the  tooth.'5 

Just  in  the  same  way  as  the  tooth  has  a  semi- 
medical,  semi-magical  incantation  prescribed  for 
it,  so  do  we  find  similar  texts  for  the  heart  and 
eyes.  For  some  form  of  '  heart '  medicine  the 
following  incantation  is  given  : 

'  The  heart-plant  sprang  up  in  Makan,  and  the  Moon-god 
[rooted  it  out  and] 
[Planted  it  in  the  mountains] ;  the  Sun-god  brought  it  down 

from  the  mountains,  [and] 
[Planted  it  in]  the  earth  ;  its  root  filleth  the  earth,  its  horns 

stretch  out  to  heaven. 
[It  seized  on  the  heart  of  the  Sun-god  when]  he  .  .  . ;  it 

seized  on  the  heart  of  the  Moon-god  in  the  clouds, 
It  seized  on  the  heart  of  the  ox  in  the  stall, 
[It  seized  on  the  heart  of  the  goat]  in  the  fold, 
It  seized  on  the  heart  of  the  ass  in  the  stable, 
[It  seized  on  the  heart  of  the]  dog  in  the  kennel, 
It  seized  on  the  heart  of  the  pig  in  the  sty, 
[It  seized  on  the  heart  of  the]  man  in  his  pleasure, 
It  seized  on  the  heart  of  the  maid  in  her  sleeping-chamber, 
[It  seized  on  the  heart  of  N.],  son  of  N.  .  .  .'ti 
Magan  or  Makan  is  supposed  to  he  the  Sinaitic 
Peninsula,  and  it  is  there  that  the  Eyoscyamus 
muticus  grows.      The  Arabs  call  it  the  sakran 
('drunken'),  from  its  intoxicating  effect;  it  has 
long  spikes  very  much  like   the  fox-glove,  only 
purple  in  colour,  which  may  be  compared  with  the 
'  horns '  mentioned  in  the  incantation.     It  seems 
quite  possible  that  the  Assyrians  may  have  had  a 
knowledge  of  its  existence  and  properties  ;  at  any 
rate,   the    name    'heart-plant,'   coupled  with   its 
provenance,  Sinai,  another  description  given  of  it, 
is  suggestive. 

In  certain  cases  of  ophthalmia,  the  prescription 
is  carefully  led  up  to  by  a  description  of  the  cause 
of  the  blindness : 

'  The  eye  of  the  man  is  sick,  the  eye  of  the  woman  is  sick. 
The  eye  of  man  or  woman  is  sick — who  can  heal  (him)?  Thou 
shalt  send  them  to  bring  pure  KU-SA  of  the  date. palm  ;  chew 
(te-fri-pi)  it  in  thy  mouth,  twist  (te-pi-til)  it  in  thy  hand  :  thou 
shalt  bind  it  on  the  temples  of  the  man  or  woman,  and  the  man 
or  woman  shall  recover  .  .  .' 

1  Kiichler,  loc.  cit.  p.  33,  1.  51  fl. 

2  e.g.  Rm.  ii.  312  ;  cf.  Rm.  ii.  315.  3  S.  616. 
4Cf.  Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  v.  359. 

5  See  the  writer's  copy  in  Cun.  Texts  from.  Bab.  Tablets  1903, 
pt.  xvii.  pi.  50  (Thompson,  Devils,  ii.  160). 

6  Kiichler,  loc.  cit.  p.  9. 


746 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Assyro-Babylonian) 


'  The  wind  blew  in  heaven  and  bre-uylit  blindness  (sirrnne)  to  the 
eye  of  the  man  :  from  the  distant  heavens  it  blew  and  brought 
blindness  to  the  eye  of  the  man  ;  unto  sick  eyes  it  brought 
blindness.  The  eye  of  this  man  troubleth ;  his  eye  is  hurt  (?) 
(a-Ha-a) ;  this  man  weepeth  for  himself  grievously.  Naru 
hath  seen  the  sickness  of  this  man,  and  (hath  said),  "Take 
pounded  cassia,  perform  the  Incantation  of  the  Deep,  and  bind 
up  the  eye  of  the  sick  man."  When  Naru  toucheth  the  eye  of 
the  man  with  her  pure  hand,  may  the  wind  which  hath  afflicted 
the  eye  of  the  man  go  forth  from  his  eyes  I '  * 
Similarly,  the  sting  of  a  scorpion  is  treated  with 
an  incantation  against  the  poisonous  creature,  to 
be  recited  while  anointing  the  hurt : 

*  Her  horns  stretch  out  like  those  of  a  wild  bull,2 
Her  tail  curls  like  that  of  a  mighty  lion, 
Bel  hath  made  a  house— when  he  maketh  fast  the 

enclosure, 
When  he  breaketh  the  wall  of  lapis-Iazuli, 
May  the  little  finger  of  Bel  carry  it  off, 
May  it  carry  off  the  water  .  .  .  (i.e.  collected  by  the 
inflammation)  1 ' 3 
It  is  a  little   uncertain   what  the  text  actually 
means,  but  it  seems  as  if  the  patient  puts  the 
scorpion  in  the  model  of  a  bouse,  which  Bel  is 
supposed  to  have  made,  and,  after  fastening  the 
door,  he  takes  it  out  with  his  little  finger  by  a  hole 
in  the  wall. 

Another  prescription  for  scorpion-sting  is  to  mix 
in  oil  of  cedar  various  substances  that  have  been 
brayed  up,  and  anoint  the  wound.4  For  snake- 
bite the  wounded  man  was  to  peel  willow  root  and 
eat  it,  or  drink  a  potion  of  &I-&I  plant  in  fermented 
liquor.8 

The  '  Baghdad  boil,'  or  '  Mosul  button,'  was 
apparently  as  troublesome  in  ancient  times  as  it  is 
to-day.  A  tablet  exists  in  the  British  Museum, 
giving  the  omens  for  what  follows  from  the 
'  button  '  appearing  on  certain  parts  of  the  body.6 
A  case  of  the  boil  appears  to  be  referred  to  in  an 
astrological  report  to  the  king  of  Assyria  : 

'  Concerning  this  evil  of  the  skin,  the  King,  my  lord,  hath  not 
spoken  from  his  heart.    The  sickness  lasts  a  year :  people  that 
are  sick  all  recover.' 7 
The  boil  is  popularly  supposed  to  last  for  a  year. 

Prescriptions  are  found  for  diseases  of  all  parts  of  the  body  : 
the  tongue  and  lips  8  (K.  9438),  the  nails  and  fingers  (K.  10464), 
the  hands  and  feet  (If.  9156),  or  the  neck  (K.  3687) ;  '  if  a  man's 
ears  "  sing  "  '  iisagguma)  (K.  9059) ;  '  if  a  man's  breast  and 
MAS' -KApl  hurt  him  '  (K.  10726) ;  '  when  a  man  has  palpitation 
(?sirifctt)  of  the  heart  and  his  heart  .  .  .  [holds)  flre(?)'  (K. 
8760).  If  a  man's  left  side  hurts  him  (usammamHu),  then  '  water 
and  oil,  heaven  and  earth — Incantation,  repeat  Beven  times  and 

rub   (tumaSSa;  Arab.    f~*-<)   his  left  side,  and  repeat  the 

following  incantation  over  his  side  and  he  will  recover' 
(K.  8449).  Two  tablets  (KK.  2413  and  11617)  give  rites  and 
ceremonies  for  a  woman  during  pregnancy.  (On  stones  used 
for  conception,  see  Oefele,  ZA  xiv.  356,  and  compare  the 
Hebrew  'stones  of  preservation '  against  miscarriage  called 
HDlpn  J3N.)  There  is  a  long  series  called  by  its  first  line, 
'  When  a  man's  brain  holds  fire,'  in  which  the  various  symptoms 
are  carefully  described,  such  as  neuralgia  of  the  temples,  blood- 
ehot  and  weeping  eyes,  etc.  (see  the  present  writer's  tr.  in 
AJSL,  Oct.  1907).  The  following  are  specimens  (Tablet  ii. 
K.  2611,  col.  ii.  1.  8ff.;  Cun.  Texts  from  Bab.  Tablets,  1906,  vol. 
xxiii.  p.  43)  :  '  When  a  man's  right  temple  hurts  him  and  his  right 
eye  is  Bwollen  and  weeps  tears,  it  is  the  hand  of  a  ghost  or  the 
hatred  of  a  goddess  against  (or  for)  his  life  ;  mix  sibu-(tree), 
arganu-(tree),  oariratii-(tree),  one  shekel  of  "  river-foam, "dilbat- 
plant,  ginger  (?)  in  ground  meal,  steep  it  in  beer  (and)  bind  on 
as  a  poultice.'  Similarly,  when  the  left  temple  and  eye  are 
afflicted  (col.  iii.  1.  1),  the  physician  roust  bray  together  dates 
from  Dilmun,  thyme,  and  cedar-sap  in  oil  of  gir,  and  apply 
thern^  before  the  patient  breaks  his  fast.  If  the  patient,  in 
addition  to  the  neuralgia,  vomits,  and  his  eyes  are  inflamed,  it 
is  the  '  hand  of  a  ghost,'  and  the  remedy  is  to  calcine  human 
bones  and  bray  them,  and  then  rub  them  on  the  place  with  oil 
of  cedar  (1.  5). 
These  instances  might  be   multiplied,  even  from  the  texts 


1  WAIw.  29",  4,  0.  ii.Sff. 

2  The  translation  of  the  rirsl  line  preceding  this  is  uncertain. 
The  last  line,  which  has  been  omitted  here,  runs  (according  to 
the  copy  in  Bezold's  Catalogue  of  the  Eouyunjik  Collection), 
'  May  he  smite  a  great  flst  upon  the  man  (?)  1 ' 

3  Em.  ii.  149.  4  K.  7845.  «  S.  1357. 
u  Virolleaud,  Babyhniaca,  Paris,  1906,  i.  91. 

'  See  the  writer's  Reports  pf  the  Magicians  and  Astrologers, 
Lond.  1900,  no.  257. 

8  Something  equivalent  to  unilateral  paralysis  appears  to  be 
mentioned  on  the  tablet  Rm.  ii.  143  :  '  When  a  man's  lip  kuppul 
to  the  right  and  he  [cannot]  speak.'  Kuppul  is  perhaps  to  be 
referred  to  the  Hebrew  root  ^SD,  '  to  double.' 


which  are  already  published ;  but  there  are  many  tablets  on  this 
subject  in  the  British  Museum  which  still  remain  to  be  copied. 
When  this  is  done,  it  will  be  possible  to  speak  with  less  uncer- 
tainty about  the  methods  employed  by  the  Assyrian  physicians. 
Hitherto  nothing  has  been  found  in  the  cuneiform 
texts  to  confirm  the  statement  of  Herodotus  (i.  197) 
that  the  Babylonians  were  wont  to  bring  sick  folk 
into  the  market-place  for  the  advice  of  any  that 
might  suggest  a  remedy.  Both  the  magical  and 
the  medical  series  go  far  to  show  that  the  pro- 
fession of  medicine  was  well  organized  and  sys- 
tematic, although  it  may  well  have  been  that  the 
poorer  folk  did  what  Herodotus  relates ;  but, 
again,  if  any  comparison  can  be  made  between 
ancient  and  modern  Semites  in  this  respect,  the 
deformed,  maim,  halt,  and  blind  were  probably  to 
be  found  in  the  suk  of  every  town  begging  alms  of 
every  passer-by,  and  this  perhaps  is  what  Hero- 
dotus saw.  The  profession  of  the  doctor  carried 
with  it  grave  responsibilities,  even  as  far  back  as 
the  time  of  Hammurabi.  One  has  only  to  read 
the  list  of  fines  to  which  a  surgeon  was  liable  if 
he  accidentally  inflicted  unnecessary  damage  on  a 
patient  in  treating  him. 

The  more  human  side  of  the  healing  art  is  shown 
in  the  cuneiform  correspondence.  Several  letters 
from  the  physician  Arad-Nana  relating  to  his 
patients  are  extant,  dating  from  the  7th  cent. 
B.C.,  and,  inasmuch  as  he  is  writing  to  the  king 
in  every  case,  we  may  presume  that  he  is  the 
Court  physician  whom  the  king  has  in  these 
instances  allowed  to  visit  certain  of  his  stati'. 
That  this  may  well  be  so  is  shown  by  an  astro- 
logical letter  (No.  18  of  the  writer's  Reports  of  the 
Magicians  and  Astrologers),  which,  in  addition  to 
giving  the  formal  report,  adds,  '  Bel-epus,  the 
Babylonian  magician,  is  very  ill ;  let  the  King 
command  that  a  physician  come  and  see  -him.' 
The  following  specimens  will  throw  some  light  on 
the  professional  skill  of  Arad-Nana  (we  append 
Johnston's  translations,  J  A  OS  xviii.  162  ff.,  which 
are  the  best  that  can  at  present  be  made  of  a  most 
difficult  subject) : 

'To  the  King,  my  lord,  thy  servant,  Arad-Nana.  A  hearty 
greeting  to  the  King,  my  lord  !  May  Adar  and  Gula  grant 
health  of  mind  and  body  to  the  King,  my  lord  !  All  goes  well 
in  regard  to  that  poor  fellow  whose  eyes  are  diseased.  I  had 
applied  a  dressing  covering  his  face.  Yesterday,  towards 
evening,  undoing  the  bandage  which  held  it  (in  place),  I 
removed  the  dressing.  There  was  pus  upon  the  dressing  about 
the  size  of  the  tip  of  the  little  finger.  If  any  of  thy  gods  has 
put  his  hand  to  the  matter,  that  (god)  must  surely  have  given 
express  commands.  All  is  well.  Let  the  heart  of  my  lord  the 
king  be  of  good  cheer  I  Within  seven  or  eight  days  he  will  be 
well '  (S.  1064  ;  see  Harper,  Assyr.  and  Bab.  Letters,  Lond.  1909, 
no.  392). 

Similarly  in  K.  519  :  '  With  regard  to  the  patient  who  has  a 
bleeding  from  his  nose,  the  Ra.b-MUG1  reports :  "Yesterday, 
towards  evening,  there  was  much  haemorrhage."  These  dress- 
ings are  not  scientifically  applied.  They  are  placed  upon  the 
alaa  of  the  nose,  oppress  the  nose,  and  come  off  when  there  is 
haemorrhage.  Let  them  be  placed  within  the  nostrils,  and  then 
the  air  will  be  kept  away,  and  the  haemorrhage  restrained.  If  it 
is  agreeable  to  my  lord,  the  King,  I  will  go  to-morrow  and  give 
instructions;  (in  the  meantime)  let  me  hear  how  he  does' 
(Harper,  no.  108). 

As  an  example  of  death  from  a  wound,  an  inci- 
dent related  in  a  late  Bab.  letter  (c.  400[?]  B.C.)  is 
worth  quoting,  although  the  translation  of  some  of 
the  words  is  not  certain. 

'.  .  .  In  a  brawl  (?)  I  heard  that  [So-and-so,  whom]  the 
noble  (?)  smote,  when  he  was  smitten  fell  sick  of  a  suppura- 
tion (?).  He  did  not  understand  it,  (and)  it  enlarged  and  spread, 
so  that  he  died  therefrom.' !    ■ 

It  is  clear,  therefore,  from  the  texts  which  we 
possess,  that  Assyrian  medicine  was  worthy  of 
being  held  in  high  repute,  and,  although  its  trend 
towards  magic  detracts  much  from  its  science,  it 
was  probably  a  worthy  forerunner  of  the  methods 
in  vogue  during  the  Middle  Ages. 

Literature. — F.  Lenormant,  La  Magie  chez  les  Chaldiens, 
Paris,  1874  (Eng.  tr.  Chaldean  Magic,  1878);  A.  H.  Sayce, 
Hibbert   Lectures,  London,  1SS7,  Religions  of  Ancient  Egypt 


1  See  the  present  writer's   Late  Babylonian  Letters,  Lond. 
190G,  no.  114. 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Celtic) 


747 


and  Babylonia,  Edinburgh,  1902;  L.  W.  King,  Babylonian 
Magic  and  Sorcery,  London,  1896 ;  H.  Zimmern,  Beitrdge  zur 
Kenntnis  der  bub.  Religion,  Leipzig,  1896-1901 ;  C.  Fossey, 
La  Magie  assyr.,  Paris,  1902 ;  Oefele,  '  Materialen  zur  Bear- 
beitung  bab.  Medizin,'  1902,  etc.  ( Vorderasiatische  Gesellschaft, 
vi.  etc.) ;  F.  Kiichler,  Beitrdge  zur  Kenntnis  der  assyr.-bab. 
Medizin,  Leipzig,  1904  ;  M.  Jastrow,  Religion  of  Babylonia  and 
Assyria,  Boston,  1898  (Die  Religion  Babploniens  und  Assyriens, 
1902  ft.);  R.  C.  Thompson,  i'he  Devils  and  Evil  Spirits  of 
Babylonia,  London,  1903-4,  Semitic  Magic,  London,  1908. 

K.  Campbell  Thompson. 

DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Celtic).— The 
classic  authority  is  the  statement  of  Caesar  in  his 
Gallic  War.  The  terror  of  disease,  and  the  art  and 
science  of  healing,  came  within  the  sphere  of  re- 
ligion among  the  Celts.  The  nation  was  religious  : 
'  Katie  est  omnis  Gallorum  admodum  dedita  re- 
ligionibus.'  All  matters  connected  with  religion 
were  submitted  to  the  judgment  of  the  Druids. 
They  were  the  '  medicine-men '  as  well  as  the 
teachers  and  the  priests  of  the  Celts :  '  atque  ob 
earn  causam,  qui  sunt  afl'ecti  gravioribus  morbis 
.  .  .  aut  pro  victimis  homines  immolant,  aut  se 
immolaturos  vovent,  administrisque  ad  ea  sacrificia 
Druidibus  utuntur.'  The  principle  of  life  for  life 
was  recognized  (cf.  art.  Blood -Feud  [Celtic], 
vol.  ii.  p.  725)  :  'quod,  pro  vita  hominis  nisi 
hominis  vita  reddatur,  non  posse  aliter  Deorum 
immortalium  numen  placari  arbitrantur '  (de  Bell- 
Gall,  vi.  16). 

I.  Gods  of  medicine.— The  God  of  healing  is 
identified  by  Caesar  with  Apollo,  who  held  the 
place  of  honour  next  to  Mercury :  '  post  hunc, 
Apollinem  et  Marteni  et  Jovem  et  Minervam.  De 
his  eandem  fere,  quam  reliquae  gentes,  habent 
opinionem  :  Apollinem  morbos  depellere  .  .  . '  (ib. 
vi.  17).  The  Druidic  doctrine  of  immortality  em- 
phasized the  value  of  life  and  health,  and  gave 
Apollo  at  this  period  a  higher  position  than  Mars. 
'  regit  idem  spiritus  artus 
Orbe  alio  ;  longae  (canitis  si  cognita)  vitae 
Mors  media  est'  (Lucan.  Pluirs.  i.  456  ff.). 
Several  Celtic  deities  of  healing  have  been  iden- 
tified with  Apollo.  One  appears  as  a  presiding 
deity  of  healing  springs  and  health  resorts.  The 
name  occurs  sometimes  on  inscriptions  as  Borvo  : 
'  Deo  Apollini  Borvoni  et  Damonae '  (at  Bourbonne- 
les-Bains  in  the  Haute-Marne).  Other  forms  are 
Bormo,  in  Central  France,  Borrnanus  in  Provence, 
Bormanicus  in  Spain.  This  deity  is  associated 
sometimes  with  Damona,  as  at  Bourbonne-les- 
Bains  and  Bourbon-Lancy  in  Sa6ne-et-Loire  ;  some- 
times with  Bormana,  as  at  Aix-en-Diois  in  the 
Dr6me.  The  word  is  akin  to  the  Welsh  berwi, 
'  boiL'  and  has  reference  to  the  hot  springs  (Rhys, 
Celtic  Heathendom,  p.  '25  f.  ;  Anwyl,  Celtic  Re- 
ligion, p.  40). 

Another  deity  was  Grannos.  In  an  inscription 
at  Horberg  in  the  Haut-Rhin,  he  is  called  '  Apollo 
Grannos  Mogounos. '  The  name  Grannos  has  Deen 
connected  with  the  Skr.  word  gliar,  '  glow,' '  burn,' 
'shine.'  It  is  considered  equivalent  to  the  '  Pos- 
phorus '  of  the  Dacian  inscription  :  '  Deus  Bonus 
Puer  Posphorus  Apollo  Pythius.'  Apollo,  the  dis- 
penser of  light  and  warmth,  was  regarded  as  the 
repeller  of  disease.  The  name  is  associated  with 
several  hot  springs.  The  old  name  of  Aix-la- 
Chapelle,  or  Aachen,  was  Aqv.ce  Granni.  In- 
scriptions to  him  have  been  found  at  Graux  in 
the  Vosges  and  at  Granheim  near  Mengen  in  Wiirt- 
temberg.  The  stream  which  receives  the  hot 
waters  of  Plombieres  in  the  Vosges  is  called  Eaux 
Graunnes.  Grannos  was  identified  with  Asklepios 
and  Serapis  by  Caracalla  (Dio  Cassius,  lxxvii.  15). 
The  other  name  Mogounos  in  the  Horberg  in- 
scription appears  in  the  old  name  of  Mainz, 
Moguntiacum.  The  word  Mogounos  points  to  the 
bonus  puer  of  the  Dacian  inscription  (Khys,  op. 
cit.  p.  22). 

The  name  Maponos  occurs  in  inscriptions  in  the 


north  of  England.  The  Armthwaite  inscription 
reads :  '  Deo  Maponi '  (Man.  Hist.  Brit.  Inscr. 
121).  It  is  the  old  Welsh  mapon,  now  nxabon, 
'boy'  or  'male  child.'  The  name  is  therefore 
identical  in  meaning  with  the  bonus  puer  of  the 
Dacian  inscription  from  Carlsburg  in  Transylvania. 
The  witness  to  the  Celtic  god  of  healing  stretches 
across  Europe  along  the  line  of  the  Celtic  advance 
(Khys,  p.  21).  The  memory  of  Grannos  is  still 
preserved  in  the  Auvergne  at  the  Festival  of  the 
Brands  on  the  first  Sunday  in  Lent.  Fires  are 
lighted  in  every  village.  The  ceremony  of  the 
Grannasmias  takes  place  after  a  dance  round  the 
fire.  A  torch  of  straw  called  granno-mio  is  lighted 
at  the  fire,  and  carried  round  the  orchards.  The 
old  Gaulish  deity,  in  his  aspect  as  the  sun-god,  is 
invoked  with  song : 

'  Granno,  mo  mio  ! 
Granno,  mon  pouere  1 
Granno,  mo  mouere  ! ' 
( '  Granno,   my  friend   .   .    .   my   father  .   .   .   my 
mother  !').     It  is  considered  by  Pommerol  to  be  a 
survival  of  solar  worship,  and  the  rite  illustrates 
Khys's  derivation  of  the  name  (A  ntiguary,  xxx viii. 
[1902]  80). 

An  altar  found  near  Annecy  is  dedicated  to  a 
deity  Virotutes  or  Virotus  :  '  Apollini  Virotuti. ' 
Rhys  tentatively  suggests  that  the  word  may  be 
compounded  of  a  Gaulish  equivalent  for  vir  and 
tutor,  and  may  mean  'man-healing'  or  'man- 
protecting'  (op.  cit.  p.  21). 

A  bas-relief  at  Munich  represents  Apollo  Grannos 
associated  with  Sirona.  Sirona  is  connected  with 
the  Irish  sir,  'long.'  The  two  deities  represent 
the  ever  young  sun-god  and  the  old  goddess,  and 
may  be  compared  with  Apollo  and  his  mother 
Leto  in  Greek  mythology.  The  hero  Mabon  mab 
Modron  of  the  story  of  Kulhwch  and  Olwen  is 
probably  the  same  deity,  Maponos.  Mabon 
and  Modron  are  suspected  of  being  the  exact 
equivalents  of  Grannos  and  Sirona  (Rhys,  p.  29). 
An  inscription  from  Wiesbaden  reads :  '  Apollini 
Toutiorigi.'  The  name  Toutiorix  means  'king  of 
the  people,'  and  expresses  the  same  thought  as  the 
title  a.pxvy6rvs  given  to  Apollo  as  '  leader,  in  Greek 
mythology.  The  name  appears  transmuted  and 
transformed  in  Theodoric,  and  the  mythical  legends 
associated  with  Dietrich  of  Bern  belong  more  to 
Toutiorix  than  to  the  historical  Theodoric  the 
Ostrogoth  (Rhys,  p.  30). 

The  Brigit  triad  in  Irish  mythology  holds  a  place 
of  honour  among  the  Celtic  gods  of  medicine.  The 
Irish  god,  the  Dagda,  had  three  daughters — Brigit, 
the  poetess  and  seer,  worshipped  by  the  poets  of 
ancient  Erinn ;  Brigit,  the  patroness  of  healing ; 
and  Brigit,  the  patroness  of  smiths.  This  points  to 
a  Goidelic  goddess,  Brigit,  who  corresponded  to  the 
Minerva  of  whom  Csesar  says,  '  Minervam  operum 
atque  artificiorum  initia  tradere '  (op.  cit.  vi.  17). 
She  has  also  been  identified  with  the  Brigantia  of 
the  inscriptions,  from  whom  the  Brigantes  took  their 
name  (Rhys,  p.  74).  Brigit  has  also  the  attributes 
of  the  ancient  goddess  of  fire  (Whitley  Stokes, 
Mart,  of  Oengus,  p.  1).  The  hymns  in  honour  of  St. 
Brigid  and  the  legends  attaching  to  her  name  sug- 
gest that  she  has  stepped  into  the  place  occupied  by 
the  Brigit  of  Irish  mythology.  In  the  hymn  Brigit 
be  bithtnaith,  she  is  addressed  as  'flame  golden, 
sparkling '  (line  2),  and  asked  to  guard  against 
disease :  '  May  she  win  for  us  battles  over  every 
disease!'  (Irish  Liber  Hymnorum,  H.  Bradshaw 
Soc,  1897,  ii.  39).  In  the  story  of  the  visit  of  the 
three  disciples  of  Brigid  to  Blasantia  (Piacenza), 
they  are  preserved  from  the  effects  of  a  drink  of 
poisoned  ale  by  reciting  this  hymn  (ib.  ii.  37).  The 
story  illustrates  not  only  the  healing  craft  of  Brigid, 
but  the  memory  of  her  ancient  fame  among  the  Celts 
of  Italy.     It  is  perhaps  due  to  the  same  tradition  of 


748 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Celtic) 


Celtic  heathenism  that  as  late  as  the  middle  of  the 
18th  cent,  human  blood  was  considered  in  Italy  to 
be  a  cure  for  apoplexy  {Antiquary,  xxxviii.  205). 

The  '  cauldron  of  renovation '  is  represented  as  a 
talisman  of  healing  in  the  Welsh  story  of  Branwen, 
the  daughter  of  Llyr :  '  The  Irish  Kindled  a  fire 
under  the  cauldron  of  renovation,  and  they  cast 
the  dead  bodies  into  the  cauldron  until  it  was  full, 
and  the  next  day  they  came  forth  fighting-men  as 
good  as  before,  except  that  they  were  not  able  to 
speak'  (Mabinogion,  ed.  A.  Nutt,  p.  39).  This 
cauldron  of  regeneration  had  been  brought  up  out 
of  a  lake  in  Ireland  and  given  to  Bran,  son  of  Llyr 
(ib.  p.  31).  It  is  equivalent  to  the  cauldron  of  the 
Dagda  in  Irish  legend,  one  of  the  treasures  of  the 
Tuatha  De  Danann.  It  was  called  the  'undry' 
cauldron,  for  it  was  never  empty  (Rhys,  p.  256  f.). 
It  was  brought  from  the  mythical  Murias,  some 
place  beneath  the  sea.  The  fire  beneath  the  caul- 
dron was  fed  by  nine  maidens  (ib.  p.  373).  In  the 
Taliessin  verses  of  the  Mabinogion  it  is  represented 
as  the  cauldron  of  sciences,  from  which  Gwion  re- 
ceived three  drops.  It  is  with  this  cauldron  that 
Caridwen  was  associated  (Mabinog.  pp.  295,  307). 
In  the  early  tales  underlying  the  Quest  of  the 
Holy  Grail  the  healing  qualities-  of  the  Grail  or 
Cauldron  rather  than  its  gift  of  fertility  may  have 
been  emphasized  (A.  Nutt,  Studies  in  the  Legend 
of  the  Holy  Grail,  London,  1888,  p.  57). 

2.  Diseases  and  their  cure. — Among  the  diseases 
which  have  left  a  lasting  impression  on  Celtic 
tradition  is  the  buidechar,  'yellow  plague.'  It  is 
probable  that  it  was  the  occasion  of  the  composi- 
tion of  the  Lorica  of  Gildas  -. 

'  ut  non  secum  trahat  me  mortalitas 
hujus  anni  neque  mundi  vanitas.' 
The  first  outbreak  of  this  disease  was  in  547 
(Irish  Lib.  Hymn.  i.  206,  ii.  243).  Ireland  was 
especially  subject  to  it  in  the  7th  century.  The 
hymn  Sen  Di  of  Colman  was  written  against  it. 
'  Colman  mac  Ui  Cluasaig,  a  scholar  from  Cork, 
made  this  hymn  to  save  himseli  from  the  Yellow 
Plague'  (ib.  ii.  12).  Gillies  (Gaelic  Names  of 
Diseases,  pp.  10,  23)  states  thaf:  he  is  unable  to 
identify  it.  It  could  scarcely  be  yellow  fever  :  '  pro- 
bably it  was  typhoid,  or  perhaps-  typhus  under  its 
known  aspect  of  bilious  fever.' 

Much  of  the  folk-lore  of  disease  may  be  traced 
back  to  the  magic  and  medicine  of  Celtic  heathen- 
dom. The  healing  powers  of  the  ash-tree,  whether 
the  true  ash  or  the  mountain  ash,  are  to  be  attri- 
buted to  its  association  with  ancient  Celtic  and 
Norse  deities.  In  a  Leicestershire  wart-charm  it 
is  addressed : 

'  Ashen-tree,  Ashen-tree, 
Pray  buy  these  warts  of  me.' 
The  '  shrew  ash '  in  Richmond  Park  recalls  an  old 
cure  for  lameness  and  cramp  in  cattle  by  boring  a 
hole  and  enclosing  a  live  shrew-mouse  in  the  tree. 
In  this  there  is  an  echo  of  the  ancient  magic  of 
exchange  or  transference  of  disease.  In  the  case 
of  the  wart-charm,  a  pin  is  stuck  in  the  tree,  then 
in  the  wart,  finally  in  the  tree  again  (Antiquary, 
xlii.  [1906]  423).  A  curious  example  of  the  practice 
of  exchange  of  disease  occurs  in  tb<*  Martyrology 
of  Oengus  : 

'  Fursa  once  happened  to  visit  Maignenn  a"  Kilmainham,  and 
they  make  their  union  and  exchange  their  troubles  in  token  of 
their  union,  to  wit,  the  headache  or  piles  from  which  Fursa 
suffered  to  be  on  Maignenn,  and  the  reptile  Ihat  was  in  Maig- 
nean  to  enter  Fursa  '  {Mart.  Oeng.,  ed.  Whitle;*  Stokes,  p.  45). 

The  first  of  August  was  dedicatee"  to  Lug,  the 
Sun-hero.  This  festival,  known  in  Wales  as  Givyl 
Awst,  was  transferred  in  Brecknockshire  to  the 
first  Sunday  in  Augus.t.  Early  in  the  morning  a 
visit  was  paid  to  the  Little  Van  Lake  in  the 
Beacons,  to  greet  the  expected  appearance  of  the 
Lady  of  the  Lake.  She  has  been  regarded  as  a 
goddess  of  the  dawn,  who  returned  at  times  to 


converse  with  her  children.  The  eldest  of  them 
was  named  Rhiwallon,  and  had  been  instructed  by 
her  in  the  virtues  of  herbs.  He  was  the  founder 
of  a  family  of  physicians  in  South  Wales.  The 
physicians  of  Myddvai,  as  they  were  called,  were 
attached  to  the  house  of  Dynevor.  Their  ancestor 
was  of  mythical  descent,  and  may  be  identified  in 
the  Triads  with  Rhiwallon  of  the  broom  (yellow) 
hair.  He  was  thus  invested  with  a  solar  cbaracter 
(Rhys,  p.  423). 

Folk-medicine  consists  partly  in  charms,  partly 
in  superstition,  partly  in  a  real  knowledge  of 
herbs.  It  rests  ultimately  on  the  religious  ideas  of 
Celtic  heathenism.  Witchcraft  and  medicine  were 
different  aspects  of  Celtic  priestcraft  in  its  better 
sense.  The  priests,  if  they  were  the  sorcerers  and 
wizards  of  their  people,  were  their  healers  also. 

Among  the  plants  and  herbs  associated  with 
Celtic  medicine,  the  mistletoe  takes  the  first  rank. 
It  was  the  sacred  bough  of  the  Druids,  the  gift  of 
the  Divine  oak-tree,  the  gift  of  the  Celtic  Zeus 
himself.  The  Celtic  Zeus  was  '  the  Blazer  of  the 
mountain-top,'  and  the  great  stone-circles  mark 
the  sites  sacred  to  him.  A  story  of  the  Irish  hero 
Diarmaid  makes  mention  of  the  tree,  the  well,  the 
pillar-stone,  and  the  stone-circle  consecrated  to 
the  Celtic  Zeus. 

'  He  saw,  right  before  him,  a  great  tree  laden  with  fruit.  .  .  . 
It  was  surrounded  at  a  little  distance  by  a  circle  of  pillar- 
stones  ;  and  one  stone,  taller  than  the  others,  stood  in  the 
centre  near  the  tree.  Beside  this  pillar-stone  was  a"  spring- 
well,  with  a  large  round  pool  as  clear  as  crystal '  (Rhys,  p.  1S8). 

These  sanctuaries  in  ancient  days  were  places  of 
healing,  as  well  as  places  of  worship.  In  the 
Tripartite  Life  of  St.  Patrick  the  idol  of  Cenn 
Cruaich,  covered  with  gold  and  silver,  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  circle  of  twelve  other  idols,  covered 
with  brass.  Even  in  the  7th  cent,  these  had  nearly 
disappeared.  They  represent  the  primitive  pagan 
sanctuary  of  the  Goidels.  The  name  Cenn  Cruaich, 
'  Head  or  Chief  of  the  Mound,'  when  transmuted 
from  Goidelic  to  Brythonic,  re-appears  in  the  old 
place-name  Pennocrucium  on  the  Watling  Street. 
The  site  is  at  Stretton,  not  far  from  its  modern 
representative  Penkridge  in  Staffordshire  (Rhys, 
p.  203 ;  North  Staff.  Field  Club  Transactions,  vol. 
xlii.  pp.  116-118). 

The  mistletoe,  the  gift  of  the  Celtic  Zeus,  was 
the  all-healer  (olliach:  'omnia  sanans'  [Pliny, 
HN  xvi.  95]).  It  was  cut  at  a  New  Year  Festival 
with  peculiar  ceremony — a  priest  in  white,  a  golden 
sickle,  two  white  oxen.  'The  oxen  were  sacri- 
ficed, the  sacrificial  meal  followed.  The  mistletoe 
had  great  life-giving  powers.  It  healed  unfruit- 
fulness  in  man  and  beast,  and  was  a  protection 
against  poison '  (Grupp,  Kultur  der  alt.  Kelten  u. 
Germanen,  p.  149). 

Another  plant  mentioned  by  Pliny  is  the  Selago, 
which  has  been  identified  with  the  Savin-tree,  a 
species  of  juniper,  and  with  the  club-moss.  It  had 
to  be  plucked  stealthily.  Bread  and  wine  were 
offered,  and  the  priest  with  bare  feet  and  white 
robe  drew  near,  and,  putting  his  right  hand  through 
the  left  fold  of  his  tunic,  gathered  it  without  using 
a  knife.  Like  the  mistletoe,  it  was  then  placed 
on  a  white  cloth.  For  healing  purposes  the  plant 
was  burnt,  and  the  fumes  were  regarded  as  bene- 
ficial for  the  eye  (Grupp,  op.  cit.  p.  150). 

A  similar  ceremony  was  followed  at  the  gathering 
of  the  samolus,  whether  the  brook-weed  (Samolus 
valerandi)  or  the  watercress.  It  was  gathered 
fasting,  with  the  left  hand,  and  with  averted  face. 
The  centaury  was  also  used  as  a  cure  (Grupp, 
p.  151).  The  St.  John's  wort  and  other  plants 
were  burnt  or  hung  over  the  door  to  keep  off 
disease.  The  St.  John's  wort  (Hypericum  per- 
foliatum)  is  known  as  chasse-diable. 

Inscriptions  and  folk-lore  have  preserved  the  traditions  of 
the  gods  of  healing  and  the  healing  craft  among  the  Celts. 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Egyptian) 


749 


The  deities  honoured  in  different  localities  would  have  their 
own  peculiar  rites,  their  own  special  gifts.  Juvavius  was  a 
deity  who  gave  his  name  to  Salzburg.  Alaunus  also  occurs  in 
certain  place-names.  Some  of  the  goddesses  had  healing  power. 
Slanna  waB  the  companion  of  Apollo  Stannus.  Minerva  Belisama 
and  Sulevia  were  associated  with  Apollo  Belenus.  Alauna  was 
the  consort  of  Alaunus  (Grupp,  pp.  159-162).  There  is  still 
much  to  do  in  grouping  together  the  facts  preserved  in  the 
folk-lore  of  herbs  ana  healing,  with  a  view  to  learning  more  of 
the  ancient  cult  of  the  local  gods  of  medicine. 

The  folk-lore  of  Ireland  is  rich  in  its  memories 
of  old-time  medicine.  Diancecht,  a  member  of  the 
Tuatha  De  Danann,  may  almost  be  regarded  as  the 
Irish  god  of  medicine  (of.  CELTS,  iii.  285a).  _  A 
magic  cauldron  of  renovation  was  ascribed  to  him. 
The  methods  of  the  Irish  witch-doctors  still  form 
part  of  the  home  medicine  in  country  districts  to- 
day. Snails  pounded  in  salt  were  prescribed  as  a 
dressing  in  an  Irish  MS  of  1450.  They  were  still 
used  for  that  purpose  in  Staffordshire  at  the  close 
of  the  19th  century.  Urine  was  in  common  use  for 
eye-disease  and  jaundice  ;  dung  was  prescribed  by 
Wesley  in  his  Primitive  Physic.  In  Ireland,  as 
in  England,  these  remedies  were  administered,  to 
the  recitation  of  certain  charms  (Wood-Martin, 
Elder  Faiths,  London,  1902,  ii.  160-205).  The  rag- 
offerings  tied  to  trees  and  bushes  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  holy  wells  are  still  met  with  in 
many  parts  of  Ireland,  especially  in  the  west. 
They  aie  thought  by  some  to  have  a  reference  to 
the  transference  of  disease  to  the  tree-spirit  (ib. 
ii.  84).  Saliva  was  also  in  use  as  a  salve.  A  part 
of  the  cure  of  epilepsy  in  1450  was  the  burying  of 
a  young  cock  alive  (ib.  188). 

A  more  normal  system  of  healing  is  traceable  in 
the  Irish  sweat-houses,  which  were  in  use  as  a  hot- 
air  cure  until  the  19th  century.  These  sweat- 
houses  were  generally  of  the  beehive  shape,  covered 
with  clay,  with  a  low  entrance.  They  were  heated 
with  turfs,  like  a  brick-oven,  and  the  patient  was 
shut  in  for  a  given  time.  The  bath  was  followed 
by  a  plunge  in  a  pool  or  stream  near  by.  This  was 
the  usual  cure  for  rheumatism. 

A  custom  clearly  connected  with  medicine  among 
the  Irish  was  the  couvade.  On  the  birth  of  a 
child,  the  father  was  obliged  to  take  to  his  bed 
and  submit  to  a  vicarious  process  of  nursing  at 
the  hands  of  the  doctor  and  nurse.  The  custom 
was  widely  spread  throughout  the  world  in  primi- 
tive times,  especially  among  races  where  kinship 
was  reckoned  through  the  mother.  At  the  same 
time  it  is  a  custom  which  witnesses  to  the  responsi- 
bility of  fatherhood  even  under  conditions  which 
exalt  the  privilege  of  motherhood  (Wood-Martin, 
op.  cit.  ii.  40).  See  art.  BlETH  (Introduction),  vol. 
ii.  p.  635. 

In  the  legendary  history  of  the  invasion  of  Ulster  by  the 
Ffr  Bolg,  the  adult  males  were  en  couvade  and  unable  to  defend 
the  kingdom  of  Conchobar  against  the  enemy.  The  defence 
was  made  in  heroic  manner  by  Cuchulainn  and  his  father  only. 
Rhys  (p.  622)  refers  to  this  incident  as  the  '  distress  of  the  gods 
and  the  Bun-hero's  aid.'    Cf.  art.  Cuchulainn  Cycle. 

The  Ultonian  couvade  lasted  five  nights  and  four  days,  in 
accordance  with  the  use  of  the  number  '  nine '  in  the  reckoning 
of  time  among  the  Celts.  It  was  called  cess  noinden  Ulad, 
'  the  Ulster  men's  sickness  or  indisposition  of  a  week '  (ib.  p.  363). 
There  is  a  significant  correspondence  between  the  Ultonian 
couvade  and  the  Phrygian  idea  of  the  hibernating  of  the  gods. 
Rhys  would  place  the  origin  of  Aryan  myth  within  the  Arctic 
circle.  He  sees  in  the  labours  of  Cuchulainn  the  sun-hero  a 
mythical  witness  to  the  period  during  which  the  sun  in  the 
ancient  home  of  the  Aryans  remained  above  the  horizon  (ib. 
p.  633).  Would  not  the  couvade,  or  '  distress  of  the  gods,'  be  a 
trace  of  the  short  period  during  which  the  sun  remained  wholly 
below  the  horizon,  the  period  mythically  preceding  its  re-birth 
and  reappearance  in  the  heavens?  The  Ultonian  couvade  does 
not  explain  the  origin  of  the  custom,  but  only  the  application 
of  a  primitive  usage  to  the  explanation  of  the  annual  birth  of 
the  sun-god  just  within  the  Arctic  circle. 

Literature. — J.  Rhys,  Celtic  Heathendom  8,  London,  1898  ; 
£.  Anwyl,  Celtic  Religion,  London,  1906 ;  Charles  Squire, 
Mythology  of  Ancient  Britain  and  Ireland,  London,  1906 ; 
Gillies,  Gaelic  Names  of  Diseases,  Glasgow,  1898 ;  G.  Grupp, 
Eultur  der  alten  Eelten  und  Germanen,  Munich,  1905 ;  P. 
Joyce,  Social  Hist,  of  Ancient  Ireland,  London,  1903,  ch.  xviii. 

Thomas  Barns. 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Egyptian).— I. 
From  the  diagnostics  of  the  Egyptian  papyri  we 
can  distinguish — even  identify,  in  many  cases — 
about  250  different  kinds  of  diseases,  and  the  Ebers 
Papyrus  alone  describes  170  varieties.  Many  of 
them  are  the  common  ills  of  all  humanity,  and 
we  cannot  even  say  that  they  were  of  more  fre- 
quent occurrence  in  the  Valley  of  the  Nile  than 
elsewhere  :  complaints  of  the  stomach,  the  bowels, 
the  bladder,  the  respiratory  organs,  the  head,  the 
sinuses  of  the  face,  inflammation  of  the  teeth,  head- 
ache, coryza,  ordinary  fever,  varices,  epilepsy,  and 
nervous  ailments.  Other  diseases  seem,  by  com- 
parison with  modern  Egypt,  to  have  been  speci- 
ally prevalent, — asthma,  angina  pectoris,  anaemia, 
hsematuria, — but  it  cannot  be  decided  whether  the 
chief  cause  of  this  is  the  race  or  the  country. 
Some  are  certainly  connected  with  hygiene  (or 
rather  its  absence),  with  feeding,  and  with  habits. 
Skin  diseases,  smallpox  (cf.  Elliot  Smith's  in- 
vestigations of  the  mummies  in  Annates  du  service 
des  antiquMs  de  I'Egypte,  Paris,  1 900  ff. ,  and 
Bulletin  de  Vinstitut  igyptien,  Alexandria,  1862  ft'., 
passim  ;  and  Maspero,  Momies  royales,  Paris,  1886, 
p.  532),  the  infinite  variety  of  parasitic  diseases, 
e.g.  'Arabian  elephantiasis'  (  =  the  'crocodile 
disease'  of  the  ancients),  worms,  and  pyorrhoea 
alveolaris  are  the  several  consequences  of  these  in 
varying  degrees.  In  the  same  way,  it  was  to  the 
manners  and  customs  that  the  Egyptian  woman 
owed  her  long  list  of  infirmities  as  described  in  the 
Egyptian  treatises  from  the  Xllth  dynasty — flux, 
menstruation,  metritis,  dysmenorrhcea,  erosions, 
pustules,  prolapsus  of  the  vulva,  and  cancerous 
tumours.  It  was,  finally,  the  combined  operations 
of  Nature — water,  winds,  climate — and  of  the 
Egyptian's  negligence  that  produced  the  terrible 
frequency  of  ulcers,  Nile  boils,  carbuncles  on  the 
breast  and  legs,  and  especially  the  appalling  array 
of  eye-troubles,  among  which  are  seen  all  the 
varieties  known  at  this  day :  styes,  specks, 
ectropion,  blepharitis,  leucoma,  lippitude,  hydroph- 
thalmia,  staphyloma,  conjunctivitis,  purulent 
ophthalmia,  and  many  more.  Such  lists  as  these 
do  not  prove  the  unhealthiness  of  a  country,  but 
rather  show  the  degree  to  which  the  knowledge  of 
classical  Egypt  had  advanced  in  diagnostics  and 
therapeutics ;  and  the  close  resemblance  between 
ancient  and  modern  Egypt  in  this  respect  justifies 
the  conclusion,  in  agreement  with  Herodotus  (ii. 
77)  and  against  Pliny  (xxvi.  1),  that  the  Nile 
Valley  was  a  very  healthy  country,  where  the 
length  of  life,  in  SDite  of  the  opinion  of  Chabas 
('Pretendue  longevity  des  Egyptiens,'  in  Bibl. 
igyptol.  ii.  [1905]  181),  was  probably  in  excess  of 
that  of  the  average  man  of  the  present  day  ;  where 
the  general  health  was  much  better  than  in  Greece 
or  Italy,  for  example ;  and  where,  as  a  rule,  the 
great  scourges  that  so  often  laid  waste  the  rest  of  the 
ancient  world — endemic  diseases  such  as  malaria- 
were  unknown. 

A  classification  of  man's  ills  so  minute  leads,  even 
at  first  sight,  to  the  postulation  of  ideas  already 
far  removed  from  'primitive  savagery.'  This  im- 
pression is  confirmed  by  the  fact  that  neither  the 
mythology  of  classical  Egypt  nor  its  theologies 
attribute  any  special  disease  to  any  definite  gods. 
We  seem  to  see  in  the  whole  the  mark  of  a  con- 
siderable scientific  and  moral  advance  on  the  rest 
of  contemporary  society.  If,  however,  the  pure 
therapeutics  of  Egypt  witnesses  to  a  relative  but 
very  real  perfection,  on  the  other  hand  the  Egyptian 
ideas  on  the  causes  and  nature  of  disease  exhibit 
conceptions,  even  in  the  historical  period,  much 
more  akin  than  one  would  at  first  believe  to  those 
of  '  non-civilized '  peoples.  At  the  same  time  we 
find  that,  owing  to  the  special  conditions  under 
which  Egyptian  civilization  was  formed,  this  per- 


750 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Egyptian) 


sistent  characteristic  of  the  early  ages  has  produced 
on  the  roles  of  gods,  kings,  and  priests  in  this 
connexion  systematic  views  that  are  capable  of 
finally  reaching  lofty  and  noble  conceptions. 

2.  We  read  in  Clement  (ap.  Orig.  viii.  41) 
that,  when  any  part  of  the  body  was  sick,  the 
demon  to  which  that  member  belonged  was  in- 
voked. In  a  somewhat  imperfect  form  this  explains 
the  traditional  view  of  the  Egyptian  on  the  nature 
of  disease.  It  was  always  regarded  as  the  work  of 
demons,  spirits,  jinn,  ghouls,  vampires,  or  spirits 
of  the  dead  (see  Demons  and  Spirits  [Egyp.]). 
They  insinuated  themselves  into  the  individual  by 
the  nostrils,  mouth,  or  ears,  and  devoured  the  vital 
substance.  The  means  by  which  they  surprise 
man,  their  constant  efforts  to  do  so  as  they  prowl 
around  him  unceasingly,  and  the  manner  in  which 
they  perform  their  destruction  inside  his  body 
offer  no  special  interest  for  the  history  of  religion, 
though  the  numerous  formal  texts  describing  these 
peculiarities  may  interest  the  specialist  in  Egypto- 
logical science.  Compared  with  other  human 
civilizations  the  notions  on  this  subject  are  essen- 
tially the  same  as  we  find  in  classical  religions,  such 
as  the  Chaldseo- Assyrian  (cf.,  e.g.,  PSBA  xxviii. 
[1907]  81),  or  among  modern  savages  all  over  the 
world. 

The  idea  that  the  power  of  spirits — -the  causes  of 
disease — increases  peculiarly  at  certain  hours  of 
the  day,  and  particularly  at  certain  seasons  of  the 
year,  is  shown  by  the  papyrus  of  lucky  and  un- 
lucky days ;  and,  if  this  idea  is  found  equally 
among  numerous  non-civilized  and  semi-civilized 
races,  and  is  the  product,  in  Egypt  as  elsewhere, 
of  experimental  pseudo-observation,  yet  Egyptian 
astrology  has  greatly  strengthened  the  initial  data 
by  explaining  this  periodical  virulence  by  fixed 
rules,  based  on  the  influences  of  dates  of  the 
calendar  (q.v. )  and  on  mythological  history.  On 
such  days  'numerous  harmful  germs  permeate  the 
clothing,'  because  the  struggle  neutralizes  the 
power  of  the  good  gods,  who  are  too  busy  to 
protect  man,  or  because  great  evil  influences  are 
seen  to  be  re-commencing  in  this  world. 

On  19th  Tobi  and  5th  Pashus,  the  perms  '  penetrate  the 
clothing';  then  'infection  steps  in  and  causeB  death.'  On 
17th  Tobi,  the  anniversary  of  great  cataclysms,  any  sexual 
intercourse  predisposes  to  being  'devoured  by  infection.'1 
Those  born  on  4th  Paophi  are  liable  to  death  by  '  marsh '  fever. 
The  14th  of  Athyr  is  dangerous  because  it  is  the  anniversary  of 
the  '  lesion  *  of  the  '  majesty  of  this  god.'  This  last  peculiarity 
is  important  to  observe.  Since  disease  was  the  result  of  the 
attack  of  a  'spirit'  (or  of  a  demon  or  the  dead),  it  was  of  the 
same  type  for  every  one,  and  every  one  was  exposed  to  it. 
The  veterinary  papyri  show  that  Egyptian 
thought  conceived  of  animals'  diseases  as  due  to 
the  same  causes  as  those  of  men,  and  the  same 
mixture  of  medical  and  magical  practices  was 
applied  to  both,  just  as  the  same  collection  of 
writings  might  contain  both  the  art  of  curing 
men  and  that  of  curing  beasts. 

The  question  as  to  whether  the  dead  suffer  illness  is  difficult 
to  settle.  They  certainly  suffer  hunger  and  thirst — which  were 
regarded  by  the  Egyptians  as  things  existing  by  themselves  and 
due  to  harmful  spirits.  They  could  die  'the  Becond  death,' 
which  logically  supposes  the  possibility  of  attacks  of  illness. 
Finally,  the  precautions  taken  that  the  dead  may  remain  in 
good  health  (udzai)  in  the  other  world  assume  the  contrary 
possibility  of  illness.  We  have,  however,  no  decisive  texts  on 
this  point.  It  is  probably  reasonable  to  hold  that  the  Egyptian 
dead  were  believed  to  be  exposed,  in  certain  conditions,  to  the 
same  dangers  of  spirit-attacks  as  the  living. 
What  held  true  of  animals  and  men  also  held  of 
the  rest  of  the  world,  and  therefore  of  the  gods  ; 
we  know  of  a  great  number  of  cases  where  their 
constitution,  which  did  not  differ  in  qualities  or  in 
nature  from  that  of  other  beings,  suffered  various 
ills,  and  had  to  submit  to  the  intrusion  of  '  evil 
spirits.'  Epigraphic  texts  and  papyri  have  left 
us  definite  evidence.     Every  one   knows   how  Ra 

1  On  the  dangers  and  harm  resulting  from  connexion  with 
women  in  the  various  religious,  magical,  etc.,  acts  of  Egyptian 
life,  see  art.  Magic  (Egyp.  J 


had  to  die  because  a  serpent  bit  his  heel ;  Isis 
suffered  from  a  mammary  phlegmon  after  the 
birth  of  Shu  and  Tefnut ;  Horus  was  stung  by  a 
scorpion,  had  dysentery  (London  Papyrus),  and 
an  anal  weakness  (see  Oefele,  Vorhippokratische 
Medizin,  64).  The  sky-god  himself  saw  his  eyes, 
the  Sun  and  Moon,  affected  by  sudden  diseases, 
attributed  to  the  attacks  of  evil  spirits,  and  this 
was  one  of  the  numerous  ways  in  which  eclipses 
were  explained. 

Even  eliminating  the  cases  of  doubtful  authen- 
ticity, the  official  religion  recognized  positively 
that  the  national  gods  were  not  exempt  from 
disease.  The  medical  literature  of  the  temples 
preserves  the  deposit  of  prescriptions  used  in  such 
and  such  a  case  of  indisposition  by  ailing  gods. 
A  remedy  of  this  kind  had  been  composed  '  by  the 
invalid  Ra  '  (Ebers  Papyrus,  xlvi.),  and  there  were 
remedies  to  cure  fever  'in  gods  and  men. '  There 
was  nothing,  essentially,  to  protect  the  highest 
beings  from  the  ills  common  to  all.  But  here,  as 
elsewhere,  their  quality  of  godhead  was  derived 
from  their  superior  ability  to  concentrate  their 
energies  (see  Demons  [Egyp.]),  and  to  contrive 
defences  which  made  them  triumph  in  the  struggle. 
They  were  able  to  find  or  compose  prescriptions 
and  formula?  which,  in  the  special  case  of  disease, 
brought  them  out  of  their  trouble.  The  revelation 
of  the  secrets  of  their  art  or  magic,  granted  only 
to  those  men  who  were  their  heirs  or  ministers,  is 
the  very  foundation  of  Egyptian  medicine.  It 
unfolds  at  once  its  characteristics,  its  history,  and, 
above  all,  the  gradual  formation  of  its  knowledge. 

The  warfare  against  disease,  taught  by  the  gods 
(or  stolen  from  them),  proceeded  of  necessity  and 
above  all  from  magic  (gaining  support  gradually 
from  medicine  properly  so  called),  since  it  started 
originally  with  exorcism.  It  is  accompanied,  there- 
fore, by  spells  and  incantations,  with  all  their 
accessaries,  such  as  fumigation,  aspersions,  im- 
perative gestures,  etc.  The  knowledge  of  secret 
names  at  first  played  its  usual  part,  and  the  doctor 
of  ancient  Egypt  was  a  magician-priest,  entering 
upon  a  struggle  with  an  adversary — to  discover 
the  name  of  the  demon  causing  the  illness,  to  find 
by  secret  knowledge  the  name  of  a  god  who  had 
helped  in  a  fight  against  the  same  demon  in  a 
similar  case,  and  to  force  the  demon  to  flee.  This 
he  accomplished  either  by  disguising  himself  as 
the  conquering  god  and  imitating  his  actions,  or 
by  summoning  this  god  to  his  aid,  or  by  employ- 
ing the  relics,  talismans,  and  means  of  defence 
which  the  latter  had  invented.  (These  three 
methods  probably  constitute  three  successive 
phases  in  the  original  history  of  primitive  Egyp- 
tian therapeutics. )  As  usual,  '  alliteration,  or 
play  on  the  sound  of  the  words  spoken,  had  its 
share  in  all  this. 

Take  a  case  of  the  momentary  loss  of  sight,  e.g.,  which  was 
cured  by  adjuring  the  crocodile  ;  not  only  did  people  think 
that  the  same  remedy  which  had  saved  the  eye  of  the  heavens 
(  =  the  sun),  when  the  crocodile  tried  to  devour  it,  would  also 
save  man,  and  therefore  use  the  same  formula ;  but  at  the 
same  time  they  made  a  play  of  words  on  shu,  '  blind,'  and  shu, 
the  ostrich-feather  held  by  the  operator  while  making  the 
disease  return  to  the  crocodile  supposed  to  have  sent  it. 

The  belief  that  the  forces  and  armies  of  good  and 
evil  beings  were  grouped,  like  the  astral  forces,  in 
the  four  regions  of  the  world  produced  the  further 
practice  of  a  fourfold  pronouncement  of  the  for- 
mula? of  spells  and  exorcisms  preceding  or  accom- 
panying the  giving  of  the  material  medicine  (e.g. 
Ebers  Papyrus,  ch.  108).  Therapeutics  was,  there- 
fore, at  this  stage  an  operation  by  which  the  gods 
were  subjugated  by  the  various  processes  of  magic, 
'  contagious  '  or  mimetic. 

The  fundamental  nature  of  this  original  art  of 
healing  was  a  mark  of  the  Egyptian's  struggle 
against  disease  right  down  to  his  last  days.    In 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Egyptian) 


751 


spite  of  all  the  gradual  attenuation  of  magic  in 
favour  of  pharmaceutical  and  actually  experi- 
mental science,  therapeutics  remained  closely 
bound  to  Divine  influences,  both  in  its  staff  of 
officials  and  in  the  composition  of  its  didactic 
treatises.  The  remedy  proper  never  entirely  sup- 
planted the  ritualistic  and  con  juratory  part  of  the 
process. 

The  pharmacopoeia  proper  also  suffered  this 
general  influence.  A  great  proportion  of  the  sub- 
stances owed  their  supposed  virtues  to  the  magical 
powers  of  the  beings  or  things  from  which  they 
sprang,  or  to  their  supposed  mythological  con- 
nexion with  a  certain  god  or  spirit.  The  pharma- 
copoeia of  curative  and  harmful  plants  is  related,  in 
origin  at  least,  and  often  to  the  very  end,  to  the 
theory  of  '  spirits '  causing  and  protecting  from 
diseases  ;  and  the  Egyptian  ideas  on  this  point 
are  found  faithfully  represented  in  the  list  of 
thirty-six  magical  plants  of  Pamphilus  (de  Sim- 
plicium  medicin.  facilitations).  Finally,  it  is 
natural  that  the  magical  virtues  of  certain  objects 
against  disease  have  perpetuated,  in  Egypt  as 
elsewhere  and  for  the  same  reasons,  the  use  of 
amulets  (cf.  Charms  and  Amulets  [Egyp.]). 

3.  For  the  understanding  of  Egyptian  ideas  on 
disease  and  the  methods  of  conjuring  it,  it  is 
essential  to  study  the  formation  of  the  books  re- 
lating to  it.  The  gods  having  known  better  than 
any  other  beings  how  to  organize  a  defence,  it  was 
their  ministers  (or  their  possessors)  who  had  the 
exclusive  monopoly  of  magico-medical  cures,  re- 
vealed as  these  were  by  the  gods  or  seized  from 
their  secret  powers.  The  original  fetish-doctors, 
then,  had  as  their  inevitable  successors  priest- 
doctors  ;  and  the  growth  of  knowledge  was,  above 
all,  a  mechanical  growth,  by  the  union  into  col- 
lective classes,  of  the  '  arts  and  mysteries  '  at  first 
scattered  over  as  many  sanctuaries  as  there  were 
originally  independent  gods.  The  primitive  con- 
nexion between  the  spirits  of  gods  and  protection 
against  disease  was  likewise  the  cause  of  the  par- 
ticular manner  in  which  the  books  relating  to 
diseases  and  their  cure  were  composed,  and  of 
their  double  character,  in  the  historic  period,  of 
traditional  compositions  and  compilations  pure 
and  simple,  innocent  of  all  attempts  to  make  a 
harmonious  general  whole  on  a  rational  plan. 
Further,  there  is  nothing  more  opposed  to  an 
understanding  of  them  and  to  the  exegetical 
method  than  to  maintain  (like  Erman,  e.g.  in  his 
Religion  [Fr.  ed.,  1907,  p.  226])  that  the  attribution 
of  such  and  such  a  chapter  of  prescriptions  to  a 
certain  god  or  fabulous  king  is  an  artifice  of  the 
editor  and  indicates  a  late  date.  The  observation 
of  diseases  and  the  supposed  knowledge  of  the 
names  or  forces  to  be  adjured  or  driven  off  were 
the  fruit  of  experience  and  of  magical  prescriptions 
acquired  from  the  very  earliest  days  of  Egypt  by 
its  pre-historic  '  fetishists  ' ;  and  the  final  tradition 
which  in  the  Grseeo-Roman  period  attributed  to 
Hermes  Trismegistus  (Clement,  Strom,  vi.  4)  the 
composition  of  six  books  of  medicine  (on  the  forty- 
two  hermetical  books)  reproduced  exactly  the 
belief  of  classic  Egypt  in  its  last  stages,  repre- 
senting Thoth  as  the  god  who  invented  the  for- 
mula necessary  for  giving  remedies  their  power 
against  diseases  (cf.  Pietschmann,  Hermes  Tris- 
megistos,  Leipzig,  1875,  pp.  20-45  ff.). 

The  sacred  library  of  the  proto-historic  Egyptian 
temple  became  the  depository  of  the  lists  of  dis- 
eases and  their  cures,  and  the  evidence  of  his- 
torical times  in  this  regard  is  fully  in  accord 
with  the  reality  of  the  facts,  when  it  speaks  of  the 
library  that  was  at  Heliopolis,  '  the  hall  of  rolls,' 
and  the  prescriptions  found  in  the  temple  of  Ptah 
at  Memphis  (cf.  Wilkinson,  Manners  and  Customs, 
187S,  ii.  355,  358),  or  when  the  inscriptions  of  the 


'  library '  of  the  temple  of  Edfu  mention  the  pre- 
sence of  books  there  '  for  turning  aside  the  cause 
of  disease'  (cf.  Mallet,  Kasr  el  Agouz,  Cairo,  1909, 
p.  24). 

The  gradual  formation  of  medical  treatises  properly  so  called 
came  about  in  the  same  way  as  that  of  the  various  composi- 
tions forming  the  annals  of  the  sacerdotal  calendar  in  Egvpt, 
its  tales  of  feasts  (see  Festivals  [Egyp.]),  its  Books  of  the  bead, 
and  its  '  books '  of  the  different  sciences.  The  important 
sanctuaries  gathered  together  small  local  collections,  and  later 
on  made  exchanges  with  each  other  of  the  collections  thus 
obtained.  They  usually  proceeded  by  simple  juxtaposition. 
To  the  body  of  information  relating  to  a  certain  disease 
generations  gradually  joined  on  the  ancient  prescriptions  of 
different  provincial  '  wisdom,'  and  grouped  around  a  book  on 
eye-diseases,  internal  complaints,  and  ulcers  all  the  cures  and 
all  the  diagnostics — often  contradicting  each  other— obtained 
by  these  combinations.  The  part  of  the  body  or  the  disease 
stated  in  the  title  of  the  work,  having  served  as  the  basis  for 
the  work  of  compilation,  did  duty  also  as  a  '  rallying  sign  '  for 
all  works  on  any  analogous  subject,  without  distinction  of  date 
or  origin.  This  is  the  explanation  of  the  common  sections  that 
are  found  in  papyrus  after  papyrus — parts  common  to  the 
Leipzig  Papyrus  and  those  of  London  and  Berlin,  or  to  the 
latter  and  the  Reisner  Papyrus  of  California,  and  so  on.  Those 
common  parts  show  the  common  origin  of  our  papyri,  and 
their  character  of  compilations  from  much  older  writings. 
The  manner  in  which  the  very  scanty  remains  of  the  Xllth 
dynasty  treatises  were  composed  shows  that  these  processes 
of  compilation,  so  evident  in  the  XlXth  dynasty  papyri,  had 
been  employed  long  before.  And  this  fact,  in  conjunction  with 
a  study  of  grammar  and  language,  leads  us  to  conclude  that 
the  Egyptians  were  stating  an  absolutely  historical  truth  when 
they  attributed  the  additions  of  these  great  works  on  diseases 
to  the  Memphite  kings  or  to  the  first  legendary  dynasties  of 
the  Thinites.  As  leading  priest  in  his  kingdom,  the  king  was 
naturally  versed  in  the  magico-medical  art  of  healing,  and  this 
was  formally  said  of  the  most  ancient  kings  ;  iarpos  yap  fjv,  said 
Manetho  (apud  Africanus)  of  Athotis.  Such  an  attribution  to  the 
Pharaohs  of  a  charge  to  maintain  the  health  of  their  subjects 
agreed  in  every  point  with  their  nature  as  sons  of  gods,  and 
with  their  function,  which  was,  above  everything,  to  continue 
and  maintain  the  work  of  the  good  gods,  the  founders  of  Egypt 
(iarpiKrjv  re  t£eVioflcre  feat  jSt'^Aovs  avaro/wcavs  <rwe'ypat//e[[Manetho, 
apud  Eusebiusj). 

Being  logically  devoted  to  everything  that  was 
very  ancient  and  so  brought  him  a  little  nearer  to 
the  Divine  origin  of  all  that  is  good  on  earth,  the 
Egyptian  made  scarcely  any  change  in  the  basis 
or  the  form  of  the  knowledge  thus  obtained ;  he 
was  always  eager  to  show  how  the  new  recension 
of  one  of  these  '  ancient  books  of  knowledge  bene- 
ficial to  man '  was  attached  to  the  origins  of 
national  history.  And,  indeed,  criticism  has 
proved  that  the  Theban  manuscripts  proceed 
directly  from  the  proto-Theban,  and  the  proto- 
Theban  from  still  earlier  types.  The  books  that 
had  grown  too  old  materially  were  piously  copied. 
In  the  actual  body  of  texts  relating  to  a  certain 
disease,  the  work  of  generations  consisted  in  insert- 
ing glosses,  in  slightly  retouching,  or  in  support- 
ing the  efficacy  of  a  certain  formula  by  extolling 
in  the  margin  its  proved  excellence  (Ebers  Papyrus, 
lxix.  17,  xxxv.  18  ;  and  Reisner  Papyrus,  passim), 
or  by  telling  how  it  had  once  cured  such  and  such 
a  mighty  personage,  prince  or  king  (Ebers  Papyrus, 
lxiv.  4,  lxvi.  15).  The  re-copying  or  re-modelling 
of  several  ancient  versions  in  circulation  led  the 
scribe  to  note  the  variants  in  the  texts  used  in 
composing  the  new  edition,  or  to  insert — rather 
unskilfully  and  such  as  they  were — the  scholia  of 
his  predecessors  (cf.  the  excellent,  and  unfortu- 
nately still  unique,  work  on  the  Ebers  Papyrus 
considered  from  this  point  of  view,  by  Schafer, 
Commentationes  de  Papyro  Medicinali  Leipsiensi, 
Berlin,  1892).  The  most  serious  material  changes, 
then,  were  not  in  the  idea  held  of  disease,  or  in 
the  manner  of  defining  or  conjuring  it,  but  in  the 
increasing  of  the  means  combined  for  this  last 
purpose.  This  happened  very  rarely  by  the  inven- 
tion of  new  remedies,  but  usually,  and  much  more 
mechanically,  by  joining  to  the  old  writings  new 
treatises  from  other  localities,  but  equally  ancient. 
These  were  dismembered,  and  their  substance  was 
joined  on  according  to  the  diseases  enumerated. 
A  work,  e.g.,  devoted  to  '  abscesses  on  all  the  mem- 
bers '  became  the  nucleus  round  which  gathered 


752 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Egyptian) 


everything  that  could  be  found  in  the  various 
temples  of  the  nature  of  formulae  relating  to 
abscesses.  Thus  it  happened  that  there  were 
sometimes  a  dozen  methods  of  curing  one  disease, 
and  sometimes  contradictory  methods — e.g.  there 
occurred  side  by  side,  in  the  same  compilation, 
an  explanation  of  diseases  based  on  an  anatomy 
in  which  the  human  body  possesses  twelve  great 
blood-vessels,  and  another  founded  on  the  assump- 
tion that  it  has  forty.  It  was  not,  then,  that  the 
number  of  remedies  actually  increased  in  Egypt 
throughout  the  ages ;  there  was  rather  the 
diffusion  among  a  greater  number  of  Egyptians  of 
one  and  the  same  material  which  had  formerly 
been  embodied  in  a  multitude  of  petty  provincial 
theories.  A  general  invocation  at  the  end  to  the 
god  of  the  place  of  compilation  was  enough,  in  the 
compiler's  opinion,  to  guarantee  a  sort  of  unity  to 
the  work  composed  in  this  way. 

The  whole  result  was,  as  we  may  see,  far  from 
equal  to  a  treatise  of  synthetic — not  to  mention 
philosophic — character  on  disease  or  diseases.  It 
would  nevertheless  be  inaccurate  and  unfair  to 
see  in  such  works  (as  does  Pierret,  Diet,  d'arch. 
(■gyp.,  Paris,  1875)  nothing  but  a  collection  of 
pharmaceutical  prescriptions. 

4.  Religious  and  traditional  bases  so  solid  and 
so  closely  bound  up  with  national  beliefs  and 
institutions  have  necessarily  supported  a  structure 
whose  characteristic  lines  have  remained  almost 
intact  throughout  the  whole  existence  of  Egypt. 
The  science  of  disease  was  marked,  to  the  very 
end  of  Egyptian  history,  by  its  original  character- 
istics :  it  was,  above  all,  associated  with  the  world 
of  the  gods,  and  with  their  ministers ;  it  was 
traditional  and  formalistic. 

Thus  the  rule  not  to  use  remedies  that  the 
masters  have  not  taught  is  to  be  explained  not 
so  much  by  the  will  of  the  legislator,  looking  to 
the  social  interest,  as  by  the  belief  in  the  con- 
nexion between  the  virtues  of  the  remedies  and 
the  magic  teaching  of  the  gods ;  and  the  same 
explanation  helps  us  to  understand  the  non- 
responsibility  of  the  doctor  in  a  case  of  death,  if 
he  nad  observed  the  rules  of  canonical  therapeutics 
(Diod.  i.  82).  The  assertion  that  physicians  were 
paid  from  the  public  treasury  is  simply  a  mis- 
understanding in  the  classics,  but  a  misunder- 
standing which  exactly  agrees,  leaving  out  of 
account  inexact  terms,  with  historical  truth.  Born 
originally  in  the  '  fetish-hut,'  the  science  of  heal- 
ing fixed  its  abode  in  the  temple.  The  masters 
remained  the  ministers  and  interpreters  of  the 
gods,  and  the  series  of  mastabas,  hypogees,  stelse, 
and  statues  show  that,  from  the  Memphite  Em- 
pire to  the  Ptolemys,  the  great  doctors — those  of 
Pharaoh,  e.g.,  the  Sunu  oiru  (  =  chief  physicians) — 
were  at  the  same  time  high  ecclesiastical  digni- 
taries. 

Just  as  the  teaching  remained  religious,  the  art 
of  healing  in  its  three  great  branches  (symptom- 
ology,  therapeutics,  and  pharmacopoeia)  remained 
equally  impregnated  with  animistic  and  magical 
concepts  ;  thus  the  classical  doctor  continued  to 
prepare  his  own  medicines,  like  the  sorcerer  of 
primitive  times,  and  it  was  held  as  a  fact  that  in 
complicated  drugs  each  element  acted  on  a  special 
part  of  the  organism,  or,  rather,  on  the  evil  specially 
infecting  that  part ;  numerous  ingredients  were 
considered  curative  specially  for  reasons  of  sympa- 
thetic or  contagional  magic  (chiefly  animal  sub- 
stances, skin,  oils,  and  the  horrible  '  copro- 
therapy ').  And  yet  the  universal  reputation  of 
Egyptian  medicine,  and  the  very  real  perfection  of 
its  equipment,  diagnostics,  metrology,  and  heal- 
ing processes  are,  on  the  other  hand,  as  certainly 
incontestable  facts  (see  an  excellent  popular  ac- 
count in  Erman,  Life  in  Anc.  Egypt,  tr.  Tirard, 


London,  1894).  The  distinction  of  a  nation  of 
superior  endowment,  like  Egypt,  is  precisely  the 
ability  to  substitute,  gradually  and  without  sudden 
breaks,  the  conception  of  the  natural  healing  effect 
for  the  unexplained  magical  effect ;  and,  as  science 
and  magic-religion  both  proceed,  essentially,  from 
experimentation,  it  happens  in  many  cases  that 
only  the  interpretation  of  the  mechanism  of  the 
energies,  and  not  the  remedy  itself,  is  evolved. 
Such  as  it  is,  with  its  original  flaws,  its  lack  of 
theoretical  views,  its  crying  errors,  its  childish 
complication,  and  its  naive  formalism,  the  Egyp- 
tian science  of  healing  nevertheless  constituted 
from  the  very  beginning  a  system  several  thousand 
years  in  advance  of  the  rest  of  human  society.  It 
retained  this  pre-eminence  as  long  as  Egypt  ex- 
isted. The  testimony  of  Homer  (II.  iv.  229),  the 
admiration  of  the  Persians  (Herod,  iii.  1  and  132), 
the  fame  and  reputation  of  Egyptian  medicine 
under  the  Saites  and  the  Ptolemys,  and  the  repu- 
tation in  Rome  of  the  Alexandrian  school  can 
only  be  mentioned  at  present.  Such  enduring 
fame  is  an  explanation  of  the  fact  that  the  medi- 
cine of  Greeks  and  Arabians,  successors  of  the 
Copts,  has  given  a  great  deal  of  the  ancient 
Egyptian  medicine  to  our  school  of  Salerno,  e.g., 
or  to  any  other  of  our  ancient  seats  of  medical 
knowledge  in  the  Europe  of  the  Middle  Ages  and 
down  to  the  time  of  the  Renaissance. 

5.  The  development  of  Egyptian  science  suc- 
ceeded in  giving  a  more  distant  and  lofty  char- 
acter to  the  priest-doctor's  sources  of  information. 
But  it  never  completely  suppressed  the  primitive 
notion  of  direct  Divine  intervention  in  cases  of 
illness.  We  find  gods  of  healing  in  Egypt  as 
everywhere  else ;  and,  similarly,  the  great  scourges 
— plagues  or  other  great  epidemics,  iatu — are 
recognized  as  sent  by  the  gods. 

Egypt,  however,  strikes  an  original  note,  in  regard  to  this 
last  point,  in  the  very  restricted  part  played  by  the  idea  that 
great  calamities  come  from  the  gods,  though  this  idea  was 
known  (it  may  have  been  less  familiar,  however,  than  in  the 
classic  East,  on  account  of  the  proverbial  healthiness  of  the 
climate).  We  find  mention  in  Manetho  (Miiller,  FUG  ii. 
539)  of  the  plague  which  devastated  the  country  in  the  reign 
of  Semempses,  and  a  connexion  is  assumed  in  the  text  between 
this  scourge  and  the  great  sins  committed  by  men.  But  such 
statements  are  very  rare  in  the  Egyptian  texts.  The  point  is 
worth  noticing,  in  contrast  with  other  organized  religions,  for 
the  understanding  of  the  conception  formed  by  the  Egyptian 
of  the  general  rdle  of  his  gods.  In  the  case  of  individual  sick- 
nesses, on  the  other  hand,  historical  Egypt  is  already  too  far  re- 
moved from  the  '  non-civilized '  stage  to  establish  any  connexion 
between  such  and  such  a  bodily  complaint  and  the  violation 
of  a  tabu ;  we  ought  to  notice,  moreover,  that  the  idea  of 
disease  sent  as  a  punishment  by  the  gods,  who  either  cause  it 
themselves  directly  or  leave  the  sinner  defenceless  against  the 
spirits  of  disease,  is  quite  foreign  to  the  Egyptians.  Texts  of 
later  date,  like  the  hermetical  books,  in  which  mention  is  made 
of  those  '  divine  statues  which  send  us  disease  or  heal  our  pains 
according  to  our  deserts'  (Menard,  Hermes  Trismegiste,  1885, 
p.  146),  seem  to  be  somewhat  imbued  with  Greek  or  Asiatic  con- 
ceptions. Disease  might,  however, — at  least  in  popular  cults, — 
be  the  direct  punishment  for  a  personal  offence  against  a  deity, 
but  this  is  of  course  quite  different  from  the  conception  of  an 
infraction  of  moral  rule  (see  Ethics  [Egyp.] ;  and,  for  offences 
against  the  '  goddess  of  the  Summit,'  see  Maspero,  RTr  ii.  [1883] 
118-123). 

Several,  if  not  all,  of  the  gods  who  had  composed 
the  first  means  of  battling  with  disease  continued 
to  grant  or  reveal  directly  to  men  the  means  of 
healing  ;  and  the  majority  of  the  sanctuaries,  to 
which  numerous  worshippers  journeyed,  for  their 
oracles  (see  Divination  [Egyp.])  or  on  annual 
pilgrimages,  retained  the  privilege  of  miraculous 
cures.  The  temples  of  Isis  at  Coptos,  of  Min  at 
Panopolis,  and,  in  general,  all  those  temples  in 
which  the  medical  books  locate  the  marvellous 
discovery  of  writings  in  connexion  with  the  teach- 
ing of  remedies  (Hermopolis,  Lycopolis,  etc.)  were 
the  places  where  the  gods  were  themselves  able  to 
rout,  with  a  single  blow,  the  infirmities  of  the 
human  body.  We  must  add  to  this  list  a  great 
number  of  smaller  provincial  sanctuaries,  the  local 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Hindu) 


763 


gods  of  which,  though  very  humble,  had   special 
powers  (Assuan,  Gurneh,  etc.). 

Survivals  of  these  innumerable  places  of  miracu- 
lous cures  in  ancient  Egypt  are  seen  in  the  topo- 
graphical coincidences  with  various  saints'  graves 
of  the  Coptic  Church — having  the  same  privilege 
— and,  after  Muhammad,  with  all  the  tombs  of 
Musalman  shaikhs  which  have  succeeded  to  the 
veneration  of  ancient  days  for  these  places. 

Towards  the  latter  days  of  history,  political 
events  tended  to  group  the  most  important  of 
these  centres  of  medicine  round  the  capitals  of 
Upper  and  Lower  Egypt,  and  the  infiltration  of 
Persian  and  Hellenistic  ideas  added  new  elements 
to  the  r61e  of  the  gods  against  disease. 

6.  The  means  used  by  the  gods  in  such  cases  to 
instruct  or  heal  patients  are  not  well  known  in 
general.  Several  texts  say  that,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  Greek  ideas,  the  custom  spread  in  Egypt 
of  going  to  sleep  inside  the  precincts  of  the  temples 
of  the  gods  of  healing,  or  near  the  supposed  tombs 
of  those  celebrated  historical  personages  whom 
legend  gradually  confused  with  mythical  kings 
and  the  gods  of  healing  (see  Divination  [Egyp.]). 
This  is  the  case  for  Imhotep  (cf.  Psherenptah  stela). 
Invalids  were  informed  of  their  remedies  oftenest 
in  dreams,  as  is  proved  by  a  certain  number  of 
allusions  in  the  epigraphical  monuments,  by  the 
accounts  in  popular  tales,  and  by  the  witness  of 
Diod.  i.  25.  Direct  cure,  following  upon  a  prayer, 
and  without  divinatory  revelation,  is  not  formally 
entertained  except  in  Herod,  ii.  65,  according  to 
whom  sums  of  money  equal  in  weight  to  a  half  or 
a  third  of  the  sick  child's  hair  (?)  were  vowed  to 
the  gods  in  case  of  recovery,  or  a  promise  was 
made  to  buy  a  beast  for  the  temple  herds.  The 
sudden  inspiration  of  the  doctor  enlightened  by 
Divine  grace  and  working  Sib.  ttjs  Idtas  SeicnSai- 
liovlas  is  not  a  very  Egyptian  trait,  and  may  be 
due  to  foreign  influences  (cf.  Berthelot,  Alchi- 
mistes  gre.cs,  1890,  p.  226).  The  essentially  native 
form  of  miraculous  cure  by  the  intercession  of 
the  god  appears  to  have  been  worked  chiefly  by 
the  direct  application  of  the  healing  fluid,  either 
by  the  priest  who  carried  the  Divine  relics,  the 
nibsau,  or,  in  important  cases  (demoniac  posses- 
sion, epilepsy,  and  the  like),  the  god  himself. 
The  famous  Stela  of  Bakhtan  is  a  familiar  ex- 
ample of  this  type  of  curing  by  exorcism  worked 
by  a  Divine  statue.  The  adjuration  of  the  demon 
of  disease,  his  overthrow,  and  his  departure  from 
the  body  of  the  princess,  are  merely  an  instance  of 
a  practice  current  in  all  the  religions  or  '  semi- 
religions  '  in  which  there  is  a  '  dispelling  of 
demons.'  It  is  more  interesting  to  note  the 
manner  in  which  the  statue  of  a  god  was  supposed 
by  the  Egyptians  to  be  capable  of  possessing  the 
necessary  power.  The  Egyptian  text  proves  that 
this  power  was  possible  only  to  a  '  secondary '  statue 
of  the  god — one  of  those  animated,  for  a  special 
series  of  activities,  by  an  '  energy-soul '  of  distinct 
name.  It  derived  its  chief  power  from  the  '  essential ' 
statue  of  Khonsu,  the  Statue  which  contained  the 
magic  soul  of  the  god  and  made  his  will  known  by 
movements  of  its  head  (see  Divination  [Egyp.]). 
This  famous  statue  never  left  Thebes  ;  it  kept  the 
best  of  the  Divine  substance  there,  and  consented 
to  detach  and  lend  its  healing  forces  only  to  such 
and  such  a  one  of  its  doubles,  '  by  bestowing  upon 
it  (by  the  nape  of  the  neck)  its  protective  fluid 
at  four  intervals  '  (which  is  a  very  valuable  indica- 
tion of  the  antiquity  of  the  magical  conception). 
Apparently,  then,  the  power  against  disease  did 
not  belong  to  all  the  '  doubles '  of  a  god.  It  was 
the  privilege  of  the  one  image  in  which  dwelt  the 
'  true  name,'  and  this  assumes  that  power  against 
demons  was  a  part  of  the  ultimate  reserve  of  the 
personality  of  a  being. 
vol.  iv. — 4S 


Finally — the  primitiveness  of  the  practice  of  ex- 
orcism by  statues  being  a  traditional  survival— 
we  may  hold  that,  at  the  end  of  a  long  period 
of  evolution,  the  views  of  the  Egyptian  upper 
classes  on  disease  often  came  near  to  really  lofty 
conceptions.  Though,  as  everywhere,  sorcery,  the 
bastard  child  of  primitive  religion,  preserved  the 
rudeness  of  the  '  dispelling  of  spirits  of  primitive 
days,  still  the  fight  for  healing,  while  maintaining 
its  character  of  Divine  teaching,  became  more  and 
more  natural  and  scientific.  If,  indeed,  it  attri- 
buted a  large  share  to  the  supernatural  inter- 
vention of  the  gods,  it  also  gave  an  important 
place  to  Divine  inspiration,  guiding  the  man  of 
science.  Thoth-Hermes,  in  his  various  names  and 
multiple  capacities,  inspires  sacred  medicine  with 
a  higher  knowledge  of  human  infirmities,  without, 
however,  assuming  the  absence  of  resources  founded 
on  therapeutics.  The  priest-doctor  of  the  later 
ages  of  Egypt  is  a  noble  figure,  resembling  that 
of  the  magnificent  portrait  left  by  Cheremon 
(FHG  iii.  497).  And  between  the  magic  idol 
(or  fetish)  of  the  first  healers  of  Egypt  and  the 
Thoth-Hermes  of  the  end  there  is  the  same  dis- 
tance (and  the  same  long  way  laboriously  tra- 
versed) as  between  the  anthropophagous  Osiris  of 
the  Pyramid  Texts  and  the  Grseco-Egyptian  Osiris, 
who  gives  a  seat  at  his  table  of  honour  in  Paradise 
to  the  poor  beggar  '  who  had  not  had  his  share  of 
happy  days  on  this  earth.' 

Literature. — There  is  no  monograph  treating  the  subjeot 
synthetically.  A  great  number  of  details  and  partial  theories 
are  found  scattered  throughout  the  bibliography  of  Egyptian 
medicine.  Mention  may  be  made,  amongst  the  works  and  articles 
treating  more  specially  the  ideas  discussed  above,  ,pf :  H. 
Brugsch,  Uber  die  medicinische  Eenntniss  der  alt.  Agypter, 
Brunswick,  1863;  F.  J.  Chabas,  (Euvres,  1903,  vol.  ii.,  Bibl. 
Cgyptol.  ii.  173,  and  La  Midecine  des  anciens  Egyptians, 
Chalon-sur-Sa6ne,  1861 ;  G.  Maspero,  Revue  Critique,  1893, 
ii.  69,  Histoire,  ii.  (Paris,  1895)  214-220,  238,  281,  PSBA  xiii. 
501-503,  xiv.  312-314,  Etudes  mythol.  archeol.  iii.  (1901)  289, 
301,  Journal  des  Savants,  Apr.  1897  and  Feb.  1898,  Journal  des 
Debate,  28  Feb.  1906;  Mallet,  Kasr  el  Agouz,  Cairo,  1909; 
E.  Naville,  Sphinx,  xiv.  (1910)  137 ;  F.  Oefele,  Archiv  f. 
Parasitologic,  iv.  (1901)  481,  v.  (1902)  461,  OLZ  ii.  26,  v.  167,  vi. 
376,  S.Z  xxxvii.  (1899),  56,  140,  Wiener  Klinische  Wochenschrift, 
1899,  no.  47,  Prager  Mediz.  Woehenschrift,  1899,  nos.  24-29, 
and  especially  '  Geschichte  der  vorhippocratischen  Medizin, 
in  the  Handbuch  der  Geschichte  der  Medizin,  i.,  Jena,  1901  ; 
W.  Wreszinski,  Der  grosse  medizinische  Papyrus  des  Ber. 
liner  Museums,  Leipzig,  1909  ;  and  J.  G.  Wilkinson,  Manners 
and  Customs,  ed.  London,  1878,  ii.  354-368. 

George  Fotjcart. 

DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Greek  and 
Roman). — Disease  and  its  treatment  by  rational 
medical  means  belong  to  the  domain  of  scientific 
medicine.  The  help  of  the  gods  was  sought  in  ill- 
ness and  accidents  by  purely  religious  means — by 
prayer,  sacrifice,  and,  above  all,  the  institution  of 
incubation.  The  gods  granted  their  assistance 
either  directly,  by  a  miracle  of  healing,  or  in- 
directly, through  the  medium  of  an  oracle  of  heal- 
ing. The  subject  will  be  fully  treated  in  the  artt. 
Health  and  Gods  of  Healing,  Incubation. 

Ed.  Thraemer. 

DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Hindu).— I. 
Disease. — The  earliest  view  of  disease  in  India 
was  that  all  morbid  and  abnormal  states  of  body 
and  mind  for  which  no  special  reason'  was  assign- 
able were  due  to  the  attacks  of  demons.  In  the 
medical  charms  of  the  Atharvaveala,  the  earliest 
medical  book  of  India,  the  diseases  are  constantly 
addressed  as  demoniacal  beings.  Thus  Fever,  a 
demon  who  makes  men  sallow  and  inflames  them 
like  fire,  is  implored  to  leave  the  body,  and  is 
threatened  with  annihilation  if  he  should  not 
choose  to  do  so.  '  0  Fever,'  says  another  charm, 
'  thy  missiles  are  terrible ;  from  these  surely  exempt 
us.'  Itch  (pa-man)  is  called  Fever's  brother's  son. 
The  malevolent  spirits  of  disease  were  regarded  as 
specially  dangerous  to  children.  Thus  infants  were 
liable   to   be   attacked   by   Naigamesa,    a  demon 


754 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Hindu) 


with  a  goat's  head,  who  is  mentioned  in  early  San- 
skrit literature,  and  represented  in  an  old  sculpture 
found  at  Mathura.  Jambha,  another  Vedic  god- 
ling  of  disease,  was  supposed  to  cause  the  trismus 
of  infants.  A  '  dog-demon '  attacking  boys  is  said 
to  mean  epilepsy,  or  perhaps  whooping-cough. 
Another  ancient  superstition  attributed  the  origin 
of  dropsy  to  Varuna,  the  god  of  the  waters,  who 
binds  the  guilty,  e.g.  liars  and  false  witnesses,  with 
his  terrible  snake-bonds,  i.e.  dropsy.  Elves  and 
nightmares,  called  Apsaras  and  Gandharvas,  were 
believed  to  pay  nocturnal  visits  to  men  and  women. 
Disorders  of  the  mind  were  also  very  generally 
ascribed  to  possession  by  a  demon  {bhuta),  even  in 
scientific  works  on  medicine  such  as  the  manuals 
of  Charaka  and  Susruta.  When  the  belief  in 
transmigration  took  hold  of  the  Hindu  mind,  it 
furnished  a  new  explanation  of  the  origin  of 
disease.  Diseases  and  infirmities  were  traced  to 
sins  and  offences  committed  in  a  previous  birth. 
According  to  this  doctrine  of  the  '  ripening  of 
deeds '  (karmavipaka),  a  mortal  sinner  will  have 
leprosy  in  a  future  birth;  a  Brahman-killer,  pul- 
monary consumption ;  a  drinker  of  spirits,  black 
teeth  ;  a  calumniator,  a  stinking  nose ;  a  malignant 
informer,  stinking  breath ;  a  thief  of  food,  dys- 
pepsia ;  a  thief  of  horses,  lameness ;  a  poisoner, 
a  stammering  tongue ;  a  usurer,  epilepsy  ;  an  in- 
cendiary will  be  born  a  madman  ;  one  who  kills 
a  cow  or  steals  a  lamp  will  be  blind,  etc.  (see 
Visnusutra,  ch.  xlv.).  Most  of  these  punishments 
in  a  future  life  are  symbolical.  As  a  consequence 
of  these  beliefs,  religious  penances  were  performed, 
for  instance,  by  lepers  in  order  to  atone  for  the 
heinous  sins  in  a  former  existence  to  which  their 
illness  was  attributed.  A  more  rational  theory  of 
disease  was  found  in  the  idea  that  worms  gave 
rise  to  morbid  conditions — a  universal  belief  which 
may  perhaps  be  viewed  as  the  first  germ  of  the 
modern  bacillus  theory.  Headache  and  ear  and  eye 
diseases,  as  well  as  intestinal  diseases,  were  attri- 
buted to  worms ;  worms  in  children  and  in  cattle 
also  find  special  mention  in  the  hymns  of  the 
Atharvaveda.  The  ancient  physician  Jivaka  (see 
below)  is  alleged  in  the  Buddhist  scriptures  to  have 
cured  a  patient  by  making  an  incision  in  his  head 
and  pulling  two  worms  out  of  the  wound.  The 
medical  Sanskrit  works  derive  the  origin  of  in- 
ternal diseases  principally  from  a  wrong  mixture 
of  the  three  humours  (tridosa)  of  the  human  body 
— wind,  bile,  and  phlegm ;  and  thus  distinguish 
between  wind,  bile,  and  phlegm  diseases. 

Of  particular  diseases,  fever  is  perhaps  the  most 
important.  It  is  called  in  the  medical  works  the 
'  king  of  diseases,'  and  appears  to  hare  been  already 
the  most  dreaded  ailment  at  the  time  of  the 
composition  of  the  Atharvaveda,  the  symptoms 
mentioned  suggesting  true  malarial  fever.  This 
corresponds  with  modern  statistics,  according  to 
which  nearly  two-thirds  of  the  deaths  in  India  are 
due  to  fever.  Leprosy  is  said  to  consist  of  eighteen 
varieties,  seven  heavy,  and  the  remaining  ones 
light.  It  is  evident,  however,  that  true  leprosy  be- 
came confused  with  various  skin  diseases.  Small- 
pox {masilrikd)  is  first  mentioned  in  mediaeval 
medical  works.  The  plague  is  not  mentioned  in 
Sanskrit  medical  works,  and  seems  to  be  of  recent 
importation  in  India. 

2.  Medicine. — Folk-medicine  in  India  is  closely 
connected  with  sorcery.  '  The  most  primitive 
witchcraft  looks  very  like  medicine  in  an  embryonic 
state'  (Sir  Alfred  Lyall,  Asiatic  Studies,  1st  ser., 
1907,  p.  118).  The  earliest  collection  of  charms 
found  in  the  Atharvaveda,  which  is  reckoned  as 
one  of  the  four  Vedas,  though  it  never  attained 
the  same  degree  of  sanctity  as  the  other  three, 
probably  because  it  contains  incantations  for  de- 
stroying an  enemy,  the  idea  of  injuring  another, 


he  he  even  an  enemy,  being  opposed  to  the  spirit  of 
Hinduism.  In  the  medical  charms  of  the  Atharva- 
veda and  of  the  Kauiikasiitra,  the  diseases,  and 
frequently  the  curative  agencies  as  well,  are  ad- 
dressed as  supernatural  beings  (see  above).  The 
remedies  applied  are  based,  in  many  cases,  on  a 
rude  kind  of  homoeopathic  or  allopathic  principle. 
Thus  the  yellow  colour  of  a  patient  affected  with 
jaundice  is  sent  where  it  naturally  belongs — to 
the  yellow  sun  and  yellow  birds — the  patient  being 
seated  on  a  couch  beneath  which  yellow  birds 
are  tied.  The  hot  fever  is  sent  to  the  cool  frog, 
who  may  be  supposed  to  find  it  enjoyable.  Dropsy, 
the  disease  sent  by  Varuna,  the  god  of  the  waters, 
is  cured  by  sprinkling  water  over  the  patient's 
head  by  means  of  twenty-one  (three  times  seven) 
tufts  of  sacred  grass,  the  water  sprinkled  on  the 
body  being  supposed  to  cure  the  water  in  the  body. 
A  coral  spear-amulet  is  used  to  counteract  pains 
that  seem  as  if  from  a  spear — either  rheumatism 
or  colic.  White  leprosy  is  cured  by  applying  black 
plants.  Red,  the  colour  of  life  and  blood,  is  the 
natural  colour  of  many  amulets  employed  to  secure 
long  life  and  health.  Amulets,  mostly  derived 
from  the  vegetable  kingdom,  are  used  a  great  deal, 
the  idea  being  that  the  supposed  curative  substance 
has  to  be  brought  into  contact  with  the  body.  The 
sores,  tumours,  and  pustules  apparent  in  scrofulous 
diseases  are  conjured  to  fall  of}',  or  fly  away,  because 
they  were  supposed  to  have  settled  like  birds  on 
the  afflicted  person.  The  cure  of  wounds  and 
fractures  is  effected  by  incantations  which  have 
been  compared  by  A.  Kuhn  with  the  Merseburg 
charm  of  German  antiquity.  Flow  of  blood  is 
charmed  to  cease  by  a  hymn  which  seems  to 
indicate  the  use  of  a  bandage  or  compress  filled 
with  sand.  There  are  many  charms  for  the  cure 
of  the  poisonous  bites  of  snakes,  also  charms  directed 
against  poison  not  derived  from  serpents.  Water 
and  fire  are  viewed  as  excellent  remedies  for  many 
diseases ;  thus  a  Vedic  charm  declares :  '  The  waters 
verily  are  healing,  the  waters  cure  all  diseases.' 
Fire  is  especially  invoked  in  charms  against  mania, 
and  sacrifices  to  the  god  of  fire,  burning  of  fragrant 
substances,  and  fumigation  are  amongst  the  prin- 
cipal rites  against  possession  by  demons.  Some  of 
the  herbs  used  in  medicine  seem  to  owe  their  em- 
ployment as  remedies  to  their  names  only,  not  to 
any  real  curative  properties  possessed  by  them. 
The  charms  of  the  Atharvaveda  have  been  fitly 
compared  with  the  sacred  formulas  of  the  Cherokees, 
and  other  spells  current  among  the  Indians  of 
North  America.  On  the  other  hand,  they  must  be 
acknowledged  to  contain  a  fairly  searching  diag- 
nosis of  some  diseases,  as,  e.g. ,  of  malarial  fever  with 
its  accompanying  symptoms,  such  as  jaundice, 
headache,  cough,  and  itch. 

The  second  period  of  Indian  medicine  is  the 
Buddhist  period,  ushered  in  by  Jivaka  Komara- 
bhachcha,  the  contemporary  of  Buddha  himself,  of 
whom  the  most  wonderful  cures  are  reported,  and 
whose  name  indicates  that  he  was  particularly 
famous  for  the  treatment  of  children  s  diseases. 
The  canonical  books  of  the  Buddhists  contain  a 
number  of  medical  statements.  The  famous  Bower 
MS,  written  in  the  5th  cent.  A.D.,  and  called  after 
an  English  traveller  who  discovered  it  at  Mingai 
in  Central  Asia  in  1890,  contains  three  medical 
treatises,  one  of  them  being  a  spell  against  snake 
poison,  said  to  have  been  applied  with  success  by 
Buddha  himself  when  a  young  pupil  of  his  had 
been  bitten  on  the  foot  by  a  cobra.  Buddhist 
kings  founded  hospitals  for  men  and  beasts,  and 
appointed  regular  physicians.  The  famous  Bud- 
dhist convent  at  Nalanda  in  Bihar,  of  which  some 
ruins  remain,  had  ample  accommodation,  in  the 
7th  cent.  A.D.,  for  10,000  students  of  philosophy 
and  medicine 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Jewish) 


756 


The  third  period  produced  the  now  current  San- 
skrit treatises  of  Charaka,  Susruta,  Vagbhata, 
Madhavakara,  Vahgasena,  Harita,  Bheda,  Vrnda, 
and  others  on  medicine  in  general  or  on  particular 
subjects,  such  as  pathology,  fever,  infantile  diseases, 
materia  medica,  etc.  Charaka  is  said  to  have  lived 
at  the  court  of  the  Buddhist  king  Kaniska  (c.  A.D. 
120) ;  the  great  work  of  Susruta  is  said  to  have 
been  re-cast  by  the  celebrated  Buddhist  sage  Nagar- 
juna ;  Vagbhata  was  himself  a  Buddhist.  The 
connexion  of  the  modern  period  of  medical  science 
in  India  with  the  Buddhist  epoch  is  thus  estab- 
lished, and  the  high  stage  of  development  reached 
by  it  seems  to  date,  in  the  main,  from  the  Buddhist 
time.  The  materia  medica  in  these  works  embraces 
an  immense  number  of  drugs  belonging  to  the 
mineral,  vegetable,  and  animal  kingdoms.  There 
are  special  works  on  pharmacy  and  chemistry,  con- 
taining ingenious  processes  of  preparation,  especially 
of  quicksilver  and  other  metallic  medicines,  which 
were  prescribed  internally  as  well  as  externally. 
Indian  surgery,  as  represented  in  Susruta  and 
Vagbhata,  can  boast  of  the  practice  of  lithotomy 
and  laparotomy,  and  of  operations  performed  in 
cases  of  cataract,  piles,  disease  in  the  uterus,  for 
forming  new  ears  and  noses  (rhinoplasty,  which 
seems  to  have  been  borrowed  by  European  surgeons 
from  India),  etc.,  with  more  than  a  hundred  different 
surgical  instruments.  Indian  medical  works  and 
doctors  were  exported  into  Arabia,  and  Charaka 
and  SuSruta  may  he  found  quoted  in  the  writings 
of  Razi  (c.  A.D.  900)  and  other  eminent  Arabian 
doctors.  Many  medical  Sanskrit  texts  were  trans- 
lated into  Tibetan,  and  again  from  Tibetan  into 
Mongolian  and  other  languages  of  Central  and 
Northern  Asia.  On  the  other  hand,  it  appears 
probable  that  the  physicians  of  India  at  an  earlier 
period  learnt  a  great  deal  from  the  Greeks,  especi- 
ally in  the  field  of  surgery,  their  own  knowledge 
of  anatomy  being  too  limited  to  admit  of  the  per- 
formance of  difficult  surgical  operations.  More- 
over, the  ancient  superstitious  notions  were  retained 
by  them.  Thus  a  certain  form  of  smallpox,  which 
is  treated  with  cold  applications,  is  personified  as 
Sitala,  '  the  cold  deity,  and  is  to  be  worshipped 
with  a  prayer  in  which  it  is  declared  that,  whenever 
a  person  afflicted  with  smallpox  addresses  the  deity 
as  '  Sitala,  Sitala,'  the  eruptions  will  at  once  dis- 
appear from  his  skin,  and  that  this  goddess  possesses 
a  rain  of  ambrosia  for  those  tormented  by  pustules. 
Seven  forms  of  this  disease  are  described,  which 
survive  in  the  seven  smallpox  sisters,  including 
Sitala,  whose  worship  is  very  common  in  N.  India. 
The  more  aggravated  forms  of  mental  diseases  are 
attributed  to  possession  by  a  demon,  and  the  cure 
is  to  be  effected  by  propitiating  the  devil  with 
oblations  in  a  fire  lighted  in  a  temple,  and  with 
gifts  consisting  of  eatables,  an  umbrella,  etc. 
Infants  are  particularly  liable  to  be  attacked  by  a 
demon,  the  symptoms  described  pointing  to  lock- 
jaw. The  treatment  of  snake-bites  includes  the 
recitation  of  charms.  When  a  child  is  born,  various 
religious  ceremonies  take  place,  such  as  the  offer- 
ing of  oblations  in  a  fire  kindled  for  the  pur- 
pose, with  a  view  to  protecting  mother  and  child 
against  the  attacks  of  demons.  The  prognostics 
of  disease  depend  in  the  first  place  on  various 
omens,  such  as  the  appearance  and  dress  of  the 
messenger  come  to  summon  the  physician,  and 
the  objects  or  persons  seen  by  the  latter  on 
his  way  to  the  patient.  The  Indian  physicians 
(kavirajas)  of  the  present  day,  who  belong  to  the 
Vaidya  caste  in  Bengal,  and  to  Brahman  castes  in 
most  other  parts  of  India,  have  naturally  been 
losing  ground  owing  to  the  introduction  of  European 
scientific  medicine  into  India ;  nevertheless  they 
continue  to  be  consulted  by  the  common  people, 
who  also  still  adhere  to  the  popular  superstitions 


of  old.  Various  godlings  of  disease  in  nearly  all 
parts  of  India  are  worshipped  with  offerings  of 
milk,  flowers,  fruits,  sweets,  rice,  betel-nuts,  and 
sometimes  a  goat.  When  a  child  becomes  danger- 
ously ill  with  smallpox,  it  is  sometimes  carried  to 
an  image  of  Sitala,  and  bathed  in  the  water  which 
has  been  offered  to  the  goddess,  some  of  which  it 
is  given  to  drink.  There  are  also  incantations  for 
almost  every  disease — headache,  toothache,  fever, 
dysentery,  leprosy,  madness,  burns,  scalds,  snake- 
bites, etc.  In  S.  India  devil-dancing  is  very 
common.  Whenever  the  '  doctor '  attending  a  sick 
person  finds  that  the  malady  will  not  yield  to  his 
remedies,  he  certifies  that  it  is  a  case  of  possession, 
and  the  exorcizer  is  then  called  in  to  expel  the 
demon.  The  malignant  spirits,  the  supposed 
authors  of  a  plague,  are  tempted  to  pass  into  the 
wild  dancers  and  so  become  dissipated,  the  devil- 
dancers  being  also  thought  to  become  gifted  with 
clairvoyance  and  a  power  of  delivering  oracular 
utterances  on  any  subject  of  common  interest.  See, 
further,  Disease  and  Medicine  (Vedic). 

Literature.— M.  Bloomfield,  '  The  Atharva-veda,'  in  01 AP 
ii.  1,  Strassburg,  1899,  and  in  SBB  xlii.,  Oxford,  1897 ;  J.  Jolly, 
'  Medicin,'  GIAP,  1901 ;  T.  A.  Wise,  Commentary  on  tlie  Hindu 
System  of  Medicine,  London,  1860 ;  W.  Caland,  Altindisches 
Zauberritual,  Amsterdam,  1900;  M.  Winternitz,  'Folk-medi- 
cine in  Ancient  India,'  in  Nature,  7th  July  1898  ;  Sir  Bhagvat 
Siuh  Jee,  A  Short  History  of  Aryan  Medical  Science,  Lond. 
1896 ;  P.  C.  Ray,  History  of  Hindu  Chemistry,  Lond.  1902, 
vol.  i. ;  Census  of  India,  1901,  Bengal  Report ;  Sir  M.  Williams, 
Modern  India  and  the  Indians,  London,  1879 ;  W.  Crooke, 
Popular  Religion  and  Folk-lore  of  N.  India,  London,  1896. 

J.  Jolly. 

DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Jewish).  — I. 
DISEASE.— I.  Biblical. — Three  initial  stages  may 
be  traced  in  the  perennial  consideration  of  this 
subject.  Disease — so  it  was  held — is  sent  from  the 
Deity  ;  it  is  therefore  a  punishment  for  sins  com- 
mitted ;  that  is,  every  one  who  suffers  from 
disease  has  previously  done  some  wrong  for  which 
he  is  atoning  by  his  bodily  afflictions.  It  is  obvious 
that  this  case  is  completely  covered  by  the  larger 
and  more  general  question  of  evil,  as  dealt  with,  for 
example,  in  Job.  Yet,  although  the  Book  of  Job 
might  be  said  finally  to  solve  the  problem  as  far  as 
contemporary  thought  was  concerned,  inquiry  re- 
asserts itself  after  a  brief  interval. 

In  the  investigation  of  Biblical  examples  of  sick- 
ness consequent  on  sin,  care  must  be  taken  to  ex- 
elude  those  cases  where  the  punishment  takes  the 
form  of  a  violent  or  unnatural  death.  These  are 
included  in  the  larger  category  of  evil.  Thus  the 
case  of  Korah  (Nu  1629ff-)  and  that  of  the  disobedient 
prophet  (1  K  131"-)  do  not  apply,  but  the  death  of 
Bathsheba's  first  son  (2  S  12u)  or  the  smiting  of 
the  Egyptian  firstborn  (Ex  1229)  might  certainly 
be  cited.  It  is  also  important  to  differentiate  cases 
where  the  sinner  himself  is  smitten  from  those 
where  the  punishment  falls  vicariously  on  others 
who  may  be  innocent,  but  whom  the  sinner  loves 
more  than  himself.  To  the  former  category  be- 
long the  punishments  of  leprosy  meted  out  to 
Miriam  (Nu  1210)  and  Gehazi  (2  K  527) ;  to  the 
latter,  the  death  of  Abijah,  son  of  Jeroboam  (1  K 
1412),  for  the  death  of  the  child  meant  the  destruc- 
tion of  Jeroboam's  fondest  hope — the  foundation 
of  a  dynasty.  Further,  as  a  corollary  to  the  latter 
class  may  be  mentioned  those  cases  in  which  the 
community  suffers  from  disease  because  of  (a) 
general  and  (b)  individual  trespass.  The  com- 
munity would  seem  to  be  punished  because  it  par- 
ticipates actively  or  even  passively  by  not  rejecting 
the  criminal,  for  in  the  absence  of  duly  appointed 
officials  it  is  every  one's  duty  to  take  the  law  into 
his  own  hands.  It  is  also  suggested  that  the 
knowledge  that  the  commission  of  a  certain  action 
may  involve  others  in  disease  and  pain  may  act 
upon  the  evil-doer  as  a  deterrent. 

An  enumeration  of  all  the  cases  in  the  Bible 


766 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Jewish) 


where  disease  is  a  punishment  is  unnecessary.  It 
may  suffice  to  mention  a  few  examples  where  it  is 
inflicted  as  a  retribution  for  sin.  In  some  eases 
leprosy  is  the  means  of  chastisement :  thus  Miriam 
(Nu  12J0),  Gehazi  (2  K  S"),  and  Uzziah  (2  Ch  2621) 
were  smitten  with  this  disease  for  slander,  avarice, 
and  presumption  respectively.  Shameful  diseases 
are  the  result  of  foul  crimes  or  irreverence  (e.g.  'Er 
and  Onan,  Gn  387  etc.  ;  the  Philistines,  1  S  512'-) ; 
Pharaoh  (Gn  12")  and  his  household  were  afflicted 
with  plagues  on  account  of  the  abduction  of  Sarah  ; 
Abimelech  and  all  his  house  (Gn  2018)  were  smitten 
with  barrenness  for  the  same  cause ;  the  Sodom- 
ites were  struck  with  blindness  (Gn  19u)  for  their 
attack  on  Lot ;  and,  finally,  Job's  sickness  is 
ascribed  by  his  friends  to  his  sinfulness.  Glut- 
tony was  punished  by  gastric  plague  and  death  at 
Kibroth-hattaavah  (Nu  11s4),  and  in  the  Tokhehah, 
or  Rebuke  chapters  (Lv  2614  etc.,  Dt  28ls  etc.), 
various  diseases  are  enumerated  which  will  inevit- 
ably follow  disobedience  to  God's  word. 

Turning  to  the  NT,  we  may  trace  the  same  tend- 
ency. Thus  (1  Co  11s0)  those  who  receive  com- 
munion in  an  unworthy  manner  suffer  disease  in 
consequence.  Further,  there  is  the  opposite  case 
of  apparently  undeserved  blindness  (Jn  9lff-),  as  an 
explanation  of  which  the  possibility  of  sin  in  utero 
used  to  be  suggested  ;  and,  finally,  there  are  the 
instances  where  disease  is  said  to  be  due  to  Satanic 
agency  or  demoniac  possession  (Lk  1316,  Mk  917, 
Lk  11"). 

That  diseases  follow  sin  may  also  be  inferred 
negatively  from  such  passages  as  Ex  1526  ('if  thou 
wilt  surely  hearken  to  the  voice  of  the  Lord  .  .  . 
the  diseases  which  I  put  on  the  Egyptians  I  will  not 
put  on  thee,'  cf.  Dt  2860) ;  or  the  Fifth  Command- 
ment, where  longevity  is  the  reward  for  obedience 
to  parents  ;  or,  in  a  more  general  way,  Lv  185  ('Ye 
shall  keep  my  statutes  and  my  judgments  by 
doing  which  a  man  shall  live').1 

Although  these  and  similar  instances  are  capable 
of  being  classified  under  various  different  heads 
and  of  being  arranged  in  other  ways,  yet  it  is  by 
no  means  clear  that  alterations  would  produce 
any  re-adjustment  of  ideas  with  reference  to  the 
theory  of  disease.  It  is  not  safe  to  dogmatize  or 
to  differentiate  between  the  attitude  of  the  Penta- 
teuch and  the  Prophets ;  it  is  unwise  to  establish 
distinctions  of  time  or  place,  because  in  no  subject 
is  there  greater  scope  for  inconsistency.  The 
human  mind  hovers  between  the  Scylla  of  ascrib- 
ing disease  to  the  work  of  the  Deity,  and  the 
Charybdis  of  making  disease  accidental  and  so  in- 
dependent of  Divine  control,  by  which  circum- 
stance Divine  omnipotence  would  be  impugned. 
The  'golden  mean'  may  offer  a  workable  com- 
promise, but  it  will  not  often  bear  philosophic 
investigation.  The  Semites,  as  has  often  been 
shown,  identified  cause  and  effect.  Peullah  means 
both  reward  and  the  deed  which  merits  the  reward. 
Eatiath  means  both  sin  and  sin-offering.  The 
children  who  mocked  the  prophet  were  devoured  by 
bears  (2  K  223),  and  the  irresistible  conclusion  to 
be  drawn  was  post  hoc  ergo  propter  hoc.  The 
writer  of  the  Books  of  Kings  views  history  purely 
from  the  standpoint  of  morals ;  happiness  and 
misfortune,  health  and  disease,  are  the  result  of 
previous  conduct ;  and  insistence  on  this  theory  was 
the  sole  justification  for  the  study  of  history.  The 
adoption  of  this  attitude  was  conducive  to  a  belief 
in  free  will,  since  man  thus  had  the  power  and 
choice  of  avoiding  disease,  while  the  opposite 
theory,  which  made  disease  fortuitous,  led  to  pre- 
destination. To  such  an  extent  did  the  theory 
that    conduct    alone    is    responsible    for    disease 

1  See  Manasseh  ben  Israel's  Conciliator  (tr.  E.  H.  Lindo, 
London,  1842),  question  89,  p.  138,  question  104,  p.  164;  see 
also  pp.  2C,  114,  and  question  139,  p.  228. 


prevail  that  Asa  (2  Ch  1612)  is  blamed  because  '  in 
his  disease  he  sought  not  the  Lord  but  the 
physicians.' 

The  Deity,  then,  is  the  source  of  evil  as  well  as  of 
all  good,  since  He  is  omnipotent.  Yet  already  in 
early  times  it  was  felt  to  be  impious  to  ascribe 
misfortune  and  disease  directly  to  the  Godhead. 
Hence  all  manner  of  expedients  were  adopted  to 
avoid  such  a  position.  In  the  Books  of  Samuel 
'  the  spirit  of  God '  is  responsible  for  good  and 
happiness,  while  sickness  and  ill  were  wrought  by 
'a  spirit  from  (jind  nn)  God.'  This  was  largely 
developed  in  the  Targums  (cf.  Memra,  Logos,  etc.). 
There  is  no  escape  from  attacking  Divine  omni- 
potence, if  disease  is  independent  of  the  Godhead. 
Still  disinclination  to  ascribe  disease  to  God  grew 
and  gained  strength  from  the  earliest  times.  The 
example  of  Korah's  sons  is  a  case  in  point.  All 
the  guilty  parties  gather  together,  the  innocent 
are  warned  to  withdraw  from  their  company,  and 
finally  (Nu  26")  it  is  stated :  '  notwithstanding, 
the  sons  of  Koran  died  not.'  Still  stronger  in- 
stances occur  which  afford  negative  proof.  The 
wicked  cannot  involve  the  righteous  in  disease  and 
death,  but  the  righteous  can,  conversely,  deliver 
the  wicked.  Ten  good  men  can  save  Sodom  (Gn 
18s2) ;  punishment  extends  to  the  third  and  fourth 
generation  '  of  them  that  hate  me,'  while  loving- 
kindness  prevails  to  the  thousandth  generation 
(Ex  206-  6).  The  Middath  ha-Rahamim  (attribute 
of  mercy)  conquers  the  Middath  had-Din  (attribute 
of  justice).  Finally,  the  teaching  of  Job  and  of 
Ezekiel  established  the  idea  of  individual  responsi- 
bility, and  the  doctrine  that  suffering  and  disease 
are  not  necessarily  the  consequence  of  wrong- 
doing. 

2.  Rabbinical. — In  considering  Rabbinic  litera- 
ture it  will  be  found  that  the  same  tendencies  may 
be  traced  and  the  same  stages  observed.  We  are 
brought  back  to  earlier  views  such  as  may  be  found 
in  the  Pentateuch  and  Former  Prophets,  and, 
seemingly,  the  teaching  of  Job  and  Ezekiel  is 
completely  gone.  It  will,  therefore,  suffice  to 
adduce  a  limited  number  of  instances.  In  the 
first  place,  slander  is  responsible  for  many  diseases  : 
this  may  be  seen  most  clearly  in  Lev.  Rabba  xviii. 
4  (ed.  E.  Schraentzel,  Stettin,  1863,  p.  29,  fol.  15a, 
outer  col.  lines  Iff.) : 

'  There  was  Jidrutk  (engraving)  on  the  tablets  of  stone  [Ex  3216], 
Read  not  lidruth  but  lieruth  (freedom).  Freedom  from  what? 
.  .  .  from  chastisements  .  .  .  R.  Simeon  b.  Yohai  says,  at  the 
hour  when  Israel  stood  at  Sinai  and  said  (Ex  24")  "  All  that  the 
Lord  hath  said  we  will  do  and  obey,"  there  was  not  among  them 
either  one  with  an  unclean  issue  or  a  leper  or  cripple  or  blind 
or  dumb  or  deaf  or  mad :  concerning  that  hour  is  it  said  (Ca 
47)  :  "  Entirely  fair  art  thou,  O  my  companion,  neither  is  there 
blemish  in  thee."  When  they  sinned,  not  many  days  passed 
when  there  were  found  among  them  those  with  unclean  issues 
and  lepers.  About  that  hour  it  is  said  (Nu  S2-4),  "  And  they 
dismissed  from  the  camp  every  leper,  etc."  Henceforward 
Israel  was  liable  to  issues  and  leprosy.  R.  Huna  .  .  .  says  .  .  . 
leprosy  came  for  slander  ...  to  teach  thee  that  plagues  come 
only  in  consequence  of  slander.  .  .  .'  [The  whole  passage 
should  be  studied.] 

In  the  Mehhilta  on  Ex  238  (ed.  I.  H.  Weiss, 
Vienna,  1865,  p.  106a,  top)  acceptance  of  bribes  is 
said,  on  the  basis  of  the  Scriptural  verse,  to  lead 
to  blindness : 

1  Every  one  who  accepts  money  to  pervert  justice  (or  even  to 
execute  justice)  will  not  leave  the  world  until  he  is  bereft  of  his 
eyesight.  According  to  R.- Nathan,  one  of  three  things  will 
befall  him  :  he  will  lose  his  knowledge  of  the  Torah,  so  that  he 
will  declare  unclean  clean,  or  declare  clean  unclean,  or  he  will 
be  in  need  of  human  aid,  or  he  will  lose  his  eyesight.' 

A  similar  thought  is  expressed  in  the  parallel 
passage  in  Siphre  to  Dt  1618  (ed.  M.  Friedmann, 
Vienna,  1864,  §144),  towards  the  end  of  the  section. 
The  Mehhilta  to  Ex  1526  (fol.  54a)  should  also  be 
regarded.  This  thought  may  be  followed  in  a  more 
extended  form  in  Bab.  'Eruhhin  fol.  16a,  where 
R.  Johanan  (quoted  by  R.  Samuel  b.  Nahmani) 
says  : 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Persian) 


757 


'  Plagues  come  for  seven  sins,  for  bloodshed,  perjury,  un- 
chastity,  pride,  embezzlement,  pitilessness,  and  slander,  as  it  is 
said  (Ps  lOP),  "  him  who  slanders  his  neighbour  secretly,  hiui 
will  I  cut  off.  .  ,  ." ' 

The  following  verses  are  then  cited  to  prove 
each  case  respectively  :  2  S  329,  2  K  5*-  «,  Gn  12", 
2  Ch  2616,  Lv  1436-  M.  See  also  Aboth  v.  11  (Singer's 
Prayer  Book6,  London,  1900,  p.  200)  : 

1  Seven  kinds  of  punishment  come  into  the  world  for  seven 
important  transgressions.  If  some  give  tithes  and  others  do 
not,  a  dearth  ensues  from  drought,  and  some  suffer  hunger 
while  others  are  full.  If  they  all  determine  to  give  no  tithes, 
a  dearth  ensues  from  tumult  and  drought.  If  they  further 
resolve  not  to  give  the  dough-cake  (Nu  15"°),  an  exterminating 
dearth  ensues.  Pestilence  comes  into  the  world  to  fulfil  those 
death  penalties  threatened  in  the  Torah,  the  execution  of  which, 
however,  is  not  within  the  function  of  a  human  tribunal.  .  .  . 
At  four  periods  pestilence  grows  apace :  in  the  fourth  year,  in 
the  seventh,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  seventh  year,  and  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles  in  each  year ;  in  the 
fourth  year,  for  default  of  giving  the  tithe  to  the  poor  in  the 
third  year  (Dt  14^-9) ;  in  the  seventh  year,  for  default  of  giving 
the  tithe  to  the  poor  in  the  sixth  year  ;  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
seventh  year,  for  the  violation  of  the  law  regarding  the  fruits 
of  the  seventh  year  ;  and  at  the  conclusion  of  the  Feast  of  Taber- 
nacles in  each  year,  for  robbing  the  poor  of  the  grants  legally 
assigned  to  them' (i.e.  gleanings,  forgotten  sheaves,  corners  of 
the  field  [Lv  199,  Dt  2419]). 

The  death  of  women  at  childbirth  is  due  to  three 
sins, 

'  because  they  have  been  negligent  in  regard  to  their  periods 
of  separation,  in  respect  to  the  consecration  of  the  first  cake  of 
the  dough  and  in  the  lighting  of  the  Sabbath  lamp '  (Mishn. 
Shabb.  ii.  6  [Singer's  Prayer  Book,  p.  121]). 

The  effect  of  sin  (yeser  ha-ra)  on  man  and  on  the 
creation  generally  is  to  cause  great  disfigurement, 
and  mysterious  diseases  are  due  to  sin.  The 
passage  from  Bereshith  Babba  and  elsewhere 
dealing  with  this  point  may  be  studied  in  F.  R. 
Tennant's  Sources  of  .  .  .  Original  Sin,  ch.  vii.  if. 

Finally,  R.  Ami  says  : 

'There  is  no  death  without  sin,  and  there  is  no  chastisement 
without  crime  '  (Bab.  Shabb.  66a  foot).  This  passage  should  be 
carefully  studied. 

Outside  the  immediate  range  of  the  Talmud  and 
Midrashim  the  idea  may  be  traced  frequently  ; 
e.g.  Sir  3122  (p.  24,  ed.  Strack,  Leipzig,  1903) :  '  In 
all  thy  actions  be  modest,  that  no  misfortune  be- 
fall thee ' ;  or  Judah  hal-Levi's  Kitdb  al-Khazari, 
pt.  ii.  §  58  : 

( It  was  one  of  the  wonderful  traits  of  God  that  His  displeasure 
for  minor  transgressions  was  shown  on  the  walls  of  houses  and 
in  the  clothes,  whilst  for  more  grievous  sins  the  bodies  were 
more  or  less  severely  stricken '  (p.  119,  ed.  Hirschfeld,  1905 : 
see  the  whole  paragraph). 

II.  MEDICINE. — Connected  with  the  question 
of  disease  is  the  question  of  cure.  The  function 
of  the  priest  as  physician  is  clearly  laid  down  in 
the  Pentateuch ;  he  enjoys  far  greater  authority 
than  the  surgeon  mentioned  in  Hammurabi's  Code, 
probably  because  his  sphere  of  treatment  was  more 
limited  :  in  Assyria  surgical  operations  seem  to 
have  been  undertaken  more  commonly.  The 
Rabbis  declared  that  it  was  a  positive  command- 
ment (nB^  n?sp)  for  a  man  to  get  himself  cured, 
on  the  basis  of  Ex  2119  (see  also  Rashi,  in  loc.). 
Healing  as  a  result  of  special  prayer  occurs  re- 
peatedly in  the  Bible.  According  to  the  Rabbis, 
all  healing  is  a  miracle,  and  repentance  will  effect 
a  cure.     Thus  Bab.  Nedartm  41re  declares  : 

'  No  sick  man  can  recover  from  his  disease  until  his  sins  are 
forgiven  .  .  .  greater  is  the  miracle  performed  to  a  sick  man  by 
his  restoration  to  health  than  that  wrought  to  Hananiah,  Mishael, 
and  Azariah  (Dn  312ff-).  For  their  fire  was  earthly  and  any 
mortal  could  quench  it,  whereas  that  of  the  sick  man  is  from 
heaven  and  defies  human  hand '  (see  also  further). 

So,  too,  the  Palestinian  Rabbis  denied  that 
demons  could  cause  or  cure  disease  (see  Demons 
and  Spirits  [Jewish]),  for  disease  came  from  God 
without  reference  to  their  agency  (see  also  S. 
Schechter,  Fragment  of  a  Zadokite  Work,  Cam- 
bridge, 1910,  p.  1,  ch.  xiv.  p.  12,  line  3).  On  the 
other  hand,  a  man  must  not  avoid  sin  on  that 
account  alone. 

'  A  man  must  not  say,  "  I  will  abstain  from  forbidden  foods  in 
order  to  strengthen  my  body  and  avoid  disease,  but  in  order  to 
do  the  will  of  my  Father  in  heaven."  ' 

The  technical  nature  of  cures  recommended  by 


the  Rabbis  does  not  fall  within  the  scope  of  the 
present  article.  Cures  by  prayer  were  frequent. 
See  Mishn.  Berakhoth,  v.  3  (p.  10,  ed.  Staerk, 
Lietzmann's  series,  Bonn,  1910) : 

'  R.  Hanina  b.  Dosa  used  to  pray  over  the  sick  and  used  to 
say,  "Such  a  one  will  live,"  "Such  a  one  will  die."  They  said 
to  him,  "  Whence  knowest  thou  V  "  ;  he  replied,  "  If  my  prayer  is 
fluent  in  my  mouth,  I  know  that  it  will  be  received."  .  .  .'' 

Reference  may  also  be  made  to  «S?1  (Singer's 
Prayer  Book,  p.  47  ;  partly  also  on  p.  16,  §  8  of  no. 
58  of  Lietzmann's  series,  Altjiid.  Gebete,  Bonn, 
1910) ;  to  ^p'un  rc-p  (p.  148  top)  ;  to  the  D'1?™  vhsv,  or 
therapeutic  use  of  Psalms  (see  also  art.  Charms 
and  Amulets  [Jewish]) ;  and  to  the  extremely 
beautiful  prayer  before  reciting  the  Psalms  in 
cases  of  sickness.1  The  prayer  deserves  careful 
study.  It  must  be  observed  that,  although  the 
Rabbis  fully  believed  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer, 
they  did  not,  as  the  Christian  Scientists  do,  deny 
the  existence  of  disease  or  the  power  of  drugs. 
The  Essenes,  for  example,  according  to  Philo, 
joined  the  care  of  the  body  to  that  of  the  soul  by 
avoiding  cities  :  'just  as  foul  air  breeds  disease,  so 
there  is  danger  of  contracting  an  incurable  disease 
of  the  soul  from  .  .  .  bad  associations '  ( Quod  omnis 
probus  liber,  §  12,  cited  in  JE  v.  227,  foot,  inner 
column). 

The  principle  of  '  measure  for  measure,'  fitting 
the  punishment  to  the  sin  (rnrp  inp  rrjp  or  oik&  rnp? 
iS  p-niD  us  "niD),  was  strongly 'held  by' the  Rabbis,' as 
may  be  seen  from  the  extracts  cited  above,  but,  in 
spite  of  this,  the  solution  of  the  problem  was  found 
in  the  theory  of  ."nnjj  ty  ]"~pb\,  '  chastisements  of 
love'  ('whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth '), 
and  this  is,  of  course,  the  real  solution  of  the 
whole  problem  of  evil :  man's  inability  to  realize 
that  what  is  to  him  evil  or  misfortune  need  not  In 
reality  be  so.  See  Mishn.  Berakhoth,  ix.  5  (p.  17, 
ed.  Staerk,  Bonn,  1910,  Lietzmann's  series) : 

'131  ,-™  Sj?  ^IND  S;^  '  With  all  thy  might  [read  not  iqxp 
but  nip] ;  for  every  measure  (good  or  evil)  which  He  meteth  to 
thee,  thank  Him.' 

Misfortune  is  not  necessarily  evil,  nor  is  disease 
necessarily  the  outcome  of  sin.  Man  cannot  always 
distinguish  good  from  evil,  and  his  mind  has  not 
the  power  of  perception,  beyond  a  certain  well- 
defined  limit.  '  From  the  mouth  of  the  Lord  shall 
there  not  proceed  both  evil  and  good  ? '  (La  3s8).  '  I 
the  Lord  make  peace  and  create  evil '  (Is  457).  The 
inability  of  man  to  comprehend  the  Divine  scheme 
for  the  government  of  the  universe  leads  him  to 
erroneous  conclusions  as  to  the  nature  of  evil  and 
the  origin  of  disease.  This  was  the  generally 
accepted  conclusion. 

LlTBRATrntB. — JE,  art.  ( Medicine ' ;  art.  Charms  and  Amulets 
(Jewish)  in  the  present  work ;  Hamburger,  art.  '  Krankheiten ' ; 
Maimonides,  Guide,  chs.  on  the  '  Evils,'  pt.  iii.  etc.  (see  Fried- 
lander's  tr.,  London,  1904)  ;  S.  Schechter,  Aspects  of  Rabbinic 
Theology,  London,  1910,  ch.  xiv.  etc.  ;  C.  G.  Montefiore,  art. 
'Retribution,'  in  JQR,  vol.  v.,  July  1893;  F.  R.  Tennant, 
Sources  of  .  .  .  Original  Sin,  Cambridge,  1903,  ch.  vii.  etc.  ;  S. 
Levy,  '  Doctrine  of  Original  Virtue,'  in  Orig.  Virt.  and.  Other 
Studies,  London,  1907  ;  F.  Weber,  Jud.  Theol.i,  Leipzig,  1897. 

Herbert  Loewe. 

DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Persian).- The 
doctrines  concerning  bodily  diseases  and  their  treat- 
ment by  medical  art  form  a  very  considerable  part 
of  the  Avestan  system.  In  strict  accordance  with 
the  dualistic  conception  of  the  universe,  bodily 
disease  and  its  treatment  by  medical  art  correspond 
exactly  with  sin,  regarded  as  a  spiritual  malady, 
and  its  treatment  by  religious  exercises  conceived 
as  an  ethical  or  spiritual  medicine.  Similarly, 
owing  to  the  dualistic  division  of  the  universe  into 
a  good  and  an  evil  creation,  all  bodily  diseases  are 
expressly  declared  to  be  creations  of  the  Evil  Spirit 
(see  under  art.  Dualism).  In  Vend.  xxii.  Ahura 
Mazda  declares  that  Aura  Mainyu  created  99,999 
diseases  (a  fanciful  number,  like  that  of  the  Hindu 

1  Both  of  the  last-named  items  may  be  seen  at  the  end  of 
Heidenlieim's  ed.  of  the  Psalms,  Koedelheim,  ISO- 


758 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Persian) 


gods),  which  are  variously  estimated,  however,  as 
90,000  in  the  Gujarati  translation,  or  as  10,000 
(Bund.  ix.  4),  or  even  as  low  as  4333  (Dlnkart,  ed. 
Peshotan,  vol.  iv.  cap.  157.  41,  43).  A  considerable 
number  of  names  of  diseases  are  preserved  in 
various  parts  of  the  Avesta,  and  have  been  care- 
fully collected  and  discussed,  especially  by  Geiger 
in  his  Ostlrdn.  Kultur  ;  but  most  of  the  names  are 
decidedly  obscure,  and  little  improvement  has  been 
made  since  Geiger's  study ;  even  Bartholomae's 
great  lexicon  throws  no  further  light  upon  the 
terms  used. 

It  is  fairly  certain,  however,  that  we  may  find  in  them  fevers 
(tafnu,  dazhu),  and  diseases  of  the  head  (sdrasti,  sdrama).  As 
skin  diseases  were  and  still  are  a  special  scourge  of  the  Iranian 
countries,  we  naturally  expect  to  find  mention  of  leprosy,  and 
as  a  matter  of  fact  this  dread  disease  apparently  (in  spite  of  de 
Harlez's  ytriking  argument  to  the  contrary)  is  indicated  by  the 
term  paeso  vitareto  tanus  ( Vend.  ii.  85 ;  Yt.  v.  92),  probably 
'  leprosy  which  segregates  the  body '  (cf .  Pahlavi  peseh,  Pazend 
pisk,  Mod.  Pers.  pes,  Kurdish  pisi).  In  pdman  (Yt.  xiv.  48)  we 
may  see  either  leprosy,  according  to  the  general  interpretation, 
or  itch  (S.  E.  Dubash),  which  is  probably  also  indicated  by 
(jarenu.  Among  other  terms,  more  or  less  obscure,  the  identi- 
fication of  which  is  largely  conjectural,  vdvereshi  (Yt.  xiii.  131) 
probably  indicates  a  venereal  disease ;  tafnu  .  .  .  tanuye 
zoishnuj/e  (Vend.  vii.  173)  may  be  puerperal  fever  ;  skendd  (ib. 
v.  160)  may  indicate  a  rupture  ;  aghbsti  (ib.  vii.  145)  and  vazem- 
twasti  (ib.  xx.  9,  11)  most  probably  Bignify  rickets  and  caries  of 
the  bone ;  duruka  (ib.  xx.  14,  20)  almost  certainly  calculus ; 
kurughd  (ib.)  seems  to  be  the  Modern  Persian  kuru,  carbuncle 
(Houtum-Schindler,  ZDMG  xxxvii.  [1883]  54  ft.).  In  dstairya 
we  seem  to  have  the  name  of  some  eruptive  disease,  like  small- 
pox or  measles.  Among  a  number  of  hitherto  quite  unidentified 
terms,  three  beginning  with  azh-  in  all  probability  refer  to 
diseases  caused  by  snake-bite. 

The  origin  of  the  art  of  medicine  as  recorded  in 
the  Avesta  is  supernatural,  and  associated  with 
the  name  of  the  hero  Thrita,  who,  according  to  the 
Vendldad,  was  the  first  physician,  '  the  first  of 
those  heroic,  active,  benevolent  men,  with  magic 
power,  brilliant,  powerful,  before  the  giving  of  the 
Law,  who  made  the  various  diseases  cease.'  He 
besought  Ahura  Mazda  for  a  remedy  against 
poisons  (vish-citrem,  or  perhaps  '  eine  von  Gift- 
pflanzen  stammende  Arznei '  [Geiger]),  and  a  metal 
knife  (for  surgical  operations).  Ahura  Mazda 
narrates  that  he  gave  him  thousands  and  millions 
of  medical  plants,  among  them  the  mysterious 
gaokerena,  the  later  gbkart  tree,  the  source  of  all 
medicines  (Vend.  xx.  1-17).  The  Yashts  appear 
to  confound  this  Thrita  with  Thraetaona,  whose 
name  seems  to  be  a  patronymic  derived  from  the 
former — for  hisfravashi  is  invoked  againstdiseases. 
Darmesteter  quotes  Hamza  as  stating  that  Faridun 
(i.e.  Thraetaona)  was  the  inventor  of  medicine,  and 
adds  that  the  Modern  Persian  amulets  against 
disease  bear  the  name  of  Faridun  (see  Charms  and 
Amulets  [Iran.],  vol.  iii.  p.  449").  Moreover,  the 
genius  Airyaman  (apparently  the  personification 
of  prayer)  is  also  intimately  connected  with  the 
medical  art.  Ahura  Mazda  calls  him  to  come  and 
expel  disease  and  death  ( Vend.  xxii. ,  xxiii. ).  Later 
on,  in  the  Pahlavi  Dlnkart  he  becomes  the  tutelary 
genius  of  physicians,  to  whom  he  gives  miraculous 
help  to  cure  men's  bodies.  As  we  shall  see,  prayer 
was  always  regarded  as  the  most  efficacious  of 
remedies. 

The  commonest  term  to  indicate  indifferently  '  medicine,' 
'  healing,' '  medicaments/or '  physician,'  is  baeshaza,  correspond- 
ing to  the  Skr.  bhishaj,  bhsshaja.  In  Pahlavi  we  find  this  word 
as  beshaj,  but  more  commonly  under  the  curiously  inverted 
form  bijishak,  as  in  Modern  Persian  and  in  the  Armen.  words 
bzhishk,  '  phyBieian,'  and  bzhshkel,  '  heal.' 

The  Avesta  attributes  great  importance  to  the 
threefold  division  of  medicine  according  to  the 
means  employed  :  kereta,  the  knife  ;  urvara,  herbs  ; 
mahthra,  formula — as  we  should  say,  surgery, 
medicine,  and  prayer.  This  is  also  the  well-known 
division  of  the  Greeks :  Pindar,  speaking  of 
Asklepios,  says  (PytK.  iii.  91-95) : 

•     •    •    TOVS  lieV  /ifiAdfiuK 

TOuff  Se  Trpoo~ai<e'a,  jri- 

vovras,  >)  -yvt'ois  fl-epam-toe  wavTodey 
<!>ap^uK<>    Toil?  5e  TO/iais  etrraatv  6p0ovf. 


As  Pindar  gives  the  first  place  to  eVaoioaf,  so  the 
Avesta  esteems  the  cure  by  prayer  or  conjuration 
the  best  of  all ;  so  that  the  prayer-physician 
(mahthro-baeshaza)  is  called  '  the  physician  of 
physicians.'  In  fact,  the  Manthra  Spenta,  or  sacred 
formula,  is  personified  and  invoked  as  a  genius : 
'  Heal  me,  O  Manthra  Spenta,  O  brilliant  one ! ' 
It  is  Ahura  Mazda  himself  who  speaks,  and  promises 
thousands  of  camels,  oxen,  and  sheep  ( Vend.  xxii. 
7-10).  This  mahthra  is  not  prayer  in  our  sense, 
but  a  con  juratory  formula,  as  employed  so  often 
among  Eastern  peoples.  Homer,  too,  shows  it  as 
employed  together  with  surgical  treatment : 

tuTeiAr/v  5'  'OSucnjos  apvju.oi'OS,  aVTifleoio, 
Srj(rav  eimrTaixevus'  eiraoiSj}  5'  aljua  tcekatvbv 
ivXeOov  (Od.  xix.  456-8). 

There  is  an  excellent  specimen  of  these  conjura- 
tory formulaein  Vend.  xx.  7 :  ' Iconjure  thee,  disease ! 
I  conjure  thee,  death  !    I  conjure  thee,   burning ! 

I  conjure  thee,  fever !  I  conjure  thee,  headache ! 
...  I  conjure  thee,  smallpox  (?) ! '  There  is  a 
striking  analogy  between  these  conjurations  and 
those  employed  by  the  Akkadians  (Lenormant, 
Chaldean  Magic,  Eng.  tr.,  1877,  pp.  4,  20,  260). 
These  formulae,  as  with  the  Greeks  and  Hindus, 
may,  like  so  many  other  elements  in  the  Avesta, 
be  derived  from  an  earlier  population  (perhaps 
Turanian)  absorbed  by  the  Aryans.1  The  genius 
of  metals,  Khshathra  Vairya,  is  said  to  have  given 
the  first  physician,  Thrita,  a  knife  with  a-  golden 
point  for  surgical  operations  (cf.  Vend.  xx.  3). 
Careful  instructions  are  given  for  the  training  and 
examination  of  surgeons  and  physicians,  based  on 
the  principle  of  experimentum  in  corpore  vili.  The 
candidate  is  to  practise,  not  on  a  Mazdsean,  but 
on  a  cfaeTO-worshipper,  that  is,  the  follower  of  any 
other  religion.  Should  he  operate  upon  one  such 
with  fatal  result,  and  again  a  second  and  a  third 
time,  he  is  declared  incapable  for  ever  of  practising 
either  medicine  or  surgery.  Should  he  persevere 
and  injure  a  Mazdasan,  he  is  held  guilty  of  a  crime 
equivalent  to  homicide.  After  three  successful 
experiments,  however,  he  is  considered  a  fully 
qualified  medical  man  (Vend.  vii.  95-104).  A 
serious  view  was  taken  of  a  physician's  duties  :  he 
must  make  all  speed  to  visit  his  patients ;  if  the 
disease  attack  one  at  nightfall,  he  must  hasten  to 
arrive  by  the  second  watch  ;  if  at  the  second  watch, 
he  must  arrive  by  midnight ;  if  during  the  night, 
then  by  daybreak  ( Vend.  xxi.  9-11).  The  fees  of 
the  physician  are  minutely  regulated  according  to 
the  rank  of  the  patient.  A  priest  pays  only  by 
liturgical  prayers  and  blessings.  The  payment  for 
the  various  chiefs  of  a  household,  a  village,  a  clan, 
or  a  province,  are  respectively  an  ass,  a  horse,  a 
camel,  and  a  yoke  of  four  horses ;  whilst,  for  the 
wives,  female  animals  corresponding  are  required. 
It  would  appear  that  later  on  these  fees  were 
changed  into  monetary  payments :  the  Pahlavi 
commentator  estimates  the  prayers  paid  by  the 
priest  at  3000  stirs  (Gr.  o-rcmyp),  whilst  the  yoke  of 
four  horses  is  valued  at  70  stirs.  It  may  be 
remarked  that  the  Avestan  physician  was  also  a 
veterinary  surgeon,  for  a  scale  of  charges  is  also 
fixed  for  the  treatment  of  cattle,  great  and  small 
(Vend.  vii.  105-117),  and  it  is  distinctly  said  that 
the  same  means  must  be  employed  for  the  cure  of 
a  rabid  dog  as  for  one  of  the  faithful  (ib.  xiii.  97-99). 

Turning  now  to  the  later  Pahlavi  literature,  we 
find  the  whole  subject  of  the  art  of  medicine  most 
fully  and  systematically  treated  in  an  interest- 
ing tractate  incorporated  in  that  encyclopaedic 
work,  the  Dlnkart,  and  forming  ch.  157  of  bk.  iii. 
printed  in  vol.  iv.  of  Peshotan's  edition  (Bombay, 

II  vols.,  1874-1910).  It  is  by  far  the  most  con- 
siderable chapter  of  the  whole  work.     It  falls  into 

1  An  amusing  remark  by  a  more  recent  Parsi  commentator 
quoted  by  Darmesteter  (note  to  Vend.  vii.  120)  is  thus  naively 
expressed :  '  He  may  not  oure,  but  he  will  do  no  harm  1 ' 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Teutonic) 


759 


four  distinct  parts:  (1)  medicine,  (2)  the  medical 
man,  (3)  diseases,  (4)  remedies. 

It  is  curious  to  remark  that  Hindu  medical  science  also 
distinguished  the  '  four  feet '  (pdda)  of  medicine,  which,  how- 
ever, were  reckoned  as :  the  physician,  disease,  medicine,  the 
nurse ;  while  Hippocrates  has  a  threefold  division  :  ^  rexvy  5ia\ 
rptiov,  to  votr^na,  6  yoo-eW,  «ai  6  iTjrpti?  (de  Morb.  Vulg.  i.  1). 

The  author  begins  by  defining  the  basis  or 
foundation  {bun)  and  the  necessity  of  medicine, 
which  is,  of  course,  owing  to  the  action  of  the  Evil 
Spirit.  He  next  distinguishes  between  spiritual 
and  material  medicine,  and  again  between  general 
and  individual  medicine — the  former  apparently 
applying  to  the  maintenance  of  the  public  health, 
and  the  latter  to  that  of  individual  patients.  It  is 
curious  that,  whilst  on  the  whole  following  the 
medical  system  of  the  Avesta  as  above  described, 
the  Dinkart  recognizes  five,  instead  of  three,  means 
of  healing,  viz.  formulae,  fire,  herbs,  acids,  and 
the  knife.  Another  interesting  distinction  is  that 
of  prophylactic  medicine  (or  hygiene,  as  we  should 
say)  for  the  preservation  of  health,  and  curative 
medicine  for  the  healing  of  disease.  In  accordance 
with  this,  two  kinds  of  practitioners  are  also 
distinguished  :  the  drulstopat,  '  master  of  health ' 
(as  we  might  say,  officer  of  health),  and  the  bijishak, 
'  healer, '  or  doctor.  In  the  section  specially  devoted 
to  the  physician  several  questions  are  treated. 
The  supreme  chief  of  corporal  medicine  is  the 
Sovereign  (i.e.  the  king) ;  of  spiritual  medicine,  the 
Zaratkustrotema,  or  supreme  high  priest.  The 
matter  (mato)  on  which  the  physician  exercises  his 
art  is  defined  to  be,  for  the  spiritual  physician, 
the  human  soul  endowed  with  a  body ;  for  the 
corporal  physician,  the  human  body  endowed  with 
a  soul.  The  reciprocal  action  of  body  and  soul  is 
then  discussed  with  considerable  skill,  and  corre- 
sponds pretty  much  with  our  idea  of  mens  sana  in 
corpore  sano.  The  description  of  a  perfect  physician 
of  the  body  is  worth  quoting : 

1  He  should  know  the  limbs  of  the  body,  their  articulations  ; 
remedies  for  the  disease  ;  should  possess  his  own  carriage  and 
an  assistant ;  should  be  amiable,  without  jealousy,  gentle  in 
word,  free  from  haughtiness ;  an  enemy  to  disease,  but  the 
friend  of  the  sick ;  respecting  modesty,  free  from  crime,  from 
injury,  from  violence^  expeditious;  the  right  hand  of  the 
widow;  noble  in  action;  protecting  good  reputation;  not 
acting  for  gain,  but  for  a  spiritual  reward ;  ready  to  listen ; 
having  become  a  physician  by  favour  of  Aryaman  ;  possessed  of 
authority  and  philanthropy ;  skilled  to  prepare  health-giving 
plants  medically,  in  order  to  deliver  the  body  from  disease,  to 
expel  corruption  and  impurity  ;  to  further  peace  and  multiply 
the  delights  of  life '  (§  19). 

The  regulations  for  the  probation  of  the  medical 
candidate  are  the  same  as  those  we  have  quoted 
from  the  Avesta,  whilst,  as  for  fees,  the  treatise 
simply  refers  to  the  sacred  text.  In  the  third  part 
we  meet  the  statement  that  there  are  two  funda- 
mental maladies,  denominated/arae but  and  aibibut, 
which  seem  to  indicate  rather  some  forms  of  moral 
evil,  but  their  explanation  is  extremely  obscure, 
although  the  words  occur  in  several  treatises.  The 
Evil  Spirit  (Ganak  Minoi)  is  the  cause  of  all  evils, 
both  of  soul  and  body — for  the  former,  of  every 
kind  of  vice  and  evil  passion ;  for  the  latter,  of 
cold,  dryness,  evil  odour,  corruption,  hunger,  thirst, 
old  age,  pain,  '  and  all  other  causes  of  malady  and 
death.'  The  number  of  diseases  is  given  as  4333  ; 
their  names  are  simply  those  of  the  Avesta  in  a 
slightly  altered  form.  One  interesting  division  of 
maladies  is  that  which  divides  corporal  diseases 
into  voluntary  (such  as  venereal  disease)  and 
involuntary  (such  as  fevers) ;  whilst  the  diseases 
of  the  vital  principle  (jano)  are  distinguished  as 
vices  tending  forward  (e.g.  passion  and  anger)  and 
those  tending  backward  (e.g.  idleness). 

The  fourth  and  last  part  of  the  treatise  may 
be  styled  therapeutic.  The  number  of  remedies 
derived  from  the  vegetable  kingdom  is  said  to  be 
seventy,  and  they  are  divided  again  into  those 
which  are  by  nature  beneficent,  and  those  which  of 
their  nature  are  poisonous,  but  may  be  so  treated  as 


to  become  medicinal.  As  an  example  of  the  former 
is  given  the  myrobalan  of  Cabul— the  only  plant 
which  is  mentioned.  The  miraculous  (rajdato) 
trees,  the  Gokart  and  the  white  Horn — here  clearly 
distinguished  from  one  another — are  referred  to  as 
sources  of  healing.  Health  is  next  divided  into 
two  kinds — health  of  the  soul  and  health  of  the 
body ;  and  the  various  oppositions  between  the 
powers  of  the  former  and  certain  vices  co-existent 
and  yet  hostile  are  detailed  at  length.  In  the 
whole  passage  we  have  a  well-sustained  distinction 
between  the  hamestarik  (diametrically  opposed, 
contradictory,  excluding  the  opposite)  and  the  bra- 
tarvato  (co-existent  but  hostile) ;  and  the  passage 
entirely  confirms  the  sense  of  this  latter  difficult 
word  which  the  present  writer  propounded  in  the 
Academy,  xxvi.  [1884]  397.  A  similar  distinction 
is  then  made  between  the  elements  of  the  body 
and  the  hostile  forces,  cold  and  dryness,  produced 
by  the  Evil  Spirit — a  veritable  bellum  intestinum 
between  the  four  elementary  qualities  as  described 
by  Galen  and  other  early  medical  writers.  Curi- 
ously enough,  however,  with  the  Iranians  the 
position  of  dryness  and  moisture  is  reversed,  dry- 
ness and  cold  being  together  reckoned  among  evil 
qualities — an  inversion,  no  doubt,  to  be  explained 
by  the  rarity  and  consequent  vast  importance  of 
humidity  in  ancient  Iran.  The  action  of  the  blood, 
of  food,  and  of  moderation  are  next  explained,  as 
well  as  the  necessary  interdependence  of  spiritual 
and  corporal  medicine. 

An  interesting  question  is  that  of  the  relations 
between  Iranian  medicine  and  that  of  India  and 
Greece.  The  researches  of  Haas  (ZDMG  xxx., 
xxxi.)  and  Miiller  (ib.  xxxiv.)  have  conclusively 
shown  the  great  influence  exercised  by  Greek 
medicine  on  the  Hindus,  and  a  question  of  the 
latter  writer  deserves  our  attention  here  : 

'A  fact  which  concerns  not  Indianists,  but  rather  students 
of  Middle-Persian  and  Arabic  literature,  is  this — it  may  be 
deduced  from  the  Arabic  texts  that  it  is  worth  while  inquiring 
by  what  road  Indian  medical  literature  reached  the  Muham- 
madans.  We  know  that  Indian  tales  reached  the  realms  of  the 
Chalifs  through  the  Pahlavi :  is  it  not  therefore  obvious  to 
suppose  the  same  road  for  medical  science?'  (see  also  J.  Jolly, 
'  Medicin,'  GIAP  iii.  10,  pp.  17-19). 

We  have  indicated  above  certain  parallelisms 
between  Iranian  medical  theories  and  those  of  the 
Greeks,  though  none  of  them  can  be  considered 
very  decided.  History,  however,  bears  out  the 
probability  of  such  influence  of  Greek  medicine 
upon  Persian.  Greek  physicians  are  to  be  found 
at  all  epochs  at  the  courts  of  Iranian  sovereigns. 
Such  was  the  case  even  under  the  Achsemenians  : 
we  need  cite  only  Demokedes  under  Darius  I.,  the 
famous  Ctesias,  and  Apollonides  mentioned  by 
the  latter.  Spiegel  thinks  it  probable  that  in 
populous  cities  foreign  physicians  often  competed 
with  native  ones.  Under  the  Sasanians,  too,  we 
find  Greek  physicians  at  the  royal  court,  and 
Spiegel  is  of  opinion  that  Indian  physicians  made 
their  way  there  also  (Erdn.  Alterth.,  Leipzig,  1878, 
iii.  582). 

Literature. — W.  Geiger,  Ostirdn.  Kultur  im  Altertum, 
Erlangen,  1882,  pp.  391-399;  L.  C.  Casartelli,  TraiU  de 
me'dccine  mazdtenne  traduit  du  Pehlevi  et  comments,  Louvain, 
1886,  also  La  Philosophie  religieuse  du  mazdUsme  sow  les 
Sassanides,  Louvain,  18S4  (Eng.  tr.,  Bombay,  1889);  S.  E. 
Dubash,  The  Zoroastrian  Sanitary  Code,  Bombay,  1906 — a 
skilful  attempt,  by  a  highly  qualified  Parsi  medical  man,  to 
bring  the  Avestan  medical  and  hygienic  system  into  correlation 
with  modern  European  medical  science,  and  '  to  show  m.y 
educated  co-religionists  how  well  the  laws  of  the  Vendidad, 
enacted  for  the  preservation  of  health  and  for  the  observance  of 
the  purity  of  things,  are  in  harmony  with  the  laws  of  hygiene 
and  the  principles  of  the  science  of  medicine.' 

L.  C.  Casaetelli. 
DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Teutonic).— 
I.  Disease. — Nothing  made  so  powerful  an  im- 
pression upon  the  feelings  of  primitive  man  as  the 
phenomena  of  disease  and  death.  Whether  the 
end  came  as  the  inevitable  result  of  a  prolonged 


760 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Teutonic) 


struggle,  or  whether  it  befell  with  startling  sudden- 
ness in  the  heyday  of  life — in  either  case  the 
terror-stricken  mind  was  forced  to  face  the  ques- 
tion as  to  the  cause  and  origin  of  the  dread  occur- 
rence. 

Death  from  loss  of  blood  and  death  by  strangu- 
lation were  of  course  more  or  less  familiar  incidents 
of  the  chase  and  of  war.  But  what  mysterious 
power  was  it  that  suddenly  opened  the  veins  with- 
in the  body,  and  brought  a  comrade's  life  to  an  end 
by  haemorrhage ;  or,  again,  obstructed  the  air- 
passages  from  within,  and  thus  caused  the  hale 
and  hearty  youth  to  perish  by  suffocation,  convul- 
sively clutching  at  his  throat?  The  inmates  of 
the  smoky  turf-cabin  had  often  felt  this  malign 
power  at  work,  as  it  squatted — crushing  and  squeez- 
ing— on  breast  and  throat,  and  had  awaked  with 
screams  of  terror  and  bathed  in  perspiration :  it 
was  the  dreaded  alp  (incubus,  nightmare),  who 
had  all  but  strangled  them  to  death.  By  night 
likewise  they  were  seized  by  that  frightful  some- 
thing which  resides  in  the  body  permanently,  and 
thus  diners  from  the  alp  that  comes  by  night,  or 
even  in  the  midday  slumber,  yet  speedily  with- 
draws again.  The  unwelcome  visitations  of  the 
incubus  must  have  made  a  profound  impression 
on  their  victims ;  and  it  was  an  experience  of 
similar  character  which  now  and  again  befell  them 
in  spring,  when  the  storm  was  raging  outside,  and 
alternate  chills  and  burnings  seized  them,  causing 
the  shiver  of  fever,  tormenting  them  in  sleep  with 
wildly-rushing  dreams,  and  at  length  bringing 
them  in  their  delirium  to  the  experience  of  things 
which,  as  their  house-mates  affirmed,  no  one  else 
had  perceived :  the  fell  work,  surely,  of  gruesome 
creatures,  invisible,  but  to  feeling  all  too  real, 
which  hemmed  them  in,  prowled  after  them, 
fell  upon  them  like  stealthy  foes — the  spirits 
and  demons  of  disease,  which  the  causal  instinct, 
with  its  unconsciously  creative  tendency  and  its 
power  of  stimulating  the  imagination,  depicted  in 
endlessly  varied  forms,  corresponding  to  the  ob- 
served phenomena  accompanying  the  affliction. 
A  special  object  of  misgiving  was  the  unseen, 
though  living  and  potent,  entity  which  dwelt  in 
triend  and  foe  alike,  which  passed  from  the  body 
at  death  and  left  it  behind,  i.e.  the  soul,  as 
primitive  man  was  always  obsessed  by  the  sus- 
picion that  departed  souls  still  pursued  then- 
friendly  or  hostile  activities  in  the  shadowy  host 
of  disease-spirits. 

Among  the  Teutons  the  souls  of  the  dead  were 
believed  to  join  the  great  demonic  host  which, 
comprising  elves,  'mares,'  Truclen,  Schrate,  and 
trolls,  swept  along  in  the  train  of  Woden  and  Holla  : 
winged  creatures  who  appeared  everywhere,  and 
had  their  home  in  the  savage  forest.  On  occasion 
the  disease-demons  assumed  bodily  shape,  show- 
ing themselves  in  every  variety  of  form,  and  ap- 
pearing in  the  disease  itself  as  worm-like  threads 
that  creep  under  the  skin,  or  as  actual  worms  living 
in  wounds  and  sores,  or  being  discharged  there- 
from. The  idea  of  the  wriggling  worm  as  the  em- 
bodiment of  the  disease-demon  was  widely  current 
among  the  Teutons.  The  demon  was  supposed  to 
emerge  from  the  worm  in  the  form  of  some  winged 
being,  or  of  an  ugly,  crawling,  slimy  toad. 

Next  in  importance  to  the  incubi,  or  spirits  of 
the  dead,  who  afflicted  the  survivors  with  horrible 
nightmares,  or  consorted  with  them  lasciviously  in 
dreams,  and  who,  in  the  form  of  some  animal, 
often  forced  their  way  to  the  fireside  through  holes 
and  cracks  (cf.  O.N.  mara  kval&i,  'the  torment  of 
the  mare,'  mara  trad,  also  cauche-mar  [cauche, 
from  Lat.  calcare,  '  to  tread '],  '  the  walk  of  the 
mare '),  it  was  the  horde  of  alps — creatures  fabri- 
cated by  the  imagination  from  the  nightmare — ■ 
the  Elben,  the  race  of  elves  (A.S.  celf-cynri),  who,  as 


noxious  demons  practised  their  wicked  magic  (A.S. 
celf-siden)  upon  mankind,  especially  in  attacks  of 
fever.  They  were  the  personal  causes  of  the  so- 
called  elf-disease,  which  injures  mankind  as  '  elf- 
shot'  (A.S.  ylfa  gescot,  O.N.  alfskud,  Danish  elver- 
skud),  striking  the  skin  (A.S.  on  fell  scoten),  the 
flesh  (onftcese  scoten),  the  blood  (on  blod  scoten),  or 
the  limbs  and  joints  (on  lid  scoten) ;  or  as  the  less 
injurious  elf -breath,  which,  when  merely  blown 
(O.N.  alvgust,  A.S.  ozlfblcest,  Swed.  elfveblast)  upon 
human  beings,  caused  a  swelling  of  the  limbs ;  or 
even  as  a  voracious  sucking  (A.S.  azlf-sogo^a)  of 
blood  or  marrow  or  bone  ;  or  as  some  other  vagrant 
affliction  (O.N.  dlfa-volkum,  'elf-roll,' cf.  'walk') 
which  falls  upon  a  person  in  its  flight.  When  a 
man  fell  a  victim  to  such  an  '  onfall '  (A.S.  on-feall), 
his  neighbours  said  '  the  elves  are  upon  him. 

Besides  these,  however,  there  were  numerous 
other  noxious  spirits  ill-affected  towards  mankind, 
as  may  be  inferred  from  the  personal  cast  of  many 
of  the  ancient  names  applied  to  particular  dis- 
eases, as,  e.g.,  Nessia,  Nagedo,  Stechedo,  Troppho, 
Crampho.  Touching  -  demons  caused  dysentery, 
lymphangitis,  and  anthrax  ;  stroking  -  demons 
(cf.  'moon-struck'),  face  paralysis  and  mental  de- 
rangement; burning-demons,  blisters  and  gangrene ; 
biting-,  pinching-,  scratching-,  and  bruising-de- 
mons, skm-affection  like  cancer,  extravasation  of 
blood,  itch,  freckles,  or  phlegmonous  inflammation, 
but  they  could  also  affect  the  body  internally,  and 
give  rise  to  ulcers  in  the  stomach  (O.H.G.  mago- 
bizado).  As  tearing-demons  they  produced  gnawing 
pains  in  nerves  and  muscles ;  as  striking-demons 
they  afflicted  men  with  apoplexy  and  epilepsy, 
with  blindness  and  mumps ;  as  pushing-demons 
they  brought  on  hiccup,  and  the  nbsch,  which 
presses  upon  the  heart  and  the  womb  ;  as  pricking- 
demons  they  were  the  cause  of  pneumonia  and 
pleurisy,  with  their  accompanying  pains  in  the 
side,  and  also  of  sunstroke  ;  as  choking-demons  they 
caused  disorders  which  constrict  the  throat  (croup, 
diphtheria) ;  as  binding-demons,  rickets  and  phim- 
osis ;  as  gripping-demons  (hardgreip,  uridgreip), 
the  swoonings  and  spasms  of  uraemia,  eclampsia, 
and  epilepsy  ;  as  blowing-demons,  disorders  of  the 
eyes  (especially  blennorrhcea  in  the  newly  born) 
and  the  blisters  of  anthrax,  as  also  smallpox  and 
plague,  though  these,  no  doubt,  were  sometimes 
figured  as  dragons  and  griffins  rushing  hither  and 
thither,  and  kUling  people  with  the  poisonous  fumes 
they  exhaled. 

Human  beings  were  also  exposed  to  the  aggres- 
sions of  certain  repulsive  creatures  of  diminutive 
size,  such  as  the  dwarfs,  who  caused  monstrous 
births,  local  paralysis,  lunacy,  mumps,  and  similar 
diseases  (e.g.  idiocy,  apoplexy,  herpes),  produced 
convulsions,  molested  people  at  night  by  crushing 
and  stifling,  and,  in  particular,  brought  about 
baneful  fevers  (thus  A.S.  dweorg  practically  means 
an  attack  of  fever).  Evil-disposed  demonic  Schelme 
(cf.  Scot,  'skellum')  smote  man  and  beast  with 
pestilence,  conveying  influenza  (O.H.G.  skalmo, 
skelma)  and  the  '  black  death'  in  fetid  effluvia — an 
idea  which  reveals  a  glimmering  sense  of  the 
danger  of  infection,  as  does  also  the  notion  of  the 
'Sehelmenbeine'  in  starveling  cattle,  the  '  Pest- 
schelme '  being  supposed  to  take  material  shape  in 
these. 

Demons  of  disease  dwelling  in  forests  were  also 
regarded  as  the  less  noxious  Schrate  (goblins)  and 
wights,  and  were  personified  as  Diisel  (stupors),  or 
as  '  yellow  hags,'  yellow-bellied  Salden,  who  knit 
yellow  vestments  with  yellow  needles — the  yellow 
smock-frocks  which  they  throw  over  the  bodies  of 
their  victims  as  jaundice  (Gelbsucht),  or  as  red  skin 
(Pellmergen)  in  erysipelas,  or  as  tumid  skin  (Schwell- 
mergen)  in  local  dropsy.  This  idea,  as  implying 
the  personification  of  local  affections,  reveals  a  some- 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (1/eutonic) 


761 


what  more  advanced  conception  of  disease,  which 
must  have  coexisted  from  the  outset  with  the  de- 
monistic  view,  the  latter  applying  more  particularly 
to  acute  and  chronic  infectious  diseases,  and  the 
whole  brood  of  '  nervous '  disorders.  The  demon- 
istic  view  of  disease  has  a  direct  link  of  connexion 
with  the  NT  conception  of  demons  in  the  Gothic 
word  ddimGnareis,  and  at  length  culminates  in  the 
mediaeval  theory  of  possession  by  devils  (A.S. 
de.ofolse.oc  and  deofolseocnes). 

2.  Medicine. — In  the  practice  of  healing,  like- 
wise, a  simple  empiricism  no  doubt  prevailed  among 
the  ancient  Teutons  from  the  first,  though  natur- 
ally the  evidence  of  this  fact  has  almost  entirely 
disappeared.  But  this  experimental  therapeutics 
became  almost  inseparably  combined  with  demon- 
istic  conceptions  and  modes  of  thought. 

A  wound  was  first  of  all  cleansed  and  bound  up 
with  vulnerary  herbs.  If  the  bleeding  was  pro- 
fuse, the  sore  was  sprinkled  with  the  dust  of  dried 
plants,  and  the  bandage  was  tightened.  But,  as 
this  did  not  always  prove  effective,  recourse  was 
had  to  the  '  more  potent '  remedies — of  which  we 
shall  speak  below — as  preventives,  and  this  mode 
of  treatment  was  presently  applied  in  all  cases  and 
'for  all  cases';  i.e.  it  became  customary  to  use 
such  remedies  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  treat- 
ment, as  unexpected  and  apparently  causeless  con- 
tingencies might  supervene  in  the  process  of  heal- 
ing— complications  as  mysterious  as  they  were 
dangerous,  such  as  inflammation,  erysipelas, 
diphtheria,  hospital  gangrene,  and  lock-jaw  ;  in 
short,  all  those  concomitants  of  bodily  injuries 
which  are  now  traced  to  infection.  These  unwel- 
come manifestations  were  regarded  as  '  gruesome 
companions,'  the  personified  influences  of  malicious 
denizens  of  the  world  of  spirits  and  demons,  though 
they  might  also  be  due  to  the  machinations  of  evil- 
disposed  human  beings  who  were  able  to  move  the 
demonic  realm  and  make  it  subservient  to  their 
will.  Moreover,  there  was  always  the  possibility 
that  the  invalid  had  in  some  respect  neglected  the 
claims  of  religion.  He  might  have  fallen  short  in 
performance  of  his  duties  towards  the  friendly 
deities  of  his  people,  so  that  they  had  sent  the 
injury  as  a  punishment,  or  had  given  to  the 
wicked  elves,  whom  they  generally  held  in  check, 
that  permission  to  work  injury  of  which  they 
so  fiercely  availed  themselves.  For  all  such  possi- 
bilities timely  and  rapid  measures  had  to  be  taken. 
Horror  lowered  upon  primitive  man  from  all  sides, 
and  it  was  the  part  of  wise  counsellors — both  men 
and  women,  but,  in  all  that  related  to  disease, 
more  especially  women — to  soothe  the  terror- 
haunted  soul. 

Diseases  of  supernatural  origin,  and,  in  fact,  all 
painful  things  that  could  not  be  traced  forthwith 
to  sensible  causes,  might  be  Divine  punishments, 
from  which  the  sufferer  could  be  absolved  only  by 
expiation — by  the  bloody  or  unbloody  sacrifice. 
The  sacrificing  priest  secured  his  people  against 
the  demons  of  plague.  Odin  himself,  however, 
is  the  master-magician,  the  'magic-father'  (O.N. 
galdro-father) ;  as  the  sun-god  he  scatters  the 
nocturnal  swarm  of  the  '  night-goers '  (nihtgenga) ; 
he  is  the  mighty  elf-dispeller,  the  scourge  of  the 
alps  (grceti  alfa).  Nevertheless,  it  was  also  the 
custom  to  offer  sacrifice  to  the  alps  themselves 
(alfablot),  who  were  often  well-affected  towards 
men,  and  had  some  knowledge  of  the  plants  that 
must  be  dug  on  moonless  nights.  The  cult  of 
Eir,  the  special  goddess  of  healing,  is  of  relatively 
late  origin ;  she  was  the  personification  of  the 
gentle  hand  of  woman  in  nursing  the  sick  (O.N. 
eira,  'to  care  for,'  'nurse').  But  Odin  still  held 
his  place  as  the  supreme  god  of  healing,  and  the 
healing  '  touch  '  of  '  Wodan's  finger  '  was  long  the 
prerogative  of  English   and  Frankish  kings — de- 


scendants of  Odin — as  a  cure  for  scrofula  and 
struma  ('king's  evil').  At  an  earlier  date  the 
power  of  curing  disease  was  ascribed  to  the  god 
Thor,  the  great  preserver  in  times  of  sickness  and 
danger,  the  destroyer  of  evil  spirits.  But  Odin 
the  Wise  knew  all  the  secrets  of  the  magic  which 
counteracts  the  work  of  demons :  '  succouring 
oracles  of  healing'  (Hdvamdl,  11,  9),  'long,  power- 
ful runes  of  life '  (Rigspula,  44),  '  succouring  staffs 
and  protective  runes '  (Sigrdrifumdl,  5  and  9),  and 
'  staffs  full  of  healing  virtue '  {Hdvamdl,  145). 

Here  we  come  upon  the  most  important  element 
in  the  healing  magic  directed  against  the  demons 
of  disease,  viz.  the  spell,  which  was  inscribed  on 
rods,  pieces  of  bark,  or  the  skin,  as,  e.g.,  the  hand, 
of  the  invalid,  and  which  might  be  whispered, 
spoken,  chanted,  or  shouted.  All  the  ancient 
Teutonic  languages  furnish  numerous  examples 
of  such  spells  or  charms — more  especially  formulae 
for  the  healing  of  wounds,  the  stanching  of  blood, 
and  the  prevention  of  swelling  and  mortification. 
Thus,  Hartmann  von  Aue  tells  how,  after  a  wound 
had  been  bandaged,  Gawan,  faithful  to  ancient 
Teutonic  custom,  uttered  the  spell :  'Zer  wunden 
wundensegen.'  Again  and  again  in  the  'blood- 
charms  '  we  find  the  phrases :  '  stant  plot  fasto,' 
'  verstand  du,  bluotrinna.'  Nor  are  other  possible 
contingencies  forgotten;  thus  'dyn  stekent,  dyn 
swillent,  dyn  killent,  dyn  vulent,  dyn  stinkent, 
dyn  swerent,  dyn  rennent  sholt  laten '  —  a  spell 
which  calls  for  uninterrupted  convalescence.  But 
the  folk-medicine  of  the  ancient  Teutons  com- 
prised similar  spells  for  many  other  ailments. 
Thus  we  find  charms  for  worms,  designed  to  expel 
the  nesso  (worm)  with  niun  nessinchlinon  ('nine 
little  worms')  from  the  marrow,  through  veins, 
flesh,  and  skin,  and  so  out  of  the  body;1  or  to 
kill  it,  or  cause  it  to  drop  from  the  sore  in  the 
form  of  maggots.  There  were  also  fever-charms, 
used  for  destroying  or  expelling  '  ritten  ' ;  charms 
for  fracture  and  dislocation,  spoken  while  the 
injured  limb  was  being  stroked  or  nibbed,  and 
supposed  to  help  the  disconnected  bones  to  re- 
unite ;  charms  for  the  eye,  which  arrested  run- 
nings, swelling,  pain  and  dimness  in  that  organ ; 
charms  for  convulsions,  curing  epilepsy,  '  wild 
shot,'  gout,  obstruction  of  bowels,  colic  {ber- 
muoter),  '  cold  pains,'  and  '  irregular  '  gout  ; 
charms  for  consumption,  curing  all  forms  of  wast- 
ing disease ;  charms  for  swelling,  which  removed 
intumescences  (e.g.  wens)  and  swollen  glands 
(kyrrill) ;  charms  for  the  teeth,  which  destroyed 
the  worms  of  toothache  and  caries  ;  birth-charms, 
which  were  uttered  before  the  knees  of  a  woman 
in  labour,  and  helped  to  usher  the  child  safely 
into  the  world  and  bring  away  the  afterbirth  (as, 
e.g.,  in  the  Edda,  they  were  'sung  vigorously' 
for  Bbrgny  by  Oddrfin,  supported  by  the  birth- 
runes  'painted  on  hands  and  joint-bandages'  as 
'  health-marks '). 

Sometimes  the  expedients  employed  took  the 
form  of  slips  of  bast  inscribed  with  formulae 
similar  to  the  foregoing  {zouborgiscrib),  and  sus- 
pended in  little  boxes  (plechir)  around  the  invalid, 
or  bound  upon  the  diseased  part  (ligaturce) ;  while 
they  were  also  used  as  prophylactics,  as  amulets 
for  the  'breaking  of  sickness.'  But  charms  were 
likewise  of  avail  for  the  transference  of  diseases 
to  another  place,  and  for  conveying  them  to 
animals  and  trees  ('branch-runes,'  'which  must 
be  learned  by  any  one  who  would  be  a  physician,' 
[Edda]).  Charms  were  spoken  or  chanted  in 
gathering  medicinal  and  magical  herbs,  in  making 
decoctions,  and  in  other  proceedings,  such  as  pass- 
ing or  creeping  through  split  trees ;  they  were 
uttered  over  an  unconscious  invalid,  or  while  a 

1  Cf.  the  celebrated  O.H.G.  '  Munich  worm-charm,'  which 
will  be  given  in  full  in  the  art.  Magic  (Teutonic). 


762 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Vedic) 


rune-embellished  gold  ring  was  being  moved  in 
a  circle  round  his  wound  ;  probably  also  when  an 
iron  or  bronze  ring  was  fixed  round  a  limb  as  a 
prophylactic  against  demons,  and  even  in  jumping 
through  the  solstitial  fire,  the  smoke  of  which 
the  leaper  tried  to  catch  and  retain  in  his  clothes 
as  a  protection  against  fever. 

The  practical  parts  of  these  various  expedients, 
and  many  other  actions  of  the  same  kind,  were, 
no  doubt,  frequently — perhaps  more  frequently — 
employed  without  spells,  the  place  of  the  latter 
being  gradually  taken  by  new  manipulations, 
articles  of  clothing,  and  other  paraphernalia,  e.g. 
wooden  masks,  hats,  cloaks,  bags  with  the  most 
fantastic  contents,  such  as  talons,  claws,  nails, 
hair,  small  bones  and  similar  trumpery — the  stock- 
in-trade  of  the  witch-doctor  (shaman,  medicine- 
man) all  over  the  world.  Such  objects  as  images 
of  the  gods  were  dipped  in  water  in  order  to 
endow  it  with  special  remedial  virtues ;  cakes 
were  baked  in  the  form  of  the  powers  of  healing, 
and  then  eaten  ;  wooden  arms  and  legs  were  hung 
up  in  temples  or  groves  as  votive  offerings,  while 
magic  stones,  with  or  without  runic  writing  (stones 
of  life),  were  worn  as  amulets. 

Such  were  the  '  medical '  ideas,  practices,  and 
devices  by  which  the  ancient  Teutons  sought  to 
cure  existing  disorders  and  to  secure  themselves 
against  possible  injuries  to  health.  But  even 
those  remedial  measures  which  might  at  first 
sight  seem  to  be  purely  natural  were  in  many 
cases  conjoined  with  a  superstitious  element. 
Thus,  when  applying  a  rolling  massage  to  the 
abdomen  for  troubles  in  that  region,  the  '  doctor ' 
would  have  in  his  hand  a  beetle  or  some  such 
creature,  into  which  the  disease,  or  the  demon 
causing  it,  was  supposed  to  pass ;  while,  in  trying 
to  dislodge  the  demons  of  pain  from  certain  parts 
of  the  body  by  fumigating  them  with  the  incense 
of  narcotic  herbs,  the  operator  softly  uttered  a 
spell,  or  chanted  a  magic  verse.  The  demonistic 
theory  of  disease  was  itself  of  empirical  origin. 
Even  here  a  slight  though  real  element  of  fact 
underlies  all  that  is  merely  fanciful,  and  it  was 
only  as  a  secondary  phase  that  it  unfolded  that 
riotous  luxuriance  which  took  shape  finally  as  an 
imaginary  host  of  disease-demons  encompassing 
mankind.  These  demons  were  the  outcome  of 
what  might  be  called  observation  of  pathological 
symptoms,  which  found  its  materials  in  all  manner 
of  deformities  in  men  and  animals ;  such  de- 
formities, again,  adding  fresh  matter  to  the  ideas 
born  of  the  nightmare,  and  constantly  confirming 
them  by  apparently  positive  evidence — just  as  the 
intestinal  or  external  parasite  seemed  to  corro- 
borate the  personifying  animistic  theory  of  dis- 
ease. The  parasitical  theory  of  disease  is  thus 
intimately  related  to  the  demonistic. 

The  anti-demonic  incantation  was  usually  re- 
garded as  appertaining  specially  to  the  individual, 
who  used  it  to  protect  himself  against,  or  deliver 
himself  from,  some  particular  demon ;  while  the 
bloody  sacrifice  performed  by  the  tribal  priest  was 
designed  to  guard  the  whole  tribe  against  surprise 
attacks  by  the  host  of  disease-spirits.  But  we 
also  find  incantations  of  an  almost  general  char- 
acter used  as  safeguards  against  possible  onsets 
of  demons  —  against  '  whatever  elf  it  may  be ' 
(sy  ]>cet  ylfa  \e  him  sie).  All  conceivable  com- 
binations of  the  supernaturalistic  therapeutics 
of  magic  and  the  physico-chemical  therapeutics 
of  manipulation  and  pharmacy  have  been  evolved 
in  the  course  of  centuries,  nor  can  it  even  yet 
be  said  that,  in  the  folk-medicine  of  the  Teutons 
or  other  races,  the  purely  natural  standpoint  has 
finally  carried  the  day. 

Literature. — W.  G.  Black,  Folk-medicine:  A  Chapter  in  the 
History  of  Culture,  London,  18S3;  C.  P.  Caspari,  Eine  Augustin 


falschlich  beigelegte  Eomilia  de  sacrilegiis,  Christiania,  1886 ; 
T.  O.  Cockayne,  Leechdoms,  Wortcunning  and  Starcra/t  oj 
Early  England,  3  vols.,  London,  1864-66  (Bibl.  d.  angels.  Prosa, 
vi.  1905) ;  O.  Ebermann,  '  Blut-  und  Wundsegen  in  ihrer  Ent- 
wickelung  dargestellt,'  in  Palaestra,  xxiv.,  Berlin,  1903 ; 
G.  Gering,  Die  Edda,  ubersetzt  u.  erlautert,  Leipzig  and 
Vienna,  n.d. ;  J.  Geldner,  Untersuchungen  zu  altenglischen 
Krankheitsnamen,  Diss,  and  Real-Gymn.  Program,  Augsburg, 
1906-8;  F.  Grbn,  '  Altnordische  Heilkunde,'  in  Janus,  xii. 
(1.907)  pp.  665  ff.  (also  separately,  pp.  160);  M.  Hb'fler, 
'  Uber  germanische  Heilkunde,'  in  Janus,  ii.  (1897-98),  pp.  10- 
22,  136-152,  '  Krankheitsdamonen,'  in  ARW  ii.  (1899),  pp.  86- 
164,  '  Besegnungsformeln,'  ib.  vi.  (1903),  pp.  163-178,  Deutsche! 
Krankheitsnamenbuch,  Munich,  1899,  '  Der  Alptraum  als 
Urquell  der  Krankheitsdamonen,'  in  Janus,  iv.  (1900),  pp. 
612-518,  Altgermanische  Heilkunde  (Handbiicher  d.  Gesch.  a. 
Medizin,  i.  [1902]),  pp.  466-480;  L.  Laistner,  Das  Rdtsel  der 
Sphinx:  Grundziige  einer  Mythengeschichte,  2  vols.,  Berlin, 
1889 ;  J.  F.  Payne,  English  Medicine  in  Anqlo-Saxon  Times, 
Oxford,  1904,  pp.  94-i42;  W.  H.  Roscher,  'Ephialtes,'  in 
ASG  (phil.-hist.  Classe),  xx.  2  (1900)  ;  Widlak,  '  Die  abergliiu- 
bischen  u.  heidnischen  Gebrauche  d.  alten  Deutschen  nach  d. 
Zeugnisse  der  Synode  von  Lifting  im  Jahre  743,'  in  Jahresber. 
des  k.k.  Gymnasiums  in  Znaim,  for  1904,  pp.  1-36 ;  W. 
Wundt,  V'olkerpsychologie,  ii.  2,  Leipzig,  1906,  pp.  386-410; 
A.  Wuttke,  Der  deutsche  Volksaberglaube  3,  Berlin,  1900. 

K.   SUDHOFP. 

DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Vedic).— Limi- 
tation of  the,  subject. — The  distinction  between 
charms  for  the  cure  of  disease  (bhaisajy&ni)  and 
other  charms  is  frequently  evanescent.  They 
approach  with  special  closeness  the  charms  to 
secure  long  life  (ayusydni,  cf.  MAGIC  [Vedic])  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  charms  of  exorcism  (cf. 
Witchcraft  [Vedic])  on  the  other.  Moreover, 
charms  for  easy  childbirth,  for  abortion,  and  for  the 
promotion  or  destruction  of  virility  might  properly 
be  classed  among  them,  but  are  in  fact  classed 
regularly  among  the  rites  pertaining  to  women 
(stri-karmani,  cf.  Magic  [Vedic]).  Instead  of 
attempting  any  theoretic  distinction,  it  seems  best 
to  follow  the  Hindu  classification,  and  treat  in 
this  article  only  charms  of  the  type  contained  in 
the  bhaisajya-cha,pters  (xxv.-xxxii. )  of  the  Kauiika 
Siitra,  reserving  the  related  charms  for  the  articles 
cited  above. 

I.  Sources. — The  chief  source  for  our  know- 
ledge of  the  beliefs  relating  to  disease  in  Vedic 
times  and  of  the  practices  based  upon  them  is  the 
Atharvaveda.  Of  hymns  or  parts  of  hymns  in- 
tended to  secure  the  cure  of  more  or  less  sharply 
defined  diseases,  the  Atharvan  Samhita  contains 
something  over  a  hundred.  The  practices  by 
which  these  were  at  one  time  accompanied  are 
given  in  the  bhaisajya-chapters  of  the  Kauiika 
Sutra. 

It  cannot,  of  course,  be  always  confidently  asserted  that  the 
practices  there  described  are  identical  with  those  employed 
when  the  hymns  were  composed.  But  that  the  statements  of 
the  ritual  are,  in  the  main,  based  upon  a  good  understanding 
of  the  hymns  is  shown  by  the  flood  of  light  that  the  study  of 
the  ritual  has  thrown  upon  the  interpretation  of  the  hymns 
(cf.  the  history  of  .their  interpretation  which  is  given  in 
the  Commentary  to  pages  1-48  of  Bloomfield's  '  Hymns  of  the 
Atharva-veda,'  SBE,  vol.  xlii.).  That  the  treatment  of  the 
hymn  in  the  ritual  is  secondary  is  sometimes  too  hastily  assumed. 
Thus  vi,  44  is  clearly  a  charm  against  dsrdva  (diarrhrea)  and 
vdtikdra  (production  of  wind  in  the  intestines),  but  Kau&ika  xxxi. 
6  is  supposed  to  rubricate  it  in  a  remedial  rite  against  slander. 
The  position  of  the  rite  in  the  Kau&ika  shows  that  it  is  intended 
for  the  cure  of  some  disease,  and,  if  the  commentator  is  right 
(as  he  most  probably  is)  in  saying  that  it  is  to  be  employed 
'in  case  of  slander,'  this  means  only  that  the  origin  of  the 
disease  vdtikdra  is  ascribed  to  the  evil  speech  of  an  enemy  (cf. 
below,  for  disease  originating  from  curses,  evil  eye,  and  sorcery) 
— a  naive,  but  not  improbable,  conception.  On  the  other  hand, 
both  the  materia  medica  of  the  KauHka  and  its  therapeutic 
practices — slight  as  these  are— seem  more  advanced  than  those 
of  the  Sarfihitd  itself.  In  some  cases  also  the  connexion  be- 
tween the  rite  and  the  hymn  is  so  superficial  that  there  can  be 
no  doubt  of  the  secondary  mechanical  adaptation  of  the  one  to 
the  other.  In  such  cases  it  is  usual  to  assume  that  the  rite  has 
been  made  to  fit  the  charm.  In  view,  however,  of  the  great 
conservatism  that  in  general  controls  such  practices,  and  the 
probable  pre-historic  origin  of  certain  Atharvan  charms  (cf. 
Bloomfield,  'The  Atharva  Veda,'  p.  61,  and  the  literature  there 
cited),  the  opposite  possibility  deserves  more  consideration.  In 
the  present  state  of  Vedic  studies,  at  all  events,  we  can  seldom 
hope  to  do  better  than  understand  an  Atharvan  hymn  as  the 
Kauiika  understood  it. 

Taken  together,  the  two  sources  furnish  a  better 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Vedic) 


763 


picture  of  primitive  medicine  than  has  been  pre- 
served in  any  literature  of  so  early  a  period. 
Further  interest  is  added  to  the  subject  by  the  fact 
that  these  medical  charms  are  the  germ  from  which 
the  later  Hindu  medicine  was  evolved.  The  stage 
of  its  development  represented  in  the  medical 
Sdstras  implies  several  centuries  of  evolution  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  Kauiika,  and  is  now  known 
(through  the  discovery  of  the  Bower  MS.)  to  have 
been  attained  previous  to  the  5th  cent,  of  our 
era.  The  relation  of  the  later  medicine  to  the 
Atharva  is  recognized  by  the  Hindus  themselves, 
who  regard  the  Yajurveda  as  an  'after- Veda' 
{upaveda)  of  the  Atharva.  Hindu  medicine  in 
turn  has,  through  the  Arabs,  left  its  effect  upon 
European  medicine. 

Other  Vedic  texts,  owing  to  the  purpose  of  their 
composition,  do  not  have  occasion  to  handle  the 
phenomena  of  disease  in  the  same  concrete  fashion, 
and  to  the  same  extent.  Apart  from  the  addition 
of  details  of  a  similar  nature,  their  chief  contribu- 
tion consists  in  a  picture  of  the  general  attitude  of 
their  authors  and  users  towards  disease.  Into  this 
picture  as  a  background  the  details  of  the  Atharva 
fit  with  perfect  harmony.  The  difference  between 
the  hieratic  texts  (the  "Rigveda  in  particular)  and 
the  Atharva  is  neither  a  difference  in  time,  nor  a 
difference  in  enlightenment  between  the  adherents 
of  these  Vedas.  It  is  rather  the  difference  in 
attitude  of  the  priest  and  the  physician  (each 
liberal  enough  to  employ  on  occasion  the  resources 
of  the  other)  when  brought  face  to  face  with 
disease. 

2.  The  Atharvan  practice  of  medicine. — (1) 
Knowledge  of  anatomy. — The  Atharva  evinces  a 
very  thorough  knowledge  of  what  may  be  called 
the  coarser  anatomy  of  the  human  body,  naming 
its  various  external  subdivisions,  and  many  of  its 
internal  organs.  Thus  ii.  33  is  a  long  list  of  the 
parts  of  the  body  from  which  the  disease  is  to  be 
torn  ;  similar  lists  occur  also  in  ix.  8,  x.  2,  and  xi.  8. 
Beyond  this  knowledge,  which  was  to  a  great  extent 
a  pre-historic  acquisition  (cf.  O.  Schrader,  Beallex. 
d.  indogerm,  Altertumskunde,  1901,  s.v.  '  Kbrper- 
theile'),  the  Atharva  can  hardly  be  said  to  go. 
The  apparent  distinction  between  veins  and  arteries 
in  i.  17.  3  is  offset  by  the  occurrence  of  the  same 
words  in  vii.  35.  2,  with  the  more  general  sense  of 
'internal  canals,'  meaning  entrails,  vagina,  etc. — 
showing  how  vague  were  the  ideas  held  with 
regard  to  such  subjects.  The  isolated  statement 
of  ix.  8.  10,  'what  is  diseased  shall  become  urine,' 
may  be  mentioned  as  an  accidental  approximation 
to  a  partial  truth.  To  be  noted,  however,  is  the 
fact  that  the  Hindu  theory  of  the  constitution  of 
the  body  of  three  elements — bile,  phlegm,  and  wind 
— does  not  appear  in  the  early  Atharvan  texts. 
Vdtikrtanaiani  of  vi.  44.  3  cannot  be  urged  as 
proof  to  the  contrary,  as  it  means,  not  '  destructive 
of  (diseases)  produced  by  the  wind  in  the  body' 
(vatakrtanaiani),  but  '  destructive  of  that  which 
has  been  made  into  wind.'  Evidently,  from  its 
association  with  diarrhoea,  it  refers  to  wind  in  the 
intestines.  The  later  theory,  which  appears  first 
in  the  Svapnddhyaya,  Atharv.  Par.  68,  is,  of  course, 
familiar  to  the  commentators,  who  endeavour  to 
foist  it  upon  the  Kauiika. 

(2)  Theory  of  the  origin  of  disease. — The  popular 
mind  is  ever  ready  to  see  in  disease  the  manifesta- 
tion of  the  will  of  a  supernatural  power.  To  the 
Atharvan  this  power  was  generally  one  of  the 
hosts  of  demons  by  which  he  believed  himself 
surrounded.  How  slight  was  the  distinction  made 
between  disease  and  possession  may  be  seen  from 
a  hymn  like  Atharv.  ii.  4,  which  is  directed 
against  disease  and  demon  alike.  Compare  also 
v.  23.  2,  where  Indra  is  invoked  to  destroy  the 
worms  in  a  child,  and  it  is  immediately  declared 


that  all  the  arati  (certain  female  demons)  are 
slain.  It  is  also  clearly  implied  by  the  fact  that 
the  Kauiika  contains,  among  its  remedial  practices, 
ceremonies  which  consist  merely  in  the  driving 
away  of  the  demons  that  are  causing  the  disease  (cf. 
xxv.  22-36,  xxxi.  3-4) ;  in  providing  the  patient 
with  an  amulet  to  resist  their  attacks  (xxvi.  26 f., 
xxvii.  5f.,  xxviii.  7) ;  or  in  spells  to  dissipate  and 
remove  the  harm  they  have  done  (xxvi.  29-32, 
xxviii.  9-11). 

These  demons  of  disease  are  generally  vague  in 
outline  and  indefinite  in  number,  and  are  known  by 
the  names  piiacha,  raksas,  atrin,  and  kanva.  Of 
their  various  pernicious  activities,  it  may  be  noted 
that  the  piiacha  devour  the  flesh  of  their  victims 
(Atharv.  iv.  36.  3,  v.  29.  5);  the  etymology  of 
atrin  points  in  the  same  direction,  while  the 
kanva  prey  especially  upon  the  embryo  (ii.  25.  3). 
Other  unnamed  demons  (ib.)  are  suckers  of  blood 
and  takers  away  of  fatness,  while  in  xix.  36.  6 
figure  the  dog-like  she^demons  that  recall  the  dog- 
demon  of  epilepsy  (Apastambiya  Grhya  Sutra, 
xviii.  1)  and  the  dog-like  gandharvas  of  Atharv.  iv. 
37.  11.  Another  class  of  beings  to  whose  influences 
diseases  are  ascribed  are  the  gandharvas  and  their 
consortsthe ' mind-bewildering 'apsaras{ci.  Atharv. 
ii.  2.  5,  iv.  37,  xix.  36.  6).  Insanity  in  particular  is 
ascribed  to  their  influence  (cf.  vi.  111.  4,  also  Rig- 
veda x.  11.2;  Pischel,  VedischeStudien,\. [1889]  188, 
and  the  statement  of  Tdittiriya  Samhitd,  iii.  4.  8. 
4  :  '  The  gandharvas  and  apsaras  render  mad  him 
that  is  mad').  The  raksas,  too  (Atharv.  vi.  111.  3), 
can  steal  away  one's  senses.  In  Atharv.  v.  29.  6  f. 
is  indicated  one  way  in  which  the  demons  obtain 
possession  of  their  victim — by  entering  him  with 
his  food.  It  is  with  this  possibility  in  view  that 
Kauiika  xxvi.  10  orders  as  a  hygienic  precaution 
that  the  sacks  of  grain  belonging  to  the  sick  man 
shall  be  surrounded  with  a  ring  of  heated  pebbles. 
As  the  Atharva  makes  but  slight  distinction  be- 
tween demon  and  human  sorcerer,  it  is  not  surpris- 
ing to  find  the  latter  causing  disease  (Atharv.  i.  28, 
iv.  28,  xix.  39.  1)  or  diseases  attributed  to  magic 
(iii.  7.  6  ;  for  methods  of  thus  producing  disease,  cf. 
art.  Witchcraft  [Vedic]),  curses,  or  the  evil  eye 
(ii.  7,  v.  15  and  16,  vi.  96.  2,  xix.  35.  3,  and  Kaui. 
xxvi.  35,  xxix.  15-17). 

Theoretically  the  diseases  themselves  are  demons, 
and  in  some  cases,  e.g.  viskandha  and  samskandha, 
it  is  impossible  to  decide  whether  the  word  should 
be  considered  the  name  of  a  demon  or  of  a  disease. 
But  the  personality  of  disease-demons  is  rarely 
strongly  marked,  and  none  of  them  is  exactly 
comparable  with  the  later  smallpox  goddess 
Sitala.  The  closest  approach  is  to  be  found  in 
takman  (fever),  the  Atharvan  name  for  the  disease 
known  to  the  later  medicine  as  jvara  (cf.  esp.  the 
hymn  v.  22,  in  which  he  is  adjured  to  go  else- 
where ;  and  i.  25,  vi.  20,  and  vii.  116,  in  which  he 
is  offered  homage).  Certain  scrofulous  sores  called 
apachit  are  supposed  to  move  of  their  own  volition, 
as  they  fly  through  the  air  and  settle  upon  their 
victim.  So  much  is  this  the  case,  that  earlier  in- 
terpreters understood  the  word  as  the  name  of  a 
noxious  insect.  As  in  other  popular  systems  of 
medicine  (cf.  A.  Kuhn,  in  Kuhn's  Zeitschrift,  xiii. 
49  If.  and  113 ft*.),  a  number  of  diseases  are  ascribed 
to  the  presence  of  worms  (practically  a  form  of 
demon  [cf .  above])  located  in  various  parts  of  the 
body,  and  most  fantastically  described  (cf.  Atharv 
ii.  31  and  32,  v.  23,  with  numerous  parallels  in 
other  texts  to  be  cited  below). 

Less  frequently  the  Atharva  ascribes  a  disease 
to  one  of  the  greater  gods,  and  then  often  as  a 
punishment  for  sin.  Varuna  sends  dropsy  to 
punish  crime,  especially  falsehood  (cf.  Atharv.  i. 
10.  1-4,  ii.  10.  1,  iv.  16.  7,  vii.  83.  1-4,  xix.  44.  8 ; 
once  also,  i.  25.  3,  the  takman  is  said  to  be  his  son 


764 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Vedic) 


[i.e.  sent  by  him],  and  in  vi.  96.  2  [a  charm  employed 
by  Kauiika  to  heal  the  dropsy,  but  probably 
originally  of  a  wider  scope]  the  prayer  is  to  be 
'  freed  from  the  toils  of  Varuna,  the  foot-fetter  of 
Yama  [Death],  and  every  sin  against  the  gods'). 
Certain  sharp  pains  are  ascribed  to  the  spear  of 
Rudra  (Kaui.  xxxi.  7) ;  the  arrow  of  the  same  god 
causes  tumours  (Atharv.  vi.  57) ;  the  takman  and 
the  kdsikd  (cough)  are  his  weapons  (xi.  2.  22),  and 
in  xi.  2.  26  he  is  said  to  send  the  takman.  A 
ceremony  to  his  children,  the  Maruts  (KauL  xxvi. 
24),  serves  as  a  cure  for  leprosy.  Diarrhoea  is 
connected  in  i.  2  with  the  arrows  of  Parjanya  (the 
rain-god),  and  lightning  (Agni)  is  regarded  in  i.  12 
as  productive  of  fever,  headache,  and  cough. 
Taksaka,  a  serpent-god,  is  worshipped  in  KauL 
xxviii.  1,  xxix.  1,  xxxii.  20  (charms  to  cure  the 
bites  of  poisonous  reptiles). 

The  supposed  hereditary  nature  of  some  disease 
seems  implied  in  the  name  ksetriya  (the  interpreta- 
tion is  disputed),  but  even  it  has  demons  that 
produce  it.  Finally,  the  dami-tree  is  supposed  to 
have  some  evil  influence  on  the  hair  (cf.  Atharv. 
vi.  30.  2f.,  and  Kaui.  xxxi.  1). 

(3)  The  diseases  treated. — The  identification  of 
the  diseases  treated  in  the  Atharva  is  difficult  in 
the  extreme.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  nothing 
that  can  be  called  diagnosis  in  our  sense  of  the 
term.  The  practitioner  is  concerned  merely  with 
the  troublesome  symptom  ;  of  the  cause  of  the 
symptom,  the  disease  itself,  he  knows  nothing. 
Sometimes  the  symptom,  e.  g.  jalodara  ( '  water- 
belly'),  is  definite  enough  to  enable  us  to  identify 
the  disease  ;  more  frequently  it  is  not,  e.g.  the 
terms  apach.it  ('sores')  and  aksata  ('tumours') 
must  have  covered  a  great  variety  of  afflictions 
from  the  most  harmless  to  the  most  malignant. 
In  the  next  place,  the  Kauiika,  as  a  rule,  does  not 
state  the  disease  for  which  its  charms  are  intended. 
This  important  item  is  left  to  be  inferred  from  the 
hymn  rubricated.  Unfortunately  the  hymns  often 
combine  the  most  varied  diseases ;  extreme  in- 
stances may  be  found  in  ii.  33,  ix.  8. 

The  commentators  (of  much  later  date)  endeavour  to  supply 
this  deficiency.  Their  statements,  however,  are  not  only  fre- 
quently contradictory,  but  are  also  evidently  affected  by  their 
knowledge  of  the  later  Hindu  medicine.  As  an  example  of  the 
way  they  work  may  be  taken  Kesava's  statement  that  Kaui. 
xxx.  13  is  a  cure  for  dropsy,  heart-disease,  and  jaundice.  Both 
the  ritual  and  the  hymn  rubricated  (vi.  24)  are  plainly  con- 
cerned primarily  with  dropsy ;  this  disease  is  frequently  com- 
plicated with  heart-disease,  which  is,  therefore,  mentioned  in 
the  hymn.  But  in  i.  22  (a  cure  for  jaundice)  heart-disease  is 
also  incidentally  mentioned.  Kesava  seems  to  have  reasoned 
that,  since  the  cure  for  jaundice  (i.  22)  cured  heart-disease, 
therefore  another  cure  for  heart-disease  (vi.  24)  must  also  cure 
jaundice  I  Finally,  there  are  many  obscure  terms  both  in  the 
Saiiihita  and  in  the  Sutra. 

The  most  dreaded  disease  was  the  '  fever '  especi- 
ally predominant  in  the  autumn  (viivaiarada).  Its 
later  name  jvara  does  not  occur  in  the  Atharva, 
where  it  is  known  as  takman,  a  name  which 
conversely  is  confined  to  this  Veda.  To  it  especially 
are  devoted  i.  25,  v.  22,  vi.  20,  vii.  116 ;  and  to  it's 
specific,  the  kustha-f>\a,nt  (Costus  speciosus),  v.  4 
and  xix.  39 ;  incidental  mention  of  the  disease  is 
found  in  i.  12.  2,  iv.  9.  8,  ix.  8.  6,  xix.  34.  10,  39.  1 
and  10.  The  Ganamald,  Atharv.  Par.  32,  gives  a 
long  list  (cf.  Kaui.  xxvi.  1  n.)  of  hymns  that  en- 
compass its  destruction.  This  list,  takmandiana- 
gana,  is  made  by  taking  the  first  five  hymns  cited 
above,  and  adding  to  them  the  hymns  against 
ksetriya  (ii.  8  and  10,  iii.  7),  against  yaksma  (iii. 
11,  vi.  85  and  127),  various  panacea-hymns  (ii.  9, 
iv.  28,  v.  9,  vi.  26  and  91,  ix.  8),  and  a  hymn  (vi. 
42)  originally  intended  to  appease  anger — heat 
forming  the  tertium  comparationis.  The  symptoms 
described  are  alternation  between  heat  and  cold, 
delirium,  return  of  the  fever  either  (at  the  same 
hour)  every  day,  or  every  third  day,  or  omitting 
every  third  day.     Associated  with  it  are  jaundice, 


certain  red  eruptions  (v.  22.  3),  headache,  cough, 
spasm,  and  itch  (pdman),  the  last  being  its  brother's 
son  (v.  22.  12). 

Yaksma  (also  rajayaksma,  ajndtayaksma,  to 
which  Taitt.  Sam.  ii.  3.  5.  1-3,  5.  6.  4-5  add  papa- 
yaksma)  seems  to  have  in  the  Athaxva  (cf.  ii.  33, 
iii.  11,  v.  29.  13,  vi.  127.  3,  ix.  8,  xix.  36  and  44) 
no  narrower  signification  than  '  disease. '  With 
this  accords  the  statement  of  Vdj.  Sam.  xii.  97 
that  there  are  a  hundred  varieties  of  yaksma. 
The  employment  of  its  hymns  in  the  takmandiana- 
gana  implies  either  a  disease  of  marked  febrile 
symptoms  or  (preferabty)  such  an  indefinite  mean- 
ing. So  also  does  the  fact  that  Sdntikalpa,  xxiii. 
2  employs  yaksmopaghdta  as  a  synonymous  nam« 
for  this  gana,  while  other  texts  have  the  form 
yaksman,  congenerically  adapted  to  takman. 
Zimmer  (Altindisches  Leben,  1879,  p.  375  ff.),  in  ac- 
cord with  the  later  medicine,  sees  in  it  a  pulmonary 
disease.  But  a  variety  of  yaksma,  called  jayenya 
(Taitt.  Sam.  I.e.),  is  probably  identical  with  the 
Atharvan  jaydnya  ;  for  jaydnya  is  associated  witli 
yaksma  in  Atharv.  xix.  44.  2,  and  called  rajayak- 
sma by  Kesava  at  Kaui.  xxxii.  11.  All  this  will 
be  correct  if  yaksma  means  simply  '  disease,'  and 
still  in  harmony  both  with  Darila's  statement 
(loc.  cit.),  that  jaydnya  is  some  species  of  tumour 
(aksata),  and  the  fact  that  both  etymology  and  the 
ritual  point  to  jdydnya's  being  a  venereal  disease. 
Venereal  disease  (gramya)  is  treated  in  ■  Kaui. 
xxvii.  32  f.,  while  the  hymn  there  rubricated  deals 
with  ajnatayaksma  and  rajayaksma.  Sayana's 
statement,  that  consumption  produced  by  sexual 
excesses  is  meant,  is  evidently  an  attempt  to 
harmonize  the  ritual  with  the  meaning  of  yaksmn, 
in  the  later  medicine.  Here  may  be  added  the 
mention  of  '  abscesses '  (vidradha,  vi.  127,  ix.  8.  20) ; 
'  scrofulous  swellings '  (apachit) ;  and  the  similar, 
but  harder,  '  closed  tumours '  (aksata,  vi.  25  and 
57,  vii.  74.  1-2,  76.  1-3).  Leprosy  (kildsa)  is  the 
object  of  two  hymns  (i.  23  and  24).  Kesava  also 
assigns  to  its  cure  the  practice  (Kaui.  xxviii.  13) 
with  the  kustha-ipl&nt,  which  Darila,  supported 
by  the  Ganamald,  declares  to  be  a  cure  for  fever. 
Kesava's  statement  has  probably  no  deeper  basis 
than  the  fact  that  kustha  in  the  later  language 
means  leprosy. 

Ksetriya  is  another  term  of  uncertain  meaning. 
The  Atharvavedins  regularly  explain  it  as  'in- 
herited disease,'  though  'chronic  disease'  has 
recently  been  suggested  by  Jolly.  No  description 
of  its  symptoms  is  given.  As  in  the  case  of 
yaksma,  the  inclusion  of  its  hymns  (ii.  8  and  10,  iii. 
7  [cf.  besides  ii.  14.  5])  in  the  takmanaianagana 
suggests  either  a  disease  of  marked  febrile  character 
or  a  general  term  for  disease.  Even  if,  as  is  most 
probable,  the  word  means  'hereditary,'  there  is 
no  reason  to  believe  that  the  designation  was 
accurate. 

Easily  identified,  on  the  other  hand,  is  dropsy 
(jalodara).  To  its  cure  i.  10,  vi.  22-24  and  96,  and 
vii.  83  are  devoted.  In  vi.  24  it  is  associated  with 
heart  disease — an  instance  of  good  diagnosis.  The 
mention  in  the  same  hymn  of  pain  in  the  eyes, 
heels,  and  front  part  of  the  foot  refers  to  the 
characteristic  puffing  of  these  parts.  Heart-disease 
(hrdyota,  hrdaydmaya)  is  mentioned  only  inci- 
dentally (i.  22.  1,  v.  20.  12,  30.  9,  vi.  14.  1,  24. 
1,  127.  3),  and  probably  referred  to  any  pain  in 
the  region  of  the  heart.  Paralysis  (paksahata,  lit. 
hemiplegia)  is  mentioned  in  the  Kauiika  itself 
(xxxi.  18),  but  the  hymn  rubricated  is  extremely 
obscure,  and  was  probably  not  intended  for  this 
purpose. 

Excessive  discharges  (dsrdva),  and  in  particular 
diarrhoea  (atisdra  of  the  later  medicine),  have  for 
their  cure  i.  2,  ii.  3,  and  probably  also  vi.  44  (cf. 
above).      There  is   perhaps  an   allusion   to  it  in 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Vedic) 


7C5 


connexion  with  fever  in  v.  22.  4.  The  opposite 
troubles,  retention  of  urine  and  constipation,  are 
the  subject  of  i.  3  according  to  Kauiika  xxv.  10  ff. ; 
the  hymn  itself  seems,  however,  to  be  entirely 
concerned  with  the  first  of  these  diseases. 

Cough  (has,  kasa)  is  mentioned  in  connexion 
with  fever  (i.  12.  3,  v.  22.  10-12),  and  is  also  the 
object  of  a  separate  ceremony  in  which  vi.  105, 
vii.  107  are  rubricated.  Balasa  is  variously  inter- 
preted as  '  consumption '  and  as  '  internal  sores '  ; 
the  assonance  both  with  kasa  and  with  kildsa  is 
noteworthy,  and  strengthens  both  interpretations. 
The  hymn  in  which  it  figures  most  prominently 
is  vi.  14,  rubricated  by  Kaui.  xxix.  30  in  a  cere- 
mony which  Kesava  terms  a  '  phlegm-cure.'  This 
term  cannot,  however,  be  taken  to  indicate  neces- 
sarily some  throat  disease,  as  it  means  any  disease 
ascribed  to  an  abnormal  condition  of  the  '  phlegm  ' 
in  the  technical  sense  of  the  later  medicine  (for 
Kesava's  use  of  such  terms  cf.  xxvi.  1  and  28). 
Balasa  is  also  mentioned  in  iv.  9.  8,  v.  22.  11-12, 
vi.  127.  1-2,  ix.  8.  8,  10,  xix.  34.  10.  In  connexion 
with  it  (v.  22.  11)  appears  udyuga,  perhaps 
'spasm.' 

Headache  (Hrsakti,  Ursdmaya)  is  mentioned  in 
i.  12.  3  and  v.  4.  10,  both  times  in  connexion  with 
fever,  and  also  in  ix.  8 — an  effort  to  enumerate  all 
diseases.  The  practice  of  Kaui.  xxviii.  13  is  said 
by  Darila  to  be  a  cure  for  headache,  while  Kesava 
applies  it  in  a  broader  fashion.  Neuralgia  (visal- 
yaka)  is  mentioned  in  vi.  127,  ix.  8.  2,  xix.  44.  2 ; 
pain  in  the  ribs  (prstydmaya,  inter-costal  neural- 
gia ?)  in  xix.  34.  10  ;  rheumatic  troubles  are  perhaps 
meant  by  viskandha,  and  saihskandha  (i.  16.  3,  ii. 
4,  iii.  9.  6,  iv.  9.  5,  xix.  34.  5,  35.  1) ;  with  these 
may  be  associated  viiara  (ii.  4.  2),  diarika,  and 
viiarika  (xix.  34.  10).  Some  sharp  internal  pain  is 
ascribed  in  vi.  90  to  the  spear  of  Rudra.  Its  exact 
nature  is  indeterminable,  but  the  later  medicine 
applies  the  same  term  to  colic.  A  '  limb-splitting ' 
disease  (ahgabheda)  also  occurs  in  xix.  44.  2,  while 
two  hymns  (ii.  33,  ix.  8)  aim  at  eradicating  pain 
and  disease  from  all  parts  of  the  body.  Pains  in 
the  eyes  (cf.  also  v.  4.  10,  23.  3,  vi.  24.  2,  127.  3) 
and  ears  may  be  especially  mentioned.  A  separate 
charm  for  diseases  of  the  eye  (alaji  occurs  also  in 
ix.  8.  20  as  the  name  of  some  form  of  eye  disease) 
is  found  in  vi.  16  according  to  its  manipulation  in 
Kaui.  xxx.  1-6.  The  parallelism  of  the  hymn 
with  v.  23  suggests  that  the  pains  in  the  eyes  are 
ascribed  to  the  presence  of  worms.  For  diseases 
ascribed  to  worms  cf.  above. 

Of  more  external  evils  a  'flow  of  blood'  (lohita, 
vi.  127,  vilohita,  ix.  8.  1,  xii.  4.  4)  means,  perhaps, 
bleeding  at  the  nose  (cf.  the  association  with 
diseases  of  the  head  in  ix.  8.  1).  A  special  charm 
against  bleeding  is  i.  17  (rubricated  at  Kaui.  xxvi. 
10),  to  stop,  according  to  Kesava,  either  an  external 
or  internal  hemorrhage,  or  excessive  menstruation. 
Against  the  last  of  these  troubles  is  directed  the 
practice  of  Kaui.  xxviii.  15,  rubricating  v.  6.  The 
cure  of  wounds  and  fractures  is  the  object  of  iv.  12 
and  v.  5  (rubricated  at  Kaui.  xxviii.  5-6  and  14). 
Wounds  or  sores  of  unknown  origin  (ajndtarus) 
are  healed  with  vi.  83.  4.  In  a  snake-infested 
country  like  India  cures  for  poison  were  sure  to  be 
in  demand.  For  the  poisonous  bites  of  snakes  the 
Atharva  contains  three  charms  (v.  13,  vi.  12,  x.  4), 
besides  one  (vii.  56)  against  the  bites  of  scorpions 
and  other  poisonous  reptiles,  and  another  (iv.  6 
and  7)  against  the  poison  of  arrows.  Internal 
poisoning  does  not  seem  to  have  been  treated 
separately. 

In  certain  forms  of  disease,  e.g.  mania,  epilepsy, 
the  distinction  from  possession  is  very  slight. 
In  case  of  possession,  iv.  20  and  37,  vi.  2.  2,  or  52, 
or  111  (this  last  hymn  speaking  unmistakably  of 
madness),  or  the  chdtanagana  (list  of  hymns  for 


expulsion  of  demons)  may  be  employed.  In  a  rite 
against  madness,  Kaui.  xxviii.  12,  Atliarv.  v.  1.  7 
is  rubricated ;  epilepsy  (apasmdra)  is  said  by  Kesava 
to  be  one  of  the  diseases  for  which  i.  22  is  employed 
at  Kaui.  xxvi.  14-21.  Grdhi,  '  fit,'  '  seizure,  is 
practically  a  she-demon  (cf.  ii.  9.  1,  10.  6,  iii.  11.  1, 
vi.  112.  1,  viii.  2.  12,  xii.  3.  18).  Another  demon 
which  seizes  children  is  jambha — apparently  a  de- 
signation of  convulsions  or  lock-jaw  (cf.  ii.  4.  2 ; 
Kaui.  xxxii.  1-2). 

The  Kauiika,  in  accordance  with  its  method  of 
treating  symptoms,  has  also  cures  for  '  thirst ' 
(xxvii.  9-13)  and  'fright'  (xxvi.  26  f.),  which  we 
should  hardly  class  as  diseases.  The  latter  may  be 
what  we  call  nervousness,  but  V.  Henry  has  no 
warrant  for  interpreting  the  former  as  dipsomania. 
Inauspicious  marks  (cf.  art.  Prodigies  [ V edic])  on 
the  body  (pdpalaksana,  xxxi.  1  ;  arista,  xxviii. 
15)  are  also  treated  as  diseases.  Kesava  thinks 
that  the  ceremony  to  remove  wrinkles  (Kaui. 
xxv.  4  f . )  has  reference  only  to  wrinkles  in  a  young 
man,  in  whom  they  are  portentous.  The  cere- 
mony to  stop  the  loss  of  hair  (Kaui.  xxxi.  28), 
employing  two  hymns,  vi.  136  f.,  evidently  com- 
posed for  this  very  purpose,  is  to  be  ascribed  to 
the  same  motive  rather  than  to  vanity.  A  person 
whose  hair  has  come  into  contact  with  a  iami-tree 
is  called  iamiiuna  ( '  cut  by  a  iami-tvee '),  and  is 
supposed  to  be  in  danger  of  suffering  some  injury 
to  his  hair.  For  his  benefit  is  the  ceremony  of 
Kaui.  xxxi.  1,  and  the  hymn  rubricated  seems  to 
have  had  the  same  case  in  view. 

Finally,  a  number  of  ceremonies  are  designated 
as  panaceas  (cf.  Kaui.  xxv.  4-5,  20,  21,  22-36, 
xxvi.  1,  34,  xxvii.  5-6,  27,  34,  xxviii.  8,  17-20, 
xxx.  17-18,  xxxi.  5,  xxxii.  3-4,  18-19,  26-27), 
though  in  some  cases  a  more  narrow  interpretation 
seems  possible. 

(4)  The  materia  medica  of  the  Atharvans. — That 
the  waters  should  be  considered  healing  is  most 
natural  in  virtue  of  both  their  cleansing  and  their 
cooling  properties.  So  it  is  stated  in  Atharv.  ii. 
29.  6  that  the  waters  give  strength,  and  in  iii. 
7.  5  =  vi.  91.  3  that  they  are  remedial  and  expel 
disease  (cf.  also  the  passages  from  the  Rigveda 
cited  below).  In  the  Kauiika,  water  is  employed 
most  frequently,  either  for  its  own  sake  (so  the 
holy  water  in  xxxi.  21)  or  as  a  vehicle  for  other 
remedies.  To  the  waters  are  especially  devoted 
the  hymns,  Atharv.  i.  4-6,  employed  as  a  panacea 
at  Kaui.  xxv.  20,  and  vi.  22-24,  employed  as  cures 
for  dropsy  at  Kaui.  xxx.  11-13.  Of  particularly 
great  efficacy,  however,  is  the  water  dug  up  by 
ants  (cf.  Atharv.  ii.  3,  vi.  100,  and  Bloomheld, 
Am.  Jour.  Phil.  vii.  482 ff.).  Hence  earth  from 
an  ant-hill  serves  as  an  amulet,  a  drink,  or  an 
external  application  for  the  cure  of  diarrhoea, 
etc.  (Kaui.  xxv.  7),  and  of  ksetriya  (xxvi.  43);  and  as 
an  antidote  for  poison  (xxxi.  26,  xxxii.  6).  There 
is  the  possibility  of  the  patient's  receiving  sufficient 
formic  acid  (cf.  art.  Charms  and  Amulets  [Vedic] 
for  method  of  investiture)  to  act  as  a  cathartic. 
In  all  these  passages,  except  xxxi.  26,  there  is 
associated  with  it  a  lump  of  ordinary  earth.  The 
separate  use  of  the  latter  as  an  emetic  in  Kaui. 
xxviii.  3  (so  Darila)  is  doubtful,  as  Kesava  and 
Sayana  understand  the  fruit  of  the  madana-tree. 
Noteworthy  is  the  fact  that  both  the  clod  of  earth 
and  the  ant-hill  seem  to  be  looked  upon  as  growths 
(cf.  their  inclusion  in  the  list  of  auspicious  plants, 
Kaui.  viii.  16).  Similar  remedies  are  earth  from 
a  mole-hill,  to  cure  constipation  (Kaui.  xxv.  11), 
this  material  being  selected  because  the  animal 
makes  its  way  through  dark  passages,  and  also 
because  one  of  its  names,  dkhukarisa,  is  com- 
pounded with  a  word  for  '  excrement '  (cf.  data- 
patha  Brahmuna,  ii.  1.  1.  8)  ;  and  earth  from  a 
bee-hive  (xxix.  10),  as  an  antidote  to  poison. 


766 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Vedic) 


Plants  are  to  the  Vedic  mind  the  offspring  and 
the  essence  of  the  waters,  the  embodiment  of  their 
curative  properties.  Hence  they,  too,  are  implored 
to  bestow  remedies  (cf.  Atharv.  vi.  96,  and  esp. 
the  long  hymn  viii.  7  addressed  to  all  plants,  and 
nsed  as  a  panacea  at  Kaui.  xxvi.  40 ;  cf.  also 
the  osadhi-stuti  of  the  Eigveda  cited  below).  The 
list  of  plants  employed  as  remedies  in  the  KauHka 
is  long,  and  comprises  the  following  :  in  a  number 
of  passages  (xxv.  20,  xxvi.  40,  xxvii.  5,  20,  33, 
xxix.  30,  xxx.  8,  11,  xxxi.  8)  the  prescription  calls 
simply  for  '  auspicious  trees,'  that  is,  the  trees 
enumerated  in  viii.  15.  Of  trees  in  this  list  are 
specifically  prescribed  :  palaia  =  Butea  frondosa 
(xxv.  30,  xxvi.  34),  a  tree  of  pre-eminent  holiness 
because  of  its  mythical  associations  (cf.  art. 
Charms  and  Amulets  [Vedic]) ;  kdmpila  =  Crinum 
amaryllacecs  (xxvii.  7,  xxviii.  8) ;  varana  —  Cratmva 
roxb.  (xxvi.  37 ;  cf.  same  art.) ;  jahgida— Terminalia 
arjuna  (xxvi.  43)  ;  vetasa  =  Calamus  rotanq  (xxvii. 
10).  Other  remedies  figure  in  the  list  of  auspicious 
plants  [Kaui.  viii.  16) :  iaml=Prosopis  spicigera 
(xxviii.  9,  xxxi.  1) ;  Samakd  (xxxi.  1) ;  darbha- 
grass=Poa  cynosurides  (xxv.  37,  xxvi.  30,  xxvii. 
23,  xxxi.  2  [Com.]) ;  also,  after  its  use  as  sacrificial 
straw,  barhis  (xxv.  31) ;  durva-grass= millet  (xxvi. 
13) ;  rice  (xxix.  18 ;  cf.  also  the  use  of  porridges, 
below) ;  and  barley,  yava  (xxv.  17,  27,  xxvi.  2,  35, 
43,  xxviii.  20,  xxx.  17),  efficacious  because  fanci- 
fully connected  with  yavayati,  'he  separates.' 
Another  plant  not  in  this  list,  but  evidently  em- 
ployed because  of  its  holiness  is  the  soma-plant 
(xxxi.  22). 

Other  plants  owe  their  efficacy  as  remedies  to 
their  anti-demoniacal  qualities  (for  these  qualities 
cf.  art.  Witchcraft  [Vedic]) :  ihgida-oil  (xxv. 
30) ;  tila,  taila  —  sesamum  and  the  oil  made  from 
it  (xxvi.  1,  13,  43,  xxvii.  33,  xxix.  8) ;  reed  (xxvi. 
27);  virina  and  uiira  =  Andropogon  muricatus 
(xxv.  30,  xxvi.  26,  xxix.  24-26,  xxxii.  13)  ;  hemp 
(xxv.  28,  xxvii.  33) ;  khadira= Acacia  catechu  (xxv. 
23 f.) ;  mustard  (xxv.  23,  27,  31,  xxx.  Iff.;  cf.  also 
the  Astmkalpa,  Atharv.  Par.  35);  trapusa= colo- 
cynth  (xxv.  23  ;  also  mentioned  by  Kesava  at 
xxvi.  22,  where  it  seems  to  be  used  principally  for 
its  colouring  property).  The  use  of  wood  from  a 
club  (xxv.  23)  belongs  to  the  same  category. 

A  number  of  other  plants  owe  their  employment 
to  more  or  less  fanciful  etymologies :  maw/a-grass 
= Saccharum  munja  (xxv.  6,  xxvi.  2,  33,  xxxii.  3), 
associated  with  munchati,  '  he  loosens. '  Leaves  of 
the  paraSu-txee,  '  axe-tree,'  are  employed  at  xxx. 
14  to  cause  sores  to  open,  and  wood  of  the  krmuka- 
tree  at  xxviii.  2  to  cure  wounds  inflicted  by  poisoned 
arrows,  because  karmuka  means  'bow.  Growth 
of  the  hair  is  promoted  (xxxi.  28)  by  the  nitatni- 
plant,  '  she  that  takes  root,'  with  which  are 
associated  the  jivi  (root  jiv,  'to  live')  and  the 
alaka  plants.  The  laksa  of  xxviii.  5  seems  to  be 
a  synonym  for  arundhati  of  the  hymn  iv.  12,  felt 
to  contain  arus,  '  wound,'  and  the  root  dha,  '  to 
set,'  and  hence  employed  to  cure  fractures  and 
wounds.  Bunches  of  grass  (stamba)  are  employed 
(xxix.  4)  to  confine  (root  stambh)  the  effects  of 
poison  ;  they  are  also  added  (xxxii.  3,  14)  to  water 
with  which  a  patient  is  washed  or  sprinkled. 

In  addition  are  employed :  lotus  roots  (bisa, 
combined  with  ala  and  ula,  xxv.  18) ;  handra= 
Curcuma  longa,  as  a  cure  for  jaundice  (xxvi.  18) 
[because  of  its  yellow  colour],  as  an  antidote  to 
poison  (xxviii.  4,  xxxii.  7  [Com.]),  or  as  a  panacea 
(xxxi.  5  [Com.]).  It  is  also  prescribed,  according 
to  the  commentators,  in  the  cure  for  leprosy  of 
xxvi.  22.  As  the  cure  consists  merely  in  painting 
out  the  spot,  Eclipta  prostrata  or  indigo  may  be 
used  instead.  There  is  mention  also  of  priniparni 
—  Hemionitis  cordifolia  roxb.  (xxvi.  36) ;  pippall, 
pepper  (xxvi.  38) ;  black  beans  (xxvii.  14) ;  sadam- 


puspa  (xxviii.  7);  kustha  (xxviii.  13);  alabu  = 
Lagenaria  vulgaris  (xxix.  13  f.);  khalatula  (xxix. 
15  f.) ;  karira=  Capparis  aphylla  roxb.  (xxix.  20) ; 
Hgru=Moringa  pterygosperma  (xxix.  23);  iaka  = 
Tectona  grandis  (xxx.  4) ;  vibhitaka-jiut=Bellerica 
terminalia  (xxx.  9) ;  reiiarfd-plant  (xxx.  10) ;  iami- 
bimba=Momordica  monadelpha  (xxxi.  8);  Urna- 
parni=Azadirachta  indica  (xxxi.  8);  priyangu  = 
Panicum  italicum  (xxxii.  2).  The  commentators 
at  xxv.  10  also  mention,  as  instances  of  substances 
that  promote  micturition,  camphor,  Terminalia 
chebula,  and  haritaki. 

The  fragrant  powders  employed  in  xxvi.  29  are 
probably  made  from  plants,  and  owe  their  efficacy 
to  their  fragrance,  just  as  the  use  of  liquorice 
(xxxii.  5)  is  due  to  its  sweetness.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  putika-gi&ss  is  employed  (xxv.  11)  in 
a  cure  for  constipation,  because  of  the  offensive 
odour  implied  in  its  name. 

Next  in  prominence  to  the  plants  are  the  products 
of  the  cow,  which,  as  partaking  of  its  holiness,  are 
used  either  for  their  own  efficacy,  or  as  a  suitable 
vehicle  for  other  remedies  :  butter  (ajya  and  sarpis, 
xxv.  4,  8,  xxvi.  1,  8,  29-33,  xxvii.  14,  xxviii.  4,  13, 
xxix.  22  f.,  Com.  to  xxxi.  5  and  xxxii.  7);  curds 
(dadhi,  xxvi.  13) ;  milk  (xxvi.  17,  xxviii.  14,  xxxi. 
24,  xxxii.  2) ;  milk  and  butter  (xxviii.  6)  ;  butter- 
milk (xxxi.  23).  The  hair  of  a  red  steer  is  employed 
(xxvi.  14),  cow-dung  (xxvi.  22),  and  cow-urine,  the 
particular  remedy  of  Kudra  (cf.  below),  at  xxxi. 
11.  The  poAchagavya  (five  products  of  the  cow), 
which  afterwards  becomes  a  potent  panacea,  is  not 
yet  concocted,  though  all  its  ingredients  are  in  use. 
Its  preparation  and  administration  are  described 
in  one  of  the  Atharvan  Parisistas,  Brahmakurcha- 
vidhi. 

Food  of  any  sort  (xxviii.  12,  15,  xxix.  16).  may- 
serve  as  a  vehicle,  but  porridges  (xxvi.  19,  xxvii. 
10,  31,  xxviii.  3,  16,  xxix.  15,  Com.  at  xxxi.  5  and 
xxxii.  7),  especially  rice  porridges  (xxvi.  18,  xxvii. 
32,  xxix.  27),  are  thus  employed  most  frequently, 
or  even  separately  administered.  Honey  (xxvi.  1, 
xxviii.  28,  xxxi.  23)  and  fat  (xxvi.  1)  are  also  pre- 
scribed, and  in  xxxii.  1  the  mother's  breast  serves 
as  a  vehicle  for  giving  medicine  to  an  infant. 

A  number  of  substances  are  applied,  on  account 
of  their  ofi'ensiveness,  to  sores,  in  the  hope  of  in- 
ducing them  to  fly  away  :  powdered  shell  and  dog's 
saliva  (xxx.  16) ;  the  scomings  of  teeth  and  pollen 
of  grass  (xxxi.  14  f.);  rock-salt  and  spittle  (xxxi. 
17).  Comparable  perhaps  is  the  administration  of 
rotten  fish  in  xxvii.  32.  Of  animals  comparatively 
little  use  is  made ;  the  frog  figures  in  a  cure  for 
fever  (xxxii.  17),  and  yellow  birds  in  a  cure  for 
jaundice  (xxvi.  18),  but  in  both  cases  the  disease  is 
to  be  transferred  to  them.  The  porcupine  serves 
in  xxix.  11  f .  as  an  antidote  to  poison,  because  he 
is  an  animal  not  liable  to  trouble  from  snakes. 
For  the  same  purpose  also  an  unknown  insect  is 
employed  as  a  representative  of  the  mythical  steed 
of  Pedu  (cf.  Bloomfield,  SBE  xlii.  605  ff.).  Also 
for  mythical  reasons  are  employed  in  xxxi.  18  ft'. 
earth  that  a  dog  has  stepped  upon,  and  a  louse 
from  a  dog  (cf.  ib.  p.  500 ff.).  Manufactured 
articles  are  employed  chiefly  as  amulets  (cf. 
below).  There  occur  also :  wood-shavings  (xxv.  11) ; 
grass  from  a  thatch  (xxv.  37,  xxvii.  3,  xxix.  8, 
xxx.  13,  Com.  at  xxxi.  2) ;  old  clothes  and  broom 
(xxviii.  2)  ;  bowstring  (xxix,  9,  xxxii.  8,  10) ; 
pramanda,  tooth-wash  (xxv.  11). 

The  efficacy  of  these  remedies  depends  not  en- 
tirely upon  themselves,  but  also  upon  the  method 
of  their  preparation  and  administration.  In  the 
first  place,  as  in  other  magic  performances,  there 
is  a  quasi-religious  performance  (cf.  art.  Magic 
[Vedic]),  and  the  remedies  are  regularly  daubed 
with  the  leavings  (sampata)  of  the  ottering.  There 
are  other  requirements  besides  :  the  offerings  must 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Vedic) 


76; 


sometimes  be  made  from  cornucopias  instead  of  a 
spoon  (xxv.  30),  or  the  medicine  must  be  ad- 
ministered from  cornucopia;  (xxviii.  8),  or  from 
a  particular  sort  of  cow's  horn  (xxxi.  6),  or  a  red 
copper  vessel  (xxix.  19),  or  through  a  yoke  (xxvii. 
1),  or  with  a  pestle  (xxix.  22) ;  or  must  be  prepared 
in  a  vessel  of  reed  and  stirred  with  a  reed  (xxvii. 
10),  or  stirred  with  poisoned  arrows  (xxviii.  3) ;  or 
the  fire  used  must  be  a  forest  fire  (xxix.  19),  or 
made  of  birds'  nests  (xxix.  27) ;  or  built  on  a  mat 
of  reeds  floating  in  water  (xxix.  30).  The  place  of 
the  ceremony  is  not  always  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence :  one  cure  of  dropsy  (xxxii.  14)  must  be  at- 
tempted at  the  confluence  of  two  streams,  other 
cures  at  the  cross-roads  (xxv.  30,  xxx.  18),  or  in 
a  ditch  (xxvii.  4).  The  position  of  the  patient 
(xxvii.  10,  25),  the  clothing  and  food  of  the  cele- 
brant (xxxi.  28),  are  also  efficacious.  So,  too,  is 
the  time  of  the  ceremony  :  thus  that  of  xxvii.  21- 
25  must  be  repeated  at  sunrise,  noon,  and  sunset. 
The  time  most  frequently  prescribed  is  avanaksatre 
(xxvii.  29,  xxviii.  5,  xxx.  9  [Darila],  xxxi.  28,  'at 
the  time  when  the  stars  fade  away  ').  The  purpose 
is  clearly  expressed  in  Atharv.  iii.  7.  7  :  '  when  the 
constellations  fade  away  and  when  the  dawn  fades 
away,  (then)  shall  he  shine  away  from  us  every 
evil  and  the  ksetriya.'  In  one  case  (xxxi.  28), 
where  the  purpose  is  to  secure  (black)  hair,  the 
time  is  further  defined  as  '  before  the  crows  come.' 
(5)  The  Atharvan  methods  of  treating  diseases. — 
Of  practices  of  a  real  therapeutic  value  the  Kauiika 
contains  but  little.  The  most  delicate  is  the  prob- 
ing of  the  urethra,  which  seems  to  be  prescribed 
(xxv.  15-16)  for  the  relief  of  one  suffering  from 
retention  of  urine.  It  is  instructive  to  observe 
that  the  discovery  of  this  operation  may  be  due  to 
an  attempt  to  carry  out  practically  the  statements 
of  the  hymn  :  '  I  split  open  thy  pasas  like  the  dike 
of  a  lake,'  and  '  relaxed  is  the  opening  of  thy 
bladder.'  Originally,  however,  these  were  probably 
nothing  but  the  usual  statements  of  the  conjurer 
that  he  was  accomplishing  what  he  wanted  to 
accomplish.  A  similar  instance  (at  a  later  period) 
of  the  evolution  of  a  practical  out  of  a  magical 
proceeding  may  be  seen  in  Darila's  comment  on 
xxv.  12,  where  the  giving  of  an  enema  is  substituted 
for  an  operation,  the  symbolism  of  which  should  be 
transparent.  The  same  hymn  (Atharv.  i.  3)  har- 
bours another  practice,  the  real  value  of  which 
may  have  helped  the  Atharvavedins  in  the  cure  of 
minor  troubles.  The  urine  is  to  come  out  with  the 
sound  '  splash,'  and  the  ritual  speaks  also  of  the 
pouring  out  of  water — a  piece  of  symbolism  to  be 
attributed  unhesitatingly  to  the  time  of  the  com- 

Eosition  of  the  hymn.  The  sound  of  flowing  water, 
owever,  does  exercise  a  beneficial  influence  in  such 
cases,  especially  when  the  trouble  is  of  a  nervous 
origin.  A  compress  of  sand  is  employed  (KauL 
xxvi.  10)  to  stop  the  flow  of  blood,  and  the  practice 
is  indicated  in  the  hymn  itself  (Atharv.  i.  17.  4). 
In  KavA.  xxviii.  3  an  emetic  is  given  to  one  wounded 
by  a  poisoned  arrow.  The  application  of  leeches  to 
sores  is  found  in  KauS.  xxx.  16,  but  accompanied 
by  other  ceremonies  that  one  would  expect  to  pro- 
duce infection  of  the  wound  ;  and  the  same  may 
be  said  of  the  breaking  of  pustules  (xxxi.  10)  by 
rubbing  them  against  the  door-post.  In  KatU. 
xxxii.  24  a  torch  is  applied  to  the  bite  of  a  serpent. 
The  original  intent  must  have  been  symbolic,  but 
the  result  may  have  been  some  sort  of  cauterization. 
Apart  from  these  instances,  the  treatment  is 
always  magical.  As  usual  in  the  Atharva,  it  is 
magic  veneered  with  religion.  The  employment  of 
a  hymn  is  regularly  accompanied  with  an  oblation, 
perhaps  even  inserted  in  the  elaborate  framework 
of  the  New  and  Full  Moon  Sacrifice  (cf.  art.  MAGIC 
[Vedic]);  and  it  is  this  oblation,  generally  through 
the  leavings  of  the  offering,  that  gives  efficacy  to 


the  ceremony.  Of  the  hymns  but  little  need  be 
said,  as  all  are  accessible  in  translations.1  They 
are  prayers  addressed  to  the  gods,  or  to  the  disease, 
or  to  the  remedy,  with  more  or  less  explicit  indica- 
tion of  what  is  wanted  of  them.  Sometimes  the 
author  adopts  a  more  confident  tone,  especially 
when  he  knows  the  name  or  lineage  of  the  disease, 
or  its  remedy,  and  thus  has  them  in  his  power. 
Then  he  states  what  he  is  doing,  or  orders  the 
disease  to  depart.  For,  according  to  a  well-known 
principle  of  magic,  a  verbal  statement  is  an  efficient 
symbolical  imitation  of  an  act. 

The  ceremonies  are  of  greater  interest.  As  the 
diseases  are  generally  ascribed  to  a  demon,  the 
problem  for  the  practitioner  is  the  removal  of  this 
troublesome  being.  The  methods  of  accomplishing 
this  are  in  general  either  to  propitiate  or  to  exorcize 
the  spirit,  and  in  this  we  have  the  division  into 
homoeopathy  and  allopathy.  In  the  one  case,  the 
demon  is  given  what  is  most  acceptable  to  him,  as 
being  of  his  own  nature ;  in  the  other  case,  he  is 
brought  into  contact  with  what  is  presumably  the 
most  repugnant  to  him. 

Some  ceremonies  in  which  the  exorcistic  character 
is  specially  noticeable  are  :  KauS.  xxv.  22-36, 
rubrication  of  the  chatanagana  (list  of  expelling 
hymns) ;  xxvii.  6,  xxxii.  18,  in  which  the  cure  is 
effected  by  the  laying  on  of  hands ;  xxviii.  11,  in 
which  a  ring  of  magic  powder  is  drawn  round  the 
house  to  prevent  the  return  of  the  demon  ;  xxix.  7, 
where  the  door  is  opened  to  facilitate  the  departure 
of  the  demon  ;  and  xxxi.  3,  a  curious  ceremony  in 
which  the  offering  is  made  in  a  fire  surrounded  by 
a  ditch  filled  with  hot  water,  the  potency  of  this 
ring  having  been  increased  by  circumambulation. 
The  apparatus  seems  to  be  a  trap  for  the  demons. 

The  methods  by  which  the  magical  substance  is 
brought  into  contact  with  the  patient  may  next  be 
noted.  In  cases  where  this  constitutes  the  whole 
of  the  ceremony  the  references  are  in  italic  figures. 
Inhalation  :  wood  is  laid  on  the  fire,  and,  according 
to  vii.  28,  the  patient  breathes  the  smoke.  This  is 
part  of  the  ceremony  for  expelling  demons  (xxv.  23) 
and  worms  (xxvii.  17,  20,  repeated  at  xxvii.  26, 
xxix.  30).  Its  use  alone  (xxv.  20  f.)  as  a  panacea 
must  also  be  simply  exorcistic.  Fumigation  occurs 
at  xxxi.  19  and  22.  The  breath  of  the  performer 
is  also  efficacious  (xxv.  9).  The  power  in  the  laying 
on  of  hands  has  already  been  met  with  ;  hence  it  is 
not  surprising  to  find  that  poison  may  be  driven  out 
(xxxii.  23)  by  rubbing  the  patient  from  head  to 
foot.  Rubbing  is  also  prescribed  (xxxi.  9)  for  sores 
and  (xxv.  5)  for  wrinkles.  There  are  many  applica- 
tions that  must  be  smeared  or  rubbed  on,  as  oint- 
ments (xxv.  4,  xxviii.  6,  10,  xxx.  5,  xxxi.  9) ;  other 
substances  are  either  smeared  over  the  whole  body 
of  the  patient  (xxvi.  18,  29,  36,  xxviii.  13)  or  applied 
locally  (xxv.  8,  xxvi.  22,  34,  xxix.  23,  xxxi.  18,  26). 
All  these  applications  seem  intended  to  benefit  the 
patient ;  but  in  another  .group  of  cases  (cf.  above) 
the  purpose  is  apparently  to  drive  sores  away  by 
applying  to  them  the  most  offensive  substances. 
Whenever  any  indication  is  given,  the  rubbing 
must  be  downwards,  to  drive  the  trouble  into  the 
part  of  the  body  where  it  can  do  least  injury, 
and  finally  out  of  the  feet.  This  rule,  implied  in 
Rigveda  x.  60.  11-12,  may  be  taken  as  universal; 
so  also  the  precept  {Kaai.  xxviii.  13)  that  the  rub- 
bing must  not  be  reversed.  When  this  is  done,  its 
effect  is  destructive,  and  hence  it  is  employed 
(xxix.  22)  to  kill  worms. 

Two  other  methods,  aplavana,  '  the  pouring  on,' 
and  avasechana,  '  the  sprinkling  on,'  are  distin- 
guished also  by  the  fact  that  the  water  in  the 
former  case  contains  the  leavings  of  the  offering, 

1  For  such  as  are  nob  included  in  Bloomfield's  translation,  cf. 
the  Whitney-Lanman  tr.  of  the  Atharvaveda  Saihhita,  Harvard 
Oriental  Series,  vols.  vii.  and  viii. 


768 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Vedic) 


while  in  the  latter  case  it  is  merely  blessed  with 
the  hymn,  unless,  as  in  xxvii.  28,  xxviii.  8,  xxix.  30, 
there  is  a  specific  direction  for  the  addition  of  the 
leavings.  In  either  case  the  patient  is  wiped 
down  (vii.  17)  from  head  to  foot,  and  given  (vii.  26) 
some  of  the  water  to  drink.  The  water  may, 
of  course,  contain  other  substances  also,  and  the 
position  of  the  patient  and  the  manner  in  which  it 
is  to  be  poured  are  also  in  some  cases  specified. 
Instances  of  the  aplavana  are  xxvi.  41,  xxvii.  4,  7, 
34,  xxviii.  19,  xxix.  26,  xxxii.  3,  14 ;  of  the  avase- 
chana,  xxv.  17,  37,  xxvi.  25,  31,  xxvii.  1,  8,  28,  29, 
33,  xxviii.  2, 5,  8,  xxix.  8,  9,  30,  xxx.  8-10, 13,  xxxi. 
2,  28,  xxxii.  4,  10,  15,  17.  The  two  are  sometimes 
combined  (xxvi.  41,  xxvii.  1,  4,  and  7-8,  xxxii.  3-4 
and  14-15).  In  the  last  case  hot  water  is  used  for 
the  one,  cold  water  for  the  other.  Other  methods 
of  washing,  chiefly  of  a  more  local  nature,  are 
xxv.  34,  xxviii.  1,  xxx.  11,  xxxi.  1,  11,  13.  The 
leavings  of  the  offerings  are  also  put  directly  upon 
the  patient's  head  (xxvi.  39,  xxix.  19),  or  blessed 
substances  are  inserted  in  his  nostrils  (xxvi.  8, 
xxxii.  21).  Frequently  also  the  magic  substance 
is  given  to  the  patient  to  drink  (xxv.  7,  11,  18,  xxvi. 
1,  12-13,  14,  17,  xxvii.  12,  29,  xxviii.  1-4,  6,  14,  16, 
xxix.  8,  10,  11,  13,  18,  30,  xxxi.  5,  6,  23-25,  26, 
xxxii.  2,  7)  or  to  eat  (xxvi.  18,  xxvii.  31,  xxviii.  9, 
12,  15-16,  xxix.  12,  15,  25,  27,  28,  xxx.  3-6).  In 
this  way  hot  infusions  (jvala),  prepared  by  plung- 
ing a  burning  or  heated  substance  in  water,  are 
employed  (xxvii.  29,  33,  xxviii.  2,  xxix.  8,  xxx.  8, 
xxxii.  10). 

The  medicine  may  also  be  applied  as  an  amulet. 
In  this  case  the  patient  will  have  to  drink  a  solution 
in  which  the  amulet  has  been  steeped  for  three  days, 
so  that  he  may  be  benefited  more  than  would  at  first 
sight  appear  (cf .  art.  Charms  AND  AMULETS[Vedic], 
and  add  to  the  instances  cited :  Kaui.  xxvi.  11,  a 
potsherd  from  a  ruin  [?]  to  stop  the  flow  of  blood  ; 
xxvi.  21,  hairs  from  the  breast  of  a  red  steer,  glued 
together  and  wrapped  with  gold  wire,  to  cure 
jaundice;  xxvi.  26-27,  four  stalks  of  white-blooming 
Andropogon  muricatus  [virina],  or  four  pieces  of 
reed,  each  burnt  in  three  places,  to  cure  '  fright '  ; 
xxviii.  7,  sadampuspa-f>\&nt,=  Calatropis  gigantea, 
in  case  of  possession  ;  xxx.  1,  mustard  for  diseases 
of  the  eye;  xxxi.  26,  piece  of  an  ant-hill,  in 
jase  of  poison  ;  but  the  liquorice  of  xxxii.  5  is 
administered  in  liquid  form,  according  to  the 
commentators). 

The  transfer  of  a  disease  to  another  person  is  a 
wish  most  vigorously  expressed  in  Atharv.  v.  22.  4  ff. 
and  vi.  26.  3.  The  ritual  endeavours  to  accomplish 
this  in  xxvii.  9-13,  in  the  interest  of  a  person 
suffering  from  '  thirst. '  More  frequently  the  trans- 
fer is  to  an  animal :  fever  to  a  frog  (xxxii.  17), 
jaundice  to  yellow  birds  (xxvi.  18),  madness  to 
birds  (xxvi.  33).  The  selection  of  the  cross-roads 
for  some  ceremonies  is  doubtless  to  be  connected 
with  this  idea,  as  is  also  the  direction  (xxxi.  10)  for 
the  rubbing  of  sores  against  the  door-post  (cf.  also 
Atharv.  xii.  2.  19,  20). 

In  addition  to  these  general  practices  there  are 
a  number  of  symbolical  acts  adapted  to  the  special 
situation,  sometimes  with  a  great  deal  of  ingenuity, 
sometimes  in  the  most  banal  fashion.  As  it  is  im- 
possible to  describe  all  these  in  detail,  it  seems  best 
to  present  some  typical  examples  of  the  whole 
process  of  an  Atharvan  cure. 

Atharv.  i.  12  is  a  prayer  to  lightning  conceived  as  the  cause 
of  fever,  headache,  and  cough.  A  man  suffering  from  these 
diseases  is  given  to  eat  fat,  honey,  ghi,  and  sesame  oil  that  have 
been  blessed  with  this  hymn.  The  head  of  the  patient  is  then 
covered  with  a  turban  of  wmfya-grass.  This  grass  is  not  only 
connected  by  its  name  with  the  idea  of  loosening,  but  it  is  also  a 
mythical  home  of  lightning  (Agni),  from  which  the  patient  is 
planning  to  be  released.  He  then  takes  in  his  left  hand  (this  is 
inauspicious)  a  sieve  containing  parched  grain  (a  symbol  of  the 
effect  of  the  fever),  and  walks  along,  scattering  the  grain  while 
he  recites  the  hymn.  He  continues  to  advance,  carrying 
m  his  left  hand  the  sieve  and  the  turban,  in  his  right  hand  a 


bow-string  and  an  axe.  He  is  followed  by  the  celebrant,  and 
preceded  by  the  latter's  assistant — a  measure  of  precaution. 
When  some  manifestation  of  the  disease  occurs  (so  that  the 
presence  of  the  demon  is  assured),  he  lays  down  the  sieve  and 
the  turban  (the  abode  of  the  cause  of  the  disease),  and  the  pro- 
cession returns.  On  the  way  home  he  lays  down  the  bow-string 
(to  stop  pursuit  by  the  demon  who  has  been  exorcized).  Ghi 
is  blessed  with  the  hymn  and  put  up  the  patient's  nose.  Finally 
the  priest  mutters  the  hymn,  while  touching  the  patient's  head 
with  a  bamboo  staff  that  has  five  joints  (and  seems  to  serve  as  a 
conductor  of  the  magic  potency). 

In  a  case  of  jaundice,  the  practitioner  desires  to  banish  the 
yellow  colour  to  yellow  objects,  and  to  obtain  for  the  patient  a 
healthy  redness,  or,  as  the  hymn  puts  it,  '  to  envelop  him  in 
every  form  and  strength  of  the  red  cows.'  Hence  he  puts  the 
hair  of  a  red  bull  into  water,  blesses  it  with  Atharv.  i.  22,  and 
gives  it  to  the  patient  to  sip.  Then  he  pours  water  over  the 
back  of  a  red  bull,  and  gives  that  to  the  patient  to  sip.  An 
amulet,  prepared  from  the  part  of  a  hide  pierced  by  a  peg,  is 
tied  on  the  patient  while  he  is  sitting  on  the  hide  of  a  red  bull, 
and  he  is  also  given  milk  to  drink.  Next  the  patient  is  fed 
with  a  porridge  mixed  with  yellow  turmeric,  and  he  is  daubed 
with  the  rest  of  this  porridge  and  with  another  porridge  from 
which  he  has  not  eaten.  He  thus  acquires  a  yellow  coating  that 
can  easily  be  removed.  Certain  yellow  birds  are  then  tied  by 
their  left  legs  to  the  foot  of  the  couch,  and  the  patient  is  washed 
so  that  the  water  will  fall  upon  the  birds  (carrying  the  yellow 
coating  of  porridge  with  it).  If  these  cry  out,  the  patient  must 
address  them  with  the  hymn.  The  patient  is  then  given  a  por- 
ridge and  told  to  step  forth.  Finally  he  is  provided  with  an 
amulet  of  hairs  taken  from  the  breast  of  the  red  bull. 

Much  simpler  is  a  cure  for  fever  by  heating  an  axe  while 
muttering  Atharv.  i.  25,  plunging  it  in  water,  and  pouring  the 
water  thus  heated  over  the  patient.  Leprosy  may  be  cured  in 
an  equally  simple  fashion  by  rubbing  the  spot  with  cow-dung 
until  it  bleeds,  and  then  painting  it  by  rubbing  in  yellow  turmeric, 
Erfipta  prostrata,  or  indigo,  blessed  with  Atharv.  i.  23  and  24. 
Or  a  ceremony  may  be  performed  to  the  Maruts,  in  which  all 
the  ingredients  are  black. 

3.  Statements  relating  to  disease  in  other  texts. 
— In  the  Rigveda  the  interest  naturally  centres 
in  the  relation  of  the  greater  gods  to  disease. 
Among  these  Rudra  may  claim  the  first  mention  ; 
the  twofold  aspect  of  this  god  is  well  summarized 
by  the  author  of  viii.  29,  &brahm,odya,  or  series  of 
theological  charades.  Verse  5,  to  which  the  answer 
is  '  Rudra,'  runs  :  '  One  holds  a  sharp  weapon  in  his 
hand,  is  bright,  potent,  and  has  as  his  remedy  the 
jaldsa.'  On  the  one  hand,  he  is  a  malevolent  deity 
armed  with  a  '  cow-slaying,' '  man-slaying '  missile, 
whose  ill-will,  if  not  deprecated,  will  bring  injury 
and  death  to  man  and  beast  (cf.  i.  114.  7,  8,  ii.  33.  1, 
4-6,  11,  14,  15,  iv.  3.  6,  vi.  28.  7,  x.  169.  1).  These 
are  but  general  statements  of  the  association  of 
Rudra  with  disease  which  the  Atharva  (vi.  90,  and 
passages  cited  above)  expresses  in  concrete  form. 
On  the  other  hand,  as  the  sender  of  disease,  he  is 
best  qualified  to  cure  it,  and  hence  he  is  styled  (ii. 
33.  4)  '  the  most  eminent  of  physicians.'  His  heal- 
ing powers  are  mentioned  with  great  frequency,  as 
are  also  the  choice  and  numerous  remedies  he  holds 
in  his  hands.  With  them  he  is  implored  to  remove 
disease  and  make  all  sound,  both  man  and  beast. 
His  distinctive  remedy,  the  jaldsa,  is  shown  by  the 
Atharvan  ritual  to  be  cow-urine,  the  medicinal  use 
of  which  goes  back  to  Indo-Iranian  times,  as  gao- 
maeza  is  prescribed  in  the  Avesta  (cf.  Bloomfield, 
Am.  Jour.  Phil.  xii.  425-429).  For  these  aspects  of 
Rudra,  cf.  i.  43.  4,  114.  5,  ii.  33.  2,  7,  12,  13,  v.  42.  11, 
53.  14,  vi.  47.  3,  vii.  35.  6,  46.  2,  3  ;  Atharv.  ii.  27.  6. 

The  Asvins  are  also  divine  physicians,  but,  unlike 
Rudra,  they  are  invariably  beneficent  (cf.  i.  34.  6, 
89.  4,  157.  6,  vii.  71.  2,  viii.  9.  15,  18.  8,  22.  10,  x. 
39.  5;  Atharv.  vii.  53.  1).  What  is  most  character- 
istic of  them  is  that,  in  addition  to  general  invoca- 
tions of  their  healing,  aid,  stories  are  frequently 
told  of  their  cures  of  particular  individuals, 
which  are  not  to  be  explained  as  merely  myths 
relating  to  natural  phenomena.  They  restored 
Chyavana  to  youth  and  its  powers  (i.  116.  10,  117.  13, 
118.  6,  v.  74.  5,  75.  5,  vii.  68.  6,  71.  5,  x.  39.  4,  59.  1), 
and  did  the  same  for  Kali  (i.  112.  15,  x.  39.  8) ; 
probably  also  the  gift  of  a  husband  to  Ghosa 
(i.  117.  7,  x.  39.  3,  6,  40.  5)  was  preceded  by  a  similar 
rejuvenescence.  To  Rjrasva  they  restored  his 
eyesight  (i.  116.  16,  117.  17-18);  for  Vispala  they 
provided  an  iron  leg  (i.  116.  15,  US.  8),  to  replace 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Vedic) 


769 


the  one  she  had  lost  in  battle  ;  while  Paravrj  was 
cured  by  them  (i.  112.  8)  both  of  blindness  and  of 
lameness.  For  the  story  of  their  cure,  in  con- 
junction with  SarasvatI,  of  Indra,  cf.  below.  The 
methods  of  their  cures  are  not  indicated,  but 
rather  have  the  air  of  the  miraculous.  It  may  be 
noted,  however,  that  honey  is  most  closely  con- 
nected with  these  gods  (cf.  Macdonell,  Ved. 
My t hoi.,  1897,  p.  49),  and  also  possesses  medical 
efficiency  (cf.  above,  including  all  cases  of  amulets). 

In  still  another  way  Varuna  is  brought  into 
connexion  with  disease.  Disease  is  the  punish- 
ment of  sin,  and  Varuna  is  the  moral  governor  kut' 
i^oxhv.  The  connexion  is  particularly  clear  in 
i.  24.  9 :  '  Thy  remedies,  O  king,  are  a  hundred, 
a  thousand.  Let  thy  good  will  be  broad  and  deep. 
Drive  into  the  distance  Nirrti.  Free  us  from  the 
sin  committed '  (cf.  also  vi.  74  and  x.  97).  It  may 
be  taken  as  certain  that  the  efforts  to  escape  the 
fetters  of  Varuna  and  the  constantly  recurring 
prayer  for  forgiveness  of  sin  are  not  all  inspired  by 
pure  feelings  of  contrition  and  remorse,  but  are  in 
part  at  least  due  to  the  desire  to  escape  the  pay- 
ment of  the  wages  of  sin.  The  specific  thing  in 
connexion  with  Varuna's  relation  to  disease  is  the 
fact  that  he,  as  the  lord  of  the  waters,  sends  dropsy 
in  punishment  for  sin,  and  especially  falsehood. 
This  idea,  unmistakable  in  other  texts,  is  probable 
for  the  Rigveda  (cf.  i.  24.  8,  where  Varuna  is  the 
'  speaker  away  of  the  heart-piercing '  demon  ;  and 
HUlebrandt,  Varuna  una*  Mitra,  1877,  p.  63  ff.), 
though  it  is  not  so  clear  as  to  be  beyond  the  possi- 
bility of  denial  (cf.  Bergaigne,  Religion  vidique, 
1878-83,  iii.  155). 

The  healing  power  of  the  waters  is  also  mentioned 
quite  frequently.  Rigv.  i.  23.  16-24  is  devoted  to 
their  praise  ;  they  are  said  to  contain  immortality 
and  all  remedies,  and  are  besought  to  bestow  their 
remedies  and  carry  away  sin  (cf.  also  x.  9.  5-7,  and 
note  the  frequency  with  which  the  waters  appear 
in  prayers  for  long  life).  In  Rigv.  vi.  50.  7  they 
are  healing,  and  in  x.  137.  6  they  are  healing  and 
dispellers  of  disease. 

It  would,  however,  be  a  mistake  to  infer  from  such  passages 
that  the  concept  of  the  cause  of  disease  is  radically  different  in 
the  Rigveda  from  what  it  is  in  the  Atharva.  The  association 
with  the  Raksas  is  clear  in  iii.  15.  1,  vii.  1.  7,  8.  6,  38.  7,  viii. 
35. 16-18,  ix.  85. 1,  x.  97.  6, 98. 12, 162.  1 ;  furthermore,  in  x.  85.  31 
— a  stanza  to  be  recited  when  the  bridal  party  passes  a  cemetery 
— is  to  be  recognized  the  ascription  of  disease  to  the  influence  of 
the  spirits  of  the  dead.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  sun-gods 
(i.  35.  9,  191.  8-9,  x.  37.  3,  100.  8)  and  Agni  (i.  12.  7, 189.  3)  and 
Byhaspati  (i.  18.  2,  x.  98.  3)  are  dispellers  of  disease — they  being 
the  great  demon-slayers.  The  prayer  for  food  that  causes  no 
disease  (anamivd  isah,  iii.  22.  4,  62. 14,  x.  17.  8)  may  also  be  men- 
tioned here  as  based  on  the  idea  of  the  disease-demon  entering 
a  man  with  his  food.  The  goddess  Apva,  a  drastic  embodiment 
of  '  defecation  from  fear '  invoked  in  x.  103. 12,  may  be  classed  as 
a  disease-demon  (cf.  Atharv.  iii.  2.  5,  ix.  8.  9). 

Medical  charms  are,  of  course,  likely  to  call  in 
the  assistance  of  any  and  every  god  ;  but,  apart 
from  these,  the  explicit  mention  of  healing  in  con- 
nexion with  other  deities  than  those  mentioned 
is  very  sporadic,  though  doubtless  it  is  conceived 
as  included  in  a  general  fashion  in  their  powers 
of  giving  long  life  and  prosperity  and  of  destroy- 
ing demons.  The  Adityas  drive  away  disease 
(viii.  18.  10) ;  Indra  cures  Apala  of  skin  disease 
and  her  father  of  baldness  (viii.  80  ;  for  the  treat- 
ment of  this  legend  in  the  Brahmanas,  cf.  Oertel, 
J  A  OS  xviii.  26  ff.)  ;  the  Maruts,  as  children  of 
Rudra,  have  pure,  salutary,  and  beneficent  remedies 
(ii.  33.  13),  which  they  are  asked  to  bring  from 
various  places  (viii.  20.  23  ff.,  cf.  also  v.  53.  14)  ; 
Vata  gives  remedies  (i.  89.  4,  x.  186.  1);  for 
Soma,  cf.  i.  91.  12,  iii.  62.  14,  viii.  72.  17,  79.  2, 
ix.  97.  43,  x.  25.  11 ;  for  Soma-Rudra,  vi.  74 ;  for 
Vastospati,  vii.  54.  1,  55.  1  ;  for  the  Dawns,  x. 
35.  6 ;'  for  the  All-Gods,  x.  63.  12 ;  for  Yama,  x. 
14.  11  ;  and  the  more  general  prayers  for  health 
among  other  blessings,  iii.  16.  3,  59.  3,  x.  18.  7,  37.  7. 

vOL.  IV. — 4Q 


The  number  of  medical  charms  in  the  Rigveda 
is  extremely  limited.  They  are,  however,  of  the 
same  general  type  as  the  Atharvan  charms,  and 
most  of  them  recur  also  in  the  latter  collection. 

Rigv.  i.  60.  11-13  is  a  prayer  to  Surya  to  destroy  heart-disease 
and  dropsy,  upon  which  Atharv.  i.  22  has  drawn.  Rigv.  x.  137 
=Atharv.  iv.  13  is  a  rather  colourless  panacea-hymn  :  the  gods 
are  to  make  alive  again  the  man  that  has  sinned  ;  one  wind 
shall  blow  him  a  remedy,  another  shall  blow  away  his  disease  ; 
the  practitioner  has  come  to  the  patient  with  weal  and 
health,  he  has  brought  a  remedy  kindly  and  powerful,  and  is 
driving  away  the  yaksma ;  the  gods,  the  Maruts,  and  all 
creatures  shall  protect  the  sick  man,  that  he  may  be  free 
from  disease  ;  the  all-healing,  disease-dispersing  waters  shall 
make  for  him  a  remedy  ;  the  performer  touches  him  with  his 
two  hands,  which  confer  immunity  from  disease.  Rigv.  x.  161 
=  Atharv.  iii.  11  is  a  charm  against  apiatayaksma,  rajayaksma. 
and  grdhi.  The  performer  declares  his  power  to  bring  back 
the  patient  even  though  he  has  gone  into  the  presence  ot 
Death  and  the  lap  of  Nirrti.  Comparable  with  this  is  the 
group  of  hymns  Rigv.  x.  67-60,  the  purpose  of  which  is  to 
recall  the  mind  wherever  it  may  have  gone.  The  closing  verses 
are :  '  Here  the  mother,  here  the  father,  here  life  has  come 
This  is  thy  refuge,  come  hither,  O  Subandhu,  enter  in.  As  men 
bind  a  yoke  with  a  rope  that  it  may  hold  indeed ;  so  do  1 
hold  for  thee  thy  mind,  that  thou  mayest  live,  mayest  not  die, 
mayest  not  be  harmed.  As  the  great  mother  (Earth)  here 
Bupports  these  trees ;  so  do  I  hold,  etc.  From  Yama,  son  of 
Vivasvant,  have  I  brought  back  the  mind  of  Subandhu,  that 
thou  mayest  live,  etc.  Down  blows  the  wind,  down  burns  the 
fire,  down  milks  the  cow,  down  shall  go  thy  disease.  This 
hand  of  mine  is  rich  in  blessings,  this  hand  richer  still,  this 
hand  all-healing,  this  rubs  auspiciously.'  Subandhu  ('good 
friend ')  need  not  have  been  originally  a  proper  name,  but  it  was 
felt  to  be  so  at  least  as  early  as  the  time  of  the  Brahmanas, 
which  spin  legends  about  his  return  to  life. 

Rigv.  x.  163= Atharv.  ii.  33  is  a  charmof  another  type  :  '  From 
thine  eyes,  thy  nostrils,  thine  ears  and  chin,  from  thy  brain, 
from  thy  tongue,  I  tear  out  the  disease  of  thy  head.'  The  prac- 
titioner then  proceeds  to  enumerate  other  parts  of  the  body, 
concluding,  to  guard  against  any  possible  omission,  with  the 
statement  that  he  tears  the  disease  from  the  whole  being  of 
the  patient. 

Rigv.  vii.  50  is  a  charm  against  poison — chiefly  that  of  snakes 
— abounding  in  obscure  words.  Mitra-Varuna  are  to  give 
protection,  Agni  is  to  burn  it  away,  the  All-Gods  are  to 
drive  it  away,  and  the  rivers  are  to  bestow  remedies  for  it. 
Rigv.  i.  191  is  a  charm  for  the  same  purpose,  but  more  aggress- 
ive in  its  efforts  to  secure  its  ends.  The  beings  at  which 
it  is  directed  are  styled  the  '  unseen,'  and  seem  to  be  chiefly 
scorpions  and  small  venomous  vermin  ;  but  doubtless  the 
imaginary  worms  (cf.  above)  were  also  in  mind.  Tbey  are 
adjured  to  perish,  they  have  been  made  visible  to  all,  hence 
harmless.  Their  lineage  (curiously  exalted ;  Dyaus  is  their 
father,  the  Earth  their  mother,  Soma  their  brother,  and 
Aditi  their  sister)  is  known,  hence  they  must  he  quiet.  The 
sun  grinds  and  burns  them.  The  conjurer  has  put  their  poison 
on  the  sun,  their  poiBon-bag  on  the  house  of  the  keeper  of 
spirituous  liquor.  The  sun  will  not  die,  neither  will  their 
victims.  Little  birds  and  sparks  of  fire  drink  their  poison 
without  harm  :  twenty-one  peahens  and  seven  unmarried 
sisters  handle  it  as  if  it  were  water ;  (a  fortiori)  the  conjurer 
(and  his  clients),  who  has  grasped  the  names  of  all  ninety-nine 
plants  that  destroy  poison,  shall  not  be  harmed.  Finally, 
the  conjurer,  likening  himself  to  the  mongoose,  which  on 
coming  down  from  the  mountains  proclaimed  the  powerlessness 
of  the  scorpion's  poison,  splits  the  creature  with  a  rock, 
letting  its  poison  flow  to  distant  lands. 

The  couplet  Rigv.  viii.  48.  4-6  seems  to  be  a  prayer  to  guard 
against  any  nauseating  or  diarrhoetic  effects  of  drinking  soma. 
Finally,  in  Rigv.  10.  97  we  have  the  osadhistuti,  or  praise  of  the 
curative  power  of  plants. 

Mention  of  particular  diseases  is  extremely 
rare  in  the  Rigveda  :  yaksma  (x.  85.  31,  97.  11-13, 
137.  4,  163.  1-6),  with  its  compounds,  ajndta'-, 
raja°-  (x.  161.  1);  [a-yaksma  (ix.  49.  1)  is  merely 
disease  in  general] ;  vandana  (?)  (vii.  50.  2)  ; 
jaundice  and  heart-disease  (i.  50.  11-12)  ;  heart- 
disease  (i.  24.  8)  ;  grahi  (x.  161.  1) ;  allusion  to 
prstyamaya  is  made  incidentally  in  a  comparison 
(i.  105.  18).  Extremely  obscure  are  the  epithets 
aUpada  and  aHmida,  applied  to  the  waters  and 
streams  in  vii.  50.  4  ;  they  seem  to  mean  '  not 
causing  the  diseases  iipar  and  Hmi,'  of  which  no 
other  mention  is  made.  Sipivista,  however,  occurs 
as  the  designation  of  an  animal  rendered  unfit 
for  sacrifice  by  skin  disease  (cf.  J.  Schwab,  Das 
altind.  Thieropfer,  1886,  p.  xviii),  and  as  an  epithet 
of  Visnu  (Kausitaki  Brah.  iv.  2  ;  &ankhayana  SS. 
xv.  14.  4 ;  and  A.  Weber,  Tiber  die  Kbnigsweihe, 
den  Eajasuya,  Berlin,  1893,  p.  125).  Various 
bodily  defects  are  more  frequently  mentioned ; 
defects  of  sight  seem  especially  feared  (cf.  andha, 


770 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Vedic) 


anaksa,  kana,  mithudri) ;  defects  of  hearing  (ba- 
dhira,  abadhira) ;  lameness  (asreman,  irona) ;  loss 
of  virility  (vadhri). 

It  is  neither  possible  nor  desirable  to  treat  at  this 
length  the  whole  of  Vedic  literature  ;  but,  as  the 
omissions  are  no  less  important  than  the  state- 
ments, it  seems  best  to  limit  the  treatment  to 
certain  texts  as  representative  of  the  Yajurveda, 
the  Brahmanas,  and  Upanisads.  For  the  Yajur 
texts  the  Vajasaneyi  Samhita  has  been  chosen. 

The  whole  system  of  sacrifice  is  an  attempt  to 
induce  the  gods  to  bestow  prosperity,  in  which 
health  is  an  important  element.  It  is,  however,  a 
noteworthy  fact  that  health  is  by  no  means  so 
conspicuous  an  object  of  prayer  as  is  wealth. 
Even  when  it  is  sought  (cf .  xxv.  14-23  =  Rigv.  i.  89), 
it  is  in  general  terms,  thus  resembling  the  charms 
for  long  life  (ayusyani)  rather  than  the  medical 
{bhaisajyani)  charms. 

For  such  incidental  prayers  cempare,  in  addition  to  prayers 
for  strength,  lustre,  vigour,  life  of  a  hundred  years,  that  occur 
passim,  such  formula  as  :  iii.  17,  '  O  Agni,  thou  art  protector 
of  bodies,  protect  my  body.  O  Agni,  thou  art  giver  of  life, 
give  me  life.  O  Agni,  thou  art  giver  of  splendour,  give  me 
splendour.  O  Agni,  what  is  wanting  in  my  body,  that  do 
thou  fill  out  for  me ' ;  ix.  21,  '  By  sacrifice  may  my  life  succeed, 
my  vital  breath,  my  sight,  my  hearing,  my  back '  (fuller  lists  in 
xviii.  29,  xxii.  33)  ;  xiv.  17,  '  Protect  my  life,  my  prdv-a,  my 
apana,  my  vydna,  my  sight,  my  hearing  :  enrich  my  speech, 
quicken  my  mind,  protect  my  being.' 

For  other  formula  of  the  same  general  type,  cf.  vii.  27,  xv. 
7,  xvii.  15,  xviii.  2,  6,  xxii.  23,  xxiii.  18,  xxxvi.  1,  xxxix.  1,  3. 
Compare  also  such  prayers  for  the  senses  as  i.  20,  '  Thee  for 
sight  (I  take)';  and  ii.  16,  'Thou  art  protector  of  sight,  O 
Agni,  protect  my  sight.'  Numerous  parallels  from  other  texts 
may  be  found  under  the  words  chaksus  and  srotra  in  the  Vedic 
Concordance.  More  interesting  are  the  verses  xx.  6-9,  con- 
taining benedictions  on  various  parts  of  the  body.  In  xx.  26 
the  blessed  world  is  described  as  one  (  where  weakness  is  not 
found,'  and  in  xii.  105  the  speaker  quits  '  weakness,  lack  of 
strength,  and  sickness.' 

The  incidental  statements  of  the  relation  of  the 
gods  to  disease  are  on  the  plane  of  the  Rigveda,  and 
are  frequently  repetitions  of  that  text.  Varuna 
inxxviii.  35  is  styled  a  healing  seer  (cf.  viii.  23  = 
Rigv.  i.  24.  8,  and  xviii.  49,  xxi.  2  =  Rigv.  i.  24.  11). 
For  the  healing  power  of  the  waters,  cf.  iv.  12, 
ix.  6,  xviii.  35,  xxxvi.  12  ;  for  Brhaspati,  iii.  29  = 
Rigv.  i.  18,  2;  for  Savitar,  xxxiv.  25  =  Rigv.  i. 
35.  9  ;  for  Agni,  ii.  20,  xv.  37,  xvii.  15  ;  for  Asvins, 
xxvii.  9,  xxviii.  7,  40,  xxxiv.  47.  Tvastar,  the 
divine  artifex,  is  more  directly  connected  with  the 
repair  of  the  body  than  in  the  Rigveda  (cf.  ii.  24= 
viii.  14= Atharv.  vi.  53.  3  and  Vaj.  Sam.  xxxviii.  9). 
Of  more  interest  are  the  collections  of  mantras 
for  ceremonies  directly  connected  with  disease. 
At  the  sakamedha,  the  third  parvan  of  the 
chaturmasya-s&CTifice,  occurs  a  pitryajna  after 
which  are  employed  four  verses  (iii.  53-56)  of 
one  of  the  Subandhu-hymns  (Rigv.  x.  57.  3-6),  to 
keep  the  spirits  of  those  engaged  in  the  sacrifice 
from  following  the  pitrs  on  their  return  to  the 
world  of  Yama.  Another  portion  of  the  same 
sacrifice  is  the  Traiyambakahoma  to  Rudra.  The 
formulae  are  found  in  iii.  57-61  ;  their  purpose  is 
to  propitiate  the  god,  and  so  induce  him  to  pass 
to  other  peoples  without  harming  the  sacrificers. 
Of  similar  nature  is  the  Satarudriyahoma  at  the 
agnichayana.  The  sixteenth  book  of  the  Vaj.  Sam. 
is  composed  of  its  mantras.  The  concept  of 
Rudra  is  essentially  the  same  as  that  of  the 
Rigveda,  though  worked  out  in  fuller  detail. 

The  Sautramanl  is  a  sacrifice  originally  in- 
tended to  expiate  the  sin  of  excessive  soma- 
drinking,  which  leads  to  a  drunken  discharge  of 
the  sacred  liquid.  The  heavenly  prototype  of 
this  ceremony  is  the  cure  which  the  Asvins  and 
Sarasvati  wrought  upon  Indra  when  he  had  been 
beguiled  into  sMm-drunkenness  by  the  demon 
Namuci.  For  the  details  of  this  story,  cf.  Bloom- 
field,  JAOS  xv.  143-163.  The  formulae  em- 
ployed constitute  books  xix.-xxi.  of  Vaj.  Sam. 
Of  particular    interest  are :   xix.    10,  containing 


the  name  of  the  disease-demon  ;  xix.  80-95,  the 
detailed  account  of  Indra's  cure  ;  xix.  12,  16, 
xx.  3,  56  ff.,  75,  80,  xxi.  13,  18,  29,  references  to 
the  healing  power  of  his  physicians  and  their 
remedies ;  xix.  55,  62  =  Rigv.  x.  15.  4,  6,  prayers 
to  the  pitrs  for  health.  (For  the  ritual,  cf.  A. 
Weber,  Uber  die  Kbnigsweihe,  den  Bajasuya,  pp. 
92-106,  and  A.  Hillebrandt,  Bituallitteratur, 
1897,  p.  159.) 

Anatomically  interesting  are  the  lists  of  various 
parts  of  the  body  :  xix.  81-93,  xx.  5-9,  xxv.  1-9 
(parts  of  the  horse),  xxxi.  10-13,  xxxix.  8-10, 
and  the  statements  relative  to  conception  and 
birth  (xix.  76).  The  theory  of  the  vital  breaths 
now  begins  to  become  prominent ;  but  the  whole 
of  this  question  must  be  dismissed  with  a  refer- 
ence to  A.  H.  Ewing,  'The  Hindu  Conception 
of  the  Functions  of  Breath,'  JAOS  xxii.  249-308. 

Of  names  of  disease  few  occur  :  yaksma  is 
disease  in  general  (cf.  the  coupling  of  ayaksma 
anamiva,  i.  1,  iv.  12,  xviii.  6,  and  the  mention 
of  the  hundred  yaksmas,  xii.  97).  This  disease 
is  also  mentioned  in  the  osadhlstuti  (xii.  75  ff.  = 
Rigv.  x.  97).  Its  last  verse  (xii.  97)  is,  however 
peculiar  to  the  version  of  Vaj.  Sam.,  and  mentions 
balasa,  upacit  (  =  Atharv.  apachit),  arias  (haemor 
rhoids),  and  pakaru  (of  uncertain  meaning).  ApvS, 
occurs  in  xvii.  44  =  Rigv.  x.  103.  12,  while  VisuchikdL 
(xix.  10)  is  an  equally  vivid  name  ('  she  that  makes 
go  in  all  directions')  for  the  demon  to  whom  are 
ascribed  the  nauseating  and  diarrhcetic  effects  of 
debauch.  Heart-disease  is  mentioned  in  viii.  23  = 
Rigv.  i.  24.  8  ;  diseases  of  the  eye,  arman,  in  xx* 
11;  skin-disease  in  xxx.  20;  leprosy  in  xxx.  17, 
21  ;  various  deformities  in  xxx.  10,  21,  22. 

Physicians  are  recognized  as  constituting  a  pro- 
fession (xxx.  10).  An  amulet  is  used  by  the 
Divine  physicians  (xix.  80)  for  the  cure  of  Indra. 
Finally,  iv.  3  is  a  formula  addressed  to  ointment 
from  Mt.  Trikakud :  '  Thou  art  the  eye  of  Vrtra 
(for  mythology,  cf .  Bloomfield,  '  The  Myth  of  the 
Heavenly  Eye-ball,'  Am.  Jour.  Phil.  xvii.  399-408), 
thou  art  the  giver  of  sight,  give  me  sight.' 

In  the  Aitareya  Brahmana  there  is  very  little 
material  bearing  on  the  subject.  Incidental  allu- 
sions to  various  parts  of  the  body  occur,  among 
which  may  be  noted  the  distinction  between  the 
senses  of  taste,  sight,  and  smell,  and  their  organs 
(v.  22).  The  processes  of  procreation  and  birth 
are  also  frequently  alluded  to  in  the  effort  to 
produce  a  mystical  body  for  the  sacrificer.  There 
is  likewise  a  great  deal  of  talk  about  the  'vital 
breaths ' — the  way  in  which  they  may  be  estab- 
lished in  the  sacrificer,  or  may  be  cut  short. 
The  same  is  true  of  the  various  senses  and  the 
power  of  virility  ;  and  there  is  the  constantly 
recurring  effort  to  secure  vigour,  splendour,  sharp- 
ness of  sense,  and  the  full  term  of  life. 

All  of  this  is  too  general  to  be  of  interest  in  the 
present  connexion.  More  concrete  are  i.  18, 
where  the  Asvins  are  said  to  be  the  physicians  of 
the  gods  ;  v.  34,  where  the  Brahman  priest  is  the 
physician  of  the  sacrifice.  Freedom  from  disease 
is  expressly  sought  in  viii.  10  and  11 ;  the  healing 
power  of  herbs  is  recognized  in  general  in  iii.  40, 
and  in  particular  that  of  collyrium  for  the  eye 
in  i.  3.  That  disease  may  be  produced  by  a  curse 
is  seen  in  v.  1  (deformity)  and  vi.  33  (leprosy). 
Madness  is  alluded  to  in  vi.  33,  and  in  v.  29  there 
is  mention  of  a  girl  possessed  by  a  gandharya. 
Varuna's  fetters,  as  productive  of  dropsy  in  punish- 
ment '  for  a  broken  vow,  figure  in  the  story  of 
Sunahsepa  (vii.  15  and  16).  The  origin  of  certain 
deformities  is  explained  mythically  in  ii.  8.  The 
closest  approach  to  a  cure  for  disease  is  found 
in  iii.  19,  where  is  imparted  the  knowledge  that 
will  enable  one  to  preserve  his  sight  to  old  age. 
In  i.  25  is  explained  the  way  in  which  the  Hotar 


DISEASE  AND  MEDICINE  (Vedic) 


771 


may  cause  the  sacrificer  to  suffer  from  rajayaksma, 
which  here  seems  to  mean  some  (scrofulous)  disease 
of  the  neck. 

An  examination  of  the  Brhadaranyaka  and 
Chhdndogya  Upanisads  shows  that  the  chief  in- 
terest of  these  texts  in  this  connexion  lies  in  their 
anatomical  statements.  Besides  more  isolated  in- 
stances that  occur  passim  may  be  noted  the  list 
of  the  parts  of  the  horse  (Brh.  i.  1.  1) ;  of  the 
human  body  (ii.  4.  11) ;  and  the  elaborate  com- 
parison of  man  with  a  tree  (iii.  9.  28).  There 
are  also  statements  about  the  heart  and  its  veins 
(Brh.  ii.  1.  19,  iv.  2.  3,  3.  20 ;  Chhand.  viii.  6.  1 
and  6)  ;  the  structure  of  the  eye  (Brh.  ii.  2.  3) ; 
the  disposition  of  food  in  the  body  (Chhand.  vi.  5); 
the  process  of  sleep  and  dreams  (Brh.  ii.  1.  16 ff., 
iv.  3.  7  ff. ;  Chhand.  iv.  3.  3) ;  and  the  process 
of  death  (Brh.  iii.  2.  11  ff.).  All  these  state- 
ments are,  however,  connected  with  the  theory 
of  the  'vital  breaths,'  and  appear  to  be  entirely 
speculative. 

With  regard  to  the  origin  of  disease  may  be 
noted  the  power  of  a  curse  to  produce  bodily 
ailments  implied  in  the  threat,  'thy  head  shall 
burst'  (Brh.  iii.  7.  1,  9.  26;  Chhand.  i.  8.  8);  the 
statement  (Brh.  iv.  3.  15)  that  the  evil  caused 
by  waking  a  man  while  his  spirit  is  abroad  in 
dreams  is  hard  to  cure ;  and  the  mention  (Brh. 
iii.  3.  1,  7.  1)  of  women  possessed  by  gandharvas. 
Sickness  is  incidentally  mentioned  (Brh.  iv.  3.  36, 
v.  11.  1 ;  Chhand.  iv.  10.  3,  vi.  15.  1,  vii.  26.  2, 
viii.  4.  2,  6.  4).  The  itch  (paman)  is  the  only 
disease  specifically  mentioned  ;  and  Raikva's 
scratching  it  off  under  a  cart  (Chhand.  iv.  1.  8)  is 
probably  a  method  of  cure  to  be  associated  with 
the  cases  of  transference  cited  above. 

The  full  term  of  life  is  often  promised  as  a 
reward  for  certain  knowledge  (Brh.  i.  2.  7,  ii.  1. 
11  f.  ;  Chhand.  ii.  llff,  iv.  llff.);  an  ayusya- 
ceremony  is  also  mentioned  (Brh.  vi.  4.  25).  In 
Chhand.  iii.  16  are  contained  directions  for  the 
cure  of  any  disease,  by  following  which  one  may 
live  116  years. 

A  number  of  factors  combine  to  prevent  diseases 
and  their  treatment  from  figuring  to  a  great 
extent  in  the  Srauta  ritual.  All  connected  with 
the  sacrifice  must  be  in  good  health :  an  animal 
victim  must  be  free  from  blemishes,  among  which 
certain  diseases  (cf.  J.  Schwab,  Das  altindische 
Thieropfer,  p.  xviii)  are  included.  If,  after  the 
selection  of  the  horse  for  the  Asvamedha  (q.v.), 
diseases  develop  in  it  during  the  year  that  must 
elapse  before  its  sacrifice,  an  expiatory  sacrifice  is 
required,  which  varies  (cf.  A.  Hillebrandt,  Ritual- 
litteratur,  p.  150)  according  to  the  disease.  Bodily 
ailments  are  also  sufficient  to  prevent  a  priest  from 
being  chosen  to  officiate  at  a  sacrifice  (cf.  A. 
Weber,  Indische  Studien,  1868,  x.  145  ff. ) ;  and  it  is 
expressly  stated  (Asvaldyana  Grhya  Sutra  i.  23. 
20)  that  the  priest  must  refuse  to  officiate  for  a 
yajamana  who  is  suffering  from  a  disease.  Under 
these  circumstances  it  is  but  natural  that  the 
possibility  of  sickness  should  receive  scant  con- 
sideration except  in  so  far  as  it  is  subsumed  under 
prayers  for  long  life  and  the  exorcism  of  demons. 
This  tendency  must  have  been  helped  by  the 
popular  origin  of  the  medical  charms.  In  spite 
of  this  origin,  they  passed,  as  did  everything,  under 
the  influence  of  the  priesthood  ;  but  in  the  main 
they  were  more  adapted  to  incorporation  in  the 
simpler  form  of  the  Grhya  rites,  which  presented 
the  further  advantage  of  not  bringing  the  diseased 
(i.e.  demon-possessed)  person  into  a  contact  with 
the  priests  that  might  prove  dangerous  for  them. 
Exceptional  situations,  of  course,  occur :  soma- 
drunkenness  is  a  sacrificial  sin,  and  must  be  healed 
by  a  sacrifice ;  or,  as  at  the  pindapitryajna,  the 
lives  of  the  participants  may  be  exposed  to  special 


dangers  against  which  precautions  must  be  taken. 
But  an  examination  of  some  of  the  Srauta  ritea 
will  show  (cf.  what  was  said  of  the  mantras  of  the 
Vdjasaneyi  Samhita  above)  that  these  are  primarily 
concerned  with  the  securing  of  wealth,  progeny, 
and  triumph  over  enemies,  much  more  than  with 
health,  except  as  it  is  implied  in  prayers  for  pro- 
tection and  long  life  couched  in  the  most  general 
terms.  Secondarily,  however,  the  sacrifice  may 
be  adapted  to  the  securing  of  various  desires. 
Among  these  the  cure  of  disease  figures  to  a 
greater  extent,  though  still  overshadowed  by  other 
wishes. 

In  the  ritual  of  the  New  and  Full  Moon  sacrifice 
(cf.  A.  Hillebrandt,  Das  altind.  Neu-  und  Voll- 
mondsopfer,  Jena,  1880)  there  is  no  allusion  to  the 
subject.  In  the  animal  sacrifice  it  may  be  noted 
that  among  the  wishes  that  determine  the  choice 
of  the  tree  for  the  yupa  there  is  none  closer  to  our 
purpose  (cf.  Schwab,  op.  cit.  p.  2)  than  viryakdma 
and  chaksuskdma  (cf .  also  the  wishes  that  determine 
the  length  of  the  post  in  Satapatha  Brahmana,  xi. 
4.  7.  1,  and  Taittirlya  Samhita  vi.  3.  3.  5-6).  At 
the  mdrjana  (purification)  is  employed  (cf.  p.  122)  a 
verse  which  has  its  parallel  in  a  remedial  charm 
(Atharv.  vi.  96.  2).  The  connexion  between  the 
two  uses  is  due  to  the  connexion  between  sin  and 
disease.  There  is  a  colourless  prayer  for  long  life 
at  the  offering  of  prsaddjya  to  Vanaspati  (cf.  p. 
147),  and  the  prayer  after  the  last  upaydja  (p.  155) 
to  the  waters  and  plants  is  for  spirit  in  one's  heart, 
a  soft  skin,  a  son,  and  a  grandson.  The  prayer  to 
Varuna  at  the  hiding  of  the  spit  (p.  162)  is  found 
also  in  a  cure  for  dropsy  (Atharv.  vii.  93.  2),  and 
the  place  required  is  somewhat  similar  in  both 
rituals.  The  final  worship  of  the  yupa  (p.  164) 
also  contains  a  prayer  for  long  life.  This  sacrifice, 
however,  possesses  greater  interest  for  anatomy  on 
account  of  the  details  incidental  to  the  cutting  up 
of  the  animal  (cf.  p.  126  ff). 

At  the  pindapitryajna  prayers  for  long  life  also 
occur  (cf.  W.  Caland,  Altindischer  Ahnencult, 
Leyden,  1893,  pp.  7  and  10).  More  interesting  are 
the  attempts  to  call  back  the  spirit  after  its  com- 
munion with  the  manes  (cf.  above,  and  Caland, 
pp.  llf.,  178  ff.,  243,  and  the  statements  that  the 
leavings  of  this  offering  have  medicinal  effect, 
p.  191). 

Of  soma-sacrifices,  the  most  interesting,  the 
Sdutrdmani,  has  been  treated  above.  The  Raja- 
suya  contains,  among  its  preparatory  ceremonies^ 
a  number  that  served  originally  for  the  cure  of 
diseases,  which  A.  Weber  ( fiber  die  Konigsweihe, 
den  Rajasuya,  p.  5)  rightly  takes  as  an  indication 
of  the  fact  that  this  sacrifice  has  been  built  up 
on  the  basis  of  simpler  popular  practices.  Thus 
Maitrayani  Samhita  iv.  3.  1  has  a  ceremony  against 
ksetriya,  including  a  sacrifice  upon  an  ant-hill. 
Katyayana  SS  xv.  1.  23  states  that  the  pancha- 
vdtiya  is  a  cure  for  disease,  and  xv.  3.  39  that 
the  charu  for  Soma-Rudra  is  a  cure  for  leprosy. 
Prayers  for  long  life  are  found  (Kat.  SS  xv.  5. 
22  ;  cf.  Sat.  Brdh.  v.  4.  1.  1),  also  at  anointing  of 
kings  (Weber,  p.  49),  and  while  touching  a  gold  piece 
worth  100  raktikd  {Kat.  SS  xv.  6.  32).  The  recita- 
tion of  the  Sunahsepa-Iegend  also  forms  part  of 
this  ceremony  (cf.  Weber,  p.  49  ff),  for  the  purpose 
of  releasing  the  king  from  the  fetters  of  Varuna. 
The  beating  of  the  king  may  originally  have  been 
exorcistic,  as  he  is  assured  that  the  beating  leads 
him  beyond  death.  At  the  purusamedha  also  a 
portion  of  the  ceremony  is  (Sdhkhdyana  &S  xvi. 
13.  3)  or  may  be  ( Vaitdna  SS  xxxviii.  1)  devoted  to 
the  cure  of  the  yajamana. 

By  certain  modifications  a  Srauta  sacrifice  may 
be  employed  for  the  attainment  of  a  special 
wish.  The  parallelism  of  these  kdmyestayah  with 
Atharvan  charms  has  been  pointed  out  by  Caland 


772 


DISGUST 


(Altindisches  Zauberritual,  Amsterdam,  1900,  p. 
viii).  An  idea  of  the  range  of  the  wishes  sought 
may  be  obtained  from  such  lists  as  Kausitaki 
Brahmana  iv.  containing  twelve  modifications  of 
the  New  and  Full  Moon  Sacrifice,  of  which  none  is 
intended  for  the  cure  of  disease  ;  or  the  much 
longer  list  of  Taittiriya  Samhita  ii.  1.  1.  1-ii.  4.  14. 
5.  In  this  are  included  sacrifices  for  one  '  long  ill ' 
(jyogamayavin)  that  will  make  him  live  '  even  if 
his  spirit  is  gone '  (ii.  1.1.3;  2.  7  ;  9.  3  [release  from 
Varuna's  fetter];  ii.  4.  2;  10.  4 ;  3.  11.  1,  cf.  also 
iii.  4.  9.  3);  for  one  'seized  by  Varuna'  or  for 
release  from  Varuna's  fetter  (ii.  1.  2.  1 ;  2.  5.  1 ; 
3.  12.  1 ;  13.  1) ;  for  one  who  wishes  to  live  his 
full  term  of  life  (ii.  2.  3.  2)  ;  for  one  who  fears 
death  (ii.  3.  2.  1) ;  or  in  case  cattle  or  men  are 
dying  (ii.  2.  2.  3) ;  for  one  wishing  virility  (ii.  3. 
7.  2)  or  power  of  his  senses  (ii.  1.  6.  2;  2.  5.  4; 
3.  7.  2) ;  for  one  wishing  sight  (ii.  2.  4.  3 ;  9.  3 ; 
3.  8.  1  [even  though  blind  he  sees]) ;  for  one  in  fear 
of  impotence  (ii.  3.  3.  4) ;  for  one  in  fear  of  skin- 
disease  (ii.  1.  4.  3 ;  2.  10.  2) ;  for  one  who  vomits 
soma  (ii.  3.  2.  6) ;  for  one  whose  '  mind  is  slain, 
who  is  an  evil  to  himself  (ii.  2.  8.  3  [for  insanity, 
cf.  also  iii.  4.  8.  4]) ;  for  one  who  has  been  suffer- 
ing long  from  an  unknown  disease  [cf.  ajnata- 
yaksma  above]  (ii.  1.  6.  5) ;  for  one  suffering  from 
papayaksma  (ii.  3.  5,  containing  the  mythical 
account  of  the  origin  of  papayaksma,  rajayaksma, 
and  jayenya  [cf.  ii.  5.  6.  4],  and  the  statement  that 
for  this  purpose  the  sacrifice  must  he  offered  at  the 
new  moon  in  order  that  the  sacrificer  may  fill  out 
with  it). 

In  the  Grhya-iites  the  phenomena  of  disease 
appear  more  frequently,  though  still  treated  in 
a  general  fashion  which  contrasts  unfavourably 
with  the  details  of  the  Atharva.  Sickness  is  a 
sufficient  excuse  for  sleep  at  sunrise  or  sunset 
{Asvalayana  GS  iii.  7.  1-2),  and  disqualifies  a 
yajamana  (ib.  i.  23.  20)  ;  bodily  pain  also  stops 
the  recitation  of  the  Veda  (Sahkhayana  GS  iv.  7. 
38).  At  the  upanayana,  Agni  is  invoked  as  the 
physician  and  maker  of  remedies  (BiranyakeHn 
GS  i.  2.  18,  cf.  Atharv.  v.  29.  1).  At  the  Sraddha 
also  prayers  for  long  life  are  employed  (cf.  Caland, 
pp.  26  and  43),  and,  according  to  HiranyakeHn 
ii.  12.  9,  the  sacrificer,  if  over  fifty,  offers  to  the 
pitrs  some  of  his  hair,  witn  the  request  that  they 
take  nothing  more.  The  reason  is  that  he  feels  he 
is  now  on  the  down  grade  and  desires  to  prolong 
his  life  as  much  as  possible  (other  interpretations  in 
Caland,  p.  177).  The  prevention  of  disease  and 
sorcery  may  also  be  attained,  according  to  Gobhila 
GS  iv..  6.  2,  by  the  daily  repetition  of  a  formula. 
The,  Agrayana  also,  especially  in  its  presentation 
in  Sahkhdyana  GS  iii.  8,  seems  to  be  a  rite  to 
render  the  new  food  fit  for  use  by  driving  out  any 
demons  that  may  be  lurking  in  it  (cf.  the  Agrayana 
Kamyesti  for  an  annadyakama  in  Kausitaki 
Brahmana  iv.  12).  As  a  panacea  Sahkhayana  GS 
v.  6.  1-2  prescribes  an  oblation  of  rice-grains  and 
gavedhuka-gT&ss  {Coix  barbata)  with  Bigv.  i.  114; 
similarly  Aival.  GS  iii.  6.  3-4  six  oblations  of 
boiled  rice  with  Bigv.  x.  161  (cf.,the  directions  for 
protection  of  the  embryo  in  Sankh.  GS  i.  21). 
Another  way  of  securing  health  [Ahjal.  GSiv.  1.  1) 
is  for  an  ahitagni  to  leave  the  village  when  he  is 
sick ;  the  sacred  fires  will  desire  to  return,  and 
will  consequently  grant  him  health.  This  is 
clearly  an  adaptation  of  a  popular  practice. 

Of  special  diseases  :  Paraskara  GS  iii.  6  contains 
an  interesting  cure  of  headache  by  rubbing,  while 
reciting  a  verse  parallel  with  Rigv.  x.  163.  1  = 
Atharv.  ii.  33.  1.  This  verse  is  also  employed  at 
Apastambiya  GS  iii.  9.  10  for  the  rubbing  of  a  sick 
woman  with  lotus  leaves  and  roots.  When  the  pain 
is  confined  to  one  side  of  the  head,  a  different  formula 
is  used,  the  wording  of  which  suggests  the  ascrip- 


tion of  the  pain  to  worms.  An  elaborate  cure  for 
epilepsy,  conceived  as  due  to  the  attack  of  a  dog- 
demon  upon  a  child,  is  described  (HiranyakeUn  GS 
ii.  2.  7.  1  ;  Ap.  GS  vii.  18.  1 ;  Paras.  GS  i.  16  24). 
With  it  may  be  compared  the  exorcism  of  the 
Vinayaka  in  Mdnava  GS  ii.  14,  giving  many  details 
of  the  symptoms  (including  dreams)  and  of  the  cure. 
An  attempt  to  secure  a  child  from  all  diseases 
[ksetriya  is  particularly  mentioned)  is  found  at  the 
medhajanana  (Bir.  GS  ii.  3.  10  ;  Ap.  GS  vi.  15.  4). 
For  snake  bites,  cf.  Khadira  GS  iv.  4.  1  =  Gobh.  GS 
iv.  9. 16  ;  the  ceremony  consists  merely  in  sprinkling 
with  water  while  muttering  a  verse.  Worms  are 
similarly  treated  in  Kh.  GSiv.  4.  3  =  Gobh.  GSiv. 
9.  19,  while  the  following  sutras  provide_for  their 
treatment  in  cows ;  cf.  also  Taittiriya  Aranyaka 
iv.  36.  1 ;  Ap.  SS  xv.  19.  5.  Other  cures  for  cattle 
are  Aival.  GS  iv.  8.  40  (the  cows  are  led  through 
the  smoke  of  a  fire  in  which  an  oblation  has  been 
made  ;  cf.  Hir.  GS  ii.  3.  8.  10,  and  Kh.  GS  iv.  3.  13). 

The  Bigvidhana  deals  frequently  in  cures  for 
diseases,  but  not  in  a  way  to  call  for  special  com- 
ment (cf.  i.  2.  5  ;  17.  8  ;  17.  9 ;  18.  4 ;  19.  1 ;  19. 
3 ;  20.  3  ;  23.  7  ;  24.  3  ;  25.  5  ;  27.  1 ;  28.  4  ;  29.  2 ; 
30.  4-31.  2;  ii.  1.  3;  20.  3;  25.  10,  11;  26.  3;  33. 
1-3  ;  34.  5  ;  iii.  3.  2  ;  7.  6  ;  11.  3 ;  18.  5  ;  iv.  1.  1-3  ; 
9.  4-7  ;  16.  1 ;  19.  3-5). 

The  Samavidhdna  Brahmana  has  among  its 
kdmydni  a  series  of  ceremonies  of  interest :  when 
the  children  of  one's  wife  die  young  (ii.  2.  1 ; 
the  ceremony  is  described  in  art.  CHAKMS  and 
AMULETS  [Vedic]) ;  when  one  is  seized  by  a  demon 
(ii.  2.  2) ;  for  any  disease  (ii.  2.  3) ;  in  case  of  pain 
in  a  limb  (ii.  3.  1,  2) ;  for  protection  from  snakes 
(ii.  3.  3). 

Literature. — In  addition  to  the  works  cited,  cf.  P.  Cordier, 
Etude  sur  la  midecine  hindoue,  Paris,  1894  (additional  passages 
from  Upanisads) ;  V.  Henry,  La  Magie  dans  I'lnde' antique, 
Paris,  1904,  pp.  178-205;  W.  Caland,  Altindisches  Zauber- 
ritual :  Probe  einer  Uebersetzung  der  wichtigstat  Theile  des 
EauHka  Sutra,  Amsterdam,  1900,  pp.  67-107  ;  M.  Bloomfield, 
'  Hymns  of  the  Atharva-veda,'  SBE,  vol.  xlii.  pp.  1-48  and  com- 
mentary thereto,  also  '  The  Atharva-veda,  '  in  GIAP  ii.  1,  B, 
Strassburg,  1899,  pp.  68-63  (with  copious  references  to  the  earlier 
works  on  the  subject).  Since  the  writing  of  this  article,  the 
kdm,ya  is$ayah  have  received  a  full  treatment  in  W.  Caland, 
Altindische  Zauberei :  DarsteUung  der  altind.  '  Wunschopfer,' 
Amsterdam,  1908.  G.   M.   BOLLING. 

DISGUST  is  primarily  a  feeling  in  regard  to 
the  physically  repulsive,  and  is  therefore  accom- 
panied by  actual  or  reproduced  organic  sensations. 
In  '  moral '  disgust,  these  sensations  are  suggested 
by  analogy.  The  emotion  of  repugnance,  which 
appears  in  disgust,  abhorrence,  detestation,  and 
horror,  is  a  particular  feeling-attitude,1  or  disposi- 
tion of  the  self,  towards  an  object  which  stands  in 
a  special  relation  to  the  nature  of  the  individual. 
The  object  which  arouses  the  emotion  is  not  the 
hostile  as  such,  or  the  merely  harmful ;  it  is  the 
unnatural  —  that  which  involves  a  perversion  of 
nature.  In  other  words,  it  is  at  variance  with  that 
primary  fitness  of  things  which  is  based  on  the 
essential  nature  of  things.  This  is  evident  in  the 
case  of  the  morally  repulsive.  The  abnormal  pro- 
minence of  the  animal  nature,  desires  which  lead 
to  misuse  of  functions,  desires  of  any  kind  raised  to 
an  unnatural  pitch,  all  arouse  the  emotion  of  re- 
pugnance. The  same  principle  is  at  work  when 
merely  physical  objects  are  concerned.  Objects  of 
this  kind  are  '  natural '  in  their  proper  place,  but 
they  may  be  misplaced.  This  is  the  rationale  of 
all  physical  repugnance.  The  characteristic  ex- 
pression of  this  emotion  in  conduct  is  the  avoidance 
of  all  relations  with  the  repugnant  object.  It  thus 
serves  to  protect,  not  so  much  the  life  of  the  indi- 
vidual, as  his  distinctive  nature. 

Literature. — C.  Darwin,  Expression  of  the  Emotions,  Lond. 
1872,  ch.  xi. ;  Th.  Ribot,  The  Psychology  of  the  Emotions,  Eng. 
tr.  do.  1897,  pt.  ii.  ch.  i.  D.  IRONS. 

1 D.  Irons,  The  Psychology  of  Ethics,  Edin.  and  Lond.  1903,  oh.  i. 


DISTRIBUTION 


773 


DISSENT.— See  Nonconformity. 

DISTRIBUTION  (of  income).1— By  the  eco- 
nomic theory  of  distribution  is  meant  the  doctrine 
of  the  manner  in  which  the  products  of  industry 
are  distributed  among  the  factors  producing  them, 
viz.  land,  capital,  labour,  and  enterprise. 

i.  The  manner  in  which  the  distribution  is 
made. — The  products  are  distributed  to  the  pro- 
ducing agents  by  one  of  them,  viz.  the  employer, 
who  takes  the  risk  of  the  market,  and,  according 
to  the  price  that  he  expects,  guarantees  their 
shares  to  the  other  agents  as  wages,  interest,  and 
rent.  He  gets  his  own  share,  viz.  profit,  as  residu- 
ary legatee  of  the  price.  It  is  thus  the  price  of 
commodities  that  pays  all  the  shares.  The  price 
of  a  thing  may  be  twopence  or  ten  pounds  ;  it  pays 
for  the  whole  past  history  of  the  thing  as  a  com- 
modity, from  the  landowner  and  the  producer  of 
the  raw  material  in  it,  the  capitalist  or  employer 
who  took  the  risk  of  having  it  made,  on  through 
the  course  of  its  making  and  carriage,  of  commer- 
cial dealings  with  it,  and  shopkeeping,  till  it  finally 
secures  its  twopence  or  ten  pounds,  and  out  of  that 
pays  them  all.  Thus  a  great  many  people  have  a 
cat  even  out  of  the  twopence,  and  it  may  seem 
that  some  of  them  might  be  dispensed  with  ;  the 
money-lenders,  perhaps,  and  the  traders  or  middle- 
men, who  have  been  called  robbers  and  parasites 
on  the  '  real '  producers.  But  the  only  share  that 
any  one  takes  is  what  he  gets  from  a  buyer  who 
has  need  of  his  services  ;  for  the  normal  price  of  a 
commodity  only  pays  those  means  of  producing  it 
which  are  necessary,  and  for  which  the  spur  of 
competition  can  find  no  better  alternative. 

The  system  is  comparatively  recent.  Formerly 
the  consumer  was  the  sole  or  the  chief  employer  of 
labour ;  there  were  few  entrepreneurs.  The  present 
is  called  the  *  capitalistic '  system,  not  so  much 
because  capital  has  grown  so  huge  and  efficient, 
as  because  it  is  directed  by  an  employing  class. 
Real  capital  consists  of  all  the  fixed  capital  used 
in  production  and  of  the  circulating  capital,  viz. 
raw  materials  and  the  real  wages  of  labour.  But 
nominal  capital — money  in  the  wide  sense — is  not 
merely  the  measure  of  real  wealth.  It  has  become 
the  pivot  on  which  the  whole  industrial  system  is 
swung,  and  the  means  by  which  capitalism  is  car- 
ried out ;  for  it  enables  the  employer  to  turn  the 
forces  of  nature,  labour,  and  real  capital  in  one 
direction  or  another. 

This  was  barely  appreciated  by  the  earlier  writers 
on  distribution  ;  it  was  hardly  time.  In  simplify- 
ing or  generalizing  their  problems,  as  every  science 
must,  they  supposed  primitive  conditions,  and  stated 
laws  true  enough  in  their  way,  but  apt  to  mislead 
when  applied  to  more  complex  conditions.  The 
notorious  example  was  the  '  wages-fund '  theory, 
which  assumed  that  at  any  time  there  is  a  defi- 
nite amount  of  capital  in  a  country,  and  that  the 
country  must  wait  for  the  next  harvest  or  so  before 
addition  could  be  made  to  the  stock,  especially  to 
the  stock  of  its  circulating  capital.  That  assump- 
tion is  too  remote  from  present  conditions  to  be  of 
use,  and  the  problem  is  now  simplified  by  making 
the  opposite  assumption.  The  nation  is  taken  not 
as  a  lone  island,  but  as  part  of  the  world,  and  the 
national  income  is  taken  as  produced,  distributed, 
exchanged,  and  consumed  every  day.  Into  this 
very  fluid  stream  comes  the  employer  to  direct  its 
course.  His  action  is  determined  by  the  price  that 
he  expects,  and  it  is  distributed  through  him.  He 
guarantees  the  other  agents  their  shares,  and  takes 
the  rest ;  he  buys  them  out.  If  he  is  a  contractor, 
he  knows  the  price  he  will  get,  and  what  he  can 
afford  to  pay  the  other  agents.  Or  he  may  under- 
take the  further  risk  of  not  knowing  the  price  he 
1  For  Distribution  of  wealth,  see  art.  Wealth. 


will  get ;  he  may  place  an  order  for  goods  in  view 
of  a  demand  that  he  hopes  to  find  or  create.  Or, 
e.g.,  as  a  mining  company,  he  may  have  to  speculate 
at  greater  risk.  His  profit  may  be  large,  or  it  may 
be  less  than  nothing,  according  to  the  price  that  he 
actually  gets  to  cover  his  output. 

The  employing  function  is  very  often  associated 
with  one  or  more  of  the  others  in  the  same  person, 
or  in  a  company,  as  when  a  lender,  or  a  landowner, 
has  to  take  part  of  the  business  risk,  or  when  an 
employer  uses  his  own  capital  and  land,  or  is  his 
own  manufacturer,  manager,  or  workman.  But 
the  functions  are  distinct,  and  receive  much  the 
same  shares  on  the  average  as  when  they  are  exer- 
cised by  different  persons. 

It  is  enough  merely  to  mention  that  commodi- 
ties which  form  the  real  national  dividend  are  ulti- 
mately distributed  not  merely  to  their  producers, 
but,  through  their  producers,  as  payment  for  all 
kinds  of  services — from  professional  to  domestic ; 
and  that,  to  provide  a  fund  for  the  variety  of 
public  services,  all  shares  are  more  or  less  tapped 
by  taxation. 

2.  The  shares. — In  dealing  with  the  relative 
amounts  that  go  to  the  four  factors  in  production, 
one  course  is  to  treat  rent,  interest,  and  wages  as 
prices,  and  to  follow  out  the  consideration  that, 
like  all  prices,  they  are  determined  by  this,  that 
each  has  a  marginal  q  uantity  and  quality  which  it 
just  pays  the  employer  to  buy.  The  margins  are 
not  independent  of  one  another,  since  the  em- 
ployer may  substitute  machinery  for  labour,  one 
kind  of  labour  for  another,  a  cheap  site  requiring 
much  capital  for  a  dear  one  requiring  less.  And 
he  expects  a  certain  margin  of  profit  for  his  own 
enterprise,  short  of  which  he  would  prefer  to  join 
the  ranks  of  the  employed.  But,  as  data  for  an 
ethical  judgment  of  the  system,  it  is  better  to 
regard  the  shares  more  directly. 

(a)  The  share  to  land  or  nature. — Economic 
rent  comes  out  of  the  price  of  a  commodity  in  re- 
spect of  the  superiority  of  the  soil  and  site  con- 
cerned in  its  production.  The  growing  demand 
for  food  and  raw  material,  houses  and  factories, 
requires  the  use  of  inferior  natural  conditions  ; 
resort  is  had  to  inferior  lands  and  sites,  and  more 
capital  and  labour  are  put  into  those  already  occu- 
pied, though  the  return  per  unit  is  less.  Since  it 
must  pay  to  use  the  inferior  conditions,  it  more 
than  pays  now  to  use  the  better.  The  surplus  is 
rent.  Hence  it  does  not  need  a  system  of  landlord 
and  tenant  in  order  that  there  should  be  rent. 
When  a  farm  is  cultivated  by  its  owner,  it  earns 
the  same  economic  rent  as  if  he  had  let  it,  for  its 
produce  brings  the  same  price. 

In  respect  of  the  amount  that  goes  as  rent,  it  is 
best,  and  it  is  the  practice,  to  begin  by  regarding 
a  farm  or  a  town-block  as  having  a  value  estimated 
from  its  selling  price,  or  from  its  earnings  capital- 
ized. Thus  the  earnings  are  all  profit  and  interest  on 
the  selling  price  ;  rent  is  not  something  additional, 
it  is  contained  in  the  profit  and  interest.  To  separ- 
ate it  out  is  to  make  a  fresh  analysis,  tracing  now 
the  stock  to  its  origin,  and  distinguishing  the  part 
that  is  not  due  to  the  owner's  capital  and  labour. 
Besides  '  the  natural  and  indestructible  powers  of 
the  soil '  and  the  suitability  of  the  site,  this  part 
includes  the  improvements,  e.g.  road  and  rail,  that 
are  due  to  the  capital  of  others.  Some  (e.g.  Pierson, 
Princ.  of  Econ.,  London,  1902,  vol.  i.  ch.  2)  include 
as  yielding  rent,  and  not  interest  and  profit,  all 
advantages  that  are  due  to  capital  permanently 
sunk  in  the  land.  But  theoretically  it  is  better, 
and  for  the  purpose  of  special  taxation  it  is  usually 
the  intention,  to  distinguish  the  advantages  of  land 
and  site  that  are  due  to  nature  or  to  the  expendi- 
ture of  others,  and  not  due  to  the  expenditure  of 
owners  present  or  past.      For  urban   lands  it  is 


774 


DISTRIBUTION 


thought  that  from  about  25  to  40  per  cent  of  their 
annual  value  is  rent,  the  higher  figure  being  the 
estimate  for  London.  Of  the  annual  value  of  agri- 
cultural land  in  England,  probably  23  per  cent  is 
pure  rent(R.  J.  Thompson,  Journ.  Boy.  Stat.  Soc, 
1907,  p.  610). 

(b)  The  share  to  capital. — This  must  not  only 
make  good  the  capital  that  is  consumed  in  pro- 
ducing the  commodity,  but  pay  interest  on  it  as 
well.  And  it  is  the  same  with  interest  as  with 
rent ;  capital  need  not  be  lent  in  order  to  earn 
interest.  If  the  owners  of  real  capital  use  it  them- 
selves, and  use  it  equally  well,  it  earns  much  the 
same  interest  as  when  the  capital  is  borrowed,  for 
its  products  get  much  the  same  price.  A  machine 
or  other  piece  of  real  capital  pays  its  costs  out  of 
its  products ;  and,  if  it  could  produce  them  all  at 
once,  there  would  be  no  interest,  for  the  price  got 
for  them  in  respect  of  the  machine  would  just  cover 
the  cost  of  the  machine.  But  to  do  its  work  the 
machine  needs  time.  This  involves  other  costs, 
e.g.  repairs,  insurance,  and  the  risk  of  becoming 
obsolete  ;  and  these  must  be  covered  by  the  price 
of  the  products.  But  also  the  mere  time  must  be 
paid  for,  and,  the  more  time  that  is  needed,  the  more 
the  produce  must  pay.  Interest  is,  therefore,  a  rate 
on  the  capital  per  unit  of  time  ;  and  it  is  paid  be- 
cause the  time  is  necessary,  like  the  power  that 
works  the  machine,  or  like  the  need  for  repairs. 
One  machine  or  process  would  be  able  to  displace 
another  equally  economical  in  all  other  respects,  if 
it  made  an  economy  merely  in  time.  From  this 
case  of  a  machine  and  its  working  we  may  general- 
ize regarding  the  interest  on  all  capital,  commercial 
as  well  as  industrial,  that  claims  a  share  in  the 
national  dividend  ;  for  the  bulk  of  loanable  capital 
is  employed  in  the  purchase  and  working  of  real 
capital.  Interest,  then,  is  the  share  of  the  price  of 
commodities  that  goes  to  capital  on  account  of  the 
time  that  the  capital  needs  to  get  its  products  and 
have  them  sold.  The  interest  on  capital  that  is 
borrowed,  not  for  production  but  for  consumption 
(e.g.  a  dwelling-house  or  a  war-loan),  does  not  con- 
cern us ;  it  is  not  an  additional  claim  to  a  share  in 
the  distribution  of  the  dividend,  but  merely  the 
exchange  of  one  person's  present  claim  for  an- 
other's in  the  future  that  suits  him  better.  It  may 
be  observed,  however,  that  the  rate  of  such  interest 
follows  the  rate  on  productive  capital,  so  far  as  it  is 
pure  interest,  and  not  also  a  premium  on  the  risk 
of  loss,  or  an  extortion  from  folly  or  distress. 

It  was  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  there  must  be 
a  minimum  rate  of  interest,  below  which  the  in- 
crease of  capital  would  be  checked,  and  the  rate 
correct  itself;  for  with  the  diffusion  of  wealth  come 
prudence  and  the  joy  of  possession.  On  the  other 
hand,  to  prophesy  that  the  rate  must  decline  is 
hazardous,  considering  the  demands  for  capital  that 
may  arise  at  any  time  to  meet  the  increasing  supply 
of  it.  But  a  normal  rate  over  long  periods  it  is 
quite  possible  to  distinguish ;  and  it  is  important 
to  do  so,  in  order  to  separate  pure  interest  from 
the  employer's  share,  from  rent,  and  from  gains 
and  losses  that  are  due  to  a  rise  or  fall  in  the  value 
of  the  capital  itself.  The  distinction  from  the 
employer's  share  is  already  obvious,  but  to  separate 
it  from  the  other  two  we  have  to  regard  interest 
as  a  rate  not  on  what  the  capital  may  have  cost 
originally,  but  on  its  selling  value.  Then  we  can 
say  that  all  capital,  so  far  as  it  is  used  as  capital, 
earns  interest,  and  that  competition  keeps  interest 
at  a  normal  rate  for  different  kinds  of  stock.  This 
rate  is  that  at  which  capital  remains  in  the  in- 
dustry ;  rates  are  above  and  below  the  normal, 
and  indicate  the  employer's  profit  and  loss,  when 
they  tend  to  increase  or  diminish  the  supply  of 
that  kind  of  capital.  When  an  owner  or  a  valuator 
finds  the  average  interest  in  a  stock  to  be  over  or 


under  the  normal,  he  writes  the  capital  value  up 
or  down  to  a  figure  at  which  the  capital  earns  the 
normal  rate  for  that  kind  of  stock.  Similarly  with 
government  and  other  stocks ;  it  is  the  interest 
that  is  regarded  as  constant,  and  the  owner's 
capital  that  is  written  up  or  down.  The  more  a 
stock  is  an  investment  stock,  the  more  this  is  ap- 
parent, and  it  is  really  the  same  with  stocks  that 
are  more  speculative.  The  interest  on  first-class 
securities  is  taken  as  the  minimum  of  the  normal 
rate.  The  minimum  varies  with  the  demand  for 
such  securities  and  their  supply,  and  for  different 
lengths  of  credit.  But  the  average  interest  on 
loans  for  three  months  on  these  securities  is  con- 
veniently regarded  as  the  rate  of  pure  interest, 
because  all  factors  are  eliminated  but  time.  From 
1844  to  1900  the  average  rate  of  the  Bank  of  Eng- 
land was  £3,  12s.  per  cent,  and  the  market  rate 
about  10s.  less  (Palgrave,  Bank  Bate  and  the  Money 
Market,  London,  1903). 

(c)  The  share  to  labour. — The  rest  of  the  product 
goes  to  the  living  factors.  The  relative  amount  of 
it  cannot  be  estimated  without  an  adequate  census 
of  production,  and,  in  particular,  because  the  esti- 
mation of  interest  has  to  be  made  on  the  earning 
capacity  of  capital,  and  not  on  its  cost.  But  the 
earning  capacity  of  the  living  factors  may  be  taken 
to  be  about  five  times  that  of  land  and  capital  to- 
gether (Nicholson,  Strikes  and  Social  Problems, 
Lond.  1896,  v.  and  vi. ).  The  struggle  between  labour 
and  capital  does  not  lie  here,  however ;  a  less  figure 
need  not  imply  any  loss  to  labour,  for  the  substitu- 
tion of  machinery  for  labour  is  to  the  ultimate 
advantage  of  the  latter.  The  struggle  is  not  of 
labour  against  rent  and  interest,  for  we  have  seen 
how  these  are  already  fixed  and  inevitable,  but  for 
the  division  of  the  share  that  goes  to  the  living 
factors.  Most  directly  it  is  between  the  share  to 
the  labour  or  enterprise  of  the  employer,  and  the 
shares  to  the  labour  of  all  kinds  that  he  hires. 

The  hired  labour  may  be  manual  or  mental,  in- 
dustrial or  commercial,  the  labour  of  workman, 
clerk,  or  manager.  And  it  is  not  of  theoretical 
importance  whether  the  wages  are  paid  weekly  or 
as  salaries  ;  for  whether  the  employer  pays  before 
selling  the  product  is  immaterial,  the  essential 
thing  being  that  the  share  is  made  a  fixed  cost, 
independent  of  the  business  risk.  But,  while  it  is 
the  struggle  between  employer  and  employed  that 
is  most  in  evidence,  the  real  struggle  is  deeper. 
As  in  all  buying  and  selling  we  see  competition  in 
the  higgling  between  buyer  and  seller,  but  behind, 
and  entirely  determining  the  average  price,  there 
is  the  more  vital  struggle  of  buyer  with  buyer  and 
seller  with  seller,  so  it  is  in  the  labour  market. 
This  was  wrongly  expressed  in  the  'wages-fund' 
theory,  which  required  a  rise  in  the  wages  of  one 
class  of  labour  to  be  met  by  a  fall  in  wages  else- 
where. The  theory  was  right  in  holding  that  the 
action  both  of  the  buyer  and  of  the  seller  of  labour 
is  limited  ;  but  the  limit  is  not  capital  but  the  price 
of  the  product.  And  it  was  also  right  in  saying  that 
the  classes  of  labour  are  in  mutual  competition ; 
but  the  force  of  each  depends  ultimately  on  its 
efficiency.  This  is  partly  obscured  when  the  power 
of  collective  bargaining  is  strong  in  one  class  and 
weak  in  another,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  and  expected 
that  the  lower  grades  will  advance  more  rapidly 
than  those  requiring  skill,  intelligence,  and  man- 
aging ability ;  but  progress  and  competition  will 
continue  to  make  the  great  difference.  They  will 
continue  to  determine  the  supply  of  labour  at  the 
different  grades,  and  thus  to  make  the  differences 
in  wages  and  salaries  correspond  with  a  difference 
in  ability.  It  seems  unjust  that  in  almost  any 
industrial  group  it  is  the  most  wearing  and  un- 
pleasant labour  that  gets  the  smallest  share  of  the 
product ;  but  the  unfairness  cannot  be  charged  to 


DIVINATION  (Introductory  and  Primitive) 


775 


the  system  of  distribution,  so  long  as  efficiency  is 
taken  for  the  test  of  desert.  For  it  is  no  part  of  the 
system  itself  that  competition  must  be  greatest 
at  the  bottom  and  least  at  the  top,  and  that  the 
hardest  and  most  monotonous  labour  should  thus 
have  to  rank  as  least  efficient.  A  considerable 
part  of  the  rise  in  the  average  wages  of  manual 
labour  has  been  due  to  the  rise  in  occupation. 

'  The  constant  tendency  away  from  agriculture  and  the  tex- 
tiles, where  the  average  earnings  of  all  employed,  either  through 
the  low  relative  wages  of  the  male  (as  in  agriculture),  or  the 
large  relative  employment  of  lower-paid  women  and  children, 
are  low,  towards  the  "more  highly-paid  engineering,  mining,  and 
building  industries,  has  had  the  effect  of  increasing  the  average 
earnings  of  all  employed  in  industrial  occupations  more  rapidly 
than  the  earnings  in  the  occupations  taken  separately.  .  .  .  The 
Standard  of  Comfort  of  the  British  wage-earner  is  now,  on  the 
average,  not  less  than  50  per  cent,  and  probably  nearer  80  per 
cent,  higher  than  that  of  his  predecessor  in  1850,  and  of  this 
advance  more  than  one-half  has  been  obtained  during  the  past 
quarter  of  a  century '  (G.  H.  Wood,  Journ.  Roy.  Stat.  Soc.,  1909, 
pp.  98, 101). 

(d)  The  share  to  enterprise. — Profit  is  what  re- 
mains of  the  price  of  the  product  after  the  employer 
has  paid  the  other  shares.  There  are  all  grades 
of  enterprise,  from  those  requiring  little  capital 
and  ability  to  those  requiring  much,  and  ordinarily 
there  is  competition  at  all  grades  with  other  em- 
ploying individuals  or  companies.  The  individual 
Erofit  is  frequently  little  more  than  the  salary  of  a 
ired  manager  at  the  same  grade,  and,  consider- 
ing the  number  of  failures,  the  average  is  possibly 
less. 

'  There  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  the  community  gets  its 
employing  done  for  it  more  cheaply  than  it  gets  any  other 


service,  just  because  the  speculation  and  the  free  life  are  very 
large  elements  in  the  real  remuneration  '  (Smart,  The  Distribu- 
tion 0/  Income,  p.  163). 

The  existence  of  the  employer  and  his  profit, 
which  distinguishes  the  present  system  from  ita 
predecessors,  has  often  been  regarded  as  its  defect ; 
and  Socialism  (q.v.)  is  the  view  that  this  function 
should  be  undertaken  by  the  State,  and  not  by 
individuals  or  companies.  The  discussion  on  the 
question  is  beyond  the  scope  of  this  article  ;  but  it 
may  be  repeated,  on  behalf  of  the  present  system, 
that  many  of  the  current  economic  evils  are  wrongly 
charged  against  it.  The  system  of  distribution 
would  not  be  affected,  for  example,  by  any  measures 
of  taxation  and  expenditure  that  aimed  at  a  better 
distribution  of  wealth ;  and  the  regulation  of  mono- 
polies is  an  essential  office  of  Government,  which 
has  given  freedom  from  its  old  control  only  because 
it  has  found  a  more  effectual  substitute  in  competi- 
tion. The  most  serious  defects  lie  in  competition 
itself ;  but  the  defects  are  not  all  inevitable,  and 
they  prevent  the  very  efficiency  which  the  system 
is  meant  to  bring  out.     Cf.  art.  Competition. 

Literature. — All  the  text-books  in  economics  give  a  promi- 
nent place  to  distribution  ;  several  books  are  confined  to  the 
subject,  the  most  distinctive  being  J.  B.  Clark,  The  Distribu- 
tion of  Wealth,  London,  1900,  and  W.  Smart,  The  Distribution 
of  Income,  Glasgow,  1899.  Wages,  interest,  and  rent  have  each 
a  large  literature ;  and  the  recent  works  on  monopolies  and 
trusts  may  be  regarded  as  the  special  authorities  on  profits.  In 
comparative  statistics  regarding  wages,  special  reference  ma  ? 
be  made  to  the  work  done  by  Rowley  and  Wood,  and  for 
current  comparisons  there  are  the  Reports  of  the  Board  of 
Trade  mentioned  under  art.  Consumption  (Economic),  to  which 
has  now  to  be  added  the  corresponding  Report  on  Wages  and 
the  Cost  of  Living  in  U.S.A.  (1911).  W.  MITCHELL. 


DIVINATION. 


Introductory  (H.  J.  Rose),  p.  775. 
American  (L.  Spence),  p.  7S0. 
Assyro-Babylonian  (L.  W.  King),  p.  783. 
Buddhist  (L.  A.  Waddell),  p.  786. 
Burmese. — See  Burma. 
Celtic  (G.  Dottin),  p.  787. 
Christian  (T.  Barns),  p.  788. 
Egyptian  (G.  Foucart),  p.  792. 
Greek  (H.  J.  Rose),  p.  796. 

DIVINATION  (Introductory  and  Primitive).— 
By  '  divination '  is  meant  the  endeavour  to  obtain 
information  about  things  future  or  otherwise  re- 
moved from  ordinary  perception,  by  consulting 
informants  other  than  human.  While  mostly 
directed  to  foretelling  coming  events,  it  is  not 
confined  to  this,  but  may  seek  to  find  out,  e.g., 
what  is  going  on  at  home  while  the  inquirer  is 
abroad.  Ancient  as  well  as  modern  thinkers  have 
repeatedly  denounced  it  and  exposed  its  fallacy  ; 
nevertheless  it  is  still  practised  all  over  the  world 
by  the  more  backward  races  of  mankind  and  by 
uneducated  members  of  the  civilized  peoples. 
Even  under  the  highest  religions  —  Buddhism, 
Islam,  Judaism,  Christianity  itself — diviners,  like 
other  magicians,  have  continued  to  flourish,  al- 
though their  arts  form  no  part  of  the  prevailing 
rites  and  beliefs,  and,  indeed,  have  been  often  and 
vigorously  denounced  by  the  leaders  of  religion. 
Like  other  pseudo-sciences,  divination  rests  on 
very  ancient  and  wide-spread  convictions,  inherited 
from  lower  levels  of  culture  ;  and  its  great  strong- 
hold is  in  the  utter  inability  of  the  undeveloped 
human  mind  to  understand  and  appreciate  a  nega- 
tive argument.  No  doubt  wilful  deceit  on  the 
part  of  diviners  has  done  much  to  retain  their  hold 
on  popular  belief  ;  but  for  the  most  part  they  have 
been  the  dupes  of  their  own  pretensions,  and,  like 
their  consultants,  have  remembered  successful  pre- 
dictions and  forgotten  unsuccessful  ones. 

Divination  is  a  pseudo-science,  and  has  a  cer- 


Indian  (H.  Jacobi),  p.  799. 

Japanese  (M.  Revon),  p.  801. 
Jewish  (M.  Gaster),  p.  806. 
Litu-Slavic  (O.  Schrader),  p.  814. 
Muslim  (D.  S.  Margoliouth),  p.  816. 
Persian  (L.  H.  Gray),  p.  818. 
Roman  (G.  Wissowa),  p.  820. 
Teutonic  (C.  J.  Gaskell),  p.  827. 
Vedic  (G.  M.  Bolling),  p.  827. 

tain  order  and  logicality  in  its  structure,  once  its 
erroneous  premisses  are  granted  ;  although  it  must 
be  remembered  that  the  logic  of  uncivilized  and 
semi-civilized  man — or,  for  that  matter,  of  our  own 
children — is  much  less  stringent  than  ours,  and 
less  quick  to  detect  fallacies.  Indeed,  the  whole 
argument  for  divination  may  be  said  to  be  based 
on  a  glaring  fallacy  of  '  ambiguous  middle.'  To 
explain  this,  it  is  necessary  to  consider  what  train 
of  thought  may  be  supposed  to  have  given  rise  to 
the  beliefs  under  discussion. 

Perhaps  the  first  idea  which  suggests  itself  is 
that  divination  grew  out  of  false  induction.  A  sav- 
age, we  may  imagine,  noticed  a  bird,  for  instance, 
behaving  in  a  peculiar  way,  and  soon  afterwards 
met  with  some  mishap.  He  put  the  two  happen- 
ings together,  did  the  same  in  several  other  cases, 
and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  such-and-such  a 
movement  on  the  part  of  a  hawk  or  parrot  meant 
that  the  observer  was  in  danger  of  a  bad  fall, 
or  would  have  no  luck  if  he  went  fishing.  That 
such  a  train  of  reasoning  may  often  have  taken 
place  we  do  not  deny  ;  but  we  are  of  opinion  that 
such  a  process  would  not  be  likely  to  lead  to  any- 
thing more  than  a  miscellaneous  series  of  omens, 
not  a  system  such  as  divination  often  is  among 
quite  uncivilized  races.  Also  it  would  result  in 
the  most  arbitrary  relations  between  omen  and 
subsequent  event ;  whereas  between  the  sign  and 
the  thing  signified  there  very  often  exists,  allow- 
ing for  uncivilized  ways  of  thought,  a  perfectly 


776 


DIVINATION  (Introductory  and  Primitive) 


rational  connexion,  sometimes  amounting  to 
causality. 

It  seems,  then,  more  likely  that  divination 
should  be  treated  as  a  branch  of  sympathetic 
magic,  and  regarded  as  a  deduction  or  series  of 
deductions  from  a  vaguely  conceived  principle  of 
something  like  the  uniformity  of  Nature.  The 
reasoning  may  be  thus  paraphrased  in  our  definite 
phraseology :  like  causes  produce  like  effects ; 
therefore  this  occurrence,  which  is  like  that  other 
one,  'will  produce  a  like  result.  The  fallacy  lies 
in  the  ambiguity  of  '  like,'  and  the  reasoner's  in- 
ability to  differentiate  between  those  things  whose 
likeness  to  one  another  is  real  and  essential  and 
those  which  bear  only  an  accidental  or  fanciful 
resemblance  to  one  another.  Thus,  '  whistling  for 
a  wind '  rests  on  the  likeness  between  whistling 
and  the  rush  of  an  actual  breeze ;  while  in  the 
realm  of  omens,  the  Melanesian  belief,  that,  if  a 
non-domestic  animal,  entering  the  house,1  makes 
any  outcry,  a  death  will  ensue,  seems  to  rest  on 
the  resemblance  of  the  strange  creature's  cry  to 
the  wailing  of  mourners.  How  real  the  causal 
connexion  is  often  felt  to  be  is  clear  from  the 
innumerable  cases  in  all  grades  of  civilization  of 
avoidance  or  neutralization  of  bad  omens — taking 
away  the  cause,  that  is,  to  prevent  the  effect. 
Thus  the  Manipuris,  if  they  meet  with  a  mole  on 
a  journey — a  bad  omen—  try  to  kill  it  (Hodson, 
p.  132). 

But  this  simple  process  is  not  in  itself  sufficient 
to  account  for  all  the  ramifications  of  the  diviner's 
art.2  At  least  two  main  developments  must  be 
noted.  The  first  is  the  elaboration  of  the  sup- 
posedly causal  or  quasi-causal  connexion  between 
omen  and  event  into  a  system,  often  very  complex 
and  intricate,  of  symbolism — a  system,  the  gaps 
in  which,  as  Tylor  notes,  are  apt  to  be  filled  by 
the  invention  of  new  omens,  arbitrarily,  or  on  the 
analogy  of  those  already  existing.  The  second 
comes  with  the  advance  of  religious  belief  and  the 
growing  importance  of  deities  of  one  sort  or  an- 
other. Men  come  to  think  of  omens  as  sent  by 
them.  A  good  example  of  this  is  the  Dayak  idea 
that  the  hawk,  their  chief  omen  bird,  while  it 
sometimes  comes  of  its  own  accord  to  foretell 
the  future,  is  regularly  the  messenger  of  Balli 
Penyalong,  the  Supreme  Being.8  Finally,  it  must 
be  remembered  that,  although  the  chief  source  of 
divination  is  probably  sympathetic  magic,  other 
ideas  have  contributed  to  the  long  list  of  omens.4 

Divination  may  be  roughly  divided  into  two 
kinds:  (a)  'automatic'  divination,  in  which  an 
omen  is  looked  for  and  interpreted,  so  to  speak,  in 
its  own  right,  with  no  thought  of  appeal  to  any 
supernormal  power,  god,  or  spirit ;  and  (b)  divina- 
tion proper,  in  the  strict  etymological  sense  of  the 
word,  which  inquires  of  some  sort  of  a  deity, 
generally  by  means  of  signs  conceived  of  as  being 
sent  by  him.  But  of  many  cases  it  is  hard  to  say 
which  category  they  fall  under.  Take  the  well- 
known  method  of  divining  by  the  Bible  and  key  ; 
we  doubt  if  the  people  who  use  this  method  could 
say  definitely  whether  they  suppose  the  answer 
to  be  sent  by  God  or  to  come  from  some  quasi- 
magical  power  inherent  in  the  book  itself.  The 
same  applies  to  many  such  survivals ;  one  is  in 
doubt  whether  to  consider  them  purely  magical  or 
affected  by  the  current  religion.  For  the  purposes 
of  this  article,  we  shall  classify  divination  accord- 
ing to  the  means  employed,  noting  roughly  the 
distribution  of  each. 

1  For  the  ominous  nature  of  such  an  occurrence  in  general, 
see  below. 

2  It  should  be  noted  that,  although  no  people  apparently  is 
without  some  system  of  divination,  the  ruder  tribes  (e.g.  the 
Australian  blacks)  have  only  very  rudimentary  ideas  of  it,  and 
seem  to  use  it  but  little. 

3  Hose-McDougall,  in  JA1  xxxi.  179. 

*  See  esp.  §  7,  on  '  Divination  from  animals.' 


1.  Dreams. — That  a  dream  may  be  in  some  way 
prophetic  is  a  view  held  by  all  races  at  all  times, 
and  still  popular,  to  judge  by  the  numerous 
modern  dream-books.1  The  simplest  form  is  that 
the  dreamer  sees,  as  actually  as  if  he  were  awake, 
what  is  being  done  or  at  least  contemplated.  A 
recent  book 2  gives  an  excellent  account  of  the 
way  the  Lenguas  of  the  Paraguayan  Chaco  regard 
dreams.     We  quote  a  typical  case  : 

'  A  spirit  appeared  in  the  form  of  a  horned  beetle,  and,  flying 
round  the  sleeper  several  times,  eventually  entered  his  body  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  knee.  The  pain  of  its  entrance  was  dis- 
tinctly felt.  The  sleeper,  awakening,  noticed  no  mark  or  other 
sign  of  injury.  The  pain,  however,  was  still  slightly  felt. 
What  explanation  could  there  be,  according  to  the  Indian's 
way  of  thinking,  except  that  an  actual  beetle  had  entered, 
possessed  by  a  spirit? ' 

The  explanation  usually  given  by  savages  is  that 
the  dreamer's  soul,  or  one  of  his  souls,3  goes  away 
from  his  body  and  sees  the  things  he  dreams  of. 
Hence  the  reluctance  among  many  uncivilized 
peoples  to  awaken  a  sleeper — his  soul  may  be  shut 
out,  or  an  evil  spirit  get  in,  etc. 

Another  idea  is  that  the  temporarily  liberated 
spirit  visits  the  spirit  world  and  there  secures 
information.  This,  we  gather,  is  the  Ewe  belief,4 
and  it  is  frequently  met  with  elsewhere.  Or  the 
revelation  may  be  given  by  spirits  visiting  the 
dreamer.  An  excellent  example  of  this  is  found  in 
the  skull-divination  of  the  Torres  Straits 5  natives. 
A  skull,  preferably  that  of  a  kinsman,  is  placed, 
after  sundry  honorific  ceremonies,  beside  the 
pillow  of  the  consultant.  In  his  sleep  he  hears  it 
speaking  to  him,  with  a  sound  like  teeth  chatter- 
ing. The  modern  method  of  putting  bridescake 
under  one's  pillow  would  seem  to  be  a  survival  of 
an  even  cruder  kind  of  magic.  Finally,  a  god,  not 
a  mere  ancestral  spirit,  may  choose  this  method  of 
sending  an  oracle,  and  in  that  case  the  dream  is 
generally  sought  for  by  sleeping  in  a  holy  place — 
the  Greek  iyKol^o-is  (see  Divination  [Greek]).  An 
example  from  lower  culture  is  the  N.  Amer.  Indian 
custom — found  also  among  the  Dayaks — of  going 
to  some  solitary  and  more  or  less  holy  or  haunted 
spot,  to  learn  in  a  dream  or  ecstatic  vision  the 
identity  of  one's  guardian  spirit. 

But,  even  with  the  simplest  and  crudest  ideas  of 
dream-divination,  it  soon  becomes  clear  that  all 
dreams  cannot  be  taken  literally.  To  enumerate 
all  the  methods  of  interpretation  would  be  an  end- 
less task ;  perhaps  the  simplest  case  is  that  in 
which  the  dreamer  dreams  of  something  which,  if 
actually  seen,  would  be  ominous :  e.g.  in  certain 
parts  of  Australia,  to  dream  of  '  old-man '  kan- 
garoos sitting  about  the  camp  presages  the  advent, 
not  of  kangaroos,  but  of  danger ;  and  the  kangaroo 
sometimes  gives  omens  to  men  awake.6  With  the 
increasing  complication  of  dream-interpreting,  the 
services  of  a  professional  diviner  become  necessary. 
He  may  either  dream  himself,  like  the  Melanesian 
tatua  qoreqore,1  or  interpret  other  people's  dreams, 
like  the  Naga  maiba.s 

Distribution  :  world-wide.  Typical  cases  are  : 
literal  interpretation  (Sea  Dayaks) ; 9  symbolic 
dreams  (Malays).10 

2.  Presentiments  may  perhaps  be  noticed  here, 
although  they  hardly  amount  to  actual  divination. 
The  Zulus,  for  instance,  believe  that  a  man  look- 

1  See  Aristotle,  De  div.  e  somn.,  for  an  eminently  clear-headed 
discussion  of  this  belief. 

2  W.  B.  Grubb,  An  Unknown  People  in  an  Unknown  Land, 
1911,  p.  127  ff. 

3  Men  have  several  souls  apiece,  according,  e.g.,  to  the  Sea 
Dayaks. 

4  Spieth,  p.  664.  6  Camb.  Exp.  p.  361  ff. 

6  Howitt,  p.  400  ff. ;  cf.  Hodson,  p.  129  :  '  The  Tangkhuls  say 
that  a  man  who  is  attacked  by  a  buffalo  will  lose  any  lawsuit 
in  which  he  happens  at  that  time  to  be  involved.  They  also 
believe  that,  if  a  man  dreams  that  he  is  attacked  by  a  buffalo, 
he  will  suffer  similar  misfortune.' 

^  Codrington,  p.  208.  8  Hodson,  p.  129. 

8  Gomes,  Seventeen  Years  among  the  Sea  Dyaks,  1911,  p.  181 
lOSkeat,  p.  5323. 


DIVINATION  (Introductory  and  Primitive) 


777 


ing  for  a  thing  sometimes  '  feels  internally  a 
pointing '  which  will  guide  him  aright ;  '  but  if  it 
is  done  by  mere  head-guessing  ...  he  generally 
misses  the  mark,'  to  quote  a  Zulu  cited  by 
Callaway. 

Distribution :  not  specifically  mentioned  by 
most  of  our  authorities,  but  may  be  presumed  to 
be  universal  or  nearly  so. 

From  these  cases,  in  which  a  man  may  almost 
be  said  to  prophesy  to  himself,  we  turn  to  the 
large  class  of — 

3.  Divination  from  bodily  actions.  —  Of  the 
various  involuntary  movements  and  noises  of 
which  the  human  body  is  capable,  perhaps  sneez- 
ing is  the  one  most  universally  regarded  as 
ominous,  and,  in  nearly  all  cases,  as  a  bad  omen. 
The  reason  is  apparently  that  it  is  feared  that  the 
internal  convulsion  may  disturb  or  drive  out  the 
soul.1  Hence  the  common  custom  of  blessing 
the  sneezer,  prevalent  alike  in  civilized  Germany 
{Gesundheit  !)  and  among  the  Nandi  (Kd '-we.it -in 
Asis,  '  God  be  good  to  you  ! ')  We  cannot  recall 
any  non-classical  examples  of  the  idea  that  a 
sneeze  is  a  sign  sent  to  denote  Divine  approval  of 
words  or  actions  (see  Divination  [Greek]). 

A  curious  form  of  divination  is  the  Melanesian 
so  ilo.  Tn  this,  the  hands  are  rubbed  above  the 
head  and  a  ghost  (tindalo)  invoked  by  a  magic 
song.  A  cracking  of  the  joints,  variously  signifi- 
cant according  to  the  particular  joint  which  cracks, 
is  taken  to  be  the  spirit's  answer  (Codrington,  211). 
Other  ominous  signs  are  hiccuping,  the  twitching  of 
an  eyelid,  and  so  on  ;  but  these  omens  are  mostly 
trivial  and  not  much  regarded  either  by  savages  or 
by  civilized  races.  The  sneeze,  stumbling,2  and  so 
ilo  are  the  only  really  important  ones  we  know  of. 
Some  voluntary  actions  are  considered  unlucky, 
and  therefore  avoided,  by  various  races  ; s  but  this 
is  hardly  divination,  nor  is  the  idea  that  '  praise 
to  the  face  is  open  disgrace ' — very  common  among 
many  peoples  from  Europeans  downwards — pro- 
perly germane  to  our  subject. 

Distribution :  important  cases  given  above ; 
minor  omens  from  bodily  actions  are  world-wide. 

All  the  above  forms  of  divination  depend  upon 
a  more  or  less  normal  condition ;  we  now  proceed 
to  consider  those  which  depend  upon  an  abnormal 
state  of  body  or  mind,  or  both. 

4.  Divination  by  ordeal  may  be  thus  classed. 
Ordeals  are  of  two  kinds :  either  a  suspected  per- 
son (or  the  suspect  and  his  accuser)  is  subjected  to 
some  process  which  would  normally  injure  or  en- 
danger him  ;  or  the  process  is  a  magical  one,  with 
power  to  hurt  the  guilty,  but  not  the  innocent. 
Examples  of  the  first  class  are  the  ancient  European 
'  judgment  of  God  '  or  '  wager  by  battle,'  and  the 
Gold  Coast  method  of  making,  e.g.,  a  wife  suspected 
of  infidelity  plunge  her  hand  into  boiling  oil.4 
The  innocent  and  wrongfully  accused  person  is 
Divinely  aided  to  win  the  combat,  or  protected 
against  what  would  normally  harm  him  or  her. 
The  author  believes  that  this  is  the  root-idea  of 
judicial  torture,  at  least  among  people  so  humane 
in  general  as  the  ancient  Athenians.  The  idea 
probably  was  that  an  innocent  man  or  a  truthful 
witness  would  feel  no  pain.6  Of  the  second  class 
the  Nandi  and  Masai  furnish  very  instructive  ex- 

1  Tylor,  i.  100  ff.;  cf.  Ellis,  203  ;  the  Asha'nti  believe  a  sneeze 
indicates  'something  unpleasant  or  painful  having  happened 
to  the  indwelling;  kva.' 

2  e.g.  among  the  Malays  (Skeat,  p.  553) ;  also  Graeco-Roman 
(see  special  articles)  and  modern  (see  §  n,  '  Survivals  '). 

3  Thus  a  Malay  child  is  scolded  if  he  lies  on  his  belly — the 
almost  universal  attitude  of  a  resting  child — as  this  is  con- 
sidered unlucky ;  and  sundry  bits  of  table  etiquette  amongst 
the  same  people  have  a  similar  sanction  (Skeat,  p.  533  f .).  Cf. 
the  classical  habit  of  entering  a  room  right  foot  first. 

*  Ellis,  p.  196  f.,  gives  examples  of  both  classes. 

5  Ellis,  p.  201,  remarks  that  a  guilty  woman  will  often  confess 
rather  than  face  the  ordeal,  as  a  beating  hurts  less  than  a  badly 
scalded  hand ! 


amples.  Among  the  former,1  the  accused  lays  a 
skull  at  the  accuser's  door,  saying  :  '  If  1  have  done 
this  thing,  may  this  head  eat  me;  if  I  have  not 
done  it,  may  it  eat  thee,'  and  one  or  the  other 
dies  accordingly.  Among  the  latter,2  the  accused 
drinks  blood,  saying :  '  If  I  have  done  this  deed, 
may  God  kill  me!  (Ten  ataasa  elle-bae,  naaar 
eng-A'i) ;  and,  if  guilty,  he  dies  accordingly.  These 
different  methods,  occurring  among  tribes  so  near 
to  each  other  in  territory  and  culture,  warn  us  of 
the  thinness  of  the  party- wall  between  magic  and 
religion.  This  eng-A'i,  who  punishes  the  guilty 
man  in  the  latter  case,  is  a  genuine  deity — a  '  high 
god ' ;  but  in  the  corresponding  ordeal  of  the  neigh- 
bouring tribe,  it  is  the  inherent  magical  power  of 
the  skull  (or  the  ghost),  apparently,  which  '  eats ' 
the  false  swearer.  It  is  noteworthy  that  the  Nandi 
diviners,  who  in  other  respects  are  exactly  like 
their  Masai  confreres,  are  said  to  worship,  not 
Asista,  their  '  high  god,'  but  the  ancestral  spirits." 
But  the  root-idea  is  trie  same  in  any  case :  guilt 
weakens  the  wrong-doer,  robs  him  of  his  mana  or 
of  Divine  favour,  and  so  renders  him  an  easy  prey 
to  any  injury,  natural  or  magical.  This  weakness 
extends  to  his  agents,  as  in  the  Malay  ordeal  by 
diving,  described  by  Skeat  (p.  542  f.).  In  this, 
boys,  hired  by  the  parties  to  a  suit,  plunge 
simultaneously  under  water,  with  the  result  that 
the  representative  of  the  party  in  the  wrong  has  to 
come  up  again  at  once,  while  the  other  is  not  in- 
convenienced. Such  a  belief  as  this  indicates  a 
people  not  without  some  advancement  in  moral 
ideas. 

Distribution:  Africa,  passim ;  in  Asia,  e.g.  among 
the  Nagas  ;  also  in  Melanesia  and  among  Malays  ; 
formerly  in  Europe ;  not  in  Australia ;  traces  in 
North  America. 

5.  Divination  by  possession  ('shamanizing'). — 
Not  only  do  spirits  visit  sleepers,  but  they  often 
possess  a  diviner  or  priest,  rousing  him  to  a  pro- 
phetic frenzy.  This  belief,  while  adopted  by  some 
higher  cults,  as  that  of  Apollo  (see  Divination 
[Greek]),  is  most  characteristic  of  those  races  in 
whose  religion  the  spirits  of  the  dead  are  promi- 
nent. Thus,  the  shamans  of  the  Tunguses  in 
Siberia  are  possessed,  not  by  Tengri  Kaira  Khan, 
or  Erlik  (the  leading  good  and  bad  deities  respec- 
tively), or  by  any  of  their  emissaries,  but  by  the 
ancestral  spirits — the  objects,  one  may  conjecture, 
of  an  older  cult.  We  translate  a  part  of  Kadloff's 
vivid  account  : 

*The  individual  marked  out  by  the  might  of  the  ancestors  for 
shamanhood  feels  a  sudden  faintness  and  exhaustion  ...  a 
heavy  weight  presses  on  his  breast  and  suddenly  wrings  from 
him  violent,  inarticulate  screams.'  (After  wild  paroxysms  he 
sinks  to  the  ground.)  '  His  limbs  are  wholly  insensitive ;  he 
snatches  whatever  he  can  lay  his  hands  on,  and  swallows  aim- 
lessly everything  he  gets  hold  of — hot  iron,  knives,  needles, 
.  .  .  afterwards  casting  up  dry  and  uninjured  what  he  has 
swallowed.' 

Apparently  this  eccentric  diet  does  him  no  harm. 
His  only  relief  is  to  seize  the  shaman's  drum  and 
begin  to  '  shamanize ' :  his  chief  danger  is  that  he 
may  resist  the  frenzy  and  die  or  go  mad.  Not  till 
after  this  experience  does  he  receive  any  instruc- 
tion in  his  art  from  other  shamans.  He  is  able,  by 
the  help  of  the  spirits,  to  foretell  the  future,  be- 
sides exercising  various  priestly  functions.  There 
seems  to  be  no  doubt  of  the  sincerity  of  some,  at 
least,  of  these  men,  who  continue  to  ply  their 
art  despite  Governmental  prohibition.  '  I  must 
shamanize,'  said  one  of  them  to  a  traveller,  '  both 
for  my  own  sake  and  that  of  my  people.'4  What 
their  actual  state  is  during  '  possession '  we  leave 
to  physiologists  to  determine.     The  shamans  of 

1  Hollis,  Nandi,  p.  76.  2  Hollis,  Masai,  p.  345. 

3  So  the  Toda  diviners  are  mostly  possessed  by  foreign  gnds  ; 
and,  in  general,  where  a  race's  religion  has  advanced  beyond  the 
earliest  stages,  the  diviners,  like  other  magicians,  represent  the 
older  and  cruder  forms. 

-i  Stadling,  in  CR,  1901,  p.  86  f. 


778 


DIVINATION  (Introductory  and  Primitive) 


Northern  Asia  use  a  drum  in  divining ;  but  in 
some  other  cases  the  possessing  spirits  speak  by 
the  mouth  of  the  wizard,  as  among  the  Tshi- 
speaking  peoples,1  whose  priests  are  possessed,  not 
by  spirits,  but  by  gods.  Some  similar  cases  will 
be  considered  in  the  next  paragraph. 

Distribution :  Ural-Altaic  races  of  N.  Asia  and 
Europe ;  N.  America  (see  DIVINATION  [American]) ; 
more  or  less  modified  forms  common  in  Africa  and 
elsewhere  (e.g.  Todas). 

6.  Necromancy. — Death  increases  rather  than 
diminishes  a  man's  magical  powers,  including  his 
prophetic  faculties.  Hence  we  find  the  wide-spread 
practice  (of  which,  indeed,  shamanizing  might  be 
considered  a  variant)  of  consulting  either  the  souls 
of  the  dead  in  general  or  the  soul  of  a  particular 
dead  man,  or  his  corpse.  A  very  crude  instance  of 
the  last  comes  from  Central  Australia.  Tree-burial 
is  largely  practised  among  these  tribes,  and  it  is 
the  custom  to  observe  the  direction  taken  by  the 
liquid  matter  exuding  from  the  corpse  and  flowing 
along  the  ground.  If  the  stream  flows,  say,  north, 
the  slayer  lives  to  the  northward  ; 2  if  it  is  short, 
he  is  close  at  hand  ;  if  long,  he  is  far  away.  Skull- 
divination  has  already  been  noticed,  and  might  be 
classed  under  necromancy.  But  we  are  chiefly 
concerned  with  necromancy  proper,  or  the  evoking 
and  consulting  of  ghosts.  This,  as  distinct  from 
seeing  a  ghost  casually  in  a  dream,  or  meeting  or 
hearing  one  unsought,  which  might  happen  to 
any  one,  is  the  task  of  a  professional  diviner  or  a 
priest.  Thus  the  Zulu  witch-doctor  is  visited  by 
the  amatongo  (=manes)  and  their  voices  are  heard 
giving  answers.  '  The  voice,'  says  a  native  witness, 
quoted  by  Callaway,  '  was  like  that  of  a  very  little 
child  ...  it  speaks  above,  among  the  wattles  of 
the  hut ' — a  clear  case  of  ventriloquism.  Among  the 
Melanesians  a  tindalo,  or  ghost,  comes  on  board  a 
canoe,  its  presence  being  detected  by  a  mane  kisu, 
or  diviner,  and  gives  affirmative  or  negative  signs 
in  answer  to  the  question,  '  Shall  we  go  to  such-a- 
place  ? '  The  Ewe  diviners  summon  a  tro  s  in  case 
of  sickness,  and  from  its  answers— inaudible  to  pro- 
fane ears — foretell  the  course  of  the  disease,  and  so 
on.  In  most,  if  not  all,  cases,  the  spirits  thus  con- 
sulted are  given  offerings  of  various  kinds  to  win 
their  favour  and  induce  them  not  only  to  foretell, 
but  to  make  things  turn  out  as  the  inquirer  wishes 
(see  Spieth,  I.e.). 

One  curious  case  might  be  called  either  necro- 
mancy or  ordeal.  It  comes  from  the  Gold  Coast, 
and  is  used  when  a  creditor  makes  a  claim  on  a  dead 
man's  estate,  about  which  the  heirs  are  doubtful. 
The  claimant  drinks  water  in  which  the  corpse 
has  been  washed,  swearing  to  the  accuracy  of 
his  statement ;  if  he  is  lying,  the  power  (sisa)  of 
the  deceased  will  punish  him.4  This  is  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  difficulty  of  applying  any  rigid  classi- 
fication to  a  large  and  miscellaneous  body  of  savage 
beliefs. 

Distribution  :  in  one  form  or  another,  world- 
wide.    Typical  instances  are  given  above. 

From  men,  living  or  dead,  we  pass  to  their 
surroundings,  animate  and  inanimate.  Beginning 
with  the  former,  we  find  a  large  and  interesting 
class. 

7.  Divination  from  animals. — (a)  Augury. — The 
movements  of  birds  or  beasts  are  considered  ominous 
in  some  degree  by  nearly,  if  not  quite,  all  races.   In 

1  Ellis,  p.  191.  Note  that  in  a  few  cases  (as  the  Masai  [Hollis, 
p.  324  f.])  a  frenzy  is  induced  by  an  intoxicant  or  other  drug. 

2  '  Death  from  natural  causes '  is  a  notion  quite  foreign  to 
Australian  blacks  ;  all  deathB  are  caused  either  by  violence 
or  by  magic.  Compare  Marett,  Threshold  of  lleliqion,  1909, 
p.  26. 

3  Spieth,  p.  606. 

4  Ellis,  p.  197  f.  Note  the  primitiveness  of  this  rite  among  a 
people  who,  according  to  Ellis,  '  implicitly  believe  in  the  super- 
human power  of  their  gods,'  and  do  not  attempt  to  coerce  them 
by  any  magic  (194  f.). 


some  cases  the  reason  is  quite  obvious.  Thus  the 
Melanesians  have  a  bird  winch  they  call  urisi,  from 
one  of  its  cries.  This  happens  to  mean  '  No '  in 
the  local  dialect,  and  the  creature  is  thus  able  to 
answer  questions — its  other  cries  being  taken  to 
mean  '  Yes.'  But  this  is  '  not  seriously  thought  of ' 
(Codrington,  p.  221 ),  and  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases 
the  omen  is  symbolical,  frequently  needing  a  pro- 
fessional diviner  to  interpret  it.  Thus  the  Kenyahs 
of  Sarawak  have  a  method  of  divination  worthy  of 
Etruria,  by  which  high-born  augurs,  after  due 
ceremonies,  sit  in  a  leaf-shelter  and  watch  a  par- 
ticular part  of  the  sky  for  hawks,  until  the  favour 
of  Balli  Penyalong  is  shown  by  one  bird  flying 
right,  another  left,  and  a  third  circling.1  Why 
this  should  be  a  good  omen  is  by  no  means  clear  ; 
the  symbolism  of  augury  is  a  product  of  many 
generations,  and  mysterious,  probably,  even  to  the 
initiated.  A  more  profitable  question  is,  Why 
should  animals  give  omens  at  all  ? — for,  no  doubt, 
the  original  idea  is  that  the  animals  themselves 
gave  answers,  not  that  any  god  sent  them.2  Leav- 
ing the  Kenyahs  for  a  much  more  primitive  people, 
we  find  a  case  which  throws  great  light  on  the 
origin  of  the  belief.  A  certain  young  member  of 
the  Yuin  tribe  had  the  kangaroo  for  his  personal 
totem,  by  inheritance.  Whenever  this  man  saw  an 
'  old-man '  kangaroo  coming  towards  him,  he  knew 
that  he  was  being  warned  of  danger.8  The  Kenyahs 
are  not  totemic  ;  but  the  Ibans  (Sea  Dayaksj,  who 
are  of  the  same  family,  have  a  sort  of  personal 
totem,  the  ngarong,*or  'spirit-helper,'  who  generally 
takes  animal  form.  It  is  not  unlikely,  then,  that 
the  omen-animal  or  bird  was  originally  some  sort 
of  a  personal  totem,  or — since  '  totem '  is  a  word  apt 
to  be  abused — a  manitou,  which  gave  warnings  and 
advice,  as  friendly  animals  do  in  folk-tales  of  all 
countries.  Originally  only  this  one  particular 
spirit-animal  would  give  omens  ; 6  this  would  then 
be  extended  to  all  its  species ;  and,  finally,  with 
the  coming  of  more  advanced  religious  views,  they 
would  be  considered  the  messengers  of  a  god, 
perhaps  originally  a  theriomorphic  one.  We  put 
forward  this  theory  tentatively,  however,  recog- 
nizing its  difficulties,  such  as  the  existence  of 
augury  among  the  Kenyahs,  who  apparently  have 
not  even  the  ngarong,  and  its  non-existence  in 
Torres  Straits,  where  totemism  flourishes. 

It  should  be  mentioned  that  men  may  be  counted 
among  omen-animals.  We  have  already  dealt  with 
the  omens  a  man  may  draw  from  his  own  actions  ; 
but  he  may  also  do  things  significant  for  others, 
though  not  for  himself;  e.g.,  if  twins  are  born, 
this,  like  almost  all  events  a  little  out  of  the 
common,  is  held  to  be  a  good  or  a  bad  omen  by 
various  peoples ;  thus  the  Nagas  6  hold  that  the 
birth  of  twins  of  opposite  sex  is  unlucky.  Again, 
the  Masai7  believe  that  if,  on  a  journey,  one  meets 
a  solitary  wayfarer,  the  journey  will  be  fruitless. 

Finally,  in  augury,  one  cannot  divide  the  ominous 
creatures  simply  into  lucky  and  unlucky.  The 
same  bird  or  beast  may  give  opposite  omens  accord- 
to  the  place  where  it  is  heard  or  seen.  To  take  one 
example  out  of  many,  and  again  from  the  Masai,8 
the  bird  they  call  tilo  (Mesopicus  spodocephalus), 
if  heard  on  the  right,  is  good  ;  if  on  the  left,  bad. 
If  heard  behind,  on  a  journey,  it  means,  '  Go  on, 
you  will  be  hospitably  received.' 

1  Hose-McDougall,  p.  175  f. 

2  Both  ideas  persisted  in  late  beliefs  and  speculations ;  see, 
e.g.,  Stat.  Theb.  iii.  4S6-8  ('  seu  purior  axis  amotumque  nefas  et 
rarum  insistere  terris  uera  docent  [alites] ')  for  the  former. 

3Howitt,  p.  400  f. 

4  Nyarong,  in  Hose-McDougall,  p.  173  ;  but  this  is  said  to  be 
a  misprint;  Gomes,  in  Athenmura,  18th  March  1911. 

5  The  Ibans  say  that  not  all  omen-birds,  but  only  33  of  each 
kind,  are  the  messengers  of  Singalang  Burong,  the  hawk -god ; 
the  others  do  not  give  true  omens,  and  are  not,  like  the  33. 
immortal. 

6  Hodson,  p.  134.       '  Hollis,  Masai,  p.  324.      *  lb.  p  328f. 


DIVINATION  (Introductory  and  Primitive) 


779 


(b)  Haruspicy. — Not  only  living,  but  dead,  ani- 
mals can  give  omens,  though  the  latter  are  for  the 
most  part  intelligible  only  to  professional  diviners. 
Before  passing  to  a  consideration  of  these  cases,  it 
is  well  to  notice  that  a  dying  animal  is  sometimes 
consulted.  The  Nagas,  for  instance,  sometimes 
kill  a  fowl  and  watch  its  death-struggles  for  omens. 
They  also  have  a  more  economical,  though  less 
reliable,  method,  in  which  the  fowl  is  held  up  by 
the  wings.  '  Should  the  animal  cross  its  right  foot 
over  the  left,  the  omen  is  good  ;  the  opposite, 
bad.'1 

Perhaps  the  simplest  case  of  what  might  loosely 
be  called  haruspicy  is  that  given  by  Gomes.2  The 
Sea  Dayaks,  he  tells  us,  consider  it  a  very  bad 
omen  if  they  find  a  dead  animal  in  their  fields  ;  the 
crops  will  poison  the  owner  if  he  ventures  to  eat 
them,  unless  some  one  with  strong  mana  removes 
the  tabu  by  ceremonially  eating  a  little,  and  thus 
absorbing  the  evil  influence  into  his  own  powerful 
person. 

But  in  haruspicy  proper  we  have  to  deal  with  a 
not  very  primitive  type  of  religion.  The  slaughtered 
animal  is  regularly  a  sacrificial  victim  ;  the  harus- 
pex  is  generally  not  merely  a  diviner,  but  a  priest, 
where  such  a  distinction  exists  ;  and  the  entrails 
therefore  contain  the  cryptic  message,  to  be  read 
by  enlightened  eyes,  of  a  god.  The  method  of 
reading  is  a  more  or  less  complex  symbolism  ;  thus, 
to  find  the  internal  organs  in  an  unusual  position 
— heart  on  the  wrong  side,  or  the  like — means 
generally  some  disastrous  upheaval. 

Distribution :  augury  and  haruspicy  both  in 
Sarawak ;  augury  alone  in  Malay  Peninsula  and 
Melanesia ;  haruspicy  alone  among  Masai  and 
Nandi ;  both  found,  singly  or  together,  in  more  or 
less  complicated  forms,  in  nearly  all  parts  of  the 
world. 

8.  Divination  by  mechanical  means. — Of  mech- 
anical means  of  divination  there  is  no  end.  We 
may  divide  them,  very  roughly,  into  :  [a]  coscino- 
mancy,  or  devices  akin  to  the  modern  planchette, 
and  probably  worked  by  unconscious  muscular 
action  ;  (b)  sortilegium,  or  devices  involving  some 
kind  of  a  game  of  chance,  generally  of  simple  form. 

{a)  Skeat  (p.  536  f.)  reports  a  simple  case  of  cos- 
cinomancy  among  the  Malays,  which  he  himself 
saw.  A  kind  of  pendulum  is  made,  with  appro- 
priate rites — charm  and  sacrifice — by  thrusting  a 
fish-spine  through  a  lemon,  and  suspending  it  on  a 
cord  of  seven  different  coloured  strands.  Questions 
are  then  put  to  it ;  it  says  '  Yes '  by  swinging,  '  No  ' 
by  staying  still.  The  same  people  use  a  divining- 
rod,  which  vibrates  in  the  presence  of  a  thief  ;  the 
Melanesians3  use  a  similar  rod  in  cases  of  illness, 
to  discover  which  of  the  recently  dead  is  '  eating  ' 
the  patient.  The  stick  vibrates  at  the  right  name. 
To  take  another  illustration  from  Skeat  (p.  538  ff.) 
— a  thief  may  be  discovered,  after  appropriate  rites, 
by  two  people  holding  a  bowl  of  water  between 
their  fingers.  The  names  of  suspected  persons  are 
presented  to  it  in  writing,  and  at  that  of  the  guilty 
man  it  twists  around  and  falls.  In  all  these  cases, 
as  in  planchette  writing,  if  we  exclude  deliberate 
cheating,  we  are  left  with  the  supposition  that  the 
diviner  unconsciously  moves  his  divining-machine 
in  the  way  he  is  expecting,  or  perhaps  contrary  to 
his  conscious  expectation  and  even  his  conscious 
volition.4  But  the  usual,  so  far  as  we  know,  the 
universal,  explanation  given  by  the  lower  races  is 
that  the  movements  are  caused  by  some  spirit 
which,  to  borrow  the  jargon  of  modern  spiritualism, 
'  controls '  the  instrument.  It  may  well  be  thought, 
however,  considering  the  obvious  antiquity  of  this 

'  Dr.  Brown,  ap.  Hodson,  p.  132.  2  Op.  cit.  p.  166. 

8  See  Codrington,  p.  210  ff. 

4  The  writer  has  had  personal  experience  of  quite  genuine 
performances  of  this  sort  on  the  part  of  a  planchette. 


and  kindred  modes  of  divination,  that,  before  any 
definitely  animistic  belief  came  to  prevail,  the  im- 
plement, being  by  virtue  of  proper  ceremonies 
made  '  big  medicine,'  had  in  itself  the  power  to 
answer. 

(6)  Whether  or  not  Tylor1  is  right  in  seeing  in 
sortilegium  the  origin  of  all  games  of  luck,  it  is 
so  wide-spread  and  miscellaneous  that  we  can  do 
no  more  than  give  a  few  random  examples,  some 
of  which,  provisionally  accepting  Tylor's  hypo- 
thesis, we  class  under  the  main  forms  of  games  of 
chance.  (1)  Odd  and  even. — This  is  used  among 
the  Masai  and  Nandi,  whose  diviners  shake  pebbles 
out  of  a  buffalo-horn,  and  observe  whether  an  odd 
or  an  even  number  results.3  On  the  Gold  Coast  a 
similar  method  is  used,  with  nuts  for  pebbles  and 
without  the  horn.8  (2)  The  teetotum. — The  coco- 
nut, being  a  natural  teetotum,  is  much  used  in  the 
Pacific,  both  in  games  of  chance,  pure  and  simple, 
and  for  divination.  Tylor  {loc.  cit.) gives  examples 
of  both.  (3)  Dice  and  similar  implements.  — Dice,  as 
we  understand  them,  are  but  little  used  among 
savages ;  but  the  underlying  principle — something 
which,  if  thrown,  may  fall  in  any  one  of  several 
different  ways — is  common  enough.  The  most 
rudimentary  form  is  perhaps  the  mangrove-embryo 
used  by  women  in  the  Torres  Straits4  to  determine 
the  sex  of  an  unborn  child.  It  is  thrown  between 
the  legs,  backwards,  and  no  notice  is  taken  of 
which  side  it  falls  on,  but  merely  of  whether  it 
flies  straight  or  crooked — the  first  presaging  a  boy, 
and  the  second  a  girl.  The  same  people  have  a 
folk-tale,  in  which  the  hero  holds  up  his  throwing- 
stick,  '  and  it  fell  in  the  direction  of  Daudai.  "  I 
will  go  there  by-and-by ;  I  think  I  will  kill  them 
all,"  he  said.' 6  (4)  A  number  of  methods  of 
mechanical  divination  have  not,  so  far  as  we 
know,  resulted  in  actual  games.  The  most  in- 
teresting is  the  magic  drum  of  the  shaman,  the 
surface  of  which,  in  Lapland,  was  painted  with 
various  figures.  A  ring  or  bunch  of  rings  was 
placed  on  the  skin  of  the  drum,  which  was  then 
beaten  with  a  horn  hammer,  '  not  so  much  to  make 
a  Noise,  as  by  the  Drumming  to  move  the  King 
.  .  .  so  as  to  pass  over  the  Pictures  and  shew  what 
they  seek  after. ' 6  Besides  particular  signs  given  by 
the  pictures,  the  ring  gave  a  good  omen  if  it  went 
sunwise,  bad  if  it  went  withershins.  A  simpler 
omen  is  that  found  among  the  Nagas.  '  At  Mao 
and  Maram  the  issue  of  a  hunting  party  is  prog- 
nosticated by  their  success  in  kicking  small  pebbles 
on  to  the  top  of  a  monolith.'7  More  curious, 
because  harder  to  explain,  though  it  probably  is  a 
simple  conjuring  trick,  is  the  Zulu  divination  by 
sticks  or  bones.  The  sticks,  after  proper  cere- 
monies, rise  up  and  jump  about  by  way  of  saying 
'  Yes,'  lie  still  for  '  No,'  and,  if  asked  '  Where  is 
so-and-so's  ailment  ? '  strike  the  questioner  on  the 
corresponding  part  of  his  body.  And  so  on.  The 
list  might  be  extended  indefinitely,  but  the  principle 
is  always  the  same  :  '  chance '  is  the  working  of 
some  non-human  power,  who  makes  a  die  fall  a 
particular  way,  or  an  odd  and  not  an  even  number 
of  pebbles  jump  out,  or  a  particular  man  draw  a 
particular  lot,  just  as  Athene  makes  the  arrow  of 
Pandaros  miss  its  mark  (II.  iv.  127  ff. ). 

Distribution  :  in  one  form  or  another,  universal. 

9.  Divination  from  Nature.— (a)  Astrology. — 
With  the  elaborate  pseudo-science  which  grew  out 
of  the  belief  that  the  position  and  influence  of  the 
heavenly  bodies  more  or  less  mould  human  affairs, 
we  have  nothing  to  do  here  ;  it  is  a  product  of 

1  i.  78.  2  Hollis,  Masai,  p.  324,  Nandi,  p.  49. 

3  Ellis,  p.  202.  4  Camb.  Exp.  p.  196.  5  lb.  p.  74. 

6  Scheffer,  Hist,  of  Lapland,  Eng.  ed.  of  1751,  p.  29  f.  ;  cf. 
Anthropology  and  the  Classics,  ed.  Marett,  Oxford,  1909,  pp.  28, 
30.  It  is  not  inconceivable  that  the  pictures  on  playing-cards 
maj'  owe  their  origin  to  some  such  magic  figures  as  these. 

7  Hodson,  p.  133. 


780 


DIVINATION  (American) 


comparatively  advanced  civilization,  and  involves 
real  knowledge  of  pure  and  applied  mathematics, 
far  beyond  the  capacity  of  most  savage  races.  The 
rudiments,  however,  of  astrology,  together  with 
star-myths  of  varying  complexity,  are  early  and 
common.  Thus  the  Malays,  along  with  quite  a 
complicated  foreign  astrology,  with  calendars  and 
lucky  and  unlucky  days,  etc.,1  have  preserved  such 
simple  bits  of  symbolism  as  that  a  star  near  the 
moon  means  an  approaching  marriage.  Among 
the  Maoris  the  moon  represents  a  besieged  pah, 
and  the  stars  the  attacking  force — their  relative 
position  indicating  the  result  of  the  campaign. 

(6)  Other  natural  phenomena,  such  as  earth- 
quakes, lightning,  etc.,  are  everywhere  held  to 
portend  something — usually  misfortune.  But  it 
seldom  goes  beyond  '  something.'  Homer's  remark 
on  lightning,  which  indicates  Zeus  to  be  '  fashion- 
ing either  great  rain  unspeakable  or  hail  or  snow 
...  or,  somewhere,  the  great  mouth  of  bitter 
battle'  (II.  x.  5ff.),  is  a  good  summing  up  of  the 
vagueness  of  the  beliefs  usually  connected  with 
these  phenomena.  They  are  too  rare,  comparatively 
speaking,  and  also  too  noteworthy  in  themselves, 
for  a  system  of  divination  to  be  built  upon  them. 
They  frighten  rather  than  forewarn. 

Distribution :  traces  everywhere ;  so  far  as  we 
know,  except  for  civilized  peoples,  nowhere  very 
important  or  noteworthy. 

10.  Miscellaneous  divination. — Finally,  we  may 
note  one  or  two  methods  which  cannot  be  classed 
under  any  of  the  above  heads,  but  are  interesting 
in  themselves,  (a)  Clairvoyance. — This  is  not  the 
place  to  ask  whether  any  such  power  really  exists. 
It  is  enough  for  our  purposes  that,  e.g.,  the  Malays 
think  it  does,  and  some  of  them,  according  to 
Skeat,  practise  it.  (b)  In  the  Torres  Straits2  we 
get  a  good  example  of  a  not  uncommon  idea,  that 
a  small  mishap  of  any  kind  is  the  forerunner  of  a 
greater  one.  Thus  one  of  the  natives,  who  was  a 
skilled  dugong  fisher,  returned  empty-handed  one 
day  with  his  harpoon  broken.  Shortly  after,  three 
deaths  occurred,  to  his  great  comfort,  as  it  showed 
that  his  bad  luck  had  been  sent  as  an  omen  and 
was  no  fault  of  his  own.  (c)  Blood  is  '  uncanny ' 
and  ominous.  Thus  a  Sea  Dayak,3  finding  a  drop 
of  blood  on  the  floor-mats,  will  consider  that  a 
spirit  has  shed  it,  and  that  it  is  a  very  bad  omen. 
(d)  In  general,  any  occurrence  at  all  unusual  is 
ominous  ;  and  a  diviner,  or  some  skilled  person,  is 
usually  consulted. 

11.  Survivals. — The  methods  of  which  we  have 
given  examples  belong  to  the  lower  stages  of 
civilization.  With  political  and  religious  advance 
one  of  two  things  happens :  either  some  kinds  of 
divination  are  taken  into  the  State  religion  (Greece, 
Rome  ;  see  special  articles)  and  the  others  become 
insignificant  and  even  disreputable,  like  all  magic  ; 
or,  as  in  the  case  especially  of  Christianity,4  the 
dominant  faith  declares  against  them  all  as  either 
false  or  the  work  of  evil  spirits.  The  first  beginnings 
of  this  we  have  already  seen  in  a  few  instances. 
But  the  counter  process,  by  which  the  higher 
religions  degenerate  into  magic,  must  not  be 
forgotten.  Thus,  the  Jewish  and  Christian  formula 
'In  the  name  of  .  .  .'  has  been  found  in  magical 
papyri  (see  Kenyon,  Brit.  Mus.  Papyri,  i.  [1S93] 
65  f.  ;  Heitmiiller,  '  lm  Namen  Jesu,'  1903);  a 
chapter  of  the  Qur'an  is  read  as  a  charm  during 
the  Malay  ritual  of  divination  with  a  bowl  of  water, 
described  above  ;  Orphic  and  Mithraic  rituals  have 
been  used  for  purely  magical  purposes ;  the  Buddhist 
Om  mani  padme  hum  is  often  used  as  a  charm  and 
not  a  prayer.     But.  apart  from  this,  popular  belief 

1  See  Skeat,  p.  644  £E.,  for  details. 

2  Camb.  Exp.  p.  361.  3  Gomes,  op.  cit.  p.  158. 

4  Buddhism  is  also  hostile ;  among  the  Buddhist  section  of 
the  Tunguses  there  is  no  shamanism,  according  to  Radloff 
The  corrupt  Buddhism  of  Tibet  cannot  be  taken  as  typical. 


dies  hard  ;  and,  for  example,  in  modern  Europe  we 
find  all  kinds  of  beliefs  which  are  most  probably 
relics  of  pre-Christian  divination,  little,  if  at  all, 
affected  by  the  official  religion,  except  that  they 
are  often  not  definitely  felt  to  be  magico-religious. 
We  give  a  few  examples  of  both  classes. 

To  the  class  of  divination  by  mechanical  means 
we  must  add,  among  peoples  who  possess  sacred 
writings,  or  books  for  any  reason  esteemed  to 
contain  great  wisdom  (such  as  was  attributed  to 
the  works  of  Vergil  in  the  Middle  Ages),  a  form  of 
sortilegium  which  consists  in  opening  such  a  book 
at  random  and  taking  an  omen  from  the  first 
passage  met  with.  The  prestige  won  for  the  Bible 
by  the  establishment  of  Christianity  in  Europe  has 
resulted  in  the  sortes  Biblicm,  still  used,  we  believe, 
among  uneducated  people.1  Church  festivals  also 
have  affected  the  popular  beliefs  in  lucky  and  un- 
lucky days,  for  how  else  can  the  bad  reputation  of 
Friday  be  explained  ?  Astrologically  it  should  be 
lucky,  being  the  day  of  Venus,  especially  for 
marriages  and  the  like ;  yet  comparatively  few 
people  even  to-day  would  care  to  be  married  on  a 
Friday. 

As  to  survivals  pure  and  simple  of  ancient  ideas 
about  omens,  wholly  unconnected  with  Christian 
beliefs,  their  name  is  legion.  The  author  gives  a 
few  personally  known  to  him.  A  patient  in  a 
Plaistow  hospital  showed  genuine  instinct  for 
sympathetic  magic  and  divination  by  refusing  to 
fasten  on  her  wedding-ring  when  her  emaciation 
made  that  desirable,  because,  'if  you  bind  up  a 
ring  you  bind  up  poverty  with  it' ;  and  the  idea  is 
common  in  the  East  End  of  London.  Creaking 
furniture  heralds  a  death  in  many  places  in  York- 
shire ;  a  bird  flying  into  the  house  '  brings  ill-luck 
with  it,'  in  most  parts  of  England ;  a  stumble  in 
going  upstairs — this  we  cannot  explain — presages 
a  wedding.  Astrology2  and  oneiromancy  still 
flourish  ;  Tylor  mentions  an  instance  of  haruspicy 
in  Brandenburg ; 3  palmistry,  known  among  the 
Malays,  is  common  at  every  fair.  Augury  has 
perhaps  a  survival  in  the  habit  of  bowing  to 
magpies.  Cf.  Shakespeare's  mention  of  them : 
'  Augurs  and  understood  relations  have 
By  magot-pies  .... 

brought  forth 
The  secret'st  man  of  blood '  (Macbeth,  in.  iv.  124-126). 

Compare  the  custom  of  turning  over  the  money 
in  one  s  pocket  on  hearing  the  first  cuckoo.  So 
hardly  does  an  ancient  belief  yield  to  either 
science  or  common  sense. 

Literature. — On  the  subject  in  general,  see  E.  B.  Tylor, 
Primitive  Culture^,  1903,  vol.  i.  For  particular  races  the 
following  will  be  found  useful :  H.  Callaway,  Rel.  Syst.  of  the 
Amazulu,  Natal,  1870 ;  Cambridge  Anthropol.  Exp.  to  Torres 
Straits,  1901-S,  vol.  v. ;  R.  H.  Codrington,  The  Melanesians, 
Oxford,  1891 ;  A.  B.  Ellis,  Tshi-speaking  Peoples,  1887 ;  T.  C. 
Hodson,  The  Ndga  Tribes  of  Manipur,  1911 ;  A.  C.  Hollis, 
The  Masai,  1905,  also  The  Nandi,  1909 ;  C.  Hose  and  W. 
McDougall,  '  Men  and  Animals  in  Sarawak,'  JAI  xxxi.  [1901] 
173;  A.  W.  Howitt,  Native  Tribes  of  S.E.  Australia,  1904; 
W.  Radloff,  '  Das  Schamanthum  und  sein  Kultus,'  in  his 
Aus  Sibirierii,  1893,  vol.  ii.  ;  W.  H.  R.  Rivers,  The  Todas, 
1906;  W.  W.  Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  1900;  Spencer-Gillen, 
Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  1899,  and  Northern  Tribes  of 
Central  Australia,  1904 ;  J.  Spieth,  Die  Ewe-Stdmme,  1906. 

H.  J.  Rose. 
DIVINATION  (American).— Throughout  the 
two  continents  of  America  divination  and  prophetic 
utterance  were  and  are  generally  practised  by  the 
priestly  class  (shamans  and  medicine-men)  of  the 
various  nations  and  tribes  which  have  inhabited 
them.  The  methods  of  divination  in  use  did  not 
vary   much   so   far  as   the  different  divisions  of 

1  Tennyson's  Enoch  Arden  gives  a  well-known  example. 

2  Among  us,  as  among  the  Malays,  in  two  forms  ;  (1)  borrowed 
from  the  mediaeval  systems  (Zadkiel,  etc.) ;  (2)  popular,  as  in 
the  belief,  held  by  nearly  every  one  except  those  who  know 
anything  of  meteorology,  that  the  weather  depends  on  the 
moon. 

3  Compare  divining  from  a  sheep's  shoulder-blade,  well  known 
from  the  references  in  Drayton  and  other  writers.  See  Tylor 
passim. 


DIVINATION  (American) 


781 


American  nationality  were  concerned,  nor  did  they 
display  much  dissimilarity  from  those  in  vogue 
among  other  barbarian  peoples.  In  ancient  or  pre- 
Columban  Mexico  and  Peru  there  was  a  college  of 
augurs,  corresponding  in  purpose  to  the  auspices 
of  ancient  Rome,  the  alumni  of  which  occupied 
themselves  with  observing  the  flight  and  listening 
to  the  songs  of  birds,  from  which  they  drew  their 
conclusions,  pretending  to  interpret  the  speech 
of  all  winged  creatures.  In  Mexico  the  calmecac, 
or  training-college  of  the  priests,  had  a  department 
where  divination  was  taught  in  all  its  phases,  and 
that  the  occupation  was  no  mere  sinecure  will 
appear  later.  Among  the  less  advanced  com- 
munities the  services  of  the  diviner  or  seer  were 
much  in  request,  and  the  forecasting  of  the  future 
became,  sooner  or  later,  the  chief  concern  of  the 
higher  classes  of  medicine-men. 

The  methods  adopted  by  the  priests  or  shamans 
in  the  practice  of  divination  scarcely  differed  with 
locality,  but  many  various  expedients  were  made 
use  of  to  attain  the  same  end.  In  the  Peru  of  the 
Incas,  besides  those  augurs  who  were  supposed  to 
interpret  the  songs  of  the  feathered  race,  there  were 
other  castes  who  specialized  in  the  various  kinds 
of  divination.  Thus,  some  practised  oracular 
methods  in  much  the  same  way  as  did  the  priest- 
hood in  ancient  Egypt  and  Greece.  The  idols 
became  the  direct  mediums  by  which  Divine 
wishes  were  disclosed  or  the  future  made  clear. 
Necromancy  was  also  extensively  practised,  the 
priests  pretending  to  raise  the  dead,  whose  in- 
structions they  communicated  to  those  who  had 
consulted  them.  In  the  Mexico  of  the  Aztecs, 
also,  necromancy  was  in  vogue,  and  the  raising  of 
the  spirit  of  the  Princess  Papantzin,  sister  of  the 
ill-fated  Montezuma,  who  foretold  the  downfall  of 
his  empire  and  his  own  destruction,  will  be  familiar 
to  every  reader  of  Prescott.  To  return  to  Peru, 
still  other  classes  predicted  by  means  of  leaves  of 
tobacco,  or  the  grains  or  juice  of  coca,  the  shapes 
of  grains  of  maize,  taken  at  random,  the  appear- 
ance of  animal  excrement,  the  forms  assumed  by 
the  smoke  rising  from  burning  victim?,  the  entrails 
and  viscera  of  animals,  the  course  taken  by  spiders, 
visions  seen  in  dreams,  the  flight  of  birds,  and  the 
direction  in  which  fruits  might  fall.  The  professors 
of  these  several  methods  were  distinguished  by 
different  ranks  and  titles,  and  their  training  was 
a  long  and  arduous  one,  and  undertaken  in  no 
mere  spirit  of  flippancy.  If  their  clients  were 
deceived,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  they  themselves 
were  as  unconscious  of  deceit  as  is  a  modern 
physician  who  has  wrongly  diagnosed  a  case. 

In  considering  the  practice  of  divination  and 
prophecy  among  the  aboriginal  peoples  of  America, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  deal  separately  with  each  of 
the  principal  methods  by  means  of  which  they  are 
performed.  These  are  (1)  by  observing  the  flight 
of  birds  ;  (2)  by  oracular  and  necromantic  practices  ; 
(3)  by  means  of  hypnotism  ;  (4)  through  the  inter- 
pretation of  dreams  and  visions,  and  by  conditions 
of  ecstasy  produced  by  drugs ;  (5)  by  means  of 
astrological  practice ;  and  (6)  by  the  appearance  of 
various  objects. 

I.  By  observing  the  flight  of  birds.  —It  has  al- 
ready been  noticed  that  the  Mexican  and  Peruvian 
priesthoods,  or  that  class  of  them  devoted  to 
augury,  made  a  practice  of  observing  the  flight  of 
various  birds  and  of  listening  to  their  songs.  This 
observation  of  birds  for  the  purpose  of  augury  was 
common  to  other  American  tribes.  The  bird,  with 
its  rapid  motion  and  incomprehensible  power  of 
flight,  appeared  to  the  savage  as  a  being  of  a  higher 
order  than  himself,  and  its  song — the  only  hint  of 
music  with  which  he  was  familiar — as  something 
bordering  upon  the  supernatural,  the  ability  to 
understand  which  he  had  once  possessed,  but  had 


lost  through  the  potency  of  some  evil  and  unknown 
spell.  Some  great  sorcerer  or  medicine-man  alone 
might  break  this  spell,  and  this  the  shamans  of  the 
tribe  sought  assiduously  to  achieve,  by  means  of 
close  attention  to  the  habits  of  birds,  their  motions 
and  flights,  and  especially  to  their  song.  'The 
natives  of  Brazil  regarded  one  bird  in  especial  as 
of  good  augury,'  says  an  early  18th  cent,  traveller, 
Coreal  {Voiages  aux  Indes  occidentales,  p.  203). 
He  does  not  state  to  what  bird  he  alludes,  but 
proceeds  to  say  that  its  mournful  chant  is  heard 
by  night  rather  than  by  day.  The  savages  say  it 
is  sent  by  their  deceased  friends  to  bring  them 
news  from  the  other  world,  and  to  encourage  them 
against  their  enemies.  Here,  it  would  seem,  we 
have  an  example  of  bird-augury  combined  with 
divination  by  necromancy.  Coreal  probably 
alluded  to  the  goat-sucker  bird,  which,  with  the 
screaming  vulture,  some  South  American  tribes — 
the  Guaycurus  of  Paraguay,  for  example — suppose 
to  act  as  messengers  from  the  dead  to  their  priests, 
between  whom  and  the  deceased  persons  of  the 
tribe  there  is  thought  to  be  frequent  communica- 
tion. 

A  typical  example  of  augury  by  bird-habit  has  come  down 
to  us  in  the  account  of  the  manner  in  which  the  Nahua  of 
Mexico  fixed  upon  the  spot  for  the  foundation  of  that  city. 
Halting  after  years  of  travel  at  the  Lake  of  Tezcuco,  they 
observed  perched  on  the  stem  of  a  cactus  a  great  eagle  with 
wings  outspread,  holding  in  its  talons  a  writhing  serpent. 
Their  augurs  interpreted  this  as  a  good  omen,  as  it  had  been 
previously  announced  by  an  oracle  ;  and  on  the  spot  drove  the 
first  piles  upon  which  was  afterwards  built  the  city  of  Mexico- 
Tenochtitlan.  The  legend  of  its  foundation  is  still  commemorated 
in  the  arms  of  the  modern  Republic  of  Mexico,  and  on  its  coin- 
age and  postal  stamps. 

2.  Oracular  and  necromantic  methods. — We 
have  already  seen  that  the  priesthood  of  Peru 
practised  oracular  methods  of  divination  by  '  making 
the  idols  speak.'  Whether  they  accomplished  this 
by  ventriloquial  arts  or  by  the  more  primitive 
means  of  concealing  one  of  their  number,  we  do  not 
know.  But  we  know  that  the  piagis,  or  priests  of 
the  Uapes  tribe  of  Brazil,  practise  oracular  divina- 
tion by  means  of  a  contrivance  known  to  them  as 
the  paxiuba.  This  is  one  of  their  most  sacred 
symbols,  and  consists  of  a  portion  of  a  palm-tree 
about  the  height  of  a  man,  and  some  10  cm.  in 
diameter.  By  a  device  consisting  of  holes  bored 
in  the  part  of  the  tree  beneath  the  foliage,  its 
leaves  are  made  to  tremble  by  the  breath  of  the 
priestly  ministrant,  and  the  sound  so  caused  is 
interpreted  as  a  message  from  Jurupari,  their 
principal  deity.  Necromancy  is  also  practised 
extensively  by  the  Uapes  Indians,  a  class  of  piagis 
being  set  apart  for  this  purpose  solely.  Indeed,  in 
most  Indian  tribes  the  shamans  or  medicine-men, 
or  a  portion  of  them,  specialize  in  the  art.  A  great 
similarity  marks  the  methods  of  procedure  of  most 
American  tribes,  from  the  Eskimos  to  the  Nahua. 
A  circular  lodge  consisting  of  poles  planted  firmly 
in  the  ground  is  covered  with  skins  or  mats,  a  small 
hole  only  being  left  for  the  seer  to  make  his 
entrance.  After  entering,  he  carefully  closes  the 
aperture,  and  proceeds  to  make  his  incantations. 
In  a  little  while  the  entire  lodge  trembles  and 
sways,  the  poles  bend  to  breaking  point,  as  if  ten 
strong  men  were  straining  at  them,  and  sounds, 
strange  and  supernatural,  coming  now  from  the 
depths  of  the  earth,  now  from  the  air  above,  cause 
those  who  listen  outside  to  tremble.  At  last  the 
medicine-man  cries  out  that  the  spirit  he  has 
invoked  is  present,  and  will  reply  to  questions. 
Presents  to  the  supernatural  visitor  are  inserted 
beneath  the  skins,  as  a  preliminary  to  consultation  ; 
and  the  spectators  commence  to  interrogate  the 
dread  presence  in  fear  and  trembling.  The  replies 
received  are,  for  sheer  ambiguity,  equal  to  the 
oracular  answers  of  the  pythonesses  of  ancient 
Greece.       Converted     Indians     have     repeatedly 


782 


DIVINATION  (American) 


averred  that  in  performing  this  feat  they  were 
merely  passive  agents.  But,  as  many  of  these 
barbarous  seers  excite  themselves  into  a  condition 
of  permanent  lunacy  when  under  the  influence, 
there  is  very  little  doubt  that  they  are  as  much 
the  victims  of  hallucination  as  are  their  hearers, 
although  the  taking  of  gifts  and  the  occasional 
shrewd  nature  of  their  replies  would  seem  to  point 
to  the  possession  of  considerable  powers  of  calcula- 
tion. 

3.  Hypnotic  divination.— Divination  by  hypnosis 
is  no  new  art  in  America.  Jonathan  Carver,  a 
British  sea-captain  who  travelled  among  the  Sioux 
in  the  latter  end  of  the  18th  cent.,  mentions  it  as 
in  use  among  them  ;  and  J.  E.  Fletcher  observed  it 
among  the  Menominee  about  the  middle  of  last 
century.  In  the  '  Ghost  Dance '  of  the  Paviotso  of 
Nevada  (a  ceremonial  religious  dance  connected 
with  the  Messiah  doctrine,  which  originated  among 
that  people  about  1888  and  spread  rapidly  among 
other  tribes,  through  the  agency  of  the  pretended 
prophet,  one  Wovoka,  a  medicine-man  who  had 
lived  among  whites),  hypnotic  trances  were  fre- 
quently induced  to  enable  the  Indians  to  converse 
with  their  dead  relatives,  who  were,  it  was  said,  to 
return  to  them,  and  sweep  the  earth  clear  of  the 
whites  in  a  great  Armageddon.  The  movement 
was  defeated,  but  survives  to  some  extent  in  the 
'  Crow  Dance '  of  the  Cheyenne  and  Arapaho,  in 
which  prophecy  by  hypnotism  is  still  practised. 

4.  Dreams  and  visions. — The  business  of  divina- 
tion by  means  of  dreams  and  visions,  it  is  hardly 
necessary  to  say,  was  almost  completely  in  the 
hands  of  the  priestly  class  in  America,  as  is  ex- 
emplified by  the  derivation  of  '  priest '  in  the  native 
languages.  By  the  Algonquians  and  Dakotas  they 
were  called  wakanwacipi,  'dreamers  of  the  gods'; 
in  Mexico,  teopixqui  or  teotecuhtli,  'masters  or 
guardians  of  divine  things' ;  in  Cherokee,  atsilung 
kelawhi,  '  those  having  the  Divine  fire ' ;  in  Maya, 
cocome,  'the  listeners,'  etc.  Nearly  all  messages 
supposed  to  be  received  from  the  supernatural  came 
through  the  medium  of  dreams  or  visions,  and 
those  who  possessed  ability  to  read  or  interpret  the 
dream  were  usually  placed  in  a  class  by  themselves. 
The  medicine-men  or  shamans  held  it  as  an  article 
of  belief  that  the  glimpse  into  futurity  with  which 
visions  or  dreams  provided  them  was  to  be  gained 
only  by  extreme  privation  and  by  purifying  the 
vision  through  hunger  or  the  use  of  drugs.  To 
induce  the  ecstatic  condition  the  Indians  made  use 
of  many  different  mediums,  such  as  want  of  sleep, 
seclusion,  the  pertinacious  fixing  of  the  mind  upon 
one  subject,  the  swallowing  or  inhalation  of 
cerebral  intoxicants,  such  as  tobacco,  the  maguey, 
coca,  the  chucuaco,  the  snake-plant  ololiuhqui,  the 
peyotl  (these  last  two  in  Mexico),  and  the  cassine 
yupon,  and  Iris  versicolor  (among  the  tribes  in  the 
southern  parts  of  the  United  States).  According 
to  Hawkins,  the  Creeks  had  no  fewer  than  seven 
sacred  plants  cultivated  for  this  purpose,  among 
them  the  Hex  vomitoria  or  Rex  eassina  of  the 
natural  order  Aquifoliacem ;  and  the  '  blue  flag,' 
Iris  versicolor,  of  the  order  Iridaceoe.  '  The  former 
is  a  powerful  diuretic  and  mild  emetic,  and  grows 
only  near  the  sea.  The  latter  is  an  active  emeto- 
cathartic,  and  is  abundant  on  swampy  grounds 
throughout  the  Southern  States.  From  it  was 
formed  the  celebrated  "black  drink"  with  which 
they  opened  their  councils,  and  which  served  them 
in  place  of  spirits '  (Brinton,  Myths  of  the  New 
World,  Philadelphia,  1905,  p.  315,  note). 

From  dreams  during  the  puberty-fast  a  person's 
entire  future  was  usually  divined  by  the  shamans, 
his  spiritual  affinities 'fixed,  and  his  life's  course 
mapped  out  (see  art.  CALENDAR  [American],  vol. 
iii.  p.  68b).  The  elaborate  ceremonies  known  as 
'dances'  were  usually  adumbrated  to  the  priests 


through  dreams,  and  the  actual  performance  was 
made  to  follow  carefully  in  detail  the  directions 
supposed  to  have  been  received  in  the  dream  or 
vision.  Many  shrines  and  sacred  places  were  also 
supposed  to  have  been  indicated  to  certain  persons 
in  dreams,  and  their  contents  presented  to  those 
persons  by  supernatural  beings  whilst  they  were  in 
the  visionary  state.  The  periods  for  the  perform- 
ance of  rites  connected  with  a  shrine,  as  well  as 
other  devotional  observances,  often  depended  on 
an  intimation  received  in  a  dream.  'Visions'  were 
also  induced  by  winding  the  skin  of  a  freshly- 
killed  animal  round  the  neck  until  the  pressure 
on  the  veins  caused  unconsciousness,  and  dreams 
resulted,  possibly  from  an  overflow  of  blood  to  the 
head.  Some  tribes  believed  that  the  vision  came 
to  the  prophet  or  seer  as  a  picture,  or  that  acts 
were  performed  before  him  as  in  a  play,  whilst 
others  held  that  the  soul  travelled  through  space, 
and  was  able  to  see  from  afar  those  places  and 
events  of  which  it  desired  to  have  knowledge. 

Numerous  instances  of  the  truly  marvellous 
manner  in  which  events  have  been  foretold  by 
American  medicine-men  are  on  record,  and  it  is 
hard  to  believe  that  they  do  not  possess  the  gift  of 
clairvoyance  in  some  degree. 

In  his  autobiography,  Black  Hawk,  a  celebrated  Sac  chief, 
relates  that  his  grandfather  had  a  strong  belief  that  in  four 
years'  time  '  he  should  see  a  white  man,  who  would  be  to  him 
as  a  father.'  Supematurally  directed,  as  he  said,  he  travelled 
eastward  to  a  certain  spot,  and  there,  as  he  had  been  informed 
in  dreams,  met  with  a  Frenchman,  who  concluded  an  alliance 
on  behalf  of  his  country  with  the  Sac  nation.  Coincidence  is 
certainly  possible  here,  but  it  can  hardly  exist  in  the  circum- 
stances of  the  narrative  of  Jonathan  Carver.  While  he  was 
dwelling  with  the  Killistenoes  {i.e.  Cree),  they  were  threatened 
with  a  famine,  and  on  the  arrival  of  certain  traders,  who  brought 
them  food  in  exchange  for  skins  and  other  goods,  their  very  exist- 
ence depended.  The  diviners  of  the  tribe  were  consequently 
consulted  by  the  chief,  and  announced  that  the  next  day,  at 
high  noon  exactly,  a  canoe  would  make  its  appearance  with 
news  of  the  anxiously  looked-for  expedition.  The  entire 
population  came  down  to  the  beach  in  order  to  witness  its 
arrival,  accompanied  by  the  incredulous  trader,  and,  to  his 
intense  surprise,  at  the  very  moment  forecast  by  the  shamans, 
a  canoe  rounded  a  distant  headland,  and,  paddling  speedily 
shorewards,  brought  the  patient  Killistenoes  news  of  the 
expedition  they  expected. 

John  Mason  Brown  has  put  on  record  an  equally  singular 
instance  of  the  prophetic  gift  on  the  part  of  an  American 
medicine-man  (see  Atlantic  Monthly,  July  1866).  He  was 
engaged  several  years  previously  in  searching  for  a  band  of 
Indians  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Mackenzie  and  Coppermine 
rivers  ;  but  the  difficulties  of  the  search  induced  the  majority 
of  his  band  to  return,  until  out  of  ten  men  who  had  originally 
set  out  only  three  remained.  They  had  all  but  concluded  to 
abandon  their  search,  when  they  stumbled  upon  a  party  of 
braves  of  the  verj'  tribe  of  which  they  were  in  search.  These 
men  had  been  sent  out  by  their  medicine-men  to  find  three 
whites,  of  whose  horses,  accoutrements,  and  general  appearance 
the  shaman  had  given  them  an  exhaustive  account  ere  they  set 
out,  and  this  the  warriors  related  to  Brown  before  they  saw  his 
companions.  Brown  very  naturally  inquired  closely  of  the 
medicine-man  how  he  had  been  able  to  foretell  their  coming. 
But  the  latter,  who  appeared  to  be  '  a  frank  and  simple-minded 
man,'  could  only  explain  that  '  he  saw  them  coming,  and  heard 
them  talk  on  their  journey.' 

Under  the  heading  of  '  dreams  and  visions '  may 
also  be  noticed  the  practice,  common  in  some  parts 
of  the  American  continent,  of  attempting  to  pry 
into  the  future  through  gazing  fixedly  at  some 
polished  object,  until  semi-insensibility  is  attained 
by  self-hypnosis.  The  Indians  of  Central  America 
employed  for  this  purpose  (and  still  make  use  of) 
small  shining  stones  made  of  hard  polished  sand- 
stone, which  they  at  times  consult  when  dubious 
as  to  the  future. 

A  case  is  on  record  where  a  Cherokee  kept  a  divining  crystal 
wrapped  up  in  buckskin  in  a  cave,  occasionally  '  feeding'  it  by 
rubbing  over  it  the  blood  of  a  deer ;  and  similar  instances 
might  be  multiplied.  At  the  village  of  Tecpan,  Guatemala, 
Stephens  and  Catherwood  saw  a  remarkable  stone  which  had 
been  placed  on  the  altar  of  the  church  there,  but  which  had 
previously  been  used  as  a  divining  stone  by  the  Indians  of  the 
district.  Fuentes,  one  of  the  Spanish  historians  of  Guatemala, 
saj's  of  it :  '  To  the  westward  of  the  city  there  is  a  little  mount 
that  commands  it,  on  which  stands  a  small  round  building 
about  six  feet  in  height,  in  the  middle  of  which  there  is  a 
pedestal  formed  of  a  shining  substance  resembling  glass,  but 
the  precise  quality  of  which  has  not  been  ascertained.     Seated 


DIVINATION  (Assyro-Babylonian) 


783 


around  this  building,  the  judges  heard  and  decided  the  causes 
brought  before  them,  and  their  sentences  were  executed  on  the 
spot.  Previous  to  executing  them,  however,  it  was  necessary 
to  have  them  confirmed  by  the  oracle,  for  which  purpose  three 
of  the  fudges  left  their  seats  and  proceeded  to  a  deep  ravine, 
where  there  was  a  place  of  worship  containing  a  black,  trans- 
parent stone,  on  the  surface  of  which  the  Deity  was  supposed 
to  indicate  the  fate  of  the  criminal '  (Stephens,  Incidents  of 
Travel,  ii.  149).  Stephens  found  this  'stone'  to  be  a  piece  of 
common  slate,  fourteen  inches  by  ten.  For  purposes  of  divina- 
tion it  would  probably  have  been  covered  with  water. 

5.  Divination  by  astrological  practice. — Divina- 
tion by  astrology  was,  of  course,  resorted  to  only  in 
that  part  of  America  where  the  knowledge  of  the 
movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies  had  advanced 
beyond  the  elementary  stage.  Among  the  Aztecs 
the  planetary  influences  were  less  powerful  than 
the  arbitrary  signs  they  had  adopted  for  the  months 
and  days.  The  nature  of  the  principal  sign  in  each 
lunar  cycle  of  thirteen  days  gave  a  colour  to  the 
whole.  The  figures  relating  to  succeeding  days 
and  hours  modified  this,  however,  and  it  was  in 
coalescing  these  opposing  forces  that  the  art  of  the 
Aztec  diviner  lay.  No  event  in  life,  of  any  con- 
sequence, was  permitted  to  pass  without  consulting 
him.  On  the  birth  of  a  child  he  was  summoned  in 
haste.  He  ascertained  the  exact  time  of  the  event 
with  exceeding  care,  and  then  proceeded  to  cast 
the  infant's  horoscope,  the  family  standing  by  in 
trembling  suspense  the  while. 

6.  Divination  by  means  of  various  objects  or 

Eractices. — Various  other  methods  were  in  vogue 
y  means  of  which  the  native  priesthood  attempted 
to  forecast  the  future.  For  this  purpose  fetishes 
and  small  personal  idols  were  often  consulted. 
The  grains  of  cocoa  in  the  bottom  of  a  drained 
vessel  were  '  read,'  as  the  remaining  leaves  still 
are  in  many  European  tea-cups.  The  viscera  of 
sacrificed  animals  were  carefully  examined  for 
signs  regarding  the  future.  The  course  and  shape 
of  smoke,  too,  was  keenly  watched  by  the  shamans 
of  many  peoples. 

According  to  Fuente3,  the  chronicler  of  Guatemala  (Stephens, 
op.  tit.  ii.  127),  the  reigning  king  of  Kiche,  Kicah  Tanub,  when 
informed  by  the  ambassador  of  Montezuma  II,  that  a  race  of 
irresistible  white  men  had  conquered  Mexico  and  were  proceed- 
ing to  Guatemala,  sent  for  four  diviners,  whom  he  commanded 
to  tell  him  what  would  be  the  result  of  this  invasion.  They 
asked  for  time  to  discover  the  future  fate  of  his  kingdom,  and, 
taking  their  bows,  discharged  some  arrows  against  a  rock.  They 
returned  to  inform  their  master  that,  as  no  impression  had  been 
made  upon  the  rock  by  the  arrowheads,  they  must  prognosticate 
the  worst,  and  predicted  the  ultimate  triumph  of  the  white 
man — a  circumstance  which  Bhows  that  the  class  to  which  they 
belonged  stood  in  no  fear  of  royalty.  Kicah  Tanub,  dissatisfied, 
sent  for  the  priests,  obviously  a  different  class  from  the  diviners, 
and  requested  their  opinions.  From  the  ominous  circumstance 
of  an  ancient  stone — which  had  been  brought  from  afar  by  their 
forefathers — having  been  broken,  they  also  augured  the  fall  of 
the  Kiche  empire. 

Many  objects,  such  as  small  clay  birds,  boats,  or 
boat-shaped  vessels,  etc.,  have  been  discovered  in 
sepulchral  mounds  in  North  America,  and  it  is 
conjectured  that  these  may  have  been  used  for 
purposes  of  divination.  As  any  object  might 
become  a  fetish,  it  is  probable  that  any  object 
might  become  a  means  of  augury.  The  method 
employed  appears  to  have  been  so  to  treat  the 
object  that  the  probable  chances  for  or  against  the 
happening  of  a  certain  event  would  be  discovered 
— much,  indeed,  as  some  persons  still  toss  coins  to 
'  find  out '  whether  an  expected  event  will  come  to 
pass  or  not.  Portents,  too,  were  implicitly  believed 
in  by  the  American  races,  and  this  branch  of 
augury  was,  we  find,  one  of  the  accomplishments 
of  Nezahualpilli,  king  of  Tezcuco,  near  Mexico, 
whom  Montezuma  consulted  concerning  the 
terrible  prodigies  which  startled  his  people  prior 
10  the  advance  of  the  Spaniards  upon  his  king- 
dom, and  which  were  supposed  to  predict  the 
return  of  Quetzaicoatl,  the  legendary  culture-hero 
of  Anahuac,  to  his  own  again.  These  included 
earthquakes,  tempests,  floods,  the  appearances  of 
comets  and  strange  lights,  whilst  mysterious  voices 


were  heard  in  the  air — such  prodigies,  indeed,  as 
tradition  usually  insists  upon  as  the  precursors  of 
the  downfall  of  a  mighty  empire. 

Literature.— M.  C.  Balboa,  Hist,  du  Pirou,  Paris,  1840; 
D.  G.  Brinton,  Myths  of  the  Sew  World,  Philadelphia,  1906, 
and  Nagualism,  Philadelphia,  1894  ;  F.  Coreal,  Voiages  aux 
Indes  occidentales,  pt.  ii.,  Amsterdam,  1722 ;  H.  A.  Coudreau, 
La  France  iquirmxiale,  vol.  i.  ('  Etudes  sur  les  Guyane  et 
T Amazonie '),  Paris,  1887 ;  A.  C.  Fletcher,  22  RBBW,  pt.  ii., 
1904;  A.  L.  Kroeber,  Amer.  Anthrop.  iv.  no.  2  (1902);  J. 
Mooney,  U  RBBW,  1896;  B.  Sahagun,  Hist.  gen.  de  las 
cosas  de  Nueva  Espafia,  lib.  iv.,  lib.  xiii.  cap.  1,  Mexico,  1829- 
30 ;  H.  R.  Schoolcraft,  History,  Condition,  and  Prospects  of 
the  Indian  Tribes  of  the  United  Stales,  Washington,  1851-59 ; 
J.  L.  Stephens,  Incidents  of  Travel  in  Central  America, 
London,  ed.  1854.  LEWIS  SPENCE. 

DIVINATION  (Assyro  -  Babylonian).  —  The 
practice  of  divination  entered  very  largely  into  the 
religious  life  of  the  Babylonians  and  Assyrians. 
Not  only  was  it  carried  on  by  unofficial  augurs 
and  seers,  whose  services  could  be  secured  for  a 
comparatively  small  fee  by  any  one  desirous  of 
reading  the  future  or  of  learning  the  interpreta- 
tion of  some  portent  which  had  been  vouchsafed 
to  him,  but  it  also  formed  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant departments  of  the  national  religion  ;  and 
its  rites  were  jealously  guarded  by  a  large  and 
organized  body  of  the  priesthood.  In  fact,  during 
the  later  periods  of  Assyr.  and  Bab.  history  it  had 
become  a  highly  complicated  science.  Every  great 
temple  had  in  course  of  time  accumulated  a  store 
of  recorded  portents,  with  notes  as  to  the  events 
which  had  been  observed  to  follow  on  them.  As 
a  result  of  their  classification  and  study  by  the 
priesthood,  there  had  been  evolved  an  elaborate 
omen  literature,  comprising  long  series  of  tablets 
dealing  with  every  class  of  augural  phenomena. 
Thanks  to  the  literary  zeal  of  Ashurbanipal 
(668-626  B.C.),  we  possess  a  wealth  of  material 
for  the  detailed  study  of  Bab.  divination,  since  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  literary  and  religious 
texts  of  which  he  had  copies  made  for  his  library 
at  Nineveh  were  works  on  divination  in  its 
various  forms.  It  is  true  that  many  of  these 
have  been  recovered  in  a  far  from  complete  con- 
dition, but  enough  remains  to  indicate  the  important 
part  which  the  prediction  of  future  events  played 
in  both  the  official  and  the  popular  religion. 

That  the  contents  of  these  comparatively  late 
texts  may  not  only  be  regarded  as  representing 
contemporary  beliefs,  but  may  also  be  employed 
to  illustrate  the  practice  of  earlier  periods,  has 
been  amply  demonstrated.  The  texts  themselves 
in  their  present  form  are  obviously  the  result  of  a 
gradual  process  of  growth  and  accretion,  and  the 
series  under  which  they  have  been  arranged  bear 
evidence  of  much  earlier  editing  and  redaction. 
Moreover,  we  possess  a  few  similar  texts  dating 
from  earlier  periods ;  while  the  historical  and 
votive  inscriptions  furnish  data  by  means  of  which 
it  is  possible  to  trace  some  of  the  principal  forms  of 
Bab.  divination  back  into  the  earlier  period  of 
Sumerian  history.  That  the  Semitic  Babylonians 
expanded  and  developed  thescience  was  but  natural; 
but  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  they  inherited 
many  of  their  augural  beliefs  and  practices  from 
the  earlier  Sumerian  inhabitants  of  Babylonia, 
whom  they  eventually  conquered  and  absorbed. 
Thus  already  in  the  reign  of  Urukagina,  king  of 
Lagash  (c.  2800  B.C.),  we  have  evidence  of  the 
wide-spread  practice  of  divination  by  oil.  From 
augural  texts  of  a  later  period  (c.  2000  B.C.),  we 
know  that  in  this  particular  form  of  divination 
the  procedure  consisted  in  pouring  out  oil  upon 
the  surface  of  water,  the  different  forms  taken  by 
the  oil  on  striking  the  water  indicating  the  course 
which  events  would  take.1    A  professional  diviner 

1  See  Cuneiform  Texts  in  the  Brit.  Mus.  iii.  pi.  2ff.,  v.  pi. 
4  ff. ;  and  cf.  Hunger, '  Becherwahrsagung  bei  den  Babyloniern, 
in  Leipzig.  Semit.  Stud.  i.  [19031 1. 


784 


DIVINATION  (Assyro-Babylonian) 


was  naturally  required  to  carry  out  the  accompany- 
ing ritual  and  to  interpret  correctly  the  message 
of  the  oil,  and  Urukagina  records  that  among  the 
reforms  he  inaugurated  was  the  abolition  of  certain 
exactions  and  fees  which  had  been  demanded  in 
connexion  with  the  practice,  not  only  by  the 
diviner  himself,  but  also  by  the  grand  vizier  and 
the  patesi.1  In  the  later  Sumerian  period  we  find 
that  Gudea,  when  purifying  Lagash  before  the 
erection  of  his  temple,  drove  out  the  wizards  and 
sorcerers,  in  addition  to  kindling  a  fire  of  aromatic 
woods.  From  this  record  it  might  perhaps  be 
inferred  that  at  this  period  divination  was  not 
officially  recognized,  were  it  not  that  Gudea  him- 
self expressly  states  that  before  starting  upon  his 
temple-building  he  consulted  the  omens  and  found 
them  favourable.2  Moreover,  the  elaborate  vision 
in  which  the  gods  revealed  their  wishes  to  him 
with  regard  to  Ningirsu's  temple,  and  the  far 
earlier  vision  of  Eannatum  (e.  3000  B.C.),  in  which 
Ningirsu  encouraged  him  for  battle,8  prove  that 
the  study  of  dreams  and  their  interpretation  had 
been  elaborated  by  the  Sumerians.  It  is,  there- 
fore, possible  to  regard  the  later  augural  texts  as 
incorporating  earlier  practices ;  and  deductions 
drawn  from  their  study  may  legitimately  be  re- 
garded as  of  general  application,  and  not  as  confined 
to  a  single  late  period. 

In  attempting  to  classify  the  great  range  of 
phenomena  which  formed  the  subject  of  Bab. 
divination,  a  convenient  distinction  may  perhaps 
be  adopted  which  has  been  drawn  between  volun- 
tary and  involuntary  divination.4  Under  the 
former  the  diviner  deliberately  sought  out  some 
means  of  foretelling  the  future ;  under  the  latter 
he  merely  interpreted  the  meaning  of  portents, 
signs,  or  phenomena  which,  without  being  sought 
out,  forced  themselves  on  his  notice  or  on  that  of 
his  clients. 

The  principal  method  of  voluntary  divination 
was  hepatoscopy,  or  divination  by  the  liver  of  a 
sacrificial  sheep.  The  diviner,  termed  the  bard, 
or  'seer,'5  after  the  due  performance  of  the  ac- 
companying rites  and  the  slaughter  of  the  victim, 
exposed  the  animal's  liver,  and  by  an  examination 
of  its  principal  parts  was  enabled  to  predict  the 
future.  The  chief  parts  of  the  liver  which  were 
examined  in  this  way  were  the  right  and  left 
lower  lobes,  the  upper  lobe  and  its  two  appendices 
(the  processus  pyramidalis  and  the  processus 
papillaris),  the  gall-bladder,  the  cystic  duct,  the 
hepatic  duct,  the  hepatic  vein,  and  the  '  liver  gate ' 
(porta  hepatis).e  The  system  of  interpretation  was 
based  mainly  on  an  association  of  ideas.  Thus  a 
swollen  gall-bladder  was  regarded  as  pointing  to 
an  increase  of  power ;  on  the  other  hand,  a  de- 
pression in  the  liver  gate  pointed  to  a  decrease  in 
power  ;  signs  noted  on  the  right  side  were  favour- 
able, on  the  left  side  unfavourable,  etc.  Moreover, 
the  markings  on  the  livers,  due  to  the  subsidiary 
veins  and  ducts,  were  carefully  studied  and  inter- 
preted in  accordance  with  their  resemblance  to  the 
weapons  or  symbols  of  the  gods.  In  the  tablets  of 
liver-omens,  the  predictions,  as  is  usual  throughout 
the  omen-literature,  are  vague  enough.  But  these 
vague  indications  were  made   to  apply  to  very 

1  See  King,  Hist,  of  Sumer  and  Akkad,  London,  1910,  p.  183. 

2  lb.  p.  266  f.  3  lb,  pp.  124,  266. 

4  Cf.  Jastrow,  Proc.  Amer.  Phil.  Soe.  xlvii.  [1908]  143  f., 
646  ff.  This  distinction  applies  most  satisfactorily  to  the  two 
principal  forms  of  official  divination — hepatoscopy  and  astrology. 
It  is  not  so  clear  when  applied  to  some  of  the  minor  forms  of 
divination  (see  below). 
_  5  For  a  discussion  of  the  barn  and  his  functions,  in  contradis- 
tinction to  the  asipu  and  zammeru  priests,  see  especially 
Zimmern,  Ritualtafeln  filr  den  Wahrsager,  Beschworer  und 
Sanger,  Leipzig.  1896-1901,' p.  82  8. 

«  See  Jastrow,  ZA  xx.  [1907]  118  f.,  Trans.  Philad.  College  of 
Physicians,  xxix.  (3rd  ser.)  1173.,  Harper  Memor.  Vol.,  ii. 
JLondon,  1910)  281  ff.,  and  Die  Religion  Babyloniens  und 
Assyriens,  ii.  213  ff . 


definite  circumstances  by  means  of  questions  ad- 
dressed to  the  god  before  the  sacrifice.  This  we 
gather  from  an  elaborate  series  of  prayers,  ad- 
dressed to  Shamash,  the  Sun-god,  during  the  reigns 
of  Esarhaddon  and  Ashurbanipal,  which  throw 
an  interesting  light  on  the  method  of  procedure.1 
The  prayers  contain  appeals  to  the  oracle  on 
political  matters.  Definite  questions  were  asked 
as  to  the  course  of  future  events  within  a  specified 
time,  and  the  priests  answered  the  questions 
according  to  the  omens  presented  by  the  sacrificial 
victims.  The  questions  were  framed  with  great 
ingenuity,  so  that  all  contingencies  might  be 
covered.  The  prayers  also  prove  that  scrupulous 
care  was  taken  in  the  preparation  of  the  victim 
and  the  recital  of  the  accompanying  formulse, 
while  it  was  also  essential  that  the  diviner,  no  less 
than  the  victim,  should  be  free  from  any  cere- 
monial impurity.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that, 
in  these  prayers  to  the  Sun-oracle,  the  signs  found 
in  the  victim  are  noted  but  are  not  interpreted. 
The  roughly-shaped  tablets  on  which  they  were 
written  were  actually  used  in  the  course  of  the 
ritual :  they  contain  the  appeal  to  the  oracle  and 
the  oracle's  answer  as  seen  in  the  victim's  liver. 
The  question  was  first  written  out,  and  the  tablet 
was  placed  before  the  god  (cf.  the  Greek  practice 
at  Delphi) ;  the  god's  answer  was  afterwards  added 
in  terms  of  the  liver.  For  the  diviner's  interpreta- 
tion of  this  answer  to  the  king  no  doubt  another 
tablet  was  employed. 

Many  of  these  oracle-tablets,  especially  those  of 
Esarhaddon's  time,  contain  appeals  to  Shamash  to 
reveal  the  outcome  of  the  military  campaigns  in 
which  he  was  engaged.  They  also  furnish  evidence 
that  the  Assyrian  king,  doubtless  following  Baby- 
lonian precedent,  consulted  the  oracle  on  every 
occasion  of  importance,  such  as  the  dispatch  of  an 
envoy,  the  giving  of  a  daughter  in  marriage,  the 
sickness  of  a  royal  relative,  the  appointment  of  a 
high  official,  etc.  In  the  case  of  the  Sun-oracles 
the  answers  received  by  the  king  have  disappeared, 
but  it  is  probable  that  they  resembled  certain 
oracles  of  Ishtar  of  Arbela,  which  the  goddess 
vouchsafed  to  Esarhaddon,2  obviously  in  answer 
to  such  questions  as  those  addressed  to  the  Sun- 
god.  Here  the  oracles  are  composed  in  the  first 
person,  the  speaker  representing  the  goddess ;  but 
in  each  case  the  name  of  the  priest  or  priestess  who 
pronounced  the  oracle  on  the  goddess's  behalf  is 
given.3  The  answers  of  the  oracles  which  have 
been  collected  and  preserved  are  invariably  en- 
couraging, and  promise  success  to  the  king  in 
somewhat  vague  and  general  phraseology.  They 
are  clearly  happy  omens  that  have  been  fulfilled. 

The  reason  why  the  god  of  the  oracle  should 
reveal  the  future  through  the  liver  of  the  victim 
is  not  at  first  sight  obvious.  But  it  is  certain  that 
the  liver,  not  the  heart,  was  regarded  by  peoples 
in  a  primitive  state  of  culture  as  the  seat  of  life ; 
and  there  is  much  to  be  said  for  the  theory  that 
the  sacrificial  animal  on  being  accepted  by  the 
deity,  was  regarded  as  assimilated  to  him.4  The 
soul  of  the  animal  was  thus  put  in  accord  with 
the  soul  of  the  god,  and,  by  reading  the  one,  the 
diviner  read  the  other.  This  theory  also  underlay 
the  practice  of  hepatoscopy  among  the  Etruscans, 
Greeks,  and  Romans  (see  '  Greek '  and  '  Roman ' 

1  Cf.  Knudtzon,  Assyr.  Gebete  an  den  Sonnengott,  2  vols., 
Leipzig,  1893. 

2  Cf.  Rawlinson,  WAI  iv.  pi.  61.  In  addition  to  Shamash  and 
Ishtar,  the  other  gods  whose  names  are  particularly  associated 
with  royal  oracles  are  Ashur  and  Nabu.  In  Babylonia,  Marduk's 
claim  to  supremacy  in  this,  as  in  other  departments  of  the 
national  religion,  was  not  contested. 

3  To  one  oracle  a  note  is  added,  giving  directions  for  its  pre- 
sentation to  the  king  with  accompanying  ceremonial.  It  was 
to  be  recited  to  the  king  after  precious  oil  had  been  poured  out, 
offerings  made,  and  incense  burnt  (cf.  Strong,  Beitrage  zuf 
Assyriologie,  ii.  [1894]  628,  630). 

4  See  Jastrow,  Rel.  Bab.  und  Assyr.  it  213  ff . 


DIVINATION  (Assyro-Babylonian) 


785 


sections),  who  doubtless  derived  much  of  their 
augural  lore  from  Babylonia. 

No  such  theory  underlay  other  forms  of  volun- 
tary divination,  such  as  oil-divination,1  or  divina- 
tion by  arrows,'  or  the  flight  of  birds,  etc.  In 
all  such  cases  (including  possibly  the  flight  of 
birds)  the  oracle  was  deliberately  invoked,  but 
there  was  no  question  of  the  instrument  being 
assimilated  to  the  deity.  Each  was  merely  a 
passive  witness  to  the  Divine  will,  which  was  made 
plain  according  to  a  traditional  code  having  the 
sanction  of  the  oracle. 

The  most  important  form  of  involuntary  divina- 
tion concerns  the  portents  exhibited  by  the  heavens. 
Eclipses,  storms,  and  unusual  atmospheric  con- 
ditions would  naturally  be  regarded  from  the 
earliest  periods  as  manifestations  of  Divine  anger, 
and  their  correct  interpretation  would  be  of  the 
utmost  importance  to  a  race,  however  primitive. 
To  go  still  farther,  and  trace  a  connexion  between 
earthly  occurrences  and  the  movements  of  the 
heavenly  bodies  was  a  much  later  development, 
and  undoubtedly  followed  the  identification  of 
the  planets  and  principal  fixed  stars  with  the 
chief  gods  of  the  pantheon.  Winckler's  assump- 
tion that  there  was  thought  to  be  a  perfect 
correspondence  between  heaven  and  earth,  and 
that  the  occurrences  on  earth  were  merely  a  re- 
flexion of  heavenly  phenomena  (see  Stars  [Assyr.- 
Bab.]),  is  quite  untrue  for  the  earlier  historical 
epochs,  and  is  true  only  in  a  restricted  sense  for 
the  latest  periods  of  Neo-Babylonian  speculation. 
The  Neo-Assyrian  astrological  reports  indicate 
what  a  careful  watch  was  kept  at  that  period  by 
the  royal  astrologers  for  any  indication  of  the 
Divine  will,  and  the  calendars  of  favourable  and 
unfavourable  days  were  but  one  result  of  the  study 
which  had  been  devoted  to  the  astrological  branch 
of  divination.  In  most  of  the  omens  connected 
with  both  hepatoscopy  and  astrology  the  predic- 
tions refer  to  the  general  rather  than  to  the  indi- 
vidual welfare,  in  which  we  may  see  an  indication 
of  their  official  character. 

Private  and  unofficial  divination,  to  the  con- 
tinued existence  of  which  the  private  letters  of 
the  later  Assyrian  period  bear  witness,  bulks  far 
more  largely  in  the  collections  of  augural  tablets 
dealing  with  birth-omens,  the  interpretation  of 
dreams,  and  of  incidents  in  daily  life.  Mon- 
strosities, human  and  animal,  were  naturally 
treated  as  significant,  and  future  events  were 
also  predicted  from  minute  variations  in  human 
infants  and  the  young  of  animals.  The  class 
of  general  portents  which  were  thought  to  fore- 
tell public  disasters  is  well  illustrated  by  an  As- 
syrian copy  of  a  list  of  forty -seven  portents  which 
preceded  a  conquest  of  Babylonia.3  The  pheno- 
mena from  which  the  portents  were  derived  may 
be  classified  under  two  headings  :  (a)  rare  natural 
occurrences,  and  (b)  events  which  appeared  to 
break  some  law  of  Nature.  Under  the  first  head- 
ing we  have  the  fall  of  beams  in  houses,  the 
outbreak  of  fire  in  sacred  places,  the  appearance 
of  wild  beasts  and  birds  in  Babylon,  a  great  flood 
at  Borsippa,  when  the  waters  of  the  Euphrates 
rose  within  the  precincts  of  Nabu's  temple  Ezida, 
and  a  flight  of  meteors  or  falling  stars.  Under 
events  which  appeared  to  be  contrary  to  some  law 
of  Nature  may  be  set  the  story  of  a  decapitated 
head  crying  out,  the  occurrence  of  human  and 
animal  monstrosities,  cases  of  incest  and  un- 
natural matings  of  animals,  fruitfulness  of  the 
male  in  the  case  of  a  dog  and  of  a  male  date- 
palm,  unnatural  growths  and  appearances  of  date- 

1  See  above,  p.  783*>. 

2  This  form  of  divination  is  referred  to  aa  employed  by  the 
Bah.  king  in  Ezk  2121K. 

3  See  King,  Cuneiform  Texts  in  the  Brit.  Mus.,  London,  1909, 
nix.  9,  pi.  48 f. 

VOL.  IV. — 50 


palms,  and  the  appearance  of  evil  spirits  in  sacred 
places.  Under  the  last  heading  may  also  be  set 
the  appearance  of  honey  on  the  ground  at  Nippur 
and  of  salt  at  Babylon,  though  these  were  doubt- 
less natural  secretions  of  the  soil.  The  import- 
ance attached  to  such  portents,  affecting  general 
and  not  individual  welfare,  is  attested  by  the 
fact  that  in  the  Neo-Babylonian  period  chronicles 
of  such  events  were  compiled  on  the  same  lines 
as  the  historical  chronicles  and  were  regarded  as 
of  equal  value  and  significance.1 

The  tablets  of  unofficial  portents  prove  that 
almost  every  event  of  common  life  was  capable 
of  being  interpreted  as  a  favourable  or  unfavour- 
able sign.  But  it  should  be  noted  that  many  of 
the  events  referred  to  on  the  tablets  are  to  be 
taken  as  occurrences  in  dreams,  though  this  may 
not  be  explicitly  stated  in  the  portion  of  the  text 
preserved.  In  fact,  the  interpretation  of  dreamt 
was  one  of  the  most  important  duties  of  the 
professional  seer  or  diviner  both  in  unofficial  and 
in  official  life.  Keference  has  already  been  made 
to  the  existence  of  this  branch  of  divination  in 
the  earlier  period,  and  the  Assyrian  historical 
inscriptions  prove  that  the  gods  continued  to 
adopt  this  method  of  sending  encouragement  to 
the  Icing  or  of  making  known  to  him  their  wishes. 
The  visible  appearance  of  Ishtar,  to  encourage 
Ashurbanipal's  army  in  Elarn,2  may  be  explained 
as  a  vision  in  sleep,  and  she  probably  did  not 
appear  to  the  king  himself,  but  to  a  professional 
seer,  as  is  definitely  stated  on  another  occasion 
when  she  sent  the  king  a  message.  Such  theo- 
phanies,  accompanied  by  direct  messages,  were 
naturally  of  very  clear  and  certain  interpretation  ; 
but  the  meaning  of  most  dreams  was  quite  un- 
certain to  the  dreamer,  for  significance  attached 
to  the  most  minute  points  in  the  vision,  and  in 
every  case  it  was  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  a 
highly  trained  diviner. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  classes  of  unofficial 
omens  was  drawn  from  the  appearance  of  the 
various  parts  of  the  body  during  sickness,  for  the 
events  predicted  generally  concerned  the  chances 
of  the  sick  man's  recovery,  and  they  may  thus  be 
regarded  as  having  something  in  common  with  the 
scientific  study  of  disease.  Not  only  were  the 
sick  man's  colour  and  his  cries  and  groans  minutely 
noted,  but  such  physiological  phenomena  as  con- 
vulsions, epileptic  movements,  shivering  from 
fever,  and  palpitations  were  carefully  studied  and 
made  the  subject  of  prognostication.  It  may  be 
noted  that  many  omen-texts  which  were  formerly 
regarded  as  connected  with  births  are  rather  to 
be  connected  with  this  class  of  divination. 

There  is  evidence  that  the  practice  of  various 
forms  of  divination,  like  that  of  Bab.  astrology, 
was  adopted  by  the  Greeks  after  Alexander's  con- 
quest, and  so  survived  under  modified  forms  into 
the  mediaeval  period.  The  mere  fact  that  '  Chal- 
dasan'  was  used  by  the  Greeks  as  a  synonymous 
term  for  '  astrologer '  indicates  the  spread  of  the 
Babylonian  astrological  system,  but  there  is  also 
evidence  that  other  forms  of  divination  were 
practised  by  native  diviners  who  had  wandered 
to  the  coasts  of  Asia  Minor  and  the  West.3  It 
is  thus  possible  that  more  than  one  form  of  divina- 
tion which  has  survived  to  the  present  day  may 
be  traced  to  a  Babylonian  origin. 

Literature. — In  La  Divination  et  la  science  des  presages 
(PariH,  1876)  F.  Lenormant  published  a  very  able  summary 

1  Cf.  King,  Chronicles  concerning  Early  Babylonian  Kings, 
London,  1907,  i.  212  ff. 

2Cf.  WAI  v.  pi.  v.  line  96  fl.  So,  too,  the  god  Ashur  is 
said  to  have  appeared  to  Gyges,  king  of  Lydia,  and  to  have 
commanded  him  to  pay  homage  to  Ashurbanipal  (op.  cit.  pi. 
ii.  line  932.). 

3  See  Hunger,  *  Bab.  Tieromina  nebst  griech.-rbm.  Parallelen 
(M VG,  1909,  p.  3). 


786 


DIVINATION  (Buddhist) 


of  the  subject,  considering  the  period  at  which  he  wrote. 
Much  new  material  has  been  published  and  classified  by 
A.  Boissier  in  his  Documents  assyriens  relatifs  aux  "presages 
(Paris,  1894-99)  and  his  Choix  de  textes  relatifs  a  la  divination 
assyr.-babylonienne  (Geneva,  1905,  etc.);  see  also  Cuneiform 
Texts  in  the  British  Museum,  pts.  xx.,  xxvii.  f.  and  xxx.  f.  The 
fullest  discussion  is  that  by  M.  Jastrow,  Die  Religion  Baby- 
loniens  und  Assyrians,  Giessen,  190211.,  ii.  1 38  ff. ,  203  ff.  For 
other  references  see  the  footnotes  throughout  the  article. 

Leonard  W.  King. 

DIVINATION  (Buddhist).— The  art  of  divina- 
tion was  widely  practised  in  India,  as  in  Ancient 
Europe,  at  the  time  of  the  Buddha's  birth.  The 
early  accounts  of  the  latter  event  relate  that  eight 
Brahmans  '  most  versed  in  the  science  of  astrology ' 
were  called  in  by  the  prince's  father  '  to  examine 
carefully  all  the  signs  prognosticating  the  future 
destiny  of  his  son  '  (Bigandet,  Life  of  Gaudama  2, 
Rangoon,  1866,  i.  46).  Buddha  himself,  as  was  to 
be  expected,  when  he  became  a  teacher  is  invari- 
ably represented  in  the  scriptures  as  discouraging 
and  condemning  divination  and  all  allied  arts. 
Although  he  personally  was  credited  with  fore- 
knowledge, tills  endowment,  in  common  with  that 
of  working  miracles,  etc. ,  is  regarded  by  Buddhists 
as  the  supernatural  power  (ird/ii)  inherent  in  every 
perfected  saint,  or  arhat ;  and  he  is  never  repre- 
sented as  using  this  prophetic  power  for  sorcery  or 
soothsaying  purposes.  His  chief  right-hand  dis- 
ciple, however,  Maudgalyayana,  is  reputed  in  the 
scriptures  of  both  divisions  of  Buddhism  to  have 
practised  divination  and  sorcery,  by  means  of 
which  he  is  represented  as  having  extended  the 
popularity  of  that  faith.  For  such  pandering  to 
popular  prejudice  he  is  reproved  on  several 
occasions  by  the  Buddha,  who  is  recorded  to  have 
said  :  '  That  mendicant  does  right  to  whom  omens, 
planetary  influence,  dreams,  and  signs  are  things 
abolished  ;  he  is  free  from  all  their  evils '  (Sammd- 
paribhajaniya  sutta,  2). 

Nevertheless,  divination  was  obviously  too  deep- 
rooted  in  the  popular  life  to  be  eradicated ;  it  is 
found  at  the  present  day  flourishing  among  pro- 
fessing Buddhists  of  all  sections,  and  among  monks 
as  well  as  the  laity.  It  is  not  merely  that  foreign 
aboriginal  methods  of  divination  have  been  ac- 
corded a  measure  of  recognition  by  Buddhism  in 
its  extension  as  a  popular  religion  outside  India  to 
the  Mongolian  races,  who  have  been  inveterately 
addicted  to  divination  and  shamanism  from  the 
earliest  times ;  positive  elements  of  Indian  astro- 
logy have  been  introduced  by  the  Buddhist  monks, 
who  are  now  the  chief  astrologers  for  soothsaying 
purposes,  not  only  in  Tibet  and  Mongolia,  but  in 
Burma,  Ceylon,  and  Siam.  The  grosser  forms  of 
divination  remain  for  the  most  part  in  the  hands 
of  the  laity  or  of  the  priests  and  priestesses  of  the 
pre-Buddhistic  cults.  But  even  some  of  these  have 
been  given  a  veneer  of  Buddhism  by  replacing  in 
several  instances  the  aboriginal  cabalistic  words 
of  incantation  by  stereotyped  sentences  (mantras) 
in  the  Indian  language,  culled  from  the  Indian 
Buddhistic  scriptures. 

Divination  is  sought  after  by  the  majority  of 
professing  Buddhists  in  matters  of  almost  everyday 
business,  as  well  as  in  the  great  epochs  of  life — 
birth,  marriage,  and  death — or  in  sickness.  It  is 
primarily  employed  for  the  most  part  to  ascertain 
the  planetary  influences  which  are  lucky  or  un- 
lucky, rather  than  those  directly  supposed  to  be 
caused  by  the  demons  (cf.  Demons  and  Spirits 
[Buddhist]),  though  the  iatter  are  usually  regarded 
as  the  chief  agents  for  executing  the  evil  influence 
of  the  planets.  The  birth-horoscope  of  every  indi- 
vidual, which  is  jealously  treasured  by  himself, 
fixes  the  special  planetary  influences  which  are 
hostile  throughout  life.  The  intensity  of  such 
influence  varies  according  to  whether  the  planet  in 
question  is  ascending  or  not.  Then  these  personal 
unlucky  days    have    to    be    compared    with   the 


general  lucky  or  unlucky  days  for  that  particular 
day  and  week,  and  these  again  with  those  for  that 
season  and  the  elements,  according  to  the  varying 
positions  of  the  planets  at  the  time.  The  results, 
moreover,  vary  with  the  kind  of  business  or 
adventure  contemplated,  which  introduces  another 
set  of  unlucky  combinations.  Thus  an  almost 
endless  variation  in  the  forebodings  of  luck  or  ill- 
luck  is  made  possible  ;  and  this  is  to  be  sought  out 
beforehand,  and  the  evil  duly  avoided  or  counter- 
acted. In  this  way  is  usually  determined  which  is 
the  right  day  and  hour  on  which  to  commence  any 
particular  work,  the  right  direction  in  which  to 
set  out  on  a  journey,  etc.,  the  issue  of  any  special 
business  or  matter  of  anxiety,  or  the  interpreta- 
tion of  omens  and  dreams. 

The  methods  of  divination  practised  by  Buddhist 
peoples  appear  to  fall  broadly  into  three  categories, 
namely :  (a)  lots — the  simplest,  and  generally 
performed  by  the  people  themselves  ;  (b)  astrology, 
for  which  learned  adepts  are  necessary,  usually  the 
higher  Buddhist  priests ;  and  (c)  oracles,  usually 
given  by  a  priest  or  priestess  of  the  aboriginal 
religion,  seldom  by  a  Buddhist  monk. 

Astrology  is  the  more  reputable  form  of  divina- 
tion practised  by  orthodox  Buddhist  monks,  and 
from  the  preparation  of  the  horoscopes  and  the 
worship  prescribed  therein  the  monasteries  derive 
a  considerable  amount  of  their  income.  Among 
the  '  Northern '  BuddhistB  the  presiding  genius  of 
the  astrologers  is  the  Bodhisattva  Mafijusri.  The 
oracles  and  professional  soothsayers  are  almost 
exclusively  confined  to  the  followers  of  the  pre- 
Buddhist  religion  of  the  particular  country.  A 
few  isolated  temples  are  famed  for  their  ejracles, 
in  which  the  presiding  divinity  or  demon,  or,  it 
may  be,  the  spirit  of  a  departed  saint,  is  believed 
to  inspire  the  officiating  priest.  More  frequently 
the  seer  is  a  hermit  who  has  gained  a  reputation 
as  a  prophet ;  but  most  commonly  it  is  one  of  the 
numerous  witch-doctors  who  is  resorted  to  for  an 
augury.  These  are  of  the  class  generally  known 
as  shamans,  some  of  whom  are  women.  They  are 
usually  illiterate,  but  possess  a  very  shrewd  and 
ready  wit.  They  deliver  their  oracular  response 
whilst  in  an  exalted  state,  into  which  they  work 
themselves  by  frenzied  gesticulations.  The  office 
usually  descends  in  the  family.  One  of  the 
commonest  questions  they  have  to  answer  is  that 
relating  to  the  source  of  the  bewitchment  or  en- 
chantment (Skr.  prabhava,  Tib.  mt'u)  which  is 
causing  sickness  to  some  particular  person. 

The  Burmese,  who  may  be  taken  as  a  type  of 
the  '  Southern '  division  of  Buddhists,  are  fettered 
in  the  bonds  of  horoscopes  and  witch-doctors  (see 
art.  Burma,  §  19). 

Amongst  '  Northern '  or  Mahayana  Buddhists 
divination  is  almost  universal.  In  Chinese  Bud- 
dhism it  is  only  a  little  less  prevalent  than  in 
that  of  Tibet  and  Mongolia,  where  it  reaches  its 
culminating  point.  Here  the  Indian  astrological 
elements  are  largely  mixed  with  the  Chinese,  and 
the  oracular  methods  are  of  a  more  frankly 
shamanist  type. 

In  Tibet,  all  three  of  the  above-noted  classes  of 
divination  are  widely  current.  Those  monks  who 
practise  the  art  of  astrology  for  divination  purposes 
are  called  tsi-pa,  or  '  calculators. '  Each  sect  has 
its  own  tsi-pa,  who  are  among  the  most  learned 
and  respected  members  of  the  monastery.  The 
astrological  methods  follow  the  general  lines 
already  indicated ;  but  the  Chinese  system  of 
astrology  largely  predominates  over  the  Indian, 
as  has  been  shown  in  the  specimens  of  actual 
horoscopes  translated  in  detail  by  the  present 
writer  (Buddhism  of  Tibet,  pp.  458,  etc.).  The 
combinations  of  unlucky  portents  are  complicated 
by  the  introduction  of  a  more  complex  system  of 


DIVINATION  (Celtic) 


787 


elements  and  cyclical  animal-years  and  trigrams. 
In  arriving  at  the  calculations  an  important  part  is 
played  by  the  famous  mystic  Chinese  trigram,  '  the 
eight  kwa  '  (Tib.  par-k'ha),  on  which  the  mysterious 
'  Book  of  Changes,'  Yi-king,  with  its  64  hexagrams, 
is  built  up.  A  notable  difference  between  the 
Tibetan  and  Chinese  methods  is  that,  while  the 
former  use  only  the  trigrams  for  divination,  the 
latter  employ  exclusively  the  derived  hexagrams 
for  this  purpose. 

The  method  by  lot  is  the  most  popular  and 
common  of  all,  and  for  its  practice  nearly  every 
layman  is  equipped  with  a  pocket  divination 
manual  called  md-pe,  by  which  the  augury  may 
be  ascertained.  This  booklet,  which  the  present 
writer  has  translated  in  great  part,  divides  the 
results  into  different  sections  intended  to  cover  all 
the  events  for  which  an  augury  is  likely  to  be 
sought.  The  usual  headings  are  '  Household,' 
'  Favours,' '  Life,'  'Medical,'  '  Enemy,'  'Visitors,' 
'Business,'  'Travel,'  'Lost  Property,'  'Wealth,' 
and  '  Sickness.'  The  lots  are  of  various  kinds, 
and  include  the  following : — (1)  Barley-corn  or 
other  grain,  or  pebbles  or  coins  drawn  from  a  heap, 
or  a  clutch  of  the  rosary-beads ;  the  last  being 
perhaps  the  most  common  of  all  modes.  (2)  Dice 
upon  a  board  on  which  are  drawn  geomantic  figures 
with  Tibetan  references  or  symbolic  animals,  or  a 
magic  square  with  9  compartments  called  the  9 
sMe-ba  (pronounced  me-iva),  or  magic  squares  of 
15  or  20,  etc.,  numbered  compartments,  of  Indian 
character,  or  consecutive  lotus  leaves  numbered  or 
inscribed,  also  derived  from  India.  (3)  Twigs — ■ 
one  of  the  forms  of  sorcery-divination  is  called 
'  the  green  twig  spell '  (sNgo-sNgag).  This  suggests 
to  the  present  writer  a  parallel  with  the  ancient 
Greek  term  for  '  lot,'  namely  /AtJoos,  from  /cXdSos, 
'  twig ' ;  and  the  greenness  of  the  twig  seems  to 
imply  the  living  presence  of  the  tree-god.  (4) 
Cards  on  which  geomantic  figures  or  allegorical 
animals  or  signs  are  drawn  or  painted,  with 
sentences  to  which  Tibetan  characters  are  assigned 
for  reference.  (5)  Sheets  or  passages  of  the 
Buddhist  scriptures  drawn  at  random  after  an 
incantation.  An  official  instance  of  divination  by 
lot  is  seen  in  ths  selection  in  this  way  of  the  Dalai 
Lama  by  the  '  Ordeal  of  the  Urn  (see  art.  by 
present  writer  in  JRAS,  1910,  pp.  69-86),  the 
result  of  which  is  believed  to  represent  a  direct 
expression  of  the  Divine  will.  Indeed,  some  lamas 
go  so  far  as  to  profess  to  determine  by  dice  the 
particular  region  and  state  in  which  a  deceased 
person  has  been  re-born. 

In  all  these  operations  the  recital  of  Buddhist 
mystic  formulae  (mantras)  as  magical  spells  or 
incantations  plays  an  important  part. 

The  oracle  is  a  living  institution  in  Tibet,  largely 
resorted  to  by  all  the  sects,  reformed  and  unre- 
formed.  The  monks  of  the  yellow-cap  and  other 
sects  who  train  as  sorcerers  (sNgag-pa,  pron.  nag- 
pa)  do  not  practise  oracular  divination  except  for 
ascertaining  the  presence  and  identity  of  evil 
spirits  supposed  to  be  actually  causing  sickness  or 
other  harm,  with  the  view  of  exorcizing  them. 
The  soothsaying  oracle-giver  is  usually  a  follower 
of  the  aboriginal  Bon  religion,  and,  though  at- 
tached to  one  of  the  great  monasteries,  is  not  con- 
sidered to  be  a  member  of  the  brotherhood,  and  is 
allowed  to  marry.  The  leading  exception  is  the 
State  Oracle  at  Nechung  near  Lhasa,  at  present 
represented  by  a  celibate  monk  of  the  yellow-cap 
sect,  but  his  origin  from  a  non-Buddhistic  Mon- 
golian source  has  been  traced  by  the  present  writer 
in  detail.  He  is  given  the  title  of  '  defender  of  the 
faith '  (cho's-skyong),  and  is  consulted  by  the  State 
on  all  great  undertakings,  and  daily  by  the  public. 
Among  the  other  oracles  not  absorbed  within  the 
monastic    order    and    retaining    their    aboriginal 


features,  the  most  important  is  at  Karmashar  in 
Lhasa,  which  purports  to  be  inspired  by  the  devil. 
The  dress  and  equipment  of  these  priests  and  their 
frenzied  bearing  identify  them  with  the  Bon  cult 
and  the  shamanist  devil-dancers.  They  possess  no 
literature,  and  deliver  their  sayings  orally  in 
cryptic  oracular  form.  They  are  ordinarily  re- 
sorted to  for  the  interpretation  of  omens  and 
dreams,  as  well  as  in  matters  of  business  and 
anxiety.  Their  implements  include  (1)  an  arrow 
(dah-dar),  to  which  coloured  silken  rags  are 
attached ;  (2)  a  magic  mirror  of  metal,  which 
reflects  the  future — a  Taoist  and  Shinto  feature. 
For  their  augury  they  may  gaze  into  a  bowl  or 
pool  of  water,  or  observe  the  smoke  of  a  sacrificial 
fire,  or  the  entrails  of  animals  sacrificed  and  sheep's 
droppings,  or  the  lines  on  charred  sheep's  bones, 
such  as  shoulder-blades  —  an  ancient  Mongol 
custom.  Women  frequently  are  the  recognized 
oracles  in  the  country  districts.  In  recording 
several  of  the  ways  in  which  divining  was  practised 
in  Tibet,  a  mediaeval  Chinese  observer  wrote : 
'  Notwithstanding  the  variety  of  their  methods  of 
divination,  and  their  unskilfulness  in  their  mode 
of  examining,  they  are  quite  frequently  surpris- 
ingly accurate.'     This  criticism  still  holds  good. 

Literatdrk.— W.  W.  Rockhill,  JRAS,  1891,  pp.  235,  etc.  ; 
Sir  G.  Scott  ('  Shway  Yoe '),  The  Burman,  London,  1882 ; 
L.  A.  Waddell,  Buddhism  of  Tibet,  do.,  1895,  and  Lhasa  and 
its  Mysteries,  do.,  1905.  L.  A.  WADDELL. 


DIVINATION  (Celtic).— According  to  Justin 
(xxiv.  iv.  4),  the  Celts  were  skilled  beyond  other 
peoples  in  the  science  of  augury,  and  Pausanias  is 
mistaken  when  (X.  xxi.  2)  he  doubts  the  existence 
of  the  art  of  divination  among  them.  The  Celts 
practised  all  kinds  of  divination.  It  was  by  the 
flight  of  birds  that  the  Gauls  who  invaded  Illyri- 
cum  were  guided  (Justin  xxiv.  iv.  4).  It  was  by 
lot  that  the  Hercynian  forest  was  allocated  to 
Sigovesus  (Livy,  v.  xxxiv.  4).  The  coincidence  of 
two  names  of  countries  was  an  omen  that  led  the 
Gauls  to  found  a  town  in  Cisalpine  Gaul  (Livy, 
V.  xxxiv.  9).  The  Gallic  king  Catumandus  made 
peace  with  the  people  of  Marseilles  because  of  a 
dream  in  which  Minerva  appeared  to  him  (Justin, 
XLIII.  v.  5).  In  218  B.C.  the  Galatre  allied  with 
Attalus  refused  to  go  any  further  because  they 
were  frightened  by  an  eclipse  of  the  moon  (Polyb. 
v.  lxxviii.  1).  Before  engaging  in  battle,  the  Gauls 
used  to  consult  the  entrails  of  victims ;  and  once, 
when  the  entrails  announced  a  great  defeat  for 
them,  they  massacred  their  women  and  children 
in  order  to  gain  the  favour  of  the  gods  (Justin, 
XXVI.  ii.  2).  According  to  Strabo  (IV.  iv.  5  [p.  198]), 
the  sacrifices  and  augural  practices  of  the  Gauls 
were  opposed  to  those  of  the  Romans  ;  the  human 
victim,  who  was  very  often  a  criminal,  was  killed 
by  a  sword-stroke  on  the  back,  and  the  future  was 
foretold  from  the  way  he  fell,  the  nature  of  his 
convulsions,  and  the  now  of  blood,  in  accordance 
with  an  ancient  and  unbroken  series  of  observa- 
tions (cf.  Diod.  Sic.  V.  xxxi.  3).  Artemidorus 
relates  that  in  a  certain  harbour  there  were  two 
crows  that  had  their  right  wings  tinged  with 
white  ;  people  who  were  in  litigation  used  to  lay 
cakes  on  a  board,  each  arranging  his  own  in  such 
a  way  as  to  avoid  all  confusion.  The  crows 
swooped  down  on  the  cakes,  ate  the  one  person's 
and  scattered  the  other's,  and  the  disputant  whose 
cakes  were  scattered  won  the  case  (see  Strabo,  IV. 
iv.  6  [p.  198]).  Vervain  was  used  by  the  Gauls  for 
drawing  lots  and  foretelling  the  future  (Pliny,  XXV. 
lix.  106 ;  cf.  Servius  on  JEn.  iii.  57).  Hippolytus 
(Philosophumena,  25)  mentions  lots  by  pebbles 
and  numbers  among  the  Celts.  The  evil  omens 
noticed  by  the  Britons  of  the  1st  cent,  were  of 
great  variety  :  noises  outside  the  curia  ;  howlings 
in  the  theatre  ;  the  appearance  of  a  buried  city  at 


788 


DIVINATION  (Christian) 


the  mouth  of  the  Thames  ;  the  Atlantic  looking 
like  a  sea  of  blood  ;  human  forms  left  on  the  shore 
by  the  tide  (Tac.  Ann.  xiv.  32). 

Ornithomancy,  haruspiey,  and  the  other  methods 
of  divination  were  undoubtedly  practised  origin- 
ally by  the  tribal  chiefs.  The  Galatian  king  Deio- 
tarus  was  renowned  as  an  augur  (Cic.  de  Div.  i.  15 
[26-27] ;  cf.  ii.  37  [78]) ;  he  never  began  an  under- 
taking without  first  consulting  the  auspices.  Once, 
when  he  had  started  on  a  journey,  he  was  turned 
back  by  the  flight  of  an  eagle;  he  broke  off  his 
journey,  and  so  escaped  harm.  The  British  queen 
Boudicca  drew  a  favourable  omen  from  the  course 
of  a  hare  which  she  had  concealed  among  her 
clothes  and  then  set  at  liberty  (Dio  Cass.  lxii.  6). 
At  a  very  early  period  among  the  Celts  there  were 
priests  whose  duty  was  to  foretell  the  future. 
Justin  (XXXII.  iii.  9)  mentions  haruspices  at  Tou- 
louse who,  in  order  to  free  the  Tectosagi  from  an 
epidemic  of  pestilence,  bade  them  throw  the  gold 
and  silver  they  had  got  from  the  expedition  of 
Brennus  into  the  Lake  of  Toulouse.  Diodorus 
Siculus  (v.  xxxi.  31)  distinguishes  the  Druids  and 
the  bards  from  the  soothsayers  (/idxreis),  who  fore- 
told the  future  by  the  flight  of  birds  and  by  ex- 
amining the  entrails  of  victims  ;  they  enjoyed  great 
authority.  They  are  identical  with  the  ovarets  (Gr. 
transcription  of  Lat.  vates)  of  Strabo  (rv.  iv.  4 
[p.  197]).  They  are  often  confused  with  the  Druids 
{q.v. ).  According  to  Caesar  (vi.  13),  the  Druids  inter- 
pret the  will  of  the  gods.  The  Druid  Divitiacus 
used  to  predict  the  future  partly  by  the  observation 
of  birds  and  partly  by  conjecture  (Cicero,  op.  cit. 
i.  41  [90]).  In  the  time  of  Tacitus,  Gallic  Druids 
announced  that  the  burning  of  the  Capitol  pre- 
saged the  approaching  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire 
and  the  control  of  the  world  by  the  Transalpines 
(Hist.  iv.  54).  A  scholium  tells  that  it  was  after 
eating  acorns  that  the  Druids  foretold  the  future 
(Usener,  Commenta  Bernensia,  1869,  p.  33).  Lastly, 
the  priestesses  of  the  Island  of  Sena,  who  were 
endowed  with  various  magical  powers,  such  as  the 
power  to  rouse  the  sea  and  the  waves  by  their 
songs,  the  power  of  changing  into  animals,  and  of 
curing  otherwise  incurable  diseases,  had  knowledge 
of  the  future  and  foretold  it  to  those  who  sailed 
to  consult  them  (Mela,  III.  vi.  48). 

There  were  women  in  Gaul  in  the  3rd  cent,  of 
our  era  who  foretold  the  future.  One  of  them 
warned  the  emperor  Alexander  Severus  of  his 
approaching  end  (Lampridius,  Alexander  Severus, 
60).  The  emperor  Aurelian  consulted  Gallic  pro- 
phetesses on  the  future  of  his  posterity  (Vopiscus, 
Aurelian,  44).  A  female  soothsayer  who  kept  an 
inn  at  Tongres  promised  the  Empire,  it  is  said,  to 
Diocletian  (Vopiscus,  Numerianus,  14). 

Among  the  Irish,  as  known  to  us  from  the 
ancient  pagan  epics,  divination  was  held  in  high 
esteem.  It  was  practised  by  the  Druids.  The 
source  of  their  predictions  was  often  the  observation 
of  natural  phenomena ;  the  best  known  form  was 
divination  by  the  clouds,  and  the  word  ntladoir, 
lit.  '  one  who  studies  the  clouds,'  was  used  to 
designate  the  soothsayers.  But  divination  takes 
place  very  often  with  the  help  of  various  objects  : 
a  yew-rod  marked  with  ogham  characters  ;  a  wheel, 
which  recalls  the  well-known  symbol  of  a  Gallo- 
Roman  deity.  The  Druids  also  interpreted  dreams 
and  the  cries  of  birds,  especially  the  raven's  croak- 
ing and  the  wren's  twittering.  Sometimes  omens 
were  taken  from  the  howling  of  a  dog,  and  from  the 
form  of  a  tree-root.  In  the  Togail  Bruidne  Dd 
Derga  we  find  a  pig  sacrificed  in  order  to  discover 
the  future. 

We  have  no  direct  information  on  divination 
among  the  ancient  Britons.  But  the  Cornish 
teulet  pren,  '  to  throw  wood, '  means  '  to  draw 
lots';  the  Welsh  coelbren,   'wood  of  prediction,' 


means  '  lot ' ;  and  the  Irish  crann-chur,  '  to  throw 
the  wood,'  means  '  to  consult  the  lot.'  The  etymo- 
logical agreement  of  the  three  dialects  proves 
that  divination  by  pieces  of  wood,  mentioned  by 
Tacitus  among  the  Teutons  (Germania,  x.),  was 
practised  equally  by  the  Gauls  and  the  Britons. 
See  also  art.  Celts,  vol.  iii.  p.  300,  §  4,  and  Com- 
munion with  Deity  (Celtic),  vol.  iii.  p.  750,  §  5  ; 
and  art.  Fate  (Celtic). 

Literature.— -C.  Jullian,  Hist,  de  la  Gaule,  Paris,  1907,  iL 
151  f.;  P.  W.  Joyce,  A  Social  History  of  Ancient  Ireland, 
London,  1903,  i.  229-233 ;  H.  d'Arbois  de  Jubainville,  Court 
de  littirature  celtique,  vol.  i.,  Paris,  1883.         G.  DOTTIN. 

DIVINATION  (Christian).— 1.  Divination  was 
regarded  by  early  Christian  writers  as  a  branch  of 
magic.  It  was  a  danger  to  religious  life,  it  excited 
a  morbid  curiosity,  it  led  to  needless  anxiety,  it 
held  the  will  in  bondage  by  destroying  the  sense  of 
responsibility.     St.  Augustine  sums  up  its  dangers : 

'  Quae  tamen  plena  sunt  omnia  pestiferae  curiositatis,  cruci- 
antis  sollicitudinis,  mortiferae  servitutis '  (de  Doctr.  Ckr.  iL  24). 

Christ  is  the  door  (Jn  10")  ;  '  neither  knoweth 
any  man  the  Father,  save  the  Son,  and  he  to 
whomsoever  the  Son  will  reveal  him '  (Mt  ll27). 
'  The  gates  of  the  Divine  Reason  are  rational,  and 
they  are  opened  by  the  key  of  faith'  (Clement 
Alex,  ad  Gent.  1).  And  St.  Clement  adds  the 
warning :  '  Be  not  curious  of  ungodly  shrines ' 
(ib.  2).  Divination  is  a  practice  which  rests  on 
occult  methods,  methods  which  had  their  place 
in  primitive  religion,  but  gave  way  to  the 
higher  methods  of  Jewish  and  Christian  sacra- 
mentalism.  This  distinction  of  method  was  the 
guiding  principle  in  the  Christian  view  of  divina- 
tion. The  diviner  sees ;  he  has  an  insight  into 
Divine  things.  The  Christian  'walks  by  faith, 
not  by  sight'  (2  Co  5') ;  he  has  touch  with. God, 
but  this  touch  is  '  through  the  veil,  that  is,  his 
flesh,'  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  economy  of  the 
Incarnation  (He  1020).  Divination  is  impatient  to 
draw  the  veil  aside. 

Christianity,  therefore,  as  the  religion  of  the 
Incarnation,  has  discouraged  rites  and  practices 
which  set  aside  the  limitations  of  the  flesh,  and  are 
easily  able  to  get  beyond  control.  The  subjective 
type  of  divination,  whether  in  the  form  of  psychic 
exaltation  or  prophetic  ecstasy,  necessitates  a 
suspension  of  the  intellectual  energies.  The  '  sym- 
pathetic passivity  suitable  for  the  transmission  of 
the  Divine  thought'  produces  a  weakening  or 
destruction  of  individuality,  by  means  of  '  ecstatic 
enthusiasm,  deep  sleep,  sickness,  or  the  approach 
of  death'  (Chambers's  Encycl.,  art.  'Divination,' 
iv.  19).  Christianity,  in  its  responsibility  to 
strengthen  human  nature  as  a  whole  by  keeping 
control  over  the  different  faculties  by  means  of 
Divine  grace,  has  kept  divination  and  ecstasy  in  the 
background  as  a  danger  to  the  mind  and  the  will. 
This  control  is  emphasized  by  St.  Paul  :  '  The 
spirits  of  the  prophets  are  subject  to  the  prophets  ' 
(1  Co  1432). 

The  history  of  Christian  divination  is  the  history 
of  the  subjection  of  divination  to  the  control  of 
authority.  This  principle  is  summed  up  by  Gratian 
in  reference  to  divination  by  lot,  one  of  the  practices 
which  claimed  for  itself  Apostolic  authority  (Ac  l26) : 

'  Sic  et  sortibus  nicbil  mali  inesse  monstratur,  prohibetur 
tamen  fidelibus,  ne  sub  hac  specie  divinationis  ad  antiquos 
ydololatriae  cultus  redirent'  (Corp.  Jar.  Canon.,  ed.  Fried- 
berg,  1879,  pt.  i. ;  Deer.  Grat.  p.  ii.  caus.  xxvi.  qu.  ii.  c.  i.). 
Such  control  was  not  a  new  thing  in  the  exercise 
of  religious  authority.  When  Augustus  assumed 
the  office  of  Pontifex  Maximus,  he  destroyed  the 
magical  books  which  were  held  to  be  of  no  weight, 
and  preserved  only  the  Sibylline  books  : 
'  quicquid  fatidicorum  librorum  Graeci  Latinique  generis  nullis 
vel  parum  idoneis  auctoribus  vulgo  ferebatur,  supra  duo 
millia  contracta  undique  cremavit ;  ac  solos  retinuit  Sibyllinos 
(Sueton.  Caes.  Aug.  31). 


DIVINATION  (Christian) 


789 


For  the  same  reason,  it  is  related  that  L.  Petillius 
publicly  burnt  certain  Greek  books  as  endangering 
the  religion  of  Home  : 

'  Graecos,  quia  aliqua  ex  parte  ad  solvendam  religionem 
pertinere  exiatimabantur,  L.  Petillius  Praetor  Urbanua  ex  auc- 
toritate  senatus  per  victimarios  igne  facto,  in  conspectu  populi 
cremavit'  (Valer.  Max.  I.  i.  'de  Religione,'  12). 
And  the  reason  assigned  by  Valerius  Maximus 
applies  equally  to  the  history  of  Christian  divina- 
tion : 

'  Noluerunt  enim  prisci  viri  quicquam  in  hac  asaervari  civi- 
tate,  quo  animi  hominum  a  deorum  cultu  avocarentur '  (Valer. 
Max.  lb.). 

And  St.  Augustine,  although  he  himself  confesses 
that  the  turning-point  in  his  life  was  the  opening 
of  the  'Codex  Apostoli'  at  the  words  (Ko  13'3) 
'  non  in  comessationibus  et  ebrietatibus '  (Conf. 
viii.  12),  deprecates  the  practice  : 

'  Hi  vero  qui  de  paginis  evangelicis  sortes  legunt,  et  si  op- 
tandum  est  ut  hoc  potius  faciant,  quaui  ad  daemonia  consulenda 
concurrant ;  tamen  etiam  iata  mihi  diaplicet  consuetudo '  (ad 
inquisitivnes  Januarii  (Ep.  lv.  i.  20]). 

2.  Rabanus  Maurus  (t  856)  sums  up  the  practice 
of  divination  in  the  early  ages  of  the  Church  in  his 
treatise  de  Magorum  Prwstigiis,  collected  from 
various  passages  in  Augustine  and  Isidore  of 
Seville,  and  quoted  in  the  Decretum  of  Gratian 
under  the  name  of  Augustine  (Corp.  Jur.  Can. 
pt.  i.  p.  1024).  On  the  authority  of  Varro,  divina- 
tion was  of  four  kinds  :  '  geomanticam,  ydromanti- 
cam,  aeromanticam,  pyromanticam.' 

Geomantia  is  defined  as  '  ars  e  terra  vaticinandi ' 
(Ducange,  Gloss,  ad  Script,  med.  et  inf.  Lat.).  It  is 
recorded  that  the  resistance  of  Padua  to  the  arms 
of  Eccelino  de  Romano  in  1226  was  foretold  by 
this  practice : 

'  quidam  de  carceratis  aollicite  perquirebant  per  aortes,  ad  quem 
flnem  vester  exercitus  deveniret.  Et  unus  per  puncta  quaedam 
unius  artis,  quam  dicunt  neacioquam  Geomantiam,  dicere  vide- 
batur,  quod  Padua  non  poterat  hiia  temporibus  capi '  (Rolandini 
Patavini,  de  factis  in  Marckia  Tarvisina,  x.  11,  ap.  Muratori, 
Rer.  Ital.  Script,  Milan,  1726,  viii.  319).  The  same  chronicler 
refers  to  it  again  in  the  preparation  made  by  Eccelino  for  his  last 
campaign  in  1259  (ib.  xii.  2). 

Hydromantia  is  described  by  Augustine,  in  refer- 
ence to  Numa,  as  an  act  of  divining  by  water  : 
'  ut  in  aqua  videret  imagines  deorum,  vel  potius  ludificationes 
daemonum,  a  quibua  audiret  quid  in  sacria  constituere  atque 
observare  deberet '  (de  Civ.  Dei,  vii.  35). 
This  practice  still  survives  in  the  water  of  silence 
and  other  ceremonies  associated  with  Christmas 
Eve,  Hallowe'en,  St.  Mark's  Eve,  and  Midsummer 
Eve.  A  love-couplet  quoted  by  Abbott  from 
Salonica  illustrates  the  practice  : 

'  A  lump  of  gold  shall  I  drop  into  the  well, 

That  the  water  may  grow  clear,  and  I  may  see  my  husband 
that  is  to  be '  (Macedonian  Folk-lore,  pp.  51-57). 

Aeromantia  is  another  practice  of  divination 
which,  under  the  form  of  weather-signs,  survives 
to-day. 

Pyromantia  has  also  its  innocent  adepts  in  the 
present  day.  Some  see  faces  in  the  fire,  some  see 
strangers  on  the  bars.  So  in  Macedonia  a  flicker- 
ing in  the  fire,  a  flaring  in  the  candle-flame,  be- 
tokens the  coming  of  a  guest  (Abbott,  p.  98). 

Rabanus,  again  quoting  Isidore  of  Seville  (Etym. 
viii.  9),  says  :  '  duo  sunt  autem  genera  divinationis  : 
ars  et  furor.'  Under  '  ars '  are  the  various  methods 
of  art  magic  which  are  practised  by  the  diviner  ; 
under  '  furor '  the  enthusiasm  and  ecstasy  and 
frenzy  which  form  the  atmosphere  most  conducive 
to  divination.  The  ecstatic  condition  may  still  be 
found,  not  only  among  the  dervishes  of  the  East, 
but  in  some  professedly  Christian  sects  in  the  West. 
Authority  alone  can  exercise  the  control  both  in 
the  practice  of  spiritual  art  and  in  the  frenzy  of 
the  religious  devotee. 

Among  the  professors  of  divination  referred  to 
in  the  literature  of  the  Church  are  incantatores, 
arioli,  aruspices,  augures,  astrologi,  genethliaci, 
mathematici,  horoscopi,  sortilegi,  salisatores  (Isid. 
viii.  9).  The  incantttor  divined  by  means  of  spells 
or  incantations.     He  claimed  to  cure  diseases,  to 


bless  or  curse  the  crops,  to  influence  the  weather. 
Constantino  in  321  endeavoured  to  control  the 
practice  by  law  (Cod.  Theod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  xvi.  3). 
The  interpretation  of  this  law  reads  : 

'  Malefici,  vel  incantatores,  vel  immissores  tempestatum,  vel 
hii  qui  per  invocationem  daemonum  mentea  hominum  turbant. 
omni  genere  poenae  puniantur.' 

In  the  words  of  Pliny  (HN  xxviii.  2),  such  spells 
were  an  insult  to  human  wisdom  :  '  viritim  sapient- 
issimi  cujusque  respuit  fides.'  The  writings  of  the 
Fathers,  the  canons  of  the  Church,  and  the  experi- 
ence of  our  times  prove  how  great  a  hold  such 
practices  have  even  among  those  who  profess  Chris- 
tianity. It  is  to  them  that  St.  Paul  alludes  in 
Gal  3'  '  O  foolish  Galatians,  who  hath  bewitched 
you?'  Liddell  and  Scott  {s.v.  flao-nalvo)),  quoting 
Theocritus,  write :  '  The  charm  was  broken  by 
spitting  thrice'  (Theoc.  vi.  39).  The  tempestarii, 
storm-raisers  or  storm-quellers,  are  constantly  re- 
ferred to  in  the  canons,  the  capitularies,  and  pozni- 
tentiaria  of  the  Councils,  the  Emperors,  and  the 
Bishops  (Ducange,  Gloss.,  s.v.  'Tempestarii').  In 
Ireland  such  charms  have  been  grafted  into  the 
religious  customs  of  the  people  (Wood-Martin, 
Elder  Faiths  of  Ireland,  ii.  104-108).  A  spell 
against  whirlwinds  in  Macedonia  is  this :  '  Alex- 
ander the  Great  liveth,  aye  he  doth  live  and  reign.' 
Abbott  (eh.  xiii.)  gives  many  examples  of  such 
spells  and  incantations. 

The  arioli  were  those  who  circled  round  the  idol 
altars,  uttering  prayers,  and  making  unhallowed 
offerings : 

'  Arioli  vocati,  propter  quod  circa  araa  idolorum  nefariaa 
precea  emittunt,  et  funeeta  sacrificia  offerunt '  (Isid.  viii.  9). 
A  law  of  357  condemns  the  practice,  and  rebukes 
the  curiosity  which  encourages  divination  :  '  Sileat 
omnibus  perpetuo  divinandi  curiositas'  [Cod. 
Theod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  xvi.  4).  The  object  of  the  rites 
of  the  arioli  was  to  receive  some  response.  This 
practice  of  'raising  the  devil'  is  referred  to  by 
Tertullian  : 

'  qui  aria  inhalantea  numen  de  nidore  concipiunt,  qui  ructando 
curantur,  qui  anhelando  praefantur '  (Apol.  23). 
There  may  be  some  survival  of  this  rite  in  the 
Desiul,  or  '  Holy  round,'  a  circling  sunwise  round  a 
rude  stone  monument  or  a  well,  and  in  the  Tuapholl, 
or  '  Unholy  round,'  which  brings  a  curse.  This 
cursing  round  was  accompanied  with  incantations 
and  the  casting  of  cursing  stones  on  the  altar 
(Wood-Martin,  ii.  51-57).  The  '  peccatum  ario- 
landi '  is  condemned  with  the  '  scelus  idolatriae '  in 
an  Epistle  of  Stephen  of  Tournay  (Ep.  120,  ap. 
Ducange,  Gloss.). 

The  aruspices  are  referred  to  in  the  laws  of 
Constantine  in  319  (Cod.  Theod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  xvi. 
1-2).  The  aruspex  divined  by  means  of  inspecting 
the  entrails  of  a  victim  offered  in  sacrifice.  The 
decree  does  not  destroy,  but  only  regulates  their 
practice.  The  aruspex  must  not  go  into  private 
houses.  He  must  be  consulted  only  in  the  temple  : 
'  aras  publicas  adque  delubra ' ;  and  in  the  open 
light :  '  libera  luce  tractari.'  '  Superstitioni  enim 
suae  servire  cupientes,  poterunt  publice  ritum 
proprium  exercere.'  The  Empire  as  well  as  the 
Church  recognized  the  importance  of  keeping  the 
practice  of  divination  under  control. 

This  practice  still  survives.  The  use  of  the 
shoulder-blade  in  divination  is  an  art  in  itself, 
known  as  omoplatoscopy.  The  colour,  the  spots, 
the  lines  are  all  read  by  the  expert.  The  breast- 
bone of  the  fowl  is  used  for  the  same  purpose. 
This  art  flourishes  still  in  Western  Macedonia  and 
Albania.  In  England  the  practice  is  remembered 
in  the  reading  of  the  speal-bone.  The  breaking  of 
the  '  wishing-bone,'  which  many  of  us  remember  as 
a  solemn  diversion  of  our  childhood,  as  enjoyable 
almost  as  the  feasting  on  the  fowl,  is  also  to  be 
traced  to  the  same  source.  ThiB  use  of  the  '  merry- 
thought' is  derived  from  the  ancient  use  of  the 


790 


DIVINATION  (Christian) 


cock  in  divination  (Abbott,  p.  97  f.  ;  Wood-Martin, 
p.  141). 

Augury  was  of  two  kinds  :  '  ad  oculos '  and  '  ad 
aures.'  The  divination  was  from  the  flight  or  from 
the  song  of  birds.  It  was  regulated  by  decrees  of 
357  and  358  (God.  Theod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  xvi.  4.  6). 
There  are  many  survivals  of  this  kind  of  divination : 
'  A  whistling  maid  and  a  crowing  hen 
Are  hateful  alike  to  God  and  men.' 
The  crowing  of  a  cock  out  of  hours,  the  hooting  of 
an  owl,  the  cawing  of  a  crow  on  the  house-top,  are 
all  regarded  as  uncanny.  The  pigeons  which  fre- 
quent the  mosque  of  Bajesid  in  Constantinople  and 
the  Piazza  of  St.  Mark's  at  Venice  are  looked  on 
as  birds  of  good  omen.  The  geese  in  the  cloister 
of  the  Cathedral  of  Barcelona  may  be  a  survival 
of  the  geese  kept  in  old  time  in  the  Roman  temple 
on  the  same  site.  The  series  of  Dove-Bishops  at 
Ravenna  and  the  letting  loose  of  pigeons  at  certain 
festivals,  though  now  associated  with  the  gift  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  have  doubtless  a  more  ancient 
root  in  the  rites  of  divination.  A  certain  Hillidius 
delivered  the  people  of  Vieille-Brionde  from  a  Bur- 
gundian  raid  by  the  leading  of  a  dove  :  '  ut  aiunt, 
commonitione  columbae  alitis  incitatus.'  And 
Gregory  of  Tours  adds : 

'  Quod  ne  quis  invideat  confictum  de  columba,  et  homini 
praestitum  Christiano,  cum  Orosius  consulem  Romanum,  id 
est  Marcum  Valerium,  a  corvo  alite  scribat  adjutum  '  (de  Mir. 
S.  Juliani,  7  ;  Oros.  iii.  6). 

The  magpie  in  England  is  still  greeted  with  the 
rhyme : 

'  One  for  sorrow,  two  for  mirth, 
Three  for  a  wedding,  and  four  for  a  birth.' 
And  the  flight  to  right  or  left  is  a  survival  of  the 
augury  'ad  oculos.'  The  swan  was  sacred  to  the 
children  of  Llyr.  The  word  drean,  '  wren,'  is  in 
Cormac's  Glossary  explained  as  '  Dra6i-en,  a  Druid 
bird,  a  bird  that  makes  a  prediction.'  He  was  the 
'  magus  avium '  in  Irish  hagiology.  The  stork,  the 
starling,  and  the  swallow  also  have  their  place  in 
the  folklore  of  divination.  '  A  dove  from  heaven ' 
protected  St.  Moling  at  his  birth. 

'A  madman  and  a  fox  (lived  with  him),  also  a  wren  and  a 
little  fly  that  used  to  buzz  to  him  when  he  came  from  matins, 
till  the  wren  hopped  on  it  and  killed  it ;  and  this  killing  by  the 
wren  was  displeasing  to  him,  so  he  cursed  the  wren,  and  said  : 
"My  fly.  .  .  .  Howbeit,"  says  Moling,  "  but  he  that  marred  for 
me  the  poor  pet  that  used  to  be  making  music  for  me,  let  his 
dwelling  be  for  ever  in  empty  houses,  with  a  wet  drip  therein 
continually.  And  may  children  and  youDg  persons  be  destroy- 
ing him  ! "  Howbeit  then,  but  the  wren  killed  the  fly.  Then 
the  fox  killed  the  wren.  The  dog  of  the  steading  killed  the  fox. 
A  cowherd  killed  the  madman,  namely,  Suibne  son  of  Colman ' 
(Whitley-Stokes,  The  Birth  and  Life  of  St.  Moling,  Paris,  1906  : 
Wood-Martin,  ii.  140-150 ;  Abbott,  pp.  106-110). 

Rhys  tells  the  story  of  a  bird-warning  associated 
with  the  sunken  palace  of  Bala  Lake  (Celtic  Folk- 
lore, Oxford,  1901,  p.  409).  The  common  saying, 
'A  little  bird  has  whispered  it  in  my  ear,' shows 
the  continuity  of  tradition  as  to  augury.  Wood- 
Martin  (ii.  143)  gives  a  picture  of  a  bronze  instru- 
ment with  bird  ornaments,  found  in  a  bog  near 
Ballymoney,  Co.  Antrim,  which  has  been  thought 
by  some  to  be  a  divining-rod.  It  is  not  earlier 
than  the  6th  century. 

The  astrologi,  genethliaci,  and  mathematici  were 
all  adepts  in  divination  by  means  of  the  study  of 
the  stars.  The  term  mathematici  was  a  common 
one  in  the  4th  cent.  :  '  quos  vulgus  mathematicos 
vocat '  (Jerome,  Com.  in  Dan.  c.  ii.  2).  So  also  in 
the  1st  cent.  (Didache,  c.  3).  St.  Augustine  has 
frequent  references  to  them  :  '  Jam  etiam  mathe- 
maticorum  fallaees  divinationes,  et  impia  delira- 
menta  rejeceram '  (Conf.  vii.  6).  The  title  of  the 
Theodosian  Code,  under  which  the  practices  of 
divination  are  regulated,  is :  '  de  Maleficis  et 
Mathematicis.'  They  are  specially  mentioned  in 
edicts  of  357,  358,  370,  or  373.  A  decree  of 
Honorius  and  Theodosius  in  409  reads : 

'  Mathematicos,  nisi  parati  aint,  codicibus  erroris  proprii  sub 
oculis  Episcoporum  incendio  concrematis,  Catholieae  Religi- 


onis  cultui  ndem  tradere,  nunquam  ad  errorem  praeteritum 
redituri,  non  solum  urbe  Roma,  sed  etiam  omnibus  civitatibua 
pelli  decernimus '  (Cod.  Theod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  xvi.  12). 

The  horoscope  had  an  important  place  in  the 
divination  of  the  mathematici  and  genethliaci. 
Isidore  of  Seville  writes :  '  Horoscopi  dicti,  quod 
horas  nativitatis  hominum  speculantur  dissimili 
et  diverso  fato '  (Etym.  viii.  9).  In  the  Morocco 
crisis  of  1911,  a  heading  in  the  Standard  of  July 
28,  '  The  Kaiser's  Horoscope,'  shows  that  there  are 
still  some  who  attach  meaning  to  these  practices. 

The  sortilegi  were  those  who  divined  by  lot  or 
by  the  chance  opening  either  of  the  Scriptures  or 
of  Virgil : 

'  qui  sub  nomine  fictae  religionis  per  quasdam,  quas  sanctorum 
sortes  vocant,  divinationis  scientiam  profitentur,  aut  quarum- 
cunque  scripturarum  inspectione  futura  promittunt'  (Isid. 
viii.  9). 

The  sortes  Sanctorum  were  similar  to  the  sortes 
Vergilianoe  (ap.  Spartian.  Vit.  Mad.  5).  Severus 
is  said  to  have  read  his  destiny  in  the  line  : 

'  Tu  regere  imperio  populos,  Romane,  memento.' 
Sometimes  the  answer  was  obtained  by  opening 
the  book  at  random,  sometimes  by  pricking  the 
text  with  a  pin.  The  practice  was  not  regulated 
by  the  Theodosian  Code.  It  was  forbidden  in  a 
capitulare  generate  of  789  : 

'  De  tabulis  vel  codicibus  requirendis.  Et  ut  nullus  in  psal- 
terio  vel  in  evangelio,  vel  in  aliis  rebus,  sortiri  praesumat,  nee 
divinationes  aliquas  observare '  (Op.  Carol.  Magn.  [Migne,  PL 
xcvii.  187]). 

The  method  of  the  sortes  Sanctorum  is  given  in 
a  Life  of  St.  Hubert  of  Liege  (c.  714).  After  a  fast 
of  three  days,  two  books  were  placed  on  the  altar 
— a  Book  of  the  Gospels  and  a  Sacramentary : 

'  Reseratum  autem  Evangeliuni  hanc  primum  legenti  senten- 
tiam  obtulit :  Ne  timeas,  Maria ;  invenisti  enim  gratiam  apud 
Dominum.  Liber  etiam  Sacramentorum  in  sui  apertione  hoc 
primum  videnti  objecit :  Dirige  viam  famuli  tui '  (ib.  p.  188, 
note). 

The  election  of  St.  Martin  to  the  Bishopric  of 
Tours  was  decided  by  such  a  use  of  the  Psalter  : 

'Unus  e  circumstantibus,  sumto  psalterio,  quern  primum 
versum  invenit,  arripuit.  Psalmus  autem  hie  erat :  Ex  ore 
infantium  et  lactantium.  .  .  .'(Sulp.  Sev.,  de  Vita  S.  Martini, 
ch.  9). 

The  open  practice  of  this  mode  of  divination  in  the 
Church  is  illustrated  on  the  occasion  of  the  visit 
of  Chramnus  to  Dijon  (c.  556).  The  clergy  deter- 
mined to  tell  his  fortune  from  each  of  the  three 
Lections  of  the  Gallican  Mass  : 

1  Positis  clerici  tribus  libris  super  altarium,  id  est  Prophetiae, 
Apostoli,  atque  Evangeliorum,  oraverunt  ad  Dominum,  ui 
Ohramno  quid  eveniret  ostenderet.'  The  three  readings  are 
then  given  (Greg.  Tur.,  Hist.  Franc,  iv.  16). 
In  another  case,  three  books  were  placed  on  the 
tomb  of  St.  Martin  : 

'  id  eBt  Psalterii,  Regum,  Evangeliorum :  et  vigilans  tota  nocte 
petiit  ut  sibi  beatus  confessor  quid  eveniret  ostenderet.'  This 
was  in  677  (t&.  v.  14). 

The  practice  of  learning  by  such  means  the  char- 
acter and  administration  of  a  newly  elected  Bishop 
became  in  early  times  an  established  Church  cus- 
tom. Ducange,  in  his  Glossarium  (s.v.  '  Sortes 
Sanctorum '),  gives  illustrations  from  the  Lives  of 
Anianus  of  Orleans,  Lanfranc,  and  others.  It  was 
known  as  the  Prognosticon. 

Another  form  of  divination  was  also  practised, 
known  as  sortes  per  brevia.  In  cases  of  doubt, 
papers  were  drawn,  and  the  lot  thus  taken.  In 
the  Chronicle  of  Gambrai,  it  is  recorded  that  the 
Bishops  of  Poitiers,  Autun,  and  Arras  claimed  the 
body  of  St.  Leger.  The  lot  fell  to  the  Bishop  of 
Poitiers : 

'  tribus  Epistolis,  horum  trium  nominibus  subscriptis,  et  confuse 
sub  palla  altaris  obtectis,  factaque  in  commune  oratione,  Picta- 
vensi  Episcopo  ex  indiciis  sanctum  corpus  deberi  declaratum 
est '  (ib.). 

In  Spain  a  similar  kind  of  divination  was  known 
as  ensalmos  or  inpsalmum.  The  sortes  Aposto- 
lorum  was  a  collection  of  pious  sayings  drawn  up 
for  this  purpose.     At  the  end  are  these  words  : 

'  Haec  sunt  Sortes  Sanctorum  quae  nunquam  falluntur,  neque 
mentiuntur :  id  est,  Deum  roga  et  obtinebis  quod  cupis.  Ag« 
Ei  gratias  '  (Smith-Cheetham,  DC  A,  art  '  Sortilegy '). 


DIVINATION  (Christian) 


791 


Charles  Simeon  sought  for  comfort  in  this  way  : 

'  It  was  not  (or  direction  I  was  looking:,  for  I  am  no  friend  to 
such  superstitions  aa  the  Sortes  Virgilianx,  but  only  for  sup- 
port. The  first  text  that  caught  my  eye  was  Matt,  xxvii.  32* 
(Chambers's  Encycl.,  art.  '  Sortes  Virgilianai '). 

There  is  also  a  reference  to  the  use  of  rods  in  the 
casting  of  lots  in  the  Lex  Frisionum  (tit.  14.  1,  ap. 
Ducange,  s.v.  '  Tenus ') : 

'  Tunc  unusquisque  illorum  septem  faciat  suam  sortem,  id  est, 
tenum  de  virga.' 

This  kind  of  rhabdomancy  was  condemned  by  the 
Council  of  Auxerre  in  578  : 

1  non  licet  ad  sortileges  vel  ad  auguria  respicere,  nee  ad  sortes, 
quas  Sanctorum  vocant,  vel  quas  de  ligno  aut  de  pane  faciunt 
aspicere.1 

The  sors  de  pane  refers  to  purgation  by  bread. 
The  guilt  or  innocence  of  an  accused  was  tested  by 
the  eating  of  bread.     It  was  known  as  corsned  : 

'  Si  quis  altari  ministrantium  accusetur,  et  amicis  destitutus 
sit  .  .  .  vadat  ad  judicium,  quod  Anglice  dicitur  Coraned,  et 
fiat,  sicut  Deus  velit'  (Leges  Kanuti  Regis,  cap.  6,  ap.  Bromp- 
tonum  ;  Ducange,  s.v.  'Corsned'). 

The  salisatores  were  those  who  divined  by 
leaping : 

'  quia  dum  eis  membrorum  quaecunque  partes  salierint,  aliquid 
Bibi  exinde  prosperum  seu  triste  significare  praedicunt '  (Isid. 
viii.  9). 

It  would  also  refer  to  what  is  popularly  known 
as  the  'jumps,'  a  twitching  in  the  body.  St. 
Augustine  refers  to  it :  '  His  adjunguntur  millia 
inanissimarum  observationum,  si  membrum  ali- 
quod  salierit'  (de  Doctr.  Chr.  ii.  20).  There  may 
be  a  trace  of  this  in  the  Life  of  St.  Moling  : 

'The  cleric  said  to  the  Spectre  :  "Grant  me  a  boon"  .  .  . 
Then  he  bound  that  boon  on  the  Spectre's  hand.  Thereafter 
he  leapt  his  three  steps  of  pilgrimage  and  his  three  leaps  of 
folly.  The  first  leap  that  he  leapt,  he  seemed  to  them  no 
more  than  a  crow  on  the  top  of  a  hill.  The  second  leap  that 
he  leapt,  they  saw  him  not  at  all.  .  .  .  But  the  third  leap  that 
he  leapt,  'tis  then  he  alighted  on  the  Btone-wall  of  the  church 
.  .  .  then  he  leapt  from  the  stone-wall,  and  reached  the  church, 
and  sat  in  his  place  of  prayer.  .  .  .  After  that  he  looked  at  the 
boy,  and  thus  he  was,  with  the  glow  of  the  anger  and  the  fire 
on  him,  and  the  radiance  of  the  Godhead  in  his  countenance ' 
^Whitley-Stokes,  p.  16 f.). 

3.  Primitive  Christianity  would  seem  to  have 
been  more  tolerant  of  divination  than  the  more 
developed  Catholic  Christianity  of  the  West.  The 
evidence  of  the  books  of  the  NT  points  to  this 
difference.  It  is  in  St.  Matthew's  Gospel  alone 
that  the  Star  is  recorded  (22),  and  that  dreams  are 
referred  to  as  a  means  of  revelation.  The  dreams 
of  Joseph  (l20  212- IS- 19-  22)  and  the  dream  of  Pilate's 
wife  (2719)  are  an  echo  of  the  early  belief  in  this 
form  of  divination  in  the  Jewish-Christian  Church. 
The  only  instance  of  the  Divine  lot  is  in  the  cradle 
of  Christianity  at  Jerusalem,  in  the  choice  of  St. 
Matthias  (Ac  l26).  In  the  extension  of  Christian- 
ity the  Gospel  triumphs  over  divination.  Simon 
the  Sorcerer  of  Samaria  (Ac  89),  Elymas  the  Sor- 
cerer of  Cyprus  (136),  the  woman  with  the  spirit 
of  divination  at  Philippi  (1616),  the  sorcerers  of 
Ephesus  (1919),  stand  condemned  in  the  records  of 
the  early  mission  outside  Judeea.  Occultism  gives 
way  before  Sacramentalism,  although  faint  traces 
of  the  primitive  faith  are  recognizable  in  the  stories 
of  the  '  shadow  of  Peter '  (Ac  515),  the  handker- 
chiefs from  the  body  of  Paul  (1912),  and  the  trances 
of  Peter  (1010)  and  Paul  (2217,  2  Co  122).  Witch- 
craft under  the  form  of  <papfj.an.ela  is  condemned  in 
Gal  520,  Rev  921  1823  218  2215. 

In  the  sub- Apostolic  ages  there  are  a  few  refer- 
ences to  the  practice  of  divination.  The  Epistle  of 
Barnabas  links  together  p.ayela  and  <papiAaKela 
(xx.  1).  St.  Ignatius  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Ephe- 
sians  also  refers  to  iiayeia,  and  speaks  of  the  one 
Bread  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament  as  the  <pdpp.aKov 
dflavatrtas  (xix.  2,  xx.  2).  Hermas  calls  a  p-avrela 
a  heathen  practice  (Mand.  xi.  4).  The  Didache 
forbids  it  :  oi>  fiayevo-eis,  ou  <papp.aKe6aet.s  (c.  2) ;  and 
again :  t<-kvov  fj.ov,  lit]  yivov  omvookoitos  .  .  .  fnjdt 
£-jraot.5bs  fj.f]de  tiad-qixaTiKbs  (c.  3).  If  the  '  Two 
Ways'  is  an  early  Jewish-Christian  document, 
this  straight   teaching  against  augury,   incanta- 


tion, and  astrology  implies  a  continuance  of  the 
practice  among  Eastern  Christians. 

This  is  supported  by  the  evidence  of  Irenteus  at 
the  end  of  the  2nd  century.  The  magical  arts  of 
Marcus  coloured  his  sacramental  rites  as  well  as 
his  teaching  (c.  Hcer.  I.  xiii.).  The  followers  of 
Simon  Magus  would  appear  to  have  grafted  his 
magic  into  their  Christianity. 

'  Igitur  horum  mystici  sacerdotes  libidinose  quidem  vivunt, 
magias  autem  pernciunt.  .  .  .  Exorcismis  et  incantationibus 
utuntur.  Amatoria  quoque  et  agogima,  et  qui  dicuntur  paredri 
et  oniropompi,  et  quaecunque  sunt  aha  perierga  apud  eoa 
studiose  exercentur '  (ib.  xxiii.  4). 

The  followers  of  Carpocrates  practised  the  same 
art : 

'Artes  enim  magicas  operantur  et  ipsi,  et   incantationes, 
philtra  quoque  et  charitesia,  et  paredros,  et  oniropompOB  .  . 
(ib.  xxv.  3). 

Dreams  are  here  included  with  incantations  and 
philtres. 

Tertullian  in  his  de  Anima  (c.  209-214)  regards 
divination  as  a  faculty  of  the  soul : 

'  Dedimus  enim  illi  .  .  .  et  dominationem  rerum,  et  divina- 
tionem  .  .  .  Definimus  animam  .  .  .  dominatricem,  divina- 
tricem '  (ch.  22). 

Dreams  may  be  '  peculiare  solatium  natnralis 
oraculi '  {ib.  46),  but  he  points  out  their  danger  : 

'  Definimus  enim  a  daemoniis  plurimum  incuti  somnia,  etsi 
interdum  vera  et  gratiosa,  sed,  de  qua  industria  diximus, 
affectantia  atque  captantia,  quanto  magis  vena  et  frustratoria 
et  turbida  et  ludibriosa  et  immunda '  (ib.  47). 

And  of  the  magical  arts  in  brief :  '  Quid  ergo 
dicemus  magiam  ?  quod  omnes  paene  fallaciam ' 
(ib.  57).  This  he  wrote  as  a  Montanist.  As  a 
Catholic  (c.  197),  in  reply  to  a  charge  '  de  sterili- 
tate  Christianorum,'  he  numbers  among  the  critics 
of  the  Church  '  magi,  item  aruspices,  arioli,  mathe- 
matici'  (Apol.  43). 

Clement  of  Alexandria  refers  to  the  practice 
of  divination  among  the  Germans.  There  were 
women  among  them  who  could  foretell  the  future 
by  looking  into  the  whirlpools  and  currents  and 
eddies  of  a  river  (Strom,  i.  15).  '  The  inventors 
of  these  arts  as  well  as  of  philosophy  were  nearly 
all  Barbarians '  (ib.  i.  16).  Origen  more  than  once 
speaks  of  divination  as  a  snare  to  the  Christians  of 
Egypt : 

'  Haec  ergo  omnia,  id  est,  sive  auguratio,  Bive  extispicium, 
sive  quaelibet  immolatio,  sive  etiam  sortitio,  aut  quicunque 
motus  avium,  vel  pecudum,  vel  inspectio  quaecunque  flbrarum, 
ut  aliquid  de  futuris  videantur  ostendere,  in  operatione 
daemonum  fieri  non  dubito  '  (in  Num.,  hom.  xvi.  7).  He  calls 
the  '  opprobrium  Aegypti '  of  his  day  '  observare  auguria, 
requirere  stellarum  cursus,  et  eventus  ex  iis  futurorum  rimari, 
servare  somnia  caeterisque  hujusmodi  superstitionibus  impli- 
cari.  Idololatriae  namque  mater  est  Aegyptus '  (in  Libr.  Jes. 
Nave,  hom.  v.  6). 

The  inscriptions  of  Eumeneia  in  the  3rd  cent, 
show  that  the  city  was  to  a  large  extent  Christian. 
But,  as  it  was  necessary  to  keep  up  the  forms  of 
the  national  religion,  and  as  the  '  courtesies  of 
society  and  ordinary  life,  as  well  as  of  municipal 
administration,  had  a  non-Christian  form,'  the 
'  spirit  of  accommodation  '  must  have  ruled  in  the 
religious  life  of  the  citizens  (Ramsay,  Cities  and 
Bishoprics  of  Phrygia,  vol.  ii.,  Oxford,  1897,  p. 
504).  The  disciplinary  canons  of  the  Synod  of 
Ancyra  in  314  are  an  echo  of  this  '  spirit  of  ac- 
commodation' of  an  early  age.  The  4th  cent, 
tightened  the  reins  of  discipline  as  well  as  the 
definitions  of  the  faith.  The  practice  of  divination 
was  condemned  by  canon  xxiii.  (al.  xxiv.) : 

'  Qui  divinationes  expetunt,  et  morem  gentilium  subsecuntur 
.  .  .  sub  regula  quinquennii  jaceant'  (Decret.p.  ii.  caus.  xxvi. 
qu.  v.  2). 

The  same  need  of  discipline  was  recognized  in 
the  far  West.  The  Synod  of  Eliberis  (Granada) 
in  Spain  (between  314  and  324),  in  addition  to 
many  canons  against  idolatrous  rites,  has  one 
canon  forbidding  women  to  frequent  cemeteries : 
'  ne  feminae  in  coemeterio  pervigilent '  (can. 
xxxv.).  St.  Jerome  refers  to  the  custom  of  re- 
sorting to  cemeteries  as  a  means  of  divining  with 
the  dead : 


792 


DIVINATION  (Egyptian) 


*sed  sedens  quoque,  vel  habitans  in  sepulchris,  et  in  delubris 
idoloruni  dormiens ;  ubi  sfcratis  pellibus  hostiarum  incubare 
soliti  erant,  ut  somniis  f utura  cognoscerent '  (in  Is.  654). 

The  clergy  were  forbidden  to  practise  divination 
by  the  Synod  of  Laodicea  (c.  343-381)  : 
*  non  oportet  sacris    nitidis    deditos  vel    clericos  magos   aut 
incantatores  existere,  aut  facere  pbilacteria '  (can.  30,  ap.  Decret. 
p.  ii.  caus.  xxvi.  qu.  v.  4). 

Priscillian  and  his  followers  were  accused  of 
practising  astrology.  And  his  writings  give  some 
grounds  for  the  accusation,  though  he  clearly  states 
how  far  he  thought  it  right  to  go  : 

'  Adtendi  autem  lunaris  ideo  cursus  jubetur,  non  ut  in  eo 
observatio  rehgionis  sit,  sed  quia  in  ea  quae  videntur  omnia 
homo  vincitur  et  germana  aelementis  caro  .  .  .'  (Priscill.  Op., 
ed.  Schepss,  1889,  p.  78.  3  3.;  cf.  F.  Paret,  Prise.  1894,  p.  144). 

The  Church  of  the  4th  cent,  was  weakened  by 
this  '  curiosity '  in  the  matter  of  divination,  it 
had  difficulty  in  detaching  itself  from  the  practice 
of  the  magical  arts.  At  the  close  of  the  century 
Nicetas  of  Remesiana,  a  prominent  Bishop  of  the 
old  Latin  Church  of  the  Danube,  writes  : 
'abrenuntiat  inimico  et  angelis  ejus,  id  est,  universae  magicae 
curiositati  .  .  .  renuntiat  et  operibus  ejus  malis,  id  est,  culturis 
et  idolis,  sortibus  et  auguriis  .  .  .'  (Niceta,  ed.  A.  E.  Burn, 
Cambridge,  1905,  de  Symbolo,  c.  1). 

The  Gallican  Church  seems  to  have  been  troubled 
by  this  curiosity  in  magic.  It  is  referred  to  in  the 
canons  of  Agde  (506),  Orleans  (511),  and  Vannes 
(461  or  465).  In  a  canon  of  the  Synod  of  Auxerre 
(578),  in  addition  to  the  auguria  and  sortes 
Sanctorum,  mention  is  made  of  characteres. 
These  were  of  the  nature  of  charms : 

'Phylacteria  et  Characteres  diabolicos  nee  sibi  nee  suis 
aliquando  suspendant,  incantatores  velut  ministros  diaboli 
fugiant'  (Aug.  de  Temp.,  senn.  163,  ap.  Ducange,  Glossar.). 

The  Church  of  Spain  also  regulated  the  practice 
of  divination.  It  is  condemned  in  the  capitula  of 
Martin  of  Bracara  (c.  72),  and  in  can.  30  of  the 
Council  of  Toledo  in  633.  But  it  survived  through- 
out the  West,  and  in  the  Carolingian  Renaissance 
of  discipline  it  required  stringent  treatment.  In 
the  Decretals  of  Gratian  is  a  long  extract  from  an 
unpublished  capitulary  which  illustrates  its  danger 
under  the  Frank  Empire  : 

'Episcopi  eorumque  ministri  omnibus  viribus  elaborare 
fitudeant,  ut  pernieiosam  et  a  zabulo  inventam  sortilegam  et 
magicam  artem  ex  parrochiis  suis  penitus  eradicent '  (Deer. 
p.  ii.  caus.  xxvi.  qu.  v.  12). 

The  Church  of  Rome  expressed  the  judgment  of 
the  whole  Church  in  the  Council  of  721  under 
Gregory  II.  : 

'  Si  quis  ariolos,  aruspices  vel  incantatores  observaverit,  aut 
philacteriis  usus  f  uerit,  anathema  sit '  (ib.  qu.  v.  1). 

Literature. — Corpus  Juris  Canonici,  ed.  Friedberg,  1879 ; 
Codex  Tkeodosianus,  ed.  Gothofred,  1736 ;  Ducange,  Glossar. 
ad  Scriptores  medice  et  injvmce  Latinitatis,  1733 ;  Smith- 
Cheetham,  DCA,  1875;  Chambers,  Eneye.,  1889;  G.  F. 
Abbott,  Macedonian  Folklore,  Cambridge,  1903 ;  W.  G. 
Wood-Martin,  Traces  of  the  Elder  Faiths  of  Ireland,  London, 
1902.  T.  BAENS. 

DIVINATION  (Egyptian).— From  more  than 
one  point  of  view  it  seems  impossible  to  bring 
Egyptian  divination  under  the  classifications  in 
general  use  in  the  study  of  mantics ;  we  cannot 
make  either  the  ordinary  definitions,  or  the  pur- 
pose, or  even — to  a  certain  extent — the  means  em- 
ployed fit  in  exactly.  In  fact,  in  this  study,  as  in 
so  many  others,  the  Egyptians  made  no  attempt 
to  formulate  a  theory,  or  even  to  lay  down 
general  principles.  In  Egypt  we  find  nothing 
corresponding  to  the  didactic  treatises  on  mantics 
composed  by  the  Chaldseans  and  by  the  Hellenic 
world,  nothing  like  the  prodigious  variety  of 
means  of  divination  of  the  Assyrians  and  Greeks, 
including  the  observation  of  almost  every  pheno- 
menon of  Nature,  beings,  and  things.  The  ob- 
servation of  the  ordinary  aspects  of  the  sky  is 
confined  to  the  realm  of  astrology  ;  its  unusual 
aspects  (meteors,  shooting  stars,  comets,  zodiacal 
light,  eclipses)  are  explained  in  advance  by  myth- 
ology, and  do  not  require  an  interpretation  from 
actual  divination.     There  is  no  mention  of  the 


mantics  of  rain,  winds,  clouds,  or  smoke,  etc.,  in 
the  Egyptian  texts,  or  of  the  twenty  kinds  of 
hydroinancy,  or  of  divination  by  '  palmistry.'  In 
connexion  with  living  creatures  there  is  no  ritual 
study  of  the  movements  or  appearances  of  animals 
(ornithoscopy,  ichthyoscopy,  etc.) ;  nor  do  we  meet 
with  haruspiey,1  extispiey,  or  teratoscopy.  There 
are  no  evidences  in  the  Egyptian  texts  or  monu- 
ments of  cledonomancy,  libanomancy,  rhabdo- 
mancy,  axinomancy,  clairomancy,  lithoboly,  belo- 
mancy,  knuckle-bones,  dice,  divining-rods,  or, 
indeed,  of  any  of  the  means  of  inquiry  by  the 
production  of  phenomena  for  interpretation. 

When  we  apply  to  Egypt  the  classifications  in 
general  use  for  the  mantics  of  other  peoples,  we 
find  a  certain  number  of  divinatory  processes  men- 
tioned by  the  ancient  Greek  and  Roman  authors, 
about  which,  however,  it  is  very  important  to 
observe:  (1)  that  they  are  of  rare  occurrence,  or 
are  employed  only  in  popular  superstitions  and 
not  by  official  divination  ;  and  (2)  that  they  were 
introduced  into  Egypt  at  a  late  date,  under  the 
influence  of  Asia  or  of  the  Hellenic  world. 

To  the  first  class  we  may  assign  the  indications  drawn  from 
the  flight  of  birds  and  encounters  with  serpents ;  e.g.  the 
story  of  Alexander's  expedition  to  the  Great  Oasis.  This  form 
of  divination  possibly  belongs  to  Egypt,  and  the  inscription  ol 
Hammamat  (Erman,  Z A'  xxix.  [1891]  60)  may  be  cited  in  it3 
defence,  in  which  a  gazelle  shows  the  spot  in  the  desert  where 
the  stone  of  the  royal  sarcophagus  is  to  be  set  up.  But  the 
incident  was  related  rather  as  a  miracle,  and  there  is  no  ground 
for  considering  it  a  regular  method  of  divination.  The  use  of 
the  divinatory  vase  seema  equally  unknown  to  the  priests  of 
the  official  cults,  and  the  so-called  magic  consultation  of 
Nectanebo  is  u  legend  of  Greek  origin.  The  divinatory  vase 
certainly  existed  in  Egypt  in  the  last  centuries  of  its  history, 
and  the  demotic  texts  agree  on  this  point  with  the  Grseco- 
Roman  evidences ;  but  it  is  very  probable  that  this  practice 
was  imported  from  Persia,  and  in  any  case  it  was  never  em- 
ployed by  the  court-priests,  but  only  by  magicians. 

Apart  from  the  reference  in  Gn  44°  to  the  divining  cup  of 
Joseph,  which  may  be  a  non-Egyptian  adaptation,  we  know 
from  the  classics  (Plin.  xxxiii.  46 ;  Plutarch,  de  Iside,  lxi., 
Ixiv.;  Horapollo,  i.  39,  etc.)  that  this  was  a  part  of  the  cult  of 
Anubis  in  particular  ;  the  god  was  invoked  by  means  of  a  vase 
full  of  liquid  or  a  flame  ;  and  the  reading  of  the  divinatory 
signs  or  images  was  performed  through  the  medium  of  a  child, 
on  whom  they  worked  by  incantations  and  the  laying  on  of 
hands.  And  thus,  says  Diodorus  (xvii.),  'the  soul  foresees 
future  events  in  the  phantoms  she  herself  creates '  (cf .  Virey, 
Religion  (gyp.,  Paris,  1909,  p.  227,  and  Ermoni,  Religion  (gyp., 
do.  1910,  p.  122).  The  use  of  the  child,  because  of  its  innocence, 
is  a  common  practice  in  all  magic,  and  is  connected  with  the 
universal  belief  in  the  inferiority  of  a  man  who  has  committed 
a  Bin  or  has  had  sexual  connexions,  in  the  struggle  against  the 
spirits.  Lefebure  connects  these  methods  of  divination  of  the 
later  period  with  analogous  practices  occurring  all  over  North 
Africa  (Revue  Africaine,  1905,  no.  257,  p.  211),  and  conjectures 
with  great  probability  (Sphinx,  vi.  [1902]  61)  that  the  material 
process  consisted  in  creating  in  the  child's  brain  phantoms  and 
images  of  Anubis  and  others,  by  means  of  hypnotism  and 
looking  at  a  shining  object.  We  know,  besides,  that  these 
processes  persisted  down  to  our  own  days  in  the  Arabic  world. 

It  is  possible,  then,  to  find  in  Egypt  in  the  last 
centuries  some  of  the  processes  of  divination  of 
the  Mediterranean  and  Chaldgeo-Assyrian  world. 
The  fact  of  their  combination  with  innumerable 
popular  superstitions  tended  to  produce  in  the 
official  cults  a  multitude  of  practices  which  do 
not  really  belong  to  the  history  of  Egyptian 
divination. 

With  the  above  restrictions,  it  appears  that  the 
contents  of  Egyptian  divination  were  essentially 
four :  (1)  the  interpretation  of  dreams  (q.v.),  sought 
or  unsought ;  (2)  the  reading  of  horoscopes  (see 
Stars)  ;  (3)  divinatory  calculations  made  from  the 
position  and  influences  of  the  stars  {q.v.) ;  and  (4) 
the  manifestation,  directly  and  plainly  indicated,  of 
the  will  of  the  gods  themselves.  This  last  branch 
includes  (a)  the  movements  of  the  sacred  animals, 
(6)  the  responses  of  the  'prophetic  statues,'  and  (cj 
the  words  spoken  by  the  gods  in  their  temples, 
i.e.  oracles  properly  so  called. 

(a)  The  first  group  in  the  last  class  seems  to  have 
1  Herodotus  and  some  modern  authorities  have  confused 
veterinary  examination  to  ensure  the  purity  of  sacrificial 
victims  with  examination  for  purposes  of  divination. 


DrVINATION  (Egyptian) 


793 


played  a  very  limited  part.  Consultations  of  the 
bull  Apis  are  known  in  the  classics.  Pliny  (viii. 
71)  and  Amm.  Marcellinus  (xxii.  14)  relate  that 
the  omen  was  good  or  bad  according  as  Apis 
accepted  or  refused  the  food  ottered  by  the  wor- 
shippers, and  that  the  sacred  animal  refused  the 
ottering  of  Germanicus.  They  also  tell  of  pro- 
sperity or  adversity  being  foretold  for  the  country 
according  as  the  bull  chose  to  go  into  one  or  the 
other  of  two  stalls. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  these  superstitions  are  truly  Egyp- 
tian and  very  ancient.  But  it  is  very  doubtful  whether,  at  the 
classical  period,  such  manifestations  were  employed  by  the 
priests  as  means  of  divination  ;  it  is  far  more  probable  that 
they  were  simply  popular  superstitions,  existing  throughout 
all  Egypt  wherever  sacred  animals  were  kept  in  the  temples, 
and  that  what  the  Greeks  and  Romans  tell  of  Apis  happened 
also  in  the  case  of  the  crocodiles  of  Oinbos,  and  the  rams  of 
Elephantine  or  of  Mendes.  It  may  have  been  due  to  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Greeks,  who  were  accustomed  to  give  importance 
to  this  very  type  of  mantics,  that  these  customs  became  em- 
bodied in  the  priestly  cult,  or  at  least  were  given  a  greater 
importance  as  methods  of  divination.  In  fact,  dreams,  astro- 
logy, and,  in  particular,  the  direct  consultation,  in  definite 
language,  of  living  images  of  the  gods,  had  at  an  early  period 
supplied  the  official  religion  of  Egypt  with  methods  of  con- 
sultation far  more  convenient,  more  explicit,  and  more  in 
keeping  with  the  fastidious  genius  of  the  race ;  and  it  is  to 
these  classes  that  nearly  all  the  known  examples  of  Egyptian 
divination  belong. 

(b)  Among  the  most  characteristic  processes  in 
the  consultation  of  statues  is  the  designation  of  the 
Ethiopian  sovereigns  by  the  statue  of  Amon-Ra  at 
Napata.  The  ancient  authors  had  been  struck 
with  it  (see  esp.  the  account  of  Diodorus,  Hi.  5, 
and  a  corrupted  version  in  the  satirical  writings 
of  Synesius  [Works,  French  tr.  by  Druon,  Paris, 
1878,  p.  244]).  The  famous  stela  of  Jebel  Barkal, 
on  which  the  election  of  Aspalut  is  recorded,  is 
the  most  complete  account  of  this  practice  access- 
ible in  the  English  language.  After  a  number  of 
ceremonies,  too  long  to  describe  here  (see  Maspero, 
Boulaq,  pp.  69,  336,  and  Guide  Cairo  Museum, 
ed.  Dec.  1910,  p.  215,  Room  S,  West  Side,  no.  692), 
the  candidates  for  the  throne  were  brought  before 
the  statue  of  the  god,  which  had  been  adjured  to 
make  its  choice  known.  They  filed  past  the  idol, 
which  remained  motionless  until  it  '  seized '  the 
candidate  it  chose.  The  statue  thereupon  declared 
in  formal  terms  that  this  was  the  king.  The  newly- 
elected  monarch  then  entered  the  sanctuary,  and 
was  crowned  by  the  god  himself. 

Recent  Egyptological  discoveries  show  that  all  the  traits  of 
this  curious  ceremonial  were  borrowed  by  Ethiopia  from  the 
divinatory  ritual  of  Egypt.  On  the  tomb  of  Nib  Udnnaf  at 
Gurneh  (see  Sethe,  ZA'  xliii.  [1906]  30  ft".)  there  is  an  account  of 
the  election  of  the  high  priest  of  Amon-Ra.  The  candidates 
were  led  before  the  statue  of  the  god.  They  were  all  shown  to 
it  in  turn,  'and  not  to  a  single  one  of  them  did  it  make  the 
motion  hanu  [see  below  for  the  actual  gesture]  except,  said  the 
King,  when  I  pronounced  thy  name.'  Then,  Nib  U6nnaf  being 
thus  chosen,  the  statue  conferred  the  power  upon  him  by  four 
magic  passes.  A  second  text,  discovered  later,  proves  that  the 
custom  was  in  existence  even  in  the  time  of  Amenhotep  Mi., 
and  it  is  quite  logical  to  suppose  that  it  goes  back  to  a  much 
earlier  period ;  it  may  perhaps  be  even  as  ancient  as  the 
worship  of  the  god  himself. 

The  right  of  consulting  the  god  is  reserved,  of 
course,  to  his  people,  i.e.  to  the  king  or  the  chief 

*  prophet '  (a  poor  modern  tr.  of  the  word  honu, 
which  is,  more  exactly,  a  'man  belonging  to  some 
one ').  The  consultation  does  not  take  place  at 
any  time,  but  only,  according  to  traditional  eti- 
quette, on  one  of  the  days  of  the  holy  image's 

*  going  out '  (khdu  =  t  assemblies,'  '  processions  ') — ■ 
in  the  case  of  the  Theban  Anion,  e.g.,  at  'his 
great  festival  of  Apit.'  There  is  a  recognized  place 
where  it  is  allowable  to  present  the  divinatory  re- 
quest to  the  god,  and  even  to  interrupt  the  '  going 
out'  of  the  god  to  question  him.  At  Thebes  it  is 
the  place  called  the  '  silver  pavement.'  The  priest 
approaches  the  shrine  containing  the  statue  and 
begins  by  an  invocation  (dsh)  in  court  language. 
He  then  asks  the  statue  if  it  is  convenient  for  it 
to  listen  to  such  and  such  an  affair.  The  terms 
used  here  also  are  traditional :  '  O  God  of  Good- 


ness, my  Lord/  is  the  beginning  of  the  question. 
Then  the  case  is  stated  :  a  theft  has  been  com- 
mitted ;  will  the  god  help  to  find  the  stolen  pro- 
Eerty  and  the  culprits  ?  A  funerary  monument 
as  been  robbed  ;  does  the  god  desire  the  punish- 
ment of  the  spoilers  ?  Sometimes  even  more  cir- 
cumlocution is  used  :  '  Lord,  may  we  lay  before 
thee  a  serious  affair  ? '  {e.g.  among  the  Banis  of  the 
Great  Oasis  ;  see  below).  If  the  statue  remains 
motionless,  the  request  is  refused,  and  the  matter 
is  dropped.  If  it  consents  to  listen,  it  acquiesces 
(hanu)  '  twice  with  decision.' 

The  actual  gesture  of  consent  is  difficult  to  determine. 
Nearly  all  authorities  admit  that  the  statue  '  shook  its  head.' 
The  word  hanu,  always  employed,  without  exception,  in  all 
the  texts,  for  this  method  of  divination,  may,  indeed,  mean  a 
shake  of  the  head,  according  to  the  UBual  signification  of  the 
word  in  ordinary  language.  Amon-Ra  of  Karnak,  in  the  long 
series  of  examples  known  to  us,  Amon  '  Pakhoniti'  of  Memphis 
(cf.  Pleyce,  PSBA  x.  [1892]  41, 55),  Amon  '  Ta-Shoni '  (i&.),Khonsu 
'Nofirhatep'  of  Thebes,  Amenothes  i„  king  of  the  dead  (cf. 
Erman,  SBA  W,  1910,  p.  210),  and  the  images  of  the  Ethiopian 
Amon  of  Napata  gave  responses  in  this  way  (hanu).  The  same 
is  true  of  Isis  of  Koptos  (Petrie,  Eoptos,  London,  1896,  pi.  xix. 
lines  11-13).  There  is  doubt,  however,  in  the  case  of  Juppiter 
Amon  of  the  Great  Oasis  (cf.  Brugsch,  Reise  nach  der  grossen 
Oase,  Leipzig,  1878,  pi.  xxii.),  and  the  consultation  granted 
afterwards  to  Alexander,  on  his  famous  journey  to  this  sanctu- 
ary. But  there  is  no  decisive  context  to  prove  that  it  was  the 
head  rather  than  the  arms  that  moved,  and,  as  we  have  no 
remains  of  these  portable  statues,  scientific  reserve  must  be 
maintained  on  this  material  detail.  The  passage  in  the  famous 
stela  of  Bakhtan,  in  which  the  king  asks  the  statue  of  Khonsu 
'  to  incline  its  face,'  is  nothing  more  than  an  ordinary  expres- 
sion in  court  language,  meaning  '  to  be  in  a  benevolent  mood, 
or  '  to  consent  gladly '  to  something.  Finally,  it  will  be  ob- 
served :  (1)  that  several  passages  in  the  inscriptions  and  papyri 
say  that  the  statue  performs  hanu  '  towards '  some  one  hidden 
in  the  midst  of  a  group  or  a  crowd  ;  (2)  that,  in  many  other 
circumstances  besides  interrogations  proper,  the  statue  '  seizes 
some  one,  or  '  holds  the  Btring  '  (the  ritual  term  for  founding  a 
temple),  etc.  These  evidences,  along  with  others  too  long  to 
give  here,  justify  us  in  assuming,  with  equal  probability,  that 
the  hanu  may  have  been  a  movement  of  the  arm  of  a  jointed 
statue,  accompanied  perhaps  by  a  sound,  a  whistling,  or  a  cry, 
of  suitable  strength.  We  have  absolutely  no  exact  details  here, 
though  we  know  that,  in  the  case  of  oracles  proper,  the  god 
spoke  ;  but  this  Divine  language  is  itself  a  matter  for  discus- 
sion. Maspero,  in  all  the  works  in  which  he  discusses  these 
'  prophetic  statues '  (see  Literature),  holds  that  they  were 
actual  jointed  dolls,  with  strings  attached  to  their  arms  and 
heads,  and  that  the  officiating  priest  pulled  a  string  for  each 
response  and  each  gesture.  In  his  earliest  works  (cf.  RHR  xv. 
[1887]  159  ff.)  he  even  seems  to  admit  the  existence  of  actual 
machinery,  worked,  when  required,  by  fire  or  steam.  The 
explanation  that  the  statue  had  a  jointed  head  seems  to  be 
generally  accepted.  It  is  a  very  ingenious  and  satisfactory 
hypothesis — but  nothing  more,  for  no  single  text  or  representa- 
tion supplies  formal  proof. 

Divination  was  the  exclusive  privilege  of  the  'essential 
statue,  just  as  were  the  possession  of  the  fluid  sd,  and  the  gift 
of  exorcism,  of  healing,  of  'vital  breaths,'  etc. ;  and — probably 
for  reasons  of  magic  awe — the  Egyptians  never  made  a  single 
representation  to  show  what  such  a  statue  was.  There  is  one 
portable  figure  of  Min,  it  is  true,  nude  and  ithyphallic,  carried 
on  his  shield  and  having  his  'magic-case'  with  him,  in  a 
number  of  Theban  representations  of  processions  (Luxor, 
Medinet  Habu,  and  Ramesseum).  This  statue  suggests,  at  the 
very  first  glance,  the  idea  of  a  string  hanging  from  the  neck  to 
the  ground — which  would  justify  the  theory  of  statues  with 
movable  heads.  But  it  is  doubtful  whether  this  is  a  '  prophetic 
statue — from  the  very  fact  that  they  have  dared  to  show  it  in 
bas-relief.  We  know,  finally,  that  the  Bacred  image  was  carried 
on  the  bari  ;  and,  even  allowing  that  the  naos  was  open  during 
the  consultation  and  that  the  statue  was  taken  out  cf  it  and 
placed  on  the  ground  (cf.  Pleyte,  PSBA  x.  43),  it  is  difficult  to 
see  by  what  sort  of  mechanical  means  movements  could  be 
produced.  All  that  we  can  state  with  certainty  is  that  the 
idol  indicated  its  wishes  by  a  gesture,  or  by  a  gesture  and  a 
cry  at  the  same  time,  and  repeated  twice. 

After  this  sort  of  ■  duty  performance,'  the  king 
or  the  chief  priest  puts  the  question.  The  cases 
about  which  we  know  (from  inscriptions,  papyri, 
and  ostraca)  are  of  great  variety  (cf.  Brit.  Mus. 
Papyrus  10335;  Mariette,  Catal.  mon.  dyAbydos, 
Paris,  1881,  no.  1225  ;  Brugsch,  ZA  ix.  [1871]  85  ; 
Erman,  SB  A  W,  1910,  pp.  344,  346  =  Cairo  Ostrakon 
25242 ;  Turin  Papyrus  126,  ch.  3  ;  Erman,  A  gyp. 
Eel.  186  ;  Louvre  Maunier  Stela  ;  Breasted,  Anc. 
Records,  iv.  [Chicago,  1907]  317  ;  Naville,  hi-scr. 
hist,  de  Pinodjem  III.,  Paris,  1883,  p.  111).  A  con- 
sideration of  all  the  questions  submitted  shows 
that  the  majority  are  judicial  decisions,  and  that 


794 


DIVINATION  (Egyptian) 


they  are  entirely  concerned  with  the  people  and 
things  ruled  over  or  possessed  by  the  god  ;  in 
short,  that  they  are  cases  not  of  interpretative 
divination  or  divination  of  the  future,  but  of  the 
divination,  for  the  immediate  present,  of  the  god's 
formal  decision.  This  remark  helps  us  to  under- 
stand how  the  process  of  the  Divine  response  by 
hanu  tended  to  become  a  settled  gesture,  almost  a 
piece  of  legal  phraseology,  the  divinatory  element 
of  which  in  the  end  quite  evaporated  (see  below). 

The  process  of  questioning  is  controlled  by 
rigorous  fixed  rules.  A  series  of  definite  ques- 
tions are  asked,  each  one  bringing  nearer,  ne 
varietur,  the  solution  of  the  difficulty.  To  each 
question  the  statue  has  to  reply  by  'yes'  (i.e.  by 
performing  hanu  'twice  with  decision')  or  'no' 
(i.e.  by  remaining  unmoved).  In  certain  cases, 
the  final  decision  depends  entirely  upon  the  statue's 
gesture.  Two  pieces  of  writing  are  placed  before 
it,  the  one  saying  that  an  accused  person  is  guilty, 
the  other  that  he  is  not  guilty  ;  and  the  statue  is 
required  to  choose.  To  make  quite  sure,  this  test 
is  repeated  twice.  The  case  of  the  steward 
Thothmes  is  an  example  of  this  kind,  in  which, 
twice  over,  '  the  god  refused  to  take  the  writing 
that  declared  him  guilty,  and  took  that  declaring 
him  innocent '  (cf.  a  good  tr.  of  this  typical 
example  in  Breasted,  Anc.  Records,  iv.  325). 

This  curious  passage  would  lead  one  to  suppose  that,  even 
although  hanu  means  a  shaking  of  the  head,  the  statue  certainly 
moved  or  stretched  out  its  arm  to  take  the  writing.  This 
evidence  should  be  laid  alongside  of  the  various  texts  that 
seem  to  show  that  at  the  coronation  of  the  king  the  statue  of 
Amon-Ra  put  the  crown  on  the  new  sovereign's  head,  as  in 
Ethiopia  (see  below). 

Taken  in  connexion  with  the  indication  of  the 
Ethiopian  kings  and  the  Theban  chief  priests  by 
the  statue,  these  examples  of  judicial  decisions 
throw  light  upon  the  philosophy  of  such  proceed- 
ings. It  is  possible — and  probable — that  originally 
the  gesture  of  the  statue  was  actually  divinatory, 
inasmuch  as,  though  an  indication  was  looked  for 
from  it  that  was  the  result,  it  is  true,  of  solicita- 
tion, its  exact  answer  or  choice  could  not  be  fore- 
told. In  the  earliest  times  the  hanu  of  the  statue 
was  as  impossible  to  anticipate  with  certainty 
as  were  the  miraculous  movements  recorded  in 
other  inscriptions — the  statue  making  a  gesture 
of  welcome  or  salutation,  during  a  procession,  as 
it  passed  before  a  court  official  (cf.  Petrie,  Koptos, 
pi.  xix.  line  11  f.),  or,  more  frequently,  before 
the  prince  who  was  destined  one  day  to  mount 
'  the  throne  of  Horus,'  and  of  whose  future 
position  as  king  of  Egypt  no  indication  had  ever 
until  then  been  made.  The  original  nature  of 
the  process  had  a  tendency  gradually  to  become 
an  operation  in  which  the  process  of  investigation, 
procedure,  and  inquiry  was  carried  through  more 
and  more  by  human  means,  and  the  only  uncertain 
element — i.e.  the  opinion,  or  the  will,  of  the  god 
— was  reduced  to  the  very  restricted  alternative 
of  saying  'yes'  or  remaining  motionless.  Divina- 
tion proper,  thus  reduced  to  the  minimum  of 
interpretative  freedom,  and  confined  to  cases 
equally  definite  and  real,  became,  by  force  of 
circumstances,  rather  a  registration  of  the  god's 
consent  taken  for  granted  in  practice,  and  soon 
even  simply  a  formality  with  practically  no  divi- 
natory significance  in  it.  This  was  almost  certainly 
the  nature  of  the  Divine  hanu  in  the  cases  of  the 
election  of  the  Ethiopian  king  and  the  nomination 
of  the  Theban  chief  priest ;  and  similarly  in  the 
ratification  of  judicial  sentences.  This  all  serves 
to  explain  how,  in  the  course  of  history,  the 
Divine  consent  by  a  •  movement  of  the  statue 
came  to  be  the  regular  and  necessary  accessary  of 
registration  for  all  kinds  of  contracts,  deeds  of 
gift,  marriages,  wills,  and  even  rescripts  relating 
to  funerary  lots  passed  before  the  temple  authori- 


ties, in  which  there  was  no  kind  of  '  divination ' 
to  be  seen — unless,  indeed,  we  give  that  name  to 
the  desire  (or  would-be  desire)  to  be  quite  certain, 
for  the  sake  of  the  validity  of  these  actions,  that 
the  spirit  of  the  god  was  not  opposed  to  them 
(cf.  (1)  the  process  in  the  Turin  Papyrus  126; 
(2)  Erman,  ZA  xxxv.  [1897]  12,  for  the  registra- 
tion of  a  will ;  (3)  Maspero,  Boulaq,  p.  336,  for 
the  registration  of  a  funerary  decree  ;  and  (4)  what 
Breasted  says  in  Anc.  Records,  iv.  325,  about  a 
special  work  on  this  series  of  legal  documents). 1 

(c)  From  the  known  examples,  it  appears  that  the 
consultation  of  statues  usually  consisted  in  obtain- 
ing a  series  of  acquiescings  manifested  by  the 
hanu.  We  have  seen,  however,  that  movements  of 
'  seizing '  sometimes  accompanied  this  manifesta- 
tion of  the  god's  will.  There  were  also  other 
movements  of  an  analogous  kind;  e.g.,  when  the 
image  of  Khonsu  consented  to  grant  its  magic 
power  to  one  of  the  statues  of  Khonsu  in  order  to 
drive  off  a  demon,  it  is  said  that  it  '  made  four 
passes  of  the  magic  fluid ' — from  which  we  may 
assume  actual  movements,  no  matter  how  rudi- 
mentary, of  the  arms  or  of  an  arm.  In  some  of 
the  cases  cited  above,  it  is  formally  stated  that 
the  hanu  was  accompanied  by  spoken  words, 
sentences  more  or  less  brief,  but  practically  form- 
ing a  short  discourse ;  this  is  the  case  in  the 
election  of  the  kings  of  Napata.  It  is,  indeed, 
certain,  from  a  number  of  other  texts,  that  the 
gods  spoke — not,  of  course,  to  the  common  herd 
of  mortals,  but  to  their  sons  and  their  ministers 
(i.e.  to  the  members  of  the  royal  family  and  the 
high  priests).  The  gist  of  the  wishes  they  mani- 
fested thus  was  afterwards  reduced  to  the  form  of 
a  decree  (utu),  and  engraved  on  the  walls  of  the 
temple  as  '  the  words  of  the  god  himself ' ;  or  their 
wishes  were  embodied  in  one  of  those  rhythmical 
prose  accounts,  lyrical  in  character,  which  have 
been  rapidly  enriching  the  corpus  of  Egyptian 
historical  inscriptions  in  recent  times. 

These  oracles  are  of  as  many  varieties  as  the  consultations  of 
the  statues  examined  above.  Sometimes  the  god  himself,  of 
his  own  accord  and  unsolicited,  suddenly  manifested  his  will, 
making  his  voice  heard,  in  the  silence  of  the  sanctuary,  to  the 
king  or  priest  coming  into  his  majeBtic  presence ;  and  he  would 
order  a  mission  to  Lebanon  for  wood  for  his  house,  for  stones 
for  hiB  temples,  for  perfumes  and  rare  trees  for  his  altars  and 
sanctuaries  (cf.  Erman,  ZA  xxxviii.  [1900]  1 ;  and  Golenischeff, 
RTr  xxi.  127).  Sometimes  the  manifestation  was  less  unfore- 
seen :  it  might  be  the  complement  of  a  previous  warning  in  a 
dream,  a  formal  explanation  of  which  the  god  was  graciously 
granting  by  request ;  or  it  might  be  the  answer  to  a  passionate 
request  of  the  king.  To  the  last  category  belongs  the  discourse 
received  by  Hatasu  in  the  temple  of  Deir  el-Bahari,  when  she 
came,  after  prayers  and  fasting,  to  seek  a  manifestation  of 
the  Divine  will,  and  was  ordered  to  send  an  expedition  to  the 
country  of  spices  (cf.  Naville,  Deir  el  Bahari,  London,  1898- 
1901,  iii.  S4).  This  famous  example  is  a  good  specimen  of  the 
manner  of  proceeding.  The  other  examples  of  the  same  type 
show  that  in  no  single  case  was  the  divination  accompanied  by 
ecstasy,  religious  frenzy,  or  hypnosis  of  the  subject,  and  that 
the  god  never  used  mysterious  language,  or  broken  mangled 
words  that  were  afterwards  submitted  to  the  interpretation 
of  professional  soothsayers.  The  statements  made  by  the  god 
were  in  clear  and  coherent  terms.  They  were  practical  replies 
as  to  a  fact,  a  decision  to  be  taken,  or  the  issue  of  a  concrete 
imminent  event.  All  the  Egyptian  precision  and  love  of  clear- 
ness are  seen  in  these  oracles,  as  we  may  call  them.  Seti  I. 
implores  the  god,  and  is  shown  a  place  where  he  must  make 
a  well  in  the  desert,  while  the  god  demands  a  sanctuary  in 
exchange  (cf.  Breasted,  Anc.  Records,  iii.  82) ;  and  orders, 
solicited  or  unsolicited,  relating  to  the  construction  and  repair 
of  buildings  {e.g.  Mariette,  Karnak,  Leipzig,  1875,  pi.  xii.  = 
Breasted,  Anc.  Records,  ii.  no.  006)  appear  to  have  held  the 
chief  place  in  these  oracles — perhaps,  indeed,  just  because  these 
responses  more  than  others  were  engraved  on  the  walls  of  the 
buildings  with  which  they  were  thus  connected.  Another  kind 
of  prediction  which  we  find  of  more  and  more  frequent  occur- 
rence is  the  foretelling  of  a  prince's  coming  to  the  throne. 
Thothmes  in.  was  informed  by  the  god  long  in  advance  that  he 
would  one  day  be  king  of  Egypt  (Inscription  of  the  year  23  at 
Wady-Halfa) ;  and  this  prediction  was  confirmed  later  by  the 
statue  suddenly  stopping  in  front  of  Thothmes,  proclaiming 

1  On  the  question  of  illusion  or  fraud  in  the  above  processes, 
see  Foucart,  Religion  et  art  dans  I'ancienne  Egypte,  Paris,  1908. 
vol.  i.  ch,  i.  p.  37  ff. ;  Maspero,  '  Les  Statues  parlantes,'  in  JD< 
21st  Dec.  1898. 


DIVINATION  (Egyptian) 


796 


him  king,  crowning  him,  and  making  him  a  speech  (cf.  Breasted, 
*  Coronation  Inscription,'  in  Anc.  Records,  ii.  60,  no.  140). 

Such  facts  should  be  compared  with  those  telling  how  the 
Divine  statue  proclaimed  the  king,  appeared  in  public  with  him 
under  its  protection,  and  gave  him  his  crown  and  diadems  (e.g. 
Daresay,  Annates,  iii.  [1903]  27  f.  for  Ramses  n.,  and  similar 
facts  for  the  Thothmes,  the  Amen-hotepsof  the  XVIII  th  dynasty, 
and  Harmhabi).  They  seem  to  indicate  that  here  we  have,  for 
historical  Egypt,  the  continuation  of  an  extremely  ancient 
divinatory  process.  If  we  further  consider  the  remarks  of 
Breasted  (Anc.  Records,  ii.  225)  on  the  antiquity  and  persist- 
ence of  the  coronation  ritual  of  Heliopolis,  it  is  a  possible 
assumption  that  the  whole  is  a  survival,  made  regular  and 
ritual,  of  a  much  earlier  state  of  things,  and  that,  in  pre-historic 
times,  the  accession  of  a  chief  was  actually  settled  by  divination, 
the  idol  (or,  before  it,  the  fetish)  intervening  by  prophetic 
processes  to  indicate  the  man  it  desired  to  be  its  minister  and 
to  rule  over  men  in  its  name.  Such  a  view  would  modify  our 
ideas  on  the  origins  of  Egyptian  monarchy,  and  should  be  con- 
sidered along  with  the  analogous  customs  to  be  found  among 
numerous  uncivilized  races  of  the  present  day  relating  to  the 
designation  of  kings  or  priests  by  divination. 

The  inscriptions  of  the  classical  period  published 
in  recent  years  show  that  the  gods  themselves 
gave  direct  orders  by  speeches,  and  it  is  beyond 
all  doubt  that  consultation  of  the  gods  by  the 
kings  was  of  very  frequent  occurrence,  and  that 
divination  was  involved  in  the  majority  of  im- 
portant decisions.  At  grave  junctures,  e.g.  when 
there  was  a  conspiracy  to  frustrate,  a  treaty  to 
arrange,  or  an  expedition  to  command,  the  king 
asked  help  from  the  god,  and  he  did  not  ask  it 
in  a  sign  or  prodigy  to  be  interpreted  afterwards ; 
he  requested  an  answer  in  articulate  language  and 
exact  tenus.  It  is  difficult  to  find  a  nobler  tone 
in  the  ancient  literatui  e  of  the  East  than  that  of 
some  of  the  inscriptions  in  which  a  king  relates 
how  he  came  to  the  temple  to  seek  for  Divine 
wisdom,  stated  his  business  before  his  ancestor, 
asked  him  what  he  ought  to  do,  and  turned  away 
from  this  mysterious  interview  with  face  lit  up 
and  heart  full  of  joy,  because  he  had  heard  his 
god  speak  to  him  'as  a  father  to  his  son'  (cf.  e.g. 
B:iiriant,  RTr  xv.  [1896]  178;  Inscription  of 
Thothmes  IV.  at  Konosso).  This  fine  formula 
recurs  in  several  inscriptions  relating  to  consul- 
tations of  the  god  by  the  king.1 

To  these  examples  of  oracles  of  the  Pharaonic 
period  we  may  add,  as  having  an  Egyptian 
character  and  no  foreign  elements,  the  demotic 
inscriptions  of  Nubia,  relating  to  the  oracles  of 
Isis  of  Philae  and  Thoth  of  Pi-Nubs.  The  records 
that  the  '  chief  of  the  temple  held  a  consultation 
of  the  god '  connect  this  method  of  divination 
with  the  official  procedures  already  noticed  (cf. 
Revillout,  Revue  igyptologique,  v.  nos.  i.— ii. ,  and 
PSBA  x.  56-58).  At  the  oracle  of  Dakke,  held 
in  great  veneration  by  the  Ethiopians  and  the 
Blemmyes,  the  statue  of  the  god  was  consulted 
'at  the  great  feast'  (bo  en  lo).  Texts  show  that 
a  consultation  of  this  oracle  was  a  recognized 
thing  when  a  prediction  of  the  circumstances 
favourable  for  the  celebrated  yearly  journey  of 
the  statue  of  Isis  of  Philae  to  the  Blemmyes  was 
desired.  It  is  also  an  Egyptian  custom  that  we 
find  at  Korti,  when  the  chief  priest  of  the  temple 
leaves  the  choice  of  his  successor  in  the  hands  of 
the  god  (cf.  Revue  igyptol.  v.  no.  Ill,  for  a  series 
of  examples  of  all  these  oracles). 

It  is  very  difficult  to  discriminate  between  what 
is  Egyptian  and  what  is  foreign  in  the  mass  of 
examples  of  divination  and  sanctuaries  having  an 
oracle  mentioned  in  connexion  with  Egypt  by 
Graeco-Koman  authors.  The  same  restraint  must 
be  observed  as  for  the  divinatory  processes  dis- 
cussed above  in  the  inquiry  concerning  the  pro- 
phetic statues.     As  a  rule,  the  recently  discovered 

1  As  to  the  very  difficult  question  of  the  material  method  by 
which  the  god  spoke,  Garnault  (Revue  scientifique,  no.  21,  May 
1900,  p.  643  f.)  suggests  ventriloquism  ;  Maspero  holds  that  the 
priest  spoke  by  Divine  inspiration  in  the  name  of  the  god — the 
most  satisfactory  theory  in  many  instances.  But  in  some  cases 
the  king  alone,  without  the  intervention  of  the  priest,  appears 
to  have  received  the  Divine  response  directly  in  his  own  soul. 


information  of  Pharaonic  age  tends  to  confirm  for 
the  majority  of  cases  the  actual  national  character 
of  the  modes  of  divination.  Thus  at  the  oracle 
of  Bisu  in  the  Thebaid  (Herod,  i.  182 ;  Amm. 
Marcellinus,  xix.  12),  and  at  that  of  Heliopolis 
(Macrobius,  Saturn,  i.  30),  the  means  of  getting 
the  future  divulged  consisted  in  reducing  the  ques- 
tions to  writing,  according  to  carefully  arranged 
formula?.  Such  a  method  is  fairly  similar  to  what 
took  place,  as  we  saw  above,  in  the  judgment  of 
the  steward  Thothmes,  and  the  importance  of  the 
proper  wording  of  the  formulary  noted  by  Pliny 
(xxviii.  3)  and  Juvenal  (Sat.  vi.  390)  corresponds 
exactly  with  Egyptian  formalism.  But  these 
formulae,  deposited  under  seal  in  the  temple,  and 
the  replies  given,  also  sealed,  with  the  same 
ceremonial,  are  a  method  of  Divine  correspondence 
which  the  hieroglyphic  inscriptions  have  not  yet 
confirmed  for  the  classic  period.  We  know  from 
Zosimus  that  in  the  reign  of  Constantine  the 
government  seized  a  number  of  oracles  which  were 
given  into  the  hands  of  the  Imperial  police  and 
involved  a  number  of  Egyptians  in  imprisonment 
and  exile. 

The  cases  of  divination  by  incubation  are  the 
most  complicated.  If  it  is  certain  that  the  sanc- 
tuary of  Ptah  Sotmu  in  Memphis  was  giving 
oracles  in  the  Pharaonic  epoch  to  sufferers  who 
came  to  consult  it  (see  Disease  [Egyp.]),  and  that 
the  gods  had  been  sending  dreams,  for  long  ages 
and  almost  everywhere,  to  reveal  remedies  to  the 
patients  who  came  to  sleep  in  their  temples,  it  is 
no  less  certain  that  the  result  of  the  combined 
influence  of  Asia  and  Greece  was  to  extend  and 
modify  the  essentials  of  these  processes  of  divina- 
tion, just  as  in  the  cases  already  noticed  of 
prophecy  by  interpretation  of  inanimate  things. 

The  famouB  oracle  of  Juppiter  Anion  of  the  Great  Oasis 
deserves  special  mention.  Although  manifestly  in  decadence 
in  the  time  of  Strabo  (xvii.  759),  its  advice  was  still  held  of 
great  value  in  difficult  questions  (Juvenal,  Sat.  vi.  554).  A 
study  of  the  principal  Graco-Roman  authors  who  describe  the 
manner  in  which  the  god  made  his  will  known  (Ptolem.  §  8  f . ; 
Scriptores  rerum  Alex.  Magni,  ed.  Muller-Didot,  1846,  p.  37  f. ; 
Arrian,  Anabasis,  iii.  4.  §  5 ;  Quintus  Curtius,  iv.  7 ; 
Ephippos,  §  3 ;  Strabo,  vii.  fr.  1 ;  Diodorus,  xvii.  51 ;  Plutarch, 
Alex.  27 ;  and  especially  Callisthenes,  fr.  27  and  36)  shows 
that  it  was  in  absolute  conformity  with  the  Egyptian  rule : 
the  statue  of  the  god,  the  response  by  gesture  and,  if  need 
be,  by  spoken  words,  the  consultation  by  the  high  priest,  and 
the  questioning  at  the  '  ceremonial  going  out '  of  the  god  (notice 
the  passage  of  Strabo  [vii.  fr.  1]  remarking  indirectly  that  the 
responses  of  the  oracle  were  given  in  conventional  signs,  Sid 
Tivttiv  (rv^6\ttiv).  We  also  find  indirectly,  from  the  evidence 
of  Ephippos  (§  3),  that  the  divinatory  statue  had  a  human  form, 
and  was  provided  with  shoes,  a  mantle,  and  horns.  This  last 
trait — granting  that  the  Amon  of  the  Oasis  is  certainly  a  copy 
of  the  Theban  Amon — helps  to  confirm  the  conclusion  that  the 
prophetic  statue  of  Thebes  had  a  ram's  head.  The  most  famous 
episode  in  connexion  with  this  oracle  was  the  visit  of  Alexander, 
who  was  summoned  by  Amon  as  his  60n  and  lawful  successor 
upon  the  throne  of  Egypt.  Maspero  (Ann.  de  Vficole  des  Hautes 
Etudes,  1897,  pp.  1-32,  '  Comment  Alexandre  devint  dieu  en 
Egypte ')  shows  clearly  that  the  deification  of  the  great  con- 
queror was  carried  through  completely  in  accordance  with  the 
forms  of  the  Pharaohs,  in  spite  of  the  mistaken  statements  of 
Greek  authors,  who  were  ill-informed  as  to  Egyptian  procedure. 

The  consultation  of  statues  by  signs  and  oracles 
being  entrusted  to  the  priest  in  charge  of  the 
ordinary  priestly  functions  led,  of  necessity,  to 
the  suppressing  of  professional  soothsayers  and 
seers  filled  with  religious  frenzy,  divinatory 
ecstasy,  etc.  There  was  not  even  a  set  of  officials 
whose  duty  it  was  to  interpret  dreams ;  this 
function  was  entrusted  by  the  Pharaoh  to  some 
of  his  chaplains  or  secretaries.  Finally,  we  know 
of  no  regular  body  of  individuals  charged  with 
the  execution  of  the  rules  of  mantics  as  applied 
to  time  and  space  (cf.  art.  Stars  [Egyp.],  for  a 
partial  exception  to  this).  It  is  true,  of  course, 
that  innumerable  trifling  cases  of  divination  in 
daily  life  engaged  the  attention  of  all  classes, 
from  the  man  in  the  street  to  the  king  himself. 
But  these  were  dealt  with  directly,  by  individual 


796 


DIVINATION  (Greek) 


intelligence,  by  an  answer  obtained  from  a  book 
of  magic,  or  by  explanations  sought  from  some 
private  person  celebrated  for  knowledge  and 
sagacity — this  last  word  being  understood  in  its 
narrowest  sense  of  a  high  degree  of  skill  in 
magical  studies.  This  practice  of  private  divina- 
tion (which  must  be  carefully  kept  distinct  from 
official  divination)  seems  to  have  been  of  wide 
occurrence  in  Egypt  in  all  periods.  It  presents 
cases  of  an  infinite  variety  of  application,  but 
these  will  be  more  appropriately  discussed  under 
Magic  (Egyp.). 

Literature. — There  is  no  monograph  on  the  subject.  A  good 
number  of  testimonies  of  classical  authors,  almost  entirely 
neglected  in  Egyptological  works,  are  gathered  together  in 
J.  G.  Wilkinson,  Manners  and  Customs,  ed.  1878,  ii.  462-464, 
where,  however,  the  actual  facts  are  not  stated  from  Egypt 
itself.  An  isolated  branch — the  6tudy  of  prophetic  statues — is 
treated  by  G.  Maspero,  in  a  great  many  publications  (see  esp. 
RHR  XV.  [1889]  159,  188;  RTr  i.  [1882]  162;  JD,  21st  Dec. 
1898  [speakinff  statues] ;  Guide  au  Musie  de  Boulaq,  Paris,  1883, 
pp.  69,  336 ;  Etudes  de  Myth.  etd'ArcMol.  iii.  [1901]  165,  220 ; 
Annuaire  de  VEcole  des  Hautes  Etudes,  1897).  A  short  account 
is  given  in  A.  Erman,  Agypt.  Religion^,  Berlin,  1906,  p.  186. 
The  rest  of  the  important  documents  and  articles  on  the  subject 
have  been  mentioned  in  the  article. 

George  Foucaet. 

DIVINATION  (Greek).— Of  the  beliefs  with 
regard  to  divination  held  by  the  Hellenes  at  the 
time  of  their  arrival  in  Greece  we  have  no  know- 
ledge. That  they  practised  it  is  highly  likely ; 
and  it  is  inconceivable  that  the  inhabitants  of 
Knossos,  Tiryns,  Mycenae,  and  the  other  centres 
of  pre-historic  culture  had  no  belief  in  it ;  but 
definite  information  is  entirely  wanting.  The  most 
we  can  say  is  that  certain  ancient  oracles  very 
possibly  date  from  pre-Hellenic  times.  We  begin 
therefore  with  the  feudal  period  of  Greek  history 
(?  c.  1200  B.C.),  of  whose  culture  we  know  some- 
thing from  Homer. 

I.  In  Homer. — Here  we  find  for  the  most  part 
'independent  diviners'  (divins  libres,  to  adopt 
Bouche-Leclercq's  convenient  terminology).  The 
oracular  shrines,  so  famous  in  later  ages,  are 
scarcely  mentioned  at  all.  One  instance  occurs 
of  a  private  consultation  at  Dodona,1  and  Achilles 
mentions  the  wealth  of  the  shrine  at  Delphi ; 2  but 
no  important  oracles  are  mentioned  as  emanating 
from  either.  Agamemnon,  for  example,  does  not 
appear  to  have  consulted  any  one  but  the  seer 
Kalchas  with  regard  to  the  Trojan  war.  The 
famous  portent  of  the  serpent  and  the  nest  of 
swallows  is  interpreted  by  him,  and  Odysseus 
bids  the  discouraged  army  'wait  awhile  and  see 
whether  Kalchas  prophesieth  aright  or  not.'3  So 
far,  then,  as  divination  is  official  and  professional, 
it  is  the  individual  seer  {/idvns,  oiWoxoXos)  and  not 
any  sort  of  priestly  corporation,  that  we  have  to 
deal  with.  The  fiavris  is  not,  as  a  rule,  an  inspired 
prophet,  but  rather  a  craftsman  (Sn/uoepySs),  classed 
with  leeches  and  carpenters  in  a  famous  verse  of 
the  Odyssey  (xvii.  384,  iiavrtv,  $  Inrripa  ko,kHv  1) 
tAo-opo.  ootipwv).  He  practises  seer-craft,  ixavroaiv-q, 
the  later  /tacTi/cTj  {t4x"v)>  as  a  doctor  practises 
physic,  and  by  the  favour  of  the  gods^  he  has 
more  skill  in  it  than  ordinary  men.  But  any 
one  can  interpret  an  omen  on  occasion,  just  as 
Patroklos,  who  is  not  a  regular  physician,  on 
occasion  heals  the  wounded  Eurypylos.  Of  any- 
thing like  possession  or  prophetic  vision,  apart 
from  the  interpretation  of  omens,  we  hear  very 
little.  The  most  famous  instance  is  the  '  second- 
sight'  of  Theoklymenos  (Od.  xx.  351  ff.),  who  sud- 
denly sees  the  hall  filled  with  the  ghosts  of  the 
wooers  of  Penelope.  The  typical  Homeric  method 
of  foretelling  the  future  is  by  the  actions  and  cries 

1  Od.  xiv.  327 ;  cf.  xix.  296.         2  II.  ix.  404.         s  11.  ii.  299  f. 

*Il.  i-^  72.  Plato,  following  the  recognized  classification, 
divides  divination  into  p.avnin)  evBeos  and  to>c  ep.^pdetoc  ^jttjo-is 
tov  neWoPTOs  (Phcedrus,  244  B-C).  The  former  is  absent  from 
Homer,  practically,  and  has  been  ascribed  (wrongly,  we  think) 
to  the  influence  of  Dionysos,  by  Bouche-Leclercq  and  others. 


of  omen-birds  (olavot),1  or  sometimes  of  other 
animals,  or  by  portents  (re" para.). 

The  former  of  these  {bpvi6op.a.vTtla,  oWo<r/coir/a) 
was  always  of  more  or  less  importance  in  Greece, 
although  it  never  attained  the  imposing  dimensions 
of  Etruscan  augury.  In  Homer,  the  omen-bird 
is  generally  an  eagle,  and  always  sent  by  Zeus, 
Apollo,  or  Athene.2  Its  actions  are  symbolical, 
and  need  no  complicated  augury  for  their  interpre- 
tation. A  characteristically  transparent  allegory 
is  that  given  by  the  eagle  in  H.  xii.  200  ff.  : 

'  For  a  bird  appeared  unto  them  as  they  strove  to  cross,  even 
an  eagle  of  high  flight,  upon  the  left,  stajing  the  folk  ;  he  bore 
a  monstrous  red  serpent  in  his  talons,  alive  still  and  breathing, 
that  was  not  yet  forgetful  of  strife,  for  it  struck  at  the  bird 
that  held  it  upon  the  breast  by  the  neck,  writhing  back.  And 
the  eagle  dropped  it  from  him  to  the  earth,  galled  by  the  pain, 
and  flung  it  down  into  the  midst  of  the  throng,  and  himself 
flew  with  a  scream  on  the  breath  of  the  wind.  And  the  Trojans 
shuddered  when  they  saw  the  writhing  snake  lying  in  the  midst 
of  them,  a  portent  of  Zeus,  the  aegis-bearer.' 

Here  the  eagle  represents  the  Trojans,  the  snake 
the  Greeks,  and  the  discomfiture  of  the  eagle 
indicates  the  result  of  the  contest.  That  it  is 
meant  as  an  omen  is  shown  by  the  species  of  bird 
— not  all  birds  are  ominous 8 — and  by  the  unusual 
nature  of  the  occurrence — it  is  called  a  portent 
(ripas).  It  is  seen  on  the  left,  i.e.  the  west,  the 
quarter  of  darkness,4  and  so  must  be  unlucky.  A 
much  simpler  omen  encourages  Odysseus  and 
Diomedes : 5 

'  Unto  them  Pallas  Athene  sent  a  heron,  on  the  right,  near 
their  path  ;  they  saw  it  not  with  their  eyes  through  the  mirky 
night,  but  they  heard  its  cry.  And  Odysseus  rejoiced  at  that 
omen  (oppis),  and  made  prayer  to  Athene.' 

In  neither  of  these  cases  is  the  diviner  strictly  a 
professional.  Polydamas,  who  interprets  the  first 
omen,  is  renowned  as  an  augur,  but  ne  is  present 
at  the  battle  simply  as  a  warrior,  and  only  inci- 
dentally interprets  omens  and  advises  Hector. 
Odysseus  is  a  favourite  of  Athene,  but  has  nothing 
of  the  priest  or  wizard  about  him.  The  method 
of  interpretation  is  of  the  simplest  in  these  and  all 
other  cases  in  Homer ;  and  Hector,  who  is  by  no 
means  impious,  is  frankly  contemptuous  about  the 
adverse  sign. 

Portents,  strictly  speaking, — i.e.  ominous  events 
of  a  miraculous  nature, — are  not  very  common 
in  Homer.  One  has  already  been  mentioned  in 
passing.  The  omen  of  the  serpent,  interpreted  by 
Kalchas,  ends  by  the  creature  being  turned  into 
stone  ;  but  no  one  seems  to  deduce  anything  from 
this.  The  word  ripas,  indeed,  is  used  to  mean  any 
sign8  from  a  god,  whether  miraculous  or  not,  or 
any  wonderful  thing,  like  the  segis,  which  ap- 
parently Eris  carries  in  II.  xi.  4.  In  any  case,  it 
is  definitely  from  a  god  that  the  sign  always 
comes ;  and  this  applies  to  the  other  forms  of 
divination  mentioned  below.  Of  familiar  spirits, 
animals  which  give  signs  of  their  own  accord,  and 
the  like,  we  hear  nothing  in  Homer. 

Besides  augury  and  portents,  the  most  important 
omens  are  dreams.  These  are  almost  always 
definitely  sent  by  a  god,  and  usually  speak  in 
plain  language.  Generally  also  they  are  true,  an 
exception  being  the  '  baneful  dream '  sent  by  Zeus 
to  deceive  Agamemnon.7  Usually  the  vision  takes 
the  form  of  a  man  or  woman  known  to  the  sleeper 

1  Strictly,  ope  is  is  '  a  bird,  in  general,'  oliavo<;,  '  an  omen-bird ' ; 
but  the  distinction  is  often  neglected.  ai<nv6<;  also  means  an 
omen  given  by  a  bird,  hence  an  omen  in  general ;  and  oppt? 
was  used  in  this  sense. 

2  See  Ameis  on  Od.  x.  274.  For  the  association  of  these  three 
deities,  cf.  the  repeated  line  at  yap,  Zev  re  Trarep  Kal  'AOrjvaCri 
ko.1  'Atto^Xov.  The  eagle  is  '  most  perfect  (i.e.  most  thoroughly 
ominous)  of  winged  fowl '  (II.  viii.  247,  xxiv.  316). 

3  0d.  ii.  182.  *  II.  xii.  239  f.  6  II.  x.  274  ff. 

6  Called  in  general  o-rjp-a.  A  falling  star  is  called  i-e'pas  (II. 
iv.  76).  The  stock  Te'pa?  of  later  times,  a  monstrous  birth,  or  a 
birth  from  a  mule  (see,  e.g.,  Plato,  Cratylus,  393  B),  does  not 
occur  in  Homer. 

7  II.  ii.  6  ff.  Zeus  is,  it  would  appear,  the  normal  sender  of 
dreams  (ib.  i.  63) ;  and  we  hear  of  no  other  god  who,  so  to  speak, 
keeps  dreams  ready-made.  The  others  appear  themselves  in 
sleep,  or  make  and  send  phantoms. 


DIVINATION  (Greek) 


797 


(in  this  case,  Nestor).  However,  the  clear,  non- 
allegorical  language  is  not  invariable,  and  there 
exists  a  class  of  dream-interpreters  (6veipoir6\oi), 
but,  we  may  safely  assume,  no  masters  of  any 
complicated  and  wide-reaching  science  like  that 
taught  in  later  days  by  such  men  as  Artemidoros. 
Part  of  their  craft,  it  would  seem,  consisted  in 
telling  true  dreams  from  false  ones  ;  so  we  gather 
from  the  apologue  of  the  gates  of  horn  and  of 
ivory,  in  the  speech  of  Penelope  to  Odysseus 
{Od.  xix.  560).  According  to  the  geography  of 
Od.  xi.,  the  'folk  of  dreams'  (c%tos  Svelpuv)  occupy 
a  position  beyond  Ocean  and  near  Hades ;  but 
such  ideas  have  at  least  as  much  poetic  fancy 
as  genuine  popular  belief  in  them.  What  is 
important  for  our  purposes  to  observe  is  that 
Penelope's  dream  is  of  the  kind  we  have  elsewhere 
noticed1  as  the  simplest  form  of  allegorical  dream 
— a  vision  of  an  ominous  happening.  Incubation 
(see  below)  is  unknown  in  Homer.  One  unusual 
example  of  a  dream,  or  vision,  not  divinely  sent, 
remains  to  be  noted.  As  Achilles  sleeps,  the  spirit 
of  his  dead  and  unburied  friend  appears  to  him 
(H.  xxiii.  62  ff. )  to  beg  for  speedy  release  from  his 
homeless  condition.  But  everything  about  this 
scene,  including  the  revenant,  is  unusual,  and  even 
inconsistent  with  normal  Homeric  beliefs. 

The  occasional  appearances  of  deities,  who  speak 
face  to  face  with  favoured  heroes  (Athene  with 
Achilles  and  Odysseus,  Hermes  with  Priam,  etc.), 
are  foreign  to  our  purpose ;  but  we  may  note, 
in  passing,  the  peculiar  occurrence  which  later 
Greece  called  (p-fiM,  Homer  d/up-ft  or  6Wa — the 
rumour  which,  coming  from  no  one  knows  where, 
spreads  through  a  crowd.  This  the  Greeks  always 
recognized  as  heaven-sent.  We  mention  it  to 
introduce  a  similar  idea,  found  both  in  Homer  and 
in  later  writers,  namely,  that  the  Divine  will 
may  be  made  known  by  means  of  the  casual  words 
of  a  mortal  (kXi/Sow).  Of  this  we  have  a  note- 
worthy example  in  Od.  xx.  98  ff.  Odysseus,  about 
to  take  vengeance  on  the  wooers,  prays  for  Divine 
encouragement ;  a  thunder-clap  answers  him,  and 
is  followed  by  a  few  words  from  a  tired  maid- 
servant, who  curses  the  wooers  for  keeping  her 
up  all  night  to  grind  corn  for  their  feasts.  Later 
ritual  developed  and  systematized  this  method  at 
the  oracular  shrine  of  Hermes  Agoraios  in  Pharai.2 
The  consultant  whispered  his  question  into  the 
god's  ear,  then  stopped  his  own  ears,  went  out, 
and,  when  he  got  beyond  the  market-place,  listened 
for  chance  words  from  passers-by.  These  were 
construed  into  an  answer.  This  form  of  divination 
(cledonomancy)  remained  popular  at  all  periods. 
It  appears  in  various  forms,  such  as  the  puns  on 
names  (EXiva — iXivavs,  HXavSpos,  c^jttoXis,  in  the 
Agamemnon,  686  f . ),  and  seems  to  have  had  this 
great  advantage,  that  one  could  either  accept 
($^X«r0<u)  or  disregard  an  omen  of  this  kind.8 

Allied  to  cledonomancy  is  the  omen  from  sneez- 
ing (Od.  xvii.  541  ff.) — one  of  the  large  class  of 
omens  from  involuntary  human  actions  (ira\/j.ol), 
elaborated  in  later  times  into  a  complicated  system. 
In  the  Homeric  instance,  Telemachos'  violent  sneeze 
simply  indicates  Divine  approval  of  Penelope's 
words.  This  idea  lingers  on  to-day  in  Greece.  If 
a  sneeze  is  heard  after  any  one  has  spoken,  the 
sneezer  is  not  only  given  the  customary  '  Good 
health  to  you  ! ',  but  the  words  /ecu  ctXi)0eta  XeVi, 
'  and  he  (the  last  speaker)  tells  truth,'  are  added. 

Necromancy  proper — the  evoking  of  a  ghost  or 
ghosts — is  not  found  in  Homer.  The  nearest 
approach,  besides  the  appearance  of  Patroklos' 
spirit,  is  in  the  visit  of  Odysseus  to  Hades  [Od. 

1  See  Divination  (Introductory),  §  i,  '  Dreams.' 

2  Bouche-Leclercq,  ii.  399  ;  Pausanias,  VII.  xxii.  2-8. 
8  Cf.  .Esch.  Agam,  1652  f% 

AI.   .   .   .   ovk  ava.t.vofia.1  Oavelv. 

XO.   Se\ofievois  Ae'Yeis  Oavtlv  <re  .   .   . 


xi.).  Here  the  ghosts  are  certainly  approached 
with  regular  necromantic  rites,  blood-offerings  and 
the  like,  and  the  whole  passage  suggests  something 
other  than  the  normal  Homeric  idea  of  the  dead 
as  'strengthless.'  It  may  well  be  that,  while  the 
Acha;an  lords  were  not  ghost- worshippers,  their 
subjects  were,1  and  that  this  bit  of  ritual  has 
percolated  up  from  lower  levels  of  society.  But 
even  here  the  ghosts  are  not  raised  from  their 
graves  or  called  into  the  upper  world ;  nor  have 
they  any  prophetic  powers,  except  Teiresias,  who, 
by  special  grace,  retains  his  old  seer-craft  or  some- 
thing like  it.  The  only  approach  to  the  usual 
idea  of  a  dead  man's  powers  of  divination  is  the 
foresight  shown  by  some  dying  men,  e.g.  Hector.3 

Such  are  the  main  forms  of  Homeric  divination, 
to  which  Hesiod  makes  no  addition,  for  his 
weather  signs  are  simply  crude  meteorology,  with 
nothing  of  magic  about  them. 

2.  Historic  period. — We  now  pass  to  the  historic 
period,  which  we  may  roughly  divide  into  (1)  the 
time  of  Greek  development  and  political  import- 
ance (8th  to  4th  cent.  B.C. — First  Olympiad  to 
the  death  of  Alexander),  and  (2)  the  decadence 
(from  the  4th  cent,  onwards). 

(1)  The  period  of  political  importance. — In  this 
period,  besides  the  Homeric  methods,  several  new 
forms  of  divination  were  introduced,  which  will  be 
briefly  discussed  in  their  proper  place ;  but  the 
chief  feature  of  it  was  the  immense  importance  of 
the  oracular  shrines,  and  particularly  of  three — 
those  of  Zeus  at  Dodona,  of  Apollo  at  Delphi,  and, 
later,  of  Zeus  Ammon.  The  first  of  these  is  un- 
doubtedly of  great  antiquity.3  Homer  *  mentions 
its  priestly  tribe  or  caste,  the  SeXXoi  '  of  unwashen 
feet,  sleepers  on  the  ground ' ;  and  the  way  in 
which  the  oracles  were  given — by  the  sounds  made 
by  the  sacred  oak — suggests  an  ancient  tree- 
worship,  older  than  the  cult  of  Zeus  as  we  know 
it,  and  very  possibly  practised  before  the  god  was 
heard  of.  It  remained  respectable,  though  over- 
shadowed by  Delphi,  until  quite  late  times. 

But  the  greatest  of  all  oracles  was  the  Delphic 
or  Pythian.  From  very  early  times  an  oracle  of 
some  sort  appears  to  have  existed  in  this  lonely 
and  exquisitely  beautiful  place,6  and,  if  we  may 
trust  the  legends,  it  was  held  by  Ge-Themis, 
possibly  in  conjunction  with  Poseidon.  Inspira- 
tion was  given  by  some  sort  of  vapour  rising  from 
a  cleft  in  the  ground ; 6  this  is  so  well  established 
by  ancient  evidence  that  we  cannot  doubt  it, 
although  modern  researches  have  shown  that  no 
large  chasm  existed — in  fact,  thanks  to  the  French 
excavators,  any  one  can  now  see  that  for  himself. 
But,  whatever  it  was,  it  was  enough  to  serve  as 
evidence  of  the  presence  of  a  chthonian  power, 
and  it  was  held  to  inspire  prophecies — possibly  by 
means  of  dream-visions,  the  characteristic  form  of 
earth  oracles.  To  this  old  and  well-established 
shrine  there  came,  at  some  period  of  which  we 
have  no  definite  knowledge,  a  Northern  tribe,7 
who  worshipped  Apollo.  Despite  the  non-chthonian 
character  of  this  god,  Delphi  became  Apolline 
henceforward.  Under  the  management  of  the 
'  Holy  Ones '  ("0<rioi),  it  became  the  most  important 
oracular  shrine  in  Greece,  and  to  some  extent  the 
official  head-centre  of  Hellenic  religion. 

1  For  a  discussion  of  the  whole  question,  see  Rohde,  Psyclte*, 
Tubingen,  1907,  vol.  i.  ch.  i. 

2  See  Divination  (Introductory),  §  6,  'Necromancy.' 

3  See  Farnell,  CGS  i.  38  ff. ;  Bouche-Leclercq,  ii.  277  ff. 

4  II.  xvi.  233  ff . 

8  See  Farnell,  iv.  180 ff.,  for  an  excellent  discussion;  but  in 
our  opinion  he  underestimates  the  part  played  by  the  natural 
advantages  of  the  spot.  The  Greeks  were  extraordinarily 
sensitive  to  beautiful  scenery,  though  not  given  to  sentimental- 
izing about  it. 

«  Cf.  Plutarch,  de  Defect.  Orac.  43. 

7  Crete  also  had  a  traditional  connexion  with  Delphi ;  sea 
Horn.  Hym.  Apoll.  388 ;  Paus.  x.  vi.  7 ;  Pind.  Pyth.  v.  62.  A 
lion's  head  in  Knossian  style  has  been  found  at  Delphi. 


798 


DIVINATION  (Greek) 


Several  methods  of  divination  were  employed  at 
one  time  or  another,  such  as  the  fiavTiKal  4'V'P0h 
which  appear  to  have  resembled  the  Zulu  divining- 
sticks  ;  but  the  usual  procedure  was  by  possession 
(fj.avTi.Kii  Ivdeos).  The  Pythia  or  prophetess,  after 
a  draught  of  water  from  the  underground  spring 
Kassotis,1  seated  herself  upon  the  tripod  in  the 
inner  shrine,  probably  over  the  cleft,  became 
inspired,  and  prophesied.  The  official  interpreters 
(Trpo(j>iJTai)  then  reported  her  utterances,  normally 
in  hexameters.2  The  opportunity  this  gave  for 
very  liberal  '  recension '  of  the  inspired  and  prob- 
ably quite  unintelligible  words  of  the  Pythia  is 
obvious ;  still,  all  oracles  were  supposed  to  come 
through  her  direct,  as  is  shown  by  the  common 
phrase  i)  Hvdia  %P9-  The  theory  was  briefly  this  : 
Zeus  was  omniscient,  and  Apollo  was  his  favourite 
son  and  his  confidant.  Apollo,  therefore,  from  time 
to  time3  made  known  his  father's  will  or  fore- 
knowledge to  such  mortals  as  chose  to  consult  him 
after  due  purification  and  sacrifice,  employing  as 
his  medium  the  Pythia,  who,4  possessed  much  as  a 
shaman  is  possessed  (plena  deo,  in  Vergil's  phrase), 
spoke  not  her  own  words  but  those  of  the  god. 
How  much  of  all  this  the  'Holy  Ones'  believed, 
we  cannot  say ;  certainly  the  oracle  had  immense 
influence,6  especially  in  religious  matters,  where 
it  was,  on  the  whole,  conservative,  except  for  its 
advocacy  of  Dionysiac  worship  and  of  hero-cults. 
In  political  matters  it  usually  avoidsd  any  decided 
position,  though  it  was  philo-Spartan  in  the 
Peloponnesian  war ;  and  a  certain  vagueness  and 
ambiguity  in  all  fore-tellings  of  the  future  saved 
the  god  from  the  disagreeable  position  of  a  false 
prophet.  In  one  respect,  however,  Apollo  seems 
really  to  have  acted  as  a  useful  Information 
Bureau.  Founders  of  colonies  regularly  came  to 
him  for  advice,  and  that  advice  was  generally 
good.  It  may  be,  however,  that  here,  as  in  the 
case  of  codes  of  laws  supposed  to  emanate  from 
Delphi  (vo/ioi  IluSixW"0');  the  god  did  no  more 
than  give  his  approval  to  a  course  already  decided 
upon. 

The  influence  of  Delphi,  and  the  lesser  influence 
of  other  oracles  of  Apollo  (Klaros,  Branchidai, 
etc.),  had  its  effect  on  legend,  as  is  shown  by  the 
persistent  torturing  of  mj'ths  about  ancient  seers 
into  making  the  latter  sons  or  pupils  of  Apollo, 
and  inspired  prophets  rather  than  augurs.  The 
great  bulk  of  the  oracles,  and  their  proverbial 
obscurity,  called  into  existence  a  class  of  inter- 
preters (Q-qyTp-al)  whose  business  it  was  to  reveal 
the  god's  meaning  to  the  less  sharp-witted  public. 
It  was  recognized  that  to  he  a  good  exegete  one 
must  be  something  of  a  diviner  ;  and,  later  on,  in 
the  nonage  of  Greek  culture,  the  collection  and 
interpretation  of  oracles  in  the  light  of  a  degenerate 
philosophy  occupied  such  men  as  Porphyry. 

But  even  Apollo  did  not  extinguish  the  race  of 
divins  libres.  The  craze  for  knowledge  of  the 
future  which  was  very  noticeable  during  the 
Peloponnesian  war  produced  a  demand  for  oracles 
which  was  liberally  met  by  the  circulation  of  the 
prophecies  (xpwpoL)  of  various  ancient  sages,  such 
as  Musaios — among  them  those  of  Bakis,  of  whom 
Aristophanes  makes  such  delightful  sport  in  the 
Knights  and  elsewhere.  At  Athens,  especially, 
prophecies  sprang  up  like  mushrooms,  and  such 
ominous  lines  as  the  famous 

1  See  Farnell,  iv.  188.  The  prophetic  virtues  of  water  from 
sacred  springs  were  widely  recognized. 

2  Other  metres,  and  even  prose,  were  used  later ;  see  Plut. 
de  Pythwe  Oraculis. 

3  The  oracle  could  he  consulted  only  at  certain  seasons 
(eircSiftitat)  and  on  certain 'days. 

4  This  was  a  regular  Apolline  method,  e.g.  at  his  ancient 
cave-shrine  at  Hj'lai  on  the  Mseander. 

5  The  more  so  as  most  gods  had  either  no  oracles  or  none  of 
any  importance.  Hence  we  And  Apollo  consulted,  for  example, 
on  a  question  affecting  the  worship  of  Demeter  at  Eleusis. 


7^£ei  Awpta/cos  iroXeiios  ko.1  Xot/xos  dp.'  avnp,1 
with  its  no  less  terrifying  variant  Xi/ais,  were  in 
every  one's  mouth.  Soothsayers  of  all  kinds  plied 
a  lively  trade.  Nikias  was  especially  dependent 
upon  them,  but  no  general  crossed  a  river  oi 
entered  the  enemy's  country  without  consulting 
the  fiavreis  attached  to  the  army. 

These  official  diviners  practised  an  art  un- 
known to  Homer,  namely,  haruspicy.  Whereas 
the  Homeric  heroes  simply  sacrificed  and  had 
done  with  it,  in  later  Greek  rites  the  victim  was 
required  to  give  a  sign  (by  shaking  its  head  when 
the  libation  was  poured  upon  it)  that  the  god 
accepted  it,  and  the  entrails2  were  inspected  for 
signs  of  Divine  approval  or  disapproval,  especially 
before  a  battle.  Indeed,  there  is  more  than  one 
instance  (notably  at  Platsea)  of  a  general  delaying 
action  for  a  considerable  time  until  at  last  a 
victim's  entrails  gave  a  favourable  omen.  Empyro- 
mancy  was  also  practised,  i.e.  the  observation  of 
the  hre  consuming  the  sacrificial  flesh.  If  it 
burned  low  or  went  out,  it  was  a  bad  sign,  and  so 
on.  This  was  not  restricted  to  altar-flames.  It 
is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  everything  capable 
of  being  affected  by  a  moderate-sized  fire  was 
scrutinized  for  signs  at  one  period  or  another.3 
But  most  of  these  curious  methods  and  most  of 
the  countless  other  forms  of  divination,  of  which 
we  have  no  room  even  to  give  a  list,  were  relatively 
unimportant,  formed  no  part  of  any  State  religion, 
and  were  only  here  and  there  adopted  by  oracles. 
Haruspicy  was  the  normal  official  method,  and  in 
important  matters  an  oracle  was  consulted. 

Dreams,  however,  deserve  separate  mention. 
The  recognized  medium  of  chthonian  oracles,4  they 
were  opposed  by  the  Apolline  cult,  but  found  a 
footing  in  the  worship  of  medicinal  heroes,,  especi- 
ally Asklepios.  The  cult  of  heroes,  indeed,  grew 
very  important  at  this  period,6  and  Asklepios  was 
particularly  popular.  His  shrine  at,  or  rather  near, 
Epidauros — to-day  one  of  the  most  interesting 
ruins  in  Greece — and  many  lesser  shrines  at  Athens 
and  elsewhere,  healed  the  sick  by  means  of  incuba- 
tion (iyKol/j.ri<Tis,  l7/cXi<ris).  The  patient,  after  pre- 
liminary rites,  slept  in  the  temple,  and  in  a  dream 
was  tended  or  advised — generally  the  latter— by 
Asklepios.6  Here,  of  course,  the  medical  knowledge 
of  the  priests  (A<rK\i)iri.a5cu)  came  into  play.  That 
it  was  considerable  is  clear,  both  from  a  number 
of  votive  offerings  describing  treatments  which, 
even  by  modern  standards,  are  quite  scientific, 
and  also  from  the  rise  of  the  Asklepiads  of  Kos 
to  well-earned  renown,  especially  in  the  person  of 
their  greatest  member,  Hippokrates.  But,  even 
apart  from  this,  and  despite  the  vogue  of  Delphi, 
several  heroes,  notably  Trophonios  of  Lebadeia, 
gave  oracles  by  dreams  or  visions. 

Finally,  as  illustrating  the  extent  to  which 
divination  at  this  time  became  a  regular  profession, 
despite  the  theoretical  importance  of  individual 
inspiration,  mention  should  be  made  of  the  great 
prophetic  families — the  Iamidai  of  Elis  and  the 
Melampodidai  of  Akarnania  being  the  most 
famous.'  Alongside  of  these  families  (or  gilds)8 
of  professional  diviners,  we  begin  to  hear  of  that 
curious  figure  of  later  mythology,  the  Sibyl. 

(2)  The  decadence.-r-ln  this  period  we  have  to 
notice,  firstly,  the  weakening  of  the  Greek  genius, 

1  Thuc.  ii.  54. 

2  Especially  the  liver  (hepatoscopy).  See,  for  one  example  of 
many,  Plut.  Vita  Arati,  ch.  xliii.    Cf.  Divination  (Assyr.-Bab.). 

3  See  Bouche-Leclercq,  vol.  i.,  for  a  full  treatment  of  this  and 
other  forms  of  divination,  such  as  lecanomancy. 

4Cf.  Eur.  Iph.  Taur.  1259  f. 

5  It  was,  as  we  have  seen,  favoured  by  Delphi,  so  long  as  the 
monopoly  of  prophecy  was  not  infringed. 

6  See  Aristoph.  Plutus,  for  a  farcical  description. 
V  Bouche-Leclercq.  ii.  62  ft . 

6  The  patronymic  termination  often  connotes  no  more  than 

this  ;  Cf.  '0/J.rjpiSai,  'A<TKK7)TTLa&ai. 


DIVINATION  (Indian) 


799 


and  the  consequent  influence  of  foreign  cults ; 
secondly,  the  part  played  by  philosophy  in  regard 
to  the  belief  in  divination  ;  and,  finally,  the  de- 
generation of  the  great  national  cults,  and  the  con- 
sequent downfall  of  the  official  divination — oracular 
and  otherwise — which  formed  part  of  them. 

Of  the  foreign  ideas  which  came  in  with  the 
backwash  from  Alexander's  conquests,  the  most 
noteworthy  was  the  Chaldseo-Egyptian  belief  in 
astrology.1  Somewhat  modified  by  Greek  ideas, 
it  pervaded  the  whole  of  Western  thought,  and 
became  the  principal  form  of  divination.  This  is 
not  the  place  to  go  into  details  as  to  the  methods 
employed,  but  a  few  salient  points  may  be  noted. 
Firstly,  it  was  almost  wholly  novel.  Ihe  idea  of 
taking  omens  from  the  heavenly  bodies  or  from 
such  phenomena  as  lightning  and  shooting  stars 
is  old  enough  in  Greece,  but  no  elaborate  system, 
and  no  idea  of  anything  like  planetary  influences, 
had  ever  existed.  This  was  the  product  of  the 
sidereal  cults  of  the  East ;  it  is  a  remarkable  fact 
that  the  Greeks  hardly  worshipped  the  heavenly 
bodies  at  all.2  Astrology — this  is  another  notice- 
able fact — aided  the  late  tendency  to  syncretism. 
Thus,  joined  with  the  popularity  of  the  Eastern 
sun-gods,  it  helped  to  identify  Apollo  with  Helios  ; 
Artemis  was  confounded  with  Selene ;  the  ram- 
horned  (and  doubtfully  Hellenic)  Zeus  Ammon 
with  the  sign  Aries,  and  so  on.  Thirdly,  astrology 
invaded  all  branches  of  divination  to  such  an 
extent,  that  we  find  haruspices,  palmists,  etc., 
using  terms  borrowed  from  it,  and  tracing  the 
influence  of  the  stars  in  the  formation  of  beasts' 
entrails  and  the  like. 

Philosophers  of  the  decadence  and  of  the  period 
immediately  preceding  it  (that  in  which  Plato  and 
Aristotle  lived  and  wrote)  were,  on  the  whole, 
favourable  to  divination.  Plato,  at  heart  a  mystic, 
while  outspokenly  contemptuous  of  the  disreput- 
able vendors  of  indulgences  and  oracles,  was  by 
no  means  adverse  to  beliefs  in  the  supernatural, 
and,  in  fact,  seems  to  have  held  that  divination 
was  not  only  possible,  but  a  reality  ; s  and  his  late 
followers,  the  Neo-Platonists,  who  constructed  an 
elaborate  system  of  Hal/ioves  on  the  basis  of  the 
Timmus,  found  therein  a  full  and  satisfactory 
explanation  of  oracles.  Epicurus,  indeed,  whose 
system  denied  Providence  and  Divine  interest  or 
interference  in  human  affairs,  was  hostile  to  the 
pretensions  of  diviners  ;  but  the  Stoics  passionately 
championed  astrology,  as  evidence  of  their  doctrine 
of  Fate.4  The  degenerate  and  mongrel  system, 
which  goes  by  the  name  of  Neo-Pythagoreanism, 
was  freely  credulous  of  all  marvels,  divination 
included,  and  produced  its  own  inspired  prophet, 
Apollonios  of  Tyana  (q.v.). 

Under  pressure  of  foreign  cults,  including  finally 
Mithraism  and  Christianity,  the  ancient  State 
religions  of  Greece  became  gradually  weaker  ;  and 
this  inevitably  entailed  a  decline  in  the  importance 
of  the  oracles,  and  of  official  diviners.  Indi- 
vidualism also  was  rampant,  as  is  shown  by  the 
popularity  of  the  post- Aristotelian  philosophies ; 
ana  this  meant  that  divination  became  more  and 
more  of  a  private  affair.  While  it  is  wholly  untrue 
that  the  oracles  ceased  at  the  coming  of  Christ,5 
it  is  a  fact  that  by  about  100  A.D.  they  were 
no  longer  of   great  importance;6    indeed,   quite 

1  Bouche-Leclercq,  ii.  ch.  vi. ;  cf.  art.  Stars  (Greek). 

2  Even  the  sun  is  unimportant,  as  is  indicated  by  the  extreme 
rarity  of  names  such  as  Heliodoros  or  Heliades  before  the  3rd 
cent.  B.C.  The  attempts  made  to  identify  any  of  the  leading 
Hellenic  deities  (save  Zeus,  who  is  vaguely  a  sky-god)  with 
celestial  phenomena  are  without  exception  unsatisfactory. 

8  Socrates  had  certainly  been  of  that  opinion  before  him. 
*  E.g.  Manilius,  iv.  14  f. 

5  The  tale  is  an  invention  of  Christian  apologists,  who  con- 
sidered oracles  the  work  of  evil  spirits.  Archaeological  evidence 
alone  is  quite  conclusive  against  it. 

6  See  Plut.  de  Defect.  Orac.,  and  de  Pytkiee  Orac. 


apart  from  other  causes,  the  political  insignificance 
of  Greece  meant,  sooner  or  later,  the  insignifi- 
cance of  her  great  religious  institutions.  Finally, 
Christian  opposition  for  the  most  part  stamped  out 
pagan  divination. 

There  were,  however,  survivals.  Astrology 
lingered  on  despite  theological  denunciations — 
political  opposition  it  had  already  endured  for 
centuries — and  still  survives.  Oneiromancy,  which 
had  grown  into  a  most  complicated  science,  still 
retained  a  considerable  hold  on  popular  belief. 
Finally,  the  prophecies  of  the  Sibyl  or  Sibyls — the 
number  and  names  vary J — being  in  later  times  of 
Judseo-Christian  origin,  were  hospitably  received 
and  ranked  almost  equal  with  the  Hebrew  prophets. 
'  The  old  man  is  Sibyl-mad,'  says  Aristophanes' 
slave  of  his  master  Demos ;  and  in  the  Middle 
Ages  her  name  was  still  held  in  reverence  ;  '  Teste 
Dauid  cum  Sibylla.' 

Literature. — A.  Bouche*-Leclercq,  Hist,  de  la  divination 
dans  Vantiq.,  vols,  i.-iii.,  Paris,  1879-1880  ;  L.  R.  Farnell,  Cult$ 
of  the  Greek  States,  Oxford,  1896  ff.,  esp.  vol.  i.  (Zeus)  and  vol.  iv. 
(Apollo).  The  former  work  gives  a  full  bibliograph}'  of  earliei 
writings.  H.  J.  KOSE. 

DIVINATION  (Indian).— In  India,  divination 
has  gone  through  two  phases  of  development. 
Originally  it  seems  to  have  been  practised  chiefly 
with  the  intention  of  obviating  the  evil  conse- 
quences of  omens  and  portents  ;  in  the  later  period, 
rather  to  ascertain  the  exact  nature  of  the  good  or 
evil  which  those  signs  were  supposed  to  indicate. 
Both  phases  presuppose  the  firm  belief  in  omens 
and  portents,  which  appears  to  be  a  common  feature 
of  primitive  culture.  In  India  this  belief  can  be 
traced  back  to  the  Vedic  Samhitas  :  birds  are  in- 
voked to  be  auspicious,  and  certain  birds,  especially 
pigeons  and  owls,  are  said  to  be  messengers  of  death 
(Nirrti,  Yama).2  A  great  many  details  are  furnished 
by  later  Vedic  books,  especially  the  A  dbhuta  Brah- 
mana, which  forms  the  last  chapter  of  the  Sadvimia 
Brahmana  of  the  Samaveda,  and  the  13th  chapter 
of  the  KauSika  Sutra  of  the  Atharvaveda.8  The 
subjects  treated  in  the  12  paragraphsof  the  Adbhuta 
Brahmana  are,  according  to  Weber's 4  enumeration : 
common  incidents,  diseases  of  men  and  cattle,  agri- 
cultural calamities,  loss  of  ornaments,  earthquakes, 
phenomena  in  the  air  and  the  sky,  miraculous  hap- 
penings to  altars  and  idols,  electrical  phenomena, 
monsters ;  in  each  case  the  god  is  named  to  whose 
province  the  particular  incident  belongs,  and  the 
mantra,  or  the  ceremony  for  the  expiation  of  the 
evil  sign,  is  prescribed.  The  second  treatise  is 
similar  to  the  first  ;  but  it  differs  from  it  in  this, 
that  in  it  the  omens  and  portents  are  more  special- 
ized and  more  varied,  and  that  the  Brahman  who 
is  to  prescribe  the  remedy  for  them  must  belong  to 
the  Atharvaveda.  The  last  point  need  not  surprise 
us,  for  that  Veda  was  largely  engaged  with  occa- 
sional and  optional  practices,  with  charms  and 
spells ;  hence  the  house-priest  (purohita)  of  the 
king,  who  had  to  ward  off  the  evil  influences  which 
menaced  king  and  country,  was  required  to  be 
deeply  versed  in  the  secret  lore  of  the  Atharvaveda. 
Therefore  all  that  refers  to  mantic  and  magic  was 
naturally  believed  to  come  within  the  province  of 
that  Veda.  The  last  contribution  to  it  is  the  72 
Parttistas  (appendixes  or  paralipomena),6  treatises 
on  different  subjects  connected  with  the  Atharva- 
veda. Some  of  them  are  of  comparatively  late 
age,  since  they  betray  an  acquaintance  with 
Greek  astronomy.      About  a   third   part  of  this 

1  See  Bouche-Leclercq,  ii.  ch.  iii. 

2  Eigv.  ii.  42,  43,  x.  165  ;  Atharv.  vi.  27-29  ;  cf.  Aitareya 
Brahmana,  ii.  15.  14. 

3  Both  treatises  have  been  edited,  translated,  and  commented 
upon  by  A.  Weber  (Zwei  vedische  Texte  ilber  Omina  und  Por- 
tenta,  Berlin,  1859,  p.  313  ff.). 

4  Ind.  Literaturgesch.",  Berlin,  1878,  p.  76. 

6  The  PariHs^as  of  the  Atharvaveda,  ed.  G.  Melville  Boiling 
and  Julius  von  Negelein,  Leipzig,  1909-10. 


800 


DIVINATION  (Indian) 


work  deals  with  prognostics,  especially  from  pheno- 
mena in  the  atmosphere  and  the  heavens.  Here 
we  find  divination  in  its  later  development,  i.e. 
with  the  object  of  predicting  future  events.  But 
the  expiatory  ceremonies  and  mantras,  so  charac- 
teristic of  the  preceding  period,  continued  to  he 
looked  upon  as  important  matter  ;  thus  the  67th 
Pariiista,  called  Adbhutaidnti,  is,  on  the  whole,  a 
metrical  paraphrase  of  part  of  the  Adbhuta  Brah- 
mana  mentioned  above. 

The  art  of  divination  with  which  we  have  dealt 
as  yet  was  part  of  the  religion,  especially  of  the 
Atharva  priest,  who  was  the  orthodox  soothsayer. 
There  were  probably  already  in  early  times  sooth- 
sayers and  fortune-tellers  of  no  religious  character 
(naimittika,  mauhurtika,1  samudrika)  who  made 
single  branches  of  prognostics  their  speciality.  But 
the  whole  art  of  divination  became  independent  of 
religion  when  Greek  astronomy  and  astrology  were 
introduced  into  India  in  the  early  centuries  of  our 
era.  The  astrologer  possessed  what  was  believed 
to  be  a  real  science  of  prediction,  the  accuracy  of 
which  was  uncontestably  proved  in  one  branch  of 
his  science— the  astronomical — and  was,  therefore, 
readily  believed  in  in  the  other — the  astrological 
one.  For  astronomy  and  astrology  were  in  India, 
as  indeed  also  in  Europe  till  quite  recently,  but 
two  branches  of  one  science.  And  the  Indian 
astrologer  added  to  these  two  branches  a  third — 
the  art  of  divination,  hitherto  practised  by  the 
Atharva  priest.  We  shall  call  the  latter  natural 
astrology,  in  contradistinction  to  judicial  astrology 
adopted  from  the  Greeks.  An  accomplished  as- 
trologer or  astronomer  (jyotisa)  had  to  know 
astronomy,  judicial  astrology  (hora),  and  natural 
astrology.2  Judicial  astrology  is  subdivided  into 
(1)  nativity  (jataka) ;  (2)  prognostics  for  journeys, 
especially  marches  of  princes  in  war  (ydtrd)  ;  and 
(3)  horoscopy  for  weddings  (vivdha).  Natural 
astrology  is  treated  in  works  which  are  called 
Samhita.  The  best  known  Saihhita  is  the  Brhat 
Samhita  of  Varaha  Mihira,  written  about  the 
middle  of  the  6th  cent.  A.D.,  on  which  an  extensive 
and  very  valuable  commentary  was  composed  by 
Bhattotpala  in  the  9th  century.3  The  contents  of 
the  Brhat  Samhita  may  serve  as  a  summary  of  the 
original  Indian  art  of  divination — of  course,  in  its 
last  stage  of  development.  We  therefore  tran- 
scribe Varaha  Mihira's  enumeration  of  them  (ii.  5, 
tr.  H.  Kern,  JRAS,  1869)  : 

'  The  course  of  the  Bun  and  of  the  other  eight  planets,  and,  dur- 
ing it,  their  natural  and  unnatural  symptoms,  their  size,  colour, 
and  brightness  of  the  rays,  their  shape,  risings  and  settings,  their 
roads  and  deviations,  their  retrograde  and  post-retrograde  mo- 
tions, the  conjunctions  of  planets  with  asterisms,  etc.,  as  well  as 
the  respective  consequences  for  the  different  parts  of  the  globe ; 
the  course  of  Canopus,  the  course  of  the  Seven  Seers  (Great 
Bear),  the  division  of  things  as  belonging  to  the  domain  of  each 
planet,  the  same  as  appertaining  to  the  domain  of  each  asterism, 
the  conjunction  of  the  five  planets  in  the  figure  of  a  triangle, 
etc.,  the  planetary  war,  the  conjunction  of  the  five  planets  with 
the  moon,  the  effects  produced  by  the  planets  on  the  years  pre- 
sided over  by  them,  the  symptoms  of  pregnancy  of  the  clouds, 
the  conjunction  of  the  moon  with  Rohini,  with  Svati,  with 
Asadha ;  the  forebodings  of  instant  rain,  the  conclusions  to  be 
drawn  from  the  growth  of  flowers  and  plants  as  to  the  produce 
of  trees  and  crops,  the  mock-sun,  the  halo,  the  cloudy  line 
piercing  the  sun's  disk  at  rising  or  setting,  the  wind,  the  meteors, 
the  glow  of  the  sky,  the  earthquake,  the  glowing  red  of  twilight, 
the  Fata  Morgana,  the  dust  rain,  the  typhoon,  the  cheapness  or 
dearth  of  the  products  of  the  earth,  the  prognostics  for  the 
growth  of  corn,  the  banner  of  Indra,  the  rainbow,  architecture, 
palmistry,  the  auspicious  or  ill-lucky  movements  of  crows,  the 
augural  circle,  the  movements  of  wild  beasts,  of  horses,  the  circle 
of  winds,  the  good  or  bad  signs  of  temples,  of  statues,  the  conse- 
cration of  statues,  the  treatment  of  trees,  the  observation  of  the 

1  The  mauhurtika  is  the  predecessor  of  the  astrologer  proper. 
Cbanakya,  who  wrote  about  300  B.C.,  mentions  the  mauhurtika 
(Kautiliyam,  Mysore,  1909,  ,p.  38),  while  Kamandaki,  a  late  ad- 
herent of  Kautilya's  school,  speaks  of  Hora-rjaQila-tattuavid 
(The  Nitisdra.'bv  Kamandaki,  Calcutta,  1884,  iv.  33). 

'H.  Kern,  Brihat  Samhita,  Calcutta,  1865,  Preface,  p.  20  ff. 

8  Edited,  together  with  the  text,  in  the  Vizianagram  series, 
1896-97. 


soil  for  finding  veins  of  water,  the  lustration,  the  sight  of 
wagtails,  the  allaying  the  influence  of  portents,  miscellaneous 
matters,  the  anointment  of  a  king ;  the  signs  of  swords,  of 
ornamental  goldplates,  of  cocks,  of  tortoises,  of  cows,  of  goats, 
of  horses,  of  elephants,  of  men,  of  women  ;  reflections  on  woman- 
kind ;  the  prognostics  of  boils,  of  shoes,  of  torn  garments,  of 
chowries,  of  umbrella-sticks,  of  couches  and  Beats,  the  examina- 
tion of  jewels,  the  foretokens  at  a  lamp,  the  good  or  bad  signs  of 
tooth-sticks,  etc.,  such  as  occur  in  common  life  to  everybody  as 
well  as  to  kings, — all  these  things  have  every  moment  to  be 
considered  by  an  astrologer  with  undivided  attention.' 

As  the  astrologer  had  thus  appropriated  all 
prognostics  to  himself  that  had  belonged  to  the 
Atharva  priest,  he  became  the  successful  rival  of 
the  latter.  This  change  must  have  set  in  during 
the  2nd  or  3rd  cent.  A.D.  ;  for  Garga,  an  early 
predecessor  of  Varaha  Mihira,  had  proclaimed  : 

'The  king  who  does  not  honour  a  scholar  accomplished  in 
horoscopy  and  astronomy,  clever  in  all  branches  and  accessaries, 
comes  to  grief.'  '  As  the  night  without  a  light,  as  the  sky 
without  the  sun,  so  is  a  king  without  an  astrologer ;  like  a  blind 
man  he  erreth  on  the  road '  (ib.  ii.  7.  9). 

It  is  beyond  the  scope  of  the  present  article  to 
enter  into  details  about  judicial  astrology  as  taught 
by  the  Hindus ;  but  it  must  be  noticed  that  they 
have  also  adopted  Muhammadan  astrology,  and 
treated  it,  under  the  name  tdjika,  as  distinct  from 
the  Greek  astrology,  or  jataka. 

There  are  several  branches  of  prognostics  which 
seem  early  to  have  been  cultivated  by  specialists, 
and  in  some  degree  to  have  become  independent 
disciplines.  To  this  category  belonged  the  inter- 
pretation of  dreams.  The  belief  in  the  significance 
of  dreams  is  already  found  in  the  Rigveda  (viii. 
47,  14  ff.) ;  dreams  indicating  death  are  enumerated 
in  the  Aitareya  Aranyaka,  iii.  2,  4  ;  the  expiation 
of  evil  dreams  is  treated  in  KauUka  Sutra,  xl vi.  9  ff. , 
and  in  the  Grhya  Sutras.  The  68th  Pariiista  of 
the  Atharvaveda,  called  Svapnddhydya,  deals  with 
oneiromancy,  and  so  do  several  Puranas  in  a.  chap- 
ter bearing  the  same  name,  and  some  separate 
works  (see,  further,  art.  Dreams  [Vedic]).*  In- 
terpreters of  dreams,  their  dream-book,  and  its 
contents  are  frequently  mentioned  by  the  Jains.2 
Another  important  branch  of  prognostics  is  the 
interpretation  of  the  marks  of  the  body,  including 
palmistry  and  physiognomy.  It  is  an  ancient 
discipline,  for  it  is  a  tenet  of  the  Buddhists  that 
Buddha  possessed  the  32  lucky  marks  (mahdpurusa- 
laksana)  and  the  80  minor  marks.  The  art  of 
interpreting  bodily  marks  is  called  samudrika,  and 
several  works  treating  of  it  are  extant ;  those  who 
practise  it  are  also  called  samudrika.  Augury 
proper  (idkuna)  is,  as  we  saw  above,  a  very  old 
branch  of  divination  ;  it  has  been  developed  in  the 
course  of  time.  A  very  full  dissertation  on  this 
subject  is  given  by  Eugen  Hultzsch,  Prolegomena 
zu  des  Vasantardja's  Cdkuna,  Leipzig,  1879.* 
Finally,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  sortilege  was 
also  practised  in  India ;  a  specimen  of  this  kind 
of  divination  is  published  by  A.  Weber,  '  Uber  ein 
indisches  Wurfel-Orakel '  {MBA  W,  1859). 

The  Jains  also  practised  the  art  of  divination. 
According  to  them,  it  had  eight  branches  (atthahga- 
mahanimitta  \Kalpasutra,  i.  §  64]),  which  are 
specified  in  the  commentary  to  the  passage  in  ques- 
tion :  divya,  utpata,  dntariksa,  bhauma,  ahga, 
svara,  laksana,  and  vyanjana ;  in  another  enumera- 
tion the  same  names  are  given,  only  that  svapna  is 
added,  and  divya  is  omitted.  As  far  as  can  be 
judged  from  this  division,  the  Jain  system  of  prog- 
nostics must,  on  the  whole,  have  been  similar  to 
that  of  the  Hindus  in  general. 

Literature. — Besides  the  works  quoted  in  the  course  of  the 
article,  see  A.  Hillebrandt,  '  Rituallitteratur,'  GIAP,  Strass- 
burg,  1897,  p.  182,  and  the  literature  quoted  there,  p.  184  f. 

Hermann  Jacobi. 

1  For  further  details,  see  Pischel,  in  ZDMG  xl.  (1886)  111  ff. 

2  Kalpamtra  of  Bhadrabahu,  ed.  Jacobi,  Leipzig,  1879,  pp.  1. 
74  (SBE  xxii.  246). 

3  The  whole    text,    Vasantardja  Sakunam,  was   edited 
Bombay,  1S84. 


DIVINATION  (Japanese) 


801 


DIVINATION  (Japanese).  —  I.  Definition.— 
The  Japanese  for  '  divination  '  is  ura  or  urana/ii.  If 
we  consult  the  '  Vocabulary  of  the  most  ancient 
Words  of  the  Japanese  Language'  (TASJ,  vol.  xvi. 
pt.  3,  p.  280),  we  find  that,  according  to  B.  H. 
Chamberlain,  the  old  word  ura  signifies :  '  the 
back  or  hind  part  of  anything,  inside,  the  reverse  ; 
hence  the  heart,  the  mind,  divination  of  things 
unseen,  soothsaying.'  The  primitive  meaning  is 
clearly  seen  in  present-day  phrases  :  e.g.  te  no  ura 
means  the  palm  of  the  hand  ;  kimono  no  ura,  the 
inside  of  a  coat ;  ura  no  ie,  a  back-house.  From 
this  we  see  that,  for  the  Japanese,  the  idea  of 
divination  does  not  necessarily  involve  a  predic- 
tion, but  only  the  discovery  of  something  hidden 
— present,  past,  or  future,  it  may  be  employed  not 
only  to  find  out  whether  such  and  such  an  event 
will  occur  in  the  future,  whether  it  will  be  lucky 
or  the  opposite,  etc.,  but  also  to  reveal  the  present 
will  of  the  gods  on  such  and  such  a  point,  and 
even  to  discover  why  a  certain  event — generally 
an  untoward  one— has  occurred  in  the  past. 

2.  Objects. — To  get  a  good  idea  of  the  various 
objects  of  divination,  we  have  only  to  look  through 
the  ancient  Shinto  documents,  beginning  with  the 
Kojiki.  Even  in  the  very  first  pages  of  the  sacred 
story  we  find  divination  playing  a  part  in  the  life 
of  the  primitive  couple  :  Izanagi  and  Izanami  have 
produced  badly-formed  children  ;  the  cause  is  dis- 
covered by  divination,  viz.  that  in  the  marriage 
ceremony  the  woman  had  spoken  first  (see  Kojiki, 
tr.  B.  H.  Chamberlain,  p.  22).  An  eclipse  of  the 
sun  takes  place  ;  the  gods  have  recourse  to  various 
magical  processes  in  order  to  stop  it,  and  among 
these  is  divination — employed,  no  doubt,  to  dis- 
cover the  will  of  the  Sun-goddess  (ib.  64).  At  a 
later  period,  one  of  the  first  emperors,  Suinin,  who 
had  a  son  afflicted  with  dumbness,  learns  in  a 
dream  that  his  child  will  be  able  to  speak  if  a 
temple  is  built  to  a  certain  god,  who  does  not 
reveal  his  name ;  by  a  process  of  divination  the 
sovereign  discovers  the  identity  of  the  god,  and 
removes  the  curse  {ib.  237  f.).  Outside  of  these 
longer  mythological  tales,  we  see  divination 
practised  in  innumerable  other  cases,  especially 
in  the  Nihongi.  It  is  employed  to  foretell  the 
result  of  a  military  expedition  (see  Nihongi,  tr. 
W.  G.  Aston,  vol.  i.  pp.  121,  227,  237) ;  to  reveal 
the  cause  of  plague,  rebellion,  and  other  public 
calamities  (i.  152)  or  private  misfortunes  (ii.  102) ; 
to  discover  what  person  is  to  be  entrusted  with 
the  cult  of  a  god  (i.  153,  177) ;  what  offerings  must 
be  made  to  the  god  (i.  178) ;  whether  the  Emperor 
should  make  sacrifices  in  person  or  send  a  repre- 
sentative (i.  189,  190) ;  why  the  Emperor's  soup 
almost  froze  into  ice  one  day  (this  was  due  to  a 
case  of  incest  in  the  court,  i.  324) ;  what  place 
should  be  selected  for  building  a  tomb  (i.  355)  or  a 
palace  (ii.  95) ;  what  was  signified  by  a  mysterious 
omen  (ii.  59,  306).  Finally,  in  addition  to  these 
cases  officially  reported  in  the  ancient  chronicles, 
we  find  divination  constantly  invoked  in  the  life 
of  individuals  in  more  humble  circumstances  — 
from  the  maiden  seeking  to  know  when  she  will 
have  a  husband  and  what  will  be  his  name,  to  the 
person  who  is  anxious  to  recover  a  lost  possession 
or  to  find  the  track  of  a  thief.  In  the  poems  of 
the  ManySshiu,  which  give  us  a  very  true  and 
vivid  picture  of  ancient  Japanese  civilization, 
divination  is  employed  fairly  often  in  the  relations 
between  lovers  and  married  people  (see  these 
poems  in  Satow,  '  Ancient  Japanese  Rituals,' 
TASJ,  vol.  vii.  pt.  4,  p.  446  ff.,  and  in  F.  V. 
Dickins,  Primitive  and  Mediaeval  Japanese  Texts, 
Oxf.  1906,  Romanized  texts,  pp.  125,  142  f.,  and 
Translations,  pp.  204,  227  f.). 

Divination  was  a  regular  process  in  certain 
essential  points  of  Shinto  worship :  it  was  by 
vol.  IV. — 51 


divination  that  the  priestess  of  the  Sun  was 
chosen  at  Ise  (see  esp.  Nihongi,  i.  176) ;  that  -nore 
generally,  the  ceremonial  purity  of  aU  those 
taking  any  part  in  religious  rites  was  ascer- 
tained; that  it  was  determined,  at  the  great 
festival  of  the  first-fruits  (Ohonihe)  held  at  the 
accession  of  the  Emperors,  from  which  provinces 
the  sacred  rice  should  be  brought,  what  local 
persons  should  prepare  it,  etc.  At  court,  a  special 
divination  took  place  annually,  on  the  10th  of  the 
12th  month,  to  find  out  what  misfortunes  were  to 
be  feared  for  the  Emperor  in  the  coming  months, 
and  to  provide  propitiatory  measures  accordingly. 

3.  General  character. — Aston  says  (Shinto,  338) 
that,  though  the  art  may  very  probably  have 
'passed  through  a  non-religious  phase,'  yet  'the 
cases  met  with  in  the  oldest  records  are  commonly 
associated,  explicitly  or  implicitly,  with  an  appeal 
for  divine  guidance ' ;  and  he  quotes  Hirata's  de- 
finition of  divination  as  '  respectfully  inquiring  the 
heart  (ura)  of  the  gods.'  This  view  seems  to 
exaggerate  to  a  certain  extent  the  religious  side 
of  divination  at  the  expense  of  its  magical  aspect. 
In  fact,  in  the  most  ancient  documents,  divination 
appears  to  be,  above  all,  a  mechanical  process,  the 
virtue  of  which  resides  in  the  ritual  performances 
rather  than  in  the  will  of  the  gods.  A  clear  proof 
of  this  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  gods  were  no  wiser 
than  men  in  obscure  affairs,  and  had  themselves 
to  resort  to  divination  for  light.  As  is  shown  by 
their  name  Kami,  they  are  '  superior '  beings  ;  but 
their  superiority  is  relative,  and  they  are  distin- 
guished from  men  by  a  difference,  not  of  nature, 
but  only  of  degree.  Therefore,  they  are  not  en- 
dowed, in  the  intellectual  order,  with  the  omni- 
science attributed  by  more  advanced  religions  to 
their  Deity.  They  are  constantly  in  perplexity, 
and  require  the  wisdom  of  a  general  assembly  to 
guide  them  (see  Kojiki,  63,  112,  etc.). 

The  Counsellor-deity,  Omohi-kane,  who  gives  advice  on  these 
occasions,  does  not  seem  to  be  quite  infallible :  when  the  gods 
are  deliberating  on  means  of  'pacifying'  the  country  which 
the  future  Emperor  is  to  rule,  Omohi-kane  proposes  that  an 
ambassador — whom  he  himself  selects  —  should  be  sent;  the 
ambassador  does  not  return ;  Omohi-kane  chooses  a  second, 
who  behaves  in  the  same  way  as  the  first ;  he  then  finds  a 
third,  who  is  slain;  and  only  after  these  three  unsuccessful 
attempts  does  he  finally  succeed  (Kojiki,  112  ff.).  The  gods  in 
their  celestial  abode  do  not  know  what  is  happening  on  the 
earth :  when  they  learn  of  the  death  of  the  third  ambassador 
— the  Pheasants— they  do  so  only  by  means  of  the  arrow  that 
killed  him  flying  to  the  plains  of  high  heaven  and  falling 
bloody  at  their  feet  (Kojiki,  115).  The  gods,  indeed,  have  no 
knowledge  of  the  present,  past,  and  future.  Their  first 
ambassador,  Ame  no  ho-hi,  made  friends  with  Oho-kuni-nushi, 
whose  submission  he  was  sent  to  obtain  ;  they  do  not  know 
this  fact.  After  three  years,  being  uneasy  at  having  received 
no  news,  they  send  Ame-waka-hiko,  who  straightway  marries 
Shita-teru-hime,  the  daughter  of  Oho-kuni-nushi,  and  then 
devotes  his  whole  energies  to  making  the  conquest  for  himself ; 
they  know  nothing  of  this  treason.  It  is  not  until  eight  years 
afterwards  that  they  decide  to  send  the  Pheasant  to  try  to  get 
some  news,  and  they  have  no  more  fore-knowledge  of  the 
accident  of  which  he  is  to  be  the  victim  than  they  had  of  the 
former  events  (Kojiki,  113  f.).  If  their  knowledge  of  material 
facts  is  thus  limited,  a  fortiori  they  cannot  guess  what  is 
taking  place  within  hearts  :  when  they  curse  the  murderer  of 
the  Pheasant,  their  formula  is  conditional,  because  they  do 
not  know  what  his  real  intentions  may  have  been  (Kojiki,  115). 
It  is  for  this  reason — because  they  cannot  penetrate  what  is 
hidden — that  they  have  recourse  to  divination.  In  the  case 
of  the  first  children  of  Izanagi  and  Izanami,  mentioned  above, 
we  are  told  that  these  two  deities  '  ascended  to  Heaven  and 
inquired  of  their  Augustnesses  the  Heavenly  Deities,'  and  that 
then  '  the  Heavenly  Deities  found  out  by  the  great  divination ' 
an  answer  to  their  inquiry  (Kojiki,  22)  ;  similarly,  in  the  eclipse- 
myth  we  see  '  the  eight  hundred  myriad  Deities  assemble  in  a 
divine  assembly  '  and  '  perform  divination.' 

This  procedure  manifestly  lowers  the  gods  to 
the  level  of  men,  making  one  and  the  same  fate 
hover  over  all.  Primitive  Shinto  seems  to  admit, 
without  naming  it,  a  vague  impersonal  Power, 
like  the  Moira  of  Homer  at  the  time  before  Zeus 
was  the  Moiragetes.  Later,  the  Japanese  theo- 
logians, like  the  Greek  poets,  were  very  much 
embarrassed  by  this  ancient  idea,  which  flattered 


802 


DIVINATION  (Japanese) 


aeither  the  wisdom  nor  the  power  of  their  gods. 
Was  it  not  strange,  for  example,  that,  on  being 
consulted  by  the  first  couple,  the  greatest  gods 
should  show  themselves  unable  to  reply  until  they 
in  their  turn  had  appealed  to  some  sort  of  superior 
intelligence?  Hirata,  who  is  always  ingenious, 
tries  to  solve  the  question  by  comparing  them  to 
a  prince  who  has  entrusted  a  particular  function 
to  each  of  his  servants,  and  who,  on  being  asked 
for  information  on  any  point  whatever,  begs  the 
questioner  to  apply  to  the  person  who  is  best 
informed  on  the  subject ;  but  this  ulterior  excuse 
of  an  apologist  cannot  efface  the  impression  left 
on  us  by  the  texts.  In  a  word,  since  gods  as  well 
as  men  must  have  recourse  to  divination,  it  is  very 
probable  that,  in  ancient  Shinto,  divination  was 
an  affair  of  magic  far  more  than  of  religion. 

4.  Various  forms.  —  (a)  Official  divination.  — 
Having  made  this  important  point  clear,  we  shall 
now  examine  the  forms  of  this  magical  operation. 
We  must  distinguish  between  the  official  proced- 
ure, i.e.  the  '  Greater  Divination,'  and  other  minor 
proceedings.  The  'Greater  Divination'  consisted 
in  omoplatoseopy ,  a  process  which  is  met  with  not 
only  among  the  Chinese  and  other  races  of  the 
North  -  East  of  Asia,  but  also  among  certain 
Western  peoples,  like  the  ancient  Germans,  the 
Greeks  ancient  and  modern,  and  even,  down  to 
within  a  recent  date,  the  Highlanders  of  Scotland 
(the  custom  of  '  reading  the  speal ').  In  primitive 
Japan,  omoplatoseopy  was  practised  by  flaying  the 
shoulder-blade  of  a  deer  over  a  bright  fire  and 
watching  the  cracks  produced  upon  it  by  the  heat. 
This  was  the  form  of  divination  resorted  to  by 
the  gods  in  the  circumstances  already  mentioned, 
and  we  find  that  it  was  under  the  special  care  of 
the  god  Koyane,  the  legendary  ancestor  of  the 
Nakatomi,  or  hereditary  corporation  of  priests 
representing  the  Emperor  in  his  sacerdotal  func- 
tions (see  esp.  Kojiki,  64,  and  cf.  a  variant  in 
Nihongi,  i.  82  f.,  which  claims  to  give  the  mythical 
origin  of  the  custom  by  telling  how  the  god 
Koyane,  at  the  command  of  the  great  god  Taka- 
mi-musubi,  '  was  made  to  divine  by  means  of  the 
Greater  Divination,  and  thus  to  do  his  service'). 
Similarly,  when  we  find  the  Emperor  commanding 
a  divination,  which  is  then  carried  out  by  the 
Palace  college  of  diviners,  it  is  the  '  Greater  Divina- 
tion '  that  is  meant,  though  the  text  simply  speaks 
of  '  divination '  without  rurther  epithet.  This 
practice  underwent  modification  very  early  by  the 
substitution,  in  the  place  of  the  deer's  shoulder- 
blade,  of  the  tortoise  carapace  employed  by  the 
Chinese.  This  innovation  was  undoubtedly  facili- 
tated by  the  fact  that  the  tortoise  already  held  an 
important  place  in  native  Japanese  mythology 
(Kojiki,  160;  Nihongi,  i.  113,  182,  etc.). 

The  first  reference  to  it  is  found  in  the  Nihongi  (i.  162) :  the 
Emperor  Sujin,  in  the  year  91  b.o.,  wishing  to  discover  the 
cause  of  various  calamities  which  had  laid  waste  the  country, 
decided  '  to  commit  the  matter  to  the  Sacred  Tortoise ' ;  but 
this  detail  is  certainly  an  anachronism,  as  indeed  is  the  whole 
context  in  which  it  appears,  for  we  find  the  Emperor  attributing 
national  calamities  to  his  personal  faults,  in  accordance  with 
Chinese  theory.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  substitution  must 
have  taken  place  about  the  year  553,  when  some  Koreans,  of 
high  repute  in  the  art  of  divination,  came  to  exercise  their 
talents  at  the  Japanese  court.  The  Nihongi  story  shows  us, 
at  least,  that  the  tortoise  carapace  was  the  usual  means  of 
divination  at  the  time  of  its  composition,  i.e.  in  the  8th  cent., 
and  the  Engishiki  (10th  cent.)  mentions  no  other  process  in 
the  descriptions  of  the  official  cult. 

It  was  only  in  certain  provinces  that  the  deer's 
shoulder-blade  of  the  primitive  mythology  con- 
tinued to  be  employed.  Just  as  the  tortoise  cara- 
pace was  always  used,  it  is  said,  in  the  island  of 
Hachijo,  where  there  were  no  deer  or  other  large 
quadrupeds,  but  where  the  waters  abounded  in 
tortoises,  the  deer's  shoulder-blade  remained  in 
use,  long  after  the  introduction  of  the  Chinese 
custom,  in  certain  villages ;  this  survival  is  men- 


tioned in  old  writings  even  at  the  end  of  the  17th 
cent,  (see  Satow,  loc.  cit.  453).  It  can,  moreover, 
be  observed  even  to-day  among  the  Ainu  (see 
N.  G.  Munro,  'Some  Origins  and  Survivals,'  in 
TASJ,  vol.  xxxviii.  pt.  3  [1911],  p.  46). 

(b)  Secondary  forms. — Of  secondary  and  non- 
official  forms  of  divination  the  principal  was  tsuji- 
ura,  or  'cross-roads  divination.'  We  find  in  the 
poems  of  the  Manydshiu  that  it  was  employed 
chiefly  by  women  and  lovers.  The  persons  having 
recourse  to  this  form  of  divination  went  to  the 
cross-roads  at  dusk  (whence  the  other  frequent 
name  of  yufu-ura,  '  evening  divination '),  planted 
a  stick  in  the  ground,  and  then  took  the  remarks 
of  the  passers-by  as  an  answer  to  what  they 
wanted  to  know.  In  this  rite,  the  stick  represents 
Funado,  the  staff  which  Izanagi  drove  into  the 
sand  when  leaving  Hades,  in  order  to  check  the 
pursuit  of  the  infernal  deities  (just  as  the  American 
Indians  use  staffs  to  drive  off  the  spirits  of  the 
dead),  and  which  was  afterwards  transformed  into 
a  phallic  god,  a  powerful  preserver  of  life,  grant- 
ing protection  from  the  diseases  sent  by  the 
under- world  demons,  and  at  the  same  time  filling 
the  r61e  of  patron  of  travellers  (see  Revon,  Le 
Shinnto'isme,  321).  Still  another  method  of  tsuji- 
ura  was  practised  by  women.  They  went  to  the 
nearest  cross-roads,  and  there  repeated  the  follow- 
ing poetry  three  times : 

Funadosake  '  Of  Funadosahe, 

Yu/uke  no  kami  ni         The  god  of  the  evening  oracle, 
Mono  toheba,  When  we  ask  things, 

Michi  yuku  hito  no  Ye  who  go  along  the  way, 

Ura  masa  ni  se  yo  I        Deliver  the  oracle  truly  I ' 

[The  first  line  is  explained  by  the  fact  that  the  road-gods,  and 
especially  Funado,  were  regarded  as  Sahe  no  kami, '  preventive 
gods,'  against  disease  and  demons.] 

While  repeating  these  lines,  the  women  drew  a 
line  of  demarcation  on  the  road  and  sprinkled 
rice ;  for  rice,  with  the  mysterious  spirit  it  con- 
tains (uga  no  mi-tama),  was  a  powerful  agent 
against  evil  spirits,  as  is  also  seen  in  the  custom  of 
sprinkling  it  in  the  hut  of  a  pregnant  woman  (see 
Le  Shinnto'isme,  134,  303).  After  this  was  done, 
each  of  the  women,  turning  towards  one  of  the 
roads,  passed  a  finger  along  the  teeth  of  a  box- 
wood comb  that  she  held  in  her  hand,  and  made  it 
sound  three  times ;  this  was  a  means  of  inviting 
the  god  to  speak,  the  word  tsuge  meaning  both 
'box -wood'  and  'inform  me.'  After  this,  they 
listened  for  the  words  of  the  first  person  who  came 
within  the  space  marked  off  by  the  enchanted 
limits,  and  drew  an  answer  therefrom.  The  tsuji- 
ura,  in  these  more  or  less  complete  forms,  seems  to 
have  enjoyed  popularity  for  a  long  time :  it  is 
mentioned  in  the  Oh-kagami,  '  the  Great  Mirror, 
a  famous  pseudo-historical  work  of  the  12th  cent, 
(see  Satow,  448) ;  and  a  passage  in  the  dramatist 
Chikamatsu  Monzaemon  (Dickins,  op.  cit.,  Tr.,  p. 
66)  shows  how  much  importance  was  attached, 
even  so  recently  as  200  years  ago,  to  the  chance 
words  spoken  by  people  met  on  the  street. 

Connected  with  tsuji-ura  we  have  hashi-ura, 
'bridge  divination,'  in  which  the  same  processes 
were  employed,  but  on  a  bridge  instead  of  on  an 
ordinary  road.  We  may  notice  also  ashi-ura, 
'foot  divination,'  practisea,  according  to  a  poem  of 
the  Manydshiu,  by  a  lover  before  the  door  of  his 
house  along  with  'evening  divination'  (Satow, 
447) ;  but  our  information  on  this  '  foot  divina- 
tion '  is  not  sufficiently  accurate,  although  it  comes 
into  one  of  the  most  ancient  myths,  viz.  the 
dance  of  the  god  Ho-deri  (Nihongi,  i.  107  ;  and  cf. 
Le  Shinntoisme,  210).  Still  another  variety  is 
mentioned  along  with  tsuji-ura  in  the  Manydshiu 
(Dickins,  Tr.,  p.  66) — ishi-ura,  or  'stone  divination,' 
which  consisted  in  foretelling  the  future  from 
the  apparent  weight  of  a  stone  (ishi-gami,  '  stone- 
deity^)  when  lifted  up.     The  following  is  a  text 


DIVINATION  (Japanese) 


803 


which,  if  it  is  not  a  simple  imaginary  divination 
according  to  the  inspiration  of  the  moment,  may 
well  contain  one  of  the  most  ancient  applications 
of  this  process : 

'In  the  beginning,  when  the  Emperor  [Keiko,  a.d.  71-180, 
according  to  traditional  chronology]  was  about  to  attack  the 
enemy  [the  Tsuchi-gumo,  'earth-spiders,'  i.e.  earth-cave- 
dwellers],  he  made  a  Btation  on  the  great  moor  of  Kashihawo. 
On  this  moor  there  was  a  stone  six  feet  in  length,  three  feet  in 
breadth,  and  one  foot  five  inches  in  thickness.  The  Emperor 
prayed,  saying :  "  If  we  are  to  succeed  in  destroying  the 
Tsuchi-gumo,  when  we  kick  this  stone,  may  we  make  it  mount 
up  like  a  kashiha  [oak]  leaf."  Accordingly  he  kicked  it,  upon 
which,  like  a  kashiha  leaf,  it  arose  to  the  Great  Void  '  {Nihongi, 
i.  195). 

Other  secondary  forms  of  divination  presented 
a  local  character.  In  the  temple  of  Kasuga,  to 
which  helongs  one  of  the  chief  rituals  of  ancient 
Shinto  (norito  no.  2),  and  in  various  other  pro- 
vincial temples,  mi-kayu-ura,  or  '  divination  by 
gruel,'  was  practised.  The  purpose  of  this  divina- 
tion was  to  find  out  what  kinds  of  vegetables  and 
cereals  it  would  be  best  to  sow  for  the  year.  It 
took  place  on  the  15th  of  the  1st  month,  the  date 
of  the  festival  of  Sahe  no  kami  (see  above).  A  pot 
was  placed  before  the  gods,  and  in  it  were  boiled 
some  adzuki  beans  (Phaseolus  radiatus) — a  little 
red  bean  whose  colour  served  to  suggest  the  idea 
of  health,  of  victory  over  the  demons  of  disease 
(people  who  visit  Japan  may  see  this  used  even 
to-day  to  colour  sacred  rice — the  rice,  e.g.,  offered 
on  the  domestic  altar  at  the  annual  Feast  of 
Ancestors).  When  this  gruel  was  cooked,  54  tubes 
of  reed  or  bamboo  were  plunged  into  it,  each 
bearing  the  name  of  one  of  the  vegetables  it  was 
proposed  to  cultivate ;  next,  the  priests  withdrew 
the  tubes  with  chopsticks,  and  derived  prognostics 
as  to  the  good  or  bad  crops  to  be  borne  by  each 
particular  kind  of  grain  from  the  manner  in  which 
the  grains  of  rice,  mixed  with  the  bean-gruel,  went 
into  the  tubes.  The  peasants  then  sowed  their 
seed  according  to  these  indications.  An  analogous, 
but  less  important,  process  consisted  in  arranging 
beans  round  the  hearth  very  near  the  fire,  and 
drawing  omens  from  the  manner  in  which  they 
turned  black  or  remained  untouched  (Satow,  418 ; 
Aston,  342).  Koto-ura,  or  '  harp  divination,'  was 
another  local  form.  It  was  employed  at  Ise  to 
make  sure  of  the  purity  of  the  priests  taking  part 
in  the  three  great  annual  ceremonies,  as  also  of 
the  tables,  vessels,  and  other  objects  employed 
to  present  offerings.  The  night  before  the  cere- 
mony, at  midnight,  a  priest  stood  with  a  harp  at 
one  of  the  outer  doors  of  the  temple.  Turning 
towards  the  temple,  he  prayed  the  Sun-goddess  to 
give  light  on  the  point  requiring  elucidation. 
Then  he  struck  the  harp  three  times,  each  time 
uttering  a  loud  'Hush,'  after  which  he  asked  all 
the  gods  to  come  down  from  the  heavens  to  answer 
his  question,  pronouncing  the  following  three-fold 
poetic  formula : 

Ahari  yal  '  Ah  !  ah  ! 

Asobi  ha  su  to  mausanu  ;  We  do  not  merely  amuse  our- 

selves ; 
A  sakura  ni,  On  to  your  splendid  seat, 

A  ma  tsu  kami  kuni  tsu  kami,     Gods  of  heaven  and  gods  of 

the  country, 
Orimashimase !  Descend ! 


Ahari  yal 

Asobi  ha.  su  to  mausanu  ; 

Asakura  ni, 

Nam  Ikadzuchi  mo, 

Orimashimase  I 


Ah !  ah  1 

We  do  not  merely  amuse  our- 
selves ; 
On  to  your  splendid  seat. 
Sounding  Thunderbolt  also, 
Descend ! 


Ahari  yal 

Asobi  ha  su  to  rnausanu  ; 


Ah  !  ah ! 

We  do  not  merely  amuse  our- 
selves ; 

Asakura  ni.  On  to  your  splendid  seat, 

Uha  tsu  ohoye  shita  tsu  ohoye,     Upper  great  elder  brother  and 

lower  great  elder  brother, 
Ma-wiri  tamahe  1  Deign  to  come  ! ' 

[We  do  not  know  who  the  two  'elder  brothers '  invoked  in 
the  second  last  line  were.] 


After  this  formula,  the  names  of  all  the  priests 
were  called,  and  at  each  one  the  officiant  asked : 
'Is  he  clean  or  unclean?'  He  then  struck  the 
harp  again,  and,  by  a  process  which  recalls  certain 
rites  of  Polynesian  sorcerers,  tried  to  whistle  by 
drawing  in  his  breath  ;  only  if  the  whistle  could 
be  heard  was  the  priest  in  question  considered 
clean.  The  same  rite  was  employed  to  settle  the 
same  question  in  regard  to  the  people  who  had 
prepared  the  offerings,  the  offerings  themselves, 
and  the  material  utensils.  Finally,  the  priest 
sounded  his  harp  again  three  times,  with  a  solemn 
'  Hush  ! '  and  sent  the  gods  back  to  their  own 
abode  by  reciting  a  formula  of  opposite  meaning 
from  the  preceding  one. 

This  curious  ceremony,  in  which  magic  plays  the  dominant 
part,  is  not  described  in  detail  except  in  one  work  of  the  12th 
cent. ;  but  an  8th  cent,  document  makes  allusion  to  it,  and 
Satow  is  right  in  thinking  {op.  cit.  450)  that  it  is  a  pure 
Japanese  custom. 

Last  in  this  class  of  local  methods  of  divination  we 
may  mention  'cauldron  divination,'  which  Aston 
quotes  (p.  343)  as  employed  to  this  day  in  a  temple 
in  the  country  of  Bittchu.  At  the  request  of  a 
member  of  their  congregation,  the  priests  recite 
a  ritual,  light  a  fire  beneath  a  cauldron,  and  note 
the  sound  it  produces:  if  it  is  like  the  bellowing 
of  a  bull,  the  omen  is  good. 

Such  are  the  processes,  important  and  secondary, 
general  and  particular,  of  Japanese  divination. 
A  process  which  may  serve  as  the  transition 
between  these  indigenous  systems  and  the  Chinese 
methods  gradually  introduced  is  that  known  as 
kitsune-tsukahi,  or  '  fox-possessing. '  A  fox  is  buried 
alive,  with  only  its  head  out  of  the  ground  ;  food 
is  placed  before  it,  which  it  cannot  reach  in  spite 
of  desperate  efforts  ;  when  it  dies,  after  this  tanta- 
lizing torment,  its  spirit  is  supposed  to  pass  into 
the  food,  which  is  then  mixed  with  clay  and 
formed  into  an  image  of  the  animal  ;  the  possessor 
of  this  fetish  is  regarded  as  endowed  with  marvel- 
lous divinatory  power  (W.  Weston,  Mountaineering 
in  the  Japanese  Alps,  Lond.  1896,  p.  307).  This  cruel 
rite  has  a  strange  resemblance  to  another  magical 
process,  viz.  that  of  the  inu-gami  ('dog-deity'),  in 
which  a  dog  is  treated  in  almost  the  same  way,  its 
head  being  finally  cut  off,  to  be  used  afterwards  in 
spells  along  with  the  furious  spirit  inhabiting  it ; 
and,  if  this  rite  of  the  inu-gami  is  of  Shinto  origin 
(see  Le  Shinnto'isme,  166),  the  same  may  be  the 
case  with  that  of  the  kitsune-tsukahi. 

We  have  no  precise  information  regarding 
divination  by  birds,  which  certainly  existed  in 
ancient  Japan  (Satow,  449) — we  do  not  even  know 
whether  it  resembled  the  Chinese  system  of  bird- 
divination.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  doubt 
as  to  the  Chinese  origin  of  such  methods  as  astro- 
logy, introduced  by  Koreans  in  A.D.  675,  when,  as 
the  Nihongi  tells  us  (ii.  326),  '  a  platform  was  for 
the  first  time  erected  from  which  to  divine  by 
means  of  the  stars,'  and  also  geomancy  (Nihongi, 
ii.  76,  126),  cheiromancy,  physiognomies,  etc. 

(c)  Isolated  cases. — After  thus  treating  of  the 
regular  processes  of  divination,  it  is  advisable  to 
mention  the  individual  and  accidental  recourse  to 
various  means  of  divination  invented  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment.  Occurrences  of  this  nature  are 
very  often  found  in  the  most  ancient  annals.  To 
show  the  process  to  the  life,  it  will  be  of  interest 
to  quote  a  passage  from  the  Nihongi,  relating  to 
Jimmu  Tenno,  the  legendary  founder  of  the 
Japanese  Empire : 

'  All  the  places  occupied  by  the  enemy  [the  indigenous  race 
who  had  to  be  conquered]  were  strong  positions,  and  therefore 
the  roads  were  cut  off  and  obstructed,  so  that  there  was  no 
room  for  passage.  The  Emperor,  indignant  at  this,  made 
prayer  on  that  night  in  person,  and  then  fell  asleep.  The 
Heavenly  Deity  appeared  to  him  in  a  dream,  and  instructed 
him,  saying :  "  Take  earth  from  within  the  shrine  of  the 
Heavenly  Mount  Kagu  [a  mountain  in  Yamato],  and  of  it  make 
eighty  Heavenly  platters  [for  rice].     Also  make  sacred  jars  [fol 


804 


DIVINATION  (Japanese) 


sake],  and  therewith  sacrifice  to  the  gods  of  Heaven  and  Earth. 
Moreover,  pronounce  a  solemn  imprecation.  If  thou  doest  so, 
the  enemy  will  render  submission  of  their  own  accord."  The 
Emperor  received  with  reverence  the  directions  given  in  his 
dream,  and  proceeded  to  carry  them  into  execution.  .  .  .  He 
caused  Shihi-netsu-hiko  [a  fisherman  whom  he  had  with  him  as 
guide]  to  put  on  ragged  garments  and  a  grass  rain-coat  and 
hat,  and  to  disguise  himself  as  an  old  man.  He  also  caused 
Ukeshi  the  Younger  [a  J«-oal  chief  who  had  joined  his  party]  to 
cover  himself  with  a  wl. -nowing  tray,  so  as  to  assume  the 
appearance  of  an  old  woman,  and  then  addressed  them,  saying  : 
"  Do  ye  two  proceed  to  the  Heavenly  Mount  Kagu,  and  secretly 
take  earth  from  its  summit.  Having  done  so,  return  hither. 
By  means  of  you  I  shall  then  divine  whether  or  not  I  shall  be 
successful  in  founding  the  Empire.  Do  your  utmost,  and  be 
watchful.'1  Now  the  enemy's  army  filled  the  road,  and  made 
all  passage  impossible.  Then  Shihi-netsu-hiko  prayed,  and 
said:  "If  it  will  be  possible  for  our  Emperor  to  conquer  this 
land,  let  the  road  by  which  we  must  travel  become  open.  But 
if  not,  let  the  brigands  surely  oppose  our  passage."  Having 
thus  spoken,  they  set  forth,  and  went  straight  onwards.  Now 
the  hostile  band,  seeing  the  two  men,  laughed  loudly,  and 
said:  "  What  an  uncouth  old  man  and  old  woman  I"  So  with 
one  accord  they  left  the  road,  and  allowed  the  two  men  to  pass 
and  proceed  to  the  mountain,  where  they  took  the  clay  and 
returned  with  it.  Hereupon  the  Emperor  was  greatly  pleased, 
and  with  this  clay  he  made  eighty  platters,  eighty  Heavenly 
small  jars  and  sacred  jars,  with  which  he  went  up  to  the  upper 
waters  of  the  River  Nifu  and  sacrificed  to  the  gods  of  Heaven 
and  of  Earth.  Immediately,  on  the  Asa-hara  plain  by  the  river 
of  Uda,  it  became  as  it  were  like  foam  on  the  water,  the  result 
of  the  curse  cleaving  to  them.  Moreover,  the  Emperor  went  on 
to  utter  a  vow,  saying  :  "  I  will  now  make  ame  ['  sweetness,'  a 
sweetmeat  made  of  millet,  malted]  in  the  eighty  platters  without 
using  water.  If  the  ame  is  formed,  then  shall  I  assuredly 
without  effort  and  without  recourse  to  the  might  of  arms 
reduce  the  Empire  to  peace."  So  he  made  time,  which  forth- 
with became  formed  of  itself.  Again  he  made  a  vow,  saying  : 
"  I  will  now  take  the  sacred  jars  and  sink  them  in  the  River 
Nifu.  If  the  fishes,  whether  great  or  small,  become  every  one 
drunken  and  are  carried  down  the  stream,  like  as  it  were  to 
floating  maki  [Pudocarpzts]  leaves,  then  shall  I  assuredly  suc- 
ceed in  establishing  this  land.  But  if  this  be  not  so,  there 
will  never  be  any  result."  Thereupon  he  sank  the  jars  in  the 
river.  Their  mouths  turned  downward,  and  after  a  while  the 
fish  all  came  to  the  surface,  gaping  and  gasping  as  they  floated 
down  the  stream.  Then  Shihi-netsu-hiko,  seeing  this,  repre- 
sented it  to  the  Emperor,  who  was  greatly  rejoiced,  and, 
plucking  up  a  five-hundred-branched  masakaki  [Cleyera]  tree 
of  the  upper  waters  of  the  River  Nifu,  he  did  worship  therewith 
to  all  the  gods.  It  was  with  this  that  the  custom  began  of 
setting  sacred  jars  [in  the  courtyard] '  (Nihongi,  i.  119-121). 

In  this  one  passage,  and  with  a  single  point 
to  elucidate,  we  have  no  fewer  than  four  different 
processes  of  divination.  The  case  of  the  famous 
Empress  Jingo,  the  conqueror  of  Korea,  is  similar  : 

'  Proceeding  northwards,  she  arrived  at  the  district  of  Mat- 
sura  hi  the  land  of  Hizen,  and  partook  of  food  on  the  bank  of 
the  River  Wogawa,  in  the  village  of  Tamashima.  Here  the 
Empress  bent  a  needle  and  made  of  it  a  hook.  She  took  grains 
of  rice  and  used  them  as  bait.  Pulling  out  the  threads  of  her 
garment,  she  made  of  them  a  line.  Then,  mounting  upon  a 
stone  ifl  the  middle  of  the  river,  and  casting  the  hook,  she 
prayed,  saying :  "  We  are  proceeding  westward,  where  we 
desire  to  gain  possession  of  the  Land  of  Treasure.  If  we  are  to 
succeed,  let  the  fish  of  the  river  bite  the  hook."  Accordingly, 
raising  up  her  fishing-rod,  she  caught  a  trout.'  And  further 
on  :  '  The  Empress  returned  to  the  Bay  of  Eashihi,  and,  loosing 
her  hair,  looked  over  the  sea,  saying  :  "  I,  having  received  the 
instructions  of  the  Gods  of  Heaven  and  Earth,  and  trusting  in 
the  spirits  of  the  imperial  ancestors,  floating  across  the  deep 
blue  sea,  intend  in  person  to  chastise  the  West.  Therefore  do 
I  now  lave  my  head  in  the  water  of  the  sea.  If  I  am  to  be 
successful,  let  my  hair  part  spontaneously  in  two."  Accord- 
ingly she  entered  the  sea  and  bathed,  and  her  hair  parted  of  its 
own  accord.  The  Empress  bound  it  up  parted  into  bunches 
[i.e.  in  manly  fashion]'  (Nihongi,  i.  227,  228;  cf.  also  229,  287, 
281). 

(d)  Divination  by  lots. — In  addition  to  these 
unimportant  but  picturesque  secondary  means  of 
divination,  it  remains  to  notice  a  method  of  very 
general  character,  but  whose  lack  of  originality 
renders  it  somewhat  less  interesting  ;  this  is  divina- 
tion by  lots.  We  find  it  already  mentioned  in  the 
Nihongi  (ii.  257),  which,  in  telling  of  a  conspiracy 
formed  in  A.D.  658,  says  that  the  various  conspir- 
ing princes  '  divined  the  future  of  their  treasonous 
conspiracy  by  drawing  slips  of  paper.'  Recourse 
was  also  had  to  sticks  on  which  numbers  were 
inscribed.  Sometimes  this  method  was  preceded 
by  prayers  to  the  gods  (Aston,  343) ;  sometimes  it 
constituted  a  purely  magical  process,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  above-mentioned  conspiracy  ;  and  some- 
times it  was  nothing  more  thaji  a  handy  secular 


means  of  deciding  something  by  chance,  such  as  is 
constantly  used  by  people  to-day  as  far  removed 
from  religion  as  from  magic  ;  in  Tokyo,  e.g.,  at 
jinrikisha  stands,  the  kurumaya  often  have  at 
hand  a  bundle  of  cords  of  different  lengths  all  tied 
in  a  knot,  and  use  it  to  decide,  when  a  passenger 
appears,  which  of  them  is  to  have  the  privilege  of 
conducting  him.  But  this  form  of  divination, 
vulgar  as  it  is,  assumes  a  quite  outstanding  im- 
portance when  we  consider  that  the  drawing  of 
lots  plays  a  dominant  part  in  the  divination 
founded  upon  the  complicated  Chinese  diagrams 
of  the  Yih-king,  the  '  Book  of  Changes '  (Eki  in 
Japanese).  This  obscure  book,  indeed,  just  be- 
cause of  its  divinatory  character,  was  one  of  the 
first  Chinese  works  to  be  introduced  into  Japan 
(in  A.D.  553,  according  to  the  Nihongi,  ii.  68;  cf. 
72,  306),  and  it  became  the  basis  of  the  system  of 
divination  in  use  at  present.  Takashima  Kaemon, 
who  was  the  most  celebrated  diviner  in  modern 
Japan,  took  this  work  as  the  foundation  for  his 
art ;  when  he  was  only  a  student,  he  was  put  in 
prison  for  some  youthful  misdemeanour,  and,  hav- 
ing nothing  but  this  ancient  classic  beside  him, 
he  discovered  the  secret  of  the  meditations  which 
brought  success  to  his  brilliant  career.  The  pre- 
sent writer  frequently  had  occasion  to  meet  this 
diviner,  to  hear  from  his  own  mouth  an  account 
of  his  most  ingenious  consultations,  and  even  to 
receive  his  lessons,  and  he  can  say  that,  if  the 
principles  of  the  system  are  doubtful,  its  indi- 
vidual results  are  often  wonderful  :  the  value  of 
divination  is  in  proportion  to  the  skill  of  the 
diviner,  and  the  lucky  financier  of  Kanagawa,  the 
able  promoter  of  so  many  new  schemes,  was  always 
a  prudent  man  who  could  see  far  ahead.  As 
Chamberlain  says  (Things  Japanese,  Lond.-  1898, 
p.  112),  Takashima,  after  studying  the  Yih-king, 
'  realized  a  fortune  by  obedience  to  its  precepts  ' ; 
but  there  are  many  Japanese,  even  in  the  highest 
grades  of  society,  who  also  profited  by  his  wide  ex- 
perience of  men  andthings ;  one  has  only  to  read  the 
Takashima  Ekidan  of  Shigetake  Sugiura  (Tokyo, 
1893)  to  get  a  good  estimate,  from  numerous  ex- 
amples, of  the  penetration  of  his  mind  and  the 
wisdom  of  his  counsel.  The  Japanese,  moreover, 
even  the  educated  classes,  still  hold  divination  in 
high  esteem,  although  it  is  not  officially  recognized 
by  modern  Shinto,  and  have  recourse  to  it  fre- 
quently in  all  sorts  of  circumstances,  from  a  wed- 
ding to  a  removal  to  another  quarter  of  the  town. 
At  the  University  of  Tokyo,  15  or  20  years  ago, 
the  present  writer  had  as  colleague  an  old  pro- 
fessor of  the  ancient  school,  who  still  adhered  re- 
ligiously to  the  tuft  of  hair  of  the  feudal  period  ; 
the  last  survivor  of  a  perished  race  of  savants,  he 
was  greatly  esteemed  by  his  colleagues  as  the  only 
man  capable  of  expounding  the  Yih-king.  Among 
the  people  divination  is  correspondingly  wide- 
spread ;  every  quarter  has  its  modest  diviner 
working  with  his  divining-rods  and  consulting  his 
diagrams,  and  telling  more  or  less  skilfully  how 
lost  possessions  may  he  found.  The  writer  could 
give  personal  experiences  in  this  connexion,  but 
prefers  to  quote  a  little  anecdote  of  Chamberlain's 
(foe.  cit. ),  which  shows  both  the  popularity  and  the 
weak  points  of  divination  : 

1 A  favourite  dog  of  the  present  writer's  was  lost  in  November 
1892,  and  all  search,  advertisement,  and  application  to  the 
police  proved  unavailing.  Meanwhile,  the  servants  and  their 
friends  privately  had  recourse  to  no  less  than  three  diviners, 
two  of  whom  were  priests.  One  of  these  foretold  the  dog's 
return  in  April,  and  another  directed  that  an  ancient  ode  con- 
taining the  words,  "  If  I  hear  that  thou  awaitest  me,  I  will 
forthwith  return,"  should  be  written  on  slips  of  paper  and 
pasted  upside  down  on  the  pillars  of  the  house.  It  was  the 
sight  of  these  slips  that  drew  our  attention  to  the  matter.  The 
best  of  it  is  that  the  dog  was  found,  and  that,  too,  in  a  month 
of  April,  namely  April  1896,  after  having  been  missing  for  three 
years  and  five  months  ! ' 

5.  Ordeals. — After  thus  analyzing  the  various 


DIVINATION  (Japanese) 


806 


forms  of  Japanese  divination,  ancient  and  modern, 
we  have  still  a  special  process  of  its  application 
to  investigate,  viz.  ordeals.  This  judicial  divina- 
tion is  represented  in  ancient  mythology  by  a 
well-known  story  giving  a  case  of  ordeal  by  fire. 

The  Heavenly  prince  Ninigi,  having  been  sent  by  the  other 
gods  to  earth  to  govern  Japan,  married  Ko-no-hana-saku-ya- 
hime(thePrincess-Hlossoining-brilliantly-like-the-flowers-of-the- 
Tree8)  ;  but  she  became  pregnant  after  a  single  night,  and  the 
young  husband  was  astonished  ;  she  then  shut  herself  up  in  an 
underground  hall  (a  muro,  which  here  does  duty  for  the 
ubu-ya,  or  lying-in  hut,  where  the  Japanese  women  used  to 
retire  for  delivery),  and  set  fire  to  the  hall  with  her  own  hands, 
when  on  the  point  of  delivery,  in  order  to  prove  her  innocence 
by  the  fire-test.  '  If  the  child,'  she  said,  '  with  which  I  am 
pregnant  be  the  child  of  an  Earthly  deity  [i.e.  of  a  god  of  the 
country],  my  delivery  will  not  be  fortunate.  If  it  be  the  august 
child  of  the  Heavenly  deity  [i.e.  thy  child  and  the  descendant  of 
the  sun-goddess],  it  will  be  fortunate.'  And  the  princess  came 
out  of  the  test  victorious,  after  having  brought  into  the  world 
in  the  furnace  three  gods,  one  of  whom  was  to  be  the  ancestor 
of  the  first  Emperor  (Kojiki,  143 f.;  cf.  corresponding  versions 
in  Nilumgi,  i.  73,  85,  8S). 

This  myth  would  seem  to  point  to  the  existence 
of  the  fire-ordeal  in  the  customs  of  the  pre-historic 
period.  In  the  historic  period,  however,  it  was 
essentially  the  boiling- water  test  that  constituted 
judicial  divination.  First  of  all  the  Nihongi  gives 
us  an  example  which  it  assigns  to  A.D.  277  : 

A  certain  man,  Takechi  no  Sukune,  was  slandered  before  the 
Emperor  by  his  younger  brother,  Umashi-ushi  no  Sukune,  and 
accused  of  wishing  to  overthrow  the  Emperor  and  seize  his 
power.  Takechi,  who  was  at  the  time  on  a  tour  of  inspection 
in  the  provinces,  hastened  to  the  capital  to  prove  his  innocence. 
'  The  Emperor  forthwith  questioned  Takechi  no  Sukune  along 
with  Umashi-ushi  no  Sukune,  upon  which  these  two  men  were 
each  obstinate,  and  wrangled  with  one  another,  so  that  it  was 
impossible  to  ascertain  the  right  and  the  wrong.  The  Emperor 
then  gave  orders  to  ask  of  the  Gods  of  Heaven  and  Earth  the 
ordeal  by  boiling  water.  Hereupon  Takechi  no  Sukune  and 
Umashi-ushi  no  Sukune  went  out  together  to  the  bank  of 
the  Shiki  river,  and  underwent  the  ordeal  of  boiling  water. 
Takechi  no  Sukune  was  victorious.  Taking  his  cross-sword, 
he  threw  down  Umashi-ushi  no  Sukune,  and  was  at  length 
about  to  slay  him,  when  the  Emperor  ordered  him  to  let  him 
go '  [Nilumgi,  i.  257  f.). 

A  more  important  case  was  occasioned,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  5th  cent.,  by  the  pretensions 
of  high  families  who  were  attempting  to  increase 
their  prestige  by  false  genealogies.  In  the  year 
415,  two  Imperial  decrees  of  Ingyo  censured  those 
powerful  families  who  '  purposely  lay  claim  to  high 
family,'  those  bold  functionaries  who  '  describe 
themselves,  some  as  descendants  of  Emperors, 
others  attributing  to  their  race  a  miraculous 
origin,  and  saying  that  their  ancestors  came  down 
from  Heaven '  ;  and  the  abuse  reached  such  a 
pitch  that  the  Emperor  finally  had  recourse  to  the 
ordeal  to  remedy  it. 

*  "Single  Houses,"  he  said, "  have  multiplied  and  have  formed 
anew  ten  thousand  surnames  of  doubtful  authenticity.  There- 
fore let  the  people  of  the  various  Houses  and  surnames  wash 
themselves  and  practise  abstinence,  and  let  them,  each  one 
calling  the  gods  to  witness,  plunge  their  hands  in  boiling  water." 
The  cauldrons  of  the  ordeal  by  boiling  water  were  therefore 
placed  on  the  "  Evil  Door  of  Words "  spur  of  the  Amagashi 
Hill.  Everybody  was  told  to  go  thither,  saying  :  "  He  who  tells 
the  truth  will  be  uninjured ;  he  who  is  false  will  assuredly 
suffer  harm."  Hereupon  every  one  plit  on  straps  of  tree-fibre, 
and,  coming  to  the  cauldrons,  plunged  their  hands  in  the  boiling 
water,  when  those  who  were  true  remained  naturally  uninjured, 
and  all  those  who  were  false  were  harmed.  Therefore  those 
who  had  falsified  their  titles  were  afraid,  and,  slipping  away 
beforehand,  did  not  come  forward.  From  this  time  forward 
the  Houses  and  surnames  were  spontaneously  ordered,  and 
there  was  no  longer  any  one  who  falsified  them '  {Nihongi,  i. 
316-317,  and  cf.  Kojiki,  367  f.). 

A  gloss  on  this  passage  of  the  Nihongi,  probably 
as  ancient  as  the  text  itself,  tells  us  that  this 
ordeal,  known  to-day  under  the  name  of  yusaguri, 
was  then  called  kugadachi,  and  adds  valuable  evi- 
dence of  other  varieties  of  usage  at  this  period  : 

1  Sometimes  mud  was  put  into  a  cauldron  and  made  to  boil  up ; 
then  the  arms  were  bared,  and  the  boiling  mud  stirred  with 
them.  Sometimes  an  axe  was  heated  red-hot  and  placed  on 
the  palm  of  the  hand.' 

The  great  prevalence  of  the  custom  is  clearly 
shown  by  a  complaint  made  to  the  Emperor,  in 
the  year  530,  by  an  ambassador  of  Imna,  a  small 


kingdom  in  Korea,  against  a  whimsical  judge,  who, 
in  order  to  simplify  his  task,  abused  the  ordeal : 

1  Kena  no  Omi  is  fond  of  setting  the  cauldrons  for  the  ordeal  by 
boiling  water,  and  saying:  "Those  who  are  in  the  right  will 
not  be  scalded:  those  who  are  false  will  certainly  be  scalded." 
Owing  to  this,  many  persons  have  been  scalded  to  death  by 
plunging  into  the  hot  water  [ '  {Nihongi,  ii.  22). 

Still  other  forms  of  ordeal  are  noticed  by  a 
Chinese  traveller,  who  visited  Japan  in  the  year 
600,  and,  in  describing  both  the  means  of  torture 
employed  to  force  the  confession  of  criminals  and 
the  tests  for  the  purpose  of  distinguishing  the 
guilty  from  the  innocent,  gives  the  following 
exposition : 

'  In  the  trial  of  cases  where  a  great  wrong  has  been  suffered, 
those  who  will  not  confess  have  their  knees  squeezed  with  a 
piece  of  wood,  or  have  their  necks  sawn  with  the  tight  string 
of  a  very  powerful  bow.  Or  small  stones  are  placed  in  boiling 
water,  and  the  disputants  are  ordered  to  take  them  out.  It  is 
supposed  that  he  who  is  in  the  wrong  gets  his  hand  scalded. 
Or,  again,  a  snake  is  put  in  a  jar,  and  they  are  made  to  take  it 
out ;  it  being  supposed  that  he  who  is  in  the  wrong  will  get  his 
hands  bitten '  ('  Ma-Twan-Lin's  Account  of  Japan,'  by  E.  H. 
Parker,  in  TASJ,  vol.  xxii.  pt.  2,  p.  42  f.). 

This  serpent-ordeal,  which  is  also  found  among 
other  peoples,  e.g.  the  blacks  of  Africa,  was 
certainly  in  existence  in  Japan  in  the  primitive 
period.  We  are  led  to  this  conclusion  by  the  tests 
to  which  Susa-no-wo  subjects  his  future  son-in-law, 
Oho-kuni-nushi,  who  is  made  to  sleep  in  the  hut  of 
serpents,  and  then  in  the  hut  of  centipedes  and 
wasps  ;  he  would  never  have  escaped  if  he  had  not 
had  the  help  of  the  magic  scarfs  of  princess  Suseri  ; 
and  Susa-no-wo  ended  by  showing  him  high  esteem, 
because,  seeing  him  spit  red  earth  mixed  with 
m«foj-berries  (Aphananthe  aspera),  he  thought  he 
was  eating  the  centipedes  themselves  (Kojiki,  86  f.). 
Later  on,  and  down  to  the  present  period,  the  tests 
of  plunging  the  hands  in  boiling  water  and  walking 
bare-footed  over  a  bed  of  burning  coals,  with, 
however,  special  precautions,  were  employed  as  a 
means  of  rousing  the  piety  of  believers ;  but  this 
is  no  longer  ordeal.  On  the  other  hand,  even  in 
the  17th  cent.,  Kaempfer  observed  a  curious  ordeal 
for  forcing  confession  of  a  crime,  which  consisted 
in  making  the  accused  swallow,  in  a  little  water, 
a  small  piece  of  paper  with  drawings  of  ravens  or 
other  black  birds  upon  it  (Kaempfer,  Hist,  du  Japon, 
Fr.  ed.,  Paris,  1732,  bk.  iii.  ch.  5,  p.  51).  Perhaps 
we  may  see  here  a  faint  recollection  of  the  god  of 
scare-crows,  who  appears  in  primitive  mythology 
and  was  thought  to  know  everything  under  the  sun 
(see  Le  Shinntoisme,  156). 

6.  Omens  and  dreams. — All  that  now  remains 
to  be  treated  is  omens  and  dreams.  These  come 
under  divination,  even  though  in  them  we  are 
not  dealing,  in  principle,  with  processes  involving 
the  active  initiative  of  man,  but  only  with  spon- 
taneous facts,  outside  of  man,  for  which  he  seeks 
an  interpretation  after  they  have  occurred.  Omens 
are  often  mentioned  in  mythology  and  ancient 
annals.  Without  speaking  of  omens  that  are 
looked  for  by  those  interested,  and  therefore 
belong  to  the  class  of  divinations  devised  on  the 
spot  {e.g.,  in  Kojiki,  292,  while  two  chiefs,  on  the 
eve  of  an  expedition,  '  hunted  for  an  omen,'  and 
one  of  them  had  climbed  an  oak,  a  furious  wild 
boar  uprooted  the  tree  and  devoured  the  man),  we 
could  give  numerous  examples  of  omens  properly 
so  called,  i.e.  independent  of  the  human  will.  As 
a  general  rule,  white  or  red  animals,  which  were 
striking  in  virtue  of  their  rarity  and,  further, 
harmonized  with  the  favourite  colours  of  a  solar 
religion  like  Shinto,  were  regarded  as  of  good 
omen  (see,  for  white  animals,  Nihongi,  i.  292,  ii. 
124,  174,  236,  237,  239,  252,  286,  322,  326,  352,  394, 
410,  416 ;  and,  for  red  animals,  Nihongi,  ii.  337, 
347,  351,  352,  357,  407,  409).  But  the  Japanese 
also  regarded  as  good  omens,  perhaps  just  when  it 
suited  them  to  interpret  them  as  such,  any  parti- 


806 


DIVINATION  (Jewish) 


cular  occurrence  whatever  {e.g.  an  owl  or  a  wren 
going  into  a  lying-in  hut  [Nihongi,  i.  277]).  Earth- 
quakes, storms,  and  floods  were  considered  ill 
omens,  foretelling  war :  they  were  the  scourges 
calling  on  each  other.  Similarly,  other  extra- 
ordinary phenomena,  such  as  the  appearance  of  a 
comet  (Nihongi,  ii.  166,  167,  169,  333,  353,  364,  367), 
or  a  prolonged  eclipse  of  the  sun's  light  (ib.  i.  238) ; 
strange  incidents  like  a  migration  of  rats  from  the 
capital  (ib.  ii.  226,  245),  or  the  mysterious  move- 
ments of  a  swarm  of  flies  (ib.  ii.  270) ;  bad  meetings, 
as  with  a  blind  man  or  a  cripple,  when  starting  on 
a  journey  (Kojiki,  238);  disturbing  incidents  like 
a  dog  coming  into  a  temple  and  laying  down  a 
dead  hand  (Nihongi,  ii.  263) ;  or,  finally,  un- 
accountable accidents  like  a  leg-rest  breaking  with 
no  apparent  cause  (ib.  ii.  256),  were  all  evil  omens. 
It  would  be  useless  to  attempt  to  study  in  detail 
all  these  and  analogous  cases,  which  are  very 
numerous  (see  Nihongi,  i.  227,  228,  320,  ii.  59,  237, 
239,  259,  266,  269,  276,  277,  293,  331,  359,  etc.). 
Let  us  simply  point  out  that  this  belief  in  omens 
is  current  to  this  day  among  the  Japanese.  Thus, 
at  certain  grave  crises  in  her  contemporary  history, 
Japan  has  been  seen  more  than  once  to  turn 
anxiously  towards  the  templejof  the  Sun-goddess, 
seeking  for  light  on  the  future.  At  a  critical  point 
in  the  Revolution  of  1867,  the  white  horse  of  the 
temple  of  Ise  escaped,  and  only  returned  after 
three  days :  from  this  it  was  concluded  that  the 
Imperial  party  would  soon  have  the  victory. 
During  the  Chino-Japanese  war,  the  sacred  horse 
disappeared  for  ten  days  :  this  foreign  war,  there- 
fore, was  to  last  three  times  as  long  as  the  previous 
civil  war  (rumour  registered  in  the  Japan  Mail  of 
17th  Sept.  1894,  p.  2). 

In  the  same  way,  dreams  were  always  regarded 
as  affording  foresight,  by  a  more  or  less  skilful 
interpretation,  of  future  events,  or  indications  as 
to  the  future  behaviour  of  the  person  interested. 
Take,  e.g.,  one  of  the  oldest  documents  of  Shinto, 
the  Tatsuta  no  Kaze  no  Kami  no  Matsuri  (ritual 
no.  4),  which  gives  its  proper  legendary  origin. 
For  several  years,  some  unknown  gods  had  spoiled 
all  the  harvests,  and  the  diviners  had  not  been 
able  to  discover  the  culprits.  Then  the  sovereign 
himself  'deigned  to  conjure  them,'  and  they 
revealed  themselves  to  him  in  a  dream.  They 
were  '  Heaven's  -  august  -  Pillar's  augustness  and 
Country -august -Pillar's  augustness,'  the  Wind- 
gods  who  support  the  firmament.  They  required 
certain  offerings  from  him — the  foundation  of  a 
temple  at  Tatsuta,  and  a  liturgy — in  return  for 
which  they  promised  '  to  bless  and  ripen  the  things 
produced  by  the  great  august  people  of  the  region 
under  Heaven,  firstly  the  five  sorts  of  grain,  down 
to  the  last  leaf  of  the  herbs'  (TASJ,  vol.  vii.  pt.  4, 
p.  442  f . ).  We  shall  now  take  one  of  the  most 
dramatic  stories  of  the  ancient  chronicles : 

The  Emperor  Suinin  is  betrayed  by  his  wife,  who,  at  the 
instigation  of  her  accomplice,  the  prince  of  Saho,  attempts  to 
assassinate  him  during  his  sleep.  '  So  the  Heavenly  Sovereign, 
not  knowing  of  this  conspiracy,  was  augustly  sleeping,  with  the 
Empress'  august  knees  as  his  pillow.  Then  the  Empress  tried 
to  cut  his  august  throat  with  a  stiletto  ;  but,  though  she  lifted 
it  thrice,  she  could  not  cut  the  throat  for  an  irrepressible  feeling 
of  sadness,  and  she  wept  tears,  which  fell  overflowing  on  to  the 
Heavenly  Sovereign's  august  face.  Straightway  the  Heavenly 
Sovereign  started  up,  and  asked  the  Empress,  saying  :  "  I  have 
had  a  strange  dream  :  a  violent  shower  came  from  the  direction 
of  Saho  and  suddenly  wetted  my  face  ;  again,  a  small  damask- 
coloured  snake  coiled  itself  round  my  neck.  Of  what  may  such 
a  dream  be  the  omen  ?  "  *  And  the  Empress,  seeing  that  it'would 
be  useless  to  deny  the  truth,  confessed  her  treason  of  which  the 
Emperor  had  been  warned  by  this  dream  (Kojiki,  231  f. ;  cf. 
Nihongi,  i.  171). 

It  would  be  easy  .to  multiply  examples  of  this 
kind,  in  which  the  ancient  documents  abound  (see 
Kojiki,  165,  215,  237,  295;  Nihongi,  i.  115,  153, 
155,  161,  165,  281,  ii.  36).  These  divinations  given 
by  dreams  were  considered  so  natural  that  they 


were  even  attributed  to  animals,  as  the  following 
story  will  show : 

'  There  is  a  popular  story  that  a  long  time  ago  there  was  a 
man  who  went  to  Toga,  and  spent  the  night  on  the  moor. 
Now  there  were  two  deer  which  lay  down  beside  him.  When 
it  was  on  the  point  of  cock-crow,  the  male  deer  addressed  the 
female,  saying :  "  This  night  I  had  a  dream,  in  which  I  saw  a 
white  mist  come  down  copiously  and  cover  my  body.  What 
may  this  portend  ?  "  The  female  deer  answered'  and  said  :  "II 
thou  goest  out,  thou  wilt  certainly  be  shot  by  men  and  die,  and 
so  thy  body  will  be  smeared  with  white  salt  to  correspond  with 
the  whiteness  of  the  mist."  Now  the  man  who  was  spending 
the  night  there  wondered  at  this  in  his  heart.  Before  it  was 
yet  dawn,  there  came  a  hunter,  who  shot  the  male  deer,  and 
killed  it.  Hence  the  proverbial  saying  of  the  men  of  that  day  : 
"  Even  the  belling  male  deer  follows  the  interpretation  of  a 
dream  "  '  (Nihongi,  i.  290). 

There  is  still  one  more  form  of  divination,  which 
plays  an  important  part  in  ancient  Shinto,  namely, 
Inspiration  (q.v.). 

Literature. — Sir  Ernest  Satow,  in  TASJ,  vol.  vii.  [1889]  pt. 
4,  pp.  445-452;  W.  G.  Aston,  Shinto,  London,  1905,  pp.  337-348 ; 
M.  Revon,  he  Shintitoisme,  Paris,  1905,  Index,  s.v.  '  Divination.' 
For  the  texts:  B.  H.  Chamberlain,  Kojiki*,  Tokyo,  1906; 
Aston,  Nihongi,  London,  1896 ;  Revon,  Anthologie  de  la 
literature  japonaise,  Paris,  1910.  MICHEL  REVON. 

DIVINATION  (Jewish).— i.  Introductory.— In 
the  present  article  the  writer  follows  the  same 
system  as  in  art.  Charms  and  Amulets  (Jewish), 
in  not  attempting  to  fix  chronological  dates  for  the 
various  forms  of  divination  mentioned  in  ancient 
and  mediaeval  writings.  Without  discussing  here 
the  wider  meaning  of  magic  in  general,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  magic  is  much  older  than  any  literary 
record,  and  that  it  has  survived  through  ages,  with 
comparatively  few  variations  and  modifications. 
The  study  of  folk-lore  has  revealed  the  fact  that  to 
a  surprising  degree  exact  parallels  with  some  of 
the  most  ancient  forms  of  divination  have  been 
preserved  to  this  very  day,  and  a  careful  examina- 
tion of  the  latest  survivals  throws  light  upon 
ancient  practices  which  have  hitherto  remained  in 
many  cases  obscure.  It  follows  naturally  that 
allusions  in  the  Bible  are  only  the  oldest  literary 
references  to  practices  of  magic  and  divination. 
The  words  denoting  magical  practices  belong,  no 
doubt,  to  the  pre-Biblical  period,  when  their 
original  meaning  may  have  already  undergone 
some  sort  of  change,  although  this  is  not  very 
likely,  as  nothing  is  preserved  with  greater  tenacity 
than  magical  terms  and  formula?.  It  is  thus  futile 
to  attempt,  on  the  basis  of  Hebrew  etymology,  to 
fix  in  every  case  the  precise  meaning  of  these 
technical  terms.  It  must  also  be  pointed  out  that, 
though  the  practices  in  question  are  here  classed  as 
'  Jewish,'  this  by  no  means  implies  that  they  are  of 
Jewish  origin,  but  only  that  the  knowledge  of 
them  has  come  to  us  through  the  medium  of  the 
Bible,  and  that  they  were  doubtless  employed  by 
the  Jews — in  direct  contradiction  to  the  spirit  and 
teaching  of  Judaism — especially  during  the  older 
period  of  Jewish  history. 

Nothing  could  be  more  emphatic  than  Dt  2039 
( '  The  secret  things  belong  unto  the  Lord  our  God  : 
but  the  things  that  are  revealed  belong  unto  us  and 
to  our  children  for  ever,  that  we  may  do  all  the 
words  of  this  law '),  but  scarcely  less  emphatic  is 
the  condemnation  of  the  heathen  practices  of  divina- 
tion found  throughout  the  Bible.  As  late  as  the 
2nd  cent.  B.  C.  we  find  Ben  Sira  protesting  against 
this  dabbling  in  mysteries  (Sir  3"'#  ;  cf.  Bab.  Sag. 
13a,  and  JQR  iii.  [1891]  690-8).  It  is  a  noteworthy 
fact  that  Genesis  and  the  books  grouped  under  the 
name  of  the  '  Former  Prophets '  (esp.  Judges, 
Samuel,  and  partly  Kings)  are  replete  with  prac- 
tices of  divination  scarcely  veiled  ;  they  represent 
a  primitive  state  of  mind  and  cult  in  which  the 
heathen  and  the  Jewish  elements  are  strangely 
blended  ;  one  can  follow  up,  as  it  were,  the  transi- 
tion from  one  to  the  ether,  but  the  people  do  not 
yet  clearly  distinguish  between  them.     The  seer 


DIVINATION  (Jewish) 


807 


and  the  prophet  rank  no  higher  at  the  beginning 
than  the  diviner  and  the  soothsayer,  and,  from  the 
information  we  are  able  to  cull  from  the  pages  of 
the  Bible,  both  seem  to  act  in  the  same  manner, 
one  appealing  to  Baal,  Dagon,  and  other  gods,  the 
other — the  prophet  and  the  seer — appealing  to  the 
God  of  Israel,  whilst  performing  almost  identical 
ceremonies  and  using  similar  practices.  Samuel, 
Saul,  Jonathan,  David,  Elijah,  Elisha,  and  others 
are  found  using  divination  of  various  forms  and 
degrees,  and  by  a  right  interpretation  of  their 
practices  much  is  explained.  No  real  condemna- 
tion of  these  practices  is  found  in  the  historical 
books,  such  as  appears  in  the  other  four  books  of 
the  Law,  and  in  the  fiery  denunciations  of  the 
'Later  Prophets.'  The  prophets  are  always  con- 
scious of  the  heathen  origin  of  these  practices,  and 
in  the  Apocryphal  literature  they  are  traced  back 
to  the  fallen  angel  Shemhazai  (see  the  legend  in 
Eth.  En.  8s  [Charles] ;  and  cf.  Gaster,  Chron.  of 
Jerahmeel,  1899,  p.  52,  ch.  xxv.).  But  no  denuncia- 
tion, however  strong  and  severe,  could  prevail 
against  the  desire  of  peering  into  the  future  and 
of  obtaining  information  from  whatever  source  or 
by  whatever  means  man  might  learn  that  which  is 
hidden  from  him. 

2.  Biblical  and  post-Biblical  references  to 
divination. — The  chief  passages  in  the  Pentateuch 
in  which  the  practices  of  divination  are  mentioned 
are  Dt  1810'-,  Lv  1926-  81  and  206' 27. 

(1)  It  will  serve  our  purpose  best  to  start  with 
the  m'naliMsh  (RV  'enchanter'),  from  the  root 
nahash,  which  is  of  frequent  occurrence  in  the 
Bible  and  in  post-Biblical  literature.  The  word  is 
used  by  Laban  (Gn  30'27)  ;  it  occurs  twice  (Nu  23s3 
241)  in  the  history  of  Balaam  ;  and  in  1  K  2033  the 
Aramaean  servants  of  Benhadad  watch  for  a  good 
omen  (RV  '  observed  diligently ').  The  history  of 
Gideon  and  that  of  Jonathan  furnish  us  with  two 
more  examples  of  this  mode  of  divination  from  the 
'first  word 'spoken  by  the  enemy  (Jg711,13, 1  S  147fF-), 
and  also  that  of  Eliezer  at  the  well  (Gn  2414), 
which  they  took  as  telling  them  of  their  future 
success.  We  shall  meet  with  a  similar  kind  of 
divination  later  on.  In  the  following  passages  the 
word  m'nahesh  can  also  mean  only  prognosticator 
from  omens,  and  not  '  enchanter '  as  RV  :  Lv  1926, 
Dt  1810,  and  2  K  21s  (2  Ch  336).  It  is  evidently  of 
Western  Aram,  origin.  It  cannot  be  connected 
with  nahash,  '  serpent '  or  '  snake.'  In  the  opinion 
of  the  present  writer,  there  is  no  trace  of  serpent- 
worship  among  the  Jews,  or  any  of  the  nations 
with  whom  they  came  in  contact.  The  transforma- 
tion of  Moses'  rod  into  a  serpent  belongs  to  the 
category  of  magic  and  not  to  divination  or  worship ; 
the  brazen  serpent  in  the  wilderness  was  merely 
symbolical  and  a  kind  of  protective  charm,  not  an 
object  of  worship. 

(a)  A  specific  form  of  divination — by  means  of 
the  cup — is  found  in  the  history  of  Joseph 
(Gn  445-16).  To  judge  from  later  parallels,  the 
practice  must  have  consisted  in  filling  a  cup  with 
water  or  wine,  and  gazing  intently  on  the  surface, 
till  the  beholder  saw  all  kinds  of  images.  The 
method  of  divining  by  cups  has  not  been  entirely 
lost.  Allusions  to  it  are  made  indirectly  in  the 
Talmud,  where  the  princes  (demons)  of  cups  [sari 
ha-kos)  and  egg-cups  (sari  besin)  are  mentioned. 
This  system  of  divination  is  alluded  to  in  manu- 
scripts in  the  writer's  possession  (Cod.  443,  etc.), 
where,  in  addition  to  these  two,  the  princes 
(demons)  of  the  cup-like  palm  of  the  hand  (sare 
ha-kaf)  and  the  princes  of  the  thumb-nails  (save 
ha-bohen)  are  mentioned.  The  method  of  divining 
from  the  palm  of  the  hand  is  also  described  in  an 
anonymous  compilation  (Mifaloth  Elohim,  Lem- 
berg,  1865,  no.  69),  where  it  is  used  for  finding  the 
thief  and   the  stolen   article.      All    the   formulae 


given  for  the  above-mentioned  modes  of  divination 
from  egg-cups,  etc.,  are  identical  in  all  essentials 
with  the  latter. 

Traces  of  divination  by  the  cup  and  by  finger-nails  have  been 
preserved,  though  no  longer  understood,  in  the  ceremonies  con- 
nected with  the  cup  of  wine  and  the  lighted  candle  used  at  the 
outgoing  of  the  Sabbath  at  the  service  called  Habdalah,  or  the 
division  between  Sabbath  and  the  weekday,  the  beginning  of 
the  week  being  considered  as  a  very  propitious  time.  When 
the  blessing  is  said  over  the  wine-cup  tilled  to  overflowing,  the 
man  performing  the  ceremony  at  a  certain  moment  sliades 
the  cup  and  looks  into  the  wine  ;  and,  when  the  blessing  over 
the  light  is  said,  it  is  customary  to  let  the  light  of  the  candle  fall 
on  the  finger-nails  and  to  look  at  them  intently.  There  is  no 
doubt  these  are  remnants  of  divination.  Other  explanations 
have  been  suggested  which  are  wide  of  the  mark.  Closely  allied, 
with  this  is  the  following  practice:  To  find  out  whether  a  man  will 
survive  the  year. — Take  silent  water  from  a  well  on  the  eve  of 
Hosha'anah  Rabba,  fill  a  clear  glass  vessel  with  it,  put  it  in  the 
middle  of  a  room,  then  look  into  it ;  if  he  sees  therein  a  face  with 
the  mouth  open,  he  will  live,  but,  if  the  mouth  is  closed,  he  will 
die.  This  must  be  done  in  the  hour  of  the  domination  of  the 
moon.  Some  do  it  on  the  Day  of  Atonement,  with  a  vessel  filled 
with  lighting  oil  instead  of  water  {Mifaloth,  119). 

Cup-like  bowls  with  magical  inscriptions  found 
in  Babylon  and  elsewhere  seem  to  have  been  also 
used  for  divination,  and  not  for  purely  therapeutic 
magic,  as  hitherto  believed.  The  conjurer  or  per- 
son who  wanted  to  divine,  or  to  detect  a  crime,  or 
anything  of  the  past,  present,  or  future,  looked, 
no  doubt,  into  the  bowl  filled  with  water  or  oil  and 
divined  from  it,  or  the  suspected  person  drank  the 
contents,  and  according  to  the  result  was  found 
innocent  or  guilty.  There  was  a  similar  operation 
in  the  case  of  the  woman  suspected  of  adultery 
(Nu  5^-)  :  a  cup  (earthen  vessel)  filled  with  water 
was  employed  ;  the  mysterious  power  by  which  the 
guilt  of  the  woman  was  to  be  detected  was  also 
a  written  inscription  (though  blotted  out  in  the 
water  of  bitterness),  without  the  addition  of  any 
of  the  names  of  demons  or  heathen  gods,  as  in  the 
Babylonian  bowls  ;  and  the  drinking  of  the  water 
showed  by  its  consequences  her  guilt  or  her 
innocence.  It  was  an  ordeal  (a. v.)  through  the 
*  divining  cup.' 

Instead  of  peering  into  bowls  filled  with  shining 
liquid,  we  find  it  recorded  in  Talmudic  and  later 
times  that  it  was  customary  to  gaze  into  brass  or 
glass  mirrors  for  the  same  purpose  ;  and  a  distinct 
formula  exists  for  crystal-gazing,  or,  as  it  is  phrased, 
'  seeing  the  princes  (demons)  of  the  crystal  (sare 
hab'ddlah).'  This  is  distinctly  different  from 
throwing  metal  pieces  into  cups  and  watching  the 
movements  of  the  water,  or  divination  by  means 
of  molten  wax  or  lead  poured  into  a  cup  filled  with 
water  by  the  conjurer  who  attends  on  the  patient, 
in  order  to  find  out,  from  the  shape  which  the  wax 
or  the  lead  assumes,  the  real  cause  of  the  illness — 
a  universal  practice  among  the  nations  of  the  Near 
East,  Jews  and  non-Jews  alike.  The  oldest 
example  of  this  is  found  in  the  Alexander  legend 
of  pseudo-Callisthenes. 

(b)  Under  the  general  term  nihush  (from  the 
same  root  nahash)  fall  also  the  various  forms  of 
divination  by  observation  of  signs  not  produced 
by  any  direct  act  of  the  diviner ;  Jewish  tradition 
is  unanimous  on  this  interpretation  of  the  term. 

(a)  Augury  in  a  somewhat  limited  form  is  the 
first  to  be  considered.  There  is  no  passage  in  the 
Bible  which  refers  directly  to  the  flight  of  birds, 
or  to  their  peculiar  movements  on  certain  occasions  ; 
the  passage  in  Ec  1020  ('A  bird  of  the  air  shall 
carry  the  voice ')  is  metaphorical.  In  Talmudic 
times  the  science  of  haruspicy  appears  to  have 
reached  the  Jews  from  the  Arabs  or  some  other 
people  who  coined  the  technical  expression  tayyar 
(cf.  the  Arab,  root  tair= '  bird,'  and  mantiq  al-tair). 
It  is  especially  the  raven  that  is  mentioned  as  a 
bird  of  omen.  The  reference  to  ravens  in  the 
history  of  Elijah  (1  K  176)  is  not  explicit  enough 
to  allow  us  to  draw  any  definite  conclusions,  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  Noah's  sending  the  raven  out 


808 


DIVINATION  (Jewish) 


of  the  ark  on  a  kind  of  errand  of  divination  (Gn  87) 
no  doubt  lent  colour  to  the  belief  so  widely  spread 
in  the  significance  of  the  mysterious  movements  of 
the  raven.  In  Bab.  Gittin  45a  and  the  Pesikta 
1566,  Midr.  Rabb.  on  Numb.  sec.  19,  2376,  and 
Midr.  on  Ec  1020,  divination  from  the  flight  of  birds 
is  described  as  the  wisdom  of  Eastern  sages.  The 
raven  by  his  croak  warns  Ilish  of  the  danger  which 
awaits  him  ;  one  who  understands  the  language  of 
birds  explains  it  to  him  ;  he  takes  the  warning  to 
heart,  and  escapes.  The  references  in  Talmudic 
literature  are,  however,  not  numerous  enough  to 
give  us  full  insight  into  divination  from  birds.  In 
the  Zohar  and  in  the  Tikkunim  reference  is  often 
made  to  the  twittering  of  birds  as  foretelling  future 
events  such  as  the  death  of  man,  etc.  In  Cod. 
Gaster  335  numerous  mediaeval  texts  have  been 
collected,  dealing  with  divination  from  the  twit- 
tering of  birds,  and  especially  from  the  croaking  of 
the  raven.  They  belong  mostly  to  the  pseud- 
epigraphical  writings,  and  the  Hebrew  texts 
may  be  translations  from  the  Arabic,  though  the 
original  source  may  lie  far  back  in  ancient  times. 
In  Hebrew  legends  King  Solomon  was  credited 
with  the  knowledge  of  the  language  of  birds.  He 
overheard  a  conversation  between  a  swallow  and 
its  female,  in  which  it  boasted  of  being  able  to 
destroy  the  Temple  with  a  kick  of  its  foot,  and, 
questioned  by  Solomon,  said  :  '  Should  I  not  boast 
before  my  wife  ? '  ( Parables  of  Solomon,  ed.  Con- 
stantinople, 1516).  In  another  legend  he  is 
rebuked  and  humbled  by  an  ant  (Maase  Hane- 
■malah).  A  Hebrew  tale  older  than  the  12th  cent, 
tells  of  a  boy  who  was  taught  the  language  of  birds, 
and  was  thereby  able  to  solve  some  riddles  and  to 
foretell  future  events  (Gaster,  '  Fairy  Tales  from 
inedited  Hebrew  MSS,'  no.  iv.  'Story  of  the  Young 
Man  and  the  Ravens,'  in  FL  vii.  [1896]  242  ff.). 

The  dove  is  also  mentioned  occasionally  as  a 
bird  of  good  omen  ;  it  is  identified  with  the  nation. 
Through  the  peculiar  movement  of  a  dove  Abishai 
learns  of  the  danger  of  David,  who  has  fallen  into 
the  hand  of  the  giants  of  Nob,  not  to  speak  of  the 
dove  sent  by  Noah  after  the  raven  on  a  similar 
errand,  or  of  the  dove  as  a  symbol  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  in  the  baptism  of  Jesus  (Gaster,  ZDMG 
lxii.  [1908]  232 ff'.  and  528 ff'.). 

(/S)  Ezk  2121  l26l  '  he  looked  in  the  liver '  refers  to 
a  kind  of  divination  (hepatoscopy)  not  otherwise 
known  among  the  Jews.  This  is  not  the  place  to 
discuss  what  this  looking  into  the  liver  may  mean, 
and  whether  the  future  was  prognosticated  from  a 
special  conformation  of  the  liver  or  from  the  con- 
vulsions or  spasmodic  movements  of  the  liver  of 
the  dying  animal.  This  latter  seems  to  be  nearer 
the  truth,  for  a  peculiar  kind  of  divination  is  still 
in  existence  which  depends  upon  the  twitching  or 
convulsion  of  the  separate  portions  of  the  human 
body.  No  doubt  it  is  a  direct  outcome  of  the 
practice  of  looking  into  the  liver  or  lungs  of 
sacrificial  victims  for  the  purpose  of  divination,  or 
a  parallel  to  it.  The  convulsions  or  twitchings  of 
the  living  took  the  place  of  those  of  the  dying 
victim  of  old.  A  compilation  similar  to  that  which 
the  Greeks  ascribed  to  Melampus  appears  in 
Hebrew  literature  under  the  title  Sepher  Eefafoth. 
It  is  found  already  in  a  manuscript  of  the  12th 
century  (Br.  Mus.  Or.  2853,  fol.  62a)  ;  Judah 
Hasid,  Eleazar  of  Worms,  and  others  mention  it, 
and  Elijah  de  Vidas  prints  it  from  old  MSS  (Midr. 
Talpijot,  Lemberg,  1875,  fol.  8a-b ;  see  also 
Chwolson, Ssabier,  St.  Petersburg,  1856,  ii.  266-272). 

(7)  Ancient  tradition  also  identifies  nahash  with 
omens.  In  the  Sifra  to  Lv  1926  and  in  the  SifrS  to 
Dt  181Mr-  it  is  stated  that  nahash  means  to  see 
omens  in  such  incidents  as  bread  falling  from  one's 
mouth,  or  a  staff  from  one's  hand,  or  a  snake 
crawling  on  the  right  side,  or  a  fox  on  the  left 


hand,  or  a  fox's  tail  trailing  across  the  road,  or  a 
raven  croaking  when  a  man  starts  on  a  journey. 
All  these  forebode  evil  to  his  enterprise  ;  further- 
more, those  who  listen  to  the  twittering  of  birds 
or  the  squealing  of  a  weasel,  and  those  who  deduce 
from  a  given  star  being  in  the  ascendant  that  the 
time  is  propitious  for  an  undertaking,  practise 
divination.  Star-gazing  was  also  thus  included 
under  the  term  nahash,  and  these  practices  were 
called  darkS  ha-Emorei  (the  practices  of  the 
Amorites  or  heathen),  and  are  condemned  as 
idolatrous. 

On  account  of  their  importance,  we  give  here  full  references 
to  all  the  passages  on  the  ways  of  the  Amorites  in  Rabbinical 
literature.  These  are  :  Sifra,  ed.  Weiss,  p.  90  ;  Sifrg,  ed.  Fried- 
man, ch.  171  f.;  Bah.  Hullin  77  ;  Shabb.  676  ;  Tosefta  Shabb.  vi., 
ed.  Zuckermandel,  pp.  117-119  ;  Sanh.  65a-68 ;  Jer.  Shabb. 
vii.  2 ;  Yallput.  Sim.  1.  fol.  169c-d,  §  587 ;  Maimonides,  Hilcot 
'Aboda  Zara,  ch.  xi. ;  Jacob  ben  Asher,  Tur  Yoreh  de'ah,  ch. 
179 ;  and  Karo,  Shulhan  'Aruch,  ch.  179. 

(8)  A  peculiar  kind  of  divination  is  the  study  of 
the  shadow  on  the  moonlit  night  of  Hosha'anah 
Rabba  ;  for,  if  a  man  loses  his  shadow  on  that 
night,  he  is  sure  to  die  in  the  course  of  the  year 
(cf.  Chamisso,  Peter  Schlemihl,  tr.  Bowring,  Lon- 
don, 1878).  Very  likely  the  origin  of  this  practice 
is  found  in  the  statement,  '  For  their  shadow  has 
departed  from  them '  (Nu  149). 

(2)  M''6nen  (RV  'who  practises  augury'),  an- 
other kind  of  divination  of  which  even  tradition 
has  not  preserved  a  definite  interpretation.  One 
connects  it  with  the  root  'ayin,  'eye,'  and  makes 
the  me'6nen  to  be  'one  who  conjures,'  'one  who 
produces  hallucinations '  (ahizath  'enayin) ;  another 
seems  to  connect  it  with  'anan,  '  cloud,'  probably 
= '  one  who  studies  the  formation  of  the  clouds ' ; 
but  it  is  not  explained  for  what  purpose  the  clouds 
are  to  be  studied,  (a)  It  appears  to  the. writer 
that  the  me'6nen  is  the  weather-prophet  in  the 
widest  sense,  not  one  who  merely  studied  the 
clouds  for  some  purpose  of  divination,  but  one 
who  could  affect  the  gathering  of  clouds,  and  their 
dispersal.  That  man  was  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  an  agricultural  people,  for  he  could  cause 
drought  or  rain,  bring  rich  harvest,  or  complete 
failure  with  famine  and  starvation.  Weather- 
makers  figure  in  the  literature  of  popular  magic 
throughout  the  whole  world,  and  it  would  therefore 
have  been  surprising  to  find  so  important  a  man 
missing  among  those  ancient  diviners  and  sooth- 
sayers. The  law  would  never  have  condemned  to 
death  a  man  who  merely  looked  at  the  clouds  ;  he 
must  be  a  man  who  could  cause  serious  hardship, 
and  perhaps  lead  people  astray  to  false  beliefs. 
Seen  in  this  light,  the  various  incidents  in  the 
historical  books  assume  a  new  and  most  satisfac- 
tory complexion.  Samuel  at  the  time  of  the 
wheat  harvest  calls  on  the  Lord  to  bring  thunder 
and  rain — a  most  inopportune  time  (1  S  1217) ; 
here  we  have  the  very  action  of  the  me'6nen. 
Then  we  have  Elijah,  who  tells  Ahab  (1  K  171), 
'  There  shall  not  be  dew  nor  rain  these  years,  but 
according  to  my  word.'  Ahab  seeks  him  every- 
where, evidently  believing  that  it  lay  in  the  power 
of  Elijah  to  make  and  unmake  drought.  It  will 
now  be  easier  to  understand  the  sign  of  Gideon, 
who  asked  that  the  fleece  of  wool  should  on  one 
night  be  found  wet.  •'  If  there  be  dew  on  the  fleece 
only,  and  it  be  dry  upon  all  the  ground '  ( Jg  6s7), 
and  vice  versa  (v.S9).  These  were  the  signs  ex- 
pected of  the  me'6nen.  Very  likely  the  request 
of  Joshua,  that  the  sun  and  moon  should  stand 
still,  and  that  a  hail-storm  should  overtake  the 
army  of  the  enemy  and  destroy  them  (Jos  1012'-), 
Joshua  appearing  as  a  me'6nen,  and,  finally, 
Elijah  bringing  down  sheets  of  lightning  in  order 
to  destroy  the  messengers  of  the  king  of  Samaria 
(2  K  l10*'),  may  be  further  echoes  of  a  similar 
conception.     Even  the  prophet  Amos  defines  the 


DIVINATION  (Jewish) 


809 


power  of  God  in  the  sentence,  '  I  caused  it  to  rain 
upon  one  city  and  not  upon  another '  (Am  47).  In 
the  Talmud  we  find  the  story  of  Nakdimon  ben 
Gorion  and  the  twelve  wells  which  are  filled  at  his 
prayer  by  the  appointed  day,  and  the  sun  shining 
again  although  it  had  apparently  already  set 
(Ta'anit,  fol.  196-20a,  Exempla  no.  85 ;  Nissim,  fol. 
196 ;  Maase  Buck,  no.  96),  and  the  stories  of 
rloni  ha-me'agel,  Raba,  and  others  who  force  rain 
to  come  down  (Gaster,  '  Beitrage,'  in  Graetz,  Ztschr. 
fiir  jiid.  Geschichte  und  Wissenschaft,  1882  [and 
Bucharest,  1S83,  ch.  xi.  p.  79  ff.]). 

(b)  Of  more  importance  would  be  the  man  who 
could  foretell  the  weather  for  the  coming  year. 
R.  Akiba  (SifrS,  §  171)  explains  me'Snen  to  be  the 
man  who  can  foretell  from  the  weather  on  the  eve 
of  the  Sabbatical  (seventh)  Year  [or  rather  on  the 
eve  of  Shabuoth,  Feast  of  Weeks]  whether  the 
year  will  be  one  of  rain  or  drought,  of  plenty  or 
scarcity.  In  the  Talmud  we  find  that  from  the 
form  of  the  ascending  cloud  of  smoke  which  rose 
from  the  altar  in  the  Temple  on  the  Day  of  New 
Year  and  subsequent  few  days  the  weather  for  the 
next  year  could  De  predicted,  and  that  the  weather 
of  certain  days  was  taken  as  prognosticating  that 
of  the  next  year  (see  Gaster,  '  Jew.  Weather  Lore,' 
in  jubilee  number  of  the  Jewish  Chronicle,  1891, 
where  the  whole  literature  is  given).  The  cloud  of 
smoke  was  called  Anan  as  the  cloud  of  mist  and 
rain.  Transferred  to  the  Kalendse  of  January, 
this  prognostication  was  attributed  to  Ezra  (see 
Tischendorf,  Apocalypses  apocr.,  Leipzig,  1866, 
Prolegomena,  pp.  xiii-xiv). 

The  mf'dnen  was  the  master  of  thunder  and 
rain,  as  shown  by  Samuel  and  Elijah.  The  latter, 
moreover,  has  experience  of  wind  and  earthquake 
before  the  appearance  of  God  (1  K  19ut).  Earth- 
quake and  lightning  were  further  taken  as  pre- 
monitory signs  of  disaster.  In  Jewish  literature, 
such  brontologia  and  seismologia  have  been  pre- 
served under  the  title  SimanS  rdashim  ve-ra  amim 
(Constantinople,  n.d.).  In  Greek  literature  they 
were  attributed  to  Da vid  ( Fabrieius,  Cod.  Pseudep. 
VT,  Hamburg,  1713-33,  p.  1162,  and  NT,  do.  1703- 
19,  i.  951-953 ;  Gaster,  Lit.  Pop.  Rum.  506). 

(c)  It  is  doubtful  whether  astrology  and  the  ob- 
servation of  stars  and  planets  come  within  the 
sphere  of  the  me'6nen's  activity.  Here  we  encoun- 
ter the  special  name  'star-gazers.'  The  knowledge 
of  astrology,  star-gazing,  divination  by  constella- 
tions, and  forecasting  from  the  new  moon  is  clear 
from  Is  4713,  which  exhibits  a  distinct  difference  be- 
tween the  m''6nm — the  weather-prophet — and  the 
real  astrologer,  whose  observations  were  limited 
to  the  changes,  conjunctions,  and  other  positions 
assumed  by  the  heavenly  bodies.  The  phrase 
h6beri  shamayim,  if  it  means  'dividers  of  heavens,' 
i.e.  those  who  divide  up  the  heavenly  circle  into  a 
number  of  constellations  and  forecast  the  future 
from  them,  would  correspond  to  the  gazfrin  in  Dn 
227  47  etc.  To  this  section  belongs  the  horoscope 
and  other  astrological  divinations  dependent  upon 
the  changes  of  the  calendar  and  the  juxtaposition 
of  days,  and  the  conjunction  of  the  stars  and 
planets,  as  well  as  the  lists  of  good  and  bad, 
ominous  and  propitious,  days.  This  was  attri- 
buted by  Maimonides  and  Jacob  ben  Asher  (locc. 
citt.)  to  the  mc'Snen,  whom  they  confused  with 
the  astrologer.  Reference  should  be  made  in  this 
connexion  to  divination  from  the  sudden  appear- 
ance of  stars  and  comets,  e.g.  Balaam's  prophecy 
(Nu  2417),  to  which  such  Messianic  importance  has 
been  attached  ever  since  by  Jews,  Samaritans,  and 
Christians.  So,  Josephus  tells  us  (BJ  VI.  v.  3 
[Niese,  §  289]) :  '  There  was  a  star  resembling  a 
sword,  which  stood  over  the  city,'  foretelling  the 
impending  destruction  of  the  town.  For  the  star 
m  the  NT  (Mt  2),  and  the  further  development  of 


the  same  idea  in  the  Apocrypha,  see  R.  Hofmann, 

Leben  Jesu  n.  d.  Apokryphen,  Leipzig,  1851 ;  Winer, 
Bibl.  RWB,  1847,  ii.  52311'.  A  star  appears  at  the 
birth  of  Abraham,  and  is  interpreted  as  a  portent 
of  evil  (Chron.  Jerahmeel,  xxxiv.  1).  The  appear- 
ance of  many  suns  in  the  dream  is  found  in  the 
oracle  of  the  '  Sybil  of  Tibur,'  probably  originally 
a  lost  Biblical  apocryphon  (Gaster,  JPAS,  July 
1910,  pt.  iii.  p.  609) ;  cf.  also  the  Song  of  Deborah 
(Jg  52') :  '  The  stars  in  their  courses  fought  against 
Sisera.' 

(3)  KGsem,  kesem  (RV  'diviner,'  'divination'). — 
(a)  Taking  the  various  passages  together  where 
this  word  occurs  in  the  Bible,  and  also  looking  at 
the  traditional  interpretation,  we  find,  in  the  first 
place,  that  the  k6sem  was  a  professional  diviner, 
trained  in  the  art  of  kesem,  unlike  the  previously 
mentioned  diviners,  who  practised  without  any 
special  professional  training,  and  who  thereby  did 
not  obtain  any  official  standing.  The  ktjsem,  on 
the  other  hand,  was  the  professional  (priestly) 
seer,  '  seeing '  in  a  state  of  trance  or  ecstasy 
brought  about  by  one  means  or  another,  in  which 
he  spoke  words  of  divination  (oracles)  concerning 
future  events.  This  state  of  trance  was  brought 
about  '  by  bowing  down  to  the  earth  [evidently 
like  the  attitude  of  Elijah,  1  K  1842],  and  crying 
aloud,  or  looking  into  a  brass  or  glass  mirror,  or 
taking  a  stick  in  the  hand  and  leaning  heavily 
upon  it,  or  striking  therewith  the  ground,  until  he 
loses  consciousness  and  talks'  (Tur,  I.e.  ch.  179). 
In  the  Bible  in  many  passages  we  find  the  kdsem 
holding  among  the  heathen  the  same  position  as 
the  hdzeh  or  rd'eh  among  the  Jews.  But  the 
Jewish  conception  of  revelation  is  differentiated 
as  the  uncovering  of  the  hidden  by  the  grace  and 
inspiration  of  God,  from  the  heathen  kdsem,  who 
is  thought  to  have  been  inspired  by  an  evil  spirit 
whilst  he  himself  was  unconscious.  That  uncon- 
sciousness is  brought  about  by  action,  for  action 
characterizes  this  kind  of  divination,  and  action  on 
definite  lines.  The  k6sem  is  not  confined  to  West- 
ern Aramaean  peoples ;  according  to  the  Bible,  the 
men  of  Moab,  Midian,  and,  later  on,  the  Philistines, 
had  professional  k6semim.  Balaam  is  the  first  men- 
tioned ;  and  it  is  clear,  from  the  description  given 
in  Nu  244,  that,  after  certain  magical  operations 
had  been  performed,  such  as  building  of  altars, 
walking  in  a  definite  way,  and  using,  no  doubt, 
other  means,  he  falls  into  a  trance,  or,  as  it  is  put 
there  :  '  And  the  man  whose  eye  was  closed  saith  : 
he  saith,  which  heareth  the  words  of  God,  which 
seeth  the  vision  of  the  Almighty,  falling  down,  and 
having  his  eyes  opened  [internal].'  As  far  as  can 
be  judged,  some  tangible  results  were  expected  by 
Balak  from  the  kesem  of  Balaam,  such  as  a  curse 
or  blight,  or  a  direct  indication  of  the  best  means 
of  overcoming  the  power  which  protected  Israel. 
The  k6semim,  together  with  the  priests,  were  asked 
by  the  Philistines  (1  S.62-9)  to  find  out  the  cause 
of  the  plague,  and  they  advised  a  divination  by 
means  of  cows  walking  in  a  definite  direction. 

(b)  The  eldest  tradition  in  Si/re  {I.e.)  connects 
kesem  also  with  rhabdomancy,  i.e.  divination  by 
means  of  staff,  rod,  arrows,  etc.  In  our  opinion, 
the  earliest  example  of  this  divination  is  Jacob's 
peeled  rods  (Gn  3037ff-)>  an  incident  which  has  re- 
mained very  obscure  in  spite  of  all  the  commen- 
tators, who  seem  to  have  overlooked  Gn  3110- 12 — 
the  vision  of  Jacob  and  the  appearance  of  the 
angel.  The  peeling  of  the  rods  and  putting  them 
in  the  trough  was  an  act  of  divination  which  was 
explained  to  him  by  the  angel  in  his  dream ;  for 
surely  the  peeling  alone  could  not,  even  on  the 
basis  of  physiological  impressions,  have  had  the  re- 
sult of  producing  so  widely  different  marks  as  black 
sheep  and  goats,  ring-straked,  speckled,  grisled, 
etc.  —  too  complex  a  result  to  be  expected   from 


810 


DIVINATION  (Jewish) 


one  and  the  same  impression.  R.  Moses  of  Couey 
(1235)  has  preserved  to  us  the  description  of  an 
oracle  or  divination  by  means  of  peeled  rods  which 
were  thrown  into  the  air,  and,  according  as  the 
peeled  or  unpeeled  side  fell  uppermost,  success  in 
marriage  or  the  opposite  was  indicated  (R.  Joseph 
Karo,  in  his  commentary  to  the  Tur,  I.e.).  The 
appeal  to  the  staff  as  an  oracle  we  find  in  Hos  412. 
With  some  hesitation,  one  might  also  mention  here 
the  rod  of  Moses  wherewith  he  was  to  do  the  signs 
(Ex  417),and  which  has  been  invested  with  miracu- 
lous powers  by  very  numerous  legends,  and  believed 
to  have  been  a  rod  from  Paradise  (see  Chron.  Jerah- 
meel).  Another  rod  from  Paradise,  used  as  a  beam 
in  the  building  of  the  Temple,  fills  an  important 
r61e  in  the  legend  of  the  history  of  the  Cross.  The 
angel  that  appears  to  Gideon  (Jg  621)  also  holds  a 
staif  in  his  hands,  with  which  he  touches  the  meat 
and  the  unleavened  bread,  and  fire  comes  out  from 
the  rock.  Elisha  sends  Gehazi  with  his  staif  to 
put  it  on  the  face  of  the  dead  child  of  the  Shunam- 
mite,  so  that  it  may  revive  (2  K  429),  and  he  tells 
him  :  '  If  thou  meet  any  man,  salute  him  not ;  and 
if  any  man  salute  thee,  answer  him  not  again.' 
The  spell  is  not  to  be  broken,  whilst  the  action  is 
to  be  completed  by  the  staff  or  divining  rod.  Of 
course,  it  is  here  a  miracle  to  be  performed  through 
the  grace  of  God. 

From  this  time  onwards  we  hear  of  the  wand  of  the  magician ; 
and  Rabbinical  tradition  demands  that  the  ledsem  shall  use, 
among  other  things,  a  staff  or  a  rod  {'fur.  I.e.).  Mention  may  be 
made  also  of  the  budding  rod  of  Aaron,  by  which  his  selection 
was  to  be  made  manifest  (Nu  178),  to  which  numerous  parallels 
exist.  In  most  cases  it  is  a  withered  rod  or  staff  stuck  in  the 
earth,  which  unexpectedly  buds  and  flourishes,  and  is  thereby 
a  sign  to  the  penitent  that  his  sin  has  been  forgiven :  e.g.  the 
legend  of  Lot,  who  waters  the  rod  witb  mouthfuls  of  water 
brought  from  Jordan  at  the  bidding  of  Abraham  ;  and  the  flour- 
ishing rod  proclaims  forgiveness  of  sin  (Fabricius,  Cod.  Pseud. 
VT\.  428-31 ;  Gaster,  Lit.  Pop.  Rum.  284-86).  Mediajval  litera- 
ture knows  a  similar  legend  about  a  sinner  appealing  to  R.  Judah 
Hasid,  when  the  rod  flourished  {Moose  Buch,  and  Tendlau, 
Sagen,  1873,  no.  62;  cf.  the  legend  of  Tannhauser);  and  a 
similar  selection  of  Joseph  by  the  budding  rod  to  take  Mary 
as  his  ward  is  told  in  Protev.  Jacobi,  ch.  8  (ed.  Teschendorf, 
Evang.  Apoe.,  Leipzig,  1853,  pp.  16-19),  and  pseudo-Matth.  (chs. 
iv.-vhi.  pp.  60-67),  not  to  speak  of  the  innumerable  parallels  in 
the  Legends  of  Saints  and  in  popular  literature. 

Throwing  sticks  into  the  air  and  watching  the 
way  they  fall  is  still  one  of  the  many  forms  of 
rhabdomancy.  To  this  kind  of  divination  belongs 
the  shooting  of  arrows,  which  is  tantamount  to 
sending  a  pointed  stick  high  into  the  air  and 
watching  the  direction  in  which  it  falls.  It  is  as 
such  an  act  of  divination  that  the  shooting  of 
arrows  by  Jonathan  is  best  explained  (1  S  2020£r'). 
The  shooting  of  arrows  for  the  purpose  of  kesem  is 
found  in  the  history  of  Joash  (2  K  1315ff-j.  The 
smiting  of  the  ground  seems  to  have  been  an  accom- 
panying ceremony.  The  use  of  the  arrow  in  kesem 
appears  also  in  Ezk  2121  <26'.  The  fall  of  arrows  was 
to  indicate  the  road  the  king  of  Babylon  was  to 
take,  for  the  arrows  must  have  been  shot  straight 
up  into  the  air  and  allowed  to  fall  by  themselves. 
In  the  legends  about  the  fall  of  the  Temple  (Bab. 
Gittin,  56a,  Exempla  no.  70),  Nero  is  said  to  have 
shot  arrows  from  the  four  corners,  and,  as  they  all 
fell  into  Jerusalem,  it  indicated  to  him  the  impend- 
ing fall  of  the  town.  It  is  still  an  element  in  Ori- 
ental, notably  Gipsy,  fairy-tales  for  the  hero  to 
shoot  an  arrow  into  the  air  and  go  in  quest  of  it, 
and  where  the  arrow  falls  things  await  him — good 
or  evil. 

(c)  Akin  to  these  forms  of  divination  would  be 
the  tree  oracle — the  shaking  of  the  boughs  in  one 
direction  or  another  being  taken  as  prognostication 
of  some  future  event.  This  must  have  been  the 
meaning  of  the  oak  of.  Meonen  ( Jg  937).  David 
heard  in  the  noise  of  the  shaking  boughs  of  the 
mulberry  tree  (2  S  524)  the  sound  of  marching.  In 
Talmudic  times  we  find  a  special  art  of  divination 
mentioned  under  the  name  of  sihath  d'kalim,  the 


language  of  trees.  R.  Yohanan  ben  Zakkai  is 
mentioned  as  one  who  possessed  this  knowledge 
(see  Bab.  Sukkah,  28a).  Abraham  Gaon,  who 
lived  in  the  year  1140  of  the  Seleucid  era  (A.D. 
829),  could  understand  the  speech  of  palms  (Aruch, 
s.v.,  Sh.  ii.).  Through  Arabic  influences,  special 
books  of  divination  by  means  of  palm  trees  or 
palm  leaves  (ascribed  to  Abu  Iflah  of  Saragossa) 
have  been  preserved  in  Hebrew  literature,  in  which 
the  origin  of  this  science  is  referred  back  to  King 
Solomon  (Cod.  Gaster,  19,  3296,  523).  Another 
species  of  divination  mentioned  in  the  Talmud  and 
Midrash  concerns  the  tree  as  a  life  token.  At  the 
birth  of  the  child  a  tree  is  planted,  and  from  its 
state  of  flourishing  or  decay  one  can  divine  the 
state  of  the  man  himself.  By  seeing  the  withering 
of  Job's  tree  planted  in  their  garden  his  three 
friends  knew  of  his  misfortune,  and  came  to  com- 
fort him.  Such  trees  were  sometimes  cut  on  the 
day  of  marriage,  to  be  used  as  ornaments ;  the 
premature  cutting  of  such  a  tree  by  a  Roman 
general  brought  about,  according  to  the  Talmud, 
the  war  of  Betar  (Bab.  Gittin,  57a). 

(4)  Hdber  (RV  '  charmer '). — Not  much  informa- 
tion is  found  in  the  Bible  concerning  the  activity 
denoted  by  this  name.  The  tradition  in  Si/re"  {I.e.) 
which  explains  the  hdber  as  one  who  could  gather 
together  (haber,  'companion')  huge  or  small  ani- 
mals according  to  his  skill — for  what  purpose  is 
not  stated — throws  an  unexpected  light  on  many 
incidents  in  the  Bible  which  have  hitherto  remained 
obscure,  in  which  we  recognize  now  the  work  of 
the  hdber,  though  not  under  that  name.  If  a 
similar  view  is  to  be  taken  of  him  as  of  the 
me'dnen  (weather-maker)  he  must  have  been  a 
man  who  could  bring  or  avert,  foretell  the  coming 
or  disappearance  of  obnoxious  animals.  His  inclu- 
sion in  the  list  in  Deut.  would  thus  be  thoroughly 
justified ;  for  to  bring  wild  animals  into  the  land 
or  to  draw  them  away  would  be  a  curse  or  a 
blessing  to  the  people.  To  this  category  would  be- 
long the  priests  who  were  asked  for  by  the  Cutheans 
from  the  king  of  Assyria,  to  be  sent  from  Babylon 
to  Samaria  in  order  to  drive  away  the  lions  which 
infested  the  land  (2  K  1726"27).  The  priest  sent 
was  no  doubt  considered  to  be  a  powerful  diviner 
or  charmer,  a  hdber.  Similarly  Elisha,  upon  whose 
curse  two  she-bears  appeared  and  destroyed  the 
children  after  they  mocked  him,  acts  as  a  kind  of 
hdber  (2  K  224).  So  also  a  certain  man  from  the 
sons  of  the  prophets  (1  K  2035tf-),  at  whose  bidding 
a  lion  kills  the  disobedient  fellow-prophet,  acts  as 
a  hdber  who  has  power  over  animals  for  good  or 
evil.  In  1  K  13  we  see  the  lion  turning  against 
the  prophet  (charmer)  whose  spell  was  broken 
through  disobedience,  although  his  power  is  still 
shown  by  the  animal's  standing  quietly  by  the 
corpse  next  to  the  ass  without  hurting  the  latter. 
Going  higher  up  the  stream  of  Biblical  tradition, 
we  find  Samson  (Jg  148)  tearing  to  pieces  a  lion,  in 
whose  carcass  bees  afterwards  swarm,  contrary  to 
the  nature  of  bees,  which  never  hive  in  dead  bodies. 
Samson  is  able  also  single-handed  to  catch  three 
hundred  foxes  and  put  firebrands  between  their 
tails  (Jg  154).  Here  we  have  an  exact  portraiture 
of  a  hdber  (as  interpreted  by  the  present  writer), 
one  who  is  able  to  gather  animals  either  for  good 
or  for  evil  purposes.  According  to  later  tradition, 
the  presence  of  a  pious  man  or  reputed  saint  was 
sufficient  to  drive  away  obnoxious  animals  from  a 
place.  In  the  Temple  area  itself  no  fly  was  seen, 
nor  did  a  wild  animal  ever  hurt  any  visitor  to 
Jerusalem  {Pirki  Aboth).  The  sanctuary  took  the 
place  of  the  pious  man  in  averting  the  evil  of  wild 
beasts  (see  Gaster,  'Beitrage,'  eh.  iv.  p.  22  f.,  in 
connexion  with  the  legends  of  Virgil,  St.  Patrick, 
etc.). 

How  far  Beelzebub  would  fall  within  this  cats- 


DIVINATION  (Jewish) 


811 


gory  would  be  difficult  to  state,  but  the  Phili- 
stines attributed  the  plague  of  mice  (1  S  64'- 18)  to 
the  presence  of  the  ark,  and  they  returned  golden 
mice  as  a  votive  ottering  with  it.  Here  the  ark,  in 
inflicting  the  plague,  acted  in  a  similar  though 
opposite  direction  to  the  sanctuary  (ark)  in  Jeru- 
salem, which  prevented  a  plague  of  vermin. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  all  the  acts  of  divi- 
nation mentioned  hitherto  are  found  among  the 
ten  plagues  inflicted  by  Moses  in  Egypt  at  the 
bidding  of  the  Lord,  no  doubt  to  bring  home  to 
the  Egyptians,  in  the  manner  best  understood  by 
them,  that  all  the  acts  of  the  enchanters,  augurs, 
charmers,  weather-makers,  could  also  be  performed 
by  a  man  in  the  name  of  another  power  against 
whom  their  own  diviners  and  charmers  could  not 
prevail.  We  have — with  the  addition  of  (a)  the  rods 
of  Moses  and  Aaron  turned  into  snakes — (l)  blood, 
(2)  frogs,  (3)  lice,  (4)  various  animals,  (5)  plague, 
(6)  boils,  (7)  hail  storm,  (8)  locusts,  (9)  darkness, 
and  (10)  the  death  of  the  firstborn.  These  corre- 
spond, with  the  exception  of  the  last,  to  which 
reference  will  be  made  later  on,  to  the  arts  of  the 
m'nahesh  (a),  m''6nen  (7,  9),  kdsem  (1,  3,  5,  6)  and 
h6ber  (2,  4,  8).  These  practices  known  in  Egypt 
were  strictly  forbidden  to  be  practised  by  the 
Jews,  and  were  strongly  denounced  in  Leviticus 
and  Deuteronomy. 

The  process  of  elimination  of  deep-rooted  practices  and  of 
transforming  them  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  Judaism, 
runs  on  parallel  lines  with  those  of  the  spread  of  Christianity 
and  of  Islam.  Local  practices  and  heathen  ceremonies  were 
adapted  with  slight  changes  to  the  new  order  of  things  ;  heathen 
gods  became  local  saints,  heathen  practices  became  Christian 
in  the  Church.  Similarly,  the  forbidden  practices  of  the 
m'naliesh,  k'mem,  hdber,  etc.,  were  adopted  and  adapted  to  the 
Bpirit  of  Judaism,  and  they  were  practised  by  leading  men — 
Beers,  priests,  judges,  etc. — in  the  name  of  the  Lord  God 
of  Israel.  And  thus  the  people  were  slowly  educated,  until, 
with  the  establishment  of  the  Temple  in  Jerusalem  and  the  era 
of  the  great  prophets,  they  broke  finally  with  the  past,  and 
drove  even  the  remnants  of  ancient  superstition  out  of  the 
Jewish  worship  and  Jewish  practice. 

(5)  'db,  yidd''6ni,  ddresh  el-hammethim  (RV 
'  familiar  spirit,' '  wizard,' '  necromancer '). — There 
still  remains  another  kind  of  divination,  which 
rests  on  the  conception  of  Animism  and  the  sur- 
vival of  the  dead.  No  hint  is  given  in  the  Bible 
whether  it  was  a  spirit  of  the  dead  or  his  material 
body  which  was  sought  after  or  inquired  of.  It  is 
a  fact  that  '6b  and  yidd''6nl  always  occur  together 
except  in  the  history  of  the  woman  of  Endor  (but 
even  there  in  the  same  chapter  Saul  is  mentioned 
as  having  destroyed  [IS  283]  familiar  spirits  and 
wizards)  and  Is  294,  where  the  voice  of  the  '6b  is 
described  as  coming  from  the  ground.  We  must, 
therefore,  conclude  that  these  two  were  intimately 
connected  with  each  other.  'Ob  has  the  fern.  pi. 
'6b6th,  whilst  yidd''6ni  has  the  masc.  pi.  yidde'6nim 
— probably  an  indication  of  differentiation  of  sexes, 
one  the  female  and  the  other  the  male.  In  Is  819 
they  are  described  as  they  '  that  chirp  and  that 
mutter '  (RV  ;  better,  '  conjurers  who  whistle  and 
groan '  [cf.  Magical  Papyrus  Paris,  where  the  god 
or  the  conjurer  whistles  and  groans]),  and  are  by 
the  prophet  connected  with  the  dead  (v.19).  In 
both  cases  darash  ('  to  seek')  and  the  alternative 
sha'al  ('  to  inquire')  are  used.  We  find  then  that 
the  '6b  and  yidde'6nt  were  things  made.  In  2  K 
216  and  2  Ch  336,  the  Heb.  rrpjn  (RV  wrongly  '  dealt 
with ')  means  '  and  he  made ' ;  and  Lv  2027  must  not 
be  understood  in  the  sense  that  men  or  women  have 
in  their  body  a  familiar  spirit,  but  that  they  are  the 
possessors  of  an  '6b — evidently  a  material  thing. 
The  translation  of  '6b  as  '  familiar  spirit '  is  con- 
trary to  indications  in  the  Bible.  The  woman  of 
Endor  is  called  distinctly  ba'alath  '6b,  '  the  pos- 
sessor of  an  '6b'  not  '  one  possessed  by  an  '6b.'  She 
must  first  perform  a  certain  ceremony,  she  is  to 
use  enchantment  (kesem)  in  order  to  get  the  '6b  to 
work  (1  S  288  'divine  unto  me'),  and  only  after- 


wards she  asks  Saul  whom  he  wishes  her  to  raise 
from  the  dead. 

Now,  it  is  a  very  remarkable  fact  that  the  '6b 
does  not  occur  in  Genesis,  in  Joshua,  in  Judges,  in 
2  Sam.,  in  1  Kings,  or  in  any  of  the  latter  prophets 
except  Isaiah.  Another  word,  equally  mysterious, 
is  used,  viz.  t'raphim  [note  that  the  word  is  plural, 
and  '6b6th  and  yiddc'6nim  occur  also  mostly  in  the 
plural  form].  The  t'raphim  are  mentioned  in 
Gn  3119-  w,  but  not  in  the  other  four  books  of 
the  Pentateuch  ;  then  they  occur  in  Jg  17°  18i4ff-, 
1  S  1523  191318,  2  K  23M,  Ezk  212I<2«),  Hos  34,  Zee 
10s ;  only  in  one  case  are  they  mentioned  together 
with  the  '6b6th  and  yidd'' 6nim—2  K  23M,  where 
they  are  said  to  have  been  put  away  by  King 
Josiah.  The  t'raphim  also  were  'made,'  e.g.,  by 
Micah  (Jg  17",  where  they  are  differentiated  from 
'  a  molten  image  and  a  graven  image '),  and  they 
are  also  asked  or  inquired  of  (sha'al),  like  '6b  and 
yidd''6ni  (Ezk  21*W);  in  Zee  10s  they  'speak.' 
Laban  is  the  first  to  mention  them,  and  calls  them 
his  gods  (Gn  3130) ;  Rachel  hides  them  (v.M)  in  the 
saddle-bag  (RV  '  camel's  furniture ').  King  Nebu- 
chadnezzar consults  them  (Ezk  2121(26> :  cf.  the  Par- 
thian woman  in  Jos.  Ant.  XVIII.  ix.  5  [344],  who 
conceals  the  images  of  her  gods  which  she  worships 
in  the  house).  All  the  evidence  points  to  a  Western 
Aramaean  origin,  whilst  the  'tSiand  yidd''6rA  point 
much  more  to  Egyptian  origin  ;  Is  193  connects 
them  with  Egypt.  It  is,  therefore,  perhaps  not 
improbable  that  we  have  here  two  different  names 
for  practically  the  same  object  of  divination,  con- 
nected more  or  less  with  the  dead  body,  or,  to  put 
it  more  clearly,  a  mummified  body  worshipped  and 
used  for  divination.  The  story  of  Michal  in  1  S 
19ls' 16  leaves  no  room  for  doubt  that  the  t'raphim, 
so  closely  resembled  life-like  human  bodies  (mum- 
mies, not  wooden  images)  that  the  soldiers  could 
believe  that  David  was  sleeping  in  the  bed.  A 
legend  in  Jer.  Targ.  to  Gn  3119  relates  that  '  they 
used  to  slay  the  firstborn  of  a  man  and  cut  off  his 
head,  salted  it,  and  embalmed  it,  and  wrote  in- 
cantations on  a  plate  of  gold,  which  they  put 
under  his  tongue,  and  stood  it  up  in  the  walls,  and 
it  spake  with  them  ;  and  unto  such  Laban  bowed 
himself '  (see  also  Chapters  of  B.  Eliezer).  Here 
we  have  the  mummified  head,  which  might  be 
called  t'raphim  among  the  Western  Aramaeans, 
and  '6b  and  yidd''6ni  in  S.  Palestine,  according  to 
the  sex  of  the  mummy  used  for  necromancy.  In 
Bab.  Keritot,  36,  we  find  that  the  necromancer 
burnt  incense  to  the  demon,  and  then  questioned 
him.  Rabbinical  tradition  (Sifra,  par.  3,  ch.  vii. ) 
says  of  the  '6b  that  he  is  the  Pithom  (Python)  who 
causes  the  dead  to  speak  through  some  part  of  his 
body,  shehi  (see  also  Sanh.  vii.  7),  and,  further- 
more, that  necromancy  was  performed  by  means 
of  the  skulls  of  dead  men — no  doubt  because  the 
process  of  mummification  had  died  out,  and  mum- 
mies were  not  easily  accessible.  The  same  holds 
good  for  the  necromancy  as  practised  by  other 
peoples,  in  which  the  skull  of  the  dead  plays  a 
prominent  part.  In  this  connexion  the  death  of 
the  firstborn  of  the  Egyptians  would  appear  in  a 
new  light. 

The  idea  of  a  familiar  spirit  is  of  much  later 
date ;  it  was  introduced  at  a  time  when  belief  in 
the  existence  of  evil  spirits  became  deeply  rooted, 
and  when  it  was  supposed  that  it  was  in  the.  power 
of  man  to  conquer  and  subdue  such  spirits  and 
force  them  to  serve  their  master  in  any  office  to 
which  he  might  choose  to  appoint  them. 

Solomon  became  a  legendary  master  of  the  demons,  or  shedlm. 
The  Temple  was  built  by  shedlm  (Giftin,  6Sa)  at  his  command  ; 
and  through  his  seal,  on  which  the  ineffable  name  of  God  was 
engraved,  he  could  command  the  obedience  of  all  the  spirits. 
Here  two  sets  of  thoughts  and  beliefs  have  been  blended,  and 
Solomon's  power  was  made  to  rest  upon  the  knowledge  and 
possession  of  the  ineffable  name  of  God  with  its  tremendous 


812 


DIVINATION  (Jewish) 


efficacy.  The  Apocryphal  Testament  of  Solomon  and  the 
Claviculus  Solomonis  (Solomon's  Key)  teach  how  to  obtain 
mastery  over  shedim.  We  find  the  history  of  a  man  having  a 
shed  at  his  disposal  (Bab.  Hullin,  1056).  Shedim  could  not  be 
conjured  up  on  Sabbath  or  holy  days  (Sheelat  Sheddim,  see  Levy, 
Neuhebrdisches  und  chalddisches  Worterbuch,  1876,  s.v.  '  Shed,' 
iv.  510).  Conversation  with  the  shedim  was  considered  a  great 
art  (Sukkah,  28a,  see  Zunz,  Gottesd.  Vortrage  2,  1S92,  p.  173). 
In  a  Jewish  fairy-tale  a  man  overhears  the  conversation  of 
shedim,  saves  the  king's  daughter,  and  re-opens  a  well  which 
had  been  stopped  by  their  mischievous  powers  (Exempla  no.  29, 
and  Gaster  in  FL  vii.  [1896]  231).  Nachmanides  writes  that 
pious  Jews  in  Aleniannia  held  sftefZim  in  servitude,  who  did  their 
bidding  and  carried  out  orders  (Responsa  of  R.  Sal.  b.  Adrat, 
no.  414) ;  see  also  Manasseh  b.  Israel,  Hish.  Hayyim,  Hi.  ch.  12, 
fol.  1136  fl.). 

Men  who  were  reputed  to  hold  communion  with 
the  dead  were  probably  believed  to  be  able  to 
quicken  the  dead  temporarily  or  permanently. 
The  fact  that  Elijah  (1  K  17nff")  and  Elisha  (2  K 
420ff-)  each  revived  an  apparently  dead  child,  and 
that  the  mere  touch  of  the  bones  of  Elijah  was 
sufficient  to  call  a  man  back  to  life  again  (2  K  1321), 
seems  to  point  in  the  direction  of  such  belief.  But 
the  subject  is  very  obscure,  and  later  tradition 
does  not  help  us  to  elucidate  the  problem.  Real 
necromancy  does  not  seem  to  have  flourished  among 
the  Jews.  So  little  was  this  the  case,  that  none  of 
the  later  authorities  gives  any  further  information 
about  '6b  and  doresh  el-hammethim,  and  about  the 
yidde'6ni  they  tell  us  only  that  the  man  put  into 
his  mouth  a  bone  of  a  certain  animal  called  yaddu'a, 
which  caused  him  to  speak — which  is,  of  course,  a 
mere  guess,  or  probably  a  misinterpretation  of  the 
use  made  of  the  bone  of  the  dead  (men  and  animals) 
for  the  operation  of  divination  (see  fur,  I.e.). 

(6)  Thus  far  we  have  dealt  with  the  various  kinds 
of  divination  of  a  heathen  origin  mentioned  in  the 
Bible,  and  practised  by  Jews  at  an  early  date,  only 
after  they  had  been  stripped  of  their  heathen  garb 
and  adapted  to  the  teaching  of  Judaism.  As  the 
Law,  however,  condemned  certain  modes  of  divina- 
tion, other  means  had  to  be  found  in  full  accordance 
with  the  true  spiritual  teaching  of  Judaism. 
The  whole  world  was  the  creation  of  one  God,  and 
from  Him  alone  the  answer  must  come,  and  to  Him 
men  must  turn  at  critical  moments  of  their  lives. 
The  means  by  which  the  answer  is  to  be  vouchsafed 
is  of  a  threefold  character  :  by  dreams,  or  by  Urim, 
or  by  the  vision  of  the  prophet  (seer).  To  such 
means  did  Saul  resort  (1  S  2S6) ;  and  only  when  he 
found  himself  forsaken  by  those  lawful  means  did 
he  turn  to  the  forbidden  arts  and  go  to  the  woman 
of  Endor,  the  mistress  of  an  '6b. 

{a)  Dreams. — Of  dreams  there  are  abundant 
examples  in  Genesis  and  in  the  historical  books, 
but  none  of  the  same  kind  in  the  other  books  of 
the  Pentateuch.  God  came  to  Abimelech  in  a 
dream  (Gn  203) ;  Jacob  dreamt  of  the  ladder  (2812ff-), 
and  again  in  connexion  with  his  peeled  rods  (31u) ; 
Laban  also  is  warned  in  a  dream  against  attacking 
Jacob  (3124).  The  forecasting  of  future  events 
appears  in  Joseph's  own  symbolical  dreams  (376ff'), 
as  well  as  in  the  dreams  of  the  butler  and  the 
baker  in  Egypt  (406),  and  the  dream  of  Pharaoh 
(ch.  41),  interpreted  by  Joseph  as  a  solution 
granted  by  God.  No  reference  to  such  prophetic 
dreams  occurs  elsewhere  in  the  Pentateuch, 
although  we  have  the  statement  (Nu  126)  that 
God  speaks  to  prophets  in  a  dream.  Quite  different 
is  the  character  of  the  dreamer  of  dreams  (Dt  13lff-), 
rather  a  sinister  personage,  as  in  Jer  2S25'28- 32  279, 
where  diviners,  dreams,  and  soothsayers  are 
mentioned  together  (cf.  also  Zee  102).  The  dream 
of  the  Philistine  is  understood  by  Gideon  as  foretell- 
ing future  success  (Jg  713).  The  Book  of  Daniel  is 
full  of  dreams  and  prophetic  visions  of  the  future, 
which  border  on  the  higher  sphere  of  prophecy,  or 
the  direct  revelation  of  the  future  by  God  through 
His  prophet.  This  lies  outside  the  immediate  scope 
of  divination,  for  the  human  initiative  is  practically 


eliminated ;  the  prophet  now  acts  simply  as  an 
agent  selected  by  God,  for  His  purpose,  to  carry 
His  message  to  the  people.  The  last  time  that 
God  speaks  to  His  chosen  in  a  dream  is  to  Solomon 
at  Gibeon  before  the  building  of  the  Temple 
(1  K  36),  and  immediately  on  its  completion  (93) ; 
no  other  example  after  this  is  mentioned  in  the 
Bible — a  fact  of  deep  significance. 

Apocryphal  and  apocalyptical  literature  is,  however,  full  of 
such  prophetic  dreams.  In  the  Chron.  of  Jefahmeel  alone  no 
fewer  than  eight  or  nine  such  dreams  are  recorded  ;  the  dreams 
of  Methuselah  and  Enoch  (ch.  xxiii.  p.  48,  intr.  lxxi) ;  the 
dream  of  Pharaoh  foretelling  the  birth  of  Moses  (chs.  xlii.-xlviii. 
p.  102,  intr.  lxxxvii.) ;  the  dreams  of  Naphtali  (xxxviii.  3  and 
6) ;  the  dream  of  Kenaz  (lvii.  39,  40) ;  the  dream  of  Mordecai ; 
Ahasuerus'  dream ;  and  the  dream  of  Alexander  the  Great 
(lxxxv.  4ff. ;  found  also  in  Samaritan  literature  [Abulfath\). 
Mention  may  be  made  also  of  dreams  in  the  Test,  of  the  XII 
Patriarchs  (Charles) :  Levi,  Jacob,  Naphtali,  and  Joseph ;  the 
visions  of  Enoch  in  the  Book  of  Enoch  (lxxxiii.-xc.  pp.  220-259 
[Charles]),  and  the  visions  of  Ezra  in  2  Esdras.  Later  Jewish 
literature  abounds  in  prophetic  dreams  sent  to  the  people  to 
warn  them  of  danger,  such  as  that  in  the  legend  of  Bostanai 
the  exilarch  (Seder  'Olam  Zufta). 

The  interpretation  of  dreams  became  a  recognized 
art.  Many  examples  are  found  in  the  Talmud 
of  men  who  received  payment  for  this  function. 
Twenty-four  interpreters  are  said  to  have  practised 
at  the  same  time  in  Jerusalem.  A  certain  Bar 
Hadya  is  mentioned  by  name  as  one  who  shaped 
his  interpretation  according  to  the  amount 
received. 

Such  interpretations  are  found  in  the  Talmud  (Ber.  56a  ff. ; 
En  Yaakob,  par.  110 ;  Jer.  Ma'aser  shini  iv.  6),  the  Exempla  of 
Rabbis  (nos.  215-217),  and  Uaase  Buch,  Amst.,  no.  28,  fol.  76. 
These  form  the  basis  of  the  Hebrew  Oneirokritika  which  are 
iscribed  to  Joseph,  Daniel,  Hai  (ed.  pr.  Ferrara,  1552),  Saadya, 
etc.,  and  published  by  Almuli  in  his  Pitron  Halomoth  (Mefasher 
Helmin,  ed.  pr.  Lisbon  (?)  149- ;  see  Cod.  Gaster,  383,  664,  and 
1087).  Some  of  the  sages  ask  that  the  answer  should  be  given 
in  the  dream  to  their  query,  like  Raba  (Bab.  Menahot,  67a)  and 
R.  Johanan  (ib.  846).  He  who  seeB  an  ill-omened  dream  fasts 
and  recites  a  special  prayer  whilst  the  koh&nim  pronounce  the 
priestly  blessing  during  the  service  (Bab.  Ber.  556).  A  curious 
collection  of  '  responses  from  Heaven '  exists  in  Jewish  literature, 
dating  probably  from  the  12th  or  13th  century. 

(b)  Urim  and  Thummim  was  another  means  of 
divining  the  future,  explaining  the  past,  declaring 
guilt  and  innocence,  dividing  land,  and  deciding 
the  issues  of  war  and  peace.  In  accordance  with 
the  system  pursued  of  concentrating  every  possible 
sacred  or  sacrificial  action  in  the  hands  of  very 
few,  and  thus  of  weaning  the  common  people 
from  such  practices,  the  divination  by  means  of 
the  Urim  and  Thummim  was  reserved  for  the  high 
priest.  Only  he,  in  his  priestly  robes  and  wearing 
the  breast-plate  called  '  the  breast-plate  of 
judgment'  (decision)  (Ex  2830),  could  use  the  Urim 
for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  an  answer  from 
God  to  his  question.  We  cannot  here  enter  fully 
upon  the  discussion  as  to  what  the  Urim  and 
Thummim  may  have  been.  These  words  occur 
altogether  seven  times  in  the  whole  Bible  ;  and  in 
two  of  these,  Ezra  and  Nehemiah,  as  a  remem- 
brance of  old  (Ezr  263,  Neh  7ffi).  To  the  other  five 
passages  we  must  add  two  in  which  the  practice 
is  implicitly  referred  to  (Jg  l1  and  201S,  where  the 
children  of  Israel  went  up  to  Bethel  to  inquire  of 
the  Lord,  i.e.  through  the  priest,  who  only  could 
obtain  the  answer  by  the  Urim  and  Thummim). 
The  ephod  consulted  by  David  in  K'eilah  (1  S  239ff-) 
was  worn  by  the  priest  Abiathar.  Evidently  the 
reference  is  to  the  Urim  and  Thummim  within  the 
ephod,  and  similarly  in  1  S  307ff- ;  and  probably 
the  ephod  in  Hos  34  also  means  the  oracle  of  the 
Urim  and  Thummim.  In  1  S  286  we  are  told  that 
Saul  had  inquired  of  the  Lord  '  by  the  Urim,'  and 
only  because  he  got  no  answer  he  went  to  the 
woman  of  Endor.  In  1  S  1418  Saul  says  to  Ahijah, 
'  Bring  hither  the  ark '  (LXX,  '  the  ephod '),  and 
in  v.41,  when  the  guilty  party  is  to  be  discovered, 
he  says  hdbah  tamim,  which  must  be  read  hdbah 
tummim,  i.e.  Urim  and  Thummim  ;  and  then  they 
cast  lots,  and  Saul  and  Jonathan  are  first  taken, 


DIVINATION  (Jewish) 


81S 


and  afterwards  Jonathan  alone.  This  reminds  us 
of  the  identical  process  in  the  case  of  Achan 
(Jos  714ff-)-  Rabbinical  writers  identify  the  Urira 
and  Thummim  with  the  twelve  stones  of  the 
breastplate,  and  explain  these  names  as  '  lighted 
up'  and  '  dark,'  stating  that  the  stones  lit  up  or  a 
light  shone  in  them  (according  to  some  the  letters 
stood  out  lighted  up)  in  the  case  of  a  favourable 
answer,  and  that  they  remained  dark  at  an  un- 
favourable one.  After  the  establishment  of  the 
sanctuary  in  Jerusalem  by  David,  no  further 
mention  is  made  of  this  kind  of  divination  by  lots 
and  by  means  of  the  Urim.  That  event  was  the 
turning-point  in  the  whole  history  of  Jewish 
worship  and  in  the  practice  of  divination. 

Special  mysterious  powers  were  ascribed  to  the  stones  of  the 
breast-plate,  and  from  Epiphanius  onwards  the  literature  of 
Lapidaria,  or  '  stone  books,'  has  grown  continuously.  Hebrew 
literature  shows  a  variety  of  such  Lapidaria  (Kofrot  haa- 
banim).  A  number  of  unedited  texts  have  been  collected  by  the 
present  writer  in  his  Cod.  377,  besides  other  MSS  (Cod.  Gaster, 
337,  714  ;  de  Vidas,  loc.  cit.  fol.  9a). 

After  the  disappearance  of  the  Urim  and 
Thummim  another  inspired  oracle  took  its  place — 
the  Bible  oracle  (the  oral  recitation  of  Biblical 
verses).  Infants  were  asked  to  tell  a  verse  to  a 
man  who  met  them  quite  unexpectedly,  and  from 
the  verse  which  the  child  repeated  innocently  the 
questioner  drew  his  own  conclusions,  for  he  saw 
in  it  the  oracular  answer  to  his  query.  We  may 
look  upon  the  passages  referred  to  above  under 
'M'nahesh'  (Gn2418\  Jg  7",  1  S  148"12,  and  1  K2033) 
as  the  oldest  examples  of  divination  from  the  open- 
ing words  of  the  enemy  or  interlocutor.  This  is 
the  origin  of  the  Bible  oracle  (stichomancy)  by 
means  of  a  written  and  later  on  a  printed  book. 
It  consists  in  opening  the  book  and  looking  at  the 
first  verse  that  meets  the  eye  as  a  means  of  divina- 
tion, or  in  putting  in  a  pointer,  and  the  passage 
where  the  pointer  rests  is  taken  as  full  of  signifi- 
cance and  prognostication.  Samuel  used  to  inquire 
through  '  the  Book '  (Bab.  Hullin,  956  ;  cf.  the 
sortes  Vergiliance).  The  Bible  oracle  leads  to  that 
of  the  Shimmusha  Rabba  (or  that  of  selected  por- 
tions of  the  Bible)  known  in  the  8th  or  9th  century. 
In  the  Shimmush  T'hilUm  the  Book  of  Psalms  is 
used  as  a  means  of  divination  (Cod.  Gaster,  1094e, 
and  often  printed  with  Book  of  Psalms  ;  best  ed. 
by  W.  Heidenheim). 

At  an  indeterminate  period  in  post-Biblical 
times  a  large  number  of  magical  ceremonies  and 
practices  of  divination  flowed  into  the  stream  of 
Jewish  tradition,  and  it  is  often  difficult  to  trace 
each  of  these  elements  to  its  proper  source.  All 
that  was  done  was  to  copy  and  to  borrow  such 
material,  and  so  change  and  mould  it  as  to  make 
it  compatible  with  the  special  teaching  of  Judaism, 
though  the  line  of  demarcation  between,  e.g.,  Jews 
and  Muhammadans  in  these  practices  is  so  faint 
as  to  be  often  indistinguishable.  Nowhere  does 
this  borrowing  show  itself  more  clearly  than  in  the 
books  for  telling  future  events,  or  fortune-telling 
books  (Si/rd  Goralot  [Amsterdam,  1700),  Urim 
Vethummin  [Dyrrenfurth,  1700],  ascribed  alter- 
nately to  Hai-Saadya,  Aben  Ezra,  Pokeah,  Tbrim 
[Venice,  1657] ;  Cod.  Gaster,  61,  213,  439 ;  Aben 
Ezra,  35,  112,  465,  470,  471,  592,  594,  702 ;  Saadya, 
602,  679,  782,  1017,  1060,  1090).  A  thorough  in- 
vestigation of  the  origin  and  filiation  of  these 
books  and  their  interdependence  is_still  lacking 
(Steinschneider,  Die  hebrdischen  Ubersetzungen 
des  Mittelalters,  §  533,  pp.  867-71). 

The  hand  and  the  face  of  man  were  also  used  for 
the  purpose  of  divination.  The  Zohar  (Exodus) 
already  contained  almost  a  complete  treatise  on 
physiognomies  (hoehmath  ha-parsuf),  and  the 
Hebrew  version  of  the  Secretum  ascribed  to  Aris- 
totle (ed.  Gaster  [contains  in  bk.  xi.  a  treatise  on 
physiognomy])  continued  to  spread  and  to  fortify 


the  belief  in  physiognomies  among  the  Jews. 
Cheiromancy  (Hochmath  ha-ydd,  last  ed.,  Warsaw, 
1902)  is  found  in  many  manuscripts  and  prints, 
and  also  in  translations  in  the  Hebrew-German 
(Cod.  Gaster,  443,  fol.  906  f.). 

(c)  Rd'eh,  or  seer. — The  last  form  of  divination 
to  which  Saul  resorted  was  through  the  nabi' ,  the 
prophet,  or  rather  the  rd'eh,  the  seer,  '  for  he  that 
is  now  called  a  prophet  was  beforetime  called  a 
seer'  (1  S  99).  He  was  expected  to  answer  not 
only  important  questions  affecting  the  safety  of 
the  king  or  nation,  but  also  trivial  inquiries  about 
lost  property,  e.g.  the  asses  of  Kish  (1  S  920ff-).  The 
seer  was  then  acting  as  the  Hebrew  counterpart  of 
the  heathen  kdsem  (like  Balaam,  etc.),  who  also 
claimed  to  '  see  '  and  to  be  a  '  seer '  (Nu  24*1- 16). 
Samuel  is  consistently  called  the  seer  and  not  the 
prophet  in  1  Ch  9-  26-8  2928  ;  and  other  personages 
belonging  to  the  period  before  the  building  of  the 
Temple  appear  under  the  same  names  of  rd  'eh  and 
hdzeh,  which  alternate  with  one  another  and  are 
both  distinguished  from  nabi'.  The  latter  was,  no 
doubt,  considered  as  yet  inferior  to  them  ;  for  we 
find  the  '  company  of  prophets  '(IS  106- 10-  n),  Saul 
turned  prophet  ( 1013),  and  '  the  sons  of  the  prophets ' 
(1  K  2035,  2  K  23  etc. )  all  playing  an  inferior  role  to 
that  of  the  rd'eh.  Similarly  the  nabi'  in  the  Penta- 
teuch seems  inferior  to  the  nabi '  of  the  time  of  the 
kings.  He  is  more  akin  to  a  diviner.  Abraham 
is  called  a  nabi'  (Gn  20'),  although  he  does  not 
prophesy,  but  knows  of  Abimelech's  dream.  Aaron 
is  appointed  nabi'  to  Moses  (Ex  71),  certainly  not 
as  superior  to  him ;  seventy  elders  prophesy  (Nu 
ll26'-),  and  Eldad  and  Medad  do  so  in  the  camp, 
like  the  bands  of  prophets  and  Saul  mentioned 
above.  In  Nu  126  God  speaks  to  the  nabi'  in  a 
dream.  In  Dt  131-  B  18™  the  nabi'  is  placed  on  the 
same  footing  as  the  dreamer  of  dreams  (see  above). 
The  nabi'  of  Dt  1816  must  therefore  be  taken  in 
the  same  sense  as  the  nabi'  in  all  the  other  passages 
in  the  Pent.,  and  loses  the  special  significance 
attached  to  the  name.  It  is  noteworthy  that 
Moses  is  called  nabi'  only  after  his  death  (Dt  3410). 
Saul  resorted  to  a  nabi'  for  the  purpose  of  learning 
what  the  future  had  in  store  for  him  ( 1  S  286),  and 
therefore  one  is  justified  in  including  this  nabi' 
among  the  diviners,  like  the  hdzeh  and  rd'eh — the 
Jewish  equivalent  of  the  heathen  kdsem.  But  from 
the  time  of  David  onwards  a  change  took  place  in 
the  value  attached  to  the  name.  The  nabi  was  no 
longer  a  man  who  could  take  any  initiative,  or 
answer  questions  put  to  him,  but  an  inspired  agent 
of  God,  selected  by  Him  to  send  His  messages  to 
rulers  and  peoples. 

With  the  prophets  of  the  Second  Temple  pro- 
phecy had  come  to  an  end.  Instead  of  it  there 
was  the  Bath  $61,  i.e.  the  second  voice,  a  kind  of 
Divine  echo  heard  within  the  precincts  of  the 
Temple  or  in  answer  to  queries  put  to  Heaven 
by  the  Rabbis  (Bab.  Yoma,  96;  Sanh.  lias;  Jer. 
Ber.  36). 

The  final  stage  of  divination  was  by  the  use  of 
the  mysterious  and  ineffable  Divine  Name.  This 
was  a  dangerous  mode  of  divination  ;  of  the  four 
great  men  who  attempted  to  penetrate  the  Divine 
mysteries  (Hag.  146),  only  one,  Aqiba,  escaped 
unhurt.  Practical  Qabbala  is  the  final  outcome 
of  this  mystical  development,  which  has  almost 
entirely  driven  out  all  the  older  forms  of  divina- 
tion. From  the  time  of  the  Essenes  (2nd  cent.) 
downwards  magic  and  divination  centre  in  the 
mystical  names  of  God,  angels,  etc.  Magical 
papyri  abound,  containing  directions  how  to  divine 
theft,  or  how  to  obtain  a  dream  which  would  fore- 
tell the  future.  The  most  ancient  book  of  this 
kind  is  the  famous  '  Sword  of  Moses  '  (ed.  Gaster, 
London,  1896),  a  complete  manual  of  such  opera- 
tions. Some  of  the  formulae  and  practices  contained 


814 


DIVINATION  (Litu-Slavic) 


therein  have  survived  to  the  present  day.  Many 
a  man  in  mediaeval  times  was  credited  with  insight 
into  the  future  through  the  knowledge  of  this 
ineffable  name. 

The  last  stage  in  the  development  of  the  art  of 
divination  was  reached  when  the  place  held  in 
ancient  times  by  the  k6sem  or  m'naliesh,  then  by 
the  rd'eh  and  nabi',  then  by  the  scholar  and  sage, 
was  finally  taken  by  the  ba'al  shem,  the  possessor 
of  the  ineffable  wonder-working  name  of  God.  He 
is  the  exact  counterpart  of  the  ba'alath  '6b,  the 
female  possessor  of  the  '6b  (woman  of  Endor).  He 
also  could  conjure  the  dead,  foretell  the  future, 
and  perform  every  possible  miraculous  deed.  The 
legend  of  the  ba'al  shem  told  in  Ma'ase  Nissim 
(see  Tendlau,  Sagen4,  no.  52,  p.  25  ff.)  makes  him 
raise  out  of  a  cup  Joab  b.  Zeruiah  (King  David's 
general).  Practically  the  last  link  in  this  chain  is 
the  famous  ba'al  shem  (known  as  Besht  [Ba'al 
Shem  Tob]),  the  founder  of  the  sect  of  the  flasidim 
at  the  beginning  of  the  18th  cent.,  whose  successors 
are  the  reputed  wonder-working  Rabbis  of  the 
Hasidim  in  Galicia  and  Eastern  Europe. 

But  all  these  modes  of  divination  have  gradually 
disappeared.  Only  the  Qabbalistic  formulos  are 
from  time  to  time  resorted  to  and  practised  in 
addition  to  those  borrowed  from  other  nations  ; 
for  in  modern  times,  and  especially  in  Eastern 
countries,  the  Jews  follow  the  superstitions  of  the 
native  population,  and  practise  the  same  modes  of 
divination  for  such  lower  purposes  as  to  detect  a 
thief,  or  to  find  out  whether  a  woman  will  marry 
in  the  course  of  the  year,  whether  her  child  will  be 
a  boy  or  girl,  whether  or  not  an  undertaking  will 
be  successful.  But  there  is  nothing  specifically 
Jewish  about  them. 

Literature. — As  the  writer  of  this  article  differs  fundamen- 
tally in  the  interpretation  of  the  Biblical  terms  on  divination 
from  all  other  scholars,  he  does  not  refer  to  any  other  article  on 
this  subject,  or  to  any  of  the  special  books  hitherto  written  on 
divination  in  the  Bible.  In  addition  to  the  references  given  in 
the  text  of  the  article  itself,  the  following  bibliography  will  serve 
the  purpose  of  directing  Btudents  to  a  vast  field  of  hitherto 
scarcely  explored  literature.  One  name  stands  out  promi- 
nently, that,  of  M.  Steinschneider,  and  his  great  work,  Die 
hebrdischen  ifbersetzungen  des  Mittelalters,  Berlin,  1893  (notably 
{  539,  p.  893  f.  ;  §  641,  p.  905  ;  f  522,  p.  849  ;  §  533,  pp.  867-71  ; 
§  675,  p.  963  f .  ;  and  §  634,  p.  871),  contains  the  most  reliable 
data  on  many  of  the  subjects  of  the  later  period  of  Jewish  litera- 
ture, when  it  stood  under  the  influence  of  Greek,  Arabic,  and 
medieval  Latin  literature.  Still  even  he  left  room  for  additional 
information.  Some  of  it,  especially  MSS  material,  may  be  found 
in  the  bibliography  to  artt.  Birth  (Jewish)  and  Charms  and 
Amulets  (Jewish),  in  which  very  much  matter  referring  to 
divination  may  be  found.  A  few  more  books  may  be  now  men- 
tioned here  :  M.  A.  Delrio,  Disquisiti&num  magicarum  libri 
sex,  ed.  Cologne,  1720,  iii.  p.  11  q.  iv.  s.  6,  pp.  473,  478-480 ; 
Manasseh  ben  Israel,  Nishmath  Eayyim,  ed.  Amsterdam, 
1652,  bk.  iii.  chs.  4-29,  fol.  101  f. ;  Ivl.  Gudemann,  Gesch.  des 
Erziehungswesen  und  der  Cultur  der  Juden,  Vienna,  1880,  vol.  i. 
p.  201,  no.  2 ;  M.  Gaster,  Literalura  Popularis  Rumana, 
Bucharest,  1883,  pp.  324,  506  f.,  617,  617a,  531,  532a;  K.  Krum- 
bacher,  Geschichte  der  byzantinUchen  IAteratur  2,  Munich,  1897, 
pp.  627-631  and  passim ;  H.  Diels,  Beitrdge  zur  Zuekungs- 
literatur,  Berlin,  1908 ;  Jacob  Racah,  Eishurim  le  Yaakob, 
Leghorn,  I860,  foL  24a-26d.  ftl.  GASTEE. 

DIVINATION  (Litu-Slavic).— A  synopsis  of 
the  various  means  employed  by  the  Prussians  and 
Lithuanians  to  divine  the  future  is  given  in  the 
art.  Aryan  Religion,  vol.  ii.  p.  54  f.  As  grounds 
of  their  predictions  they  had — or  still  have — 
recourse  to  the  flight  and  cries  of  birds ;  appear- 
ances in  the  sky  and  other  natural  phenomena ; 
sacrifices,  entrails,  and  blood ;  chance  meetings, 
the  rustling  of  the  oak,  fire  and  smoke,  dreams ; 
various  happenings  and  utterances  at  weddings ; 
wax,  lead,  glass,  the  foam  of  beer,  amulets,  sieve- 
turning,  plants,  and  innumerable  other  things. 
One  of  the  most  ancient  and  widely-used  accessaries 
of  divination  was  blood,  both  of  man  and  beast. 
When  the  Grand-duke  Keistut  of  Lithuania  was 
overthrown  and  taken  prisoner  by  King  Ludwig  of 
Hungary  in  1351,  he  made  a  treaty  with  the  victor, 


pledging  himself  to  embrace  Christianity  and  desist 
from  further  troubling.  This  treaty  was  ratified 
by  a  rather  curious  Lithuanian  oath,  the  prelimi- 
nary to  which  was  a  blood-oracle  : 

'  Et  facta  est  haec  promissio  per  regem  cum  tali  iuramento  : 
accepit  enim  bovem  et  in  praesentia  regis  Ungariae  et  suorum 
fecit  bovi  duas  venas  incidi  in  collo,  et,  si  sanguis  ferventer 
exiret,  bonum  esse  indicium  futurorum  ;  et  largiter  fuit  sanguis 
effusus.  Tunc  rex  Litowiae  bovem  fecit  decollari  et  inter  bovis 
caput  et  corpus  progrediens  iuravit,  sic  sibi  contingi,  si  promissa 
non  servaret '  (Scriptores  Rer.  Pruss.  iii.  420). 

But  human  blood  likewise  might  be  used  for 
purposes  of  prophecy.  Thus,  in  1325-26,  when  the 
Grand-duke  Gedimin  sent  twelve  hundred  horsemen 
to  the  assistance  of  King  Lokietek  in  his  struggle 
with  the  margrave  of  Brandenburg, 
'  prepositum  de  Bernow,  hominem  corpore  grossum  et  pinguem 
vinciunt,  caput  inter  crura  detorquentes,  dorsum  eius  gladiis 
aperiunt,  profluvium  sanguinis  attendunt,  de  exitu  belli  per 
ipsum  divinare  cupientes ' ;  and  it  is  also  recorded  that  in  the 
same  campaign  '  quibusdam  guttura  preciderunt  et  divinationes 
suas  exercuerunt  *  (cf .  A.  v.  Mierzyn'ski, '  Der  Eid  des  Keistutis,' 
Sitzungsber.  d.  Altertumsgesellsch.  Pruss.,  no.  18,  Konigsberg 
1893,  p.  104). 

Such  incidents  show  that  as  late  as  the  14th 
cent,  of  our  era  the  Lithuanians,  like  the  pro- 
phetesses of  the  Cimri  (cf.  ERE  ii.  54b),  were  in 
the  habit  of  killing  their  prisoners  of  war  in  order 
to  ascertain  by  an  inspection  of  their  blood  whether 
the  approaching  battle  would  result  in  victory  or 
defeat. 

Leaving  the  Baltic  peoples,  we  proceed  to  speak 
of  the  Slavs,  and,  more  particularly,  of  the  Russians. 
Here,  in  the  16th  and  17th  centuries — a  period 
from  which  several  continuous  records  survive1 — 
we  find  an  almost  incredible  development  of  the 
belief  in  omens  (primitU)  and  the  practice  of 
fortune-telling  (gaaanie).  It  is  scarcely  too  much 
to  say  that  among  the  Russians  of  that  age  the 
individual's  course  of  life  was  entirely  conditioned 
by  premonitions.  Books  of  magic  and  collections 
of  warnings  and  predictions,  though  banned  by 
the  clergy,  were  passed  from  hand  to  hand.  A 
creaking  in  the  wall  or  a  singing  in  the  ears 
foretold  a  journey.  An  itching  in  the  palm 
signified  a  gift  of  money.  Itching  eyes  betokened 
weeping.  The  croaking  of  ravens  or  the  crowing 
of  cocks  was  an  omen  of  misfortune.  The  cackling 
of  ducks  or  geese,  twitching  of  the  eyelids,  the 
crackling  of  the  fire,  the  howl  of  a  dog,  the  squeak- 
ing of  mice  or  their  nibbling  of  clothes,  a  cat 
appearing  at  the  window  with  a  captured  mouse, 
a  terrifying  dream,  meeting  with  a  blind  person — 
all  these  foreboded  loss  by  fire.  In  a  MS  in  the 
Rumjanzov  Museum  we  read  : 

'  When  the  shores  heave,  and  the  sea  rages,  when  dry  or  moist 
winds  blow,  when  rain-,  snow-,  or  storm-clouds  appear,  when 
thunder  rolls,  the  storm  howls,  the  forest  rustles,  the  trunks  of 
trees  grate  on  one  another,  wolves  howl,  or  squirrels  leap — then 
will  ensue  plague,  or  war,  or  scarcity  of  water ;  in  summer 
fruits  will  grow  nowhere,  or  they  will  disappear.' 

The  people  believed  in  dreams,  and  framed  an 
elaborate  system  of  reading  their  significance. 
They  saw  portents  in  the  act  of  sneezing,  in  the 
crawling  movements  of  insects,  in  every  sort  of 
object  they  came  across.  It  was  thought  unlucky 
to  meet  with  a  monk,  a  horse  with  hair  worn  off, 
or  a  pig.  As  early  as  the  12th  cent,  we  find  St. 
Theodosius  censuring  those  who  allowed  such 
occurrences  to  scare  them  home  again.  Native 
and  foreign  superstitions  were  inextricably  blended. 
The  people  had  also  complete  written  systems  of 
prophecy,  called  rafli — a  term  of  Arabic  origin  ( '  lib- 
ellus  astronomicus  seu  mathematicus  Persarum' 
[Ducange];  Arab.raml,  'geomancy');  the Domostroj 
(cf.  ERE  iii.  465,  note  1),  §  23,  warns  against  their 
use.  Mention  should  also  be  made  here  of  the 
so-called  '  birth-magic '  which  the  sorcerer,  at  the 
mother's  request,  performed  over  the  newly-born 
child,  and  by  means  of  which  he  ascertained  or 

1  Cf.  for  what  immediately  follows,  Kostomarov,  '  Sketch  of 
the  Domestic  Life  and  Customs  of  the  Great  Russians  in  the 
16th  and  17th  Centuries,'  in  Sovremennik,  vol.  lxxxiii.  (Rubs.). 


DIVINATION  (Litu-Slavic) 


816 


determined  its  lot  in  life.  It  is,  therefore,  no 
exaggeration  to  say  that  the  Russians  of  that  day 
lived  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  in  an  atmosphere 
of  constant  dread  and  solicitude  regarding  the 
future ;  and  the  beneficent  and  emancipating 
results  of  culture  and  enlightenment  are  never 
more  profoundly  felt  than  when  contrasted  with  a 
human  existence  thus  harrowed  by  omens  and 
superstitious  terrors  from  morning  till  night  (cf. 
ERE  ii.  55»). 

Even  at  the  present  day,  however,  among  the 
Russian  peasantry,  the  belief  in  omens  and  predic- 
tions still  prevails  to  an  extent  without  parallel 
among  any  other  European  people.  The  manifold 
superstitions  of  an  aged  Russian  peasant  woman 
are  thus  set  forth  in  Turgenev's  romance,  Fathers 
and  Sons  (ch.  20,  at  the  end) : 

'  She  was  pious  and  impressionable  to  a  degree  ;  she  believed 
in  all  kinds  of  omens,  predictions,  spells,  dreams  ;  she  believed 
in  lunatics  [see  below],  in  household  spirits,  forest  spirits,  un- 
lucky forgathering,  enchantment,  popular  remedies,  Maundy 
Thursday  salt  [the  salt  sprinkled  on  Maundy  Thursday  bread 
ranks  as  a  powerful  specific] ;  she  believed  that  the  end  of 
the  world  was  at  hand,  that  the  buckwheat  prospers  if  the 
candles  are  not  extinguished  at  the  evening  service  on  Easter 
Sunday,  and  that  mushrooms  cease  growing  when  they  have 
been  seen  by  a  human  eye,'  etc. 

In  the  present  article  we  do  not  propose  to  deal 
further  with  this  mass  of  detail,  but  will  restrict 
ourselves  to  a  somewhat  fuller  consideration  of 
two  particular  points :  (1)  peasant  weather- lore, 
which,  amid  a  chaos  of  absurdity,  nevertheless 
contains  a  certain  measure  of  rationality,  based 
upon  experience  and  the  observation  of  Nature ; 
and  (2)  the  interval  between  Christmas  and 
Epiphany — a  period  during  which,  even  in  the 
Russia  of  to-day,  all  conceivable  forms  of  augury 
and  prophecy  are  still  in  full  swing. 

(1)  The  first  of  these  topics,  peasant  weather- 
lore,  has  been  dealt  with  by  A.  Ermolov  in  two 
volumes  of  his  comprehensive  work,  Agricultural 
Folk-wisdom  in  Proverbs,  Sayings,  and  Weather- 
saws  :  i.  '  Der  landwirtschaftliche  Volkskalender,' 
Leipzig,  1905,  and  iv.  '  Popular  Weather-lore ' 
(Russ.),  St.  Petersburg,  1905.  It  is  shown  in  these 
works  that,  while  all  European  peoples  have  a 
vast  store  of  weather-wisdom,  sometimes  exhibit- 
ing remarkable  affinities  and  parallels,  yet  the 
inhabitants  of  Eastern  Europe  surpass  all  others 
in  this  regard.  In  that  region  there  is  no  animal 
so  diminutive,  no  herb  so  insignificant,  but  its 
doings  or  properties  may  supply  omens  of  future 
events,  of  weather  that  wDl  be  favourable  or  un- 
favourable to  the  husbandman ;  while,  again, 
there  is  no  natural  phenomenon,  occurring  at  some 
particular  time,  but  may  act  as  the  harbinger  of  a 
good  or  a  bad  harvest.  In  Kasan,  the  Chuvashes 
(a  Finnish,  now  Finno-Russian,  tribe)  are  said  to 
be  looked  upon  as  oracles. 

'  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  they  scarcely  ever  go  astray  in  their 
predictions.  By  long-continued  observation  they  have  become 
sensitive  to  signs  which  enable  them  almost  unerringly  to  fore- 
cast the  weather.'  'Their  memories  are  stored  with  a  mass  of 
all  but  infallible  maxims  inherited  from  the  past.' 

(2)  The  period  between  Christmas  and  the  Feast 
of  Epiphany  is  known  in  Russia  as  svjatki  (from 
svjatii,  '  holy '),  or  koljada  (from  Lat.  calendce), 
the  latter  term  being  also  applied  to  the  practice 
of  going  about  from  house  to  house  at  Christmas 
and  on  New  Year's  morning.  During  the  Christ- 
mas week  the  practice  of  prognostication,  which  is 
applied  in  the  main  to  affairs  of  love  and  marriage, 
and  partly  also  to  forecasting  the  weather  and  the 
harvest,  attains  its  highest  vogue  (cf.  Russian 
Folk-poetry  [Russ.],  Glasunov  ed. ,  St.  Petersburg, 
1904,  p.  86  ;  Stepanov,  Popular  Festivals  in  Holy 
Russia  [Russ.],  St.  Petersburg,  1899,  p.  149).  When 
young  men  or  young  women  wish  to  know  some- 
thing of  their  future  partners  in  life,  they  have 
recourse  to  the  horse-oracle.  The  young  women, 
for  example,  take  out  a  horse,  and  walk  it  over  a 


beam  :  if  it  stumbles,  the  husband  of  the  person 
consulting  the  oracle  will  be  a  good  man ;  if  it 
steps  clear,  he  will  be  bad.1  Divining  the  future 
by  means  of  a  splinter  of  wood  is  also  concerned 
with  marriage.  When  the  splinter  has  been  partly 
dipped  in  water,  it  is  set  fire  to  at  the  dry  end ; 
then  the  shorter  or  longer  interval  before  the  flame 
expires  foretells  respectively  a  happy  or  unhappy 
marriage. 2 

The  period  between  Christmas  and  Epiphany 
was,  as  already  indicated,  a  special  time  for 
weather-prophecy,  as  witness  the  following  extract 
from  Ermolov,  op.  cit.  i.  518  f.  : 

'In  Little  Russia,  before  the  supper  on  Christmas  eve,  the 
oldest  of  the  household  brings  a  bundle  of  hay  into  the  cottage, 
spreads  it  upon  the  bench  in  the  front  corner,  covers  it  with 
a  clean  tablecloth,  and  then  places  above  this,  and  just  be- 
neath the  bracket  for  the  saint's  image,  an  unthreshed  sheaf 
of  rye  or  wheat.  During  supper  those  present  engage  in  read- 
ing the  signs  which  indicate  the  character  of  the  ensuing 
harvest.  For  this  purpose  they  draw  hay-stems  from  under 
the  tablecloth,  and  from  the  length  of  these  form  an  estimate  as 
to  the  growth  of  the  corn.  They  likewise  pull  stalks  of  straw 
out  of  the  sheaf  under  the  ikon  ;  if  the  stalk  bears  a  full  ear, 
they  may  look  forward  to  a  good  harvest ;  while,  if  the  ear  is 
shrivelled,  the  crops  will  be  a  failure.  When  the  supper  is  over, 
and  the  housewife  has  cleared  the  table,  the  reading  of  omens 
is  renewed,  these  being  now  found  in  the  seeds  dropped  from 
various  plants  among  the  hay.  If  most  of  the  seeds  are  black, 
the  buckwheat  will  turn  out  well ;  while,  if  white  or  red  seeds 
predominate,  oats,  millet,  and  wheat  may  be  expected  in 
abundance.  At  the  killing  of  the  pig  before  the  Christmas 
festivities,  the  peasants  in  Little  Russia  inspect  the  pancreas. 
If  it  is  large,  thick,  and  of  equal  breadth  throughout  its  whole 
length,  the  winter  will  not  be  a  long  one,  and  there  will  be  no 
severe  frosts  ;  but,  if  the  gland  be  of  irregular  shape— thick  at 
the  head  end  and  thin  at  the  other,  or  inversely — the  winter 
will  be  cold  at  the  beginning  and  warm  towards  the  close,  or 
vice  versa.  If  the  pancreas  be  thin  about  the  middle,  the 
peasants  expect  a  thaw  in  mid-winter. ' 

This  custom  recalls  the  Roman  Saturnalia  and 
haruspication  ;  and  it  is  also  said  that  the  Russians 
have  a  parallel  to  the  signa  ex  tripudiis,  i.e. 
divination  by  the  eating  and  drinking  of  fowls  (cf. 
the  '  Roman '  section  of  this  article).  It  may  be 
said  without  misgiving,  indeed,  that  analogies  of 
the  Roman  auguries  and  their  underlying  supersti- 
tions are  nowhere  found  more  abundantly  than  in 
the  east  of  Europe.  It  should  be  observed,  how- 
ever, that  the  peasantry  are  quite  well  aware  that 
during  the  svjatki  they  have  still  one  foot  in 
paganism,  for,  as  they  say,  '  the  beginning  [of  the 
season]  also  ushers  in  the  revelries  of  the  Evil  One 
and  the  witches,  who  steal  the  moon  and  the  stars 
from  the  sky,  keep  holiday,  and  disport  with  the 
demons.' 

While,  nowadays,  as  the  foregoing  bears  out, 
the  Russian  people — men  and  women  alike — are 
all  highly  proficient  in  primUy  and  gadania,  these 
arts  were  formerly  to  a  great  extent  in  the  hands 
of  wizards  and  sorcerers,  the  various  names  applied 
to  whom  are  enumerated  and  explained  in  the  art. 
Charms  and  Amulets  (Slavic),  vol.  iii.  p.  465a. 
Besides  these  adepts,  however,  there  are  other  two 
classes  of  persons  to  whom  is  attributed  a  special 
measure  of  supernatural  and  prophetic  power,  viz. 
women  and  lunatics. 

The  belief  that  the  faculty  of  seeing  into  the 
future  belongs  in  an  eminent  degree  to  women  can 
be  traced  everywhere  in  ancient  Europe,  and,  as 
existent  among  the  Germans,  finds  its  clearest 
expression  in  Tac.  Germ.  8  : 

'  Inesse  quin  etiam  sanctum  aliquid  et  providum  putant,  nee 
aut  consilia  earum  aspernantur  aut  responsa  negligunt ' ;  cf. 
also  Hist.  iv.  61 :  '  vetere  apud  Germanos  more,  quo  plerasque 
feminarum  fatidicas  et  augescente  superstitione  arbitrantur 
deas'  (further  particulars  in  K.  Miillenhoff,  Deutsche  Alter- 
tumskunde,  Berlin,  1870-1900,  iv.  208  fl.). 

As  regards  the  basis  of  fact  which  underlies  the 
real  or  imaginary  prophetic  gift  thus  ascribed  to 
women,  and  exalting  them  in  the  people's  eyes  to 

1  For  the  horse-oracle  among  the  Indo-Germanic  peoples,  cf. 
ERE  ii.  55. 

2  On  this  topic,  cf.  the  present  writer's  remarks  on  the  Indo- 
Germanic  marriage  in  Die  Indo-Germanen,  Leipzig,  1911, 
p.  87  f. 


816 


DIVINATION  (Muslim) 


the  position  of  Haliurunnas  (Goth.  [Jordanes,  Get. 
xxiv.]),  '  those  who  know  the  secrets  of  hell,  or  of 
the  under  world,'  we  shall  hardly  err  in  tracing  this 
element  to  the  nervous  and  hysterical  nature  of 
woman,  which,  in  moments  of  excitement,  seems 
to  raise  her  above  earthly  conditions.  It  was  in 
the  state  of  ecstasy  likewise  that  the  Greek  Pythia 
uttered  her  oracles.  This  was  also  the  case  in  the 
remarkable  outbreak  of  the  Russian  klik'uSi  (from 
klikati,  'to  shriek'),  the  'possessed'  or  'epileptic,' 
who  greatly  disturbed  the  country  in  the  16th 
cent.,  and  had  to  be  dealt  with  by  the  Church 
Council  of  Moscow  (stoglavny  soboril)  in  1551. 
They  were  principally  elderly  unmarried  women — 
and  thus  specially  liable  to  hysteria;  they  ran 
about  barefoot  and  unkempt ;  they  shook,  they 
fell,  they  whirled,  they  writhed,  and  amid  such 
doings  uttered  their  predictions  of  the  future. 
Frequently — and  sometimes  as  a  result  of  bribery 
— they  brought  criminal  charges  against  indi- 
viduals, who  were  thus  rendered  liable  to  legal 
proceedings.  The  presence  of  these  women  in  a 
city  was  a  veritable  plague,  and  the  Church  Council 
referred  to  petitioned  the  Czar  to  order  the  in- 
habitants to  expel  the  lying  prophetesses  from 
their  midst  (cf.  Kostomarov,  op.  cit.  p.  547). 

Of  a  somewhat  similar  character  are  the  prophetic 
powers  ascribed  among  the  Slavs  to  lunatics.  The 
insane  fall  under  the  same  category  as  the  Roman 
monstra,  as  is  borne  out  by  the  Russian  terms  ap- 
plied to  them,  viz.  jurddivy  (from  urddii,  '  prodigy,' 
"  monster ').  They  filled  the  soul  of  primitive  man 
with  amazement,  and  even  with  reverential  awe. 
Like  the  hysterical  women  just  spoken  of,  they 
poured  forth  incoherent  words  and  phrases,  which 
seemed  to  come  from  another  world,  and  to  betoken 
a  supernatural  knowledge.  Precisely  the  same 
process  of  thought  manifests  itself  in  the  Greek 
series  of  words  :  /j.a.lvo/iat.,  '  I  rave,'  /xavla,  '  lunacy,' 
iiAvtls,  '  soothsayer' — a  development  which  goes  to 
prove  that  at  a  very  early  period  there  must  have 
existed  in  Greece  the  same  sort  of  prophetic  lunatics 
as  are  found  in  ancient  and  modern  Russia. 
During  the  reign  of  Boris  Gudunov  there  lived  in 
Moscow  a  lunatic  of  this  type,  who  was  revered 
as  a  saint.  Naked  and  with  hair  dishevelled  he 
went  about  the  streets  in  the  coldest  weather, 
uttering  his  prophecies  of  coming  woes.  In  awe- 
inspiring  accents  he  arraigned  Boris  for  the  murder 
of  the  young  Czarevitch  ;  but  the  Czar — afraid,  it 
may  be,  of  offending  the  people,  or  else  convinced 
of  the  man's  holiness  of  character — made  no  sign, 
and  did  not  attempt  to  interfere  with  him  in  the 
least  (cf.  Giles  Fletcher,  Of  the  Musse  Common 
Wealth  [London,  1591],  Hakluyt  Soc,  Lond. 
1856,  p.  118  f.).  Even  at  the  present  day  the 
insane  fill  a  somewhat  similar  r61e  in  Russian 
village  life.  In  a  sketch  called  '  Village  Drama,' 
by  J.  Garin  (who  has  a  masterly  knowledge  of  the 
village  communities),  a  merchant  makes  inquiry 
regarding  a  certain  lunatic  whose  favourite 
occupation  it  is  to  pray  for  the  dead  upon  their 
graves,  and  receives  the  following  answer : 

'  We  believe  thus  :  he  is  a  great  servant  of  God.  And  he  has 
taken  up  his  abode  in  the  bathroom  at  my  house.  I  do  not 
know  why  he  has  chosen  me,  for  I  am  more  wicked  than  others, 
and  wholly  covered  with  sins,  as  a  mangy  dog  with  fleas.  So  I 
cannot  tell  why  it  entered  his  mind  to  live  with  me.  Still,  he 
has  fixed  upon  me,  and  now  lives  with  me.  We  cannot  account 
for  him  with  our  thoughts,  and  so  we  can  understand  only  by 
signs  (primetu) — he  is,  in  truth,  a  great  servant  of  God.' 

Such  are  the  ideas  which  still  prevail  regarding 
the  insane  among  the  Russian  peasantry. 
Literature. — This  has  been  given  in  the  course  of  the  article. 

O.    SCHRADEK. 

DIVINATION  (Muslim).  —  The  methods  of 
divination  in  use  among  the  Muslims  are  enumer- 
ated in  the  following  order  by  Ibn  Khaldun 
(Prolegomena,  tr.  de  Slane,  1862-68,  i.  218)  :  (a) 
gazing  at  polished   surfaces  or   '  crystal-gazing '  ; 


(6)  haruspicy,  i.e.  observation  of  the  entrails  of 
slaughtered  animals ;  (c)  sortilege  with  nuts  or 
pebbles  ;  (d)  zajr  or  'iyafah,  augury,  or  observa- 
tion of  the  motions  of  beasts  and  birds  ;  (e)  pos- 
session ;  (/ )  casual  utterance ;  (g)  darb  al-raml, 
geomancy  or  divination  with  sand  ;  (h)  (in  Rab- 
binic phrase)  gematria,  or  divination  by  letters. 
Under  one  or  other  of  these  heads  all  the  forms 
of  divination  in  use  among  the  Muslims  can  be 
ranged ;  thus  the  discipline  which  corresponds 
with  palmistry,  but  deals  preferably  with  other 
lines  than  those  on  the  hand,  is  clearly  akin  to 
haruspicy.  Into  most  of  them  astrology  enters, 
for  the  process  is  supposed  to  be  influenced  by  the 
controlling  planet. 

Of  these  augury  certainly  goes  back  to  pagan 
days,  and  it  is  noticeable  that  the  word  by  which 
the  Hebrew  prophets  describe  their  visions  (hazon) 
comes  from  a  root  whereby  in  Arabic  this  process 
is  described.  The  verses  collected  or  invented  by 
antiquarians  in  illustration  of  the  Arabian  augury 
indicate  that  it  was  in  part  etymological  ;  the 
word  for  '  raven  '  comes  from  a  root  meaning  '  to 
be  a  stranger,'  whence  the  appearance  of  a  raven 
indicates  parting  or  pilgrimage  ;  the  name  for  the 
hoopoe  suggests  'guidance,'  whence  its  appearance 
is  of  good  omen  to  the  wanderer.  Two  ancient 
augural  words  refer  to  the  motion  of  the  creature 
from  right  to  left  and  from  left  to  right ;  but  the 
usage  of  the  terms  seems  to  have  varied  with 
different  tribes,  nor  were  they  in  accord  as  to  the 
favourable  direction. 

The  following  rules  are  given  in  the  treatise 
Mufid  al'ulum  of  Khwarizmi  : 

'  When  mountain  beasts  and  birds  leave  their  places,  this 
presages  a  severe  winter  ;  a  plague  among  cattle  presages  a 
plague  among  human  beings,  but  a  plague  among  swine  pre- 
sages health  ;  a  plague  among  wild  beasts  presages  a  famine  ; 
loud  croaking  of  frogs  presages  plague ;  snoring  by  a  man  of 
importance  presages  promotion ;  loud  breathing  in  sleep  pre- 
sages loss  of  money  ;  loud  hooting  by  an  owl  in  a  house  where 
there  is  an  invalid  presages  his  recovery ;  but  loud  croaking 
presages  the  arrival  of  an  enemy.1 

From  the  practice  of  augury  it  is  not  easy  to 
separate  divination  by  encounter,  and  indeed  the 
Greeks  are  said  to  have  applied  the  word  '  bird ' 
loosely  to  whatever  came  in  their  way.  In  general, 
meeting  with  anything  which  suggests  ill-luck  is 
unlucky ;  the  poet  Ibn  al-Rumi  permitted  no 
inmate  of  his  house  to  leave  it  for  days,  because 
they  would  have  to  encounter  a  one-eyed  neigh- 
bour. It  is  lucky  to  meet  some  one  who  is  carry- 
ing milk ;  all  over  N.  Africa  it  is  considered  good 
manners  to  permit  the  wayfarer  to  dip  his  finger 
in  it  (Doutt6,  Magie  et  religion,  p.  352).  In  the 
same  region  it  is  unlucky  to  hear  the  braying  of 
an  ass  (which,  according  to  the  Qur'an,  is  the  most 
disagreeable  of  sounds),  and  the  hearer  should  pro- 
nounce an  exorcism.  An  early  European  traveller 
records  that  Maghribine  warriors  on  their  way  to 
the  front  regard  it  as  a  good  sign  to  meet  big 
game,  such  as  lions  or  boars ;  a  bad  sign  to  meet 
hares  or  rabbits.  Certain  omens  are  drawn  from 
the  conduct  of  domestic  animals  and  of  children ; 
at  Ouja,  when  the  children  took  to  lighting  bon- 
fires in  the  streets  in  the  evening,  their  parents 
knew  that  war  was  at  hand.  There  are  cases  in 
which  the  symbolism  is  rather  less  intelligible. 
Thus  in  N.  Africa  honey  is  thought  to  be  unlucky, 
and  must  not  be  offered  to  a  guest  on  the  evening 
of  his  arrival  or  to  a  bride. 

Haruspicy  is  properly  connected  with  sacrifice, 
which  occupies  a  very  subordinate  place  in  the 
Islamic  system.  The  Zenatah  who  lived  between 
Tlemsen  and  Tiyaret  practised  divination  by  in- 
spection of  shoulder-blades,  taken  from  sacrificed 
animals  ;  from  the  lines  or  formation  the  haruspex 
could  tell  whether  the  year  was  going  to  be  good 
or  bad.  This  '  scapulomancy '  is  called  'ilm  al- 
aktdf. 


DIVINATION  (Muslim) 


817 


Id  TurkesUin,  '  the  most  common  method  of  divining  the 
course  of  future  events  is  to  place  on  the  coals  the  shoulder- 
blade  of  a  sheep,  which  has  been  carefully  cleaned  of  the  flesh. 
This  is  gradually  calcined,  and  the  cracks,  the  colour,  and  the 
small  particles  which  fall  away  from  it,  denote  good  or  bad  luck 
or  the  various  accidents  which  may  happen  on  an  expedition. 
Another  kind  of  divination  is  very  common  :  kumalak,  by 
means  of  dried  sheep-dung.  The  Kirghiz  selects  forty  balls 
of  dung,  and  divides  them  roughly  into  three  heaps.  He  then 
takes  four  at  a  time  from  each  heap,  until  only  four  or  less 
remain  in  each.  The  remainder  he  also  divides  into  three 
heaps,  and  again  takes  from  each  by  fours.  Three  more  heaps 
are  thus  made,  so  that  at  last  there  are  three  rows  of  three 
piles  in  each.  What  is  left  he  divides  by  three,  and  sees 
whether  the  remainder  be  one,  two,  or  three.  The  varying 
numbers  and  positions  of  the  balls  of  dung  can  be  explained 
by  an  experienced  soothsayer  to  the  intense  satisfaction  or  to 
the  disappointment  of  the  one  who  consults  him'  (Schuyler, 
Turkistan,  New  York,  1876,  ii.  31). 

Similar  omens  are  drawn  in  N.  Africa  from  the 
excrements  in  the  rectum  of  the  victim,  and  the 
blood.  Scapulomancy  is  mentioned  by  Jahiz 
(t  A.H.  255)  together  with  palmistry  and  another 
mode  of  augury  which  is  far  less  familiar,  viz. 
divination  by  the  gnawing  of  mice.  When  the 
Khalif  Mansur  (A.D.  754-775)  was  in  a  village, 
a  mat  of  his  was  gnawed  by  a  mouse  ;  he  sent  it 
to  be  mended,  but  the  workman  suggested  that 
it  ought  to  be  examined  by  a  diviner  first ;  the 
diviner  foretold  the  Khalif  a  quiet  and  prosperous 
reign  (Zoology,  A.H.  1323,  v.  93). 

The  use  of  the  polished  surface  or  magic  mirror 
goes  back  to  ancient  times ;  according  to  lbn 
Khaldtin,  who  agrees  in  this  respect  with  modern 
crystal-gazers,  the  image  appears  not  on  the 
mirror  itself,  but  on  a  kind  of  vapour  which 
floats  between  the  surface  and  the  gazer's  eye. 
The  Khalif  Mansur  had  a  mirror  which  told 
him  whether  a  man  was  a  friend  or  an  enemy ; 
according  to  Sir  1210'-,  the  mirror  rusted  in  the 
case  of  the  enemy,  and  this  was  probably  how 
the  Agamemnon  of  •■Eschylus  worked  his  '  mirror 
of  friendship  '  (line  839).  The  process  varies  very 
much  in  different  places,  different  materials  being 
employed,  with  great  varieties  of  symbolism.  In 
Egypt  the  practice  called  darb  al  -  mandal  is 
common,  and  performed  with  liquids,  e.g.  water 
or  ink,  or  else  with  solid  mirrors,  such  as  sword- 
blades.  Lane  (Modern  Egyptians,  ed.  1871,  i. 
337-346)  gives  an  account  of  some  extraordinary 
performances  of  the  kind  which  he  witnessed  in 
Cairo  ;  the  visions  were  seen  by  a  boy,  casually 
asked  to  gaze,  in  ink  placed  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand  and  surrounded  by  certain  numerals  ;  other 
features  were  a  chafing-dish  with  live  charcoal, 
in  which  spells  written  on  paper  by  the  diviner 
were  burned  together  with  frankincense  and 
coriander-seed.  In  the  mirror  so  arranged  the 
boy  saw  among  other  persons  Lord  Nelson,  of 
whom  he  had  never  heard.  Lane's  story  provoked 
considerable  discussion  in  Europe,  but  was  de- 
fended by  Sir  R.  Burton  (Pilgrimage,  ed.  1893,  ch. 
xviii.),  Sir  Gardiner  Wilkinson,  and  other  persons 
familiar  with  the  East.  This  process  is  used  for 
discovering  offenders  ;  according  to  the  account 
of  it  given  by  Doutte  (p.  390),  which  tallies  in  many 
respects  with  Lane's  but  adds  many  details,  the 
medium  is  supposed  to  command  the  services  of  ten 
of  the  jinn,  who  are  first  told  to  discharge  certain 
domestic  duties  and  then  compelled  by  an  oath 
to  tell  the  medium  anything  which  he  wishes  to 
know.  The  function  of  medium  is  limited  to  a 
nail  class  :  boys  under  age,  negresses,  enceinte 
omen,  and  people  with  a  long  '  line  of  fortune.' 
Possession,  or  inspiration  by  the  jinn,  appears  to 
have  been  a  principle  of  the  pre-Islamic  divina- 
tion, and  the  archaeologists  profess  to  name  some 
of  the  early  diviners.  Probably  possession  was 
not  regarded  as  their  normal  state,  and  they 
hypnotized  themselves  by  some  process  or  other. 
The  importance  of  the  casual  utterance  doubtless 
goes  back  to  an  early  date  in  Semitic  civilization  ; 
vol..  iv. — 52 


what  is  required  is  that  the  utterance  should 
either  be  wholly  unconnected  with  the  matter  on 
which  it  is  made  to  bear,  or  that  it  should  pro- 
ceed from  an  invisible  speaker.  The  author  of  al- 
Fakhri  gravely  narrates  eases  in  which  information 
was  conveyed  by  these  mysterious  channels. 

The  two  last  methods — geomancy  and  ' gematria' 
— are  probably  the  most  characteristically  Muslim 
methods  of  divination,  and  the  literature  on  both 
subjects  is  copious.  In  the  former,  some  sand 
casually  taken  up  is  arranged  in  fifteen  columns 
of  from 5  to  7  grains,  bearing  technical  names;  con- 
ventional values  are  assigned  to  the  combinations 
of  these,  and  these  conventional  values  give  the 
answers  to  the  questions  addressed.  A  Bodleian 
MS  contains  a  dictionary  of  those  values ;  but 
it  is  not  very  lucid  as  to  the  mode  whereby  the 
column  is  obtained.  Divination  by  the  values 
attached  to  the  letters  of  men's  names  is  a  highly 
complicated  subject ;  Sabti  (a  man  of  Ceuta)  in- 
vented a  divination-table  for  this  purpose  called 
Zairjah,  consisting  of  concentric  circles,  accom- 
panied by  an  explanatory  poem,  based  partly  on 
letter-values,  partly  on  astrology.  Ibn  Khaldun 
inserts  it  in  his  Prolegomena ;  but  his  translator, 
de  Slane,  confesses  his  inability  to  follow  the  sys- 
tem. Some  use,  which  is  not  very  clear,  is  made 
of  such  groups  as  222,  333,  444,  etc. — a  fact  which 
indicates,  what  is  otherwise  attested,  that  the 
'  number  of  the  Beast '  is  something  far  more  com- 
plicated than  the  letter-values  of  a  man's  name. 
An  obscure  discipline,  based  on  the  numerical 
values  of  the  letters,  is  called  jafr ;  the  Khalif 
'All  is  said  to  have  composed  two  books  bearing 
the  names  Jafr  and  Jami'ah,  wherein,  by  cal- 
culations of  this  sort,  doubtless  connected  with 
Qur'anic  texts,  he  foretold  the  whole  history  of 
the  world  until  the  Day  of  Judgment.  These 
books  are  supposed  to  be  in  possession  of  the  de- 
scendants of  'All,  and,  as  was  the  case  with  the 
Sibylline  books,  some  of  their  contents  are  occa- 
sionally divulged  ;  the  author  of  the  Diet,  of  Tech. 
Terms  in  the  Mussalman  Sciences  saw  an  extract 
which  foretold  the  fate  of  the  Egyptian  sovereigns. 

A  classical  manual  of  the  black  art  is  the  '  Goal 
of  the  Sage'  of  Maslamah  of  Madrid  (t  a.h.  39S 
=  A.D.  1007-8),  which  it  took  him  seven  years  to 
compose,  containing  matter  which  astonishes  the 
reader.  It  there  appears  that  both  the  planets 
and  the  constellations  divide  between  them  the 
various  objects  to  be  found  in  the  world,  and  the 
different  avocations  of  mankind.  Thus  to  Mars 
belong  the  power  of  attraction,  natural  science, 
surgery,  farriery,  tooth-drawing,  the  Persian  lan- 
guage, the  right  nostril,  the  gall,  heat,  hatred, 
the  theology  which  denies  the  Divine  attributes, 
silk,  hareskin  and  dogskin,  iron-work,  brigandage, 
bitter  tastes,  dryness,  and  red  stones ;  to  the  Ram 
belong  the  face,  pupil,  and  ear,  yellow  and  red, 
bitterness,  deserts  and  robbers'  caves,  fuel,  animals 
with  cloven  hoofs.  The  week-days,  besides  their 
planetary  assignation,  belong  to  certain  angels : 
Monday  to  Gabriel,  being  cold  and  wet ;  Thursday 
to  Tsrafil,  being  hot  and  wet ;  Saturday  to '  Azra'Il, 
being  cold  and  dry ;  Wednesday  to  Michael,  as 
being  a  mixture  of  all  four.  The  nature  of  the 
ink  to  be  used  in  charms  varies  with  the  planets 
and  constellations  ;  and,  according  to  the  position 
of  the  moon,  a  charm  when  written  should  be  dis- 
posed of  in  earth,  air,  fire,  and  water.  Those 
who  desire  the  services  of  the  planets  should  bow 
down  to  them,  and  address  to  them  complimentary 
speeches  calling  them  by  their  Arabic,  Indian, 
Greek,  or  Yunani  names.  The  Greek  names 
(called  by  this  author  Ruml)  are  correctly  given. 
One  author,  Ja'far  of  Basrah,  whom  this  writer 
cites,  invented  a  planetary  division  of  the  Qur'an  : 
by  counting  the  mystic  letters  contained  within 


818 


DIVINATION  (Persian) 


these  divisions,  he  discovered  how  long  each  dyn- 
asty was  to  last ;  for  each  was  controlled  by  one 
of  the  planets. 

Lane  (i.  328)  describes  some  of  the  consulting 
tables  or  books  in  use  in  Egypt.  The  table  of 
Idris  consists  of  100  compartments,  in  each  of 
which  a  letter  of  the  Arabic  alphabet  is  written  ; 
the  questioner,  after  reciting  a  text  bearing  on 
the  subject  of  the  Divine  omniscience,  places  his 
linger  at  random  on  a  letter  ;  he  then  makes  a  sen- 
tence by  adding  every  fifth  letter  till  he  comes  back 
to  the  first ;  the  sentence  thus  formed  tells  him 
whether  to  proceed  or  desist ;  it  is  so  constructed 
that  the  proportion  of  negative  replies  to  positive 
is  four  to  one.  Some  which  the  writer  has  seen 
consist  of  Qur'anic  texts  written  in  a  mysterious 
alphabet ;  therefore  only  an  expert  can  use  them  ; 
the  more  cautious  experts  are  ready  to  give  general 
answers  out  of  them,  but  decline  to  give  replies  in 
which  any  sort  of  exactitude  is  required.  The  use 
of  sortes  Koranicce,  or  divining  by  the  first  text 
that  meets  the  eye  on  opening  the  sacred  volume, 
is  said  to  go  back  to  very  early  times  ;  many  copies 
of  the  Qur'an  contain  directions  for  this  method  of 
using  the  book.  One  method  mentioned  by  Lane 
consists  in  counting  the  number  of  times  the  letters 
which  commence  the  Arabic  words  for  '  good '  and 
'  bad '  occur  on  the  page,  and  in  deciding  for  or 
against  a  course  by  the  majority.  Another  sub- 
stitutes the  rosary  for  the  Qur'an,  and  employs 
the  three  formula;,  'God's  glory,'  'Praise  to  God,' 
and  '  There  is  no  god  but  God,'  to  represent  '  good,' 
'indifferent,'  'bad';  two  beads  are  then  selected 
at  random,  and  the  formulae  recited  in  the  above 
older,  the  beads  being  counted  between  the  two 
selected ;  whichever  formula  goes  to  the  last  bead 
is  regarded  as  answering  the  question. 

That  the  dream  should  be  commonly  employed 
for  ascertaining  the  future  is  natural,  and  there  is 
a  considerable  literature  on  ta'blr,  or  'dream  inter- 
pretation,' mainly  founded  on  the  work  of  Artemi- 
dorus.  Lane  mentions  an  Egyptian  practice  of 
praying  for  dreams  which  can  be  used  in  this  way  : 
the  questioner  requests  to  be  shown  something 
white  or  green,  or  water,  if  the  course  which  he 
contemplates  is  approved ;  something  black  or 
red,  or  fire,  in  the  other  case.  Certain  mystical 
words  uttered  before  going  to  sleep  will  produce, 
it  is  thought,  veridical  visions.  In  some  places 
the  Qur'an  serves  as  a  sort  of  vocabulary  for  the 
language  of  dreams ;  a  ship  signifies  safety,  because 
the  word  '  save '  is  used  in  the  Qur'an  in  connexion 
with  Noah's  ark  ;  to  dream  of  a  king  entering  an 
unusual  abode  is  unlucky,  because  the  visit  of  a 
king  is  said  in  the  same  book  to  be  a  prelude  to 
disaster.  Similar  glosses  can  be  got  from  tradi- 
tions, current  proverbs,  or  familiar  usage  of  words, 
while,  in  other  cases,  the  theory  that  dreams  sig- 
nify their  contraries  can  be  applied  ;  e.g.  the  victor 
in  a  dream-duel  will  be  the  defeated  in  the  real  en- 
counter. The  author  of  the  Mufid  al-ulum  gives 
a  brief  glossary  of  the  dream-language,  in  the  main 
on  these  principles  ;  a  complete  dictionary  of  it  was 
composed  by  'Abd  al-Ghani  al-Nablusi  (printed  at 
Cairo,  1307),  including  proper  names  ;  the  number 
of  meanings  assigned  to  the  symbols  is  unfortun- 
ately perplexing ;  thus,  to  dream  of  Adam  may 
either  signify  a  warning  to  repent,  or  presage  pro- 
motion to  high  office,  or  indicate  that  the  dreamer 
will  be  deceived  by  the  words  of  an  enemy,  etc. 
There  are  places  where  veridical  dreams  are  more 
likely  to  be  obtained  than  elsewhere ;  these  are 
sometimes  caves,  more  often  the  graves  of  saints. 

The  attitude  of  Islamic  theology  towards  all 
these  practices  is,  in  general,  tolerant,  and  indeed 
the  presence  in  the  Qur'an  of  mystic  letters  strongly 
favours  its  magical  employment,  which  is  exceed- 
ingly natural  in  those  countries  in  which  Arabic 


is  little  understood,  though  used  in  both  private 
and  public  worship.  The  belief  in  the  jinn,  who 
discharge  some  function  in  many  of  these  opera- 
tions, is  also  orthodox.  The  prophet  himself 
appears  to  have  attached  considerable  importance 
to  omens,  and,  as  might  be  expected,  had  pro- 
phetic dreams.  Astrology  was  a  highly  respected 
discipline,  on  which  even  orthodox  theologians 
might  write.  Further,  some  forms  of  Sufiism 
took  up  with  ardour  the  Qabbalistic  study  of  the 
Qur'an,  and  in  these  speculations  the  letter-values 
play  a  prominent  part.  On  the  other  hand,  students 
of  philosophy  found  ways  of  introducing  a  theory 
of  divination  into  their  system.  The  two  most 
famous  essays  on  the  subject  are  those  of  Mas'udi 
(ed.  Barbier  de  Meynard,  1861-77,  iii.  323-364)  and 
Ibn  Khaldun  (tr.  de  Slane,  i.  216-237,  and  iii. 
199  ff.).  The  former  mentions  three  theories  to 
account  for  divination :  some  suggested  inspira- 
tion by  jinn ;  others,  the  influence  of  the  planet 
Mercury  at  the  diviner's  birth ;  yet  others  based 
the  diviner's  special  knowledge  on  the  purity  of 
his  soul ;  and  this  last  appears  to  be  the  view 
held  by  Mas'udi  himself.  He  confirms  it  by 
the  facts  that  the  genuine  diviner  is  usually  an 
anchorite  and  devotee,  and  that  the  famous  pre- 
Islamic  diviners  showed  a  tendency  to  get  rid  of 
their  bodies  altogether :  thus  the  wizard  Satlh  had 
no  bones  save  in  his  head. 

Ibn  Khaldun's  theory  is  that,  in  all  cases  of 
divination  which  do  not  depend  on  calculations, 
the  soul  is  detached  from  the  senses,  and  so  comes 
in  contact  with  forms  to  which  it  (the  soul)  serves 
as  matter ;  such  powers,  in  the  case  of  the  Sufis, 
are  an  accident  of  their  askesis ;  and,  so  long  as  the 
ascetic  is  only  accidentally  a  diviner,  his  statements 
are  more  trustworthy  than  those  of  the  astrologer  ; 
but,  if  he  becomes  a  professional  diviner,  then  he 
becomes  less  trustworthy,  since  some  of  the  purity 
of  his  soul  is  affected  by  the  diminished  sincerity 
of  his  purpose.  This  theory  can  be  accommodated 
to  the  supposed  prophetic  powers  of  the  mad  (which 
Aristotle  seems  to  have  recognized)  by  the  suppo- 
sition that,  in  their  case,  the  connexion  between 
soul  and  body  is  less  stable  than  it  is  in  that 
of  the  sound- minded;  and  it  suits  still  better  the 
supposed  phenomenon  of  prophecy  by  persons  at 
the  point  of  death,  or  who  are  just  going  to  sleep. 
According  to  Ibn  Khaldun,  tyrants  sometimes  put 
men  to  death,  with  the  view  of  learning  the  future 
from  their  dying  utterances. 

Literature. — E.  Doutte\  Magie  et  religion  dans  I'Afrique  du 
nord,  Algiers,  1910;  Ghayat  al- Hakim,  by  Maslaniah  of  Madrid 
(MS) ;  Shams  al-Ma'rifah  of  al-Buni  (MS).  Cf .  also  the  authori- 
ties cited  in  the  article.  B.  S.  MARGOLIOUTH. 

DIVINATION  (Persian).— While  the  Avesta 
polemizes  repeatedly  against  sorcerers  and  witches 
(yatu,  pairika ;  see  the  references  collected  in 
Bartholomae,  Altiran.  Worterb.,  Strassburg,  1904, 
cols.  1283-85,  863  f.),  these  attacks  are  levelled 
only  against  '  black  magic ' ;  magic  operations  for 
beneficent  purposes,  as  for  the  counteracting  of 
black  magic,  are  quite  permissible,  and  amulets 
are  prescribed  for  certain  contingencies,  as  well  as 
the  repetition  of  sacred  texts  for  banishing  powers 
of  evil  (YaSt  xiv.  35-40,  45,  57-60;  Vend.  ix.  45  f., 
x.  If.,  xx.  12;  cf.,  further,  art.  Charms  and 
Amulets  [Iranian]).  A  .precisely  similar  state  of 
affairs  meets  us  in  the  Sah-namah  of  Firdusi  (tr. 
Mohl,  Paris,  1876-78),  where,  side  by  side  with 
black  magic — usually  performed  by  a  non-Iranian 
(a  Turk  raises  a  magic  storm  against  the  Iranians 
[iii.  26  ff.  ;  cf.  vi.  494  f.] ;  a  Jew  envenoms  food  by 
causing  his  glance  to  fall  on  milk  in  it  [vi.  235  ff.] ; 
a  Turk  sends  false  dreams  [vi.  500  f.]) — beneficent 
magie  is  mentioned,  and  evidently  approved  (King 
Minocihr  '  closed  the  gate  of  magic  by  his  incanta- 


DIVINATION  (Persian) 


819 


tions'  [i.  164];  a  physician  employs  incantations 
to  aid  in  childbirth  [i.  277] ;  the  use  of  a  magic 
tamarisk  arrow  enables  Kustam  to  slay  Isfandiar 
[iv.  539  f.,  545]).  There  is,  therefore,  more  than 
a  grain  of  truth  in  the  statement  of  Diogenes 
Laertius  {Procem.  6),  that  the  Magi  '  did  not  know 
black  magic'  {tt}v  S£  yoyrru<y)v  fiayeiav  ovk  gyvuxrav), 
though  they  '  practised  the  mantic  art  and  pro- 
phecy' (d<TK€tv  re  Kal  fj.avTt.KTjy  Kal  Trpbpp-qfftv). 

Divination  relies  in  great  part  upon  omens  (q.v.)s 
which  may  depend  upon  the  day  when  they  are 
seen.  Thus,  on  the  *  Fox-day '  festival  in  the 
month  of  Ataro  a  white  ram  was  believed  to  be 
seen  on  a  certain  mountain  j  if  he  bleated,  the 
year  would  be  prosperous ;  but,  if  he  did  not  bleat, 
it  would  be  sterile ;  and,  in  like  fashion,  the 
spectre  of  a  white  ox  bellowed  twice  on  the  night 
of  16th  Din  if  the  year  was  to  be  fertile,  and 
once  if  it  was  to  be  barren  (al-Biruni,  Chron.  of  Anc. 
Nations,  tr.  Sachau,  London,  1879,  pp.  211,  213). 

Omens  were  also  drawn  in  later  Zoroastnanism  from  the 
appearance  of  a  snake  on  each  of  the  thirty  days  of  the  month, 
each  of  the  days  of  the  week,  and  each  of  the  signs  of  the 
zodiac  (al-Biruni,  p.  218 ;  Modi,  Persian  Mar-nameh,  Bombay, 
1893;  Salemann,  in  Travaux  du  iiime  Cong,  des  Urientalistes, 
St.  Petersburg,  1879,  ii.  497 f. ;  Gray,  'Alleged  Zoroastrian 
Ophiomancy  and  its  Possible  Origin,'  in  Hoshang  Mem.  Vol., 
Bombay,  1911,  pp.  454-464),  and  also  from  the  first  appearance 
of  the  moon  in  each  of  the  signs  of  the  zodiac  (Gray,  '  Parsi- 
Persian  Burj-Namah,'  JAOS  xxx.  [1910]  336-342 ;  Rosenberg, 
'Burdz-Name,' in  Trans.  Orient.  Sect.  Imp.  Russ.  Archceolog. 
Soc.  [Russ.],  1911).  These  omens  Gray  seeks  to  derive  ulti- 
mately from  Babylonia,  while  Rosenberg  finds  their  source 
rather  in  India.  Besides  all  this,  certain  days  were  lucky,  and 
others  the  reverse,  as  in  a  calendar  for  a.h.  1099  =  a.d.  1687 
(ed.  Beck,  Ephemerides  Persarum,  Augsburg,  1696),  where  the 
lucky  days  are  ArtavahiSt  3,  10,  Horvadat  1,  6,  30,  Tir  9, 
Amerodaji  2,  24,  Satvairo  2-3,  Mitro  4,  Ataro  1,  16,  30,  Din  3,  30, 
Vohuman  7-8,  SpendarmaJ  10,  25,  and  the  first  epagomenal 
day;  while  the  unlucky  days  are  Fravartin  23,  Artavahist  11, 
28,  30,  Horvadat  26,  28,  Tir  28,  Amerodat"28,  Satvairo  4,  Mitro 
14,  Din  4,  29,  Spendarmaf  9,  and  the  third  epagomenal  day. 

That  omens  were  not  regarded  as  unlawful 
among  the  Iranians  is  clear  from  the  mention  of 
their  study  without  condemnation  in  the  Epistles 
of  MdnuScihar  (I.  i.  2,  II.  i.  3  \SBE  xviii.  280, 
326]) ;  and  in  the  Sdk-ndmah  they  also  find  a 
place. 

Chosru  Parviz  sees  a  portent  of  his  approaching  downfall 
when  a  quince  rolls  from  his  hand  (vii.  295  f.),  and  a  happy 
omen  is  drawn  by  Bahram  Copin  (vi.  475).  It  was,  however, 
possible  to  avert  an  omen.  When  Isfandiar  was  on  the  march, 
a  camel  in  the  van  lay  down  and  refused  to  move,  thus  delay- 
ing the  entire  army.  This  was  an  evil  portent,  and  the  general 
ordered  the  camel'B,head  and  feet  to  be  cut  off,  'that  the  mis- 
fortune might  fall  upon  the  camel '  (iv.  464).  On  the  other 
hand,  omens  might  be  misinterpreted,  as  when,  just  after  the 
completion  of  the  bridge  across  the  Hellespont  and  the  canal 
around  Athos,  an  eclipse  of  the  sun  occurred,  which  the  Persian 
astrologers  explained  to  Xerxes  as  foreboding  the  eclipse  of  the 
Greek  power,  whereas  the  reverse  was  actually  the  outcome 
(Herod,  vii.  19). 

The  regular  forms  of  divination  among  the  Iran- 
ians were  astrology  (which  may  here  include  horo- 
scopy  [see,  further,  the  *  Persian '  section  in  art. 
Stars]),  oneiromancy,  cylicomancy,  and  rhabdo- 
mancy. 

i.  Astrology. — Reserving  for  the  art.  Stars 
(Persian)  a  full  discussion  of  that  astrological  and 
astronomical  knowledge  to  which  the  Persians 
were  indebted  for  no  small  part  of  their  fame  in 
the  classical  world,  we  may  note  here  that  the 
Pahlavi  Dinkart  (9th  cent.) — a  work  which,  though 
late,  may  be  regarded  as  authoritative  in  its  field 
— has  an  interesting  summary  of  the  Iranian  views 
regarding  astrology  (ed.  and  tr.  Peshotan  Behram- 
jee  Sanjana,  Bombay,  1874ff.,  p.  590 f.  [vol.  ix.]) : 

'  The  star-readers  understand  the  worth  of  the  allotment  (of 
deBtiny  by  the  stars).  How  long  are  the  chief  allotting  (stars) 
to  move  in  had  aspects  ?  How  long  are  they  in  conjunction  with 
the  malignant  owner  of  bad  aspects?  How  long  does  the  man 
(influenced  by  such  stars)  work  in  the  way  of  wisdom?  The 
laws  relating  to  these  and  other  (astrological)  details  the  astro- 
logers learn  from  writings  on  the  earth  (i.e.  from  astrology). 
Astrologers  can  foretell  the  good  events  of  a  man's  (life)  from 
his  horoscope.' 

Although  astrology  is  not  mentioned  in  the 
A  vesta,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  it  existed 


in  Iran  from  a  very  early  date.  The  first  mention 
in  any  Pahlavi  text  thus  far  accessible,  however, 

seems  to  be  in  the  romance  Karnamak-i  ArtaxSir-i 
Pdpakdn  (dating  probably  from  the  middle  of  the 
6th  cent.),  which  relates  that  Ardavan  (Artabanos 
v.  [A.r>.  215-224])  summoned  before  him  the  sages 
and  astrologers  and  asked  them  : 

'What  do  you  observe  regarding  the  seven  planets  and  the 
twelve  signs  of  the  zoriiac,  the  position  and  the  motion  of  the 
stars,  the  condition  of  the  contemporary  sovereigns  of  different 
kingdoms,  the  condition  of  the  peoples  of  the  world,  and  re- 
garding myself,  children,  and  our  family?'  The  answer  from 
the  two  chief  astrologers  was :  'The  fiahazig  [Capricornus]  is 
sunk  below ;  the  star  Jupiter  has  returned  to  its  culminating 
point  and  stands  away  from  Mars  and  Venus,  while  Haptoirang 
[the  Great  Bear]  and  the  constellation  of  Leo  descend  to  the 
verge  and  give  help  to  Jupiter  ;  whereupon  it  seems  clear  that 
a  new  lord  or  king  will  appear,  (who  will)  kill  many  potentates, 
and  bring  the  world  again  under  the  sway  of  one  sovereign. 
.  .  .  It  is  so  manifest  that  any  one  of  the  male  servants  who  flies 
away  from  his  king  within  three  days  [from  to-day]  will  attain 
to  greatness  and  kingship,  obtain  his  wish,  and  be  victorious 
over  his  king'  (ed.  and  tr.  Darab  Peshotan  Sanjana,  Bombay, 
1S96,  p.  10f.).  The  servant  in  question  (the  hero  of  the  romance) 
does  flee,  and  the  king  again  inquires  of  the  astrologers,  learn- 
ing that  the  fugitive  must  be  captured  in  three  days,  or  not  at 
all  (p.  15  f.). 

The  richest  source  for  examples  of  Iranian 
astrology  is  unquestionably  the  Sdh-ndmah,  the 
enumeration  of  the  principal  instances  in  which  is 
as  follows  : 

Faridun  casts  the  horoscope  of  his  son  Salm  (i.  104) ;  the 
astrologers  and  mobeds  (priests)  do  the  like  for  Zal,  the  father 
of  Rustam  (i.  184) ;  astrologers  declare  to  king  Minocihr  that 
his  death  is  approaching  (i.  29S) ;  they  find  that  the  children 
alleged  to  have  been  born  of  Siidhabah  were  neither  begotten 
of  the  king  nor  brought  forth  by  her  (ii.  185) ;  they  foretell 
misfortune  to  a  city  built  by  SiavaxS  (ii.  274);  they  choose  a 
lucky  day  for  the  departure  of  the  army  of  Kai  Chosru  to  Turan 
(iii.  9) ;  they  prophesy  the  fortunes  of  battle  to  Tus  (iii.  24) ; 
they  are  among  those  sought  to  inquire  the  reason  of  the  dis- 
favour of  heaven  toward  Iran  (iv.  186) ;  the  famous  Janiasp 
(the  hero  of  the  Jdmdsp-ndmak,  ed.  and  tr.  Modi,  Bombay, 
1903)  foretells  to  Gustasp  the  outcome  of  battle  (iv.  309  ff.)  and 
the  death  of  Isfandiar  (iv.  453 ff.);  astrologers  draw  an  ill- 
omened  horoscope  for  Saghad  (iv.  567) ;  Queen  Humai  has  a 
lucky  day  chosen  by  the  astrologers  for  the  commencement  of 
her  campaign  against  Rum  (Greece)  and  for  the  coronation  of 
Darab  (Darius  in.)  (v.  24,  33);  the  Askanian  Ardavan  directs 
the  astrologers  to  divine  the  future,  and  they  foretell  sorrow 
(v.  228)  ;  the  horoscope  of  Bahram  Gut  is  cast  by  the  astrologers 
(v.  396  f.);  Yazdagird,  the  father  of  Bahram  Gur,  seeks  irom 
them  the  day  and  manner  of  his  death  (v.  416) ;  ill  forebodings 
are  given  to  Bahram  Gur  by  the  astrologers  (vi.  55) ;  defeat  is 
prophesied  for  Bahram  Copin  in  his  expedition  against  Sarah 
(vi.  474);  Ai'in  Gusasp  seeks  the  future  from  an  aged  female 
astrologer,  her  evil  tidings  confirming  a  former  astrological 
prognostic  concerning  him  (vi.  561  f.) ;  it  was  prophesied  to 
Chosru  Parviz  that  he  would  die  far  from  his  retainers  by  the 
hand  of  a  slave,  between  a  mountain  of  gold  and  one  of  silver, 
under  a  heaven  of  gold  and  on  an  earth  of  iron  (vii.  286) ;  the 
same  king  had  had  a  horoscope  cast  for  his  son,  Qubad  (vii 
299  ff.) ;  and  an  astrologer  foresees  evil  for  Yazdagird,  the  last 
of  the  Iranian  kings  (vii.  350). 

Precisely  similar  methods  of  astrology  are  ascribed  by  Firdusi 
to  the  Chinese  (vi.  276,  463),  the  Arabs  (v.  399),  and  the  Greeks 
(vii.  89) ;  while  the  Persians  are  represented  as  using  not  only 
their  own  astrological  tables,  but  also  those  of  the  Hindus  (v. 
276)  and  the  Greeks  (v.  396).  At  the  court  of  Faridun  there 
was  a  council  of  sages,  scholars,  priests,  and  astrologers  (i.  112). 
It  may  also  he  noted  that  the  Cahdr  Magdla  of  Nizami  of 
Samarqand  (tr.  iBrowne,  JRAS,  1899,  ed.  Mirza  Muhammad, 
London,  1910)  has  an  entire  chapter  on  astrologers  and  their 
art,  and  there  are  many  other  notices  on  the  matter,  as  that 
the  poet  Anvari  made  a  notably  unsuccessful  forecast  of  the 
weather  (Browne,  Lit.  Bist.  of  Persia,  London,  1902 ff.,  ii. 
367  f.),  though  here  we  are  no  longer  on  purely  Iranian  ground. 

2.  Oneiromancy. — Early  in  his  invasion  of 
Greece,  Xerxes  had  three  disturbing  dreams,  the 
last  of  which  was  (somewhat  artificially)  inter- 
preted by  his  magi  as  portending  the  subjection 
of  all  the  world  to  the  Persian  sway  (Herod,  vii. 
12  ff.  ;  see  also  the  dream  of  Cyrus  interpreted  by 
Hystaspes  [Herod,  i.  209f.]}  another  dream  of 
Cyrus  recorded  by  Dinon  [in  Cicero,  de  Divinat, 
i.  23],  and  the  dream  of  the  mother  of  Cyrus  given 
by  Nicolaus  Damascenus  [frag.  66  ;  FHG  iii.  399]). 
In  Pahlavi  literature  the  Kdrndmak-i  Artax&Lr-i 
Pdpakdn  (p.  3  f. ),  which  is  closely  followed  by  the 
&dh-ndmah  (v.  218  f.),  ascribes  to  Papak  a  vision, 
duly  interpreted  by  the  diviners,  of  the  future 
greatness  of  Sasan,  the  eponymous  ancestor  of 
the  Sasanian  dynasty  ;  and  in  like  manner,  ac- 


820 


DIVINATION  (Roman) 


cording  to  the  late  Zaratult-namah  (ed.  and  tr. 
Kosenberg,  St.  Petersburg,  1904,  p.  23  f.),  Zoro- 
aster himself  had  a  prophetic  dream,  for  the 
understanding  of  which  the  services  of  an  '  inter- 
preter of  dreams'  were  necessary.  But  it  is  in 
the  Sah-namah  that  we  find  the  richest  material 
for  a  knowledge  of  the  system  of  interpretation  of 
dreams  in  Persia. 

The  evil  Dahhak  (the  Azi  Dahaka  of  the  Avesta)  sees  in  a 
dream  his  approaching  downfall  at  the  hands  of  Faridun  (i. 
51  ff.) ;  Sam  has  two  visions  which  cause  him  to  find  and 
restore  to  favour  his  son  Zal,  whom  he  had  exposed  in  infancy 
(i.  171  ff. ;  cf.  ERE  i.  7b) ;  a  lucky  dream  of  Kai  Qubad  is 
interpreted  by  the  hero  Eustam  (i.  363  f.) ;  the  Turanian  king 
Afrasiab  has  a  dream  of  evil  portent  (ii.  206 ff.);  SiavaxS  is 
warned  by  a  dream  of  his  impending  death  (ii.  311),  and  him- 
self appears  in  a  vision  to  Piranj  the  general  of  Afrasiab,  to 
announce  the  birth  of  Kai  Chosru  (ii.  333) ;  the  archangel  SroS 
tells  Gudarz  in  a  dream  of  the  future  great  deeds  of  Kai  Chosru 
(ii.  380  f.) ;  Jarirah  is  told  in  a  dream  of  the  death  of  her  son, 
Farud  (ii.  503  f .)  ;  Siavaxg  appears  in  a  dream  to  Tus  and  fore- 
tells the  successful  outcome  of  the  impending  battle  (iii.  55)  ;  a 
vision  of  ill  omen  is  seen  by  Bizan  (iii.  254  f.) ;  the  archangel 
Sr65  in  a  dream  warns  Kai  Chosru  of  his  approaching  death  (iv. 
182  f.)  ;  Nusirvan  the  Just  has  a  vision  which  is  interpreted  by 
the  famous  sage  Buzurjmihr  (vi.  190  ff.)  ;  Bahram  Copin,  on  the 
eve  of  battle  with  Savah,  had  a  dream  foretelling  defeat ;  but 
this  was  a  false  vision,  sent  by  a  Turk,  and  it  was  Savah  who 
was  routed  in  fact  (vi.  491,  501).  Firdusi  also  records  similar 
prophetic  dreams  by  a  Greek  princess  (iv.  239  f.)  and  a  Hindu 
king  (v.  88ft\). 

3.  Cylicomancy. — Divination  by  cups  is  men- 
tioned among  the  Persians  both  by  Athenseus,  on 
the  authority  of  Hermippos  (Deipnosoph.  478  A  : 
rb  d£  k6v5v  eari  HepcTiicbv  tt}v  apxtfv'  eXSos  S'  ?xet»  *^s 
tp-quiv  "Ep/U7nros,  us  6  Kbaiios,  ££  ofi  ruv  dewv  ra  Bai^iara 
Kai  to,  tapir  uaiixa.  ylveadat  tirl  yijs'  5t6  £k  ro&rou 
o-trtvoeadai.),  and  by  the  Sah-namah  (iii.  274 ff., 
281  f.).  The  latter  work  refers  specifically  to  the 
magic  cup  possessed  by  Kai  Chosru,  whose  pro- 
perties are  thus  described  (iii.  275 ;  ed.  Vullers- 
Landauer,  Leyden,  1877  ff.,  p.  1100,  lines  2-6) : 

'  He  took  that  cup  in  his  hand  and  looked.  In  it  he  perceived 
the  seven  tciSvars  [regions  of  the  world] ;  of  the  activity  and 
character  of  high  heaven  he  made  evident  the  what,  and  the 
how,  and  the  how  much.  Within  the  cup  he  perceived  the 
reflection  all  at  once  from  Pisces  to  Aries  ;  what  Saturn,  what 
Mars,  what  Jupiter  and  Leo,  how  the  sun,  and  how  the  moon, 
and  how  Venus  and  Mercury  —  the  magician  ruler  of  the 
world  saw  within  it  all  that  was  to  be.'  By  this  method  of 
divination,  which  is  precisely  that  of  crystal-gazing  {q.v.\  the 
king  was  enabled  to  discover  the  exact  plight  of  the  hero 
Bizan  and  to  take  steps  for  his  rescue  from  captivity.  This 
magic  cup  was  later  said  also  to  have  been  possessed  by  the 
earlier  and  wholly  legendary  monarch  Jamsid  (the  Yima  of 
the  Avesta,  concerning  whom  see  art.  Blest,  Abode  of  the 
[Persian]);  and  'Umar  Khayyam  could  even  allegorize  the 
legend,  when  he  wrote  (quatrain  355,  ed.  and  tr.  Whinfield, 
London,  1883) : 

*  To  find  great  Jamshed's  world-reflecting  bowl 
I  compassed  sea  and  land,  and  viewed  the  whole  ; 
But,  when  I  asked  the  wary  sage,  I  learned 
That  bowl  was  my  own  body,  and  my  soul  1 ' 

4.  Rhabdomancy. — The  use  of  rods  for  divining 
is  recorded  by  Dinon  (frag.  8  [FUG  ii.  91])  among 
the  Medes,  and  by  Herodotus  (iv.  67)  among  the 
Iranian  Scythians,  whose  '  ancestral  mantic '  {/j.av- 
tikt)  warpwlT])  was  by  means  of  willow  rods,  em- 
ployed as  follows  : 

'  When  they  have  brought  great  bundles  of  rods,  they  lay 
them  on  the  ground  and  untie  them,  and,  putting  the  rods  one 
by  one,  they  divine  ;  and  while  saying  this  they  collect  the  rods 
and  again  lay  them  together  one  by  one.  .  .  .  They  also  practise 
divination  with  the  bark  of  the  linden  ;  when  one  has  split  the 
linden  in  three  parts,  he  unweaves  and  separates  it  (StairAe/caii* 
.  .  .  Kai  SioXvuyv)  in  his  fingers.' 

There  is  also  a  trace  of  hippomancy  in  Persia. 
According  to  Herodotus  (iii.  84-87),  after  Darius 
and  six  other  Persian  nobles  had  slain  the  pseudo- 
Smerdis,  they  agreed  that  he  should  be  king  whose 
horse  should  first  neigh  after  sunrise,  when  they 
had  mounted  their  steeds.  It  is  true,  if  we  may 
believe  Herodotus,  that  the  choice  of  Darius  in 
this  manner  was  won  by  trickery,  but  the  fact 
remains  that  the  selection  of  a  king  by  an  animal 
is  frequently  mentioned  in  the  East.  A  note- 
worthy parallel  is  the  repeated  account  in  Indian 
folk-tales  whereby  he  who  is  chosen  by  an  ele- 
phant (sometimes  accompanied  by  a  hawk)  is  made 


king  (Knowles,  Folk-Tales  of  Kashmir3,  London, 
1893,  pp.  17,  159,  169 f.,  309;  Steel  and  Temple, 
Wide-Awake  Stories,  Bombay,  1884,  p.  140  f.  ; 
Day,  Folk-Tales  of  Bengal,  London,  1883,  p.  100). 
And,  according  to  Agathias  (ii.  25),  the  Persians 
sought  to  know  the  future  by  gazing  into  the 
sacred  fire — a  practice  which  he  thought  might  be 
derived  from  the  Chaldasans  or  some  other  nation. 
In  conclusion,  mention  may  be  made  of  an  inter- 
esting form  of  minor  divination  practised  by  the 
sage  Buzurjmihr,  as  recorded  in  the  Sah-namah 
(vi.  371  ff. ;  see  also  Tha'alibi,  Hist,  des  rois  des 
Perses,  ed.  and  tr.  Zotenberg,  Paris,  1900,  pp.  633- 
636).  He  had  been  imprisoned  by  Nusirvan  the 
Just,  to  whom  the  Emperor  of  Byzantium  sent  a 
sealed  casket,  the  contents  of  which  were  to  be 
divined  without  opening  it.  All  the  mobeds  failed, 
and  Buzurjmihr  was  accordingly  set  at  liberty  and 
requested  to  use  his  skill.  As  he  passed  along  a 
road,  the  sage  met  three  women — one  having  a 
husband  and  child,  the  second  married  but  child- 
less, and  the  third  unmarried  ;  and  he  accordingly 
was  able  to  inform  the  king  that  the  casket  con- 
tained three  pearls  under  more  than  three  wrappers 
— one  of  the  pearls  being  pierced,  the  second  half- 
pierced,  and  the  third  unpierced. 

Literature. — The  passages  in  the  classics  regarding  Persian 
divination  are  indicated  by  Rapp,  ZDMG  xx.  [1866]  76  f.  The 
Iranian  material  appears  to  have  remained  unconsidered  hither- 
to. Louis  H.  Gray. 

DIVINATION  (Roman).— Among  the  inhabit- 
ants of  ancient  Italy  we  find  abundant  evidence 
of  the  desire  to  hold  intercourse  with  the  gods  as 
a  means  of  securing  intimations  of  their  will  and 
disclosures  regarding  the  future.  In  Italy,  how- 
ever, this  desire  assumes  forms  essentially  different 
from  those  met  with  in  Greece.  Thus,  the  Italians 
were  strangers  to  the  idea  that  the  Deity  takes 
possession  of  the  mental  and  spiritual  faculties 
of  a  human  being,  making  him  IVfleos,  and  using 
him  as  the  medium  for  the  revelation  of  its  de- 
signs ;  and  even  if — as  has  recently  been  con- 
jectured (W.  F.  Otto,  ARW  xii.  [1909]  548  ff.)— 
they  had  in  the  word  superstitio  a  term  signifying 
the  state  of  trance,  and  thus  corresponding  to  the 
Gr.  l/coT-acris,  yet  the  former  carried  with  it  from 
the  outset  a  suggestion  of  something  odd  and 
sinister.  In  Italy  there  was  no  practice  of  inquir- 
ing into  futurity  by  the  trance  or  by  immediate 
Divine  enlightenment,  and  accordingly  no  trace  of 
that  species  of  divination  which  the  Stoics  called 
&t€xvov  Ka-l  ddtdaKTOv  ixavriKrjS  ytvos,  in  contradis- 
tinction to  the  skilled  interpretations  of  casual 
appearances  in  the  external  world  (Plut.  de  Vita 
et  Poesi  Homeri,  ii.  212  ;  cf.  Cic.  de  Div.  ii.  26  f.). 
Among  the  Italian  peoples,  therefore,  we  meet 
neither  with  predictions  emanating  from  Divinely 
inspired  prophets  and  prophetesses  (the  word  vates 
being  probably  borrowed  from  the  Celt.),  nor  with 
dream  oracles  in  which  the  gods  vouchsafe  their 
revelations  to  inquirers  sleeping  in  temples.  When 
Vergil  {Mn.  vii.  81  ff,  imitated  by  Ovid,  Fasti,  iv. 
649  ff.)  tells  us  that  King  Latinus  performed  the 
rite  of  incubation,  and  received  a  dream-oracle,  in 
a  sanctuary  of  the  god  Faunus  near  Tibur,  we 
shall  hardly  err  in  regarding  the  narrative  as  a 
product  of  the  poet's  fancy  (cf.  R.  Heinze,  Vergils 
epische  Technik2,  Leipzig,  1908,  p.  174,  note  2), 
for  which  the  descriptions  of  famous  Greek  in- 
cubation-shrines, such  as  that  of  Trophonios  in 
Lebadeia,  may  have  supplied  the  model.  It  is 
true  that,  when  the  Greek  cult  of  the  Epidaurian 
Asklepios  migrated  to  Rome,  it  carried  thither  its 
associated  practice  of  iyKolfiijcns  (cf.  M.  Besnier, 
LIleTibe'rinedansV  antiquity, Paris,  1902, p.  223 ff.); 
yet  it  did  not  force  its  way  into  the  ancient  Roman 
or  Italic  cults ;  for,  of  course,   the  language  of 


DIVINATION  (Roman) 


821 


Plautus,  Cure.  266,  '  namque  incubare  satius  te 
fuerat  Iovi,'  in  no  sense  implies  that  incubation 
was  practised  in  the  Capitoline  temple,  as  the 
poet  is  merely  in  jest  contrasting  Juppiter  as  the 
god  of  oaths  with  Asklepios  ;  while  the  testimony 
of  Schol.  Pers.  ii.  56,  '  cum  Roruani  pestilentia 
laborarent,  Castor  et  Pollux  in  somniis  populum 
monuerunt  quibus  remediis  uterentur,'  is  not 
sufficient  to  justify  the  hypothesis  that  incuba- 
tion was  practised  in  the  temple  of  the  Dioscuri  in 
the  forum  (L.  Deubner,  de  Incubatione,  Leipzig, 
1900,  p.  79 ;  Neue  Jahrb.  f.  klass.  Altert.  ix. 
[1902]  384  ff.).  The  inscriptions,  no  doubt,  furnish 
a  large  number  of  dedications  which  were  made 
'  iussu,'  '  imperio,'  'ex  praecepto,'  '  ex  visu,' etc., 
to  various  deities,  or  in  which  the  dedicator  speaks 
of  himself  as  '  somno  monitus  '  (instances  in  Mar- 
quardt,  Rom.  Staatsverwaltung,  Leipzig,  1885,  iii. 
100,  note  7  ;  A.  De  Marchi,  II  culto  privato  di 
Roma  antica,  Milan,  1896,  i.  285  ft'.);  but  the 
majority  of  these  inscriptions  are  connected 
with  the  worship  of  alien  deities,  such  as  Askle- 
pios, Isis,  Juppiter  Dolichenus,  Mithra,  etc.  ; 
while,  again,  such  dedications  as  CIL  xiv.  23 
(Ostia)  :  '  Iovi  optumo  maximo  ex  viso  aram 
aedifieavit,'  or  v.  2472  (Ateste)  :  '  C.  Titius  C.  1. 
Pelops  a  love  ex  visu  iussus  posuit,'  refer,  not  to 
incubation  at  all,  but  to  ordinary  dreams,  which 
naturally  attracted  notice  in  Italy  as  elsewhere. 
L.  Coelius  Antipater,  the  historian,  who  revelled  in 
stories  of  dreams  that  came  true  (Cic.  de  Div.  i. 
49,  55  f.),  and  who  was  probably  the  object  of 
Sisenna's  polemic  somniis  credi  non  oportere  (ib. 
i.  99),  no  doubt  borrowed  this  artifice  for  enliven- 
ing historical  narrative  from  his  Greek  models, 
but  he  could  not  have  resorted  to  the  expedient 
unless  the  Italians  had  shared  the  general  belief 
in  the  significance  of  dreams.  Our  contention  is, 
however,  that  neither  the  dream  nor  the  dream- 
oracle  was  an  element  in  the  religious  practice  of 
the  Italic  peoples. 

Nor  do  we  find  the  gnomic  oracle  on  Italian  soil. 
The  reference  of  Ennius  {Ann.,  frag.  214,  Vahlen, 
Leipzig,  1903)  to  the  '  versus  quos  olim  Fauni 
vatesque  canebant '  (cf.  Varro,  de  Ling.  Lat.  vii. 
36),  and  the  ascription  of  ^fi/xerpoi  xpwpol  to  the 
goddess  Carmenta  (Plut.  Qu.  Rom.  56),  are  simply 
hypotheses  designed  to  favour  the  etymology  of  the 
time  (Faunus  from  fari,  Carmenta  from  carmen), 
like  the  derivation  of  ager  Vaticanus  '  a  vaticiniis ' 
(Aul.  Gell.  xvi.  17.  1  ;  cf.  Paul.  p.  379).  The 
carmina  Marciana  certainly  gained  official  recog- 
nition at  the  hands  of  the  Roman  authorities  in 
212  B.C.,  but,  as  appears  from  the  text  in  which 
Livy  (xxv.  12)  renders  them,  they  were  simply 
Greek  Sibylline  sentences  in  a  Latin  redaction, 
and  their  supposed  author,  Cn.  Marcius  vates 
(Fest.  p.  165),  has  as  little  right  to  be  regarded  as 
an  ancient  Italic  soothsayer  as  the  Publicius  vates 
mentioned  only  by  Cicero  (de  Div.  i.  114,  ii.  113). 
In  point  of  fact,  the  oracle  as  met  with  in  Italy 
never  signifies  an  utterance  emanating  from  an 
individual  possessed  and  inspired  by  a  divinity ; 
it  involves  no  more  than  the  listening  for  and 
interpretation  of  the  mysterious  voices  and  noises 
to  be  heard  in  the  world  of  Nature.  It  is  to  such 
manifestations  likewise  that  the  fragment  of  the 
'Mysteria'  of  Varro's  Saturm  Menippem  (326,  Bue- 
cheler)  refers  :  '  prisca  horrida  silent  oracla  crepera 
in  nemoribus.'  The  belief  in  the  prophetic  powers 
of  certain  water-nymphs,  such  as  Carmenta  and 
the  Camense,  may  be  supposed  to  indicate  a 
practice  of  drawing  cryptic  revelations  from  the 
murmur  of  springs.  In  the  rustling  of  the  forest 
was  heard  the  voice  of  the  god  Faunus,  or  his 
later  representative  Silvanus  — the  voice,  e.g., 
which  on  the  stricken  field  at  length  announced 
the  sternly  contested  and  long  doubtful  victory 


(Dion.  Hal.  Ant.  v.  16.  2  f.;  Livy,  ii.  7.  2;  cf.  Cic.de 
Div.  i.  101,  de  Nat.  Deor.  ii.  6,  iii.  15) ;  while  at  Tiora 
Matiene,  a  place  in  the  old  Sabine  country,  the 
woodpecker,  the  sacred  bird  of  Mars,  perched 
upon  a  wooden  pillar,  exercised  its  prophetic  gift 
(Dion.  Hal.  Ant.  i.  14.  5  ;  the  '  picus  P'eronius ' 
mentioned  in  Fest.  p.  197,  has,  no  doubt,  a  similar 
reference).  There  are  numerous  stories  of  super- 
natural voices  which,  echoing  forth  from  sacred 
woods  and  temples,  intimate  the  warnings  or 
behests  of  the  Divine  powers  (e.g.  Livy,  i.  31.  3,  vi. 
33.  5  ;  Cic.  de  Div.  i.  101)  ;  and  the  unknown 
divinity  who  in  a  communication  of  this  kind  had 
foretold  the  irruption  of  the  Gauls  was  honoured 
— as  Aius  Locutius — with  a  shrine  erected  on  the 
slope  of  the  Palatine  Hill  above  the  temple  of 
Vesta — at  the  very  spot,  in  fact,  where  his  voice 
had  been  heard  (Livy,  v.  32.  6,  50.  5,  52.  11  ;  Cic. 
de  Div.  i.  101,  ii.  69  ;  Varro  in  Aul.  Gell.  xvi. 
17.  2,  etc.). 

The  distinctively  Italic  method  of  divining  the 
future  was  carried  out  by  means  of  sortes,  i.e. 
small  rods  or  plates  bearing  inscriptions  and  strung 
together  (serere,  whence  sors)  ;  one  of  these  was 
drawn,  and  the  inscription  upon  it  was  read  and  in- 
terpreted in  such  a  way  as  to  provide  an  answer  to 
the  question  put  by  the  inquirer.  The  fact  that 
in  process  of  time  the  word  sors  came  to  mean 
'  fate  '  in  general,  and  was  even  used  as  a  designa- 
tion of  Fortuna,  the  goddess  of  destiny  and  luck 
(thus,  according  to  the  inscription  CIL  x.  6303 
[Terracina],  a  '  Sortis  signum  memphiticum '  is 
dedicated  to  Isis),  clearly  shows  the  importance 
of  the  device  of  sortilege  in  Italic  divination. 
Cicero  (de  Div.  i.  34)  draws  a  rigorous  contrast 
between  the  oracles  '  quae  aequatis  sortibus  du- 
cuntur '  and  those  '  quae  instinctu  divino  adfla- 
tuque  funduntur.'  The  procedure  followed  in 
drawing  the  lots  is  described  most  precisely  in 
the  accounts  of  the  celebrated  oracle  at  Praeneste, 
which  maintained  its  reputation  till  the  later  years 
of  the  Imperial  period.  According  to  Cicero's  de- 
scription (de  Div.  ii.  85  f. ),  the  sortes — mysteri 
ously  discovered  in  some  remote  age — were  in- 
scribed upon  tablets  of  oak,  and  in  this  form  were 
preserved  in  a  chest  (area)  made  from  the  wood 
of  a  sacred  olive  tree  ;  it  was  from  this  chest  that 
Juppiter,  who  shared  this  particular  sanctuary 
with  Fortuna,  derived  his  appellation  of  Arcanus 
(CIL  xiv.  2937,  2972;  cf.  2852  =  Buecheler,  Carm. 
epigr.,  Berlin,  1S97,  no.  249,  17).  At  the  bidding 
of  the  goddess,  a  boy  mixed  the  lots  and  then  drew 
one  out ;  the  technical  terms  for  this  were  trakere, 
tollere,  and  ducere  (Serv.  JEn.  i.  508  :  '  trahuntur 
sortes'  ;  Tibull.  i.  3.  11  :  '  sacras  pueri  sortes  ter 
sustulit ' ;  cf.  CIL  v.  5801  :  '  sacro  suscepto,  sor- 
tib(us)  sublatis';  Juven.  vi.  583:  'sortes  ducet'). 
Denarii  of  M.  Pleetorius  Cestianus  from  Cicero's 
time  show  on  the  reverse  a  figure  of  the  boy,  with 
a  tablet  below  him  bearing  the  word  SORS  (E. 
Babelon,  Monnaies  de  la  rfpub.  rom.,  Paris,  1885, 
ii.  315,  no.  10  ;  also  H.  Dressel,  SBA  W,  1907,  p. 
371).  To  bring  the  gnome  thus  drawn  into  con- 
nexion with  the  question  asked,  and  to  interpret 
it  accordingly,  was  the  work  of  the  sortilegi  (Cic. 
de  Div.  i.  132,  ii.  109  ;  Lucan,  ix.  581  ;  Isid.  Orig. 
viii.  9.  28  ;  Porph.  on  Hor.  Sat.  i.  9.  29),  of  whose 
function  we  have  direct  evidence,  not  only  as  re- 
gards the  worship  of  Fortuna  at  Pneneste  (CIL 
xiv.  2989  :  '  sortilegus  Fortunae  Primigeniae  '),  but 
also  in  connexion  with  other  localities  (CIL  iv. 
Suppl.  5182,  vi.  2274,  viii.  6181).  When  a  favour- 
able prediction  was  fulfilled,  it  was  customary  for 
the  inquirer  to  express  his  gratitude  by  a  votive 
offering  to  the  goddess,  as  is  shown  by  the  in- 
scription CIL  xiv.  2862 :  '  Fortunae  Iovis  puero 
Primigeniae  d.  d.  ex  sorte  compos  factus  Nothus 
Ruficanae  L.  f.  Plotillae.'    The  oracle  was  open  for 


822 


DIVINATION  (Roman) 


consultation  only  on  certain  days — in  particular 
on  one  of  the  two  annual  feast-days  of  the  goddess 
(according  to  CIL  i.2  p.  339:  '[hoc  biduo  sacri- 
fici]um  maximu[m]  Fortunae  Prim[i]g(eniae)  :  utro 
eorum  die  oraclum  patet,  ii  viri  vitulum  i[mnio- 
lant],'  the  Praenestine  festivals  fell  on  the  11th 
and  12th  of  April) ;  hut  exceptions  were  no  doubt 
permitted  in  the  case  of  distinguished  inquirers, 
as,  e.g.,  the  Emperor  Domitian,  who,  on  New  Year's 
Day  for  many  years  in  succession,  obtained  a  sors 
of  happy  omen,  but  received  a  forecast  of  disaster 
in  the  year  of  his  overthrow  (Suet.  Domit.  15). 
The  Emperor  Tiberius,  having  become  sceptical  of 
the  Praenestine  oracle,  resolved  to  destroy  the 
sortes,  and  had  the  sacred  area  sealed  and  con- 
veyed to  Rome  ;  here,  however,  it  was  found  that 
the  tablets  were  no  longer  in  the  box,  and  the 
supposed  miracle  induced  the  Emperor  to  abandon 
his  harsh  design  (Suet.  Tiber.  63).  In  the  later 
period  of  the  Empire  the  '  sortes  Vergilianae ' 
(Hist.  Aug.  Hadr.  2.  8;  Alex.  Sev.  14.  5)  were 
resorted  to  at  Prseneste  as  elsewhere,  e.g.  in  the 
temple  of  Apollo  at  Cumae  (Hist.  Aug.  Clod.  Alb. 
5.  4),  and  on  the  Apennines  (ib.  Claud.  Got.  10. 
4-6).  In  this  form  of  divination  the  tablets  were 
inscribed  with  verses  from  Vergil  which  seemed 
peculiarly  pregnant  with  meaning  and  capable 
of  various  interpretations;  thus,  e.g.,  Alexander 
Severus,  at  the  time  when  Elagabalus  was  har- 
bouring designs  upon  his  life,  received  the  pre- 
monition in  Mn.  vi.  883  f.  :  'si  qua  fata  aspera 
rumpas,  tu  Marcellns  eris '  (Hist.  Aug.  Alex.  Sev. 
4.  6).  Still  another  Italic  cult  of  Fortuna,  that, 
namely,  located  at  Antium,  with  its  two  images 
of  the  goddess,  was  associated  with  an  oracle,  and 
it  is  recorded  '  apud  Antium  promoveri  simulacra 
Fortunarum  ad  danda  responsa '  (Macr.  Sat.  i. 
23.  13  ;  cf.  Suet.  Calig.  57  ;  Martial,  v.  i.  3),  but 
we  do  not  know  whether  sortes  were  employed 
there  or  not.  They  were  still  in  vogue,  however, 
at  Caere  (Livy,  xxi.  62.  5-8 ;  cf.  Sidon.  Apoll. 
Carm.  ix.  190),  and  Falerii  (Livy,  xxii.  1.  11  ;  cf. 
Plut.  Fab.  2),  and  in  the  cult  of  the  river-god 
Clitumnus  at  Mevania  in  Umbria  (Plin.  Ep.  viii. 
8.  5  ;  cf.  Suet.  Calig.  43)  and  of  Juppiter  Appen- 
ninus  at  the  summit  of  the  mountain  pass  near 
Iguvium  (' Appenninis  sortibus,'  Hist.  Aug.  Firm. 
3.  4  ;  cf.  Claud.  Got.  10.  4) ;  also  in  the  so-called 
Oracle  of  Geryon  at  Fons  Aponi  near  Patavium, 
where  lots  were  cast  by  means  of  dice ;  it  was 
here  that  Tiberius,  while  on  the  march  to  Illyria, 
was  advised,  sorte  tracta,  to  make  a  throw  into  the 
fountain  with  golden  dice,  and  in  the  event  gained 
the  maximum  number  of  points  (Suet.  Tib.  14). 
According  to  a  most  felicitous  conjecture  of 
Mommsen,  the  seventeen  bronze  tablets  whs^-h 
were  discovered  in  the  16th  cent,  and  then — all 
but  three — lost  again,  and  whose  texts  are  given 
in  CIL  i.  nos.  1438-1454,  as  also  in  Buecheler, 
Carm.  epigr.  no.  331,  came  originally  from  the 
shrine  at  Fons  Aponi.  They  consist  of  little 
bronze  plates,  with  a  ring  to  hang  them  upon,  and 
each  is  inscribed  with  a  hexameter  verse.  Their 
language,  prosody,  and  metre  are  archaic  (cf.  F. 
Ritschl,  Opusc.  philol.  iv.,  Leipzig,  1878,  395  ff.), 
and  would  appear  to  be  traceable  to  a  renovation 
of  older  material  made — with  many  misunder- 
standings— about  Cicero's  time.  In  purport  they 
are  banal  to  the  last  degree,  and  doubtless  all  the 
better  adapted  to  supply  answers  to  any  kind  of 
question;  thus,  e.g.,  '  credis  quod  deicunt?  non 
sunt  ita,  ne  fore  stultu(s),'  and  '  nunc  (nuncine, 
Ritschl)  me  rogitas,  nunc  consulis,  tempus  abit 
iam.'  The  three  sortes  found  in  the  Forum  novum 
near  Parma,  and  now  in  the  museum  of  that  city, 
are  of  a  somewhat  different  character  (CIL  xi. 
1129)  ;  on  each  of  their  four  sides  they  bear  a 
gnomic  saying,  composed,  so  far  as  we  can  judge 


from  the  much  mutilated  text,  in  hexameter  verse 
of  very  irregular  type  (cf.  A.  Swoboda,  in  Wiener 
Studien,  xxiv.  [1902]  485  ff.). 

While  the  practice  of  supplying  oracles  by  means 
of  sortes  was  thus  indigenous  to  Italy,  and  preva- 
lent everywhere  on  Italian  soil,  yet  the  Roman 
State  religion  took  up  a  curiously  disparaging  atti- 
tude towards  it.  None  of  the  recognized  divinities 
of  the  ancient  Roman  regime  delivered  oracles, 
and,  while  Paulus  (p.  368)  speaks  of  deities  called 
'Tenitae,  quae  credebantur  esse  sortium  deae, 
dictae  quod  tenendi  haberent  potestatem,'  we  can- 
not say  whether  he  was  thinking  of  Roman  deities 
at  all,  or  whether  his  statement  has  any  better 
foundation  than  the  obviously  absurd  etymology 
of  the  name.  The  only  reference  to  sortes  con- 
nected with  the  city  of  Rome  is  supplied  by  the 
inscription  of  a  'sortilegus  ab  Venere  Erucina'  (CIL 
vi.  2274) — an  item  of  evidence  emanating  from  a 
cult  of  Greek  origin,  and  dating  from  a  time  when 
the  lines  of  demarcation  between  native  and  foreign 
divination  had  been  obliterated  in  private  life,  and 
when  all  kinds  of  Greek  and  Oriental  soothsaying 
had  found  adherents  in  Rome.  But  the  injunction 
by  which  the  Senate,  as  late  as  241  B.C.,  prohibited 
the  consul  Q.  Lutatius  Cerco  from  consulting  the 
Praenestine  sortes  (Val.  Max.  Epit.  i.  3.  2),  and  the 
scornful  question  of  Cicero  (de  Din.  ii.  87) :  '  quis 
enim  magistrates  aut  quis  vir  inlustrior  utitur  sor- 
tibus ? '  are  really  explained  by  the  fact  that  the 
State  religion  took  a  narrower  view  of  the  char- 
acter and  purpose  of  divination  than  that  which 
prevailed  in  Greece,  or,  indeed,  among  other  Italian 
tribes ;  note  the  tone  of  disdain  in  which  Cicero 
(ib.  i.  105,  132,  ii.  70)  refers  to  'Soranus  augur' 
and  '  Marsus  augur.'  From  the  Roman  point  of 
view,  the  operations  of  divination  were  concerned, 
not  with  those  things  '  quae  fortuitae  putantur, 
praedictio  atque  praesensio'  (ib.  i.  9),  but  exclu- 
sively with  the  determination  of  the  question 
whether  an  action  just  about  to  be  performed  had 
or  had  not  the  sanction  of  the  gods.  It  is  true 
that  in  Cicero's  day  there  emerged  within  the  Col- 
legium of  the  official  representatives  of  Roman 
divination — the  '  interpretes  Iovis  optimi  maximi 
publici  augures'  (de  Leg.  ii.  20) — a  conflict  of 
opinion  as  to  the  function  of  the  augurs,  viz. 
whether  they  merely  expounded  a  system  of  doc- 
trine which  had  been  devised  for  reasons  of  State, 
or  whether  they  could  actually  furnish  a  '  prae- 
sensio aut  scientia  veritatis  futurae'  (de  Div.  i. 
105).  Cicero,  who  himself  became  an  augur  in  53 
B.C.,  and  to  whom  Ap.  Claudius  Pulcher  (Consul 
in  54  B.C.),  the  champion  of  the  second  of  these 
views,  had  dedicated  his  work  de  Discipline  Augu- 
rali  (Cic.  Ep.  ad  Fam.  iii.  4.  1 ),  took  up  a  mediating 
position,  holding,  on  the  one  hand,  that  the  augural 
science  of  his  day  was  nothing  more  than  an  instru- 
ment put  into  the  hands  of  statesmen  for  political 
ends,  while  maintaining,  on  the  other,  that  it  had 
originally  been  a  'divinatio  rerum  futurarum  '  (de 
Div.  ii.  75  ;  de  Leg.  ii.  32  f . ).  Even  on  the  latter 
hypothesis,  however,  the  disciplina  auguralis  had 
never  besought  the  Deity  for  light  upon  the  occur- 
rence and  course  of  future  events  (de  Div.  ii.  70) : 
'  non  enim  sumus  ii  nos  augures,  qui  avium  reli- 
quorumve  signorum  observatione  futura  dicamus '), 
but  had  merely  solicited  indications  of  the  Divine 
consent  to  intended  actions,  and  endeavoured  to 
recognize  the  warnings  proceeding  from  the  gods  ; 
and,  accordingly,  Cicero  is  quite  correct  in  speaking 
of  the  '  rerum  bene  gerendarum  auctoritates '  as  the 
subject-matter  of  the  science  (de  Har.  Besp.  18). 
Such  indications  of  the  Divine  will,  the  interpre- 
tation of  which  was  the  function  of  the  disciplina 
auguralis,  were  called  auguria  or  signa,  and  were 
either  the  solicited  intimations  of  the  Divine  com- 
pliance (auguria  impetrativa),  or  signs-  -chiefly  of 


DIVINATION  (Roman) 


823 


disapproval  and  foreboding — spontaneously  vouch- 
safed by  the  gods  (auguria  oblativa  [Serv.  JEn.  vi. 
190,  xii.  259]).  Solicited  omens — so  far,  at  least, 
as  concerned  the  magisterial  consultation  of  the 
gods,  yet  not  the  priestly  operations  of  the  augurs 
— were  originally  taken  solely  from  phenomena 
connected  with  birds,  and  thus  the  word  auspicium 
(=avispicium)  became  the  general  term  for  those 
intimations  of  the  Divine  will  which,  approving 
or  dissuading,  guided  human  conduct,  as  also  for 
the  art  of  identifying  and  interpreting  such  intima- 
tions. Consultation  of  the  auspicia  was  in  ancient 
times  an  indispensable  preliminary  to  all  important 
actions  both  in  public  and  in  private  life  (Cic.  de 
Div.  i.  28  =  Val.  Max.  ii.  1.  1):  thus,  we  are  told 
that  the  species  of  hawk  called  cegithus  was  held 
to  be  '  prosperrimi  augurii  nuptialibus  negotiis  et 
pecuariae  rei'  (Pliny,  HN  x.  21).  Latterly,  how- 
ever, the  practice  was  discarded  in  private  affairs, 
leaving  as  its  sole  vestige  the  designation  '  nupti- 
arum  auspices,'  which  was  applied  to  certain  wit- 
nesses in  marriage  contracts  (Varro,  in  Serv.  JEn. 
iv.  45,  etc. ).  In  public  affairs,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  science  of  the  auspicium  was  practically  the 
basis  of  official  authority,  as  every  public  function- 
ary had  to  make  sure  of  the  Divine  sanction  for 
every  action  within  his  jurisdiction.  Accordingly, 
the  prerogative  of  taking  the  auspices  coincided 
with  the  official  warrant  for  undertaking  any  par- 
ticular action,  so  that  the  auspicium,  as  the  Divine 
guarantee  of  success,  was  co-ordinate  with  the 
imperium,  or  secular  authority,  and  the  phrase 
'  auspicium  imperiumque '  covered  the  entire  range 
of  official  power  (cf.  the  expression  '  ductu  auspieio 
imperioque  eius  Achaia  capta,'  in  the  epitaph  of 
L.  Mummius  [OIL  vi.  331]). 

As  regards  the  mode  of  procedure  in  taking  the 
auspices,  we  have  numerous  sources  of  information 
(e.g.  Fest.  p.  348  ;  Serv.  JEn.  vi.  197  ;  Cic.  de  Div. 
i.  71).  When  the  consul  had  occasion  to  perform 
some  duty  which  must  be  undertaken  auspicate,— 
if,  e.g.,  he  was  about  to  enter  upon  office,  to  direct 
the  proceedings  of  the  comitia,  to  hold  a  meeting 
of  the  Senate,  or  to  set  out  upon  a  campaign, — 
he  proceeded,  in  the  early  morning  of  the  day  of 
action,  and  in  company  with  one  or  more  assist- 
ants ('qui  in  auspieio  sunt  consuli'),  to  the  scene 
of  the  proposed  task  (in  the  case  of  an  expedition, 
to  the  Capitol).  Here  a  tent  (tabernaculum)  was 
pitched,  open  on  the  one  side.  Within  the  tent 
the  consul,  having  first  uttered  a  prayer,  seated 
himself  on  a  solid  chair  (solida  sella),  and  then, 
directing  his  gaze  towards  the  field  of  vision  on 
the  open  side,  awaited  the  advent  of  favourable 
auguries.  It  was,  however,  only  a  relatively  small 
number  of  species  of  birds  that  were  taken  into 
account  for  the  augurium  impetrativum  (Cic.  de 
Div.  ii.  76) ;  the  books  of  the  augurs  contained 
full  lists  of  the  aves  augurales  (Serv.  JEn.  i.  398), 
with  precise  regulations  as  to  the  circumstances 
in  which,  for  any  particular  case,  the  omen  was  to 
be  recognized  as  favourable  or  the  reverse.  With 
some  kinds  of  birds  the  auspicia  were  determined 
by  their  flight,  with  others  by  their  cries,  and, 
accordingly,  the  augural  birds  were  divided  into 
the  two  classes  of  alites  and  oscines  (Fest.  p.  197  ; 
Serv.  JEn.  iv.  462).  Many  species,  again,  were 
propitious  at  one  season  of  the  year,  and  unpro- 
pitious  at  another  (Pliny,  HN  x.  30  :  '  cornix  .  .  . 
inauspicatissima  fetus  tempore,  hoc  est  post  sol- 
stitium').  The  Divine  assent  was  intimated  by 
the  appearance  of  certain  birds  on  the  right  hand 
of  the  observer,  of  others  on  the  left  (Plaut.  Asin. 
259  f.  :  '  impetritum  inauguratumst,  quovis  admit- 
tunt  aves :  picus  et  cornix  ab  laeva,  corvos  parra 
ab  dextera  consuadent' ;  cf .  Cic.  de  Div.  i.  85).  The 
auguries,  in  fact,  were  subject  to  an  elaborate 
system  of  casuistry,  certain  details  of  which  are 


given  in  the  extract  in  Pliny,  HN  x.  6-42  (cf. 
D.  Detlefsen,  in  Hermes,  xxxvi.  [1901]  5  ft'.).  If 
during  the  period  of  observation  one  of  the  recog- 
nized favourable  omens  appeared  (the  technical 
phrase  for  this  was  '  addicunt  aves ' ;  cf.  Livy,  i. 
36.  3,  55.  3,  xxvii.  16.  15 ;  Fest.  p.  241),  the  pheno- 
menon was  accepted  as  evidence  of  the  Divine  con- 
sent ;  but,  if  such  favourable  omen  did  not  present 
itself,  or  if  the  proceedings  were  interrupted  by  the 
fall  of  some  object  ('  caduca  auspicia,'  Paul.  p.  64), 
or  by  a  disturbing  noise,  e.g.  the  squeak  of  a  mouse 
(Pliny,  HN  viii.  223),  or  by  a  deprecatory  portent 
(Paul.  p.  64:  'clivia  auspicia  dicebant  quae  aliquid 
fieri  prohibebant '),  e.g.  the  appearance  of  obscenw 
aves  (Serv.  JEn.  iii.  241 ;  Aul.  Cell.  xiii.  14.  6),  such 
as  owls  or  owlets,  the  consultation  was  regarded  as 
having  miscarried,  and  the  action  for  which  Divine 
sanction  was  sought  could  not  be  undertaken  with- 
out a  repetitio  auspiciorum ;  this,  however,  could 
not  usually  take  place  until  the  following  day 
(Livy,  ix.  38.  15,  39.  1). 

Even  when  a  consultation  had  resulted  favour- 
ably, however,  it  was  still  possible  that  the  divinity 
might  in  some  way  interfere  with  the  provisionally 
sanctioned  undertaking  by  sending  intimations  that 
had  not  been  asked  for.  The  range  of  such  auguria 
oblativa  was  very  extensive.  In  the  system  of  the 
augurs  five  varieties  of  signa  were  distinguished, 
viz.  'ex  caelo,'  'ex  avibus,'  'ex  tripudiis,'  'ex 
quadrupedibus,'  and  'ex  diris' (Fest.  p.  261),  but 
this  classification  was  by  no  means  exhaustive. 
An  official  who  was  about  to  discharge  some  duty 
of  State  might  find  a  propitious  or  deprecatory 
sign  in  any  occurrence  in  Nature  or  in  his  imme- 
diate surroundings  which  he  was  willing  to  bring 
into  relation  with  his  intended  action.  Here  lay 
the  vast  province  of  omina — events  which  in  many 
cases  were  of  an  altogether  indefinite  character, 
but  in  which  the  person  concerned  might  read  a 
significance  favourable  to  his  design,  and  which  he 
could,  so  to  speak,  press  into  his  service  by  pro- 
nouncing the  words  'accipio  omen'  (examples  in 
Cic.  deDiv.  i.  103  f.).  Of  the  omens  thus  spon- 
taneously granted,  those  which  were  unfavourable 
were  naturally  of  greater  account  than  the  favour- 
able, as  the  latter  merely  confirmed  the  result  of 
the  antecedent  solicited  auspices,  while  the  former 
actually  reversed  the  Divine  consent  already 
granted,  and  gave  warning  that  the  previously 
sanctioned  course  of  action  should  not  be  carried 
out  or  persisted  in:  'etenim  dirae  {i.e.  all  events 
of  an  abnormal  and  therefore  alarming  nature) 
sicut  cetera  auspicia,  ut  omina,  ut  signa,  non 
causas  adferunt  cur  quid  eveniat,  sed  nuntiant 
eventura,  nisi  provideris'  (ib.  i.  29).  Among  such 
prohibitory  omens,  the  phenomena  of  thunder- 
storms were  regarded  as  of  special  importance. 
The  lightning-flash  was  a  solicited  portent  of  great 
significance,  not  indeed  for  the  divination  of  the 
magistrates,  but  for  certain  priestly  ceremonies  of 
the  augurs  {auguria),  in  which  the  latter  sought  to 
make  sure  of  the  Divine  consent  to  specific  actions 
by  auguria  ccelestia  (Paul.  p.  64) :  with  their  lituus 
they  divided  that  portion  of  the  heavens  lying  within 
their  field  of  vision  into  four  regions  ('antica,' 
'  postica,'  'dextra,'  'sinistra'),  and  then  decided, 
by  a  special  legum  dictio  (Serv.  JEn.  iii.  89),  the 
regions  in  which  the  celestial  signs  were  to  be  re- 
garded as  favourable.  The  best-known  example 
of  this  procedure  is  the  inauguration  of  priests 
which  Livy  (i.  18)  describes  in  full  detail,  but 
Cicero  {de  Leg.  ii.  20)  refers  to  other  auguria  of  a 
similar  kind,  regarding  which  strict  secrecy  was 
maintained  (Paul.  p.  16),  so  that  the  actual  charac- 
ter of  many  of  them,  such  as  the  vernisera  auguria 
(Paul.  p.  379)  and  the  augurium  canarium  (Pliny, 
HN  xviii.  14 ;  Fest.  p.  285 ;  Philarg.  on  Verg. 
Georg.  iv.  425),  is  very  obscure,  while  the  frequently 


824 


DIVINATION  (Roman) 


mentioned  augurium  salutis  (Cic.  de  Div.  i.  105 ; 
Dio  Cass,  xxxvii.  24  f.,  li.  20.  4;  Suet.  Aug.  31; 
Tac.  Ann.  xii.  23)  is  expressly  spoken  of  as  /j-avreias 
ns  rpdiros  (Dio  Cass,  xxxvii.  24.  1),  in  which  the 
divinity  was  asked  whether  it  was  permissible  to 
pray  for  the  salus  publico,.  The  latter  ceremony 
is  referred  to  in  a  cippus  recently  discovered  in 
Borne,  and  bearing  the  inscription  (Notiz.  d.  Scavi, 
1910,  p.  133) :  '  Auguria :  maximum  quo  salus 
p(opuli)  R(omani)  petitur,  quod  actum  est  (here 
follow  the  names  of  the  consuls  in  A.D.  3  and  7), 
quae  acta  sunt  (consuls  of  the  years  1,  2,  8,  12,  and 
17  A.D.).'  In  all  these  augural  rites  the  lightning- 
flash,  and  especially  the  fulmen  sinistrum,  was  a 
highly  favourable  impetrativum  auspicium  (Cic. 
de  Div.  ii.  74 ;  such  an  augural  ceremony  is 
probably  indicated  also  by  the  African  inscrip- 
tion OIL  viii.  774,  bearing  the  representation  of 
a  lightning-flash,  together  with  the  words :  '  Deo 
loci,  ubi' auspicium  dignitatis  tale,  municipes  Api- 
[senses] ' — a  dedication  which  dates,  at  all  events, 
from  the  time  when  the  lightning  was  regarded  as 
a  solicited  sign  even  in  magisterial  divination). 
As  a  spontaneously  given  sign,  on  the  other  hand, 
lightning  was  assumed  to  be  wholly  unfavourable. 
Thus,  a  marriage  by  the  solemn  rite  of  confarreatio 
could  not  be  proceeded  with  if  a  peal  of  thunder 
was  heard  (Serv.  JEn.  iv.  339),  and  the  supreme 
deliberative  assemblies  of  the  Roman  people  were 
subjeot  to  the  principle,  '  love  tonante  fulgurante 
comitia  populi  habere  nefas '  (Cic.  de  Div.  ii.  43 ; 
cf.  in  Vatin.  20 ;  Philipp.  v.  7),  so  that  thunder 
or  lightning  led  to  the  adjournment  of  the  comitia 
as  inevitably  as  did  an  epileptic  seizure  (' morbus 
comitialis '  [Fest.  p.  234]).  It  is  true  that  in  these, 
as  in  all  other  cases  of  the  unsolicited  sign,  it  rested 
with  the  presiding  official  to  decide  whether  he 
would  apply  it  to  the  matter  in  hand  and  take 
account  of  it  (Pliny,  UN  xxviii.  17  ;  Serv.  Mn.  xii. 
260) ;  such  emergencies  fell  under  the  maxim  of 
Cato  the  Elder,  viz.  '  quod  ego  non  sensi,  nullum 
mihi  vitium  facit  '  (Fest.  p.  234) — a  principle  ac- 
cording to  which  the  magistrates  tried  their  best 
to  avoid  the  possibility  of  even  noticing  unwelcome 
signs  (Cic.  de  Div.  ii.  77).  But,  as  such  disregard 
of  Divine  warnings  might  result  in  serious  mischief 
to  the  State,  the  legislature  put  an  obstacle  in  the 
way  of  anything  like  extreme  neglect  of  unfavour- 
able signs  by  enjoining  that  the  magistrates  must, 
without  further  investigation,  take  full  account  of 
all  such  auguria  oblativa  as  were  announced  to 
them  either  by  another  magistrate  ('  obnuntiatio '), 
or  by  the  augur  who  was  officially  in  attendance 
('  nuntiatio').  This  injunction  came  to  have  great 
influence  upon  the  procedure  of  the  comitia,  and 
in  the  political  conflicts  of  the  day  it  became  an 
effective  instrument  of  obstruction,  as  a  meeting 
which  took  a  course  unsatisfactory  to  any  party 
could  be  adjourned  simply  by  an  announcement 
that  a  flash  of  lightning  had  been  seen  (cf.  I.  M.  J. 
Valeton,  'De  iure  obnuntiandi  comitiis  et  conciliis,' 
in  Mnemosyne,  N.S.,  xix.  [1891]  75-113,  229-270). 

This  political  perversion  of  a  statute  which  was 
in  its  origin  the  expression  of  a  religious  sentiment 
is  but  a  symptom  of  that  general  deterioration  of 
the  auspices  which  showed  itself  more  and  more 
during  the  later  years  of  the  Republic.  The 
stringency  of  the  ancient  regulations  was  relaxed 
first  of  all  in  the  army,  and  especially  during  war, 
as  the  conditions  were  then  frequently  most  un- 
favourable for  the  ceremonious  and  protracted 
observation  of  the  flight  of  birds.  For  a  time,  as 
would  appear,  the  place  of  the  traditional  ceremony 
was  taken  by  a  special  auspicium  militare,  which 
involved  some  sort  of  observation  of  spear-points 
('  ex  acuminibus '  [Cic.  de  Nat.  Dear.  ii.  9  ;  Arnob. 
ii.  67]),  but,  when— during  the  Second  Punic  War — 
this  device  had  at  length  been  abandoned  (Cic. 


de  Div.  ii.  77),  every  other  expedient  for  divining 
the  will  of  the  gods  was  superseded  by  the  observa- 
tion of  signa  ex  tripudiis,  i.e.  the  manner  in  which 
fowls  pecked  the  food  strewn  by  the  pullarius 
— the  point  being,  not  simply  that  they  ate,  but 
that  they  fed  so  greedily  that  part  of  what  they 
picked  up  fell  to  the  ground  again  (tripudium  = 
terripavium,  pavire  enim  ferire  est  [Paul.  p.  244  ; 
Cic.  de  Div.  ii.  72]).  Such  accidental  dropping  of 
food  was  formerly  considered  a  favourable  signum 
oblativum,  and  might  as  such  be  mediated  not  only 
by  birds  of  any  kind,  but  also  by  quadrupeds  (Cic. 
de  Div.  ii.  73  ;  Pliny,  HN  viii.  83).  These  pullaria 
atiguria(Serv.  JEn.  vi.  198)  eventually  degenerated 
into  a  mere  form,  especially  as  the  act  of  feeding 
could  be  so  managed  as  greatly  to  influence  the 
result  of  the  signum  (Cic.  ii.  73) ;  and  a  similar 
fate  befell  municipal  divination,  in  which  the 
observation  of  birds  was  at  length  abandoned  in 
favour  of  observation  of  the  sky  (de  cmlo  servare)  ; 
this,  however,  was  performed,  not  by  the  official 
himself,  but  by  his  servant  the  pullarius  ( '  iam  de 
caelo  servare  non  ipsos  censes  solitos,  qui  auspica- 
bantur  ?  nunc  imperant  pullario,  ille  renuntiat ' 
[Cic.  ii.  73]).  On  account  of  the  comparatively 
rare  performance  of  the  augural  ceremonies,  it 
had  been  possible  to  solicit  a  lightning-flash  as  an 
indication  of  Divine  consent,  but  with  the  manifold 
applications  of  magisterial  divination  such  a  de- 
mand could  be  met  only  by  way  of  a  gross  fiction, 
so  that  Cicero  is  perfectly  justified  in  saying  (ii. 
71)  :  '  haec  certe,  quibus  utimur,  sive  tripudio  sive 
de  caelo,  simulacra  sunt  auspiciorum,  auspicia  nullo 
modo.' 

The  performance  of  divination  during  war  came 
to  be  still  further  circumscribed  by  the  circum- 
stance that  in  the  imperium  militia;  the  duty  was 
assigned — from  Sulla's  time  regularly,  and  often 
before — not  to  the  real  functionaries  of  the  auspi- 
cium, i.e.  consuls  and  praetors,  but  to  the  holders 
of  prorogated  authority,  the  proconsuls  and  pro- 
praetors, who  had  no  auspicia  of  their  own  (Cic. 
de  Div.  ii.  77  :  '  ubi  ergo  avium  divinatio  ?  quae, 
quoniam  ab  iis,  qui  auspicia  nulla  habent,  bella 
administrantur,  ad  urbanas  res  retenta  videtur,  a 
bellicis  esse  sublata').  But,  as  it  still  remained 
necessary  to  make  sure  of  the  Divine  sanction 
before  entering  upon  any  decisive  line  of  action, 
divination  by  ordinary  methods  was  superseded  in 
the  field  by  extispicium,  i.e.  the  inspection  of 
entrails  ( '  omitto  nostros,  qui  nihil  in  Dello  sine 
extis  agunt,  nihil  sine  auspiciis  domi '  [Cic.  i.  95  ; 
cf.  28]),  which,  however,  had  been  previously  em- 
ployed as  a  supplementary  expedient ;  thus,  e.g., 
according  to  Livy,  xxvii.  16.  15,  before  Fabius 
Maximus  moved  his  camp  from  Tarentum  to  Meta- 
pontum,  he  first  of  all  inquired  by  means  of  birds, 
and  then,  not  having  received  the  required  indica- 
tion of  Divine  consent,  he  caused  the  haruspex  to 
inspect  the  entrails  of  a  victim.  But  it  should  be 
clearly  understood  that  the  inspection  of  entrails 
as  a  means  of  ascertaining  the  future  was  a  foreign, 
not  a  Roman,  method  of  divination.  It  is  true 
that  the  indigenous  religious  practice  sanctioned 
the  inspection  of  the  exta  of  a  sacrificial  animal — 
not,  however,  for  purposes  of  divination,  but  only 
as  a  part  of  the  requisite  test  applied  to  the  victim 
in  order  to  determine  whether  it  was  acceptable  to 
the  deity  and  suitable  for  a  sacrifice.  In  such 
instances  the  entrails  of  the  victim  were  examined 
in  connexion  with  the  body  as  a  whole  ( '  adhaer- 
entia  exta  inspicere'  [Paul.  p.  100]),  and  boiled  in 
a  pot  (Varro,  de  Ling.  Lat.  v.  98) ;  if  any  ab- 
normality was  discovered,  the  animal  was  regarded 
as  unsuitable,  and  the  sacrifice  could  not  be  validly 
performed — it  did  not  become  a  litatio  ( '  non  per- 
litatum  est').  An  abortive  sacrifice  of  this  sort 
might,  of  course,  bear  the  character  of  a  signum 


DIVINATION  (Roman) 


Bl>5 


oblativum,  and  thus  be  recognized  as  a  Divine 
warning  (as  was  the  case,  e.g.,  in  the  incident 
related  by  Livy,  xli.  15),  and  it  was  therefore 
possible  to  speak  of  auspicia  in  connexion  with 
extispicia  (e.g.  Paul.  p.  244 :  '  pestifera  auspicia 
esse  dicebant,  cum  cor  in  extis  aut  caput  in  iecinore 
non  fuisset');  but,  as  already  said,  this  Roman 
extispicium,  with  its  scrutiny  and  interpretation 
of  entrails,  was  never  resorted  to  for  the  purpose 
of  acquiring  information  as  to  the  course  of  coming- 
events. 

This  function,  however,  was  the  distinctive 
feature  of  the  Etruscan  haruspicina,  which  had 
found  its  way  into  Rome  at  the  time  of  the  Second 
Punic  War,  and  in  process  of  time  gained  so  firm 
a  footing  that  in  the  closing  century  of  the  Re- 
public the  haruspex  became  permanently  attached 
to  the  staff  of  the  commander-in-chief.  The 
Etruscan  haruspicatio  {CIL  vi.  32328,  1.  78)  was 
performed  prior  to  all  important  undertakings, 
such  as  the  departure  of  the  army  for  war,  or  the 
beginning  of  a  battle ;  and  its  object  was,  from 
an  inspection  of  the  entrails  of  a  victim  slaughtered 
expressly  for  the  purpose  (animals  from  which 
'  voluntas  dei  per  exta  exquiritur '  were  called 
consultatorim  hostice  [Serv.  JEn.  iv.  56  ;  Macr. 
Sat.  iii.  5.  1]),  to  deduce  information  regarding  the 
issue  of  the  proposed  action — information  which 
was  not  confined  merely  to  a  presage  of  success  or 
non-success,  but  frequently  extended  to  details, 
as,  e.g.,  an  ambuscade  of  the  enemy  (Livy,  xxvii. 
15.  16),  or  a  case  of  imminent  death  (Ammian. 
Marc.  xxii.  1.  1).  The  interpretation  was  arrived 
at  upon  the  basis  of  a  highly  complex  system  of 
doctrine,  involving  a  most  precise  observation  of 
the  nature,  and  especially  the  abnormalities,  of  the 
victim's  inner  organs — more  particularly  the  liver. 
The  celebrated  bronze  liver  of  Piacenza '  is  a  direct 
survival  from  the  practice  of  the  haruspices,  and, 
by  means  of  its  precise  division  of  the  organ,  with 
its  various  convexities  and  indentations,  and  the 
inscribed  names  of  the  gods  associated  with  the 
several  parts,  gives  us  some  idea  of  the  procedure 
of  the  priests.  Moreover,  the  fact  that  models  of 
the  livers  of  animals,  formed  of  terra  cotta  and 
covered  with  inscriptions,  have  been  found  also  in 
Babylon,2  points  to  a  relationship  between  Etruscan 
and  Chaldsean  haruspicy  which  awaits  a  more 
thorough  investigation. 

The  Etruscan  divination  of  the  future,  which,  as 
we  have  seen,  went  far  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
Roman  practice,  makes  its  influence  felt  likewise 
in  the  official  treatment  of  prodigies,  i.e.  unnatural 
and  alarming  occurrences,  such  as  showers  of 
stones,  earthquakes,  monstrous  births  (see  Pro- 
digies and  Portents  [Rom.]),  regarded  as  signs 
of  Divine  resentment.  To  the  Roman  mind  such 
phenomena  were  an  evidence  that  the  normal 
relations  between  the  community  and  the  higher 
powers  were  disturbed,  as  also  an  admonition  to 
take  the  necessary  steps  towards  retrieving  the 
pax  et  venia  deUrn,  and  those  who  in  such  emerg- 
encies wished  to  ascertain  the  measures  requisite 
to  an  effective  reconciliation  had  recourse  either  to 
the  pontifices,  as  the  custodians  of  the  ancient 
Roman  ritual,  or  to  the  representatives  of  foreign 
cults,  such  as  the  decemviri  (later,  the  xv.  viri) 
sacris  faciundis,  who  were  proficient  in  the  Grcecus 
ritus,  and  the  Etruscan  haruspices  (Cic.  de  Div.  i. 

1  Cf.  W.  Deecke,  Mruskische  Forschungen,  iv.  '  Das  Teraplum 
von  Piacenza,'  Stuttgart,  1880 ;  L.  Stieda,  Anatomisch-archaol. 
Studien,  i.,  Wiesbaden,  1901 ;  G.  Korte,  Rom.  Mitteil.  xx.  (1905) 
348-379 ;  0  Thulin,  '  Die  Gotter  des  Martianus  UapeUa  u.  der 
Bronzeleber  von  Piacenza,'  Religionsgesch.  Versuche  u.  Vorar- 
beiten,  iii.  (Giessen,  1906). 

2  Cf.  A.  Boissier,  Notesurun  monument  babyloniense  rappor- 
tant  &  I'extispicine,  Geneva,  1899,  Note  sur  un  nouveau  docu- 
ment babylonien  se  rapportant  &  i'extispicine,  Geneva,  1901 ; 
cf.  also  C.  Bezold,  in  Religionsgesch.  Versuche  u.  Vorarbeiten, 
ii.  (1906)  246  ff 


97,  9S).  The  liaruspices,  however,  did  not  confine 
themselves  to  a  simple  specification  of  the  means  of 
reconciliation  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  also  under- 
took to  deduce  from  the  character  and  course  of  the 
prodigy  an  answer  to  the  question,  '  quid  portendat 
prodigium  ? '  i.e.  to  discover  the  future  events,  such 
as  civil  war  and  conspiracy  (Cic.  de  Har.  Besp.  18), 
foreboded  by  the  prodigy.  Cicero's  oration  de 
Haruspicium  Response)  gives  us  a  clear  conception 
of  the  matter  and  form  of  such  a  professional  find- 
ing. The  sacred  books  of  the  Etrusca  disciplina 
supplied  full  directions  for  the  interpretation  of 
ostenta,  and  in  particular  they  contained  a  doctrine 
regarding  the  interpretation  of  lightning  which  was 
absolutely  alien  to  the  augural  science  of  the 
Romans.  According  to  Roman  ideas,  the  lightning 
might  be  either  an  augurium  impctrativum  (as  in 
the  sacred  rites  of  the  augurs),  or  an  augurium  obla- 
tivum (as  in  the  proceedings  of  the  magistrates), 
and  in  both  cases  it  required  to  be  weighed  as  a 
token  of  Divine  consent  or  prohibition  ;  or,  again, 
especially  if  it  struck  something  and  wrought 
damage,  it  was  regarded  as  a  prodigium,  and  in 
that  case  had  to  be  rendered  innocuous  by  certain 
acts  of  propitiation.  The  procedure  of  the  Etruscan 
haruspices,  however,  was  of  a  very  different  charac- 
ter (for  their  system,  cf.  e.g.  Pliny,  UN  ii.  138  ff.  ; 
Seneca,  Nat.  Qucest.  ii.  39  ff. ).  They  first  of  all 
ascertained  the  region  of  the  heavens  whence  the 
flash  proceeded,  and  thereby  identified  the  deities 
from  whom  it  came  ;  further,  they  defined  the 
several  kinds  (manubice)  of  lightning-flash  sent 
forth  by  particular  gods,  and  determined  the  place, 
the  time,  the  effect,  etc. ;  then  from  all  these  data 
they  elicited  not  only  the  kind  of  propitiation 
required,  but  also  the  import  of  the  phenomenon. 
Nor  did  they  rest  satisfied  with  a  simple  announce- 
ment that  the  lightning  signified  the  deity's  consent 
to,  or  warning  against,  a  given  design  ( '  consiliaria 
fulmina'  [Seneca,  Nat.  Qumst.  ii.  39.  1]),  but  they 
also  gave  quite  definite  predictions  of  future  events, 
such  as  an  extension  of  the  frontier  and  a  defeat 
of  the  enemy  (Livy,  xlii.  20.  1),  or  the  approach- 
ing death  and  deification  of  the  Emperor  (Suet. 
Aug.  97). 

It  is  a  fact  worthy  of  note  that  this  mode  of 
divination  was  always  regarded  by  the  Romans 
as  outlandish  and  unreliable,  and  this  explains 
why  the  haruspices  were  never  admitted  into  the 
official  priesthood,  and  why  their  teachings  never 
found  a  place  in  the  Roman  disciplina  auguralis  ; 
so  that,  when  the  Senate  wished  to  have  the 
opinion  of  the  haruspices  in  any  particular  case, 
it  summoned  them  from  Etruria  expressly  for  the 
purpose  (the  regular  phrase  for  this  was  '  haru- 
spices acciendos  ex  Etruria'  [Cic.  de  Ear.  Besp. 
25]).  This  proceeding,  however,  must  be  regarded 
in  the  same  light  as  the  action  of  the  Roman  State 
in  sending  ambassadors  to  lay  certain  questions 
before  the  Greek  oracles,  such  as  that  at  Delphi ; 
the  first  deputation  of  this  kind  was  sent  just  after 
the  battle  of  Cannae  (Livy,  xxii.  57.  5,  xxiii.  11.  1). 
Livy's  statements  as  to  still  earlier  consultations  of 
the  Delphic  oracle  (i.  56.  9,  v.  15  f.)  are  rightly 
regarded  by  H.  Diels  (Sibyllinische  Blatter,  Berlin, 
1891,  p.  49,  n.  3)  as  without  foundation  in  fact. 
The  truth  is  that,  in  times  of  severe  national  trial, 
the  Roman  people  habitually  resorted  to  the 
vaticination  of  foreign  cults,  but  they  did  not 
thereby  admit  such  practices  into  their  own  re- 
ligion. The  case  was  different  with  the  so-called 
Sibylline  Oracles  (librifatales),  which  were  authori- 
tatively introduced  into  Rome  as  early  as  the 
period  of  the  Tarquins,  and  had  their  official 
custodians  and  interpreters  in  the  duoviri  (later 
decemviri  and  quindecimviri)  sacris  faciundis.  The 
Sibyllines,  however,  were  not  oracles  in  the  proper 
sense,  but  Ka6ap/M>L ;  i.e.  the  sentences  specified  the 


826 


DIVINATION  (Roman) 


particular  measures — sacrifices,  lectisternia,  sup- 
plications, admission  of  new  cults — by  which  im- 
pending dangers  could  be  turned  aside  and  the 
anger  of  the  gods  appeased  ;  but  actual  predictions 
of  future  events  lay  outside  their  province,  and 
were  first  deduced  from  them  at  a  relatively  late 
period,  the  earliest  known  instance  dating  from 
1S7  B.C.  (Livy,  xxxviii.  45.  3). 

We  may  thus  venture  to  affirm  that  the  aversion 
to  an  over-curious  prying  into  the  unborn  future, 
as  also  to  the  practice  of  consulting  the  Deity  with 
reference  to  coming  events,  was  a  characteristic 
feature  of  ancient  Roman  life,  and  that  the 
Romans  manifested  this  reluctance  in  consider- 
ably greater  measure  than  the  other  peoples  of 
Italy.  For,  as  we  have  seen,  they  asked  no  more 
from  their  auguries  than  an  assurance  of  Divine 
concurrence  with  their  actions,  and  were  unwill- 
ing to  do  anything  in  opposition  to  the  Divine 
counsel,  being  for  the  rest  content  to  abide  the 
issue,  and  seeking  no  further  revelation  of  the 
future.  But,  when  we  bear  in  mind  that  in  times 
of  calamity  even  the  supreme  authorities  suc- 
cumbed to  the  temptation  of  resorting  to  the 
practitioners  of  foreign  divination  for  the  occult 
knowledge  which  their  own  religion  failed  to 
supply,  we  cannot  wonder  that  in  private  life  all 
manner  of  mantic  devices  of  exotic  origin  acquired 
in  process  of  time  a  great  and  growing  influence. 
Cato  the  Elder  already  found  it  necessary  to  insert 
among  his  directions  for  the  conduct  of  an  estate 
steward  (vilicus)  the  warning: '  haruspicem  augurem 
hariolum  Chaldaeum  ne  quem  consuluisse  velit' 
(de  Agri  Cult.  5.  4) ;  while  Cicero  gives  quite  a 
list  of  fortune-tellers  who,  finding  their  clientele 
among  the  middle  and  lower  classes,  made  a  pro- 
fitable trade  of  forecasting  the  future :  '  nunc  ilia 
testabor,  non  me  sortilegos  neque  eos  qui  quaestus 
causa  hariolentur,  ne  psychomantiam  quidem  .  .  . 
agnoscere ;  non  habeo  denique  nauci  Marsum 
augurem,  non  vicanos  haruspices,  non  de  circo 
astrologos,  non  Isiacos  coniectores,  non  interpretes 
somniorum '  (de  Div.  i.  132).  These  references  are 
elucidated  by  evidence  from  the  Imperial  period, 
which  shows  that  the  people  were  in  the  habit  of 
consulting  soothsayers  regarding  such  things  as 
sickness  (Pliny,  Ep.  ii.  20,  2  ff. ),  prospects  of  mar- 
riage (Juven.  vi.  588  ff.),  the  whereabouts  of  run- 
away slaves,  or  the  advisability  of  purchasing  an 
estate  (August,  de  Civ.  Dei,  x.  11).  A  further 
illustration  is  supplied  by  a  collection  of  oracular 
sayings  of  very  general  application — and,  as  it 
would  seem,  from  a  Greek  original — extracted 
from  the  Merobaudes  palimpsest  of  St.  Gall,  and 
published  by  H.  Winnefeld  (Sortes  Sangallenses, 
Bonn,  1887) ;  from  these  sayings  the  inquirer  prob- 
ably selected  his  particular  oracle  by  means  of 
dice. 

The  most  influential  of  these  exponents  of  exotic 
divination  were  the  Chaldcei,  or,  as  they  were  sub- 
sequently styled,  mathematici  (Aul.  Gell.  i.  9.  6),  i.e. 
the  professors  of  Babylonian  astrology,  who  pre- 
saged the  destiny  of  individuals  by  means  of  the 
horoscope  (hence  they  were  also  called  genethliaci 
[ib.  xiv.  1.  1]),  and  gave  information  regarding 
the  future  according  to  the  movements  of  the 
heavenly  bodies.  These  astrologers  were  banished 
from  Rome  and  Italy  for  the  first  time  in  139 
B.C.,  in  consequence  of  an  edict  of  the  Preetor 
peregrinus,  Cn.  Cornelius  Hispalus  (Val.  Max. 
Epit.  i.  3.  3),  but  in  the  Imperial  period,  by  a  long 
series  of  resolutions  passed— often  at  short  inter- 
vals— by  the  Senate,  they  were  made  liable  not 
to  expulsion  only,  but  to  the  severest  penalties 
(Tac.  Ann.  ii.  32,  xii.  52,  Hist.  ii.  62 ;  Dio  Cass.  lxvi. 
9.  2 ;  Ulpian,  Mos.  et  Bom.  leg.  coll.  [1768]  15.  2). 
These  measures,  however,  brought  about  no  con- 
siderable diminution  of  their  activity  (Juven.  vi. 


553  ff. ),  as  their  clientele  included  people  of  the  high- 
est rank,  and  even  the  Emperors  themselves  made 
use  of  their  art.  Hence  Tacitus  (Hist.  i.  22)  could 
with  perfect  justice  speak  of  the  mathematici  as 
'  genus  hominum  potentibus  infidum,  sperantibus 
fallax,  quod  in  civitate  nostra  et  vetabitur  semper 
et  retinebitur. '  In  later  times  it  was  only  the 
seeking  and  giving  of  information  bearing  upon 
the  life  of  the  Emperor  and  the  succession  to  the 
throne — and,  in  the  case  of  slaves,  consultations 
regarding  the  duration  of  their  master's  life — that 
ranked  as  capital  crimes  (Paul.  Sent.  v.  21.  3-4  ; 
Mommsen,  Rom.  Strafrecht,  Leipzig,  1899,  p.  861  ff. )  ; 
and,  indeed,  Alexander  Severus  actually  instituted 
public  chairs  of  astrology  in  Rome,  and  endowed 
them  from  the  national  exchequer  (Hist.  Aug. 
Alex.  Sev.  27.  5;  44.  4).  Then  at  length  Dio- 
cletian, in  A.D.  294,  issued  a  universal  interdict 
against  the  '  ars  mathematiea  damnabilis'  (Cod. 
Just.  ix.  18.  2).  The  death-blow  to  divination  in 
Rome,  however,  was  given  by  the  severe  decree 
(25th  Jan.  A.D.  357)  of  the  Emperor  Constantius 
(Cod.  Theod.  ix.  16.  i  =  Cod.  Just.  ix.  18.  5;  cf. 
also  Cod.  Theod.  ix.  16.  6  and  8)  :  '  Nemo  haru- 
spicem consulat  aut  mathematicum,  nemo  hari- 
olum, augurum  et  vatum  prava  confessio  conti- 
cescat.  Chaldaei  ac  magi  et  ceteri,  quos  maleficos 
ob  facinorum  multitudinem  vulgus  appellat,  nee 
ad  hanc  partem  aliquid  moliantur.  sileat  omnibus 
perpetuo  divinandi  curiositas.  etenim  supplicium 
capitis  feret  gladio  ultore  prostratus,  quicunque 
iussis  obsequium  denegaverit. '  Nevertheless,  in 
spite  of  all  such  repressive  measures,  the  deep- 
seated  craving  of  the  human  heart  for  light  upon 
the  future  still  continued  to  assert  itself,  even 
after  the  triumph  of  Christianity,  as  is  shown  by 
the  zeal  and  vigour  with  which  Christian  evan- 
gelists like  Csesarius  of  Aries  and  Martin  of 
Braeara  made  war  upon  the  vestiges  of  pagan 
divination.  The  first-mentioned  gives  a  long  and 
detailed  list  of  the  various  modes  of  soothsaying 
still  in  vogue  in  his  own  day  (6th  cent.  A.D.)  : 
'  nullus  ex  vobis  caragos  vel  divinos  vel  sortilegos 
requirat  .  .  .  nullus  sibi  praecantatores  adhibeat 
.  .  .  similiter  et  auguria  observare  nolite  nee  in 
itinere  positi  aliquas  aviculas  cantantes  attendite 
nee  ex  lllarum  cantu  diabolicas  divinationes  an- 
nuntiare  praesumite '  (Migne,  PL  xxxix.  2269) ;  to 
these  must  be  added  the  '  sortes  Sanctorum  '  men- 
tioned later  in  the  records  of  Councils  (cf.  R. 
Boese,  Superstitiones  Arelatenses  e  Ccesario  col- 
lects, Marburg,  1909,  p.  42  f.),  i.e.  the  practice 
of  opening  the  Scriptures  at  random  in  order  to 
find  a  sentence  which  might  furnish  the  solution 
of  a  stubborn  dilemma  or  give  information  regard- 
ing the  future  ( '  qui  de  paginis  evangelicis  sortes 
legunt'  [August.  Ep.  lv.  37,  p.  212,  3,  Goldbacher]) 
— a  device  which  Augustine  himself  had  employed 
(Conf.  viii.  12.  29),  and  which  was  at  an  earlier 
day  applied  in  exactly  the  same  way  to  the  works 
of  the  ancient  poets,  especially  Vergil  (ib.  iv. 
3.  5).     Cf.  art.  DIVINATION  (Christian). 

Literature. — A.  Bouche-Leclercq,  Hist,  de  la  divination 
dans  I'antiquitt,  iv.  '  Divination  italique,'  Paris,  1882.  For 
auspicia  and  auguria :  Th.  Mommsen,  Rom.  Staatsrecht2, 
Leipzig,  1876-77,  i.  73-114;  I.  M.  J.  Valeton,  '  De  modis 
auspicandi  Romanorum,'  in  Mnemosyne,  N.S.,  xvii.  (1889) 
275-325,  418-462,  xviii.  (1890)  208-263,  406-456,  '  De  inaugu- 
rationibus  Romanis  caerinioniaruni  et  sacerdotum,'  ib.  xix. 
(1891)  405-460;  G.  Wissowa,  in  RE  ii.  2325-2342,  2580- 
2587,  Religion  u.  Kultur  d.  Ramer,  Leipzig,  1902,  pp.  323  f., 
451  ff.  For  extispicium  and  haruspicina :  G.  Blecher,  '  De 
extispioio  capita  tria,'  in  Religionsgesch.  Versuche  u.  Vorar- 
beiten,  ed.  A.  Dieterich  and  R.  Wunsch,  ii.  4_,  Giessen,  1905  ; 
C.  O.  Thulin,  '  Die  etruskische  Disciplin  :  i.  Die  Blitzlehre,'  in 
Goteb.  Eogsh.  Arsskr.  xi.  5,  Gothenburg,  1906,  ii.  '  Die  Haru- 
spicin,'  ib.  xii.  1,  1906,  iii.  '  Die  Ritualbiicher  und  zur  Ge- 
schichte  und  Organisation  der  Haruspices,'  ib.  xiv.  1,  1909 ; 
Wissowa,  op.  cit.  469  ff.  For  astrology  :  A.  Bouche-Leclercq, 
L' Astrologie  greeque,  Paris,  1899  ;  W.  Kroll,  '  Aus  der  Gesch. 
d.  Astrologie,'  in  Neue  Jahrbucherf.  d.  Mass.  Altert.  vii.  (1901) 
669-677  ;    F.  Boll,    '  Die  Erforschung  d.  antiken  Astrologie,' 


DIVINATION  (Teutonic) 


sn 


ib.  xxi.  (1908)  103-126 ;  F.  Cumont,  Les  Religions  orientates 
dans  le  paganisme  romain,  Paris,  1907  [Germ.  tr.  by  G.  Gehrich, 
Leipzig  and  Berlin,  1910,  pp.  191-214]. 

G.  WlSSOWA. 
DIVINATION  (Teutonic).—  Tacitus  (Germ,  x.) 
9tates  that  the  German  tribes  practised  augury  and 
divination  by  lot  as  much  as  any  people.  He  pro- 
ceeds to  describe  the  latter,  which,  ne  says,  was 
used  in  both  public  and  private  life,  and  which  from 
other  references  appears  to  have  been  a  common 
custom.  He  says  tliat  it  consisted  in  picking  up 
and  interpreting  chips  of  wood  that  were  inscribed 
with  some  kind  of  signs  (which  may  possibly  have 
been  runic  characters),  and  that  had  been  scattered 
haphazard : 

'If  the  twigs  prove  unfavourable,  the  matter  is  left  over  for 
that  day  ;  while,  even  if  they  are  favourable,  the  confirmation 
of  augury  is  still  required.  For  they  are  also  familiar  with  the 
practice  of  consulting  the  notes  and  the  flight  of  birds  ;  and  it 
is  a  characteristic  of  this  people  to  seek  warnings  and  omens 
from  horses.  There  are  kept  at  the  public  expense,  in  the  woods 
and  groves,  white  horses,  free  from  all  taint  of  human  labour ; 
these,  yoked  to  a  consecrated  chariot,  are  accompanied  by  the 
priest  and  king  or  chief  person  of  the  community,  who  observe 
their  manner  of  neighing  and  snorting.  Nor  is  there  greater 
reliance  on  any  form  of  augury,  both  among  the  common  people, 
the  nobility,  and  even  the  priests ;  for  they  regard  themselves 
as  the  ministers  of  the  gods,  the  horses  as  acquainted  with  their 
will.' 

We  may  compare  a  passage  in  the  Flateyjarbok 
(saga  of  Olaf  Trygvason,  322),  where  we  hear  of 
horses  sacred  to  Frey  at  a  sanctuary  in  the 
Throndhjem  fiord.  In  the  sagas  we  hear  also  of 
wolves  being  used  in  augury,  but  the  majority  of 
the  instances  are  concerned  with  birds,  usually  the 
raven.  This  bird  was  evidently  considered  to 
possess  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  events,  and  is 
specially  connected  with  battle  ;  should  one  be 
heard  thrice  screaming  on  the  roof,  it  bodes  death 
to  warriors  ;  but  the  appearance  of  ravens  following 
a  host  or  a  single  warrior  will  bring  good  luck  in 
battle. 

A  striking  instance  of  the  significance  of  the 
raven  occurs  in  the  saga  of  Olaf  Trygvason  in  the 
Heimskringla.  Earl  Hakon,  after  the  defeat  at 
Danevirke,  made  a  great  blood-sacrifice,  and  '  there 
came  two  ravens  flying,  which  croaked  loudly,  and 
now,  thought  the  earl,  the  blood-offering  has  been 
accepted  by  Odin,  and  he  thought  good  luck  would 
be  with  him  any  day  he  liked  to  go  into  battle ' 
(tr.  Laing).  Here  the  two  birds  were  perhaps 
supposed  to  have  been  Odin's  own  ravens,  Hugin 
and  Munin,  from  whom  he  learnt  all  that  was  going 
on  in  the  world.  In  this  connexion  we  may  men- 
tion the  raven  banner  of  the  Northmen  described 
in  Anglo-Saxon  records ;  it  was  woven  of  plain 
white  silk,  but  on  it  in  war  time  there  became 
visible  a  raven,  which  by  its  drooping  or  flapping 
wings  portended  defeat  or  victory. 

Augury  from  the  voices  of  birds  is  frequently 
found  in  the  form  of  a  belief  that  certain  specially 
gifted  persons  could  understand  the  language  of 
birds.  Procopius  (de  Bell.  Goth.  iv.  20)  gives  the 
story  of  Hermigiselus,  king  of  the  Varni,  who 
interpreted  the  loud  and  incessant  croaking  of  a 
bird  as  presaging  his'  own  death.  In  the  sagas 
various  birds  act  thus  as  soothsayers — the  raven, 
the  crow,  and  the  nut-hatch.  Thus  in  the  poem 
Fafnismal,  Sigurdr,  after  tasting  Fafnir's  blood,  is 
able  to  understand  the  speech  of  certain  nut- 
hatches which  warn  him  of  the  treachery  prepared 
by  Keginn ;  and  the  Ynglinga  Saga  gives  the 
legend  of  a  certain  king  Dag  who  had  a  sparrow 
which  he  greatly  valued,  since,  like  Odin's  ravens, 
it  flew  to  different  countries  and  brought  him  much 
news. 

Divination  appears  to  have  been  largely  practised 
by  ;  wise  women,'  both  among  the  early  Teutonic 
peoples  of  the  Continent,  and  in  later  times  in  the 
North.  Strabo  (bk.  VII.  ch.  ii.  [p.  294])  states  that 
the  Cimbri  were  accompanied  to  war  by  grey-haired 


prophetesses,  who  presaged  victory  in  battle  from 
the  blood  and  entrails  of  slaughtered  prisoners  ; 
Tacitus  has  several  references  to  the  prophetess 
Veleda,  who  was  held  in  much  reverence  by  the 
Bructeri,  and  who  had  predicted  the  success  of  the 
Germans  and  the  destruction  of  the  legions ;  and 
Csesar  and  other  writers  also  refer  to  the  divina- 
tions of  '  wise  women  '  among  the  Teutonic  armies. 

In  the  sagas,  too,  we  hear  of  the  '  wise  woman,' 
such  as  Thorbjorg,  who,  in  the  saga  of  Eirik 
Kaudha,  visits  the  house  of  Thorkel.  She  has  a 
special  dress,  seat,  and  food,  and  further  requires 
one  of  the  women  of  the  house  to  sing  the 
'  warlocks,'  or  spell  song.  Then  she  predicts  the 
end  of  the  sickness  and  famine,  and  foretells  the 
future  of  many  of  the  people. 

In  addition  to  these  forms,  we  have  vague 
references  to  some  sort  of  inquiry  of  the  gods, 
accompanied  by  sacrifices  ;  as,  for  example,  in  the 
Eyrbyggia  Saga,  where  Th6rolf  of  the  Mostr  makes 
a  great  sacrifice  and  consults  Thor,  'his  well- 
beloved  friend,'  as  to  whether  he  shall  emigrate  or 
make  peace  with  the  king,  '  but  the  word  showed 
Th6rolf  to  Iceland.' 

We  hear  also  of  divination  by  dreams,  and  of 
the  practice  of  single  combat,  as  a  kind  of  ordeal 
by  battle,  to  decide  disputes,  which  Tacitus  (loc. 
cit. )  states  was  also  used  to  presage  the  result  of  a 
war. 

Literature. — Corpus  Poeticum  Boreale,  ed.  Vigfusson  and 
Powell,  Oxford,  1883  ;  J.  Grimm,  Teutonic  Mythology,  London, 
1880  (tr.  Stallybrass) ;  Sagas,  passim,  especially  Flateyjarbok, 
ed.  Vigfusson  and  Myer,  Christiania,  1868,  and  Heimskringla, 
tr.  Laing,  London,  1844 ;  Caesar,  de  Bell.  Gall.  i.  50 :  Tacitus, 
Qermania,  viii.,  x.,  Hist.  iv.  61,  65 ;  Procopius,  de  Bell.  Goth. 
iv.  20 ;  Ammianus  iMarcellinus,  xiv.  9, 10  ;  Agathias,  ii.  6. 

C.  J.  Gaskell. 

DIVINATION  (Vedic).  —  The  Vedic  art  of 
divination,  when  contrasted  with  the  Greek  art, 
presents  striking  differences.  Institutions  compar- 
able with  the  wide-reaching  influence  of  the  Greek 
oracles  were  never  developed,  and,  while  the  gift 
of  prophecy  could,  like  other  mystic  powers,  be 
acquired  and  increased  by  religious  austerities 
(cf.  Mahabharata,  3.  16,870,  Calc.  ed.),  still  the 
power  of  seeing  what  is  hidden,  especially  what 
is  hidden  in  the  future,  depended  in  the  main  not 
on  inspiration  or  personal  gifts,  but  on  the  know- 
ledge of  how  to  interpret  certain  omina  and  por- 
tenta.  The  chief  reason  for  this  fact  must  be 
sought  in  the  great  development  of  the  other 
branches  of  magic  (cf.  MAGIC  [Ved.]).  A  man  who 
is  in  possession  of  the  magical  means  to  acquire  any 
desired  blessing  has  little  reason  to  inquire  what 
the  future  has  in  store.  Indeed,  his  only  motive 
for  inquiring  about  the  future  can  be  to  learn  when 
danger  is  impending,  in  order  that  he  may  avert 
it  by  the  timely  performance  of  the  necessary  rites. 
It  was  primarily  to  this  need  that  the  observance 
of  omens  and  portents  in  India  was  due,  though 
further  development  was  sure  to  follow,  as  the 
attempt  to  dehne  an  evil  portent  leads  of  itself 
to  the  observation  of  favourable  omens. 

The  omens  and  portents  recognized  in  the  Vedic 
system  of  divination  may  be  classified  as  follows : 
(1)  ominous  appearances  and  actions  of  animals, 
especially  birds — Sakuna ;  (2)  phenomena  at  vari- 
ance with  the  usual  course  of  Nature — adbhuta ; 
(3)  physical  marks  —  laksana;  (4)  omens  of  an 
astrological  nature ;  (5)  omens  drawn  from  occur- 
rences at  the  sacrifice  ;  and  (6)  dreams. 

With  regard  to  the  omens  drawn  from  the  sacri- 
fice, it  must  be  noted  that,  while  they  depend  in 
part  upon  things  not  wholly  subject  to  the  regu  ■ 
ration  of  the  celebrant  (e.g.  the  movements  and 
colour  of  the  fire),  in  part  they  depend  upon  things 
that  are  subject  to  his  will  (e.g.  when  it  is  stated 
that  Parjanya  will  give  rain  if  both  or  one  of  the 
bulls    that    draw    the    cart    is    black    [Satapalha 


828 


DIVINATION  (Vedic) 


Brahmana,  3.  3.  4.  11]),  and  so  pass  over  by  almost 
imperceptible  transitions  from  divinatory  obser- 
vances into  directions  about  the  sacrificial  technique 
required  to  obtain  a  desired  object.  This  subject 
will  be  referred  to  in  other  articles  (cf.,  e.g.,  art. 
Deeams  [Vedic]),  and  the  present  article  will  be 
devoted  to  the  ceremonies  the  purpose  of  which 
is  the  attainment  of  knowledge  {vijnana),  usually 
of  future  events,  which  is  unattainable  by  natural 
means. 

1.  Sources. — As  was  to  be  expected,  the  chief 
source  for  such  ceremonies  is  the  KauHka  Sutra, 
which  is  supplemented  by  an  interesting  chapter 
in  the  Samavidhana  Brahmana,  3.  4.  Sporadic 
instances  occur  in  other  Vedic  texts,  sufficient  to 
show  that  such  practices  were  not  confined  to  these 
two  schools,  ana  that  the  reason  why  they  are  not 
more  frequently  mentioned  in  other  texts  is  to  be 
sought  in  the  nature  of  the  literature. 

2.  The  ceremonies. — The  most  widely  attested 
vijnana-ceremony  is  the  test  of  the_bride,  advised 
or  enjoined  by  the  Grhya  Sutras  (Asvalayana,  1. 
5.  4-5  ;  Gobhila,  2.  1.  3-9  ;  Apastambiya,  3.  14-17  ; 
Manava,  1.  7.  9-10;  Kathaka,  14;  Bharadvaja,  1. 
1 1  [the  last  two  in  Caland,  p.  127,  n.  8] ;  Kausika, 
37.  7-10;  cf.  Winternitz,  Das  altind.  Rochzeits- 
rituell,  1892,  p.  37).  It  is  based  upon  the  prin- 
ciple of  attractio  similium,  and  consists  in  offering 
from  four  to  nine  clods  of  earth,  taken  from  differ- 
ent places,  to  the  bride,  whose  choice  is  ominous. 
Asvalayana's  list  is  typical,  and  comprises  clods 
from  a  field  that  yields  two  crops  a  year,  from  the 
stable  of  a  cow,  from  a  vedi  (altar),  from  an  undry- 
ing  pool,  from  a  gambling-place,  from  cross-roads, 
from  a  barren  spot,  and  from  a  cemetery.  They 
signify  respectively  that  the  bride's  offspring  will 
be  rich  in  food,  rich  in  cattle,  rich  in  holy  lustre, 
rich  in  everything,  addicted  to  gambling,  wander- 
ing in  different  directions  (according  to  Kausika, 
that  she  will  be  unfaithful),  poor,  and  the  cause  of 
the  death  of  her  husband  (according  to  Kausika,  that 
she  will  not  live  long).  When  there  is  a  ninth  clod 
(Gobhila  and  Kathaka),  it  is  mixed  of  all  these 
substances.  The  ceremony  is  recommended  when 
it  is  impossible  to  determine  the  bride's  qualities 
from  the  marks  on  her  body  (laksanani),  but 
Apastamba  implies  that  her  family  have  a  right 
to  object  to  this  test.  An  alternative  in  Kausika, 
37.  11-12,  is  to  require  the  bride  to  pour  out  a 
handful  of  water  that  has  been  blessed.  If  she 
does  this  in  an  easterly  direction  it  is  a  good  omen. 

"With  this  may  be  compared  the  practices  for  the 
purpose  of  seeing  whether  the  ground  selected  for  a 
house  is  suitable  (Apast.  GS  2.  8.  1-8),  though  these 
may  appear  to  us  practical  rather  than  magical, 
and  the  impression  is  strengthened  by  the  absence 
of  all  religious  elements  from  the  ceremony.  A 
pit  is  dug  and  refilled.  If  the  earth  more  than 
refills  it,  the  site  is  good ;  if  it  fails  to  fill  it,  the 
site  is  bad ;  if  it  fills  it  exactly,  the  site  is  indif- 
ferent. Or,  after  sunset,  the  pit  is  filled  with 
water.  If,  in  the  morning,  there  is  water  still  in 
it,  the  site  is  good  ;  if  the  ground  is  dry,  it  is  bad  ; 
and  if  it  is  moist,  it  is  indifferent. 

Another  method  of  divination  in  the  Kausika, 
with  parallels  in  the  hieratic  literature,  is  based 
upon  the  wide-spread  belief  that  a  man's  reflexion 
or  shadow  is  part  of  his  personality.  Hence,  when 
one  cannot  see  his  reflexion,  his  spirit  is  gone  (he  is 
gatasu,  itasu,  or  gatamanas),  and  he  is  in  danger 
of  death.  The  Kausika,  15.  9-10,  employs  this 
idea  as  follows:  Before  a  battle  the  king  causes 
his  warriors  to  look,  two  by  two,  into  a  vessel  of 
water  over  which  Atharva  Veda,  5.  2.  6,  has  been 
recited ;  if  any  warrior  does  not  see  his  reflexion 
he  must  not  take  part  in  the  approaching  battle. 
Similar  applications  of  this  idea  are  found  in 
Taittiriya  Samhita.  6.  6.  7.  1  ;  Maitrayani  Samhita, 


4.  7.  2 ;  Asvalayana  Srauta  Sutra,  5.  19.  5 ;  Apas- 
tamba SS.  13.  14.  3.  4 ;  Katyayana  &S.  3.  3.  6  (cf. 
Oldenberg,  p.  526,  n.  4). 

Another  method  of  divination  practised  before  a 
battle  is  as  follows :  Three  ropes,  made  of  bow- 
strings, are  laid  upon  heated  coals,  and  Athar.  Ved. 

5.  6  is  recited  over  them.  The  middle  string  repre- 
sents death,  the  other  strings  the  two  armies.  If  the 
middle  string  passes  over  one  of  the  other  strings 
it  forebodes  the  defeat  of  that  army  ;  if  one  of  the 
outside  strings  passes  over  the  middle  string  it 
signifies  the  victory  of  the  army  it  represents. 
Further  auguries  as  to  the  rank  of  the  men  who 
will  fall  are  drawn  from  the  portion  of  the  string 
that  curls — the  top,  middle,  and  bottom  of  the 
strings  denoting  men  of  similar  standing.  Reed- 
stalks  (isika)  may  be  used  instead  of  the  ropes  (cf. 
Kausika,  15.  15-18).  The  Samavidhana  Brahmana 
(3.  4.  10)  attains  the  same  purpose  in  the  following 
manner :  each  contestant  is  represented  by  a  pile 
of  glowing  smokeless  coals ;  these  are  sprinkled  at 
the  same  time  with  ghi.  He  will  be  victorious 
whose  pile  first  blazes  up  with  flames  free  from 
smoke  and  moving  from  left  to  right. 

To  learn  who  will  live  long  (jivita-vij'nana)  the 
same  text  (3.  4.  11)  proceeds  in  a  similar  way,  but 
in  this  case  the  ghi  must  be  made  from  woman's 
milk  and  churned  on  the  same  day.  The  favour- 
able omen  in  this  case  is  for  one's  pile  to  burn 
longest.  For  the  same  purpose  the  Kausika, 
15.  13-14,  directs  that  three  ropes  of  bowstrings 
be  laid  on  heated  coals ;  if  they  curl  upwards  it 
is  a  good  omen. 

Another  augury  before  the  setting  out  of  a  war- 
like expedition  is  to  produce  an  inauspicious  smoke 
by  sprinkling  grass  with  ihgida-oi\,  reciting  certain 
hymns  over  it,  and  burning  it  with  an  uncanny 
fire  (for  these  details  cf.  art.  Witchcraft  [Ved.]). 
The  expedition  will  conquer  the  region  towards 
which  the  smoke  goes  (cf.  Kausika,  14.  30-31). 

The  direction  in  which  a  lost  object  must  be 
sought  is  discovered  in  the  following  ways :  A 
water  pitcher  is  covered  with  a  new  cloth  and 
placed  upon  a  bed  which  is  not  in  its  usual  position, 
and  the  leavings  of  an  offering  made  with  recita- 
tion of  Athar.  Ved.  2.  1  are  poured  over  it.  The 
faces  of  two  girls  who  have  not  yet  menstruated 
are  covered  with  a  cloth  so  that  they  cannot  see, 
and  they  are  told  to  remove  the  pitcher.  The  lost 
object  is  in  the  direction  in  which  they  carry  the 
pitcher.  Dice  may  be  used  instead  of  the  pitcher 
and  a  plough  instead  of  the  bed  (cf.  Kausika, 
37.  4-6).  Another  method  consists  of  throwing 
down  and  spreading  out  at  cross-roads  twenty-one 
pebbles  blessed  with  Athar.  Ved.  7.  9,  but  how 
they  indicate  the  direction  is  not  specified  (cf. 
Kausika,  52.  12  ff.). 

Whether  a  woman  will  get  a  husband  is  ascer- 
tained by  tying  calves  to  a  seven-ply  rope,  smeared 
with  the  leavings  of  an  offering  made  with  recita- 
tion of  Athar.  Ved.  2.  36,  and  bidding  her  loose 
them.  If  she  does  so  in  order  from  left  to  right 
she  will  marry  (cf.  Kausika,  34.  17).  The  direction 
from  which  the  wooer  will  come  is  discovered  by 
letting  loose  a  steer,  whose  head  is  covered  with  a 
new  cloth  on  which  have  been  placed  the  leavings 
of  an  offering  made  with  recitation  of  Athar.  Ved. 
2.  36  (cf.  Kausika,  34.  18-19).  The  same  informa- 
tion is  gained,  at  an  oblation  offered  at  dawn  to 
Aryaman  to  obtain  a  husband  for  one's  sister,  by 
observing  the  direction  from  which  the  crows  come 
(cf.  Kausika,  34.  21-24). 

The  sex  of  a  child  is  foretold  by  placing  four 
fruits  of  the  flax  plant  in  the  mother's  hand,  bless- 
ing them  with  Athar.  Ved.  1.11,  and  pouring  water 
over  them.  If  they  adhere  to  one  another  the  child 
will,  for  obvious  reasons,  be  a  boy.  Or  the  priest 
may  whisper  the  same  hymn  over  the  son   of  a 


DIVINATION  (Vedic) 


829 


Brahman  and  order  him  to  touch  the  mother.  If 
the  name  of  the  limh  touched  is  grammatically 
masculine,  the  child  will  he  a  hoy  (cf.  Kausika, 
33.  17-20).  The  conclusions  drawn  from  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  root  of  a  plant  dug  for  a  charm 
to  secure  easy  delivery,  and  from  the  fact  that  the 
symbolical  drawing  apart  of  the  muitja-giaaa  is 
accomplished  without  tearing  them,  are  to  be 
considered  as  the  observance  of  omens  rather  than 
charms  of  divination  (Kausika,  33.  12.  3). 

The  prediction  of  the  weather  was  an  especial 
object  of  divination,  and  apparently  undertaken 
by  means  of  the  smoke  of  burning  dung.  The 
idea  readily  passed  into  the  form  that  the  weather 
prophet  controlled  the  weather.  Hence,  Athar. 
Ved.  6. 128  says  :  '  When  the  stars  made  Sakadhuma 
(he  who  predicts  the  weather  from  the  smoke  of 
dung)  their  king,  they  bestowed  good  weather 
upon  him.  ' '  This  shall  be  his  dominion,"  they  said.' 
The  hymn  is  employed  in  Kausika,  50.  15-16,  for  the 
propitiation  of  Sakadhuma  by  one  who  is  about  to 
start  on  a  journey  (cf.  Bloomfieid,  AJPh  vii.  484  ft.). 
Among  the  Parisistas  of  the  Atharva  Veda  is  also 
a  text  entitled  Sadyovrstilaksana,  and  devoted  to 
the  signs  of  rain  that  will  come  immediately. 

In  addition  to  these,  the  Kausika  has  a  number 
of  charms  for  obtaining  the  answer  to  any  question. 
They  are  referred  to  briefly,  with  imbrication  of  the 
hymns  required,  in  Kausika  37.  1-3,  but  fuller 
details  are  given  in  the  commentary  of  Kesava. 
The  first  is  as  follows.  The  questioner  thinks  either 
to  himself  or  aloud  of  the  question  he  wishes  an- 
swered. Then  he  recites  a  hymn  over  a  milk- 
porridge  ;  while  it  is  cooking  he  thinks,  '  This 
porridge  is  done,'  or  'This  porridge  is  not  done.' 
If  he  has  guessed  correctly,  the  answer  to  the 
original  question  will  be  according  to  his  wish. 
Similarly,  the  answer  may  be  made  to  depend 
upon  whether  a  substance  laid  upon  heated  coals 
will  curl  upwards  or  not ;  whether  the  number  of 
blades  in  a  bunch  of  grass  is  odd  or  even  ;  whether 
a  flower  will  close  on  the  day  after  a  hymn  has 
been  recited  over  it ;  whether  he  can  foretell  the 
direction  in  which  a  reed  or  arrow  shot  straight 
upwards  will  fall,  or  the  side  towards  which  a 
yoke  or  kampila  -  branch  (Crinum  amaryllacew) 
balanced  on  his  head  will  fall  ;  whether  the 
quantity  of  milk  he  takes  will  be  sufficient  to 
fill  to  overflowing  a  vessel  partly  filled  with  water  ; 
whether  the  smoke  from  the  fire  moves  from  left 
to  right,  or  vice  versa  ;  whether  he  can  foretell  the 
throw  of  the  dice ; 1  whether  he  can  divide  twenty- 
one  pebbles  into  two  heaps  in  such  a  way  that  the 
odd  and  even  numbers  will  be  in  the  hand  that  he 
expected. 

On  the  same  principle  rest  two  charms  of  the 
Samavidhana  Brahmana,  3.  4.  9  and  6.  Two  heaps  of 
unhusked  grains  are  designated  respectively  as  '  to 
be'  and  'not  to  be,'  and  the  person  who  is  consult- 
ing the  oracle  is  told  to  take  his  choice.  Or  the 
celebrant  orders  two  pupils  (brahmacharins)  to 
raise  two  bamboo  _poles  ;  if  they  bend  (as  he  ex- 
pects them  to  do),  it  is  a  sign  of  success.  In  both 
of  these  cases  the  necessary  magic  potency  is  im- 
parted to  the  apparatus  by  the  celebrant  keeping  it 
with  him  over  night,  and  singing  over  it  a  certain 
saman.  At  dawn  this  saman  is  sung  again,  and 
the  test  takes  place.  In  the  same  way,  a  maiden 
who  has  not  yet  menstruated  is  enabled  to  see  the 
future  in  a  mirror  or  spoonful  of  water  (3.  4.  4,  5) ; 
a  rod  is  made  to  forebode  success  by  growing  longer 
in  the  night  (3.  4.  7) ;  and  the  seeds  that  will  thrive 
are  distinguished  by  their  increase  of  weight  on  the 
night  of  the  full  moon  of  the  month  of  Asadha 
(3.  4.  8). 

1  For  a  late  text  containing  elaborate  oracles  from  dice,  cf. 
Weber,  '  Ueber  ein  indisches  Wurfel-Orakel,'  Indische  Streifen, 
i.  (Berlin,  1868)  274  ft. 


As  an  example  of  such  practices  in  a  iraula-text 
may  be  cited  Taittiriya  Sarhhita,  3.  3.  8.  4,  where 
directions  are  given  to  cook  a  cake  of  a  certain  size 
on  the  elcastaka  (the  first  or  last  night  of  the  year), 
and  in  the  morning  to  attempt  to  set  fire  with  it  to 
a  thicket.  If  the  thicket  burns,  it  will  be  a  lucky 
year.  The  same  text  also  (ii.  509 ;  Hiranyakesin 
SS.  22.  13-14)  employs  a  horse  as  a  weather  pro- 
phet. But  the  ceremony  enjoined  in  Gobhila  GS 
4.  8.  14  If. — one  goes  out  of  the  village  in  an  easterly 
or  northern  direction,  and  erects  at  cross-roads  or 
on  a  mountain  a  pile  of  the  dung  of  wild  beasts, 
sets  it  on  fire,  sweeps  the  coals  away,  and  makes 
an  oblation  of  butter  with  his  mouth  :  if  the  butter 
catches  fire,  he  will  get  twelve  villages ;  if  it 
smokes,  three — is  less  a  means  of  divination  than 
a  charm  to  effect  the  desired  purpose,  combined 
with  an  augury  from  the  ceremony,  comparable 
with  such  practices  as  those  of  Kausika,  19.  21, 
47.  29,  and  others. 

In  looking  back  upon  these  performances,  certain 
common  features  maybe  observed:  (1)  A  religious 
or  quasi-religious  ceremony  is  necessary  to  impart 
efficacy  to  the  apparatus.  (2)  The  general  principle 
upon  which  most  of  them  rest  is  the  idea  that,  an 
association  being  established  between  two  ques- 
tions, the  answer  to  the  one  will  be  the  answer 
to  the  other,  or  that  the  person  can  answer  both 
correctly  who  can  answer  one  correctly.  This  is 
but  a  particular  application  of  the  fundamental 
principles  of  magic,  that  the  part  may  be  substi- 
tuted for  the  whole,  and  that  objects  connected 
in  any  way,  even  though  merely  by  an  association 
of  ideas,  constitute  a  whole.  (3)  It  is  noteworthy 
that  none  of  the  mantras  seems  to  have  been  prim- 
arily intended  for  the  purpose  for  which  they  are 
here  employed.  (4)  There  is  a  marked  tendency 
for  the  charms  to  pass  from  an  inquiry  about  the 
future  into  a  means  of  compelling  a  desired  end. 

In  some  cases  the  indication  of  success  is  the 
occurrence  of  what  we  would  term  a  miracle,  e.g.  a 
growing  rod,  seeds  increasing  in  weight.  This  idea 
is  employed  in  several  forms  of  the  ordeal  (daivya, 
divya),  while  in  other  cases  the  ordeal  is  merely  a 
particularly  intensified  form  of  oath.  Hence  it  is 
also  called  iapatha,  literally  '  oath '  or  '  self -curse. ' 

In  reality  the  ordeal  is  but  a  particular  form  of 
divination,  the  question  being  the  guilt  or  innocence 
of  a  suspected  man.  In  view  of  the  occurrence  of 
this  belief  among  other  Indo  -  European  peoples 
(Schrader,  Beallex.  der  indogerm.  Altertumskunde, 
s.v.  '  Gottesurtheil '),  it  is  surprising  to  find  only 
two  incidental  allusions  to  the  practice  in  Vedic 
literature.  The  first  of  these  is  Pafiehavirhsa  Brah- 
mana, 14.  6.  6,  where  the  story  is  told  of  how  the 
Rsi  Medhatithi  taunted  the  Ksi  Vatsa  with  being 
not  a  Brahman,  but  the  son  of  a  Sudra  woman. 
The  latter  proposed  that  they  should  both  pass 
through  the  fire  to  see  which  was  the  better  Brah- 
man. They  did  so,  each  singing  the  saman  that 
bears  his  name,  and  Vatsa  emerged  without  losing  a 
hair,  for  that  was  his  wish,  and  the  Vatsa  saman  is  a 
winner  of  wishes.  The  other  passage  is  Chhandogya 
Upanisad,  6.  16.  1-3,  where  the  trial  of  a  man  ac- 
cused of  theft,  by  a  form  of  the  fire  ordeal  in  which 
the  instrument  is  a  heated  axe,  is  employed  as  a 
parable.  Another  passage,  Kausika,  52.  8,  may  bear 
upon  the  question.  Among  the  practices  assigned 
to  the  hymn  Athar.  Ved.  6.  106,  which  is  used  to 
prevent  or  heal  the  effects  of  fire,  is  the  sutra, 
sapyamdnaya  prayachchhati.  Sayana,  who  is  fol- 
lowing Kesava,  and  who  is  followed  in  turn  by 
Caland,  explains  that  in  place  of  the  taptamasa 
ordeal  (cf.  below),  the  celebrant  must  recite  the 
hymn  over  the  oil  or  other  substance  employed 
before  handing  it  to  the  person  who  is  undergoing 
the  ordeal.  This  interpretation  cannot  be  correct, 
as  such  magical  aids  are  especially  forbidden  in 


830 


DIVINE  RIGHT 


the  case  of  the  visa  ordeal ;  and,  according  to  the 
paribhasa  (general  rule),  Kausika,  7.  7,  the  siitra 
must  mean  that  the  hymn  is  recited  over  a  stirred 
drink  and  porridge  which  are  given  to  the  s"apya- 
mana.  If  it  has  anything  to  do  with  the  ordeal,  it 
must  refer  to  a  secret  preparation,  which  would 
have  been  forbidden  had  it  been  detected.  In  this 
sense  the  middle,  not  the  passive  participle,  should 
have  been  employed,  and  it  is  best  to  give  to  the 
word  the  general  sense  of  '  one  who  is  suffering 
from  a  curse.'  That  in  later  times  the  ceremony 
may  have  been  performed  especially  by  those  about 
to  undergo  with  guilty  consciences  the  taptamasa 
(and  agni  1)  ordeal  is  not  improbable,  and  Kesava 
may  be  accepted  as  a  witness  to  the  fact ;  but  there 
is  no  reason  to  believe  that  the  ceremony  was  origin- 
ally devised  for  such  cases,  or  ever  restricted  to 
them. 

Further  evidence  for  the  fire  ordeal  was  formerly 
found  in  Athar.  Ved.  2.  12.  1-8  (so  Schlagintweit, 
Die  Gottesurtheile  der  Inder,  1866,  p.  9  ;  Weber,  In- 
dische  Studien,  xiii.  (1S76)  164  ff. ;  Ludwig,  Der  Rig- 
veda,  iii.  (1878)  445;  Zimmer,  Altindisches  Leben, 
1879,  p.  183  f. ;  Kaegi,  Alter  und  Herkunft  des 
germ.  Gottesurtheils,  1887.  The  interpretation  was 
first  doubted  by  Roth  (cf.  Grill,  Hundert  Lieder  des 
Atharva  Veda,  1888,  p.  16),  and  the  ritualistic  mani- 
pulation of  the  hymn  in  the  Kausika  Sutra  finally 
disclosed  its  true  nature  as  an  imprecation  against 
an  enemy  for  thwarting  holy  work  (cf.  Bloomfield, 
AJPh  x'.  330 ff. ;  SBE  xlii.  89,  294 ff.). 

The  earliest  lawbooks,  also,  make  but  slight 
reference  to  the  practice,  most  probably  because 
it  was  not  considered  of  great  importance,  and 
because  they  were  consequently  willing  to  leave 
the  details  to  be  decided  by  local  customs.  These 
have  been  gathered  and  systematized  by  the  later 
treatises  on  law,  which  finally  recognize  nine  forms 
of  ordeal. 

(1)  By  the  scales  (dhata,  tula).  The  accused  is 
placed  m  one  scale  of  a  balance  and  his  weight  in 
stones  and  sand  in  the  other  scale.  He  descends 
from  the  scale,  and  after  certain  ceremonies  is 
again  placed  on  the  balance.  If  he  is  lighter,  he  is 
innocent ;  if  heavier,  guilty.  Equality  of  weight 
is  generally  considered  proof  of  guilt  in  a  less 
degree,  though  the  authorities  differ  upon  this 
point  and  upon  the  significance  of  accidents  to  the 
apparatus. 

(2)  By  fire  (agni).  The  accused,  whose  hands  are 
more  or  less  protected  by  leaves  and  grains,  is  re- 
quired to  step  in  seven  circles,  while  holding  in 
his  hands  a  piece  of  heated  iron.  If  his  hands  are 
burnt  it  is  a  proof  of  his  guilt. 

(3)  By  water  (salila).  To  prove  his  innocence, 
the  accused  must  remain  under  water  until  a  swift 
runner  can  bring  back  an  arrow  shot  at  the  time  of 
submersion. 

(4)  By  poison  (visa).  If  no  ill  effects  are  ob- 
servable within  a  certain  time  after  the  accused 
has  taken  the  poison,  he  is  declared  innocent. 

(5)  By  holy  water  (koia).  An  image  of  a  god 
recognized  by  the  accused  is  bathed  in  water, 
which  is  then  given  to  the  accused  to  drink.  If  he 
does  so  without  betraying  his  guilt,  and  no  mis- 
fortune happens  to  him  within  a  certain  time,  he  is 
innocent. 

(6)  By  rice  grains  (tandula).  Grains  of  unhusked 
rice  are  soaked  in  water  in  which  an  image  of  a 
god  has  been  bathed,  and  are  given  to  the  accused 
to  chew.  He  is  then  required  to  spit  upon  a  leaf. 
If  there  is  no  blood  evident,  and  his  gums  are 
uninjured,  he  is  innocent. 

(7)  By  a  heated  gojd-piece  (taptamasa).  The  ac- 
cused is  required  to  take  a  gold-piece  from  a  vessel 
of  heated  ghl  and  oil.  Quivering  and  blisters  are 
proofs  of  guilt. 

(8)  By  a  ploughshare  (phala).     The  accused,  to 


establish  his  innocence,  must  lick  a  heated  plough 
share  without  burning  his  tongue. 

(9)  By  lot  (dharmadharma).  Representations  of 
innocence  and  guilt  are  placed  in  a  vessel,  and  the 
accused  is  required  to  draw  one. 

The  form  of  ordeal  is  determined  by  the  nature 
of  the  crime,  the  position  of  the  accused,  and  the 
season  of  the  year.  There  is  observable,  as  always 
in  Hindu  law,  the  tendency  to  favour  the  upper 
castes,  but  there  is  also  a  tendency  to  moderate 
the  conditions  of  the  ordeal  in  favour  of  the  ac- 
cused, and  the  accuser  is  generally  required  to 
undergo  the  penalty  in  case  the  accused  is  ac- 
quitted. The  ordeal  can  be  applied  only  in  the 
absence  of  human  evidence,  and,  as  was  to  be 
expected,  is  accompanied  by  religious  ceremonies 
(for  further  details  cf.  J.  Jolly,  Becht  und  Sitte, 
1896,  p.  144 f.,  and  esp.  A.  F.  Stenzler,  'Die  ind. 
Gottesurtheile,'  ZDMG  ix.  661-682). 

The  practices  described  must  be  much  older  than 
the  texts  in  which  they  are  contained.  There  is 
no  warrant  for  declaring  the  essentials  of  any  one 
form  later  than  another ;  and  the  familiar  nature 
of  the  Vedic  allusions  to  the  fire  ordeal  as  some- 
thing well  known  warrants  the  belief  that  similar, 
if  not  identical,  practices  were  in  vogue  in  Vedic 
times. 

Allusions  to  ordeals  are  found  in  the  classic 
literature  in  Ramayana,  vi.  101-103  (Gorresio), 
where  Sita  proves  her  innocence  by  .walking 
through  fire ;  and  in  the  Mrehchhakatika,  9.  43, 
p.  156  S.,  where  the  ordeals  by  fire,  water,  poison, 
and  the  scales  are  referred  to. 

Literature.  —  In  addition  to  the  articles  cited,  cf.  Victor 
Henry,  La  Magie  dans  I'Inde  antique,  Paris,  1904,  pp.  59-78; 
A.  Hillebrandt,  Rituallitteratur,  Strassburg,  1897,  p.  186; 
H.  Oldenberg-,  Die  Religion  des  Veda,  Berlin,  1894,  p.  509  ff. ; 
and  the  indexes  to  '  Hymns  of  the  Atharva- Veda-'  [tr.  M. 
Uloomfleld],  in  SBE  xlii.,  Oxford,  1897,  and  W.  Caland,  Altin- 
disches Zauben-itital,  Amsterdam,  1900. 

G.  M.  BOLLING. 

DIVINE  RIGHT.— Divine  right  is  a  right 
conferred  by  God,  sanctioned  or  inspired  by  Him, 
and  based  on  His  ordinance  and  appointment.  The 
phrase  is  generally  used  to  express  the  theory  that 
kings  hold  their  authority,  not  from  the  choice  or 
consent  of  their  subjects,  but  from  God  Himself 
alone.  In  English  history  it  came  into  specific  use 
in  the  17th  century,  during  the  disputes  between 
the  Stuarts  and  their  people.  The  claim  of  Divine 
right  was  pre-eminently  made  for  that  dynasty ; 
the  doctrine  became  the  badge  of  Tories  and  High 
Churchmen ;  and  at  the  Restoration  in  1660  it 
was  the  accepted  royalist  creed.  It  was  seriously 
maintained  that  hereditary  monarchy,  as  opposed 
to  every  other  form  of  government,  has  the  Divine 
approval  ;  that  no  human  power  can  justly  deprive 
a  legitimate  king  of  his  rights  ;  that  the  authority 
of  such  a  king  is  necessarily  always  despotic  ;  that 
constitutional  liberties  are  not  rights  of  the  people, 
but  concessions  freely  made  by  the  king  and  liable 
to  be  resumed  at  his  pleasure  ;  that  treaties  which 
he  may  make  with  his  subjects  merely  inform 
them  of  bis  present  intentions,  and  are  not  con- 
tracts of  which  the  performance  can  be  demanded. 

The  chief  representative  of  the  Divine  right 
party  was  Sir  Robert  Filrner,  who  in  his  books 
and  pamphlets  laid  down  the  doctrine  that  the 
government  of  a  family  is  the  true  original  and 
model  of  all  government,  that  all  kings  and 
governors  derive  their  absolute  authority  from  the 
patriarchs,  and  that  to  the  end  of  the  world  the  king 
will  always  have  the  natural  right  of  a  supreme 
father  over  a  multitude.  This  fantastic  theory  was 
fu'ly  developed  in  his  Patriarcha,  a  posthumous 
v  jrk  (1680),  but  his  position  was  sufficiently  in- 
dicated in  works  published  during  his  lifetime, 
his  '  Freeholder's  Grand  Inquest  touching  our 
Sovereign   Lord   the  King  and    his    Parliament ; 


DIVINE  RIGHT 


831 


(1648),  his  'Anarchy  of  a  Limited  and  Mixed 
Monarchy'  (164S),  his  'Observations  upon  Mr. 
Hobbes'  Leviathan,  Mr.  Milton  against  Salmasius, 
and  H.  Grotius,  De  jure  belli  et  pacis,  concerning 
the  Original  of  Government'  (1652).  It  amounted 
to  a  paternal  despotism :  the  king  alone  is  the 
maker  of  laws,  the  Lords  only  give  counsel  to 
the  king,  and  the  Commons  merely  '  perform  and 
consent  to  the  ordinances  of  parliament.'  It  was 
this  '  patriarchal '  theory  of  government,  doggedly 
adhered  to  by  the  Stuarts,  that  rent  the  fabric  of 
the  constitution  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  and 
drove  the  long-suffering  nation  to  the  Revolution 
of  1688. 

In  the  previous  century,  Richard  Hooker  (c.  1553- 
1600)  had  given  a  philosophical  statement  of  the 
principles  of  government,  making  the  consent  of 
the  people  the  prime  requisite  : 

'  Without  which  consent  there  were  no  reason  that  one  man 
should  take  upon  him  to  be  lord  or  judge  over  another ;  be- 
cause, although  there  be  according  to  the  opinion  of  some  very 
great  and  judicious  men  a  kind  of  natural  right  in  the  noble, 
wise,  and  virtuous,  to  govern  them  which  are  of  servile  dis- 
position ;  nevertheless  for  manifestation  of  this  their  right,  and 
men's  more  peaceful  contentment  on  both  sides,  the  assent  of 
them  who  are  to  be  governed  seemeth  necessary. 

'To  fathers  within  their  private  families  Nature  hath  given  a 
supreme  power ;  for  which  cause  we  see  throughout  the  world, 
even  from  the  foundation  thereof,  all  men  have  ever  been  taken 
as  lords  and  lawful  kings  in  their  own  houses.  Howbeit  over  a 
whole  grand  multitude  having  no  such  dependency  upon  any  one, 
and  consisting  of  so  many  families  as  every  politic  society  in  the 
world  doth,  impossible  it  is  that  any  should  have  complete  law- 
ful power,  but  by  consent  of  men,  or  immediate  appointment 
of  God  ;  because,  not  having  the  natural  superiority  of  fathers, 
their  power  must  needs  be  either  usurped,  and  then  unlawful ; 
or,  if  lawful,  then  either  granted  or  consented  unto  by  them 
over  whom  they  exercise  the  same,  or  else  given  extraordinarily 
from  God,  unto  whom  all  the  world  is  subject '  (Eccl.  Polity, 
i.  10 ;  Keble's  edition,  i.  302  f.). 

To  popularize  the  principles  of  the  liberty  of 
subjects,  the  fiery  logic  of  Samuel  Rutherford  did 
more  than  the  massive  learning  of  Hooker.  His 
Lex  Rex  (1644)  was  intolerable  to  the  Royalists. 
Not  only  was  it  burnt  by  the  hangman  in  Edin- 
burgh in  1661,  and  by  the  hands  of  Sharpe  under 
the  windows  of  its  author's  college  in  St.  Andrews, 
but  it  would  probably  have  cost  him  his  life,  as  he 
was  about  to  be  tried  for  high  treason  when  he 
'got  another  summons  before  a  superior  Judge.' 

'  The  king,'  he  contends,  '  hath  no  masterly  dominion  over 
the  people,  but  only  fiduciary  '  (11G).  '  That  the  power  of  the 
king  is  fiduciary,  that  is,  given  to  him  by  God  in  trust,  Royalists 
do  not  deny  ;  but  we  hold  that  the  trust  is  put  upon  the  king 
by  the  people '  (124).  'The  people  may  be  without  the  king, 
but  not  the  king  without  the  people  '  (144).  'Though  God  im- 
mediately without  any  action  of  the  people  make  kings,  this  is 
a  weak  reason,  to  prove  they  cannot  unmake  them  '  (146).  '  I 
utterly  deny  that  God  ever  ordained  such  an  irrational  creature 
as  an  absolute  monarch '  (216).  '  Whatever  the  king  doth  as 
king,  that  he  doth  by  a  power  borrowed  from  the  Estates,  who 
made  him  king.  He  must  then  be  nothing  but  an  eminent 
servant  of  the  State  '  (233). 

The  democratic  principle  was  argued  for  in  an- 
other classical  work  on  English  constitutional  law 
and  polity — Locke's  Two  Treatises  on  Government 
(1690).  In  the  'First  Treatise'  he  subjects  the 
writings  of  Filmer  to  a  searching  analysis,  going 
over  his  arguments  seriatim,  and  in  the  '  Second 
Treatise'  he  maintains'  that  civil  rulers  hold  their 
power  not  absolutely  but  conditionally,  govern- 
ment being  a  moral  trust  which  is  forfeited  if 
the  conditions  are  not  fulfilled  by  the  trustees. 
Written  for  the  immediate  purpose  of  vindicating 
the  Revolution,  Locke's  work  contains  the  essential 
principles  which  have  regulated  political  progress 
for  over  two  centuries,  and  gradually  moulded  the 
British  constitution. 

Carlyle,  in  his  lecture  on  'The  Hero  as  King,' 
remarks  that  '  much  sorry  stuff,  written  some 
hundred  years  ago  or  more,  about  the  "  Divine 
right  of  kings  "  '  had  better  be  left  to  rot  silently  in 
the  Public  Libraries.  At  the  same  time  he  does 
not  wish  to  '  let  the  immense  rubbish  go  without 
leaving  us  some  soul  of  it  behind.' 


'  Find  me  the  true  Kdnning,  King,  or  Able-man,  and  he  tuts  a 
divine  right  over  me.  That  we  knew  in  some  tolerable  measure 
how  to  find  him,  and  that  all  men  were  ready  to  acknowledge 
his  divine  right  when  found  :  this  is  precisely  the  healing  which 
a  sick  world  is  everywhere,  in  these  ages,  seeking  after  ! '  (On 
Heroes,  People's  ed.  p.  183  f.).  '  He  that  models  NationB  accord- 
ing to  his  own  image,  he  is  a  King,  though  his  sceptre  were  a 
walking-stick  ;  and  properly  no  other  is '  (Frederick  the  Great, 
People's  ed.,  vol.  i.  p.  286).  In  this  high  sense  Cromwell  is  a  king 
by  Divine  right ;  while  Pitt  is  '  not  born  a  King, — alas,  no,  not 
officially  so,  only  naturally  so;  has  his  kingdom  to  seek.  .  .  . 
tragical  it  is  ...  to  see  a  Royal  Man,  or  Born  King,  wading 
towards  his  throne  in  such  an  element.  But,  alas,  the  Born 
King  ...  so  seldom  can  arrive  there  at  all '  (ib.  vii.  139  f .). 

The  older  doctrine  had  an  ephemeral  revival  at 
the  time  of  the  Holy  Alliance  (1814),  which,  while 
to  all  appearances  an  attempt,  inspired  by  the 
religious  idealism  of  the  Czar  Alexander  I.,  to  find 
in  the  '  sacred  precepts  of  the  Gospel '  a  common 
basis  for  a  general  league  of  European  govern- 
ments having  for  its  object  the  preservation  of 
peace,  was  really  a  brotherhood  of  sovereigns  hold- 
ing the  reins  of  government  by  Divine  right.  The 
same  high  doctrine  was  dear  to  the  first  German 
Emperor,  who  intensely  believed  himself  to  be  the 
vicegerent  of  the  '  God  of  battles  ' ;  and  it  is  held 
as  firmly  by  his  grandson,  who  habitually  lays 
stress  on  the  Divine  right  by  which  alone  the 
kings  of  Prussia  rule,  sincerely  holding  that  they 
are  appointed  and  inspired  to  shape  their  people's 
destinies.  '  Considering  myself  as  the  instrument 
of  the  Lord,  without  heeding  the  views  and 
opinions  of  the  day,  I  go  my  way'  (Konigsberg 
speech,  1910).  The  principle  is  logically  applied 
in  Russia,  where  the  Emperor  places  the  crown  (as 
the  first  Napoleon  did)  on  his  own  head,  deriving 
his  kingly  prerogative  from  no  man,  and  being 
answerable  to  no  man. 

The  Old  Testament  has  often  been  regarded  as 
teaching  the  Divine  right  of  kings.  But  it  speaks 
with  a  somewhat  uncertain  voice.  In  gratitude 
for  the  monarchy,  which,  arising  out  of  natural 
beginnings,  drew  together  all  the  vital  energies 
of  Israel  in  devotion  to  one  God  and  one  king, 
the  prophets  went  to  all  lengths  in  proclaiming 
the  king's  person  sacrosanct  and  his  rule  Divine. 
The  earthly  monarch  was  sent  in  the  place  of  the 
heavenly  ;  he  was  Jahweh's  anointed  and  His  son, 
the  mediator  through  whom  help,  salvation,  and 
blessing  came  to  the  people.  The  Civil  State  was 
a  miracle,  a  gift  of  God,  and  even  the  glorious 
kingdom  of  the  future  was  inconceivable  without 
a  heaven-sent  king.  Time,  however,  brought  dis- 
illusionment ;  a  succession  of  weak  and  unright- 
eous kings  were  unfaithful  to  the  pure  religion ; 
Hosea  (13u)  regarded  the  monarchy  itself  as  an 
evil ;  and,  according  to  a  late  stratum  of  the  his- 
torical books,  Samuel  from  the  very  beginning 
foresaw  a  dangerous  rivalry  to  the  kingship  of 
Jahweh,  an  autocracy  substituted  for  a  theocracy 
(1  S  8™-).  It  is  certain  that  the  prophets  never  re- 
nounced their  Divine  right  of  criticizing  the  policy 
and  the  character  of  their  kings,  and  that  long 
before  the  end  came  they  remorselessly  foretold 
the  dissolution  of  the  State  and  the  abolition  of 
the  monarchy,  at  least  until  the  Messiah  should 
come  to  restore  ail  things. 

In  the  New  Testament,  Christ  Himself  acknow- 
ledges the  rights  of  Cwsar  (the  reigning  Emperor 
was  Tiberius)  within  his  own  sphere  (Mk  1217),  and 
St.  Paul  declares  that  the  Powers  that  be  (Hiovo-ltu 
vTrepexovo-ai)  are  ordained  of  God,  so  that  resistance 
to  the  Power  is  resistance  to  the  ordinance  of  God 
(Ro  13"').  The  Divine-right  party  in  the  Jacobean 
and  Caroline  period  regarded  such  utterances  as 
strongly  supporting  their  cause ;  and  even  Bishop 
Berkeley  appears  to  have  interpreted  them  as  pre- 
scribing an  unlimited  obedience.  '  Loyalty  is  a 
moral  virtue,  and  "Thou  shalt  not  resist  the  Sup- 
reme Power"  a  rule  or  law  of  nature,  the  least 
breach  whereof  hath  the  inherent  stain  of  moral 


832 


DOCETISM 


turpitude'  {Works,  iv.  Ill  [quoted  by  Sanday- 
Headlam,  Romans,  Edin.  1895,  p.  372]).  But  the 
early  Christians,  who  were  so  loyal  to  Caesar  '  for 
conscience'  sake '  (Ko  136),  were  loyal  to  Christ  for 
the  same  reason ;  and,  when  Caesar  went  beyond 
his  sphere  and  claimed  from  them  Divine  honours, 
they  not  only  refused  to  bow  to  his  authority,  but 
branded  him  as  '  the  Beast.' 

In  truth,  the  despotic  claim  of  Divine  right 
must  always  make  kings  either  odious  or  ridicu- 
lous. King  James  I.,  who  was  in  the  habit  of 
telling  his  Parliament  that  '  they  held  their  privi- 
leges merely  during  his  pleasure,  and  that  they 
had  no  more  business  to  inquire  what  he  might 
lawfully  do  than  what  the  Deity  might  lawfully 
do'  (Macaulay,  Hist,  of  Eng.,  ed.  London,  1871, 
i.  37),  was  reminded  by  Melville  that,  though  he 
was  king  over  men,  he  was  only  '  God's  silly 
vassal.'  It  was  not  a  courtly  speech,  any  more 
than  Knox's  memorable  saying  to  Mary,  '  Your 
will,  Madam,  is  no  reason.'  But  such  bold  utter- 
ances— the  expression  of  the  Divine  and  indefeas- 
ible right  of  private  judgment — becoming  household 
words,  created  an  atmosphere  in  which  the  doc- 
trine of  Divine  right  to  unlimited  power  ultimately 
died  a  natural  death.  Faint  and  ghostly  echoes 
of  it  are  still  frequently  heard  abroad,  as  when 
Martensen  (Christian  Ethics  [Social],  Eng.  tr., 
Edin.  1882,  p.  187)  advocates  hereditary  monarchy, 

'because  of  its  full  manifestation  of  the  fact  that  the  king 
exists  not  by  the  will  of  the  people,  but  by  the  will  of  God, 
that  the  king  and  his  authority  are  given  us,  that  he  is  exactly 
the  person  whom  we  ought  to  have,  that  subjective  arguing  is 
in  this  matter  of  as  little  use  as  it  would  be  to  complain  that 
we  have  not  other  parents  than  those  whom  God  has  given  us, 
although  those  parents  may  have  undeniable  imperfections,  to 
which  we  need  not  be  blind,  but  by  which  our  dutifulness  must 
not  be  disturbed.' 

The  ideal  State  is  that  in  which  the  Divine 
right  of  every  personality  is  recognized,  and  the 
throne  thus  broad-based  upon  the  people's  will. 
In  such  a  State  each  individual  can  say,  in  a  much 
higher  sense  than  was  meant  by  the  Grand  Mon- 
arque,  '  L'etat  c'est  moi.'  It  is  vain  to  imagine 
that  'there's  such  divinity  doth  hedge  a  king' 
(Hamlet,  IV.  v.  123),  when  the  king  happens  to  be 
Hamlet's  stepfather,  lawless  and  murderous ;  but 
the  words  have  a  profound  significance  when  the 
Divine  protection  of  a  good  king  is  mediated  by 
the  fervent  loyalty  of  a  great  nation. 

'  Where  the  king  doth  guide  the  state,  and  the  law  the  king, 
that  commonwealth  is  like  a  harp  or  melodious  instrument,  the 
strings  whereof  are  tuned  and  handled  all  by  one,  following  as 
laws  the  rules  and  canons  of  musical  science '  (Hooker,  viii.  2, 
KSble's  ed.  hi.  440). 

See  also  art.  GOVERNMENT,  and  Literature  there 
cited.  J.  Strahan. 

DIVORCE.— See  Marriage. 

DOCETISM.— i.  Name  and  definition.  — Docet- 
ism  (doK-nruTfids)  is  the  heresy  which  teaches  that 
Christ  had  no  real  material  body  and  human 
nature,  but  only  an  apparent  body,  a  phantasm  of 
humanity  (like  the  angel  Raphael  in  To  1219).  His 
acceptance  of  the  ordinary  laws  that  govern  our 
life,  His  eating,  drinking,  birth,  and  death,  are  so 
many  illusions  (SokcTv,  in  the  sense  of  'seeming' 
only). 

The  name  SoKrjral  (SoKtraC)  appears  first  in  a  letter  of  Serapion 
of  Antioch  (191-203  [reproduced  by  Euseb.  BE  vi.  12J),  in 
which  he  forbids  the  reading  of  the  apocryphal  Gospel  of 
Peter  because  it  is  corrupted  by  the  '  successors  of  those  who 
preceded  Marcion,  whom  we  call  Docetes.'  It  appears  again  in 
Clem.  Alex.  Strom,  iii.  13  (Pff  viii.  1192),  vii.  17  (ib.  ix.  553),  in 
Hippol.  Plains,  viii.  8  (ib.  xvi.  3347),  in  Theodoret  (t  c.  458),  Up. 
82  (ib.  Ixxxiii.  1264):  'Marcion,  Valentine,  Manes,  and  the 
other  DoceteB.'  But  the  heresy  existed  long  before  the  time  of 
these  writers.  There  are  traces  of  it  in  the  NT,  it  recurs  in 
the  Apostolic  Fathers,  it  became  part  of  the  Gnostic  system, 
continued  in  various  forms  among  Manichseans  and  Mono- 
physites,  lasted  into  the  Middle  Ages,  and  was  adopted  (in  part) 
by  Muhammad. 


Docetism  was  not  so  much  a  definite  system  as  a 
tendency.  There  was  not  one  organized  Docetic 
sect ;  nor  was  the  idea  of  a  phantasmal  body  of 
Christ  adopted  for  its  own  sake,  for  the  sake  of 
apparent  reasons  of  philosophy,  or  on  the  ground 
of  texts  of  Scripture,  or  other  such  arguments.  It 
is  rather  the  consequence  to  which  other  heresies 
led.  It  is  found,  moreover,  in  various  forms,  more 
or  less  perfect.  One  school  had  only  few  Docetic 
tendencies,  another  more ;  it  was  possible  to  hold 
Docetic  views  about  our  Lord's  birth  or  conception, 
but  not  about  His  death,  and  vice  versa.  So  we 
find  it  in  many  grades,  ranging  from  a  slight 
tendency  to  consider  Christ's  humanity  as  privi- 
leged, more  spiritual  than  ours,  less  subject  to 
humiliating  conditions  (in  which  form  it  might 
be  held  by  orthodox  Christians),  to  the  extreme 
school  which  made  all  His  life  on  earth  a  senseless 
mystification. 

2.  In  the  NT  and  the  Apostolic  Fathers. — 
Docetism  is  the  first  known  Christian  heresy. 
'  The  blood  of  Christ  was  still  fresh  in  Judaea,' 
says  Jerome,  'when  His  body  was  said  to  be  a 
phantasm '  (adv.  Lucif.  23  [PL  xxiii.  186]).  There 
are  passages  in  the  NT  against  those  who  deny 
the  reality  of  our  Lord's  body.  Certain  texts  in 
St.  Paul  which  insist  on  Christ's  birth  from  a 
woman,  or  on  His  having  flesh  (Gal  44,  Ro  l8  9s  ; 
cf.  He  214),  are  sometimes  supposed  to  be  directed 
against  Docetes.  In  any  case,  there  is  undeniably 
a  polemic  anti- Docetic  meaning  in  the  Epistles  of 
St.  John  ;  1  Jn  11_!  and  41"3  clearly  have  this  sense, 
just  as  222  rejects  the  Gnostic  basis  of  Docetism. 
In  2  Jn  '  there  is  the  statement  that  '  many  de- 
ceivers are  gone  forth  into  the  world,  even  they 
that  confess  not  that  Jesus  Christ  cometh  in  the 
flesh '  (A.  Wurm,  Die  Irrlehrer  im  ersten  Johannes- 
brief,  Freiburg,  1903,  pp.  53-62). 

It  may  seem  strange  that  Docetism  should  thus 
be  the  earliest  of  all  heresies.  One  would  have 
thought  that  the  first  and  second  Christian  genera- 
tions would  at  any  rate  have  had  no  doubt  about 
our  Lord's  real  manhood.  The  explanation  is  that 
Docetism  did  not  develop  by  a  perverse  process 
from  the  gospel  and  the  Christian  system,  but 
came  to  Christianity  from  without.  Already, 
before  the  time  of  Christ,  the  philosophy  of 
dualism  (a. v.)  was  in  possession  in  Greek  and 
Jewish  schools.  The  concept  of  the  universe  as 
the  battle-ground  between  two  worlds — a  good 
world  of  spirit  and  a  bad  world  of  matter — had  a 
large  number  of  adherents  when  the  Christian 
gospel  was  first  preached.  Dualistic  philosophies, 
then,  combining  with  the  Christian  faith,  pro- 
duced the  long  chain  of  heresies  that  we  class 
together  as  Gnosticism  and  Manichaeism.  In  all 
the  problem  of  evil  (Tertullian,  de  Prater.  7  : 
'  unde  malum  et  quare ')  is  explained  by  dualism  ; 
and  it  must  be  remembered  that  dualism  is  not  so 
much  a  Christian  heresy  as  a  totally  un-Christian, 
pre-Christian,  philosophy.  Certainly  in  some  of 
the  extreme  Gnostic  schools  there  is  hardly  any 
Christianity  at  all.  Docetism  is  a  corollary  of 
Gnostic  dualism.  All  these  combinations  of  the 
old  Persian  philosophy  with  the  new  religion  took 
from  the  gospel  at  least  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ 
as  the  leading  champion  of  the  good  world  of  spirit, 
if  not  a  final  emanation  from  God  its  creator  and 
protector.  It  followed,  then,  that  He  could  not  be 
Himself  polluted  by  matter.  He  had  come  down 
to  redeem  men's  souls  by  freeing  them  from  matter  ; 
He  Himself  must  be  pure  spirit.  The  body  is  bad, 
made  by  the  powers  of  darkness  and  evil ;  there- 
fore the  Saviour  could  have  no  body.  So  all  the 
passages  of  the  Gospels  that  refer  to  His  flesh,  or  to 
His  dependence  on  matter  in  birth,  eating,  death, 
must  be  understood  as  describing  mere  appear- 
ances.    It  was  necessary  that  He  should  seem  to 


DOCETISM 


833 


have  a  material  body,  but  tbis  was  only  what 
seemed  to  be. 

Doeetism  in  the  first  period  is  always  the  corol- 
lary of  some  Gnostic  system.  F.  Chr.  Baur  (Die 
christliche  Gnosis,  p.  258)  held  that  all  Gnostics 
were  Docetes.  This  is  not  correct.  There  were 
Gnostic  schools,  as  that  of  Basilides,  which  solved 
the  problem  in  another  way,  denying  any  essential 
union  between  Christ,  the  spiritual  Saviour-^Eon, 
and  the  man  Jesus — thus  foreshadowing  Nestorian- 
ism.  But  more  or  less  advanced  Docetic  ideas 
accompany  most  Gnostic  systems ;  although  we 
cannot  say  that  all  Gnostics  were  Docetes,  we  may 
safely  say  that  all  early  Docetes  were  Gnostics. 
Doeetism  was  always  a  consequence  of  that  repre- 
sentation of  matter  as  evil  which  is  the  common 
element  of  Gnostic  schools.  It  was  a  feature  of 
Gnosticism  specially  hateful  to  the  early  Fathers, 
because  it  made  of  the  Gospel  story — all  the  Life 
that  is  to  be  our  example  (Jn  1315) — a  vain  pre- 
tence. '  Spare  the  one  hope  of  the  whole  world, ' 
says  Tertullian  to  Marcion  (de  came  Christi,  5 
[PL  ii.  760]).  Although  this  theory  was  not  a 
separate  heresy,  but  rather  a  consequence  of  the 
larger  issue  about  dualism,  it  could  be  refuted 
separately.  Apart  from  the  general  question 
whether  matter  be  an  emanation  from  the  evil 
principle,  it  was  possible  to  defend  the  real  human- 
ity and  so  the  material  body  of  Christ ;  it  was 
possible  to  show  to  any  one  who  accepted  the 
story  of  His  life  in  the  Gospels  that  He  was  a  real 
man,  subject  to  the  normal  conditions  of  human 
life.  Many  Fathers  accordingly  discuss  this  ques- 
tion separately,  and  refute  those  who  deny  it, 
without  dealing  with  the  reason  of  their  denial. 
So  they  have  left  us  the  concept  of  Doeetism  as  a 
special  heresy,  and  of  Docetes  as  a  particular  class 
of  persons. 

The  Epistle  of  Barnabas,  v.  12  ('God  says  that 
the  stroke  of  his  flesh  is  from  them  [sc.  the  Jews] '), 
is  sometimes  supposed  to  contain  a  Docetic  idea 
('naiver  Doketismus '  [Harnack,  Dogmengesch.  i. 
215]),  but  unjustly.  The  text  goes  on  to  declare 
the  reality  of  the  Passion  and  Crucifixion ;  the 
words  quoted  mean  only  that  this  was  the  fulfil- 
ment of  prophecy  (Funk,  Patres  apost.,  Tubingen, 
1901,  i.  53,  n.  12).  Ignatius  of  Antioch,  in  the 
Greek  version  of  his  Letters,  repeatedly  and  vehe- 
mently denounces  those  who  say  that  Christ 
'  suffered  apparently  '  (rb  Sokclv  irewovSivai  [Trail. 
10]),  and  insists  on  the  reality  of  His  flesh  (Eph. 
7,  18 ;  Trail.  9-10).  All  the  first  part  of  Smyrn. 
(1-6)  is  devoted  to  anti-Docetic  polemic.1  Poly- 
carp  quotes  1  Jn  421-,  adding  that  whoever  does 
not  confess  the  witness  of  the  Cross  is  of  the  devil, 
and  whoever  denies  the  Resurrection  and  the  Judg- 
ment is  the  first-born  of  Satan.  He  describes  these 
ideas  as  '  the  folly  of  many  people '  (Phil.  vii.  1-2). 
This  is  generally  believed  to  be  directed  against 
Marcion  and  his  followers.  Irenseus  tells  the  story 
of  Polycarp  meeting  Marcion  and  calling  him  the 
first-born  of  Satan  (Hmr.  III.  iii.  4).  Justin  Martyr 
counts  Marcionites  among  the  other  Gnostics  who 
'  in  no  way  worship  Jesus,  but  only  confess  Him 
in  words'  (Dial.  35  [PG  vi.  551]),  and  insists  on 
Christ's  real  human  nature  (ib.  43  [568]). 

3.  Doeetism  in  apocryphal  scriptures. — There 
are  traces  of  Doeetism  in  several  apocryphal  books 
that  circulated  for  a  time  among  early  Christians. 
We  have  seen  that  Serapion  of  Antioch  forbade 
the  reading  of  the  Gospel  of  Peter  because  it  had 
been  corrupted  by  Docetes.  The  fragment  lately 
discovered  (in  1887  at  Akhmim  in  Upper  Egypt, 
published  by  U.  Bouriant  in  1892)  confirms  his 
judgment.  Verse  10  says  (of  Christ  on  the  cross)  : 
'  But  he  remained  dumb,  as  one  who  feels  no  pain ' 

1  These  passages  are  wanting  in  Cureton's  Syriac  version 
(Lightfoot,  The  Apost.  Fathers,  pt.  ii.  vol.  i.  [1889]  p.  320). 
vol.  iv. — S3 


(Harnack,  'Evang.  u.  Apokal.  des  Petrus,'  TV  ix.  2 
[1893],  p.  9). 

Except  those  of  Paul,  all  the  apocryphal  Acts  of 
Apostles  contain  more  or  less  Docetic  ideas,  often 
together  with  a  certain  amount  of  Encratism  (a 
similar  corollary  of  hatred  of  matter).  The  Acts 
of  John  (early  2nd  cent.;  cf.  Euseb.  HE  iii.  25) 
exhibits  the  most  pronounced  form.  At  the  Last 
Supper,  St.  John,  leaning  on  Christ's  breast,  found 
it  non-resisting  (89  [Hennecke,  NT  Apokryphen, 
Tubingen,  1904,  p.  451]) ;  at  the  entombment,  the 
body  of  Christ  was  at  one  moment  apparently 
solid,  at  another  it  was  'immaterial  and  incor- 
poreal and  like  nothing'  (93  [ib.  452]).  The  Cruci- 
fixion was  only  an  appearance ;  at  the  same 
moment  Christ  appeared  to  John  on  the  Mount  of 
Olives  and  explained  this  (97  [ib.  454]).  The  Acts 
of  Peter  (cf.  Euseb.  iii.  2)  has  the  statement,  char- 
acteristic of  one  school  of  Doeetism,  that  God  sent 
His  Son  '  through  the  Virgin  Mary '  (7  [Hennecke, 
399]).  The  material  Passion  was  an  appearance : 
'  What  appears  is  quite  different  from  this  suffering, 
as  it  was  from  the  passion  of  Christ '  (37  [ib.  421]). 
The  Acts  of  Andrew  is  strongly  Encratite ;  its 
Doeetism  appears  in  §  6  (Hennecke,  466),  where 
man  is  said  to  be  '  immaterial,  holy,  light,'  etc. 
In  the  Acts  of  Thomas,  Doeetism  is  less  evident, 
but  the  usual  Gnostic  antithesis  between  matter 
and  spirit  is  supposed  throughout ;  Christ  is  spirit 
(Hennecke,  480-544).  Only  the  Acts  of  Paul  (ib. 
369-383)  seems  free  from  any  trace  of  this  heresy. 

In  many  cases  the  Doeetism  of  these  apocryphal 
scriptures  is  latent  rather  than  manifest,  or  it 
shows  itself  only  in  one  or  two  sentences.  For 
the  rest  they  speak  of  our  Lord  in  much  the  same 
tone  as  the  Canonical  books.  This  explains  how 
they  could  be  read  in  orthodox  circles  often  without 
suspicion.  On  the  other  hand,  they  were  rejected 
by  authority  (cf.  Euseb.  iii.  25)  because  of  their 
heretical  tendency,  shown  chiefly  in  the  form  of 
Doeetism. 

4.  The  Gnostic  Docetes. — The  apocryphal  scrip- 
tures quoted  were  composed  in  Gnostic  circles  ;  the 
quotations  have  anticipated  part  of  what  follows. 
With  regard  to  Doeetism  the  Gnostic  schools  fall 
into  three  classes  :  (1)  those  which  were  not  Docetic 
at  all,  but  distinguished  Christ  the  spiritual  Saviour 
from  the  normal  man  Jesus  ;  (2)  the  milder  Docetes, 
who  admitted  a  body  of  Christ,  though  it  was  a 
spiritualized  one  (ffw^ia  ^vx^k6v  or  Trveu^ariKdv),  and 
only  passed  through  His  mother,  was  not  formed 
of  her ;  (3)  the  extreme  Docetes,  who  denied  all 
reality  to  the  body  of  Christ ;  He  was  born  in  no 
sense  at  all,  and  all  His  human  life  was  a  mere 
phantasm  (Harnack,  i.  285). 

(1)  Basilides  (q.v.)  (in  Alexandria  at  the  time  of 
Hadrian,  A.D.  117-138  [Euseb.  iv.  7])  was  not  a 
Docete,  but  solved  the  Gnostic  problem  in  the 
other  way,  by  distinguishing  the  man  Jesus  from 
the  Spirit,  the  cous,  who  entered  into  Him  at  His 
baptism.  Irenseus  says  that  Basilides'  account  of 
the  Crucifixion  was  that  Simon  of  Cyrene  was 
crucified  by  mistake,  '  and  Jesus  Himself  took  the 
form  of  Simon,  and  stood  by  and  laughed  at  them  ' 
(Hmr.  I.  xxiv.  4).  If  Basilides  really  taught  thifc 
[it  is  disputed],  it  shows  a  trace  of  one  idea,  com- 
mon to  most  Docetes,  namely,  the  denial  of  the 
Crucifixion. 

(2)  The  milder  school  is  represented  by  Valen- 
tinus,  Apelles,  Bardesanes,  and  Marinus.  Valen- 
tinus  (c.  120-160)  taught  that  Jesus  had  a  '  psychic ' 
body  which  could  not  decay,  was  not  subject  to 
the  normal  laws  of  matter  (Letter  to  Agathopus 
in  Clem.  Alex.  Strom,  iii.  7  [PG  viii.  1161]) :  He 
passed  through  His  mother  as  water  through  a 
pipe  (xaffd-irep  iiSup  Sia  o-wXtji'os  [Iren.  I.  vii.  2]).  He 
was  an  emanation  from  the  thirty  iEons,  the  visible 
appearance  of  the   pre -existent  Christ  produced 


834 


DOCBTISM 


through  Mary  by  the  lowest  (female)  Mon,  Sophia, 
and  the  power  of  the  Creator-demiurge  (ib.  I.  xi. 
2,  3).  Later  Valentinian  schools  developed  and 
modified  the  founder's  ideas  in  various  directions. 
Some,  keeping  the  idea  of  the  non-natural  body 
of  Jesus,  further  distinguished  between  Him  and 
Christ  as  two  persons  (ib.  III.  xiv.  1).  Mark 
(Irenseus'  contemporary  of  this  school)  distin- 
guished two  baptisms  of  Jesus,  one  the  (psychic) 
baptism  of  the  '  apparent  Jesus '  (toO  <pcuvo/j.ivov 
'Itjo-oO)  by  John  for  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  the 
other  a  pneumatic  baptism,  to  which  Mk  1038'- 
refers,  in  which  He  received  Christ,  or  the  Spirit, 
for  His  perfection  (ib.  I.  xxi.  2).  This  represents 
exactly  the  combined  milder  Docetism  ana  (as  we 
should  say)  Nestorianism  of  this  school.  Marcion's 
disciple  Apelles  so  far  modified  his  master's  teach- 
ing that  he,  too,  must  be  classed  among  the  milder 
Docetes.  He  admitted  that  Christ  had  a  real 
body,  formed  from  the  stars  and  '  higher '  sub- 
stances of  the  world,  not  really  born  of  Mary, 
but  like  the  body  of  an  angel  (sic)  (Tert.  de  came 
Christi,  6  [PL  ii.  763] ;  adv.  Marc.  iii.  11  [ib.  335]). 
We  hear  nothing  of  Docetism  in  Bardesanes 
himself  (in  Syria,  A.D.  154-223  ?  [Euseb.  iv.  30]). 
Ephraim  Syr.  in  his  account  (Serm.  polem.  adv. 
hmr.  1  [Opp.  Syr.,  Rome,  1740,  ii.  437-439]  says 
nothing  of  Christological  errors,  nor  does  Epiph- 
anius  (Hmr.  Ivi.  [PG  xli.  989-993]).  But  Marinus 
and  others  of  Bardesanes'  school  taught  the  milder 
form  of  Docetism — that  Christ  had  a  '  heavenly ' 
body,  was  not  born  of  a  woman,  and  suffered  only 
apparently  (Adamantius,  Dialog,  de  recta  in  Deum 
fide,  iii.  [PG  xi.  1793]). 

(3)  The  chief  defenders  of  extreme  Docetism  are 
Cerdo,  Satornil,  and  Marcion.  Cerdo  (KipBuv,  a 
Syrian  in  Rome  at  the  time  of  Hyginus,  c.  136- 
140  [Iren.  I.  xxvii.  1  ;  cf.  III.  iv.  3])  is  known 
chiefly  as  the  teacher  of  Marcion.  He  is  said  to 
have  denied  absolutely  the  reality  of  Christ's  body 
and  of  all  His  apparently  human  actions  (birth, 
death)  on  earth  (Epiph.  xli.  [PG  xli.  692-693] ; 
Hippol.  Philosoph.  x.  19  [PG  xvi.  3435-3438]). 
Irenseus  (ib.)  counts  him  a  follower  of  Simon 
Magus,  the  supposed  father  of  all  Gnostic  and 
Docetic  theories.  Satornil  (Saturninus,  a  Syrian 
[2nd  cent.]),  mentioned  already  by  Justin  (Dial.  35 
[PG  vi.  552]),  was  a  consistent  dualist  in  all  his 
system,  and  carried  his  principles  to  their  logical 
consequence  in  absolute  Docetism.  Our  Lord  was 
the  Saviour,  opposed  to  the  God  of  Israel,  and 
came  to  separate  the  sparks  of  life  and  spirit  in 
men  from  matter.  His  own  freedom  from  matter 
is  emphasized  strongly. 

*  He  Baid  the  Saviour  was  unborn,  incorporeal,  without  figure 
(sine  figura),  without  real  matter,  apparently  seeming  a  man  ; 
and  he  said  the  God  of  the  Jews  was  one  of  the  angels.  .  .  . 
Christ  had  come  to  destroy  the  Jewish  God  and  for  the  salva- 
tion of  those  who  trusted  Him  (Christ);  these  are  they  who 
have  a  spark  of  His  life '  (Iren.  i.  xxiv.  2  ;  cf.  Hippol.  Philosoph. 
vii.  28  [PG  xvi.  3322]). 

The  most  famous  of  all  Docetes  is  Marcion.  He 
was  a  sailor  from  Pontus  (Tert.  Prmscr.  30  [PL 
ii.  48  f.] ;  Euseb.  v.  13),  who  became  a  Christian  at 
Rome  at  the  time  of  Eleutherius  (c.  177-190? 
[Prcescr.,  ib.]).  Then  he  was  attracted  by  Gnostic 
circles,  and  evolved  a  Gnostic  system  of  his  own 
which  obtained  a  considerable  following.  Marcion- 
ites  occur  among  the  heretics  in  all  the  anti-Gnostic 
Fathers.  Irenseus  traces  the  line  of  Marcion's 
heresy  through  Cerdo  from  Simon  Magus  (ffcer.  I. 
xxvii.  1).  His  Docetism,  as  regards  the  beginning 
of  Christ's  life,  was  complete.  His  followers  read 
a  corrupt  version  of  St.  Luke  (Hmr.  III.  xii.  7  ; 
adv.  Marc.  iv.  2  [PL  ii.  364]),  in  which  all  the 
account  of  the  birth  'and  infancy  was  cancelled. 
Suddenly  Christ  appeared  as  a  grown  man :  '  In 
the  fifteenth  year  of  the  reign  of  Tiberius  He 
descended    into   the  city  of   Galilee    Capernaum 


from  the  heaven  of  the  Creator,  into  which  He 
had  already  descended  from  His  own '  (adv.  Marc. 
iv.  7  [PL  ii.  369])  ;  cf.  Lk  31  4S1  (adv.  Marc.  i.  19 
[ib.  267] ;  Iren.  Hmr.  I.  xxvii.  2).  He  was  in  no 
sense  really  a  man,  had  no  real  body ;  any  con- 
nexion between  the  Divine  Spirit  Christ  and  matter 
is  impossible  (Tert.  de  came  Christi,  3  [PL  ii.  757]). 
Marcion  accepted  the  idea  of  the  sacrificial  death 
of  Christ.  For  this  reason  it  is  often  said  that  he 
admitted  a  real  passion  and  death.  But  there  is 
reason  to  doubt  this.  It  seems  that,  although  he 
constantly  spoke  and  wrote  of  the  death  of  Christ 
as  did  orthodox  Christians,  he  understood  it  in  a 
merely  Docetic  sense.  Nikephoros  I.  of  Constanti- 
nople (806-815)  quotes  a  sentence  from  a  lost  work 
of  Marcion  :  '  Christ  seemed  to  suffer  and  be  buried ' 
(Antirrhetika,  21,  in  Pitra,  Spicilegium  Solesmense, 
Paris,  1852,  i.  406).  Tertullian  devotes  adv.  Marc. 
iii.  8-11  (PL  ii.  331-336)  to  proving,  against  the 
heretic,  that  Christ  did  not  have  a  'corpus 
phantasticum. ' 

There  remains  Simon  Magus,  the  reputed  author 
of  Docetism,  as  of  all  Gnostic  theories  (Iren.  Hmr.  I. 
xxiii.  2 ;  II.  Prsef.  ;  HI.  Prsef.).  His  name  appears 
repeatedly  as  the  inventor  of  this  idea  ;  but  it  is 
very  doubtful  how  far  he  is  not  simply  a  type  to 
whom  all  Gnostic  developments  are  traced  back. 

Clement  of  Alexandria  refers  to  Docetes  (doKiral) 
in  Strom,  vii.  17  (PG  ix.  553) ;  in  iii.  13  (ib.  viii. 
1192  f.)  he  alludes  casually  to  a  certain  Julius 
Cassianus  ('Ioi)\tos  ~K.ao-o-io.vbs),  who,  he  says,  was 
the  leader  of  the  sect  of  Docetes  and  a  disciple 
of  Valentinus.  But  the  passage  tells  us  nothing 
about  Julius'  Docetic  ideas ;  the  fragments  that 
Clement  quotes  of  his  works  (ib.  iii.  13  and  14 
[PGviii.  1192-1196])  show  only  Encratism.  Jerome 
(Com.  in  Gal.  vi.  8  [PL  xxvi.  460])  repeats  that 
Cassianus  was  a  Docete.  Otherwise  nothing  is 
known  of  him. 

The  Docetes,  besides  their  principle  that  the 
Saviour  could  not  be  defiled  by  a  material  body, 
quoted  certain  texts  of  Scripture  in  favour  of  their 
view.  Marcion  made  much  of  Mt  1248,  as  showing 
that  Christ  had  no  mother  (adv.  Marc.  iv.  19  [PL 
ii.  404]).  He  also  quoted  Ro  83  (iv  o/ioidi/iari  aapnos) ; 
so  Nikephoros  (in  Pitra,  loc.  cit.).  On  the  other 
hand,  the  Fathers  had  no  lack  of  texts  to  quote 
against  Docetism.  The  Epistles  of  St.  John  sup- 
plied, of  course,  many  such.  Polycarp  quotes 
1  Jn  421-  (Phil.  vii.  1);  Ignatius  uses  Lk  24s9 
(Smym.  iii.  2).  Iren.  Hmr.  III.  xxii.  1-3  and 
Tert.  de  came  Christi,  15  (PL  ii.  779  f.),  are  good 
examples  of  contemporary  controversy  against 
Gnostic  Docetism.  It  may  be  noted,  too,  that 
the  body  of  Christ  in  the  Holy  Eucharist  is  fre- 
quently used  as  an  argument  against  Docetes. 
Already  in  the  time  of  Ignatius,  Docetes  '  abstain 
from  the  Eucharist  and  prayer  (irpoo-euxVy  prayer 
of  oblation  ?)  because  they  do  not  confess  that  the 
Eucharist  is  the  flesh  of  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ' 
(Smym.  vii.  1).  Irenseus  (Hmr.  IV.  xviii.  5,  V.  ii. 
2-3)  and  Tertullian  (adv.  Marc.  iv.  40)  use  the 
Eucharist  as  a  proof  of  the  reality  of  Christ's 
body. 

5.  Docetism  in  the  Fathers. — Certain  Fathers 
have  been  accused  of  Docetic  ideas.  We  have 
seen  that  Docetism  admits  of  many  degrees.  It 
may  be  a  question  whether  an  otherwise  orthodox 
Father  conceived  some  mild  form  of  it  with  regaid 
to  certain  incidents  of  Christ's  life.  The  Epistle 
of  Barnabas  has  been  accused  wrongly  (see  above, 
p.  833"),  nor  does  there  seem  to  he  any  foundation 
for  the  alleged  Docetism  of  Origen  (cf.  Harnack, 
i.  688).  The  case  of  Clement  of  Alexandria  is 
more  serious.  Photius  accuses  him  of  this  heresy 
(Biblioth.  109  [PG  ciii.  384]).  Yet  he  categorically 
rejects  it  (Strom,  vii.  17  [PG  ix.  553],  iii.  17  [viii. 
1205])  ;  he  says  that  our  Lord  was  really  a  man 


DOCETISM  (Buddhist) 


P35 


(Peed.  iii.  1  [viii.  556]),  speaks  of  His  flesh  and 
blood  (cf.  Strom,  v.  6  [ix.  58];  Peed.  ii.  2  [viii. 
409] ;  Quis  dives  salv.  37  [ix.  641]),  etc.  His 
alleged  Docetism  consists  of  an  idea  that  the  body 
of  Christ  was  not  subject  to  natural  desires,  nor 
His  soul  to  human  passions,  such  as  joy,  sorrow, 
etc.  (Strom,  vi.  9  [ix.  292] ;  Paid.  i.  2  [viii.  252]). 
And  in  his  Adumbr.  in  Joh.  i.  1  (PG  ix.  735)  he 
repeats,  as  a  tradition,  the  story  told  in  the  Acts 
of  John  (see  above,  p.  833b),  that  at  the  descent  from 
the  cross,  St.  John,  trying  to  touch  the  body  of 
Christ,  found  a  void  there  (the  legend  is  told  by 
Leukios  Charinos,  for  whom  see  Photius,  Bibl.  114 
[PG  ciii.  389]).  Hilary  is  quite  clear  as  to  the 
reality  of  the  body  of  Christ  and  its  natural  quali- 
ties (de  Trin.  x.  19  [PL  x.  357]) ;  but  he  calls  it 
a  'heavenly'  hody  (x.  18  [ib.]),  and  thinks  that 
Christ's  soul  was  not  naturally  subject  to  pain 
(x.  23  [ib.  361]).  This  idea,  not  uncommon  among 
the  Fathers,  occurs  as  a  supposed  consequence  of 
the  hypostatic  union,  and  can  hardly  he  considered 
Docetism  of  even  the  mildest  kind  (Harnack, 
ii.  316  f.). 

6.  The  Docetes  in  Hippolytus.  —  Hippolytus 
twice  describes  a  sect  whom  he  calls  Docetes 
(Philosoph.  viii.  8-11  [PG  xvi.  3347-3358]  and  x. 
16  [ib.  3434]).  These  people  seem  to  have  hardly 
anything  of  what  is  generally  called  Docetism ; 
their  use  of  the  name  is  difficult  to  explain. 
Hippolytus  says  they  call  themselves  Docetes 
(So/orris,  ib.  viii.  11) ;  he  explains  the  name  (ironi- 
cally) as  derived  from  the  beam  (So/c6s)  in  their 
eye  (Mt  73).  Their  system  ('a  much-tangled  and 
inconsistent  heresy'  [ib.  11])  is  one  of  the  many 
forms  of  tortuous  Gnostic  philosophy  about  the 
origin  of  the  universe.  God  is  like  a  grain  of  the 
fig-tree,  very  small  in  size,  infinite  in  power  of 
development.  From  the  seed  come  forth  three 
emanations — branches,  leaves,  fruit ;  so  from  God 
three  ^Eons,  and  all  other  things  from  them.  Each 
jEon  becomes  perfect,  that  is,  tenfold  ;  so  we  have 
30  jEons.  They  are  male  and  female  ;  they  gener- 
ate a  middle  Mon,  who  is  the  Saviour.  So  it  goes 
on.  One  jEon,  a  fire-god,  is  the  Creator-demiurge. 
Souls  transmigrate.  In  a  long  tangle  of  wild 
nonsense  the  only  trace  of  what  we  call  Docetism 
is  the  statement  that  our  Lord  (whose  life  was 
as  in  the  Gospels  [PG  xvi.  3355])  received  at  His 
baptism  another  body,  the  '  image  and  seal  of  the 
body  born  of  the  Virgin.'  "When  His  material 
body  was  crucified,  His  soul  put  on  this  other 
one,  evidently  a  spiritual  Docetic  body.  He  lived 
30  years,  in  each  year  manifesting  the  teaching 
of  a  different  Mon.  No  wonder,  then,  that  so 
many  different  heresies  can  appeal  to  His  teach- 
ing !  But  only  the  Docetes,  who  are  '  from  the 
middle  decad  and  the  best  ogdoad,'  can  really 
understand  Him.1 

7.  Later  Docetism. — The  Manichseans,  as  a  con- 
sequence of  their  dualism,  took  over  the  Docetic 
idea.  Augustine  represents  Faustus  as  denying 
the  birth  of  Christ  (c.  Faust,  ii.  1  [PL  xlii.  209]), 
as  describing  His  body  as  not  human  but  formed 
of  celestial  elements  (v.  1  [219] ;  cf.  xi.  1  [243]),  as 
denying  the  reality  of  His  passion  and  death  (xiv. 
2  [296]).  Mani's  Docetism  is  further  complicated 
by  a  curious  distinction  between  the  Iesus  impati- 
bilis,  who  is  '  living  spirit,'  and  the  Iesus  patibilis, 
who  is  the  Soul  of  the  world  (G.  Fliigel,  Mani,  seine 
Lehre  u.  seine  Schriften,  Leipzig,  1862,  pp.  35,  258, 
337  f.). 

Later  developments  of  Manichreism  continued 
the  Docetic  idea.  The  Priscillianists  in  Spain 
were    not   Docetes,    though    they   were   Dualists 

1  There  is  so  little  resemblance  between  the  ideas  of  Hippo- 
lytus' Docetes  and  ordinary  Docetism  that  Salmon  in  the_  DCB 
treats  them  separately  as  representing;  different  heresies  (i. 
865-870). 


(Prise.  Can.  17 ;  ed.  G.  Schepss,  Corp.  Script, 
eccl.  Latin,  xviii.  118,  Vienna,  1889).  But  the 
Cathari,  Albigenses  [q.v.  ;  see  especially  vol.  i. 
p.  281b),  and  other  mediteval  Manichaean  sects 
adopted  Docetism  as  part  of  their  system.  The 
Albigenses  carried  it  so  far  that  they  taught  that 
the  Virgin  Mary,  St.  Joseph,  St.  John,  as  well  as 
our  Lord  Himself,  were  all  angels  in  the  appear- 
ance of  men  (see  documents  in  Dollinger,  Beitrdge 
zur  Sektengesch.  des  Mittelalters,  Munich,  1890,  ii. 
34,  58,  66 f.,  etc.).  In  the  year  1017  a  Synod  at 
Orleans  condemned  a  number  of  heretics  who 
denied  the  reality  of  the  body  of  Christ  (Mansi, 
xix.  377  ;  Dollinger,  i.  65,  gives  the  date  as  1022). 
Pope  Leo  I.  accuses  the  Monophysites  of  Docetism 
(Ep.  xxvi.  [PL  liv.  745]  etc.).  There  is  something 
of  this  heresy  in  their  system  and  in  that  of  their 
predecessor  Apollinaris,  inasmuch  as  they  taught 
that  the  body  of  Christ,  absorbed  in  the  Divinity, 
lost  the  natural  qualities  of  human  flesh.  Julian 
of  Halicarnassus  (f  c.  518)  and  his  followers,  the 
Aphthartodoketai,  held  this  view  as  their  distin- 
guishing theory  (cf.  Liberatus,  Breviarium,  19  [PL 
lxviii.  10331]).  Muhammad  adopted  a  Docetic 
view  of  the  Crucifixion  (Qur'dn,  iii.  45,  tr.  E.  H. 
Palmer,  SBE  vi.  [1900]  53  and  n.  3).  Some  Ana- 
baptists were  Docetes  (see  Anabaptism,  vol.  i. 
E.  410).  Lastly,  various  modern  revivals  of  old 
eresies — theosophy  and  such  like — have  adopted 
Docetic  ideas.  Mrs.  Eddy  introduced  a  kind  of 
Docetism  as  part  of  her  'Christian  Science.'  Her 
literary  adviser,  Rev.  J.  H.  Wiggin,  recognized  her 
system  as  '  an  ignorant  revival '  of  Gnostic  and 
Docetic  theories  (G.  Milmine,  Life  of  M.  B.  G. 
Eddy,  London,  1909,  p.  337). 

Literature. — For  Gnostic  Docetism  the  chief  sources  are 
Irenasus,  adv.  Hmr.  (PG  vii.  437-1224);  Tertullian,  adv. 
Marcion.  (PL  ii.  243-524),  and  de  carne  Christi  (ib.  752-792) ; 
Hippolytus,  Philosophumena  (PG  xvi.  3347-3368,  3434)  ;  Clem. 
Alex.  Strom.  (PG  viii.  6S5-ix.  602),  and  Piedagog.  (PG  viii.  249- 
6S2).  For  Manich<ean  Docetism :  Augustine's  works  against 
the  Manichseans,  esp.  c.  Faust.  (PL  xlii.  207-518) ;  A.  Hilgen- 
feld,  Ketzergesch.  des  Urchristenthums,  Leipzig,  1884 ;  A. 
Harnack,  Lehrbuch  der  Dogmengesch.,  new  ed.,  3  vols., 
Tubingen,  1909-10  [Eng.  tr.  of  3rd  ed.,  7  vols.,  London,  1894-9]; 
F.  Chr.  Baiir.  Die  christliche  Gnosis.  Tubingen,  1835  ;  Hilgers, 
Erit.  Darstetlung  der  Hdresie,  Bonn,  1837 ;  L.  J.  Tixeront, 
Hist,  des  dogmes,  Paris,  1909,  i.  196-207;  G.  Salmon,  art.  in 
DCB;  J.  Arendzen,  art.  in  Cath.  Encyclopaedia;  G.  R.  S. 
Mead,  Fragments  of  a  Faith  Forgotten,  London,  1906. 

Adrian  Fortescue. 

DOCETISM  (Buddhist).— i.  Origin  and  nature. 
— Speaking  generally,  the  Buddhist  religion  has  a 
strong  tendency  towards  docetic  ideas  as  to  the 
personality  of  its  founder.  The  strictly  orthodox 
Theravadins  adhered  to  the  practical  moral  teach- 
ing of  the  Master,  and  limited  themselves  to  pious 
obedience  to  the  rules  and  traditions  of  the  com- 
munity. This  is  the  reason  why  they,  and  they 
alone,  resisted  strongly  the  docetic  tendency  of  the 
heterodox  Mahasahghikas.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  latter,  not  content  with  the  mere  formulse  of 
the  doctrine,  tried  in  various  ways  to  amplify  the 
teachings  of  the  Buddha  and  to  pursue  them  to 
their  respective  consequences.  The  more  they 
deified  the  Master  and  developed  the  idealistic 
sides  of  his  doctrines,  the  less  they  came  to  think 
of  his  historical  personality.  They  were  more 
broad-minded,  so  to  speak,  and  were  not  afraid  to 
fly  above  the  clouds  of  mythical  fancies  or  of  meta- 
physical speculations.  On  this  account  the  men  of 
this  tendency  called  themselves  the  Mahayanists, 
in  contrast  to  the  orthodox  Hinayanists  (see  artt. 
Mahayana,  HINAYANA),  though  the  origin  and 
date  of  the  former  are  still  involved  in  obscurity. 
In  this  way  we  may  fairly  say  that  the  Maha- 
yanists were  more  or  less  docetists,  as  their  mythic 
fancy  or  idealistic  speculation  laid  less  stress  on 
the  historical  Buddha. 

Though  a  sharp  demarcation  can  hardly  be  drawn  between 
these  two  forms  of  Buddhism  (the  Mahasanghikas,  for  example. 


836 


DOCBTISM  (Buddhist) 


stand  midway  between  them),  one  of  the  characteristic  differ- 
ences is  that  the  Hinayanists  believe  in  a  single  Buddha,  whereas 
many  Buddhas  are  recognized  by  the  Mahayanists.  The  former 
believe  in  Gautama  or  Sakyamuni  as  the  sole  Tathagata  who  is 
to  be  adored  in  this  world-period,  while  the  latter  see  in  him 
one  of  the  Buddhas  residing  in  various  Buddha-lands  and  in- 
fluencing believers.  The  Ekottara-dgama,*  the  Hahasaughika 
counterpart  of  the  Pali  Anguttara,  tells  of  Maudgalyayana's 
visit  to  the  land  of  the  Buddha  Sikhi.  This  belief  is  extended 
to  the  ten  directions,  in  each  of  which  there  is  a  Buddha-land, 
where  a  Buddha  or  many  Buddhas  reside  in  the  state  of  bliss 
and  attract  their  respective  believers.  It  was  inevitable,  when 
faith  was  in  this  way  extended  to  mythical  Buddhas,  that  the 
concentration  of  belief  in  the  actual  Buddha  should  become 
more  difficult  or  less  necessary,  and  that  the  historical  person- 
ality of  the  present  Buddha  should  become  more  and  more 
ephemeral  and  rarefied.  This  mythologizing  and  mystifying 
process  of  Buddhological  speculations  went  on  parallel  or  con- 
jointly with  the  metaphysical  identification  of  all  the  Buddhas 
in  their  essential  reality.  A  Buddha  appeared  once  in  this 
world-period,  and  his  historicity  is  established  ;  but  the  import- 
ance and  significance  of  his  personality  do  not  lie  in  his  actual 
life,  but  in  his  connexion  with  the  universal  Buddhahood,  the 
so-called  Dharmakdya  (see  below). 

Thus,  dooetiam,  or,  to  speak  more  generally,  the 
doeetic  tendency  in  Buddhism,  made  its  progress  in 
two  ways  :  one  the  way  of  mythical  fancies  about 
the  Buddha's  superhuman  qualities,  and  the  other 
that  of  metaphysical  speculations  on  his  personality 
as  a  Tathagata  and  on  its  relations  with  the  truth 
(dharma)  which  he  revealed.  So  long  and  so  far 
as  the  faith  of  Buddhists  in  the  Master  amounted 
to  the  reverence  paid  towards  a  sage  who,  having 
practised  all  the  three  branches  of  the  Buddhist 
training,  attained  Buddhahood  and  led  his  followers 
in  the  same  way,  the  Buddha  remained  a  Tatha- 
gata who,  starting  from  the  position  of  a  human 
being,  attained  to  his  superhuman  (Pali  manus- 
suttara)  state.2  Whatever  his  merits  and  powers, 
his  earthly  life  was  believed  to  have  been  as  real 
as  that  of  any  other  human  being.  But,  as  soon 
as  the  pious  thoughts  of  believers  began  to  place 
him  side  by  side  with  a  mythical  Chakravartin  or 
to  make  him  far  superior  to  the  highest  deity 
Brahma,  whether  in  his  lifetime  or  after  his  death, 
his  personality  became  more  mythical  and  less 
human.  Progress  along  this  line  is  seen  in  the 
myth  of  his  pre-existence  in  the  Tusita  heaven 
and  also  in  various  Jdtakas  and  Nidanas  (such  as 
that  of  the  king  Sudassana) ;  and  the  tendency 
reached  its  acme  in  the  mythologizing  biographies, 
like  that  of  the  Mahdvastu  or  Lalitavistara.  Of 
course,  these  mythologizers  did  not  all  go  so  far  as 
to  deny  the  reality  of  the  Buddha's  earthly  life,  yet 
their  ideas  verged  on  docetism  and  had  a  close 
kinship  with  the  decidedly  doeetic  theories,  or  at 
least  supplied  the  materials  to  docetists. 

Though  the  development  of  these  ideas  and  their  mutual 
relations  cannot  now  be  traced  historically,  it  seems  nearly 
certain  that  the  mythologizing  began  soon  after  the  Master's 
death,  and  found  many  adherents  outside  of  the  pale  of  the 
strictly  orthodox  teachers.  The  resistance  of  the  orthodox 
Theravadins  to  this  stream  of  thought  is  clearly  seen  in  the 
Theses  (Kathavatthu),  composed  in  the  reign  of  Asoka.3  The 
materials  and  composition  of  the  Mahdvastu,  above  referred  to, 
may  be  earlier  than,  or  contemporary  with,  this  orthodox  de- 
fence of  the  historicity  of  the  Buddha's  life. 

A  more  powerful  impetus  to  doeetic  tendencies 
was  supplied  by  the  philosophical  speculations  con- 
tained even  in  Buddha's  own  teaching.  The  five 
skandhas,  under  which  he  classified  the  constituents 
of  our  bodily  and  mental  life,  had  been  declared  to 
possess  no  final  reality.  He  also  emphasized  the 
lllusiveness  of  the  six  senses  and  of  the  desires 
arising  from  them.4  In  short,  the  Buddhist  ideal 
of  an  Arhat  or  of  a  Buddha  consisted  in  transcend- 

1  Preserved  in  a  Chinese  tr.  (Nanjio,  Catal.,  Oxf.  1883,  no.  643). 

2  The  present  writer  cannot  agree  with  Kern  (Manual,  Strass- 
burg,  1896,  p.  64)  in  explaining  Ahguttara,  iv.  36,  in  a  doeetic 
sense.  There  the  expression  '  not  man  '  is  to  be  understood  in 
the  sense  '  not  a  common  man,'  i.e.  that  he  is  in  the  world  but 
undeflled  by  the  world,  as  is  said  in  Afig.  iv.  36  ;  Sarh.  22,  94, 
etc.    On  this  point  other  passages  might  be  adduced. 

3  Kathavatthu,  xviii.  1. 

*  See  Saihyutta,  xxii.,  xxv.;  Uddna,  i.  10,  viii.  1 ;  Digha,  11 ; 
Kevaddha  Sutta  (tr.  Warren,  Buddhism  in  Translations,  Cam- 
bridge, Mass.,  1896,  pp.  308-313),  etc. 


ing  the  passions  and  turbulence  of  physical  life, 
and  in  finally  overcoming  life  and  death.  Though 
the  Buddha  was  not  a  nihilist,  it  was  not  without 
reason  that  his  doctrines  were  charged  with  being 
'  a  nihilistic  wisdom '  (sunndgara-hata  panria). 
Vacuity  (suhnata)  was  one  of  his  most  important 
tenets,  and,  though  this  final  vacuity  could  be 
attained  only  after  the  cessation  of  the  bodily  life, 
the  aim  of  a  Buddhist  sage  was  to  realize  this  ideal, 
among  others,  even  in  this  life.  Thus  arose  the 
question  whether  the  Tathagata  existed  or  not 
after  his  death.  Though  this  question  was  not 
answered  in  the  negative  (or  in  the  affirmative), 
and  though  it  did  not  raise  the  question  of  the 
reality  of  the  Master's  earthly  life,  the  solution 
turned  inevitably  in  the  direction  of  docetism, 
when  the  transient  life  on  earth  was  contrasted 
with  the  profound  abyss  of  the  vacuity  beyond. 
The  vacuity  of  the  phenomenal  world  was  still 
more  emphasized  in  the  later  'non-mark'  (alaksana) 
philosophy  of  the  Mahayana  school,  and  it  became 
a  decidedly  doeetic  theory,  as  applied  to  the  per- 
sonality of  Buddha. 

Another  direction  taken  by  Buddhist  philosophy 
had  its  origin  in  the  emphasis  laid  on  the  reality  of 
the  truths  (dharma)  revealed  by  the  Buddha.  His 
personality  and  his  personal  life  are  not  ignored, 
but  he  is  the  Master  and  the  Tathagata,  because 
he  taught  men  truths  according  to  reality  (yatha- 
bhutam,  tathataya).  These  truths  are  set  forth, 
first  of  all,  apparently  in  his  sermons  and  doctrines 
(dharma),  but  they  are  universal  in  their  nature  as 
truths  (dharmata),  and  the  capacity  or  dignity  of 
a  Buddha  is  due  to  the  realization  of  them.  So  it 
is  said  that  all  the  Buddhas  have  attained  their 
Buddhahood  by  respecting  these  truths  and  living 
according  to  them.1  Moreover,  they  are.  stable 
(dhamma-tithitd)  and  fixed  (dhamma-niyamata),'2 
whether  the  Tathagata  arises  or  not  in  this  world. 
Buddha's  own  utterance  that  he  who  sees  the 
dhamma  sees  him,  and  vice  versa,'  brings  out 
clearly  the  identification  of  his  personality  with 
the  truths,  and  this  may  further  be  noted  as  im- 
plying a  distinction  between  his  transitory  life 
and  his  life  as  the  Tathagata  according  to  truth. 
Here  we  have  the  clue  to,  and  the  source  of,  the 
idea  of  the  dharmakdya,  i.e.  the  Buddha's  per- 
sonality identified  with  dharma  and  opposed  to  his 
physical  life.  Though  the  followers  of  this  school, 
sometimes  called  the  Dharmalaksana,  do  not  deny 
the  reality  of  a  corporeal  existence  of  the  Tathagata, 
they  are  always  inclined  to  emphasize  the  meta- 
physical or  transcendental  side  of  the  Buddha's 
personality,  and  to  regard  his  earthly  life  as  a  mere 
manifestation  or  a  condescension  for  the  sake  of 
common  mortals.  The  tendency  is  manifested  in 
the  Lalitavistara,1  and  is  represented  chiefly  by  the 
Suvarnaprabhd  and  the  Saddharmapundarika. 
Those  who  developed  from  this  thought  a  system- 
atic Trinitarian  theory  were  Asvaghosa  (q.v.)  and 
Vasubandhu  (q.v.),  whose  followers  in  this  re- 
spect are  the  majority  of  Buddhists  in  the  Far 
East. 

2.  The  Mahasanghikas. — While  the  orthodox 
Theravadins  adhered  strictly  to  the  realistic  view 
of  the  person  of  their  Master,  the  heterodox  pro- 
gressionists, or  Mahasanghikas,  boldly  proceeded 
to  idealize  the  Tathagata.  This  tendency  had  long 
been  fostered,  as  we  have  seen,  and  the  materials 
for  it  were  ready  to  hand  in  the  belief  in  the 
Buddha's  pre-existences  both  in  this  world  and  in 
the  Tusita  heaven.     The  results  of  the  idealization, 

1  Sarh.  6. 1. 1 ;  Ang.  iv.  21. 

2  See  Ang.  iii.  134  (Warren,  Buddhism  in  Translations,  p.  xiv, 
where  the  translation  does  not  bring  out  the  full  sense  of  the 
word  dhamma),  and  Sarh.  12.  20.  The  same  idea  is  expressed 
in  the  Saddharmapundarika,  ch.  ii.  w.  100-103  (w.  99-102  in 
Kern's  tr.  SBE,  vol.  xxi.  p.  53). 

S  Itiv.  92.  *  ed.  Lefmann,  Halle,  1902,  pp.  436-4S7. 


DOCBTISM  (Buddhist) 


837 


according  to  the  authority  of  Vasumitra,'  mani- 
fested themselves  clearly  in  the  schism  of  the 
schools,  the  orthodox  and  the  heterodox.  The 
idealizing  process  led  to  the  identifying  of  the 
actual  Buddha,  in  the  essence  of  his  personality, 
with  all  the  Buddhas  of  the  past,  and  thus  to 
the  neglecting  of  his  historical  personality.  It 
was  thought  and  taught  that  all  the  Buddhas  were 
beyond  worldly  fetters  (lokottara)  and  freed  from 
all  human  passions.  This  is  not  very  heterodox, 
but  the  Mahasanghikas  further  argued  that  the 
single  utterances  of  every  Tathagata  implied  the 
revelation  of  all  truths  at  once.  The  physical  body 
(riipakaya)  of  a  Tathagata,  they  taught,  has  no 
limit  in  space,  his  virtues  and  powers  are  infinite, 
and  his  life  has  an  immeasurable  duration.  How 
they  thought  of  the  inlinity  of  the  physical  body  is 
unknown,  but  probably  they  identified  his  per- 
sonality with  the  cosmos  (dharmad/ultu)  itself,  as 
was  done  by  the  later  Mahayanists  and  Tantrists 
(see  below).  Further,  they  taught  that  the  Buddha 
neither  sleeps  nor  dreams.  He  is  all  the  time  in 
the  state  of  complete  union  with  all  truths,  in  a 
deepcontemplation,  yoga  (here  we  have  a  trace  of 
the  Adibuddha  [q.v.]  or  Dhyanibuddha),  and  there- 
fore what  he  preaches  is  expressed  by  no  notions  or 
names.  He  is  omniscient,  comprehending  all  things 
at  once,  in  the  thought  of  one  single  moment, 
because  in  his  mind  is  always  present  the  mystic 
store  of  the  prajna  wisdom.  In  his  thought  are 
constantly  present  at  the  same  time  the  wisdom  of 
extinction  (kslna-prajnd,  i.e.  the  consciousness  that 
all  pains  are  extinguished)  and  the  wisdom  of  non- 
growth  (anutpdda-prajna,  i.e.  in  which  is  assured 
extinction  in  the  future  for  ever).  In  these  theses 
we  see  an  idealizing  identification  of  the  Buddha's 
person  with  a  universal  Buddhahood,  despite  times 
and  circumstances,  the  essential  quality  of  a  Buddha 
being  his  identification  with  the  universe. 

Quite  naturally  from  these  fundamental  ideas  is 
deduced  the  illusiveness  of  the  corporeal  life  of  a 
Buddha  or  of  a  Bodhisattva,  i.e.  of  one  who  is  pre- 
paring for  Buddhahood.  'All  Bodhisattvas,'  the 
Mahasanghikas  say,  '  enter  the  mother's  womb, 
but  they  do  not  take  up  (the  successive  stages  of 
embryonic  development)  kalalama,  arbuda,  peii, 
and  ghana  in  their  own  bodies.'  They  would  be 
born  in  the  various  forms  of  transmigration,  as 
brutes  or  as  human  beings,  as  told  in  Jatakas ; 
but  this  happens  not  by  necessity,  but  owing  to 
their  own  decision  and  for  the  purposes  of  accumu- 
lating merit  and  of  leading  other  beings  to  salva- 
tion. Their  bodies  are  furnished  with  sense  organs, 
which  seem  to  be  sometimes  attached,  sometimes 
unattached,  to  outward  objects,  and  appear  to  be 
nourished  by  the  bodies.  Nevertheless,  the  Bodhi- 
sattvas do  not  see  forms  and  colours  by  eyes,  or 
hear  sounds  by  ears,  or  smell  by  noses,  or  taste  by 
tongues,  nor  have  their  bodies  any  real  sense  of 
touch ;  but  their  minds  receive  all  impressions  at 
once  and  thoroughly  (this  state  is  called  the  sama- 
kfsana  [?]).  What  they  utter  in  speech  or  act  by 
body  is  done  for  the  sake  of  others,  in  order  to 
enlighten  them.  Therefore,  when  all  is  done  that 
is  to  be  done  (krta-karanlya),  they  shut  themselves 
out  from  all  outward  impressions  and  objects.  In 
short,  they  are  supra-men,  and  their  physical  lives 
are  mere  appearance,  in  contrast  with  their  eter- 
nally serene  essence. 

Thus  we  see  that  the  Mahasanghikas  were 
thorough  docetists,  whose  ideas  seem  to  have 
proceeded  parallel  or  conjointly  with  the  mytho- 
logizing  of  the  Buddha's  life,  as  we  see  it  in  the 
Mahavastu  or  the  Lalitavistara.2 

1  See  Wassilieff,  Buddhismus,  pp.  258-262.  The  following 
statements  as  regards  a  Buddha  and  Bodhisattvas  are  founded 
on  this  authority. 

2  See  Mahavastu,  ed.  Senart,  Paris,  1890,  and  his  Essai  sur 
la  ligende  de  Buddha*,   Paris,  1882.      The    present    Sanskrit 


3.  The  Prajna  school. — Though  the  name  praji'id 
meant  originally  intellectual  training  in  general, 
it  became  gradually  restricted  to  the  exercise 
of  contemplation  transcending  all  discursive  and 
rational  knowledge.  The  content  of  this  kind 
of  meditation  amounts  to  transcending  self  and 
all  actual  aspects  of  things,  and  ascending  to  the 
highest  region  of  mystic  union  {yoga).  In  the 
Buddha's  teaching  we  repeatedly  find  admonitions 
to  this  exercise,  and  it  is  said  that  his  profound 
doctrine  consisted  in  the  teaching  of  vacuity 
(sunnatd,  Skr.  iiinyata).1  Among  his  disciples 
Subhuti  is  praised  by  the  Master  as  the  foremost 
of  those  who  practised  this  method  of  contempla- 
tion among  forest  trees,  as  the  man  of  meditation 
abandoning  every  thought  of  visible  forms.2  It  is 
he  to  whom  are  ascribed  the  occasions  of  the  con- 
versations on  the  subject,  and  the  various  texts 
known  as  the  Prajna-pdramitd  are  handed  down 
to  us  bearing  his  name.  Though  the  longest  of 
the  texts  is  said  to  contain  100,000  Hokas,  the  gist 
of  the  whole  amounts  to  nothing  but  the  vacuity 
of  all  phenomena.  All  possible  arguments,  in- 
cluding a  number  of  similes  and  parables,  etc.,  are 
used  to  convince  man  of  the  non-reality  of  what 
is  deemed  by  the  common  mind  to  be  reality. 
Thus  it  is  quite  natural  that  the  argument  should 
be  applied  to  the  person  of  Buddha,  and  a  most 
decided  docetism  is  represented  by  this  group  of 
texts  and  its  followers,  whom  we  would  now  call 
the  Prajna,  or  Alaksana,  school. 

Seeing  the  non-entity  of  everything  phenomenal, 
and  attaining  to  the  height  of  mystic  contempla- 
tion, one  could  realize  in  himself  the  depth  of  the 
prajiia  wisdom.3  Buddhahood  is  the  position 
wherein  this  wisdom  is  fully  enlightened  and  the 
highest  illumination  is  seen  face  to  face.  Even 
when  denying  any  reality,  the  Prajna  school  could 
not  deny  the  reality  of  this  state  of  illumination. 
Not  only  are  a  hundred  thousand  words  and  phrases 
used  to  describe  this  condition,  but  it  is  regarded 
as  the  most  real  of  realities  and  is  called  the  mother 
of  all  the  Buddhas,  the  source  from  which  they 
derive  their  enlightenment.  Thus  the  innermost 
qualities  of  Buddhahood  can  be  sought  nowhere 
else  than  in  the  profound  abyss  of  the  prajna. 
The  natural  consequence  of  this  thought  is  that 
the  earthly  life  of  the  Buddha  Sakyamuni,  includ- 
ing its  incidents  and  his  teachings,  is  in  reality 
nothing  but  illusion,  like  all  other  phenomena  of 
the  visible  world  (loka).  As  the  five  constituents 
(skandhas)  of  the  visible  world  are  mere  mani- 
festations of  what  is  in  itself  beyond  all  these 
forms,  so  the  person  of  Sakyamuni  is  a  perfect 
manifestation  of  omniscience  (sarvajna  -  plana) 
which  consists  in  the  full  realization  of  vacuity. 
All  that  he  did  and  preached  during  his  lifetime 
was  only  a  matter  of  pedagogic  (upaya-kauialya), 
intended  to  admonish  men  to  the  exercise  of  the 
method  and  to  lead  them .  to  this  ultimate  truth. 
He  showed  himself  to  have  accumulated  all  pos- 
sible merits  of  the  six  Paramitas  and  to  have 
accomplished  his  attainments  in  behaviour  (ilia), 
contemplation  (samadhi),  wisdom  (prajna),  de- 
liverance (vimukti),  and  the  realization  of  the 
knowledge  leading  to  it  (vimukti-jnana-dar&ana) ; 
but  all  these  were  done  not  for  himself,  but  for  the 
text  is  said  to  belong  to  the  Mahasahghika  school,  but,  accord- 
ing to  the  Chinese  version  (Nanjio,  no.  680),  it  used  to  be 
revered  by  the  other  schools  also.  We  can  trace  the  develop- 
ment of  the  legends  and  materials  from  the  Pali  Vinaya  (with 
which  the  Mahi^asaka  and  the  Dharmagupta  traditions  stand 
nearly  on  the  same  level)  to  the  Sarvastivada  Vinaya  (Nanjio, 
no.  1121)  and  then  to  the  present  text.  The  accumulation  of 
biographical  materials  with  addition  of  niddnas  and  avaddnas, 
and  the  adoration  of  the  life  incidents  through  mythologizing, 
can  be  exhibited  by  bringing  these  texts  together  in  a  series. 

1  See  above,  p.  836.  2  Aiig.  i.  14.  2  ;  Udana,  6.  7. 

3  The  following  statements  are  founded  mostly  on  the  A§ta~ 
sahasrika,  esp.  pp.  58,  135  f.,  256-276,  306-308,  612  f.  (ed.  Mitra, 
Calcutta,  1888). 


838 


DOCETISM  (Buddhist) 


sake  of  common  men,  in  order  to  admonish  (anumo- 
dana)  them  to  similar  attainments. 

The  final  extinction  (parinirvdna)  of  his  physical 
body  was,  of  course,  not  the  end  of  a  mortal,  but 
was  meant  to  be  a  visible  example  of  ultimate 
absorption  into  the  depth  of  vacuity.  This  applies 
to  all  Buddhas,  past  as  well  as  future,  who  are 
infinite  in  number  and  nothing  but  individualized 
manifestations  of  the  mother  Prajfia.  The  name 
Buddha  means  the  one  who  has  realized  the  omni- 
science of  the  truth  and  identified  himself  with 
vacuity ;  and  Tathagata  is  a  title  applied  to  him 
on  account  of  his  revelation  of  this  ultimate  truth 
(tathata)  of  vacuity.  Common  men  see  in  him 
one  who  has  attained  this  truth  by  the  accom- 
plishments of  Buddhahood  (i.e.  tathd-gata),  and 
who  has  appeared  among  men  to  reveal  it  to  them 
(i.e.  tathd-dgata).  But,  just  as  every  phenomenon 
leaves  no  trace  (apada)  either  of  whence  it  comes 
or  of  whither  it  goes,  so  the  Tathagata  in  reality 
comes  from  nowhere  (na,  agamana)  and  goes  to 
nowhere  (na  gamana).  In  this  respect  he  is  like 
space,  and  his  person  has  essentially  nothing  other 
than  the  ultimate  quality  of  all  things,  vacuity. 
The  thirty-two  special  marks  attributed  to  him 
are  in  reality  '  non-marks '  (alaksana),  and  '  non- 
mark  '  is  the  characteristic  of  any  Tathagata.  He 
teaches  men  and  leads  them  to  deliverance  ;  still 
they  are  mere  illusions,  and  the  Tathagata  con- 
vinces them  of  their  own  vacuity.  If  this  para- 
doxical argument  be  followed  out,  the  conclusion 
runs  as  follows : 

'  They  who  Baw  me  by  form,  and  they  who  heard  me  by 

sound, 
They  engaged  in  false  endeavours,  will  not  see  me. 
A  Buddha  is  to  be  seen  from  the  Law  (dharmatas) ;  for  the 

Lords  have  the  Law-body  (dharmakdya'); 
And  the  nature  of  the  Law  cannot  be  understood,  nor  can 

it  be  made  to  be  understood.' J 

4.  Nagarjuna. — We  do  not  know  where  or  when 
these  Prajfia  texts  originated.  But  we  have  before 
us  one  of  them  translated  into  Chinese  in  the  2nd 
cent.  A.D.  (Nanjio,  no.  5).  A  tradition  says  that 
the  Astasahasrika  was  first  preserved  in  Southern 
India,  and  was  then  transmitted  to  the  West  and 
to  the  North  of  India."  Whatever  the  authenticity 
of  the  tradition  may  be,  we  see  in  Nagarjuna, 
who  is  believed  to  have  lived  in  Southern  India  in 
the  2nd  or  3rd  cent. ,  a  conspicuous  propounder  of 
the  doctrine.  He  was  a  great  dialectician,  and 
pursued  the  negative  dialectics  of  the  Prajfia  school 
till  he  reached  a  complete  denial  of  any  definite 
thought  about  anything,  especially  in  his  Madhya- 
mika-idstra  (Nanjio,  no.  1179).  In  the  22nd  chapter 
of  this  treatise  he  denies  step  by  step  every  quality 
thinkable  of  the  person  of  the  Tathagata.  He  has 
no  physical  body  ;  yet,  apart  from  physical  body 
(which  is  in  reality  vacuity),  there  is  no  existence. 
He  has  no  mind ;  yet,  apart  from  mind,  he  is  an 
inconceivable  thing.  Inconceivable  and  unthink- 
able as  he  is,  he  is  not  a  non-existence.  Being 
{sat)  or  non-being  (asat)  is  never  to  be  predicated 
of  him,  because  both  are  illusions.  He  is  neither 
a  being  nor  a  non-being,  neither  a  non- being  nor 
a  non-nonbeing.  In  short,  he  has  no  substance 
(dtma-bhdva),  just  as  every  other  being,  both  in 
his  lifetime  and  after  his  death,  has  none.  Any 
attribute,  any  thought  of  his  substance,  is  to  be 
denied,  and  thorough  negations  of  relativities 
could  lead  to  the  deep  insight  into  it  in  which  is 
realized  the  contemplation  otprajiia. 

Thoroughgoing  docetist  as  Nagarjuna  was,  he 
did  not  deny  the  historicity  of  the  Buddha's  life, 
and  thus  was  compelled  to  distinguish  between  the 
empirical  and  the  transcendental  standpoints  in 
his  Buddhology.  This  distinction  is  pointed  out 
in  his  commentary 3   on   the  Satasahasrikd,   the 

1  Vajracchedhika  (SBE  xlix.  140-141). 

2  A^asdhas-ikd,  pp.  224-245.  3  Nanjio,  no.  1169. 


largest  of  the  Prajfia  texts.  In  this  work  he  does 
not  employ  negative  dialectics,  but  endeavours  to 
state  the  common  view,  i.e.  the  so-called  Hina- 
yanist  standpoint,  faithfully,  according  to  its 
adherents,  and  then  to  elevate  it  to,  or  explain 
it  away  from,  his  own  transcendental,  i.e.  Maha- 
yanist,  standpoint.  Thus  he  admits  therein  the 
actuality  of  the  occurrences  and  teachings  in  the 
Buddha's  lifetime.  In  this  respect  his  treatise  is 
a  kind  of  encyclopaedia  of  Buddhist  legends  and 
doctrines,  and  the  author  reproduces  faithfully 
the  anti-docetic  arguments,  as  found  in  the  Kathd- 
vatthu  (or  elsewhere),  enumerating  the  incidents 
of  the  Buddha's  life  and  their  respective  scenes. 
But  Nagarjuna's  arguments  run  finally  to  the  con- 
clusion that  all  these  earthly  incidents  belonged 
to  the  phenomena  of  the  Buddha's  physical  body 
(jatakaya,  i.  e.  '  born  in  flesh '),  in  contrast  with 
his  real  substance  (dharmakdya,  also  called  dtma- 
bhavakdya  and  prajndkdya).  The  former  view  is 
admitted  from  the  standpoint  of  the  earthly  prin- 
ciple (loka-artha),  and  the  latter  is  the  only  true 
view  according  to  the  first  principle  (parama- 
artha)  of  Prajfia.  The  thirty-two  marks,  etc., 
may  be  attributed  to  a  Buddha  only  from  the 
former  point  of  view,  and  the  final  truth  should 
amount  to  non-marks  (alaksana).  If  the  dharma- 
kdya should  be  stated  positively,  it  fills  up  the 
infinite  space  in  all  directions,  being  furnished 
with  all  possible  and  imaginable  qualities  and 
dignities.  Its  activities  have  no  limit ;  it  preaches 
ceaselessly,  and  leads  all  beings  to  enlightenment 
with  every  means  and  method  beyond  our  imagina- 
tions. The  jatakaya  may  be  of  any  number  and 
of  any  kind,  the  Buddha  Sakyamuni  being  one  of 
them,  and  the  most  conspicuous  to  every  eye  in 
this  world-period.  Yet  he  was  a  mere  manifesta- 
tion of  the  true  body,  adapted  to  the  needs  of 
common  men,  who  could  be  educated  only  by  a 
phenomenal  manifestation  and  by  verbal  teachings 
of  the  Tathagata,  appearing  in  a  physical  body 
like  themselves.  The  sunlight  pervades  every- 
where in  space,  but  it  can  be  seen  by  physical 
eyes  only  when  reflected  from  a  material  body. 

Thus  Nagarjuna  does  not  wholly  reject  the 
existence  of  an  historical  Buddha,  but  this  is  a 
concession  made  to  the  common  view,  just  as  the 
physical  life  of  a  Tathagata  is  a  condescension  for 
the  sake  of  ordinary  men.  Yet  it  is  undeniable 
that  Nagarjuna's  speculations  proceeded  from 
faith  in  ^akyamuni's  personality  as  a  Buddha ; 
hence  he  recognizes  a  distinct  personality  in 
Sakyamuni,  as  one  of  the  innumerable  Buddhas, 
and  his  descriptions  of  the  Buddha's  life  and 
capacities  are  on  the  same  lines  as  in  the  other 
forms  of  Buddhism.  In  short,  Nagarjuna's  docet- 
ism  was  a  necessary  consequence  of  his  philosophi- 
cal standpoint ;  but  his  Buddhology  is  characterized 
by  a  sharp  distinction  between  the  jatakaya  and 
the  dharmakdya,  in  emphasizing  the  sole  reality 
of  the  latter  according  to  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciple of  the  Prajfia  doctrine,  and  in  admitting  the 
historicity  of  the  Buddha's  life  as  a  concession  to 
the  common  view,  and  also  as  a  manifestation  of 
the  Buddha's  mercy  and  potency  for  the  sake  of 
the  beings  to  be  led. 

5.  Eternal  Buddhahood. — Just  as  in  Christianity 
the  dogmas  of  homoousia  and  the  Trinity  stood 
in  opposition  to  Docetism,  so  we  see,  in  Buddhist 
history,  similar  aspects  of  the  Buddhological  specu- 
lations opposed  to  pronounced  docetism.  But  most 
Buddhist  thinkers  had  hardly  reached  a  clear  under- 
standing of  the  demarcation  between  docetism  and 
anti-docetism,  and  even  among  those  Mahayanists 
who,  upon  the  whole,  occupied  an  anti-docetic 
standpoint  very  few  combated  docetic  tendencies 
so  decidedly  as  the  earlier  Theravadins.  The 
truths   (dharma)   revealed    by   the   Buddha    con- 


DOCETISM  (Buddhist) 


839 


tinued  to  hold  the  first  place,  and  his   person, 
Tathagata,  the  second. 

In  this  way  a  derivation  of  the  personal  Buddha 
from  the  original  universality  of  the  Truth  or 
Buddhahood  constantly  taxed  their  ingenuity. 
Many  thinkers  tried  to  solve  the  problems  in  a 
way  very  similar  to  the  Christian  theories  of  the 
Logos  and  kenosis,  but  with  this  difference,  that 
their  ideas  constantly  verged  on  a  docetic  tendency 
in  emphasizing  the  Buddhahood  a  priori,  thus 
sacrificing  more  or  less  the  actuality  of  the 
Buddha's  life.  Some  of  them  laid  special  stress 
upon  the  eight  (or  four)  important  incidents  in  his 
life  as  the  '  signs '  (laksana)  of  his  Buddhahood ; 
yet  those  signs  were  merged  in  the  all-absorbing 
universality  or  monotony  repeated  in  the  career 
of  each  of  the  innumerable  Buddhas.  Even  the 
anti-docetic  Theravadins  saw  in  Sakyamuni  one 
of  the  Buddhas  who  appeared  in  the  past  and  will 
appear  in  the  future,  and  so  his  Buddhahood  was 
made  to  consist  in  the  realization  of  the  one  road 
(ekayana)  common  to  all  Buddhas.1  This  capacity 
or  dignity  of  a  Buddha  is  expressed  by  means  of 
the  appellation  Tathagata.  Hence  the  questions 
arise  whether  the  various  Buddhas,  though  indi- 
vidualized in  personal  distinctions,  are  one  in 
substance,  and  whether  the  true  personality  of  the 
present  Buddha  should  be  sought  beyond  his 
earthly  life. 

A  solution  of  those  questions  was  attempted  in  the  Suvama- 
prabhd?  which  took  the  question  of  the  duration  of  the 
Tathagata's  life  (Tathdgata-dyus-pramdna)  as  its  text.  In 
order  to  answer  this  question  raised  by  an  inquirer,  the  Buddha 
manifests  himself  in  heavenly  brilliancy,  surrounded  by  the 
Tathagatas  Aksobhya,  Ratnaketu,  Amifcabha,  and  Dundu- 
bhisVara  on  four  sides  ;  the  questioner  utters  verses  in  praise  and 
admiration  of  the  Buddha's  infinite  life.  Further,  it  is  ex- 
plained that  his  appearance  in  this  world  is  with  a  view  to  the 
education  of  common  mortals  (sattvdnam  paripdchdya),  in  a 
way  adapted  to  their  capacities.  Thus  what  is  essential  in  a 
Tathagata  is  not  his  temporary  appearance  (nirmita-kdya),  but 
the  eternal  and  universal  life,  in  full  possession  of  the  Truths, 
i.e.  the  dharmakdya  (or  dkarma-dhdtu),  of  which  any  particular 
Buddha  partakes,  and  on  account  of  which  he  becomes  a 
Buddha.3  '  All  the  Buddhas  are  identical  in  their  substance 
(sama-varna) ; 4  therein  lies  the  essence  (dharmatd)  of  the 
Buddhas.  The  Revered  One  is  not  a  maker,  nor  the  Tathagata 
a  born  one.'  Thus  the  universal  predominates  over  the 
particular,  and  a  docetic  tendency  is  manifest  in  this  idealistic 
speculation  in  connexion  with  the  mythologizing  processes. 

Another  book,  the  '  Lotus  of  the  True  Law '  (Saddharma- 
pwntfarika),5  tries  to  answer  the  same  question  on  similar  lines, 
and  on  a  grander  scale,  but  in  a  less  docetic  fashion.  We  might 
call  this  book  '  the  Johannine  Gospel  of  Buddhism,'  and  the 
quintessence  of  the  whole  argument  consists  in  identifying  the 
actual  Buddha  with  the  Buddha  who  had  no  beginning.  His 
appearance  in  this  world  as  Sakyamuni  was  '  for  the  sole  object, 
the  sole  aim,  ...  of  exhibiting  to  all  beings  the  sight  of  the 
Buddha ;  ...  of  opening  the  eyes  to  the  sight  of  Tathagata- 
knowledge.'6  For  this  purpose,  for  the  sake  of  all  beings,  the 
Buddha  adopted  the  expedient  (updya-kauialya)  of  being  born 
among  the  Sakyas,  and  manifested  himself  to  have  attained 
Buddhahood  under  the  Bodhi  tree,  near  Gaya,  and  to  have 
entered  into  nirvana.  But  in  reality  he  has  neither  beginning 
nor  end.  He  existed  from  eternity,  and  is  to  live  for  ever.' 
Thus  the  second  chapter  of  the  book,  which  explains  the  cause 
and  purpose  of  the  Buddha's  appearance,  forms  the  centre  of 
the  introductory  part ;  the  fifteenth,  which  reveals  the  eternity 
of  his  essence,  the  centre  of  the  middle,  or  main  part ;  and  the 
twentieth,  the  centre  of  the  concluding  part,  shows  the  effi- 
ciency of  the  Buddha's  teaching  and  authority  for  ever  in  the 
future.  In  other  words,  we  have  in  the  first  place  the  actual 
appearance  of  the  Buddha  among  men,  as  their  father  and  the 
Lord  of  the  world  ; 8  then  is  revealed  the  original  (agra)  essence 
of  the  TathAgata,  existing  and  acting  from  eternity  (chiram)  ; 
in  the  conclusion  we  have  the  assurance  of  the  endurance  of  his 
personal  influence  as  well  as  the  mission  of  the  Paraclete,  so  to 
speak,  who  is  to  appear  in  the  latter  days  of  the  world.  In 
these  statements,  however  mythical  and  fantastic  they  may  be 
in  many  passages,  the  text  never  loses  sight  of  the  Buddha's 


1  Digha,  14  ;  Mahdniddna  and  Saihyutta,  47,  18,  47. 

2  ed.  Sarad  Chandra,  fasc.  i.,  Calcutta,  1898. 

3  Suvarnaprabha,  pp.  6-8. 

4  This  translation  of  the  word  varna  is  given  on  the  authority 
of  the  two  Chinese  translators. 

5  ed.  Kern-Nanjio,  St.  Petersburg,  1908-1911.    Kern's  tr.  is  in 
SBE,  vol.  xxi. 

6  Tr.  p.  40.  7  See  tr.  pp.  xxv,  54-57,  292-297,  307-310. 
8  Especially  in  this  part,  chapters  ii.-vii.,  we  can  trace  many 

passages  to  the  Pali  Sikdyas  of  the  Theravadins. 


personality.1  At  all  events,  we  have  in  this  book  a  Buddhist 
parallel  to  the  Christian  doctrines  of  the  Logos  and  kenosis,  if  it 
does  not  wholly  agree  with  them.  Without  going  into  the  philo- 
sophical ideas  underlying  these  Buddhological  speculations,  we 
can  easily  see  how,  according  as  the  emphasis  is  laid  on  one  or 
other  of  these  two  aspects  of  the  Buddhahood, — the  eternal  and 
the  temporary, — one  who  derives  his  ideas  from  this  book  may  be 
led  to  an  anti-docetic  or  a  docetic  view  of  the  Buddha. 

After  a  profound  and  elaborate  system  of 
Buddhist  scholasticism,  known  as  the  T'ien-t'ai 
school,  was  organized  by  Ch'-i2  (531-597),  the 
disputes  were  revived,  both  among  his  followers 
and  among  his  opponents,  as  to  which  of  the  above 
two  aspects  was  to  be  emphasized.  The  original 
(Chinese pen)  and  fundamental  Buddhahood  is  the 
real  essence,  untouched  by  changes ;  and  the 
Buddha,  when  viewed  from  his  own  substance,  is 
nothing  but  his  eternal  person  (the  T'ien-t'ai 
school  does  not  see  in  this  a  mere  '  thatness,' 
tathata,  as  did  Nagarjuna,  but  constant  activities 
for  the  good  of  all  beings).  On  the  other  hand, 
the  derivative  (Chinese  chi,  which  means  'trace') 
Buddhahood  is  the  trace  left  by  the  real  Buddha 
among  men,  in  order  to  educate  them.  Though 
Ch'-i  himself  emphasized  the  inseparable  unity  of 
the  two  aspects,  the  disputes  never  ceased  about 
the  difference  between  the  two,  and  as  to  the 
superiority  of  one  over  the  other.  Those  who 
emphasized  the  original  as  superior  to,  or  more 
real  than,  the  other  took  refuge,  more  or  less,  in 
Nagarjuna's  philosophy,  and  thus  inclined  towards 
docetism.  The  difference  of  opinion  continues  to 
this  day  in  Japan.  Among  the  followers  of 
Nichiren,  the  most  ardent  expounder  of  the 
orthodox  T'ien-t'ai,  the  problem  is  shifted,  and 
concerns  the  importance  to  be  attached  to  either 
the  Truth  (Dharma)  revealed  by,  or  the  person  of, 
the  Buddha,  but  the  question  remains  substantially 
the  same  as  before. 

6.  The  Trinitarians. — The  contrast  between  the 
eternal  and  the  temporary  aspects  of  the  Buddha's 
person  led  to  the  assumption  of  a  third  aspect, 
which,  after  the  fashion  of  Gnosticism,  was  to  be 
the  revelation  of  the  Buddha  to  himself  and  to  the 
superhuman  beings,  the  Bodhisattvas.  We  see  in 
Asvaghosa  {q.v.),  the  Buddhist  Origen,  the  first 
systematization  of  the  Trinitarian  theory.3  The 
ultimate  principle  of  his  philosophy  is  the  identity 
of  Mind  (chitta),  which  is  '  thatness '  or  essence,  in 
the  person  of  the  Buddha  and  in  common  men. 
This  '  thatness '  (tathata)  is  the  dharmakaya  of 
the  Buddha,  or  the  tathagata-garbha,  i.e.  the 
womb  and  source  from  which  every  being  derives 
its  existence  and  activities.  The  Buddha  does  not 
remain  in  tranquillity  in  the  womb,  but  manifests 
himself  in  the  various  conditions  of  bliss,  according 
to  the  respective  merits  and  enlightenment  of  the 
superhuman  beings.  These  manifestations  make 
up  the  bliss-body  (sambhogakaya).  Further,  he 
adapts  himself  to  the  individuation-consciousness 
of  common  mortals,  and  appears  in  this  world  in 
condescension  or  incarnation,  i.e.  the  nirmana- 
kaya.  Men  see  in  it  a  body  composed  of  gross 
matter  which,  though  in  itself  not  different  from 
mind,  is  considered  by  them  to  be  something  out- 
ward, and  thus  what  they  look  upon  as  the  Buddha 
is  only  something  like  shadow  or  reflexion. 
Asvaghosa's  theory  of  the  Trinity  is,  in  this  way, 
based  upon  an  idealistic  philosophy  similar  to  the 
Prajfia  school,  at  the  same  time  with  a  Gnostic 
gradation  of  the  Buddha's  manifestations  to  all 
kinds  of  existence,  and  in  this  respect  his  Bud- 
dhology  verges  on  a  docetic  view,  almost  abolishing 
the  distinction  of  persons  in  the  Trinity  through 
its  emphasis  on  the  identity  of  the  substance. 

Another  representative  of  the  Trinity  theory  is 

1  On  this  point  the  present  writer  differs  from  Kern's  remarks 
on  p.  xxvi  of  his  translation. 

2  See  Nanjio's  Catalogue,  Oxford,  1883,  Appendix  iii.  no.  12. 

3  In  his  work  '  The  Awakening  of  Faith '  (Suzuki's  Eng.  tr., 
Chicago,  1900). 


840 


DOM 


Vasubandhu,  together  with  his  brother  Asanga. 
His  standpoint  is  essentially  that  of  Asvaghosa, 
differing  from  the  latter  only  in  nomenclature  and 
subdivision.  Vasubandhu  is  a  theosophist,  or  a 
Gnostic,  in  his  way  of  thinking  and  in  his  descrip- 
tions of  the  various  mystic  attainments.  Moreover, 
he  almost  loses  sight  of  a  definite  incarnation, 
such  as  Sakyamuni,  and  believes  in  innumerable 
condescension  bodies  (which  he  calls  apparitions, 
nirmita),  appearing  everywhere  in  any  form,  in 
the  visions  of  the  Bodhisattvas.  These  apparitions 
can  meet  and  cross  one  another  without  any 
hindrance,  and  can  assist  one  another  in  their 
educative  purposes.  Thus  Vasubandhu,  though 
an  ardent  believer  in  Maitreya,  the  future  Buddha, 
opposes  most  decidedly  the  view  that  there  appears 
only  one  Buddha  in  one  world-period.  The  universe 
he  sees  is  filled  with  all  possible  apparitions  of 
Buddha,  from  gross  matter,  plants,  and  animals, 
up  to  the  highest  manifestations  in  the  states  of 
bliss.1  Mysticism,  Theosophy,  Gnosticism,  and 
Pantheism  are  combined  in  his  docetic  Buddhology, 
which  at  last  amounts  to  nothing  else  than  Cosmo- 
logy and  Psychology. 

Lastly,  a  similar  docetic  Buddhology  is  repre- 
sented by  a  chapter  entitled  the  '  Trikaya '  in  the 
Suvarnaprabha,  which  is  found  only  in  I-tsing's 
translation,  and  is  probably  a  later  interpolation 
from  the  pen  of  a  follower  of  Vasubandhu.  This 
is  apparently  intended  to  be  a  further  interpreta- 
tion of  the  second  chapter.  Nevertheless,  the 
writer  makes  no  mention  of  the  actual  Buddha 
Sakyamuni,  but  emphasis  is  laid  on  the  substantial 
identity  of  all  the  Buddhas,  who  are  considered 
to  be  mere  apparitions  of  the  sole  essence,  the 
dharmakaya.  He  thinks  that,  if  one  sees  in  the 
Buddha  or  Buddhas  this  identity  of  substance,  as 
well  as  of  intention  and  activities,  according  to 
truth  (dharmatathataya),  there  can  be  no  talk  about 
life  or  death,  sleep  or  dream,  thirst  or  hunger  in 
the  Tathagata,  because  his  own  mind  is,  in  reality, 
always  tranquil  in  profound  contemplation  (yoga). 

Thus  we  see  Trmitarianism  finally  reaching  a 
decided  docetism,  though  it  started  from  a  stand- 
point different  from  that  of  the  Prajfia  school. 
Asvaghosa's  psychological  cosmology  did  not  de- 
cidedly deny  the  reality  of  the  condescension  body. 
Nevertheless,  the  idea  of  unity  in  the  Trinity 
proceeded,  in  Vasubandhu  and  his  followers,  to 
that  of  identity  (samata),  verging  on  the  negation 
of  differences,  as  we  have  found  in  Nagarjuna. 
These  docetists,  however,  did  not  go  to  the  ex- 
treme of  the  latter's  doctrine,  but  developed  the 
Mahasanghikas'  Pantheism  into  their  own  theo- 
sophy. This  theosophy  is  again  worked  up  in  the 
mysticism  of  the  Mantra  system,  another  form  of 
decided  docetism,  at  which  we  shall  now  give  a 
glance. 

7.  Mantra  Buddhism. — Though  we  know  very 
little  about  the  origin  and  history  of  Mantra 
(Jap.  Shingon)  Buddhism,  or  Buddhist  Tantrism, 
it  shows  a  most  abstruse  form  of  religion,  made  up 
of  extremely  idealistic  and  materialistic  elements. 
Its  origin  is  ascribed  to  Nagarjuna,  and  it  has 
certainly  his  all-identifying  idealism  at  its  basis, 
but  at  the  same  time  mystic  interpretations  of 
the  material  as  well  as  ideal  worlds,  as  found  in 
Vasubandhu,  play  a  great  part.  Numerous  texts 
and  formulae  were  produced  in  India  and  were 
widely  prevalent  there  in  the  last  centuries  of 
Buddhist  history.  We  see  them  also  used  by  the 
Lamas  to-day  side  by  side  with  their  Prajfia  texts. 
The  most  important  text  of  this  mysticism,  the 
Mahavairochana-abhisambodhi,  was  brought  to 
China  by  an  Indian,  Subhakarasinha  (t  735),  and 
its  final  systematization  was  carried  out  in  japan 
by  Kukai  (t  835). 

1  See  esp.  ch.  xx.  of  his  Vijflatimatrd  (Nanjio,  no.  1216). 


The  Buddha,  according  to  this  philosophy,  is 
nothing  but  the  whole  universe,  the  dharmadhdtu, 
including  its  six  elements — earth,  water,  fire,  air, 
space,  and  consciousness.  It  is  his  real  body,  the 
dharmakaya,  and  it  may  be  divided  into  two 
complementary  constituents,  the  mental  and  the 
material.  The  former  is  called  the  Garbhadhatu, 
corresponding  with  the  Tathaqatagarbha  of 
Asvaghosa ;  and  the  latter  the  Vajradhatu,  the 
indestructible  substance.  The  individualized  phe- 
nomena are,  in  this  way,  nothing  but  the  Buddna's 
revelation  to  himself,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
methods  of  benediction  (adhisthana)  embracing  all 
beings.  The  whole  is  called  the  Buddha  Maha- 
Vairochana.  The  numberless  manifestations  of 
his  body,  such  as  Buddhas,  Bodhisattvas,  Vajra- 
panis,  Padmapanis,  etc.,  make  up  the  whole 
pantheon  of  the  religion,  which  is  represented 
symbolically  in  the  two  sets  of  cycles  or  as- 
semblages (mandala),  corresponding  to  the  above 
divisions  of  the  Dhatu.  We  shall  not  here  enter 
into  the  details  of  this  symbolism,  for,  as  we 
might  naturally  expect,  the  historical  Buddha 
dwindles  almost  to  naught  in  this  recondite  system 
of  mysticism.  The  name  Sakyammiiji  is  preserved 
in  one  corner  of  the  Garbhadhatu-mandala,  but 
his  actual  personality  means  so  little  that  these 
mystics  have  almost  nothing  to  say  of  his  life  or 
teaching.  A  disciple  of  Subhakarasinha  tried,  in 
his  commentary  on  the  text  named  abovej  to  ex- 
plain the  eternal  Buddha  taught  in  the  Lotus  as 
identical  with  Maha-Vairochana,  and  later  on 
some  Japanese  Mantrists  identified  Sakyamuni 
with  their  supreme  Buddha.  But  all  these  at- 
tempts were  carried  on  to  neglect  of  the  historical 
signification  of  Sakyamuni.  In  short,  the  person 
of  the  Buddha  is,  with  them,  dispersed  and 
diffused  over  the  whole  universe,  and  he  is  ranked 
on  the  same  level  as  any  other  superhuman  beings. 
He  is  elevated  on  one  side  to  the  all-embracing 
dharmakaya,  and  on  the  other  is  degraded  to 
mere  dust.  This  was  a  consequence  of  Buddhist 
materialism  and  idealism.  It  is  only  natural  that, 
with  the  disintegration  of  the  personal  Buddha, 
the  Buddhist  religion,  in  this  form,  reached  dis- 
solution, and  all  kinds  of  abuses  and  superstitions 
were  accepted  and  justified. 

Literature. — Besides  the  references  and  original  materials 
cited  above,  6ee  W.  Wassilieff,  Buddhismus,  St.  Petersburg, 
1860,  p.  128  i. ;  E.  Burnouf,  lntrod.  d  I'hist.  du  Bouddhismt 
indien,  Paris,  1844,  pp.  108-123,  219-229,  438-444,  514-555; 
L.  de  la  V.  Poussin,  Bouddhisme  :  etudes  et  materiaux,  Paris, 
1898,  Bouddhisme :  opinions  sur  I'histoire  de  la  dogmatique, 
Paris,  1909,  p.  248  f. ;  D.  T.  Suzuki,  Outlines  of  Mahayana 
Buddhism,  London,  1907,  chs.  vi.  ix.-xii.;  B.  Nanjio,  Twelve 
Japanese  Buddhist  Sects,  Tokyo,  1886,  chs.  iv.  v.  vii.  viii.  xi. 

M.  Anesaki. 
DOCTRINE  AND   DOGMA.— See  Church, 
Confessions,  Creeds. 

DOG.— See  Animals. 

DOLMEN. — See  Death  (Europe,  pre-historic). 

DOM. — The  menial  tribe  of  Dravidian  origin, 
widely  spread  under  various  names  in  most  parts 
of  continental  India.  The  Census  returns  of  1901 
(Census  India,  ii.  323)  show  their  numbers  to  be 
977,026  ;  and  of  the  Dommara,  Domar,  or  Dombar, 
97,456.  But  there  must  be  some  error  in  the  tabu- 
lation, as  none  are  shown  in  Bengal,  where  the 
Maghaiya  Doms  of  Bihar  are  an  important  tribe. 
The  Poms  seem  to  be  of  diverse  origin,  and  the 
social  position  of  their  various  branches  is  very 
different.  They  certainly  belong  to  a  large  extent 
to  one  of  the  non- Aryan  races  ;  but  in  many  places 
they  may  be  the  descendants  of  the  mixed  race  of 
serfs  or  slaves  of  the  early  conquerors.  As  Risley 
remarks : 


DOM 


841 


'  The  fact  that  for  centuries  paat  they  have  been  condemned 
to  the  most  menial  duties,  and  have  served  as  the  helots  of  the 
entire  Hindu  community,  would  of  itself  be  sufficient  to  break 
down  whatever  tribal  spirit  they  may  once  have  possessed,  and 
to  obliterate  all  structural  traces  of  their  true  origin '  (Tribes 
and  Castes,  i.  241). 

The  Doms  of  Northern  India  may  be  divided  into 
three  territorial  groups,  the  ethnological  connexion 
of  which  can  be  only  a  matter  of  speculation  :  (1) 
the  eastern  branch  of  the  tribe  found  in  the  Plains 
districts  to  the  east  of  the  United  Provinces  and 
in  Bihar  ;  (2)  the  Doms  of  the  Himalayas  ;  (3)  the 
Pom  or  Dum  Mirasis  of  the  Panjab. 

I.  The,  Boms  of  the  Ganges  Plains. — These  are 
divided  into  numerous  sub-tribes,  such  as  the 
Bahsphor  [o.v.),  the  Basor,  and  others.  They 
differ  in  social  position  according  to  the  business 
in  which  they  are  engaged,  and  in  particular  their 
rank  depends  upon  whether  they  do  or  do  not  prac- 
tise scavengering.  The  most  interesting  of  these 
groups  is  that  of  the  Maghaiya  Doms,  who  take 
their  name  from  the  ancient  kingdom  of  Magadha 
or  South  Bihar.  They  are  found  in  the  western 
districts  of  Bengal  and  to  the  east  of  the  United 
Provinces.  In  their  original  state  they  are 
vagrants  pure  and  simple,  who  do  not  possess  even 
mat  shelters  or  tents  to  protect  them  in  the  cold 
and  rainy  season,  but  cower  under  trees,  or  lurk  in 
cattle-sheds  or  under  the  eaves  of  houses.  They 
live  by  burglary,  petty  theft,  and  begging,  and 
their  women  are  prostitutes.  In  Gorakhpur  they 
have  two  special  divinities  of  their  own — Gandak 
and  Samaiya.  Gandak  is  said  to  have  been  hanged 
for  theft  a  long  time  ago,  and  when  he  was  dying 
he  promised  to  help  the  Maghaiyas  in  times  of 
trouble.  He  is  worshipped  by  the  whole  sub-tribe, 
and  is  invoked  on  all  important  occasions  ;  but  he 
is  pre-eminently  the  god  of  theft.  A  successful 
raid  is  always  celebrated  by  a  sacrifice  and  feast 
in  his  honour.  Samaiya  is  a  female  deity,  and 
apparently,  as  is  usual  among  the  Dravidians,  she 
is  recognized  in  a  vague  way  to  be  the  consort  of 
Gandak.  She  is  without  special  history  or  legend, 
and  no  sharp  line  of  distinction  is  drawn  between 
her  functions  and  those  of  Gandak  ;  but  she  seems 
to  be  especially  invoked  at  childbirth  and  in  illness. 
Both  these  deities  are  honoured  with  sacrifices 
of  young  pigs,  with  an  offering  of  spirits  mixed 
with  sugar  and  spices.  The  Maghaiyas  employ  no 
priests ;  any  of  their  number  is  capable  of  performing 
the  rite.  The  meat  and  other  things,  after  dedica- 
tion, are  divided  among  the  worshippers.  Some- 
times at  childbirth,  or  when  a  child  is  teething, 
a  pig  is  specially  sacrificed  to  Samaiya,  or  this  is 
done  in  fulfilment  of  a  vow.  They  have  no  idol, 
altar,  or  religious  platform.  When  a  sacrifice  is  to 
be  made,  a  space  is  cleared  in  a  field,  and  the  rite 
is  performed. 

Among  those  branches  of  the  tribe  whose  social 
rank  is  superior  to  that  of  the  Maghaiyas  there  is 
some  approach  to  Hinduism,  and  the  Mother  god- 
dess is  worshipped  as  Bhavani,  while  they  have 
some  vague  idea  of  an  all-powerful  male  deity 
called  Paramesvar,  '  the  great  god,'  who  punishes 
the  guilty,  and  of  a  hell ;  but  what  it  is  and  how 
sinners  are  punished  they  know  not.  As  Risley, 
writing  of  Bihar,  remarks  {op.  cit.  i.  245) : 

'  The  religion  of  the  poms  varies  greatly  in  different  parts  of 
the  country,  and  may  be  described  generally  as  a  chaotic  mix- 
ture of  survivals  from  the  elemental  or  animistic  cults  charac- 
teristic of  the  aboriginal  races,  and  of  observances  borrowed  in 
a  haphazard  fashion  from  whatever  Hindu  sect  happens  to  be 
dominant  in  a  particular  locality.  The  composite  and  chaotic 
nature  of  their  belief  is  due  partly  to  the  great  ignorance  of 
the  caste,  but  mainly  to  the  fact  that,  as  a  rule,  they  have  no 
Brahmans,  and  thus  are  without  any  central  authority,  or 
standard,  which  would  tend  to  mould  their  religious  usages  into 
conformity  with  a  uniform  standard.' 

The  Maghaiyas,  apparently  as  a  survival  of  the 
matriarchate  in  some  form,  employ  a  sister's  son 
to  act  as  funeral  priest  and  to  recite  the  spells 


(mantra)  which  are  intended  to  lay  the  ghost  of 
the  dead. 

'  If  a  man  dies  of  snake-bite,  say  the  Magahiya  poms  of  the 
Gya  district,  we  worship  his  spirit  as  a  Sdmperiyd  [snake  god- 
ling]  lest  he  should  come  back  and  give  us  bad  dreams  ;  we  also 
worship  the  snake  who  bit  him,  lest  the  snake-god  should  serve 
us  in  like  fashion.  Any  man,  therefore,  conspicuous  enough  by 
his  doings  in  life  or  for  the  manner  of  his  death  to  stand  a 
chance  of  being  dreamed  of  among  a  tolerably  large  circle  is 
likely  in  course  of  time  to  take  rank  as  a  god '  (ib.  i.  247). 

Hence  arises  the  worship  of  Syam  Singh,  the 
deified  ancestor  of  the  Doms  of  Bihar,  who  may 
have  been  a  successful  robber,  or  of  Gandak,  to 
whom  reference  has  already  been  made.  The 
Bihar  branch,  again,  worship  Sansari  Mai,  whom 
some  identify  with  Kali,  but  who  is  probably,  as 
her  name  implies,  the  Earth  Mother,  known  to 
most  primitive  religions. 

*No  image,  not  even  the  usual  lump  of  clay,  is  set  up  to 
represent  the  goddess :  a  circle  one  Bpan  and  four  fingers  in 
diameter  is  drawn  on  the  ground  and  smeared  smooth  with 
cow-dung.  Squatting  in  front  of  this  the  worshipper  gashes 
his  left  arm  with  the  curved  Dom  knife,  and  daubs  five  streaks 
of  blood  with  his  ringer  in  the  centre  of  the  circle,  praying  in  a 
low  voice  that  a  dark  night  may  aid  his  designs  ;  that  his  booty 
may  be  ample  ;  and  that  he  and  his  gang  may  escape  detection,' 
with  which  Risley  (op.  cit.  i.  247  f.)  aptly  compares  the  prayer 
to  Laverna : 

'  Da  mihi  fallere,  da  justo  sanctoque  videri, 
Noctem  peccatis  et  fraudibus  objice  nubem  ' 

(Horace,  Ep.  i.  16.  61  f.). 

Similarly  in  the  United  Provinces  the  Doms, 
whose  business  it  is  to  slay  ownerless  dogs,  have  a 
female  deity  called  Kukarmarl,  '  slayer  of  dogs,'  to 
whom  a  sacrifice  of  a  young  pig  and  an  offering  of 
spirits  are  made  as  a  propitiation  for  the  death  of 
the  animals  of  which  she  is  the  guardian.  The 
Dom  executioner,  on  the  same  principle,  as  he  lets 
the  gallows  fall,  calls  to  the  Emperor,  the  judge, 
and  all  who  are  concerned  in  the  conviction  and 
sentence  of  the  criminal,  to  take  the  guilt  of  his 
death  upon  their  own  heads,  and  to  save  him  thus 
from  responsibility.  In  a  still  lower  grade  of  belief 
are  the  so-called  fetishistic  practices  of  worshipping 
the  '  jemmy  '  with  which  the  Dom  burglar  makes 
entry  into  a  house.  They  also  when  encamped 
near  a  village  worship  the  local  gods  of  the  place. 

This  branch  of  the  Doms  feels  the  dread  of  evil 
spirits  which  is  found  among  all  races  in  a  similar 
stage  of  culture.  Mari  Masan,  the  death  spirit  of 
the  cremation  ground,  represents  the  impersonated 
dread  which  attaches  to  such  uncanny  places,  and 
it  is  considered  necessary  to  appease  the  ghosts  of 
the  dead  by  an  annual  celebration,  if  they  are  not 
to  appear  in  dreams  and  afflict  the  living. 

2.  The  Himalayan  Doms. — These  are  in  a  much 
higher  grade  than  those  of  Bihar  and  the  neigh- 
bouring districts.  They  carry  on  various  trades 
which  in  the  Plains  are  each  allotted  to  a  separate 
caste.  Their  beliefs  are  of  the  same  animistic  type 
as  those  of  the  Doms  of  Bihar.  In  the  first  place, 
they  worship  a  number  of  deified  ghosts  who  are 
specially  commemorated  on  account  of  the  tragic 
circumstances  of  their  death.  Ganganath  was  a 
prince  murdered  on  account  of  a  sexual  intrigue, 
and  he  and  his  paramour  are  worshipped.  When 
any  one  is  aggrieved  by  a  wicked  or  powerful 
enemy,  he  goes  for  aid  to  Ganganath,  who  invari- 
ably punishes  the  wrongdoer.  He  sometimes 
possesses  one  of  his  followers,  and  through  him 
prescribes  the  offerings  which  must  be  made  to 
propitiate  him.  Bholanath  is  a  deity  of  the  same 
type,  the  ghost  of  a  prince  who  was  assassinated. 
He  is  represented  by  a  small  iron  trident  placed  in 
a  corner  of  the  house,  to  which  offerings  are  made 
when  any  sudden  calamity  attacks  the  inmates. 

Another  class  of  deities  represents  the  imperson- 
ated horror  of  graveyard  or  forest.  Masan  lives  at 
a  burning-ground,  is  black  in  colour  and  hideous  in 
appearance.  He  comes  from  the  ashes  of  a  funeral 
pyre  and  chases  passers-by  at  night,  some  of  whom 
die  of  fright,  whilst  others  go  mad  and  linger  for  a 


842 


DOMESTICATION 


while.  He  possesses  the  sick,  causes  disease,  and 
can  be  expelled  by  exorcism.  Khabish  lives  in 
remote,  dark  glens,  sometimes  imitating  the  bellow 
of  a  buffalo,  the  cry  of  a  goatherd,  or  the  grunt  of 
a  wild  pig.  He  frightens  and  besets  unwary  tra- 
vellers. Besides  malignant  ghosts  of  this  kind  they 
also  worship  Khetrpal,  '  protector  of  the  land,'  the 
male  consort  of  the  Earth  Mother,  and  Kalbisht 
and  Chumu,  kindly  deified  ghosts  who  protect  the 
herds  and  flocks.  More  terrible  is  Runiya,  who 
rides  from  village  to  village  on  immense  boulders, 
the  impersonation  of  the  avalanche  or  of  the  rocks 
falling  from  the  mountain  side.  He  attacks  only 
females ;  and,  should  any  one  attract  his  attentions, 
she  invariably  wastes  away,  haunted  by  her  demon 
lover,  and  joins  him  in  spirit  land. 

3.  The  Dom  or  Dum  Mlrdsls. — Quite  different  in 
occupation,  at  least  from  the  Maghaiya  or  Hima- 
layan Doms,  is  the  Dom  or  Dum  Mirasi  of  the 
Panjab,  who  has  been  well  described  by  Ibbetson 
(Panjab  Ethnography,  289).  He  is  a  minstrel  and 
ballad-singer,  plays  on  the  little  drum,  cymbals, 
and  fiddle,  and  his  women  amuse  ladies  in  zananas 
by  appearing  as  jesters  and  singers.  It  would  not 
be  difficult  to  show  that  these  arts  may  have  de- 
veloped among  the  more  savage  Doms.  But  the 
Panjab  Doms  are  now  quite  distinct  from  the 
Maghaiyas  and  the  Doms  0I  the  Himalayas,  and 
in  religion  they  have  become  nominally  Muhamma- 
dans,  though  they  still  retain  many  of  the  animistic 
beliefs  of  the  other  branches  of  the  tribe. 

Literature. — For  Bengal,  see  Risley,  Tribes  and  Castes  of 
Bengal,  Calcutta,  1891,  i.  240  ff. ;  Wise,  Races,  Castes,  and 
Trades  of  Eastern  Bengal,  London,  1883,  p.  265  ft.  ;  Gait, 
Census  Report  Bengal,  1901,  i.  App.  vii.  p.  xlix.  For  the 
United  Provinces,  Crooke,  Tribes  and  Castes  of  the  N.  W. 
Prov.  and  Oudh,  Calcutta,  1896,  ii.  312 ff.;  Atkinson,  Hima- 
layan Gazetteer,  1882-84,  ii.  319  ff.  For  the  Panjab,  Ibbetson, 
Panjab  Ethnography,  Calcutta,  1883,  p.  2S9.  For  the  Donibs 
of  the  Madras  Presidency  see  Thurston,  Castes  and  Tribes  of 
Southern  India,  ii.  (1909)  173.  W.  CROOKE. 

DOMESTICATION.— The  term  applied  to 
the  control  by  human  beings  of  the  conditions 
under  which  animals  and  plants  live  and  propagate 
their  species.  The  extent  of  this  control  varies 
from  case  to  case,  and,  although,  logically,  German 
authorities  who  include  oysters  and  silkworms 
among  domesticated  animals  are  justified  by  the 
definition,  the  term  as  a  rule  is  limited  to  such 
animals  and  such  plants  as  are  necessary  for  the 
existence  or  well-being  of  the  human  race — among 
animals,  to  the  dog,  the  horse  and  the  ass,  the  cow 
and  other  ruminants,  the  rabbit  and  similar  rodents ; 
to  animals  of  great  value  for  transport  like  the 
camel  and  the  elephant,  and  to  some  birds  ;  among 
plants,  to  cereals,  roots,  and  tubers  which  have  an 
agricultural  value,  various  species  of  trees,  and 
plants  like  flax  and  hemp  which  contain  fibres  of 
great  use  to  man.  The  most  primitive  men  do  not 
possess  either  domesticated  animals  or  domesticated 
plants.  So  far  as  at  present  is  ascertained,  palaeo- 
lithic man  in  Europe  possessed  neither,  though  in 
a  stratum  intermediate  between  paleolithic  and 
neolithic,  at  Mas  d'Azil  in  the  South  of  France, 
Edouard  Piette  found  representations  of  heads 
of  horses  which  in  the  woodcut  look  certainly  as 
if  they  were  fitted  with  halters  (though  this  has 
been  denied).  Piette  found  also  a  little  heap  of 
wheat,  which,  except  in  one  form,  is  no  longer 
known  in  Europe  as  a  wild  plant.  In  rock-shelters 
of  the  paleolithic  period  many  admirable  drawings 
have  been  found  of  such  animals  as  the  reindeer, 
the  horse,  and  the  mammoth,  and  also  large 
quantities  of  their  bones.  But  it  is  generally 
believed  that  the  bones  came  into  the  shelters 
clothed  with  flesh  intended  for  food.  Even  in  the 
'  kitchen-middens '  of  the  coast  of  Denmark,  which 
belong  to  the  neolithic  age,  the  only  animal  which 
can  be  identified  as  domesticated  is  the  dog,  so 


that  we  may  imagine  the  state  of  civilization  ol 
that  period  to  resemble  in  the  main  that  of  the 
native  Australians  at  the  present  day.  These 
have  no  cultivated  plants,  and  the  only  animal 
which  can  be  called  in  any  sense  domesticated  is 
the  dingo — the  native  dog.  As  even  the  dingo  in 
the  pairing  season  often  deserts  its  master,  it 
cannot  be  considered  entirely  domesticated.  Other 
animals  are  obviously  not  likely  to  be  long  kept  as 
pets  among  savages  who  lay  up  no  stores  and  at 
certain  times  of  the  year  find  natural  products  so 
scarce  that  they  are  driven  to  devouring  their  own 
children.  The  primitive  savage  has,  however, 
undoubted  ability  to  make  friends  with  dumb 
animals,  and  in  South  America,  where  the  con- 
ditions of  life  are  on  the  whole  easier  than  in 
Australia,  the  huts  of  the  natives  are  full  of  animals, 
mostly  birds,  which  they  have  tamed.  The  native, 
however,  turns  them  to  no  practical  use,  and  when 
he  has  been  presented  with  ordinary  fowls  he  uses 
neither  their  eggs  nor  their  flesh.  When  the 
American  Indians  were  given  cattle,  they  could 
not  imagine  any  other  method  of  treatment  for 
them  than  as  animals  to  hunt. 

The  domestication  of  animals  has  obviously 
been  a  process  continued  over  a  long  period  of 
time,  and  in  the  case  of  most  animals  repeated  at 
many  different  places  by  different  persons.  The 
stages  in  this  process  are  not  very  clear.  The 
most  important  animal  to  man  in  many  ways  is 
the  cow.  Its  flesh  and  milk  supply  food  ;  its  skin 
provides  clothing ;  its  sinews,  bones,  and  horns 
yield  primitive  implements.  From  very  early 
times  it  has  also  been  used  as  a  means  of  exchange. 
As  an  early  Persian  writer  says  in  the  Bahram 
Yasht  of  the  Avesta,  developing  the  texts  of  an 
earlier  Yasna,  '  in  the  ox  is  our  strength,  in  the 
ox  is  our  need  ;  ...  in  the  ox  is  our  food,  in  the 
ox  is  our  clothing  ;  in  the  ox  is  tillage,  that  makes 
food  grow  for  us '  (SBE  xxiii.  247).  In  other  cir- 
cumstances the  goat  is  of  hardly  less  importance, 
while  the  sheep  has  been  much  more  modified  by 
its  contact  with  man  than  these  ;  and  its  bones,  in 
Northern  Europe  at  any  rate,  are  found  later  and 
more  rarely  than  those  of  the  ox  and  goat.  The 
conditions  in  which  the  horse  was  domesticated 
are  also  obscure.  But  this  animal  became  in- 
dispensable in  countries  where  large  herds  of 
cattle  more  or  less  domesticated  came  into  exist- 
ence. Sheep  and  goats  can  be  controlled  by 
shepherds  with  dogs  ;  large  herds  of  cattle  can  be 
controlled  only  by  the  mounted  cowboy,  who  on 
the  great  plains  of  both  the  Old  World  and  the 
New  has  become  an  important  political  factor. 
The  geographical  conditions  which  brought  about 
the  domestication  of  ihe  camel  and  the  elephant 
were  much  more  limited  in  range.  In  the  case  of 
the  pigeon  it  has  been  shown  by  Darwin  that  all 
varieties  have  arisen,  under  domestication,  from 
the  '  blue  rock. '  The  goose  was  early  domesticated  ; 
in  the  Odyssey  (xv.  161-2)  an  eagle  carries  off  one 
of  Helen's  geese  as  she  feeds  them  in  the  courtyard 
at  Sparta.  The  goose,  duck,  and  pigeon  were 
domesticated  with  a  view  to  their  use  as  food,  but 
the  turtle-dove  was  often  kept  simply  as  a  pet, 
while  the  game-cock  (the  '  Persian  bird '  of  the 
Greek  poets)  was  kept  from  a  sporting  interest. 
It  is  impossible  here  to  discuss  other  birds  which 
have  beer  me  thus  domesticated  in  different  parts 
of  the  world  in  more  modern  times,  e.g.  the  turkey, 
the  guinea-fowl,  the  pheasant,  and  the  ostrich. 

The  causes  which  produce  domestication  in 
animals  were  classified  nearly  half  a  century  ago 
by  Francis  Galton  (Trans,  of  the  Ethnol.  Soc.  of 
London,  1868,  p.  123 ff.).  To  his  analysis,  though 
rarely  quoted  in  recent  times,  later  writers  have 
added  nothing  of  importance.  He  shows  that 
animals  which  become  domesticated  must  have  an 


DOMESTICATION 


843 


inborn  liking  for  man,  be  fond  of  comfort,  be  use- 
ful to  savages,  be  hardy,  breed  freely,  and  be 
gregarious.  The  cat,  it  may  be  argued,  is  not 
gregarious  ;  but  it  is  fond  of  comfort,  and,  except 
in  rare  instances,  is  more  attached  to  a  place  than 
to  a  person.  The  pig,  on  the  other  hand,  has  many 
of  the  qualities  in  which  the  cat  is  lacking,  but  it 
has  for  various  obvious  reasons  never  been  domes- 
ticated in  the  same  way,  and  even  the  crofter  of 
the  Hebrides  or  of  Western  Ireland,  who  shares  his 
habitation  with  the  cattle,  as  a  rule  excludes  the 
pig.  Some  animals  are  kept  by  man  in  captivity 
without  their  being  in  the  proper  sense  domesti- 
cated. Till  lately  the  wild  elephant  had  to  be 
tamed,  because  elephants  did  not  breed  in  cap- 
tivity. But  the  speculations  to  which  this  fact 
has  given  rise  are  in  the  main  ill-founded.  The 
tame  elephant  in  conditions  approaching  his  wild 
state  does  breed  (Darwin,  Variation  of  Animals 
and  Plants  under  Domestication,  popular  ed., 
1905,  ii.  165). 

Besides  the  natural  causes  postulated  by  Galton, 
the  existence  of  animals  both  domesticated  and 
undomesticated  was  probably  to  some  extent 
guaranteed  by  religious  or  quasi-religious  sanctions. 
In  Persia  and  in  Germany  white  horses  were 
specially  sacred  (Herod,  i.  189 ;  Tac.  German.  9, 
10).  In  India  animal  life  generally  is  sacred,  but 
in  Greece  and  Rome  the  ox  which  drew  the  plough 
was  not  to  be  killed.  What  effect  totemism  had 
upon  the  maintenance  of  particular  animals  and 
plants  will  be  clearer  when  experts  have  decided 
precisely  what  totemism  is  (see  Frazer,  Totemism 
and  Exogamy,  4  vols.,  London,  1910;  and,  for  a 
different  view,  A.  Lang,  art.  '  Totemism,'  in  EBr11, 
1911).  Hahn's  contention  (Die  Haustiere,  1896) 
that  the  domestication  of  kine  began  with  animals 
kept  in  an  enclosure  by  a  temple  for  purposes  of 
sacrifice  has  no  real  evidence  in  its  support.  The 
great  enclosures  belonging  to  the  Persian  kings, 
called  in  Avesta  pairi-daeza,  a  word  borrowed  by 
Greek  in  the  form  irapideiuos,  had,  it  is  true,  many 
animals  contained  within  them  ;  but  their  religious 
character  is  not  more  obvious  than  that  of  an 
English  gentleman's  park.  Most  Greek  temples 
stood  in  an  enclosure  (Te>ecos),  but  the  presence  of 
cattle  except  at  the  time  of  sacrifice  was  not 
encouraged  there,  and  in  the  iEolic  inscription  pub- 
lished by  Kretschmer  in  1902  {Jahresh.  d.  oester. 
arch .  Inst,  in  Wien,  v.  141)  it  is  distinctly  laid  down 
that  such  animals  are  not  to  be  fed  in  the  precinct : 
\jxtj  <Ti]Ti^7]v  5e  fir/Se  KTTjvea  fj.T}d£  fiot7K7]fJ.aTa.  tv  t£ 
re^Uvu.  That,  however,  there  were  several  stages 
in  the  domestication  of  cattle,  as  Hahn  contends, 
may  be  readily  admitted.  Some  people,  like  the 
Chinese,  who  have  domesticated  cattle,  look  with 
disgust  upon  the  use  of  their  milk  ;  others,  who 
use  both  their  flesh  and  their  milk,  have  never 
employed  them  as  draught  animals.  But  Hahn 
probably  exaggerates  the  length  of  time  that  it 
took  to  accustom  the  cow  to  yield  her  milk  to  a 
milkman  or  milkmaid  instead  of  to  her  calf — a 
difficulty  which  is  as  present  to  a  modern  farmer 
with  a  cow  that  has  been  once  allowed  to  suckle 
her  calf  as  it  was  in  early  times.  Probably  milking 
began  in  the  case  of  cows  which  had  lost  their 
calves,  and  to  which  milking  was  a  relief,  if  they 
were  already,  in  the  Latin  phrase,  mansuetce, 
'accustomed  to  handling.'  The  careful  selection 
through  untold  ages  of  animals  which  were  '  good 
milkers'  has  no  doubt  increased  the  size  of  the 
cow's  udder,  but  from  the  beginning  the  cow  and 
the  mare  differ  in  this  respect  that  the  foal 
accompanies  its  mother  from  the  first,  while  the 
cow  in  her  native  state  when  she  goes  to  pasture 
leaves  her  calf  in  a  brake  and  often  does  not  return 
to  it  for  a  long  time. 
The    domestication    of    plants    is    not    exactly 


parallel  with  the  domestication  of  animals.  While 
savage  herdsmen  like  the  Bechuanas  object  strongly 
to  the  women  interfering  with  their  animals, 
woman  is  undoubtedly  the  first  gardener  and 
agriculturist.  As  Lumholtz  says  (A  mong  Cannibals, 
1SS9,  p.  160), 

savage  woman  '  must  do  all  the  hard  work,  go  out  with  bet 
basket  and  her  stick  to  gather  fruits,  dig  roots,  or  chop  larva 
out  of  the  tree-stems.  .  .  .  The  stick  in  question,  the  woman's 
only  implement,  is  indispensable  to  her  on  her  expeditions  after 
food.  It  is  made  of  hard  tough  wood  four  or  five  feet  long,  and 
has  a  sharp  point  at  one  end  made  by  alternately  burning  it  in 
the  fire  and  rubbing  it  with  a  stone.  Even  at  dances  and 
festivals  the  married  women  carry  this  stick  as  an  emblem  of 
dignity,  as  the  provider  of  the  family.' 

This  stick  survives  as  an  agricultural  implement 
even  among  civilized  peoples.  The  next  step,  and 
a  long  one,  is  to  plant  seeds  the  produce  of  which 
will  be  at  hand  when  it  is  wanted.  But  for  this 
several  conditions  are  necessary  which  do  not  exist 
among  the  lowest  savages  even  now  :  (1)  the  family 
must  be  either  settled  in  a  particular  place  or 
wandering  in  a  very  circumscribed  area ;  (2)  the 
planter  of  the  seeds  must  be  able  to  secure  by  some 
kind  of  sanction  that  they  will  not  be  injured  by 
other  persons ;  and  (3)  the  planter  herself  must 
have  more  foresight  than  the  lowest  savages,  so  as 
to  wait  for  the  ripening  of  the  fruit.  At  present 
there  are  hardly  data  by  which  we  can  explain 
how  this  was  accomplished,  but  we  may  guess  that 
the  dibbling  of  seeds  begau  with  persons  who  found 
movement  from  place  to  place  difficult,  e.g.  through 
the  encumbrance  of  infant  children,  or  through 
lameness  or  other  physical  disability.  The  protec- 
tion of  the  plants,  as  it  seems,  could  be  secured 
only  by  superstitious  dread.  A  precinct  must  be 
made  which  it  would  not  be  safe  for  other  persons 
to  invade.  In  other  words,  a  tabu  protected  them. 
How  such  a  tabu  developed  into  law  is  well  seen 
in  the  case  of  the  sacred  olives  {/xoplai)  in  ancient 
Attica,  which  were  protected  with  a  fence  (a-qicbs), 
and  damage  to  which  was  punished  with  confiscation 
and  banishment. 

Here  we  are  faced  once  more  with  the  problem  which  arose 
in  connexion  with  the  domestication  of  animals.  Is  this 
protective  tabu  totemism  1  F.  B.  Jevons  (Introd.  to  History  of 
Religion^,  London,  1901,  pp.  114 ff.,  156,  210 fi.),  who  is  fol- 
lowed by  S.  Reinach  (Cultes,  mythes  et  religions,  i.  [Paris,  1906] 
8(1  ff.),  would  attribute  domestication  of  both  animals  and 
plants  entirely  to  totemism  ;  van  Gennep  (Tabou  et  tote'misme 
&  Madagascar,  Paris,  1904  [Bibliotheque  de  l'ecole  des  hautes- 
etudes,  sciences  religieuses,  xvii.])  no  less  emphatically  argues 
for  the  existence  of  other  causes  (pp.  241  ff.,  307  ff.,  and  passim). 
From  the  gathering  of  grass  seeds,  as  still  practised, 
e.g.  in  Australia,  among  the  Hottentots,  and  among 
the  lowest  natives  of  the  Pacific  slopes  of  America, 
there  was  no  doubt  a  gradual  progress  (which  we 
cannot  trace)  to  the  planting  of  cereals.  The 
Hindu  writer  who  says  that  barley  was  the  first  of 
plants  is  from  the  point  of  view  of  food-grains 
probably  right,  but  wheat  in  its  many  varieties 
speedily  became  of  equal,  if  not  greater,  importance. 
It  is  on  the  different  forms  of  grain  that  domestica- 
tion has  had  more  influence  than  anywhere  else. 
Hence,  for  wheat,  at  any  rate,  the  only  species  for 
which  a  wild  original  has  been  found  is  Triticum 
monococcum,  of  which  the  origin  is  said  to  be 
Triticum  asgilopoides.  This  is  found  wild  from 
Servia  through  Asia  Minor  to  Mesopotamia  and 
Antilibanus. 

Literature. — Besides  the  works  mentioned  above,  see  artt. 
Agriculture  and  Animals  in  vol.  i.  A  good  account  of  the 
domestication  of  animals  and  plants  is  given  by  H.  Schurtz, 
Urgesch.  der  Kultur,  Leipz.  1900,  p.  253  ff.  ;  but  this,  like  L. 
Reinhardt's  Kulturgesch.  der  Nutzpjianzen  (2  parts,  vol.  iv. 
of  Die  Brde  und  die  Kultur,  Munich,  1911),  is  vitiated  for 
scientific  purposes  by  a  lack  of  references.  See  also  A.  de  Can- 
dolle,  Origin  of  Cultivated  Plants,  Lond.  1884 ;  G.  Buschan, 
Vorgeschichtl.  Botanik  der  Cultur-  und  Nutzpjlanzen  der  alten 

Welt,  Breslau,  1895 ;  E.  Hahn,  Die  Haustiere,  Leipz.  1896,  and 
otherworks;  C.  Keller, Die  Abstammung der dltesten Haustiere, 
Zurich,  1902,  and  a  charming  short  account  by  the  same  author, 
Die  Stammesgesch.  unserer  Haustiere,  Leipz.  190y,  in  Teubner'8 
series,  Alts  Natur  und  Geisteswelt.  P.   GILES. 


644 


DONATISTS 


DONATISTS.— 'Donatists'  is  the  name  given 
to  the  adherents  of  a  schismatic  Church  which  was 
formed  in  N.  Africa  at  the  beginning  of  the  4th 
cent.,  and  continued,  in  spite  of  severe  persecution, 
for  more  than  a  hundred  years.  Within  the  area 
which  it  affected,  Donatism  was  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  5th  cent,  numerically  the  preponderat- 
ing form  of  Christianity,  but  its  influence  was 
practically  confined  to  the  dioceses  of  Numidia  and 
Mauretania.  While  in  its  origin  it  was  largely 
due  to  personal  and  provincial  rivalries,  the  schism 
came  rapidly  to  involve  serious  problems  concern- 
ing the  nature  and  the  functions  of  the  Church, 
and  it  was  crushed  only  by  a  combination  of  force 
applied  by  the  State  and  the  dialectical  ability  of 
Augustine. 

The  persecution  under  Diocletian  had  revived 
the  question  whether  a  priest  or  a  bishop  who  had 
shown  weakness  or  unfaithfulness  could  continue 
in,  or  be  restored  to,  his  office.  The  question  had 
been  answered  with  an  unhesitating  negative  by 
Cyprian  : 

'  They  who  have  brought  grievous  sin  upon  them,  that  is,  who 
by  sacrificing  to  idols  have  offered  sacrilegious  sacrifices,  cannot 
claim  to  themselves  the  priesthood  of  God,  or  offer  any  prayers 
in  His  sight  for  their  brethren  '  (Ep.  Ixv.  2  ;  cf.  lxvii.  2,  3). 

When,  on  the  death  of  Mensurius,  bishop  of  Car- 
thage (A.D.  311),  the  deacon  Csecilian  was  elected 
as  his  successor,  and  consecrated  by  Felix,  bishop 
of  Aptunga,  objection  was  at  once  raised  to  the 
election,  on  the  threefold  ground  that  Caecilian 
himself  was  unworthy  of  the  office ;  that  he  had 
been  elected  only  by  the  bishops  in  the  district  of 
Carthage,  and  not  by  those  of  the  whole  province 
of  Numidia ;  and  that  his  consecration  was  invalid, 
having  been  conferred  by  one  who  was  himself  a 
traditor.  The  opposition  was  led  and  organized, 
in  the  first  place,  by  Secundus,  bishop  of  Tigisis 
and  primate  of  Numidia,  who  visited  Carthage 
attended  by  seventy  other  bishops,  excommuni- 
cated Csecilian  and  those  who  adhered  to  him,  and 
consecrated  in  his  place  Majorinus,  a  '  reader '  who 
belonged  to  the  opposite  party.  The  Church  of 
N.  Africa  was  rent  in  twain.  Each  side  excom- 
municated the  other.  Both  appealed  to  the  Em- 
peror Constantine,  ignoring  thereby  Tertullian's 
principle,  '  Quid  Imperatori  cum  ecclesia  ? ',  and 
setting  an  evil  precedent  for  the  future.  The 
Emperor,  who,  under  the  guidance  of  Hosius, 
bishop  of  Cordoba,  had  already  shown  favour  to 
Csecilian,  yielded  to  the  request  of  Majorinus,  and 
called  on  Miltiades,  bishop  of  Rome,  with  the 
assistance  of  the  bishops  of  Aries,  Autun,  and 
Cologne,  to  investigate  the  dispute,  and  especially 
whether  Felix  was  indeed  a  traditor.  Their  deci- 
sion cleared  the  reputation  of  Felix  and  confirmed 
the  consecration  of  Csecilian,  and  also  condemned 
Donatus  of  Casse  Nigrae,  a  leader  of  the  opposite 
party,  on  the  ground  that  he  had  re-baptized 
Christians  and  re-ordained  bishops  who  adhered 
to  the  schism.  As  the  principles  at  issue  were 
thus  brought  to  the  surface,  the  Donatists  were 
■~3ry  confirmed  in  their  resolve  to  separate  from 
*.he  Church,  and  Constantine  remitted  the  whole 
matter  to  a  Synod  which  he  convoked  to  meet  at 
Aries  (A.D.  314).  This  Synod,  which,  though  de- 
scribed by  Augustine  as  '  plenarium  universae 
ecclesiae  concilium,'  cannot  claim  to  be  more  than 
a  General  Synod  of  the  Latin  West,  condemned 
the  Donatists  on  all  points  of  their  contention. 
The  schism,  nevertheless,  continuing  to  spread, 
and  Majorinus  having  been  succeeded  by  Donatus 
Magnus,  from  whom  the  schismatic  Church  prob- 
ably took  its  name,  Constantine  proceeded  to  civil 
measures,  issuing  a  decree  threatening  to  deprive 
the  schismatics  of  their  churches  and  to  banish 
their  bishops  (A.D.  316).  The  policy  of  forcible 
suppression  was  pursued  with   great  severity  by 


Ursacius,  the  Imperial  commissioner,  but  with 
little  success ;  and  in  321  Constantine  instructed 
both  Ursacius  and  Caecilian  to  adopt  a  policy  of 
moderation. 

Under  his  successor,  Constans,  the  history  of  the 
schism  followed  much  the  same  course.  Both  the 
persecution  and  the  resistance  were  more  deter- 
mined. It  was  a  period  of  much  social  distress 
and  disturbance  in  Africa.  The  Donatists,  as 
ecclesiastical  rebels,  provided  a  rallying-point  for 
all  the  discontented  and  seditious  elements  in  the 
population.  There  was  a  breakdown  of  social 
order.  Bands  of  dispossessed  peasants  and  escaped 
slaves  infested  the  country,  committing  abomin- 
able outrages  and  exposing  themselves  to  death 
with  fanatical  enthusiasm.  They  sought  to  make 
common  cause  with  the  Donatists,  and  called  them- 
selves milites  Christi  agonistici,  but  are  better 
known  as  circumcdliones,  'hut-haunters.'  The 
Donatists  were  discredited  by  these  excesses,  and 
suffered  in  their  suppression.  Many  of  them  were 
put  to  death,  many  others  were  banished,  and  their 
churches  were  closed  or  confiscated.  The  acces- 
sion of  Julian  brought  a  temporary  relaxation  to 
them,  as  to  other  schismatics  and  heretics,  but 
under  Gratian  and  Honorius  the  persecution  was 
renewed.  The  schism  continued,  however,  to 
flourish.  Donatus  Magnus,  who  died  in  exile, 
was  succeeded  by  Parmenianus,  and  he  by  Primi- 
anus.  The  situation  which  Augustine  found  at 
Hippo  was  probably  characteristic  of  many  dis- 
tricts :  the  Catholics  were  in  a  minority,  and  the 
Donatists  refused  to  supply  them  with  bread. 
Towards  the  end  of  the  century  the  movement 
was  seriously  weakened  by  internal  dissension. 
Tychonius,  the  celebrated  grammarian,  was  con- 
demned by  a  Donatist  Synod  in  390  for  having 
acknowledged  that  there  were  saints  in  the  Catholic 
Church.  A  further  breach  took  place  over  the 
question  of  admission  to  the  Eucharist.  More- 
over, the  continued  and  vigorous  polemic  under- 
taken by  Augustine  began  to  tell.  A  conference 
between  the  two  parties  was  arranged  by  him  at 
Carthage  in  411,  and  was  attended  by  286  Catholic 
and  279  Donatist  bishops.  It  led  to  no  satisfactory 
conclusion,  but  provided  an  excuse  for  again  put- 
ting the  civil  law  in  motion.  Augustine  himself 
provided  the  first  reasoned  defence  of  the  perse- 
cution of  Christians  by  Christians,  though  he  de- 
murred to  the  infliction  of  the  death  penalty. 
Fines,  imprisonment,  and  confiscation  followed,  and 
in  415  the  Donatists  were  prohibited  from  meeting 
for  worship.  Along  with  the  Catholics  they  suf- 
fered grievously  in  the  Vandal  invasion,  but  there 
were  still  traces  of  their  existence  as  late  as  the 
7th  cent.,  when  they  are  referred  to  by  Gregory 
the  Great. 

Donatism  was  not  a  heresy ;  neither  did  it  de- 
velop any  heretical  teaching.  It  wyas  not  a  dispute 
as  to  the  organization  of  the  Church,  or  even  one 
concerning  discipline  merely,  which  underlay  the 
schism.  Both  parties  held  by  the  episcopate,  as 
both  held  to  the  Creeds.  Donatism  represents  an 
attempt — the  final  one  for  a  thousand  years — to 
resist  the  process  of  secularization  by  which  the 
Church  was  gradually  transformed  from  a  com- 
munity of  holy  persons  into  an  institution  of 
mixed  character,  ottering  to  secure  salvation  for 
its  members  by  means  of  grace  over  which  it  had 
sole  control.  It  belongs,  therefore,  to  the  same 
series  of  movements  as  is  represented  by  the  En- 
cratites  (q.v.),  Montanists  (q.v.),  followers  of  Hip- 
polytus,  and  Novatians  (q.v.).  Insistence  on  a 
minimum  of  personal  worthiness  in  the  clergy  at 
least  was  '  the  last  remnant  of  a  much  more  earnest 
conception '  of  the  Church.  It  was  met  by  the 
defenders  of  Catholicism  with  a  new  emphasis  on 
the  objective  character  of  the  sacraments,  and  upon 


DOOM,  DOOM  MYTHS 


846 


the  holiness  of  the  Church  apart  from  the  holiness 
or  otherwise  of  its  members  and  clergy.  It  was  in 
the  controversy  with  the  Donatists,  therefore,  that 
the  Catholic  doctrine  of  the  Church  was  completely 
developed.  To  the  foundation  principle  of  Dona- 
tism  ('qui  fidem  a  perfido  sumserit,  non  fidem  per- 
cipit  sea  reatum')  Optatus  of  Mileve  opposes  an 
equally  fundamental  position,  '  sacramenta  per  se 
esse  sancta,  non  per  homines.'  It  was  not  difficult 
for  Augustine  to  show  how  many  practical  diffi- 
culties were  involved  in  the  Donatist  contention, 
chief  among  them  the  difficulty,  amounting  to  im- 
possibility, of  knowing  the  true  character  of  the 
officiating  priest.  But  he  went  further,  and,  by 
asserting  the  indelible  character  of  Orders,  whereby 
an  ordained  person  retains  the  power  to  celebrate 
a  valid  sacrament,  whatever  be  his  views  or  his 
conduct,  and  the  mixed  composition  of  the  Church 
as  containing  not  only  'vessels  for  honour'  but 
'  vessels  for  dishonour,'  stamped  its  final  form  on 
the  Catholic  doctrine  of  the  Catholic  Church.  It 
is  true  that  in  doing  so  he  had  to  abandon  the 
position  taken  by  Cyprian,  and  assert  the  validity 
of  all  baptism,  even  that  performed  by  heretics, 
provided  that  it  was  in  the  name  of  the  Trinity. 
It  is  true  also  that  baptism  in  this  way  came  to 
lose  some  of  its  significance  and  to  represent  only 
a  'marking'  of  the  recipient,  the  beginning  of  a 
process  which,  though  it  might  begin  anywhere, 
could  be  consummated  only  within  the  Catholic 
Church  and  by  the  addition  of  '  charity '  to  faith. 
Moreover,  in  the  theory  of  the  Church  thus  de- 
veloped in  opposition  to  the  Donatists,  Augustine 
at  least  prepares  the  way  for  the  Reformation  dis- 
tinction between  the  Church  visible  and  the  Church 
invisible. 

Literature.— Optatus  Milev.,  de  Schismate  Donatistarum 
[PL  xi.] ;  Augustine,  c.  Epistolam  Parmeniani,  de  Unitate 
Ecclesiw,  de  Baptismo  contra  Donatistas,  c.  Literas  Petiliani, 
c.  Cresconium,  Breviculus  collationis  cum  Donatistis,  c.  Gau- 
dentium,  Ep.  ad  Bonifacium ;  F.  Ribbeck,  Donatus  und 
Augustinus,  Elberfeld,  1858 ;  D.  Vtilter,  Ursprung  des  Dona- 
li&mus,  Freiburg,  1882 ;  L..  Duchesne,  Dossier  du  Donatisme, 
Paris,  1890;  A.  Harnack,  Hist,  of  Dogma,  Eng.  tr.,  1894-99, 
esp.  vol.  v. ;  N.  Bonwetsch,  art.  'Donatismus,'  in  PRE  3,  iv. 

788-798.  C.  A.  Scott. 

DOOM,  DOOM  MYTHS  (Teutonic).— The 
belief  in  supernatural  powers  who  preside  over  the 
destinies  of  mankind  is  met  with  among  all  the 
Teutonic  peoples.  These  powers  have  more  espe- 
cially the  end  of  life  in  their  control,  and  they  are 
accordingly  now  and  then  identified  with  the  spirit 
of  death.  They  are  believed  to  become  incarnate 
in  female  form,  now  coalescing  in  a  single  being, 
now  appearing  as  three  sisters,  or  even  in  whole 
multitudes.  According  as  they  dispense  good  or 
evil  fortune  to  men,  they  are  distinguished  as 
friendly  or  hostile.  To  the  individual  they  fre- 
quently reveal  his  fate  in  dreams,  and  this  explains 
why  dreams  hold  so  important  a  place,  not  only  in 
the  common  life,  but  also  in  the  literature,  of  the 
Teutonic  race  (cf.  W.  Henzen,  Uber  die  Traume  in 
der  altnord.  Sagalitteratur,  Leipzig,  1890). 

The  ancient  Teutonic  dialects  possess  several  designations  for 
the  powers  of  destiny,  and  .in  not  a  few  cases  the  terms  have 
already  acquired  an  abstract  sense.  All  the  tribes  had  the  word 
meaning  Saturn  or  eventus  which  appears  in  O.H.G.  wurt,  A.S. 
wyrfi,  O.N.  urftr,  and  which  sometimes  signifies  the  spirit  of 
death  or  destiny,  and  sometimes  death  or  destiny  itself.  In  the 
old  Saxon  and  Scandinavian  dialects,  again,  the  name  found  in 
O.S.  metod ,  A.S.  meotod,  O.N.  mjotulSr,  the  power  which  '  metes 
out '  or  '  orderB,'  was  in  current  use ;  while  among  the  Southern 
Teutons  we  find  O.H.G.  gascaft,  O.S.  giskap,  A.S.  gescap,  'the 
spirit  who  creates '  ('  shapes '),  which  is  given  in  Grasco-Latin 
glosses  as  the  equivalent  of  parca.  In  works  of  the  15th  cent, 
the  gachschepfen  are  still  referred  to  as  powers  who  bestow  life 
upon  man  and  order  its  course  (Vintler,  Blume  der  Tugend, 
1411,  line  7865). 

The  belief  in  the  powers  of  destiny  has  assumed 
an  altogether  peculiar  form  in  northern  Scandi- 
navia. Here  they  are  known  for  the  most  part  by 
the  name  of  nornir.  Norn  is  a  word  of  obscure 
etymology,  but  appears  to  be  connected  with  Swed. 


noma,  nyrna,  '  to  tell  secretly,'  '  to  warn,'  and 
Mid.  Eng.  nyrnen,  '  to  recite.'  The  fate  of  man  is 
the  work  of  the  Norns  (skop  noma),  and  none  can 
evade  their  decree.  Even  the  destiny  of  the  gods 
lies  in  their  control.  Hence  they  make  their  ap- 
pearance at  the  birth  of  human  beings,  and  support 
the  mother  in  the  pains  of  labour.  People  seek  to 
win  their  favour  by  offerings.  In  the  Faroe  Islands 
it  is  still  the  custom  for  mothers  to  eat  the  '  Norn- 
groats '  (nomagreytur)  after  a  birth — a  survival 
of  the  ancient  oblation.  The  Norns  then  set  the 
tokens  of  their  goodwill  upon  the  finger-nails  of 
the  child,  and  those  who  have  white  spots,  the 
'  Norn-marks,'  on  their  nails  are  children  of  fortune. 
Like  the  fylgjur  (see  art.  Demons  and  Spirits 
[Teutonic],  vol.  iv.  p.  633),  the  Norns  continue 
their  good  services  to  human  beings  throughout 
life.  OSin  puts  his  protege  SigurSr  on  his  guard 
against  the  evil  Norns,  who  in  battle  stand  on 
either  side  of  a  man,  wishing  that  he  may  receive 
wounds.  The  blows  of  fate  are  supposed  to  be  the 
work  of  angry  Norns,  and  defeats  in  war  are  also 
traced  to  their  dictates.  A  person's  death  is  like- 
wise due  to  their  decree.  We  thus  see  the  hostile 
aspects  of  their  character  becoming  more  and  more 
pronounced,  and  hence,  as  is  stated  in  the  Voluspd 
(8  ff. ),  they  were  believed  to  have  sprung  originally 
from  the  race  of  giants,  and  the  golden  age  of  the 
gods  came  to  an  end  when  the  Norns  came  into 
being.  From  their  leading  representative,  UrSr,  is 
taken  the  name  of  the  only  fountain  in  the  under 
world,  the  Urftr  fountain ;  here,  according  to  Snorri, 
lay  their  abode,  and  from  this  retreat  they  exer- 
cised their  sway  over  the  fruitfulness  of  the  earth. 
The  Norns  are  often  found  in  a  group  of  three, 
or  in  three  companies.  It  is  possible  that  in  this 
point  the  classical  myths  of  the  Parcce  may  here 
and  there  have  had  an  influence  upon  the  sagas  of 
the  Norns.  They  are  depicted  as  maidens  who 
spin  the  thread  of  destiny  for  man.  Their  doings 
at  the  birth  of  Helgi,  the  slayer  of  the  Hundings, 
are  narrated  as  follows  : 

'Night  lay  over  the  house  when  the  Fates  came  to  forecast  the 
hero's  life.  They  said  that  he  should  be  called  the  most  famous 
of  kings  and  the  best  among  princes.  With  power  they  twisted 
the  strands  of  fate  for  Borghild's  son  in  Bralund  ;  they  spread 
the  woof  of  gold  and  made  it  fast  under  the  midst  of  the  moon's 
hall.  In  the  east  and  the  west  they  hid  the  thrums ;  all  the 
land  between  was  to  be  his.  Neri's  sister  fastened  one  strand  in 
the  sides  of  the  north,  and  prayed  that  it  might  hold  for  ever ' 
{HelgakvitSa  Sundingsbana,  ii.  2ff.,  Corp.  poet,  bor.,  1883,  ii.  131). 

The  story  of  Meleager  likewise  reappears  among 
the  Norn  myths.  The  fatal  three  are  present  at 
the  birth  of  Nornagest.  The  two  elder  sisters 
ordain  fortune  and  renown  for  the  child,  but  the 
younger  decides  that  he  shall  live  only  so  long  as 
the  taper  by  his  cradle  remains  unconsumed. 
Thereupon  the  elder  sister  seizes  the  taper,  ex- 
tinguishes it,  and  hands  it  to  the  mother,  thus 
conveying  to  mother  and  child  the  power  of  fixing 
the  term  of  the  child's  life  (Nomagestssaga,  ed. 
Bugge,  1865,  p.  77). 

The  names  V erSandi  and  Skuld,  sometimes  given 
to  two  of  the  Norns,  are  due  to  a  learned  blunder 
of  the  12th  cent.,  and  have  no  better  authority 
than  an  interpolation  in  the  Voluspd.  The  author 
of  the  passage  erroneously  connected  the  name 
Urftr  with  the  preterite  stem  of  the  verb  verlSa, 
'  to  be,'  and  interpreted  it  as  denoting  the  Norn  of 
the  past ;  he  then  proceeded  to  fabricate  a  Ver'S- 
andi  as  the  Norn  of  the  present,  and  a  Skuld  as  the 
Norn  of  the  future,  taking  the  former  from  vefSa, 
and  the  latter  from  skulu,  the  word  used  to  denote 
the  future  tense.  The  idea  that  the  three  Norns 
inscribe  the  life  of  man  on  tablets  emanates  from 
the  same  writer  ( Voluspd,  20). 

Literature. — J.  Grimm,  Deutsche  Mythologies,  Gottingen, 
1875,  i.  335  ff.  ;  E.  Mogk,  Germanische  Mythol?,  Strassburg, 
1907,  p.  52  ff. ;  E.  H.  Meyer,  Mythol.  d.  Germanen,  Strassburg, 
1903,  p.  251  ff.  E.  MOGK. 


846 


DOOR 


DOOR. — Doors,  whether  of  dwellings  or  of 
temples,  play  an  important  part  in  ritual  and 
belief  over  a  very  wide  area.  Often  the  dwelling- 
place  of  a  spirit  or  divinity,  the  door  has  almost 
invariably  a  saered  character.  The  origin  of  the 
latter  is  perhaps  best  sought  in  the  conception  of 
the  door  as  separating  between  two  worlds — the 
outside  world,  where  are  innumerable  hostile  influ- 
ences and  powers,  and  the  region  within  the  limits 
of  the  house,  the  influences  and  powers  of  which 
are  friendly.  The  door  is  at  once  the  barrier 
against  those  hostile  influences,  and  that  which 
gives  entrance  to  those  who  have  a  right  to  pass  to 
the  sacred  region  within.  Hence  those  who  pass 
through  the  door — the  limit  of  the  sacred  region, 
and  therefore  itself  sacred — must  do  so  with  care 
and  often  with  certain  ritual  acts.  Thus  the 
sacredness  of  the  door  was  probably  at  first  inde- 
pendent of  its  connexion  with  a  god  or  spirit.  But 
that  connexion,  once  established,  could  only  add  to 
its  sacred  character.  Again,  being  the  dividing 
line  between  hostile  and  friendly  spheres,  the 
doorway  was  supposed  to  be  a  place  where  evil 
influences  clustered,  or  sometimes  even  dwelt. 
But  more  usually  the  household  spirits  dwell  at 
the  door  and  protect  it.  As  these  are  generally 
connected  with  the  hearth,  it  is  not  clear  why  they 
should  also  be  associated  with  the  door.  But  two 
reasons  may  be  suggested.  The  door  is  the  exterior 
limit  of  their  dominion,  where  their  influence 
would  first  be  met  with,  and  where  they  might 
reasonably  be  supposed  to  dwell.  And  when  men 
dwelt  in  rock-shelters,  caves,  or  half-open  huts, 
the  fire  would  be  at  or  near  the  entrance,  as  it  still 
burns  in  front  of  savage  huts.1  When,  later,  it  was 
taken  into  the  house,  the  connexion  of  ancestral 
ghosts  with  the  hearth  would  be  shared  with  the 
entrance,  their  former  exclusive  domain.  In  some 
cases  also  burial  takes  place  at  the  doorway. 

Besides  being  sacred  as  a  whole,  the  door  has 
special  sanctity  in  its  more  important  parts — 
threshold,  side-posts,  and  lintel — as  will  be  seen  in 
the  course  of  this  article.  But  it  is  impossible, 
with  Trumbull,  to  regard  the  sacredness  of  the 
threshold  as  originating  in  its  having  been  the 
primitive  altar — first  of  the  house,  then  of  the 
temple.  The  many  rites  connected  with  threshold 
or  door  by  no  means  bear  out  this  theory,  though, 
where  sacrifice  is  performed  at  the  door,  the 
threshold  stone  may  become  for  the  nonce  a  species 
of  altar.  But  more  probably  the  sacrifice  is  not 
slain  on  the  threshold,  just  as  the  fire  at  the 
entrance  would  not  have  the  threshold  for  a 
hearth,  while  the  altar  of  primitive  tribes  is  un- 
connected with  the  threshold  (see  Altae). 

The  sacredness  of  the  door  as  the  passage  to  a  different 
domain  is  seen  in  many  folk-tales  of  the  Forbidden,  or  Tabued, 
Door,  through  which  certain  persons  must  not  pass,  and  beyond 
which  lie  matters  into  which  they  must  not  penetrate.  To  do 
so  is  generally  followed  by  fatal  consequences  (CF  306  ff.). 
Similarly  the  stranger  must  not,  without  due  preparation,  pass 
the  family  door,  nor  may  the  profane  cross  the  temple  threshold. 

I.  Ritual  acts  at  doors. — The  sacredness  of  the 
door  as  a  means  of  passage  from  one  state  to 
another  appears  in  numerous  rites  connected  with 
the  threshold. 

(a)  The  bride  must  step  across  the  threshold  of  the 
husband's  house  with  the  right  foot  foremost,  the 
bridegroom  in  the  ancient  Vedic  ceremonial  in- 
structing her  to  do  so  (SBE  xxx.  193).  This 
custom  is  also  found  in  more  modern  times  else- 
where. Or,  again,  an  animal  is  sacrificed  at  the 
threshold,  and  the  bride  must  step  across  the 
outpoured  blood — a  custom  existing  among  the 
Somalis,  in  Syria,  Armenia,  and  with  the  Copts  in 
Egypt  (FLJ  vi.  [1888] '121;  Trumbull,  Threshold 
Covenant,  1896,  p.  26  ;  Garnett,  Women  of  Turkey, 
1890,  p.  239 ;  Lane,  Modern  Egyptians,  1846,  iii. 
1  Cf.  ERE  ii.  356  for  instances  among  the  Hereros. 


192).  Or  an  offering  is  made,  the  materials  being 
often  presented  to  the  bride,  while  she  smears  the 
door-posts  with  them,  before  crossing  the  threshold 
(see  Trumbull,  29  f.).  Even  more  wide-spread  is 
the  custom  of  carrying  the  bride  across  the 
threshold — a  rite  occurring  among  the  Greeks, 
Romans,  Chinese,  Mordvins,  Abyssinians,  in  Syria 
and  Egypt,  and  found  as  a  survival  in  parts  of 
England  and  Scotland  (Plut.  Rom.  Qumst.  29  ;  FL 
i.  [1890]  459,  487  ;  Bruce,  Travels,  1804,  vii.  67  ; 
Burckhardt,  Arab.  Proverbs,  1875,  p.  137 ;  NQ, 
8th  ser.,x.  [1896]  328;  Dalyell,  Darker  Sup.  of  Scot- 
land,  1835,  p.  291  ;  Gregor,  Folk-lore  of  N.E.  of 
Scotland,  1881,  p.  51 ;  Van  Gennep,  Les  Rites  de 
passage,  Paris,  1909,  p.  186;  for  other  refs.,  see 
Trumbull,  38  ff. ).  The  last  custom  has  sometimes 
been  explained  as  a  relic  of  marriage  by  capture, 
but  it  forms  one  of  a  group  of  rites  by  which  it  is 
sought  to  safeguard  the  sanctity  of  the  threshold. 
Generally,  before  a  stranger  can  be  received,  cer- 
tain rites  must  be  performed  to  remove  the  con- 
tagion of  tabu  resting  on  him  qua  stranger.  The 
bride,  belonging  primitively  to  a  different  kin, 
was  so  far  a  stranger,  and  therefore  dangerous. 
Hence  certain  precautions  must  be  taken  to  render 
propitious  the  spirit  or  divinity  of  the  threshold — 
an  offering  is  made,  or  the  bride  is  carried  over  the 
sacred  spot  (carrying  or  suspending  above  ground 
of  tabued  persons  is  a  common  rite),  or  she  steps 
over,  not  on,  it,  but  always  with  the  right  foot 
foremost,  or  she  steps  over  the  blood  by  which  the 
spirit  is  propitiated,  and  through  which,  perhaps, 
she  is  brought  into  a  kin  or  covenant  relation  with 
him.  This  is  seen  more  clearly  in  a  Panjab  rite. 
The  bride  holds  the  door-frame  of  the  bridegroom's 
house.  His  mother  gives  her  a  cup  of  water  to 
drink  and  welcomes  her,  and  presents  are  given  by 
members  of  the  husband's  family.  Cotton  is  laid 
down,  and  she  is  bidden  to  come  in.  She  steps  on 
it,  and  is  now  an  integral  member  of  the  family 
{FL  ix.  [1898]  152  f. ).  In  some  cases  the  bridegroom 
makes  an  offering  at  the  threshold  of  the  bride's 
house — perhaps  a  relic  of  those  marriages  in  which 
the  husband  went  to  live  in  her  home.  Crooke 
(FL  xiii.  [1902]  238,  '  The  Lifting  of  the  Bride ') 
sees  in  the  lifting  a  charm  to  promote  fertility  in 
some  instances,  in  others  a  method  of  protection 
against  evil  influences.  It  should  also  be  noted 
that  in  Lapland  and  Hungary  stepping  over  the 
threshold  ensures  the  protection  of  the  family  and 
of  the  tutelar  spirit  (Jones  and  Kropf,  Folk-Tales 
of  the  Magyars,  18S9,  p.  410  f.). 

(b)  Treading  on  the  threshold  is  frequently  for- 
bidden, or  is  considered  unlucky.  It  must  be  stepped 
over,  usually  with  the  right  foot  first  (cf.  FL  i. 
459  [Tatars] ;  Conder,  Heth  and  Moab,  1883,  p. 
293  [Syrians];  Lane,  Modern  Egyptians,  i.  118; 
Morier,  Second  Journ.  through  Persia,  1818,  p.  254 
[Muham.  mosques] ;  Trumbull,  12  [Finns  and 
Teutons] ;  1  S  51'6  [setiological  myth  explaining 
why  a  temple  threshold  is  not  trodden  on]).  This 
scrupulous  care  in  stepping  over  the  threshold  of 
a  temple,  e.g.  that  of  Baal  and  of  Jahweh,  is  also 
referred  to  and  condemned  in  Zeph  l9.  It  is 
obvious  that  the  act  had  the  force  of  a  religious 
rite.  Similarly,  novices,  on  initiation  into  a  secret 
society  among  the  Bella  Coolas,  had  to  leap  over 
the  threshold  of  the  dancing  house  (Frazer, 
Totemism  and  Exogamy,  1910,  iii.  512).  Hence  it 
is  also  unlucky  to  stumble  on  the  threshold, 
especially  when  going  on  a  journey  or  on  business, 
etc.  (Highlands,  Germany,  Transylvania,  Malaysia, 
Syria,  etc.  ;  see  Grimm,  Teut.  Myth.  1815 ;  FL  i. 
156,  xviii.  [1907]  59).  Pythagoras  refers  to  this 
belief,  and  says  that '  he  who  strikes  his  foot  against 
the  threshold  should  turn  back '  (Frag.  Phil.  Grose, 
ed.  Mullach,  1868,  i.  510).  It  is  also  dangerous  to 
sneeze  at  the  threshold,  to  sit,  or  to  linger  at  it ;  or 


DOOR 


847 


for  women  to  suckle  their  children  there  (Hindus, 
Slavs,  Syrians,  etc.  [Crooke,  PR  i.  241  ;  Trum- 
bull, 11-12;  FL  xv.  [1904]  208— negroes  of  Jamaica 
believe  that  '  duppies '  will  take  those  who  sit  at 
thresholds ;  FL  xviii.  59]). 

(c)  The  sacredness  of  the  door,  and  especially  of 
the  threshold,  demands  also  that  acts  of  reverence 
be  paid  there.  The  threshold  is  to  be  crossed  with 
the  right  foot  first.  Or  a  charm  or  prayer  or  sacred 
formula  should  be  said  ('Bismiilah'  [Arabs], 
Palgrave,  Arabia,  1865,  i.  51  ;  a  formula  of  blessing 
when  the  door  is  first  opened  in  the  morning 
[Hebrides],  FL  x.  [1899]  261).  Or  prostration  and 
touching  the  threshold  with  the  forehead,  kissing 
it  or  the  door,  taking  off'  the  shoes,  crossing  oneself 
on  entering,  are  practised  ([Muhammadans]  Trum- 
bull, 11,  123;  Morier,  254;  Frag.  Phil.  Grwc.  i. 
510 ;  Ralston,  Songs  of  the  Russian,  People,  1872, 
p.  137  ;  Layard,  Nineveh,  1849,  i.  69). 

(d)  The  sacredness  of  the  door 1  makes  it  a  place 
to  deposit  objects  which  are  to  be  preserved  in  safety. 
In  Iceland  the  caul,  in  which  the  child's  guardian 
spirit  or  a  part  of  its  soul  resides,  was  buried  under 
the  threshold,  possibly  with  a  view  to  re-birth  in 
the  event  of  the  child  dying.  The  spirit  would 
pass  into  the  mother  as  she  crossed  the  threshold 
(Grimm,  Teut.  Myth.  874).  Among  the  Baganda, 
at  the  monthly  ceremony  connected  with  the 
king's  placenta,  to  ensure  his  life  and  health,  it  is 
deposited  in  the  doorway  for  a  night  and  a  day 
(Roscoe,  JA1  xxxii.  [1902]  63,  76). 

(e)  The  door  is  a  usual  place  at  which  to  offer 
sacrifices,  either  to  propitiate  the  household  spirit 
or  god,  and  so  to  unite  the  '  house '  with  him,  or  to 
repel  evil  influences,  or  to  remove  the  contagion  of 
uncleanness  from  all  in  the  house. 

In  Zindero  two  human  victims  were  sacrificed,  one  at  the 
threshold,  which  was  smeared  with  the  blood,  before  a  new  king 
entered  the  royal  hut  (Bruce,  Travels,  ii.  514).  In  W.  Africa,  in 
time  of  smallpox  or  expected  trouble,  gateways  are  sprinkled 
with  sacrificial  blood  (Kingsley,  Travels  in  W.  A/r.,  1897,  p.  451 ; 
NasBau,  Fetichism  in  W.  Afr.,  1904,  p.  93).  The  Dayaks  sprinkle 
the  doorway  with  the  blood  of  a  pig  sacrificed  as  an  expiation 
for  unchastity,  and  also  with  sacrificial  blood  at  seed-time  (St. 
John,  Life  in  the  Forests  of  the  Far  East,  1862,  i.  64,  157). 
Among  the  Aztecs  it  was  also  usual  to  smear  the  temple  doors 
with  the  blood,  the  sacrifice  being  offered  on  an  altar  near  the 
door  (Reville,  Native  Rel.  of  Mexico,  1884,  pp.  179,  183).  A 
similar  custom  may  be  seen  in  Herodotus'  account  (ii.  48)  of  the 
sacrifice  of  a  swine  to  Osiris,  at  the  door  of  each  house.  The 
carcass  was  given  to  the  swineherd,  so  that  the  main  part  of  the 
rite  was  the  blood-shedding.  In  Bab.  rituals  a  lamb  was  sacri- 
ficed at  the  gate  of  a  house,  and  its  blood  smeared  on  lintel  and 
doorposts,  and  on  the  huge  images  guarding  the  entrance 
(Zimmern,  Beitrdge  z.  Kenntnis  aer  bab.  Rel.,  Leipzig,  1901, 
p.  127  ;  cf.  Layard,  ii.  202).  In  Muslim  houseB  it  is  usual  to  dip 
the  hand  in  the  blood  of  sacrifices  offered  on  special  occasions, 
and  to  mark  the  surface  near  the  door  in  order  to  repel  the  jinn 
(FL  xviii.  [1907]  66).  For  other  examples,  Abyssinian,  Hindu, 
see  ERE  i.  56b,  iii.  445ft.  The  same  rite  of  smearing  the  doorway 
with  blood  occurs  as  a  survival  in  European  folk -custom,  e.g.  in 
Greece  at  Easter,  and  in  Ireland  on  St.  Martin's  eve,  to  keep 
out  evil  spirits  during  the  year  (FL  i.  275  ;  Mason,  Stat. 
Account,  1814-9,  iii.  75).  It  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  the 
Hebrew  Passover  rite  goes  back  to  a  sacrifice  by  which  the 
household  divinity  dwelling  at  the  doorway  was  propitiated 
and  his  protective  power  secured  against  the  evil  powers  (the 
'  destroyer ').  The  blood  was  smeared  on  doorposts  and  lintel, 
and  was  perhaps  first  poured  on  the  threshold  (Ex  1222  '  bason  ' 
[?  'threshold']). 

The  custom  of  slaying  a  sacrificial  victim  at  the 
door  to  welcome  a  guest,  or  before  the  entrance  of 
a  stranger,  or  even  on  the  return  of  the  master  of  a 
house  from  a  journey,  which  is  so  wide-spread, 
especially  in  Africa,  Syria,  and  the  East  (see  FL 
xviii.  66;  Trumbull,  Iff.),  had  probably  the 
primitive  intention  of  neutralizing  the  contagion 
of  evil  which  a  new-comer  brings  with  him,  and 
also  of  making  the  household  gods  propitious  to 
him.  From  this  it  may  have  passed  into  a  species 
of  covenant  rite — by  the  blood  shed  the  new-comer 
or  guest  was  made  one  with  the  household  or  its 
god.  In  other  cases  salt  is  sprinkled  on  the 
threshold,  or   bread  and   salt  are  offered  to  the 

1  The  Celto-Iberian  custom  of  dancing  at  the  doors  at  the 
time  of  full  moon  may  be  noted  (Strabo,  iii.  4.  16). 


guest  (cf.  Trumbull,  311.,  where  the  importance  of 
the  covenant  aspect  is  perhaps  over-emphasized). 

Other  offerings  occur  at  the  door.  In  ancient 
Vedic  law  the  householder  had  to  place  an  offering 
on  the  threshold,  at  the  same  time  reciting  a 
mantra  (SBE  ii.  107,  203).  At  seed-time  in 
N.W.  India  a  cup-shaped  cake  of  cow-dung  filled 
with  corn,  and  water  poured  over  it,  is  placed  on 
the  threshold  (FLR  v.  [1882]  34).  The  first  bundle 
of  corn  is  placed  near  the  threshold,  and  between 
it  and  the  threshold  a  libation  is  poured  forth, 
forming  an  offering  of  first-fruits  to  the  household 
god  (ib. ;  Trumbull,  16).  In  the  north  of  Scotland, 
part  of  the  first  load  of  sea-'  waar '  used  for  manure 
was  placed  on  New  Year's  day  at  each  door  of  the 
farm  to  bring  good  fortune  (Gregor,  in  FL  J  ii.  [1884] 
331).  In  Babylonia,  libations  of  oil,  honey,  and 
wine  were  poured  over  the  thresholds  of  temples, 
and  honey  and  wine  over  bolts  (Jastrow,  Rel.  Bab., 
1898,  p.  664  f.). 

(/)  The  frequent  use  of  sacrifices  at  or  near  doors 
of  temples  is  seen  from  the  fact  that  in  many 
temples  an  altar  stands  beside  the  door  or  entrance. 
Among  the  Hebrews  the  altar  of  burnt-offering 
stood  at  the  entrance  of  the  tabernacle  of  the  tent 
of  meeting  (Ex  406).  Offerings  were  brought  to  the 
door  of  the  tent  of  meeting  and  slain,  and  the 
blood  sprinkled  on  the  altar  (Lv  Is- B  32  44- 7  etc. ,  cf. 
172ff-).  Similarly,  in  the  temple  the  altar  of  burnt- 
offering  stood  before  the  entrance  to  the  Holy 
Place,  like  the  large  altar  of  the  outer  court  of 
Bab.  temples.  The  greater  Greek  and  Roman 
altars  frequently  stood  before  the  entrance  to  the 
pads  or  cella.  Trumbull  notes  other  instances  from 
Assyria  and  Asia  Minor,  Mexico,  Polynesia,  etc. 
(115,  121,  144,  150;  cf.  Ellis,  Pol.  Researches, 
1832-6,  iv.  89).  In  Dahomey  little  mounds  of  earth 
are  often  found  at  doorways,  and  on  them  offerings 
are  laid  (Schneider,  Rel.  der  afrik.  Naturvolker, 
Minister,  1891,  p.  115) ;  and  in  Greece  altars  were 
often  placed  at  gateways  or  doors.  The  sanctity  of 
the  door  or  threshold  is  also  emphasized  in  the 
OT.  At  the  door  of  the  tent  of  meeting  took  place 
the  consecration  of  Aaron  and  his  sons  (Ex  294ff-). 
In  Ezekiel's  ideal  temple  the  '  Prince '  is  to  worship 
at  the  threshold  of  the  gate  of  the  inner  court  (462). 
When  Moses  spoke  to  Jahweh,  the  pillar  of  cloud 
descended  and  stood  over  the  door  of  entrance  to 
the  tent  of  meeting ;  and  in  Ezekiel's  temple  the 
glory  of  Jahweh  mounts  up  from  the  cherub  and 
stands  over  the  threshold  of  the  house  (Ex  338ff-,  Dt 
3116,  Ezk  9s  104).  The  thresholds  of  the  tent  of 
meeting  had  their  guardians  (1  Ch  922),  and  later 
those  of  the  temple  (2  K  22"  23",  2  Ch  234,  Jer  354  ; 
cf.  Ps  8410).  The  office  of  doorkeeper  (Bvpupoi, 
wvXapol)  soon  came  into  existence  in  the  Christian 
Church  (Cornelius,  ap.  Eus.  HE  vi.  43 ;  Bingham, 
Antiq.,  1829,  i.  293,  cf.  257). 

The  ancient  custom  of  baptistery  and  font  being  outside  the 
church  (Eus.  HE  x.  4 ;  Cyril,  Catech.  Myst.  i.  2),  preceded  by 
the  custom  of  baptizing  in  any  place  where  there  was  water 
(Tert.  de  Bapt.  4 ;  Justin,  Apol.  i.  61),  is  connected  with  the 
general  idea  that  none  but  the  initiated  can  enter  the  sanctuary, 
and  also  with  the  ritual  of  purification  before  sacrificing,  enter- 
ing a  temple,  etc.,  for  which  special  vessels  stood  near  the 
entrance — the  napippavriipia.,  or  fonts,  at  the  entrance  of  the 
Greek  va6s,  the  jars  for  ablutions  which  stood  beside  the  altars 
of  Bab.  temples,  the  Bab.  apsu,  and  the  lavers  and  brazen  sea 
of  Solomon's  temple  (Jastrow,  652-3  ;  Sayce,  Rel.  of  Anc.  Egypt 
and  Bab.,  1902,  p.  458  ;  2  Ch  42-?). 

2.  Guardian  spirits  and  divinities  of  doors. — The 

sacredness  of  the  door  was  connected  with  its  spirit 
or  Divine  guardianship.  In  many  cases  we  find 
deliberate  methods  resorted  to  in  order  to  secure  a 
spirit  guardian,  in  the  first  instance,  of  the  door  of 
a  house,  and  later,  of  the  gate  of  a  city.  One 
of  these  is  burial.  House  burial  is  of  very  wide 
occurrence,  and  is  probably  primitive.  It  usually 
takes  place  under  the  floor,  but  there  are  occasional 
instances   of   its  occurrence   under  the  threshold 


848 


DOOR 


(Ralston,  326  [Slavs];  Jastrow,  599  [Bab.];  ERE 
iii.  34a  [Burma]).  Burial  at  gates  is  also  found  in 
Greece — ^Etolus  was  buried  in  a  tomb  in  the  gate 
leading  to  Olympia,  and,  from  his  grave  over  the 
Scsean  gate  at  Troy,  Laomedon  was  believed  to 
guard  the  city.  Neoptolemus  was  also  buried 
under  the  threshold  of  the  temple  at  Delphi  (Pau- 
sanias,  ed.  Frazer,  v.  4.  4  and  notes).  The  ashes 
of  Belinus,  a  British  god,  were  said  to  have  been 
preserved  at  the  gate  on  the  Thames  (  =  Billings- 
gate [Geoff.  Mon.  iii.  1]) — a  myth  founded  on  gate- 
burial  and  Divine  guardianship  of  the  gate.  In 
other  cases,  sacrifice  was  resorted  to.  At  the  build- 
ing of  a  hut  or  house  a  human  victim  is  often 
placed  under  the  roof-post,  the  four  corners,  the 
threshold,  or  the  foundation,  whatever  that  may 
be,  or  the  walls ;  and  the  same  is  true  of  the  build- 
ing of  a  gate.  There  is  no  proof,  however,  that 
(as  Trumbull  supposes  [op.  cit.  21])  the  threshold 
stone  was  originally  the  foundation  stone.  The 
victims  may  be  intended  to  propitiate  the  earth- 
spirits  whose  domain  is  disturbed  by  the  digging, 
but  they  are  also  expected  to  act  as  guardians  of 
the  house,  door,  or  gate.  In  old  Canaanite  houses 
new-born  children  were  sacrificed  and  buried  under 
floor,  corners,  or  threshold — a  custom  later  com- 
muted to  burial  of  a  lamp  or  bowls  in  these  places 
(PEFSt,  1903,  pp.  10  f.,  36  ff.).  The  passages  in 
Jos  628,  1  K  1634  have  an  undoubted  reference  to 
this  custom.  In  Phoenicia,  men  were  buried  be- 
neath gates  to  make  the  town  secure  (Movers,  Die 
Phonizier,  Berlin,  1840,  ii.  46).  Instances  of  sacri- 
fices at  the  building  of  a  city  gate  are  cited  from 
the  farther  East  (Alabaster,  The  Wheel  of  the  Law, 
1871,  p.  212  [Siam] ;  Tylor,  Prim.  Cult.*,  1903,  i. 
106  ;  ERE  iii.  27a  [Tenasserim,  Mandalayj),  and  in 
Senegambia  it  was  formerly  the  custom  to  bury 
alive  a  boy  and  girl  before  the  chief  door  of  the 
town,  in  order  to  make  it  impregnable  (Waitz, 
Anthrop.,  Leipzig,  1860,  ii.  197).  The  coins  placed 
under  the  door  in  China  and  Syria  at  the  building 
of  a  house  are  probably  surrogates  for  such  sacri- 
fices, like  the  Canaanite  lamps.  In  Syria  a  cock 
is  sacrificed,  and  its  blood  poured  over  the  lintel 
and  steps  of  a  new  house  (Doolittle,  Social  Life  of 
the  Chinese,  1866,  ii.  75  ;  FL  xviii.  [1907]  59). 

On  foundation-sacrifices  in  general,  see  Sartori,  ZE  xxx.  [1898] 
1  ff . ;  Liebrecht,  Zut  Volkskvmde,  Heilbronn,  1879,  p.  284  ff. ; 
Gomme,  Folk-Lore  Relics,  1883,  p.  24). 

In  all  such  cases  it  is  evident  that  the  spirit  of 
the  door  is  connected  with  the  household  spirit, 
and  that  both  are  ultimately  ghosts  of  the  dead, 
though  the  sacrifice  or  burial  took  place  there  be- 
cause the  door  or  threshold  was  already  considered 
an  important  part  of  the  house.  Souls  were  sup- 
posed to  dwell  under  the  threshold  in  ancient  India 
(Oldenberg,  Rel.  des  Veda,  Berlin,  1894,  p.  553). 
Among  the  Slavs  the  domovoj,  or  house-spirit, 
associated  with  the  hearth,  is  propitiated  at  cer- 
tain times  by  offerings  buried  beneath  the  threshold 
(Trumbull,  19).  Similarly  the  household  penates 
of  the  Mordvins  receive  offerings  at  the  door,  which 
is  their  seat  [FL  i.  422  ff. ).  In  Germany  a  spirit 
sits  between  door  and  doorpost;  hence  the  door 
must  not  be  banged,  and  other  precautions  must 
be  taken  lest  he  leave  and  take  the  luck  with  him 
(Grimm,  1820;  FL  xiii.  [1902]  238  ff.).  In  Irish 
and  Scots  belief  the  household  fairies  reside  at  the 
threshold  (Crooke,  PR  i.  241).  In  Samoa  the  tute- 
lary spirit  is  also  associated  with  the  doorway,  and 
is  angry  when  water  is  spilt  on  the  threshold 
(Turner,  Samoa,  1884,  p.  37). 

In  many  regions  the  door  or  gate  is  put  under 
the  protection  of  special  divinities,  or  is  called  by 
the  name  of  a  god.  The  Ainus  have  a  god  of  door- 
posts, and  to  him,  as  to  the  gods  of  other  parts  of 
the  hut,  worship  is  paid  at  its  construction,  and 
offerings  of  incto  are  made  at  other  times  (FLJ  vi. 


[1888]  40 ;  Batchelor,  Ainu  and  their  Folk-lore, 
1901,  p.  129).  The  Japanese  have  gods  of  doors 
and  gates  who  guard  against  '  unfriendly  things 
from  below  and  above,'  and  are  in  some  cases 
personifications  of  the  gates,  since  these  were 
conceived  as  living  things  exercising  protective 

Eowers.  Small  prints  of  the  Ni-6,  guardians  of 
oly  places,  are  set  on  the  doors  for  protection 
(Revon,  RHR  li.  [1905]  389  f. ;  Aston,  Shinto,  1905, 
pp.  168,  283).  In  China  the  usual  gods  of  the  doors 
are  Shen-Shu  and  Ju-Lu,  though  other  divinities 
or  guardians  occur.  They  guard  the  house  and 
other  buildings ;  and  images  of  them,  larger  or 
smaller,  or  pictures  of  them,  or  simply  their  names, 
are  found  at  the  door,  with  a  shrine  on  the  left  hand 
(de  Groot,  LesFetes  annuellement  ctlibries a  Emoui, 
tr.  Chavannes,  Paris,  1886,  p.  597 ff.;  Williams, 
The  Middle  Kingdom,  New  York,  1848,  i.  731). 
In  India,  Vattuma  is  the  threshold  god,  dwelling 
there,  to  whom  offerings  are  made  when  the  door- 
way is  set  up.  Or,  as  among  the  Malers  of  Chota 
Nagpur,  Dwara  Gusain  is  lord  of  the  house  door, 
and  is  propitiated  with  rites  and  offerings,  in  time 
of  calamity,  at  the  doorway.  Images  and  pic- 
tures of  gods  are  also  placed  round  doors  (Trum- 
bull, 95  ;  Crooke,  PR 2  i.  104).  In  Egypt  each 
building  had  its  protecting  deity,  as  doorway 
inscriptions  prove,  while  sphinxes  guarded  the 
entrances  of  tombs  and  protected  them  from  the 
attacks  of  the  spirits  of  the  desert.  An  inscription 
runs :  '  I  protect  thy  sepulchral  chamber,  I  keep 
away  the  stranger,  I  overthrow  the  foes  with  their 
weapons.'  In  other  cases  a  royal  statue,  wearing 
the  magic  urozus  diadem,  guards  the  tomb  (ZA , 
1880,  p.  50  ;  Wilkinson,  i.  362  f.  ;  Maspero,  Etudes 
de  myth.,  Paris,  1893,  i.  79).  The  gates  of  Thebes 
were  each  dedicated  to  a  planet,  and  connected 
with  planetary  worship  (Nonnus,  Dionys.  v.  64). 
In  Babylonia  and  Assyria  gates  of  cities,  palaces, 
etc. ,  were  often  dedicated  to  gods  or  named  after 
them,  and  each  part  of  a  house  doorway  was  associ- 
ated with  the  great  divinities  to  whom  appeal  was 
made  (Maspero,  Life  in  Anc.  Eg.  and  Assyr.  1891, 
p.  220 :  Jastrow,  237).  But,  besides  this,  human- 
headed  winged  bulls,  lions,  and  other  monstrous 
forms  stood  at  the  entrances  of  temples  and  palaces 
to  guard  them  against  the  approach  of  the  demons, 
the  brood  of  Tiamat,  with  their  composite  forms 
(Maspero,  198  f.  ;  Jastrow,  263;  Sayce,  119).  In 
Guatemala,  Chahalka  was  the  god  of  houses,  and 
his  protection  was  assured  by  sprinkling  the  doors 
with  sacrificial  blood.  The  great  doorways  of 
Central  American  temples  were  also  guarded  by 
human  male  and  female  or  animal  figures  (Trum- 
bull, 98,  146).  In  Rome,  Janus  was  the  primitive 
numen  of  the  doorway  of  the  house  and  the  city- 
gate,  preventing  the  passage  of  all  evil  things  into 
the  house,  and  so  one  of  the  Penates.  He  was 
god  of  the  jani,  gates  in  the  form  of  arches  on  the 
roads,  etc.,  the  most  ancient  of  which  was  that  of 
the  Forum,  originally  a  temple  in  the  form  of  a 
gateway.  But  Janus,  as  god  of  doors  and  gates, 
was  rather  god  of  the  entry  and  departure  through 
the  gate  or  door.  This  is  seen  by  the  fact  that 
each  part  of  the  door  had  its  numen — Limentinus, 
of  the  threshold ;  Forculus,  of  the  leaves  of  the 
door ;  Cardea,  of  the  hinges  (Wissowa,  Rel.  u. 
Kult.  der  Rbmer,  Munich,  1902,  p.  91  ff.  ;  Toutain, 
Etudes  de  myth.,  Paris,  1909,  p.  197 ff.;  Tert.  de 
Corona,  13).  In  Greece,  Apollo  Aguieus  or  Thy- 
rasus  and  the  Antelii  were  concerned  with  entrances 
and  doors.  Images  of  Hecate  stood  at  doors,  to 
prevent  the  entrance  of  evil  spirits  and  ghosts, 
and  she  was  also  invoked  before  the  threshold  for 
protection  against  them.  At  doors  and  gates  stood 
also  the  ippal,  protective  images  or  symbols  of 
Hermes  (CGS  ii.  509,  516;  Brunck,  Analecta, 
1772-76,  iii.  197  ;  Tert.  de  Cor.  13).     See  ERE  iii. 


DOOR 


84-S 


165,  for  Cambodian  spirit-guardians  of  the  door. 
The  belief  in  Divine  guardians  of  the  doorway 
among  the  Hebrews  is  suggested  by  Ex  216,  where 
the  bondman  who  does  not  wish  to  go  free  is  brought 
to  the  Eldhtm,  to  the  door  or  doorpost,  where  his 
ear  is  pierced  with  an  awl  (cf.  ERE  i.  445b). 

The  presence  of  the  household  spirit  or  god  makes  the  door- 
way sacred.  This  receives  illustration  in  other  directions  in 
which  sacred  persons  confer  sacredness  on  the  door.  In  Poly- 
nesia, when  the  king  or  queen  entered  a  temple,  the  door  was 
shut  up  as  being  aacred  (Turner,  Polynesia,  1861,  p.  323).  In 
India,  any  one  ill  of  smallpox,  being  possessed  by  the  smallpox 
deity,  makes  the  house  sacred,  and  the  door  is  tabu  to  certain 
persons,  or  must  only  be  crossed  with  a  due  ritual  (Crooke, 
PR  i.  136 ;  cf.  ERE  iii.  312t>).  In  the  South  Sea  Islands,  the 
first-born  being  sacred,  no  one  can  pass  through  the  door  by 
which  he  enters  his  father's  house  (Gill,  Life  in  S.  Isles,  1S76, 
p.  46).  Cf.  also  Ezk  442  (the  door  by  which  Jahweh  enters  the 
temple  is  to  be  shut,  and  none  but  the  '  Prince '  can  enter  it). 

The  gates  and  doors  of  temples  are  always 
peo.iliarly  sacred,  since  the  temple  is  the  abode  of 
a  god.  The  outer  courts  of  Buddhist  temples  in 
China  and  Japan  have  single  or  double  roofed 
gateways,  mon,  coloured  a  dull  red,  with  figures 
on  either  side.  In  front  are  the  '  heavenly  dogs,' 
and  under  the  gateway  in  some  instances  is  the 
figure  of  Buddha,  and  the  Ni-6,  or  two  kings, 
hideous  and  gigantic  figures  guarding  the  gate. 
Other  hideous  forms  of  the  thunder  and  wind 
gods  are  set  on  niches  in  the  gates.  Petitions  are 
made  to  the  Ni-6,  written  on  paper  pellets,  which 
are  chewed  and  flung  against  them.  Before  the 
inner  sanctuary  is  reached  many  other  gates  must 
first  be  passed  (Curzon,  Problems  of  the  Far  East, 
1894,  p.  109 ;  Bird,  Unbeaten  Tracks  in  Japan, 
1893,  pp.  21  f.,  59). 

Not  only  is  the  temple  door  sacred,  and  there- 
fore highly  decorated  with  carving  or  precious 
metals,  but  an  isolated  gateway  or  entrance  arch 
is  often  found  in  front  of  it.  This  is  a  duplicate 
of  the  door,  serving  the  same  purpose,  but  acting 
as  a  preliminary  entrance  to  the  sacred  precincts 
and  a  barrier  against  evil  influences.  It  may  be 
derived  originally  from  the  barriers  or  porticoes 
hung  with  charms  which  are  often  stretched  across 
roads  and  entrances  to  villages  to  prevent  the 
intrusion  of  all  malicious  things,  e.g.  in  Africa 
(Kingsley,  450-1  ;  van  Gennep,  22).  Such  isolated 
doorways  are  placed  in  front  of  other  buildings 
than  temples,  or  they  occur  in  other  isolated  situa- 
tions, for  particular  purposes,  e.g.  monumental 
memorials.  The  tori-wi  of  Japan  is  found  in  front 
of  all  Shinto  and  many  Buddhist  temples  and 
shrines.  It  consists  of  two  uprights  and  two  or 
more  cross-beams  painted  red,  the  upper  projecting 
and  curving  upwards  at  both  ends.  Though  now 
regarded  as  a  bird  perch,  i.e.  for  the  birds  sacred 
to  the  gods,  its  original  purpose  is  unmistakable 
(Aston,  231-2 ;  Chamberlain,  Things  Japanese, 
1890,  p.  356;  Bird,  148).  In  Korea  the  isolated 
gateway,  hong-sal-mun,  is  a  symbol  of  majesty 
and  government,  and  is  erected  in  front  of  palaces, 
government  buildings,  temples,  and  monasteries 
under  royal  patronage.  The  primitive  purpose 
of  the  hong-sal-mun  as  a  doorway  is  seen  in  the 
geo-man,  an  archway  outside  the  western  gate  of 
the  capital  on  the  road  to  Peking,  where  the  king 
goes  to  meet  the  Imperial  envoys  (Curzon,  142). 
In  China  these  arches,  pailoo,  are  of  a  commemora- 
tive nature.  Similarly,  the  triumphal  arch  of  the 
Romans  suggests  its  primitive  purpose  as  the  gate 
through  which  the  triumphant  soldier  returned 
from  a  hostile  country  into  his  own  district.  The 
propylon,  or  towered  gateway,  of  Egyptian  temples, 
with  its  flanking  towers,  obelisks,  or  statues,  and 
tall  masts,  all  led  up  to  by  an  avenue  of  sphinxes, 
forms  another  example  of  such  gateways.  In 
Babylonia,  before  the  gateway  of  the  great  court 
of  the  temple,  stood  two  detached  pillars,  like  the 
Egyptian  gate  obelisks.  They  correspond  to  the 
pillars  Jachin  and  Boaz  in  front  of  Solomon's 
vol.  iv. — 54 


temple  (1  K  7!1)>  and  were  doubtless  the  originals 
of  these.  Such  pillars  were  commonly  placed 
before  Semitic  temples,  e.g.  at  Paphos  and  Hiera- 
polis  (Lucian,  de  Dea  Syria,  16;  W.  R.  Smith3, 

457,  483). 

Sayce  regards  the  Bab.  pillars  as  representing  Nin-gis-zida 
('  Lord  of  the  upright  post  )  and  Tammuz,  warders  of  the  gate 
of  heaven,  just  as  the  flanking  towers  of  the  Egyptian  gate 
were  said  to  represent  Isis  and  Nephthys.  In  his  opinion,  Jachin 
is  a  translation  of  Nin-gis-zida,  and  Boaz  perhaps  a  corrupt 
reminiscence  of  Tammuz  (Sayce,  op.  cit.  350,  459-60 ;  Jastrow, 
624  f.). 

3.  Amulets  at  doorways. — Images  of  divinities 
and  monstrous  figures  at  doors  and  gates  are  in- 
tended to  repel  evil  influences  and  powers,  and  to 
guarantee  the  protection  of  the  doorway  gods. 
The  process  is  largely  a  magical  one.  As  the 
demoniac  figures  keep  off  demons,  so  also  the 
Medusa  head,  represented  on  door-knockers,  has 
the  same  effect,  or  repels  the  evil  eye.  Such  door- 
knockers or  handles  were  used  in  ancient  Italy, 
and  are  still  common  in  modern  Italy  for  the  same 
purpose,  while  the  female  face  on  English  door- 
knockers is  derivative  from  these  (FL  xiv.  [1903] 
217).  The  same  purpose  was  served  by  the  small 
images  of  protective  divinities,  often  with  invoca- 
tions printed  on  them,  buried  under  the  threshold 
of  Assyrian  houses,  palaces,  or  temples,  or  placed 
at  the  doors  to  keep  the  house  from  the  entrance 
and  malice  of  fiends  or  enemies  (Jastrow,  269). 
But,  since  amulets  of  all  kinds  are  placed  on  the 
roofs,  gables,  windows,  and  walls  of  houses  to  ward 
off  evil  influences,  they  are  naturally  also  fixed  on 
doorways  through  which  their  entrance  might  so 
easily  be  effected.  The  custom  is  found  from  the 
lowest  up  to  the  highest  levels  of  civilization.  It 
is  also  very  ancient.  This  is  proved  by  the  fact 
that,  on  the  entrances  of  Neolithic  cave-dwellings 
in  Palestine,  cup-markings  which  undoubtedly  were 
religious  symbols  or  served  a  magical  purpose  are 
found  (see  ERE  iii.  178a).  In  various  parts  of 
Africa,  charms  are  hung  on  the  doors  to  pre- 
vent evil  spirits  from  entering ;  and  in  civilized 
Greece,  doors  and  gates  of  all  kinds  were  simi- 
larly protected  (Kingsley,  450;  Mackay,  Mackay 
of  Uganda,  1890,  p.  112  ;  ERE  iii.  438b).  The  door 
amulets  used  among  all  peoples  are  of  various 
kinds,  and  only  the  principal  varieties  need  be 
alluded  to  here. 

(a)  Sacred  plants,  flowers,  or  branches  are  com- 
monly used,  especially  on  particular  occasions 
when  evil  forces  are  most  to  be  dreaded,  e.g.  at 
a  birth. 

In  Bab.  incantations  against  demons,  various  plants  are  men- 
tioned as  having  been  hung  on  the  lintel  (Thompson,  Devils 
and  Evil  Spirits  0/ Bab.,  1903-4,  i.  137).  In  India,  at  a  birth, 
leaves  and  flowers  along  with  a  sickle,  edge  outwards,  are 
placed  outside  the  door  to  bar  the  demons  (Billington,  Woman 
in  India,  1895,  p.  2).  The  Greek  and  Roman  practice  of  crown- 
ing the  door  with  sacred  garlands  on  various  occasions  (Tert.  de 
Corona,  10)  had  more  than  a  festal  purpose.  In  Attica,  at  the 
birth  of  a  boy,  an  olive- wreath  was  hung  on  the  door  (Hesychius, 
s.v.  o-Tc4>avov  eK^e'peiv).  In  Rome,  doorpost  and  threshold  were 
touched  thrice  with  an  arbutus  branch,  and  water  was  sprinkled 
at  the  entrance,  at  a  birth,  to  keep  off  witches.  Branches  and 
wreaths  were  also  hung  up  at  the  Palilia  (Ovid,  Fasti,  iv.  721  ff., 
vi.  155).  In  modern  Greece,  a  piece  of  wild  onion  is  placed  over 
the  lintel  to  keep  off  the  evil  eye,  or  garlands  of  flowers  and  garlic 
are  hung  up  on  May-day  for  the  same  purpose  (FL  x.  [1S99)181, 
260).  In  China,  at  a  birth,  pummelo-leaves  and  slips  of  a  fragrant 
thorn  are  suspended  over  the  door  to  keep  off  evil  spirits  (FLJ 
v.  [1SS7]  222).  In  Japan,  on  New  Year's  day  and  on  other 
occasions,  branches,  etc.,  are  fixed  up  as  averters,  or  a  rope  of 
rice  straw  with  fern  and  holly  leaves  is  hung  up  (Aston,  191, 
312  f.).  The  Ainus  place  inao  in  doorways  as  charms  against  evil 
(Batchelor,  91).  In  Ireland,  on  May-eve,  the  threshold  is  strewn 
with  marsh  marigolds  to  keep  out  fairies  and  to  bring  luck  (FL 
xv.  [1904]  457).  For  similar  practices  in  European  folk-custom, 
see  Prazer,  G£2  iii.  334;  Grimm,  Teut.  Myth.  iii.  1200,  1209, 
1211 ;  and  for  additional  instances,  see  ERE  iii.  354a,  394b  ;  Lane, 
Mod.  Egyptians,  1846,  ii.  77.  In  the  W.  Highlands,  pearl-wort 
placed  on  the  lintel  keeps  out  ghosts  (Campbell,  Witchcraft  and 
Second  Sight,  1902,  pp.  103,  172). 

(b)  Salt  is  sometimes  strewn  on  the  threshold,  on 
account  of  its  apotropceic  properties,  as  in  Syria  {FL 
xviii.  [1907]  70).     In  Aberdeenshire  it  was  placed 


850 


DOOR 


with  fire  on  the  threshold  of  a  byre,  before  a  cow  after 
calving  left  the  byre  (FLJ  ii.  [1884]  330).  Pebbles 
and  grains  are  sprinkled  on  the  doorstep  to  keep 
out  ghosts,  who  must  count  them  and  cannot  get 
beyond  three  (FL  xv.  214).  Iron  is  also  a  powerful 
charm  at  doors  as  in  other  places,  especially  at 
birth,  when  an  iron  weapon  or  utensil  is  placed  at 
the  door  (India  [Campbell,  Spirit  Basis  of  Belief 
and  Custom,  Bombay,  1885,  p.  387],  and  very 
commonly  in  European  folk-custom  at  birth,  after 
a  funeral  to  keep  the  ghost  out  [JAIxv.  69],  and 
on  other  occasions).  Both  because  it  is  made  of 
iron  and  also  because  of  other  reasons  connected 
either  with  the  former  sacred  nature  of  the  horse 
or  with  its  supposed  resemblance  to  the  form  of 
the  female  sex  organs,  the  horse-shoe  is  a  very 
common  door  charm  in  most  countries.  Usually 
the  charm  is  effective  only  when  the  ends  are 
placed  upwards.  It  keeps  out  fairies,  witches, 
ghosts,  and  other  evil  powers,  and  keeps  in  or 
brings  luck ;  and  for  this  purpose  it  is  found  on 
house-,  byre-,  or  stable-doors,  doors  of  mosques, 
temples,  or  even  Christian  churches  (see  R.  M. 
Lawrence,  Magic  of  the  Horse-shoe,  Boston,  1899 ; 
Farrer,  Primitive  Manners  and  Customs,  1879, 
p.  293 ;  Crooke,  PR  ii.  15  [India] ;  ERE  iii.  451b 
[Japan] ;  FL  xi.  [1900]  108,  FLR  iv.  [1881]  189  [Eng- 
land] ;  FLR  iv.  102,  FL  xvi.  [1905]  70  [Jamaica]  ; 
Campbell,  12,  13,  15  [Hebrides] ;  FLJ  ii.  43  [Tur- 
comans];  Gentleman's  Magazine,  1867,  p.  307  ff.). 
This  charm  is  also  very  common  on  houses  in 
the  West  Highlands. 

(c)  A  hand  with  the  fingers  extended  is  repre- 
sented on  or  above  doors.  Sometimes  it  is  formed 
by  dipping  the  hand  in  the  blood  of  an  animal  slain 
at  the  door,  and  then  making  an  impression  of  it 
on  the  door.  Or  the  hand  is  painted — usually  in 
vermilion — or  carved.  The  custom  is  very  common 
in  the  East  among  both  Jews  and  Muhammadans 
(FL  vi.  174,  xv.  189,  xviii.  66 ;  Luncz,  Jerushalayim, 
Vienna,  1892,  i.  19  ;  Conder,  Beth  and  Moab,  1883, 
p.  275  f.).  It  is  found  in  India,  Japan,  ancient 
Assyria,  in  Babylon  and  in  Carthage  (see  ERE  iii. 
411%  446"  ;  Trumbull,  75,  78,  323).  The  hand  thus 
serves  the  purpose  of  the  open  hand  in  folk-belief, 
as  a  powerful  charm  against  the  evil  eye,  and  it  also 
distracts  and  repels  evil  spirits  (see  Elworthy,  Evil 
Eye,  1895,  p.  233 ff.).  Used  to  make  an  impression 
of  blood,  its  purpose  as  the  sign  of  a  covenant 
between  the  contracting  parties,  human  and  Divine 
(so  Trumbull,  66  ff.),  if  it  exists  at  all,  is  secondary, 
as,  wherever  the  hand  is  used,  it  is  believed  to  be 
apotropseic,  like  the  blood  sprinkled  on  the  door- 
posts. It  is  then,  in  fact,  a  double  charm,  both 
hand  and  blood  having  repellent  powers.  Analog- 
ous to  the  use  of  blood  in  this  way  is  the  touching 
of  the  doorposts  with  menstrual  blood  or  urine,  to 
dissolve  spells  of  witchcraft  or  to  keep  off  fairies, 
ghosts,  or  the  evil  eye  (Pliny,  HN  xxviii.  24 ; 
Campbell,  Superstitions  of  the  Highlands  and  Is- 
lands of  Scotland,  Glasgow,  1900,  p.  36  Witchcraft, 
11,  137). 

(d)  Sacred  symbols  are  affixed  to  doors  as  a 
powerful  means  of  protection,  like  the  Divine 
images  at  doors  and  gates.  In  Christian  lands  no 
symbol  is  more  effective  than  the  cross  marked  on 
the  door  or  simply  signed  upon  it  or  some  parti- 
cular part  of  it,  or  signed  on  oneself  when  entering 
or  going  out.  It  keeps  off  ghosts,  witches,  and  all 
powers  of  evil  (FL  x.  [1899]  178,  260,  xvi.  [1905] 
50,  70  ;  Grimm,  iv.  1781 ;  Trumbull,  18 ;  cf.  Tert.  de 
Cor.  3).  The  swastika  symbol  is  commonly  marked 
on  doors  in  the  East  for  the  same  purpose  (Hindus, 
Buddhists,  etc.  [Crooke,  PR  i.  12,  160 ;  ERE  iii. 
412]).  Perhaps  the  figures  of  cherubim  carved  on 
the  doors  of  Solomon's  temple  served  the  same  end 
(1  K  632-  S5),  as  well  as  figures  of  the  Paschal  lamb, 
and  other  symbols  on  ancient  synagogue  lintels  in 


Palestine  (Trumbull,  70).  For  a  door  charm  com- 
posed of  dust  from  Muhammad's  tomb,  see  Lane, 
ii.  76.  Over  the  doors  of  Egyptian  temples  was 
placed  the  winged  disk  of  the  sun,  to  drive  off 
demons  from  the  building  (Erman,  Life  in  Ancient 
Egypt,  1894,  p.  272). 

(e)  Sacred  formulce  written  on  doors  have  also  a 
powerful  apotropseic  virtue,  and  are  of  very  wide 
occurrence. 

In  Babjionia,  tablets  with  sentences  from  the  sacred  texts 
were  hung  up  to  protect  against  demons  (Jastrow,  269).  In 
ancient  Egypt,  names  and  sentences  ol  a  lucky  or  favourable 
import  were  written  over  the  doors  or  on  the  doorposts  to 
secure  a  good  dwelling  (Wilkinson,  L  346,  361).  In  modern 
Egypt,  and  among  all  Muhammadans  elsewhere,  invocations  to 
God,  descriptions  of  His  might,  or  passages  from  the  Qur'an,  are 
inscribed  on  doors  (Lane,  i.  26,  ii.  74  ;  Porter,  Travels,  1821-2,  i. 
440).  The  Greeks  placed  inscriptions  and  wishes  for  '  good  luck ' 
over  their  doorways.  Similar  usages  are  found  in  India  and 
China  (Crooke,  PR  i.  160 ;  Williams,  Middle  Kingdom,  i.  731), 
while  the  Buddhist  prayer  poles  and  flags  outside  doors  are 
analogous  to  door  inscriptions.  These  usages  show  that  the 
command  to  write  the  words  of  laws  on  '  the  door  posts  of  thy 
house,  and  upon  thy  gates '  (Dt  69  ll20)  was  intended  to  take  the 
place  of  some  analogous  heathen  custom,  though  by  the  Hebrew 
the  words  must  have  been  regarded  as  efficacious  against  evil 
powers.  If  the  household  gods  had  been  associated  with  doors, 
this  dedication  of  the  door  to  Jahweh  showed  that  He  was  in- 
tended to  take  their  place.  Later  Jews  still  fix  the  inezuzd  to 
doorposts  in  the  form  of  an  amulet  with  sacred  words  and  Name. 
This  is  touched  with  a  finger  of  the  right  hand  and  kissed  on 
going  out,  while  a  sacred  formula  is  repeated.  For  the  use  of 
sacred  writings  or  pictures  affixed  to  doors  among  Christians 
see  ERE  iii.  425b,  428a.  Texts  carved  on  the  lintel  are  com- 
monly found  on  old  houses,  and  this  custom  is  undoubtedly 
derived  from  the  older  practice. 

The  wide-spread  use  of  these  door  charms  shows 
that  the  attack  of  ghosts,  evil  spirits,  witches,  or 
fairies  was  chiefly  dreaded  at  the  door,  through 
which  they  sought  to  enter  and  do  harm  to  those 
in  the  house.  Hence  at  the  Compitalia  the  Romans 
hung  up  effigies  of  all  in  the  household,  hoping 
that  the  ghosts  coming  to  the  door  would  be  satis- 
fied with  these  and  not  enter  to  take  the  living. 
But  a  closed  door  is  not  sufficient  to  keep  out 
ghosts  and  demons,  as  in  Babylonia  they  slip 
through  bolts,  doorposts,  and  sockets  (Jastrow, 
265)  ;  hence  the  value  of  charms  to  prevent  this. 
But  in  some  cases  the  evil  powers  actually  dwell  at 
the  door  or  in  its  vicinity. 

In  Germany  they  are  banished  to  between  the  door  and  door- 
post (Grimm,  iv.  1816).  In  Jerusalem  the  powers  of  evil  are 
supposed  to  infest  the  threshold,  doors,  and  entrances  (FL  xviii. 
[1907]  58).  Among  the  Birhors  of  Bengal  the  spirits  lurk  at  the 
door  (Orooke,  PR  ii.  56),  and  in  Burma  different  evil  spirits  reside 
at  doors  and  gates  {ERE  iii.  25a).  These  beliefs  perhaps  explain 
the  curse  of  Allatu  to  Uddushu-namir,  'the  threshold  be  thy 
dwelling,'  suggesting  that  in  Babylonia  it  was  the  abode  of 
dangerous  spirits  who  would  torment  him. 

But  even  against  such  door-dwelling  spirits 
charms  were  efficacious,  since  they  could  keep 
them  in  check. 

4.  Magic  rites  at  doors. — Many  magical  rites 
are  performed  at  the  door,  either  (1 )  to  transfer  evil 
to  those  who  enter  or  pass  out ;  or  (2)  to  secure  the 
assistance  of  the  spirits,  good  or  bad,  dwelling  or 
lurking  there  ;  or  (3)  simply  because  the  doorway  is 
a  sacred  place. 

For  examples  of  (1),  see  FL  xv.  [1904]  69  ;  Crooke,  PR  i.  164 ; 
Lane,  ii.  46  ;  Grimm,  1095  f.  ;  of  (2),  Jastrow,  268  ;  of  (3),  Trum- 
bull, 18,  20  ;  Theocritus,  Idyl.  ii.  63  ;  FL  xii.  [1901]  299  ;  Camp- 
bell, Witchcraft,  287. 

Other  magical  rites  take  place  there,  to  keep  off 
and  get  rid  of  ghosts  and  evil  spirits.  Of  this  class 
was  the  Roman  birth-rite,  in  which  three  men 
struck  the  thresholds  with  an  axe  and  a  pestle,  and 
swept  them  with  a  broom.  The  iron  axe  and  the 
pestle  tipped  with  iron  had  apotropseic  virtues  ; 
the  action  of  the  broom  was  perhaps  symbolic, 
though  all  three,  being  connected  with  vegetation 
and  agricultural  usages,  may  have  had  magical 
virtues,  and  are  charms  against  spirits  and  witches. 
In  this  case  they  were  supposed  to  keep  out  the 
god  Silvanus,  and  they  later  supplied  names  to  the 
three  protecting  spirits  —  Intercidona,  Pilumnus, 
and  Deverra  (Aug.  de  Civ.  Dei,  vi.  9).  Among 
the  Letts,  at  the  feast  of  souls,  the  ghosts  were  got 


DOOR 


851 


rid  of  by  taking  the  staff  which  served  as  a  poker, 
cutting  it  in  two  with  an  axe  on  the  threshold,  and 
bidding  them  go  (Frazer,  Adonis2,  1907,  p.  312). 
See  also  §  i. 

5.  Gate  as  seat  of  judgment. — On  account  of  the 
sacred  nature  of  the  gate,  the  seat  of  a  spirit  or 
god,  it  is  often  a  place  of  judgment,  especially  in 
the  East.  Kings,  chiefs,  and  judges  hear  com- 
plaints, try  causes,  and  decree  judgments  at  the 
gates  of  the  palace,  house,  or  city.  Examples  of 
this  are  found  in  ancient  Babylonia,  Persepolis, 
Egypt,  and  among  the  Hebrews  (Trumbull,  60  f.  ; 
Dn  2<9,  Ex  3226,  Dt  1618  2119,  Ru  41'-,  2  S  152 
198,  Pr  24' ;  cf.  Am  5",  Zee  816).  Probably  con- 
nected  with  this  custom  of  administering  justice  at 
the  gate  is  that  of  a  person  fasting  at  the  door  of 
another  against  whom  he  has  a  claim  or  proffers  a 
request.  In  cases  where  this  is  refused  the  claim- 
ant starves  to  death  at  the  door  ([Celts]  Anc.  Laws 
of  Ireland,  Dublin,  1869-70 ;  Joyce,  Soc.  Hist,  of 
Anc.  Ireland,  1903,  i.  204  f.  ;  [India]  Crooke,  PR 
i.  191-2). 

6.  The  door  and  death-rites. — In  many  regions 
it  is  not  customary  to  carry  a  dead  body,  especially 
that  of  a  suicide  or  criminal,  through  the  door  of  a 
house,  and  various  expedients  are  resorted  to  in 
order  to  avoid  this. 

Thus  the  body  is  taken  through  the  window  of  the  house,  or 
through  a  special  opening  made  in  roof  or  wall.  This  is  a  wide- 
spread custom,  found,  e.g.,  in  W.  and  S.  Africa,  Siam,  Indonesia, 
India,  China,  Tibet,  among  the  Ostiaksand  Eskimo,  in  Fiji,  with 
the  ancient  Norse,  and  as  a  folk  Burvival  in  Europe  (Scotland, 
Germany).  See  Liebrecht,  Zur  Volkskunde,  Heilbronn,  1S79,  p. 
373  ;  Frazer,  JAI  xv.  70  ;  Tylor,  ii.  26  f. ;  Westermarck,  MI  ii. 
637 ;  Ramseyer  and  Kuhne,  Four  Years  in  Ashantee,  1876,  p. 
50 ;  Dubois,  Hindu  Manners,  Oxford,  1897,  ii.  27 ;  Williams, 
Fiji,  I860,  i.  197  ;  Gregor,  Folklore  of  the  N.E.  of  Scotland, 
1881,  p.  206 ;  Wuttke,  Der  deut.  Volksaberglaube,  Berlin,  1900, 
§  766;  Lippert,  Die  Seelencult,  Berlin,  1881,  p.  11).  Or  the 
body  is  passed  through  an  opening  made  under  the  threshold 
(Hylten-Oavallius,  Warend  och  Wird. ,  Stockholm,  1863-8,  i.  473 
[Sweden] ;  Birlinger,  VolkMumliches  aus  Schwaben,  i.  [1861-62] 
321  [Swabia] ;  Grimm,  Deutsche  Rechtsalt.*,  Leipzig,  1899,  p. 
726  [Germany] ;  Ralston,  Russ.  Folk-tales,  1873,  p.  318  [Slavs]). 

The  usual  reason  assigned  for  these  practices  is 
that  they  are  used  to  confuse  the  ghost,  and  prevent 
its  finding  its  way  back  into  the  house  (Liebrecht, 
414;  Frazer,  JAI  xv.  [1886]  69  f.).  The  special 
aperture  is  afterwards  closed  up,  or  the  window  is 
kept  shut  after  the  burial  (it  is  often  opened  to  allow 
egress  to  the  soul  when  a  person  is  dying,  and 
again  closed  to  prevent  the  soul's  return) ;  or  often 
both  windows  and  doors  are  closed  when  a  funeral 
is  passing,  lest  the  soul  should  enter  the  house 
(Liebrecht,  372  f.  ;  FLJ  i.  218,  vi.  243 ;  Wuttke, 
§  250).  Or,  again,  when  the  body  is  taken  through 
a  hole  in  the  roof,  this  may  be  an  archaic  survival 
of  a  time  when  entrance  and  egress  were  obtained 
through  the  roof  of  the  hut,  as  among  the  Eskimo 
and  Aleuts  (Liebrecht,  372,  426).  Hence,  in  some 
cases,  one  supposed  dead  must  not,  when  he  re- 
turns, enter  by  the  door,  but  by  the  roof  (Plut. 
Qucest.  Rom.,  no.  5  ;  Brugsch,  Aus  dem  Orient, 
Berlin,  1864,  ii.  110  [Persians]).  Here  the  thought 
of  death  is  enough  to  suggest  its  contagion,  and 
entrance  must  not  be  first  made  by  the  sacred 
door.  But,  whatever  be  the  origin  of  the  customs 
referred  to,  they  are  certainly  connected  with  the 
sacredness  of  the  door,  which  must  not  be  polluted 
by  the  passage  of  the  dead  body.  If  it  were  merely 
the  return  of  the  ghost  which  was  feared,  that 
could  be  prevented  by  door  charms  (§  3),  and  it 
should  be  remembered  that  ghosts  at  the  yearly 
festivals  of  the  dead  are  invited  to  enter  by  the 
door  and  then  pass  out  by  it.  That  it  is  the  pollu- 
tion of  death  which  is  feared  for  the  sacred  doorway 
may  be  established  by  other  rites  of  mourning  and 
by  analogous  tabus. 

Thus  the  Banjara  of  Khandesh  move  the  hut,  and  make  a  new 
entrance  after  a  funeral,  as  the  door  has  been  polluted  by  the 
passage  of  the  corpse  (Crooke,  PR  ii.  66).  Propitiatory  rites 
are  in  some  cases  performed  at  the  door  when  a  corpse  has 
been   carried  out  by  it  (the  threshold  is  sprinkled  with  salt 


[Japan  :  Grims,  Mikado's  Empire,  New  York,  1876,  pp.  467,  470], 
or  with  wine  [Greece:  FLJ  i.  218]).  Among  the  Kwakmtl 
Indians,  mourners  must  not  use  the  house  door,  as  they  are 
unclean;  a  separate  door  is  cut  for  them  (Westermarck,  MI 
ii.  637);  and  in  China  a  messenger  who  brings  news  of  a  death 
should  not  pass  the  threshold  (de  Groot,  Rel.  System  of  China, 
1S94,  ii.  1.  644).  In  various  regions  a  special  door  or  gate  in 
house  or  city  wall  is  used  for  the  passage  of  a  corpse  and  for  no 
other  purpose  (Burma  [Sangermano,  Burm.  Empire,  1833,  p. 
143],  Korea  [Landor,  Corea,  1896,  p.  118],  Italy,  Holland 
[Trumbull,  24,  326] ;  cf.  the  *  sacred  gate '  at  Athens,  used  for 
funerals  [Theophr.  Char.  14]). 

Analogous  cases  are  those  in  which  women  at  puberty,  or  dur- 
ing menstruation  and  pregnancy  (tabu  states),  mu6t  not  leave  the 
hut  by  the  usual  door  without  special  rites ;  or,  again,  the  flesh 
of  animals  slain  in  hunting  is  carried  in  by  a  special  opening 
(ERE  ii.  643a  ;  Westermarck,  ii.  637  ;  Frazer,  ii.  415).  Perhaps 
connected  with  the  danger  of  female  pollution  is  the  superstition 
that  a  male,  not  a  female,  should  be  the  '  first-foot'  i.e.  the  first 
person  to  cross  the  threshold  at  New  Year ;  but  he  must  not 
come  empty-handed  (FLJ  iii.  282,  vii.  53  ;  Campbell,  Witch, 
craft,  229). 

7.  Doors  and  gates  of  the  Other-world.— The 
eschatological  beliefs  of  many  peoples  show  that  they 
consider  heaven  and  the  under  world  to  be  regions 
and  abodes  with  doors  or  gates,  bars  and  bolts,  and 
guardians.  The  doors  of  heaven  shut  out  those 
who  have  no  right  to  enter  there  ;  the  doors  of  the 
under  world  enclose  those  who  would  fain  leave  it. 

In  Bab.  writings,  reference  is  made  to  gates  of 
heaven,  especially  that  of  Anu,  guarded  by  Tam- 
muz  and  Gish-zida.  In  the  account  of  creation,  the 
great  gates  attached  to  both  sides  of  the  heavens  by 
Marduk  are  mentioned.  They  are  secured  by  bolts, 
and  guarded  by  scorpion  men.  Through  them  the 
sun  passes  at  morning  and  evening.  The  under 
world,  Arallu,  has  also  gates  and  bolts,  seven  or 
fourteen  in  number,  and  a  warder  stands  at  the 
outer  gate.  They  are  graphically  described  in  the 
Descent  of  Istar  (Jastrow,  301,  435,  523,  549,  569  ; 
Sayce,  79).  The  Egyptian  Other-world  was  plenti- 
fully supplied  with  gates.  Duat  or  Hades,  through 
which  the  boat  of  Ra  travelled  by  night,  had  twelve 
divisions  and  as  many  fortified  pylons  with  closed 
doors  and  serpent  guardians,  or  gates  with  other 
keepers.  The  gates  opened  at  the  repetition  of 
magic  formulae,  and  thus  entry  was  freely  obtained. 
Each  gate  had  its  own  name.  The  heaven  of 
Osiris  was  also  entered  by  a  gate  in  the  mountain 
of  the  West,  and  this  domain  in  the  fields  of  Aalu 
had  numerous  gates,  with  porters,  warders,  and 
heralds.  But  all  these  opened  to  those  who  knew 
the  true  formulae  and  names  of  gates  and  guardians 
(Maspero,  Etudes,  Paris,  1893,  i.  377,  381,  ii.  27  ff., 
165  ff.  ;  Budge,  Gods  of  the  Egyptians,  1903,  i.  170 ; 
Book  of  the  Dead,  ch.  147  ff'.).  The  classical  Hades 
and  Tartarus  had  also  their  gates,  those  of  Tartarus 
being  of  iron  with  a  bronze  threshold.  Cerberus 
guarded  the  gate  of  Hades,  a  hydra  with  50  gaping 
mouths  that  of  Tartarus  {U.  viii.  15  ;  Virgil,  JEn. 
vi.  576).  The  Scandinavian  Valhalla  had  540  gates, 
and  Hel  had  also  its  portals  (Grimm,  Teut.  Myth. 
818).  In  Mandaean  mythology,  the  seven  lower 
worlds  of  the  dark  powers  have  doors  which  can  be 
made  secure  by  magic  spells  and  talismans  (Brandt, 
Mand.  Schriften,  Gdttingen,  1893,  p.  147 ff'.).  The 
Hebrew  Sheol  had  gates  and  bars  (Job  1716  38", 
Ps  10718,  Is  3810,  cf.  Mt  1618).  It  had  divisions, 
and  in  later  belief  these  (of  hell)  were  7  in  number, 
with  as  many  doors  (Pr  7s7 ;  Gfrorer,  Das  Jahr- 
hundert  des  Heils,  Stuttgart,  1838,  ii.  45-6).  The 
'  gate  of  heaven '  is  already  spoken  of  in  Gn  28" 
(cf.  Ps  7823),  and  the  seven  heavens  of  later  Jewish 
theology  had  gates.  Serpent-like  guardians  of 
the  gates  of  hell  are  referred  to  in  the  Book  of  the 
Secrets  of  Enoch  421.  The  entrance  to  Eden  was 
guarded  by  cherubim  (Gn  324,  cf.  Enoch  423),  and 
the  two  gates  of  the  heavenly  paradise  were  of 
rubies  and  guarded  by  myriad  angels  (Gfrorer,  iL 
44).  These  ideas  are  found  in  early  Christian  the- 
ology. Hades  has  gates  of  brass,  bars  of  iron,  bolts, 
keys  (Rev  l18),  and  warders ;  but  they  are  burst 
open   by  Christ  as  He  descends  there  (Gospel   of 


85:! 


DOSADH,  DUSADH 


Nicodemus,  §  5,  and  many  other  writers  referring 
to  the  descent ;  ef .  Rev  Vs).  Paradise  is  often  de- 
scribed as  a  city  with  walls  and  gates  guarded  by 
angels  (e.g.  Passio  Perpetuos,  §  11).  The  analogy 
is  that  of  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  with  its  twelve 
gates  and  angel  guardians  (Rev  2112).  In  those 
documents  which  uphold  the  old  idea  of  several 
heavens,  each  has  its  gate  or  door  (Apoc.  of  Pawl, 
§  19  ff.  ;  Test,  of  Abraham,  §  11),  while  Ps  24"-  was 
frequently  applied  either  to  Christ's  bursting  the 
gates  of  Hades  or  to  His  ascension  through  the 
heavens,  e.g.  by  Hippolytus,  who  speaks  of  Christ 
passing  through  the  heavenly  gates  (Hippol.  in 
Theod.  Dial.  1  ;  Comm.  on  Prov.  [Mai,  Biol,  nova 
Patrum,  Rome,  1854,  ii.  72] ;  cf .  also  Rev  41  '  a 
door  was  opened  in  heaven ').  Those  Gnostic  groups 
which  taught  the  existence  of  seven  or  more  heaven- 
spheres  ruled  by  the  Demiurge  and  Archons, 
assigned  to  these  heavens  doors  guarded  carefully. 
This  is  found,  e.g.,  among  various  Ophite  groups 
and  the  followers  of  Bardesanes.  The  gates  were 
themselves  dangerous  in  some  cases — '  a  fiery  gate- 
way ' — and  the  Archons  or  door-keepers  would  have 
kept  them  closed  against  souls  ascending  to  the 
Pleroma.  But  the  Gnosis,  initiation  into  sacra- 
ments and  mysteries,  possession  of  the  names  of 
the  Archons  and  of  the  true  magic  formulas,  or  of 
symbols  and  amulets,  caused  the  doors  to  be  opened 
(see  Hippol.  v.  8.  9,  26  ;  Wright,  Apoc.  Acts, 
1871,  ii.  26  ;  Origen,  c.  Cels.  vi.  31  ;  Pistis  Sophia, 
bk.  i.  §  20  f . ).  These  ideas  of  the  magical  opening 
of  the  gates  are  derived  from  Egyptian  beliefs, 
and  also,  perhaps,  from  Mithraic  teachings  of  the 
ascent  of  the  soul  through  the  planetary  heavens 
with  their  gates  (Origen,  vi.  22).  Mystico-magical 
cults  having  affinity  to  Mithraism  knew  also  of  the 
fiery  gates  of  the  upper  spheres,  which  opened  at 
the  utterance  of  the  names  of  the  gods  (Wessely, 
'  Griech.  Zauberpapyrus,'  Denk.  d.  Kais.  Ah.  d. 
Wiss.  zu  Wien,  xxxvi.  [1888]  56 ff.). 

8.  The  door  being  regarded  as  a  means  of  passage 
from  one  state  to  another,  it  was  easy  to  apply  the 
word  in  a  metaphorical  sense.  Christ  speaks  of 
Himself  as  the  'door.'  'By  me  if  any  man  enter 
in,  he  shall  be  saved '  (Jn  10°,  cf.  Eph  218).  This 
idea  is  repeated  in  Christian  theology.  Ignatius 
calls  Christ  '  the  door  of  the  Father  by  which 
Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  all  the  prophets 
enter  in,  as  well  as  the  apostles  and  the  Church ' 
(ad  Philad.  ix.).  In  Hernias  the  gate  of  the  tower 
is  the  Son  of  God  {Sim.  ix.  12) ;  and  in  the  Clemen- 
tine Recognitions  (ii.  22)  the  gate  through  which 
men  enter  the  city,  the  kingdom  of  the  Father,  is 
'  the  true  Prophet.'  The  same  ideas  were  current 
in  Gnosticism.  The  heavenly  Christ  is  the  true 
gate,  through  which  the  Gnostic  ascends  to  the  Ple- 
roma (Hippol.  v.  8,  9).  In  the  hymn  used  by  the 
Priscillianists,  but  which  was  Gnostic  in  origin, 
Christ  says :  '  Janua  sum  tibi,  quicunque  me 
pulsas '  (Aug.  Ep.  ccxxxvii.  §  8).  Among  the  Babls 
the  name  Bab,  assumed  by  the  first  preacher  of 
this  new  religion  in  1844,  means  'gate,'  and  was 
formerly  the  title  given  to  those  intermediaries 
through  whom,  as  through  a  gate,  communication 
was  made  by  the  Imam  to  his  followers  (see  art. 
Bab,  Babis). 

Literature. — A.  van  Gennep,  Les  Rites  de  passage,  Paria, 
1909;  H.  C.  Trumbull,  The  Threshold  Covenant,  New  York, 
1906  ;  and  the  authorities  cited  in  the  article. 

J.  A.  MacCulloch. 

DOSADH,  DUSADH.— A  menial  tribe  in 
Northern  India,  of  Dravidian  origin,  which  at  the 
Census  of  1901  numbered  1,258,125,  of  whom  the 
vast  majority  are  found  in  Bengal  and  the  United 
Provinces. 

I.  Religion  in  Bengal. — In  Bengal  they  profess 
to  be  orthodox  Hindus,  and  it  is  true  that  in  some 
districts  they  employ  in  their  religious  rites  Brah- 


mans  of  a  degraded  class,  while  some  belong  to  the 
Srlnarayani  sect,  or  follow  the  doctrines  (panth)  of 
Kabir,  Tulsi  Das,  Gorakhnath,  or  Nanak  (for 
which  see  BENGAL).  These  beliefs,  however,  seem 
to  be  of  comparatively  recent  origin,  and  the  basis 
of  their  religion  is  Animism. 

(a)  Worship  of  Rahu. — Their  tribal  deity  is 
Rahu,  '  the  seizer,'  who  seems  to  have  been  adopted 
from  the  pre- Aryan  races,  and  to  have  been  trans- 
formed by  the  Hindus  into  a  Daitya  or  Titan,  who 
is  supposed  to  cause  eclipses  by  swallowing  the  sun 
and  moon.  The  Dosadhs,  in  order  to  avert  disease 
and  in  fulfilment  of  vows,  offer  to  him  annual  sacri- 
fices and  the  fruits  of  the  earth  through  a  tribes- 
man who  is  known  as  Bhakat  or  Chatiya. 

'  On  special  occasions  a  stranger  form  of  worship  is  resorted 
to,  parallels  to  which  may  be  found  in  the  rustic  cult  of  the 
Roman  villagers  and  the  votaries  of  the  Phoenician  deities.  A 
ladder,  made  with  sides  of  green  bamboos  and  rungs  of  sword- 
blades,  is  raised  in  the  midst  of  a  pile  of  burning  mango  wood, 
through  which  the  Bhakat  walks  barefooted  and  ascends  the 
ladder  without  injury.  Swine  of  all  ages,  a  ram,  wheaten  flour, 
and  rice-milk  are  offered  up  ;  after  which  the  worshippers  par- 
take of  a  feast  and  drink  enormous  quantities  of  ardent  spirits ' 
(Eisley,  i.  255). 

In  another  form  of  this  rite,  the  man  who  has 
vowed  to  offer  a  fire  sacrifice  to  Rahu  must  build 
within  the  day  a  thatched  hut,  in  which  the 
Bhakat  or  priest,  himself  a  Dosadh,  must  spend  the 
night,  sleeping  on  the  sacred  kwia  grass  with 
which  the  floor  is  strewed.  In  front  of  the  hut  a 
bamboo  platform  is  erected,  and  beyond  that  a 
trench  is  dug,  which  on  the  feast  day  is  filled  with 
mango  wood  soaked  in  butter,  while  two  earthen 
vessels  of  milk  are  placed  close  to  the  platform. 
The  Bhakat  bathes  and  dons  a  new  cloth  dyed  with 
turmeric.  He  mutters  a  number  of  mystic  formulae 
(mantra),  and  worships  Rahu  on  both  sides  of  the 
trench.  The  fire  is  then  kindled,  and  the  Bhakat 
solemnly  walks  three  times  round  it  in  the  course 
of  the  sun,  keeping  his  right  hand  always  towards 
it.  The  end  of  the  third  round  brings  him  to  the 
east  end  of  the  trench,  where  he  takes  by  the  hand 
a  Brahman  retained  for  this  purpose  with  a  fee  of 
two  new  wrappers,  and  calls  on  him  to  lead  the 
way  through  the  fire.  The  Brahman  walks  along 
the  trench  from  east  to  west  followed  by  the 
Bhakat.  Both  are  supposed  to  tread  with  their 
bare  feet  on  the  fire  and  to  escape  unharmed. 
Risley  supposes  that  this  is  the  result  of  optical 
illusion,  because  by  the  time  they  start  the  flames 
have  subsided  and  the  trench  is  so  narrow  that  an 
active  man  may  walk  along  it  resting  his  feet  on 
either  edge,  without  touching  the  smouldering 
ashes  at  the  bottom.  Meanwhile  the  milk  has 
been  boiled,  and  it  appears  that  in  some  cases  the 
Bhakat  pours  the  boiling  liquid  over  his  body, 
being,  it  is  said,  uninjured. 

'  By  passing  through  the  fire  the  Bhakat  is  believed  to  have 
been  inspired  with  the  spirit  of  Rahu,  who  has  become  incarnated 
in  him.  Filled  with  the  divine  or  demoniac  afflatus,  and  also, 
it  may  be  surmised,  excited  by  drink  and  gdnjd  [hemp],  he 
mounts  the  bamboo  platform,  chants  mystic  hymns,  and  dis- 
tributes to  the  crowd  tulsi  [basil]  leaves,  which  heal  diseases 
otherwise  incurable,  and  flowers  which  have  the  virtue  of 
causing  barren  women  to  conceive.  The  proceedings  end  with 
a  feast,  and  religious  excitement  soon  passes  into  drunken 
revelry  lasting  long  into  the  night '  (Risley,  i.  255  f.). 

The  ritual  is  a  good  illustration  of  Dravidian 
shamanism.  Accounts  of  fire- walking  among  the 
S.  Indian  Dravidians  will  be  found  in  Thurston 
(Ethnographic  Notes  in  S.  India,  Madras,  1906,  p. 
471  ff.).  Frazer  (Adonis,  Attis,  Osiris2,  London, 
1907,  pp.  88,  136  f.)  regards  it  as  a  commutation  of 
an  original  human  sacrifice  by  means  of  fire. 

(b)  Worship  of  deified  robbers. — The  Bengal 
Dosadhs  worship  a  host  of  deified  heroes,  in  honour 
of  whom  huts  are  erected  in  various  parts  of  the 
country.  Many  of  these  are  the  ghosts  of  bandit 
chiefs,  such  as  Goraiya,  Salhes,  Chuhar,  or  Choar 
Mai,  and  others.  In  none  of  these  shrines  are 
there    any  idols,   and   the  officiating  priests   are 


DOUBLES 


863 


always  drawn  from  the  Dosadh  tribe,  who  minister 
to  the  Sudra  or  menial  castes  which  frequent 
them.  The  offerings  usually  are  appropriated  by 
the  priest  or  by  the  head  of  the  Dosadh  household 
performing  the  worship ;  but,  where  this  worship 
has  adopted  some  of  the  principles  of  Islam,  the 
fowls  sacrificed  to  the  Saint  Miran  and  the 
Pafich  Pir  (see  PanchpIriya)  are  given  to  local 
Muhammadans. 

2.  Religion  in  the  United  Provinces. — Here  also 
the  cult  of  Rahu  prevails,  and  it  is  carried  out  in  a 
manner  much  resembling  that  of  Bengal.  In  one 
form  of  the  rite  the  priest  climbs  the  rungs  of 
sword-blades  with  his  naked  feet,  pours  some  milk 
on  the  ground  in  honour  of  Rahu,  sacrifices  a  cock 
tied  to  the  summit  of  the  ladder,  or,  descending, 
slays  a  young  pig  with  repeated  blows  of  a  spear. 
Some  spirits  are  poured  on  the  ground,  and  the 
meat  and  the  remainder  of  the  offerings  are  con- 
sumed there  and  then  by  the  worshippers  (Crooke, 
Pop.  Bel.2,  1896,  i.  18  ff.,  Tribes  and  Castes  of  the 
North-Western  Provinces  and  Oudh,  ii.  355,  where 
one  of  the  songs  in  honour  of  Rahu  will  be  found). 

They  also  worship  Chhath  or  Chhathi,  the  im- 
personated sixth  day  after  birth,  when,  owing  to 
lack  of  sanitary  precautions  at  childbirth,  the  child 
is  likely  to  be  attacked  by  infantile  lockjaw.  On 
the  day  before  the  feast  the  worshippers  purify 
themselves  with  fasting,  and  go  singing  to  the 
river  side.  Here  they  strip  and  walk  into  the 
water,  remaining  facing  the  east  till  the  sun  rises, 
when  they  stand  with  folded  hands  and  bow  in 
reverence,  making  offerings  of  cakes  and  other 
kinds  of  food,  which  are  consumed  by  the  worship- 
per and  his  friends.  Their  other  tribal  deities  are 
Bandl,  a  female,  and  Manukh  Deva,  the  deified 
ghost  of  some  tribal  worthy,  who  are  propitiated 
by  the  sacrifice  of  a  pig  or  fowl  and  an  oblation  of 
spirits.  Seven  cups  of  milk  and  seven  pairs  of 
cakes  are  also  offered  round  the  earthen  mound 
which  is  the  common  abiding  place  of  the  tribal 
gods.  They  observe  most  of  the  Hindu  holidays, 
particularly  those  like  the  Holl  spring  fire  feast, 
and  the  Kajari  of  the  autumn  season,  which  are  the 
occasion  of  coarse  orgies  accompanied  by  drinking 
and  sensuality. 

Literature. — H.  H.  Risley,  Tribes  and  Castes  of  Bengal, 
Calcutta,  1891,  i.  252  ff. ;  W.  Crooke,  Tribes  and  Castes  of  the 
N.W.  Prov.  and  Oudh,  do.  1896,  ii.  3463. ;  E.  A.  Gait,  Census 
Report  Bengal,  1901,  i.  App.  vi.  p.  xlix ;  N.  Ind.  Notes  and 
Queries,i\.  15,  31f.,  Ill,  207  f.,  v.  204;  F.  Buchanan,  in  M. 
Martin,  Eastern  India,  1838,  i.  192  ;  J.  Wise,  Races,  Castes, 
and  Trades  of  Eastern  Bengal,  1883,  p.  268  fl.  ;  E.  T.  Dalton, 
Descriptive  Ethnology  of  Bengal,  Calcutta,  1872,  p.  326. 

W.  Crooke. 

DOUBLES.— The  beliefs  to  which  the  term 
'  double '  refers  may  be  traced  back  to  two  psycho- 
logical sources.  In  the  first  place,  they  may  result 
from  elementary  speculation  on  the  category  of 
duplication  ;  in  the  second  place,  the  phenomena 
on  which  the  notion  of  the  divisibility  or  duality 
of  personality  is  based  are  such  that  a  potentially 
duplicate  existence  was  inevitably  ascribed  to 
every  concrete  object  of  thought.  The  two  sources 
constantly  mingle.  The  main  characteristic  of  the 
former  is  that  a  double  or  counterpart  arises  by 
multiplication  ;  of  the  latter,  that  it  arises  by- 
division.  A  secondary  characteristic  is  that  in 
the  latter  the  counterpart  tends  to  be  of  a  different 
substance,  though  of  the  same  accidents — the  so- 
called  '  spiritual  double.'  Again,  the  connected 
categories  of  duality,  substitution,  representation, 
impersonation,  and  so  forth,  combine  with  such 
results  of  the  category  of  duplication  as  identity, 
original  and  copy,  idea  and  reality,  to  complicate 
the  general  conception  of  doubleness  in  pre- 
scientific  speculation  ;  and  the  whole  combination 
binds  together  a  number  of  customs,  some  of  which 
are  apparently  widely  dissimilar  in  origin,  though 


all,  psychologically  speaking,  are  based  on  the 
mathematical  ideas  of  multiplication  and  division. 
We  shall  refer  to  these  subsidiary  forms  of  the 
notion  only  for  the  purpose  of  illustrating  what  is 
sociologically  the  main  connotation  of  the  term, 
namely,  the  double  in  the  sense  of  Doppelgdnger, 
second  self,  visible  or  invisible  counterpart, 
spiritual  or  material  double. 

I.  Duplication  in  general. — It  is  not  surprising 
that  in  early  thought  two  became  a  sacred  number, 
when  we  consider  the  mystery  so  often  connected 
with  duplication.  Conversely,  in  the  creation  of 
certain  abnormal  mythical  beings,  the  mind  fre- 
quently unifies  a  natural  duality,  as  in  the  one  eye 
of  the  Cyclopes,  and  the  combination  of  horse  and 
rider  in  the  Centaurs,  and,  most  notably,  in 
androgynous  ancestors  and  deities.  Duplicity  in 
nature  is  still  enough  of  an  abnormality  to  warrant 
its  inclusion  in  the  list  of  magical  or  sacred  centres 
of  mystery. 

Thus,  in  Samoa  all  double  things  were  sacred. 
Among  the  native  deities  were  two  household  gods, 
represented  as  '  Siamese  Twins,'  Taema  and  Titi. 
They  appear  to  have  been  regarded  as  a  sort  of  gods 
of  doubleness.1  Similar  ideas  were  connected  in 
Roman  religion  with  the  deity  Janus,  and  in 
Greek  with  the  Dioscuri.  The  images  of  many 
Mexican  idols  had  double  faces,  back  and  front, 
like  the  Roman  Janus  bifrons. 

'  The  reason,'  E.  J.  Payne  observes,  '  why  the  features  were 
duplicated  is  obvious.  The  figure  was  carried  in  the  midst  of  a 
large  crowd  ;  the  duplicate  at  the  back  was  for  the  benefit  of 
those  who  followed.  Probably  it  was  considered  to  be  an  evil 
omen  if  the  idol  turned  its  face  away  from  its  worshippers ; 
this  the  duplicate  obviated.  .  .  .  This  duplication  of  the  fea- 
tures, a  characteristic  of  the  very  oldest  gods,  appears  to  be 
indicated  when  the  numeral  ome  (  =  two)  is  prefixed  to  the  title 
of  the  deity.  Thus  the  two  ancestors  and  preservers  of  the  race 
were  called  Ometecuhtli  and  Omecihuatl  (  =  two  -chief,  two- 
woman).'  2 

A  close  connexion  is  constantly  maintained  be- 
tween diet  and  conception  or  the  nature  of  the 
offspring.  A  frequent  belief  is  that  if  a  woman 
eats  anything  double — a  double  cherry  or  a  double 
banana,  for  example — her  child  will  be  double.3 

Twins  themselves  are  a  striking  example  of  the 
mystery  attached  to  double  objects.  See,  further, 
art.  Twins. 

Various  miscellaneous  applications  of  the  double 
idea  may  be  grouped  together  here.  The  law  of 
equivalence,  as  illustrated  by  the  lex  talionis,  is 
often  superseded  by  the  enforcement  of  a  double 
penalty.  Among  the  Bedawin  the  family  of  a 
slain  man  may  slay  two  of  the  murderer's  family. 
In  this  case  the  feud  continues.  If  they  slay  but 
one,  it  is  ended.4  The  Hebrews  condemned  a  thief 
taken  flagrante  delicto  to  restore  double.6  Hence 
the  moral  principle  of  receiving  double  as  a  form 
of  pardon. 

'  The  Lord  gave  Job  twice  as  much  as  he  had  before.'  '  For 
your  shame  ye  shall  have  double  ...  in  their  land  they  shall 
possess  double:  everlasting  joy  shall  be  unto  them.'  'Sht 
hath  received  of  the  Lord's  band  double  for  all  her  sins.'  '  Evei. 
to-day  do  I  declare  that  I  will  render  double  unto  thee.'" 
Similarly  in  moral  retribution  :  'Render  unto  her  even  as  shv. 
rendered,  and  double  unto  her  the  double  according  to  hei 
works  :  in  the  cup  which  she  mingled,  mingle  unto  nek- 
double.'? 

A  double  share  may  be  either  an  honour  or  a 
security.  '  Elisha  said,  I  pray  thee,  let  a  double 
portion  of  thy  spirit  be  upon  me.'  8  The  idea  of 
corroboration  ana  finality  belongs  to  repetition. 

'  The  dream  of  Pharaoh,'  Joseph  says,  '  is  one  :  what  God  is 
about  to  do  he  hath  declared  unto  Pharaoh.  The  seven  good 
kine  are  seven  years  ;  and  the  seven  good  ears  are  seven  years  ; 
the  dream  is  one.  .  .  .  For  that  the  dream  was  doubled  unto 
Pharaoh  twice,  it  is  because  the  thing  is  established  by  God, 
and  God  will  shortly  bring  it  to  pass.' a 


1  G.  Turner,  Samoa,  London,  18S4,  p.  56. 

2  Hist,  of  America,  Oxford,  1892-99,  i.  424. 

3  J.  Gamier,  Ocianie,  Paris,  1871,  p.  187. 

4  Burckhardt,  Bedouins  and  Wahabys,  London,  1830,  p.  86. 

5  Ex  221- '.  «  Job  4210,  Is  617,  402,  Zee  912. 

7  Rev  186.  8  2  K  29.  »  Gn  4125-36 


854 


DOUBLES 


A  similar  principle  is  reached  from  a  different 
origin  in  such  beliefs  as  that  an  echo  is  a  con- 
firmation. 

Miracles  and  magic  acts  of  duplication  and 
multiplication  have  a  psychological  interest  in 
connexion  with  the  development  of  the  meta- 
physical theory  of  creation  and  the  mechanical  or 
biological  theory  of  evolution  (see  below).  Such 
bits  of  folklore  as  the  notion  that  turning  one's 
money  when  one  sees  the  new  moon  causes  it  to 
increase  have  a  significance  in  both  respects. 
The  influence  of  the  waxing  moon  has  been  well 
illustrated.1  As  the  moon  grows,  the  money  will 
grow.  No  doubt,  the  act  of  turning  the  money  is 
also  a  piece  of  imitative  magic.  Turning  an  object 
shows  its  reverse  side,  its  double  face,  and  is 
equivalent  to  a  duplication  of  it.  On  a  similar 
elementary  fallacy  perhaps  depends  the  actual 
point  of  miracles  of  multiplication  (which  in  the 
Christian  examples  lies  in  the  handling  or  the 
breaking  of  the  food).  It  may  consist,  that  is,  in  an 
application  of  a  vague  theory  of  homoeomeria  (see 
below,  p.  857b),  according  to  which  each  particle 
of  a  substance  or  thing  is  a  miniature  duplicate  of 
the  whole.  Breaking  bread  would  thus  produce  a 
multitude  of  microscopic  loaves ;  their  manipula- 
tion in  the  hands  is  sufficient  to  institute  growth 
by  apposition  (analogous  in  principle  to  the  pro- 
duction of  separate  pieces  of  money  by  turning 
them),  especially  if  the  hands  are  instinct  with 
inana.  The  case  of  natural  objects  is  identical, 
for  to  the  pre-scientific  mind  there  is  no  essential 
difference  between  the  artificial  growth  of  a  manu- 
factured article  and  the  natural  growth  of  an 
organism. 

There  is  a  fairly  large  class  of  customs  in  which 
the  chief  performer — as  a  rule  a  sacred  person  or  a 
person  engaged  for  the  time  being  in  a  sacred 
function — is  attended,  or  represented,  or  imper- 
sonated, by  one  or  more  persons  who  are  his 
duplicates  in  appearance  or  action.  The  prin- 
ciple may  be  either  sympathy  or  the  impulse  of 
imitation — '  Never  alone  did  the  king  sigh,  but 
with  a  general  groan '  (Shakespeare,  Hamlet,  III. 
iii.  23) — or  delegation  for  reasons  of  safety  or 
convenience. 

In  European  folk-custom,  particularly  in  Ger- 
many, it  is  frequently  the  rule  for  bride  or  bride- 
groom to  be  attended  by  one  or  more  persons 
dressed  in  the  same  attire.  At  Egyptian  weddings 
the  bridegroom  walks  between  two  friends  dressed 
precisely  as  he  is.2  In  Abyssinia  a  bride  is  ac- 
companied by  her  sister  ;  both  are  dressed  alike, 
and  their  horses  are  also  caparisoned  alike.3 

In  such  cases,  and  in  others  which  follow,  the 
motives  originally  prompting  the  custom  were  no 
doubt  mixed.  Sympathy  and  fellow-feeling  may 
be  combined  with  the  idea  of  safety  in  duplication 
or  in  numbers  generally.  Duplication  is  a  form  of 
concealment  and  security.  It  is  commonly  em- 
ployed for  the  protection  of  a  palladium,  as  the 
sacred  ancile  by  the  ancient  Romans,  who  kept  it 
among  a  set  of  duplicates,  on  the  same  principle  as 
a  valuable  jewel  is  protected  by  a  worthless  copy. 
It  is  possible  that  customs  like  the  following  of  the 
Kaffirs  have  a  similar  underlying  meaning. 

A  Kaffir  king  employed  'a  sort  of  valets,'  who  wore  his  cast-off 
clothes.  When  he  was  sick,  they  were  wounded  in  order  that  a 
portion  of  their  blood  might  be  introduced  into  his  system. 
They  were  killed  at  his  death.4  The  motive  is  explicit  in  the 
Abyssinian  custom.  The  king  has  four  officers,  called  lika 
mankua,  '  who  have  to  clothe  themselves  exactly  like  the  king,' 
so  that  the  enemy  may  not  be  able  to  distinguish  him.  '  It  is 
an  honourable  and  dangerous  post,'  and  was  once  rilled  by  an 
Englishman,  Mr.  Bell.  5    On  the  Gold  Coast  an  important  person 

1  Frazer,  GW,  1900,  ii.  156  ft. 

3  E.  W.  Lane,  Modern  Egyptians,  London,  1836,  i.  212. 
s  W.  0.  Harris,  Highlands  of  Ethiopia,  London,  1S44,  ii.  225. 
*  J.  Shooter,  Kafirs  of  Natal,  London,  1857,  p.  117. 
6  J.  L.  Erapf,  Travels,  etc.,  in  Eastern  Africa,  London,  1860, 
p.  454. 


bought  a  slave  of  his  or  her  own  sex,  termed  craboah  or  ocrah. 
This  slave  was  looked  upon  '  as  the  soul  or  spirit,  alter  ego,  o! 
the  master  or  mistress.' * 

Thus  service,  substitution,  disguise,  and  '  other-selfhood  ' 
Bhade  into  each  other. 

Many  cases  of  mock  kings  may  be  resolved  into 
duplication  by  way  of  disguise  or  impersonation. 
In  Siam  and  Cambodia  the  king's  temporary 
representative  impersonates  him  in  function,  per- 
forming his  magical  duties.2  The  'king'  of  the 
Babylonian  festival  Sacaea  was  dressed  in  the 
king's  robes.3  In  the  evolution  of  the  monarchy 
a  frequent  stage  is  the  division  of  the  office  into 
temporal  and  sacred.  But  such  duplication  of  the 
king  may  arise  in  various  ways.  When  actual 
substitution  is  practised  in  sacrifice,  the  vicarious 
sufferer  tends  to  become  a  spiritual  double  or 
unreal  phantom.  A  case  in  point  is  the  belief 
found  in  early  Christian  speculation  that  a  phan- 
tom of  Jesus  was  crucified  in  place  of  Jesus  Himself. 
Impersonation  is  frequently  found  in  funeral  cus- 
toms. Thus,  among  the  Eskimo  the  first  child 
born  after  a  death  bears  the  dead  man's  name, 
and  has  to  represent  him  at  festivals.  To  these 
'  namesakes '  of  the  dead,  offerings  of  food  and 
drink  and  clothes  are  made.  They  eat  and  drink 
and  wear  the  clothes  'on  behalf  of  the  ghosts.'4 
A  case  which  may  be  compared  with  the  Kaffir  and 
Abyssinian  royal  customs  is  from  Fiji. 

A  certain  clan  has  the  duty  of  supplying  the  king  with  a 
6pecial  sort  of  attendants,  who  nurse  him  when  he  is  iil  and  bury 
him  when  he  dies.  In  particular,  they  conceal  his  death  ;  in  one 
locality  the  head  attendant '  personates  the  dead  chief,  and  issues 
his  orders  from  within  the  mosquito  curtain  of  native  cloth,  in 
the  faint  querulous  tones  of  a  sick  man.' 5 

The  art  of  the  actor  is  essentially  representation. 
He  is  a  duplicate  of  the  character,  its  '  person.' 
Similarly,  his  understudy  or  substitute  is,  both 
in  English  and  French  terminology,  a  '  double.' 
Lastly,  the  ideas  of  friendship  approximate  the 
friend  to  the  status  of  the  material  duplicate. 
'  Fellow '  is  a  word  used  in  this  connexion  with  a 
distinct  reference  to  its  meaning  of  a  replica.  A 
similar  play  of  thought  is  seen  in  the  word  '  pair.' 
A  friend  is,  in  the  commonplaces  of  literature,  a 
second  self,  an  alter  ego.  Duplication  by  division 
is  applied  here  also ;  the  pair  being  the  unit,  one 
or  other  of  them  is  the  'half  ;  just  as  on  the 
other  principle  he  is  the  '  double. ' 

The  impersonation  of  a  man  by  a  '  spiritual ' 
being  cannot  always  be  distinguished  from  the 
appearance  of  a  man's  ghost  or  wraith.  But  there 
are  clear  cases — chiefly  in  connexion  with  the 
supernatural  impregnation  of  a  wife — where  a 
man's  double  is  a  '  spiritual '  impostor. 

In  the  Dutch  East  Indies  it  is  commonly  believed  that  male 
and  female  evil  spirits,  nita,  can  assume  the  form  and  person- 
ality of  lovers  and  friends.  A  man  or  woman  keeping  an 
assignation  in  the  forest  is  liable  to  be  duped  in  this  way.  A 
person  who  has  intercourse  with  a  nita  dies  in  a  few  days.  The 
nita  is  supposed  to  take  away  the  soul.  In  some  islands  an 
ancestral  spirit,  named  Boitai,  is  the  bogey  of  women  working 
in  the  forest.  He  assumes  the  form  and  appearance  of  their 
husbands.  The  occurrence  is  proved  later  when  the  victim 
Buffers  from  haemorrhage.  The  practice  is  followed  even  by 
human  magic-workers.  The  Babar  Islanders  believe  that  a  male 
suwanggi  is  able  to  take  the  shape  of  a  young  woman's  husband 
and  cause  her  to  conceive.^ 

When  the  double,  either  visible  or  invisible,  does 
not  impersonate,  but  attends  as  a  helper  or  enemy, 
it  is  not  clear  whether  this  can  be  traced  back  to 
beliefs  about  the  soul;  Primitive  psychology  suc- 
ceeded thoroughly  in  dividing  human  personality 
into  two  more  or  less  identical  duplicates,  and 
there  are  many  cases  where  the  derivation  of  the 
guardian  angel  from  the  separable  soul  is  explicit. 
Of  course,  when  developed,  the  two  notions  easily 
pass  into  one  another,  and  the  soul  itself  is  con- 

1  T.  J.  Hutchinson,  in  Trans.  Ethnol.  Soc,  new  ser.,  i.  (1861) 
333 

s'Frazer,  GBV  ii.  31.  »  lb.  24. 

4  E.  W.  Nelson,  18  RBEW  (1899),  p.  363  f. 

6  L.  Fison,  in  JAI  x.  (1881)  140. 

«  Riedel,  Sluik-  en  kroeshar.  rassen,  1886,  pp.  57,  262,  340. 


DOUBLES 


855 


stantly  regarded  as  a  protecting  spirit.  The  illus- 
tration of  this  belongs  to  another  inquiry,  but  a 
typical  case  may  be  cited,  where  the  guardian  is 
actually  the  double.  In  Upper  Egypt  it  is  believed 
that  with  every  child  there  is  born  a  jinn  com- 
panion, which  acts  as  a  guardian  angel,  but  some- 
times evilly  entreats  its  possessor.  It  is  termed 
karina,  and  is  exactly  like  the  person  it  attends.1 

In  some  cases  a  spiritual  entity  passing  into 
another  form  leaves  behind  it,  automatically,  a 
double  of  itself.  It  is  as  if  a  man,  when  leaving  a 
place,  automatically  left  a  duplicate  in  his  stead. 
The  example  which  follows  comprises  this  naive 
instinct  for  having  one's  cake  as  well  as  eating  it, 
together  with  other  ideas.  In  Central  Australia, 
'when  a  spirit  individual  goes  into  a  woman  '  (who 
thereby  conceives),  '  there  still  remains  the  Arum- 
buringa,  which  may  be  regarded  as  its  double.' 
Spencer-Gillen  also  speak  of  this  as  the  double  of 
the  person  himself,  and  as  his  guardian  spirit.2 

A  man  may  be  regarded  as  a  dual  person  be- 
cause he  is  attended  by  an  invisible  protector. 
Such  a  conception  is  implicit  in  the  European 
folk-belief  about  the  guardian  angel.  This  belief 
is  extremely  vague  in  its  form,  but  it  shows  a 
tendency  to  regard  the  angel  as  a  double  of  the 
person,  his  eternal  counterpart,  which  after  his 
death  is,  like  even  the  Australian  Arumburinga, 
'  changeless  and  lives  for  ever. ' s  The  following 
example  is  a  case  of  duplication  by  apposition, 
distinct  in  origin  from  other  forms.  The  Japanese 
pilgrim  to  the  Thirty-three  Holy  Places,  or  to  the 
Eighty-eight  Holy  Places  of  Shikoku,  wears  a 
special  hat  with  this  inscription — '  Two  pilgrims 
travelling  in  company  to  such  and  such  a  shrine.' 
This  reference  to  two  persons  is  explained  by  the 
idea  that  the  pilgrim  is  not  alone,  but  is  accom- 
panied by  the  great  saint  Kobo  Daishi,  or  the 
Goddess  of  Mercy,  who 

'travels  with  him  along  the  stony  path,  supporting  his  foot- 
steps, encouraging;  his  religious  fervour,  guarding  him  from  evil 
all  along  the  way.  Therefore  not  one  only  but  two  walk  under 
that  broad-brimmed  hat  on  the  road  to  Paradise.'  4 
Similar  ideas  of  the  invisible  Divine  helper  are 
found  in  most  of  the  organized  religions ;  and, 
where  it  is  part  of  the  general  teaching  that  the 
worshipper  may  become  a  sort  of  incarnation  of  the 
god  by  following  in  his  footsteps,  we  have  an  in- 
teresting case  of  duplication  in  the  form  of  the 
individual  as  microcosm  and  the  god  as  macrocosm, 
the  latter  being  indefinitely  multipliable  or  in- 
definitely ubiquitous. 

Thaumaturgic  persons  are  sometimes  credited 
with  a  similar  ubiquity  or  power  of  self-multipli- 
cation. There  need  be  no  implication  that  the 
duplicate  in  such  cases  is  a  spiritual  replica,  or  an 
entity  of  different  substance.  It  is  simple  multi- 
plication, without  any  question  of  the  method  or 
the  vehicle.  The  ordinary  limitations  of  ordinary 
humanity  are  merely  suspended.  The  legends  of 
many  Christian  saints  refer  to  this  power  of  being  in 
two  places  at  once — bilocation.  Thus,  it  is  recorded 
of  St.  Alfonso  di  Liguori,  that 

'  a  person  going  to  confession  at  the  house  where  Alphonsus  lived 
found  him  there  at  the  very  time  for  beginning  the  sermon  in 
the  church.  After  he  had  finished  his  confession,  he  went 
straight  to  the  church,  and  found  Alphonsus  a  good  way  ad- 
vanced in  his  sermon.' 5 

2.  The  spiritual  double. — The  special  meaning 
of  the  term  'double,'  as  the  so-called  'spiritual 
double,'  is  the  'wraith'  or  visible  counterpart  of 
the  person,  seen  just  before  or  just  after,  or  at  the 
moment  of,  his  death.  This  belief  is  derived 
directly  from  the  theory  of  the  soul.  Hallucina- 
tion corroborates  it.  Few  phenomena  seem  to  be 
better  attested  than  the  subjective  perception  of  a 

1  C.  B.  Klunzinger,  Upper  Egypt,  London,  1S78,  p.  383. 

-  Spencer-Gillen",  p.  514.  3  lb.  516. 

*  B.  H.  Chamberlain,  in  JA1  xxii.  (1S93)  361. 

5  J.  Gardner,  Faiths  of  the  World,  Edinburgh  and  London, 
1858-60,  s.v.  '  Bilocation.' 


'  phantasm  of  the  living '  in  the  circumstances 
mentioned.  It  is  a  remarkable  agreement  between 
psychological  fact  and  primitive  psychological 
theory,  but  the  latter  is  alone  quite  sufficient 
reason  for  the  genesis  of  the  belief. 

The  soul  itself  constantly  tends  to  be  a  counter- 
part or  duplicate,  a  spiritual-material  double  of  the 
person.  Ihe  reason  for  this  tendency  is  to  be 
found  in  the  main  source  of  the  belief  in  the  soul. 
This  is  the  mental  percept  and  the  memory-image 
of  an  object,  which  is  inevitably  a  replica  of  the 
sensational  percept  (though  possibly  not  technically 
identical  in  its  physiological  causation),  somewhat 
incomplete,  but  often  vivid  enough.1  It  is  called 
up  most  vividly  in  dreams,  but  also  in  waking 
memory.  It  may  include  roughly  the  whole  per- 
sonality, or  be  confined  to  one  aspect  of  it ;  but  its 
general  foundation  is  visual. 

Some  cases  may  be  cited  where  the  soul  shows 
this  tendency  to  be,  or  actually  is,  a  double.  It  is 
to  be  premised  that  speculation  frequently  draws  a 
distinction  between  this  form  of  the  soul  and  a  later 
transcendental  conception. 

The  kelah  or  Id  of  the  Karens  '  cannot  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  person  himself,'  when,  as 
sometimes  happens,  it  appears  after  death.  It  is 
described  as  '  the  individuality,  or  general  idea,  of 
an  inanimate  object.  It  is  also  the  individuality 
of  the  animated  Deing.  It,  in  fact,  personates  the 
varied  phenomena  of  life.'  '  It  is  distinct  from  the 
body,' and  'its  absence  from  the  body  is  death,' 
yet  it  is  not  regarded  as  the  soul  proper,  which  is 
the  thah.  '  The  body  and  the  Id  are  represented  as 
matter  and  spirit,  yet  materiality  belongs  to  the  Id,' 
It  is  also  described  as  a  guardian  spirit,  walking  by 
a  man's  side  or 

'  wandering  away  in  search  of  dreamy  adventures.  If  it  is 
absent  too  long,  it  must  be  called  back  with  offerings.  When 
the  Id  is  absent  in  our  waking  hours,  we  become  weak  or  fearful 
or  sick,  and,  if  the  absence  be  protracted,  death  ensues.  Hence 
it  is  a  matter  of  the  deepest  interest  with  a  Karen  to  keep  his 
id  with  him.  He  is  ever  and  anon  making  offerings  of  food  to 
it,  beating  a  bamboo  to  gain  its  attention,  calling  it  back,  and 
tying  his  wrist  with  a  bit  of  thread,  which  is  supposed  to  have 
the  power  to  retain  it.' 

Not  only  every  living  creature,  but  also  every 
inanimate  thing— axes  and  knives,  for  instance,  as 
well  as  all  trees  and  plants — has  its  Id,  which  is 
'  liable  to  wander  away  from  the  individual.' 
When,  thus  wandering,  it  is  '  interfered  with  by 
an  enemy  of  any  kind,  death  ensues  to  the  in- 
dividual '  to  whom  it  belongs.  If  a  man  drops  his 
axe  while  up  a  tree,  he  looks  down  and  calls  out, 
'  La  of  the  axe,  come,  come  ! ' 

'  When  the  rice-field  presents  an  unpromising  appearance,  it 
is  supposed  that  the  rice-kelah  is  detained  in  some  way  from  the 
rice,  on  account  of  which  it  languishes.  It  is  recalled  with  this 
invocation — "  O  come,  rice-kelah,  come  !  Come  to  the  field. 
Come  to  the  rice.  With  seed  of  each  gender,  come.  Come  from 
the  river  Kho,  come  from  the  river  Kaw  ;  from  the  place  where 
they  meet,  come.  Come  from  the  West,  come  from  the  East ; 
from  the  throat  of  the  bird,  from  the  maw  of  the  ape,  from  the 
throat  of  the  elephant.  Come  from  the  sources  of  rivers  and 
their  mouths.  Come  from  the  country  of  the  Shan  and  Burman. 
From  the  distant  kingdoms  come.  From  all  granaries  come.  O 
rice-kelah,  come  to  the  rice."  ' 

As  distinguished  from  the  thah,  the  Id  or  kelah  '  is 
not  regarded  as  the  responsible  agent  in  human 
action.  .  .  .  When  we  sin,  it  is  the  thah,  or 
"soul,"  which  sins.'  'By  some  the  kelah  is  re- 
presented as  the  inner  man,  and  with  others  the 
inner  man  is  the  thah.'  It  may  leave  the  body  in 
sleep.  Such  an  absent  la  may  be  caught  by  a 
wizard,  and  transferred  to  a  dead  man,  who  is 
thereby  resuscitated.  In  this  case  the  friends  of 
the  robbed  man  procure  another  la  from  another 
sleeping  man,  and  so  on.  The  same  Karens  hold 
that  the  world  is  more  thickly  peopled  with  '  spirits ' 
than  with  men,  and  that  '  the  future  world '  is  a 
counterpart  of  this.  Lastly,  every  organ  of  the 
body  has  its  Id  counterpart.  Blindness  is  due  to 
an  evil  spirit  having  devoured  the  la  of  the  eye. 

1  Crawley,  Idea  of  the  Soul,  London,  1909,  pp.  73-78,  193-207. 


856 


DOUBLES 


The  Id  in  all  cases,  though  not  immortal,  'exists 
before  man,  and  lives  after  him.  It  is  neither 
good  nor  bad,  but  merely  gives  life.'  ■  In  analogous 
cases  this  last  detail  is  negatived,  and  it  is  precisely 
a  mystic  unrealized  element  that  is  supposed  to 
produce  the  phenomena  of  life. 

The  Lushai  term  thla  is  possibly  connected  with 
the  Karen  Id.     It  is  '  a  sort  of  double.' 2 

The  Chinese  hold  that  the  soul  may  exist  out- 
side the  body,  '  as  a  duplicate  having  the  form  of 
the  body,  as  well  as  its  solid  consistency.'  De 
Groot  describes  it  also  as  '  the  invisible  duplicate  ' 
of  a  person,  and  speaks  of  '  a  conviction  which  calls 
up  the  body  immediately  before  their  eyes  when- 
ever they  think  of  the  soul.'3 

Some  striking  examples  apply  the  principle  so  as 
to  form  a  double  creation.  Thus,  the  Asabas  of 
the  Niger  hold  the  following  opinion  : 

'  Every  one  is  considered  to  be  created  in  duplicate,  and  the 
representative,  or,  as  it  were,  the  reflection  in  the  spirit  world 
of  the  body  and  of  its  possessions,  is  the  chi  and  its  possessions. 
A  man's  chi  marries  the  chi  of  the  woman  the  man  marries,  and 
bo  on.  In  addition,  the  chi  .  .  acts  as  a  guardian  spirit.  .  .  . 
Chi  i  me  jum,  "  My  chi  has  done  badly,"  is  a  not  uncommon  ex- 
pression.' 'Entirely  distinct  from  his  chi'  is  the  spirit  mon, 
which  inhabits  the  man  himself.4 

The  Ba-Huana  believe  in  a  soul,  bun,  and  a  double, 
doshi.  Only  adults  have  bun  ;  animals  and  fetishes 
have  doshi,  but  no  bun.  The  doshi  appears  in 
dreams.  The  bun  of  a  dead  man  may  be  seen  only 
at  night ;  it  is  in  human  form,  white  and  misty.5 
The  peasants  of  Sicily  believe  that  'every  material 
thing  has  an  impalpable  image  or  double,  which  can 
be  detached,  and  can  penetrate  other  bodies.'  The 
phenomena  of  dreams  are  thus  explained.6  The 
Zapotecs  regarded  the  soul  as  a  'second  self.'7 

The  tribes  living  at  the  southern  end  of  Lake 
Nyassa  believe  that  the  mzimu,  or  soul,  has  the 
form  of  the  owner,  but  is  intangible  and  unsub- 
stantial, though  it  can  talk  and  act  as  well  as  the 
real  man.  It  is  visible  only  in  dreams,  and  the 
shadow  is  a  '  part  of '  it.8  The  Dela wares  used  for 
'soul'  a  word  indicating  repetition,  and  equiva- 
lent to  a  double  or  counterpart.9  The  Iroquois 
soul  was  'an  exceedingly  subtle  and  refined  image,' 
yet  material,  '  possessing  the  form  of  the  body, 
with  a  head,  teeth,  arms,  legs,'  etc.  The  spectre 
or  wraith  was  animated  by  the  soul.10  The  Aht 
soul  was  '  a  being  of  human  shape  and  of  human 
mode  of  acting.'11  The  Eskimo  say  that  the  soul 
'  exhibits  the  same  shape  as  the  body  it  belongs 
to,  but  is  of  a  more  subtle  and  ethereal  nature. ' 12 
Andamanese  souls  '  partake  of  the  form  of  the 
j^son  to  whom  they  belong. ' 1S  The  Sihanaka  hold 
that  the  mirage  is  the  soul  of  the  reflected  scene.14 
The  soul  is  regarded  by  the  East  Indian  Islanders 
as  like  the  person  in  every  respect,  with  all  his 
qualities  and  defects ;  it  is  a  copy  or  abstract  of 
him,  but  is  always  '  material. '  In  Java  the  term 
for  soul  is  '  refined  body ' ;  in  Celebes,  '  image ' ;  in 
Toumbulu,  '  companion ' ;  in  Sangir,  '  duplicate.' 15 

1  E.  B.  Cross,  in  JAOS  iv.  (1854)  309-312  ;  P.  Mason,  in 
JASBe  xxxiv.  [1805]  195-202. 

2  T.  O.  Hodson,  Naga  Tribes  of  Manipur,  Lond.  1911,  p.  159  f. 

3  J.  J.  M.  de  Groot,  The  Religious  System  of  China,  Leyden, 
1S91-1907,  iv.  99,  i.  243,  355. 

4  J.  Parkinson,  in  JAI  xxxvi.  (1906)  312  ff. 

5  Torday  and  Joyce,  in  JAI  xxxvi.  (1906)  290  f. 

6  Morrino,  in  Macmillan's  Magazine,  1897,  p.  374. 

7  H.  H.  Bancroft,  Native  Races  of  the  Pacific  States,  New 
York,  1885,  i.  661. 

8  H.  S.  Stannus,  in  JAI  xl.  (1910)  299. 

9  D.  G.  Brintou,  The  Lendpe'  and  their  Legends,  Philadelphia, 
1885,  p.  69. 

10  J.  N.  B.  Hewitt,  in  JAFL  viii.  (1895)  107. 

11  G.  M.  Sproat,  Scenes  and  Studies  of  Savage  Life,  London, 
1868,  p.  173. 

12  H.  Rink,  Tales  and  Traditions  of  the  Eskimo,  Edinburgh 
and  London,  1875,  p.  36. 

13  E.  H.  Man,  '  The  Aboriginal  Inhabitants  of  the  Andaman 
Islands,'  in  JAI  xii.  (1883)  94. 

'4  Crawley,  op.  cit.  p.  134. 

15  A.  C.  Kruijt,  Bet  Animisme  in  den  Indisch.  Archipel, 
Hague,  1906,  pp.  10,  253,  13. 


The  Malagasy  ambiroa  and  the  Dayak  amirua, 
hambaruan,  and  bruwa  are  connected  with  a 
word  meaning  'two.'1  Among  the  Karo  Bataks 
the  soul  is  '  the  copy  of  the  owner,  his  other  self . ' 
The  soul  which  appears  after  death  is  the  dead 
man's  Doppelgdnger.'2  Codrington  describes  the 
Melanesian  atai,  'reflection-soul,'  as  an  'invisible 
second  self.'8  The  soul  of  the  Tongans  was  not 
'a  distinct  essence  from  the  body,  but  only  the 
more  ethereal  part  of  it,  and  exists  in  Bolo- 
too  (the  spirit  world)  in  the  form  and  likeness 
of  the  body  the  moment  after  death.'4  In  the 
Hervey  Islands  the  soul  was  regarded  as  an  airy 
but  visible  copy  of  the  man.  '  The  visible  world 
itself  is  but  a  gross  copy  of  what  exists  in  spirit- 
land.  If  the  axe  cleaves,  it  is  because  the  fairy 
of  the  axe  is  invisibly  present.'6  The  Tahitian 
soul  resembled  the  body  ;  everything  had  a  soul.6 
The  wairua  of  the  Maoris  '  seems  to  have  signified 
a  shadowy  form.'  It  was  sometimes  mistaken  for 
the  man  himself,  and  only  by  melting  into  thin 
air  was  its  '  ghostship  '  recognized.  It  is  described 
also  as  a  'similitude.'7  The  soul  of  the  Denes  is 
described  as  a  double.8 

Frequently  the  soul-double  is  regarded  as  a 
miniature  duplicate,  varying  in  size  from  half 
size,  or  that  of  a  child-copy  of  the  person,  to 
microscopic  dimensions.  In  Egypt  it  occurs  as 
half-size.9  In  Fiji  it  is  found  as  of  'a  little  child,' 
or  of  'small  stature.'10  In  Australia,  tribes  near 
Adelaide  held  it  to  be  of  the  size  '  of  a  boy  eight 
years  old';11  elsewhere  'a  little  body.'12  The 
Dayaks  of  Sarawak  regarded  it  as  a  '  miniature 
human  being.'18  This  is  the  prevalent  notion 
in  the  East  Indian  Islands,  as  among  the  Minang- 
kabauers  of  Sumatra,  the  Tontemboan  of  Mina- 
hassa,  the  Toradjas  of  Celebes  ;  the  Semang  of  the 
Malay  Peninsula  regard  it  as  of  the  size  of  a  grain 
of  maize  ;  the  Malays  as  a  kind  of  '  thumbling,'  a 
'  thin,  insubstantial  human  image,'  or  '  mannikin,' 
of  about  the  size  of  the  thumb.14  The  Hindus 
regarded  it  as  of  the  size  of  the  thumb.16  The 
Nutkas,  the  Indians  of  the  Lower  Fraser  River, 
the  Hurons,  the  ancient  Mexicans,  the  Macusis, 
certain  South  African  tribes,  the  Greeks,  the 
Teutons,  and  other  early  European  peoples  also 
held  it  to  be  a  miniature  copy  of  the  owner.10 

The  Egyptian  ka  is  a  classic  example  of  these 
beliefs  (see  Body  [Egyp.]  and  Death,  etc.  [Egyp.]). 
The  ka  could  live  without  the  body,  but  the  body 
could  not  live  without  the  ka.  Yet  the  ka  was 
material.17  It  is  represented  not  only  as  a  minia- 
ture duplicate  of  the  person,  but  sometimes  as  half 

1  A.  C.  Kruijt,  op.  cit.  12.  2  26.  8. 

3  The  Melamsians,  Oxford,  1891,  p.  261. 

4  W.  Mariner,  The  Tonga  Islands*,  London,  1818,  ii.  99,  102. 

5  W.  W.  Gill,  Myths  and  Songs  from  the  South  Pacific, 
London,  1876,  pp.  154,  171,  199. 

6  W.  Ellis,  Polynesian  Researches2,  London,  1859,  i.  361,  397. 

I  E.  Tregear,  in  JAI  xix.  (1890)  118,  120. 

8  A.  G.  Morice,  Proc.  of  Canadian  Institute,  1888-9,  p.  158. 

9  A.  Wiedemann,  The  Ancient  Egyp.  Doctrine  of  the  Immor- 
tality of  the  Soul,  Eng.  tr.,  London,  1895,  p.  12. 

1°  L.  Fison,  in  Prazer,  GB2  i.  260,  and  in  JAI  x.  (1881)  147  f 

II  E.  J.  Eyre,  Journals  of  Expeditions  of  Discovery  into 
Central  Australia,  London,  1846,  ii.  356. 

i2Frazer,  GB2i.  248. 

13  Spenser  St.  John,  Life  in  the  Forests  of  the  Far  East, 
London,  1862,  i.  177  ff. 

14  J.  L.  van  der  Toorn,  in  Bijdragen  tot  de  Taal-,  Land-,  en 
Volkenkunde  van  flederl.-Indie,  series  6,  v.  (1890)  48  f.,  58,  61; 
J.  A.  T.  Schwarz,  in  Mededeelingen  van  wege  het  Nederl. 
Zendeling-Genootschap,  xlvii.  (1903)  104 ;  A.  C.  Kruijt,  p.  12 ; 
W.  W.  Skeat  and  C.  O.  Blagden,  The  Pagan  Races  of  the  Malay 
Peninsula,  London,  1906,  ii.  4f.,  194 f.;  W.  W.  Skeat,  Malay 
Magic,  London,  1900,  p.  47  ff. 

is  Monier- Williams,  Brahmanism  and  Hinduism,  London, 
1891,  p.  28. 

ifi  J.  G.  Swan,  in  Smithsonian  Contributions,  xvi.  84 ;  Boas, 
6th  Rep.  on  N.W.  Tribes  of  Canada,  44,  9th  Rep.  on  N.  W. 
Tribes  of  Canada,  461  ;  Rel.  des  Jisuites,  (1634)  17,  (1636)  104, 
(1639)  143 ;  Payne,  Hist.  America,  ii.  407  ;  Im  Thurn,  in  J  A  I 
xi.  (1882)  363  ;  J.  Macdonald,  Religion  and  Myth,  1893,  p.  321 
Crawley,  Idea  of  the  Soul,  186  f. 

1'  Wiedemann,  19. 


DOUBLES 


867 


the  size,  sometimes  as  full  size.1  After  death  it 
became  the  man's  personality  proper,  being  incor- 
porated with  the  mummy.  In  '  the  everlasting 
house,'  the  tomb,  it  dwelt  as  long  as  the  mummy 
was  there.  It  might  go  in  and  out  of  the  tomb 
and  refresh  itself  with  meat  and  drink,  but  it 
never  failed  to  go  back  to  the  mummy,  '  with  the 
name  of  which  it  seems  to  have  been  closely  con- 
nected.' In  hieroglyph  it  was  'represented  by 
two  upraised  arms,  the  acting  parts  of  the  person,' 
with  a  depression  in  the  centre  of  the  horizontal 
bar  which  joins  them,  to  suggest  the  head.2 

Before  discussing  the  relation  between  the  full- 
sized  and  the  miniature  double,  it  is  as  well  to 
repeat  the  fact  that  early  thought  insists  very 
strongly  on  the  principle  of  duplication,  and  ex- 
tends the  application  very  widely.  It  serves  as 
a  theory  of  the  soul  and  of  a  future  existence.  It 
also  serves  as  a  theory  of  biological  reproduction 
and  of  physical  evolution  generally.  Without 
going  into  the  subject  of  pre-seientific  psychology, 
it  is  necessary  to  note  the  connexion  between  the 
belief  in  the  miniature  double  and  certain  widely 
spread  notions  about  the  soul.  Corresponding 
with  the  percept  is  the  fact  that  the  soul  is 
invisible  when  its  owner  is  visible,  unless,  as  we 
shall  see,  there  are  special  limiting  circumstances. 
The  comparative  permanence  and  generalized 
nature  of  the  memory-image  of  individuals  corre- 
spond with  the  generalized  idea  of  species,  as  an 
ideal  of  which  individuals  are  copies.  A  belief 
which  may  almost  be  regarded  as  universal  is  that 
children  are  re-incarnations  of  the  souls  of  parents 
or  of  ancestors.  A  connected  and  frequent  belief 
is  tantamount  to  a  germ-plasm  theory  of  the  soul. 
Parallel  with  this  is  the  notion  that  reproduction 
can  be  effected,  even  in  the  human  species,  by 
fission  or  budding.  All  these  various  beliefs  are 
cases  of  duplication.  They  include  good  reasons 
why  the  soul  should  be  regarded  as  a  miniature, 
whether  as  germ  or  embryo,  or  as  a  child.  A  full- 
grown  man  develops  from  a  smaller  copy  of  himself, 
and  this  from  an  infinitesimally  minute  replica 
which  has  proceeded  from  another  individual. 
The  theory  is  applied  in  early  thought  far  more 
than  in  a  scientific  age  which  professes  practi- 
cally the  same  theory.  Thus,  an  Australian, 
rebuking  his  son,  will  say  to  him :  '  There  you 
stand  with  my  body,  and  yet  you  won't  do  what  I 
tell  you.'8 

The  minute  size  of  the  soul  is  explained  by  the 
Australians  as  depending  upon  the  necessity  that 
it  should  be  able  to  enter  a  woman's  body.  But 
there  is  also  the  widely  spread  recognition  of  the 
fact  that  it  leaves  the  body,  both  in  sleep  and 
illness,  and  at  death.  The  body  remains.  Two 
views  are  possible,  and  both  are  found.  Firstly, 
the  duplicate  may  be  a  film,  easily  separable  from 
the  body  ;  this  would  correspond  to  an  outer  soul, 
the  soul  of  the  outer  man.  Or,  secondly,  the 
duplicate  may  be  an  inset,  and  therefore  an  eject. 
Small  enough  to  leave  the  body  by  the  mouth, 
or  even  by  the  fontanel,  it  is  often  regarded  as 
expansible,  filling  the  body  as  an  inner  shape,  the 
soul  of  the  inner  man,  or  the  '  inner  man '  himself. 
Its  flimsy  and  insubstantial  nature,  whether  in 
dreams,  memory,  or  hallucinations,  agrees  well 
with  this  elasticity.4 

The  link  between  the  soul  as  shape  and  the  soul 
as  inner  movement  may  be  found  here,  even  if 
we  do  not  identify  the  soul  as  germ  and  the  soul 

1  Wiedemann,  12,  16  ;  Lepsius,  Denkmdler,  Berlin,  1849-60, 
Hi.  21,  87. 

2  Wiedemann,  19  f. ;  E.  A.  Wallis  Budge,  The  Mummy, 
Cambridge,  1893,  p.  328 ;  W.  M.  Flinders  Petrie,  The  Religion 
of  Ancient  Egypt,  London,  19013,  pp.  8ff.,  17  ;  R.  V.  Lanzone, 
Dizionario  di  mitologia  egizia,  Turin,  1888,  v.  387 ff.,  390  ff., 
1197  ff. 

3  A.  W.  Howitt,  in  JAI  xiv.  (1886)  145. 

*  See,  on  the  whole  subject,  Crawley,  op,  cit.  p.  230  ff. 


as  inner  man.  Each  of  the  latter  applies  to  its 
own  peculiar  circumstances,  and  neither  is  in- 
consistent with  the  theory  of  films.  This  last 
theory,  in  its  converse  aspect,  has  been  made 
into  a  standard  metaphysical  theory  of  physical 
and  aesthetic  creation  by  Greek  philosophy.  It  has 
even  been  elevated  into  a  theory  of  vision  and 
sensation  generally.  In  the  former  application 
the  filmy  duplicate  of  savage  thought  becomes  the 
transcendental  Form,  or  eKos,  which  is  impressed 
upon  Matter,  or  ISK-q.  Similarly,  the  savage  theory 
of  species  and  individual  was  canonized  in  the 
Ideal  Theory  of  Plato. 

The  oiaron  of  the  Iroquois1  is  paralleled  in 
many  rude  philosophies.  It  is  a  permanent  ideal 
duplicate  of  each  individual  of  the  species.  When 
it  is  regarded  as  a  reality,  the  difficulty  of  biloca- 
tion  recurs,  not  to  speak  of  the  problem,  Which 
is  the  essential  reality,  the  original  or  the  copy  ? 
— or,  in  other  words,  Which  is  the  original  ?  The 
Iroquois  believed  that  the  oiaron,  the  '  type  or 
model,'  was  'larger  and  more  perfect'  than  any 
single  member  of  the  species.  It  was  sometimes 
called  'the  old  one.'  Thus,  converting  type  into 
prototype,  the  Indian  was  perhaps  more  scientific 
than  metaphysical. 

The  problem  of  personal  identity  (similar  to 
that  of  original  and  copy  in  the  case  of  duplicates) 
is  raised  in  a  curious  way  and  with  curious  results 
by  the  duplication  theory  of  reproduction.  When 
the  soul  of  a  dead  man  is  re-incarnated  in  a  child, 
there  is  no  practical  embarrassment.  But,  ac- 
cording to  Manu,  the  father  is  conceived  in  the 
body  of  his  wife,  and  is  himself  re- born  as  his 
child.2  A  man  is  thus  his  own  father  and  his  own 
son  simultaneously.  Some  analogous  notion,  com- 
bined with  a  fear  of  personal  insecurity  or  loss  of 
power  caused  by  this  division  of  personality,  seems 
a  not  impossible  factor  in  the  superstitious  form  of 
infanticide.3  A  Kaffir  will  frequently  kill  one  of 
his  twin  children,  the  belief  being  that  otherwise 
'he  will  lose  his  strength.'4 

In  some  psychologies  each  part  of  the  person  has 
its  '  spiritual '  duplicate.  The  theory  of  homceo- 
meria  is  foreshadowed  so  frequently  in  early 
speculation  that  we  may  fairly  suppose  it  to  be  im- 
plicit in  early  atomic  philosophy.  When  Chinese 
doctors  speak  as  if  the  soul  were  breakable  and 
divisible  into  molecules,6  and  when  we  read  of 
Malay  tin-magie  that  '  each  grain  of  ore  appears 
to  be  considered  as  endowed  with  a  separate  entity 
or  individuality,'  and  that  it  possesses  the  power 
of  reproduction,6  it  may  well  be  that  each  atom 
is  implicitly  viewed  as  a  minute  replica  of  the 
whole. 

Duplication  by  a  process  of  fission  or  of  budding 
(gemmation)  is  occasionally  hinted  at  in  early 
philosophy.  The  Central  Australians  tell  how  in 
the  time  of  '  the  ancestors '  a  man  would  shake 
himself,  and  spirit-children  would  then  drop  from 
his  muscles.  An  ancestor  suddenly  found  a  dupli- 
cate of  himself  appearing  at  his  side,  and  exclaimed, 
'  Hullo  !  that  is  me.' 7 

The  development  of  dual  personality  by  a  pro- 
cess of  division  may  be  illustrated  from  Hindu 
theology.  '  The  One  Being  was  not  happy,  being 
alone.  He  wished  for  a  second.  He  caused  his 
own  nature  to  fall  in  twain,  and  thus  became 
husband  and  wife.'8  This  duality  is  rather  that 
of  mirror-images  ;  '  this  (second)  was  only  a  half 

1  Hewitt,  loc.  cit. 

2  Manu  (tr.  G.  Biihler,  in  SEE  xxv.  [Oxford,  1886]  329). 
s  See  Westermarck,  MI  i.  461. 

4  D.  Kidd,  The  Essential  Kafir,  London,  1904,  p.  202. 
BDeGroot,  v.  802  f. 

6W.  W.  Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  266;  A.  Hale,  in  JRAS, 
Straits  Branch,  xvi.  (1886)319. 

7  Spencer-Gillenb,  155. 

8  Monier  -  Williams,  op.  cit.  p.  29,  quoting  the  Satapatha 
Brahmana  (xiv.  4),  and  Erhaddranyaka  Upanifad  (i.  3). 


858 


DOUBLES 


of  himself,  as  the  half  of  a  split  pea  is.'  Combina- 
tion produces  completeness,  'as  a  split  pea  is 
(completed)  by  being  joined  with  its  other  half.'1 

Modern  psychology  has  studied  many  cases 
where  the  unity  of  personality  is  disturbed.  The 
so-called  double  personality  of  such  cases  adds  one 
more  apparent  confirmation  of  the  ancient  theory 
of  duplication  by  division  of  what  may  be  described 
as  a  two-layered  unity.  In  the  ethical  sphere  the 
ancient  distrust  of  '  double-mindedness '  implies 
more  than  a  mere  tendency  to  deceit  and  treachery. 
It  implies  the  existence  of  two  souls,  or  a  double 
soul,  in  one  person.  Cf.  1  Ch  1283  '  that  were  not 
of  double  heart '  (lit.  '  without  a  heart  and  a  heart ') ; 
Ps  122  '  with  a  double  heart  [lit.  '  with  a  heart 
and  a  heart ']  do  they  speak.'  Duplication  involves 
not  only  duplicity  but  instability ;  '  a  double- 
minded  man,  unstable  in  all  his  ways.'2  It  is 
possible  that  one  factor  in  the  general  desire  for 
sincerity  was  a  superstitious  notion  of  the  danger 
of  unreality.  If  a  man  professes  non-reality,  he 
may  become  non-real  himself.  'There  is,'  says 
Westermarck,  '  something  uncanny  in  the  untrue 
word  itself. '  3  Cicero  observed  :  '  Nothing  that  is 
false  can  be  lasting ' 4 — a  rhetorical  remark  which 
to  a  savage  might  express  a  physical  law.  It  is  a 
curious  fact  that  in  civilization  a  sort  of  specific 
insincerity  or  double-mindedness  is  popularly  as- 
cribed to  the  artistic  temperament,  particularly  in 
the  case  of  actors.  As  the  actor  is  a  double,  and 
plays  a  part  on  the  stage,  so  is  he  regarded  in  his 
own  character.     Cf.  art.  DoUBLE-MlNDEDNESS. 

The  analogy  of  the  soul  to  the  portrait,  reflexion, 
and  shadow  nas  led  to  certain  curious  examples  of 
the  pictorial  double.  The  easiest  method  of  in- 
duction is  by  similars,  and  early  thought  seems  to 
have  noted  identity  far  more  than  difference. 

This  tendency  is  well  exemplified  in  Chinese 
psychology,  and  has  to  be  taken  into  account  in 
estimating  many  cases  of  spiritual  identification. 

'  When  a  Chinese  sees  a  plant,'  for  example,  '  reminding  him, 
by  its  shape,  of  a  man  or  some  animal,  ...  he  is  influenced 
immediately  by  an  association  between  it  and  that  being.  This 
being  becomes  to  him  the  soul  of  the  plant,  anthropomorphous, 
or  shaped  as  a  beast.  .  .  .  Thus,  association  of  images  with 
beings  actually  becomes  identification,  both  materially  and 
psychically.  An  image,  especially  if  pictorial  or  sculptured, 
and  thus  approaching  close  to  the  reality,  is  an  alter  ego  of  the 
living  reality,  an  abode  of  its  soul,  nay,  it  is  that  reality  itself.' 
...  This  kind  of  association  is  the  backbone  of  Chinese  re- 
ligion.5 

The  soul  of  the  Yaos,  we  saw,  bears  to  the  body 
'  the  relation  which  a  picture  has  to  the  reality.' 
But  the  Chinese  go  much  further.  For  all  practical 
purposes  the  life-sized  picture  of  a  dead  man  is  a 
duplicate  personality.  It  enables  the  deceased  '  to 
live  on  among  his  descendants.'  There  are  stories 
of  statues  and  portraits  acting  for  the  persons  they 
represent,  and  even  begetting  children. 

There  once  existed  also  an  art,  Khwai  shuh,  by  which  life 
could  be  infused  into  a  statue  or  portrait.  The  living  image  was 
then  made  UBe  of,  as  Frankenstein  employed  his  monster.  6 

Animal-souls  or  fetish-souls,  external  souls 
generally,  are  frequently  described  by  observers 
under  the  term  alter  ego.  Tribes  of  the  Niger 
believe  that  each  person  has 

'  an  alter  ego  in  the  form  of  some  animal,  such  as  a  crocodile  or 
hippopotamus.  It  is  believed  that  such  a  person's  life  is  bound 
up  with  that  of  the  animal  to  such  an  extent  that  whatever 
affects  the  one  produces  a  corresponding  impression  upon  the 
other,  and  that  if  one  dies  the  other  must  speedily  do  so  too. 
It  happened  not  very  long  ago  that  an  Englishman  shot  a 
hippopotamus  close  to  a  native  village  ;  the  friends  of  a  woman 
who  died  the  same  night  in  the  village  demanded  and  eventually 
obtained  five  pounds  as  compensation  for  the  murder  of  the 
woman.'  7 

In  the  Euahlayi  tribe  of  Australia  the  yunbeai, 
or  individual  totem,  is  an  '  animal  familiar,'  '  a 
sort  of  alter  ego.'     '  A  man's  spirit  is  in  his  yunbeai, 

1  Monier- Williams,  op.  cit.  p.  183. 

2  .)a  1».  3  Ml  ii.  116. 

■■  tie  Ojjiciis,  ii.  12.  s  rje  Groot,  iv.  339  f. 

»  lb.  i.  114,  iv.  342. 

7  C.  H.  Robinson,  Hausaland,  London,  1896,  p.  36  ff. 


and  his  yunbeai's  spirit  in  him.'  A  medicine-man 
'  can  assume  the  shape  of  his  yunbeai.' 1  The 
tona,  second  self,  soul,  or  tutelary  genius,  of  the 
Zapotecs  was  an  animal. 

'  It  was  believed  that  health  and  existence  were  bound  up 
with  that  of  the  animals,  in  fact,  that  the  death  of  both  would 
occur  simultaneously.'2 

Even  a  substitute  may  be  similarly  described. 
Among  the  Bataks  a  piece  of  wood  the  length  of 
the  sick  man's  body  is  left  at  the  place  where  the 
evil  spirit  that  has  taken  the  man's  soul  is  believed 
to  reside.  Snouck  Hurgronje  describes  this  log  as 
a  dubbelganger.3 

Examples  might  be  multiplied.  It  is  natural 
that,  when  once  the  notion  of  '  spiritual '  duplica- 
tion has  been  formed,  it  may  be  applied  to  any 
thing  that  strikes  the  fancy.  The  origin  of  ex- 
ternal souls  generally  cannot  be  ascribed  to  a 
desire  for  safeguarding  the  life  of  the  owner.  At 
least  the  method  is  a  very  dangerous  one.  The 
soul  is  far  more  likely  to  be  safe  when  it  is  in, 
or  in  combination  with,  the  body  of  the  owner. 
Moreover,  this  external  soul  not  only  dies  when  its 
'  original '  dies,  but  involves  in  its  own  death  the 
death  of  the  owner.  Duplication  here  simply 
duplicates  danger  ;  and  it  is  unlikely  that  the 
derivation  of  the  external  soul  is  from  any  notion 
of  placing  the  actual  soul  of  a  man  in  an  external 
hiding-place.  In  fact,  the  theory  of  the  soul  which 
involves  the  belief  in  the  appearance  of  a  man's 
double  or  wraith  shortly  before,  or  at,  or  just  after, 
his  death  brings  into  very  strong  relief  the  danger 
of  making  the  unity  of  the  person  into  a  duality. 

The  phenomena  of  this  wraith  or  double  might 
be  illustrated  at  great  length,  but  they  present 
hardly  any  variation  of  detail.  A  curious  and 
significant  fact  is  the  large  number  of  carefully 
studied  cases  in  modern  civilization  of  such 
'  phantasms  '  of  the  living  or  the  lately  dead,  which 
have  been  seen  by  educated  and  intelligent  persons, 
quite  free  from  pathological  abnormality.4  It  is  a 
no  less  curious  fact  that  the  appearances  present 
precisely  the  same  features  as  are  mentioned  in 
mediaeval  and  savage  folklore.  There  is  no  doubt 
about  the  modern  appearances,  as  far  as  their  sub- 
jective reality  is  concerned  ;  nor  can  there  be  any 
doubt  about  appearances  in  earlier  culture.  They 
are,  so  far  as  we  know,  cases  of  visual  hallucination. 
Such  hallucination  may  be  defined  as  '  the  pro- 
jection of  a  mental  image  outwards  when  there  is 
no  external  agency  answering  to  it.'6  Hallucina- 
tion is  not  to  be  denied  for  earlier  stages  of  human 
evolution,  but  there  is  no  probability  that  it  in- 
creases inversely  as  mental  development.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  the  remarkable  thing  is  this,  that  the 
'  primitive '  notion  of  the  soul  supplies  in  theory 
not  only  what  actually  happens  in  practice,  but 
also  adequate  speculative  reasons  for  such  happen- 
ings, though  these  reasons  are  both  pre-scientific 
and  opposed  to  all  scientific  facts.  It  is  unnecessary 
to  enter  into  any  definition  of  'ghost,'  'wraith,' 
'  spectre,'  '  phantom,'  and  similar  terms.  The 
occasion  of  the  appearance  of  the  double  has  been 
noted.  It  remains  to  supply  some  typical  examples 
and  to  draw  out  their  spiritualistic  explanation. 

In  Teutonic  folklore  to  see  one's  'angel'  was  regarded  as 
an  omen  of  approaching  death.6  In  English  folklore  the  belief 
still  obtains  that  at  midnight  of  St.  Mark's  Eve  one  may 
see  from  the  church  porch  all  those  who  are  to  die  in  the 
course  of  the  year.7  Mr.  Baring-Gould  knew  of  a  young  car- 
penter in  Devonshire  who  was  firmly  convinced  he  had  seen  his 
own  double  on  St.  Mark's  Eve.  He  went  to  the  church  porch 
in  a  spirit  of  bravado.     '  All  he  could  say  was  that  he  had  seen 

>  K.  L.  Parker,  The  Euahlayi  Tribe,  London,  1905,  pp.  21,  30. 

2  Bancroft,  i.  661,  ii.  277. 

3  C.  Snouck  Hurgronje,  Het  Gajo-land  en  zijne  bewoners, 
Batavia,  1903,  p.  310. 

J  SeeF.  W.  II.  Myers  and  F.  Podmore,  Phantasms  of  the  Laving 
London,  18S6,  passim. 
5  J.  Sully,  Illusions,  London,  1895,  p.  113. 
<>  J.  Grimm,  Teutonic  Mythology  (Eng.  tr.  1880-88),  ii.  S76. 
7  Of.  James  Montgomery's  poem,  The  Vigil  of  St.  Mark. 


DOUBLES 


859 


himself  go  past  him,  thrust  open  the  church  door,  which  he 
knew  was  locked,  pass  inside,  and  shut  the  door  after  him.  He 
could  not  be  mistaken  ;  the  figure  had  turned  and  looked  him 
full  in  the  face,  and  he  knew  himself  as  surely  as  when  he 
glanced  into  mother's  looking-glass.'  The  young  man  took  to  his 
bed,  though  nothing  ailed  him,  and  died  of  sheer  fright.1  Shelley 
declared  a  few  days  before  his  death  that  he  had  seen  his 
double.  Goethe  (who,  by  the  way,  practised  the  visualization 
of  mental  images)  records  his  having  seen  '  an  exact  counterpart 
of  himself  coming  towards  him.'2  Robert  Perceval,  second  son 
of  the  Right  Honourable  Sir  John  Perceval,  saw  his  own 
apparition,  'bloody  and  ghostly,  whereat  he  was  so  astonished 
that  he  immediately  swooned  away,  but,  recovering,  he  saw  the 
spectre  depart.'  Soon  afterwards  he  was  found  dead,  under 
mysterious  circumstances,  in  the  Strand.3  In  1899,  Mrs.  Milman, 
wife  of  Mr.  A.  J.  Milman,  assistant  clerk  to  the  House  of 
Commons,  declared  that  her  rooms  in  the  Speaker's  Court  were 
haunted,  and  had  been  haunted  for  many  years,  by  a  spiritual 
double  cf  herself,  which  had  been  seen  by  many  people  when 
she  was  elsewhere,  though  she  herself  had  never  seen  it.J  A  well- 
known  M.P.  died  suddenly  when  away  from  the  House.  It  was 
stated  that  he  was  seen  by  several  members  in  the  lobby  at  the 
time  he  died.9  In  Alsace  the  belief  is  marked ;  se  voir  soi- 
mSme,  sich  selbst  schen,  are  familiar  phrases.  To  see  one's  self, 
or  meet  one's  double  portends  one's  death.  A  Strassburg  man 
returning  home  saw  himself,  and  soon  after  died.  It  is  noted 
that  in  Alsace  the  occurrence  is  rare  compared  with  the  appear- 
ance of  a  man  to  others.  An  interesting  detail,  recurring 
elsewhere,  is  that,  after  seeing  his  double,  a  man  has  '  no  re- 
pose. '  8  A  question  implying  the  same  belief  was  put  to  Shelley 
by  the  lady  to  whom  he  confided  his  having  seen  his  double. 
Art  and  literature  are  full  of  examples  which  might  well  be 
founded  on  fact.  D.  G.  Rossetti's  How  they  met  themselves, 
and  Calderon's  Purgatory  of  St.  Patrick,  are  examples.  Sir 
Walter  Scott  observed  that  increasing  civilization  had  'blotted 
out  the  belief  in  apparitions.'  This  was  to  reckon  without  the 
phenomena  of  vision  on  which  they  depend. 

These  phenomena  explain  both  the  fact  of  the 
appearance  of  doubles,  and  also  the  pre-scientific 
theory  of  it  which  is  a  part  of  the  early  doctrine  of 
the  soul.  According  to  that  doctrine,  the  soul  is 
separable  from  the  body.  This  separation  occurs 
at  death,  and  may  occur  in  illness,  and  even  in  a 
mere  attack  of  fright,  in  sleep,  and  in  other  circum- 
stances which  need  not  be  considered  here.  The 
soul  is  more  or  less  universally  regarded  as  a 
material,  but  etherealized,  visible  duplicate  of  the 
owner,  whether  full-sized  or  miniature,  and  as 
constituting  his  life.  When  it  is  removed,  he  is 
either  dead  or  in  danger  of  death.  Primitive 
philosophy  would  say,  perhaps,  not  that  when  a 
man  dies  his  soul  departs,  but  that  he  dies  because 
his  soul  has  departed.  The  soul  of  another  is 
invisible  when  the  man  himself  is  seen,  alive  and 
well.  In  this  case  of  full  perception  there  is  no 
mental  image.  But,  when  the  man  is  not  per- 
ceived, the  mental  image  of  him  in  the  mind  of  the 
subject  may  suggest  possibilities  of  separation,  of 
division  of  personality.  From  another  point  of 
view,  the  man's  appearance  in  death,  sleep,  or 
illness  suggests  the  loss  of  something.  Here,  too, 
there  is  a  percept,  but  it  does  not  answer  to  the 
completeness  of  other  percepts  of  the  same  object. 
Thus,  whether  as  a  film  of  the  man's  outward 
appearance,  or  as  an  ejected  but  expansible  inner 
duplicate,  the  soul  is  easily  supposed  to  leave  its 
possessor.  To  the  former  view  correspond  those 
cases  in  which  it  is  said  to  '  loosen  itself '  from  the 
body,  to  the  latter  those  in  which  it  slips  away 
from  the  mouth  or  other  apertures.  Before  death 
the  Haida  soul  '  loosens  itself  from  the  body. ' '  Of 
course,  one  cannot  press  the  meaning  of  such 
descriptive  phrases.  But  the  fact  remains  that 
the  separated  soul  is,  when  seen,  a  filmy  double. 
The  general  belief  that  the  soul  is  away  from  the 
body  during  sickness  is  significant.  The  Chinese 
hold  that  even  in  a  fainting  fit  a  man's  '  soul  is  not 
united  with  his  body.' 8  The  '  other  self,'  netsin,  of 
Dene  belief,  '  was  invisible  as  long  as  a  man  enjoyed 

1  S.  Baring-Gould,  in  Sunday  Magazine,  1895,  p.  744. 

2  Sully,  Illusions,  p.  116. 

3  T.  F.  Thiselton  Dyer,  Strange  Pages  from  Family  Papers. 
London,  1896,  p.  160f. 

•1  Evening  News,  30  June  1899.  5  lb. 

3  A.  Barth,  in  FL  i.  (1890)  227  ff. 

7 G.   M.   Dawson,   '  Haida  Indians,'  in  Geological  Survey  of 
Canada,  App.  A,  p.  121  f. 
3  De  Groot,  i.  243. 


good  health,'  but  wandered  away  when  he  was 
sick  or  dying.1  This  account  is  very  apt  to  the 
point.  It  explains  how  the  spiritual  counterpart 
of  a  man  is  sometimes  described  as  invisible,  some- 
times as  visible.  It  is  invisible,  in  other  words, 
when  it  is  united  with  its  owner.  It  may  be 
visible,  to  himself  or  others,  when  it  is  no  longer 
united.  On  this  line  of  thought,  combined  with 
ideas  of  the  life-giving  property  of  the  soul,  is 
developed  the  notion  that  health  and  strength  are 
the  soul,  or  at  least  an  outward  show  of  it.  The 
Minangkabau  people  of  Sumatra  regard  the 
sumange  as 

1  the  cause  of  the  impression  a  man  makes  on  others  :  ...  it 
gives  strength,  Bplendour,  and  vitality  to  a  man's  appearance  ; 
it  is  expressed  in  his  look  and  carriage.  A  man  whose  external 
appearance  is  weak  or  sickly,  or  who  has  little  expression  in  his 
face,  is  said  to  have  a  feeble  soul.'2 

Similarly,  the  natives  of  the  Congo  identify 
health  with  the  word  moyo,  and  '  in  cases  of  wast- 
ing sickness  the  moyo  is  supposed  to  have  wandered 
away  from  the  sufferer.'3  The  Malagasy  supply 
a  complete  case.  The  ambiroa,  or  ameroy,  the 
'  apparition '  of  a  man,  is,  when  seen,  an  omen  of 
his  approaching  death.  But  this  term  is  also 
applied  to  the  soul  of  a  man  when  there  is  no 
actual  question  of  death  ;  for  instance,  if  a  man  is 
thin  and  does  not  thrive  well  on  his  food.J 

It  is  clear  from  the  above  both  why  the  soul 
should  be  away  from  the  body  just  before,  or  at, 
or  after,  death,  or  even  in  illness,  and  also  why  it 
is  then  visible  both  to  the  owner  and  to  others. 

The  double  which  appears  after  death  might  be 
supposed  to  be  a  duplicate  of  the  man  with  the 
marks  of  death  upon  him.  And  so  it  is  sometimes 
in  early  belief.  Thus,  among  the  Fijians  the  ghost 
is  decomposed;  it  is  the  corpse  'walking.'  But, 
with  natural  inconsistency,  it  *  can  eat  fruit,  drink 
kava,  throw  stones,  weep,  laugh,  compose  poetry, 
and  dance.'6  So  difficult  is  it  for  the  mind  to  get 
away  from  the  complete  idea  of  the  man.  In  a 
case  already  cited,  the  double  appearing  before 
death  had  the  marks  of  the  owner's  violent  end 
impressed  upon  it  proleptically.  But,  as  a  rule, 
the  '  spiritual '  double  is  the  exact  counterpart  of 
the  owner  as  he  was  when  last  seen.  Thus,  by  the 
natives  of  Paraguay 

'  the  souls  [aphangak]  of  the  departed  are  supposed,  in  the 
ethereal  state,  to  correspond  exactly  in  form  and  character- 
istics with  the  bodies  they  have  left.  A  tall  man  and  a  short 
man  remain  tall  and  short  as  spirits  ;  a  deformed  man  remains 
deformed.  A  kindly-natured  man  continues  so  in  shade-land. 
.  .  .  The  spirit  of  a  child  remains  a  child  and  does  not  develop, 
and  for  this  reason  is  not  feared.  .  .  .  No  punishment  follows 
the  murderer  of  an  infant,  nor  is  its  murder  attended  by  the 
ordinary  superstitious  fears. '  6 

The  Polynesians  were  familiar  with  apparitions 
of  the  dead.  These  appeared  also  in  dreams,  and 
their  '  shape  or  form  resembled  that  of  the  human 
body.'7  The  natives  of  the  Pan  jab  believe  that  'the 
little  entire  man  or  woman  inside  the  body  retains 
after  death  the  tattoo  marks  of  the  person  whom 
it  has  left.'8  Among  the  Nagas  the  ghost  is  'an 
exact  image  of  the  deceased  as  he  was  at  the  moment 
of  death,  with  scars,  tattoo  marks,  mutilations, 
and  all — and  as  able  to  enjoy  and  to  need  food  and 
other  sustenance.' 9  In  some  cases  the  disembodied 
'  soul '  after  death  is  distinguished  from  the  dead 
man  himself,  who  is  believed  to  'walk.'  The  Aus- 
tralians speak  of  the  ghost  returning  to  the  grave 
to  contemplate  its  mortal  remains.10  But  there  are 
cases  where  it  is  practically  the  man  himself,  re- 
vived and  as  he  was  in  life.    The  Ovaherero  believe 

1  A.  G.  Morice,  loc.  cit. 

2  J.  L.  van  der  Toorn,  loc.  cit.  v.  48  f. 

3  H.  Ward,  in  JAI  xxiv.  (1895)  287.  *  Ellis,  loc.  cit. 
&  B.  H.  Thomson,  in  JAI  xxiv.  (1S95)  354. 

"  W.  B.  Grubb,  An  Unknown  People  in  an  Unknown  Land. 
London,  1911,  p.  120. 
'  W.  Ellis,  Polyn.  Res.  i.  361,  397. 

8  H.  A.  Rose,  in  I A  xxxi.  (1902)  29B. 

9  T.  C.  Hodson,  op.  cit.  p.  159  ;  cf.  Kruijt,  p.  2S5. 
">  A.  W.  Bowitt,  in  JAI  xiii.  (1884)  187. 


B60 


DOUBLE-MINDEDNESS 


that  the  ghost  speaks  to  people,  drinks  their  milk, 
and  takes  their  food  ;  also  that  he  is  apt  to  seduce 
women  and  girls,  and  can  even  marry  and  live  with 
a  woman  without  her  being  aware  that  her  husband 
is  a  ghost. ' 

In  the  Gospel  narratives  of  the  appearances  of 
the  risen  Jesus  it  is  remarkable  that  various  tests 
are  employed  to  prove  that  the  form  was  no  ghost 
or  double,  but  the  Lord  Himself  (cf.  Lk  2439- 4S). 
A  test  frequently  employed  in  cases  of  the  double 
is  to  ascertain  whether  the  form  casts  a  shadow  or 
reflexion.  For  the  '  spiritual '  double,  being  itself 
a  sort  of  reflexion,  a  visible  but  '  immaterial '  copy, 
obviously  cannot  produce  a  reflexion  itself.  Hence 
stories  are  found,  the  point  of  which  is  either  that 
a  supposed  real  person  is  unreal,  or  that  a  real 
person,  casting  no  shadow,  has  ipso  facto  lost  his 
soul.  We  are  thus  led  to  the  principle  that  the 
'spiritual'  duplicate,  while  supplying  life  to  its 
owner,  is  'real,'  but  in  a  different  genus  from  the 
body  or  from  the  complete  person.  More  precisely, 
the  difference  is  a  question  of  degree  ;  the  dead  or 
sick  body  is  negatively,  the  life-double  is  positively, 
real ;  the  truth  of  both  is  the  total  living  unity. 

Most  significant,  perhaps,  of  the  phenomena  of 
doubles  is  the  fact  that  they  are  seen  just  before 
death,  and  by  their  owners  in  particular.  A  usual 
endowment  of  the  medicine-man  is  that  he  can  see 
a  soul  at  any  time.  But  this  capacity  is  often 
limited  by  the  accepted  principles  of  the  doctrine 
of  the  soul.  Thus  the  shamans  of  the  Thompson 
Indians  are  able  to  see  the  soul 

'  before  and  shortly  after  it  leaves  the  body,  but  lose  sight  of 
it  when  it  gets  further  away  towards  the  world  of  souls.  .  .  . 
When  a  shaman  sees  a  soul  in  the  shape  of  a  fog,  it  is  a  sign 
that  the  owner  wiil  die.' 2 

The  rescue  and  restoration  of  the  straying  dupli- 
cate is  universally,  in  early  culture,  the  business  of 
the  soul-doctor,  as  in  civilization  the  restoration 
of  health  is  the  business  of  the  physician.  The 
fact  that,  though  ordinarily  invisible,  it  is  seen 
away  from  its  place  of  location  is  the  best  proof 
that  its  owner  is  threatened  with  its  permanent 
absence.  This  contingency  receives  the  strongest 
confirmation  when  the  apparition  is  seen  by  the 
threatened  person  himself.  The  inconsistency  of 
the  fact  that  he  himself  is  still  alive  is  one  of  those 
which  cause  no  difficulty  to  the  unscientific  mind. 
The  soul  is  separated  from  the  body ;  that  is  enough 
for  an  absolute  proof. 

The  persistence  of  the  belief  in  the  apparition  of 
the  double  is  precisely  one  of  those  cases  which 
cannot  be  explained  by  any  theory  of  survival  or 
tradition.  The  belief  is  kept  alive  by  hallucina- 
tions, and  in  uncultivated  minds  by  the  normal 
phenomena  of  visualization. 

LlTERATrmE.—  This  is  fully  given  in  the  article. 

A.  E.  Crawley. 

DOUBLE-MINDEDNESS.-It  is  clear  that 
many  things  in  morality  and  religion  which  are 
censured  as  insincerity  and  hypocrisy  are  more  ac- 
curately describable  in  terms  of  double-mindedness. 
The  difference  is  that  in  double-mindedness  a  cer- 
tain fraction  of  the  entire  complex  personality — 
a  special  set  of  related  states  and  processes— is  so 
'  split  off'  from  the  rest  of  the  self  that  it  acts  on 
its  own  account  and  forgets  its  relation  to  the  full 
round  of  diverse  elements  of  the  ego.  In  cases  of 
hypocrisy,  if  such  exist,  during  the  inconsistent 
act  or  attitude  which  has  momentarily  taken  pos- 
session of  the  field  of  consciousness  there  is  a 
haunting  sense  that  it  is  not  in  harmony  with  the 
deeper-lying  currents  of  the  selfhood. 

I.  Pathology  of  the  sense  of  self.  —The  diseases 
conditioned  by  the  splitting  of  the  self  are  those 

1  Viehe  and  Palgrave,  in  South  African  Folklore  Journal,  i 
(1879)  656  ff.  ' 

2  J.  Teit,  in  Mem.  of  Amer.  Museum  of  Nat.  Eist.  I.  (1900) 
iv.  363. 


of  double  personality,  in  which  two  fairly  defined 
selves  in  turn  struggle  for  the  possession  of  the 
field  of  consciousness,  or  may  exist  side  by  side, 
each  more  or  less  ignorant  of  the  other  ;  multiple 
personality,  with  the  condition  just  described,  ex- 
isting among  more  than  two  split-off  parts  illus- 
trated in  the  work  of  a  skilful  hypnotist,  who  can 
call  up  in  turn  as  many  selves  as  he  chooses  ;  and 
alternating  personality,  in  which  the  two  or  more 
selves,  like  Dr.  Jekyl  and  Mr.  Hyde,  take  turns 
at  ruling  the  field  of  consciousness. 

Among  the  remarkable  eases  that  have  been  studied  are : 
Lucie,  Louise,  and  Leonie,  described  by  Janet,  L'  Automatisme 
psychologique,  1889 ;  Felida,  studied  by  Azam,  Hypnotisine, 
double  conscience  et  alterations  de  la  personnaliU,  1887 ;  Mary 
Reynolds  and  Ansel  Bourne,  cited  by  W.  James,  Prine.  oj 
Psyche,  1905,  i.  383  ff. ;  the  case  of  Sergeant  F.,  described  by 
Mesnet  and  quoted  by  Binet,  Alterations  of  Personality  (Eng. 
tr.),  1896 ;  '  Miss  Beauchamp '  with  her  four  personalities,  the 
subject  of  Prince's  exhaustive  study,  The  Dissociation  of  a 
Personality,  1906  ;  the  autobiographical  account  of  the  restora- 
tion of  a  personality  by  Beerf,  The  Mind  that  Found  Itself, 

1908  ;  the  instance  of  '  D.  F.,'  a  patient  of  Sidis,  reported  in  his 
Psychopathological  Researclies :  Studies  in  Mental  Dissociation, 

1909  ;  and  many  others. 

These  studies  are  in  essential  agreement  on 
many  points  in  regard  to  the  nature  of  the  self, 
and  throw  light  upon  the  milder  forms  of  double- 
mindedness.  The  central  fact  underlying  them  is 
that  the  conscious  self  at  any  moment  is  only  a 
small  part  of  the  entire  personality,  the  larger 
share  of  which  is  the  subconscious  self.  This 
sphere  of  the  subconscious  consists  in  the  sum  of 
partially  lapsed  memories,  plus  the  sum  of  dimly 
appreciated  instinct  feelings  and  organic  experi- 
ences, past  and  present.  The  elements  of  the 
entire  self  are  always  somewhat  imperfectly  knit 
together,  and  at  best  become  organized  in  spots 
and  sections,  as  determined,  for  example,  by 
harmonious  instinct  reactions  or  a  relatively  con- 
sistent set  of  vocational  experiences,  personal 
habits,  and  intellectual  interests. 

The  conscious  self  really  consists  in  the  drifting 
to  the  surface,  out  of  the  submerged  selfhood,  of 
certain  fairly  well  organized  cores  or  nuclei  of 
related  states  and  processes.  Self-consciousness  is 
potential^'  bound  up  in  any  and  all  of  the  ele- 
ments of  the  personality.  The  ego  is  not  a  fixed 
entity  that  stands  apart  and  watches  the  life 
processes  go  on.  The  self-feeling,  on  the  contrary, 
is  latent  in  every  psychosis,  and  emerges  when  any 
group  of  processes  is  sufficiently  organized  and  so 
far  intensified  as  to  form  a  warm  spot  in  the 
usually  somewhat  diffuse  group  of  experiences  that 
cohere  in  the  single  organism.  Whenever  such  a 
warm  spot  is  formed,  the  self-feeling  crystallized 
about  it  and  everything  else  is  sharply  severed 
from  it  and  stands  as  object.  There  are  in  the 
normal  personality  certain  deep-going  lines  of 
organization  that  are  fairly  constant,  and  give 
some  stability  to  the  selfhood.  It  is  shown,  how- 
ever, by  the  use  of  hypnotic  suggestion,  that  there 
is  no  part  of  the  personality  that  may  not  in  turn 
be  made  subject  and  object.  The  same  subject 
may  seem  to  himself  to  be  in  turn  king  and 
peasant,  preacher  and  humorist,  saint  and  sinner, 
child  and  adult,  kindly  and  irritable,  motor-  and 
visual-minded.  While  each  character  is  in  the 
centre  of  the  arena  acting  out  its  part,  it  gathers 
to  itself  allies  from  the  entire  range  of  the  self, 
and  works  them  out  into  seeming  consistency, 
and  is  entirely  oblivious  to  the  existence  of  other 
selves. 

Now,  the  condition  underlying  double-minded- 
ness is  that  two  or  more  centres  of  related  processes, 
or  selves,  may  drift  above  the  threshold  of  clear 
consciousness  in  rapid  succession,  while  each  is 
imperfectly  cognizant  of  the  other.  Indeed,  it  is 
certain  that  one  set  of  central  processes  can  be 
'  thrown  out  of  gear '  with  the  rest,  '  so  that  the 
processes  in  one  system  give  rise  to  one  conscious- 


DOUBLE-MINDEDNESS 


861 


ness,  aud  those  of  another  system  to  another  simul- 
taneously existing  consciousness '  ( W.  James,  Princ. 
of  Psych,  i.  399).  Let  us  represent  the  entire 
self,  consisting  fundamentally  of  a  mass  of  sub- 
liminal processes,  by  a  sphere  S.  Two  smaller 
spheres,  A  and  B,  within  the  larger  one  may  repre- 
sent the  integrated  nuclei  of  conscious  selves.  In 
so-called  normal  consciousness,  these  two  selves, 
A  and  B,  will  be  so  nearly  coincident,  due  to  the 
continuity  and  consistency  in  the  stream  of  ex- 
periences, as  to  have  almost  everything  in  common, 
M.  Although  the  quality  of  mentality  at  any 
moment  or  in  any  situation  is  different  from  that 
of  the  next  moment  or  situation,  so  that  A  and  B 
each  has  a  region  exclusively  its  own,  the  large 
common  ground  M  carries  over  into  each  successive 
state  of  consciousness  a  rich  stock  of  memories, 
and  accordingly  a  sense  of  personal  identity.  If, 
however,  in  an  impulsive  or  impressionable  person 
the  successive  consciousnesses  are  inharmonious — 
—call  them  A1  and  B1 — and  so  separated  as  to 
have  only  a  small  region  M1  in  common,  we  have 
the  typical  case  of  double-mindedness.  There  lie 
beyond  these  the  extreme  instances  described  above, 
when,  due  to  some  lesion,  or  to  hypnotic  influence, 
the  consciousnesses  A2  and  B2  are  so  thrown 
apart  that  they  have  no  background  of  definite 
memories  to  unite  them. 

Among  the  advantages  of  considering  double- 
mindedness  as  lying  in  a  progressive  series  between 
a  highly  unified  consciousness  on  the  one  hand  and 
alternating  personalities  on  the  other,  are  :  (a)  it 
is  normal,  but  may  become  pathological  ;  (b)  the 
progressive  decline  of  the  memory  of  other  selves 
in  pathological  cases  shows  the  distinction  between 
double-mindedness  and  wilful  deception  and  in- 
sincerity. A  rel  igious  enthusiast  and  propagandist, 
for  example,  impelled  by  the  combined  effect  of 
auto-suggestion  and  social-suggestion  may  at  other 
times  be  morose,  unkind,  and  even  treacherous, 
and  still  be  only  faintly  aware  of  the  incongruity, 
(c)  There  is,  however,  a  subconscious  interaction 
between  the  selves.  Binet  and  Janet  have  shown 
(Binet,  Alterations  of  Personality,  Eng.  tr.  New 
York,  1896,  p.  215  ff.)  that,  although  either  mem- 
ber of  a  double  personality  may  seem  to  be  entirely 
oblivious  of  the  existence  of  the  other,  there  is, 
nevertheless,  a  leakage  between  them  through  the 
deeper  strata  of  personality,  (d)  The  integration 
of  the  self  is  best  brought  about,  if  not  invariably, 
in  terms  of  the  subconscious.  In  chronic  cases  of 
double  personality  there  seems  to  be  no  way  so 
effectual  of  healing  the  cleavage  as  by  a  vigorous 
use  of  suggestion,  the  blending  of  the  different 
selves  into  the  deeper-lying  regions  of  the  sub- 
merged selfhood.  From  this  point  of  view  the 
success  of  religion  in  the  world  may  be  accounted 
for  by  its  consistent  appeal  to  the  '  divided  selves,' 
'  sick  souls,'  and  all  who  hunger  after  the  higher 
life,  that  they  renounce  the  lesser  selves  and,  by 
an  act  of  faith,  sink  them  into  the  absolute  right- 
eousness of  a  limitless  personality. 

2.  Sources  of  double-mindedness. — Whether  or 
not  the  self  is  fundamentally  or  transcendentally 
a  unity,  it  is  more  just  to  concrete  facts  of  the 
mental  life  to  assume  that  self -consciousness  is  in- 
herent in  the  separate  psychic  processes  themselves. 
Rather  than  try  to  explain  the  incongruous  ob- 
sessions of  the  self,  therefore,  it  is  more  judicious 
to  accept  the  multiplicity  of  streaks  and  strains 
that  inhere  in  the  same  personality  as  the  given 
fact,  and  then  to  regard  the  integrity  of  the  self 
as  a  selected  product  of  development.  Its  utility, 
let  us  say,  is  found  in  the  value  to  the  individual 
of  a  self-consistent  history,  and  the  increased 
efficiency  of  a  social  order  whose  units  are  some- 
what similar.  The  most  potent  fact  about  the 
self  is  the  constant  mutations  that  are  going  on 


within  it  (cf.  W.  James,  Princ.  of  Psych.,  chs.  ix. 
and  x.  ;  Bradley,  Appearance  arid  Reality-,  1897, 
ch.  ix.).  In  any  normal  individual  there  are  cease- 
less alterations  and  re-combinations  of  the  elements 
of  the  self  in  response  to  the  situations  that  call 
them  into  activity.  Each  person  is  in  turn,  especi- 
ally and  for  the  moment,  a  bodily  self,  a  social 
self,  a  courageous,  a  blushing,  a  righteous,  an 
ambitious,  a  passionate,  a  logical  self,  and  so  on 
through  a  long  list.  There  are  conditions  which 
tend  to  fix  these  various  selves  and  perpetuate 
them.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  the  fate  of  states  of 
consciousness  to  be  self-limited  in  proportion  to 
their  intensity.  To  see  with  rapt  interest  a  bit  of 
colour  harmony  in  a  landscape  is  for  the  moment 
to  be  blind  to  all  else.  To  feel  the  thrill  of  a 
heroic  encounter  creates  a  soldier  whose  heart  is 
closed  to  every  other  '  calling.'  The  laws  of  habit 
get  in  their  work,  while  vocational  activities  and 
the  fixity  of  social  customs  assist  in  building  the 
texture  of  the  personality  into  a  seemingly  con- 
stant and  consistent  type.  The  twists  and  strains 
of  split  personality  now  arise  through 
'  the  irruption  into  the  individual's  life  of  some  new  stimulus  or 
passion,  such  as  love,  ambition,  cupidity,  revenge,  or  patriotic 
devotion  '  (W.  James,  Var.  of  Rel.  Exp.,  1902,  p.  176). 

It  may  arise  from  an  enforced  change  of  occupa- 
tion when  the  cross  currents  are  aggravated  by  a 
psychopathic  temperament.  The  condition  exist- 
ing in  milder  forms  is  best  seen  in  abnormal  cases. 

'  A  young  woman,  early  abandoned  to  a  life  of  shame,  and 
later  placed  in  a  convent,  would  pass,  as  the  result  of  nervous 
disorders,  through  two  periods,  believing  herBelf  to  be  alter- 
nately prostitute  and  nun  ;  and  in  each  her  tone,  manner,  dress, 
and  speech  were  radically  different  and  appropriate '  (Baldwin, 
DPhP  ii.  285). 

One  of  the  chief  sources  of  split  personality  is 
the  difficulty  of  a  smooth  readjustment,  during 
the  growth  periods  from  childhood  to  maturity, 
to  the  new  demands  of  later  stages.  This  is  most 
marked  during  the  age  of  most  rapid  readjustment 
in  the  early  teens.  The  old  habitual  self  of  child- 
hood persists  with  great  tenacity.  The  instinctive 
uprush  of  new  life  floods  the  youth  with  a  feeling 
of  new  possibilities  and  a  sense  of  awakening, 
though  dimly  appreciated,  ideals.  The  struggle 
between  the  old  self  and  the  new  is  the  crisis  long 
known  as  '  storm  and  stress. ' 1  The  period  is  well 
characterized  by  W.  James  as  that  of  the 
'  divided  will,  when  the  higher  wishes  lack  just  that  last  acute- 
ness,  that  touch  of  explosive  intensity  .  .  .  that  enables  them  to 
burst  their  shell,  and  make  irruption  efficaciously  into  life  and 
quell  the  lower  tendencies  for  ever '  (  Var.  of  Rel.  Exp.  p.  173). 

3.  Double  -  mindedness  and  immorality.  —  It 
would  seem  that  most  blemishes  of  character  and 
nearly  all  misdeeds  and  crimes  might  be  traceable 
to  split  personality.  A  passionate,  shamming,  or 
partial  self,  either  too  callous  or  too  sensitive, 
loses  its  connexion  with,  and  setting  in,  the  full 
round  of  life.  Treacheries,  for  example,  are  the 
obverse  side  of  little  loyalties,  just  as  are  foolish 
loves  and  misguided  philanthropies.  It  would 
appear,  too,  from  the  stress  which  moral  codes  and 
precepts  place  upon  such  virtues  as  integrity,  sin- 
cerity, consistency,  temperantia,  and  the  like,  that 
the  normal  evolution  of  character  chiefly  consists 
in  the  straightening  out  and  unification  of  the 
inner  self. 

1  As  a  fletcher  makes  straight  his  arrow,'  says  the  Dhamrna- 
pdda  (33),  '  a  wise  man  makes  straight  his  trembling  and 
unsteady  thought,  which  is  difficult  to  keep,  difficult  to  turn.' 
Something  like  this  is,  apparently,  the  purport  of 
the  golden  mean  of  Aristotle,  the  middle  path  and 
the  will  of  Heaven  of  Confucius,  the  harmony  with 
the  universe  of  the  Stoics,  and  the  straight  and 
narrow  way  of  Jesus. 

The  danger  of  a  duplicity  of  the  self  has  been 
almost  universally    recognized    by  morality  and 

1  See,  for  a  description  of  the  accompanying  phenomena, 
W.James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  N.Y.,1902,  chs.  vi. 
vii.  viii.  ;  Starbuck,  Psychology  of  Religion2,  1901,  chs.  v  xii, 
xvii.  xviii. 


862 


DOUBT 


religion.  To  heal  up  its  ruptures  and  knit  the 
entire  life  into  a  consistent  whole  has  been  their 
heroic  task.  Two  extreme  methods  of  unification 
have  been  advocated,  with  many  gradations  of  the 
intermingling  of  both.  At  one  extreme  is  the 
Stoical  method  of  renunciation  of  everything  which 
can  disturb,  distract,  or  tear  asunder,  so  that  the 
soul  stands  undisturbed  in  the  midst  of  a  changing 
universe,  superior  to  all  things  in  life  or  death. 
The  opposite  method  is  to  extend  the  self  until  it 
is  at  one  with  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth. 
Since  the  self,  then,  is  at  one  with  all-reality, 
there  is  nothing  that  can  mar  its  serenity.  One 
can  distinguish  at  least  four  types  of  this  latter 
method  of  unification :  the  mystical  or  baptismal 
or  psychopathic,  which  would  bathe  in  a  limitless 
ocean  of  blessedness ;  the  rational  or  Socratic, 
which  would  rise  to  higher  definition  and  sink  to 
prof  ounder  insight  until  the  deeper  wisdom  catches 
up  all  virtue  into  itself  ;  the  aesthetic,  as  illus- 
trated, for  example,  in  Jesus,  which  is  guided  by 
a  warm,  refined  sense  of  eternal  values ;  and  the 
practical  or  '  tough-minded,'  represented  by  those 
who  gird  up  their  loins  and  preach  and  practise  a 
doctrine  of  utmost  consistency  in  thought  and 
deed. 

4.  The  value  to  morality  of  double-mindedness. 
—It  is  an  instructive  fact  that  the  biography  of 
so  many  moral  and  religious  geniuses  betrays  a 
struggle  between  the  cross  currents  of  the  self  in 
the  direction  of  good  and  evil.  Like  St.  Paul  and 
St.  Augustine,  what  they  would  not,  that  they  do, 
and,  when  the  impulses  lead  towards  the  higher  life, 
there  is  a  stubborn  inner  resistance  that  is  hardly 
overcome.  It  is  probable  that,  just  as  an  act  of 
clear  thought  is  bought  of  necessity  at  the  price 
of  severe  mental  tension,  so  a  world  of  clean-cut 
moral  values  can  exist  only  in  the  midst  of  con- 
flicting inner  impulses.  It  is  '  when  the  struggle 
begins  within  himself '  that  '  man's  worth  some- 
thing.' It  is  only  then  that  '  the  soul  awakes  and 
grows '  (Browning,  Fifine  at  the  Fair). 

'  Of  necessity  every  distinctly  moral  choice  involves  the 
previous  presence  of  a  certain  tendency  to  choose  the  wrong. 
Yes,  moral  choice  is  essentially  a  condemnation  of  the  neglected 
motive,  as  well  as  an  approval  of  the  accepted  motive.  Other- 
wise it  could  be  no  moral  choice.  A  being  possessed  of  but 
one  motive  could  have  no  conscience.  .  .  .  You  might  aa  well 
try  to  define  a  king  without  his  subjects  as  to  define  a  moral 
deed  without  the  presence  in  the  agent  of  some  evil  motive ' 
(Royce,  in  IJE  iv.  [1893-4]  57). 

If,  now,  in  the  midst  of  the  struggle  the  agent 
conquers  the  lesser  motive,  he  may  issue  forth  into 
a  complex  world  of  specific  moral  relationships  and 
corresponding  moral  values,  and  so  come  to  live 
victoriously  in  a  '  two-storey  universe '  instead  of 
floating  along  a  misty  stream  of  indefinite  experi- 
ences into  whose  gloom  the  light  of  a  bedimmed 
conscience  can  scarcely  shed  its  radiance.  The 
value  of  the  conflicts,  too,  in  the  social  order  has 
long  been  recognized  by  students  of  ethics. 

'  The  means  which  Nature  uses  to  bring  about 
the  development  of  all  the  capacities  she  has  given 
man,' says  Kant,  'is  their  antagonism  in  society, 
in  so  far  as  this  antagonism  becomes  in  the  end  a 
cause  of  social  order.  .  .  .  Men  have  a  great  pro- 
pensity to  isolate  themselves,  for  they  find  in 
themselves  at  the  same  time  this  unsocial  charac- 
teristic, and  each  wishes  to  direct  everything  solely 
according  to  his  own  notion,  and  expects  resistance 
just  as  he  knows  that  he  is  inclined  to  resist  others. 
It  is  just  this  resistance  which  awakens  all  man's 
powers '  (quoted  in  Dewey-Tuf ts,  Ethics,  1908,  p.  87). 

The  study  of  biographies  would  even  suggest 
that,  the  greater  the  number  of  antagonisms  and 
oppositions  that  play  against  each  other,  the  more 
is  the  personality  enriched,  if  only  they  can  be  so 
neatly  balanced  against  each  other  as  not  to  waste 
the  energies,  and  if  the  central  stream  of  life  is  so 
directed  that  the  habit  of  conquering  becomes  the 


habit  of  growth.  Luther,  e.g.,  is  an  instructive  in- 
stance of  a  person  containing  what  Ribot  (Diseases 
of  Personality,  Eng.  tr.  Chicago,  1895,  pp.  112, 
126  if.)  designates  '  successively'  and  '  even  simul- 
taneously contradictory  characters.'  He  was  jocose 
and  serious,  joyous  and  melancholy,  submissive 
and  independent,  active  and  meditative,  stoical 
and  sensuous,  warm-hearted  and  vindictive,  mystic 
and  hard-headed  organizer,  scholar  and  poet,  and 
many  things  besides.  The  intimate  relation  be- 
tween the  presence,  in  such  minds,  of  various  cross 
currents  and  their  moral  strength  is  probably  not 
an  accidental  one. 

Literature. — In  addition  to  the  references  in  the  text,  the 
reader  may  consult:  J.  Royce,  Studies  of  Good  and  Evil, 
N.Y.,  1898,  ch.  on  'Anomalies  of  Personality'  ;  B.  Sidis,  The 
Psychol,  of  Suggestion,  N.Y.  1911 ;  J.  M.  Baldwin,  DPhP, 
1901-2,  art.  'Personality,  Disorders  of' ;  D.  H.  Tuke,  Diet,  of 
Psych.  Med.,  1892,  art.  'Double  Consciousness';  Worcester, 
McComb,  and  Coriat,  Relig.  and  Med.,  N.Y.  1908 ;  H. 
Miinsterberg,  Psychotherapy,  N.Y.  1909,  pt.  iii. 

Edwin  D.  Starbtjck. 

DOUBT. — 1.  Definition  and  scope. — Doubt  is 
the  negation  of  belief,  the  condition  of  not  having 
reached  a  positive  conclusion  for  or  against  any 
proposition.  In  this  negative  nature  doubt  differs 
from  disbelief,  which  is  a  positive  conviction  of 
falsity.  Disbelief  is  a  form  of  belief  ;  it  is  a  belief 
in  some  proposition  which  involves  the  falsity  of 
another,  with  reference  to  which  the  attitude  of 
mind  is  called  'disbelief.'  We  disbelieve  the 
Ptolemaic  theory  because  we  believe  the  Coper- 
nican.  Doubt,  on  the  other  hand,  implies  no  such 
contrary  belief.  It  implies  suspense  of  judgment 
rather  than  a  positive  judgment  to  the  contrary. 
It  is  the  state  of  being  unconvinced.  In  this  sense 
an  agnostic  should  be  in  the  attitude  of  doubt,  lack- 
ing knowledge  (see  art.  AGNOSTICISM).  Whether 
there  is  ever  an  absolute  suspense  of  judgment 
may  be  questioned,  but  in  the  doubting  attitude 
there  is  at  least  the  absence  of  a  categorical  or  of 
a  settled  judgment  with  reference  to  the  idea  in 
question.  There  may  be  the  disjunctive  judgment 
that  A  or  B  is  true,  but  doubt  as  to  which  alter- 
native is  correct,  or  there  may  be  an  alternation  of 
judgments,  but  no  fixed  conclusion.  In  the  latter 
case  doubt  corresponds  to  deliberation,  although 
expressing  the  negative  element  rather  than  the 
consideration  of  reasons. 

As  to  the  objects  of  doubt  it  is  customary  to  dis- 
tinguish between  theoretical  doubt  and  doubt  as 
to  values.  The  former  may  concern  either  (1)  the 
evidence  of  sense,  or  (2)  the  truth  of  theories.  The 
latter  may  be  doubt  as  to  the  validity  of  our  (3) 
aesthetic  or  (4)  moral  judgments.  Since  religion, 
as  commonly  understood,  involves  judgment  as  to 
both  facts  and  values,  religious  doubt  may  be  of 
either  of  the  two  main  kinds. 

The  distinction  sometimes  drawn  between  uni- 
versal and  particular  doubt  is  a  verbal  rather  than 
a  real  one,  the  former  being  incompatible  with 
sanity  in  things  theoretical,  and  with  life  in  things 
practical.  The  conscious  life  is  essentially  an  active, 
assertive  process  by  which  objects  are  either  assimi- 
lated, or  neglected  for  those  capable  of  assimilation. 
This  limitation  of  doubt  in  the  field  of  knowledge 
was  shown  by  Descartes,  and  in  the  sphere  of  prac- 
tice by  Hume  (see  §  2).    . 

The  temporal  relation  of  doubt  to  belief  depends 
upon  the  conception  of  the  nature  of  belief.  If 
belief  be  taken  as  identical  with  the  instinctive  or 
immediate  reality  sense,  doubt  is  a  subsequent 
state  arising  from  the  conflict  of  primitive  beliefs, 
especially  as  involving  the  disappointment  of  ex- 

Eectation  and  the  checking  of  motor  impulse.  If 
elief  be  conceived  as  a  reflective  result  dependent 
upon  evidence,  it  is  subsequent  to  doubt,  and  its 
legitimate  outcome.  The  condition  of  doubt  lasts 
as  long  as  the  idea  in  question  fails  to  find  its 


DOUBT 


863 


place  relative  to  the  system  which  represents  for 
us  reality.  When  its  position  is  discovered,  the 
attitude  towards  it  is  one  of  belief — either  positive 
as  acceptance,  or  negative  as  rejection. 

The  resolution  of  doubt,  consisting  as  it  does  in 
this  determination  of  the  place  of  an  idea  relatively 
to  the  reality  system,  involves  the  exercise  of  will. 
Yet  this  volition  cannot  be  taken  as  a  perfectly 
free  or  arbitrary  action,  without  undermining  the 
whole  idea  of  truth.  Doubt  has  significance  only 
in  so  far  as  there  is  pre-supposed  a  system  of  con- 
ditions to  which  thought  must  adjust  itself.  There 
is  doubt  only  where  knowledge  is  possible,  for 
doubt  is  always  as  to  the  judgment  which  ought 
to  be  passed  if  the  purpose  of  thought  is  to  be 
fulfilled.  The  resolution  of  doubt  is  therefore 
never  a  mere  '  will  to  believe,'  but  a  will  to  believe 
what  conforms  to  given  conditions  of  belief.  The 
will  is  not  absolute  and  alone  in  belief.  See  also 
articles  Belief,  Faith,  Scepticism. 

Literature. — J.  M.  Baldwin,  Handb.  of  Psychoid,  1889,  ch. 
vii.,  'Feeling  and  Will,"  DPhP,  artt  "Doubt,"  'Belief;  F. 
Brentano,  Psychologie,  Leipzig,  1874,  vol.  i.  bk.  ii.  ch.  vii. ; 
G.  Vorbrodt,  Psychologie  des  Gtaubens,  Gottingen,  1895  ;  R. 
Adamson,  EBr$,  art.  '  Belief ' ;  W.  James,  The  Will  to  Believe, 
1897  ;  E.  E.  Saisset,  Le  Scepticisme,  Paris,  1865  ;  see,  further, 
references  below,  and  under  Belief. 

Noeman  Wilde. 

2.  The  meaning  and  value  of  doubt  as  influenced 
by  one's  philosophical  or  theological  position. — 
A  person  s  attitude  towards  doubt  and  his  con- 
ception of  its  meaning  will  depend  much  upon  his 
Ehilosophical  or  theological  point  of  view.  Apart 
rom  realism,  whose  psychological  and  epistemo- 
logical  ground- work  is  extremely  varied,  there  are 
at  least  two  general  types  of  philosophizing,  viz. 
absolutism  and  dynamic  idealism,  which  directly 
influence  one's  estimate  of  doubt  and  its  place  in 
the  moral  and  religious  life ;  the  former  tending 
on  the  whole  to  disparage,  and  the  latter  to  en- 
courage, it. 

(1)  Absolutism. — Those  who  hold  that  truth  or 
righteousness  is  of  a  fixed  and  changeless  nature 
fall  into  several  groups  with  a  variety  of  shades  of 
gradation  among  them.  For  our  purpose  it  will 
be  sufficient  to  mention  two  as  types  ;  {a)  rational- 
ists or  a-priorists,  and  (6)  absolutists  basing  their 
views  upon  Divine  authority. 

(as)  Absolutism  of  the  rationalistic  sort.  There 
are  those  whose  confidence  in  a  fixed  and  static 
truth  is  so  implicit,  and  who  believe  so  firmly  that 
this  truth  is  of  the  nature  of  pure  reason  and  can 
be  attained  through  a  logical  process,  that  doubt  is 
to  them  synonymous  with  ignorance.  It  means 
failure,  up  to  any  given  moment  of  time,  to  have 
discovered  the  whole  of  truth.  Such  an  attitude  is 
often  found  among  logicians,  mathematicians,  and 
theologians  who  have  built  upon  a  rationalistic  psy- 
chology, although  some  of  them  take  the  matter  of 
doubt  more  seriously,  if,  like  Plotinus,  they  have 
a  mystical  temperament,  or  if,  like  Augustine, 
they  are  oppressed  by  the  contrast  between  finite 
knowledge  and  infinite  intelligence.  Doubt  is 
sometimes  employed  systematically  as  a  helpful 
scientific  or  philosophical  procedure  by  those  who, 
like  Descartes,  use  it  as  a  means  of  sifting  out 
from  the  manifold  experience  the  pure  elements  of 
knowledge  that  are  changeless.  During  the  quest, 
rationalism  has  employed  doubt  consistently  and 
whole-heartedly.  Having  established  a  system  of 
truth  or  belief,  it  tends  towards  dogmatic  certainty. 

(6)  A  fixed  and  static  truth  or  righteousness 
based  upon  an  external  authority.  From  this 
standpoint  doubt  means  perverseness,  wayward- 
ness, or  even  sin,  and  is  dealt  with  by  disapproval, 
censure,  condemnation,  excommunication,  punish- 
ment, or  execution. 

When  either  of  the  types  of  absolutism  just  de- 
scr.V*-*  exists  in  its  relatively  pure  form,  implicit 


faith  is  demanded  within  the  range  of  the  firm 
foundation  of  the  system,  while  doubt  may  in  all 
other  matters  prevail.  There  are  many  also, 
among  Catholics,  Protestants,  and  non-Christian 
devotees,  who  accept  the  finality  of  both  reason 
and  authority  and  insist  upon  their  oneness.  An 
instructive  instance  in  point  is  the  case  of  Cardinal 
Newman.  He  says  (Gram,  of  Assent,  pp.  214, 146) : 
'  Now  truth  cannot  change ;  what  is  once  truth  is  always 
truth  ;  and  the  human  mind  is  made  for  truth.  .  .  .  once  certi- 
tude, always  certitude.  If  certitude  in  any  matter  be  the  ter- 
mination of  all  doubt  or  fear  about  its  truth,  it  carries  with  it 
an  inward  assurance  that  it  shall  never  fail."  '  The  difficulty  is 
removed  by  the  dogma  of  the  Church's  infallibility.  The  "  One 
Holy  Catholic  and  Apostolic  Church  "  is  an  article  of  the  Creed. 
It  stands  in  the  place  of  all  abstruse  propositions  in  a  Catholic's 
mind,  for  to  believe  in  her  word  is  virtually  to  believe  in  them 
all.  Even  what  he  cannot  understand  he  can  believe  to  be 
true  ;  and  he  believes  it  to  be  true  because  he  believes  in  the 
Church." 

(2)  Types  of  idealism  with  a  dynamic  or  develop- 
mental conception  of  reality. — This  philosophical 
position,  somewhat  older  than  Aristotelianism,  has 
arisen  with  new  life  during  the  last  century  and  a 
half.  It  has  been  steadily  undermining  dogmatism 
and  certitude,  and  not  only  accepting  doubt  as  a 
wholesome  mental  regimen,  but  interpreting  it  as 
a  necessary  and  intimate  part  of  the  growth  process. 
Its  representatives  may  be  separated  into  two 
groups  :  (a)  rationalists,  who,  like  Hegel,  abandon 
the  law  of  identity  and  contradiction  and  posit  a 
rational  world-consciousness  in  a  process  of  becom- 
ing or  evolution  ;  and  (6)  the  large  class,  including 
pragmatists,  voluntarists,  and  affectionists,  to 
whom  reality  seems  to  be  of  a  plastic,  non-rational 
sort,  which  the  thought-processes,  since  they  are 
its  products,  can  only  symbolize,  not  reveal. 

(a)  Hegel  may  be  taken  as  a  representative  of 
the  idealists  who  hold  a  dynamic  and  teleological 
conception  of  reality,  and  insist  that  the  '  cosmic 
spirit  unfolds  in  a  strict  and  vigorous  logic,  whose 
consummation  is  thought  of  thought '  (Cushman, 
Hist,  of  Phil.,  1911,  ii.  281).  The  absolute  reason 
proceeds  everywhere  and  always  according  to  a  law 
of  negativity — passes  over  into  its  other  or  opposite 
only  to  return  to  itself  enriched  by  the  contradic- 
tion. There  is  always  the  threefold  act,  whether 
in  the  personal  life  or  in  history — affirmation,  con- 
tradiction, and  return-to-itself  (the  thesis,  anti- 
thesis, and  synthesis  of  Fichte  and  Schelling).  The 
law  of  contradiction  which  formal  logic  and  static 
rationalism  respect  is  not  '  true,'  but  only  repre- 
sents the  second  step  in  an  endless  process  of  be- 
coming. The  unfolding  of  the  Absolute  must  of 
necessity,  and  by  its  very  nature,  have  contradic- 
tions within  it,  as  the  condition  of  passing  on  to  a 
richer  synthesis.  Doubt  in  the  individual,  there- 
fore, and  scepticism  in  history  (see,  e.g.,  Hegel's 
discussion  of  the  Sceptics,  in  his  Hist,  of  Philos. , 
1892-96)  are  not  simply  justifiable  on  account  of 
their  stimulating  and  intensifying  power,  but  are 
wholly  essential  parts  of  the  evolution  of  spirit. 

(b)  Non-rational  idealism.  Hegel's  philosophical 
justification  of  negation  was  but  the  formulating 
of  a  world-attitude  towards  the  value  of  doubt  that 
had  been  developing  during  the  Renaissance  and 
has  been  gaining  momentum  to  the  present  time. 
No  reference  is  here  made  to  its  value  in  the 
way  of  mental  clarification  and  as  a  means  of 
arriving  at  certainty  as  in  the  Yes  and  No  pro- 
cedure of  Abelard  and  Aquinas,  or  to  the  method 
by  which  Descartes  doubted  away  everything  pos- 
sible in  order  to  arrive  at  clear  and  distinct  ideas 
and  therefore  dogmatic  certainty ;  what  we  have 
in  view  is  rather  a  growing  conception  that  reality 
is  of  a  non-rational  kind  which  cannot  be  truly 
represented  by  the  cognitive  processes.  The 
thought-life  is  one  (among  others)  of  the  ways  in 
which  the  world  of  being  manifests  itself.  It  is 
epiphenomenal.      Its  reports  are  suggestive  and 


664 


DOUBT 


symbolical,  not  final.  Dogmatism  is,  from  this 
point  of  view,  no  longer  possible,  and  the  tentative 
reliance  upon  a  '  truth '  so  far  forth  apprehended, 
of  which  doubt  is  the  wholesome  sign,  is  funda- 
mentally justifiable.  Following  upon  the  acute 
scepticism  and  criticism  which  culminated  in  Hume 
and  Kant  respectively,  confidence  in  the  power  of 
pure  reason  to  transcend  itself  and  report  objective 
reality  was  undermined,  and  with  it  the  belief  was 
displaced  that  the  universe  was  constructed  on 
logical  principles.  The  conviction  grew  insistent 
that  reality  is  plastic  or  dynamic,  and  is  of  the 
nature  of  feeling  or  will.  Being  so,  its  meaning 
is  to  be  read  out  in  terms  of  feeling  or  symbolized 
through  ideation.  Illustrative  of  the  affectionists 
may  be  mentioned :  Kant's  faculty  of  taste  and 
aesthetic  judgment  as  the  synthesizing  principle 
behind  reason  and  judgment ;  Schelling's  notion 
that  ideas  have  not  logical  worth,  but  are  God's 
intuitions  of  Himself,  and  that  aesthetics  and  re- 
ligion contain  the  deeper  wisdom  which  will  resolve 
all  contradictions  ;  Schleiermacher's  doctrine  that 
religious  ideas  are  forms  of  the  manifestation  of 
religious  feeling  ;  and  Schiller's  and  Goethe's  con- 
ception of  the  '  Beautiful  Soul '  revealed  through 
*  disinterested  contemplation.'  The  volitionists 
are  equally  numerous  and  commanding.  Illustra- 
tions of  these  are  the  '  God-will '  of  Kant,  the 
'  Deed-act '  of  Fichte,  and  the  '  World-as-will '  of 
Schopenhauer,  with  his  teaching  that  Reason  and 
Idea  are  indeed  distorted  expressions  of  this  funda- 
mental world-will.  The  doctrine  of  biological  evo- 
lution is  a  concrete  form  of  the  prevailing  passion 
(which  had  possessed  the  best  minds  for  more  than 
half  a  century  before  it  was  formulated  by  Darwin) 
for  a  developmental  account  of  reality,  and  in  turn 
has  given  vast  impetus  to  the  conception.  Some 
of  the  modern  forms  into  which  it  has  become 
crystallized  are  pragmatism,  radical  empiricism, 
vitalism,  and  voluntarism.  All  these  give  up 
the  possibility  of  the  dogmatic  certainty  of  a  uni- 
fied system  of  beliefs.  As  summarized  by  A.  J. 
Balfour : 

'  No  philosophy  or  theory  of  knowledge  can  be  satisfactory 
which  does  not  find  room  within  it  for  the  quite  obvious  but 
not  sufficiently  considered  fact  that,  so  far  as  empirical  science 
can  tell  us  anything  about  the  matter,  most  of  the  proximate 
causes  of  belief  and  all  its  ultimate  causes  are  non-rational  in 
their  character  '  (The  Foundations  of  Belief,  365-6). 

The  attitude  of  all  these  towards  doubt  and  cer- 
tainty may  be  typified  by  the  following  from  W. 
James  : 

'  The  safe  thing  is  surely  to  recognize  that  all  the  insights  of 
creatures  of  a  day  like  ourselves  must  be  provisional.  The 
wisest  critic  is  an  altering  being,  subject  to  the  better  insight 
of  the  morrow,  and  right  at  any  moment,  only  "  up  to  date  "  and 
"on  the  whole."  .  .  .  "Heartily  know,  when  half-gods  go,  the 
gods  arrive."  ...  I  do  indeed  disbelieve  that  we  or  any  other 
mortal  men  can  attain  on  a  given  da}'  to  absolutely  incorrigible 
and  unimprovable  truth  about  such  matters  of  fact  as  those 
with  which  religions  deal '  (  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience, 
1902,  p.  333  f.). 

3.  Doubt  for  its  own  sake. — Most  writers  make 
a  distinction  between  doubt  as  an  end  and  its  use 
in  the  growth  of  knowledge.  Even  those  who 
justify  it  most  unqualifiedly  within  its  proper 
limits  condemn  it  just  as  cordially  as  a  chronic 
obsession. 

James  goes  so  far  as  to  observe  :  *  It  is  often  practically  im- 
possible to  distinguish  doubts  from  dogmatic  negation.  .  .  . 
Skepticism  in  moral  matters  is  an  ally  of  immorality.  Who  is 
not  for  is  against  .  .  .  in  theory  as  in  practice,  dodge,  or  hedge, 
or  talk  as  we  like  about  a  wise  skepticism,  we  are  really  doing 
volunteer  service  for  one  side  or  the  other '  (The  Will  to  Belieoe, 
1899,  p.  109).  Sir  William  Hamilton,  who  believes  that  'doubt 
is  the  first  step  toward  philosophy,'  observes :  '  Doubt,  as  a 
permanent  state  of  mind,  would  be,  in  fact,  little  better  than  an 
intellectual  death.  The  mind  lives  as  it  believes, — it  lives  in  the 
affirmation  of  itself,  of  nature,  and  of  God  ;  a  doubt  upon  any  of 
these  would  be  a  diminution  of  its  life — a  doubt  upon  the  three, 
were  it  possible,  would  be  tantamount  to  a  mental  annihilation  ' 
(Led.  on  Met.  i.  91). 

The  danger  of  doubting  is  not  only  that  it  may 
become  a  fixed  habit,  but  that  interest   >:..v  centre 


in  the  process  itself  as  severed  from  the  complex 
of  normal  mental  activities  and  healthy  enthusiasms 
and  become  a  mania  (doubting-madness ;  folie  du 
doute  ;  Griibelsucht).  Pathologists  have  accepted 
this  as  a  special  type  of  insanity  (see,  for  example, 
B.  Ball's  art.  'Doubt,  Insanity  of,'  in  Tuke's  Diet, 
of  Psychol.  Medicine,  1892).  Its  symptoms  are  a 
state  of  persistent  intellectual  unrest,  a  devouring 
metaphysical  hunger,  a  morbid  anxiety  for  mental 
satisfaction,  accompanied  not  infrequently  by  a 
Hamlet-like  paralysis  of  the  will. 

4.  Doubt  as  the  condition  of  knowledge  and  of 
its  growth. — The  dictum  of  Hamilton,  '  we  doubt 
in  order  that  we  may  believe '  (loc.  cit. ),  has  been,  as 
the  result  of  modern  psychological  analysis  of  the 
nature  of  the  thought-processes,  settling  into  a 
truism.  According  to  James,  '  belief  and  disbelief 
are  but  two  aspects  of  one  psychological  state  .  .  . 
we  never  disbelieve  anything  except  for  the  reason 
that  we  believe  something  else  which  contradicts  the 
first  thing '  {Princ.  of  Psych. ,  1890,  ii.  284).  Such  a 
conception  becomes  self-evident  through  an  analysis 
of  the  mental  conditions  involved  in  certitude.  This 
is  shown  even  in  the  simplest  acts  of  cognition. 
No  act  of  perception  would  be  possible  without 
selective  attention,  a  narrowing  of  the  field  of  con- 
sciousness, and  a  more  or  less  sharp  discrimination 
of  the  object  perceived  from  related  objects.  Such 
an  act  often ,  if  not  generally,  involves  an  artificial 
cutting  away  of  the  object  from  its  setting,  as 
hand  from  arm,  leaf  from  branch,  child  from  adult, 
day  from  night,  and  the  like.  Further  perceptual 
processes  almost  invariably  make  cross-cuttings  of 
these  cuttings  as  hand-wrist-arm,  leaf-twig-branch, 
normal-abnormal  child,  twelve-hours,  six-months 
day,  and  the  like.  The  growth  of  knowledge  con- 
sists just  in  the  healing  of  the  cleavages,  and  the 
organization,  through  judgments,  of  the  discrete 
elements  of  experience  into  wholes  after  they  have 
been  necessarily  severed,  as  the  condition  of  having 
clear  images  and  states  of  consciousness.  Without 
dissatisfaction  with  the  accuracy  and  finality  of 
the  discrete  perceptual  images  already  experienced 
(which  dissatisfaction  is  doubt  in  the  making),  the 
further  organization,  in  terms  of  judgments,  of 
which  knowledge  consists,  would  not  be  possible. 
All  the  higher  acts  of  conception  involve  similar 
discriminations  and  artificial  separations  as  thi 
condition  that  they  become  clear.  They  are  al- 
ways interested  in  a  part  of  experience  at  the 
expense  of  all  the  rest.  Then,  when  general  judg- 
ments are  formed,  it  is  inevitable  that  discord 
should  arise  between  these  and  each  and  all  the 
diverse  details  that  they  have  sought  to  harmonize. 
Wenley,  in  a  chapter  on  '  Pre-established  Discord,' 
has  given  a  faithful  analysis  of  the  principle  as  it 
concerns  the  limitation  of  science  and  the  behaviour 
of  scientists : 

'  Any  science,  that  is,  any  body  of  judgments  about  a  part  of 
experience,  becomes  self-centred,  if  you  insist  that  it  transform 
itself  into  a  rational  account  of  experience  as  a  whole.  Nay, 
it  majr  be  maintained  that,  precisely  in  proportion  as  science 
conforms  to  the  ideal  of  exactness,  it  declines  in  truth  when 
universalized,  just  because  it  is  able  to  grasp,  or  adjust,  indi- 
vidual cases :  advance  in  knowledge  depends  upon  aware- 
ness of  problems,  of  contradictions.  Science  as  a  process  of 
investigation  consists  in  an  effort  to  erase  these  blots  upon 
consistency'  (Mod.  Thought  and  the  Crisis  in  Belief,  pp.  200- 
210). 

Without  the  intensification  of  consciousness  re- 
sulting from  clean-cut  images  along  with  their 
often  necessary  distortions,  there  would  exist  only 
a  dim,  confused  state  of  general  awareness  or  a 
'feeling  of  simple  reality.'  All  belief,  in  every 
case,  has  for  its  criterion,  on  the  contrary,  '  a  feel- 
ing of  resolved  doubt.'  '  What  I  believe  has  its 
pros  and  cons,  and  however  vaguely,  still  really,  I 
am  better  satisfied  with  the  pros  than  with  the  cons. 
Now  for  the  first  time,  therefore,  we  have  W)l> 
'Baldwin,  Handb.  of  Ps  ch.*,  1889,  p.  158).     From 


DOUKHOBORS 


865 


such  a  consideration  it  is  evident  that  doubt  is 
bound  up  necessarily  with  any  act  of  faith.  As 
expressed  by  Ladd  : 

'  Skepticism  and  agnosticism  remain  legitimate  and  valuable 
(even  indispensable)  attitudes  of  the  mind  toward  all  the  objects 
both  of  knowledge  and  of  so-called  faith.  ...  To  doubt  and  in- 
quire, to  refuse  to  affirm,  and  to  deny,  whether  applied  in  the 
interest  of  conduct,  of  science,  or  of  speculative  thinking,  are  as 
essential  to  the  process  of  cognition  as  are  faith  and  affirmation 
of  the  most  positive  and  undisturbed  kind  '  (Phil,  of  Knowledge, 
p.  3(39). 

The  necessity  of  doubt  to  knowledge  arises  also 
from  the  retarding  effect  of  a  native  inertia  which 
causes  a  discord  between  thought  and  action  ;  and 
this  condition  is  aggravated  by  the  deadening 
effect  of  habit  and  custom,  which  must  constantly 
be  transcended  and  replaced  by  a  habit  of  growth, 
or,  in  other  words,  the  habit  of  readjustment. 
Foster  has  compared  doubt  to  the  moulting  of  a 
bird  by  which  it  accommodates  itself  to  the 
rotation  of  the  seasons,  and  to  the  process  of 
elimination  in  digestion.  Doubt  is  therefore  the 
'  purgative,  eliminative,  excretive  side  of  religious 
experience,  as  faith  is  its  nourishing ;  and  therefore 
we  are  saved  by  doubt  as  well  as  by  faith '  (The 
Fund,  of  Relig.  in  Man's  Struggle  for  Existence, 
p.  138  f.). 

5.  Development  of  doubt  in  the  personal  life. — A 
valuable  suggestion  as  to  the  place  of  doubt  in  the 
constructive  life  of  morality  and  religion  is  found 
in  the  fact  that  it  is  the  rule  rather  than  the  ex- 
ception, in  the  growth  from  childhood  credulity, 
imitativeness,  and  external  authority,  into  a  per- 
sonal grasp  of  spiritual  verities,  that  men  and 
women  pass  through,  usually  in  the  late  teens,  a 
stage  of  mental  perturbation,  and  of  inquiry  into  the 
groundwork  of  faith.  The  youth  '  turns  logician 
and  proves  everything,  and  accepts  that  only  which 
seems  to  possess  a  reason.'  A  study  of  biographies 
and  autobiographies  seems  to  show  that 

'  the  higher  life-purposes  develop  and  intensify  simultaneously 
with  the  growth  of  doubt.  .  .  .  Doubt  is  a  process  of  mental 
clarification ;  it  is  a  step  in  the  process  of  self-mastery ;  it  is 
an  indication  that  all  the  latent  powers  are  beginning  to  be 
realized '  (Starbuck,  Psychol,  of  Relig.,  pp.  233,  242). 

6.  The  cultivation  of  the  science  and  art  of 
doubting  judiciously  and  constructively.  —  The 
number  of  recent  sympathetic  discussions  by  psy- 
chologists and  theologians  of  the  meaning  of  doubt 
would  indicate  that  leaders  of  thought  have  come 
rather  generally  to  accept  a  constructive  inter- 
pretation of  it  when  kept  within  certain  limits. 
The  art  of  judicious  doubting  was  first  formulated 
by  Aristotle,  who  saw  in  it  the  golden  mean 
between  the  scepticism  of  the  Sophists  and  the 
dogmatism  of  the  popular  mind  : 

'  It  will  contribute  towards  one's  object,  who  wishes  to  ac- 
quire a  faculty  in  the  gaining  of  knowledge,  to  doubt  judici- 
ously, for  a  subsequent  acquisition  in  the  way  of  knowledge  is 
the  solution  of  previous  doubts.  .  .  .  They  who  carry  on  an 
investigation  without  doubting  first  are  similar  to  persons 
ignorant  where  they  ought  to  walk.  .  .  .  There  is  a  necessity 
that  a  person  should  be  better  qualified  for  forming  a  judgment 
who  has  heard  all  the  reasons,  as  it  were,  of  adversaries  and 
opposing  disputants '  (Met.  ii.  1). 

It  has  been  an  advance  over  even  that  great 
thinker  to  discover  the  necessary  relation  of  doubt 
to  the  acts  of  knowledge  and  belief,  and  so  to 
find  the  element  of  faith  which  lies  embedded  in 
'  honest  doubt,'  provided  one  '  clings  ever  to  its 
sunnier  side.'  In  this  view  doubt  is  an  index  of 
the  direction  in  which  life's  deeper  problems  lie. 
This  has  been  tersely  formulated  by  Royce  : 

'  In  these  matters  the  truly  philosophic  doubt  is  no  external 
opinion  of  this  or  that  person  ;  it  is  the  very  essence  of  our 
thought.  .  .  .  The  doubt  is  inherent  in  the  subject-matter. 
This  doubt  is  to  be  accepted  as  it  comes  and  then  to  be  de- 
veloped in  all  its  fullness  and  in  all  its  intensity.  For  the  truth 
of  the  matter  is  concealed  in  that  doubt,  as  the  fire  is  concealed 
in  the  stony  coal.  You  can  no  more  reject  the  doubt  and  keep 
the  innermost  truth  than  you  can  toss  away  the  coal  and  hope 
to  retain  the  fire.  This  doubt  is  the  insight  partially  attained' 
(Relit).  Aspect  of  Philos.  p.  229  f.). 

Literature. — E.  Zeller,  Stoics,  Epicureans,  and  Sceptics, 
tr.  Reichel,  new  ed.  1SS0 ;  M.  M.  Patrick,  Sextus  Empiricus 
VOL.  IV. — 55 


and  Greek  Scepticism,  Cambridge,  1899 ;  J.  Owen,  Skeptics  of 
the  Italian  Renaissance,  London,  1893  ;  J.  Cairns,  Unbelief  in 
the  18th  Century,  Edinburgh,  1881  ;  Descartes,  Discourse  on 
Method,  Meditations  ;  Hume,  Treatise  on  human  Nature,  In- 
quiry Concerning  Human  Understanding,  Dialogues  Concern- 
ing Natural  Religion  ;  Kant,  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  ;  Pas- 
cal, Pense'es  ;  J.  H.  Newman,  Grammar  of  Assent,  London, 
1870  ;  R.  F.  Horton,  My  Belief:  Answers  to  Certain  Religious 
Difficulties,  New  York,  1908 ;  G.  A.  Gordon,  New  Epoch  for 
Faith,  Boston,  1901 ;  H.  Van  Dyke,  The  Gospel  for  an  Age  of 
Doubt  6,  New  York,  1898  ;  W.  Hamilton,  Lectures  on  Meta- 
physics, London,  1859 ;  A.  H.  Lloyd,  The  Will  to  Doubt,  New 
York,  1908 ;  R.  M.  Wenley,  Modern  Thought  and  the  Crisis 
in  Belief,  New  York,  1909  ;  A.  J.  Balfour,  A  Defence  of  Philo- 
sophic Doubt,  London,  1879,  also,  The  Foundations  of  Belief, 
London,  1S95  (81901);  G.  T.  Ladd,  Philosophy  of  Knowledge, 
New  York,  1897,  ch.  xiii.  ;  J.  Dewey,  Studies  in  Logical  Theory, 
Chicago,  1903 ;  G.  B.  Foster,  The  Function  of  Religion,  Chi- 
cago, 1909,  ch.  iv.  ;  J.  Royce,  Religious  Aspect  of  Philosophy, 
Boston,  1897,  chs.  viii.  ix.  and  x.  ;  J.  Sully,  Pessimism,  Lon- 
don, 1877  ;  W.  James,  Principles  of  Psychology,  London,  1891, 
ch.  xxi.  ;  G.  F.  Stout,  Analytic  Psychology,  London,  1896, 
vol.  i.  ch.  v. ,  vol.  ii.  chs.  v.  and  xi.  ;  Knapp,  '  insanity  of  Doubt,' 
in  AJPs  iii.  1 ;  E.  D.  Starbuck,  Psychology  of  Religion,  Lon- 
don, 1899,  ch.  xviii.    See  also  Literature  appended  to  §  1. 

Edwin  D.  Starbuck. 

DOUKHOBORS  [in  pronunciation  the  k  is 
scarcely  heard,  and  the  accent  is  on  the  last  syl- 
lable ;  there  are  other  forms  of  the  name,  but  this 
is  the  form  now  usually  employed]. — The  name 
Doukhobors  was  used  at  least  as  far  back  as 
the  year  1785,  and  means  'spirit-wrestlers,'  as 
the  Doukhobors  claim  to  fight  not  with  carnal 
weapons,  but  armed  with  the  Spirit  of  Truth. 
They  regard  as  the  founder  of  their  sect  a  retired 
non-commissioned  Prussian  officer  who  lived  and 
taught  in  a  village  of  the  Kharkof  Government 
about  the  year  1740,  and  who,  it  is  thought,  was  ;i 
Quaker.  There  is  every  reason  to  believe  this 
anonymous  leader  to  have  been  a  man  of  high 
character,  and  devoted  to  the  service  of  his  fellow- 
men.  Towards  the  close  of  the  18th  cent.  Dou- 
khobors were  scattered  from  the  Volga  southward 
and  westward  over  Southern  Russia,  with  ad- 
herents in  various  other  parts  of  the  Empire.  The 
Czar  Paul  on  his  accession  adopted  a  policy  of 
toleration  towards  them,  but  changed  his  mind 
when,  in  1799,  some  Doukhobors  openly  preached 
that  rulers  were  not  needed.  Alexander  I.  allowed 
many  of  the  Doukhobors  to  come  together  from 
various  parts  of  Russia  and  to  form  a  settlement 
of  their  own  at  the  '  Milky  Waters,'  near  the  sea 
of  Azof  (1801-1824).  This  was  a  turning-point  in 
their  history.  From  being  a  religious  sect  held 
together  by  unity  of  beliefs,  anxious  to  propagate 
their  views  among  their  neighbours,  the  Dou- 
khobors became  a  community,  and  ceased  to  be 
propagandists.  During  the  same  period,  more- 
over, their  leader,  Savely  Kapoustin,  gained  such 
power  over  his  followers  that  he  could  declare  him- 
self to  be  an  incarnation  of  Christ,  and  could  claim 
for  himself  and  his  successors  Divine  honours ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  his  adherents  were  for- 
bidden to  acknowledge  that  they  recognized  any 
earthly  leader,  so  that,  even  to  the  present,  they 
endeavour  to  confuse  any  outsider  who  may  seek 
to  study  their  beliefs.  It  would  also  appear  that 
the  successors  of  Kapoustin,  all  of  whom  gained 
control  of  great  wealth  by  the  introduction  of 
communism  among  the  Doukhobors,  sanctioned 
the  assassination  of  those  who  opposed  them. 
At  all  events,  the  Russian  Government  made  a 
thorough  investigation  of  these  charges,  and  in 
1841  the  Doukhobors  were  banished  from  the 
Milky  Waters  to  the  Wet  Mountains  in  Georgia, 
where  the  wild  hill-tribes  were  favourably  im- 
pressed by  their  non-resisting  neighbours,  who, 
when  molested,  neither  retaliated  nor  sought  police 
protection.  There  they  led  a  prosperous  exist- 
ence, and  later  numbered  about  20,000.  In  1887, 
when  general  conscription  was  introduced  in  the 
Caucasus,  came  the  last  crisis  in  their  history. 
Not  even  the  power  of  the  whole  Russian  Empire 


866 


DOUKHOBORS 


could  induce  them  to  join  the  army  once  they  were 
persuaded  that  it  is  wrong  for  men  to  kill  one 
another.  Even  when  they  endured  it,  the  Dou- 
khobors  had  regarded  military  service  as  a  tyran- 
nous imposition.  Meanwhile  Tolstoi  and  his 
friends,  intentionally  kept  in  ignorance  of  the 
theocratic  claims  of  the  Doukhobor  leader,  and 
believing^ the  sect  to  be  merely  harmless  Anarchists 
of  the  Tolstoi  type,  became  interested  on  their 
behalf,  and  at  last,  in  1898,  permission  was  given 
them  to  leave  Russia.  Far  removed  and  destitute, 
they  suffered  much  until  rescued  by  the  united 
efforts  of  Russian,  English,  and  American  philan- 
thropists, who  came  to  their  assistance  in  defray- 
ing the  expenses.  Aided  by  the  Canadian  Govern- 
ment, 7363  Doukhobors  were  in  1899  established 
in  Canada,  leaving  in  the  Caucasus  about  12,000 
who  did  not  wish  to  emigrate.  At  present  their 
number  in  Canada  exceeds  9000.  The  welcome 
given  to  the  first  contingent  in  Canada  was  over- 
powering in  its  cordiality.  A  salute  of  artillery 
greeted  them  at  the  port,  and  the  railway  journey 
was  a  triumphal  procession.  They  were  in  Canada 
three  years  before  their  leader,  Piotr  Verigin,  was 
liberated  by  the  Russian  Government  after  sixteen 
years  of  exile.  The  Doukhobor  settlements  are 
situated  in  N.E.  Assiniboia,  about  a  day's  drive 
from  Yorkton  ;  they  stretch  still  farther  to  the 
N.E.  over  into  Saskatchewan  on  the  north,  and 
touch  slightly  on  Manitoba  in  the  east. 

The  first  known  leader  of  the  sect  was  Sylvan 
Kolesnikof  (1750-1775).  He  was  succeeded  by 
Ilarion  Pobirohin  (1775-1785),  and  he  by  Savely 
Kapoustin  (1790-1817),  the  founder  of  a  Doukhobor 
dynasty,  and  the  most  remarkable  of  all  the 
leaders.  By  him  communism  was  also  introduced 
among  the  Doukhobors.  He  was  succeeded  by  his 
son  Vassily  Kalmikof  (1817-1832),  and  he  by 
Ilarion  Kalmikof  (1832-1841)  and  Peter  Kalmikof 
(?-1864).  Peter  Kalmikof  was  succeeded  by  his 
wife  Loukeriya,  who  proved  an  exceptionally  able 
leader.  She  died  in  1886,  and  was  succeeded  by 
Piotr  Verigin,  the  present  [1911]  leader.  But  his 
accession  provoked  such  hostility  on  the  part  of 
an  important  minority  that  the  Government  was 
forced  to  intervene  and  to  send  him  into  banish- 
ment. From  his  exile  he  issued  mandates,  in- 
fluenced by  Tolstoi's  teachings,  which  seemed  to 
the  Doukhobors  so  severe  that  a  considerable  split 
took  place  in  the  sect.  In  consequence,  as  already 
noted,  less  than  half  of  the  Doukhobors  followed 
Verigin,  these  being  the  ones  who  emigrated  to 
Canada.  Besides  those  Doukhobors  who  have  been 
under  the  leadership  of  this  dynasty,  there  are 
other  bodies  scattered  throughout  Russia,  the  ex- 
tant accounts  of  whom  are  so  fragmentary  that  it 
is  difficult  to  present  a  consecutive  history  of  them. 

Their  history  shows  that,  unfortunately,  their 
ills  were  not  always  from  without.  They  did  not 
always  hold  their  faith  with  the  same  amount  of 
zeal,  and  it  is  a  history  of  constant  backsliding 
and  revivals.  That  these  revivals  were  due  to  the 
advent  of  some  worthy  leader  of  men  seems  clearly 
demonstrated.  Recognizing  the  Doukhobors  as 
morally  a  race  of  giants,  we  must  in  speaking  about 
them  acknowledge  the  clearness  of  their  perception 
of  certain  fundamental  formal  principles  and  the 
heroic  tenacity  with  which  they  have  upheld  them. 
The  sect  has  erred  and  split  in  pieces  in  the  past, 
but  the  validity  of  certain  principles  to  which  they 
have  testified  will  remain.  The  Doukhobor  state- 
ment of  truth  is  sometimes  calm,  moderate,  per- 
suasive, imparting  a  philosophic  truth  to  conven- 
tional phrases,  and  atall  dangerous  points  taking 
refuge  in  mysticism.  'At  times,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  is  clear,  resolute,  radical,  and  contemptuous  of 
all  authority. 

The  tenets  of  these  men,  who  will  not  acknow- 


ledge an  earthly  rulership,  may  be  stated  as  far  as 
possible  to  the  following  effect.  There  is  one  God. 
Their  leader  Pobirohin  in  the  18th  cent,  is  said  to 
have  explicitly  taught  that  God  does  not  exist 
by  Himself,  but  is  inseparable  from  man.  It  is 
for  the  righteous  in  a  way  to  give  Him  life — a  curi- 
ous doctrine,  perhaps,  but  one  which  seems  to  be 
the  mainspring  of  their  innate  character.  They 
explain  away  rather  than  affirm  the  doctrine  of 
the  Trinity.  Jesus  Christ  was  the  spirit  of  piety, 
purity,  etc.,  incarnate.  He  is  born,  preaches, 
suffers,  dies,  and  rises  again  spiritually  in  the 
heart  of  each  believer.  He  is  the  Son  of  God  ;  but 
in  the  same  sense  we  also  are  the  sons  of  God. 
The  inward  word  reveals  Him  in  the  depths  of  our 
souls.  It  existed  in  all  ages,  and  enlightens  all 
who  are  ready  to  receive  it,  whether  they  are 
nominally  Christians  or  belong  to  some  other 
religious  community.  Our  souls  existed  and  fell 
before  the  creation  of  the  material  universe.  The 
Church  is  a  society  selected  by  God  Himself.  It 
is  invisible  and  scattered  over  the  whole  world  ;  it 
is  not  externally  marked  by  any  common  creed 
Not  Christians  only,  but  Jews,  Muhammadans, 
and  others  may  be  members  of  it,  if  only  they 
hearken  to  the  inward  word.  The  Scriptures  must 
be  understood  figuratively  to  represent  things  that 
are  inward  and  spiritual ;  and  the  Bible  has  less 
authority  than  '  the  Living  Word '  (which  may 
imply  either  an  '  Inner  Light '  or  the  oral  teach- 
ings of  the  head  of  the  Doukhobors).  The  Christ 
within  is  the  only  true  Hierarch  and  Priest.  There- 
fore no  external  priest  is  necessary.  The  sons  of 
God  should  worship  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  The 
external  sacraments  have  no  efficacy.  To  baptize 
a  child  with  water  is  unbecoming,  but  an  adult 
baptizes  himself  with  the  word  of  truth  by  the 
true  priest,  Christ,  with  spirit  and  with  fire.  Con- 
fession is  heartfelt  contrition  before  God.  The 
external  sacraments  are  offensive  to  God,  for 
Christ  desires  not  signs  but  realities.  The  forms 
of  worship  of  all  Churches  in  the  world  are  in 
themselves  but  dead  signs,  mere  figures.  To  pray 
in  temples  made  with  hands  is  contrary  to  the  in- 
junction of  the  Saviour.  Yet  a  son  of  God  need 
not  fear  to  enter  a  temple  of  any  religious  com- 
munity. Icons  are  regarded  as  idols ;  the  saints 
should  not  be  prayed  to  ;  fasting  should  consist  in 
fleeing  from  lusts.  Marriage  should  be  accom- 
plished without  any  ceremonies  ;  it  needs  only  the 
will  of  those  who  are  united  in  love  to  one  another, 
and  an  inward  vow  in  the  souls  of  those  who  are 
marrying.  An  external  marriage  ceremony,  apart 
from  the  inward  marriage,  has  no  meaning.  The 
Doukhobors  hold  that  no  man  and  woman  should 
continue  to  live  together  as  man  and  wife  unless 
they  love  and  reverence  each  other.  They  wish 
to  live  up  to  their  belief  in  'peace  at  any  price '  ; 
to  go  to  war  is  forbidden.  They  refuse  military 
service,  which  was  the  cause  of  their  persecution 
in  Russia  and  the  reason  of  their  emigration  to 
Canada.  Taxation,  law  courts,  and  all  police  regu- 
lations are  condemned.  Commerce  is  despised, 
and  agriculture  should  be  the  great  source  of  liveli- 
hood. All  men  are  equal,  and  all  rank  and  power 
is  unnatural  and  mere  usurpation.  They  believe 
that  men  gifted  with  reason  should  not  use  violence 
against  others,  but  should  influence  one  another 
by  the  appeal  of  mind  to  mind.  Less  violence, 
crime,  vice,  poverty  (apart  from  the  effects  of  per- 
secution), superstition,  luxury,  or  wretchedness  is 
to  be  found  among  the  Doukhobors  than  among 
their  neighbours.  They  are  sober,  laborious,  and 
frugal,  clean  and  tidy  in  their  houses  and  clothing, 
and  attentive  to  their  agriculture,  which  is  their 
chief  occupation.  Those  in  Canada  are  almost  all 
vegetarians,  total  abstainers,  and  non-smokers. 
Under  their  present  leader,  Piotr  Verigin,  the 


DRAMA  (Introductory) 


867 


commune  in  Canada  appears  to  be  a  linancial  suc- 
cess. He  arrived  there  immediately  upon  his  re- 
lease from  the  Siberian  mines,  and  has  proved 
himself  to  be  an  eminently  practical  man.  The 
Doukhobors  adopted  improved  agricultural  ma- 
chinery, and  established  various  mills,  such  as 
Hour  mills,  oatmeal  mills,  saw  mills,  flax  mills, 
etc.  They  also  acquired  a  brick-  and  tile-making 
plant.  The  communism  of  their  villages  in  Canada 
is  centralized  so  that  the  communal  funds  of  both 
the  Doukhobor  North  and  South  Colonies  are  now 
all  under  the  control  of  a  Committee  of  Three. 
A  large  warehouse  for  the  distribution  of  goods 
among  the  villages  is  situated  in  a  convenient 
position  on  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway.  The 
Doukhobor  community  is  the  largest  experiment 
in  pure  communism  that  has  ever  been  attempted. 
The  Doukhobors  of  the  Prince  Albert  Colony  are 
more  individualistic  ;  they  do  not  hold  their  land 
in  common,  and  only  to  a  small  extent  co-operate 
with  the  North  and  South  Colonies. 

Previous  to  Verigin's  arrival  in  Canada,  there 
was  much  confusion  among  the  Doukhobors,  who 


were  too  ignorant,  under  new  conditions,  to  arrange 
their  plans  ;  and  even  after  he  had  come  there  was 
some  friction  with  the  authorities  owing  to  the 
Doukhobor  reluctance  to  recognize  any  allegiance 
except  to  Verigin.  It  is  about  this  question,  in- 
deed, that  all  the  trouble  of  the  Canadian  Govern- 
ment with  the  sect  has  centred,  and  in  consequence 
more  than  a  thousand  Doukhobors,  forming  the 
Prince  Albert  Colony,  have  formed  a  sub-sect, 
marked  chiefly  by  their  refusal  to  render  to  Verigin 
the  honours  to  which  he  lays  claim. 

Literature.  —  Orest  Novitsky  Doukhobortsi  ih  Istoriya  i 
Verooulchenie,  Kief,  1832 ;  Christian  Martyrdom  in  Russia, 
ed.  by  Vladimir  Tchertkoff,  with  a  preface  by  J.  C.  Kenworthy, 
and  a  concluding  chapter  by  L.  Tolstoi,  London,  1S97  ;  Peter 
Verigin's  Letters,  Christchurch  ed.  1902;  Obrashenie  Kanad- 
skill  Douhoborof,  Geneva,  1901 ;  Tolstoi  et  les  Doukhobors  :  /aits 
historiques,  collected  by  J.  W.  Bienstock,  Paris,  1902  ;  Joseph 
Elkinton,  The  Doukhobors :  Their  History  in  Russia,  Their 
Migration  to  Canada,  Philadelphia,  1903  ;  Lally  Bernard,  The 
Canadian  Doukhobor  Settlements,  Toronto,  1899  ;  '  P.  A.  Tver- 
skoy,'  Sew  Chapters  of  tlie  Doukhobor  Epic  ;  Aylmer  Maude, 
A  Peculiar  People :  the  Doukhobors,  New  York,  1904 ;  J. 
Gehring,  Sekten  der  russ.  Kirche,  Leipzig,  1898  ;  and  various 
articles  in  Russian,  American,  English,  and  Canadian  periodicals 
and  newspapers.  A.  A.  STAMOULI. 


Introductory  (L.  H.  Gray),  p.  867. 
American  (L.  H.  Gray),  p.  871. 
Arabic  (C.  Prufer),  p.  872. 
Chinese  (T.  L.  Bullock),  p.  878. 
Greek  (D.  M.  Robinson),  p.  879. 
Indian  (E.  J.  Rapson),  p.  883. 

DRAMA  (Introductory).  —  i.  Definition  and 
affinities. — In  the  most  primitive  sense  of  the 
term,  the  woTd  'drama'  denotes  simply  'deed,' 
'  action,'  as  in  jEsch.  Agamem.  532  f.  : 

.  .  .  Ilapi?  -yap  ouTff  (rvvTe\r)$  ttoAis 
efeux^Tai  to  opajua  to0  Trdflovs  irAeop, — 

but  before  long  it  had  gained  the  signification 
which  it  was  henceforth  to  bear  :  '  a  representation 
by  persons  (less  frequently  by  puppets  and  the 
like),  usually  suitably  disguised  by  dress,  masks, 
etc.,  of  acts  believed  to  have  been  performed,  or 
supposed  to  be  performed,  by  other  beings,  the 
efl'eot  often  enhanced  by  appropriate  scenery,'  etc. 
That  this  is  true  was  perceived  centuries  ago  by 
the  most  rigidly  analytic  of  all  thinkers,  Aristotle, 
in  whose  Poetics  tragedy  and  comedy  are  among 
those  arts  '  which  are  all  in  their  general  conception 
modes  of  imitation'  (irdoai  rvyxavovoiv  ovoai  /u/xr/creis 
to  o-tfcoW  Ji.  2]) ;  '  hence,  some  say,  the  name  of 
"drama"  is  given  to  such  poems,  as  representing 
action '  {69ev  ko.1  dpa/iara  KaXetodai  rives  avra  <f>aoiv, 
on  p.ip.ovvrai  Sp&vras  [iii.  3] ;  for  the  Aristotelian 
meaning  of  '  imitation '  ['  an  idealized  representa- 
tion of  human  life — of  character,  emotion,  action 
—under  forms  manifest  to  the  sense  'I,  see  Butcher's 
discussion  in  his  Aristotle's  Theory  of  Poetry  and 
Fine  Art3,  London,  1902,  ch.  ii.). 

"Whether  the  idealization  implied  by  Aristotle 
may  fairly  be  sought  in  primitive  drama,  or  in 
comedy  as  a  whole  at  any  period,  or  in  certain 
specimens  of  modern  tragedy,  is  not  beyond 
question ;  but  there  still  remains  the  fact  that 
'  imitation ' — and  imitation  only — accounts  for  the 
rise  of  drama  and  for  the  attraction  which  it  holds 
to-day,  as  in  the  remote  past  when  it  originated. 
To-day,  as  in  its  primitive  form,  drama  is  designed 
to  reproduce  events  which  already  have  happened 
or  which  are  supposed  to  be  happening  ;  and,  since 
such  reproduction  normally  requires  the  spoken 
word,  it  is  obvious,  as  Aristotle  already  saw,  that 
the  drama  is  closely  connected  with  the  epic  and 
the  lyric,  the  difference  being  that  the  epic  and 
the  lyric  require  only  the  spoken  word,  while  the 
drama  always  requires  action  and,  except  in  rare 


DRAMA. 


Japanese  (A.  Lloyd),  p.  888. 
Javanese  (L.  H.  Gray),  p.  895. 
Jewish  (L.  H.  Gray),  p.  897. 
Persian  (L.  H.  Gray),  p.  897. 
Polynesian  (L.  H.  Gray),  p.  898. 
Roman  (K.  F.  Smith),  p.  898. 

instances,  words  as  well.  These  exceptions  are 
formed  chiefly  by  the  puppet  plays,  or  marionettes 
(on  which  see  Pisehel,  Eeimat  des  Puppenspiels, 
Halle,  1900  [Eng.  tr.,  London,  1902];  Magnin, 
Hist,  des  marionettes1,  Paris,  1862;  Maindron, 
Marionettes  et  guignols,  Paris,  1900 ;  Rehm,  Buch 
der  Marionetten,  Berlin,  1905),  which,  doubtless 
originating  in  India,  have  spread  thence  through- 
out Europe  (finally  degenerating  into  the  '  Punch- 
and-Judy  show')  and  also  far  into  the  East  (cf. 
the  interesting  varieties  discussed  below  in  the 
'  Javanese  and  Further  Indian  '  section).  Another 
exception  might  possibly  be  considered  to  be 
formed  by  the  modern  'moving  pictures,'  but  these 
have  no  right  to  come  under  the  dramatic  category 
at  all. 

Drama  is  also  linked  to  yet  another  art,  the 
pictorial ;  but  the  imitation  by  means  of  pictorial 
art,  besides  lacking  the  spoken  word,  is  static, 
whereas  dramatic  art  is  continuous  throughout 
the  time  which  the  production  may  consume.  Far 
otherwise  is  the  case  with  two  more  of  the  fine 
arts — music  (whether  instrumental  or  vocal,  or 
both  together)  and  the  dance  (using  this  term  in  its 
widest  connotation).  Indeed,  so  closely  connected 
with  the  drama  is  the  dance  that  the  Skr.  term  for 
'  drama '  is  natya,  which  literally  means  '  dance '  ; 
and  even  on  the  modern  stage  an  entire  drama  may 
be  performed  by  pantomimic  dance,  without  the 
utterance  of  a  single  world. 

2.  Origin. — By  the  Aristotelian  definition  of 
drama,  which  is  neatly  epitomized  by  Suidas  and 
the  Etymologicum  Magnum  as  '  a  doing,  an  action 
.  .  .  and  also  those  things  mimetically  performed 
by  actors,  as  in  a  r61e'  (irolnp.a,  irpd.yp.a,  us  icai 
dptioai,  irpd^ai.  X^yerat  de  dpdfia  Kal  rk  vird  ru>v  BearpiK&v 
p.ipr/\uis  yiv6p,eva  ais  eV  viroKpioei),  it  is  an  imitation 
of  something.  The  question  then  arises,  Of  what 
or  of  whom  ?  On  the  modern  stage  this  imitation 
may  be  of  some  event  known  to  have  happened  or 
supposed  to  have  happened  in  past  time,  in  both 
cases  considerable  elaboration,  and  even  departure 
from  strict  historical  or  traditional  accuracy, 
being  allowable  to  heighten  dramatic  effect.    Such 


868 


DRAMA  (Introductory) 


a  drama  niay  be  represented  by  the  Herod  or  by 
the  Ulysses  of  Stephen  Phillips.  Or  we  may  have 
an  acted  imitation  of  a  purely  fanciful  series  of 
events,  as  in  the  case  of  the  greater  number  of 
Ibsen's  plays.  Yet  it  may  well  be  questioned 
whether  in  origin  the  drama  admitted  any  merely 
imaginary  themes.  This  is,  of  course,  a  subject 
upon  which  it  is  extremely  dangerous  to  dogmatize, 
and  our  knowledge  of  the  mental  processes  of 
primitive  man  is  by  no  means  sufficient  to  warrant 
hard  and  fast  conclusions. 

The  problem  with  regard  to  the  origin  of  the 
drama  is  here  precisely  that  which  confronts  us 
with  regard  to  the  folk-tales.  It  is  perfectly  true 
that  at  a  relatively  early  period  folk-tales  may  be 
told  for  the  entertainment  which  they  afford,  and 
in  like  manner  a  primitive  drama,  because  it 
chances  to  give  pleasure  to  its  spectators,  may 
come  to  be  regarded  as  pleasure-giving,  and  may 
conceivably  be  produced  time  and  again  for  the 
mere  purpose  of  pleasure.  In  spite  of  all  this,  it 
seems  to  the  writer  highly  problematical  whether 
any  notion  of  pleasure,  either  to  actors  or  to  spec- 
tators, was  intended  by  drama  at  its  inception. 
The  best  evidence  at  our  command  seems  to  show 
that  for  primitive  man  life  was  by  no  means  simple 
delight  or  poetic  outlook  upon  the  beauties  of 
Nature,  but  rather  a  matter  of  deadly  earnest,  a 
struggle  for  existence,  and  a  terror  of  mishap  of 
which  we,  in  modern  days,  can  scarcely  form  an 
adequate  conception.  If  such  was  the  case,  there 
can  have  been  scant  opportunity  of  amusement 
for  amusement's  sake.  We  have  no  right  even 
to  assume  that  the  few  carvings  of  primitive 
European  man  which  have  been  preserved  were 
made  by  him  for  his  own  delectation  ;  for  aught 
we  know  they  may  have  been  magical  in  purpose — 
the  figure  of  a  reindeer,  for  example,  being  drawn 
to  gain  power  over  reindeer ;  or  they  may  have 
been  historical — a  picture  of  a  reindeer  that  the 
particular  artist  had  either  tamed  or  killed  (cf., 
for  example,  the  American  Indian  'winter  counts'). 
This  is  a  conjecture,  but  it  is  one  that  must  be 
reckoned  with.  Again,  in  the  popular  stories  told 
as  fairy  tales  to  children  to-day  there  is  un- 
questionably present  an  element — and  that  element 
the  essential  one — which  was  once  believed  to  be 
no  mere  tale  to  amuse  an  idle  moment,  but  a  fact 
of  grim  and  terrible  reality.  The  story  of  Blue- 
beard is  now  a  common  nursery  story  which  the 
most  simple  child  knows  was  never  '  really  and 
truly  so ' ;  but  there  was  undoubtedly  a  period 
when  it  was  regarded  as  an  historic  and  awful 
instance  of  the  peril  of  broken  tabu  (see  CF,  ch. 
xi. ).  Throughout  their  history  the  drama  and  the 
folk-tale  have  been  interlinked  ;  and  in  India  this 
was  also  true  (cf.  Gray,  '  The  Sanskrit  Novel  and 
the  Sanskrit  Drama,'  in  WZKM  xviii.  [1904] 
48-54).  Perhaps  the  '  dramatized  novel '  really 
reproduces  at  least  a  portion  of  the  process  through 
which  the  primitive  drama  passed.  The  same 
principle  receives  another  exemplification  from 
children's  games.  Without  citing  the  mass  of 
American  Indian  games  to  which  Culin  (%4  RBEW 
[1907])  attributes  a  purely  religious  origin,  it  may 
here  be  sufficient  simply  to  allude  to  the  basal 
idea  of  the  English  and  American  game  of  '  London 
Bridge '  (see  ERE  ii.  852"). 

If  stories,  games,  and  the  like  were  thus  pro- 
foundly serious  in  their  origin,  may  not  the  drama 
have  been  equally  serious  ?  It  must  not,  of  course, 
be  forgotten  that  early  man,  like  all  his  succeeding 
generations,  was  an  imitative  creature,  and  that 
within  the  sphere  of,  everyday  life  he  may  have 
seen  happening  to  his  fellows  events  which  awak- 
ened either  his  concern  or  his  ridicule,  and  these 
he  doubtless  narrated  to  his  companions  with 
appropriate  gestures.     In  the  ludicrous  events  of 


this  sort,  and  in  the  rough  jests  on  his  fellows 
which  primitive  man  may  have  occasionally  per- 
mitted himself,  may  well  be  found  some  of  the 
germs  of  what  was  later  to  develop  into  comedy. 
Yet,  on  the  whole,  it  would  appear  that  drama 
took  its  origin,  not  from  the  imitation  of  men,  but 
from  the  actions,  whether  legendary  or  mytho- 
logical, of  far  more  worshipful  beings  than  men, 
that  is  to  say,  of  Divine  beings,  the  very  gods 
themselves,  as  comes  out  most  clearly  in  the 
masks  worn  in  the  Hopi  katcinas  (cf.  below, 
p.  871  f.).  Nor,  if  this  hypothesis  be  correct,  is  the 
reason  for  such  imitation  far  to  seek.  The  motive 
was  no  idle  one,  nor  had  it  merely  a  didactic  end. 
It  was  probably  rather  one  of  the  wide-spread 
manifestations  of  that  homoeopathic  principle  of 
primitive  religion  conventionally  known  as  '  sym- 
pathetic magic'  By  representation  of  an  action 
believed  to  be  performed,  or  in  past  time  to  have 
been  performed,  by  worshipful  beings,  it  was  held 
that  these  worshipful  beings  would  be  constrained, 
were  the  ritual  unerringly  performed,  to  repeat  the 
action  in  question.  The  drama  would  thus  be,  in 
origin,  a  part  of  magic,  and,  since  the  action 
represented  by  the  drama  would  be  desirable  to 
the  community,  and  since  the  chief  needs  of  a 
primitive  community  are  normally  connected  with 
the  food  supply  and  with  other  matters  more  or 
less  conditioned  by  the  powers  of  Nature,  there  is 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  earliest  drama  was,  in 
the  main,  associated  with  the  worship  of  Nature- 
gods.  The  theory  here  advanced  seems  to  receive 
confirmation  from  the  development  of  the  Egyptian 
drama  (see  ERE,  vol.  iii.  pp.  99b,  101  f.),  especially 
when  it  is  remembered  that  the  ancient  Egyptians 
were  singularly  tenacious  of  primitive  concepts  ;  so 
that  in  many  ways  they  recall  the  far  ruder  re- 
ligious principles  which  we  may  still  find  in  vogue 
among  the  African  Naturvblker.  Yet  more  elabo- 
rate is  the  drama  as  a  mimetic  representation  of 
the  acts  of  worshipful  beings  among  many  American 
Indian  tribes,  such  as  the  Kwakiutl  (Boas,  Rep. 
U.S.  Nat.  Mus.,  1895,  p.  500  ft'.),  but  more  especially 
the  Tnsayans,  the  Hopi,  and  the  Zufii  (Fewkes, 
15  RBEW  [1897],  p.  251  ff.,  SI  RBEW  [1903],  p. 
40 ft".;  Stevenson,.^ .ft.B£,J<F[1904],  pp.  66  ft".,  217  ft".). 
The  actors  are  masked  to  represent  the  appropriate 
deities  ;  and  so  important  is  the  connexion  of  danc- 
ing with  these  primitive  dramas  that  one  is  strongly 
tempted  to  seek  in  some  similar  phenomenon  the 
origin  of  the  designation  of  the  Sanskrit  drama  by 
the  simple  term  'dance'  (natya).  It  is  further- 
more noteworthy  that  in  the  Hopi  and  Zufii  dramas 
religious  ritual  and  mimetic  representation  are  so 
interwoven  that  any  strict  limitation  of  the  two  is 
practically  impossible.  Indeed,  Grosse  [Beginnings 
of  Art,  New  York,  1897,  p.  224  f.  ;  cf.  von  Schroder, 
Mysterium  und  Mimus  im  Rigveda,  Leipzig,  1908, 
p.  13 ft'.)  goes  so  far  as  to  declare  that  the  drama 
'  appears,  from  the  point  of  view  of  development  of 
history,  as  a  differentiated  form  of  the  dance. '  In 
this  connexion  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  Hindu 
tradition  declares  that  the  first  dramatic  representa- 
tions in  the  presence  of  the  gods  were  of  three  sorts  : 
nrtta,  simple  dance  ;  nrtya,  a  dance  with  gestures, 
but  without  words  ;  and  natya,  a  dance  with  words 
and  gestures  (von  Schroder,  p.  14). 

There  is  yet  another  vital  resemblance,  not  only 
between  the  American  Indian  and  the  Sanskrit 
drama,  but  also  between  both  these  and  the  Greek. 
This  is  song  normally  accompanied  by  instrumental 
music.  Without  here  entering  upon  the  theory 
of  poetry,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  observe  that  the 
poem,  so  far  as  it  relates  to  drama,  falls  into  two 
large  categories,  which  we  may  roughly  describe 
as  epic  and  lyric.  Epic  poetry  is  pre-eminently 
narrative,  and  originally  it  was  perhaps  simply  a 
rhythmic  narration  of  events  first  told  in  prose. 


DRAMA  (Introductory) 


809 


Lyric  poetry,  on  the  other  hand,  is  produced  under 
stress  of  some  sort  of  emotion.  The  outworking 
of  this  dramatic  use  of  epic  and  lyric  may  be  seen 
at  its  best  in  the  Greek  tragedians ;  but  in  the 
Sanskrit  drama,  on  the  other  hand,  although  the 
Hindus  were  well  acquainted  with  the  epic,  we 
have  what  is  in  all  probability  a  more  primitive 
type  than  the  Greek ;  for  here  we  have,  not  epic 
and  lyric,  but  prose  and  lyric,  and  the  Hopi  drama 
shows  that,  just  as  in  the  Sanskrit  drama,  the  lyric 
is  the  essential  portion  of  what  we  may  term  the 
text.  A  clear  light  is  thrown  on  this  matter  by 
the  Buddhist  jatakas,  in  which  the  essential  teach- 
ings of  the  tales  are  in  verse,  the  prose  being  a 
mere  expansion  of  them  ;  and  the  same  holds  true 
of  the  gathas  in  the  northern  Buddhistic  Lalitavis- 
tara.  There  is,  therefore,  much  to  be  said  for  the 
theory  of  Oldenberg  (ZDMG  xxxvii.  [18S3]  78-82  ; 
cf.  von  Schroder,  p.  4  fl'.,  and  Geldner,  GIrP 
ii.  29  f.)  that  certain  hymns  of  the  Rigveda  and 
the  Iranian  gathas  originally  contained  a  frame- 
work of  prose,  although  only  the  verse,  as  being 
the  most  essential  portion,  has  survived. 

We  have  seen  that  drama  is  an  imitation  of  the 
acts  of  worshipful  beings ;  and  this  implies  that,  to 
the  primitive  mind,  the  actor  is,  for  the  time  being, 
the  deity  whom  he  represents.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  only  those  deities  can  be  represented  with 
whom  the  actor  believes  that  he  can  become 
identified.  In  the  most  primitive  stage  of  belief 
probably  no  deity  would  thus  be  excluded,  but 
with  the  development  of  religion  some  Divine  beings 
assume  a  character  which  no  human  being  can  hope 
to  possess.  It  is  universally  recognized  that  the 
Greek  drama  was  closely  connected  with  the  cult 
of  Dionysus,  and  Miss  Harrison  is  doubtless  correct 
when  she  writes  (Proleg.  to  the  Study  of  Gr.  Bel.2, 
Cambridge,  1908,  p.  56S) : 

'  Surely  it  is  at  least  possible  that  the  real  impulse  to  the 
drama  lay  not  wholly  in  "  goat-songs  "  and  "circular  dancing 
places,"  but  also  in  the  cardinal,  essentially  dramatic  conviction 
of  the  religion  of  Dionysos,  that  the  worshipper  can  not  only 
worship,  but  can  become,  can  be,  his  god.  Athene  and  Zeus 
and  Poseidon  have  no  drama,  because  no  one,  in  his  wildest 
moments,  believed  he  could  become  and  be  Athene  cr  Zeus  or 
Poseidon.  It  is  indeed  only  in  the  orgiastic  religions  that  these 
splendid  moments  of  conviction  could  come,  and,  for  Greece  at 
least,  only  in  an  orgiastic  religion  did  the  drama  take  its  rise.' 

The  drama  falls  into  two  main  types,  which  we 
conventionally  term  comedy  and  tragedy.  In  the 
very  beginning  there  was  probably  no  such  division, 
for  the  acts  of  Divine  beings  are  in  themselves 
neither  tragic  nor  comic ;  they  are  events,  either 
desirable  or  undesirable,  and  consequently  to  be 
deprecated  or  sought ;  just  as  in  life  itself  grave 
alternates  with  gay — all  blended  in  one  whole. 
Yet  certain  events,  being  more  important  than 
others,  naturally  receive  emphasis,  and  certain 
seasons  when  the  primitive  dramas  were  presented 
lent  their  colour  to  the  mimic  action.  It  was 
particularly  in  the  spring  and  at  the  harvest  that 
the  more  joyous  element  was  predominant.  Many 
Sanskrit  plays  explicitly  state  that  they  were  pro- 
duced at  the  spring  festival,  and  we  know  that  the 
harvest  feast  was  the  time  in  ancient  Italy  when 
the  Fescennini  and  other  rude  folk-dramas  were 
enacted  ("Verg.  Ge.org.  ii.  385  ff.  ;  Hor.  Ep.  II.  i. 
139  ff.  ;  Tibull.  II.  i.  55  ff.  ;  cf.  also  Liv.  vii.  2),  in 
which  connexion  it  is  noteworthy  that  the  Fescin- 
nini  were  also  sung  at  weddings  (Catull.  lxi.  122  f . ; 
for  further  refs.  see  Teuffel-Schwabe,  Gesch.  der 
rbm.  Lit.5,  Leipzig,  1886,  p.  5).  The  Greek  word 
K-w/iwoi'tt  in  itself  means  simply  'revel  song'  (Meyer, 
Handbuch  der  griech.  Etymol.,  Leipzig,  1901-2, 
ii.  345),  and  Aristotle  was,  therefore,  right  when 
he  said  that  comedy  originated  from  the  leaders  of 
phallic  songs  {Poet.  iv.  12).  Every  trait  of  comedy 
points  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  a  manifesta- 
tion of  happiness  at  the  re-juvenation  and  re-birth 
of  Nature,  and  an  expression  of  joy  that  Nature 


had  given  birth  to  the  crops :  but,  by  the  wanton 
and  even  indecent  spirit  which  this  joy  often  ex- 
cited, it  was  doubtless  believed  that,  through  the 
principle  of  sympathetic  magic,  a  genesiac  energy 
would  be  inspired  in  the  Divine  wedlock  of  heaven 
and  earth,  that  similar,  and  even  richer,  fertility 
might  be  experienced  in  seasons  to  come.  It  is 
evident  that  what  we  call  indecency  must  not  be 
regarded  as  a  primitive  motive  of  comedy  at  its 
beginning  ;  yet  it  must  be  confessed  that  libidinous 
pleasure  was  doubtless  aroused  by  witnessing  or 
taking  part  in  these  comedies.  With  increasing 
f orgetfulness  of  the  primary  purpose  of  the  comedy, 
the  salacity  which  had  at  first  been  a  mere  incident, 
and  designed  (from  the  point  of  view  of  primitive 
man)  for  a  good  and  desirable  end,  came  to  be  the 
dominating  motive  ;  and  it  is  the  indecency  of  the 
comedy  that  accounts  for  many  of  the  protests 
which,  from  the  days  of  Tertullian  to  the  present 
time,  have  been  levelled  with  only  too  much 
justice  against  the  entire  drama. 

Far  different,  in  all  probability,  was  the  origin 
of  the  second  great  type  of  the  drama — tragedy. 
It  is  true  that  this,  as  well  as  comedy,  has  been 
derived  by  more  than  one  classical  scholar  from 
the  same  source — the  worship  of  Dionysus  (Harri- 
son, p.  568  ff.  ;  Grnppe,  Gr.  Mythol.  und  Religions- 
gesch.,  Munich,  1906,  p.  1436;  Farnell,  CGS  v. 
229  ff. ) ;  but  this  theory  rests  on  slender  evidence. 
It  is  far  more  probable  to  suppose,  with  Crusius 
(Preuss.  Jahrbucher,  lxxiv.  [1S93]  394),  Hirt  (Indo- 
germanen,  Strassburg,  1905-7,  pp.  477  f.,  727),  and 
Ridgeway  (address  before  the  Hellenic  Society,  3rd 
May  1904  [cf.  Athenceum,  no.  3995,  p.  660],  and 
especially  in  his  Origin  of  Tragedy,  Cambridge, 
1910  [see  esp.  eh.  i.]),  that  the  ultimate  source  of 
tragedy  was  in  the  funeral  songs  and  funeral  games 
celebrated  in  honour  of  deceased  heroes,  the  whole 
being  performed  to  honour  and  appease  the  dead. 
A  noteworthy  instance  here  was  the  case  of  Adras- 
tus,  a  hero-king  of  Sikyon,  where  his  T)p$ov  stood 
in  the  market-place.  Regarding  him,  Herodotus 
(v.  67)  writes  that 

'  the  Sikyonians  were  wont  especially  greatly  to  honour  Adras- 
tus.  .  .  .  Both  in  other  respects  the  Sikyonians  honoured 
Adrastus,  and  in  addition  they  celebrated  his  misfortunes  by 
tragic  choruses  (ri  7ra0ea  avrov  rpayu(oi<ri  xopouri  eye'paioe),  not 
honouring  Dionysus,  but  Adrastus.  But  Cleisthenes  gave  away 
(aWSwKe ;  for  the  force  of  this  verb,  see  Ridgeway,  Tragedy, 
p.  28 ff.,  and  cf.  the  parallel  aTreAo/xevos  eSa>«e  in  this  same  pass- 
age) the  choruses  to  Dionysus,  and  the  rest  of  the  sacrifice  to 
Melanippos.' 

This  theory  finds  a  support  in  the  hypothesis  of 
Hazeu,  to  be  cited  below  (p.  896),  that  the  Java- 
nese wayang  was  originally  a  form  of  ancestor- 
worship  ;  and  Forster  (Reise  um  die  Welt,  ed. 
Leipzig,  1843,  i.  330  f.)  saw  primitive  dramas  pro- 
duced at  funeral  feasts  on  the  Society  Islands. 

Here,  at  a  funeral,  two  young  girls  danced  to  the  music  of 
three  drums,  and'zwischen  den  Acten  fiihrten  drei  Mannsleute 
ein  pantomimisches  Drama  auf,  in  welchem  schlafende  Reisende 
vorgestellt  wurden,  denen  einige  Diebe  mit  grosser  Geschick- 
lichkeit  die  Bagage  wegstahlen,  unerachtet  sich  jene,  grosserer 
Sicherheit  wegen,  rund  um  dieselbe  herum  gelegt  hatten.' 

A  further  confirmation  of  the  theory  here  advo- 
cated appears  to  lie  in  the  essentially  epic  move- 
ment of  the  action  of  the  Greek  tragedy,  and  there 
may  be  more  meaning  than  is  commonly  supposed  in 
Plato's  characterization  of  Homer  {Thewtet.  152  E) 
as  'the  foremost  poet  of  tragedy.'  In  fact,  there 
seems  to  the  writer  to  be  scant  reason  for  connect- 
ing the  rise  of  Greek  tragedy  with  the  worship 
of  Dionysus,  who  was  essentially  a  revel  god,  or, 
indeed,  with  any  other  specific  Greek  deity.  Pri- 
marily the  son  of  Semele,  an  ancient  Thracian 
goddess  of  Mother  Earth,  Dionysus  was,  it  is  true, 
later  identified  with  Attis,  Adonis,  and  Osiris, 
and  in  an  obvious  way  he  was  regarded  also  as  a 
chthonic  deity  and  as  releasing  from  the  under 
world  (see  the  full  discussions  in  Harrison,  ch. 
viii.  ;  Gruppe,  pp.  1407-1440;  CGS  v.  eh.  v.);  bu» 


870 


DRAMA  (Introductory) 


all  this  seems  scarcely  sufficient  to  account  for  the 
rise  of  tragedy  from  this  cult,  whereas,  on  the  prin- 
ciples set  forth  above,  his  connexion  with  comedy 
is  readily  explicable.  At  most  his  association  with 
tragedy  rests  on  the  slender  logic  that,  since  comedy 
was  (reasonably  enough)  connected  with  his  cult 
as  a  Nature-deity,  and  since  tragedy,  like  comedy, 
was  a  division  of  drama,  therefore  tragedy  also 
must  be  associated  with  him.  Cf.  and  ct.  the 
'  Greek '  art.  below. 

Ib  this  connexion  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  consider  the 
original  meaning;  of  the  word  '  tragedy,'  which  the  writer  hopes 
to  discuss  in  fuller  detail  in  the  more  appropriate  pages  of  a 
technical  philological  journal,  giving  merely  his  summarized 
conclusions  here.  The  conventional  derivation  of  rpaywdia  from 
rpa-yo?  +  uSy,  '  goat-song,'  while  possible  so  far  as  mere  phon- 
ology and  noun-composition  are  concerned,  has  long  been  felt  to 
be  unsatisfactory  on  any  of  the  theories  (1)  that  a  goat  was  the 
prize  for  the  best  performance ;  (2)  that  a  goat  was  sacrificed  at 
or  during  the  performance  of  the  play ;  or  (3)  that  the  actors 
were  dressed  in  goat-skins.  It  has  accordingly  been  supposed 
by  Miss  Harrison  (most  recently  in  Proleg.  p.  420  f.)  that 
tragedy  really  means  '  spelt-song '  (from  rpayos  in  its  meaning 
of  'a  mess  of  groats  made  of  wheat,  spelt,'  etc.).  This,  how- 
ever, seems  little  more  satisfactory  on  the  score  of  semasiology. 
Since  comedy  is  repeatedly  contrasted  with  tragedy,  and  since 

*  comedy '  almost  certainly  means,  as  alread}'  noted,  '  revel  song,' 
one  would  expect '  tragedy '  to  have  some  meaning  antithetic  to 

*  comedy.'  If,  then,  in  view  of  the  unsatisfactory  derivations 
commonly  assigned  to  the  word,  we  may  resort  to  the  principles 
of  comparative  philology  for  a  solution,  it  may  be  suggested 
that  the  first  part  of  rpa-vwSta,  rpcryo-  (the  second  part,  tiSi'a, 
plainly  means  'singing'),  is'  etymologically  connected  with  O. 
Norse  prefer,  'strength,  courage,  daring,'  Anglo-Saxon  pracu, 
'  attack,  fury,  conflict,  pressure '  (for  further,  less  certain,  cog- 
nates, reference  may  be  made  to  the  projected  article).  This 
would  be  the  second  full  grade  of  the  Indo-Germanic  base  *tereg, 
and  the  base  meaning  appears  to  be  '  mighty,  bold,  terrible,'  or 
the  like.  On  this  hypothesis,  the  meaning  of  rpayyoCa  would 
be  'the  singing  of  bold  (or  terrible)  things' — a  signification  that 
would  not  only  contrast  admirably  with  the  'revel  song,' but 
would  also  correspond  with  all  known  characteristics  of  the 
tragedy,  as  well  as  harmonize  with  the  theory  of  the  origin  of 
this  type  of  drama  favoured  in  this  article,  that  it  was  primarily 
connected  with  the  funeral  rites  of  deceased  heroes  (cf.  also 
the  noteworthy  passage  of  the  Etymologicum  Gudianum,  s.v. 

KtofuoSia '.  Kuifj.w5ia.  rpayiu5ia;  5ta<pe*pet*  Ku^tuSta  yap  cart  /3(  w 
tikCjv  irpayfiaTuiv  S«JJy7?°'ls'  TpaywSia  5e  rjpuiiKuv  naduiv). 

The  original  functions  of  the  drama,  as  here  out- 
lined, were  soon  obscured  among  all  those  peoples, 
as  the  Greeks  and  Hindus,  with  whom  it  became 
a  distinct  form  of  literature  and  amusement.  The 
two  features  which  now  became  prominent,  and 
which  have  remained  the  most  important  ever 
since,  were  the  light  vein  of  comedy  and  the  heavy 
vein  of  tragedy,  while  the  religious  foundation 
survived  only  in  isolated  and  obscure  fragments. 
Thus  comedy  became,  as  with  Aristophanes,  a 
means  of  satire,  whether  of  the  '  suffragettes '  of 
his  day  (as  in  the  Ecclesiazusce)  or  of  the  radi- 
calism of  Euripides,  whom  he  lashed,  and  with 
very  good  reason.  With  the  rise  of  the  '  New 
Comedy,'  as  represented  by  the  fragments  of 
Menander  and,  most  fully,  by  Plautus  and  Ter- 
ence, we  have  a  comedy  of  manners  which  finds 
its  analogues  in  many  of  the  better-class  comedies 
of  the  present  day.  India  is  conspicuous  for  having 
no  tragedy,  though  there  are  scenes,  as  in  the 
Nagananda  and  the  Mdlatimddhava,  which  closely 
approach  the  tragic,  just  as  in  our  melodrama. 

3.  Divisions. — It  seems  scarcely  necessary  to 
enter  here  into  a  discussion  of  all  the  possible  sub- 
divisions of  the  drama,  whether  of  Polonius's  '  tra- 
gedy, comedy,  history,  pastoral,  pastoral-comical, 
historical -pastoral,  tragical -historical,  tragical - 
comieal-historical-pastoral,'  of  the  minute  Skr. 
classification  into  ten  '  forms '  (rupakas)  and  eigh- 
teen '  sub-forms '  (uparupakas ;  see  Levi,  Tht&tre 
indien,  Paris,  1890,  i.  140  ff.),  or  of  the  more  tech- 
nical division  into  classic  and  romantic  tragedy, 
romantic  drama,  melodrama,  emotional  drama, 
spectacular  drama,  musical  drama,  classic  and 
romantic  comedy,  comedy  of  manners,  farce,  bur- 
lesque, burletta,  comedietta,  and  vaudeville  (Hen- 
nequin,  Art  of  Playwriting,  New  York,  1890, 
chs.  vii-ix.);   nor  is  it  needful  to  consider  the 


problems  of  the  unities,  climaxes,  catastrophes, 
scenery,  '  business,'  and  the  like.  It  is,  however, 
worth  while  to  note  two  forms  of  drama — opera, 
and  the  morality.  The  opera,  which  is  a  drama 
accompanied  by  music,  and  often  by  an  elaborate 
ballet,  is  a  survival  of  the  very  primitive  type  in 
which  the  dialogue  was  regularly  associated  with 
instrumental  and  vocal  music  and  with  dancing ; 
and  the  writer  has  elsewhere  ventured  to  suggest 
that  the  whole  Sanskrit  drama  '  is  to  be  compared 
with  an  opera  rather  than  with  a  play'  (JAOS 
xxvii.  [1906]  5).  The  other  type  of  play,  the 
morality,  is  of  particular  value  for  the  student  of 
religion,  for  in  it  there  is  a  deliberate  effort  to 
present,  under  allegorical  form,  a  distinct  moral 
or  religious  teaching.  This  form  of  play,  to  which 
more  special  attention  will  be  given  in  art.  MIRACLE 
PLAYS,  is  found  not  only  in  Europe,  but  also  in 
India,  as  is  evinced  by  the  Skr.  Prabodhachandro- 
daya  ('  Rise  of  the  Moon  of  Intellect,'  tr.  J.  Taylor, 
Bombay,  1812,  31893);  and  that  the  morality  has 
not  ceased  to  charm  in  our  own  day  is  shown  by  the 
welcome  accorded,  both  in  Britain  and  America, 
to  the  charming  production  of  Everyman.  Finally, 
it  may  be  noted  that,  as  the  writer  once  heard 
Brander  Matthews  say  in  a  lecture,  the  most 
primitive  form  of  drama  to  be  found  at  the  present 
day  is  that  in  the  lowest  type  of  music  hall,  with 
its  rough  jests  and  horseplay,  its  dances  (all  often 
of  a  somewhat  questionable  character),-  and  its 
scanty  plot. 

4.  Actors. — The  position  of  the  actor  in  the 
primitive  drama  is,  of  course,  a  most  honourable 
one ;  for,  where  the  player  is  enacting  the  roles 
of  the  gods  themselves,  he  cannot  be  other  than  a 
most  highly  respected  person  ;  the  esteem  accorded 
him  is  precisely  what  is  accorded,  e.g.,  to  the  actors 
in  the  Passion  Play  of  Oberammergau.  But  this 
position  of  honour  does  not  last  long ;  and  in 
China,  Japan,  India  (cf.  the  Skr.  proverbs  given 
by  Bbhtlingk  in  his  Ind.  Spriiche,  St.  Petersburg, 
1870-73,  nos.  1593,  2235,  2278,  3165,  5315,  6284),  and 
Rome  the  actor  was  regarded  as  an  outcast,  this, 
doubtless,  being  due,  as  Krause  (Pariavblker  der 
Gegenwart,  Leipzig,  1903,  p.  3  f.  ;  cf.  Beneke,  Von 
unehrlichen  Leuten,  Leipzig,  1863,  p.  21)  says,  to 
the  fact  that  the  actors  profession  demanded  a 
roving  life,  so  that  he  could  not  belong  to  any 
regular  community,  while  his  subordination  of  his 
own  personality  to  the  r61es  which  he  was  to  pbay 
robbed  him  of  respect  in  the  eyes  of  the  spectators. 
In  consequence,  the  actors  suffered  certain  civic 
disabilities,  as  when  they  were  debarred  from  being 
witnesses  in  courts  of  law,  or  when,  as  in  China, 
their  descendants  were  forbidden  to  compete  in 
public  examinations  for  three  generations  (cf.  also 
Post,  Afrikan.  Jurisprudenz,  Oldenburg,  1887,  i. 
171  f. ).  Equal  contempt  was  manifested  towards 
actresses,  so  that  in  India  they  were  classed  among 
courtesans  and  bawds  (Schmidt,  Beitr.  zur  ind. 
Erotik,  Leipzig,  1902,  pp.  2S3,  778  f.);  and,  as  in 
India  and  China,  many  peoples  have  forbidden 
women  to  appear  upon  the  stage,  their  r61es  being 
taken  by  men  and  boys.  More  or  less  social  ostra- 
cism still  attaches  to  the  great  majority  of  those 
connected  with  the  stage,  and  it  is  unfortunately 
true  that  the  lives  of  many  players,  with  their 
flagrant  disregard  of  social  conventions,  and  even 
of  common  morality,  have  given  only  too  much 
reason  for  disfavour.  To  the  peculiar  temptations 
of  stage  life,  increased  greatly  by  the  wanderings 
to  which  the  actor  is  normally  doomed,  only  allu- 
sion is  necessary.  Yet  it  must  not  be  forgotten 
that  this  darker  side  is,  in  reality,  nothing  but  an 
unhappy  incident ;  only  the  faults  are  generally 
known,  and  the  brighter  and  nobler  side  of  the 
actor's  life  is  too  little  recognized.  Accurate  statis- 
tics of  the  moral  and  intellectual  standard  of  the 


DRAMA  (American) 


871 


acting  profession  would,  doubtless,  compare  favour- 
ably with  similar  standards  of  many  other  pro- 
fessions. 

5.  The  ethical  aspect  of  the  drama. — Outside 
the  Christian  world  this  problem  seems  to  have 
received  slight  consideration.  The  Buddhist  '  Ten 
Precepts '  for  monks  include  '  abstinence  from  the 
sight  of  dancing,  singing,  music,  and  shows' 
(naccagitavaditavisukadassana  veraniani  [Khud- 
dakapatha,  3  ;  cf.  the  citations  in  Levi,  ii.  54])  ; 
but  the  history  of  Buddhism  proves  that  this 
interdict  was  ill  obeyed  (Levi,  i.  319-323).  The 
theoretical  position  of  Jainism  against  the  theatre 
was  the  same  (Ayaramgasutta,  II.  xi.  14),  with  the 
same  disregard  of  it  in  actual  life ;  and  we  have 
not  only  the  fine  Buddhistic  drama  Nagananda, 
but  also  such  Jain  plays  as  the  Rajimatiprabodha 
(Levi,  i.  323  f.,  ii.  57). 

The  chief  objection  to  the  drama  from  the 
ethical  standpoint  has  arisen  from  Christianity. 
In  the  case  of  the  pagan  dramas  this  can  readily 
be  understood.  They  were  pagan,  and  counten- 
anced idolatry  (Tertullian's  first  objection  to  them 
in  his  de  Spectaculis) ;  they  were  frankly  immoral ; 
and  the  ascetic  tendency  of  Christianity  was 
against  such  idle  amusements  (cf.  '  Roman '  art. 
below).  With  the  decay  of  paganism  and  the 
creation  of  a  purer  sentiment  the  first  two  objec- 
tions disappeared,  while  the  value  of  the  stage  as 
an  educational  factor  led  the  Church  to  encourage 
the  drama  ;  nor  is  there  any  doubt  that  the  theatre 
was  a  powerful  agent  in  bringing  the  less  educated 
to  a  knowledge  of  Bible  history  and  in  enforcing 
the  Church's  moral  teachings  (see  Miracle  Plays). 
The  whole  tradition  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
whether  Roman  or  Anglican,  has  been,  like  that 
of  Lutheranism  in  Protestantism,  distinctly  favour- 
able to  a  pure  and  lofty  drama.  Far  different  was 
the  position  of  Reformed  Protestantism.  The  most 
fervent  admirers  of  Calvin,  Zwingli,  Knox,  and 
their  followers  would  be  the  most  unwilling  to 
deny  that  these  men,  one  and  all,  set  their  faces 
against  everything  that  they  deemed  folly ;  nor 
can  the  warmest  advocate  of  the  theatre  deny  that 
much  had  come  into  the  drama  to  arouse  antagon- 
ism even  from  men  of  more  compromising  type. 
But,  unfortunately,  they,  as  the  German  proverb 
has  it,  '  shook  out  the  child  with  the  bath,'  and 
condemned  the  theatre  utterly.  In  England, 
attacks  on  the  stage  have  come  almost  entirely 
from  the  Puritans,  as  in  Northbrooke's  Treatise 
wherein  Dicing,  Dauncing,  vaine  Playes  or  Enter- 
luds  .  .  .  are  reproved  (1577-79,  ed.  Collier,  for 
the  Shakespeare  Society,  1843),  Gosson's  School  of 
Abuse  (1579,  ed.  Collier,  1843),  Stubb's  Anatomie  of 
Abuses  (1583,  ed.  Furnivalle,  New  Shakespeare 
Soc,  ser.  vi.,  1876-82),  and  especially  Prynne's 
Histrio-Mastrix  (1632 ;  on  all  these  see  Ward, 
Hist,  of  Eng.  Dramatic  Lit.,  London,  1899,  i. 
459-461,  iii.  239-245).  But  suppression  of  the 
theatre  was  hopeless,  and  has  ever  since  remained 
hopeless.  The  Reformed  Church  has,  neverthe- 
less, maintained  its  position ;  and  in  this  it  has 
been  followed  by  the  Wesleyans  and,  on  the  whole, 
by  the  Baptists,  as  well  as  by  many  of  the  smaller 
sects  of  the  United  States,  though  here,  too,  prac- 
tice lags  far  behind  precept.  Oh  the  other  hand, 
the  Anglican  Church,  by  its  Actors'  Alliance,  has 
set  an  example  which  other  communions  might 
do  worse  than  follow. 

But  is  the  suppression  of  the  theatre  desirable  ? 
The  writer  is  inclined  to  doubt  it.  That  there  is 
much  represented  on  the  stage  which  is  utterly 
vile  is  only  too  apparent ;  and  that  should  be 
crushed  (cf.  also  art.  Censorship).  On  the  other 
hand,  there  is  an  abundance  that  is  of  the  highest 
ethical  value,  and  this  becomes  the  more  im- 
portant when  it  is  remembered  that  the  theatre 


is  largely  patronized  by  the  non-churchgoing 
classes.  Without  entering  into  a  technical  discus- 
sion of  Ibsen,  it  would  seem  that  his  dramas  are 
full  of  moral  lessons  of  a  Puritanical  sternness : 
the  fearful  consequences  of  the  sins  of  the  fathers 
in  Ghosts,  the  need  of  absolute  confidence  between 
husband  and  wife  in  A  Doll's  House,  or  the  scath- 
ing condemnation  of  hypocrisy  in  The  Pillars  of 
Society.  And  Ibsen  is  but  one  of  a  host  of  drama- 
tists who  for  centuries  have  conveyed  through  the 
stage  lessons  of  value  for  mankind  who  might 
otherwise  never  have  received  them.  There  is, 
moreover,  in  humanity  a  real  need  for  the  stage  ; 
had  it  not  been  so,  the  long-waged  war  on  the 
theatre  would  have  been  crowned  with  success. 
From  this  point  of  view  the  question  of  attending 
the  theatre  merges  into  that  of  amusements  (q.v.). 
The  theatre  has  perhaps  yet  another  raison  a&tre, 
often  overlooked.  In  a  famous  passage  (Poet. 
vi.  2)  Aristotle  defines  tragedy  as  '  an  imitation  of 
an  action  that  is  serious,  complete,  and  of  a  certain 
magnitude  .  .  .  through  pity  and  fear  effecting 
the  proper  purgation  of  these  emotions '  (/ti^o-is 
Trpa&ws  o~irovdalas  /cat  re\eias,  ueyedos  exovans  .  .  .  St 
4\eov  Kal  (pdfiov  irepaivov&a  rr\v  t&v  toioi/twp  iradnuartiiv 
KaBapcriv) ;  and  this  has  been  admirably  explained 
by  Butcher  (op.  cit.  ch.  vi.)  as  meaning  that  the 
witnessing  of  a  tragedy  rouses  in  the  spectator 
emotions  of  fear  and  pity  which  expel  those  same 
emotions  that  are  lying  latent  within  himself 
while  '  in  the  pleasurable  calm  which  follows  when 
the  passion  is  spent,  an  emotional  cure  has  been 
wrought.'  On  this  principle,  the  attendance  on 
any  good  drama  would,  in  like  manner,  effect  a 
pleasurable  and  healthy  excitation,  and  a  dis- 
charge of  emotions,  latent  indeed,  but  so  seldom 
aroused  as  to  be  in  danger  of  atrophy. 

Literature. — The  bibliography  of  the  drama  is  enormous, 
though  much  is  irrelevant  in  the  present  connexion,  and  more 
special  branches  will  be  given  in  the  literature  appended  to  the 
following  epecial  sections.  This  section  has  been  intentionally 
restricted  to  problems  of  the  origin,  primitive  purpose,  and 
general  ethics  of  the  drama  ;  and  the  history — here  omitted — 
will  be  more  appropriately  discussed  in  the  following  sections. 
There  is  no  complete  history  of  the  drama,  the  most  important 
works  on  which  are  Klein,  Gesch.  des  Drama's  (14  vols., 
Leipzig,  1865-86)  ;  Prolss,  Gesch.  des  neueren  Dramas  (Leipzig, 
1880-S3) ;  Petit  de  Julleville,  Histoire  iu  thiatre  en  France 
(Paris,  ISSOff.);  Berendt,  Schiller— Wagner  (Berlin,  1901); 
Ward,  Hist,  of  Eng.  Dramatic  Lit.  to  the  Death  of  Queen 
Anne  (3  vols.,  London,  1899) ;  Seilhamer,  Hist,  of  the 
American  Theatre  (Philadelphia,  18SS-91).  For  interesting 
studies  of  some  of  the  great  modern  dramatists,  see  Archer, 
English  Dramatists  of  To-Day  (London,  1SS2) ;  Huneker, 
Iconoclasts  (New  York,  1905) ;  Hale,  Dramatists  of  To-Day 
(New  York,  1905).  Special  attention  is  due  to  the  edition  and 
commentary  on  the  Poetics  of  Aristotle  by  Butcher  {Aristotle's 
Theory  of  Poetry  and  Fine  Art3,  London,  1902),  and  Ridge- 
way,  Origin  of  Tragedy,  with  Special  Reference  to  the  Greek 
Tragedians  (Cambridge,  1910).  The  technical  side  is  con- 
veniently treated  by  Freytag,  Technique  of  the  Drama  (tr. 
MacEwan3,  Chicago,  1900);  Woodbndge,  The  Drama,  its 
Law  and  Technique  (Boston,  1S98) ;  Price,  Technique  of  the 
Drama  (New  York,  1892);  Hennequin,  Art  of  Playwriting 
(New  York,  1890).  For  an  interesting  form  of  primitive  drama 
among  the  Manses  of  N.W.  Siberia,  see  Gondatti,  Traces  of 
Paganism  among  the  Aborigines  of  N.W.  Siberia  [Russ.] 
(Moscow,  1888  ;  epitomized  by  Schmidt,  in  Cultur  der  Gegen- 
wart,  i.  part  7  ['  Die  orientalischen  Literaturen '],  Leipzig,  1906, 

P-  21  f.).  Louis  H.  Gray. 

DRAMA  (American). — In  America,  particularly 
in  Mexico  and  Peru,  the  drama  reached  a  rela- 
tively high  degree  of  development.  Even  at 
an  earlier  stage,  North  American  Indian  panto- 
mimic dances,  usually  named  after  the  animals 
imitated,  show  an  approximation  to  the  drama. 
Thus,  among  the  Dakotas,  a  youth  on  admission 
to  full  tribal  rights  was  clothed  in  a  bearskin  and 
pantomimically  hunted  by  the  members  of  the 
tribe — a  scene  which  reminds  oneV.  of  the  Greek 
mimetic  dance  described  by  Xenophon  (Anab.  vi.  1). 
Among  the  Puebloan  Tusayans  and  Hopis  an  ele- 
mentary form  of  drama  is  found  in  the  katcinas, 
which  are  primarily  '  spirits  of  the  ancients  of  the 


872 


DRAMA  (Arabic) 


Hopis,  and  personations  of  them  by  men  bear  the 
symbols  which  are  supposed  to  have  characterized 
these  ancients'  (Fewkes,  'Hopi  Katcinas,' p.  16). 
In  a  secondary  meaning  Icatcina  also  connotes  a 
dance  in  which  these  heroes  are  impersonated ;  and 
such  dramas  are  presented  at  stated  festivals  in 
honour  of  the  arrival  or  departure  of  the  heroes  or 
gods.  Other  katcinas,  while  equally  religious  in 
origin  and  spirit,  are  given  only  occasionally.  Some 
katcinas,  such  as  the  powamti,  or  bean-planting, 
are  performed  partly  in  the  open  air,  and  occupy  a 
number  of  days  ;  but  others  are  given  in  the  kivas, 
or  assembly-houses,  and  approximate  more  closely 
to  the  drama  proper.  One  of  the  latter  class,  de- 
scribed in  considerable  detail  by  Fewkes  (op.  cit. 
pp.  40-51 ;  Proceedings  of  the  Washington  Academy 
of  Sciences,  Washington,  1900,  ii.  607-626),  is  note- 
worthy for  its  elaborate  mimetic  dances,  while 
dialogue,  as  in  the  Polynesian  dramas,  plays  but 
a  minor  part.  In  the  Hopi  play,  moreover,  scenery 
is  employed  and  stage  properties  are  used,  while 
marionettes  are  not  unknown.  Costume  is,  of 
course,  an  important  feature  of  the  katcinas,  and 
the  masks  are  a  characteristic  part  of  the  entire 
ceremony  (cf.  the  collection  reproduced  by  Fewkes, 
op.  cit.  plates  i.-lxiii.). 

In  Yucatan  a  form  of  drama  was  known,  in  which 
'  buffoons '  (balzam)  represented  ancient  legends, 
interspersed  with  jests  at  the  expense  of  local 
dignitaries ;  but  such  plays  seem  to  have  had 
no  connexion  with  religion  (Fancourt,  History  of 
Yucatan,  London,  1854,  p.  122).  Both  in  ancient 
Mexico  and  in  Peru  mimetic  dances  were  known 
(Klein,  Gesch.  des  Drama's,  Leipzig,  xi.  [1874]  97 f.), 
the  former  being  in  great  part  fertility-ceremonies, 
and  accompanied  with  phallic  gestures.  The  Aztecs 
also  had,  however,  a  more  developed  drama,  of 
which  an  example  has  survived  in  the  Rabinal- 
Achi,  a  sort  of  ballet  with  dialogue.  This  play  is 
concerned  with  the  tragic  fate  of  Prince  Cavec 
Quiche  Achi,  who  is  captured  after  a  long  struggle 
by  the  hero,  Rabinal-Achi.  As  a  dramatic  pro- 
duction the  Rabinal-Achi  is  of  little  value,  except- 
ing as  an  interesting  example  of  a  play  produced 
by  a  people  devoid  of  contact  with  other  nations 
possessing  a  developed  drama. 

The  Inca  amantas,  according  to  Garcilasso  de 
la  Vega,  ii.  26  (tr.  by  Markham,  Hakluyt  Society, 
London,  1869,  xli.  194),  composed  both  comedies 
and  tragedies,  which  were  presented  at  important 
festivals  before  the  king  and  high  nobles,  while 
the  actors,  who  received  rich  presents  for  their 
services,  were  themselves  men  of  rank.  The 
tragedies  'always  related  to  military  deeds,  tri- 
umphs, and  victories,  or  to  the  grandeur  of  former 
kings  and  of  other  heroic  men.  The  arguments 
of  the  comedies  were  on  agriculture  and  familiar 
household  subjects.  .  .  .  They  did  not  allow  im- 
proper or  vile  farces ;  but  all  the  plays  were  on 
decorous  and  important  subjects,  the  sentences 
being  such  as  befitted  the  occasion.' 

The  only  Inca  drama  which  has  survived  in  its 
entirety,  however,  is  the  play  of  Ollanta,  which 
seems  to  date  from  the  reign  of  the  Inca  Huayna 
Ccapac,  in  the  first  decade  of  the  16th  century.  The 
scene  is  laid  in  the  reign  of  the  Inca  Yupanki,  in 
the  early  part  of  the  15th  cent.,  and  the  theme  is 
one  of  love.  Ollanta,  raised  from  a  humble  station 
to  the  dignity  of  a  chief  by  the  Inca  Pachacutek, 
falls  in  love  with  Cushi  Ccoyllur,  the  daughter  of 
Pachacutek,  but  his  suit  is  denied  by  the  Inca. 
Ollanta  then  declares  war  upon  his  sovereign,  and, 
though  at  first  successful,  is  at  last  betrayed  to 
his  enemy.  Meanwhile  the  princess  had  been 
imprisoned,  and  in  her  cell  had  given  birth  to  a 
daughter,  who,  however,  was  allowed  her  free- 
dom. The  captive  Ollanta,  condemned  to  death 
by  Yupanki,   who  had   succeeded   Pachacutek  in 


the  course  of  the  ten  years'  war,  is  later  spared, 
and  even  declared  the  heir-apparent  to  the  throne. 
At  this  juncture,  Ollanta's  daughter,  learning  that 
her  mother  is  a  captive,  implores  the  Inca  to  release 
her,  whereupon  he  repairs  to  the  cell,  accompanied 
by  his  retinue,  and  in  the  happy  denouement  Cushi 
Ccoyllur  is  re-united  with  Ollanta.  The  drama 
may  well  have  a  historic  basis,  and  it  is  noteworthy 
that  it  contains  songs  which  strikingly  correspond 
to  the  Greek  chorus. 

Another  Inca  drama  has  been  preserved,  the 
Usca  Paucar,  treating  of  the  love  of  its  hero 
for  the  beautiful  Ccori-ttica ;  but  it  has  been  so 
changed  by  later  interpolations  that  it  is  of  rela- 
tively little  value  for  a  knowledge  of  the  Inca 
drama.  While  a  generalization  on  such  scant 
data  may  be  deemed  hazardous,  it  may  perhaps 
be  suggested  that  in  the  bloody  fate  of  the  Aztec 
Rabinal-Achi,  who  dances  to  his  death  on  the  sacri- 
ficial stone  amid  twelve  eagles  and  wild  beasts, 
as  contrasted  with  the  beauty  and  pathos,  with  a 
happy  ending,  of  the  drama  of  Ollanta,  there  is 
a  suggestion  of  the  cardinal  traits  of  the  ancient 
Mexicans  and  Peruvians  themselves.  Dramatic- 
ally, moreover,  the  Aztec  play  is  far  inferior  to  the 
Inca — the  former  a  mass  of  repetition,  the  latter 
a  work  of  art,  which  is  most  closely  paralleled  in 
its  supreme  devotion  to  the  theme  of  love,  as  Klein 
has  well  pointed  out,  with  the  drama  of  ancient 
India.  In  the  number  of  acts,  exceeding  the  con- 
ventional five,  and  in  the  disregard  of  the  '  unities,' 
the  Ollanta  presents  another  point  of  similarity 
with  the  Sanskrit  drama. 

Literature. — Gerland,  Anthropol.  der  Naturvolker,  iii.  210 
(Leipzig,  1862) ;  Fewkes,  "Tusayan  Katcinas,'  in  15  RBEW(1S9T) 
251-313,  '  Hopi  Katcinas,'  SI  RBEW  (1903)  1-126  ;  Klein,  Gesch. 
des  Drama's,  iii.  613-598  (Leipzig,  1866) ;  Preuss,  '  Phallische 
Fruchtbarkeits-Damonen  als  Trager  des  altmexikanischen 
Dramas,'  in  A  A,  new  series,  i.  129-188;  Brasseur  de  Bour- 
bourg,  Gramm.  de  la  langue  quichee  (Paris,  1862 ;  containing 
the  text  and  a  French  tr.  of  the  Rabinal-Achi) ;  Tschudi, 
'Ollanta,  ein  altperuanisches  Drama,'  in  DWAW,  philos.-hist. 
Classe,  xxiv.  169-384  ;  Fletcher,  '  Dramatic  Representation,'  in 
Bull.  SO  BE,  part  1,  p.  400  (Washington,  1907). 

Louis  H.  Gray. 

DRAMA  (Arabic). — It  is  a  strange  feature  of 
Arabic  literature  (otherwise  so  rich,  developed 
even  to  the  point  of  degeneration)  that  the  art  of 
the  drama  has  never  advanced  beyond  the  very 
crudest  beginnings.1  Even  to-day  there  is  no 
Arabic  drama ;  there  is  only  a  drama  in  the 
Arabic  language  ;  for  all  plays  that  have  appeared 
in  the  language  of  Muhammad  during  the  last 
fifty  years  are  nothing  but  translations,  or,  at 
best,  imitations,  of  European  works ;  and,  before 
this  period,  all  that  was  written  and  played  in  the 
form  of  dialogue  can  hardly  be  called  drama  in  the 
real  meaning  of  the  word ;  it  was  simply  a  rudi- 
mentary form  of  it. 

The  earliest  traces  of  Arabic  dramatics  are  to  be 
found,  as  Horovitz  says,  in  the  art  of  the  hakif  or 
muqallid,  the  imitator  of  dialectic3  and  personal  pe- 
culiarities. This  individual,  though  not  now  known 
under  the  same  name,  is  still  to  be  frequently  seen 
in  modern  Egypt.  A  certain  Ahmad  Fahim  al-Far 
in  Cairo,  for  instance,  enjoys  a  wide-spread  popu- 
larity because  of  his  ability  to  reproduce  the  cries 
of  different  animals  and  to  depict  comic  scenes  of 
all  kinds,  especially  those  of  harem  and  peasant 
life.4    Women,  in  particular,  are  very  fond  of  such 

1  Richard  F.  Burton,  in  the  terminal  essay  of  his  tr.  of  The 
Thousand  Nights  and  a  Night(Bena.res,  1S85),  vol.  x.  p.  166,  says: 
'  Turkey  is  the  only  Moslem  country  which  has  dared  to  produce 
a  regular  drama.' 

2  Horovitz,  Spuren  griech.  Mimen  im  Orient  (Berlin,  1905), 
pp.  18-21 ;  Sachau,  Am  Euphrat  und  Tigris  (Leipz.  1900),  p.  65. 

3  Dialectic  peculiarities  still  play  an  important  part  in  the 
Arabic  farce,  the  shadow-play,  and  the  puppet-show. 

4  Ahmad  al-Far,  known  under  the  name  Ibn  Rabiya,  works 
with  a  troupe  of  about  12  persons,  exclusively  men,  who  also  play 
the  female  r61es.  His  most  popular  pieces  are  the  fasletturutp, 
a  most  indecent  farce  picturing  the  deeds  of  a  charlatan  who 
expel9  a  devil,  an  'afrit,  from  a  woman  ;  the  fasl  essa'idi,  wherein 


DRAMA  (Arabic) 


873 


performances.  A  similar  figure  in  the  streets  of 
Cairo  is  the  well-known,  but  nowadays  rarely  seen, 
fun-maker,  'Alt  Kaka,1  who  appears  occasionally 
at  mulids  (birth  festivals),  and  at  the  fair  held 
every  week  on  the  open  square  below  the  Citadel. 
He  is  the  prototype  of  the  coarse,  half-idiotic, 
clownish  peasant  who,  to  the  music  of  two  flutes 
and  a  clarabukka  (earthenware  drum),  performs 
ape-like,  obscene  dances  and  makes  absurd  jokes. 
He  goes  barefoot,  and  wears  a  bent  tail  of  stiffened 
cotton  ;  in  one  hand  he  holds  a  long  peasant's  stick 
(nabbfd),  and  in  the  other  a  so-called  farqilla,  a 
kind  of  long,  thick,  noisy,  but  harmless,  whip  of 
twisted  cotton,  with  which  he  constantly  lashes 
his  musicians,  and  even  his  audience. 

The  recitations  of  the  story-tellers  {rawi),  who 
were  formerly  to  be  found  throughout  the  Arabic 
Orient,  and  who  related  in  public  places  tales  from 
the  Arabian  Nights,  had  without  doubt,  as  the 
manner  of  the  stories  themselves  proves,  a  dramatic 
character  ; 2  and  this  is  certainly  so  in  the  case  of 
the  recitations  of  the  modern  epigones  of  the  rdwis 
— the  iiCara  and  muhaddithln*  who,  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  the  rubaba  (a  kind  of  stringed  instru- 
ment), recite  in  coffee-houses  the  stories  of 'Antar, 
Abu  Zaid,  Zahir  Bibars,4  and  other  national  heroes. 
Worthy  of  note  is  the  fact  that  Dozy,6  quoting 
Pedro  de  Alcala,  gives  for  the  word  Sa  ir  the 
meaning  '  acteur,  qui  joue  un  role  (representador 
de  comedias,  de  tragedias).'  Female  reciters  are 
also  occasionally,  though  not  often,  seen  at  fairs  in 
Cairo. 

Of  this  kind  of  folk-literature  the  classical  and 
highest  expression  was  reached  by  the  poets  of  the 
Maqamat,  by  Hamadhani6  (967-1007),  Hariri7 
(1054-1122),  and  many  others.  The  maqama, 
called  by  Chenery  8  '  a  kind  of  dramatic  anecdote,' 
relates,  in  a  most  vivid  and  animated  but  somewhat 
artificial  style,  the  deeds  and  speeches  of  wander- 
ing scholars,  beggars,  and  jugglers,  and  has  not 
even  yet  entirely  disappeared  from  modern  Arabic 
literature.9 

In  spite,  however,  of  all  these  preparatory  mimic 
and  dramatic  elements  in  their  literature,  the 
Arabs,  as  has  already  been  stated,  have  never 
found  their  way  to  the  actual  drama.  At  all 
events,  there  seems  to  be  no  positive  proof  of  the 
existence  of  an  early  Arabic  stage.  If,  occa- 
sionally, we  meet  with  the  word  hijal  or  hajal,1"  it 
means,  in  all  probability,  nothing  more  than  the 
already  mentioned  taqlid,11  the  mimicry  of  comical 
personal  characteristics,  or  the  presentation  of 
short,  loosely  connected  scenes,  not  a  theatrical 
piece.  The  complete  lack  of  all  dramatic  texts, 
the  absence  even  of  the  description  of  any  dramatic 

are  described  the  adventures  in  Cairo  of  a  stupid,  yet  shrewd, 
peasant  of  Upper  Egypt ;  and  the  fasl.el-Higaz,  the  pilgrimage 
to  Mecca.  Ahmad  al-Far's  performances  are  given  only  at  wed- 
dings and  other  private  festivities. 

1  See  Kern  in  the  Appendix  (p.  104)  to  Horovitz's  work  cited 
above. 

2  Burton  (op.  cit.  x,  9,  note  1) :  'No  wonder  that  the  Nights 
has  been  made  the  basis  of  a  national  theatre  amongst  the 
Turks.' 

3An  exact  description  of  the  su'ara  and  muhaddithin  and  of 
their  performances  is  to  be  found  in  Lane's  Manners  and  Cus- 
toms of  the  Modern  Egyptians,  1836,  chs.  21-23. 

4  The  subjects  of  these  recitations  have  all  been  published  in 
romance  form.  See,  for  example,  Siret  ez-Zahir  Bibars  (Cairo, 
1908,  50  vols.) ;  Siret  Bani  Hildl  (Beirut,  1891,  62  vols.)  ;  Tagri- 
bet  Bani  Bital  (Beirut,  n.d.,  26  vols.)  ;  and  Siret  'Antara  (Cairo, 
A.u.  1306-11,  24  vols.). 

5  Suppl.  owi  Diet,  arabes  (Leyden,  1881),  vol.  i.  p.  764. 

6  See  Brockelmann,  Gesch.  der  arab.  Litt.  (Weimar,  1898), 
vol.  i.  pp.  93-95. 

7  lb.  i.  276  f. 

■*  The  Assemblies  of  Al- Hariri  (London,  1867),  Preface,  p.  40. 

9  For  the  dramatic  elements  in  the  maqamat  poetry,  see 
Horovitz,  op.  cit.  pp.  21-27. 

10  For  the  meaning  and  literature  of  the  word  hajal,  see  Jacob, 
Gesch.  des  Schattentheaters  (Berlin,  1907),  p.  23  f.  Dozy  quotes 
Pedro  de  Alcala  as  giving  for  the  meaning  of  the  words  la'abu'l- 
hijal,  'momo  contrahazedor.' 

n  See  Jacob,  op.  cit.  p.  100  f. 


representation,  would  be,  when  one  considers  the 
numerous  chronicles  of  mediaeval  Arabic  amuse- 
ments, an  altogether  too  remarkable  omission  to 
be  regarded  as  possible,  had  there  been  a  stage. 
The  earliest  description  of  an  Arabic  drama  known 
to  the  present  writer  is  that  given  by  the  famous 
Danish  traveller,  Carsten  Niebuhr,1  who  visited 
Cairo  a  hundred  and  thirty  years  ago ;  but  even 
this  performance,  which  bears  a  close  resemblance 
to  the  scenes  of  Ahmad  al-Far,  seems  to  correspond 
in  form  only,  not  in  substance,  to  our  conception 
of  the  drama. 

The  reasons  for  this  curious  failure  of  the  Arabic  mind  to 
produce  anything  really  dramatic  have  been  discoursed  upon  at 
length  by  Jacob  in  his  history  of  the  shadow-play.2  He  points 
out  that  the  Muhammadan  view  of  life,  with  its  autocratic  idea 
of  God  and  fate,  has  absolutely  no  comprehension  of  individual 
conflict,  of  rebellion  against  the  'eternal  mover,'  the  Muharrik, 
or  of  any  combat  between  will  and  duty,  and  has  therefore  no 
comprehension  of  the  dramatic.  Joy  in  tragedy,  that  most 
individualistic  form  of  dramatic  art,  must  seem  to  the  passively 
feeling  and  thinking  Arab  a  very  great  absurdity.  The  artistic 
pleasure  which  we  feel  in  the  beauty  of  the  awe-inspiring,  in 
magnificent  decline,  in  the  grandeur  of  the  desperate  battle  of 
life,  without  hope  and  without  success,  is  entirely  foreign  to  the 
Arab.  His  ideal  hero  is  too  practical  to  allow  himself  to  be  use- 
lessly conquered,  and  no  Arab  poet  would  venture  to  represent 
him  in  such  a  manner.  He  does  not  defy  fate  :  he  gets  round 
it  1  It  never  occurs  to  the  Arab  to  try  to  determine  the  main 
lines  of  his  own  life,  for  '  there  is  no  strength  or  power  but  in 
God  the  Great';  his  eye  is  turned  towards  that  which  lies 
nearest,  to  the  detail,  that  which  is  decorative  only  ;  all  Arabic 
art  is  nothing  but  detail  work,  merely  putting  on  the  finishing 
touches  ;  it  is  never  original  creating  ;  the  great  decisive  tend- 
encies and  forms  of  art  have  always  come  to  the  people  of 
Muhammad  from  other  lands.3  Their  manner  of  thinking,  too, 
is  epic,  and  opposed  to  all  rapid  development.  For  them  accumu- 
lation, repetition  of  the  same  motif,  is  not  tiring  or  an  evidence 
of  bad  taste  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  consider  it  a  most  effective 
artistic  principle.  Quick  action  in  the  progress  of  a  story,  that 
which  is  really  dramatic,  is  therefore  actually  unpleasant  to  the 
Arab.  He  relates  everything  with  epic  breadth,  never  referring 
to  an  already  related  incident  without  repeating  the  whole  story 
to  the  point  of  tediousness.  Tension  in  the  plot  is  unknown 
to  him  ;  when  he  has  found  a  theme  that  pleases  him,  he  makes 
variations  upon  it  until  the  subject  is  completely  exhausted. 
This  is  well  illustrated  by  Arabic  music.  A  European  listener, 
after  half  an  hour  of  such  music,  with  its  constant  reiteration  of 
the  same  series  of  tones,  its  interminable  variations  of  the  same 
melody  consisting  of  scarcely  a  dozen  notes,  sinks  into  a  state 
of  despair,  whereas  the  Oriental  never  has  enough  of  it. 

The  only  form  of  dramatic  art  which,  though 
probably  not  originated  by  the  Arabs,  has  never- 
theless been  developed  to  a  certain  degree  by  them, 
is  the  shadow-play,  the  hajal  eddill.i  The  history 
of  the  Arabic  shadow-play,  thanks  to  the  thorough 
investigations  of  Jacob,5  and  to  the  publications  of 
Littmann,6  Kern,7  Priifer,8  Wetzstein-Jahn,9  and, 
lately,  those  of  Kahle,10  is  now,  in  its  essential 
points,  very  well  known.  There  is  undoubtedly  no 
question  that  the  shadow-play  was  brought  to 
the  Muhammadan  peoples  of  tne  Orient  from  the 
Far  East.11  Which  of  those  peoples  was  the  first 
to  cultivate  this  curious  kind  of  theatrical  art,  it  is 

1  Reisebeschreibung  nach  Arabien  und  anderen  umliegenden 
Ldndern,  vol.  i.  (Copenhagen,  1774)  p.  187. 

2  Jacob,  op.  cit.  p.  93  f.  3  lb.  pp.  25-27. 

4  In  using  the  Arab,  name  for  the  shadow-play,  we  have 
chosen  its  Egyp.  dialect  pronunciation  (classic  hijalu'  zzulli). 

5  '  Zur  Gesch.  des  Schattenspiels '  (Keleti  Szemle,  i.  [Buda- 
pest, 1900]  233-236) ;  '  Drei  arab.  Schattenspiele  aus  dem  13. 
Jahrhundert'  (ib.  ii.  [1901]  76  f.);  Das  Schattenlheater,  in 
seiner  Wanderung  vom  Morgenland  zum  Abendland  (Berlin, 
1901)  ;  Textproben  aus  dem  Escorial-Codex  des  Muhammad  ibn 
Ddnijdl  (Erlangen,  1902) ;  Gesch.  des  Schattentheaters. 

6'Ein  arab.  Karagoz-Spiel'  (ZDMG  liv.  [1900]  661);  Arab. 
Schattenspiele  (Berlin,  1901) ;  '  Arabic  Humor '  (Princeton  Bull. 
xiii.  [1902]  92-99). 

7  '  Das  agypt.  Schattentheater,'  Appendix  to  Horovitz's  Spuren 
griech.  Mimen  in%  Orient. 

8  Ein  dgypt.  Schattenspiel  (Erlangen,  1906) ;  '  Das  Schiffspiel' 
(Beitrage  zur  Kenntnis  des  Orients,  ii.  [Munich,  1906]). 

9  Wetzstein,  '  Die  Liebenden  von  Amasia,'  a  Damascene  drama, 
ed.  by  G.  Jahn,  in  Abhandl.  f.  d.  Kunde  des  Morgenl.,  vol.  xii. 
no  2. 

10  Zur  Gesch.  des  arab.  Schattentheaters  in  Egypten  (Leipzig, 
1909)  ;  Zur  Gesch.  des  arab.  Schattenspiels  in  Egypten  (Halle, 
1909);  'Islamische  Schattenspielfiguren  aus  Egypten,'  in  Her 
Islam,  vol.  i.  nos.  3  and  4  (1910),  and  vol.  ii.  nos.  2  and  3  (1911). 

11  Cf.  Jacob,  Gesch.  des  Schattentheaters  (Berlin,  1907),  p.  4 : 
*  Die  Forschung  der  Ietzten  Jahre  hat  dariiber  jeden  Zweifel 
benommen,  dass  die  Heimat  des  Schattentheaters  im  ferneD 
Osten  zu  suchen  ist '  (p.  4). 


874 


DRAMA  (Arabic) 


difficult  to  say,  but  there  is  no  great  probability 
that  the  credit  belongs  to  the  Arabs.  The  earliest 
mention  of  the  shadow-theatre  in  Arabic  literature 
is  found  in  the  verses  of  Waglh  ad-Din  Dhija'  b. 
'Abd  al-Karim  el-Munawi  (13th  cent. ),  quoted  by 
Ghuzuli  and  translated  by  Jacob.1  It  is  obvious, 
however,  that  the  play  must  have  been  known  in 
Egypt  before  that  time,  because  Ibn  rjigge  2  speaks 
of  a  shadow-player  who  performed  before  the  Sultan 
Salah  ad-Din  (1169-1193)  in  Cairo.  From  this  time 
onwards  the  existence  of  an  Arabic  shadow-stage, 
especially  in  Egypt,  which,  as  Jacob  observes,8 
seems  always  to  have  been  the  land  where  the 
hajal  eddill  has  flourished  the  most,  has  been 
proved  by  several  passages  in  Oriental  and  Occi- 
dental literature.4  If  Kahle,6  influenced  by  state- 
ments made  by  a  modern  shadow-player  of  Cairo, 
and  by  the  self-glorifying  poetry  of  the  father  of 
the  same  player,  thinks  that  the  hajal  eddill  was 
unknown  in  Egypt  from  the  beginning  of  the  19th 
cent,  until  about  1860,  the  present  writer  fears 
that  his  opinion  is  not  wholly  tenable.  There  is 
evidence  that  the  shadow-play  existed  during  this 
period  of  time  in  Egypt.  Lane,  for  instance,  of 
whom  Kahle  asserts  that  he  does  not  mention  the 
shadow-play  with  a  single  word,6  speaks  of  such  a 
play,  although  the  khayal  ed-dill  (sic  !)  which  he 
mentions  was  given  in  the  Turkish  language.'  It 
is  not  clear  from  the  statement  of  Didier,8  who 
saw  a  '  lanterne  magique '  (kara-gueuz)  in  Cairo,  in 
the  year  1859,  whether  he  witnessed  a  Turkish  or 
an  Arabic  performance,  but  at  all  events  it  was  a 
shadow-play  at  which  he  was  present.  The  prob- 
able truth  of  the  matter  is  that  the  play  did  in 
fact  become  for  a  time  almost  obsolete  in  Egypt, 
and  that  Hasan  el-Qassas,  the  father  of  Kahle's 
informant,  the  self-styled  re-inventor  of  the  play 
in  this  country,  came  into  possession,  in  some 
manner,  of  the  old  manuscripts,  and  may  thus  very 
likely  have  acquired  an  influence  on  the  develop- 
ment of  the  play.  Certain  it  is  that  the  Egyptian 
shadow-performers  of  to-day  regard  Ilasan  el- 
Qassas  and  his  son  Derwis  as  their  masters.9  Some 
of  the  manuscripts  are  now  in  Kahle's  hands.10 

Kahle's  texts  and  three  pieces  written  by  the 
Egyptian  physician,  Muhammad  ibn  Danijal,11  in 
the  12th  cent.  A.D.,  are  up  to  the  present  time  the 
only  two  known  shadow-play  manuscripts.  The 
poetic  form  that  is  common  to  both  has  given  place, 
in  the  modern  productions,  to  a  prose  dialogue, 
which  is  only  occasionally  interrupted  by  songs  and 
passages  in  rhymed  prose.  In  the  Syrian  pieces, 
published  by  Littmann,  the  poetic  lines  seem  to  be 
entirely  lacking.  The  pieces  of  Ibn  Danijal  have 
disappeared  from  the  present  shadow-stage,  while 

I  Of.  Jacob,  op.  cit.  p.  30  f.  2  lb.  p.  32  f. 
3  lb.  p.  33. 

*  Jacob  gives  an  exhaustive  index  of  the  shadow-play  literature 
in  his  Erwdhnungen  des  Schattentheaters  in  der  Welt-Litteratur 
(Berlin,  1906).  It  may  be  added  that  the  shadow-play  was  men- 
tioned in  a  work  written  at  the  end  of  the  17th  cent.,  the  Hazz 
el-guhufot  Serbini  (Bulaq,  a.h.  1274  [a.d.  1857]),  p.  39. 

»  See  Kahle,  Zur  Gesch.  des  Schattentheaters  in  Egypten, 
p.  4  f.  Kahle  himself,  in  his  very  important  Islamische  Schat- 
tenspieljiguren  aus  Egypten  (1911),  modified  his  former  opinion 
somewhat. 

«  76.  p.  3. 

7  Lane,  Manners  and  Customs  of  the  Modern  Egyptians, 
p.  359.  '  Les  ombres  chinoises '  are  mentioned  also  in  Descrip- 
tion de  VEgypte,  vol.  xviii.  p.  441. 

8  Les  Suits  du  Caire,  Paris,  I860,  p.  353  :  ' .  .  .  et  a  cote  la 
lanterne  magique,  kara-gueuz,  ravissait  la  foule  par  de  fabuleuses 
obscenites.  .  .  .' 

9  Parts  of  the  texts  of  the  shadow-player  Miisa  ESsa'ir  are  in 
Kern's  possession. 

10  Derwis  is  still  in  possession  of  a  number  of  fragments  of 
shadow-play  manuscripts. 

II  An  extensive  study  of  these  three  pieces  may  be  found  in 
Jacob's  Gesch.  des  Schattentheaters,  pp.  34-75.  Besides  the  two 
manuscripts  of  Ibn  Danijal's  plays  described  by  Jacob,  another 
exists  in  Cairo.  It  is  in  the  hands  of  Ahmad  Be  Teimur,  who 
kindly  gave  the  present  writer  permission  to  have  it  copied. 
The  manuscript,  which  is  not  clearly  dated,  seems  to  be  not 
much  older  than  300  years. 


Kahle's  plays,  although  in  essentially  different 
form,  are  still  given  in  Cairo.  The  repertoire  of 
the  Cairo  shadow-players  is  not  very  large  ;  only 
the  li'b  edder,1  consisting  of  many  acts  (fad),  and 
the  much  shorter  li'b  elmarkib,2  undoubtedly  in- 
fluenced by  the  Turkish  ~K&Ta.g6z-r>la,y,  Kajyk  ojunu,3 
are  still  frequently  produced.  The  other  pieces 
mentioned  by  Priifer  and  Kern l  are  very  seldom 
given,  and  then  only  by  special  request.  The 
above-mentioned  Syrian  plays  are,  in  material  and 
dramatis  personal,  much  nearer  to  the  Turkish 
Karagoz  than  are  the  Egyptian  pieces.5 

The  shadow -theatre,  as  a  folk-amusement,  can 
now  hardly  be  said  to  fill  an  important  r61e  in  the 
Arabic  Orient.  In  fact,  most  of  that  which  is 
indigenous,  including  native  art-ideas,  is  slowly 
disappearing  behind  a  thin  veneering  of  European 
culture.  The  Europeanized  efendi  snobbishly  pre- 
fers the  Frankish  theatre,  even  though  it  bore  him, 
to  his  own  native  stage ;  and  the  Seh  and  small 
bourgeois  do  not  dare  to  risk  their  reputations  by 
letting  themselves  be  seen  in  the  obscure  dens  in 
which  the  shadow-play  has  been  obliged  to  take 
refuge  from  European  innovation.  Thus  there 
now  remains  only  the  lowest  class  to  form  an 
audience  for  a  production,  of  which  an  unknown 
Arab  poet  has  written  :  6 

'  A  meaning  deep  is  in  the  shadow-play 

For  him  who  sits  on  wisdom's  highest  throne. 
Figures  and  forms  pass  by  and  fade  away, 

Then  all  is  gone,  the  ruler  stays  alone.' 
The  scenic  apparatus  ('idda)  of  the  hajal  eddill  is 
the  simplest  imaginable.7  The  player  (usta)  sets 
up  his  kuSk,  a  movable  wooden  booth,  wherever  he 
wishes  it ;  there  he  sits  behind  a  tightly  stretched 
muslin  curtain  (SaS),  which  is  lighted  from  behind 
by  a  primitive  oil  lamp  (Si'la),  and  presses  the 
transparent  leather  figures  against  the  curtain  by 
means  of  wooden  sticks  fastened  to  the  figures  at 
the  back,  and  serving  at  the  same  time  to  move 
their  limbs.  The  player  is  supported  by  his  troupe 
(ffoq),  who  help  him  with  the  manipulation  of  the 
figures  and  in  reciting  the  different  r61es. 

The  only  shadow-stage  where  continual  performances  were 
given,  the  little  theatre  in  the  ill-famed  Cairo  Fish  Market,  has 
been  closed,  by  order  of  the  police,  since  the  beginning  of  the 
summer  of  1909  ;  so  that,  for  the  time  being,  at  any  rate,  the  play 
can  be  seen  only  on  the  occasion  of  folk-festivals,  or,  sometimes, 
at  wedding's  and  other  family  merry-makings. 

As  Kahle  8  tells  us,  figures  older  than  forty  years 
are  not  to  be  found  in  the  hands  of  the  Egyptian 
shadow-player  of  to-day,  and  one  can  hardly  judge 
from  the  present  figures  what  the  old  ones  were 
like.  Derwis  shows,  with  pride,  pictures  and 
fashion-plates  of  the  early  seventies,  and  says  that 
they  were  the  models  for  the  modern  figures. 

Besides  the  hajal  eddill,  there  exists  in  Egypt  a 
marionette  show,  whose  hero  bears  the  same  name 
as  the  protagonist  of  the  Turkish  shadow-play — 
Karagoz,  pronounced  in  the  Cairo  vernacular, 
Aragoz.9  Under  this  name  the  puppet-show  is 
mentioned  in  the  Description  de  VEgypte.10  Car- 
sten  Niebuhr u  also  describes  at  length  the  Cairo 
marionettes.      The    picture,    however,   which    he 

1  See  Priifer,  Ein  agypt.  Schattenspiel. 

2  See  Priifer,  '  Das  Schiffspiel '  (Beitr.  zur  Eenntn.  des  Or.). 

3  Jacob,  Gesch.  des  Schattentheaters,  p.  82. 

4  Priifer,  Ein  agypt.  Schattenspiel,  p.  xii ;  Kern,  Das  agypt. 
Schattentheater. 

5  For  information  concerning  the  Maghribine  shadow-play,  see 
Quedenfeldt,  '  Das  tiirk.  Schattenspiel  im  Maghrib  '  (Ausland, 
lxiii.  [Stuttgart,  1890]  pp.  904-908  and  921-924). 

6  Cf.  Jacob,  Gesch.  des  Schattentheaters,  p.  77,  and  Seybold, 
'  Zum  arab.  Schattenspiel,'  ZDilG  lvi.  (1902)  413  f. 

7  See  the  description  given  by  Priifer  in  Ein  agypt.  Schatten- 
spiel, pp.  v-ix. 

8  Zur  Gesch.  des  arab.  Schattentheaters  in  Egypten,  p.  6  f. 
After  this  was  written  Kable  found  in  Egypt  a  great  number  of 
very  fine  old  shadow-play  figures,  which  may  have  been  manu- 
factured as  early  as  the  13th  century. 

9  Kern,  Das  agypt.  Schattentheater,  p.  104. 

io  Description  de  VEgypte  ;  Etat  moderne,  xviii.  170  (2  1825). 
11  Reisebeschreibung  nach  Arabien  und  anderen  umliegenden 
Ldndern,  i.  188. 


DRAMA  (Arabic) 


876 


shows  on  plate  xxvi.  does  not  give  a  correct  idea 
of  the  modern  marionette  stage,  and  very  likely 
not  of  the  old  one.  Didier *  speaks  of  '  polichinelle 
arabe.'  But  an  exact  description  of  the  Egyptian 
Aragoz-play2  has  never  been  published,  nor  have 
its  texts  ever  appeared  in  print. 

The  only  Aragoz-player  known  to  the  writer  at 
the  present  time  [1911]  is  the  usta  Ahmad  'Ali  el- 
gudari,  who  lives  in  Bulaq,  in  the  Turguman 
quarter.  His  little  theatre  is  even  simpler  than 
that  of  the  shadow  stage ;  it  consists  of  a  folding 
booth  of  cloth,  not  much  higher  than  a  man's 
head ;  the  front  side  is  somewhat  lower  than  the 
other  sides,  and  the  player  sits  inside  this  ku&k9 
moving  on  his  fingers,  just  above  the  edge  of  the 
front  side,  the  roughly  made  wooden  figures,  which 
are  dressed  in  bits  of  coloured  cloth,  the  puppets 
being  visible  to  their  hips.  More  than  two  figures 
cannot  appear  at  the  same  time.  The  repertoire 
is  very  limited,  and,  just  as  in  the  Turkish 
shadow-play,  but  in  contrast  to  the  Egyptian 
hajal  eadillj  some  types  of  the  dramatis  persona! 
re-appear  in  every  play  (if  these  loosely  strung 
scenes  and  dialogues  can  be  called  plays) : 
e.g.  Aragoz,  the  cruel,  stupid,  yet  sly  clown, 
similar  to  the  characters  Punch,  Kasperle,  and 
Pulcinello,  and  the  dialect  types,3  such  as  the  loud- 
mouthed Turkish  soldier,  the  uncouth  Nubian,  and 
the  Italian  or  Greek  priest ;  then  the  saucy  beggar, 
and  the  different  female  figures  from  the  lively 
Ezbekije  quarter.  A  characteristic  feature  of 
Aragoz  is  the  high,  nasal  voice,  produced  by  the 
player  by  means  of  the  zwmmara,  a  little  whistle 
which  he  holds  in  his  teeth.  Aragoz  wears  the 
tarturf  or  pointed  fool's-cap.  The  player  has  an 
assistant  who  joins  the  audience  and  carries  on  the 
conversation  with  Aragoz  when  the  latter  is  alone 
on  the  stage  and  addresses  the  public. 

Considered  aesthetically  and  as  an  element  in 
the  development  of  Arabic  culture,  the  Aragoz- 
play  stands  on  a  much  lower  plane  than  the  hajal 
eddill.  Written  texts  apparently  do  not  exist,  and 
the  tradition  has  therefore  not  much  stability. 
Improvised  jokes  and  the  mood  of  the  player 
change  the  wording  of  the  piece  without  let  or 
hindrance.  The  show  is  occasionally  to  be  seen  at 
fairs  and  at  weddings  of  the  lowest  order. 

The  following  is  a  fasl,  or  marionette  play, 
dictated  to  the  writer  directly  by  Ahmad  el- 
Hud  arl  : 


Aragoz :  essalam  'alSkum 
naharak  sa'id  wemubarak  sala- 
mat  sarraf  tuna 5  wagarras- 
tuna.6  ah  jana  mjn  gharamuh 
win  kunt  ahibbak  lam  'alai  ja 
malama. 

Qindi  (a  Turkish  soldier  who 
had  been  asleep) :  abradana 
sana  sitikihim?  fallah  hasaas 
hanzir  jabn  elkalb  jin'al  abu 
ummak. 

Aragoz :  inta  magnun  walla 
mastul.8 

Qindi :  ana  ba'den  amauwi- 
tak. 


Peace  be  with  you  1  May 
your  day  be  happy  and  blessed  1 
My  compliments  !  You  have 
honoured  us  and  disgraced  us. 
Woe  be  unto  me  because  of 
my  love  for  you  !  But  if  I  love 
you,  I  cannot  be  blamed  for  it 
[a  very  obscene  Turkish  curse]. 

You  peasant !  You  hashish- 
smoker  I  Pig  !  Son  of  a  dog  1 
May  your  mother's  father  be 
cursed  1 

Are  you  crazy  or  drunk  ? 

Later  I  shall  kill  you. 


1  Les  Nuits  du  Caire,  p.  353  :  ' .  .  .  et  tout  pres  le  polichin- 
elle arabe  debitait  aux  badauds  see  lazzi  grivois,  car  le  theatre 
de  guignol  n'est  pas  le  privilege  exclusif  des  Champs-Elysees.' 

2  For  the  connexion  between  the  figure  of  Aragoz  (Karagoz) 
and  the  Egyptian  vizier  Karakul  of  the  13th  cent.,  see  Casa- 
nova in  M ('moires  publ.  par  les  membres  de  la  mission  archiol. 
francaise  du  Caire,  vi.  (1897)  447 ;  and  Kahle,  Zur  Gesch.  des 
arab.  Schattcntheaters  in  Egypten,  p.  17  f. 

3  Dialectic  peculiarities  form  an  essential  part  of  Egyptian 
folk-humour,  just  as  they  do  in  Turkish  folklore.  Cf.  Jacob, 
Turk.  Litteraturgesch.  in  Einzeldarstellungen,  pt.  i.  *  Das  tiirk. 
Schattentheater,'  Berlin,  1900,  pp.  29-37. 

4  See  Prufer,  Bin  dgypt.  Schattenspiel,  p.  40,  note  3. 

8  A  comical  over-politeness  such  as  one  often  finds  among 
ignorant  Egyptians.    Cf.  Prufer,  op.  cit.  p.  38. 

6  Said  jokingly  for  anistund,  *  we  are  glad  to  see  you.' 

7  Barbarous  Turkish  for  orada  anasyny  sikidim. 

8  <  Intoxicated '  (Spiro,  Arab.-Eng.  Vocabulary,  Lond.  1896). 


Aragoz  :  taijib  ruh  lihalak. 

Qindi :  win  nia-kuntiS  aruh. 
(Aragoz  beats  him.)  ti'mil  e  j& 
wad  oa'den  aniauwitak. 

Aragoz :  sarraftlna  wanis- 
tlna  ja  si  mauwitak. 


All  right  I  Go  about  your 
business. 

And  if  I  won't  go?  What  are 
you  doing,  boy?  Afterwards  I 
shall  kill  you  1 

You  have  honoured  us  and 

made   us  happy,    Mr.    I-shall- 

kill-you  I 

(The  soldier  beats  him  and  goes  away.) 


Aragoz  (to  the  audience) 
mauwituni  wadarabuni  wa- 
mazza'u  niinna  'ssakko  wazza- 
'but.1 

Voice  from_  Vie  audience : 
waba'den  baqa. 

Aragoz  :  aqul  limrati. 

Voice :  ismlha  e. 

Aragoz:  Bahita  ja  bint  ja 
Bahita  ja  mara  ja  Bahita. 

BafyLta  (who  is  not  his  wife, 
but  a  woman  of  a  public- 
house)  rsabbahak  her. 

Aragoz :  a'uzu  billah  ja 
Bahita. 

Bafyita :  ma  lak  ja  habibi 
ma  lak  ja  salat  ennabi  'alek  wa 
'ala  tarfurak  ja  habbet  'eni 
ta'ala  ja  habibi  neruh  genenet 
el-Ezbekije  nitfassah  sauwa. 


They  have  killed  me,  and 
beaten  me,  and  torn  my  jacket 
and  my  smock-frock  1 

Well,  and  then? 

I  shall  tell  my  wife  ! 
What's  her  name? 
Bahita.         Girl  1        Bahita  I 
Woman  1    Bahita  I 
May  your  day  be  happy  ! 


God  save  me,  Bahita  I 

What  is  the  matter  with  you, 
my  dear  ?  What  is  the  matter 
with  you,  oh  you,  on  whom 
and  whose  farfwr  be  the 
prayer  of  the  prophet !  You 
pupil  of  my  eye  I  Come,  my 
dear !  Let  us  go  to  the 
Ezbekije  garden,  and  take  a 
walk  there  together. 

Go  to  walk  in  the  cesspool  ! 
Go  away  from  here,  woman ! 
Go! 

Am  I  ugly?  Don't  I  please 
you? 

Your  face  is  like  the  face  of 
a  centipede. 


A  ragoz :  riihi  'tf assail  fi 
harrara  imSi  min  hina  ja  mara 
jalla. 

Bafyita :  ana  wiljsa  ana  mus 
a'gibak._ 

Aragoz :  inti  wisSik  zaijg 
wiss"  abu  sabat.2 

(Aragoz  beats  Bahita  off  the  stage,  and  knocks  with  hia 
nabbnt  on  the  wall.) 
Aragoz:    ja    bint   ja    Dudu        Girl  1    Dudu ! 
(calling  another  woman). 

(Dudu,  abominably  ugly,  appears,  coughing  excessively.) 
Aragoz  :  bass    bass  'ala  bet        Enough,     enough  !      [curse] 
abuki  'ala  't;$uL  upon  the  house  of  your  father 

at  once  1 
(He  beats  her  away  from  the  stage.) 
Aragoz  :  (knocking  again)  ja        Little  boy,  Berberine  ! 


wuled  ja  barbari. 

Barbari  (from  inside) :  ja 
Aragoz  ma  lak. 

Aragoz:  fen  huwa  "lbarbari 
(the  Berberine  appears)  da 
barbari  iswid  wamukassar  tih- 
dim  ja  barbari. 

Barbari :  haddaro  markubak 
'ala  habbet  'enak  min  foq.3 


Aragoz :       elbadawije  4 
salam  'alek  wa'alaija. 


ja 


Sahhdt  (beggar) :  'agiz  mas- 
kin  ax'dabbfi  bamja  5  wanuss 
lillah. 

Aragoz  :  wade  de  kaman. 

Sah-fyat :  Sahhat  'awiz  jakul. 

Aragoz :  takul  e. 

Sahfydt :  akul  ruzzS  wuruzz. 

Aragoz  :  ruzz6  e  wuruzzS  e. 

Sajifydt :  ruzzS  bilaban  wur- 
uzze  mefalfil. 

Aragoz :  (imitating  his  ac- 
cent) wuruzze1  mefalfil. 

Saliliat :  wabitingan  quta.    ■ 

Aragoz :  (beats  him)  hud 
ruzze  wuruzz. 

Gindi:  kamandur^  nimritak 
tili'et  fi  '1  'askarije  tahud  rutbet 
lawls  riglak  eljemin  gamb 
eisimal  imsik  elbaruda. 


Aragoz  :  tob  7  'alaija  ja  rabb. 


(Berberine  disappears.) 


What's  the  matter,  Aragoz  ? 

Where  is  the  Berberine  then? 
That  is  a  Berberine,  black  and 
sullen  !  Are  you  in  service, 
Berberine? 

Servant  of  your  shoe  !  Upon 
the  pupil  of  your  eye  from 
above. 

Oh,  ye  saints  1  Mercy  on  us, 
you  and  me  1 


[1  am]  infirm,  poor  I  For  the 
sake  of  God,  one  and  a  half 
ardabb  bamja ! 

Now  what's  this  again? 

A  beggar,  who  wishes  to  eat. 

What  do  you  wish  to  eat? 

I  would  like  to  eat  rice  and 
rice. 

What  kind  of  rice  and  what 
kind  of  rice  ? 

Bice  with  milk  and  rice 
pilav. 

And  rice  pilav  I 

And  tomatoes. 

Take  some  rice  and  rice  ! 

Who  is  there?  Your  num- 
ber came  out  for  military  ser- 
vice. You  will  have  the  rank 
of  a  iaun&.  Your  right  foot 
beside  the  left  1  Take  the 
musket ! 

Lead  me  to  repentance,  O 
Lord ! 


1  '  Sarrau  de  laine  brune,  ouvert  depuis  le  cou  jusqu'  a  la  cein- 
ture  et  ayant  les  manches  larges,  que  les  honimes  du  peuple 
portent  en  Egypte,  surtout  en  hiver'  (Dozy). 

2  Instead  of  kabath  ('  millepieds,  scolopendre  '  [Dozy]). 

3  The  meaning  of  this  sentence  is  very  ambiguous.  It  may 
mean  the  expression  of  obedience  as  well  as  that  of  a  curse. 

4  The  derwishes  of  the  order  of  Saiyid  Ahmad  el-BadawL 

5  One  ardabbt  a  measure  for  cereals,  is  equal  to  197"75  cubic 
litres.  Bamja,  hibiscus  (leguminous  plant)  (Spiro,  Arab.-Eng. 
Vocabulary). 

6  For  kimdir.  7  For  tauurib. 


876 


DRAMA  (Arabic) 


Present  arms  !    One,  two  ! 

Present  arms  ! 

You  have  killed  him  ! 


Gindi :  haz  dur  bir  hik.1 
Aragoz  :  haz  dor  (kills  him). 
Voice  from  audience  :  mau- 
wittuh. 

Aragoz :  wana  ma  li  ja  huja  That  is  all  the  same  to  me, 
,na  ma-mauwittus'.  my  brother  I    I  haven't  killed 

him  ! 
(He  brings  a  bier,  on  which  he  puts  the  dead  body. 
A  priest  appears  and  sings  a  parody  of  a  mass.) 
Priest:    morto    buona    sera        Deadl  Good  evening!  Adieu, 
addio  sfjorji.  Mr.  Jorji ! 

A  ragoz  :  la  ilaha  ilia  'llah  wa-  There  is  no  God  but  God, 
Muhammad  rasul  allah  qui  and  Muhammad  is  the  apostle 
kida  ja  'akrut.  of  God. '  Say  that,  you  scoun- 

drel! 
Priest :  la  ilaha  ilia  'llah.  There  is  no  God  but  God  ! 

(Exit  Aragoz.) 
Priest      (singing) :      morto,        Dead,  dead,  dead  ' 
morto,  morto  1 

(Enter  Aragoz.) 
Aragoz :    kaffartma    ja   se&        You  have  made  ua  infidels, 
(kills  him).  old  chap  ! 

Real  dramatic  art,  in  the  European  sense  of  the 
word,  is,  as  we  said  before,  a  foreign  and  compara- 
tively recent  phenomenon  in  the  Arabic  literature. 
The  farce  "which  Carsten  Niebuhr  saw  in  the  house 
of  an  Italian  in  Cairo,  and  which  had  to  be  broken 
off  prematurely  owing  to  its  lasciviousness,  seems, 
according  to  his  account,  to  have  been  nothing 
more  than  a  series  of  lewd-comic  scenes  without 
any  kind  of  plot  or  catastrophe,  in  the  manner  of 
the  Thu  Rabiya  performances,  manifestly  neither 
more  nor  less  than  an  Aragoz  representation, 
played  by  living  persons.2  The  piece  described  by 
Lane,3  giving  a  vivid  picture  of  the  corruption  of 
public  officials  of  the  time  of  Muhammad  'All,  is 
of  a  little  higher  order,  and  is  of  the  same  type  as 
the  modern  Arabic  comedy,  the  fasl  mudhik,  as  it 
is  played  in  Cairo  to-day.  All  that  Lane,  that 
unrivalled  observer  of  Egyptian  folk-life,  has  said 
about  the  Mohabbazeen,  the  actors  of  such  dramatic 
performances,  is  true  now  of  the  fasl  mudhik : 
*  Their  performances  are  scarcely  worthy  of  descrip- 
tion. It  is  chiefly  by  vulgar  jests  and  indecent 
actions  that  they  amuse  and  obtain  applause.' 
To-day,  too,  the  '  actors  are  only  men  and  boys/ 
the  latter  appearing  in  female  r61es  ; A  and  the 
fasl  mudhik,  like  Lane's  example,  still  has  some 
didactic  elements,  even  when  the  only  lesson 
taught  is  that  of  getting  the  better  of  a  European 
by  beating  and  cheating  him.  A  shade  better  are 
the  productions  of  the  Syrian  fasl  mudhiks  from 
Beirut  or  Damascus.6  A  Syrian  troupe,  with 
women  taking  the  female  rdles,  was  playing,  until 
a  little  while  ago,  in  Cairo  in  the  Syrian  Cafe 
Kamil ;  but  there  is  no  great  difference  between 
the  performances  of  this  company  and  those  which 
one  could  see,  up  to  a  short  time  ago,  in  the  two 
small  theatres  that  were  formerly  in  the  Fish 
Market  but  are  now  in  the  Sari'  Wagh  el-Birke. 

The  fasl  mudhik  last  seen  by  the  present  writer  in  one  of 
these  cafes  consists  of  a  number  of  clownish  scenes,  that 
always  end  in  the  whipping  of  one  of  the  participators.  The 
chief  character  of  the  flimsy  plot  is  the  servant  Husen,  who 
appears  in  a  pierrot  costume.6  He  makes  a  dupe  of  his  master 
(an  officer)  by  entering  into  illicit  relations  with  the  latter's 
wife.    The  deceived  husband  notices  from  time  to  time,  of 

1  Military  terms  in  barbarous  Turkish. 

2  Almost  the  same  description  is  found  in  Description  de 
VEgypte"-  (1825),  p.  172  f. 

3  Manners  and  Customs,  pp.  357-359. 

4  See  Kern,  Das  agypt.  Schattentheater,  p.  103  f. 

5  See  Kern,  '  Neuere  agypt.  Huraoristen  und  Satiriker ' 
(Mitteilungen  des  Seminars  f.  orient.  Sprachen,  ix.  [Berlin, 
1906]).  A  Syrian  fasl  mudhik  is  the  Riwdyat  elguhald  elmudda 
'in  bil'ilm,  by  Ibrahim  Bek  et-Tabib,  Beirut,  n.  d. 

6  The  European  fool's  costume  of  Husen  points  to  the 
Frankish  origin  of  the  fasl  mudhik,  and,  just  as  in  the  Aragoz- 
play,  which  is  without  doubt  nothing  but  a  Pulcinello  theatre 
orientalized  by  the  influence  of  the  Turkish  Karagoz,  some  of  the 
dramatis  personce  are  the  same  types  for  all  pieces.  From 
these  types  one  easily  recognizes  Italy  as  the  home  of  the  fail 
mudhik.  The  Arlechino  of  th?  Italian  commedia  dell'  arte  is 
the  stupidly  bold,  sly  servant ;  and  the  cowardly  boasting  Greek 
we  also  find  in  Scarramucia ;  the  coquettish,  amiable  little 
woman,  who  is  not  altogether  too  scrupulous  in  keeping  her 
nuptial  vows,  is  the  Columbine  type.  The  dialectic  humour  is 
perhaps  the  result  of  shadow-play  influence. 


course,  the  love-making  that  is  going  on  behind  his  back,  and 
the  result  is  a  series  of  roughly  ludicrous  mistakes  and  mystifi- 
cations.  For  instance,  the  servant  embraces  his  master,  who 
has  seated  himself,  unnoticed  by  the  servaut,  in  his  wife 
chair,  and  receives  as  a  reward  a  box  on  the  ear.  A  boastful, 
silly  European— a  Greek  (dialect  type),  with  a  battered  tall  hat 
and  a  bright  red  British  uniform — is  beaten  continually  through- 
out the  play.  The  other  characters  are  a  saucy  beggar  woman, 
a  cook,  and  three  hardmije  (robbers) ;  the  last  named,  with 
the  help  of  the  servant,  steal  the  clothes  of  the  officer  from  his 
body  while  he  sleeps.  The  dialogue,  as  is  always  the  case  in  a 
fasl  mudhik,  is  in  prose,  and  in  the  vernacular  of  the  lowest 
elements  of  the  population.  It  is  full  of  invectives  and  obsceni- 
ties. Sometimes  the  fasl  mudhik,  of  which  there  is  a  great 
variety,  are  preceded  by  a  performance  of  the  famous  dance  de 
ventre  or  by  a.  fasl  of  the  shadow-play. 

A  number  of  such  farces  in  the  vernacular  have  been  published 
in  Cairo  of  late;1  but  they  are  very  seldom  played,  as  they 
naturally  do  not  contain  the  flagrant  indecencies  which  would 
make  them  popular  with  the  public.  One  of  the  best  of  these 
piecesis  Hat  li  min  de,  'Give  me  some  of  That,'  by  Ahmad 
Hamdi  er-Rasidi.  The  piece,  a  modern  variation  of  an  old 
fairy-tale  subject,  shows  clearly  the  characteristics  of  the  fa§l 
mudhik.  Nadim  Efendi  has  engaged  the  Syrian  Amin  as  a 
servant  and  watcher  for  his  daughter  Farida.  Amin  displays  a 
very  impudent  manner  towards  his  master,  and  falls  in  love  with 
Farida.  The  three  friends  of  Nadim — Si  Gara,  Si  Fon,  and  Si 
Finga — come  one  by  one  to  sue  for  the  hand  of  Farida  for  their 
sons  'Aziz,  Gamil,  and  Farld.  Nadim  gives  his  consent  to  each 
one  provided  he  presents  a  bridal  gift  of  unsurpassable  value. 
The  curious  names  of  the  guests  ('  Cigarette,'  '  Siphon,'  and 
'Sponge')  are  a  source  of  rude  jokes  for  the  jealous  Amin.  In 
the  second  act  the  three  suitors  meet  by  chance  in  a  hotel  in 
Malta.  Each  displays  his  bridal  gift.  Gamil  has_  a  mirror  in 
which  one  can  see  things  at  a  great  distance  ;  Fand  has  lemons 
that  can  waken  the  dead ;  and  'Aziz  has  a  carpet  upon  which 
one  can  ride  through  the  air.  In  order  to  test  their  presents 
they  look  into  the  mirror  and  see  Farida  upon  her  death-bed, 
whereupon  they  travel  quickly  on  'Aziz's  carpet  to  Cairo,  and 
by  means  of  the  lemons  bring  Farida  back  to  life.  Then  (third 
act),  since  they  cannot  agree  among  themselves  as  to  who  shall 
marry  her,  they  go  to  the  qddi  Si  Boja,  whose  daughter  gives  a 
fetwa  (judgment  founded  on  canon  law)  in  favour  of  Farid,  and, 
in  characteristic  Oriental  manner,  consolingly  advises  the  other 
two  suitors  to  sell  their  bridal  gifts.  The  servant,  who  acts 
the  clown  throughout  the  piece,  also  goes  with  the  others  to 
the  qddi,  but  his  suit  naturally  meets  with  no  success. 

Besides  these  more  or  less  original  Arabic  works, 
there  is  to-day  a  European  drama  that  has  been 
consciously  and  artificially  transplanted  into  the 
Arabic  Orient.  The  initiative  herein  came  from 
Syria.  Martin  b.  Iljas  b.  Miha'Il-Naqqas  (born 
1817  at  Saida  in  Lebanon)  was  the  first  who  tried 
to  make  this  innovation.  Of  the  life  and  works  of 
this  man  we  have  an  excellent  account  in  the 
records  made  by  his  brother  and  follower  Niqula.2 
While  he  was  still  a  boy,  Marun's  family  moved  to 
Beirut,  which  was  then,  as  now,  the  intellectual 
centre  of  Syria.  Here  he  was  brought  up  accord- 
ing to  old-fashioned  Arabic  ideas,  his  naturally 
good  taste  being  therefore  quickly  spoiled  by  the 
forced  learning  of  syntax,  grammar,  stylistics, 
metrics,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  huge  chaos  of 
scholastic  knowledge.  When  he  was  but  eighteen 
years  of  age,  he  began  to  compose  poems.  This 
did  not  prevent  him,  however,  from  studying  Euro- 
pean book-keeping  and  commercial  law,  and  from 
learning  Turkish,  French,  and  Italian.  In  his 
thirtieth  year  he  went  to  Italy,  where  he  saAV  for 
the  first  time  a  large  European  theatre.  The  play 
so  impressed  him  that,  after  his  return  to  Beirut 
in  the  year  1848,  he  wrote  a  drama  in  the  Euro- 

1  Riwdyat  hat  li  min  de,  by  Ahmad  Hamdi  er-Rasidi  (Cairo, 
1907).  Other  pieces  of  this  kind  are":  Riwdyat  Ba'gar,_  by 
Muhammad  Efendi  Husni  (Cairo,  n.  d.);  and  the  Riwayat 
ezzawdg  binnabbut  walbahil  el'akrut  (Cairo,  anon,  and  n.  d.). 
The  latter  is  a  variation  of  the  popular  type  of  L'Avare,  who  is 
cured  of  his  greed  after  great  money-losses.  The  same  theme  is 
treated  by  Muhammad  Efendi  Safiq,  in  the  fasl  elbahil.  Still  other 
pieces  are  Sadr  elbaghd&a,  by  Amin  Saiyid  Ahmad  'Abd  el- Wahid 
ez-Zaiyat  (Cairo,  n.  d.),  a  piece  in  which  the  different  beggar- 
types  are  shown  ;  a  play  with  a  purpose  of  the  kind  described 
by  Lane  is  the  Riwdyat  elmuhaddamin,  by  Muhammad  Be 
'Othman  Galal,  printed  after  the  death  of  the  author.  This 
little  comedy  scourges  the  deceptions  and  tricks  of  servant- 
intermediaries. 

2  After  the  death  of  his  brother,  Niqula  published  three  of  his 
theatrical  pieces  under  the  title  Arzat  Lubndn  (Beirut,  1569). 
He  gives  an  extensive  biography  of  his  brother  in  the  preface. 
A  strangely  mistaken  remark  concerning  this  book  is  found  in 
C.  Huart's  B.  istory  of  Arabic  Literature  (Eng.  ed.,  London,  1903), 
p.  420  :  '  Nicolas  NaqqaS,  who  was  born  at  Saida  in  1817,  died  ac 
Tarsus  in  1855,  having  written  a  play  called  Arzat  Lubndn.' 


DRAMA  (Arabic) 


87' 


pean  style,  called  it  ElbahU1  ('The  Miser'),  and 
soon  afterwards  produced  it  in  his  own  house 
before  an  invited  audience,  amongst  whom  were 
all  the  foreign  consuls  and  the  governor  of  the 
Lebanon  Province.  The  actors  were  young  friends 
of  the  author.  This  attempt  was  followed  by  a 
second  in  1850,  Abu  'l-Hasan  el-Mughaffal,  a 
dramatic  version  of  the  well-known  story  of  Harun 
ar-Rasid  and  Abu  '1  Hasan  from  the  Arabian 
Nights ;  and  then,  encouraged  by  the  success  of 
this  piece  (which,  by  the  way,  is  still  given),  Marvin 
Naqqas,  with  the  permission  of  the  Sultan,  founded 
in  Beirut  a  permanent  stage,  where  he  brought  out 
his  Eiwayat  elhasud  ('The  Jealous  Man').  The 
plays  of  his  brother  Niqula,  Eiich  elgdhil  (written 
1840)  and  Babi'a  ibn  Zed  elmukaddam  (written 
1852)  also  made  their  first  appearance  in  this 
theatre.  In  1S55,  while  on  a  business  trip,  Marvin 
died  of  fever  in  Tarsus,  and  two  years  later  his 
body  was  transferred  by  his  family  to  Beirut  and 
there  buried  with  great  ceremony. 

After  Marvin's  death  the  theatrical  art  suffered  a 
decline,2  and  it  was  not  until  1860  that  Niqula 
Naqqas  resuscitated  the  Easud  on  his  brother's  old 
stage.  In  the  same  year  Niqula  published,  in  one 
book,3  Marvin's  three  pieces,  which  are  a  kind  of 
light  opera,  comedies  with  musical  accompaniment 
and  interspersed  with  numerous  songs  and  dances. 

We  give,  as  an  example,  the  contents  of  the  first  piece.  The 
extremely  miserly,  rich  Qarrad,  a  man  of  advanced  years,  had 
made  an  agreement  with  the  greedy  old  Tha'labito  marry  the 
latter's  daughter  Hind,  a  young  widow.  He  comes  for  the 
wedding  to  the  house  of  Tha'labi,  but  Hind  loves  young  'Isa,  the 
friend  of  her  brother  Ghali.  These  three,  and  the  old  servant 
Umm  RTsa,  slyly  plot  together  to  make  Qarrad  give  up  his  plans 
of  marriage,  and  at  the  same  time  to  part  with  some  of  his 
beloved  money.  Hind  makes  such  extravagant  demands  of 
Qarrad  that  he  finally  wishes  nothing  more  ardently  than  to  be 
rid  of  her.  Hind,  however,  now  declares  that  she  will  not 
release  him ;  in  the  meantime  Ghali  appears,  disguised  as  a 
Turkish  agha,  with  his  secretary  'Isa  and  several  soldiers.  By 
means  of  threats  and  thrashings  they  force  Qarrad  to  pay  to  'Isa 
a  large  sum  of  money  as  a  compensation  to  Hind,  who  there- 
upon marries  'Isa.  Finally,  the  supposed  Turks  confess  their 
deception  to  Qarrad,  who  is  by  this  time  very  much  ashamed  of 
himself,  and  freely  forgives  them. 

The  language  of  the  play  is  affected  and  heavy,  the  piece 
itself,  with  its  five  weak  acts,  extremely  tiresome.  When  the 
author  makes  a  joke,  the  publisher  thinks  it  necessary  to  call 
the  reader's  attention  to  the  fact  in  a  footnote.  Here  again  we 
have,  as  the  comic  elements,  the  dialect  types — Umm  Risa  the 
peasant  woman  from  Lebanon,  Ghali  the  Turk,  and  'Isa  the 
Egyptian  secretarj'. 

Under  the  influence  of  the  brothers  Naqqas, 
several  theatrical  companies  were  formed  in  Syria ; 
but,  as  there  were  no  trained  actors  to  be  had,  the 
authors  or  translators  saw  themselves  obliged,  if 
they  wished  to  have  their  plays  produced,  to  form 
and  train  a  troupe  of  amateurs.  Famous  as  author, 
director,  and  rigisseur  all  in  one  person,  were 
especially  Seh  Abu  Halil  el-Qabbanl  in  Beirut,  and 
Iskander  Farah  in  Damascus.  The  latter,  more 
organizer  and  actor  than  author,  was  born  in 
Damascus  in  1855,  the  year  of  the  death  of  Marvin 
Naqqas.  He  attended  the  Jesuit  school  in  that 
city  and  there  became  acquainted,  through  amateur 
school  dramatics,  with  European  drama.  En- 
couraged by  Midhat  Pasha,  who  lived  at  the  time 
in  Damascus,  he  produced,  in  a  public  garden,  his 
first  play,  a  translation  from  the  French.  He  then 
moved  to  Beirut,  where  he  joined  with  Sell  Abu 
Halil  in  forming  a  theatrical  enterprise  ;  but  owing 
to  intrigues  his  licence  was  taken  from  him,  so 
that  he  saw  himself  compelled  to  settle  per- 
manently with  Abu  Halil  in  Cairo  (in  1882),  where 
he  and  his  partner  had  already  made  successful 
tours.  From  this  time  dated  the  existence  of  a 
theatre  in  European  style  in  Egypt.     In  the  Ooq 

'  el-  ' 


isrl  el'arabi  (in  the  Sari'  'Abd  el- Aziz  in  Cairo) 

1  See  Arzat  Lubndn,  p.  4  :   "...  The  play  Elbahil,  which  was 
the  first  drama  given  in  our  Arabic  tongue.  .  .  .' 

2  lb.  p.  5 :    *  Hereafter  this  kind  of  art  was  buried  with  its 
initiator  and  nearly  forgotten.' 

8  Arzat  Lubndn  (Beirut,  1869) 


a  great  many  pieces — mostly  translations  and  only 
a  few  original  works — have  appeared  above  the 
footlights. 

This  theatre  has  not  proved  to  be  a  success  of  late,  owing 
partly  to  the  death  of  Iskander  Farah's  partner,  Abu  Halil,  but 
especially  because  of  the  attitude  of  one  of  the  actors,  Seh 
Salama  el-HigazI,  whom  Farah  himself  had  taught.  Salama 
separated  from  his  master  and  founded  a  theatre  of  his  own, — 
the  Ddr  ettamthil  el'arabi, — and  induced  a  number  of  Farah's 
actors  to  accompany  him.  In  contrast  to  the  Christian  Syrian 
Iskander  Farah,  Salama  was  a  Muslim  and  an  Egyptian,  and 
that  was  enough  to  secure  him  the  affections  of  the  Cairo  public. 
Then,  too,  he  laid  more  weight  on  the  musical  part  of  hiB  per- 
formance than  his  old  master  had  done,  and  the  Egyptians  love 
nothing  so  much  as  singing  and  the  music  of  their  national 
orchestra.  In  1909,  Seh  Salama  had  an  apoplectic  stroke,  which 
partially  paralyzed  him,  so  that  his  acting  days  are  probably 
over. 

A  number  of  small  wandering  theatrical  troupes 
have  branched  off  from  the  theatre  of  Iskander 
Farah.  One  often  stumbles  upon  them  in  Syria 
and  Egypt.  The  best  known  in  Egypt  are  the  com- 
panies of  'Auwad  Farld,  Ahmad  HigazI,  Ibrahim 
Ahmad,  and  Seh  Ahmad  es-Saml.  The  last  named 
was  to  be  seen  in  the  winter  of  1908  in  Luxor  in 
Borneo  and  Juliet.  The  late  Naglb  el-Haddad, 
one  of  the  most  prolific  translators  of  European 
plays,  also  experimented  with  a  troupe  of  his  own. 
In  Syria,  'Aziz 'Id  and  Rahmln  Blbis  are  the  chief 
followers  of  Iskander  Farah's  school ;  the  only  one 
of  Farah's  pupils  who  went  to  the  Maghrib — 
Sollman  el-Qirdahl — died  in  the  summer  of  1909  in 
Tunis. 

Amateur  theatrical  clubs  have  been  started  in 
several  places  in  Egypt.  The  most  important  of 
these  is  the  Gairiijet  el-Ma  arif  in  Cairo ;  it  was 
founded  by  Iskander  Farah  in  1886,  and  is  still 
under  his  direction.  There  was  a  similar  club  by 
the  name  of  Gamifet  taraqqi  'ttamthil  eVadabi  in 
Mansfira.1 

It  is  utterly  impossible  to  give  an  approximately 
complete  bibliography  of  the  Arabic  dramatic 
literature  of  to-day,  as  there  is  an  unusually  great 
productivity  along  this  line  at  the  present  time. 
Most  of  the  works  are  translations,  of  which  the 
only  really  valuable  ones  are  the  excellent  render- 
ings, in  the  vernacular,  of  some  of  the  writings  of 
Racine  and  Moliere  by  the  late  Muhammad  Be 
'Othman  Galal.2  Unfortunately  these  pieces,  in 
which  the  highly  talented  translator  has  shown  his 
ability  to  render  the  tone  of  the  originals  in  the 
idiomatic  peculiarities  of  his  own  language,  have 
never  been  recognized  by  the  stage.  The  stiff', 
ridiculous  Shakespeare  translations3  do  not  show 
the  least  trace  of  the  spirit  of  the  great  British 
master,  and  still  less  worthy  of  mention  are  the 
childishly  Arabized  French  dramas 4  of  the  Romance 
period.  A  little  better  are  the  different  dramatiza- 
tions of  the  stories  from  the  Arabian  Nights'  and 

1  We  are  indebted  to  Mr.  Taufiq  Farah,  the  brother  and 
manager  of  Iskander  Farah,  for  the  greater  part  of  these 
statements. 

2  See  Nallino,  L'Arabo  parlato  in  Egitto  (Milan,  1900),  pp. 
349-351.  The  translations  of  Muhammad  Be  'Othman  Galal  are 
as  follows : — Esseh  elmatluf  (Tartuffe,  by  Moliere),  Cairo,  1873, 
reprinted  in  1890  with  Ennisd'  ul  'dlimdt  (Femmes  savantes) ; 
Madraset  el  'azwdg  {Ecole  des  Maris) ;  and  Madraset  ennisd 
(Ecole  des  Femmes)  under  the  title  El'arba'  riwdydt  mm  nuhab 
ettijdtrdt ;  Erriu'djdt  elmufida  fi  'ilm  ettaragida  (Esther, 
Iphige'nie  and  Alexandre,  by  Racine),  Cairo,  1893;  Riwdyat 
ettuqald  (Les  Fdcheux,  by  Moliere),  Cairo,  1896.  The  Seh 
matluf,  the  Madraset  el  'azwdg  and  Ennisa'  ul  'dlimdt  have 
been  published  in  European  transcription.  See  Vollers,  '  Der 
neuarab.  Tartufle'  (ZDMG  xlv.  [1891]  36-96);  Sobernheim, 
Madraset  el  'azwdg ;  arab.  Conibdie  transkriburt  und  ins 
Deutsche  iibersetzt  (Berlin,  1896) ;  Kern,  Innisd'  ul  'dlimdt : 
neuarab.  Bearbeitung  von  Moliere's  Femmes  savantes  tran- 
skribiert,  iibersetzt,  etc.  (Leipzig,  1898). 

3  For  example,  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Samlet,  and  Othello. 

4  Eernani,  Marie  Tudor,  by  Victor  Hugo  ;  Katherine  Howard, 
by  A.  Dumas  ;  Fernande,  by  Sardou  ;  Severe  Torelli,  by  Ohnet ; 
L'Africaine,  by  Scribe,  and  many  others.  The  chief  translators, 
besides  the  already  mentioned  Nagib  Haddad,  are  Tanius  'Abduh, 
Halil  MiriSaq,  Farah  Antun,  BiSara  Ean'an,  and  Sam'an  el- 
Asgar. 

5  From  the  Arabian  Nights  have  been  dramatized,  among 
others,  the  stories  of  Harun  ar-Rasid  and  Qut  al-Qulub,  by 
Mahmud  Wasif,  and  Uns  al-Galls,  by  Abu  Halil  el-Qabb^ni. 


878 


DRAMA  (Chinese) 


from  the  Arabian  history  and  hero-legends.1  The 
only  other  class  that  is  somewhat  worthy  of  notice 
is  the  drama  with  a  political  purpose.2  Here 
genuine  feeling  has  succeeded  in  instilling  a  little 
life  into  the  inflexible,  stilted,  Arabic  literary 
style. 

Whether  a  well-developed  branch  will  ever  grow 
from  the  scion  of  Western  dramatics  that  has  been 
grafted  upon  the  Arabic  literature  seems  to  the 
present  writer  to  be  somewhat  doubtful,  and  it  is 
not  only  the  lack  of  dramatic  feeling,  natural  to 
the  Arab  through  race  and  religious  peculiarities, 
that  prevents  him  from  finding  the  way  to  dramatic 
art ;  it  is  also  the  character  of  his  language.  The 
Arabic  literary  language  is  petrified — an  artificially 
preserved  corpse,  which  pleases  only  its  preservers, 
the  literary  gild  and  the  'ulama.  The  people 
hardly  understand  this  language,  and  do  not  recog- 
nize themselves  or  their  feelings  when  so  presented 
to  them.  The  living  idiom,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  in  which  the  Arab  thinks  and  speaks,  is 
scorned  and  regarded  as  vulgar  by  priests  and 
pseudo-learned  men,  who  see  the  end  of  their  own 
glory  in  the  decay  of  that  idolized,  thousand-year- 
old  mummy,  the  fetish  of  the  holiness  of  God's 
language.  Before  anything  great  can  be  created, 
either  in  the  province  of  the  drama  or  in  Arabic 
literature  in  general,  the  modern  writer  must  cease 
to  work  with  forms,  words,  and  metaphors  of  the 
language  of  nomadic  desert  tribes  of  fifteen  hundred 
years  ago. 

Literature. — The  literature  has  been  given  fully  in  the  foot- 
notes. Curt  Prufer. 

DRAMA  (Chinese).  —  Music  and  dancing  are 
frequently  mentioned  in  the  Chinese  classics.  For 
instance,  in  the  days  of  Confucius  we  read  of  the 
services  held  in  the  ancestral  temples  of  princes 
and  great  nobles,  when  there  were  men  arranged 
in  rows,  who  moved  in  time  with  the  music,  and 
brandished  feathers,  flags,  or  other  articles.  More- 
over, in  those  times,  and  even  later,  dancing  of  a 
slow  and  dignified  character  formed  part  of  civil 
as  well  as  of  religious  ceremonies.  Thus  at  public 
feasts  there  were  performances  representing  the 
joys  of  harvest,  the  fatigues  of  war,  the  pleasures 
of  peace,  and  suchlike  subjects.  According  to  one 
theory,  the  regular  drama  was  gradually  evolved 
from  these  displays ;  but  there  are  persons  who 
maintain  that  it  was  purely  exotic,  having  been 
introduced  into  China  from  the  West.  One  writer 
says,  perhaps  with  some  boldness  : 

'  The  whole  idea  of  the  Chinese  play  is  Greek.  The  mask, 
the  chorus,  the  music,  the  colloquy,  the  scene,  and  the  act  are 
Greek.'  '  The  Chinese  took  the  idea,  and  worked  up  the  play 
from  their  own  history  and  their  own  social  life.'  '  The  whole 
conception  of  the  play  is  foreign,  while  the  details  and  language 
are  Chinese '  (J.  Dyer  Ball,  Things  Chinese  \  p.  707). 

The  highest  literary  authorities  among  the 
Chinese  agree  in  dividing  the  history  of  their 
drama  into  three  distinct  periods.  The  first  of 
these  is  the  latter  part  of  the  T'ang  dynasty  (A.D. 
720-906) ;  the  second,  the  Sung  dynasty  (A.D.  960- 
1126) ;  the  third,  the  Chin  and  Yuan  dynasties 
(A.D.  1126-1367).  One  very  great  writer  of  the 
13th  cent.,  Ma  Tuan-lin,  gives  581  instead  of  720 
as  the  earliest  date ;  but  it  is  generally  agreed  that 
his  view  was  based  on  a  misconception. 

No  specimens  of  the  T'ang  dynasty  plays  have 
been  preserved ;  but  it  is  said  that  they  were  his- 
torical in  character,  and  also  that  pieces  were 
played  of  which  the  prologue  was  recited  by  an 
actor  called  'the  introducer  of  the  play.' 

In  the  time  of  the  Sung  dynasty,  it  was  custom- 

1  e.g.  Riwdyat  $aldh  addin,  by  Nagib  el-Haddad,  Alexandria, 
1898. 

2  The  most  prominent  are  Riwdyat  el-'Azhar  (Cairo,  1909), 
and  Riwdyat  Densawdi  (Cairo,  1907),  by  ^lasan  Mar'i.  The 
latter  is  reviewed  in  the  Revue  du  Monde  musulman,  vol.  iii. 
Kov.-Dec,  nos.  11-12,  Paris,  1907,  pp.  504-509.  The  representa- 
tion of  both  pieces  is  forbidden  by  the  Egyptian  Government. 


ary  to  sing  the  greater  portion  of  the  play.  The 
plot  was  very  simple,  and  everything  was  sacrificed 
to  the  lyric  parts.  Further,  the  action  was  ham- 
pered by  a  convention  limiting  the  number  of  the 
actors  in  the  play  to  five. 

The  third,  or  Yuan,  period  is  the  golden  age  of 
the  Chinese  drama.  The  plays  written  at  that 
time,  or  shortly  afterwards,  not  only  surpassed 
their  predecessors,  but  have  never  been  equalled 
by  later  writers.  Moreover,  the  alterations  and 
novelties  then  introduced  have  since  remained  un- 
changed. Indeed,  it  may  be  said  that  the  drama 
of  the  Yuan  times  '  is  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
the  drama  of  to-day '  (H.  A.  Giles,  Chinese  Litera- 
ture, p.  258). 

The  list  of  the  Yuan  dramatic  authors  comprises 
85  persons,  of  whom  four  were  women  ('  actresses,' 
as  the  name  by  which  they  are  described  should 
probably  be  translated).  There  are  extant  564 
plays,  of  which  105  are  by  anonymous  writers. 
Practically  all  kinds  of  subjects  are  represented 
among  them.  There  are  mythological,  historic, 
religious,  and  domestic  plays ;  comedies  of  char- 
acter, and  comedies  of  intrigue.  There  is  no  formal 
division  into  tragedy  and  comedy  ;  but  a  play  be- 
longs to  one  class  rather  than  to  the  other,  according 
to  the  subject  and  the  way  in  which  it  is  treated. 
Every  rank  of  life  is  represented,  from  the  Emperor 
to  the  humble  slave  girl.  Even  gods  and  goddesses 
appear  and  speak.  It  is  nominally  illegal  to  put 
on  the  stage  Emperors,  Empresses,  and  great  men 
of  old  ;  but  the  law  is  entirely  disregarded.  The 
dialogue  is  in  the  ordinary  spoken  language,  vary- 
ing in  some  degree  according  to  the  social  position 
of  the  character  speaking.  In  the  historical  plays 
it  is  further  removed  than  in  the  others  from  the 
language  of  common  conversation.  There  is  no 
chorus,  hut  the  actors  constantly  break  out  into 
song.  These  songs  express  the  most  passionate 
parts,  and  therefore  they  are  given  only  to  the 
leading  characters. 

A  play  consists  usually  of  five  acts,  or  rather  of 
four  acts  and  an  introductory  part,  called  '  the 
opening,'  in  which  the  principal  characters  come 
on,  describe  themselves,  and  give  any  information 
that  may  be  necessary  as  to  former  doings.  If 
there  is  no  '  opening,'  the  descriptions  and  informa- 
tion are  given  in  the  first  of  the  four  acts,  and  the 
unfolding  of  the  story  is  left  to  the  second.  But, 
as  there  is  no  curtain  to  fall,  and  no  stopping  at 
the  end  of  the  acts,  the  distinction  between  them 
is  hardly  noticeable  on  the  stage.  Entries  and 
exits  are  marked  in  the  books,  and  so  are  the 
'asides,'  for  which  there  is  a  technical  name.  The 
famous  play  called  the  Pi-pa-ki  consists  of  24 
scenes,  or,  according  to  another  arrangement,  of 
42  scenes. 

In  theory  every  Chinese  play  should  have  a  moral 
object,  and  the  serious  drama  is  supposed  to  place 
on  the  stage  scenes  which  will  lead  the  spectator 
to  the  practice  of  virtue.  Actually,  their  tendency 
is  on  the  side  of  justice  and  morality  ;  and,  as  re- 
gards decency,  they  are,  at  any  rate  in  their  written 
form,  entirely  free  from  objection. 

In  addition  to  the  serious  pieces,  which  form  the 
bulk  of  the  plays  acted,  there  are  also  farces,  which 
are  generally  brought  in  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
bill,  and  are  highly  appreciated  by  the  audience. 
They  '  depend  for  their  attractiveness  upon  the 
droll  gesticulations,  impromptu  allusions  to  pass- 
ing occurrences,  and  excellent  pantomimic  action  of 
the  performers'  (S.  W.  Williams,  Middle  Kingdom, 
i.  715).  In  these  farces  there  is  much  'gagging,' 
and  the  actors  often  lapse  into  coarseness. 

To  return  to  the  serious  drama.  It  is  true  that 
Chinese  plays  do  not,  as  a  rule,  possess  much  intri- 
cacy of  plot ;  but  we  think  that  their  merits,  in 
many  respects,  will  not  be  denied  by  any  one  who 


DRAMA  (Greek) 


879 


can  keep  in  mind  that  both  Chinese  ideals  and 
Chinese  modes  of  expression  often  dili'er  consider- 
ably from  our  own.  They  are  certainly  remarkable 
in  both  distinctness  and  consistency  of  character- 
ization. As  regards  other  qualities,  a  very  high 
authority  has  recently  said  of  the  famous  '  Story 
of  a  Lute '  (Pi-pa-ki),  that  '  it  is  not  only  truly 
pathetic  in  the  conception  and  the  main  situations 
of  its  action,  but  includes  scenes  of  singular  grace 
and  delicacy  of  treatment'  (A.  W.  Ward,  in  EBrn, 
viii.  486).  Of  another  great  play,  '  The  Sorrows  of 
Han,'  its  distinguished  translator,  Sir  John  Davis, 
wrote  that '  the  grandeur  and  gravity  of  the  subject, 
the  rank  and  dignity  of  the  personages,  the  tragical 
catastrophe,  and  the  strict  award  of  poetical  justice, 
might  satisfy  the  most  rigid  admirer  of  Grecian 
rules'  (China,  p.  92).  In  order  to  give  the  reader 
some  idea  of  what  the  Chinese  historical  drama  is 
like,  we  insert  here  a  short  sketch  of  this  play. 
The  events  described  in  it  are  partially  founded 
upon  fact.  The  scene  is  laid  in  the  1st  cent.  B.C., 
at  a  time  when  China  was  weak  and  the  Tatars 
were  strong. 

The  play  opens  in  Tartary.  The  Tatar  Khan  appears,  and 
announces  that,  in  accordance  with  an  hereditary  right,  he  has 
sent  to  demand  of  the  Emperor  of  China  the  hand  of  a  princess 
in  marriage.  The  second  scene  is  in  China,  and  shows  the 
Emperor  entrusting  a  minister  with  the  task  of  selecting 
beauties  for  his  harem.  The  minister  discovers  a  maiden  of 
surpassing  loveliness.  He  demands  from  her  parents  a  large 
sum  of  money  as  a  bribe,  but  they  are  too  poor  to  give  it  to 
him.  He  therefore  contrives  that,  though  the  maiden  is  ad- 
mitted to  the  palace,  her  charms  shall  remain  unknown  to  the 
Emperor.  A  chance  causes  them  to  be  discovered,  and  she 
becomes  the  Imperial  favourite.  The  faithless  minister  is  con- 
demned to  death  ;  but  he  escapes,  and  takes  refuge  at  the  court 
of  the  Khan.  To  revenge  himself,  he  shows  the  Khan  the  lady's 
picture,  declaring  that  she  would  have  come  in  response  to  the 
Khan's  demand,  but  the  Emperor  would  not  permit  her ;  he 
(the  minister)  had  remonstrated  with  his  master  for  thus  em- 
broiling two  nations,  and  had  been  forced  to  flee  for  his  life : 
let  the  Khan  demand  the  princess,  and  she  must  be  given  to 
him.  Overcome  by  the  beauty  of  the  portrait,  the  Khan  de- 
spatches an  envoy  with  a  threat  of  war,  and  prepares  for  the 
invasion  of  China.  Next,  the  lady,  now  a  princess,  ia  adorning 
herself  in  the  palace ;  the  Emperor  comes  in,  and  shows  his 
admiration.  The  chief  minister  enters  and  reports  the  arrival 
of  the  envoy  with  the  Khan's  demand.  The  envoy  is  received. 
After  the  audience  the  Emperor  takes  counsel  with  his  ministers. 
He  wishes  to  appeal  to  arms  ;  but  the  case  is  adjudged  hopeless. 
The  princess  declares  her  willingness  to  sacrifice  herself  for  her 
country's  sake,  in  spite  of  her  love  for  the  Emperor.  The 
Emperor  at  last  consents,  and  the  sad  parting  takes  place.  The 
Khan  is  seen  at  the  head  of  his  troops,  leading  away  the  prin- 
cess. The  army  is  on  the  march.  It  arrives  at  the  bank  of  a 
river,  the  boundary  of  the  Chinese  empire.  The  princess  ad- 
dresses the  Khan  :  'Great  King,  I  take  a  cup  of  wine  and  pour 
a  libation  towards  the  south,  my  last  farewell  to  the  Emperor.' 
She  pours  the  libation,  and  cries,  '  Emperor,  this  life  is  finished. 
I  await  thee  in  the  next.'  She  throws  herself  into  the  river  and 
is  drowned.  The  Khan  laments,  orders  her  burial,  and  declares 
'jhat  he  will  maintain  peace  with  China.  Now  we  are  back  again 
in  China.  The  Emperor  is  wandering  in  the  palace  at  night, 
still  overwhelmed  with  grief,  and  unable  to  attend  to  affairs  of 
state.  He  sleeps,  and  we  see  the  princess,  escaped  from  her 
captors,  appearing  to  him  in  a  vision.  A  Tatar  soldier  comes 
in  and  carries  her  off  again.  The  Emperor  awakes  to  fresh  grief. 
The  arrival  is  announced  of  a  Tatar  envoy.  He  is  come  to  tell 
the  sad  story  and  bring  back  the  faithless  minister.  The  traitor 
is  led  away  to  execution. 

We  think  the  reader  will  acknowledge  that  this  story  is  one 
well  fitted  for  dramatic  representation. 

The  scenery  of  a  Chinese  theatre  is  very  simple. 
It  consists  of  a  few  mats,  perhaps  rudely  painted, 
arranged  at  the  back  and  sides  of  the  stage,  and 
"ome  tables,  chairs,  and  couches,  which  serve  for 
many  purposes,  and  are  brought  in  from  the  robing 
rooms  as  required.  The  imperfections  of  the  scenery 
are  made  good  by  simple  devices :  a  courier,  on 
being  despatched,  seizes  a  whip,  and  lifts  his  leg  as 
though  he  were  mounting  a  horse  ;  passing  over  a 
bridge  is  indicated  by  stepping  up  and  then  down, 
crossing  a  river  by  imitating  the  rolling  motion  of 
a  boat.  The  actors  are  dressed  in  costumes  appro- 
priate to  their  parts,  and  of  antique  style.  The 
robes  are  very  splendid,  made  of  bright-coloured 
silks  and  satins  and  really  magnificent  embroideries, 
which  have  cost  large  sums  of  money ;  but  in  the 
humbler  theatres  they  are  much  tarnished  and  worn. 


Only  in  Peking  and  the  great  towns  of  the  North 
are  there  permanent  play-houses.  The  simplicity, 
however,  of  Chinese  theatrical  arrangements  en- 
ables performances  to  be  given  without  difficulty 
all  over  the  country,  even  in  small  towns  and  vil- 
lages. Subscriptions  are  collected  on  the  occasion 
of  a  festival,  or  a  rich  man  wishes  to  give  his 
neighbours  a  treat.  A  travelling  company  of 
players  is  engaged  ;  and,  in  a  couple  of  days,  sheds, 
which  serve  their  purpose  sufficiently  well,  are 
erected,  at  little  cost,  with  rough  planks,  poles, 
and  mats.  The  humbler  members  of  the  audience 
stand  in  the  pit,  without  any  protection  from 
the  weather.  The  performances  frequently  last 
for  three  days,  with  intervals  only  for  eating  and 
sleeping.  This  does  not  mean  that  the  plays  are 
long.  In  the  acting  editions  they  are  usually  short, 
but  a  very  large  number  are  produced  on  such 
occasions. 

As  was  the  case  not  long  ago  in  France,  the  pro- 
fession of  an  actor  is,  at  least  nominally,  considered 
disreputable.  Members  of  it  are  classed  with  bar- 
bers and  domestic  servants,  and,  with  their  sons 
and  grandsons,  they  are  not  allowed  to  compete  in 
the  public  literary  examinations. 

Translations  into  French  of  several  Chinese  plays 
will  be  found  in  the  published  works  of  A.  Bazin 
and  Stanislas  Julien. 

Literature. — A.  Bazin,  The'dtre  ckinois,  Paris,  1838,  also 
Chine  modeme,  do.  1839 ;  J.  F.  Davis,  China,  London,  1S52 ; 
S.  W.  Williams,  The  Middle  Kingdom,  new  ed.,  New  York, 
1883 ;  H.  A.  Giles,  Hist,  of  Chinese  Literature,  London,  1901 ; 
J.  Dyer  Ball,  Things  Chinese*,  London,  1904. 

T.  L.  Bullock. 

DRAMA  (Greek).— i.  Origin  of  the  drama.— 
From  the  time  of  its  origin  down  to  the  days  of 
its  latest  representatives,  Greek  drama  was  closely 
associated  with  religion.  A  Greek  tragedy  or 
comedy  was  a  religious  service  rendered  by  the 
State  to  one  of  its  gods.  Plays  were  performed 
only  at  the  festivals  of  Dionysus — at  the  Leruea, 
the  festival  of  the  wine-press  in  January  ;  at  the 
country  Dionysia  held  in  the  villages  in  December  ; 
and  at  the  city  Dionysia  in  March  (this  the  most 
important  and  brilliant).  There  was  no  long 
season,  and  plays  were  given  all  day  long  during 
the  festivals,  the  spectators  paying  no  admission 
fee  except  what  the  State  provided,  and  often 
bringing  their  own  lunch  and  cushions.  Not  until 
the  3rd  cent.  B.C.  did  the  drama,  as  was  natural, 
become  a  secularized  performance  arranged  by  the 
head  of  a  troupe  and  often  financed  by  private 
liberality. 

The  development  is  paralleled  in  mediaeval  times  by  the 
Mystery  and  Miracle  plays,  which  at  first  were  attached  to  the 
Church  but  in  time  became  dissociated  from  religion  and  formed 
a  true  dramatic  literature,  the  actors,  like  Thespis,  wandering 
about  and  performing  their  plays  wherever  convenient,  whether 
in  church  or  inn-yard.  In  modern  times  we  have  the  Passion 
Play  at  Oberammergau,  which  is  beginning  to  be  more  than  a 
merely  religious  performance,  although  the  Bavarian  peasants 
have  refused  an  enticing  offer  to  play  in  America.  Just  as  the 
old  Greek  play  always  began  with  a  sacrifice  to  Dionysus  at  the 
altar  or  thymele,  so  to-day  at  Oberammergau  every  performance 
is  preceded  by  Mass,  in  which  all  the  actors  and  members  of 
the  Greek-like  chorus  participate. 

That  the  spirit  of  the  Greek  drama  was  strictly 
religious  is  evident  from  its  early  history.  In  a 
larger,  more  philosophical  sense,  it  is  the  outgrowth 
of  the  mimetic  or  play  instinct  in  humanity,  and 
the  sense  of  the  pathetic.  The  mimetic  element 
is  well  illustrated  in  the  dances  and  burlesques  on 
Greek  vases  from  the  7th  to  the  4th  cent.  B.C., 
especially  on  Corinthian,  Caeretan,  Boeotian,  and 
Attic  vases.  The  sense  of  the  pathetic  Croiset 
(iii.  24  f.)  finds  in  the  legends  of  heroes  and  the  reli- 
gion of  Dionysus.  As  Plato  [Rep.  394,  595,  598  f. ) 
and  Aristotle  (Poet.  ch.  4f.)  say,  Homer  is  the  real 
author  of  tragedy,  which  is  a  novel  all  dialogue, 
or  an  epic  all  speeches,  wherein  the  poet  omits  his 
own  narrative  comment  and  leaves  in  the  amoe- 
bean  speeches.    ^Eschylus  (cf .  Athenaeus,  347  E)  said 


880 


DRAMA  (Greek) 


that  his  tragedies  were  but  crumbs  from  Homer's 
table.  But  historically  the  drama,  though  latent 
in  the  epic  and  drawing  upon  it  for  subject-matter 
and  retaining  much  of  the  epic  technique,  especi- 
ally in  the  messenger's  speeches,  developed  out  of 
the  lyric — not  the  personal  passionate  lyric  of 
Archilochus,  Sappho,  and  Alcasus,  but  the  choral 
lyric  of  a  disciplined  chorus  chanting  in  unison  to 
the  measure  of  the  dance.  This  choral  lyric  of 
Alcman  and  Stesiehorus,  which  later  reached  its 
zenith  in  Simonides,  Bacchylides,  Pindar,  and  the 
choruses  of  the  Greek  drama,  nourished  chiefly 
among  the  Dorians  of  early  Sparta,  Sicily,  and 
Magna  Graecia.  There  were  many  forms,  such  as 
hymns  to  the  gods,  marching  songs,  dancing  songs 
for  boys  and  girls. 

We  have  preserved  to  us,  on  a  papyrus  discovered  by  Mariette 
in  Egypt,  a  partheneion,  or  highly  dramatic  virginal  song,  by 
Alcman,  which  consisted  of  140  verses  in  ten  strophes,  of  which 
the  first  two  and  part  of  the  third  are  missing.  This  song 
gives  a  pretty  picture  of  a  dance  of  Spartan  maidens  in  honour 
of  Artemis,  by  the  banks  of  the  Eurotas,  such  as  we  see  on  a 
beautiful  Attic  red-figured  crater  in  the  Museo  di  Villa  Papa 
Giulio  at  Rome  (cf.  Furtwangler-Reichhold,  Griech.  Vasen- 
malerei,  Munich,  1904,  pis.  17-18).  The  chorus  addresses  the 
poet,  and  the  poet  speaks  to  the  whole  body  of  dancers  or  to  an 
individual. 

This  kind  of  choral  lyric  combined  with  its  praise 
the  epic  recital  of  a  local  or  national  or  religious 
legend. 

The  specific  and  immediate  origin  of  the  Greek 
drama,  however,  is  in  one  form  of  this  choral  lyric 
— the  dithyramb  or  hymn,  usually  to  Dionysus, 
though  not  confined  to  his  ritual.  The  word 
'  dithyramb '  first  occurs  in  Archilochus  (fl.  c.  670 
B.C.),  who  was  the  first  to  use  to  any  great  extent 
the  iambic  trimeter  and  trochaic  tetrameter,  the 
two  chief  metres  in  Greek  tragedy.  We  do  not 
know  its  derivation.  Many  etymologies  might  be 
given,  each  more  absurd  than  another.  Originally 
it  may  have  been  an  epithet  of  Dionysus,  the  name 
not  of  the  hymn  but  of  the  god  to  whom  the  hymn 
is  sung,  commemorating  possibly  his  double  birth 
from  Semele  and  from  the  loins  of  Zeus — the  scene 
on  Greek  vases  which  perhaps  was  the  prototype  of 
the  Christian  representations  of  Eve  springing  out 
of  Adam's  side  (cf.  Eurip.  Bacch.  519  f.).  More 
probably  '  dithyramb '  is  connected  with  thriambos, 
meaning  '  mad  song. '  It  appears  from  Archilochus 
that  the  dithyramb  was  either  a  banquet  song  or 
more  probably  a  popular  rude  rustic  hymn  in 
honour  of  Dionysus,  who  introduced  from  Thrace 
the  wild  orgiastic  ceremonies  so  foreign  to  Greek 
soberness.  Out  of  these  rustic  dithyrambs — not 
always  licentious,  but  often  solemn  hymns — after 
they  bad  received  a  systematic  form  under  the 
Dorian  choral  lyric,  tragedy  grew  (cf.  Aristotle, 
Poet.  iv.).  The  dithyramb,  pathetic  as  well  as 
comic,  flourished  throughout  Greece  long  before 
Arion  of  Lesbos  (600  B.C. )  gave  it  a  distinct  artistic 
and  recognized  form,  fixing  the  number  of  the 
chorus  at  fifty  and  dressing  them  in  the  likeness 
of  satyrs,  half-animal,  half-human,  with  the  legs, 
ears,  and  snub-nose  of  a  goat ;  although,  accord- 
ing to  Herodotus  (i.  23),  who  tells  the  famous  dol- 
phin story  about  him,  Arion  was  the  best  lyrist  of 
his  time  and  the  first  to  compose,  name,  and  teach 
the  dithyramb  at  Corinth.  His  chorus  had  fifty 
satyrs  or  goat-men,  the  same  number  as  we  find  in 
the  earliest  play  of  ^Eschylus,  the  Supplices,  noted 
for  its  depth  of  religious  feeling.  The  chorus  of 
satyrs  or  goat-men  (singers  clad  in  goat-skins) 
danced  and  sang  about  a  circular  orchestra,  and 
so  were  called  a  cyclic  chorus  (from  k6k\os,  the 
orchestra)  or  tragic  chorus  (from  rp&yos,  a  goat  or 
satyr;  cf.  Msch.  fr.  207).  Of  course,  this  chorus 
of  satyrs  was  replaced  in  later  times  by  a  chorus 
appropriate  to  the  plot,  except  in  the  Satyr-drama, 
which  retained  the  satyr  chorus  ;  but  tragedy  ori- 
ginally meant  a  goat-song  rather  than  a  spelt-song, 


as  Miss  Harrison  (loc.  cit.  infra)  argues.  This  is 
also  more  likely  than  that  the  goat  was  the  prize, 
as  might  be  argued  from  a  vase  in  the  British 
Museum,  which,  however,  is  not  Attic.  It  is  more 
likely  than  that  the  goat  was  the  sacrifice,  because 
other  prizes  were  given,  and  the  bull  was  equally 
associated  with  Dionysus.  Dionysus  was  a  bull- 
god  as  well  as  a  goat-god,  and  often  appears  in 
Greek  art  with  bull's  horns.  He  had  no  monopoly 
of  the  goat-skin,  which  was  the  primitive  costume 
in  ancient  times,  and  is  worn  by  peasants  in  Greece 
to-day  and  at  modern  Dionysiac  plays  in  Thrace 
(cf.  JHS,  1906,  p.  191  if.)  and  at  the  performances 
of  rude  dramas  in  Thessaly  and  elsewhere.  It  is 
difficult,  then,  to  agree  with  Farnell  that  the  origin 
of  Greek  tragedy  is  an  ancient  European  mum- 
mery which  was  a  winter-drama  of  the  seasons,  in 
which  the  Black  Personage,  Dionysus  MeXdvatyis  or 
MiXavBos,  killed  Xanthus,  the  Fair  One,  the  actors 
wearing  the  black  goat-skin  of  their  god.  The 
word  '  tragic '  did  not  mean  at  first  dramatic  or 
pathetic,  and  Aristotle  (loc.  cit.)  says  that  the 
grotesque  diction  of  earlier  times  was  not  discarded 
till  late  for  the  statelier  manner  of  tragedy.  But 
tragic  soon  became  associated  with  the  pathetic, 
because  the  habitual  theme  of  the  dithyramb  was 
the  adventures  and  sorrows  of  Dionysus,  the  new 
religion  which  had  to  struggle  to  win  its  way.  The 
limitation  to  Dionysus  was  not  essential,  as  the 
story  in  Herod,  v.  67  shows.  About  600  B.C.  the 
people  of  Sikyon  honoured  their  local  hero  Adrastus 
and  celebrated  his  sufferings  in  tragic  choruses,  but 
Cleisthenes,  being  hostile  to  the  cult  of  Adrastus, 
restored  the  chorus  to  Dionysus. 

Ridgeway  makes  large  use  of  this  to  support  his  theory  that 
the  origin  oi  Greek  tragedy  was  in  the  worship  of  the  dead. 
There  is,  to  be  sure,  much  of  this  in  our  extant  dramas,  since 
they  naturally  deal  with  death  for  the  most  part,  and  un- 
doubtedly the  worship  of  the  dead,  the  Orphic  and  Eleuslnian 
Mysteries  in  which  Dionysus  or  Iacchus  was  associated  with 
Persephone,  the  farces  and  burlesques,  as  at  the  later  sanctu- 
ary of  the  mystic  chthoriic  Cabiri  near  Thebes,  who  became 
closely  connected  with  Dionysus,  and  the  rude  choral  songs 
and  mimetic  dances  contributed  much,  but  they  were  all 
swallowed  up  by  the  coming  of  Dionysus,  whose  cult  spread 
over  the  whole  Greek  world  and  was  easily  grafted  on  the 
native  worship.    Cf.  and  ct.  art.  Drama  (Introductory). 

Many  elements,  therefore,  combined  to  make  the 
Greek  drama,  but  the  main  one  was  the  worship  of 
Dionysus,  the  god  of  wine,  vegetation,  and  moisture. 
Dionysus,  the  youngest  of  the  Greek  gods,  a  mystic 
Phrygian  deity,  came  into  Greece  over  the  moun- 
tains of  Thrace,  met  with  opposition  in  Thrace  and 
Bceotia,  but  finally  reached  Delphi  and  the  villages 
of  Icaria  and  Eleuthera?.  From  the  country  he 
made  his  way  into  the  town  of  Athens  under  Pisis- 
tratus,  although  legend  said  that,  under  king  Am- 
phictyon,  Pegasus  of  Eleutherse  had  introduced  him 
into  Athens  (cf .  Paus.  i.  2.  4,  and  schol.  to  Aristoph. 
Acharn.  243).  Dionysus  is  already  known  to  Homer, 
by  whom  he  is  mentioned  twice  in  the  Iliad  (vi.  132, 
xiv.  325)  and  twice  in  the  Odyssey  (xi.  325,  xxiv.  74). 
The  opposition  to  his  worship  in  Thrace  is  embodied 
in  the  story  of  his  harsh  treatment  by  Lycurgus  (II. 
vi.  132) ;  in  Bceotia  in  the  legend  of  Pentheus,  the 
subject  of  lost  plays  by  Thespis  and  vEschylus,  and 
of  the  most  Dionysiac  play  of  Euripides,  the  Bacchw, 
written  at  the  court  of  Archelaus  at  the  very 
birthplace  of  Dionysiac  performances.  The  village 
of  Eleutherae  claimed  to  have  been  founded  by 
Dionysus  and  to  have  been  his  birth-place,  whence 
the  archaic  wooden  image,  or  £6cc>w,  of  the  god  was 
brought  to  Athens  by  Pegasus  to  the  precinct 
beside  the  Dionysiac  theatre  on  the  southern  slope 
of  the  Acropolis,  where  in  the  front  row  is  still  to 
be  seen  the  seat  of  the  chief  priest,  iepevs  'EXevffepetis, 
so  named  from  Eleutherse.  At  Icaria,  where  Thes- 
pis, the  founder  of  Greek  tragedy,  was  born,  there 
was  a  story,  of  which  there  are  many  illustrations 
in  art,  that  Dionysus  came  and  was  hospitably 
received   by  the  farmer  Icarius.     Dionysus  gave 


DRAMA  (Greek) 


881 


him  wine,  which  the  people  thought  was  poison,  and 
they  slew  Icarius.  Erigone,  his  daughter,  hanged 
herself,  and  Dionysus  sent  a  plague,  which  was 
appeased  by  instituting  the  festival  of  the  swing. 

The  Americans  excavated  Icaria  in  18S8  and  found  many  in- 
scriptions illustrating  the  origin  of  the  Greek  drama  and  many 
traces  of  the  worship  of  Dionysus  (cf.  Dyer,  Gods  in  Greece, 
18A1,  pp.  104-117  ;  Frazer,  Pausanias,  ii.  461  f.  ;  Papers  of 
American  School  at  Athens,  v.  [1S92]  43  f. ;  Nonnus,  Dionysiaca, 
bk.  xlvii.). 

The  story  was  a  favourite  subject  in  the  Greek 
drama.  Phrynichus,  Philocles,  Cleophon,  and 
others  treated  the  theme,  although  it  was  avoided 
by  the  three  great  dramatists.  Naxos,  where  the 
story  of  the  waking  of  Ariadne  is  laid,  Crete,  Cor- 
inth, Athens,  and  other  places  are  also  intimately 
associated  with  the  beginnings  of  the  Greek  drama 
and  Dionysus.  Dionysus  was  the  god  of  life,  en- 
thusiasm, and  rustic  merriment,  the  liberator  of 
men's  lips  and  hearts,  rightly  called  Dionysus 
Eleutherius.  His  orgiastic  and  religious  influence 
was  connected  with  the  resurrection  of  life  and  im- 
mortality (cf.  Wheeler,  Dionysus  and  Immortality, 
1899).  Legends  told  how  the  god  slept  in  winter 
and  awoke  in  summer,  or  was  bound  in  winter  and 
released  in  spring.  Flogging  also  filled  an  import- 
ant r61e  in  the  rites  of  Dionysus,  as  in  the  Dion- 
ysiac  rites  in  Thrace  to-day.  Even  women  were 
flogged  in  being  initiated  into  the  Dionysiac  rites 
(cf.  Paus.  viii.  23.  1,  and  the  recently  discovered 
Pompeian  painting,  Notizie  degli  Scavi,  1910,  4,  pi. 
xvii.).  At  Delphi,  the  centre  of  Greek  religion, 
where  a  ceremony  described  by  Plutarch  repre- 
sented his  mystical  resurrection  and  the  waking  of 
the  new-born  child  after  his  winter  sleep,  he  was 
important  enough  to  have  his  coffin  beside  the 
image  of  Apollo  and  to  share  with  him  the  pedi- 
ment of  the  temple.  So  Dionysus  was  also  the  god 
of  sorrow  and  pathos,  acquainted  with  grief.  What 
more  natural  than  that  tragedy  and  comedy  should 
arise  in  the  worship  of  a  deity  the  thought  of  whom 
covered  the  whole  field  of  human  emotion,  whether 
grief  or  gaiety,  '  a  complete  religion,  a  complete 
sacred  representation  of  the  whole  of  life '  ?  Even 
before  the  coming  of  Dionysus  there  were  the  crude 
beginnings  of  the  drama.  If  we  seek  the  ultimate 
and  final  source,  perhaps  we  can  find  it  mainly, 
but  not  entirely,  in  the  cult  of  the  dead .  The  main 
real  historical  source  was  the  poetic  and  literary 
inspiration  of  the  wine-god,  especially  as  exhibited 
in  the  dithyramb.  Aristotle  rather  than  anthro- 
pology should  guide  us  in  this  question. 

The  dithyramb  of  Arion  was,  if  not  dramatic, 
mimetic,  and  the  chorus  by  its  dancing  illustrated 
the  story  told  in  words.  The  drama  proper,  how- 
ever, began  to  evolve  when  the  choral  chant  was  in- 
terrupted by  a  rude  dialogue,  perhaps  improvised, 
between  the  leader  and  the  chorus.  The  dithy- 
ramb was  sung  at  the  spring  festival  of  the  wine- 
god,  and  at  any  time  the  coryphaeus  may  have 
stepped  out  and  spoken  to  the  chorus  as  a  whole. 
When  that  happened,  the  song  became  dramatic, 
and  drama  was  born.  Pollux  (iv.  123)  and  the  Etym. 
Magnum  {s.v.  Bv/xiXv)  say  that  there  was  a  kind 
of  table  on  which,  before  Thespis,  one  mounted  and 
answered  the  chorus.  This  rustic  use  of  tables  as 
extemporized  platforms  is  confirmed  by  illustrations 
on  Greek  vases  (cf.  Cook,  CIR  ix.  [1895]  370  f.  ; 
Bidgeway,  p.  44  f.).  While  tragedy  developed  out 
of  the  dithyramb,  the  dithyramb  continued  at 
Athens  and  elsewhere.  The  intermediate  forms 
have  been  lost,  and  only  a  few  notices  and  a  list 
of  poets  from  Arion  to  Thespis  remain  to  fill  the 
gap.  Pindar  is  said  to  have  composed  seventeen 
tragic  dramas  in  addition  to  his  dithyrambs,  but 
we  know  almost  nothing  of  their  character.  A 
few  years  ago,  however,  a  new  piece  of  evidence 
was  found  in  the  newly-discovered  eighteenth  poem 
of  Bacchylides — a  short  dramatic  lyric  dialogue, 
vol.  iv. — 56 


which  some  call  a  dithyramb,  between  ^Egeus  and 
the  chorus.  Although  written  about  the  time  of 
Sophocles,  it  illustrates  the  development  from  the 
dithyramb  to  the  drama.  The  evolution  of  the 
drama  consists,  as  Croiset  says,  in  the  elimination 
of  the  satyric  element,  the  transformation  of  the 
primitive  narrator  into  an  actor,  and  the  constitu- 
tion of  a  regular  plot.  Thespis  did  this  and  em- 
ployed a  regular  actor.  Thus  the  element  of  acting 
was  now  added  to  that  of  impersonation,  that  is, 
he  himself  stepped  out  and  recited  to  the  others, 
for  in  early  days  the  poets  were  also  actors.  Thes- 
pis was  born  in  Icaria,  where,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
worship  of  Dionysus  flourished  and  where  tragic 
choruses  performed  in  his  honour.  Thespis  first 
produced  his  tragedies  at  the  city  Dionysia  in  5'M 
B.C.  He  is  also  said  to  have  invented  the  mask, 
which  is  ritualistic  and  reflects  the  origin  of  tragedy 
in  a  Dionysiac  festival.  The  successors  of  Thespis 
and  immediate  predecessors  and  rivals  of  jEschylus 
were  especially  Pratinas,  Choerilus,  Phrynichus. 

According  to  Suidas,  Pratinas  was  the  first  to 
compose  a  satyr-drama.  During  the  performance 
of  one  of  his  plays  in  competition  with  ^Eschylus 
(499  B.C.),  the  temporary  wooden  seats  collapsed, 
leading  to  the  erection  of  a  regular  theatre  at 
Athens.  His  son  Aristeas  wrote  among  other 
satyr-dramas  one  called  Cyclops — the  title  also  of 
the  only  extant  satyr-drama,  written  by  Euripides 
and  translated  by  Shelley.  Choerilus  also  distin- 
guished himself  in  the  satyr-drama,  and  won  for 
himself  the  title  of  king  among  the  satyrs.  The 
satyr-drama,  illustrated  by  the  satyric  masks  with 
semi-bestial  features,  was  originally  a  gross  licen- 
tious Dionysiac  rite,  which  with  its  Sileni  and 
satyrs  came  down  into  Greece  from  Thrace.  There 
dwelt  a  tribe  called  Satrre,  among  whom  was  the 
chief  sanctuary  of  Dionysus,  and  who  were  thought 
to  be  lax  in  their  morals  and  given  to  wild  orgiastic 
rites.  Even  to-day  in  Thrace  and  Greece  one  may 
see  phallic  and  Dionysiac  dances  [the  writer  has 
witnessed  them  in  Boeotia  and  Thessaly],  which 
resemble  the  scenes  on  Greek  vases  which  were  in- 
spired by,  and  inspired,  the  satyr  chorus  (cf.  Furt- 
wangler-Beichhold,  pis.  47,  48).  So  from  the  Satire 
perhaps  arose  the  name  '  satyrs,'  the  constant  com- 
panions of  Dionysus  in  art  and  literature.  It  was 
necessary  only  to  change  the  costumes  of  the  chorus 
to  widen  the  scope  of  subjects.  This  was  done,  and 
Greek  tragedy  got  further  and  further  away  from 
Dionysus  ;  and  almost  the  whole  of  Greek  mytho- 
logy was  drawn  on  for  the  plots  of  the  Greek  plays. 
Even  the  chronicle-play,  or  drama  of  contemporary 
events,  was  invented.  The  only  extant  example  is 
the  Pen-ai,  in  which  jEschylus  avoided  the  fate  of 
Phrynichus  (who  was  fined  a  thousand  drachmas 
for  his  Sack  of  Milefais)  by  mentioning  no  contem- 
porary Greek  name  in  the  play,  and  by  placing  the 
scene  at  the  remote  court  of  Susa.  But  the  Dion- 
ysiac element  was  kept  to  a  large  extent  in  the 
coarser  satyr-drama,  which  every  tragic  poet  must 
present  after  a  trilogy,  or  set  of  three  dramas. 
Sometimes,  however,  a  tragedy  of  a  comic  char- 
acter, like  the  Alcestis  of  Euripides,  could  be  sub- 
stituted, and  later  only  one  satyr-drama  instead  of 
three  was  given  at  each  festival,  to  remind  one  of 
the  origin  of  tragedy  in  the  worship  of  Dionysus. 
Then,  as  we  know  from  inscriptions,  it  had  the 
least  important  place,  namely,  at  the  beginning  of 
the  festival,  and  not  at  the  end  as  previously.  The 
satyr-drama,  like  tragedy,  was  a  regular  ritual  sup- 
ported by  the  State. 

2.  Tragedy. — The  three  great  Greek  tragedians 
were  iEschylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides,  whose 
plays  are  full  of  religious  and  ethical  ideas  (dis- 
cussed in  the  articles  about  them  in  this  Encyclo- 
paedia). iEschylus  added  a  second  actor,  thus 
introducing  true  dramatic  action,  and  diminished 


882 


DRAMA  (Greek) 


the  songs  of  the  chorus.  Of  about  seventy  dramas 
by  ^Eschylus  we  still  have  seven,  among  them  the 
only  Greek  trilogy  preserved,  the  Oresteia,  the 
masterpiece  of  Greek  drama,  produced  in  458  B.C. 
^Eschylus,  born  at  Eleusis  in  the  strong  religious 
atmosphere  of  the  Mysteries,  extended  the  bounds 
of  tragedy  to  deal  with  the  great  moral  and  re- 
ligious problems  of  life  and  the  relation  of  man  to 
man  and  to  God.  He  developed  the  plot,  made 
tragedy  a  dignified  instructor  in  ethics  and  religion, 
and  laid  down  the  principles  followed  by  all  suc- 
ceeding Greek  tragedians  with  few  changes.  One 
of  the  great  features  of  yEschylean  theology  is  the 
predominance  of  Zeus,  to  whom  even  Destiny  is 
coadjutor.  This  is  perhaps  best  seen  in  the  Sup- 
plices,  which  has  been  pronounced  '  one  of  the  most 
truly  religious  poems  in  ancient  literature '  (Adam, 
Bel.  Teachers,  p.  142).  ^Eschylus  verges  almost  on 
monotheism,  or  rather  pantheism  (fr.  70  :  '  Zeus  is 
aether,  Zeus  is  earth,  Zeus  is  heaven  ;  Zeus  in  truth 
is  all  things  and  more  than  all ').  Sin  is  C/S/hs,  or 
insolence,  and  must  be  expiated  by  suffering  ;  and 
punishment  is  for  the  most  part  retributory.  He 
protests  against  the  doctrine  of  the  envy  of  the 
gods  (cf.  Agamemnon,  749  f.),  and  emphatically 
affirms  that  the  world  is  governed  by  Justice. 
As  is  well  expressed  in  Abbott's  Hellenica  (1880, 
p.  66),  '  the  undertone  of  Divine  vengeance  running 
through  the  dramas  of  ^Eschylus  seems  in  Sophocles 
to  pass  away  into  an  echo  of  Divine  compassion, 
and  we  move  from  the  gloom  of  sin  and  sorrow 
towards  the  dawning  of  a  brighter  day  in  which 
strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness.' 

Sophocles,  who  added  a  third  actor  and  raised 
the  num  ber  of  the  chorus  from  twel  ve  to  fifteen  and 
employed  scene-painting,  in  contrast  to  iEschylus, 
is  the  poet  of  reconciliation  and  not  of  strife  be- 
tween right  and  wrong.  He  was  the  most  religions 
of  the  Greek  poets,  and  piety  is  the  basis  of  his 
religion.  In  Euripides,  the  gnomic  poet  of  every- 
day life  and  realism,  there  is  much  polemic  against 
popular  religion,  much  scepticism  and  cynicism. 
He  robbed  tragedy  of  its  idealism,  but  brought  in 
romance  and  pathos  and  melodrama,  which  made 
him  very  popular  in  his  own  and  later  times. 
Euripides  still  further  diminished  the  importance 
of  the  chorus  as  an  organic  part  of  the  drama, 
made  the  prologue  serve  to  tell  who  the  persons 
were,  and  largely  employed  the  deusex  machina  to 
close  his  dramas,  of  which  we  still  have  nineteen, 
including  the  doubtful  Rhesus.  After  Euripides, 
new  tragedies  continued  to  be  written,  down  to  the 
3rd  cent.  A.D.,  and  old  tragedies  of  the  5th  cent, 
were  reproduced  along  with  the  new.  But  there 
was  little  growth  or  innovation  except  in  better 
stage-machinery  and  improved  scene-painting. 
Professional  actors  took  the  stage  in  the  4th  cent. 
B.C.,  and  troupes  were  sent  out  to  the  villages  by 
the  gilds  of  the  Dionysiac  artists.  Almost  every 
town  after  the  4th  cent.  B.C.  had  its  theatre  and 
its  performances.  For  Delos,  Samos,  Delphi,  and 
other  places  we  still  have  several  of  the  choregic 
inscriptions. 

3.  Comedy. — As  in  the  case  of  tragedy,  the 
origin  of  Greek  comedy  is  connected  with  the 
worship  of  Dionysus,  and  especially  with  the 
Dorians.  Comedy  arose  in  the  phallic  song  of 
Bacchic  dancers  and  revellers,  a  comus-song  (from 
Ku/tos  ,  '  a  revel,'  not  K<b/j.r),  '  a  village,'  as  Aristotle 
says).  One  sees  such  a  phallic  procession  in  honour 
of  Dionysus  in  Aristophanes'  Acharn.  237  f.,  and 
on  many  Greek  vases.  The  primitive  rude  im- 
promptu performance  was  developed  by  Susaiion 
of  Megara,  who  substituted  verses  of  his  own,  and 
introduced  into  these  indecent  performances  the 
abuse  of  individuals.  Susarion  brought  these 
comic  performances  from  Megara  first  to  Icaria, 
where,  as  we  have  seen,  tragedy  also  was  born. 


Till  Epicharmus,  comedy  was  only  a  series  of  un- 
connected episodes  and  burlesques ;  but  Epicharmus, 
the  Sicilian  father  of  Greek  comedy,  introduced 
unity  of  subject  and  plot,  though  he  seems  not  to 
have  had  the  comic  chorus,  which  developed  out  of 
the  comus.  He  was  the  first  to  bring  forward  the 
character  of  the  parasite.  His  comedies  were  of 
two  kinds — mythological  travesties,  and  comedies 
with  scenes  from  daily  life,  which  developed  into 
comedies  of  intrigue.  But  the  comus  of  Attica 
was  combined  with  the  episode-comedy  of  Epi- 
charmus and  Sicily  to  form  Attic  comedy,  though, 
of  course,  the  agon,  or  contest,  also  played  an 
important  part,  as  Zielinski  has  shown.  But  the 
agon  theory,  according  to  which  comedy  arose 
from  ye(pvpuxfi6s,  or  the  jibing  at  one  another  at  the 
bridge  passed  over  by  the  initiates  on  their  pro- 
cession to  Eleusis  (cf.  Gildersleeve,  in  AJPE  x. 
[1889]  383,  xviii.  [1897]  243),  would  make  comedy 
belong  to  Demeter  and  Persephone  rather  than  to 
Dionysus.  Whichever  theory  is  right,  Attic  comedy 
in  its  origin  certainly  was  clearly  separated  from 
tragedy  and  the  satyr-drama,  which  were  regarded 
as  regular  rituals  by  the  State.  But  comedy  grew 
out  of  mere  buffoonery,  and  had  no  claim  to  re- 
ligious respect,  though  it  was  given  unofficially  at 
festivals  of  Dionysus.  The  State  did  not  take  it 
up  until  comedy  was  developed  on  the  lines  of 
tragedy  as  a  legitimate  form  of  drama.  Probably 
about  487  B.C.,  as  Capps  thinks, — and  not  so  late  as 
467,  as  Wilamowitz  argues, — comedy  was  officially 
recognized  at  the  city  Dionysia.  Chionides  and 
Magnes  are  the  first  great  names,  and  from  their 
time  onwards  comedy  developed  after  the  pattern 
of  tragedy.  Three  comedies  were  given  at  the 
Dionysia  and  Lenwa  by  five  separate  poets.  From 
425  to  405  B.C.  the  number  was  only  three.  The 
number  of  actors  who  could  take  part  in  the  dis- 
cussion at  any  time  was  three,  as  in  tragedy 
(though,  as  Bees  has  shown,  this  does  not  mean 
that  only  three  actors  were  employed  to  give  a 
tragedy  or  comedy).  The  number  of  the  chorus 
was  twenty-four — double  the  number  in  tragedy 
before  Sophocles.  Comedy,  like  tragedy,  had  its 
prologue,  parodos,  exodos,  and  choruses ;  but  two 
features,  the  agon  and  parabasis,  are  peculiar  to 
comedy  alone.  The  agon  is  a  debate  between  two 
antagonists  and  the  chorus,  and  often  seems  to  be 
the  essence  of  the  comedy.  So,  in  the  Clouds  of 
Aristophanes  the  agon  is  the  contention  of  the  Just 
and  Unjust  Arguments  for  the  Athenian  boy.  The 
parabasis  is  the  part  where  the  chorus  faces  the 
spectators  and  addresses  them  in  the  name  of  the 
poet. 

Three  periods  of  comedy  are  distinguished — the 
Old  (down  to,  say,  390  B.C.),  the  Middle  (from  390 
to,  say,  324 — the  date  of  Menander's  first  play), 
and  the  New  (from  324  onwards).  The  Old  Comedy, 
of  which  Cratinus,  Eupolis,  and  Aristophanes  are 
the  three  great  poets,  ridiculed  with  gross  abuse 
and  obscenity  an  individual  or  any  subject,  whether 
from  mythology,  literature,  Utopias,  daily  or  public 
life.  Imitations  of  animal  life  were  common,  and 
there  were  choruses  of  snakes,  wasps,  fishes,  or 
birds,  as  in  the  Birds  of  Aristophanes,  the  proto- 
type of  Bostand's  Ckanticler.  Such  choruses 
existed  even  before  Aristophanes,  since  a  vase  in 
the  British  Museum  of  the  6th  cent.  B.C.  shows 
men  dressed  as  birds  dancing  to  the  sound  of  the 
flute.  Great  licence  was  allowed  in  ridiculing 
statesmen  and  politics,  but  for  a  while  it  became 
necessary  to  curb  the  satire  and  forbid  the  comedians 
to  satirize  individuals  by  name.  The  plays  of  the 
middle  period  of  Aristophanes  are  not  so  pungently 
political  as  the  earlier  ones,  and  the  Plutus  belongs 
to  Middle  Comedy.  Aristophanes  was  the  greatest 
representative  of  the  Old  Comedy,  and  of  his  fifty- 
four  plays  we  have  eleven  preserved  entire — the 


DRAMA  (Indian) 


88IS 


only  extant  examples  of  a  complete  Greek  comedy. 
The  Middle  Comedy,  best  represented  by  Alexis 
and  Antiphanes,  in  which  political  and  personal 
satire  hardly  appears  at  all,  is  a  period  of  transition 
to  the  more  relined  and  less  personal  New  Comedy, 
which  developed  the  comedy  of  manners  with  its 
stock  characters  and  with  the  every-day  interests 
of  eating,  drinking,  and  intrigue.  The  greatest 
poets  of  the  New  Comedy  were  Philemon  (who  in 
a  life  of  ninety-nine  years  produced  about  ninety 
plays),  Menander,  Diphilus,  Apollodorus,  and 
Posidippus.  Recently  considerable  fragments  of 
four  plays  of  Menander  have  been  recovered  in 
Egypt  (cf.  Capps,  Four  Plays  of  Menander,  1910), 
but  we  still  get  our  best  idea  of  the  Greek  New 
Comedy  from  the  Roman  comic  poets  Terence  and 
Plautus,  who  took  their  plots  from  the  Greek,  and 
led  the  way  to  the  comedy  of  Moliere  and  modern 
Europe.     See  Drama  (Roman). 

4.  The  structure  of  the  theatre. — It  is  impossible 
even  to  touch  on  all  the  subjects  connected  with 
the  Greek  drama  in  this  article,  but  something 
should  be  said  about  the  form  of  the  Greek  theatre, 
which  to-day  is  the  most  conspicuous  ruin  through- 
out Greek  lands.  The  best  preserved  auditorium 
is  that  of  the  beautiful  and  harmonious  theatre  of 
Epidaurus ;  the  best  preserved  stage-building  is 
that  of  Priene.  All  date  after  the  middle  of  the 
4th  cent.  B.C.  The  first  stone  theatre  in  Athens 
dates  from  the  time  of  Lycurgus, — long  after  the 
days  of  jEschylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides, — and 
would  seat  about  15,000  people.  With  the  semi- 
circular auditorium  rising  in  tier  after  tier  of  seats 
divided  into  xepxlSes,  or  wedges,  by  aisles,  the 
theatre  of  Lycurgus  probably  reproduces  the  plan 
of  the  temporary  structure  in  which  jEschylus 
acted  his  own  dramas.  The  performance  was 
always  out  of  doors,  and  the  spectators  sat  on  the 
slope  of  the  hill,  which  was  made  into  the  form  of 
a  semi-circle  with  the  ends  extended.  Generally 
even  in  later  times  the  side  of  a  hill  was  used  for 
the  auditorium  of  stone,  but  at  Eretria  an  artificial 
embankment  had  to  be  heaped  up.  The  chorus 
and  actors  performed  in  a  circular  orchestra  at  the 
bottom  of  a  semi-circular  auditorium.  Here  was 
an  altar  of  Dionysus,  at  which  every  performance 
was  begun  with  sacrifice  ;  and,  as  the  Greek  drama 
was  essentially  a  religious  service,  not  far  away 
there  often  was  a  temple,  generally  of  Dionysus, 
in  whose  precinct  the  theatre  was.  Part  of  the 
6th  cent,  temple  of  Dionysus  remains  even  to-day, 
to  the  south  of  the  stone  theatre  of  Dionysus  in 
Athens,  although  the  later  4th  cent,  temple  is 
better  preserved.  However,  we  must  remember 
that,  while  Dionysus  was  the  usual  deity  associated 
with  the  theatre,  we  sometimes  find  others.  So 
the  stage-building  of  the  theatre  at  Oropos,  which 
seems  to  have  had  wooden  seats,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  stone  ones  for  the  priests  and  dignitaries, 
bears  an  inscription  to  Amphiaraus.  At  first  there 
was  no  scenic  background,  but,  when  painted 
scenery  had  been  introduced,  a  skene  was  erected 
behind  the  orchestra  containing  dressing  rooms, 
and  was  later  adorned  with  a  proscenium  of  half 
columns,  originally  wood,  but  later  stone,  between 
which  were  slabs,  or  pinakes,  on  which  the  scenery 
was  painted.  These  slabs  could  be  removed  when 
the  actors  came  out  into  the  orchestra.  Even  when 
there  was  a  stone  skene  and  proscenium,  most 
scholars  now  agree  that  the  actors  performed  in 
the  orchestra,  where  even  a  whisper  could  be  heard 
by  the  topmost  row,  as  the  writer  can  bear  witness 
from  experiments  at  Epidaurus.  The  gods,  of 
course,  appeared  on  top  of  the  proscenium,  or 
theologeion.  Ghosts,  like  that  of  Darius  in  the 
Persis,  would  appear  by  '  Charon's  stairs,'  which 
descended  in  the  middle  of  the  orchestra  and  con- 
nected with  an  underground  passage  to  the  skene, 


as  at  Eretria  and  Sicyon.  The  actors  were  dis- 
tinguished from  the  chorus  by  their  costume,  often 
padded,  and  by  their  wigs  and  masks.  It  used  to 
be  thought  that  their  height  was  increased  by  the 
cothurnus  on  the  feet  and  the  onehos  on  the  head. 
But  it  is  likely  that  the  cothurnus  was  unknown 
till  late  times.  Doubt  has  also  been  thrown  on  the 
use  of  the  eccyclema,  or  machine  to  roll  out  the 
corpse,  since  no  murder  could  be  represented  in  full 
view  of  the  spectators.  But  there  seems  to  be 
evidence  for  its  use.  Men  played  the  part  of 
women.  There  was  no  curtain,  as  in  the  Roman 
theatre,  so  that  there  was  rarely  a  change  of 
scene  ;  but  the  three  unities  of  time,  place,  and 
action  were  often  violated,  and  not  consciously 
formulated  by  the  Greeks. 

Literature.—  Cf.  the  different  histories  of  Greek  Literature, 
esp.  Croiset,  Hist,  de  la  litt.  grecque,  iii.  (1891),  tr.  in  abridged 
form  by  Heffelbower  (1904) ;  Christ,  Gesch.  der  griech.  Lit- 
teratur*,  1905;  Fowler,  Hist,  of  Ancient  Or.  Literature,  1902  ; 
Capps,  From  Homer  to  Theocritus,  1909,  pp.  182-300,  414-440 
[one  of  the  best  accounts  of  the  subject] ;  Wright,  Short  Hist 
0/  Gr.  Literature,  1907 ;  Verrall,  Student's  Manual  0/  Gr. 
Tragedy,  1891 ;  Barnett,  Gr.  Drama,  Temple  Primers,  1900  [an 
excellent  little  book,  with  a  good  account  of  the  origin  and  early 
history  of  the  drama] ;  Hatgrh,  Tragic  Drama  of  the  Greeks, 
1896,  The  Attic  Theatre,  1889  (3rd  ed.  by  Pickard-Cambridge, 
1907)  ;  Moulton,  Ancient  Classical  Drama,  1890  ;  Weil,  Etudes 
sur  le  drame  antique,  1897  ;  Campbell,  Guide  to  Gr.  Tragedy  for 
English  Readers,  1891 ;  Ridgeway,  The  Origin  of  Tragedy, 
1910  [the  most  recent  and  important  treatment] ;  Farnell,  'The 
Megala  Dionysia  and  the  Origin  of  Tragedy'  (JHS  xxix.  [1909] 
p.  xlvii),  also  Culls  of  the  Greek  States,  v.  [1910],  s.v.  '  Dionysus ' ; 
Reisch,  '  Zur  Vorgesch.  der  attischen  Tragddie '  (Festschrift 
fur  Gomperz,  1902,  p.  459  f.).  For  the  religious  side,  cf.  esp. 
J.  Adam,  The  Religious  Teachers  of  Greece,  1908;  Campbell, 
Religion  in  Greek  Literature,  1898  ;  Dyer,  Gods  in  Greece,  1891 ; 
Foucart,  Le  Culte  de  Dionysos  en  Attique,  1904  ;  J.  E.  Harrison, 
Proleg.  to  the  Study  of  Greek  Religion  2,  1908  (esp.  pp.  359-453)  ; 
Pater,  Greek  Studies  :  A  Study  of  Dionysus,  1895  ;  Wernicke, 
'  Bockschore  und  Satyr-drama'  (Vermes,  xxxii.  [1897]  290 f.).  For 
the  ruins  of  theatres  and  their  interpretation,  cf.  Dorpfeld,  Das 
griech.  Theater,  1S96  ;  Puchstein,  Die  griech.  Biihne,  1901.  On 
the  dramatic  inscriptions,  cf.  Wilhelm,  Urkunden  dramut. 
Auffiihrungen  in  Athen,  1906,  and  the  artt.  by  Capps  cited 
there,  esp.  the  '  Introduction  of  Comedy  into  the  City  Dionysia ' 
(.Chicago  Decennial  Publications).  Other  important  works 
are  the  editions  of  Aristotle's  Poetics  by  Butcher  (189S)  and 
By  water  (1909)  ;  O'Connor,  Chapters  in  the  History  of  Actors 
and  Acting  in  Ancient  Greece,  1908  ;  Rees,  The  So-called  Rule 
of  Three  Actors,  1908  ;  Smith,  '  The  Use  of  the  Buskin  in  Greek 
Tragedy'  (Harvard  Studies,  xvi.  [1905]);  Hains,  '  Gr.  Plays  in 
America '  (Classical  Journal,  vi.  [1910]  24  f.).  Other  books  on 
the  Greek  drama  are  being  prepared  by  Capps,  Harris,  Harry, 
Flickinger,  and  others.  DAVID  M.  RoBINSON. 

DRAMA  (Indian).  —I.  The  classical  Indian 
drama. — The  extant  masterpieces  of  the  Indian 
drama  belong  to  the  most  flourishing  period  of 
classical  Sanskrit  literature,  which  may  be  sup- 
posed to  begin  with  the  establishment  of  the  Gupta 
Empire  in  A.D.  319,  and  to  extend  to  about  the 
year  800,  though  the  literature  of  the  next  three 
or  four  centuries,  which  may  be  regarded  as  the 
silver  age,  includes  a  number  of  dramas  of  con- 
siderable interest  and  importance  ;  and  this  species 
of  composition  has  continued  to  be  cultivated  in 
India  even  down  to  the  present  day.  But  these 
later  productions  are  destitute  of  originality. 
They  are  either  imitations  of  the  old  models,  or 
exercises  constructed  in  accordance  with  the  rules 
of  the  rhetoricians  and  the  writers  on  the  dramatic 
art.  Recent  discoveries  have,  however,  shown 
that  the  antiquity  of  the  classical  drama  is  much 
greater  than  is  represented  by  the  extant  literature. 
Fragments  of  Indian  palm-leaf  MSS  found  in 
Central  Asia  show  that  a  dramatic  literature 
possessing  substantially  the  same  chief  character- 
istics (§  2)  was  flourishing  several  centuries  earlier 
in  the  Kusana  period  (§  3). 

Like  all  other  works  of  the  classical  period — such 
as  the  romances,  the  literary  epics,  and  the  lyrical 
poems — the  Sanskrit  dramas  are  of  an  artificial 
and  highly  elaborated  character.  The  rules  which 
govern  their  language,  their  structure,  the  choice 
of  their  dramatis  personal,   and   their    plots  are 


884 


DRAMA  (Indian) 


those  which  had  been  already  fixed  by  gram- 
marians and  theorists.  Dependent  as  they  are  for 
their  interest,  not  so  much  on  originality  of  plot 
or  a  life-like  portrayal  of  character,  as  on  their 
power  to  excite  emotion,  on  refinement  of  language, 
and  on  subtlety  of  expression,  they  can  have 
appealed  only  to  cultivated  audiences.  We  thus 
find  the  drama,  at  its  first  appearance  in  literature, 
to  be  a  perfected  work  of  art,  the  form  of  which, 
already  definitely  settled,  does  not  subsequently 
undergo  any  important  modification. 

This  drama  must  have  had  a  history ;  but  such 
earlier  forms  as  might  have  enabled  us  to  trace  its 
origin  and  growth  directly  were  either  not  com- 
mitted to  writing  or  have  disappeared  in  the  course 
of  time.  References  in  early  literature  prove, 
indeed,  that  a  drama  of  some  kind  flourished  in 
India  at  least  as  early  as  the  4th  cent.  B.C.  (see 
§  8)  ;  but  there  is  nothing  actually  extant  in  Indian 
literature  which  stands  to  the  classical  drama  in 
the  same  relation  as  the  early  epics,  the  Maha- 
bhdrata  and  the  Ramayana — the  oldest  portions  of 
which  probably  go  back  to  c.  500  B.C. — stand  to  the 
later  epics  of  the  classical  period.  All  that  can  be 
now  known  of  the  history  and  development  of  the 
Indian  drama  must  be  inferred  :  (1)  from  the  plays 
themselves,  (2)  from  works  dealing  with  the  arts  of 
dramatic  composition  and  dramatic  representation, 
(3)  from  references  in  other  literature,  and  (4)  from 
a  consideration  of  the  popular  theatre  which  con- 
tinues still  to  flourish  in  India. 

2.  Chief  features. — Some  of  the  most  important 
characteristics  which  are  common  to  all  Sanskrit 
plays  are  the  following  : — 

(1)  The  benediction. — Every  play  begins  with  a 
solemn  prayer  in  verse,  addressed  to  some  deity — 
usually  Siva  or  Visnu  or  some  Divine  personage  con- 
nected with  them.  In  the  case  of  one  drama,  the 
Nagananda,  Buddha  is  invoked.1  This  prayer, 
called  the  nandi,  was  pronounced  by  the  manager 
of  the  theatre  (siitradhdra),  who  was  also  usually 
the  principal  actor.  It  formed  part  originally  of 
an  introductory  religious  ceremony  called  the 
piirvarahga,  and  remained  prefixed  to  the  drama 
as  a  sign  of  its  religious  origin. 

(2)  The  prologue. — At  the  conclusion  of  the 
nandi,  the  manager  calls  to  his  side  one  of  the 
actors  or  actresses  ;  and  the  dialogue  which  follows 
is  adroitly  used  to  bespeak  the  good-will  of  the 
audience,  to  give  some  account  of  the  piece  to  be 
performed,  and  to  lead  up  to  the  action  of  the 
opening  scene  by  calling  attention  to  the  character 
or  characters  who  now  appear  on  the  stage.  This 
introduction  (amukha  or  prastavana)  differs  from 
the  prologue  in  the  Latin,  French,  or  English 
comedy,  in  so  far  that  it  is  not  definitely  separated 
from  the  play  itself,  and  is  intended  to  set  the  plot 
in  motion. 

(3)  The  acts. — The  play  thus  begun  divides  itself 
naturally  into  acts  (ahlca),  each  forming,  as  it  were, 
a  chapter  in  the  story.  The  hero  appears  in  each 
act ;  and  an  act  comes  to  an  end  when  all  the 
characters  have  gone  off  the  stage.  The  unity  of 
time  is  preserved  only  within  each  act  and  not 
throughout  the  whole  play  ;  and  even  within  the 
act  the  rule  is  liberally  interpreted  by  a  proviso  that 
the  events  described  must  not  be  supposed  to  have 
lasted  more  than  twenty-four  hours.  The  time 
supposed  to  elapse  between  one  act  and  another  is, 
in  theory,  limited  to  a  year;  but  in  practice  a 
longer  interval  is  sometimes  permitted.2  The 
audience  is  made  acquainted  with  events  which 
have  taken  place  between  acts  by  means  of  inter- 
ludes (viskambhaka  or  praveialca),  which  take  the 

1  See  §  3  ;  cf.  also  the  fragments  of  plays  discovered  in  Central 
Asia  (ib.).    These  are  definitely  Buddhistic  in  character. 

2  See  Jackson,  'Time  Analysis  of  Sanskrit  Plays,'  in  JAOS 
XX.  [1899]  341-359   xxi.  [1900]  38-108. 


form  of  monologues  or  duologues.  The  unity  of 
place  is  not  observed.  Journeys  from  one  spot  to 
another,  or  from  the  earth  to  the  sky,  for  instance, 
may  be  represented  dramatically  within  the  act. 

(4)  Expression  of  emotions. — The  object  of  the 
dramatic  art  is  to  produce  emotion  in  the  mind  of 
the  spectator ;  ana  to  this  end  everything  else  is 
subordinated.  In  the  course  of  a  play  all  the 
emotions  {rasa),  enumerated  as  eight,1  may  be 
excited ;  but  those  of  love  and  heroism  should 
preponderate.  Death  and  fighting  must  not  be 
represented  on  the  stage ;  and  every  play  muso 
have  a  happy  ending.  Tragedy,  therefore,  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  word,  finds  no  place  in  the 
classical  Hindu  theatre.  These  characteristic  aims 
and  limitations  produce  in  Sanskrit  plays  a  senti- 
mental and  conventional  atmosphere  which  distin- 
guishes them  in  a  very  marked  manner  from  the 
tragedies  and  comedies  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome. 

(5)  Verse  and  prose  mixed. — A  no  less  striking 
contrast  is  presented  by  their  form.  Sanskrit 
plays  are  written  partly  in  verse  and  partly  in 
prose.  The  verse  portions  consist  of  short  lyrical 
poems  descriptive  of  the  beauties  of  Nature,  the 
charms  of  women,  feelings  of  love,  joy,  despair, 
etc.,  and  these  are  connected  by  a  prose  dialogue. 
The  action  of  the  plot  is  carried  on  almost  entirely 
in  prose,  while  the  personal  feelings  of  the  char- 
acters inspired  by  their  surroundings  are  expressed 
in  the  most  formal  verse.  These  lyrics,  couched  in 
a  great  variety  of  metres,  and  adorned  with  all  the 
devices  of  rhetoric,  are  highly  polished  specimens 
of  the  poetic  art  such  as  could  have  been  appre- 
ciated, or  even  understood,  only  by  a  cultured 
audience.  It  seems  probable  that,  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  the  drama,  the  verses  only  were  fixed, 
while  the  connecting  dialogue  was  left  to  improvis- 
ation, as  in  the  popular  plays  at  the  present  day. 

(6)  Sanskrit  and  Prakrit. — The  dramatis personce 
speak  either  the  literary  language  (Sanskrit)  or  one 
or  other  of  the  popular  dialects  (Prakrit).  The 
distribution  of  languages  among  the  various  char- 
acters may  be  given  as  follows  from  the  Daia-Rupa 
ii.  97-99  (ed.  and  tr.  Haas,  p.  75) : 

'  Sanskrit  is  to  be  spoken  by  men  that  are  not  of  low  rank,  by 
devotees,  and  in  some  cases  by  female  ascetics,  by  the  chief 
queen,2  by  daughters  of  ministers,  and  by  courtesans.  Prakrit 
is  generally  [to  be  the  language]  of  women,  and  Sauraseni  in  the 
case  of  male  characters  of  low  rank.  In  like  manner  Pisachas, 
very  low  persons,  and  the  like  are  to  speak  Paisachiand  Magadhi. 
Of  whatever  region  an  inferior  character  may  be,  of  that  region 
is  his  language  to  be.  For  a  special  purpose  the  language  of 
the  highest  and  subsequent  characters  may  be  changed.' 

This  diversity  of  tongues  would  seem  to  indicate 
that  the  drama  assumed  its  final  form  at  a  period 
when  the  educated  classes  were  in  the  habit  of 
using  Sanskrit  as  an  ordinary  means  of  com- 
munication, while  the  uneducated  classes  still 
continued  to  employ  their  own  dialects.  But, 
though  the  classical  drama  may  thus  show  con- 
ventionalized a  state  of  things  which  must  at  one 
time  have  had  its  basis  in  actual  fact,  its  Prakrits 
are  no  longer  the  genuine  language  of  the  people. 
They,  too,  have  become  conventional ;  that  is  to 
say,  they  are  merely  Sanskrit  changed  into  the 
various  Prakrits  in  accordance  with  what  were 
supposed  to  be  the  phonetic  peculiarities  of  each, 
in  much  the  same  way  as  the  Scotch  and  Irish 
characters  on  the  English  stage  are  often  made  to 
speak  a  jargon  which  is  nothing  more  than  per- 
verted English — the  work  of  a  dramatist  who  has  no 
knowledge  of  the  living  dialects.  These  dramatic 
Prakrits  are,  further,  assigned  to  different  classes 
of  characters,  and  applied  to  different  uses  in  the 
plays,  in  a  manner  which  is  also  purely  con- 
ventional. The  Prakrits  thus  represented  most 
commonly  are  three  in  number — Sauraseni,  Maha- 

1  For  an  elaborate  study  of  the  rasas,  see  Regnaud  Rhttoriqus 
sanskrite,  Paris,  1884,  pp.  267-364. 

2  In  the  extant  plays  the  queen  regularly  speaks  Prakrit. 


DRAMA  (Indian) 


S8S 


rastri  and  Magadhi  ;  but  a  number  of  others  are 
found  occasionally.  Saurasenl,  the  dialect  of  the 
region  of  the  Mathurn  (Muttra),  is  used  in  prose  by 
the  queen  and  her  attendants  and  by  the  higher 
subordinates  generally.  In  verse  the  same  char- 
acters use  Maharastri,  the  language  of  the  Mah- 
ratta  country.  The  lower  subordinate  characters 
speak  either  Magadhi,  the  dialect  of  Magadha 
(Bihar),  the  country  around  Pataliputra  (Patna), 
or  some  peculiar  patois  of  their  own.  A  fourth 
Prakrit,  Paisachi,  spoken  in  certain  districts  of 
N.W.  India,  is  said  by  the  grammarians  to  have 
been  used  in  the  drama,  but  is  known  at  present 
only  from  their  quotations,  and  has  not  been  found 
in  any  extant  play.1 

The  predominance  in  the  plays  of  Saurasenl,  the 
dialect  of  the  country  of  Mathura,  the  holy  land  of 
Krsnaism,  lends  some  support  to  the  theory,  which 
is  not  improbable  otherwise,  that  the  drama  had 
its  origin  in  religious  performances  celebrating  the 
life  and  exploits  of  Visnu-Krsna. 

(7)  The  characters,  etc. — The  characters  in  a  play 
may  be  either  semi-Divine  or  human  ;  and,  as 
according  to  Hindu  ideas  there  is  no  very  definite 
line  of  demarcation  to  be  drawn  between  these  two 
classes,  they  are  often  brought  into  association,  as, 
for  instance,  when  a  king  falls  in  love  with  an 
apsaras,  one  of  Indra's  nymphs. 

The  plot  may  be  taken  from  legend  or  from 
history,  or  it  may  be  founded  on  contemporary  life 
and  manners.  In  any  case,  the  main  interest 
almost  invariably  centres  in  a  love-story.  For  a 
rare  exception,  see  §3,  vi.  '  Mudraraksasa.' 

The  scenes  are  predominatingly,  though  by  no 
means  exclusively,  those  of  court  life ;  and  the 
persons  most  frequently  represented  are  kings  and 
queens  and  their  entourage.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  classical  drama  was  developed 
mainly  under  the  influence  of  royal  patronage,  and 
that  the  dramatists  were  usually  also  court  poets. 
The  dependants  of  the  court,  too,  supplied  certain 
types  which  are  especially  characteristic  of  the 
Indian  stage.  The  most  noteworthy  of  these  are 
the  vidusaka  (who  appears  in  nearly  all  the  plays 
except  those  of  Bhavabhuti),  the  vita,  and  the 
Sahara  (who  are  known  chiefly  from  the  Mrchchha- 
katikd  [see  §3]  and  the  text-books). 

The  vidusaka,  who  has  often  been  compared  with 
Shakespeare's  clown,  is  the  king's  confidant  and 
go-between.  His  gluttony,  his  stupidity,  and  his 
foibles  make  him  the  comic  character  of  the  piece. 
Although  a  Brahman,  he  speaks  Prakrit,  like  the 
uneducated  characters.  This  fact  probably  denotes 
that  the  type  has  been  borrowed  by  the  literary 
drama  from  the  popular  stage.8 

The  vita,  another  associate  of  the  king,  is  a 
person  of  wit  and  refinement,  who  combines  the 
graces  and  the  subserviency  of  the  courtier. 

The  Sahara  is  the  brother  of  one  of  the  inferior 
wives  of  the  king,  and  is  represented  as  an  insolent, 
overbearing  upstart.  The  name,  according  to  the 
grammarians,  denotes  a  person  of  Saka  descent 
(Pataiijali,  Mahabhasya,  ad  Panini,  IV.  i.  130). 
As  Sylvain  Levi  (Le  Thidtre  indien,  p.  361  f.)  has 
pointed  out,  this  etymology  is  historically  im- 
portant, as  showing  that  the  character  in  question 
first  found  a  place  in  the  Indian  drama  at  a  period 

1  For  a  fuller  account  of  the  Prakrits,  see  R.  Pischel,  Gram, 
der  Prakrit-Sprachen  (GIAP  i.  8,  StrasBburg,  1900) ;  on  the 
Paisachi,  see  also  Konow,  '  The  Home  of  Paisaci,'  in  ZDMG  lxiv. 
[1910] 95-118. 

2  Pischel  (Home  of  the  Puppet-play,  Eng.  tr.,  London,  1902) 
Bupposes  the  vidusaka  to  be  the  original  of  the  buffoon  who 
appears  in  various  forms  in  the  popular  theatres  of  mediaeval 
Europe.  It  is  perhaps  more  probable  that  some  such  character 
is  inevitable  wherever  a  popular  drama  is  developed.  A  nearer 
parallel  to  the  vidusaka  would  seem  to  be  supplied  by  the  friar, 
who  was  often  represented  as  a  comic  character.  On  the  vidu- 
saka, see  especially  Huizinga,  De  vidusaka  in  het  indisch  Tooneel 
(Groningen,  1897).  Cf.  also  Schmidt,  Beitrage  zur  ind.  Erotik, 
Leipzic.  1902.  pp.  200-203. 


when  Saka  princes  were  ruling  in  India,  and 
matrimonial  alliances  between  royal  houses  of 
Hindu  and  Saka  nationality  were  possible.  The 
peculiar  language  spoken  by  this  character  is  also 
said  to  be  that  of  the  Sakas  (Sahityadarpana , 
81,  S5). 

Historically  interesting  also  on  account  of  their 
name  are  the  yavanis,  who  attend  the  king  as 
armour-bearers.  These  must  have  been  originally 
Yavana  ('Greek')  women,  although,  like  the 
French  word  Suisse,  the  term  may  at  a  later 
date  have  been  used  to  denote  any  attendant  of 
a  particular  kind.1 

(8)  Buildings  and  stage-properties. — From  the 
prologues  to  the  dramas  we  learn  that  they  were 
usually  performed  on  the  occasion  of  a  festival — 
most  frequently  the  Spring  Festival  (see  §  10). 
The  simple  arrangements  of  the  Indian  stage 
required  no  building  fitted  with  special  contriv- 
ances like  our  own  theatres  or  the  Greek  Oiarpa. 
The  plays  were,  as  a  rule,  given  in  the  hall  of  a 
royal  palace  which  was  used  for  exhibitions  of 
singing  and  dancing  (samglta-iala). 

No  doubt  the  hall  was  sometimes  specially  intended  for 
dramatic  representations,  and  was,  therefore,  called  prekfd- 
gvha, '  play-house.'  Such  buildings  are  described  in  the  Ndtya- 
iastra  (see  §  4).  Inscriptions  in  a  cave  at  Ramagadh  seem  to 
indicate  that  it  was  intended  to  be  used  as  a  theatre  (see  Bloch, 
ZDMG  Iviii.  [1904]  455  ;  Ann.  Rep.  0/  the  Arehceol.  Survey  o] 
India,  ii.). 

The  stage  was  open  to  the  audience  in  front, 
while  the  background  was  formed  by  a  curtain 
divided  in  the  centre.  The  tiring-room  (nepathya) 
was  immediately  behind  the  curtain.  When  char- 
acters came  on  the  stage  in  a  dignified  manner,  the 
two  halves  of  the  curtain  were  drawn  aside  by 
attendants ;  but,  when  haste  was  to  be  indicated, 
the  actor  entered  '  with  a  toss  of  the  curtain ' 
(apati-ksepena). 

One  of  the  names  for  this  curtain,  yavanikd,  was  supposed 
by  Weber  (ZDMG  xiv.  [I860]  269,  Ind.  Stud.,  Leipzig,  1868, 
xiii.  492)  to  mean  '  the  Greek  cloth,'  and  the  etymology  was 
used  by  him  to  support  his  theory  of  Greek  influence  in  the 
Indian  drama.  The  word,  however,  more  probably  denotes 
some  fabric  made  by  the  Yavanas.  If  so,  it  is,  like  iakdra  and 
yarani,  interesting  as  evidence  of  the  period  in  which  the  drama 
assumed  its  form. 

Stage-properties  of  the  most  obvious  description 
only,  such  as  thrones  and  chariots,  were  used  ; 
and  there  was  no  scenery  in  the  ordinary  sense  of 
the  word.  Its  lack  was  supplied  by  lyrics  de- 
scribing the  imaginary  surroundings,  supplemented 
by  mimetic  action,  and  by  an  elaborate  system  of 
gesture  to  which  a  conventional  significance  well 
understood  by  the  audience  was  attached,  some- 
what in  the  style  of  the  modern  ballet. 

3.  The  most  important  plays. — 

The  earliest  specimen  of  the  Sanskrit  drama  was  formerly 
supposed  to  be  the  Mychchhakatikd,  which  was  referred  to  the 
4th  cent.  ;  but,  since  the  appearance  of  Sylvain  Levi's  Le 
TM&tre  indien,  it  is  now  generally  believed  to  belong  to  a 
later  period  (see  below,  iii.  '  Sudraka  ').  The  earliest  complete 
plays  which  have  been  published  would  seem  to  be  those  of 
Kalidasa,  who  probably  lived  in  the  reign  of  the  Gupta  monarch 
Chandragupta  II.  Vikramaditya  (a.d.  401-416).  But,  in  the 
prologue  to  what  is  usually  regarded  as  KiUidasa's  earliest 
drama,  the  Mdlavikdgnimitra,  he  records  the  names  of  some 
'far-famed'  predecessors — Bhasa,  Ramilla,  Saumilla,  and  Kavi- 
putra.  Until  recently  only  fragments  of  plays  by  these 
dramatists  were  known  ;  but,  in  May  1910,  Pandit  T.  Ganapati 
Sastri  discovered,  in  an  old  library  in  Travancore,  MSS  of  ten 
dramas  of  Bhasa,  including  the  Svapna-vdsavadattd,  of  which 
Bhasa  was  previously  known  to  be  the  author,  and  the  Daridra- 
chdrudatta,  from  which  the  plot  of  the  Mrchchhakap'kd  was 
borrowed.  Editions  of  these  plays  may  be  expected  to  appear 
shortly  in  the  Trivandrum  Sanskrit  Series  (see  Sylvain  Levi, 
J  A  xvi.  [1910]  388). 

Fragments  of  Indian  (Buddhist)  dramas  of  a  much  earlier 
date  have  been  discovered  in  Central  Asia.  These  belong  to 
the  early  Kusana  period,  when  Central  Asia  formed  part  of  the 
Indian  Empire ;  and  one  of  them  is  actually  the  work  of 
As>aghosa,  the  court  poet  of  Kaniska.  The  chronology  of  the 
Kusana  period  is  at  present  in  an  unsettled  state  ;  and  the  age 
of  these  fragments  will  be  variously  estimated  according  to  the 
different  views  which  scholars  hold  as  to  the  epoch  of  Kaniska . 


1  For  the  period  to  which  these  foreign   invaders  belong, 
see  §  10. 


886 


DRAMA  (Indian) 


That  is  to  Bay,  while  some  will  suppose  them  to  belong  to  the 
1st  cent.  B.C.,  others  will  assign  them  to  the  1st  or  to  the  early 
part  of  the  2nd  cent.  a.d.  These  dramas  are  of  the  con- 
ventional form  (see  §  2),  and  do  not  differ  essentially  in  lan- 
guage or  style  from  the  well-known  examples  of  the  classical 
period.  Their  evidence  is  extremely  important,  as  showing 
that  the  structure  of  the  drama  was  already  settled  at  a  period 
which  may  be  from  three  to  four  and  a  half  centuries  anterior 
to  Kalidasa  (see  §  10  (4)).  See  Eoniglich  Preussische  Turfan- 
Expeditionen :  Eleinere  Sanskrit-Texte,  Heft  1,  '  Bruchstiicke 
buddbistischer  Dramen  herausgegeben  von  Heinrich  Luders,' 
Berlin,  1911 ;  Das  Sdriputra-prakararta,  ein  Drama  des  A$va- 
ghosa,  by  Heinrich  Luders,  Berlin,  1911  (Sitzungsber.  der 
Eimig.  Preuss.  Akad.  der  Wisse.nschaften,  Phil.-Hist.  Olasse, 
p.  388). 

The  number  of  extant  plays  recorded  in  Schuyler's 
Bibliography  of  the  Sanskrit  Drama  exceeds  five 
hundred,  but  a  great  number  of  these  are  late  and 
purely  imitative  productions  of  little  interest  or 
literary  value.  The  following  list  contains  the 
titles,  with  short  descriptions,  of  the  most  im- 
portant : 

i.  KiTlidSsa. — (1)  Mdlavikdgnimitra :  the  story  of  King 
Agnimitra  and  the  Princess  Malavika  (repeatedly  translated, 
e.g.  Tawney2,  Calcutta,  1891).  The  play  is  historical  in  the 
sense  that  some  of  the  characters  are  known  to  history. 
Agnimitra  was  the  second  member  of  the  Suuga  dynasty, 
which  succeeded  the  Mauryas  in  the  kingdom  of  Vidi^a  (E. 
Malwa),  c.  178  B.o.  Incidents  referred  to  in  the  play,  such  as  the 
war  with  Vidarbha  and  the  defeat  of  the  Yavanas,  are  also 
perhaps  historical.  (2)  Sakuntala  (the  most  popular  of  Skr. 
plays ;  first  tr.  Jones,  Calcutta,  1789) :  the  story  of  King 
Dusyanta  and  the  nymph  Sakuntala,  taken  from  bk.  i.  of  the 
Mahabharata.  (3)  Vikramorva6i  (repeatedly  translated,  e.g. 
by  Wilson) :  the  story  of  King  Pururavas  and  the  Nymph 
Urvasi,  which  goes  back  to  Vedic  times.  A  dialogue  between 
these  two  personages  is  found  in  the  Rigveda  (x.  95). 

ii.  Harsa  (reigned  a.d.  606— c.  648).— (1  and  2)  Ratnavali 
(Eng.  tr.  by  Wilson)  and  PriyadarSikd  (tr.  Strehly,  Paris,  1888  ; 
Eng.  tr.  in  preparation  by  A.  V.  W.  Jackson),  named  after  their 
heroines.  The  plots  are  taken  from  the  cycle  of  stories  about 
the  adventures  of  King  Udayana  of  Vatsa.  (3)  Ndgdnanda : 
founded  on  the  Buddhist  story  of  the  Bodhisattva  Jimuta- 
vahana  (Eng.  tr.  by  Boyd,  London,  1872).  In  the  opening 
benediction  Buddha  is  invoked.1 

iii.  Sudrara. — Mrchchhakatika,  '  The  Clay  Cart ' :  a  comedy 
of  middle-class  contemporary  life.  The  plot  gathers  around  the 
love  of  the  rich  courtesan  Vasantasena  for  the  poor  but  well- 
born Charudatta  (Eng.  tr.  by  Wilson,  and  especially  Ryder, 
Cambridge,  Mass.,  1905).  This,  the  most  human  and  amusing 
of  Sanskrit  plays,  is  now  known  to  be  an  adaptation  of  Bhasa's 
Daridra-chdrudatta,  *  Poor  Charudatta.' 2 

iv.  Bhavabhdti  (flourished  at  the  court  of  Yasovarman  of 
Kanauj,  c.  a.d.  690).— (1  and  2)  MahavlrachaHta  (tr.  Pickford, 
London,  1871)  and  Uttarardmacharita  (several  translations, 
e.g.  by  Wilson) :  founded  on  the  story  of  Rama.  (3)  Mdlati- 
mddhava :  a  comedy  of  contemporary  life  named  after  the  two 
chief  characters  Malatiand  Madhava  (Eng.  tr.  by  Wilson). 

v.  Bhatta  Narayana  (before  the  second  half  of  the  9th  cent.). 
— Venisarjiihdra  (Eng.  tr.  by  Tagore,  Calcutta,  1880):  the  plot 
is  taken  from  the  Mahabharata. 

vi.  Visakhadatta  or  Vi^arhadkva  (about  the  same  date  as 
the  last). — Mudrdrdksasa :  a  political  drama  with  no  principal 
female  characters  and  no  love  interest  (Eng.  tr.  by  Wilson). 
The  plot  is  historical.  It  turns  on  the  fall  of  the  Nandas  and 
the  coming  to  power  (c.  315  B.C.)  of  Chandragupta,  the  founder 
of  the  Maurya  dynasty,  the  2ai-5poKOTTos  of  Alexander  the 
Great's  historians. 

vii.  Rajasekhara  (l'ved  at  the  court  of  Mahendrapala  of 
Kanauj,  c.  a.d.  900).— (1)  ViddhaHalabhafljikd,  '  The  Pierced 
Statue'  (Eng.  tr.  by  Gray,  JAOS  xxvii.  [1906]  1-71);  (2) 
Earpurainafljari,  'The  Camphor  Cluster'  (ed.  and  tr.  Konow 
and  Lanman,  Cambridge,  Mass. ,  1901) ;  (3  and  4)  Bala- 
rdmdyana  and  Bdla-bharata.  The  first  of  these  is,  in  some 
respects,  an  imitation  of  the  Ratnavali ;  the  second  is  note- 
worthy as  being  the  only  extant  example  of  a  play  written 
altogether  in  Prakrit ;  the  third  and  fourth  are  founded  respec- 
tively on  the  stories  of  the  Rdmdyana  and  the  Mahabharata. 

viii.  Krsnamisra  (11th  cent.).— Prabodhachandroday a,  '  The 
Rising  of  the  Moon  of  Wisdom ' :  an  allegorical  play  in  which 
the  characters  are  abstract  ideas,  virtues,  or  vices.3    Its  object 

1  Although  these  three  plays  bear  the  name  of  King  Harsa- 
vardhana  Siladitya  of  Thanesar,  and  each  contains  a  verse 
asserting  the  royal  authorship,  it  is  probable  that  they  were  the 
work  of  a  court  poet,  perhaps  Bana,  to  whom  also  a  play 
entitled  PdrvatVparinaya,  'Parvati's  Wedding'  (tr.  Glaser, 
Trieste  programme,  1886),  is  attributed  (on  this  whole  pro- 
blem, see  Ettinghausen,  Har$a  Vardhana,  empereur  et  po'ete, 
f-aris,  190Q). 

2  King  Sudraka,  to  whom  this  comedy  is  attributed,  is  the 
central  figure  of  a  group  of  legends,  from  which  no  exact 
information  as  to  his  date  or,  locality  can  be  obtained.  As  in 
other  similar  cases,  it  is  probable  that  the  actual  author  was 
some  court  poet.  The  Mxchchhakatika  may  perhaps  belong  to 
the  6th  or  7th  century. 

3  Allegorical  characters  are  also  found  in  one  of  the  Buddhist 
plays  of  which  fragments  have  been  discovered  in  Central  Asia. 


is  to  glorify  the  Vedanta  philosophy  and  to  inculcate  the  worship 
of  Visnu  (Eng.  tr.  by  Taylor  3,  Bombay,  1893). 

For  dramas  inscribed  on  stone,  see  Kielhorn,  ( Bruchstiicke 
ind.  Schauspiele  in  Inschriften  zu  Ajmere'  (GGN,  1901);  and 
Hultzsch,  Epigr.  Ind.  viii.  [1905-6]  96. 

4.  Works  on  the  theatre.— Of  the  Sanskrit 
treatises  which  deal  with  dramatic  composition 
and  theatrical  representation  the  following  are  the 
most  important : — 

The  Natya-s'astra  is  an  encyclopaedia  dealing 
with  the  theatre  and  all  the  arts  associated  there- 
with. It  is  regarded  as  the  highest  authority, 
and  is  supposed  to  be  of  Divine  authorship.  It  is 
said  to  have  been  revealed  as  a  fifth  Veda  by  the 
god  Brahma  to  the  sage  Bharata,  who  is  often 
mentioned  in  the  plays  as  the  stage-manager  of 
the  gods.  It  is  at  least  as  old  as  the  earliest 
extant  dramas,  and  may  be  much  older.  The  list 
of  foreign  invaders  of  India  mentioned  in  it — 
Sakas,  Yavanas,  Pahlavas,  Bahllkas — seems  to 
indicate  the  same  period  as  the  dramas  themselves 
(see  Sylvain  Levi,  op.  cit.>  Appendix,  p.  3). 

The  DaSa-Bupa  {ed.  and  tr.  Haas,  New  York, 
1911)  of  Dhanamjaya,  who  lived  in  the  reign  of 
Munja  or  Vakpatiraja,  king  of  Malwa  (last  quarter 
of  the  10th  cent.),  deals  only  with  the  dramatic 
art,  which  it  analyzes  under  four  headings:  (1) 
the  plot,  (2)  the  hero  and  the  other  characters,  (3) 
the  prologue  and  the  various  species  of  dramatic 
composition,  (4)  the  poetry  and  the  sentiments  to 
be  expresssed. 

The  Sdhityadarpana  (ed.  and  tr.  Ballantyne  and 
Mitra,  Calcutta,  1875)  of  Visvanatha,  of  uncertain 
date,  treats  not  only  of  the  drama  but  also  of  the 
whole  art  of  poetry. 

These  works  show  a  subtle  power  of  analysis 
which  is  characteristically  Indian ;  but  the  ana- 
lysis is  rather  of  the  form  than  of  the  spirit,  and 
is  as  alien  as  possible  from  what  has,  since  the 
days  of  Aristotle,  been  regarded  as  dramatic  criti- 
cism in  the  West.  Thus,  the  principles  in  accord- 
ance with  which  dramas  are  classified  are  founded 
on  what  we  should  consider  accidents  rather  than 
essentials  ;  for  example,  the  rank  of  the  hero,  the 
number  of  the  acts,  the  kind  of  language  (whether 
partly  in  Sanskrit  and  partly  in  Prakrit,  or  alto- 
gether in  Prakrit,  etc.).  According  to  such  prin- 
ciples, all  dramas  are  divided  into  two  main  classes 
— a  higher  (rfipaka),  of  which  there  are  10  varie- 
ties ;  and  a  lower  (upariipaka),  of  which  there  are 
18  varieties.  Of  the  rupaka,  the  first  variety  is 
the  ndtaka,  which  must  consist  of  not  fewer  than 
5  and  not  more  than  10  acts,  and  in  which  the 
hero  must  be  a  god  or  a  prince,  e.g.  Sakuntala. 
The  next  variety  is  the  pra/carana,  a  love-story 
of  real  life,  in  which  hero  and  heroine  must  be  of 
good  family,  e.g.  Mrchchhakatika.  Of  the  uparu- 
paka  the  chief  variety  is  the  ndtika,  which  has  the 
same  type  of  hero  as  the  ndtaka,  but  is  confined 
to  4  acts,  e.g.  Ratnavali.  Another  variety,  the 
fourth  in  the  enumeration,  is  the  sattaka,  which 
(according  to  the  Sdhityadarpana)  is  like  the 
ndtika,  except  that  it  is  written  entirely  in  Pra- 
krit, e.g.  Karpurainanjarl. 

[In  addition  to  the  rupakas  and  uparwpakas  just  noted,  the 
following  types  described  by  the  Indian  dramaturgists  are  also 
accessible,  though  the  majority  of  them  are  still  untranslated. 

1.  ROpakas.—  (i.)  The  Bhdna,  or  monologue,  descriptive  of 
the  passing  throng  or  of  a  rascal's  exploits  (e.g.  Vasantatilaka 
of  Varadacharya,  ed.  Vidyasagara,  Calcutta,  1872 ;  Eng.  tr.  in 
course  of  preparation  by  L.  H.  Gray),  (ii.)  Prahasana,  or  farce 
(e.g.  Jyotirisvara's  Dhurtasamdgama,  tr.  Marazzi,  Teatro  scelto 
indiano,  Milan,  1871-74,  ii.  1S9-231).  (iii.)  Dima,  or  presenta- 
tion of  terrible  events,  the  effect  of  the  combats,  etc. ,  often  being 
enhanced  by  sorcery,  eclipses,  and  the  like  (e.g.  Rama's  Man- 
mathonmathana,  ed.  R.  Schmidt,  ZDMG  lxiii.  [1909]  409-437, 
629-654).  (iv.)  Vydyoga,  or  military  spectacle,  from  which  the 
sentiment  of  love  is  excluded  (e.g.  Kahchanacharya's  Dhanam- 
jayavijaya,  ed.  Sivadatta  and  Parab,  Bombay,  1S95). 

2.  UpARtJPAKAS. — (i.)  The  Trotaka,  merely  a  variety  of  the 
nd$aka  (e.g.  the  VikramorvaM  fj  3,  i.]).  (ii.)  Srigadita,  iii 
which  the  name  of  the  goddess  Sri  ('Fortune')  is  frequently 
mentioned,  or  the  divinity  is  imitated  by  the  heroine  (e.g.  Ma- 


DRAMA  (Indian) 


887 


dhava  Bhafta's  Subluntrdliarana,  ed.  Durgaprasada  and  Parab, 
Bombay,  1888).  (iii.)  Rhdnikd,  a  comic  piece  in  one  act  (e.g. 
Rupa  Gosvami's  Ddnakelikaumudi,  ed.  Jiva  Gosvami,  Mur- 
shidabad,  1881). 

To  these  should  be  added,  though  unmentioned  by  the  native 
dramaturgists,  the  very  interesting  Chdya.ndt.aka,  or  '  shadow 
play '  (e.g.  Subhata's  Dutdngada,  tr.  Gray,  JAOS  xxxi.  [1911] ; 
see  below,  §  6).— L.  H.  Gray.] 

In  the  same  spirit  the  theorists  delight  in  arrang- 
ing into  divisions  and  sub-divisions — according  to 
rank,  character,  and  circumstances — all  the  con- 
ceivable types  of  hero  and  heroine,  and  all  the  pos- 
sible varieties  of  plot.  Artificial  and  meticulous 
as  is  the  theory  of  drama  thus  presented,  it  is 
substantially  observed  in  all  the  plays  extant,  and 
it  acquires  a  more  binding  power  as  time  goes 
i>n,  so  that  the  later  productions  are  no  longer 
works  of  art,  but  exercises  written  to  illustrate 
.rales. 

5.  Prakrit  nomenclature  a  sign  of  popular  origin. 
— The  whole  nomenclature  of  the  drama,  however, 
as  employed  and  expounded  by  the  theorists,  sup- 
plies indisputable  evidence  of  its  popular  origin. 
The  terms  denoting  acting  and  actors,  the  different 
kinds  of  plays,  theatrical  appliances,  etc.,  are  pre- 
dominatingly Prakrit  and  not  Sanskrit,  as  they 
must  have  been  if  the  drama  had  been  literary 
from  the  first.  The  very  root  nat,  'to  act,'  is 
the  Prakrit  equivalent  of  the  Sanskrit  nft,  'to 
dance,'  in  the  Indian  sense,  that  is,  '  to  express  by 
mimetic  action.'  It  occurs  in  Panini's  grammar 
(IV.  iii.  110,  129;  4th  cent.  B.C.),  and  both  Panmi 
himself  and,  still  more  explicitly,  his  commentator 
Patafijali  (2nd  cent.  B.C.)  show  that,  at  their  re- 
spective dates,  the  educated  classes  spoke  Sanskrit, 
while  the  common  people  still  continued  to  use 
their  native  dialects.  The  drama,  then,  had  its 
origin  among  the  common  people ;  and,  at  the 
later  period  when  it  assumed  a  literary  form,  its 
nomenclature  was  so  firmly  established  as  not  to 
suffer  change  through  the  influence  of  its  new  sur- 
roundings. 

6.  Influence  of  the  puppet-play. — Further  evi- 
dence of  a  popular  origin  has  been  seen  in  the 
titles  sutradhara  and  sthdpaka  applied  to  the 
manager  and  to  his  principal  assistant.  The  word 
sutradhara  means  literally  '  the  holder  of  the 
strings,' and  sthdpaka  'the  placer.'  These  terms 
are  supposed  to  have  been  borrowed  from  the 
puppet-play,  which  was  undoubtedly  a  very 
ancient  form  of  dramatic  representation  in  India, 
and  is  alluded  to  by  Nilakantha  in  his  com- 
mentary on  Mahabharata,  XII.  ccxcv.  5  (Shankar 
Pandit,  in  notes  to  VikramorvaB,  p.  4,  Bombay 
Sanskrit  Series,  1879 ;  Pischel,  Home  of  the 
Puppet-play,  and  '  Das  altind.  Schattenspiel,' 
SBAW  xxiii.  [1906]  482-502;  Gray,  introduction 
to  his  tr.  of  the  Dutahgada,  in  J  A  OS  xxxii.  [1912]). 

The  sthdpaka,  who  is  well-known  from  the  text-books,  has 
almost  vanished  from  the  stage.  He  probably,  however,  ap- 
pears in  the  Karpuramafijari,  although  the  ilSS  are  not  in 
agreement  on  this  point  (see  Konow  and  Lanman,  Karpura- 
maftjai-i,  p.  196,  Harvard  Oriental  Series,  vol.  iv.  [1901]). 

7.  Popular  plays  (ydtras). — The  classical  drama 
is,  therefore,  a  popular  product  which  has  received 
a  literary  development.  This  development  took 
place,  as  is,  indeed,  true  of  classical  Sanskrit 
literature  generally,  under  royal  patronage.  The 
plays,  as  we  learn  from  the  prologues,  were  most 
frequently  performed  at  palaces  on  the  occasion  of 
the  Spring  Festival ;  the  characters  represented 
are  most  commonly  kings  and  queens  and  the  per- 
sonnel of  the  court ;  the  dramatists  are  usually 
court  poets  ;  and  the  authorship  of  a  number  of 
plays  is  attributed  to  the  kings  themselves. 

The  popular  drama,  however,  did  not  cease  to 
exist  because  it  assumed  a  more  polished  form 
at  courts.  While  the  works  of  a  Kalidasa  or  a 
Bhavabhuti  were  being  performed  before  a  courtly 
audience  in   the  hall  of  the  palace,   the  popular 


plays  were  appealing  to  humbler  folk  in  the  open 
air.  They  still  survive  in  India  under  the  name 
of  ydtras,  a  name  which  declares  their  religious 
origin  ;  for  yatrd  means  a  festival  in  honour  of 
some  deity.  The  plots,  too,  of  these  popular  plays 
are  still  religious  in  character.  They  are  still 
taken  from  the  legends  of  the  gods  and  heroes  of 
the  Mahabharata  and  Rdmayana.  The  striking 
similarity  between  the  ydtras  and  the  '  mysteries ' 
of  mediaeval  Europe  has  been  pointed  out  by 
Nisikanta  Ckattopadhyaya  (The  Ydtras,  or  the 
Popular  Dramas  of  Bengal,  London,  1882,  p.  3 ; 
Ind.  Essays,  Zurich,  1883,  p.  3),  and  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  the  theatre  in  India,  as  in  Europe, 
had  its  origin  in  religion. 

8.  References  to  drama  in  early  literature. — The 
earliest  certain  mention  of  a  dramatic  literature 
appears  to  occur  in  Panini's  grammar  (c.  350  B.C.), 
IV.  iii.  110-111,  where  he  gives  rules  for  the  forma- 
tion of  the  names  denoting  the  followers  of  two 
text-books  on  the  drama — those  of  Ssilalin  and 
Krsasvin.  These  treatises  are  lost ;  it  is  probable 
that  they  and  all  other  works  of  the  same  nature 
were  superseded  by  the  Natya-idstra  (see  §  4). 
Panini's  commentator,  Patafijali  (c.  140  B.C.),  often 
refers  in  his  Mahdbhdsya  to  actors,  and  mentions 
two  plays  by  name — Kamsavadha,  '  the  Slaying  of 
Kamsa,'  and  Balibandhana,  '  the  Binding  of  Bali ' 
— with  the  additional  information  that  in  the  former 
the  adherents  of  Kamsa  and  Vasudeva  respectively 
reddened  and  blackened  their  faces  (Weber,  Ind. 
Studien,  xiii.  487  ;  cf.  also  Keith,  ZDMG  lxiv. 
[1910]  534-536).  As  both  of  the  earliest  recorded 
plays  celebrated  the  exploits  of  the  god  Visnu,  it 
has  been  suggested  that  the  drama  may  have  taken 
its  origin  from  religious  performances  in  his  honour. 
There  are  also  other  indications  that  this  view  may 
possibly  be  correct  (see  §  2  (6)). 

9.  Dramatic  character  of  some  early  literature. 
— The  earliest  literature  of  India,  extending  back 
to  a  period  c.  1200  or  1500  B.C.,  includes  certain 
compositions  which  are  to  some  extent  dramatic  in 
character,  and  which  may  well  have  supplied  the 
germ  of  a  regular  drama.  In  the  Rigveda  there 
are  fifteen  hymns  written  in  the  form  of  dialogues, 
which,  if  recited  with  appropriate  action  and  with 
the  parts  assigned  to  separate  actors,  would  make 
diminutive  plays.1 

The  ancient  epic  poems,  the  Mahabharata  and 
Rdmayana,  contain  many  scenes  which  might  well 
be  acted.  The  step  from  the  epic  to  the  drama,  if 
such  a  development  had  taken  place  in  India,  would 
have  been  a  short  one,  since  the  change  of  speaker 
in  the  epic  is  denoted  by  a  short  prose  statement, 
which  is  little  more  than  a  stage  direction — 'A. 
spake  ' — and  not  by  a  line  of  verse  incorporated  in 
the  poem,  as  in  Homer. 

The  Brahmana  literature,  dating  from  c.  800  B.C., 
also  contains  accounts  of  performances  of  a  dra- 
matic character  which  took  place  in  connexion  with 
certain  religious  ceremonies : 

'  On  solemn  occasions,  such  as  that  of  the  sacrifice  of  a  horse, 
it  was  the  custom  in  Vedic  times  to  recite  old  histories  and 
songs  ;  and  ftfae  performers,  the  priests  of  the  Rig-veda  and  the 
Yajur-veda  spoke  turn  and  turn  about '  (Hillebrandt,  Ritual- 
Litteratur  [61 AP  iii..  2],  Strassburg,  1897,  p.  160).  On  the  day 
of  a  Mahavrata  an  Arya  and  Sudra  appeared,  who  disputed 
about  a  skin  (Hillebrandt,  Roman.  Forsch.  v.  [1890]  327) ;  and 
at  the  ceremony  of  the  purchase  of  soma  a  buyer  and  seller 
were  introduced,  who  held  an  animated  conversation  about  the 
price.  The  buyer  made  his  offer,  the  seller  raised  his  price.  If 
the  soma-dealer  proved  refractory,  the  purchaser  was  bound  to 
tear  the  soma  from  him,  and  also  to  take  away  the  gold  and  the 
cow  which  he  had  given  for  the  soma.  If  the  dealer  resisted, 
the  buyer  had  to  beat  him  with  a  leather  strap  or  with  billets 

1  For  these  '  sainvdda '  hymns,  see  Oldenherg,  ZDMG  xxxvii. 
(1883)  54,  and  xxxix.  (1S85)  62  ;  Sylvain  Levi,  op.  cit.  301 ;  von 
Schroder,  Mysterium  u.  Mimus  im  Rig-veda,  Leipzig,  1908, 
p.  1 ;  Winternitz,  WZEM  xxiii.  [1909]  102  ;  Hertel,  '  Ursprung 
des  ind.  Dramas  und  Epos,'  ib.  xviii.  (1904)69-83, 137-16S;  Keith, 
in  JRAS,  1911,  p.  979. 


DRAMA  (Japanese; 


of  wood  (Hillebrandt,  Vedische  Mythologie,  Breslau,  1891-1902, 
i.  75;  Pischel,  Home  of  the  Puppet-play,  p.  12).1 

10.  Origin  of  the  drama. — The  foregoing  para- 
graphs contain  a  summary  of  such  evidence  as 
bears  on  the  question  of  the  origin  of  the  drama. 
From  a  consideration  of  the  evidence  thus  sum- 
marized, the  following  four  points  would  seem  to 
be  established : 

(1)  The  drama  was  of  popular,  not  of  learned, 
origin  (see  §  5).  It  is,  therefore,  difficult  to  suppose 
any  connexion  between  it  and  the  samvada  hymns 
of  the  Rigveda  (see  §  9). 

(2)  The  drama  is  of  lyric,  not  of  epic,  origin. 
The  actual  plays  are  essentially  lyrical.  Their 
frame-work  consists  of  a  number  of  little  poems 
about  the  beauties  of  Nature,  or  personal  feelings, 
somewhat  after  the  manner  of  Heine's  Lieder.  The 
prose  dialogue  which  connects  these  is  of  minor 
importance,  and  originally  was  probably  left  to 
improvisation  (see  §  2  (5)).  It  is  probable,  then, 
that  the  drama  arose  from  songs  associated  with 
gestures,  i.e.  'dancing,'  in  the  Indian  sense.  Its 
form  could  not  be  explained  if  it  were  supposed  to 
be  of  epic  origin  (see  §  9).2 

(3)  Its  origin  was  religious.  This  is  inferred  from 
the  existence  of  the  nandi  (see  §  2  (1)),  from  the 
analogy  of  the  yatras  (§  7),  and  from  the  titles  of 
the  earliest  recorded  plays  (§  8).  The  fact  that 
dramas  were  regularly  performed  at  the  Festival 
of  Spring  would  seem  to  indicate  that  the  rites 
from  which  they  derived  their  origin  may  have 
been  originally  associated  with  some  primitive 
form  of  Nature-worship,  like  those  which  are 
found  incorporated  in  Brahman  ritual  (§  9).  It  is 
quite  possible  that,  in  certain  parts  of  India,  the 
worship  of  Visnu-Krsna,  with  which  the  drama 
would  appear  to  be  especially  connected  (§§  2  (6), 
8),  may  have  been  at  a  later  date  superimposed  on 
some  popular  festival  of  the  kind. 

(4)  A  drama  of  some  kind  certainly  existed  as  early 
as  350  B.C.  (see  §  8),  and,  at  some  period  between 
this  date  and  the  date  of  the  fragments  found  in 
Central  Asia  (see  §  3),  the  form  of  the  classical 
drama  was  stereotyped.  The  peoples  of  foreign 
nationality  who  have  left  their  traces  in  the 
drama,  and  who  are  mentioned  in  the  dramatic 
text -books,  are  those  who  occur  in  the  other 
literature — epics,  grammatical  works,  law-books, 
etc. — and  in  the  inscriptions  which  fall  within  this 
period  (Rapson,  B.  M.  Cat.,  'Andhra  Dynasty,' 
etc.,  London,  1908,  p.  xcviii). 

II.  The  question  of  Greek  influence. — The  view, 
formerly  widely  accepted,  and  most  fully  expounded 
by  Windisch  ('  Der  griech.  Einfluss  im  ind.  Drama ' 
[Verh.  d.  5  Internat.  Or. -Cong.,  Berlin,  1882,  II. 
ii.  3]),  that  the  Indian  drama  had  been  influenced 
by  the  Newer  Attic  Comedy  of  Menander  and 
Philemon  (340-260  B.C.),  probably  finds  few  sup- 
porters at  the  present  day.  The  arguments  of 
Windisch  are  carefully  considered  one  by  one  by 
Sylvain  Levi  (op.  cit.),  who  finds  none  of  them  con- 
vincing ;  and,  as  has  been  pointed  out  (§§  2,  10), 
there  are  so  many  fundamental  differences  between 
the  Indian  and  the  Greek  drama  that,  prima  facie, 
they  have  all  the  appearance  of  being  independent 
developments. 

Literature. — The  standard  work  on  the  Sanskrit  drama  is 
Sylvain  L(jvi,  Le  Theatre  indien,  Paris,  1890 ;  the  best  collec- 
tion of  English  translations  is  still  that  of  H.  H.  Wilson,  Select 
Specimens  of  the  Theatre  of  the  Hindus  =  vols.  xi.  and  xii.  of 
Works  of  H.  H.  Wilson,  London,  1871 ;  the  best  Bibliography 
of  the  Sanskrit  Drama  is  that  of  Montgomery  Schuyler,  vol. 
iii.  of  the  Columbia  University  Indo-Iranian  Series,  New  York, 


1  To  the  reference  given  by  Pischel  add  von  Schroder,  Mys- 
terium  u.  Mimus,  and  Keith,  'Sdnkhayana  Arwnyaka,  London, 
1908,  Appendix  on  the  Mahavrata,  p.  73. 

*  An  extremely  polished  form  of  the  primitive  yatra  probably 
exists  in  Jayadeva'e  Gitagovinda  (12th  cent.),  made  accessible 
in  Sir  Edwin  Arnold's  Indian  Song  of  Songs  (London,  1876). 


1906.  A  survey  of  Indian  dramaturgic  literature,  with  refer- 
ences to  parallel  passages,  is  given  by  G.  C.  O.  Haas,  in  his  ed 
and  tr.  of  the  Daka-llupa  in  the  same  series  (New  York,  1911). 
Reference  may  also  be  made  to  A.  V.  Williams  Jackson, 
'  Certain  Dramatic  Elements  in  Sanskrit  Plays,  with  Parallels 
in  the  English  Drama,'  in  AJPh  xix.  (1898)241-254,  and  'Chil- 
dren on  the  Stage  in  the  Ancient  Hindu  Drama,'  in  Looker-On, 
v.  (1897)  509-516  ;  and  to  L.  H.  Gray,  '  The  Sanskrit  Novel  and 
the  Sanskrit  Drama,'  in  WZEM  xviii.  (1904)  48-64. 

E.  J.  Rapson. 

DRAMA  (Japanese). — 1.  Origin. — The  Japan- 
ese themselves  do  not  hesitate  to  carry  back  the 
drama  to  mythological  times. 

The  Kojiki  tells  us  how  the  great  sun-goddess  Amaterasu-r 
mikami-no-mikoto,  angry  with  her  mischievous  and  turbulent 
brother  Susa  no  wo,  god  of  winds  and  storms,  hid  herself  in  a  cave 
and  refused  to  come  forth.  The  gods,  distressed  by  the  eclipse 
of  light  which  ensued,  sought  to  lure  her  from  the  caveru,  and 
at  last  succeeded  in  doing  so  by  means  of  a  simple  play.  A 
young  and  beautiful  deity,  Amatsu-uzume-no-mikoto,  clad  in 
moss  from  the  mountain  of  Kayou,  garlanded  with  flowers  from 
the  spindle-tree,  and  bearing  in  her  hand  a  bunch  of  bamboo- 
fronds,  was  set  to  dance  a  hieratic  dance  at  the  entrance  to  the 
cavern.  The  dance  (it  is  still  exhibited  at  Ise  and  Nara,  and 
in  Izumo)  was  found  vastly  amusing  by  the  crowd  of  gods 
assembled  at  the  cave  to  witness  the  success  or  failure  of  the 
experiment,  and  a  roar  of  delighted  laughter  went  up  from 
them.  The  6ulking  sun-goddess  was  filled  with  woman-like 
curiosity,  peeped  out  from  her  hiding-place,  and  was  finally 
presuaded  to  return  to  her  proper  sphere.  Thus  the  Ama-no- 
iwado-no-kagura,  or  '  play  before  the  celestial  gate,'  came  to  be 
looked  upon  as  the  germ  from  which  has  sprung  the  classical 
drama  of  old  Japan. 

The  value  of  the  above  legend  depends  on  the 
view  taken  as  to  the  historic  value  of  the  Kojiki, 
a  compilation  of  the  8th  cent.  A.D.,  to  which  few 
foreigners  would  assign  the  same  high  position 
that  is  accorded  to  it  by  the  Japanese.  Under  the 
year  a.d.  671,  however,  the  Nihongi  speaks  of  a 
tamai,  or  '  rice-field-dance,'  connected  with  the 
ingathering  of  the  harvest ;  and  this,  by  the  be- 
ginning of  the  11th  cent.,  had  developed  into  a 
more  or  less  formal  pantomime  under  a  Chinese 
name  dengaku,  which  signifies  the  same  thing  as 
tamai.  The  tamai,  however,  seems  to  have  been 
a  purely  Shintoistic  dance,  connected  with  the 
indigenous  Nature  -  worship  :  the  dengaku  was 
more  or  less  buddhicized,  and  was  performed  by 
men  with  shaven  crowns  who  were  called  dengaku- 
boshi,  or  teachers  of  the  law  connected  with  the 
rice -field -dance,  and  who  belonged  (doubtless 
irregularly)  to  the  Buddhist  clergy.  We  have 
here  a  point  of  contact  with  the  history  of  Bud- 
dhist developments  in  Japan.  During  the  9th  and 
10th  cents.,  when  the  miseries  of  the  country  were 
very  great,  and  when  little,  if  anything,  was  done 
for  the  amelioration  of  the  people  by  the  selfishly 
cultured  monks  whose  chief  seats  were  in  Nara, 
Kyoto,  Hieizan,  and  a  few  other  seats  of  mon- 
astic piety,  travelling  priests  belonging  to  no  par- 
ticular sect  of  Buddhism  itinerated  throughout 
the  country,  gathering  the  people  round  them  by 
simple  dances  and  religious  performances,  and 
teaching  the  elements  of  popular  religion.  These 
men  were  known  as  odori-nembutsu,  '  dancing 
reciters  of  prayers.'  They  were  also  dengaku- 
boshi.  The  most  famous  of  these  men  was  Kuya 
Shonin  (9th  cent.),  a  prince  of  the  Imperial  blood, 
who  travelled  all  through  the  country  with  his 
mystery  plays  and  dances.  It  is  in  these  itinerat- 
ing preachers  that  we  find  the  true  successors  of 
that  faith  in  Amitabha  alone,  which,  developed  in 
the  7th  cent,  by  the  Chinese  patriarch  Zendo,  and 
encouraged  by  Shotoku  Taishi,  disappeared  for  a 
while  under  the  ritualistic  burdens  of  the  systems 
in  vogue  at  Nara  and  Kyoto,  to  reappear  in  the 
simpler  Jodo  systems  of  Honen  and  Shinran. 

But  the  '  rice-field-dances  '  developed  in  another 
direction.  By  the  side  of  the  solemn  and  sedate 
dengaku,  with  its  religious  tone,  there  arose  the 
sangaku,  or  '  Chinese  dance,'  full  of  humour  and 
comedy,  and  hence  changed  in  popular  parlance 
to  sarugaku,  or  '  monkey-dance,'  which  presently 
became  the    most    popular    of    all   the   forms  of 


DJRAMA  (Japanese) 


say 


dances,   and  eventually  developed  into  the   'no' 
par  excellence. 

The  word  no  presents  certain  difficulties.  Used  as  a  verb  it 
means  '  to  be  able/  '  to  have  the  power ' ;  as  a  noun  it  signifies 
'power,'  'faculty,'  'capacity,'  'talent.'  It  is  much  used  in 
Bud-dhist  philosophy,  though  this  fact  does  not  throw  much 
light  on  its  employment  as  a  designation  for  lyrical  dramas. 
Peri  (pp.  tit.  infra)  quotes  Motoori  (1730-1801)  as  suggesting  that 
the  character  is  a  contraction  for  waza,  a  term  frequently  used 
to  denote  '  actions,'  '  liturgies,'  '  dances.'  We  have  kami-waza, 
1  liturgies ' ;  mai-waza,  '  dances  ' ;  oko-waza. '  comic  spectacles ' ; 
and  Fujiwara  Akihara  (1020-10GS)  even  speaks  of  sarwjaku-no- 
waza.  There  is  much  to  be  said  for  this  theory,  but  it  still 
leaves  untouched  the  problem  a9  to  how  the  pronunciation 
waza  came  to  be  changed  to  no.  Can  it  be  that  there  lurks  in 
no  some  echo  of  the  Indian  word  nafa  ('  nautch  ')?  The  no  came 
into  vogue  in  Japan  at  a  time  when  Japan  had  close  intercourse 
with  China,  when  China  was  greatly  influenced  by  India ;  and 
there  is  much  in  the  nautch  that  reminds  one  of  the  no. 
Motoori's  theory,  that  no=waza,  is  strengthened  by  the  fact 
that  the  principal  actor  in  a  no  drama  is  called  shi-te  (lit. 

7TO<7flnjs). 

2.  The  '  no.' — Apart  from  the  philological  diffi- 
culty involved  in  the  name,  the  no  is  a  lyric  drama 
composed  mainly  of  two  factors — singing  and  pos- 
turing. Of  these,  posturing  is  the  more  ancient. 
We  have  seen  that  the  Japanese  assign  the  origin 
of  the  no,  as  of  the  temple-dance  itself,  to  that 
original  kagura  dance  which  was  performed  at  the 
cave  of  the  sun-goddess,  and  which  is  still  per- 
petuated in  the  kagura  dances  at  shrines  and 
temples.  The  tamai  was  also  mainly  a  dance, 
probably  not  unlike  the  country  dances  which  still 
survive  in  remote  country  districts,  wherever  the 
police  can  be  persuaded  to  shut  their  eyes,  in  con- 
nexion with  the  Feast  of  O-bon.  These  dances 
are  almost  invariably  accompanied  by  some  rude 
instrumental  music,  and  it  is  almost  inevitable 
that  singing  should  ensue  when  the  bodies  of  a 
company  of  men  and  women  are  set  in  harmonious 
motion  by  the  sound  of  some  simple  instrument. 
The  country  dances  of  all  peoples  are  accompanied 
with  song.  The  dialogues  connecting  the  various 
songs  and  dances  came  in  later,  but  so  subsidiary 
is  the  place  assigned  to  what  in  Europe  would  be 
considered  the  most  important  portion  of  the 
drama,  that  they  are  frequently  omitted  alto- 
gether from  the  utaibon,  or  printed  copies  of  the 
no  dramas.  The  place  where  the  dialogue  should 
come  in  is  indicated  by  the  simple  addition  at  the 
end  of  the  song  of  the  words  shika-jika,  '  and  so 
forth,'  or  serif u  ari,  '  there  are  words  spoken ' 
(Peri,  op.  cit.  263). 

When  the  no  appeared  in  its  perfected  condition 
during  the  Nambokucho  and  Muromachi  periods 
(1332-1603),  it  had  a  libretto,  or  book  of  words,  many 
of  which  have  come  down  to  us.  Over  a  thousand 
no  dramas  are  known  to  have  existed  :  they  were 
divided  into  two  classes — uchi,  the  inner  circle, 
the  plays  most  commonly  represented ;  and  soto, 
the  outer  ring  of  less  familiar,  because  less  popu- 
lar, plays.  Common  parlance  speaks  of  naigwai 
(=uchi  soto)  ni-hyaku  ban,  'the  200  pieces  inner 
and  outer,'  but  the  number  extant  is  a  little  in 
excess  of  that.  There  are  about  250  which  are 
now  actually  current  (for  their  names  see  Peri). 
A  new  no  play  occasionally  finds  its  way  to  the 
stage  even  now,  but  rarely  with  great  success. 

The  no  are  classified  according  to  their  subjects, 
as  follows :  (1)  Kami  no,  or  shinji  no,  dramas 
which  concern  the  gods  or  things  divine,  i.e. 
mythological  pieces  or  pieces  relating  to  the 
legends  connected  with  some  particular  god  or 
temple.  These  pieces  are  also  termed  waki  no, 
though  the  reason  for  this  term  is  not  quite  clear. 
(2)  Shugen  no,  or  '  dramas  of  good  wishes,'  written 
for  the  purpose  of  celebrating  heroes,  famous  men, 
emperors,  etc.  Some  dramas  evidently  are  capable 
of  being  treated  as  either  kami  no  or  shugen  no. 
This  class  includes  nearly  all  the  so-called  otoko 
mono,  or  shura  mono — pieces  relating  to  warriors, 
whom   Buddhism  relegated  to  the   path   of    the 


Shura  (or  Asuras)  as  a  punishment  lor  the  blood- 
shed connected  with  their  lives.  (3)  Yurei  no 
and  seirei  no,  dramas  connected  with  apparitions, 
ghosts,  spirits — the  former  class  referring  to  the 
spirits  of  warriors  or  women  ;  the  latter,  to  the 
manifestations  of  the  spirits  of  animals,  plants, 
flowers,  etc.  In  these  plays  (hence  called  jo  or 
onna  mono)  the  principal  actor,  or  shi-te,  is  always 
a  woman,  the  name  katsura  mono  being  also  given 
to  them  from  the  katsura  head-dress  worn  by  the 
female  character.  Many  of  the  plays  classified  as 
kami  no  or  genzai  no  may  be  put  down  as  onna- 
mono  as  well.  (4)  Genzai  no.  Whilst  all  the 
dramas  hitherto  considered  have  dealt  with  pro- 
blems of  another  world,  the  gods  great  and  small, 
the  spirits  and  souls  of  the  righteous  and  un- 
righteous, the  fourth  class  deals  with  problems, 
not  of  the  present  time,  but  of  the  present  world. 
It  represents  the  human  side  of  the  lyrical  drama, 
scenes  more  or  less  historical,  illustrations  of 
manners  and  customs,  etc. 

A  second  classification,  dating  apparently  from  theTokugawa 
period  (1 603-1868),  gives  a  fivefold  division— jui,  dan,  jo,  kyo,  ki, 
'  god,  man,  woman,  folly,  demon ' — the  fourth  practically  corre- 
sponding to  the  genzai  no  of  the  classification  just  given. 

3.  The  '  kyogen.' — The  writers  of  the  no  dramas 
were  all  either  Buddhist  monks  or  persons  impreg- 
nated with  the  spirit  of  Buddhism.  The  present 
world  is  to  Buddhism  nothing  but  '  folly,'  and  it 
is  easy  to  see  how  the  plays  of  the  genzai  no  came 
to  be  classed  as  kyo,  '  folly.'  But  the  present 
world  has  a  constant  tendency  to  assert  itself  even 
in  the  most  monastic  of  minds,  and  not  only  do 
we  find  the  kyo,  or  genzai  mono,  occupying  their 
own  position  among  the  legitimate  dramas  of  the 
no,  but  we  find  evolving  out  of  them  a  new  species 
of  theatrical  composition,  the  kyogen,  or  satirical 
farce,  which  came  to  form  a  pendant  to  the  lyrical 
drama,  just  as  a  satiric  drama  was  appended  to 
the  conclusion  of  a  Greek  trilogy. 

No  and  kyogen  are  acted  on  the  same  stage,  but 
never  by  the  same  actors.  In  the  no  the  actors 
wear  masks,  in  the  kyogen  they  wear  none  ;  the 
dances  are  the  same,  but  the  manner  of  execu- 
tion is  different.  In  the  no  everything  is  solemn, 
stately,  impressive  ;  in  the  kyogen  there  is  a  sound 
of  laughter,  mixed  with  an  undertone  of  sadness. 
In  the  no  we  have  the  Buddhist  clergy  preaching 
their  highest  doctrines  of  life,  and  setting  up  an 
ideal  which  shall  influence  society  ;  in  the  kyogen 
there  is  the  sense  of  the  ridiculous  and  the  sense 
of  sadness  which  both  alike  come  from  the  con- 
sciousness of  failure  to  attain  to  an  ideal.  If  the 
no  gives  us  the  high  ideals  of  life  as  dreamed  of  by 
the  recluse  priesthood  of  the  period,  the  kyogen 
gives  us  a  true  picture  of  the  degenerate  national 
life  of  the  Ashikaga  (or  Muromachi)  age.  It  would 
be  possible  to  re-construct  a  picture  of  the  social 
conditions  of  the  age  from  the  texts  of  the  extant 
kyogen.  Following  the  analysis  given  by  Florenz, 
we  should  see,  in  the.  sketches  made  by  these 
anonymous  satirists,  a  nobility  and  clergy  effemi- 
nate and  worldly,  and  meriting  the  disdain  of  the 
fighting  classes  whose  hand  was  uppermost  in  the 
alfairs  of  the  distracted  empire,  a  low  state  of 
social  morality,  much  poverty  and  distress,  no 
efficient  system  of  police,  and,  above  all,  a  general 
callousness  and  indifference  to  suffering  which 
acquiesced  in  the  ridiculing  of  the  blind,  the 
maimed,  and  the  suffering.  Read  in  connexion 
with  works  like  the  Tsurezure  gusa  and  the 
voluminous  correspondence  of  men  like  Nichiren, 
Bennyo,  and  others,  now  being  gradually  made 
accessible  to  Western  readers,  the  kyogen  texts 
are  invaluable  for  all  students  of  Japanese  life  and 
society  during  the  Middle  Ages. 

4.  The  'kabuki.' — The  no  and  kyogen  were 
nev%r  popular  performances.  They  were  com- 
posed for  the  amusement  of    certain    privileged 


890 


DRAMA  (Japanese) 


classes  in  the  capital  and  elsewhere ;  they  were 
patronized  by  Shoguns  and  courtiers  ;  and,  when 
the  kyoaen  had  lost  their  sting  by  reason  of  the 
pax  Tokugawica  introduced  by  Iyeyasu  (1603-32), 
almost  every  daimyo  of  any  importance  or  wealth 
kept  his  own  troupe  of  actors  at  his  little  court. 
But  for  the  common  people,  the  merchant,  the 
farmer,  and  the  artisan,  the  lyrical  dramas  were 
never  intended. 

About  the  year  1569  there  appeared  in  Kyoto  a 
woman  named  Izumo  no  0  Kuni,  whose  genius 
produced  a  remarkable  revolution  in  the  dramatic 
world  of  her  country.  O  Kuni  was  the  daughter 
of  an  Izumo  blacksmith,  and,  being  a  girl  of 
prepossessing  appearance,  was  early  engaged  as 
a  miko,  or  kagura-d&ncer,  at  a  temple  in  the 
village  of  Kitsuki.  The  temple  was  destroyed 
by  fire,  and  O  Kuni  started  on  a  quest  for  money 
to  rebuild  it.  It  is  probable  that  she  went  first  to 
Sado,  where  gold  had  recently  been  discovered, 
and  where  money  was  readily  spent.  Soon  after- 
wards, in  1569,  she  made  her  appearance  at  Kyoto, 
where  she  set  up  a  booth  (or  shibai)  in  the  dry  bed 
of  the  Kamogawa,  and  began  giving  performances 
which  speedily  became  very  popular.  She  was 
dressed  in  the  black  robe  of  a  priest  of  the 
Shinshu  sect  of  Buddhists,  and  her  dancing  was 
of  the  style  known  as  yaya-odori,  or  nembutsu- 
odori,  the  pantomimic  sacred  dance  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  Kuya  Shonin  and  others  used  in  their 
itinerating  preachings  through  the  country.  She 
accompanied  her  dancing  by  rude  songs  on  the 
impermanency  of  this  transient  world.  Her  per- 
formances attracted  much  attention,  and  her  quest 
for  the  temple  was  soon  accomplished.  In  the 
meantime  she  had  discovered  her  vocation.  To 
this  she  was  helped  by  a  certain  Nagoya  Sanza- 
buro,  the  son  of  a  samurai  in  Owari,  who  had 
been  educated  by  monks  at  Odawara,  and  adopted 
later  by  Gamo,  lord  of  Aidzu,  one  of  the  political 
supporters  of  the  Taiko  Hideyoshi.  Nagoya  was 
a  handsome  and  brave  man,  with  a  great  reputa- 
tion as  a  lady-killer.  It  was  said  that  the  fair 
Yodogimi  was  one  of  his  conquests,  and  that 
Hideyoshi's  reputed  son,  Hideyori,  was  in  reality 
his.  Gamo  died  in  1595,  and  Nagoya,  now  a 
ronin,  or  masterless  knight,  came  presently  to 
Kyoto,  where  he  became  attached  to  O  Kuni, 
who  was  some  fifteen  years  his  senior.  Under  his 
influence,  she  changed  her  methods.  She  dis- 
carded her  priest's  robe  for  the  dress  of  a  two- 
sworded  samurai,  sang  popular  ditties  instead  of 
nembutsu  hymns,  and  began  to  act  on  themes  of  a 
purely  secular  nature.  Her  popularity  increased 
still  more.  Nobunaga,  Hideyoshi,  and  Hideyoshi's 
son,  Hideyasu,  invited  her  to  act  in  their  presence, 
and  there  is  an  old  print  in  the  Museum  at  Uyeno, 
which  represents  her  performing  before  a  crowded 
house  in  which  several  Europeans  are  to  be  seen. 
This  touch  of  the  West  in  contact  with  the  East 
is  not  without  its  significance.  Every  resident 
in  Japan  knows  how  marvellously  quick  the 
Japanese  are  to  adopt  the  latest  ideas  from  foreign 
countries,  and  it  is  quite  possible  that  the  modern- 
ized drama  which  was  thus  instituted  by  O  Kuni 
and  Nagoya  contained  elements  derived  from  the 
European  drama.  Shakespeare  was  in  the  zenith 
of  his  power  when  O  Kuni  was  acting,  and  there 
were  but  few  Englishmen  in  Japan  who  could 
have  told  the  Japanese  of  him.  Corneille  was  not 
yet  born  ;  but  the  Spanish  drama  had  been  at  its 
topmost  point  of  fame  for  many  years,  and  there 
were  many  Spaniards,  clerical  and  other,  in  the 
Imperial  city.  It  is  possible  that  the  Europeans 
represented  in  the  old  print  in  the  Tokyo  Museum 
are  Spaniards. 

The  popular  name  for  these  representations  was 
shibai,  a  name  still  in  universal  use  to  denote  a 


theatre,  the  secular  drama,  or  a  secular  play.  The 
name  chosen  for  it  by  its  founders  was  kabuki,  a 
word  originally  signifying  comedy  and  licence, 
but  in  later  days  ennobled  so  as  to  denote  '  the 
art  of  singing  and  dancing.'  Tokyo  still  boasts 
of  a  kabuki-cho,  or  street  devoted  to  this  sort  of 
drama,  and  of  a  kabuki-za  theatre,  which  has. 
hitherto  attracted  to  itself  some  of  the  greatest 
names  of  the  Japanese  theatrical  world. 

The  year  1604  marks  the  height  of  O  Kuni'a 
personal  popularity.  About  that  year,  Nagoya, 
who  had  returned  to  his  samurai  life,  was  killed 
in  a  brawl,  and  0  Kuni,  who  was  getting  on  in 
years,  retired  to  a  nunnery  in  her  native  place, 
where  she  died  in  obscurity,  nine  years  later. 

5.  The  'onna-kabuki.' — Imitation  is  always  one 
of  the  greatest  tests  of  popularity.  Before  O  Kuni 
retired  from  the  histrionic  life,  her  theatres  had 
already  found  imitators  in  various  cities,  notably 
at  Osaka  and  Yedo,  and  the  movement  showed 
signs  of  permanent  vigour.  But  the  onna-kabuki, 
as  it  was  called,  fell  into  disgrace  with  the  Shogun- 
ate,  and  its  prominent  feature  was  prohibited  by 
the  police  of  Iyeyasu  in  1629.  One  of  the  chief 
novelties  of  O  Kuni's  representations  had  been  her 
bold  assumption  of  male  attire.  But  when  she  fell 
in  with  Nagoya  she  was  no  longer  a  young  woman, 
and  it  does  not  seem  that  there  %vere  other  women 
directly  associated  with  her  in  the  enterprise.  What 
was  probably  harmless  in  her  case  became  a  prece- 
dent of  doubtful  character  in  the  hands  of  others. 
Women  of  uncertain  reputation  were  brought  on 
the  stage  in  the  rival  kabuki  theatres  ;  with  them 
were  associated  men  of  low  life,  and  the  result 
seemed  very  dangerous  to  the  public  morals.  The 
employment  of  women  in  kabuki  plays  was  there- 
fore prohibited  by  the  Shoguns'  police.  No  woman 
was  employed  as  an  actress  in  a  theatre  from  the 
year  1629  until  the  debut,  in  the  so-called  soshi- 
shibai,  of  Sada  Yakko,  at  the  end  of  the  19th 
century. 

6.  The  'ningyo-shibai.' — The  prohibition  of 
women  actors  was,  for  the  time  being,  an  almost 
crushing  blow  to  the  kabuki.  The  place  of  the 
women,  banished  by  the  decree  of  1629,  was  taken 
by  young  boys,  who  played  the  women's  parts  ;  but 
the  moral  consequences  of  the  so-called  wakashu- 
shibai  were  worse  than  those  of  the  onna-shibai 
had  been.  Besides,  the  boy-actors  had  not  yet 
been  trained,  and  some  time  had  perforce  to  elapse 
before  the  kabuki  could  regain  its  former  popu- 
larity. In  the  meantime  a  new  species  of  dramatic 
performance  got  an  innings,  which  its  promoters 
used  to  great  advantage.  The  visitor  to  Japan 
will  still  sometimes  meet  with  a  travelling  mendi- 
cant, carrying  on  his  back  a  portable  shrine  con- 
taining some  religious  image  or  symbol  which  is 
the  pilgrim's  object  of  devotion.  It  is  probable 
that  in  these  mendicant  vagrants  we  have  a  relic 
of  the  ancient  odori-nembutsu,  and  that  the  itiner- 
ant preachers  carried  with  them  an  idol,  before 
which  they  performed  their  simple  religious  dances, 
and  which  they  used  as  a  visible  emblem  of  the 
faith  they  preached.  O  Kuni  had  discarded  the 
emblems,  whilst  retaining  for  a  while  the  religious 
dance  and  song;  but  there  were  (and  still  are) 
travelling  priests  who  retained  them.  The  found- 
ers of  the  ningyo-shibai,  or  'dolls'  theatre,'  made 
these  dolls  or  images  the  central  feature  of  their 
art.  The  itineration  ceased,  and  the  idol,  settled 
in  a  permanent  abode,  developed  into  a  marionette, 
or  set  of  movable  dolls.  The  marionettes  of  the 
ningyo-shibai  were  extremely  popular  during  the 
whole  period  of  the  Tokugawa  government,  and 
performances  of  this  sort  are  still  to  be  met  with, 
especially  in  Osaka.  Strange  to  say,  the  marion- 
ettes had  a  considerable  influence  on  the  subsequent 
developments  of  the  kabuki. 


DRAMA  (Japanese) 


881 


'  Among;  the  things,'  says  Balet,  in  a  lecture  delivered  before 
the  Alliance  Franoaise  at  Yokohama,  Feb.  1911,  '  which  strike 
and  shock  us  most  in  the  popular  theatre  must  be  placed  the 
singular  gesticulation  of  the  actors.  Stiff,  and  moving  by 
brusque  starts,  their  gestures  completely  lack  the  ease  and 
naturalness  of  real  life  ;  one  would  say  they  were  marionettes, 
and  not  without  good  reason  ;  for  the  actors  of  the  kabitki  took 
the  marionettes  of  the  booths  in  the  fairs  as  their  models.  By 
an  incomprehensible  aberration,  the  Japanese  have  imitated 
these  gestures,  have  elaborated  them,  and  have  fixed  them 
permanently  in  the  drama — except  in  comedy, — thus  keeping 
aloof  from  the  true  imitation  of  life,  falsifying  the  expression  of 
even  the  simplest  sentiments,  to  the  point  of  making  them  a 
pure  pantomime.  From  the  theatre,  these  gestures  passed 
insensibly  into  daily  life.  It  is  not  difficult  to  find  traces  of 
them  in  the  current  expression  of  certain  emotions ;  anger, 
scorn,  especially  defiance,  are  often  expressed  among  the 
Japanese  in  the  manner  of  the  actors  of  the  kabuki.  Apart 
from  this  influence  of  gestures,  the  other — that  of  the  manners 
and  morals  preached  up  ad  nauseam  in  bloodthirsty  tragedies 
— has  not  been  the  least  effective  in  the  formation  of  the 
Japanese  mentality.'  It  is  not  necessary  to  follow  Balet  in  all 
his  conclusions  and  inferences.  The  main  thing  is  to  note  the 
effect  of  the  marionette  theatres  on  the  gestures  of  the  kabuki 
actors. 

7.  The  'joruri.' — Japan,  like  every  Oriental 
country,  has  always  had  its  story-tellers  and 
wandering  minstrels,  whose  repertoire  included 
stories  and  legends  of  gods,  heroes,  and  person- 
ages famous  in  national  history,  such  as  Benkei, 
the  fighting  monk.  One  of  the  most  popular  of 
these  stories  was  the  history  of  Joruri,  the  famous 
mistress  of  Yoshitsune — a  story  belonging  to  the 
same  cycle  of  epos  as  Benkei  (see  Saito  Musashi-bo 
Benkei,  by  de  Benneville,  Yokohama,  1910).  The 
story  of  the  loves  of  this  celebrated  woman  was  so 
popular  that  it  overshadowed  all  the  rest  and  gave 
its  name  to  the  whole  class  of  minstrel  narrative, 
so  that  a  joruri  came  to  be  the  generic  name  for 
this  class  of  recitals.  The  joruri  stories  were 
originally  unwritten,  handed  down  from  minstrel 
to  minstrel  in  substance  but  not  in  letter.  Ota 
Nobunaga,  the  rival  of  Hideyoshi,  and  a  man  of 
considerable  literary  judgment,  is  said  to  have 
suggested  that  it  would  be  an  improvement  to 
the  joruri  to  have  an  established  written  text, 
and  his  mistress,  Ono  no  O  Tsu,  is  said  to  have 
been  the  first  person  to  commit  a  joruri  to  writing. 
A  few  years  later,  about  A.  D.  1600,  a  joruri  singer, 
Menukiya  Chozaburo,  conceived  the  idea  of  a  part- 
nership with  the  master  of  a  marionette  show  near 
Osaka,  and  the  result  was  a  form  of  ningyo-shibai, 
which  soon  gained  the  popular  favour.  In  1685, 
a  certain  Takeinoto  Gidayu  opened  a  marionette 
theatre,  bearing  his  own  name,  in  Osaka,  and  the 
joruri  came  to  be  equally  well  known  under  the 
new  name  of  gidayu. 

8.  The  Genroku  theatre. — The  influence  of  the 
marionette  show  on  the  legitimate  drama  is  seen  in 
the  fact  that  some  of  the  greatest  dramaturgists 
of  Japan  under  the  Tokugawas,  notably  Chika- 
matsu  and  Takeda  (middle  of  18th  cent.),  were 
also  writers  of  gidayu.  From  the  marionette 
theatre  they  had  iearned  the  value  of  the  literary 
side  of  the  drama.  They  appreciated  the  fact  that 
it  was  something  more  than  a  mere  collection  of 
lyric  songs  loosely  strung  together  by  words  which 
were  scarcely  worth  recording,  more  than  a  mere 
exhibition  of  gestures  and  movements  such  as  could 
be  done  by  marionettes  quite  as  well  as  by  living- 
men — above  all,  that  it  was  more  than  the  diversion 
of  the  passing  hour  by  realistic,  but  motiveless, 
imitations  of  scenes  of  real  life.  Chikamatsu  Mon- 
zaemon  (1653-1724)  stands  a  very  long  way  behind 
Shakespeare,  but  he  understood,  as  Shakespeare 
and  his  contemporaries  had  done,  the  vocation  of 
the  dramatic  poet.  He  aimed  at,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  succeeded  in,  putting  the  dramatic  poet  into 
his  proper  place  as  the  creator  of  a  drama  with 
ideals,  representing  life,  and  forming  manners. 
The  mediaeval  no  had  been  the  sole  property  of 
the  ruling  military  and  cultured  classes  ;  O  Kuni's 
work  had  been  an  appeal  to  the  vulgar ;   Chika- 


matsu and  his  school,  without  excluding  the  edu- 
cated or  despising  the  ignorant  classes,  made  their 
appeal  to  the  great  common-sense  bourgeoisie,  which 
forms  the  mainstay  of  every  nation.  That  their 
appeal  was  not  made  in  vain,  may  be  seen  in  the 
immense  influence  exercised  by  Takeda'a  Chushin- 
gura  in  keeping  alive  in  the  people's  heart  the  spirit 
of  loyalty  to  the  Imperial  throne. 

9.  Difficulties  besetting  the  'kabuki.' — One  of 
the  great  difficulties  in  the  way  of  realizing  the 
highest  dramatic  ideals  lay,  and  still  lies,  in  the 
despised  position  of  the  actors.  The  kabuki  has 
never  quite  effaced  the  bar  sinister  in  its  escutcheon. 
Its  founders,  O  Kuni  and  Nagoya,  were  deemed 
none  too  respectable ;  the  onna-kabuki  were  per- 
formed mostly  by  prostitutes ;  the  lads  who  acted 
in  the  wakashu-kabuki  were  connected  with  vices 
which  flourished  in  one  of  the  '  cities  of  the  plain.' 
There  was  reason  in  abundance  for  the  Tokugawa 
government  to  take  alarm  :  there  was  not  merely 
the  love  of  pleasure  and  the  increase  of  luxury 
among  the  people  to  be  feared,  but  also  the  danger 
to  the  social  order,  and  the  confusion  of  classes  and 
castes.  The  Shogunal  government  did  not  weaken 
in  the  carrying  out  of  what  it  conceived  to  be  its 
duty.  In  1609,  Iyeyasu  prohibited  all  theatres  in 
Shidzuoka,  which  was  at  that  time  his  residence  ; 
in  1610  certain  court  ladies  at  Kyoto  were  sent  into 
exile  for  going  to  a  theatre,  the  manager  of  the 
theatre  being  executed.  In  1629  every  perform- 
ance in  which  women  appeared  was  forbidden.  In 
1641  a  manager  who  had  allowed  his  '  young  men  ' 
to  appear  as  women  on  the  stage  was  severely 
punished.  A  few  years  later,  under  strict  regula- 
tions, a  few  actors  were  allowed  to  appear  in  female 
characters,  but  they  were  forbidden  to  wear  silk 
or  brocades,  and  had  to  shave  the  front  of  their 
head.  Theatres,  like  brothels,  were  relegated  to 
certain  quarters,  samurai  were  forbidden  to  attend 
them,  and  the  actors  were  not  allowed  to  associate 
with  the  ordinary  citizens.  They  were  classed 
apart,  like  the  eta,  and  the  numeral  substantive 
used  for  them  classed  them  with  animals  rather 
than  with  men,  as  though  one  should  say,  '  so  many 
head  of  cattle,'  '  so  many  head  of  actors.'  The 
term  kawara-mono  refers  to  the  origin  of  the 
kabuki  amongst  the  heap  of  broken  '  tiles '  and 
rubbish  in  the  dry  river-bed  of  the  Kamogawa. 
Under  such  circumstances  it  was  extremely  difficult 
for  the  kabuki  drama  to  struggle  into  respecta- 
bility. 

10.  Earliest  written  'kabuki.' — We  have  already 
seen  that  the  writing  of  joruri  influenced  the  pro- 
duction of  regular  dramas.  It  is  worthy  of  notice 
that,  in  1655,  a  theatre  in  Yedo  produced  a  con- 
secutive drama  of  several  acts,  entitled  Soga  no 
Juban  Kiri,  which  required  15  actors.  Another 
play,  in  1666,  also  produced  in  Tokyo,  was  written 
by  Kawara  Jonnosuke,  and  was  entitled  Soga  no 
kyogen.  One  may  see  from  the  titles  of  these 
plays  how  strong  was '  the  appeal  made  to  the 
national  imagination  by  the  stirring  events  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  which  have  furnished  Japan  with  a 
genuine,  if  informal,  epic  poem. 

11.  Actor  families. — One  of  the  results  of  the 
Tokugawa  legislation,  which  compelled  the  actors 
to  live  by  themselves,  apart  from  their  fellow- 
citizens,  was  the  formation  of  an  actor  class.  This 
was  quite  in  accordance  with  ancient  Japanese  tra- 
dition. Japan  has,  from  the  earliest  times,  had 
castes  of  doctors,  wrestlers,  sword-makers,  painters, 
etc.,  and  the  result  of  the  system  may  be  seen  in 
the  specialized  skill  of  production  combined  with 
a  marvellous  lack  of  creative  power,  which  marks 
almost  all  Japanese  work,  especially  in  the  various 
departments  of  art.  In  the  Japanese  drama,  we 
observe  the  rise  of  great  actor  families,  e.g.  that  of 
Ichikawa  Danjuro,  which  has,  as  it  were,  stereo- 


892 


DRAMA  (Japanese) 


typed  the  dramatic  art  along  certain  definite  lines, 
and  thereby  produced  an  article  perfect  in  its  own 
way,  but  which  has  stifled  originality  and  well- 
nigh  killed  the  art  of  the  playwright.  Judged  by 
its  own  standards,  the  Japanese  kabuki,  with  its 
posturings  and  intonations  reminiscent  of  the  reci- 
tatives of  the  no  and  the  joruri,  its  stilted  language, 
and  its  simple  dignity,  is  a  thing  as  perfect  as  an 
art  influenced  by  very  imperfect  ideals  can  make 
it.  But  what  playwright  could  do  his  best,  if  he 
were  'bossed'  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  his 
composition  by  a  clique  of  hereditary  actors,  who 
said  that  things  had  always  been  just  so  in  their 
family  ? 

12.  The  Meiji  theatre. — Like  everything  else  in 
Japan,  the  drama  stagnated  from  about  the  end  of 
the  second  decade  of  the  18th  cent,  to  the  end  of 
the  seventh  decade  of  the  19th.  The  actors  were 
a  class  of  social  outcasts,  but  they  had  the  supreme 
sway  in  their  own  little  kingdom,  where  things 
went  leisurely  along  the  old  grooves.  The  Meiji 
Restoration  swept  away  all  class  distinctions,  and 
the  actors  emerged  from  their  isolation.  In  1876, 
at  the  opening  of  the  Shintomiza  theatre  in  Tokyo, 
the  Foreign  Ministers  and  members  of  the  corps 
diplomatique  accepted  invitations  to  be  present  at 
the  opening  performance.  It  was  a  great  shock  to 
Japanese  conservatism,  but  it  proved  to  be  a  whole- 
some example ;  in  1886,  Count  lnoue  ventured  to 
give  a  performance  at  his  own  residence,  at  which 
lehikawa  Danjuro  acted,  in  the  presence  of  the 
Emperor  himself.  The  visits  of  distinguished  per- 
sonages, e.g.  Prince  Arthur  of  Connaught,  gave 
opportunities  for  official  recognition  of  the  dra- 
matic profession  ;  and,  in  1903,  Prince  Ito  delivered 
a  funeral  oration  in  honour  of  the  popular  Danjuro. 
The  old  ostracism  has  not  yet  quite  gone  ;  a  statue 
of  Danjuro,  erected  a  few  years  ago  in  front  of  the 
Kabukiza  theatre,  had  to  be  removed ;  but  it  is 
abundantly  evident  that  the  actors  are  winning  for 
themselves  a  recognized  position  in  the  Japanese 
world. 

13.  The  'soshi-shibai.' — One  of  the  most  hopeful 
signs  connected  with  the  modern  Japanese  stage  is 
that  the  monopoly  of  the  great  actor  families  has 
been  broken.  The  soshi-shibai,  born  some  25  years 
ago,  presents  many  points  of  resemblance  to  the 
earlier  enterprise  of  O  Kuni  and  Nagoya,  coming 
into  the  world,  as  did  its  predecessor,  at  a  time 
when  '  a  fever  of  reform  and  innovation'  was  raging 
throughout  Japan.  Kawakami  Otojiro,  the  flighty 
son  of  a  toy-dealer,  had  an  undistinguished  course 
at  school  at  Fukuoka,  and  then  flung  himself  into 

Solitical  stump-oratory,  after  the  fashion  of  young 
apan  in  the  early  days  of  Meiji.  He  had  many 
fellow-travellers  along  the  paths  of  stump-oratory  ; 
the  Japanese  of  the  day  invented  a  word  to  denote 
these  political  adventurers.  They  were  known  as 
soshi ;  they  were  oftener  than  not  impecunious. 
Kawakami  and  a  few  hrother-soshi  formed  them- 
selves into  a  sort  of  amateur  dramatic  company, 
and  their  plays  were  called  soshi-shibai.  They  gave 
representations  of  actual  life,  and  gained  many 
hearers.  Their  first  object  was  to  make  money, 
but  success  gave  them  higher  ambitions.  They 
declared  war  against  the  kabuki  school,  and  an- 
nounced a  programme  of  theatrical  reform.  In 
this  they  have  not  succeeded.  Kawakami  has 
been  ably  seconded  by  his  wife,  Madame  Sada 
Yakko,  and  the  Kawakami  troupe  has  been  well 
received  in  Europe  and  America.  They  draw  their 
material  from  many  quarters :  from  Dumas  and 
Maeterlinck,  from  Shakespeare  and  Ibsen.  But 
they  have  presented  crude,  ill-adapted  matter, 
strongly  impregnated  with  a  Western  flavour,  to 
an  audience  that  can  only  relish  the  sauces  of 
Japan,  and  they  have  not  yet  succeeded  in  captur- 
ing the  popular  taste.     The  dramatist  is  lacking 


who  can  draw,  as  did  Shakespeare,  on  all  the 
wealth  of  accessible  literature,  and  yet  present  it 
to  his  audience  in  a  thoroughly  native  form.  The 
lack  of  a  dramatist  has  been  acknowledged  in 
many  quarters.  Writers  like  Fukuchi,  Tsubouchi, 
Ihara,  and  Masuda  have  tried  to  supply  the  vacancy. 
They  are  undoubtedly  on  the  right  track ;  but  a 
Shakespeare  is  born,  not  made,  and  Japan  may 
perhaps  still  be  said  to  be  waiting  for  the  '  mother 
of  Shakespeare.' 

Efforts  have  also  recently  been  made  to  conform 
the  architecture  of  Japanese  theatres  to  European 
ideas  and  requirements,  This  is  notably  the  case 
in  Tokyo  with  the  Yurakuza  (built  1909)  and  the 
Teikokuza  (opened  27th  Feb.  1911).  It  is  impos- 
sible as  yet  to  say  what  effect  these  buildings  are 
likely  to  have  on  Japanese  dramatic  developments. 
A  recently  established  training  school  for  young 
actors  and  actresses  will,  if  successful,  be  a  step  in 
the  right  direction,  as  eliminating  the  hereditary 
principle  which  has  done  so  much  in  the  way  of 
fossilization.  It  also  provides  a  way  by  which  a 
young  woman  of  respectable  family  can  adopt  the 
stage  as  a  profession  in  an  honourable  manner 
without  the  loss  of  caste. 

14.  Actors  in  the  'no.' — The  no  is  essentially  a 
piece  to  be  acted  by  two  players,  and  this  funda- 
mental idea  is  maintained,  however  great  may  be 
the  number  of  players  actually  employed  in  the 
performance  of  any  particular  piece.  The  -  prin- 
cipal personage  is  the  shi-te,  the  ironp-i)s,  or  actor. 
His  duty  is  both  to  dance  and  to  sing,  and  his  r6le 
is  the  pivot  on  which  the  whole  piece  turns.  We 
may  call  him  the  protagonist.  By  his  side  is  the 
waki  ( '  side '),  who  may  be  compared  with  the  deuter- 
agonist  of  the  Greek  classical  stage.  As  the  name 
implies,  his  r61e  is  secondary  to  that  of  the  shi-te  ; 
but  he  is  nevertheless  a  necessary  adjunct,  because  it 
is  his  presence  on  the  stage  that  gives  the  requisite 
stimulus  to  the  activities  of  the  shi-te. 

Some  plays  require  the  presence  of  only  two 
actors  ;  and  we  may  with  justice  consider  them  as 
types  of  the  primitive  drama.  When  more  actors 
are  required,  they  are  considered  as  assistants  or 
companions  to  the  shi-te  or  waki.  They  are  desig- 
nated as  tomo,  '  companions,'  but  more  frequently 
as  tsure,  and  appear  as  shi-te-dzure  or  waki-dzurc, 
according  to  the  part  they  represent.  But  they 
can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  an  independent  per- 
sonality :  '  ce  sont  deux  voix  qui  se  repondent,  et 
non  deux  personnages  qui  se  parlent'  (Peri).  In 
some  pieces  there  appears  another  actor,  known 
as  the  kogata,  or  '  child,'  whose  r6le  is  occasion- 
ally of  some  importance,  as  when,  e.g.,  he  repre- 
sents an  emperor  or  nobleman  ;  and  in  a  few  places 
we  find  indefinitely  designated  personages,  otoko 
and  onna,  'man'  and  'woman.'  Again,  in  one  or 
two  plays  we  have  companies  of  people  representing, 
e.g.,  pleasure-seekers,  or  attendants.  These  are 
known  as  tachi-shu.  The  clown's  part  is  assigned 
to  a  personage  known  as  kyogen  or  okashi.  He  is 
sometimes  entrusted  with  comic  parts  during  the 
play  itself,  but  more  frequently  with  the  comic 
interlude,  ai,  which  separates  the  first  act  of  a  no 
drama  from  the  second.  This  ai  no  kyogen  is  not 
to  be  confounded  with  the  independent  kyogen 
which  comes  between  two  distinct  no  dramas.  He 
had  his  part  in  these  also.' 

15.  The  chorus. — The  chorus,  ji  or  ji-utai,  con- 
sists of  from  8  to  10  musicians,  under  the  command 
of  a  ji-gashira.  The  musicians  wear  the  ordinary 
clothes  of  the  citizen,  and  have  no  functions  beyond 
those  of  music  and  singing.  The  chorus  sometimes 
takes  part  in  the  no  drama  by  acting  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  a  shi-te  in  the  rendering  of  some  song, 
and  sometimes  it  will  take  part,  in  a  sort  of  im- 
personal way,  in  the  dialogue.  It  has  some  of  the 
functions  of  a  Greek  chorus,  but  it  never  represents 


DRAMA  (Japanese) 


893 


a    definite  group   of   persons,   such  as,   e.g. ,    the 
Phoenician  women. 

In  addition  to  the  actors  and  chorus,  there  are 
two  persons  whose  functions  are  of  the  greatest 
importance  in  the  performance  of  the  no — the 
koken  and  the  mono-kise.  The  former,  in  plain 
clothes,  has  the  duty  of  looking  generally  after  the 
performance,  bringing  in  swords,  fans,  etc.,  as 
required,  and  removing  them  unostentatiously 
when  no  longer  needed.  The  mono-kise  has  the 
superintendence  of  the  wardrobe,  and  assists  the 
actors  in  their  changes  of  costume,  etc. 

16.  The  orchestra. — This  is  composed  of  three, 
sometimes  four,  instruments.  These  are :  (l)fue, 
(2)  ko-tsutsumi,  (3)  6-tsutsumi,  (4)  taiko.  Tbe  first 
is  a  flute  ;  the  second  and  third  are  a  small  and  a 
large  drum,  struck  with  the  hand,  the  former 
carried  on  the  right  shoulder,  the  latter  on  the  left 
knee.  The  fourth,  which  is  a  species  of  tam- 
bourine, is  used  only  when  something  awe-inspiring 
is  going  on,  such  as  the  appearance  of  a  demon  or 
spirit,  or  the  '  lion-dance.  The  general  name  for 
the  musicians  is  hayashi-kata,  each  individual 
being  designated  by  his  instrument — fue-kata, 
taiko-kata,  etc.  It  is  extremely  probable  that  a 
comparison  of  these  instruments  with  the  musical 
instruments  in  use  in  ancient  China,  India,  etc., 
might  throw  much  light  on  the  origin  of  the  no 
dramas. 

17.  Schools  of  'no'  actors. — We  have  seen  that 
the  no  actors  are  divided  into  three  classes — shi-te, 
waki,  and  kydgen.  These  are  further  subdivided 
into  various  schools,  or  ryu.  The  most  important 
are  the  schools  of  the  shi-te — kwanze,  hosho,  kom- 
paru,  kongo,  and  kita — which  between  them  furnish 
most  of  the  shi-te  and  shi-te-dzure,  also  the  tomo, 
kogata,  ji,  koken,  and  mono-kise.  These  five 
'schools'  are  by  far  the  most  important.  The 
waki  are  also  subdivided  into  five  schools — 
harufuii,  fukuo,  shindo,  takayasu,  and  hosho. 
There  is  a  further  distinction  made  in  these  two 
classes,  which  is  of  some  importance.  They  are 
divided  into  kami-gakari,  and  shimo-gakari,  ac- 
cording as  they  base  their  acting  on  traditions 
derived  from  Kyoto  (kami)  or  Nara  (shimo).  We 
shall  see  the  importance  of  this  distinction  if  we 
remember  that  the  Kyoto  Buddhism,  mainly 
that  of  the  Tendai  sect,  with  its  offshoots,  is  of 
Chinese  origin,  whilst  the  Nara  Buddhism  was 
predominantly  Hindu.  The  kyogen  actors  are 
subdivided  into  three  classes,  each  named  after  its 
founder — Sagi,  Izumi,  Okura — as  indeed  are  also 
the  various  classes  of  the  shi-te  and  waki.  All 
these  families  of  no  actors  were  originally  con- 
nected with  the  kagura  dances  of  the  Shinto  and 
Ryobu-Shinto  rites,  and  it  is  in  the  kagura  that 
the  origin  of  the  no  drama  as  found  in  Japan  must 
be  sought. 

18.  The  '  no-kyogen '  stage.— The  no  was  origin- 
ally intended,  like  the  kagura,  for  outdoor  per- 
formance, and  this  fundamental  theory  is  still 
preserved  in  the  arrangement  of  the  stage.  It  is 
a  perfectly  simple  platform  about  six  yards  square, 
with  three  of  its  sides  open.  The  fourth  side  is  a 
wall  of  plain  wood  panel,  with  a  painting  of  an  old 
pine-tree  to  suggest  an  open-air  performance.  The 
actors  have  their  exits  and  entrances  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  stage,  the  chorus  on  the  left.  One  of 
the  pillars  supporting  the  roof  is  called  the  koken 
bashira,  and  it  is  from  behind  this  pillar  that  the 
koken  keeps  a  watchful  eye  on  the  performance. 
The  green  room  or  vestry  is  behind  the  wood- 
panelled  wall. 

19.  Sung  forms. — The  no  drama  is  a  metrical 
composition,  the  measure  adopted  being  known  as 
a  kusari,  or  '  chain,'  for  the  structure  of  which  the 
reader  is  referred  to  Peri's  solid  treatise  already 
quoted.     Terms  especially  noticeable  are,  e.g.,  the 


shidai,  very  often  used  as  an  introduction,  and 
containing  a  statement  of  the  general  purpose  and 
'  circumstances '  {shidai)  of  the  piece.  The  issei  is 
very  similar  to  it,  only  more  definite,  the  shidai 
giving,  as  it  were,  only  a  general  statement,  while 
the  issei  explains  some  particular  point.  The  uta, 
or  '  song,'  is  the  prerogative  of  the  waki  and  his 
assistants ;  it  has  nothing  in  common  with  the 
tanka  of  later  Japanese  literature.  To  take  an 
example  :  in  the  uta,  the  waki  and  his  friends  will 
describe  the  journey  they  have  taken  in  order  to 
reach  the  scene  of  action.  The  sashi  and  kuri  are 
two  minor  forms :  the  former  a  simple  recitative, 
which  is  not  used  by  the  kami-gakari  schools,  the 
latter  a  lively  song,  serving  as  an  introduction  to 
the  kuse.  The  kuse  may  be  looked  upon  as  the 
form  out  of  which  the  no  has  developed.  It  is 
accompanied  by  a  dance,  and  is  a  remnant  of  the 
ancient  kuse  dances  which  have  been  so  popular  in 
Japan  since  the  10th  century.  It  is  the  kuse  which 
brings  us  into  touch  with  the  itinerating  odori- 
nembutsu  preachers.  The  rongi,  or  '  discussion,' 
a  dialogue  chanted  by  shi-te  and  chorus,  is  another 
remnant  of  the  Buddhist  influence.  It  is  a  relic  of 
the  scholastic  discussions  of  the  Buddhist  monas- 
teries, especially  of  those  in  the  Kyoto  schools  of 
Buddhism.  In  the  waka,  which  follows  the  rongi, 
we  have,  it  is  said,  the  remnants  of  the  popular 
songs  chanted  by  the  shirabyoshi ;  and  the  gestures 
of  the  actors  at  this  point  are  generally  suggestive 
of  the  same  origin.  The  kiri  is  the  closing  song, 
and  is  often  closely  connected  with  the  waka. 

20.  Spoken  forms. — The  spoken  forms  are  the 
nanori,  or  'announcement  of  the  name,'  spoken  by 
the  actor  on  his  first  appearance,  or,  for  a  woman, 
by  the  chorus  ;  the  mondb,  or  dialogue  ;  the  yobi- 
kake,  or  words  addressed  to  a  person  supposed  to 
be  at  some  distance  from  the  speaker ;  and  the 
katari,  or  narration.  In  the  kyogen  we  have  also 
various  forms  of  ai,  'interludes.'  In  the  katari-ai 
the  kyogen  actor  gives  a  new  exposition,  sometimes 
with  considerable  variations,  of  the  plot  of  the 
drama.  The  tachi-ai,  while  ultimately  connected 
with  the  development  of  the  drama,  is  spoken  by 
outside  personages,  as,  for  instance,  by  a  deus  ex 
machina  in  the  form  of  a  god  or  spirit.  The 
ashirai-ai  is  an  interlude  in  which  a  servant, 
boatman,  etc.,  plays  a  principal  part. 

21.  Masks  used  in  the  '  no.' — There  are  about 
thirty  masks  in  common  use  for  no  representations 
— though  there  are,  of  course,  special  masks  for 
use  in  the  rarer  pieces.  The  particulars  of  these 
masks  are  given  in  Kamen-fu,  Nogaku  Unnoshii, 
and  Nogaku  Shozoku. 

The  introduction  of  masks  into  Japan  is  generally  attributed 
to  Shotoku  Taishi  (t621),  the  great  patron  of  Buddhism.  This 
is  another  indication  of  a  point  made  elsewhere  in  this  article, 
that  the  no  is  of  Indian  origin,  for  the  Buddhism  which  Shotoku 
favoured  was  notoriously  of  the  Indian  variety.  Other  famous 
mask-makers  of  primitive  times  are  Tankaiko,  Kobo  Daishi,  and 
Kasuga — all  well-known  carvers  of  Buddhist  images.  These 
were  succeeded  by  the  Jissaku,  or  ten  mask-makers,  of  the 
Heian  (800-1186)  and  Kamakura  (1186-1332)  ages,  and  these  by 
the  Rokusaku  and  Chusaku  schools,  who  bring  us  down  to  the 
end  of  the  Ashikaga  period.  We  then  come  to  the  well-known 
Kawachi,  who  at  one  time  worked  as  a  saddler  in  the  retinue 
of  the  great  Taiko  Hideyoshi  (1536-98).  Hideyoshi  was  a  great 
patron  of  the  lyrical  drama,  which  he  treated  with  almost  re- 
ligious respect.  One  day  Kawachi  peeped  from  behind  some 
curtains  at  his  master  robing  himself  for  a  dramatic  performance. 
Before  he  donned  his  mask,  Hideyoshi  held  it  over  his  head  and 
did  obeisance.  From  that  moment  Kawachi  determined  to 
abandon  the  calling  of  a  saddle-maker  and  devote  his  energies 
to  the  making  of  masks. 

22.  Fans. — The  fans  used  are  of  two  kinds — 
suyehiro  and  shimai-ogi.  The  former  seem  to 
correspond  with  the  role  of  the  actors.  Thus  we 
have  okina-ogi,  the  '  grown  man's  fan,'  with  a 
representation  of  waves  and  of  horai,  the  Elysium 
of  perpetual  felicity,  which,  like  the  classical 
Islands  of  the  Blest,  is  supposed  to  exist  in  the 
midst  of  the  Ocean.     Another,  the  so-called  shura- 


894 


DRAMA  (Japanese) 


ogi,  represents  the  world  of  the  Asuras,  the 
Buddhist  world  of  bloodshed  and  slaughter. 
Significantly  enough,  there  are  two  forms  of 
shura-ogi,  the  genji-shura  and  the  heike-shura, 
which  thus  perpetuate  the  memory  of  Japan's  most 
famous  period  of  internal  strife.  Other  memorials 
of  that  sad  time  may  be  found  in  the  kyojo-ogi 
and  kyojo-ironashi-ogi  (respectively,  the  '  insane 
woman's  fan,'  and  the  '  insane  woman's  colourless 
fan '),  the  latter  with  its  sad  pictures  of  the  heron 
amongst  the  snow,  and  the  ill-omened  crow  sitting 
on  a  withered  tree.  It  would  be  beyond  our  scope 
to  describe  all  these  varieties.  The  shimai-ogi 
does  not  present  so  many  varieties.  The  simplest 
form,  the  midzumaki-no-ogi,  '  water  -  sprinkler's 
fan,'  is  used  by  the  lowest  grade  of  actors,  whose 
humble  performances  are  fitly  symbolized  by  the 
unobtrusive  but  necessary  work  of  the  '  water- 
sprinkler  ' — an  important  functionary  in  hot  dusty 
countries.  When  the  actor-student  has  been  pro- 
moted to  a  higher  grade,  and  is  allowed  to  dance 
for  the  first  time,  he  uses  a  midzuhiki  fan,  i.e.  the 
fan  of  the  '  water-drawer ' ;  while  the  next  pro- 
motion, to  the  rank  which  permits  him  to  perform 
the  mochidzuki  dance,  is  marked  by  the  use  of  a  fan 
known  as  chidori.  Buddhist  influence,  chiefly  of 
the  Hosso  and  Kegon  schools,  may  be  seen  in  the 
clouds — five,  seven,  or  nine,  according  to  circum- 
stances— which  distinguish  other  fans  of  a  higher 
order.  But  the  gradation  of  actors,  dramas,  and 
dances  is  very  clearly  due  to  Chinese  thought. 

It  would  take  us  too  long,  for  the  purposes  of  this  article,  to 
trace  the  connecting  points  between  the  Japanese  lyric  drama 
and  the  drama  of  the  Hindus.  But  there  certainly  are  such 
points  of  connexion,  traceable  through  fans,  masks,  musical 
instruments,  dresses,  and  dress-materials,  not  only  with  India, 
but  with  the  Levant.  Thus,  for  instance,  there  are  two  names 
for  dress-materials  much  used  in  the  no— doiisu  and  shu-sv., 
translated  by  Erinkley  as  '  damask '  and  '  satin  ' — which  are 
said,  though  perhaps  not  with  much  probability,  to  point  to  a 
Damascene  and  Syrian  origin  for  these  materials.  But  these 
are  points  which  still  await  investigation. 

23.  Peculiarities  of  construction  of  the  '  kabuki ' 
theatre. — The  word  shibai  means  'a  lawn,'  or  '  on 
the  lawn.'  There  is  an  old  tradition,  connected 
with  the  Nan-yen-do  temple  at  Nara,  which  says 
that,  at  a  very  remote  period,  the  earth  opened 
with  a  yawning  cavity  right  in  front  of  the  temple, 
with  much  exhalation  of  poisonous  gases  and 
smoke.  It  being  evidently  advisable  to  propitiate 
the  incensed  deities  who  had  brought  about  this 
calamity,  the  Government  of  the  day  ordered  that 
the  okina  and  sanbaso  dances  should  be  performed 
in  front  of  the  chasm.  This  was  done  on  the 
smooth  grass  before  the  temple,  and  with  the 
desired  effect.  This  incident  is  still  commemorated 
by  the  Takigi-no-No  at  Nara,  which  is  always  per- 
formed 'on  the  lawn.'  It  is  possible,  therefore, 
that  O  Kuni,  in  inaugurating  the  shibai  or  kabuki 
drama,  meant  it  to  be  a  resurrection,  as  far  as 
possible  under  altered  circumstances,  of  the  primi- 
tive dances  of  pre-historic  times. 

The  first  theatre  in  Kyoto  was  erected  in  1632  ; 
in  Osaka,  in  1633  ;  in  Yedo,  in  1624 ;  and  the  con- 
struction of  these  places  of  amusement  was  speedily 
followed  by  others.  The  first  theatrical  building  in 
Yedo  was  the  Saruwakaza,  which  was  the  outcome 
of  the  philanthropic  efforts  of  a  certain  Saruwaka 
Kanzaburo.  The  Genna  period  (A.D.  1615-1643), 
whilst  enjoying  the  firm  hand  of  the  Tokugawa 
Shogunate,  was  still  one  of  considerable  con- 
fusion and  unrest.  The  cessation  of  the  long- 
continued  civil  wars  and  the  subsequent  dissolution 
of  many  of  the  opposition  clans  had  filled  the 
country  with  unemployed  men-at-arms  [ronin), 
who  flocked  to  the  larger  cities  in  search  of  em- 
ployment. Yedo  was  naturally  their  chief  place 
of  refuge,  and  in  the  crowded  quarters  of  Asakusa, 
Ryogoku,  and  Shiba,  they  might  be  seen  in  their 
hundreds,   concealing    their   faces  beneath   large 


straw  hats,  and  waiting  for  any  chance  opportunity 
of  congenial  occupation.  When  they  could  do 
nothing  else,  they  beat  drums  and  sang  ballads, 
and  thus  gained  a  few  rin  from  the  good-natured 
citizens.  Saruwaka  saw  that  these  unemployed 
fighting  men  constituted  a  real  danger  to  the  State, 
and  set  to  work  to  find  safe  outlets  for  their  super- 
fluous energies.  He  built  himself  a  large  villa,  the 
construction  of  which  gave  employment  to  many 
hands ;  he  lived  luxuriously  and  ostentatiously, 
and  kept  large  retinues  of  servants ;  at  last,  the 
idea  occurred  to  him  of  founding  a  theatre  as  an 
institution  by  which  many  of  these  unemployed 
warriors  might  gain  a  living,  and  all  might  find 
recreation  and  amusement.  The  idea  was  very  well 
received,  the  ronin  organized  themselves  eon  amore, 
the  Government  gave  its  consent  to  the  under- 
taking, and  a  dream  in  which  Saruwaka  saw  a 
crane  flying  towards  him,  with  the  leaf  of  an  icho 
(Ficus  religiosa)  on  a  plate  in  its  bill,  was  inter- 
preted as  an  omen  of  the  best  sort.  Saruwaka's 
theatre  was  the  first  permanent  kabuki  building  in 
Japan,  and  gave  a  model  which  all  subsequent 
kabuki  theatres  have  followed.  The  no  dramas  in 
the  Middle  Ages  were  performed  in  the  most  flimsy 
of  temporary  booths. 

The  construction  of  the  old  kabuki  theatres  may 
be  understood  by  the  consideration  of  certain  thea- 
trical words  which  are  still  in  use,  but  which 
cannot  be  made  clear  except  by  reference  to  old 
usages  and  peculiarities.  Thus  the  word  haneru, 
'  to  turn  aside,'  is,  in  theatrical  parlance,  '  to  finish 
a  performance.'  In  Saruwaka's  building,  the  en- 
trance was  protected  by  a  hanging  mat,  which  the 
spectators  had  to  push  aside  in  order  to  enter. 
When  the  performance  came  to  an  end,  the  mat 
was  '  turned  aside  '  to  facilitate  egress,  and  left  so. 
Similarly,  futa  wo  ake.ru,  '  to  open  the  lid,'  is  used 
of  the  opening  of  a  theatre — the  heavy,  lid-like 
shutters  all  round  the  building  being  tightly  closed 
when  there  was  no  drama  in  course  of  performance. 
The  quasi-military  character  of  the  actors  in  Saru- 
waka's theatre  showed  itself  in  the  yagura,  or 
castle-tower  (now  disused),  erected  on  the  roof  to 
give  the  building  something  of  the  appearance  of 
a  feudal  castle.  On  two  sides  of  the  yagura  were 
suspended  zai,  the  baton  used  by  a  Japanese 
general  in  the  direction  of  a  battle.  But  these 
theatrical  zai  were  known  as  bonten — the  name 
given  by  Buddhists  to  Brahma,  the  greatest  of  the 
guardian  deities — and  replaced  the  Shinto  gohei 
which  O  Kuni  had  used  in  her  temporary  erections. 
The  use  of  the  bonten  and  gohei  is  a  proof  of  the 
existence  of  a  certain  amount  of  religiosity,  but 
need  not  be  pressed  further. 

While  certain  of  the  minor  structural  features  of 
the  early  kabuki  have  disappeared,  certain  others 
remain.  Thus  the  modern  Japanese  stage  is  dis- 
tinguished by  :  (a)  the  hanamiehi,  or  'flower- way' 
— a  raised  platform  or  corridor  by  which  the  actors 
have  access  to  the  stage  from  the  other  end  of  the 
theatre,  passing  right  through  the  spectators  in  the 
pit.  The  hanamiehi  was  at  one  time  bordered  with 
flowers,  hence  its  name.  It  is  always  on  the  left 
hand  of  the  spectators  ;  on  their  right  there  is 
sometimes  another  passage  of  the  same  sort,  called 
the  karibanamichi,  or  'temporary  flower-bridge.' 
(b)  Between  the  hanamiehi  and  the  stage  is  a 
space  called  hashi-gakari,  '  bridge-space,'  some- 
times also  known  by  a  term  derived  from  the  usages 
of  the  camp — musha  bashiri,  'warriors  running.' 
It  is  through  this  space  that  warriors  reach  the 
stage.  Near  it  is  the  okubyo-guchi,  'coward's 
hole,'  the  significance  of  which  is  obvious,  (c)  The 
butai-ban,  or  'stage- watch,'  with  its  reliefs  of 
sentinels,  again  betrays  a  quasi-military  origin. 
(d)  The  central  part  of  the  stage  is  made  to  revolve 
(mawari-butai) — an   arrangement  which    calls   to 


DRAMA  (Javanese  and  Further  Indian) 


805 


mind  the  toikAij/ta  of  the  Greek  stage  ;  the  machine 
which  works  this  is  situated  in  the  naraku,  '  hell,' 
below  the  stage,  where  is  also  to  be  found  the 
seriage,  or  seridashi,  by  which  actors  are  '  pushed 
up '  through  the  flooring  of  the  stage.  There  are 
two  or  three  trap-doors  for  this  purpose  (kiri-ana) 
on  the  stage  itself,  and  a  similar  one  (support)  on 
the  hanainiM.  Only  the  larger  theatres  were 
allowed  to  have  mawari-butai — possibly  only  they 
could  afford  the  luxury,  (e)  The  koken  calls  to 
mind  primitive  conditions  in  the  history  of  the 
European  drama.  He  is  the  attendant  (supposed 
to  be  invisible)  of  the  principal  actors,  wears  black 
clothes,  removes  articles  that  are  not  required,  ad- 
justs the  actors'  robes,  and  holds  a  candle  for  them. 
(/)  The  tedai,  who  represents  the  proprietor  and  is 
charged  with  the  business  of  the  theatre,  sits, 
during  the  performance,  near  the  main  entrance  of 
the  house.  When  there  is  nothing  on,  his  office  is 
in  the  shikiri-ba,  or  accountant's  room.  The  todori 
has  the  supervision  of  everything  connected  with 
the  performance  and  the  actors.  His  office  (todori- 
ba)  is  in  the  back  part  of  the  building,  as  are  also 
the  hayashi-baya,  or  room  for  the  musicians,  the 
gakuya,  or  '  green  room,'  for  the  actors,  and  the 
sakusha-beya,  or  'authors'  room.'  This  last  calls 
for  a  few  words.  The  Japanese  have  scarcely  any 
dramatic  writers,  and  none  of  great  note.  Very 
few  of  the  no  dramas  can  be  assigned  to  any 
particular  writer,  and  the  same  remark  holds  good 
of  the  kabuki  drama.  The  actors  themselves, 
sitting  in  committee,  compose  the  play  as  a  joint- 
efi'ort,  and  it  is  this,  perhaps,  more  than  anything 
else  that  has  helped  to  keep  the  Japanese  stage  so 
stagnant  and  unprogressive.  Recent  efforts  at  re- 
form, such  as  Kawakami's  soshi-shibai  and  the 
construction  of  the  new  Imperial  Theatre,  must 
be  looked  upon  as  so  many  efforts  to  overthrow 
the  tyranny  of  the  player-actors.  The  student 
of  English  literature  will  see  here  the,  point  of 
analogy  with  the  pre-Shakespearean  dramatists  of 
the  Elizabethan  age. 

24.  Influence  of  the  drama  on  the  development 
of  '  Bushido.' — The  no  drama  had  its  first  glory  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  when  the  military  and  chivalrous 
spirit  of  Japanese  knighthood  was  at  its  prime. 
We  may  seek  for  its  origin  in  the  oldest  religious 
sentiment  of  the  people,  in  the  Buddhism  of  the 
Nara  age,  in  Chinese  and  Indian  influences.  But 
the  fact  still  remains  that  the  drama  never  took 
root  until  the  spirit  of  the  nation  was  moved  by  the 
incidents  of  that  great  national  epic  (for  it  was 
nothing  less)  which  gathers  round  Yoshitsune, 
Benkei,  Yoritomo,  and  the  great  warriors  of  the 
Genji  and  Heike.  Then  it  was  that  the  heart  of 
Japan  went  forth  in  sympathetic  response  to  the 
great  ideals  set  before  it  during  that  period  of 
national  distress.  It  was  then  that  the  imagina- 
tion was  quickened,  and  the  image  formed  of  the 
ideal  hero,  brave,  loyal,  patient,  quick  in  honour's 
quarrel — and  yet  a  religious  mystic,  whose  poetic 
insight  enabled  him  to  see,  dimly  perhaps,  but 
with  faith,  the  underlying  verities  of  existence. 
This  is  the  ideal  set  before  us  in  the  no,  and  the 
idealization  was  much  assisted  by  the  quietistic 
teachings  of  the  Zen  school  of  Buddhism. 

The  ideals  were,  however,  indistinct,  and  the 
principles  underlying  Bushido,  or  the  '  Way  of  the 
Ideal  Knight,'  were  felt  rather  than  understood. 
It  was  reserved  for  a  later  age  to  elaborate  the 
philosophy  of  life  with  which  Bushido  presents  us, 
and  Yamaga  Soko  (born  1622),  the  disciple  of 
Hayashi  Kazan,  and  the  instructor  of  Oishi  Kur- 
anosuke,  who  headed  the  celebrated  band  of  the 
forty-seven  ronin,  has  been  often  singled  out  as 
the  first  formal  exponent  of  Bushido.  According  to 
Yamaga  (the  present  writer  is  here  following  the 
Rev.  J.  T.  Imai,  who  in   his   turn   follows    Prof. 


Inouye  Tetsujiro),  Bushido  may  be  summarized 
somewhat  as  follows : 

To  know  one's  proper  work  or  duty,  to  have  the  will  to  do  it, 
and  to  carry  out  one's  g'ood  intentions  with  diligence  and  zeal. 
True  manliness  is  shown  by  not  being  moved  by  poverty, 
wealth,  or  power.  In  order  to  reach  that  ideal,  there  should 
be  acquired  large-mindedness,  a  noble  ambition,  gentleness, 
courtesy,  contentment ;  a  power  of  discerning  right  from  wrong, 
gain  from  loss  ;  uprightness,  honesty,  constancy.  These  virtues 
are  to  show  themselves  in  the  deportment,  in  gravity,  in  the 
care  taken  in  seeing,  hearing,  and  speaking,  in  the  expression 
of  the  countenance,  in  temperance  and  propriety  in  dress, 
houses,  furniture,  diet.  The  knight  must  have  a  right  way  of 
using  his  time,  his  wealth,  his  pleasures  (J.  T.  Imai,  Bushido, 
Tokyo,  1910). 

It  has  been  said  that  the  old-fashioned  Bushido 
of  the  mediaeval  knights  gave  its  last  expiring 
flicker  in  the  deaths  of  Oishi  Kuranosuke  and  hia 
band  of  ronin  in  1703.  Certainly  the  pax  Toku- 
gawica  which  lay  on  Japan  from  the  middle  of  the 
17th  to  the  middle  of  the  19th  century  was  no 
favourable  soil  for  the  production  of  so  delicate  a 
flower.  But  Yamaga  Soko  and  his  Confucianist 
successors  were  in  the  meantime  busy  laying  the 
foundation  of  a  new  Bushido,  and  in  this  they  were 
ably  aided  and  abetted  by  the  dramatists,  both  of 
the  kabuki  and  of  the  ningyo-shibai  (marionettes). 

'  It  was  at  this  period,'  says  Imai  (op.  tit.)  '  that  the  historic 
dramas  began  to  be  produced  by  Chikamatsu,  Takeda,  Izumo, 
and  later  writers.  They  were  exponents  of  Bushido  to  the 
mind  of  the  people,  to  men  and  women  alike  of  all  classes,  just 
as  Soko  and  others  were  to  the  learned.  It  was  through  these 
historical  plays  .  .  .  that  Bushido  influences  acted  and  re-acted 
on  the  Japanese  people.' 

We  can  scarcely  over-estimate  the  influence  that 
the  stage  has  had  and  still  has  in  forming  popular 
ideas  of  religion  and  morality  in  Japan,  but  we 
must  remember  that  the  words  '  honour,'  '  loyalty,' 
'duty,'  'honesty,'  and  'truth,'  which  these  plays 
directly  and  indirectly  illustrate,  are  not  quite 
the  equivalents  of  the  same  words  when  found  in 
Christian  writings.  They  must  be  interpreted 
according  to  the  standards  of  morality  which  were 
generally  accepted  in  18th  cent.  Japan. 

Literature. — Students  desiring  to  pursue  their  studies  be- 
yond the  limits  traced  by  this  article  are  recommended  to 
consult,  for  European  and  American  authorities,  the  very  com- 
plete Bibliographies  published  by  von  Wenckstern,  in  1894 
and  1904 ;  and,,for  Japanese  writers,  the  list  given  by  PeYi  in 
Bulletin  de  I'Ecole  B'rangaise  de  I'ExtrSme  Orient,  vol.  ix.  pp. 
254-273.  The  writer's  own  obligations  are  to  the  works  of 
W.  G.  Aston,  esp.  History  of  Japanese  Literature,  London, 
1S9S ;  K.  Florenz,  Geschichte  der  japanischen  Literatur,  Leip- 
zig, 1901 ;  M.  Revon,  Manuel  de  la  Utterature  japonaise,  Paris, 
1910  ;  Pe>i,  articles  in  Bulletin  de  VEcole  Fran<;aise  de  I'Extrime 
Orient,  1904-5  ;  Balet,  articles  in  Japan  Daily  Herald,  Yoko- 
hama, Nov. -Dec.  1910 ;  and  B.  H.  Chamberlain,  Things 
Japanese5,  London,  1905;  also  to  various  articles  which  have 
appeared  from  time  to  time  in  the  TASJ.  A.  LLOYD. 

DRAMA  (Javanese  and  Further  Indian). — The 
Javanese  drama  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of 
the  entire  Orient,  particularly  through  its  high 
development  of  the  '  shadow-play.'  Seven  distinct 
forms  of  drama  in  Java  are  enumerated  by  Juyn- 
boll  (AE  xiii.  4-5) :  (1)  wayang  purwa,  which  are 
played  with  puppets  of  buffalo  leather,  which  cast 
their  shadows  on  a  curtain,  and  draw  their  themes 
from  the  Mahabharata,  the  Ramayana,  or  the 
Javanese  Manik  Maya ;  (2)  wayang  gedog,  the 
same  as  the  preceding,  except  that  the  subjects 
are  drawn  from  the  native  Javanese  Panji-cjcle  ; 

(3)  wayang  kelitik  or  kerutyil,  which  are  played 
with  flat  unclothed  wooden  puppets,  and  draw 
their  themes  from  the  cycle  of  Damar   Wulan ; 

(4)  wayang  goleq,  which  are  played  with  round 
clothed  puppets,  and  draw  their  themes  from 
the  Damar  Wulan  and  the  Muhammadan  Amir 
Ambyah  cycles ;  (5)  wayang  topeng,  with  a  reper- 
toire identical  with  that  of  the  first  three  classes, 
hut  played  with  masked  actors ;  (6)  wayang  wong, 
the  same  as  the  last,  except  that  the  actors  are 
unmasked ;  and  (7)  wayang  beber,  with  the  same 
repertoire  as  the  preceding,  but  represented  by  a 
pictured  scroll  which  is  unrolled  and  explained  by 
the  dalang.     The  usual  mode  of  presentation  of  & 


896 


iJRAMA  (Javanese  and  Further  Indian) 


wayang  is  as  follows :-  -A  white  sheet  (kelir)  is 
stretched  on  a  wooden  frame  (panggung).  At  the 
top  of  this  frame  a  lamp  (blencon)  is  placed  so  as 
to  cast  its  light  upon  the  screen,  and  on  the  same 
side  as  the  lamp  the  '  director '  (dalang)  squats, 
having  on  his  left  a  chest  (kotak)  containing  the 
puppets  (wayang  or  ringqit).  On  the  side  of  this 
chest  are  a  few  small  plates  of  metal,  which  are 
struck  by  the  dalang  to  imitate  warlike  sounds. 
Near  him,  moreover,  is  a  bowl  of  incense,  and  also 
a  basin  containing  the  offerings  (sayen)  for  the 
spirits.  The  men  in  the  audience  are  seated  on 
the  same  side  of  the  curtain  as  the  dalang,  while 
the  women  are  placed  on  the  opposite  side,  so  that 
they  do  not  see  the  puppets,  but  only  their 
shadows.  All  the  lines  are  recited  by  the  dalang, 
who  varies  his  voice  or  gives  other  indications  of 
the  change  of  character.  This  holds  good,  at  least 
in  some  cases,  even  in  the  wayang  wong,  or  plays 
with  unmasked  human  actors.  In  the  wayang 
topeng,  played  with  masked  actors,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  players  themselves  speak  the  lines. 
Both  women  and  men  may  act,  as  in  the  ancient 
Sanskrit  drama. 

The  dalang  of  the  Javanese  drama  corresponds 
closely  to  the  siitradhara  of  India  (cf.  Pischel, 
Heimat  des  Puppenspiels,  Halle,  1900,  pp.  8-10), 
both  being  primarily  '  thread-pullers  (of  the 
puppets),'  although  the  word  dalang  itself  seems 
to  connote  originally  much  the  same  as  the  English 
'stroller'  (Hazeu,  Bijdrage,  pp.  23-24). 

The  Javanese  wayang  was  undoubtedly  religious 
in  origin,  as  has  been  elaborately  shown  by  Hazeu 
(op.  cit.  pp.  39-59),  who  calls  attention  to  the 
offerings  (sayen)  to  the  spirits,  to  the  incense 
offered  before  the  presentation  begins,  to  the  fact 
that  the  plays  are  given  at  night,  when  the  spirits 
are  abroad,  and  to  the  circumstance  that  the  pre- 
sentation is  a  meritorious  act  on  the  part  of  the 
patron  who  hires  the  troupe,  and  that  a  wayang 
should  be  given  by  all  means  at  certain  important 
periods  in  the  life  of  the  individual,  such  as  the 
festivals  at  the  seventh  month  of  pregnancy  and 
the  cutting  of  the  navel-string.  According  to  him, 
moreover,  the  entire  shadow-play  sprang  from  a 
desire  to  represent  the  ghosts  of  departed  ancestors 
by  what  resembled  them  most  closely,  that  is,  by 
shadows,  while  the  dalang,  who  causes  the  puppets 
to  cast  their  shadows  on  the  screen  and  recites 
lines  for  them,  is  primitively  a  priest  performing 
a  religious  ceremony  of  ancestor-worship.  The 
religious  character  of  the  Javanese  wayang  is  also 
confirmed,  perhaps,  by  the  phallic  character  of 
many  of  the  puppets,  since  nudity  is  not  only  a 
well-known  fertility -charm  (cf.  Serrurier,  De 
Wajang  Poerwa,  pp.  187-203),  but  also  a  potent 
vieans  of  frightening  away  demons  (Hazeu,  op.  cit. 
p.  43 ;  cf.  Crooke,  PB,  1896,  i.  68-72).  At  a  later 
period  this  phallicism  may,  of  course,  degenerate 
into  mere  obscenity,  as  in  the  Turkish  karagbz. 

The  age  of  the  drama  in  Java  is  uncertain,  but 
it  is  at  least  clear  from  allusions  to  it  in  the 
literature  that  it  was  popular  by  the  beginning  of 
the  11th  cent.  A.D.  Its  origin  is  still  more  prob- 
lematical, the  leading  authorities  on  the  subject 
holding  views  diametrically  opposed.  Serrurier, 
Hageman,  Poensen,  and  others  believe  that  the 
Javanese  drama  was  profoundly  influenced  by  the 
Hindu ;  while  Crawfurd,  Niemann,  Brandes,  and 
especially  Hazeu,  deny  that  Hindu  plays  formed 
the  model  of  the  wayang.  An  absolute  decision  of 
the  matter  is  not  easy,  but  in  the  present  state  of 
knowledge  it  would  seem  that  the  Javanese  drama 
is  indeed  an  original  .device.  India,  it  is  true, 
numbers  among  its  dramatic  categories  a  '  shadow- 
play'  (chdyanataka),  which  has  been  elaborately 
discussed  by  Pischel  in  his  '  Das  altindische 
Schattenspiel '  (SB A  W,  1906,  pp.  482-5U2  j   cf.  his 


Heimat  des  Puppenspiels),  with  the  conclusion 
that  the  shadow-play  in  the  technical  sense  of  the 
term  was  known  in  India.  Nor  is  there  any 
inherent  impossibility  that  the  Dutangada  of 
Subhata  (produced  in  Feb.-Mar.  1243 ;  tr.  Gray, 
JAOS  xxxii.  [1912]  1-20) — the  only  chdyanataka 
thus  far  edited — was  produced  somewhat  like  the 
Javanese  wayang ;  nevertheless,  the  difference  in 
spirit  between  this  and  other  plays  of  the  Rama 
cycle  in  India  (cf.  Levi,  Thidtre  indien,  Paris, 
1S90,  pp.  267-295),  as  compared  with  the  Rama 
plays  of  Java  (Juynboll,  '  Indonesische  en  achter- 
mdische  tooneelvoorstellingen  uit  het  Ramayana,' 
in  Bijdragen  tot  de  Taal-,  Land-,  en  Volkenkunde 
van  Nederlandsch-Indie,  6th  series,  vol.  x.  pp. 
501-565),  must  betaken  into  serious  consideration. 
The  profound  influence  of  the  literature  of  India 
upon  Java  is  too  well  known  to  require  emphasis 
(cf.  Lassen,  Ind.  Alterthumskunde,  Leipzig,  1861, 
iv.  524-531),  and  it  is  obvious,  moreover,  that  both 
Hinduism  and  Muhammadanism  have  given  themes 
to  the  Javanese  drama.  If  a  conclusion  may  be 
hazarded,  one  may  say  that  the  Javanese  wayang 
is  indigenous,  and  that  foreign  influence  is  mani- 
fested only,  or  at  least  chiefly,  in  the  subjects  of 
many  of  the  Javanese  plays. 

From  Java  the  drama  seems  to  have  spread  to 
Burma,  Siam,  and  Cambodia  (cf.  Serrurier,  op.  cit. 
pp.  170-186;  Hazeu,  op.  cit.  pp.  28-37).  In  all 
these  countries  the  Rama  cycle  forms  the  favourite 
theme,  although  Buddhistic  plays  are  also  frequent 
in  Burma.  The  Burmese  drama  is  divided  into 
zaht-pwis,  in  which  men  and  boys  (but  never 
women)  act,  and  yoht-thays,  or  puppet-plays. 
Here  again  the  drama  is  partly  religious,  not  only 
in  subject,  but  also  in  occasion,  as  at  the  birth  of  a 
child.  It  is,  furthermore,  produced  chiefly  at 
night,  and  is  thus  obviously  designed  to  frighten 
away  demons.  The  Siamese  plays,  in  many  of 
which  only  the  verse  is  written,  the  prose  being 
improvised,  deal  chiefly  with  the  theme  of  Rama, 
while  the  classifications  recall  those  in  Java,  the 
chief  ones  being  len  khon  (plays  by  masked  actors), 
len  hun  (puppet-plays),  and  len  nang  (rolls  of  ox- 
hide pricked  with  patterns  through  which  the  light 
of  a  fire  is  allowed  to  shine). 

Among  the  Malays,  finally,  the  Ramayana  is 
likewise  an  important  theme,  and  the  drama  shows 
the  influence  not  only  of  Siam  and  India,  but  also 
of  China.  Here  the  religious  basis  of  the  plays  is 
strongly  evidenced  both  in  the  invocation  (lagu 
pemanggil),  which  is  performed  by  a  pawang 
('magician')  to  the  accompaniment  of  various 
musical  instruments,  and  in  the  propitiation  of 
spirits  (buka  panggong).  The  Malays  are  ex- 
tremely partial,  moreover,  to  shadow-plays,  where, 
as  in  Java,  the  showman  repeats  all  the  lines, 
while  in  Siam  this  monologue  becomes  a  real 
dialogue  between  two  persons.  Throughout  Java 
and  Further  India,  then,  the  drama  is  character- 
istically either  a  shadow-play  or  a  mask.  There 
seems,  therefore,  to  be  little  association  with  the 
mimetic  dance-drama  of  the  Polynesians ;  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  masks  are  undoubtedly  one  of 
the  most  primitive  forms  of  all  drama,  as  is  clear 
from  the  analogies  of  the  American  Indian  and  of 
Greek  tragedy,  to  say  nothing  of  the  early  Roman 
fabuloi  Atellanm.  So  far  as  evidence  now  acces- 
sible goes,  it  would  seem  that  the  dramatic  art  of 
Java  and  Further  India  is  an  indigenous  product, 
despite  later  undoubted  influence  from  India. 

Literature. — Serrurier,  De  Wajang  Poerwa  (Leyden,  1896) ; 
Hazeu,  Bijdrage  tot  de  Kennis  van  het  javaansche  Tooneel 
(Leyden,  1897) ;  Juynboll,  '  Wajang  Kelitik  Oder  Kerutjil,'  in 
AE  xiii.  4-17,  97-119,  also  'Das  javanische  Maskenspiel,'  ib. 
xiv.  41-70,  81-111 ;  Hazeu,  '  Eine  "  Wajang  Beber"  Vorstel- 
lung  in  Jogjakarta,'  ib.  xvi.  128-135 ;  Bohatta,  '  Das  javan. 
Drama,'  in  Mitt,  anthropolog.  GcseUsch.  Wien,  xxxv.  [1905]  278- 
307  ;  Shway  Yoe,  The  Barman,  his  Life  and  Notions  (London, 
1882);    Bastian,  Reisen  in  Siam  (Jena,   1867);    Hallett,   A 


DRAMA  (Jewish)— DRAMA  (Persian) 


897 


Thousand  Miles  on  an  Elephant  (London,  1890);  Bock,  1m 
Reiche  des  weissen  Elephanten  (Leipzig,  1SS6) ;  Miiller, '  Niing, 
giam.  Schattenspielfiguren  ini  kbnigl.  Museum  fiir  Vblkerkunde 
zu  Berlin  '  (supplement  to  AE  viii.) ;  Moura,  Le  Royaume  du 
Cambodge,  ii.  (Paris,  1883);  Skeat,  Malay  Magic  (London, 
1900)  ;  Knosp,  'Thefitre  en  Indochine,'  in  Anthropos,  iii.  [1908] 
280-293 ;  Jacob,  Envdhnungen  des  Schallentheaters  in  der 
Welt-Lilt,  (Berlin,  190(3),  also  Gesch.  des  Schattentheaters 
(Berlin,  1907),  pp.  9-16.  LOUIS  H.   GRAY. 

DRAMA  (Jewish). — Dramatic  literature  among 
the  Hebrews,  as  among  all  Semitic  peoples,  was 
scanty.  Attempts  have  indeed  been  made  to 
interpret  the  song  of  Moses  (Dt  321"43),  the  song  of 
Miriam  (Ex  15"0-21),  and,  above  all,  the  Song  of 
Songs  (cf.  HDB,  s.v.),  as  dramatic;  but  these 
endeavours  have  been  unsuccessful.  Nor  is  the 
Book  of  Job  a  drama  in  any  true  sense  of  the  term. 
Whatever  the  Jews  accomplished  in  the  drama 
was,  and  is,  due  to  imitations  from  the  Indo- 
Germanic  races  with  whom  they  have  come  in 
contact.  The  earliest  Jewish  play  dates  from  the 
2nd  cent.  B.C.,  when  Ezekiel  of  Alexandria  at- 
tempted to  dramatize  the  events  of  the  Exodus. 
Fragments  of  his  play  have  been  preserved  by 
Clem.  Alex.  (Strom,  i.  23,  155)  and  Eusebius 
(Praep.  Evang.  ix.  29) ;  and  Schiirer  (GJV3  iii. 
373-376)  believes  that  this  drama  was  intended  for 
the  stage,  although  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  its 
production.  In  Ezekiel's  work  the  influence  of 
the  spirit  of  Euripides  is  evident,  and  his  object 
seems  to  have  been  not  only  to  instruct  the 
Alexandrine  Jews  in  Biblical  history,  but  also  to 
wean  them  away  from  Gentile  plays. 

The  general  attitude  of  the  Jews,  however, 
towards  the  drama  was  extremely  hostile,  in  con- 
formity with  their  policy  of  self-imposed  isolation, 
and  their  bitterness  was  increased  by  their  hatred 
of  the  Romans  and  their  suspicion  of  the  Greeks. 
It  was  not  until  the  middle  of  the  17th  cent, 
that  the  increased  scope  allowed  to  Jews  gave  rise 
to  a  Neo-Hebrew  drama,  modelled,  of  course,  upon 
the  theatre  of  the  Christians  by  whom  they  were 
surrounded.  The  first  of  these  plays  was  the 
Yesodh  'Olam,  by  Moses  Zacuto,  a  Marano,  or 
renegade  crypto-Jew,  of  Amsterdam,  and  its  theme 
is  the  Talmudic  legend  of  Abraham's  destruction 
of  his  father's  idols.  The  plots  of  the  Neo-Hebrew 
drama  are  either  religious  or  ethical,  as  in  the 
Asire  ha-Tikkoth  of  Joseph  ben-Isaac  Penzo 
(Amsterdam,  1673)  and  the  La-Yesharim  Tehillah 
of  Moses  Hayvlln  Luzzato  (Amsterdam,  1743),  the 
former  play  having  as  its  theme  the  attempts  of 
Understanding,  Providence,  and  an  angel  to  lead 
back  to  the  path  of  rectitude  a  king  distracted, 
against  his  will,  by  his  impulses,  his  wife,  and 
Satan ;  while  the  latter  drama  is  an  allegory 
designed  to  show  the  victory  of  truth  over  false- 
hood. No  fewer  than  forty-six  Neo-Hebrew  plays 
are  enumerated  by  Seligsohn,  the  majority  of  them 
based  on  Biblical  or  ethical  themes. 

Many  foreign  plays  have  also  been  translated 
into  Hebrew,  including,  for  instance,  the  Gemul 
'Athalyah  of  David  Franco-Mendes — an  adapta- 
tion from  Racine  and  Metastasio  (Amsterdam, 
1770) — and  versions  of  Racine's  Esther,  Schiller's 
Die  Rauber,  Lessing's  Nathan  der  Weise  and  Die 
Juden,  and  Shakespeare's  Othello,  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  and  Macbeth.  The  Yiddish  dramatists  are 
active,  and  many  great  cities  support  one  or  more 
Yiddish  theatres  which  cater  to  the  Jewish  popula- 
tion. These  plays  are,  however,  for  the  most  part 
translations  or  adaptations  of  dramas  by  non- 
Jewish  authors.  The  Jewish  drama  must,  there- 
fore, be  regarded  merely  as  a  literary  parasite ; 
even  its  apparently  original  productions  are  really 
copied  from  Indo-Germanic  sources. 

Literature. — Kuyper,  'Le  Poete  juif  Ezechiel,  in  REJ  xlvi. 
48-73,  161-177  [French  tr.  from  Mnemosyne,  new  series,  xxvii. 
237-280] ;    Seligsohn,  '  Drama,  Hebrew,'  in  JE  iv.  648-661 ; 

vol.  iv. — 57 


Wiernik,  '  Drama,  Yiddish,'  ib.  653-654,  and  the  bibliographies 
appended  to  the  two  latter  articles ;  Freidus,  'List  of  Dramas 
in  the  New  York  Public  Library  relating  to  the  Jews,  and  of 
Dramas  in  Heb.,  Judeo-Spanish,  and  Judeo-Gorman,  together 
with  Essays  on  the  Jewish  Stage,'  in  Bull.  N.Y.  Pub.  Lib.  xi. 

18-61.  Louis  H.  Gray. 

DRAMA  (Persian).— The  drama  of  Persia  is 
both  scanty  and  late,  due  in  part,  at  least,  to 
Muhammadan  rule,  which  has  never  been  favour- 
able to  the  development  of  this  art,  reflecting 
herein  the  dramatic  poverty  of  the  entire  Semitic 
race.  There  are,  however,  two  categories  of  Per- 
sian plays,  exclusive  of  the  marionettes  or  shadow- 
plays  (karagbz),  which  are  of  Turkish  origin.  The 
native  Persian  drama,  then,  may  be  divided  into 
comedies  (tamaSa)  and  mysteries  (ta'ziya,  lit. 
'consolation,  condolence').  The  comedies  are,  for 
the  most  part,  improvised  by  lutls,  or  itinerant 
buffoons,  and  offer  little  of  interest.  It  is  very 
different,  however,  with  the  ta'ziya,  which  is  the 
most  striking  mystery-play  of  the  entire  Orient, 
and  possesses  a  sway  over  the  Shl'ite  Persians 
comparable  with  that  of  the  Passion-Play  of 
Oberammergau  over  Christians.  The  individual 
ta'ziyas  are  comparatively  short,  and  are  concerned 
entirely  with  religious  subjects,  especially  with 
the  martyrdom  of  Hasan  and  Husam>  the  sons  of 
'All,  who  was  the  first  cousin  of  Muhammad  and 
the  husband  of  the  Prophet's  youngest  daughter 
Fatima.  'All,  the  rightful  successor  of  Muham- 
mad, was  rejected  in  favour  of  Abu  Bakr  at  the 
instigation  of  'A'isha,  and  was  later  assassinated, 
while  Hasan's  own  wife  poisoned  him  in  obedience 
to  the  Sunnite  Muawiyah,  and  Husain  was  later 
slain  in  battle  with  the  adherents  of  the  rival  sect. 
The  Persians,  being  Shi'ites,  have  accordingly 
adopted  Hasan  ana  Husain  as  martyrs  of  the  faith, 
and  commemorate  their  death  annually  during  the 
first  ten  days  of  the  month  of  al-Muharram.  In 
each  house  that  can  afford  it  a  place  is  constructed 
for  the  representation  of  the  mystery,  and  on  the 
side  towards  Mecca  is  set  the  model  of  the  tombs 
of  the  martyred  Hasan  and  Husain.  The  actors 
of  the  drama  are  not  specially  trained  for  the  pur- 
pose, but  their  deep  religious  feeling,  and  their 
regard  for  their  performance  as  for  a  sacred  duty, 
lend  a  power  to  the  presentation  which  works  the 
audience  into  a  frenzy  and  renders  it  necessary  to 
provide  for  the  safety  of  the  hated  Sunnites  whom 
they  may  meet  as  they  go  in  procession  through 
the  streets.  These  processions  occur  especially  on 
the  fifth,  seventh,  and  tenth  days  of  al-Muharram, 
the  most  important  being  the  two  last,  symbol- 
izing respectively  the  marriage  of  Kasim  with 
Fatima  and  the  death  of  Husam-  The  conclud- 
ing day  is  often  marked  by  bloody  conflicts 
between  the  Shi'ites  and  Sunnites. 

Dramatically  the  mystery-play  of  Hasan  ar>d 
Husain,  which  is  essentially  a  series  of  ta'ziyas, 
is  rude  but  effective,  gaining  strength  from  the 
very  popularity  and  vulgarism  of  its  style.  Its 
length  is  prodigious,  and  the  unities  of  time,  place, 
and  even  action  are  set  at  defiance.  The  author 
of  the  play  as  a  whole  or  of  its  parts  is  unknown, 
and  it  is  doubtless  a  product  of  the  people,  revised 
and  altered  according  to  need  by  those  who  act  it, 
rather  than  a  definite  dramatic  work.  The  num- 
ber of  ta'ziyas  composing  it  varies,  but  it  would 
seem  that  the  play  is  of  comparatively  recent 
development,  possibly  as  late  as  the  beginning  of 
the  19th century.  As  an  independently  developed 
Passion-Play,  untouched,  apparently,  by  non-Per- 
sian influence,  the  drama  of  Hasan  anci  Husain  is 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  dramaturgic  creations 
in  the  history  of  the  religious  stage. 

Literature.— Ethe,  Morgenldnd.  Sludien  (Leipzig,  1870), 
pp.  174-194,  also  in  GIrP  ii.  [1900]  315-316 ;  Chodzko,  Thidtn 
persan  (Paris,  1878) ;  Pelly,  The  Miracle  Play  of  Hasan  and 


DRAMA  (Polynesian)— DRAMA  (Roman) 


Husain,  Collected,  from  Oral  Tradition  (2  vols.,  London,  1879) ; 
Montet,  'Religion  et  theatre  en  Perse,'  in  RER  xiv.  277- 

290-  Louis  H.  Gray. 

DRAMA  (Polynesian). — Among  the  Polynesians, 
rudiments  of  the  drama  may  be  traced.  While 
these  embryo  plays  were  often  comic  in  character 
and  analogous  to  the  early  Roman  fabulce  Atel- 
lanw,  particularly  in  Raiatea  (Cook,  Voyage 
towards  the  South  Pole  and  round  the  World, 
London,  1777,  i.  173-176),  they  were  evidently 
derived  ultimately  from  religious  sources.  This 
is  distinctly  affirmed  by  Moerenhout  ( Voyages  aux 
ties  du  Grand  Oce"an,  Paris,  1837,  i.  133-134),  who 
states  that  the  dramas  were  presented  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Arii,  while  the  plays  themselves 
were  devoted  to  the  description  of  the  two  prin- 
ciples, Taaroa  and  the  matter  with  which  he  unites, 
the  creation  of  the  universe,  the  gods,  elements, 
spirits,  plants,  and  other  productions  of  the  earth  ; 
then  the  life  of  the  demi-gods  or  heroes,  their  jour- 
neys, combats,  and  the  like;  then  love-themes, 
dialogues  between  lovers  (laments,  quarrels,  true 
comedy-scenes) ;  and  the  presentations  invariably 
ended  in  dances.  It  is  also  noteworthy  that, 
according  to  the  same  traveller,  the  'musicians, 
singers,  and  declaimers'  at  these  plays  had  an 
orchestra  slightly  elevated  above  the  rest,  while  the 
'  actors  or  dancers '  occupied  a  special  place  before 
or  in  a  house.  It  would  therefore  seem  that  the 
function  of  the  Polynesian  actor  was  primarily 
that  of  the  mimetic  dancer,  the  words  being  sup- 
plied by  separate  reciters,  a  proceeding  for  which 
parallels  may  be  found  elsewhere,  as  among  the 
Javanese.  The  religious  basis  of  the  Polynesian 
drama  receives  an  additional  confirmation  in  the 
fact  that  plays  were  also  presented  in  connexion 
with  funerals. 

Literature. — Waitz-Gerland,  Anthropol.  der  Natv/rvblker 
(Leipzig,  1872),  vi.  99-100.  LOUIS  H.  GRAY. 

DRAMA  (Roman).— i.  Native  Italic  drama.— 
The  Roman  critics  were  deeply  interested  in  the 
Italic  beginnings  of  their  drama,  and  investigations 
of  the  subject  seem  to  have  begun  as  early  as  the 
time  of  Accius  (c.  100  B.C.).  Two  generations  later 
the  whole  subject  was  taken  up  and  examined 
anew  by  Varro,  notably  in  his  lost  Origines 
Scmnicw.  His  views,  so  far  as  they  survive,  are 
found  in  the  treatises  of  Diomedes  and  Donatus 
de  Comcedia.  The  intermediary  was  probably 
Suetonius.  Apart  from  scattered  references  in 
various  authors,  we  also  have  Horace  {Epist.  ii.  1. 
139  ff.)  and  Livy  (vii.  2).  It  is  quite  clear,  how- 
ever, that  the  Roman  critics  discovered  nothing 
very  definite.1  This  is  shown  by  their  lack  of 
agreement  on  any  given  point,  by  their  inconsist- 
encies and  incredible  combinations ;  above  all,  by 
their  frequent  appeals  to  etymology,  that  last 
resort  of  the  desperate  investigator.  It  is  im- 
possible, for  example,  to  reconcile  Livy's  famous 
account  with  facts,  probabilities,  or  even  possibili- 
ties. Jahn  saw  that  it  was  the  result  of  Aetiology 
and  of  mere  philological  '  combinations ' ;  Leo 
pointed  out  that  there  was  a  more  than  suspicious 
parallelism  with  Aristotle's  irepl  Koi/xtpSlas,  the 
standard  work  on  the  origins  of  the  drama  at  this 
time ;  Hendrickson  2  followed  and  elaborated  Leo 
by  showing  that  Livy  goes  back  to  Accius — perhaps 
by  way  of  some  Annalist  (Valerius  Antias?). 
Horace's  account  adds  something  to  Livy's,  but 
seems  to  have  been  derived  more  or  less  indirectly 
from   the  same   source.     Varro,   as   Hendrickson 

1  For  the  remains  of  antique  discussion  and  criticism  of  the 
drama,  see  esp.  G.  Kaibel,  Comic.  Gracor.  Frag.,  Berlin,  1S99, 
vol.  L  1,  p.  3  f.  For  the  early  period  of  the  Roman  drama  the 
most  important  literature  is  cited  bv  Schanz,  Rom.  Literatur, 
i.  i.,  1898,  par.  9. 

2  '  The  Dramatic  Satura  and  the  Old  Comedy  at  Rome,'  AJPh 
xv.  [1894]  1-30.  For  Jahn,  see  Hermes,  ii.  [1867]  226 ;  and  for 
Leo,  ib.  xxiv.  [1889]  67. 


shows,  was  inclined  to  distrust  the  earlier  ( Accian  ?) 
account,  and  appears  to  have  concluded  that  the 
Italic  origins  were  a  terra  incognita. 

Such  were  the  views  of  the  greatest  Roman 
scholar  ;  and,  on  the  whole,  we  are  still  constrained 
to  agree  with  them.  Neither  for  him,  however, 
nor  for  us  do  they  preclude  the  existence  of  a 
native  Italic  drama  in  the  wider  sense.  The 
Romans,  like  the  Greeks,  were  gifted  with  a  keen 
dramatic  instinct  and  a  large  modicum  of  the 
mimetic  faculty. 

The  liturgies  of  the  Salii  and  of  the  Arval 
Brothers,  the  carmina  triumphalia,  the  versus 
Fescennini,  the  songs  of  beggars  and  of  shepherds 
— all  indicate  clearly  enough  that  the  temperament 
which  is  responsible  for  the  modern  Commedio 
dell'  Arte  is  the  same  as  that  which  greets  us  at 
the  very  dawn  of  histoiy  on  the  Italian  Peninsula 
Irrespective  of  the  character  and  credibility  of 
the  testimony  offered  by  the  Roman  critics,  we 
may  safely  agree  with  Mommsen — and  so  far  as 
the  present  discussion  is  concerned  this  is  quite 
sufficient — that  the  simplest  elements  of  the 
mimetic  art  were  in  Latium  and  Hellas  altogether 
the  same.  The  dance  (triumphus,  0p(a/i/3os, 
8idvpa/j.f3os),  the  use  of  masks  or  their  equivalent, 
the  accompaniment  of  the  pipe,  the  rude  songs 
ceremonially  abusive  and  obscene  (to  avert  the  evil 
eye,  as  the  carmina  triumphalia,  and  the  versus 
Fescennini  at  weddings),  the  wearing  of  the  phallus 
for  the  same  purpose — all  in  honour  of  the  gods 
and  associated  from  the  first  with  rustic  festivals 
— -this  protoplasm  of  the  drama,  to  which  Horace 
gives  the  indefinite  name  of  Fescennina  licentia, 
may  be  assumed  for  Italy  quite  as  much  as  for 
Greece.  In  fact,  if  Fescenninus  in  this  connexion 
(Fescenninus  versus)  is  to  be  derived  iiorafascinuTn, 
Fescenninus  literally  =  0ci\Xik6s,  and  the  parallelism 
is  complete  between  Fescennina  licentia  and  to. 
(paXhtKa,  the  phallic  verses  characterizing  Aristotle's 
first  division  of  the  Comedy.  The  derivation  from 
Fescennium  (another  antique  theory)  might  have 
been  suggested,  though  this  is  more  than  doubtful, 
by  a  trustworthy  tradition  that  this  old  Latin 
town,  so  long  under  the  influence  of  Etruria,  was 
a  centre  of  the  worship  referred  to. 

It  is  neither  possible  here  nor  necessary  to  discuss 
the  vexed  and  vexing  question  of  the  dramatic 
satura,  the  name  given  by  Livy  to  a  play  with  a 
more  or  less  amorphous  plot  and  rude  improvised 
dialogue  assumed  by  his  authority  as  the  second 
stage  in  the  development  of  dramatic  art  on  Latin 
soil.  It  is  not  unlikely  per  se  that  a  play  of  the 
type  described  did  develop  in  Latium  as  it  did  in 
Greece,  but,  if  satura  is  the  traditional  name  of 
such  a  play  instead  of  being  (as  Hendrickson 
suggests)  merely  a  later  invention,  we  should  agree 
that  the  word  was  a  corrupted  form  of  o-drvpos,  and 
look  to  Southern  Italy  for  its  ultimate  origin. 

However  that  may  be,  it  is  fairly  certain  that 
the  Romans  were  affected  at  an  early  period  by  the 
Dorian  comedy  of  their  neighbours  to  the  South. 
This  is  shown  by  Bethe's  investigations,1  and  is  in 
harmony  with  Livy's  statement  (vii.  2),  imder  the 
year  364  B.C.,  that  histrio  is  an  Etruscan  word, 
and  that  the  artistic  beginning  of  the  drama  came 
from  Etruria.  This,  means  ultimately  Magna 
Graecia,  for  in  such  matters  Etruscan  influence  was 
Greek  influence  at  second  hand.  Etruria  was  not 
creative  in  the  sphere  of  art,  it  was  not  even  a  first 
class  imitator  ;  but  it  was  a  good  purveyor. 

2.  The  '  Palliata. ' — Let  us  turn,  however,  from 
the  crude  beginnings  of  mimetic  art,  Italic  or 
otherwise,  to  a  brief  consideration  of  the  Roman 
drama  as  a  literary  production.  From  this  point 
of  view  the  Roman  critics,  especially  after  Varro, 
agreed  that  the  first  definite  event  in  the  history 
1  Proleg.  zur  Gesch.  des  Theaters  im  Alterthum,  Leipzig,  1896. 


DRAMA  (Roman) 


899 


of  the  department  was  associated  with  the  year 
240  B.C.  The  long  war  with  Carthage  had  just 
been  brought  to  a  successful  termination,  and  it 
is  a  matter  of  record  that,  in  order  to  indicate 
its  especial  gratitude  for  Divine  protection,  the 
Government,  among  other  things,  commissioned 
the  Greek  freedman  Livius  Andronicus  to  enlarge 
the  usual  scope  of  the  Ludi  Romani  by  the  pre- 
sentation of  two  plays,  a  comedy  and  a  tragedy, 
translated,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  adapted 
from  the  Greek  for  a  Roman  audience.  For  the 
one  he  resorted  to  the  New  Comedy,  which,  being 
both  contemporary  and  cosmopolitan,  was  best 
fitted  to  reach  the  hearts  of  another  nationality  ; 
for  the  other  he  had  a  large  body  of  old  favourites 
from  which  to  choose.  The  experiment  was 
eminently  successful,  and  it  is  characteristic  of 
Roman  conservatism,  especially  in  connexion  with 
any  religious  rite,  that  the  types  thus  established 
were  in  certain  respects  rigidly  adhered  to.  The 
Comcedia  Palliata  (from  pallium,  a  Greek  soldier's 
cloak)  is  always  the  adaptation  of  a  play  from  the 
sphere  of  the  New  or  occasionally  (as  perhaps  in 
the  case  of  the  Amphitruo)  of  the  Middle  Comedy  ; 
the  scene,  the  characters,  and,  as  the  name  indicates, 
the  costumes,  are  all  Greek.  The  Greek  atmosphere 
is  not  always  consistently  preserved,  especially  in 
Plautus ;  but  even  here,  though  the  man  lived  and 
wrote  during  and  immediately  after  the  blazing 
excitement  of  the  Second  Punic  War,  deviations 
are  for  the  most  part  unimportant  and,  so  to  speak, 
accidental.  Comparison,  however,  with  fragments 
of  the  Greek  originals,  wherever  available,  shows 
that  the  poet  treated  his  exemplar  with  great  free- 
dom, both  in  content  and  in  form,  changing  what 
was  originally  a  dialogue  in  trimeters  into  the 
lyric  measures  of  a  canticum,  abridging  here, 
expanding  there,  and  otherwise  manipulating  his 
text  to  suit  his  taste  and  that  of  his  Roman 
audience.  Frequently,  too,  he  enlivened  the  action 
of  his  play  by  constructing  an  underplot  from  a 
certain  number  of  scenes  supplied  by  a  second 
Greek  exemplar.  This  process  was  technically 
known  as  contaminatio.  On  the  whole,  however, 
the  Palliata  is  a  faithful  representation  of  the 
New  Comedy  of  Greece.  Indeed,  owing  to  the  loss 
of  all  complete  originals,  it  is  our  only  representa- 
tive. The  characteristics  of  this  comedy  of  man- 
ners, or,  as  Ben  Jonson  would  say,  of  '  humours,' 
are  familiar  to  all. 

The  popularity  of  the  Palliata  and  the  creative 
period  of  its  existence  belong  in  round  numbers  to 
the  century  lying  between  240  and  140  B.C.  The 
names  of  at  least  twelve  comic  dramatists  belong- 
ing to  this  period  are  known,  and  the  number  of 
Palliata  written  by  them  must  have  been  not  less 
than  four  hundred.  We  now  have  the  six  plays  of 
Terence  and  twenty  plays,  more  or  less  complete, 
of  Plautus.  Of  the  remainder,  we  have  the  names 
of  about  one  hundred  and  forty  plays,  and  frag- 
ments amounting  in  the  aggregate  to  about  eight 
hundred  lines.  Apart  from  Plautus  and  Terence, 
the  great  names  of  the  department  were  Nsevius 
and  Caecilius  Statius.  In  the  famous  canon  of 
Yolcacius  Sedigitus — which  from  time  to  time 
some  scholar  claims  to  understand — the  order  of 
merit  is  Ca?cilius,  Plautus,  Nasvius,  Licinius, 
Atilius,  Terence,  Turpilius,  Trabea,  Luscius 
Lanuvinus,  Ennius.  Apparently  the  latest  of  the 
group  was  Turpilius,  who  died  at  Sinuessa  in  103. 
fle  had  already  outlived  the  popularity  of  his 
department  by  nearly  a  generation. 

The  Palliata  was  carefully  studied  in  the  two 
great  eras  of  Roman  scholarship — the  age  of  Varro 
and  the  age  of  Suetonius.  Many  plays  of  that 
type  were  doubtless  composed,  especially  by 
'  persons  of  quality,'  in  the  time  of  Domitian,  when 
it  was  the  fashion  to  write  books.     But,  after  the 


first  great  period  of  its  existence,  the  stage  tradi- 
tion of  the  Palliata,  so  far  as  we  are  now  able  to 
trace  it,  is  largely  the  stage  tradition  of  Plautus 
and  Terence.  Indeed,  the  only  Roman  comedy  to 
survive,  apart  from  these  two  authors,  is  a  re- 
working of  the  Aulularia,  belonging  probably  tc 
the  second  half  of  the  4th  cent.  A.D.,  and  known 
as  the  Querolus.1 

3.  The  '  Togata.' — This  was  the  successor  of  the 
Palliata  in  public  favour.  Its  floruit  belongs  to 
the  two  generations  between  the  fall  of  the  Palliata 
and  the  time  of  Sulla,  and  the  great  names  of  the 
department  are  Titinius,  L.  Afranius,2  and  T. 
Quintius  Atta.  Little  is  known  of  these  men 
personally,  except  that  Atta  died  in  77  B.C.,  and 
that  Afranius  was  an  older  contemporary.  Seventy 
titles  and  about  four  or  five  hundred  fragments, 
mostly  lexical,  are  all  that  remain  of  this  type. 

According  to  the  ordinary  Roman  definition  (e.g. 
esp.  Horace,  Ars  Poetica,  288),  which  we  have 
inherited,  the  Togata  was  the  Roman  parallel  of 
the  Palliata.  It  was  a  Roman  comedy  of  manners, 
representing  Roman  life,  as  the  Palliata  was  a 
Greek  comedy  of  manners  representing  Greek  life. 
The  scene  was  Roman  and  the  costumes  were 
Roman ;  hence,  of  course,  the  name.  Thanks  to 
Varro,  however,  we  learn  that  this  is  not  a  defini- 
tion of  the  Fabula  Togata  as  a  whole  (which  ought 
to  mean  any  play  distinctively  Roman),  but  of  its 
most  important  sub-variety,  the  Tabernaria.  The 
distinction  is  valuable  to  us,  because  the  word  itself 
is  more  significant  and  descriptive  than  is  Togata. 
Moreover,  Diomedes  adds  that '  tabernariae  dicuntur 
et  humilitate  personarum  et  argumentorum  simi- 
litudine  comoediis  pares,  in  quibus  non  magistratus 
regesve  sed  humiles  homines  et  privatae  domus 
inducuntur,  quae  quidem  olim  quod  tabulis  tege- 
rentur  communiter  tabernae  vocabantur.'  This 
statement  is  amply  supported  by  the  titles  and,  so 
far  as  they  go,  by  the  fragments.  The  scene  was 
generally  (perhaps  always)  outside  of  Rome,  and 
for  the  most  part  in  the  small  towns  of  Southern 
Latium.  Indeed,  Mommsen  claimed  that  the  scene 
had  to  be  laid  in  a  town  of  the  Latin  league, 
because  the  poet  was  not  allowed  to  represent 
either  Rome  or  a  Roman  citizen  on  the  stage. 
Hence  Mommsen  would  connect  the  death  of  the 
Togata  in  Sulla's  time  with  the  extension  of 
citizenship  to  the  Latin  towns  at  that  date.  If 
so,  why  was  it  that  the  Togatm  of  the  great 
masters  were  popular  on  the  stage  until  late  in 
the  Empire  ? 

The  fifteen  titles  of  Titinius  represent  what  was 
originally  about  twenty  thousand  lines  of  text. 
About  one  hundred  and  eighty  fragmentary  verses 
survive.  So  far  as  form  is  concerned,  the  model 
was  the  Palliata.  In  his  metrical  art,  Titinius 
followed  the  greater  regularity  of  Terence,  but  in 
language  and  temperament  he  seems  to  have  had 
more  in  common  with  Plautus.  His  plays  were 
all  family  pieces,  and  it  is  clear  that  the  life 
depicted  was  that  of  the  lower  classes  and  of  the 
country  folk.  The  prominence  of  women,  notice- 
able not  only  in  Titinius  but  in  other  authors  of 
this  type,  is  itself  characteristic  of  Italian  life. 
There  is  no  sign  of  the  kidnappers,  and  very 
little  of  the  slaves  which  Festus  tells  us  were 
standard  characters  in  these  plays.  The  only  type 
suggesting  the  Palliata  is  the  parasite.  The  others 
are  more  Italic,  and  remind  us  rather  of  the 
Atellana  and  the  mime  than  of  the  Palliata. 

By  far  the  greatest,  the  most  prolific,  and  the 
best  known  of  the  trio  was  Afranius.  Indeed,  like 
Moliere  and  Ben  Jonson,  Afranius  seems  to  have 

r  Querolus  sive  Aulularia,  ed.  by  R.  Peiper,  Leipzig,  1875, 
etc. 

2  F.  Marx,  in  Pauly-Wissowa,  i.  708  f.  For  the  Togata  as  a 
department,  see  esp.  Edmond  Courbaud,  de  Comosdia  Togata, 
Paris,  1S99. 


900 


DRAMA  (Roman) 


been  an  excellent  illustration  of  Gildersleeve's 
statement  that  '  in  literature  as  in  life  the  greatest 
borrowers  are  often  the  richest  men.'  Cicero 
(Brut.  167)  says  that  he  imitated  G.  Titius  the 
orator,  and  even  in  the  disjointed  fragments  now 
surviving  we  hear  echoes  of  Pacuvius,  possibly 
even  of  Cato,  but  above  all  of  Menander.  In  fact, 
enough  is  left  of  his  prologue  to  the  Compitalia  to 
show  not  only  that  he  followed  Menander,  but  that 
he  was  criticized  for  it.  His  reply  was  that  '  he 
borrowed  not  alone  from  Menander,  but  from  any 
other  writer,  Greek  or  Latin,  whenever  he  found 
something  suitable  to  his  purpose.'  'Why  not? 
Is  any  Latin  writer  comparable  with  Terence  in 
either  language  or  wit?  At  the  same  time,  was 
there  ever  such  a  borrower?'  Evidently  we  have 
here  the  echoes  of  a  lively  discussion  among  the 
critics  of  the  Gracchan  Age  —  one  which  was 
doubtless  taken  up  in  some  of  the  lost  satires  of 
Lucilius.  Cicero  (de  Fin.  i.  7)  explains  the  nature 
of  the  debt  to  Menander.  It  concerned  not  plots,  or 
scenes,  or  characters,  but  locos  quosdam,  detached 
passages ;  it  was  the  same  relation  which  Ennius 
bore  to  Homer  that  every  first-class  Roman  poet 
bore  to  his  Greek  models.  But  in  itself  the  genius 
of  Afranius  seems  to  have  had  much  in  common 
with  that  of  Menander,  and  Horace's  (Epist.  ii.  1. 57) 

'  dicitur  Afranii  toga  eonvenisse  Menandro ' 
was  evidently  the  prevailing  opinion  of  critics  in 
his  time.  Doubtless,  he  did  not  entirely  accept 
it;  nevertheless,  he  quotes  it  without  comment. 
Forty-three  titles  and  over  four  hundred  lines  of 
fragments  survive.  Noticeable  in  Afranius  as 
compared  with  Titinius,  and  in  Atta  perhaps  as 
compared  with  Afranius,  is  the  steady  growth 
towards  the  literary  Atellana  and  mime,  those 
rivals  of  the  Togata  which  were  already  at  hand. 

The  Togata  was  much  read  and  admired  as  a 
classic  in  the  age  of  Hadrian  and  the  Antonines. 
After  that  we  hear  little  of  it.  In  all  the  great 
library  of  antique  realism,  now  gone  beyond  recall, 
there  is  probably  no  department,  at  least  so  far  as 
Rome  is  concerned,  which  we  could  so  ill  afford  to 
lose.  The  literature  of  Rome  as  it  now  survives 
is  largely  the  literature  of  a  great  capital— in  other 
words,  that  portion  of  the  written  word  which  was 
capable  of  appealing  to  the  common  denominator 
of  taste  for  a  long  stretch  of  time  in  a  universal 
empire.  Whatever  was  local  or  peculiar  in  form 
or  content  was  for  that  very  reason  heavily 
handicapped  in  the  struggle  for  existence  all 
through  the  arid  waste  which  lies  between  the  3rd 
or  4th  century  and  the  Renaissance.  The  Togata 
was  the  artistic  comedy  of  the  Roman  bourgeoisie. 
It  must  have  been  an  incomparable  picture  of 
the  ordinary  life  of  the  Italian  countryside,  of 
old  towns  like  Preeneste  or  Veliternum,  witli  all 
their  local  ambitions,  characters,  and  peculiarities, 
during  the  2nd  cent.  B.C.  As  it  is,  our  knowledge 
of  this  aspect  of  antique  Italian  life  must  be 
derived  for  the  most  part  from  the  priceless  frag- 
ments of  Petronius,  and  the  great  palimpsest  of 
Pompeii  written  over  by  the  hand  of  Vesuvius. 

4.  Tragedy.— The  rules  of  the  Roman  tragedy 
founded  by  Livius  Andronicus  and  developed  by 
his  followers  are  practically  the  same  as  those 
already  stated  for  the  Palliata.  The  great  names 
are  Ennius,  his  nephew  Pacuvius,  and  Aecius. 
Accius  survived  until  the  youth  of  Cicero,  but  it  is 
clear  that  even  then  the  stage  tradition  of  the 
tragedy  lived  in  the  fame  of  the  great  actor  Asopus 
rather  than  by  the  popularity  of  the  department 
as  such.  The  tragedy  of  this  period,  the  only 
great  period  of  its  existence  on  Roman  soil,  is  now 
represented  by  nearlyone  hundred  titles  and  about 
twelve  hundred  lines  of  fragments.  Among  the 
numerous  lost  tragedies  written  in  later  times  the 
famous  Thyestes  of  Varius  and  the  equally  famous 


Medea  of  Ovid  were  the  most  important.  Irrespec- 
tive of  such  monstrosities  as  the  Medea  of  Hosidius 
Geta  (a  Vergilian  cento  [see  Anth.  Lat.  17,  R]), 
the  only  survivors  of  this  department  are  the  plays 
of  Seneca,  belonging  to  the  time  of  Nero.  It  has 
often  been  said,  though  the  statement  is  really 
quite  without  warrant,  that  they  were  never 
intended  for  the  stage.  However  that  may  be,  it 
is  certain  that  their  influence  on  the  early  tragedy 
of  England  and  France  is  one  of  the  most  important 
chapters  in  the  formative  history  of  the  modern 
drama.  Their  connexion,  if  they  have  any,  with 
the  tragedy  of  the  Republican  period  cannot  be 
stated  definitely.  Formally  speaking,  the  choruses 
go  back  to  the  school  of  Horace,  and  the  plays 
throughout  were  deeply  affected  by  contemporary 
rhetoric. 

5.  The  '  Prastexta.' — The  Prcetexta,  the  Roman 
parallel  to  the  Tragcedia  of  Livius  and  his  followers, 
as  the  Togata  was  the  Roman  parallel  to  the 
Palliata,  was  the  invention  of  Nsevius,  the  greatest 
constructive  genius,  perhaps,  of  Roman  poetry. 
But,  owing  in  part,  no  doubt,  to  the  comparative 
poverty  of  native  Roman  legends,  the  idea  was 
not  especially  fruitful.  One  example,  however, 
survives.  This  is  the  Octavia,  a  play  by  some 
unknown  author,  probably  of  the  Flavian  period, 
and  possibly  connected  in  some  way  with  the 
house  of  the  Anneei,  inasmuch  as  it  has  come  down 
to  us  in  the  corpus  of  Seneca's  tragedies. 

So  much  for  a  brief  survey  of  the  Roman  drama 
as  a  purely  literary  production  from  beginning  to 
end  {Palliata  and  Togata,  Tragcedia  and  Proetexta). 
It  remains  to  consider  those  types  of  the  drama 
which  had  a  popular  as  well  as  a  literary  history. 
The  most  important  of  these,  and  the  only  ones 
with  which  we  need  to  be  concerned  in  the  present 
inquiry,  are  the  mime  and  the  Fabula  Atellana. 
Strictly  speaking,  the  A  tellana  should  be  considered 
a  variety  of  the  mime.  Here,  however,  we  take 
it  up  first,  not  only  because  as  a  literary  form  it  is 
the  immediate  successor  of  the  Togata  in  public 
favour,  but  also  because  as  a  popular  form  it  is 
probably  the  oldest  dramatic  entertainment  known 
to  have  existed  on  Roman  soil. 

6.  The  'Atellana.'— The  Fabula  Atellana1  is 
the  '  play  from  Atella,'  a  little  town  in  Campania. 
Campanian  origin  is  also  attested  by  the  fact  that 
the  play  was  known  as  '  Oscan,'  and  the  characters 
as  '  Oscae  personae '  (Diomedes,  i.  490,  i.e.  Varro). 
Generally  speaking,  of  course,  these  plays  were 
acted  in  Latin,  but  Strabo  (v.  233 ;  cf.  Sueton. 
Jul.  39)  tells  us  that  in  his  time  (the  Augustan 
Age)  they  were  still  acted  in  Oscan  Kara  two.  aydva 
Trarpiov, '  during  the  national  festival.'  This  state- 
ment, so  far  from  being  incredible,  as  many  have 
thought,  is  merely  an  excellent  illustration  of  the 
well-known  tendency  of  liturgy  to  linguistic  con- 
servatism (compare  the  use  of  Sumero-Akkadian 
by  the  Babylonians ;  of  Greek  in  the  Roman 
worship  of  Ceres,  as  attested  by  Polybius,  xxx.  14, 
and  Cic.  Balb.  55 ;  of  Greek  in  the  Russian,  and 
of  Latin  in  the  Roman  Church,  etc.).  It  proves 
beyond  a  doubt  not  only  that  the  play  was  Oscan, 
but  that  the  Romans  took  it  over  in  the  first  place 
in  consequence  of  some  vow  or  in  connexion  with 
some  special  occasion,  and  acted  it  at '  the  national 
festival.'  It  is,  therefore,  reasonable  to  suppose 
that  the  small  and  obscure  town  of  Campania 
recorded  in  the  title  A  tellana  was  either  the  centre 
of  the  worship  commemorated  or  in  some  way 
associated  with  its  adoption.  The  date,  though 
uncertain,  was  at  least  anterior  to  the  time  of 
Livius  Andronicus,  and  probably  by  a  considerable 
period.     This  is  shown  in  two  ways.     The  first  is 

1  F.  Marx,  in  Pauly-Wissowa,  ii.  1914  ff.,  with  ref. ;  A. 
Dieterich,  Pulcinella,  Pompejanische  Wandbilder  und  romischi 
Satyrspiele,  Leipzig,  1897. 


DRAMA  (Roman) 


901 


derived  from  the  special  and  peculiar  privileges  of 
the  actors.  The  first  actors  hired  by  Livius 
Andronicus  were  either  slaves  or  freedmen.  Hence 
the  invariable  rule  of  later  days  that  no  Roman 
citizen  could  go  on  the  stage  without  ipso  facto 
incurring  infamia,  i.e.  the  loss  of  certain  important 
civic  rights  (as  exemplified,  for  instance,  by  the 
famous  case  of  the  mimograph  Laberius  in  Caesar's 
time).  The  one  exception  was  the  Atellana. 
Here  and  here  only  the  actor  was  not  obliged  to 
remove  his  mask,  and  a  citizen  could  take  part 
without  incurring  any  legal  disability.  This  can 
only  mean  that  the  Atellana  was  introduced  at  a 
time  when  the  Romans  had  no  professional  actors, 
and  probably  no  festival  at  which  theatrical  per- 
formances were  regularly  given.  The  A  tellana  had 
been  acted  by  Campanian  citizens.  The  Romans 
followed  their  model,  and  acted  the  play  them- 
selves as  best  they  could.  When  the  Greek  drama 
was  introduced  in  240  B.C.  with  its  professional 
actors  (slaves  and  freedmen),  the  business  ceased 
to  be  honourable,  and  Roman  citizens  gave  it  up. 
But  that  they  had  once  taken  part  in  the  Atellana 
was  reflected  in  the  freedom  from  infamia  which 
ever  after  remained  a  privilege  of  the  actors  in  this 
particular  type  of  drama.  The  special  privilege  of 
retaining  the  mask  also  shows  that  the  Atellana 
came  early  to  Rome ;  not,  however,  because  the 
professional  played  without  a  mask  in  early  times, 
but  because  of  the  extreme  antiquity  of  masks  in 
the  religious  rite. 

The  second  argument  for  the  high  antiquity  of 
the  Atellana  among  the  Romans  is  derived  from 
the  well-known  principle  that,  unless  the  ground 
is  already  occupied,  the  play  always  brings  its 
theatre  with  it.  Now,  Bethe  {Proleg.  zur  Gesch. 
des  Theaters  im  Alterthum,  Leipzig,  1896)  has 
shown,  we  think  conclusively,  that  the  peculiar 
shape  of  the  Roman  stage,  about  which  so  much 
has  been  written,  is  not  due  to  the  fact  that  it  was 
a  modification  of  the  Hellenistic  type.  On  the 
contrary,  it  reflects  the  type  associated  from  time 
immemorial  with  the  Atellana.  In  other  words, 
when  Livius  Andronicus  brought  out  his  first 
Greek  plays,  the  Atellana  was  already  in  posses- 
sion, and  he  adopted  its  stage  as  a  matter  of 
course.  The  same  rule  and  the  same  line  of 
investigation  applied  to  the  stage  of  the  Atellana 
itself  tend  to  prove  that  this  play  was  not  an 
Oscan  invention.  It  was  a  popular  Oscan  repre- 
sentation of  the  0Xi5aices,  one  of  the  oldest  types 
of  the  ancient  Dorian  comedy  in  Southern  Italy. 

The  importation  of  the  Atellana  to  Rome  may 
have  been  due  to  some  incident  in  connexion  with 
the  fall  of  Campania  in  338.  Perhaps,  too,  Livy's 
description  of  the  play  which  he  calls  a  satura 
may  go  back  ultimately  to  a  confused  recollection 
of  the  Roman  Atellana  in  those  early  days. 

Like  all  genuine  folk-dramas,  the  Atellana  was 
not  committed  to  writing.  The  actors  merely 
agreed  upon  the  plot.  The  dialogue  was  improvised. 
The  characters  were  confined  to  a  certain  number 
of  fixed  types,  each  with  a  generic  name,  and  there 
were  no  women.  These  features  are  all  typical  of 
genuine  folk-drama  the  world  over,  and  the  last 
two,  especially,  indicate  the  high  antiquity  of  the 
play.  The  use  of  masks  has  already  been  men  tioned. 
This  and  the  wearing  of  the  phallus  are  ceremonial, 
and  show  the  antiquity  of  the  type.  The  use  of 
masks  also  accounts  for  the  extreme  liveliness  of 
gesture  characteristic  of  the  Atellana  (Juvenal, 
vi.  71).  They  were  also  peculiarly  applicable  for 
'  Oscae  personae,'  for  a  play  in  which  all  the  char- 
acters were  fixed.  The  plot,  whatever  it  happened 
to  be,  attached  itself  to  these  familiar  personified 
types,  and  represented  their  various  adventures  in 
the  given  situations.  As  befitted  the  roaring  farce, 
the  situation  was  always  ludicrous  and  the  plot 


full  of  intrigue.  In  fact,  '  intrigue '  is  derived  from 
tricce  (Dieterich,  Pulcinella,  98,  n.  2),  and  tricot, 
'tricks,'  was  the  word  used  to  describe  the  action 
of  these  plays  (Varro,  Sat.  Men.  182  B  ;  cf.  Ribbeck, 
Leipzig.  Stud.  ix.  [1886]  337).  The  language  was 
conversational,  and  the  life  depicted  was  the  life 
of  ordinary  people  (Varro,  de  Ling.  Lat.  vii.  84). 
Obscenity  was  notably  prominent  (Quint,  vi.  3.  47, 
etc. ) ;  but  this,  too,  was  ceremonial  and  traditional 
as  well  as  a  matter  of  choice.  The  most  striking 
and  instructive  modern  parallel — in  fact,  if  we 
may  believe  Dieterich,  the  actual  descendant  and 
representative  of  the  Atellana  in  the  world  of  to-day 
— is  the  Neapolitan  Commedia  dell'  Arte. 

The  four  fixed  characters  of  the  Atellana  are 
Maccus,  Bucco,  Pappus,  and  Dossenus.  Maccus 
(probably  Oscan  and  borrowed  from  yua/ocoae,  to 
sit  '  mooning ')  is  stupid,  greedy,  and  lustful — the 
butt  of  every  one.  He  corresponds  to  Stupidus 
in  the  mime.  His  weapon  is  the  '  clava  scirpea ' 
(Novius,  79  R),  for  which  we  have  a  striking 
parallel  in  Bajazzo  (of  the  Commedia  dell'  Arte), 
i.e.  Pagliazzo,  the  man  with  the  'hay  club' 
(Dieterich,  p.  112).  Bucco  (a  popular  derivation 
from  vulgar  Latin  bucca,  as  the  name  indicates ; 
cf.  Gr.  Fvadwv)  is  a  great  eater,  a  huge  talker,  an 
unconscionable  braggart,  an  arrant  coward.  '  Over- 
large  jaws,'  as  we  learn  from  the  old  Scriptores 
Physiognomonici  (i.  412,  7  Foerster),  'betoken  a 
blockhead,  a  babbler,  a  well-spring  of  words, 
words,  words,'  a  man  who  'talks  with  his  mouth' 
{bucca),  as  our  popular  expression  goes.  Bucco  is 
the  talkative  and  aggressive  fool,  the  '  cheerful 
ass,'  as  opposed  to  Maccus  the  great  gaby,  the 
simple  and  confiding  blockhead.  Pappus  (from 
Greek  7iwiro5)  is  the  '  old  man,'  avaricious,  surly, 
lustful,  foolish,  conceited,  therefore  always  being 
overreached :  in  short,  Pappus  is  Pantalone. 
Dossenus  (from  dorsum,  a  pure  Latin  word)  is  '  the 
man  with  the  back,'  i.e.  the  hunchback.  In  the 
popular  conception  this  affliction  has  always  implied 
wisdom  and  cunning  (cf.  iEsop)  as  well  as  certain 
powers  more  or  less  uncanny.  Hence,  in  the 
A  tellana,  Dossenus,  like  his  modern  representative 
//  Dottore,  in  Pulcinella,  is  the  sly  and  cunning 
rascal,  the  '  professor,'  the  caricature  of  the  scholar 
and  philosopher.  His  second  name  of  Manducus 
(cf.  manducare,  mangiare,  manger)  shows  that,  like 
Bucco,  he  is  also  a  great  eater. 

Such  were  the  standard  characters,  and  such  seem 
to  have  been  the  main  characteristics  of  the  Atel- 
lana in  its  traditional  and  purely  popular  form. 

For  a  brief  period  this  old  folk-drama  was  raised 
to  the  dignity  of  a  literary  department,  and  suc- 
ceeded the  Togata  in  public  favour.  The  period  is 
the  time  of  Sulla,  and  the  great  names  are  Pom- 
ponius  of  Bologna  and  Novius.  The  lines  upon 
which  they  worked  out  the  problem  were  doubtless 
suggested  in  no  small  degree  by  the  dramatic 
studies  of  Accius  and  his  contemporary,  C.  Iulius 
Csesar  Strabo.  These  men  investigated  the  Roman 
drama  in  connexion  with  Greek  models,  the  ques- 
tion of  correct  titles  ("Varro,  de  Ling.  Lat.  x.  70), 
of  masks,  etc.  Influence  of  the  Palliata  and 
Togata  is  suggested,  though  not  proved,  by  occa- 
sional identity  of  titles.  We  also  hear  of  cantica 
in  Galba's  time  (Suet.  Nero,  39,  Galba,  13),  and 
it  is  natural  to  suppose  that  in  raising  the  old 
farce  to  the  dignity  of  a  literary  product  something 
was  borrowed  from  the  higher  types.  It  is  clear, 
however,  that  the  essential  characteristics  of  the 
folk-drama  were  all  preserved.  The  dialogue  was 
now  written  out,  of  course,  and  the  statement  of 
Terentianus  Maurus  (vi.  396  K),  that  the  metre 
used  was  the  septenarius,  is  borne  out  by  the  frag- 
ments. In  other  words,  there  was  no  recitative,  the 
play  was  all  comic.  Indeed,  in  language,  humour, 
and   situation  these  plays  were   more  distinctly 


902 


DRAMA  (Roman) 


Aristophanic  than  anything  else  in  Roman  litera- 
ture. Equally  Aristophanic  was  the  habit  of 
personal  criticism,  the  6vo/j.o.<ttI  KwpoiSelv,  of  which 
we  hear  daring  the  Empire  from  Tiberius  to 
Trajan  (Tac.  Ann.  iv.  14 ;  Suet.  Tib.  45,  Calig.  27, 
Nero,  39,  Galba,  13,  etc.). 

With  the  rise  of  the  Atellana  to  a  literary  form,  we  have  to 
deal  with  a  confused  and  confusing  tangle  of  testimonies  regard- 
ing the  Aiellana,  the  Exodium,  the  Rhinthonica,  and  the  Greek 
Satyr-drama. 

The  conclusion  seems  to  be  (cf.  schol.  Juv.  ill.  175,  vi.  71 ; 
Suet.  Tib.  45  ;  Cic.  Fam.  vii.  1,  ix.  16)  that  the  literary  Atel- 
lana  was  used  as  an  exodium,  and  the  first  mention  of  the  word 
in  Lucilius  (180-103  b.c)  coincides  with  its  development  in  this 
sphere.  A  short  piece  of  three  to  four  hundred  lines,  and  with 
only  a  few  actors  (Ascon.  on  Cic.  Verr.  15),  it  seemed  hardly 
worth  while,  so  to  speak,  to  put  it  on  the  stage  by  itself.  Ap- 
parently, therefore,  it  was  the  analogy  of  the  Satyr-drama  that 
suggested  the  use  of  the  literary  Atellana  as  an  exodium,  an 
after-piece.  By  later  critics  it  actually  was  identified  with  the 
Satyr-drama  (schol.  Juv.  vi.  71 ;  Porphyr.  on  Hor.  Ars  Poet. 
221,  etc.).  But  it  is  hard  to  see  how  the  two  could  coalesce. 
The  literary  model  for  the  Atellana  to  follow  ought  to  be  the 
Eilarotragoedia,  the  Rhinthonica  (Porphyr.  I.e.  ;  schol.  Juv. 
I.e.),  and  that  it  actually  did  so  is  suggested  by  certain  titles  of 
Pomponius(Vahlen,  Rhein.  Mus.  xvi.  [1861]  472).  As  Rhinthon's 
plays  were  travesties  of  Euripides,  so  the  Rhinthonicce  of  Pom- 
ponius  and  Novius  were  travesties  of  Pacuvius  and  Accius. 
Were  the  Rhinthonicce  of  Pomponius  and  Novius  Atellance,  or  is 
this  idea  of  later  critics  due  to  the  fact  that  Pomponius  and 
Novius  wrote  both  kinds  and  used  both  kinds  as  exodia  1  We 
believe  Marx  is  right  in  adopting  the  second  alternative.  In 
fact,  the  loss  of  all  these  departments,  the  similarity  in  type, 
use,  titles,  and  characters,  make  it  extremely  difficult  to  decide 
whether  the  Atellana,  Rhinthonica,  and  Satyr-drama  ever  did 
coalesce  to  any  extent.  Probably  not.  The  explanation  seems 
to  be  that  Pomponius  and  Novius  wrote  all  three  and  used  them 
for  exodia. 

The  Atellana  was  evidently  popular  under  the 
Empire  ;  the  old  folk-drama  was  never  forgotten, 
but  as  a  living  department  of  literature  it  seems  to 
have  been  largely  the  creation  of  these  two  men, 
and  as  early  as  55  B.C.  (cf.  Cic.  Fam.  vii.  1,  3 
[written  in  46])  the  literary  Atellana  as  an  exodium 
had  already  given  way  to  the  mimes  of  Decimus 
Laberius  and  Publilius  Syrus,  the  only  two  men  of 
note  who  raised  the  mime  to  a  literary  form  in  the 
Latin  language.  If  this  were  all,  or  if  this  chapter 
could  be  dealt  with  independently,  the  mime  might 
be  dismissed  with  the  few  phrases  usually  accorded 
to  it.  We  have  learned  from  Reich,1  however,  that 
this  cannot  be  done,  and  with  his  general  con- 
clusions we  must  agree  in  the  main.  The  literary 
productions  of  Laberius  and  Syrus,  like  the  Atel- 
lana by  which  the  mime  was  preceded,  are  a  mere 
branch  of  the  parent  stock. 

7.  The  mime. — In  its  larger  sense  the  mime  is 
the  most  important  phenomenon  in  the  history  of 
dramatic  art ;  it  appears  in  a  dozen  different  forms, 
it  is  responsible  for  a  dozen  others  ;  the  history  of 
it  is  the  history  of  the  growth  of  realism,  of  the 
rise  of  the  democracy  ;  it  has  popular  periods  and 
literary  periods,  a  Greek  history,  a  Roman  history, 
a  Graeco-Roman  history,  a  modern  history.  In- 
deed, after  reading  Reich  one  may  sum  up  the 
whole  story  of  the  antique  drama  with  the  simple 
phrase,  '  Mime  thou  wert,  to  mime  didst  thou 
return.'  For  the  complete  and  detailed  discussion 
of  this  long  and  interesting  development,  the 
reader  is  referred  to  Reich  himself.  Here  it  is 
mainifestly  impossible  to  give  anything  more  than 
some  of  the  important  facts  in  outline. 

The  earliest  appearance  of  the  word  '  mime '  is 
as  a  title  for  the  famous  compositions  of  Sophron 
(5th  cent.  B.C.).  These  dramatic  presentations  of 
single  incidents  or  situations,  according  to  Suidas, 
were  in  prose  and  written  in  the  Doric  dialect.  The 
substitution  of  the  scazon  for  prose  gives  the  form 
and  the  atmosphere  of  the  mimiambi  of  Herondas, 
the  Teniers  of  Alexandrian  life.  A  more  elevated 
metre,  on  the  other  hand,  starts  us,  by  way  of 
Sophron's  imitator  Theocritus,  on  the  long  history 
of  bucolic  poetry.     A  convenient  generic  term  for 

1  Reich,  Der  Mimus,  ein  litterar-entvnckelungsgeschichtl.  Ver- 
auch.  vol.  i.,  Berlin,  1903. 


this  type  is  Reich's  mimologia,  i.e.  the  mime  as  a 
recitation. 

There  were  also  purely  lyric  mimes,  which  were 
sung.  To  these  Reich  gives  the  generic  title  of 
mimodia.  Particular  species  of  it  are  magodia, 
Simodia,  hilarodia,  Lysiodia.  Between  the  two 
we  have  kinaidologia  and  Ionilcologia,  all  in  verse, 
but  partly  recited,  partly  sung.  Finally,  in  the 
Alexandrian  period,  comes  the  fully  developed 
mimetic  drama,  which  was  a  combination  of  mimo- 
logia and  mimodia,  and  retained  the  characteristics 
of  both.  With  a  fully  developed  plot,  it  had  prose 
parts  and  iambic  parts,  like  the  mimologia,  and 
lyric  parts — cantica — like  the  mimodia.  With  the 
conquests  of  Alexander  this  new  invention  began 
to  spread  in  the  Greek  East,  and  soon  took  entire 
possession  of  it.  Indeed,  the  time  came  when  it 
ruled  the  stage,  even  to  the  exclusion  of  its  ancient 
rival,  the  comedies  of  Menander. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  2nd  cent.  B.C.,  after  the 
Romans  conquered  the  East,  and  especially  after 
Sulla's  time,  they  brought  the  dramatic  mime  to 
Rome.  From  Rome  it  spread  over  the  West,  and 
thenceforth  held  possession  of  the  entire  Graeco- 
Roman  theatre  until  the  fall  of  the  Empire.  The 
irruption  of  the  Barbarians  upon  the  West  made 
an  end  of  the  theatre.  Only  the  mimi  survived, 
and  they  did  so  by  returning  to  their  primitive 
original  function  of  Bav/xaToirowl  and  yeXorrpiroiol. 
Such  were  those  tumblers,  jugglers,  etc.,  of  later 
times  who  went  on  with  the  ancient  art  of  the 
mimus.  It  was  thus  that  the  mime  of  antiquity 
was  enabled  to  survive  the  Middle  Ages  and  reach 
modern  days  alive.  In  the  Greek  East  the  mime 
was  not  subjected  to  the  same  strain.  For  cen- 
turies the  Byzantines  clung  to  the  classic  dramatic 
mimes  of  Philistion.  They  also  produced  a  large 
number  of  mimographs,  and  a  number  of  new 
mimic  types  and  figures  were  added  to  the  old 
stock  inherited  from  classical  times.  Here,  as  in 
the  West,  the  regular  classical  drama  had  long 
since  disappeared  from  the  stage.  When  Byzantium 
fell,  the  remains  of  Greek  culture  took  refuge  in 
Italy,  to  reappear  there  at  the  Renaissance.  Only 
the  mime  remained,  and  in  a  debased  form  survives 
to-day  in  the  Turkish  popular  drama  known  as  the 
karagbz.  Two  distinguishing  features  of  the  mime 
from  beginning  to  end  and  in  all  its  types  and 
variations  have  been  the  mimic  dance  and  the 
wearing  of  the  phallus.  The  mime  of  all  times  and 
forms  is  also  realistic ;  the  very  name  implies  it. 
Of  course,  all  poetry  was  properly  defined  as 
/itfiTjo-is,  but  the  mime  was  felt  to  represent  a  specific 
type  ;  to  give  the  substance  of  Diomedes'  definition 
(i.  491  K),  it  was  realism  unmitigated  and  un- 
diluted. We  get  an  idea  of  the  relentless  realism 
of  the  mime  when  we  see  how  much  of  it  is  still 
left  in  the  refined  literary  representatives  of  it 
furnished  by  Theocritus  and  Herondas.  Without 
the  restraint  of  higher  genius  and  literary  form,  it 
was  easy  for  the  realism  of  the  mime  to  sink  to 
mere  obscenity  and  its  wit  to  mere  dullness. 

The  realism  of  the  mime  is  also  seen  in  its 
characters.  Many  of  them,  perhaps  all,  were 
creations  of  the  ancient  folk-mime,  and  had  long 
been  familiar  to  all  classes  from  this  source.  As 
early  perhaps  as  the  6th  or  7th  cent.  B.C.  we  have 
the  first  development  of  this  species  of  folk-com- 
position by  quasi-professionals,  those  davixaToirmol, 
jugglers,  rope-dancers,  ventriloquists,  and  other 
homeless  nomads  who  had  been  wandering  about 
through  Greece  and  elsewhere  from  time  imme- 
morial. They  must  soon  have  seen  the  advantage 
of  the  mimic  dance,  and  of  the  mime  itself,  whether 
spoken  or  sung,  for  getting  together  an  audience. 
In  this  way,  thinks  Reich,  sprang  up  a  new  pro- 
fession, that  of  the  wandering  mimi. 

Among  all  the  varieties  of  dramatic  composition 


DRAMA  (Roman) 


903 


the  mime  was  the  lowest,  as  it  were,  in  the  social 
scale.  The  same  was  true  of  the  actors.  Even  the 
players  of  the  kithara  and  flute  were  admitted  to 
the  Dionysiac  gild,  but  never  the  mimus  ;  he  was 
always  looked  down  upon  by  his  more  distinguished 
colleagues.  The  difference  was  marked  from  the 
first  by  the  fact  that  the  actors  wore  no  masks, 
and  that  women's  parts  were  taken  by  women. 
Doubtless,  this  was  inherited  from  their  early  days 
as  j  ugglers,  but  the  '  regulars '  even  in  their  own 
later  and  evil  days  would  never  join  the  mimi  on 
account  of  the  women. 

A  convenient  division  of  the  mime  as  a  whole  is 
afforded  by  the  words  iralyviov  and  vir68eai.s.  The 
mimic  inrbBeais  is  the  developed  mimic  drama,  the 
regular  dramatic  mime  j  the  Tralyvwv  is  everything 
below  it,  i.e.  hilarodia,  magodia,  etc.,  mentioned 
above,  kinaidologia,  Ionikologia,  ^AiWes,  even  the 
works  of  Sophron,  etc.,  none  of  which  were  regular 
dramas.  Frequently  the  iralyviov  is  what  we  should 
call  a  music-hall  '  turn.'  It  was  extremely  popular 
in  both  Greece  and  Rome  ;  and  there  were  many 
varieties,  such  as  educated  animals  (Vopiscus, 
Carinus,  19  ;  Plutarch,  de  Sollert.  Anim.  19,  etc.), 
and  special  feats  of  imitation.  Imitation  of  pigs 
seems  to  have  been  particularly  popular  (Phaedrus, 
v.  5  ;  Plutarch,  Mor.  674  B  ;  Parcem.  Grcec.  ii.  84, 
etc.).  Plato  (Rep.  iii.  8)  speaks  of  performers  who 
could  give  perfect  imitations  of  animals,  the  sound 
of  running  water,  the  sea,  thunder,  etc.  See  also 
Friedlander's  Petronius,  1891,  pp.  64,  68,  69,  and 
293  (note).  These  varieties  of  ,u(/n)<ris  are  eternally 
popular. 

The  most  important  figure  in  the  history  of  the 
department  is  Philistion,  who  lived  and  wrote  in 
Rome  during  the  1st  cent.  A.D.  He  is  the  classic 
of  the  mimic  vtSBwis,  the  regular  dramatic  mime ; 
hence  the  comparison  of  him  with  Menander,  the 
classic  of  the  New  Comedy.1  The  statement  of 
Cassiodorus  (Var.  iv.  21),  that  he  invented  the 
(dramatic)  mime,  is  doubtless  due  to  the  fact  that 
he  was  the  first  to  write  it  all  out,  i.e.  the  dialogue 
as  well  as  the  songs.  Evidently  he  was  the  cul- 
mination of  the  mime  among  the  Greeks.  But  the 
beginnings  of  it  take  us  back  to  pre-historic  times. 
The  mime  of  Sicily  and  Italy  came  from  the  Pelo- 
ponnesus with  the  early  Dorian  settlers.  It  was 
extremely  popular  in  Sicilian  Megara  and  Syracuse. 
Tarentum  was  especially  fond  of  the  Italic  mime, 
the  </>Avaf.  All  these  cities  were  founded  near  the 
beginning  of  the  8th  cent.  B.C. 

The  original  kernel  of  the  mime,  the  source  from 
which  it  sprang,  was  the  mimic  dance,  the  begin- 
nings of  which  belonged  to  the  Stone  Age,  and  may 
be  seen  to-day  among  all  peoples  who  still  belong 
to  that  stage  of  civilization.  The  ancients  never 
forgot  the  connexion  between  the  two.  The  mimic 
dance  survived  in  all  types,  and  the  mimus  himself 
was  always  a  trained  dancer.  The  kinaidologi,  for 
instance,  were  originally  dancers  who  thus  accom- 
panied their  dcr/iara  luvitca  (ef .  Petron.  23) ;  Hesychius 
describes  the  magodia  itself  as  Hpxw™  airaX-q,  the 
Romans  designated  the  action  of  the  inr6detns  by 
saltare,  and  the  actresses  were  known  as  salta- 
triculm.  The  use  of  gesticulatorius  in  the  same 
connexion  indicates  the  kind  of  dance. 

The  development  of  troupes  of  regular  profes- 
sional mimi  from  the  old  wandering  7eXtiiro7roio£  of 
primitive  times  seems  to  have  taken  place  about 
the  3rd  cent.  B.C.  These  primitive  ancestors  of  the 
mediaeval  jongleurs  had  gradually  taken  up  all  the 
types  and  themes  of  the  old  rustic  mime.  They 
travelled  everywhere,  they  were  great  favourites 
at  the  court  of  Philip,  and  hordes  of  them  followed 
Alexander  into  Asia   Minor.      Here   the  Dorian 

1  5iryKpi<7is  Me^avSpou  kcu  <t»iAi<rriWos,  ed.  Boissonade,  Anecd. 
Gneca,  1829,  i.  147-152 ;  and  by  Studemund,  Lektionskatalog, 
Breslau,  1887. 


mime  met  the  Ionian  mime,  and  the  result  was  the 
i>7r60ecrts,  the  regular  dramatic  mime.  The  Dorian 
mime  was  originally  prose  (hence  Sophron),  al- 
though great  artists  like  Epicharmus  put  it  into 
metre.  The  dramatic  mime  (i/7r60e<ris),  however, 
was  noted  for  its  cantica,  and  this  combination  of 
Dorian  prose  (mimologia) and  Ionian  song  (mimodia) 
is  what  ensured  the  lasting  success  of  the  dramatic 
mime.  Great  emphasis  was  laid  upon  mimodia, 
and  this  brings  the  dramatic  mime  near  to  the 
modern  opera  or  operetta.  In  this  way,  too,  we 
get  a  substitute  for  the  missing  chorus  of  the 
Palliata.  Plautus  took  over  mimodia,  and  the 
result  is  the  mimic  canticum  of  his  comedies. 
Pomponius  and  Novius  seem  to  have  done  the  same 
thing  for  their  Atellance. 

Now,  the  Ionian  mimodia  itself,  like  the  inr68ecns, 
throughout  its  entire  history,  falls  into  a  mytho- 
logical and  a  'biological'  type  (cf.  Aristox.  ap. 
Athen.  xiv.  621 C),  the  one,  hilarodia  (and  Lysiodia), 
dealing  with  mythology  and  the  gods  (paratragic 
and  burlesque),  the  other,  magodia,  with  real  life. 
Both  were  entirely  melic,  and  in  both  singing  was 
accompanied  and  supported  by  mimic  dance  and 
gesture  ;  but  the  accompaniment  of  hilarodia  was 
stringed  instruments,  of  magodia,  drums  and 
cymbals  (Athen.  620  D-621  D),  and  the  choice  of 
instruments  itself  indicates  that  the  dancing  of  the 
latter  was  much  freer  and  more  lascivious. 

Hilarodia  and  magodia  were  wide-spread  and 
very  popular  in  Ionia,  and  acquired  literary  form 
— hilarodia  through  Simos  of  Magnesia,  magodia 
through  Lysis.  Hence  these  new  literary  types 
were  called  after  their  founders  Simodia  (hilarodia) 
and  Lysiodia  (magodia).  Through  famous  poets 
and  a  regular  class  of  actors  these  two  types  of 
Ionian  mimodia  survived  into  Roman  times.  Sulla's 
friend  Metrobius  was  an  actor  of  the  Lysiodia. 

Kinaidologia,  or  Ionikologia,  was  another  type 
of  the  Ionian  mime.  This  was  not  really  sung, 
although  accompanied  by  the  mimic  dance  (hence 
it  was  more  mimologia  than  mimodia).  This  also 
was  very  popular  in  Ionia,  and  was  cultivated  by 
such  famous  poets  as  Sotades,  Alexander  Aetolus, 
Pigres,  etc. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  we  have  an  unbroken 
connexion  between  the  mimic-dramatic  dances  of 
the  primitive  Greeks,  the  ancient  folk-mimes  of 
the  Dorians,  the  Italic  ^Xiiases  of  the  8th  cent.  B.C., 
and  the  dramatic  mime  of  later  times  (not  only  in 
its  popular  form,  but  in  its  literary  form  ;  Laberius 
and  Syrus  on  the  Latin  side,  Philistion  and  his 
successors  on  the  Greek  side). 

The  relation  of  Rome  to  Greece  in  the  matter  of 
the  mime  now  becomes  more  definite.  Antiodemis 
(Antipater  Sidon.  Anth.  Pal.  ix.  567),  the  actress  of 
Lysiodia,  came  to  Rome  in  the  2nd  cent.  B.C.  ; 
Metrobius,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  1st  cent.  B.C. 
In  211  B.C.  an  old  mimus  (Festus,  326)  danced  to 
the  flute  in  the  Roman  theatre.  His  dance  was  an 
intermezzo,  but  his  mere  presence  shows  that  the 
mimi  had  already  reached  Rome.  The  mimi  who 
satirized  Lucilius  and  Accius  (150  B.C.)  from  the 
stage  were  following  an  old-established  custom  of 
the  dramatic  mime  (iir6$e<Tts).  The  fact  that  they 
took  such  liberties  shows  that  even  then  they  must 
have  been  in  Rome  for  a  long  time.  The  satire  in 
question  must  have  taken  place  at  the  Floralia 
(April  28-May  3),  which  was  the  special  feast  at 
which  mimes  were  given.  The  Floralia  were  first 
celebrated  in  238  B.C.,  and  every  year  after  173. 
It  is  quite  possible  that  the  mime  was  connected 
with  this  feast  from  the  first.  In  that  case,  the 
dramatic  mime,  which  was  established  in  the  Greek 
East  by  the  3rd  cent.  B.C.,  was  already  settled  in 
Rome  in  connexion  with  the  Floralia  by  the  end 
of  the  same  century.  Thus  we  see  how  the  mimodic 
portion  of  the  dramatic  mime  was  the  suggestion 


904 


DRAMA  (Roman) 


of  the  cantica  of  Plautus  and  Csecilius  Statius. 
The  introduction  of  the  mime  and  of  mimi  at  that 
time  was  facilitated  by  the  fall  of  Tarentum  in  272, 
and  by  the  fact  that  in  190  Scipio  Asiaticus  returned 
from  Antioch,  a  centre  of  the  dramatic  mime,  just 
as  long  afterwards  Verus  (Capitol,  viii.  7)  came  back 
from  his  Parthian  campaign  with  shiploads  of  mimi. 

The  early  mimi,  of  course,  acted  in  Greek,  and 
the  scama  Grceca  remained  in  Rome  until  Theo- 
doric.1  One  is  reminded  of  such  modern  parallels 
as  the  Th&atre  italien  in  Paris,  etc.  The  Latin 
mime  was  a  copy  of  the  Greek  (technical  terms, 
rules,  etc.).2 

Having  traced  the  history  of  the  department  as 
a  whole,  let  us  pause  a  moment  upon  the  fully 
developed  dramatic  mime  of  the  best  period.  We 
have  already  seen  that  it  inherited  dialogue  in 
prose  and  iambic  verse,  also  lyric  portions  {cantica), 
accompanied  by  music  and  the  traditional  mimic 
dance.  The  same  principle  also  justified  the  intro- 
duction of  iratyvia,  such  as  trained  animals,  imita- 
tions, etc.  In  plot,  too,  and  in  length  it  was  fully 
equal  to  the  old  classical  drama  ;  in  compass  and 
variety  it  was  superior. 

A  good  example  of  the  type  is  an  old  favourite,  well  known  to 
Ovid,  and  still  popular  in  the  days  of  Chrysostom  and  Chorikios.3 
The  name  of  the  piece  has  not  survived ;  we  might,  however,  for 
convenience  call  it  Divorcons,  aa  it  is  an  early  exploitation  of  the 
inevitable  *  triangle.'  In  the  first  scene  we  have  the  facile  young 
wife  and  the  jealous  husband.  Then  the  lover,  the  cultus  adul- 
ter as  he  is  called,  appears,  and  with  the  help  of  Thymele's 
faithful  abigail,  the  cata  carissa,  gains  an  interview  with  her 
mistress  in  the  absence  of  Corinthus.  In  the  following  scenes 
the  jealous  husband  is  subjected  to  all  sorts  of  tricks  and  mysti- 
fications, artes  mimicce.  Finally,  the  lover  has  to  hide  from  him 
in  a  large  chest  (perituri  cista  Latini).  He  is  discovered.  The 
husband,  breathing  fire,  tells  the  slave  to  fetch  him  a  knife, 
large  and  very  sharp,  as  he  proposes  to  render  the  cultus  adulter 
harmless.  Then  he  changes  his  mind,  and  decides  to  air  his 
wrongs  in  court.  Then  comes  the  court  scene,  and  the  piece  is 
brought  to  an  end  in  some  farcical  fashion. 

The  final  tableau  of  Divorcons  requires  not  only  the  three 
principal  characters  and  the  judge  to  be  on  the  stage  at  the  same 
time,  but  also  a  throng  of  slaves,  witnesses,  court  officials,  super- 
numeraries, etc.  Other  plays  show  even  more  clearly  that  in  the 
mime,  as  in  the  modern  drama,  with  which,  in  fact,  it  has  much 
in  common,  the  actor  played  but  one  part  and  the  number  was 
unrestricted.  It  is  also  clear  that  the  *  unities '  were  dis- 
regarded. 

Variety  in  form  was  accompanied  by  variety  in 
characters.  True  to  its  composite  origin,  the  mime 
is  hospitable  to  all,  from  thieves  and  prostitutes  to 
emperors  and  gods.4  The  same  was  true  of  cos- 
tume. The  Stupidus,  or  clown  (a  typical  character 
inherited  from  the  primitive  stock),  wore  the 
regular  clown's  costume,  the  centunculus  (cf.  the 
mediaeval  'motley'),  a  shaved  head,  an  apex,  a 
mimic  club  (like  Maccus  and  Bajazzo),  and  always 
the  phallus.  The  old  women,  too,  wore  a  burlesque 
costume.  Otherwise,  as  in  the  modern  drama,  the 
dress  was  according  to  the  character  and  the 
situations. 

So,  too,  the  whole  gamut  of  human  emotions 
was  played  upon :  comic  and  tragic,  humour  and 
sentiment,  go  hand  in  hand,  as  in  the  Romantic 
comedy  of  the  Elizabethan  Age.  The  titles  of 
Laberius  suggest  realistic  plots  for  the  most  part. 
It  is  doubtful,  however,  whether  such  mimes  as 
his  Necyomantia  and  Lacus  Avernus  were  alto- 
gether realistic.  In  fact,  even  when  the  mime 
dealt  with  contemporary  life  and  was  purely 
realistic,  great  emphasis  was  laid  on  the  unusual, 
strange,  and  astonishing.  Nothing  indicates  more 
clearly  the  really  popular  origin  of  the  mime.5  A 
favourite  character  was  the  beggar  who  suddenly 

1  Cicero,  Fam.  vii.  1  ;  Sueton.  Jul.  39,  etc. 

2  See  Reich,  op,  tit.  p.  561  f.,  for  details. 

3  Ovid,  Trist.  ii.  497  f.,  etc. ;  Juvenal,  viii.  196,  vi.  42  ;  Chrysost. 
ii.  318.  13;  Chorikios  (Reich,  p.  204  ff.).  In  Juvenal's  time  the 
wife  was  acted  by  Thymele,  the  husband  by  Corinthus,  the  lover 
by  Latinus.  They  were  all  famous  'artists.'  Thymele  well 
might  be  called  the  Mrs.  Bracegirdle  of  the  Flavian  period. 

4  See  esp.  Cyprian,  de  Spect.  6.  Many  titles  of  Laberius  and 
Syrus  speak  for  themselves  in  this  respect. 

5  The  Latin  mimes  were  carefully  studied  in  the  rhetorical 
schools  during  and  after  the  Augustan  Age.    To  this  fact  is  due 


becomes  rich  (Cic.  Phil.  ii.  27) ;  another,  the  rich 
man  who  becomes  a  beggar  (Sen.  Epist.  113.  6). 
Shipwreck  was  a  favourite  motif  (Sen.  Dial.  iv.  2,  5 ; 
Petron.  114  and  115).  The  Laureolus,  a  favourite 
mime  of  Domitian's  time,  gave  the  romantic  ad- 
ventures of  a  robber  chieftain,  and  ended  with  his 
execution.  Especially  characteristic  of  the  mime 
was  some  serious  crime,  something  unusual  and 
horrible,  like  parricide  or  incest  or  poisoning. 
Trials  for  perjury  or  poisoning  are  frequent,  and 
generally  serve  for  the  denouement.  An  interest- 
ing example,  which  will  also  illustrate  the  part 
occasionally  taken  by  animals  (cf.  such  titles  of 
Laberius  as  Catularius  and  Scylax,  and  see  Petron. 
95),  is  given  by  Plutarch,  de  Sollert.  Anim.  ix.  7. 

This  was  a  mime  with  a  large  number  of  characters  and  a 
complicated  plot,  which  he  saw  in  the  theatre  of  Marcellus. 
Vespasian  himself  was  present.  The  intrigue  centred  in  what 
purported  to  be  a  poison,  but  was  in  reality  a  sleeping  potion. 
As  in  the  case  of  Juliet,  whoever  took  it  apparently  died,  but 
after  a  time  revived.  One  of  the  star  actors  was  a  trained  dog, 
and  the  most  important  incident  of  the  mime,  because  it  doubt- 
less led  to  the  denouement,  was  trying  the  effect  of  the  supposed 
poison  upon  him.  As  soon  as  he  had  eaten  the  piece  of  bread 
upon  which  the  poison  had  been  placed,  he  began  to  tremble 
and  stagger,  his  head  grew  heavy,  and  he  finally  stiffened  out 
as  if  dead,  and  allowed  himself  to  be  carried  about  in  that  state. 
When  it  was  time  to  recover,  he  imitated  perfectly  all  the  phases 
of  returning  consciousness,  and,  while  the  actors  indicated  their 
astonishment  at  the  fact  that  the  supposed  victim  of  a  deadly 
dose  had  come  to  life  again,  the  dog  himself  ran  to  his  master 
and  joyously  fawned  upon  him. 

The  connexion  of  this  incident  with  the  plot  is  not  stated,  but 
we  may  believe  with  Reich  that  there  was  a  connexion,  and  that 
the  probable  nature  of  it  is  illustrated  by  (the  mime  from  which 
was  derived?)  the  famous  story  of  Apuleius,  Met.  10.  2.  A  rich 
old  grandee  took  for  a  second  wife  a  young  and  very  beautiful 
woman.  She  fell  violently  in  love  with  her  stepson,  but  was 
rejected  by  him,  and  her  passion  was  turned  to  hatred.  (Note 
that  this  motif  has  been  a  popular  favourite  ever  since  the 
days  of  Joseph  and  Hippolytus.  It  appears  constantly  in  folk- 
tradition,  in  the  mime,  in  that  echo  of  the  mime,  the  rhetorical 
controversies  and  suasorice,  in  the  Italian  novelle,  etc.)  A  slave 
procures  her  a  sudden  and  deadly  poison,  she  drops  it  in  a  cup 
of  wine,  and  the  pair  leave  it  where  the  young  man  will  take  it 
without  arousing  suspicion.  Presently,  however,  her  own  son 
returns  from  school,  and,  being  thirsty— as  small  boys  always  are 
— drinks  the  wine  and  falls  dead  on  the  spot.  (Here  is  the  un- 
expected turn  of  fortune  which  the  mime,  that  faithful  inter- 
preter of  the  popular  mind,  so  dearly  loves.) 

It  is,  of  course,  clear  to  all  that  the  child  has  died  of  poison. 
The  woman  accuses  her  stepson  of  the  deed,  and  alleges  as  a 
cause  that  he  had  attempted  incest  with  herself.  The  young 
man  is  arrested,  there  is  a  great  trial  scene  in  court,  and,  after 
much  oratory  on  both  sides,  he  is  condemned  to  death.  At  this 
point,  however,  we  have  another  unexpected  turn.  An  old 
judge,  who  is  also  a  skilful  physician,  has  been  quietly  listening 
to  the  trial  all  this  time.  At  this  point  he  rises  to  his  feet  and 
informs  the  court  that  he  himself  had  sold  the  drug  to  the  slave, 
and  that  it  is  not  a  poison  at  all,  but  a  sleeping  potion.  '  Let  us 
go  now  to  the  tomb,' said  he,  *the  child  will  soon  be  waking 
up.'  Thus  the  woman's  guilt  was  discovered  ;  but,  true  to  the 
mime,  she  was  merely  turned  adrift,  not  executed. 

Another  plot  eminently  characteristic  of  the  mime  is  PhaBdrus, 
App.  xiv.  '  The  two  suitors,'  which  reappears  in  an  old  French 
fabliau  known  as  '  Le  vair  Palefroi,'  '  The  grey  Horse.' 

This  is  Romantic  comedy.  So,  too,  the  mime 
takes  us  into  the  world  of  phantasy.  Witches, 
warlocks,  magicians,  prophets,  ghosts,  are  all 
favourite  characters.  In  the  old  Dorian  mime 
popular  demons  were  presented,  and  the  meta- 
morphosis of  men  into  animals,  which  is  well 
attested  for  the  mime  of  all  periods,  takes  us 
straight  into  the  fantastic  land  of  '  the  Frog  King,' 
of  'Beauty  and  the  Beast,'  of  'the  Golden  Crab,' 
of  'the  Three  Citrons/  and  the  like.  In  this 
function  the  mime  is  a  curiously  complete  proto- 
type of  Carlo  Gozzi's  famous  experiment  with  the 
fairy  tales  of  Italy.  To  the  same  category  belong 
the  mythological  mimes,  Priapus,  Anna  Perenna, 
Anubis  Moechus,1  Kinyras  and Myrrha  (Jos.  Ant. 

the  survival  of  the  Sententue  of  Syrus.  These  were  extracted 
from  his  mimes  at  an  early  date,  and  published  as  a  sort  of  vade- 
mecum  for  the  use  of  students  and  professors,  from  which  might 
be  drawn  those  sententious  observations  so  dearly  loved  by  the 
rhetoric  of  the  Silver  Age.  For  those  who  wish  to  recover  the 
plots,  scenes,  and  motifs  most  characteristic  of  the  mime,  the 
practice  declamations  of  the  rhetorical  schools  probably  afford 
the  richest  field  for  investigation. 

l  See  esp.  Zielinski,  Die  Mdrckenkomddie  in  Athen,  St.  Peters- 
burg, 1885 ;  Weinreich,  Trug  des  Nektanebos,  Leipzig,  1911,  p.  25. 


DRAMA  (Roman) 


905 


XIX.  i.  15),  Paris  and  CEnone  (cf.  Suet.  Dom.  19), 
Philistion's  Deukalion  and  Pyrrha,  etc. 

It  will  be  seen  that  in  form  and  type  the  mime 
was  not  subject  to  the  restrictions  of  the  classical 
drama  most  familiar  to  us.  It  may  be  added  that 
the  same  was  true  of  many  details  of  its  presenta- 
tion. First  and  most  important,  the  actors,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  never  wore  masks.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  explain  what  this  means  for  dramatic 
art.  The  mimus  wore  his  own  face  only  ;  indeed, 
one  of  the  principal  characters  of  the  mime  was 
known  in  Latin  as  Sannio  (Cic.  de  Oral.  ii.  61),  i.e. 
'  the  man  who  makes  faces ' — a  speciality  of  the 
mime.1  So,  too,  as  we  have  seen,  only  in  the  mime 
were  women's  parts  always  taken  by  women.  And, 
as  there  was  no  restriction  of  type,  the  characters 
included  women  of  all  ages  and  kinds.  It  is 
characteristic  of  the  mime  as  a  whole,  however, 
that  old  women  should  be  a  speciality.  This 
enabled  a  talented  actress  to  keep  on  indefinitely 
(Pliny,  HN  vii.  48). 

The  original  stage  of  the  mime,  as  we  see  from 
old  vase  paintings  of  the  0\iWes,2  was  a  platform 
on  props  about  three  feet  from  the  ground,  and 
with  steps  in  front  by  which  the  actor  mounted. 
Change  to  the  regular  stage  was  very  slow.  With 
the  beginning  of  the  theatres  the  mime  was  acted 
on  a  small  platform  in  the  orchestra  and  in  front 
of  the  regular  stage.  It  was  thus  given  as  an 
emboliarium  (Diomed.  490)  or  intermezzo.  The 
next  step  was  to  the  regular  stage,  upon  which  in 
Cicero's  time  the  mime  took  the  place  of  the 
Attllana  as  an  exodium  (Cic.  Fam.  ix.  16).  At 
the  Floralia,  however,  it  had  always  been  acted 
independently,  and  it  gradually  drew  away  from 
its  function  as  an  exodium  (Diomed.  491  f.),  until 
in  the  early  Empire  it  took  to  the  regular  stage, 
upon  which,  together  with  the  pantomime,  it 
finally  ruled  alone.  One  distinction,  however, 
survived.  The  mime  was  acted  in  front  of  the 
siparium,  and  it  was  through  this  that  the  actors 
made  their  exits  and  entrances.  The  stage  was 
dressed  as  in  Shakespeare's  time,  but,  as  also  in 
Shakespeare's  time,  there  was  no  scene-shifting. 
Claudian  (Epig.  Graze.  6)  shows  that  there  was, 
as  we  might  assume,  a  regular  corps  de  ballet. 
Doubtless  it  filled  the  same  place  and  did  much 
the  same  thing  as  in  our  times. 

In  view  of  what  has  been  said,  it  is  not  difficult 
to  understand  why  the  fully  developed  dramatic 
mime,  in  spite  of  its  faults,  finally  ruled  alone.  If 
the  drama  springs  from  the  people,  and  if  its 
highest  function  is  to  represent  their  life  and 
their  point  of  view,  then  the  dramatic  mime  has 
a  greater  right  to  be  called  the  national  drama 
of  the  Grseco-Roman  world  than  has  the  classical 
drama  of  Greece  or  its  short-lived  and  always 
more  or  less  exotic  representative  in  Rome.  It  is 
likely  that  Quintilian's  verdict  of  '  in  comoedia 
maxime  claudieamus'  might  have  been  applied 
with  equal  justice  to  the  Roman  tragedy.  Cicero 
was  a  notorious  lover  of  the  mime,  a  man  of  judg- 
ment and  taste  in  such  matters,  if  there  ever  was 
one.  It  is  true,  of  course,  that  the  mime  was  the 
drama  of  the  age,  and  that  the  age  was  an  age  of 
realism.  For  that  reason  alone  the  average  man 
of  to-day  would  doubtless  have  agreed  with  him. 
But,  after  all,  the  realism  of  Cicero's  time,  how- 
ever relentless,  was  not  the  realism  of  our  time. 
The  mimograph  of  those  days,  realist  though  he 
was,  still  possessed  the  vivid  imagination,  the 
nimble  fancy,  and,  therefore,  the  sentiment  of  his 
race  and  time — those  qualities  without  which  the 
bubbling  well  -  spring  of  humour  and  invention 
must  soon  dry  up.     Moreover,  his  audience  was 

1  Quint,  vi.  3,  8;  the  epitaph  of  the  mimus  Vitalis,  in  Anth. 
Lat.  487a,  R.  etc. 

2  See  Bethe,  op.  cit.  ch.  13.  for  the  full  discussion. 


endowed  with  the  same  qualities.  It  still  believed 
in  ghosts  and  magic,  it  still  had  a  folk-lore,  it 
still  possessed  an  incomparably  rich  mythology. 
Hence  the  real  world  of  antiquity  finds  its  parallel 
in  the  age  of  Elizabeth  rather  than  in  our  own. 
It  was  only  partially  real  after  all.  And  so  the 
mime,  like  the  Elizabethan  '  tragi-comedy,'  was 
now  wildly  humorous,  now  fantastically  horrible. 
The  Romantic  and  the  real,  humour  and  pathos, 
comic  and  tragic,  fact  and  fancy — all  these  and 
more  were  called  upon  to  picture  a  life  which, 
real  as  it  once  was,  is  no  longer  ours  and  will 
never  be  ours  again. 

The  dramatic  mime,  however,  seems  never  to 
have  taken  its  position  as  a  great  literary  depart- 
ment. In  the  long  run  the  habit  of  leaving  the 
dialogue  to  the  actors  proved  to  be  inveterate, 
and  this  alone  would  have  been  fatal.  But  the 
most  serious  menace  to  the  mime  was  its  own 
splendid  inheritance  of  versatility.  Dialogue  and 
plot,  music,  singing,  dancing,  an  occasional  weak- 
ness for  '  specialities ' — the  combination  is  un- 
stable, and,  except  in  the  hands  of  a  great  genius 
like  Philistion,  one  or  another  was  sure  to  be 
magnified  at  the  expense  of  the  rest.  Audiences 
are  uncritical,  playwrights  are  human,  actors  are 
— actors.  Between  the  three  the  mime  of  the  4th 
cent.  A.D.  no  doubt  deserved  the  adverse  criticism 
bestowed  upon  it  by  Donatus  and  Cassiodorus. 
But,  whatever  its  faults  and  virtues,  the  vitality 
of  the  mime  was  amazing.  Time  and  change, 
national  ruin,  ecclesiastical  fulmination  and  ana- 
thema— nothing  could  prevail  against  it.  We 
cannot  ignore  a  dramatic  type  which  finally 
ousted  both  Euripides  and  Menander  from  the 
stage,  and  ruled  alone  for  over  half  a  millennium. 

8.  State  control  of  the  theatre. — The  Roman 
theatre,1  like  the  Roman  play,  and,  for  the  most 
part,  the  details  of  its  presentation,  were  a  con- 
tinuation and  development  of  the  Greek  proto- 
types as  they  existed  in  the  Alexandrian  period. 
All  derive  ultimately  from  the  one  fact  that  the 
Roman  play,  like  its  predecessor,  was  clearly  and 
distinctly  an  act  of  worship  to  the  gods.  It  was, 
therefore,  given  at  festivals,  more  especially  at 
those  festivals  which  the  State  religion,  hence  the 
State  itself,  had  set  apart  for  purposes  of  public 
worship.  The  plays  were  merely  one  item  of  the 
ritual  observed.  Other  items  were  the  races, 
gladiatorial  combats,  etc.,  which  gave  the  general 
name  of  ludi  to  these  occasions.  In  the  time  of 
Augustus,  the  regular  annual  ludi,  during  which 
plays  were  given,  were  the  Megalenses  (April 
4-10),  the  Ceriales  (April  12-19),  the  Florales 
(April  28-May  3),  the  Apollinares  (July  6-13), 
the  Romani  (Sept.  4-19),  the  Plebeii  (Nov.  4-17). 
Other  ludi  of  the  Augustan  Age,  during  which 
plays  were  or  could  be  given,  were  generally 
sporadic  and  meant  to  commemorate  some  special 
occasion,  such  as  a  great  victory  or  the  death  of 
some  distinguished  man.  Later  in  the  Empire  the 
tendency  to  increase  the  regular  annual  ludi  be- 
came very  marked,  and  serious  attempts  to  reduce 
the  number  were  made  by  several  of  the  Emperors, 
notably  Nerva,  Septimius  Severus,  and  Macrinus. 
Nevertheless,  according  to  the  calendar  of  354,  not 
less  than  175  days  in  the  year  were  given  to  ludi, 
and  101  of  this  number  to  plays. 

The  play  was  managed  by  the  State.  It  is  true 
that  ludi  were  given  by  persons  more  or  less  in 
private  life,  but  they  were  still  an  act  of  worship, 
the  consent  of  the  State  had  first  to  be  secured, 
and,  lastly,  they  were  supposed  to  be  under  the 

1  The  best  authority  for  Rome  here  is  L.  Friedlander  in 
Marquardt-Mommsen's  Handbuch  der  rbm.  Altertiimer,  vi. 
[1886]  482 f.  See  also  G.  Oehmichen,  'Das  Biihnenwesen  der 
Griechen  und  Romer,'  in  Miiller's  Handbuch  der  klass.  Alter- 
tumswisstnschaft,  Munich,  1890,  v.  3,  pp.  181-304.  For  colours 
in  theatrical  tradition,  see  especially  Donatue.  de  Com<zdia. 


906 


DRAMA  (Roman) 


general  supervision  of  State  officials.  At  no  time 
apparently  was  the  antique  theatre  a  purely  pri- 
vate enterprise;  still  less  was  it  ever  a  purely 
financial  one.  One  or  two  exceptions  under  the 
Empire  are  mentioned  by  Tacitus,  but  with  such 
disapprobation  that  they  illustrate  rather  than 
invalidate  the  rule. 

Until  the  time  of  Augustus  five  of  the  six  great 
annual  ludi  mentioned  above  were  in  charge  of 
the  various  sediles.  The  sixth,  the  Apollinares, 
which  occurred  in  July,  was  managed  by  the 
prwtor  urbanus.  The  officer  in  charge  had  every- 
thing to  do.  Indeed,  in  earlier  times,  as  we  learn 
from  Plautus,  he  even  attended  to  the  matter  of 
costumes.  He  also  built  the  theatre,  and  after- 
wards had  to  clear  it  away  and  put  the  place  in 
order.  Oddly  enough,  Rome  never  seems  to  have 
had  but  two  permanent  theatres — the  theatre  of 
Pompey,  built  in  55,  and  the  theatre  of  Marcellus, 
which  belongs  to  the  Augustan  Age.  The  sedile 
also  had  charge  of  the  audience  during  the  per- 
formance. In  this  he  was  assisted  by  his  corps  of 
designatores,  or  ushers.  The  designator,  how- 
ever, was  a  vastly  more  important  person  than 
is  the  modern  usher.  He  was  a  regular  deputy  of 
the  civil  magistrate  in  charge,  and  as  such  the 
majesty  of  the  law  was  with  him.  He  had  lictors, 
and  was  expected  to  move  or  remove  people  when- 
ever necessary.  In  the  2nd  cent.,  as  we  learn 
from  the  jurist  TJlpian,  this  office  was  in  the  gift 
of  the  Emperor,  and  was  of  great  value.  The 
jedile  had  a  regular  sum  allowed  him  from  the 
State  treasury  to  meet  the  bills  incurred.  But 
this  lucar,  as  it  was  called,  had  been  fixed  as 
early  as  the  Second  Punic  War,  and  was  far  from 
keeping  pace  with  the  growing  expenses  of  the 
function  for  which  it  was  designed.  Nevertheless, 
the  office  of  sedile  as  maitre  deplaisir  made  one  so 
prominent  and  popular  that  it  was  much  sought 
after  by  the  aristocracy  as  a  means  to  further 
advancement,  and  they  spent  fabulous  sums  in 
giving  the  shows  devolving  upon  them.  But  at 
the  accession  of  Augustus  no  patricians  could  be 
found  who  were  willing  to  accept  the  office.  He, 
therefore,  transferred  the  management  of  theat- 
rical matters  to  the  praetors,  and  this  remained 
the  law  under  the  Empire. 

It  is  well  known  that  one's  seat  at  the  theatre 
was  determined  by  one's  position  in  the  State,  and 
that  it  was  regulated  by  law.  The  theatre  was  a 
religious  institution,  in  charge  of  the  Government. 
Such  being  the  case,  a  seat  at  the  theatre,  like  a 
right  to  vote  or  to  bear  arms,  was  a  privilege  of 
citizenship,  and  therefore  to  be  assigned  according 
to  that  principle.  For  that  reason,  in  the  earlier 
days  of  the  Republic,  slaves  could  not  attend  the 
theatre ;  and  the  same  must  have  been  true  of 
strangers  unless  they  were  guests  of  the  State. 
But  in  the  time  of  Augustus  these  restrictions  had 
ceased  to  be  in  force.  The  law  on  the  subject  of 
seating  as  it  existed  under  the  Empire  rested  for 
the  most  part  upon  enactments  of  Augustus, 
although  these  had  been  largely  anticipated  by 
generations  of  growth  in  Republican  times.  The 
orchestra,  though  the  name  reflecting  its  original 
use  was  and  still  is  retained,  was  set  apart  for  the 
senators.  This  rule  had  been  in  force  since  194 
B.C.  Representatives  of  foreign  States  and,  under 
the  Empire,  certain  members  of  the  reigning  house 
were  allowed  to  sit  here.  The  position  of  the 
knights  was  finally  established  by  the  Lex  Roscia 
Theatralis.  This  famous  law  was  pushed  through 
by  L.  Roscius  Otho,  tribune  of  the  people  in  67 
B.C.  Among  other  things  it  provided  that  the 
property  qualification  of  a  Roman  knight  should 
be  raised  to  400,000  sesterces,  and  that  the  first 
fourteen  rows  behind  the  orchestra  should  be  set 
apart  for  the  exclusive  use  of  this  order.     The  law 


also  provided  that  even  within  these  rows  careful 
distinctions  should  be  made  among  the  knights 
themselves.  For  example,  the  first  two  rows 
were  reserved  for  those  knights  who  had  served 
as  military  tribunes  or  land-commissioners.  The 
younger  knights  also  had  a  separate  section, 
which  under  the  Empire  was  known  as  the  Cuneus 
Germanici.  Even  insolvent  knights,  decoctores, 
were  obliged  to  sit  in  a  group  by  themselves. 

Previous  enactments  were  extended  and  strength- 
ened by  the  Lex  Iidia  Theatralis  of  Augustus. 
This  law,  which  was  much  affected  by  Greek 
theatrical  ordinances,  prescribed  the  place  of 
every  one  in  all  parts  of  the  house.  The  general 
public  sat  according  to  tribus,  or  wards.  But  even 
here  distinctions  were  made — for  instance,  in  fav- 
our of  husbands  and  fathers  as  against  bachelors 
and  spinsters.  The  women,  and  with  them  the 
young  children,  had  to  sit  by  themselves  on  the 
back  rows.  The  one  most  notable  exception  was  the 
Vestals,  who  had  seats  of  honour  near  the  front. 
So  the  various  colleges  of  priests  and  other  officials 
had  seats  of  their  own,  often  of  a  special  form, 
with  backs,  arms,  etc.  Sometimes  a  certain  seat 
was  given  a  man  in  perpetuum,  usually  in  return 
for  distinguished  services  rendered  to  the  State. 
Such  a  seat  was  also  used  by  his  family  and  could 
be  inherited. 

The  usual  time  for  a  play  to  begin  was  early 
in  the  morning.  A  play  of  Plautus,  including  the 
music,  would  take  about  three  hours.  Whether 
two  or  more  should  be  given  in  succession,  as  was 
sometimes  the  case,  was  left  to  the  official  in 
charge.  Plays  were  never  given  at  night  except 
for  ceremonial  reasons.  This  was  always  the  case 
when  mimes  were  acted  at  the  Floralia.  Other 
details,  so  far  as  they  bear  upon  the  present 
discussion,  have  already  been  dealt  with  else- 
where. 

9.  The  Roman  drama  not  truly  national. — In 
view  of  what  has  been  said  in  the  previous  pages, 
we  might  perhaps  conclude  that  as  a  literary  pro- 
duction the  life  of  the  Roman  drama  was  surpris- 
ingly brief,  its  great  authors  comparatively  few, 
its  genuine  popularity  problematical.  We  cannot 
agree,  however,  that  the  reasons  for  it  were  that 
the  Palliata  died  of  too  much  Greek,  that  the 
mimic  sorrows  of  the  tragedy  could  not  appeal  to 
an  audience  steeped  in  the  bloody  realities  of  the 
arena,  that  idealism  does  not  and  cannot  reach  a 
generation  of  realists.  These  are  all  true,  but 
they  are  symptoms,  not  causes.  There  were 
plenty  of  men  in  the  Golden  Age  of  Pericles  who 
preferred  cock-fighting  to  comedy,  and  athletics 
to  iEschylus.  Nevertheless,  the  drama  really  did 
reach  the  hearts  of  the  people.  This  was  because 
it  was  theirs,  because  it  was  truly  national.  The 
Roman  drama,  on  the  contrary,  both  as  an  insti- 
tution and  as  a  department  of  literature,  was 
profoundly  affected  by  the  intrusion  upon  it  at  an 
early  date  of  the  fully  developed  Hellenic  tradi- 
tion and  the  long  -  established  Hellenic  master- 
pieces. The  consequence  was  that  the  Roman 
drama  as  we  know  it,  and  as  the  Romans  them- 
selves knew  it  during  the  historical  period,  was 
not  really  national,  and  had  no  deep  roots  in  the 
national  life.  The  atmosphere  of  the  Palliata 
was  foreign,  the  material  of  the  tragedy  was  not 
only  foreign  but  comparatively  remote  ;  even  the 
worship  of  Dionysus— god  of  the  drama — was  an 
exotic,  and  the  feeling  of  mistrust  entertained  by 
the  genuine  old  Roman  is  clearly  indicated  by  the 
famous  Senatusconsultum  de  Bacanalibus.  His 
affections,  his  traditions,  his  beliefs  were  deeply 
rooted  in  his  own  deities,  the  old  rustic  deities  of 
the  Italian  countryside.  Foreign  gods,  above  all 
foreign  gods  with  'mysteries,'  did  not  appeal  to 
him.     He  was  opposed  to  Dionysus,  as  long  after- 


DRAMA  (Roman) 


907 


wards  he  was  opposed  to  the  Christians,  and  it 
was  the  same  feeling  which  prompted  him  to 
ignore  for  generations  the  intrusion  of  the  Hellen- 
istic week  of  seven  days,  each  under  the  protection 
of  a  planetary  deity.  The  actor,  too,  as  we  have 
seen,  was  a  foreigner  or  its  equivalent.  In  other 
words,  the  profession  which  in  Greece  was  a  conse- 
cration, involved  in  Rome  the  loss  of  civic  rights. 
Who  shall  say  how  far  the  development  of  his- 
trionic talent  and  the  appreciation  of  it  as  such  were 
affected  by  this  absurd  but  entirely  logical  rule  ? 

We  have  seen  that  two  types  of  drama  among 
the  Romans  remained  popular  for  an  indefinite 
period.  The  statements  just  made,  however,  are 
proved,  rather  than  disproved,  by  these  excep- 
tions. The  Atellana  was  a  folk-drama,  which  in 
itself  ensures  longevity  ;  it  was  also  very  old,  and 
for  the  average  Roman  it  was  Roman  from  the 
first.  The  mime  also  was  very  old,  but  in  its 
developed  dramatic  form  it  was  neither  Greek  nor 
Roman,  but  really  the  child  of  the  new  era.  It 
was  Gra^eo-Roman,  and  belonged  to  the  Empire. 
The  mime,  too,  as  was  said  above,  maintained 
itself  for  an  indefinite  period.  In  the  long  run, 
however,  its  vitality  was  due  not  to  its  superiority 
as  an  organic  play,  but  to  its  enormous  flexibility 
and  to  its  power  of  adapting  itself  to  the  tastes  of 
the  passing  hour.  It  always  had  a  residuum  of 
folk-elements,  such  as  a  few  fixed  characters  and 
the  habit  of  improvising  dialogue  ;  it  could  intro- 
duce popular  songs  and  dances,  also  imitations  and 
other  music-hall '  turns.'  In  short,  whatever  it  was 
capable  of  or  had  once  been  under  Philistion  and  his 
compeers,  it  survived  only  as  a  theatrical  perform- 
ance, not  as  a  high-class  dramatic  composition. 

10.  Parody  of  Christian  rites. — Hatred  of  the 
Christians,  for  example,  was  long  popular,  and 
the  consistent  appeal  of  the  mime  to  the  populace 
is  seen  in  the  fact  that  as  early,  perhaps,  as  the 
beginning  of  the  2nd  cent,  the  '  Christian '  (6  Xpic- 
Tiav&s  KoiiiifSoiixevot  [Greg.  Naz.  Orat.  ii.  84J/  had 
become  a  regular  character  in  the  mime.  The 
favourite  act  was  parodying  the  rites  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church,  especially  baptism.  The  candidate 
was  brought  on  the  stage  accompanied  by  bishops, 
priests,  and  deacons ;  and  all  the  ceremonial  was 
gone  through  with.1  A  number  of  early  saints 
were  mimi  who  in  the  course  of  time  had  been 
converted  then  and  there  by  the  Divine  power  of 
the  rite  they  were  parodying,  had  confessed  their 
faith  from  the  stage,  and  had  suffered  martyrdom 
soon  after.  The  most  famous  was  Genesius  in 
Diocletian's  time.  His  speciality  had  been  to 
imitate  the  '  working  of  the  spirit '  with  a  pre- 
tended fit,  after  which  he  proceeded  to  baptism. 
A  church  was  erected  to  him,  and  to  this  day  Saint 
Genesius  still  remains  a  specialist  on  epilepsy.2 
Even  martyrdom  was  depicted  in  the  most  real- 
istic fashion.  But  this  was  nothing  new.  In  the 
old  mime  of  Laureolus,  the  robber  chieftain  was 
(apparently)  nailed  to  the  cross,  and,  as  Josephus 
tells  us  (Ant.  XIX.  i.  .13),  the  realism  was  height- 
ened by  a  large  supply  of  blood  brought  in  for  the 
occasion.  In  fact,  Domitian  once  put  the  last 
touch  to  this  delectable  speciality  by  substituting 
the  genuine  crucifixion  of  a  condemned  criminal. 
That  such  an  entertainment  could  still  remain  a 
burlesque  is  partly  due  to  the  fact,  as  Reich 
observes,  that  the  sufferer  was  the  clown.  It  is 
expressly  stated  that  Saint  Gelasinos  was  the  p.l/j.os 
defrrepos,  i.  e.  the  fj.u>p6s  or  stwpidus. 

Occasionally  the  rnima  was  converted.  The 
famous  case  was  that  of  Pelagia  by  Bishop 
Nonnos.8    As  a  rule,  however,  the  mima  was  a 

1  Migne,  PG  cxvii.  134  and  144. 

2  Acta  Swnctorum,  Bolland.  v.  120  (August). 

3  See  esp.  Usener,  *  Legenden  der  Pelagia,'  Vortrdge  und, 
Avjsatze,  Leipzig,  1907,  pp.  191-216. 


much  harder  nut  to  crack.  The  Christian  Fathers 
were  especially  fond  of  designating  her  as  a  -n-opvii 
(Chrys.  vii.  665  f.  etc.). 

It  is  only  just  to  add  that  the  mimus  was  not 
really  to  be  blamed  for  his  parodies.  Throughout 
paganism  he  had  ridiculed  the  ancient  gods.  This 
was  characteristic  of  Hellenism,  and  no  one 
thought  anything  of  it.  In  their  case,  however, 
the  Christians  objected  to  it — a  new  point  of  view 
had  come  in  from  the  East.  And,  when  Chris- 
tianity won  the  upper  hand,  the  mime  returned 
again  to  the  old  gods  of  paganism. 

II.  Christian  opposition. — Attacks  on  the  theatre 
begin  with  the  first  Christian  writers  (so  Minucius 
Felix,  Tatian,  Arnobius,  Augustine,  Lactantius, 
Gregory  Naz. ,  etc. ).  Special  works  aimed  at  the 
theatre  alone  were  written  by  Tertullian  and 
Cyprian ;  and  Chrysostom  rarely  forgets  this  his 
special  vessel  of  wrath.  In  the  course  of  time  all 
this  bitter  polemic  was  systematized,  supported, 
and  connected  by  the  dialectic  of  the  law  and  of 
the  Church. 

All  the  old  gods  are  devils  (Tert.  Sped.  19) :  Dionysus  the 
old  god  is  the  lord  of  the  theatre  ;  therefore,  the  theatre  belongs 
to  a  devil,  the  devil.  He  built  it  himself,  and  says  expressly 
that  it  belongs  to  him  (Tert.  op.  tit.  26).  In  the  same  way  all 
dramatic  arts  come  from  the  devil  (pseud.-Cypr.  Spect.  4 ; 
Tatian,  Orat.  ad  Grcec.  22).  This  is  a  favourite  topic  for  Chry- 
sostom :  through  the  mouth  of  the  monks  Christ  speaks,  through 
the  mouth  of  the  mimi  the  devil  speaks  (vii.  675  B).  The  songs 
of  the  mime  are  Satan's  own,  the  dances  of  the  mime  are 
not  otherwise  (vi.  77  B,  viii.  422).  TLo^ttt}  tto-vto.  eim,  etc.,  the 
whole  show  and  all  that  is  said  and  done  by  and  during  the 
same  is  inspired  of  hell,  a  demon's  litany,  a  devil's  sacrament 
(viii.  6  C,  ix.  323  B).  All  who  go  to  the  mime  become  the  devil's 
own  (viii.  114  C).  Therefore  the  Christian  who  goes  to  it  is  a 
perjurer,  for  when  he  was  baptized  he  swore  to  renounce  the 
devil  and  all  his  works  (viii.  6  C).  Everything  about  the  mime 
shows  that  it  comes  hot  from  hell.  Dissembling,  disguise, 
imitation,  p.itx.riais,  is  the  devil's  stock-in-trade,  his  reason  for 
existence,  the  origin  of  his  name.  The  chief  aim  of  the  mime 
is  to  raise  a  laugh.  But  laughter  and  gaiety  come  not  from 
God — 0ebs  ov  ira^Tdi — but  from  the  devil  (x.  590,  vii.  97). 

Long  and  fiery  passages  are  given  up  to  the  various  actors, 
above  all  to  the  mimes.  They  curl  their  hair,  they  paint  their 
oh6eks,  i-hey  roll  their  eyes,  they  glitter  in  jewels  and  gold — 
and  who  are  these  mi'mce?  The  daughters  of  butchers,  of 
shoemakers,  even  of  slaves !  Most  seductive  of  all  is  the 
beautiful  voice  with  which  they  know  how  to  sing  their  olSat 
TropviKai,  their  atrnara  (jaractKa,  their  '  ballads  of  the  brothel,' 
their  '  devil's  own  ditties.'  Then,  too,  the  language  is  common, 
vulgar,  frivolous,  full  of  oaths,  not  even  intelligible,  eking  out 
its  meaning  with  shouting  and  squealing  I  Yet  the  Christians 
are  forever  talking  about  the  actresses,  what  they  say,  how 
they  look,  what  they  wear.  Which  one  of  these  Christians 
can  repeat  the  Psalms  or  passages  from  the  Scriptures?  Which 
one  of  them  does  not  know  all  the  songs  from  the  mimes?  The 
young  people  are  singing  them  the  entire  day  long.  The  mime 
is  the  theatre  of  concupiscence,  an  incurable  plague,  a  poison, 
a  snare  of  death  (vii.  172),  the  training  school  of  immorality, 
the  seed  of  iniquity,  the  haunt  of  impurity  and  lewdness,  the 
fiery  furnace  of  the  Babylonians  heated  to  seventy  times  seven 
by  the  devil  himself,  etc.  etc. 

The  above  is  a  fierce  arraignment,  but  of  no 
great  value  except  to  indicate  why  Bishop  Johannes 
was  given  the  name  of  '  Chrysostomos.'  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  anathema  of  the  Church  was 
utterly  powerless.  Indeed,  the  Church  actually 
lost  ground,  as  there  was  evidently  a  large  body 
of  more  or  less  conscientious  Christians  that  saw 
no  such  harm  in  the  mime  as  Chrysostom  would 
have  us  suppose.  Until  the  very  end  of  the 
Eastern  Empire  interest  in  the  mime  never  abated 
in  the  slightest  degree,  and  it  is  well  known  that 
the  metres,  if  not  the  music,  of  these  same  uidai 
TropvtKal  and  do-fjara  aaraviKa  attacked  by  Chry- 
sostom actually  entered  into  the  hymnology  of  the 
Greek  Church.  Arius  was  accused  of  the  same 
thing  by  Athanasius.  Every  hymnology  bears 
traces  of  a  similar  process,  and,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  this  is  by  no  means  the  only  indication  that 
neither  time,  nor  change,  nor  creed  has  ever  been 
able  finally  to  sever  the  ancient  bond  between  the 
Church  and  the  theatre. 

Literature. — This  is  given  in  the  text  and  footnotes.  Cf. 
also  the  list  of  authorities  appended  to  art.  Drama  (Greek). 

Kirby  Flower  Smith. 


VHS  BUD  OV  VOL.  w. 


SlaMftfHOS 


M  cxaxiae  .' 


O  r^  -jf  j  -;jr  f  r-f 


any 


til    i|t  I      I  H  ^ 


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